[fic] What's Puzzling You Is The Nature Of My Game 5/?
Title: What's Puzzling You Is The Nature Of My Game, Part 5
Pairings: eventual Arthur/Merlin and background Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Word Count: ~4200 words this part.
Disclaimer: This version of Arthur, Merlin, et al belong to Shine and the BBC, not to me.
Summary: It's 1963, the Cold War is in full swing, and Arthur Pendragon, agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service, is about to meet the Service's newest Russian double agent: Merlin Emrys.
Author's Notes: Thanks to latenightcuppa for the beta read of this part. More notes at the end.
first part. previous part.
oh yeah I’ll tell you something
I think you’ll understand
when I say that something
I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand
In August, the American military entered Vietnam after two US navy vessels were attacked by the North Vietnamese navy over the course of just two days in the Gulf of Tonkin. The world collectively took a deep breath but, as often happens when there’s just nothing you can do, quickly went back to their lives and the other issues that took up much of their attention.
About half a week later, while the intelligence community was still reeling from the unanimously approved blank check the American Congress had given to President Johnson for military expenses in Vietnam, Arthur joined Morgana in going out to lunch with Morgana's sister Morgause, who was on her annual trip to London. Well, half-sister. Their father, Gorlois, had run off to America in order to find himself in his twenties and had instead found a pretty blonde débutante named Elaine. The two of them spent just enough time together to ruin the poor girl for life before Gorlois was called back to the life waiting for him as a spy for Britain and Elaine was left, alone, unmarried and pregnant, to face the disapproval of American high society just as the stock market took its fall. Gorlois later married Morgana's mother and had shortly there after been shot down by a German in his RAF fighter jet, leaving both girls to grow up fatherless. Almost twenty years later, Morgana had received a letter from her long lost sister, who now worked as an interrogator for the Central Intelligence Agency just has her father had done for the Secret Intelligence Service in its early days, and the two had been writing and visiting each other back and forth ever since, building the relationship they'd never had as children.
Morgause was obviously troubled that week. She looked as flawless as she always did, with her dirty blonde hair was pinned back neatly behind her head and her dress which managed to look professionally classy and fashionably short all at once, but she worried her lip almost constantly as she stared off into the distance while she and Arthur sat in the cafe on Wandsworth Road. Morgana had gone to order their lunch. "I shouldn't really have come," she confided to Arthur, leaning across the table, "as you can imagine we're swamped at work, but Morgana has been looking forward to my visit so much, I couldn't disappoint her."
"I'm sure the CIA is still functioning without you," Arthur assured her, "but I'd enjoy this holiday, it's probably the last one you'll get in awhile."
Morgause smiled at him, but the smile never quite reached her eyes. Arthur had noticed that it almost never did. "You'd better be thankful Britain isn't at war," she said almost meanly. "Work has been chaos ever since the attacks. People who've never had to know anything about Vietnam in their lives are now being taken away from their normal jobs to work on this. And all because the president wants a war."
"I'm sure Johnson doesn't actually want a war," Morgana chastised as she arrived back at the table and set a martini in front of both Arthur and Morgause before sitting down in front of her own, "he's just doing what he thinks he has to in order to keep your country safe."
Morgause shook her head, looking like she wasn't sure she should go on. "I'm not sure that's what it is, though," she leaned for conspiratorially. "You didn't hear this from me," she warned severely, "but there's a lot of confusion about last week. There are a whole bunch of conflicting reports going around. No one can say for sure exactly what happened on the fourth." She sat back and raised her eyebrows at Arthur and Morgana, as if to say 'how about that, eh?'
Arthur took a sip of his drink and let the information wash over him. He never pretended to quite understand the workings of the minds of heads of state, but this took the cake when it came to fuzzy motivations.
Morgause sighed dramatically. "But enough about my professional woes," she said, "what about yours, Arthur? I hear you've got some super top secret assignment you've been working on?" Arthur glanced at Morgana in alarm and Morgause laughed. "Don't worry, she hasn't told me more than that," she assured him. "But if you'd like to clue me in, I'm all ears."
Arthur tried not to look as suspicious as he was feeling and just grinned ruefully. "We can't all be as slapdash with our state secrets as you are, Morgause," he answered her and refused to say any more.
+
When he saw Merlin the next day, Morgause's antics were still very much on his mind. By letting Arthur and Morgana in on the information she had told them the day before, Morgause had opened herself up to treason charges should either of them ever do anything with it. Neither of them would, of course, but that wasn't the point. Why would she be so reckless? Yes, Morgana was her sister, but she and Arthur were really no more than acquaintances. Certainly, Arthur would never dare to throw that sort of sensitive gossip around with someone he barely knew. The conundrum distracted him through most of his meeting with Merlin.
And Merlin must have noticed because as Arthur went to stand and excuse himself as their discussion wrapped up, he reached out his hand to touch Arthur's knee, stopping him. "Are you okay, Arthur?" he asked. "You seem kind of out of it tonight."
Arthur let himself sink back down to the ground where he'd just been sitting. It was after dark and they sat with their backs up against the base of Peter Pan's statue in Kensington Park, on the far side of the footpath, so as not to be seen by any tourists who happened to wander by to pay a visit to their childhood hero. But it was late and so far no one had come, so Merlin was just sitting next to him, whispering into his ear with speculation about the Americans entering Vietnam and what Moscow thought that would mean for their hold on China, with their thighs pressed together to keep warm as the temperature dropped with the night. It had been Merlin's idea to come to this specific place, despite the fact that it was a tourist trap and really not very safe. But that was Merlin all over, whimsical and reckless and child-like. Let's go see Peter Pan he'd urged Arthur, a gleam in his eye Arthur had never seen before but wanted more of, maybe he'll teach us how to fly!
