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Lucy’s penmanship has never been easy to decipher. Lockwood had joked about it once, early in her employment at Lockwood and Co., when he was trying to read her research for a case. She had called him an elitist and stuck her tongue out in mockery.
So, Lockwood made it a point to learn it. He studied her messages on the Thinking Cloth and even her case notes; anything that showed him the way she traced her A’s and dotted her I’s. it became a pastime. He was self-aware enough to know understanding her handwriting was just another step in getting to know everything about her. He was enthralled and all he could do was dig himself deeper.
Lockwood had proudly shown her. “Here,” he had said handing her his notebook. They were alone in the library; him reading his rags, her sketching. “Write something and make it illegible. I want to show you something.”
“I thought all my writing was illegible,” Lucy had teased back, but had grabbed the pen and notebook to write something down.
As she gave him the notebook back, there was an impish smile on her face. Lockwood had felt himself blush. Her fingers had lingered on his, sending a jolt of heat up his arm. He had made a big show of opening it, just to let out a laugh. There on the first page, she had written: Property of Anthony J. Lockwood. Agency Head, Prick-in-Chief. If lost, please return to Lockwood & Co. at 35 Portland Row, London.
He read it out loud, proud of himself for understanding every letter. “Should I get new cards with these titles?”
“Oh,” Lucy had replied going back to her sketching. “No need, I will let everyone know for you.”
Later, he will wish he had never learned to understand her chaotic scrawl.
Lockwood and Kipps didn’t finish last night’s job until almost six in the morning, choosing then to go to the furnaces and get breakfast before heading back to Portland Row. The breakfast had turned into a long catch up as they ran into some old Fittes agents.
By the time he gets back home, it’s nearing eleven. Lucy is still asleep on their bed, so he carefully grabs his clothes. After a quick shower he heads down to the basement to work on case notes and spar with Floating Joe.
A ruffled Holly interrupts him a couple of hours later with a sandwich, a cup of tea, and instructions.
“Alright, today is the day.” She announces circling the room.
“What day?” He asks taking a sip of the tea.
“I’m organizing our files.” There’s a weird joy in her voice that should never be associated with organization. “George is at the Archives and has plans for later, Lucy and Kipps have a case, and you are here to help me!”
“Oh no. Don’t we have people to do the archiving?”
Holly, in a very unlike-Holly manner, rolls her eyes. Her friendship with Lucy is rubbing off on her. “I’m the people who do the archiving and you as agency head are going to help me.”
Lockwood has learned to pick his battles, so he decides to concede to Holly’s plan.
She instructs him to start bringing down the boxes that they’re storing in the loft. She will go through each of them and make piles for him to review and decide what can be archived, kept, or thrown away.
He stops by his room on the way up. Lucy is laying on her stomach on top of the covers reading a book. He leans over her to kiss her.
“Where have you been?” She asks setting her book down.
“Basement,” he answers and takes a seat next to her. Lucy moves to lay her head on his lap and he strokes her hair. He looks at her with something like adoration. “You were asleep when I came in this morning and then I went to the basement to work on notes and spar a bit. Now Holly roped me into helping her organize our files.”
“Why do you think I’m hiding here?”
“You’re smarter than me.”
“Don’t I know it,” she says and pulls his tie to bring his lips down to hers. “Go now, I need to rest before tonight’s job.”
“I could stay here instead. Wouldn’t you help me hide from Holly?”
“No, not really,” she says pushing him away. “Besides, you won’t nap and then I will have to stay up to entertain you.”
“I just like spending time with you, even if you snore.”
“I don’t snore. I’m a dainty, little lady with manners,” she replies sitting up. “Never has anyone in the story of the universe been so sweet and delicate as I.”
“No, you’re my strong, northern girl who snores.”
Lucy playfully slaps his arm and gives him a final kiss. “I’ll come up before leaving.”
It takes him and Holly hours to get all the boxes down in the basement. Kipps arrives around four to prepare for their case and Holly drags him into helping with the final boxes.
