Amped - Part 28
Nov. 28th, 2011 11:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwyllionTitle: Amped
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 57,554
A/N: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2011. For additional notes, warnings, etc, please refer to Part 1 here.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Merlin swayed backwards on the catwalk. For an instant, he thought he was going to lose his balance and plunge into the audience below. He reached behind him with one hand, feeling in the dark for the cold steel of the railing. He gripped it tight.
“Mordred,” Merlin said, wishing he never had reason to give voice to the name again.
Below them, the audience waited for The Knights to begin the show. The chanting mixed with the smoke, and filtered up to the rafters of the auditorium.
“You have no business being up here,” Merlin shouted, trying to sound commanding, but certain that he was failing miserably.
Mordred took a step toward him. Their combined weight on the fragile catwalk made it quiver in mid-air.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, “In a land of myth and a time of magic...”
A flash of light illuminated the theatre. The show had officially begun.
Another flash fired.
And another.
Merlin could see Mordred, as plain as if he were standing in the brilliant sunshine. In his hands, Mordred held a set of automobile jump leads and a pair of needle-nose pliers.
“What are you doing with those?” Merlin pleaded.
“I told you before, Emrys,” Mordred said, his voice so cold it sent a shiver through Merlin, although the heat of five-thousand concertgoers had warmed the lofty heights of the Avalon, where he and Mordred stood precariously on the brink above the crowd. “I’ll beat you every time.”
The Knights had begun to play. The audience roared in approval, shaking the Avalon all the way to the rafters. It was only then that Merlin noticed the wires dangling behind Mordred’s head. His eyes scanned the lengths of wire that had been run through the conduit, across the rafters, and down to the stage where The Knights had launched into the instrumental portion of their opening song.
“What are you doing?” Merlin yelled. He thought about trying to force Mordred off the catwalk, but he feared he’d fall over the edge himself.
Mordred grinned at him, his blue eyes narrowed in fury.
“Let’s see how your boyfriend likes being the centre of attention now,” Mordred said.
Merlin watched in horror as Mordred connected one end of the jump leads to the exposed wires.
He was planning to electrocute Arthur.
Merlin had to do something to stop him. He flew across the narrow walkway, hoping to catch Mordred off guard. He shoved him backwards, not caring what the consequences were. He wouldn’t let Mordred do anything to hurt Arthur, or himself, again.
With the force of Merlin’s impact, Mordred lost his balance temporarily and went down on one knee.
Merlin tried to grab the leads out of his hands, but Mordred was too fast. Merlin fell forward onto the walkway, the cool metal searing cold on his belly where his shirt had ridden up. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to stop Mordred from inflicting damage upon Arthur.
He crawled toward Mordred, still trying to get the jump leads away from him. Mordred held onto the metal railing and kicked at Merlin’s hands when he got closer.
Merlin didn’t care if he got hurt, he just needed to save Arthur. He lunged at Mordred, and grappled with him against the metal railings.
Then, in one horrible moment, before Merlin could tell what was happening, Mordred shoved him hard.
Merlin slid over the edge of the catwalk. He fell through the air, arms and legs flailing. He slowed only when his oversized black T-shirt caught on a sharp edge of the metalwork. He heard the fabric rip and thought it would be the last sound he ever heard. In the frames of his life that passed before his eyes, he thought he had enjoyed himself pretty damn well with Arthur during the past few days. He was ever so grateful that his final thoughts were happy ones.
He prepared for impact on the auditorium seats, some fifty feet below. He hoped his fall wouldn’t hurt anyone.
He was unprepared for the abrupt stop when his hand, in its flailingness, caught hold of a piece of metal scaffolding.
He paused to catch his breath.
He was... alive.
***
Merlin carefully reached for a vertical piece of hanging metal with his free hand and made good with his hold. For once, he was thankful that he was a skinny fuck, because his arms wouldn’t be strong enough to hold much more weight.
Merlin looked toward the stage, where Arthur was about to take the microphone.
“No!” he screamed in frustration at the top of his lungs, his feet kicking in mid-air above the crowd of horrified onlookers. Some of the fans must have heard him as he dangled there, shirtless and fearing the worst.
On stage, Gwaine shaded his eyes from the spotlight.
Someone in the audience shrieked.
Merlin hung on for dear life, hoping that Gwaine could see what was happening high above the crowd, and praying that he’d take action.
