Chapter Text
Growing up Lockwood’s parents and sister made sure he knew about soulmates. Donald and Cecila were soulmates. Jessica had one too. Lockwood always thought it was funny that his pop-loving sister would randomly start singing rap and rock.
He would always remember the first time his soulmate sang to him. He’d been on the way home from school. Mama had asked what he’d learned that day so he sang London Bridge the entire walk home. She sang with him too. It was nice and happy until he stopped suddenly in the middle of a rousing falling down.
Please stop friend. It hurts to sing so much. Please stop friend. Sing again another day fell from his mouth.
Cecila halted on the sidewalk and knelt down next to her now frightened son.
“Alright, my little Ant. I think your soulmates had enough today. Maybe we can sing for them some other time?” Lockwood nodded in between sniffles.
“What else did you learn about today sweetheart,” Cecila said trying to redirect her little boy before he had a meltdown a few blocks from home.
“That donuts and biscuits are sometimes foods,” Lockwood said with a pout. Cecila gasped in horror.
“I can’t believe it. Anytime is donut and biscuit time. In fact, I can see Arif’s store from her. How about we get some donuts for dinner tonight? I’m sure Jessie and Papa would be happy if we brought home some red currant jelly ones.”
Lockwood smiled broadly at his mama and nodded excitedly. “Can we get double chocolate too?”
“We can get double chocolate too,” Cecila smiled softly. Lockwood grabbed his mother’s hand, pulling her towards Arif’s shop all terror forgotten.
**
After the car crash, Lockwood stopped singing for a while. His Mama and Papa weren’t around to sing with him, and Jessie was always crying. His Uncle, while a nice man wasn’t his Papa, and wasn’t much for dealing with children.
His soulmate would sing to him a lot. They sang mostly made-up songs telling him about their day. Some days he sing back, but he enjoyed the little songs. Jessie’s soulmate would sing too. Jessie never sang back.
**
When his uncle died and they moved back home, Jessie found her soulmate. The red-haired young man wore the grey uniform of Fittes and carried a jeweled rapier. Jessie seemed happier and was singing again.
Lockwood watched the two together. He wasn’t sure he liked the older man. Quill Kipps Field Agent Grade 6 – Sight and Touch, seemed to be more interested in his career and prestige than in Jessie. He would give the man credit though, he introduced Lockwood to his fencing instructor. Jessie refused to let Lockwood be an agent. She always told him that Mama and Papa hadn’t wanted that for him. They wanted him to be happy and normal. However, he excelled at fencing. It was a good outlet for all his energy and helped him focus on school. So, Jessie allowed him to continue with it. Kipps encouraged his efforts as well, giving him tips and pointers when he practiced in the basement of their home.
Then the unthinkable happened. She was gone, and it was all his fault. He refused to help Jessica with going through the boxes of items left from their parents’ travels. If only he’d been there a few minutes sooner. He might have been able to save her.
Days later when he stood over the freshly dug grave next to his parents’ empty ones, he made himself a promise. He wouldn’t sing again if he could help it. Everyone around him died. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if he found his soulmate only for them to die too.
Kipps made sure he wasn’t alone those first few nights. Both wallowed in their grief staring at the bright death glow above her bed. He helped Lockwood set up the iron strips and lavender arrangements to prevent Jessica from returning.
“It’ll be alright Tony,” Kipps said the last night he stayed.
The next day Gravedigger Sykes, an old friend of the family, appeared on Lockwood’s doorstep and offered the boy a chance to make a difference and become the agent he always dreamed of being.
**
After a year with Sykes, the older man pulled Lockwood from school. They were working small jobs and the hours were taking a toll on Lockwood’s school work. Not to say Lockwood didn’t have maths or history assignments. A tutor came by every afternoon between his research time and rapier practice. They covered everything he would have in school, but without the boring teachers. His tutor tried her hardest to make the lessons as fun and exciting as ghost hunting. Sometimes she even succeeded.
Most days, he received a song from his soulmate. Though those days were becoming fewer and farther between the older he got. He couldn’t always pinpoint what they sang, but they brought comfort on the long nights with just Gravedigger for company. The man was fine, but Lockwood missed his friends from school. They’d tried to have some get-togethers with the smaller agencies so Lockwood could network, but everyone seemed to find the gangly boy dressed like a funeral director weird.
