A/N: If you like to listen to music while you read, then I really recommend playing this song () after the first page break since I can promise it will improve your reading experience significantly. However, you should probably turn it off as soon as the next page break comes around, otherwise, the juxtaposition between the music and the text might give you whiplash.

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Despite apparently standing amidst a fog made of ectoplasm, Mary Carlyle was, quite honestly, bored.

At the start of their night, she'd been frightened, sure. With pure darkness enveloping her, every breaking twig had made her jump. It wasn't that she wasn't brave, or that she was a very fearful girl overall - no, it was more the knowledge that, should any danger arise, she wouldn't even be able to sense it.

There was a certain horror in this realisation: She could walk straight into a ghost, arms open wide, and not feel a thing until it was too late.

It was this helplessness that made her stomach turn.

However, now that she was safely standing inside of an iron circle, there really wasn't much to be afraid of. To be fair though, Mary wasn't sure it would have even been possible to feel scared with Anthony Lockwood and George Karim bickering overhead, whatever the circumstances.

"So, fake-relationship, eh?" George just asked Lockwood with a gleeful grin on his face, and Mary had to admit that she liked this guy.

"Yes. Just to protect Lucy from Jacobs and his brother, of course," Lockwood stated matter of factly, but even if George couldn't see the tension in his face, Mary very well could.

That was a definite upside to her predicament: The very fact that she had no discernable talent also meant that her vision wasn't blocked by the apparent fog the other three agents had talked about. She couldn't even see it. No, all Mary saw was a slight shimmer in the air where the fog probably was and three people standing dumbstruck in the road.

"Oh, come on, Lockwood," George shouted, a bit too loud for Mary's taste. "Lucy can't hear us if you're scared of that. My theory is that as much as the fog clouds our vision, it also clouds our hearing - if we have the correlating ability, that is."

Lockwood seemed to think about that for a few seconds. "Lucy?" He finally called out, testing out George's theory.

No answer came.

"She's just standing there, wide-eyed," Mary supplied. "She hears something, that's for sure, but not us."

"You see?" George called out to Lockwood again. "I mean, my listening isn't all that great, and even my hearing is slightly impacted. Lucy won't be able to hear anything from any of us right now until the fog lifts."

It unnerved Mary that Lockwood and George, albeit being turned in each other's direction, didn't directly look at each other. Lockwood had directed his eyes a bit too much to the left, George a bit too much to the right.

With a shake of her head, she looked down to where the tea and biscuits were standing. They had told her about the 'biscuit-rule' on their way here, that apparently being more important than basic ghost-fighting strategy. But would they really notice if she took one out of turn? It would be quite the risk actually to try and sneak one out because she hadn't been able to make sure yet that all of the cookies were nut-free - which they would need to be if she didn't want to end up having to stab herself with pure adrenaline. But, then again, that definitely would solve her boredom.

"Alright," George continued, "so, about this fake-relationship..."

"Oh, shut up," came Lockwood's answer.

"I haven't even said anything yet."

"Yes, and I want to keep it that way. Especially since..." The meaningful gesture he made with his head was certainly lost on George, but not on Mary.

"Oh, is this about me?" She asked. "Yeah, I already figured you fancy her. Isn't really that hard to see."

George laughed. "You know, you've got to tell her one day, Lockwood. You might as well just use this opportunity."

Mary could see Lockwood's jaw clench. "You know that it isn't this simple."

"It very well is!" George cried out. "You like her. You ask her out on a date. That's how simple it is."

"Oh, and you're suddenly the local dating-expert? Last time I checked, you still hide liquorice for Flo and sneak off before she can catch you."

Mary followed the exchange with great interest. This agency was a mess for sure, but by God, it was an amusing one. She could also use this time to further inspect the boy who would, undoubtedly, sooner or later be her sister's boyfriend. He was cute, Mary had to give Lucy that. And if the way that he was looking at Lucy every time her sister paid no attention held true, Lockwood was already alright in Mary's books. As funny as watching George and Lockwood bicker was, however, it would surely be better with a biscuit in her mouth.

"Hey!" George retaliated right now. "I do not run off-"

"Remember to smile, George! We don't want you to get too aggravated during an active haunting!" Lockwood laughed, and Mary swore she could see murder in George's eyes.

He did, however, transform his face into a strained smile. "I do not run off before she can catch me," he spat out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, you so do! And do you really think that I don't see all those random heron facts on the thinking cloth?"

"So what? They're nice birds!"

Amidst the shouting, Mary took her chance and tried going for a biscuit.

