Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“LORRAINE MORAN! I’m not coming up there again!”

Lorraine murmured sleepily back to her mother’s hollers, sitting up in her bed; senior year. At last, she thought. One more year of being isolated, of being picked on, of being called a freak, and she would be out of there, for good. She had no interest in seeing any of her classmates after graduation, and she assumed they would feel the same. After all, years of relentless bullying hadn’t given her any sign of friendship at the godforsaken place.

She tiptoed her way towards her wardrobe, pulling her school uniform out; plaid pleated skirt, white blouse, dark blue blazer with a golden crest on it. She brushed her carefully styled curls out, snapping her suspenders in place as she sprayed a few drops of her precious ‘white shoulders’ perfume. With her pale skin, her powdered cheeks, her arched brows and blushed lips, she was a rather pretty girl, which helped slightly with the name-calling. All she needed this year was to graduate; she didn’t know what she was going to do afterwards, so much, but focusing on 12th grade proved to occupy most of her mind.

“LORRAINE!”

“I’m coming, mum,” she shouted back down the stairs, brushing her teeth quickly before running down, glancing briefly at her wristwatch; they had half an hour. “why did you rush me if we have so much time?”

“It’s not everyday that your daughter has her last first day into school,” her mother sighed across to her, gesturing her to sit at the table as her dad sat across, smirking at the chaos. Lorraine had always got on better with her father. She found him easier to talk to about the things she saw… he at least pretended to believe her, whilst her mother dismissed her completely. “Right, here’s your breakfast, Lor,” her mother muttered, handing her a plate of toast before returning to the sink, turning the wireless up.

“Hundreds of American flying forts went deep into Germany today and found the Ludwigshafen area…”

“Turn that down, wouldn’t you, Georgiana, I don’t want to hear about Nazis whilst I’m eating my eggs,” Lorraine’s father, James, complained, smirking knowingly at Lorraine who giggled at her father’s complaining.

“You two… sitting there, laughing about God only knows what, and you don’t care about how our country is doing? How our poor soldiers are living, day to day, fighting for survival?”

“Can’t we talk about something else?” Lorraine pleaded, nibbling her toast as her mother sat down at the table.

“Fine… there’s a new family moving in down the road.”

“Something interesting, mum.”

“It is interesting… I was just talking to Jane down the road whilst I was hanging up the laundry…” And whilst Georgiana muttered on and on in the gossipy way that mothers do (“you know how Jane is, already eying up the husband… he seemed completely unamused at her antics, although I was almost in tears at the gate, watching her bat her eyes and the like”), Lorraine felt the familiar pit of worry form in her stomach at the prospect of going to school, something that hadn’t changed for her since the 1st grade.

It wasn’t the learning that she hated; in fact, books had been her comfort throughout her life, and her yearning for understanding more of the world around her had kept her distracted. No, it was the sudden cold spots in the classroom, the flashes of light she caught, the visions that plagued her mind until she was screaming. For a while, she had manged to hide it from her classmates, but after suffering a sudden seizure triggered by another vision, she had earned herself the title of ‘crazy’ for the rest of her high school days.

“And then of course, the wife comes out, and she is livid… Lorraine, are you listening to me at all?”

“Yes mother,” she murmured monotonously, her gaze not lifting from her toast.

“Don’t tell me you’re seeing things again… I am tired of you making up these things… you know, Pauline said her son makes up the exact things…” Georgiana sighed dramatically, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.

“Dear, who is Pauline?”

“James, it is as if you never listen to anything I say... she's the wife of the new family… what was her son’s name… oh, I don’t know, I forget…Lorraine, why don’t you try and make a friend this year? God only knows you need one.”

“And how exactly am I to do that, if everyone at school thinks I’m mad?”

“Just… try and fit in, for once, would it be so difficult? All you do is read, walk and go to church… why don’t you go to the picture house?”

“I don’t have anyone to go with, even if I wanted to.”

“I saw Since You Went Away with Lauren the other day… gosh, I was in tears by the end of it.”

