Chapter Text
All of Lucy’s regrets were catching up with her as she slowly wobbled down the aisle. She tried to focus on the instructions she had been given: smile wide, look at him lovingly, walk in time to the music. His choice of song, obviously. Step, tap, step, tap. He was staring at her with soft eyes, as if all his dreams were coming true. And maybe they were, she supposed. Maybe his dreams were just as twisted as his actions.
She knew this was wrong. She knew she should turn around and sprint out the door. But she couldn’t. He would catch her, and if he didn’t he would find her. She shuddered to think about what would happen to her if that happened.
None of this would have happened if she’d stayed at 35 Portland Row.
In a moment of weakness, several months ago, she’d run away from Lockwood & Co. She barely remembered why anymore, but in hindsight, it couldn’t have been that bad. She remembered Lockwood begging her for forgiveness, apologising profusely for something or other. Even George had, in his own George way, bluntly told her to ‘stop being a moron’. Her smile became genuine for a brief moment as she remembered it.
Her heart ached when she remembered what she had then. She really was an idiot and she told herself that every day. It weighed on her as she bore the brunt of his drunken violence. It made her believe the horrible things he said about her. It made her feel trapped in this loveless relationship. This relationship that she was being forced to commit to.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it was knowing what her life could have been. Knowing that she’d had the opportunity for a good and happy life at Portland Row and she’d thrown it all away. Having that little taste of happiness, that she hoped she’d never forget, was what ate her up inside. She would never have that again.
She’d tried to contact Lockwood and George, to no avail. Her letters never got a reply. She’d asked if she could go visit them, but even with a promise of return he didn’t let her. He would never let her talk to any other men without him being present and with his permission. The way he justified it to her convinced her at first. He was an enticing new start, an exciting next chapter now that her Talent was fading.
But then she started noticing the patterns. Similar words her mother and father had said to her when she was a child. The red flags built up and she’d tried to run away. Several times. But he was too smart, too prepared, always two steps ahead. He’d always patronisingly bring her back, sweet talking her to make her feel like she was overreacting.
She cried herself to sleep every night, mourning what she used to have, convinced that he was right, that no one wanted her. She had no family and no friends. Neither Lockwood or George had attempted to make any contact with her either. She’d hoped at first that they would come looking for her, or come visit her (knowing the address from her letters) but as the days dragged on and there was no sign of them, she came to the conclusion that they had moved on from her. Maybe they’d even replaced her. Maybe they’d replaced her with another girl who had also caught Lockwood’s attention and who was less difficult than she was.
She blinked a few times, to prevent tears from falling down her face, but also to bring her back to the present. People looked at her strangely and she realised she’d stuttered to a stop in the middle of the aisle. She plastered on a smile and continued as if nothing was wrong. She reached the front of the church and passed her bouquet of flowers to her only bridesmaid - one of his friends. He took her hands tightly in his. Too tightly - a warning. She tried not to wince from the pressure lingering bruises from broken fingers.
She remembered the way Lockwood used to hold her hands. He would grip her with just the right amount of strength, comforting and grounding her. She used to be able to feel his callouses from his rapier hand and the softness of his other hand. She missed his gentleness. She hadn’t been touched gently in such a long time.
Hey babe, he mouthed.
She fought back a grimace at the nickname. She hated it. He’d always called her that, right from the beginning, even after she’d asked him not to.
Ready? his lips read.
No, she wasn’t ready. She hadn’t been ready when they’d first kissed, or first had sex, or when they’d moved in together, and especially not when he did what he would have called the proposal.
She had woken up to him kissing her all over, a ring already on her finger, saying, “Let’s get married.”
She’d tried to argue with him, fight him, but in her weakened physical and mental state, she’d lost. She’d been dragged along to planning meetings, giving the illusion that she had a say in any of it.
“How traditional do you want the ceremony to be?” their officiant had said during one of their meetings.
“Pretty traditional,” he had said, looking at Lucy like this was something they’d agreed upon. “Traditional vows and all. Can’t be bothered with any of that sappy crap.”
This was something Lucy agreed with wholeheartedly. If she’d had to write her own vows pledging the rest of her life to this man, she would have thrown up.
The officiant scribbled in their notes. “Great. I suppose that means you’re also happy to leave in the bit about objection?”
Lucy stiffened, sure he would make the exception for it. But he just said, casual as ever, “Sure, it makes it a little thrilling, doesn’t it? The anticipation is fun.” He gave Lucy a subtle look that dared her to try.
