I did not stop running until I had reached the small hill that overlooked the water meadows, a good two miles from the cottage. Let me tell you, running that far on the flimsy ballerina flats I had been wearing to the funeral was quite a feat. I stood still to give myself the opportunity to regain my breath, overlooking the fields of wildflowers that reached to the river. It was a gorgeous sight, the likes of which I hadn't seen since I left for London.

I made my way down the hill, careful not to slip or step into one of the many rabbit holes, and dropped down in the grass at the base, letting the folder I had been clutching to my chest fall down next to me.

The contents of that folder changed everything. Every single thing I thought I knew about Mam had been turned on its head, and I was struggling to find out what was up and what was down again.

My mother wasn't someone who payed a lot of attention to her daughters' milestones. Sure, there were the pictures she took of us while we grew up, but those dwindled so much that all photos of Mary and me fit in one album with room to spare. She didn't decorate our fridge with our children's drawings, and not even the three agency certificates I had earned-representing the end of our poverty at least- had ever been displayed.

I reached for the folder, pushed off the little elastic holding it closed. Making sense of the contents was close to impossible. Every single newspaper article that mentioned Lockwood and co since I had joined the agency. The papers had yellowed over time, and the edges of most of the cut outs curled, as if they had gone through my mother's hands multiple times before ending up in the folder.

I tried to imagine Mam sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by newspapers, with a pair of scissors in hand. The picture didn't want to form in my head. The mere thought felt too out of character for Mam. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the large tan envelope. It only just fit in the folder, and the corners were scrunched up a bit.

I had my suspicions about the contents of the envelope, but having them confirmed when I opened the flap still made me feel like I had been dunked in ice water. They were banknotes, dozens of them. I couldn't bring myself to take them out and count the money, but it wasn't hard to make a guess for the total amount. The flap was soft from all the times it had been opened and stuffed closed again and closing the envelope was easy. I put it back in the folder and tried to make sense of my emotions.

It was harder than I can describe. Confusion and regret battled in my mind, along with a sense of guilt so heavy it threatened to smother my thoughts. I let myself fall back against the base of the hill and closed my eyes. My chest felt heavy, and I longed to be back at 35 Portland Row, where I could hide out in my attic room when everything got too much and I needed a moment to myself.

The silence of the meadow was strange. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city - cars passing by, sirens going off in the distance, people talking- that the silence was almost unsettling. Only the rustling of the wind through the grass and distant birdcalls could be heard.

The weather was mild today. Not as warm as it had been the past few days, but the sun still shone through the clouds and warmed up the little town enough that I hadn't needed a jacket when I ran out. It was getting colder now though, and goose bumps crept up the skin of my arms and legs. I opened my eyes and saw that the sun had disappeared behind the deck of grey clouds that rolled in from the horizon. Right, I supposed it was time to get back.

I sat up, languidly stretching, when another chill washed over me.

"Lucy"

My heart stopped. I listened with my inner ear, but the disembodied voice was gone again, and for a moment I thought I'd imagined it.

"Luuuuccccyyy!"

There was no mistaking now. Someone, or perhaps something, was calling my name. I shot to my feet, desperately looking around, but I couldn't see anything. I shot another look at the sky. Had the sun actually disappeared between the clouds? Or was it starting to set?

That was the trouble with spring afternoons. While they weren't nearly as dangerous as those in winter, it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security. Despite the higher temperature, the sun still set early, and there weren't as many safe hours in a day as during midsummer. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the town's curfew bells toil, and I knew I was in trouble. While it was still light out, the quality of it was changing, and soon the Visitors would have free rein.

With a pounding heart, I reached for my rapier. My weapon wasn't hanging in its usual spot at my hip. After the funeral, we had gone right to organising Mam's affairs and I hadn't changed out of the clothes I had worn to church. This meant that I was still in my fluttery black dress, without my belt, and thus without my rapier. Utterly defenceless. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the air near the river shimmer, but when I turned to look it was gone.

"Lucy!"

