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When you agree to protect people from a dangerous ‘problem’ humanity knows little to nothing about, you're signing up for a load of trauma and mental illness.
Deppression, suicide, and anxiety are something most all agents experience. In many cases, if a ghost doesn’t kill you, the space it haunts in your brain will.
This is something Lockwood loves to ignore.
“You stay here, keep watch- tell George if anything happens, I’ll be right back.”
Lockwood says this as quickly as he can, smiling, and turns away to the dark corridor of school.
The headmaster of a Primary school had come in earlier that morning, saying teachers saw mysterious shadows of children in the early morning, and before they left at night. Ended up with a young woman ghost-locked. The agents of Lockwood and Co. were on the case immediately.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lucy says, grabbing onto the boy's shoulder and turning him around to face her. She's scowling deeply, face barely lit by the lantern in her hand. “We’re going together.”
Lockwood sighs and Lucy drops her hand and starts for an empty classroom. “Lucy”, he pleads, standing still.
It was always like this; Lockwood trying to keep Lucy out of danger- and Lucy refusing. He races to catch up with her, grabbing her hand gently. “Please-”
Lucy spins in place, and squeezes his hand. “Stop, Lockwood. This is a serious case- you're not going in there alone. The papers said there were 12 deaths, but there could be more. Come on.”
Her gaze is set on him, expression hard, and he knows he's not changing her mind. But he wishes he could.
Lockwoods bites his lip, throwing his head back exhaustively, before continuing down the hallway with Lucy's hand still in his.
o.0.o.0.o
The case doesn’t go so well.
They weren't prepared in the slightest; ended up in multiple fires and even more unanswered questions. No sources found. Lockwood supposes they will be working on this case for a while.
Lucy is angry at him, again. Apparently he was ‘too reckless’ when he lit a small bomb from where he was standing alone in a ghost filled classroom. She says he ‘should have asked for help’ and that he needs to ‘stop running into situations that could lead to his death’.
He doesn’t mean too, not really. But in any situation, Lockwood will easily put his life on the line. Almost like he wants to die.
Maybe he wasn’t the most stable person out there. It didn’t matter though.
The boy sighs, running a hand through his wet, drying hair. He looks into his steam covered reflection.
He looks tired- bags under his eyes and features dull. Sickly pale and probably too thin. Some would even say he resembles the very thing he lives to destroy.
Lockwood watches as the person in front of him’s eyebrows crease, lips pulled into a thin frown.
The thought of coffee slashes through Lockwoods conscience. He clears his throat, hoping that could clear his head, and heads downstairs.
George is already fast asleep- snores echoing through the hall of their home. Lockwood finds Lucy in the kitchen, fixing something up on the stove.
He enters quietly, practically tiptoeing to the pot of coffee he left on the counter before he cleaned up. Lucy doesn’t seem to notice his presence, very focused on whatever it is she’s doing.
Lockwood glances over his shoulder to her as he reaches over the counter-top for a mug. Her head is down and she's staring at the kettle infront of her. The boy tries to make his presence known, pouring the steaming coffee into his cup and setting the pot down louder than necessary.
He looks back to lucy; no response.
Lockwood takes his cup to the table before sitting down. His puckered lips quirk to the side and he shuffles his nose.
No response.
He taps his foot, grabbing hold of a newspaper from the center of the table before shaking it around.
Lucy stays facing the kettle; it must be very interesting.
Lockwood skims over the headlines before sighing, placing the paper back on the table.
“We’ll probably be in Tomorrow's paper,” he states, taking a sip of his coffee. “Lucky if we aren't named the ‘arson agents’. Does have a comical ring to it, though.”
He’s practically talking to himself. Nodding, Lockwood frowns down and sets his coffee on the table. “Lucy, I-”
The girl spins around instantly. “No.”
Noticing her wild, red eyes, and the incredibly stern look on her face, Lockwood immediately stands up from the kitchen chair. He approaches Lucy, arms reaching out.
“Hey- what's wrong?”
Lucy glanced down at the hands hesitating to touch her, then back up at his eyes. After seconds of eye contact- something breaks, and she squeezes her eyes shut, fists clenching.
