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[ he'd seen the preparation quentin had been doing, regardless of how well quentin might have attempted to hide it (knowing q, any of it would have been incidental rather than intentional anyhow), but as far as eliot was concerned, quentin may as well have been shouting back at him that he was going to still try and do something about all this the whole time anyway. despite eliot having argued against it the whole time, pushed to dissuade him, and fought to keep some sense of calm. there were a few times it even felt like he might have gotten through. but quentin, being quentin, never knows how to leave the tunnel once he's in it.

it hurts in a way that he doesn't know how to convey. he can only hold quentin closer when they sleep, let his touch linger as long as he can let it before he feels he's asking too much. they were supposed to be figuring things out together since everything else already seemed wretched enough on its own, and somewhere along the road, there had been promises, both spoke and otherwise, made. even before they came here, that's how it had been. with having arrived and started to find some footing, eliot had thought it meant they were all the stronger for it. except even now, with all of the history and emotions between them, even with what recently happened nearly tearing them apart at their own seams without even caring for the grander picture, he feels worlds apart as quentin carried on about what needs to be done, as eliot stifles the fear still embedded in his limbs, the ghost of malicious touches against his arms, his back.

they're meant to be parts of a whole. something incomplete without the other. but he watches as quentin prepares a bow, finds a quiver, fills it with arrows. eliot asks him to stay, but quentin only sees what's ahead, prepares to leave him behind.

when he's alone, he hears the hollow sound of the air vent from his childhood bedroom, the only sign of life beyond his breath and the shaking of his fingers against rumpled cloth clasped so tightly his knuckles are white. he doesn't want to be right. he doesn't want all of everything he worked years of his life for to be just a lie that lets him sleep at night. but what if it really just is? what if he'd been right all along about him and quentin too? all he'd ever really needed was the right person at his back, but here quentin stands far ahead, waiting for eliot to catch up.

the both of the know that if anything is going to be said, it will always have to be eliot. there's even a method to it, a way quentin simply does and silently dares eliot to say something, ready to fight back with something as angry as it is determined, but eliot had been avoiding it because he just wanted to feel home again, that feeling he'd somehow barely managed to find when quentin was recovering from his injuries. he doesn't quite find it. he can't when quentin is being like this, and while there are conversations they have where he fights back, they all end the same, and eliot knows he hasn't changed quentin's heart or his mind. he isn't like margo. he doesn't know how to fight and make people feel guilty for it. but maybe this is his own fault too, for thinking he could possibly be the solution to quentin's everything.

when q comes back with a torch, eliot ignores the sharp cold that pierces his chest and seeps to his fingers. he finishes making dinner, and only when they've cleaned up does he manage to find the words. ]

So. You're really going.

[ it's not a question because it couldn't be. not when it's fact. ]

[There's no plan beyond getting out of here. There's got to be a way out, and it's was probably going to be somewhere in the forest. Quentin really had no deeper reason for why it had to be in there, except for the experience gleaned from fantasy books throughout the years. And in every last one of them, the solution, the end of the Quest, was in the most dangerous place around. Just look at the Key quest.

The solution was in a dark castle on the underside of a fantasy world and this was going to be just like that. Just like finding the Wellspring in Fillory, like finding the Hidden Sea under castle Whitespire and just like finding the castle with the well of all magic and the Monster.

Determined, Quentin finds the things he needs and carefully packs it all up in his new pillowcase-slash-messenger bag; the ocarina, in case he needed to try to talk to the spirits. Trying that out as a first, instead of just using magic, might not be the worst idea. A bow and the quiver of arrows he found at the Armory, all packed and ready to go. But there's Eliot, looking quieter and more withdrawn with every day that passes, and all the arguments for why Quentin shouldn't.

Shouldn't go, shouldn't look, shouldn't try. And all Quentin hears is - you can't. Can't save me, can't save this, can't help.

