Lucy:

"Let go of me" I sneered.

James Rumsford chuckled, his breath ghosting across my cheek. I nearly vomited.

"I don't think so. I think you're going to come with me like a good little girl, nice and quietly."

He stepped back and pulled on my arm, but I held firm, leaning back against the column. At this point I honestly preferred the Clapham Butcher Boy.

"You don't know me very well, do you?" I sneered at him with far more bravado than I probably ought to.

"Oh, but I would so like to," he practically purred.

"You still have a rapier, you know," the skull reminded me. "And those pretty knives Quill gave you."

I couldn't actually answer the skull of course. If I could, I would have told it that however tempting its suggestions were for once, committing murder probably wasn't a good idea with about a hundred witnesses. That and this guy was stronger than me and a Fittes agent with a police badge inside the Fittes building. I was fast, but I wouldn't even manage to stab him properly before getting killed myself.

"Piss off," I told the creep coldly. His grip on my arm tightened even more.

"Don't be difficult, Lucy. It won't end well if you are," he threatened lowly.

"Don't you wish you'd freed me now? He could've been dead before he even looked at you."

"Let go of me," I repeated, a little louder.

I saw some of the nearby agents turning their heads to look at us and quickly turning back to Penelope Fittes who was still droning on about togetherness and collaboration.

"Come on Lucy don't be like that," he laughed and gave a particularly hard tug, so I fell off Lockwood's bag and into his arms.

He dug his fingers into my arm, which I was certain would bruise, and grabbed the hair at the back of my head with the other hand. I tried hard not to wince.

"If you don't let go of me now, I swear I'll cut off your arm," I growled.

"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!" the skull cheered me on in a whisper.

A throat cleared in front of us. It was the mountain of a young man whose hoovering-capabilities I had questioned before.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked somewhat rhetorically.

James let go of my hair and his lips curled in distaste at the Tendy agent.

"I don't believe that's any of your business." He puffed himself up, but the other guy was still half a head taller than him.

The Tendy agent lifted an eyebrow and elbowed his friend who also turned around to see the spectacle James Rumsford had created.

"I believe the young lady told you to get lost. Repeatedly."

James' mouth tightened and he tried to look towards the doors.

"I just need to have a small conversation with her," he told them impatiently, still keeping up the pressure on my arm.

Mountain man looked at me carefully. "Seems like she isn't too eager to go with you mate. Maybe you should try sending a letter instead," he suggested.

His friend snorted. "Just let go of the girl and get lost."

Rather than letting me go, James pulled hard on my arm and I cried out. The two Tendy-agents stepped forward towards us.

James pressed his face all up to mine. "Just remember, Carlyle, that everything that happens from now on is your fault," he said through gritted teeth against the side of my face before running his tongue over the shell of my ear.

I barely managed to keep from gagging.

He roughly let go of me, shoving me hard into the column before leaving. I followed his form with my eyes as he moved across the room. He stopped at the entrance where Sir Rupert stood. They had a quick conversation and Sir Rupert looked my way. Our eyes locked and he smirked before turning on his heel and leaving with James.

The skull snorted. "Talk about not handling rejection well,"

"You alright?" the mountain asked gently.

I snapped my head over, to meet his kind eyes.

"I – Yeah, I'm fine,"

He lifted an eyebrow. "It's okay if you're not, you know."

He looked around, searching for someone. "You're Lucy Carlyle, aren't you? One of Lockwood's?"

I nodded dumbly. Indeed, I was.

He frowned. "And he sent you alone to this thing?"

"No, he didn't." I felt my eyes warming with tears and I hated it. I looked away, pretending to look for Lockwood so the Tendy agent couldn't see me crying. That would be beyond embarrassing.

I even caught Tina looking at me with worry. I felt like lashing out or running away. Preferably both, but even though Lockwood had abandoned me, I refused to abandon him.

"I'm Arthur, by the way and this is Evan." Hoover-boy continued and gestured at his friend. He completely ignored my tears.

No look of sympathy or comforting words. I appreciated that.

I leaned against the column and took a deep calming breath. That was when Lockwood decided to reappear, sporting a ridiculous grin. It only fell minutely when he realised the two Tendy agents were scowling at him.

"So, show's over. Better get going, shall we?" he offered me his hand.

Rather than taking his hand, I picked up his bag from the floor and placed the strap in it.

Arthur gave Lockwood a short nod "Lockwood," he greeted, not letting up on the scowl.

Lockwood's nose wrinkled in confusion and he squinted at Arthur. "Graham?" he asked slowly with a wince, obviously not remembering.

"Arthur Dean," he said with an eyeroll. "We worked together for a bit with Sykes before I started with Tendy."

Lockwood's cheeks went a bit pink. "Ah. Apologies."

He snorted. "Don't apologise to me. You should take better care of your people."

