requested by The_Number_Four   (this is part one!)

It was the night of my twentieth birthday when I got my first apartment. I wasn't hiding or doing any heinous crimes, it was just night time.

The landlord thought I was a visitor at first when I knocked on his door at midnight, asking for an apartment. I paid him a month's rent outright and he just handed me a key.

Apartment 3b. Third floor apartment facing the street. Flickers of ghouls and apparitions would come and go from my eyes.

My talent was fading and I needed a new life fast. I was a special case, I was nineteen with talent still when I got the job. I left Lockwood and Co. two days ago after working there for a year. No one would hire a nineteen year old with fading talent, especially not one with a record of ruining agencies.

Let me explain, it's not my fault that I always get blamed for the deaths of my team. I had better abilities than anyone I know, even Lucy. No one believed that the ghosts were harmless when I specifically said that it was a type two and not a type one.

No one trusted me because I have been to over five agencies in the past seven years. Lockwood and Co. was my sixth and last agency.

I left because it became too much. I was more of a liability than an asset. No one will know I'm gone until the morning. And I'm hoping that they don't come looking for me.

My first impression of this apartment was that it was very drab. It wasn't messy or horrific like a city apartment described in books, with bugs or rats. It was a one bedroom apartment with a large enough kitchen to satisfy myself.

I'd need a new job, maybe Satchell's or Fairfax's. The iron company was still going strong even after Sir John keeled over from being ghost touched.

I just needed a job that was low on the radar. I didn't need anyone to find me, or anyone I knew to spot me. I needed to grow out a beard or something, change my looks. Maybe dye my hair. Everyone would be looking for a mediocre guy with a clean shaven face and a rapier strapped to their hip.

My apartment had a boring couch in the living room and a plain, small bed in the bedroom.

It was enough to live in I guess. I did learn that the guy in the apartment next to me had frequent nightmares. Apartment 3a. I never saw anyone go in or out of the apartment, not even in the wee hours of the morning or the afternoon or the middle of the night.

I spent four days in my apartment cleaning and organizing before I went looking for a job.

Satchell's said they weren't hiring. Fairfax's wouldn't hire me because I had Lockwood and Co. in my resume.

I even tried a cafe across the street from my apartment. No one wanted me.

I think being a relic trader would be easier. I knew where to get dangerous sources from. I could easily sell them.

On the tenth day, I heard the guy in the apartment next to me leaving through our connected fire escape. It was barely morning and the sun was just coming up.

"Wait," I called out to him. "What's your deal?"

His body tensed and something about him looked familiar. He didn't turn around though, his hair and face were hidden by a really ugly hat.

"You leave through a window. You're never home and when you are, you're always screaming. So, what's your deal?" I asked. This guy was really messing with my sleep schedules. Maybe no one wanted to hire me because I already looked dead from a lack of sleep.

The guy turned around and I was met with familiar eyes and the same stupid face.

"Honestly, this day couldn't get any worse," I said suddenly.

"Good to see you too, Y/n," Quill Kipps said to me sarcastically.

"I haven't seen you in six months," I said quietly, scratching the stubble that was growing on my chin.

"You were reported missing three days ago," Kipps replied. "You got Tony's brains in a knot."

"And I will stay missing. Nothing good comes from me, nothing but trouble," I told him. "Those kids deserve to stay safe." From me.

"Oh please, you're having a pity party over nothing. And unlike you, my talent is long gone but I'm still at Fittes," He bantered.

I shivered at his words, "Because the people that died on your team were swept under the radar and not put on your record. Mine are plastered on my forehead for everyone to see."

"Hiding won't bring them back. It's just making people like me work harder to prevent people like you from becoming a visitor," Kipps sighed. "Go back inside. I need to go to work. And you need some sleep."

"I need a job and a life. I lost everything after Fittes tarnished my name. I don't have a purpose besides running from good people to keep them safe."

Quill sighed, "I'll be back around noon. We can talk then. Don't get your hopes down kid."

"I'm only two years younger, idiot," I mumbled as he turned away and climbed down the fire escape.

I went back inside and looked around at my miserable surroundings. I needed some decorations.

