Chapter Text
Arthur left the clinic conflicted. His joints no longer had a dull ache, his skin felt smooth, and he felt stronger than before. His concussion was gone. But, in his mind, he was replaying the situation repeatedly. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped. The room was fortified, metal walls much like the cellar. When the screen had come down, blocking him from seeing Linus, he had panicked. He felt himself teetering on reckless, manic glee from burning so hot, and a full blown panic attack at the same time. His emotions were raw and rough, and he clung to Linus as they headed out.
Linus refused to let go of his hand and looked troubled. Arthur had an idea why; his phoenix form was terrifying to most people. He remembered Charles had told him it was unsettling. The first time Linus had seen him, he had only seen awe and joy in his eyes, but maybe he had been seeing what he wanted to see. He had never seen himself but given his long talons, flickering wings, and sharp beak, he could imagine how disturbing it would look. Linus was holding on to the man he knew, in fear that the creature he had seen would come back.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Linus asked. Arthur shrugged. While the doctor had made him feel terrible, he had been through worse. There was no sense in dwelling on a few insensitive comments. Still, his head felt foggy in a way that did not resemble the fogginess of his concussion.
They walked through DICOMA, heading for the front door. As they stepped outside, Arthur made eye contact with someone and froze. Walking up the steps of the DICOMA building was Charles Werner. Linus pulled his hand, but Arthur stayed still as Charles noticed him.
“Arthur, what’s wrong?” Linus asked. He turned to find what he was staring at. “You look like you’ve seen a...”
Arthur felt Linus’ grip tighten in his hand, and he felt himself squeeze back a little to ground himself. He started down the steps at a diagonal, so they would just pass him. Maybe he’d just shoot a disgusted look their way and be on his way.
“It’s fine,” Arthur reassured him. “He wouldn’t be caught dead talking to me-”
“It’s been some time, Arthur,” Charles said. “Don’t pretend you can’t hear me; I know you can.”
Arthur sighed, looking down at Linus, who had already looked over his shoulder. There was a venom in Linus’ expression Arthur was not prepared for. He had been uneasy when he saw Charles, but this was something else; not jealous or possessive, but protective. Arthur swiveled on his heel. “What, Werner?”
Both Charles and Linus looked surprised by his rudeness. However, Charles recovered sooner, striding over. He looked almost the same, other than his graying hair, and the wrinkles around his eyes. He grinned, like they were old friends—or like a cat finding a mouse—and straightened his cuffs.
“No need to be so hostile,” he said. Arthur knew it was meant to be teasing, but Linus did not. He stepped forward, putting himself between Charles and Arthur. They were close enough that Charles had to look down to meet his eyes.
“We want nothing to do with you,” Linus said firmly. Arthur had never seen Linus so upset. Could Linus tell how mentally strained he was? All he needed was to get back to the children—he wanted to go home.
“I understand you don’t, Mr. Baker,” Charles said. He was as glib as Arthur remembered. “Arthur? There can’t only be...hard feelings, can there?”
At that, Charles looked him up and down, and Arthur knew his younger self would have been grateful. Now, he felt borderline violated.
“Let’s go, love,” Arthur said, tugging his lover’s hand. Linus wrapped an arm around his waist, and they began to turn away.
“God, I knew you were a coward, but I didn’t know it was this bad,” Charles said. Arthur refused to turn his head, to dignify his insults with a response. He pulled Linus in a little tighter and tried to push Charles out of his mind.
They were well out of earshot of the DICOM buildings when Arthur said, “God he’s such a fucking prick.”
Linus raised his brows; Arthur didn’t tend to curse in excess. He didn’t like to get in the habit of it, what with small kids running around. However, all he said was, “agreed.”
They ended up missing their bus. Linus knew of a coffee shop nearby and bought Arthur a chamomile tea and a donut. The chamomile paled in comparison to Thalia’s, but it served the same function of calming him. His anxiety caused him to be jittery; he thought he looked like a junkie. Maybe he was, in a way, what with being so far from the island. He missed the security of it.
“You’re going to melt the cup, dear.” He said it almost under his breath. His lips were earnest, but his eyes looked sad. Arthur frowned at him, putting his hands in his lap.