He could swear he saw Gwaine’s lips form his name... Merlin... a look of utter shock on Gwaine’s face.
Gwaine dove for the microphone.
Merlin blinked once.
When he opened his eyes, the lights were out.
The theatre was silent for a split second. Then, chaos ensued beneath him. The audience exploded with moans of disappointment and screams of outright panic.
Count to ten, Merlin, he told himself. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand….
His arms burned with the stretch to his muscles.
Eight-one thousand, nine-one thousand.
The thunk of the emergency generators switched the power on.
A roar of applause went through the crowd, followed by more staccato shrieks when people realized Merlin was hanging, ready to fall onto them when one more drop of nervous sweat formed on his palms.
On stage, Arthur and Elyan knelt over Gwaine, who lay in a crumpled heap on the stage.
Someone began to administer CPR.
Merlin bit his lower lip. His arms were numb, and somewhere above him, Mordred still loomed dangerously. If he tried to kill Arthur, who knows what he’d try to do to Merlin?
Merlin tried to swing a leg onto the scaffolding. His long limbs were both a curse and a blessing. He could get a lot of momentum, but he feared he wasn’t limber enough to catch the metal rail between his ankles. The ache in his arse wasn’t helping matters. That’ll teach me for bottoming from the top, he thought.
Meanwhile, he could hear Mordred working on the wires above him. He probably had some other plan up his sleeve to destroy Arthur, which was really pissing Merlin off.
Just the thought of it was enough to give Merlin that extra push he needed to hook a foot around the scaffolding.
He hung there for a moment, catching his breath. It was a long drop down and Merlin tried to not think about the way Gwaine was lying there unconscious on stage. The huge doors at the back of the stage had been opened. Merlin realized that the night air had turned cooler. The heat seemed to rush out of the auditorium through the doors. Merlin thought he heard an ambulance in the distance.
That was a long enough rest, he decided. Merlin pulled from his inner reserves of strength to hoist himself onto the catwalk.
Mordred was waiting.
In each hand, he held a handle to the jump leads. Their opposite ends were attached to the wiring he had pulled from the ceiling.
As soon as Merlin’s exhausted body landed face-down on the metal walkway, Mordred was on him.
It was now or never for Merlin. He wrestled one of the leads free from Mordred’s hand. He reached beneath the catwalk and clipped it to the first piece of metal it hit. A shower of sparks fell onto the onlookers below.
Mordred was incensed. He pummelled Merlin with his fists atop the narrow walkway. Merlin ducked his head to avoid the blows. He crawled forward to try to get to his feet, but Mordred’s attack made it impossible. Instead, he saw another opportunity. Mordred had abandoned his other jump lead. It was within Merlin’s reach.
He slid his hand along the walkway and gripped the jump lead’s handle. Mordred was so relentless with his fists that Merlin doubted he even realised the lead was unaccounted for.
Merlin pinched the handle, opening the lead’s alligator clamp, and before another fists could connect with him, he shoved the lead at Mordred’s fist and let go of the handle.
Merlin heard Mordred scream as the electrical current ran through him, a dragon of amperes claiming his soul.
***
It was Uther who came to Merlin’s rescue, leaping onto the catwalk with his gun drawn. Merlin didn’t dare move from his perch, lest he fall off the walkway again.
Mordred’s convulsing corpse had long shorted out the wiring that was destined to kill Arthur. Still, Uther regarded it cautiously.
He edged his way closer to Merlin, holstering his weapon, since it was no longer necessary.
“Come on, son,” Uther said. “Let’s get you down from here.”
Merlin was shaky on his feet. He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry because he killed a man or hug Uther for attending Arthur’s performance or run to the stage to make sure Gwaine was alive. In only ten minutes, so much had changed. The first thing he needed to do was to find Arthur, to hold him, to tell him he’d never let him go.
The hum of the crowd became a dull roar in Merlin’s ears and he was struck by the fact that he didn’t think anyone had yet left the theatre in search of some other excitement on a Friday night.
“That’s it,” said Uther as he helped Merlin negotiate the narrow metal path, a protective arm around Merlin’s bare shoulders.
