Lockbox
Characters: Jacob Frye, Reader, Evie & Henry make an appearance
Warnings: Nothing :)
Word count: 2019
Notes: Ficmas Day 23 | What is Ficmas?
blarg i never want to see the word lock ever again
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Jacob yawned and sunk deeper into his loveseat. There were a dozen things he would rather be doing than listening to Henry prattle on about intel and paperwork. This was Evie’s forte, not his. He was the enforcer. He beat people up and raced carriages, not puzzled over... puzzles.
“The only obstacle,” Henry continued as Jacob watched leafy shadows dance on the car’s floor, “is they are both in locked boxes, behind locked doors, behind a guard rotation.”
“Guards aren’t a problem,” Jacob put in.
“I don’t expect them to be,” Henry assured. “My concern is for the locks. Can either of you pick them?” Jacob polished a spot of dried blood off his gauntlet.
“Can’t we just steal a key?”
“No one on site carries one. The only key is held by the owner of the buildings, who is currently in New York.”
Evie hummed. “Do you know someone who could teach us?”
“I can teach you, partially. It is probably better to learn from someone else, however...” Henry shuffled for a paper on his desk and handed it to Evie. “This is Y/N L/N. She owns a small produce store a few blocks from here. Don’t let her propriety fool you-- I’ve never met anyone better at finessing a lock than this woman. I can call in a favor for her instruction.”
Jacob stood and peered over his sister’s shoulder at the sketch. “A grocer? Is that a cover job?”
Henry chuckled. “Oh, no, she hasn't the stomach for our work. She nearly fainted once after watching a rat get caught underhoof. I don't know where she learned her skills, but she is the best I have to offer, and I daresay the best in the city. She should be open now, if you’re ready.”
~
Miss Y/N’s shop was heavy with the perfume of flowers, and Jacob had to duck under a clothesline of dried bundles as he came in her door. There were more strung up along her counter, and a couple little dancing animal figurines decorating the top of her cashbox.
“Good morning!” a voice chirped from between the tall aisles. A woman appeared, dressed simply, with a towel slung over one shoulder. She paused when she saw them, but her smile faltered only for a second before it returned. “Oh, hello there! What can I do you for?”
“Henry Green said you might be able to help us,” Evie clasped her hands at her middle, trying to present them peacefully. Jacob peered down at the shopkeeper as she assessed them, pretty eyes flickering behind wispy butterfly lashes. She didn’t linger on him long, but he recognized her full once-over of him.
“You must be the Frye twins, then,” she concluded. “What did Henry say your names were, again? Eva and John?”
“Jacob,” Jacob corrected firmly, and Evie shifted her weight, just happening to trod upon his toes as she did so.
“And Evie, Miss L/N.”
“Oh, that’s right!” the woman exclaimed. “Sorry, terribly forgetful.” She tapped a finger on her temple. “Got it from my mother. Poor mum could get lost in a paper bag. Evie and Jacob. Got it. What can I help you with, Evie and Jacob?”
“There’s some paperwork we need to get at, but it’s in lockboxes too hard for us to break. Mr. Green said you’re the best chance to get into them.”
A flush brightened her cheeks, and she chuckled somewhat nervously, clasping her hands at her middle. Jacob narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t say the best, but I can certainly see what I can do! Where are these boxes of yours?”
“There are two, across the city, in Blighter warehouses. One is relatively close by,” Evie explained, slapping Jacob with the back of her hand as Y/N shifted uncomfortably under his intense scrutiny. “Your earliest convenience would be appreciated.”
“Oh, no, Miss Evie, I’m afraid I can’t do any of your fancy fighting.” Her eyes met Jacob’s for a heartbeat, but then flickered to his sister again, and she wrung her hands. “Bring the boxes to me and I’ll bust them open for you! I can patch up the locks afterwards, as well, if you’d like to keep your things a little more secure, plus they’re good to learn with. Do you think you can manage that?”
“I believe so, Miss.”
“Wonderful! Now, unless you’d like some apples, there isn’t much I can do for you until I get those boxes.”
“We’ll see you soon, then, Miss.” Evie dipped her head in farewell. Jacob fixed the grocer with a long look as he tipped his hat, and followed his sister out of the shop.
~
Once around the corner on the way back to the train, Evie smacked Jacob’s chest with some force.
“Ow!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”
“You’re going to frighten her off with that look you’re giving her. Mr. Green is already helping us at his expense.”
“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’m surprised he didn’t get her for you personally! Hire London’s foremost locksmith, perhaps!”
“Jacob.” The sharp edge to Evie’s voice left little room for argument, and he clacked his jaw shut. It wasn’t worth fighting with her, now. All she would do was quote Father at him again, and ruin his day. Before she could launch into one of her tirades, he separated from her and scaled the nearest building, determined to upstage his sister and get his lockbox to their new friend first.
