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Lucy had heard a variety of different sounds throughout her life. Being a Listener, the majority of those sounds had been rather unpleasant. She had been subject to the whispers of the dead, psychic traces of ancient tragedies, the rantings and ravings of a talking skull, and George’s stomach when he was hungry. Of course, the last one wasn’t a sound that Lucy could hear specifically because of her Talent, but it was unsettling all the same.
However, there were plenty of pleasant and more comforting sounds that had surrounded Lucy. She loved the sound of her boots on the pavement as she walked the streets of London, confident and with an air of importance about her. The familiar sound of a pencil scratching as she worked on a sketch was soothing and often grounding. A feeling of safety enveloped her whenever she passed through the front door of 35 Portland Row and she heard her friends making whatever preparations were needed throughout the house. Most likely it was Holly in the kitchen, making sandwiches and filling thermoses before a case. Or George, from which the sounds of papers rustling and last minute note-writing could be heard. And from far below in the basement, the noises of Lockwood’s fervent rapier practice brought a smile to Lucy’s face whenever she heard them.
Yes, Lucy had heard a lot of different sounds in her time. Most of them could be sorted into two categories. There were the good, and there were the bad. But there was one sound that stood out among the rest, one that she would like to listen to forever. It was the sound of Lockwood’s laugh.
Out of every sound ever registered by her ears, Lucy could now say that Lockwood’s laugh was her favorite.
It was a sound that she got to hear more often after the incident at the Fittes House. There were two main reasons for this. The first was the healing that took place in the following months after what happened. An element of danger, one that had been a constant for so long, had been taken out of their lives. It had caused a change in everyone, but specifically Lockwood. Even though the Problem wasn’t going to go away just yet, Lucy could see that he was letting himself enjoy the other aspects of life more. And the wound left by his family’s deaths was also slowly healing, in a less dangerous, more healthy way.
The second reason was simply proximity. Before, their closeness was already on the brink of being inseparable. The necklace of undying devotion pushed them over the edge. Wherever one of them was, it was almost guaranteed that the other was there too.
Because of these two reasons, (and the fact that she wanted to remember every waking moment she spent with Lockwood) Lucy had compiled a mental list of these special moments when she had caught herself lost in time, admiring her favorite sound in the world.
—
The first had happened during her early days with the company, back when she was still ‘Ms. Carlyle’ to Lockwood, a time that seemed so long ago.
“Can be risky business being a Listener,” George had remarked. “There was that girl working for Epstein and Hawkes last year. Good ears, incredibly sensitive insight. But she got so freaked out by all the voices she heard, she ended up jumping into the Thames.”
Lucy had smiled thinly. “Marissa Fittes had my kind of Talent too,” she said. “She didn’t jump anywhere.”
Anthony Lockwood laughed. “Well said, Ms. Carlyle! Right, shut up now, George. We’re here.”
Even then, Lucy knew that Lockwood’s laugh was a sound she would want to remember.
—
Another came courtesy of George Cubbins and Quill Kipps, surprisingly. As the number of months Quill spent with Lockwood & Co. grew, so did the number of petty arguments between him and George. Their arguments were very inconvenient, as they usually took place in the most frequented rooms of the house, such as the kitchen or library. On one such occasion, Lockwood had found himself caught in the crossfire while just trying to enjoy a magazine in his favorite library chair. Once settled in her favorite seat -Lockwood’s lap- Lucy began to whisper in his ear.
“The only two people I’ve heard argue like this are the old married couple who live across the street” she said, causing Lockwood to chuckle.
Lucy continued. “Can you imagine? George would do all of the cooking while Quill took naps on the sofa.”
Lockwood’s smile grew wider. “You do realize you just described what they did this afternoon, don’t you?” He covered his face with a hand. “Oh god, does this mean they only get worse from here?”
Soon, George and Quill’s bickering was drowned out by the growing sound of laughter. Laughter that roared even more when George and Quill turned to face them, their annoyance clear on their faces. Lockwood and Lucy were laughing so hard by then they could barely contain themselves. Hours later, Lucy could still feel the traces of his grip on her waist as he struggled to catch his breath, and her ears were still ringing at the sound of his laughter.
—
The next moment on Lucy’s list was one that she could only remember bits and pieces of. It was Lockwood’s birthday. The celebration was small, just themselves, George, Holly, Quill, Flo, and Holly’ girlfriend Jenny. Still, Lucy spent weeks planning and worrying over the smallest details. While she had plenty of help from Holly and George, she felt like she was the one who needed to be in charge. Not only did she need to, but Lucy wanted to be in charge of her boyfriend’s birthday party. She would have been happy to plan a party for Lockwood to begin with, but the fact that he was her boyfriend made her even happier, almost proud. Well, happy, proud, and stressed.
