Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When the plan first occurred to him, it felt like a brilliant idea. Inspired even. A perfect way to check multiple boxes off his to do list in one go.  

But now, as Lockwood sat awkwardly across from Lucy in a cafe for the second time in less than four months, he was starting to wonder if he’d ever had a worse idea in his life. 

Hiring Holly without consulting Lucy first? Jumping into the Thames? Buying that God awful pinstriped suit when he was fourteen that made him look like a miniature mob boss? All those decisions paled in comparison to this.

So far, he and Lucy had exchanged pleasantries and made small talk about their respective work before ordering tea. She still took hers aggressively sweet—a fact he found oddly comforting. 

“So, what’s this about, Lockwood, since you were so vague on the phone?” Lucy said briskly, not quite meeting his eyes as she stirred another spoonful of sugar into her cup. 

Two days prior, they’d had a stilted conversation on the phone where, after much cajoling on his part, Lucy had reluctantly agreed to meet him for coffee. But even if she left today without entertaining his proposition, at least he'd gotten to see her. 

Wearing her usual uniform of a jumper, skirt, and boots, she looked exactly both the same and somehow entirely different than she had the last time he’d seen her. Her hair was slightly longer than her usual short bob; if he wasn’t mistaken, she was probably due for a haircut soon. Lockwood found himself wondering if Lucy’s eyes had always been that particular shade of hazel or if her jumper was new. He felt like he was trying to memorize her, storing away greedy glimpses of her after months of feeling like he was missing a limb without her at his side. 

Lockwood put down his tea. “I’ll get straight to the point, Lucy. I’m planning to attend the new DEPRAC conference. I’m assuming you’ve heard about it?” 

“Yes, of course.” She seemed unsurprised that he would relish the opportunity to rub elbows with some of the most influential people in England. “What about it?” 

DEPRAC’s first ever “Fighting the Problem On All Fronts” conference had been the talk of the agency crowd for the past month. It was being held outside London the following weekend. All the major agencies were sending representatives, and swarms of agents would be in attendance for the education sessions that corresponded with new specialized DEPRAC certifications. There would also be a vendor hall, networking opportunities, and even a fancy ball one night. 

Lockwood took a deep breath. “I would very much like for you to accompany me.” 

She stared at him blankly. “What? Why me? We don’t work together any longer, Lockwood. Take George or Holly.” 

Lucy’s tone slipped into slightly frosty territory at Holly’s name, so Lockwood decided to address the inevitable. “Holly can’t go. She’s moving to a new flat that weekend with her girlfriend.” 

Lucy couldn't hide her look of shock; she’d never been known for her subtlety. “Oh. I didn’t know…” she said softly. 

“Yeah, relatively new relationship for her, but she seems quite happy. Anyway, her lease ends at the end of February, so she has to be in London that weekend.” 

“What about George then?”

He gave her a look that very clearly said, are you joking? “Come on—you know George. This isn’t academic enough for his taste. He told me he’d rather have his fingernails removed one by one than join me, and I’d prefer that he didn’t bleed all over my house.” 

That at least made Lucy crack a smile, and Lockwood took it as the encouragement he needed to forge on. “Frankly, I could use your help, Lucy. You’re a great agent. The best I’ve ever worked with in fact.” 

She flushed a little at the compliment. Another promising sign.

“There’s going to be a lot of new information and tactics related to field work that I’d love to get your opinion on. It would be helpful to have another set of eyes and ears at those sessions, and you know I trust you implicitly.” 

It was all true. Lucy was the best agent he’d ever worked with, and there wasn’t anyone else he’d trust in this situation over her. 

Of course, there were other benefits to Lucy’s company as well. Namely, that he would get to spend hours of uninterrupted time with her in a neutral place, and they could hopefully get to the bottom of whatever had gone wrong back in November. 

He didn’t need to say that part out loud though. 

Lucy shifted uncomfortably. “Lockwood, I don’t think this is a good idea. I have work to do here in London.” 

“That’s the thing though, Luce. Now that you’re a freelance agent, this is an excellent opportunity for you. Between the certifications they’re offering and the people you’d meet, you’ll be positively drowning in work by the end of the weekend.”

She groaned. “You know I hate networking and talking to fancy people.” 

“Yes, but may I remind you, I don’t. I can help you out. Put in a good word for you. Ensure you make the right contacts.” He resisted the urge to wink at her.

Lucy bit her lip, finally meeting his eyes, but she still seemed uncertain. Time for the next phase of his plan. 

“I know we didn’t end things on the best note, Lucy, but there’s no reason why we can’t still be friendly. I know you were concerned about your Talent being a risk, but this is a completely different situation.” He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the table. “We’re still a good team. This is a win for both of us, Luce.”

There was a long pause. “I guess you have a point,” she said finally. “I’d have to reschedule my cases.”

Lockwood triumphantly resisted the urge to smile, knowing that half the work was done. “You would—but the tradeoff would be worth it in the long term. You’d get more cases—better cases—and you’d be able to charge higher fees.” 

“It’s quite pricey though, isn’t it? The conference?” Lucy asked suddenly.

Lockwood nodded. The conference was outrageously expensive, unless you were attending with a group or had found some sort of loophole. But he was Anthony Lockwood; of course he had found a way to make this situation work for him. Now that Lucy had as good as agreed to accompany him, he just had to push his luck a tiny bit further. 

“It’s pricey, but not unmanageable,” he acknowledged. “But there’s one more thing you should be aware of, Luce.” 

She looked at him suspiciously. “What now?” 

This was when his plan got truly dicey, but it was a risk Lockwood was willing to take. 

“There’s a sizable discount for pairs that are attending the conference together. If we register together, it cuts the price in half, so there would be substantial savings for us both. And since you’d really be doing me a favor by acting as a freelance consultant of sorts for Lockwood & Co., I’d be happy to split the registration 70-30% with you.”

“Wait—” A look of trepidation slowly came over Lucy’s face. “Pairs? You mean couples,” she said flatly.

“Technically, you’re correct, but it’s not like they’re asking for proof of the relationship. Could be any two people that decide to attend together really.” 

“I don’t know, Lockwood,” she said, shifting in her seat. “This couple’s registration… it’s weird.” 

“Luce, we’ll just have to… pretend a bit, but I don’t think it will be difficult for us to manage.” 

“Why do you say that?” Lucy said, seemingly confused. 

Lockwood resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Did she really not know that half of London already thought they were dating? 

“It would really be the bare minimum of effort. No one’s going to ask questions if we give off the general appearance of being” —of course, this was when his voice decided to betray him by cracking slightly— “together.” 

Lucy’s cheeks were turning pink, and she looked a bit like she was considering poking her eyes out when she finally said, “Let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to date you? For a conference discount?”

He stiffened. “I wasn’t going to put it that way, but I suppose that’s not untrue. I assure you that I won’t do anything untoward.”

“That’s hardly the problem with this situation.”

“So, what is the problem?” There was no doubt about it: this was the worst fucking idea he had ever had. Lockwood summoned up every ounce of charm he possessed to flash Lucy a reassuring smile. 

“If you don’t understand, I’m not sure I can explain it to you.” 

“Give it a try, Lucy.” 

Now she was blushing from her hairline all the way down to her neck. “It’s just—we—well, wouldn’t that be—” she sputtered before cutting herself off and staring at him helplessly.

“I know this is a little unorthodox. If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to register as a pair. It just seems a bit unnecessary for the two of us to pay for separate registrations when there’s an alternative solution…”  

Lucy glowered at him, seeing the reason in his words. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“We’ll both have our own rooms, of course. I already confirmed that it’s standard practice for all non-married couples.” 

“Let me think for a minute, Lockwood.” She stared off into space, and he resisted the urge to fidget. He’d said his piece, all he could do now was hope she’d come around.

Finally, Lucy sighed. “Against my better judgment, I’ll do it.”

Lockwood couldn’t help himself from grinning at her like an idiot. “Lucy, thank you. There’s no one else I would want at my side.” 

“Let’s see if you still feel that way after I’m done complaining about the networking.” She shouldered on. “We need some ground rules if we’re going to do this.” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“For this couple thing—”

“Pairs,” he helpfully supplied again.

“Whatever. You can touch me if you need to—I know it has to look like we’re dating—but no… no kissing,” Lucy blurted out, looking like she wanted to sink through the floor. She delivered the next sentence staring somewhere above his left eyebrow. “You know I haven’t kissed anyone, and I don’t want it to happen for the first time under false pretenses.” 

Lockwood reached for her hand resting on the table. “Is this okay?” They had held hands in the past, so hopefully this wasn’t crossing any lines.

She withdrew her hand but nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. And you can’t ask me to come back to the agency. This is just a one off for the conference.” 

They weren't the best possible terms, but he could work with them. “Done. Just business, that’s it. Do we need to sign a contract?” he asked crisply.

“Lockwood.” Lucy rolled her eyes. 

He scribbled down the details on the back of the conference flier and slid it across the table to her. “Here, Luce. It’s everything we’ve talked about.” 

DEPRAC Conference Contract:

1. Just business.
2. No talk of Lucy coming back to Lockwood & Co.
3. No kissing.

Lucy peered at the list, and he noticed that her face flushed again when she got to Rule #3. 

“Any additions?” he asked. 

She shook her head no. 

“Good,” Lockwood said, signing his name on the paper with a flourish and handing it to Lucy. “You can keep this. Let’s hammer out the rest of the details, shall we?” 

Later that afternoon, Lockwood dropped the conference registration form onto Holly’s desk as they worked to prepare for that evening’s case.

“Hey Holly, would you have a few minutes to send in my registration for the DEPRAC conference before we head out?”

“You’ve decided to go on your own after all?” she said, flipping through the paperwork.

“Er, not quite.” Lockwood scratched his nose. “Lucy will be attending with me.” 

The office was suddenly so quiet it could have been a funeral home. Lockwood let the moment stretch out, knowing that the brief peace would end entirely too soon. 

Right on cue, both George and Holly spoke at the same time.

“Well, that’s surprising—” Holly began.

“Lucy Carlyle?” George exclaimed, his mouth agog.

The two of them exchanged a look of dismay before turning to stare at him like he had just announced he planned to go live on the moon. 

Lockwood had originally intended for the three of them to attend the conference together. Then Holly had reminded him that she had requested the weekend off for her move and George had laughed in his face at the idea of attending. That left him with no option other than a single registration. 

But then, while flipping through the paperwork late one night earlier in the week, Lockwood had realized that there was also a couple’s registration. Suddenly, there was only one person he could imagine by his side. 

“Yes, Lucy Carlyle. Anything either of you want to share with the class?” he said wryly.

George raised his hand. “Many things in fact. Glad you asked. When did you even see Lucy?”

“This morning. We had coffee together, and she agreed to join me.” 

“Will Lucy be submitting her own registration then?” Holly asked. “The group discount only applies for members of the same agency.”

He cleared his throat. “There’s a second discount for pairs.”

A look of horror slowly swept over Holly’s face. “Lockwood, please tell me you didn’t. You don’t—you can’t mean the couples discount?”

“I don’t think it’s just for couples,” he said lightly. “That would be terribly old-fashioned of them, wouldn’t it? Anyway, Lucy agreed we’d attend as a pair, so we’ll register her as well, and she’ll pay us back.”

“What the hell, Lockwood?” George was now staring at him aghast, his eyes wide and owlish. “She’s going as your date?”

He forced a laugh. “Of course not, George. We both want to save money on the registration. This only makes sense. It’s a business deal really.” 

“Lockwood,” Holly began hesitantly, “are you sure this is really a good idea? None of us have even heard from Lucy in months, and well, you haven’t been…”

“Haven’t been what, Hol?”

“Well, you took her leaving rather hard, didn’t you? We all did really, and—”

Lockwood shrugged defensively, cutting Holly off. He didn’t need to rehash the past three months that he’d spent obsessively trying to come up with a way to get Lucy back. “Lucy agreed to this, and she can make her own decisions. Registration is expensive, and she wants to save the money, too.” 

“I knew Lucy was stupid when it came to you, Lockwood, but this really takes the cake,” George groaned. 

Lockwood frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She should have told you no instead of going along with the Lockwood effect. This is absolutely ridiculous. If you want to spend time with Lucy, why can’t you just ask her to dinner instead of this harebrained arrangement?”

“It’s not like that,” Lockwood insisted again. “It’s simply two professional colleagues attending a conference together.”  

George laughed. “That’s thick, even for you, Lockwood.” 

Holly was still looking at him with her brows furrowed in concern, and he resisted the urge to scowl, instead pasting on a smile. “Listen, we have an important case to get ready for tonight, so I suggest we do that now. You both can leave any remaining commentary about the conference to yourself while I focus on marketing this agency.” 

With that said, Lockwood set off up the stairs, taking them two at a time. George and Holly’s misgivings aside, that didn’t change that he was going to spend three days with Lucy. And if he had anything to say about it, soon she would be back at Portland Row. 

It was a good idea, he reassured himself again. His strategy would work. It had to. He couldn't take being without her for much longer.

Chapter Text

“Did you get a haircut?”

Lockwood looked up from his dresser to find George standing in the doorway to his bedroom. 

“Ah, yes. It was time,” he replied, absentmindedly patting the top of head before returning his attention to packing. He had just finished putting some gel in his hair, and he didn’t want to risk messing it up. 

George was still staring from the doorway. “Despite what you claim, you’re sure acting more like this is a date than a professional conference.”

“What?” Lockwood said, distracted as he continued ruffling through his drawers. Where was his new tie? “Of course not. It’s a networking opportunity, George.” 

“A networking opportunity that conveniently means you’ll get to spend an entire weekend with Lucy.” 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply besides, yes, it will be nice to spend some time with our former colleague.” Lockwood finally located the rogue tie and placed it on the top of his suitcase.  

“Are you going to ask her to come back?” 

Lockwood shifted on his feet, still keen to avoid George’s perceptive glare, as he zipped up the bag. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” George pushed his glasses up his nose and fixed his eyes on him again. 

“It was a condition to Lucy agreeing to join me. I can’t ask her to come back. But trust me, George, I’ll do everything I can do to show her why it would be a good idea.”

George shook his head. “Just don’t make it worse, Lockwood. That’s all I ask at this point.”

At that, Holly’s head appeared over George’s shoulder at his door. Lockwood stifled a sigh. It was entirely too early for this.

“I’m heading out now to finish packing, and I see you’re doing the same.” She smiled brightly. “Do tell Lucy I said hello, won’t you, Lockwood?”

“Will do. Good luck with the move. Bring Madeline around sometime soon for dinner or tea. We’re looking forward to meeting her.” 

George nodded sagely. “I’ll roast a chicken. And we can get a cake.”

“That’s very generous, but she’s vegan and gluten free, George,” Holly explained. 

George’s face fell in disappointment, and Lockwood had to stifle a laugh. Holly’s girlfriend would have one of the most complicated diets imaginable.  

“Well… I’ll figure something else out,” George said glumly. “Maybe we can just order takeaway.” 

At that, Lockwood picked up his suitcase and ushered them both out of his room. “I need to be going as well. Hol, I’ll walk out with you. George, don’t burn my house down this weekend.” 

“Don’t make Lucy mad!” George yelled from the landing as he walked down the stairs with Holly. 

“I’ve got it under control!” he called back. Not the most optimistic way to start the weekend, but a noble goal all the same.

Lockwood paced back and forth at the train station, checking his watch for the third time in five minutes. What if Lucy had changed her mind, and she didn’t show? That was a level of humiliation he wasn’t sure he could stand.

It was deeply frustrating that in a world where few people were capable of making him feel nervous or embarrassed that Lucy could do both. Thankfully, she rarely seemed to notice his occasional missteps around her, and he had to pray that continued this weekend. 

Finally, a familiar figure appeared in the distance, rapier and blue duffel bag in tow. 

“Lucy,” Lockwood called, a wave of relief cresting over him at the sight of her.

“Hi,” Lucy said. She seemed slightly less skittish than at the cafe, giving him a tentative smile. She had gotten a fresh haircut as well; he presumed she wanted to look her best for the conference. 

“Ready?” he said, gesturing towards their platform. “I’ve got our tickets already.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It’s the least I could do.”

They boarded the train together, settling into seats across from each other. 

“Lockwood, before I forget, here’s the check for my share of the registration,” Lucy said, handing an envelope to him. Lockwood thanked her and tucked it into his coat pocket, privately resolving to never deposit it, despite what he had told her, Holly, and George. He would have spent the same amount of money on a single registration anyway if Lucy hadn’t agreed to this arrangement. 

He nodded towards her backpack, clearly lacking the familiar shape of the silver glass jar. “I see it’s just you this weekend.”

“Oh. Yeah. Wasn’t much point in bringing the skull, and I didn’t want to risk someone seeing it.”

“Probably for the best,” he acknowledged. “A conference full of DEPRAC staff probably isn’t a great place to take a stolen Source.” 

She snorted. “The skull certainly didn’t think so. He was positively livid that I was leaving him behind. Kept moaning about how neglected he is.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear he’s retained his penchant for drama,” Lockwood said, pulling out a flask of tea and a packet of biscuits out of his own bag and placing them on the table between them. “Do you want some tea? I brought it to share.”

Lucy took a tiny sip of the tea, her eyes widening in surprise. “This is sweet, Lockwood. You don’t like sugar in your tea.” 

He shrugged. “You do though. Figured I’d compromise by adding two spoonfuls of sugar instead of your usual, what is it? Four? Five?” he teased, hoping he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Lucy made a disgruntled face at him, but took another drink from the flask. “I know what I like. Speaking of.” She eyed the biscuits. “You’re still on the Choco Leibniz, I see.”

“My biscuit preferences haven’t changed in a few months, Luce. I can only make so many concessions to your taste.” He leaned back in his seat, giving her a broad grin, as he took a biscuit for himself.

She rolled her eyes, but gave him a small smile before passing back the flask. He glanced down at it before taking a drink. In the old days, he had shared flasks of tea with Lucy like this all the time, but now it felt strangely intimate.  

Lockwood shook off his momentary discomfort by gesturing towards the biscuits. “Here—have one. It’s your turn. We can have our own biscuit rotation this weekend.”

“Whatever would George say about that?” 

He winked at her. “We won’t tell him.” 

“What has George been up to?” she asked abruptly. 

“The usual odd experiments mostly. And now he’s on me for a professional development budget. He wants to attend one of those offbeat academic conferences about the cause of the Problem. Says it would be more useful than this conference.” 

Lucy gazed out of the window as she munched on a biscuit. “Sounds just like him. Makes me miss him.” 

“He misses you,” Lockwood said quietly. Lucy suddenly started to look upset, and he rushed to change the subject, wondering if she had been lonely. “Holly also said to tell you hello.” Except Holly was an even worse topic, and he once again wanted to kick himself. 

Lockwood cleared his throat. Time for another pivot. “Anyway, we should really agree on a backstory before we arrive.”  

“What kind of backstory?”

“If people ask how we started dating.”

Lucy scowled at him, her mood instantly souring. “You said this wouldn't be a big thing, Lockwood.”

“Well, it won’t be. But someone will undoubtedly ask, so we should have our story straight.” 

“Fine.” She picked at her fingernails. “Obviously, we worked together, so there’s how we met. What else?”

“We’ve been dating for four months,” he suggested. “Long enough to be believable that we’re attending a conference together, but not so long that it would already be common knowledge. We can say it coincided with your decision to leave Lockwood & Co. so we didn't muddy the personal and professional waters.” 

Lucy looked both impressed and unsettled. “Clearly, you’ve thought this through.” 

“It’s like coming up with a disguise.” He gave her a wide grin. “And you know that’s a specialty of mine.”

In truth, he had spent half of Tuesday night mulling over how to handle this predicament, and that was the best he’d come up with. 

“Just no accents, please,” Lucy groaned. “I should have made that Rule #4. Am I allowed to amend our contract?”

“Did you bring it with you?” he asked curiously.

Lucy pulled the paper from her coat pocket with a glint in her eye. “Yeah, still in here from when we had coffee.” 

Lockwood barked out a laugh, as he dug through his own coat pockets and produced a deck of cards. “Well, if you insist we can add no accents, but I don’t anticipate any opportunities for them. We still have about an hour to go, Luce. Want to play for a bit?”

Lucy seemed pleased at that idea. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

He dealt the cards with a flourish, letting his grin grow a bit wider. 

The rest of the train ride passed by pleasantly. The two of them slowly slipped back into something resembling a hesitant camaraderie as Lucy trounced him at cards, looking more and more satisfied with herself with every hand she won. She had always been annoyingly good at card games. Lockwood carefully kept the conversation light and did his best to steer them away from problematic topics after his earlier mishap. He needed Lucy to feel comfortable with him again before he could broach more difficult subjects.

Soon they were filing off the train and onto a shuttle with a group of other conference attendees. The conference was being held on a rambling country estate that had been repurposed into a venue for large events. There was a large hotel connected to the old manor house, all surrounded by sweeping grounds.  

They arrived in the midst of a wave of other agents from London, rapiers and agency uniforms abounding. Lockwood quickly found the registration table so they could check in.

“Welcome Mr.—?” said a chipper young female agent in a Fittes uniform. All the large agencies had recruited  their staff to volunteer this weekend at the conference. 

“Lockwood,” he filled in. “Anthony Lockwood. And this is Lucy Carlyle. We’re registered together.” 

The younger agent handed him and Lucy their name tags and bags containing the conference schedule, promotional materials from the various vendors, and garish t-shirts emblazoned with the slogan Fighting the Problem on All Fronts.

Lockwood paused, seeing Lucy’s name tag for the first time next to his. Lucy Carlyle, Freelance Psychic Investigation Agent. Anthony J. Lockwood, Lockwood & Co. 

For a moment, this farce had almost felt real, like the two of them were really here together as colleagues, but the harsh reality was right in front of him in black and white. Soon, hopefully they would be colleagues again—at least if he had anything to say about it. 

Lucy nudged him in the side as she looked at the shirts with glee. “I know you’ll be dying to wear that shirt.” 

“Hardly. But I’m sure George will enjoy his birthday present,” he retorted, grimacing at the bright orange. 

“And here’s your room keys, Mr. Lockwood. Room 505,” the agent said, sliding them across the table. “Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you.”

“And what about my room?” Lucy asked, shifting her duffle bag on her shoulder 

The agent looked at them blankly. “There’s only keys to one room in your packet. Should there be two rooms?”

Lockwood closed his eyes. This was not happening.

“Yes,” he said, giving the agent his most persuasive smile. “There certainly should be. I specifically confirmed that before we registered.” 

“Oh dear,” she said, chewing her lip and looking distressed. “There must be a mishap. I’m afraid you’ll have to speak to the hotel staff. I can’t do anything about room reservations.” 

Lockwood sighed. Lucy already had a wide eyed look of distress on her face. 

“Luce,” he said confidently, nodding to the lifts. “You take this room and go on up. I’ll talk to the front desk and get this resolved. I’ll come by your room in a few minutes, and we can have lunch before the first session.” 

He strode off to find the hotel’s front desk, coat swishing behind him as he conjured up his best smile. This was a situation for the Anthony Lockwood charm. He would fix this. 

Unfortunately, the hotel staff seemed immune to his smile, his charm, and his registration paperwork, and Lockwood quickly found himself in an argument. 

“It’s standard practice for our events that couples registering together share a room,” the hotel manager curtly informed him. She had just flipped through the registration book for the second time, only to give him the crushing news once again that he and Lucy had only been assigned one room.

“But we aren’t married,” Lockwood explained. His patience was rapidly abandoning him, as the reality of having to share a room with Lucy for the weekend began to sink in. “I was expressly assured by DEPRAC that we’d be given separate rooms.”

“Mr. Lockwood, this isn’t the 1950’s. I don’t know what the staff at DEPRAC told you, but they don’t handle room reservations. We do. And it’s our policy that—”

“I know,” he said exasperated. “You’ve said it already. I’d be happy to pay for a second room in that case.”

The incompetence of DEPRAC truly knew no bounds. He never should have trusted them with something so important. 

“Well, I’m afraid that there was so much interest in the conference that we’re completely booked through the weekend. There aren’t any other rooms. You’ll have to share with Ms. Carlyle. That won’t be a problem, will it?” The manager raised an eyebrow slightly in his direction, almost as if she could sense that they had attempted to game the system with their couples registration.

Lockwood opened his mouth and stopped. He couldn’t very well keep protesting or it would quickly become obvious that he and Lucy were not, in fact, a couple. 

He trudged upstairs with his bag, praying to God that there were at least two beds in the room. He would just have to spend as little time as possible there as possible to give Lucy privacy. After the fiasco of Holly going into Lucy’s bedroom back at Portland Row, he knew Lucy wouldn’t want to share with anyone—but especially not with him given the terms they were on.

Sharing a room with Lucy also presented its own challenges for him, but he was going to have to set those concerns aside for the time being. 

Lockwood took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

“That was quick,” Lucy said, clearly surprised to see him. “Why do you still have your bag? Why haven’t you gone to your room yet?”

“May I come in?”

He stepped past her and quickly scanned the hotel room, confirming his worst fears. 

Shit. 

A single large, fluffy white bed with an upholstered headboard sat taunting him in the middle of the wall. The floor was covered with a well worn oriental rug, and there was a wooden desk and chair in the corner, as well as a small dresser. A large window showed off a view of the gardens in the distance. There wasn’t even an armchair.  