Well, I was not going to wait for it to show up. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my thoughts. I put my emotions into a box to be shoved away on a shelf in the depths of my mind so I could focus on my surroundings. It would be too dangerous to let myself be distracted by them. After grabbing the folder, I started making my way up the hill. Another gust of wind made the skirt of my dress flutter and trailed more goose bumps over my arms in its wake. Suddenly I was reminded of the time I had taken a source back home on accident. The ghost tied to it had appeared in my bedroom and snuck up on me behind my back in the middle of the night.

The same feeling of dread I had felt then threatened to deafen my senses now, and it took all courage I could gather to shoot a look over my shoulder when I was halfway to the top of the hill. I couldn't see anything near the riverbanks, but when I turned back, a dark shape was rushing towards me along the bottom of the hill.

Biting back the cry that rose in my throat, I hastened my pace. I had outrun the visitor of these meadows back when I was a little girl, and I would do so again! Of course, back then I had been running on sturdy little boots that snugly fit to my feet, not flimsy ballerina flats that slipped off my heels every other running step…

I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

My next step was uneven, and my right foot was caught in a hole which sent me sprawling forward. The stupid shoe slipped off and rolled down the hill, but I was more concerned with the folder that fell open and spilled its contents across the grass. I had forgotten to place the elastics back over the corners. Ignoring my now bleeding knee, I scrambled to my feet and gathered the loose articles as fast as I could. The envelope was a little further ahead.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the dark shape moving towards me fast, now making its way up the hill.

My shoe I would happily leave behind, but I couldn't bring myself to do that to the envelope. Logically, I knew I wouldn't need the money if I got myself ghost-touched, but I refused to give up anything in there. I managed to grab a corner of the envelope, but I'd forgotten how easily the flap opened. The bank notes spilled out and fluttered to the ground like falling autumn leaves, and I realised I would have to leave them if I wanted to escape the form that was coming ever nearer. I choked on another cry, dropped the envelope, kicked off my other shoe and made to start running again.

A cold hand clasped my arm, and I screamed, fully expecting to feel the ice spread through my veins.

The hand jerked back immediately.

"Luce, it's me." Now that it was close enough to hear without the wind messing with the sound, I finally recognised the voice. I turned around slowly, to find Lockwood looking at me with wide eyes. His hair was messy, as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. The laces of his shoes were tied unevenly, and his long coat hung open. His rapier hung at his side, but it was skewed as if he'd attached it to his belt in a hurry. He held up his hands to show they were empty and spoke softly, as if he was talking to a wounded animal. In a way, I felt like one.

"It's okay, Lucy," he whispered. "Nothing's going to hurt you." I couldn't manage a reply. My vision was blurring, and I was shaking, rubbing at my bare arm as if that would drive away the cold that had enveloped me. That box of my emotions was teetering on the edge of the shelf in my mind. Lockwood took a careful step closer, slowly so that I could move away if I wanted to.

I didn't want to.

When Lockwood reached out - perhaps to touch my shoulder or brush loose strands of hair out of my face - the box came crashing down. I moved forward myself and buried my face in his shoulder.

If there's one thing I don't like, it's crying in front of other people. It can't always be avoided with my talent. It's easy for me to pick up a psychic connection and experience the emotions that come with it. Those emotions were a lot easier to shake off though.

I didn't even try to stop the sobs wracking my chest. The past few days had been too much, and after adding the afternoon's emotional rollercoaster to the tumult, I felt I had earned the right to cry for a while. After a moment, Lockwood's arms snaked around my waist, and he pulled me a little closer. He was a strong, warm presence, and for some reason that made me cry even harder.

I'm not sure how long we stood there like that, but it felt like both hours and only seconds passed. I blubbered into Lockwood's shoulder, and he held me without so much as a comment, rubbing little circles in between my shoulder blades with the heel of his palm. Eventually the sobs died down, and with some effort I could draw air deep into my lungs again.

