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Louisa starts at the sound of a door opening behind her. She turns, clutching her notebook to her chest—not that she’s actually written anything new in it since coming up here; outside of her room, it serves as more of a comfort object than anything else. But she doesn’t want anyone looking regardless.
She’s a bit surprised to find Margaret is the one who has come up onto the roof. Of all those in the Guild, she is the one Louisa least expected to see here—apart from Poe, maybe, who shares her uneasiness when it comes to heights. Margaret has always presented herself as proper and mature, with no time for frivolous things like visits to a rooftop.
Margaret raises her eyebrows upon making eye contact, and Louisa quickly averts her gaze, biting down on the inside of her cheek to prevent any surprised noises from escaping. “I thought Lucy was losing her mind when she told me to check up here for you.”
“O-oh.” Louisa pushes her glasses up, forcing herself to look at Margaret again. She fixes her gaze on the neckline of Margaret’s dress, because that’s far easier than meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were looking for me. Did you need something?”
Margaret waves her hand vaguely. “It was a trivial matter. I am far more concerned about why you’ve come up here when I know you’re afraid of heights!” She strides over to Louisa, placing one hand on her shoulder while the other presses against her forehead as if checking for a fever. “Are you feeling alright?”
Louisa squeaks at the contact, squeezing her eyes shut. Margaret’s hand is warm against her, and Louisa really doesn’t mind the touch, but she shouldn’t think about that. That’s not fair to Margaret, is it?
“I’m fine!” she replies quickly.
Margaret clicks her tongue, obviously still not convinced.
“I just needed some air,” Louisa explains. “It’s not so bad up here as long as I stay away from the edge.” She looks down. “It’s better than being on the street. Or my balcony.” The sidewalks of New York City are always so crowded it’s suffocating; the mere thought often sending her into a panic. She really doesn’t leave the Guild headquarters at all unless she’s going somewhere with Fitzgerald and they have a driver picking them up, or if Lucy drags her out. And the balcony in her room is a definite no-go. The roof, at least, is not going to fall out from underneath her, causing her to drop to her death.
Probably.
“I suppose…” Margaret relents. She takes a step back with a sigh. “In that case, why don’t I keep you company for a little while?”
Louisa’s mind helpfully supplies her the responses of, No, thank you, and You don’t have to, really! but she can’t pick which sounds more polite, so she ends up saying nothing at all. She just watches in silence as Margaret settles into one of the chairs by the garden. She’s not even sure why the roof is so embellished—she’s never seen anyone else up here, apart from when Lucy has come specifically to retrieve her, and that one time she caught Mark smoking…something. It must just be another way for Fitzgerald to flaunt his wealth.
Although, these chairs have certainly seen better days, moth-bitten and sun-faded as they are.
After a moment, Louisa resigns herself to her fate, sitting in the chair beside Margaret’s. It’s not that she dislikes spending time with Margaret or anything—it’s sort of the opposite, really. She always enjoys Margaret’s company immensely, and would even wish to be with her more often. But…
Well, Margaret joined the Guild because of troubles with her family’s reputation. She’s here to earn money to send back to them, so they can climb back into a place of honor amongst their peers. Even if Margaret were to want Louisa in the same way Louisa wants her, she doubts such a thing would ever be feasible in Margaret’s mind. She simply has too much to lose.
So Louisa will keep quiet, and keep her feelings to herself. She has fully accepted this to be her fate.
It’s just easiest to do that when Margaret is not in the same space as her.
“This is much nicer than wasting away in these horrid buildings,” Margaret comments.
Louisa looks up, wondering what brought that thought out all of a sudden. She follows the path of Margaret’s eyes to the sight of the sky before them, painted with the vivid oranges and pinks of sunset. It’s quite pretty, but Louisa has seen sunsets stretch on for weeks through the window of her bedroom. Things like this are far more beautiful when they are fleeting, and Louisa can freeze a picturesque moment like this just about whenever she pleases.
“I miss the sunsets back home,” Margaret admits, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “Where the fields stretch for miles and miles, and the only thing you can see is the ground and the open sky.”
