Chapter Text
Lockwood was in the kitchen when he heard the front door open and close. Looking at the clock Holly had insisted on hanging, he judged it to be Lucy, back from her latest therapy session. Hopefully this one had gone better than the previous ones. True, the last three hadn’t made her come home in tears, but she’d been frustrated and disgruntled after them anyway. The first one had made her retreat into the basement until she’d worked off her anger, and after hearing about the way the man had essentially hit on her instead of helping her, Lockwood couldn’t blame her.
Not that Lucy wasn’t pretty enough to be hit on, but it wasn’t a gentlemanly thing to do, and he especially didn’t like how that would have created an unhealthy power imbalance. There were still times Lockwood wondered whether or not he had created an unhealthy power imbalance between them, just by the fact that Lucy still worked for him and lived in his house. Not that he’d ever tried to use his position as agency head or landlord to force Lucy into doing anything.
Well, there had been that time after the Wintergarden case, when he’d essentially threatened to leave her home if she wouldn’t stop talking to ghosts instead of fighting them… but the way that had turned out was more than enough proof for him that trying to enforce his will on someone he fancied was a recipe for disaster.
But hopefully this session- with a new doctor, if he remembered correctly- had gone much better. He’d been worried when Lucy kept going to new therapists without, in his mind, giving them a fair trial, but Kipps had told him the same thing he’d told Lucy. Apparently, it was important to find a therapist whose style didn’t make you want to go out and drown yourself- something to remember as Lockwood slowly built up to actually finding one for himself.
Meanwhile, Lockwood popped bread in the toaster and put the kettle on. Lucy would no doubt want a nice cuppa, and toast was comfort food. Or so he’d been told- it always seemed to work for Lucy, anyway.
Not a minute after the kettle was almost boiling, Lucy entered the kitchen and came straight over to pull him into a tight hug.
“Hm!” he said appreciatively as he wrapped his arms around her. “Does this mean it was a good session, or a bad session? Whichever it is, I think you should have another one if this is the reaction I get when you come back from it.”
Lucy snorted into his chest, and he relaxed the slightest bit.
“You know, you and George and Holly… you’re my family. You know that, right?” She just about mumbled into his shoulder.
Lockwood huffed a laugh. “Yes, Lucy. Don’t worry, we know. You say it anytime you get a bit too tired after a case, or have a beer too many.”
“Okay,” was all she said. “As long as you know.”
George wandered in with a pile of papers in one hand, and an empty glass in the other just as the toast popped. Lucy let go of Lockwood so he could attend to it, but only so she could latch on to George instead.
“Er, hi Lucy,” George said, now effectively trapped near the sink.
“Georgie, you don’t mind having another sister do you?” Lucy asked.
Lockwood laughed as he buttered her toast.
“Did the new therapist offer you anything to drink, Luce? Because she might have put something in your tea,” George said, obviously trying to decide how to fill his glass without either putting his precious papers down, or risking getting them wet.
Lucy just snorted again and let him go. “Put your silly papers down and get your water, George. And no, I haven’t been drugged. I just realized something, is all.”
“I take it the session was a good one, then?” Lockwood confirmed.
“My papers, I’ll have you know,” George interrupted, following instructions. “Are anything but silly. The information that will keep us all alive tonight is found in papers just like these.”
“But not those papers, specifically?” Lockwood asked, giving in to the inevitable.
“Unfortunately, no,” George said. “I did find a fascinating theory on-”
Lockwood listened to George going off on another tangent while Lucy sat down and he put her toast and tea in front of her. She smiled at him, and they both glanced at George, who had his back turned rummaging in the fridge for a yogurt, before stealing a kiss. Lockwood was just sitting down like nothing had happened when George suddenly whirled around and pointed a yogurt cup at them accusingly.
“I saw that!”
“What?” Lockwood asked, while Lucy maintained a fantastically innocent expression.
“Lockwood’s been buttering my toast for ages, George,” she said, picking up a slice. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before. You usually pay so much attention to details.”
George glowered at them, and grumbled under his breath while Lockwood manfully suppressed a smile. George dug a spoon out of the drawer and sat down at the table with them.
