I hadn't expected all of them to come, but considering the entertainment it provided, I certainly wasn't complaining.

As soon as I opened the door, Lucy pushed past me in a huff, threw off her boots and made her way through as if she owned the place. My guess was that there had been some sort of argument in the taxi on the way and she wanted to put a bit of distance between herself and her friends, but the sheer familiarity with my house she displayed, obviously sent her friends reeling.

They each came through the door hesitantly as if they were entering cave of dangerous mysteries with hidden traps and no treasure. Tony sat down on the small bench I had in the hall and slowly took off his shoes too. He blew out his cheeks and shifted a bit awkwardly as the others also followed Lucy's example and pulled off shoes and boots. I was surprised that Tony didn't just walk in with his dirty footwear just because he could. I pointed them towards to the dining room and went to hunt Lucy down.

I found her in the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe when I saw her banging stuff around. She had already put the kettle on, found the tea and was in the process of aggressively pulling cups out of the cabinet.

It did something funny to me, seeing her be, if a little aggressive, then somehow at home. It felt dangerous and not necessarily in a bad way.

I shook my head and felt myself smile a little. I put a hand on her shoulder which made her jump. "I don't know what's got you in such a huff, but you probably ought to go sit down. That ankle of yours still isn't healed. Let me do the rest."

She scowled at me and looked like she was about to tell me off, but I gave her a pointed look. I was ninety-two percent certain that whatever she was angry about wasn't my fault and I wouldn't let her take it out on me.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face. "Fine." She huffed and shoved the cup she was holding into my hand.

I shook my head and led her by the shoulder past the kitchen table and into the dining room where the table was considerably bigger. The others stood there like awkward sheep, looking around and taking everything in.

"Make yourselves comfortable," I shrugged and was amused by the way they continued their hesitant behaviour as if the chairs might be boobytrapped. Lucy already slumped in her seat with her arms crossed like a petulant toddler.

I went in the kitchen to finish the job Lucy had started. When I came back with the tray, they had obviously been talking, but stopped as soon as I walked in.

"So – Not that you lot aren't welcome anytime," I started, perhaps a little sarcastically, "but I had only expected Lucy. To what do I owe the questionable honour?" I smirked.

No one looked particularly comfortable. Lucy looked pointedly at Tony, prompting him to speak.

"Right. Kipps. Er… What I mean to say is… Thank you… You know. For your help with the Winkmans." He almost looked like he was in physical pain and I was probably enjoying it far too much. Cubbins and Munro were both studying their teas intensely.

I decided to put him out of his misery. "Whatever, Tony." I waved him off as if it were nothing. "It wasn't as if I had anything better to do."

My mother would strongly disagree.

"But you were fired." Cubbins stated in confusion.

I lifted an eyebrow at Lucy. I was surprised she hadn't told them.

"I'd been thinking about leaving for a while now anyway." I shrugged, sitting down. "But something tells me that thanking me or asking about my employment status isn't what you came for. A quick thank you could easily be delivered at the door, so what else do you want?"

Tony looked at me as if he didn't know me at all. Which I supposed was right. We hadn't known each other for a while now.

"But I thought you loved it at Fittes."

I thought about it a bit. "I loved being an agent. More than anything." I smiled ruefully. "But now things are different. My rapier hasn't seen any plasm for ages and I'm not good for much other than sending kids into danger without knowing what I'm sending them into. Being supervisor has its benefits I suppose – Fittes generally treat their people well. Division leader is even more lucrative, but not what I really want – it's all paperwork, politics and kissing arse and I can easily do that somewhere else. It frankly sucks to be so close to the fight and not be able to participate. Then I'd rather be doing something entirely different. But again – I imagine you don't particularly give a shit about my career, so what do you want?"

Tony bit his lower lip like he didn't know how to continue. Cubbins saved him.

"What do you know about DEPRAC?"

