“That’s not—”
“She isn’t to be blamed,” Arthur said sharply as his eyes flashed open. “I certainly don’t. There was nothing she could have done that wouldn’t have put herself in danger.”
“They know about her now,” Linus admitted. “I included her in my report.”
“We know. We made the decision after we received notice that DICOMY was sending a caseworker. She was tired of hiding. She accepted the risk because of how important the children are to her. She needed you to see that she was wasn’t going to let them go without a fight.”
Linus shook his head. “I can’t—why on earth would DICOMY allow you this place at all? Why would they agree to put children in your care?” He blanched and added quickly, “You’re quite capable, of course, it’s just that—”
“Guilt is a powerful tool,” Arthur said. “For all I endured here, it would fall back on DICOMY if word ever got out. They thought they could use it as leverage. For my silence, they would allow me this house. To keep track of me, yes, but in the end, they saw the island as a solitary and desolate place where the only village nearby could be easily bought off. One where they could send who they considered to be the most … extreme. This was their grand experiment. They thought I was a pawn.”
“But you were playing them,” Linus whispered. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
Arthur smiled. “Oh yes. I took their huddled masses and gave them a home where they could breathe without fear of retaliation.” His smile faded. “I thought I had everything planned. And maybe I made mistakes. Keeping the children on the island for one. That was born out of fear. I told myself they had enough. That the island and Zoe and I could provide everything they could ever need. I love them more than anything in this world. And I convinced myself that love would be enough to sustain them. But I didn’t account for one thing.”
“What?”
Arthur looked at him. “You. You were the most unexpected thing of all.”
Linus gaped at him. “Me? But why?”
“Because of who you are. I know you don’t see it, Linus. But I see it enough for the both of us. You make me feel like I’m burning up from the inside out.”
Linus couldn’t find a way to believe him. “I’m just one person. I’m just me.”
“I know. And what a lovely person you are.”
This couldn’t be real. “You played them. DICOMY. To get what you wanted.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
Linus had to fight to get the words out. “You could be doing the same to me. To get what you want. To have me—to have me say what you want in my reports.”
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. Oh, Linus. Do you really think so little of me?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Linus snapped. “You’re not who I thought you were! You’ve lied to me!”
“I withheld the truth,” Arthur said gently.
“Is there a difference?”
“I think—”
“Do they know about you? The children?”
Arthur shook his head slowly. “I learned rather quickly how to hide myself from most everyone.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted them to think there was still good in this world. They were sent to me shattered into the tiniest of pieces. The less they knew about me the better. They needed to focus on their own healing. And I was—”
“They could have found solidarity with you,” Linus argued. “They could have—”
“And I was instructed by DICOMY never to reveal myself to them.”
Linus took a step back. He hit the wall. “What?”
“It was part of the deal,” Arthur said. “One of their conditions before they agreed to allow me to return here. I could reopen Marsyas, but who I am—what I am—would remain a secret.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Linus. Phoenixes are … we—I can burn brightly, and I don’t know if there’s a limit. I believe I could burn the very sky if I pushed myself hard enough. If they couldn’t figure out a way to harness that power, then at the very least, they’d put a muzzle on it. Fear and hatred comes from not being able to understand what—”
“That’s no excuse,” Linus snapped. “Just because you can do things others cannot doesn’t make you something to be reviled.”
He shrugged awkwardly. “It was their way of showing that regardless of what I was getting in return, they still had a hold over me. It was a reminder that all of this could be taken away whenever they wanted. When Charles left, shortly after Talia and Phee arrived, he told me to remember that. And if he ever got word I had reneged on my promise, or that he even thought I had, he would send someone to investigate. And if need be, shut us down. I’m sure the thought crossed their mind at one point or another that instead of me living quietly on this island with their castoffs, I would instead amass an army. Preposterous, of course. I never wanted anything more than a home I could call my own.”
“It’s not fair.”
“No. It’s not. Life rarely is. But we deal with it the best we can. And we allow ourselves to hope for the best. Because a life without hope isn’t a life lived at all.”
“You have to tell them. They need to know who you are.”
“Why?”
“Because they have to see they aren’t alone!” Linus cried, slamming his palms back against the wall. “That magic exists where we least expect it to. That they can grow up to be whoever they choose to be!”
“Can they?”
“Yes! And though it may not seem like it now, things can change. Talia said that you told her in order to change the minds of many, you have to first start with the minds of a few.”
He smiled. “She said that?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think she was even listening.”
“Of course they listen,” Linus said, exasperated. “They listen to every single thing you say. They look to you because you are their family. You are their—” He stopped, breathing heavily. He shouldn’t say it. It wasn’t right. None of this was. It wasn’t—“You are their father, Arthur. You said you love them more than life itself. You have to know they feel the same about you. Of course they do. How can they not? Look at you. Look at what you’ve made here. You are a fire, and they need to know how you burn. Not only because of who you are, but because of what they have made you into.”
Arthur’s expression stuttered and broke. He lowered his head. His shoulders shook.
Linus wanted to console him, wanted to take Arthur in his arms and hold him tight, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. He was confused, all his thoughts swirling in a storm in his head. He latched on to the only thing he could. “And when—when I go back, when I leave this place, I will do my best to make sure Extremely Upper Management knows this. That the island—”
Arthur’s head snapped up. “When you go back?”
Linus looked away. “My time here was always going to be short. There was always an end date. And while it came much quicker than I anticipated, I have a home. A life. A job. One that is now more important than ever, I think. You have opened my eyes, Arthur. All of you. I will be forever grateful.”