bgenjkag7590

SFDC ch 2

2006-07-23T20:30:42Z

Ok so here's the next two chapters, so im being computer retarted and i can figure out how to create links for these stories instead of making it all long like it is now. So if anyone can tell me lol thatd be great.

Same Fight Different Century

Chapter 2: Bors, Vanora, and all their little.....bastards....er kids

The bar, Hadrian’s Wall Pub, Lancelot and Tristan had found was right across the street from their new place of residence. The two had gone there for a celebratory drink once they had gotten their PI licences and officially opened their agency (though the only job they had gotten so far was to find a missing dog).
Lancelot decided the beer was good enough so it was time to go find out if the food was the same. Tristan had gone out to do whatever it was he did when he disappeared and he needed lunch so he headed over to the pub.
He walked in and paused a second while his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. The first thing he heard was the squealing and arguing of many little children, ignored by all of the regulars. He walked in and almost collided into two of them chasing each other around with toy swords. Cursing he then had to jump out of the way of another who came rushing out of the back room. Looking around he could see at least five more kids and shook his head in wonder at where the hell they had come from.
Quickly he made his way to the bar before he could be stopped by anymore of those little devils. Sitting down he spotted the bartender, a harried looking red head woman who was giving a drink to a customer while yelling for someone in the back.
“Bors!” She yelled. “Get your lazy arse out here and tell them to stop bothering the customers!” She shouted menacingly.
A large bald headed man came out from the back room with a baby in each arm. He looked as if he was about to yell back at the woman, most likely his wife, but stopped and cowered back a little at the fierce look on her face. “Come on you little bastards! Time for lunch!” He bellowed out in an impressively loud voice.
All the little ‘bastards’ froze and fell silent. Their little heads turned towards the man and they jumped up yelling in joy and all rushing at the same time towards the door. The man shook his head and cursed at them but all the while was smiling fondly as he herded them into a different room.
The red head finally noticed Lancelot at the bar. She walked over to him and smiled kindly, “‘aven’t seen you here. I’m Vanora.”
Lancelot smiled, “Lancelot.” he said shaking her hand. “Just moved in right across the street.”
Vanora peered out the window at his building. “Oh someone finally bought the apartment building.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Her eyes widened in shock, “Always been your dream, to buy an apartment building in this part of town? Doubt you’ll get good business.”
“Didnt buy it for that, started up a detective agency.” He grinned proudly. “You know anyone who would want a job?”
“Yeah me, what kind of jobs do you have?”
“We need a secretary and some other employees, preferably with good connections if you know what I mean.”
Vanora looked back at the back room where loud noises were coming, “ I need a second job, what with all of them, I’m afraid I don’t have much experience being a secretary, and I may need to bring some of my kids.”
“My lady,” He said, “I would be honored if you’d work for me.” He winked at her suggestively.
“I’m almost a married woman sir.” She laughed.
“Almost?” An eyebrow rose.
“Well considering we did have I think nine children together.”
“Bloody hell....nine.”
She laughed again at his shocked face. “When should I begin boss?”
“Ummm.” he was still in a bit of shock over the idea of having nine kids. “Next Monday, I guess come in at eight.”
“Thank you, now what would you like?”
He ordered a sandwich and beer and she promised it’d be ready shortly.
When she came back with his food the bald man followed. He sat down next to Lancelot and stuck out a hand. “Bors Ganis.”
“Lancelot Dulac.” he took the hand and shook it. “Like your pub and its food I’m afraid I may become a regular.” He threatened.
Bors laughed, “Well thanks anyway for giving Vanora a job, are you sure you wouldn’t mind the little bastards coming with her?”
Lancelot shrugged, “There a lot of rooms in the place and we need the help.”
Bors nodded, “You ever need any help with anything, I used to be a cop so I know some people.”
“Be real great thanks, and if you know anyone who’d want a job, even part time, or needs a PI just point em our way.”
“I got a friend of mine, Dag, he’s a construction worker but if you ever need muscle then he’s your man.”
Lancelot grinned as he continued to eat his sandwich and chat with Bors about football. He’d found a good place to eat, a secretary, connection, and muscle all in one afternoon.

