#altno.1

"It'll be fine, Tony." The softness in her voice just riled him up more. "He'll be okay."

"You don't know that..." He rubbed at his eyes but they were burning all the same.

"Well, we'll make sure he is." Steve was hovering next to him. "We'll find out what happened. And... and when, I guess."

When... How hadn't he even thought about this? How long had Peter had these... abilities? Spider-Man - and he shuddered at the thought that they were one and the same - had been out there for over 6 months. How long had his son been hiding something this crucial from him?

"I know this all seems insane..." Steve's hand had pulled him back, turned him back around so they were facing one another. "...but if anyone can figure this out it's us, okay? Peter has the very best support system anyone could ask for."

The best he could ask for. You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But Peter’d had months and not once he had come to Tony, to any of them if they were indeed telling the truth. Not once.

His eyes burned as he looked up at Steve. "What good is a support system to someone who doesn't want any help?"

"Boss, Doctor Cho is going to do a check up on Peter any moment now. Miss Potts has asked me to inform you in case you would want to be in the room for it."  

He pulled himself away from them. What was the point? What was the point in any of this?

His steps echoed off the walls. Only his steps, neither of them was trying to follow him. Thank god for small mercies.

The need to see Peter was burning under his skin, boiling hot. His pulse was still rushing in his ears as he pushed into the room. Pepper was sitting in the chair right next to Peter's bed, her hands clutching one of Peter's, Rhodey stood right behind her. He had his arms crossed, his face solemn. While Pepper never took her eyes off Peter, Rhodey did turn towards him, the ghost of a tense smile on his lips as Tony rushed into the room.

On the other side of the bed, Helen had pulled back the covers enough to expose Peter's torso. The button-up shirt was open, the skin underneath pasty white hardly distinguishable from the bandage that was wrapped around his abdomen.

Peter was lying back, his eyes on the ceiling. He hadn't even looked up as Tony had come into the room or as the door had fallen shut behind him. Only the way his chin was wobbling with suppressed emotions laid bare that he knew that it had to be Tony who had waltzed into the room.

What was it that he had done? When had he lost his kid's confidence?

Pepper scooched a little closer, the worry on her face just as deep as it had been when she had first arrived. Helen too leaned forward, a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"It's alright, sweetie. You don't have to be scared."

With a few fast steps, Tony was by Pepper's side. Rhodey had brushed past him to make space, keeping to the back of the room. One hand on the small of Pepper's back, Tony's other twitched towards his son but he hesitated. Peter's chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, fast breaths too.

"Alright, alright..." Helen looked up from Peter to Tony and back as she patted Peter's shoulder. She seemed calm, collected. At least it was an improvement to the vibe in the operating room at the Tower. "We'll just have a quick look underneath the dressing and then do an ultrasound. Nothing to worry about at all. Your mom and your dad are here for you, okay?"

Tony swallowed hard. Pepper was clasping Peter's hand so he squeezed his lower arm instead. With a light shudder, Peter's head shot up, wet eyes right on him.

"It's alright, buddy..." His skin felt cold underneath Tony's fingers. The color of his face looked a little greyish. "Kid..." Tony shook his head, placing his other hand on Peter's forehead. He wasn't hot, not running a fever. It was cold sweat. "What's wrong?"

"You don't have to be nervous, buddy." Rhodey's voice was soft, normal really. Like this was the most normal thing in the world. It was supposed to be soothing, probably, but it only drove Tony's nerves up the wall.

"Pete, hey..." Tony's hand slid down to his cheek, trying to make sure that Peter wouldn't look away even though he hadn't tried to. Not this time. "Do you feel sick? Are you..." With a heavy breath, he looked over at Helen instead. "What's happening?"

Helen's eyebrows were furrowed. "Just breathe, Peter..." Her hand was still on his shoulder as she turned towards the monitors next to Peter's bed. "I know you're nervous, but you have to tell us if something feels off, okay?"

"'m fine..." The words were quiet, mumbled. The most telling sign was that he looked away before he said it.

"Kid..." Tony pushed out a sigh. His teeth bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks. When had his kid become this comfortable lying to him?

"I'm..." His head firmly in Tony's grasp, he couldn't turn away but his eyes glanced towards Pepper before they blinked down. "It's nothing..."

"Hey, look at me." It was a struggle to keep own tone soft. "It's not nothing. You're not fine, bud. You're not. Tell me what's wrong."

There were teardrops on his lashes, his chin trembling. His left hand, the one Pepper wasn't holding, was buried in the sheets, grasping them tightly. His whole body seemed strained, tense. He wasn't okay.

Realization came to Tony too quickly.

"You're in pain, aren't you?" Tony's thumb rubbed across his temple.

With an almost inaudible whine, Peter's eyes fluttered shut, tears dropping to his cheeks. "It's... it's fine. I can... I can deal with it."

"Absolutely not," Tony grunted through gritted teeth. "Helen?"

Right away, Pepper leaned closer, the emotion in her voice thick. "Sweetheart, why didn't you say so?" Her breath was trembling. "We're here to help, honey. We're right here."

It took only moments for Helen to retrieve the pain meds from the nearby tray.

"Dad... Daddy... please..." Peter had pulled his left arm close, away from Helen, grabbing onto Tony's sleeve instead. "Please, I don't want it."

The words hit him like daggers. Why? Why would he choose to stay in pain? Why wouldn't he take his help, even now?

"Shh, it's okay." It took all of Tony's energy to keep a lid on his over-boiling agitation. "You don't want to be in pain. This will help."

"Please... Dad, please, I don't want it..." Peter's eyes shifted to the side, eyeing Helen with dread. "It... it's weird. It... I'll heal... I'll heal so fast, I promise... I don't... I don't want it..."

"Buddy..."

Words failed Tony as his emotions were spiraling. Pepper was muffling the quiet sobs spilling from her lips with one hand, the other one was still clasping Peter's. With another quick motion, Helen didn't hesitate and put the syringe down on the table next to Peter's bed.

"Okay, let's all calm down, hm?" The smile on her face seemed practiced but not misplaced. "Peter, can you look at me?"

Tony's hand slid off his face. He placed it on Pepper's back instead. His other hand was on Peter's shoulder. The thought of letting go of him made his stomach turn. Patiently, Helen waited until Peter had turned just enough to truly look at her. The smile was still on her lips, balanced with the thoughtful frown on her forehead.

"Peter, your injuries were quite severe. You know that, right? You remember what happened?"

His chin was still trembling but he nodded.

"Alright." Helen nodded at him. "Can you tell me what you remember?"

In an instant, Peter's face fell. His eyes shifted back to Pepper and Tony if only for a short moment before he lowered them down to his sheets.

With a sense of patience Tony was miles away from, Helen continued. "I need to know that you understand the severity of the situation, Peter. I understand that you want to refuse treatment at this point. If you..." She sighed but her eyes never left Peter's face. "If you want to talk about it without anyone else in the room, your parents could—"

"No!" The words had rolled off his tongue before he could stop himself. Loud. Sharp. Desperation swinging in every syllable. But truth be told, no... he wouldn't have stopped his tongue even if he'd had that kind of control over his instincts.

All eyes were on him, all except Peter's.

"No," he repeated, a little bit calmer, feigning collectedness. "We're not leaving."

"Tony..." Rhodey's arm was on his shoulder, trying to pull him back gently. Did they in all seriousness think he'd leave Peter's side now?

"You heard what I said." His voice came out quieter than he felt. Something at least. They'd blame hysteria or some bullshit if he wouldn't be able to keep it together.

"Tony..." Rhodey's voice was low, quiet, the sounds almost hissed under his breath through his teeth. "I know you're scared and freaked out and—"

"Stop." Thankfully, his voice didn't shake at all. They had no idea what he was feeling. How his heart was racing, aching in his chest. What this was like.

"It's... it's fine, I... I don't... don't want them to... to leave."

For a moment, Tony thought he had hallucinated, but no. Peter.

"It's... It's fine..." His head was bowed low, his chest rising and falling with a shudder at every breath. "I do. I do remember what... what happened. I... I know it was... bad. But I... I heal fast. I promise, I do..." His eyes flickered up at last, red-rimmed as he squinted at Tony. "I promise. It's... it's fine, Dad. I don't need it."

