Chapter Text
Eliot knew they were keeping something from him. Every time he woke up, groggy and in pain, he asked for Q. He needed to talk to him. He had gotten out. He needed to be brave now. Q had done so much for him and he just. He needed to see him. To apologize. To make it right. And so, his heart fractured slightly every time Margo sidestepped his questions. He knew somehow Quentin was gone. He felt his absence much like the hole in his side. It was a very real, tangible ache. And no one. Not even his best friend would be honest with him.
It was finally after he had almost ripped his stitches open in an effort to get out of bed and "find him my goddamn self Margo" that they told him. Eyes he thought couldn't possibly look sadder, or more worried, spilled over with held-back tears when the words "Quentin died." were finally uttered. Eliot had known. He hadn't expected this revelation to take his breath. It wasn't until nurses rushed in to see what was wrong that he realized he had stood up and ripped the IV line out of his arm.
"What do you mean you sent him to the seam? What is wrong with you people?" he hollered at no one person in particular. He felt sick, dizzy, and in agonizing pain that had nothing to do with the hole in his side.
He had been enough of a hazard to himself that Lipson had drugged him heavily to make him rest until his side was healed enough that he wouldn't damage it further. With magic that should only be a few hours. When he woke up this time no one was there for him. He was relieved. He didn't want to talk. They would only try to discourage him from doing what he wanted to do next.
Margo arrived with clean clothes in hand a few minutes before the nurse came in to disconnect him from all the machinery. She looked wary but also very, very sad. "We're having a. Well, you can't have a funeral without a body so. A memorial I guess? Do you want to go?"
"Yes." He took the offered clothes and with barely a thought spelled them all black. If he was going to be forced into mourning he would do it as the widower he was. Sure, he and Q hadn't married in this timeline but. Well, it fit his mood and his aesthetic at the moment to be dressed in black. Margo didn't question it, just waited for him to get dressed. She helped him out to the bonfire where their friends were singing (a completely absurd song for the occasion actually) and weeping while burning things that had been Quentin's. He couldn't bear the thought of not keeping his Q-related things but a ripe peach seemed appropriate. Margo had brought him one of Qs old raggy black hoodies expecting him to toss that in. He couldn't. He held it up to his nose, knowing what it would smell like from years of memories unlived. And sure enough, the scent that was completely Quentin was suffused through the fabric like he was right there wearing it. After that the thought of not keeping that fabric exactly how it was was unbearable. He hid it behind his back to later squirrel away with the other things he intended to take from Qs room.
Fuck this hurt. But he couldn't cry. Not really, not the way he needed to. It would seem unbalanced for his friends. Sure he had loved Quentin for an entire lifetime, but because of his own cowardice, none of these people knew that. Seeing Eliot become completely unhinged would seem out of place when Alice was the "rightful" mourner of the group. Well, she and Julia who had known Q their whole lives. So he held it in during the weird bonfire memorial. It wasn't until Eliot was back in his room, door locked and warded, room soundproofed that he let loose. He destroyed his room. All the glass shattered into tiny fragments. And he screamed until his throat hurt. He let the tears fall that he had been holding back. He hugged Qs hoodie to his chest and wailed. And when he was done, he cleaned up his things, tucked the hoodie under his pillow, and washed his face.
Fuck this. He wasn't going to live in a world without Quentin Coldwater. It was simply not a thing he would allow. Heart tender and throat raw he walked through the halls of the cottage. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the light on in Qs room and then he was immediately hit with a wall of grief when he realized it was just Julia starting to pack up his things. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to make a scene. He snuck past Margo's room and downstairs and out the door. Either he'd bring Quentin back from the underworld tonight, or he would join him there tomorrow. That's all there was to it.
--
Margo had never seen Eliot like this and she was terrified. She loved Q too but this was something more. She didn't understand. He wasn't just sad, he was devastated. She knew he'd had a little crush on Q since day 1 but she had no idea it was this bad. He was dressed in all black. He was a mess. After months of just wanting Eliot back, she was afraid she got him back just in time to lose him again. She knew too that it was wrong to be angry at Quentin for what happened but still. It was easier to blame him when he wasn't there than it was to deal with her own or Eliot's blame in the situation.
She heard Eliot slam his bedroom door and thought about going to him but. Well, she wasn't quite over the look of betrayal and horror on his face when she told him Q had died. And, if she was honest, she was feeling a bit raw from the strange memorial. It was such bullshit. Why hadn't Penny saved Q anyway? He was a freaking psychic. And a traveler. It didn't make sense. None of it did. And now Eliot was a disaster and she had to try and figure out how to fix it.
She heard Eliot sneak down the hallway and out the front door and decided she would follow him. She was shocked to discover he was at the library. She was surprised until she saw the section of the stacks he was in. Necromancy and Ressurection. His arms were loaded down with books when he seemed to suddenly remember he had telekinesis and simply levitated the mess of them to a nearby table. "Hey El. Need any help?"
"Goddamit Bambi you scared me. Um, sure you can start reading these and write down any pertinent spells" he said as he pushed a stack of five books over towards her.
"El honey. What are we doing?"
"We have to bring him back Margo."
"But. What if we can't?"
"You don't want the answer to that."
"El." she blanched as she realized exactly what he wasn't saying
"So help me with this. chop chop."
"Fuck. Alright. Fuck" she started skimming when she remembered a spell for finding keywords that would make this go faster. "What exactly are you hoping to find?" "How to bring someone back that has been magically dispatched with. Alice said he just...dissolved. Maybe he's still in the ambient."
"Are you sure he'd want that? I mean, he had already tried to kill himself-"
"Either help me or leave but I will not sit here and listen to you talk badly about my husband."
"Husband? What the Fuck Eliot?"
Eliot sighed heavily and then told her about the mosaic timeline that she "saved" him from.
"Oh shit. Eliot. I'm so sorry. I. " her sentence trailed off as she realized he had stopped talking and gone back to searching.
It was going to be a long night.