Title: Desperately Seeking Lancelot
Film Prompt: Desperately Seeking Susan
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin (Gwen/Lance, Leon/Morgana, Arthur/Sophia)
Rating: NC17/Adult
Word Count: 31,600
Spoilers: None
Warnings (Highlight to view): Some recreational drug use.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.
Author's Notes: I'm no fan of Madonna's acting, but I've always adored this film. Absolutely nothing to do with Aiden Quinn's big blue eyes, no siree! *cough*
Written for reel_merlin 2011.
Thanks to singlemomsummer for the beta; I've tweaked this since so any typos are all my own doing.

This will be posted in three parts over three days. I hope you enjoy.

-0-

"Hey, Arthur, do you fancy a drink after work tonight?" Leon stuck his head into Arthur Pendragon's office with a hopeful raised eyebrow and his trademark grin.

It was only just lunchtime and already Arthur would like nothing better than a pint or three right now, never mind after work. He shook his head with a small frown. "Sorry, mate, Sophia's having a party tonight to celebrate the launch of her new salon and as the husband I'm sort of obliged to attend." He would rather watch paint dry, but even though Leon was his best mate, he wasn't aware just how miserable Arthur's married life was. "Why don't you come along? You can save me from talk of hair extensions and nail extensions and foils– whatever they are."

"You paint such a tempting picture," Leon rolled his eyes, his grin still in place. "I'm gonna say 'why not?' It's not like I'm inundated with any better offers at this moment in time."

"Thanks, mate," Arthur said gratefully, suddenly dreading the evening ahead just a little less. "Come over about eight, half eight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Leon replied with a wink, and ducked back out of the door.

Arthur sighed and turned back to the seventy-three unread emails that were demanding his attention.

Twelve of them were from Morgana.

-0-

Lancelot DuLac really didn't care that only twelve people came to hear his talk at the Glastonbury Assembly Rooms, or that the room they had given him was damp, in the basement of the building and had no natural light. Twelve people paying £5 each to listen to his lecture, at least a couple of whom would buy the book, plus, he had another talk scheduled later that afternoon which meant he would finish the day at least £100 better off than he had started it. Not that money meant much to him, not really; all it meant was a means to an end. He could afford to pay for a campsite tonight and would be able to take a legitimate shower rather than pulling his usual stunt of using hotel gym facilities when he wasn't a member. It was amazing how no one batted an eye at him when he donned his 'gym disguise'.

"Mr DuLac, could you sign this for me?" A pretty blond lingered in the doorway of the basement room having clearly waited for the others to leave. She proffered a copy of his book, 'Following the Line', which she must have purchased from the stand upstairs in the main hall. "I think this subject is simply fascinating," she said, batting her eyelashes and twirling a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger.

Lance worried she had something in her eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned, taking the book off her and flicking to the inside cover. She smiled and nodded, releasing her hair in favour of nibbling delicately on her index finger and batting her lashes further. Lance frowned and said, "Whom shall I make this out to?"

"Can you write, To Vivian, All my love, please? And – can you write your phone number on there too?"

"I don't have a phone," Lance replied, thinking it odd that she would want it in the first place; if she had a query about anything in the book then there was a website and email address on the first page. He signed the book with a flourish and handed it back to her. "If you want to learn more about Ley Lines then I'm holding a two day course in London in a couple of weeks." He raised an expectant eyebrow at Vivian, pleased that he might have found another delegate for the seminar as so far it was only half full.

"Well, London is a bit far for me to travel," she replied, reaching into her shoulder bag and coming out with a card. "My contact details are on here if you ever run one around here – or if you need some company next time you're in the area."

Lance took the card. "I'll bear that in mind, thank you," he said pleasantly and tucked the card into his wallet. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for the next talk."

Vivian walked slowly towards the door, pausing on the threshold to say, "Goodbye, Lancelot."

Lance was already shuffling his notes in preparation for the next talk and wondering where to go to grab some lunch because his stomach was starting to rumble. "Um – bye," he said, looking around for his jacket in case it was still drizzly outside. He heard Vivian huff and then her footsteps on the stairs, but she was already forgotten. He shrugged into his leather jacket and locking the old wooden door behind him he took the stairs two by two and burst out into the middle of the Glastonbury Mystic & Earth Spirit Fayre. He made a beeline for the exit, his mind filled with thoughts of food. He stopped at the newsagents to grab a newspaper and went over the road to Cafe Galatea where he ordered a vegan flan and soya milkshake.

Once he'd placed his order, he flipped straight to the personals page and almost scared the old couple at the table next to his to death when he punched the air and shouted, "Gwen – finally!" He swiftly followed his spontaneous cry of joy with, "Crap, that's tomorrow."

On his way back through the Fayre after lunch he stopped to admire some silver jewellery on a stall selling crystals and offering tarot readings with an eye on a clear crystal pendant for Gwen. "Can you put some cord on this?" he asked, placing it in the palm of his hand to show the stall holder.

The woman shrugged. "It's my Mum's stall and we've just run out of cord and she's gone back to the van to get some more. She won't be long, do you mind waiting?"

Lance glanced at the clock on the wall above the door and shook his head. His next talk started in five minutes. "I'm giving a talk downstairs, can you keep this on one side for me and I'll collect it on the way back?"

"No problem, if you pay now you can collect it later," she said, taking the pendant from him and placing it into a green velvet pouch. "Just stop by on your way out later and I'll have the chord for you."

Lance handed over a tenner, thanked the woman, and headed downstairs for his final talk of the day.

The rest of the day – and his talk – went slowly but smoothly. Now that he knew Gwen would be waiting for him in London tomorrow, he was impatient to get going. Lance did not get impatient about very much, but when it came to Gwen – Lance couldn't wait to see her again, it had been too long since they had last had any time together.

He packed up his things and took them back to the van where it was parked on a side street a few minutes' walk away. It was as he was settling behind the wheel he remembered the pendant. With a heavy sigh he locked up the van and headed back to the fayre, knowing Gwen would love it. As he walked back he fished the personals page from his pocket and ran his gaze over the ad again with a happy sigh.

When he found his way to the stall there was another woman there, presumably the mother if the shock of pure white hair was anything to go on. He put down the newspaper page and said, "I've come to collect something that was put by earlier." The woman's eyes widened and she nodded solemnly.

