Chapter Text
Eliot opened his eyes. Looking around, he realised he was in the Physical Kids' cottage once more. His room to be exact.
He lifted his head off the pillow and let it fall back down in frustration.
The same bed, the same room, the same surroundings over and over. He was so tired of it all.
Sure, he could have hosted a tea party with his imaginary/dream friends again ,or a party in general, but everytime he would conjure them through his memories, the pain of missing the real thing would increase immensely.
He had no concept of time in his head and that worried him. How long had he been in there, trapped in his own fucking body by a psycho monster? Were his friends trying to get him out? Were they even ok?
The never-ending, unanswered questions whirled around his mind as he thrust his head on his pillow once more. He was tired. Angry. And that freshly-brewed coffee smell was violating his senses.
Great, now he had sensory hallucinations, too. This was just so great.
Suddenly, his door creaked open and a few seconds later a small head peeked from behind it. Alice. Okay, this was turning into a nightmare. Maybe a joke, he couldn't decide.
Alice looked exactly as he remembered; blonde, petite, with disproportionately large breasts. She and her steaming cup of coffee let themselves in.
"Did I daydream you into existence somehow? Then again why the heck would I?" he scoffed.
She stood there for a few seconds processing his words. Ultimately, though, she didn't care enough to fully analyze them. "I knew I heard something. And I apologize for checking in on you, jackass, while everyone else is away."
Sipping from her cup, she watched almost in amusement as Eliot started to realise he was neither in a dream nor a memory. He jolted up and then quickly fell back onto the bed, also realising for the first time that he was aching all over.
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, don't worry about it. The pain will go away eventually. You were almost fried to death from what I was told." She took another small sip. "Well, good talk. I'll go...get someone else."
And with that she was gone.
"What the fuck is going on?" he said to himself. Pushing through the pain, he managed to prop himself up a bit, resting his back on the wooden bedframe. "Wow, that hurts. Wait, did she just say I was almost 'fried to death'?"
"Eliot!" His door flung open, with force enough to pull it off its hinges and a sparkly-eyed Margo jumped into the room. He could tell she had just barely stopped herself from literally body-slamming him right then and there.
Instead, she calmly sat next to him on his ivory, silk sheets. She swiftly gave him a one-over and once she had apparently evaluated his condition, she wrapped her arms around him gently, not saying another word.
"Bambi...Am I really back?" he asked, frozen in place by disbelief.
She hugged him tighter than before and only let go as she felt him wince from pain. She took his face in her hands, her eyes dancing from left to right as she looked into his own.
“Fuck, I missed you, Eliot!” her voice an almost inaudible whisper. Her eyes, Eliot noticed, were filled to the brim with tears yet her cheeks were still dry.
He rested a shaking palm on her right cheek as he felt his own twitching. Both just stayed there, eyes locked and cheeks finally wet. He was really back. The monster was gone. And she was real. The thought lingered in his mind for a few more seconds but he was still unsure. Spending so much time inside your own mind, repeatedly living inside your memories does that to you. So, he gave her a small smile and then leaned in for a small peck on the lips. Pulling back, he knew. He knew that this girl in front of him was real. There was nothing romantic or erotic about the kiss, just the need -for both of them- to confirm that this was not a dream.
Filled with glee, she pulled him into her arms once more, his head now nested on her chest. “Honestly”, she finally spoke “when Q told me you were still alive there inside that body, I-I doubted him for so long…” She paused. She felt so guilty for even considering that he was dead back then. And she knew that a lifetime of her holding him in her arms wouldn’t make her feel any less guilty. “I am such a stupid cunt, El. I had given up on ever seeing you again. I’m so, so sorry. Instead of helping Q and Julia save you I was back in Fillory, having political debates with talking animals.”
Eliot could hear her heart beating faster by the second. He looked up and grabbed her by the shoulders. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, pain and shame weighing her head down. He shook her gently.
“Crap, what happened to you, Bambi? I thought Quentin was the self-loathing mascot around here,” he joked but immediately choked on his own words.
“Oh, fuck, Q. Is he okay? By the Gods is he okay?”
Margo’s eyes met his for a split moment before dropping down again. With a small sigh, she spoke again.
“Define ‘okay’."