In the moment between dreams relinquishing their hold on him and full consciousness, Arthur reveled in the luxurious fullness of a good night's sleep. He hugged his pillow tighter, a silly grin on his face. No nightmares. So good. Could just lie here…
No. Couldn't just lie there. Today they were set to hit the road for the new Finch case, their first once since Lewis' death. Thus the first sour note in the comfortable feeling; Lewis wasn't invited. Arthur had to tell him that before they left today. He kicked the covers off and rolled onto his back, scowling at the garage rafters.
He tried to make himself be grateful that Vivi hadn't immediately banished Lewis after their conversation last night. He reminded himself that she was still thinking things through and wasn't ready for a road trip that included Lewis.
Arthur was, though. He was so ready for a full group road trip. Why couldn't she just…
Sighing, he slung his feet out of bed and shuffled over to the bookcase, grabbing a clean set of clothes. Probably should shower. Going to be in close quarters with Vivi for a while. He snorted. Though it's probably more for Mystery than Vivi. Dog's nose and all. I haven't heard him complain, but… He raised his arm and sniffed. Phew. Yeah, he's just being polite. Shower time.
He left his prosthetic on the desk and shuffled down the hall, heading for the bathroom. He paused at the kitchen. No sign of Lewis today, but there were two plates of hash browns on the kitchen island. Under each was an envelope, one labelled "Vivi" and one labelled "Arthur". Arthur draped his clothes over the back of a barstool and picked up his envelope. It wasn't sealed, so it was easier to pry the piece of paper out one-handed. There was a faint smell of smoke on the envelope and the paper crackled as he pulled it out.
Arthur. Overheard the end of the conversation last night. Don't worry about it. Have fun on the roadtrip. Just be sure to give me all the details when you get back and take some photos so I can put together a good blog post for the group. If the case goes well, it'll be a boost to our portfolio. Please don't look for me, I don't want company today. I need to think. I'll see you when you get back. Watch Vivi's back for me. She could stand to catch a little caution from you. —Lewis
Relief—he didn't have to break it to Lewis—and worry. What was Lewis stewing over? Likely it was something in connection with the conversation he'd overheard. Arthur wished they could have had that talk somewhere else, but Vivi hadn't left him much choice.
It didn't sit right. None of it did. But what could he do?
What could he do? He had to get most of a day's driving in to reach the factory Mothman specified. Lewis didn't think gliding down the roads, trailing a streak of fire, was the best idea. It was great for intimidating a target, not so great for getting from point A to point B covertly. He couldn't take the van since the Mystery Skulls needed it to get to their next case. He was not about to touch Vivi's car, even if she wasn't using it today.
He could just will a car into existence, but creating an entire mansion had cost him… a whole lot of something. Ectoplasm? Spiritual energy? Essence? Vivi would have had the right words for it. Whatever it was, he'd slipped into a sort of numb, limbo-like state after he failed to eliminate Arthur that first time. No telling how long he'd stayed like that and he wasn't eager to repeat the experiment. Possessing a truck, however, had been far easier.
Now that he wasn't driven by murderous rage, he wasn't sure how he felt about stealing a car from someone on the street. In fact, he felt pretty bad about the truck he'd stolen. Its pieces now rested in Kingsmen Mechanics junkyard, and the trucker he'd stolen it from might be out a job. He sighed, flicking his fingers to dismiss the thought. Nothing he could do for the trucker now. Lewis might be able to get the truck's wrecked cab moving and use that to meet Mothman, but it was still too far and too open between their house and Kingsmen Mechanics.
Lewis snapped his fingers. Vivi's car had been making worrisome noises lately. Taking her car for a joyride would probably incur her wrath, but taking her car to the shop was fair game. From there, he could snag the already-wrecked truck cab and hit the road.
That means facing Lance.
Lewis cringed. Lance had less power to cause him real harm than Vivi, but… But I tried to kill his nephew, then beat Lance senseless, and I was in the wrong.
He glanced out the window of the living room at the sleepy, pre-dawn street. If he stole a neighbor's car, he might draw attention to Arthur and Vivi. That wasn't a good call.
Facing Lance wasn't going to be pleasant, but it was the least risky option.
It was decided, then. He cooked hash browns for three and dumped one portion into Mystery's bowl. He wrote up a letter for Vivi and another for Arthur. He wrote one more for Lance and tucked it into his coat. A bribe of scrambled eggs and bacon pieces snagged him Mystery's assistance in acquiring Vivi's car key. He didn't need it, but Lance would. With everything in place, Lewis snuck out to Vivi's car and poured himself into the cracks and crevices of the vehicle. Each window took on a heavy tint, hiding the emptiness of the vehicle as it slid smoothly out of the driveway and headed to the edge of town.