Tony was at a loss for words. How could he choose to be in pain?

"Peter..." Helen crouched down next to the bed, her head now level with Peter's. "I do need to know what you remember, okay? Can you tell me what happened out there?"

With a series of short nods, Peter's eyes shifted to the back of the room. To Rhodey first, then to the wall.

"I was with Ned when... when I heard. It... there was something on twitter so... so I went because... because I knew that..." He swallowed hard. "It looked like it would be big. It... it felt like it would be and... and so I went out."

Tony's eyes were pressed shut. He tried not to think of that call. How he had told Peter to stay safe. Tried not to think of every clue he had missed, every opportunity he had botched to stop this.

"I... er... I was close to the park and... and on the rooftop of... of one of those buildings... there were two of them and I... I should have had them. It shouldn't have been hard. I just... I messed up and..."

Tony's eyes shot open but Peter wasn't looking at him. He had also completely left out the part of how it had been Tony who had sent him after these two creatures. Who had sent his own son into the situation that had left him injured. That had almost cost him his life.

Peter was just staring ahead into space, his pupil flickering from left to right like he was seeing the scene play out in front of him.

"I managed to push down one of them but then the other one... it shot at me... with its weapon. I just... everything went blurry and I tried to push it away, I did but it just... it got to me first and I fell back and... and then... and then..." He sucked in a shuddering breath, his jaw shaking with emotion. "I don't... I don't really know how it happened, I just... I couldn't move and..."

His voice was heavy with tears. He didn't sound anything like himself, so lost, so scared still. Tony's hand was still on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly but Peter didn't act like he was feeling any of it. Next to him, Pepper had hidden her face against Tony's side, stifling her own tears.

"I was just stuck and then Dad..." He sucked in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. His eyes cleared a little, like he was coming back to the present. They shifted to his right to Pepper first, then up at Tony before he quickly looked away. "Dad was there and... and I just... I tried to move but... but I was stuck and... and I couldn't... I couldn't..."

Without taking a second to think, Tony pushed forward. "Shh, it's okay, baby." His arms pulled Peter close. Every muscle on him seemed to shiver, his wet sobs muffled by Tony's clothes. "It's all okay. I'm right here. We're right here for you."

Tony whispered it into his hair again and again, his eyes closed as his little boy clung to him. It was a relief to feel him crave the comfort Tony was so willing to give. A relief, yes. And a horrible thing to think about his own son. He was hurting, physically, emotionally. Tony's own frail ego was hardly a matter of concern right now.

Pepper was hovering close to him, a hand between Tony's shoulders, the other surely reassuring Peter as well. There was an uncomfortable pull on his spine the way he was bent over the bed, his thighs were shaking from holding him up in that weird angle, after the day's exhaustion, too, but none of it really mattered while Peter was still shivering in his arms.

"Helen's going to help, buddy, okay? You'll feel so much better. So much better when—"

"Please... please don't make me..." Peter's fingers dug into his upper arms where he was holding on for dear life. "Daddy, please... I don't want it..."

Tony's patience was hanging by a thin thread. "You're in pain, bud..." His voice was low, crackling with emotion. "We're just trying to help. Everyone is just trying to help..."

With a grunt, Peter let go of him. It felt like someone had pulled out the rug underneath Tony's feet. "You don't... you don't understand... just... just trust me... please, I—"

"Trust you?" The words had slipped out before he could stop himself. Tony's eyes were burning. The bitterness in his tone tasted foul.

"Alright, let's all take a breath..." Rhodey sounded so collected, almost calm. With two long steps, he was right next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "You don't want to do this now, Tony. Now's not the time."

Tony's pulse was throbbing in his throat, threatening to choke him. He let go of Peter, let himself be pulled back a step, then two by Rhodey who put himself between Tony and the bed.

"Look at me," he hissed through his teeth, quietly but clear. "Now's not the time for this."

With a shaky nod, Tony turned around, his eyes on the naked wall. How was he supposed to stomach all this? With a low grunt, he spun back around. Rhodey was right. This wasn't the time to feel... whatever all that was that was compressing his chest. Peter was still in pain. Everything else didn't matter right now.

Helen had stepped closer again, a hand on Peter's arm like it would keep him from shivering. She cleared her throat, her tone almost sunny in comparison. "The railing you fell on, it hurt you right here." Helen was lightly tapping the bandage. "Do you remember how you got back to the Tower?"

He nodded, teeth gnawing on his lip, avoiding Tony's eyes. "Dad, he... he carried me."

Tony could still feel his weight in his arms, how much he had been shaking even then as the pain set in.

"Do you remember what happened in the operating room?"

"I..." Peter swallowed hard. "The anesthesia. It didn't work."

"No, it didn't." Helen frowned, studying Peter closely. "I gave you some of Captain Rogers' meds instead."

"Please..." Peter whispered. "Please, I... I don't want it. It's... It feels... It feels bad."

"It dampens your senses, doesn't it?"

"I just... please... I need them..."

His senses? Tony shook his head. "What do you mean, his senses?"

"It's something Captain Rogers tends to experience. His senses were elevated by the serum and the medication doesn't just dampen the pain but those as well." With a sigh, Helen squeezed his arm. "There is nothing to be afraid of right now, Peter. You're safe here."

"But... but what if... what if..." He pressed his eyes shut.

"They are all gone." She crouched down, her face once again on the same level with his. "Your dad and Sam brought their ship down. Sank it in the ocean."

At that, his eyes shot open. He stared at her for a moment before he looked back up, right at Tony, his eyes wide. "You... you did?"

It took all the energy he had left to keep his face soft. "Where do you think I've been, bud? Had to make sure none of them would touch you again."

Peter's chin was wobbling, his eyes dropping.

"Peter?" Helen pulled his attention back to her. "How about we start with half a dose, hm? It took two to put you under. Maybe half a dose will help with the pain."

His gaze was somewhere in the space next to her, eyes unfocused.

"Peter...." She held onto his arm a little tighter. "When you're in pain, your body tenses up, tries to find relief by putting less pressure on the injury, straining your body and it makes it more difficult to heal."

He blinked slowly, then turned back towards her, a deep frown on her face. "But... but I was always fine."

She tilted her head. "But you're not fine now, are you? You're in pain."

Lip caught between his teeth, he kept his head bowed low then at last, Peter nodded softly.

"You're not healing well. The healing factor..." She sighed and gave her head a little shake. "We don't know a lot about it. We don't know if yours works the same as Captain Rogers', but one thing seems to be the same: it's affected by your mental state. Your physical state, too. Nutrition. Energy. You lost a lot of blood, Peter. It takes a lot of energy and right now, you need all the energy you can spare to recover from the procedure in the cradle."

Peter wasn't looking at either one of them. At some point, he had grabbed his own hands, ringing them slowly like it would hide how much he was still shaking. Pain? Nerves? Who even knew at this point. Likely Peter wouldn't be able to tell himself. Pepper was still sitting in the chair next to his bed, her own hand clinging to the arms of the chair, knuckles white. She never took her eyes off Peter.

As the tension only grew, Helen slowly rose to her feet. "Let me set up the ultrasound for now, okay? Let's see how things are going."

Tony held his breath as she cut the bandage around Peter's stomach. He had braced himself, expecting the remnants of the ghastly wound underneath it that he hadn’t been able to look away from on the rooftop. But there was only unblemished skin where the metal rod had pierced Peter’s body. With a strangled sigh, Pepper turned just enough to look up at Tony at last, her lashes wet with tears like she too had expected worse. It was only Cho’s magic though. Without hesitation, Tony stepped up next to Pepper, a hand on her back that moved up into her hair as she pressed her face against his side.

"I made sure to seal the wound with the cradle. It might look all heal up like this, but trust me, the tissue underneath still has some way to go." Helen's fingers lightly rubbed over the skin. "Do you feel a difference when I do this?" Her fingers moved further to the side, back and forth, until Peter shook his head.

"It's... It's... a bit... numb..."

Helen hummed and reached for the ultrasound behind her. "We patched it up with synthetic tissue but it will take a bit of time till the nerve fibers reconnect. And there's steps we can take if it shouldn't fix itself."

