Star .ᐟ

Hii!

Yes, a part 2 is being written! I have about 2 scenes left to cover, and im hoping to finish it soon. A bunch of trips popped up and i got super busy and had next to no time to write.

I'm hoping to get it out in the next week or so, but i leave on another trip tomorrow...

I will tell you, part 2 is entirely in Lockwoods perspective, mostly angst until the end, and i hope i didn't go overboard on the prose.

I MISS THEM SO MUCH

Anthony Lockwood x Reader (written with female in mind, but could be read as anything)

4.2k words

Summary: During the Black Winter Lockwood is more reckless with everything including his relationships. After a case gone wrong at your fault, Lockwood is furious. Leading you to think the only thing to keep your job is to fix your mistake. Things go wrong, fast.

Warnings: ANGST, slight descriptions of wounds, depictions of a Raw Bones, light swearing, i have no idea how to bandage wounds.

Notes: First fic!!! It probably sucks but its not ai. Feel free to share any thoughts. Cross Posted on Ao3 and Wattpad.

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The winter had been labeled the Black Winter for weeks now. And while it fit the general mood of the people, you had always thought a more fitting term would be Red or Blue winter. Red for the spilt blood of agents, and the blue of the ghost touch that no agent could escape this winter. 

It’s been hard for everyone. Especially Lockwood. It was almost as if Lucy’s departure had set Lockwood up on the edge of a cliff. Like one more reckless move from him would kill him. To be fair, you and George haven't been doing great either. When Lucy left she took the heart of the company with her. 

The house had never been cleaner. George’s method of coping was stress cleaning, and you had to admit it did feel nice for everything to be clean. Not that you spent that much time at home. It felt like all day everyday the three of you would be on some sort of a case, at a client interview, or at the archives trying to learn enough to not die.

 Lockwood and co had never been busier. Lockwood turned down no case, even if they already had one booked that night. On those nights Lockwood would go alone, leaving you and George to question if he would return home that night. It felt like everything Lockwood did was for a headline in a newspaper, like he was trying to prove to Lucy that they didn’t need her to be successful. 

And it was true, from the outside, Lockwood and co had never been doing better. Cases lined up every night, famous names connected to cases, and enough money to keep the heat on all day. The house was warm, but it wasn’t cozy. 

Your thoughts were a mess as you opened up the door to the Hillstead home. Your movement -or lack of- couldn’t have been written as hesitant, but it wasn’t as forthright as it should have been. Months ago this would have been concerning. Now it was normal. 

Dying sunlight bleeds through the cracked windows on either side of the door. The house feels paused; tragedy had happened here, and would happen here again, but for now everything was calm. The air pressed down on you as you walked, like it would soon grow hands and grab all three of you. The wooden walls seemed to sag, and you weren’t sure if the floor boards would hold your weight. 

Lockwood pushed through the door past you. “George, give us the rundown.” You were almost surprised at the lack of creaking from the floor under him.

“Hillstead house. The whole family died from a stabbing attack, parents and two children under ten died.” George responded flatly. “Kids were attacked first, parents rushed in and the attacker stabbed them too.”

“That’s, awful,” You spoke, voice soft. “Was the attacker caught?” 

“Does it matter?” Lockwood butt in, tone harsh. “The victims are the ghosts here.”

“Of course it matters,” You almost spat.

George stepped in, trying to stop another fight between the two of you. “In this case it does matter, the man was caught, but the murder weapon was never found. My guess is it’s the source. And stop getting snippy with each other, if you two will remember we're on a case.”

You gave Lockwood an I told you so look, which he didn’t respond to. Fine, be that way, you wanted to scoff, but you knew George would not be thrilled. So you shut up. 

“Alright,” Lockwood addressed, not catching your eye. “Paranormal activity starts in about,” He glanced down at his watch, “Twenty or so minutes. So, we’re early. George, do you know where the problem room is?”

“On the first floor, in the long hallway, second door on the left.”

“Let's establish a circle there. Then we can start scanning for the source, hopefully we can be done by the time apparitions start forming.” 

