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Chapter Text

The air around them shifted, coiled and posed to attack. George’s thermometer beeped alarmingly. It was a chill that settled deep in your bones and seeped in your hearts and souls, that not even the chains could keep out. 

Shattered pottery lay glinting on the ice-crusted floor. In between the shards, a scrap of crumpled paper peeked out. She gingerly picked it up and smoothed out the crinkles as best as she could. It was slightly cold, but not enough to be an actual Source. It was a letter, scribblings in franting writing. Time had bled the colour from the parchment and stained it yellow with dust and mould.

The room quivered with anticipation, like the hovering presence of the ghost was peering into that piece of paper with her. Ectoplasm mist burst against the restraint of the iron chain, igniting green sparks. Lockwood gave her a nod. Behind them, the group had rapiers out, hands readied with salt bombs and flares. 

"Any moment now, Luce. I'm regretting not bringing my normal parka 'cause my bottom is freezing up and it's not going to be pretty if you had to surgery the pants out of my behind." George said tetchily.

Lucy struggled to find her voice amidst the freezing cold. She cleared her throat once and started,

“My lovely Francesca,”

It sounded small and repressed in that vast room. This was meant to be a whisper between lovers, of last words and unexpressed love, not a penny poem read out loud at a train station. In her heart, she felt wrong, like reading someone else letter unpermitted. Lockwood briefly reached out to touch her arm, offering reassurance. She tried again,

“My lovely Francesca, should you find this note, it meant that our time had unfortunately come to an end, and I could no longer keep my promise to you. I hope that you will forgive me, for I long nothing more than to share my future with you, and I wished never to be parted from you with such agonising pain.”

She sucked in a breath. It felt like frost was covering her heart, spearing it with tiny spears of crystals. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, just like when they were in the drawing room.

“Like the play you have so loved, "Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm. More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn." But I only regret the life we could not share, but not a single moment since Fate has so graciously brought you to me. If we could live a thousand lifetimes, I would…”

Her voice constricted like a hand was throttling her throat. She couldn’t read the next words out loud. Unbidden memories sprung to her mind, of a hollow boy dead in the King's prison months ago. She felt Lockwood’s eyes on her. Voice quivering, she steeled herself,

“… I would always die for you. Not even Death would forbid me from finding you again. Do not weep, my darling. Though unwilling, I parted this world with the console of our dreams. The clouds write stories of eons old, but ours are hidden in the stars, so only we can see them in the secret of the night . Find me when new blooms spring forth from the winter soil. Find me in the wind that caress your hair and touch your skin. My wildflowers, my sun. I love, I love, I love you.”

The life drained out of the piece of paper the moment the last words were uttered out of her mouth. It wilted in her hand like a flower petal wrung off life. She felt wetness on her cheek.

A gale ripped apart the tapestry as a long sharp wail tore through the air. It was so loud that the other could sense it, the shell of a broken cry, drawn out deep and long like the never-ending pain. It blew straight at their face, whipped at their hair and battered their coats. They braced against the howling wind. The chains rattled.

Fissures appeared on the wooden floor of the ballroom, now completely frozen over like a glittering winter lake. The ruptures cut straight into the wooden boards, slicing through it like butter. 

Everyone shrieked as they haphazardly dove out of the rapidly zigzagging cracks. Parts of Kipps’ chain had fallen into one of the splits. Lockwood pulled Lucy to the side, as the chandelier on their head swung madly like a pendulum. The gale picked up, a whirlwind of lashing cold air and biting wind pushed them away from each other.

“Hang tight! Do not let it separate you!” Kipps yelled. Ever the one with the obvious. He was shielding his eyes from the salt grains from a saltshaker that had flown off a table nearby.

Cutleries were whipped off the tables in their direction, dainty sharp knives and glinting forks. They batted them away with their rapiers and ducked for cover under the table.

Poised and formation be damn. Everyone was jumping and diving in every direction, shouting and pushing each other out of danger. At least right now their teamwork seemed to be in high spirits.

The chandelier’s delicate crystal chains shook dangerously in the wind. Champagne flutes crashed into it and exploded with splintering glass.

Lucy pushed Lockwood away as a large chunk dropped right onto them. They plunged into two different directions.

“Lucy!” She hit the ground hard, elbows skittered on the icy floor. All around her, she heard cries and shouts, the blurry hurl of crystals surrounding her. 

A deafening crack sounded right under her. She cried out and scrambled on her knees and hands. Lucy felt her boots wobble as the ground shook. The gap underneath the chandelier had widened, revealing a gaping hole in the ground. As she watched, it ripped apart like being pulled from the sides, cutting straight towards her lighting fast.

The ground gave out beneath her. Her stomach gave the familiar lurch of falling. All around her, debris thundered down the hole. She threw a hand out desperately as she let out a cry. It was weirdly deja vu. Ghosts seemed to like throwing people into dark holes.

“No!”

A sudden force yanked on her wrist in midair. Her heart was a cacophony of wild beats. Through the haze of her teary eyes, she saw Lockwood’s face swam above the hole. 

“Lockwood!” The whirlwind wrapped around them like the eye of a maelstrom. 

“Lucy, just a bit more. Is there anywhere you can anchor your feet?” He grunted as he tried to pull her up, the other stabling them against the edge.

She swung a little, her boot kicked rough dirt. Lockwood’s grip strained with effort.

“I can’t. There’s nothing around me.”

Her hand slipped an inch. She let out a little gasp. He threw his other hand down to grasp her wrist, letting go of the edge. With no anchor, he slid a few more inches on the floor.

She was weighing him down. Lucy took a deep breath and made a decision. “Lockwood, let go.”

He didn’t reply. His grip tightened as he pulled again. The void underneath was sucking her down, a silent beckon to come. 

Somewhere in the haze, George and Holly were fighting the wind the get to them.

"Lockwood, hang on tight!" Holly called. Shrapnel tore at her tattered clothes as she pushed her hairs out of her eyes, bracing against the roaring wind.

The whole room shook with a thunderous boom. Quill and Kat had thrown all their flares into the dark void behind the tapestry.

The sparkling white fire spread wildly as the flames greedily licked at the old fabric. The frame exploded in splinters, and golden sharp panels shot out from the wall like sharp arrows.

They let out alarming shouts, as Lockwood slid halfway down the hole, now hanging with sheer will above the ledge. 

No. He couldn’t die.

“Please, Lockwood. Let go. I’ll be fine.”

She wouldn’t be the reason for it. 

He didn't answer. His arm shook with the effort. She could feel her sweaty hand slowly slipping from his grasp. Her stomach lurched with queasiness.

“Lockwood, listen to me. There’s nothing you can..." Her eyes widen. Before the warning could leave her mouth, she already knew it was too late. 

The last of the chandelier gave out from the ceiling and crashed down upon them. A part of the heavy metal chains struck right onto his shoulder.

He cried out in pain as he lost his footing and plunged forward. In the sharp wind and pitch black of their fall, she could only feel his hand. He didn’t let go. 

Darkness. The utter void of dark nothingness. Her thoughts, her feelings, her body. It was like she had plunged into the deepest of water that one time with Lockwood, but never resurfaced. She felt like her body had been rolled over by a truck, every bone screamed in white-hot pain.

