Life Less Ordinary, Part 1
Title: Life Less Ordinary (1/2)
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters/Pairing: Artie/James; Mrs. Frederic and OCs
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,436
Summary: The story of Arthur Nielson and James MacPherson. Partners at the Warehouse leading to love and loss and maybe even hate. What their relationship was really like before they wanted to kill each other.
Author Notes: Written for raedbard (though also kinda totally for myself since I wanted to write this anyhow, thanks sweetie for the reason) over at the The Fall Fandom Free-For-All (2009). This had been an epic journey of writing and I have loved it. Hope you like the story!
When James MacPherson came to work at the Warehouse Artie had already been there a number of years. Artie’s first partner Nathaniel had disappeared recently in pursuit of the gold cross of Cortes. Three months with no sign and they’d had to move on without him. Nathaniel had been the one to usher Artie into the Warehouse when he first began, the one who’d caught his double life at the NSA and forgave him. Artie had even named his first ferret Nate. Now with him gone Artie was alone and Mrs. Frederic decided that he needed a new partner. In came James to fill the gap.
James MacPherson arrived wearing a suit and tie, a bit over dressed for the Warehouse but how was he to know that? Artie met him outside with a plate of cookies. He'd been baking a bit more lately what with no one else around the Warehouse.
“You must be James MacPherson,” Artie said, holding out the plate.
“Do you tend to get many unexpected visitors out here?” James said, looking down at the plate but not taking a cookie.
“No, not really,” Artie replied, lowering the hand holding the plate. “But you could be a spy for all I know.”
“A spy?” James asked.
Artie just nodded and turned back toward the Warehouse. “I'm Arthur Nielsen, now let's show you around.”
Once inside, plate of cookies put away, Artie proceeded to give James the grand tour, somewhat eager to show off his baby in all her archival splendor.
“And this,” Artie said as he walked out of the office door onto the balcony with James behind him, “is Warehouse 13.”
“Bit dark isn't it?”
Artie looked sidelong at him. “Uh, I suppose you could say that.”
James just pursed his lips, still looking out over the expanse of the Warehouse from their aerial view. Artie stared at James for a moment more then looked away. Usually first sight reactions to the main area of the Warehouse did not include total calm.
“So, there is the manual to read,” Artie said getting back to business.
“I already have.”
“And there...” Artie continued then snapped his head around. “You what?”
“I've already read it; quite a lot of interesting artifacts you have here.”
“You've already read it?”
James turned his head toward Artie. “That is what I said.”
“You have the manual already?” Artie said, still staring somewhat stunned, unable to think of a more intelligent question.
“Well, it would be hard to read it without having a copy.”
Artie closed his mouth, looked at James once more, then turned around and went back into the office. This introduction to the Warehouse was not going quite as he had expected but then again he did work with objects with supernatural powers. Behind him he heard James enter and close the door. He turned to see the man smiling widely.
“Well then,” James said, “it looks like we are partners now.” He held out his hand. “Glad to be working with you.”
For some reason Artie felt himself smiling as he took James’ hand and shook. “Welcome to the Warehouse.”
It was odd but he had a good feeling about this.
---------------
The first time they went out on a mission together had proven to be a relatively painless outing. They had trucked on down to Texas and found themselves a diamond necklace which was able to project the light which touched it during the day at night with twice the intensity; definitely on the more simple side of artifacts.
“I could make it into a very lovely flashlight,” James said about it as he inspected the thing in the car.
“Would certainly save on batteries,” Artie replied.
The second time they went looking for an artifact they both ended up soaking wet with the artifact at the bottom of Lake Erie. Mrs. Frederic had not been too pleased with their return.
The third time the artifact was a Russian doll with nine smaller dolls inside of it, all artifacts in themselves. Each different size doll could open a corresponding size door, the smallest doll opened one foot high doors, the second smallest, two feet, and so on. It was interesting in its mathematical qualities but also useful when one wanted to, say, rob a bank, as the current possessor of the Russian doll had decided to do.
“Put down the doll and just step away,” Artie said, as James pointed the Tesla at the man.
“What do you think; I'm just going to hand it over to you?”
“Unless you'd rather we just shot you?” James replied.
The man held up the doll as if it was a small shield. “You can't hold me. I can just walk out.”
“Oh, we don't want you,” Artie said, taking another step closer. “We just want the dolls.”
“We have a collection you see,” James said. Artie flashed him a warning look but the other just smiled and continued. “Of dolls.”
Artie couldn't stop himself snorting in amusement.
“Well, not this one!” The man said, turning on his heel and running towards the back door, doll held out to whisk it open.
“James!” Artie shouted and James shot.
The man fell, face first, the Russian doll sliding across the floor. Artie walked over and picked up the doll, putting it in a silver Warehouse bag with a small spark.
“Now we would like the rest of them,” James said to the man on the floor as he came back around, “must have the set.”
“You're ridiculous,” Artie said but smiled anyway.
The fourth artifact was Beethoven's ear trumpet which made Artie deaf for a week afterward. The fifth excursion was a bird cage they both would rather have forgotten about for the rest of their lives. The sixth artifact wasn't an artifact at all, just a strange set of coincidences which turned a lake red because of mineral deposits.
Work at the Warehouse just kept rolling on, artifact after artifact, dangerous and only mildly so and rarely, completely safe. As it turned out they made a perfect team. Artie found himself to be quite happy working with James.
-----------------
“Arthur, what time is it?”
“Five minutes since you asked me the last time.”
“Is it really necessary to be doing this?”
Artie sighed.
“No, I mean it, Arthur. You already have that lovely map on the wall you're so fond of perusing and everything logged into that fabulous technological wonder of a computer upstairs. So, my question is why are we doing this?”
“James, it's just a bit of inventory. We're not re-cataloging the whole Warehouse,” Artie said looking down from his ladder at the man below.
“I'm sure you've considered that before,” James replied.
“There are occasions when artifacts find a way to move, you know,” Artie said logging the date on the port for the tea pot at his right. “This section is particularly bad about it.”
“Yes, I know, Arthur,” James said, slight frustration in his tone. “You gave me this speech in its longer form twenty minutes ago.
Artie looked down again. “Then why are you still asking me why?”
“Seems an exercise in futility, does it not? If the artifacts are so keen on moving they're just going to do it again regardless.”
Rolling his eyes, Artie descended the ladder until he was back on the ground. James had his arms crossed with a rather petulant expression on his face. Artie handed him the check list.
“Would you rather be out somewhere chasing an artifact getting possibly maimed or killed in the process?”
“Well, when you put it that way, yes.”
Artie laughed quickly, walking down the isle. James followed behind him, sliding the ladder along.
“Well, I'm sorry our work isn't always so life threatening, James,” Artie said, stopping at the next section. “Your turn.”
Artie indicated the ladder. Taking off his jacket, James handed it and the clipboard to Artie then proceeded to unbutton the cuffs of his white shirt.
“You know, I am half tempted to move something myself into the wrong spot when I'm up there just to bother you later, Arthur,” said James, grinning somewhat mischievously.
Artie just raised an eyebrow, slightly distracted by James' wrists.
Thus, unencumbered James took the clipboard back from Artie and climbed up the ladder to the second shelf up.
“Perhaps we should hire interns to do the menial labor such as this,” James continued.
Artie laughed, sharp and short. “If you wanted to burn down the Warehouse then I'm sure that would be a quick way to do it.”
He heard James chuckle above him. “It might prove some entertainment at least.”
“I'm sorry, James. Is a warehouse full of supernatural artifacts from all different centuries and countries not amusement enough for you?”
Artie heard a soft laugh from the other man and looked up. James was looking down at him, a broad smile across his face.
“You are amusement enough for me, Arthur.”
For some reason Artie felt himself blush.
---------------
Artie must have fallen asleep at his desk because when he woke up to someone gently shaking him the office was mostly dark and his screen was turned off. Blinking the fuzz of sleep away from his eyes, Artie turned to see James sitting beside him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Working too hard?” he asked with a slight smile.
Artie sat up and stretched. “I was just trying to re-catalog the artifacts that were all misplaced after the incident with the cruise liner.”
“Well, Jessica couldn’t have known it would create a hurricane like that.”
“If she’d not gone poking around like I specifically asked her not to,” Artie said, clicking a key and bringing the computer screen back to life, “there wouldn’t have been a hurricane to begin with.”
James scoffed quietly. “Let her be Arthur, it’s barely been a month since she’s been here. You know it takes a while to get used to this place.”
Artie rubbed a hand over his face. “I know, I know. It’s not as though it’s ever calm out there for too long any way.”
Nodding, James stood up. “Are you staying?”
Artie just nodded absently, eyes still on the screen wondering how he was going to go about putting all of these artifacts back without incident. Then he felt James’ hand on his arm and turned. James was looking at him intently, leaning over a bit, his eyes flicking up and down Artie's face twice as if searching.
“What?” Artie asked.
Opening his mouth, James puffed out a sigh then stood up straight, his hand falling away.
“Don’t stay too late, Arthur. You need some proper sleep like all normal people. There’s no need to live at the Warehouse.”