"Of course, er, Sir," she stammered and fumbled with pushing her glasses onto her nose, reaching into the money tin that was on the table in front of her, lifting off the top coin layer and producing a the small green velvet pouch. "Here we are."

Lance undid the ties and peered into the pouch. Sure enough there was a cord attached to the crystal.

"Is everything there?" the stall holder asked, nervous green eyes holding his.

"Perfect. Thank you for holding this for me." Lance said, offering her a smile. "I'll leave you to it then." He placed the pouch into his inside jacket pocket, and turned to leave, picking his way through the later afternoon stragglers milling around as the stall holders started to pack up.

As he left the hall he held the door open for a blonde woman who was on her way inside who didn't look at him and didn't even say thank you – Lance glared after her, annoyed. That was one of Lance's pet peeves. He huffed his way back to the van, cursing when the heavens opened and the rain water seeped into the hole in the bottom of his boot. He set off for London wearing a pair of pink flip-flops Gwen had left behind on her last visit, hoping his boots dried out before morning. He'd sleep in a car park somewhere when he got to the capital; he couldn't risk missing Gwen. He missed her; he adored her.

He was half way down the M4 to London before he realised he'd left the newspaper advert on the market stall earlier. It was a good thing the advert was indelibly stamped on his memory.

-0-

Arthur was so bored he thought that going back to work and photocopying that ceiling high pile of contracts the office junior never ever got around to doing would be more interesting that this god-awful party of Sophia's.

Sophia, of course, was in her element, ever the perfect hostess, mingling with her guests with a joyous smile on her face, making sure all the guests were happy, and making sure that they knew they were happy because of her. Arthur couldn't even be bothered to feel bad that he wasn't enjoying himself. Even though Sophia had realised at the last moment that it was his birthday in two days' time and had made this a party for him at the last minute as well as a celebration for her new business, Arthur couldn't be less interested – the only people here for him were Leon and Morgana.

How could he be twenty-eight already? Sometimes he felt as though his life was already over. He was married to a woman he couldn't stand, running his dead father's company and wishing he was doing anything but. How did his life end up like this? When he was a teenager he had been sure he would be a writer; he was going to write books that movie producers would snap up with glee and make huge blockbuster movies starring Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet, and then he would win an Oscar for best original screenplay. Or honestly, any derivation of that would suit him. He'd be happy without the Oscar, hell, he'd be happy just to be writing; he needed a something more than this.

Running his father's multitude of companies – under the umbrella of the Pendragon Corporation - had never featured in his plans for his life, but when Uther had been taken ill when Arthur was just finishing university with a joint first in business – taken to please his father – and English – he'd stepped up to the plate at Uther's behest. Neither of them had expected that Uther would only live another six months.

In that six months Arthur had married Sophia, the daughter of one of his father's oldest friends and his own plans were put to one side in favour of pleasing Uther and keeping him alive.

"Imagining that Oscar again, Arthur?" asked his sister, and bane of his life, Morgana, sitting down next to him and taking a delicate sip of a bright purple cocktail she had clasped between her elegant red tipped fingers.

Arthur glared at her, but his heart wasn't in it. Truth be told, Morgana was one of the only people in his life he enjoyed spending time with, and if that didn't say everything about the state of his life then Arthur didn't know what did. "No, I'm imagining you spilling that cocktail all over that ridiculous white dress you're wearing. Honestly, Morgana – what's going on with the white?"

She bristled, "Like you'd know anything about fashion!" She gave him her famous five second once over as though that proved her point. Arthur thought it was unnecessary to be honest. There's nothing wrong with his suit. It was Armani!

"Do not think for one minute that your ability to go to the Armani shop and asking them to dress you in the latest suit means that you know a single thing about fashion," Morgana interjected before Arthur could voice his objections to her assessment.

Arthur's retort died in his throat, because she was right of course. He knew he needed to look smart for work, but he didn't really give a fuck about clothes, what's in, what's out – sometimes he thought he'd like to know – but what was the point? Who did he have to impress outside of work? Just Sophia, and honestly, he didn't think she would notice if Arthur were wearing a gimp suit with fluffy donkey ears.

He'd actually considered trying it just to prove a point.

"Enough about you," Morgana said cheekily, waving her free hand in his in front of his face. "Who is that?" She nodded in the direction of where Sophia was standing talking to a tall fair haired man. From the look in his face, he needed rescuing from whatever it was Sophia was talking to him about – at Arthur's best guess, the topic would probably be herself.

"That's Leon," Arthur replied, already feeling sorry for his friend if his sister was interested. "He's my new PA, he's just moved here – we went to uni together and kept in touch. He needed a job, I needed a PA…"

Morgana's fingers closed around Arthur's arm. "You're introducing me, right now." She shook her head and loosened her shoulders. "I can't believe you haven't before!"

Before Arthur knew it, he'd introduced Leon to Morgana and was feeling slightly guilty that the poor bloke was about to have his life taken over, but one look at his employee and good friend and he could see the stars in his eyes as he looked at Morgana and the guilt turned into jealousy. He'd never felt like that.

He doubted now that he ever would.

Sensing that no one would miss him, Arthur made his way to his study and switched on his computer. There was no time like the present for editing that last chunk of his book. Of course, before he got stuck in, he checked the national personals website, as he did every night – as he believed every writer should do religiously – that and people watching anyway – and he nearly died from joy when he saw the what he hadn't realised he'd been looking for:

Desperately Seeking Lancelot
Keep the faith. Saturday 12pm
Camden Lock Bridge
Love Guinevere

"Finally!" he crowed and clicked 'print'. He loved these two – one might say he was a little obsessed - and although he wondered why they didn't simply text one another like any normal person in this day and age would, he was secretly pleased that they didn't, because if it wasn't for Lancelot and Guinevere – not that he thought for one moment that that was their real names – he wouldn't have 100,000 words of a novel in progress. Not that it was anywhere near publishable at the moment, but it was a start. It's what he'd always wanted to do, and he needed to see if he's even any good at it. He knew that if he didn't try then he'd never know.

Saturday at 12pm at Camden Lock Bridge. This time he was going to be there to see his muses for himself.

Arthur was still in his study at 1.30am when the final guests left with a cacophony of drunken chattering and singing. Sophia appeared in the doorway, a delicate moue showing her displeasure of him for abandoning the party. It was an expression Arthur saw almost daily and it had no effect upon him other than irritation.

