Everything That Follows
Season 4 spoilers (up to episode 11, because I'm pretty much in denial about episodes 12 & 13). So this somewhat follows the gang's plan, but then takes a different direction from how the season actually ends. Consider this a fix-it for the S4 finale, and the possibilities of all that might happen from that point onward. ENJOY!
**I own nothing except the idea for how things play out – characters, etc., are all property of their rightful creators (Lev Grossman, SyFy, etc.)**
Chapter 1
Quentin sat on the couch in the high-rise apartment that had, apparently, become the group's home base. He held a cup of coffee and stared out the window, trying to wrap his mind around recent events.
Everything had come to a head pretty quickly. After Penny, Quentin, and Alice locked the twins in a dark corner of the Mirror Realm, Everett showed up. They let him know he was too late and luckily he was so caught up in his anguish over the failure that the trio managed to escape the room, locking the door behind them and leaving Everett behind as they returned to the real world.
However, the gang was far from out-of-the-woods. Julia had recovered from the damage done by Sorrow II, but she had now reverted to being "just a human" and, so far, hadn't even managed to create a tiny spark of magic. Eliot's road to recovery appeared to be a bit more challenging, having to rely initially on old-fashioned medicine - which isn't much compared to a magical wound. However, the last report was that the prognosis was good. And, courtesy of Zelda, the Library had apparently gained a conscience and was no longer holding magic captive.
After the mental recap, Quentin sighed and took a sip of his coffee. He couldn't help but feel quite proud of himself, and of all of his friends. He chose to focus on that sensation, pushing away his usual anxiety about what "big bad" they might have to face next. And he especially kept thoughts of Eliot far away – that glass case of emotion was way too fragile right now and Q didn't want it to shatter under the weight of his thoughts.
Quentin heard footsteps descending the stairs and turned just in time to see Margo appear. She was perfectly put-together, as usual, but stood still, straightening the sleeves of her blazer. Feeling Quentin's gaze, she turned to him and smiled, approaching him with unmistakable pep in her step.
"Morning, Q," she chirped, stopping behind him on the couch and leaning forward to place a kiss atop his head.
"Hey," Quentin replied, fighting the anxious feeling that was settling in about still being in pajamas, making him feel profoundly under-dressed next to his friend.
"Guess what I'm doing today?" Margo asked in a sing-song voice. She didn't wait for a response, blurting out the answer, "I'm bringing Eliot home!"
Despite trying to avoid thinking about El, the news that he was being released from the hospital managed to perk Quentin up far more effectively than the coffee he was drinking. "Home? As in, like, here?"
"Well, duh," Margo snarked. "Ooh, actually, I have to get going – they said he'd be ready around 9 and I wanna get there early, in case there are any special instructions for taking care of him."
Quentin stood up and stretched. "Should I come with you?"
"Oh, sweetie," Margo cooed. "Thanks, but you should probably stay here and make sure the place is Eliot-worthy. Maybe get some food or something. And, you know, put on some real clothes." She looked Q up and down, clearly disapproving of his lazy-day attire.
"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you both when you get back, then?"
"Definitely!" Margo grabbed her purse, marched to the door, blew a kiss and hollered a quick, "Bye!" as the door closed behind her.
"You good, dude?" Kady called from the kitchen, opening a cupboard to pull out a box of tea.
Quentin jumped up, grabbing his empty coffee mug as he did, and joined Kady. "Yeah, actually, I think I am."
Kady nodded acknowledgement, almost rhythmically. She placed a teapot on the stove to boil and set out a mug for herself. As Quentin sat down at the kitchen island, Kady held out a tea bag in offering.
"No, thanks," Q told her. He went to take a sip of coffee before remembering it was empty.
"Need a refill of that?" the girl asked, reaching for a Keurig pod.
Quentin quickly shook his head and said, "Nah, I better not. What are you up to today?"
Kady shrugged. "Some hedges said they wanted to meet with me about. . . something. So I guess I'll go do that. What are your plans?"
"I'll probably clean up a bit – myself, and the place," Q gestured to his pajamas and then glanced at the space around them, which was messier than it could have been. "Then, wait for Julia and Eliot to. . . " he paused, making sure the words he was about to say felt right before saying them out loud, ". . .come home."