"If I confide in you about something, do promise not to tell?" Arthur asked.
Merlin huffed a laugh. "Please, who am I going to tell?"
He had a point. "Well," he hedged, plucking up the courage to actually put into words what he'd been thinking since the day before, "I had lunch yesterday with a woman who works for the CIA." He glanced at Merlin, who looked puzzled. "She's actually my foster sister's half-sister," he explained.
"That sounds...complicated."
Arthur chuckled. "A little," he agreed. "But anyway. Yesterday I met the two of them for lunch and Morgause--that's Morgana's sister--started telling us, completely unprompted, something that I'm sure was meant to be kept underwraps regarding this whole Tonkin Resolution thing." Merlin looked nonplussed, so Arthur went on. "I mean, usually it's no big deal, trading office gossip, but this sounding more like really sensitive information trying to be disguised as office gossip."
"So you think she wanted the Service to have information that the CIA was keeping from you?" Merlin asked, looking almost worried now. "Why would she want that?"
"I don't know," Arthur replied, "but right after that she segued directly into asking me about my current assignment. I think," he paused, knowing what he was about to say would sound a little crazy. "I think she might have been trying to pry information from me."
"Why on Earth would she do that, Arthur?" Merlin demanded, clearly unconvinced.
"I don't know but I--"
"No," Merlin interrupted him. "Arthur, listen to me. You need to calm down. The CIA is not trying to pry information from you through your foster sister's half sister, okay? That doesn't make any sense. You're paranoid, all right, and that's not even a good thing to be paranoid over. This morning Will almost stumbled over some of my files from the Service--" Arthur looked up in alarm, "don't worry, I've moved them now, to a better hiding place--but what I'm trying to say is, I have things actually worth being paranoid about. You just have friends who are spies."
Arthur nodded, conceding defeat. There was still a part of him that couldn't shake the feeling that Morgause had been up to more than gossip but he forced himself to let it go.
"There, that's it," Merlin said, reaching out to smooth the lapels of Arthur's jacket as they stood up and brushed the dirt off their trouser legs. "Go home and get some sleep, Arthur. I'll see you next week."
+ + +
"So what do you think of the show?" Merlin asked one night a few months later as he looked up at Arthur from where he sat on the grimy floor. Arthur mourned for his suit trousers, but Merlin hadn't seemed to notice. Arthur himself was perched on the covered toilet of the men's room they'd locked themselves up in during the intermission of Beyond the Fringe, which the Service had seen fit to send them to tonight. Arthur had already seen it, but if they wanted to send him to perhaps the finest example of comedy in decades, he wasn't going to complain.
"I liked it better with the original cast," he responded.
Merlin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and Arthur thought for a moment that he'd just let it go, but then seemed to change his mind. "You saw it with the original cast?" he asked, obviously somewhat in awe.
"Yep," Arthur confirmed, "Peter Cook, Alan Bennent, Jonathan Miller and Dudley Moore. My father took Morgana and I a few weeks after it opened. Got box seats and everything," he finished with a smirk.
Merlin he shook his head as if in resigned disbelief. "Spoiled, rich bastard," he harrumphed good-naturedly, "they would have spit at you in the street back home."
A few months before, Arthur would have frozen up at that. Merlin still barely mentioned his communist upbringing. He seemed conscious of Arthur's discomfort and meant to ease him gradually into the idea. Arthur appreciated it, even if he wouldn't admit it. Instead, he teasingly shot back, "Well, you came to Britain, so you'll just have to deal with our free market ways."
Merlin gave a dramatic sigh. "You're just going to force me to make money and live comfortably, aren't you?" he said, mock-resigned.
The house lights blinked, calling them back to their seats in different areas of the theatre, and Arthur spent the rest of the play being distracted by the memory of Merlin in a suit and tie, laughing at Arthur's good natured teasing. He was beautiful, Arthur realized with a start, and tried with little effect to force the thought from his brain. Where the hell had that come from?
After the play was over, Arthur met Merlin again in the lobby and they waded side by side through the crowd trying to leave the theatre. When they finally made it through the doors and out onto the street, they lingered there a moment as the mass of people continued to poor out of the theatre all around them. Merlin turned and said, "So you're walking to the tube, aren't you?"
"Yeah, it's down that way," Arthur answered, pointing down the street where they could vaguely see the red circle blinking at them from under a street light a few blocks away.
"Okay, I'll go with you then." Merlin said brightly.
It wasn't a very good idea; they could be seen by anyone who had decided to tail them. But on the other hand, Merlin had taken precautions against being followed on his way to the theatre, besides, they were in a huge crowd and it was only three blocks. And Arthur suddenly didn't want to say goodnight to Merlin, instead he wanted to stick around for a few more of those blinding smiles. So even though he should have said no, he said, "Yeah, okay."
