Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck- fucking- goddamn shitting fuck,” spluttered Carlyle, spitting hair out of her mouth. “What the good goddamn motherfucking hell-”

“Luce,” interrupted Lockwood, staring at the crowd staring back at him. “Lucy.”

Carlyle looked at him, then followed his gaze. “Oh. Bugger.”

“You can never yell at me for my language again,” breathed Charlie gleefully.

“What?” asked Carlyle, eyes wide. Lockwood stared at them blankly.

“What just happened,” asked Angie emphatically, confident that she was not the only one confused. “James?”

“Don’t ask me,” said James, sounding just as baffled. “He just touched the artefact-”

“And the room went white, yeah, we all saw it,” Charlie finished, annoyed. 

Suyeon tsked. “Be nice,” she told him.

“You don’t have to defend me,” said James, affronted.

“She kinda does,” Des muttered, mostly to themself.

This was what Angie saw: Lockwood had reached out to grab an artefact George Karim had dropped off for them to look at. Carlyle had been standing beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm. The second Lockwood had touched the artefact, the room went white, and when Angie could see again Lockwood and Carlyle were… off.

The two of them still stood frozen, facing their five agents. Angie said, “Hey, guys?”

“Where are we,” said Carlyle, voice emotionless.

“Not sure,” said Lockwood, cheerful. “Erm. Hello, everyone.”

Angie blinked. “Huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asked dryly. “Hello, everyone. Good Lord, man.”

“Charlie,” Suyeon chided, again.

Lockwood coughed. Carlyle snickered, but schooled her expression when Lockwood turned back to her.

Angie studied them. They were… different. Something was off. “Guys,” she said again.

“Lockwood, why did you touch that without, like, gloves or something,” James asked, pretentious. Angie made a note to be annoyed at him later, when she has time. 

“Surely George would have said something if it needed gloves,” Charlie countered.

“He did!”

Suyeon scoffed. “Okay, sure, but it’s still not a terrible assumption to make. I dunno. It’s daytime.”

“Guys!” exclaimed Angie.

“What is it, Angie?” Des asked, meeting her eyes.

“Call me crazy,” Angie said quickly, “but I don’t think Lockwood and Carlyle know us.”

Des blinked. All five of them, James and Charlie and Des and Suyeon and Angie, turned to face Lockwood and Carlyle again.

“Do you know us?” Charlie asked, suspicious.

Lockwood turned to look at Carlyle, who shrugged. “Not to my knowledge,” said Lockwood.

“Oh, my God,” said Suyeon. “They’re younger.”

“The fuck?” Charlie blurted. “I mean. What?”

“How old are you?” James asked them, commanding, trying to use all his sixteen years of authority. It didn’t work.

Carlyle laughed incredulously. “Seriously, Lockwood, where the hell are we?”

“I’m- I’m seventeen,” said Lockwood with a smile, “but I’m taken, unfortunately, if that’s why you asked-”

“Lockwood,” laughed Carlyle. “You must know that the whole world doesn’t lust for you, by now.”

“On the contrary,” Lockwood replied easily. “I’ve grown more beautiful as I age. Everyone wants me.”

Charlie pretended to vomit, graphically. “Jesus Christ,” said James.

“You’re seventeen?” asked Angie. “You’ve had those damn white hairs since you were seventeen?”

“I suppose?” said Lockwood. 

“Jesus Christ,” said Suyeon. “That’s insane.”

But really, as Angie looked closer, she saw it. Carlyle’s face was rounder, softer. Lockwood was a little shorter. They both carried themselves differently. Carlyle was missing a scar on her forehead. Lockwood stood lighter. Both of them had shorter hair, though Carlyle’s was a more significant change—nowadays she wore her hair long, but this Carlyle kept her cropped nearly to her chin.

“I’m sorry,” said Carlyle. “I’m still not sure how I know any of you.”

They all fell silent. Then Des blurted, “We’re your employees.”

“We don’t have employees,” said Lockwood, like it was a question.

“Yes, you do,” said Charlie. 

“It’s 2020,” Suyon informed them.

“2020?” echoed Carlyle, disbelievingly. “That’s not a real year.”

“It’s 2011,” Lockwood said, emotionless.

“You’re s’posed to be twenty-seven,” Angie told Lockwood.

“Twenty-seven,” Carlyle breathed.

“Horrifying,” Lockwood decided. “No, thank you.”

James then said, “Look, everyone, listen here.”

Everyone listened. He froze. “Erm. Well. With Lockwood and Carlyle indisposed-”

“I’m just fine, though,” said Carlyle thoughtfully. “You, Lockwood?”

“I’m swell,” Lockwood agreed.

“I’m the oldest,” James continued stubbornly. “So. As interim leader-”

“Interim leader?” Suyeon laughed.

“Interim leader- I say we call Dr Karim.”

Carlyle snickered. “Dr Karim?” she laughed. “God. Yeah, call George, he’ll know what to do.”

“He generally does,” Lockwood said agreeably. “Here, where’s the phone?”

“I’ll call,” said James cooly. He walked away with a swish of his too-long jacket, and Lockwood cocked his head. Carlyle laughed out loud.

“I’m the cool one,” Angie informed them while they waited for Dr. Karim. “Angie Taylor. I’ve got Sight and shit else. That’s Des Thompson-” she pointed at them- “who keeps most of their thoughts inside, and they’re a Listener, best since you, Carlyle.”

“Sounds about right,” said Lockwood with a grin. Carlyle rolled her eyes.

“I’m always right,” Angie said, pleased. “James Moore is the oldest, he’s got Touch and is a beast with a rapier. He’s a narc. Charlie Sparrow’s the obnoxious one with unfortunately fantastic Sight. And Suyeon Kwon’s our researcher, and a sweetheart.”

“How old’s James?” Lockwood asked.

“Sixteen and a half,” Angie said. “Charlie’s just sixteen. Suyeon and I are fifteen. Des is almost fourteen.”

“I just turned sixteen,” Carlyle said thoughtfully. “Lockwood’s seventeen, though, so he’s still the oldest.”

Angie studied them closely. Their age was visible on their faces, mostly. Fewer wrinkles. Fewer scars. This Carlyle didn’t limp. This Lockwood wore his sideburns long. They both had shadows on their faces. Heavy-set eyes and gaunt cheeks.

“So you guys just dismantled the Fittes Agency, right?” asked Suyeon curiously. “If it’s 2011.”

Lockwood preened. “You all know about that?”

“Lockwood & Co. is the most famous agency in London,” Charlie snarked. “Of course we know about it.”

“The most famous agency in London,” Lockwood breathed, and Carlyle elbowed him. “Oi!”

“Don’t let your head fly away,” she told him sternly. “You don’t need any more attention.”

Lockwood grinned at her. “Fame looks good on you, though, Luce.”

Carlyle flushed. “Shut up.”

Angie watched eagerly. Lockwood and Carlyle were reserved with their relationship as adults. Of course Lockwood was always a gentleman, and Carlyle would sometimes call him Anthony, but she’d never seen them flirt before.

They both schooled themselves quickly, though. “Suyeon,” Lockwood said thoughtfully. “You’re Korean?”

“Yeah,” Suyeon said brightly. “You’ve told me about your mother!”

Carlyle turned to Lockwood. “Hm,” she said thoughtfully.

“Did I,” said Lockwood lightly. Easily. “Yes, well. Her parents were from Korea. She tried to teach me the language but I’m afraid it never stuck.”

“You’ve been learning it,” Suyeon said, pleased. “Lately, I mean. You started learning it.”

Carlyle had a little smile playing on her lips. Lockwood looked unruffled, but Angie thought he might be a bit pale. 

“Karim is here,” James announced, relieved, not having been paying attention to their conversation in the slightest. “I see his car.”

“His car?” Carlyle crowed. “He drives?”

“God, tell me Bones isn’t with him,” Charlie muttered. “She gives me the creeps.”

“Flo?” Lockwood said, delighted. “Oh, lovely. Let me go invite them in.”

“I can,” said James, affronted.

“It is my house,” Lockwood reminded him, and walked to the front door, Carlyle trailing behind him.

It was rather comical for Angie, watching Lockwood and Carlyle open the door to a George Karim ten years older than them. Also to watch George Karim find a Lockwood and Carlyle ten years younger than him.

“What the hell,” said George pleasantly. 

Lockwood gaped. Carlyle gasped. “You grew, Georgie,” she whispered.

“You shrank,” George informed her. “Kids,” he said to the rest of them. “What happened?”

“They touched the artefact you left!” Angie shouted immediately. “It wasn’t our fault!”

And, to Charlie’s dismay, out popped Flo Bones from behind George, sauntering through the front door. “Ey up, Locky,” she said casually. “Luce.”

“Good Lord,” said Lockwood. “Even Flo.”

Carlyle gaped. “This is starting to feel less like a practical joke,” she said, mostly to Lockwood.

“I’m starting to agree,” Lockwood replied, voice light. “But let’s not panic yet.”

“Huh?” said Charlie. “Panic? Why would you panic?”

“Probably because they don’t know anyone and their friends are too old,” said Des quietly.

“Everyone, shut the hell up,” George Karim declared, and everyone shut the hell up. “Someone put the kettle on.”

“There are biscuits in the living room,” offered Suyeon nervously.

Flo grinned. “Then to the living room we go. Lucy?”

So Carlyle led them into the living room and scrutinized everything she laid her eyes on. Meanwhile Lockwood seemed to be focusing on the people, studying Angie, her team, even George and Flo. “Our new furniture looks old,” Carlyle commented under her breath.

“George and Flo look good for twenty-six,” Lockwood replied softly.

“You look like infants,” Flo informed them both, loudly.

“I’ll get the kettle,” said Suyeon, looking for something to do. “James, give me a hand?”

“Sure,” said James after a beat of hesitation, and the two of them slipped into the kitchen while Carlyle and Lockwood sat with George and Flo.

Angie said, “‘Scuse me Dr. Karim, but what was the artefact that did all this?”

George looked at Angie thoughtfully. “We weren’t sure,” he said slowly, “but we thought it had something to do with time.”

“Yeah, no shit,” said Charlie. “Carlyle and Lockwood are like, our age.”

George frowned at him. “Long story short, I thought it related to our studies of the Problem, so I sent it to Lockwood and Lucy to look at closely. If they had read the instructions—” he paused to glare at Lockwood and Carlyle—“perhaps they would not have been de-aged.”

“De-aged?” echoed Des curiously. 

“You can’t blame us for this,” protested Carlyle. “Last thing I remember was getting home after a case.”

Lockwood nodded. “This is all- I dunno what to even do, in this situation.”

Flo laughed, and both Lockwood and Carlyle brightened at the sound. “Oh, she still honks,” said Lucy fondly.

“That’s our Flo,” agreed Lockwood.

“Oi,” said Flo. “I’m a taken woman.”

Carlyle’s eyes bugged out of her face. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Did you two- oh God, are you married?”