The drive out to the edge of town was silent.
Back when Arthur had dragged Vivi to every godforsaken haunt in the state in search of Lewis, they'd talked for hours. They cracked jokes and traded snacks every step of the way. Every rest stop was a mini-highlight, a chance to stock up and see if there were any unique munchies to be found in the latest obscure backroad truckstop. Even when Vivi knocked out in the back on the mattress, there was always her chainsaw-level snore and the radio playing whatever the local stations had to offer. At that point, Arthur would often talk at Mystery, back when Mystery was playing at being a normal dog and nothing else.
But now? Last night's conversation hung heavy on Arthur. So did Lewis' absence this morning. Vivi stared out the passenger window, her elbow on the door frame and her chin in her hand. Mystery lay on the seat between them, glancing back and forth, his ears limp.
It was another five hours to the hotel nearest the Finch house. This was not the road trip Arthur pictured. Even reaching for the radio knob felt like a rude interruption. He wasn't sure he could take five hours of this. He fixed his eyes on the road, regretting his suggestion to take this case with every minute that passed.
A throat cleared, jarring Arthur out of his stewing. "So, Arthur." Mystery sounded far more hesitant than usual. "We haven't really discussed the possibilities regarding Dr. Noble's findings."
Arthur's knuckles whitened. That was not a good topic to bring up for a road trip, especially while he was driving.
Vivi's head swiveled. "Forgot to ask how that's been going. Your doc found something?"
"Yeah, my cholesterol is getting better."
Vivi stared at him for a few seconds. "Yeah, I get the feeling Mystery didn't bring this up because your bloodwork is better than last time."
"Then why don't you ask Mystery. He brought it up."
"Because I'm asking you."
Arthur knew he was being obstinate, but even the heavy silence was preferable to this. He didn't want to talk about his damn bloodwork. If they were going to have serious conversation, he wanted to talk about Vivi's thoughts on the group situation now, and if they weren't going to do that, then he wanted to hit up the nearest Buc-ee's and tease Vivi about her terrible taste in jerky flavors.
Abruptly, Arthur changed tack. "What did Lewis say in your letter?"
"I asked you a question first."
"I'll answer you if you answer me."
Trees and grass and telephone poles blurred past. A billboard cheerily proclaimed, "Our aim is to have clean restrooms. Your aim will help. Buc-ee's, 7 miles." Arthur couldn't quite bring himself to grin as he waited on Vivi.
"He told me to pay more attention if you're uneasy about something on the job, because you're probably sensitive to really bad paranormal situations. Said it might save my life and keep things from going irretrievably south."
That took Arthur off guard. Sure, Lewis had told him to watch Vivi's back, but Lewis thought there was something more to Arthur's fear?
Vivi continued. "He also said he was taking my car to the shop, so don't call the police because it wasn't stolen."
Arthur took a second to determine there were no other cars around, then slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel to turn them in the other direction.
"What in the name of dijon mustard?" Vivi shouted, bracing against the ceiling and door.
"We have to make a stop at Kingsmen Mechanics," Arthur said.
"What the patterned pamphlet do we have to do that for, you bread-battered son of a balbriggan producer?!"
"We just do."
"No we do not! Pull over right now!"
Growling, Arthur pulled the van over to the shoulder of the road and thew it into park. Then he turned to Vivi, ready to tell her exactly why they had to get to Kingsmen Mechanics before his uncle put another set of lead holes through Lewis.
Her face was pale and her breathing uneven. She was still braced against the door and the roof like the van was about to flip any second. Mystery sprawled across her lap, his glasses askew. He righted them with a paw, looking reproachfully at Arthur. Arthur's retort died on his tongue.
"Vivi, I… I just…"
"Arthur Kingsmen, are we friends?"
Arthur blinked. "I… what?"
"Are we friends?"
"Yes. Of course. Why…?
"Because you're not acting like it. And, in fact, for a long time you've acted like the only friend you have in the world is Lewis."
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. Vivi continued. "You realize you make every concession for him, Arthur? And not very many, if any, for me? Me, Vivi. The Vivi of right now, who is apparently markedly different than the Vivi before that night in the cave. In fact, by all rights and purposes, the Vivi who went into that cave died."
A small, wounded sound escaped Arthur's lips.
