Chapter Text
It was hard to tell what time it was when he woke up. Mainly because there was someone in the way of Lockwood’s view of the small clock that sat on his other bedside table. Not that he minded, since the ‘someone’ in question was the one and only Lucy Carlyle. One of her arms was thrown over his chest almost protectively, as if she was trying to shield him from harm even while they were both asleep. Her other arm was tucked underneath her in a way that couldn’t be comfortable in any sense of the word, but she didn’t seem to notice. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this, and it was beginning to happen more often than it didn’t.
Not that you would ever catch him complaining.
To say that he’d slept well up until that point would be an understatement. The fact that he’d managed to sleep was an achievement in itself. The problems weren’t gone, it wasn’t like he’d just put a Lucy-shaped bandage over the source of all his anxiety and called it a day. Lockwood still couldn’t sleep through the night, not in less than three goes at least, but he was out for long enough that he didn’t have to count the hours between getting into bed and getting out of it again. No, the problems were definitely not gone.
But she made everything just a little more bearable, just by existing in such close proximity to him.
Still asleep, another of her quiet breaths ghosted across his collarbone.
And what a close proximity that was.
It had been a week since she’d broken down and told him the full reason she couldn’t sleep. Lockwood knew how much she blamed herself for everything that happened at her old agency, no matter how much he tried to persuade her otherwise. And she’d already let slip one night about the Bone Glass, but never the full story. Him. His safety, his life, his worth to her. Lockwood had been trying to wrap his head around it for seven days now. After his family died, he never expected anyone to care about him so much they’d lose sleep over it. Nor did he think he’d ever want anyone to care that much. Or vice versa.
He’d cared to that extent before, and he’d suffered because of it. Caring meant it hurt that much more when they left. It meant sleepless nights and tears and heartache and unanswered questions. He’d spent nights wide awake thinking, wishing, praying that it was a nightmare that he could wake up from. Wake up back in a world where he still had a family, where things made sense.
He was old enough to know now that he couldn’t go back to that time, even if he wanted to.
But he was also old enough to know now that it didn’t mean it was a one-off, his only chance at happiness.
Because Lucy had her arm thrown across his chest still, protective even if she wasn’t aware of it, and that made sense to him in a way that lifted a weight he’d become so used to carrying, he’d almost forgotten that it was there in the first place.
He wasn’t the only one that had lost someone before. She knew how he felt, she knew the risks of caring that much. Lucy was aware of what she was walking into and yet she opened herself up to it again anyway. Not only did she do that, she also made it abundantly clear to him that she wouldn’t stop caring about him, and neither would George.
And he’d do anything for them. Hell, he’d live for them. They made him want to live for them.
Lucy managed to show him a part of himself that he could’ve sworn died along with his parents and Jessica. It wasn't gone permanently after all, it had just gone quiet, gone dark for a little while.
All it needed was for someone to turn on the light.
He turned on his side a little, eyes sparkling as he looked at her.
Lockwood didn’t need to wake up from this. He didn’t want to anymore. This world was the one he was stuck with, and even though he missed the way things used to be he also couldn’t imagine what it would be like if that had changed where he ended up right now. It wasn’t a nightmare anymore. He had a family again.
Lucy’s eyelids fluttered. Dreaming? No, waking. She stirred, unconsciously drifting closer to him before she fully opened her eyes and looked up at him. Instantly her brows knitted together in concern. “Awake?”
“Just thinking,” he reassured her quickly. “I’m okay, I promise. Are you?”
She nodded lightly. “I think so,” she hummed. “I don’t—” Lucy interrupted herself with a yawn— “I don’t think my body’s used to actually getting more than four hours of sleep in one go. I think it finds it unsettling, so it wakes me up even if there’s not a nightmare.” She rolled over, pulling a face when she realised her arm had been trapped underneath her for the last few hours.
His heart did a somersault.
“You think it’ll get over that eventually and let you sleep?” He propped his head up on one hand against the pillow.
“Maybe, as soon as it cottons on to the fact that sometimes comfortable is a good thing,” Lucy replied with a shrug, propping herself up to mirror his position. “You know? Like just because there’s calm doesn’t mean I’m about to get decked by a storm.”
“Yeah.” Lockwood smiled. “I know what you mean.”
She sighed. “Well that’s me done for now, I’ll probably try and go back to sleep in a bit. No point in trying again straight away.”
“Want some hot chocolate in the meantime?” He barely registered the words until they were already out of his mouth, the suggestion surprising even himself. He knew what that meant. She knew what that meant.
Lucy blinked, caught off guard. “But that would mean going downstairs.”
“Yes,” he replied slowly. “Yes, it would.”
And downstairs means the stairs and Carver and Jessica and the things he liked to avoid thinking about on the days where treading water wasn’t enough to keep him from being pulled down by the tide of grief.
“Are you sure?” She looked at him carefully, eyes scanning over his face for even the slightest flicker of doubt. He didn’t give one.
“Yes.” Maybe. The truth was, he hadn’t needed to face that particular fear since their comfortable arrangement of bed-sharing started. On the days where they didn’t get back home until after nightfall, he just let Lucy lead him by the hand again like she did on that first night, tugging him gently up the stairs until they were outside his room. Then she would leave and go to her own bedroom, but sometimes he found himself wishing they’d just save time and start the night out in the same bed for once. Maybe then they might actually get a full night’s sleep. Or day’s sleep, depending on what time they got back.
Lucy sat up a little, her mind made up. “Okay. If you’re sure.” She reached over for his sock drawer and pulled out a pair to borrow. “What?” Her eyes locked with his as she caught him watching her, a soft amused smile settling on his face almost without him realising.