A flickering light shone above her eyes. The stars. It was her favourite thing to do. Gazing up the sky on nights that they were lucky enough to finish before the first light of the sun, and watched as the constellations revealed themselves to her.

They were out again, flickering and moving. She was content to just lay there forever and forget about everything else. Blissful darkness and soft and warm. Wait, moving? It wasn't supposed to move like that.

Warmth. She felt warmed. Something tugged at her memory. Dancing embers of a crackling fire in a library. Cozying up on the sofa with the afghan. Soft touches that were comfortable and safe and soothed her soul.

Lucy jolted awake. She couldn’t tell if she had her eyes opened or not. Her hands started feeling around. Something soft underneath her. A gentle rising and falling motion. And rough and warm. It was Lockwood.

“Lockwood!” She shook him, “Lockwood, wake up!” Her eyes got used to the dark and traced out his features. In three more seconds, she was gonna slap him awake and prove George wrong that she ever had a double standard.

A groan escaped as he turned. The light above the hole flickered. It was a torch beam. They were not as deep under, but the space around felt large and empty. In the dim light that stretched from the weak light, he reached out and touched her face, his brow scrunched in confusion, “Lucy?”

She clasped her hand over his, thumb brushing the fleeting pulse on his wrist. Her eyes closed as she tried to calm the erratic beat of her heart. The sudden stop in the mere seconds when he didn't wake up. Lockwood was alive.

Heavy thudding noises sounded above A shadow peeked in the circle, stamping a weird lump in the sky. 

“Lockwood! Lucy! Are you alright?” George yelled down. 

“As dandy as a dandelion!" Lockwood called up.

"Not the time, Lockwood!"

“We’ll find Barnes and get you two out!” Holly called. 

A gust of wind blew down from the tunnel, ruffling her hair and swirling the debris around them. Lucy looked around. The room seemed largely empty, but she could still see the outlines of its grandeur once before. It was a secret place underground, with a hallway on its left that stretched away into darkness. And she felt it again, a sharp tug imposing on the fringe of her mind. The air was suddenly colder.

“Lockwood. That tunnel…” The pull was barely noticeable, but her instinct had never failed her. The small whispers could have been the rustling wind, yet it was not.

Lockwood had felt it too. He was staring down at the long passageway, dark eyes alerted. He glanced at her. 

“The wind has the smell of damp earth and mustiness from the garden. Based on the map of the mansion and its direction, it could be leading out there."

“And the strange tug that I had felt in the garden was the same here. It’s like being in a trance once you’re locked into it. Lockwood, I think we can find the real Source there.” 

Lockwood snapped his eyes off the tunnel and looked to her. He gave her an old easy grin, eyes burned with excitement. They were going to do something dumb. And dangerous.

“George!” Lockwood cupped his palms around his mouth and bellowed up. "How’s the situation up there?”

“It seems the manifestation is over. The wind had die down after we blew the drawing room up. But it still didn’t feel right. More like the focus had shifted from the room, and all the psychic sounds seemed to withdraw down the hole with you."

"It's like that department store all over again. Lucy, did you hear anything?” Kat yelled down. They had come to a mutual trust of each other's Talents after the few cases together.

A cold rush of air burst from the tunnel. This time, a frail whisper was clearly laced under the whoosh of wind. 

“Yes. I had that feeling too."

“Bloody Hell!” Somewhere above Kipps’s voice announced itself. “She was already blasted to bits with some of my best flares! I was so ready to call it a night and conk out in my barely sleep-able cot. ”

“There’s a secret room and tunnel down here. I heard a sound just now. And the same psychic pressure I had detected earlier in the main garden." She had a feeling their friends wouldn’t approve whatever she and Lockwood was planning on. 

“We are planning to…” Lockwood started. 

Kipps roared down, “Lockwood, don’t you dare…”

“... to check it out.”

"For Pete's sake! Will this night ever end?"

“Just wait for us! It's much too dangerous for just the two of you when we don't know what we're up against. And I need to check you over for concussions from the nasty drop too!" Holly yelled down.

That didn’t seem to have crossed Lockwood’s mind until then. In a smaller voice, he turned and asked her, “Are you feeling alright?” 

Lockwood sported a sleek cut across his cheek from the flying glass debacle. His coat had seen better days and one of his hand was bleeding. But his windswept hair and slightly crooked tie somehow made him look like he was about to pose for The Times as "Best Agent of the Month".

She probably couldn’t say the same about herself. She felt a warm trickle on the side of her head, and one of her wrists felt jarred from the tugging earlier. But a part from that, she was standing on her own two feet. 

“You’re hurt.” Well, that sounded dumb.

“I’ll live. I can say the same about you.” He chuckled. His eyes roamed over her from head to toe one last time, then he hollered up, “We’ll be fine. I got Luce with me!”

“That’s exactly why I’m worrying! I don’t want another repeat of arson in her prize garden! Mrs Cornwall and Barnes will have our heads!” In that short distance, she could tell that George was agitated by the gleam of his glasses as he rubbed it against his soot-stained shirt.

“They’re just trees! Heaven knows they needed a back burning. The place is practically dead branches waiting to catch fire.”

“We’re not paid to do that, Tony and we’ll likely need to pay them a hefty charge if you do suddenly want to change your career.” 

“It’s just a quick look. George, throw my sword down. Actually, let Kipps do it. And some torches and flares. We’ll meet you at the Garden.”

George’s glasses glinted. “You better be in the Garden when I get there, or I’ll kill you both. Kipps, apparently they prefer your aiming skills.”

Moments later, Lockwood’s sword and their supplies slid down the side of the tunnel. Lockwood sheathed his rapier and they clipped the flares to their belts. Lucy stocked on some of the salt and magnesium bombs that Kipps had helpfully chucked in. 

“Ready for our daft plan?” Lockwood did a final check of his belt.

“When am I not?", she smirked, a smile playing on her lip, "But I still don’t take orders from you.” 

He laughed, a real laugh since this disastrous case had brought them together again, and Lucy found herself transported in time. As they plunged deep into the deep dark of the unknown, happiness swelled unbidden in her heart when she felt his coat brush alongside hers just like the old times.

Up above the rackety that was once a splendid ballroom, Kipps was cradling his forehead and fiddling with his collar, “Barnes won’t be happy we'd managed to punch a hole in our client’s property again, but it’s an occupational risk. It should be safe for them to send an emergency team in now. ”

He undid the tie and his top two buttons. “And we got two fools to meet at the garden, provided that they can find their way out.”

Godwin eyed his ragged hair and rumpled suit with a raised brow, then turned to George and Holly, “Seriously, how do you live with not one, but two of them and not wanting to pull your hair out?” 

“Believe it or not, they are more insufferable apart than together. And Kipps, I’m not getting your late-night fashion statement right now. Not used to such a state of undress, though I do prefer the occasional trouserless yoga. Trousers are for wimps, anyway, which Lockwood obviously is. I need a change in scenery, and a lovely haunted garden might just be the case.” George fixed his glasses with a disdainful expression. 

“Obviously Cubbins, your late nights are really different to mine. And not all of them involve ghosts. The livings are worth exploring once in a while.” Kipps winked while Kat gagged.