“Nope,” said Flo cheerfully. “I don’t believe in marriage.”

“Also Flo’s legally wanted,” added George. “Like, Florence Bonnard. Quite a record. So marriage would be difficult.”

Lockwood suddenly looked rather pink. “Erm,” he said. “Well, Georgie- rather, if you’re not married-”

“Oh, Christ,” said Carlyle, catching on. “Are we-?”

“It feels very wrong to be talking about this with them,” commented Charlie, a science-fiction fan. “Isn’t this against the rules, or something?”

“Yeah, perhaps we shouldn’t,” said Angie, chewing absently on her fingernails. Suyeon and James quietly walked back in, setting mugs down on the table around. Suyeon had a fantastic memory, so Angie wasn’t surprised when she sipped the tea and found it exactly to her liking.

George frowned. “It’s not as if they’ve time traveled,” he considered. “They’ve simply been returned to their physical and mental state from that time. So there’s no harm in telling them, I s’pose. So long as we can return them to their proper age.”

“You got married in 2017,” said Suyeon immediately, as if she had been waiting for the opportunity. “It was a lovely ceremony. It was in the papers.”

Carlyle’s eyes widened. Lockwood’s ears were flushed red. “Dunno if I wanted to know,” Carlyle said, more of an aside than anything.

“Three years,” said Lockwood in awe, or something like it.

“It was a summer wedding,” continued Suyeon. “We didn’t work for you then, ‘cause you hadn’t hired anyone new to the agency, but I saw the pictures in the paper. You looked really happy.”

Angie said, “Suyeon’s crazy. She’s been watching you guys since we were kids. What she’s trying to say is that we’re your team, and we’re gonna figure out why you’re young again. Right?” She focused an intense stare on Suyeon.

“Right,” agreed Suyeon after a moment.

“Close enough,” James muttered.

Carlyle said, doubtfully, “Yeah, okay.”

“Technically you were married when Lucy was twenty,” said George, “but sure. Let’s move on.”

“What?” asked Angie. Lockwood and Carlyle also stared at George like they wanted to ask.

“It is interesting,” said Flo, leaning forward in her seat and ignoring the rest of them. “How does this happen?”

George looked thoughtful for a moment. “We knew the artefact had something to do with time,” he said. “As we all remember from dear old Marissa, plasm can have… interesting qualities. Flo’s had experience with this kind of thing before.”

Flo shrugged. She didn’t elaborate. Suyeon opened her mouth like she was going to ask, so Angie kicked her ankle. She shut up.

“So we got- what, cursed?” Carlyle asked, sarcastic. “That’s not a real thing.”

George grimaced. “Well,” he said.

Carlyle cursed under her breath. “You make the same face when we completely fuck things up,” she said fervently. “We got cursed. That’s what happened.”

“Can you fix it?” Lockwood asked, looking more confused than upset. “It’s not- wait. But.”

“You aren’t cursed,” George clarified, haughty. “Not really. It’s just… it’s a little more complicated than you think. Also, less complicated.”

“You touched it,” Flo said. “The artefact.”

“I don’t remember,” Lockwood said. “I just- well. Last I remember was- God, it’s all a bit fuzzy. I remember- erm. Well, I remember going on a case with Lucy.”

Carlyle slowly flushed pink, clearly also trying to collect herself. “I remember the case,” she said, as if she would rather not say anything else.

“And then we got back,” Lockwood said, eyes closed, focused. “And then- and then-” He paused. “My head hurts.”

“Lockwood?” said Carlyle.

Lockwood crumpled to the floor. Everyone moved at once.

Before anything, though, Carlyle put her body in front of his own and said, “Don’t touch him!” Angie paused, taken aback. George Karim did not. He barreled forward and crouched at Lockwood’s side, taking his hand.

“We need to reverse it,” said George fervently. “Bugger.”

“What? What is it?” Carlyle asked. She looked frantic. Angie had never seen Carlyle look frantic before; she didn’t know the woman possessed the emotion. Lucy Carlyle is one of the most stoic faces in London.

Lockwood’s eyes opened very suddenly, and he inhaled deep. George sighed in relief. Carlyle grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him upright, which made George freak out again. “Lockwood,” she said. “You up?”

“Yeah,” said Lockwood, his voice cracking. “I- what happened?”

“Don’t try and think too hard about what you remember,” George said. “There are over ten years worth of memories in-between now and what you last remember that your mind doesn’t know what to do with. Don’t think about it or you’ll pass out again.”

Carlyle gave him a look. “How do you know this?”

“I told you,” George said drily. “I was researching it.”

“I don’t remember you telling us,” said Lockwood, his words a bit slurred. He sounded like he was drunk, or maybe half-asleep. Carlyle looked at him intensely. “My head hurts.”

“Close your eyes,” Carlyle said quietly. She slowly let him lay back down but moved so his head was in her lap. “Don’t think about it, okay?”

Lockwood did what she said, and that frightened Angie more than anything else. Lockwood never moved on. He finished his cases with frightening determination. He dotted every I and crossed every T and incinerated every Source, even when Carlyle would try and wheedle him into keeping one for research or curiosity. But Lockwood laid down and closed his eyes and didn’t argue, which meant that something was certainly wrong with him.

Tea helped. Tea always helped, as far as Angie was concerned. Lockwood started to perk up again after a cuppa, even if Carlyle still looked upset. 

“It’s strange,” murmured Charlie. Angie looked at him. “You know. Them.”

Angie shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “I feel like I've seen stranger.”

“Than our bosses getting- what did Karim call it?”

“De-aged.”

“Than our bosses getting de-aged?”

“Visitors are weird,” Angie said simply. Charlie rolled his eyes. 

“Dunno,” Charlie said. “It’s- unsettling.”

Angie nodded, despite herself. “I know what you mean,” she said, because despite Charlie being Charlie, she did.

Lockwood and Carlyle were drinking their tea on the floor, still, because Lockwood hadn’t gotten himself up yet, muttering to each other. Angie wanted to know what they were saying. She wanted to know what they were thinking. She tried to put herself in their shoes, but- it really was a situation to find oneself in, wasn’t it?

“What case did you just have?” Des asked Lockwood and Carlyle, to Angie’s surprise. Normally she was hard-pressed to get them to say anything. They’d always been quiet, not just because they were the youngest of the group.

Lockwood looked up at them on the couch. “Well,” he said. “It was- well.”

“He royally beefed it,” Carlyle told them. Lockwood elbowed her. “Fucking ow! You did!”

“I did not,” said Lockwood. “It was George’s fault.”

“Oi,” said George, looking up from his notebook. “I’m sure it was not.”

“It wasn’t,” Carlyle assured him. “It was all Lockwood’s. It was a Type Two, of course, but we were expecting Stone Knockers-”

“Only because George didn’t tell us-”

“Only because you made us leave before he could tell us!” Carlyle exclaimed. “Drink your damn tea.”

Lockwood drank his damn tea. Angie watched with wide eyes. 

“Stone Knockers,” said George thoughtfully. “Was it- God, was it the one with the Raw-Bones-”

“-that made Lockwood sick on my trainers?” Carlyle said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re damn right it was.”

“It wasn’t because of the Raw-Bones,” Lockwood protested, but Carlyle and George were clearly not listening.

“That was- years ago.” George ran a hand down his face.

Carlyle gave him a look as well. “Obviously. Look at yourself.”

“Oi,” exclaimed George. “I look wonderful for my age.”

“Flo aged surprisingly well,” Lockwood murmured.

Flo stuck her head in from the kitchen as if summoned. Angie has always respected Flo Bones, and held a healthy fear of her. “Ta, Locky,” she said, and disappeared again. Carlyle and Lockwood looked at each other in surprise, and then both burst into laughter. Angie had never seen George Karim smile, but he was close to it.

“Christ,” said Carlyle. “She looks so different but-”

“-she’s definitely the same Flo,” Lockwood agreed. “Just- old.”

“Ancient.”

“Decrepit, one could say.”

“Hey now,” George said. “You’re the same age. Lockwood, you’re the oldest, except Holly and Kipps.”

“Flo’s older,” said Lockwood stubbornly, with what could almost be called a pout. Angie wouldn’t call it that, because this is Anthony Lockwood of Lockwood & Co., the agency which solved the Problem, but someone could.

“Am not,” hollered Flo from the kitchen. “You’re July, I’m September.”

“Of ‘93?” Lockwood shouted, brow furrowed.

“Yes!”

“Goddamnit,” Lockwood muttered, and Carlyle started laughing again, and leaned into his space. Lockwood set his now-empty mug on the floor and wrapped an arm around Carlyle, and turned so his face was just in front of hers.

George cleared his throat. “I think I blocked all this out,” he said loudly.

“What?” Carlyle asked, but her voice cracked. Lockwood snickered and she elbowed him in the gut and he swore.

Angie couldn’t look away. It felt like one of the soaps her mother enjoyed. Lockwood and Carlyle as teenagers—her age—felt like something she shouldn’t be allowed to see. Lockwood and Carlyle were her bosses. They disassembled Fittes Agency when Angie was five. She didn’t remember the Black Winter, or the Chelsea Outbreak, or any of the things people her bosses’ age still talked about. And now they were- young. Again.

Not for the first time, Angie thought about Lockwood & Co. at its prime. She thought this might be the closest she ever got to seeing it in real life.

“This is weird, right?” Suyeon asked. “Like, I’m not crazy. This is bizarre.”

“No, it is,” Charlie agreed, as the rest of them nodded. “They’re- it’s weird.”

Des said, “James is older than Carlyle.”

“Don’t remind me,” said James, his face in his hands.

They’d traveled to Des’ room, in the attic. They were all still talking quietly even though there was little chance the sound would travel all the way down to the main floor. James had gestured in a way that meant don’t argue, just haul ass so Angie had nudged Charlie and they’d joined Des and Suyeon at the stairs. It was just like they were on a case; they were all grouped together whispering about the things that awaited them deep in the haunted house.

Just like in any case, they all fell into their natural roles. “We’ve got to just let Karim handle it,” James said, naturally leading, as much as Angie resented him for it. “Nothing we can do about it. It’s not even our fault, this time.”

“We have to help somehow,” Suyeon protested. “I could help figure this out if I just take a trip to-”

“-the Archives,” chorused all five of them at once, and Suyeon flushed. 

“No point,” Charlie said. “Surely Dr Karim would have found everything relevant about it already. I love you, Su, but somehow I doubt you’ll find something George bloody Karim missed.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “He’s only brilliant. It’s not like he doesn’t mess up sometimes.”

“God knows Lockwood and Carlyle tell us that enough,” James muttered. 

“‘It wasn’t us, it was the one-armed George!’” said Charlie in a not half-bad Lockwood impression.

“What do you think, Des?” Suyeon asked. Everyone paused.

Des hummed softly. “I want to know what that artefact is,” they said. “And I want to know how Dr Karim got his hands on it.”

