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“Are you alright, Sir?”, the woman’s voice bounces through a cacophony of shouts, sirens and distant thunder.
He has to repress a wince, mostly angry with himself, as his emotions are evidently painted on his face, and despite all the efforts, he can’t quite stop the spiral his mind is going through.
It certainly isn't the first time he’s found himself in such a tragic situation. He has always been able to maintain detachment, but this time he just can’t help but feel pure rage.
He knows why, of course he knows.
She lays unconscious on a stretcher, surrounded by paramedics, and as he looks at her face, he notices how it keeps turning pale blue by the second.
Adrenaline shots are given, but the pulse has now gone flat, and he would probably scream in frustration if it wasn’t for the next news he is given a moment later.
“He’s arrived, Sir.”
In the 20+ years that Detective Inspector Montagu Barnes has served at DEPRAC, he has seen countless young agents falling while on duty. It has never gotten any easier, but he prides himself that he can now handle any accidents, and the aftermath of those.
Nothing has prepared him, though, to the sight of Anthony Lockwood striding through the crowds with one purpose only written all over his anguished face: check on Lucy, who is still, frighteningly so, not breathing.
___
The rain arrives, and never leaves throughout the night.
It feels like a subtle, yet persistent hammering to his brain that keeps jumping from past to present events, and then to all possible future scenarios, as he waits at the end of a long white, sterile corridor. His gaze rests on the street lights, blurred out as they refract on the window panel.
“You should go.” Lockwood's voice pierces that deafening joke of a silence, and his words are loaded with anger.
“We don’t want you here.” , he means, and Barnes understands, truly, but he’s not able to make a move.
The simple truth is that he doesn't trust himself at driving, in the mental state he is in.
“I want to know too.”, he manages to say in the end, and Lockwood openly scoffs.
“Why? Why do you care?”.
More venom. At that point, Barnes is willing to take it all.
But then, Karim and Munro arrive, the first spitting even more accusations at him, while the girl softly reaches for Lockwood and takes from him what the Inspector believes is Lucy’s backpack. It seems rather heavy. “Just give it to George.”, he hears Lockwood muttering, as he finally lets it go.
Karim then leaves, claiming he'll bring some change very soon, while Munro offers to stay with Lockwood, but he insists to be left alone, so she ultimately makes her way out too, claiming she’ll look after Portland Row in the meantime.
Inspector Barnes is sure lingering would be seen as a major offence, but he keeps his stance, gazing at those unfocused street lights, and resumes his waiting.
___
It is unsettling how often your past comes back to you only in fragments, hard as you might try, scrambled up together by your trauma in a twisted retelling in which you are sure only about the dreadful, absolute outcome. Sometimes your mind will question the truth of those events, and yet it will still choose to abide by that version, despite the excruciating pain and the sense of guilt that will follow after.
In those fleeting moments of doubt, Montagu Barnes had wondered if he should seek professional help, once and for all.
But there was never time for that, because the night would make sure to bring more terror to the lives of many others, and he didn't deserve to be singled out in his cry for help.
“Inspector?” Lockwood's raw voice cuts through the silent film Barnes is re-living, and he's jolted back to the present, the images of a haunted woodland fading, and yet the echo of a scream hammering his nerves for much longer.
He looks back at him with probably blood shot eyes, judging by the furrowed gaze that Lockwood gives him back.
“What?”, he questions abruptly. Easy, Montagu, it's not his fault.
And so he apologises and moves close to him, pointing at the chair next.
Lockwood is twisting and pulling his own hands. He nods at Barnes’ request, so the Inspector takes a seat, mirroring his gesture.
“I don't get why you are so nervous.”
The boy is still challenging him, but Barnes can tell his fighting spirit is losing its momentum.
It's not a good sign.
Should he tell him? Should he voice his sorrow to this boy who’s already feeling lost at the thought of her leaving him for good?
Pull yourself up, Montagu. And so, Barnes straightens his back, and tries to plaster a neutral enough expression.
“You and your friends have managed to make quite an impression.” A half, deflecting answer, and certainly not a lie.
That stirs a smug smile on Lockwood’s face. It doesn’t quite reach his hollow eyes, but Barnes is satisfied with the gap between them being bridged.
They fall into silence again for some time. Lockwood cannot stay still, biting hard his lips, tapping on the floor, his eyes darting through the corridor.
“Can I get you anything?” Barnes offers. In all honesty, he doesn’t need an answer, because he knows the only thing Lockwood wants is news, but he burns to distract him from that all consuming wait.
“She shouldn’t be here.”Lockwood gives in, more to himself, probably. Barnes knows where this is heading.
“It is not your fault, Lockwood.”
“Oh, but apparently it is. - the boy snaps - George hasn’t exactly said it out loud, but he has been implying it since the first few hours we found out she was actually gone.”
“I.. I don’t know why Ms Carlyle decided to quit your agency, but surely..”
“And there hasn’t been a single day, - Lockwood cuts in again. He is indeed mostly talking to himself. - in which I haven’t thought of a way to get her back. And now it’s too la-”
“Stop it!” Barnes interjects, his voice echoing down the empty corridor. Lockwood halts, and looks at him, wanting to hear what he has to say.
But Barnes cannot give him what he craves. He cannot tell him that Lucy will be fine. The boy doesn’t deserve any false hopes.
“Look. - he starts, weighting each word carefully. - You can’t give in now, Lockwood. She is there, - he points at a distant door - still fighting. God knows how feisty Ms Carlyle is, I’ve seen that. She came back earlier. So, you do not give in just yet .”
“I need her back, Inspector.”, Lockwood finally admits.
Barnes nods, surprised how quickly his own hand shifts on Lockwood’s shoulder.
“I have tried to find a case interesting enough she would be willing to take with us.”, the boy explains, deflated.
“Then you must try harder . Look, I’m sure Ms Fittes could help you with that. High profile cases are always the first to land on her agency’s desks. Perhaps I could let your name slip in. After all, you do have made quite an impression among many people, Lockwood. You and your friends.”
There, he’s given him hope. Not only has he told him that Lucy will be fine, but there can be a chance for them to get back working together.
How sentimental of you, Montagu. Hoping he gets to have what you couldn’t.
And now he cannot retract his words. Indeed, a light has flicked on Lockwood’s gaze.
“You do that, Inspector. Please .”
“Mr Lockwood?”a nurse approaches them.
They both start and jump on their feet, quickly distancing themselves from each other.
Barnes retreats a few steps, back at the window.
It's still raining.
He has given in to his own feelings far too much this night. This is not his moment. He had that a long time ago, and it didn’t end as he hoped.
Please, let it be different this time.