"Honestly, Arthur, are you trying to show me up?" she said and the pout turned into a scowl. "You disappear half way through the party and hide yourself away in here – tonight was important to me; anyone would think you didn't care!"

Arthur didn't really, but he didn't say so because that would lead to a fight and he didn't have the energy. "I was catching up on some work." Sophia didn't need to know that he wasn't referring to his day job. The moment he'd heard her approach; he'd minimised his Scrivener and clicked on the emergency Excel document he kept in the background for such occasions.

"Oh, whatever, I'm going to bed – are you coming up?" Her hand was on the door knob when she added, "We could put some work into making a baby?"

Arthur felt sick. "Not tonight," he managed, trying to remember when they'd actually last had sex and coming up blank.

"Fine" Sophia huffed and turned on her heel, slamming the study door behind her.

Arthur tiredly rubbed his eyes and wondered how much long he could carry on like this.

The following morning, after just a couple of hours sleep on the couch in his study, Arthur made his way into London on the tube, watching with his writer's brain as the leafy suburbs of Richmond blended into the much more densely populated London districts. He loved looking through the dirty glass and into people's gardens or in through windows to gather a snapshot of 'other people's lives'. The deeper into London the train went, the more crowded the train became and Arthur switched from looking outside to watching other passengers.

He changed at Embankment for Camden Town, the nerves bubbling in his stomach as though it was he who was meeting the mysterious Lancelot and not Guinevere. What did they look like? Would they match their fictional counterparts that Arthur had written into his novel? In his head Lancelot was in a witness protection scheme on the run, and Guinevere the girl he'd had to leave behind. Their real names were Susan and Jim and they were soul mates.

He checked his watch, relieved that there was plenty of time left to get to Camden Lock and to put himself in place, ready to observe. Okay, so maybe this was an odd way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but this was the first time Lancelot and Guinevere had met in London since Arthur had first seen the ads– the places varied, but were mostly major cities around the UK. This was research for his book anyway, it was work; and if they didn't turn out to be how he'd imagined them to be, then that was alright, his curiosity would be satisfied and he would enjoy thinking up a new life history for them.

Everybody else's lives were far more fascinating than his.

It was a hot June day, and the public were out in Camden en masse. Arthur fought his way through the packed streets to Camden Lock, worried that there would be too many people around for him to pick out Lancelot and Guinevere from the crowd. Everywhere he looked there were couples, holding hands, kissing, arguing – some of them looked happy, others looked sad, but not one half of them looked lonely. Arthur sighed and checked the time, 11.59am. Shit, what if they had arrived early and had already left?

That was when he heard, "Lancelot!" and Arthur turned his head so fast that he was lucky not to get whiplash. He saw a pretty young woman of mixed race with long curly black blue streaked hair – something not out of place in Camden - running along the bridge towards him, and the guy standing not five feet away from him, turning his attention from the water beneath the bridge and running to greet the woman, wrapping her in a tight hug and swinging her off her feet with a happy laugh.

Arthur sidled closer.

"Lance, I missed you so much," Guinevere said before kissing Lancelot. Arthur, now hiding behind a dog eared copy of yesterday's 'Metro' he'd had the foresight to pick up on the train, peered over the top to see the couple devouring one another, hands in each other's hair, one of Guinevere's hands cupping Lancelot's left buttock... Arthur took a moment then to study Lancelot. He hadn't seen his face yet, but what he could see was not unlike the Lancelot of his imagination. Average height, slender without being skinny, dark wavy hair – and he was wearing a leather jacket with a green and white spiral pattern on the back.

Guinevere was nothing like the girl in his imagination; he'd pictured straight long blonde hair that fell to the small of her back and at least six inches shorter; yet the real version seemed to match Lancelot perfectly.

They broke apart and Arthur heard Guinevere say, "I'm sorry, Lance, I can't stay – Freya's got us a last minute gig in Paris and we have to leave now to get there in time on the Eurotunnel. It's good publicity for us and-"

"Oh come on, Gwen – I drove all night to get here!"

Arthur lowered the newspaper without even realising and openly stared.

"I'm sorry – Freya only arranged it this morning – we're supporting The Sidhe!" She searched Lancelot's face expectantly but it was clear he'd never heard of the band. Look – I'll be back in a few days and we can hook up then? She rolled her eyes affectionately. "You've got that talk in London soon, we can get together then, right? I wouldn't do this if I didn't think we'd get some good publicity from it."

Arthur could tell from Lancelot's body language that he wasn't happy with this, but nevertheless he nodded. "Fine, Gwen – you know I love you regardless - but next time I'd like more than five minutes with you."

Guinevere leaned into Lancelot's ear and whispered something that Arthur couldn't catch before catching his chin in her hands and leaning up to kiss him gently. "I wish you'd get another phone," she said. "We could talk every day."

"I'd only lose it," Lancelot replied, sounding like a man who had lost many phones before finally giving up trying. At least Arthur had his answer as to why they communicated via the personals.

"You really are a luddite." The teasing insult was said with a smile. She reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. "Here's Merlin's card. Why don't you give him a call whilst you're in London? He'd love to meet you and I think you'd both get on."

Lancelot took the card and said, "Maybe I will." He put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. "If you think so highly of him it stands to reason I'll like him as well."

"Right, well, Elyan's parked the van on double yellow lines, so I really have to get going." Another kiss and she'd spun around and was half-running down the road, the Saturday shoppers parting to let her through. She reached a battered old transit van, turned to wave at Lancelot, and hopped into the passenger seat.

Lancelot's shoulders deflated and he turned, catching Arthur's guilty gaze and smiling the polite smile of a stranger, before walking to the side of the bridge and leaning over to look at the canal below. Arthur watched him from beneath his lashes, utterly fascinated at the prospect that this man had driven all night to see Guinevere, and they had only spent five minutes together – yet they were clearly completely smitten.

After a few minutes Lancelot sighed heavily, pushed back from the metal of the bridge and straightened his shoulders. He started to walk over the bridge away from Arthur. Without thinking, Arthur tucked his newspaper under his arm and followed.

Lancelot wasn't exactly a fast walker; Arthur would say he was more of an ambler, as he kept a good few metres behind him. This was his first attempt at following someone, but he'd seen enough movies to know that you were supposed to stay well back and keep plenty of other people between you.