“So you say,” Artie retorted with a smile, “but every time I leave something else tries to explode.”
“Promise me you will leave and get to bed sometime,” James said.
“I promise.”
Strangely, Artie felt like he was answering some other question in James’ mind because the smile he received in response was not one he’d seen before on James’ face. A feeling which had only been a vague inkling before in Artie began to push its way closer to the surface.
-------------
“I’ve informed Paul’s parents of the loss and I will write the report for the Regents myself. Artie I would like you to start the process of storing his room…” Mrs. Frederic paused as she looked at the two of them then spoke a bit softer. “When you… have time.”
Artie knew what she really meant was ‘when you feel up to it.’ He just nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, not looking at anything in particular.
“James,” she continued, “make sure the typewriter is put in the dark vault and be sure to bring Artie or Jessica with you when storing it. We don’t need any repeat performances.”
“Of course,” James said simply.
Mrs. Frederic nodded once at the two of them then turned to leave. At the door frame to the parlor she paused and looked back at them.
“I’ll check in when I return.”
Then she was gone.
Artie heaved a sigh letting his head fall back onto the edge of the couch, eyes closed. He couldn't believe he had let this happen. The boy hadn't even been at the Warehouse six months. Artie should have realized how dangerous the typewriter was. He shouldn't have left Paul alone with it. If he'd only come back sooner he could have saved Paul's life.
“Arthur.”
Artie opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at James sitting beside him on the couch. He was giving Artie a sympathetic look. James hadn't been on the mission with Artie and Paul. He hadn't seen how pale Paul's face had become, how his body fell to the floor almost as soon as Artie came back to check on him after Paul had been gone too long.
“Don't blame yourself, Arthur,” James said. “You didn't know exactly what the typewriter did. We only had sketchy information at best.”
“I should have been more careful,” Artie said, looking away. “I should have known better. It was too easy. I should have taken that for a clue at least!”
“Arthur,” James cut in, scooting closer and putting a hand over Artie's. “It's too late now to change what happened and you can't blame yourself for everything that happens because of the artifacts.”
Artie scoffed. “I can blame myself for this one.”
“Well, I'm not blaming you,” James said making Artie look back. “So, do try to keep the melodramatics to a minimum.”
Artie couldn't help but laugh a little and smile at his partner. James nodded once with a semi-serious look on his face. Curling his fingers around Artie's hand, he squeezed once then stood up, holding Artie's hand, inviting Artie to stand as well.
“Time to get back to work protecting the world, right, Arthur?”
“Right, James.”
Artie stood, hand remaining in James' for a moment longer before they let go.
-----------------
The two of them were in England searching for a new artifact. There had been reports of some strange death's occurring at Westminster Abbey, specifically near the burial place of Mary I and Elizabeth I. Thus, they hopped on a plane and went to investigate.
“I've spoken to the curator,” James said as he walked down a set of marble stairs toward Artie waiting at the bottom. “It seems one researcher and two tourists died of, according to the coroner, poisoning. However, they cannot trace just what type of poison or where the poison could be from.”
“That's perfect,” Artie said as they walked into the main cathedral, the ceiling arching high above them. “Going back through Warehouse history there are a few notes about something related to the Tudor dynasty, Mary I in particular, and poison.”
“Bloody Mary,” James said and made a motion with his hand like connecting the dots.
“So, something of Mary's, it's poisonous but we just don't know what it is.”
The abbey was closed to the public at that time of night. However, luckily for them, James had an old friend who worked at Westminster who allowed them in after hours. English ties ran deep. They entered the section of the church where the ladies of Henry VIII were buried, the graves of Mary I and Elizabeth I side by side. The front of the marble edifice had three dark columns rising up from its base with two marble lions in between. On its face were two plaques in Latin reading, “Partners both in throne and grave, here rest we two sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, in the hope of one resurrection.”
At first everything seemed quiet and peaceful, no outright signs of anything which might be an artifact.
“Look,” James said suddenly, pointing to the lion on the right above the plaque with Mary's name.
Somehow in between the lion's teeth was a perfect red rose.
“Now, I don't think that is supposed to be there,” Artie said.
Moving closer, they stood in front of the lion holding the rose. It didn't move or spark or do anything which seemed dangerous which only made Artie more nervous. Often the quiet artifacts were the worst. Taking a pair of purple gloves and tongs out of his bag, Artie slowly put on the gloves.
“Careful, Arthur,” James said. “We don't know yet how it poisons.”
“Thank you, James,” Artie replied sarcastically.
Holding out the tongs, Artie used them to grasp the stem of the rose and tugged. The rose didn't budge. Artie tired again and still nothing. He moved the tongs so they were at the base of the head of the rose and tried again.
“It's not moving,” Artie said.
“I did notice.”
“It might require physical contact,” Artie said, trying to extrapolate an idea. “It's a single rose, one you would hand to someone else, like Mary may have received from her husband.”
“Blood red...” James muttered quietly.
Artie put down the tongs and reached for the rose.
“Arthur, don't,” James said, grabbing his arm.
“One of us has to,” Artie said. “We certainly can't leave it here. Just get the can ready.”
James sighed, taking the top off of the metal canister exposing the purple goo within. Reaching out carefully, Artie grasped the stem of the rose with two fingers. He paused for a moment to see if he died. When he didn't fall over in pain Artie pulled slowly, the rose sliding out of the lion's teeth. He turned around to face James holding out the canister.
Then suddenly he felt a prick on his finger. Artie hissed in pain and looked down at his hand holding the rose. A small droplet of blood escaped from the hole made in the glove and his thumb to dribble down onto the stem of the rose. Suddenly, the blood seemed to be sucked right into the green stem and Artie felt a stabbing pain in his chest.
“Oh god...”
Artie stumbled and fell to his knees. He tried to let go of the rose, get it away from him, but he couldn't. His fingers wouldn't open, keeping the rose trapped in his hand or more like the rose trapping him. His blood was now connected to the poison in the rose.
“Arthur!” James gasped, kneeling down in front of the man. “Let go, put the rose in here. We can neutralize it.”
“I can't let go,” Artie gasped.
James grabbed the top of Artie's arm and dunked his hand holding the rose straight into the purple goo. The pain only spiked making Artie gasp and his vision blur.
“It's not working,” he managed to say, sounding more like a cry.
“Your body is feeding it,” James said, grabbing Artie's bag, “or... or your blood.”
Artie's hand with the rose slid out of the Warehouse goo, completely clean, and his knees gave out. With a smack that echoed through the chamber, Artie fell down to the floor, shaking. The pain had spread through his whole body now, as though he could feel the poison like knives traveling through his blood stream. Artie heard James rummaging through the bag nearby.
“Bloody Mary...” Artie said quietly trying to see through the haze in his eyes. “She was called Bloody Mary...”
“Be quiet, Arthur,” James said from what sounded like too far away. “I'm going to help you. You'll be fine. You'll be fine.”
Artie's vision went black.
Suddenly, Artie was coughing and gasping for air. He could feel someone holding him from behind, hand against his chest. Artie tried to open his eyes, tried to see what was going on. He balled his hands into fists as he struggled to force the air into his lungs. It was like drowning on nothing. Finally, air flowed in and he felt himself breathing normally, in and out, in and out. He realized then that there was nothing in his hands.
“It's all right, Arthur, you're fine.”
Artie realized it was James who was holding him, moving him to sit up. Artie put his hands flat on the ground, forcing himself to be still and stop shaking.
“What happened? Where's the rose?” Artie gasped out once he found his voice again.
Moving around so he was kneeling beside him, one hand still on Artie's shoulder, James pointed to the canister where it sat a few feet away with its top securely on.
“What did you do?” Artie asked.
“I gave it some of my blood.”
“What!” Artie shouted, almost making himself fall back again. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, my family is Catholic. Mary Tudor executed hundreds in the name of Catholicism. I thought perhaps the rose wouldn't harm someone of Catholic heritage. I was right.”
“How did you know it wouldn't just poison you too?” Artie asked.
“I didn't,” James said, standing up. “I didn't even know if it would release your blood once it had mine but I had to try something, Arthur.”
Artie slowly got to his feet, swaying and still aching. He stared at James.
“You... you could have died,” he said. “You could have died too.”
“I know,” James replied simply, looking back at Artie like it had been the easiest decision in the world.
Without even thinking about it, Artie reached out and pulled James into a fierce hug. He held on tightly to his friend knowing words would never be enough for how much he wanted to say thank you.
--------------
Artie never expected to fall in love with someone like James. He never expected to fall for his partner at work over artifacts and late night research and investigations to random states and countries. It was like the marriage happened first and the romance later. Yet when it happened, suddenly Artie was tumbling down the slope without even realizing it.
The two of them were in Pennsylvania on the path of an artifact. In fact they had been on the path of this artifact for some time. This artifact had a unique ability which made it somewhat difficult to obtain. So far the search had taken two months with the artifact passing through various people.
“I'm going to kill John Wilkes Booth!” James said as the two of them ran down an apartment hallway.