The loft became a second storage space after Lucy moved into Lockwood’s room a year ago. Not that she spent much time in the loft after they got together in the aftermath of the Fittes debacle, but a year ago he finally made space in his closet for her clothes and emptied the night table on the side she preferred. Above all, he made a place for Lucy in his life. He opened his heart and let her in and allowed her to see all of it. Lucy did the same for him.
Holly sends him on a last trip while she sorts through years of files in the basement. It’s definitely going to create work for a few days for her and until then the basement will be unusable, but she assures him that it will be worth it in the end.
Lockwood takes a look around the loft and it seems like he got everything. He feels sweaty and exhausted after being awake now for over twenty-four hours, but he’ll be able to sleep once everyone is out.
He checks the dresser and the chest of drawers and the only contents are some of his family’s things. No more case files here.
Lockwood decides to check under the bed and is puzzled by what he finds there. Lucy’s old olive green rucksack is hidden in a corner. She had needed a new one maybe five or six months ago after saying hers was damaged by ectoplasm. He remembers clearly because he bought her the new one as an early birthday present.
He lets his curiosity get the best of him and pulls the rucksack out, kneeling on the floor. There are some stains, but it seems to be in good enough condition. It’s heavy in his hands so he wonders what’s inside. The zipper is a bit frayed and he opens it carefully. He’s even more confused by Lucy’s clothes inside. Maybe these were things she meant to get rid of and forgot? But that doesn’t explain the lie about the rucksack being damaged. That’s when Lockwood sees the paper hidden between a slightly faded blue checked shirt and a pair of trousers. He unfolds it.
They say seek and you shall find, but Lockwood wasn’t seeking anything to begin with, except for some old case files. The letter, which is more of a note, is simple and straightforward. Her name signed at the bottom of the paper taunts him, her handwriting messier than usual. I have to leave. Please forgive me. It’s not your fault. Except, it does feel like his fault. It must be.
There’s an undercurrent of static buzzing around him and a dull ache developing behinds his eyes. Lockwood is paralyzed. He sits on the floor for what could be minutes or hours, but he feels like his body is sinking into the floors and becoming one with the house. As much as he rereads the letter, he still can’t comprehend the words.
The creak of the loft door alerts him of someone coming up, so he closes the rucksack and slides it under the bed. The note is pushed into his trouser pocket.
He can’t see who it is from his place by the bed, but they make themselves known quickly.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Lucy asks coming to kneel by him on the floor. Her hair is longer than usual, reaching her shoulders now. She keeps mentioning she needs to get a haircut, but never gets around to it. She’s wearing a blue jumper that used to be his and leggings, ready to go to work.
A callous and unkind part of him wants to confront her, wants to throw the note at her and tell her to leave already if that’s what she wants. But he can’t. His love for her has never been on the condition that she loves him back.
“Lockwood?” There’s concern in her voice as she gets closer to him and places a hand on his face. This is a gesture that he’s too familiar with. It’s how she grounds him when he’s panicking or when he wakes up from a nightmare. It’s one she reserves for when it’s just the two of them. It burns his skin. Lockwood realizes he’s been staring at her unmoving, so he chooses to ignore the note and deal with it when she leaves with Kipps.
He gives her a bright smile and kisses the palm of her hand. He hopes it’s enough to cover his panic.
“Nothing,” he finally answers her. “Came up here to get some files for Holly and got distracted. I know we have to keep everything per DEPRAC regulations, but one day we’ll have so many that we’re going to have to turn all the rooms into storage and sleep in the kitchen.”
She laughs and tells him she’s leaving and will see him in the morning. Her case with Kipps will be boring. They are tasked with spending the night at an old townhouse and make sure there are no Visitors in preparation for its sale.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asks him. Her genuine concern offends him. How can she ask that when she’s leaving him again?
“Just a headache.”
“Why don’t you take something and rest a bit? Are you about done with Holly?”
“Yes, I’ll do that.” They make their way down to the kitchen where they meet the rest of their team.
George is passing around cups of tea and Lucy hands Lockwood some paracetamol with his. He tries his best to smile at her like his chest doesn’t feel hollow and the note is not burning his skin through the pocket of his trousers.
