Artie: Apologizing to Pete and Myka

[moonshadows]

The footsteps approaching from behind weren’t really a surprise. When Pete sat on the park bench next to him without a word, not even looking at him, it wasn’t a surprise either. Artie reached into the plastic bag at his side and passed the younger man a hoagie still in its wrapper.

“My first year at the Warehouse,” Artie began quietly as Pete unwrapped his sandwich, “the first artifact that nearly killed me, belonged to a Cult of Dionysus. James and I were investigating reports of missing people, mostly women. The cult leader had this silly-looking scepter, looked like a stick with a pinecone on it. Without thinking, without gloves, I grabbed it out of his hand.” He paused, fingers twisting a used napkin. “I woke up, months later, in a medical detox facility feeling like death warmed over, with James sitting by my bed. He was always getting on me about not wearing gloves, but that day he was too relieved – I’d come very close, too close, to dying – for him to even say I told you so. It was a bifurcated artifact, and until they found the matching cup and had me drink from it…I was the new cult leader. I don’t think I had a single sober minute in the months it took them to find it. Haven’t touched a drop since.”

Pete swallowed and glanced at him, fearful and concerned.

“I remember what I said to you,” Artie said heavily, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away in shame. “I remember…everything. It’s jumbled and warped, but it’s there. You’re not an idiot, but sometimes you remind me a little too much of me, when I was an idiot. I’m still an idiot sometimes. How many years did I waste not talking to my father? I…probably have a child, somewhere. Several of the cult women were pregnant when the artifacts were neutralized. It’s more than likely that one of them is mine, and I’m too much of a coward to even confirm it. I’m not father material. I’m terrified of messing up someone else’s life the way I messed up my own.”

“Artie…”

“Your father would be proud of you. I know because your mother is proud of you, and because I’m proud of you. The evil inside me…it didn’t say those things just to hurt you. It said them to hurt me, too. To push you, and Myka, and Claudia, away because it knew…how much I care about all of you. It wanted to destroy everything I love. In Rapid City, Alice said to me that true suffering is knowing what lies just beyond your grasp but never being able to reach it. The evil…it wanted to make sure that even if it was somehow defeated, I would never have your trust and respect again.”

“Yeah, well, it failed there,” Pete said harshly. “You knew I’d find you. You had my favorite hoagie ready. And after that story you told? I respect you even more. So there, the evil failed. It’s a big failure poopy-head.”

Artie chuckled. “I’ve never told that story. The only ones who know it are the ones who were there, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go…spreading it around.”

“Hey, no problemo.” Pete made a lip-zipping, key-tossing gesture. “So, uh, you got a sandwich in there for Mykes? ‘Cuz we split up to look for you and it won’t take her long to find you here.”

“Nope, no sandwich, and she’s not going to find me here because you-” he pulled a waxed-paper bag of cookies out of the plastic bag and handed them to Pete, who accepted them with an ooh, “-are going to take these and tell her you think you saw me in the coffee shop. That’s where she’ll find me.”

“You are the man, Arti-mus.” Pete took another bite of his hoagie. “I’ll see you back at the B and B later. Right?”

Artie sighed, unable to completely hide his smile. “Yes, alright, fine. Now get out of here, and give me time to get settled before you tip Myka off.”

“You got it; I’ll tell her I got hungry. Hey, Artie?”

He paused in the middle of standing up.

“I’m glad you’re back. Leena’s aura, or echo, or whatever, led me to H.G.’s info on the dagger. I think…she knew it wasn’t you, and I think she wanted to help you,” Pete finished quietly.

Artie closed his eyes for a long moment, wrestling with fresh grief. When he opened them again, Pete was gone.

 

At the very last outdoor table, Artie was sipping his caramel frappuccino with vanilla sprinkles and soy whip when Myka sat down across from him.

“Artie, where have you been? Pete and I have been looking all over for y- what’s that?” she asked as he pushed a second cup over to her.

“Large Americano with an extra shot and room,” he answered calmly, reaching into a white paper bag. “Scone?”

Eyes wide, she searched his face. “Artie, what’s wrong? The last time you were this nice to me, I was in Warehouse Two taking the test of the soul and you were a hallucination.”