The crowd began to thin out as they got farther from the theatre and soon it was possible to take full steps again, much to Arthur's relief. He and Merlin laughed again at the play's jokes as they made their way towards the Underground and Arthur marveled at how comfortable he felt with the other man. He'd handled other cases before, but most of those informants had wanted to spend as little time as possible with Arthur, wary of being met by prying eyes. But Merlin was different. He was professionally cautious but never held anything back; he treated Arthur like a friend and Arthur was hard-pressed not to do the same back. When they were together they were almost as likely to be discussing music or politics or films as they were business. Arthur enjoyed Merlin's company, and the way his blue eyes sparkled gold in the sunlight was a plus.
The Underground was just across the street now and they were laughing as they crossed it. Merlin's stilted yet strangely accurate impression of Elvis never failed to be funny. Merlin's head was thrown back in his laugh at his own joke and the sinews of his neck gleamed in the street lamp light. Which was why Arthur didn't see the car whizzing in front of them as they stepped out onto the street.
As soon as his foot touched the pavement, Arthur knew something was wrong. He could feel a large presence bearing down on him and looked to the left. And he blinked. The car, which had previously been going full tilt, had stopped on a dime mere inches from Arthur's thigh. Arthur staggered a few steps back and looked around wildly, half expecting to see another one barreling towards him from the other direction. There wasn't one, but there was something even more bizarre.
Merlin's eyes, whose deep blue Arthur had been admiring just minutes before, burned bright gold. Arthur knew he was staring but he couldn't help it, it was like two suns had taken up residence on Merlin's face. "Merlin," he started "what--"
But Merlin didn't answer, he just lunged at him and pulled him back to the sidewalk. As he did, it was like the second shoe had dropped and the car lurched back into life, continuing down the street as though it had never stopped. But Arthur wasn't looking at that, he was watching as the gold faded from Merlin's eyes and they returned to their natural blue. As they did, Merlin looked down at his feet awkwardly, the bright red blush on his cheeks easily visible under the street lamp. All around them, the remains of the theatre crowd went marching by them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.
"I, uh -- I don't suppose you could pretend like nothing just happened, could you?" Merlin asked.
"No, I don't think I could," said Arthur. "Merlin, what the hell just happened?"
But Merlin continued to stare at his shoes --nice, business shoes, good for a night out at the theatre -- and refused to meet Arthur's eye.
"Merlin, you're starting to scare me. What's going on?" Arthur could handle befriending Russian double agents who sometimes looked like he should still be in nappies and he could handle maybe having some feelings for that same man if he didn't think about it too hard, but this was something different. This was something Arthur couldn't even begin to understand, and, yeah, it scared him.
"Could we maybe talk about this sometime when it's not eleven thirty at night and we're not in the middle of a busy sidewalk?" Merlin sounded on edge and desperate and, yes, he was scared too, there could be no doubt about it.
"Merlin, seriously. What is it?"
Merlin finally lifted his head and made eye contact with Arthur for the first time since they'd come back on the sidewalk. His gaze was so intense that Arthur thought he could feel it burning into him. "Please, Arthur," he said, casting a sidelong glance at the latest couple to cast them one as they past, "not here."
Arthur took a deep breath and, finally, gave in. "Fine," he said. "Tomorrow's Sunday so I have church at eleven, but if you come 'round my flat before that we can talk then, okay?"
Merlin's expression shifted from one of misery to alarm. "Wait -- come 'round your flat? Arthur, that breaks so many protocols I can't even --"
"I'm not the only one who lives in my building, you could be coming to see anyone --"
"Who just happens to live right where you do? Oh please, Arthur, how many shop boys know people who live in Kensington?" All traces of misery had left Merlin's face now and he only looked livid. His hair was all over the place from where he had tugged at it, his bowtie had come undone and was hanging loosely down his chest, and Arthur thought some gold had returned to the boy's furious eyes.
"Look, you said you wanted to talk in private," Arthur pointed out, "this is as good as you're gonna get. Would you rather I came 'round your place?"
Merlin simply stared at him for a few seconds longer, with his eyes completely blue again and his chest heaving. "No," he said after a long moment, still sounding petulant. "I'll see you in the morning."
+
Arthur woke up with a jolt the next morning at nine when his blaring alarm clock went off. Groaning, Arthur groped around his nightstand until he found the alarm and managed to stop the noise without even opening his eyes. He struggled to sit up in bed and slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the sun that was streaming in from the windows he'd neglected to cover the night before.
Dragging himself out of bed, he reached for his dressing gown and staggered into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a few drags while he waited for the water to boil. He was just pulling the coffee grounds out of the refrigerator and the coffee grinder out of the cupboard when his doorbell rang.
When Arthur opened the door Merlin said, "Oh. You're still in your dressing gown. Sorry."
Arthur ushered him inside the flat, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them. "It's okay," he said around the cigarette he was holding between his teeth, "did anybody follow you?"
"Of course not, Arthur, I'm a professional," Merlin answered crisply. Then, after Arthur's unimpressed stare, "I changed taxis three times, okay? Cost me a bloody fortune. Happy?"
Arthur ignored the same petulance from the night before creeping into Merlin's voice and asked, "Do you want a cup of coffee? I was just making some for myself."
Merlin deflated slightly. "Uh, sure," he said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
They had never been like this before. Even when they had first met, Merlin and Arthur had always had something to say to each other, now it felt like a great big awkward silence and Arthur hated it.
He reached into his dressing gown pocket again, pulled out another cigarette and offered it to Merlin. But Merlin shook his head. "I don't smoke. It's supposed to be bad for you, so."
