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Safety. Safety was not what Arthur Lester had. Safety was a fleeting memory. One where you might smell it, on a rainy Thursday, walking past a bakery. One where you might wake up from a dream, and realize that's what you were dreaming of, the feeling still lingering on your mind. And One that Arthur had to hold on to, because if he lost that distant memory he would never get it back. He clutched to those safe moments when they slipped through his fingers, like a fine sand.
He realized how much of this had already slipped away when he forgot Faroes favorite animal. Maybe it was a cat, or maybe ducks, or maybe something made up like a unicorn. It Didn't matter what it could be, it only mattered that Arthur didn't know. The more he thought about his life before it went to shit, the second time, the more he realized he was missing. He forgot what brand of pomade Parker used to put in his hair. He knew it was oily, and had a distinct smell, that Arthur always playfully groaned and complained about whenever Parker did his hair. He forgot Bella’s favorite type of donut from the bakery on the corner, maybe jam filled? Bck then things were so simple, so safe.
What he had now was not safe. He had opened a book, that had let a parasite into his mind. The bastard had taken his hand, but he nipped that in the bud. Life was far easier than he had thought it would be, just using his right arm. He could still shoot, he could still kill, he could still run.
He had enjoyed killing that maintenance man, what was his name? Edgar? Elijah? It didn't matter, not really. He was dead, stuck in the closet with Parker, and with his last bit of safety.
Those first few days had been rough. He had no control, with that bastard constantly pulling him in every direction like a puppet. He had started killing just to have a say in what happened to him. He had killed many, many, cultists. Slit their throats, shot them, stabbed them. He was almost sad he couldn't see the look in their eyes. But control was not safety.
When they strapped him to that table, he felt a creature unlike any other stare back at him, he was surprised. Even more so when this thing, this god, said it would take away the parasite. What option was there, other than to say yes? He thought it would give him safety back, even if he had to cover up Parker’s death he could go back to solving cases, making their people safe. It didn’t.
He had gotten his sight back, but what did it matter? The bastard had decided to cast him off of earth. Stuck in a desert wasteland. He lost an eye to a sandstorm. A finger to the trees, a few times he was sure he would have died from blood loss if not for the fact that his arm was already gone. It was so fucking miserable.
Then he met Kayne.
The charming dazzling man he was. He had only talked with him for a few moments, but he stayed on his head. Like red wine on a white sofa. He stuck. They way he had called Arthur ‘Darling’. The way he was so effortlessly powerful, even barefoot wearing a bloody suit. The cruelty that showed through the cracks. When he grabbed Arthur’s shoulder and smiled that crisp white smile and said ‘do try and stay warm’ before whisking him back to earth, to Addison.
It was easy, killing uncle, or jack, as Wallace had called him. He didn't care what, or who it was. All he cared about was how good it felt to kill him. Feel his brain in his hands, and the warmth of blood splattered on his face, the sweet taste of it on his lounge, coating his teeth, and his lips. He hoped Larson had known whose blood it was when Arthur smiled at him. It would be nice to know. But he couldn't. Larson was dead. The knife Arthur had used was dull, and pulled loud, terrified screams from Larson as he was. At least the rich bastard had clothes that fit Arthur. Made him a bit useful. Not to mention the many cars he had, waiting like a gift.
Arthur had had an easy time renting an apartment, theft was easy when you had quick wits and a fast hand, something Arthur did not lack in the slightest. Just a few wallets taken and he had three months worth of rent. But he wasn’t that low. He wouldn't just be a Pickpocket.
New York had powerful people, who couldn't be bothered to get off their asses and get their hands dirty, it pissed Arthur off. But he couldn't complain. Gave him jobs to do. The jobs paid quite well, soon he was known by many. He was up there with The Butcher, who he had once ran into on the job. He had attacked first. A stupid move, thinking back on it. And the butcher fought back, nearly killing Arthur, probably would have, if he hadn't seen Arthur's sparkling Smile as the knife was held to his throat. All the Butcher did was stick his knife in the floor, flash a smile, and leave. Humming some tune Arthur was only slightly familiar with.