Louisa swallows thickly. Much like Margaret seems unable to look away from the sky, Louisa can’t find it in herself to look away from her. “That sounds lovely.”
“It is.” She turns to face Louisa, for just a moment, with a smile on her face. “I would love to show it to you someday.”
Warmth floods through Louisa’s veins, and her heartbeat picks up speed in her chest. She can only pray that Margaret does not hear it. She has no idea what she’s offering—surely she wouldn’t have said what she did if she knew how Louisa felt.
Still, Louisa hears herself reply, “I’d really like that.”
“Then it shall be done,” Margaret decides. With a satisfied nod, she turns back to the sky.
And Louisa simply continues watching her.
Louisa is not particularly fond of looking through the windows of the Moby Dick.
When it comes to being on a high level of a skyscraper, windows are fine, because a building stays in one place and has a sturdy foundation on the ground. Something like an airplane, however, is entirely different. It could drop out of the sky at any moment, and there is no other outcome to that apart from free-falling to one’s death. If something were to happen to Melville…or if any of Fitzgerald’s upgrades to his ability were to malfunction…
Louisa tries not to think about it.
She keeps the curtains drawn and blinds shut in her bedroom, relying entirely on lamps and overhead lights rather than the sun. It works well enough, for as long as she can forget that, physically, she is in the sky. Which is much, much, more difficult when she isn’t in her room, because Poe is the only other person who keeps his windows blocked.
But Margaret wanted to have dinner with her, and they’ll be arriving in Yokohama tomorrow, so tonight is sort of their last chance to relax before things get truly dangerous. And while Louisa can make this one night stretch on for ages, Margaret does not have the same luxury.
Anyway. She’s sure the glass wall in the dining room is really nice for everyone else, but there’s a reason Louisa has been taking her meals in her room for the entirety of this trip.
Margaret lets out a sigh, pushing her glass back after finishing the last of her iced tea. “I do hope they don’t give us too much trouble in Japan. I would love a chance to go sightseeing while we’re here!”
“Yeah,” Louisa agrees vaguely.
She has a funny feeling that what Fitzgerald wants to accomplish won’t be as easy as he anticipates. He believes his wealth can buy anything he desires, but Louisa knows there are some things that are worth more than all the money in the world. She’s done her research, and she does not believe the Armed Detective Agency will relent for a bribe alone. She has backup plans, of course—she has done nothing but strategize for so long now that she’s lost track—but the more their enemy resists, the more dangerous those plans become.
Margaret turns her gaze towards the glass wall, which provides a clear view of sky and sea. Everything is tinted orange as the hour grows later, and maybe Louisa should find it pretty, but all she can really feel right now is a deep-seated sense of dread.
It isn’t even from knowing how high up they are this time.
She opens her mouth, wanting to say something—anything—as if this may be her last chance to speak with Margaret. But the words get caught in her throat. She can’t even draw out the name of her friend to call her attention.
So she presses her lips back together in silence, watching the sun set and trying to convince her mind to revert to the familiarity of fear rather than dwelling on the ache in her chest.
Alone in Yokohama, in the aftermath of the Guild’s demise, Louisa watches the sun set from the window of her hotel room. She allows time to pass in its typical manner as the bright colors quickly turn dark. Oranges and pinks into purple, and then the navy of nighttime. It’s over so quickly.
If beauty is most prominent when it is fleeting, then she supposes that explains why Margaret remains the most beautiful sight she has ever beheld.
After Louisa helps Fitzgerald start a renewed Guild, Margaret is put up in a very nice hospital with the best treatment money can buy. The damage has already been done, though—days and weeks pass, and she shows no signs of improvement. Louisa visits regularly, though she knows her presence likely isn’t going to change anything. She can talk and read aloud to Margaret, in the hopes that she will recognize Louisa’s voice and fight her way back into consciousness just to see her face again, but—
All of that is only wishful thinking. Louisa knows better than to believe she has such a hold over Margaret’s heart; doing so will only lead to disappointment.
(And even if she did, it’s all worthless now, when Margaret is in a coma and unlikely to ever wake. If she takes the time to consider what could have been, had she been brave enough to speak up before—
No. It’s best to not think about it—to mourn only what was really there rather than any fantastical daydreams Louisa may have had.)