“Then you go to the picture house,” Lorraine replied glumly, receiving a light tap on her leg.

"Less of the cheek... dear girl, aren't you lonely at school? Don't you want friends?"

"Georgie, stop badgering the poor girl... our Lor has always been different to the others, haven't you, sweet?" James caressed Lorraine's cheek sympathetically, earning him a flash of a false smile before he returned to his newspaper. Lorraine slumped down in her chair, feeling smaller and as defeated as the Italians in the broadcast, as her mother and father made general conversation; the weather, the news, the neighbours…

“Trust me, those Warrens will be wishing they never moved here if Jane continues the way she is… cripes, look at the time, Lor, you best be off,” her mother started as she glanced up at the clock, practically pushing Lorraine out of the door with her school satchel, hopping out of the door as she tried to do her school shoes up on her way.

As she almost tripped down the front steps, the smell of burning puled her head up, her eyes darting across the road in curiosity. Through the grey smoke billowing out of their kitchen window, she caught a glimpse of a boy. Someone she hadn’t seen before. He looked tall, even from far away, and his dark brown hair was styled, flicking over slightly over his forehead as he stood at the end of his driveway, collecting the mail from the mailbox. Suddenly, his head raised, meeting her curious gaze as she stood, unable to walk away from him, much less form a sentence as he smiled. He smiled. He smiled at her. She automatically smiled back, her train of thought lost, spellbound at this boy. Suddenly, her mother’s face at the window. Panic. She quickly rushed down the road, practically running into the schoolyard, something she had never done in her entire school career.

After checking her timetable, she walked into her form room. All eyes, once staring blankly into space, were now fixed on her. Okay, Lorraine, she thought, just find a quiet desk at the back… everyone hates the back of this classroom, you’ll be alone, she muttered in her head, finding quick solace in the corner at the back of the classroom, slumping in relief against the cold wall as she sets her bag down, pulling her notebook out of her leather bag. She watched curiously as the other students turned their heads away from her at last, laughing over last week’s football match, or blushing over the latest Bogart photo in Seventeen. The smell of talcum powder and hairspray and cigarettes filled the classroom, and Lorraine breathed shallowly as she engraved the wooden panel on the wall next to her with her doodles.

“Hey,” a voice exclaimed to her softly, forcing her to jump out of her daydream and back into reality. She looked up to see where the voice came from; thankfully, the voice had a face attached to it. It was the boy from that morning, still smiling at her as his brown eyes sparkled down at her. “Can I sit here?”

“Yes… of course,” Lorraine answered quickly, shocking herself with her response; usually she would say she was saving that seat for a friend, and then pray for forgiveness later for lying. “I saw you earlier… didn’t I?”

“You did… Ed Warren,” he grinned back at her, extending his hand for a formal handshake, taking her slim fingers as she smiled at his politeness. Warren… so he was the son. Looking at him closer, she noticed his soft, handsome features; his sharp jawline, his Cary Grant-like hairstyle. He smelled of Pear’s soap and British Sterling cologne, a welcoming breath of fresh air from the heavy smell of smoke and sweat in the classroom. Around his neck, he wore a silver crucifix, almost identical to Lorraine’s on a gold chain around her neck.

“Lorraine Moran,” she replied to him, unable to stop herself from smiling gently at him before dropping his hand, noticing Mrs Cartwright bustle in, her files almost falling out of her arms as she dropped them on her desk, commanding the class’s attention immediately.

“Good morning, all… you should all have your textbooks except for… ah, yes, Edward Warren… here you go,” Mrs Cartwright mutters to herself, throwing a book in Ed’s direction and almost knocking him on the head, him ducking just in time for Lorraine to catch it for him.

“She does that a lot”, Lorraine whispered softly to Ed, handing him the dusty textbook before dodging the teacher’s piece of chalk, her head barely turning as she caught the powdery sharpened stick flying at her.

