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Maggie, it’s over.
Over.
She doesn’t remember the last time such a simple phrase cleaved her so deeply. Isobel was referring to the day’s events, Maggie knows deep down, but under the weight of all the tension, in the shadow of the case, it had felt like something more.
Like they are over.
Maggie would find it strange, just how much that hurts, if not for being so hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her. They didn’t date, and yet the heartache is still as painful as if that were true. No, she thinks. Worse. This eclipses any real breakup she’s ever had, despite losing someone that was never even hers.
This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
She’d wanted to be in Isobel’s corner, to have her back, to relieve some of the stress of such a high stakes case where nobody with information had wanted to cooperate. She knows where it all went wrong. Even if it had only lasted a second, Maggie had already memorized the flash of betrayal on Isobel’s face when she was interrupted. She’d thought Maggie’s concern was doubt, disapproval – mistrust. That she was opposed to the plan, thought it immoral and Isobel the same. In truth, Maggie’s only worry had been for her.
Of course, her wording had been terrible. Are you sure you want to double down? Isobel had misheard all the things intended by that question, better used to being needlessly challenged, and it had already been too late for Maggie to clarify what had gone unspoken – are you sure you can live with this? Are you sure you won’t regret it? Are you sure you can handle the guilt?
She’d thought she could fix it later, that she could clear the air and undo the damage, except somehow that had managed to go wrong, too. She’d walked into Isobel’s office wanting mutual reassurance, but Isobel had heard an accusation, assuming she was there to blame her just as everyone else always does. Maggie thinks it was inevitable the moment she stepped through the door – nobody approaches Isobel after a case for anything but. She was already bracing for it.
Only, she didn’t put up a fight. Though what they did was justified, she didn’t try to claim so. Isobel had taken the blame willingly, burdened all of it and the guilt onto her own shoulders just to hopefully spare Maggie from them, and Maggie hadn’t known how to untangle her from the mess they’d made. There was no absolution.
Now she lays slumped on her couch, staring up at the ceiling, too heartsick to even pour a third glass of wine. She hadn’t been able to go to the dinner after that. It had been Maggie’s last line of hope – a chance to repair the fracture between them and forget about the case – but Isobel wasn’t even going. She had a Knicks game, though Maggie knows sports are so far removed from what Isobel likes. It had been easy to read between the lines, then – a date.
Her chest still aches unbearably at the thought, almost nauseating. It feels as though she’ll die of the heartbreak, but at least that would be a relief. Any current reprieve is only temporary. Whether she gets drunk enough to potentially forget or goes straight to bed, it makes no difference. The pain will still assault her the very moment she lays eyes on Isobel at the office tomorrow. There is no escaping it – however unintentionally, she hurt the one person who has always trusted her without question, and the thought makes her sick.
She knows that even if she tried to sleep, that fact would only haunt her dreams, too. Maybe that’s why she’s still laying numbly on the couch, as if she could ever get used to this suffocating feeling, so ineluctable that it’s made a home in her bones.
She would’ve stayed there all night, until she finally had the good fortune of passing out, if not for the sudden interruption of her doorbell. She almost manages not to hear it, glancing listlessly towards the door, entirely tempted not to answer.
She’s not sure what makes her get up. She doesn’t even mean to, but she’s already halfway across the room before she can stop herself. Maybe it’s just reflexive, even if it’s not often that she gets visitors – why would anybody be here this late? Her arm feels heavy as she presses the button on the intercom.
“Who is it?” she asks tiredly, voice scratching at her throat. She’s half-expecting it to be OA, checking up on her for skipping the group’s dinner, and already plans to turn him away. Well-meaning as he may be, she cannot even pretend to be in the mood.
Only, it isn’t him outside.
In fact, it’s the last person she would’ve expected – a voice she would recognize even if she wasn’t capable of hearing anything at all.
“It’s Isobel.”
Maggie’s breath and heart catch painfully in tandem. Words abandon her. Isobel. She almost wonders if she’s dreaming. Or perhaps it’s just a ghost – her love lost’s incorporeal form. For a long moment, all she can do is stare at the intercom. Maggie buzzes her into the building without a response, only to immediately leave the apartment with enough disbelief that she does it barefoot, straight to the elevator.
