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The cold rips through him like a knife, flaying him open down to the bone and deeper still until it feels like even his soul is freezing. He doesn't feel his knees scraping on the frozen ground, in too much pain to notice anything so trivial. In a matter of seconds ice is forming a thin sheet over his jacket, cracking with every shuddering breath he takes, and despite his layers it feels like he'll never be warm again. He tries to reach out for that rainbow glimmer of the cape but the cold sucks the strength from him too quickly to stretch even the scant meter to his salvation and he abruptly realizes he is going to die.
As quickly as the knowledge hits him the cold starts to retreat. Frost cracks off of his fingertips and doesn't reform. Ice melts down the back of his neck and his shiver doesn't lock up all of his muscles. He's still cold, still shuddering and weak and helpless on the ground, but it doesn't feel like the life is getting frozen out of him anymore. What's more, a soft golden light, the only real color he's seen in hours, dances around him. He picks up his head.
Lucy is bowed over him. She's still incorporeal as any ghost but she's making a game effort at wrapping herself around him, eyes squeezed shut and hands hovering over his sides like she's embracing him. He waits for the sizzle of her plasm burning his coat or the chill rot of ghost touch but that soft light just flickers on like candle flame and he feels his body slowly shake off the terrible chill. Her rapier scrapes the hoarfrost when he twists to better look at her. "Lucy?"
Those dark eyes snap open and she sits back. Her mouth drops open in surprise and it startles a chuckle out of him. She scowls and it's that same one she always gets when she's annoyed with him back home and the cold retreats just a little more. "You're so stupid, losing your spirit cape like that. I thought you were going to die!"
"So did I." He turns back to their halo of light. It's not warm but it does feel more like an early spring morning than a jump in the Thames in January. He reaches past the edge of the light and hisses in a breath as that deadly chill bites into his fingertips. Lucy swats at his hand and he flinches automatically and waits to see the skin swell and turn blue. It feels cold but no moreso than the rest of him. He haltingly reaches for her and she reaches just as cautiously back. They both flinch from the first brush of his hand against hers but when nothing happens he holds his hand out and she slowly settles her palm against his. Just like the swat her hand feels cold and mostly insubstantial but they're touching and the chill of the Other Side is held at bay by their little bubble of light. "How are you doing this?"
"I don't know. I just...I'm not hurting you?"
"No."
"Good." Suddenly she pulls her hand away and the cold and surprise sting more than the impact as she slaps him. He stares at her in shock as she puffs up a bit and scowls furiously up at him. "You are not allowed to do that to me again, do you understand?" Her face crumples like she would be crying if she still had a body that could. Her northern accent gets thicker and fondness kicks him in the gut while she snarls at him. "I told you: I am not going to stand idly by and watch another agency head let one of his agents die and that includes you!"
"I'm sorry," he nearly laughs which just seems to make her angrier but he can't help it. The whiplash from nearly dying to whatever she's doing with the light makes him feel giggly and light-headed. "It's not like I meant to lose the cape."
"That's no excuse." She reaches for his jacket, hesitating just a moment before gripping the lapels and tugging it tighter around his shoulders. Nothing burns or hisses. "You are alive and I bloody well mean for you to stay that way."
He does laugh then and starts to reply but a flicker of movement draws his eye away. The village ghosts are catching up now, the first few gathering at the edge of the light. The little girl takes a tentative step forward and the light hisses where it brushes her. Lucy jumps up and he feels the press of her psychic energy gathering before it blasts out, forcing the other ghosts back. All around them the bubble of light flickers and he sucks in a breath as the deadly chill darts in before the light resettles.
Lucy swears and huddles back close to him. "Sorry, whatever this is takes a lot of energy. We need to go."
