Chapter Text
“It’s enough,” I said. “I put all your lives at risk, not once but several times. One way or another, I’m becoming a liability to the company, and I care too much about you all to let that happen again.” It was super-hard to smile then, and it wasn’t going to get any easier. So I just got on with it. “And that’s why I’ve made up my mind the way I have,” I said, “and why I’m resigning at once from Lockwood and Co.”
——
Following the announcement of my decision to leave Lockwood & Co. the small kitchen was filled with silence. The previous jovial mood had evaporated, leaving an awkward heaviness behind. Without warning, Lockwood stood up from his chair and stormed out the kitchen door and I could hear his footsteps thudding through the house followed by the sharp click of his bedroom door closing.
George, Holly, and I still sat around the table, “Please tell me you’re joking Luce,” George said, looking at me beseechingly. “I don’t know what we’ll do without you. I don’t know what he’ll do without you.” He motioned towards the still-open kitchen door.
“Don’t be silly George,” I said, forcing a smile, “You and Lockwood managed just fine before I came around, and now you’ve got Holly to help too. I’m not safe to be around right now, and it wouldn’t be fair to you all.”
“Lucy, really, if there’s anything I’ve done-” Holly started, but I interrupted her.
“No, Holly, I promise I am not leaving because of you. Honestly, if I was I would have left back when you first arrived months ago. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but in the nicest way this has absolutely nothing to do with you.”
Footsteps once again thudded on the stairs and Lockwood suddenly rematerialized in the kitchen door coat in hand. “Lucy,” he said with a smile that lacked all of its usual glow, “It’s a lovely day out. Grab your coat, let’s take a walk.”
——
We meandered through the park side by side in silence. To an outside observer, we could simply be two friends out for a stroll in the early afternoon, but to us the tension was palpable. Lockwood had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his signature long coat, eyes straight ahead. I knew he would not be forced to talk before he was good and ready, and I’d already said my piece, so there was nothing for it but to await the inevitable explosion.
Lockwood was right, the weather was wonderful. It was brisk, but sunny, and a gentle breeze sent the fallen leaves skittering across the paved path. It seemed unfortunate to spoil such a lovely day, but it was something I knew had to be done.
We’d walked nearly half a mile across the park before Lockwood finally spoke, “I really think you’re making the wrong decision here, Lucy.” He said gently.
“Lockwood-” I began, but he interrupted
“No, no, give me a moment,” he said with a wave of his hand, “I don’t know what exactly happened underneath Aickmere's, but clearly something did, because you’ve been acting strange ever since. I could help if you’d just tell me what's wrong.”
I saw you. I saw you lying dead on the ground with a gaping hole in your chest and it was all my fault. I thought, but how to explain it to Lockwood? How could I make him understand?
If I told him about the Fetch he’d simply brush it off, call the vision nothing more than a trick of a malicious spirit. Maybe it was, but I couldn’t escape the Fetch’s dark warning still ringing in my ears: “ I am what is to come .” it said, “ I show you the future. This is your doing .”
Lockwood himself had practically confirmed the prophecy a few moments later. “ You know I’d die for you .” he’d said, his tone so light it could have been a joke, but I knew Lockwood. Behind his bright smile and simple words was a solemn promise that he’d protect me as he had from the moment I set foot in 35 Portland Row. And it was a promise I knew would lead him to an early grave if I didn’t do something to stop it.
“Lockwood, it’s like I said, I’m dangerous to be around. The ghosts are the ones in control of my Listening right now, not me. I’d be putting you all in danger every time we took a job.” I told him.
“Then let us help you Lucy!” He said, exasperated, “We’ll take small jobs, let you get your confidence back, help you figure out how to control your abilities. We’re a team, we can work through this together, but not if you leave because of some rash decision.”
“And how would we support ourselves in the meantime?” I countered, “You know we need the money and press from larger cases.”
“And besides, what's to stop you from abandoning the small-time cases the second an interesting client comes along? Lockwood I know you, you can’t honestly expect me to believe you’d turn down a potential front-page headline for a shade in some old woman’s attic?”
“Well it would just be for a little,” Lockwood hedged, “We could take on smaller cases until you feel ready for the bigger ones.”
“And what if I’m never ready? What if it's months before I feel like I can handle a bigger case?” I asked. “What if we take something on and it turns out to be something bigger. Christ, the Annabel Ward case was supposed to be a simple old man who’d fallen down the stairs! What if we’re unprepared, caught off guard, and something happens?”
“We’ll be careful Luce, I promise.” Lockwood flashed me a signature grin.
“When has careful ever done us any good! Even when we take the time to research and plan, half the time the plan goes to shite anyways and we’re left trying to fight our way out of a mess!” I exclaimed.
“And we always manage to fight our way out. It’s what we do.” Lockwood said confidently. “We always make it out together.”
“That’s no guarantee and you know it, Lockwood.” I said quietly. “What about Norrie, and Paul, and Alphie, and Joy, and Steph? What about poor old Ned Shaw? Hell, what about Jessica, Lockwood? They all made it out too, until the day they didn’t. I’ve seen too many people I care about die, I know you have too, so I need you to understand me when I say I can’t be the cause of any more.”
We walked silently after that. It was a low blow, bringing Jessica into all of this, but I had to find some way to make him understand. To make him see that I was doing this for his own good. I glanced at Lockwood from the corner of my eye. The late afternoon light was falling gently across his face, the same wind that blew my unruly hair into my mouth somehow managed to gently brush his dark hair off his face. He looked so young and full of life, despite the set of his jaw and lingering dark smudges under his eyes from our late nights. Such a stark contrast to the bloody and pale face I saw every time I closed my eyes.