“Please don’t be jealous,” he said, then thought better of it. “No, wait, that came out wrong. You can feel what you want but...you have nothing to worry about.”
Linus chuckled. “With how you looked at him, I’m not worried, Arthur. But thank you.” He sipped his tea, watching him in a way Arthur could not decipher. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Arthur laughed wryly. “Which part? The medical malpractice or Werner?”
“Either or.” Linus remained genuine. He looked concerned, and Arthur didn’t like making Linus look that way.
“I’ll be okay,” Arthur lied softly. He didn’t believe it. He knew Linus didn’t either, but he got what Arthur was really saying. Not here. He nodded, offering his plump, soft hand. Arthur looked at his hand and took a deep breath, forcefully cooling it out of fear that he would burn him. Linus did not look scared, but why would he? There was nothing remotely scary about Arthur’s human form.
“Were you scared?” Arthur asked. “Of...seeing that.”
“Of seeing you hurt?” Linus said, sounding shocked. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
Arthur smiled but he could feel his own sadness creeping into it. “No, I mean of the...” He made a little bird hand puppet. Linus frowned, then his eyes widened. He opened his mouth and closed it. Arthur sighed, covering his face. He even let out a little exasperated groan; of course, Linus had been scared. He felt a sickness in his gut.
“I would rather you say you were scared,” Arthur said. Linus frowned, then his eyes widened, and he shook his head.
“Wait! No!” he said, waving his hands a little. “That’s not what I meant! I was...thinking. Look I...” He stopped again, and his face went red. “I think I...learned something about myself?”
Arthur cocked his head. Then, it was his turn for his eyes to go wide. “Hold on-”
“We’re not talking about this!” Linus said quickly, waggling a finger at him. “Not...not here, anyway.”
Arthur let out an honest chuckle, taking Linus’ hand. He kissed the back of it. “You flatter me, Linus Baker. And you never cease to amaze me.”
“Um, yes, likewise.”
Arthur laughed some more, feeling a bit better. He sipped his tea and felt more at peace. Linus checked his watch and walked off to get some take away cups. He returned and Arthur messily transferred both drinks into their cups. His hands were covered in hot tea, but he, of course, was unbothered by it; it was part of the reason he had offered. They wandered out to the bus stop, hand in hand.
______________
Linus didn’t want to admit he was anxious. He was sure Arthur had clued in; it would certainly explain why he was rubbing his back—which, in all honesty, was helping. Still, Linus felt terrible about it; Arthur had just experienced something traumatic, and he was focusing on his discomfort. Maybe it was how he was trying to put it out of his mind. Linus knew now wasn’t the time or place to talk about the whole ordeal. Arthur needed time and space to think.
It was more than just Arthur. He was anxious about the kids, realizing it was highly irresponsible to leave them with a relative stranger, no matter who he claimed to be. What if they’d been taken? What if it was all some big ploy from DICOMY to make Arthur slip up? What if-
“Linus, we’re at our stop,” Arthur said. Linus gathered himself in a hurry, rushing to the exit. He got off and turned to look at the neighbourhood, finding the house down the street. From the stop, he could see all seven of the children; Sal and David were sitting on the porch with whom he assumed was Kennedy; Lucy, Chauncey and Theodore were playing in the yard, and Talia and Phee were in the flower bed. He stopped short and let out a sigh of relief, looking up at Arthur. He looked relieved as well, though he seemed less shaken up than Linus was.
They walked down the street, and a feeling of nostalgia washed over him, for some reason. But that would make no sense; he had never been there. Still, a level of familiarity resonated from the sagging bungalows and cracked sidewalks.
“Arthur and Linus are back!” Lucy called, and he ran toward the gate. Arthur’s face split ear to ear in a grin and he allowed himself to be enveloped in a six-person hug; David smiled from about a foot away, appearing comforted by their returns.
“Did the doctors fix it?”
“What did they do?”
“Did they scramble your brains?”
Arthur chuckled. “There was no scrambling of brains.”