Lockwood's eyes darkened.

"It was nice to meet you, Lucy. If you ever need anything, just give me a call."

Arthur gave me a card with his number and a gentle smile. Then he left after sending Lockwood one last scowl.

Lockwood huffed. "I remember him being a lot more cheerful once upon a time."

I rolled my eyes and left. I didn't even look to see if Lockwood kept up.

I walked.

I simply walked and walked and walked.

I walked out of the marble hall, down the stairs and down the street.

I walked away from Fittes House, I walked away from the other agents.

I walked.

Lockwood walked behind me.

We reached a park. I'm not even sure which one, but as it had gotten dark, the place was naturally deserted.

I threw down the bag with an indignant squawk from the skull, ripped off my parka in spite of the cold and threw it on a bench.

I took one of my throwing knives and threw it with all my might at a nearby tree.

It stuck.

Then I threw another, another and one more. They all stuck to the tree.

For a while I just stood, staring at my work.

I felt that numbness. The one that comes with unsurprised disappointment.

"So, what did I miss?" Lockwood tried with a sheepish smile.

"Where were you?" I asked quietly.

He frowned.

"Where. Were. You?" I repeated louder.

He rubbed the back of his neck and that stupid smile appeared on his face again.

"I saw a chance and I took it?" he shrugged.

"Unbelievable," I mumbled, turning away from him.

I roughly pulled the knives out of the tree. I couldn't look at him.

I heard him puffing behind me and felt him put a hand on my shoulder.

"Come on, Lucy. Talk to me," he demanded in a placating tone.

Placating. Condescending.

I took several calming breaths.

"I thought you had my back." I hated how my voice shook.

I heard him sigh. "I always have your back," he told me softly. He put a hand on my other shoulder, running down to rub my arm. I pulled away with a wince.

I laughed without humour. "Is that so? What part of my back did you have back at Fittes House?"

I turned around to catch him rolling his eyes at me.

"I was only gone for a couple of minutes."

"That's not the point." I felt the tears spilling again and this time I let them fall. "I thought you agreed to stop going solo. To stop with the secrets. That you wouldn't leave me in the dark anymore."

He sighed and looked up at the moonless sky. "Maybe it's just a habit."

"Just a – just a habit? Are you kidding me?" I giggled a bit hysterically. "We were in enemy territory tonight, Lockwood. I thought you were with me, so I let my guard down."

He frowned. "What happened, Lucy?"

"He almost took me," I told him in a small voice and immediately regretted it. Not because I didn't want him to know, but because that was the moment it suddenly felt real. I realised how close a call it had actually been.

I ran over to a nearby bush and vomited.

I heard his shoes on the sandy pavement and raised a hand to make him stop. I didn't want him to come near me.

I coughed and spat out the last of it. Then I trudged over to my bag for my water bottle.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

I still refused to look at him. I cleared my throat, determined not to cry anymore. I tried to detach myself like I did when a ghost tried to influence me. To separate myself from my own experience to see it objectively.

"James Rumsford wanted me to come with him," I told him as a matter of fact. "Sir Rupert Gale was waiting at the door for him to bring me."

I look a large mouthful of water, swirled it around a bit and spit it out. "Don't know what they wanted with me, but I doubt they had tea and crumpets in mind. He tried to take me by force, but that Arthur fellow interrupted him. I imagine that it'll probably have consequences for him. No one else would risk doing anything to help. But tell me, what was so important that you had to leave me all alone without backup and not even bothering to tell me that you went away?" I demanded, crossing my arms, and looking up at him.

His eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open a bit. He was standing perfectly still. Had this been a game of musical statues, he would definitely have won.

Then he blinked as if coming to life again slowly. Like that fluorescent lamp we had in the kitchen.

He looked at me in concern and I wanted to slap that look off his face. "Are – are you okay? Did he touch – did he – did he hurt you?"

He tried to step closer, but I backed away.

"I asked you a question," I pointed out coldly.

He bit his lip and gave me a pained expression. He reached out for me but let his arm drop again.

"It was just – I was thinking about all those secret places at Fittes house," he started quietly and went to sit on the bench next to my parka. "I figured that maybe with everyone gathered for the meeting, maybe I could have a little look around."

He shrugged, looking down at his shoes and biting at his cuticles.

"And you didn't think it was necessary to tell me that you were leaving?"

His right leg was bouncing wildly. "I suppose I thought you'd say no. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission."

I scoffed. "It's not about permission, Lockwood. It's about the simplest courtesy of telling me that I'm alone so I can be prepared! He took me by surprise, and I had no time to react or try to get away before he grabbed me! I thought we were partners! I thought I could rely on you!" I yelled. Tears were starting to fall down my cheeks again and I quickly swiped them away.

He looked as if I really had slapped his face.

"I'm – Lucy, I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in danger."