There was a beat of silence after they spoke, just in case they had something more to say. Then Angie said, “Speaking of things we don’t know, did you all hear George say that Lockwood and Carlyle got married when she was twenty ?”

“Not surprising,” said Charlie. “You really think they waited to get hitched that long? Sources say they’ve been together since right after Fittes Agency was disassembled.”

“Sources say,” mocked James. “It’s George. It’s always George, and he could absolutely be fucking with us. Sorry, Des.”

Des didn’t appear to care about the swear. They were miles away, from what Angie could tell. This happened sometimes, though Angie could never tell if it was just Des lost in thought or if they were having one of their Moments, so she put a hand on their shoulder and gave them a little push. Des blinked up at her, so Angie let go and gave them a sheepish smile. 

“I bet they got married before they had a ceremony,” Suyeon had been saying. “I bet they got married quietly when they were very young, and only made it public in 2017. I bet that’s what Dr Karim meant.”

“God, you and Des,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes. “He’s told us a million times to call him George. Just call him George.”

Suyeon made a face. “It feels wrong! I studied him growing up. I can’t just- call him George.”

“They’re not that much older than us,” Charlie reminded her. “As we can all see, today.”

They all looked down towards the stairs. Angie couldn’t hear anything, not even kitchen clatters. She wondered if they were having a similar conversation about them, the newest generation of Lockwood & Co.

“It’s probably strange,” said Angie. “Blinking one day and everyone’s ten years older and you’re not even agents in your own agency.”

“Aging is normal,” James said.

“Not all at once,” Suyeon said. “Angie’s right. They’re probably freaked out just like we are.”

“I’m always right,” Angie said to herself. 

“They don’t know us at all,” Charlie agreed. “I guess we are a bit unsettling, as a group.”

Everyone looked at each other. Charlie wasn’t wrong. James was stocky and unfriendly; Charlie was spry and near manic; Angie was tall and loud; Des was silent with their scar taking up half their face. Suyeon was the closest to a friendly face among them, which is why she always talked to the press if any of the kids had to. Usually Lockwood happily handled interviews, though.

“I think we’re great,” said Angie. “We’re a delight.”

It was enough to make Des smile, which was a win for Angie. God knows the kid should be smiling more. Sure, thirteen is a tough time for anyone, but poor Des has been through the wringer. What with their family and their old agency and- well, what with everything.

“We’re something, alright,” Suyeon said wryly. “But Lockwood and Carlyle hired us for a reason. I’m sure they’ll realize that reason. Again. You know.”

Charlie nodded. “They’re destined to be our bosses. Surely they’ll come around.”

“They haven’t been horrible or anything,” James said. “I don’t know why you’re all concerned.”

“But they’re not Lockwood and Carlyle,” Angie said. “Like- not yet.”

“Do you think-?” started Suyeon. She cleared her throat. “You know- like- in ten years, we’ll all be completely different people. Isn’t that- I dunno, isn’t that scary? That in ten years we’ll be so different that the people in our lives would have to figure us out all over again?”

They all thought for a moment. “Well, not us,” Des said. Everyone turned to them. “I mean, we won’t have to. We’ll have known each other the whole time.”

Angie didn’t mind that thought. “Like George,” she said. “They picked up right where they left off with him, and Flo.”

“As if I’ll still be friends with you lot in ten years,” said Charlie, and James swatted him on the back of the head. “Hey!”

“Be nice,” James said. “I think it’s a nice thought. To have someone like Lockwood and Carlyle and George.”

Suyeon hummed. “They still know each other, too,” she said. “They’ve known each other for so long that getting, uh, de-aged didn’t stop them from knowing each other.”

“Or being in love,” Angie said, not as reverent as Suyeon. “Christ almighty. I’m glad they’re so damn reserved about it now.”

Someone yelled “Kids!” from the bottom of the stairs and they all started. 

“Duty calls,” James said, their fearless leader.

“Goddamnit,” said Charlie, his reluctant right-hand man.

“Onwards and upwards,” said Suyeon. Des, a Doctor Who fan, said “Allons-y.”

Angie didn’t say anything, but she followed behind and brought up the rear. Like she always did.

“Here’s what we know,” said George Karim, the man credited with discovering the source of the Problem. During Angie’s first week at Lockwood & Co., she arrived at work ten minutes early and found Dr Karim in the kitchen just in a t-shirt and his pants, frying bacon. It was a bizarre way to meet a person. “Lockwood and Lucy are mentally and physically in January 2011, just a few months after we- ah- took down Fittes Agency.”

“He really never talks about that without acting like he’s hiding something,” Charlie said, loud enough for George to hear.

“It’s because he’s most certainly hiding something,” Suyeon agreed. “No way Lockwood & Co. uncovers terrible things happening at Fittes Agency and then they just happen to stumble their way into how the Problem works.”

“They just won’t tell us,” Angie added. “We all know.”

Lockwood and Carlyle stared at them with wide eyes, and then stared at George with the same expression.

George scowled. “Don’t say a word,” he told them. “You know we can’t.”

Flo, sitting in the armchair and picking at her fingernails, said, “I still don’t see the problem with it.”

“We hired these people, did we not?” Lockwood asked. “Surely we can trust them.”

“It’s not about trust,” George said. “It’s about- safety. And DEPRAC.”

“God, don’t tell me DEPRAC still exists,” Carlyle groaned. “You mean we didn’t take that out next?”

“Not for lack of trying,” said Flo.

“Des literally lives here and you still won’t tell them about what really went down,” Suyeon complained, mostly to George. “Like. Come on. I’m going to figure it out anyway with the newspapers and my own brilliant mind-”

“Did you say Des lives here?” asked Carlyle. “Des is- that one? They live here?”

Des gave a little wave when Carlyle pointed at them, and nodded to answer her question. Carlyle’s eyes went wide, and Lockwood went pale.

George sighed and pinched his nose. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Not really,” said Flo, “but George feels bad about it.”

“I do not!”

Des said, “I live in the attic, since I started working here six months ago. Rent comes out of my paycheck.”

Carlyle studied Des. Really, it’s safer to say Carlyle studied their scar, the splatter that went across their cheek. Angie stiffened a bit because everyone knew that Des didn’t like when people stared, or when people asked, but Carlyle didn’t ask. Instead she said, “You must have good taste.”

“Why?” asked Des.

Carlyle grinned. “I room- er, roomed there too.” She looked at Lockwood. “I suppose now we- well.”

Lockwood looked rather pink. “Yes, we must.”

“You could have always just started using my old room,” George said, sounding rather pleased with himself.

“Not for a million pounds,” Carlyle replied immediately.

“You deep-cleaned it when he moved out,” Flo told them. “You hired somebody.”

Lockwood shuddered. “I’m sure the whole thing was a biohazard.”

“When did you move out?” Carlyle asked suddenly.

“Couple years ago,” George said. “Before you hired the kids.” He shook his head. “I was trying to tell you guys about the artefact.”

“Sorry, George,” said Lockwood, like he was saying ‘yeah, yeah’.

George rolled his eyes. “Anyway. To them, it’s January 2011. For us it’s November 2020. Almost a ten year gap. Historically, though, for this artefact, it doesn’t seem to set people back to any set time in particular; that is to say, not everyone who encounters it will be de-aged ten years, and some may go back significantly more or less.”

“So the interval means nothing,” said Lockwood.

“Not necessarily,” said George brightly. “Most people report—and by most people, I mean the three places I can find this artefact mentioned in a paper or record—that they were sent back to a particularly important moment in their life. I suppose this makes sense for you two, right after all that at Fittes.”

“Not for any other reason,” agreed Carlyle.

Suyeon elbowed Angie. Angie dutifully ignored her.

“What do your records say about- erm- fixing it, I s’pose,” Lockwood said. “Because if this is just-”

“I don’t want to be too-young forever,” said Carlyle. “Like- I don’t know what regrets people would have, what I have, but I don’t care about a do-over. We already did it. I don’t want to do it again.”

Lockwood nodded. George sighed. “The records I have- two of them don’t say anything about fixing it. And the last one- it’s a bit… up for interpretation.”

“Well, go on then,” said Lockwood. “Give it to us straight.”

“It’s Marissa’s old book,” George admitted. “The one we nicked from the Orpheus Library.”

Lockwood and Carlyle made a face. Angie looked at James first, then Suyeon, then Charlie and Des to see if any of them knew what the hell George was talking about. They all looked just as confused as she was. 

“Shouldn’t Holly be here?” Carlyle asked. “And Kipps?”

“Holly Munro?” Suyeon asked immediately. “Quill Kipps?”

Carlyle, Lockwood, George, and Flo all looked over at the kids at once, as if they all had forgotten they were there. “Oh,” said Lockwood. “Do you- have you guys met-?”

“Yes,” said James. “We’ve met Holly several times, and Kipps more than once.”

“I like Ms Munro,” Des said. Like usual, everyone went quiet for a moment, in case Des had more to say, but like usual, they were done. A kid of few words.

“Holly’s a peach,” said Carlyle. Lockwood made a face at her. Carlyle grinned back. “I’m glad you like her, Des.”

“Her memoirs,” said George, ignoring everyone else, “said a lot of things about this artefact. From when she was a teenager .”

“When was that, pre-war?” joked Carlyle.

“The sixties,” George said. “Early sixties. Fittes was fourteen when she and Rotwell got famous from the Mud Lane Phantom, in ‘62. She wrote this either before or shortly after then. And somehow she had her hands on all sorts of artefacts with all sorts of properties.”

“How’d you get it?” Charlie asked. 

George looked at him. “I didn’t,” he said.

Flo cocked her head and waved. “Guilty,” she said cheerfully.

“Of course,” muttered James, who liked to pretend he didn’t agree with Flo Bones as a concept. 

“Cool,” said Des quietly. Angie doesn’t know which way Des swings—they’re a kid, so it’s not like they’re in a particular rush—but she’s pretty sure they have a bit of a crush on Flo. And Holly Munro. And Carlyle.

“After Fittes went down, a lot of the stuff we know they had just- vanished,” George said. “You might know. It’s been a few months for you.”

Carlyle nodded. “Stuff’s going missing. Not that Barnes would let us say anything about- anything,” she said, looking at the agents, “but there’s hardly any proof of it anymore.”

“By God, if they don’t just tell us what happened to take down Fittes, I think I’ll die,” said Suyeon to Angie. “Can they be any more mysterious about it?”

“I think it’s part of their method,” Angie replied. “I don’t think they can talk about it. I think they would die.”

“Marissa Fittes had this artefact,” George said loudly. “She ran experiments on it, with the help of Ezekiel.”

“Who’s Ezekiel?” James asked.

“More ectoplasm?” Lockwood asked.

“Experiments like you ran, Georgie?” Carlyle asked.

George shook his head. “She always wondered about ectoplasm. How to use it for what she wanted. This wasn’t what she used, it’s not reliable enough, but it certainly gave her some ideas.”

“Wasn’t what she used for what?” Angie asked, finally unable to stop herself from asking.