“Sorry to,” Artie huffed, “inform you, whew, but he's already, oh god I hate running, already dead.”
They skidded to a stop at a corner, craning their necks around the bend. The man they had been chasing wearing John Wilkes Booth's boot was no where in sight.
“Shit...” Artie muttered, lowering the Tesla in his hand.
The Farnsworth began to buzz as if on cue to their failure and James pulled it out of this jacket pocket.
“What?” he said.
“Did you catch him?” Jessica asked, her small face with its large red curls filling the circular screen.
“Lost him,” Artie said, putting the Tesla back into his jacket. “Do we know if the boot makes you run faster as well as getting away with everything?”
“I have to say that is one of the more bothersome things about this,” James complained to them both. “If the wearer gets away with everything then that means he gets away from us!”
“James...” Artie said.
“And it is always by some ridiculous coincidence or sudden locked door or turn in the road or-”
“You know he's on day eleven now,” Jessica interrupted. “If he hasn't been counting properly or he's one of the stupider ones you should be able to get him soon.”
The man currently in possession of the boot, one Robert Williams, was unfortunately not one of the stupider ones. He knew exactly what the boot did and had the money to prove it which only made their job that much harder.
Jessica leaned forward into the view of the Fansworth with an amused grin. “Maybe you'll catch him as soon as the last hour is out on the twelve days, down to the last second on the clock.”
She wiggled her fingers at the screen in an ‘ooo, suspense’ type manner.
“Be still my heart,” Artie muttered.
“He's staying at that snazzy hotel in town,” Jessica said, being serious again, and looking away from them to the computer out of their view. “It says he's booked to check out tomorrow morning.”
“Damn it,” James grumbled.
“You think he's going to take off the boot after tonight then put it back on tomorrow to start the cycle over?” Jessica asked.
“He'll try at least,” Artie answered.
“Then we go tonight,” James said, closing the Farnsworth without even a goodbye to Jessica.
Driving quickly to the hotel, James sent Artie to head in the back while James blazed in with all of his showmanship through the front. Hopefully, Robert would still be down stairs at the hotel bar getting away with not paying for any of his drinks. The clock was ticking though. Sneaking through a 'staff only' entrance, Artie headed down the back corridor toward the main lobby. If James and Robert weren't down there Artie could try for Robert's room on the fourth floor.
“I've had enough of this!” Artie suddenly heard shouted from the lobby.
There were some surprised shouts, gasps and the high yelp of a woman. Artie hurried along, pulling out his Tesla and, staying low, crept into the back of the lobby atrium. He could see Robert's back where he stood facing James in the circular entryway by the front desk. It was like a very dramatic movie ending in its set up. Robert even had gotten to the point of having a gun to point at James. Artie tried to breathe slowly, the panic attempting to take over.
“Now is the end, Robert,” James said sounding calm. “Your twelve days of joy riding are up.”
“Not quite yet,” Robert said, “and you're not going to take it away from me. I can still get away with killing you.”
Artie tensed as Robert's hand began to move on the trigger. There was no way Artie would lose James to a bastard like this. Quickly he slid out from his hiding place, Tesla raised and locked eyes with James.
“Arthur!” James shouted.
Robert turned automatically just at Artie fired the Tesla, hitting the man in the chest. He flew back, the gun falling out of his hands, and landed unconscious on the floor. James walked over and pulled the boot off of his foot. James grinned and looked up at Arthur as he walked over to stand in front of him. James held up the boot.
“Job done.”
Artie felt a wash of happiness flood over him seeing James, not shot, standing there victorious. He didn't realize until then how worried he'd been over just that small moment of danger to James' life. Another piece clicked into place.
'Oh...' Artie thought.
Leaving Robert in the hands of the local police to explain his shouting in a hotel with a gun as well as some outstanding bar and hotel bills, the two Warehouse agents headed off to their own inn for the night.
“Nice shooting tonight, Arthur,” James said as they walked down the hall to their room, boot safely stowed in the car.
“Well, big open hotel lobbies are my specialty.”
James laughed vaguely then the two of them fell silent, an awkward feeling settling in.
James stopped two rooms down from their's and turned to look at Artie. He breathed in quickly like he was preparing to give a speech which tipped Artie off that he'd better start paying attention because this was going to be something. Thoughts suddenly sprang up all at once on him about touching hands and unexplainable smiles and life saving and normal every day contact that lasted a beat longer and that feeling that even teenagers know. His pulse shot up to 'just been running' point and Artie tried to remind himself that he was over fifteen years old now, with zero results.
Then James did that smile which Artie hadn't realized until just then he was in love with and everything fell perfectly into place. They stared at each other, the light really clicking on after who knew how long of it being there and James reached out to grasp Artie's wrists.
“Look, Arthur...” he started.
“I know,” Artie responded, not needing James to give whatever speech was in his head at all.
So, James closed the gap for their movie moment and kissed Artie who kissed him right back. Artie's head began to fill with the most ridiculous, hardly related thoughts as their lips moved together like, 'I can't believe we're getting to this point in Lancaster, Pennsylvania' and 'why the hell am I so short?' But even those idle thoughts were erased completely with James pulling Artie even closer by the back of his neck, tongue forcing its way into Artie's mouth. Okay, they were fifteen year olds again and damn it if Artie did not care as he griped James' hip with one hand and his coat with the other.
“Okay, wow,” Artie said when they finally came up for air, still somewhat entangled with each other.
James was looking down at him with bedroom eyes combined with a somewhat predatory, 'I got what I want now' look. Artie would have been alarmed but it seemed that rational part of his brain was overruled by the part that was very very interested in seeing what that look could do. James shook his head quickly, then practically dragged Artie down the few remaining feet to their room, pressing him against the door while he fumbled through Artie's pockets looking for the key.
“So, I can't think of anything witty or charming to say,” James said looking back up at Artie having finally found the room key in Artie's top coat pocket. “So, shall we just skip it?”
“Yeah, okay,” Artie replied quickly, taking the key from James and opening the door.
James gave him a look which a lion probably gave before it pounced then stepped inside beside Artie, closing the door with a snap behind them.
------------
Artie drove up the driveway of Colin's bed and breakfast for the morning meeting of the Warehouse agents. Jessica had taken up permanent residence at the bed and breakfast so she was bound to be already downstairs chowing down on breakfast. Stopping the car, Artie saw James' car already parked in the driveway and couldn't stop a grin. Grabbing his bag off the passenger seat, Artie got out of his car and headed into the building. He found James still in the front hall, taking off his jacket to hang on the coat stand.
“Morning,” Artie said, kissing James on the corner of his mouth.
James smiled and pulled Artie to him for a full kiss. “Hello.”
“Oh!” Artie said, rummaging through his bag and pulling out a blue tin. “I made cookies.”
James laughed. “Chocolate chip?”
Artie scoffed. “Please, oatmeal and some cherry chunk.”
“Going rich, are we?”
“Don't have any then if you're going to be critical.”
James took the tin out of Artie's hand then walked down the hall and into the parlor. Shaking his head but still smiling, Artie followed.
“Arthur baked cookies,” James said as he sat down at the table where Jessica was already stationed with a plate of eggs beside her.
“Oh?” She took the tin from him and opened it. “Yes, oatmeal raisin!”
“You didn't mention raisins,” James said, looking back at Artie.
He just shrugged and sat down, taking a stack of papers out of his bag. He passed some to James and to Jessica.
“So, the one about the duck,” Artie began.
“I checked, it really was just some stupid kids,” Jessica said.
“I told you,” James added.
“Good, then the one with the paper planes....”
“Autistic child,” James replied.
“All 1,274?”
James nodded.
“That is focus.”
“What about the cherry trees?” Jessica asked, holding up a folder.
“I think we need to look into that one,” Artie said, crossing his arms. “Anytime the term 'glowing' is used to describe fruit trees it bears another look.”
“I'm all over it,” Jessica said, closing the file and placing it beside her. “Are you two going to look into the drownings?”
Artie and James turned to each other. Artie saw the look of 'Louisiana would be nice this time of year' on James' face and turned back to Jessica.
“Just need to book a flight,” Artie replied, gathering up the rest of the papers on the table. “And I think we can leave these three for later, certainly not pressing.”
“Do you two want anything?” Colin said, suddenly poking his head in the door.
They all turned to look at the inn owner in surprise. Colin had a way of appearing much like Mrs. Frederic without anyone hearing him coming. Artie often wondered if they were related. At least Colin did appear to age.
“Coffee?” James asked.
“I'm fine,” Artie said.
“Artie did make cookies though,” Jessica said holding up the tin toward Colin.
He made an 'O' face and scurried into the parlor, taking three. He patted Artie quickly on the back in a thank you then swept out of the parlor just as quickly. Jessica stood up, scarfing down the last of her eggs as she did so.
“Time to head to the Warehouse then. Can I catch a ride with one of you two?” she asked then raised a finger. “Oh! And you should take the Conch with you when you go to Louisiana, just in case. Wouldn't want to become one of the drowners.”
“How astute,” James remarked as she walked by.
