WHO: Margo Hanson, Eliot Waugh I WHEN: Shortly before the Eliots's birthday party WHERE: Margo's room in the Cottage WHAT: Eliot and Margo close a little bit of distance. TRIGGERS: Talk of drug spiraling, murder, etc
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There felt like there was an ever present divide these days when it came to the subject of Margo. Taking the initiative to speak to Quentin had been difficult as far as emotions went, because Eliot didn't necessarily like speaking up about how he was feeling, but it hadn't been difficult to follow through on once he'd made up his mind to do so. Margo, however, was an entirely different story and the divide was a large part of it. For the most part he'd felt like they'd largely come to a new normal. And on most days he could live with it, even if it sometimes ached to feel like he had to be more guarded around her. But the new normal was the divide. And that divide felt even larger now.
So, going to Margo and following through with what he knew needed to be done and the advice he'd been given, was much harder than it was with Quentin. In theory, he now knew more than he'd known at the beginning of the week, when he'd become hyper aware of absences. He could just bury the evidently unnecessary hurt feelings. He didn't think that was the best course of action though. And the truth was that even though she was home, and he'd seen her since, there was still an incredible sense of longing for her. It was a common feeling in the presence of the divide. It just felt even more intensified since his misunderstanding of recent events.
Coming up near her door, he hovered for a moment, fingertips pressed against one another as he looked ahead into her room. There once was a time he'd just step in because the invitation was always open. He stood for a moment longer, with an uncertain expression, before he spoke. "Bambi?" He was so close to the entranceway but he didn't cross in.
There were a few tips to noting which Eliot was which. Most people would start with the hair, and that would be a fair assumption. However, it was the uncertainty when he said the nickname he gave her so long ago that revealed it. She missed that nickname, and the warmth behind it, almost as much as she missed his physical warmth.
Get used to it, Margo. Because the divide had grown in Fillory when he'd gotten married, but then sealed itself up a little when they were stuck there, ruling together for as long as they had.
She glanced up from her laptop, closing the lid. She didn't want him to see that she was hanging on Pinterest to get ideas for his upcoming birthday party. Twinkle lights were so much better when you could use magic. You weren't restrained by pesky things like electricity and wires. Hopefully, the party was still something of a secret, even if she knew that Eliot must have suspected it.
"Why are you standing in the doorway like there's an earthquake? Get in here."
He watched her for a moment. There was a flicker of a thought as to whether or not he should offer to come back later, which felt absurd. In the days before Fillory, he'd have just clamored on in and if what she was doing was important, he'd lay by her side and let her finish. He'd have just been content to be in her orbit.
He didn't feel like they were in orbit much these days.
Of course, the statement did some to settle nerves. He gave a small chuckle, with a shrug of his shoulders, as his hands dropped down to his sides and he allowed himself to step in. There was a moment where he thought on whether or not he should or shouldn't before his hand pushed the door behind him. He didn't want the entirety of the Cottage to bare witness to this conversation, even if all that were presently residing here were their friends and family.
He stepped over to her bed and sat down on the edge beside her. "Can we talk?" Serious conversations weren't something that were ever regular between them, even back before everything had changed.
Shit.
Did he know about the party? Did he know that she'd spent several days locked in Alice's place to keep his Doppelgänger from overdosing on goddamn opium? (Odds were: Quentin couldn't keep his mouth shut.) She could handle any of those options. The one she couldn't was whether or not she was okay with him marrying Kylo Ren.
She'd tried. She really had. Kylo made Eliot happy, and out of all her friends, Margo thought he deserved happiness the most. He'd struggled so hard for it, put in the work — and the truth was that Margo just didn't think that Kylo was good enough for her Eliot. Of course, she never really tried to get to know him, but that whole business of killing Han Solo and slaughtering a temple that likely included children was a hard thing to get over. She hadn't been here while they were developing the relationship, so it was difficult for Margo to see why.
Still, the words Can we talk? always made her blood run cold. She eased her computer over the side of the bed, sliding it to the floor carefully. "Yeah, what's up?"
He wasn't exactly sure where to begin with what he wanted to say. There was the very immediate and recent situation that he wanted to address, but a lot of that now felt as if he was overreacting. Even if he was, however, the feelings had been there and they'd hurt and he felt as if burying it without speaking about it was just opening himself up to even future potential hurt. He didn't want to have anymore lingering feelings of bruised feelings when it came to Margo.
