Chapter Text
The sun was just beginning to set as Lucy walked into the enormous mansion for this evening’s case. She had received a call from Rotwell’s the day before. One of their Listeners was sick and going to be out for the week, so this team needed help with a cluster haunting.
Five other agents from Rotwell’s were already waiting inside. She quickly nodded and said hello. Most of them were familiar from another job she’d done recently, but there was one agent she didn’t recognize.
“Lucy Carlyle?” he asked, smiling at her. He was tall, blonde, a couple years older than her if she had to guess.
“Yes, I’m Lucy,” she said, curiously. “Have we met?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I’ve seen you around before. I’m Tommy Bentley. You used to work at Lockwood & Co., right?”
She cleared her throat; even after a month away, it hadn’t gotten easier to answer these kinds of questions yet. “Oh, yes. I did. But I’m working as a freelance agent now.”
“Well,” he said, extending his hand. “Good to have you here tonight. Looks like it’s going to be a hell of a job.”
“Thanks,” she said, shaking his hand. She might have imagined it, but she thought she felt his fingers linger slightly on hers.
Tommy’s prediction wasn’t wrong. The haunting was quite complicated, and even after many hours, the team hadn’t been able to locate all the Sources in the sprawling mansion.
The supervisor from Rotwell’s eventually decided to split them up so they could cover more ground. He quickly assigned Lucy and Tommy together.
“With her Listening and your Sight, you should be a good pair,” he said. Lucy flinched and looked away. Something about that felt a little too similar to working with Lockwood.
However, she had to admit that Tommy was competent, and he seemed to respect her Talent. She had already experienced a mixed bag of reactions from other agents so far; some were innately distrustful of freelancers, but Tommy just seemed curious.
They ended up spending the next few hours sitting together in an iron circle in the ballroom where a Phantasm had been briefly spotted earlier in the night. Tommy asked her an endless stream of questions about her time as an agent, and he even shared his chocolate biscuits with her. When the apparition finally appeared, she was able to quickly locate the Source while he distracted the ghost.
All things considered, Tommy wasn’t a bad team member, even though the Skull seemed to take his presence as a personal affront. Tucked away in her backpack, it didn’t stop cheerfully detailing the many ways Lucy could kill Tommy and make it look like an accident.
“Just nudge him over the railing and say he tripped! Or lob him over the head with that candlestick and say it fell on him! Poison is also always a good option, if you happen to have any on hand.”
As dawn approached, the supervisor from Rotwell’s finally told them to wrap up the job. There were still more Sources to track down, but they needed to do more research and return in a few days.
As Lucy gathered her things to leave, Tommy jogged over to her.
“Hey, Lucy,” he said. “I was wondering if I could get your number. Maybe we could get coffee sometime?”
She looked up at him, puzzled. “To talk about the case?”
“Uh no, actually. That’s not exactly what I was thinking,” he replied, looking embarrassed.
It hit her like a wall of bricks, and now she was the one who felt embarrassed. “Oh. Coffee. Are you—are you trying to ask me out?” she blurted out.
“Smooth, Lucy, very smooth,” said the Skull.
“Yes?” Tommy said, with a small smile. “That’s what I was going for at least. Is it working?”
“Oh, this is just pathetic,” the Skull howled.
Lucy bit her lip, about to tell him no, when something in her shifted.
Tommy was attractive. He was tall and athletic with the kind of perfectly messy messy hair she knew would make most girls swoon. Begrudgingly, she had to admit that if she wasn’t pining for a certain someone, she would have noticed him much sooner. Most importantly, Tommy had been nothing but friendly and kind to her all evening.
“You know what—sure,” she replied, surprising even herself.
Tommy’s eyes lit up, and she noticed for the first time what an intense shade of blue they were. She pulled one of her freelance cards with her contact information out of her bag and handed it to him.
He carefully put the card in his pocket. “Actually,” he suggested. “Alternate idea: instead of coffee, what if we went for breakfast now instead? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Lucy hesitated. She was tired and a bit of a mess, but she did need to eat. “Okay. Why not? Lead the way.”
“Brilliant. I know just the place.”
“Lucy, I can’t believe you are willingly going to spend more time with this dimwit!” the Skull fumed.
She covertly reached into her backpack and turned off the valve on top of the jar. While she had to take the Skull along, this was one outing she did not want his commentary for.