The children let go after a long moment, grabbing them by the arms. Linus smiled, though his eyes remained on the house. Something about it felt so familiar to him. It looked nothing like his home; this house was a worn bungalow with loose shingles and a poor foundation. But it felt right. Not in the way Marsyas was his home, but in the way he assumed one would view their childhood home—a safe place to land. He paused at the crooked gate, taking it in.
“Do you need space?” Arthur said against his ear. Linus made eye contact with Kennedy. He shook his head. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was nervous. His father had been a figment of his imagination since he was a kid, but his mother. Well, the woman he had thought was his mother, had always been there. Not there for him, like he assumed a parent was supposed to be; not the way Arthur was there for the kids. But she had been present, and that had always been enough. What if his real mom didn’t like him? What if she didn’t approve of his transition, or was upset with him and Arthur’s relationship?
Arthur rubbing his back pulled him out of his stupor. The children had dispersed, returning to playing or gardening or chatting quietly about books they liked. Arthur remained at his side, an unwavering presence. Linus couldn’t describe Arthur as “constant”, as he was always changing—sometimes Arthur’s personality felt like a fire itself—but he was always there. Like the consistent heat of a protected and stoked hearth.
“It’s going to be okay, Linus,” Arthur reassured him. “I can’t promise it will feel okay, but it will be okay.”
Linus nodded, standing up a little straighter, and approached the porch. He stepped onto the bottom step, and it sagged. He winced, looking down, and then saw the crack in the step.
“We could fix this,” he said quietly to Arthur. He remembered the time Phee coaxed a large bunch of dandelions to grow beneath the broken front step, so Arthur had some time before he fixed it. “In more ways than one.”
Kennedy chuckled at that. “Phee said the same thing. She said Arthur was a carpenter.”
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck—his favoured nervous habit. “It’s hard to get people to come all the way out to the island. I can do patchwork.”
His father smiled at him. “That’s all any of us can do, ain’t it?”
Arthur tilted his head, thinking about it, and then he smiled back. “I suppose so.”
Linus felt more relaxed at the casual relationship between Arthur and Kennedy. He knew Arthur was still on his guard, as was his wont, but it put him at ease. “Can we come in?”
“Oh, ya, sorry,” Kennedy said, turning toward the door. “I offered for the kids to come in, but I don’t think they liked that idea, so they’ve just been playin’ in the yard. I offered ‘em snacks and drinks though, promise.” Then he paused, turning back. His face was red, and his eyes were wide. “Like juice and water and milk, not-”
“I know,” Linus said gently. “Can...Can you take me to see mom?”
Kennedy’s eyes softened, and he nodded. He led them inside, Arthur trailing beside. He hesitated in the doorway.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked. Linus nodded, taking his hand. He knew there was fear in his eyes, and Arthur looked at him with sympathy. He said something to Sal, just asking him to watch the others for a few minutes. Then he squeezed Linus’ hand and inclined his head forward. Linus followed Kennedy deeper into the house.
The house smelled like incense. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was very present. Linus recognized it because it reminded him of church— he was almost certain it was frankincense. Then, he smelled flowers. He noticed there were flowers on almost every surface. A statue of some strange humanoid with no legs had smoke coming out of its eyes; the incense, he assumed. He had always liked incense, though he rarely used any. It made him feel at peace.
The house was basically one room, aside from the bathroom. There was a small table with two chairs, and a small box tv on a little table. The kitchen was more of a kitchenette. What he assumed was their bedroom was blocked with a partial wall and a couple of curtains; the bathroom was the only entirely walled-in room. Linus followed him through to the bedroom, where Kennedy knocked on the wall next to a curtain, before pulling it back.
What he saw was...confusing. There was a woman lying in bed, but some parts of her looked translucent, like they were made of stained glass. She was pale with blotchy skin. Even Linus had to admit that looking at her was like looking in a mirror, no matter how weak she looked. She was short and round, and her hair was the same colour as his.
She opened her eyes, first smiling at Kennedy, who kissed her on the forehead. He smoothed her hair, gazing down at her with wonder and adoration.
“I have someone for you to meet,” he said softly. Realization washed over him as Linus recognized Kennedy’s tone, his mannerisms, and his smile as his own. His father stepped aside, and Linus suddenly felt very exposed. Arthur was no longer holding his hand and had stopped a little bit behind him.
