Chapter Text
When Margaret finally awoke from her coma, the last thing she expected to see were members of the detective agency. Looking up from her bed, which she soon noticed was in some sort of van Margaret took a good look at the faces that were smiling down at her.
“Where…am I?” she asked, exhaustion evident in her tone as a woman to her right spoke.
“You’ll be alright now; you’re among allies.”
This caused her brow to furrow. “But you are not with the Guild.”
It was then that a white haired boy spoke up. “Well, no, but Francis sent us here to help you.” At the mention of Francis, Margaret’s eyes widened.
“Lord Francis..?”
“He wanted to have Yosano heal you.”
“Yosano..?”
The woman next to her gave a nod. “That would be me.”
“But why would he-?”
“I don’t know, but you’ll be able to ask him once we bring you to him.”
This was a lot to take in, and as she attempted to make sense of it all, there were many questions plaguing her mind. Where was the rest of the Guild? Why was she still here? Why did Francis go to such lengths to heal her? What was the final outcome of the three way war?
But most importantly…where was her partner?
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It wasn’t until the members of the agency brought her back to Francis that she got the answers she sought. As Alcott got her set up with a new wardrobe, (one that was far too modern for her tastes) she explained what had happened while Margaret was in her coma. Margaret learned that she had been out of commission for months, and during that time the Agency came out on top and the guild disbanded, though Francis was trying to rebuild it. She learned that there were new enemies afoot, and that she would still be needed. She was also assured that her medical expenses would be covered and her family taken care of if she rejoined the Guild.
As Alcott finished, Margaret noticed that there was one question left unanswered.
“Where is Hawthorne?”
Alcott went silent, looking away as Margaret’s eyes narrowed. While she could understand why the Agency members wouldn’t know, she couldn’t understand how Alcott or Francis wouldn’t know the status of one of their own.
“Well?”
“Y-you’ll have to talk to Lord Francis about that-“
“Bring me to him.”
Alcott gave a nod of her head before scurrying out the door, Margaret hot on her heels. There was something not right about this, and she couldn’t help but feel as if they were hiding something.
This feeling was confirmed when she stepped into Francis’ office.
“Ah, it’s good to see you up and about again! And with a new wardrobe, I see!” he exclaimed, standing up to greet her with a smile and outstretched arms.
Margaret got straight to the point. “Where is Hawthorne?”
Francis’s smile soon dropped, the air about him deflating as his expression turned into something more serious.
“A lot has happened, you see.”
“Like what?”
He paused before breathing deeply. “Shortly after we evacuated the Moby Dick, our dear Reverend disappeared, leaving no clue or trace of his whereabouts. It wasn’t until a few months after that we found him, though he switched alliances.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying he abandoned the Guild?” Such a thing was absurd in her mind, though something in Francis’s look told her that he was telling the truth.
“Unfortunately that seems to be the case. He is currently working for one Fyodor Dostoevsky, and seems to be rather…dedicated to his new position.”
“Well isn’t there some way to get him back?”
“He was dead set on restoring your honor, and restoring you to perfect health, which was why he left.”
“W-well I’m here now. Surely if he knew that h would come back!” Margaret looked from Francis to Alcott when he noticed their shared look. “...what are you not saying?”
Francis slowly looked back to her. “If we were to bring him back, he would not be the same man you once knew.”
“What do…you mean?” she asked slowly, disbelief and dread evident in both her tone and expression as the other two Guild members exchanged a look.
“M-Mr. Hawthorne isn’t the same as before...” Alcott trailed off, looking away as Margaret turned to Francis for an answer.
“It is as we said, though perhaps it might be best if you saw for yourself.” This caused Alcott to turn to him, wide eyed.
“Are you sure that’s wise?”
“She will have to know eventually, and seeing is believing, after all.”
“But we don’t even know where he is-“
“That has already been taken care of.” Francis turned his attention back to Margaret, who was looking to him expectantly, though not without fear and anxiety. “Would you rather hear it from me, or see it for yourself?”
Without hesitation, and with little idea of what she was in store for, Margaret quickly replied, “I want to see him!”
“Very well. Follow me, Miss Mitchell.”