Eventually we made our way out of the park into a shopping district and Lockwood led us to a small café with a little patio out front. The afternoon shadows were growing long, but it was not yet so dark that we’d risk running into visitors on our way back. I sat across from Lockwood at a little round table and we both ordered teas. It occurred to me that we’d never actually finished the grand we had prepared–George’s chocolate fudge cake hadn’t even been cut yet–but I didn’t feel all that hungry. Lockwood didn’t speak again until we’d both received our teas.
“Lucy, I really don’t understand your reasoning here.” Lockwood stirred a small scoop of sugar into his tea but made no move to drink it. “I think you’re being irrational. Putting fears aside, what makes you think we’d actually be safer without you and your talent? You're an incredible asset–you know I mean that in a complement-y way–think of how many cases where we wouldn’t have made it out if not for your incredible listening.”
I had no real defense against that, so he continued on, emboldened.
“Beyond your skills, you’re such an important part of the Agency. You talk about not wanting to lose the people you care about, but what about us, Luce? You're like family to George and me. Portland Row is just as much your home as it is mine. You can’t expect us to let you go just like that.”
I could hear the desperation in his voice and it broke my heart. It was true, the cluttered little house with Lockwood, George, and even Holly had become my home and family. The thought of leaving them was terrible, but not nearly as unbearable as one of them, of Lockwood, dying because of me.
Lockwood shook his head. “Seriously, where would you even go? Your relatives are all up North and I don’t see you wanting to go back again anytime soon.”
Lockwood watched me, frowning. I wasn’t sure where I’d go yet, and I didn’t want to tell him that so I took a sip of my tea and grimaced upon finding it had already gone cold. I waved over the waitress and ordered another cup. Lockwood did the same without turning his head from me.
“I’ll find an apartment.” I absently stirred my new cup of tea, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze. Lockwood didn’t touch his steaming cup.
“And how would you afford an apartment?” He stiffened, “ Please don’t tell me you’re going to work for Fittes. Or Rotwell.”
“No! No, I am not leaving you all to go work for Fittes. I’ve told you before I have no intention of ever working for them.” I huffed, “Actually I was thinking of working as a freelance agent.”
I hadn’t actually known I was planning to do that, but now that I’d said it, it made sense. I could work on my own hours, practice my Talent, and most importantly avoid crossing paths with Lockwood & Co. Yes, Freelance work would suit me nicely I decided.
“Luce, are you insane!” He was getting mad now, “How on earth is working as a Freelance Agent safer ! Do you even know the mortality rate for Freelance agents?”
I stared at him. “It’s high , Lucy. Very high.” He said when I didn’t respond. “There’s a reason agents work in teams. You talk about wanting to keep the rest of us safe, but who would be taking care of you? Who would watch your back if I’m not there? Or George or Holly.” he added. “You need us just as much as we need you!”
I think back to just a few weeks ago when I desperately wanted to hear those words. To hear Lockwood say he needed me, trusted me. Now they just felt like a knife to the chest. I did need them, but I also needed to do this. It was the right thing to do.
I had to keep telling myself I was doing the right thing as Lockwood and I continued to go back and forth about my leaving. Our arguments became louder and more passionate as we went on, only interrupted by the waitress bringing a third cup of tea despite the fact that neither of us had touched our first or second. I felt terrible the whole time. Lockwood has already lost so much, and here I was making myself another name on that list. That was the problem with us. We’d both lost too many people to be willing to let another go without a fight. Unfortunately for Lockwood there was nothing he could do to stop me leaving, despite his best arguments otherwise. I could see him growing increasingly desperate as he came to the same realization.
“Damn it Lucy!” He finally said, standing up and banging his hands on the table in a rare display of passion. Cold tea sloshed over the edges of the full cups that littered our table. Curfew was fast approaching and we’d have to leave soon. “We can’t do this without you! Can’t you see that!”
“And you won’t be safe doing it with me either!” I exclaimed, standing up as well.
“You’re going to get yourself killed working as a freelancer! I don’t want to be reading the papers one day and find your obituary written by some strangers who won’t even know you! What, do you have a death wish or something?”
“Oh, that is rich coming from you!” I said before I could stop myself, “You’re the one always running off with some half-cocked hairbrained plan that’s sure to get you and the rest of us killed! You’d be dead a thousand times over if not for George and me!”
“Then stay! If I’m dead without you and dead with you then why don’t you just stay!” We were shouting now, probably creating a scene in front of the other patrons at the little café but I couldn’t bring myself to care.”
“Lockwood. I am leaving. That is that.” I said with an air of finality.
“Do I–we really mean so little to you?” Lockwood asked, his voice still raised.
“You mean everything to me! That’s why I have to go. Why can’t you understand that.” I wondered if we were still talking about Lockwood & Co. or just Lockwood.
We stood there for a moment, breathing hard. Our faces were as level as they could be with Lockwood’s not insignificant height. We were only inches apart and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my already flushed cheeks. The street around us was quiet, most other shoppers having made their way home to escape the rapidly approaching night. The street was probably safe enough with the running water in the drains, but one could never be too careful. On the surface, Lockwood looked angry, but looking into his eyes I could see a deep sadness replacing the usual brightness. I felt tears welling up in my own eyes in response.
Lockwood moved first. Without warning he reached into his pocket and flung several pounds onto the table, turned on his heel, and stalked off into the gathering darkness. I stood there, alone, long after the retreating silhouette of his long black coat disappeared.