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The first time Margaret’s eyes lock with Louisa’s is when she opens the door on a fateful misty morning and looks down to see her practically cowering from her. There’s stains on her expensive dress and a clear feeling of shame about them.
But, when she talks, as unsteady as her voice is, it’s not an offer Margaret can say no to.
–
The second time Louisa is knocking at her door, it's to inform her of Fitzgerald’s demands. Margaret starts to note a pattern.
–
“Ya don’t want much, do you?” Margaret comments as she peers into what little is illuminated of Louisa’s room. Plans all for another, never for her.
Louisa adjusts her glasses, not meeting her eyes. “I just want what you do.” She shrugs like the weight of the entire sky is crushing her. It’s in every aspect of her posture, how she holds herself like she’s trying to shrink into nothing.
–
Louisa is far away, on something living made mechanical, when a hellhound rips Margaret apart and sends Nathaniel down a spiraling, devilish path.
And maybe she mourns more than she should be allowed, upon hearing the news. After all, what reason would she have to be on Margaret’s mind?
They hardly spoke, hardly saw one another.
So Louisa tries to steel her heart and move on.
–
She’s not allowed to even do that. Nathaniel’s mind becomes warped. Fitzgerald needs a weapon.
And god, it has to be her.
–
The world has been destroyed almost beyond repair and then rebuilt, when Margaret can finally step out of a hospital room. She has a cane to help her stay balanced, the Guild is in shambles, and Nathaniel’s mind has been lost while his body is nowhere to be found. She feels like a ghost, mentally stuck in an earlier time, unsure how to exist with all of the changes that occurred before she woke.
But then Louisa finds her, the same as she’s always been, and Margaret is soothed just a little.
–
It becomes a regular occurrence—Louisa and Margaret together. Getting lunch or going shopping or simply chatting over tea. It’s a nice pattern to fall into.
–
Margaret knocks on the door of Louisa’s office. She opens it after a moment, and when Margaret peers into the room past her, she sees that it’s the same as her room was back on the Zelda , and on the Moby Dick. Plans plastered over the walls, documents and articles and photographs lining every spare inch of space. Books open on her desk and the floor. All that effort—
only for someone else.
“Did you want something?” Louisa asks, pushing her glasses up.
Do you? Margaret thinks. And then: Do any of us?
Is it a matter of if they want, or is it a matter of knowing that the things they want are all impossibilities?
–
Margaret knocks on Louisa’s door like a miracle.
Like an impossibility, like something she never expected to hear again. She hurries over, not wanting to keep her waiting, and asks:
“Did you want something?”
Margaret simply stares at her for a moment, as if she’s grown a second head. The question seems to catch her off guard, though Louisa isn’t sure why. It’s the safest assumption for why Margaret has come to her.
The moment passes, and Margaret replies, “I was wondering if you might like to get cake?”
It hits Louisa, then, as she glances back towards her calendar. She’s not very good at keeping track of time, when she gets lost in the haze of her ability, but—
Today’s date. November 8th.
She turns back to Margaret with a smile. “Of course.”
–
They get cake, one slice to split between them.
Nothing is the same as it used to be, and grief hangs heavy in their hearts, but it’s a step towards getting better. It’s enough to celebrate in simplicity.
It’s one thing that they both want, and one thing they can both have.