Mumbling Nightmares

Chapter 14

Oh my god I am so sorry this is so late. I actually originally posted this chapter on Archive of our Own, and Chapter 15 is up there too. Anyway, enjoy!

We left the house roughly around 6:30. The sun was just beginning to peek it's face over the snow covered horizon as we clambered into the cab with sore limbs and heads full cobwebs. I fell asleep for roughly ten minutes with my head on Lockwood's shoulder, and I woke to him asleep, his cheek against the window. George was the only one awake, rapt with attention at the musty letters, His fingers were coated with dust which had fallen from the paper. I blinked at him slowly before drifting off again. I really didn't pay much mind to what he was doing. I was far to tired to care.

When we got back to the house, I took a hot shower and without another thought, clambered to bed, falling asleep on contact with the mattress. It had been a long night.

I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon in the air. I sat up, my head still muddled from sleep, and slid out of bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold floor. I slid on a sweatshirt over my nighty, and padded downstairs. The kitchen was bathed in sunlight, and I took my usual place at the table across from Lockwood, who was eating toast. George was sitting in his seat, the letters from J spread out across the table. He had photo copies of the letters laying beside each real one, small notes jotted down in the margins. I took a slice of toast from the plate in the middle, slathering it with peach marmalade. I ate slowly, taking account of the silence. Though it was short lived, and soon broken by George.

"So I went to the archives this morning." His expression was one of self-satisfaction.

I rolled my eyes. "And? Did you find anything on the identity of this mysterious 'J'?"

He shook his head. "No. I think we may have to do some digging in the house for more on him. He confessed. But if we want to find out who he is, I believe that's what we need to do. If we found something there once regarding our little mystery, we're bound to find something again."

Lockwood gave an amiable grin. "Love that optimism, George. Keep that up. We aren't going back tonight, though. We're just going to take a day to rest. I'm most likely going to be in the library if either of you need me." And with that, he shoved the last bite of his toast into his mouth, gave a closed mouth smile, and exited the room.

I sighed, my eyes resting on his plate, which he had left on the table. I stood, placing it in the sink, and then sitting back down. I soon finished my toast, and went after Lockwood to join him in the library. George gave me a quizzical look as I left and I once again rolled my eyes. I could hear him chuckle as I shut the door, striking a nerve. I steeled myself and went down the hall, entering the Library. Lockwood was draped over his usual arm chair like a decoration, his long legs over the arm rest. His long fingers turned the pages of a gossip magazine halfheartedly. He looked up when I entered the room and smiled, standing. He lay the magazine face down on the arm rest and came towards me, pulling me to him. He rested his chin on the crown of my head, his arms around me. I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent. He smelled like his favorite tea, earl grey, and cinnamon. I wasn't quite sure why with the cinnamon bit.

"Morning, Luce."

"Good morning."

He shifted, looking down at me, his dark eyes soft. "Did you sleep well?"

I nodded, giving him a half smile. "You?"

"Like a log."

I gave a short laugh, burying my nose in the crook of his neck. "How's your magazine?"

He snorted. "Trashy. There's a ludicrous rumor that Steve Rotwell has been sleeping with Penelope Fittes. That, or he's been seeing her."

I made a face. "Smashing."

"It's garbage, though. Why on earth would two rivals be together?"

"Who knows. Our relationship was unlikely, but here we are."

"Oh, Luce. We both know it would have happened one way or another. It was inevitable with how strong I feel for you."

I smiled, my cheeks blooming pink. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am. I'm the leader."

I hit him playfully on the shoulder.

"Abuse! Leader abuse!" He laughed, and I joined in, kissing him on the mouth softly. He kissed back, his slim hand cupping my cheek.

We separated and rested our foreheads together. "I love you, Luce."

I smiled, the pink in my cheeks coming back. "I love you, too."

His expression was carefree. "I don't know why I didn't tell you ever before. Ever since Combe Cary Hall. Since we almost died in those catacombs, as you almost got yourself killed in that well, I knew I needed you. I stopped you."

"You saved my life."

"Yes, and I'm glad I did, Lucy."

I rested my head on his shoulder, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. His heartbeat was erratic too from what I could hear. Neither of us wanted to pull apart, so we just kept standing there. I wrapped my arms around his slim waist. He was warm, and I could feel his lean body through the fabric of his dress shirt. It didn't surprise me with all the rapier play he does.

I finally broke the comfortable silence. "So George has no idea who J is?"

He chuckled. "No. And it's driving him bloody mad."

"I thought that was how he usually is." I said shortly; Lockwood chucked again. "I suppose it is."

He pulled me to the arm chair, which was wide enough to accommodate two people if they squished together quite a bit. This wasn't a problem for us with how slim Lockwood is. He pulled me to him so I could rest my head on his shoulder. It was nice. We spent a few more minutes in comfortable silence, and Lockwood and I had begun to flip through the pages of the magazine he had been been reading before. However, that was soon broken as George stepped through the door. He made a face, but sat down in his normal chair. The letters were in a stack in his hand.

His eyes were wild. "Why do you think J killed Elizabeth?"

I stared. "Jealousy. I read those letters, George. I was the one who found them."

"Yes, right. To find out who J is, we need to find a diary, something of Elizabeth's. Something she wrote in. She seemed to have had something with J, and the place I think she's put that information is a diary. If we find the diary, we find the killer."

Lockwood was beaming. "Brilliant." He squeezed my hand. "We have to go back tonight. Forget rest, there's no rest for the wicked. We can rest when we get back. We have a case to solve."