Archive of Our Own

When the gate collapsed in front of Lucy, the world stood still. 

That was one of the oddities of the Other Side—unless a Visitor was chasing you, it was an eerily still and deadly silent place. There were no birds to sing, no crickets to chirp, no wind to rustle leaves. The only movement was the drifting and shuffling of the dead who hadn’t found their way Beyond, and they were growing fewer in numbers every day. That was part of Lucy’s job with DEPRAC, after all. She tore down the fences put up by Marissa Fittes and shepherded the lost souls away from their dark corners and dusty Sources. Little by little, she and her team chipped away at the Problem, working towards the day it was no more than a scary story children whispered to each other in passing. An age of terror left in the past. 

Lucy desperately wished her age of terror was in the past. Unfortunately, it was very much still happening. 

It was supposed to be a routine trip to the Other Side, one she’d done a handful of times before on DEPRAC’s behalf. After the destruction of Fittes House, every other member of Lockwood & Co. had sworn off ever returning to the land of the dead, but when Barnes asked, Lucy agreed. They needed someone knowledgeable, someone familiar with its dangers. George presented research and Lockwood and Holly and Kipps gave their testimonies, but only Lucy volunteered to go back. The others called her mad, and Lockwood tried to talk her out of it, but she didn’t fear the black-skyed world as much as she should. There were souls there she could help, so Lucy trained a team and spoke with scientists and headed off into the world of ghosts, time and time again. 

They’d torn down another fence they’d found, her and Dana and Christopher and Jules. Marissa hadn’t kept a good record of all her traps, so they were forced to search all over Dark London for the throngs of the dead trying to move on. The plazmat suits they wore had been designed by George and Holly, lined in silver and down feathers, and they carried nightwatch staffs instead of rapiers—they granted further reach and less chance of tearing each other’s suits. It was easier to move in this protection and they carried water and oxygen supplies, but the work was still difficult, the world still inhospitable. 

“We should be getting back,” Dana had said, using her staff to push the last of the fencing into a corner where no spirits would be perturbed by it. “It’s probably been six hours over there at least.” 

“Ugh, no wonder I’m starving,” Jules said, patting his stomach. 

“You’re always starving,” Lucy quipped. 

Christopher slung an arm around Jules’ shoulder, nearly barreling both of them over. “He’s a growing boy, Luce,” he said. “He needs proper nutrition.” 

Lucy rolled her eyes. “He’s twenty-two. I think he’s done growing.” 

She always managed to be the youngest on any team she joined. She’d been the youngest at Jacobs’, before her friends had died. She was always the youngest at Lockwood & Co., even after hiring Holly and Kipps. And now she was the youngest on the DEPRAC team she led. At 18, Lucy Carlyle had done more than most people ever achieved in their lives. But she liked the work, liked her life, and—most importantly—loved the family she’d found for herself. 

“Let’s head back,” Dana said, and Lucy nodded in agreement. Dana was former nightwatch, too old to have Talent but the bravest person Lucy had ever met. Even if this was Lucy’s team, Dana was the one who kept them all alive. 

“Alright, move out, move out,” Lucy barked, and the boys fell in line. “Good work today.” 

“You know how to flatter us, Luce,” Christopher said, arm still around Jules. “Such heart-warming compliments.” 

“Stop flirting, mate,” Jules stage-whispered. “She’s got a boyfriend.” 

“Oh, him .” Christopher made a show of his mock anguish. “How could I ever compete with Andrew Lockwood ?”

“Anthony,” Lucy corrected.

“Right, right, Anthony .” Christopher laughed. “The big, bad agency owner.” 

Lucy scowled. “The youngest agency owner in London.”

“I think you two are cute,” Jules said, shoving Christopher off him. “Puppy love and all that.” 

“Thanks,” Lucy deadpanned. They were getting closer to the Fittes gate, Dana in the lead, and all she wanted was to get home and take a long, hot bath. The cold of this world always made her bones ache and lingered for days after a mission. Once she was home, Lockwood would wrap her up in his favorite quilt and ply her with tea and chocolate until she felt herself again. 

Suddenly, Dana stopped in her tracks, holding out an arm to halt the others. “Wait,” she said. “Something’s wrong.” 

“What are you on about?” Christopher asked, but Lucy shook her head. She could sense it, too. The gate was dimmer than it had been before, the noise of it softer to her ears. It flickered like a light bulb did…right before it burned out. 

“It’s dying,” she said. “The gate’s going out.” 

“What?” Jules and Christoper turned to her. Their faces were obscured by their helmets, but Lucy was certain they wore expressions identical to hers—stunned, confused, and very, very afraid. 

“Run,” Lucy said softly, then repeated, louder, “RUN!” 

The four of them began sprinting towards the hazy cloud that surrounded the Fittes bridge. They just needed to get across before it broke down. It should have been a piece of cake. 

Dana crossed just fine, sprinting along the thin walkway like she’d done it a thousand times. Jules went next, a bit slower, a bit more cautiously. 

It was Christopher who hesitated. The ground beneath them trembled as the gate flickered again, going darker than Lucy had ever seen before returning to full luminosity. He turned to Lucy and she could see his gloved hands shaking. 

“What if it doesn't work?” He asked. “What if they’re just- gone? Or stuck? Or- or-” 

“Would you rather die here?!” Lucy shouted, giving him a shove. “It’ll be fine , I promise.” 

“You don’t know that.” Christopher glanced back at the gate as it flickered again, growing dimmer with each heartbeat. 

Lucy didn’t have time for his cowardice. She had a date with a hot bath and a sweet boy and she would be damned if this idiot got in her way. “I’ll kill you myself if you don’t get on the bridge.” 