I snorted. "I know they've offered me a job." Lucy's eyes snapped to mine. "I've turned it down though because I might as well be working for Fittes or Rotwell. It's almost the same job. Especially Rotwell have their fingers in that cake. But don't you know that already, Munro? You used to work there, didn't you?"

The secretary turned agent looked at me and shook her head. "There are representatives from both Fittes and Rotwell on the board as advisors. Other than that, I don't know anything."

"Well, Fittes and Rotwell do have an equal amount of people on the board, but I know that one Fittes objective is to place former Fittes agents in the upper management in order to gain more power through loyalty. All nepotism and probably the worst kept secret in the company. But Rotwell is much more powerful at DEPRAC as things are now. They're supplying DEPRAC with most of their weaponry and protective gear. They have lots of prototypes they're testing in the field too. Of course, the Rotwell agents are testing as well, but they offered DEPRAC free technology, probably for influence."

"How do you know so much?" Munro asked.

I just shrugged. "I'm observant, I guess and while they're all about discretion in the field, Fittes supervisors and leaders are all about gossiping and bragging at the office."

"Oh, Fittes supervisors bragging? Can't imagine that." Cubbins remarked and I flipped him off.

"Anyway," I continued, "Rotwell's logo is on all DEPRAC's stuff and I've always had somewhat of an interest in different types of weaponry so I may or may not have examined most of their things." I scratched the back of my neck.

Tony snorted.

"So Rotwell Institute makes itself indispensable to DEPRAC and gains control in that way." Lucy concluded, speaking properly for the first time.

"That's what I would do if I was trying to control a public institution." I said with a shrug.

"Thought about that a lot, have you?" Cubbins snarked.

I smirked "You, more than me, Cubbins."

Lucy snorted and Tony only shrugged. They both knew I was right.

"Now, do you mind filling me in on what this is all about?"

Tony huffed an irritable sigh and looked at the clock "Lucy can tell you, I suppose. We need to get going. Think we have a Shining Boy in Peckham."

"Lovely. Have fun." I winked at him and he rolled his eyes at me.

Cubbins and Munro got up and moved towards the hall. I followed them, leaving Tony to have a small whispered argument with Lucy.

"Lover's tiff?" I asked Lucy after the others had left

The look I received in return was clearly designed to make me cower and I could tell by the way her knuckles turned white, that she was annoyed that it didn't work.

"We're not – no! It wasn't."

I chuckled. Sure, it wasn't.

"Do you want more tea?" I asked, instead of pointing out the obvious.

Lucy sighed and followed me into the kitchen, bringing her own cup with her along with the ones her friends had left behind. She gave me hers and put the other three in the sink.

I put the kettle on, and she watched me curiously as I pulled out what I liked to call my cleaning drawer. It had some stuff for basic maintenance along with a small pile of things that needed to be cared for. It was handy to have it close for whenever I had a few moments to spare.

"So – tell me. What's going on?" I prompted and picked up a small dagger I had been meaning to fix up for a while.

She frowned at me. "Isn't that a bit impractical for ghosts? You'd need to get much too close."

"That's not what it's for." I told her and started inspecting the blade. "Now, don't beat around the bush. Tell me."

Lucy huffed. "You know I'm a really great Listener."

"A really modest one too." I remarked and got a tea towel in my face for it.

"I can talk to Type Three's" She blurted and covered her mouth with her hand.

I dropped the dagger. "You're shitting me." I looked at her face, trying to determine whether she was lying.

She shook her head, wide-eyed.

"Shit." I blinked slowly and something occurred to me "Wait – When you came for Cubbins and me back on that case with the bone-glass, you told Joplin that you had – you have a Type Three?"

My eyes snapped to hers and I was surprised to see that she looked quite put out.

"I lost it."

I had an awfully hard time processing this. Type Three ghosts were so rare they were close to being a myth. The only one who had supposedly been able to talk to them was Marissa Fittes and there had been talk at the agency about her not being entirely of sound mind.

Statistically, there was much larger chance that Lucy had developed some sort of psychosis.

"Are you... entirely sure?" I asked carefully. "What do the others say?"

