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Safety
Lucy thought she would ever get this feeling again.
When she worked at Jacobs (when she had Norrie), Lucy trusted her team. It took time, building their teamwork and her confidence. But she had three years, and they weren’t spent in vain. Even though she was terrified half the time they went out on their cases, Norrie was always ready with encouragement. Paul would send her that small, secretive smile that seemed reserved for her; Alfie-Joe would crack a joke, and Joy would squeeze her in the best hug in the universe.
And she felt… safe.
Until Jacobs threw out her intuition, and she lost everything she had ever held dear.
When Lucy came to London, she wasn’t looking for love and comfort. She was looking for a team, a job. Fittes and Rotwell wouldn't give her a second look, so she had to try elsewhere. Lucy wasn’t really expecting a great result by the time George opened the door, but she knew her Talents, and she didn’t have another choice.
And then Lockwood offered her a job and a room. He offered a place at his table, and Lucy could feel herself falling into his kindness quite easily. George was harder to crack, between the jabs and quips, but she shared a little piece of herself, and found he was eager to share in turn.
They battled ghosts and human monsters alike; they grew closer in the quiet. Tea preferences were learned and memorized; Lucy found that George preferred to be left alone after a hard case, while Lockwood needed the fire and a hand holding his. The boys noticed when she was withdrawn and piled her in blankets and stories.
And as time passed, Lucy realized she had found it again, that elusive thing she had with her team back home.
A home; love and respect. Trust.
Safety.
Hope
As Lucy settles into his shoulder, head lolling in dreamless sleep, Lockwood thinks, This is what hope feels like.
The three inhabitants of 35 Portland Row are in the library after a job well done. The ghost was fairly easy to handle, and they had worked seamlessly together (which didn’t always happen), so Lockwood basked in the satisfaction of a Visitor defeated.
George lets out a soft snore, and he looks over to see his researcher slumped in his chair, comic book over his face. Lockwood smiles softly at the sight.
He realizes how lovely all this is, how domestic a tableau they make. Friends—no, family, because that’s truly what they are now—together, comfortable enough to let their guards down and sleep. Taking comfort in just being near each other.
And he wants it forever.
Lockwood didn’t think he was capable of wanting this, after his parents and Jessica. He had kept Flo at an arm’s length, not let anyone get too close for fear of losing them.
And that fear isn’t completely gone, of course. He still worries about George and Lucy, and he doesn’t think he’s stopping anytime soon. But he also isn’t shutting down the happiness he gets when George unlocks a key piece of information to crack a case, or Lucy cracks a door in half with sheer force.
He wants more of these calm nights. More of George’s teasing and Lucy’s mouth quirking in laughter and her slumping against him when she’s too tired to stand. He wants George to make all the recipes in his mother’s cookbook, and he wants to try every single dish. He wants….
He wants to live.
Hope is alive within him. A fragile little thing, a flame to be kept burning.
But it is there, and Lockwood isn’t letting it gutter out.
Earnestness
One of the things Lucy likes most about George is his honesty. Sometimes she absolutely hates it, though.
“You’re being deliberately thick, Luce.”
“And you’re being a massive asshole, George,” she snaps back. “I asked for a few minutes of silence, and you can’t even manage that!”
George just stares her down. “You know I’m right. I’m not discounting your Talent, but the Visitors can lie, we know this. The research points to the church, not the house.”
She wishes Lockwood were here to back her up, but he’s out on a smaller case and not with them. George grabs her hand to stop her from storming off, and that’s how she knows he’s serious. And even though she’s mad at her friend right now, she doesn’t shake him off.
“Lucy, I promise, this isn’t a joke or a game, or any kind of dig against you. This is a potential type two that has a history of targeting both girls and Listeners. It’s just us, which means you have to trust that I know what I’m saying. Lockwood would back me up, and you know it. You can’t do it alone. Let me do my job, and help you.”
Lucy sighs, long and loud. “Damn you, Georgie, for being too earnest.”