Christopher didn’t move. “Surely there’s another way-”

“Augh!” Lucy grabbed Christopher by the back of his suit and threw him forward, until he fell to his hands and knees in the middle of the bridge. With her staff, she prodded him in the behind until he began to crawl forward. “Go!” She screamed, the lights flickering again, the haze dissipating. “GO!” 

Christopher got to his feet and began to run, finally grasping the severity of the situation. Lucy followed behind him, heart thundering as she saw the gate grow dimmer and dimmer. With a cry, she shoved Christopher forward into the last of the haze and watched as he disappeared before her eyes. 

But when she followed, Lucy did not reappear in the remains of the Fittes House basement. She stumbled across the bridge to find more of the Other Side and nothing behind her where she’d come from. 

The gate was gone. 

Lucy was stranded on the Other Side, all alone. 

Lucy allowed herself a few moments of panic before she began to formulate a plan. 

After those few dark moments of crying and screaming, she took a deep breath and considered what she knew. The most obvious was this: time moved differently on the Other Side than it did back home. The hours that it took to reopen the gate would be mere minutes to Lucy. She should park herself in this spot and simply wait for DEPRAC to come back for her. 

But minutes passed and nothing happened. A few ghosts trudged past but none seemed to notice her. Lucy entertained herself by imagining how the others would react to this story. Holly would be horrified and Kipps would criticize DEPRAC’s slowness and George would want to study how the time affected her and Lockwood-

Well, he wouldn’t show how worried he’d been, but Lucy knew he’d be worried. He always worried when she crossed over, even if he never said as much. George and Holly snitched on him more often than not, and even if they hadn’t, Lucy would know. 

What felt like hours passed, and Lucy started to worry herself. She was losing track of time—watches didn’t work properly over here—but was certain DEPRAC should have fixed the gate by now. Had there been some sort of attack? Had the Sources been destroyed? As the Problem lessened across the country, Sources grew weaker. Maybe…maybe the gate had finally just given up, its ghosts moving on. Lucy began to feel a little sick. 

The Fittes House Gate was the only one DEPRAC had. Others had been found across the city in the immediate aftermath of Marissa’s downfall, but they’d all been shut down. If this gate was gone, then Lucy was trapped—forever. 

She couldn’t afford to think like that. She was DEPRAC’s greatest asset—the only person with the ability to speak to Type 3s and the only idiot brave enough to lead a team to the Other Side again and again. They wouldn’t just abandon her. 

But another hour passed, then another. She dozed for a while, tucked in a corner with her staff outstretched to ward off any curious Visitors. When Lucy woke, she was certain almost a day had passed in this place, and the cold was growing too much to bear. She could handle the thin air and the eerie stillness and murderous spirits but it was the cold of this void that tormented her. It seeped under her skin and between her bones, chilling every inch of her until she was a useless, shivering mess. 

Lucy stood and began to pace, contemplating her options. She could wait here until DEPRAC broke through or the cold killed her. Several days must have passed by now in the world of the living, maybe even a week. It was so hard to gauge how time moved between worlds, never quite behaving the same. An hour here could be many hours there or even a day or, on one terrible expedition, many days. But Lucy knew she couldn’t survive more than a few days on this side of the veil, not with the cold and what little water she had left. Not when her oxygen tank was almost empty. 

That left one other option: go out into Dark London proper and try to find an active gate that DEPRAC hadn’t shut down. It was a wild goose chase, a suicide mission, an utterly stupid move to make—but it was the only one she had left. 

The only comfort Lucy had now was knowing that Lockwood would approve of this plan. He lived for moments like these, surviving by the skin of his teeth, overcoming terrible odds. She wished he was with her now, though she was glad he was safe at home. It was scarier to face the unknown alone, but the thought of returning home to him kept her going. Lucy would survive this and she would get her hot bath and she would let Lockwood fuss over her for weeks to come. 

Dark London was emptier than she’d ever seen it. The spirits that did still haunt its streets were less viscous than they’d once been, weaker and sleepier as they drifted by. Once or twice she passed by a fresh spirit, usually as she walked down a street near a hospital, but those ghosts didn’t give her the time of day as they rushed towards the shimmering black pools that led beyond. It was how the world was supposed to work, Lucy supposed. The dead weren’t supposed to linger. 

The living weren’t supposed to be here at all. 

Not for the first time, Lucy cursed Marissa Fittes for all she’d done, for being the reason Lucy was here at all as she trudged further into the city, listening for any sort of commotion, feeling for any sort of power. Her Talents weren’t as potent here, not when anyone could See and Hear the dead, but her Touch still let her sense emotion that others could not. So she stopped every few minutes and Listened, Looked, Felt, hoping for the barest hint of a gathering of souls that could even possibly be a gate. 

Another day passed. Lucy dozed again and drained the last of her water quicker than she’d have liked. Her air tank beeped in warning, but Lucy ignored the sound. She had one false positive, a small fenced portal she and her team hadn’t dismantled yet had drawn a crowd of spirits. Lucy fled from that quickly, afraid they’d turn their anger on her, and kept wandering. 

For some reason, the river called to her. It was counter-intuitive, really—on this side of the veil, the moving water created an odd sort of barrier, a distorted wall of static and spark. The stone bridges of the human world worked well enough for a spirit to cross very carefully, but a small part of Lucy’s brain told her that she could find a gate along the Thames. It’s where she would build one, after all—close to a safety net, if all hell broke loose. 

Another day passed, and Lucy wondered if she had been stupid to leave the Fittes Gate. Surely DEPRAC could have fixed it by now. But the idea of returning exhausted her. Breathing was getting hard now and her limbs felt as if they were lined with lead and filled with sand. Every step was agonizing. Her throat screamed in pain, too dry, too parched. And Lucy was pretty certain she wasn’t supposed to be seeing double of everything. 

