Chapter Text
Lewis has been watching Arthur for a few days now. Since his path out of Tempo crossed with his flight towards it. He's in the Mystery Skulls van - the one he stole from him. But even a car can't stop his quest for vengeance.
But Arthur moves too quickly for him to catch. If he isn't driving, he's walking, and there are scant few moments he spends still in the van. Lewis is not so undignified as to do something like jump him in the bathroom, and he doesn't want to cause a scene by doing it somewhere public like a gas station, and he can't stop him in the van or he'll cause a crash, so the only option left is to bide his time.
But the way Arthur moves, you'd think he knew he was being hunted. Lewis is starting to worry that he's just going to do a huge lap around the state at this same frantic pace, and by the time he returns to Tempo (and protection, damn his cowardice) he won't have gotten a single chance to catch him.
And then finally - finally - he stops. Well and truly stops, pulled over on the side of the road with the engine completely dead. Lewis waits a little while, to make sure he's not moving, and then sends a deadbeat over to confirm that everyone's asleep. It returns a telepathic affirmation after only a few moments.
So he drifts forward, looking in the windshield first - no sign of anyone. He floats through the van, greeting his deadbeat with a pat, and looks in the backseat.
Arthur's curled up against the seatbacks, a pillow under his chest and a sleeping bag draped haphazardly over him. His hair is swept out of the way, and his face, at an odd angle, is cast in harsh shadows.
He looks... small. Maybe it's the gentle, innocent expression of his sleeping face, or the way he's pressed against the seats that dwarf him from this angle, or the thin limbs that poke out of the sleeping bag that doesn't perfectly cover him. But it feels like he's only part of a whole, like something else should be there.
It's then that he realizes that Arthur's alone in the van. And given how long he's been tailing him, the others probably aren't just out for a quick errand, either.
...So his murderer stole his friends from him, and then doesn't even want to keep them around? Disgusting. If he killed him just so he could steal a car-
Arthur twitches with a soft, complaining noise, and Lewis jumps despite himself. He reels back, ready to flee, and waits with bated breath until he determines that he's still asleep. And now he's tucking his head down to his collarbone in the way that means he'll be asleep for a while longer, as long as it stays quiet. He lets out the breath he's been holding.
Next he turns his attention to the rest of the van.
His first thought is that Arthur must've knocked one of Vivi's file stacks over. There are papers everywhere, strewn about the floor, some in folders or held down with weights and some just lying loose. He probably wasn't being careful - not used to managing the small space of the van - and bumped into one of the shelves, sending them crashing down.
Except. Except as he looks more closely, he realizes these aren't Vivi's. Notes have been taken on them, in a slanted half-cursive scrawl that doesn't look anything like hers. Arthur must have been keeping these files. But it's odd. How is he interested in ghost hunting, but not bothered to bring Vivi along with him? It must have been an extra effort to get her not to come. What is he after here?
He picks up a couple pages to look at more closely. An email printout from a client, that's dated to several weeks ago. Something about a traveling spirit that had taken up residence in their basement. A small note is made in that same handwriting, almost impossible to parse- actually, no, as soon as he tries, he can decipher it fine. It just looks messy. Probably not, it says.
The second paper is what looks like a warning from a park website. Apparently there's an area there where lost hikers have a habit of showing up, and they don't want people wandering into it without some sort of spiritual protection. A few sentences have been underlined, and at the bottom of the page it says I hope so.
There's a house that according to the police now has some kind of man-eating monster living in it, and it's prolonging demolition until they can get someone in to sort it out. People have been hearing screams from the woods at night. Someone's been speaking of a 'group' that meets at midnight, that apparently they only narrowly escaped from. Please no, Maybe? Worth a shot.
He sets the papers down and floats upward, taking in the whole scene. He was wrong again, he realizes - these haven't just been dropped. All the paper and folders radiate outwards from a central point, indicating they were laid out with some kind of purpose. He must have been sitting there, flipping through these. Making a mess of Vivi's van.
For monsters that would gladly devour his soul and body, given half a chance. But this isn't- these are... these are not the right kinds of cases. Vivi's a thrill-seeker, but she's not stupid, and she values her life. So Arthur's doing this alone, and-
-his heart drops. Is he looking for a way to get rid of Vivi, too?
That'd explain why he's out here alone, why he's cherry-picking the worst of the worst. He'll go pick up Vivi, tell her he's got a nice set of cases lined up, and then-
Ice burns at the edges of his heart. He can't let this happen.
But then Arthur stirs again, bringing a hand up to cover the side of his face with another unhappy sound, and Lewis retreats to the other side of the van, wary.
...He should go, before he wakes up and sees him. It'll probably be soon, and then he'll be ready to fight back, and... it'll be a mess. Better to leave now. There will be easier opportunities later, to catch him.
So he floats back out of the van and takes up a position across the road, watching and waiting, a patient hunter.
He doesn't keep track of time, but based on the sky, he'd guess it's been a few hours when something finally happens.
Arthur steps out of the back of the van- and then stumbles, swaying on his feet. He slumps back against the metal support, his eyes closing for a moment. His breaths are shaky; every one sounds like it's being dragged out of him, and his palms are flat against the car doors.
After a moment he hauls himself to his feet again, swallowing hard. "Come on," Lewis faintly hears him mutter. "S-s-save this shit fo- for after you find him. You got work to- to do."
Him? Him who?
Arthur's walking off now, armed with a flashlight and a backpack. Lewis has two options. He can follow him to whatever he's doing, or he can go back for Vivi and try to protect her when he picks her up.
He debates with himself for a moment. He doesn't like the thought of hanging around Arthur - there's something uncomfortable about it, a jarring sense that something's off that he can't pin down - but at the same time, he finds himself unwilling to leave.
Impulses are strange, but they haven't steered him wrong so far. He decides to trust his instinct, and stay. As Arthur walks across the road and down a small hiking trail, he follows.