Arthur stared at him in disbelief for a moment. There had been reports tying smoking to lung diseases, of course, but Arthur didn't know anyone who really took that seriously. "Suit yourself," he muttered and added, louder, "The sitting room is just through there," he gestured down the hallway, "you go sit in there, I'll bring the coffee out in a minute and we'll talk."
When Arthur returned with the coffee a few minutes later, he found Merlin sitting on the sofa, staring intently at his hands where they were clasped tightly in his lap. Arthur cleared his throat, drawing Merlin's attention, and handed him his mug, taking a seat next to him on the sofa. He gave Merlin a few moments to sip the bitter drink before he started talking. "So, are you going to explain what happened last night?" he asked as gently as he could, but he was unable to fully hide the curiosity in his voice.
Merlin closed his eyes and his knuckles whitened around the coffee mug. "Honestly, I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said.
"Try me."
"It was -- it was magic."
"What?"
"I'm a wizard."
"What."
"I told you you wouldn't believe me." Merlin sounded completely defeated, and the tone of his voice broke Arthur's heart, even as his brain whirled.
"Why don't you take a few steps back," Arthur suggested, "because as far as I know, there's no such thing as magic."
"But there is, though!" Merlin insisted. "Or, well, that's the only word I can use to describe it. It's just, as far back as I can remember, I've been able to -- do things." He stopped, gazing into his coffee mug, lost in space.
"Like what?" Arthur prompted.
"Like -- oh, I don't know. Lots of things. But mostly, move things around the room without touching them."
"Really?" Arthur felt curiosity fill him again. This was something he had to see for himself. "Can you show me?"
"Well, I'm not a performing monkey," Merlin said, indignant, but he glanced around and his gaze settled on a chair on the far side of the room. He stared intently at it and Arthur saw his eyes turn the same gold as the night before when the chair skidded three feet across the wooden floor before stopping on a dime at the edge of the carpet.
"What else can you do?" Arthur asked.
"Well," Merlin answered shakily, "time. I stop time. Not very much, but sometimes. That's what I did last night."
Arthur took all of this in. It made sense. He hadn't fully noticed the night before, but when Arthur had been out in the street with the car right at his knee, it had been like everything was stopped, not just the car, and it had all started moving again as soon as Merlin had pulled him back off the street. "Well," Arthur started shakily, "in that case, you saved my life. I appreciate it." But then a thought struck him, and he was suddenly terrified. "Is this why the KGB recruited you?" he demanded.
Merlin looked flabbergasted for a moment. "What?" he said, "No! No no no! They don't know. No one does." He looked so impossibly earnest that Arthur couldn't help but believe him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. As an afterthought Merlin added with a touch of bitterness, "Well, except my mum, but I haven't even talked to her in seven years so I don't think she's much of a threat."
"No, I wouldn't think that she is," Arthur said.
But Merlin continued to peer anxiously at him. "Is there someone you need to tell about this?" he asked. "Like, your supervisor for instance. What's her name -- Nimueh?"
"I don't need to tell Nimueh about this, Merlin," Arthur assured him and Merlin visibly relaxed. "I won't tell anyone, I promise," Arthur continued, "but just -- give me a little time, okay? To get used to it. Brave new world and all that."
Merlin was looking at him now with an expression full to the brim with gratitude, disbelief and something Arthur couldn't quite name. And now that it had all been as sorted out as it was going to be, Arthur realized with a start that they were sitting very close to each other on the sofa. Arthur's hand had come to rest on the fists Merlin was making in his lap and their knees were knocking together gently. "Thank you," Merlin said, heartfelt, "thank you so much, Arthur."
And then he leaned in just a little, but it was all he needed to do in order to close the gap between them and bring his lips to Arthur's. It was chaste, barely even a kiss, but their lips were pressed together for one long moment and Arthur had time to register that Merlin's lips were as soft as any of the women's he'd kissed before he jerked back in shock.
As he did, Merlin's eyes widened with surprise, as if he hadn't instigated the kiss. "Oh!" he exclaimed ineloquently. "Oh -- um -- sorry," he went on as Arthur continued to stare, at a loss for words. Merlin got up and nearly ran to the door. He turned in the threshold and said, once again, "Thank you for being so understanding though, I really mean that and -- I'm sorry," before he disappeared.
NOTE:
1) The Gulf of Tonkin Incident occurred in the beginning of August, 1964 (it was actually two separate incidents, on the 2nd and on the 4th) when the American naval vessel the USS Maddox was fired upon in the Gulf of Tonkin off the shore of Vietnam and triggered the "blank check" that was presented to the US military for use there. It was later determined that the second incident probably never occurred at all (not to mention the fact that the Maddox wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, since it was North Vietnamese waters) and that President Johnson used to the whole thing as an excuse to legitimize his already ongoing military operations in the region.
2) Beyond The Fringe was a British comedy troupe consisting of Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Alan Bennett and Jonathan Miller whose sketch comedy show opened on London's West End in 1960 and transferred to Broadway in New York in 1962. It was still playing in London in '64, albiet with another cast.
3) I think of this chapter as the beginning of the rising action. Everything before this was sort of background and an introduction to the characters, scenario, etc. and there's nowhere to go but up. This should be quite a long fic, I still have a lot of ground to cover on my outline, this is just the beginning.
4) I have now reached the point where I have no more completed parts left to post. I'm still going to say, though, that I will post Part 6 on Wednesday, or else I won't have any incentive to finish it before then. Thank you all for your continued support of this story and I will try my best to keep updates of it relatively frequent.
next part.