"And do not even think about breaking the biscuit rule, Mary!" George smiled brightly at her. "My hearing might be busted right now, but don't think I can't still feel you getting close to that package!"

Mary froze mid-movement. How the fuck did he know? She wanted to say something, but at that moment, her sister caught her eye.

Something seemed... off with her. She was standing now with her back facing Mary, staring off into the distance. Mary couldn't see her face, but something about her posture was wrong. It was too stiff, too... frightened. Too pained.

Was that blood coming out of her ears?

"Guys?" Mary shouted, concerned, but George and Lockwood's argument had grown too passively-aggressively heated to pay her any mind.

"As if you're one to talk about sneaking off, mate!" George just shouted in an overly happy singsong-voice. "Remember that one time you told Lucy that she was attractive and then you just... ran out of the house? Not even just out of the room but out of the damn house? For hours? It's a miracle she hasn't caught on yet!"

"Guys!" Mary shouted, but yet again, she was overheard.

"I don't know what you're talking about. And now, let's change the topic," Lockwood called out. "The fog's receding. Lucy might hear us any minute now."

"Lockwood, George!" Mary screamed, desperate to be heard by now. "Listen to me! I think something's wrong with Lucy, she's-"

"Lockwood!" This time it was Lucy herself that interrupted Mary.

Mary's eyes shot to her again. She was still facing the treeline, staring directly at it, eyes fixed on something. Mary followed her gaze, but whatever it was that had caught Lucy's attention, she couldn't see it.

"I'm here, Luce!" Lockwood answered her in a calm voice, a bit louder than necessary, probably for her sake. "Can you hear us again?"

Silence followed, and Mary nearly thought that Lucy wasn't going to say anything in response until she suddenly started screaming.

"Lockwood!" It was a desperate, pleading cry of her colleague's name, and it made Mary's blood run cold.

She could see that it had much the same effect on the one whose name she had called.

"I'm here, Lucy! What's wrong? Mary, is something hurting her?" He was straining the limits of his circle now, apparently wanting to get as close to Lucy as possible.

"I... I'm not sure," Mary answered, panic slowing her voice down. "She's... unsheathing her rapier right now and... she's... hunched over. I think she's in pain."

Mary could hear Lockwood draw his own rapier. "Alright, I'm switching over to her circle."

"Lockwood, stop!" George called out. "The fog hasn't gone yet. If you try to cross over now, the ectoplasm is going to get on your skin! Lucy will be fine as long as she stays in the damn circle."

Mary's breath faltered at the sight before her. "Lucy!" she screamed for her sister, but of course, it was pointless. Her sister couldn't hear her.

"What happened?" Lockwood asked, dread evident in his voice.

"You know that thing about her being safe as long as she's not leaving the circle? Yeah, she just bolted straight out of it."

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Lockwood didn't really need to think about his decision: It was made for him the second Lucy had left her circle. Rapier swinging wildly in front of him, he jumped over his own iron chains, the cold greeting him the second his feet touched the ground on the other side.

However, being the one in the group with the best sight had one fatal disadvantage right now: He was also the one for whom the fog was thickest.

He whipped his head back and forth, trying to catch some glimpse of Lucy, some hint of which direction she might've taken... and there! A flash of blue in the distance. Lucy.

Quickly, he stormed off after her, blindly stumbling through the fog with his blade slicing a path for him. Where the hell was she going? And why so goddamn fast? For a short moment, he considered whether she might be ghost-locked, but then again, ghost-locked people weren't really known for sprinting off somewhere. But if she wasn't doing it because of ghost-lock, then why?

It took him longer than he wanted to find his way out of the fog. By the time he could finally make out the treeline, his blood was pounding in his ears, and he breathing hard.

Where was she?

It was by pure luck that Lockwood saw her then: A small blue silhouette vanishing beyond the trees. The sight filled him with relief until he could finally see why she was running: Lucy was chasing something. Something that omitted a suspiciously cold light. Other-light, to be exact. She was chasing a ghost.

His mind instantly replayed the last few minutes whilst his legs were already in motion, trying to gain some ground on her before he lost her in-between the trees.

She had called out his name twice when she had still been standing in the iron circle. Up until now, Lockwood had assumed that she had been screaming for his help, but what if it was quite the opposite? What if Lucy had seen something that had led her to believe he was the one in danger, that he was the one she needed to run after to save?

What if she'd fallen prey to a fetch?

She wouldn't have heard him answer her through the fog, after all.

The thought made Lockwood's breath falter in his lungs. A fetch was a Type Two ghost, and a dangerous one at that. Once they had isolated their victims and lured them away with the face of a loved one, they were quick to kill.