Their first few cases had came mostly from Bors suggesting them to his customers. None of them were big, some missing persons, others angry spouses trying to prove adulterary. They had gotten their first wealthy client, a woman coming to them to prove her husband was cheating on her with the maid, and after that others followed. It had only been a year and a half and they found themselves doing well.
“Lancelot.” Vanora called him from her desk.
He had retreated into his office and was trying to treat a splitting headache probably caused by that baseball bat. “Damn punk.” The kid had been a lead to a missing persons case, but ended up trying to turn bash Lancelot’s head in.
He’d been right when he told Tristan that he’d like it because there’d be fighting and when he went and got them guns and permits. The job was dangerous, especially since it often led him into Shirefield (a part of the city that was dangerous even compared to where he lived and supposedly controlled by some wack job and his pagan cult). Tristan, sometimes Bors, Dag, and especially himself (it seemed to him that complete strangers just simply enjoyed attacking him, Tristan said it was because he was annoying) had visited a doctor Bors knew who asked no questions.
“Lancelot!” Groaning and grumbling about lazy employees who made him come to them, he got up and walked out of his dark office wincing at the sharp pain in his head at the bright light.
He looked at his attractive secretary and just sat down in a chair, too tired to even hit on her.
Vanora looked at him with a worried expression on her face, also noticing that he wasnt bothering her. “You ok Lance?” She asked.
“Yeah just a little cut and a headache, damn fool came up on me from behind.” He had beaten the kid in the end, somehow seeing despite the blood that had gotten in his eyes.
“Well you got another client.” He shook his head.
“No, we already have three other cases to work on.”
“He’s rich Lancelot, a politician. Looking for a stolen heirloom, I doubled the price to see how much he was willing to pay, ended up offering to pay more.”
“When’s he coming in?”
“Two days, only free time he has supposedly.”
“We’d need another employee, I was thinking of getting one anyway but we never needed to. Think Gilly and uh that other older one can go put flyers up?” He only was able to remember the oldest of the bastards’ names, there were nine of them with one more on the way.
She nodded and immediately turned to her computer and started typing up a help wanted flyer.

Two days later and Lancelot was at the bar with Vanora. Tristan was watching the office and they had just finished from meeting with Lord Henry Worthshire.
The nobleman had been refereed to them by a lady friend who had hired them to find her run away daughter.
One of his houses, a small town house in London, had been robbed. Most of what had been taken was replaceable, except for a three foot tall gold statue of the greek god Ares that had been in the family for years.
The statue was so important to him that he was willing to pay a ridiculously large amount of money to get it returned to him (not that Lancelot had any problem with that).
They were to start immediately, but Lancelot had to work alone because Tristan, Dag, and they had even gotten Bors working for them, were all trying to finish up the other cases.
“I need help!” He groaned and Vanora gave him a sympathetic look then handed him a beer. “Thanks.”
“You better not be planning on going down into Shirefield alone Lance.” She warned.
“Well don’t have a choice do I? I gotta find out if its been put into the black market or has been priced up.” Suddenly his cell phone rang. “Dulac.” He said.
“Got a guy in here wanting a job.” Tristan replied.
“Well thank bloody god! You think he’s good for it.”
He could practically see Tristan shrugging, “He looks like he has potential.”
“Good, listen I’ll be right over don’t talk to him too much, or do anything well normal for you. I don’t want to scare him away.” Tristan hung up and Lancelot got up and said goodbye to Vanora before running across the street.

Lancelot didn’t stop running until he reached the office door. Stopping to fix his hair, wipe the sweat off his face, and fix his clothes, he then opened the door and walked in.

SFDC Prologue and Chapter 1

2006-07-18T06:23:26Z

Ok so im real new at this so b nice lol.

Title: Same Fight Different Century
Pairing: A/L, G/G, and who knows who else
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine (but i wish they were!)
Rating:R just to be safe
Summary: Its 1980 and there is an old myth that says King Arthur and his knights would rise again to protect Britain once again, but what does 16 year old Arthur Pendragon have to do with any of that?

Prologue: The Beggining

Arthur Pendragon smiled at the beautiful summers day and the acres of empty countryside he had all to himself.

Finally after a year of hard work at a boarding school in London, he loved the city but his summer respite to their country house was always welcome, Arthur could just relax and have no worries for the two months of summer vacation.