You steeled yourself and walked towards the nursery, dragging the thick iron chain behind you. Lockwood and George stuck around just long enough to direct you to sit in the circle while they checked the attic and basement. 

It’s fine, you weren’t salty. Not. At. All. 

It’s just Lockwood treating you like you weren’t a capable agent. Again. 

You could hear Lockwood moving around in the attic, his footsteps quick and unbothered. Just because you watched where you stepped in case of not falling through floorboards didn’t mean you weren’t good at your job. You just were hesitant after what happened during Lucy’s final case. 

You shook your head, dispelling your thoughts. Thinking about that would only make you cry, and you couldn’t afford to let Lockwood see that. 

Another twenty minutes passed before you started to get bored. Through the tattered curtains the warm light quickly started to fade, leaving only a cold and inky darkness. The sun wasn’t even fully down yet but you were starting to feel that malaise. 

This was going to be a long case. 

Another ten minutes passed and the only thing that changed was the feeling of spectral presence growing. And you were bored, very bored. 

You only waited two more minutes before standing up and stepping out of the circle. Stepping towards the armoire, you decided you were going to get a head start on this part of the case. It was clear that Lockwood and George hadn’t found anything yet. 

The wooden doors of the dresser opened with a loud creak. The clothes in there were barely held together by cobwebs, and every one you touched turned to dust in your grasp. 

The otherworldly scream from behind you was the first sign something was wrong. 

The next was the sudden apparition of four different ghosts. You tried to reach for your rapier, but you left it in the circle. You tried to move and grab the salt bomb you knew you had in your pocket, but as you tried to move you felt a wave of powerful ghost lock crash into you. You tried to scream, for lockwood, for george, for anyone to save you, but you couldn’t make a sound. 

Then you got a glimpse of the ghosts. Your Sight wasn’t as strong as Lockwood’s, but you saw enough to scar you for life. The larger ghosts were Raw Bones, ribcages open in the stale air, blood and flesh dripping from every decaying bone. If you could scream you would. Luckily, it seemed the smaller ghosts did it for you. 

Screaming Spirits. You couldn’t see much of an apparition, just small patches of distortion. They kept screaming and screaming, and you had never wished for Lockwood more in your life. You were certainly going to die that night, and it only looked more certain as the largest Limbless inched towards you. 

Just as it reached out a gory hand towards you, a shining rapier poked through its ribcage. It screamed, creating a symphony with the two smaller ghosts. It disappeared with a flash, and Anthony Lockwood became visible. 

He sprung into action, rapier flashing as he drove the other ghosts away. George came in from the hallway, throwing salt bombs. It only took a minute before the ghosts were gone, and you crumpled to the ground.

For a second you thought Lockwood would rush towards you, picking your weak body off of the ground, holding you and reassuring you it was alright as you cried. Instead he started to yell. 

“What were you thinking?!” His face was almost red with fury, and he seemed to spit out the words like he couldn’t say them and get you out of his sight fast enough. 

Before you could even get a word out, your still weak mouth taking a while to create words that weren’t just screams, Lockwood started yelling again. “I leave you alone with one simple instruction, stay in the circle and keep an eye on things! And what do you do? Start messing around and almost get all of us killed!” He took a deep breath before speaking again. “George, I saw a phone in the entry way, call a cab, we’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” You gasped “But this case is important!”

“It was. Now you ruined it, we can’t finish it. We used most of our salt bombs on the ghosts rescuing you. We aren’t prepared enough. If you had been smarter we wouldn't have been in this situation.”

You wanted to curl up in a ball and die. You didn’t mean to mess anything up, you just wanted to prove you were capable. Suddenly a crash of anger washed over you, we were not going to stand here and let Lockwood yell at you like this when he had been doing the same thing the whole time. “Oh this is rich coming from you. You do the same thing all the time. You’ve made us complete more dangerous cases with less supplies. You go out and get into bad situations barely making it out all of the damn time.”

You clearly hit a nerve with that, and Lockwood's face only furrowed more. “I am the leader here, I told you to do something. What I do doesn’t matter when you have an instruction.”

You only rolled your eyes, getting to your feet and joining Lockwood in putting the circle away. 