She was considering sitting down for another nap—likely her final sleep, if she was being honest—when she heard them. A scream. A sob. A wail. A whisper. It had to be a collection of spirits, a gathering. If it was another fenced portal, then she’d tear it down and follow the spirits into the beyond. Lucy was tired , and she’d rather face whatever came next than let her body rot in this horrid place.

But if it was a gate…

With the little strength she had left, Lucy raced towards the pulses of sadness and fear and confusion, towards the once-human cries. She ducked down an alley and turned into a crumbling shell of a building, mind fuzzy with the sound of the static river so close by. Tears sprang to her eyes when Lucy realized she saw a light ahead. 

It was a gate. 

It was small—much smaller than the Fittes gate—but familiar enough. It reminded Lucy of the gate they’d built in Jessica’s room all those months ago. There was a chain anchored at one end, leading into the haze of spirits. Lucy didn’t hesitate, didn’t question why this gate was here or who might be waiting on the other side. She raced forward and grabbed the chain, following it into the light. 

When Lucy reached the world of the living, she nearly vomited into her helmet. 

Years of being an agent had honed her reflexes, however, and Lucy managed to get the headpiece off before she hurled, emptying the meager contents of her stomach onto the dirt-covered floor of the building. 

When she finished, Lucy wiped the spittle from her mouth and looked around. It was night time, the moon visible through a hole in the roof. She was almost certain she was in one of the many condemned warehouses along the river. Flo often used similar buildings for shelter when the weather grew bad, or to conduct business with shadier clients. It didn’t surprise her that Fittes or Rotwell would have used one for their forays into the world of the dead. 

Legs as weak and trembling as a newborn fawn’s, Lucy stumbled from the warehouse into the street. There weren’t many lights in this part of town, but she followed the faint glow of a police box in the distance until she reached it. Once inside the safety of its iron-lined walls, Lucy picked up the phone and let it ring. 

“I need to speak to DEPRAC,” she rasped into the receiver when the operator answered. “This is Agent Lucy Carlyle. Please let Barnes know I’m…I’m…” 

Before she could finish, however, Lucy felt her legs give out. She dropped to the ground, her staff clattering somewhere behind her. Not a second later, her mind went as well, and she embraced the dark nothingness as it engulfed her. 

Lucy came to in the hospital. This was not surprising. She looked up, vision hazy, and saw Barnes by her bedside. This wasn’t entirely surprising either. 

What was surprising was seeing Quill Kipps next to Barnes, half asleep in his chair. If anyone from the agency was going to be there, it would have been Lockwood. Even George or Holly would have made more sense as bedside companions. Kipps would rather chew off his own foot than admit he cared about any of his coworkers. 

“Kipps? Barnes?” Lucy coughed, looking around for a glass of water. Barnes startled at the sound of her voice, but quickly handed her a cup with a straw. She gulped at it greedily, sighing as it soothed the burning in her throat. 

“Carlyle,” Barnes said, voice surprisingly soft. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like death warmed over,” she said with a laugh. “But better than I should after three days on the Other Side.” 

“Three days?” That was Kipps, now awake and staring at her too intently. 

She nodded. “I suppose it’s been a bit longer here. Did the others-? Did Christopher-?” 

Barnes nodded. “Your team made it out. All of them.” 

Lucy sighed in relief. “Good. I thought I was going to have to carry Christopher over.” She fixed Barnes with a serious look. “What happened to the gate? I was waiting for you to fix it and come get me, but…” 

To her surprise, Barnes’ face crumpled in dismay. “We aren’t sure,” he finally admitted. “It just…failed. The Sources drained and we couldn’t- we brought in new Sources but we couldn’t get enough power to open up the gate again. It was like all the ghosts in London had moved on…” 

Lucy nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. There were very few Visitors hanging around when I crossed Dark London. I’m lucky that gate I found was still up, else I’d be dead.” 

Kipps and Barnes exchanged a look. “Very lucky,” Barnes agreed. “Listen, Carlyle, there’s something you should know.” 

“What is it?” Lucy took another long sip of her water, watching as Barnes struggled to find the words. Finally, it was Kipps who spoke. 

“It’s been more than a few days since you crossed over,” he said carefully. 

“Right,” Lucy said. “A week, then?” 

He shook his head. 

Lucy frowned. “Two weeks? Don’t tell me it’s been three, Lockwood must be losing his mind!” 

Kipps looked down and took a deep breath. When he looked back up at her, she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Lucy. It’s been six months.” 

“What?” Lucy looked to Barnes, to confirm this wasn’t some sick joke Kipps was playing. Barnes nodded, affirming her worst fears. “Six months?” 

“Almost seven, at this point,” Kipps said. “For you, it was three days. But for us…” 

His voice cracked and Lucy’s heart broke. 

“No,” she whispered. “It…it can’t have been that long.” 

“We thought you were dead,” Kipps said. “We…we mourned you. Held a funeral, even. Never seen Cubbins cry before then.” 

“Stop it.” Lucy couldn’t listen to this. “Quill, stop it.” 

“You need to be prepared,” he said softly. “Everyone…well, things are different, now.” 

Barnes held up a hand to keep Kipps from speaking further. “Baby steps,” he said, not unkindly. “We did mourn you, Carlyle, but now you’re back. You’re going to deal with a lot of very happy, very emotional people in the coming days. But I trust you’re strong enough to handle it.” 

Lucy wasn’t so sure. Surviving on the Other Side was one thing. Dealing with a crying Holly was another. And Lockwood…

“How is he?” She asked Kipps. They both knew who she meant. 