I sighed and looked at my boots, trying to push down my disappointment. It was just as much my own fault, I supposed. I'd known him long enough to know that he had a hard time staying put and a hard time involving others in his plans. I should have known better than expect him to stay by my side. I should have been more vigilant. Instead, I'd let my guard down, thinking that he had my back. I should stop making that mistake. Wasn't there once someone who said that insanity was to do the same thing over and over and expect different results?

"Let's just do these two jobs and go home." I told him.

He nodded weakly.

…

Quill:

I blearily looked at the glowing red numbers of my alarm before closing my eyes again, convinced that I had only heard the door knocking in my dream.

Then it knocked again.

Yawned and stretched before making my way to the door.

I opened it, only to be met by an armful of Lucy.

I was unprepared and only just managed to catch her.

I closed the door and leaned against it, hugging her tightly.

She was shaking so hard it was almost convulsive and she was sobbing into my chest.

A thousand things went through my mind as to what might have happened, but I didn't dare ask any questions.

I slid down against the door, so we sat on the floor of the hallway. I carefully peeled the bag off her shoulders and gathered her completely in my lap and tried stroking her hair gently.

The concept of time was lost to me as we sat there. The sand from my boots carried in from outside tickled my bare feet, and my bottom fell asleep, but Lucy was in my arms.

After what might have been minutes or hours or days, Lucy's sobs slowly died down and the shaking turned to small shivers.

I took off her boots and stood up with her in my arms with perhaps a little difficulty and carried her to my living room.

I sat down on the sofa, but I didn't let go of her.

I carefully zipped down the parka she was wearing and slowly eased first one arm and then the other out of it before wrapping her in a blanket.

I kept her close, sending a silent prayer that no one had died.

"Lucy, what happened?" I whispered.

She didn't speak for a long time. If not for her open, empty eyes, I'd have thought she was asleep.

"George –" she eventually croaked.

"What about him?" I asked as gently as I could.

"He – he – Oh god!" she started crying again and I ran a hand up and down her back.

"Is he…" I trailed off. Not wanting to say it.

"He's – he's alive," she assured me. "For now."

I raked my brain trying to come up with what to do, what to say or what to ask.

"Is there uh – is there anything we can do about whatever happened, right now?"

She shook her head and I stood up with her in my arms and walked to my bedroom where I put her down on the bed in the softest way I possibly could.

I turned around, but she grabbed my wrist before I could step away.

"Don't go, Quill. Please."

I gave her a small smile. "I'm just going to get you a glass of water. Promise."

She reluctantly let go of my hand.

While I was in the kitchen, my mind was racing with all sorts of scenarios. Cubbins and I couldn't exactly be called bosom buddies, but I suppose we did have a sort of begrudging friendship going on. I sure as hell didn't want anything bad to happen to him, regardless of his bad hygiene and inflated sense of superiority. (I realise there might have been a case of a pot calling a kettle black here. I'm not completely blind to my own faults.)

I wanted to know what had happened, if only to let my brain rest, but Lucy didn't need me to pump her for information now.

When I returned, she was sitting up, leaning against the headboard.

She looked like an absolute mess. Her entire face was pink, and her eyes were red. She was staring at nothing in particular, but it seemed that for now, she had run out of tears.

She gave a start when I sat down next to her. I put the glass of water in her hand and slowly pushed it towards her. She took a couple of sips before returning it to me.

Now her eyes were firmly fixated on the stripes of my comforter.

"You don't have to talk tonight if you don't want to," I assured her.

She only nodded absently.

"I'll go sleep on the sofa," I smiled gently at her.

I gave her hand a squeeze and stood to walk out, but she didn't let go of my hand.

"Stay," she whispered.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily, "I can't do that, Lucy."

"Why not?"

I opened my eyes again to find her looking at me with genuine curiosity.

"Because it would hurt too much. I've already held you in this bed. It would be torture to stay here and try not to do it again, I'm not sure that I can."

"It would probably hurt me too, but what if I wanted it anyway? What if I thought that it would be worth it?" She bit her lip and looked up at me. Even with red eyes, swollen from crying, she was still the most beautiful vision I had ever known to exist.

I closed my eyes and bent my head, internally cursing my own existence.

"What if I wanted you to hold me?" she asked in such a small voice that I almost missed it.

I relented.

…

Thank you for reading!
I'm sorry for being a bit harsh on Lockwood, but I was honestly pissed off when I read that part where he had just left. Again.

Also, I'm sorry for slowing down a bit on the updating, but at the moment I'm home schooling my oldest while working from home and taking care of the toddler who wakes up about 4-5 times per night plus listening attentively to my husband's 15-minute rants about paper thickness and pencil brands. I have like half an hour writing time before collapsing. My brain feels like burnt oatmeal.

Please leave a review on the chapter or how you feel the story is going.