Buried Within (Lockwood & Co Fanfic)

Dreaded Research

The library was boring.

Yet, the library was also the place Maisie decided to go; rather than seeing her father, and sitting there in the library, a book in front of her while unsure of what to do regarding the material in front of her—Maisie wondered if she regretted her decision, particularly given how she did want to see her father.

George, on the other hand—

George was obviously at home in the library, his nose in a book, pushing up the glasses on his face while looking down at the book in front of them. The worst part was, they'd been there for hours, and could they leave to go and get something to eat, given that would mean George losing his spot in the library?

"You've got to arrive early," George said. "If you want a spot." And then he said, "It's kind of one of the few things people have to do after The Problem, whereas they used to frequent movie theaters and such."

"Why don't they frequent movie theaters like they used to?" Maisie asked.

"Because most of the showings would fall into the curfew hours, but movie theaters weren't built with iron in their construction, at least not the early ones, but even when they started building the new ones that did have iron in their construction, nobody wanted to be stuck outside of the theater at night, so those business adventures ended up failing," George said. "Not that movie theaters don't bring in business, but most are closed during the week hours unless it's a holiday and people have time off from work and school. Not that us agents ever get time off from work, at least not in the smaller agencies."

"That's interesting," Maisie said, hoping he would divulge more interesting trivia regarding the changes that occurred after The Problem, which to her mother didn't seem to exist dangerously and instead existed as an "it's there, so what" kind of thing. Yet nothing happened besides George telling her what books to read, whether she was done with a particular book or a frown when she said she wasn't. There were also remarks from her about not being able to read fast.

"Don't read, skim," George said. "You're looking for anything regarding the address in question, which will give us more keywords to work with." And then came the frown. "Although, what we research here doesn't always pan out?"

"How so?"

"I'm not allowed to talk about it," George said. "Confidentiality agreement." He pushed up his eyeglasses. "The establishment is corrupt and shady, that I can tell you."

"You're a conspiracy theorist, aren't you?" Maisie said her mood of working with George on research dampened even more. The research was "Boring. Very, very boring. Which means he's boring, even if he can throw out random tidbits like that."

"Is it a conspiracy theory if it's true?"

"If it's true, why don't we know about it?"

"Because it's kept under wraps."

"Doesn't that mean it's a conspiracy theory?"

"Only to those who don't have the facts to support their theory."

"And you've got the facts."

"Confidentiality agreement," George repeated before grinning ear to ear. "But if you hang out with Lockwood & Co. as long as I have, you'll find we're very much involved with all the conspiracy theories people have come up with and thus know whether they're true or not."

And then came the silence again.

Noon came around, and she frowned. "So, what do we eat if we can't leave for lunch? Books?"

George looked up at her as if she had said something blasphemous. He then let out a sigh and pushed the coin toward her. "There's a vending machine by the library counter. Eat it in front of the librarian, though, and don't try to pocket it to eat in here. They don't like that, and I'd appreciate not getting kicked out while we've still not found anything on that house."

"Uh, yeah," Maisie said, heading to the front desk.

And there she was, staring at all the unhealthy snacks in the vending machine, ranging from chocolate that would melt and get on her fingers to flavored chips that would leave a residue.

"You're not going to find a healthy snack in there," the librarian said. "But we keep wipes up here so you can return to perusing the books."

"He said to skim the book," Maisie said. "Not read it."

"Ah. First time doing research?" the librarian asked, mouth pushed together. "You came in here with George Cubbins?"

"George? Yes," Maisie said. "I don't know his last name, though?"

"And you're a part of his agency?"

"More of like I'm helping with my mother's case, so I don't have to deal with my mother," Maisie said, hoping the woman would say that it wasn't normal to ask clients for help.

"Ah. Well, you're in good hands with Lockwood & Co," the librarian said. "They might be a bit eccentric, but they do get the job done. Although, their clients aren't always honest with them."

"Oh, my mother was honest with them," Maisie said. "Painfully so." She let out a sigh. "She kind of believes we don't have a ghost problem when there's almost a hundred percent certainty that we do. I told her that, when..."

And her mouth clammed up.

"Well, if you've been honest with them, your house won't get burned down."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just a client wasn't honest with them regarding the level of apparition they were dealing with. Had to pay a fine despite the client lying."

"And you know this because?"

"George sometimes rants, but he'll likely find what he needs either today or tomorrow."

"I should head back now," she said. "I've kind of lost my appetite hearing about them burning a house down." She arrived back at the table and took a deep breath. "What's with your agency burning a house down?"

George looked up. "That was Lockwood and Lucy."

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"The client lied," George said. "And so while it is true that Lockwood dragged Lucy, our brand new agent, in there without me properly researching the place so we would know the customer was lying and be better prepared, it doesn't change the fact that the customer lied." And then. "Ah. Here it is."

"You found something."

"Yes," George said. "There's no way whoever sold the house to your mother couldn't have known before selling the house that something was wrong." He took a deep breath, snapping the book shut. "And going in, we'll have a better handle on the situation, alright?"

"Yes, but...."

"You're not an agent. When we have all the information, we do fine. Not our fault the client told us they had a level one instead of a level two apparition, but in your case—well, you came to us not even knowing what level of apparition it is."

"Level three," she started saying.

"There are only two known cases," George said, getting up to leave. "And I'll get you something to eat on our way home."

"Wait. Don't you mean there's only one recorded case?" Maisie asked.

George smirked, pushing up his glasses. "I didn't say recorded cases."

And then he didn't go into any more of his secretive conspiracy theories, much to Maisie's annoyance. She let out a sigh, shaking her head as she did so.