“So, it was a good session for you, Lucy?” he asked, echoing Lockwood.
“It was. I like this one- the doctor, I mean,” Lucy said, holding her mug and studying the swirl of cream. “She listened. I mean, she did end up telling me what I was thinking which was sort of annoying- but she was right, so I didn’t complain. It was… helpful.”
Lockwood and George exchanged a glance.
“Helpful?” Lockwood asked, infusing a wealth of questions into one word.
“Yep- enough that I think I can go on the case with you and George,” Lucy said. “Holly could use a night off, and I could use a night dealing with something a bit more exciting than a Tom-o-shadows.”
Lockwood’s anxieties- always close to the surface when it came to Lucy- surged up. “Are you sure?”
Lucy smiled, in a way she hadn’t quite managed ever since Lady Bridgerton showed up at their house for the second time… and Lockwood felt a ray of hope.
“I’m not saying it’s all fixed yet,” she temporized. “But she helped me find a way to think about things so that I don’t immediately burst into tears about it.”
“Good,” George proclaimed. “Next time, see if she can advise you on how to stop giving Lockwood those nauseating looks.”
“Ha!” Lucy scoffed. “As if you don’t look at Flo the same way!”
“Flo and I are responsible, mature, adults , and we keep our displays of affection to acceptable levels when in company.”
“By which you mean you fight like cats and dogs around us,” Lockwood stated. “I think I prefer mine and Lucy’s arrangement. Besides, you’ve only just turned eighteen, and you still have your Talents.”
“Can you really be considered an adult if you still have Talent?” Lucy mused, backing him up. “After all, everyone knows that adults don’t have any Talent.”
“Hey! There are documented cases of people retaining their Talents into the late twenties!” George protested. “And then there was Marissa Fittes, who… er,” he trailed off, looking suddenly sheepish. “That’s a bad example. She was extending her Talent artificially, so really, her case should be thrown out of the sample.”
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “I agree, but for entirely different reasons. Please don’t ever compare me to Marissa Fittes again.”
“You? What about me?” Lucy also complained. “I’m the Listener here… and to be honest, I’ve been thinking lately how I’d handle it if… well, if my Talent just never faded.”
Lockwood and George both looked at her, and she took a hurried bite of toast. “I mean, it’s possible, right? We know that journeying to the Other Side is at least part of what strengthened Marissa’s Talent. Consuming the ectoplasm probably helped, but… well, the skull always said the strength of my Talent is what drew ghosts to me, and that we all had, technically, died while over on the Other Side. Maybe ‘dying,’” she said, making the air-quotes, “extends the life of your Talent because you’ve, I don’t know, already sort of crossed over into their realm?”
“Like, forging a connection with death, you mean? Like a possession, but… for yourself?” George asked, frowning as he thought his way through Lucy’s logic.
Lucy shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. It’s probably stupid, though. I’m sure my Talents- all of our Talents- will fade just like everyone else’s.”
“Well, that’s one thing I’m not going to be stuck thinking on,” Lockwood lied.
One of his secret fears had always been becoming irrelevant as soon as his Sight went. He didn’t think he had it in him to hire Talented youngsters and guide them through hauntings he couldn’t sense, and he wasn’t about to ask any of the others to do it, either.
They had those goggles that Kipps used, and UPRA had taken charge of the stores of personal visitor defenses and detectors that Fittes and the Orpheus Society had produced, so he could probably obtain a pair for himself, but… well, Lockwood wasn’t sure he could handle needing them. It would be a constant reminder that he could no longer do on his own what had once been so natural that it took effort not to see death-glows everywhere.
Not only that, but there currently wasn’t an equivalent of the goggles for the psychic senses of Touch or Listening, so that meant he’d have to go out without George or Lucy. Holly could possibly be convinced to try the goggles, but Lockwood had a hard time imagining that. Holly had always been the employee least likely to miss her Talent in any way, however far she’d come in re-engaging with it under his leadership.
George probably was second, always tending to view his research as his most valuable contribution. Research was something that didn’t require any Talent, and he’d always been more interested in the Problem itself than in actually fighting visitors, so he would probably make the transition fairly easily.