Lucy’s duffle bag was open on the bed, her coat lying next to it. She had started to unpack, and some of her belongings were already scattered around the room. 

“Would you like the good news or the bad news first?” Lockwood said, giving her the smile he used on upset clients. 

“Bad,” Lucy said instantly, narrowing her eyes as she closed the door behind her. He almost forgot she knew all of his tricks. 

“There was some sort of misunderstanding with our reservation between what DEPRAC told me and the hotel’s policy. There are no other rooms available because the hotel’s sold out, and there aren’t any other hotels nearby. So I apologize, Lucy, but our only option is to share for the weekend.”

“What’s the good news then?” Lucy’s tone had turned slightly hysterical. 

“You get to have this very comfortable looking king size bed to yourself. I’ll call right now and have them bring up a cot up for me.” Lockwood tried for another reassuring smile, but she just glared at him in that way of hers that would have made even Churchill flinch. 

This was not the start to the weekend he had hoped for.

“Lockwood,” she said. “Are you sure you didn’t know this was going to be part of the reduced rate?” 

“What—do you think I planned this? I know your privacy is important to you, Lucy.” And as if he’d have the nerve to do such a thing even under the best of circumstances. 

“No, I know you wouldn’t do that. But it does make sense for there to only be one room…” She fidgeted.

“Lucy, I’ll take full responsibility since I sent in the registration. Well, Holly registered us,” he corrected, “but I told her what to do.”

“Wait—” Lucy’s cheeks suddenly tinted pink. “Does that mean Holly knows we’re registered as a couple? Does George know too?” 

Somehow he had not considered that this might be a sensitive subject for Lucy, but by the look on her face, it most certainly was. “Ah, yes, they do,” he admitted. 

Lucy now seemed to be resisting the urge to throw something at him, and given how much he had already managed to botch this up, Lockwood couldn’t blame her. 

“They know it was just for the savings though,” he added quickly. 

“Do they know that we’re pretending to be together?” She seemed scandalized by the idea.

“I didn’t think that was pertinent information for them,” he demurred. He had let George and Holly come to their own conclusion about the details of his arrangement with Lucy, assuming they would think the worst regardless. “Is that all right?”

“This all felt different before I realized people we knew would know about it. It’s embarrassing,” Lucy muttered, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Of course Lucy would consider dating him to be embarrassing. George had implied numerous times over the past year that Lucy had a bit of a crush on him, and there had even been a few moments over the previous summer and early autumn when Lockwood had wondered if there had been a kernel of truth to the idea. However, even if that had once been true, clearly any feelings Lucy had once harbored for him had long since disappeared over the dark nights of the winter and the tumultuous days of autumn that had preceded them. 

Lockwood scratched his nose. The hesitant ceasefire between the two of them had abruptly vanished. How was he supposed to get Lucy to come back if he couldn’t even prove that he was capable of handling something this simple?

“I know none of this is ideal, Luce, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible this weekend,” he promised. 

She sighed. “Let’s just go to lunch, okay? I don’t want to miss it. The closet’s over there.” She grabbed her bag of toiletries and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the room. 

Lockwood let his composed, confident mask fall, as he ran his fingers roughly through his hair. 

Well, the weekend certainly wasn’t off to an auspicious start. 

Chapter Text

Before they walked inside the dining room for lunch, Lockwood paused and held his hand out to Lucy. She looked at him apprehensively. 

“C’mon, Luce, we’re just playing a part,” he said persuasively. “And we’ve done this before.” 

She gave him another look before clasping his hand, her implication clear—not like this. Lockwood tried not to take it personally as he knew she was still smarting from the room debacle. Instead, he focused on how her palm was warm against his, the callouses from her rapier matching his own.

Even with a less than perfect rooming situation for the weekend, it was still thrilling to be here with Lucy. In the grand scheme of it all, the room situation was a blip; they could move past it. Now he could finally start putting the rest of his plan into action. 

After getting food, the two of them settled into a table next to the window to review their schedules for the weekend, away from the chaos of seemingly endless tables of agents waving their rapiers and screeching at each other while their supervisors tried to ignore the noise. They compared programs for the various conference tracks, divvying up the sessions to cover the most ground. Lockwood planned to attend most of the sessions for agency administrators, while Lucy would tackle the track that covered advanced field work and came with the coordinating certification. 

While Lockwood’s primary purpose this weekend was to repair his relationship with Lucy, he also had a long list of people he wanted to meet. Next, he turned his attention to the list of conference attendees. He put marks next to any names he recognized from the papers, as well as leads for potential clients. He also added checkmarks for potential contacts for Lucy that would result in the kind of cases where she would hopefully be working with reputable agents. Even if she continued to insist on staying freelance after this weekend, at least she would be in a position to work with teams that were a better match for her Talent and would keep her safe.

Lucy was still finishing her sandwich when he slid the list over to her. “The checkmarks are people I’m going to try to talk to on your behalf. Any objections?” 

She scanned the list. “It’s fine, but that’s quite a lot of people, Lockwood.” 

“I reckon they’ll be good contacts for me too—and that’s why I’m here after all. You have your business cards, right? Can you give me some in case I want to pass them onto someone for you?” 

“Better you than me,” Lucy said, eying the list with distaste. She handed him a small stack of her cards with the silver gray border, and he tucked them away safely in his pocket. She shook her head. “I’ll never understand how you enjoy hobnobbing with these pretentious people.”

“There’s nothing to it,” he said easily, feeling on steadier ground. 

It was helpful to have something to focus his energy on rather than the still lingering tension between the two of them over the room debacle. In reality, Lockwood knew that the room issue was really only a thin veneer over the brittle layers of misunderstandings, conflict, and longing that crept between him and Lucy last autumn, as insidious as fog on a fall morning or an invasive vine in a garden. 

He’d been in denial about his own feelings for Lucy for longer than he should have, but somewhere between the Wintergarten case and Aickmere’s, it had all crystallized for him, the knowledge suddenly so obvious he could no longer ignore it. 

However, that hadn't mean Lockwood had known what to do about those feelings. He’d been in the midst of coming up with a strategy when Lucy had made her abrupt exit from Portland Row—and all of his hopes had vanished with her. But now he’d had months to think about where everything went wrong and formulate a new plan. He was determined to strip the layers away this weekend, to clear the air and root out the dangerous growth between them for good. However, he had to tread carefully; otherwise, he would risk losing Lucy for good. 

In the meantime, he also had a job to do. But just as Lockwood was preparing to head to his first session, he heard a rather unwelcome voice. 

“Tony? And Lucy?”

There in his Fittes uniform, insufferable bejeweled rapier in tow, stood Quill Kipps, flanked by Kat Godwin and Bobby Vernon. After seeing Kipps’s name on the list of conference attendees, Lockwood had been bracing himself for this moment—he just hadn’t been prepared for it to happen quite so soon.

The two of them had come to something of an understanding following the case at Aickmere’s with their previous animosity settling into a begrudging respect. A tentative peace didn’t mean Lockwood was exactly looking forward to socializing though. 

“Kipps!” Lockwood said, slapping on a megawatt smile. “Kat, Bobby. Wonderful to see you all.” 

“You two just can’t stay away from each other, can you?” Kipps remarked, sizing up him and Lucy together.

“Hi Kipps,” Lucy said wryly, eying him with something like distaste. She nodded towards Kat and Bobby, who both nodded in return. “Hello.” 

“I thought you weren’t working together any longer?” Kipps raised an eyebrow in their direction. 

“We aren’t,” Lucy said. “I’m still freelance.”

“But you are here together?”

Depends what you mean by together, Lockwood wanted to say. Lucy looked at him with her eyes wide, so he decided to take the lead on responding. “Yes,” he said smoothly. “We’re here together.” 

“Huh. Interesting,” Kipps said, his eyes sweeping over the two of them again, seeking out the way their hands were resting next to each other on the table. Lockwood hadn’t even noticed that they were almost touching, but now he wondered if he should move away. Or should he grab Lucy’s hand and make it very clear that they were here together? In the end, he decided it was best to exit the conversation entirely before Lucy had a meltdown. 

“And actually, we need to be going right now,” Lockwood said. “We don’t want to be late. Luce?” He stood and quickly guided them to the hallway, tossing a quick goodbye and another smile over his shoulder at the Fittes agents. Kipps was now blatantly staring at the two of them, a peculiar expression on his face.

“That was weird,” Lucy said, shaking herself a bit. “I hadn’t considered how many people we know might be here this weekend…” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat as they walked down the hall.

Lockwood glanced sideways at her. “We’ve got this, Luce.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her another smile as he turned to leave. “I’ll meet up with you later in the afternoon?” 

She nodded. “Yes. See you during the break.” 

While his first session on bookkeeping wasn’t exactly as thrilling as a spot of rapier practice, Lockwood had to begrudgingly admit that it was useful. He spent most of it sitting in the back so he could size up the rest of the attendees while scribbling in his notebook. After his session ended, he chatted briefly with a few staff members from other independent agencies about new DEPRAC regulations before he was able to slip away to find Lucy. 

She was already waiting for him in the hallway, sitting cross legged against the wall, doodling in her notebook. Lockwood sank down next to her, their shoulders brushing. “Hey, Luce.” 

“Hi.” She gestured towards his notebook. “What do you have there?”

“Notes for Holly mostly. New admin ideas—ways to hopefully simplify our bookkeeping a bit.”

“That makes sense.” Lucy bit her lip. “Um, how are things going with Holly?” She asked with forced casualness, looking away from him. 

“Fine,” Lockwood said carefully. 

She let out a dramatic sigh. “You don’t have to do that, Lockwood.” 

“Do what?” he asked innocently, knowing full well exactly what she meant. 

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to explode every time you mention Holly. Like I told you, I didn’t leave because of her.”

“I know you said that, Luce. But I know you two didn’t exactly get along.”

“Well, it wasn’t about her,” Lucy said again. “It was about my Talent.”

There it was: Lucy’s Talent. The thing they had butted heads over countless times and her repeated excuse for her abrupt departure from Lockwood & Co. the prior December. They needed to have this conversation at some point this weekend; perhaps it was best to get it over with now. 

“To be clear, I never doubted your Talent, Lucy, or your skills,” Lockwood said carefully. “You’re still the best agent I’ve ever worked with. I was just concerned for your safety.”

She acknowledged his comment with a nod, but didn’t say anything else, so he transitioned to a new topic. “Speaking of your Talent, how was your session? Tell me what I should know.”

“These sessions are basically acknowledging that adult supervisors are useless,” she snorted.  

“How is that part of working with other agencies?” Lockwood inquired, his curiosity getting the best of him. He’d kept tabs on Lucy’s cases as much as he could over the past several months, discretely employing every contact he had, as well as some of Holly’s. What he’d heard had made him both nervous and impressed.

Lucy grimaced, her expression immediately making her opinion clear. “Frustrating. Mostly terrible. Doing jobs on my own is better, but there are limits to what I can take on.” 

Lockwood nodded slowly, very much hoping that Lucy’s ideas of her limits had grown more reasonable over the past several months. Although he begrudgingly had to admit that he wasn’t really one to talk given how much he’d taken on since she left. 

“My session just now was on Advanced Visitor Deescalation Techniques. Some of it was surprisingly useful.” 

“Anything I should know about?”

Lucy hesitated. “Some interesting ideas—actually some techniques that go along with what I’ve been working on this winter. I’m calling it the Lucy Carlyle Method.”

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning a bit closer to her, his interest piqued. 

Lucy proceeded to explain the simple process she’d developed, giving him a wary look all the while. Lockwood felt his blood pressure increase slightly at the idea of Lucy connecting with Visitors regularly and had to work to keep himself calm. Lucy was here and safe in front of him, so he consoled himself that she must be doing something right.

“Does it work?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes. And I’ve learned how to get out quickly when it doesn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said honestly. “Your Talent is truly extraordinary, Luce. It’s good that you’re feeling more confident in it these days.”

She brightened at the compliment, her smile becoming closer to the genuine one he’d missed so much over recent months. “Thanks, Lockwood.” 

Lockwood stood, offering her his hand again. “I heard there’s biscuits if you’re interested before the next session.”

 “You know I never turn down a biscuit. Lead the way.” Lucy took his hand willingly this time, and Lockwood tried his best not to read too much into that as he helped her to her feet. 

By the time his next session on finance wrapped up, Lockwood was full of restless energy, even after standing in the back of the room for part of the discussion. Now that he was finished with the formal programming for the afternoon, he took the opportunity to connect with some potential clients before heading to his designated meeting place to find Lucy. 

As he waited for her, Lockwood struck up another conversation with some staff he recognized from Tweed and Dullop. While they were adults, Reggie and Lisa were both former agents and younger than most agency administrators, and they had been helpful contacts for him in the past. 

As they continued to chat, Lockwood saw Lucy approach, then hang back. She clearly didn’t want to intrude on his conversation, so he motioned for her to join them. She came to stand next to him, giving the group a hesitant smile. 

“Reggie and Lisa,” Lockwood said, gesturing to Lucy, “This is Lucy Carlyle—the best Listener and agent I’ve ever met—and my girlfriend.”

Lucy jumped at the word girlfriend, but managed to collect herself fairly quickly. “Hello,” she said, clearly uncomfortable, as she flashed another nervous smile. Lockwood put what was intended to be a reassuring hand on her arm, hoping she wouldn’t jump again. Thankfully, this gesture did seem to work, and Lucy relaxed slightly. 

“Not biased at all, are you, Lockwood?” Reggie asked, teasing them good naturedly.  

“Not at all,” Lockwood replied, winking at them. “I hired Lucy myself once upon a time. And I wouldn’t hire anyone but the best.” 

Lisa looked at their name tags again. “Do you still work together?”

“No, I’m on my own now,” Lucy explained. “Freelance.”

Lockwood didn’t miss the way she glanced at him, but he carefully kept his face neutral. One of them had to be a good actor in this situation. “Didn’t want to mix business with pleasure,” he said smoothly. 

Lucy flushed, and Lockwood had to hold in a bit of a laugh. His comment wasn’t even particularly suggestive, but apparently that was enough for Lucy. Idly, Lockwood found himself wondering what would really make Lucy blush before immediately making himself snap out of that train of thought. This was not the time or place for that kind of thinking. This is business. Just business, he reminded himself sternly. 

“Well, in that case, Lucy, if you’re as good as Lockwood says you are, we should get your contact information. We’re always looking for a good Listener,” Lisa said. 

Lucy’s face brightened slightly as she passed over her business card. A few moments later, Reggie and Lisa excused themselves. 

“That was easy,” Lucy said, looking pleased.

“Nothing to it, Luce.” Lockwood interlaced their hands again as they headed down the hall. He found that he’d already grown used to the warm, comfortable feeling of Lucy’s hand intertwined with his. Having her close again made him feel steadier and calmer. He sneaked another look at her, hoping that she was starting to feel more relaxed, too. 

“Thank you,” Lucy said abruptly. “I wouldn’t have met them without your help. And those nice things you said about me—I appreciate it, Lockwood.”

“They’re all true, Lucy.”

“Still. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye.” 

“Yes,” he allowed. “But I’ve always thought you had your Talent well in hand, and what I’ve heard about you over the past few months—as well as what you shared earlier—has confirmed that. Any team would be fortunate to work with you. We certainly miss working with you.” 

She gave him a sharp look. That was close enough to Rule #2 for now. 

“Anyway,” Lockwood said quickly. “We have some downtime before the evening. There are a few more people I’d like to connect with. Would you like to come with me—or I imagine you might like a break?” 

“A break, please,” Lucy said. “Especially if this is all we’re going to be doing for the rest of the night.” She grimaced again. 

They parted ways from there, Lucy heading up to their room and Lockwood went to do more networking. He spent the next hour passing around business cards (both his and Lucy’s) and slipping in flattering compliments when needed.

By the time he returned to their room, Lockwood was feeling quite pleased with himself and optimistic about the progress he had made less than a day into the conference. He’d already gotten promises about getting phone calls the following week about potential jobs. However, his mood was dampened slightly when he saw that the cot he had requested from the hotel hadn’t been delivered yet. 

“No cot?” he asked Lucy, frowning as he closed the door behind him.

“Nothing yet,” she said, shaking her head from where she was sitting on the bed, working on a drawing in her sketchbook.

Lockwood resisted the urge to sigh at the incompetence of the staff. “I’ll call them again.”

A quick phone call later, the concierge had assured him that while they had been busy, the cot would be up within the hour. Lockwood settled in at the desk, drumming his fingers on the wooden top as he quickly went through his notes and his contact list. With Lucy here, this almost felt like the afternoons they used to spend together in the living room at Portland Row. They chatted idly from time to time, but mostly both focused on their own tasks in companionable silence.

Soon it was time to get ready for the evening’s cocktail party networking event. Lockwood surveyed his wardrobe. Since he had a bit of time, he decided he should go ahead and iron his shirts for the next few days. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, running his hands through his hair while he waited for the iron to heat up. 

Lockwood felt the weight of Lucy’s gaze on him. He ventured a look at her, and she quickly turned away, her cheeks developing a light flush. “Luce?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling. 

“I should get ready, too,” she said, standing up and ducking into the bathroom. 

While Lucy got dressed, Lockwood swapped his usual trainers for dress shoes, fixed his hair, and retied the knot of his tie. He’d worn the blue tie this morning that Lucy had gifted him for Christmas the year prior; he wondered if she had noticed or even remembered since she hadn’t acknowledged it. 

As he was pulling on his jacket, Lucy emerged from the bathroom in a black dress, her cheeks still flushed. She was wearing the necklace he’d given her before the Fittes Ball—Jessica’s necklace. Seeing it around her neck again felt like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm—the smallest glimpse of hope. 

After a quick dinner, they walked to the cocktail party together. When Lucy reached for his hand, Lockwood couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her. “I hate these kinds of parties,” she confessed, making a face as she clutched his hand harder.

He squeezed her palm back. “You’ll be great, Luce, and I’ll be with you all night, okay? We can always take a break if you want to.” 

She nodded, setting her face in resignation. Personally, after that afternoon's conversation about her Talent, more networking felt like something of a relief for Lockwood. This kind of performance came far more naturally to him.

Lockwood did a quick survey of the room. It was crowded with their fellow conference attendees, all dressed in cocktail attire, although there were some agency uniforms sprinkled in. There were several bars strategically placed throughout the room and tables laden with food on the edges of the space, as well as servers whisking around with platters full of canapés. Groups of agents were milling around the room, like packs of wild animals set free from their cages.

While Lockwood spotted a number of familiar faces during his scan of the space, as always, his gaze quickly returned to Lucy. She was fidgeting next to him and tugging on her dress. 

“Luce,” Lockwood said, putting a hand on her elbow and leaning down to whisper in her ear. She shifted, and his lips just barely brushed the shell of her ear. “Your dress is fine.” 

If Lockwood was honest, the dress was more than fine. The cut was simple without any frills—much like Lucy—and it suited her curvy frame. She had worn this dress on the rare occasions in the past when they’d had formal events to attend for the agency, and the way it made her hips look had haunted his dreams afterwards. Although Lockwood was self-aware enough to admit that Lucy could have worn her pajamas to this party and he still would’ve struggled to tear his eyes away from her.

Her expression immediately turned sheepish. “Oh. It’s just old.” 

“So?” he replied. “You look nice in it, and no one else is paying attention anyway. They rarely are in situations like this. That’s the trick—everyone is mostly thinking about themselves.” 

“If you say so,” she said, giving him a weak smile. 

“I do. No need to tell me how good I look,” Lockwood said, winking at her, using his vanity as a shield for the more tender feelings lurking underneath. Lucy rolled her eyes at that, but his joke had made her loosen up slightly, which had been his goal. “Let’s try and meet some people, shall we?”

Lucy’s eyes went wide when Lockwood took a step towards a group of agents from Grimble. “Not them,” she whispered, putting her hand on his arm and yanking him back. 

 “Why not?” 

“Robbie just went through a terrible breakup,” Lucy said, now wincing as she nodded towards a glum looking agent with red hair. “With the blonde girl over there—Jacqueline—that’s flirting with that agent from Rotwell’s who he’s glaring daggers at. I suggest we don’t try to talk to him unless you’d like to hear him mope about his terrible love life. His grandmother’s also ill, and he’s quite sad about it.” 

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “How in the world do you know all that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve worked with a lot of different teams this winter. And unfortunately people have decided to talk to me.”

“The horror,” Lockwood said solemnly. 

Lucy swatted him on the arm. “Oh, shut up. Apparently everyone’s decided that since I’m a Listener I’m a good person to tell their problems to.”

Lockwood let out a laugh, already amused at the idea of Lucy hearing the drama of all the agencies of London. “So what—you’re some kind of a gossip collector now?”

“It hasn’t been by choice,” Lucy scowled. “People just tell me things, and I can’t tell them to go away as much as I might want to because then they might complain to their supervisors that I’m bad to work with. Since I’m an outsider, they feel like they can open up to me more. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” 

Lockwood looked around the room again with fresh eyes, his mind whirling with new possibilities. “So who else here do you know things about? Any gossip that would be useful to me?” 

Lucy wrinkled her nose and sighed. “I don’t know…” Her eyes caught on another group from Rotwell’s that Lockwood vaguely recognized. “Well, that team—their leader, Raj, is quickly phasing out. He’s losing his Talent—he’s a Listener, too—but he’s in denial about it. That’s why they needed me. The rest of their team is on edge about it.” 

She nodded toward a third huddle of disgruntled looking agents from Atkins and Armstrong. “They were horrible,” she shuddered. “Almost all of them have been involved with each other at some point, and their supervisor was clueless, so I was just surrounded by jealousy and incompetence all night. I did most of the work for the case, and they just bickered. I caught two of them snogging in a closet when they were supposed to be taking temperature readings and almost stabbed them with my rapier.” 

Lockwood threw back his head and laughed. “So they called you in just to have someone clean up their mess?” 

Lucy gave him a small grin. “Yeah. Sadly, they were actually Talented once they got their heads out of their arses. They should really be split up, but that would throw off the entire balance of all of the teams at the agency.” 

Lockwood nodded towards the food. “Come on, let’s get something to eat while you tell me more. I’ll figure out which of these rather fancy looking bites have horseradish for you.” He gathered them a plate of food to share while Lucy continued whispering to him about the various cliques of agents scattered around the ballroom. 

“You’re a positive well of gossip, Luce,” he said admiringly, as he handed her some appetizers he’d deemed safe. “I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“I know things, but I don’t really know anyone, if that makes sense. It’s a bit odd actually.” Lucy suddenly looked uncomfortable again, although she offered him a weak smile. 

“That sounds… lonely,” Lockwood said carefully.

The sadness in Lucy’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. Lucy had been lonely these past few months, and it made Lockwood’s heart ache to see it confirmed, even if she wasn’t going to admit it. 

Lucy hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Being with you today has felt more like being part of a team than any job I’ve done in ages. Besides the skull, of course.” 

Lockwood felt his face widen in a grin at that. “We haven’t lost it, I suppose.” 

“I guess not.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Lockwood, I really do appreciate that you’re helping me meet people. It’s nice to have a real team again, even if it’s just for this weekend. Or however you want to describe what it is that we’re doing here.”

“I think that’s pretty accurate. Oh, Luce,” Lockwood said, his brow furrowing, “You have a bit of sauce on your face.” 

Lucy grimaced. “Oh hell.” She grabbed a napkin and attempted to wipe off the tomato sauce, but only succeeded in smearing it further. “Did I get it?”

Lockwood stopped her. “Let me,” he said, taking the napkin and angling her chin with his other hand so he could carefully clean the offending spot on her face. Lucy’s eyes met his, and he suddenly realized how close together they were. His fingers were still resting on her jaw. 

“All done?” she asked softly. 

Lockwood nodded, temporarily at a loss for words. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You’re good now.” 

They stood there for another beat, suspended in motion, before Lockwood let his hand slide down Lucy’s neck before he backed away slightly. He consoled himself by reaching for her hand again. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s go actually talk to some people—potential clients, not agents.” 

Lucy squared her shoulders like she was about to cross the threshold into a dangerous haunting. “I’ll follow you.” 

Lockwood flitted around the room from there, steering them from one group to another. Lucy still let him take the lead as they talked to various groups of people, but she seemed slightly more relaxed now that she’d had some time to loosen up. 

A bit later, Lockwood nodded towards the bar. “Would you like a drink, Luce?” Predictably, the line for the bar was mostly made up of agents, entirely too excited about having a night out that didn’t include hunting Visitors, although most of the remaining crowd still seemed well behaved.

Lucy wavered slightly before nodding. “Why not?” 

“What do you want?”

She shrugged. “Surprise me I guess.”

Lockwood quickly returned with two beers. “Nice thing about having a boyfriend,” he said with a smirk. “Don’t have to get your own drinks.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, but took the beer from him. “That’s exactly why I need a boyfriend I guess. To get me drinks at all the fancy society parties I regularly attend.” 

“Yes, exactly,” he beamed. He snuck a glance in Lucy’s direction as he took a sip of his own drink, only to find her already looking at him again. She quickly looked away. Curious, he thought. Very curious. 