“How does it work?” Suyeon asked. “How did it take them back physically and mentally? How can it return them?”

“What did Marissa learn from it?” Lockwood asked.

“I’m trying to tell you,” George told him. “She learned- well. She already knew that time wasn’t always linear, especially not to Visitors. They’ll loop forever, like that staircase with the bloody footprint chase, remember Lockwood, Lucy? They’re stuck while time moves on without them. And sometimes- Lucy, you told me- well, you’ll tell me, someday, about a Fetch you saw under Aickmere’s.”

Carlyle suddenly looked very pale. “I told you?” she asked quietly.

“Sorry,” said George, actually looking a bit sheepish. “But- Visitors aren’t really bound by time the way we are. Ectoplasm isn’t either. So when you have a clock that’s a Source that Marissa Fittes covered in ectoplasm-”

“Because she wanted to- yeah,” said Lockwood, sparing a quick worried look for Carlyle, who is rather still, now. “Okay. I think I’m following.”

“You touched the artefact,” George said. “The clock. And it de-aged you physically and mentally.”

“What did Marissa have to say about fixing it,” Carlyle said, curt.

George sighed. “From what she said? It just happens. The artefact is only temporary, if her memoirs are to be trusted. And honestly, I trust them. If it had worked forever, I doubt she would have needed to keep trying for- you know.”

Lockwood and Carlyle look at him. “So we just have to wait ?” Lockwood asked.

George nodded. “I would assume within a couple days. But it’s really not clear how long it could last.”

Lockwood ran a hand down his face. “Okay,” he said. “So- days just not knowing when. It could happen any time.”

“She said, and I quote,” said George, “‘upon a great commotion I found I was once again myself, restored to my complete size and age. With my return I did not immediately remember what had happened while I was changed, but given a few days most of my memories had been restored. Had Ezekiel not warned me, I would have had no idea how to use what had happened to me.’ And then she goes on more about Ezekiel and the Other Side, as she does.”

“The Other Side?” asked Des.

The adults- well, the adults and Lockwood and Carlyle- all turned to look at Des. “Well,” said George.

“Oh, my God,” said Suyeon. “Oh my God.”

Angie turned to her. Suyeon’s eyes were humongous. “What did you figure out?” Angie asked, because she knew it was something big.

“The Other Side,” said Suyeon, echoing Des, echoing George. “That’s what I was missing.”

For a moment, everyone just looked at each other. 

“Well, fuck it,” said Carlyle. “Yeah. We traveled to the Other Side. So did Marissa Fittes. She didn’t die. Penelope Fittes was also Marissa Fittes. We took apart Fittes Agency because Marissa was using it all to try and figure out eternal life, and she learned about it from her own personal Type Three ghost named Ezekiel.”

Angie stared for a moment. They all did, Angie and Suyeon and James and Charlie and Des. Even Carlyle looked a little surprised with herself.

“This will be fun,” said Flo.

All five of them started talking at once.

“Well, since there’s nothing more we can really do-” said George over them.

“And it’s just a waiting game for you lot-” said Flo.

“We’re probably better off at home-”

“Letting you rest-”

“Adjust-”

“Don’t you dare,” said Lockwood in a tone that brooked no argument. Unfortunately it seemed George and Flo were immune, because they continued making their way out of the living room towards the door, Angie and the rest of the agents following them, still asking questions. Angie wanted to know what the hell they did to Marissa Fittes once they found this out.

“You know curfew,” George called, throwing one hand in the air while the other found his keys. “Gotta be home on time!”

“You’ve never cared about curfew,” Carlyle spluttered.

“It’s two hours to curfew!” Lockwood argued, gesturing to a sunny window.

“I need you to answer my questions!” Suyeon shouted from behind everyone else.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Flo promised, and then she and George had shut the front door with themselves on the other side of it.

“Fuck,” said Lockwood. Angie couldn’t stop herself from laughing; Lockwood at seventeen even swore elegantly.

Suyeon, Charlie, and James all decided to leave before curfew as well. Lockwood and Carlyle refused to answer any more questions about anything, citing amnesia and headaches, so there wasn’t much point in staying when George and Flo weren’t there.

Angie would’ve gone home, but she felt uneasy leaving Des there by themself. Sure, Lockwood and Carlyle are still Lockwood and Carlyle, but they’re- different. They don’t know Des. Angie does. Des isn’t even fourteen yet, and they need some help sometimes.

The four of them, Lockwood and Carlyle and Angie and Des, end up all sitting down for dinner. Dinner is pasta because Angie found some penne in the cupboard and some cheese and sauce in the fridge. Lockwood and Carlyle are up and at ‘em, sure, but they’re still looking peaky. Angie cooks.

She’s been cooking for years, really—that’s what happens when you’re the oldest of five. Dad’s in and out of rehab so really it’s just her money and whatever side job Mum has at the moment to support her siblings. Angie sees very little of her own money, and it’s not like she really needs any of it. She lives at home, just a half hour bus ride from Portland Row, and Lockwood and Carlyle never make her pay to eat with them, and her whole life is spent either at home or at work. What would she spend money on? Mum and her brothers and sister need it more.

Sometimes she spends the night at Portland Row, though. She uses the guest room on the landing, with the window that overlooks the backyard. It’s clean and neutral and not hers, but it’s a place to stay when home and Mum and the kids are too much. 

The first time she had spent the night, Lockwood and Carlyle didn’t even ask. They had just let her stay, and fed her breakfast the next morning and didn’t mention it to the other kids, except Des who had been there the whole time, of course. 

This Lockwood and this Carlyle didn’t remember any of that. They didn’t agree to house Des, or let Angie crash some nights, or hire any of them in the first place. Carlyle was only a few months older than her now, Lockwood only a year and a half.

“So,” said Lockwood, once they all started eating the penne. “Des lives here, right? Do you as well, erm, Angie?”

“Not usually,” Angie said. “Just- sometimes I spend the night. In the guest room.”

“Is that George’s old room?” Carlyle asked.

Angie frowned. “No. The other one on the landing. Across from yours.”

“Oh,” said Lockwood. “Oh, that room.”

“We did paint it up fresh,” said Carlyle. “Not too long ago.”

“True,” Lockwood agreed faintly.

Angie didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t really want to push it. Not until she could talk about it tomorrow with James and Suyeon. And Charlie, she supposed.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Carlyle slowly. “Erm. Des, how long have you lived here?”

“I moved in six months ago, when I started working here,” said Des.

“They’re fourteen next month,” Angie told Lockwood and Carlyle. Best Listener since you, Carlyle.”

“Says who?” Lockwood asked with a smile.

“Says you,” Angie said. “Both of you.”

Des shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“They’re brilliant,” Angie insisted. “Don’t let them undersell it. They’re fantastic in the field. Better than I am, that’s for sure. I’ve just got average Sight in a team that already had a Sight prodigy. Don’t ask me why you hired me.”

“You’re our backbone,” Des said. Angie looked at them, surprised. “We need you.”

“Des,” said Angie, pleased. “That’s sweet.”

Lockwood had a hand propped on his chin, his bowl already empty. “Angie- erm, do you have a full name? Is Angie short for something? I don’t- I hope I’m not being too familiar, as your employer.”

Angie laughed. “Nah, just Angie.” She was lying; her full name was Angela, which she hated. “Angie Taylor. Des isn’t short for anything either, right?”

“It used to be,” said Des darkly.

“Right,” said Angie. “And I know your full name is Anthony John Lockwood, but you prefer us to call you by your last name. So we’re not too familiar.”

“When did you start working here, Angie?” asked Carlyle curiously. “How did you end up at Lockwood & Co.?”

Angie sighed. “You put out an advert for new agents two years back,” she said. “You hired James and Charlie then. They were both fourteen. A couple months after that you hired Suyeon, out of nowhere- it was actually because George sent her your way after hearing about her doing research she wasn’t supposed to be doing. A year after you first put out the hiring adverts you ended up on a case outside the Royal Burial Ground, in Windsor. I worked there.”

“Night watch,” said Lockwood.

Angie nodded. “I impressed you lot, somehow. Dunno what I did but you gave me a job offer that night. God knows it was more than the pennies I was making as night watch.”

“You hired me after my case,” said Des suddenly. Angie looked at them, surprised again. “I was your client. Sort of. My mother died and the state was required to handle her case except all the state groups refused it. They had to hire externally.”

“It was four months after I joined,” said Angie.

Carlyle nodded. “Glad to see we’ve kept the tradition, then,” she said.

“Of what?” Angie asked.

“Hiring people when they’re at their absolute lowest.”

After dinner they all trooped up to bed. Lockwood and Angie stopped at the first landing but Des and Carlyle kept going, until Carlyle caught herself and laughed a little.

“You can come see the room,” Des offered. Angie was impressed. This was the most she’d heard them say in one day in a long time. 

Carlyle smiled. “If you don’t mind,” she said, and followed them up. Angie followed Carlyle and Lockwood followed her.

Des’ room was nice. It was small, really only big enough for a twin bed, a bedside table, and a dresser next to the tiny bathroom. The windows overlooked the whole house, up high in the attic, where the light of the ghost-lamps just barely streamed in through the glass at night. Angie always liked Des’ room. They always kept it neat and always made their bed. 

“Oh, it’s so different,” said Carlyle, not unhappily. Angie didn’t know what to make of Carlyle’s expression; she wasn’t upset, but she wasn’t happy, either. She just looked confused, or overwhelmed.

Lockwood said, “I’m going to go look in the guest room.” He went back downstairs.

“Give him a minute,” said Carlyle, after he was gone. “Do you- has he told you about that room?”

“No,” said Angie, and Des shook their head.

Carlyle nodded. “He will. One day. Give him a minute, and then come down, okay? I’ll have him out of there in just a minute so you can go to bed, Angie.”

“Goodnight,” said Des. 

Carlyle looked surprised. “Goodnight, Des,” she said, with a little smile. Then she followed after Lockwood. 

Once Carlyle was downstairs Des flopped onto their bed, face down. Angie snickered. “Yeah. Me too.”

“So much,” they said, muffled. 

“So much,” Angie agreed. 

Des turned onto their side. “Don’t know how to talk to them.”

“You’re doing fine so far,” said Angie. “Doing more than fine. They like you. Of course they do. They already know you, somewhere in their heads.”

Des nodded. “They will go back to normal,” they said.

“They will,” said Angie. “Tomorrow we’ll make George properly explain things. Lockwood and Carlyle will finally tell us about what the hell happened when Fittes Agency was dissolved, and how George figured out the Problem.”

“So much,” said Des. 

“Yes,” said Angie. “But it’s important.”

“Maybe they’ll be back when we wake up,” said Des. 

Angie looked at them, flat on their bed. They were so small, almost birdlike, all knees and elbows and ribs. Just a little flop of mousy hair over their eyes, tucked behind their ears, curling over their neck. It had been six months and Angie already thought of herself as an older sister to five kids instead of four. 

