Author's Note

Lol hello ! It's been too long. Well I've officially started Christmas break :) ((But don't tell anyone I skipped the last day Shhhh))

And I think it's been three weeks since I finished The Whispering Skull and well damn as you can see I'm still not over it. And I wanted to give a shot at fluff because I really can't write proper fluffy-ness and unicorns and all that. So enjoy my fail first try hahaha

Reviews are always welcome :)

Lucy Carlyle was no stranger to the cold.

Of course, there was the cool of the air before the sun came out on a peaceful Sunday morning; the nice chilled iced tea on a hot summer's day; the nippy cold of playing in the freshly fallen snow; and the ever-popular, numbing bitterness of the bone-chilling ghosts.

Some days she welcomed it. But on that freezing January night, she'd rather the sun burnt the earth to a crisp.

An icy breeze blew into Lucy's attic, followed by a shiver traveling from her socks up to the ends of her tangled hair. Eventually, Lucy grumbled in annoyance and got up from her bed. Her cotton trousers were stripped blue and white and did little to keep the cold at bay; her only clean and ectoplasm-free garments. She looked at her pile of unwashed clothes scornfully. The mound by the corner of her room has grown rather large over the past few days.

She cursed under her breath as she drifted towards her ancient oil heater. "As soon as the sun comes up, I'm dragging Lockwood to buy me a new heater."

A few well-placed kicks set the rusty antique humming to life. Lucy huffed and nodded, satisfied. With that she returned to her now cold bed, trying to warm herself as best as she could.

Lockwood could hear his stomach grumbling. From the first landing, he could hear George humming out-of-tune while frying some eggs and bacon.

"Hearing someone sing Mariah Carey off-key can really work up an appetite." Lockwood took his usual seat at the kitchen table eagerly waiting for George to load his plate. The pudgy boy wiped his hands on the pink checkered apron.

Lockwood poured himself a cup of tea while flattening the morning's newspaper. George tutted and dropped a heaping pile of greasy food in front of Lockwood. "Only the truly gifted listeners can understand Mariah Carey's genuine musical ability."

Lockwood chuckled taking a sip from his tea. "Speaking of gifted Listeners, where's Lucy. I thought she'd be up by now."

"You think? It's only nine in the morning. She doesn't usually get up until at least ten-thirty." George said, poking the bacon. As if on cue, Lucy burst in the kitchen.

"Oh speak of the devil," George said, keeping his eyes on the frying pan.

"Hullo, Lucy. How did you sleep?" Lockwood greeted, almost choking on his tea once he noticed the girl's state.

Now there was no specific dress code when eating breakfast at Lockwood & Co. And the usual would be pajamas and Agent gear, or a rather peculiar combination of both.

Lockwood was fully clothed, ready to practice some rapier play with Esmeralda and Joe at the basement. George in his hideous blue shorts, mercifully covering enough of his chubby thighs. Today would seem perfectly ordinary, except there was only one problem.

A sneeze not unlike an atomic bomb went off followed by a violent hurricane of sniffling and blowing.

"Horribly. Thanks for asking." Lucy said with a restrained voice, her nose was red and dripping with snot. "My nose is clogged." She said lamely.

Lockwood inched closer to her, offering a cup of tea, which she gratefully accepted. "So I've heard."

George settled a plate loaded similarly like his in front of Lucy and plopped down right next to her. "You look bloody awful, Lucy. What happened to you?"

Lucy glared at George but gave up after a flurry of sneezes followed. Lucy sucked her breath, trying to rid her nose of the mucus threatening to spill out like a waterfall. "So I've noticed." Lucy said dejectedly.

Lockwood placed a hand on Lucy's forehead which the junior operative didn't seem to register. Lucy stared straight ahead, fighting to stay awake. "Blimey, Lucy. You're burning up." Lockwood concluded. "What's wrong?"

Lucy shot the boy an irritated look but cringed as she felt a flash of pain in her head. She swayed in her seat, trying to stay upright. A fit of coughing ensued and finally she said in the straightest face she could muster, "I'm sick."

With that, she fell face first into her eggs and bacon.

Several minutes later, Lockwood and George paced the sitting room. Lucy lay shivering on the long sofa attempting to get up and walk back to her room only to have George push her down and layer her with more elaborately embroidered pillows. Their breakfast sat untouched in the room next door.

Lockwood and George exploded in panic, rushing all over trying to get her ice, tea, salt bombs, blankets, - anything that could help her. They've made such a ruckus that it was hard for Lucy to explain what she really wanted. And because of her colds getting in the way, her request to be brought to her room turned into her being dragged – Lockwood by her arms and George by her feet – to the sitting room.