The sixteen year old had just arrived at the country house the day before and except for the help who never bothered him, he was alone for at least a week until he was to be joined by his father, step mother, and half sister Morgan.

He left the house right after breakfast. As a young boy he had loved to explore the extensive grounds of the Pendragon’s country house (mansion was a much better word) right outside London. He would map out certain places and have imaginary adventures and games. Now, even though he had outgrown his imaginary games, Arthur still liked spending whole days outside walking around the grounds.

That day he decided to avoid the open fields and instead wander into the woods. Humming some random tune he breathed in the fresh air and let his mind drift.

School was going good, he was captain of the rugby team, the class president, and well liked by everyone. The work was hard but not unbearable, his father had actually been finding time to spend with him, Morgan seemed to have temporarily outgrown her spoildness, and his step mother was getting less and less horrid.

Life was good.

Then, tripping over a branch he was forced to become aware of his surroundings. Recognizing nothing he realized he may be lost. “Shit,” he cursed.

Too busy looking around, he didnt see a second branch that caused him to lose his footing. He stumbled off the path and tried to grab for a tree but instead slipped on something and went tumbling thru the bushes and down a hill.

Once he reached the bottom of the hill with a thud he opened his eyes and grabbed at his ankle which hurt like hell. Rustling caused him to shoot up into a sitting posistion, and Arthur found himself staring at a woman.

She was standing a few yards away from him, smiling kindly. Her long pale blonde hair fell just down to her waist and she wore a simple white dress wet and stuck to her thin body. Wise blue eyes met his and she was soaking wet from head to toe as if she was just caught in a downpour or went for a swim with her clothes on.

“Oh, uh hello.” Arthur greeted quickly jumping to his feet and pushing away the feeling that he knew her.

The mysterious woman turned away for him and began to walk away, raising her hand to motion for him to follow.

Against his better judgement Arthur limped after the strange woman, following her into the dark woods.

He followed her to a clearing in the middle of the forest where there was a large lake Arthur had never seen even though he was fairly certain this was still part of his property.

“Excuse me? Mam who are you?” Arthur asked awkwardly.

Ignoring him the woman just continued walking towards the lake, not stopping when she reached the water. Arthur was frozen in shock and curiosity as she kept on walking into the lake until finally her head disappeared under the water.

“Jesus Christ?” he whispered. Finally he pulled himself together when he realized that it had been a few minutes and she hadnt come up for air.

Kicking off his shoes, he didnt bother wasting time taking off his shirt and shorts, Arthur ran for the lake disregarding the freezing water as he dived in.

Feeling around and straining his eyes trying to look into the murky waters Arthur found nothing. He came up for air before diving back down. This time he did see something down in the dark depths. Swiming down towards it he ignored the burning in his chest from lack of oxygen.

Water flooded into his mouth as he gasped when a hand grabbed his wrist. Bubbles came out of his mouth and the hand pulled him down deeper.

Arthur came face to face with the mysterious woman, pale hair floating around her head and eyes the same color as the water.

She still had one hand holding him down by the wrist, and in the other she held an eerily familiar sword. Thrusting it into his arms she released him and he blacked out just as he was somehow floating to the surface.

Air flooded into Arthur’s lungs as he coughed the water out and memories flooded into his head.

Memories of fire and death and Rome and knights and fighting and woads and Briton and of a pair of dark brown eyes.

Green eyes opened wide, head aching with memories from two lives trying to come together and fit into one head so everything would make sense.

And it hurt, not just the feeling that his brain was frying, but all the emotional pain from his other life cruelly twisting his chest. Curling into a ball he grabbed his head and screamed, “Oh God what’s happening?”

Finally after a few moments the pain subsided a little and everything became clear enough so Arthur could get up and see where he was.

He was lying on the grass right next to the lake and was fairly dry which proved he’d been lying there for quite a while. There was no sign of the woman but next to him lay excalibur.

Excalibur? Why do I know that swords name? He wondered but then realized that it is his sword, and before that it had been his father’s sword (or at least his first father’s sword).

“God what’s going on?” he muttered to himself then stopped and was shocked to realize he hadnt spoken in English but Latin. “This is fucked up.” He decided.

“I do suppose you would like an explanation.” Someone said behind him.

Spinning around Arthur saw the woman sitting behind him on a rock. She was carefully wringing the water out of her hair and smiled at him.

