Archive of Our Own ^beta

35 Portland row had developed a routine.

No one had to say anything about it, it wasn't a planned thing, it just sort of...slipped into place as if it were something that was supposed to happen; A natural force between its three inhabitants.

Every morning, once the postman had been and gone, Lockwood would be the one to collect it from the hall, sorting it down into 4 categories; Lucy's, George's, his and junk mail (which was usually full of important things he just didn't want to deal with which Lucy had been on his case about).

So as he always did, he picked up the few letters that had been pushed through the letterbox and made his way into the kitchen, sitting sideways to the table as he read each addressal.

Dear Lucy Carlyle. (Lucy's)

Fittes to Lockwood and Co (That could be set aside for a little)

Dear Anthony Lockwood (That was clearly his)

And then one letter in particular caught his eye.

Dear Eila Karim

Eila Karim? Could this be one of George's siblings? But why would her post have arrived at their estate, unless maybe it was from her and she'd written the wrong name on the front or something absurd?

George didn't often talk about his family, saying how he would rather not dwell on such when he had all the family he needed in Lucy and Lockwood (though the last part was more implied than actually said) but he had once shared with Lockwood that he had 3 siblings, 1 of whom he greatly missed though he knew it wasn't a good idea for him to see them again.

He turned the letter over a few times, trying to remember what George had said his sister had been called. He had two older brothers and a younger sister but what was she called? It began with an E, that he was sure of so the possibility of it being Eila was high. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely noticed as Lucy strode into the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil.

"Anything important?" She asked, rubbing her face sleepily.

"No, it's just... do you remember what George's sister's called?" He replied, finally looking away from the letter and over to her.

"Uhh, yeah, she was called Evelyn, right? Why?"

Evelyn.

Her name was Evelyn.

So who was Eila? Surely it couldn't have been George's mother? George had told Lockwood that he hadn't seen or heard from his mother in years and never intended to. From the extent of his knowledge, and from what he was able to piece together with George's small anecdotes, Lockwood knew that the woman meant nothing good and if she was contacting George now, then he would benefit from having the other two around.

"Can you go see if George is up?" He asked.

"He's in the shower," She said, "I heard it running when I came down."

"Oh...right."

"Lockwood, what's going on?"

He paused.

"I think George's mum is trying to get in contact with him, or her mail's been sent here instead, I don't know. We got a letter, this morning, addressed to Eila Karim."

Lucy wrinkled her nose in distaste, "She'd better not be or I will trace back the letter's address and pay her a little visit."

Lockwood knew she wasn't joking.

"We'll just wait and see, okay? If- If it's bad then I think I'll come along too."

Lucy gave him a sinister grin before turning back to her morning brew.

George made his way down the stairs, combing his fingers through his wet curls as he rounded the hall into the kitchen. Lockwood and Lucy were sitting at the table watching with unreadable expressions on their faces.

"Um, good morning?" He said slowly, pausing in the doorway.

There was silence for a moment, no one moving, the tension so thick George could slice it with a butter knife.

"George...who is Eila Karim?"

His blood ran cold.

He never thought he would have to hear that name again.

How?

How did they know?

How did they find out?

Was he going to be kicked out?

I mean, this meant they hated him.

It meant that he would-

"George," A hand landed on his shoulder and he blinked looking up to see Lucy, a sympathetic smile on her lips, "Why don't you come sit down for a moment?"

Lucy guided George to sit down and Lockwood watched them, worry weighing down his bones. He had watched the blood drain from his friend's face, hands shaking and Lucy - worried that he would pass out or have some kind of panic attack decided to get him sitting instead.

"Look, I'm sorry George, I know you don't want to talk about her but-"

"What?" George interrupted.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about your mum."

"My mum? Lockwood that's not..." He paused, "Oh my god, so you don't know!"

"Don't know what?!"

George sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Eila Karim isn't my mother's name..."

"Whose is it?"

He swallowed nervously, "I- uh- I wasn't always George Karim."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked carefully.

"I mean. I wasn't born like-" He took a slow, deep breath, "What I mean is that I'm trans. I was born as Eila Karim but I'm not- I swear I'm not. I didn't lie to you-!"

"Woah!" Lockwood said, taking a moment, "We know you didn't lie to us, Georgie. You are George Karim. You were always and will always be George Karim. Nothing will change that unless you want it to. Nothing here is going to change either. We still love you just as much as we always have."

A moment of silence went by.

Another and Lucy had had enough, throwing herself out of her chair and pulling George into a hug. "We love you, you know that, idiot?" She said, voice muffled against the shoulder of George's hoodie.

He laughed wetly, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes beneath his glasses, "Yeah...yeah, I think I got the message."

"Good," Lucy smiled pulling away.

"Why-? How did you find the name anyway?"

Lockwood froze.

If Eila was George's deadname then someone from George's old life was still trying to get in contact with him.

He slid the letter across the table, "This came in the mail this morning."

George looked up at them both before picking up the letter, tearing it open and pulling out the paper inside.

He read aloud.

"Eila"

He flinched, the word feeling so unwanted on his tongue

"Your father and I know where you are and this letter is proof. It was foolish of you to run away like that. Like the petty little-"

He paused, eyes tearing up again.

"Like the petty little bitch that you are. You're brothers miss their little sister and your sister lost her role model. You are a selfish young girl and you took that away from them to go and play make-believe. Well, so be it. Two can play at this game. If you're not coming back, then it looks like we'll have to come to you instead. We'll be paying a visit soon. Yours truly, mum."

George looked up at Lockwood, a tear streaking down his face and Lockwood was up in an instant, rushing over to him and pulling him into a tight embrace.

"You're going to be okay, you hear me? Nothing bad is going to happen! We- We'll call DEPRAC, we can call Barnes. I know he's a bit of a tool sometimes but he'll help, he'll get someone to stay here and look out for you or something. Anything, Georgie. You'll be okay, I promise!" Lockwood rambled, placing one hand tenderly on the back of George's head, the other on his back.

"We'll stand by you, George," Lucy said, voice low and threatening, "They won't get anywhere close to you without getting through Lockwood and me first and I mean when I say I've been waiting for the day I got to meet them because oh, the things I wish I could do and say to them."

George laughed though there was no humour behind it, just an empty, hollow laugh that Lockwood would do anything to bring back to life, as he pulled out of the hug, "It's fine," He murmured, "I'm fine, I swear. I just- I'm just shocked, this morning's been a lot."

Lockwood hated how quickly George was brushing the situation off but it was clear he had no desire to continue the topic, "Yeah, I understand and- I'm sorry if you felt like you had to come out to us. We didn't intend to force you in any way."

"It needed to be done," George said simply, "I've wanted to but- I was just afraid of how you would react. Now, I know."

Lockwood smiled fondly, "I don't think you do anything to make us hate you."

George smiled back, tear tracks drying against his cheeks.

The lingering threat of the letter loomed ahead like a shadow attempting to swallow them whole but George wouldn't let it. Not yet. For now, he would be happy. He would celebrate with himself, and with his friends that he was out, that he was accepted and that he was loved.

He would bask in the feeling of adoration for as long as the world would allow it.

And when that shadow closed in and the danger grew near, George wouldn't worry. Here, with Lockwood and Lucy, he was safe,

Here, he was happy.

Here, everything would be okay.