Jessica only snorted and turned down the hall. Artie stood up, reaching for his tin of cookies, and putting the top back on. Still sitting next to him, James took one of Artie's hands and threaded their fingers together. Artie looked down at him.
“Thinking lots of ridiculous romantic thoughts?” Artie asked.
“Perhaps,” James replied with a smirk.
“Well, cut it out,” Artie said, picking up the stack of papers and putting them into his bag with his other hand. “We've got to get to work.”
James just pursed his lips like a high school student thinking about skipping class.
Artie kissed James on the forehead and squeezed his hand. “Come on.”
Standing, James kissed Artie quickly then walked out of the parlor back toward the kitchen. Artie chuckled. Obviously, he could not do without the coffee. Picking up his bag and the tin, Artie walked outside to join Jessica standing by his car.
“Ready?” Artie asked as he walked over to her, opening the back door and putting his things in.
“You hang on to that one, Artie,” Jessica said.
Artie turned sharply to look at her in surprise. Jessica just gazed levelly back at him then glanced at James coming out of the front door. For someone so young Artie was continually surprised at how insightful Jessica was. She was just an old soul.
“He really loves you,” Jessica said watching James walking down the path toward them, “and that can be hard to find.”
Artie sighed then smiled at her, giving in. It was impossible to keep secrets from Jessica anyway. He looked over at James, coffee in hand.
“I know,” he said to her, “I really do.”
When Jessica was shot two months later Artie thought of that moment and didn't know why. James held his hand like it was Paul all over again and asked if he was okay.
Even though Jessica was gone, with James still there Artie was more than okay.
--------------
Artie was down in isle 783D when he suddenly heard “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” playing through the Warehouse.
“Oh, don’t you start with me,” Artie muttered to the Warehouse at large.
Climbing back down the ladder he was currently high up on, Artie took off his dark glasses and his purple gloves looking around. He couldn’t quite tell where the song was coming from. He couldn’t recall any specific artifact that played the song or any that played Nat King Cole but he didn’t have the entire Warehouse catalog memorized, yet.
Artie walked up and down the isles searching until after about 5 minutes, and the song repeating again, he realized the song wasn’t coming from anywhere specifically but seemed to be following him. Artie pursed his lips and headed over to the office, climbing the stairs and opening the door.
“Arthur.”
Turning, Artie saw James sitting in a chair next to an old record player. He smiled and stood up as Artie looked at him.
“Is that Glen Miller’s record player?”
“You heard the song out in the Warehouse, didn’t you?” James replied.
“Well, since you wanted me to hear it obviously I did, everywhere I went,” Artie tried to look angry but he knew he wasn’t pulling it off well. “Trying to be romantic are you?”
James smiled and circled around Artie with a playful smile. “Do you like the song?”
“Are you going to keep playing it in my head until I say yes?”
James laughed once. “Now you’re just being disagreeable on purpose, won’t let me get you any presents.”
“It’s a present now, is it?”
James stopped and stood in front of Artie. “You know it’s one of the safer artifacts, just sharing music between the one who plays the record and the one who they want to hear it. So, just relax and enjoy it for a moment. The Warehouse is not going to blow up over Berkeley Square.”
“James MacPherson...” Artie said trying to sound stern.
“Arthur Nielsen,” James said with a smile, stepping closer into Artie's personal space. “Come on.”
Finally, Artie’s resolve broke and a small smile crept over his face. “Well, I suppose it's all right for a little while.”
James slid his hand down Artie's arm and took his hand, holding it up. He placed his other on Artie's waist.
“Dance with me, Arthur?”
“I don't think I have a choice,” Artie replied but his tone didn't match his words.
James just raised his eyebrows and gave Artie's other hand a significant look. Artie didn't even sigh as he put his hand on James' arm and they began to slowly dance to the music just for them.
“...That certain night, the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air.”
“I feel like we're in an overly sappy 1950s movie right now...”
James scoffed and held him just a bit tighter. “You know, maybe you need a little 1950s romance now and then.”
“I don't think so.”
“You dancing in the Warehouse begs to differ, I'm afraid.”
Artie looked up at James sharply but couldn't reply as the other gazed down at him. Artie looked away, turning slowly and tired not to smile. He had to admit despite himself that it was very sweet.
“Thank you,” Artie said looking back at James.
James leaned forward, touching his forehead against Artie's.
“You're welcome.”
“...and as we kissed and said goodnight, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”
Artie smiled.
-----------------
“I mean it, Arthur, it’s a serious question.”
“James, how long have we both worked at the Warehouse?” Artie said as he walked down the isle, James behind him. “How many things have we seen that could have killed, or did kill, or would have killed more had they been left out in the world?”
“And how many things have we seen that had many applications for good?”
Artie sighed and stopped, turning to look at James.
“We can't make distinctions, you know that. Everything goes here, everything gets stored away, not to be used.”
James crossed his arms. “Oh, really? What about the vacuum cleaner?”
“That doesn't leave the Warehouse!”
“The butterfly net?”
“You know that it was needed on that mission with all the pieces of that chess set.”
“You see?” James said, that enthusiastic look Artie could not help but swoon for in his eyes. “An artifact used for good. There are so many things here which could be used out in the world instead of just hidden away, squandered.”
“Are you thinking of specific artifacts you want, James? Thinking of doing a little shopping?”
“Don't be sarcastic with me, Arthur. I'm trying to make a point.”
“Oh, you've made it, James,” Artie said, touching James' chest in a calming way. “I see what you're saying but it doesn't work that way. We can't pick and choose.”
James sighed. “If not us then who? We're the agents. It should be our discretion what artifacts stay in the Warehouse and which can be free to stay out in the world, to be used.”
“James,” Artie sighed right back. “That's bias right there. Anyone would be biased about what is good and what is bad, what needs to be locked up and what can be used to bring world peace.”
“You know that doesn't work, Tim had a ferret to prove that.”
“You know what I meant, it was an example,” Artie said, slightly exasperated then clutched James' arm and looked into his eyes. “The artifacts have to stay here, every single one. It's all or nothing.”
He let James go and continued to walk down the isle.
“What about nothing then?” James said from behind him.
Artie stopped and looked back. James was giving him a strange look. For just a moment Artie had a feeling of dread. It felt like maybe James wasn't kidding.
Then James walked over and shrugged, putting his hands on Artie's shoulders.
“Forget it,” he said, “just philosophizing.”
“How surprising.”
James laughed and kissed Artie quickly.
“So,” he said, stepping forward a bit closer so there was virtually no space between them. “I say it’s high time we let this old Warehouse alone for just a bit and get something to eat; something that's not another plate of your cookies, no matter how divine they are.”
Artie tried to be annoyed at the passing slight on his cookies but it didn't really work with James standing this close. So, he nodded instead and brushed a stray hair away from James' face.
“Yeah.” He stepped backwards once. “Dinner it is then.”
James smiled slowly. “It’s a date.”
---------------
Mr. & Mrs. James MacPherson
It was just a letter; just a letter which fell out of James’ bag when Artie accidentally knocked it to the floor. It was just a letter like any other, black ink, return address, stamp in the corner; a normal everyday, found in the mailbox letter, except that it wasn’t.
Artie held the letter where he stood frozen in front of the desk just staring. He must have read it four times at least not believing what he eyes insisted he was seeing. Now he couldn’t look away.
James was married, Mr. and Mrs., actually married. Words were flowing through Artie’s head at an alarming rate all jumbled together, ‘affair,’ ‘bit on the side,’ ‘home wrecker.’ He suddenly felt very nauseous and staggered a step over to sit down in the chair nearest to him with a loud ‘thunk.’ He still clutched the letter in his hand, unable to throw it away from himself or put it back in James’ bag. It was just some bill like everyone has to pay, things people get in the mail every day. Yet to Artie it was more like a ticking bomb.
The explosion came when the door leading to the Warehouse at Artie’s left opened and James walked through.
“Do you know Pandora’s box? I can't believe it's actually empty now. Well, I was… Arthur?”
Artie could almost hear the gears in James’ head clicking into place as he stood just a few steps in the door looking at Artie sitting motionless, not looking at him. James’ bag was where Artie had knocked it on the floor and the envelope was still clutched in Artie’s hand. If this was a dramatic romance movie now would be the point that Artie jumped to his feet and started shouting accusations, screaming and crying. Instead he slowly put the letter down on the table in front of him and turned his head to look at James, voice soft.
“You weren’t wearing a ring when I met you. I’ve never seen you wear one,” he said.
James stared back at him, lips tight with a resigned expression on his face. “I didn’t want the Warehouse to touch her.”
Artie nodded as he looked away back at the desk. His hands were flat on the surface where he kept his eyes locked. Slowly he stood up. James took a sudden step back as if Artie’s movement was already the punch the man deserved. Artie didn’t punch him though. He picked up his notebook lying on the table and his work gloves then walked past James out the door into the Warehouse. James’ sudden hand on his shoulder stopped Artie for just a moment.
“Arthur, wait, we need to talk-”
“No, we don’t,” Artie replied then walked down the stairs.