Pairings: eventual Arthur/Merlin and background Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Word Count: ~4200 words this part.
Disclaimer: This version of Arthur, Merlin, et al belong to Shine and the BBC, not to me.
Summary: It's 1963, the Cold War is in full swing, and Arthur Pendragon, agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service, is about to meet the Service's newest Russian double agent: Merlin Emrys.
Author's Notes: Thanks to latenightcuppa for the beta read of this part. More notes at the end.
first part. previous part.
I think you’ll understand
when I say that something
I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand
In August, the American military entered Vietnam after two US navy vessels were attacked by the North Vietnamese navy over the course of just two days in the Gulf of Tonkin. The world collectively took a deep breath but, as often happens when there’s just nothing you can do, quickly went back to their lives and the other issues that took up much of their attention.
About half a week later, while the intelligence community was still reeling from the unanimously approved blank check the American Congress had given to President Johnson for military expenses in Vietnam, Arthur joined Morgana in going out to lunch with Morgana's sister Morgause, who was on her annual trip to London. Well, half-sister. Their father, Gorlois, had run off to America in order to find himself in his twenties and had instead found a pretty blonde débutante named Elaine. The two of them spent just enough time together to ruin the poor girl for life before Gorlois was called back to the life waiting for him as a spy for Britain and Elaine was left, alone, unmarried and pregnant, to face the disapproval of American high society just as the stock market took its fall. Gorlois later married Morgana's mother and had shortly there after been shot down by a German in his RAF fighter jet, leaving both girls to grow up fatherless. Almost twenty years later, Morgana had received a letter from her long lost sister, who now worked as an interrogator for the Central Intelligence Agency just has her father had done for the Secret Intelligence Service in its early days, and the two had been writing and visiting each other back and forth ever since, building the relationship they'd never had as children.
Morgause was obviously troubled that week. She looked as flawless as she always did, with her dirty blonde hair was pinned back neatly behind her head and her dress which managed to look professionally classy and fashionably short all at once, but she worried her lip almost constantly as she stared off into the distance while she and Arthur sat in the cafe on Wandsworth Road. Morgana had gone to order their lunch. "I shouldn't really have come," she confided to Arthur, leaning across the table, "as you can imagine we're swamped at work, but Morgana has been looking forward to my visit so much, I couldn't disappoint her."
"I'm sure the CIA is still functioning without you," Arthur assured her, "but I'd enjoy this holiday, it's probably the last one you'll get in awhile."
Morgause smiled at him, but the smile never quite reached her eyes. Arthur had noticed that it almost never did. "You'd better be thankful Britain isn't at war," she said almost meanly. "Work has been chaos ever since the attacks. People who've never had to know anything about Vietnam in their lives are now being taken away from their normal jobs to work on this. And all because the president wants a war."
"I'm sure Johnson doesn't actually want a war," Morgana chastised as she arrived back at the table and set a martini in front of both Arthur and Morgause before sitting down in front of her own, "he's just doing what he thinks he has to in order to keep your country safe."
Morgause shook her head, looking like she wasn't sure she should go on. "I'm not sure that's what it is, though," she leaned for conspiratorially. "You didn't hear this from me," she warned severely, "but there's a lot of confusion about last week. There are a whole bunch of conflicting reports going around. No one can say for sure exactly what happened on the fourth." She sat back and raised her eyebrows at Arthur and Morgana, as if to say 'how about that, eh?'
Arthur took a sip of his drink and let the information wash over him. He never pretended to quite understand the workings of the minds of heads of state, but this took the cake when it came to fuzzy motivations.
Morgause sighed dramatically. "But enough about my professional woes," she said, "what about yours, Arthur? I hear you've got some super top secret assignment you've been working on?" Arthur glanced at Morgana in alarm and Morgause laughed. "Don't worry, she hasn't told me more than that," she assured him. "But if you'd like to clue me in, I'm all ears."
Arthur tried not to look as suspicious as he was feeling and just grinned ruefully. "We can't all be as slapdash with our state secrets as you are, Morgause," he answered her and refused to say any more.
When he saw Merlin the next day, Morgause's antics were still very much on his mind. By letting Arthur and Morgana in on the information she had told them the day before, Morgause had opened herself up to treason charges should either of them ever do anything with it. Neither of them would, of course, but that wasn't the point. Why would she be so reckless? Yes, Morgana was her sister, but she and Arthur were really no more than acquaintances. Certainly, Arthur would never dare to throw that sort of sensitive gossip around with someone he barely knew. The conundrum distracted him through most of his meeting with Merlin.
And Merlin must have noticed because as Arthur went to stand and excuse himself as their discussion wrapped up, he reached out his hand to touch Arthur's knee, stopping him. "Are you okay, Arthur?" he asked. "You seem kind of out of it tonight."
Arthur let himself sink back down to the ground where he'd just been sitting. It was after dark and they sat with their backs up against the base of Peter Pan's statue in Kensington Park, on the far side of the footpath, so as not to be seen by any tourists who happened to wander by to pay a visit to their childhood hero. But it was late and so far no one had come, so Merlin was just sitting next to him, whispering into his ear with speculation about the Americans entering Vietnam and what Moscow thought that would mean for their hold on China, with their thighs pressed together to keep warm as the temperature dropped with the night. It had been Merlin's idea to come to this specific place, despite the fact that it was a tourist trap and really not very safe. But that was Merlin all over, whimsical and reckless and child-like. Let's go see Peter Pan he'd urged Arthur, a gleam in his eye Arthur had never seen before but wanted more of, maybe he'll teach us how to fly!