"Uh-huh," Kady droned, her eyes barely peeking at Q over her mug of tea.
"What?" Quentin queried, confused by the girl's tone.
"Nothin'," Kady replied with a smirk. Her eyes narrowed into a cat-like stare, gazing down at Quentin as she stood with her cup of tea and he sat on the bar-stool at the kitchen island.
"Oh, c'mon!" Quentin chuckled, somewhat nervously. "What is it?"
Kady silently chewed on the inside of her lip with a thoughtful look. She was clearly weighing the options, trying to decide whether to speak her mind or not. Quentin stared her down, literally sitting on his hands to keep from fidgeting with anxiety. Finally, with a sigh, the hedge witch gave in.
"I'm thinking about starting a betting pool," she began, letting a cheeky grin tug at the corners of her mouth.
Quentin felt like he might regret it, but he went ahead and asked, "For what?"
The grin spread across her face into a full-fledged, devious smile. "For how long it'll take for you to make your move now that you don't have a Monster cock-blocking you," Kady told him, doing a playful little shimmy with her shoulders. Then, she threw in a coy wink.
"Whaaaaaaat?" Quentin asked, his voice rising a few octaves. He rapidly scooted his chair back, letting it scrape loudly against the floor. He rushed his mug over to the sink and busied himself with rinsing it out. Kady lightly squeezed his shoulder, walking away with a self-indulgent snort. Q waited a moment, to make sure she was gone, before turning the faucet off and leaning against the counter. He let out an uncomfortable scoff, running his hand through his hair and feeling even more anxious about his friends returning.
~!MAGIC!~!MAGIC!~!MAGIC!~
After a couple hours, Quentin received a text from Margo. It read:
In the lobby. ETA less than 1 minute. Shit better be ready, Nerd.
Quentin knew the words were not intended to be taken lightly – Margo was dead-serious. For once, though, he actually wasn't worried.
The apartment was spotless, thanks to elbow grease and some Minor Mendings. Quentin had ordered a few pizzas and a variety of pizza-related foods like cheesy bread and chicken wings. There were plenty of drink options, ranging from bottled waters to liters of pop and, of course, some alcoholic beverages. Q had even showered and put on a nice pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. He felt pretty confident that everything was, indeed, ready.
Kady had returned from her "top-secret" meeting with the hedges about a half hour earlier, promising to share the story with everyone later, so she'd only have to tell it once. Alice showed up a shortly after, giving Quentin a quick, semi-awkward peck on the cheek. The girls had arranged the food, buffet-style, while Quentin was getting himself ready. Josh arrived just in time to launch into melt-down mode about the inadequacy of food options, which was made worse by Kady and Alice's poor "presentation" choices. He quickly made some adjustments, which he swore made all the difference in the world.
By the time Margo's text came in, the four of them were poised at the foyer of the apartment, waiting to greet their friends.
Suddenly, Quentin turned to the trio beside him and said, "Is it a good idea to shout 'SURPRISE' at them? I mean, is that gonna freak them out or be too much for them or. . ." Q let his voice trail off.
Kady snorted, attempting to stifle a laugh. Josh looked like he was genuinely considering the question. But Alice spoke up, giving Quentin a sympathetic look: "They didn't have heart attacks, Q. I think they can handle a surprise."
Quentin nodded thoughtfully. He considered challenging her further, but decided against it. He turned back to face the door, just in time to see the handle turn.
The door swung open, and the Welcome Wagon erupted into a chorus of "SURPRISE" and "WELCOME HOME." Alice and Josh both did awkward little jumps and jazz-hands. Kady one-upped them by vocalizing, showing off just a snippet of her impressive four-octave range. Quentin performed some quick handwork, casting sparks into the air and materializing confetti that covered the apartment's entryway – a party trick he had almost forgotten he knew.
Margo was just outside the doorway, nodding in Q's general direction, beaming pride. Penny was hanging back in the hallway, trying to look like he wasn't amused. Directly in the center of the doorway stood the guests of honor.
Julia giggled and clapped her hands together in front of her mouth, smiling with genuine appreciation. She was wearing a cream-colored turtle-neck sweater and black pants, similar to what she had been wearing when they had last seen her as the Sister-Monster, except this iteration of the outfit had significantly less blood. "Thanks, guys!" the dark-haired girl giggled, stepping into the apartment and making sure to hug each member of the welcoming group. When she got to Quentin, she held him a bit longer and tighter than others.