PART 2
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Characters/Pairing: Artie/James; Mrs. Frederic and OCs
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 13,436
Summary: The story of Arthur Nielson and James MacPherson. Partners at the Warehouse leading to love and loss and maybe even hate. What their relationship was really like before they wanted to kill each other.
Author Notes: Written for raedbard (though also kinda totally for myself since I wanted to write this anyhow, thanks sweetie for the reason) over at the The Fall Fandom Free-For-All (2009). This had been an epic journey of writing and I have loved it. Hope you like the story!
When James MacPherson came to work at the Warehouse Artie had already been there a number of years. Artie’s first partner Nathaniel had disappeared recently in pursuit of the gold cross of Cortes. Three months with no sign and they’d had to move on without him. Nathaniel had been the one to usher Artie into the Warehouse when he first began, the one who’d caught his double life at the NSA and forgave him. Artie had even named his first ferret Nate. Now with him gone Artie was alone and Mrs. Frederic decided that he needed a new partner. In came James to fill the gap.
James MacPherson arrived wearing a suit and tie, a bit over dressed for the Warehouse but how was he to know that? Artie met him outside with a plate of cookies. He'd been baking a bit more lately what with no one else around the Warehouse.
“You must be James MacPherson,” Artie said, holding out the plate.
“Do you tend to get many unexpected visitors out here?” James said, looking down at the plate but not taking a cookie.
“No, not really,” Artie replied, lowering the hand holding the plate. “But you could be a spy for all I know.”
“A spy?” James asked.
Artie just nodded and turned back toward the Warehouse. “I'm Arthur Nielsen, now let's show you around.”
Once inside, plate of cookies put away, Artie proceeded to give James the grand tour, somewhat eager to show off his baby in all her archival splendor.
“And this,” Artie said as he walked out of the office door onto the balcony with James behind him, “is Warehouse 13.”
“Bit dark isn't it?”
Artie looked sidelong at him. “Uh, I suppose you could say that.”
James just pursed his lips, still looking out over the expanse of the Warehouse from their aerial view. Artie stared at James for a moment more then looked away. Usually first sight reactions to the main area of the Warehouse did not include total calm.
“So, there is the manual to read,” Artie said getting back to business.
“I already have.”
“And there...” Artie continued then snapped his head around. “You what?”
“I've already read it; quite a lot of interesting artifacts you have here.”
“You've already read it?”
James turned his head toward Artie. “That is what I said.”
“You have the manual already?” Artie said, still staring somewhat stunned, unable to think of a more intelligent question.
“Well, it would be hard to read it without having a copy.”
Artie closed his mouth, looked at James once more, then turned around and went back into the office. This introduction to the Warehouse was not going quite as he had expected but then again he did work with objects with supernatural powers. Behind him he heard James enter and close the door. He turned to see the man smiling widely.
“Well then,” James said, “it looks like we are partners now.” He held out his hand. “Glad to be working with you.”
For some reason Artie felt himself smiling as he took James’ hand and shook. “Welcome to the Warehouse.”
It was odd but he had a good feeling about this.
---------------
The first time they went out on a mission together had proven to be a relatively painless outing. They had trucked on down to Texas and found themselves a diamond necklace which was able to project the light which touched it during the day at night with twice the intensity; definitely on the more simple side of artifacts.
“I could make it into a very lovely flashlight,” James said about it as he inspected the thing in the car.
“Would certainly save on batteries,” Artie replied.
The second time they went looking for an artifact they both ended up soaking wet with the artifact at the bottom of Lake Erie. Mrs. Frederic had not been too pleased with their return.
The third time the artifact was a Russian doll with nine smaller dolls inside of it, all artifacts in themselves. Each different size doll could open a corresponding size door, the smallest doll opened one foot high doors, the second smallest, two feet, and so on. It was interesting in its mathematical qualities but also useful when one wanted to, say, rob a bank, as the current possessor of the Russian doll had decided to do.
“Put down the doll and just step away,” Artie said, as James pointed the Tesla at the man.
“What do you think; I'm just going to hand it over to you?”
“Unless you'd rather we just shot you?” James replied.
The man held up the doll as if it was a small shield. “You can't hold me. I can just walk out.”
“Oh, we don't want you,” Artie said, taking another step closer. “We just want the dolls.”
“We have a collection you see,” James said. Artie flashed him a warning look but the other just smiled and continued. “Of dolls.”
Artie couldn't stop himself snorting in amusement.
“Well, not this one!” The man said, turning on his heel and running towards the back door, doll held out to whisk it open.
“James!” Artie shouted and James shot.
The man fell, face first, the Russian doll sliding across the floor. Artie walked over and picked up the doll, putting it in a silver Warehouse bag with a small spark.
“Now we would like the rest of them,” James said to the man on the floor as he came back around, “must have the set.”
“You're ridiculous,” Artie said but smiled anyway.
The fourth artifact was Beethoven's ear trumpet which made Artie deaf for a week afterward. The fifth excursion was a bird cage they both would rather have forgotten about for the rest of their lives. The sixth artifact wasn't an artifact at all, just a strange set of coincidences which turned a lake red because of mineral deposits.
Work at the Warehouse just kept rolling on, artifact after artifact, dangerous and only mildly so and rarely, completely safe. As it turned out they made a perfect team. Artie found himself to be quite happy working with James.
-----------------
“Arthur, what time is it?”
“Five minutes since you asked me the last time.”
“Is it really necessary to be doing this?”
Artie sighed.
“No, I mean it, Arthur. You already have that lovely map on the wall you're so fond of perusing and everything logged into that fabulous technological wonder of a computer upstairs. So, my question is why are we doing this?”
“James, it's just a bit of inventory. We're not re-cataloging the whole Warehouse,” Artie said looking down from his ladder at the man below.
“I'm sure you've considered that before,” James replied.
“There are occasions when artifacts find a way to move, you know,” Artie said logging the date on the port for the tea pot at his right. “This section is particularly bad about it.”
“Yes, I know, Arthur,” James said, slight frustration in his tone. “You gave me this speech in its longer form twenty minutes ago.
Artie looked down again. “Then why are you still asking me why?”
“Seems an exercise in futility, does it not? If the artifacts are so keen on moving they're just going to do it again regardless.”
Rolling his eyes, Artie descended the ladder until he was back on the ground. James had his arms crossed with a rather petulant expression on his face. Artie handed him the check list.
“Would you rather be out somewhere chasing an artifact getting possibly maimed or killed in the process?”
“Well, when you put it that way, yes.”
Artie laughed quickly, walking down the isle. James followed behind him, sliding the ladder along.
“Well, I'm sorry our work isn't always so life threatening, James,” Artie said, stopping at the next section. “Your turn.”
Artie indicated the ladder. Taking off his jacket, James handed it and the clipboard to Artie then proceeded to unbutton the cuffs of his white shirt.
“You know, I am half tempted to move something myself into the wrong spot when I'm up there just to bother you later, Arthur,” said James, grinning somewhat mischievously.
Artie just raised an eyebrow, slightly distracted by James' wrists.
Thus, unencumbered James took the clipboard back from Artie and climbed up the ladder to the second shelf up.
“Perhaps we should hire interns to do the menial labor such as this,” James continued.
Artie laughed, sharp and short. “If you wanted to burn down the Warehouse then I'm sure that would be a quick way to do it.”
He heard James chuckle above him. “It might prove some entertainment at least.”
“I'm sorry, James. Is a warehouse full of supernatural artifacts from all different centuries and countries not amusement enough for you?”
Artie heard a soft laugh from the other man and looked up. James was looking down at him, a broad smile across his face.
“You are amusement enough for me, Arthur.”
For some reason Artie felt himself blush.
---------------
Artie must have fallen asleep at his desk because when he woke up to someone gently shaking him the office was mostly dark and his screen was turned off. Blinking the fuzz of sleep away from his eyes, Artie turned to see James sitting beside him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Working too hard?” he asked with a slight smile.
Artie sat up and stretched. “I was just trying to re-catalog the artifacts that were all misplaced after the incident with the cruise liner.”
“Well, Jessica couldn’t have known it would create a hurricane like that.”
“If she’d not gone poking around like I specifically asked her not to,” Artie said, clicking a key and bringing the computer screen back to life, “there wouldn’t have been a hurricane to begin with.”
James scoffed quietly. “Let her be Arthur, it’s barely been a month since she’s been here. You know it takes a while to get used to this place.”
Artie rubbed a hand over his face. “I know, I know. It’s not as though it’s ever calm out there for too long any way.”
Nodding, James stood up. “Are you staying?”
Artie just nodded absently, eyes still on the screen wondering how he was going to go about putting all of these artifacts back without incident. Then he felt James’ hand on his arm and turned. James was looking at him intently, leaning over a bit, his eyes flicking up and down Artie's face twice as if searching.
“What?” Artie asked.
Opening his mouth, James puffed out a sigh then stood up straight, his hand falling away.
“Don’t stay too late, Arthur. You need some proper sleep like all normal people. There’s no need to live at the Warehouse.”
