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Lockwood climbed the stairs to Lucy’s attic, finding his way effortlessly in the dark house. His agent training had honed his night time senses, but even if they hadn’t, he’d climbed these stairs enough times to walk them in his sleep.
This had become his secret ritual, every night before he went to sleep, he needed to check that she was still there. Otherwise he’d lie awake for hours, watching the green light of the ghost lamp periodically flicker across his ceiling, wondering if when he woke up, she’d be gone again. Or worse, that somehow the last six months had all been a dream, that she never showed up on his doorstep at four in the morning, bleeding from a cut on her arm, seeking sanctuary. That she was still out there somewhere on her own, talking to ghosts, inching ever closer to death.
So, he climbed the stairs every night and cautiously peered in at her, lying in bed, her mouth hanging open, her hair in her eyes, one foot dangling off the side of the bed. This was all he needed, then he could lie down in his own bed, barely ten feet below her, and fall peacefully asleep.
He stepped silently up the last few stairs and looked towards her bed… she wasn’t there. Lockwood froze, his heart thumping loudly against his ribs, holding his breath as a terrible pressure built up in his lungs.
Where was she? Had she woken and gone down to the kitchen to get a glass or water or make a cup of cocoa? He usually heard her on the stairs when she did that. In fact he always kept his ears pierced for the sound so he could join her. For some reason, it always tasted twice as good when it was Lucy’s 3am cocoa.
He glanced towards the little bathroom in the corner, but all was dark and silent. The room felt cold, empty. Even the skull was absent from the window and… no. That couldn’t be.
Lockwood’s mind rebelled from what all his senses were telling him. She was gone.
No. No. No. No.
The words thudded in his chest as he ran stumbling down the stairs, taking them three at a time, practically falling down them in the dark. He checked the lounge, the library, the kitchen. He was about to check the basement when he saw something out the window, a familiar silhouette in the back garden.
“Luce?” he said, opening the back door.
She stood in the centre of the garden, looking up at a black sky.
“Lucy!” he called louder, but she didn’t seem to hear. She continued to stare at the endless void above, not a cloud or star in sight. Dread trickled down his spine like ice water.
He staggered out the door, the razor-sharp chill assaulting him as he reached for her. “Luce!” he tried to shout but it came out as a hoarse croak. Something was wrong with his voice and his hand was shaking violently with the cold as he pushed towards her. He could see the frost creeping over her and the thought that he would never reach her in time went through him like a knife.
“Lucy!” he screamed.
~~~
Lucy woke to the sound of Lockwood scrabbling at the sheets on his side of the bed. She was still only partially awake when she felt his hand connect with her arm and suddenly she was yanked towards him and he was clutching her forcefully to his chest.
“Mmph,” she said into his shoulder. “Wha’s up?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he said, though he was breathing hard and his fingers were digging into her shoulder with a bruising force.
“Uh huh,” she said, trying to pull her head back far enough to see his face. “Bad dream?”
“Yeah,” he said, from somewhere above her.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No it’s… it was nothing.”
“If it was nothing, then why did you wake me up by trying to squeeze the life out of me like an overexcited python?”
He finally seemed to realise how tightly he was holding her and his grip slackened immediately. “Oh god, Luce, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s fine, really,” Lucy said.
She wriggled her arms out from where they’d been trapped awkwardly between them. Lockwood tried to take his arm out from beneath her, clearly intending to pull away entirely, but she brought a hand up to chest and he froze. This close, if she looked up into his face they’d practically be nose to nose, so she kept her eyes averted.
She felt his heartbeat through his shirt, fast but steady. His breathing evened out as she watched the rise and fall of his chest. After a minute, she wrapped her arm around him, stroking his back soothingly and settling her cheek against his shoulder. He let his arms settle loosely around her and bit by bit, the tension left him.
“Just glad I was here,” Lucy murmured.
“Me too.”
“Otherwise you’d have been forced to constrict George and you know how grumpy he is when he’s physically attacked early in the morning.”
Lockwood’s huff of laughter blew hot across the top of her hair. “I bet he’s already up and at the Archives, trying to figure out who our new client is.”
“Are we really calling the Revenant a client?”
“Why not? I’m sure we’ve had worse.”
They lay there for a while, just breathing in the still morning air. After a time, Lucy sighed.
“Sun’s up,” she said. “Should we go get some breakfast?”
“Yeah…” Lockwood said, his arms snugging just a little bit tighter around her. “In a minute, alright?”
“Alright.”