One by one, the rest of the agency leaves; Lucy and Kipps together, Holly back home to her girlfriend, and George to see Flo.
He wonders if this is his fate, to be alone every night in a house too big for one and too full of ghosts. Lucy will be gone soon and the day their Talents fade George will leave for a job or school. That will be the last time someone else lives in the house. Perhaps has catastrophizing, he’s barely 19 years old after all, yet he cannot conceive having a stranger live there.
Sure, he’ll still have friends, he’s sure he’ll see Holly and George and Kipps, but 35 Portland Row will only have one resident left.
Lockwood decides to take his tea in the library. When him and Lucy started dating and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, George had drawn a map of the house with X’s over the rooms where they were forbidden from kissing. Lockwood had negotiated that the library should be a safe space for snogging since him and Lucy spent so much time there anyway. George had capitulated on the condition that they would at least close the door. That map was now pinned to the kitchen board. Lockwood ought to get rid of it.
The library is full of memories, both good and bad, but the good ones will dissipate and Lockwood will be left with nothing to remember. He sits on his armchair and doesn’t turn on the lights.
Lockwood wonders how she will do it this time. She left her mother’s house in the middle of the night. She left Lockwood and Co. early in the morning so no one could stop her after announcing it the day before. He’s not sure what he would prefer.
Maybe Lucy hasn’t left yet because she pities him. He’s barely a man with no one left. If that’s the case, he hopes he wakes up soon and she’s no longer there.
Deep down he knows it was only a matter of time before it was over. He’s always known, he just wasn’t ready to accept it. She’s always been too good for him. He must’ve fooled her somehow if she has stayed with him this long. Whatever reason she gives him for leaving this time, Lockwood knows it was his fault. He tried and failed. Maybe he’s just a rotten thing who doesn’t know how to love right. He will not beg her to stay this time.
The clock on the mantel shows that it’s close to midnight. He has a few hours until Lucy is back and he needs to start now if his plan is going to work. He won’t pack her things, that seems like an invasion of privacy and he’s already done plenty of that tonight, but he can make this easier for her and in turn for himself. He wishes his plan was based on selflessness, but he can’t. If he’s going to make it through this, then he needs to act fast.
Lockwood finishes his tea and leaves the cup on the coffee table before going down to the basement. Lucy’s desk is covered in sketchpads, notebooks, and trinkets she’s accumulated over the years. Will he need to hire a new Listener when she leaves? Last time he harboured the hope that she would come back, so he shut down any suggestions from Holly. This time it would be prudent to at least hold interviews.
He pulls the note from his pocket and rereads it. I have to leave. Please forgive me. It’s not your fault.
He makes his way to his personnel files and starts putting anything Lucy would need in a folder. He adds her grade certificates, NDAs they’ve had to sign, newspaper clippings he’s saved where she’s mentioned, even a reference letter he wrote for her when she applied to do some consulting work for DEPRAC. Maybe she’ll need a reference for housing as well, which brings him to the next part of his plan.
He sits at his desk and goes over the company’s financial statements. Business has been great for the past couple of years after the Fittes issue, so they’re no longer in the red. He’s managed to pay most of the mortgage on his parents’ house and save some money for the future. Him and Lucy had a conversation about finances when they officially moved in together. From that conversation knows Lucy has some savings, he just doesn’t know the amount.
Now he goes over his books and wonders how much he should pay her as severance. Technically, it wouldn’t apply since she would be quitting, but it feels wrong not to pay her for the way she has elevated the Lockwood name with her Talents. So, he writes down an arbitrary number, signs the cheque, and stuffs it an envelope.
This part of his plan complete, he goes back to their room. They have a few shared possessions. There’s a vase Holly gave them when Lucy moved in. She can take it if she wants. He guesses they’ll get rid of the Polaroids of them together that she’s glued to the mirror. She purchased new pillows and sheets; she can take those.
He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Lucy tries to return the sapphire necklace. He thinks of the way it sits on the hollow of her chest and how she fidgets with the gem sometimes when she’s thinking. On one hand, it was his mother’s and he doesn’t want to part with it. On the other, it’s still a sign of his feelings for Lucy, feelings that won’t change when she’s no longer with him. He doesn’t have the energy or will to decide.