It was actually the most fun Arthur had had in a long time.

When he reached the entrance to the Stables Market on the left Lancelot veered right, into the market. Arthur hesitated for a moment before following him inside, still keeping a stealthy distance as his quarry weaved through the crowded market, pausing to admire a couple of different stalls before eventually re-emerging back onto the main road and heading down towards the shops. He stopped outside a small shop front to admire the contents of the window. Arthur stopped and pretended to admire an Indian bedspread on a street stall, all the while keeping his eyes on Lancelot.

When Lancelot appeared to make a decision and entered the shop, Arthur walked over to look in the window, making a split second decision and following him inside. He headed towards the rock band t-shirts near the back. He pretended an interest Pink Floyd versus Led Zeppelin whilst covertly watching Lancelot from narrowed eyes.

"How much for the boots in the window?" Lancelot was asking the man at the desk.

"Ninety quid." The cashier glanced up at Lancelot when asked the price and back down at the notebook he was writing in as he replied. Arthur thought that he would never buy anything off someone with such poor customer service skills.

Arthur heard a heavy sigh. "Aw, seriously? I can't afford that! I really need some new boots, mine are worn letting in the rain and those are just what I need-"

"I'll swap them for your jacket," the cashier said in a bored tone. "They're worth about the same."

Lancelot sighed and ran his fingers down over the collar fondly. "Me and this jacket have been through a lot together, but for those boots-" The cashier stopped scribbling in his book and turned to lift the boots out of the window.

Arthur stared intently at a Smiths t-shirt for a minute, desperately aware of how small the shop was and not wanting Lancelot to get suspicious of him. When he glanced up again, Lancelot was pulling on the boots – classic biker boots with three buckles down the sides. He shrugged out of the jacket and handed it to the cashier.

Arthur's mobile phone shrilled loudly in his pocket, the ring tone Morgana had set for herself – Into the Groove by Madonna - and in his haste to silence it, he dropped it and it clattered underneath the rack of t-shirts. "Shit," he muttered and dropped to his haunches to scrabbled around for it as it continued to bellow out the cheesy eighties pop.

When he closed his hand around it the damned thing had stopped ringing of its own accord. He staggered to his feet, he glanced over at the cash desk – Lancelot had gone. "Shit," Arthur said again. He made it to the door in three steps and pushed his way outside, looked left and right – the street was milling with people but there was no sign of the man he had been following. Lancelot had gone. Arthur drooped in disappointment as reality crashed back down over his head. What the hell was he even thinking, following a stranger like he was a crazed stalker?

"Hey – you gonna buy that t-shirt or what?"

Arthur turned and found the cashier was standing in the doorway behind him, hands on hips looking pointedly at Arthur who only then realised he still held a 'Viva Hate' t-shirt in his left hand. "Uh – sorry!" He smiled politely at the man and followed him back into the shop and once he had replaced the t-shirt on the rail he noticed Lancelot's jacket was still on the counter. Before he could stop himself he asked, "How much for the jacket?"

-0-

"Arthur, what on earth are you wearing?" Sophia asked the moment that Arthur stepped through the front door later that afternoon. She was checking her appearance in the hall mirror, clearly on her way out.

Arthur shrugged out of the jacket and hung it over the bottom of the bannister, knowing how much that annoyed his wife. "It's a retro jacket."

"Retro? Doesn't that just mean second-hand? What, are we poor all of a sudden?" Sophia's face was such a picture of disgust that Arthur felt all the anger and annoyance that he'd been suppressing for years bubbling to the surface. The bloody woman was so shallow! "Anyway, I'm going out with the girls tonight so I'll see you later." Oblivious to Arthur's agitation she breezed past him, air kissed his cheek and in a cloud of cloying perfume, she was gone.

With a heavy sigh Arthur grabbed the jacket and swung it over his shoulder. In his ire he almost missed the simultaneous jangle and thunk of something hitting the floor. When he looked down at his feet he found a set of keys and a small velvet pouch. He crouched down to pick them up, curious. The keyring had no fob, just two keys, and when Arthur delved into the pouch he came out with a clear crystal pendant with a silver dragon wrapped around it on a black cotton cord.

His fingers tingled as he traced the surface. Arthur's mood lifted slightly. A dragon for a Pendragon.

Lancelot had not checked his pockets before handing over the jacket! Arthur checked the rest of the pockets which were empty apart from a small business card that read: Merlin Emrys, Contemporary Jewellery Design with a phone number on the front, and when Arthur flipped it over, there was a list of retail outlets as well as Camden Market, Spitalfields Market and Greenwich Market. Of course – he'd seen Lancelot take the card off Guinevere – Merlin was one of her friends who she'd suggested he call.

Beneath the text, so pale it was almost a watermark, was a grey dragon.

All anger at his wife forgotten, Arthur's face split into a shit eating grin. This was better than he could have hoped for!

-0-

It was Sunday morning before Lance realised he'd left his van keys in his jacket pocket. He'd dropped in on his best friend Percy who worked in the café bar in the basement of the Royal Court Theatre, and had ended up going back to his for a few drinks and a smoke. They'd ended up drunkenly planning a trip to Brighton for the following morning with an overnight stay in the van; but when they reached the spot where he had parked the van before going to meet Gwen the day before, Lance automatically went to put his hand in an inside pocket that was no longer there realisation dawned.

"Dammit! Sorry, Percy, looks like we're not going anywhere, I've left my keys in my old jacket." He wanted to kick himself, but if he did that every time he lost something he'd be permanently black and blue.

Percy shrugged. "Want me to break in?"

"No! I mean, I'm sure they haven't sold my jacket yet, we just need to go to the shop and find the key."

The shop was closed with a sign in the window saying, 'Closed for family party'. Lance was thoroughly screwed until tomorrow.

"Want me to break in?" Percy suggested for the second time that morning, nodding towards the shop.

Lance sighed. "No – thanks. Let's just go to the pub and I'll deal with it tomorrow."

Lance went back to the shop first thing on Monday morning on his own to discover that his jacket had been sold. "Did you find a key?" he asked, itching to kick himself for real.

"Nah, mate," said the cashier, a notch more friendly than he had been last time. "Sold the jacket right after you left, didn't I? Hadn't had time to do the pocket checks."