“Nimue,” he said, finally figuring out who she was.

The lady of the lake just laughed, “Oh Arthur I’m touched you remember me. Actually now a days I’ve been going by the name of Vivien.”

Arthur shot a look at her that would make normal people run away in terror, but Nimue was everything but normal. “Tell me what is going on here!” he growled, unsheathing excalibur.

She laughed, “Oh Arthur always the commander. You should know what’s happening, you’ve heard the legends.”

“There’s a lot of legends Nimue, some more foolish than the others.” he said wincing at some of the ridiculous stories he had heard as Arthur Pendragon.

“And some hold truth.” She then paused dramatically and Arthur rolled his eyes impatiently “It is said that King Arthur and his knights shall rise again to protect Briton in it’s time of need.”

Arthur just looked at her, “So has this happened to me before? I mean Britons been in peril many times before why now? And will this happen again in like a hundred years? And when to I have to go fight? Who...which knights?”

Lancelot Arthur thought, suddenly filled with hope, and the image of the familiar and much missed face flashed in his mind.

“No Arthur this hasnt happened before. This is different, this involves someone you’ve faced before, that is why you specifically are needed. And no I do not know who it is.” She said, answering Arthur’s question before he even asked it. “They don’t tell me much.” Nimue complained and Arthur didnt bother asking who they were. “And no, I’m pretty sure this is a one time thing. You do not have to fight now, I don’t know when this will happen, but you will know.” Then she paused and looked into his eyes knowing what the most important question was to him. “I do not know which of your knights will be returning to you Arthur, you have had many and I imagine only a select few will actually return.” Then she paused, feeling awful for what she was about to say but knowing he deserved to know the truth. “From what I’ve understood the knights that will be joining you would be who served under you when you were king.”

Arthur felt all hope leave him. Lancelot served as his knight when he was a commander, not king, he had died before he could do that.

Nimue saw the look on his face and got up, walked to him, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “But again Arthur I’m not told everything. You never know.”

“No, its okay it was foolish of me to bring my hopes up.” He pulled away and looked out across the lake.

“So this is where Bedivere threw the sword.” Arthur said quietly remembering his last words to the loyal Bedivere.

Nimue nodded, “It was by great chance that he chose the very same lake that your...first great grandfather ‘found’ the sword in”

Arthur nodded, remembering how his father had told him the story of how his great grandfather had said he was given excalibur by a lady in a lake (back then they all thought he was just embellishing his tale).

He remembered how Merlin had introduced Nimue to him and she told him she was the one who gave his great grandfather the sword. She also told him that when he died to return the sword to a lake. “Well I suppose I should be glad I listened to your advice.”

Nimue just nodded, “It made my life much easier instead of having to go around and search all the lakes in Britian.” She gazed out across the lake as well.

Arthur sighed tiredly, Well I guess this is what they mean by old soul. He laughed quietly to himself feeling so tired by the weight of all these memories making him feel so much older than his sixteen years, you are technically much older than sixteen I suppose, he told himself. “What do I do?”

Nimue looked at him sadly, “Try and live normally, keep up your fighting skills you will need them, but other than that just try and live. I’m sorry this had to happen now. Although whatever your needed for will not happen for a good amount of time we couldnt just ‘reawaken’ you and expect you to fight right away. We needed to give you time to prepare and get used to it, know I see that may have been a mistake. Don’t brood Arthur, and don’t do that to yourself again over him. I didnt know him but I do know he would want you to live.” While she was talking Nimue had wandered down to the bank.

“Oh,” she mumbled to herself, “I almost forgot.” He looked down at her and saw she was suddenly holding a long box. “You were buried with these, kept them with you always, I thought you may want to continue holding on to them.” She opened the box to reveal two identical twin swords, Lancelot’s. Arthur stared down at them, feeling his eyes begin to get wet. Placing excalibur on the ground he reached out and took the box.

“Thank you.” he whispered gently touching one of the swords.

She nodded, “I have to go, this human body I’m using, her nephew or something is coming to live with her it’d be a bad idea for him to walk in and find her in a trance.” She laughed at the idea. Then she stopped and said to him seriously, “Remember Arthur, live.”

Arthur just nodded numbly and turned his face up into the fading late afternoon, sun closing his eyes and gripping the box.

