CONTENT WARNING: Mention of needles, vague reference to amputation.
"So I was thinking, maybe we could set up a website," Arthur mused, fingers tapping away at his laptop. The rain outside showered against the roof in a light drone. "Flagging for key terms or something. That way it'd be much easier for Vivi to find new tip-offs."
"Oh, she'd love that," Lewis said appreciatively, whisking whatever it was he held in the white bowl. "I'd come and help you if I didn't have my hands full."
"Mhm," Arthur said skeptically, thinking of his too-big fingers struggling with his laptop keys. "You say that like baking for you is a treat. As if you don't do it all the time."
"Ah well," Lewis winked, "You need a little extra, flaquito."
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Lewis set the bowl down, wiped his hands on his apron and started forward.
Arthur jumped up before him. "Hands full, my ass!"
Lewis only laughed in surprise. "I thought you were busy with the technical stuff? Are you expecting someone?"
"More like I can't have you tarnish our good name turning up at the door with a pink Kiss the Cook apron," he teased back, turning for the door. "Even if it is in Spanish."
"Mami gave it to me," Lewis said, defensively. "She altered it herself! You know how hard it is to find clothes in my size!"
"Sure, sure," Arthur snickered, hastening down the hall in front of him. He opened the door to a bedraggled Vivi, standing impatiently in the rain.
"What took you so long!" she cried, and bustled in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. He flushed pleasantly.
As she kicked off her shoes, dripping onto the carpet, he noticed that she was very obviously hiding something big and angular under her sweater.
"What's that you've got?"
She immediately perked up and pulled the thing out—a thick battered tome.
"I was protecting it from the rain," she explained at his inquiring look. "I just found it today at the Tomb! Look at this thing!" She opened it, flipping through hundreds of yellowed pages, eyes glittering with excitement. "It's got, like, everything in here! Ciphers, spells, guides, maps. . ."
. . . She looked beautiful like that.
"Vee!"
She turned around at Lewis' voice and flashed him a huge grin. "Lew-Lew! Look at this book I found today!"
She dumped it in his capable hands and he flipped through it slowly, eyes scanning the pages. "Wow, Vivi. . . this is amazing! Where'd you get it?"
"Tome Tomb," she replied smugly. "It came in a shipment of weird books. Duet looked through them and sent them back—said they got the wrong address—but not before I fished this out!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that. . . stealing?"
"Well, I mean, yeah . . . but half the stuff we do is already illegal."
"Um, I object," Arthur cut in.
She turned around and stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, half the time you hide behind Mystery and don't do anything, anyway."
Arthur couldn't help feeling hurt. He scuffed his feet, eyes flicking back to the table, and then lit up when they settled on his laptop. "Oh, Vivi! I was thinking, I could rig up something for you—a website or something. It'd make it much easier for you to track down busts—"
He turned to her but she wasn't listening. She was smiling up at Lewis with the book in her hands. "You like it, don't you?"
"I do. Great find, Vivi," Lewis smiled, and leaned down to kiss her. She happily threw her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to reach.
Arthur tore his eyes away and plodded into the kitchen to wait for them.
Half an hour later Lewis served dinner for two, with Vivi plopping down on the couch with her takeaway noodles. Arthur was aghast.
"You're turning down Lewis's cooking for that?"
Lewis only laughed. "It's okay, Arthur. There's always leftovers."
"Mhm," Vivi agreed from the couch, anchored in front of some supernatural program. Arthur understood that she had Lewis' food a lot—they both did—but he couldn't imagine for the life of him ever turning it down or, god forbid, getting sick of it.
Shaking his head, he focussed on the plate in front of him. Picking up his fork, he prodded it curiously. "So . . . what's this?"
"Jambalaya," Lewis answered, not touching his. Instead, he elected to prop an elbow on the table and lean his head against his hand, eyes on Arthur.
"What's that, Cajun?" he asked, scooping some into his mouth.
"Creole," Lewis corrected. "Thought I'd try something different, this time."
Arthur's eyes popped as the flavour hit him. "Holy shit, Lewis, this is amazing!" He chewed for a bit, placing a familiar taste. "Are there oysters in this??"
Lewis smiled, eyes crinkling. "Yeah . . . they're not really popular in Creole cuisine but since you like them so much, I thought I'd experiment."