“I’m sorry,” You finally mumbled, eyes refusing to look at him. 

“You should be.” 

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By the time you got out of the taxi Lockwood was hoarse and you had never wanted to cry more. He spent the entire drive yelling at you, and even George hadn’t stayed out of it. 

As you walked in the house you bit back the urge to slam the door. Most of your anger had faded, losing the energy to fight as Lockwood just kept yelling. 

“You know what, I’m done with you right now. Just go to your room.”

The only thing you could do was nod and comply. 

Inside the attic, with the door closed safely behind you, Lucy’s bed hit like a truck. Lucy. Lucy wouldn’t have yelled at you, in fact she would have taken your side, or even better with her there you never would have been left behind like that. 

The attic room hadn’t been the same since Lucy left, even if nothing changed. Lucy’s side was still a mess, the only thing you let Holly do was make her bed. She didn’t complain when she had to keep doing it until the sheets stopped smelling like her. 

Tears were pouring down your face now, and it took all of your will power to not let out a loud sob. You were sad and furious at Lockwood, but you also still wanted nothing more than his approval. Now you had messed everything up and he was probably considering firing you first thing tomorrow. You let yourself sit down on your bed, lay down, clothes still on, and just sob. You hoped that you could just cry yourself to a permanent sleep. 

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Sleep never came, and a few hours later the house had completely gone silent. The tears stopped hours ago, you just didn’t have the energy to cry any more. But these hours of lying in your own self pity did have one benefit. You had an idea. A stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless. 

Lockwood was mad at you because you messed up the case. You could fix it and prove to Lockwood you were a useful field agent if you went and completed the case on your own. 

Luckily when you came up you still had your kit bag and belt, and ever since the Annie Ward incident you kept enough salt bombs in your room to restock your supplies. Going downstairs would have been too risky. Lockwood was always up late, especially after fights. He would typically hide out in the library and brood. To think that typically you would go down and comfort him on these nights. Knowing your luck, he would be awake and the library door wide open, letting him make direct eye contact with you as you left. 

You knew a way out however. You had found it last summer when trying to find a spot to be alone. The attic window opened up wide enough to fit a human, and you could climb down the rails going up the back of the house easily. 

The window opened silently like fate wanted this to happen. You grabbed your kit, looking out into the night before you. The ghost lamp across the street flickered, bathing the street in its pale glow. With a deep breath of the cold winter air, you threw your leg out the window and started your descent. 

You didn’t have the money on you for a night cab, and frankly you didn’t want to be in one after earlier. The walk would be risky, but you could do it. The Hillstead house wasn’t too far away, and it would probably only take you a half of an hour to walk there. 

You sniffled a bit as you walked, just because you had stopped crying didn’t mean you were over what Lockwood said, and the cold winter wasn’t helping matters. No, it was quite the opposite of that. Every cruel word he said repeated constantly in your head. Which only made you more determined to fix it. To be able to slap the source down on the thinking cloth, for them to see you were still capable, for lockwood to trust you enough to not fire you. This one hour of risk would fix everything. 

The Hillstead home looked sickenly the same as earlier as you got closer. Did it know how many lives it changed? The door creaked loudly as you opened it, and you hadn’t ever walked so confidently into a haunting. 

There was a plan in your head. The ghosts freaked out as you got to the back corner on the left side of the armoire. The source had to be there. Either in it or under the floor boards. You kept your rapier out as you crept through the decrepit house, getting closer and closer to the nursery. Once in there you laid out a chain next to the dresser, and started to work. Within seconds the malaise returned at full force. 

You heard the screams first, the ghosts were clearly not happy that you were back.  You kept working, hands scrambling to find anything that could be a source. When you finally looked behind you, all four ghosts were there and visible. threw a salt bomb behind you, not aiming for any one in particular, and not checking where it landed. 

Suddenly you came to the disheartening realization that you needed to move the armoire. You stood, grabbing your rapier. needing quiet to think. Throwing a few salt bombs, you started fighting off one of the Raw Bones. silently thanking Lockwood for drilling all these rapier moves into you as you dodged, ducked and attacked. 