So, he works harder, reading through the logs on the network and looking at the map until he almost knows it by heart. There's a way out, there's a way to make sure Eliot never has to go through this again. And somewhere, deep down, Quentin knows it's selfish. That he's doing this to make himself feel better, to feel useful but he swallows it down deep and focuses on doing something.

Because Eliot looks lost sometimes, or like he wants to say something and stops himself. Because the hugs in bed at night are fierce and hard and he never wants to let go, not even for a second, but Quentin can't stand to remember the look on Eliot's face on that last day. How huge his eyes were, wide and full of terror.

He gets in contact with Peter to maybe have a tracker, just in case, and he asks the birdperson for a torch, getting ready despite the hollowness in his stomach and the way every step feels too slow, too little and too late.]

Yeah. [Quentin rubs a hand over his face and looks up, his voice almost shaking with emotion. With exhaustion and overthinking.] Yeah, I'm going. I know there's a way out, El, and I know I can find it.

[ his voice his withdrawn. he knows what he says won't make a difference anymore. still a part of him wants to try, pleads desperately that quentin meant what he said when he promised to always do as eliot needs and so it must be true. there's only so much left to cling onto, and even what's left is barely even there. ]

Then can't it wait? Why now?

Because-- because I don't know when it's going to happen again? It could be tomorrow. There's just no way to know and I--

[Quentin clears his throat]

I have to do something? [Pleading tone to his voice, because Quentin was always at his worst when he was forced to stay still. When there's nothing to do but wait.] Come with me? We can find it together.

[ he does want desperately to go too, to feel like he's something close to who he's supposed to be instead of...whatever disappointing mess he currently is. maybe that's why quentin doesn't want to listen: eliot's just no good like this. ]

I. [ he reaches for quentin's hand because suddenly the fear bubbles up like bile in his throat, and he can't shake the dread. he takes quentin's fingers in his own, barely grasping and yet steadied all the same. ] I can't. I'm. What if it does happen? What if we don't make it out this time? [ what if i don't, he means. ]

Please. I can't-- [ he shakes his head, an uneven panic lingering. ] Not right now.

[ not with mike's words still lingering, every action and inaction quentin makes a silent affirmation of false words that had bored into him for far too long. ]

That's what I'm worried about.

[But he's going to cling to Eliot's hand, holding on with both of his just to have something to steady himself by. He knows these hands, almost as well as he knows his own. He's spent years looking and touching and being touched by these hands and this place almost took that away from him. Took that away from the both of them, because Quentin's fears ran too deep and too hard to take this. Because his mind was too broken to just fucking deal with this.]

When? The more I-- the more we wait, the greater the risk of this happening again. I've got it all worked out, I know where to start looking, I'm not taking any chances and I'm not-- I'm not going to just. [he sighs, licking his trembling lips] I'll find my way back home to you. But we can't stay here.

I. I don't know? I'm. [ he swallows thickly, looking away. he really doesn't know, and it terrifies him just as much as the way quentin looks outside the windows into the dark. he doesn't feel right anymore, and it seems endlessly. if quentin is already okay, shouldn't he be better now? he's supposed to be better than this. so why isn't he? ]

It's not home if you're not here, Q. [ and he means that both for here as it is here and wherever quentin decides to go, if he goes. no, not if. he's going. eliot knows. he just doesn't want to believe it. ] If. If it happens again, wouldn't we still be safer here? Out there is. So much. The dark. Those. Those malevolent spirits deep in the woods. The rivers. And obviously a whole lot of other bullshit we're much safer avoiding.

I’ll have the bow with me. I know battle magic.

[Correction, he knew battle magic back when he was alive and it worked best when they had the emotions bottles and he’s a mess right now. Too raw and unsettled, too angry and too upset, but what choice does he have? Sit here and watch all of this start again? Watch Eliot go through something like this, or worse, again? Heart clenching, Quentin squeezes Eliot’s hand.]