"Do you remember who to?"

"Some blond dude I think – a bit posh, like. I didn't really pay all that much attention."

"Right, well – if he finds the key and brings it back – could you call me on this number?" Lance grabbed a post-it off the side of the till and wrote Percy's number on it.

"No problem, mate," the cashier took the number and put it into the till.

Lance was about to leave when he spotted the newspaper on the counter. "Mind if I have a quick look?" Lance could never not check the paper when he got the chance; there could be another ad from Gwen to meet up on her way back from Paris.

"Take it, I'm done with it."

Lance shoved the newspaper under his arm and went to the café over the road for a banana milkshake and a read of the paper, paid for with the last of his loose change. His eyes widened when he saw the advert in the personals:

Desperately Seeking Lancelot
Regarding key. Tuesday 12pm
Camden Lock Bridge
A Stranger

Lance sighed in happy relief. His whole life was in that van and he couldn't afford repairs if he had to ask Percy to break in and for a new barrel for a new key.

He'd lost the spare key three years ago in Ireland when researching his book on Irish Ley Lines. It had been a mistake to accept a drinking challenge from an Irishman.

"Good going stranger," he said, earning himself a funny look off the waitress. He threw her his most charming smile and earned one in returned, before re-reading the advert. Pleased as he was that the stranger wanted to give him back his key, he couldn't help but wonder how they knew to contact him this way. He supposed he must've left a cutting of one of the ads in his pocket as well.

Anyway, he could stay at Percy's for another night and go and get his key back tomorrow. He did wonder who the stranger was, but decided not to worry too much. Lance was a great believer in everything happening for a reason.

-0-

Merlin Emrys was putting the finishing touches to a commissioned piece when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Wiping his hands on his jeans he fished it out of his pocket and pressed the answer button. "'Lo?"

"Merlin, thank God! It's me, Gwen."

"Oh hi, Gwen. You sound flustered, is everything okay?" Merlin picked up the ring he had been working on and held it up to the light. It was almost ready.

The phone crackled as Gwen must have gone under a bridge, cutting off the first half of her sentence. "…favour? It's Lance. Someone's put an ad in the paper asking to meet him tomorrow – I'm worried it's one of those weird women that stalk him around all the time. He's so clueless, Merlin. He really doesn't realise how attractive he is, and all those women that come to his seminars- Would you go and make sure he's alright?"

"Gwen, I've not even met Lance yet! And I've got this commission to finish-"

"Merlin - please."

Merlin sighed. He really didn't have time for this! But – Gwen was one of his oldest and best friends. It had always been Merlin, Gwen and Will against the world. "Can't Will go? He has met Lance after all."

"He's on holiday in Spain with his cousin, remember? Anyway, as if I'd let Will near a possible stalker – he'd start a fight regardless!"

Merlin laughed, despite himself. Will was ridiculously protective of people he cared about. "Point taken." He glanced at his watch and suppressed a groan. "When and where?"

"Noon, Camden Lock Bridge."

"Gwen, that's in half an hour!" Merlin mentally wrote the afternoon off; he didn't live that far from Camden, but the place was a traffic nightmare, even when the market wasn't open. "Alright, fine – how will I know who Lance is?"

"He'll be wearing a leather jacket with a green and white spiral on the back, you can't miss it."

"You want me to call you when I've found him?"

"Please – though we're off now to the South of France, Freya's on fire sorting out more gigs for us and Elyan's insisting on taking the scenic route so I might not have a signal but please leave me a message."

"'Kay," Merlin patted his pockets in search of his keys before remembering they were still in the door. "I'd better get moving then if I'm going to make it to Camden in half an hour!"

"Merlin, I love you."

"Love you too, speak to you later, yeah?"

-0-

"Hello, have we met before?"

Arthur glanced sideways at the woman who appeared beside him as he leant back against the side of the bridge to scan the street for Lancelot. He was inordinately excited to be meeting Lancelot in person. Never mind that he and Sophia had had a blazing row that morning and he had finally spat out that he had had enough and wanted a divorce. The thought of his wife's face turning from lightly tanned to a furious purple when she spat 'no one leaves me' was actually quite amusing. He should have done that years ago, and he really didn't have an excuse as to why he hadn't other than apathy. He was in no mood now for being hit upon by a glamorous blonde woman – no matter how attractive she was.

"I don't think so," he replied and shuffled along so that she was out of his personal space and frowning when she followed, clearly not taking the hint.

"Oh, I think we have," she purred, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his arm.

Arthur shook his arm free, meeting her cold blue eyes. "I saidno, now would you mind-"

The smile fell off her face. "There's no need to play it dumb."

"What-" The hand clamped over his arm again with a tighter grip. "Get off me!"

"You know what I want."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Arthur pulled his arm free again and stepped backwards just as the woman attempted to pull him towards her. It all happened so fast, one moment he was pulling away, the next he had lost his footing and was falling to the ground. His head hit the tarmac with a resounding thwack and everything went black.

-0-

"Hey!" Merlin jumped off his bike and pushed his way through the gathering crowd around the prone man on the floor. He vaguely registered a blonde woman retreating to a distance to watch – presumably 'the stranger' - as he crouched down beside the unconscious figure on the floor – the man in the spiral jacket – and said, "Lance?"

"Mhhnng."

"Back off folks," Merlin said to the gathering spectators. "He's with me. He's fine; it's just a little bump."

He ignored the indignant chuntering come from the crowd and placed a hand on Lance's forehead trying to sense if there was anything wrong with him other than a temporary loss of consciousness. Lance's eyes flew open and Merlin gasped – and for a second time seemed to stop - as he was faced with the biggest baby blues he'd ever seen, which just happened to be placed within a devastatingly handsome face. Marry that up with the deliciously mussed blond hair and the fantastic physique of the rest of him and Merlin couldn't help muttering, "Gwen has all the luck," as he shook himself out of his stupor.

"Where am I?" Lance said as Merlin removed his hand and smiled down at him, hoping he didn't look as dazed as he felt. "Who're you?"

"I'm Merlin. I'm a friend of Gwen's. She saw the ad in the paper and was worried."

"Huh?"

"Come on, let's get you up." Merlin glanced around him and saw that the persistent 'fan' of Lance was still hovering. He pulled him to his feet and led him over to the side of the bridge. "What was that woman after?"