“No whispering at the back, Miss Moran… now, turn to page 125…”

By the time that recess rolled around, Ed had become quite the fuss in the class. Crowds of girls blushed and simpered at his dark sideburns, his styled hair, his cream slacks and faint muscles showing through his shirt. The boys slapped him on the back encouragingly, practically tackling him down to partake in their various football games and lifting him up on their shoulders like some sort of God when he scored a goal.

Lorraine sighed expectantly; of course it wouldn’t have lasted. The small glimpse of friendship she had experienced in that class had proved to her exactly why she was better off alone. She walked up to the top of the hill in the schoolyard, the furthest spot away from the rowdy football pitches and bleachers. From her school bag she pulled out her current favourite novel, The Stranger, and rested her back against an oak tree, giving her shade from the warm September sun. When she had first arrived at this school, she had found this tree, the only one not engraved with initials encircled by lovehearts. She liked that; no reminder of the loneliness she experienced. Instead, she had carved her own initials, L.M., into the bark, with a cross drawn next to it; a symbol of comfort, a place of serenity for her.

“Hello again,” a familiar voice calls to her, standing in front of her as her view of the pitch gets blocked.

“Ed? Why aren’t you down with the others?” she asks up to him, a tone of bitterness to her voice as she sets her book down at her side.

“They went off to smoke under the bleachers… can I sit here?” He asks earnestly, widening his brown eyes in delight as she slowly nods at his question, sitting himself against the trunk on her other side, smiling awkwardly as they sit in silence.

“I bet they’ll be missing you… you’ve been quite a showstopper,” Lorraine starts, her bitterness clouding her intense excitement at the prospect of sitting next to Ed.

“Well, I’m not missing them… they pulled out a dirty magazine… they’re no different to the boys at my other school,” he mutters softly, his voice gentler as he turns to face Lorraine.

“And the girls?”

“Exactly the same… its like I never left,” he sighs softly, leaning his head against the rough bark, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You don’t like the attention?”

“Who would? They don’t care about me… just as a piece of gossip for their friends, a tally to write about in their diary… I'm not like any of them anyway, not really... I hate those cliques at school."

"I know how you feel... I've never liked them... but then, they've never liked me..."

"Why?"

Lorraine paused a moment. Dare she tell him the truth? That she was labelled mad for seeing things that weren't there? Perhaps she was mad after all. No, maybe don't tell him.

"Just... girls being girls," she shrugged to him, pressing her lips together at she looked up at his face of concern slowly disappear.

"Ah... what are you reading?”

“The Stranger… have you read it?”

“Like 40 times… ‘it was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean…’”

“… ‘emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars’… I love it, it’s one of my favourites.”

“Mine too.” And, hearing those words, Lorraine’s reserved, isolated wall came crashing down, destroyed by the simple attention of this boy. The quiet, introverted girl she had been forced to become, now chatted nineteen to the dozen to Ed throughout the recess, exchanging everything from neighbourhood gossip to the local church’s address.

“You know, I think your mum’s friend has the hots for my dad.”

“I know! She was gobsmacked when she saw he was married!” Lorraine laughed along, blushing and giggling at Ed's witty conversation.

"Yes, my mum wasn't too pleased... burned the toast, almost set the entire house alight," he chuckles softly with her, his warm eyes sparkling down at her icy blue eyes, his heart skipping slightly in his chest.

"So that's what the burning smell was," Lorraine smiled widely, shaking her head in disbelief.

They held the same, juvenile, silly conversations until the bell rang, bringing her indescribable happiness to a sudden stop. Her eyes dropped slightly, turning herself away to put her book back into her satchel, before meeting his same sorry gaze.

“Well… I’ll see you around, I suppose… goodbye Lorraine.”

“Goodbye Ed,” she sighed softly, getting up from the foot of the tree, blushing softly to herself as she waited a moment before trudging back down the hill to her next lesson. So that was what she had been missing, she thought to herself. Perhaps having a friend wouldn't be such a bad idea after all...