I love you, Eliot. So fucking much. I’ll come home, I promise.

[ his grip tightens. he can feel quentin slipping away. just like that. like it never mattered. ]

What if you can't? [ he doesn't bother hiding the fear this time. ] What if you find it somehow and get. Get stuck out there, and can't come back. What am I supposed to do then? Quentin. Please. Please. I- I. Can't lose you again.

[ and he means that. everything already feels like too much.

he winces as he forces himself to admit the next. ] I need you here.

I'll-- look, I talked to some guy named Peter? He's-- I'll be wearing a tracker and he's going to keep an eye out. I'm going to come back.

[And it's breaking his heart, saying this. Doing this, because Eliot looks so fucking scared again, like he never does, not even while facing down monster and beasts. Not even while sighing his life away, and Quentin swallows hard.]

I can't just stay here and do nothing.

[And be useless, yet again, because he's waiting for someone bigger, or better, or smarter to finish this. This feelings of being of no use to anyone, and it's there, it right there, in every one of his words and every time he clings to Eliot because he needs him so much. That's he's never going to be the one to save anyone, from anything. He turns to Eliot and slips one of his hands up to cup the side of his face.]

I need you to be safe. That's all I want. For you to be safe.

Edited 2019-10-28 20:39 (UTC)

[ the knife twists as quentin justifies everything by saying that staying is just doing nothing, and eliot has to wonder if he's been more of a burden the whole while than he'd realized. had the hallucinations really made him such a trouble that quentin could find it so utterly unbearable? had it become a chore?

he withdraws his hand anxiously and sit straighter. he doesn't want to look weak. not if that's what quentin is hinging on. quentin had said he could be whatever eliot needed, but eliot had clearly overstepped his bounds somehow, asked for too much somewhere without realizing it. ]

How can I be safe if I don't also know that you are?

[ 'he doesn't care,' he hears mike say even without hearing a damn thing. 'he never needed you around to get shit done.' ]

I don't know, okay? I don't-- I just--

[Hands falling in to his lap because Eliot pulled away and Quentin? Quentin hunches his shoulders, free hands twisting together. He wishes briefly for a coin, just to have something to do with his hands, because nothing he's saying is working. Eliot isn't even-- listening. Feeling useless, useless and worthless and Quentin sinks lower in to his seat.]

I don't know what else to do! I can't-- I can't help you. I can't-- I couldn't even help myself and I thought. I thought I'd lost you. This place did that! What the fuck is it going to do next?

[ he shrinks back as if slapped. ]

What the hell do you mean, you can't help me? You're the one that's wanting to go when I need you here. "Can't help"? You're trying to walk away from it. L. Like I'm just some kind of hopeless wreck. Like you even really tried, but what, I'm not good enough of a charity case for you?

Jesus, Q.

What? What the hell- no!

[Quentin snaps his head up, turning to Eliot so fast he's almost making himself dizzy with it, eyes burning in his face- too little sleep, too much time worrying about Eliot, about what will happen next time to close his eyes for more than an hour at a time, just lying there, holding on to Eliot and breathing, and Eliot thinks-- what?]

How? How am I helping being here? Eliot, I can barely even feed myself. I'm fucking useless here! I still feel like I'm cracking up. You-- you need someone strong and I'm not? I'm just not right now, but I can find a way out, I can find a way out and you never have to feel like this again. Ever.

[ eliot folds his arms against his body, knuckles white from grasping so tightly onto his elbows. ]

Can you even hear me? I feel like I'm just.

[ did he imagine it? had he imagined finding q? making it out alive. had quentin even been there? or was it like mike too? ]

What happened to figuring things out together? You. We both said. [ in a long distant dream. it feels like months ago now, but it had only been weeks. ] Why is that not good enough now? How is this somehow so different? I don't. Understand. Why you think I need someone. "Strong"? I already said that I need you. I only need you. Does that just. Not matter at all here?