“Oh Gods, I’m going to get Barnes,” Holly sighed. 

Chapter Text

Tippity-tap. Water trickled on the cave wall. Their boots crunched on coarse gravel as their coats ruffled against each other. Silence hung thick like the dampness that surrounded them.

The more time they spent in the dark musty tunnel, the more uneasy Lucy felt. Somehow she couldn’t shake the image of the gaunt hollow hole in Lockwood’s chest, all bloody and battered. It swam in her mind, in the corner of her eyes and the darkness around them. She tensed at every single small noise. 

Lockwood noticed her gaze flicking around. “What is it, Lucy?”

“Nothing. It’s just getting colder.”

“You’re upset." He said it like he was reading the weather. "I can tell when there’s something on your mind.”

“So what, you’re a mind reader now?” A small branch snapped under her boot. She flinched.

“No. I know you.”

She bit her lips at the response. Lockwood was still looking at her.

Another long stretch of silence. Tippity-tap.

“Why didn’t you let me go?” It was as light as a confession carried by the wind.

There was no need for clarification. Lockwood slowed the spring in his steps. He seemed to be turning the question over in his mind, carefully stepping aside a puddle.

“Well besides the fact that there’s the definite and very real possibility that you’re going to crack your head on the way down?” He shrugged. 

Annoyance sparked in her voice, “You know what I mean.”

Their rhythmic crunching of boots resumed. The growing tension that cloaked them intensified. He didn’t speak again. The door in her heart was slowing closing.

“What happened to us, Lucy? Tell me the truth.” Lockwood spoke, his voice was quiet, all traces of amusement gone. A topic change. Typical.

Was it? There could only be one thing he was referring to. 

Lucy took her time. Somehow, she always found herself at the end of his interrogation whenever she dared to ask about his mind. “And would you do the same? Would you tell the truth if I ask?”

“I told you. I would never lie to you again.”

“No. You just hid from me.” Bitterness crept into her voice.

“Luce,” he sighed, “I admit, I have never been good at opening up about everything.” He reached out a hand to still her steps, “But I swear to tell you everything you asked from now on. As much as I can. The truth.”

Lucy faced him. His face was shadowed by the light from their torch, but she could tell his sincerity from the touch of his hand on her arm.

Something clenched in her gut and choked her throat, “Why did you come after me in the King's Prison? You could have stayed up there. Wait for rescue. Just now, I told you to let go. I can find my way out perfectly fine on my own. I don’t need anyone to save me. ” 

“I promised you that as long as you are in my company, I will always be by your side. And company as in companion, not Lockwood & Co, Luce. It doesn’t matter that you left… us . I’ll be damn if I ever leave you down here, or anywhere else if I can help it, alone. ”

Of course, he would joke about her crude vocabulary. But something he said struck a chord in her soul. All the loneliness, sadness and shame rose like crashing waves. Tears laced unbidden to her voice, though she refused to let it spill.

“Right. Exactly. You... me... Argh! This is why I couldn’t stay.”

The drip, drip, drip of water reverberated in the empty cave. How could she tell him that he was the reason? How could she, when she was running from the feelings that tangled in that decision, those that flitted in her dreams as glinting smiles and warm dark eyes?

“What happened to us?" She took a deep breath. "I left to protect you.”

His brow furrowed. “Is that it? Is it truly what this was all about?” He shook his head. “Because I’ve been trying to understand…”

“For God’s sake, Lockwood, you said you’d die for me! Die, right after I fell into a hole and you jumped after me without a thought!”

Her words echoed into the cave. Die… Die…

Lucy looked to their shadows on the wall, twin shapes dancing in the candle lights, and willed her voice to stop shaking, “Peter told her that he would always die for her.” 

Rocks crushed under her boots as she shuffled. She was facing the tall, slim dark half of the wall. Her hands clenched and unclenched, itching to reach for the hilt of her rapier, for something grounding. 

His dark eyes cleared like a mist had been chased away. Bare and bright. He had told her the same thing under the same dank, musty and waterlogged tunnel. The sentence had slipped out of him so instinctively.

“And…” Her reflection flickered on the rough stone. “I couldn’t stand it. I felt her pain when he died, Lockwood. I’ve told you before, how all of my team died in the mill. They became ghosts that haunted my dreams. My friends became enemies. No matter how far away I ran, riding off alone on that train to London, it chased after me like the cloak of the night. I couldn’t fight them. Not them. And after Aickmere, a new ghost joined in that horde.”

The chill of the cave settled in their bones, wrapping around them like their secrets. They were getting close, he could feel the truth hanging in those words, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. The night in Aickmere sprang unbidden to his mind. How she had screamed and cried and pleaded with the Fetch, and her shock when she saw him. How she shook when he draped his coat over her, and she gazed at him like he was something from out of this world. The questions that she had asked about ghosts showed the future. The memory clawed at his chest, like an itch that needed to be scratched. 

“The Fetch, who is it to you, Luce?” His voice, low and soft, sounded hollow in that space.

The tap, tap, tap of water continued. The flick of her eyes, ever so quickly to his face and then away. Suddenly, he knew. 

“Wasn’t it obvious?” She chuckled drily. “It was you, Lockwood. You died trying to save me. The Fetch manifested as you .” Her voice turned raspy at the end. Her hand hovered out to him, where months ago there had been scrapes and bruises and a tattered hole in his chest. She closed her eyes before it turned into that hollow face. 

“It said that it only showed me the future and that you would always doom yourself to save me. Sooner or later.” The words broke in her throat.

“That’s horseshit, Luce. You know it. It was never your fault. Saving you is my choice.”

“Is it though, Lockwood? What about mine?” She felt her anger rising. Under all the longing and regrets, it simmered like the relentless heat waves on a hot summer day. “Why should I be the one left to face an empty world? We have all lost someone. Hell, we’ve lost everything! You, of all people, should know how it feels to be the only one left in the world. But in your haste to join the dead, you were so ready to leave me behind! You were so scared of being alone, that you would rather die than face it!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“That‘s..." Lockwood ran a hand frustratingly through his hair, "that is not why I did it.”

“Well, enlighten me then.” She crossed her arms, drilling her eyes to the walls behind his, the one that barricaded his soul, like she could break through it with her will. 

He looked away, reigning his overwhelming urge to grab her and shake until she realised it. “Because it’s you, Lucy! I would do it again if I had to. What do you want me to do then? Watch you die while munching biscuits and drinking tea, waiting for them to rescue you?”

“Of course not! But launching yourself to your perish every time is not an option too!”

“I would do it in a heartbeat. For you. For George.” He said solemnly. 

“If you think that I have anything else to live for besides you and George, that I wouldn’t die for you two too, then you don’t know me at all.” She never told him that she had heard his pleads to Winkman, how he had desperately tried to save her life. “I don’t have everything to live for, Lockwood. You’re all I have.”

The temperature was getting lower. A chill swept through her bones.

Lockwood finally looked into her eyes. "I know." The cold air puffed between them like white clouds.

He looked down and smiled sadly, "And it’s not because I’m scared to be alone, you know. I just don’t want to watch anyone else die.” The words echoed like a buried pain being spoken into existence. “I could never leave you, not in Aickmere, not here.”