They reached the top of the spiral staircase and Merlin hesitated. Uther stripped off his police-issue jacket and wrapped it around Merlin. He pressed his hands against Merlin’s back, insisting that Merlin descend first. Merlin knew it would be better that way too, so his last memory of Mordred would be of Uther commanding the scene, not one of himself as a lonely boy who took the life that nearly took his own.
Merlin chanced one last look at Mordred, feeling nothing, before he descended the stairs.
Before even one of Merlin’s trainers hit the control room floor, Uther was behind him.
The room was exactly as Merlin left it when he thought to check the catwalk, except Uther had left the door open. Merlin kicked the rickety wooden stool until it slid under the control board. He was suddenly overcome with the sadness that The Knights’ Round Table Tour had ended before it began, because there was no hope of recovering from this disaster.
Just then, Arthur flew through the control room door.
“Merlin,” he sighed, embracing him with all his might. “Thank God you’re alive.”
Merlin hugged Arthur fiercely, well… as fiercely as he could with Uther standing right next to them.
“I’m okay,” Merlin said. “And you, you’re fine. What about Gwaine?”
“Did you see him? The paramedics are taking him to the hospital. He got quite a shock, but they think he’ll be okay. He’s got burns to his hand where he touched the microphone- Father, you need to investigate Cenred, and probably Morgause too.”
“The warehouse,” Merlin said. “Gwaine couldn’t imagine what Cenred was doing when he broke into the warehouse.”
“When did he break into the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Uther.
“He didn’t break in,” said Arthur. “The lock wasn’t broken. He may have had inside help. You might start by investigating The Knights’ new back-up singer. And while you’re at it, you might question Morgana, as well.”
“Morgana?” Uther asked.
“Well, you know she has a mean streak where I’m concerned, and she was involved in getting Nimueh the job,” Arthur said.
“Very well,” said Uther. “Let’s see if I can’t sort this mess out.”
Arthur stopped him as he made to leave.
“Father, what’s going to happen to all these people? None of them appear to be leaving, and no one has told security to ask them to leave.”
“Give me an hour, and let me see what I can do,” said Uther.
He left the booth, closing the door behind him.
“God,” Arthur said, framing Merlin’s face in his hands. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Never,” said Merlin.
He pressed his lips to Arthur’s and sank into his arms, never feeling safer.
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Modern au
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 57,554
A/N: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2011. For additional notes, warnings, etc, please refer to Part 1 here.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Merlin swayed backwards on the catwalk. For an instant, he thought he was going to lose his balance and plunge into the audience below. He reached behind him with one hand, feeling in the dark for the cold steel of the railing. He gripped it tight.
“Mordred,” Merlin said, wishing he never had reason to give voice to the name again.
Below them, the audience waited for The Knights to begin the show. The chanting mixed with the smoke, and filtered up to the rafters of the auditorium.
“You have no business being up here,” Merlin shouted, trying to sound commanding, but certain that he was failing miserably.
Mordred took a step toward him. Their combined weight on the fragile catwalk made it quiver in mid-air.
The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, “In a land of myth and a time of magic...”
A flash of light illuminated the theatre. The show had officially begun.
Another flash fired.
And another.
Merlin could see Mordred, as plain as if he were standing in the brilliant sunshine. In his hands, Mordred held a set of automobile jump leads and a pair of needle-nose pliers.
“What are you doing with those?” Merlin pleaded.
“I told you before, Emrys,” Mordred said, his voice so cold it sent a shiver through Merlin, although the heat of five-thousand concertgoers had warmed the lofty heights of the Avalon, where he and Mordred stood precariously on the brink above the crowd. “I’ll beat you every time.”
The Knights had begun to play. The audience roared in approval, shaking the Avalon all the way to the rafters. It was only then that Merlin noticed the wires dangling behind Mordred’s head. His eyes scanned the lengths of wire that had been run through the conduit, across the rafters, and down to the stage where The Knights had launched into the instrumental portion of their opening song.
“What are you doing?” Merlin yelled. He thought about trying to force Mordred off the catwalk, but he feared he’d fall over the edge himself.
Mordred grinned at him, his blue eyes narrowed in fury.
“Let’s see how your boyfriend likes being the centre of attention now,” Mordred said.
Merlin watched in horror as Mordred connected one end of the jump leads to the exposed wires.
He was planning to electrocute Arthur.