“Alive,” was Kipps’ first reaction. Then: “Different.” 

Lockwood could be a serial killer or a professional mime now for all Lucy cared, as long as he was alive. Different she could handle. Dead she could not. 

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. So how long until I can go home?” 

Barnes sighed but Kipps laughed, a small, wet sound. 

“Soon,” Barnes said. “You’ve waited six months. You can wait a little longer.” 

Before Lucy was discharged, she was visited by her team. 

Six months had changed them all. Dana’s hair was shorter and Jules’ hair was longer. Christopher was far too thin, but his eyes lit up when he saw her, then were quickly obscured by tears. 

He threw himself against her, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, grasping at her arm. “I’m so sorry, Luce. If I hadn’t- If I’d been braver-” 

Dana pulled him off Lucy. “Jesus, Chris, she’s still recovering. Give her space.” 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, wiping snot from his nose. “It’s my fault, Lucy.” 

Lucy didn’t necessarily disagree, but she patted Christopher on the shoulder and said, “It’s okay. We’re all alive, aren’t we? And I found a new fence while I was stuck over there.” 

“Well, we’re certainly not going after it,” Jules said. “DEPRAC defunded missions to the Other Side after you died- well, after we thought you died.” 

“Oh.” Lucy frowned. There were still fences blocking souls from moving on. Even if gates were getting harder to build, it was still possible. Shouldn’t they continue their work? 

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” Dana teased. 

“Sorry,” Lucy said, giving her a small smile. “It’s just…it’s only been a couple days for me. It’s hard to accept how much has happened since I was gone.” 

“It hasn’t been that much,” Jules said with a shrug. “DEPRAC defunded Other Side missions, they built you a nice statue, Christopher got his arse kicked by your boyfriend, Barnes got married-”

“Wait, what?” Lucy looked to Christopher, whose face had gone pink. 

“Yeah, we were all surprised,” Jules said. “I never thought a woman would even look twice at old Monty but hey, there really is somebody for everybody-”

“Lockwood hurt you?” Lucy asked Christopher, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. He nodded. 

“I…it was stupid. I was drunk and upset, he was drunk and upset, we ran into each other and I tried to apologize and…well, let’s just say I couldn’t breathe out of my nose for a while.” 

Lucy worried at the inside of her cheek. Lockwood was the more even-tempered of the two of them, all politician’s smiles and clever words. It was difficult for her to imagine him fighting anyone who wasn’t trying to kill him. (Except for Kipps, perhaps, but that was a different can of worms.)

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Dana said, flicking the side of Christopher’s head. “This idiot was basically begging your boy to beat his arse.”

Lucy shook her head. “It was an accident,” she said. “A fluke. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Christopher said. “But it happened to you .” 

“People didn’t like that,” Jules added. “Have you seen the statue yet? It’s great, really. Makes you look very noble. Even if they got your nose all wrong.” 

“Shut up,” Dana hissed. “She’s got enough to worry about without that stupid statue.” 

Lucy rubbed at her temples and wondered if the hospital would give her anything for the headache that was starting to build behind her eyes. 

When all was said and done, Kipps escorted Lucy back to Portland Row. Barnes promised to give her a few days of rest before getting a full debrief on her time on the Other Side, and Lucy was grateful for that. Now she sat in the back of the cab with Quill, shifting restlessly in her seat and tugging at her hair. 

The days she’d spent across the veil had taken their toll on her. Her skin still held a deathly pallor, crows feet appearing by her eyes, and two large streaks of white had made themselves known in her hair. Lucy hoped Holly could help her with the latter two, or at least direct her to a salon that could make her look eighteen again. Kipps watched her out of the corner of his eye, concern evident on his face. 

“Lockwood probably won’t be at the house,” he said as they turned onto Portland Row. The cab pulled to a halt and Quill paid the driver. “He…he comes and goes.” 

Lucy let him help her from the car, legs still wobbly and uncertain. “Where does he go?” She asked. 

Kipps shrugged and offered her his elbow for stability. “He doesn’t say. Flo might have some idea, but he’s grown…secretive. Reclusive. A bit barmy.” 

Lucy tightened her grip on his arm. “He hasn’t…he hasn’t been too reckless, has he? On jobs?” 

“He would have to show up to jobs first,” Kipps said with a sigh. “Cubbins runs the show these days.” 

“Oh.” Lucy considered this. “Oh, no .” 

“Yeah.” Kipps laughed. “It’s going about as well as you can imagine.” 

Lucy let that thought haunt her all the way up the steps. Kipps opened the front door without knocking and led her inside. There, Holly was making her way from the kitchen towards the stairs with a tea tray in hand. She paused when she saw them, then-

Holly let out a terrible scream and the tray fell to the ground. Porcelain smashed and tea splashed everywhere, but nobody cared. Holly hurled herself forward and wrapped her arms around Lucy’s shoulders, pulling her close. Lucy let herself melt into the hug, finally feeling warm for the first time in days. Holly still smelled of rosewater and clean linens, still dressed in pretty dresses and sensible heels. 

Lucy felt something warm and wet on her neck, and realized Holly was crying. 

“Hey, Hol- hey, now, it’s okay,” Lucy said, rubbing circles into the girl’s back. “Don’t cry.” 

“I-I-I-” Holly sobbed. “T-Thought you w-were dead .” 

“I know, I know.” Lucy glanced at Kipps over Holly’s shoulder and saw he was discretely dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “But I’m not dead, I’m right here. Just took me a bit longer to find my way home.” 