Frost was forming on their coats. He gestured for them to keep walking. Their shadows followed on the wall.

“After all our crazy near-death experiences, I lay sleepless every night thinking about how close I was to losing you and George. How you would always follow me as I played with Death, and escaped in his mercy of my foolishness.” 

The bottom of the Thames has always been appealing to him. But to him only. Not the girl standing steadfastly beside him on the edge of a building, hand interlaced with his and eyes wide with fear. The water was dark as midnight and the sky lit up with burning stars. But she remained the same, bravery painted on her face as she looked at him like he was her lifeline.

“Sometimes whenever I look at the bridge, you know, the one round the Thames, I have the overwhelming urge to jump off it and forget about everything else. And the only way to stop that urge is to run away and get myself lost in everything that I have and should do. It’s just how I’ve been dealing with it.” He was brittle with energy like a cornered rabbit wanting to break free. But he didn’t.

She slowly caught his hand in hers. They matched their strides, step for step.

“I buried everything. George was right. Repress is probably the word I would use to describe myself too. I tried to open up and bring you guys into Jess’s room, but I know that it’s not enough. With the way I behaved during the winter, I couldn’t blame you for wanting to leave. And I was right. It was my fault.”

He tugged her to a stop. There was a thick vine that entwined so tightly with the mound of rocks lying sideways that it became almost like a wall. They scanned it for a way through.

“Right, just a little there, we can go through that hole on the left. The vegetation really picked up around here.”

They stumbled into what looked like an underground forest. Overgrown shrubs and tangled vines and thorny bushes scrambled for space.

“Must be part of the old ruin.” A loose rock came off her footing. They tread more carefully after that, on dry branches and hanging leaves. 

“Anyway, I can’t blame you for wanting to poke in and look around, but I was scared. I was scared of what you would find, Luce. What I haven’t been ready to face.” This was the longest he had ever opened up with her. Part of her secretly rejoiced in this closeness that she had once yearned so desperately, in the secrets that he had sworn his life to keep anything else from seeing. Well, the other part wanted to clock him for taking so long.

“I told you about Jess, how she… died.” He swallowed thickly. “But even after all that, you left. And I couldn’t understand why. All my life, everyone just left. And all I could think was, why? Why not me? It was a cruel game of chance. It was arbitrary. And I can’t let you get away, Luce. At least not by choice, not when I have you in my hand.” He squeezed her hand and looked to his only light in the tunnel. The only light that made him want to hang on. He realised that now. He realised it as soon as she left, but a little too late was probably a bit more appropriate.

They came to what looked like a small stream leading off into the distance. The rocky banks on the side were too small to tread on. The cavern loomed high above them, rough ceilings dotted with sharp rocks. 

She stopped to face him. "People become martyrs when they’re dead, Lockwood. I don’t want a martyr, with their hopes and beliefs that live on after their death. I want someone that will be here for me. Live for me.” She moved her hands to hold his face and stilled his gaze, "And in case you don't know, I’ll run with you into a burning house and jump into a deep mucky river, as long as you're not being an arse." He laughed at the last part. "It’s my choice, not yours.”

He leaned into her hands. Her warm brown eyes shone like fire in his darkest night. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I promised, as much as I can, that I will try not to be so reckless anymore.”

She closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. “For real?”

“For real.” He lightly nudged her forehead. “But there’s something that you can help me with.” 

Lucy chuckled. “As long as it keeps you out of your flirting game with danger.”

He laughed, “Oh I flirt with many. It’s my natural charm.” He took both her hands. Warm and comforting. The only anchor that had ever kept him in this world. “You kept me safe, Luce. I can’t do this without you.”

Understanding bloomed over her eyes. But uncertainty loomed over the prophecy that was spoken in the words of a ghost. 

“Come back to the agency with me, Luce. Come back home.”

It was the word home that made tears swell in her eyes. “Lockwood…”

He needed her to understand. “You are the only reason why I’m sane. I'm better when you’re with me. Ask George and he will tell you how much of an arse I’ve been when you’re gone. I’m not proud of it. But I need you, Lucy. We can’t do this without you. We’re always a team. You, me and George.” He brought her hands to his heart. “Please, Lucy.”

She flattened her palm against his heart. For a moment, the beating, warm and strong calmed her mind.  Their soft breaths mingled in the dank musty air. And she knew, even before her mind could fathom, that her heart had said yes. That there had never been another answer. In all her fantasies and dreams, she had never said no.

“Okay.” 

“You really mean it? Cause I don’t want to force you to …” He rambled.

“Just shut up, Lockwood.” She pulled him into a hug and buried her face in his chest. His arms came up to wrap around her, tight and warm and safe. She breathed out the tension in her body and relaxed in his arms, inhaling his familiar scent. 

She didn’t know how long it was. It might have been seconds, but eternity felt like was the right word. 

Chapter Text

The bottom of the river was sharp and uneven. Lockwood held her hand as they went on, helping her and himself from falling in. 

The water was up to their knees now. It wasn’t even that long since they went in, just like that river back home when it started raining. And it suddenly hit her. She tugged him to a stop.

“Lockwood, I think the water is getting higher.”

“Of course it is. We’re wading deeper into the stream.” He started forward. 

“No, Lockwood,” She pulled on their hands, “I think the water is rising.”

A few seconds passed  her heart a drumroll in her ears. And sure enough, she felt a minuscule rise in the water level, slightly inching up her thigh. Lockwood stilled next to her; he had felt it, too.

“What now?”

The end of the river was cut off by a heap of rocks as tall as the ceiling. It looked like part of the tunnel had caved in after years of dampness and moisture. They scanned it for a way out. 

“There, up the top, there’s a hole I think we can get through. Will need a bit of leverage and prying, but that’s as good a chance as staying down here.”

They started climbing the slopes. Falling rocks tumbled down after their grappling boots. Reverberation rang jarringly through enclosed space. Lucy started to feel like the cave was closing in on them. The higher and higher they went, the harder it was to stay balanced. She hated heights. And she hated small space. And being trapped. 

“Lucy, are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s just ... You know I hate heights.” Her hand scraped on a piece of loose rock. And she felt like her heart plummeted with it.

“I know. I know, Lucy." He caught her eyes and gave her an encouraging smile. "Just look straight ahead. I’m right by your side.”

She took a deep breath and regained her footing. Right, step by step.

A loud rumbling noise sounded from the path they just come from. The wall of the cave shook. She gripped on with all her might. Next to here, Lockwood cursed. There was a loud crashing of a wall being punched through, and then came the distinct roar of thundering water.

“Uh, Lockwood, that didn’t sound good.”

“This is maddening. Right, we have to hurry up now. Keep going Lucy.”

They were near the top now. Slippery grey rocks. Hand. Foot. The damp smell of moss. Hand. Foot. Rushing water.

Lockwood was already there, prying and pushing rocks away. He got out the pen knife and started chipping at the largest block.

Lucy was scrambling as fast as she could. Cold air puffed out with her breath. Abruptly, she was yanked back down. Her rapier got stuck into a wedge. She scrabbled at her belt and tugged at the rapier hilt. 

“No time Luce! Forget the rapier !” Lockwood stuck his knife into a crack, and in sharp motion, hauled up the last chunk of rock that finally left enough space for them to crawl through. 