It comes when she calls it, already heading down, but she still hurriedly presses the button for the ground floor before the doors fully glide shut behind her. It's almost agony, the waiting. She is too impatient to endure even thirty seconds, dragging on eternally until, suddenly, everything stops, and the elevator mercifully, finally, opens again.
She’s half-expecting to be met with emptiness, but it wasn’t a dream or a ghost after all. Although Maggie last saw her only hours ago, Isobel is still a sight to behold – as captivating as hope at the end of the world. Maggie has memorized her so perfectly over the years that it isn’t hard to notice the slight dishevelment, or the tired look in her eyes even as they widen in surprise, and they stare at each other for so long that the elevator doors start to close again.
They move forward to stop them at the same time, hands millimeters apart where they both touch the metal, and suddenly they’re dangerously close in the gap left behind – until Maggie abruptly thinks to move back, making space, and Isobel hesitantly follows, stepping inside. It's obvious she hasn't been home yet, still in her work clothes, but that also means...
“Aren’t you meant to be at a Knicks game?” Maggie asks just as the elevator starts moving, glancing over at her, hopeless to resist. If she cannot even manage it at work, when she has a dozen other things to focus on, she certainly cannot now – after longing all evening.
“Aren’t you meant to be at the dinner?” Isobel asks in turn, sounding just as tired as she looks. Even without her tone betraying it, Maggie knows that she feels guilty – that she thinks what they did today was so upsetting it stopped Maggie from going, and it’s her fault. Of course, that’s not the truth at all. Isobel might be the reason Maggie didn’t go, but only because she didn’t see the point in being there without her.
She thinks too late to tell her as much, caught out by the elevator coming to a stop. It’s only as she listens to Isobel’s heels click faintly against the floor that she finally registers herself wearing only socks, glad that Isobel hasn’t mentioned it – even though she’s certainly noticed. It’s a relief to finally reach her apartment again, and she leans back against the door the moment she closes it behind them.
It’s almost surreal, to see Isobel standing there when just ten minutes ago, Maggie had been lamenting on the heartache of having to see her in the morning. It's not the first time she’s been here, when they’ve shared wine on Maggie’s couch a few times over the years, but that’s certainly not the reason for her visit now. “What are you doing here?” Maggie asks, bemused, just as Isobel turns to face her.
Isobel sighs, hesitant in her answer. She didn’t think Maggie would actually be here, but perhaps it was fate. After all, the only time she ever thinks such a thing might be real is when it comes to Maggie. “I came to apologize,” she admits, knowing the truth is her only choice – Maggie will see right through anything else, and Isobel has always tried to be honest with her.
It’s not the reason Maggie’s expecting. There’s a sudden ache deep in her chest. “You cancelled your date just to apologize to me?” she says, reading between the lines. It sounds hard to believe, but then so had Isobel’s voice through the intercom.
Isobel scowls slightly, but the annoyance is only for her own idiocy. "I couldn’t go to that stupid game and pretend to be interested in him. Not after we...” She trails off, averting her gaze. That fling had been a lie from the very start – it's always a lie – and she couldn’t bring herself to go along with it anymore. Not after appearing to lose the one relationship she actually cherishes – with the only person who likes and cares about her as she is. There's no need for her to pretend with Maggie.
For some reason, Maggie hadn’t thought the fracture between them would weigh on Isobel so heavily. That had been naive. She remembers that flash of betrayal again, the hurt at thinking Maggie no longer trusted her – the same as everyone else. Perhaps it shouldn’t be a wonder that she’s here. Their reasons for abandoning their evening plans aren’t so different.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Maggie insists gently, finally pushing away from the door. She returns to the couch and motions for Isobel to follow, watching as she falters for a moment before doing so. She might blame herself for today, but never at any point had Maggie thought to do the same.
“Of course I do,” Isobel protests, sitting tentatively beside Maggie. She sets her bag by her feet and immediately starts to fidget without it, twisting the ring on her thumb. It’s a sign of unease, Maggie knows, resisting the urge to reach out and rest a hand over hers. “I put you in a position you didn’t want to be in when it wasn’t necessary – I should’ve gone into that interrogation room alone.” What she doesn’t seem to realize is that Maggie never would have let her, that even if she’d been told to observe instead, she would’ve still followed Isobel through that door.
