WHO: Margo Hanson, Eliot Waugh WHEN: The day after Margo arrives! WHERE: Quarantine WHAT: Eliot goes to visit Margo as soon as he gets back from NYC. TRIGGERS: Language. Margo's blunt, but nothing too outrageous. This time.
______________
Eliot had largely avoided any social media when he was away this week. Tumbleweed, and many of it's residents, had a way of being exhausting to him. Thus, as soon as Kylo was himself again and they'd run off to Manhattan, Eliot had set up notifications. If Petunia or Quentin messaged him, he'd give them his attention. Otherwise? He didn't look at the Network. His entire week was wrapped up in showing off the city that he felt most comfortable in with the person that he'd become most comfortable with. It'd been almost everything Eliot had wanted it to be, even with the bumpy start thanks to the Come as You Aren't party throwing away some of his plans (the Philharmonic, as an example).
But, with the return home, it was time to get back to reality.
One glance at the network, as soon as they were back home in the Cottage, and within ten minutes Eliot was already out the door and heading down to the Military Base. He held a small to go box in his hand, which he'd quickly arranged at the Cottage, that contained several baked goods he'd picked up while in the city. He'd come home with a vast array of selections for the entire Cottage to indulge in; as well as a few pieces for his other assorted friends. But having discovered Margo was home, he grabbed the selections he knew she liked best, and put them into the container to gift her while she sat in Quarantine.
And, possibly, to offer as an apology for having not been accessible the first 24 hours of her arrival.
Stepping through the hallway with a representative, he summoned a smile, though he had to admit he was wondering just what point she was from and how much she remembered. They'd get to that. Once the representative showed him to her window and walked away, he turned his focus to her. "Hey, Bitch."
The truth was, and Margo would never admit it, but this scenario she'd found herself in scared the shit out of her. It reminded her of being locked in Eliot's dungeon. She could handle rejection from everyone and anyone, but not from Eliot. They were a team, even if Fillory was a hot mess that neither of them wanted to give up as it slowly eroded their friendship. She'd never felt more in her element, and yet more alone than she did in Fillory.
She strode to the window, wearing the rich garb of Fillory with her crown resting atop her head. It was her way of making the people here feel as small as she could. Look at me, you're holding a queen hostage. How dare you. Feel bad for your poor pitiful queen.
"Hey bitch? You ignore me for a day, and that's all you say. Hey bitch?"
He took note of the attire and made a mental acknowledgement of the crown. While he understood what she was doing by making sure it was on display, he found her outfit to be more telling for his purposes. She was already crowned, which meant she wasn't from before Fillory. It gave the chances of her remembering Tumbleweed a bit higher of a percentage, since she'd given him all the updates of Fillory the last time he'd seen her. But it wasn't a guarantee.
He shook his head. "I was ignoring everyone," he clarified for her, though there wasn't any heat in his tone. It was more just a statement. "And I'm here now," he added.
"What time did you get in?" He asked as he stepped forward, setting the box in the glass compartment for her to get access to. "Those are for you. Clearly."
"Late yesterday."
Margo eyed the box in front of her, Alice's words that Eliot had been here for longer than three months. He hadn't mentioned the crown or the attire. Was he aware of what she'd done to him and Fen and their baby? Was she going to have to confess all over again and see that look on his face? The defeated, betrayed look? There was no truth serum for him to know that she'd done it all for him, to save him.
That crown suddenly weighed much more, so she took it off and set it on a nearby table, lingering her gaze on anything that wasn't El's face for a moment.
"Was it sex or a pity party that made you ignore everyone?"
Once the box was free from his hands, he shoved them deep inside the pockets of his trousers, his finger tips twitching to wrap around the pocket watch he kept on hand. His other hand clutched around his flask but he did not remove it from his pocket. "I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow night, then," he commented but was ready to move forward in the conversation.
He hadn't been aware that his smile had faded. His eyes followed as she moved to set the crown down.
"Vacation," he corrected, though there was a hint of truth to the notion of pity party. He'd thrown himself into disarray and desperation when she'd left earlier the preceding month. The trip to New York had been discussed many times, often really, but Margo's departure had been one of the final pushes to get the trip in motion. "Though there was plenty of the former."
A beat.
"I saw you mention the fairies."
A whole lot of bravado went out of Margo's demeanor. It wasn't something that most people saw, and even those who did, only saw it in short bursts or not very often. The guilt of what she'd done to Eliot was only tempered by the fact that she'd done it for him. She hadn't wanted him to get mercilessly killed by a guy who had killed 15 others who had dueled him. The fact that Eliot came back with a husband-to-be didn't matter anyway; magic was bigger than any of them.
"Yeah. Fairies are dicks."
"They are," he agreed without hesitation. He hadn't met any himself as of yet but he'd been told of what happened in Fillory by Margo herself. He supposed there was one of two explanations now for when Margo was from. The exact same moment as before or further along. He took in a deep breath.
"Fen still with them?"
It was an admission of his knowledge on the subject. It was out in the open now and there would be no doubt, theoretically, on what he did and did not know regarding his wife and child; regardless of how long he'd been in Tumbleweed.