On a particularly boring job, involving a specter that only appeared between midnight and two AM, Lockwood took to practicing his wards in the iron circle while Gravedigger watched.
“Lockwood, focus. Go through the mnemonic. You’re forgetting the Fittes Double and the Kobayashi Flip,” Gravedigger grumbled.
Lockwood tried speaking through the mnemonic at first, but the timing was all wrong. So he put it to a simple tune that allowed him to get through the words while flowing from stance to stance. It’d be a little hint for his soulmate. They’d know that he was an agent after this.
He ran through the song a few more times until Gravedigger shrugged his approval for Lockwood’s work. Not long after Lockwood finished his practice, the visitor appeared in his peripheral vision. It was time to earn his biscuits.
**
Robin had walked off a rooftop not a week ago and DEPRAC had suspended their license pending an investigation. So instead of handling the case of the specter in the old man’s garage, they were having a quiet night in the library. Lockwood had his parent’s record player out, the strains of Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday accompanying their reading. The latest issue of London Society was filled with a series of articles on the Duke of Marlborough’s youngest daughter and her burgeoning relationship with a Rotwell Team Lead. They bored Lockwood, but for some reason, sleep wouldn’t come.
George excused himself for bed just after midnight. Lockwood remained in the library. When he finished his magazine, he switched to a detective novel he’d read several times. When he reached one of his favorite scenes, his mouth began to move. Words to a song he didn’t recognize poured out. Maybe his soulmate was just reaching out, sharing something they liked with him. He sang softly as he read. The detective in his novel made a brilliant deduction after overhearing a critical piece of information. Song after song, Lockwood kept going with no end in sight. Maybe they were at karaoke, enjoying a night out with friends. After an hour of singing, Lockwood started to worry. He could hear George snoring upstairs. Lockwood didn’t want to disturb his friend, so he headed for the basement.
He tried to distract himself with some outstanding paperwork. He sat at his desk, the ghost jar as his only companion. The light green glow of it was more comforting than Lockwood thought it would be. The face wasn’t making faces at him, it almost looked concerned as he continued to sing for another hour.
Lockwood stood and cracked his neck. He looked at his watch. 3 a.m. stared back at him. His soulmate had been singing for three hours without stopping. His anxiety spiked. Something was wrong and he couldn’t help them. Was his curse so strong it could reach his soulmate before they’d ever even met? Lockwood’s breathing quickened. His heart pounded in his chest the way it had when he panicked on jobs with Sykes. He stumbled over to one of the pillars holding the first floor, pressing his back into it. His hand fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as he tried to open his collar. Lockwood slid to the floor, struggling to breathe. He stuck his head between his knees trying his beath to draw deep breaths as he choked on the words of another song.
They would be alright. They had to be alright. He would find them and keep them safe.
George found him there around breakfast time curled into a ball croaking out the words to another song.
“Why do you look like you’ve been hit by a bus,” George asked. He was used to the enigmatic habits of his friend/landlord/boss, but this was strange. Lockwood looked up at George with red-rimmed eyes, his mouth still moving.
“Lockwood, this isn’t funny. What’s wrong?” George hurried over to kneel by Lockwood. He did a quick once-over as Lockwood continued.
“All..we..ever…wanted… was everything,” he choked.
“Since when do you listen to Bauhaus,” George asked. Lockwood shook his head.
“Oh,” Goerge said his eyes widening in shock, “Oh…. Fuck… Lockwood. Why didn't you tell me you had a soulmate?”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. His throat felt like sandpaper, but he couldn’t stop. George helped him upstairs into the kitchen. The other boy busied himself with pouring a large cup of water, a mug of tea, and a plate of biscuits. Lockwood got some sips of water in between songs.
George began to hurriedly scribble notes into a corner of the thinking cloth watching Lockwood with nervous eyes.
Suddenly Lockwood stopped his mouth falling closed, silent at last. He gulped the remaining water and tea down. Then he stood and began to pace the room.
“Somethings wrong George,” he said voice hoarse with overuse.
“Do you know anything about them? Anything from what they’ve sung to you in the past that might help us find them? Bauhaus is a start, but it's not enough,” George said.