The day of the party came and Lucy was exhausted. But by some stroke of luck, everything had turned out just fine. All of the food and decorations that were ordered had come in on time and correctly, and the house looked just splendid. The fact that Lockwood had a smile plastered across his face nearly the whole night pleased her very much. Even more pleasing was the champagne that Quill and Jenny had provided. The two had bonded quickly after being introduced. Upon arriving at the party, they stated that bringing alcohol was their ‘unspoken duty,’ due to their ‘elderly’ age.
Drunk on champagne, Lucy’s head had soon become filled with giggly thoughts and Lockwood. She eventually found him sipping on a glass of the wonderful champagne, standing by himself for the first time that night.
“Hey Luce,” he said as she approached him. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you so much for tonight. It’s been amazing.”
“Mhm,” was all that Lucy hummed in response.
Lockwood beamed at his girlfriend, “You’re a mess,” he said lovingly, “I can’t imagine how you’ll feel in the morning.”
“I imagine,” she said slowly, the words dripping from her mouth, “that I will feel pretty good, because I plan on spending the night with you.”
The effect of her words was only slightly tainted by the hiccup that escaped her mouth as she finished the sentence. Her boyfriend’s face flushed, and only got redder when he noticed that Lucy was staring at him, her face adorned by a drunken smile.
“What is it, Luce?” he asked. “What have you got on your mind?”
Lucy let out a small giggle and leaned into him. She tapped his nose with her forefinger, letting out a small “boop.”
“Happy birthday, my little drop of June.”
Lockwood threw back his head with laughter. “Lucy,” he said, “it’s April. Your birthday is in June.”
“Oh,” she gasped, “I guess it is.”
He laughed some more, then threw an arm around her shoulder. Lucy wasn’t in a state to catch on to what was so funny, but she was enjoying herself anyway.
“Come on, let’s go get you some water,” Lockwood told her, still chuckling quietly to himself.
Lucy silently followed him, not sure if it was the alcohol or Lockwood’s laugh that was making her so dizzy.
***
A few days later, Lucy was finally getting the chance to ‘imagine how she’d feel in the morning.’ With no case that evening, Holly and Quill were at their flats while George was off to the Archives. They had the house to themselves. Obviously, that meant that Lockwood was chasing her from room to room, peppering her with kisses and touching as much of her body as he could. The mood plunged further when Lucy ran up the stairs, her hand playfully toying with the doorknob of Lockwood’s room.
“It amazes me how well you read my mind,” Lockwood said, a sly grin on his face.
Lucy wasn’t able to get out any words before suddenly Lockwood was there, turning the knob while simultaneously pushing her back against the door. They quickly moved inside, the change in intensity apparent in the way that Lockwood’s lips were all over hers.
“God, I love you so much Lucy,” he told her, her back now pressed against the wall, his voice muffled against her mouth.
“I love you too,” Lucy finally managed, only once Lockwood had turned his attention to her neck. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep up with your -” she paused, a gasp escaping her lips, “-eager pace tonight,” she teased.
He stopped for a moment, lifting his head up to meet her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine, darling.” He gave her a mischievous smile and added, “You never seem to have any problem keeping up with me.”
She rolled her eyes in annoyance, trying to come up with a retort that was just as cheeky. Her effort was quickly abandoned, however, as Lockwood resumed his attack on her neck, sucking on all the right spots. Lucy leaned back a bit, letting her head rest against the wall. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, not trying to suppress the soft moan that left her mouth.
“Feel good, does it?” Lockwood breathed.
Lucy shuddered at the touch of his lips. “Sh- shut up,” she said.
Lockwood pulled back, a look of satisfaction on his face. Lucy took the opportunity to start pulling off her sweater.
Lockwood raised his eyebrows slightly. “Who’s the eager one now?” he teased.
She leaned in close to him, her lips hovering over his right ear. “Do you want the sweater to come off or not?” she whispered.
Lucy couldn’t help but notice the noise Lockwood made and the way he took a moment to compose himself. He looked at her in such a way that made her legs feel weak, then kissed her deeply.
“Off,” he said firmly. Despite the decisive, serious (and downright attractive) tone in his voice, he had pulled away and she could see how red his lips were starting to get, as well as the goofy sort of grin he often got whenever they were together like this. Then she was smiling, and neither one of them could stop themselves from laughing.
Once they had both been ready, Lucy learned that sex with Lockwood was like that. It was intensity and desire and affection and laughter and fun all at the same time, in a way that made her indescribably happy.