“This way, Luce,” he said, putting a hand on her elbow as he guided her to another group. Rather than the awkwardness he’d feared, it seemed that these sorts of casual touches had grown more and more comfortable for both of them over the course of the day. “Only a bit more of this before we can head out.” 

Lockwood quickly whisked them into an enthusiastic discussion about the newest regulations for Source disposal with a number of stuffy bureaucrats from DEPRAC. He could practically see Lucy’s eyes glazing over, but it was always helpful for him to have more contacts at DEPRAC for if—or when—he needed help out of a tough spot and he was on Barnes’ bad side. 

As the conversation continued, Lockwood let his hand fall to Lucy’s waist and then curl around her hip. She jolted a bit at the contact, looking up at him in surprise, and Lockwood caught himself. Her face said everything; this was more touching than what they’d discussed or agreed upon. For a moment, he’d forgotten that this—between them—wasn’t real, instead slipping into doing what felt natural. 

Sorry Lockwood tried to convey to her with his eyes as he slowly started to pull away.

Lucy shrugged and imperceptibly shifted closer, her response clear. It was okay. 

Lockwood left his hand on Lucy’s lower back, but the gesture felt loaded. He couldn’t let go or else it would seem like some type of rejection. But now Lucy was closer to him than ever—much closer than when they had been holding hands earlier in the evening.

Tentatively, Lockwood let his hand move back over to her side. He held his breath, as Lucy leaned in to him, letting her head graze against his shoulder. He hadn’t been this close to her since that terrible night when he’d found her in the rubble under Aickmere’s, and she had thrown herself sobbing into his arms. This situation was much more pleasant, and he selfishly found himself wanting to enjoy it for as long as possible. 

A moment later, Lucy turned to him, pushing up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Can we leave now? I’m so bored I might fall asleep standing up.” 

Lockwood had to suppress a laugh, trying to ignore the chill that Lucy’s breath on his face sent through him. He gave her a small nod before gracefully excusing them. Just as they were about to exit the ballroom, they were stopped by a group from Tendy’s. 

“Lockwood!” A boy with ginger hair and freckles called, striding over to his side and clapping him on the back. He had bright blue eyes and an infectious grin.

“James,” Lockwood said, a smile breaking out over his face at the sight of the other agent. “I was hoping I’d see you! I had no idea you were at Tendy’s until I saw the registration list.”

James nodded. “It’s new—I just recently moved back to London with my brother.” 

“So glad to hear it,” he said warmly. Lucy gave him a curious look, and Lockwood nudged her forward slightly. “James, forgive me—this is my girlfriend, Lucy Carlyle. Lucy, James is an old friend from my time with Gravedigger.” 

“Hi,” Lucy said, giving James a tentative smile.

James shook Lucy’s hand, raising an eyebrow at him over her head. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sounds like we have a lot to catch up on, Lockwood. Are you two coming to the after party?” 

“After party?” Lucy inquired, already looking slightly disgruntled at the prospect. 

“Rotwell’s put something together—unofficially, of course. They’re taking over almost the entire second floor of the hotel.”

“Luce?” Lockwood questioned. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to—”

“Oh, come on,” James said enthusiastically. That was classic James. Before he'd moved to Bath to live with his grandmother, he’d always been the life of the party. “I’ll tell you this much—it promises to be a much better scene than this stuffy party.”

“It’s your call, Lucy,” Lockwood said, turning to face her and giving her his most persuasive smile. “I know you might be tired.” 

Lucy hesitated. “Maybe just for a bit?” 

“Excellent! I’ll see you both there,” James called, hurrying to catch up with his Tendy’s colleagues and leaving the two of them alone. 

“C’mon, Luce, if it’s terrible, we won’t stay long. I promise,” Lockwood said hopefully.

“Fine.” Lucy gave a dramatic sigh.

“You won’t regret this, Lucy.” Lockwood smiled brightly at her, already excited about the prospect of the party.

“Oh, I almost certainly will,” she grumbled, as he interlaced their fingers and pulled her down the hallway.

Chapter Text

Since the party was only on the second floor of the hotel and there was a long line for the lift, Lockwood directed them to the stairwell instead. 

“As I predicted, you were excellent tonight, Luce,” he said, as they started walking up the stairs side by side.

“Yeah,” Lucy said, giving him a small smile as she toyed with her necklace. “Could have been worse, I guess.” 

“As you said, it’s good to team up with you again.” 

“Yeah, besides those terrible DEPRAC people, it wasn’t—oh, God,” Lucy hissed, her voice dropping as she yanked on his arm, stopping them both. She was now staring up the stairs with an expression usually reserved for the most macabre Rawbones.

Lockwood followed Lucy’s gaze, convinced he was about to see a gruesome Visitor or a death glow. Instead, he was confronted with two very alive individuals leaning against the door to the second floor. The two agents in question—a taller boy with blonde hair and a shorter girl with dark hair—were snogging so enthusiastically, they could have made an Olympic sport out of it. The couple was so engrossed in their activities, they hadn’t even noticed the two of them approaching. 

Lockwood stifled a laugh and continued up the stairs, pulling a still horrified looking Lucy along with him. “Excuse us,” he said calmly, causing the agents to finally tear themselves away from each other with matching sheepish expressions. “Can we slip right past you?” 

“Sure,” the boy said breathlessly, while the girl hid her face in his shoulder. “Sorry about that, mate.” 

“No problem,” Lockwood said cheerfully. “Have a good evening.” 

As soon as they were safely in the hallway and the door had shut behind them, Lockwood couldn’t hold a laugh. “Did you see their faces, Luce?” 

“No,” she said, a laugh bubbling out of her. “How was I supposed to when they were attached to each other's mouths?” 

“I suppose it’s difficult to find privacy around here with all these people.” 

“Apparently.” 

“Well, we have a party to get to. I’m guessing it’s that way.” He nodded down the hall where he could already hear music playing and people laughing.

The second floor was crowded with swarms of agents milling about, and a line had formed to enter the party. A Rotwell agent Lockwood didn’t know was stationed between the doorways to two large suites, collecting admission.

“They’re charging us?” Lucy said, looking outraged at the idea. “For this?”

Lockwood shrugged. “It’s fine, Luce. I’ve got it.” He dug around in his wallet and passed over the money. 

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he heard Lucy mutter under her breath.

“Luce?” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“The bar is to your left,” the agent explained. “And people are playing drinking games to the right.” 

“Let’s get a drink then, shall we?” Lockwood said. 

They squeezed through the rowdy crowd in search of the bar. Most of the furniture in the suites had been shoved to the edges of the room to make room for dancing and games, and a line wound around the edge of the room to the makeshift bar set up on a desk. The surly, bored looking agent manning the bar informed them there were exactly two choices for drinks: beer and a reddish concoction served out a large bucket that he called “Rotwell rum punch.”

“Punch, please,” Lockwood said, figuring the cocktail would be stronger. 

Lucy eyed the mixture suspiciously before agreeing with him. “I’ll have the same thing.”

“Cheers, Luce,” he said, clinking her drink with his. 

“Cheers.”

At the first taste, they both almost gagged. The cocktail—if it could even be called that—was both nauseatingly sweet and aggressively alcoholic. Lockwood whistled under his breath. “That’s quite strong, isn’t it?”

“What’s in it?” Lucy said in horror.

“Ah, I think it might be better if we don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Lockwood, aren't you a little too posh for all this?” she said, waving her hand at the crowd of agents already stumbling over their feet.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Luce. And this is where the people are, after all,” he said, taking another swig and barely holding back a wince.

Although they had only been at the after party for a few minutes, it was already apparent that the only reason the networking event had been more restrained was because the real party was here. The atmosphere was electric; it was so rare for agents to have time to let loose, and everyone seemed intent on taking advantage of the situation by drinking profusely, dancing poorly, and playing games.

Lockwood surveyed the scene, dragging Lucy around to mingle and chat as they observed the party’s various shenanigans. They eventually ended up on the balcony where a group of younger Rotwell and Bunchurch agents were competing to see who could throw salt bombs the farthest.

He knocked his shoulder against hers. “Lucy, you could almost certainly win this competition.”

She hid a smirk in her shoulder. “Maybe later.” 

Eventually, Lockwood managed to locate James, who quickly introduced him to the rest of his team from Tendy’s. They were clustered in a corner catching up, when someone bumped into them, almost making Lucy spill her drink. While she was scowling at the visibly intoxicated agent, Lockwood had a sudden image of her throwing her drink at someone, and he had to stifle a laugh. The party was getting a little chaotic, even for him, so he managed to locate a few empty chairs in a corner out of the action. James and his teammate, Sarah—a girl with a short blonde pixie cut and piercing blue eyes—settled into their seats, leaving one remaining armchair. 

“You can have the chair, Luce,” Lockwood said, leaning against the wall next to her.

“What about you?” she said suspiciously. 

“I’ll stand.” 

“Are you trying to be chivalrous or something?”

“Just take the chair, Lucy.”

“No, then I won’t be able to hear you.” She perched on the edge of the seat. “We can share.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He attempted to squeeze himself on the other side of the armchair next to her, but their elbows kept knocking into each other. 

“Just scoot back, Lockwood,” Lucy said exasperated. Once he was sitting against the back of the chair, Lucy shocked the everloving daylights out of him by draping her legs across his thighs so she was almost sitting in his lap. Lockwood might have imagined it, but the pink spots on Lucy’s cheeks darkened slightly when they made eye contact. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Is this okay? I can move if it’s—”

“Yes,” Lockwood managed to say. “It’s perfectly fine, of course.” 

Fucking hell, he thought, well aware that Lucy was now pressed against him and he’d consumed just enough alcohol to lower his normal defenses. They certainly had never been this close before. This conference was simultaneously once again the best and the worst idea he’d ever had. 

Since he was already in the business of making bad decisions, Lockwood couldn’t stop himself from letting his arm loop around Lucy’s waist, pulling her slightly closer. She slowly relaxed against him before turning back to talk to Sarah, whom she seemed to have struck up an acquaintance with. She somehow seemed unaware that he was about to have a meltdown.

Over the course of the day, no one had questioned his pretend relationship with Lucy; everyone had accepted their status as a couple without blinking an eye. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of James, who was now giving him a broad smirk. Lockwood realized with a sinking feeling that he’d eventually have to endure a line of questions about Lucy he had no idea how to answer. James had never been known for his tact when it came to this type of matter; he’d teased him for months after witnessing his unsuccessful attempts at flirting with Flo after she’d beaten him in the fencing competition years ago.

Thankfully, James spared him for the moment, instead inquiring about the agency. Lockwood proceeded to regale him with tales of some of their more prestigious cases, including that they had recently been awarded agency of the month. The longer the conversation went on, the more Lockwood felt pleasantly fuzzy and warm, although it was unclear how much of it was due to Lucy’s proximity or the very strong punch. 

Eventually, James and Sarah were dragged away by other friends from Tendy’s to play the drinking game set up on the ping pong tables. The dance music was still blaring, and as Lockwood leaned in closer to see if Lucy wanted another drink, Quill Kipps appeared in his line of sight for the second time that day. 

“Well, isn’t this something, Tony,” Kipps said, settling into the now vacant chair next to them. Lockwood resisted the urge to groan.  

“Hello, Kipps.”

Kipps raised an eyebrow as he evaluated their current position. “I didn’t realize when you said together, that you meant together. I take it you two are… dating? How long has this been going on?” 

It was time to see if their full backstory held up to someone they actually knew. Lucy had an underlying expression of panic again, so Lockwood answered for them both. “We’ve been together for a few months.” 

Quill’s ever present sidekicks were standing just behind him again. Kat’s eyes went wide at the news that he and Lucy were dating, and she and Bobby exchanged gleeful looks. Lockwood immediately knew that everyone at the conference—likely everyone in London—would know about his “relationship” with Lucy within a matter of hours. 

That idea brought a brief rush of pride to Lockwood’s chest. Even though it wasn’t true, it was still satisfying to be known as Lucy’s boyfriend. He wondered if he should feel guilty for how much he liked the prospect of them being associated together.  

Maybe you’re just happy the rumors will keep other boys from pursuing Lucy, a traitorous voice in his head said. Lockwood shoved that thought down. No matter how much he wanted her, Lucy didn’t belong to him, and she would be free to do whatever she wanted in less than forty-eight hours.

Kipps gave them another appraising look. “Unsurprising,” he announced. Lucy’s expression immediately showed her confusion, but he waved his hand dismissively at her. “Oh, come on, Carlyle. After the way Tony talked about you at Aickmere’s, it was only a matter of time until this happened.”

Lockwood now regretted every word he had uttered to Kipps as they wandered through that haunted department store. He barely remembered saying anything about Lucy at all—except perhaps expressing passing concern for her and Holly—but apparently he had said enough. 

Unfortunately, Kipps wasn’t done talking. “And the way he went after you, Lucy, when you fell. Thought he was going to punch me if I didn’t let him crawl down there.” 

Lockwood had to admit that that part was true. In that moment, he would have done almost anything if someone had tried to stop him from going after Lucy. George, Holly, and Flo had known him well enough to not even try, and Kipps had quickly realized it was a lost cause. 

Kipps—now truly intent on making sure Lockwood didn’t survive the evening—was somehow still speaking. “But I suppose it all worked out, you two seem to have figured it out.” 

“Yes, we have,” Lockwood fibbed, glancing at Lucy’s now pensive expression. 

“I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything yet about the two of you,” Kipps said. “You know how people talk.” 

Lucy fidgeted slightly, the movement the only thing that revealed the extent of her nervousness, and Lockwood instinctively curled his hand tighter around her waist in response. “It’s still rather recent after all,” he dismissed smoothly.

“Well, since you’re still working as a freelancer, Lucy, I might have a proposition for you,” Kipps said, leaning forward.

“What kind of proposition?” Lucy asked warily. 

Kipps’s eyes flicked over to where Bobby and Kat had drifted off, just out of hearing distance. “We’re still down a team member, and while Kat and Bobby are great, sometimes it’s good to have a fourth person for larger cases.” 

“Fittes doesn’t usually work with freelancers,” Lucy said. 

Kipps shrugged. “But we all know you’re different. Penelope likes you. Always has. And since you keep refusing to come work for her, I’m sure she’d be more than happy to agree to some kind of arrangement.” 

Lockwood could feel the weight of Lucy’s gaze boring into him. The tension between them that had dispelled over the course of the day had abruptly returned. Kipps could always be counted on to somehow ruin a good moment.

To his credit, Kipps immediately picked up on the heaviness in the air. “You wouldn’t mind if Lucy worked with us on a few cases, would you, Tony?”

“That’s not my call. That’s Lucy’s decision,” Lockwood said calmly, finally meeting her eyes and giving her a small nod. 

“I’ll think about it,” Lucy said eventually, biting her lip.  

Kipps nodded. “Do you have a business card so I can get in touch with you?” 

“I don’t right now. This stupid dress doesn’t have pockets—” Lucy started to explain, as Lockwood removed one from his suit jacket and passed it to Kipps. 

“Here you go,” he said with a tight smile. After all, this was what he’d promised Lucy he’d do for her this weekend, and he prided himself on keeping his promises. He cleared his throat. “Luce, do you want another drink?”

“Sure,” she said, getting to her feet. 

Kipps stood as well. “I better go find Kat and Bobby. Fittes will have my hide if anything happens to either of them. Lucy, let’s talk more later this weekend. I’m sure I can make it worth your while.” 

Lockwood inclined his head in Kipps’s direction. “See you around.” 

Lucy turned to face him as soon as they were in line for the bar. “You never told me that about Aickmere’s,” she said. “That Kipps tried to stop you from finding me.”

“Didn’t seem important,” he dismissed. “Clearly, he didn’t succeed.” 

“Well, it sounds like you made quite the fuss.” 

“I was worried about you. Watching you fall…” Lockwood swallowed hard at the memory of the terror he’d felt in that moment. “Well, it looked quite bad, Lucy, and I didn’t know…” if I was ever going to see you alive again, he finished silently, remembering how it felt to have her ripped away from him. Unconsciously, he squeezed her hand harder. 

Lucy seemed to get the idea, even with his sentence unfinished. She put her left hand on his other forearm, so their bodies were linked in a circle. “I’m glad you found me.”

Their gazes met, and the loud party faded away. Lucy’s eyes were soft, more open than Lockwood had seen in months. It was a tiny moment, one of millions they’d had together over the past two years, each insignificant on their own, but that together built into something so much larger. 

“Me too,” Lockwood acknowledged, biting back the rest of the words that he wanted to say—that he couldn’t say. Now that she’d chosen to leave him, he couldn’t promise to always be there for her. 

That realization shook Lockwood out of his stupor, serving to remind him once again where they were, why they were there, and that this—how Lucy was looking at him, the farce they had spent the evening executing, even the way she was touching him—wasn’t real. At least it wasn’t real in the way he wanted it to be. 

He straightened up, breaking their eye contact. Lucy quickly looked away as well, her hands falling away from him and breaking the connection. There it was again: their old routine of two steps forward, one step back. 

Lockwood distracted himself by ordering more punch and taking a large drink. The alcohol burned as it coursed down his throat, as sharp as his jealousy at the idea of Lucy standing at Kipps’s side rather than his own. He was going to have to work twice as hard to make sure Lucy knew there was a superior option waiting for her at Portland Row.

“Mind if we find James again?” he said, jerking his head towards the adjoining suite.

James immediately insisted that the two of them join him and Sarah for a round of beer pong. While the game was new to both of them, Lucy took to beer pong like she took to arguing with George or refusing to listen to his orders—that was, she was a natural. She’d always had good aim, whether she was throwing salt bombs, magnesium flares, a water bottle, or an immaculately crafted snarky comment. It was no surprise she quickly became an expert at perfectly launching ping pong balls into cups of lukewarm Cold Maiden Ale. 

Much to his chagrin, Lockwood’s own skills were lacking at best. They only deteriorated further as the game progressed, and he polished off both his punch and several cups of beer. Lockwood wasn’t sure exactly how many rounds they took part in, but due to Lucy’s prowess, they kept winning, so they kept playing. The party became a hazy blur of loud music, sticky cups, and good natured banter. 

“This was an excellent idea,” Lockwood said breathlessly. 

“You make it sound like you came up with it,” Lucy teased.

“I introduced you to James, didn’t I? And that enabled you to embrace your destiny as a beer pong champion.” 

He swore Lucy was blushing at the compliment. “You aren’t terrible either, Lockwood,” she offered in return, not even bothering to hide her wince as he missed yet another shot, distracted by the sound of her voice.

“Don’t think you have to protect my ego, Luce. This is why I don’t drink before cases,” he said, winking at her. 

“Well, we’re still good teammates,” she said, rolling her eyes and evaluating the few remaining cups with the same intensity she brought to a dangerous haunting. While Lockwood was usually quite competitive, watching Lucy was even more intoxicating than the Rotwell punch. 

I am capable of professionalism, Lockwood told himself sternly, swaying slightly next to Lucy. I am the youngest agency head in London. I run a successful business. I will not be flummoxed by a pretty girl and a drinking game. 

But then Lucy laughed at a joke Sarah made, and Lockwood felt a wide smile crest across his face in response. He consoled himself that Lucy wasn’t the most observant person normally. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

Lucy turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. "Lockwood, it’s your turn. Why are you just staring at me?"

"I'm not staring," he said confidently. 

"You are," she insisted. 

“You totally are, mate,” James interjected, amusement written all over his face. 

Even Sarah laughed. “You’ve been staring at her all night.” 

Lockwood shrugged. “Don’t know what you all are talking about. We should keep the game moving.” He turned quickly back towards the game and tossed the ping pong ball again, immediately bouncing it off the table. 

The rest of the round followed in quick succession, and Lucy once again managed to make an impressive showing. Lockwood gripped her hand as she went for the final shot of the game, both of them holding their breath, before breaking out into cheers as the ping pong ball perfectly landed in the last cup. Lucy yelped in surprise as he threw his arms around her and briefly lifted her off the floor before realizing he was too unsteady for that sort of behavior. 

“Absolutely superb work, Luce!” Lockwood beamed, putting her back down and narrowly avoiding toppling them both over. 

“No thanks to you,” Lucy said, leaning into his side and squinting up at him. “Lockwood, I think you’re drunk. I almost forgot that you’re a terrible lightweight.” 

“What? No, of course I’m not,” he dismissed, trying to hold in a laugh. For the love of God, why did he feel so giggly all of the sudden? He was far more dignified than this.

“You are,” she crowed. “I know how you get!” 

Lockwood frowned at her. It was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open, and the rest of the party was growing increasingly blurry. Except for Lucy, of course; for the first time in a long time, she was solid, real, and within arm’s reach. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t you remember last New Year’s Eve?” 

He swallowed. “Of course I remember.” 

How could he forget? Their case had been canceled at the last minute so they had decided to celebrate instead. While George cooked a feast, he and Lucy had rifled through the neglected remnants of his parent’s liquor cabinet. While Lockwood had had a few drinks before, that night was the first and only time he’d been properly drunk. All three of them had all gotten rather sloppy, and they’d spent the evening singing along to old records, reminiscing about their most ridiculous cases, and joking about silly resolutions for the year ahead.   

After the clock had struck midnight, George had gone up to bed, leaving him sprawled on the library floor with Lucy. Lockwood couldn’t remember what they’d talked about—likely nothing of importance—but it was the first time he’d found himself looking at Lucy, wondering desperately what it would be like to kiss her.  

In the moment, Lockwood had chalked those feelings up to temporary insanity as a result of the quantity of alcohol flowing through his bloodstream. But then the thought had crept in again the next day as they all nursed their hangovers with breakfast butties and copious amounts of orange juice. Lucy was grouchy and tired, but he’d still caught himself stealing glances at her lips.

Since that night, the urge had never properly gone away. And now, just over a year later, it was somehow stronger than ever before. 

“Lockwood?” Lucy said, frowning at him as she waved a hand in his face. “Hello? You’re staring at me again. And if that’s not a sign that you’re drunk, I don’t know what is.” 

At least being drunk is a good excuse for what I want to do all the time, he thought, catching Lucy’s hand and absentmindedly interlacing her fingers with his own. “Hmm, maybe you’re right,” he said, smiling at her as he swung their hands back and forth.

Lucy snorted in amusement. “I’m definitely right.” 

“Luce.” Lockwood forgot again that they were at a crowded party, his world narrowing in on her. “Sometimes I wonder why…”

“What?” she said, quirking an eyebrow at him. 

Lockwood tugged her closer, her front almost touching his as he brushed a lock of hair out of her face with his other hand. He let his fingers slide to tangle in her hair, as he met her eyes. Lucy’s face was turned up towards his, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the crowded room. 

The moment felt thick and heavy, and Lockwood wanted to say all the things that had haunted him for the past three months. I wonder why I’ve never kissed you when I’ve wanted to hundreds of times. I wonder why you left and if I scared you off because it’s so obvious that I’m terrified to lose you. I wonder if anything I do will ever be enough to get you to come back to me.

At that last thought, Lockwood caught himself. He carefully stepped away and let go of Lucy. “Lost my train of thought. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, her voice slightly wobbly. He wondered if she was feeling the alcohol more than she let on. She abruptly turned away from him. “Let’s go.” 

They quickly bid James and Sarah goodnight after making promises to meet up again the following day. Lockwood tried very hard to act nonchalant as they left the party, but as soon as they were in the hallway, he felt Lucy slip her arm around his waist. He gratefully slung an arm around her shoulder, immediately feeling more stable 

They dodged a group of agents dueling in the hallway, and even in his current state, their technique made Lockwood cringe. “I can’t believe that’s what’s passing as rapier training these days.”

“I’m guessing that they’re better when they haven’t been drinking all night,” Lucy said.

“I could do better, and I’ve been drinking all night.” 

“Well, we'll never know because there’s no way you are getting anywhere near a blade right now. I’ll fight you myself if I have to.” 

“Don’t tempt me, Luce,” he laughed. “That sounds fun.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” 

“How is it that I’m so much taller and you seem far more sober?” Lockwood pondered, as they entered the lift, still leaning against each other.

“Because you can’t hold your liquor clearly.”

“That doesn’t seem quite fair,” he pouted. 

“It’s because you’re the soft, posh Southerner who gets way too excited at parties.” 

He let out another laugh as they exited the lift and stumbled down the hall. It turned out that walking in a straight line was almost impossible for him at the moment. Perhaps Lucy had a point after all. “We both know that’s ridiculous.” 

“Do you even know how many drinks you had tonight?” 

“Too many?” he offered, blinking at the bright lights.

“Well, that’s obvious.”

Lockwood hummed in agreement, letting his head fall against hers. Lucy had a very distinctive scent, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until that very moment. It suddenly became urgently important that he figure out what it was. He indulged himself in discretely smelling her hair. Was it some type of citrus perhaps? Or floral? He took another sniff just to be certain.

Lucy pulled away from him slightly and gave him an odd look. "What are you doing, Lockwood?" she said. “Are you smelling me?”

"No," he lied, trying his best to muster a charming smile.

She glared at him in return.

"Okay," he caved, starting to laugh again. "You just smell good—it must be your shampoo or something.” 

“That is so weird—” Lucy said, a laugh bursting out of her as she pushed the door to their room open.  

Neither of them were prepared for the horror that awaited them, their laughter dying immediately. The hotel had finally brought up the cot, but it was clearly child sized and only ⅔ the length of his tall frame. The sight of it was like a bucket of ice water thrown over their warm evening.