And she did try. She looked for every opportunity she could to convince someone to object the wedding. She researched it herself, getting disheartened when she learned that the only way to legitimately object a wedding is on legal grounds. Still, in a last desperate attempt, she tried to write to Lockwood & Co. pleading them to save her. But she couldn’t send the letter, he wouldn’t let her, threatening to find and read it if she did.
So here she was, standing at the alter, in front of all his friends, about to marry him. She’d resigned herself to a life of misery. Perhaps one day she’d successfully run away. She seemed to be pretty good at it, running away being both one of the best decisions in her life and one of her biggest regrets. She tried to imagine it: being free in a few years time, away from him. But also away from everything she knew. What would she do? She would no longer be useful at any agencies, she’d have nowhere to stay, no money, qualifications. But maybe she’d have to be okay with that. Anything would be better than a wasted life with him.
The officiant started talking, but Lucy barely heard him. She concentrated on keeping up the ruse. It would be worse for her if she let on how she was really feeling in front of all these people. She stared into his eyes, seeing the triumph behind the false softness.
“If anyone has any reason to object this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Lucy held her breath, holding out any tendril of hope she had left. This was it. Her last lifeline. If no one spoke now, she would never escape. This would be the rest of her life.
He scanned the congregation, a lazy smile on his face, but a challenge in his eyes.
Each second dragged on like it was a million years. Her heart sank the longer the silence stretched, and she felt a prickle behind her eyes from disappointment.
“I object!”
A collective gasp sounded and everyone turned to the source of the exclamation. Lucy knees almost buckled in relief.
Because there stood Lockwood in his smart suit, coat hanging off his shoulders in classic Lockwood fashion. And he wasn’t alone. Next to him stood George, Flo, and Inspector Barnes. They each had a stony resolve on their face and hatred directed at the man Lucy was standing with.
She automatically moved to go to them, but he wouldn’t let go of her hands. He looked at her and then back at them, outraged.
“How dare you! How dare you disrespect me and my fiancée like this!” he spat. “Who even are you? Do you make a habit of crashing people’s weddings?”
“My name is Anthony bloody Lockwood and you will let go of her,” Lockwood seethed. “Right now.”
The officiant shifted uncomfortably. “On what grounds do you object to this union?”
George straightened at this. “This man is already married.”
A murmur broke out among the attendees. Lucy looked at the man in front of her in shock, watching as his face contorted in rage. But she also noticed traces of fear behind his eyes.
“What on earth are you talking about?!”
“We have the testimony of a woman, corroborated by her friends and family, saying that she married and never divorced this man,” Barnes explained. “We did some investigating and found a marriage certificate. This man is already married and is therefore conducting an illegal wedding ceremony.”
The officiant’s jaw dropped. Lucy pried her hands free and moved to join her friends, but he was too quick. He grabbed her arm, eyes vulnerable now.
“It’s not true!” he cried. “They have the wrong person, I’ve never been married before!” He turned to Lucy. “Please, babe, I can explain. I swear I’ve done nothing wrong, these people are crazy. We can postpone the wedding if you want, if you need some time. But these people don’t know what they’re talking about. Please stay with me.”
Lucy struggled to get out of his grip.
“No!” she screamed. “Let go of me!”
“Babe, no!”
“We also have evidence of domestic violence,” Barnes continued, his voice cutting through the chaos, “and other crimes committed by this man.”
“You have no such thing!” he cried.
Barnes approached him, grabbed his hand and let Lucy free. She ran straight to Lockwood, enveloping him in a strong hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck, tears finally overflowing. He held her back, firmly, rubbing her back comfortingly with one hand and tangling his other hand in her hair. George even held on to one of her hands on Lockwood’s back as extra support.
She could feel his fast heart beat, his breath on her neck, his soft comforting words and shushes. She inhaled his scent, the scent she had dreamt about and missed for so long. She creased the back of his coat in her fists, holding on for dear life.
Barnes arrested the man Lucy thought she’d be trapped with forever. He fought hard, but Barnes was too strong for him. Eventually he realised he was caught and went without further struggle, being driven away by Barnes’ partner. The congregation quietly filed out of the church after him.
“Are you okay, Luce?” Lockwood breathed shakily.
Lucy didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. She just let herself be comforted by the soothing gestures and smell of her best friends. They led her to Barnes’ car and helped her in, trying to shield her from prying public eyes with their bodies.
She didn’t let go of Lockwood, and he didn’t let go of her. They clung to each other silently as Barnes drove them back to Portland Row.