Still, I waited a moment before stepping away, not wanting to pull back from his warmth. Lockwood was looking at me wide eyed, but I avoided his gaze and rubbed at my damp face. This did nothing but smear out the traces of make up my tears had streaked down my cheeks. I stood there awkwardly, trying to make myself look somewhat presentable again (and utterly failing) until Lockwood fished a packet of tissues out of one of the many pockets of his coat.

I turned away from him, blew my nose and wiped away the last tear tracks. There were some black smears of mascara on the tissue, and I assumed on my face, but I couldn't do anything about that effectively until I could actually see what I was doing.

"Lucy, what is all this?" Lockwood asked. In the time it took me to clean myself up a bit, he had picked up the folder and the envelope. He had started to gather the money that had fallen out of the envelope when I panicked. I was unsure of how to answer him at first. I didn't quite understand yet myself.

"Is this your part of the inheritance?" he tried again, slipping the last 100-pound note back into the envelope.

"No, it isn't," I started, but then found I couldn't continue. The burning feeling in my nose that always preceded tears started up again, and I sniffed to try to clear it away. Lockwood looked at me, a frown on his face, and I quickly averted my eyes. There was something about the way he was looking at me, the way he furrowed his eyebrows or how he narrowed his eyes that made me feel vulnerable. It was as if that one look was enough for him to figure me out entirely, and I felt like I had been placed underneath a microscope.

"I think that's all of it," Lockwood said after a beat of silence,, taking the hint and not continuing his line of questioning. He licked his thumb, swiped it across the glue line of the flap and sealed the envelope before handing it to me. "Safer that way. We really should be getting back though, your sisters are worried sick."

"Oh, I'm sure they're having kittens," I muttered. I took the envelope from him and went hunting for my shoes. The left one was nearby, but I had to walk back down the hill to find the other one. It was good to have the distraction though. Now that the shock and panic were gone, I was mentally steeling myself for Lockwood to be angry with me. He was probably very disappointed with my actions. And rightfully so, going out unarmed was such a rookie mistake; even little Emma wouldn't have made it.

"Luce, we need to go!" Lockwood called. "There's something stirring near the river!" I glanced over my shoulder; saw the shimmering near the banks again. Lockwood kept a close eye on me as we left the water meadows behind, but made sure we kept up a fast pace.

When we were halfway to town again, I slowed down so that Lockwood walked ahead of me. There was little danger of ghosts here, and I'd be able to hear them coming far in advance, even if they tried sneaking up on us.

"I wrote Mam every week when I first came to London," I started. "I told her about everything I'd seen, how all the job interviews went and when you hired me, all about you and George." I took a deep breath, trying to break the band that seemed to have wrapped itself around my ribcage. "She didn't answer any of them, so I stopped writing so often. I thought she was just mad at me, for running away like that. She had a right to be, I was the breadwinner of our household and I had abandoned her."

"Lucy…" Lockwood started, but his voice trailed off as if he didn't know what to say. He turned around to look at me, but I kept my gaze trained on the road. Just like in the tunnels underneath Aickmere's department store, it was easier to talk to him without looking at his face.

"I thought if I sent her some money, she might..." my voice shook, and I swallowed. "I sent her cheque each ¬month, with whatever amount of money I could miss. At first I sent letters along with them, but she still never answered them, so I stopped writing her, eventually. She cashed all the cheques, and all this time I thought she was spending all of it like she used too… All this time I thought she only cared about me for the money…"

New tears welled up, and I rubbed them away with an irritated gesture.

"She died, and I didn't even cry at her funeral… What kind of person am I?" Suddenly Lockwood was close again. He brought a hand up to my cheek and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb.

"It's okay," he whispered.

"She was my mother."

"You are allowed to have mixed emotions about this, Luce…" I bit my lip and fought back new tears.

"All those articles" I managed, "All those articles and three thousand pounds…"

"Just because she gave you this, doesn't mean she didn't ignore you for the past two years, Lucy. You have the right to feel upset with her, still." He stroked his thumb across my cheekbone, and I couldn't hold back a little shudder. Lockwood pulled his hand back as if he had been burned.