“I’ll see you again Arthur, you’ll know what to do when the time comes.” she tells him and then there is silence.

Arthur finally opens his eyes and sees that Nimue has vanished, leaving only a few ripples on the lake’s surface. Her words, remember to live, still echoed in his head. How could he be expected to live when he had no idea who he was anymore. No longer was he just Arthur Pendragon or just Arthur Castus, he was a mix of the two, all alone and full of grief.

The gardener, two maids, and one cook had seen Arthur return from his walk, haggard looking, hair a mess with leaves and twigs stuck in it, pale, limping, eyes empty, and carrying long box in one arm and a big broadsword in the other. Usually one to always greet the servants and be very friendly, Arthur just walked past everyone as if they weren’t there. If any of them thought this strange, which they defiantly did, no one said anything.

They didnt have to because eventually everyone noticed the change in Arthur after he had gotten back from the woods. He had always been a quiet and private person but now he was that to the extreme and spent much of his time alone thinking. Arthur remained cordial and friendly but he barely smiled or joked anymore. For the rest of the summer he either disappeared into the forest with that sword, locked himself in his room, or was in the library surrounded by piles and piles of books.

When school came around again he remained class president and the rugby captain. However he isolated himself and dropped most of his friends.

He buried himself in work as if he were trying to just forget something or someone. Nightmares had begun to plague him, some so violent that half the household would be awakened by his screams.

It had been half a year and Jonathon Pendragon had long given up trying to figure out his son’s problem on his own, Arthur had already been to five doctors. None knew what was happening, some called it post traumatic stress but no one knew what the cause of it could be. One or two suggested it was maybe something from a past life and that they hypnotize him, and they were right, but Jonathon just scoffed at the idea and fired them

Arthur knew what was wrong with him, but kept silent about it, dealing with it as best he can all by himself.

-------------------------------------

CHAPTER 1: Lancelot, Guinevere, and Tristan

A/N: Ok so just to explain Vivien she’s also Nimue but its like there split personalities, two people in the same body so Vivien may seem a little messed up talking to herself but really she’s talking and being talked to Nimue. Also none of the streets or places i talk about are actually real places in London its all made up.

Meanwhile: Somewhere in London,

“London,” The fifteen year old said to himself as he looked out the window of the taxi. He was going to miss Wales but London seemed okay. Much better than what he could remember of Russia.

Not to say he’d rather be here than in Wales. He would give anything to be back home and for his parents to be alive. To not have to come to London and go live with some distant aunt who didn’t even bother coming to the funeral.

Aunt Vivian, he had already been warned about her by his father. She lived in a rather bad part of London and claimed to be psycic, able to support herself because amazingly she kept a job at a local shop and had some mysterious side jobs. Despite her rumored lack of sanity, lack of funds, and abundance of drugs and occult related activities, he was being dumped on her because she was his only living relative left and those were all rumours....hopefully.

“Whats the address again kid?” The cab driver asked in a heavy Cockney accent.

“13 Lake street.” Lancelot read from the slip of paper he held.

The cabby turned around to look at him, “Why the hell you going there?”

He just looked back at the cabby and shrugged, “Live there now I guess.” The cabby turned around and murmured something about bad luck and no place for kids.

It certainly wasn’t, Lancelot saw when they pulled up to the building. The cabby helped him get out his luggage and waited to get paid but after that he went to his car and drove away as fast as possible.

The building was old and worn down, surrounded by many more old worn down buildings and trash filled streets. Inside was even worse. There was no elevator so he took two trips to bring all the bags up.

Finally getting to apartment 13 he knocked on the door, running a hand thru his hair, trying not to let he nerves get the better of him.

After a few moments of waiting the door opened to reveal a tall thin woman in an old blue dress. She looked young, maybe still in her twenties, and unnerving blue eyes and her hair was long and dyed the same blue as her eyes, with blonde roots showing.

“Ahhhh, so you were chosen! He will be happy, don’t you think?” she exclaimed to herself in a distant far away voice.

“Excuse me?”

“She knows you Lancelot.”

“Yes...okay. Your Vivien right, I’m your nephew.” Oh great a schitzo.

“Your time will come soon knight.” She grabbed some of his bags and walked back into her apartment. He picked up the rest of his bags and followed.