"If I confide in you about something, do promise not to tell?" Arthur asked.
Merlin huffed a laugh. "Please, who am I going to tell?"
He had a point. "Well," he hedged, plucking up the courage to actually put into words what he'd been thinking since the day before, "I had lunch yesterday with a woman who works for the CIA." He glanced at Merlin, who looked puzzled. "She's actually my foster sister's half-sister," he explained.
"That sounds...complicated."
Arthur chuckled. "A little," he agreed. "But anyway. Yesterday I met the two of them for lunch and Morgause--that's Morgana's sister--started telling us, completely unprompted, something that I'm sure was meant to be kept underwraps regarding this whole Tonkin Resolution thing." Merlin looked nonplussed, so Arthur went on. "I mean, usually it's no big deal, trading office gossip, but this sounding more like really sensitive information trying to be disguised as office gossip."
"So you think she wanted the Service to have information that the CIA was keeping from you?" Merlin asked, looking almost worried now. "Why would she want that?"
"I don't know," Arthur replied, "but right after that she segued directly into asking me about my current assignment. I think," he paused, knowing what he was about to say would sound a little crazy. "I think she might have been trying to pry information from me."
"Why on Earth would she do that, Arthur?" Merlin demanded, clearly unconvinced.
"I don't know but I--"
"No," Merlin interrupted him. "Arthur, listen to me. You need to calm down. The CIA is not trying to pry information from you through your foster sister's half sister, okay? That doesn't make any sense. You're paranoid, all right, and that's not even a good thing to be paranoid over. This morning Will almost stumbled over some of my files from the Service--" Arthur looked up in alarm, "don't worry, I've moved them now, to a better hiding place--but what I'm trying to say is, I have things actually worth being paranoid about. You just have friends who are spies."
Arthur nodded, conceding defeat. There was still a part of him that couldn't shake the feeling that Morgause had been up to more than gossip but he forced himself to let it go.
"There, that's it," Merlin said, reaching out to smooth the lapels of Arthur's jacket as they stood up and brushed the dirt off their trouser legs. "Go home and get some sleep, Arthur. I'll see you next week."
"So what do you think of the show?" Merlin asked one night a few months later as he looked up at Arthur from where he sat on the grimy floor. Arthur mourned for his suit trousers, but Merlin hadn't seemed to notice. Arthur himself was perched on the covered toilet of the men's room they'd locked themselves up in during the intermission of Beyond the Fringe, which the Service had seen fit to send them to tonight. Arthur had already seen it, but if they wanted to send him to perhaps the finest example of comedy in decades, he wasn't going to complain.
"I liked it better with the original cast," he responded.
Merlin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and Arthur thought for a moment that he'd just let it go, but then seemed to change his mind. "You saw it with the original cast?" he asked, obviously somewhat in awe.
"Yep," Arthur confirmed, "Peter Cook, Alan Bennent, Jonathan Miller and Dudley Moore. My father took Morgana and I a few weeks after it opened. Got box seats and everything," he finished with a smirk.
Merlin he shook his head as if in resigned disbelief. "Spoiled, rich bastard," he harrumphed good-naturedly, "they would have spit at you in the street back home."
A few months before, Arthur would have frozen up at that. Merlin still barely mentioned his communist upbringing. He seemed conscious of Arthur's discomfort and meant to ease him gradually into the idea. Arthur appreciated it, even if he wouldn't admit it. Instead, he teasingly shot back, "Well, you came to Britain, so you'll just have to deal with our free market ways."
Merlin gave a dramatic sigh. "You're just going to force me to make money and live comfortably, aren't you?" he said, mock-resigned.
The house lights blinked, calling them back to their seats in different areas of the theatre, and Arthur spent the rest of the play being distracted by the memory of Merlin in a suit and tie, laughing at Arthur's good natured teasing. He was beautiful, Arthur realized with a start, and tried with little effect to force the thought from his brain. Where the hell had that come from?
After the play was over, Arthur met Merlin again in the lobby and they waded side by side through the crowd trying to leave the theatre. When they finally made it through the doors and out onto the street, they lingered there a moment as the mass of people continued to poor out of the theatre all around them. Merlin turned and said, "So you're walking to the tube, aren't you?"
"Yeah, it's down that way," Arthur answered, pointing down the street where they could vaguely see the red circle blinking at them from under a street light a few blocks away.
"Okay, I'll go with you then." Merlin said brightly.
It wasn't a very good idea; they could be seen by anyone who had decided to tail them. But on the other hand, Merlin had taken precautions against being followed on his way to the theatre, besides, they were in a huge crowd and it was only three blocks. And Arthur suddenly didn't want to say goodnight to Merlin, instead he wanted to stick around for a few more of those blinding smiles. So even though he should have said no, he said, "Yeah, okay."
The crowd began to thin out as they got farther from the theatre and soon it was possible to take full steps again, much to Arthur's relief. He and Merlin laughed again at the play's jokes as they made their way towards the Underground and Arthur marveled at how comfortable he felt with the other man. He'd handled other cases before, but most of those informants had wanted to spend as little time as possible with Arthur, wary of being met by prying eyes. But Merlin was different. He was professionally cautious but never held anything back; he treated Arthur like a friend and Arthur was hard-pressed not to do the same back. When they were together they were almost as likely to be discussing music or politics or films as they were business. Arthur enjoyed Merlin's company, and the way his blue eyes sparkled gold in the sunlight was a plus.
