Chapter Text
The letter arrives on a dreary Saturday morning.
It’s addressed to Arthur at the farmhouse, despite that not being where he lives, because the person who wrote it knows that’s where he’ll be. And Arthur would recognise that handwriting anywhere – large but neat, a sweeping cursive.
“He’s back”, he says.
“Oh? How wonderful!”
Janine Smith slips a plate of toast, eggs and bacon in front of him, a beaming smile on her round face. Her hair is streaked with grey, tied back in a messy bun, and Arthur loves her as though she were his actual mother. Her husband, Wilbur, a great bear of a man with a bushy moustache and beard, is already out tending to the wheatfields.
“Are you going to see him?” Janine asks.
Of course I am, Arthur thinks. Of course I bloody well am.
“Yeah”, he says. “I’ll go after breakfast”.
He sips on a glass of cold orange juice, reading and rereading the contents of the letter. It’s not much, barely half a page, but it says all it needs to say:
Dear Arthur,
I’m back! Time sure flies by, doesn’t it? In fact it might have flown by twice at some point, I’m pretty sure I accidentally stepped into a weird ripple in the fabric of reality while I was making my way through Spain. Anyway, do pop by, won’t you? We have so much to catch up on!
Warmest regards,
Smith
“Be sure to tell him Wilbur and I said hello”, says Janine, taking a seat at the table. “And…check he hasn’t done himself a mischief while he’s been gone”.
Well that’s one way of putting it.
“Sure”, Arthur replies.
A little while later Janine sees him off with a kiss on the cheek and the letter sits on the passenger seat as he drives away from the farm. Arthur feels a sense of trepidation building within him, nerves turning from caterpillars into butterflies in his stomach.
Two years.
It’s the longest time they’ve been apart since they first met on the school playground all those years ago. When Arthur, eight years old and with a bloody nose, his fair hair a mess, reached out to a little brunette boy with dark blue eyes and chased the bullies away.
“I’m Arthur, let’s be friends!”
He still remembers it with such perfect clarity.
“I’ll look after you, okay?”
How could he have known? How could either of them have known? It was a defining moment, he supposes. His life forever altered. No, not just his life. Their lives. And all these years later he still can’t quite decide if it was for better or worse.
He pulls up outside the apartment block and for a moment he just sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to work up the courage to go inside while telling himself that’s totally not, in fact, what he’s doing. Because he’s not scared, not in the slightest, he just…isn’t sure he’s prepared to face the man again. Face what seeing him again will mean.
A heavy sigh escapes his lips.
Arthur opens the door and makes his way into the building.
Up to the thirteenth floor and the door with the little plaque beside it:
Smith & Kelly: PIs
Paranormal, not private.
Arthur hesitates, then he knocks.
He hears the sound of someone scrambling around the apartment and then the door swings open and he’s greeted by a wildly grinning face.
“Arthur!”
Smith envelopes him in a tight hug and then, before Arthur can reciprocate, he pulls back and narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Arthur carefully.
“Wait, is this real?” Smith asks. “I’m not hallucinating again, am I? Or is this some sort of government trick? I’m telling you I never went anywhere near Area 51 and disguising yourself as my best friend won’t make me talk!”
“Smith, relax”, Arthur says, shaking his head and holding up the letter, “it’s really me”.
Smith. Always just Smith. He claims it’s to preserve some badass and cool aura of mystery he believes he has, which Arthur thinks is just bullshit but he goes with it anyway. First name usage will just get him ignored.
“Come in, come in!”
Smith practically drags him inside. The apartment is crammed full of knick-knacks and trinkets. Ornaments and masks and boxes and stack upon stack of books. A baseball bat leaning against the wall by the door bears a cardboard tag reading: WARNING! HIGHLY CURSED!
Nothing has changed and neither has Smith. His eyes are framed by thick square glasses and he’s clothed in a baby blue short sleeved shirt and a bright red bow tie, just like he was before he left. He’s as scrawny as ever too, which Arthur is a little disappointed by because he’d hoped Smith might actually gain some weight whilst on his vacation.
“Your parents say hi”, Arthur says.
“Oh yes, I must give them a call at some point”, Smith muses. “I hope they’ve been treating you well while I was gone!”
“They always do”, Arthur points out. “And Janine wants to know if you got hurt at all”.
“Bah!” Smith waves his hands dismissively. “A few minor scrapes and a new scar, but nothing serious. I’m much more interested in knowing how you’ve been, Arthur!”
“A new scar?”
Smith drapes an arm across Arthur’s shoulders and waggles his thick eyebrows.
“Come on, did you get up to any wild adventures without me?”
What aren’t you telling me? Arthur wonders bitterly.
“No”, he says, “I didn’t. I got an office job. Something normal and safe”.
“Bo-ring~!”
“Maybe”, Arthur says, “just maybe, I actually enjoy not having to run for my life every other afternoon. Did you consider that?”
“But that’s the best part!”
“You would say that”.
“I would”, Smith agrees, nodding. “And I did”.
