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alifeasvivid · 5 years

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For the Record, episode 7 of The Thief of Spades

Okay... we try again. LOL. The gaps in my knowledge that come with the setting being the UK as opposed to the US is irritating and I really shot myself in the foot with that one P: Although, the idea of someone accusing Alfred of possibly being violent and Arthur being all pearl-clutchy “he would never!” about it is probably my new favorite thing so expect that to pop up in the future.

Rating: T Warnings: firearm, drugs mentioned Word count: ~1400 Summary: Obligatory Backstory Chapter: Arthur Edition!/Arthur gets a gun from good ol' Uncle Chekhov

You may read it here on AO3 as well.

♠︎

Arthur Kirkland stands at the base of the steps leading up the door of the US Embassy, looks down at his feet to watch the raindrops slide off of his boots. He sighs and heads up the steps. He wonders if being accosted by the CIA might be an acceptable excuse for his not being home on time as his mother requested.

A man in a black suit with a black umbrella opens the door for him and he enters to see Elizaveta sitting primly in the foyer and tapping away at her phone. She jumps up when she sees Arthur.

“Inspector Kirkland!” she exclaims as she shakes his hand. “I’m so pleased that you decided to join the investigation.” She’s dressed as crisply as she was when he’d met her in Kensington, though now her long hair is tied very neatly into a bun, stylishly placed low and off to the side.

“Agent Hedevary,” Arthur replies smoothly. “I was unaware I had a choice in the matter.”

“You don’t,” she retorts with a wide smile. “But I appreciate your cooperation all the same.”

“I’ll help you in any way that I can and this is certainly more exciting than all the paperwork I buried my colleague with, but truly, I don’t see how I could be of all that much use to you.”

Elizaveta hums. “You’re too modest, Inspector. Jones has taken an interest in you. All profiles of him indicate that he is perversely interested in things or people that challenge him and given his high intelligence, they can be few and far between. I wager that you will be a valuable asset in apprehending him.”

“As bait,” Arthur says wryly.

Elizaveta only nods with a sly grin. “If that is what it takes, then yes. As bait.”

Arthur raises his eyebrow, impressed.

She turns and walks down a corridor, fully expecting Arthur to follow her. “If that were the whole of it though, I would not have asked for you to be made a full part of the investigation. Many of those on my team have been dealing with him for some time. With your background and abilities, you can offer a fresh perspective.” She glances back, pleased that he has kept pace. “You are the only person in any kind of law enforcement capacity who has ever caught him. And you’ve done it twice now.”

“The only one?” Arthur asks. The “law enforcement” distinction doesn’t escape his notice, but he doesn’t press the issue for now.

“Yes. And you caught him twice,” she reiterates with no further explanation. “Maybe the third time will be the charm, yes?” She stops at the end of the hallway and gestures to an open door on the left. “Most of the paperwork for your security clearance is already completed, but there are still a few more t’s to cross, as it were. You know how it is. After you.”

Arthur steps inside, followed by Elizaveta who closes the door behind them.

A nondescript man in a clean navy suit sits at a desk and instructs Arthur to sit across from him.

“Mr. Kirkland, I am Agent Parks. We are mainly here to clarify your history and familial relationships.”

Arthur settles himself into the chair, noting that Elizaveta remains standing off to the side. “Very well. It seems my free will and agency are now null and void anyway.”

Elizaveta stifles a giggle, but the sarcasm seems to go over Parks’ head and he simply begins the interview. “For the record, you are Arthur Thomas Kirkland, born April 23rd, 1994 in London, England, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You currently live in London with your mother. You were also raised there, but we show that you were expelled from two different secondary schools.” Agent Parks’ lips purse. “Would you please explain the reasons why… for the record?”