The Underground was just across the street now and they were laughing as they crossed it. Merlin's stilted yet strangely accurate impression of Elvis never failed to be funny. Merlin's head was thrown back in his laugh at his own joke and the sinews of his neck gleamed in the street lamp light. Which was why Arthur didn't see the car whizzing in front of them as they stepped out onto the street.
As soon as his foot touched the pavement, Arthur knew something was wrong. He could feel a large presence bearing down on him and looked to the left. And he blinked. The car, which had previously been going full tilt, had stopped on a dime mere inches from Arthur's thigh. Arthur staggered a few steps back and looked around wildly, half expecting to see another one barreling towards him from the other direction. There wasn't one, but there was something even more bizarre.
Merlin's eyes, whose deep blue Arthur had been admiring just minutes before, burned bright gold. Arthur knew he was staring but he couldn't help it, it was like two suns had taken up residence on Merlin's face. "Merlin," he started "what--"
But Merlin didn't answer, he just lunged at him and pulled him back to the sidewalk. As he did, it was like the second shoe had dropped and the car lurched back into life, continuing down the street as though it had never stopped. But Arthur wasn't looking at that, he was watching as the gold faded from Merlin's eyes and they returned to their natural blue. As they did, Merlin looked down at his feet awkwardly, the bright red blush on his cheeks easily visible under the street lamp. All around them, the remains of the theatre crowd went marching by them as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.
"I, uh -- I don't suppose you could pretend like nothing just happened, could you?" Merlin asked.
"No, I don't think I could," said Arthur. "Merlin, what the hell just happened?"
But Merlin continued to stare at his shoes --nice, business shoes, good for a night out at the theatre -- and refused to meet Arthur's eye.
"Merlin, you're starting to scare me. What's going on?" Arthur could handle befriending Russian double agents who sometimes looked like he should still be in nappies and he could handle maybe having some feelings for that same man if he didn't think about it too hard, but this was something different. This was something Arthur couldn't even begin to understand, and, yeah, it scared him.
"Could we maybe talk about this sometime when it's not eleven thirty at night and we're not in the middle of a busy sidewalk?" Merlin sounded on edge and desperate and, yes, he was scared too, there could be no doubt about it.
"Merlin, seriously. What is it?"
Merlin finally lifted his head and made eye contact with Arthur for the first time since they'd come back on the sidewalk. His gaze was so intense that Arthur thought he could feel it burning into him. "Please, Arthur," he said, casting a sidelong glance at the latest couple to cast them one as they past, "not here."
Arthur took a deep breath and, finally, gave in. "Fine," he said. "Tomorrow's Sunday so I have church at eleven, but if you come 'round my flat before that we can talk then, okay?"
Merlin's expression shifted from one of misery to alarm. "Wait -- come 'round your flat? Arthur, that breaks so many protocols I can't even --"
"I'm not the only one who lives in my building, you could be coming to see anyone --"
"Who just happens to live right where you do? Oh please, Arthur, how many shop boys know people who live in Kensington?" All traces of misery had left Merlin's face now and he only looked livid. His hair was all over the place from where he had tugged at it, his bowtie had come undone and was hanging loosely down his chest, and Arthur thought some gold had returned to the boy's furious eyes.
"Look, you said you wanted to talk in private," Arthur pointed out, "this is as good as you're gonna get. Would you rather I came 'round your place?"
Merlin simply stared at him for a few seconds longer, with his eyes completely blue again and his chest heaving. "No," he said after a long moment, still sounding petulant. "I'll see you in the morning."
Arthur woke up with a jolt the next morning at nine when his blaring alarm clock went off. Groaning, Arthur groped around his nightstand until he found the alarm and managed to stop the noise without even opening his eyes. He struggled to sit up in bed and slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the sun that was streaming in from the windows he'd neglected to cover the night before.
Dragging himself out of bed, he reached for his dressing gown and staggered into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a few drags while he waited for the water to boil. He was just pulling the coffee grounds out of the refrigerator and the coffee grinder out of the cupboard when his doorbell rang.
When Arthur opened the door Merlin said, "Oh. You're still in your dressing gown. Sorry."
Arthur ushered him inside the flat, glancing around to make sure no one was watching them. "It's okay," he said around the cigarette he was holding between his teeth, "did anybody follow you?"
"Of course not, Arthur, I'm a professional," Merlin answered crisply. Then, after Arthur's unimpressed stare, "I changed taxis three times, okay? Cost me a bloody fortune. Happy?"
Arthur ignored the same petulance from the night before creeping into Merlin's voice and asked, "Do you want a cup of coffee? I was just making some for myself."
Merlin deflated slightly. "Uh, sure," he said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
They had never been like this before. Even when they had first met, Merlin and Arthur had always had something to say to each other, now it felt like a great big awkward silence and Arthur hated it.
He reached into his dressing gown pocket again, pulled out another cigarette and offered it to Merlin. But Merlin shook his head. "I don't smoke. It's supposed to be bad for you, so."
Arthur stared at him in disbelief for a moment. There had been reports tying smoking to lung diseases, of course, but Arthur didn't know anyone who really took that seriously. "Suit yourself," he muttered and added, louder, "The sitting room is just through there," he gestured down the hallway, "you go sit in there, I'll bring the coffee out in a minute and we'll talk."