The money just came and came, easy jobs, and some slightly harder. But money is money, and soon Arthur had enough to furnish his apartment With a piano. He couldn't play anymore, of course. All he had was his right hand. What was a melody without its base? Still, it was nice to have, and see if he could still remember some of his songs. It was during one of these piano sessions that there was a knock at his door. Probably a letter, from some well off asshole wanting a fairly innocent man dead, easy case, easy target, and easy money. He looked through the peephole to see a man. He opened it, and he was right. It was a man. The same man he had talked to in the dreamlands, all those months ago. With his presence, Arthur got drunk off that wine stain.
“Heya artie” the man said.
“Mr… Mr Kayne "Arthur had sputtered.
He chuckled, “Oh, I missed you.”
“Come in” he stepped away from the doorway.
“Well, aren't you polite for a killer.” Arthur was still stunned when he heard the man sit down on his couch, crossing a leg over another. Arthur sat on the other side of the couch, and eyed him cautiously.
“Why are you here?”
“Oh, am I not allowed to come visit my favorite moral!?” Kayne brought a hand to his chest, in fake offense.
“What?”
“God, Arthur asks The same questions” Kayne smiled and shook his head.
“Who?”
“Who!?” Kayne mocked “Arthur! You, but not you, I can't tell if I like him or you better, only time will tell, but I barely have any time. Arthur’s about to treat a serial killed like a dog. So I should get going! See you soon sweetheart!” And with that he was gone. The only proof that it was not just some hallucination, was the bloody footsteps on his hardwood. Arthur didn't mind, he had cleaned up a lot of blood in his life.
The next Time Arthur met Kayne he had just killed some politicians brother, who was going to spill secrets about him, he had fought back slightly, but nothing Arthur couldn't handle. Arthur had just made a call, saying that the job was done, and was told he would receive Payment in just two days. He had walked into his apartment to find Kayne sitting in his armchair.
“You have gotten less sloppy” he said, hand on his chin, covered in blood, like usual.
“What-” Arthur said, startled.
“Just a bit of blood under your fingers, nothing a good scrub can't fix”
“Why are you here?”
“Can't I stop in to say hi?” He stretched his arms.
“I… I suppose.”
“Good!” kayne stood up with a slight jump.
He walked to the piano and sat on the bench. Laying his fingers over the keys gently.
“So did you decide who you liked more?” Arthur as he began to wash his hand in the kitchen sink.
Kayne begen to Play a soft Melody on the piano, and Arthur stopped. He knew that song, he had written that song back when things were safe.
“I always liked this one, you were a good composer, you know?”
“How do you know that…”
“Artie I know everything about you” Kayne stood up and started walking over to Arthur. “I know that you will never forgive yourself for letting Bella die alone, and for letting Faroe die alone, I know that you never loved Bella, and that Bella never loved you”
“What!?”
“I know that you wanted to drink yourself To death and when that didn't work, of the fedt few months of detective work you realy hoped something would just kill you.”
“Shut up.” arthur said, even though it was all true.
“You know, Arthur did the same thing when he got back to Addison, but that was more when he got Johnny back.” Kayne had come around him and put a hand on Arthur shoulder, squeezing slightly. “It's alright arthur.”
“No it's not” he stared at the ground.
“No it not,” Kayne took Arthur’s chin in his hand.
Arthur leaned into the touch, not having had any in a while. Tears bloomed in his eyes like a wound. Feeling Kanye's hand on his face slick with blood like they always were.
“You're so wonderful like this.” Kayne moved his hand so he could hold, Arthur’s face, “I wish I could have been there with you when you killed for the first time”
Arthur opened his tired eyes to look into Kaynes. “Shut up.”
Kayne moved his hands off of Arthur, stepping back. The space between them felt like miles.
“No-“ Arthur said in protest.
“Say sorry, Artie.” Kayne said, his voice sweet, as if he were correcting a child for misbehaving.
“I'm sorry,” Arthur whispered.
Kayne stepped closer, pulling Arthur into a close, and bloody, hug. Arthur's chin rested on Kaynes shoulder.
“Good boy”
This was the closest to safe, Arthur had been in a long, long time.