Lucy gaped at him. “Lockwood, you can’t sleep on that.”

“It will be fine,” Lockwood said cheerfully, already wondering what state his back would be in in the morning. “If not, well, there’s always the floor. It’s not as if I’m sober, as you’ve so kindly pointed out.” 

Lucy eyed the thin rug. “That’s not better, Lockwood.” 

“Lucy, I insist.” He flashed her his most persuasive smile. 

“You should take the bed. I can fit on the cot.” 

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly, trying his best to summon his authoritative team leader voice although the slight slurring of his words ruined some of the effect. “That’s not an option. You’ll take the bed as we discussed, since I’m the reason why we’re in this situation.” 

Lucy gave him a distrustful look, but didn’t protest further. While she got ready for bed in the bathroom, Lockwood waited patiently, draping himself on the desk chair and staring at the ceiling. He still felt like he was floating, his limbs soft and loose. 

A few moments later, Lucy hurried out of the bathroom in her pajamas. After dumping her discarded dress on top of her duffle bag, she practically launched herself into the bed.

Lockwood closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Lucy being in her pajamas shouldn’t be a problem. He’d seen it a million times before after all—but it felt different here, when he was going to have to sleep in the same room as her. 

They weren’t even new pajamas, which somehow made it worse. They were the same gray pajamas Lucy had always worn around Portland Row. Objectively, Lockwood knew they weren’t particularly attractive as far as nightclothes went, but they reminded him of eating breakfast with her sitting next to him every morning and cozy nights sharing the sofa in the library. Suddenly, Lockwood had a vivid flashback to the time Lucy’s laundry had gotten mixed up with his, and he’d had to separate all of their clothing (the pajamas had been the least problematic items during that clothing exchange, and they had both been left blushing). 

“Are you alright, Lockwood?” Lucy asked curiously. The neckline of her top was stretched out, and it had fallen slightly askew, partially revealing the bare skin of her shoulder and collarbone.

He steadfastly avoided her eyes, fearing she’d know exactly what he’d been thinking. “I’m fine, just a bit…” 

“Drunk?” she offered, smirking at him. 

Lockwood rubbed his face. “Yeah, that. Or something. I guess.” Quickly, he ducked into the bathroom to change into his own striped pajamas and brush his teeth. He splashed cold water on his face and gave himself a pep talk as he chugged another glass of water, helping that would help him sober up. He just had to share a room with Lucy for these two nights. Everything would be fine. 

Perhaps if he said it enough times it would be true. Or he’d slowly go insane from her proximity. There were only two options.

With that decided, Lockwood slipped back out of the bathroom. “Luce? Okay if I turn the light off?”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Lockwood.” Her voice was muffled and he could barely see her face, as she was practically buried in a cocoon of fluffy blankets and pillows. 

“Night.” 

Now Lockwood faced his other challenge for the evening: the cot. He eyed it suspiciously once again before inelegantly flopping down on the surface. Even worse than he expected. 

Lockwood tossed and turned trying to contort his body into a shape that would fit. If only he could fold himself in half like a piece of paper or a human origami, he’d be able to make it work. His mind wandered briefly. Was human origami just yoga? Perhaps he should work on improving his flexibility. 

Lockwood shifted again in an attempt to get comfortable. Not only was the cot the appropriate size for him when he’d been ten years old, it was also lumpy and as hard as a rock. Maybe he could build a fort with all the extra pillows and sleep like that. That was a promising back up option. He had just decided to try letting his feet and calves hang off the cot entirely, when he heard Lucy audibly sigh. 

“Lockwood.”

“Sorry, am I keeping you awake?” he said, popping his head up too quickly and regretting it immensely as the room started to tilt around him. Quick movements were a very bad idea at the moment.

“No. Well, sort of. It’s just—” Lockwood could hear the hesitation in her tone as she continued speaking. “This bed is huge, and I already feel guilty that you’re paying more than me to be here. We can share.”

“Lucy…” Lockwood closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with his fingers, hoping it would make the room stop spinning. “I’m quite fine here.”

There were so many reasons why sharing a bed was a bad idea, and he started mentally listing them off. 

Reason #1: Lucy was sleeping in the bed. 

Lockwood could have stopped right there, but instead he continued, additional points quickly accumulating.

Reason #2: His feelings for Lucy had long transcended the bounds of anything he could reasonably describe as platonic or professional.  

Reason #3: He was definitely not sober, making his capacity for self-control and self-denial far lower than normal.

Reason #4: Try as he might out of respect for Lucy, even thinking about being in the same bed as her and keeping his thoughts in innocent territory was becoming increasingly challenging. This scenario was entirely too close to a dream he’d once had where—no, he was not allowed to think about that, not when the real Lucy was right there—

Before he could get to Reason #5, she spoke again. “Lockwood. I know you sleep terribly on a normal night. Don’t lie to me, and don’t make me offer again. Just come up here.” 

Lockwood let out a small groan; he was well acquainted enough with Lucy’s stubbornness to know that she wouldn’t let the issue go until he gave in. While he could keep arguing with her, that certainly wouldn’t contribute to his goal of staying on her good side, and they were both far too drunk to have a rational conversation.

She was going to be the death of him—but at least he wouldn’t go out twisted into the shape of a Chelsea bun. 

“Fine. But only because you insist.” Lockwood stood up and stumbled over the bed, still lacking his usual grace. As he gingerly slid between the sheets, the mattress dipped slightly under his weight. He tried to stay as far away from Lucy as possible as he sank into the fluffy duvet. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she said, still facing away from him. 

“Not at all,” he acknowledged, unable to hold back a sigh at being able to fully stretch out his legs. The mattress was shockingly comfortable after the cramped cot, even though the room was still spinning slightly. “You’re sure this is okay?”

Lucy sighed again. “Yes, Lockwood. It’s fine. It’s not like we’re—” She stopped abruptly, and an awkward silence stretched out between them. 

Lockwood wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the rest of that sentence would have been. It’s not like we’re actually together? It’s not like we’re attracted to each other? It’s not like we’re wishing this was real?

Well, that last one was probably just him. 

“Right,” Lockwood confirmed, acutely aware that Lucy was less than an arm’s length away from him. 

He could hear Lucy fidgeting slightly, the sheets rustling again with her movements. “Well, goodnight then,” she announced.

“Sleep well, Luce.” 

As Lockwood heard Lucy’s breath even out and slowly deepen, he stared at the ceiling, shadows splashing across it from the small bit of light filtering in through the curtains. Now convinced Lucy was asleep, he ventured a glance at the back of her head, her hair strewn out across the pillow. She was curled in on herself, almost as if she was cold, her hand clutched in the duvet. The tag was sticking out from the top of her pajamas above her twisted shirt collar. 

If they had been sharing a bed under more pleasant circumstances, he wouldn’t have hesitated to reach out and tuck the tag in for her or to smooth her hair back. But of course he couldn’t do any of those things.

This weekend was rapidly becoming an exquisite kind of torture. He could touch Lucy—Christ, she’d been sitting on his lap earlier—but only in public when it didn’t matter. And now, here, in quite possibly the most private situation they had ever been in together, he couldn’t even hold her hand.

Lockwood wanted to groan again. He was already regretting the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, and this was going to be a very long night. 

In an attempt to distract himself from tortuous thoughts related to Lucy, Lockwood tried to force a familiar nighttime ritual. He ran through his plans for the weekend again, as well as the steps in his plan to win Lucy back. Night had always been his time for scheming and plotting, the darkness giving him the rare glimpses of solace he rarely found during the day. 

Unsurprisingly, however, given his current state, his mind kept going back to Lucy. Lockwood’s eyes darted back to her. She was still breathing steadily, and she had shifted in her sleep, rolling over so she was facing him. Now they were even closer together. He found himself unabashedly staring at her yet again, her long eyelashes fanning out over her cheeks and her hair messy from sleep. Here she was: the girl he’d spent the past three months longing for.

Lucy was so close that he could reach out and touch her. She was so far away that he didn’t dare.

When Lockwood woke up a couple hours later, still feeling woozy and not quite sober, Lucy’s side of the bed was empty. Light was streaming out of the bathroom, and he heard muffled coughing noises.

He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his face as he yawned. “Luce? You okay?”

The bathroom door was ajar, and as he suspected, Lucy was hunched over the toilet. “Ugh,” she groaned, clearly shivering. “Is okay another way to say absolutely miserable?”

“Oh, Lucy.” Lockwood knelt on the ground next to her and put a comforting hand on her arm. 

“Why did you let me play that awful game?”

“I’d like to see you try to stop yourself from doing something when your mind is made up.” 

“I’m gross,” she croaked, giving him a pathetic look. “What are you even doing in here?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m taking care of you,” Lockwood said, searching for a flannel and then running it under cool water before passing it to her. “And you could never be gross.” 

“What about that case in the sewers?” Lucy said, wrinkling her brow before burying her face in the wet cloth. “That was disgusting. I had to throw out all my clothes.”

“It was, but that was the sewers, not you,” he said, sitting next to her again. 

“I hardly see the difference—” She started to protest again, but then had to stop, clearly nauseous. “Oh no,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Lockwood said soothingly, moving to hold her hair back out of her face while she vomited. He continued rubbing soft circles into her back as she breathed heavily. “How are you feeling now? Any better?” 

She slumped back against his shoulder, but gave him a weak nod before wiping her face again. “I’m never playing drinking games again, Lockwood.” 

“Well, you should have some water, alright?” He stood and fetched a cup of water for her. Lucy drank it and brushed her teeth before deeming herself fit to go back to sleep. 

Lockwood helped her off the cold floor and then guided her back into bed before crawling in next to her. This time, they both somehow ended up in the middle of the mattress facing each other.

“Lockwood,” Lucy said, her face pale in the darkness. “You didn’t have to do all that—but thank you.” 

“Of course.” Lockwood reached a hand out to hers, and Lucy surprised him by squeezing it back. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer at that point and scooted closer to her and held out an arm. “You seem cold?” he offered weakly. It was a flimsy excuse, but at least it was an excuse if she turned away from him again.

But if anything, Lucy seemed relieved, and she crawled straight into his embrace. “I am,” she murmured, her voice lost somewhere near his shoulder, as she curled against his side.

Lockwood almost yelped when her icy cold feet pressed against his bare calves where his pajama bottoms had ridden up. “Christ, Lucy, you are cold.” He rubbed both of his hands up and down her arms. “Let’s get you warmed up.” 

“Stupid beer pong,” she muttered, burrowing closer as she loosely draped her arm over his waist. 

He laughed into her hair, feeling infinitely more steady with her resting in his arms. “Time for rest so you can sleep this off.”

“G’night,” Lucy mumbled before quickly drifting off again. This time, Lockwood followed her almost immediately, their arms still wound around each other.

Chapter Text

When Lockwood woke up the next morning, he was immediately aware of two things. 

First, Lucy was still next to him, his arm holding her against his side. Tucked this close to her, Lockwood could see every freckle dusted across her cheeks. If he wanted to—and he was tempted—he could count every single one of her eyelashes.

Second, he was very, very hungover. His head was throbbing, his throat was dry, and he felt nauseous. He was in desperate need of water, paracetamol, and food—not necessarily in that order. Based on Lucy’s behavior the night before, she was likely in the same position. 

The last thing Lockwood wanted to do was get out of bed when she was so close to him, but food wasn’t going to magically appear. And given how complicated their relationship was at the moment, perhaps it was better if they didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of waking up tangled together.

Taking care to not disturb Lucy, he gently eased himself away from her. He stumbled into the bathroom, took a quick shower, changed into a fresh button down and trousers, and slipped out of their room. When he returned a short time later, Lucy was awake, still curled up in bed.

“Hey, Luce,” Lockwood said, carefully balancing two cups in his hands, as he pushed the door shut behind him with his foot. His voice was still rough from the night before.

“Hi,” Lucy yawned, blinking at him sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“Just wanted to get us some provisions. Here’s some orange juice,” he said, passing her one of the cups as she sat up. “Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but I talked someone into giving me these.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully.

Lockwood dug in his pocket and produced a blister pack of paracetamol. “Would you like some of this, too?” 

“Please.”

Lockwood sat back on the bed next to her to drink his own juice. “How are you feeling?” 

“If throwing up in the middle of the night wasn’t any indication, I’ve been better,” Lucy said wryly. “You?” 

“Quite hungover,” he admitted, letting his head fall back against the bedframe.

“And whose fault is that?” she asked, making a face at him.

“Yours, at least in part. If you hadn’t been so good at beer pong, we wouldn’t have stayed at the party that long or drank so much.” 

“You were the one who wanted to go to the party in the first place!” she said indignantly. 

“Well, now, I’m never drinking again,” he said solemnly, flashing her a lopsided grin. 

“Liar,” Lucy said, gulping down the rest of her juice, before closing her eyes and slumping down again. “You’ve said that before, remember?” 

Lockwood hummed. “Only time will tell.” 

As he and Lucy continued to reminisce about the party from their respective sides of the bed, the domestic nature of their circumstances began to sink in. While they’d slept in the same bed the night before, Lockwood hadn’t been able to fully appreciate their situation until just now. His eyes roamed over Lucy’s supine form, still buried under the cloud of the duvet. Even when they lived together, he’d rarely—if ever—seen her relaxed in bed like this.  

Without realizing it, Lockwood let the conversation lapse, and a moment later, Lucy's eyes cracked open. Quickly, he realized she’d probably caught him staring at her—again—and he tore his gaze away. 

“I already showered, if you want to use the bathroom,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I probably should.” Lucy gave a dramatic sigh as she pulled herself out from the tangle of blankets and traipsed into the bathroom. 

Lockwood let his head fall back again, getting a few more moments of rest in the relative darkness, before rousing himself to fuss with his hair until Lucy was ready to head to breakfast.

While Lucy was waylaid by a contact from a freelance case, Lockwood gathered heaping plates for both of them filled with eggs, sausage, and toast buttered just the way she liked it. Once she joined him, they sketched out a rough plan for the day while they ate and had their first cups of tea. 

Saturday was the only full day of the conference, and Lockwood was determined to make it count. The morning and early afternoon were packed full of additional sessions, then there were some optional activities, including a rapier demonstration and a vender hall. That evening, the ball would be held in the estate’s immaculately preserved formal ballroom. 

Most importantly, after getting a bit carried away the previous evening, Lockwood knew he needed to focus today. After all, he still had people to meet, and while it seemed like the after party had gone a long way in rebuilding the camaraderie between him and Lucy, he was still in the early stages of his plan to get her back. Don’t get distracted now, he urged himself. 

While breakfast helped take the edge off of Lockwood’s hangover, the first session of the day on Team Leadership still passed by in a haze. This session was one of the few he and Lucy planned to attend together. As they settled into their seats, the bright lights made him wince, and Lockwood quickly found his sunglasses in his pocket and slid them on.

Lucy gave him a weird look. “What are those for?” 

“Death glow right over there,” he fibbed, running a hand through his hair.

Lucy barely choked back a laugh. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, her breath ghosting across the side of his face. “Sure it doesn’t have anything to do with your terrible hangover?” 

“Nothing at all,” he insisted, mustering a grin. 

After Lucy’s teasing about his hangover, Lockwood felt incredibly validated when she was the one who nodded off during the final minutes of their session, her head lolling against his shoulder. While he considered waking her up, he was reluctant to disturb her after realizing how perfectly her head fit against his shoulder. If anything, he was tempted to join her in taking a nap.

He finally nudged her awake as the people around them started to file out. “It’s break time, Luce,” he said softly. 

“Hmm,” Lucy murmured, before slowly rousing herself to stand and stretch.  

“More tea?” he offered.

“Yeah,” she said, yawning again. “I’m going to need caffeine to make it through the rest of the morning.” 

Once they both had steaming cups of tea in their hands, Lockwood guided them to a sofa in an out of the way spot down the hall, desperate for some quiet. He massaged his forehead again, trying to will his hangover to abate.

Lucy shot him an exasperated look. “Lockwood, we have almost a half hour until the next session. Why don’t you take some more paracetamol and rest for a bit?”

“It’s not worth it,” he dismissed. “There’s not enough time to go upstairs.”

“Why not nap here? We’ve both kipped in far stranger places on jobs. You can lean against me if you need to.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her offer. “You don’t mind?” 

Lucy shrugged, but he thought he saw her cheeks start to flush. “It’s no different from what I did earlier—or what we did last night. We’re playing a part anyway this weekend, aren’t we?”

“We are.” Lockwood felt a twist low in his stomach that had nothing to do with the quantity of alcohol he’d consumed. Clearly Lucy didn’t mean this offer as anything more than part of their scheme. Regardless, he wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to be close to her—or for a nap. 

Lockwood downed the rest of his tea and scooted in, slouching to let his head rest against her shoulder. While he needed to go network, Lucy was right. They had a long day ahead of them, and he’d be in much better shape for it if he could kick this hangover. Lucy’s jumper was soft against his cheek, and he marveled again at how right it felt being this close to her as they both shifted to settle into a comfortable position. 

For the moment, even if their relationship wasn’t real, it felt real. Maybe that was enough.

Lockwood woke from his nap feeling refreshed, and he and Lucy headed off to their respective sessions. By the time lunch arrived, the worst of his hangover had faded, he’d managed to do more networking, and Lucy seemed cheerier when they met back up in the dining hall. The day was looking up.

Lockwood even managed to convince James to join him and Lucy so they could properly catch up. They proceeded to spend most of lunch getting updates on James’s recent tenure at Tendy’s and reminiscing about their time with Gravedigger. While Lucy didn’t say much, she seemed curious as he and James swapped stories. Lockwood tossed her an apologetic look, hoping she wasn’t bored. Although if he knew Lucy—and he liked to think that he did—she was usually incapable of pretending to be polite if her heart wasn’t in it. 

Eventually, James changed the subject. “Sarah liked hanging out with you a lot, Lucy,” he said happily. “She told me so this morning.” 

Lucy gave him a small smile in return from her spot next to Lockwood. “She was fun.”

“She’s great,” James said enthusiastically. “Really great.” He cleared his throat. “Actually, on that note, I had a question for you two.”

Lockwood’s interest was piqued. “Go on.” 

James cast a furtive look around and lowered his voice. “See, I quite fancy Sarah, but it’s a bit complicated since we’re on the same team. I know you’ve been in that situation, so I was wondering how you two handled it.” He looked at them hopefully.  

“Yeah, Lockwood, how did we figure it out?” Lucy said, with false sweetness. 

“Well,” Lockwood said, stalling for time as he silently cursed James for bringing this topic up in front of Lucy. “I suppose we were friends first—like you and Sarah. But our situation was different since we didn’t have supervisors to contend with like you do. Since it’s my agency, I get to make the rules, and we figured it out.” 

“You weren’t worried about ruining your friendship by bringing up the subject?” James asked.

Lockwood’s eyes flicked to Lucy. He couldn’t read her expression. He ran his hand through his hair, unwilling to lie to James more than strictly necessary. Perhaps a sort of honesty was the best policy. “Of course I was. I was worried about ruining everything—our friendship, our working dynamic. I was worried about making Lucy feel uncomfortable because of the power dynamics of our relationship.” He thought then of those days after Aickmere’s and all the things he’d wanted to confess to Lucy. The regrets he still carried. They were pretending this weekend, weren’t they? Maybe he could let a bit of the truth slip through. “But Lucy was too important. I decided it was worth the risk.” 

James nodded slowly before he turned to Lucy. “Lucy,” he said. “How did you feel about all of this? I’m still trying to figure out how Sarah feels about me.”

“James,” Lockwood interrupted quickly, “you don’t need to interrogate Lucy. You’ve only just met after all.” 

“It’s okay,” Lucy said. She bit her lip and hesitated before answering. “I suppose what Lockwood said is correct. It all happened gradually. One day, I just realized things felt… different between us. Not much else to say.” 

James’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “Any advice?”

Lucy fidgeted in her seat slightly, giving her nervousness away. “I’ll let Lockwood answer that. I need to take care of something.” She excused herself and headed across the dining hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Lockwood saw her start talking to Kipps. The pit of jealousy in his stomach was back again. 

“Well, she’s certainly your type, Lockwood,” James said brightly once Lucy was gone.

Lockwood’s eyes snapped back to him. “Why do you say that?”

James rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “Come off it—a girl like that? Smart, strong, funny? Reckon she’s a force in the field. Of course you like her. And I’ve seen the way you look at her—and the way she looks at you.” 

“What do you mean the way Lucy looks at me?” Lockwood asked before he could stop himself, recalling a similar comment George had once made so long ago. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t notice that she’s constantly looking at you like she adores you.” James barked out a laugh. “The Lockwood I knew would have been unbearable about that sort of attention. Not that you’re any better with her. If anything, you’re worse. You haven’t stopped looking in Lucy’s direction all weekend, Lockwood.”   

“Yes,” Lockwood allowed, his mind swirling with the potential implications. “We haven’t really spent much time together recently. I suppose I’ve missed her.” Just then, Lockwood saw Lucy part ways with Kipps, so he quickly told James goodbye before heading her way again.

As they walked together to their afternoon session, Lockwood sent Lucy a sidelong look. “Thanks for lunch, Luce. I hope James and I didn’t bore you with all the talk about the old days.”

“No, of course not,” she said, looking surprised. “It was nice to hear about that time of your life. I’ve never heard you really mention it before.” 

Lockwood was dying to ask her what she’d been talking to Kipps about, but decided to bide his time. “You got into character rather quickly just now,” he said instead. “With James.” 

“Oh.” Lucy looked down at her feet again. “I suppose it isn’t difficult to imagine. What it would be like to develop feelings for a colleague. In a hypothetical sense.” 

“Right,” he agreed, his heart sinking. He didn’t know what else he’d expected her to say. “What's your next session again?” 

“Visitor Classification Theory. Yours?”

“HR,” Lockwood said, offering her a grimace as they separated. 

It only took two minutes of the session on Human Resources for Lockwood to be reminded once again that Lockwood & Co. lacked any sort of personal or professional boundaries. 

He could only imagine what these stuffy speakers would have to say about the situation he had engineered this weekend with Lucy. Using a professional conference as an excuse to convince a former employee/housemate/friend to return to work for his company was certainly something that would make these professionals tear their hair out. 

Add in the room mishap that had led to them sharing a bed on top of it all? Dear Lord, he’d give them a heart attack.

And that was without even considering George’s penchant for doing naked yoga. 

As the speakers continued their presentation, Lockwood found his mind drifting to other business matters. Could he afford to give George that professional development budget he was going on about? More urgently, George and Holly deserved more time off. They all deserved more time off—especially with the relentless pace he had insisted on this winter. If they received a fraction of the uptick in cases he was hoping for after this weekend, they were truly going to be in dire straits without an additional agent. 

Even more so than professional concerns, Lockwood found himself fixating on the image of Lucy’s toothbrush beside his on the marble bathroom counter and her dress hanging up next to his suit in their shared closet. After months of separation, he still felt like he was trying to soak up every bit of her proximity that he could.

While he normally prided himself on his ability to keep his composure, this arrangement with her was increasingly making him feel off kilter—especially after what James had said at lunch. The longer they were here in this strange alternate universe, the less it felt like they were pretending. The boundaries of their relationship had never been messier, and he was slipping into this imaginary role like it was second nature.  

The weekend was also now halfway over, and Lucy wasn’t exactly begging to come back to Lockwood & Co. He was going to have to carefully continue to push the boundaries of their agreement. 

Twenty minutes into the session, Lockwood shook his head, decided that he was beyond help at the moment and snuck out of the room to find Lucy. Whatever lecture she was in had to be a better use of his time. 

He slipped into the open seat next to her in the Ghost Classification Theory session. Unlike most of Lucy’s other practical sessions, this one was theoretical. It was likely the only session from the entire conference that George would have been excited to attend. 

And Lockwood had arrived at precisely the right moment: the speakers lining the front of the room were currently debating about the existence of Type Three’s, as they discussed other Visitors that didn’t easily fit into established categories. 

“Are there truly Type Threes? Are we really to believe that any Visitors are capable of intelligent communication?” said a man with a large mustache wearing a tweed jacket, as he waved his hands dramatically. 

Lockwood glanced down at Lucy’s notebook. In the midst of her scribbles about the session were her usual doodles, including a near perfect rendering of the skull in the jar pulling a face and screaming. 

“What would our friend think about this session?” he whispered in Lucy’s ear as he tapped on her sketch.

“You aren’t friends,” Lucy whispered back. 

“I forgot he’s only your buddy.” 

“He’s not my buddy,” she said hotly, just a bit too loud, causing the people sitting in front of them to turn around and shush them. Lockwood barely stifled a laugh as he flashed Lucy a lopsided grin. 

She swatted him on the arm as they left the session together. “You’re going to get me kicked out of the conference!” 

“I’m certain you could manage that on your own,” Lockwood said cheerfully. “I’ll just be here to talk them down when it happens.” Lucy glowered at him, and he couldn’t help laughing at her fierce expression as he reached for her hand. “Come on, Luce, the rapier demo is starting soon.”   

“Rapier demo?” Lucy said skeptically. “What exactly are you expecting to learn?”

“Nothing. But it’s time to practice,” he said persuasively as he dragged her off to the large room that had been set up for rapier practice. 