“Lucy! Come on we have to get out now!” 

She couldn’t lose the rapier . It was much too important to her. She kicked hard at the crack. Her hand cut on sharp rocks.

"Lucy!"

Finally, after the last attempt, it pulled free. She crawled upward, ignoring the shooting pain from her palm. 

“Lucy!” Lockwood grabbed her arm and started to push her through the hole. 

“I’m right behind you! Go on!”

Lucy struggled , one of her boots landed with a heavy thud on the other side and slipped slightly, small pebbles tumbling down. She wrenched the other through as fast as she could. 

Lockwood . Her nails crapped on loose rocks. It was pitch black. Her heart hammered on. The wind kept howling. Then one iron-freckled boot stuck through the hole, and his shoulder and mop of dark hair appeared, perfected with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Next time tell me not to hold my breath waiting for you.” She grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him through.

“Noted.” He flashed her a grin, his eyes alighted with excitement. 

They quickly sealed the hole with the loose blocks. It wouldn’t hold for long.

The air was colder on this side. It was a cold biting air that sliced through the wetness of her dress and froze her legs. Great, frostbite would dethrone drowning then. 

This was no doubt the central haunting . The one they had been chasing all night. The tunnel here was damp with moss and the air filled with an earthy smell blew forth from the garden.  Time had neglected this cavern, where the ghosts of love haunted the abandoned ruin. 

They tread forward carefully. The rough walls became blocks of stones, neatly stacked together under the veil of time. The ruins of the garden revealed itself under thickets of vines. Their boots crunched on icy ground. The psychic pressure grew stronger with every step, pressing around them. Her heart dripped with sadness and longing, a never-ending pain that made her legs feel like lead.

All of a sudden, Lockwood grabbed her hand.

“She’s here.”

A flitting silvery shadow was manifesting ahead. Its slim silhouette blended in with the damp cold mist. Ghost fog slowly streamed around its slender shape, flowing like a long white gown that spilled out onto the floor. She looked exactly like the psychic memory, with beautiful eyes and golden hair.

Sadness rolled out in desolate waves. A well of sorrow cut through her chest. The pain she felt was real, of a loved one lost, of one having nothing to live for anymore. She must have been so lonely.

“Oh God, she was here all this time, right under the mansion."

“Why didn’t she leave? The exit was right there. She was so close.” Lockwood pointed out.

Now Lucy saw it. The fluttering vines behind the shimmering shape. How the wind crept through the braids of leaves and gently blew on the fog coiling on the floor. Her body lay there, a crumpled heap of bones and rags . Her skull-faced outwards, where the sky must have been waiting. 

The ghostly form of Francesca wavered. Her arms were outstretched and her mouth opened. She let out a long desperate sigh. 

“She didn’t want to. Not without him.” The answer was clear in Lucy's mind like she had walked their path of despair and gathered the answer from their living souls.

They were severely under-supplied. They wouldn’t last long if she decided to attack. A flare was too risky lest the cavern collapsed in on them. One look at Lockwood told her he had reached the same conclusion . A last thing to try then. 

 “Lockwood, let me talk to her. Trust me.”

The silvery coils reflected in his dark eyes. They had no other choice.

“Fine. But if she attacks, we’ll do it my way.”

“Which was?” She smirked.

“Well, I’ll think of something.” He gave her a confident grin.

Lockwood didn’t argue further, which was already a testament to the middle ground that they had reached from their earlier argument.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Behind her, she sensed him moving in sync with her.

“Francesca. I’m Lucy Carlyle. I can help you.”

Far away, in the back of her mind, she heard rustling leaves like heavy sighs. But no answer came. The ghost’s hazy form flickered. 

She moved forward. “Tell me what you need.”

Another murmur blew over her ear. The miasma weighed down her limbs and fogged her brain, but her heart felt like there was an iron hand squeezing over it. She gasped in pain.

“What is it, Luce?” Lockwood’s warmth temporarily blocked out the chill from her back. 

“She needed something desperately . Like she couldn't breathe without it. Couldn't leave.“

“Did she talk to you?”

“Not yet. Give me a couple more minutes.”

Ice particles hung in the air between them. Misty plasm rolled out across the space, almost to their feet. This was no good. She wanted to give Francesca what she wanted. As odd as it sounded, she didn’t want her to suffer even in her afterlife. Lucy held her rapier en garde and advanced. It’s time to take a chance. 

Wrong choice. An outburst of wind knocked over the cavern. She lifted her feet and slammed against the rocky wall. The air was knocked out of her lungs. Lockwood was driven back too, but he quickly assumed an attack position. He ripped out a flare. 

As her head knocked into the rough wall behind, her hand brushed the pocket of her coat where she'd hastily shoved the letter in. Suddenly, she knew. 

The shape closed in on her. Ice crystals spread on her cheek . The cold in her heart was piercing.  

Her breath fogged over the icy expanse between them. “Touch me and you'll never have it.”

The ghost hovered before her. She didn’t come closer. Behind her, Lockwood shouted, “Lucy, move away!” 

No. It can’t end like this. 

She scrabbled at her coat pocket. It was so cold that it seared through her gloved hand. Her fingers dug into the fabric for the scrap of paper.

The letter that Francesca so needed to move on. Of course. How could they not know?

“Lucy! Move!” His voice sounded far away. In the suspense between her plumes of breath and the ghost, there was nothing but silence. Even her heart seemed to have stopped beating.

She felt the change in the atmosphere when she pulled the letter out. The longing and need amounted to an almost insufferable pain, like her heart was exploding with desperation.  

“…need…”

“I know .” She whispered. She dropped the letter on the floor. The rippling plasm raged and coiled , and sank it into the frothing waves. The wisp of paper rose higher and higher, trailing the ghostly form of Francesca Cornwall until her pale hands hugged it above her heart, over her lover’s last words. She gave a shuddering sigh , of contentment, of sorrow, of yearning for a lost love.  

For a moment, the cave illuminated with a blinding light from her form. For a moment, Lucy glimpsed the girl she had been, full of love and light and happiness. And her crown of wildflowers. The light shone brighter and brighter, the wind picked up and whipped around them. Everything rose to a crescendo, playing out the last orchestration of a tragic love story. Her senses numbed. The world around them exploded in a blinding white light. Then, just as suddenly, it winked out and plunged her back into darkness. The emptiness in her head and the too-loud ringing in her ear were deafening.

Everything was quiet for a moment. It was the sort of quiet that signalled the oncoming of a storm - rumbling, fast and loud, like falling stones. Lucy felt the floor shake beneath her.

"Lucy!"

Chapter Text

Lockwood yanked at her arm. “Come on Lucy! The whole place is going down. We need to get out now!”

They ran for a millionth time that night. It was like the tunnel was dissipating with the last of her memory. As they passed by her body, Lucy shook out a silver net and sealed the Source. Extra measure, but the moment Francesca held her lover’s letter, she had passed onto the Other Side. It was nothing but an empty husk now.

A boulder rolled into their way. They veered sharply and collided with the rough wall, shielding their heads with arms. Small rocks and debris and hundred-years old dust rained on them. The dusky light at the end of the tunnel seemed so far away. 