"It's good to have you back," Quentin told his friend when she finally released him from the embrace.
"It's good to be back," Julia told him, maintaining the warm smile. But a sadness in her eyes betrayed her words. She side-stepped to let the group give a proper welcome to her companion. It was almost like they were both soldiers, returning from war. Julia actually appeared to be dealing with her return to normalcy a bit better, though.
Eliot was still standing in the doorway, looking a little disheveled compared to his typical self, but a considered improvement to the Monster's lack of concern for appearance. Someone had apparently allowed the man to shower, as he was no longer splattered with dirt and blood. His hair had shed a few layers of grunge, but it still hung at an unruly length – although it was far more tame, obviously having finally received some care and effort. Deviating from his usual classy, almost-overdressed, stylish attire, Eliot was wearing a plain pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a gray cardigan.
Josh offered a cheery "Welcome back!" to Eliot, as he approached him with a slow, cautious manner – like how one might approach a wounded animal in the wild. Kady followed suit, but with a bit less hesitation. She patted Eliot on the shoulder and offered a warm, gentle smile.
"It's nice to see you – ya know, as you," she said. It was a statement to be expected from the girl, and Quentin was secretly grateful to her for not treating Eliot like he was broken.
Alice took a step toward the doorway, then stopped and stood rocking on her heels. "Um, it's. . ." the blonde paused, struggling to find the words she wanted. Silently, she stood in place making jerky movements, almost like a nervous series of twitches. She started with her arms hanging loosely at her sides, then put them forward as if she were going to shake hands or even hug Eliot. Then she stopped herself and wiggled her fingers in the air. Finally, she settled on slipping her arms behind her back and clasping them together. "I'm glad you're okay," Alice finally stated plainly before hurrying away, diving into the kitchen and disappearing.
"So, is this party a party or what?" Margo asked, pushing her way into the apartment. She peeked around the corner and squealed with delight at the sight of the food and refreshments. After receiving Margo's approval, the rest of the gang quickly maneuvered into the kitchen and began loading up plates, pouring drinks, and chatting amongst themselves.
Only Quentin and Eliot remained in the entryway, a few feet away from each other. Q inspected Eliot again, appreciating the fact that he was looking at Eliot and not a Monster wearing Eliot like a Halloween costume. El's longer hair was actually sort of appealing, making it so he had waves rather than proper curls. Even though Eliot was standing at sort of an awkward angle, obviously favoring the wound in his abdomen, the very air about him was a drastic and refreshing difference from the Monster.
Mostly, though, Quentin couldn't stop inspecting Eliot's look, trying to remember if he'd ever actually seen his friend in such casual clothing. It was odd, but not at all unpleasant. He liked the way the tshirt hung on the man's tall, thin frame. And the jeans hugged Eliot in all the right places. Quentin forced aside the desire to have Eliot turn around so he could see the way his ass filled out the jeans.
Suddenly, Q realized he'd been staring at Eliot – probably for an uncomfortable length of time. He averted his gaze, glancing toward the crowd in the kitchen, which was steadily growing noisier. After what he thought was a respectable beat, he looked back to his best friend.
Eliot's eyes remained downcast, burning a hole in a random spot on the floor. It dawned on Quentin that El had not made eye contact with anyone or even said anything, yet. Q slowly took a step toward the man, trying to remain nonchalant.
"Hi," Quentin offered. His voice came out quieter than he had anticipated, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "I, uh, I missed you. Like, a lot." The words came tumbling out before Quentin fully realized what he had said. And he mentally kicked himself for sounding like an idiot.
After a beat, Eliot raised his face, showing a small smile. The gentle and soulfulness Q had come to admire and expect restored to those hazel eyes. It was all Quentin could do to keep the dam from breaking and letting loose the pounds of emotions he'd been carrying around for months. Without another thought, Quentin rushed forward to close the distance between them, pulling Eliot into an embrace.