“How?” Holly pulled back, wiping her eyes on her sleeves in a shockingly unladylike display. “Oh, no, you need to come upstairs right now. George needs to see you.” 

Lucy nodded and let Holly take her hand. They ascended the stairs as quickly as Lucy was able, slowed at Kipps’ insistence that she take it easy. “He’s been working non-stop lately,” Holly told Lucy as they approached the library. “I was coming up to force him to take a break when you- oh , I should clean up that mess I made.” 

“I’ll get it, Holly,” Kipps said. “You’ve both been working non-stop lately.” 

Holly cast him an appreciative glance, then pulled Lucy along. “He tried to fight Barnes, you know,” she told her in a whisper. “When Barnes finally called it and gave up trying to build back the gate. George had to be escorted by at least six men from DEPRAC premises. We’re lucky Barnes didn’t press charges.” 

“George? Really?” If Lockwood fighting Christopher was surprising, then George fighting Barnes was positively dumbfounding. George was more likely to fight her over the last biscuit than fight a grown man on her behalf. 

“It was before you were declared dead in absentia ,” Holly said softly. She reached out to cup Lucy’s face in her hand, pausing to give her a good look over. “We…we still had hope you were alive.” 

Lucy leaned into Holly’s touch, saying nothing. It didn’t matter to her that everyone had eventually given up. What mattered was that they’d tried . They’d fought for her. Her friends loved her as much as she loved them.

“George? You awake?” Holly called, rapping on the door. “There’s someone here you’ll want to see.” 

“I’m awake,” George called. “If it’s Lockwood, I’m not interested. Bastard should be the one doing this paperwork, not me.” 

Holly laughed softly and opened the door, pulling Lucy into the room behind her. “It’s not Lockwood.” 

“Good.” George glanced up briefly, then back down at his book before doing a double take as he noticed Lucy. He blinked a few times, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes, even hastily cleaning his glasses on his shirt. He looked more haggard than Lucy had ever seen him, pale and haunted, a small bit of stubble peppering his chin. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the day Lucy left, and she desperately hoped they’d been washed at least once in the months she’d been missing. 

“Luce?” He breathed, standing. “Are you…real?” He glanced up at Holly for confirmation. She nodded, dabbing at her eyes again with the edge of her sleeve. 

“Sorry I’m so late,” Lucy said. “I got a bit delayed.” 

The entire time she’d known George, he’d never been much of a hugger. He allowed Lockwood the occasional arm around the shoulders, even let Flo cuddle up next to him on the sofa. But he and Lucy did not hug. It wasn’t their thing. 

But now he was across the room in seconds, pulling her into the tightest bear hug Lucy had ever experienced. She let out a small squawk of surprise, but did not push him away. For George to be touching her at all meant he’d been far more troubled by her death than she could have ever realized. 

“You’re alive…” he said. “How? Did you build a gate on your end? Did you- did you just reappear in our world? I know the Fittes Gate was dismantled months ago, it couldn’t have been that-”

“George, take a breath,” Lucy teased as they pulled apart. “I found a gate in a warehouse by the river. Stroke of luck.” 

“Luck,” George repeated, brow furrowing. “Right.” 

“Luck, fate, divine intervention,” Holly said, taking Lucy’s hand again. “It doesn’t matter. Lucy’s home .” 

George’s face softened and he gave Lucy a small smile. It was unnerving, but Lucy found she didn’t mind. 

“Doctors have you checked you over?” He asked, gesturing to her hospital bracelet. Lucy nodded. 

“Yep,” she said. “All clear. Mostly just dehydrated, a little oxygen-deprived. Your plazmat suit design really holds up over there.” 

George gestured for her to sit down in one of the armchairs. Holly perched on the arm next to Lucy, apparently unwilling to be parted from her side. George returned to his chair, but whatever he’d been working on was forgotten now. 

No one spoke. Holly played with Lucy’s hair and George studied her intently, but not a soul among them seemed to know what to say. What did one say when their friend returned from the dead? 

“Your room’s the way you left it,” George finally said. “We couldn’t…none of us wanted to change it.” 

A lump formed in Lucy’s throat. “Thanks,” she said. 

“I have been cleaning in there,” Holly said. “So it shouldn’t be too dusty. Oh, but we should change your sheets.” 

Kipps reappeared in the doorway, apparently done taking care of the mess in the hall. “Just tell me where the linen closet is, Munro,” he said. 

“Since when have you been so helpful?” Lucy asked. 

Kipps rolled his eyes. “Since these two started working themselves to the bone to keep Lockwood’s agency afloat.” He gestured around the room vaguely. “Visitors are getting weaker, but they haven’t gone away entirely. We had to bring on more agents, after you died and Lockwood…” He paused. “Cubbins is getting hired for research consulting, Munro is fielding calls and wrangling children, I’m supervising every job. It’s a lot of work, being successful.”

Lucy’s heart sank. Life had gotten so hard for the others while she was gone. “I’ll be right as rain after some sleep,” she said quietly. “I can lighten the load.” 

“Absolutely not,” Holly said firmly. “You are not to even think of work for at least a week.” 

George nodded. “We need to make sure there aren’t any lasting side effects of being over there so long. I mean, just look at your hair-” 

Kipps elbowed him. “Don’t worry about us. We wouldn’t be here, doing this work, if we didn’t want to be.” 

Lucy nodded and swallowed back tears. “Okay. One week. Then I’ll start pulling my weight again.” 

“I suppose that’s the best we could ask for,” Holly muttered. The boys just laughed. 

The rest of the day passed easily, the four of them spending most of it in the library. People came and went downstairs and Holly found herself running and back forth to keep things orderly, but Lucy had no interest in who all was there—not unless they were Lockwood. But he didn’t return home that evening, and Lucy went to sleep early, too exhausted by it all to keep her eyes open through dinner.