“Goodnight,” she said. “Eggs in the morning?”

“Scrambled,” Des said politely. “‘Night.”

Angie went downstairs and, as promised, Lockwood was not in the guest room. She put on the pajamas she left in the room for this kind of night and looked at everything. She tried to think of what could have happened here, to make Lockwood react so strangely. The only thing she can point to as odd is the always fresh lavender around, but plenty of people do that in their guest rooms. 

Angie spun in circles on the carpet floor in her bare feet and wondered what terrible thing happened. She wondered if every house was haunted.

Chapter Text

The next morning Angie scrambled eggs before Des was even up. Lockwood and Carlyle came down together, and flushed when they saw Angie. As if she didn’t know they were together. They were married.

“Eggs? Toast, too,” she offered. 

“Yes, thanks,” said Carlyle sheepishly. 

“Thank you,” said Lockwood. “Feels like you’re the one cooking our meals in my house.”

“Sorry,” said Angie.

“No, really, thanks,” said Carlyle. “Neither of us are great cooks.”

“I know,” said Angie. “Believe me.”

Des came down just a few minutes later, hair still tangled and half-smushed on the side they must have slept on. They had new clothes on, jeans and a t-shirt, but they seemed half asleep. “Eggs,” they said blearily. 

“Still hot,” said Angie, and gave them a full plate. 

Angie had some, now that Des had theirs. When the toast popped she gave one to Des and buttered one for herself. A go-to breakfast, because it really always was a toss-up on what food Lockwood and Carlyle kept in the house. No one complained. 

“What do you know about us?” Lockwood asked, unprompted. He had finished his plate, of course. Angie was noticing that he ate incredibly fast, the same way Charlie always did. 

“What d’ya mean?” Angie asked. 

Lockwood gestured. “What do you know about us? What have we told you about? What’s common knowledge?”

“I don’t want to fry your brain,” said Angie uncertainly. “Didn’t George say something about you thinking too hard about what you’re missing?”

“We won’t think about it,” Carlyle assured her. 

“I’m just- curious, I guess,” said Lockwood. 

Angie sighed. She looked to Des; they shrugged. “Lockwood & Co. is the most famous agency in London,” she started. “And the smallest, still. You never expanded until two years ago, now that you’ve certainly lost your talent. Twenty seven is later than anyone.

“Everyone knows you from 2011, when Fittes Agency shut down. Lockwood & Co. were part of exposing the corruption in the higher ranks, and battling their weaponized Sources. Ever since you’ve been quite famous, and very successful. The few years before you started hiring were quiet, as you lost your Talent, I assume, but now you’re just as famous as you were back then.”

Lockwood made a thoughtful noise. “What do you know about us?” he asked. “Personally. Not the agency.”

“Carlyle joined when she was thirteen,” said Des. “But she told people she was fourteen until she actually was fourteen and couldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Carlyle startled, and then laughed like she couldn’t help it. “True,” she said. 

“You got married in 2017. Three years ago this past August. It was a small ceremony but pictures were everywhere. People posted them online.”

“Online,” said Lockwood. 

“Like, computers,” said Angie. “You know. On the Internet.”

Carlyle and Lockwood stared at her blankly. 

“Surely you had computers in 2011,” said Angie, concerned. 

“I think George had seen some, in labs and such,” Lockwood said slowly. “I thought they were just- fancy machines.”

“I’ll have to show you the computer room later,” said Angie. “It’s the other room on the landing.”

“George’s?” Carlyle asked. “I half expected his room to still be one big biohazard.”

“You’re actually not hopeless with technology,” Angie said. “Well, Carlyle is, but Lockwood’s half good at it.”

“We know your parents are dead,” said Des to Lockwood. Angie jumped a little; Carlyle’s mouth fell open. “Sorry. Things we know about you.”

Carlyle closed her mouth. “I bet you and George get along,” she said to Des.

“Glad you know,” said Lockwood haltingly. He tugged at the hem of his shirt. Angie felt viscerally uncomfortable. Lockwood was unflappable. She didn’t like seeing him… flapped.

“They were researchers, who studied the Problem,” said Angie hurriedly, as if any of this conversation is salvageable. “Anthropologists, you told us.”

Lockwood nodded. He didn’t say anything. God, Angie wanted to scream. 

The phone rang. Angie gave a little prayer of thanks to whoever was listening and jumped to answer it.

“Lockwood & Co.,” she said.

“Angie,” said James. “Good. I’m glad to get you.”

Angie exhaled. “Are you coming over?”

“We all are. I called George; he said he’ll bring Munro with him, too. We’ll all be there ‘round eleven.”

“Thank you,” said Angie. “It’s… strange, here.”

James said, “I believe it. Ta.” He hung up. Angie hated him, sometimes.

“There’s a whole method to it, now,” Des was saying when Angie walked in. “The Carlyle Method, of course. You taught me.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Oh, this Listener nonsense-”

“It works,” said Des and Carlyle in unison. They both looked at each other in surprise, which made Angie snicker.

“I don’t know what you know about it,” said Lockwood to Angie, “but every time I tried to stop it from happening, Luce just got better at it.”

“That’s what I’m gathering as well,” said Angie, staring at Des. They gave her a little smile and looked away. 

“I’m surprised other people know about it,” Carlyle said. “Though I s’pose Des is hardly anyone. They’re a member of Lockwood & Co.”

“It’s not very popular,” Des agreed, blushing.

“They’ll be here at eleven,” Angie informed everyone. “George and the whole lot, and Holly Munro.”

“I’m interested to see Holly,” Lockwood said to Lucy. “Ten years later.”

“Me also,” said Lucy, with a strange expression on her face.

After breakfast they all went to their rooms and got properly dressed and cleaned for the day. Angie showered and changed out of her pajamas and brushed her teeth. By the time eleven rolled around she was only just ready to greet people. 

Some—James, Charlie, and Suyeon, for three—called how long it took her to get ready a flaw. Angie knew though that she was simply taking the time she needed. Nothing wrong with being a minute or two behind, especially if one looked fantastic.

Angie ran down the stairs two at a time as someone knocked over and over again at the door. She was almost sure it was Charlie and had a glare waiting for him until she opened it to find Flo Bones, grinning down at her.

“Erm- hello,” said Angie, and she pulled the door all the way open.

Flo walked in, then George, then James and Charlie and Suyeon, then Holly Munro.

Holly Munro was not a member of Lockwood & Co., but she sometimes tagged along on cases as a consultant and more often attended dinners and parties with Lockwood and Carlyle. She was a member of the team that helped take apart Fittes Agency and helped solve the Problem, and she was famous in her own right, but now she worked in the government and helped with assigning cases, and such. Angie didn’t really know what she did there, but it was something important, and something behind a desk.

Carlyle audibly gasped when Holly walked in, enough to make Angie turn and stare. She flushed red and cleared her throat. “Hi, Holly.”

Holly’s eyes went wide. “My God,” she said. “You weren’t kidding, George.”

“If I was s’posed to be twenty-six,” began Carlyle. “That makes Holly- God, Hols, are you thirty?”

“Twenty-nine,” said Holly, affronted. “I still have a few months. And you’re one to talk, seeing as how you’ve somehow gone back to being sixteen. I remember you saying not three weeks ago that they couldn’t pay you to do sixteen again.”

“Well I don’t remember that,” Carlyle said, scowling, and Holly burst out laughing. “What?”

Holly had to take a moment before she could catch her breath. George had already gone to the kitchen but Flo was still hovering, and she said, “It’s frightening, isn’t it?”

“It’s uncanny,” agreed Holly. “Sorry, Luce, it’s just- God, I remember your faces and here they are again, in real time.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” said Lockwood.

“No,” said Carlyle, “but I feel the same way when I’m looking at all of you.”

“Like I should know them,” Lockwood said thoughtfully. “Like I should know you, but it’s just not- there.”

“I left something upstairs,” said Des, unprompted, and they turned on their heel and headed up. Angie blinked.

“Well, I’m parched,” said Holly. “Lockwood, Lucy, could I trouble you for a cuppa?” She looked around at everyone. “Angie, I like the locs for you.”

Angie blushed. 

The adults—the adults plus Lockwood and Carlyle—headed into the kitchen, but first James then the rest of the agents headed upstairs after Des. At the first landing they heard Carlyle shout “You’re married?!”

“I don’t remember when Holly married her wife,” admitted Suyeon, like this was a personal failing. “I wonder if it’s soon for them.”

“Surely not,” James said. “Wasn’t Holly like, twenty when all this happened? I’m sure she’s not getting married yet.”

“Apparently Lockwood and Carlyle did,” Charlie reminded him.

“Come upstairs,” said Des, sticking their head down the staircase. Everyone followed them up.

“What have we learned,” said James, once they were all in their little huddle.

“Lockwood and Carlyle are- strange,” said Angie. “They’re both a lot less well-adjusted. Which makes sense, I guess.”

“How so?” Charlie asked.

“Lockwood is- weird about the guest room,” Angie said. “And weird about mentioning his parents, and weird about Carlyle.”

“Carlyle is weird about him,” Charlie said. “Don’t forget. That one’s mutual.”

“Something happened in the guest room,” Des said quietly. “Something bad.”

Angie turned to them. “How do you know?”

“I know,” said Suyeon, quietly. Sadly. “It was in the paper. Almost twenty years ago, now.”

After a beat, Charlie said, “Well, are you going to tell us?”

Suyeon glared at him. “I was taking a moment.” She inhaled sharply. “Lockwood had an older sister. Jessica. She died in her room in 2003, somehow related to a Visitor. The papers don’t say exactly what happened.”

“Oh,” said Angie.

“Oh,” said James.

“Oh,” said Charlie. “So Ange, you’ve been sleeping in a dead girl’s room?”

Suyeon kicked at his shin. “Be respectful!”

“That makes sense,” Angie said, ignoring Charlie. “A ghost killed his sister, after both his parents died.”

“Explains why he’s so fucked up,” Charlie muttered.

“Explains the sounds,” said Des vaguely. They all waited for them to elaborate. They did not.

James cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said. “That’s one mystery solved. Anything else you found in the Archives, Su?”

Angie bristled at James using a nickname for Suyeon, though she really couldn’t place why. Suyeon didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Nothing other than what Dr Karim mentioned yesterday about the artefact—there’s nothing about it, really, besides those two articles and apparently that book they were all so weird about yesterday.” Suyeon’s face lights up. “But- this is what’s really interesting. Yesterday Dr Karim got a little… loose-lipped.”

“We all noticed that you figured something out,” Charlie said. “Spill.”

“I had to confirm first,” Suyeon said. “You know how the first known outbreak of the Problem was in Kent?”

“Sure,” said Angie.

“Marissa Fittes is from Kent. Which makes sense, that someone from the first area of the outbreak would be the first to figure things out, to rise above. But then- everywhere she moved, the Problem followed.”

James said, “Of course she went to places with the most trouble. Places with a lot of Visitors.”

