The True Story of Emily Lockwood / g. karim

𝟚. 𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕟

--Emily, in truth, didn't mind the attic as much as she thought she might. It provided a stunning view of the city, and the window seat was the perfect place to read. Anthony was still struggling to get their company through to DEPRAC, but it was their dream finally coming to fruition.

❀

--The weeks that followed George's initiation were pleasant, to say the least. Neither Anthony nor Emily had been very social, so a new friend within the home was a very welcome idea. There was a small part of the girl that worried, having another person to care about and the prospect of losing them, but that faded over time.

One evening, in particular, caught Emily's attention.

"You said you could cook, but," she heard Anthony's voice from the kitchen, it sounded like he was smiling. "wow."

"Yeah," George's voice echoed through the cozy atmosphere. "my parents taught me lots of stuff." It was here that the conversation fizzled out a little awkwardly.

Emily swept into the room. "Evening," she inhaled deeply through her nose "i see I've died and went to Heaven."

George laughed, and curse her because the girl found herself wanting to hear it again and again.
"Nope, I'm just making gormeh sabzi," he explained.

"Same thing, basically," Anthony waved his hand around lazily.

It didn't take long, until the entire home was filled with the comforting aroma of spices, and Emily wouldn't have it any other way. They sat down to eat together - their first meal as a makeshift, but beautiful, little family.

"To George," Anthony toasted, lifting his teacup, his twin doing the same.

"To George," Emily repeated, and sipped the scalding liquid.

"Oh, this is amazing," Anthony hummed in happiness, and George lit up, grinning.

"I'm glad you like it," he poked around his food for a minute. "that locked door-"

"Is irrelevant." Emily snapped, surprised at her own malice, her knuckles gone white after holding her spoon. "Sorry." she mumbled awkwardly, and flushed with how she'd treated them.

"It's something we're rather not talk about," Lockwood explained, his manner very zen. That, you see, is where they differed. One, an orphaned little boy dedicating to protecting his last living relative.

And the other, who continued to blame herself for what happened that day, and each day she strived with horrible slowness to forgive herself.

"Sorry," George apologized earnestly "about your parents." Emily cleared her throat, willing that ball of emotion in her throat to disappear.

"It's in the past, now," Anthony said to both of them, but his eyes were on Emily. She forced a smile.
"Oh, almost forgot," George stood and rushed over to the oven, and pulled out a pan of flatbread. "Naan" he presented, and the awkward tension evaporated - leaving the teens  to enjoy the meal that marked their newfound kinship.

❀

Their new friend, it appeared, enjoyed tinkering. So much, in fact, that he completely rewired the training room, and had planned his next goal.

"I'm hoping to get the systems all organized, that way when we-" Anthony burst into the room, interrupting the boy.

"We have our first case!" he cheered. "Grab you gear, and let's head out." Emily's jaw dropped. 

"What? Who?" she asked, as the pair ran up the stairs. 

"Remember the florist who lives down the row? Yeah, her." He ran into his room and promptly began changing, and Emily was left dumbfounded. George stood beside.