Lucy, though… Lucy was like him. In the years she’d been with Lockwood and Co. she’d come to view herself as her Talent, largely because being able to talk with the skull was so useful (at times) and unique. And he knew her ‘adoptive’ family had always emphasized the importance of her Talent, so it was no wonder she identified so strongly with it.
In a way it was comforting to think that their various trips to the Other Side might extend the time they had before their Talents faded completely, but inside Lockwood knew it wasn’t a healthy way to cope. It wasn’t really a way to ‘cope’ at all, just a way to avoid facing the inevitable. If he was honest, he might admit it was possible he had too much experience with that particular ‘coping’ technique.
He himself, well… He’d made it his goal to eradicate every ghost- or at least every source- he came across since he was nine years old. For the longest time he’d taken comfort from the thought that he probably wouldn’t survive until his Sight faded, because then he’d never have to face a lifetime of being utterly useless against the dead.
Now, though… now the Problem was fading, and he had a future with Lucy to look forward to, and yet… he still couldn’t really entertain the thought of any future that didn’t include fighting visitors on a nightly basis. He had a few ideas he’d been thinking about, but nothing that he thought would give half as much satisfaction as vanquishing ghosts.
But they- he- had time. Lockwood was sure he would figure things out if just given enough time- that’s how it had always gone before.
In the hall the phone rang, and Lockwood got up since Lucy and George were still trading theories about what exact effects traveling to the Other Side might have on the Talented.
“You’ve reached Lockwood and Co., Anthony Lockwood speaking,” he said, after finding the right button to actually answer the phone. The new model had its perks- it even had an answerphone in the base, which was very convenient- but it was taking him a while not to automatically reach for a button that was in the wrong place. “How can we assist with your visitor?”
“I’m thankful to say there haven’t been any more issues with visitors,” the voice on the other end- male, slightly familiar- answered. “This is Lord Bridgerton, by the way, and I’m glad you’re the one who answered the phone.”
“Lord Bridgerton,” Lockwood said, after an embarrassing blank moment. “If this isn’t about a visitor… I’m not sure how we can help you?”
“I’ve been reading up on your agency,” Lord Bridgerton said, “and I must say, I’ve been impressed. I was wondering if you’d agree to a meeting to talk about your future business.”
“My future business?” Lockwood asked, bemused.
“Yes, what you’re planning to do when your Talent fades. I have an opening on Thursday at four- or, no, that would likely be too late for you, wouldn’t it? If you have a case scheduled you’d likely be leaving about then. Er… what do you say to the next Tuesday at ten o’clock. Would that be too early?”
Lockwood gaped, his mind racing. “Well… Naturally, I have thought about my options after, but… I suppose a meeting couldn’t hurt. Thank you for the opportunity. And Tuesday at ten is fine, it’s not too early. Actually, these days it’s a rare case that keeps us out after two am. Where would you like to meet?”
“Excellent. I have you on my schedule now- you can come to my townhouse.”
Lockwood wrote the address down on the notepad by the phone base. “Very good. Er… do you want all of us to come?”
It might be awkward to bring George and Lucy, considering the possibility of Lucy’s real family being the Bridgertons. He had no idea whether Lord Bridgerton knew of that, or approved, or didn’t.
“Just you for now,” Lord Bridgerton said. “You are the head of the agency, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Well then. See you on Tuesday, Mr. Lockwood.”
“Yes. And again, thank you.”
Lockwood hung up the phone, feeling like the floor had suddenly gone wobbly under him. He vividly remembered feeling exactly like this the day after Sheen Road, when Barnes had called only to order him to fire Lucy.
Somehow, even though Lord Bridgerton hadn’t mentioned her, Lockwood couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about her, too. He would have to wait and see whether that was a good thing, or a bad thing- and be prepared for either possibility.
—
Lucy had been toying with the thought of calling up Lady Bridgerton and agreeing to the DNA test- might as well get it over with, was her thought- but after Lockwood told them about the meeting with Lord Bridgerton, she decided to hold off.
Lockwood was right- there was something odd about it.