It was too dry and drab in here and it made me feel even worse than I already was.

I went out to a small shop a few streets away. This part of London had the best bakeries that made the streets smell heavenly.

I spent a bit of my saved money on some lamp lights, a fake plant, and some decorative pillows for my sad couch.

Walking back home, I stopped near the opening of an alleyway to tie my boot laces. I know what you're thinking. Alleyways are dark and visitors could be hiding there. But I didn't care, I didn't want to trip and fall on my face for everyone to see.

As I stood up, I heard a faint meow from a trash bin a few steps away from me. Ghost animals were very rare but this was for certain a real animal. I grabbed my bags and walked to the side of the bin, crouching down to see a small dark gray kitten staring up at me.

"Well, hello there. Are you lost?" I smiled at the little baby. I gently picked up the kitten. She had no identification and was really disheveled.

The kitten was clearly hungry so I pulled her close and took her back to my apartment. Luckily I had some milk and I was lonely so it worked out fine.

I gave the kitten a little bath. Her eyes were open so she had to be about a month or two old. She laid in the towel I took out and I could tell she was happy.

I gave her some milk and held her as she drank it enthusiastically.

"Look, I have rules. And I don't have money. So we'll share stuff. Just don't piss on the furniture and you'll be okay." I was talking to a kitten, a very confused kitten.

"I'm naming you. You need a name. But I'm bad at naming things so I'll name you something probably stupid. You know what? I'll name you Pebble. You're tiny and gray, makes sense."

A voice spoke suddenly. "Who're you talking to?" I jumped as Kipps walked in from the fire escape door.

"Bloody hell, can't you enter normally? Try knocking."

"Well, I couldn't help it. You're hunched over on the couch talking to a wet towel," He laughed at me a bit and plopped himself next to me.

I turned to him. "Pebble, meet the Angry Leprechaun from next door."

Pebble popped her head out and looked curiously at Kipps.

"Y/n, please tell me you didn't get a kitten."

"Okay then. I didn't get a kitten."

"Did you think before you got it?"

"Well she was alone by a dumpster and I couldn't just leave her. Besides, I have nothing better to do. I've had a shitty week, Kipps," I argued.

He sighed. "Lucy's gone, Y/n. Anthony said she went out looking for you. George actually asked Fittes for help but my boss said that we specialized in dead people."

"You don't understand. I can't go back. I got people hurt and killed because I wasn't careful enough. I'm a hazard to everyone. I've told you before. It's easier to be seen as a villain than a hero. When people look at me, they only see the horrors they've been told. But when they see you, they see a very well put together agent with a successful career and no mistakes. I want to be normal, why couldn't I be the normal one?"

Kipps was quiet. In my arms, Pebble was sleeping so I took her out of the wet towel and placed her on top of a pillow on the floor.

"Now, I burnt my resume and my letters and anything tying me to the past. I don't want death by misadventure, death by ghost touch and death by recklessness to be the first thing someone sees."

"You're upset, I get that," Kipps began. "But this isn't all, is it? You lost your talent, right? You think you have no purpose. Well, I want to tell you right now. You're lucky. You think you're the issue when you survived this far. I got to work everyday and I see these twelve year olds with their talents, scared out of their minds. I have to train them and then they go out into the field and they don't come back." He sighed. "They don't live but I do, so I come home and cry because we live in a messed up world where children are our soldiers. Those children will never grow up to get married and maybe they're lucky so they don't have kids. Those kids will grow up and die. The Problem is what's wrong. Y/n, you're perfectly fine. We've lived through hell and we're alive. We can change our lives so our children won't die. Just promise you'll shave your face, look presentable, and when the time is right, go back to Lockwood. Give a proper goodbye before you go off grid."

I sat there for a bit, soaking up every bit of Kipps' words.

Maybe he was right. I mean, I was only twenty years old with a whole life ahead of me. And luckier than most of the agents in London, I survived.

Kipps and I continued talking until it was late at night and we passed out on the couch.

I guess Quill wasn't a bad guy. He was like me, a guy with severe instability who just needed someone to talk to.