She keeps the other Visitors at bay while he struggles to his feet. Her light keeps out the worst of the cold but he still feels weak-kneed and clumsy. She hovers close, one hand wrapped around his, while he gets his legs to carry him back to the spirit cape. There's a great tear down the back but the instant he wraps it around his shoulders a pleasant warmth settles over him. Lucy hisses and lets go when the feathers brush her arm but stays close enough beside him he worries the cape might touch her. He pokes his hand out far enough for her to reach and she rolls her eyes but smiles as she takes it and together they continue off across the dead field towards the decayed shadows of the Rotwell complex. By the time they reach the fenceline the golden light has all but faded and he's back to shivering beneath the cape. The ghosts of the townsfolk gather close behind them, darting forward every now and then only to get psychically shoved back by Lucy. She's nearly staggering beside him and he's not faring much worse. "Back there, if you hadn't gotten to me in time," he says, "if I had died, perhaps...perhaps that wouldn't have been so terrible."
She scowls at him. "You wanted to freeze to death?"
"Of course not, but if I had, well. At least I would be here with you. No more charades or trying to finish conversations before the sun rises. No more fear of ghost touch." He smiles at her. "It wouldn't have been the worst thing that could happen to me."
She smiles back at him and it's so soft and sad that he immediately feels like the worst kind of person. "Lockwood," she says so softly he almost doesn't hear it over the crackle of the frost under his feet. "You need to live. Not just because I'm rather fond of you staying alive, but because you have people who need you. George needs you. Holly needs you. Even Kipps, although neither of you will admit it."
"You seem to get on alright."
"Even if somehow you became a Type Three being a Visitor is not the same as being alive. Ignoring the communcation barrier which is absolutely infuriating at times, you can't touch anything, can't feel anything. Not the same way. It's like being stuck on the other side of a glass wall. You can see and hear the rest of the world but you can't reach out to it."
"You didn't have a problem dropping Annabelle Ward's ring in my bag."
"Lockwood," she chides, smile dropping far too soon. She reaches out to touch the front of the spirit cape and her ectoplasm fizzles angrily. "You have to live," she repeats, expression somber. "Please."
There's still enough of the bubble of light that he risks opening the front of the cape just enough to reach out and place her hand against his chest, over his heart. The startled look on her face makes his heart twist. "I'll try."
She smiles up at him, lip wobbling like she'd be crying if she could. He sways towards her, like she's his center of gravity and every cell of him is caught up in her pull.
The golden light flickers out and the chill of the Other Side swoops in along with the sizzle of her hand burning his jacket. She jumps back and he quickly closes the cape again.
"You're running out of time. Quickly." She hovers close as they shuffle further into the compound, towards the screaming vortex of Sources and the path back to George and Holly and the living world.
***
The portal is just as overwhelmingly bright as he remembered. So bright in fact that he doesn't notice the Visitor off to the side of it until Lucy peels away from him. "How is the living world? Is it safe to go through?"
The ghost, a spikey-haired youth with an oddly familiar smile, laughs. "See for yourself."
One second Lucy is flickering between them, the next she's gone and it's just Lockwood and the snickering youth. Before Lockwood can work himself up to a proper panic she blinks back. "Well, that's a lot."
"What's a lot?"
"Your friends are throwing one heck of a party over there," the youth says.
"They're fighting with Rotwell's people," Lucy actually explains. "They've gotten their hands on those ghost bombs and electro-guns and who knows what else."
"Better hurry on back before they get themselves killed," the youth says.
"If he goes now he's liable to get caught in the crossfire," Lucy snaps.
"And if he doesn't the village ghosts will do the job. That is if he doesn't get sapped of his vitality first." He gives Lockwood a lazy once-over.
Lockwood pulls the cape a little tighter around himself. "George and the others are in trouble?"
The visitor nods.
Lockwood meets Lucy's worried frown with a smile. "Better not keep them waiting."
"Lockwood..."
"I'll be fine. I always am. Especially now that I have my best rapier back."
The concerned look lingers but she smiles softly back. "I'll try to draw the fighting away, give you an opening. Just don't stop moving until you've found cover, alright?"
"Right." He takes a step towards the portal and pauses. He turns back to her. "It was nice getting to actually speak with you, Lucy."
She smiles back and tucks a loose bit of hair behind her ear. He blinks and she's gone.
"Remember what she told you," the youth calls just as he steps into the malestrom of trapped spirits. "It's a madhouse over there!"