Quentin? [ he feels raw, like he's just walked out from the happy place again, and here's this stranger in front of him who doesn't want to know him, doesn't want to remember. i'm alive in here. ] Fifty years.

Oh god, Eliot, jesus. Don't--

[Like a rubber-band stretched too hard and Quentin just snaps, mouth quivering and hands shaking, reaching for Eliot and his stiff shoulders. He's wrapping both arms around him before he even has a chance to think, burying his face in Eliot's hair.]

No, no. No, that's not-- no, never. I just can't-- I feel so fucking useless. Of course it matters, it's all that matters. You are all that matters.

[Muttered in to Eliot's curls, Quentin's hands fisting in to his shirt. because yeah, fifty years and a lifetime together and it was never going to be enough.] I want-- we can figure it out together and this, this is the best I've got. Going out to look before it's too late.

[ he crumbles in an instant against quentin, grasping on for dear life, feeling everything fading despite the contact. ]

Then why are you leaving? I. I d- don't. Wh- why?

[ and that's all he can think as his heart seems to collapse under its own weight, feeling so stressed and heavy. meaningless. how is it that he just can't get through? quentin says one thing but then immediately another, and it's still as if eliot is imagining everything he's ever felt for him, that the connection was never real, because if it was, why can't quentin hear him?

he's practically invisible. ]

Why? [ he can only parrot it, the sorrow swallowing anything else. he's supposed to be enough. he's meant to be. isn't that what all of the trouble had been? that he hadn't put more faith into it from the start? except everything now is a contradiction to every affirmation, every murmur, every kiss.

'you're worse than a trophy wife,' he can almost hear mike say. 'how could you ever think i would have really loved you?' ]

I'm not leaving.

[Because he's not, he's looking and there's a difference. There's a difference between leaving and looking and he's doing the latter. For so many reasons that all boil down to I don't want you to suffer but he can't say that. Can't find the words that will make Eliot see that this is all for him, for them.]

I want to find a way out.

[Helplessly and he hugs Eliot tighter, as tightly as he can and breathes him in, heart heavy and thundering in his chest.]

But you are. [ quentin can spin it any way he wants, but he is leaving. he knows how desperately eliot needs him right now. clearly that must be true or he wouldn't be holding him this way. but he still wants to go. ] You said you'd stay. Wherever I am. That I won't lose you?

But you're not. Y- you're leaving. And. You. You don't-- You didn't even want me along? You got everything by yourself, and you ignored me, and you--

[ somehow, he manages to crumple more into himself, and he staves back a sob. there are times when he thinks he knows quentin better than anyone, how lucky he is to have quentin who believes in him. this is not one of those moments. quentin doesn't believe in him at all, and it hurts so horrible it suffocates. ]

What am I supposed to do if you go?

... I--

[And Eliot is right, a little. That he did it all by himself, that Quentin stuck his head in the sand and found the first reason, the first quest he could make up for himself against all reason and all warnings and he threw himself at it. Alone, and wholeheartedly and he ran away, ran in to the next new thing to take him away from all the hard and difficult feelings in the aftermath of insanity.

Quentin shakes his head.]

I don't know. I don't-- I don't know, and I don't know what else to do and it's not because of you. Or, yes, it's because I want to save you, not because-- I'm not ignoring you? I'm just.

[Running, rushing off, and making plans with someone who isn't Eliot, who isn't close to Quentin's heart at all because he could stand to lose every last one of them if it meant keeping Eliot safe. And that's also selfish. That urge, that drive that he kept nagging Julia about, that he stopped plans for and more people died because of Quentin's complete inability to not save Eliot.

This one time.

Because he hadn't been able to before.

Guilt.

And he slumps down over Eliot, shoulders shaking and chest heaving.]

I don't know how else to help you.