"What woman?"

"The woman you were struggling with. Who was she?"

"I – don't know."

Lance looked so confused that Merlin's heart melted. He should have known that this wouldn't be as straight forward as Gwen had made out.

"You areLancelot, right?" There couldn't be two people in London with that distinctive pattern on their jacket, and if there were, what were the chances of them both being in Camden at the same time?

"I – don't know."

"You don't know?" Merlin frowned. Gwen had told him that Lance was something of a hippy and prone to living in a world of his own a lot of the time, but not to the extent that he would forget his own name. "Have you got any ID on you?"

"Um-" Lance's brows drew together in confusion.

"Okay – I'm just going to search your pockets to see if you have a wallet." Merlin coughed. "Er – if you could check your jeans I'll look in the jacket."

He tentatively pushed a hand into Lance's jacket pocket. The first pocket held a small velvet pouch, which Merlin removed before checking the other, coming out with a keyring with two keys on it and a business card with his name on.

"This is my card, so I think I must have the right guy." Merlin held the keys up for closer inspection and reached out with his magic. "These are for a VW camper." He put the items back into the pocket and tried not to notice the fine blond stubble on Lance's chin.

"I can't find a wallet," Lance said with disappointment.

"Maybe it fell into the water when you fell over? How about a phone?"

Lance shook his head.

"Alright; let's go and get this bump checked."

Merlin took his second full on look at Lance then, annoyed when his heart rate increased. The poor man looked so lostand Merlin swore under his breath.

"I am not attracted to Gwen's boyfriend."

-0-

Lance knew he should have walked to the meeting with the stranger, but he'd been running late following a few too many drinks the night before. So he'd taken the tube and the blasted thing had been stuck in a tunnel for twenty-five minutes. When he emerged from the Underground, blinking into the daylight to run to the rendezvous point, there was no sign of anyone looking as though they might be waiting for him, and certainly no one in his jacket.

Lance stopped a passer-by and asked them for the time, and when they said it was nearly half past twelve he kicked the side of the bridge in annoyance. "Ow!"

He was going to have to take Percy up on the offer of breaking in to his van. He needed his things!

Lance hobbled back in the direction of the tube station, cursing his stupid new boots for not protecting his toes when he was in the mood for kicking stuff!

-0-

Merlin took Lance to Uncle Gaius who was a retired doctor without a four hour minimum wait and plenty of connections in the right places.

"You'll need to keep an eye on him overnight, but otherwise his memory should come back within a couple of days," Gaius declared after running a few checks.

This wouldn't happen on Grey's Anatomy! Shouldn't he go for a scan or something?

"What – Gaius-" Merlin gaped. He glanced briefly at the still dazed looking blond before grabbing Gaius by the elbow and almost dragging him into the other room out of earshot. "He can't stay with me! I only met him this morning." As far as Merlin knew Lance lived in a camper van and had no fix address to go to.

Gaius smirked. "You should be gentler with your amore's Merlin." Then he waggled his eyebrows.

Merlin felt the blood creep up his neck as the flush took hold; he was already finding Lance far more attractive than he'd care to admit. "He's not – Lance is Gwen's boyfriend. You know the one who studies mystical energy or whatever."

"Oh." Gaius perked up at the mention of one of his favourite subjects. "Well, see to it that when he gets his memory back you bring him back to visit; fascinating subject, fascinating,"

Merlin huffed.

"Merlin, my boy, you of all people should take more if an interest in these things. With your talents– don't you want to know more about why you are the way you are?"

"I'm fed up of trying to find answers," Merlin said sadly, think back to his teens when he had been obsessed with researching magic. "It is what it is." Sometimes he thought he should he utilising his skills doing something more worthwhile than making jewellery, but he loved what he did and he had no intention of changing it anytime soon. The magic he kept hidden. Other than Gaius, only Gwen and Will knew.

Gaius' face was stamped with disapproval. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna call Gwen," he said. "She might know if he's got any friends he could stay with, because he's not staying with me."

-0-

Arthur felt dizzy. The man who had found him on the bridge was muttering under his breath as he grabbed his helmet from behind the seat and stowed it under his arm. Arthur nodded to himself – this guy was Merlin and his own name was Lance– which was odd because he really didn't feel like a Lance; not that he knew what a Lance ought to feel like. He lifted his hands and stared down at them; these were his hands and they looked familiar. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the wing mirror on Merlin's bike he recognised himself, yet he couldn't place his own name to his face.

"Come on," Merlin said, tipping his head in the direction of what looked like an old warehouse and some fire escape steps. "I'm up here."

Arthur glanced around, confused. "People live here?" he asked. Surely this was an industrial area?

Merlin's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Yes, people live here," he replied icily. "There are four flats in this building actually and I only use the steps to get in because it's quicker – there is a front door as well. I work from home and my workshop is here too."

"Oh. What do you make?" Arthur tried not to pull a face; what a grim place to live and work. Yet – as he'd found out earlier when Merlin had somehow known where to find where he'd apparently left it – he himself lived in an old VW camper van. One of the keys that had been in his pocket had fitted perfectly, and Merlin had put his bike in the back when Arthur had stared blankly at the steering wheel he had sighed heavily and told Arthur to shove over, driving them both here and parking the van on the roadside.

Nothing in that van even looked vaguely familiar. Arthur sighed; everything felt wrong. He lived in a van. Apparently, he also wrote books about Ley Lines and old sacred sites of worship and that was how he spent most of his time. He didn't feel like he was a person who lived in van.

"I'm a jeweller," Merlin spoke over his shoulder, dragging Arthur back to the present, as he made his way up the stairs, rummaging in his pocket for his keys as he went. Arthur followed him, looking up at his figure as he did so; Merlin had a nice arse.

Arthur stopped dead and blinked. Was he gay? He glanced back at Merlin's arse as he made his way up the stairs in front of him. Yes. He must be! He shrugged. Merlin's arse was certainly worth a second look.

For the first time since 'the incident', Arthur felt a smile breaking. There could be worse things than having to stay here with Merlin.

Merlin unlocked a door and pushed his way in with his shoulder. "This is it," he said, putting the helmet down on the floor just inside the door. "This is me."