"Did you not tell me what was happening because I have stuff going on?" He turned his head to look in her direction. It wasn't spoken with any accusatory tone. He wanted to know if that was her thinking on the subject, too. It had been what Quentin had told him.
Yup. Quentin couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"I didn't tell you because you just got engaged, I didn't take it very well, and then I came back to find the other you was doped up on opium." That last word was spoken with the disdain of someone who thought opium was the McDonald's of restaurants. Not even a real restaurant, just this convenient thing that people called sustenance. "It was sudden, and I didn't want to dump that on you."
He pulled in a breath and exhaled slowly. He'd wanted to tell her about the engagement in person but been pushed into a corner until he'd written the news out on the network. Even without being around her when she found out, he'd known she was upset, even if she'd not said the words exactly. Her and Quentin's departure with Napoleon not long after had, according to Quentin, been because of the other Eliot's arrival but there was a part of him that was certain his forthcoming nuptials at least played a factor. If nothing else, this was confirmation to a degree.
Having found out about his counterparts struggle from Quentin, the opium wasn't a surprise. If anything, that choice made sense. It made Eliot think of Fillory and he wondered if it was chosen because of that or if because he had access to it. "I had just gotten married before we fought Martin," he reminded, still without malice. He turned his head back to look at her. "I would have rather known."
"The universe has a way of constantly fucking us over, Eliot." Margo was growing frustrated with everything. The lack of contact with Eliot — in all ways, but mostly their conversation — was a constant factor in her agitation. And when he married Fen, it had been a promise in Fillory so that they could stop Martin. It wasn't because he fell in love with someone else and wanted to marry him. "You've already done the alcohol and drug spiral. The last thing I wanted was for this to trigger another one."
"That it does," he agreed. There was no reason to disagree with it. It was fact and it wasn't as though it was exclusive to their reality, either. It happened here just as well as it happened back home. He had been aware of the frustration of course. He felt it himself in varying ways, and it was the conversation that he missed more of all. He watched her for a moment as he let her words settle over him. "Seeing myself spiral isn't going to be what triggers that." He knew who he was and where he'd been. Depending on how you viewed things, he'd been sober either close to two to three years....or half a century.
Perspective, and all.
"I didn't know what was happening," he said after a moment, "And normally it wouldn't be a big deal, but, knowing you didn't take our last conversation well...my mind got ahead of me," he explained, trying to not delve too deep. But it should have been clear. He had worried they were pulling away.
Margo drew in a breath. She was grateful that her missing eye was facing Eliot. Their last conversation had been disheartening in many ways, but Margo should have known to expect it. What had she told Quentin so long ago? The way to get what you want was to be so miserable you didn't want it anymore? Guess she'd lost that fight. She'd lost Eliot, and she hadn't even been here to fight for him.
"Your mind's not entirely wrong. I didn't take it well, the same way I didn't take your marriage to Fen well." Honesty had always been something they prided themselves on, even if meant hurting the other's feelings. "At least Fen was an obligation. I could pretend that it wasn't because you didn't love me anymore."
The way his mind had gotten ahead of him was that he had convinced himself that Margo and Quentin needed more than a weekend. He couldn't and wouldn't fault them for it, but panic at losing his family had set in, and he'd begun spiraling forward on the idea of what would happen if they decided they needed to be away in a more permanent way. His rational mind had told him that just because it was an additional night or two didn't mean they were leaving but his emotions had gotten the better of him. He was afraid his happiness was going to drive them away.
He'd not taken his marriage to Fen well, either. It had been like a gift from the Gods above that he was pulled away from Fillory meer hours after his marriage and thrust upon a spaceship; or at least that had been his outlook back in those days. Realization that he was cut off from everyone he loved had soon set in and it had been less of a gift as time wore on. But he'd gained new companions in that period and they'd been able to keep him going. They saved him in a way similar to how Fillory had in their real time. And when people from his world began to arrive, he was eager to share them with his new friends, including Kylo.
Still, he felt his stomach plummet. "What?"
The divide him and Margo had been there ever since she'd returned to Tumbleweed. She'd returned and she was told of his actions and he hadn't been here to explain to her what was going on. Not wanting turmoil between them, he'd allowed for Kylo to become a topic they rarely spoke about. Sometimes the divide felt larger and sometimes it felt virtually non existent sans that topic. But he'd kept held himself back because he felt like he had to. Shifting his body to face her, "Is that how you've thought I felt this whole time?"