He lets go and shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “I know what I’m about, and I know what you’re about too. I’m not gonna waste your Talents out here. I’m not bloody Fittes.” George rolls his eyes. “Plus, Lockwood will gut me if I let one little hair on your head come to harm, now that he’s your boyfriend and all.”
“You can take that teasing and shove it up your ass,” Lucy says, mostly joking as she shoves past George. Her feet take her towards the church, because while her gut may say one thing, she’s discounted George’s research and intuition before and it never turns out good.
Perhaps it pays to have a friend who can’t keep his mouth shut after all.
Learning
“You know, smashing is much easier,” Lucy groans from the floor.
Lockwood laughs and extends a hand to help her up. “But it’s not nearly as graceful or good-looking.”
Lucy grabs his hand, heaving herself back up. She backs up and extends her rapier. “You know you’re the only one who cares about looking good while taking down Visitors.”
Her friend (something more? they’re teetering on the brink of something and Lucy doesn’t quite know what to name it yet) simply shrugs. “Luce, what’s the point of training for years on end if you don’t get to use your skills every once in a while?” Before she can retort he gestures with his free hand. “Now, let’s see that stance more time.”
Lucy gets into position, and Lockwood nods approvingly. She accordingly ignores the flutter in her chest at his smile.
“En garde!”
They spar for a few minutes, Lockwood holding back less than he would have a few months ago. Lucy ends up on the floor again, Lockwood having disarmed her with a special twisting move he’s used twice now.
“You’ve got to teach me that one,” Lucy says. “Next time the Golden Blade comes after us, I want to be ready.” She’s not annoyed by her lack of skill, exactly—but she knows it’s worth practicing. George is a crack shot with the iron chains, and she can wack and jab with heavy objects easily, but Lockwood’s expertise is the rapier, and Lucy wants to be able to hold her own in a real fight.
Plus, there are some moves that prove useful against Visitors too. She doesn’t want to discount all of Lockwood’s ego.
Lockwood turns serious and says, “You are ready, Luce. You saved me twice against him, and you’ll do it again if needed.”
She nods. “Yes, but learning more is important too. I want to improve my skills, better my technique.”
Then he smirks, and she almost rolls her eyes before he’s even said the words. “And I’m the best one to teach you, right? That’s how you were going to finish that?”
Lucy gives him a shove and readies her stance again. “You want to talk all day, or are we going to spar?”
Laughter
George hasn’t laughed like this in ages. Hell, perhaps even ever.
Lockwood and Lucy are also in the throes of giggles, and Holly is shaking her head at them, grin splitting her face. Kipps is dancing around, trying to show them something , but none of them are even close to guessing what he’s trying to say.
“You guys!” Kipps complains, lowering his arms. “You’re not trying!”
Lucy snorts and wheezes out, “What the bloody hell are we supposed to get from that?”
Kipps rolls his eyes. “It’s charades, you nitwit. I’m acting it out!”
“Acting like a deranged racoon caught red handed, maybe.”
“Shut up, Tony.”
The timer beeps in George’s hands, and he shrugs. “Well, Kipps loses. Big surprise there.”
Kipps throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “We’re not even keeping score, you toad.”
“You aren’t,” Holly says, “But we all know Lockwood and Lucy can’t help themselves. And I think Lucy is winning.”
George nods and then slaps his hand over his eyes. “Not in the living room!” he groans. “I’ve had to bleach my eyes twice already this week, and they won’t be able to stand a third washing.”
“She’s throwing a middle finger at you, George.”
“Thanks, Holly, I could have guessed that.” He reaches behind him for the pillow he knows he moved earlier in the evening (before the drinks and games had truly started), and throws it blindly. There’s a small thump as it lands.
“Karim!”
“Oops. Not sorry, Kipps.”
Holly laughs again. “Now Kipps is giving you the finger too.”
“Also could have guessed that,” George says. He finally opens his eyes and sees the whole team looking at him expectantly. Lucy and Lockwood are holding hands, but thankfully aren’t sucking faces.
“Why are you staring?”
“It’s your turn, mate,” Lockwood says, and holds out the bowl of paper scraps. George takes one, reads it, and swears loudly.