“I don’t. They never told me anything of consequence through song. It was always little bits of nothing here and there. Maybe an agent, like us? A lot of the singing has happened in the small hours after we’re home from jobs.”
George nodded concern growing as Lockwood started to run his hands through his head. He was a bundle of energy without direction. That was always dangerous with Lockwood.
“I’ll go the archives, look at the papers. See if there’s mention of an incident last night. I know a guy from the record shop who may be able to work the Bauhaus lead,” George said. He needed to give Lockwood something to do.
“I’m just supposed to stay here while you do all that,” Lockwood snapped. “My soulmate is out there possibly injured, maybe dead and you want me to stay here?”
George rolled his eyes. “I want you to rest. You’ve been up all night and you’ve obviously damaged your voice.”
“I…. George….” George ignored Lockwood’s face. The pleading look always got to him.
“I think I have some sleeping pills you can you,” George offered.
“No,” Lockwood said softly. “I…I’m knackered. I can go to sleep without meds.”
George nodded, “then go. I’ll wake you up when I get home.”
Lockwood nodded tiredly. George poured him another cup of water, pushing it into his shaking hand. Lockwood drank some before heading up the stairs. He collapsed into his bed, not even bothering to undress.
**
His soulmate didn’t sing again for days. With each passage of the sun through the sky, Lockwood grew more and more anxious. George hadn’t been able to find anything that could be tied to the bits and pieces they were able to puzzle out about his soulmate. If his soulmate didn’t sing something soon, he was going to lose it.
Lockwood was restless and, in the basement, running rapier drills to exhaust himself. His watch told him it was nearly two in the morning when his mouth started to move.
I’m putting you out of your misery.
‘Cause darling you’re dragging me down
I wish I could say that I’m sorry
But I’m over that, now I’m taking you out.
It’s a cruel, cruel world
His heart lept and cracked at the same time. His soulmate was alive but hurting. He threw his practice rapier into the rapier stand and headed upstairs.
He sang softly through his shower and as he settled into bed. Soon he found himself drifting off to sleep with the words of his soulmate’s song on his lips.
The pattern repeated every day for the next month. Lockwood would be restless until the wee hours of the morning. His soulmate would start singing the same song. According to George, it was a song called Cruel World by Phantogram.
George was optimistic that his record store connection would be to help narrow down the pool of people that liked both Phantogram and Bauhaus.
Lockwood stayed up, reading in bed, waiting for his nightly song to start. The clock on his bedside showed one a.m. and still nothing. Thinking over his options, Lockwood smiled to himself.
Softly, so as not to disturb George, Lockwood began to sing the song his father always sang to his mother. His favorite for those nights he had trouble sleeping.
Stars Shining Bright Above
Night breezes seems to whisper I love you
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me
Say nighty night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear
Just saying this
He sang it twice through to make sure whoever was on the other end got the message. They were not alone and Lockwood wanted to be in their life. As he finished the second round, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
**
He continued the pattern of the next week. If his soulmate wasn’t singing by midnight, he would sing to them. Lockwood was slowly working through all the Jazz standards he knew. He was sure they must be sick of his taste in music at this point. Considering, according to George, they seemed to favor punk rock.
His soulmate’s song found him going over the accounts. He and George were interviewing new assistants over the next few days and he wanted to be certain the pay rate he could offer.
Lockwood actually recognized the song for once. London Calling by The Clash. The quintessential welcome to London song in every movie. Maybe they were trying to tell him they were coming to London. Maybe it was nothing, just the song they’d chosen for the night. Either way, it filled him with hope that he’d get to meet them soon.
**
“You win, there was one more,” George called from behind him. Lockwood looked down at the paper in his hand one last time. The last name, Beatrice, had been crossed through several times.
“No, you win,” he argued, “I checked the list. That was the last one.”
“Then who’s this,” George asked. Lockwood looked up into the mirror seeing a short person with brownish hair. He turned around, a businesslike smile plastered on his face. When his eyes met her, he froze. The girl was beautiful. Dressed in blue pants and a striped sweater, she seemed to stare directly into his soul.
Something about her drew him in. He wanted to know everything about her, including her taste in music.
“Hello, I’m Anthony Lockwood,” he said allowing a real smile to break through his work face.
“I’m Lucy Carlyle, I don’t have an appointment. But I saw your advert in the paper, and I was in the area.