Eliot immediately tensed up, wincing. Quentin pulled away rapidly and launched into a torrent of apologies. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – sorry, El, I shouldn't have – and I wasn't thinking – I'm just so glad to see you and – well, I'm sorry – and just – ugh, shit, man –I'm sorry. . ." he finally let his voice trail off and stood there, panting after his jumble of almost-sentences.
With a raised eyebrow, Eliot said, "Are you done, Spazz?"
Quentin took a few more deep breaths and chuckled. "Y-yeah, I think so." He let out a breathy laugh and gestured toward Eliot's stomach. "Are you okay?"
El still had a hand firmly pressed against the general location of the wound and was hunched over rather than standing tall like he normally would, so he and Quentin were actually almost at the same height for a change. "Do you want the truth, or the bullshit answer I'm supposed to say to make you feel better?"
"The truth," Quentin replied instantly.
"I feel like I was hit by a train."
Q laughed softly. "Julia said it felt like a truck." Then he added, "Like, eight times."
Eliot bit his lip and squinted slightly, looking pensive. Finally he nodded. "Sounds about right. Getting hit by a truck eight times is probably equivalent to a train."
"Well, in that case, you probably wanna sit down," Q suggested. Eliot nodded fervently, letting out a heavy sigh. Wordlessly, Quentin positioned himself at Eliot's side, putting an arm around his shoulders and allowing his friend to put his weight on him. Eliot wrapped his arm around Quentin at the waist, and they carefully made their way from the door to the sofa in the sitting area.
"Yo, you guys need help?" Penny called from the kitchen.
"We're good," Quentin answered. Although it probably would've been easier on Eliot to have someone on the other side to balance out the weight, Q selfishly decided he was doing fine. He didn't want to share this moment.
Once they got to the couch, Quentin helped lower Eliot to sit on the cushion. El leaned back against the sofa, his arm still partially wrapped around Quentin's waist. He ended up knocking Q off balance, so he dropped one knee to the couch and stood there in an awkward sort of crouched position. Quentin had moved his arm from Eliot's shoulders, but his hand was planted on the back of the couch, next to the man's head.
"Sorry," Eliot whispered. Quentin could barely hear it over the commotion of their friends in the kitchen, but he read the word on Eliot's lips.
Eliot's lips.
Heat rushed to Q's face and he knew his cheeks must be flushed. He quickly looked away from El's mouth, using his free hand to tuck a strand of long hair behind Eliot's ear.
Eliot scoffed. "This hair is something else. It actually took hours to brush, if you can believe it. I can't believe none of you taught that Monster anything about appearance." He wrinkled his nose. "Or hygiene. I begged the hospital to let me shower, because I couldn't even stand the smell of myself!"
Quentin smiled down at him, slightly out of amusement but mostly out of sheer appreciation for having Eliot back. Really, truly back. He wanted Eliot to keep talking, to say anything and everything so he could hear him. Eliot's voice, his words, the timber and cadence when he spoke – all things that the Monster could never imitate, because they were perfectly and completely unique to the one and only Eliot Waugh.
"Um, Q?" Eliot said, causing Quentin to blink a few rapid times as he retreated from his thoughts. "You're staring at me, Q. . ."
Blushing, Quentin averted his gaze, shooting his eyes up toward the ceiling. Panicking slightly, he backed up, knocking into the tea table in front of the couch and causing him to wobble slightly. Eliot reached forward and steadied him, firmly placing his hands on both of Quentin's hips.
"I've got you," El stated.
Q felt a lump in his throat. The words were so simple and seemed innocent enough, so anyone who was looking would just think that Eliot had prevented Quentin from clumsily cracking his head open on the glass table behind him. But Quentin couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to Eliot's words. The way he said them didn't sound innocent or simple. The words oozed tension, traversing the miles of subtext and unspoken feelings between them.
Eliot loosed his grip but kept his hands on Q's hips, thumbs in front and his other fingers spread across the base of Quentin's back and the rise of his ass. He delicately, almost absentmindedly, rubbed his thumbs across the waistband of Q's slacks. One thumb snuck underneath the hem of Quentin's shirt, rubbing against the warm skin on his hip.
Quentin opened his mouth to speak, but was having trouble finding the words. Finally, he closed his mouth, swallowing so hard that he gulped audibly.
"EL-I-OOOOOOTTTTT!" Margo's voice rang out, drawling out the syllables.