For the second time that night, you made a major mistake. As you got deeper into the fight with the one Raw Bones, you stopped paying attention to the other one. In a split second you were flying across the room, into the armoire, ghost touch spreading up your chest.

The next hour of your life is blurry, you remember the feeling of pure desperation, relief and then it all faded to black. 

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Everything was pain when your eyes finally started to open. Trying to sit up, you looked around the room. It was still the nursery, but everything was destroyed. The armoire was toppled, and the floor boards where it used to stand were ripped out, revealing a small hole filled with cobwebs. Looking down at your body also told a story. Brilliant blue ghost touch spread across your entire chest and right arm, while your left side had a deep gash that was responsible for the puddle of blood you were lying in. In your hand you held a silver net with an old ornate knife. 

That must have been the source. You did it! 

Lockwood. 

The thought slammed into you. He would be furious. All of the medical help you needed would cost a ton, and you just got to a point where Lockwood and co could afford decent groceries. No, you couldn’t go back. Couldn’t have him see your injuries. Couldn’t look him in the eye and admit that he was right, this case was dangerous. 

Damn it, he was right. He was so right. And after the fight you couldn’t go home to him. Go home and get yelled at and potentially fired. 

There was only one place you could go. Lucy’s. 

When she left she left you a letter with her new address in case of emergencies. Earlier you were too hurt by her absence to reach out, but there was no such excuse today. You needed help or you would die. 

Standing up proved to be a challenge, every muscle in your body hurt. Using the toppled armoire you weakly pulled yourself up. One of your hands had a cut across the palm, with a faint cut on your fingers, which was likely from grabbing the knife too tightly. 

Lucy’s flat was far. Further than going home would be, but at the moment 35 Portland Row wasn’t a home to you. You left the iron chains and the source there, leaving with just your rapier and a few left over salt bombs. Keeping your grip on your rapier with your uninjured hand, and with your injured one you pressed your jacket into your bleeding side. Looking down again proved what you had thought, you needed to hurry before the ghost touch reached your heart. 

Taking another deep breath you stepped out of the nursery and then Hillstead house as a whole. Leaving the door wide open. 

Adrenaline was still coursing through your veins, which was probably the only reason you were still moving. You weren’t moving all that fast, the chill from the ghost touch and the weather settling deep into your bones. 

There was no way to check how long it took you to walk all the way there, and you didn’t trust your own pained perception of time. Eventually you were facing the door to Lucy’s flat, the number on the door matching the one that had been haunting you all winter. Steeling yourself you knocked, wincing as you lifted your arm. 

It wasn’t too loud of a knock, and you weren’t sure if it would wake a sleeping Lucy, but within seconds you could hear movement. The door was open before you knew it, and in front of you for the first time in months Lucy Carlyle stood in front of you. She looked disheveled and tired, but it was clear she hadn’t been asleep. You suddenly realized how lucky you were that she wasn’t on a case. 

Her face flashed from recognition, to worry, and to horror in a split second. You had never seen anyone look so scared before in your life. 

“W-what happened?” Her voice was shaky at best. She reached out, grabbing your shoulders, and that was when she realized the otherworldly chill only ghost touch could bring. “Where’s Lockwood?”

You flinched at the mention of him.

“That doesn’t matter now, you’re here,” Lucy gently led you inside the one room flat, her hands shaking. “Sit down on the bed, I have an adrenaline shot around here somewhere.” In wake of the Black Winter, DEPRAC started supplying agents with adrenaline shots they could use to deal with ghost touch alone, leaving hospital beds open for the rich people that could pay in full. Not young agents who were living paycheck to paycheck.

Using the time Lucy was digging around in her kitchen cupboards you had a chance to see where she had been living all this time. Skull sat on the table, the stopper closed. Takeout wrappers filled the trash can in the kitchen, with a few laying on the floor next to it. Salt bombs and flares littered every surface, along with dirty laundry. The dresser in the corner was wide open and mostly empty. Tea mugs lined the windowsill and the nightstand. 