“No!” exclaimed Suyeon, eyes wild. “She moved somewhere, and then the reported number of visitors rises exponentially. It followed her. Not the other way ‘round.

“And the Other Side- George said something about the Other Side yesterday. He could have been talking about something hypothetical but if it means what I think it means… Lockwood & Co. was into big things, when Fittes Agency closed down. Or, maybe, Fittes Agency was into big things before Lockwood & Co. shut them down.”

Angie was following, but only just. “What big things?” she asked. “Please, Suyeon, I know you’re a genius, but I’m not.”

Suyeon was too excited to be phased by Angie asking. “I think Marissa Fittes found out a way to travel to where Visitors are from. The literal Other Side. You know, like, the afterlife, or whatever.”

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” said Charlie.

“What did Carlyle even say about it all?” Angie asked. “I know she blurted a bunch out, but-”

“‘We traveled to the Other Side. So did Marissa Fittes. She didn’t die. Penelope Fittes was also Marissa Fittes. We took apart Fittes Agency because Marissa was using it all to try and figure out eternal life, and she learned about it from her own personal Type Three ghost named Ezekiel.’” quoted Suyeon. She blushed. 

“It’s still freaky,” muttered Charlie. “I don’t care how many times you do it. It’s freaky.”

“Thank you, Suyeon, for your… uncanny memory,” James said. “I assume that’s how you knew what to look for.”

Suyeon nodded. “Fittes traveled to the Other Side, which did something to make the Problem worse. Lockwood & Co. traveled to the Other Side to stop her, and by stopping her from traveling across, the Problem starts to fade.” Suyeon exhaled. “I think. This is all just theory.”

Angie shook her head. “Christ,” she said. “This is… this is a lot.”

“And it just happened for them,” said Charlie. “Like, a couple months ago, for them.”

“Makes sense that some things are still fresh,” said Suyeon. 

“If they’ve all traveled to the Other Side,” said Des, “it would explain why they all have white hair.”

Angie hadn’t even considered that the whole lot of them had gone a bit grey, but Des of course was right. Holly Munro had a stylish grey streak; George was already a bit salt-and-peppered; Quill Kipps had white at his temples, and he was the oldest of them at thirty-two. “They’ve all been,” she said. “What do you think it’s like?”

“I can’t imagine it’s pleasant,” said Charlie, half laughing. “Just hanging out with a bunch of angry Visitors who want to kill you.”

“They don’t all want to kill you,” Des said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

Angie couldn’t stop thinking about it. The Other Side. “Suyeon, you’re brilliant,” she said, because no one else had said it and it was true. “George is also a bit thick, but you’re brilliant.”

Suyeon smiled. “Thanks. I think so, too.”

“Kids!” someone bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “Get down here!”

They all looked up at each other. “Don’t say anything,” James told them. “Just let them tell us what they want to tell us. We’ll discuss it all later.”

“Sir yes sir,” joked Charlie, but they all nodded.

“So,” said Holly Munro. “You told the kids about the Other Side.”

“On accident,” George insisted. “My prodigy has begun to surpass her master.”

Suyeon said, hushed, “Am I your prodigy?”

“It doesn’t matter how you told them,” Holly said, louder. “You told them, is the point. Which means we have to tell them what they absolutely cannot say to anyone else.”

“What do you know?” George asked.

The five of them sat, silently. Des, Suyeon and Charlie had the couch, like usual, while James sat on the floor by Charlie’s legs and Angie perched on the armrest. Lockwood and Carlyle were squeezed together in the armchair; George and Holly had the other couch, while Flo lay on the floor with her legs at a ninety degree angle, propped up by the bottom of the couch.

“I know you know something,” George said. “Come on, Suyeon. You went to the archives last night, and then gathered everyone upstairs to tell them about it. Spill.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Suyeon, nose turned up.

“You traveled to the Other Side somehow where ghosts are from and so did Marissa Fittes and that’s how you solved the Problem and how you took down Fittes Agency and it’s why you all have grey hair,” spilled Charlie. He cringed even as he said it.

“Goddamnit, Charles,” said James, pinching the bridge of his nose.

George looked impressed. “A lot of pieces put together with very little information,” he said. “Nice work, Miss Kwon.”

Suyeon adjusted her hair. “Thanks.”

“First Holly is married,” Carlyle said, “then a new kid is smarter than George. What is the world coming to?”

“Lockwood & Co. is still made up of the finest agents in the country, though,” Lockwood said, and grinned.

Everyone relaxed, a little bit, all at once. Angie couldn’t figure out why until she realized it made everyone feel a bit better to see Lockwood’s patented grin. That, if nothing else, hadn’t changed.

The phone rang. Everyone jumped, especially Lockwood and Carlyle. James was the first to get up and answer it.

No one started talking, so they all could hear half the conversation. “Lockwood & Co.,” James said, voice a bit more polite than usual. “Hello. Erm. Well, we would need to have a consultation with you first- no, definitely not before tonight- okay. Hang on, sir. Give me one moment to speak with my supervisor.” James put a hand over the receiver. “Cold Maiden in a backyard. Paid double to get it done tonight. What do we think?”

“Yes,” said Angie and Charlie in unison, in agreement as they usually were when words like paid double were involved.

“I don’t see why not,” said Lockwood. “We’re all technically field ready.”

“Not at all!” said Holly, before cringing at her volume. She whispered, “I mean, no chance. Lockwood and Lucy, you could- change at any time. We have no idea what will happen. We don’t even know the origins of the artefact-”

“Yes,” said Carlyle. “Tell them yes, James.”

James took his hand off the receiver. “We’ll do it tonight. What’s the address? We could be there around sunset, around four. Four’s good? Fine. Thank you, sir. Payment will be due on our departure from your property the following morning, assuming all has been settled. We’ll have paperwork for you this evening.” He paused. “Anything else for us to know coming in?” He paused again. “Cold Maiden in the backyard, yes. Anything else?”

“Somehow he’s so polite,” muttered Charlie, “but so dull on the phone.”

“He’s better when he’s not pretending,” Angie said.

Charlie made a face at her. “Is he?”

“Okay, it’s only in Hackney,” said James, putting the phone back in its stand. “So we have plenty of time to be ready.”

“Swell,” said Lockwood. “Luce, you get the kits in order. Hols, you’ll pull up the paperwork? Make sure we’re getting double our rate. George, you think there’s enough time before we leave to nip to the archives? See what you can’t find about- oh, what was the address?”

“12 Walsingham,” James said slowly. “But- well, Lockwood, George and Holly don’t work here.”

Lockwood paused. He looked at Carlyle, then George, then Holly. “I see,” he said. “Well, then. I suppose- well. George- I mean, no. James, what do you usually do? How do you divide up the tasks before a case?”

James nodded at him. “Suyeon, archives,” he said. “Des, go with her. Angie can prep kits, and then make early dinner so we can eat before we head out. Charlie and I will draw up the paperwork. Lockwood and Carlyle, if you like, we can tell you about how we run things.” James grimaced. “I mean, really it’s your system. It’s not- I’m not trying to-”

“I understand,” said Carlyle. “It’s fine, James. It would be great if you talked us through it.”

Holly still sat on the couch, looking more upset by the minute. Angie hated this. First Lockwood and Carlyle couldn’t stay cool like they always did. Now Holly Munro, perfect and put-together Holly Munro, was turning pink with frustration. Even her goddess braids looked frazzled. 

Angie just wanted things to be back to normal. She wanted Lockwood and Carlyle to look their age, to act their age, to be their supervisors instead of people who knew less about the world around them than Angie did. She was only a few months younger than Carlyle, now. Lockwood and Carlyle still had Talent. They were all going to go on a case tonight and Angie had no idea how it was going to go. 

Suyeon and Des set out for the archives straight away, since it was already half past eleven and they’d have to be out the door quarter ‘til four. Lockwood and Carlyle went up to their room, presumably to get ready for the case but really Angie had no idea what they were doing. Angie started for the kitchen to head down to the basement to prep the kits, but she lingered outside the doorway for a moment.

“It is just like them at seventeen,” said Holly, except she sounded distraught. “Just like them. And they’re going to go on a case! Like this!”

“They went on a lot of cases like that,” said Flo. Angie peeked in and saw that she was upright, now, legs criss-crossed on the floor. “They’ve been going on cases since they were far younger than that.”

“You know what I mean,” said Holly hotly. “It’s- irresponsible. It’s dangerous.”

“It’s just like them at seventeen,” George said.

Holly made a frustrated sound. “I can’t believe you two are just letting them do this!”

“What are we supposed to tell them, Holly?” Flo asked. “Should we ask them to stop doing their jobs? To do as we say in their own house? Sure, things have changed in ten years, but they’re still competent. God knows they did harder things at seventeen than most people do in a lifetime.”

There was a moment of quiet. Then George said, “Well put, Flo.” And Angie walked with silent feet to the kitchen.

“How are you feeling about all this?” Angie asked, swinging her feet back and forth.

James made an Idon’tknow sound. He drummed his fingers on his knees.

The garden wasn’t as pretty this time of year. November is a difficult month for anything to grow. The plants all looked cold and dead. No flowers were blooming. Angie still sat out here before every case she could make time for, though. Something about it settled her.

Today, James was out here before she was. She couldn’t ask him to leave, but she wasn’t going to miss out, either.

“You’re still bossing everyone around,” Angie said.

“Well, that’s my job,” said James seriously, but when Angie looked at him he was smiling. “I’ll make sure it all goes fine.”

“Assuming that everyone else does their job,” said Angie. “Assuming Suyeon is able to research properly, that Des doesn’t have another bad night and have to miss the case-”

“Hopefully we should be able to handle a Cold Maiden down a man,” James said. “I have that much faith in us, at least.”

Angie shrugged. “Dunno if we deserve that much. We’re a bit of a disaster.”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” said James. “But, I dunno. I feel like we’re at least- a functioning disaster. We get the job done.”

“And we do it in style,” said Angie, quoting Charlie, who often said this when praising Lockwood & Co.’s lack of dress code.

“I had to lie to my Mum and Dad yesterday,” said James suddenly. “About Lockwood and Carlyle. They asked how they were, and if we had more cases lined up for the week.”

“What did you say?” asked Angie.

James made a face. “That we hadn’t picked the cases for the week yet, but that they were fine. Mum didn’t believe me, I think.”

“God, you’re a terrible liar. This is why we never let you talk to clients.”

“We shouldn’t be lying to clients at all!”

“Tell that to Lockwood and Carlyle.”

“Fine! I will! When they’re not our age.”

That shut Angie up. They sat for a minute, exhaling clouds of cold air, breath intermingling in front of them. Angie nudged James’s foot with her own, lightly enough it could have been an accident. It wasn’t, because their work boots were all heavy and difficult to move even when you wanted to, but it could have been.

James nudged her back. Angie felt her face heating up, and she didn’t know why.

“Suyeon and Des should be back soon,” James said, quieter than before. “We’ll call the cab once they’re here.”