“So you say,” Artie retorted with a smile, “but every time I leave something else tries to explode.”
“Promise me you will leave and get to bed sometime,” James said.
“I promise.”
Strangely, Artie felt like he was answering some other question in James’ mind because the smile he received in response was not one he’d seen before on James’ face. A feeling which had only been a vague inkling before in Artie began to push its way closer to the surface.
-------------
“I’ve informed Paul’s parents of the loss and I will write the report for the Regents myself. Artie I would like you to start the process of storing his room…” Mrs. Frederic paused as she looked at the two of them then spoke a bit softer. “When you… have time.”
Artie knew what she really meant was ‘when you feel up to it.’ He just nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, not looking at anything in particular.
“James,” she continued, “make sure the typewriter is put in the dark vault and be sure to bring Artie or Jessica with you when storing it. We don’t need any repeat performances.”
“Of course,” James said simply.
Mrs. Frederic nodded once at the two of them then turned to leave. At the door frame to the parlor she paused and looked back at them.
“I’ll check in when I return.”
Then she was gone.
Artie heaved a sigh letting his head fall back onto the edge of the couch, eyes closed. He couldn't believe he had let this happen. The boy hadn't even been at the Warehouse six months. Artie should have realized how dangerous the typewriter was. He shouldn't have left Paul alone with it. If he'd only come back sooner he could have saved Paul's life.
“Arthur.”
Artie opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at James sitting beside him on the couch. He was giving Artie a sympathetic look. James hadn't been on the mission with Artie and Paul. He hadn't seen how pale Paul's face had become, how his body fell to the floor almost as soon as Artie came back to check on him after Paul had been gone too long.
“Don't blame yourself, Arthur,” James said. “You didn't know exactly what the typewriter did. We only had sketchy information at best.”
“I should have been more careful,” Artie said, looking away. “I should have known better. It was too easy. I should have taken that for a clue at least!”
“Arthur,” James cut in, scooting closer and putting a hand over Artie's. “It's too late now to change what happened and you can't blame yourself for everything that happens because of the artifacts.”
Artie scoffed. “I can blame myself for this one.”
“Well, I'm not blaming you,” James said making Artie look back. “So, do try to keep the melodramatics to a minimum.”
Artie couldn't help but laugh a little and smile at his partner. James nodded once with a semi-serious look on his face. Curling his fingers around Artie's hand, he squeezed once then stood up, holding Artie's hand, inviting Artie to stand as well.
“Time to get back to work protecting the world, right, Arthur?”
“Right, James.”
Artie stood, hand remaining in James' for a moment longer before they let go.
-----------------
The two of them were in England searching for a new artifact. There had been reports of some strange death's occurring at Westminster Abbey, specifically near the burial place of Mary I and Elizabeth I. Thus, they hopped on a plane and went to investigate.
“I've spoken to the curator,” James said as he walked down a set of marble stairs toward Artie waiting at the bottom. “It seems one researcher and two tourists died of, according to the coroner, poisoning. However, they cannot trace just what type of poison or where the poison could be from.”
“That's perfect,” Artie said as they walked into the main cathedral, the ceiling arching high above them. “Going back through Warehouse history there are a few notes about something related to the Tudor dynasty, Mary I in particular, and poison.”
“Bloody Mary,” James said and made a motion with his hand like connecting the dots.
“So, something of Mary's, it's poisonous but we just don't know what it is.”
The abbey was closed to the public at that time of night. However, luckily for them, James had an old friend who worked at Westminster who allowed them in after hours. English ties ran deep. They entered the section of the church where the ladies of Henry VIII were buried, the graves of Mary I and Elizabeth I side by side. The front of the marble edifice had three dark columns rising up from its base with two marble lions in between. On its face were two plaques in Latin reading, “Partners both in throne and grave, here rest we two sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, in the hope of one resurrection.”
At first everything seemed quiet and peaceful, no outright signs of anything which might be an artifact.
“Look,” James said suddenly, pointing to the lion on the right above the plaque with Mary's name.
Somehow in between the lion's teeth was a perfect red rose.
“Now, I don't think that is supposed to be there,” Artie said.
Moving closer, they stood in front of the lion holding the rose. It didn't move or spark or do anything which seemed dangerous which only made Artie more nervous. Often the quiet artifacts were the worst. Taking a pair of purple gloves and tongs out of his bag, Artie slowly put on the gloves.
“Careful, Arthur,” James said. “We don't know yet how it poisons.”
“Thank you, James,” Artie replied sarcastically.
Holding out the tongs, Artie used them to grasp the stem of the rose and tugged. The rose didn't budge. Artie tired again and still nothing. He moved the tongs so they were at the base of the head of the rose and tried again.
“It's not moving,” Artie said.
“I did notice.”
“It might require physical contact,” Artie said, trying to extrapolate an idea. “It's a single rose, one you would hand to someone else, like Mary may have received from her husband.”
“Blood red...” James muttered quietly.
Artie put down the tongs and reached for the rose.
“Arthur, don't,” James said, grabbing his arm.
“One of us has to,” Artie said. “We certainly can't leave it here. Just get the can ready.”
James sighed, taking the top off of the metal canister exposing the purple goo within. Reaching out carefully, Artie grasped the stem of the rose with two fingers. He paused for a moment to see if he died. When he didn't fall over in pain Artie pulled slowly, the rose sliding out of the lion's teeth. He turned around to face James holding out the canister.
Then suddenly he felt a prick on his finger. Artie hissed in pain and looked down at his hand holding the rose. A small droplet of blood escaped from the hole made in the glove and his thumb to dribble down onto the stem of the rose. Suddenly, the blood seemed to be sucked right into the green stem and Artie felt a stabbing pain in his chest.
“Oh god...”
Artie stumbled and fell to his knees. He tried to let go of the rose, get it away from him, but he couldn't. His fingers wouldn't open, keeping the rose trapped in his hand or more like the rose trapping him. His blood was now connected to the poison in the rose.
“Arthur!” James gasped, kneeling down in front of the man. “Let go, put the rose in here. We can neutralize it.”
“I can't let go,” Artie gasped.
James grabbed the top of Artie's arm and dunked his hand holding the rose straight into the purple goo. The pain only spiked making Artie gasp and his vision blur.
“It's not working,” he managed to say, sounding more like a cry.
“Your body is feeding it,” James said, grabbing Artie's bag, “or... or your blood.”
Artie's hand with the rose slid out of the Warehouse goo, completely clean, and his knees gave out. With a smack that echoed through the chamber, Artie fell down to the floor, shaking. The pain had spread through his whole body now, as though he could feel the poison like knives traveling through his blood stream. Artie heard James rummaging through the bag nearby.
“Bloody Mary...” Artie said quietly trying to see through the haze in his eyes. “She was called Bloody Mary...”
“Be quiet, Arthur,” James said from what sounded like too far away. “I'm going to help you. You'll be fine. You'll be fine.”
Artie's vision went black.
Suddenly, Artie was coughing and gasping for air. He could feel someone holding him from behind, hand against his chest. Artie tried to open his eyes, tried to see what was going on. He balled his hands into fists as he struggled to force the air into his lungs. It was like drowning on nothing. Finally, air flowed in and he felt himself breathing normally, in and out, in and out. He realized then that there was nothing in his hands.
“It's all right, Arthur, you're fine.”
Artie realized it was James who was holding him, moving him to sit up. Artie put his hands flat on the ground, forcing himself to be still and stop shaking.
“What happened? Where's the rose?” Artie gasped out once he found his voice again.
Moving around so he was kneeling beside him, one hand still on Artie's shoulder, James pointed to the canister where it sat a few feet away with its top securely on.
“What did you do?” Artie asked.
“I gave it some of my blood.”
“What!” Artie shouted, almost making himself fall back again. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, my family is Catholic. Mary Tudor executed hundreds in the name of Catholicism. I thought perhaps the rose wouldn't harm someone of Catholic heritage. I was right.”
“How did you know it wouldn't just poison you too?” Artie asked.
“I didn't,” James said, standing up. “I didn't even know if it would release your blood once it had mine but I had to try something, Arthur.”
Artie slowly got to his feet, swaying and still aching. He stared at James.
“You... you could have died,” he said. “You could have died too.”
“I know,” James replied simply, looking back at Artie like it had been the easiest decision in the world.
Without even thinking about it, Artie reached out and pulled James into a fierce hug. He held on tightly to his friend knowing words would never be enough for how much he wanted to say thank you.
--------------
Artie never expected to fall in love with someone like James. He never expected to fall for his partner at work over artifacts and late night research and investigations to random states and countries. It was like the marriage happened first and the romance later. Yet when it happened, suddenly Artie was tumbling down the slope without even realizing it.
The two of them were in Pennsylvania on the path of an artifact. In fact they had been on the path of this artifact for some time. This artifact had a unique ability which made it somewhat difficult to obtain. So far the search had taken two months with the artifact passing through various people.
“I'm going to kill John Wilkes Booth!” James said as the two of them ran down an apartment hallway.