[ he sobs then, feeling so hopeless. even quentin thinks he's beyond any help, beyond his help, and eliot hadn't realized when he'd stop being enough. q needed other things. needed things that felt like they actually mattered or made a difference, and he was just. not who quentin needed. at all. ]

I'm sorry. I'll. I'll be better. I'll try harder. I'll do whatever you want. Whatever you need me to do, okay?

I- if you have to go, I won't--

Then you should go.

I never meant to hold you back.

Edited 2019-10-29 21:33 (UTC)

You're... not?

[Quentin pulls back from the hug enough to look at Eliot, the dark circles under his eyes and the tense way he holds his shoulders, not even looking at Quentin. And Eliot always looks at Quentin. It's unsettling and Quentin blinks, frowning.]

Wait? What? No, that's not. Eliot, that's not it. You're-- you're already everything to me? You don't have to be-- what, better? I don't even know what that means, because you're the best. You're-- you. And I'm-- [Quietly and almost a whisper as he looks away, lips trembling.]

Falling apart?

How can I be if I'm not worth staying for? Not-- [ he shakes his head. feeling so empty and cold now that quentin's drawn away. he presses harder into himself trying to shove back all the emotions normally tucked neatly behind his mental barriers. quentin doesn't need to see all this. quentin doesn't want all this nonsense. he just wants to go. stop wasting his time.

eliot takes a moment to swallow it all back, force down every fear as he blinks back tears that never fell because he's not supposed to be anything but pristine. that's what quentin needs from him, right? that's the person that quentin fell in love with, not the mess hidden so well underneath. ]

It's fine. I. Shouldn't have assumed so much. [ only when he's sure he's collected himself does he dare look back up at quentin, tone and expression muted. ] I'm just. Complicating things now. But you have a plan and. And help. [ from someone that isn't him, but he shoves the thought away as soon as it enters. ] If there isn't anything for you to do here, then it makes sense.

[It's kind of amazing, in a scary kind of way. The way Eliot pulls away, not with his body as much as all of the emotions draining away from his face- his mouth relaxes, the angry, frustrated lines between his eyes and around his lips smooth out and between one blink and the next, Eliot looks almost completely different.

Quentin frowns.

Eliot looks almost placid. Almost calm, with a casual arch of his eyebrow at Quentin and a roll of his shoulders, like they're talking about nothing more important than dinner or who's turn it is to do the dishes. (Quentin's, it's always Quentin's because Eliot cooks and it's only fair, but the argument still comes up).

Looking like he did back at Brakebills, too aloof and too above it all to care about what mere mortals thought and Quentin hasn't seen that look on Eliot's face in years. Maybe last time, was Eliot mentioning in a throw-away line that Margo had sold his newborn daughter to the fairies.

Or maybe it's the hazy image of Eliot laying on the mosaic, all smiles and warmth as Quentin kissed Arielle and there's a part of him that's always suspected that maybe Eliot hadn't been as okay with that as he said he was. That accepting Quentin's marriage had been just another way for Eliot

To give

Quentin

What Quentin thought

He needed.

Like now.]

You are. You're worth staying for, Eliot. I-- maybe I don't tell you that enough, or maybe I just suck at doing it? But you're worth staying for.

[ quentin says it, but eliot doesn't know that he feels it. at all. anymore. still, he smiles, the one that always comes a little too easily, and lowers his arms, eases back in his seat. maybe it's better this way. quentin knows what he needs better than eliot ever could. if that means quentin has to go out, do something else with someone new, then eliot can only oblige. you sacrifice for the people you love. maybe he hasn't been doing his part. or maybe this is what he deserves for having doubted in the first place.

but he'll take whatever left quentin is willing to give, for however long he's still willing to give it. but mike was right, apparition or not. he's not enough. ]

It's okay, Q. I get it. [ the corner of his lip quirks more, but it doesn't reach his eyes. ] I'll just. [ smile falling away, ] Hold the fort. Make sure things don't get too crazy while you're gone.

D-Day

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