El's hands dropped to his lap and Quentin took a step backward, careful to avoid the tea table. They both cleared their throats and focused their attention anywhere but each other.
Eliot rotated slightly on the couch, following Margo's shrill call. "Yes, Bambi?" he replied sweetly.
"Do. You. Want. Pizza?" she asked, punctuating each word.
Quentin wondered how long she'd been trying to get his attention. That made him wonder if she'd been watching their small, semi-intimate interaction. And that made him wonder who else had been watching. Quentin discretely placed two fingers against his wrist to check his pulse, certain that he was having palpations. His heart was racing, but he had the feeling that had less to do with Margo and more to do with the fact that he could still feel Eliot's hands on him.
Once again, Q had spaced out, apparently. When he shook himself from his thoughts, Margo was standing behind the couch, running a hand through Eliot's long hair as he bit into a piece of cheesy bread.
"We need to do something about. . . THIS," Margo mumbled, wrapping a lock of hair around her finger. "Then again," she said slyly, grabbing a fistful of Eliot's hair, "maybe it could be a little fun." She then tugged on his hair, pulling his head back and leaning in so her face was directly in front of his.
Eliot gave Margo a coy smile, letting out a playful growl and nipping at her nose. She giggled, released his hair, and climbed over the back of the couch to sit next to him, stealing his breadstick as she did.
Quentin watched the exchange, feeling a twinge of jealousy. He felt incapable of pulling himself away from the scene. Suddenly, he felt an elbow nudge him in the ribs. He turned slightly to see Kady standing beside him, with a knowing smirk.
Q rolled his eyes and made his way to the armchair near the sofa, purposely distancing himself from Eliot. One by one, the rest of the group relocated from the kitchen to the living room. Julia handed Quentin a paper plate piled high with pizza and cheesy bread before sitting cross-legged on the floor at his feet. Penny wasted no time in settling in right beside Julia, matching her Indian-style position and letting their knees touch just slightly.
Suddenly, Quentin remembered something. "Kady!" He exclaimed, startling the girl who was still standing in the middle of the room. "You had an announcement of some kind?"
The rest of the gang mirrored Quentin's interest, excitedly encouraging her to tell them the news about her top-secret meeting with the hedges earlier.
"Oh, yeah. So, get this," Kady animatedly waved her hands in the air, looking like she was trying to stop herself from laughing. "Apparently, 'representatives' from hedge witch communities around the world got together and decided that they need someone to act as, like, a 'leader' to help them work together and attempt to 'bring peace and unity to hedges everywhere,'" she explained, complete with air quotes and a dramatic tone.
"And they've asked you to do it?" Julia guessed.
"Bingo was his name-o," Kady replied with a shrug. She then laughed out loud. "Can you believe it? They want me to be, like, boss-bitch of all hedges."
"Mm, question," Eliot said, raising his hand. "Is 'boss-bitch' an official title?"
Kady placed her hands on her hips and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you have a problem with that?"
El held his hands up in mock surrender. "Not at all. Just wanted to know what we should have engraved on the plaque for your desk."
Sticking her tongue out for added emphasis, she flipped her middle finger in Eliot's general direction. Despite the theatricality, Quentin could tell that Kady was secretly proud of the hedge's request.
"Well, if they wanted a boss-bitch," Quentin began, somewhat reservedly, "they couldn't have made a better choice."
Everyone laughed, but mumbled agreement. Kady rolled her eyes and made her way to the armchair on the other side of the room. But once she was seated, she caught Quentin's eye, offering a warm smile. She then discretely mouthed the words "thank you." Q nodded in acknowledgement before looking away, allowing her to retain her tough girl image.
The rest of the evening passed by quickly and was relatively uneventful – which was a welcome change for the gang. They ate way too much, and drank, and they talked and joked. For a few hours, they managed to feel and act like they were actually. . . normal. Even if they were just pretending and trying to convince themselves as much as each other.
Eventually, they turned on the television and found a movie to watch. Quentin didn't remember discussing it or picking a movie, or even what movie they ended up selecting. At some point, someone—probably Josh—had found and distributed blankets and pillows. Everyone settled into comfortable-ish positions, wrapped up in blankets and watching the TV with tired eyes.