“Sorry to,” Artie huffed, “inform you, whew, but he's already, oh god I hate running, already dead.”
They skidded to a stop at a corner, craning their necks around the bend. The man they had been chasing wearing John Wilkes Booth's boot was no where in sight.
“Shit...” Artie muttered, lowering the Tesla in his hand.
The Farnsworth began to buzz as if on cue to their failure and James pulled it out of this jacket pocket.
“What?” he said.
“Did you catch him?” Jessica asked, her small face with its large red curls filling the circular screen.
“Lost him,” Artie said, putting the Tesla back into his jacket. “Do we know if the boot makes you run faster as well as getting away with everything?”
“I have to say that is one of the more bothersome things about this,” James complained to them both. “If the wearer gets away with everything then that means he gets away from us!”
“James...” Artie said.
“And it is always by some ridiculous coincidence or sudden locked door or turn in the road or-”
“You know he's on day eleven now,” Jessica interrupted. “If he hasn't been counting properly or he's one of the stupider ones you should be able to get him soon.”
The man currently in possession of the boot, one Robert Williams, was unfortunately not one of the stupider ones. He knew exactly what the boot did and had the money to prove it which only made their job that much harder.
Jessica leaned forward into the view of the Fansworth with an amused grin. “Maybe you'll catch him as soon as the last hour is out on the twelve days, down to the last second on the clock.”
She wiggled her fingers at the screen in an ‘ooo, suspense’ type manner.
“Be still my heart,” Artie muttered.
“He's staying at that snazzy hotel in town,” Jessica said, being serious again, and looking away from them to the computer out of their view. “It says he's booked to check out tomorrow morning.”
“Damn it,” James grumbled.
“You think he's going to take off the boot after tonight then put it back on tomorrow to start the cycle over?” Jessica asked.
“He'll try at least,” Artie answered.
“Then we go tonight,” James said, closing the Farnsworth without even a goodbye to Jessica.
Driving quickly to the hotel, James sent Artie to head in the back while James blazed in with all of his showmanship through the front. Hopefully, Robert would still be down stairs at the hotel bar getting away with not paying for any of his drinks. The clock was ticking though. Sneaking through a 'staff only' entrance, Artie headed down the back corridor toward the main lobby. If James and Robert weren't down there Artie could try for Robert's room on the fourth floor.
“I've had enough of this!” Artie suddenly heard shouted from the lobby.
There were some surprised shouts, gasps and the high yelp of a woman. Artie hurried along, pulling out his Tesla and, staying low, crept into the back of the lobby atrium. He could see Robert's back where he stood facing James in the circular entryway by the front desk. It was like a very dramatic movie ending in its set up. Robert even had gotten to the point of having a gun to point at James. Artie tried to breathe slowly, the panic attempting to take over.
“Now is the end, Robert,” James said sounding calm. “Your twelve days of joy riding are up.”
“Not quite yet,” Robert said, “and you're not going to take it away from me. I can still get away with killing you.”
Artie tensed as Robert's hand began to move on the trigger. There was no way Artie would lose James to a bastard like this. Quickly he slid out from his hiding place, Tesla raised and locked eyes with James.
“Arthur!” James shouted.
Robert turned automatically just at Artie fired the Tesla, hitting the man in the chest. He flew back, the gun falling out of his hands, and landed unconscious on the floor. James walked over and pulled the boot off of his foot. James grinned and looked up at Arthur as he walked over to stand in front of him. James held up the boot.
“Job done.”
Artie felt a wash of happiness flood over him seeing James, not shot, standing there victorious. He didn't realize until then how worried he'd been over just that small moment of danger to James' life. Another piece clicked into place.
'Oh...' Artie thought.
Leaving Robert in the hands of the local police to explain his shouting in a hotel with a gun as well as some outstanding bar and hotel bills, the two Warehouse agents headed off to their own inn for the night.
“Nice shooting tonight, Arthur,” James said as they walked down the hall to their room, boot safely stowed in the car.
“Well, big open hotel lobbies are my specialty.”
James laughed vaguely then the two of them fell silent, an awkward feeling settling in.
James stopped two rooms down from their's and turned to look at Artie. He breathed in quickly like he was preparing to give a speech which tipped Artie off that he'd better start paying attention because this was going to be something. Thoughts suddenly sprang up all at once on him about touching hands and unexplainable smiles and life saving and normal every day contact that lasted a beat longer and that feeling that even teenagers know. His pulse shot up to 'just been running' point and Artie tried to remind himself that he was over fifteen years old now, with zero results.
Then James did that smile which Artie hadn't realized until just then he was in love with and everything fell perfectly into place. They stared at each other, the light really clicking on after who knew how long of it being there and James reached out to grasp Artie's wrists.
“Look, Arthur...” he started.
“I know,” Artie responded, not needing James to give whatever speech was in his head at all.
So, James closed the gap for their movie moment and kissed Artie who kissed him right back. Artie's head began to fill with the most ridiculous, hardly related thoughts as their lips moved together like, 'I can't believe we're getting to this point in Lancaster, Pennsylvania' and 'why the hell am I so short?' But even those idle thoughts were erased completely with James pulling Artie even closer by the back of his neck, tongue forcing its way into Artie's mouth. Okay, they were fifteen year olds again and damn it if Artie did not care as he griped James' hip with one hand and his coat with the other.
“Okay, wow,” Artie said when they finally came up for air, still somewhat entangled with each other.
James was looking down at him with bedroom eyes combined with a somewhat predatory, 'I got what I want now' look. Artie would have been alarmed but it seemed that rational part of his brain was overruled by the part that was very very interested in seeing what that look could do. James shook his head quickly, then practically dragged Artie down the few remaining feet to their room, pressing him against the door while he fumbled through Artie's pockets looking for the key.
“So, I can't think of anything witty or charming to say,” James said looking back up at Artie having finally found the room key in Artie's top coat pocket. “So, shall we just skip it?”
“Yeah, okay,” Artie replied quickly, taking the key from James and opening the door.
James gave him a look which a lion probably gave before it pounced then stepped inside beside Artie, closing the door with a snap behind them.
------------
Artie drove up the driveway of Colin's bed and breakfast for the morning meeting of the Warehouse agents. Jessica had taken up permanent residence at the bed and breakfast so she was bound to be already downstairs chowing down on breakfast. Stopping the car, Artie saw James' car already parked in the driveway and couldn't stop a grin. Grabbing his bag off the passenger seat, Artie got out of his car and headed into the building. He found James still in the front hall, taking off his jacket to hang on the coat stand.
“Morning,” Artie said, kissing James on the corner of his mouth.
James smiled and pulled Artie to him for a full kiss. “Hello.”
“Oh!” Artie said, rummaging through his bag and pulling out a blue tin. “I made cookies.”
James laughed. “Chocolate chip?”
Artie scoffed. “Please, oatmeal and some cherry chunk.”
“Going rich, are we?”
“Don't have any then if you're going to be critical.”
James took the tin out of Artie's hand then walked down the hall and into the parlor. Shaking his head but still smiling, Artie followed.
“Arthur baked cookies,” James said as he sat down at the table where Jessica was already stationed with a plate of eggs beside her.
“Oh?” She took the tin from him and opened it. “Yes, oatmeal raisin!”
“You didn't mention raisins,” James said, looking back at Artie.
He just shrugged and sat down, taking a stack of papers out of his bag. He passed some to James and to Jessica.
“So, the one about the duck,” Artie began.
“I checked, it really was just some stupid kids,” Jessica said.
“I told you,” James added.
“Good, then the one with the paper planes....”
“Autistic child,” James replied.
“All 1,274?”
James nodded.
“That is focus.”
“What about the cherry trees?” Jessica asked, holding up a folder.
“I think we need to look into that one,” Artie said, crossing his arms. “Anytime the term 'glowing' is used to describe fruit trees it bears another look.”
“I'm all over it,” Jessica said, closing the file and placing it beside her. “Are you two going to look into the drownings?”
Artie and James turned to each other. Artie saw the look of 'Louisiana would be nice this time of year' on James' face and turned back to Jessica.
“Just need to book a flight,” Artie replied, gathering up the rest of the papers on the table. “And I think we can leave these three for later, certainly not pressing.”
“Do you two want anything?” Colin said, suddenly poking his head in the door.
They all turned to look at the inn owner in surprise. Colin had a way of appearing much like Mrs. Frederic without anyone hearing him coming. Artie often wondered if they were related. At least Colin did appear to age.
“Coffee?” James asked.
“I'm fine,” Artie said.
“Artie did make cookies though,” Jessica said holding up the tin toward Colin.
He made an 'O' face and scurried into the parlor, taking three. He patted Artie quickly on the back in a thank you then swept out of the parlor just as quickly. Jessica stood up, scarfing down the last of her eggs as she did so.
“Time to head to the Warehouse then. Can I catch a ride with one of you two?” she asked then raised a finger. “Oh! And you should take the Conch with you when you go to Louisiana, just in case. Wouldn't want to become one of the drowners.”
“How astute,” James remarked as she walked by.