While there were some instructors from Fittes demonstrating basic moves, Lockwood immediately ignored them, instead gesturing to the side where practice mats were set up and groups of agents were going through drills together.

Lucy sighed. “Do you ever take a day off from training?” 

“You know the answer to that. Also, this conference—it’s more sitting still than I’m used to,” Lockwood admitted. In truth, he felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. 

“So what you’re saying is you need to stab something?” Lucy smirked up at him, and Lockwood felt his heart pound. “Is that the newest hangover cure?” 

“Exactly,” Lockwood confirmed, smiling brightly at her in return. “Let’s show them how it’s done, Luce?” He winked at her as he drew his rapier and gestured for her to do the same. 

They both took their stances at opposite ends of the mat. Lockwood was pleased to see that Lucy was still using the Spanish rapier he had purchased for her last summer. 

As their swords met, it felt like time had rewinded, like the past three months hadn’t existed at all. Once they had rapiers in their hands, everything slid into place, as they began a seamless routine they had executed so many times before. They circled each other, blades clashing as they feinted and dodged. 

While his technique surpassed hers, Lucy had always been able to surprise him when her competitive side came out, and Lockwood found himself grinning at the adrenaline rush. 

He let Lucy go on the offensive, although he easily dodged each slash of her rapier. When Lucy leaned on her back foot before she lunged forward, he parried the blow easily, much to her annoyance.

“How do you always know?” she said exasperated, as she stepped back again. 

“You have your tells, of course,” he responded, flicking his wrist and blocking her again. 

“Like what?” she huffed, her breath growing heavier. 

“That,” Lockwood said, laughing as she leaned on her back foot again for the third time. 

Lucy narrowed her eyes, and Lockwood couldn’t resist smirking at her as he moved forward.

When Lucy got frustrated, sometimes she got sloppy, which Lockwood was prepared for. However, while he knew Lucy’s tells like the back of his hand, he was not prepared for her to get impatient and throw technique out of the window entirely. Clearly annoyed at how their training was progressing, Lucy tried some complicated footwork, but instead of disarming him, she ended up stumbling into him. They fell in a painful heap together on the floor. Lockwood landed halfway on top of her, her hand pressed against his ribs. 

“Ow,” she complained. “God, Lockwood.”

Lockwood should have been annoyed that she’d gotten one up on him—even unintentionally—and that she’d done it in a public place, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. A laugh bubbled up in his chest. “You’re the one who did this, Luce,” he said, wheezing as he attempted to untangle their legs without either of them getting sliced by a blade.

“That doesn’t change that you’re basically stabbing me with your elbow,” she groaned.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, unable to stop laughing. He finally managed to scramble to his feet and offered her a hand. “I’ve missed you so much, Lucy.”

She raised an eyebrow, as he hoisted her off the ground, their eyes meeting again. “George and Holly not cutting it as your practice partners?” 

Lucy was still very close to him, their rapiers abandoned on the ground. Lockwood let out a long breath and simultaneously released his hold on her. Dear Lord, he thought, closing his eyes. This weekend is going to be the death of me. 

“They aren’t you,” he said instead.

The two of them continued to good-naturedly bicker about who had won their practice round as they entered the vendor hall. It was a sprawling room, full of booths of the various suppliers and agencies that were attending the conference. 

Unsurprisingly, Fittes had the largest booth of the entire event. It was perfectly polished and professional, made up of tables draped in shades of gray and emblazoned with their unicorn logo with prominently located tall stacks of Fittes manuals free for the taking.

Meanwhile, across the way at Rotwell’s, everything was loud and bombastic. A life size photo of Steve Rotwell was splashed across their backdrop, and there was a giant, cardboard cutout of Roger, Rotwell’s cartoon lion mascot, available for photos. At their second booth dedicated to their various ghost fighting paraphernalia, there were endless tubs of free event swag. In Lockwood’s opinion, it was quite gauche.

Lockwood made mental notes about how the other agencies were presenting themselves and filed that information away for a later date. His true focus was on the vendors. There was an entire section of suppliers—lavender and salt and iron chains and various silver defenses. He and Lucy both snagged a few sample size sachets of lavender as they continued further into the room.  

Lucy nodded as the booths of uniform vendors. “Glad you never bothered with those,” she admitted. “I hated the uniforms at Jacob’s.” 

“Well, uniforms aren’t really fitting for an independent agency, are they?” he frowned. “Also, I could never convince George to wear a uniform again once he’d left Fittes.” 

Lockwood’s eyes lit up as he spotted the booths he was most excited about, and he practically dragged Lucy over to the exhibits of top of the line Spanish, French, and Italian rapiers. There were models here Mullet’s didn’t carry—some that were brand new releases made with the finest craftsmanship. Lockwood could have stayed there all day, as he tested the feel of the various rapiers and interrogated the salesmen about the various pros and cons of different models, but Lucy’s attention span didn’t last long. 

Clearly bored, she drifted away from him to the nearby Satchell’s booth and picked up a small notebook emblazoned with their logo, meant for tracking temperature readings. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Lockwood saw another boy in a Satchell’s shirt, perhaps a couple years older than him, immediately start talking to Lucy. The salesman peered at her nametag. “You’re Lucy Carlyle? I’ve heard about you,” he said appraisingly. 

“Oh,” Lucy said, jolting with surprise. 

“Yes,” the salesman said, looking Lucy up and down. “Of course I’ve heard of you! You’re one of the best Listeners in London, aren’t you?” 

The best Listener, Lockwood thought, suddenly finding it very difficult to focus on his own conversation.

“At Satchell’s, we have some new products. These are our newest flares—top of the line magnesium, really powerful stuff. Come this way, and I’ll show you.” 

At that, Lockwood said his goodbyes, handed over his card, and strode over to join Lucy.  

“I would love to take you out for coffee and tell you more,” the Satchell’s salesman was saying as he gave Lucy another slimy smile. 

Oh, I’m sure he would, Lockwood thought grimly, as he stepped up to Lucy’s side.

“And who are you?” the Satchell’s salesman said, giving him a quick once over, his smile faltering.

“Anthony Lockwood, of Lockwood & Co. And Lucy’s boyfriend,” he said pointedly. To Lucy’s credit, she no longer looked panicked when he used the word boyfriend. A promising development, if he’d ever seen one. 

To further get the point across, Lockwood draped an arm around Lucy’s shoulder. “Lucy, darling, let’s get some air, shall we?” She jumped at the new term of endearment, turning to stare at him. “Excuse us,” he said cheerfully, as the salesman’s expression turned sour.

“Darling?” Lucy hissed, as he quickly steered her towards the door and away from the Satchell’s booth.

Lockwood shrugged. “Had to make it seem real.” Never mind that it had rolled off his tongue like it was what he called her everyday. “Would you prefer a different pet name? I’m open to suggestions. Love? Sweetheart?”

Lucy wrinkled her nose at him. “Ugh.”

“Sunshine? My precious?” he teased, giving her a wink. 

“Lockwood,” she groaned. “How do these keep getting worse?” 

“Babe?” he offered, adopting an exaggerated American accent. 

She gave him a sharp look. “Should have known you’d find an excuse for an accent. No thank you.” 

“I’ll stick with darling then?”

Lucy elbowed him in the side. “If you’re going to insist on calling me something besides my name, I suppose darling is the best option. But I don’t understand why any of that was necessary.” 

“Come on, Luce. That salesman was flirting with you.” They were almost through all the booths now, and Lockwood decided he was quite done with the vendor hall for the day.

“Flirting?” She wrinkled her nose. “No, he was just telling me about some new flares.”

Once again, Lucy hadn’t changed at all. She had always been oblivious to flirting—especially from him—and he’d had to sit by in the past and not mention it, given his professional capacity as her employer. It was strangely satisfying to now be able to speak more frankly. 

“Lucy, trust me, I know flirting when I see it. He asked you to get coffee, and I’m certain that he wasn’t imagining something purely professional.”

“But you didn’t have to jump in like that—”

What was he supposed to do? Watch? Lockwood resisted the urge to shudder at that prospect. “Well, it wouldn’t exactly be believable if I let some other man flirt with my girlfriend right in front of me, would it?”

“Oh. Yeah. I suppose that makes sense,” she admitted.

He hesitated, not sure if wanted to know the answer to this question. “Did you—do you want to go out with him?”

Lucy looked up at him like he was insane. “No. Of course not.”

Lockwood breathed a sigh of relief, unable to resist curling his arm around her a bit tighter. “Well then,” he said, hoping they could get some alone time. “What do you say to a walk before dusk? We haven’t explored the grounds at all yet.”

“Fine. Fresh air does sound nice,” she agreed. 

They passed the next hour wandering the extensive, well manicured grounds together, walking side by side. Since it was still late winter, none of the foliage was in bloom yet, but Lockwood could already see glimpses of how beautiful it would be. 

It was one of those rare, unseasonably warm late February afternoons where he could feel the beginning of spring brewing. The sky was bright blue above them, the sun shone on their faces, and the brisk breeze made his coat swish behind him. Lucy’s nose turned pink almost instantly in the wind, but she didn’t seem to mind, instead just tugging her fuzzy blue hat down to cover her ears. 

Something had shifted between the two of them over the course of the afternoon. Conversations were flowing easily, and Lucy was laughing—really laughing—and smiling at him in the way he’d longed to see since the previous autumn. Whatever was frozen between them was finally melting, and Lockwood had rarely felt more relieved. 

“Nice to be out of London, isn’t it?” he commented, as they stopped to sit on one of the benches flanking a fountain. He rested his arm along the back of the bench behind Lucy. 

“It is. I’ve never been somewhere like this before,” she said as she admired the view. “Reminds me a bit of a Jane Austin book.” 

“Expecting to see Mr. Darcy any moment now?” he teased. 

“Hardly,” she snorted. “Unless he’s decided to take up ghost hunting.”  

“When I was young, my uncle took Jessica and I somewhere like this once,” Lockwood said impulsively. 

He didn’t miss Lucy jumping at the mention of Jessica. That was fair. He’d only mentioned her several times to Lucy before. Even saying her name out loud felt rusty, like his voice was unaccustomed to it. It was strange—while Jessica was always so present in his thoughts, he spoke about her so rarely. 

“That sounds nice,” Lucy ventured, looking like she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“It was. It was summer, and she loved the flowers. There was one of those hedge mazes, and we spent all afternoon exploring it together.” Lockwood paused for a long moment, remembering how he’d run off on his own ahead of her and Jessica had tracked him down. They’d emerged from the maze victorious, thrilled to have solved the puzzle together, both of their pale cheeks pink with sunburn. The trip had taken place the summer before she died, and to this day, it was one of the happiest days Lockwood could remember. 

Lockwood cleared his throat, shaking off the memories. “Anyway, it was a long time ago.” 

Lucy’s face was soft. “I’d like to do one of those mazes someday.” 

“They’re quite fun. And I think you’d be good at it—and if you weren’t, you would certainly cut your way out with a rapier. Or perhaps you’d throw a flare.” 

“No, I’d give you that job, of course,” Lucy said, laughing at him. 

“I’d accept it happily,” Lockwood said seriously. He looked around again. “Being here does have me thinking though—someday it might be nice to go on a proper holiday again.” 

“You? On vacation?” 

“I’m capable of relaxing, you know.” 

“Lockwood, you told me you needed to stab something this afternoon because you had too much pent up energy.”

“Touché, Luce,” he allowed, joining her in laughter before they fell into a companionable silence. 

It was a rare moment of peace, and he closed his eyes, soaking up the warmth from the sun. When he opened them again, Lucy’s face was upturned towards the light, the golden radiance of late afternoon streaming around her, making her hair and skin glow. Lucy’s eyes fluttered open, and she turned to face him.

“Lockwood,” she asked abruptly, catching him off guard. “I’ve been wondering about something. How does this end?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone’s seen us together now. What are we going to say after this weekend? If they ask about us?”

Lockwood attempted to ignore the way something caught in his chest at hearing Lucy use the word us to describe the two of them. 

“We talked about what we were going to say this weekend,” Lucy continued. “Shouldn’t we get our story straight about what we’re going to do after this?”

“That depends on you, Luce,” he said smoothly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with telling people.” 

She made a face, but didn’t say anything. 

“The way I see it, we have a few options,” he said. He did, in fact, have multiple plans for how to handle this situation after this weekend. “We can always say that we felt like we were better as friends or that we were casually dating. We’re young. People grow apart. There’s not that much else that has to be said.” 

“Do you think people will believe that? The casual part?” She twisted her hands together. “You haven’t been acting casually.” 

Well, for once it seemed Lucy had been more observant. Lockwood scratched his nose. “People will believe whatever we tell them, Luce.” 

“I suppose so,” she said doubtfully.

“Or,” Lockwood said, venturing a glance in Lucy’s direction to gauge her reaction. “If you’re amenable to it, we could perhaps come to another kind of arrangement.” 

She frowned as she looked down at her lap. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, we’re still quite a good team—and you know my job better than anyone else. Sometimes there are events and situations where it would be helpful to have someone by my side. It helps me look more professional, and it could continue to be quite useful for you as a freelancer. ” 

While not Lockwood’s preferred option, if they continued this scheme, at least he’d still have regular excuses to see Lucy. So much of the weekend had already passed them by, and he  was increasingly desperate to prolong their time together in any way he could. 

“Don’t you have Holly to go to events like that with you?” Lockwood sensed the telltale frostiness in Lucy’s tone again at Holly’s name.

“Holly’s got a girlfriend, remember?” Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “She can’t exactly go to events as my date. Plus, Lucy, it’s been so good to work with you again, even if we aren’t in the field together. You know I’d love to continue to have your expertise.”

Lucy’s mouth curled up a bit at the compliment, but she didn’t answer right away. “So…” she said finally. “We’d just keep doing this? Let people continue to think that we’re together at events? How would that work?” 

“There are some details we’d need to sort out, of course, but I’m sure we could make it work.” 

She made a disgruntled noise. “Yeah. I guess we can figure out the rest later.” 

“Let’s make it through this weekend, and we can see what makes sense,” Lockwood suggested. 

“Okay,” Lucy said finally, as a strange pause fell over them. 

While it wasn’t exactly a victory, Lucy hadn’t rejected his proposal of continuing their arrangement, so Lockwood decided to count it as a step in the right direction. He absentmindedly rubbed the side of his neck while looking off into the distance. When he turned back towards Lucy, she had a curious expression on her face.

“Lockwood, how did you get that scar?” She bit her lip. “I noticed it earlier.” 

“You know,” he shrugged. “Things happen on cases.”

She eyed the raised white scar again. “It looks like it was quite a bad cut.” 

“All in a day’s work, Luce,” he said reassuringly. 

Lucy looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t, instead just giving him a nod. “It seems like you have been quite busy. Not that I’ve been paying attention—it’s just you see things in the papers,” she said hurriedly. 

That was an admission if he’d ever heard one. Lockwood would bet all the money in his wallet that Lucy had kept tabs on Lockwood & Co.’s cases over the past three months just like he’d kept tabs on hers. 

“George has been complaining about not having enough time for research,” he allowed.

“Have you thought about hiring another agent?”

Never anyone that isn’t you, Lockwood thought. “Not really,” he said. “It turns out you’re difficult to replace.” They were once again dangerously close to Rule #2, and Lucy’s expression said exactly what she thought about that, so Lockwood backed off for the moment. 

“Speaking of cases, are you going to accept Kipps’s offer?” Lockwood said finally, bracing himself. While he’d helped Lucy get jobs and make contacts all weekend, this felt different.

Lucy shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “I’m not sure yet. Hadn’t thought about it much.” 

“Not that you need to know what I think, but—” Lockwood hesitated for a moment. “Kipps is a good team lead. Better than most out there. You could do worse.” 

“He’s still a bit of a prat.” 

“You know I don’t disagree—but he’s at least competent.” 

“That’s true,” she allowed. “I’ll consider it.”  

The sun was slowly starting to slip below the horizon, and the afternoon grew colder around them. Lockwood folded up the collar of his coat and tentatively let his arm fall around Lucy’s shoulders in reaction to the chill. This time, she didn’t flinch, instead leaning in a bit closer to him. 

She shivered slightly, and he tightened his arm in reaction. “Still cold?”

“A little,” she allowed. “We should probably go inside, and get ready for tonight. It’s getting dark.”

“Right,” Lockwood said reluctantly, holding out his hand to help her up. There was no one around, so he was surprised when she didn’t drop it immediately. 

“Lockwood.” Lucy’s voice was so quiet he could barely hear her over the wind. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Chapter Text

“Luce?” Lockwood knocked softly on the bathroom door, as he glanced at the clock. “How’s it going in there?” From the muffled sounds he could hear, Lucy seemed to be having some sort of argument with the hotel supplied hair dryer. 

After their walk, they’d eaten a quick dinner and snagged a batch of biscuits before retreating back to their room to get ready. After Lockwood showered, Lucy had made some disgruntled noises towards a bag of cosmetics before disappearing into the bathroom. She’d been in there ever since, and the cocktail hour was due to start in a few minutes.

“Oh, hell,” he heard Lucy mutter before she cracked open the door and stuck her head out. Her hair was still damp. “You shouldn’t miss the cocktail hour. I’m quite capable of walking downstairs on my own.” 

It took Lockwood a second to process what Lucy had said as she was currently wrapped in a large towel rather than wearing her formal dress as he’d expected. He averted his eyes in an effort to not repeat the awkward “nice towel” incident from shortly after she’d moved into Portland Row. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, commending himself for sounding calm and professional. “I don’t mind waiting.”

Lucy shut the door in his face. “Yes, Lockwood.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes at him. “Go do your charming smile routine. I’m happy to skip some of the networking. I’ll find you as soon as I get there.”

“Okay. I put the rest of the biscuits on your nightstand, if you want any,” he called back. 

Is it weird that we have sides of the bed? Lockwood wondered. And what did she mean by “charming smile?”

He glanced in the mirror above the desk one more time, fixing his hair and adjusting the bow tie of his father’s tuxedo. Then he shook his head and left the room before he said something stupid. 

This evening’s cocktail party made the previous night’s gathering look austere in comparison. Everyone had shed agency uniforms for their finest suits or tuxedos and formal dresses, and the atmosphere was jubilant—likely helped by the seemingly endless amounts of champagne. A number of important people had traveled to the estate just for this evening’s ball. Lockwood set his sights on talking to as many of them as possible before Lucy arrived, knowing she’d detest the small talk. While he picked up a flute of champagne to be sociable, he barely sipped it. He was determined to pace himself with his drinking to ensure that there were no repeats of the previous night. 

After a few turns around the room, Lockwood covertly glanced at his watch. Lucy should really have joined him by now, and he had a lingering sense that the night hadn’t begun without her presence. He turned back to the tall staircase leading to the reception space and finally caught a glimpse of a figure in blue. 

There she was. 

Lockwood waved at Lucy, and she gave him a small smile before she slowly walked down the steps. He snagged a second flute of champagne for her on his way to meet her at the bottom.

Once he was confronted with the full view of Lucy, Lockwood had to take a moment to collect himself. While Lucy was beautiful in every situation, he’d never seen her so dressed up before. Her royal blue dress was sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline. It was fitted through the waist, then flared out at her hips, the flowing fabric ending mid-calf. She’d finished drying her hair, so it was smooth and sleek. The diamond necklace was resting between her collarbones again, and whatever she’d managed to do with the cosmetics made her hazel eyes stand out more than usual. 

“Luce,” he said, feeling stunned. He knew he was staring again, and this time he couldn’t even use alcohol consumption as an excuse. “You look… wonderful.” 

Lucy ducked her head, and he remembered she’d never been good at accepting compliments about her appearance.

“It’s alright?” she said, fiddling with her skirt. “I didn’t have much time to shop for something, and this dress was on sale, but—”

“Do you like it?” he asked. 

“I do,” she said hesitantly. 

“Then I like it.” She turned her head, and he caught her smiling to herself. “Let’s head into the ballroom?” 

From there, the rest of the ball passed in a blur. The immaculately restored ballroom was already packed full of people. Like many of these events, it was a strange mixture of powerful members of society, agents running amok, and boring bureaucrats. 

This was his last true opportunity for networking, so Lockwood immediately took the opportunity to whisk them into a conversation with Mrs. Matilda Clarke, wife of prominent businessman Arthur Clarke. He’d heard inklings that the Clarkes had recently inherited a large amount of property in London, and his efforts were rewarded when Mrs. Clarke brought up the subject on her own. 

“You’re both agents, you say?” she said, smiling brightly at them. “I’ve been meaning to hire an agency to clear out a haunting at my beloved aunt’s former home in Kensington. Bit of a nasty mess there at the moment with some Visitors.”

“At Lockwood and Co., we pride ourselves on our discretion and high quality services,” Lockwood said, locating a business card in his jacket pocket and passing it to her. 

“Lovely. I’ll be sure to give you a call when we’re back in London,” she said as she placed the card in her handbag. “What a handsome couple you two are,” she said, beaming at them. “How long have you been together?” 

“A few months,” Lockwood answered promptly, tugging Lucy slightly closer. 

“Oh, young love,” Mrs. Clarke said fondly. “I met my Arthur when I was about your age. I’m sure you both will do a tiptop job with the case.” 

“I’m actually working as a freelance agent now,” Lucy interjected. 

The disappointment on Mrs. Clarke’s was immediately apparent. “Oh, you don’t work together?”

“Not at the moment,” Lockwood said quickly. “But myself and the rest of our team at Lockwood and Co. would be more than happy to assist you with any of your psychic investigation needs.” 

“I suppose that will have to do then. Well, I hope you keep him in line, my dear,” she said to Lucy, as she bid them both goodbye. 

Lockwood fought to keep a straight face at that comment. If only Mrs. Clarke knew how frequently he was the one trying to keep Lucy in line.

Next, he dragged Lucy into a few more conversations until she begged for a well-deserved break. They lingered at the edge of the dance floor, sipping their flutes of champagne.

“Look, Luce,” Lockwood said, nudging her in the side as he pointed out James and Sarah dancing together. They were both laughing, and James looked very happy. 

“Guess he figured it out then.” 

“I knew he would,” Lockwood said. Sometimes it felt like everything was simpler for James than it was for him. “Anyway, what do you say? Shall we join them?”

“What?” 

“Do you want to dance?” 

“Not really, but I suppose you’re going to tell me we should,” she said reluctantly.

“Just one or two should do it. Keep up appearances.” 

Lucy made a disgruntled face at him in response. 

“It’s a good song at least, Lucy,” he reasoned. 

“Fine,” she said, sighing. 

Lockwood directed them to an open spot on the dance floor. He pulled Lucy close, bringing one of his hands to rest on her back and linking their other hands. The flowy material of her dress was slippery under his fingers. “This okay?” he murmured, his voice in her ear.

“Yeah. It’s fine.” Lucy seemed distracted, but she shuffled a bit closer to him, letting her forehead graze against his chest. 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Lockwood felt like he was suspended in a dream. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself one minute to pretend that this was all real, that he and Lucy were here at the ball, dancing like any other couple. An unexpected wave of emotion crested over him at that idea. He didn’t trust himself to look at Lucy, knowing the truth of his feelings for her would be written all over his face. 

That’s it, he told himself sternly, one minute. That’s all. Now put it away, and go back to being as close to professional as you can manage.

When the song ended, Lockwood made himself pull away and let go of Lucy’s hand. Less than forty-eight hours together and he’d already memorized every rapier callus on her palm again. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, careful to keep his tone light.

“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat. “You didn’t step on my toes once.” 

“You have so little faith in me, Lucy,” he gently admonished. “After all, you’re the one who tripped us both earlier today.” 

“Ah, but that was on purpose,” she said, with a glint in her eye. “Otherwise, you would have kept me there doing rapier drills all afternoon.” 

That drew a chuckle out of him, and Lockwood was about to suggest that they should get a drink before they were waylaid by a familiar face.

“Mr. Lockwood, Ms. Carlyle,” Inspector Barnes said, nodding to them both. He was dressed in a tuxedo that had seen better days, but it was still a step up from his usual attire. 

“Inspector Barnes,” Lockwood said brightly. “Lovely seeing you as always.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Barnes said dourly. 

“How’s your weekend going?” Lucy asked. 

“It’s been a madhouse back in London. This conference is the worst timing imaginable, given the Black Winter. I barely got out of the office in time to get here tonight, and as soon as I arrived, I had to deal with a team of agents terrorizing the hotel staff with their supply of magnesium flares. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He regarded them suspiciously.

Lockwood responded with a wide smile. “Unfortunately, Lucy and I have been behaving ourselves.” 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Barnes said dryly. He made a disgruntled noise. “I should have known I’d find the two of you here together.” 

“You know us, Inspector,” Lockwood said smoothly. “We like to be where the action is.”

“I’m well aware. Miss Carlyle,” Barnes said suddenly. “I was under the impression that you were still working as a freelance agent.” 

“I still am,” Lucy answered. 

“Curious,” he said, before seemingly taking in their still intertwined hands for the first time and raising an eyebrow. “I thought I saw that you two were registered together.” 

“It’s not that type of registration,” Lockwood said, not even bothering to suppress a grin.  

The inspector’s expression of horror was immediate and obvious, and Lockwood had to stifle a laugh. Meanwhile, Lucy’s cheeks were flushing again. 