There was a long moment where Isla stared at Linus, and he felt like he was being sized up. He shuffled from foot to foot, smiling sheepishly. Finally, her face split into a grin and she started to cry.
“My baby.” Her voice rasped, almost wispy, like a stray note in the breeze. She pulled the covers off and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She stood up with Kennedy’s help and shuffled across the room. Her legs shifted and phased in and out of shape, disappearing and then reforming with each step. She stopped in front of him, looking up slightly. She reached out and he allowed her to cup his face. In that moment, he was transported, almost literally, it seemed. He could recognize himself as two years old. Her hands were holding his face, and he cried about whatever it was toddlers cried over. But her hands were soft and safe. Much like the house, they were a haven; a familiar path back to his favourite place. It was sun breaking through the trees, and his records playing a familiar tune.
“Mom?” he whispered, and he found himself to be crying. She nodded, and he began to cry harder. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. His thumb passed through part of her arm, but he didn’t care. He cradled the back of her head, crying softly as she sobbed into his shoulder. Kennedy watched from the bed, smiling and tearing up himself. Linus waved him over.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to his dad. Kennedy shook his head, wrapping them both up in a hug. Linus felt the love and energy he felt whenever he hugged the children, and finally understood why he felt that way. He cried out all the confusion and frustration and loneliness he had felt growing up. They stood there for a full minute before his mom pulled back and kissed him all over his face, before stepping back and smoothing his sleeves.
“You’re such a handsome man,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Linus suits you much better. So smart.”
Linus started crying again, feeling relief wash over him. It was one thing for his fake mom to halfheartedly agree to his transition; it was another for his mom to say it was a good choice. He didn’t know what he was saying, but a stream of consciousness began to flow from his lips as he voiced all his worries about meeting them. How he had feared she would resent his choices and who he was.
“No, no, none of that,” she said, still holding his face. “I love you Linus. Names mean nothing if there isn’t someone to give them to.”
It was then that she noticed Arthur. Linus clocked the moment she did because they flashed to his left in a moment of surprise, before looking quizzical. Linus looked over his shoulder at Arthur, who looked a little sad, and reached out his hand. Arthur took it, maintaining eye contact with his mom.
“Um, this is my partner, Arthur,” Linus said, suddenly feeling nervous again. He wasn’t sure if he could tell her he was a phoenix, so he didn’t say anything.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Arthur said. He was pulling at his knuckles. Isla smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his cheek. She raised a brow and Arthur nodded. When her fingers made contact, Arthur gasped, and his chin dropped into her palm. Linus watched his eyes shut and his head went slack in her palm. Isla removed her hand, and Linus watched a dozen emotions wash over his face in a second. He picked out heart wrenching sorrow, and a moment of pure bliss.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Arthur,” she said with a soft smile. He just nodded, staring at her in awe, and Linus wondered if that was how he looked at Arthur. Isla then grinned at Linus, putting her hands on his shoulder. “We have to tell everyone that you’re home.”
Linus cocked his head. “Who’s ‘everyone’?”
Isla winked and walked past him, toward the door. “You’ll see.”
Kennedy followed behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Arthur took Linus’ hand and followed them outside. They reached the door as his parents reached the middle of the yard. The children paid them no mind. Then, Linus’ mom blew a kiss down the street. Nothing happened, and Linus tilted his head. Arthur wrapped his arms around Linus’ waist, resting his head on his shoulder. At the same time, the children turned to look at Isla, their focus drawn to her for a moment before they went back to playing.
Suddenly, almost at once, people started leaving their houses. They weren’t in trances or anything, but they were walking or jogging toward the house.
“Somethin’ happen, Isla?” her neighbour called from his porch. He didn’t look much older than Linus; he was short and stocky with black goat legs. Most likely a satyr, Linus concluded. His hooves were well manicured. When he saw Linus, his eyes widened. “Is that...”
Isla nodded and he jogged over, into the yard. He smiled, like he knew Linus, which unsettled him a little.
“Phillip,” he said. “But everyone calls me Philly. It’s great to see you, man.”
“Linus,” he responded. “And this is Arthur.”