Her sweater didn’t remain on her body much longer and neither did Lockwood’s shirt on his. In seconds they were on the bed, Lucy straddling Lockwood while he sat with his back against the headboard. They took their time then. Each kiss seemed to go on forever. For Lucy, breaking away for breath hardly seemed necessary. Just being with Lockwood was enough to make her feel alive.
Lockwood had just moved his hands from her hips up to her back, aiming to make quick work of her bra, when they heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening and then closing.
“Lockwood! Luce!” George’s voice rang out. “You won’t believe what I just found at the Archives! Where are you?”
They both let out groans of frustration. “Maybe he’ll go away if we don’t say anything,” Lockwood whispered.
“Right, because with every light in the house on it totally looks like we’re not here,” she scoffed. “Besides, you know as well I as do he’s likely to come looking for-”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door. Lucy let out a yelp as Lockwood pushed her off his lap and leaped out of the bed. She almost didn’t have time to crawl under the covers before the door started to open. Lockwood got there just in time, slamming the door shut in George’s face.
“Nope! Can’t come in here!” he cried. “Sorry!”
Lucy heard nothing but a distraught “Oh god” from George before his door across the hall also slammed shut. She let out another groan and pulled the covers over her face. She pulled them back down to her chin when she heard Lockwood sigh. He still stood by the door, facing her, his hands on his hips. He took one look at her and burst out laughing.
“Oh Luce,” he said, “I don’t think we can ever leave this room.”
She chuckled too then, any embarrassment she may have felt gone. Lockwood was still laughing as he walked back from the door and fell onto the bed again. He propped himself up on one elbow so he was looking down at her, another goofy grin on his face. Lucy closed her eyes in a content sort of way, glad they had avoided an even more awkward situation. Lockwood let out one last laugh, then leaned down and kissed her again.
—
One of the fonder memories on Lucy’s list began with a knock on her bedroom door. It awoke her from a rather fitful sleep, so she was glad for the interruption. She was even more glad when she saw it was Lockwood who had knocked. However, the look on his face worried her.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” he asked, his manner greatly subdued compared to normal.
Lucy nodded, wasting no time in leading him over to the bed. Neither of them said anything as she pulled back the covers and gave him her extra pillow. The silence continued as they laid side by side on the small bed, but eventually, when Lockwood reached for her hand underneath the covers, Lucy spoke.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She didn’t need to specify what ‘it’ was. He’d had a nightmare. All of Lockwood & Co. had been plagued with them after the Fittes House incident. There had been plenty of nightmares before that, of course, but none so bad as the ones that came after. A number of nights had been spent with all five of them around the kitchen table, trying to drown their thoughts in tea.
Lucy knew it had been a bad one, then, if Lockwood had come straight to her room rather than try tea first.
“No,” he said quietly. It sounded like his throat was tight.
She turned her head slightly. “I could just hold you for a while, if you want?”
By the light of the ghost lamp Lucy saw a slight nod. They both shifted so they were on their sides, Lockwood in front of her. She gripped him tightly around the middle, hoping she could take away any pain he was feeling. They stayed like that for a little while, though Lucy didn’t try to sleep and she knew Lockwood wasn’t either. His breathing was at least even, but she could tell whatever his nightmare was about was still on his mind.
“It was my sister,” he said, breaking the silence. “I dreamt of the day it happened, and me finding her. Then all of a sudden I was back at the Fittes House in Marissa’s penthouse, and it was you who was dead, not Jessica.”
He let out a shaky breath and turned around to face her, putting both arms around her and pulling her in close. All Lucy could do at that moment was squeeze him tighter and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Her heart ached, but at the same time she felt a flush of pride. Not long ago, Lockwood would have kept something like that to himself and never let her in. Not anymore.
She kissed him again, not able to put her thoughts into words. “I’m sorry, love. Did anything else happen that you wanted to talk about?”
He shook his head. “Can you distract me though? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a while.”
“Of course,” she said. Then she had an idea. “Let me get something first.”
She sat up, turning towards her nightstand. After a few minutes of searching, she found the spare torch she kept in the top drawer. To his credit, Lockwood didn’t question her when she motioned for him to sit up and lift the bedspread until it covered them both. They sat in darkness for a split second before she turned the torch on, carefully avoiding shining the light in either of their eyes.
“Me and Mary used to do this when one of us would get scared at night or couldn’t sleep,” she explained. Wanting to open up to Lockwood like he had to her, she said, “The last time was right before I came to London. Right after the Wythburn Mill.”
He gave a look of understanding. “What do we do?”
Lucy smiled. “We tell each other secrets. I have to tell you something you don’t know about me, and you tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Well you know me, Luce. I’m an open book.”