Lockwood opens the closet and thinks of a day where it won’t be so evenly split between dark suits and blue tones. He debates pulling some of the things that Lucy is always stealing, but he figures she won’t want to take anything of his.
Lockwood goes back to the basement to grab an empty box and bring it back in the room. He puts the folder with her documents and the envelope with the cheque in it. He’ll let her decide what to do with the rest of her things. He lays on top of the duvet and rubs his face. After thirty-six hours awake, he feels drained.
He’s at peace, or at least as at peace as he’ll ever be without Lucy in his life, but he knows he’s making the right decision. He’s giving her an out, he’s helping her go without regrets.
He’ll stay away, he will promise not to ask their friends about her, he will make it a point to make himself scarce so she can visit. He’s not sure of what he did to make her change her mind about their relationship, but he will step aside. He will make it easy. He will honour her choice.
Lockwood dozes off and wakes up with a pounding headache. It's nearing six in the morning now and Lucy will be coming home. He sits at the foot of the bed.
Lockwood debates when he should do this. Should he wait until she’s slept? Should he give it a couple of days? Maybe he could put the note back and wait to see what happens. Maybe he can convince her to stay. Maybe Lucy will change her mind and the rucksack and the note will disappear, then he can pretend like he had no idea she was planning to leave. He doesn’t get to choose because in that moment Lucy opens the door to their room.
“Oh!” She’s startled. “What are you doing there?”
Then she notices his expression, eyes red and face ashen. “Lockwood, are you ok? Did your headache get worse? Should we go to A&E?” She’s come to kneel in front of him and tries to grasp his hands in hers. When he pulls back, she notices the box at his feet.
“What is this?”
“Some of your things. I…I packed all the documents you will need as well as a cheque. Please don’t think to give it back, it’s your fair share of the work you’ve done for Lockwood and Co.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t understand. Why would I need–“
He pulls the note from his pocket and hands it to her.
“Oh.”
“Lucy–“
“I can explain–“
“No,” he cuts her off. It’s now or never and he doesn’t have the energy or bravado to do this any other way. “I wasn’t trying to look through your things, but I did and I’m sorry. I don’t understand what–what happened and why you want to leave, but I won’t ask you to stay. It’s up to you–“
“You don’t understand–“
“Please stop interrupting me,” his voice is terse. “If you want to go, you should do it. I can–I can make things easier for both of us. This folder has all your personnel paperwork and you can add me as a reference for any jobs or anything. If you need to find somewhere to stay, I can ask Holly to help you. In the meantime, I will go stay in the loft, you keep the room. I will make sure we’re not scheduled on the same jobs if that makes it easier. You don’t have to sneak out in the middle of the night again, but I…I wouldn’t like to be here when you move out, so please if it’s not too much bother, let me know when you will. You can take anything you want. Anything that was ours. I don’t have a preference.”
The static buzz is back and making him dizzy. He’s still sitting, while Lucy is standing to his right. He’s not looking at her. He won’t be able to finish if he does.
“I will also ask you not to cut off the rest. Last time you left…it was difficult for George. And I bet this time it will also be for Holly and Kipps. Please continue being their friend. I promise I won’t ask them about you.”
Lockwood can do this. He can finish saying all he has to say and then leave her there in their–hers, his?–room. He only wishes he had grabbed some pyjamas before starting. Maybe she will give him a few minutes to pack some essentials to take to the loft.
“Lucy, I’m not sure of what I did. I know you wrote it wasn’t my fault, but it must be. You don’t have to tell me, I promise it’s fine,” he’s rambling like a boy, unsure in a way he hasn’t felt in years. “I–I love you. I’ve loved you for years, even before I realized it. And I hope one day you can forgive whatever it was I did to make you change your mind. For what is worth, I’m sorry and–I love you. I’m sorry.”
