Work Text:
“The fuck are you doing here?”
Quill looked up, startled. He’d just popped round the chemist to pick up some things for his nan and her new husband, Byron. Never in a million years had he expected to run into Lucy Carlyle in this quiet little village.
He glanced down at his bag and then back up at her. “Running errands. What are you doing here?”
Lucy huffed, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I live here- lived here.”
Of all the places his grandmother had to move to, of course it would be the hometown of one of Quill’s former rivals. Not for the first time, he cursed his luck.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” he said, hoping Lucy wouldn’t think he was following her—again. “My nan just moved here, I’m helping her get settled in.”
“Why would anyone move here ?” Lucy asked, disgust evident in her tone. Quill couldn’t blame her; he’d left a similar, boring town for the bright lights of London.
“Her new husband’s family is all here,” he explained. “They wanted to be close to his grandkids.”
Any normal person would have accepted the answer and moved on politely. Lucy Carlyle, however, was not normal. “Who’s her husband?”
“Byron Dunford.”
Her face darkened. “Oh. Alright.”
“Should I be concerned about him?” Quill hadn’t actually met him before he and Nan eloped, but he seemed nice enough.
Lucy shrugged. “Dunno Mr. Dunford very well. His grandkids are awful, though.”
That made Quill laugh. “Well, I’ll try not to interact with any of them, then.”
“Good.” Lucy glanced around the town square, eyes following the other passersby with far too much suspicion than Quill was comfortable with. It didn’t help that these strangers were staring at Lucy right back, whispering behind their hands or picking up speed when they saw her. He was starting to think she left for worse reasons than boredom.
“Which way are you headed?” Quill asked. Nan would understand his tardiness if he escorted a young woman home.
“Er.” Lucy frowned. “I suppose the station.”
Quill wasn’t entirely sure there was a train to London this late in the day. Night trains were rare and expensive and tended to not stop between cities. “Leaving already?” He asked.
“No.” Lucy shook her head. “But there’s enough iron around that it’s a safe place to crash.”
If this was Lucy’s hometown, surely there was someone she could stay with? Quill was almost certain she’d mentioned a living mother at least once. Why was she even here, if not to visit her family?
“You’re going to…sleep at the station?” He asked, fighting the incredulity that threatened to seep into his voice. “Surely the inn’s got a few vacancies.”
“Of course it does,” Lucy scoffed. “No one comes here. But the innkeeper hates me and-” She cut herself off, teeth clacking loudly as she closed her mouth.
“And?” Quill shouldn’t pry…but he was so curious.
“And…I don’t want to run into Mam.”
Quill was dying to know more. He had so many questions on the tip of his tongue, but the hardened look in Lucy’s eyes gave him pause. Instead, he just sighed and said, “You can’t sleep at the station. It’s dangerous.”
Lucy snorted. “There’s no Visitors there. It’s been cleaned out and salted.”
“You know things are getting worse,” Quill said in an undertone. “This winter has been…”
“I know.” Lucy looked down. “Look, worst comes to worst, I’ll have to fight a ghost or two, have a little family reunion…” At his raised eyebrow, she added. “My dad fell under a train, when I was young. Drunk.”
Christ, was she really going to sleep in an open-air station right by where her father died ? Quill was suddenly grateful she’d turned down his offer to join his team. He was certain this girl would send him to an early grave.
“No,” he said sternly. “Not happening. You’re sleeping on my nan’s sofa.”
Lucy grimaced. “Look, I’m sure she’s a nice lady, but Byron…”
“Is he that bad?” Quill snapped. “If he’s some sort of monster, tell me now so I can get my grandmother out of there.”
“It’s not that,” Lucy said softly. “It’s just…everyone hates me here.”
And oh Quill wanted to ask. Instead he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her down the pavement ahead of him, marching towards his nan’s house. “I doubt they hate you enough to want to deal with your bloated, ghost-touched corpse in the middle of their train station, Carlyle.”
“You’d be surprised,” she muttered, but allowed him to take her rucksack and lead her away from the town square.
“Why are you even here?” Quill asked. “I ran into Tony last week, he said you’re all booked solid.”
“He made me take some time off,” Lucy explained, as if a holiday was the worst punishment in the world. “I wanted to visit my friend, but…”
“But?” They were fast approaching the little cottage Byron owned. Nan kept referring to it as their “honeymoon suite,” which put Quill off his breakfast. Still, he had to admit it was a sweet little thing, with a beautiful garden for Nan to spend her days in. He held open the gate for Lucy, who looked up at the house with the same determination she had when crossing over the threshold of a haunted building.
“Her parents wouldn’t let me,” Lucy finished with a sigh. “Even they blame me now…”
Quill led her through the front door, pondering her words. He’d thought she’d been joking, or exaggerating, when she said the town hated her. Kids did annoying things all the time, especially agents when they got their first taste of freedom or victory in the field. He’d hoped she and her friends had defaced a statue or stole someone’s sheep on a dare. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Quilly, is that you?” Nan called from the kitchen. “You’ve been gone so long, I thought you got lost!”
