Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kipps POV 

Taking in the whiff of fresh paint and moving a discarded paint tin out of the doorway, I begin to wonder why the paint pots are still here? It's been a week since a wall was last touched with even a lick of paint. They're all idiots. My idiots.

Don't worry, this whole thing isn't revolving around discarded paint pots - Obviously. You know what, you'll see. 

I plonk the paint pot down beside me, pick up my travel bag, and make my way through the room to the bed. This used to be Jessica's room. I can tell how much this all meant to Anthony. I'm proud of him, you know? I can really see how much he's grown, largely thanks to Carlyle - sorry, Lucy. Last names are a habit at this point.

But no, this whole room fix-up means a lot to me too, not just because I'm proud of Lockwood and his growth, but also because of Jess. I won't go into it. But it just, well, it means a lot. okay?

The bag bounces slightly when it hits the bed. I wait for it to settle before unzipping it. This isn't going to be my permanent residence. I don't need to live here forever. I have somewhere with my own bed, it's just, somehow, too tense and unfriendly right now. God, I'd never thought I'd say this but Lockwood’s home is just… a warm hug? I can't believe I've ended up tag-teaming with a bunch of 'nemesis’ who make me feel far warmer and energized than the free Fittes coffee machine (available for Supervisors) ever could. Life really takes you on such sharp turns.

I begin to pull my clothes out of my bag - once they're all in a sort of messy pile (I shoved them in the bag in a rush, after an argument at home made me want to be anywhere but) I start to fold them. First my 3 black turtlenecks, crossing the arms over each other, folding them sideways, then folding them lengthways. Next my jeans, then… you get it already, I'm sure. Soon everything is folded and I start putting them in the drawers I helped to build. It's a bit wobbly, but there were more pressing matters at hand - transforming this destroyed heirloom of a house into a semi-liveable condition for a start.

You know, I've never really had the time to think about what's been happening, never wondered how to handle things I wasn't really used to. Especially after Pen-sorry, Marissa's absolutely brutal monologue ending on 'I will see to it that you never work for any reputable psychic investigation company again' (the thought of that moment still brings an involuntary shudder). Even before that, It got to a point where I shut myself off as much as I could, to avoid complete breakdown. I didn't have much time either. Not with constant Fittes work, or constantly having to deal with these mugs. My mugs.

The bottom drawer closes with a not-so-satisfying clunk. I slowly raise myself and walk the few steps it takes to get to the bed, so that I can sit down for a minute. So that I can finally relax and think.

Think about what though, exactly? Well, That’s what I'm trying to get to.

I Lean back slightly on the bed, allowing my hands to support my upper body and my legs to kick freely, in a way that releases the tensions you don’t realise you’re holding onto. I take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Something that's been deeply pressing both since it started, but really after I left Fittes, is my talents. Or lack thereof. When they started fading I was 19. They weren't the best to begin with, your standard 'equally okay at everything but nothing spectacular', but you don't realise how much you rely on them until they start to go. And then you start to panic. Well, then I started panicking. It was like watching your favourite childhood toy slowly getting ripped apart and not being able to do anything about it. It's quite frankly devastating. Dare I say embarrassing. 

For the first month of it fading, I pretended everything was fine. it all started slipping because I'd mess up more than usual on the job. Risk my life more than usual. And people took notice. That then led to me having to have a good talk with an upper hand about it. God, I was so ashamed. I can still remember that moment clearly. I'd been called into the office for a 'little chat', then, after standing sheepishly in the doorway, I was asked to sit down with a bad attempt at a sympathetic sigh from the supervisor. There was one of those silences, you know the ones, the 'this feels like it's going on for 5 years but it's only been 2 seconds' types. Then he went straight in with "you're losing your talents" and all I could do was nod. 

See, I carried an air about me then. Around people my level (or strangers), I'd always big myself up, show myself up, pretend to be the big I am. But as soon as you put me in a room full of more powerful people, my invisible tail goes between my legs like a frightened puppy.

In the end, I got a promotion and it was relatively okay. Relatively okay also means I completely tried to stop processing my loss of powers and never really got over them being gone.

But this is why I’m here now, in this room, alone. To reflect and get over this little bump in the road, to properly deal with all the things that I've left to pile up in my brain - like the leftover paint pots currently collecting dust in this very room.

I guess you could say I became a half empty paint pot. I knew what I wanted to be, but I never knew what I currently was. So I've been thinking, maybe the best way to solve that is to empty this paint pot completely and slowly fill it up, but this time I'll start from the bottom, use the right coloured paint. I’ll figure out myself and do it for no one else but me.

That's a lot easier said than done, but I'm willing to try. I have to try.

"GEORGE!" 

Hearing the shout and then Lucy swearing under her breath makes me jolt a little in my seat, briefly pausing my thoughts and replacing them with a need to pounce into action. Turns out it's just about… cheese? What fools. My fools.

So what does losing your powers really mean? I guess it's becoming more blind and reliant but I knew that. Maybe it means that it's a sign to step back and focus on yourself and your trust in others. It's telling you to finally relax. Stay alert of course, but take a much needed break.

A break is what I think I'll do. I'm going to offer to do all the paperwork for Lockwood and his little team of comrades. I have the goggles, of course, but my body has told me to stop since I was 19, I'm 23 for God's sake. It's time to listen to it. I'll always be there, though, if they need me of course. With their surge in popularity they just might. Though, the ghosts are seeming far less frequent since the great Fittes defeat, and I'm feeling positive for the future.

Holly's head pops around the door, her full frame following soon after.

"Dinner’s ready!"

She smiles, her head tipping ever so slightly to the side while her hair somehow doesn't fall a strand out of place.

"Lucy's treat."

With a wink she saunters back off, and I'm soon following right behind, feeling lighter as the old paint pours away.