Margo eyed him for several quiet moments. He didn't seem the kind of angry he had been with her when he'd sent her to the dungeons, but Eliot was sometimes very good at hiding his feelings. Just not usually from her. When shed finished trying to get a read on him, her entire demeanor changed.
Her shoulders no longer held the weight of her egotism, and she blinked until she no longer looked at Eliot directly. "She wouldn't come back with me, and the fairies wouldn't give your daughter up. Turns out that Ember's been doing everything in Fillory. A bucket list of shit before he destroys the whole thing."
His heart sank just enough at the sight. Having been proficient in reading Margo for some time now, he got a lot from that. He wanted to look away, to shield the feelings that were summoned when he thought of Fen and the Baby and Margo, but he did not; instead keeping his eyes on her as he waited for confirmation to be spoke aloud.
Then he nodded his head. She wasn't any further along then. "Alright." He looked past her for a moment, eyes fixated on the wall, as he let it wash over him.
When he'd first been told the events, he'd been absolutely furious, and had to break away from the conversation with her. She'd be in Quarantine then too. He hadn't come to visit her on that occasion and that conversation had taken place almost completely over the network. This time was different though. He'd had months to process the situation and had seen the remorse reflected in her eyes then as well as now. He understood that she had done what she thought was best with what she had known. But understanding didn't make it hurt any less.
Then his gaze shifted back to her and his eyebrows came together in surprise. This part he didn't know and it was clearly reflected on his face. "Tell me we've got a plan to stop him." Eliot may not have had the same intense feelings for Fillory at present as he would in her time, but he didn't want to see it destroyed. There were so many people counting on them; including Fen and his daughter.
"The fairies gave me a plant that's irresistible to him, so I figured we could get Josh to make those stupid little cakes and convince him that we're going to make Fillory exciting again." It wasn't much of a plan, Margo had to admit, but finding him was the biggest challenge of them all. They'd spent months looking for the missing God of Fillory, only to find that he didn't want to be found.
She shrugged, a simple raising and dropping of her shoulders as if she wasn't bothered. "And if that doesn't work, we kill him."
Eliot nodded. It was a relay of the intent but there would be know way to know of it's success at the present. Not until someone from home arrived, with memories from further on down the road, or one of the current residents woke up with a fresh set of memories. He couldn't contribute to the plan so all he could do was acknowledge it's existence. It sounded good enough to him, at least.
"Fucking cheers to that," Eliot muttered. His knowledge of Ember had soured any memories of the Ram from childhood. Eliot's first impulse wasn't necessarily to kill someone, but if the God was actively plotting to destroy the lives of millions of people, people he and Margo were supposed to keep safe, then by all means, he was on board with the contingency plan.
He shifted, moving to lean his shoulder against the glass, with his hands still in his pockets. His fingertips tipped over the box of smokes that rested against his pocket watch. "I'll make sure to open your windows in your room tonight. Let it air out before you get home," he then said, quietly.
"Are we really in Texas?" Margo believed it, but the moue of distaste on her face made her hoping there were portals to better places out there at the very least. She didn't intend to spend much time in Texas if she could. "Is this really where we've ended up?"
"Unfortunately," though his face didn't mirror her expression, his tone certainly did. There were more than a few occasions when he'd pondered picking up and getting as far from Tumbleweed as possible. The only issue, of course, being that his support system had their own support systems that spidered out through the community. He couldn't leave if he wanted them around all the time. "Free to come and go as we please, though. Portals still work. At least in this universe."
Meaning, without saying so, that they couldn't get to Fillory. Not yet.
That meant no hope of getting Eliot's daughter back. No chance of making things right between them. Margo moved to a chair and sat down in it, facing the window. There were few people who would see her this way, and only one she trusted with it. "I'm so sorry, El. I tried to get her back, but the fairies wouldn't — and Fen wouldn't come back with me either."
He pressed his finger against the glass. He wanted to be there, inside, with her. He didn't like being unable to comfort her. He couldn't summon a smile of reassurance but he shook his head. "I know," he whispered. "We'll get them back, Margo."
The pragmatic side of her informed her that no, they weren't getting the child back. They'd be lucky if they got Fen back. Traveling to and from the fairy realm wasn't easy. Getting there was fine, getting back — well, Margo knew she was going to have to sacrifice something. She just wasn't sure what yet.
But Eliot needed strength, conviction, and Margo's reassurances.
"You said the Cottage is here?" She hated to ask him for something so soon after getting here, especially after talking about the fairies. "You think you can get my pillow? Hard to sleep without it."
"I'll bring it straight back," he promised. It wasn't any trouble to pop home and grab it after all. He motioned to the book he'd brought her when he'd first arrived. "That, Bambi, is a few of our favorites from back home," he explained before pushing himself off the glass and stuffing his hands back into his trouser pockets. "I figure you might want a little reminder of there," he added.
"Should I bring anything else back from the Cottage?"
The nickname shouldn't have been anything more than just that: a nickname. But it went a long way to making Margo feel like she and Eliot would be all right. They were BFFs, right? Nothing could come between that. (Even if she knew that wasn't true.)