Lockwood gains the courage to place a hand on her sweater clad shoulder. Tears leak out of Lucy’s shut eyes.
“Did you get hurt?” he takes a moment to give her a quick once over before returning to her face. He places his other hand on her other shoulder- grip tightening worriedly.
If something happened- if it was his fault-
Lucy's mouth opens as she lets out a wretched sob. Lockwood panics, taking her into an embrace. He questions what the hell is going on as he rests his chin atop her head, petting her hair.
He’s never seen her so broken. She cries into his shoulder, but does not return the embrace.
Lockwood hears her whisper something into his shirt- but it's covered by polyester and mewls. “What was that?” He questions softly, pulling away just enough to see her face.
Something twists in her expression -like she remembered something- and she pushes her hands off his chest roughly. “I hate you.”
The pressure on lockwoods chest grows heavier. “What?”
He heard her clear.
Lucy glares up at him, hair strewn and head turned down, face soaked with tears. Lockwood wants to reach out to her.
“Fuck you.”
She spits it out, and Lockwood now realizes he's also never seen her so angry. Lucy raises her head, eyes never leaving Lockwood’s. He takes a hazardous step back. Something in him, the part that is terrified to lose her, cowers.
“You are so- selfish, Anthony Lockwood. You- do you really not see what you're doing?”
Lucy seems to barely be holding herself together. Lockwood tries reaching out again. “Whatever I did I'm sorry, but can we please-” she slaps his hand away.
“Stop apologizing!” she cries, eyes wild and hands up. There's a sudden bubble of anger that rises -Lockwood tries to push down- a defensiveness that he never seems to let go of.
“Then what am I supposed to do?!”
“Just- just stop!”
Lockwood doesn’t understand why she’s so angry. Risking your life comes with being an agent. It’s the first thing you're told when you apply. Lucy has put herself in danger countless times. Why does she react like this?
He tries to level his voice. “It’s our job, Luce.” Maybe the nickname will cool down the heating ball of anger that seems ever present in Lucy.
She scoffs, throwing her head back. “But you run into these situations like you want to die, Lockwood. Do you know how- how selfish that is?”
He doesn’t understand.
Lockwood hasn’t had a family for a very long time. He never truly had friends growing up, either. Having people who cared about him -people who wanted him to be alive and well- was a foreign concept.
Taking a step forward, to get closer to her, to understand. His eyebrows are raised, hands coming up to his head. “How is that selfish Lucy?”
Lucy looks at him incredulously, new tears coming into light. “Because there are people who need you, Lockwood!?”
He stares blankly. Has anyone ever really needed him? Not really.
She takes a small step forward, swallowing hard. “ I need you.”
It’s commercial, really. Lucy is standing here and pouring her heart out to him, saying she needs him.
Lockwood has never needed someone like he needs Lucy Carlyle.
Of course, there was a part of him that wanted her. Lockwood chose to be around her: he liked her company, her sense of humor, her smile, her personality. But he mostly needed her. Because really, if she hadn’t walked in that door all that time ago, Lockwood would probably be dead by now.
Lucy continues to step closer until she's directly in front of him. Her anger has softened into a sort of plea. “I need you here,” she whispers, eyes big and bright. Something changes in the atmosphere; a shift in tone. “Please.”
Lockwood feels the overbearing need to touch her. His arms leave his side, moving on their own until they’re rested upon Lucy's hips. “I’m sorry Lucy,” he says, eyes watering. Because he is.
Lucy keeps looking up at him with a bittersweet smile. They stand in silence for a moment. It's comfortable. There's a heavy feeling in the air- they both have words to still get off their chest.
“I love you,” Lucy says into a sigh.
He really wants to kiss her.
“God, Luce,” is all he says before lowering his head and catching her lips in a searing kiss.
Lockwood pulls her into him, arms wrapping around her body. Lucy clutches onto the back of his head. “I love you,” he pants when they part for a moment. She kisses him again.
They’re both crying when they fully separate. Lockwood smiles cheesily down before resting his chin atop her head like before.
“Just- live for me. Okay?”
“You're not getting rid of me.”
Who could say no to Lucy Carlyle?