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you and i walk a fragile line
Lucy’s only been at Lockwood and Co. for three months. She knows it’s still fairly early on, but this argument couldn’t wait. He has a death wish and could’ve gotten them all killed. She knows it, George knows it, and Lockwood certainly knows it.
It’s the morning after their previous case. George is cooking and Lucy’s sitting across from Lockwood. He’s reading the newspaper and all she can do is stare. How has he forgotten about last night? George sets a plate in front of her and takes a seat next to her.
The two had woken early and agreed to confront Lockwood. His behaviour was alarming and Lucy had a sinking feeling that it would persist if they didn't try to nip it in the bud.
“Lockwood.” George’s voice pulls Lockwood away from the paper.
“Yes, George?” He raises an eyebrow at them, like nothing’s wrong at all. Lucy silently fumes.
“About last night–”
“What about it? We did a splendid job. All’s well that ends well.”
Lucy scoffs at that. “It didn’t end well.”
“We’re all alive,” Lockwood pointed out.
“We barely made it!” Lucy explodes, all of the pent up anger and annoyance bubbling over. “If you had let George research properly–”
“We’re fine!”
“We could’ve died!” Lucy takes a deep breath, a sad attempt to calm down. “I get that you don’t care about your life, but we would like to live!”
A frosty silence breezes into the room. Lucy’s chest is still heaving and George is uncharacteristically silent. Lockwood regards them, his dark eyes scanning her flushed face and George’s blank face.
“So, this is about me?” He tilts his head.
“This isn’t… this isn’t about you! Why are you always making it about you?” She shouts. “This is about the fact that your reckless ways are going to get us killed someday! You have got to do better, Lockwood! I’m trying to get you to want to live, but my efforts seem to be going over your head.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but George interjects. “She’s right, Lockwood. We care about you. We don’t want you to die.”
“I’m fine,” Lockwood soothes, but his eyes are distant. “I’m in control.”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” Lucy spits out. Her eyes burn and she blinks back the tears threatening.
He looks at them, a sombre expression on his face. Lucy can only imagine what he sees—her red face and glassy eyes and George’s expressionless face. “I’ll try harder to live.”
Lucy stands up and leaves the room. That’s the best he could do, she assumes. It’ll have to do.
it’s coming over you like it’s all a big mistake
“I don’t want to do this here.”
Lucy blinks appalled. The gall of this boy. “That’s what you always say when I try to talk some sense into you.”
They’re in the middle of the street. Their surroundings are dark; it’s the middle of the night and everyone who’s sane is inside safe. Not them, of course. Lockwood strolls down the street and Lucy’s right next to him.
She’s shivering. Their recent jump into the Thames has soaked her to the bone and she’s sure she swallowed half of the river. Her hair sticks to her face and she rubs her arms in an attempt to warm herself up. It’s chilly—she’s not sure if it’s actually cold outside or if it’s because of her dip, but either way she feels like death frozen over.
Lockwood gives her a beam and seemingly out of nowhere, a ball of rage uncurls in her chest. It doesn’t warm her though, it’s more of a white-hot icy feeling than a warm one.
She storms ahead of him. Her shoulders are shaking and she just wants to get home and shower and warm up.
“Luce?”
She spins around and causes him to stumble to a stop. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not! You are never sorry, Lockwood!” Tears stream down her cheeks and Lucy furiously wipes them away. “You may say you’re sorry, but you’re not sincere about it.”
“I am.”
She laughs. It’s a bitter thing. “Sure you are.”
“What did I do?” He sounds helpless and takes a step toward her.
“You’re–” She stops before taking a deep breath and continuing. “Your inability to recognise that we’re constantly in danger due to your recklessness. I care about you, Lockwood. I care too much to let you die. You may think you’re being heroic, but you’re just thoughtless. You dive into danger headfirst and never think about the consequences of your actions.”
He frowns, but says nothing.
Lucy swallows the lump in her throat. “You know you can talk to me, right?” Her voice cracks at the end, but she’s too tired to care.
“I know.” He’s looking at her pathetically and she feels another wave of tears stream down her face.
She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving him behind.
don’t leave me like this
Her hands are shaking and she’s not sure why. Scratch that—she knows why. It comes in the form of a lanky idiot.