~
It was beyond easy to find Y/N. If her bright pink, lace-frilled apron didn’t point her out among the dark fashions of the market street she explored, the large flowers decorating her cap did. A cheerful sunflower called to him all the way up on the London skyline, beckoning him down to greet it. Entirely without his permission, his heart leapt towards her, and he paused for a moment, slightly startled and more than a little concerned. He pulled it back off the edge of the high-rise and settled it back in his chest with a deep breath. He didn’t have time for feelings.
He skipped down the building, keeping to the shady alleyway, and paused again atop a thick clothesline, taking a moment to watch her peruse a ribbon stand. He hardly even noticed when he jumped to the ground, and only came entirely back into his senses when the brisk wharf air blew a decidedly warm scent to him -- of lavender, cloves, and the perfume of those bright flowers on her hat. It hooked at his chest, drawing him towards her headfirst.
He snuck up on her through the crowd, and came to stand beside her as she tucked her recent fabric purchase into the basket on her arm. Before she could turn away and continue shopping, he inclined his head to speak closer to her ear.
“Hello, Y/N.”
Y/N jumped about a foot in the air and away from him, her hands flying to her chest. The yelp that escaped from her curled his lip. “Oh! Goodness, Mister Frye, you frightened me!” She tittered and sighed audibly, readjusting her scarf around her neck. “What can I do for you?”
High on mischief, Jacob grinned at her from beneath his top hat. “You can be outside your shop at 4 o’clock today.” He left her with a wink, and melted back into the London traffic.
~
For some reason, the prospect of seeing Y/N again spurred Jacob through his day, and he had his lockbox in hand by noon.
“Boy, that’s a vault, that is!” she exclaimed when he arrived with the thing. “There’s no way that will fit through my front door. Bring it around the back, here, i’ll grab a lamp and we can work on it.”
She disappeared back into her shop and then reappeared out the back door as his Rooks were parking the cart. There was still plenty of light to work without it, so she left it atop a nearby barrel and hoisted herself (somewhat awkwardly thanks to her skirts) into the back of the cart. She managed not to topple over, and Jacob followed, perching on the side panel to watch her bust the safe open. He tilted his head at his driver, and the Rooks took their respective posts, in case any Blighters attempted to reclaim what he had rightfully stolen.
Y/N sat, cross-legged, before the lockbox and retrieved a small cloth roll from her pocket. She set it beside her and retrieved a few small, silver tools, and for a few minutes worked in silence.
“Alright!” she said, suddenly. “Home stretch. Get a good pressure point, right... one more... and then we just -- jimmy -- this here -- and there we go!” The lock clicked and the door popped open. She stood and stepped back. “Have at her.”
Papers. Of course he had been sent to retrieve more frigging information. Nothing in it for him, as always. He scowled, but shuffled through the miscellaneous paperwork until he found a small leatherbound notebook with the assassin insignia stamped on the front.
“Brilliant,” he muttered, tucking the book away. Now that that was over, he was eager to move on. The potential places knowing how to unlock this could get him into was motivation enough to want to learn, not to mention this was a perfect opportunity get under Y/N’s skin. Her delicacy was endlessly entertaining. “Now, how does this work?”
Y/N adjusted her skirts to kneel down again, shut the safe door, reengaged the lock, and took a seat. “Tension is everything,” she began. “You need talented fingers to pick locks.” Her eyes lingered on him for a moment as he sat beside her, but he was probably just reading too deep into her words.
Her first instructions were simple enough, but he was much more invested in getting a reaction out of her. Purposefully, he dropped the tension in his wrench. She didn’t even hardly respond, just tilted her head at the sound of the pins dropping.
“Whoops!” she chirped. “Try again. Tension is your key.” She seemed quite proud of this little joke, but he remained stoic, even as her sparkling eyes begged him to laugh, and she cleared her throat. “You need to keep the pins up.”
Half a dozen more times, he made simple mistakes, trying to figure out how to exhaust her patience, but she remained as level-headed as always. Jacob watched her hands as she instructed him again, but his mind wandered. He wondered how she kept so cool. Perhaps she didn’t know he was toying with her. Was she really that impercipient?
In the distance, Big Ben bonged loudly, alerting them to the time. Y/N stood, peering up above the high-rises at the depleting daylight. Sighing, she reached for her matchbox and her lamp and illuminated the darkening space.
“I think it’s about time to wrap up for the evening,” she said as she shook her hand to extinguish the match. The candlelight danced on her cheekbones and chased the dying sun across her hair, beckoning his heart to follow, and it made an involuntary flutter in his chest. “Next time we’ll start on a simpler mechanism. I hope you have more finesse than your sister alluded to.”
Jacob resented that. He took up one of her hands and held her gaze squarely, mustering the look that colored every woman’s cheeks. “Well, miss, I hope you can’t break more than locks.”
She shot him a wink, but he was pleased to see a blush bloom up her ears. “You don’t keep any locks on you, darling. You’re open as a book.” She dropped the little leather notebook into his hands, one that had previously been stowed safely away, and he looked between it and her, startled. It looked as though her nimble fingers were capable than more than just lockpicking.
“Careful around here, Mister Frye,” she said, fixing him with one last sunbeam grin before she left, one brow quirked. “Never know what the grocers might be up to.”