"Do you need anything, Lucy?" George asked for about the millionth time. Lucy wanted to complain that she was sweating like a pig and the sofa too lumpy. She wanted to land well-deserved kick on George's backside but the pillow's beads and razor-sharp sequins poked at her face. Instead Lucy slurred through the heavily decorated cushions, "I want to go upstairs."

"What was that?" George asked, leaning in closer to the Home Sweet Home adorned pillow he assumed was Lucy's head.

Lockwood leaned in with him, "I think she wants water."

"Well does she want it hot, cold or somewhere between hot and cold?" George asked scratching his head.

"I don't know, George. What do girls want to drink when they're sick?" Lockwood asked, contemplating.

"Does it matter?"

Lockwood thought for a while, "Quite right. Just get her tea."

From the other end of the couch, a groan passed, unheard from beneath the piles of pillows. "All righty. It'll be a quickie." George bustled out of the sitting room, his pink apron swishing along with him.

A moment later, Lucy was sitting upright again finally happy not to be breathing musty throw pillows that she guessed were as old as the creepy indian tribal mask grinning at her. She stretched and told the boys she wanted to go up but her mumbling was lost in the anxiety of the two Agents.

"Maybe it's that time of the month." George whispered to Lockwood in a way that did not sound like a whisper at all.

Lucy felt a vein throb. "I'm still here, you know." But she might've as well not been there.

Lockwood exclaimed, "That makes perfect sense!"

Soon enough they were making outrageous theories on how a lady's anatomy works and how to best cure the most natural cycle in the world. When the mention of inviting Flo Bones over to help Lucy came, Lucy couldn't take it any longer. "No! I am not on my bloody period! And I will be perfectly fine after you two idiots have left me to rest in my room." She stood up and stomped off, leaving the boys surprised and a bit embarrassed.

Immediately she felt bad for yelling. She knows that the boys only wanted to help, especially since she was the only girl in the household. "But they didn't have to be complete idiots doing it." She sighed.

But before she reached the first landing, a sudden dizzying wave hit her hard. Lucy felt the world slow down as if everything was underwater. She fell back, cursing herself for being so weak. She felt a pair of strong arms catch her.

What she didn't see was George hurrying out to get her medicine. She didn't see Lockwood carrying her up to her room. Though she remembered his kind warmth as he settled her into bed.

When she came around the second time, the sun was high up and Lockwood sat on a stool beside her bed. She sat up groggily, not feeling any closer to healthy but remarkably better than before. Lockwood noticed and set down a gossip magazine he was scanning.

"Good afternoon, Lucy." Lockwood smiled amiably. Lucy croaked, "Water," She coughed and tried again, "Please?" Lockwood handed her a glass from her bedside table.

"You should probably rest a bit more. George just rushed back out after forgetting to get you a new heater."

Lucy sighed contently after draining her cup. "Finally! That heater belongs in the dump where George found it."

Lockwood smiled. If Lucy was back to insulting George that meant she was returning to her usual self.

"Why don't you drink some of the medicine he bought? It's pretty effective from what I've heard and I think you'll be fine in no time."

"Thanks," Lucy said and she popped the pill in her mouth and drinking the rest of her water.

The sun had almost set, and George still wasn't back. This didn't worry Lockwood much; George was technically an Agent (even if he had as much sensitivity as a blind old man) and could take care of ghosts perfectly fine. What worried Lockwood was Lucy's unstable state. She drifted in and out of consciousness, each time her fever getting worse. (Once she even thought Lockwood was her great-uncle Jerry.)

But now Lucy was wide-awake, staring at the wooden ceiling. "Hey Lockwood,"

"Hmm?" Lockwood asked, flipping a page from his magazine.

"Tell me a story." Lucy said. Lockwood jumped, almost falling off his wooden stool.

Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, "Oh don't give me that look. Any story would do." She said. Lucy nestled in the fort of her pillows and comforters and readied herself to listen.

Lockwood coughed, "Why?"

Lucy only waved him off. "Just get on with it." Lockwood muttered something unintelligible and cleared his throat. His words came out mechanical and in shortened syllables as if he were a disembodied voice from a PA system. "Once upon a time, there was a princess from a far away kingdom…"

Lucy giggled and said, "No, stupid. I meant a story from before."

"Before?" Lockwood looked at her quizzically.

"You know…" She gestured to the attic. "About your childhood." Lucy said, shifting her position so her body faced him.

Lockwood shook his head with a look of apprehension. But Lucy waited, her piercing gaze made Lockwood uneasy. He tried to form words to gently turn the sick girl down until finally he gave in.