Arthur rolls his eyes and sits himself down on Smith’s battered looking couch. How many days (and equally as many nights) did he spend sitting here, going over case files? Sorting through paperwork and photographs and bills.
“I assume you did plenty of running on your trip, then?”
“Oh, heaps of it!”
Smith jumps over the back of the couch and plops himself down, his legs sprawling across Arthur’s. Arthur could shove him away but he doesn’t.
“Running’s not the same without you, though”, Smith continues. “Nudge, nudge, wink, wink”.
Arthur’s brow creases.
“I told you, I’ve got an office job now”.
“True. How’s that been for your noggin, anyway? Feeling any better?”
Smith leans over, ruffling Arthur’s hair. Arthur swats his hand away and tries to neaten the mess he’s made, but his hair doesn’t want to cooperate.
“I’m fine”, he replies stiffly.
“So no spooks then? No beasties that go bump in the night? Not even an alien or two?”
“The thing is, Smith”, Arthur says, “if you don’t go looking for the paranormal then you’re far less likely to find it. And I did my very best not to look. Like, at all. For my own sake”.
Smith looks like his brain is struggling to compute this information.
“So you don’t even want to do one single case?” He asks, poking Arthur in the arm. “One itty bitty teeny weeny tiny little case?”
He flutters his eyelashes and Arthur slumps back against the cushions.
“I want to hear about what you’ve been up to”, he says. “It’s been two years, Smith, and I know damn well you’ve probably gotten involved in all sorts of crazy shit. I came to discuss that, not talk about getting back into the business”.
“Yes, yes, I had all sorts of fun”, Smith replies dismissively. “I wrote all about it in several journals, in fact. You can read them if you want. Actually that reminds me, I had no idea how strict airports have become. Honestly, you try and bring one mildly cursed artefact through security and suddenly everyone’s in an uproar!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Smith…”
Smith barks a laugh.
“How I missed your cranky-pants attitude, Arthur!”
Arthur blinks, looking down at the legs on his lap.
“…You missed me?” He asks.
“Well of course I did!” Smith replies cheerfully. “Did you miss me?”
Heat rises to Arthur’s face, dusting his cheeks. He looks away and swallows heavily. How many days did he spend regretting that he hadn’t gone with Smith, despite knowing it was for the best? How many nights did he spend lying awake, staring at the ceiling, trying and failing not to worry?
“It was very quiet without you”, he says by way of a non-answer.
Smith laughs again and then claps his hands together.
“Oh, I nearly forgot! I got you a present!”
Arthur’s lap is freed as his friend jumps to his feet, the old couch creaking in protest. He watches as Smith ducks into the bedroom for a moment before returning with something clasped in one hand. He leans over the couch and holds it out to Arthur proudly.
“Tada~!”
It appears to be a small figure carving, around the size of a ping-pong ball and made from smooth grey stone. It looks sort of like a man sitting down and hugging his knees, but it’s hard to tell. It could just as easily be a weird bird or a strangely patterned egg.
“Uh…?” Arthur murmurs uncertainly as he takes it, holding it closer to his face in the hopes that he’ll be able to decipher just what it is.
“Charming little thing, isn’t he?” Smith says with a grin. “See, basically I got stuck on a deserted island for a bit. Long story, I’ll tell you about it later. Anyway, at some point I found this fella and what do you know? Shortly after I got rescued! Probably had nothing to do with him to be fair but I still think there’s something special about him”.
Arthur can feel a headache coming on. This man will be the death of him.
“Smith…”
His fingers curl around the little man/bird/egg that has travelled countless miles with Smith and somehow survived. His hand bobs up and down a few times as though he’s debating what to do with it, then he lets out a gentle sigh and nods.
“Thanks”.
“I knew you’d like it!” Smith exclaims, planting his hands on his hips. “Ah, you know it really is good to be home. I can’t wait to get back into the swing of things!”
He smiles broadly and shoots a meaningful look at Arthur. Arthur, in turn, frowns and runs the pad of his thumb over the cold stone of the little figure. Then he slips it into his trouser pocket and huffs because he knew this would happen. He’s never been able to say ‘no’ to Smith. Or at least, he’s never been able to say it and actually mean it.
“One case”, he says at length, holding up a finger to further drive home that he really does mean only one. “That’s it. And only because I’m due some time off anyway”.
“Excellent! I’ll get the news out that we’re back in business!” Smith declares. “And then I’ll start drafting up an ad for a new assistant so you can retire to your office job in peace. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to find someone”.
Arthur’s stomach churns. Oh, he does not like the idea of someone else – some stranger – working with Smith. Someone who doesn’t understand him or knows how to handle him. Who doesn’t have their history. Yeah, Arthur left for a reason. Yeah, his mental health was in the shitter. But a new assistant? Someone who isn’t him?
Standing up, Arthur finally hugs Smith back. It takes the other man by surprise, but within seconds Smith is all smiles again and eagerly returning the gesture. He’s unfazed as always while Arthur’s heart feels like it’s racing to do a thousand beats a minute. He has the sneaking suspicion he’s making a big mistake, but he knows the bigger mistake would be to walk away.
And really, how bad could a single case be?
(He should know better, he really should).