"So this Jacobs fellow was your former supervisor?" Quill asked as we walked down the sunlit street that lead to Jacobs' office. We had met up in the town-square after I finished the appointment at the solicitor – which had been a two hour-long nightmare of reading through legal documents and signing my name about a 100 times – and the atmosphere during the entire walk so far had been awkward.

"Yeah, before I left for London after my old team-…" I faltered, but Quill didn't push further.

"You don't have to tell me, but I assume Tony knows what happened?" He took off his jacket and hung it over his arm. I had done the same a little earlier, because the weather was unusually warm for this time of year. I nodded in response to his question

"Then why not take him?" It was a fair question, and I knew the others were probably wondering about it too. The announcement I wanted to visit Jacobs had shocked them more than that I wanted to start the case tonight. Lockwood and George knew about my history with the man, and both of them understood I'd rather not go anywhere near him. But it was one of his kids that found Mam, so he likely had useful information.

"I don't… Jacobs isn't one to fall for charm," it sounded weak, even to me. Quill probably had suspicions about my real reasoning too, but he didn't call me out on the fib. "And he used to be a Fittes agent as well," I added quickly.

Quill rolled his eyes. "I've basically been excommunicated. I will hardly get sympathy from him, if it even comes up."

"Oh, don't be dramatic, I bet he's in the same boat. I doubt he would have ended up in a small northern town if he left the agency on good terms."

Nerves fluttered in my stomach when we arrived on the doorstep of Jacobs' rooms, and I had half a mind to turn around and make a run for it. Of course I didn't get the chance. After checking the address, Quill rang the bell. A small girl opened the door. If I were to estimate her age, I'd put her at seven, but she had to be older than that to start a traineeship as an agent. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into two simple braids, and she was wearing a mustard-coloured jacket over a simple black dress and leggings.

"Huh, so this is where you picked up your fashion sense," Quill muttered. I jabbed him in the side with an elbow.

"Hello, eh…" I wrecked my brain for the girl's name. I was convinced I'd seen her around before I left for London, but it had been two years and I couldn't remember her name for the life of me. The girl just stared at me with wide blue eyes that shone as if somebody had pointed a spotlight on her face. She was starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

"Hello, we're here to talk to Agent Jacobs, could you get him for us, little lady?" Quill took over from me. He flashed her a kind grin, and I watched in surprise as a hint of red crept up the little girl's cheeks. She spun on her heel and skipped down the hallway, braids dancing behind her.

"What?" Quill asked when I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Tony isn't the only one who can be charming, you know?"

Together we watched as the girl knocked on the door to Jacobs study once before yelling: "Mr Jacobs! The runaway girl is at the door!"

A few seconds passed before the girl moved back a little and the door opened. I don't know what I had been expecting, but coming face to face with my former supervisor caught me off guard either way. At first glance he hadn't changed much at all. He still stood tall in his old fashioned suit, his nose was still hooked and he still had a thick, bushy beard. The look he sent me -while not quite a glower or a glare- wasn't friendly, and suddenly I felt like I was fourteen all over again. When he came closer however, I could see that the past few years had changed him, even if the changes were subtle. His beard was streaked with silver hair now, and his skin looked even ashier than it had when I worked for him. The dark bags underneath his eyes didn't do much to make him look younger either.

"Good morning, miss Carlyle," he said, "I'm sorry about your mother." Of all the things I'd expected to happen when I met Jacobs again, I hadn't expected detached politeness.

"Thank you," I managed after a moment.

"Please come further," Jacobs said before turning around and walking back in the direction of his office. "Emma, could you ask Daniel to put on some water for tea?" he asked the little girl who was watching us from the doorway to the kitchen. Those big, shiny eyes of hers were resting on Quill, and the blush returned to her face when he gave her a small wave. She quickly ducked out of view.

I nudged Quill in the side. "Seems like you've got an admirer, Kipps."

"Whatever Carlyle," Quill replied with a roll of his eyes.

We followed Jacobs into the office, where he pulled out two chairs and placed them in front of his oak desk. When I worked for Jacobs, this room was off limits to me. Us kids kept to the living area and the kitchen, or slept in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs after a long night. Jacobs tended to stay in the office where he kept the books and received clients. The room sure differed from the sitting room in Portland Row though. Where our sitting room had an eccentric charm because of the tribal items, Jacobs had tried to create a professional atmosphere. He had a large hardwood desk with a comfortable office chair behind it, and a filing cabinet stood against the sidewall. Two dark brown bookcases filled with literature on Visitors and multiple editions of the Fittes Manual filled up the additional space. There were no silver glass cases with artefacts or trophies, the only visible decoration in the room being an antique Italian Rapier, mounted to the wall behind the desk.

The mismatched he pulled out for me and Quill slightly undermined the effect, as they looked like they had come from a secondhand shop. Quill and I sat down. Jacobs offered Quill his callused hand. "We haven't been introduced yet. I'm Thomas Jacobs."

"Quill Kipps," Quill replied. "I'm a consultant for Lockwood and Co."

Jacobs looked him over with interest. "Consultant? I thought you'd be a supervisor."

"Used to be, at Fittes," Quill replied with a shrug of his bony shoulders.

"Lockwood and Co doesn't work with supervisors," I added, my voice a lot sharper than I had intended.

A beat of silence in which Quill raised an eyebrow at me, and I cursed myself for my hostile tone. It wouldn't do to antagonise him before we even got any information out of him. Jacobs seemed to take the comment in stride though.