Chapter Text

The remaining lessons dragged on endlessly for Lorraine, who, for the first time, actually longed for school to be over. She was supposed to be taking notes and extracts from her novel, but even in the peace and quiet of the library, she found it impossible to concentrate. This pleasant distraction was much welcomed in her mind, which was enjoying the break from visions and clouds of blank thought as she daydreamed. In her study hall, she sat behind a group of three girls, each with their blonde curls styled like Katherine Hepburn as they whispered:

“Well, apparently he’s going to a party with Johnny and Henry…”

“Who else is going to that? Is it just boys?”

“Well, Lindsey’s going, but she always does…”

“I heard he lives near Loony Lorraine…”

And at the sound of her name, Lorraine’s eyebrows raised, causing the three girls to whip their curls around, sniggering at her before settling back into their gossip. The nickname, although completely unjustified, didn't faze Lorraine; she had been called a lot worse in the past. So, Ed was going to a party tonight. Of course, she thought. Those boys will be desperate to adopt Ed as one of their own with the amount of attention he was attracting. And yet, whilst she tried desperately to retire into her terrible protective corner, something brought her out of it… someone. Usually, she could pretend to not care about a situation until her brain thought she actually didn’t care, but Ed didn’t let her. No matter how interesting her essay was, or how distracting the textbook’s photos were, she couldn’t get the boy out of her head. She wondered if he would be there at her church… after all, he was wearing a crucifix… No, Lorraine, focus.

She found herself counting down the seconds on her watch until she could get out of that stuffy room and waited little time from the bell ringing to pull her satchel from the floor and dash out of there, missing Ed by a few seconds walking up to the library door.

“Hey… any of you seen Lorraine?” He asked the three girls, causing them to spin around to cast their adoring eyes on Ed.

“You just missed her… what a pity… why don’t you walk us home instead?” The tallest of the three purred dismissively, reapplying her lipstick carefully before thrusting herself at Ed’s side, giving him little time to disagree before she grabbed his arm and led him out of the building, her two cronies following her lead.

“How was school, love?” Georgiana called from the kitchen, filling the room with the savoury aroma of homemade lasagne. The house, apart from the occasional sizzle of melted cheese, was silent; it usually was until James returned home from work.

“Same as usual,” Lorraine shouted back, sliding her shoes off before trudging into the kitchen, kissing her mother briefly on the cheek before sitting down at the table.

“Honestly, Lor, one person can make all the difference at school… I remember when I met your father all those years ago... not in school, rather at a speakeasy - "

“Mum, I don’t need to hear all this again,” Lorraine rolled her eyes, bringing her mum’s memories crashing down to earth.

“Look, I’m just saying… hey, I found out what Pauline’s boy is called… Edward. Did you have an Edward Warren in your class today?”

“Ed? Yes,” Lorraine muttered softly, feeling her cheeks flush red at the mention of him.

“And? Honestly, Lor, trying to get you to talk is like trying to get blood out of a stone,” Georgiana sighed, checking in the oven briefly.

“And… he was nice… very nice,” Lorraine muttered, blushing deeper as she stared down at her placemat, unable to meet her mother’s keen eye.

“Oh, Lor… at last, my girl, you’ve found someone! Oh, I’m so proud,” her mother gushed, kissing Lorraine’s head firmly.

“Mum, it’s not like that… he’s already rather popular in the year… he’s going to a party tonight, you know.”

“Whose?”

“I don’t know… some girls were chatting about it today in study hall,” Lorraine sighed again, slumping hopelessly into her hands as Georgiana turned to grab her oven gloves.

“Well… I was talking to Pauline today- “

“Who?” Lorraine asked glumly, her mood cast down by the remembrance of Ed’s party.

“Keep up, love, she’s Ed’s mother… anyway, she was looking for a church for the family, so they’re going to be joining us this Sunday… that reminds me, I saw Gwen today, looking rather pale, and so I asked her, ‘what’s the matter Gwen?’ And you’ll never guess…”

Georgiana’s meddlesome gossip continued, being dictated to Lorraine in small fragments, but her interest was far gone. At the forefront of her mind, was Ed. She felt rather silly, allowing her thoughts to be utterly consumed by this boy, but it was no use; not even her hazy visions, slowly drawing her in before clouding her brain, could stop her. All of a sudden, she ached to be popular, if it meant being invited to the party that Ed was at.