Jessica only snorted and turned down the hall. Artie stood up, reaching for his tin of cookies, and putting the top back on. Still sitting next to him, James took one of Artie's hands and threaded their fingers together. Artie looked down at him.
“Thinking lots of ridiculous romantic thoughts?” Artie asked.
“Perhaps,” James replied with a smirk.
“Well, cut it out,” Artie said, picking up the stack of papers and putting them into his bag with his other hand. “We've got to get to work.”
James just pursed his lips like a high school student thinking about skipping class.
Artie kissed James on the forehead and squeezed his hand. “Come on.”
Standing, James kissed Artie quickly then walked out of the parlor back toward the kitchen. Artie chuckled. Obviously, he could not do without the coffee. Picking up his bag and the tin, Artie walked outside to join Jessica standing by his car.
“Ready?” Artie asked as he walked over to her, opening the back door and putting his things in.
“You hang on to that one, Artie,” Jessica said.
Artie turned sharply to look at her in surprise. Jessica just gazed levelly back at him then glanced at James coming out of the front door. For someone so young Artie was continually surprised at how insightful Jessica was. She was just an old soul.
“He really loves you,” Jessica said watching James walking down the path toward them, “and that can be hard to find.”
Artie sighed then smiled at her, giving in. It was impossible to keep secrets from Jessica anyway. He looked over at James, coffee in hand.
“I know,” he said to her, “I really do.”
When Jessica was shot two months later Artie thought of that moment and didn't know why. James held his hand like it was Paul all over again and asked if he was okay.
Even though Jessica was gone, with James still there Artie was more than okay.
--------------
Artie was down in isle 783D when he suddenly heard “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” playing through the Warehouse.
“Oh, don’t you start with me,” Artie muttered to the Warehouse at large.
Climbing back down the ladder he was currently high up on, Artie took off his dark glasses and his purple gloves looking around. He couldn’t quite tell where the song was coming from. He couldn’t recall any specific artifact that played the song or any that played Nat King Cole but he didn’t have the entire Warehouse catalog memorized, yet.
Artie walked up and down the isles searching until after about 5 minutes, and the song repeating again, he realized the song wasn’t coming from anywhere specifically but seemed to be following him. Artie pursed his lips and headed over to the office, climbing the stairs and opening the door.
“Arthur.”
Turning, Artie saw James sitting in a chair next to an old record player. He smiled and stood up as Artie looked at him.
“Is that Glen Miller’s record player?”
“You heard the song out in the Warehouse, didn’t you?” James replied.
“Well, since you wanted me to hear it obviously I did, everywhere I went,” Artie tried to look angry but he knew he wasn’t pulling it off well. “Trying to be romantic are you?”
James smiled and circled around Artie with a playful smile. “Do you like the song?”
“Are you going to keep playing it in my head until I say yes?”
James laughed once. “Now you’re just being disagreeable on purpose, won’t let me get you any presents.”
“It’s a present now, is it?”
James stopped and stood in front of Artie. “You know it’s one of the safer artifacts, just sharing music between the one who plays the record and the one who they want to hear it. So, just relax and enjoy it for a moment. The Warehouse is not going to blow up over Berkeley Square.”
“James MacPherson...” Artie said trying to sound stern.
“Arthur Nielsen,” James said with a smile, stepping closer into Artie's personal space. “Come on.”
Finally, Artie’s resolve broke and a small smile crept over his face. “Well, I suppose it's all right for a little while.”
James slid his hand down Artie's arm and took his hand, holding it up. He placed his other on Artie's waist.
“Dance with me, Arthur?”
“I don't think I have a choice,” Artie replied but his tone didn't match his words.
James just raised his eyebrows and gave Artie's other hand a significant look. Artie didn't even sigh as he put his hand on James' arm and they began to slowly dance to the music just for them.
“...That certain night, the night we met, there was magic abroad in the air.”
“I feel like we're in an overly sappy 1950s movie right now...”
James scoffed and held him just a bit tighter. “You know, maybe you need a little 1950s romance now and then.”
“I don't think so.”
“You dancing in the Warehouse begs to differ, I'm afraid.”
Artie looked up at James sharply but couldn't reply as the other gazed down at him. Artie looked away, turning slowly and tired not to smile. He had to admit despite himself that it was very sweet.
“Thank you,” Artie said looking back at James.
James leaned forward, touching his forehead against Artie's.
“You're welcome.”
“...and as we kissed and said goodnight, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”
Artie smiled.
-----------------
“I mean it, Arthur, it’s a serious question.”
“James, how long have we both worked at the Warehouse?” Artie said as he walked down the isle, James behind him. “How many things have we seen that could have killed, or did kill, or would have killed more had they been left out in the world?”
“And how many things have we seen that had many applications for good?”
Artie sighed and stopped, turning to look at James.
“We can't make distinctions, you know that. Everything goes here, everything gets stored away, not to be used.”
James crossed his arms. “Oh, really? What about the vacuum cleaner?”
“That doesn't leave the Warehouse!”
“The butterfly net?”
“You know that it was needed on that mission with all the pieces of that chess set.”
“You see?” James said, that enthusiastic look Artie could not help but swoon for in his eyes. “An artifact used for good. There are so many things here which could be used out in the world instead of just hidden away, squandered.”
“Are you thinking of specific artifacts you want, James? Thinking of doing a little shopping?”
“Don't be sarcastic with me, Arthur. I'm trying to make a point.”
“Oh, you've made it, James,” Artie said, touching James' chest in a calming way. “I see what you're saying but it doesn't work that way. We can't pick and choose.”
James sighed. “If not us then who? We're the agents. It should be our discretion what artifacts stay in the Warehouse and which can be free to stay out in the world, to be used.”
“James,” Artie sighed right back. “That's bias right there. Anyone would be biased about what is good and what is bad, what needs to be locked up and what can be used to bring world peace.”
“You know that doesn't work, Tim had a ferret to prove that.”
“You know what I meant, it was an example,” Artie said, slightly exasperated then clutched James' arm and looked into his eyes. “The artifacts have to stay here, every single one. It's all or nothing.”
He let James go and continued to walk down the isle.
“What about nothing then?” James said from behind him.
Artie stopped and looked back. James was giving him a strange look. For just a moment Artie had a feeling of dread. It felt like maybe James wasn't kidding.
Then James walked over and shrugged, putting his hands on Artie's shoulders.
“Forget it,” he said, “just philosophizing.”
“How surprising.”
James laughed and kissed Artie quickly.
“So,” he said, stepping forward a bit closer so there was virtually no space between them. “I say it’s high time we let this old Warehouse alone for just a bit and get something to eat; something that's not another plate of your cookies, no matter how divine they are.”
Artie tried to be annoyed at the passing slight on his cookies but it didn't really work with James standing this close. So, he nodded instead and brushed a stray hair away from James' face.
“Yeah.” He stepped backwards once. “Dinner it is then.”
James smiled slowly. “It’s a date.”
---------------
Mr. & Mrs. James MacPherson
It was just a letter; just a letter which fell out of James’ bag when Artie accidentally knocked it to the floor. It was just a letter like any other, black ink, return address, stamp in the corner; a normal everyday, found in the mailbox letter, except that it wasn’t.
Artie held the letter where he stood frozen in front of the desk just staring. He must have read it four times at least not believing what he eyes insisted he was seeing. Now he couldn’t look away.
James was married, Mr. and Mrs., actually married. Words were flowing through Artie’s head at an alarming rate all jumbled together, ‘affair,’ ‘bit on the side,’ ‘home wrecker.’ He suddenly felt very nauseous and staggered a step over to sit down in the chair nearest to him with a loud ‘thunk.’ He still clutched the letter in his hand, unable to throw it away from himself or put it back in James’ bag. It was just some bill like everyone has to pay, things people get in the mail every day. Yet to Artie it was more like a ticking bomb.
The explosion came when the door leading to the Warehouse at Artie’s left opened and James walked through.
“Do you know Pandora’s box? I can't believe it's actually empty now. Well, I was… Arthur?”
Artie could almost hear the gears in James’ head clicking into place as he stood just a few steps in the door looking at Artie sitting motionless, not looking at him. James’ bag was where Artie had knocked it on the floor and the envelope was still clutched in Artie’s hand. If this was a dramatic romance movie now would be the point that Artie jumped to his feet and started shouting accusations, screaming and crying. Instead he slowly put the letter down on the table in front of him and turned his head to look at James, voice soft.
“You weren’t wearing a ring when I met you. I’ve never seen you wear one,” he said.
James stared back at him, lips tight with a resigned expression on his face. “I didn’t want the Warehouse to touch her.”
Artie nodded as he looked away back at the desk. His hands were flat on the surface where he kept his eyes locked. Slowly he stood up. James took a sudden step back as if Artie’s movement was already the punch the man deserved. Artie didn’t punch him though. He picked up his notebook lying on the table and his work gloves then walked past James out the door into the Warehouse. James’ sudden hand on his shoulder stopped Artie for just a moment.
“Arthur, wait, we need to talk-”
“No, we don’t,” Artie replied then walked down the stairs.
PART 2