“God save us,” Barnes muttered. “I’m only here to make a brief appearance. I need to get back to London first thing in the morning. If you don’t mind, don’t give me a reason to find you two again tonight. I have more than enough on my plate as is.” He left them with a final stern look. 

Lockwood whistled under his breath as Barnes walked away. “I haven’t seen him look that horrified since we burnt a house down.” 

“Would we really be us if we hadn’t done something to terrorize Barnes and make him question everything about his life?” Lucy responded.

“This whole weekend was worth it just to see the look on his face,” Lockwood said, grinning at Lucy and squeezing her hand. “Come on, let’s go talk to someone who won’t be appalled to see us.” 

“That’s a pretty steep goal when I see Kipps coming this way,” Lucy said wryly. 

“Hello Kipps,” Lockwood said to the man in question, who he had to admit was wearing a well fitting tuxedo. “Kat and Bobby around?”

“Bobby’s with some friends, and Kat’s off trying to find some boy she went out with on Valentine’s Day that hasn’t called her since,” Kipps said, rolling his eyes. “I’m guessing you two did something overly sentimental for the holiday?” 

Valentine’s Day had taken place the week prior. Lockwood hadn’t had any reason to notice or remember until Holly appeared at Portland Row wearing a red pinafore dress with a light pink blouse underneath, bearing heart-shaped linzer biscuits full of homemade raspberry jam. It was easy enough to imagine how he would have preferred to spend it. 

“We went out—” Lockwood began, just as Lucy responded, “Valentine’s Day is a stupid holiday.” They both stopped speaking at the same time, aware that they’d been caught. 

“What we mean,” Lockwood said, thinking fast, “is that we just did something simple because Valentine’s Day is a rather commercialized holiday, isn’t it, Luce?” She quickly nodded in agreement.  

Kipps gave them both a strange look. “You two seem like the types who would get into all that sappy stuff. Anyway, are you coming to the after party tonight? I have to go again to make sure no one from Fittes does anything truly insane. Rumor has it that it’s going to be an even bigger party than last night.” 

For one of the first times in his life, Lockwood found himself wanting to decline a party invitation, wondering if he could steal away with Lucy instead. 

And do what? his mind supplied. Torture yourself even further? No, that wouldn’t do. They needed to be around other people to keep him from doing something very stupid. 

“We haven’t talked about it yet,” he said, turning to Lucy. “What do you say, Luce?” 

“I suppose you want to go.” 

“We don’t have to,” he said quickly, against his better judgment. 

“No,” she said, surprising him. “We can go for a bit. No punch though. Or beer pong.” She gave him a weak smile. 

“I heard you're quite good at beer pong, Carlyle," Kipps said, a rare note of admiration in his voice. 

“She’s the best,” Lockwood said proudly, as he curled an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go then, Luce?” 

While the prior night’s after party had been crowded and chaotic, Kipps was correct that the situation had escalated. The party had taken on a decidedly wild bent, which was proven when the three of them stepped out of the lift and were greeted by a team of agents running down the hallway completely naked. 

Lucy blanched immediately, while Kipps just scowled. “Rotwell idiots,” he muttered, stalking off down the hall ahead of them. 

Soon Lockwood found himself standing with Lucy, sipping Cold Maiden Ales as they took in the scene. Once again, the party was spread over a few hotel suites, and there was beer pong, as well as other drinking games. They spent a few minutes learning how to play flip cup before mutually agreeing that it was time to quit while they were still ahead. Instead, they occupied themselves by watching a group of people who were drunkenly climbing on one of the sofas to fall into the arms of the person standing behind them. 

“Trust falls,” Lockwood said. “Usually more of a team building exercise than a drinking activity, but you have to admire their bravery.” 

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Lucy said bluntly, making him laugh. 

“I think we would be quite good at it, Luce,” he said, knocking her shoulder into his.

“You trust me that much?” Lucy responded. “You’re too tall for me to catch, Lockwood.”

“But you’re strong,” he reasoned. “And I’d trust you with my life. God knows I’ve done it before.” He gave her a fond smile. 

Lucy’s expression faltered for a moment. She looked around the room and saw James and Sarah sitting in a circle with a group of other agents from Tendy’s. “Let’s play that game,” she said, practically dragging him across the party. 

They settled down on the floor next to each other next to James and Sarah, both of them still nursing a beer. “How’s this work?” Lockwood asked. 

“This is Never Have I Ever,” James explained. “It’s simple. When it’s your turn, you say something you’ve never done, and then if you’ve done what someone else says, you take a drink.” 

That seemed straightforward enough. But while the first round was basic—”never have I ever passed my Fourth Grade, never have I ever accidentally stabbed someone with a rapier”—it soon escalated, as turns quickly became targeted opportunities to embarrass or tease the other participants. 

Lucy hesitated when it was her turn before finally saying, “Never have I ever come in second place during a fencing competition.” 

Lockwood raised his bottle to her before he took a drink. “You got me there, Luce. Which is why I’ll have to say that never I have ever tripped someone so I didn’t have to admit I’d lost a fencing round.” 

Lucy glowered at him, but sipped her beer. His sense of victory was short-lived, however, when on her next turn, Lucy immediately said, “Never have I ever been knocked out of a window by a water bottle.” 

That time, the rest of the group joined Lucy in laughing at him, and she even looked a little bit rueful. 

Lockwood let out a chuckle before he took a swig of the beer. “Never have I ever thrown a water bottle that knocked someone out of a window,” he immediately responded. 

James whistled under his breath. “That sounds like a story we all need to hear.”

“Another time,” Lockwood said, winking at Lucy. 

The game continued on, and most of the next round was fairly tame, although he and Lucy both had to drink for “Never have I ever jumped out of a window during a case.” 

Lockwood was starting to feel pleasantly relaxed again. He let his hand intertwine with Lucy’s just in time for him to hear the words that made him draw in a sharp breath. 

“Never have I ever been kissed,” said one of the younger agents in the group, giving a sheepish shrug. 

Lockwood barely stopped himself from swearing. He should have predicted the game would go this way and insisted that they do something else. 

While he had kissed someone before—a girl named Hannah he’d met two years prior, shortly before Lucy joined the agency—Lucy obviously hadn’t kissed anyone. But if he drank and she didn’t, that would look odd given their arrangement. Lockwood tried to casually glance in Lucy’s direction, giving her a barely perceptible nod as he brought his bottle up to his lips. 

While Lucy looked alarmed, she eventually took a small sip of her own beer. Her cheeks were starting to flush again. While there were a few more awkward questions the two of them had to exchange furtive looks about, they quickly devised a system of silently squeezing the other person’s hand as a sign to drink about relationship related matters. 

“Never have I ever fancied a team member,” another agent said. The two of them looked at each other sheepishly. No one would believe it if they didn’t drink for that one, and Lockwood clicked his bottle with hers before taking a swig. He even spied James looking hopefully at Sarah before taking a sip of his own beer. 

Lockwood was beginning to think that the worst had passed when he heard the horrible words “Never have I ever been in love” from someone across the circle. 

His grip tightened on his beer bottle, as he turned to look at Lucy. She was regarding him with an expression of sheer horror. That was it. They needed to quit playing this game immediately—especially when Lucy looked mortified at the mere idea of having to pretend to be in love with him.

He leaned in closer to her, but spoke loud enough to be overheard. “Luce, didn’t you need to talk to Kipps again about that job? Should we go find him?”

She nodded, her gratitude for the excuse apparent. Lockwood stood up, pulling her with him. “Well, I think we’re going to bow out for the night everyone. Enjoy the rest of the game.”  

“Come on, Lockwood. Answer the question,” James cajoled, smirking at him. 

“What question?” Lockwood said brightly, giving the group a wink. He didn’t dare meet Lucy’s eyes again. “I think a gentleman keeps certain answers private, doesn’t he?” He turned away, his arm wrapping firmly around Lucy’s waist to guide her along with him before she could respond. 

Rather than being brave enough to address what transpired with Lucy, Lockwood instead pulled them into a conversation with the first group of people he saw.  After a few minutes of chatting, he leaned down to whisper in Lucy’s ear. “I’m going to get us both some water.” She nodded gratefully, a strange expression on her eyes, and he slipped away, taking a moment to collect himself. 

When Lockwood returned, Lucy was talking to a girl he vaguely recognized as a Rotwell agent. She once again looked deeply uncomfortable. Just as he decided to interrupt, Lucy extracted herself and made a beeline across the room to him.

“What was that about?” Lockwood nodded discretely to the girl who was still staring at them. 

Lucy gave him a guilty look as she accepted the water. “Mia and I worked on a case together last month. And now she’s heard that we’re dating, so she was asking me about you.”

“And?” 

“She wouldn’t shut up. Wanted to know everything about you. About us.” Lucy grimaced, looking like she wanted to scrub the memory of the conversation from her brain. “There were personal questions. Entirely too personal questions.”

Lockwood stifled a laugh, wagging his eyebrows at her. “What’d you tell her?”

“That you’re a terrible kisser, of course. Bad technique,” she deadpanned. 

“Lucy, what the hell?!” he said, affronted. 

In truth, his first kiss had been terribly awkward, but he didn’t need all of London to know that. Lockwood didn’t think he’d even told Lucy the details of that particular encounter during their drunken New Year’s Eve conversation the year prior. 

Lucy laughed, clearly enjoying torturing him. “I didn’t tell her anything, you arse. That’s why she was so annoyed with me. Because I wouldn’t give her any good gossip. I didn’t exactly have anything to tell her anyway, did I? Besides that you’re dreadful about trying to get out of household chores.”

“Christ. Well, at least my reputation’s still intact.” Lockwood grinned at her, but Lucy made a face back at him that he couldn’t quite read. “What’s that face for?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. 

“Come on, Luce,” he said, tugging at her arm before she could turn away from him. “What’s going on?” 

“It’s just—is your reputation really intact, Lockwood?” She lowered her voice and gestured around the room. “All these people think you’re here with me—especially after that game we just played—and I know I’m not…”

“Not what?”

“You know,” she said, looking increasingly agitated. 

“Afraid I don’t,” he said, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

“I’m not pretty or fancy or polished,” Lucy said, practically spitting out the words. “I don’t even really like parties. Obviously, it would make more sense for you to be here with someone else.” She frowned at his expression. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, Lockwood.”

While he knew that Lucy didn’t have the best self-image, Lockwood hadn’t realized how harsh she’d been on herself this weekend. He searched for the words to make her understand. “You’ve got this all wrong, Luce. I’m lucky to be here with you—anyone would be lucky to be here with you. You’re brave and funny and smart. And if you don’t mind me saying it since I’m no longer your employer…” he swallowed, momentarily throwing caution to the wind. “I think you’re very pretty.”

Lucy’s eyes flicked up to his before darting away. Her cheeks were turning pink again, and she didn’t say anything, just crossed her arms in front of her and clutched at her elbows with her hands. Perhaps he’d said too much, but he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her think that he agreed with her.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been drinking,” she said finally.

“I’m not. I swear,” Lockwood said softly. The hotel room suddenly felt entirely too warm and stuffy. “Lucy,” he said abruptly. “Do you want to take a break from the party? Maybe get some air?”

Lucy nodded in agreement, and they headed back down the hallway and towards a doorway he had noticed earlier in the night that led to a small balcony. While it was late and neither of them had their rapiers or even a salt bomb on them, with all of the protections on the estate, they would be fine as long as they didn’t linger too long. 

A burst of cold air hit them as soon as they stepped outside. Lockwood scanned the surrounding area for any Visitors or death glows, and when he’d assured himself they were truly alone, he shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over Lucy’s shoulders. “Didn’t realize how chilly it’s gotten.”

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, hugging the jacket around herself. 

Lucy still looked cold, so he circled an arm loosely around her shoulders as they moved to stand at the railing of the balcony. “Am I too close?” 

“No.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt, as she pressed her face into his shoulder briefly. One of her arms snuck out from under his jacket to wind around his waist. 

Lockwood let his chin rest against the crown of her head. They stood there in the quiet for a few minutes, breathing in the cool, misty air, before Lucy shifted so she could look up at him. Lockwood studied her face, drinking in her features in a way he rarely allowed himself. Not for the first time that weekend, he found himself regretting signing that contract. Because if there was anything he wanted to be doing right now, it was kissing Lucy. Or begging her to come home so he could kiss her everyday.

“Luce,” Lockwood whispered, feeling his fragile grip on self-control continue to fray. Suddenly, he realized that he’d unconsciously started drifting closer to her. 

Lucy’s eyes were still locked with his, before they briefly darted down to his mouth. Lockwood hesitated for a moment, wanting nothing more to close the gap between them, but instead he forced himself to release his hold on her. 

Right now, he was certain of exactly one thing: he couldn’t stay here with Lucy and continue to abide by the terms of their agreement—not if she was going to insist on looking at him like that. 

“Come on,” Lockwood said. “Let’s go back inside.” He was about to open the door when Lucy spoke. 

“Lockwood.” She hadn’t moved from where he’d left her on the edge of the balcony.

“Yes? Everything okay?” He turned back towards her. 

“I’m going to head up to our room. You can go back to the party without me.” 

“Are you feeling alright? I’m happy to come with you,” he offered. 

“No.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. I could use some time to myself.”

Lockwood shifted uneasily. “Is there something wrong, Lucy?” 

“It’s just…” Lucy took a deep breath, her face pinched. “I know we talked about it this afternoon, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep doing this.” She paused and corrected herself. “I can’t keep doing this with you.” 

“Luce,” he said, concern seeping into his voice as he stepped back towards her. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable with what I said earlier—or anything that happened with that ridiculous game. I didn’t intend to cross a line.” 

“You didn’t. It’s just—this weekend has me so confused. I didn’t think it was going to be this hard.” Lucy’s face twisted into a sad smile. 

Lockwood swallowed. “What’s hard?”

“All this pretending. You might be good at acting, but I’m not, Lockwood.” She let out a strange, tortured laugh. “I know we’re just putting on a show, but it’s messing with my head. Because it doesn’t feel like we’re…” She trailed off helplessly. 

“Lucy,” he said, pausing for a long moment before he offered her a kernel of the truth. “It doesn’t quite feel like we’re pretending, does it?” 

She gave him a sharp look before conceding, “No, it doesn’t.” She scrubbed her hand over her face. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just go inside.”  

She started to walk past him when Lockwood made a split second decision, grabbing her hand to stop her.

Instantly, his carefully constructed plan vanished. Lucy had given him an opening, and Lockwood knew that if they let this moment pass, they would pretend they’d never had this conversation. That idea was suddenly unthinkable. It was just like Lucy to make him improvise, but if there was even the glimmer of a chance that she felt the same way he did, he had to take this risk. 

“Luce,” he said in a low tone. “I think I know what you mean.” 

Lucy’s eyes flashed toward him, as he reached for her elbows. He pulled her close again, feeling her tremble underneath his hands. 

“Lockwood,” she said weakly, her voice a warning that he desperately wanted to ignore. “There’s no one here to see us. You really don’t need to keep touching me.”

He took a deep breath. “I know. But what if I want to?”

“You want to?” she said with such a tone of disbelief that he was astounded. 

“God, Lucy, you’re giving my acting abilities entirely too much credit,” he said hoarsely. 

“Oh,” she said softly. 

“Luce,” he said roughly, knowing the next words were going to cost him, but willing to make the wager. “If I wasn’t pretending this weekend at all, would that change anything for you?”

“What do you mean—?” Lucy had gone pale, but he had to say this now before he lost his nerve like the countless times he’d bitten back the words. 

Lockwood let his hands slide up her arms to frame her face. Her cheeks were damp with mist. "Lucy, there's something I want to do right now. It’s something I've wanted to do all night. But I need your permission first.”

"What?” she said, not understanding him. “Why do you need my permission?"

There was a roaring sound in Lockwood’s ears, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Because it breaks one of your rules. A rule that you insisted on, and I want to be respectful of your wishes." He ducked his head, making his question clear as he looked at her mouth and then back up to meet her eyes. 

Lucy stared at him, her eyes a little wild. "That might be a bad idea," she whispered.

Lockwood let out a breath. "We've had worse ones, haven't we?" he said, daring to move closer.  

"I suppose we have,” Lucy agreed, as she leaned further into his touch. 

"And this—" Lockwood paused, his heart in his throat. His lips were just a breath away from hers now, yet every second felt like an eternity. "This could turn out to be a very good idea. But we'll never know if we don't try, will we? We’re braver than that, aren’t we?”

Lucy met his eyes again, her face determined. "We are," she agreed, pressing her hands against his chest. 

It was awkward at first, as they both fumbled to get their mouths to line up, their noses bumping slightly. Bad technique, Lockwood thought ruefully, Lucy’s earlier joke coming back to haunt him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Because then their lips met, and he was finally kissing Lucy. The kiss was cautious and slow, but then Lucy was kissing him back, and Lockwood felt like he couldn’t breathe at all. 

Her hands clutched the fabric of his shirt all the while, like she was afraid that she was going to fall over any second. Lockwood couldn’t blame her for feeling unsteady. Kissing her was throwing off his entire equilibrium; the world tilting around them, time coming to a stop. He could hardly believe that this was real and not another dream or part of their scheme. 

After a moment, Lockwood forced himself to pull away. He was still cradling her face in his hands, as their breath mingled together. Lucy slowly blinked at him, her expression turning self-conscious. They both spoke at the same time.

“That was—” 

“Lucy, I—”

They stopped and exchanged an embarrassed look. 

“So,” Lucy said, clearing her throat.

“So,” Lockwood said back, like an idiot. He mustered a sheepish smile, as he let his hands fall to her upper arms. “Was it a good idea, Luce?” he asked hopefully.

Instead of answering, Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer before she pressed her mouth to his again. Lockwood made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat, but the shock quickly faded away. 

While the second kiss started out tentative, it soon turned more intense. Lucy’s hands curled tighter around his neck, and Lockwood found himself pulling her closer until there wasn’t any space left in between them. His heart was racing, and he was desperate to soak up as much of her as possible. Lucy fit into his arms like she was made for him, and her mouth against his felt better than he’d ever imagined. 

Lockwood wanted to commit every detail about this moment to memory, to engrave it in his mind so it would never fade—the feeling of Lucy’s skin, the way she still tasted like champagne, how soft her lips were against his. Lucy was in his arms because she wanted to be there, just like he’d hoped for for so long. Despite the chill, despite the darkness, he could have stayed on that balcony with her forever.

Just not with an audience. 

“Whoops. Didn’t know this spot was taken.”

Lockwood dimly heard giggling behind them, and the next thing he knew, Lucy was wrenching herself out of his arms that he only vaguely recalled winding around her waist. In his dazed state, it took Lockwood a minute to recognize the two people standing in the doorway as the couple he and Lucy had interrupted in the stairwell the night before. 

“Sorry, mate,” the boy called as he pulled his girlfriend back down the hall. She was looking at them distastefully, like they had just committed a murder rather than been caught snogging. 

She isn’t exactly one to judge, Lockwood thought darkly, annoyed that they had been interrupted. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair and ventured a look at Lucy. Her expression was impenetrable, and she wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. 

The moment had certainly been broken, and Lockwood could hardly believe that they’d been kissing mere seconds before. He wasn’t sure how to start it again—or if Lucy even wanted to do so. For once, his confidence failed him, and he found himself praying that his reckless actions hadn’t messed everything up. 

“Well, let’s go inside,” he said finally. He guided Lucy through the door, pausing in an alcove of the hallway. Even with his jacket still draped around her, Lucy was shivering in her sleeveless dress. “Let’s both call it a night, Luce. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the party? Did you want to go back?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. 

He nodded in agreement. “Let’s head upstairs. I don’t want you to get sick from being out in the cold.”

As they waited for the lift, they shared another nervous glance. Lockwood gathered his courage and let his hand brush against Lucy’s, and miracle of miracles, she didn’t pull away. When the door opened, the lift was empty, and Lucy grabbed his hand and tugged him inside after her.

“Lucy,” Lockwood said, steeling himself as he turned to face her, their hands still intertwined. He couldn’t pretend that they hadn’t just kissed—not when he already desperately wanted to do it again. 

Lucy gave him a piercing look as she searched his face for something. Lockwood wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she made a decision just as he reached the same conclusion. In perfect sync, she pressed up on her tiptoes and he ducked his head down towards her, their lips meeting again. Acting on pure instinct, his hands found the curve of her waist, guiding her until her back pressed against the wall of the lift. 

Some time later, Lockwood dimly realized the lift’s doors had opened. “Luce,” he said, just barely pulling his mouth away from hers. He nodded towards the open door. “We should go.” 

“Right,” she said, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. 

Lockwood took Lucy’s hand in his once again, feeling on steadier ground, and pulled her down the hallway to their room.

But when their hotel door clicked shut behind them, everything felt awkward again, as the reality sank in that they were alone and no one was going to stumble in on them here. Once again, Lockwood wasn’t sure how to proceed. Should he talk to her about how felt? Try to kiss her again and hope for the best? 

Lucy solved his dilemma by removing his jacket and handing it back to him. “I’m going to change,” she announced, gathering her pajamas and ducking into the bathroom. Soon she emerged ready for bed, and Lockwood took her place. He brushed his teeth and changed into his own pajamas before returning to the bedroom. 

He paused at the end of the bed, unsure if last night’s offer to share still applied, especially in light of recent events. He looked towards the cot. “I can—”

“Don’t be stupid, Lockwood. We’ve been through this.” Lucy tossed a throw pillow aside before climbing into the bed.

Well, that was that. He turned off the light before joining her. Then, they were together in the dark, the heavy weight of the kisses they’d shared an oppressive presence in the seemingly endless distance between them. 

The only sound in the room was the rise and fall of their breaths. Rather than feeling exhilarated from the adrenaline, Lockwood wondered if the anticipation of not knowing what came next might kill him. 

The silence stretched between them until it snapped, both of them again speaking at the same time.

“Listen, Lucy, if—”

“Lockwood, I—” 

Lockwood rolled over to face her, inching a bit closer as he did. “Yes?” He ached to reach for her, but held himself back. 

There was a pause before Lucy spoke. “There’s something I need to know. Did you really mean what you said downstairs? You weren’t pretending?” 

Lockwood let out a low breath and dared to close the gap between them a bit more. “I wasn’t pretending. I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I know it was important to you.” 

She finally turned over, shifting towards the center of the bed in the process. Her expression was unreadable in the darkness. “It wasn’t just part of this crazy scheme?” she said, her voice wavering slightly.

“Luce.” Lockwood reached out, tentatively grasping for her hand. She didn’t pull away, and he allowed himself a second to hope as he intertwined their fingers. “I meant it. All of it.”

The thread that had always bound them together pulled tighter and tighter, until they met in the middle of the bed.

“I’ve wanted—” Lockwood started to say, but Lucy shushed him, pressing her fingers against his lips. He just barely stopped himself from kissing them, wondering vaguely if that would be strange. 

“Lockwood.” Lucy’s voice was low and breathy in a way that made him feel like he might go insane if he didn’t get to kiss or touch her again. “Do you really want to talk right now?”

“Honestly?” He swallowed, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest as Lucy’s hand slid down to the side of his throat. “No. Do you want to talk?”  

“Not particularly.” 

That was all Lockwood needed to hear. He reached for her waist, and then Lucy was in his arms, her mouth slanted up to meet his. He let out a soft groan as her hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He held her tight as she returned the kiss by opening her mouth against his. Lockwood felt the rightness of it settle over him again, as he moved to brush his lips across Lucy’s jaw and then down her neck, treasuring the gasp it drew out of her.

“Luce,” he murmured, barely pulling away from her. “Lucy, you’re sure this is okay?” 

“Yes,” she whispered, her breath warm against his face.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I will.”

Everything around them faded away, nothing else in the world mattering but her. In the distant, rational part of his brain, Lockwood knew they probably should talk, but there would be time for that tomorrow. Right now, he was entirely incapable of thinking logically. Forget the punch from last night’s party; this was the most intoxicating thing he’d encountered in his life thus far. 

Instead, they kissed until they were both yawning. Lucy was laughing against his mouth as she finally pulled away. “We should sleep,” she insisted.

Lockwood couldn’t resist chasing her lips with his for one final kiss before he tucked himself around her. Lucy was already nodding off as she nestled against him, her hand splaying against his lower back. She rested her face in the crook of his neck as she yawned again. “I’m so tired.” 

“Me too,” he replied, his eyes already closing. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed. Soon they both drifted off to sleep, his arms still wrapped around her.

Chapter Text

now I'm pacin' on shaky ground
strike a match, then you blow it out
oh no, oh no, it's not fair
'cause you kiss me and it stops time
and I'm yours, but you're not mine
oh no, oh no, you're not there

—say don't go

A noise jolted Lockwood awake in the middle of the night. 

When his eyes flew open, it took a minute to realize he wasn’t in his bedroom or in his favorite chair in the library at Portland Row. He slowly processed his surroundings: the dark hotel room, hours to go until dawn, Lucy asleep next to him. 

Wait. Lucy was here? Was this a dream—another one of many that he’d had about her over the course of the Black Winter? Memories of the past two days came back to him in waves: arriving at the conference, kissing her on the balcony, cuddling for the second night in a row until they both fell asleep. 

A minute after that, it became clear what had woken him up: Lucy was having a nightmare. 