"I don't know why she cared for Lewis Pepper and I don't know the man myself. It seems like you're doing most everything for Lewis' sake, and whatever leftover efforts you claim to be making for my sake, you're really making for old Vivi, but she's long gone and you can't seem to wrap your brain around that."
Mystery tilted his muzzle up toward Vivi and whined softly. She dropped her gaze and took a slow breath in. "Just now, you dropped every last thing except that you had to go back and protect Lewis Pepper. Well, as an amateur student of the nature of ghosts, I can tell you that what's left of Lewis Pepper is perfectly capable of protecting himself from Lance. And if he is as misunderstood and kind as you claim he is, then your uncle is in no danger either. The worst thing that happens is Lance curses him out or gives him the cold shoulder. So why the blistering blue barnacles are you ready to drop everything, including the road safety of your friend who is right here, to leadfoot it over there?"
Her words were like hammerfists to the chest and gut. He stared down at the steering wheel, searching for a good answer that would turn the tide of this conversation. Nothing reasonable presented itself.
"Switch," she said firmly. Numb, Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled into the back of the van. Vivi slid over to take the driver's seat. He lay down on the mattress as Vivi started the car up and turned it around once again. The telephone poles began sliding by the windows. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight nine ten eleven twelvethriteenfourteenfifteen...
Only fifteen miles over to Kingsmen Mechanics. It felt like a thousand. Lewis pulled Vivi's car into the first empty bay and gently sounded the horn. Just ahead was the door to the main office. That's where Lance would come out, most likely.
Dropping the letter and the key in the front seat, he cracked the driver's door open and began collecting himself from the workings of the car, pooling himself out through the cracks of the trunk door. If he stayed low, he probably could get past Lance and over to the junkyard while he was distracted with the empty car and the letter. He collected himself back into his skeletal form and scanned his escape route.
Lance was standing in his escape route. Right in the center of the bay door behind the car. With the double-barrelled shotgun cradled in his hands. Clearly he hadn't been in the main office like Lewis hoped.
"Vivi's car don't have tinted windows," Lance growled. "Saw ye comin' a mile off."
Lewis raised his hands up, palms out.
"Well? Why're ye here? Whaddaya have t'say for yerself?"
Slowly, Lewis gestured to the area of his face where a mouth should be and shook his head. He pointed to himself, then pointed to the front of the car.
"Got somethin' to get? Watch yer step," Lance warned, cocking the gun.
Lewis felt ridiculous. The only way the gun could really hurt him was if a bullet hit his anchor. Still, he used to admire Lance. The intent of the gun was clear even if the danger was not, and it stung. Lewis edged over to the front of the car and plucked the key and letter from the front seat. He set them on the ground and took three steps back.
Lance scooped up the letter, keeping one eye on Lewis, and shook the paper out. He mumbled as he read, "Sorry can't talk… writ this instead… was badly mistak—yeah, no shit, kid. Badly mistaken. Workin' it out with gang. Need a lift to meet someone… meet someone who might help me." Lance glanced back up. "What, yer team ain't good enough for ya?"
Lewis wrung his hands.
"Yeah yeah, can't talk." He dropped his eyes back to the paper. "Gonna borrow the wrecked cab. Brought Vivi's car… please fix… pick it up later." Lance's eyes returned to the top of the letter and went over it once again. Then he refocused on Lewis. "So that's it. Just, 'sorry, yankin' some junk, fix the car, bye'?"
Lewis' skull sank halfway into the neck-hole of his suit. Lance's words shamed him, but he wasn't about to start talking out loud here. It wouldn't improve Lance's mood if his tools formed a mutiny and tried to execute him after Lewis explained things in detail. Lewis just folded his hands.
Lance stared at him for another few minutes. "Artie told me you two were workin' it out. Looks like there's still a heap'a work ta go." He set the gun against the wall, then turned to Vivi's car and popped the hood. "Cab's out in the yard. Whatever mumbo jumbo ya do, do it b'fore my guys get here and don't come back 'til after hours."
Relieved, Lewis inched toward the bay doors.
"Kid," Lance called, elbows deep in the engine. "Piece of advice."
Lewis paused, looking back.
"Go home. If Artie bit it and came back like you, an' was hidin' out or hauntin' somewhere… I'd wanna know." Lance lifted his face, already smudged with grease. "Even if he looked hellish as you. Yer family's still busted up 'bout you. Ain't right they don't know."
Lewis ducked his head and hurried out of the bay. That was a can of worms he wasn't nearly ready to pop open. Bad enough he had to figure out how to re-earn Vivi's trust, no way was he ready to face his family. His parents would be so disappointed. And his sisters... he was clearly the subject of Arthur's nightmares already, he had no desire to spread that terror to his sisters.