"Well, it really paid off," Arthur replied, shovelling more into his mouth and hollering at Vivi. "You haff no idea what you're mishing," he garbled through a mouth full of food.
"I'll try it tomorrow!" she called back, waving him off as she refocussed on the program.
Again, Arthur shook his head, giving Lewis a pointed look. "Well, I think it's delicious."
"I'm glad," his friend said, soft eyes still fixed on him, food untouched.
○ ○ ○
"Hi Lew-Lew!"
Vivi swung through the door to the Pepper Paradiso, barely affording Arthur a glance. Instead, she ran right past him and into his best friend's arms. Arthur tried to tune out the giggles.
"And what's got you so excited?"
"I found a bust! Apparently the Texas-Mexico border is a supernatural hotspot. You would not believe the stuff I've read! Ghosts, yokai, chupacabras—"
Arthur spun around. "Vivi, no way. Not those dog things."
She brushed him off. "Chaneques too! They pull the souls right outta peoples' bodies!"
Lewis sighed fondly. "They scare them, Vivi. Scare the souls."
"That's right! And there's this cave, Ojos. . . Ojos Sabi-ose?"
"Ojos Sabios?" Lewis mulled. "That means 'wise eyes'."
"Yeah!" she motormouthed. "It only appears for people if they're looking for it, or if it wants something from them—"
"Can we please talk about this?" Arthur cut in. "I don't want to go disturbing ancient Mayan spirits. That sounds dangerous."
"These will be Aztec," Vivi replied. "Not nearly as dangerous."
"Still!" he fought. "I don't feel comfortable with—"
"C'mon, Artie, we'll protect you." Lewis flashed him a dazzling smile. The words died in his throat.
"We can't miss out on an opportunity like this," Vivi pushed. "It would really put us on the map! We could open commissions, earn money. . . upgrade equipment. . ." She looked back at him with puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeeaaasee?"
Arthur gauged her uncertainly, raising his eyes to Lewis for support.
Instead, he was met with that heart-melting smile.
He faltered. "O. . .Okay. But. . . please, let's just be careful."
○ ○ ○
Five hours of driving filled with chatter in the front.
Arthur had been lumped in the back.
"Because we know how drained you get on long road trips," Vivi had supplied, but Arthur knew it was because they had wanted to sit in the front together. And that hurt. They'd probably dump him off somewhere if they could get away with it—
No, he couldn't think like that. They cared about him. They were his friends. And they'd listen to him if he had any problems.
. . . Wouldn't they?
"Well, I mean, yeah . . . but half the stuff we do is already illegal."
"Half the time you hide behind Mystery and don't do anything, anyway."
"Great find, Vivi."
"These will be Aztec. Not nearly as dangerous."
"C'mon, Artie, we'll protect you."
"We can't miss out on an opportunity like this!"
"Because we know you get drained on long road trips."
His stomach sank.
The van began to slow.
"Alright Skulls, we're almost there," came Lewis' voice from the front. "About a mile to go."
"And then we'll be going deep inside Ojos Sabios!" Vivi said excitedly.
Helplessly, Arthur gazed out the window. No, they wouldn't listen to him.
A toxic anger simmered away in his stomach. They never did.
○ ○ ○
. . . . .
Arthur was being shaken and he didn't know why. Was it time to get up? Did he sleep in? He thought he heard his phone buzzing too—he reached out his arm lazily, feeling around for his phone, but nothing happened. He couldn't feel most of his arm, or his fingers. But he could feel sticky stuff all over him, and then he was hit with a blinding pain.
Gasping, he reached for the burning shoulder and cried out when the touch sent daggers through his nerves. Why did they do this? He knew something bad would happen! He took a deep breath, and rolled his head to the side to survey the damage—
His eyes popped.
His arm. It was gone.
His thoughts spun wildly. How had this happened? What had he done? They had been on a job, right? Looking around for a cave. They had all been together. Then why was he alone? Where was Lewis? Where was Vivi?
"Arthur?"
Vivi?
"Arthur!"
Vivi! Vivi was there, and she was going to help him!
"Arthur! Please, we need to go! We need to get you to the hospital!"
Hospital. Yes—painkillers, bandages, safety. Arthur cracked open his eyes, and slowly sat up, groaning. He tried to blink through the blinding headache and blurring tears. He reached up his hand to wipe them away—
Nope. No hand. He crushed the reeling thoughts down and tried not to panic. He had to get up. He needed to get to the hospital—maybe they could reattach his arm. Where was that arm?