**
He retreated to the library after dinner. Lucy needed time to settle in, and he was looking forward to singing for his soulmate. The record player was already set up playing one of his favorite Ella Fitzgerald records. As he flipped through the latest London Society he found himself quietly singing a song that was not one on the record. His soulmate was singing early tonight. His soulmate seemed happier and more upbeat if their choice of song was anything to go by.
Once the singing stopped, Lockwood found himself chuckling at an article about the best and worst dressed at a recent DEPRAC lock-in party. He felt lighter knowing his soulmate was doing better. He could just hear George on the stairs talking to someone, probably Lucy.
A few minutes later, she appeared in the doorway. The exchange was both surface-level and intense at the same time. Something about having her here in the house, at the agency, felt right. Like she was the missing puzzle piece in Lockwood and Co. She’d asked if the agency was good enough for her. He swore to himself that he would move heaven and earth to make sure she understood that there was no future for Lockwood and Co where she wasn’t there.
They fell into a companionable silence after that. Lucy just sat there, seeming to enjoy his company and the music.
He didn’t even realize she was asleep until he happened to look over, wanting to show her an especially funny article about some new fashion designer’s recent collection of swan-inspired clothing. He smiled softly. She looked so much younger in her sleep.
The record player started to play the song Lockwood was waiting for.
Stars Shining Bright Above
Night breezes seems to whisper I love you
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me
He picked up the tune at the next line. “Say nighty night, and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me”
It wasn’t until the second chorus that he realized Lucy was singing in her sleep. He kept singing, his heart bursting with hope, as he leaned closer. Her words matched his, all be bit a few seconds behind.
She was his soulmate? How could he be so lucky? No wonder he felt drawn to her the moment he saw her. She was perfect. She was gorgeous and feisty. He couldn’t wait to get to know all of Lucy’s sides. His mind was already wandering to his sister’s room and a necklace that Jessica had made him promise to give to someone special. Someone that he looked at like his father looked at his mother.
As he finished the song, it hurt to wake her up. Lucy couldn’t sleep in that chair all night.
“Lucy,” Lockwood said softly as he shook her awake. She wiggled a little, her nose scrunching in the cutest way.
“huh?” Her eyes opened slowly. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her long eyelashes bat way the sleep.
“You fell asleep. I was getting ready to turn in and figured you wouldn’t want a crick in your neck,” he fibbed. There was no way sleep would come easy for him tonight.
“Oh, thanks.” A blush crept across her face. How cute! Lockwood’s mind was already buzzing with ways to make that blush reappear as often as possible.
“Goodnight Lucy,” Lockwood said with a smile. He stood and stretch relishing the little pops in his spine.
“Sleep well Lockwood,” she said standing as well. He watched her leave, a smile on his lips.
**
Lucy fit into Lockwood and Co just as perfectly as Lockwood predicted. He took great pride in seeing her come out of her shell a bit more every day. George was even warming up to her. Then she had to go and be instrumental in two big cases on top of the realization that she was powerful enough to talk to a type 3. Lockwood was so proud of her and felt so lucky to have her by his side on jobs. She was everything he could ever ask for.
While he’d stopped their routine of nightly singing, he still did sing. But the songs now were more geared toward communicating his feelings. He needed the outlet while he worked to plan the romantic reveal Lucy deserved. She’d had so little love in her life, he wanted to show her that everything would be different moving forward. When he cocked up the Bickerstaff job, he found apology songs. He’d been so caught up in his fight with Kipps he hadn’t realized that Lucy was in the crosshairs, or that his actions came across a bit suicidal sometimes.
Then the invitation to another Fittes Ball arrived on their doorstep. His shoulder wasn’t completely healed yet, but he wanted to make sure he could do what he planned. He would rest it for the next couple of days and religiously do his PT exercises if it gave him a night free of the sling.
Lockwood gave Lucy his credit card and told her to find a new dress and shoes she liked for the event. She seemed uncertain as he handed her the piece of silver plastic. Regardless, he saw the bags when she came back. She’d shopped at the boutique he’d recommended. Perfect.
**
When he watched her descend the stairs that night, he was left utterly speechless. She’d forgone her signature blue in favor of black. Lucy was always gorgeous, but she reminded him of an old film star. Her curled hair framed her face. But what caught his eye was the glint at her throat. She was still wearing it.