Tommy led them to a small café, where they sat across from each other and ordered tea, toast, and eggs.
As she buttered her toast, she noted how Tommy took his tea: a single spoon of sugar and a tiny splash of milk.
“I have a confession,” he divulged, leaning forward.
“Confession?” Lucy asked, her interest piqued. Perhaps she was going to regret agreeing to his breakfast invitation after all.
“Yes, I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I saw you at the Fittes Ball last year,” he admitted, starting to blush. “You have quite the reputation, especially after the Chelsea outbreak. That’s why I spent all night trying to come up with excuses to talk to you.”
“Oh,” she said softly.
“Yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?” he said, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.
She shook her head slowly. “Actually… It's nice. It’s flattering,” she said, feeling her face flush.
He grinned at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks. She couldn’t help but give him a small smile back.
A good smile had always been one of her weaknesses after all.
Lucy stared at herself in the mirror, inspecting her outfit.
In the week since her breakfast with Tommy, they had worked together again on finishing up the mansion case, and then he’d asked if she wanted to go to dinner.
She was surprised to find how much she was cautiously looking forward to it. It had been lonely since leaving Portland Row, and at the very least, it was nice to have the prospect of a social outing.
Except she had absolutely nothing to wear, and most of her wardrobe was now strewn around her room.
Somehow half of her clothing had holes, rips, or stains—a hazard of being an agent without a uniform. The other half reminded her of memories she’d rather forget. She’d already discarded her first outfit because Lockwood had once complimented her jumper.
I just need some new memories, she decided. Then I’ll be able to move on.
“Luuuucyyyy,” the Skull called. “Why the fashion show today?”
“None of your business,” she said, distracted.
“What’s going on?” he said. “You never care this much about your appearance. Usually you just look like you rolled out of bed. Please don’t tell me you’re going to see him.”
“What do you have against him anyway?” She tugged at her blue skirt. “You barely even know Tommy.”
“TOMMY,” Skull screeched. “ Not that wet blanket again! We just got away from Lockwood. Please don’t tell me you’ve already found someone else to moon after.”
“This is why you aren’t invited,” Lucy huffed. She flipped the valve off on top of the silver jar, but she could still see his gruesome face continuing to yell.
“Enough,” she groaned. She sat down on her bed and put her head in her hands. Her mental state was fragile enough, even without the Skull’s constant reminders of Lockwood.
Who am I kidding with all of this? Lucy wondered bleakly. She still fell asleep almost every night wondering what Lockwood was doing and worrying if he was safe. She hadn’t moved on at all.
One hour into her dinner with Tommy, Lucy had to admit something shocking: the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him.
He was so open—she already felt like she knew so much about him.
She had learned that he still lived at home with his parents and ten year old twin brothers, but he planned to move into his own flat with a friend from Rotwell’s soon. “I could have moved out sooner,” Tommy shrugged. “But we’re a close family, and I wanted to be around for my brothers.” He spent ten minutes telling her stories about the mischief the twins had caused recently, making her laugh so hard her stomach ached.
“You’d love them, Lucy,” he insisted. “Perhaps you could come over for Sunday dinner sometime and meet them?”
She couldn’t hold back her shock at the invitation to meet his family. “Maybe,” she stammered, keeping her answer noncommittal.
Tommy had been with Rotwell’s for six years, gradually working his way up the ranks. After his Talent faded, he was hoping to help his father manage a local grocery. “It’s a bit of a family tradition,” he said. “My Grandad started it up before the Problem.” Part of her felt envious of him; somehow it seemed like he had everything figured out while she was floundering.
But Tommy didn’t just talk about himself. He continued asking her questions about her life; it truly felt like he was invested in getting to know her. She kept her answers vague on certain subjects—her family, what had happened at Jacob’s, why she left Lockwood and Co. She wasn’t ready to be quite as open as Tommy.
Given her current mental state, she still wasn’t sure if she was ready to date at all. However, a distraction never hurt anyone, and Tommy was proving to be a good one.
As they left the restaurant, Tommy reached for her hand. She couldn’t help but remember the last time someone had held her hand—Lockwood, that night under Aickmere’s. It had been weeks since anyone had touched her, and she suddenly felt the weight of that slide away. It was nice to be around someone caring again.
Tommy walked her back to her building, chatting all the while, and then they stood awkwardly at the entrance. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he said, still holding her hand.
“Me too,” Lucy found herself agreeing.