Meanwhile, Ed had found his way to the party, strong armed by a few of the other boys to the front door, just a few streets away from his house; and Lorraine’s. Greeted enthusiastically, he settled into a nearby couch, and quickly integrating himself in the conversation, surrounded by the boys from school with one blonde girl, leaning her body against one of the boys next to Ed.

“So, then… which of you lot are enlisting next year?” A tall, tanned boy asks, his voice clear and crisp against the soft hum of the record player in the background.

“I’ve already filled out the forms for the Navy,” Ed replies, earning him celebratory slaps on the back and cheers.

“Why so keen? Want to get away from your folks?” One boy chirps up, widening his blue eyes in curiosity.

“Something like that,” Ed mutters softly, smirking to himself before returning to the wider conversation. The tanned boy, who Ed had identified as Henry, produced a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, taking one before offering the pack to the rest of the group. The boys flocked around the pack like sharks to bait, but Ed drew back slightly; he remembered Corinthians, ‘I will not be mastered by anything’, and he slowly shook his head to James, holding his crucifix in comfort.

“Suit yourself… you must be like that Lorelai… no, wait… Lacy?”

“He means Loony Lorraine,” the blonde girl smirked softly over at Ed, before returning her gaze to Henry. At the sound of the nickname, Ed’s fists immediately clenched; how dare she call Lorraine names? He felt his cheeks flaring up, but desperately tried to control his temper, despite steam almost coming out of his ears. So this must have been what Lorraine was telling him about her classmates.

“Yes… Loony Loraine… didn’t I see you with her today, Ed?”

Ed gritted his teeth. One thing he hated about himself was his temper, inherited from his drunken father. Still, he couldn't bear to sit here and do nothing whilst they made fun of Lorraine. “You might have,” he muttered, his fingernails digging into his palms as he felt his body flare with anger.

“Don’t tell me you fancy her, Ed… trust me, she might be a pretty thing, but there are many pretty things… and their looks are only good for one thing,” Henry smirked knowingly, his hand sliding down the blonde girl’s back suggestively.

That was it. Ed couldn’t stop his mind, fuelled with hatred of the boys and protectiveness of Lorraine so much so that he barely asked for forgiveness from God before throwing his right arm forward, hitting Henry square in the nose. Losing his balance on the couch, he instinctively pulled his hands protectively over his bruised nose. Blood was spurting forth, thick droplets of crimson were dropping onto the carpet. Ed barely had enough time to realise what he’d done before he ran out of the house.

He couldn’t go home; his father would be awake, and that always led to trouble. Ed had had quite enough of fighting for one evening, and as he flexed his knuckles sorely, his mind flashed with a sudden revelation. Turning away from the party, he ran as quickly as his two legs could carry him back to his street, crossing at his door over to the other side of the road. Using his good hand, he gently but firmly knocked twice on the black lacquered door in front of him.

“Ed?”

Chapter Text

“Ed?” Lorraine’s voice hissed in confusion, her voice in whispered tones as she stood by the open door, wary of her mother washing up in the kitchen. “What are you doing here? Why are you covered in blood? Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry, the blood isn’t mine,” he smirked softly at her, before wincing in pain.

“Come in, there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” she whispers, widening the door for him to allow him into the warm entrance hall, before carefully shutting the door, begging silently for her mum to not hear.

“Lorraine? Who’s at the door?” Georgiana’s voice called from the kitchen. Lorraine’s body froze, her eyes widening apologetically to Ed before turning to face the kitchen.

“Mum… this is Ed,” she smiles meaningfully at her mother, her eyes shooting daggers at her mother’s oblivious gaze dropping to the bashful boy.

“Ah, of course… yes, Lorraine’s told me all about you – “

“Mum!”