"Arthur! Come on!"
A hazy figure was waving something at him—what was that? Arthur squinted. A blue balloon? A ribbon? Oh. An arm.
Arthur grabbed Vivi's arm and hoisted himself upwards, weaving on his feet as his vision almost whited out. His head spun—maybe he should sit back down.
Something looped itself around his torso and under his arms—arm, keeping him steady. "Come on, Artie. We can do this. It's only a few steps to the van."
The van? Oh, yes, they had a van! Only a few steps. . . Wait. Lewis.
"LEWIS!" he yelled, trying to turn back. Vivi's grip was firm even as he struggled.
"Arthur, no. We need to go."
"Lewis—"
"Arthur, we don't have TIME!" she cried desperately. "Us first, Lewis later! We can't go looking for him like this!"
There was something in her voice and when he looked at her, he could see her eyes were wide and wet. "Please," she insisted, a tear dribbling down her cheek. After throwing one last glance over his shoulder he clenched his jaw and nodded.
With Vivi holding him up and Mystery dragging them along, it was a relatively quick stagger to the car before he was flopped onto the front seat and the vehicle started humming. The agony came back and hit hard.
Arthur cried out in pain. How much blood had he lost? Was he going to die? His breathing became loud and quick in his ears.
"Mystery! Please, calm him down! It's only a few minutes to the hospital but we can't let him get hysterical! Jesus, he's losing so much blood . . . Oh, god, fuck, fuck, fuck. . ." The car stopped and Vivi took off her scarf and wrapped it around his bleeding stump—and only then was Arthur aware of the weight on his chest. He blinked up at the hazy figure, making out a white face, spiky hair, and yellow spectacles—
"Mystery?" Arthur moaned. The dog whined, huddling onto his chest and licking his face. He blinked at the dog in disbelief. "Were you with. . . Did you find me. . .?" He couldn't finish his sentence before his head began spinning again.
The next few hours were a blur. They arrived at the hospital and he was immediately shoved into a bed and rolled through white corridors and pushed through swinging doors. A doctor slid a needle into his wrist and his head grew hazy; he strained to make sense of the snippets of conversation that broke through the blur. Critical condition . . . hysteria. Blood loss . . . emergency surgery. Fluids . . . gas. Eight hours.
When Arthur finally woke up he was questioned. Neither he nor Vivi could remember anything significant of that night. They could remember before and after, but that was it. The nurses had said it had been shock. When the first responders had come to brief them in the hospital, they had told them Lewis was dead. Arthur hadn't wanted to believe it—that meant they had left him.
Foul play had been ruled out as there had been no evidence of anyone else entering or exiting the site. The investigators had decided the most likely cause an accident: Lewis had tripped, he had been running and hadn't seen the ledge. But that wasn't like Lewis. He was always so methodical, so careful. Things hadn't seemed right.
Despite Arthur's pleas to go back and search, the authorities wouldn't let anyone else near the site. They told him that after removing the body they'd cordoned off the area from the public. Arthur had insisted on seeing him—he had to be alive, he had to be—but they'd held him back. The first and last time he got to see his friend after that night was at the funeral a week later, and when he did, though he looked as clean and whole as ever, he fell to his knees and threw up in shock.
When Arthur finally completed the drug therapy and was cleared to go home, he locked himself in his room for days and didn't come out to eat. He barely got any sleep, and the sleep he did get was plagued with twisted images—images that he didn't remember, but terrified him still.
He missed Lewis; everything about him. And he missed Vivi's lovestruck bubbliness. It hadn't been that bad, really. He had just been selfish—they had been happy together. That didn't mean they hadn't still cared about him.
By the time he pulled himself together and came out, smiling at Vivi and putting some bread in the toaster for them, he didn't really know much, but he knew that he—and the remaining Mystery Skulls—were never going to be the same again.
Not without Lewis. Together, they were a puzzle. And without that piece, they could never be whole. He certainly couldn't be.
Translations:
flaquito — flaco is a term of endearment meaning "skinny", and the diminutive -ito is an extra descriptor for small size and/or cuteness. The "c" must change to a "qu" when vowels follow. Lewis is effectively calling Arthur a tiny skinny :)