Merlin had to do something to stop him. He flew across the narrow walkway, hoping to catch Mordred off guard. He shoved him backwards, not caring what the consequences were. He wouldn’t let Mordred do anything to hurt Arthur, or himself, again.
With the force of Merlin’s impact, Mordred lost his balance temporarily and went down on one knee.
Merlin tried to grab the leads out of his hands, but Mordred was too fast. Merlin fell forward onto the walkway, the cool metal searing cold on his belly where his shirt had ridden up. His mind raced, trying to think of a way to stop Mordred from inflicting damage upon Arthur.
He crawled toward Mordred, still trying to get the jump leads away from him. Mordred held onto the metal railing and kicked at Merlin’s hands when he got closer.
Merlin didn’t care if he got hurt, he just needed to save Arthur. He lunged at Mordred, and grappled with him against the metal railings.
Then, in one horrible moment, before Merlin could tell what was happening, Mordred shoved him hard.
Merlin slid over the edge of the catwalk. He fell through the air, arms and legs flailing. He slowed only when his oversized black T-shirt caught on a sharp edge of the metalwork. He heard the fabric rip and thought it would be the last sound he ever heard. In the frames of his life that passed before his eyes, he thought he had enjoyed himself pretty damn well with Arthur during the past few days. He was ever so grateful that his final thoughts were happy ones.
He prepared for impact on the auditorium seats, some fifty feet below. He hoped his fall wouldn’t hurt anyone.
He was unprepared for the abrupt stop when his hand, in its flailingness, caught hold of a piece of metal scaffolding.
He paused to catch his breath.
He was... alive.
***
Merlin carefully reached for a vertical piece of hanging metal with his free hand and made good with his hold. For once, he was thankful that he was a skinny fuck, because his arms wouldn’t be strong enough to hold much more weight.
Merlin looked toward the stage, where Arthur was about to take the microphone.
“No!” he screamed in frustration at the top of his lungs, his feet kicking in mid-air above the crowd of horrified onlookers. Some of the fans must have heard him as he dangled there, shirtless and fearing the worst.
On stage, Gwaine shaded his eyes from the spotlight.
Someone in the audience shrieked.
Merlin hung on for dear life, hoping that Gwaine could see what was happening high above the crowd, and praying that he’d take action.
He could swear he saw Gwaine’s lips form his name... Merlin... a look of utter shock on Gwaine’s face.
Gwaine dove for the microphone.
Merlin blinked once.
When he opened his eyes, the lights were out.
The theatre was silent for a split second. Then, chaos ensued beneath him. The audience exploded with moans of disappointment and screams of outright panic.
Count to ten, Merlin, he told himself. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand….
His arms burned with the stretch to his muscles.
Eight-one thousand, nine-one thousand.
The thunk of the emergency generators switched the power on.
A roar of applause went through the crowd, followed by more staccato shrieks when people realized Merlin was hanging, ready to fall onto them when one more drop of nervous sweat formed on his palms.
On stage, Arthur and Elyan knelt over Gwaine, who lay in a crumpled heap on the stage.
Someone began to administer CPR.
Merlin bit his lower lip. His arms were numb, and somewhere above him, Mordred still loomed dangerously. If he tried to kill Arthur, who knows what he’d try to do to Merlin?
Merlin tried to swing a leg onto the scaffolding. His long limbs were both a curse and a blessing. He could get a lot of momentum, but he feared he wasn’t limber enough to catch the metal rail between his ankles. The ache in his arse wasn’t helping matters. That’ll teach me for bottoming from the top, he thought.
Meanwhile, he could hear Mordred working on the wires above him. He probably had some other plan up his sleeve to destroy Arthur, which was really pissing Merlin off.
Just the thought of it was enough to give Merlin that extra push he needed to hook a foot around the scaffolding.
He hung there for a moment, catching his breath. It was a long drop down and Merlin tried to not think about the way Gwaine was lying there unconscious on stage. The huge doors at the back of the stage had been opened. Merlin realized that the night air had turned cooler. The heat seemed to rush out of the auditorium through the doors. Merlin thought he heard an ambulance in the distance.
That was a long enough rest, he decided. Merlin pulled from his inner reserves of strength to hoist himself onto the catwalk.
Mordred was waiting.
In each hand, he held a handle to the jump leads. Their opposite ends were attached to the wiring he had pulled from the ceiling.