She watches as he talks with Inspector Barnes. Her heart is still pounding painfully in her chest and she can hear the blood rushing in her ears. Lucy attempts to control her breathing, but it doesn’t help much. She closes her eyes, hoping the world stops spinning and stars stop clouding her vision.
When she opens her eyes again, she observes him. Lockwood’s trademark smile is plastered on his face as he speaks to Barnes, whose face contains a look Lucy can only describe as long-suffering. She wonders if he knows how she feels, if he realises the danger that he’s putting himself in.
Lucy watches as their conversation ends and he saunters over to her. She fights to keep her expression neutral. He joins her and they watch as DEPRAC take over.
“Ready?” He gives her a bright grin.
She gives him a nod and they climb into the Night Cab waiting. The ride back is filled with his chatter and her noncommittal noises. She wonders if he can tell she’s angry. Obviously not. He doesn't have a care in the world.
They exit the cab and Lucy goes inside while Lockwood stays behind to grab their duffles. She’s glad George isn’t home; she doesn’t want him to witness this argument.
When Lockwood enters the house and shuts the door, the energy in the air shifts. Tension crackles around them and he seems to know what’s coming.
They stand in the hallway staring at each other. He gives her a sheepish smile and she feels her rage steadily rise.
“You promised!” She shouted. “I told you not to do something and then you go and do it!”
He begins to protest but his arguments fall on deaf ears.
“You swore you wouldn’t do anything reckless. And what did you do?” She pauses. “You go and fucking jump out of the window like you’re fucking Superman or something!”
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. She knows he’s trapped.
“Luce, it’s not that big of a deal.” He tries and fails miserably at soothing her. His hands are raised in a placating gesture and she has to look away, tears beading in the corner of her eyes.
“It is . You’re my family now, Lockwood. I don’t want to lose you. You have to stop being so reckless.”
Lockwood has the decency to look ashamed. “I know.”
“Do you?” She’s still furious.
It’s silent—the calm before the storm, the eye of a hurricane. The look in his eyes is enough of an answer. She spins around and storms down the hall, into the kitchen and goes down into the basement. The steps clang as she stomps down them and it echoes.
stood there and watched you walk away
“Don’t give me that fucking look.” Lucy warns as they await the arrival of the Night Cab. George has the decency to look ashamed, but Lockwood doesn’t.
“What look?” Lockwood acts innocent.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees George facepalm and she rolls her eyes. It’s Lockwood’s first attempt whenever he’s in trouble with her—act innocent or play dumb. They often go hand-in-hand.
“Like you’re sorry.”
“I am.”
A headache pounds through her head, her temples aching painfully and she rubs them absentmindedly. This is how the arguments always start—her accusations and his insincere apologies.
She knows Lockwood has a hero complex—he always has to save someone, but it almost always ends terribly. Either he gets hurt or George does or she does. They have so many cases it’s getting difficult for them to keep up with each other.
Lucy’s exhausted and she’s sure the bags under her eyes look more like bruises.
It’s the same old story—they fight, George attempts to intervene then gives up, they say things that they shouldn’t have.
“If you hadn’t–” Lockwood’s saying.
Lucy interrupts him, her heart in her throat but her eyes ablaze. “So I’m the one at fault?”
“I’m not saying that–”
“That’s what it very well sounds like!” She can sense the incoming burning sensation behind her eyes.
She grabs her kit and sets off down the road.
“Where are you going?” Lockwood calls after her.
“I’ll walk home!” She shouts over her shoulder. “I can’t be near you right now.”
She hopes they can’t see the way her shoulders shake as she walks, the tears finally overflowing.
something keeps me holding onto nothing
Lucy stares at him. Lockwood avoids her eyes and he sets a duffle bag on the ground. George is standing awkwardly to the side, probably wishing that he was anywhere but there. Holly is next to him, looking poised and polished even though Lucy had almost just died.
She’s intently ignoring the argument that is brewing between Lucy and Lockwood. There’s a tense silence that surrounds the four. Lucy looks away from him, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She silently swallows back a wave of tears and turns her body away from them.
The ride back to 35 Portland Row is deathly quiet. Lucy wonders if she should’ve walked back, but quickly dismisses the thought. It was too dark and she didn’t fancy fighting Visitors after the Wintergarden house.