So Louisa sits at Margaret’s bedside, trying her hardest to cling to a dying hope. She watches Margaret, as her chest rises and falls, reminding herself that she is still breathing, even if only with the help of machines. The room grows darker as the sun sinks towards the horizon, but Louisa hardly notices the time has passed at all.
Though her face may be gaunt and her body frail, Margaret is still far more beautiful than the swatches of color in the sky.
Everything feels a bit hollow in the aftermath of the airport battle.
Louisa wasn’t on the ground, of course, because that has never been her role. But she was anxiously waiting for news of how things turned out, and she was there when Poe carried Margaret into the building, insisting that the Agency’s doctor treated her again and she doesn’t really seem to be injured so neither of them are entirely sure what the problem is, but Yosano-sensei was needed elsewhere so she asked him to see Margaret safely back to Fitzgerald and—
Louisa sort of tunes out the rest of it as she rushes over, wanting to reach out but afraid that will only make things worse.
“I’m alright,” Margaret assures her, as Poe helps her onto her feet. She’s awake, and she’s standing, though she’s still heavily relying on Poe for support. “I’m sure this is only because I have not used my ability or been so physically active in so long.” Carefully, she pushes herself away from Poe and takes a hesitant step towards Louisa. “You go run back to your detectives,” she tells him, with a vague wave of her hand. “I am certain Louisa and I can manage on our own.”
“Um,” Poe says, eyes darting between the two of them. “Ah– Alright.” He bows. “I will let Yosano-sensei know. She might ask to check up on you again later, when she has a moment to spare.”
He doesn’t wait around after that. It’s unfortunate, but Louisa isn’t surprised by the quick departure. After all, he isn’t exactly with the Guild anymore, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. He only brought Margaret here because someone from the Agency asked him to.
Margaret manages only a few more steps before she stumbles, and Louisa has to jump forward to catch her. She wraps an arm around Margaret, helping her over to one of the couches in the lobby, a tense silence settling over them as they sit down.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Louisa asks after a moment, her voice coming out quiet and scared. Initially, she hadn’t even wanted to send Margaret out into the battle. But the chance for success in any plan was greatly improved by having her on the ground instead of hidden safely away with Louisa, and Margaret insisted she was ready for combat again. Now, though, Louisa wishes she’d argued a bit more.
Margaret places a hand over Louisa’s. “I’m merely fatigued,” she promises. Doctor Yosano’s ability healed all physical ailments—you saw the scans yourself.”
That is true. Still, it’s hard to believe such a miraculous healing was possible after so long, even if it was due to an ability.
“I know, I just…” Louisa looks down, fiddling with the hem of her shawl. “We’ve already lost so much of the Guild. I don’t…” She sniffs. “I don’t think I could handle losing you again too.”
“You won’t,” Margaret promises, even though that isn’t an oath anyone can make in complete honesty. She wraps Louisa up in a hug, and Louisa tries very very hard not to cry into her nice, new, blazer, but she’s not sure she fully succeeds in blinking back every single tear. There’s just so much that will never be the same—so many things they can never get back. John has pitted himself against them, and neither Lucy nor Poe will ever return to the Guild, and Nathaniel is gone for good, and she can’t imagine Lovecraft sticking around now that the battle is over, and if Margaret really tires so easily she may not remain with the Guild either, and Louisa isn’t even sure what will happen to the detectives or the mafia because there was only so much she could account for in her strategizing and—
“I care not for what our former colleagues have decided to do with themselves,” Margaret continues. “I have no intention of leaving you.”
(You. Not Fitzgerald, not the Guild, but Louisa.)
“Okay,” she whispers, voice hoarse.
They stay there together, leaning against one another, as the sun sets on the near-end of the world.
Louisa would like to say Margaret knocking on her door is what woke her, but truthfully, she’s only managed brief interludes of restless sleep all night. It’s been two weeks since Yosano came to re-examine Margaret and determined that her body simply needs time to adjust to physical exertion again after so much time spent out of commission. She suggested a mobility aid of some sort—something like a rollator would be best, she said, because it would allow for her to slowly re-adjust to the motions of walking around.