Lockwood gave a heavy sigh and began, "Well when I was younger, maybe seven or six, we went out to watch the fireworks display. (This was New Year's by the way) Back then fireworks were made like a diluted form of magnesium flares to ward the ghosts away. It wasn't as toxic or as dangerous to humans as it was to ghosts. Even now I still remember; it was quite a spectacular scene. I remember sitting on my father's shoulder when I couldn't see above the crowd (I was rather short then)." Lucy laughed at the thought of a tiny Lockwood.

Lockwood's eyes became unfocused and he found himself drifting father, lost in the memory. He stared ahead trying to picture that night many years ago.

"The night was alive that day. And the Thames was like a mirror; a second sky. It was just beautiful."

Lucy was silent, drinking in every detail. She could picture the sight. She closed her eyes and found herself standing beside tiny Lockwood, reliving the memories of his past.

"When the last explosion faded into smoke, my ears were ringing and my eyes still filled with stars. Next thing I knew – for reasons I can't remember – I lost my father in the crowd. I must've wandered around the sidewalk for at least an hour, but to me it felt like an eternity. I started crying as soon as the lights started going out and I was so sure I wasn't ever going to find my family again. But a young man with a rapier on his side walks up to me and asks me what was wrong.

"I thought that he looked so cool walking the dark night without a hint of fear. I spent the night trailing the Agent, he told me stories of his encounters with ghosts – he even taught me a couple of turns and jabs. Soon enough, my father found me. I felt sad when we parted ways; I wanted to know more about that world. I thought about the Agents who served to protect the city even when the world sleeps. I was star-struck. And I suppose that was when I first wanted to become an Agent."

Lockwood chuckled softly, he felt warm with the recollection. "Now that I think about it, I never caught his name." Lucy stared at him in wonder, like she was seeing the boy-leader for the first time.

Lockwood caught her gaze and prodded her forehead with his finger, "Lucy, did you take advantage of your being sick to get me to tell you about my past?" His accusation held a teasing hint.

Lucy laughed, trying to sound upbeat but her eyelids were growing heavier and her words becoming more slurred. "Now why would I do that…" Her voice trailed off, followed by the soft snores and even breaths.

The boy smiled to himself and brushed strands of hair away from Lucy's face. "That was actually pretty clever."

The boy Agent woke and he knew from the silver moonlight and his heightened shadow that midnight was close at last. He sat up awkwardly, trying to stretch out the sores in his shoulder.

He vaguely recalled resting his head on the foot of Lucy's bed. But he somehow drifted and dozed off after pulling the blanket closer to his friend.

Lockwood checked on the sleeping girl and smiled as she mumbled something in her sleep. He was about to stand and leave when he noticed his breath pluming into white mist.

From the bed, he could hear a soft shaky breath. When he looked again, Lucy was curled up and shivering ever so slightly, unconsciously wrapping the comforter around her more tightly.

"Damn. George has to be back by now. But it will take forever to set the heater up." Lockwood said. He stood in silence, weighing his options.

Lockwood was stared at Lucy, willing for the air to grow warmer yet he knew this was impossible. In a voice so soft Lockwood was unsure whether he actually heard it, Lucy mumbled, "Lockwood…"

They looked like glittering stars falling to earth. Lockwood would've stood there the whole night mesmerized. But he couldn't bear the thought of her crying. He was more concerned for what had caused Lucy's tears.

Lucy moaned and grasped her head, trying to block out the silence in the room; a voice only she could hear. "George…" She tossed and thrashed in her bed. Lucy's tears were streaming down in a cascade. In a faint cry she said, "Help me…"

Her trembling hand reached out as if to grab something about to fall. "Help me, please…" The decision was made before he had time to wonder if what he'll do next would land him in jail. Lockwood sighed, "Well, we've no choice now, do we."

Lockwood held her hand and lay down next to her. He pressed his lips to Lucy's forehead. "It's okay, Lucy. I've got you. You're going to be just fine." He whispered while stroking her hair. Lucy's skin was as cold as ice. She shivered and leaned in closer to his chest.

He kept talking, hoping his voice reaches her dreams. "No one's going to hurt you now."

With that he wrapped his arm around her waist and felt her shivering stop. Lucy's crying gradually subsided into quiet sniffling. Lockwood could feel Lucy's body relaxing and all the while he kept muttering, telling her story after story of things even he's forgotten.

He found that as he kept talking, words came flowing out easily and each memory flashed clearer then the last.

Finally, he looked down at the girl sighing contentedly and found Lucy's breaths even once again.

Lockwood smiled to himself, thankful his blushing couldn't be seen in the darkness. "You're right. I should stop talking now." With that he followed Lucy and drifted into a dreamless and peaceful sleep.