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“Hey.” Quentin flinches under her hand at the lightest brush of her fingertips against his shoulder, so Julia circles the table's edge and lowers herself into the chair across from him. Frankie's bear might be gone, but by the time Kady and Penny had gotten the deweys Quentin had received the worst news he could have gotten. “Do you want to talk about it?” She whispers the words gently, and Quentin shakes his head as he slumps further into the chair. They sit silently as Julia maps his pose, trying to read every inch of him for signs of what he's feeling inside.
Her best friend sits with one arm propped aimlessly on the chair to his left, while the other lies listlessly on the table. A double old-fashioned glass filled half-full of amber liquid sits in the cup of his lax fingers. As the silence stretches his eyes dart first to her, then up toward the ceiling, then to the glass. His fingers tighten and he brings the glass edge to his lips.
“Should you be drinking right now?” The dry humorless laugh she gets in response presses all the danger buttons in Julia's mind. It reminds her that when Quentin is sad he can also be mean, and petty.
“No. I definitely should not be.” Quentin notches the glass in her direction, then takes another drink to emphasize his point.
“Maybe you should check yourself in somewhere. I can... Julia reaches for her phone and fumbles it loose from her pocket. “We can find a place.” Maybe they could get Quentin one of the self-harm potions. Brakebills kept some on hand. Fogg owes them; she could send Penny to steal his whole stash.
“I'm not doing that.” Quentin puts the glass down.
“Then talk to me, Q. Please. Talk to somebody. Me or Kady or Margo...”
“Margo.” Quentin's voice practically drips with disdain. “Is. The. Reason. This. Happened.” His voice pitches mid-sentence. “And Kady knew going in that the bigger the risk the worse it would be on my end. So par-don me if I don't want to talk to either of them right now.”
“I know what you're dealing with is overwhelming.”
“You have no idea what I'm dealing with.” Quentin hisses.
“Then tell me.” Julia squares her feet, interlocks her fingers, and leans toward him with her elbows planted on her knees. Quentin takes another sip of his drink, purses his lips, then puts the glass back on the table. His head turns so he's talking more to the wall than to her.
“Brian, the other me, his father died when he was too little to understand. All his problems were like that. No sharp edges. No depression, magic, or Beast to make his life miserable. That me loved his job! He had an easy time with relationships, and when he found the right guy they were really really happy together.” Julia can see his eyes glistening. “Fogg, he didn't follow the graphic novel like he did for the rest of you. He was supposed to split us up, but we already had that little place in Brooklyn. So he, maybe we made him guilty enough that he let us stay together and keep it.”
“I was Kim when he told me about the spell.” Julia whispered. “He told me that his life was full of regrets, but the biggest was putting us under that spell. Fogg did it because our lives were in danger. He never expected to be able to correct it. Henry was being deliberately vague when he explained it to me. Apparently, he changed the plan at the last minute. Leaving you and...” Julia falters. They're dancing around Eliot's name, neither willing to be the first to say it aloud. “Letting you two stay married, even with new identities pissed off Zelda when she found out. He said she was worried that it would jeopardize the protection spell. I think giving you two that much was the only part of his decision he was proud of. There was an antidote, but when Marina dosed him he refused to use it. He gave up his identity because it meant protecting us.”
“That's... something.” Quentin raises the tumbler back to his lips.
“If Margo and Kady are guilty...” Julia tilts her head to the left and focuses on the wall opposite the one Quentin is staring down. “Then I am too. I ruined Fogg's spell. The two of you would still be living your best lives if I hadn't destroyed the battery powering the cloaking spell.
“We lived our best lives in Fillory.” Quentin's hands are suddenly gripping hers, gripping and squeezing, and drawing Julia's attention back to him. The listless veneer he'd been wearing when she'd sat down momentarily lifts and Julia gets her first glimpse of the rawness it covers. “I'm grateful for what you did, Julia. The life El...” Quentin stops and squeezes his eyes closed. The tears trickle down his cheeks. “...Eliot and I had in Fillory isn't one I'd trade for a magicless mundane quiet life in fucking Brooklyn!”
“Q...”
“Maybe we shouldn't have stepped back when we did. We paid a hell of a fucking price for it; we should have just sucked it up and saw the damn thing through. If he and I had gone to Blackspire we might have been able to stop Alice and Margo from fucking everything up. You wouldn't have lost your powers if Alice hadn't ruined the original set of keys; Margo wouldn't have released that thing when she tried to kill it.”
“Why didn't you?” The question escapes before Julia can stop it. She might have been off with Iris when the decision had been made but she knows the answer already. As a goddess, she had possessed a sensitive spot for the emotions of her family. Eliot had been unsettled after the time key, by the time he'd lost his throne he'd been drowning.
“We weren't supposed to survive the Mosaic, Jules. Eliot and I made peace with that almost immediately. We gave the quest fifty fucking beautiful years! We should have been done. Then Jane and Margo tripped up the timeline and we had to start all over again. Quentin scrubs at his face. A snort of laughter escapes his throat.
“You were a goddess! How are you not furious?” He demands.
“We got magic back.”
“But it's not really what we wanted.”
“The world is a little bit brighter for most people, even if they'll never know why. My part in it? I knew the cost, and I wouldn't change it. The library fucked up, and I hate them. Then I remember how much better I made Josh's life by blowing a few stupid smoke rings. I gave him hope; you can't give up on hope, Q.”
“My best friend, the man I married, is dead Julia. Eliot's dead. You were sitting next to me when that thing hijacking his corpse told me his soul is gone.” Quentin's voice is rising. “You know what that means right? That even when I die, I'm never going to see him again. Do you really think for a second that I want to die knowing that?” He quiets again. Julia can see the mix of desperation and rage inside him. “You don't have to worry about me. I'm not going anywhere until I've found a way to stop that thing.” Quentin is lining up for the fight, but Julia isn't convinced that he's ready for all that might entail.
“It could have lied.” Julia murmurs.
“I'm not that lucky on a good day.” She raises her hand and pushes it against his chest, over his heart.
“If his soul is dead you would know. You would know as intrinsically as you breathe. The monster wouldn't have had to tell you. So think about it for a minute. Is he dead or is that thing keeping him trapped to manipulate you?” Quentin's face pinches in misery and he sags backward in the chair. The heel of his hand presses against the orbital bone surrounding his eye.
“I haven't seen any indication that Eliot's still in there.” He whispers. “I don't know. I need some time I guess. To process it.” He sits a little, and for the first time, they make eye contact. “If he's still alive you know I'm going to do whatever that thing wants to keep him that way, right?” The sincerity Julia hears concerns her. The thing holding Eliot's body hostage is little more than an uncontrollable toddler
“We have to be smart about this Q. What would it do to Eliot if he survives this and you don't?” He winces and breaks his gaze away from hers.
“I love him so much, Jules. He didn't deserve this.”
“I know.” Julia squeezes his hands. “I know, Q.” She wishes she could lie to him and pretend that all their problems could be easily solved. “You just have to hold on until we know for sure.”