It didn't take long to find the cab. It no longer had a shipping container to haul and would be much easier to control now. Lewis quickly slipped into the workings of the truck, bringing the decimated vehicle roaring to life.
Time to hit the road.
"Okay, take these. We're hitting the road for real, now." Vivi climbed back into the driver's seat and dumped several grocery bags into the back with Arthur. Foil-wrapped sandwiches, plastic packs of jerky, and little buckets of pre-made cookies went flying. A little vacuum sealed meat-and-cheese tray smacked Arthur in the face. "Oops."
He just tilted his head to the side, letting the tray slide off. Sighing, Vivi tapped Mystery on the head. "Stay, okay?" She crawled back and sat next to Arthur. Grabbing a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, she tore it open and wafted it under his nose. "Peace offering. Sit up and talk to me, would ya?"
Watching Arthur sit upright was like watching someone climb out of a deep pit. It was slow and laborious and took way more effort than such a simple motion should have cost. He was clearly somewhere else, probably still deep in his own head. But he took the bag of chips and crunched down on one. Vivi snagged a paper cone of sugar frosted pecans and popped one in her mouth.
They both got about halfway through their respective snacks before Arthur broke the silence. "I don't know how to fix it," he said. There was a terrible helplessness in that sentence that twisted things in Vivi's stomach. "You're right. I'm trying to make it like it used to be, before… I ruined things."
"You didn't—"
"Please. Just. Let me say things. Or I can't say anything."
Vivi shoveled a whole handful of nuts into her mouth to muffle her objections.
"I ruined things, so I should fix it. But. Nobody's the same." He finally lifted his eyes to hers. "You're right. You're not… the same person. And I'm trying to fix it between you and Lewis like you are the same. It's all… all I know to do. You were so happy with him, and I'd never seen him so goofy. It was really wonderful."
A light headache flared behind Vivi's eyes, but she held onto his words without digging deeper. No sense trying to recall the memory, it would only knock her flat. Still, it hurt to hear. She did want to be that happy again. She would love to have somebody like the Lewis that Arthur described. But the ghost haunting them now wasn't that same Lewis.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what it's okay for me to want." Arthur stared down into the chip bag. "What I wanted probably ruined everything for us before, so how do I know it's okay to want things now? I thought it was right to want things to go back to normal and fight for that, but you're telling me it's not, so I don't know what to do."
Vivi found herself studying the last few nuts in the paper cone, too. Arthur had hinted a few times that there was already a foothold ready for the demon to dig into, but it was one of those things neither of them pursued too hard. Maybe things would fall apart even worse if too many issues surfaced at the same time. It all felt too fragile to strain it too far, and there were things Vivi didn't want to lose either.
"That's all, I guess." he said. "I don't know what to do, and I don't want to lose or ruin any more than I already have."
Vivi reached over and stole a chip from Arthur's bag. "Yeah, well. Not like I have much more of a clue. I'm trying to take things one step at a time. I'm missing big chunks of my map, but standing still isn't going to get me anywhere. So." She crunched down the chip and made a face. "Ugh. I forgot. How do your taste buds stand you?"
A faint smile flickered on his face.
Vivi continued. "Anyway. Half the point of this trip is me leaving the house so I don't have to look at Lewis' mopey skull while I'm mad enough to lay an actual curse on the rest of his afterlife. It gives me time to think this through. And, yeah, I've been missing hangout time with you. So do you think we can head on out and tackle the Finch case before we deal with our own basket of brawling salamanders back home?"
Arthur reached over and plucked the paper cone from her hand, tipping it back and downing the last few nuts at the bottom. He raised one hand up to his forehead in mock salute. "Aye aye, fearless leader."
"Good." She swatted his arm, then crawled back up front. Arthur moved into the passenger's seat and buckled up as she started the van. "Now, first order of business. You owe me an answer this time. What's this about your bloodwork?"
Note: I swear more than I used to. In real life and in fics. It kind of bothers me sometimes, but thing is… it also feels right, when I put it in the story. Maybe some parts of me are angrier than they used to be, but the only person who legitimately gets away with saying things on level of "gosh golly gee" is Vivi, who is very clearly swearing blue streaks in her own way. I guess, best I can tell you is, I'll do my best to make sure swearing isn't gratuitous. That's something that always bugs me, swearing for swearing's sake doesn't make much sense to me and doesn't add to the story. So I'll try to avoid that. Also processing out some relational concepts. This might turn into a few chapters of conscious self processing.