When Lucy came down the stairs the next morning, she was surprised to find a strange girl at the kitchen table eating breakfast. 

The girl choked on her food when she saw Lucy, hurrying to her feet as she coughed. She couldn’t have been older than thirteen, a scrawny little thing, all knees and elbows. Lucy gave her an awkward smile, assuming this was one of the new agents Kipps had mentioned. 

“Er, morning,” Lucy said. “Sorry to surprise you, I’m Lucy-”

“You’re Lucy Carlyle!” The girl exclaimed. “Sorry, I mean- Miss Munro told me you were here and alive and-” She took a deep breath and said, a bit slower, “I’m Carrie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lucy said, moving to the teapot to pour herself a cup. Holly had set out her favorite cup with the right amount of milk and sugar already measured out. The sight of it tugged at Lucy’s heart. “Are you one of the new agents?” 

Carrie nodded fervently. “I am! Me and Ben, but he doesn’t live here, he lives with his Mum, and also sometimes Kat and Bobby.” 

“Kat Godwin and Bobby Vernon?” Lucy asked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Carrie followed her around the kitchen as she began to prepare some toast. It was like being followed by a baby chick—not annoying, per se, but a bit perplexing. “Though Bobby mostly helps Mr. Cubbins with his research these days.” She leaned in close to whisper, “His Sight’s going.”

Lucy took a sip of her tea. Last she’d heard, Kat and Bobby were working as independents. She wondered how Kipps had managed to talk them into joining Lockwood. 

“Wait-” Lucy did a double take as Carrie’s words finally processed. “You call him Mr. Cubbins?” 

Carrie nodded. “He’s my boss, of course I do.” 

Lucy had never once considered calling Lockwood Mister, not even back when he still called her Miss Carlyle. But Lockwood had only been fourteen or fifteen in those days, and George was nearing twenty. 

It suddenly felt like she’d been gone for longer than six months. What else had changed since her presumed death? Had Holly started eating hamburgers and chips? Had Kipps taken up interpretive dance? 

And where in the hell was Lockwood? 

“Do you ever see L- Mr. Lockwood?” Lucy asked, leaning against the counter. 

Carrie shook her head. “Not much. He comes and goes. I know he owns the company and the house, but he doesn’t really do much- I mean, that I’m aware of.” She looked down, shame coloring her face. 

“So I’ve heard,” Lucy said gently. “Are you liking it here?” She didn’t want the girl to feel bad for speaking the truth, even if the truth hurt. 

“I am!” Carrie brightened up again. “We work such fun jobs and I get my own bedroom! The one on the landing.” 

Lucy had always wondered who would eventually move into Jessica’s room. They’d offered it to Holly but she’d turned it down, and it seemed unlikely Kipps would survive living in the same house as George and Lockwood for more than a week. Lockwood had suggested Lucy take it, but she loved her little loft. It made her happy, now, to know someone like Carrie was brightening up the place once more. 

“That’s good,” Lucy said. “This place is…good. Good agency, good people. You’ll do well here.” 

Carrie beamed at her. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said. “I was real sad when they announced your accident.” 

The idea of some random child being upset by her death was so absurd, Lucy almost laughed. “Thanks,” she said instead. “I’m also glad I’m alive.” 

That made Carrie giggle. “Yes, yes, we’re all glad you’re alive, Carlyle,” Kipps said as he entered the kitchen, arms laden with boxes of flares. 

Lucy took a bite of her toast and watched him struggle to set them down on the table. “Do you ever go home?” She asked. 

“I’ll allow the sass because I’ve missed you,” Kipps said with a sneer. Lucy was not convinced. 

“Yes, I’m sure you missed me so desperately,” she deadpanned. 

“He did,” Carrie said. “Mr. Kipps is always talking about how you were the smart one and without you we were all fu-” 

“Language,” Kipps warned. “And I said that once , Miss Norris. Don’t tell lies.” 

“You definitely said it more than once,” George said, coming in through the garden door. Behind him, Flo waved at Carrie with the tip of her muck prong. Carrie waved back. “I fired you for it at least twice.” 

Kipps shrugged. “You fire me every other week.” 

“And yet you’re still here.” 

Flo gave Lucy a once-over and grinned. Of everyone, Flo seemed to have changed the least in the past months. That settled a bit of the turbulence in Lucy’s mind. 

“Glad to see you in one piece,” Flo said in lieu of a greeting. “You’re tougher than I thought.” 

“Thanks,” Lucy said with a laugh. 

“Flo says she hasn’t seen Lockwood in at least a fortnight,” George said, fussing with two cups to prepare tea for himself and Flo. “I saw him a few days ago, but only in passing. No one knows where he is.” 

Lucy tried not to be frustrated. It was enough that he hadn’t gotten himself killed while she was gone. She could wait a little longer. 

But part of her worried. Worried that he’d taken her death too hard or, worse, that he’d already moved on. Sure, he’d all but declared his undying love for her when he gave her his mother’s necklace, but he hadn’t said as much. They’d shared a few kisses, held hands on long walks and spent hours in cafes just talking, but had they even been properly dating? Her teammates called Lockwood her boyfriend, but Lockwood had never used that word. 

Lucy shook her head. It didn’t matter. She was alive and he was alive and even if he didn’t love her it was okay . Well, not okay , but- it would be okay. Lucy did not crawl her way from the Other Side to let her heart be broken so easily. 

“He’ll turn up eventually,” Kipps said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. 

“I think he’d rather see Lucy sooner rather than later,” George countered. “But…there’s not much we can do.”

