Lockwood & Co. Oneshots and AUs

Drunk in Pain

~Word Count: 1785 words. Who would like some more angst about our favorite redhead?~

Lockwood knocked on the door loudly.

"Quill, you in there? You haven't been to work lately. Is something wrong?" He asked through the door. We got no response. He turned to me. "You sure this is the right place?"

I nodded. "This is the address he gave me."

Lockwood knocked again. "Quill? You home?"

"Piss off you feckin' tick!" An accent swore through the door. We both stepped back in suprise. Sure, Quill didn't always have the nicest greetings for us, but this was something else.

I didn't wait for Lockwood to try to reason with him through the door, I pushed past him and gave the knob a twist. To my surprise, it opened. We stepped in, making our way carefully to the man on the floor. In his hands, he clutched his old Fitties uniform. An assortment of bottles—some empty, some not—lay scattered on the floor around him. His hair wasn't slicked back like normal, a few red strands limply touched his brow. One hand clutched the tie while the other moved up to his face, holding his head in his hand. From where he was knelt down, we couldn't see his face.

Wordlessly, Lockwood picked up one of the bottles by my feet and read the label, then showed me. I recognized the brand from when I had gone shopping with Quill a few weeks earlier. It was one of his favorite types of liquor. Lockwood and I looked at each other.

He's been drinking a lot.

Lockwood set the bottle down softly while I took some confident steps towards Quill.

"Quill—"

"Didn'tcha hear me?! I said piss off!" He sneared, then lowered his voice and added, "Can'tcha leave a man in peace?"

I stood knelt to him and placed a hand on his back. I could smell the liquor he'd been downing for God knows how long. His eyes were red and wet, lost in time I suppose.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

I got no response.

Lockwood stood next to us, looking over Quill in his sorry state.

"Is it about them? The Fitties agency?" Lockwood tried.

Still, no response.

"Kat? Bobby?" I continued.

Still, no response.

I looked up at Lockwood as he said one final word.

"Ned?"

The hand clutching the tie began to shake. The other hand, covered his face as he choked out a sob. It looked like we hit the nail on the head.

Without warning or tell, Quill suddenly threw down the tie and stood up.

"And how could we have known?!" He cried. "Those bloody bastereds lied continuously! I thought we we're doin' good! But of course the fucking bitch at the top of it all was crooked! Aren't they all?"

Between the accent and the slurred speach, I could just barely make out what he was saying. Lockwood tried to settle him down, putting hands on his shoulders only for Quill's hands to viciously clutch and the collar of his coat.

"I was once great! I didn't need any damn help! I was enough! You don't know what it's like when it's gone! No! How would you, you lucky son of a bitch!" Quill forcefully shoved Lockwood away. He tripped on a few bottles empty of their contents and nearly fell to the floor.

"I loved her too, yaknow?!" Quill continued. "I cried when she died! I cried when Ned died! And I drank and drank and drank, but I couldn't forget! Got kicked out of the bar, got arrested even! But I couldn't forget..."