He straightened at the sound of his name, the dopey grin leaving his face. He frowned, looking at Linus, then Isla, then processing what happened. Then he addressed the stranger in front of him. He continued looking puzzled as more people approached the house. He called the children to come to the porch, which they all did without a fuss. They seemed as disoriented and confused as he was.
“Are you feeling alright?” Linus asked. Arthur was still hovering at his shoulder, like he was waiting for something. He scowled at his own feet.
“Yes? I feel like I’m being...pulled toward you. What was it your mom just did?”
Linus shrugged. “She just...blew a kiss, and people started showing up.”
As he said that, more magical people began to show up. He noticed Philly’s family were on their porch; a satyr woman with blonde fur, blonde hair, and green eyes, and two little girls. The one on the left had black hair and fur. Her sister had mostly blonde fur, with a black patch on her right leg. The girls looked at their children with curiosity.
About twenty people in total showed up. Most of the people before them were presented as human, though they weren’t hiding their defining traits; a nymph woman let vines curl around her arms, and her hairline was tinged green. A fire sprite let their eyes remain their natural, active fiery state.
“As you all know,” Isla began. “My son was taken from me when he was only a baby. But, after years of searching and waiting for the right time...” She halted, swallowing and taking a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice wavered. “We’ve found him. If you have the time, I want to invite you all for a get-together tonight at this house. Bring food if you can, and incense if you can’t.” She winked. “I would like to formally welcome, Linus.”
There was lots of whooping and choruses of “welcome” and “we missed you”s ensued, Linus felt himself tear up again as Phillip spoke to Isla, saying that they could open the gate between their houses, so there was more space. People scattered at that point and started talking about what they could do on short notice. Some came up to Linus, welcoming him back. Others headed home with a plan to cook or bake food for the group. He noticed how one of the people in the crowd, a gangly, pale man, took out a piece of paper, wrote on it, and tossed it in the air. The piece duplicated itself, fluttering on the “breeze” toward select homes farther down the street.
Linus was swept up in congratulations and welcomes, and got briefly separated from Arthur, who was checking on the kids. Some of them looked confused, and a little afraid. To his surprise, Sal was interested in the crowd. Linus supposed he would understand the importance of the community they were witnessing. However, Linus himself was beginning to feel overwhelmed. He stepped back toward the porch, putting some distance between himself and the joyous crowd. A sudden heaviness settled over his mind, like a warm, wet blanket. He recognized that he needed a moment to process all that was happening; it had all happened so fast.
Isla sensed some kind of shift. “Alright, we’ll see you later, be back for 5.” Her voice was kind, but also stern, as though she was testing anyone to challenge her. She then began ushering them all inside. Before Arthur could stop them, the kids were in the house, finding places to sit and settle and perch. Theodore was on top of the fridge—which was shorter than Arthur was—and chirped down at Isla. Sal, ducking in through the doorway, stood awkwardly in the corner, looking at his feet; Arthur stood next to him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and speaking to him quietly. Lucy sat near Arthur’s feet, with David following suit. Phee made her comfortable on the floor with Chauncey. Linus felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down and saw Talia was looking up at him, eyes wide and round. He took her hand and smiled down at her.
“We don’t have much space,” Isla admitted. “I didn’t expect to have grandkids.” She winked at Arthur, who looked away and blushed. “But I am grateful, nonetheless. So, who am I looking at?”
They all spoke up at once, of course, other than David and Sal, who waited patiently. It took a few good minutes for Isla to attach names to the right faces. There was a moment of quiet before Lucy blurted out, “If you’re magic, does that mean Linus is magic? Or did you adopt a human?”
The second question resulted in an uproar of questions. Arthur made eye contact with Linus from across the room. In everything that had happened, Linus had forgotten to tell the kids that he was magical.
“Alright, kids, one at a time,” Arthur interjected, and they all quieted down. Linus took a breath and smiled.
“We don’t exactly know if I am magical,” Linus said carefully. He looked at Arthur, who had an oddly neutral expression. “As far as I’m aware, I have no magical abilities, so I would say I’m not.”
Linus looked to Arthur for approval, and managed to catch him frowning for a moment before his expression became neutral again. Lucy shrugged and, sated, turned to Isla.