"Lucy!" he screamed, but she didn't reappear from the trees.

Lockwood willed his legs to move even faster, to cover more ground quicker.

He had to get to her in time.

But what if he didn't?

He couldn't bear the thought.

If only he'd reached out to her when she had first called out his name; if only he'd just been faster, louder. If only he'd insisted on both of them sharing an iron circle right from the start after witnessing how the fog impacted her hearing.

He burst through the treeline and immediately scanned the area for something blue, something that belonged to her.

"Lucy, where are you?" He called out again, in the hopes that having left the fog now, she would be able to hear him.

Seconds later, he heard the scream.

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Despite the pain they had caused her, Lucy barely registered that the screams stopped once she broke free of the fog.

A loud ringing in her ears took their place, another pain she had to store for later. Harder to ignore was the growing pain in her left leg: It seemed to hurt more with every step, and Lucy knew that if it wasn't for the adrenaline coursing through her body, it most likely wouldn't still be able to carry her weight. She must've twisted it somewhen earlier in her run, right when she had stepped out of the circle.

But all of that wasn't important now: The only objective in Lucy's mind was to somehow reach Lockwood before the girl could lure him away into the moor. She could see him more clearly now, how his coat was illuminated by the ghost's other-light. It appeared much too close to Lockwood, which only spurred Lucy on to run even faster.

Soon, she broke through the treeline. For a few seconds, she felt disoriented between all these trees, and she nearly thought she might've lost them - until she saw a blueish light quickly growing dimmer and dimmer northbound.

Again, she started sprinting, her left leg nearly buckling now. She had given up shouting Lockwood's name, instead opting to save her breath for running, and it paid off now.

She found them, a few moments later: The boy and the ghost, standing together in the middle of a small clearing filled with mud.

Lockwood's back was still turned towards her so that she couldn't see his face, but what she could see was already horrifying enough: The ghost of the girl, drifting closer and closer to Lockwood without him moving even an inch.

Quickly, she raised her rapier and positioned herself protectively in front of Lockwood.

"Leave him alone," she wanted to spit out, but now that she was really looking at the girl, her conviction crumbled instantly.

It was Norrie. Norrie in her favourite summer dress that she'd always worn.

A sob escaped Lucy's tired mind. She let her rapier sink.

"Norrie."

It was really her, in every detail she so excruciatingly remembered. There was even the tiny scar above her eyebrow she had Lucy's clumsiness to thank for. The only thing keeping Lucy from throwing herself into the girl's arms was the other-light still being emitted by her.

Tears escaped her eyes at the realization of what that implicated.

"How-" It was a strangled noise coming out of her throat.

Norrie smiled at her, seemingly recognizing her as well. But it was a sad smile. "Lucy. I've been hoping you would come back for a while now. So that I could say goodbye."

"Say goodbye?"

"I'm dead, Lucy." It was a pitying tone in which she spoke.

Lucy shook her head. "No. No, you're not. You're ghost-locked. But you're going to wake up. You're going to... come back."

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Lucy." Norrie started floating closer to Lucy, and she let her. "My body is still there, yes, but that's only a question of time. I died that night in the Mill. I never left it."

"But what about-"

"Lucy!"

She broke off, thrown off by the shout interrupting her. Had that been Lockwood's voice? But why had his voice sounded so far away? Was her hearing still busted? Or had the screams ruptured her eardrums? She wanted to look back at the ghost-locked Lockwood behind her, to see if he had really broken free from his rigidity already, but Norrie kept her from doing so.

"Don't worry," she said with a smile, "your friend here is fine. He wanted to step out into the fog, you know? Pretty reckless, this one. I had to lead him away to his own safety. And I knew that you would follow him here, where we can talk without your colleagues throwing salt bombs and flares at me."

She laughed, but Lucy cried. "Of course, we can talk. We can always talk, Norrie. It's all I've wanted to do, to talk to you again."

Norrie's face was serious all of the sudden. "Then why didn't you save me?"

"What are you talking about?"

She laughed humourlessly, all the happiness in her face now exchanged for harshness. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You could have saved me, that night. You could have saved us. But instead, you ran away."

Lucy shook her head, slowly, dazed. "That's not true. Norrie- I tried to help you. I really did. It was too late."

"Is that what you tell yourself? No, you ran away to Jacobs when we needed you most. And then you couldn't even be convincing enough to get him to evacuate us."

"No, Norrie-" Lucy was sobbing now, rapier dangling loosely from her hand as the ghost drew closer and closer. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But I really tried to save you, please believe me!"