Nightmares were common for agents, but this one seemed particularly intense. Lucy was shaking, and her cheeks were already wet with tears. She was mumbling, the garbled words interspersed with whining noises. It was difficult to believe that just hours earlier she had been laughing in his arms.

Lockwood was quickly on alert. “Luce,” he whispered. “You’re okay, I’m here.” He leaned a bit closer, trying to decipher what she was saying. 

“No, no,” she mumbled, desperation in her voice. “Please, no, Lockwood—”

His heart rate picked up at the sound of his name. “Lucy, I’ve got you,” he said soothingly in an attempt to calm her down. “Oh Luce, please wake up.” 

“Stop—oh no—come back—” Lucy begged, the muscles in her face clenching tightly. Her agonized cries continued for another long moment before she finally woke up, gasping for breath. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Lockwood murmured, his hand coming up automatically to stroke through her hair. “Oh, Luce, it’s okay.”

“Lockwood, don’t go,” Lucy pleaded, sounding like she wasn’t even quite aware of what she was saying. She buried her face in the fabric of his pajama shirt, pressing her palm to his chest. 

Lockwood let his lips graze the top of her head. “Lucy, I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here, Luce, you’re safe, we’re safe… Breathe with me, okay?” He kept talking, murmuring an endless stream of consoling words and endearments, not even caring how much truth slipped through them, as tears continued to stream from her eyes. 

Lucy slowly calmed down, her breathing falling in line with his long, slow breaths. They were wound tightly together, a tangle of twisted pajamas and intertwined limbs, fingers twisted in each other’s clothes and hair.

Lockwood started to slowly extract himself from Lucy’s arms, but she clung to him like glue. “Let me get you some water, and I’ll be right back okay?” he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. 

Lucy nodded in response, but her eyes still looked haunted. When he returned, Lockwood immediately wrapped an arm around her again as she took the cup from him. 

“How are you doing?” he asked softly when she was done drinking.

Lucy shuddered, as she curled further into his body. “Not good. Can you stay with me?”

His arm tightened around her, guiding her head against his shoulder as he pulled them back into the bed. “Of course, Luce. I’ll stay as long as you like.”

Lockwood rubbed soft circles into her back until Lucy drifted off to sleep in his arms again. Her fingers were still wound tightly into his pajama shirt, as if she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go of him. 

Now that their brief peace had been disrupted, Lockwood found himself unable to fall back asleep for a long time. Instead, he stared at the ceiling as he listened to Lucy breathe. A twisted knot formed in his stomach as he wondered what kind of nightmare would cause her to call out his name.  

When Lockwood woke up again, sunlight was beginning to stream through the windows. He was still wrapped protectively around Lucy, his arm looped across her waist and his face pressed into her hair. He adjusted his position slightly, but was careful not to disturb her. 

As he waited for her to wake up, Lockwood thought about what he was going to say to her today. The kissing from the night before almost seemed almost like a dream now. They desperately needed to talk. He was still muddling through the possibilities, idly tracing patterns on Lucy’s back with a fingertip, when he felt her stir awake. 

“Lockwood?” she said hesitantly. 

“Hmm?” She squirmed slightly against him, and Lockwood realized how tightly he was holding her. He loosened his grip so she could pull away, her head coming to rest on the pillow next to his.

He studied Lucy’s face. The distress of the night before had bled through; her dark circles rivaled his own, and her complexion was paler than normal. 

“How are you?” he asked softly. “Any more nightmares?”

She sighed. “Thankfully, no.”

“It seemed bad. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lucy shook her head. “No. But thank you. Sorry you have to keep taking care of me.” She looked vaguely embarrassed and uncertain, some of this weekend’s earlier shyness creeping into her expression. 

“No need to apologize,” he said, shaking his head. “I know what nightmares are like. I’m glad I was here.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” she whispered, like it was a secret. 

“Luce,” he said hesitantly, weighing how to balance being honest with not scaring her off. Every word he’d planned now felt stuck in his throat, so he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear instead, letting his fingers linger on her face. “The truth of the matter is… I’ve been happier being here with you this weekend than I’ve been in a very long time.” 

Lucy gave him a small smile in response, and she reached out and tentatively touched his face. While the cover of darkness had made them both braver and bolder, this morning she seemed more cautious.  

Lockwood closed his eyes and soaked up her touch. Her fingertips traced from his forehead down his nose and across his cheekbones to his jaw line. She trailed her fingers down the side of his neck, tracing the outline of the silvery white scar that rested there. When he cracked his eyes open again, she was staring at him, the warm light of the sunrise streaming through the windows behind her. The combination was so bright it was almost blinding.

“Is there something wrong with my face?” Her expression was so serious he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Lockwood, how did you get this scar again?” Lucy asked quietly, her fingers still curled against the side of his neck. The warmth of her palm seeped through to his bones. 

“Just a cut I got on a case,” he dismissed. He started to reach for her, but she pulled back slightly, propping herself up on an elbow next to him. 

“What exactly happened?” 

“What’s it matter?” Lockwood said, falling on his back and looking over at her. Lucy stared back at him, and he realized she wasn’t going to let this go until he told her the full story. 

“I did a solo job a few weeks after you left. Not my best case.” He paused for a moment remembering how restless he’d been that day, looking for anything to distract him from Lucy’s empty seat at the kitchen table, from Holly’s well meaning suggestion that they look into hiring another Listener.

But Lucy was here with him now, and she was still waiting for him to continue, so he did. “The couple said they thought it was a Shade, so I went on my own to take care of it after another case. But it was a Phantasm. You know me—I couldn’t hear it. And it was a tricky one. Angry. Lonely. Even with my Sight, I could barely see it. I found the Source, but it wasn’t pretty getting there.” 

Lockwood could still feel the glass of the window breaking as he stumbled back into it; he could hear George yelling at him as he worked to stanch the blood flow once he’d returned to Portland Row. George had been furious on multiple counts—that he hadn’t given him time to research the haunting properly, that he’d come home rather than gone straight to A&E to get stitches, and mostly that it hadn’t been the first time this winter that he’d done something so foolhardy. 

The blood stains on his shirt had been so bad, even Holly hadn’t been able to clean it. She’d also scolded him for his recklessness and had given him disapproving and concerned looks for weeks.

Lucy’s eyes were wide, pinning him in place. “Lockwood,” she said softly, biting her lip. She slowly traced the scar again with her fingertip. “You shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t risk yourself like that.” 

Lockwood gave her a tight smile, desperate to change the subject. “It was just a bad night, Luce. We’ve all had them. I don’t want to dwell on it. Not right now—not while I’m here with you.” He let his hand curl around the curve of her cheek. “Okay?” 

She threw her arms around him in response and buried her face in his chest. “You have to stay safe,” she said into his pajama shirt. Her words were fierce, almost like they were a threat. “I need you to stay safe.”

“Luce, I’m fine. Come here?” He gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling her up so he could see her face. Lucy’s eyes were bright and intense as they met his, and she stared at him like he was the best thing she’d ever seen. 

Lockwood swallowed. Had Lucy always looked at him like that? There were words lurking under his skin, threatening to spill over at any moment. Come home, Lucy. Stay with me forever.  

But it was all too much, too soon. 

He pushed the words down, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he opted to trail kisses from Lucy’s cheekbone to her nose to the corner of her mouth to her jaw line, echoing the same path her fingertips had traced across his skin. Unlike the night before’s tentativeness and then urgency, this was sleepy and lazy and sweet, but Lucy wasn’t content to leave it there.

She surged forward to kiss him in response, and there was a tinge of desperation in how her mouth collided with his, a more frantic edge in how tight she was clutching him, her breath hot against his skin. All the while, she held on to any bit of him she could find—his arms, his shoulders, the front of his pajama top. 

“Luce,” Lockwood let out a small laugh as he pulled back slightly. “Slow down.” 

She continued onwards like she hadn’t heard him, and for once, Lockwood was grateful for her seeming inability to listen to him. Her lips pressed against the corner of his mouth and then slid down the side of his neck, lingering on the scar located there, like she could make it disappear through the force of her kisses.

Lockwood let the sensations pull him under again. “Luce,” he breathed, barely holding back a groan.

One second later, his lips were on hers again, and Lucy was sighing into his mouth. Lockwood decided he could stay here, like this, with her, forever. He never wanted to leave this bed, not even if—

Shit. The conference. 

Reality abruptly crashed in on him, and Lockwood reluctantly pulled away and looked over the alarm clock. Sure enough, if they didn’t get moving now, they were going to be late. 

“Lockwood?” Lucy gave him a quizzical look.

He nodded towards the clock, unable to hide that he was still struggling to get a handle on his breathing. “It’s, uh, probably time for us to get up.” 

“Oh.” Lucy looked as disappointed as he felt. 

Lockwood let his lips brush against her forehead. “A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt though, would they?”

“Nope,” she responded, her mouth finding his again.

Needless to say, they were late for breakfast. 

In fact, they had barely managed to drag themselves away from each other long enough to get ready for the day. They also hadn’t talked, so Lockwood’s carefully rehearsed speech remained on the tip of his tongue. 

His mind was still buzzing with everything that had happened in the past twelve hours as he helped himself to breakfast. He was so distracted that he didn’t even realize he’d gotten two glasses of orange juice with pulp until he saw Lucy’s grimace as she tasted hers. He apologized for the momentary lapse in his memory, but she just shrugged it off. 

Not the best start to their breakfast, but Lockwood was still basking in the glow of the morning, so he decided to move forward. “I was thinking,” he said, carefully tracking Lucy’s expression, “That it might be nice if we had dinner together tonight. We could go somewhere when we get to London—or you’re up for it, we could go back to Portland Row and get takeaway from that Thai place you like. I know George would like to see you.” 

Lucy started in surprise. “I can’t,” she said quickly. “I have a case tonight.”

The quick dismissal stung, but Lockwood tried his best to hide it. “You aren’t taking the night off?” 

“No. I’m booked all week already from the backlog of the conference.” 

“Oh.” His planned follow up offer of another day later in the week died on his lips. Lucy remained quiet, as she looked out the window rather than meeting his gaze. “Are you feeling okay, Luce?” 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Lucy’s eyes flicked toward him briefly before she returned to staring out the window. “I don’t sleep well after nightmares.”

The weight of everything unsaid between them hung in the air. Between his feelings and her nightmare, Lockwood wasn’t sure what to bring up next. Like a coward, he went for the nightmare, figuring it was safer territory since she’d already mentioned it. After all, they were in a public place; perhaps this wasn’t the moment for his planned speech. 

“I was going to ask you about that actually,” he said, leaning forward slightly. 

“About what?” Lucy was suddenly back to that skittish, caged animal look. 

“Lucy,” he said cautiously, like he was speaking to a feral cat. “I heard you say my name during your nightmare last night—and then you were so upset when you woke up. Do you remember it?”

“No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Now Lockwood was sure something was going on. Lucy truly looked frightened, but he didn’t understand why or why she was clearly lying to him.

“Did something about it upset you? Did I do something to upset you?” He prodded gently. “I want you to tell me if I did anything that made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“Safe,” Lucy muttered. Her face twisted before her expression shuttered. “Later,” she said finally. “We can talk about it later, alright? I need to go to my first session now or I’ll be late.” 

“Lucy, are you sure you're okay?” What Lockwood wanted to say was, Are you sure we’re okay?

She gave him a quick smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. See you in a bit, Lockwood.” 

“I’ll meet you back at our room during the next break?” He caught her hand, wanting desperately to keep her with him for a moment longer. 

She nodded quickly, letting her hand slip from his as she pulled away. 

Her unfinished orange juice was still sitting on the table. 

Due to their separate course schedules, Lockwood didn’t see Lucy for the rest of the morning. He barely paid attention to his sessions, still consumed with worry about the strange, distant turn their morning had taken. 

At the break, he was derailed by a conversation with the staff from Dullop & Tweed for several minutes before he could escape to their room. When he arrived, the door to the bathroom was closed. Muffled noises that suspiciously sounded like crying filtered out from under the door. 

Lockwood gave the door a light tap. “Luce, I’m here. Are you okay? Can I come in?” 

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called back, her voice rough.

The sinking feeling in Lockwood’s stomach grew as he sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what fate awaited him. Finally, the door creaked open, and Lucy shuffled out. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she had clearly just wiped away tears. 

“Luce,” Lockwood said gently. He reached a hand out towards her, but she didn’t come any closer. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” He heard the fear in his voice and wondered if she could hear it too. 

Lucy looked at him with an expression of resignation that he’d seen only one time before—the day she had announced she was leaving Lockwood & Co. He knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. No, not again, he thought desperately. Please.

“Lockwood, this—last night—it was nice, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep doing this,” she said, toeing at the rug with her boot. Well, that was Lucy—never beating around the bush when she could instead stomp on his heart.

“Nice,” he repeated flatly. 

“I think I made an error in judgment.” She was once again refusing to meet his eyes, determinedly looking at his chin. 

“I see.” Lockwood was already starting to feel an ache between his eyes, as the worst case of malaise he’d had ever experienced descended on him. “And what about this morning, Lucy? Was that an error too?” 

He remembered then how Lucy had kissed him before they went to breakfast—frantically, desperately, like it was the last time she’d ever do it. The bittersweet expression on her face as she’d pulled away from him flashed before his eyes. She was going to walk out on him again, and this time it would be even worse now that he knew the full extent of what he was losing. 

Lucy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just—I was confused, and you were here and you’ve been so kind to me this weekend—”

Lockwood recoiled at the casual twist of the knife in her words. “I was here?” He stood and stalked further into the room, staring out the window and running his hand through his hair agitatedly. 

“Lockwood, I didn’t—” she said, her voice taking on a desperate note. 

“Is that all I am to you, Lucy?” he said quietly, still facing away from her. “Just someone who happened to be around when you were lonely?”

“No, no, that’s not it,” she said plaintively. “That’s not what I meant at all. You’re so much more than that.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.” He chanced a brief glance at her, and she looked stricken. 

“I didn’t think that you—I didn’t want to assume that this meant more to you,” she said. “You didn’t say that you wanted that—”

Lockwood felt a muscle in his jaw clench. “Come on, Lucy. You know me. You know I wouldn’t have done this unless I was sure how I felt, what I wanted.” 

“No, I don’t know, Lockwood,” she said, some of her old frustration with him creeping into her tone. “I can’t read your mind. I spent all weekend thinking you wanted me to come back to the agency and trying to understand why you were acting this way. Do you know how confusing that was for me?”

He stared out the window without really seeing. The fountain he’d sat at with Lucy the afternoon before was barely visible in the distance. The gardens surrounding it were still all dead from the cold of winter. 

“Well, now you’re not the only one who’s confused. I thought we were finally getting somewhere. But now I see that just wishful thinking on my part.” Lockwood turned back towards her. 

“I thought that maybe there was a way I could do this.” Lucy chewed on her bottom lip. “That if we weren’t going on cases together… it would be okay. But I can’t.”

“You can’t?” he said slowly. “Or you don’t want to?” 

“Lockwood.” She took another deep breath. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now.”

“Is that another rule?” he said bitterly. 

She let out a tortured laugh. “Because we’ve done such a good job of following them?”

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about here, Lucy. The agency or this?” He gestured between the two of them. 

“Is there any difference?” 

“There could be. If you wanted there to be. We don’t have to work together again, but we could figure something out—” He hesitantly took a step back towards her, but Lucy cut him off, making his heart sink. 

“I don’t think there’s a separation between those two things for me, Lockwood. I’m not coming back. I can’t.” 

“Fine, but please don’t just leave again,” he said desperately, not even caring that he was already begging her. “I stuck to my promise to you. I haven’t asked you to come back.” 

“Oh, come on.” She waved her hands. “You’re saying that you didn’t do all of this because you wanted me to come back?” 

“Of course I want you to come home, Lucy,” he snapped. “I never wanted you to leave at all.”

“So did you do it all just to convince me to come back? Was that the reason why you kissed me?” Her face crumpled. 

Lockwood stared at her, aghast at the implication that he’d use her feelings as a pawn in some twisted game. Now he really felt like he was going to be sick. “Lucy, I’d never manipulate you like that. I told you that I wasn’t pretending. This—between us—how I feel about you—it’s…” As always, he struggled to find the words. “It’s real,” he finally managed to say. 

“You never did anything before,” she said helplessly. “You never said.”

“Because I couldn’t,” he burst out. “You’re my best friend, Lucy. You worked for me. I never knew if you wanted me to do anything about it, and I had to be sure. And then you left, and I didn’t know what to think.”

“Well, what was I supposed to think this weekend when you didn’t tell me any of that? You said this was just business, but then you were acting like you’re really my boyfriend. This was all your idea, Lockwood, and I never knew what to do with any of it.” 

“Yes,” Lockwood said bleakly, feeling utterly defeated. “It was my idea. Because I’ve missed you so fucking much that if there was any excuse to spend three days with you, I was going to take it. Because I care about you so much that I spent all winter trying to find a way to get you back or to even convince you to have coffee with me. All in the hope that someday, hopefully you would…” His jaw clenched, and he couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“What do you want me to say, Lockwood? That I” —Lucy’s voice caught again, and she had to choke back a sob— “that I don’t care about you?” 

All Lockwood wanted to do was reach for her, but he refused to let himself. All he did was want her close to him, and wanting her never got him anywhere. “This—between us—it’s always been there, hasn’t it, Luce? I thought we were just finally admitting it.”

Lucy didn’t answer him, still blinking back tears. The silence made him want to scream. 

“Come on, Lucy,” he said bitterly. “Tell me I’m imagining all of this if you don’t agree.”

“Lockwood, it doesn’t matter,” she said, looking away from him again. “It doesn’t change anything.”

There was something about all of this that wasn’t adding up, and that awareness festered in the back of his mind, like a pebble stuck in his shoe that he couldn’t remove. “There’s something going on here that I don’t understand—something I did wrong that you won’t even let me try to fix. Some honesty would be nice, Lucy.”

“For the last time, Lockwood, I’m a danger to you,” she said, her voice wrecked, her breath uneven.

He closed the remaining distance between them with two large steps. They were almost touching now.

“That excuse is pretty thin these days,” he pushed. “You aren’t hesitating to use your Talent with every other agency in London. You’ve said you didn’t leave because of Holly, and I believe you. You’ve even admitted that we’re still a good team. I thought that my feelings for you were so obvious that you were uncomfortable, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the case either. So what is it about me that’s the problem?” 

Once again, Lucy shut down, as she continued to stare at the floor. Lockwood could feel that he was going to lose her again, for good this time, all his work and strategizing this weekend down the drain. Despite being a much shorter conversation, this had already managed to become so much worse than their conversation at the cafe. 

“Luce,” he said softly, a final, last ditch effort. “Why are we having this conversation? Why won’t you come home?”

Tears were streaming down Lucy’s face, and she wiped at her cheeks roughly, still not speaking. 

“Lucy, please look at me,” Lockwood begged, finally letting himself reach for her, feeling raw and exposed. “I know you’re worried about something, but I trust you with my life.” 

She flinched at those words again for reasons he didn’t understand, jerking away from him. “Because your life means so much to you?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You said you’d die for me, Lockwood.”  

“What about it? After all of this, everything that we’ve been through together, you don’t think I meant it?” 

“I know you meant it. That’s the whole point. That’s why I can’t come back. Because you will die, and I can’t let that happen.” The desperate note in Lucy’s voice was back, and eyes looked haunted again. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying. Obviously, I’d die for you—because I love you, Lucy,” he said exasperated. 

Before he even processed the words, Lockwood heard Lucy’s sharp intake of breath and saw an intense look of shock come over her face. He slammed his mouth closed, afraid more confessions would escape unbidden. Now he couldn’t stand to look at her, so he turned away, covering his eyes with his hand. While part of him wanted to immediately take the words back, he knew he couldn’t deny the truth of them. Not to himself and certainly not to Lucy. 

Lockwood’s voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. “God, Lucy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with that. I’m sorry for all of this mess. I never meant to hurt you or to make you feel like I was manipulating you. I’ll go now and let you do whatever it is that you need to do.” 

Without realizing it, his feet took him to the door and away from her. 

Chapter Text

Without a room of his own to flee to and no privacy to be found at the conference, Lockwood ordered a cup of tea and retreated to the most hidden corner of the on-site coffee shop. 

He sat there, wondering again what the hell had led him here. Somehow he was leaving this weekend in an even worse state than he had started it. He had made a fool of himself with Lucy, and there was no way she’d ever want to associate with him now. When George found out, he was going to be livid. 

The two things he wanted more than anything else had been so close this morning—Lucy back by his side, Lucy in his arms—before they had been jerked away again. He had never felt like more of a fool for his optimism, for daring to entertain the hope that Lucy might actually feel the same way about him after everything that had happened before she left. Like Icarus, he had dreamed too big and flown too close to the sun. Getting too close to Lucy had only resulted in him getting burned.

Lockwood still couldn’t believe that he had slipped and told Lucy he loved her. The long repressed words were now finally free. The last time he remembered telling someone he loved them was shortly before Jessica died, after she would tuck him into bed each night. While he had hoped to someday say them to Lucy, he had never imagined it occurring in such a messy situation.

He was still brooding in that corner, when one of the last people he wanted to see appeared.

“Tony,” Kipps said, nodding at him. 

“Hi,” Lockwood said dully, unwilling to even venture an attempt at charm, hoping that would drive Kipps away. He wasn’t that lucky though, and Kipps didn’t take the hint, instead settling into the seat across from him. 

“Where’s your girlfriend? The two of you have been positively attached at the hip all weekend until now.” Kipps sniffed at his coffee and made a face before he took a sip. 

Lockwood let out a bitter laugh at the realization that he was going to have to talk to Lucy again so they could get their story straight. Perhaps he could just hand her a note saying they could tell everyone they broke up and be done with it. At this point, it wasn’t that far from the truth, although Lucy had ended things before they’d even had a chance to really begin. 

“To be honest, I’m not quite sure where Lucy is—and I’m starting to think that she’d prefer it that way,” he said instead. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Kipps quipped. 

“Kipps,” Lockwood said roughly. “I’m not up for talking if that wasn’t already abundantly clear. And I’m really not in the mood to be fuel for the gossip mill.” 

“How very unlike you, Tony—on both accounts. There truly must be something wrong with you. Sure you aren’t ill?” 

Lockwood slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose that’s not inaccurate.” 

Kipps took another drink of his coffee. “In all seriousness, Tony, if you don’t mind me saying it, I’m sure you and Lucy will sort out whatever lover’s quarrel you’re going through at the moment. There’s always bumps along the road in any relationship.” 

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” Lockwood said flatly. 

Kipps raised an eyebrow. “I don’t, do I? Well, tell me what’s going on then. At least it will be a distraction from my own problems. I assure you, your personal drama probably isn’t gossip worthy, so I'll have no incentive to share.” 

“What has my life come to?” Lockwood muttered, letting out a harsh exhale. How was he seriously considering talking to Quill Kipps about his relationship with Lucy? But Kipps was older and more experienced if the rumors could be believed. It also wasn’t like he had other options at the moment. 

“To be clear, I wasn’t offering you advice about anything related to the physical parts of your relationship,” Kipps said, his smug expression turning to a grimace. 

“And I wasn’t asking for it!” Lockwood shot back, feeling his ears start to heat.

“Well, that’s where I draw the line in this little interaction. Just thought I should be clear about that before we continue.”

Lockwood shook his head firmly. “Trust me, I can live happily never discussing anything of that sort with you.” 

“Then, it sounds like we’re firmly in the emotional realm. No wonder you’re having issues, Tony.” Kipps clucked his tongue. “Not exactly a strong suit of yours, is it?”  

He glowered at Kipps before conceding, “No, it’s not.” His jaw clenched, but he forced the next words out. “Every time I think we’re getting somewhere—every time I open up to Lucy and we get closer—we’re okay for a bit…” He thought back to talking to Lucy under Aickmere’s and the conversation they’d had before breakfast. “But then I mess it up somehow, and she bolts.”

Kipps nodded. “That sounds difficult.” 

“It is. I’m not good at this, at opening up to people, even when I want to. And I’ve been trying so hard with her.” 

“Has she told you what she’s upset about?” 

“Ever since last autumn, something’s been off. Lucy’s worried about her Talent. That’s why we don’t work together any longer. She claims she’s afraid that she’s a danger to us. And hell, I’m worried about her Talent.” Lockwood hesitated for a moment, meeting Kipps’ eyes. “You saw what happened at Aickmere’s. And I want to be there for her, and she won’t let me.” 

“Sounds like she’s scared for you,” Kipps observed. 

“That’s what she claims. But it’s not stopping her from working with everyone else. Even you,” he said darkly.  

“Right. Because she’s scared for you, Tony. Probably because she cares about you.” 

Lockwood felt his entire body tense. “Lucy doesn’t care about me the way I care about her.” 

Kipps laughed. “What the hell are you going on about? No one with eyes would believe that.”  

“Then, why does she keep pushing me away?” he snapped. 

“And am I to believe that you’re always completely open with Lucy?” Kipps’s skepticism was obvious. 

Lockwood thought then of the twisted web he had woven this weekend. While this arrangement had started with the noble goal of having Lucy in his life again, it had become a tangled mess of flimsy excuses and half truths. He had foregone actually being vulnerable, offered Lucy a sham of a relationship, and muddied the waters by letting his desire for her get the best of him before he had properly clarified his feelings. While it hadn’t been purposeful, in a way he had manipulated her. A fresh wave of guilt rolled over him. No wonder Lucy had questioned his intentions. 

