The battle was over. The war was won. And, now, the Problem was finally at its end.

To celebrate, all of London's ghost-hunters and Night Watch members were invited to a grand banquet in honor of their victory. All of the agencies involved were invited although that isn't really saying much since all of the ghost-hunting agencies participated in our final night. The banquet was intended to honor our win against the supernatural, to congratulate each and every living member for their survival while acting as a final pardon to the dead. Funerals would come later, as everyone well knew, but I had no doubt that Fittes Agency - which had the honor of upholding the banquet - would also honor its fallen leader at the end of the festivities.

Not that I cared. Penelope Fittes, former leader of the Fittes Agency, was better dead than alive. If not for her and her ancestors, the whole catastrophe of the Problem would have been avoided. Of course, Penelope wasn't really to blame for the start of the Problem but, more like, she was to be blamed for the furthering of it. Penelope's reckless investigations into the world of the dead had lost the lives of many of my colleagues. Holly, Kat, even Investigator Barnes...they all perished due to her obsession for the truth. Still, she was Fittes Agency's prized leader and, despite the knowledge that many who had participated in our final battle despised her, we were here to honor her death.

Which, in a way, was pretty ironic considering the fact that we had just so many of the dead forcibly back to their graves and yet here we were, celebrating all our worries away. It made me a little bitter just to think about that. It was one thing to hold a vigil for the fallen dead but it was another to just treat them as little more than deadly pests. The ghosts had been people too, once upon a time, and their appearance in our world was only due to their appetite for justice. Not that anyone cared. The adults were drunk on wine, glasses in hands and red dusting their bubbly faces. They were giggling gleefully, idly mentioning how glad they were now that the stupid ghosts were gone or how they could finally stop paying idiotic little kids their precious money. The children from both the Night-Watch and the agencies, however, frolicked with dark burdens on their shoulders, finding happiness in the fact that they were alive, that they had survived another nightmare - the nightmare of all nightmares. Yet, not one of them took the opportunity to rightfully appreciate the lives that had passed on - both in the past and in the present.

I, however, took the banquet as an opportunity to watch and to listen, to pretend that I hadn't been a crucial part in solving the Problem and that I had only been one of the many participants in humanity's final hour. I had only partaken in this event because Quill insisted I do so. Normally, I would wave him off like I had in the past. But, there was a grudging respect that we held between us and he had saved my life before (though on many grudging occasions) so I figured I owed him one.

Many of the guests at hand, I observed, had ditched their agency attire for a mix-match of formal and informal clothing. One boy I saw was dressed in a fancy suit while another was placed in only a cotton shirt and jean shorts. A few girls my age wore dresses and a few others did not, tucking hands into hoodie pockets or scuffing boots against the cement flooring of the Fittes Courtyard. Everything seemed almost like normal. Like ghosts had never haunted our lives or that the supernatural had never raised the undead into the world of the living. There were a few exceptions here and there - I saw rapiers tucked carefully into the belts of many strangers as well as the occasional salt bomb in someone's pocket - but, for the most part, things were ordinary. No ghosts, no assassins, no nothing. Just a cheerful banquet and a handful people celebrating the end of a war together. Even I had taken the opportunity to fix my usual looks, putting on a light gray jacket, a faint red shirt, and some ankle-high jeans. A necklace was tucked beneath my shirt, barely noticeable but one of my favorite mementos nonetheless.

I took a sip of my juice, savoring the sweet taste of apple cider. I gazed around, lips pursed and eyes narrowed as I picked out a handful of people that I knew. Quill Kipps, who I had mentioned previously as a sort-of rival, was off talking to Bobby Vernon and some other girl I didn't recognize. He spoke in a quick voice, one too far away for me to catch but with a tone full of authority. It seemed he was taking his role as the replacement leader for the Fittes Agency well but I wondered whether or not he actually enjoyed the role he'd once sought. He seemed like the type that would crave power, of course, but by looking at the way his face curled up in frustration, I wondered if he truly relished it now.

"Lucy?"

A voice caught my sudden attention. It was low and familiar but the tone the person used was unsure, hesitant. I raised an eyebrow, turning my head to face the leader and my former employer of Lockwood & Co.

"Lockwood," I greeted as calmly as I could. "How are you?"

"Good, good," the boy said a bit hurriedly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his black trench coat. His agency's emblem was attached to his breast pocket while a white shirt sat underneath his coat followed by denim jeans. His rapier was still in his belt and I could see the hint of a magnesium flare under his coat. "How are you, Luce? It's been a couple of days, hasn't it?"

