Summary: Detective Chief Inspector Arthur Pendragon forms an interesting relationship with Guinevere Leodegrance, the one that got away. BBC Luther inspired.

Author's Note: So if you're familiar with my drabble/one-shot series Across the Universe and Him and Her then you've read the original of this and its two additional drabbles. I really enjoyed writing those and got such positive feedback on the additional parts (Invitations and Open Doors/Drinking Buddy in Him and Her), so I wanted to do another drabbley/one-shot dump for this Luther inspired AU.

The next two chapters will go up fairly quick. I just have to edit them. So yeah. Enjoy! (and enjoy again if you're rereading :D)

The Taste of Freedom

DCI Arthur Pendragon entered his flat and froze in the doorway. Something was off; he could feel it—smell it—in the air. Something…sweet. He shut the door quietly, drew his gun, and ventured in.

Clink.

It came from the kitchen.

He peered around the corner and sighed, putting the gun away before entering. "Guinevere."

Guinevere Leodegrance was in his flat, in his kitchen, at his table, drinking his tea out of his mug. "Arthur," she said pleasantly. "Welcome home. How was your day?"

He kept his distance. "You do realize this is breaking and entering."

"I only entered. Nothing was broken, I promise you." Her smile was bright and innocent. "You look like you've had a long day. Please, have a seat. Stay a while." That twinkle in her eye unnerved him. "Tea?"

Guinevere Leodegrance was in his flat, in his kitchen, offering him his own tea.

Shit.

X

Two weeks ago…

Arthur entered the interrogation room, turned on the recorder, and sat across from the curly haired beauty. "Sorry for the wait, Mrs. Maynard. I'm DCI Arthur Pendragon. I hope you aren't too uncomfortable, these rooms are never pleasurable. I'm sure you understand why."

"I guess I'm not Mrs. Maynard any longer, huh?" she said quietly.

"Guinevere—"

"Please, call me Gwen."

"If you would prefer."

"Though, you do say it quite nicely." She smiled sadly. "I don't think anyone has ever said my name with such…care."

Arthur wasn't sure how to react to that. All he did was say her name in the tone he used when he addressed a suspect in a seemingly fragile state. "You are a suspect in your husband's death, Guinevere. I have to ask you a few questions."

She looked tired. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were dry. Too dry.

"According to your statement, you received a call from one of your husband's associates…"

She was spending time in the country, away from the dirty secrets of the city's underground, away from him. Her phone rang and she answered.

"Where's my package?" The gravelly voice asked.

"Sorry?"

"Helios ain't answerin'. I swear—if he's—"

"I don't know, Cendred. I'm out of town. I'll get back to you as soon as I can." She didn't wait for him to speak again before she hung up.

By the time she got home it was late in the evening. "Babe? You here?" When she entered the kitchen, Helios was lying on the floor among the shattered remains of his mug, tea everywhere. Vomit surrounded his head, and scratch marks were etched in his throat.

"Did your husband have enemies, Guinevere?"

She shrugged. "Of course he did."

"Did he ever hurt you?"

Her eyes hardened. "Not as often as you'd think a man like him would. He used to call me his prized possession."

"No woman should be called a possession," Arthur said. "When did you find out your husband was a sex trafficker?"

"Stop calling him that."

"What? Your husband?" He saw her lip twitch. She was biting back a sneer. "You don't sound like you have much love for him."

"Would you if you found out your significant other sold teenage girls into sexual slavery?!" She leaned forward, folding her hands on the table. "What if your girlfriend," she scrutinized him quickly, "or boyfriend, destroyed these poor girls?" She slid back, exhausted. "I found out after the first year of our marriage. We traveled a lot, but I never questioned it because Helios was a rich man. One night in Mexico, I came back to the hotel early. I overheard him talking to his partners. He was naming names and prices. Not thinking, I walked in and a saw an open folder on his desk. It was full of pictures of girls. I put two and two together. He threatened me. He got me…involved." She was beginning to show emotion, he noted, as her eyes watered and her voice shook. "I tried to leave. He wouldn't let me." The tears began to fall. "An angry wife. That's what my motive is, right?"