He glanced at her lips, and her eyes flicked up to his. “Lucy, can I…”
“Yes,” she nodded.
At this point, Lucy wasn’t even surprised to find that Tommy was a good kisser. While she wasn’t exactly inexperienced in this area, she had to admit that it was probably the best first kiss she’d ever had.
He smiled at her again as he pulled away. “So, Lucy Carlyle, can I see you again sometime soon?”
Yes,” she said slowly. “I think so.”
Before she knew it, Lucy fell into a comfortable rhythm with Tommy. Since they were both agents, they had similar schedules, so it was convenient to spend time together. Sometimes they would meet up for coffee or dinner or they’d go for walks in the park. It was nice to have someone else to talk to, especially someone who understood her life as an agent. He was easy to be around and always made her laugh.
Mostly, Lucy was surprised how much fun it was—and fun was something that had been noticeably absent in her life ever since leaving Portland Row.
The skull continued to moan and mope every time Lucy left to see Tommy. “He’s a loser, Lucy. It is outrageous that you prefer his inane presence to mine. At least that idiot Lockwood was occasionally interesting.”
“Since you’re a malevolent skull in a jar, I’m sure you’ll understand if I ignore your relationship advice,” Lucy replied icily.
Lucy was shocked the first time Tommy called her his girlfriend, but it rolled off his tongue so easily, she couldn’t help but feel pleased. She told him she wanted to take things slow, alluding to some complicated situations in her past, and he was supportive.
“We all have our things to deal with, Lucy,” he shrugged. “I just like spending time with you and want to see where this goes.”
It was flattering to be wanted. Lucy had never had a relationship like this before. Could it really be this easy? she wondered. It wasn’t like she’d imagined, but maybe that was a good thing. She needed something new and different.
Tommy didn’t need to know that she was still having nightmares about Lockwood dying for her. And if her dreams occasionally veered into more pleasant, less innocent subject matter—well, he really didn’t need to know that.
One evening when they both had the night off, Lucy met Tommy at a local bar for agents, The Ghost & Ghoul, to say hello to a few of his friends. While they were friendly, she felt a bit jumpy and out of place. She kept looking over her shoulder, wondering who else might be at the bar.
Her intuition was correct, and soon enough, Quill Kipps was strolling over to her.
“Carlyle,” Kipps said, nodding to her. “Surprised to see you here.”
“Kipps,” she responded shortly, desperately looking for a way out of the conversation. Unfortunately, Tommy didn’t pick up on the awkwardness.
“Hi, I’m Tommy Bentley, Lucy’s boyfriend,” he said, putting his arm around her. “And you are?”
Kipp’s eyes widened slightly at the word boyfriend, and Lucy felt her face flush. “Quill Kipps. Interesting. Carlyle, what else have you been up to since you left Lockwood & Co.? Still talk to Tony and the rest of them?”
“Not recently,” she deflected. “Actually, Kipps, we really need to be going,” she said, taking Tommy’s hand and pulling him back towards his friends.
Tommy looked at her curiously. “What’s going on, Lucy?”
“He’s just a prick,” she mumbled. “He asked me out once, and I turned him down. Do you mind getting me another drink?”
At the end of the evening, Tommy walked her back to her apartment and kissed her goodbye at the front door. “Are you sure everything’s okay, Lucy?” he asked, his arms wrapped around her.
She felt her face getting warm, and she made an impulsive decision. She really didn’t want to be alone right now. “Would you like to—” She cleared her throat. “Would you like to come upstairs for a bit?”
“Yes,” he said, a question in his eyes. “If that’s what you want?”
“Of course. I’ll just warn you, it’s not very fancy.”
She knew the Skull was still tucked away in her backpack from when she’d left in a hurry earlier so there was no danger of Tommy seeing it; she was pretty sure trying to explain a stolen Type Three ghost in a jar would kill the mood.
Tommy followed her up to her flat, and once the door was closed, she kissed him and pulled him over to her bed. Soon they both were laying down, their kissing growing more heated.
Lucy let the feelings and sensations sweep her away. Her mind was going hazy, all thoughts of anything but Tommy fading.
His hand slid under her jumper, running up and down her back. Then, just as she’d moved to pull her jumper off, he said the words that stopped her in her tracks.
“Luce, are you sure you’re okay? Something’s felt a bit off with you tonight.”
Luce.
