moonshadows

((This takes place in Artie's first few months in the Warehouse and is based off his line in the pilot that in his first year, the Warehouse was crawling with ferrets.))

He was three aisles away before the kettle bumped his hip in a way he would have characterized as being hopeful if he weren’t vehemently denying such things. Before he could stop himself, he wished the damn thing would leave him alone, and closed his eyes in a long-suffering sigh even before the kettle’s weight shifted in his hand and the tiny chirp-squeak of yet another ferret echoed from inside it.

There were days Artie Nielsen didn’t mind his job. This was not one of them.

Stiffly, the effort of keeping his mind blank translating to restricted motion, he removed the ferret and dunked the damn thing – the kettle, not the animal – in the nearest neutralizing station. He debated leaving the ferret to its own devices, but experience had taught him that didn’t end well. At best, it ended with him on his hands and knees, picking ferret poop out from under the shelves. Hopefully, he thought as he resumed his interrupted journey, he could get the little beast outside before anyone saw it. He’d have to come back and re-shelve the damned kettle later.

“Another ferret, Arthur?”

Luck was not with him. He sighed again. “Yes, James, another one.”

“Haven’t I told you-”

“Not a word, James.” Artie grabbed the ferret a bit tighter than was absolutely necessary and kept stalking towards the office. He would feel guilty about the slightly-pained squeak if he didn’t know the ferret was only a construct that would fade out of reality in a few months.

James wasn’t going to let it go. “Arthur, you know you need to wear gloves to handle the artifacts. Especially that one.”

“I didn’t pick it up!” The echoes of his shout informed him exactly how much louder that exclamation was than he’d intended. “I wasn’t anywhere near it. It just…”

“Arthur, when are you going to accept that you have to take precautions with these things?”

The calm, reasoning tone his partner habitually used grated on Artie’s guilty nerves. He did know he should be wearing gloves. He even had some in his pocket. “You don’t have to,” he grumbled, still not looking at James.

“I can’t eat spicy foods. Hugo can’t go out in the sun without broiling like a lobster. And you, partner, can’t handle artifacts without gloves because you’re unusually receptive to tangential energy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” And a fat lot of good it had done him.

“It’s a gift,” James insisted. “You can tell more about an artifact than anyone else here. You should embrace the benefit rather than cursing the cost.” When there was no response, he put a hand on Artie’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you smuggle it outside.”

Artie sighed. “Thank you, James.”

Next time, he thought. Next time, he’d make sure he was wearing gloves.