Step by step, she guided them through the ultrasound. Pepper had grabbed Tony's hand tightly, staring at the monitor, while Tony's eyes were still on Peter's face. He didn't look up. Not at Tony. Not at the projection of his kidney, where the metal rod had stabbed him.

"As you can see, the internal tissue damage will take a little bit longer to heal. I would recommend waiting though. Peter's energy levels are relatively low and it seems like his body is entirely focused on mending the wound itself. I'm not sure how he would react to another session in the cradle with all the energy it has taken out of him, plus the blood loss he suffered from the injury."

"Can we just... give him a transfusion?" Tony's throat was dry. "Or is it... did his blood type change? Can we not—"

Helen held up both hands to stop him. "Those are all questions we need to figure out. I do think a transfusion will be helpful."

"Okay." Tony had pushed up the sleeve of his shirt before she had been done talking. "Where do you want me? Right here, or—"

"Tony..." Once again, Rhodey's hand was on his arm. He shook his head. "You can't donate blood right now."

"What? Why the hell not?"

Helen cleared her throat. "James is right. You've been injured and spent all day fighting. It will likely knock you out."

"So?" It came out as a hiss. "I don't give a fuck! If he needs blood then—"

"Tony." Rhodey tugged on his arm, turned him just enough to face him once more. "Get it together. Nobody is helped by any of this."

Before Tony could argue, Helen spoke up again. "Captain Rogers' blood type will be a good fit, Tony."

"What, because he didn't fight all day," Tony growled. "He didn't get knocked around?"

"It's not the same," Rhodey mumbled. "You know that."

Pepper had gone quiet, she wasn't even looking up at him now. No, she wouldn't take his side in this, who was he kidding? Peter... Peter didn't look at anyone at all, was just staring down at his hands like he was fine with this. Fine with taking Rogers' help when he wouldn’t take his own father’s.

With a grunt, Tony pulled his arm out of Rhodey's grip. "I want him home. After the transfusion. If he just needs to rest, I want him home."

"Of course," Helen nodded, like it was a given that they'd do whatever he'd ask of them. "And about the pain meds?"

For another moment, Tony's eyes were on Peter's face but he didn't make a sound, no indication that he'd take them willingly.

"Let's not pretend like my opinion matters in it."

Peter twitched, but he didn't look up. With a shake of his head, Tony huffed out a breath and pushed past Rhodey towards the door.

"Let me know when you're done here."

He had a jet to organize and a pillow to scream into.

###

Log entry #7

The new gadget Bartisch proves to be useful, but it is in need of adjustment. The following problems are: toggle failure and dehydration on the user’s eye (must figure out if this is due to the overheat or the width.) The remote control malfunctions when there is not enough moisture in the user’s eye, hence damaging the hydrophilic plastic that protects the receiver. We cannot have a gadget that overworks itself to a point where it ruins the toggle function itself. For safety's sake, we have decided to use this gadget on only one eye rather than a pair.

Log entry #16

Bartisch cannot be reduced any thinner without interfering with the ring of electronics that includes a camera, display, processor, eye tracker and electronics detector. It is advisable to form a protocol upon using this gadget: 10 seconds of activation, then a cooldown of 20 seconds. The purpose of this gadget is to enable the usage of primary weapons instead of secondary handguns; and while it has come in handy to counter the majority of opponents' electronics, 10 seconds is proven to be inadequate for a decision making of higher caliber. We are at discussion of its practicability, and the possibility of adding an eye drop with a specialised lens solution.

Log entry #18

The project may take a different turn. While I agree with Bartisch taking different forms such as visors or glasses that are akin to Eyenox Model III and Glance Smart Glasses respectively, I am inclined to continue the project as it originally intended to be. In all honesty, what we have done with the gadget is extremely effective, especially against opposition who are on par with Rainbow’s level of technology. It is a naïve notion to assume the terrorists are at rest because they are out of our peripheral. We have to grow faster than they can ever imagine. 

Log entry #19

I cannot fault the Research and Development department for the decision they have made, but I am grateful to carry on as a sole developer. Álvarez and Enatsu are demanded for a multiple of other duties, so it is understandable for them to drop out. I shall continue regardless.

Log entry #27

The gadget exceeded my expectations. This week alone I was able to:

- Shoot through soft breach against Estrada (five head shots.)

- Track Evans’ movement behind her shield (increase in flank success rate by 87%.)

- Destroy EDD MK IIs (24 out of 25.)

- Destroy Black Eyes (24 out of 27.)

- Destroy Grzmot Mines (21 out of 24.)

- Destroy Gu Mines (30 out of 40.)

- Destroy Yokai (10 out of 10.)

- Direct the attacking operatives to disable following gadgets on spot - Prisma, Evil Eye, Mag-NET, Pest Launcher, Banshee Sonic Defense, Kóna Station, ADS-MKIV, Signal Disruptor, CED-1, Rtila.

Having Bartisch as my eye while aiming my rifle allows me a faster entrance into the hostile premise, so I am able to rush in faster. 

The downside is the glitched vision when I am near the Signal Disruptors. In the heat of the moment, it is difficult to toggle Bartisch out as I am being shot. I am also very apprehensive of standing near CED-1 or Rtila, as the electrocution effect on my body will not be favourable to the gadget. The lens is primarily plastic, which is supposed to be an insulating material that does not conduct electricity. However, the other parts that provide the gadget’s very function - I cannot guarantee that it won’t do any harm. I should focus more on increasing the activation time than anything else, because 10 seconds is still too short. Eye drop is a great relief, but I was able to put it on after the practice missions.

Log entry #31

I am taking a leave for the sake of my health. There are no major damages on my cornea and pupil, but a tiny scratch on the sclera has been agonisingly itchy. It’s proven that the lens is not supposed to be worn more than 12 hours, unlike the normal lens for one’s eyesight. Since my other eye is fine, I can stay at the laboratory and continue with the written works. 

Log entry #32

This another entry written on the same day as #31. I know it is not recommended to push myself any further, but I had to test out new adjustments with my other eye. As of now, the only way to increase the 10 seconds mark is to decrease the amount of heat it absorbs. Having the iris of the lens white is a slight improvement. Category 4 sunglasses are proven to work as well, as the glasses are designed to deflect most sunlight while having sensitive vision. Whether it is appropriate for indoor shooting, however, is questionable.

Log entry #40

I was fully healed and back on the field. Testing has been successful but quite a number of people said I look extremely tired. Elias said my eye appeared bloodshot. I am aware of my blindness when it comes to ambition as such, but once I have the drive, it is hard to stop. But I guess it’s also in the best of my interest to take a break before this project gets shut down anyway. Maybe I should wear it in a non-stress inducing environment, so I am not exerting too much while wearing Bartisch. It was entertaining to see how many electronics are around us, something small from mobile phones to other miscellaneous objects in the base.

Log entry #42

I am formally warned to not experiment outside of the field. I understand them, but I hope they also understand where I am coming from. We, as Rainbow, need to step up. Why can’t they see the risk is worthwhile? Frankly, the last breakthrough we had was last year with Banshee Sonic Defense. Nighthaven is in their own league, and I dare say they might be better prepared against whatever the terrorist is cooking up while staying hidden from us. I’ve seen what they can do. They flaunter the pinnacle of technology. Yes, we have a handful of fascinating tactical gadgets, but we’re also an open book. As an organisation, we have been advertising what we can do by showcasing our missions through Tournaments. What has become of us? What does the new Six’s vision entail? I cannot write any longer here. My sight is growing dim. I will have to make shorter entries.

Log entry #46

My condition is perfectly fine. I know so. It was my mistake to enter the premises too early and trigger Grzmot, but I have shot down most of the opposition's gadgets, haven’t I? They ask me to use my old model of Spectre, but it’s far too slow and time consuming. Who knew a few seconds can make a difference in one’s habit? I cannot walk in with just a pistol - I refuse to go back the old ways where I get shot down while sweeping the perimetre. Just a few more trial runs, and then I will make sure to provide a model that is safer to use. Just you wait.