When Arthur returned with the coffee a few minutes later, he found Merlin sitting on the sofa, staring intently at his hands where they were clasped tightly in his lap. Arthur cleared his throat, drawing Merlin's attention, and handed him his mug, taking a seat next to him on the sofa. He gave Merlin a few moments to sip the bitter drink before he started talking. "So, are you going to explain what happened last night?" he asked as gently as he could, but he was unable to fully hide the curiosity in his voice.
Merlin closed his eyes and his knuckles whitened around the coffee mug. "Honestly, I'm not sure you'll believe me," he said.
"Try me."
"It was -- it was magic."
"What?"
"I'm a wizard."
"What."
"I told you you wouldn't believe me." Merlin sounded completely defeated, and the tone of his voice broke Arthur's heart, even as his brain whirled.
"Why don't you take a few steps back," Arthur suggested, "because as far as I know, there's no such thing as magic."
"But there is, though!" Merlin insisted. "Or, well, that's the only word I can use to describe it. It's just, as far back as I can remember, I've been able to -- do things." He stopped, gazing into his coffee mug, lost in space.
"Like what?" Arthur prompted.
"Like -- oh, I don't know. Lots of things. But mostly, move things around the room without touching them."
"Really?" Arthur felt curiosity fill him again. This was something he had to see for himself. "Can you show me?"
"Well, I'm not a performing monkey," Merlin said, indignant, but he glanced around and his gaze settled on a chair on the far side of the room. He stared intently at it and Arthur saw his eyes turn the same gold as the night before when the chair skidded three feet across the wooden floor before stopping on a dime at the edge of the carpet.
"What else can you do?" Arthur asked.
"Well," Merlin answered shakily, "time. I stop time. Not very much, but sometimes. That's what I did last night."
Arthur took all of this in. It made sense. He hadn't fully noticed the night before, but when Arthur had been out in the street with the car right at his knee, it had been like everything was stopped, not just the car, and it had all started moving again as soon as Merlin had pulled him back off the street. "Well," Arthur started shakily, "in that case, you saved my life. I appreciate it." But then a thought struck him, and he was suddenly terrified. "Is this why the KGB recruited you?" he demanded.
Merlin looked flabbergasted for a moment. "What?" he said, "No! No no no! They don't know. No one does." He looked so impossibly earnest that Arthur couldn't help but believe him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. As an afterthought Merlin added with a touch of bitterness, "Well, except my mum, but I haven't even talked to her in seven years so I don't think she's much of a threat."
"No, I wouldn't think that she is," Arthur said.
But Merlin continued to peer anxiously at him. "Is there someone you need to tell about this?" he asked. "Like, your supervisor for instance. What's her name -- Nimueh?"
"I don't need to tell Nimueh about this, Merlin," Arthur assured him and Merlin visibly relaxed. "I won't tell anyone, I promise," Arthur continued, "but just -- give me a little time, okay? To get used to it. Brave new world and all that."
Merlin was looking at him now with an expression full to the brim with gratitude, disbelief and something Arthur couldn't quite name. And now that it had all been as sorted out as it was going to be, Arthur realized with a start that they were sitting very close to each other on the sofa. Arthur's hand had come to rest on the fists Merlin was making in his lap and their knees were knocking together gently. "Thank you," Merlin said, heartfelt, "thank you so much, Arthur."
And then he leaned in just a little, but it was all he needed to do in order to close the gap between them and bring his lips to Arthur's. It was chaste, barely even a kiss, but their lips were pressed together for one long moment and Arthur had time to register that Merlin's lips were as soft as any of the women's he'd kissed before he jerked back in shock.
As he did, Merlin's eyes widened with surprise, as if he hadn't instigated the kiss. "Oh!" he exclaimed ineloquently. "Oh -- um -- sorry," he went on as Arthur continued to stare, at a loss for words. Merlin got up and nearly ran to the door. He turned in the threshold and said, once again, "Thank you for being so understanding though, I really mean that and -- I'm sorry," before he disappeared.
NOTE:
1) The Gulf of Tonkin Incident occurred in the beginning of August, 1964 (it was actually two separate incidents, on the 2nd and on the 4th) when the American naval vessel the USS Maddox was fired upon in the Gulf of Tonkin off the shore of Vietnam and triggered the "blank check" that was presented to the US military for use there. It was later determined that the second incident probably never occurred at all (not to mention the fact that the Maddox wasn't supposed to be there in the first place, since it was North Vietnamese waters) and that President Johnson used to the whole thing as an excuse to legitimize his already ongoing military operations in the region.
2) Beyond The Fringe was a British comedy troupe consisting of Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Alan Bennett and Jonathan Miller whose sketch comedy show opened on London's West End in 1960 and transferred to Broadway in New York in 1962. It was still playing in London in '64, albiet with another cast.
3) I think of this chapter as the beginning of the rising action. Everything before this was sort of background and an introduction to the characters, scenario, etc. and there's nowhere to go but up. This should be quite a long fic, I still have a lot of ground to cover on my outline, this is just the beginning.
4) I have now reached the point where I have no more completed parts left to post. I'm still going to say, though, that I will post Part 6 on Wednesday, or else I won't have any incentive to finish it before then. Thank you all for your continued support of this story and I will try my best to keep updates of it relatively frequent.
next part.