Chapter Text
Home.
Arthur had alot to say about ‘home’.
It was comfortable, cozy, warm and, importantly, something to call your own or share with people you love.
But Arthur lived alone, which means ‘home’ became a place to hide. A place he could stay without taking joy or, on the occasion he had to take some, could hide throughout the withdrawal.
Arthur loved his home.
It had been weeks since he had stepped through his front door, he hopes Sparky is ok.
He let out a sigh of relief when he approached his gecko’s tank, did you know geckos could survive up to 4 weeks without food? Arthur sure didn’t!
He grabbed a bag of mealworms and began feeding his pet, giving him a little mountain in the corner of the tank and whispering a soft “Sorry!” to the greedy lizard.
Arthur inspected his house, a slight layer of dust covered everything. He hadn’t realised how bare the place was.. he knows he wasn’t robbed, it just felt.. big. Nothing was askew or out of place.
In fact nobody had been here at ALL for the last 3 weeks. He supposes that’s a good thing. Maybe Sparky enjoyed the peace and quiet?
He decided to get some rest, to refresh himself and pray that Miss Byng would allow him to return to his job.
He made his way to his bed, he missed a comfy mattress..
It didn’t take long after his head fell onto the pillow until he fell into the best sleep he would ever have.
He dreamt that night, of Ollie, him and Sally staring at the stars during one of their many sleepovers. He remembered the shapes Ollie had told them of and how he taught them to navigate using the stars. He remembered how happy and peaceful those days were.
He was rather rudely pulled from his dreams by his ‘Uncle Jack’ alarm clock with a morning broadcast.
He groaned, he didn’t want to get up at all.. but he has things to do, people to see yada yada..
Time to face Miss Byng.
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He walked the way back to his house, Miss Byng had taken that rather well.. something about her always unsettled him, even before the piñata incident.
He had made a plan of what to tell her, he had ‘been on holiday’ and came back to resume working...
And she bout it!
Flaming hell, does Joy really make us that naive? ..or just too forgiving...
Would we forgive a murderer if he showed up and asked to get back to work because he was sorry..?
Arthur paused his train of thoughts, his eyes falling, he crossed his arms sadly.
“Oh” He muttered, “I just described myself.. didn’t i?”
It’s not like he even wanted this! Apologising to corpses was never something Arthur ever thought he would do, let alone be the one who caused them to become corpses.
You did what you had to
He told himself
but did i really? After all that fuss the bloody bridge collapsed... im no further out of Wellington wells than i was 3 weeks ago...
He must have been hiding his feelings rather terribly as he began to get strange looks and ‘Are you alright’s’ from the Wellies, he simply greeted them with a beaming smile and continued his way down the street.
“Stop it Arthur, keep your head clear... dont- not here..” he scolded himself. He kept to himself as he walked, offering the occasional comment on the weather to passerby’s who greeted him happily.
Then suddenly... the air shifted.. something felt off.
His instincts were right.
As if on cue, out from the alleyway stumbled a drunk man, at least Arthur assumed he was drunk... He looked.. wrong.
The man looked like he was having trouble staying upright, shouting curses and waving his arms frantically. He carried a broken bottle in his right hand... it looked like he was growing increasingly agitated. It was an odd sight, even the Wellies backed away in hesitation. Arthur scoffed, if it was me, i’d have been beaten to a pulp!
The man began hurling stones at pedestrians as an old lady screamed for help. She seemed to startle the man, who lurched towards her. Arthur ran to her, this man was clearly out for blood!
The man raised his bottle to stab him, Arthur easily held the hand back and began to struggle.
The man, hardly able to comprehend the situation, shouted at Arthur and slurred “W‘ht the fuck d’ you th’nk you’re do’ng!”
Arthur had slowly move backwards to prevent the man’s body weight from overcoming him, he was becoming increasingly harder to fight. Arthur’s smaler frame couldn’t handle it and he was eventually pushed to the ground.
Oh god
Im so dead
It was then he heard it, a shout from the end of the small street he was on. “Oi! You, Stop right there!”
The voice was followed by the sound of running and before he could blink, the man was pulled off him and promptly hit accross the face with a batton. Arthur felt an odd relief upon seeing the bobby.. especially after that whole downer business.
He sat there, stunned for a moment, as the bobby lay in his last hit on the downer, crushing his skull and killing him.
Brutal..
The bobby was kind enough to help Arthur up and check him for injuries, Arthur was relieved to know he had none, his clothes however had gotten rather dirty. The crowd had cheered them on, earning Arthur a few pats on the back and a jolly good ‘well done’ from the bystanders. The old lady offered him a bottle of the newly flavoured ‘Coconut Joy’ of which Arthur accepted with a hesitant “you can never have too much joy” before the whole town was inviting him to tea parties.
Way to lay low Arthur, you just became talk of the town...
The bobby was the last who remained. There was something about him... the bobby took Arthur’s hand in his bloodstained one and spoke, “Are you alright sir? That was quite the scuffle you found yourself in”
Arthur grew nervous, trying to douse any suspicion, he squeaked “Y-yes Constable, im actually rather dandy!” Oh shit that came out much weaker than he’d wanted.
The bobby looked him up and down and decided he didn’t quite believe that answer, but he chose not to press further. Instead, keeping hold of Arthur’s hand, the bobby led him out of the street. “Alright mister uh...” he trailed off, waiting for Arthur to fill in the blank.
After a moment Arthur stated, “Oh yes! Right.. im uh, Arthur, Arthur Hastings!”
The bobby’s smile grew at that, “Alright then Mr Hastings, let’s get you home!”
Arthur was not going to refuse help from a bobby, he was too scared they’d see it as a sign he wasn’t ‘happy’ with the help and pen him as a possible downer.
Which meant bad business.
And so he directed the bobby down the winding streets of the Parade. Finally the Constable turned to him and began a conversation. “Look at all them flowers out in full bloom, lovely things they are!” Of course Arthur couldn’t see them...to him they were leaves on the cobblestone that made up the city nevertheless he replied “Ah.. yes! Very pretty.. bright even!” He flashed a smile towards the Constable, whose features softened at that.
“By the way Mister Hastings, you can call me Constable Morland! Just incase you ever need us’ is all.”
Arthur offered a small “Nice to meet you, Constable Morland.” And they continued onwards.
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It wasn’t too long after he found himself at his doorstep, one foot in the door, he realises he’s forgotten his manners. Spinning around, Arthur asks “Would... Would you like to come in for a quick spot of tea, Constable?” He began gesturing to his half opened door.
“Not at all Mr Hastings! I have a job to do after all!” He beamed at Arthur, handing him a bobby whistle. “You’ve earned this Mr Hastings, take it as a thank you for being such a good samaratin and whatnot.” The bobby began to turn away, before hesitating.
Odd, never seen a bobby do that before.
Almost as soon as the thought finished, the bobby had turned to face him. He looked surprisingly rather.. timid...
“Oh and uh.. I do hope to see you around sometime, Mr Hastings! Well.. Cheerio!” He exclaimed, tilting his hat and walking down the street, heading in the direction they had come from.
Arthur hurriedly got inside his house, closing the door and leaning his back on it in relief. He slowly peaked out of the window in the direction of the bobby... who was no longer there. Arthur sighed and got ready for bed.
He did not notice the bobby taking one final glance at him from the street corner, before heading back on patrol.