Their faces were cut and bruised, suit and dress torn and ragged and shivering half to dead, but he was by her side again.

Lockwood suddenly dropped to his knees and grunted in pain. A particular chunk had grazed his shoulder. It was bleeding.

"Lockwood!" She gripped his hand and hauled him up. "We have to keep going!"

The circle of light got closer and closer. Faint shouts and commotion outside broke through the onslaught of noises. Shadowy figures flitted through the hazy light. 

George was hacking at the thick vines with his rapier. Beside him, she saw Kipps and Holly vehemently tackling the thick overgrown bushes. 

They started to gain speed. Ducked, rolled,

ran. To her horror, the cave entrance shook vigorously. Their friends stumbled back. Fragments broke loose from the ceiling into a massive heap on the ground. It was nearly to their waist. Soon, it’s going to block the whole entrance.

“Lockwood, Lucy, hurry! George was yelling. "The cave won’t hold!” They already knew that.

Fear twisted her belly. “We’re not going to make it!” 

“Yes, we will! Keep going, Lucy!”

The light was growing smaller and smaller, the mound bigger and bigger. 

Sharp rocks cut at her palms and tore at her leggings. Suddenly, a spine-chilling cold spread from the crown of her head down her spine. She looked up. The ceiling was cracking, jagged lines zigzagged like lightning shooting across the surface. She watched in horror as a large chunk fell towards them. She pushed Lockwood away and dove. Her knees ripped on the shingles. Lockwood threw himself to the other side. 

Through the clouds of dust erupting from rubbles, she heard him cough.

“Lockwood!”

On hands and knees, she crawled over to him. They were close, so close now. But it seemed impossible. Tears lined her lashes.  

“Lockwood, come on!” She yanked on his arms, trying to get him to keep going. For a horrible moment, she thought he had given up. But then his sharp eyes locked onto her and he was up, climbing, pulling her along. 

Closer. Closer. She tripped. Lockwood pushed her back up and ahead of him.

“Go Lucy, don’t look back!”

Terror gripped her belly like a coiling python. They were going to make it. Lockwood was going to make it. This cave wasn’t going to be their burial. 

The ground trembled with vibration. She felt it under her fingers. Squashing down her nausea, she plunged up ahead. She could only hope that Lockwood was right after her this time.

Two lone figures under the relentless thunder. Wind swept in from the entrance ahead, buffeting their battered bodies. Just the last mile.

She looked over at Lockwood. Under the grime and dirt, his tattered suit and ruffled hair, he was as alive as she had ever seen him. He grinned. With him by her side, they could get out of this. They always did. Together. Just a few more steps.

Without warning, Lockwood shoved her to the front. Boulders plundered down the spot where they just stood.

Lucy turned back in alarm. She couldn't see him. There's a wall between them.

"Lockwood!" She started grabbing at the rocks.

“Run Lucy! You can make it!” Lockwood's voice sounded strained and muffled.

“No! Not without you!”

“Run! Please, listen to me for one goddamn time!"

“Lockwood, I won't leave you!”

“I’m climbing up now! I’ll just be a few steps behind. Go, Luce!”

“Are you lying again?” She choked through her tears, her fingers scraping blood against the surface.

“What did I swear to you?” His voice dropped to a promise.

“You will never lie to me again.”

“Good. Now run, Luce! I’ll be right behind! Keep going and don’t look back!”

Run . The voice in the back of her head said. Run. It felt wrong. Her heart shattered as she stepped away.

With enormous strength, she turned around and ran. She opened her ears for footsteps behind her, but the roaring of the cave was too loud. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she looked straight ahead. There, George was waving at the end of the tunnel. 

At last, she broke through the rough hole that their friends had torn in the thicket. Holly caught her in her barrelling run.

Lucy immediately turned back, eyes seeking a running figure, ragged coat flapping at his feet. Her heart gave a leap.

“Where’s Lockwood?” George asked instantly.

“We got separated.” She wrung her bleeding hands in distress. The tears marked her cheek the early chill. Lockwood was running weirdly, favouring his left foot. 

The entrance shook with a thunderous boom. They all staggered.

“No... No!” Lucy pushed free of Holly’s arm and broke into a run back to the tunnel. She only made a few steps before two arms around her waist lifted her off her feet and hauled her back. A few seconds later, the ceiling gave out in a monstrous boom. Rocks collapsed from the ceiling as dust plumed out in waves, knocking them off the ground and choking their lungs. In those few moments, her thoughts were wiped clean. The last image in her mind's eyes was of a tall figure running towards her. 

The ringing in her ears was deafening.

“Lucy!” Someone was calling her name. “Lucy! Wake up!” A sharp stinging pain in her cheek jolted her awake.

There was bustling around her. Voices shouting commands, crunching boots carrying out orders. She coughed on the smoke and dust. A face swam blearily in front of her. 

“Carlyle! For God’s sake, open your eyes!” Her eyes split wide open. The memory hit her like a freight train. The crumbling tunnel. A running figure. Lockwood. 

She bolted upright and got unsteadily to her feet. George was hovering nearby, his hands extended as if to grab her if she fell. One of his lenses was cracked. Holly, dress torn and bleeding. Kat with a cut on her face. Kipps was nearby, running his hand through his hair racked with dirt. His face looked distraught. But no sign of Lockwood. Her heart turned cold as she swivelled round and round, searching the faces in the crowd.

“Lucy…” George was saying something. The throbbing of her heart drowned out the sounds.

“George, where’s Lockwood?” Lucy asked him.

George's doughy face was singed with black marks. And looked suspiciously wet. He didn't answer.

"George, where is he?"

“He’s inside.”

“What do you mean he’s inside?” The feedback in her brain was stopping her from thinking straight. It couldn’t be. She must have heard it wrong.

“He… He didn’t make it in time.” Holly turned her face away and wiped a stray tear. “Barnes is organising a rescue team as we speak.” She put a hand on her arm.

“No… I… I saw him!" Lucy yanked her arm away.

Her breath quickened. The scene around her was too fuzzy, everything didn’t make sense in her head.  

"He was right there… he must be!”

She tried to take a step forward but tumbled. George and Holly rushed to hold her.

“Kipps pulled you out just in time or we would have lost you too, Lucy!” George's grip tightened on her shoulder. “Who knows, he might have jumped back in time before it collapsed and is stubbornly trying to push his way out.”

Lucy grabbed his shoulder. Her eyes were blurry with tears.

“He can't... He can't be d…” The word got stuck in her throat. Her lips wobbled. George pulled her into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around him and shook.

She couldn’t say it. It would be too real. “I can’t lose anyone else, George.” She choked out a sob. Dead. Dead. Dead . White soulless eyes. A hollow face with a sad smile. He couldn’t… 

He couldn’t. 

A strangled cry escaped her throat. Her body trembled. It was all her fault. She shouldn’t have come back. It was what's yet to come.

She's out of the woods. But he never came out.

George's shoulders were heaving too. She buried her face into his chest as Holly hugged them both. Her face was wet with silent tears. Stiffling sobs tore out of her. Maybe she was cursed. The curse that fated one of them to watch the other die. The twisted echoes of the past that never truly left her.  She fisted her jacket, right above her heart. It felt like it had broken into pieces and she didn’t know how she was still breathing, grieving him in greedy gulps of air that he was ripped from.