"As soon as I got here, everyone jumped on me that Ren wasn't a bad guy, that we shouldn't hold what he did back in his world against him. And then immediately everyone turned that around on me to shame me about the fucking fairie deal. As if it was okay to pretend his shit don't stink, but mine — well, I'm a woman so it's going to stick to me like white on fucking rice." Margo was getting riled up. She'd kept it in a long time, but at some point, she knew it was going to explode over it. This dude got away with slaughtering a temple of innocent people, and he's seen as someone to coddle and make feel better for the choices he made. Margo, backed into a corner, had made a bad decision and then immediately tried to fix it and somehow she was the bad guy.
It was always that way. In Fillory, she made the decisions and a lot of those were not the fun ones, but the necessary ones. Eliot made the ones for people to like him. She made the ones necessary to keep people functioning and working. She'd been labeled all kinds of things by the people there, and it had infuriated her to the point that at times, she'd wished that Umber had just destroyed the whole goddamn thing.
She thought about Jane Chatwin in the Clock Barrens. She'd needed her help to untrap Eliot and Quentin, and she'd told her: You're going to be a very, very powerful magician and queen. Your tale is your own, Margo. You may not get the appreciation you deserve, frankly, or the peace, but it is yours, and I can tell you, it won't be boring. Frankly, it pissed Margo off. All this goddamn hard work, and no one was going to appreciate a goddamn bit of it.
"It's been this way since Mike. Why do you think the Djinn was doing all that shit? I was obviously jealous. It was supposed to be you and me against everyone else."
This was the fight that had been stopped prematurely and left unfinished practically a year ago at this point. It was the fight that he'd known was causing the divide but rather than try to address it, he'd chosen to let it go unfinished with them not talking about it. They could go periods without talking about their feelings and emotions but whenever they did, they were truthful to one another. So even though everything she was saying made his blood want to boil over, he knew it wasn't exaggerated from her perspective. It was how she felt, even if he didn't agree.
He didn't look away from her as she spoke and he didn't try to interrupt her. There was visible indications that she was touching nerves but he gripped at the comforter. "I wasn't here to be a part of that," he reminded her. Even though he'd truly enjoyed his trip with Kylo on that occasion, there was a significant part of him that wished like hell he hadn't taken it when he did; that he'd been home when Margo arrived. That he was the one who got to speak to her about all of this. "I was backed into being on the defensive the moment I got back because you didn't wait to let me explain to you. And I'm sorry everyone else was shaming you, but by the time you came back? I'd already worked through how I felt about the fairie deal. I just wanted to be fucking happy you were back in my life," he explained, trying to keep himself level. Them both being riled up wasn't going to help. "I was damn near willing to let a fucking mad scientist tear the Universe apart to get to you." He hadn't ever told her, but it was true. He'd been trying to find a way to Fen and his daughter from the moment Margo had told him what happened but it was once he lost Margo again that his obsession with finding a way to and back from Fillory kicked into high fear.
There was an immediate sting of pain at the mention of Mike. His feelings for Mike had been genuine on his side, but Mike hadn't even known he was there. It had been a manipulation by the Beast the entire time. Looking back on that entire era of his life now just bought a since of bitterness and pain. "I wanted him with us," he said, quietly, just has he had told her back then. He knew now it wasn't ever something that would have worked; even if Mike had actually been who he said he was. "I didn't want him, or anyone else, to come between us."
"Mike was fucked up in more ways than the obvious." The Beast had gotten Eliot, hook, line and sinker with that one, and that was when things were severed between them. There'd been jealousy with Fen. Jealousy with Idri. Basically it amounted to Margo having to constantly remind herself that nothing ever worked out in their favor. This was how the world was. You worked hard, and got shit on. You did nothing, you got shit on.
It had been a good chunk of time that she'd been withholding this from him. She didn't want to shit on his happiness with Kylo Ren, even if she thought that Ren didn't deserve a man a quarter as good as Eliot. So she'd kept it in, and that was stupid because she knew it would blow up like it was now. She kept it in because Quentin and Eliot had spent a whole life together without her. She kept getting pushed out of the equation and it was time that she realized that she wasn't going to get her happiness. "It's not like I planned to show up in the middle of your trip, El."