Of course, it could just be that this was the way things worked sometimes. A service was rendered, a powerful connection made, and boom: suddenly, opportunities sprang up out of thin air. It only happened to the lucky and the few, but Lockwood and Co. were both lucky and few in number, so she supposed they qualified. In fact, it was probably something exactly like this that the Lockwood of four years ago had been angling for when he tried to insist that they were ‘mansion specialists.’
Either way, Lucy decided to put her family status out of her mind, at least until after the case.
The case which, as it turned out, went very well.
Lucy was clear-headed enough to resist the attempted ghost-lock, and though it was a dark spectre, which was always tricky, she was able to hear enough to pinpoint the source for George while she and Lockwood kept the visitor busy. It did take longer than normal because it was a dark spectre, though, so they didn’t get to drop into bed until nearly four a.m. and Lucy had no intention to get up before ten.
Of course, just because she decided to put the DNA test on hold, that didn’t mean the Bridgertons felt the same way. George brought the phone up to the attic at eight o’clock the next morning, sans trousers, and grumbling loudly about irritating relatives.
Lucy took the phone and immediately fell back into her comfortable nest of duvet and pillows. “Hello?” she said, voice still fuzzy with sleep.
“Lucy Carlyle?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice asked.
“Uh huh,” she said, wondering if this person had called without knowing who she was looking for, or whether she’d just opened the phone book to the ‘C’s and started calling every Carlyle in it.
“It’s Daphne,” the lady said. “Er, Duchess Hastings, I guess. I don’t know if I told you my first name the other week.”
“Oh. Okay,” Lucy sighed, rolled over, then rolled over again to avoid lying on the handset.
“Are you still there?” the Duchess asked after a moment, jolting Lucy back to waking.
“Um, yeah,” Lucy said. “Sorry, what can I do for you?”
“... is this too early? I wasn’t quite sure…”
“No, it’s fine,” Lucy said, giving in and levering herself into sitting up against her headboard. “Please go on.”
“Right. Well… I looked into your… situation. Actually, my husband's lawyers did, and… well, they’re advising us to go ahead with the DNA test.”
Lucy’s heart sank. “Right.”
“So,” the duchess said, drawing it out. “I suppose I’m asking if you would be willing to do that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” It came out a lot easier than Lucy had expected it to. She didn’t even feel that opposed to the idea- wow, that Dr. Graham really had helped!
“Oh! Really?” The Duchess sounded surprised. “You didn’t seem too keen on the idea earlier.”
“No,” Lucy admitted. “But there’s only one way to know for sure, right? And even if I am this Francesca,” she continued, feeling her tongue start to freeze up again, but powering through, “then, well… I mean, it’s not like we have to go from practical strangers to being all lovey-dovey sisters, right? There should be time to get used to it, right? For everyone.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” the Duchess said. “It has been over a decade.”
“Uh huh,” Lucy agreed, yawning. “So, when do you want to do this?”
“Well, ideally there would be samples from more than one person in our family, so I’ll have to consult- but I wanted to make sure that you would agree before bringing it up to them.”
“... You still haven’t told them about this, have you?” Lucy asked, seeing right through that.
“Well… no. It’s a difficult subject,” the Duchess said defensively.
“Yep,” Lucy agreed. “Okay, well let me know when and how you want to do this. I mean, I guess the samples would be taken at a hospital…”
“Actually, they can be taken anywhere,” the Duchess said, surprising her. “It’s just a cotton swab that they swipe on the inside of your cheek, and then put in a sterile container to be tested. Previously, we did that at my brother’s townhouse… but you might not feel comfortable there. We could probably do it in a clinic or something- I can arrange that if you’d prefer. But we would want all the samples to be taken at the same time so they can be sent off together- to avoid any possibility of tampering, you understand.”
“That’s fine, and yes, I’d like to do it at a clinic instead,” Lucy said, too tired to be offended by the suggestion that she- or someone else- might try to fix the test results with a false sample. “Just call me when it’s all arranged and I’ll be there.”
“Good. Thank you, Lucy,” the Duchess said, sounding like she actually meant it.
Lucy didn’t know how to feel about that and it was far too early to start figuring it out now. She needed tea first. Tea, and some breakfast.
“Right,” she said again. “Just let me know.”
And then, since it was far too early to actually get up, she hung up the phone and rolled over to get a little more sleep.