Flo gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. He’s been hangin’ ‘round the old Winkman storehouses lately. Dunno why, DEPRAC cleared ‘em out ages ago.” 

“We don’t know why he does anything anymore.” George sighed in defeat. “Where’s Holly at? I need her to reschedule the Collins job.”  

“She’s in the basement, sir,” Carrie said. Lucy raised an eyebrow at the sir , casting a look at George. He steadfastly ignored her. 

“Great.” George shuffled off towards the basement office. Instead of following him, Flo flung herself into an empty chair and drank her tea. The amount of mud she’d tracked in was going to give Holly a heart attack when she finally surfaced. 

Lucy considered cleaning it up, but only for a moment. She’d been given strict orders to take it easy, after all. 

By that afternoon, Lucy and Carrie had drifted down to the basement office as well. Kipps was off running some errands, and the other new agent, Ben, had arrived and was now locked in an intense sparring match with Carrie. He was a short, stout thing, with spiky hair and a spotty face. They both seemed so young, but Lucy had been their age when she’d come to London on her own. Had she looked that small when she wielded her rapier? 

Lucy sat by George’s desk, watching him pore over documents. Some looked like his usual research, but others looked like DEPRAC forms, the sort of bureaucratic nonsense that drove him mad. Holly had similar papers in front of her, though most of those were on the Lockwood & Co. letterhead Lockwood had been so proud of. It made Lucy’s heart ache to see the company thrive with Lockwood nowhere in sight. 

“I hear you hired Godwin and Vernon,” she said, trying to distract herself. George nodded. 

“Kat’s just a contractor, comes on for jobs when we need backup. Bobby’s been a good addition to the research team, even if he had to learn the hard way not to rely on Fittes’ databases.” 

Holly huffed a small laugh. “I’m trying to convince Kat to take on some office management. She’s sharp, she’s organized, and she loves bossing people around—it would be a good fit for her.” 

Lucy grinned. “Sounds like someone else I know. Especially that last bit.” 

Holly gave her an amused look. “You’re very rude for a dead girl.” 

“You say that like I haven’t always been rude.” 

George set down his papers with a loud sigh. “What was it like?” He asked, and it was clear he’d been holding back his questions since the previous night. “How long did it seem to you? How did you even survive?” 

“George…” Holly warned in an undertone. “She might not want to talk about it.” 

“No, it’s fine,” Lucy said. “It was only three days for me.” 

George and Holly turned to her in tandem, twin looks of shock on their faces. “That little time?” George asked. 

Lucy nodded. “It’s hard to say for certain, but I slept a couple times. I thought maybe a week or two would’ve passed here. Not…not this.” 

“This must be so overwhelming,” Holly said. “To lose six months of your life like that…” 

“Maybe it’s related to the shift in the Problem,” George mused, mostly to himself. “As the barrier between worlds grows stronger again, the time dilation grows too?” 

“I couldn’t say.” Lucy looked down at her hands. If George was asking his questions, then she could ask hers, too. “Kipps said you had a funeral for me.” 

“Of course we did,” George said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Lockwood tried to fight for you to have a place in his family’s plot,” Holly said. “But they said only him and a spouse could be laid to rest there. It’s not like we had a body to bury, anyway. We thought maybe you’d want your grave back home, near your father’s, so we held the funeral there. Your sisters and mum were there, and some neighbors. More people showed up to the memorial DEPRAC held, since it was here in town.” 

Lucy hadn’t even considered calling her mother or sisters, to let them know she had survived. Holly must have seen the horror and guilt on her face, and told her, softly, “We can ring them tomorrow.” 

“I’m sorry you had to do all that,” Lucy said. Her stomach roiled at the thought that so much work had gone into mourning her. They could’ve just stuck a cheap rock in any old cemetery and called it a day. 

“Do all what?” George frowned. “Give you a proper send-off?” 

“You’re our family, Lucy,” Holly said. “How could we not?” 

“Are you saying you’d just leave me to rot on the pavement if I keeled over?” George asked, sarcasm evident. “Wouldn’t even bother to buy me a headstone, would you?” 

Despite herself, Lucy smiled. “I’ll buy you the best headstone in the country. Something real luxurious, like marble.”

“Solid gold,” George argued. “Encrusted with jewels.” 

She snorted. “I’ll just pick ‘em off Kipps’ rapier when he croaks.” 

A sob startled both of them, and they turned to see Holly crying into a handkerchief. “Hol? What’s wrong?” Lucy asked. 

“I just…” She sniffed loudly. “I missed this. I never thought I’d hear one of your stupid arguments again.” 

Lucy wanted to laugh but the look on George’s face gave her pause. She remembered what Kipps had said, that George had cried at her funeral. He wasn’t crying now, but there was a somber tint to his voice when he said, “Yeah. I missed this, too.” 

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said quietly. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for—none of this was her fault. But she still felt guilt gnaw at her, twisting her stomach in knots. She knew what it was like to lose teammates, friends…

“Don’t apologize,” George said. “Just…don’t die again.” 

Holly nodded, still wiping at her eyes. “Stay on this side of the veil a bit longer.” 

Her friends—her family had put her to rest, had suffered in her absence. Lucy refused to ever let them feel that sort of pain again. 

“Yeah,” she said, throat growing tight. “Yeah, I think I can do that.” 

It was around two in the morning when Lucy admitted she wasn’t going to fall asleep. 

She’d slept plenty the night before, and had been out for ages while in the hospital. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t done much that day, or the fact that she’d learned so many things that kept swirling around her mind. Whatever it was, there was no use tossing and turning in bed. 