Arthur casts a pointed look at Elizaveta. It is clear they already know the reasons and she smiles apologetically. “Yes. The first time was for engaging in sexual activity with another male student, which was prohibited by the institution.” Parks stiffens almost imperceptibly, but Arthur’s eyes miss nothing. “The second time was for disreputable conduct, willful insubordination… and ah, the distribution of ketamine and MDMA.” He finishes with an impertinent sort of fondness and hears Elizaveta snicker behind him, but Parks seems less amused.

“And you somehow then went on to obtain your Bachelor’s degree in Psychology from University College at Oxford, become a police officer, and graduate from the Detective Academy.”

The question attached to the statement is obvious and Arthur suddenly thinks that Americans should leave understatement to those better adapted to its use. To prove it, his answer is an example, “A distinguished and merciful sergeant believed that I had potential. He insisted I could do more and worked very hard to help me. If not for him, I would not be sitting before you. He impressed upon me the importance of reason and observation tempered with full submission to the truth that complete knowledge of any person or situation is impossible and the subsequent need for understanding and tact.” Arthur levels him with a gaze which refuses verbal response.

Agent Parks, in a brief moment of wisdom, says nothing.

“You have my CV, do you not? Will that not be sufficient for the rest of this portion?”

Elizaveta nods at Parks. The man signs checks a few boxes and signs a form before turning to the next page.

“Mr. Kirkland, your mother’s name is Abigail Kirkland, born September 14, 1963 in Gloucester, England?”

“Yes.”

“You also have one older brother, Dylan, and two older half-brothers, Ian and Alistair, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And your father is Oliver Clark, born March 8, 1959 in London, but he and your mother were never married.” Parks’ judgemental tone speaks volumes louder than his words.

Arthur rolls his eyes and casually leans back in the chain. “Yes, Agent Parks and no, my mother has never been married, that would explain how all four of her sons have her last name despite having three different fathers. Mr. Clark is no longer in any of our lives, for the record. Is that all for my immediate family or would you care to impugn my mother’s honor further?” he drolls, the sardonic wit seemingly still lost on the bland American.

Agent Parks glares irately over at Elizaveta, who smiles winningly in return. “Alright, Mr. Kirkland, everything appears to be in order.” He shuffles the papers around on his desk, signing off on certain forms and stapling others. “I do need you to sign this, please.” Parks slides him a pen and a sheet of paper.

Arthur picks up the pen, holding it poised, and scans the form briefly, and then lowers the pen. “Clearance for concealed carry of a firearm?” he asks. “No. Absolutely not. This is is wholly unnecessary.” He places the pen down and crosses his arms. “Americans. Honestly,” he mumbles.

Parks sighs, exasperated. “This is standard procedure for all CIA agents, Mr. Kir—”

“Well, I’m not a bloody CIA agent. I’m an inspector with the Metropolitan Police Service.” Arthur fumes. He remembers his first encounter with the Thief of Spades, feeling somehow strangely defensive of the young man. No one had needed a weapon then and despite Jones’ teasing, Arthur can easily imagine terror in his bright eyes and boyish face if held at the business end of an actual gun. “I didn’t need a weapon to capture him before. Twice, as you know, Agent Hedevary, so I don’t see why I need one now.”

Elizaveta digs into a bag, then walks forward and drops a shoulder holster and shiny black handgun onto the desk, staring at Arthur piercingly. “You are a detective, yes,” she murmurs, her American accent slipping somewhat, “and I know that you are used to having your way, but this is my investigation... and I know things that you do not,” she finishes pointedly.

Arthur sighs heavily and signs the form.

In less than an hour, he finds himself in the back of a car sitting next to Elizaveta, wearing the shoulder holster and trying to ignore the feel of the gun against his side. It’s not entirely a foreign feeling, but it remains an unwelcome one. “Might I ask where we’re going?”

Elizaveta stops tapping on her phone and beams brightly at him. “To get you up to speed and to introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Arthur rubs his hand over his face. Oh Lord.

#ukus #usuk #usuk fanfic #thief of spade au #spadian ballad #lol the number of canon characters that will be in this fic might possibly be a record for me

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