A/n: Somehow I'm even more behind on Whumptober than when I started? Or at least I made progress and then negative progress? I don't even know. I don't even know what happened with this either. It started as a completely different idea, which may have seemed a bit ambitious but didn't happen anyway so who cares. Whatever. Just hope you enjoy what it ended up as anyway. :)

Dreams.

They were a concept so foreign to him now, his sleep almost always plagued by nightmares if anything. Now was no different and instead of simple rest, he was reliving the moment - the mistake - of letting Lucy try to connect with Annabelle Ward's ghost through the ring.

He kept seeing the way her eyes looked, so different from how they usually were, so dark and harsh as she grabbed onto him. Annabelle Ward had mistaken him for her killer, Lucy's hands desperate and rough as she'd almost strangled him. He couldn't get it out of his head, how she'd lovingly looked at him before then, and even though he knew it wasn't really Lucy looking at him that way - if it was, she'd never have done so, he didn't deserve it anyway - he still longed for her to look at him the way she had then.

Not everything was the same though. In his nightmare, even after Annabelle had been dealt with, that harshness in Lucy's gaze had remained and this time it had actually been Lucy shouting at him, telling him how he didn't deserve to be alive when he couldn't even keep his family alive.

"You're a liar!" She'd shouted, when he'd tried to defend himself half-heartedly and in vain. "You keep trying to tell yourself it wasn't your fault, when you know full well it was. Whose death will you be responsible for next? Mine? George's?"

Each word had been like a dagger to his heart, pushed in further until the stake was driven straight through and he finally woke up.

"I'm heading out to the shops. Either of you need anything?"

"More sleep," George answered, grumbling from his seat at the table.

"Well, I'll certainly keep an eye out for any good deals, but I'm afraid I can't promise anything. Luce, what about you?"

Lucy looked up at him with bleary eyes, having just woken up ten or so minutes ago. "Sleep wouldn't be bad," she mumbled, yawning. "But I do need some new gloves, but I'll go some other time and get them myself. Thanks though Lockwood," she added, offering a small smile.

Lockwood frowned. "You're sure? I'm off to get some new polaroid sunglasses myself, the gloves would be right there."

Lucy considered, but after a minute, Lockwood worried she'd dozed off in the process until she finally looked up. "Well if you see a reasonably priced, nice wool pair then I suppose it would save me a trip."

He grinned. "Alright then. I should be back in an hour or so."

"Thanks Lockwood!" Lucy shouted after him as he headed down the hallway to grab his coat and went out the door.

The cab ride was short, but it went by quicker thanks to the chatty driver he'd been stuck with.

Normally, he wouldn't mind the conversations that sometimes happened with the cab drivers, but today he was tired, the nightmare still fresh and weighing heavy on his mind. The driver didn't seem to pick up on it and went on speaking anyway, mainly a one-sided conversation that Lockwood had heard many times before from various adults.

"Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days," the driver was saying now, a sentiment shared by almost every adult Lockwood had ever interacted with, all longing for the olden days if they were old enough to remember or pitying the children of today. He almost fell asleep, but images of Lucy/ Annabelle Ward never failed to keep him alert.

Next thing he knew, he was paying for the ride, and walking into one of the more generalised agents' stores - holding wares mainly catering to agents but readily available for civilians too. It had a variety of average-grade ghost wards and defences, as well as warm yet functional clothing and of course, sunglasses. He had barely walked into the building two feet when a voice addressed him.

"Ooh, an agent, eh? What can I help you with, lad?"

Lockwood turned to look at the shopkeeper who'd spoken to him, forcing his charming smile onto his face even as he wanted nothing more to just choose some damn glasses, pick up the gloves, and go back home to sleep. But he did have a reputation to uphold, a certain image, so being sour wouldn't do today.

"Just grabbing some new gloves for a friend, and some of these here sunglasses for myself. Any deals I should be aware of?"