“It’s okay… nice to meet you, Mrs Moran,” Ed smiles at her mother, handing his good hand to shake hers. Despite his dishevelled appearance, having bolted from the party and not stopping until he had reached Lorraine’s house, he was desperate to make a good first impression, and so the throbbing pain in his knuckle was dismissed in his mind.

“Please, call me Georgiana… what can we do for you, Ed?”

“Well – “

“Ed slipped off of his bicycle… he just needed a first aid kit,” Lorraine interrupted, saying a silent prayer for forgiveness in her mind for lying before nodding assuredly at her mother.

“Alright… take him upstairs to the bathroom, Lor,” Georgiana replied, narrowing her eyes slightly as she noticed Ed’s bruised knuckle, smirking to herself as she turned back to focus on the dishes. She didn’t have any visions like Lorraine, but she knew her daughter well enough to see her visible happiness around Ed, her bashful smile highlighting her dimples as her eyes glimmered up at him. Lorraine turned quickly at her mother’s words, leading Ed upstairs before her mother could notice the dripping blood on Ed’s pale hand.

Her hand gently guided him to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, closing the door behind them before sighing in relief.

“Ed… what happened?”

“It was nothing… just… those pricks at the party,” he muttered softly, his brown eyes softening up at her as he gazed intently up at her swift movements, moving to the medicine cabinet and fishing out a small cream bag filled with ointment, antiseptic wipes and bandages.

“Ed. Tell me… please,” her voice softens as she kneels in front of him, the baby blueness of her irises gazing into his in concern.

“They were… they were calling you names… ‘Loony Lorraine’... I couldn't just let them say those things about you,” Ed sighs, swallowing as his voice lowers to hers.

“They call me that all the time… it’s not worth fighting over,” she sighed softly, but she couldn’t stop her smile widening at his defensive side. “Alright, this might sting slightly, I’m sorry,” she smiles reassuringly up at him, before gently taking an antiseptic wipe to his bruised knuckle, wiping the wound clean as Ed hisses.

“Lorraine… why do they call you that?” He asks her after a while, trying to distract his mind from the searing hot pain in his knuckle as Lorraine cleaned it. His question made her stop for a moment, tossing her hair back from her face as she shook her head up at him dismissively.

“It doesn’t matter, Ed.”

“It does to me.”

“Why does it?”

“Because you’re not ‘loony’ at all… in fact, you might be the most normal person I’ve met.”

“You hardly know me… I could be a serial killer, for all you know,” she smirked teasingly up at him, grabbing a towel and running it under cold water before compressing it against the bruises.

“I seriously doubt it… you’d be the kindest, most beautiful serial killer I’d met, if you were,” he smirked bashfully down at her, grinning as her smile broke into a soft chuckle, her cheeks flushed redder.

“Are you drunk?” She asked, unable to stop herself from giggling at his compliment. And yet, she felt her heart tugging, knowing he’d feel differently if he knew why they called her crazy.

“Stone cold sober, Lorraine… please tell me,” he asked her softly, his good hand brushing her soft curls out of her face, caressing her cheek gently.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll think the same as them… and I don’t want to lose you,” she sighed softly, her eyes now focused on his bruises, pulling a bandage out of the first aid kit.

“You won’t lose me… I promise,” his hand tips her chin up to look at him, and, feeling reassured by his soothing touch and smile, breathed deeply before sitting herself on the floor below him.

“When I was young… I must have been five… my mother came down with pneumonia, and she was admitted to hospital”, Lorraine began, gazing up at his warm brown eyes. “One day, my father took me in to visit her with some flowers. And, across from her bed, there was a small boy a few years older than me, lying in his bed. And… at his bedside… I saw a ghostly white figure, glowing almost golden as it held the boy’s hand soothingly,” her voice tailed off, quivering as her mind recounted the memory.

“You saw an angel,” Ed replies softly to her, seemingly unfazed at her story.