Her world dropped to a silence. Then was blasted aloud with a shout. 

There were faint clamours from the distance. Suddenly, the noise around her rose up to a crescendo, like someone had put the volume on maximum. 

“There! There!” 

"Hurry! Get more people! And the medic team now!"

Kipps and Kat started running. Holly stood up. A hopeful look on her face. Lucy pushed away from George and looked. 

“Move! Hurry!” Barnes was shouting, a shovel in his hands.

“George, Lucy, I think… Come on!” Holly started running too.

Is he… Lucy got up unsteadily and pulled George up. They shared a teary smile and together, they sped towards the smoking rubble. 

Cheers erupted when they got to the end of the crowds. There were clappings, joyful shouts and hoots.

“You had me there, son.” Barnes’voice rose above the noises.

“What could I say? It’s arbitrary.” A familiar deep voice joked, though tiredly. 

It’s Lockwood. Lockwood. 

Lucy brusquely pushed through the building crowd. She saw the large clearing and their little team. Then the back of a tall slim figure.

Lockwood. Lockwood was standing there, coat torn and dust-covered, blood trickled from his forehead. She let out a choke gasp.

He turned around just as their eyes met. He gave her a familiar grin, gaunt and tired. But every bit as charming as she remembered.

She slowly broke away from the crowd. One step, two steps, then broke out into strides. It was as if he would disappear if she blinked. He held her gaze.

Gravels crunched beneath her boots. She held his gaze. Until he was right in front of her. 

It was as though the hand that was slowly suffocating her was pulled off, and her face scrunched up, taking in the first gulp of air.

“Hi, Lucy.” Every Hi he'd said to her ran through her mind at that moment.

Her eyes turned blurry. Two slaps rang through the stunned clearing.

"You...," she closed her eyes and voice trembled, "are a massive prick."

His eyes stared back at her in surprise. And sorry. At once, he was lost for words. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.

She fell to her knees and brought him with her, the weight of winning him back from Death knocked her clean off. She grasped Lockwood’s lapel and yanked him forward, burying her sobs into his chest.

It smelled of smoke and iron. It smelled of him.

Lucy’s shoulders shook as let her tears loose. She bawled into the remnant of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face next to hers. She felt it tighten, hugging her safely and securely. 

In hindsight, her chest-racking cries were quite unrefined when she recalled, as she practically snot and sneezed all over him. Thanks Heaven the clearing was almost emptied when they broke apart, saved for their little group and Barnes. 

Lucy untangled herself from his embrace, only enough to still feel him close. She stared at the face she never thought she would see again and placed a hand on his slightly-tinged cheek. She smiled tearily.

“Hi, Lockwood.” 

He grasped it in his own and leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. They closed their eyes and breathed each other in.

“It’s good to see you too.”

George’s voice cut through, “Well if you two are done, I’d like to hug my best friend too.”

Chapter Text

It was 4:00 am when they were allowed to return to the lodging. They were given all clear, scrapes and bruises and burns treated. Lockwood sported a minor concussion but nothing serious.

He collapsed on the rickety folded bed at the end of the room. It let out a groan and a few creeks, nothing unlike the bones in his body right now. Being rained down by several rocks tended to have that effect. The girls had departed to their rooms. He could hear the showers being turned on . The pipes roared to life behind the wall. It reminded him of the tunnel mere hours ago. Despite being almost drowned and buried alive, Lucy had agreed to come back to the Agency. Lockwood counted that as a massive success. Minus a mansion being exploded . At least it hadn’t been burn t to the ground. 

He smiled into his pillow as an image of a fiery brown-hair girl filled his mind. The deserted hallway of the mansion flashed through - their kiss. 

“Lockwood, you’re grinning into your pillow.” George closed his notebooks, where he had been scribbling accounts on their case. “Should’v e let Barnes tak e you to that hospital.”

“I’m fine, George.” Lockwood carefully rearranged his features in a somewhat dignified manner. "And it's not an actual hospital , they're just a local doctor who's probably going to bluff his way through with some painkillers."

Kipps’s smug face swam into his view. He peered down at his face with a smirk that might have earned some stabs to his backside. Lockwood groaned and pushed him away.

“Ah, George, I think this had nothing to do with concussion, so rest your motherly heart.” He jumped on the bed beside George, kicking off his boots as he did.

Lockwood shut his mouth cause it wouldn’t do to have a dead glow on this bedroom floor while he was trying to sleep.

“So, Tony,” Kipps smirked, “Did you do the deed?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Lockwood ra ised his bro ws. It’s five in th e morning and they just got back an hour ago. It was one heck of a night. 

“Yeah, pray tell Kipps , I’m on the edge of the bed with my curiosity for the deed.” George chimed in, though his voice laced with a knowing mischief.

As unsettling as it seeme d, Kipps’s age did indeed come with experience, and not the kind that necessarily deals with ghosts, but rather with the other half, a very alive part of the population.

“I am the one on the edge of the bed, Cubbins. This bed isn’t big enough for two sausages, let alone one giant doughnut.” Kipps rolled his eyes.

“Bec ause I’m as pliant as a properly raised doughnut, and you’re as fittingly tangy as the mustard on the hotdog.” 

Lockwood let out a crackling laugh, feeling all the bones in his body protest. 

“I won't even." Kipps wrinkled his nose in disgust and threw up his hands. "Right, Tony, the deed. Don’t play dumb.”

Lockwood flinched internally, though he carefully kept his face hidden. He hadn’t told anyone that Lucy was coming back to the Agency. They hadn’t had a chance what with all the commotions after that. He wanted to keep it for himself a little longer. It’s like a secret promise that she would be back to him. To keep him sane. To keep him alive.

Kipps leaned back and stared at their water-streaked ceiling, “A baboon will possess more emotional intelligence than you two together. Frankly, I’m not surprised you kis sed her before actually resolving your problems.”

A sudden ringing noise filled Lockwood’s head.  He felt his limbs go cold and his heart dropped through the flimsy fabric of his camp bed. On the double bed, Kipps and George sniggered like an old married couple in on their kid’s deepest, darkest and most humiliating sec ret.

“To be frank, Kipps, it is his preferred course of action. Jumping headfirst before talking is definitely your kind of thing, Lockwood.” George gave a hoot of laughter.

Lockwood sputtered, “What? I didn’t... we haven’t...” but he could feel his ears growing hot under their scrutinising gaze.

“Right, that sounds very convincing if it's calm your fretting arse, but I got my answer.” Kipps slapped the pillow in triumph.

“Can’t we all just rest the case? It’s early morning and we need to catch up on sleep.” Lockwood huffed and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Oh, no way in hell I’m going back to sleep after this.” George took off his glasses and eagerly rubbed them in his nightshirt. He put it back on, and his gaze snapped into focus like an owl pinning its prey.

Silence hung over the room as they waited. Lockwood mentally regretted every single decision that had led him to come into this room. Sleep didn’t sound as alluring as before. 

“Well?” Kipps’ voice sounded impossibly more irritating. 

Lockwood threw the pillow to the side and pushed himself up on the bed, sinking a bit into the fabric in the middle. He regained as much composure as he could muster and folded his hand on his knees. He prayed that his answer came out as confident and smooth as he appeared to be.