“What do you see when you die?” he asked. Arthur’s eyes went wide, and he started to apologize, but Isla waved him off.
“I stay on this plane,” she said casually. “It’s good to ask uncomfortable questions, Lucy. Uncomfortable questions are the ones that make people think.”
Lucy grinned toothily. “That’s like what Arthur says!”
“Well, he’s a wise man.”
Arthur bowed his head, scuffing his shoe on the floor. Thalia let go of Linus’ hand, joining Lucy and David on the floor.
“Well, it’ll be an hour or so until everyone comes back,” Isla said. She turned to her kids, smiling widely. “You can go on out back. Kennedy has a project back there that he’s been keeping up all these years.”
Looking to Arthur and Linus for permission, the kids followed Kennedy through the kitchen, out the screen door out back. Isla stood, shuffling into the kitchen. Arthur watched the back door. Linus watched him examine the backyard from his vantage point.
“Backyard is blocked from the street,” said Isla. Arthur looked back to her, looking a little sheepish. “Kids around the neighbourhood play in our backyard. They like to...check in, sometimes, so we made high fences.”
Arthur sobered, his eyes flicking around the room as though to count them. “That’s...very thoughtful of you.”
Isla smiled. “It was Kennedy’s idea. He made the treehouse that was out back – said he wanted it for when we got Linus back. The kids noticed and asked to play in it, and it became a hang out spot. But when that many magical kids congregate...”
“DICOMY gets notified,” Arthur finished, taking a seat at the small table. Linus took a seat next to him. “I wasn’t aware there were such high concentrations of magical people in cities now.”
Isla smiled sadly, changing the topic. “Do either of you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Coffee?” She glanced at Arthur again, who wore stress on his face. “Whiskey?”
Arthur snorted. “I appreciate the offer, but water is fine. I doubt it would do anything.”
Isla poured two glasses of water, sitting across from them. Her brow furrowed as she looked at Linus, and he realized he had been staring off into space again.
“You’ve been quiet, honey,” she said. “We can cancel the party if you’re not feeling it.”
Arthur reached out and took Linus’ hand. Linus looked up in his eyes, searching his expression for a sign of not wanting to participate in the party. However, from what he knew of Arthur, and from his face, Arthur was up for it. Linus shook his head.
“No, it isn’t that, just...a lot of feelings today.”
Isla nodded slowly. The conversation died and they tuned in to the shrieks and giggles from the backyard. From where Linus was sitting, he caught a glimpse of Lucy and David climbing the side of the treehouse. Netting suspended beneath the treehouse, able to catch anyone who somehow fell out. It was well made, with two platforms; one about a foot, the next five feet up.
“So, orphanage master,” Isla said, breaking the silence. Her eyes settled on Arthur, and Linus caught a look of weariness in her eyes. “How’d you swing that?”
Arthur pursed his lips. Linus realized then that they had never talked about it in detail. He half turned to give Arthur his attention.
“Well, a few factors,” Arthur said. “A master's in education, for one. And then right place, right time. DICOMY wanted to try a new...” He paused looking at Linus as he picked his words carefully. “Initiative, to handle the kids like ours.”
Kids like ours. It almost distracted Linus from the conversation.
Isla nodded, grimacing. “They can’t get adopted, can they?”
Arthur just shook his head. Linus squeezed his hand. Being unable to adopt the children was a place of pain for Arthur.
“Okay, I’m done grilling you,” Isla said. As she spoke, Linus watched her entire body flicker to look like stained glass. “I need to get back in bed before tonight.”
“Do you need help?” asked Linus. Smiling, Isla seemed to humour him. He stood followed her over to her and Kennedy’s “room”. Linus helped her into bed, covered her and kissed her forehead. “Need anything?”
Isla smiled. “No, Linus. Thank you for humoring your father. I know he isn’t always the most...charismatic. I’m glad I’ve got to meet you.”
Linus nodded silently, sitting next to his mother until she drifted off. He left her side, heading over to the table, where Arthur was still thinking. As Linus sat down, Arthur looked up, and he was frowning.
“What’s wrong, love?” Linus asked, reaching out for him. Arthur absently placed his hand in Linus’.
“Why won’t you say you’re magical?”