"Two days, actually," I smiled. "In fact, the last time I saw you you were fussing over your hair after we defeated that Type Three."

"My hair did need fixing, didn't it?" he laughed, running a hand through his dark locks with a thoughtful look.

"Only if you wanted to look vain."

"Which I am," he grinned.

I pushed myself off the wall, looking back into the crowd. Lockwood copied the action, his gaze clouding over as he watched a pair of siblings run away from their scolding parents. Absently, I wondered if he was remembering his own family. "It's been awhile," I murmured after our brief pause, memories of my own plaguing my mind, "but, yet, I don't think I can get over what happened quite yet."

"Over what? The Fetch? Or the event with the Skull?" Lockwood's voice took on a more saddened tone. "Lucy, I know what you're thinking. Don't deny it. You're still feeling guilty about nearly killing me, aren't you? You don't have to apologize, I understand. That ghost possessed you, you couldn't have...look, Luce, I'm still alive, right? Isn't that enough?"

I bit my lip and I felt my eyes prick with unwanted tears. "Yes, you're alive, but just barely, Lockwood. You cracked your head open, Lockwood. You almost died back there too, in the final battle. To think that they were that close to killing you, and because of me too...I just, I don't know. It's hard, okay? It's hard knowing that I not only came close to killing you but that I also led to the death of Kat, of Barnes and...and even Holly. It's just, unfair, you know? That we get to leave that hellhole alive and that they don't. That we get to be all happy and joyful while millions of others died for something that should never have existed in the first place. It's just...hard. Just hard. For me, for everyone...God, Lockwood, I don't even know how I can be hailed as a hero in the first place when I've led so many people to death and potential slaughter!"

Tears ran down my face as my teeth sank deeper into my lip. It wasn't like I wanted to get emotional, to tell Lockwood of all the burdens that I carried, to blabber about my mistakes as the 'hero that ended the Problem'. Still, Lockwood looked at me, dark brown eyes encompassing mine with an unintelligible emotion. His lips moved as if to say something but no words came out. Instead, he merely pulled me to him, arms wrapped around my person as he fit his head into the crook of my neck.

"I know, Lucy," he said, grip a little too tight, "I know."

It sounded like he was almost choking, like he was having the same thoughts I was. I stood there, sniffling pathetically as I rested my own head against his chest. We lingered there, two souls burdened in the troubles of the past, until a cough broke us apart a few minutes later.

"I, uh, hate to interrupt here," George said, eyeing us both. "But I need to speak with our leader, Lucy."

I stepped away from Lockwood, ignoring George's raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk on his lips. Lockwood looked at George, any sign of sadness quickly washed away by irritation. "Yes, what is it?" he asked the pudgy boy.

George had a look of perplexion on his face as if he had expected more. He straightened, adjusting his glasses and voice taking on a more professional tone. "Quill asked us - or, more specifically, you - whether or not we intend to continue work as an agency. It seems he'd like to look further into the remaining supernatural phenomena and that he'd like our assistance in the investigations if we chose to do so."

"Tell him we'll do it," Lockwood said with a nod. "There are many artifacts to look into and, now that ghosts no longer haunt this plane, it may be worth the effort to see what the Fittes and Bartwell Agencies have been hiding. If it's anything like with the Bone Glass, then it will certainly be interesting in what we can find about the manifestation of the Problem itself, don't you think?"

"Certainly," the other boy tilted his head in wonder, "though, I didn't think you'd still be interested in the Problem since, y'know, we found out how it was started."

"It's not really my fancy, I admit. But, the artifacts can still hold potent supernatural residue. After all, not all of them became supernatural at the start or after the Problem began, as we noticed on the case with Bickerstaff. Now, hurry on! I don't think Quill wants to be kept long."

There was a long pause that had George looking at both of us with suspicion. I met his gaze hesitantly, unsure of what he was implying. However, with a huff and a scowl, the boy trotted off without another word. I waited for a bit before turning to Lockwood. He only sighed.

"Things are going to get tough around here, aren't they?" he inquired rhetorically. "For me, at least. What about you, Lucy? What are you going to do now? You can't very well do freelance work anymore since, well, all the ghosts are gone. Are you going to take up a proper adult job now?"

"Not even," I elbowed him and he chuckled merrily. "No, I've thought about it a little bit and, well, I'd like to come back to Lockwood & Co."

His eyes widened and he tensed. "You...want to come back?"

"Of course," I frowned at his expression, noticing that he was halfway between a gape and a look of shock. "I mean, if it's acceptable to do so? It's not like I have anywhere else and, besides, I promised Holly that I'd keep you guys in line."