The silence engulfs them. The only indication that Lucy is still there is that he sees her boots in his periphery. He dares look up and meet her eyes. She’s crying and seems to have been for some time if the makeup on her cheeks is any indication. He wants to reach for her and tell her it’s fine, that he will always forgive her if she wants to come back, that 35 Portland Row will always be her home. He doesn’t allow himself to.
She doesn’t speak so he stands up to leave.
“Is this what you want?” Her voice is weak.
Lockwood sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. How can she think that? In what world wouldn’t he want to be by her side anymore? He tells her so.
She crosses her arms, her stance hardening. “Well, Lockwood, it seems like you’re just fine letting me go.”
“That’s not fair,” he stands up. “I’m trying to make this easier for both of us.”
“By letting me go.” It’s not a question. “Stop acting like this is for anyone’s benefit but your own.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He doesn’t want to raise his voice at Lucy. It’s a step he’s always taken since learning about her family’s treatment, but her words cut him. Mostly because she’s half right.
“You’re trying to protect yourself. All this,” she replies gesturing towards him. “I thought we were over this façade. You’re kicking me out before I have the chance to leave you.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was to make you happy so if I can’t, then you should go and I will not hold it against you. You already did once because you thought it was the best for me, so now I get to do what’s best for you.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” she huffs. “Lockwood sit down.”
“Lucy–“
“No, you spoke. Now it’s my turn.” She paces in front of him until she leans against the dresser, her eyes fixed on his.
“The rucksack and the letter,” she starts. “When I came back, when you asked me to return to the house and the agency, I was not in a good place, everything was so chaotic and at every point it felt like–like something bad was going to happen and it did. The other side, the Winkmans, Fittes. It was all too much.”
Her posture softens. Lockwood can empathize with that. He was always scared during those months, but trying to keep on a strong front for his friends.
“I decided I needed an emergency exit,” she goes to sit next to him with her hands on her knees. “First, I had a suitcase always packed. Those first few months together I was so happy. For once everything just…fit. Everything was in the right place. But I couldn’t dismiss the feeling that it would all come crashing down. So, I kept the suitcase.”
Knowing she’s always had a foot out the door hurts, but he doesn’t interrupt her.
“Then when you asked me to move into your room,” Lucy looks at him. “I took some of the things out of the suitcase and brought them with me. Once we were settled, I realized I didn’t need to keep it, but I couldn’t let it go, so I downsized to the rucksack. And the note…I knew you would blame yourself and here you are doing exactly that.”
He tries to hold her hand and she lets him.
“This house and you all are the only stability I’ve ever had. You know what it was like growing up.”
Lockwood nods because he knows. She’s confided about her parents and sisters to him late at night in the dark, like only there the memories won’t reach her.
“Why were you so quick to assume I was leaving you?”
Lockwood knows the answer because it’s been in the back of his mind since she moved back after her four months away. “I think I’ve always expected you to leave again.”
Lucy sighs. “Oh. I need you to trust me I won’t.”
“You have a bag ready to go at all times, Luce.”
“You can’t ask me to unpack it.” There’s desperation in her voice, the worry of someone who has lost her choice many times. Lockwood can live with this. He can choose to trust her and her love.
“I won’t,” he says letting go of her hand to reach for her face.
“Can you trust me if I promise you I will stay?”
Lockwood shakes his head. “Don’t promise me that.”
“But I will, Lockwood.”
“No, if you ever need to leave then you do,” he tells her pushing her hair behind her ear. He needs to tell her this for both their sakes. “If I make you unhappy or–or you simply don’t want to continue this. If tomorrow our Talents fade and you realize that you want to leave, then you do it. I love you too much to keep you here when you don’t want to be. And it will wreck me, but I will be ok knowing you’re happier somewhere else.”
Her hands reach for his to hold. “There’s not a place or situation in this world where I wouldn’t want you to be there with me. I wish you had just asked me about it instead of assuming.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Lucy reaches over to kiss his cheek and it’s a reassuring gesture. It says I’m here; it says I’m not leaving.
They stay like that for a while, letting the heaviness of the conversation weigh them down. They sit together in the morning silence, his hand in hers, and Lockwood knows they will be alright.