Log entry #49

Scraped my shin against the edge of a concrete block. Pain level is somewhere on 8 but the skin that got ripped off makes it look worse than it is. I could see where I was going, but the sun’s flare had me blink momentarily. I honestly wish they would stop the fuss - someone dared to suggest that other operators can delegate my responsibility, but I disagree. It will be fine - I will be fine after some rest. It’s better to get this done and over with while I have ideas in my head.

Log entry #50

Left eye is itchy. Right eye carried out the test.

Log entry #51

Left eye had a thick layer of mucus. Right eye started to become itchy.

Log entry #52

No testing. Am on medical leave for two weeks.

Log entry #53

I’ve asked to reduce the leave for a week. There is still so much left for me to do.

Log entry #56

I had the time to browse through our database and saw my reports for Bartisch are ‘rejected.’ The entries for the project are under maintenance altogether. 

Log entry #57

Since they cannot be convinced, no matter how many times I raise the issue, I have taken the matter into my own hands. Of course they try to shut me down, stating how I am not suitable to work in my conditions. My eyes have healed and I am completely fine to carry out what I need to do. It seems like no one knows what needs to be done around here, and I don’t mean to boast but what I have here is revolutionary. When will they realise this will be useful against the dangers that are yet to come? 

Log entry #59

They do not know. Marius might have taken my keys away to let them in my office, and let them take other prototypes of Bartisch. I am on close surveillance, as I can see camera batteries around me. They don’t know that I have two models in my drawer, and yes, I am aware of my misconduct here. But just one more test. One more trial to complete this and it will all be fine. This one doesn’t have white iris, so it won’t stand out as much. Tomorrow will be the day. We’re hitting the 15 seconds mark on both eyes.

Whoever has been reading out the log entries stops for a moment. The breeze whisks on her arm; she shivers and feels the goosebump tensing the skin. Amid quiet chatters from the back, the voice speaks once again. “Is this all that you have written before the incident?”

Since she doesn’t feel the need to reply, Monika stays quiet, just like how she has been for the last two hours. 

They press for an answer. “Miss Weiss, we need to know. The court will do their best to pin this case against you, but we can have your side of the story. What you were compelled to do, and how this was for the sake of fighting against the unknown. They need to know that your actions had a just cause.”

“I’d rather get what I deserve.” The rasp is only natural, for she kept her mouth shut until now. “It was against the regulations. The policy of how we secure our technology. I could have misused it elsewhere, so what they claim against me is rightful by the law.”

“Monika!” The way he raises his voice. Judging by how her mattress rocks, it must be Elias. “You aren’t going to let them treat you like this. Damn it- they can’t do this to you!”

“Is Dominic around?” She reaches out and warmth envelopes her almost immediately. “Please tell him it’s not his fault. I’m the one who’s done this upon myself.”

“It’s better that he’s not here. The guy has been a bit of a mess.” Another voice she can recognise easily. Marius must be a little further back.

“Miss Weiss, I hate to interrupt but there are things we can do. I understand the electrocution is part of the regular routines here, and they are aware that you knew of the danger. I am here on behalf of mister Brunsmeier, as he requested me to be your attorney. We need to appeal that the incident wasn’t meant to be, and how it wouldn’t have happened if they accepted your reasoning in the first place.”

The chill draft combs her hair. “Elias, can you close the window for me?” She hears the tap and click. “I know he is trying to do what’s best for me, but this is my fault. I am the one who pushed past my limit, and tripped onto the metal wall that’s charged with more than 70 milliampere.”

“Are you fucking serious?” The quiver in his voice is all too clear. “Stop being stubborn. You aren’t going to jail. Not in this condition-”

“What condition, Elias?” Monika cuts in, as her chest starts to heave with a certain kind of pressure she felt upon hearing what happened to her. “You think there are no criminals in worse conditions than I am? For fuck’s sake, I know what I’ve done. I stole what should have been kept away and abused it. That's a cold hard fact.”

“Monika-”

“I think she needs some time alone.” Marius is calm. That’s a sure sign of him putting a restraint on himself. “We will come back, Monika. Stay put.” There is swishing of fabrics; Elias denies to be moved away while Marius beckons the man to move further away from her. “Just know that we’re always here for you.”

The door closes, but there is a presence next to her. “Miss Weiss, they want what’s best for you.”

“I know.” She lets out a breath and a knot is undone. Tears begin to stream, and any other emotions that she has been withholding seeps out. “I didn’t want them to see. Anything I say at this point will break me, and they will be able to see that while I can’t.” Her lifelong regret began when the lens reacted with Dominic’s CED-1. Despite being covered by a film of plastic, Bartisch was the finest concentrate of electronic components. Of course they were all effective conductors, so imagine the gadget burning up almost instantly, effectively cooking her eye to damage all the necessary nerves. She was declared permanently blind after rigourous surgery, and the Rainbow declared dishonorable discharge upon her. 

This is her demise. The extent of what an arrogant fool can do. Monika Weiss should have put a reign on her obsession against challenges. 

"I don't need you to babysit me, Merlin," Arthur argued. As he tried to step around the warlock who was blocking him from leaving the camp.

Merlin scoffed. "No, I do enough of that on the daily already." He moved the same way Arthur did, not giving him a chance to escape past him.

"This is just your normal recklessness that's bound to happen." Merlin mirrored Arthur's steps again, leaving the King growing more and more agitated by the second.

"What's bound to happen, Merlin, is us not having firewood if you don't let me pass."

"No, what's bound to happen, Arthur, is you," Merlin pointed at Arthur, "doing something stupid and getting yourself killed."

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna die, Merlin."

"Well, you seem to do it quite a lot."

"Well I wouldn't be standing here If I had, would I?" Arthur threw out his arms as if stating a point.

"You know how many times I've revived you from the dead?"

"What?!" Arthur's eyes widened.

"One too many times to be normal in fact."

"What's normal?" Daegal asked Mordred next to him. All of them tried to block out the bickering duo as they continued to set up camp.

Mordred shrugged his shoulders before he ruffled Daegal's hair and got back to the task at hand. Far too used to ignoring the back and forth arguing between Arthur and Merlin. In fact, everyone was far too used to it. Even the queen who was sitting, humming and trying to strike up a conversation with Freya.

"Remember that arrow?"

"I died?!" The king exclaimed.

Merlin froze as if thinking for a second before he answered unsurely, "Sorta?"

"And you're just telling me this now!?"

"Well!" Merlin waved his arms as if addressing the elephant in the room. Or that was previously in the room and now was out in the open. As magic had been used to save the once young prince's life.

"I knew I had an arrow in my back!"

Merlin scoffed, "kinda hard to miss a big protruding arrow, you prat."

"Oh, You little-"

"How about I go?" Mordred quickly stood up and interrupted before the two killed each other.

"Sword—magic," he gestures before letting his arms fall to his sides, "it'll take ten minutes at most. We'll scout out, get the firewood, and come back." He proposed. Merlin crossed his arms not looking convinced while Arthur, who looked still reluctant, was finer with Mordred tagging along than others.

Mordred sighed and rolled his eyes when Merlin didn't let up his gaze. "Either me or it looks like Arthur's going alone."

Merlin all but rolled his eyes before he threw up his arms, "Fine!"

"See now you have my seventeen-year-old knight babysitting me."

"Wouldn't have to if that seventeen-year-old knight wasn't smarter than you," Merlin mumbled under his breath.

"I beg your pardon-"

"It's getting dark Arthur," Mordred quickly put himself between the two men, "we need to go."

Arthur let up, quickly turning and marching away from the scene, sword drawn. All while Mordred let out a relieved breath from preventing another hour-long argument between the two men.

"Mordred," Merlin called his name, grabbing his attention as he spun back around.

"Keep him safe."

Mordred looked over his shoulder and grimaced, "He makes it quite hard."

"He's a stubborn prat, you know that."

"Mordred!"

He chuckled while Merlin rolled his eyes. "Go," Merlin gestured in the direction Arthur had gone, "and be careful."

"Always am." Mordred teased as he followed the path Arthur had taken and caught up to him. Merlin sighed as he watched the boy run off, hoping his words carried the smallest sliver of truth.

"What was that with Merlin?" Mordred asked while picking up some twigs as Arthur scouted the area some ways from the camp.

"What with Merlin?"