“I know it sounds idiotic… and you’ll think I’m crazy, but… since then, I’ve always seen things… things that other people can’t seem to… that’s why they call me crazy,” she finishes, sighing defeatedly as she leans against the bathtub, next to his feet as she finishes bandaging his knuckle.

“I believe you.” His voice has a twinge of finality to it, as his good hand appears at Lorraine’s shoulder. As she stared in disbelief at his eyes, she knew he meant what he said.

“Why?” She asks softly after a period of silence, her eyes softening up at his as she leans closer to him.

“I used to have a monster under my bed… I mean, I know most children do, but this was different… it grabbed my ankles and pulled me off of my bed in the middle of the night,” he started to explain, his shoulders relaxing as he feels the weight of the memory rolling off of him. “My father told me there was nothing, and to go back to bed… but I couldn’t. Not with that thing underneath the bed.”

“What did you do?” Lorraine asked in a gentle voice, smiling warmly up at him and resting her hand on top of his, rubbing his knuckle soothingly.

“I grabbed my crucifix off of my bedside table… I remember the nuns at my old school telling me, ‘God will be there for all who need’… and I needed Him at that moment… I pointed it at the shadow under the bed, and I heard an awful screeching sound, waking my mother and father up… but it was gone when they came in.”

“Ed…” Lorraine’s voice croaked but had no idea what to say to him. She stood up from the bathroom floor, double checking the bandage before putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For defending me at that party… for listening to me… for not thinking I was crazy… for telling me about your encounter,” she smiled down at him, grinning appreciatively as he got up from the bathtub side.

“Anytime,” he smirked softly down at her, unable to stop his own smile around her.

“Well, I mean, please don’t punch anyone else, I don’t like seeing you injured,” she smiled back at him, her voice slightly teasing as she heard her mother’s voice calling from downstairs. “We should probably get downstairs,” she murmurs softly, her mind cast out of this perfect moment and back into reality.

“Lorraine,” he blurts out as he follows her out of the bathroom. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Nothing planned… why?”

“Well, I’d quite like to take you out… as a thank you for cleaning my wounds,” he blushes softly, fidgeting with the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I’d like that a lot… I’ll ask my mother,” she smiled up at him, praying her mother was in a good mood as they walked into the living room. “Mum…” she starts, her eyes widening as she notices James sitting across from her. “Oh, hello dad,” Lorraine smiles, leaning over the sofa to give him a hug before returning to Ed’s side.

“Who is this young man?” James asks Lorraine, smiling briefly at Ed before returning his gaze to the newspaper in front of him.

“I’m Ed Warren… it’s nice to meet you, Sir,” he replies, shaking her father’s hand firmly.

“Ah… your family has just moved next door… my dear wife has been nearly beside herself with neighbourhood gossip concerning you all,” James smirks to himself, his eyes drifting to Lorraine, whose blushed and grinning face tells him everything he needs to know.

“James! My husband is talking nonsense, as usual… what did you two need?” Georgiana flushed red with embarrassment, slapping James playfully before returning her gaze to the two children.

“I was wondering if I would be allowed to take Lorraine out tonight? I promise to have her home by curfew.”

Both of her parents turned fully around in their chairs, stunned at the boy’s question. They could detect no sarcasm in his request and wondered if their daughter had finally found a companion. Georgiana's face lit up with the prospect of her daughter, finally finding a lifeline in life, a long term companion... something she had been lacking throughout her life.

“Of course you may… as long as you have her home by 10,” Georgiana beamed up at him, ignoring James’s raised eyebrows at her proposed timing and instead noticing the new spring in her daughter’s step as they walked out of the front door.

“10 is a bit late, isn’t it, dear,” James muttered as Lorraine and Ed left the house.

“Perhaps if you kept your mouth shut about my gossip, I would’ve suggested an earlier time,” she smirked back triumphantly, pulling out her reading glasses as she opened her book.

“The one time I listen to you, and it gets thrown in my face,” he chuckles teasingly, earning him another playful slap before he pulls Georgiana closer to him on the sofa, placing her legs over his lap as they lie together, reading their respective pieces of literature in front of the fireplace.