Lucy nodded. “I get bad dreams, sometimes.”
“I do too.”
“You do?”
Linus shrugged. “It’s part of being alive, I think. But even if you have bad dreams, you must remember they’re only that: dreams. You will always wake from them. And they will fade, eventually. I’ve found that waking from a bad dream brings a sense of relief unlike anything else in the world. It means what you were seeing wasn’t real.”
“I broke my records,” Lucy said bitterly. He stepped away from Arthur, wiping an arm across his face. “I loved them so much, and now they’re broken.” He stared pathetically down at the shards of shiny black plastic on the floor.
“None of that,” Linus admonished. “These were only the ones on your wall, correct?” He walked farther into the room and crouched down next to Lucy, picking up a piece of broken record.
“Not all of them,” Lucy said. “Some of them were ones I listened to. They were even my favorites.”
“Can I tell you something?”
Lucy nodded, staring down at his records.
Linus picked up another piece. It looked as if it fit with the piece he already had. He pushed them together in front of Lucy. They went together perfectly, making a whole. “When something is broken, you can put it back together. It may not fit quite the same, or work like it did once before, but that doesn’t mean it’s no longer useful. Look, see? A bit of glue and a bit of luck, and it’ll be right as rain. Why, hanging on your wall, you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.”
“But what about the ones I listen to?” Lucy asked with a sniffle. “The ones on the walls were scratched already.”
Linus hesitated. But before he could think of anything to say, Arthur beat him to it.
“There is a record store in the village.”
Linus and Lucy looked up at him. “There is?” Lucy asked.
Arthur nodded slowly. He had a strange expression on his face. “There is. We could go there, if you’d like.”
Lucy wiped his eyes again. “Really? You think that’d be okay?”
“I do,” Arthur said. He stood slowly. “I think that’d be just fine. Perhaps we could make a day of it. All of us.”
“Even Mr. Baker?”
“If he’s amenable,” Arthur said, sounding amused. “Perhaps he’d like to pick out records with you, since you both have an affinity for music. Your tastes far exceed my own.”
Lucy whirled around, face brightening. Linus marveled at the resilience. “Will you go with us, Mr. Baker? We could look at music together!”
Linus was taken aback. He finally managed to say, “Ye-es, that … that would certainly be doable.”
“Why don’t you go tell the others they can go back to bed?” Arthur asked. “I’m sure they’ll want to see that you’re okay before they do.”
Lucy grinned at him, a dazzling thing that caused Linus’s heart to ache. “Okay!” He ran out the door, shouting down the hallway that he wasn’t dead, and that nothing got lit on fire this time, and wasn’t that grand?
Linus stood back up, knees popping. “Getting old,” he muttered, strangely embarrassed. “Though, I suppose it happens to the best of—”
“He doesn’t hurt anyone,” Arthur said, voice hard.
Linus looked up in surprise. Arthur was frowning at him, and that strange expression was back. Linus couldn’t read it at all. And why he was distracted by Arthur’s pajamas, he didn’t know. Arthur wore a pair of shorts, his knees pale and knobby. His shirt was ruffled. He looked younger than ever. And almost lost. “That’s good to hear.”
“And I know you’ll probably need to put this in your report,” Arthur continued, as if Linus hadn’t spoken at all. “I can’t blame you for that, nor will I try and stop you. But I do ask that you remember that Lucy has never hurt anyone. He’s … I meant what I said. He’s good. There is so much good in him. But I don’t think he would survive away from here. If this place were to close, or if he were to be removed, I don’t know that he’ll—”
Linus didn’t think before he reached out and took Arthur by the hand. Their palms slid together, fingers intertwining. Arthur held on tightly. “I understand what you’re saying.”
Arthur looked relieved.
But before he could speak, Linus had to finish. “However, even if he’s not a danger to anyone else, what about to himself?”
Arthur shook his head. “That’s not—”
“That’s why you keep him here with you, though. Correct? So he’s always within reach should the need arise.”
“Yes.”
“Has he ever hurt himself?”
Arthur sighed. “Not—not physically. But he’s an expert in self-flagellation after. If something is broken, no matter who it belongs to, he always carries the guilt upon his shoulders.”
“Something tells me you know a little about that.”
Arthur’s lips quirked. “A little.”
“He seems well enough now.”
“Regardless of who he is, he’s still a child. They bounce back remarkably. He’ll be fine, I think. At least until the next one.” Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly. “And I’ll be there for that one too.”
It was a challenge, and one Linus couldn’t meet. Whatever his recommendation would be, it was still up to DICOMY. “You said they didn’t happen often. At least not anymore. And I think I would have noticed something like this during my time here.”
“I thought—I hoped he was moving past them.” Arthur sounded frustrated.
“What brought this on, then? Do you know? Did something happen today?”
Arthur shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. I think … however grotesque it may be, I think there’s something to it when he says he has spiders on the brain. There is much we don’t know about what it means to be the Anti—”
“Ah,” Linus chided, squeezing Arthur’s hand. “We don’t say that word around here.”
Arthur smiled quietly. “No, I don’t suppose we do. Thank you for reminding me. The spiders, while certainly not actual spiders, are a representation of what’s going on in his head. Little threads of darkness woven into his light.”
“Parts of a whole,” Linus said. “We all have our issues. I have a spare tire around my middle. His father is Satan. Nothing that can’t be worked out if we try hard enough.”
Arthur tilted his head back toward the ceiling, closing his eyes as his smile widened. “I rather like you just the way you are.”
Linus felt overwarm again. He was sure his palm was sweating heavily, but couldn’t find the strength to pull it away. “I—well. That’s … I suppose that’s good.”
“I suppose.”
He was desperate to change the subject before he said something he’d regret. It was a battle he was losing, but he had to fight.
He let go of Arthur’s hand as he said, “So, to the village, then? I see you’ve made up your mind.”
Arthur opened his eyes and sighed. He looked at Linus. “You were right. It’s probably time. I worry, but then I always will.”