“As we’ve discussed, that isn’t one of my strengths,” he said finally. 

Kipps’s voice was almost unbearably kind as he said, “I’ll tell you one thing, Lockwood. Not talking about it isn’t going to get you very far either.”

That was true. Lockwood had pushed Lucy away after Wintergarden as he tried to sort through his own feelings, and it had backfired on him. After the mess of last autumn, he should have known better than to risk having her misinterpret his actions. Soon they would be back in London, and he wouldn’t have any excuses to see Lucy again. If nothing else, he could offer her an apology for the disaster he’d made. 

“Kipps,” he said. “Thank you. I appreciate this. If there’s ever anything I can do for you—”

Kipps waved his hands dismissively. “All in a day’s work. It’s hardly the first time I’ve done this.” 

Lockwood raised his eyebrow in a question. 

“Don’t you know, Tony?” Kipps gave him a sardonic smile. “Being a supervisor is half trying to keep agents from getting killed and half playing therapist to deal with their interpersonal drama.” 

He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up despite himself.  “I suppose I see where you’re coming from there.” 

“Well, I need to meet Kat and Bobby,” Kipps said, getting to his feet. “What about you?” 

Lockwood shook his head. His mind was still far too muddled to comprehend trying to do anything professional. “I think I’m going to get some air.” 

Lockwood’s feet traced a familiar path through the gardens until he found himself at the bench by the fountain from the day before. 

He was still mulling over his next steps when the sound of shoes crunching on the gravel alerted him to someone’s presence. Lucy’s face appeared around the corner. Her boots were scuffed, the laces worn. He remembered her wearing them the night of the carnival as he ran beside her; he could picture them toppled over sideways in the entryway of Portland Row. Now it seemed she was going to wear them to walk away from him again.

“Hi.” Lucy’s face was cautious. Lockwood supposed he looked like the caged animal now. “I’ve been looking for you. Mind if I join you?”

He offered her a weak attempt at a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace. “Go ahead.” He jerked his head to the bench, and she took a seat next to him. 

“I know we’re rubbish at it, but can we try talking again?” she said softly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Lucy had already broken his heart twice. He might as well let her do it a third time. It was best that they get this over with. 

"Yes,” he said, nodding. "There's something I want to say, too.” 

"Me first, okay?" Lucy said hurriedly. She took a deep breath, like she was gathering her courage. “Lockwood, you asked earlier about the nightmare I had last night. It was the ghost from Aickmere’s.” 

That wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say. “The Fetch?”

“Yes.”

His brow furrowed. “You said you didn’t recognize it.” 

Lucy’s anguished screams had haunted his dreams for weeks after Aickmere’s, and Lockwood had privately wondered if there was more to the story given her intense reaction. He’d thought perhaps she’d seen Norrie or one of her former teammates, but that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing. He hadn’t wanted to pry, and then Lucy had left before he ever learned if there was more to the story.

“Well, that wasn’t true. The Fetch—it was you, Lockwood,” Lucy flinched as she said the words. 

“Me?”

“Yes. It showed me the future—a future in which you’d died for me. And since you always risk yourself for my sake, I knew it would happen, sooner or later,” she said softly. “And then with what you said—well, it just felt like a confirmation of that.” 

He let that sink in for a minute. “Do you dream about it a lot?” 

“Yes,” she confirmed, a slight tremor in her voice. “I see—I see you die, and it’s because you’re trying to save me.” 

His mind was slowly slotting all the pieces together—Lucy’s strange behavior when he’d found her under Aickmere’s, her abrupt departure, her reluctance to join him this weekend, what she had said during their argument. 

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat. “That’s why I left.”

He nodded slowly, looking down in his lap. “I see.” 

“And that’s why I said what I said earlier. Not because it was what I wanted,” she said hesitantly, “but because it’s what I had to do to keep you safe.” 

“Thank you for telling me. I’m glad you did.” 

She nodded. The silence between them grew again, both of them looking off into the distance  at the fountain.

For once, Lockwood could read between the lines of what Lucy wasn’t saying. She had given up the only home she’d ever cared about to go live in a lonely flat and work with teams she detested, all in an attempt to save his life. In his darkest moments over the past months, he had found himself wondering if Lucy cared about him at all, and the truth felt a bit like a warm breeze on a first day of spring—surprising but life-giving. Lockwood didn’t feel quite worthy of that sacrifice—a sacrifice he now realized Lucy had made because she cared for him—but he was determined not to squander it. 

And there was only one place for him to start. 

He turned to face her. “I owe you an apology.” 

“You?” Lucy said, startled. “Why?”

“I never should have suggested pretending to be together this weekend, Lucy. I should have been upfront with you all along, even if it was because I thought you’d tell me to get lost. And last night, this morning…” He paused before continuing onwards. “We should have talked before I ever let it get to that point. I’m sorry, Lucy, for making you doubt, even for a minute, my intentions towards you. I’m sorry for not admitting that the real reason I came here this weekend was to get you back. To get you to give me another chance.”

“All this, for me?” she said quietly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lockwood felt the burn of the words as he laid himself bare. “I know I messed everything up, but I hope someday you will be able to forgive me.” 

“Lockwood.” Lucy’s face softened. “I understand now why you did it, even though this was one of the more ridiculous schemes you’ve ever come up with.” 

“I can’t disagree with that,” he said, venturing a half smile at her.

“And I went along with it, didn’t I?” she admitted. 

He couldn’t resist asking the question he had wondered about all weekend. “Why did you go along with it?”  

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucy said, echoing his own words back at him, as she gave him a bittersweet smile. 

Lockwood felt hope bloom in his chest, and he let out a low breath. “Well, Luce,” he said bravely. “In that case, I’d like to know what you do want. Despite all of your concerns, you’ve ended up even more tangled up with me than ever before.” 

“I don’t feel like what I want matters much,” she said. “Not when your life is at stake.” 

“On the contrary, I think what you want matters a great deal.” He shook his head, as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. “You know I’ve lost someone I’ve cared about because of a ghost. And I know you’ve lost people, too. But I don’t want to let that dictate how I spend the time I do have.” He met Lucy’s gaze; her eyes were starting to look misty. “I think you help keep me safe, Luce. We’re good together—in every way. At least I think we could be, if you wanted to try. So if you don’t want this, that’s fine, it’s your choice. But I do think it should be your decision. Because this… this is just me losing you the same way.” 

Lucy was quiet as she absorbed his words. “Did you mean what you said earlier?” she said finally. 

“Which part?”

“Lockwood, don’t play dumb. You know bloody well which part,” she huffed, her eyes piercing in that way that felt like she was looking into his soul. “Do you really…”

“Love you?” 

She nodded, as nervousness overtook her features. “You were upset. I’d understand if you didn’t mean it, and I don’t expect—” 

“Lucy,” he said gently, stopping her. Knowing he’d already said the words somehow made them easier to get out now, even though doing so intentionally still felt like freefalling off a cliff. But he didn’t look away this time. He never wanted to look away from her again. “Of course I love you.” He started to reach a hand out to her, but then hesitated, still not sure how she was feeling.

“Well, I suppose that’s convenient then.” She gave him a wobbly smile, her eyes brimming with unshed tears again. 

“And why is that?” 

Lucy’s hand slowly reached across the divide to find his, their fingers linking together, the touch making his heart pound. “Because I love you, too,” she said softly. 

Lockwood let out a ragged exhale, unaware until that moment that he had been holding his breath. “You do?”

She nodded solemnly, her smile growing larger. “I do. I have for a stupidly long time.”

Lockwood surged forward, folding Lucy into his arms and holding her tight, her body against his once again the most natural feeling in the world. He buried his face in her hair, feeling a lump form in his throat, as she wound her arms around him in return. 

“Luce,” he said, feeling his heart race. “Can I trouble you to say that again for me?” 

“What? That we’re both bloody idiots?” 

Lockwood let out a breathless laugh. “Lucy, please. You know what I meant.” He pulled back to meet her gaze. 

“I do,” she said, her eyes bright and intense again. Lockwood felt a rush of recognition as he realized that Lucy was looking at him again the same way she had earlier that morning. “I love you, Lockwood.” 

He couldn’t hold back the words any longer then. “Luce, please come home. Whatever time we have, I just know I want to spend it with you. I don’t want to be without you any longer.” 

She nodded, her hands clutching the lapels of his coat, her breath mingling with his. “Alright. I’ll come back. There’s just a few things we need to figure out.”

Lockwood felt his heart fill to the bursting. “Whatever you want,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead before she impatiently tugged his mouth back to hers. He could feel Lucy’s lips curl into a smile against his when he kissed her, all her previous hesitation gone.

Ten minutes or a lifetime later, they had started kissing again and Lockwood had halfway pulled Lucy into his lap, eager to finally have her as close to him as possible, when Quill Kipps stumbled upon them while out on a walk of his own. 

“Christ,” Kipps yelped, covering his eyes and falling backwards in revulsion. “I thought you two were fighting—dear Lord, I’d tell you to get a room, but don’t you already have one?” 

Lucy let out a mortified squeak and glared at Kipps, but all Lockwood could do was grin. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to stop smiling.

“Sorry, Kipps,” he called. “Thanks again for your help.” 

“You don’t seem sorry,” Kipps scoffed, turning back in the opposite direction. “Fucking teenagers.”

Kipps’s arrival did remind them that they hadn’t eaten since breakfast and there was still a general closing session to attend. They managed to untangle themselves from each other enough to make it back to the conference, even though Lockwood was tempted to abandon it entirely. 

They had a quick final lunch with James and Sarah, and Lockwood made plans to meet up with  James back in London. Then, it was time to head to the final session. Halfway through, Lockwood snuck his hand into Lucy’s, and she grinned at him as she interlaced their fingers. 

After that, it was time to collect their bags and head to the train station. They settled into two seats next to each other, and Lucy turned to face him. They'd barely had a moment alone since they’d been in the garden together

“Lockwood, there are things we should talk about,” she said, looking apprehensive.  

Lockwood nodded. “I know.” He produced a pen and an extra conference pamphlet from one of his coat pockets. “We have this train ride, Luce. Let’s see what we can figure out.” 

“Another agreement?” Lucy said, a smirk slowly coming over her face. 

He gave her a broad smile, as he tapped the pen on the table. “The first one worked out all right for us in the end, didn’t it?”

An hour and a half later, they emerged from the train with a rough plan scratched out on the back of the pamphlet. They were holding hands while walking through the station, both smiling like idiots, when a familiar face from the night before stopped them to say hello. 

“Lovely seeing you all again!” Mrs. Clarke said kindly. She gave their interlaced hands a fond look. “You two act like you’ve been together for so long.”

Lucy gave him a tentative smile. “How long has it been again, Lockwood?”

He winked back at her. “About five hours. Does that sound correct, Luce?”

Mrs. Clarke’s expression immediately exhibited her confusion, but Lockwood distracted her by quickly saying, “Also, Mrs. Clarke, Lucy and I have been talking, and I think we can perhaps handle that case for you together after all. I’ll follow up tomorrow, and we can get everything arranged.”

Mrs. Clarke beamed at them. “How wonderful! Looking forward to it.” After a final wave goodbye, she set off on her way. 

While they had agreed on the train that they would try to take things slow, that didn’t stop Lockwood from sweeping Lucy into arms and kissing her goodbye until they were both breathless, their bags at their feet and her hands in his hair.

“I wish you could come home with me,” he murmured when they finally broke apart.

“You know I can’t,” she said, her fingers still combing through the hair at the nape of his neck in the way he had already learned he liked very much. “I have to go back to my flat—get ready for my case tonight, check in with the skull.” 

“I know.” He didn’t bother to hold back a sigh. “But we’ll talk soon?”

“I’ll call you,” Lucy agreed. “And you still have my number?”

“Memorized,” he admitted, making Lucy beam. “Come on, I’ll walk you to get a cab.” 

As they exited the train station together, Lockwood threw his arm around Lucy’s shoulder, pulling her into his side. “We should go to conferences together more often, Luce. We’d get more things ironed out.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Lucy laughed, tugging on his tie so she could kiss him again. 

Lockwood arrived at Portland Row to find George puttering around the kitchen with a huge amount of pots and pans, cooking enough food to feed them for at least a week.  

“Hello George!” he said cheerfully. 

“Lockwood.” George eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you look so happy? Is this how a weekend of professional networking makes you act? Because if so, we should send you away more often.” 

Lockwood rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know that some of us don’t find socializing as distasteful as you do.”

“Hmm.” George made a noise of disapproval. He stirred a pot of khoreh fesenjan on the hob, before turning to face him again. “So tell me—how did it go with Lucy? Did you ask her to come back?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Lockwood said, giving him a wide smile. “Lucy’s going to stop by on Tuesday afternoon so we can talk about some plans as a team. She’s agreed to do a few cases with us again on a trial basis—with the intention of it becoming full time again if it goes well. She wants to talk to you about it first though before we make any permanent changes.”

“I’ll be damned,” George said, sounding impressed as he shook his head. “You actually did it. Lucy coming back after everything… How was everything else? How is Luce doing?”

“Well,” Lockwood began before he paused. Perhaps it would be better to just be out with it. “I think you’ll also be seeing Lucy around a bit more in another capacity.” 

“What’s that mean, Lockwood?” 

Telling George that he was dating Lucy with a straight face was one of the more difficult tasks Lockwood had encountered all weekend. “It’s just—” he started and then stopped, giving George a sheepish grin. 

George waved his hand at the many bubbling pots requiring his attention. “Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“Lucy and I talked—”

“Had to be the first time that’s ever happened.”

Lockwood glowered at him. “I’ll have you know that we actually used to talk quite frequently before—well, that’s not the point, George. The point is we talked about the couple’s registration and decided we should make it official.” 

George blinked at him owlishly. “Are you saying that Lucy put us all out of our misery by finally agreeing to date you?” 

“Yes?” he offered meekly.

“What did you do—snog her until she agreed to come back?”

“No, George, it wasn’t like—well—” Lockwood stopped and scratched his nose. Technically, that wasn’t completely untrue. 

“You know what, I don’t want to know the details of whatever happened between you two.” George gave him another serious look. “We’re going to need some ground rules if Lucy moves back in. I can’t be watching the two of you be insufferable all the time. I have more important things to do.” 

Lockwood barked out a laugh, remembering how poorly he and Lucy had managed to uphold their rules over the weekend. “Noted, George,” he said wryly. “Although I have to warn you, Lucy and I aren’t the best at following rules.” 

George stared at him. “Tell me something I don’t already know, Lockwood.”

Two weeks later, Lockwood found himself walking down an empty shabby apartment block hallway until he reached his destination. He knocked on the door several times, knowing it might take awhile to rouse the occupant. As he waited, he leaned back on his heels, carefully juggling two packages. 

He grinned as the door opened and Lucy appeared, scratching her back and yawning. She was once again wearing her gray pajamas, and her hair was sticking up slightly on the side. She had obviously just crawled out of bed. 

“Hey, Luce,” he said, ducking his head and giving her a quick kiss hello.

“Lockwood, what are you doing here?” she asked, a smile breaking out over her face even as she unsuccessfully stifled a second yawn. “I was going to call you later—” 

“I know, and I’m sorry that I woke you. But I had such exciting news, I wanted to tell you in person. I also brought you breakfast,” he said, raising the box in his right hand.

Her eyes lit up. “Arif’s?” 

“Just for you. And hopefully you’ll share with me.” 

She gestured for him to come inside. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, I suppose I can manage that. What else do you have here?” He passed her the plastic bag, and her cheeks colored slightly. “Oh! My laundry. Thanks. Do you want tea?”

“Please.”

As Lucy set the laundry aside and turned on the kettle, Lockwood looked around in her flat. While he’d been here on several occasions over the past several weeks, he’d never seen it in this state of chaos. (He did, however, suspect Lucy had frantically cleaned before he’d come over the first time given the very large trash bag that had been sitting next to the bin.) Now there were stacks of clothing on almost every surface, the sink was piled high with dirty dishes, and half empty bags of salt and iron littered the floor. 

“Luce,” he said, folding in his lips and trying not to laugh, “I thought you said you’ve been packing.”

“I have been,” she said, as she shoved the pile of paperwork on her tiny table to the side to make room for the doughnuts. 

“I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t look much like it.” 

“It has to get worse before it gets better,” she said, gesturing towards the empty suitcase and box on the floor by her bed. “I was going to work on it more today. You know I’ve been busy, especially when someone has been occupying so much of my free time.”

“No idea who that could be.” Lockwood gave Lucy a wink, as he nudged the silver glass jar with his foot. The skull was currently pulling faces at him. He determined that clearing the chairs of the jungle of clothing currently inhabiting them was more trouble than it was worth, so he took off his coat before taking a seat on Lucy’s bed. “How was your case last night? I tried to call yesterday, but you were already out.” 

“The crew from Rotwell’s wanted to meet early,” Lucy said, sighing as she put teabags into mugs. “They were generally an incompetent lot, but we managed alright in the end, even though the supervisor was insufferable and got annoyed with me.”

“It went okay though?” 

“Yes, but then I had to go to the furnaces to drop off the Source, and Harold Mailer wouldn’t stop talking to me.”

Lockwood frowned, as Lucy handed him a cup of tea made exactly the way he liked it. “I’ve never liked Harold. He seems a bit… ratty.”

“Harold’s harmless,” she dismissed. “And he’s always been friendly enough. He kept asking me questions about when I was moving.” 

“Lucy, I’m quite sure he’s more than friendly—” 

She rolled her eyes. “You would think that. But it’s finished now, and that’s the important thing, isn’t it?” she said, as she brought the doughnuts over to her bed and sat crossed legged next to him.

“Indeed. Your last freelance case, done.” 

“Yes. I wish you’d been there.” She gave a loud sigh. “You would have thought it was interesting.”

“Soon. And Luce, perhaps we’ll get to work on a big case together again even sooner than we anticipated. That’s part of why I’m here—to talk to you about a case.”

“I should have known that this news that had you so excited that you came halfway across London had to do with work.” There was a faint smile on her lips.  

“I came halfway across London to see you,” he corrected, relishing the way her smile widened. “I missed you. We’re practically in a long distance relationship with all the missed phone calls and long cab rides we’ve been doing. Work was just just an excuse.” 

“It’s only been three days since we’ve seen each other,” Lucy pointed out, but her eyes softened. 

“Fine. I came across London for business. Just business,” he teased. “Anyway, Luce, I received a rather interesting phone call yesterday.”

“Tell me more.” 

“It was Penelope Fittes.” Lucy started in surprise. “I know. Somehow she already knew you were coming back to Lockwood & Co. She said she was happy to hear it.”

“That was fast.” 

“I imagine word got around quickly after the conference, and you started declining new freelance cases. Anyway, she has a job for us—a job that needs a good Listener. A very good Listener.” 

“Hmm,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him as a knowing smile came across her face. “Wonder where you’ll find one of those on short notice.”

“I might know someone. I’m quite well connected after all. Anyway, Penelope wants to meet with us tomorrow morning about the case. I know we talked about you taking a few days off before you move later this week, but given the circumstances—” 

“Of course we can do that,” Lucy agreed easily. “Might as well get started, right?” 

Lockwood grinned. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. This opportunity, Luce—it’s everything I hoped we’d get out of the conference.” 

She rested her chin on his shoulder and tilted her head. “I thought you went to the conference because of me.”  

“Both can be true, Lucy,” he said, winking at her. 

“Silly boy,” she said fondly. “But yes, we can do that. What time tomorrow?” 

“Ten at Fittes House. Can you meet us there?” 

“Yes. Did she give you any more details?” 

“Not yet.” 

Lucy gave a decisive nod. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this—going on a case together again?” he asked. “All I know is it will be difficult and dangerous.” 

“Yes,” she affirmed. “The cases we’ve done over the past few weeks have helped.” 

Their schedules had been jam-packed since the conference, as Lucy juggled her remaining freelance cases, he worked on fielding all the new business the agency had acquired, and both of them squeezed in as much time together as possible. While Lockwood would have been happy for Lucy to immediately come back to Portland Row as a full member of Lockwood & Co., they had devised a plan to ease back into working together. They had worked several cases together, starting with Mrs. Clarke’s mansion, as part of their trial run.

As part of their trial, it had also been critical to Lucy that both George and Holly approve of her return. While she and Holly were still far from friends, they had settled into a polite, begrudging respect for each other. Meanwhile, Lucy and George had gone out for fish and chips and come back bickering, so they seemed to have repaired things as well. 

However, finding time for the two of them to spend together outside of cases hadn’t been easy, especially when they were living on opposite sides of London and both working and sleeping unpredictable hours. And now, even though they would only be separated for a few more days, Lockwood was already anxious to have Lucy by his side again. 

They both dug into the box of doughnuts as they transitioned to some final details about Lucy’s full return to Lockwood & Co. 

“We do have a few business matters to discuss,” she said. 

“Such as?” he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I want a raise. 7% increase from what I made last year. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I have a special certification from DEPRAC now.” She gave him a smug grin.

“Done,” Lockwood said promptly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her jaw. 

“That’s the easiest raise I’ve ever gotten,” Lucy complained, even as her cheeks tinged pink. “You can’t give me special treatment, Lockwood.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? This is the time when you want to bring up preferential treatment, Lucy? I’m sitting in your bed.” 

Her face took on an even deeper flush, which made him feel rather proud. “Don’t make it sound more scandalous than it is,” she scolded. “We’re only sitting here because the rest of my flat is a disaster.”

“Well, I’m not giving you special treatment. You were owed at least a 7% raise. I already told Holly to make it 10%. Frankly, I expected you to ask for more money, Luce. Remind me to teach you how to negotiate properly.” 

She poked him in the stomach, rather harder than necessary. “Who said I was done with my demands? Has George moved his clothes out of my room yet?”

He kissed her cheek. “I’ll ensure he does it today.”

“And how about an extra turn in the biscuit rotation?” she asked hopefully. 

A third kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Ah, for that, you’ll have to take it up with George, and I’m afraid he won’t be as easily persuaded as I am. I’ll put a good word in for you though. Or is that another example of special treatment?” 

“You smug prick,” Lucy laughed, grabbing her pillow and hitting him with it. 

“Okay, okay,” Lockwood chuckled as he dodged a second blow. “Are we quite done negotiating now, Luce? There’s more important business for us to take care of.”

“We are all about business, aren’t we?” She gave him a mischievous grin.

He gave her a solemn nod. “We are. But before I help you pack, I would like it if I could kiss you properly.”    

Lucy nodded back, her smile widening even as she leaned in to meet him halfway. “I think I can allow that.” 

“Luce?” Lockwood called, lingering on the steps up to the attic. 

“Yes?”

He strode up the stairs to find Lucy unpacking the last of her clothes, the skull in the jar watching on her window sill. “Unpacking going well?”

It had been a chaotic couple of weeks, even before it had culminated in Penelope Fittes and Rupert Gale showing up at 35 Portland Row the day prior, but Lucy had finally found time to start unpacking her belongings. 

Nothing about Lucy’s return had gone as planned. Between the skull being stolen, her encounter with the relic men (they'd had words about her going on her own, even if Lockwood had been on a case that night), and the ensuing chaos, she was only now getting moved in permanently.

Now Lucy smiled at him. “Yes. Almost done.”

He grinned back at her. “Good.”

“Stop it!” Lucy yelled abruptly, as she turned to glower at the skull. She stalked over to flip off the lever and turned the jar to face the window. “The skull won’t quit complaining. It’s quite grumpy with me right now. Very displeased that I’m back here. Although it did say that the surroundings were more up to its high standards than my old flat.” 

“I’m guessing he hasn’t come around to this yet either?” Lockwood stepped closer and took her hand.

“The words vile abomination were used when you came up the stairs, as well as another expression not appropriate for polite company. It’s also suggested numerous ways I can kill you when I get tired of you. It seems to think it’s only a matter of time.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m used to being criticized,” he said lightly. 

“Secretly, I think it’s pleased to be back, especially after what it went through. It just won’t admit it.” Lucy tossed another scowl at the silver glass jar. 

“Well, what about you? Are you happy to be back?”

“Never better. And look what I just found.” Lucy produced a crumpled piece of paper from a stack of clothing on her bed. “This was still in my coat pocket.” 

Lockwood threw back his head and laughed as he saw the scribbled list of their DEPRAC Conference Rules. “Well, that’s a keepsake in the making, isn’t it?” 

“It’s a pity that we’re both so bad at following rules.” There was a glint in Lucy’s eye as she tucked it into the edge of her mirror before returning to his side.

“Come off it, Lucy,” he said, grinning again. “I thought you knew that following rules wasn’t really my way when you agreed to all this.” 

“Not my way either,” she admitted, her lips curving up again. “I’d even say it’s an asset of ours, isn’t it?” 

“Lucy Carlyle,” he said, not bothering to hide his delight. “Did you just call me an asset?” 

Lucy laughed out loud, and he cherished the sound of it after months of separation. “You would take that as a compliment.” 

“Only from you, Luce.” He tugged on her hand. “Come on, you promised me a walk before it gets dark.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Lucy reached for her coat before she trailed him down the stairs and outside into the golden late afternoon sunlight.