“Should be an easy enough case,” said Angie.

James knocked three times on the wooden swing they sat on. Angie laughed a little. The wind whistled through the apple tree and the branches tapped on the guest room window. Angie could hear it every night she slept over. The guest room had a lovely view of the yard, and the apple tree.

“We’ll be fine,” said James, a beat too late. Angie looked at his face, his sunken dark eyes, his thick dark eyebrows, his even tan skin. “We’ve got Lockwood and Carlyle at the height of their agency days, right? What could go wrong?”

This time, Angie knocked on wood. James gave her a wry smile. “Do you think,” Angie started, a grin working its way onto her face, “that Lockwood has realized that your coat is just copying his?”
“It is not!” declared James, clearly offended. “So- no! Of course not! Because I’m not copying him!”

“You’re totally copying him,” Angie said, thrilled. “You even do that swish thing he used to do when he was our age.”

James blanched. “Oh God,” he said. “He’s that age now . He’s going to-”

“He’s gonna notice,” Angie said, nodding. “It’s okay. Come to terms with it now.”

James put his head in his hands. “Let’s just hope they don’t remember any of it when they go back to normal, yeah? Maybe they’ll forget everything that happened.”

Angie patted his shoulder, then almost froze thinking about the implications of patting his shoulder. Whatever. Too late. “It’ll be fine,” she said.

The case did go, as usual, tits up.

“Des, if you don’t start talking to these bitches it’s going to be a long goddamn night!” Charlie shouted, wildly flailing his rapier at three Cold Maidens.

“You could also be, you know, getting the Source,” James hollered, much less wildly beating back two more Maidens with his own rapier, the blade moving so fast it made Angie dizzy.

Angie, meanwhile, was rifling furiously through old boxes, as they were the most likely location for the Source. “Suyeon said this was supposed to be in-and-out,” Angie yelled furiously, her hair falling loose from its knot, locs falling into her eyes. “She said-”

“Well, I don’t give much of a damn what Suyeon said, right now,” James said. “Clearly she was wrong. Let’s handle this how we know we can.”

Angie took a deep breath, pushed a loc behind her ear, and kept rummaging. Most of the boxes had nothing of significance. It was an attic. Of course nothing cool or fun was up here. Just dusty boxes, cobwebs, and apparently nine honking Cold Maidens.

“Where are Lockwood and Carlyle?” Charlie asked. “Oh, fuck me sideways, that one almost got me.”

“They were with Suyeon,” Angie huffed. “Exploring the rest of the house.”

“Too bad they’re missing all the action!” declared James, followed by a beautiful flourish with his rapier that made both of his Maidens disappear. “Alright, Angie, what’s the sitch?”

“I can’t find it,” she said frustratedly. “I can’t find anything important in these boxes, it’s just trash and shit that no one needs-”

“I’m Des Thompson,” said Des suddenly, eyes closed. “I can hear you. I can help you. What do you need from me?”

Angie looked up at them. God, they looked small at night. Holding out a hand towards four Cold Maidens. Angie knew she was only two years older than them but- God. Des was just so young.

If the Maidens replied to Des, Angie couldn’t hear them. She snapped out of it. “We need everyone up here,” she said. “The Source is here, it has to be, otherwise we wouldn’t have nine ghosts trying to kill us with misery and anguish.”

“They’re disgusting,” said Charlie. He paused. “Huh. Des, I dunno what you’re doing, but I think it’s working.” His Cold Maidens had started drifting away, joining the cluster all frozen, facing Des.

“I’m going to go get them,” Angie told James. “We need all hands on deck, we’ve got nine Cold Maidens-”

“Did you say nine?” Lockwood asked brightly, his head with his too-young face appearing at the ladder entrance. He looked around. “Oh. Nine, indeed.”

“Did you say nine?” Carlyle’s voice rang from the bottom of the ladder.

Lockwood hurried up the rest of the way, then Suyeon appeared, then Carlyle. “Jesus,” whispered Carlyle. She had a hand to her ear. “Fuck. Okay.” She moved over to Des, where they were facing off with all nine ghosts, standing perfectly still. “Let’s chat.” Gently, she put a hand on Des’ shoulder. They looked up at her. She grinned down.

“While they do that,” said Lockwood, and he started rifling through more boxes, ones Angie had already been through.”

“It’s not in the boxes!” Angie shouted, overturning old dinner chairs and flipping through scrapbooks. “I’ve been through them all. I haven’t the faintest what it could be-”

“Maybe a Bible,” Suyeon offered. “Or a rosary, or- something. Looking at these ghosts- God, I didn’t have time to research enough-”

“We’re talking religion,” Charlie crowed. “At least that’s something I can help with.”

Lockwood paused. “You’re religious?” he asked.

“It’s so not the time!” James said, still digging through the mountains of stuff in this damn attic, side by side with Angie.

“You’re right,” Lockwood said, and sounds of upheaval continued from his side of the room. “Sorry, Charlie. It just surprised me. You seem…”

“Not religious?” Charlie said. “Fair cop. I’m not exactly practicing, but I was raised Catholic ‘til I started working for you lot.”

“You’re not raised Catholic anymore?”

“Well, my parents died after I started working for you lot, didn’t they?”

“I see,” said Lockwood, quieter.

“Su!” Angie yelled. “Suyeon, what about crucifixes?”

Before Suyeon could say “That’ll do,” Angie had already tossed them into a silver bag. Immediately, seven of the Cold Maidens vanished.

“Nice,” said Lockwood and James in unison. They both looked at each other, and then looked away.

“There’s still two,” Des warned them. Their eyes hadn’t opened. 

Carlyle said, “These two are… different. Weirder. Don’t love it!”

Angie’s Sight wasn’t great. Never had been. Angie never had great Talent, which is why she was on night watch until Lockwood & Co. scooped her up a year back. She wasn’t half bad at night watch, but she didn’t like it very much.

Her Sight wasn’t great, but she could See, and she didn’t like the look of the last two Cold Maidens. They looked… angry. They kept floating in and out of each other. Sometimes it looked like the two were both the same ghost.

“What are we missing ,” James muttered, only loud enough for Angie to hear.

“Oh!” shouted Suyeon. “Oh, I’m thick!”

“What!” called everyone else at the same time.

The room shook a little. Angie looked at the Maidens; they seemed taller now, and darker.

“Temps dropping,” Charlie reported. “Down to ten, now.”

“Who are you?” Carlyle asked. “How can we help you?”

“I’m thick!” said Suyeon again. “This house- it was part of a convent, and the housing spanned a block, these aren’t slighted mothers or wives, they’re all nuns.”

Everyone looked at the Maidens again. If Angie squinted, and turned her head right, she thought maybe she could see a habit resting on their heads.

“Okay, sure,” James said. “But why are these ones still here? We found the Sources!”

“These two are different,” Suyeon said fervently. “There has to be a reason. Something I missed.”

“Clearly,” said Angie. “Sorry, Suyeon.”

“Tell me about it,” said Carlyle, and everyone looked at her. “Tell me. What’s wrong? Why are you upset?”

Lockwood swore under his breath. “I hate when she does this,” he said.

Angie looked at him, surprised. “I hate when Des does it, too,” she told him.

“It’s stupid,” Lockwood agreed. “Usually we can figure out the Source without it, usually we don’t even need it and it’s just an unnecessary risk-”

“Oh,” said Des softly. “They were in love.”

Lockwood swore again. “And sometimes, it gets us the answer we never would have figured out,” he muttered.

They were in love. Of course Suyeon couldn’t find that in her records, even with her perfect memory and encyclopedic knowledge of the archives. These women wouldn’t have put that anywhere. “Wait,” said Angie, and she booked it for one of the boxes.

“Hurry up, Ange,” said Charlie, voice low. “I think the lovers are getting testy.” He drew his rapier again, and put himself beside Des, in case they decided to lash out again.

Angie tore through a box, literally ripping half of the cardboard. “I swear I saw something in here,” she said, mostly to herself. “I think… no, I’m sure it was this one, just…”

“An-gie,” sang Charlie. “They’re getting angry now!”

“Just- a second-”

“Don't touch her!” barked Lockwood, and in a second he was between Lucy, Des, and the Visitors, rapier drawn and flare ready to throw. “Luce, you did it. Both of you. We know what’s happening. Now back away.”

Carlyle’s eyes snapped open. “I’m not an invalid,” she said. “I know perfectly well what I’m doing, Lockwood, in case you’ve forgotten-”

“Of course not-”

“It’s not my fault we got into this situation-”

“It’s not mine either!”

“-with all these- people, and George and Holly and Flo being strange- I’m tired of it! I want to be normal again! I want everything to go back to the way it was!”

“Lucy-”

“I want to go home!” 

“Lucy, duck!” shouted Lockwood, and they both did, Des too, and one of the Maidens shot over both of their heads with her arms outstretched, and then Angie finally found the source—a Bible, with two locks of hair tucked inside the cover—and shoved it into another bag. The room fell silent, and the pressure that had been building up finally popped.

After a moment, Angie sat up again. The Maidens were gone. Lockwood & Co.—ragged as they were—remained, relatively unscathed. When Lockwood and Lucy sat up, they were still teenagers.

“Well,” said James. “I suppose that’s another case well done.”

“We really haven’t improved over the years,” Lockwood observed.

“At least we didn’t burn a house down this time,” Carlyle said.

Everyone trooped back to Portland Row, instead of going home like usual. It didn’t feel like that kind of night. Angie of course would stay in her guest room, and Des in their room. James always got comfortable on the pull-out in the computer room, and Charlie and Suyeon would fight over who got the couch and who got the armchair in the living room.

Lockwood and Carlyle didn’t say much during the drive home. No one did. Angie kept her mouth shut for once in her life. They had technically done a fine job, but it didn’t feel like it, somehow.

After a brief moment in which four of the five agents of Lockwood & Co. tried to fit into the bathroom on the landing, Angie shouted and Charlie swore and James and Suyeon sullenly waited outside. They all brushed their teeth and pissed and cleaned themselves enough for the night. It wasn’t too dirty of a case, this time ‘round. Just cobwebs and dust.

Around three Angie left her room to get water. She heard voices from Lockwood and Carlyle’s room. Because she was a snoop, she avoided the creaky floorboard and put her ear close to the door.

“It’s stupid,” Carlyle was saying. “We’ve been through how much? And some Cold Maidens make me crazy.”

“Not stupid,” Lockwood said. “This is weird. This whole thing is weird.”

“I don’t know how to talk to any of them,” Carlyle admitted. “George and everyone. Let alone the agents.” She sighed. “George keeps calling them the kids but James is older than me.”

“They’re a good lot,” Lockwood said. “I like them.”

Carlyle made a noise. “They’re alright. It’s weird having someone else in my room.”

“What,” asked Lockwood, “three months isn’t long enough before we share permanently?”

There was a scuffle, then a sound Angie assumed was a kiss. She started planning her exit but they kept talking. “It’s strange,” Carlyle said. “To know that- that we’re going stay together forever.”