Lucy was back by the time you fully sank into the bed, medical kit in hand and worry etched deep into her face. She held the adrenaline shot in her hand, pushing the collar of your sweater down to see the brilliant blue of your swollen shoulder. “Hold my hand if you need to, on the count of three”

You gripped her hand tightly as she counted down and gave you the injection. You sighed as she finished, but refused to let go of your hand. Lucy was here, your Lucy. The one you had spent weeks missing. 

“Can I lift up your shirt? I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

Taking the sticky blood stained jacket off of the wound was harder than expected, and your first glimpse of the wound only made your nausea worse. Lucy took in a deep breath -that was likely just to hide a gasp- at the sight of your wound. Frankly, you hadn’t wanted to look at it either.

“What happened? I’m not just talking about this wound, though I would like to know. But why is  the first time I'm seeing you, is you showing up at my doorstep more than half dead?”

“I got slammed into an armoire. At least I think so.” You spoke, grimacing as Lucy started to disinfect your wound. 

“What do you mean you think? “

“After the Raw Bones touched me I don’t remember anything.”

“Look I know I asked this before, but where is Lockwood? Because if you are this injured I don’t care how reckless he is, this does not look like a solo case.” Lucy tightened the bandages a bit too tight in her anger. “Sorry,”

“No, you're fine.” You paused, collecting your thoughts. “It wasn’t a solo case, at least not to start.” Tears started welling up in your eyes. “We went as a team, all of us, earlier today. I messed things up, Lockwood got mad and sent all of us home.” 

Lucy had always been a good listener, psychic or not. It was especially hitting hard today after all the months of dealing with Lockwood and George. George would act like he’s paying attention and then not hear a word you said. Lockwood hadn’t sat down since Lucy left, let alone have enough time to listen to you. And, well a bit of spite kept you from opening up to Holly.

“He yelled at me, and after I stewed for a bit I decided that I should finish the haunting.”

“You didn’t, tell me you didn’t.” “I think my injuries speak for themselves.” You were crying now, Lockwood’s words repeating again. “I snuck out with my kit, walked there, and finished the case by myself.”

“What was there?” Lucy seemed to be stuck in a constant state of horror since you walked in. 

“Two Raw Bones and two Screaming Spirits.” 

“Four type twos?”

You could only nod. Lucy, who had finished bandaging your side, reached out and hugged you. “Lockwood’s a dick if he made you think that you needed to finish a case like that on your own.” 

You two stayed like that, sitting in silence for a long time.

“When did Lockwood start acting like this? I know, but I need to hear it.”

You had never wanted to answer a question less. “Since you left.”

“I knew that he would be like this when I left,” She paused for a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

“I missed you all these months. So much,” You would have hugged her tighter if you could, but your side protests even at this. 

Lucy didn’t have anything else to say, at least not now. You were barely holding it together now, if you got too deep into the reasons she left, you wouldn’t be okay. 

“What did Lockwood say? I know you. This is clearly bothering you, and if there's one thing lockwood is good at is doing things completely wrong.”

“He thinks it’s my fault, and he hates me for it. He saw my mistake and it might have been the final straw. He doesn’t trust me as an agent anymore, Luce.” You let out a loud sob, choking on thick emotion that spilt out from your inner walls. 

“Well Lockwood’s a prick. We know this now, and we’ve always known. He doesn’t hate you, sweetheart. He loves you too deeply for that. He just can’t show any emotion properly.” She brought you closer into her chest as you cried.

“Now, you need sleep. There’s nothing more we can do for you or about him right now. I’ll call him in the morning and stop him from panicking. But you need sleep. Lay down, I’ll stay with you.”

You could only nod, and comply. Lucy helped you lie down in her bed, keeping from moving any bandages. She wrapped her arms around you, and her head behind yours, you heard one more murmur from her before you fell asleep. “He doesn’t hate you. Even I know Lockwood loves you.” 

Sleep dampened every pain and emotion, except for the pure, brutal tiredness, and Lucy next to you for the first time since that first awful day. 

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Thanks to @starrwrites for telling me how to format this!!

Feel free to share any thoughts at all with me!

Possibly a part two coming soon...