Mordred shrugged his shoulders, "dunno, you two always fight like a married couple-"

"We don't-"

Mordred gave him a pointed look. Arthur quickly stood down from his statement he couldn't defend as the boy was right.

"I just mean, it's been different between you two."

"I'm still me and Merlin is still Merlin as far as I'm concerned, Mordred." He poked at the greenery with his sword as Mordred picked up another couple of sticks.

"No, it's been like this since…" The event Arthur knew he was talking about hung heavy in the air. The night he found out the unimaginable of his best friend and many other people.

Arthur softened his voice, "I meant what I said, Mordred. Magic or what you believe doesn't make me care about any of you any less."

Mordred lowered his gaze and kicked at a rock, "doesn't change how you've been with Merlin."

Arthur sighed, "Mordred I-"

His voice paused as he heard a twig snap. Knowing it wasn't Mordred as the young man was still in one place, he turned towards the sound.

"What?"

He brought his finger to his lips, shushing him before gesturing in the direction of the sound. Mordred bent down and dropped the collected twigs before moving his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Another crack made them both dart around. Mordred drew his blade as he moved closer to Arthur. Both of them were now aware of the heavy presence that was all around them.

"Sire?" Mordred's voice barely made noise coming out of his mouth.

"We're surrounded," Arthur answered.

Another crack was all he needed before he placed his hand on Mordred's back. "Go." As soon as Mordred stepped back a step, rustling fallen leaves under his feet. All the hidden surrounding faces revealed themselves, charging at them.

"Run!"

Mordred ran in the first direction his body took him. Arthur a step behind him before they were both cut off by more bandits. His eyes landed on an open space that led deeper into the forest.

Arthur's hand quickly found Mordred again pushing him in front of him, "that way!"

The greenery guided them as his sword was raised to block the oncoming blades. Giving them both time to disappear behind rustling leaves and to jump over catching vines and fallen trees. His eyes glued to Mordred's back while simultaneously searching the oncoming sites for a place they could call safety for a minute.

His feet came to a halt, seeing an overgrowth big enough to hide behind for the two of them. Mordred caught on as he followed his gaze and then his steps before they were both had their backs pressed up a wall of nature.

He felt his hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. The many and hurried footsteps were almost frantic like a line of ants as they came in their deafening herd before disappearing. The silence was bliss to Arthur's ears as all he could hear was Mordred's and his own relieved exhale.

Arthur scoffed, "Well, this is going fantastic." Sarcasm etched his words as his grip loosened ever so slightly from his sword.

Mordred's own huff of breath accompanied with a small smile answered his words. What was supposed to be a quick trip of scouting and collecting firewood turned all more problematic than Arthur had expected. Though perhaps it was already that way before he had even left the camp...

"We should get back to the others." Mordred peaked around the overgrowth, making sure the faded footsteps were right rather than a trick.

Arthur nodded and sheathed his blade. "We'll go a different way back. We don't need these bandits following us."

"Are we gonna tell Merlin?" Mordred quickly sheathed his own blade while Arthur looked for the higher path that led just the same way.

"Tell Merlin what?" Arthur grabbed the above ledge, hoisting himself up.

Mordred shrugged his shoulders, "that he was right." He took a few steps back, before jumping up, Arthur grabbed his other hand to help him up.

Arthur scoffed, "I feel like his ego is already too big with the whole Emrys thing."

"For you to talk of Merlin and ego," Mordred muttered under his breath.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Mordred's gaze met his only for it to quickly flicker down to his shoes. A sheepish look painted itself across his face.

Arthur moved to open his mouth, but the rustling caught his attention once again. He cursed under his breath before he reached for the hilt of his sword.

Time was not on their side as a bandit leapt from the foliage. Giving Arthur little open chance to unsheathed his sword and Mordred equally so as well.

"Mordred!" He could only watch as the sword was raised above the Druid, before it came down onto his shoulder, knocking Mordred off-balance to fall down from the ledge.

Arthur took the opportunity and pulled out his sword. With the bandit still recovering from the momentum into the ground, Arthur pinned it further into the ground and drove his sword through the man.

He yanked his sword free as the man tumbled to the ground, lifeless. Arthur immediately sheathed his sword as he jumped off the ledge to find Mordred who was leaned up against a tree. His face twisted in pain and his hand clamped over his shoulder where a bit of blood was seeping through.

There were hundreds of rapid footsteps and shouting in the distance that was closing in. Arthur didn't have time to dress his wound there.

"Can you stand?"

Arthur barely waited for an answer before he pulled Mordred to his feet. A yelp of pain surprised him as the Druid took his weight off of one of his legs.

"My ankle."

The nearing sound of the stampede of feet only grew louder, and his heart only beat faster with every second that passed.

"Come on." Arthur took most of Mordred's weight onto him as he tried to help him and find another way to get out of their situation.

"Over there." Mordred pointed into nothing lush greenery making Arthur think maybe he had hit his head as well on the fall down. "Behind the vines and everything, there's an entrance to a cave."

Arthur didn't have time with the impending footsteps to check for a head injury on the Druid, so he took his word for it. He made his way over and hesitantly pushed the branches and vines aside in one quick swipe. And much to his surprise found exactly what Mordred had said.

He helped Mordred through and into the tunnel more so to say than a cave till they reached the wall at the back. The quiet hum of everything, bliss to his ears as he helped Mordred sit and knelt next to him.

"How did you know this place?"

Mordred lips curled up into a small smile, "I used to live at a camp as a child around these areas, we would come to play in here."

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted before he even had a chance to voice them by shouting commands and the drudged footsteps. The oncoming march of death or war, loud pounding steps as an announcement of what was to come.

He met Mordred's gaze as a distant in here was shouted.

"Stay down."

He stood up in front of Mordred and drew his sword once again. The motion was almost like Deja Vu, only Mordred had been much smaller and they knew help was coming. This time more than twenty men were running towards them and no one knew they were in trouble.

Mordred knew even Arthur couldn't handle that many men. He would be overwhelmed very quickly and they would kill him because they wanted them dead. If his shoulder was anything to tell by their wanted actions.

"Arthur?"

"Just stay down, Mordred." Arthur's words tried to provide comfort even though it wasn't okay. There were only two of them and Mordred was hurt, against more than twenty men.

Arthur's hand loosened and tightened around the hilt of his blade as he saw them finally appear as well as the bandits finally seeing them. The steps that were a paced walk quickly picked up into a sprint.

Mordred felt his breaths catch in his throat and become rapid and heavy all at once. Arthur would die. There was no doing anything to prevent it.

He could only watch as the bandits grew near and raised their weapons to strike. As if everything came to a pause for a brief second before the strike. Arthur's own blade raised from his side ready for a pointless notion.

Mordred couldn't watch. His hands flew to his ears as his eyes screwed shut.

"No!"

Arthur's blade sliced through the air as every person raging towards them was thrown back against the tunnel walls. All of them laid flaccid on the floor like discarded play dolls.

He froze for a second before he realized what had actually happened. His sword clanged to the floor as he turned around to face Mordred. Who was worse off than him, with nothing but panic in his eyes and struggling to calm his breathing.

"Hey," he got down to Mordred's side, "you're okay, we're both okay, alright?"

Mordred's eyes flickered to the damage done to the tossed bodies across the floor of the cave. "I'm sorry."

"No, hey You kept us safe, " He grabbed Mordred's attention to him. "That's what you always say your magic is for right?"

Mordred nodded his head but his facade was anything but calm or collected. Still shaken up with breaths coming quickly.

Arthur managed a sympathetic smile. "Come here, Mordred." He pulled him into his embrace, Mordred accepted the gesture as arms quickly wrapped around Arthur's neck.

They both stayed like that for a few seconds before Mordred pulled back with soft-spoken words on his tongue.

"Are they dead?" There wasn't hope in his voice for the words spoken but fear.

"Let me check."

Arthur got up and walked over to the nearest person among the many thrown people. Limbs frivolously placed where they had landed on impact.

But Arthur could hardly believe that with just a simple scared screamed word, Mordred was able to do all that. With intention or without, Arthur didn't know, usually leaving the magical business to Morgana and Merlin. Yet the warning of Mordred's magic to him still looped in his head of Merlin's words.