"Fair enough," he muttered under his breath. He walked around the desk and sat down I the office chair, folding his hands together on the desktop in an effort to get his professional air back. "How can I help you today?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't form words. Being here had thrown me off more than I expected. Sitting on that uncomfortable dining chair in front of the large desk made me feel small and silly, more like an unwitting client who came beg for help than the strong agent I really was. I was about to try again when a soft knock sounded.

"Come on in," Jacobs called. The door opened slowly, nudged open by a small foot. Emma came shuffling in, carrying a tray with a simple tea set and a small plate of biscuits. She had to hoist the tray up high to shove it onto the desk, and with another glance at Kipps, she rushed out of the room. The door didn't slam as she pulled it shut behind her, but the click of the latch bolt falling into the lock was just as definite. We wouldn't be interrupted again.

This time Quill took the lead.

"Lockwood and Co wants to take the case," he stated. He spoke in a clear voice, and his tone made it clear that this was a fact and he wouldn't be swayed, but Jacobs still raised an eyebrow. "The case? Of the Visitor that Ghost Touched Mrs Carlyle?"

"Yes."

"I do not see what that has to do with a London based agency. To my knowledge you are here to pay your respects to Mrs Carlyle." The simple dismissal twisted something in my gut, and I wanted to tell him where he could stick his 'knowledge', but Quill spoke faster again. "The family asked us to investigate. We'd like to know what you can tell us about the circumstances of the incident?"

Jacobs stayed quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit. When he spoke, he was reluctant, as if he didn't want to give us the information he had. "We were doing our rounds of the public spaces. Daniel, Thomas and Sophie found Mrs Carlyle on the steps to the entrance of the station."

"On the steps?" I repeated. Jacobs nodded and reached for his tea while I tried to make sense of the new information.

The fact that Mam had been anywhere near the station was odd in the first place, as it was far out of the way from her route home. She went straight from either one of the hotels back to the cottage without detours or distractions. She had gone far out of her way to go to the station, after the last trains of the day had left, and been attacked on the steps. I couldn't make any sense of it. I had always thought Mam was a creature of habit, but maybe she had changed since I left. Did I really know my family anymore?

"According to Daniel a faint, possibly male figure hovered above her." Jacobs continued. His voice shook me out of my thoughts and I glanced up as he took a sip of his tea.

Quill waited a moment for me to continue questioning Jacobs and nudged my calf with his boot when I didn't. I couldn't form another question, my tongue felt thick in my mouth, thick and dry and completely useless.

I grabbed my cup of tea and took a hearty sip. The liquid wasn't hot enough to scald my tongue, but not quite at a comfortable drinking temperature either. Still it gave me an excuse not to talk, and Quill took over the conversation again with a frown.

"So the Visitor appeared to be male?" He asked. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the ghost?"

"I personally can't," Jacobs replied. "Lost the last of my talents decades ago – you know how it is." He gave a rueful smile as if sharing a self-deprecating with Quill, who grimaced at the mention of his fading talents.

"Can any of the children tell us then?" Quill continued, trying to keep on track. Jacobs shrugged. "Perhaps you could get something out of them, but I wouldn't bother."

"And why not?" I asked, putting my cup down with more force than necessary.

"Because everybody in town knows it was Christopher Carlyle."

For a moment we were all silent. My sisters and I had had that suspicion already, but hearing it still made my stomach turn. I had always feared he'd come back one day, and now it seemed like he had. My Mam's cynical joke about him haunting the local pub suddenly wasn't so funny anymore.

"How can you be so sure about that?" Quill asked, looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

"Well, while the kids are too young to have known him, those of us who did can take a guess based on the description. Besides, he was the last death at the station."

Quill nodded. "I see. And there aren't any other leads?"

"No. The Visitor was sighted again last night, so we have advised people to stay away from the station after curfew until further notice."

"No idea what the source could be then?"

"None. We didn't engage. Getting Mrs Carlyle to the clinic was our main priority, we were planning to investigate soon."

I finally found my voice again. "Well, you don't have to anymore." I put my cup down with more force than necessary, and both Quill and Jacobs turned to look at me. "Like we said, we're taking on the case."

"You said you want to take the case," Jacobs pointed out. "I never said I would hand it to you." Of course. He just had to be difficult. After the entire conversation, he still threw up a claim on the case.

Quill raised an eyebrow at him and voiced my thoughts. "Why answer our questions then? The family asked us to investigate, so we will."

"Are you sure that is wise, miss Carlyle?" The way Jacobs looked at me made my blood boil. During the conversation, I had kept my old anger under lock and key as much as I could, stashing the emotions away to get as much information from my old supervisor as we could. Now it reared its ugly head with full force, and I shot up from my chair.

"I don't need anyone to question my judgement," I bit out. "Least of all you!"

Quill got his feet too, putting a hand on my arm and trying to calm me down. I tried to pull my arm out of his grip, but he wouldn't budge.
"Thank you for the help sir, have a good day" He blurted, trying to pull me along with him in the general direction of the door. Jacobs watched silently as I put up a token struggle to Quill dragging me along. The man only opened his mouth when Quill had opened the door and tried to steer me through.

"Miss Carlyle – Lucy," he called after us. With great reluctance I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. "You're right. For what it is worth, I'm sorry for what happened at the Wythburn mill that night. I will forever regret that I did not listen to your insight." He took care to meet my eyes, and the wrinkles in his skin seemed to be even deeper than they had been at the start of our conversation.

I closed my eyes, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat that rose with the mention of that terrible night. "So do I," I managed. With that I walked out, closing the door behind me. Quill didn't let go of me but led me down the hallway towards the front door, pretending not to notice the curious eyes of the children peeking out of the kitchen.

A/N: So, here's chapter 5! It took a little longer than I expected at first, but I hope it was worth the wait. Please let me know what you think in a comment!