He sighed. “If I were to list everything that’s wrong, we’d still be here next week. How about we start with what I said to you in the museum?”

“That wasn’t you,” she said immediately.

“Semantics,” he muttered. “It was my body, I inherited the memories, and the words hurt because you respect my opinion and you know they were partially true. That’s what made them hurt worst of all.”

There was nothing to say to that; Myka sipped her drink.

“You usually are the smartest one in the room,” he said, toying with the scone. “If anything were to happen to me, the Warehouse would be in good hands because you would step right into my shoes. The problem is that if you did that, you would step into my shoes and end up alone. Look at me, Myka. I gave decades of my life to the Warehouse and I don’t regret it, but I also won’t deny that it’s a very lonely road. I want you to get more out of life than just satisfaction in a job well done, and so do you.”

“Then where am I supposed to get it?” she asked warily.

Artie bit into his scone to hide a small smile. “Remember the time we nearly died to an artifact corrupting a building so that it was crumbling around us?”

“Of course.”

“What would you have done differently, if you were head of Regent security?”

“Well, first, I’d make sure all my men recognized the agents who actually work at the Warehouse.” Myka huffed at the memory. “I can understand needing secrecy, but if the people guarding the Regents don’t know who the Warehouse agents are, that kind of defeats the purpose of having everyone in the same organization. We should have been recognized, and informed that there were Regents in the building, so we could let them know the location was compromised from the start. There should have been an emergency extraction plan already in place, especially considering the recent Regent deaths. And I think the people protecting the Regents should be open to the possibility of artifact use and able to think outside the box rather than being stiff and dogmatic and…and…” Angrily, she took a drink of her coffee. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not,” he protested. “I’m smiling because you’re just proving my point.”

“And what point would that be?”

He broke another bite off the scone. “That you’d be a better head of Regent security than whoever’s in the position right now.” Faintly smug, he chewed while she thought about that. “You’re very observant,” he pointed out between bites. “You know that. You’re also a good judge of character. Yes, H.G. tried to destroy civilization in a time of extreme emotional trauma, but it was a plea for help and you heard it. A-a-and maybe if I hadn’t been so relentlessly hostile towards her for killing James, she might not have even tried to do it.”

Myka reached across the table and gripped his hand reassuringly.

“During the day I erased with the astrolabe, she gave her life to save you, me, and Pete when Sykes’s bomb went off and destroyed the Warehouse. And you got yourself arrested to give Pete and me cover getting in to retrieve it. You were the one to unravel the clues as to where it was, and you were the one to figure out we needed to defuse Sykes, not the bomb. You are an incredibly valued member of this team, Myka, and I…” Artie wrapped both hands around his cup, gaze buried in melting foam. “I’m a bitter, broken old man who’s so used to doing my job alone while walling off grief that I don’t give you – any of you – the recognition and praise you deserve.”

“That just makes it more special when we get it,” she replied softly.

“I push people away because I’ve seen too many people I care about die. I don’t open up because I’ve had my trust too badly betrayed. And I don’t ask for help because for too long, there hasn’t been anyone I could rely on.”

Please, he thought, eyes closed, please put the pieces together.

Silence.

“Pete didn’t just happen to see you while waiting in line for a hoagie,” Myka said challengingly. “You were waiting for him, the way you were waiting for me. You wanted to talk to him alone, the way you wanted to talk to me alone.”

He didn’t bother trying to deny it. “Yes.”

More silence. Still not looking up from his cup, he took a long drink. Then, softly, Myka said, “You remember everything.”

Artie closed his eyes, trying not to see Leena. “Yes.”

Scraping, footsteps, and then Myka was leaning down to hug him. “Thank you,” she whispered before standing up. “So, um, see you back at the B and B later?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to…” A vague wave at the scone and a half still undevoured. “…catch up on…eating. It was a rough couple of days.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was. But you made it out in one piece, and I’m really glad you did because I think if we’d lost both Leena and you, it would have broken us all.” She sniffled while the bite of scone in his mouth lost all its flavor. “If you ever want to talk…”

He nodded, eyes shut again, and swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Alright. See you, Artie.”

He didn’t open his eyes until he couldn’t hear her footsteps anymore.