“Maybe it was a little selfish of me...” Isobel continues, voice a touch quieter. “Nobody has my back in this job as much as you do.” She always knows that if there is anyone she can trust without question, it’s Maggie. The only person to never disobey, to never lie, to never go behind her back. However dark things get, however hopeless, Isobel need only turn around – and there she’ll be. Except she isn’t sure how true that will be after today, forcing her gaze to meet Maggie’s. “I value your trust more than anything in the world, and I can’t stand that I broke it today.”
There is a look in her eyes that Maggie hates, a regret and sorrow that easily rival how heartbroken she herself has felt ever since leaving that office. It seems even in this, they are of the same mind. “You didn’t,” Maggie tells her softly, and when she only seems doubtful, it’s hard to refrain from reassuring her with physical touch. Instead, all Maggie can do is hope to convince her. “Isobel, if I hadn't liked or trusted your plan, I would’ve made it very clear.”
Isobel frowns, still uncertain even despite believing her. It’s true that they have always made an effort to be transparent with one another, and yet she can’t help thinking back to earlier. “But you asked if I was sure I wanted to...” She stops short, but Maggie knows how the sentence ends, already haunted by the words responsible for making Isobel look at her like that.
“I didn’t ask that because I didn't trust you,” she clarifies, better late than never. “I was worried – I was asking if you were sure you could live with what we planned to do.” Isobel is better than anyone else Maggie knows at separating herself from their work, but it is only out of necessity – survival. She cannot afford to let her conscience or morals sway her decisions when people’s lives and safety are on the line, but Maggie knows that underneath it all, everything she does weighs unbearably on her soul.
“I thought the guilt would eat away at you because it always does,” Maggie explains softly, “and I was right.” She has watched, one too many times, as Isobel’s entire being has dulled and wearied when she thinks nobody’s looking, but she will never be good enough to hide it from Maggie.
Isobel can only stare at her in disbelief. It’s unprecedented – to have someone care about her. Historically, nobody ever gives a fuck, let alone when it comes to the impact of her job. It is quicker and easier for people to assume she is heartless, that she makes the decisions she does because she simply doesn’t care and only desires results. They want someone to blame and don’t bother to consider if the cost of it all weighs on her, too.
That is, except for Maggie. The only one who seems capable of separating her from the choices she has to make as SAC.
“Maybe I was selfish, too,” Maggie admits, echoing Isobel’s own words. Truthfully, she doesn’t think either of them was selfish for finding solace in the other, but perhaps if she condemns herself the same way, Isobel will realize how unreasonable it sounds. “I came to your office because I wanted reassurance. I knew we felt the same way – nobody else would understand like you, but...”
Maggie sighs under her breath, smiling faintly. Isobel did try to reassure her, just not in the way she would’ve liked. “You moved all the guilt and responsibility onto your own shoulders, just for the hope that it might make me feel better to be told it wasn't my fault, but that isn’t what I wanted,” Maggie tells her. It had been her own decision to stay on the case despite Isobel gently offering to let her leave, and it had been her own decision to go along with the plan. She hadn’t been coerced or guilted. It had been a duty of care, almost, to stand by Isobel at every step, and Maggie had been happy to see that duty through.
“I don’t blame you, Isobel,” she says, voice as soft as the way she looks at her. “We were in it together.” They have always been a team – two minds intertwined in duet. It’s an unspoken promise that even when everyone else fails them, they can always turn to each other. Maggie’s loyalty is undying, and Isobel’s trust in her unfailing. It’s not entirely unsurprising that she would try to burden herself with all the guilt to spare her, but she forgets that Maggie would never let her.
Isobel struggles for something to say that isn’t an apology, knowing that it won't be wanted. Perhaps she should’ve known better than to think Maggie would fault her, when even up until the very end, she considered them two halves of a whole in this – I know why we did what we did. Isobel has gotten so used to people blaming her when the outcome isn’t what they would’ve liked, that she’d managed to ignore the fact that Maggie understands her better than anyone else ever has.
That’s why she’d asked about the dinner, Isobel realizes far too late. It had been an olive branch. A reassurance. The words unspoken in that question had been the ones that mattered most, but she’d been too inundated by the guilt to hear them – and the way Maggie had looked after learning that she wouldn’t be there... “Why didn’t you go to the dinner?” she asks, wondering if she’d imagined the disappointment, when she cannot see why her not being there would make a difference.