At that single word, something in her broke. She froze immediately and felt herself instinctively pull away from Tommy.
It felt wrong now, hearing someone who wasn’t Lockwood call her that name. Everything about this moment suddenly felt wrong. She found herself missing Lockwood fiercely—more than she had let herself in weeks—and she felt her throat get tight.
“Please,” she said roughly. “Don’t call me that.”
Tommy looked at her with concern, but nodded slowly, not pushing the issue. She whispered a soft “Thanks” and then closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.
She finally managed to force out an explanation. “Someone else—someone else used to call me that name. I don’t really like thinking about them.”
Tommy nodded again. “Another boy?” he ventured a guess.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I just… I just want to be here with you right now. I don’t want to think about anyone—about anything else.”
“Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” He still looked apprehensive, but he leaned in to kiss her again. She kissed him back, desperately wishing it would distract her from her now racing thoughts.
But it must have been obvious that her heart wasn’t in it. After a minute Tommy pulled away and gently untangled himself from her. “Are you positive you don’t want to talk about whatever is going on, Lucy?” he asked. Quickly, she shook her head.
“Okay,” he said, resting his hand on her face. “Regardless, it seems like you need some rest. I’ll leave and let you go to sleep.”
She found she couldn’t argue with him. “Okay,” she agreed quietly.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” She nodded, and Tommy brushed a final kiss across her forehead before heading out the door.
Then, she was alone again. And now she just felt hollow.
What is wrong with me, she thought, pulling the blankets over her head and pressing her fists against her eyes. For the first time in her life, she had a chance at a real relationship with a nice boy, and now she was sabotaging it.
A sob broke out of her. She knew exactly what was wrong. She desperately wished that Tommy was Lockwood. If she was honest, it wasn’t the first time she’d entertained such thoughts either.
Lucy spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, her mind tormenting her with strange dreams that blurred from Tommy to recent hauntings to Lockwood.
Finally, she dragged herself out of bed. She had another freelance job later this evening with a team from Tendy, and if she didn’t get up now to restock her supplies, she was going to be late.
As she was rushing, she stubbed her toe on something hard in her backpack.
Oh shit, she realized. Skull. Skull had been in her backpack all night, including the entire time Tommy was here. Ugh.
The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was his sure to be horrific opinions about Tommy, but she needed to take him along on tonight’s case. It was better to deal with it here, rather than in the middle of a dangerous haunting.
She sat the Skull back on her table, screwed up her courage, and flipped open the valve.
“Well, Lucy, you have been getting up to some mischief haven’t you? Tell me everything!” Skull said gleefully.
“I’m not telling you anything,” she snapped.
“Oh testy, isn’t she? Probably for the best. I know Tommy was here! If you ask me, I still think you should poison him.”
Lucy scowled. “This is exactly why I didn’t ask you. I don’t know what you have against Tommy. He’s very nice.”
The Skull made a gagging noise. “Ugh. ‘Nice.’ Well, he doesn’t really seem your type then, does he? ”
She rolled her eyes. “And what do you know about my type?”
“You don’t want ‘nice’,” the Skull said dismissively. “You want arrogant, tortured, reckless. Tommy’s just pathetic. At least Lockwood had style.”
She crossed her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please. I know. I can tell you’ve been crying.”
Lucy scowled. “I’d really rather not talk about that. And unless you’d like me to drop you in the middle of the Thames, I’d suggest that you don’t bring it up again either.”
“Ooooh, someone is in a mood today.”
“Yes,” she said grimly. “Yes, I am.”
Although Lucy’s nightmares had improved recently, they suddenly became much, much worse. Almost every time she slept, she woke up in a cold sweat with her heart racing after being confronted with increasingly gruesome images of Lockwood’s death.
She spent hours staring at her discolored ceiling, before resigning herself to making cups of tea and staring out the window aimlessly.
She also started avoiding Tommy. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off—and that it had been for a long time. Maybe since the beginning.
She kept flashing back to the moment Tommy had called her Luce and how fiercely she had missed Lockwood. In her most carefully hidden fantasies, it was always Lockwood introducing himself as her boyfriend, taking her on dates, and sleeping in her bed.
Finally, after a week of making excuses, she decided enough was enough and agreed to meet Tommy for coffee.
Instead of the thoughtful speech she had rehearsed, as soon as they sat down, she found herself blurting out that she couldn’t keep seeing him.