Arthur gasped as the sheer size of the place, it was at least the size of – of – well, Arthur wasn't exactly sure about that, but it was on the generous side that was certain. The whole space was open plan, with just a couple of doors leading off which Arthur surmised was the bathroom and the official front door. The walls were red brick, and in the middle of the room was a ginormous glass statue of a dragon, lit from the bottom with a blue light that gave it a watery like feeling.

"Bathroom's over there," Merlin nodded towards a door in the far corner. "The place is a little sparse, Nim, my uh, girlfriend left me a couple of weeks ago and she took a lot of the ornamental stuff." He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush running over his sharp cheekbones.

Arthur dropped his rucksack – found under the bunk in the van – to the floor and said, "Where do I sleep?" He tried to stifle the disappointment that Merlin had had a girlfriend even as another train of thought suggested that he could be bi.

Merlin's flush intensified. "I've only got the one bed." He met Arthur's eyes and quickly looked away again. "Um – we could get the mattress off the bed in the van and I've got a spare duvet and more covers."

It was on the tip of Arthur's tongue to suggest that he'd be quite happy sharing Merlin's bed, but he managed to bite his tongue. He didn't want to scare him off – or get kicked out.

The bed was on the opposite side of the room to the kitchen area, the dragon statue acting as a divider that kept the kitchen and dining area separate from the living and sleeping area.

The kitchen had a breakfast bar with two stools and the living area had a small flat screen TV attached to the wall with a red corduroy sofa and armchair – both of which screamed 'Ikea' to Arthur.

Why would he know that furniture was from Ikea but not know his own address?

"That's my workspace over there," Merlin continued, pointing at the area near the window which held a couple of large old desks strewn with tools and a battered looking laptop. "Please don't touch anything."

"I – that is – thank you for this. You don't have to."

"Yes, well, Gwen would never forgive me if I left her boyfriend to roam the streets with amnesia!" Merlin mock shuddered. "She can be feisty that one."

Arthur smiled at Merlin's theatrics and then the penny dropped. "What – girlfriend?" He was gay! He was pretty sure that he couldn't have a girlfriend, right?

"Yes – Gwen – she's the one who sent me to find you, remember?" He winced as he seemed to remember the amnesia. "Sorry – I keep forgetting."

"Er-" Arthur closed his eyes and tried to picture a Gwen and came up with nothing. The only face he could picture was Merlin's. Even Dr Gaius had faded to nothing already. Merlin was the only person he knew, his only anchor to whoever it was he supposedly was. Lancelot. What kind of a stupid name was that? "Are you sure my name is really Lancelot – I mean – Lancelot and Guinevere? Maybe it's just a pet name or something?" Somehow that was actually worse!

-0-

Merlin smiled and when Lance returned it his tummy flipped. Quickly he looked away. "Yeah, well, it's a standing joke between me and Gwen – all we need is an Arthur to go with Merlin and we'd be complete!"

He spotted his battered mobile phone on the kitchen counter where he'd left it in his hurry to go and find Lance earlier, the red light was flashing indicating a message, and the missed call list told him it was Gwen. He played it back on the speaker phone, watching Lance for a reaction to Gwen's voice.

"Merlin, did you find Lance? Can you call me back and let me know what's going on? Leave me a message if there's no signal, not sure where we'll be later."

Lance frowned. "She doesn't sound familiar at all!" He shuffled over to the armchair and flung himself down on to it, rubbing his eyes. Blue eyes rose to meet Merlin's worried gaze, "I'm sorry you're stuck with me."

He looked so fed-up that Merlin had to fight not to go over there and hug him; because this was someone he had only just met, who was vulnerable and confused, and Gwen'sboyfriend, and this thrumming under his skin as his magic activated in the light of his attraction to Lance – it couldn't happen. Hugging the object of the attraction would not be wise. At all.

"Do you remember anything? Even the smallest thing could be important."

The blond head shook, "No – yes – when I close my eyes, I see a spiral."

"Like the one on the back of your jacket?" Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow.

Lance yanked the jacket off and held it up in front of him. "Oh yeah." He sighed. "Shit."

"You hungry?" Merlin asked as his own stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since his bowl of cornflakes that morning.

Lance immediately said, "Ravenous."

"Let's get some take-away then," Merlin suggested, mentally cataloguing the contents of his fridge and deciding that two mushrooms and a soya yoghurt weren't going to get them very far. "What do you fancy – pizza or Chinese?"

The reply was instant, "Chinese." Then Lance said, "How can I know that I prefer Chinese food yet not know my own name?"

"I don't know, maybe on some instinctive level you know what you do and don't like, it's just actual facts that are eluding you." Merlin picked up his mobile. "There's a menu stuck to the fridge. Why don't you have a look to see what you fancy while I try to call Gwen?"

"I don't have any money to pay for the food. I don't know where my wallet is or anything." Lance's expression turned to genuine worry.

"I can afford a take-away, Lance, don't worry about it." Merlin smiled at his uninvited guest and picked up his mobile, watching as he crossed the room to the fridge and began to read the menu, his face serious and his posture stiff. Merlin couldn't help himself, focussing in on the man's arse and thighs, and what thighs they were- Shit, no, no, no – he turned his back and hit 'return call' on his phone.

Gwen's phone went straight to voicemail. "Gwen, it's me, Merlin. Lance is fine." He didn't want to worry her with the whole amnesia thing whilst she was so far away. "He's going to stay here with me for a few days whilst he's in London." As soon as Merlin said it he knew it was true. There was no way his conscience would allow him to kick an amnesiac who didn't know anyone but him out onto the street. He was just going to have to rein in his ogling and lustful thoughts.

He finished the message to Gwen and almost jumped out of his shoes when he turned to find Lance right in front of him holding the menu. "Mushroom curry and rice please," he said with a small smile. "And – spring rolls?"

"That's exactly what I was going to order for myself," Merlin said, surprised. "I'll just double the order." He took the menu off Lance and tapped the number off the front into his phone.

When he'd made the order he went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Come on," he said. "We can eat on the roof."

He elbowed open the door next to the fridge and backed through it, which brought them into a small hallway with another two other doors. Merlin went through the first one, loving the instant breeze that floated down to greet him because he'd been up on the roof that morning and not shut the top door. He felt Lance following close behind. In his mind's eye, Lance was checking out his arse just as Merlin had checked his out earlier. He knew he was skinny but he also knew that these jeans did wonders for him. Nim had picked them out for him – three days before she'd left him for that wanker Myror.