Lockwood paused, his gaze distant. "Holly…" he murmured softly. "Did you see her in her final hour, when she was...dying?"

"I did. I remember the feeling of holding her hand and asking her to 'hang on, just hang on!'. Of course, she didn't make it. The ghost-touch was too fast and the ambulance was full of other people. I just...I just wish I could've helped her."

He grimaced. "We all do, Luce. Not just you. I wish I could've saved my sister and I know many wished that the battle had never had to have happened in the first place-" I winced, knowing the person of complete blame for that but Lockwood carried on, "-but, trust me, we can all put that behind us now. The ghosts are gone and everyone has sacrificed their lives for this peace we have now. Can't we enjoy it? For them, at least?"

I nodded, kicking a pebble forward. It it the stone wall across from me and bounced off harmlessly a few feet away. Lockwood mimicked the action. "Mine got farther," he boasted.

I kicked another pebble. "I think you forgot that one," I pointed a finger to my rock, beaming as I noticed that the rock had landed a few inches farther than Lockwood's had.

"That's called cheating, Luce," he scowled, nudging aside another pebble from the path beside us. He shot his foot out at it, observing its trajectory with a grin.

"And what do you call that?" I inquired to him, scowling. "Justice for my cheating?"

"No. Revenge."

The pebble flew and struck a boy on the head. The kid looked at us, shook the forbidden finger and then scurried away before Lockwood could do anything else. I snickered as the kid's mother called out my friend out on his actions, scolding Lockwood before she scolded her son. Then, she seemed to recognize my former employer, stuttered a goodbye, and then wandered away quickly with her child in tow. Lockwood and I shared a look, him smiling and me chuckling.

"The offer's open, you know," Lockwood said, quietly. "If you want to come back, I'm more than happy to let you do so."

I turned to him, red dusting my cheeks. "Really?" I asked.

He glanced away. "We missed you, George and I. Holly did too though I guess that goes without showing," the boy looked down at his shoes. "I really did miss you, Luce. And, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hiding things and I know it's selfish of me that I didn't do anything about it but I truly wished you hadn't left us that day. It didn't feel the same, you know?"

I stared at him with red blooming on my cheeks. Lockwood seemed so apologetic, so sincere, and I felt stunned that he was saying as much as he was. A smile graced my face. "I understand. It didn't feel the same without you guys, either."

"So...you're coming back?" his eyes lit up with hope and he, too, carried a smile on his lips. One I recognized too; it was his megawatt smile.

"Of course I am, you dolt," I grinned teasingly. "But only if Lockwood & Co. will still have me."

"We will," he said quickly. He faltered for a moment before scratching the back of his head and then turning to me with a serious look. "And, Lucy?"

"What?"

His dark gaze bored into mine for a while. The boy was shifting nervously, movements lost of all calmness. Then, without prompt, he looked away, hands back in his pockets. "Oh, um, it's nothing, really," Lockwood looked away, hesitant. My curiosity piqued. However, as the silence loomed upon us, I heard him say three simple words:

"I love you."

I paused, wondering if I should call him out on it. Instead, I merely took satisfaction in the admission, trailing after him. In the blanket of quietness (minus the banquet's activities and chattering, of course), I uttered soft words. Five soft words that would undoubtedly reach him. "I love you too, Lockwood."

And, from the radiant smile on his face and the lovely shade of red on his face, I knew that he had heard me. We walked further into the banquet, greeting passer-byers and attending to polite conversation while, all the while, I admired the peacefulness of it all.

The battle was over, the war was won, and the Problem was at its end.

And, now, I was back in business with Lockwood & Co.

A few notes here~

So, this is my kind of take on what the end will be like for Lockwood & Co. I've taken some obvious influence from the Tumblr community here and there (with the idea of Lucy leading an army or being its "hero", as it were) as well as my own concepts (the Fetch was right and Lucy did kill Lockwood or, at least, attempted to but he didn't actually die due to her knowledge beforehand of the occurrence). Lockwood and Lucy would end up in a relationship but it'd be more as a "I'd like to come back to Lockwood & Co. because I don't really think anywhere else can be my home" as well as a "I missed you and I realize I've been a jerk" while also being a "you're my friend first and we're going to take this slowly" kind of relationship because even though Lucy has a thing for Lockwood and (allegedly) Lockwood has a thing for her, I would see them still acting as friends even past the confession stage just with a bit of lovey-doveyness added to the mix. They're cute together, I'll admit, but I really don't care if they end up as lovers or as friends because both relationships are still cool and hilarious.