“There’s no reason to joke about my name.” Lancelot muttered thinking she was teasing him.

Despite dirt and some unfixed appliances, the apartment was ok. He was shown his room which, although small and damp, wasn’t as bad as he expected. Lancelot had always been low maintenance, as long s there was a bed, roof, food, and things to do he was fine.

2 years later:

“Ohhhh Arthur!” He couldn’t help but wince as his step mother’s piercing voice assaulted his eardrums “There’s someone here you just must meet.” Arthur winced again as he realized that his stepmother was as usual trying to set him up with someone.

His stepmother found him where he always was during the Pendragon’s extravagant dinner parties, hiding out at the fringe of everything. The only reason he went to them anymore was because of his politeness and the need to try and make things up to his father for being so distant.

She quickly strode toward him before he could run away, trailed by a girl who looked a bit younger than him.

“Arthur there you are sweetie, you just must meet George Leodegrance’s daughter.” She said pushing the girl foward. “Arthur this is Guinevere.”

But he already knew who she was, his eyes widened in shock. There before him stood Guinevere, younger than he remembered her, but the same long brown hair and beautiful face. She looked out of place in a long yellow dress, yet again he still thought he looked out of place whenever he looked in the mirror.

“Hello.” She said sweetly, eyes checking him out.

Well her boldness hasnt changed. Arthur thought grinning to himself. However the grin left his face when he remembered what she had done.

“Well,” Guinevere said, “Arent you going to ask me to dance?” He looked over to his stepmother whose eyes were pleading him to do it.

Arthur just shook his head, “I don’t dance,” which was an absolute lie, he was forced to take lessons since he was six. “Please excuse me I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” he apologized and nodded to both of them and fled quickly before they could stop him.

Once safely in his room he removed his jacket, tie, shirt and shoes. Falling back onto the bed he sighed in frustration. The last two years had been hard.

Arthur had changed, and although he knew he had very good reasons, no one else could figure out what had happened. He had literally changed over night.

He didn’t mind his secluding himself, it gave him time to think, keep up his sword skills, read, and not feel so uncomfortable.

Arthur found himself no longer able to relate to his parents or any of his friends anymore. Sure there was that one part of him, the Arthur Pendragon part who had sixteen years worth of memory in his head. But that part wasnt as dominating as his memories as Arthur Castus.

It was probably because that life was longer and full of so much pain and emotion and love. The mix of the two lives pushed him into reclusiveness. He now found shelter in books, history, sports, and hard work: gardening, carpentry, anything he got the chance to do. The more he did the more he was able to forget all the pain and forget his old friends and forget Lancelot.

He may not have the happiest of lives but he got along, the knowledge that he would eventually be needed for something important helped.

But what was he to do with Guinevere? He loathed her, one half wanting to kill her and the other half saying no that’s not what we do now a days. There was no reason why his stepmother should be trying to set him up, the few times he did go out with friends he always find girls that he even dated them for a short time. He didn’t need to be set up, especially with her.

Meanwhile:

“Viv! I’m going out don’t burn the place down!” Lancelot yelled from the doorway eager to get out. Vivien was lighting 'insesnce' again and chanting in an attempt to enhance her prophetic prowess. He didn’t mind the chanting, drugs, or even the fact that she was trying to perform magic he was used to all that. Lancelot just had to get out before his 'incense' provoked headache split his head open.

To most people taking a walk in this part of town just as the sun was setting was a very bad idea. Lancelot however wasn’t afraid of anything, not always a positive attribute. He had already gotten into a few scuffles out in the street and came out okay. Defending himself was never a problem, he knew how to fight.

Walking down the cobblestone street, trying to avoid the dirty puddles, homeless people, and garbage, he watched as people walked home from work and little shops began to close down. He really did love this place, despite its dirtiness, and crime rate, and poverty, it sort of grew on him.

Then again he never was all that picky about where he lived. As long as he never got bored, and between living with Vivien and living here he never did.

“No!” His head turned across the street to where a woman was fighting with a kid over her purse. Cursing he looked around to find any cops, and of course as usual there were none. The kid was just some punk off the street who probably needed a few bucks, and the woman looked like some local housewife who probably couldn’t afford losing those few bucks.

The kid managed to push the lady off and start running away with the purse, passing Lancelot. Without really thinking of the consequences Lancelot took off after the kid.