Norrie's tone was bitter. "Maybe I would believe you if you hadn't run away to London the first chance you got. If you wouldn't be running around laughing with your new friends right now as if we never even existed. You stole all that from me, you know?"

Her words made her go still for the first time in minutes. Something was... wrong, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Only now did she realize how close Norrie had gotten to her and Lockwood. Only now did she realize how much she had let her rapier sink.

Then it came to her: Those had been the exact same words Lucy had said back when she had told Lockwood about her guilt regarding Norrie. She had explained to Lockwood that sometimes, she felt as though she had stolen what should have been Norrie's.

"How do you know what I said to Lockwood?" she asked, voice small, wavering.

This was when the ghost made a mistake: It tilted its head ever so slightly to the side, and Lucy could see the hollowness hiding behind Norrie's face. It was a mask. The ghost was a fetch.

Lucy raised her rapier immediately, keeping the ghost at arm's length. "You're not Norrie."

The ghost looked at her with sad eyes. "I am what she would be. What she will be, once her body gives out. And it's your fault."

Bile started to form in Lucy's mouth, but she worked hard to keep it down, to keep her head clear of the pure desperation the fetch projected onto her.

"Lockwood," she whispered to the boy behind her without looking at him, "are you able to run right now?"

A pained moan came as an answer, and even though Lucy's mind reeled with what possible injuries he might have, she didn't dare to take her eyes off the fetch to look at him. Still, she had never been gladder to hear him answer her.

"Alright, I know you're hurting, but we need to run. On my count, alright?"

This time, he didn't make any sounds, but she could feel him shifting his weight close to her.

The fetch was laughing heartily now, floating closer and closer. Lucy needed to make this quick.

"Here, use me as a crutch," she uttered in Lockwood's direction and was just about to take that step into him when she heard another voice calling.

"Lucy! Where are you?"

She froze. Lockwood. That had undoubtedly been Lockwood. But how had it sounded like his voice was coming from her left side when Lucy could feel his hot breath ghosting over her right ear?

She hadn't even felt him form the words.

The fetch was still laughing. "You can look at your friend, you know? I think you'll be surprised."

With confusion, Lucy did just that - and screamed involuntarily at the sight before her. It was Lockwood, yes, but he wasn't just ghost-locked - he was dead. He was staring at her with glassy eyes, skin melting off his bones.

Lucy stumbled back in shock until her back hit a tree trunk. Only now did she finally realise what was happening. Lockwood's voice calling her from the woods, her never directly looking at the boy she had been chasing. That... thing in front of her wasn't Lockwood, and it never had been. It was a changer.

Both ghosts were closing in on her quickly now, and Lucy cursed herself for leaving her backpack in the iron circle in her haste. All she had now to defend herself with was her rapier - which wouldn't do much against a changer and a fetch.

"Lockwood! I'm here!" she screamed, voice hitched unnaturally high.

"It's alright," the fetch sighed. "You were meant to die here, you know? My hug would have set you free. But we won't hurt you now. It wouldn't make sense." A grin appeared on the face Lucy knew oh so well. "You're already dying, after all."

Before Lucy could make sense of the fetch's words, her world exploded into flashes of orange and white. The shockwave of the explosion hit her directly in the chest. "Flares," she thought in relief, but still: She doubled over, and she would've fallen to the ground if not for the tree propped against her back.

"Lucy!"

She could've sobbed at the sound of her name coming from Lockwood's mouth. And then, there he was: Warm and alive. Skin still clinging to him. He was touching her now, scanning her up and down, before he drew her in a tight hug.

It broke the last of her composure: Pent-up tears were flowing freely over her cheeks now. Sobs broke her chest. But Lockwood didn't let go of her. He only held her even more tightly, one hand firm on her back, one hand stroking her hair softly.

"It's alright," he whispered. "I've got you. You're okay. The ghosts are gone."

"I'm so... I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "There was a changer, and it took your form, and I thought you were..."

"I know. I know, don't worry. I saw them, too." He laid his head atop hers now, chin tucking her under. "But we need to get out of here before they come back. I don't have any flares left, and I don't know how long my pure charm could hold them off."

Despite herself, despite grief and shock still blocking her lungs, she had to laugh at that. It was a wet laugh, but it made her feel much better.

Lockwood was smiling at her now, and Lucy could see that his eyes were wet, too. He released her from the hug but entwined her hand with his in the same heartbeat.

"Come on, Luce. Let's get out of here. I don't trust leaving George and Mary alone together for such a long amount of time. They might very well be hatching some sort of evil plan right now."