Kipps smirks. “Ha, looks like I won’t be the only one looking like a fool.”
And George suddenly finds he doesn’t care one bit about looking like a fool. If it brings a smile to Holly’s face, if his antics can make Lucy giggle so hard she snorts and Lockwood laugh so loud he will complain about his jaw hurting the next day—George will act his heart out in this game. It’s worth it, to him.
They’re worth it.
Youthful
Sometimes it’s hard to remember that they’re kids.
Lucy is hardened by her past, by the trauma of seeing the deaths of her former teammates reflected in her job. George keeps his head close to his books, unless he’s poking into corners he’s not supposed to be in. Lockwood is worst of all, playing dress up to look the part of an agency head, the man of the hour.
Holly knows she’s been through a lot too. Her team, her friends , gone before her eyes. Sometimes she still sees them in her dreams, the nightmares changing them into Visitors before her very eyes.
But she is older, and wiser than the rest of her team, and therefore less prone to silly outbursts like the one she walks into one morning.
35 Portland Row is covered, floor to ceiling, in blankets and pillows.
“What is going on?” she can’t help but ask out loud. They have a client meeting scheduled for this afternoon and a few cases tonight. They don’t have time for foolish nonsense like—
“Blanket fort!” crows Lockwood from somewhere within the recesses of the house. “Except even better than I could have imagined, because George did manage to pick up a thing or two from his engineer siblings.”
George’s voice is also muffled by the fabric around him when he answers, “It’s more from lack of experience that you didn’t know how to set up a solid foundation here, Lockwood. First rule of thumb is to flip the couch, everyone knows that.”
Holly has to hold back a smile, attempting to keep a professional facade. “And the reason for this blanket fort is… what exactly?”
Lucy emerges from the darkness, startling Holly. She can see the other girl’s smug expression when Holly jumps. “Fun, Holly. Haven’t you ever heard of it?”
“Ah yes,” Holly says dryly. “I believe I’m acquainted with the term.” She’s acting, of course, because even though she and Lucy have made up for what happened in Aickmere’s, they still don’t see eye-to-eye on many things. Plus, it’s sometimes quite enjoyable to rile her up. Lucy tends to get more snippy with both boys, which helps keep them in line when needed.
Holly is nothing if not a strategist at heart.
Lockwood and George stumble out of the mass of blankets, looking tired but more alive than she’s seen them look in days. They’ve all been working hard lately, taking on more and more cases, but Holly’s been trying to make sure the company isn’t overworked.
Her boss waves a hand dismissively. “Cancel our plans for the day, Hol, and come join us! George has got some breakfast already cooked up, and we’ve a mind to watch more of the movies Lucy missed out on growing up. Do you have a favorite from when you were little?”
George, never one to miss a quip, jumps in. “I bet it was Snow White. A true classic, clean cut and organized.”
Holly’s a bit out of her element when it comes to the three of them bouncing back and forth sometimes, but she also knows that Lockwood doesn’t slow down very often. She needs to take the chance while she still can.
“Cinderella,” she corrects. “Come now, it’s every girl’s dream to wear a ball gown like hers.”
There’s a grumble behind her from Lucy, who is probably disagreeing heartily with her statement, but she doesn’t care. Holly sets her bag down and says, “Let me call our clients and I will be in shortly. Have you started some tea?”
Lockwood nods and claps his hands. “Excellent, yes Hol, we’ll get a cuppa for you. Luce, you can pick the movie next, as we’ve already watched Cinderella last week.” And with that, the three of her teammates disappear back into the blankets.
Holly smiles fully now, letting their joy seep into her. “A blanket fort,” she muses. “If only Park could see this. She would have loved it.”
But Park isn’t here, so Holly will just have to enjoy it herself. They are her team, after all. They deserve a chance to just be silly teenagers watching children’s movies and eating all the junk food and biscuits they want. (Well, Holly won’t eat them, but she knows those three idiots will.)
So she picks up the phone and cancels their appointments, and crouches down to enter the childish kingdom of Lockwood & Co.