Alice had stretched out on the loveseat near the window and fell asleep first, looking like she had the best spot out of anyone. Julia and Penny fell asleep next, spread out on the floor side-by-side. Kady passed out in her armchair across from Quentin, legs pulled up and arms wrapped around her knees. Josh was sitting straight up on the couch, with his head propped up on the back of the couch at an angle that would certainly leave his neck aching in the morning. But considering the fact that Margo was curled up on the extra-large couch with her head in his lap, it was likely that he would consider the crick in his neck to be well worth it.
Finally, Eliot and Quentin were the only ones left awake. The credits rolled at the end of the movie that had been playing. Q was still in the armchair, not even really facing the TV. He'd spent the evening watching everyone else – relishing the fact that they were all in such good spirits, albeit exhausted.
Eliot had remained seated on the couch. Once everyone else was asleep and the apartment was dark and silent, he stretched his arms in the air and yawned.
"Ow," he said softly, dropping an arm back down to his stomach.
"You okay?" Quentin whispered.
"Fuck, Q," Eliot hissed back. "I thought you were asleep hours ago."
Quentin could just barely make out Eliot's silhouette, illuminated by the faint glow of the TV. Carefully, favoring his side, Eliot eased himself to lay down on the couch, stretching out in full. Then through the dark he said, "I think you have the last blanket."
"Do you want it?" Without waiting for a response, Quentin unwrapped himself from the blanket and stood up.
"We could share it." Eliot's reply was just barely whispered, slightly hesitant and cautious – vulnerable. It was a version of Eliot that Quentin hadn't experienced in a long time, and that he was certain very few others had ever seen at all in their lifetimes.
"Yeah. We could do that," Quentin agreed. He felt like he was frozen in place, standing with the blanket hanging in his arms.
"Or you could, you know, stand there awkwardly." A playful tone entered Eliot's voice and Quentin was sure it was probably accompanied by a wink – or would have been if they weren't in pitch darkness.
"Awkwardness is kind of my spirit animal," Q retorted.
And Eliot laughed.
Quentin had always been terrible at banter or rapport. He always thought himself to be clever, but he was rarely able to come across as witty because he usually lacked either the confidence or the quick thinking necessary to participate in a spirited back-and-forth. But with Eliot, it was different. He came up with responses quickly, and managed to actually say them out loud. Even if they ended up sounding stupid or were a joke at his own expense, which was typically the case, the exchange usually went well because Eliot never made him feel stupid. And Eliot appreciated self-deprecating humor in a way that others didn't, managing to poke fun at himself, too. Even when he also took shots at Quentin, it was never mean-spirited and led to Q admitting his own flaws – flaws which he normally felt self-conscious about. But instead of sweeping them under the rug, he embraced them and often took them a step farther with more jokes and puns when he was with Eliot.
Everything was just easier with Eliot. That was an undeniable fact. Whether that was the reason for the magnetic draw Quentin felt towards the man, or if it resulted from the attraction, it was impossible to tell. Q eventually had stopped trying to figure it out, filing that question away with other important ponderings of the universe, like the chicken-or-the-egg argument.
From the couch, Eliot softly hummed the Jeopardy! theme music. Quentin chuckled and, in one swift motion, unfurled the blanket to drape it over Eliot on the couch. He then laid down on his back, letting his legs flop over the edge of the couch. His face was right next to Eliot's and he could feel his friend's warm breath on his neck. Q stayed on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, opposed to turning on his side where he would have been nose-to-nose with El.
"You're not getting much use of the blanket," Eliot whispered directly into Quentin's ear.
"That's fine. I'm warm enough," Q told him. And he meant it. He genuinely felt a warmth radiating through his entire body, almost tingly. With a heavy sigh, Quentin closed his eyes.
Laying there, he knew – knew – that he could no longer suppress his emotions. Now that Eliot had been saved, Quentin would have to face the reason why he had been so obsessed with that task, knowing deep down that it was about so much more than just friendship. He steeled himself to the decision that he would have to talk to Eliot – and, therefore, Alice – about his true feelings and whatever happened, happened. He decided that when morning came, he would take action. Q repeated that decision in his mind, like a mantra, until he finally drifted to sleep.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .