When Arthur's eyes opened fully they were unfocused. Distant. He said nothing about the vanishing act, he only rose to his feet and stumbled down the path. Kay grabbed his arm, but he dragged her along without looking back.
The signs were painfully familiar to Kay. "Arthur, wait. We need to talk."
He stopped right there but his upper body arched forward and his fingers twitched. A low whine escaped him.
Kay circled around, taking his face in her hands and tilting it down. His eyes darted everywhere, never settling. "Arthur, Gareth gave you an order. What do you think you need to do right now?"
"Have to go. Have to run now," Arthur panted, tilting ever forward. "Tell Mother. Have to get to Mother. Tell her Gareth didn't mean it. Have to go! Please let go!"
"Listen to me, Arthur." She drew her syllables out slowly. Calm tones. Gentle words. "We have time. You do not need to tell her right now. You will go to meet her very soon. We're all going together. Do not change your body at all."
Arthur's expression crumpled. "Kay, don't do that! Don't lock me down! It… it..."
"Mystery. How long before we get back if we drive straight through with just gas breaks?"
"A day and a half, two days at most," Mystery answered.
"Two days at most. You can wait that long."
"Phone!" Arthur thrust his hand out to Kay. "I can call, can tell her right away!"
She paused. That was an excellent compromise and would relieve Arthur of the compulsion. Kay reached for her pocket but Mystery grabbed her wrist.
"Cayenne. Arthur. I see this is distressing for Arthur, and clearly we will have to maintain a careful balance for the next day or so, but consider the unexpected benefits of this situation."
Kay glanced at him, sharply. "What benefit is there to Arthur being stressed out the whole trip?"
"He is compelled to speak to Mother. If the only way to speak to her is to see her face to face, then he will not have a chance to change his mind and run away on our return trip." Mystery shifted his hand over to Arthur's shoulder. "You were afraid you couldn't get yourself all the way there, weren't you? The meeting must happen. Now it's all you can think about."
Arthur sagged. Kay's heart sank, but Mystery made sense. She selected her words carefully. "Arthur, I still need you. Our kids will need you. Clearly, Gareth didn't expect to be leaving so soon. He was careless with words in his urgency." There. Arthur's gaze finally met hers. "If he'd taken his time, he would ask you to deliver his message at a pace that doesn't wreck you. He might even have signed it so you weren't compelled. He just panicked. You know this. I know this. You will get to tell Mother, but travel in the RV with me. The whole way." She swallowed her qualifiers. This could not be mistaken for a request. "And do not find any way to call ahead."
He bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers. "Kay. I need you to be sure. This is… the right thing to do?"
"I am sure. I'd override Gareth if I could, but it's never been good for Dad when he got contradictory commands. Best I can do is slow you down to a reasonable pace." She smiled sadly. "Loopholes, remember?"
The lines around his eyes softened. "Okay. I trust you."
They stayed in town just long enough to pick up ingredients for a few meals. Ginny hadn't exaggerated; the RV really was a tiny house on wheels. Kay loaded everything into the full-sized fridge fridge and began pulling out drawers and flipping open cabinets. She was delighted to find the cupboards furnished with all basic cookware and utensils. She pulled out a skillet, a small saucepan, a cutting board, and a knife to start.
The RV rumbled underfoot. Kay caught herself on the island as the vehicle lurched forward, then settled into a steadier pace. Releasing the counter, she glanced up front to the living room. Arthur and Mystery were moving a little coffee table to the side. Arthur seated himself cross-legged on the wood-paneled floor and flipped open his tool-kit while Mystery set the prosthetic on the floor before him.
The back of Arthur's shirt was dark and sweat stood out on his forehead, but his eyes were still clear as he gingerly prised open a main panel on the prosthetic. He pulled out a long, golden feather and tucked it behind his ear.
Heat rose to Kay's cheeks as she turned to retrieve ingredients from the fridge. It was always the little things, like how close he kept the engagement plume.
"Could you pass me the tiny flathead?" Arthur asked Mystery.
"You'll have to be more specific. You have at least five flathead screwdrivers that I'd call 'tiny'."
"Then keep holding this thing still while I grab what I need."
Kay began trimming fat and ligaments from chicken breasts. Living in the wild had been a real adventure, but she was more than ready to make a hot comfort-foods meal for the family—
No. For Arthur. And Mystery. And the poor, tired drivers up front. Unreasonable yearning robbed her of breath. She put a hand on her stomach. I didn't even get to say goodbye to the kids.
A moment later, Arthur's arm circled around her from behind. She bit her lip, leaning into him. "I feel stupid for missing them. They're not gone."
His breath tickled her ear. "They are and are not gone at the same time, like they were with and not with us. We cannot speak to them as we have, not for many years. We will have to raise them, first. I will miss them, too."
She caught his hand in hers and turned to look at his face. "You don't, yet?"
His lips thinned. "It is hard to…" his gaze drifted for a moment, then abruptly refastened on her. "Hard to stay here, right now." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I will miss them together with you, soon."
She stole a kiss, then pushed him gently. "Repairs will keep you here, right?"
"Probably. As long as I can stretch them. I'll need your help after I'm done, most likely. Yours and Mystery's." He shuffled back into the living room. "I can count on you too, right, mutt?"
"I will do all that I can."
Arthur reseated himself, then looked back up at Kay. "You have a blank check to say whatever you need to say to keep me on track. You know that, right?"
She nodded. He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to the prosthetic.
He trusts me. Warmth and sadness mingled in her as she set the chicken aside and rinsed mushrooms in the sink.
You trust her, yes, but that is separate from the compulsion pounding at the edge of every thought, prying at your will. The muscles along your shoulders feel like a single steel beam locked in place and the rest of your body is just as tightly strung. "Caught between a rock and a hard place," you mumble, inspecting the prosthetic's connector point. Balancing two siren orders is…
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You blink. The prosthetic comes back into focus. The light is different. There are more car sounds outside the RV. You're aware of fully-cooked food-smells—oh that is quite nice. Mystery is poking your shoulder.
You swat his hand away. "I'm fine. I'm here."
"Good. Because I'm hungry and I'd like to have some of what Cayenne has prepared before the century turns."
The food is already done, but the connector is exactly as it was when you started repairing it. Not good. You abandon the arm, joining Mystery up on the couch. Kay brings over two steaming bowls, setting one in your lap and handing the other to Mystery. The fork travels from bowl to mouth in half a breath. Oh. You have missed this. Kay has quite a way with garlic. You slurp down noodles, licking alfredo sauce from the fork. Oh, and mushrooms. And chicken. Oh, glorious—
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"Arthur?"
The fork is halfway to your mouth, just hanging there. You lower it back to the bowl, sighing. "I'm sorry, Kay. This is going to be harder than I thought. Clearly."
She runs a hand through your hair and cradles the back of your head. "I'll be back to eat with you two in a moment. I need to make sure our drivers get a share. We'll make it."
"We'll make it," you echo. Maybe if you say it enough, it will be true.
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Kay has to reheat your meal twice, and you aren't able to finish it before it comes back up in the bathroom. It's like ash in your mouth and rocks in your belly. You are curled up like a child, wrapped in her wings, crying, "I can't, I can't make it, I can't. Please let me go on ahead, please!"
She has set herself like stone, but grips you as if she can keep the pieces together. She gives no response to your pleading. Mystery stays two paces away, positioned between you and the door. As if you could not make your own way through the siding of this cursedly slow vehicle if she would just—
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This is a dream. It has to be a dream. A nightmare, where you know something terrible will happen if you don't start running as fast as possible, but every time you try to leave, your limbs refuse to move. You are locked in invisible chains, and the jailor has no mercy, no pity, no scrap of sympathy for—
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A moment. A split second where the pounding subsides. You dive for the floor and seize your tools, throwing your concentration into this one thing. One thing you can fix. One thing you can control and change right now. Fix something broken. Fix your arm. If you can replace this circuit, maybe you can keep the bad things from happening. If you can fuse this wire, maybe you can keep death at bay. Don't count the time. Don't ask how far is left to go.
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Mystery watched over Arthur with increasing grimness as afternoon became night and night became morning. There was no sleep to be had for any of them. Surely he was right not to let Arthur call ahead, but he hadn't thought it would cost this much.
Every hour, Mystery drained the edge off Arthur's anxiety, but it was like dragging a shot glass through a geyser. Intermittently, Arthur would freeze in the middle of some action or plea. His gaze was distant, his face a rictus. Kay could not offer a full-volume serenade, not without endangering their drivers and others on the road, but Mystery wasn't convinced that her gentle humming and soft-spoken words were reaching Arthur.
At about two in the morning, Arthur had flung himself back at his prosthetic and toolkit like they were his lifeline. Since then, he had ceased acknowledging either of them.
Kay's features were taut and her eyes were shadowed in the morning light. Mystery approached and pressed a hot mug of coffee into her hands. "You're doing the right thing."
"I hope so." She turned her head a fraction toward him. "How far, now?"
"I have conveyed urgency to our drivers, but they have no desire to get in an accident. I gather we will arrive this evening."
She shut her eyes, sagging against the back of the couch. "Mystery, I need you to go ahead of us."
Alarmed, Mystery stammered, "You… you haven't slept at all! And I am meant to be here in case you cannot restrain him yourself. What if he finds a way around your words, Cayenne? I… I don't think this is wise."
"Well, I do. I need you to get him a straight shot to Shiro Mori. If you get there ahead of us, you can make sure Lewis and Vivi and Dib all stay clear no matter how much they want first crack at him. Tell them to hold off. Not a single hug or greeting until his head is clear. Most importantly, I need your Shiro Mori to be ready and waiting, not resting or meditating or whatever she does in her off time. We do this the moment we step off the camper, and we have it over with." She lifted the mug to her lips and began draining away the hot drink.
"You could…" he lowered his voice, leaning toward her. "You could call ahead and give those instructions yourself. Once again, I protest the notion of leaving you alone to handle this."
She shook her head. "I could call, but I would prefer you be there yourself to enforce things. You see what's going on here, so you know how urgent it is to clear the obstacles. They won't really understand, not until they see him, and by then it's too late. Please. I can handle Arthur. I need you to clear the runway for us."
Mystery sighed. "I don't like it. At all. But I see your point." He dropped to the floor beside Arthur and bumped into his shoulder, opening himself to the man's torrential emotions. Arthur's frenetic movements ceased. So did his breathing.
Mystery's lungs contracted, squeezing a whine from him. He gritted his teeth, gathering as much of the icy terror as he could manage. "I think you will have a short window with him, now. Take care, Cayenne. Be on guard." With that, he sprang to the door, flung it open, and hurled himself out. In a flash, his body contracted and his arms feathered. He took wing as a hawk, fueling bullet-speed travel with Arthur's shrieking anxiety.
Were you doing something? Are you still in the nightmare? Wings. Soft feathers. Ocean smell. Sadness. Kay, Kay, I'm sorry. I don't mean it. Ignoring you? Must be. Don't know where I am. Have to move. Can't. Wrong direction. Right direction. Head hurts.
Voice by your ear. Gentle. Soft. "We'll make it. I'll be with you the whole way. Just a few more hours."
Few more. Few more. Can make it. Few more…
Wind screamed around Mystery's head as the world blurred into bleeding streaks of color. He had a direction in his head and a face from his memories to aim for, and that was all he had. Each wingbeat pushed him farther from danger, farther from the terrible things. It was coming for him, coming to rip his tails off and steal his soul. He had to get to her. That face. She would protect him. She cared for him.
No. There was no danger, not behind him. The danger was ahead of him. He had to stop the possibility of danger. That he might lose something important. That was the terrible thing. He had to tell her something important.
Her scent was on the wind. He adjusted course, following the trail. Everything depended on telling her the important thing. The thing that would keep it all from falling apart.
The face filled his vision. There she was, coming up fast. He spread his wings wide, braking so hard his joints wrenched in the current. He cried warning a few seconds before he folded his wings into his body and shifted into dog form.
She caught him. He knew she would catch him. He could always trust her to do that. She staggered back as he burrowed into her arms, trembling all over. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please don't shut me out. Please don't close me off. I don't know how to make it right but I'll try all the rest of my days, please, Vivi. I can't stand it, I can't. Please forgive me. I can't stand it."
The arms closed tightly around him. The smell of shock faded into affection. Oh! And it was for him! He drank it in, gasping in relief. Thoughts scattered by the terror began to reconstitute. Was he making a fool of himself? Probably, but it hardly mattered at this point. She was still angry, but that had shrunk to a mere undercurrent of emotion.
"You know, you promised me an apology that was appropriate and made sense, you spaghetti nogged loom looter."
Mystery choked on a laugh, raising his head to lick her chin. His vision was still too blurry to make her face out properly, but love and acceptance radiated from her.
"What has you so rattled? Is Squire okay? Kay?" Concern sharpened her tone.
"A moment," he pleaded. "No emergency, give me a moment."
She sat down, still holding him. He became aware of other smells in the vicinity. Spicy peppers and wariness. Cherry blossoms and alarm. He collected himself, one thought at a time. "It seems I overindulged in Arthur's fear. I was trying to help him. He is in a sorry state right now, but is most definitely coming this way. Kay asked me to prepare the way. Would you please call everyone to the surface? Kay and Arthur will be arriving in a few hours, and there are some warnings to dole out and preparations to make."
Notes: Chapter title excerpted from Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons