Chapter Text
So, of course, all things considered and given their particular brand of luck; he really shouldn’t be surprised. And, yet. Somehow, he and Margo found themselves in a dungeon in Whitespire, three hundred years in the future.
And, yeah. Maybe Margo needed to brush up on her diplomacy skills just a skosh. Her opening salvo to a group of angry peasants who had just informed them that a Dark King now sat the throne?
Lucky I’m here to unseat that motherfucker.
Needed some work. Considering. There was a prophecy. About a child of earth reclaiming the throne. And a five hundred Fillorian crown bounty. Probably a tad low. If Eliot actually gave a shit about such things. But he was completely out of shits to give.
He sat against the wall on the cold, damp floor, vaguely aware of the aching throb in his side. Most of the pain, however, came from the ever-present grief he could barely breathe around. He clutched at his fucking cane, holding himself upright, not even bothering to try and focus on anything else. Margo, apparently, had other things on her mind, pacing back and forth in the small cell.
“Five hundy? We’re worth a measly five hundred crowns? Cheap ass bag of shit. Jesus Christ.” She came to a stop in front of him, crouching down so as to make eye contact. She snapped in his face. “Eliot. Fuck. We need to make a plan. And, you need to get out of your fucking head--”
He felt his mouth crack open at this. “Bambi.” His eyes fluttered closed; well of tears rising up. Things had happened so quickly. Well, probably not for the others, but Eliot had barely any time between the thrill of waking in his own body, injured as it was. But so very his own. And, then. Funny how the joy of being alive quickly turned to wanting to be anything but. His entire world ending. Even though he was nowhere near physically ready, he couldn’t get away fast enough. So, he followed Margo to Fillory, trying to outrun the ashes. And, here they were. In prison. Figures this would be his first real chance to rest.
Margo was apparently taken aback by what she saw on his face. Or, precisely. The lack thereof. She sank fully to the ground, legs curled beneath her. Leaning forward, she placed a hand on his knee. “Hey.” She ducked her head. “Eliot. Look. I know you are hurting. So am I. I lost him, too.”
Not the same. He turned his face away, staring at the cracks in the brickwork.
She blew out a long breath. “And, now, we’ve no idea what happened to Josh and--Jesus. Fen? And, we are fucked three ways to Thursday by some twat-daddle Dark King--and--” She shook her hand on his knee. “Fuck, Eliot.” He continued his fastidious study of the wall, refusing to turn. “Hey, asshole. I need you.”
Eliot swallowed thickly, then took a deep breath, swiveling his head to look at Margo. The words, they were just there. Right behind his mouth. He felt the need to confess; he’d earned that at least. Hadn’t he? “Oh, God.” Tears started streaming down his face, unbidden.
And, Margo’s chin was doing that wobble thing that always, always, did him in.
“I fucked up, Bambi. I fucked it all up.” That's all it took for the invisible wall to finally come crashing down. All in a whisper, barely heard over the rushing in his ears. But he confessed. Of a lifetime together, of love, of family. Of running away. Of no second chances.
“Fucking hell, Eliot.” Her voice was thick with tears, and she was giving him a look of such naked pity that he couldn’t meet her eyes. “You never told me.”
He took in a shaky breath. “I never told anyone.” Never even got a chance to tell him. He twisted his hands around the smooth wood of his cane, the burn giving him focus.
“Well, fuck.” She threw her head back. “I honestly don’t know what to say. I mean, first things first-- we get the hell out of here. And back to our-time earth. And maybe you could try and Orpheus and Eurydice his ass out of the Underworld?”
He just stared and her, trying to remain emotionless, but failing given the pointed eye-roll.
“Jesus, El. Did you ever like read an actual book?”
He rolled his own damn eyes. He wasn’t an idiot; he was just smart enough that he could get by with the barest minimum of effort.
“So epic quest--Orpheus’s love of his life dies, he goes to the Underworld to try and guide her out?” Margo shrugged. “It’s all very tragic and romantic. Very on brand for you.”
“Sounds like something I’d definitely fuck up.” He turned to study the far wall again, his voice going low. Hard not to lean into that doubt once again. Now, it was all he had. The architect of his own self-fulfilling prophecy. “Besides. I might not be his spirit guide of choice.”
Margo threw her hands up, letting them slap against her sides. He knew she was frustrated, trying to get him to pay attention. “Well, won’t that be a lovely problem to ponder. Once we get our fucking asses out of here.”
There was the sudden whoosh-pop of someone traveling in. Eliot was having a hard time reconciling what he was seeing. Penny, but in the funereal gray suit of the Library. “Penny?” Apparently, Margo was as confused as he. “Our Penny?” She stood slowly, warily regarding him.
“S’up, Margo.” He grinned and nodded at her; clearly happy to see them. Eliot was pretty sure he never saw Penny smile other than in sarcasm. Penny nodded down at him. “Eliot.”
“Jesus Christ on a fucking cracker, please say you’re here to rescue us.” Margo’s eyes were wild, hands on her hips. Ever the High King.
Penny held his hand out to Eliot; helping him up. He accepted, then immediately regretted, considering the white hot spike of pain in his side the movement caused. He sucked in a deep breath. Penny eyed him cautiously. “You ok?”
Eliot bit back the retort never better, a bit too fucking glib for all of this, and merely glared.
Penny gave him a small nod then stepped back, regarding Margo. “So. I’m not here to rescue you, per se. Actually. I’m not here to rescue you at all. Not my gig. Besides, I read your book.” He smiled at her, sincerely and with a bit of pride. “You have a whole ass kingdom to get back on track, your majesty.” He gave her a small bow. She threw back her head and squared her shoulders; motherfucking right. Penny turned to look directly at Eliot. “Anyways. I’m here because boss lady’s looking for you.”
Eliot gripped his cane tightly, trying but failing to stand completely straight, pain lancing down his side. “Me?”
Margo cut her hand down sharply. “Wait? Are we playing nice with the Library now?”
Penny just shrugged and gave a wry smile. “Under new management.” He refocused on Eliot. “So. Yeah, you. Special mission.” He tilted his head to the side. “Call it a quest, if you’re nasty.”
Eliot gestured with one hand at his cane. “Well, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m not exactly at my fighting weight these days.”
“Oh, right.” Penny reached into his breast pocket, pulling a small vial of a clear liquid. He held it out towards Eliot. “Here.”
Eliot scoffed. “Yeah. We don’t have the best track record with little bottles full of liquid.”
Penny shook the bottle. “Made a pit stop on the way. It’s from Chatwin’s Torrent. Take it.”
Eliot waited for the dumbass comment that never came. Maybe their Penny had softened in death. Last he’d heard, Penny had been a dick to the Torrent guy, so maybe that was a good thing? Still, he found it--unsettling. He held his hand out for the bottle, drinking it down in one go. It was an odd sensation--skin knitting together, nerve endings healing. It wasn’t unpleasant, just weird. He twisted at the waist, having full range of motion restored, then stretched his arms above his head. He already missed needing the cane to lean onto.
Penny just watched him sedately. Observing. “All good?”
Eliot stood and swallowed thickly, giving himself some space before nodding. “So, quest?”
Penny rolled his shoulders a bit, and Eliot could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “So, not to humble brag or anything, but I recently got promoted. Small, elite team. Not much action, typically, but when we do--well. Big shit.” He smiled almost indulgently at Eliot, and wasn’t that fucking confusing. “Unfinished Stories Division.”
Eliot felt Margo take a step closer to him, but his eyes remained fixed on Penny.
“So, the last time this unit had a case was almost a century ago. Big story--unrequited love. Romeo and Juliet next level star-crossed bullshit. You get the picture.” He waved his hand, wrapping up the not story. “Well. Gotta admit didn’t do wonders for my rep that I was the new guy, there like a few days, and suddenly caught the case of the century. But, just so turned out that a client from my last gig--”
Eliot shook his head. “I’m sorry--what in the actual fuck--”
Margo stepped up, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. “El.” Her voice was stern and full of something he couldn’t place. “Let him finish.”
Penny tilted his head ok by you? and Eliot nodded by your fucking leave. “Right, like I said, in my last gig--”Secrets Taken to the Grave”, anyways.”
Something in that, in the way he said it. Something dropped. At the look Eliot pinned him with, Penny just chuckled.
“Not like I can tell you anything about that, man. Anyways. This client, uh. Well, let’s just say the boss lady took a particular interest and read his book. And, associating books. And, well. After doing that. She opened a ticket. And, assigned it to me, seeing as I was his Secrets guy. Forever assuring my pariah status on the team, but, hey.” He spread his hands out wide.
“Holy shit.” Margo held his arm in a vice grip. Penny fucking winked at her.
Eliot’s throat felt thick, like he couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure he completely understood while at the same time had perfect fucking clarity. But, he couldn’t allow himself to lean into this, not even for a second, to even try reading between the lines--
Penny just continued on, regarding him sedately. No biggie. Not like he was undoing the very fabric of reality around him. “So. The thing was--it was totally against protocol. But like, when the guy first came down, I offered him cocoa. I mean--that part? Was protocol. But then made sure to tell him not to drink it.” He waited a few beats for this to sink in. “So.”
Margo took in a deep breath, almost like a sob mingled with a laugh. Eliot--wasn’t tracking, his confusion apparently evident. Margo shook her head, looking at Eliot first, then back to Penny. She had to calm herself a little before speaking, clearing her throat. “Trust this dumbass doesn’t get the reference.”
Penny blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, I wish I had got the reference. Eat one piece of Debra’s cake in the break room; doomed for eternity.” He just shrugged again easily, looking back at Eliot. “So. You in?”
Eliot’s throat felt dry. He opened his mouth a few times. “I--I don’t. What even--” He took in a shaky breath. “Why me?”
Margo’s voice, sweet as honey, without any irony whatsoever. That in and of itself was terrifying. “Oh, baby. Isn’t it obvious?”
And. Maybe it was. But also completely wasn’t. Because this was very clearly a moment, but also. Why him?
Penny gave him a small, enigmatic smile. “Boss lady.” Which, in some ways was just the right side of inadequate that could be convincing in how little and much it revealed.
What did he have to lose at this point? “Yeah?”
Penny raised an eyebrow. “That a question?”
Eliot turned towards Margo, seeking her assurance. Her eyes were closed, and her chin. The wobble thing. But she finally looked at him; strong with resolve. “Go, El.” Another long shaky breath, making her voice stern again. Like a motherfucking king. “But, you better come back to me, you miserable jackass.”
Penny didn’t wait for a further response, clapping him on the shoulder and blinking them out.