The cab drops them off and they lug the bags and themselves up the steps. George unlocks the door and they shuffle in. Lucy can only imagine the scolding she’s about to receive. She dumps her rapier into the umbrella stand and turns to face Lockwood.
He drops the bag and crosses his arms, his dark eyes boring into hers. Lucy lifts her chin.
“What did I say?” His voice is quiet, but Lucy can hear the coldness of his tone.
“I thought that–”
“No! I specifically said not to try to connect with them!” Lockwood’s voice raises and Lucy swallows.
George and Holly look uncomfortable, but they’re frozen in place. Lucy wishes she was anywhere but here.
“I’m sorry! I just–”
“Saying sorry doesn’t erase or mean anything!” He’s shouting now and Lucy flinches at his tone. “You could’ve died, Lucy! Your recklessness–”
She stifles a scoff. “ My recklessness?"
“Yes.” Ice laces his tone and words.
“This is the first time I’ve done anything that reckless!” She’s shouting now, but she can’t help it. She’s annoyed and tired and just wants to go to bed. “You’re such a hypocrite!”
He says nothing and she continues on. “Your recklessness almost always leads to near-death experiences or situations! Remember when we jumped off the roof of that warehouse because you wanted to infiltrate the Winkman’s auction, even though we know how that could’ve happened?”
Lucy stops and she’s breathing heavily, great gasps coming from her. She’s never felt like this. She hates arguing with Lockwood; it always makes her want to cry.
“I mess up once and you lecture me like I’m the problem.”
He pauses then shakes his head. “You are .”
The world stops spinning and Lucy blanches, the colour draining out of her face. Numbness slowly creeps up on her—she can’t feel her fingers or her toes and she distantly hears her heart beating, as though it’s submerged in water.
“Oh.” She takes a deep breath but it feels like she doesn’t get any air. “I see.”
There’s a look on his face. Lucy can’t decipher it—it’s gone too quick and she’s not in the mood to untangle his feelings. He rubs his face, tiredly.
“...I need space.” His words are a punch to the gut, a kick to the shin, a slap across the face.
Lucy nods and then turns on her heel and walks up the stairs. Best to maintain some dignity than none at all.
When she gets to her attic room, she turns on the shower and quickly discards her clothing. She steps in and lets the searing water warm her numb body. She doesn’t know when or why but soon her tears are mixing in with the water and she sinks to the floor, sobs wracking her body.
i can’t go back, i’m haunted
“I’m sorry it’s come to this.” Her face is solemn and Lockwood’s staring at her.
Her words slowly filter through his mind and he just can’t seem to stop gazing at her. Her fingers are fiddling with the sugar packets on the table, her fourth cup of tea already cold. He can’t complain though—he hasn’t touched any of his yet.
“I just don’t understand, Luce,” he says. “Why?”
“Because my Talent is out of control. You saw it at Aickmere’s—the poltergeist was feeding off of my feelings.” She doesn’t look at him as she speaks.
He’s confused. “Holly admitted her emotions were out of control as well! It wasn’t your fault.”
Lucy lifts her head and fixates him with a look. “Yes, it is! Because of my emotions you all could’ve died . I won’t be responsible for any more deaths, Lockwood! I’ve lost too many people I lo–care about and I refuse to be the reason I lose anymore.”
“But–”
“No. I’ve made up my mind. I’m resigning from Lockwood and Co. and nothing you—or George—say will change my mind.”
“I just don’t understand .”
She lets out a sharp laugh and he notices the slight glassiness of her eyes. “You don’t need to!”
“If this is about Holly–” He begins, his hands shaking underneath the table. Lockwood can tell his words have no effect on her.
“It’s not!” Her voice raises and he flinches. “Why do you think that! I’ve told you numerous times already that it’s because I can’t control my Talent!”
They’re garnering looks from the others inside the café.
“I just want to know why!” He's shouting now.
“You don’t get it!” Lucy cries. “I’m trying to protect you all! I can’t be the reason you die!”
“We’ll be safe together!”
“It doesn’t matter, Lockwood.” She takes a deep breath, her shoulders are stiff and her posture is rigid. “I’m not coming back.”
Her words strike his heart like a missile and he’s standing. He throws money on the table and leaves her.