Lucy laughed, again, and gripped Lockwood's hand tighter. He was rubbing circles into her palm, and the warmth of his fingers grounded her. Everything would be alright. "In that case," she chuckled, electrified by that joyful spark in his eyes, "let's get back before they take over the world."

It was then that everything fell apart.

She tried to take a step. And she faltered. Her body was too relaxed now in Lockwood's presence. The adrenaline had left her system. The pain in her left leg, which she had been able ban from her mind before, came back tenfold now. Her leg gave out under her weight, and she fell to the ground. She would've hit her head if it wasn't for Lockwood still holding on to her hand.

"Lucy? Lucy, what's wrong?" He was next to her in a heartbeat.

But why did his words seem to come from so far away all of a sudden? And why was her vision becoming so blurry? She reached up to hold her head, suddenly feeling coldness slice through her like a knife.

"You're... shivering," Lockwood stated and quickly put his coat around her shoulders. But Lucy barely registered it.

"I think I... I twisted my ankle," she managed to get out, but the words took such effort to form. She was sure she had slurred them all.

"Your ankle?" she heard Lockwood ask before she could feel his hands again, touching her leg carefully.

It felt nice, his warm hands on her oh-so-cold leg. Why was it so cold? She would have to remember to buy thicker tights when they were back in London.

All of the sudden, Lockwood next to her went stiff.

"Lucy." His voice was thick with emotion, and it was that detail that kept her eyes from closing. Instead, she followed his gaze down to her ankle.

It was dark in the forest, but she could still clearly see it: the blue, swollen skin protruding from a tear in her tights. Lockwood didn't have to say anything for her to know what it was: ghost-touch.

"Must've been the... fog," she coughed up, then laughed a bit, delirious as she was quickly becoming. "Should've... practised my rapier skills more."

God, the fetch hadn't been kidding when it had told her that she was dying. But strangely enough, Lucy didn't feel panic rising up inside of her at the realization. Quite the opposite. She felt... calm.

Lockwood didn't seem to share her sentiment. "Don't worry, Luce. You'll be okay, you hear me? We can fix this," he promised, but the confidence he tried to lay in his words was betrayed by the way his voice trembled. She felt his hands ripping open her tights desperately, and she sensed him going rigid again. The blue in her skin was rapidly spreading now. It seemed to have a hold on her entire leg already.

All at once, she didn't have the strength to hold up her head anymore. She let it fall to the ground, let it loll to the side. The stars looked pretty, how they were strewn in between the treetops. Little sparks of fire.

"No. No!" Lockwood was pulling her head into his lap now, hands beneath her neck, his forehead pressed to hers. "Please, Lucy, you need to stay awake. I'm going to... I'm going to get you out of here, okay? I'm going to get you out of this forest and then we'll get you help, okay?"

She could feel his hot tears on her skin, and all of a sudden, she asked herself why he was crying. Everything was okay, after all. She was just tired, just had to go to sleep for a bit.

His face took the place of the stars as he knelt over her, and she didn't mind it one bit. She always liked seeing his face. More than the stars, even. With as much of a smile as she could muster, she reached up into his hair, wondering when it had gotten so long.

"You'll need to cut it soon," she whispered, not sure if he could even understand her.

Her breath became laboured then, air got stuck in her lungs over and over again.

"Lucy, please," he pleaded again, and even feverish as she was she could hear the despair in his voice, the sobs he didn't quite manage to quell. "Luce. I need you to get up, please. We need to get you help."

It was funny, really. For just a second, she thought she could almost see the nine-year-old boy in him, begging his sister not to go. But why was he so sad now? She wanted to ask him, but she couldn't muster up the strength to form the words.

Pictures shot through her head then - precious moments, trapped in time: Norrie making her sign the book, giggling with her over alcohol. Lockwood looking at her for the first time on the day of her interview. His hands on her wrist back when he had tended to her wound and told her that he believed her. Leaning her head on George's shoulder after the bone glass had been destroyed. All three of them, laughing over breakfast in a sunlit kitchen.

A smile appeared on her face. Her eyes became unfocused. She could see the sun now, getting closer. She wasn't cold anymore.

"No, please, stay with me," Lockwood sobbed. "Don't leave me, Luce. Please."

She really tried, for him. To keep her eyes open, her mind sharp. But in the end, the infection won, just as it always did. Even Lockwood couldn't keep her eyelids from shuddering close.

He shouldn't worry so much, she thought. She was just going home, after all.

It was her last thought before she slipped away.

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A/N: Alright, everyone say bye to Lucy!

(jk, she'll be fine of course, she's just taking a quick nap)