She only gave him a slight slap on the arm for the good-natured sarcasm. “I’ll start then. When I was six, my sister Alice made me so mad that I actually packed a bag so I could run away. I made Mary promise to come with me, but we only made it to the other side of town before it got dark and we got scared. Mam was already asleep by the time we got back, but we were so scared of her finding out that we stayed up nearly til dawn playing this game.”
Lockwood was smiling too for the first time that night. “I don’t remember it, but Jessica told me once about a time when I tried to run away. I must have been about six as well. I had broken one of my parents’ Polynesian ghost catchers, and was afraid they would be terribly angry with me.” He paused, thinking. “You probably made it farther than I did. According to Jessica, I only made it as far as Arif’s before I got hungry and came home.”
They shared a laugh over that. Lucy waited, but he said nothing more.
“It’s still your turn, Lockwood,” she said. He started to protest, but she cut him off. “Piggybacking off of another secret doesn’t count, it’s a cardinal rule!”
“If you say so. How about me and George’s first case? You don’t know that story, do you?”
She shook her head, and she could tell by the way Lockwood was grinning the story was a good one.
“It was actually the family next door. I think they felt bad for us, being a new company with so little business. Robin wasn’t even with us at that point, that’s how early on it was. It was a simple Shade hanging around in their basement, not doing much except being an annoyance in the laundry room. Yet, somehow, by the end of the night George had managed to rip a dangerously large hole in the seat of his trousers, and half of my left eyebrow was almost completely burnt off.”
Lucy laughed so hard she actually snorted. “What? How did that happen?”
The sadness she’d seen in Lockwood’s eyes was completely gone. He too chuckled at the memory, raising a finger to his eyebrow. “I don’t exactly remember. You should be glad it grew back before I met you.”
They laughed again, and some more after that. It was early morning by the time they finished telling secrets, but Lucy didn’t care. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her arms around Lockwood, and the sound of his laugh planted firmly in her memory.
—
The most recent moment was one that Lucy instantly knew was very special. It was early evening, but still light out so the threat of any Visitors was little, and she and Lockwood were out together walking through the streets of Marylebone, just enjoying each other’s company. They had time to do that now, and they took advantage of it whenever they could.
Sometimes, Lockwood and Lucy would stop at the Marylebone Cemetery before walking the rest of the way home. This was one of those times. As usual, Lockwood didn’t have to ask out loud. He just squeezed her hand as they reached the spot on the wall where they could get in, and she just nodded, letting him know it was okay. They stayed silent as they climbed over the wall and as they made their way through the cemetery, the path now familiar to Lucy with all of the brambles and ivy, the whole space crowded with headstones.
Once they made it to the Lockwood family plot and took their usual seat atop old Derek’s marker, Lucy waited. Sometimes Lockwood talked, sometimes he didn’t. She couldn’t quite tell what his mood was this evening, or if anything specific had prompted the visit, but it didn’t matter. She rested her head on his shoulder and slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together.
“We should bring something with us one of these times, don’t you think?” he asked. “Maybe some flowers?”
Lucy nodded. “That would be nice.”
“We could bring some lavender for Jessica,” he said, “and Mum always liked peonies. I don’t know about Dad, though. I guess he’ll just have to deal with the peonies.”
“We’ll buy some tomorrow,” she told him. “But we’ll buy some seeds, too, and grow our own in the garden.”
She lifted her head and planted a kiss on Lockwood’s cheek. He smiled, absentmindedly picking a dandelion from the ground. He puffed out his cheeks and blew, scattering the seeds, which were then blown back into his face by a breeze. He laughed lightly, saying something about it tickling.
That’s the laugh , she thought to herself. That was the one laugh she wanted to remember for the rest of time above all others, the one where he was laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world, even after everything. She often tried to keep her emotions in check when they were at the cemetery, feeling like this was the place Lockwood needed to lean on her the most. She decided not to hide it this time, though. She scooted even closer, wrapping her arms around him to hold him tight.
“Luce?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “What is it?”
Lucy looked up at him, her heart swelling with emotion. You deserve all good things , she thought. “I love you. And I think I could listen to you laugh forever.”
The honesty of her words didn’t scare her like it would have just a few years ago. She didn’t feel vulnerable. She felt loved.
Not to be upstaged, Lockwood took her face in his hands and kissed like he had never kissed her before. “I love you too,” he told her. “I think I’ve loved you for a very long time, Lucy. I just didn’t know it right away.”
She couldn’t think of anything to do but smile and kiss him again, so she did.
They sat there for a little while longer as darkness started to fall. Lockwood stood up first, reaching a hand out to help Lucy up.
“Ready?” he asked.
She took his hand. “Of course.”
She always would be, as long as she was with Lockwood.