"Agreed." He didn't think they needed to go through all the ways that had fucked them up. It wasn't just Eliot who had been severely damaged by everything involving Mike. It had ripples but it most certainly affected him and Margo the most. He wasn't certain if they needed to go through all of that now in order to get to a better place. Was hashing it out about Mike what was needed to clear the divide? He couldn't say, but he hoped not. Talking about Kylo and the situation here in Tumbleweed felt marginally easier than the topic that had sent him into a self destructive spiral.
Something of which she evidently was trying to keep his other self from getting too sunken into at present. It felt better to leave that to rest.
He exhaled and glanced downward at the comforter for a moment. "I know that," he said quietly, "It just got to the point where I felt like we couldn't talk anymore." He'd tried to breach the divide after the initial blow up. It hadn't gone well. He looked back to her. "I meant it, Bambi. I was trying everything I could to have you back here. And I was making sure I didn't spiral out while you were gone." He'd demanded that Quentin keep an eye on him. He had given Q complete permission to do whatever necessary if he began to spiral.
"That's the thing, Eliot. You don't do any of this shit for yourself. You do it for other people. You do it for me. You do it for Q. You do it for Fen, and Fray, and Julia, and Ren, and whoever else it is that you have decided you need to like you. I have watched you for years give everything you have to other people in the hopes that will love you in return." Margo closed her eye and looked down. Sometimes she felt like this thing with Kylo Ren wasn't because there was an actual connection there; sometimes she felt like it was because it was a challenge to Eliot. It was because a guy like Kylo Ren was all feeling and if he loved Eliot Waugh, then Eliot had to be worth something. Because Eliot Waugh felt like he wasn't worth anything.
She worried that this was a manipulation. She'd seen how Kylo Ren had treated Rey and Han Solo in that first movie, preying on her loneliness or Han's love for him. She'd seen how, since Margo didn't fall in line with the narrative that Ren needed to be protected, she'd been shut out of things going on with Eliot. Sure, some of that was her fault for staying away, but she definitely thought Ren needed to be challenged with his past to actually cope with it and learn from it. Covering it up did no one any favors.
Eliot's back tensed and his face fell as she spoke. It wasn't without merit. Eliot had given up everything he'd ever wanted for the other Magicians and for Fillory. It was Quentin and Julia who had made the deal with Fen's Father but it was Eliot who had to go ahead with the follow through. And it had been worth it, regardless of how miserable he was about the entire situation, because it meant those he loved had a chance. Without the Virgo blade, they'd been convinced they had no chance of beating Martin. They hadn't in the other 39 timelines, after all. He was willing to do whatever he could in order to have them be safe. He'd have argued that he didn't need their love in return.
He just needed their safety.
But it wasn't entirely true. He'd lived nearly his entire life before Brakebills feeling completely unloved and alone. Margo was the family he'd sought and she was just the first. "My wanting you here was for me," he said, quietly, looking incredibly defeated as he said so. He'd felt selfish but he'd still tried. Margo likely would have been far happier remaining in Fillory but he couldn't face the idea of living for long without her. If he was doing shit for her, he'd have not tried a damn thing to bring her here.
And everyone she had named he felt was worth giving his all for. His self sacrificing streak wasn't as loose and all encompassing as Quentin's might be but when it came to those he loved? It was there and dialed up to eleven.
"Eliot," Margo started, turning to look at him. She reached out for his hands, if he'd allow her. Quentin had been it so succinctly the night they had their threesome. Margo had lamented that she had never loved anything the way that Q did, and he'd looked to Eliot and said that wasn't true. He was right, of course. Her love for Eliot was so intense at times that it scared her. The problem was that he didn't love her the way that she wanted him to love her. "I love that you wanted me here, and that you were willing to break the dimension for me. You know that I would do the same for you, but — I worry nonstop about you. About this relationship."
What happens if Eliot does something that pisses Kylo Ren off? What happens when the butterflies wear off and real life settles in? What happens if he gets bored? Or throws a temper tantrum?
He allowed his hands to be scooped up, and he shifted them just enough to be able to thread his fingers with hers. He'd missed physicality with Margo. While an occasional hug was still warranted, the divide had made it so he didn't feel as though he was allowed to just step into her personal space the way he once had. That physicality was still present in his memories of their reign in Fillory; but it was non existent her in Tumbleweed. He missed it tremendously.