“At least for the next ten years,” Lockwood said.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t have any other plans,” Carlyle said, “but- it’s all written in stone. It’s going to happen. It’s strange.”

Lockwood hummed. “I think it’s nice to know,” he said. “I dunno. I like knowing that at least we’ve got the next ten years, you know? At least- at least we won’t lose each other before then.”

Carlyle tsked, then they sounded like they were kissing again. Angie took her leave, and not only because she was really starting to get thirsty.

On her way back up though she heard a thunk and a muffled sound from the attic, so she made sure to step on the creaky floorboard this time and went all the way up, with as much sound as she could manage without waking other people up. Des didn’t appreciate surprises. “Can I come in?” she asked, once she was just a few stairs from the top.

For a moment she wondered if she misheard, and if she just woke Des up from a perfectly fine dream. Then Des said “Okay” and she knew she hadn’t.

They were sitting straight up in the center of their bed, sheets and comforter in a twister around them. They stared blankly at Angie as she walked in. By now it was routine: Angie sat beside Des on the bed, leaving enough room for them to have space but not so much they felt unmoored. Not so far they couldn’t reach her if they wanted to.

“It was my Mum,” said Des. “I could hear her again.”

“For real?” Angie asked.

Des shook their head. “Just in the dream. She was in the house from tonight.”

Angie sighed. “Anything new I need to wallop her for?”

“No,” said Des, still not smiling. “Just the same.”

“It’s not real,” Angie said, even though she knew they knew that. “She’s not real. She can’t hurt you, anymore.”

“I know,” said Des.

“I know,” said Angie. “But sometimes I think it’s good to hear it.”

“She did hurt me,” Des reminded her. “A lot of times.”

“Yeah, well,” said Angie, “it doesn’t matter. You’re tougher than she is. Who here has a sick-ass scar and who is fucking dead?”

That got a little smile out of them. “Okay,” they said faintly. 

Angie put her arm out. Des, after a moment, moved in so they sat up against her. Angie gave them a squeeze, and kissed their head. Then she mussed their hair and they tried to wiggle out of her grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Angie said, and she wasn’t apologizing for ruining Des’ already ruined bedhead.

“I know,” said Des. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she asked.

Des shook their head. “I won’t sleep if you do.”

Angie got up and squeezed them again, and planted one more kiss on their head for good measure, then went for the stairs. “I’m serious,” she said on her way out. “If I catch her ghost acting up again, I’ll make sure she suffers more the second time.”

Des smiled. “She suffered enough the first time, I think,” they said. “But thanks.”

Angie planned on making breakfast again in the morning but when she got up at nine, she could already smell bacon, which thrilled her. When she came downstairs George and Flo were in the kitchen, Flo sitting at the table with a slice of toast, while George stood at the stove.

“Am I the first up?” Angie asked.

“No,” said Flo. “Kwon and Sparrow already had tea.”

Angie nodded. “They tell you about the case?”

“A little,” George said. “Nothing crazy. Just that there were nine.”

Angie nodded again. She realized her bonnet was still on, and couldn’t bring herself to care. “Bacon?” she asked.

George handed her a slice. Mornings at 35 Portland Row were mostly monosyllabic.

Ten minutes after Angie started eating breakfast, Des joined them downstairs, and immediately poured themself cereal. 

“Don’t trust George’s cooking, huh,” said Lockwood, swanning into the kitchen with Carlyle trailing behind him. Now this wasn’t unfamiliar for them.

“I trust it,” said Des without turning around. Angie watched Lockwood open his mouth, think about what he could possibly say in response to that in the context of this conversation, and close his mouth again. God, Angie loved Des and their little ways of being. Lockwood and Lucy would remember when they went back to normal that Des only ate cereal on mornings after a nightmare because they couldn’t stand anything else. For now they’ll just have to be confused in silence.

Carlyle cleared her throat. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” Angie replied, mouth full of toast. Des waved again. Charlie, doodling some unseemly character with too-large genitals on the Thinking Cloth, grunted. Suyeon was snoring softly with her head in her arms. James still hadn’t shown face.

Lockwood and Carlyle sat down on the other side of the table. George put plates in front of them immediately. “Damn,” said Lockwood. “Excellent service.”

“Of course,” George said dryly. “Enjoy.”

“You all already ate?” Lockwood asked the table. Everyone nodded, save Des, who went and sat down next to Angie with their bowl. “Good. It is getting late.”

“Not too late for James to be sleeping,” Suyeon said, and Charlie snickered.

“Okay, look,” said Carlyle. “I wanted- we wanted to apologize.”

Everyone paused, and looked up at them. “Apologize?” asked Suyeon.

Lockwood sighed. “We’ve been… out of sorts, lately. I assume this is not how we behave normally and I know how much that can throw off a team.”

Angie said, “It’s not your fault that you got cursed.”

“It kinda sounds like it was,” Carlyle said. “From what you all described, it was our fault.”

“Maybe only Lockwood’s,” Charlie muttered. Suyeon shoved him.

The phone started ringing from the other room. Almost immediately it stopped. Angie looked at Des; they both shrugged.

“Point is,” said Lockwood, “we wanted to apologize. Whatever we can do to help things go smoothly before we- erm- return to normal, we can try. I- ah- feel bad that cases may be going poorly because of us.”

There was a moment of silence, before everyone started laughing.

“Cases going poorly?” Charlie said between gasps. “As if they’ve ever gone better than that!”

“Lockwood, Carlyle,” Angie wheezed, “that’s probably one of the smoothest cases we’ve had in the last two months!”

Des snickered over their cereal, only pausing to cough on the corn flakes twice.

Carlyle was flushed red. “Okay, well,” she said, “we had hoped that with ten years Lockwood & Co. had stopped flying by the seat of our pants-”

“Stupid hope,” George said. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Lockwood said, “God forbid someone hope that their older self actually changed anything for the better.”

“You have ,” Flo said. “Oh, Locky. You changed so much. That doesn’t mean that you’ve changed the things that are important.”

James suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Guys,” he said, harried.

“Good morning,” said Angie.

“They just called,” said James all in a rush. “I didn’t—did you guys know they got a mobile phone? Strange, if you ask me. Phones shouldn’t be able to go just anywhere, don’t you think?—anyway, they’ll be here any minute now-”

“Who, James!” Angie exclaimed, unable to let him yammer on any longer.

James blinked. “Oh! Kipps. And family.”

Right on cue, someone knocked at the door.

George and Flo made eye contact. “Christ,” said George. “Well, I guess we’ll see how this goes.”

“How what goes?” Carlyle asked, while Lockwood sprung up with unexpected energy.

“Let’s go! Kipps ten years older? I need to see this!”

Angie hung back, bringing up the rear like usual. She was tall enough to see over most everyone else’s heads, and it’s not like she’s never met the Kipps before. Quill Kipps, the former Fittes Agent who worked with Lockwood & Co., his wife Shreya, and of course-

“Holy shit,” said Quill Kipps.

“Holy shit,” said Carlyle.

“Holy shit,” said Lockwood.

Annie, the baby in Shreya Kipps’ arms, let out a happy cry and tried to squirm towards Lockwood and Carlyle.

“Kipps had a baby?” Lockwood asked faintly.

George said, “This is what I was afraid of.”

“Hang on,” said Flo. “Is it just me, or is the room going a bit strange?”

Before Angie could say anything- before she could see anything- everything went white. A few seconds later, everything was back, except now-

“Fittes did call it a commotion,” said George, thoughtfully.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” said Charlie, mouth open.

“Hey,” said Carlyle, fully grown again. Lockwood, next to her, was looking around the room, baffled. “Language.”

“Angie,” said Carlyle. “What’s got your face looking like that?”

Everything had settled. The Kipps came and went; baby Annie is less than a year old and still takes very regimented naps so they didn’t stay too long. Apparently the fuss of two people rapidly growing ten years isn’t a fun experience for a baby, either. Angie was sitting in the living room with a sketchbook, now, trying to draw instead of going crazy.

“It’s just- it was so strange,” Angie said. “Sorry. Not that you guys were strange.”

Carlyle shook her head. “I’m sure we were,” she said. “January 2011? Not the best time for us. It was winter, right after Fittes fell. Everything was a disaster.”

“I dunno,” Angie said. “It was like- you guys are different, now. You act different.”

“I sure hope so,” said Carlyle gently.

“Even that!” Angie exclaimed. “You’re not-” she huffed. “I think it’s just- I don’t like to think of you as my age,” Angie admitted. “It’s strange. It’s weird.”

Carlyle hummed. Actually sat down beside her, instead of hovering in the doorway. “I used to draw,” she said. “Still do, actually, when I have time.”

Angie closed her sketchbook reflexively. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Carlyle looked around the living room. “This place has changed so much since I started working here. You know, there used to be just- real Sources on the walls. Behind glass and secured, sure, but- just there.”

“Why?” asked Angie, confused by every part of this conversation.

“Lockwood’s parents,” Carlyle said. “They were researchers around the world. They came back with loads of stuff, and for years we had no idea what they were, or what they did. The Lockwoods had just left everything out. We didn’t know until- well, we needed a lot of Sources to cross to the Other Side. We just threw all of them in and hoped some of them would work.”

“Did they?”

Carlyle nodded. “Like a charm.”

Angie thought for a moment. “Do you remember what happened when you were- young?”

“Most of it,” said Carlyle. “It’s a bit- hazy. I remember events, but not really what I was thinking about during them. It’s strange.”

“This whole thing was strange,” Angie said again.

“I know.” Carlyle looked at her. “You think everyone’s doing okay?”

Angie made a face. “Why are you asking me?”

“You’re our rock, Angie,” said Carlyle, completely serious despite sounding like she’s talking from an inspirational advertisement. “You always know what’s going on. Don’t think I don’t notice things. You work for me.”

Angie said, “I take it back. You and Lockwood are still weird.”

“You’ll let us know if anyone is having a rough time of it, though,” Carlyle said, still serious. “I mean it. This whole situation was bizarre, and I want to make sure no one is upset or confused. Des, especially. You know how they get.”

Angie did know. “I’m glad you’re back,” she said, a little embarrassed by how true the statement was.

Carlyle gave her a rare smile. “We are, too,” she said. She squeezed Angie’s hand, quickly. “We’ll be around. Let us know before four if you’re going to stay the night again, so we can put your clothes in the laundry, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Angie said, and Carlyle got up.

On the way out, Carlyle said, “Your art is good. If you ever want help getting materials, let me know.” Before Angie could say anything in reply, she was gone.

Angie was right. They were still strange, even now. She liked them better this way, though. George had taken the artefact out of the house, and no one would have to deal with it again. Angie had her bosses back for good.

Now she just had to figure out how to get James to stop acting so strangely around her. Charlie kept making jokes, but surely… no. It was Charlie. There was no way James felt- no, not at all.

Maybe another artefact got to James, this time. Angie would figure it out.