That earned me an indignant look and another tea towel, but I caught this one before it hit me.

"I'm not crazy you git!"

I chuckled "Where did you even get a Type Three then?" I had to ask.

"George nicked it from Fittes just before he left" she grinned cheekily.

I was not surprised in any way, shape or form.

I huffed a little laugh. "Good old Cubbins. Always had to have the last word."

"That's the one." She smiled a little and I was happy she was cheering up a bit.

"What do you even talk to a ghost about? Meaning of life? Death?" I wondered.

She snorted, "Mostly it just encourages me to commit homicide. I think because it wants to live victariously through me"

I cleared my throat, "You mean vicariously?"

"Yes. That. I was close," she waved her hand around impatiently.

I loved the way her cheeks turned pink. It was fun.

The water boiled and I gave up on the dagger. I slammed the drawer shut and washed my hands before fixing the tea.

"It helps me from time to time when I'm out on cases."

I coughed a little. "On case – on cases? You're just casually bringing along a Type Three ghost in what – your rucksack?"

"Well not anymore!" she shrugged.

That so wasn't my point.

"I'm still not entirely convinced you aren't crazy."

She slapped my shoulder, probably because she couldn't find any more tea towels lying around.

"Seriously," I continued. "You're telling me that you've been running around with a homicidal Type Three ghost in your rucksack and you trust it enough to have your back?"

She scoffed, "Well, I don't trust it implicitly, but it's been helpful in the past."

"So, it's what – like a friend?" I asked.

She drew in a breath and blew out her cheeks before answering. "I suppose, of sorts."

I shook my head. "I don't get you, Lucy Carlyle."

She gave me a small smile "So you've said."

…

We took our tea with us to the living room where Quill showed me his new sofa with a flourish of his hand. It was the one he held my tea in, because he didn't want me sloshing it all over the place by 'hobbling around like a cripple'. I hated that I was still walking unsteadily.

"Tadaa!"

I sniggered because he looked like a very bad magician. "It looks nice."

"Well, it is nice. And comfortable. No more waking up like – well uh... like that" he finished awkwardly, busying himself with rummaging around in a drawer.

"Yeah. No more waking up like that." I echoed and was annoyed that it came out a little breathy. "But I did sleep on your old sofa once before, so it was possible."

He shrugged "Perhaps, but it wasn't exactly comfortable, was it?"

No, it wasn't. I remembered having to curl up entirely and struggle keeping my legs from falling down. But still - I'd slept in worse places.

I limped over to sit in one end of the sofa. It really was comfortable – soft, but not so soft that you felt like drowning in it and made in fabric rather than leather.

I smiled when Quill dropped down two coasters on the table to put the tea on and I thought of all the rings from cups and mugs all around on virtually all surfaces in Portland Row. This was certainly something different.

"So," he started. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"Well, I was thinking about this." I told him and showed him my arm. They hadn't removed the stitches at the hospital, and I thought it was time. Not that I was an expert.

He laughed "Do all your visits have to be injury related? Because I'd rather you didn't hurt yourself just to come to see me."

I shook my head in exasperation. "I feel like I get injured enough already."

"You do. I have no idea how your success rate as an agent is so high when you're so clumsy." He remarked.

I tried to slap his shoulder with the hand I was already holding out towards him, but he caught it before I could make contact and held it still so he could inspect the wound. His thumb drew small circles in my palm, not unlike what he had done when I was in the hospital, but it was somehow different now when I wasn't in a hospital bed.

It tickled, but I didn't stop him.

"I think it's time to remove the stitches," he concluded and went down to the basement, supposedly to get his extensive first aid kit.

I sat, immobile in the sofa, trying to stabilise my breathing. It was embarrassing the way I suddenly had trouble to avoid blushing. I had managed an entire week of this sort of interaction with Quill. Why was it different now?

He returned, bringing the kit with him and put it down near the table. Then he went into the kitchen and I tried not to sweat. I put it down to nerves – after all, I did hate getting stitches removed.