He bent down, placing his fingers to the pulse point of one man. The drumming pulse was there, they were still alive, just knocked unconscious.

Arthur hated the surprise he felt at the realisation of life rather than Death. He expected death because magic was at use.

Did he associate everything with magic to death? Good and bad all the same, when in a contradicted regard, he was the bad of it. For death had always been caused by his and his father's hand when it came to magic, not the magic users themselves.

Magic itself was never good or bad, no such thing existed. For even if there was no beating pulse beneath the pads of his fingers, to call Mordred bad for being scared and protecting himself. It would have once been many years ago, but not now.

Even at the sight as he looked back over to the boy, hurt and still shaken up huddled in the corner of the cave. He should be scared of Mordred, his magic, told to Arthur of its strengths that even Merlin and the Druids who raised Mordred were unsure of.

To be scared of a boy who was more scared than him made Arthur sick. His own fathers fear led to countless and hypocritical deaths of the innocent.

Arthur swallowed hard before he nodded his head towards Mordred. He saw as the relief washed over him, death never once being Mordred's intention.

"We should move from here soon." Arthur got up, and made his way back over to Mordred, "I don't know how long they'll stay out for."

Mordred's hand was still covering his bleeding shoulder that Arthur had yet to see the taken damage. "Let me see." He grimaced when Mordred flinched at his poking and prodding to the wound.

He reached down to his tunic, tearing off a section before he wrapped and tied it off to stop some of the bleeding. Merlin would be mad at him later for that...

"Come on, let's try getting you up."

Mordred nodded before Arthur grabbed his non-injured arm and helped get him to his feet. Only to quickly catch him again, as a sharp inhale escaped his mouth followed by a suppressed gasp of pain.

"I got you."

Mordred shook his head, "I'm okay." He pushed himself away from Arthur only to almost collapse again.

Arthur grabbed him, not wanting to put up with Mordred pretending he wasn't in serious pain, he quickly guided him back to the floor.

Arthur sighed, "Not fooling me, Kid."

Mordred let out an airy laugh before grimacing in pain again. His hand came back up to his shoulder that was jolted from him laughing.

"It'll be okay." Arthur let his hand rest lightly on Mordred's leg.

Though he hardly believed his own words because all in reality, nothing of anything was anywhere near okay...

~*~

Merlin and Freya's laughtered filled the air as they both helped prepare supper. All the others all spread out doing the same around the camp to help out.

"Oh, your mother's lovely." Freya said as she caught her breath, nothing but adoration in her voice. "She even gets the King of Camelot to help out."

Merlin chuckled, "Arthur isn't scared of many things but apparently my mother is one of those few things."

He collected all the cleaned picked ingredients into the bowl, grabbing the ones from Will and Freya as well before he walked over to the others. Handing the bowl off to Guinevere and Morgana who were doing the actual cooking.

He stole a couple berries from the younger ones who were separating those from their stems as he passed by. Earning playful glares and eye rolls before he ruffled Daegal's hair and made his way back over to the other two.

Well at least he tried to make his way back over to them. The sudden dizzying and dooming feeling hit him as everything pulsated for a split second.

He staggered forward and grabbed onto the nearest tree for support. The all too familiar feel of Mordred's magic and the sound of a scared yell pounded in his head.

He took his hand to his head as Freya came to his side concerned, "Are you okay?"

"Merlin?" Will's voice followed. The lively ness of the camp slowly faded out to his ears, each voice dropped one by one and was replaced with concerned silence.

"Arthur and Mordred." Merlin quickly got out. Swallowing as his mouth had gone dry, and his heart sped up upon the realization what those two things usually meant when he heard them.

"They're still not back." Sefa provided to his evident worry.

He shook his head harshly,"I think Mordred's hurt." He pushed past everyone and collected his bag. "We need to find them."

Worried glances passed from person to person. Gilli and Morgana both stood up, the same as Kara rushed to his possible notion.

"What do you mean, hurt?" Kara demanded. Merlin, hardly given room to argue with the rather intimidating young girl, didn't immediately answer. All while Daegal, Eoghan, Sefa, Lamia Drea, and Gilli all waited in equal request for his answer.

He sighed, "I don't know, I felt his magic."

"He could've just used it for something?" Daegal half asked and stated.

Merlin shook his head. "This was different. I need to hurry."

"I'm coming." Gilli stepped forward.

"No," Merlin immediately shot down his request, "you're staying here."

"Merlin!"

"We don't need anyone else hurt."

"Gilli." Will quickly called the boy before he moved to argue with Merlin some more.

"Then I'm coming with." Morgana grabbed her sword from where it had been plunged into the ground.

Merlin sighed only because he knew he couldn't argue with Morgana, "Fine."

"Will-"

Will waved his hand, brushing him off, "Keep everyone safe, yeah I know."

All while his other hand was clasped on Gilli's shoulder, keeping the boy next to him and not from running off somewhere into danger. "Now go save your King and the kid."

Merlin nodded before looking to Morgana who was already off to find the two Merlin hopped hadn't gotten themselves into too much trouble.

~*~

Arthur sighed, "You know I'm never gonna hear the end of this from, Merlin." He said to the boy he was currently giving a piggyback ride to. Mordred was in too much pain and Arthur equally felt guilty and didn't want him to walk on the injured foot, so the next option, it was.

"Good."

"Not helping, Mordred." He adjusted his hands under Mordred's legs. He was light enough to carry for Arthur, even less with the absence of his chainmail and armour. Arthur almost was worried how thin the boy was as with chainmail he could easily lift Mordred as well.

"Merlin isn't his ego, he leads with his heart. All he wants is to keep you safe."

"He worries." Arthur felt the back of his neck get tickled by Mordred's hair as he laid his head down on him.

"Well, I'm very capable of keeping myself safe. Arthur heard and felt the forced huff of breath from Mordred on the back of his neck.

"With the occasional help."

Mordred scoffed, "He knows that. Just the same as you now know Merlin is more than capable of keeping himself safe."

Arthur grimaced. If only things had been different and Merlin had shown his magic earlier, he wouldn't have been hurt or beaten on. Magic was his weapon and the only weapon he had, but because of things. He couldn't use it to keep himself safe.

"Yet you still push him behind you, out of danger; You still search for him at any given moment during a battle; Your first action is to put yourself in front of him even though he's the one with immortality." Mordred continued.

"It's chivalry, code of a knight," Arthur stated. More so an excuse for his actions.

Mordred lightly shook his head, "It's called caring. But you're afraid to admit it. You think it makes people weak."

"Emotions," Arthur carefully stepped over a rocky path, "cloud judgement."

"No, they just mean you have a heart and a good sense of judgement. If emotions are such pitiful things, what right do they have to persecute judgement?"

Mordred's arms lightly tightened around Arthur's neck as his foot slipped off of a rock. A small whimper escaped his mouth from the strain on his shoulder.

"And is that the same reason why you're carrying me right now?"

Arthur stopped and sighed. The path was too rocky and slippery with mud from the days previous of fallen rain. Every jolt and slip of his step hurt Mordred, and that was the last thing he wanted.

"Let's take a break." He announced. He found a clear spot and set down Mordred before he sat down at his side facing him.

Arthur took a breath and started with his voice soft and low, "Mordred-"

"Forgive me," Mordred quickly apologized, "I'm out of line." He held Arthur's gaze as he said his words before quickly dropping it to his hands in his lap.

Arthur shook his head, "No, you're right… as always." It seemed more frequently Arthur began to realise he was more in the wrong than the people who were actually right all along.

"I do care about you, Mordred."

A soft smile appeared on Mordred's lips, "I know."

Arthur lightly shook his head, "More than you could know."

"And the thing with Merlin," he continued, "I-"

"Mordred! Arthur!"

Both of their heads shot up as Merlin's and Morgana's voices echoed through the space around them. Their names were called out in the faint distance, but close enough that they could hear.

Arthur ruffled Mordred's hair before he got up and called as loud as he could, "We're here!"

Soon enough both sorcerers were visible in the distance as they neared and picked up their pace. Both of them were filled with worry as they only saw Arthur at first before quickly seeing Mordred sitting on the ground behind him.