"Some new fancy polaroid glasses just got shipped in. Those ones over there, see?" The man gestured to beside Lockwood where bright signs with big bold letters advertised exactly that. "Good quality according to the word of Sight agents. Fairly priced too."

"So I can see." As far as good sunglasses went, they actually were quite nicely priced, but it was always a gamble when buying for work. The better the quality, the better it was, but also the more expensive, which was a bit of a problem seeing as they did break quite often, but you didn't want the cheap ones because they weren't great quality or broke even easier and it was all in all just a great big hassle.

"Let me know if you need anything else. We've just gotten a big shipment of lots of other stuff too - flares, silver charms, the like."

"I'll be sure to tell you if I need anything. Thank you again." Lockwood flashed another easy smile before turning to the array of glasses on display. Now to choose which ones were sturdy, clear, and not on the pricier side, but also most importantly, looked good on him - always the most difficult step.

He'd finally decided on a good pair that met all of his requirements, finding some nice gloves for Lucy and quickly buying them and leaving when he bumped into an old woman outside the store.

He muttered a quick apology, and that should have been that, but instead the woman paused and looked up at him with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Johnny? Is that you?"

"Er," Lockwood stuttered, slowly backing up as the woman came closer, face warming up.

"Oh, my beautiful boy, you came home! I knew they were lying - you, caught off guard by a ghost? Bollocks! You always were one of the best agents, my boy, oh!"

Lockwood was frozen. He was evidently not who this lady thought he was, but he couldn't find it in him to leave. Whoever this 'Johnny' was, he evidently had a loving family, and he suddenly found himself longing for it. Something had happened to this woman's son, and she was evidently so affected. He couldn't help but wonder if he died, who - if anyone - would care so much. He didn't have any family to get stuck on him. If he died, he doubted much would change at all. Just another grave, another death among the millions in the world daily.

A younger woman appeared at the older woman's side, seeming flustered but relieved. "There you are, Mrs. Grant! Don't go wandering off like that again, please." She seemed to notice Lockwood then, still frozen in a state of shock. She gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry. She's gone a bit batty ever since her son Johnny died a couple weeks ago. He was an agent, around your age I'd imagine. She must have mistaken you for him; I'm so sorry if she caused you any trouble at all."

The words snapped Lockwood out of his trance, at least enough to flash his smile and answer. "Oh, no, please. Don't worry about it; I understand. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," the young woman said. "Well, um, sorry again. Have a lovely day."

"You too."

He stayed there, watching the younger woman drag a disoriented Mrs. Grant across the street as the older woman kept calling out for her lost son. It was a sad scene, but not as uncommon a situation as he liked. The Problem had been the cause for many tragedies, many deaths of which the majority were unfortunately children, agents dead on the job. So many families crushed or broken because of it, because of ghosts, his own included. Maybe the adults were right in their worries.

What had the world come to?

If either Lucy or George noticed how quiet Lockwood was when he returned to 35 Portland Row half an hour later, neither of them commented on it. If he spent the majority of the rest of the day in his room or tiring himself out in the basement with rapier practice, no one said anything.

If the three went out the next day for a supply run and they saw by two women, one young, one old on the other side of the street, and Lockwood stopped short in the middle of the pavement for a few moments, freezing up before continuing on as if nothing happened, Lucy and George just shared a glance behind their leader's back.

If Lockwood went into the forbidden room the next night and left forty minutes later with a few teardrops still shining on his cheeks, Lucy and George would never know.

A/n: So it kind of went everywhere? It started with something different and ended with something else? But it still works right? I mean especially for Lockwood's character where he kind of is everywhere, like he has a death wish but also loves Lucy more than life and so wants to life for her. His whole character is a paradox. Is that the right term? Idk it's 11pm right now, do I care? No. I will post this in the morning or some other time tomorrow without a second thought no matter what lol.

Anyway, stay safe and see ya soon.

- CrowofArcadiaOaks