Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but this fanfiction.
When she looks out of the car window, the first thing Margaret sees are the lights of the hospital and police cars. They are seemingly everywhere, blending her, but nevertheless she continues to stare while the sound of sirens is tormenting her ears. Not at the lights, but the bodies.
She has counted three of them. Three dead bodies.
Later she would learn that not three, but five souls have been lost in a bombing that was meant to kill her.
Margaret knows it's stupid, and that someone else is to blame for this, but she can't help but to think she practically murdered those people.
As soon as this thought comes to her mind, she makes it vanish. She won't let herself waver - she won't turn. The lady is not for turning, she reminds herself (even though she is disturbed by the mere violence with which those terrorists protest against her politics - but she won't allow them to win, because she gets the job done, and that is all that counts).
Margaret holds her hand up, trying to grasp something so as not to drown from the oncoming flood of guilt (that shouldn't exist in the first place if she would have a say in the management of her emotions). At first, the only thing she grasps is air, and for a moment, she feels lost.
Then she feels skin. Fingers which curl around hers, a hand, a steady hand, which holds hers. It pulls her out of the numb state she was in seconds before, and Margaret breathes in deeply, thanking the Gods for what must be the thousandth time that Denis is always there to save her from the darkness.
A/N: Hehe. This is the first (and shortest) TLI fanfic I've actually ever posted, so comments and critic would be rad. Also note please that English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes I've made. Thanks for reading!