"Are you both okay?"

Merlin immediately pulled Mordred into his embrace, startling the boy. Morgana did the same thing as Merlin pulled away both of them acting in fear of what they thought of the worse and fretting over the boy.

"Oh, Everything's fine and dandy, Merlin." Arthur started, "Just my normal daily attempted assassination."

"I wish you were wrong." He mumbled under his breath.

Arthur's eyes widened before he shook his head, Mordred being hurt his priority right now rather than another assassination story that would surely end in Merlin saving his neck.

"Mordred, his ankle." He pointed before he dropped his head into his hand and took a deep breath.

"How did you hurt your ankle?" Morgana still was fretting over him while Merlin started to check the condition of his ankle.

"When we were running," Mordred answered.

"Running?" Morgana questioned.

Arthur sighed, "Long story…."

"You've been gone all but thirty minutes!" Merlin exclaimed.

"A lot happened in those thirty minutes, okay?"

Mordred stifled a chuckle at the three arguing. As if Merlin and Arthur weren't bad already but throwing Morgana in was like fanning the flame.

Merlin sighed, "it doesn't seem broken, so that's good."

"Can you stand?"

They saw the look that was exchanged between Arthur and Mordred. Mordred almost going to say yeah to brush off the injury again but Arthur quickly gave him a stern look of don't even try.

Merlin chuckled, "I'll take that as a no."

"I'm fine." Mordred tried to argue.

"No, you're not Mordred." Morgana agreed with Arthur's glare that said it all.

Arthur sighed, "Can't you just magically heal it?" He waved his hands aimlessly at the topic

"When we get back to the camp." Merlin said, "There may be more bandits coming."

Arthur caught his gaze. Merlin had seen the cave of discarded, knocked out men. He knew they had gotten themselves into trouble and could have possibly died.

Arthur quickly looked away from Merlin's glare. Something akin to guilt pounding on his chest of everything that had been done and said that very eventful day. He tried to ignore it as he made his way to pick Mordred back up so they could make their way back to the camp. "Come on, kid."

"Oh, you would carry Mordred so gently." Morgana teased as he got him settled and they began to walk.

"What are you on about?"

"When you had slung me over your shoulder when I had hurt my ankle." Morgana reminded him.

"That's because you're annoying."

"Oh, I'm the annoying one?"

"Yes, you are," Arthur confirmed. "Have been since you were five."

Morgana scoffed, "You didn't know me at five!"

"Exactly, I just know."

They both looked back at Mordred when a small airy laugh came from his way. The Druid ducked his head and laid it down on Arthur. The King, about to say something when he saw Morgana's amused and fond smile but ultimately decided not to.

"You don't have anything to say, Merlin?" Morgana asked the warlock who had been more silent than usual the whole time.

He shrugged his shoulders in his usual manner of having a lot to say but not saying it.

"Come on, spit it out."

"Don't worry Merlin, I'm not gonna die, I don't need a babysitter, Merlin. Stop over exaggerating Merlin." Merlin mocked. His tone growing harsher as he continued.

"Well, I didn't die."

He regretted his words immediately as Merlin stopped and turned around. A hurt look of disbelief stared right at Arthur, telling him he had messed up.

Merlin scoffed and shook his head, "Whatever, Arthur." He quickly walked ahead at a faster pace.

Arthur groaned as he received that all-knowing look from Morgana. The same look that he would get from across halls in heated arguments with his father or when he would become out of line with other nobles. He hated that look and Morgana knew it too.

She gave a gesture of her head towards the direction Merlin took off in before she sped up in pace too.

"I think you're in trouble." He heard Mordred's soft voice.

It was teasing all without being teasing as Mordred did indeed know Arthur was in trouble with Merlin. But he'd rather entertain the idea of letting Arthur come to that conclusion himself. Being around both men enough to know when they were ready to cut each other's heads off or explode on one another.

He understood the situations and how to make them better. Arthur and Merlin unfortunately both knew this. Groaning when Mordred just shrugged his shoulders at their demands. Instead, he taunted them with his vague words and guiding questions.

Arthur sighed, "I think I am too, Mordred."

~*~

Fretting from everybody was hard to avoid, especially as Arthur tried to reassure Gwen everything was fine. Then the worrying expressions that were on Mordred as the Druid tried to bring relief to those as well.

Though earlier conversations still played on Arthur's mind, especially after what happened on the trip back to camp.

He took his courage to approach Merlin from where the man was sitting and staring at the campfire. Both of them had not even shared a gaze or a single word since they made it back.

"Hey." Merlin's attention shot to him as he sat down beside him.

"Is he okay?" He gestured over to where Mordred was sitting and laughing with Kara, Sefa and all of them

"Yeah," Merlin quickly dismissed it, "something a little magic can't fix."

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, though Merlin's gaze was on the fire and anywhere but him. Arthur swallowed as he looked around before getting the courage to speak.

"Merlin I-"

"Don't." Merlin cut him off. His voice was short, not wanting to hear anything Arthur had to say.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

Merlin shook his head, "I'm not upset."

"Then what's wrong?" Arthur exclaimed. "I'm still trying to get used to this magic thing."

Merlin scoffed, "That's the understatement of the decade."

"Merlin," Arthur's tone begged at his words, "this is all new to me." Merlin's eyes flickered to him before back to fire as he tossed another stick in.

"Even back there," he continued, "Mordred he-"

"Can kill hundreds of people with as little as a blink of an eye?" Merlin questioned, with faux innocence and mirth in his voice.

"Not one of those men was dead, Arthur."

Having stumbled upon that place first, he put two and two together. The use of Mordred's magic he felt, combined with the many unconscious bandits all added up.

"Unconscious and injured maybe but not dead."

"I know-"

"But do you, Arthur!?" Merlin snapped. He grimaced as he turned and saw some of the others who looked their way.

Arthur didn't reply, only waited as Merlin took a deep breath before he carried on.

"Is everything you see bad or wrong when you look at any one of us? When you look at Mordred?" He gestures over to the boy who was laughing at something said. While Merlin was all but begging to know all of what Arthur thought and felt.

"And today," he continued, "what you saw today was just a small scratch on the surface of his magic."

"Are we just people," he scoffed, "not even people, things you should fear?" Merlin looked on the verge of tears. He was hurt and frustrated at the moment he had waited to come for so long, only to be so disappointed by its outcome.

"Tell me that at least Arthur, do you fear us?"

Arthur shook his head, "Merlin, please-"

"And you know why he used his magic, Arthur?" Merlin interrupted. "To protect you."

Arthur almost tried not to believe it but he knew it was the truth. Mordred no doubt, having even put his own life on the line for Arthur's would do something as just use what he was born with.

"We may kill and hurt with our magic, but it's no different than your sword."

Merlin took in a deep breath, trying to catch it back from anger while Arthur took every word said to him. He fought between leaving the man beside him and staying, a choice that would decide so much to come.

But he stayed. Allowing both of them to wallow in silence with their thoughts and feelings of everything but in the company of each other. For their external quarrel might have been with each other, but the buried truth was now lying on the surface, waiting to be snatched away.

"Merlin," he started after enough time had passed that he regained his voice, "I'm trying." He pleaded, though known not much of a kingly action as to plead to a servant. But Merlin wasn't a servant, he was magic and more importantly his friend.

"I know," came the weak reply. "I am too."

Arthur sighed, "I'm sorry, Merlin."

Merlin's head whipped towards him, shock written over every inch of his face. His eyes dancing back and forth frantic across Arthur's own expression trying to find a hint of something—anything that wasn't the remorse the King held.

"I'm truly sorry." He continued.

"I have to accept your apology then," Merlin said, a hint of his own sarcasm and jesting returning to his words.

Arthur lightly scoffed, "You don't have to." He shook his head.

"You're allowed to be frustrated, angry, annoyed even with me."

Merlin pushed out a breath. "Glad that's settled then."

At the realization of what Merlin meant by his words Arthur chuckled, "suppose I deserve that."

Merlin managed a small smile. Annoyed was one word he could use to describe how he felt towards Arthur sometimes.