Lucy tiptoed down to the library, hoping no one had removed the bookmark she’d left in the novel she’d been reading before the accident. She glanced at Lockwood’s door as she passed, but no light came from underneath. Wherever he was, she hoped he was at least sleeping properly. 

Once in the library, it didn’t take too long to find her book. The bookmark was still in place, to her delight, so Lucy curled up in her favorite armchair and picked up where she left off, ignoring the dust that had collected on the cover. 

Perhaps a story of love and adventure was all she’d needed to help her sleep, because Lucy felt herself doze off for a while. When she was awoken by a thumping noise, the blue light of dawn told her hours had passed. 

She rubbed at her eyes and looked around for the source of the noise. What she saw made her heart leap into her throat. 

Lockwood was there, on his knees, eyes wide, hand gripping the doorframe tightly. He looked awful, his clothes wrinkled and mismatched, face too thin and hair too long. Mud caked his trousers and Lucy briefly wondered if Flo had found him. She didn’t let that thought linger, however, as she found herself leaping from the chair to collapse on top of him in a hug. 

Lockwood’s hands shook as he snaked his arms around her waist. His nose was cold as it buried into the crook of her neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispered. “You’re real?” 

“I’m real,” Lucy murmured. 

“I knew you were alive.” Lockwood’s hold on her tightened, pressing her closer to his chest. “I knew you couldn’t be dead. I would’ve felt it. I would’ve known.” 

Lucy dug her fingers into the flesh of his back. She never wanted to let go of him again. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” she said. 

Lockwood pulled back and shook his head. “You’re back. You came back. That’s all that matters.” 

“Of course I came back,” Lucy said. “All I could think about over there was coming back to you.” 

Lockwood cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, fervent and deep. Lucy kissed him back just as desperately, hands gripping the front of his shirt. After too short a time, Lockwood pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “How did you cross back over? I didn’t think DEPRAC was working on gates anymore.” 

“They aren’t,” Lucy said. “I searched across Dark London until I found one, in a warehouse by the Thames. Dunno how it still worked, but I guess it was one of Fittes’ that DEPRAC missed.” 

Something in Lockwood’s eyes shifted. “You found the warehouse? The gate activated?” 

“Wait.” Lucy brushed fringe from Lockwood’s face. “You built that gate?” 

He nodded. “Been collecting every last artifact I could since your accident. Had to get Kat Godwin to verify more than one, but her Listening’s awful compared to yours. I didn’t think I had enough, that they were strong enough…” 

“You built a gate for me?” 

Lockwood stared at her in confusion. “Of course I did, Luce.” 

She pressed another kiss to his mouth, soft and brief. “You saved me,” she said. 

“I should have gone with you.” Lockwood shook his head. “I should have agreed to join Barnes’ little team, I should’ve been there with you-”

Lucy put a finger to his lips, halting his train of thought. “None of that. No matter where I go, no matter how far, I’ll always find my way home to you.” She wetted her lips and grinned. “Especially if you’re doing things like building spirit gates in abandoned warehouses.” 

Lockwood huffed a laugh and buried his face in her neck again, body sagging against hers. Lucy ran one hand up and down his back, the other playing the hair at the base of his neck. She’d missed this boy of hers something fierce. 

“I didn’t…I didn’t know what to do, without you,” Lockwood whispered. “It’s silly, but I thought…I thought that after everything we’ve gone through, you and I…we would go together .” 

Tears sprang to Lucy’s eyes. “Neither of us is going anywhere for a very long time.” 

“I know.” Lockwood pressed a kiss to her neck, then her jaw, then her temple. “But when that time comes, you can’t go without me.” 

All of Lucy’s previous worries flew out the window, replaced quickly by new ones. “Lockwood…”

“I can’t bury you again,” he said, pulling back. Lucy reached out to trace the dark circles beneath his eyes, the hollows of his cheeks. “I won’t survive it.” 

“You can,” she said. “We’re survivors, you and I.” 

“Lucy.” 

She swallowed back tears. “I promise not to die again for many, many years.” 

Lockwood nodded, accepting this. “I never…I thought I’d never get to tell you.” 

“Tell me what?” Lucy watched as the desperation in Lockwood’s eyes turned to anguish. 

He took a trembling breath and then said, “How much I love you.” 

“Yeah?” Lucy’s heart skipped a couple beats. “And how much is that?” 

“I love you more than life itself,” he breathed, taking her face in his hands again. “I love you so much that I cannot stand to ever be parted from you again. It would tear my heart in two.” 

Lucy smiled. “And I love you so much that I know I’ll always find my way back to you, in this life and the next, in whatever land lies beyond.” 

Lockwood kissed her again, and again, and again, there on the library floor. Lucy had never felt such warmth as that of his chest against hers, hearts beating together. All of the cold of the Other Side vanished, all of the terror of that dark place chased away by Lockwood’s light. 

Then he yawned, and Lucy remembered they were simple, fragile creatures. She laughed and nuzzled her face against his. 

“We should probably sleep now,” she said. “You look exhausted.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Lockwood said. When Lucy gave him a stern look, he added, “I’m afraid to close my eyes. What if you disappear when I open them again?” 

“I won’t,” she whispered, placing her hand over his heart. “I’m staying right here.” 

He nodded, putting his hand over hers. “Forever.” 

Her face grew warm. “Come on, I’ll tell you a bedtime story,” she said, pulling him to his feet. He grinned and let her pull him towards his bedroom. “About a very brave, very cool girl who got stuck in a terrible land and the wonderful boy who saved her.” 

In the morning, Lucy would awaken to Lockwood watching her with watery eyes. She would kiss him long enough until all his tears were dry. Then they’d head down to breakfast, hand-in-hand, and begin to rebuild with the rest of their family.