It’s only then that Maggie falters. It’s almost indiscernible, but Isobel can always tell, as familiar with Maggie’s mannerisms as if they were her own. “Because it wouldn't have felt right without you,” Maggie admits after a long pause, balanced so close to the edge of confession that she thinks she might have already gone over. “I wanted us to go together so you'd know I didn't think any less of you and we could just forget about the case. As soon as you said you had other plans, I couldn’t see the point in going.” For a brief moment, she wonders if she’s bared too much of her heart’s true intent, but the response she gets immediately distracts her from the concern.
Isobel scoffs. “I don’t understand you sometimes,” she says, looking away from her for the first time since they sat down.
Maggie blinks at her, caught off-guard. “What?”
“You skipped the dinner just because you felt bad about me not being there,” Isobel reiterates, struggling to accept her explanation. She finds it hard to believe that Maggie would be so distracted by the thought of her, so bothered by her absence, that not going at all was the better option. “Why do you care so much? Nobody else does.”
Maggie smiles wryly. “Nobody else would cancel a date just to apologize to me,” she points out, still not entirely sure why Isobel did. Maggie doesn’t doubt that their relationship is important to her, but that much? She thinks back to Isobel making an enemy out of a congresswoman with her, sat right beside her in court, about to give a hacker leniency at her request, visiting her hospital room over and over, and somehow only just realizes, yes, that much.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Isobel says, undeterred.
Why do you care so much?
The reason is, of course, because Maggie loves her – because she would rearrange the stars just to spell Isobel’s name, because she would find her in every lifetime just to love her again, because everything is worth it just to see her smile. She would follow Isobel to the end of the world, her north star – always. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, that will never change. Maggie knows, then, that there is only one way she could ever answer the question truthfully. She decides if she is to be reckless in anything, it should be this. Isobel is worth the risk.
She leans in and tries not to think about how much it’ll hurt if Isobel rejects her, but there’s a long moment where she has the chance to pull away – and she doesn’t. It's all the hope Maggie needs, after longing to the point of devotion, and when their lips meet as if this was always meant to be, she knows she has been changed irrevocably.
Kissing Isobel is more than she ever dreamed and God has she dreamed. It is electric, intoxicating, otherworldly. When Isobel kisses her back, she realizes heaven is real and right in front of her. All Maggie knows is that she never wants it to end. She certainly won’t forget it – the taste, touch, movement of Isobel, as perfect as if she were made just for her. Only when her lungs burn unbearably does Maggie reluctantly pull away, but the feeling has never been so worth it as she cradles Isobel’s flushed face in both hands, somehow mesmerized by her further still.
“Oh,” Isobel breathes, lost for any other word and a little light-headed. That was... Her heart is still frantic in her chest, and she doesn’t think it will slow any time soon.
“You’ve been drinking,” Maggie murmurs, faintly tasting the sharp flavor of alcohol on her tongue. “How much?”
Isobel frowns slightly, so busy trying to process the last sixty seconds that it takes her a moment to remember. “Two whiskeys,” she answers. It had been just enough to convince her that coming here was a good idea instead of the alternative – trying to drink away her sorrows and a hangover in the morning. Certainly, she prefers this.
“'Have you eaten?” Maggie asks, suspecting she already knows the answer. There hadn't been much time amidst the investigation, and Isobel hadn’t stopped for the half of it where they were together, more interested in solving the case than her own well-being. It’s a bad habit of hers, and so no surprise when she shakes her head, still resting in Maggie’s hands. “Let me order something. I know this Mexican place that’s always open late.”
“Of course you do,” Isobel remarks, smiling softly, and she knows Maggie will only insist or keep worrying if she declines. “Order away then. I’m sure you’ll know what to get me.” Maggie has paid close enough attention to know her coffee order without being told, down to the blueberry muffin, and what to buy her for lunch. Isobel assumes that this, too, won’t require any guesswork.
“Don't I always?” Maggie says, finally letting go of her when she gets to her feet. Isobel immediately misses her touch, watching longingly as she heads into the other room, presumably in search of the menu. It’s strange to think that just an hour ago, she was convinced she’d damaged them beyond repair, but now she knows at least one thing for certain – if she has to go home tonight, she won’t let it be until Maggie kisses her again.