As soon as Merlin’s exhausted body landed face-down on the metal walkway, Mordred was on him.
It was now or never for Merlin. He wrestled one of the leads free from Mordred’s hand. He reached beneath the catwalk and clipped it to the first piece of metal it hit. A shower of sparks fell onto the onlookers below.
Mordred was incensed. He pummelled Merlin with his fists atop the narrow walkway. Merlin ducked his head to avoid the blows. He crawled forward to try to get to his feet, but Mordred’s attack made it impossible. Instead, he saw another opportunity. Mordred had abandoned his other jump lead. It was within Merlin’s reach.
He slid his hand along the walkway and gripped the jump lead’s handle. Mordred was so relentless with his fists that Merlin doubted he even realised the lead was unaccounted for.
Merlin pinched the handle, opening the lead’s alligator clamp, and before another fists could connect with him, he shoved the lead at Mordred’s fist and let go of the handle.
Merlin heard Mordred scream as the electrical current ran through him, a dragon of amperes claiming his soul.
***
It was Uther who came to Merlin’s rescue, leaping onto the catwalk with his gun drawn. Merlin didn’t dare move from his perch, lest he fall off the walkway again.
Mordred’s convulsing corpse had long shorted out the wiring that was destined to kill Arthur. Still, Uther regarded it cautiously.
He edged his way closer to Merlin, holstering his weapon, since it was no longer necessary.
“Come on, son,” Uther said. “Let’s get you down from here.”
Merlin was shaky on his feet. He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry because he killed a man or hug Uther for attending Arthur’s performance or run to the stage to make sure Gwaine was alive. In only ten minutes, so much had changed. The first thing he needed to do was to find Arthur, to hold him, to tell him he’d never let him go.
The hum of the crowd became a dull roar in Merlin’s ears and he was struck by the fact that he didn’t think anyone had yet left the theatre in search of some other excitement on a Friday night.
“That’s it,” said Uther as he helped Merlin negotiate the narrow metal path, a protective arm around Merlin’s bare shoulders.
They reached the top of the spiral staircase and Merlin hesitated. Uther stripped off his police-issue jacket and wrapped it around Merlin. He pressed his hands against Merlin’s back, insisting that Merlin descend first. Merlin knew it would be better that way too, so his last memory of Mordred would be of Uther commanding the scene, not one of himself as a lonely boy who took the life that nearly took his own.
Merlin chanced one last look at Mordred, feeling nothing, before he descended the stairs.
Before even one of Merlin’s trainers hit the control room floor, Uther was behind him.
The room was exactly as Merlin left it when he thought to check the catwalk, except Uther had left the door open. Merlin kicked the rickety wooden stool until it slid under the control board. He was suddenly overcome with the sadness that The Knights’ Round Table Tour had ended before it began, because there was no hope of recovering from this disaster.
Just then, Arthur flew through the control room door.
“Merlin,” he sighed, embracing him with all his might. “Thank God you’re alive.”
Merlin hugged Arthur fiercely, well… as fiercely as he could with Uther standing right next to them.
“I’m okay,” Merlin said. “And you, you’re fine. What about Gwaine?”
“Did you see him? The paramedics are taking him to the hospital. He got quite a shock, but they think he’ll be okay. He’s got burns to his hand where he touched the microphone- Father, you need to investigate Cenred, and probably Morgause too.”
“The warehouse,” Merlin said. “Gwaine couldn’t imagine what Cenred was doing when he broke into the warehouse.”
“When did he break into the warehouse? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Uther.
“He didn’t break in,” said Arthur. “The lock wasn’t broken. He may have had inside help. You might start by investigating The Knights’ new back-up singer. And while you’re at it, you might question Morgana, as well.”
“Morgana?” Uther asked.
“Well, you know she has a mean streak where I’m concerned, and she was involved in getting Nimueh the job,” Arthur said.
“Very well,” said Uther. “Let’s see if I can’t sort this mess out.”
Arthur stopped him as he made to leave.
“Father, what’s going to happen to all these people? None of them appear to be leaving, and no one has told security to ask them to leave.”
“Give me an hour, and let me see what I can do,” said Uther.
He left the booth, closing the door behind him.
“God,” Arthur said, framing Merlin’s face in his hands. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Never,” said Merlin.
He pressed his lips to Arthur’s and sank into his arms, never feeling safer.