“Not lost,” Quill called back. “Just ran into a friend.”
“A friend?” Nan came into the sitting room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her eyes lit up as they landed on Lucy. “Oh, a lady friend.”
“Er.” Lucy gave an awkward half-wave. “I’m sorry for intruding-”
“Nonsense!” Nan closed in on Lucy, grin broad and toothy. “Any friend of my Quill’s is welcome here.”
“This is Lucy,” Quill said, ignoring the panic in Lucy’s eyes as Nan fussed over her. “She’s an associate from London and needs a place to stay tonight. I told her she could kip down on your sofa.”
“Of course!” Nan patted Lucy’s shoulder. “Come in, both of you, I’ve just popped some scones in the oven, they’ll be out in no time.”
Quill bit back a laugh and steered Lucy into the kitchen, forcing her to sit at the little table as Nan filled up the kettle. Lucy sat ramrod straight, glancing around as if Nan’s horrible collection of nicknacks would attack her.
“So what’s a big city girl doing in a place like this?” Nan asked as she lit the stove.
“Oh, actually.” Lucy cleared her throat. “This is my hometown. I moved to London for work.”
“A local!” Nan busied herself with putting out an assortment of biscuits and other sweets, as if Quill had brought home an entire football team instead of one girl. “Everyone must be so proud of you. Are you also at Fittes?”
Quill covered his laugh with a cough. Lucy shot him a nasty look. “No, ma’am. I’m with an independent agency, Lockwood & Co.”
“Not for a lack of trying on my part,” Quill said to make it up to her. “Lucy’s one of the best agents I’ve ever seen. I’ve been trying to get her on my team for ages now.”
She gave him a surprised look, but did not contradict him. It was true he’d made a couple half-hearted attempts to recruit her in recent months, but that was mostly just to annoy Tony. He knew Lucy would never leave Lockwood.
“Well, try harder,” Nan said, pinching his cheek in admonishment. “You can’t just let a beautiful girl go.”
“ Ow ,” Quill said, pulling away from his grandmother. Lucy laughed softly at his pain.
“It’s not his fault, ma’am,” she said. “I just really like where I am.”
“Well, that’s alright I suppose,” Nan said with a smile. “I’d hate to think my Quilly was lowballing you.”
“I would never,” Quill gasped in mock offense.
Before Lucy could retaliate and say he would , the front door opened and closed, signaling the arrival of Byron. Lucy stiffened again, hands clutched tightly in her lap. Nan didn’t seem to notice as she pulled the singing kettle from the stove.
“Quill, have you got my cream- oh, hello there.” Byron popped his head through the kitchen door, eyes landing on Lucy almost immediately. “Didn’t know we had company.”
“Mr. Dunford,” Lucy greeted. “Nice to see you.”
Byron glanced between Lucy and Quill, putting the pieces together quickly. Quill had to give the old man credit; he was sharp as a tack.
“Nice to see you as well, Lucy,” he said. “A friend of yours, Quill?”
Quill nodded. “Yes, an associate from London.”
“So you did make it to London, then,” Byron said, sitting down at the table across from Lucy. “That’s good. When I heard you’d gone missing, I was a bit worried.”
“Worried?” Lucy quirked an eyebrow.
“Of course!” Byron sounded almost offended. He grabbed a biscuit off the tray and snapped it in half, popping a section into his mouth. “You’re so young. If any of my grandkids tried to go off on their own like that…”
Quill knew that none of Byron’s grandkids were agents. They still attended school and lived normal lives. It was silly to think any of them could have the independence of someone who faced down death every night.
“Oh.” Lucy looked down at her lap. “I didn’t realize people knew I’d gone.”
“Of course we did,” Byron continued. Nan placed a cup of tea in front of him and he smiled up at her with disgustingly loving eyes. “After what happened at the mill…such an awful tragedy.”
Lucy visibly tensed. Under the table, Quill reached out and squeezed her hand briefly. She relaxed a little and shot him a small smile.
“But you’ve made it to London!” Byron’s tone grew cheerier, for which Quill was grateful. “Are you at Fittes with our Quill?”
“No, she’s smarter than that,” Nan said, doling out tea to Lucy and Quill. She gave Lucy a conspiratorial wink. Lucy grinned.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Quill muttered. Lucy kicked him under the table.
“Smarter than you,” she said.
He rolled his eyes. “Fittes is clearly the better career choice. You’re just in love with Tony.”
It was a calculated move, one that worked to his advantage. Nan’s entire face lit up at the mention of an office romance and Lucy looked like she might throttle Quill in his sleep. He would just have to lock the guest room door tonight.
The afternoon quickly faded to evening as Nan interrogated Lucy about her love life. Byron watched his wife with fond adoration, occasionally clapping Quill on the shoulder when the women laughed at something or another. Tea bled into supper which bled into wine and dessert, and Quill found himself half-asleep on the sofa, listening to Lucy regale Nan and Byron with some of her tales from working at Lockwood & Co. This one, unfortunately, centered around his own stupid pissing contest with Lockwood.
