A/n: So, this would probably take place after the Empty Grave, just so you know, but like a little while afterwards. I don't think that's really relevant though.

They were both breathing hard, but the fight was far from over.

Lucy glanced at Lockwood, who was paler than usual, hand held to his side turned red and slick with blood.

"Lockwood…," she started, but he stopped her. She saw him wince as he shook his head, breathing hard and erratic when he leaned his head back against the wall.

What had started as a normal case - one for just Lockwood and Lucy to do since it was a smaller case and Holly and George were busy anyway - had turned into a suicide mission. The house they'd been sent to clear had been a small estate in a more rural area, but they'd grossly underestimated it. Nowhere in their research had the house been said to be owned by a serial killer, but that seemed to be very much the case since so far, they'd encountered not one, not two, but at least five different Visitors of varying type and hostility, including a very angry poltergeist who'd thrown a variety of sharp objects at Lockwood right after slamming him into a wall. That had been about fifteen minutes ago, and they'd yet to have time to so much as wrap the wound or anything.

They'd only just managed to find solace in their chain circle that they'd hastily set up in the entrance hall as the first thing they'd done when coming in. The door to go back out was so close, yet so far, the ten steps - six if you ran - almost ensuring your death. They'd already tried it, and they'd only had to take one step before the howling winds had started up again, the glowing shapes at the edges of the room moving in almost immediately.

"Lucy, I have a plan, but you're not going to like it," Lockwood said, squeezing his eyes shut in pain.

"Lockwood. We might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now."

He opened his eyes and glanced sideways at her. "I think I know where the Source is, but there's no way we can get it now, so your best bet is to leave and come back in the morning to find it. I'm quite sure the poltergeist's Source is in the kitchen, under a loose board or something - "

"Alright, but why are you telling me thi - hang on, my best bet?" Lucy's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest but Lockwood beat her to it.

"Listen, Lucy, I said you wouldn't like it, but the fact is that I don't think I'm going to last much longer. No, let me speak, okay? Please, Luce. Only one of us is making it out of here alive. If we want a chance of getting out, we have to run, and I don't think I can, so you run, and I'll distract it while you get out, okay?"

"No, Lockwood, you're not doing this. We'll… we'll just stay here until the poltergeist gets weaker and then we'll both go - "

"Lucy, that's still hours away. I don't think I can - ," he winced, removing his hand from his side the slightest bit to check his wound, but only ending up hissing in pain. Lucy looked at the overwhelming amount of blood with concern, eyes meeting Lockwood's. Everything they couldn't say with words, they said now with their eyes.

She couldn't argue with him, because she could see it for herself that what he said was right. He was injured badly, worse than he'd originally let on.

"If I'm going to die, at least let me use my last moments for something good," he said quietly, and she looked away.

She wanted to tell him he was being stupid, that they'd both get out of here and be fine, but there was no way she could think of that would make that true. She wanted to say no, that she could just help him out the door, but he was right when he'd said they'd only be able to make it if they ran. Even if they could run with her helping him, they'd be too slow and the Visitors would get them, and they'd both be dead anyway.

She still wanted to protest the plan, scream and shout, but she'd learnt her lesson with emotions and poltergeists and she knew it would just waste valuable time anyway. So she had no choice but to nod.

He nodded back, and they stood. She offered to help him get up but he refused, and slowly but surely stood by himself on unsteady feet. He looked as if he was about to topple at any second, and doubts went through her mind at the plan again, but there was nothing else to do.

"Wait a few seconds until I've had time to distract them, then you run, okay?"

She could only nod numbly at his instructions. Time slowed as he stumbled out of the chains, rapier held loosely in his free hand.

"You want her? You'll have to go through me," he shouted over the wind that had already started howling around him. The other Visitors started closing in, and Lockwood looked back at her. "Now, Lucy!"

She had no choice but to run.

A knife, red with rust and dried blood was found the next morning under a loose floorboard in the kitchen, just as Lockwood had said, and that night, the house was at peace, no indication whatsoever of the events and chaos that had happened just 24 hours before.

A/n: So, funny story, I actually rewrote this fic - or at least the start of it - at least three times before settling on this. Sorry about the ending being vague, but that was purposely done so I didn't have to make an actual decision on what happened, so it's open to interpretation whether Lockwood died or not, or what happened, or whatever.

Anyway, stay safe and see ya soon.

- CrowofArcadiaOaks