Tommy stared down at his tea. “I knew something was off the other night. Lucy, did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she insisted. She reached out and squeezed his hand.
“You are perfectly lovely. It’s just... I’m not in a good place, Tommy,” she admitted. “I know I told you that things are a bit complicated for me right now, and I’ve realized I need to figure things out on my own. It’s not fair to you to keep this going when I’m not as invested.”
“I should have known,” he said. “It’s Lockwood, isn’t it? Are you getting back with him?” There was a twisted, sad smile on his face.
“No, of course not!” she said. “Like I told you, I was never with Lockwood. I haven’t even spoken to him in months.”
“Lucy,” Tommy said, shifting in his seat. “I don’t know if I believe you. There was clearly something between you two. He’s the one you were talking about the other night—the one who used to call you Luce—isn’t he?”
She could feel her cheeks going red, but she knew Tommy deserved her honesty. She gave him a small nod.
“But—” she hurried to reassure him. “I promise it wasn’t like that. I’ll admit that my feelings for Lockwood are… complicated,” she allowed. “But we were never involved romantically.”
“Then why did you leave? It seems like you loved working there.”
“It’s… complicated,” she sighed. That word again. She searched for a way to make Tommy understand.
“Lockwood is a bit reckless, and the longer we worked together, he became more and more protective of me. It got to the point where I was afraid he’d do something stupid on my behalf and end up hurt… or worse.” She twisted her fingers together, feeling oddly relieved to have her fears out in the open after months of keeping them to herself.
“Lucy, I’m not a genius, but that doesn’t sound like he just cared about you as a colleague. I never told you this, but that night I first saw you at the Fittes Ball, I assumed the two of you were together. The way he looked at you… I mean, it was obvious that he was jealous every time any other guy even got near you. That’s why I didn’t come up and talk to you then.”
“Trust me, that’s not what it was. That’s just how Lockwood is. You must have misunderstood,” she insisted.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Did I? Haven’t you heard the gossip? Before you came to London, there were always of rumors about Lockwood and a whole group of girls. And then all of that stopped when you showed up. It was very clear that you were off limits. Everyone thought you were together.”
Lucy flushed awkwardly. “I didn’t know that,” she admitted. Was she really that oblivious?
Tommy leaned forward. “Look, Lucy, I like you—a lot. But I think you’re right that there’s something you need to figure out here. And I’m not going to wait around in the meantime.”
“Of course,” she said. “I don’t expect that of you. I hope we can still be friends.”
“Yeah,” he said, standing up from his chair and leaving his unfinished tea behind. He gave her another sad smile. “Maybe someday.”
After her conversation with Tommy, Lucy was in desperate need of a distraction, so she threw herself back into her work, going out on cases almost every night. She kept to herself and went back to her solitary routine, refusing to get too friendly with other agents.
Occasionally, she found herself missing Tommy, his easy laugh, his steady presence. It had been nice not to feel so lonely, but she was better off on her own.
The Skull was predictably delighted Tommy was gone. “It’s just you and me again!” he exclaimed gleefully, once he finally dragged the truth out of her.
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yep,” she said. “Just me and my pet Skull.”
“Pet!” he cried, aghast. “How dare you — I am a rare Type Three ghost, and I honor you with my presence!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lucy said, throwing herself onto her bed and staring at the wall.
In her vulnerable state, she let herself fully indulge her longing for Lockwood. She might not be able to see him, but she could at least think about him. She still worried about his safety, and she wondered how he was getting along with Holly and George. Had his hair gotten longer? What if he’d started to wear socks that weren’t pink? There was so much she’d probably already missed out on in his life.
At her lowest moments, she wondered if he ever thought about her, if he missed her a fraction as much as she missed him.
Then one day, like a figure from her dreams, Anthony Lockwood was standing at her front door.
After four months of longing for him, he was here—so close she could touch him.
It only took one glance at him and his too tight suit and his perfect hair and his hesitant smile, and Lucy knew. She knew that she’d been kidding herself to think that easy, uncomplicated Tommy could ever live up to this messy, complicated boy.
“Hello, Lucy,” Lockwood said.
I missed you, she wanted to say. Oh God, I missed you. I missed your smile and the way you look at me and how you hold my hand and even how reckless you are. I’m so scared—scared that no matter where I go, whoever else I meet, that for the rest of my life that they’ll never, ever compare to you.
“Hi,” she said weakly.