He pushed all thoughts of his ex out of his head and stepped out onto the roof, admiring the view of various low buildings in front that gave way to the business district in ahead and the shimmering windows and lights of the offices there; still half in love with the Gherkin for the way it broke up the monotony of the skyline.

"I spend a lot of time up here in the summer," Merlin explained to Lance without prompting. He span around, one arm flung out to show off the various tubs of plants he had adoring the space, and the large, almost sofa-sized, bean bag he like to lie on and watch the stars.

"This is – nice," Lance said. "How do you keep the rain off that?" He nodded towards the bean bag.

Merlin could hardly say that it was magically moisture repellent so he lied and said, "It's got a cover."

Lance walked to the side of the roof and looked down at the street below. "How long have you lived here?"

"Three years. The building belongs to my mate Will so I get it cheap." He said the words then wondered why he'd felt the need to explain himself. "You've met Will – last time you were staying at Gwen's – but I was in Germany at the time so I couldn't be there."

Lance turned to look at him as he spoke, his lips twisted into a frown. "Thanks, Merlin – for taking me in like this – I wouldn't know where to go otherwise."

The desire to walk over there and brush the hair off Lance's face and to lean in and kiss those worried lips assailed Merlin and he looked away quickly. "Why don't you take a seat and light a couple of the candles – there's a lighter under that blue flowerpot – I'll go and grab some plates - the food should be here soon."

Merlin fled.

This was ridiculous. He was on the rebound, that's all – it had only been a couple of weeks since Nim had left him. She had taken some of their shared things but she hadn't taken his heart – her defection had come as something of a relief in the end. It was never a good idea to move in with someone following a one night stand that would never have been anything more had she not thought she was pregnant despite them having used a condom. By the time Nim had found out that it wasn't pregnancy making her late but some hormonal something or other, she had been living with Merlin for six weeks and that that had been nearly six months ago.

So no, Merlin had not been too sad to see the back of Nim, and the only thing he missed was the regular sex that came with having a live in lover. The presence of Lance in his living space, all blond and tanned and fucking gorgeous was of course going to be giving him inappropriate thoughts.

They ate their food side by side on Merlin's bean bag, the air still warm after the heat of the day. Once done, Merlin took the plates back downstairs, returning with more beer and his battered old radio.

"I just wondered if you remembered music, or if maybe music might help you to remember." Merlin placed it on the floor beside them and fiddled with the dial until he finally picked up a station. "It's not the best, but hopefully they'll play something familiar," he said, suddenly hyper aware of Lance's nearness, and of the romance in the setting – candlelit rooftop with soft music and moonlight.

The first song that offered its musical wisdom to the night was 'Enjoy the Silence' by Depeche Mode. Merlin watched as Lance concentrated before huffing out a breath and reeling off the song title. "Wow," Merlin laughed. "I half thought that if you couldn't remember personal facts that you wouldn't know this." The two of them waited in companionable silence for the next song which was Placebo's 'Teenage Angst', and this drew a blank face, yet Lance recognised 'You Held the World in Your Arms' by Idlewild and 'Helena' by My Chemical Romance.

"I could try tuning the radio into a more poppy station," Merlin offered. "Some eighties and nineties classics – even if pop wasn't your thing you'd be familiar with them by osmosis."

"No – leave it – this is nice," Arthur said, placing a hand on Merlin's knee and offering a megawatt smile that made Merlin's tummy do things that it hadn't done since Merlin's first crush when he was twelve. Will's Mum had never returned his affections.
He swallowed and said, "You know, you're not at all what I expected." Nervously he took a swig of his beer as his magic tingled beneath his skin in some kind of recognition of Lance's touch.

"Oh?" Lance said, his hand moving higher on Merlin's thigh. "What did you expect?"

It was all Merlin could do not to throw the bottle onto the floor and straddle him. "Um, well, Gwen said you were gorgeous – and you are-" God, was he bloody gorgeous! "But she also said you were really laid back and – well I suppose that hitting your head like that and forgetting who you are isn't the most relaxing of things but – you're just not how I pictured you."

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Merlin silently groaned. "You do remember what you look like don't you – or you saw your reflection in the bathroom mirror at Gaius'?" Merlin's bathroom didn't have a mirror.

A soft pink flush coloured Lance's cheeks. "I didn't look unfamiliar to myself, but I couldn't say I'd have known it was me if it was a photo and not a reflection." He looked so pathetic in that moment, so adorable, that Merlin's instincts kicked in and he leant forward and placed a kiss on Lance's lips. Lance froze briefly, the hand on Merlin's thigh tightening its grip, before he responded, teasing the seam of Merlin's lips with his tongue to request entrance, and before Merlin could blink, his bottle of beer was spinning across the rooftop and he was being pressed back into the softness of the beanbag as a surprisingly heavy Lance kissed him senseless.

God, Merlin couldn't breathe, and it wasn't from the weight of the man on top of him, it was the dizzy pleasure that rushed through his body, the tingle of the magic beneath Lance's fingertips as they held his hands above his head, from the sheer want that consumed him. He canted his hips upwards, feeling his cock harden inside his jeans as Lance plundered his mouth almost desperately. He couldn't think, all he knew was that he'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this man.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, sending his eyes wide and reality tumbling back. "Mph – no – Lance – stop!" he gasped, yanking at his hands for Lance to release them. Lance immediately sat up and shifted away from Merlin.

"Sorry – I-"

"No," Merlin said, finding his mobile phone and staring down at it with a frown, knowing it was Gwen who had been trying to get him. "I kissed you first – I shouldn't have – Gwen's one of my best friends!"

Lance reached out a hand to Merlin then seeming to realise what he was doing he pulled back and said, "I don't even know Gwen, but you Merlin – there's just something about you."

"It's late and you've had a traumatic day," Merlin excused Lance's words, he didn't want to hear that there was 'something about him' – this man was Gwen's boyfriend, the man she had professed to Merlin on the very day she met him, that Lancelot DuLac was the man she was going to marry one day. Merlin knew she would've married him there and then if Lance hadn't been such a wanderer and Gwen's own lifestyle had been more stable. "Maybe it's a good time to turn in."

He'd just kissed his best friend's future husband! Fuck.

-0-