Arthur gave her a minute before continuing his interrogation. "Toxicology report showed Helios' tea was laced with belladonna, deadly nightshade." He flipped through the report and showed her the picture of the scene. She didn't flinch. "They say poison is a woman's weapon."

Gwen wiped her face and her eyes narrowed in a glare. "While I was out of the city, my husband had cuppa that I poisoned."

"Is that a confession?"

"I'm just laying out what I'm being accused of."

"You're a smart woman, Guinevere."

"Not smart enough," she snorted in disgust.

She did it, he knew, but she was let go on the grounds that she couldn't be placed at the scene, and there was nothing to trace the poison back to her. All the tea in the house had been examined and the house was thoroughly search. On top of that, any time a man like Helios was off the streets, it's considered a victory. But Arthur's job was to catch murderers, and he was forced to let one go.

He was the youngest chief inspector in the department. He wouldn't deny that his name got him where he was. When your father is Director General of MI5, it gets you through many doors. Arthur worked hard to prove that a name was just a name and that his detective skills were valuable. He did so by having a perfect track record until Guinevere came into the picture.

Unable to let it go, days later Arthur tracked Gwen down to a dance studio. He watched her from the doorway moving gracefully to the music. She was short, but the way she extended her limbs made her legs seem miles long and her arms closer to the heavens when she reached. The way she arched and released, the way she turned and leaped; she danced with abandon. She danced with freedom.

The song ended and she lifted her head, looking at him in the mirror. "He used to watch me dance, so I stopped."

"If all women danced like that when they got away with murder it would make a spectacular show."

She scoffed. "You still think I killed him."

"Not with your bare hands. You just mixed the belladonna with the tea leaves and let the rest fall into play." He saw her roll her eyes in the reflection. "Leodegrance. You changed your name back. So soon?"

She gathered her things and walked passed him. "I just want to get my life back in order."

He watched her now with suspicion as she poured him the tea. "Relax, Arthur. It's not my special blend." To prove her point, she took a sip. Her lipstick left a print of her lower lip on the edge of the mug.

Never in his life has he heard a woman say his name like she did. "What do you want?"

Gwen held the mug out to him. "I don't have any friends." Well, that was honest.

He accepted the tea, but didn't drink it. "You committed an offense because you want to be my friend?"

"No, I don't want to be your friend. And like I said, I didn't break anything," she smirked. "This is for you." She took a folded paper out of her pocket and slid it to the center of the table.

He took it while keeping his eyes on her. They held each other's gaze while he unfolded it. Finally, his eyes flashed down. It was a list of names.

Cenred Essetir, Kanen Siddig, Julius Borden. The list went on. "What's this?"

"A list," she said smartly.

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from making a snide comeback. "For what?"

"They're all of Helios' associates. I know human trafficking isn't your division, but if you could pass it on to, I don't know, you're father in the MI6, you'll be saving a lot of lives." She made her way to the sink and cleaned the mug she used…and the rest of his dishes.

He was at a loss for words seeing her to the washing up. "Uh…you don't have to do that." He frowned. "And it's MI5," he muttered.

"Do what?" She looked at him over her shoulder. "Clean up after a man? I guess I don't have to anymore."

He looked back down at the list. "You could've just come to the station instead of—"

"Breaking and entering," she finished his sentence. She dried her hands and turned around, leaning back on the counter. Her hands gripped the edge. "You didn't touch your tea."

Arthur stared down at the cooling liquid, and then back to her. He picked it up and watched her watch him as he brought it to his lips.

"It's late. I guess I should be going," Gwen said, but she didn't move.

He swallowed the apparently not poisoned tea. "Well, off you go."

"They'll be coming for me."

He thought he heard worry in her voice. "Who?"

"Helios' friends." She looked at him sweetly. "Drive me home?"

It was raining, and Gwen traced the trail of raindrops on the window with her finger. "I let the latest group of girls go," she said. "That's why I was in the country side. I brought them to a women's shelter."

"Good." Arthur gripped the steering wheel. He had a murderer in his car. He had the world's sweetest murderer in his car. He concentrated on the road, but he felt her turn and look at him.