He followed the kid two blocks, through an alley and over a fence. Although he’d gotten a good head start Lancelot was in much better shape than the kid and caught up with him, tackling him down to the ground.

Just as Lancelot was drawing his arm back to punch the kid in the face, a big meaty hand caught his elbow and pulled him up to his feet, throwing him back away from the kid.

He found himself surrounded by five kids a little older than him. “Give me the purse.”

The big kid and obviously the leader laughed as another one helped the kid Lancelot chased to his feet. “And what the hell you gonna do if we don’t?”

Lancelot looked around, sizing everyone up. The big one and some other guy with a baseball bat looked like the only real big threats. No one was reaching for this waists so it didn’t look like anyone was carrying guns, these guys were all show.

“I’m going to make you run home to your mums.” Lancelot said with a grin.

All six of them laughed. They didn’t notice that Lancelot was slowly inching closer to the purse which he could now easily grab and make a run for it.

He was just about to do that when a weasly looking kid spoke up, “I know you, you live with that psycho bitch who can tell the future.” All six laughed again.

“Heard she’s a whore, they any fun?” Another one said.

Lancelot froze and his eyes darkened with rage, no way in hell was he going to let this go now, “Don’t know, why don’t you ask your pop? I mean he must be doing your mum.”

“Bastard.” The kid lunged at him but Lancelot sidestepped and elbowed him into the ground.

That’s when the rest of them all started towards him and Lancelot realized he’d done it again. Done something without thinking, taking on six punks, most armed with baseball bats, while unarmed.

Ducking a punch he tripped the kid and knocked him into a wall, then struck another square in the face only to be caught in the ribs by what felt like a baseball bat. Whoever did that got a punch in the eye but then so did he right after that. He was holding his own at the moment but he didn’t know how long he could last.

Suddenly the big one with the baseball bat was forced against the wall by a knife which pinned his shirt against the wall. Everyone stopped of a second to look over at the knife thrower, a new comer who was a stranger to them all. He was a little taller than Lancelot and possibly the sameage but no one could tell for sure because his dark long hair covered most of his face. Lancelot felt an odd shiver run down his spine as he got the distinct impression he somehow knew this guy, even though he was certain he’d never met him before.

Half hidden eyes scanned the scene before him and he shifted preparing himself for a fight. One of the kids launched himself at the new kid and Lancelot grinned as he quickly hit the ground. Between the two of them the rest of the boys had either given up or joined their friends on the ground in a few minutes flat.

“Thanks.” Lancelot said as he bent down a picked up the purse.

The other boy just nodded, “Like to fight.” he said brushing off his long worn out brown trenchcoat.

“I’m Lancelot.”

“Tristan.”

“You live around here?”

Tristan pointed down the street.

“Oh so do I. I’ll walk with you if your heading home. I gotta get a move on, return this purse to, 17 Ludenwic Avenue.” He read off the wallet in the purse. “Then get home before my aunt burns the apartment down.”

He just raised an eyebrow and followed Lancelot as he made his way down the street.

Lancelot raised his eyebrow, “Your not a real talker are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s ok,” he shrugged. “It evens things out ya know, I tend to talk too much.”

“Really I hadn’t noticed.”

Lancelot laughed. “Well this is it.” He said nodding up at the building. “I have to return the purse, you don’t have to wait.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Lancelot laughed. “Stop by sometimes, 13 Lake street, I owe you for saving my arse.” He said waving goodbye.

Tristan just nodded and walked away.

“Weird guy.” Lancelot muttered to himself but decided he liked him anyway.

One week later:

Lancelot was alone in their apartment making lunch, Viv had gone to work. There was a knock at the door and he looked towards it warily not expecting anyone.

He looked thru the peephole and saw Tristan standing there waiting to be let in. Lancelot grinned, so this Tristan guy had taken up his offer.

Tristan looked up at him as the door opened and said hello. Lancelot returned the greeting, “So you want lunch?” The other shrugged which Lancleot took as a yes so he stood aside and ushered Tristan in. “The pastas almost done.”

“You cook?” Tristan asked from his seat next to the open window.