Lucy was taller too, reaching just about his shoulders instead of his collarbones. That would make what he planned for the night easier for certain.
“Hey.” She was smiling at him, her eyes sparkling in the light.
“Hi,” he said returning the smile. He offered her his arm.
“I’m going to check on the cab,” George said from behind him, already out the door. Once the door was closed, they shared a small grin.
“I didn’t expect you to wear it,” he confessed.
“Of course, I’d wear it. You gave it to me,” Lucy said softly. His heart swelled with love. Lucy had no idea what those words did to him.
“It…” he started. Stop, don’t make a fool of yourself. “It means a lot that you are.”
She did that thing he’d seen girls do when she looked away as if suddenly shy. But Lockwood could still see the blush on her cheeks.
**
He was thankful when they arrived that George had disappeared. He loved George like a brother As such, he did not want to torture the man with seeing his friends moon over each other. Lucy was humoring him as they made the rounds food and drink in hand. It was a work-related party after all. Lockwood would be doing the company a disservice if he didn’t network.
The band started to play a song that Lockwood knew before the first words left the singer's lips. Lucy smiled at the music too. She knew the song just as well as he did.
Stars Shining Bright Above
Night breezes seems to whisper I love you
“May I have this dance, Luce,” Lockwood asked, offering her his hand.
“I…. Lockwood…..” Lucy stammered unable to find the right word. There was the blush again. Lockwood grinned at her leaning close.
“Trust me,” he all but whispered. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Ok.” That was all he needed to hear before sweeping her out to the dance floor. He put a hand on her waist and took her hand in the other. When her sweaty palm made contact with his shoulder, it felt like tiny bolts of electricity passed between them.
He led her in an easy sway as they reached the part that Lockwood was waiting for.
“Stars fading, but I linger on dear.” His voice was soft and deep. It was just for her ears. He watched, stomach doing somersaults as Lucy’s mouth opened and repeated the line. Her eyes widened in realization.
He continued on in that same soothing deep voice, “ still caving your kiss.”
This time, Lucy seemed to have some control and responded with Ella Fitzgerald’s duet version.
“Oh how I crave your kiss.”
Lockwood smiled down at her. “I’m longing to linger ‘til dawn dear.”
“Oh how you linger on,” Lucy responded. He pulled her close, wondering if she could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest. He bend just slightly, so his lips were at ear level.
“Hello there,” a soft whisper just for her. She squeaked. Her body jumped slightly in his arms, but he held her steady.
“How about we take this somewhere more private,” he offered. They’d stopped swaying and it was starting to draw attention he knew Lucy didn’t want.
He pulled her into a side corridor just out of the party’s line of sight.
“Soulmate yes,” Lockwood teased pulling Lucy against him. She fit against him perfectly, her head slotting into the spot just below his chin. He’d dreamed of this, with every handhold and hug he’d managed since she’d joined the company fueling his imagination.
“When,” she asked.
“The first night. I was singing after you fell asleep and well.” He shrugged holding a chuckle in. He could feel Lucy’s eye roll.
“And you didn’t tell me,” Lucy asked hitting Lockwood’s chest. It didn’t even hurt. It just made his heart pound hard. He wanted her hand to stay there and feel what she did to him.
“I wanted to get to know you first, “Lockwood explained. His eyes bore into her blue ones. Please don’t let this be a rejection. He wasn’t sure if his heart could take that.
“You could have said something,” Lucy argued.
“I tried,” Lockwood groaned. She was being deliberately thick now.
“You did,” Lucy asked in disbelief.
“Tell me Luce, did you dream a little dream of me,” he asked a mischievous grin on his face.
Lucy hit his chest again, that beautiful pink flush rising on her cheeks. “Of course I did you idiot.”
Then she reached up and pulled him to her. He all but groaned as their lips made contact. Even if she was wearing lipstick, they were just as soft as he’d imagined. His hands wandered. One sliding down her waist to her hip. The other slid into her hair relishing the softness as his fingers wrapped around her skull. He changed the angle just enough to allow him full control of the kiss.
Something clicked inside him as they pulled away to catch their breath. He was sure he looked so dopey smiling down at her. A sense of completeness and rightness filled him that he promised himself would linger on the rest of his life.