"It's upsets you that I got away with it," she stated. He didn't like that she could read him so easily. "I may have orchestrated his death without getting blood on my hands, but murder is murder, and it's your job to put murderers away. But I'm the one that got away."

He let out a bitter laugh. "Do you want to say that again, but at the station?"

They turned down her street. It was an expensive neighborhood, and her house was near the end. The houses were nearly identical. The only thing that separated hers from the others was the three men lurking outside of it.

Gwen press back low into the seat. She brought her arm up, resting her elbow on the window ledge to hide her face with her forearm. She shut her eyes, waiting for what may come. When they got closer, the men barely reacted to the headlights. They just acted like they were three men having a chat in the rain. Arthur stared them down, and they stared back, concentrating purely on him.

Gwen opened her eyes when she felt the car turn the corner. She sat up and looked relieved. "Thank—"

Arthur was tired and frustrated. "Don't thank me," he said and drove her to a hotel.

It wasn't long before Arthur saw Gwen again, this time by accident. He was on a case. Prostitutes were turning up dead; he was dealing with a modern Jack the Ripper. The call came in from a rundown estate in a known problematic area. It could've been a domestic violence call, but back up was on standby. He took the elevator up to the floor, and when it opened he heard screaming from down the hall. He found the room it was coming from and busted in. There was shuffling, crashes, muffled grunts and curses coming from the bedroom. He saw a woman in her underwear tied to the bed, and Gwen slowly sitting up from the floor with blood dripping from her hairline before he was tackled to the floor. He dropped his gun, and the killer tried to pummel his face. The man was the size of a house, and all Arthur could do was block his strikes. The blows stopped and he saw the killer hold up a knife.

Bang!

The killer's eyes bulged and his body jiggled with the shock.

Bang!

The killer coughed and he dropped the knife.

Bang!

The bullet ripped through his throat and blood splattered on Arthur's face. Arthur pushed him over and sat up. The killer was laying face down like a fat, fleshy blob. The bullet holes lined straight up his spine. Three perfect shots.

Gwen lowered the gun and rushed to the girl, untying her. The prostitute launched herself in Gwen's arms, sobbing. Arthur took off his jacket and gave it to Gwen to place on around the girl. Sirens were heard in the distance.

"Dare I ask why you were there?" He asked her.

"The girl, her name is Sefa. She's one of the girls who…I keep trying to get her out of it but she's too scared of what her pimp will do to her if she tries. I check up on her every now and then. He was a client, I guess. When I got there, he answered the door, dragged me in and tied me up. Poorly, I might add."

"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

The corner of her red lips turned up. "Care for a lesson?"

Arthur lied in his report. He said the killer was on top of Gwen and he shot him. Thankfully he wiped the blood from his face before the cops entered the flat. The lie was effortless. Protecting Gwen felt second nature. It surprised him.

"I never thanked you," he said.

"You never thanked me for…?" Killing a killer. Saving your life. Gwen raised an eyebrow in faux confusion. She was quick and he liked it.

The third time they met that month was because Arthur, against his better judgment, invited Gwen out for coffee. "Not tea?" she joked over the phone. Her laugh was lovely over the phone, but he would kill to hear her do it in person.

They sat a table next to the window. They people watched, speculating which ones that passed were capable of committing murder. It was morbid, but they were having…fun.

"Is this even appropriate, seeing a former murder suspect?" Gwen asked.

"Not really," Arthur said. "And I'm not seeing you. This isn't a date."

"No? But you paid for my coffee." She waved the paper cup at him.

The lipstick print on the lid reminded him of the one she left on his mug. "Chivalry is not entirely dead." Under the table, he felt her give him a light, playful kick. "Assaulting an officer of the law now?"

And there it was, that melodious laughter. She held the coffee up to her lips and smiled. "Free does taste better."

A/N: I don't have a planned ending/actual storyline for this, so please add in suggestions for situations/shenanigans you want Arthur and Gwen to get in. This story is more focused on friendship so do not suggest romantic situations. I want them to have the Luther-Alice dynamic wiiiiiith a little more flirt. Because let's face it, Alice is more scary than flirty XD

Thanks for reading! I look forward to your suggestions!