Arthur smiled at seeing a grin on Merlin's face for the first time that day. Even if anger or frustration had to come first and had been aimed towards him. Now, keeping his normal smile upon its place was all that mattered.

"You're my friend, Merlin," Arthur stated. "Last thing I want is to hurt you."

Merlin seemed at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed before he finally just nodded his head. He looked down

Arthur nudged him."Not gonna start crying on me are you?" He teased.

Merlin gave an airy laugh, "No."

Though in the short time that followed, a sniffle was heard. Followed by another and Merlin wiping his nose.

"Something in the air." Merlin tried to excuse his sniffling and glossed over eyes. Something Arthur wasn't buying one bit but let it slip.

"Of course," He replied. Pretending not to hear the sniffling and Merlin clear his throat after.

Though Merlin said nothing as Arthur reached over and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Neither did Arthur, hardly acknowledging the action himself. Only looking back towards Merlin when he slightly ducked his head.

In turn, Arthur caught the smile Mordred was looking over at them both with. Merlin, too busy pretending to not be crying to notice. But Arthur returned the smile and nodded his head. Telling Mordred that everything was okay once again, even if another argument was had and another set of apologies was to be said in the future. At that moment everything was once again okay.

"Well come on." Arthur pulled back his hand and leaned back against the tree behind them.

"Tell me about it."

"It?" Merlin questioned.

"Magic. You apparently."

Merlin scoffed, "Not much greatness as everyone makes it out to be."

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "I've heard differently."

"You already know me," Merlin said as if there wasn't so much Arthur still didn't know about him. As the part that made Merlin him, was kept from him out of understandable fear for many years.

"I do know my bumbling, clumsy, buffoon of a manservant." He playfully pushed Merlin lightly to let him know he was joking around.

"But," he continued, "I also know a kind, caring, wise, and brave man."

"Who also happens to be magic himself," Arthur said all in one breath making Merlin laugh.

"So?" Arthur questioned.

Merlin hesitated. Grabbing his bottom lip between his teeth before it slipped as his facade broke out into a smile. Arthur, of all people, was asking about his magic; and not just his magic but him.

"Well…" Merlin started. Beaming as he got into the stories he started to tell Arthur from small little mishaps to things unimaginable.

While Arthur listened all while not listening. Too busy seeing the excitement that Merlin held for such topics even if he didn't understand one shred of it. But he entertained the topics when Merlin looked over at him with a wide smile and a hidden request for confirmation.

Until it isn’t. His headlights illuminate a tree that has fallen across the road in the storm and he hits the brakes but his car starts to skid and he tries to turn the wheel, maybe go around the tree instead, but one wheel hits the edge of the road and he loses all control of the car. 

It goes sliding, tumbling down the steep hill at the side of the road, and everything is jumbled and messy and disorienting and loud. Kurt can’t really process what’s happening in the moment, everything is moving so fast and just a second ago he’d been fine, and now - 

Now the car has stopped moving, settled back on its wheels with a terrible screech of metal. For several seconds Kurt just sits there as his brain catches up to what’s happened. His head is spinning from the fall and he’s pretty sure also because he’s hit it, because there’s something wet and sticky on his forehead that wasn’t there before. The airbags have gone off and one has hit him in the chest and there’s glass from a broken window scattered all over and the rain is pouring in and his whole body hurts, like he’s been thrown into a washing machine on its highest setting. 

The most important thing, he decides, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears and the shaking of his hands and the all-encompassing pain, is to get out of here. He tries the door and finds it won’t budge. The passenger door tells a similar story and he can’t twist his body enough to get into the backseat and try the doors there. 

But his window is broken. He can get out that way. He has to free himself from his seatbelt first, though, which has pressed itself hard into his skin. It hurts to move it away, and it leaves a visible imprint on the fabric of his shirt, which has certainly transferred to his skin as well.

Getting out through the window is torture. He realizes quickly that he’s going to need to go head-first, because there is little hope of being able to bend his legs enough to get them out first. Pieces of Plexiglass dig into his palms as he carefully pushes his torso out the window. He carefully wriggles himself forward, and suddenly slips against the wet metal, hands reaching out to grab hold of nothingness as he falls.

He hits the ground, and it’s a short fall but it hurts, knocks the wind out of him so he can’t scream in pain. He whimpers instead, a sound he’d never consciously let himself make in the presence of another human being, and spends several seconds just lying on the muddy, cold ground, willing himself to stand up. 

Eventually, he manages to get to his feet, just as a clap of thunder rolls across the sky. The noise startles him into action, and before he can really even think about it he’s moving.

He stumbles back up the muddy slope, and it hurts hurts hurts but he needs to get up higher. An irrational part of him insists that he needs to get away from the source of his pain, while a more logical voice says that he needs to get closer to the road, so that when help comes they won’t have to look very far to find him. 

On the way up, he slips twice, stumbles once, and by the time he finally reaches the top of the hill he’s absolutely covered in mud and he’s drenched and shivering and almost certainly still bleeding and his ears haven’t stopped ringing and his head is still spinning and there isn’t a single part of his body that doesn’t hurt. It’s overwhelming but he pushes past it because he’s set himself the goal of the top of the hill.

Of course, as soon as that goal is met and he’s back on flat ground, it’s like all of the energy in his body evaporates at once. He can’t walk anymore, can’t even stand. He sinks to his knees beside the deserted road, exhales slowly (which hurts, god, what doesn’t?), then lets out a sort of choked half-sob as reality truly begins to set in. He is alone and hurting and freezing and fuck, if he doesn’t just want someone to be here, to distract him from the pain, to warm him up, to tell him that it’s okay. But it’s just him and his shaking fingers extracting his broken but mercifully still functional phone from his pocket, just him dialling 112 and hoping fervently for there to be service out here.

The operator answers, thankfully, and takes his stuttered information, telling him help will arrive in approximately fifteen minutes. Kurt carefully draws his aching knees to his chest, wraps his arms around himself, and settles in to wait.

He was lashing out. 

There was a call the other night. They had this hotline number that linked directly to them, so anyone could call in an emergency. Most of the time they could defer it to the police, but if they weren’t busy, they’d pick it up and take care of it themselves.

Well this night, the police were busy. He had just caught a car theft, when the police realized it was a group, so they were in an active chase. The call paged in, he saw the location, and rushed over.

As he approached the location, he saw one girl immediately rush over to him, panic in her voice and tears down her face. She was wearing a short dress, a leather jacket, and had a small handbag on her shoulder.

“My- my friend!” She was shouting as she dragged him along. “They followed us- but I- help, please!”

He turned the corner of the building and saw another girl, huddled in the corner. About four or five guys were gathered in the area. One was climbing on top of her as the others stood about.

“No. Not happening.” Ted stated. He marched through the group of boys to the corner and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. With a strong arm he threw him against the wall.

The girl rushed to her friend, she was shaken up and a little bruised, but nothing had gotten too far.

The boy that was thrown slumped to the ground, but quickly scrambled to his feet as Ted began to approach him again.

“What do you think you were trying to do?!” He shouted. He grabbed him by the collar, pinning him against the wall.

One of the boys behind him piped up. 

“Hey, come on. They were asking for it.”

Teddy threw the boy back to the ground and turned to face the other four.

“Asking for it? I guess you guys were just asking for a beating then, weren’t you?”

 - - -

Teddy ran his fist under some cool water in his bathroom.

He had lost control. 

That hadn’t happened in years, since one of his first fights underground- but as soon as she came around, he was able to control his anger a lot more. He didn’t lash out as much, or lose control in a fight. And besides, she did most of the hand-to-hand combat anyways.

The blood washed down the sink as he grabbed a roll of bandages for his knuckles.

The guys would be fine. 

Did they deserve it? Yeah.

But should he have beaten them all as hard as he did?

Probably not.

She would have calmed him down. Gotten the girls to safety, kept the boys secure until someone arrived, or at least gotten info so the girls could’ve pressed charges. Not beaten them all black and blue and fled the scene after calling an ambulance. 

What was the press going to say?

News of her disappearance had already spread around the city, and chaos was rising fast. Everywhere he turned, or went to help someone would pester him with questions, but he was as clueless as they were.

 He couldn’t keep doing this on his own. How long until he severely hurt someone? Or hurt himself?