It’s been fine so far, mostly, but Louisa can tell Margaret doesn’t like it. She comes from a family of high esteem where something like that would be so highly frowned upon that the walker likely wouldn’t be used at all, no matter how helpful it may be. So it feels a bit like Louisa is waiting for something to snap, for the other shoe to drop, for Margaret to decide she can’t continue on like this and just—
Louisa opens the door. Margaret is waiting on the other side.
“May we talk?”
Louisa nods, silent, numb. She opens her door wider, allowing Margaret to come in. They sit side-by-side on Louisa’s bed, facing the large window with a breathtaking view of Yokohama which Louisa typically completely ignores. The sky has only just begun to brighten into a lighter shade of blue.
“I received a letter from my mother yesterday,” Margaret begins. “My parents have decided to sell our both house and the acres of land which it sits on. I would like to return home before that happens. Though I’m certain I won’t be abl to assist much with the moving process in this state, I do wish to see the place where I grew up one last time.”
It hits Louisa like a freight train, as if she didn’t already know this was a possibility. For as long as Margaret was unconscious, she wasn’t working, and her family couldn’t receive a salary she wasn’t earning. Still, Margaret said she wouldn’t leave.
She promised, didn’t she?
“I plan to leave this week.”
“O-oh.” Louisa quickly wipes a tear with her sleeve, hoping Margaret isn’t watching her. For once, Louisa’s eyes are glued to the scene before them, studying the sky as the sun rises higher, causing dark blue to melt into purple and pink.
Margaret takes a breath. Louisa tries not to flinch.
“I wanted to ask if you would be willing to accompany me?”
Louisa blinks. She turns to face Margaret, eyes widening. “Me?” she asks, because surely she must have heard something wrong. She has always known that eventually, Margaret would retire from her place in the Guild to return to her family, and then she would marry a nice, respectable, wealthy man in order to get her family back into society’s good graces. There was never any permanent place for Louisa in her life.
“Yes,” Margaret confirms. “I cannot think of anyone I would rather be by my side through this. But if you would prefer to stay here, with Mr. Fitzgerald, I do understand.”
“I—” Louisa falters.
She knows she should stay here. She has a responsibility, as the Guild’s strategist. She promised her eternal servitude to Fitzgerald in exchange for her sisters having their higher education and healthcare paid for.
But—
When it comes to what she would prefer—
Margaret takes one of Louisa’s hands in hers, clutching it tightly and smiling at her in earnest. “I still believe the loveliest sunsets I have ever seen are the ones from my back porch, on a humid summer night when the sky is clear and the bugs are singing. And there is nothing in the world I would wish for more than being able to share such an experience with you.”
Louisa swallows thickly, eyes watering. “Will you…” She shakes her head, pulling her hands back and averting her gaze. “I would love to accept, but I… I don’t think you know what you’re offering.” She twists her fingers together, fighting through the fear seizing her chest. If Margaret is going to leave regardless, she might as well confess now, right? She’s already teetering on the edge of the worst case scenario; everything that exists between her and Margaret is already at risk. “If there’s no place for me in your future beyond this trip, I don’t think I can handle feeling like I’m the one you love for only a brief moment.”
She expects disgust—a recoiling, a revokement of the offer.
Instead, Margaret places one hand on her leg. And when Louisa turns, hesitantly, to meet her gaze, Margaret cups her cheek before leaning in to kiss her forehead.
“I would very much like for you to be in the rest of my life,” Margaret tells her. “I do not care what my family or our neighbors may say; I have already let them all down. I love you dearly, Louisa. I have for quite some time now, and I do not intend to waste my life pining in silence. So, if you will have me, I would quite like to be yours.”
“Yes,” Louisa breathes out. “Yes, please—” she surges forward, throwing her arms around Margaret in a hug. “I’ll go with you,” she agrees, throwing all of her doubts to the wind. She will figure out the logistics later, but there is no way she could deny herself when it would also mean denying Margaret. “Let’s watch the sunset together in your hometown.”
And through the window, a new dawn rises over both of them.