He came back, carrying a towel and two bowls. One was full of water.

He pulled out the things he would need which was tweezers, small gauze pads and a special scissor that looked more like a nail clipper than anything else. Before getting to work, he put on gloves and I could pretend that this was just a professional situation. I imagined that I wasn't trembling and that I couldn't feel the heat from his hand through the gloves.

He made quick work of the stitches and pulled them out carefully with the tweezers

When that was done, he used the gauze pads and the water to clean the wound and dabbed it dry. It was all very neat.

And Lockwood was right, it did make a cool scar.

Lockwood.

I had a strange squeezing feeling in my stomach and I bit my lip.

"There. That wasn't too bad, was it?"

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

He chuckled a little and started tidying up. I caught his arm before he went back in the kitchen

"Thank you." I whispered.

His green eyes sparkled, and I could have sworn his eyes dropped to my lips for perhaps a fraction of a second. I know mine dropped to his.

"You're welcome." He murmured with a small smile and left with the things.

I leaned back in the sofa and I realised that I was still affected by the concussion because my head was spinning. I closed my eyes and sighed. I felt the sofa dip slightly when Quill sat down at the other end.

"Maybe you should rest a little," He suggested, "I have some paperwork to entertain myself with."

I only nodded and sunk a little lower in the sofa. I felt a blanket covering me and Quill lifted my feet gently, so they were lying nice and warm in his lap. I was out in seconds.

...

After being an agent for years and then supervisor, it was hard to get used to a normal sleep schedule. For this reason, I still tended to be up most of the night.

That's why I was still awake at two a.m. when I heard a knock at the door.

I put the ring binder on the table and lifted Lucy's feet off me, gently not to wake her up.

It could be anyone really, from Winkman's people to Kate, to Tony so I kept my rapier close.

Turned out it was Tony, almost covered head to toe in plasm.

I was sorely tempted to just stab him a little for the hell of it and blame it on thinking that he was one of Winkman's people. I didn't think he'd buy it though.

I put a finger to my mouth to indicate for him to stay quiet. He took off his plasm-covered shoes and followed me into the living room.

I heard him sigh when he saw Lucy sleeping and I glanced at him as he stood there, staring at his employee.

I wondered if I looked like just a big a moron when I looked at her.

I caught his eyes and indicated going towards the kitchen. When we got there, I pointed him towards a chair and he plopped down, obviously too tired for any antagonism

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked and started making him a sandwich and a hot chocolate. He looked like he needed it.

He shook his head and scratched his neck. "Wasn't a Shining Boy. It was a Changer."

"And so, of course, you followed the manual." I remarked, shoving as much sarcasm into my tone as the sentence could contain."

He looked at me sheepishly "I charged it."

I know I had told Lucy that he wasn't an idiot, but I strongly considered taking back that statement.

I shook my head at him "How long are you going to keep doing this, Tony?"

"Doing what?" he asked defensively.

I sighed and put the plate and the hot chocolate in front of him and sat down at the table as well.

"How long has it been now? Five years? Six?"

He rubbed his face tiredly and looked much older than he was. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it. At least not with me," I rolled with my eyes, "but you have other people. People who care about you," I pointed towards the living room, "talk to Lucy or Munro. Hell, talk to Cubbins! He probably has the emotional range of a constipated walrus, but it's better than committing suicide by stupidity."

Tony smiled a little, "George is surprisingly sensitive, but you know it's not… they're my employees."

Jesus.

I scoffed, "on a scale of one to ten, how offended do you think they would be if you said that to their faces?"

He had the decency to blush.

"I think you should go home, Tony. Let Lucy stay here for tonight."

Tony's jaws tightened and he scowled at me.

I raised my hands placatingly "Easy boy, I'm not doing anything to her that she doesn't want me to."

Maybe my disarming gesture was slightly diluted by the grin I couldn't help spreading on my face because Tony looked ready to punch me in the nose.

"I'll be back in the morning" He ground out and left in a huff.