He nodded his head in understanding. He could understand the worry. "You aren't the only one," he offered up. She was, of course, the one who cared for him the most that held this worry. He knew members of Kylo's family shared the same concern. He'd spoken with Anakin already in depth about such. "Kylo's never tried to hurt me and I truly believe he won't ever." He suspected that Margo wasn't going to agree with him on this point. He didn't drop it though. Instead, he squeezed her hand gently. "But if he does try, I won't let him succeed." He'd told this to Anakin. Anakin had seemed content to know that while Eliot had faith in Kylo, it wasn't a blind faith.
"He's volatile." She'd witnessed temper tantrums on the network. Ridiculous things sometimes, and he couldn't take a Margo reply worth a shit. That was the kicker. By now, you either got used to how Margo talked, her bluntness, the fact that she had a mouth like a sailor. As much as Margo wanted their physical relationship back, the truth was that she wasn't willing to try for its return with Ren hating her as much as he did. And frankly, she didn't want to be physically involved with Kylo Ren if by some strange reason he was open to the idea. "And unpredictable."
Margo paused, looking up into Eliot's face. It had been a long time since she'd seen this particular face so close up. She felt the need to memorize the the corner of his mouth, the five o'clock shadow, the floppy curls cascading down his forehead. "And that's what I don't like. Frankly, it has too much potential to be abusive, and if I find out that he's manipulating you in any fucking way, I will have his testicles in a jar above my bed for everyone to see. Don't fuck with Margo Hanson."
She drew in a deep breath. "I'm not happy with the engagement, and it feels wrong and selfish and shitty of me, and I am sorry for that." Only to Eliot. "I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happy, then I will step aside."
"He can be." Eliot wouldn't deny that observation. It was one of his lover's absolutely negative traits and Eliot wasn't blind to it. Only, it was something he knew Kylo was actually working on and had been for well over a year. It wasn't completely gone and could be summoned dependent on mood, particularly when it came to his family, but he knew Kylo tried. And while he wasn't looking for a fight with Margo, he felt she turned a blind eye to any of his positive traits or his accomplishments.
"Have you ever seen him actually be that way in regard to me, Bambi?" He asked. He and Ky weren't devoid of arguments. He spoke up when he had a differing opinion and there had been times when that had resulted in a clash. But never once had he felt like Kylo was volatile in his direction, nor Fray or Fen's. Still clasping her hand, he moved the pad of his thumb in gentle circles against the upside of her hand. "I love that you'll be a honey badger for me if it ever comes to that," he offered up, because he didn't want this to be solely negative or for her to feel like he didn't take into consideration what she was saying, even if he didn't completely agree.
He bowed his head for a moment. He knew she wasn't happy and he knew it hurt her just as it hurt Quentin. It was why he was barely talking about it. It was a stark difference from how he'd been with Idri; and in that instance he hadn't even been in love with his fiance. He was just happy to have someone that was more in line with his desires than his other spouse. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "He makes me happy." There was so much he wanted to tell her, for nearly a year now, but he'd felt he couldn't. Only it didn't feel nearly as important at the moment as clarifying an earlier statement she'd made.
"I'm sorry I've made you feel like I stopped loving you," he said then, as he turned his gaze up, watching her. "I know it hasn't turned out how we thought it would." He remembered when it was only supposed to be them and everyone else came second. But it had been a long time since that point, and it had started well before Tumbleweed. He released her hand now and shifted, bringing it up to rest against her cheek, staring into her eyes. "But I'm never going to not love you, Margo."
She reached up to take his hand. She needed the extra moment to blink back tears. She hated crying, and if she ruined this perfect winged eyeliner, she would make him redo it. It took Margo several moments to compose herself before she could actually speak. "I'm sorry I made you feel the same way."
His own throat was tight and while he noticed the tears, he wasn't one to draw attention to them. He pulled in a strained breath when she finally did speak and there was a small nod. The weight of having missed her for so long, and the fear that had finally hit a breaking point earlier in the week, was beginning to feel like it was lifting some. He gave her the weakest smile before he let his hand slip down from her cheek, trailing from there down her arm, as he repositioned himself. He was by her side with just a few movements and his arm shifted to wrap around her, the way it used to when the world didn't feel like it was always trying to break them. He pulled her close to him and turned his head, pressing his lips to her cheek before he rested his forehead against her.