“I didn’t say anything,” he whispered.
“It’s cold downstairs,” she attempted to justify it further. “I can grab you a pair if you want.”
“Well they are my socks,” he teased. “But I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”
But she wasn’t looking at him, she was turning his socks over in her hands and even though Lockwood had no need to be embarrassed, he felt his face heating up as soon as he clocked why she was so interested in what he’d assumed was just a boring pair of socks.
It was, in fact, the only not boring pair of socks he owned.
“Lockwood, do these have…” Lucy almost looked mystified by them, and he couldn’t blame her. He had absolutely no idea where George found them either. “Do these have tiny rapiers on them?”
He ducked his head, trying not to laugh. “...Possibly?”
“They’re adorable!” She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, they’re perfect. Where did you even get them?”
“Christmas present from George,” he admitted with a laugh. “He’ll probably get you a pair this year. He’s cornered a very niche market of Christmas gifts and he’s adamant that I’m not allowed to step on his toes.”
“I can see why.” She separated the socks and put them on, grinning. “He’s sitting on a goldmine.”
“So I keep telling him,” he joked. The socks suited her, actually. Not that it was hard for anyone not to suit socks, considering they were socks, but still. The heels came up a little bit too far since Lucy’s feet were a few sizes smaller than his, but he almost wouldn’t have minded if she’d kept them for herself when they came back to bed.
Well, George would’ve minded, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t retrieve them after the laundry was done if he really wanted to.
Lucy stood up, surprising him by making her way around to his side of the bed. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yeah, we are,” he agreed.
She held out a hand to help pull him off the bed. “Come on, then.”
Lockwood took it gratefully, intertwining their fingers and in doing so strengthening the tether between them to keep her within reach when he faced his fears. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and let him take the lead out of the room.
The stairs were a mammoth task, one that he never would’ve been brave enough to face on his own. Carver in front, Jessica behind. Trapped, his mind supplied.
Lucy squeezed his hand again. Safe, he corrected himself.
Carver’s death glow drew his eyes to it like a magnet. It almost seemed as if the longer he looked at it, the brighter it became. Logically, he knew that was impossible. But logic didn’t really come into play here.
He wasn’t really sure where all that confidence had come from. Maybe it was just unfounded bravado, his usual mask returned for self-preservation. He was fine. Liar. Everything was fine. Liar.
Lucy’s grip on his hand loosened, and he turned around to see why. She was pulling away slowly, but her other hand had moved to his good shoulder to keep him anchored. “Can you do something for me?” She asked softly.
Lockwood found himself nodding slowly, his gaze fixed on her. “Name it,” he replied breathlessly.
“Wait here? And… and close your eyes?” She suggested.
He wasn’t sure why, but he nodded again. “Okay.” He closed his eyes and it was barely a second before he felt her guiding his hand to the bannister for stability before she brushed past him and padded down the stairs in his socks. He almost let his eyes open again — the death glow was just about visible beneath his eyelids, like when you’re trying to shut out the sun first thing in the morning — but she told him to wait, so he waited.
It seemed like forever.
It was only two minutes.
When she returned, he heard her on the stairs. His eyes stayed shut, just like she’d asked, and it was an unfamiliar sensation to be the one hearing but not seeing. His Sight was his only Talent, it was almost impossible to picture anything else. Lucy tapped him on the shoulder, coaxing his hand away from the bannister and slipping it into hers.
“You can open your eyes now,” she told him quietly.
The staircase filled with light. The lamps on the floors between had been all turned on, the lights overheard cast a golden glow over Lucy and out of the corner of his eye he could see the kitchen door was wide open, its own lighting spilling out into the hallway.
Electric lights dampen the senses. That’s why they turn their torches off before assessing a haunting. It was so simple, yet somehow he never would’ve thought of it on his own.
“I turned on the lights,” she supplied, even though that much was evident already.
“You turned on the lights,” he repeated, almost in a daze. “Is it that simple?” Lockwood could almost laugh as he turned around to look for Carver’s death glow. The combination of lights had almost completely hidden it, save for a faint wispy outline that could easily be overlooked if you didn’t know it was there. He knew it was there, but it was easier to ignore now. Now it was just Jessica’s room to deal with, but he felt a hell of a lot less trapped than before.
“If it has to be, then yeah. It’s that simple. I know this doesn’t help with—”
Lockwood cut her off. He didn’t mean to. He just threw his arms around her and the action managed to stun her into silence. Once again they’d found themselves at the perfect height, with him two steps down and just enough to balance it out. “Thank you,” he whispered. For everything.
“Anytime.” She reached up to reciprocate the hug, having finally found her voice again. She squeezed him tightly.
All it needed was for someone to turn on the light.
“No, seriously Luce. Thank you,” he insisted. “Even if it is going to cost us a fortune in electricity bills,” he attempted to joke.
He didn’t need to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes at him. “Just take it out of my wages,” she replied nonchalantly, as if she didn’t care as long as it helped. Lockwood wondered if she had any idea how much that meant to him.
When he finally pulled away, he was still a little awestruck. The words slipped out of his mouth almost as soon as he’d thought of them, and they took him by surprise. “You’re brilliant. You know that, right?”
Her gaze dropped ever-so-slightly, avoiding eye contact as she fought against a small smile. “Yeah,” she joked, before looking back up at him again. “I’m a real asset.”
Lockwood winced, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, I know, you’re never letting me forget that.”
“Never,” she teased, squeezing his hand the moment she found it with hers again.
He would expect no less.