“No. Lucy and I,” His vowels jumbled at her name , “we didn’t kiss or do anything of the sort.” Great, his voice cracked at kiss , as his mind was drawn unbidden to the sight of her, sweet and rumpled and breathless in his arm.  

“Lockwood,” George made a tutting noise, "We just let it slide in the case of imminent death by an angry ghost lady. But that glittering red on the corner of your lip and Lucy’s lightning-struck hair was not from a magnesium flare.”

“Oh, and I saw him wipe it away too .” Kipps smiled as he flicked an imaginary dust off his blanket.

One day, Lockwood would have to jab his rapier into Kipps’ bum again. Soon. 

“Come on, spit it out, Tony. Your face is giving all sorts of details that I don’t want to take the liberty of imagining.” 

“True, and you kissed her forehead after Luce slapped your face. Twice. On both sides. I've never seen her that angry before. Frankly, you deserved it. We’re glad to have you back.” George wiggled his brows, “But you’re down bad and even Barnes can see it.”

“What does Barnes have anything to do with this?”Lockwood scanned the room. The door was just right there, at the end of the bed. He could beat a hasty retreat. He had half lifted his leg off the camp bed when Kipps’ voice stopped him dead in his tracks, “If you run away, I’m going to bring this up at breakfast, in front of everyone .”

Lockwood wanted to reach for his rapier now. “Fine.” He settled back down. His heart thumped against his ribcage. “Fine. Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“You two are insufferable. Yes, we kissed. Now can we please go back to sleep?” He seethed.

George gave a cackling laugh. Kipps' voice chimed in seconds later. 

“And here I thought you were never going to make the move!” 

“Can you please keep it down? They are right next door to our room!” Lockwood shot a nervous look at the door. 

“Right, sorry.” George doubted they could hear it through the rumbling of the pipes, but he would protect Lockwood's wounded ego if he could hear the rest.

“So, how did it go?” Kipps asked. He was positively beaming.

“You don’t need to know that.” Lockwood crossed his arms and stared them down, willing the beating in his heart to calm down.

“ Well, judging by your face earlier, I dare say it went well?”  

Lockwood refused to look at either of them. “I ’ m not di scussing it with you. And to be honest, it’s a ruse to escape the patrolling guards . "

“An d h ow’s tha t going to make sense?” Kipps’ brows shot to his hairline.

“It’s so obvious, Kipps. If they caught a couple making out in a deserted and forbidden part of the mansion, it’s more believable to explain that they’re being handsy and getting it on than they’re sneaky guests who want to dig in the owner’s secret.” It was like George was reading a report of a crime scene. Straightforward, matter of fact. It didn’t ring like that in Lockwood’s head though . 

Lockwood could feel his ears getting warmer. The air was suddenly much more stifled than before.

“We were not getting it on . And there’s nothing handsy about it.” Great, he was definitely not thinking about how her dress had bunched up around her thigh beneath his grasping hand.  

“Your face is still saying plenty, Tony.” Kipps winked. “There’re hands involved.” 

“Eeww, Kipps. I’m not ready to see that in my head. Haven’t got breakfast yet.” George shuddered.

“Well, grow up Cubbins . Tony had one foot in the real world now. He’s the man.” Kipps cackled. George made a disgusted face.

Lockwood wanted to burn a hole right through the floor and buried himself in it. 

“Shut up.” He pull ed the blanket over his head. This was exactly why he insisted on single rooms.

“Glad you asked her to come back though .” George piped up after their laughter died down. 

“What?” He rose under the blanket and yanked it off.

“It’s written all over her face. And how you two can’t seem to be separated in the medic van.“ George sighed exaggeratedly.

Lockwood let it slide. The springs groaned mightily as he plopped back down. Lucy was back, and George was happy with him again. Hell, even Kipps’ small sniggers sounded comforting in that rundown bedroom. He smiled as he could just imagine a rumple girl next door passed out in her sleep. It’s good to have them back again. 

Lockwood woke up when the sunlight streamed through the holes in the curtains. It’s been so long since he had sleep. The room was empty. George and Kipps were nowhere to be seen.

He lay there, letting his thoughts run over the events of last night.

How her voice had rung through their fight in another water-lodge tunnel. He shored that in mind as one of the places to look for if he wanted to force their secrets out.

He remembered the look in her eyes when he dug his way out of those ruins. Broken and scared. And how they closed as he kissed her forehead.

The stinging of her slaps. The promise to come back.

The room was empty. Too empty. 

A panic rose in his chest. What if...? 

It couldn’t. She promised. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a towel. This was irrational. He stamped his fear down while brushing and letting the cold water shake him awake. 

It just couldn’t. He would go down to breakfast as normal, cool-headed and composed head of an agency.

Nothing happened.

He pushed down the lodge in his throat as he went next door and knocked.

No one answered. They could still be sleeping. 

Knock. Knock. His throat constricted. No, no, no, no. He twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

“Luce?”

The room was empty. He scanned the neatly made bed. She never made her bed. Unless … unless - the knife in his heart twisted. The ringing in his ear grew louder. The air was suddenly knocked out of his lungs. 

Lockwood thundered down the steps two at a time, heart beating a frantic rhythm in his throat. He burst into the sitting room, breath ragged and chest heaving, and saw four pairs of eyes staring back at him. He scanned the room. Not one of them was the shade of brown he was looking for. The floor shattered under his feet, and he felt his reality tilted.

Swallowing thickly, Lockwood made his way to the fireplace. He stared at the remaining ashes of last night's fire and took deep breaths.

Get it together. Say something.

“Lockwood, she is in the kitchen.” In as much of a deadpan voice as he could muster, George decided to put him out of his misery. 

He snapped his head to George, voice somehow lost in the swirls of emotions.

Kipps crunched into his toas, “Gosh, it’s too early for this.” Holly calmly sipped her chamomile tea, hiding a small smile. At that exact time, a voice piped up at the door,

“Hi, Lockwood.”

He looked up just in time to catch Lucy’s eyes, hands holding two cups of tea.

Suddenly, the sun seemed brighter in the room. He relaxed his grip on the fireplace and gave her a small smile,

“Hi, Lucy.” The ice in his chest thawed.

“Was going to check up on you. How’s your head?” Lucy handed him a cup of perfectly made teak-coloured tea.

“Never better.” He felt his smile impossibly widen as he took a seat next to her. This felt right. This felt like home. He was pulled back to the first moment when she had stepped through his living room in Portland Row - those brown eyes, awkward smile and a fiery temper that flipped his world over.

He heard her small hum as she busy herself scooping sugar in her tea, and he grabbed the knife to butter her toast. 

His world came back to colour once again. Right then, forever seemed to be just the right word.

Chapter Text

Putting this here because I saw Jonathan Stroud posted a story with Ealing Studio about exciting things to come with a new set in production AAAHHH!!! And right after 3 posts about Lockwood & Co like what are you hinting at????!!!!

For real if they’re making Season 2 I’m going to write so many more fics for this fandom ♥️ And reread the books and rewatch the series for the uncounted times!!!

Also guys I suddenly saw a surge in new readers for this story and fandom like where you at is there a group add me please 😂