Diamond on a Landmine
~Chapter 3~
Arthur was half asleep by the time they made it to Rodger's house. He lived across the island and by how he kept talking to him, his voice low and soft to his surprise, he felt himself slowly start to relax. Though, the constant sting of his cuts are what kept him awake the whole journey to his house. He didn't want to have this be an all night event, though.
Rodger's house was decent, actually, and pretty cozy. It was warm, too, feeling great against Arthur's cold skin. Rodger carried him upstairs, passing a few downer detectors. For a moment, Arthur wondered if Rodger had anything valuable in his home. But, he pushed that thought away. After he was cleaned up and released, he was going to be far away from this house and from Rodger. The bobby still gave him the creeps, as he felt as though something was off with him.
"Sorry for how long it took," Rodger spoke as he sat Arthur on the counter. The man just gave him a small shrug. "How are you feeling? Fever or anything like that?"
"I'm fine," His answer came out short as he looked down at the floor. Rodger just gave him a sigh. "Why are you helping me?"
"I enjoy you," he replied, giving him a warm smile, even though it was behind a cold mask. "Besides, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly one of those joy-filled Wellies."
Arthur stared at him, almost surprised. Rodger had seemed to be happy like one of the others, but as he stared at him longer, he earned himself a small chuckle.
"You don't believe me, do you?" he questioned. Arthur shook his head.
"Your eyes are constricted!" he nearly cried. There was another chuckle.
"I take Sunshine pills," he told him softly, "They make it look like you're on joy, and they trick the detectors. The only thing I have to worry about is making sure I act like I'm on joy."
"So why not leave to the Garden District?" Rodger looked at him like he was crazy. "I mean… normally downers go there. They don't want to stay in Hamlyn or Maidenholm."
"I don't want to be out in that hell," he explained, laughing more. "Here, I can have a nice home with a decent job and a safe place to sleep at night."
"Speaking of which, what about your job? Isn't it past your shift?" Rodger shrugged, pouring a bit of antiseptic onto a clean rag and dabbing it onto the cut on his leg. Arthur let out a cry in pain. God, it stung so bad!
"They'll understand," he replied, "I'll tell them I was helping a… good friend in need."
This actually made Arthur smile, though he tried to hide it. He didn't know why it had made him smile, though it did make him feel good to hear someone considering him a friend. He didn't hear that much these days.
It took them a good five minutes before Arthur was patched up. He wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, seeing as it was better to get to the cut on his arm. Arthur had actually shivered when he took his jacket off, the warmth no longer being trapped in. Rodger just smiled at him. Once he was done, Rodger slowly and gently pulled down Arthur's pant leg after he was done wrapping up his leg, standing up and smiling down at him.
"All better!" he spoke, Arthur admiring his bandages. It felt nice, honestly. His cuts felt a lot better. "Now, I have to hurry off to work. Feel free to stay here since it's late, and the other bobbies won't like to see you out."
"Thank you, Rodger," The man led him to one of the spare rooms, telling him that a sewing kit was in one of the dressers. And after that, Rodger was gone, wanting him to make himself feel right at home. Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed, folding his hands in his lap. It was soft and comfy, and after kicking off his shoes and socks, and putting his glasses on the nightstand, he laid down on the bed. He didn't feel like looking in the drawer for a sewing kit. He was so tired. He didn't pull the covers over himself. He just rolled onto his side, tucking his knees up to his chest and closing his eyes. It didn't take long before he was out.
He lasted a couple hours, before his nightmares kicked in. He stood in the snow, the cold wind hitting his skin and feeling like tiny needles upon his face and hands. He held himself, walking forward slowly. He squinted, trying to see what was in front of him. He could see white, that was for sure. But… there was something in the distance. What was it? He couldn't be for sure, but from what he could see from this distance was something dark. Black, perhaps?
He got closer. It felt like forever until he reached the object, and by this time he wished he never did. The thing wasn't an object, but a person. Percival Hastings. His little brother laid in front of him, his body a purplish color. His hair was all over the place, and blood stained the corner of his mouth and under his nose. He felt sick, falling to his knees. His body trembled, and this time it wasn't due to the cold. His brother. His little brother laid in the snow in front of him, frozen and dead. Everything he had went through – all of the hell he risked his life to get through – had all been wasted. He couldn't save Percy. He started to sob, reaching forward and shaking the body. He knew it was pointless, but god, he wanted him to wake up.
"Please!" he cried, "Percy, please, just wake up! Look at me, dammit! Answer me!"
Of course, he didn't get an answer. But, that didn't stop him from screaming his name, begging for him to answer. He continued to shake him, crying harder because he knew there was nothing he could do.
Arthur woke up with tears streaming down his face, still crying out for his brother. He felt a small amount of relief when he saw he was back in one of the rooms of Rodger's house, the only light being from the moonlight from outside. He sat there, hugging his knees as he calmed his breathing, wiping away his tears. He kept telling himself it was just a dream and that Percy was most likely fine. Everything was okay.
He sighed, finally getting his breathing back to normal. He turned on a light, opening the drawer by the bed and taking the sewing kit out. He put his glasses back on, grabbed his coat and went to work sewing up his sleeve. It took him a bit, but he finally fixed it. He smiled at this, looking at his work. It looked decent. So, he put his jacket to the side and looked at his pants. He didn't feel like fixing them yet, feeling uncomfortable removing any more articles of clothing in this house. So, he put the sewing kit back and went through his jacket. He always kept his journal in the inside pocket. It wasn't too big, but it fit all of his thoughts and letters he found. He pulled out one of them, reading it over.
"Dear Uncle Jack,
I've noticed an increase in crows lately, and have been very weary about keeping my windows open. My wife bakes pies very often and likes to sit them on the window sill so they can cool, and I don't need any crows to come by and take them away. Is this something that will pass, or will I have to find another way to let my pies cool?
Sincerely,
Nimmy Swift"
God, Arthur wouldn't mind having some pie right now. He remembered when his mother used to make them pie. They were always the best.
"Dear Uncle Jack,
I've been very tired lately, and I find it hard to get out of bed in the morning. I've been to the doctors more than once, and they tell me to continue to take my joy. I have done this, and I still feel the same. Is this one of the side effects of joy, or do I have another serious problem?
Sincerely,
Mabel Hobbs"
He chuckled at this. Maybe he should send these back, let Uncle Jack answer these questions and whatnot. But, he grabbed another one. This wasn't a question. This one of more… dark.
"Jack,
Regarding the earlier events that took place after the war, I understand it wasn't entirely your fault, though I do understand that you're nothing but a spineless worm for going along with this hell. How dare"
It was unreadable from that point, the words after it being scribbled out. He wondered who this person was, and what they knew about those events. Though, he understood this person wasn't very fond of Uncle Jack. He just sighed, setting the letters down on the bed. Perhaps that was enough for today.