Part Two: The Detective

[lestercraft]

Who: Arthur Lester and others
What: Recovering from the Forest Talkers (emotionally) and existing (generally)
When: October!
Where: Milton mostly

Content Warnings: General Malevolent warning (Lovecraftian horror etc) to S5

Comments

[afterdrop]

The injury doesn't go unnoticed, and Arthur's words confirm it, sending a jolt of panic through Charles' chest. You fucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up. It's that same insidious voice, the one that sounds like himself blended with his father, and for a moment he flinches away from it, head lowering. Arthur's tone doesn't contain a shred of anger, or even disappointment, but old habits.

"Sorry, it's- I'm-" You fucked up, you fucked up. "I'm sorry. I should've noticed it."

Or kept Arthur from coming here in the first place. Kept from meeting him in the first place, maybe.

"How- how can I help?"

I'll fix it, he hears. I'll make it better. And then, in another voice, sharp and cruel: You never made it better, and then you died.