"We should get going," I whispered, keeping my gaze trained on the ground. I crossed my arms across my chest and rubbed at the bare skin. The hairs on my arms were standing on end, but it was not just from the cold.

Something heavy and warm was wrapped around my shoulders, and I looked up to find Lockwood adjusting his coat around me.

"You're cold," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "You only have a short-sleeved dress on, I've got a shirt and a jacket. It's fine." I closed my mouth again.

When we got to the house, I noticed a few things. First, the cars were gone. We had taken up quite some space on the road in front of the cottage, with all the cars needed to transport our entire family.

The second thing was that the defences against the supernatural were already firmly in place. The lavender candles in the window had been lit, and I could hear the sound of running water coming from the runnel. My friends seemed to pay no attention to the looming threat of darkness though. Holly, George and Kipps were waiting for us at the porch, quietly looking out into the street. Holly was the first one to see us, and she rushed towards us. The boys followed on her heels.

"Oh Lucy, I'm so glad you're all right!" Holly said, and she grabbed my hands. "You had us worried there! When we couldn't find you and your rapier was still in the hall…" If she had said something like that before I had come back to Lockwood and Co, I probably would've been annoyed, but I knew it wasn't meant to be a jab at me. She was worried.

"I'm sorry," I replied, and pulled my hands back. "I needed some air, and I didn't realise how late it was…"

Holly tutted, but made no other comment. I gave her a weak smile and walked past her, past George and Kipps towards the door.

"Where did you find her, Lockwood?" Kipps asked as they followed me. "She wasn't anywhere in town, was she? I thought we'd checked everywhere…"

"She was near the river," Lockwood answered as I unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

I ran straight into Mary. Her eyes were red rimmed and her hair messy, but her face lit up when she recognised me.

"Oh, thank god!" She cried before throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tightly. Over her shoulder I could see Judith, Rebecca and Grace standing a little further down the hallway. They really weren't looking much better. Guilt bubbled up in my chest when their features flooded with relief.

It drained away just as quickly when Judith opened her mouth.

"What. Is. Wrong. With. You?!" she bit out, and I pulled away from Mary. I was about to reply when Grace jumped in. They were upset with me because I had scared them, I knew that, but that didn't make taking their sermon any easier.

"How could you do that? You know what happens when you go out after curfew!" She put her hands on her hips and leant forward, almost threateningly. I had half a mind to turn around and leave again, but I was sandwiched in between my sisters and my friends, who were standing behind me awkwardly. Instead, I pulled the edges of Lockwood's coat a little tighter around me and let them shout.

"Grace, Judith, come on… Lucy just-" Mary's meek defence of me was cut off as soon as she'd started it.

"She's an agent, she knows what happens if you go out unprotected!" Judith protested at the same time that Grace said, "Wasn't it bad enough that we had to bury Mam today?"

They probably would have gone on for longer – I didn't have the energy to stop them and defend myself – but then Lockwood did something that was equal parts brave and stupid. He stepped forward, so he was standing next to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and told them off.

"This has been an emotional day for all, of you. Lucy made a mistake, yes, but nothing happened."

"She's bleeding," Rebecca remarked, and gestured at my skinned knee. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten all about it.

"I stepped into a rabbit hole," I said softly. It was the truth, even if I was actually embellishing some events leading up to it. Mary winced in sympathy. She'd broken her ankle by doing the same thing when she was nine.

"As her boss, I have reprimanded Lucy for her actions already, and I don't think it is necessary for you to go over it again." Lockwood shot them a look that wasn't quite a glare, but something in his face showed that he would not accept contradiction.

Judith pressed her lips together tightly and Grace grimaced, but by some miracle, they did not protest.

"Quill, George, could you please walk Mary and Grace home? Holly and I will patch Lucy back up." With that he gently helped me out of his coat, and while George and Kipps accompanied Mary outside, he guided me to the kitchen after Holly.

A/N: There's a tiny bit of locklyle in here so does it count for a valentine's fic? I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, please let me know what you think!