“Yeah, I kinda had to learn when I moved here. Viv, well lets just say she should stick to telling the future.” He grimaced at the thought of his aunt’s cooking. Then he turned his attention back to his pasta which was almost done. When he looked up again to put it into two waiting bowls he noticed Tristan wasnt alone.

Tristan looked up and saw Lancelot gawking and just shrugged indifferently.

“There’s a hawk on your hand, in the middle of London, in my apartment.”

“Congratulations, you can see.” Tristan drawled petting his hawk’s head.

“I’m not even going to ask.”

The hawk chirped and Lancelot handed Tristan his bowl, “I’m going to assume that’s a rare thing for you. By the way you have any apples?”

Lancelot just laughed and threw him an apple from the fridge, “This looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” he teased and Tristan snorted into his apple.

Two year and a half years later...

Lancelot walked down the street feeling better than he had in a while. Maybe it was because he had finally quit trying to be a cop.

Sure it was exciting and everything, but there were just too many rules and restrictions for him to handle. Plus he hated having a boss. The only problem was that now he didnt have a source of income, but he'd think of something.

At the moment he had decided to push all worries about what he was going to do next out of his head, at that moment he was free. Looking out at the street to his left he jumped up when he realized Tristan had silently apperead beside him.

“Christ Tristan!”

His silent friend just shook his head, “Youd think that after all this time we’ve known each other and youd be use to this.”

Lancelot just shook his head and muttered something about creepy animal loving weirdos. Glaring at Tristan again he realized something was different. “Tristan...” he began, devoid of any words (something only Tristan was able to do to Lancelot).

“What?” he got as an annoyed reply.

“When, why, and where did you get those thingies on your face?” The shorter man sputtered to his friend pointing wildly at the marks that now decorated Tristan’s cheekbones.

Tristan shrugged “This morning...I kind of just felt like it.” he said unapologetically.

“They permanent?”

He nodded.

Lancelot just continued staring, “First the bird, then the apple obsession thing, then the random animals, the creepy silent thing, and now this...Tristan you disturb me.”

Tristan shrugged and they kept on walking.

Six months later:

“Lancelot what are we doing?” Tristan’s patience was wearing thin.

“You’ll see.” Lancelot said leading his friend down the street. Finally they stopped in front of a small apartment building.

Tristan just looked at him, “This is what you wanted to show me?”

The other young man nodded his head exuberantly, dark curls bouncing.

“Well, I hope you know I have seen apartment buildings before.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes, “Yes but have you seen apartment buildings owned by me before?”

Tristan could find no snide response to what he had just learned, he only stared at Lancelot. Who was of course grinning at the fact that he had for the first time in the years they’ve known one another managed to shock Tristan.

“Your on drugs.”

Lancelot’s eyebrows shot upward, “Pardon?”

“You just bought an apartment building! Why the hell did you? Where’d you get the money?”

For a second he was rendered speechless by one of Tristan’s rare outbursts (he prided himself in being the only person who could incite one) but he quickly recovered. “I’m becoming a private detective.” At his friends questioning look her continued. “See I like the whole action, chase down the bad guys guns blazing thing, but being a cop meant I had a boss. This way I am the boss, no rules, my own hours. So I decided to do this, and I needed a place. This is perfect! Plus money isnt a problem, I got a hell of a lot from my trust fund when I turned eighteen, I’ve been saving it.” He gestured towards the building. “We can live in it and have the agency. Plus it was cheap, no one wants to live in this part of the city anymore so who would want an apartment building?” Looking at Tristan he deflated a little when he got no response, “So...” he urged.

“So what?” Tristan didnt miss the whole ‘we’ thing.

“Wanna be my partner? Place to live, income, you can fight and be creepy and get paid for it.”

Tristan considered it, “Ok, but on one condition.” A wicked grin appeared on his face and Lancelot almost regretted asking him to join.

“Anything.”

“I get to name it.”

“Fine,” What’s the worse he can do? Lancelot reassured himself, expecting much worse.

“Camelot Investigation, to pay tribute to your very unique name.”

Lancelot blanched, Tristan knew his name was a sore subject. "Bastard." He mumbled then finally answered Tristan, “Fine, you better be damn good at this job.” He said giving Tristan the finger when he started to laugh.

Tbc...

A/N: So the next chapter or so will be Lancelot and Tristan meeting and hiring the others. Don’t worry Arthur will be coming back soon enough.