“Really, I thought it was a scare tactic more than anything,” she was saying, nudging Quill in the ribs. “Having him try to poach me out of nowhere. Like he thought it would mess up our team dynamics and his crew could win.”
“Penelope Fittes wants you,” Quill said through a yawn. “Not my fault it coincided with that stupid bet.”
“The coffee? The ball?” Lucy teased. “Did Penelope tell you to ask me out as well?”
He’d had just enough wine to not let her words embarrass him. Nan was guffawing loudly and even Byron was snickering behind his hand. “I knew Tony only stood a chance of winning if you were on his team. I had to do something .”
“Unbelievable,” Lucy said with a sigh. “First time a boy asked me out and it was part of a ploy.”
“First time?” Quill found that unbelievable. “You’re lying.”
“Am not.”
“Boys are idiots,” Nan lamented. “A pretty girl like you should be beating them back with a stick.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s Tony’s job now,” Quill teased. Lucy elbowed him in the ribs.
They fell into a sleepy, comfortable silence. With a yawn, Byron stood and helped Nan out of her chair. “You kids don’t mind us,” he said, patting his wife’s hand. “Us old folks need to head off to bed now. Goodnight, Quill, Lucy.”
“Night,” Quill said, waving them off.
“Thank you for letting me stay,” Lucy said for the hundredth time.
Nan smiled at her. “Of course, dear.”
His grandparents departed and Quill sank back into the sofa cushions, eyes falling shut. He was warm and tired and very much didn’t want to stand up until morning.
“You can take the guest bed,” he muttered to Lucy. “I’m about to pass out here.”
“I can’t take your bed, Quill,” Lucy said.
“The sheets are clean,” he said. “And your options are take the empty bed or share this sofa with me.”
She snorted. “Alright. Thanks.”
“‘Course,” he slurred.
“I’m serious,” Lucy said softly. “Thanks for bringing me here. I wasn’t keen on the station.”
Quill cracked one eye open to look at her. In the low, golden lamplight he could see how tired she was, circles dark and deep beneath her eyes. This winter had taken a toll on all of them, but he wasn’t sure this trip had been the best use of her holiday.
“Your friend…” He started, unsure of how to continue. “She couldn’t sneak out to see you? Or convince her parents?”
Lucy’s mouth quirked into a frown for a moment. She shook her head. “She’s…she’s ghostlocked. Has been since the mill.”
There was that mill incident again. Quill could guess it was a job gone wrong, the blame placed on a young agent instead of any of the adults involved. It didn’t happen much at Fittes, with all its procedures and oversight, but he’d heard horror stories from other agencies, even Rotwell.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Lucy shrugged. “It’s not like I could do much, anyways. Just…talk at her, hope she hears. Not sure she’d even want to hear me. Not when I failed her…failed all of them.”
Quill didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know the specifics, but he was certain whatever happened wasn’t her fault. Lucy had saved his life, had probably kept Lockwood and Karim alive at some point. So lost in thought, he almost missed when she began speaking again.
“You know, I have six older sisters. Most of them still live here. Mam, too. And I couldn’t ask a single one of them to take me in for the night. No one wants anything to do with me.” She sighed, sounding more tired than upset.
“Did you try asking?” Quill opened both eyes now. “Maybe one of them would surprise you.”
Lucy shook her head. “I couldn’t handle it if…if none of them…”
“You didn’t want to confirm your suspicions,” Quill finished for her. She nodded. “Well, Nan loves you. I think she’d replace me with you in a heartbeat.” Lucy scoffed. “I’m serious. She’s already planning on how to adopt you. And Byron seems to like you as well.”
“He’s just being kind,” Lucy whispered. “They both are.”
“And if they are?” Lucy looked at him with confusion. Quill shrugged at her. “You deserve a little kindness.”
“I don’t deserve it.” She glanced around at the sitting room, at the family photos and dusty nicknacks and yellow-paged books. It was a warm house, full of love; Quill didn’t like how foreign it seemed to her.
“You do,” he said simply. “Because I said so.”
“You’re not my boss,” she said, almost teasing.
Quill snorted. “Again, not from a lack of trying. But I doubt Tony would disagree with me.”
“Perhaps.” Lucy stretched her arms over her head. “It would be nice if you two could agree on something.”
“We’ll agree that you deserve kindness,” Quill said. “And that Karim needs to wear trousers that fit.”
Lucy laughed and patted his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “You’re nicer than you pretend to be, Kipps,” she said.
“Am not,” Quill yawned. Lucy stood and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the sofa. With a flick of her wrists, she had it draped over him, though it was too short to fully cover his legs.
“Sure,” she said, tone indicating she did not agree. “Goodnight, Kipps. And thank you.”
“G’night,” Quill said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“If I find bedbugs, I get the sofa,” she said. “You can get all bit up.”
“Good night , Lucy,” Quill said and she laughed. The sound followed her all the way up the stairs, until she was gone.
In the morning, Quill would insist on accompanying her to the train station. She wouldn’t thank him for his chivalry, but she would call him a wanker and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, and that was more than enough.