Chapter Text
Lucy POV:
Lucy looked to George, Quill & Holly all staring at where Anthony Lockwood was standing mere seconds ago, who has now been replaced with a large gaping hole in the floor. They had been called to investigate “suspicious noises” by a couple wanting to renovate this old farmhouse. So they had been setting up and preparing their equipment, when suddenly the ancient and probably rotted floorboards gave way.
Everyone stood in shock, too scared to look down to see where Anthony had fallen. The team waited with baited breath and sighed in relief as a pained moan came from downstairs. Lucy moved first, running down the stairs and making her way to Lockwood.
“Stop standing there, someone throw me the first aid kit”, she ordered, kneeling besides Lockwood’s prone form, her heart in her throat. Catching the first aid kit Quill tossed, she attempted to assess his injuries. Gently turning his head, she saw a rather large cut on his forehead and some minor scrapes on his face.
Now Holly and George had joined her, kneeling by Anthony, Quill was in the background desperately trying to get service to ring an ambulance but it would be unlikely this far in the countryside. Fortunately, they’d prearranged a taxi to pick them up, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be there for another 5 hours.
Lucy could only focus on Lockwood though, who for once was so un-Lockwood-like. He was somehow paler than usual and how still he was worried, her. Lucy knew he was breathing, but right now he looked closer to the dead than to the living.
She made her way to his chest, searching for any broken ribs. As she pressed down, Lockwood let out another pained groan, weakly trying to curl in on himself and opening his eyes to blink dazedly around the room.
Holly gently tapped the side of his face to get his attention, “Hey Lockwood, what hurts, is it your ribs?”.
“Yeah an’ my arm”, he was visibly in a lot of pain, “I think it’s broken”. In unison, everyone mumbled “shit” under their breath.
George looked over to Quill, “any luck with that ambulance?”. All he got was a panicked shake of the head.
Turning Anthony onto his back, they assessed the damage done to his arm and Lucy couldn’t help but wince at what she saw. His shoulder was out of place and the arm was definitely broken, badly broken. The three looked at eachother, anxiety lacing their features, what were they going to do.
Holly rummaged through the first aid kit, realising it hadn’t been restocked. Lucy stayed by his side, trying to keep him conscious. He had a dazed and glassy look in his eye and she worried the idiot was concussed as well.
“Lockwood, I need you to stay awake okay? We’re gonna patch you up in a minute”, Lucy tried to speak in a calm tone, hoping Anthony couldn’t hear how terrified she really was.
He blinked groggily in her direction, looking more than a little confused, “what-, what’s happened”. Well, at least Lucy knew he was definitely concussed.
Soon Holly came back with what little useful supplies she could find. She placed down some saline, a dressing for his head and thankfully, a vial of morphine used only in emergencies.
Giving up with the phones, Quill joined the team on the floor. George grabbed some scarves they had brought, two to wrap his arm and ribs and one to use as a sling, which Holly tried to place his arm in as carefully as possible. Once they were done, Holly drew up the syringe of morphine.
“No, you don’t need to do that”, Lockwood argued, suddenly more lucid than he had been since falling through the floor. Lucy couldn’t help but roll her eyes, he was such a stubborn arse.
“Yes she does, you’ve just fallen through a roof”, Lucy stated, staring down the boy on the floor, but he wasn’t backing down.
“I’ll be utterly useless”, this warranted a laugh from Quill, “Well if you haven’t noticed Tony, you’re pretty useless as is”.
Bristling at the nickname, Lockwood contemplated it silently and reluctantly nodded to Holly to go ahead. Rolling up the sleeve of his good arm, Holly injected the painkiller, disposing of the needle in her bag. There was no immediate change unfortunately, Holly said it would take effect in a couple of minutes.
Lucy looked between her friends, everyone unsure about how to continue. Eventually Lucy cleared her throat, “Okay, since we’re not going anywhere for a while, we should carry out this job. Two of us can investigate and the others stay with Lockwood”.
It was decided Quill and Lucy would investigate, with Lucy taking Lockwood’s rapier, while Holly and George moved him to a dingy couch in an equally dingy living room. Lucy took a deep breath, praying this evening couldn’t get any worse.
Lockwood’s POV:
Anthony couldn’t wait for this night to be over, or at the very least for the morphine to work quicker. George was rambling to him, maybe trying to comfort him, but the words weren’t registering. He’s pretty sure he might be a little concussed.
Both Holly and George were fussing around him, trying to make this horrible couch a little bit more comfortable. It took him a minute, but he realised Holly was speaking to him.
“-ockwood, Lockwood? Have the meds kicked in yet?” she asked concernedly, brushing a lose hair from his eyes.
He was about to respond with no, when suddenly, the temperature dropped and a banging and yells were heard further in the house. As if it was waiting for this exact moment, the morphine kicked in.
And really, somehow, Anthony didn’t mind. It was almost as if his injuries became detached from his body and his muscles relaxed. A pleasant sense of calmness came over him and suddenly, sleep sounded like an amazing idea. When did this couch become so comfortable?
As he drifted off, he heard distant, far away voices but he couldn’t tell who they were talking to or what they were saying. It’s not like the team would mind if he took a quick nap anyway, they can handle this, right?