A/N: I just realised that there has been a distinct lack of Ellie at work and Diane updating the whole 'King situation'. Also did you guys see the foreshadowing/foiling with that dynamic? I honestly wanted Diane and King to be a kind of foil for Ellie and Mel cause... why not?

So the next few chapters are kinda dedicated to the side characters who are missing some vital writing time. They're like the joyful wholesome elements of this story - aside from Jericho, she's the snarky, bitchy aunt. Yes I said it. She's meant to be the pessimist.

Also defining Arthur's role in this story was SUPER tricky. I decided to make him an aristocrat (although very friendly and generous). Fuck royal dynamics - even though I'm British. The royal family shall sustain the real world royal family. Also yes I edited the plot once more for extra drama.

So enjoy lovelies,
D.L.D

Quote of the Chapter:

"You're such a force. You take up a lot of space. And sometimes I feel like there's not a lot of room for me"
- Ginny, Ginny & Georgia

Chapter Twenty-Seven: (I'm trying to) Escape (you)

Even if the world was on fire Elizabeth Liones would still have to drag her ass to work - on literal fire or not. Media coverage never did care about the journalists' well being, not with the fast-paced, greedy minds of today's audiences and so the companies reflected as much. Hungover, hooked up to an IV, dare one even say half-dead, Elizabeth would still drag herself to work. News never waited for anybody.

Maybe that was why she'd found the strength to hop on the train with Jericho - an hour earlier than usual - sipping on a lukewarm coffee as they bumped along the railway.

Two days had passed since she'd last spoken to Meliodas. Last time they had been silent for this long was when they'd fallen out over the same topic - about ten years ago. For half a year they hadn't spoken. In that six month period they'd both changed drastically: Elizabeth turned to the Bible, bending to her mother's whims and growing out her hair from its faded pink dye; Meliodas fell deeper into the darkness of London, disappearing from the local area before returning with a reputation pinned to his name.

In total, a year was used for them to talk again. A complete year. In that year they both turned to their own ways of coping, their own methods of dulling out the pain until they became desensitized to it.

For Elizabeth it had been her overbearing mother. Cutting all ties to her past rebellion, getting rid of the makeup and the pink hair dye, the ruffled skirts and more 'womanly' clothing she owned had been her way of coping. Hiding her femininity, shrouding herself in God and faith and her mother's fears of her daughter becoming a sinful, dirty whore were what she used to hide away.

In that year Elizabeth had learned how to keep what she really felt sealed up tight. No-one knew that she wasn't the chaste virgin her mother passed up to be. No-one knew that she had secretly been tagging along with Meliodas, starry-eyed in a lasting high from both his presence and the smuggled drugs. No-one could have known about the sex - the amazing sex - that was kept under wraps.

Oh god no. If Elizabeth's mother knew about all that, what she really got up at her 'Bible study group', she would kill over. Drop into her grave like a dead doorknob.

But even in that year of radio silence, even when they had gone through their biggest tiff yet, they had both still seen each other. Passing glances, brushing against each other in crowded hallways: they were always present. Last time Elizabeth still managed to hang around Ban and Elaine (although not as much as before). Now she couldn't even face them.

Even Diane, her solid work friend - her friend from university that came into HER life before Meliodas' - was kept at a distance this time round. Yesterday, when she'd arrived at work with Jericho, Elizabeth hadn't missed the confusion pressed into her face. 'You have a lot to tell me,' Was what it said. 'I won't press now but you can't keep it from me forever.'

Keeping the truth from everyone - for forever - was the last thing Elizabeth intended to do. In the past two days she had been sorting her thoughts out, shuffling them into folders and files all dedicated to telling everyone her version of the truth. When she was ready, after clumsily stitching up her wounds once more, she'd reveal it to them.

However, such plans were cut short this morning, Elizabeth called into Ludociel's office as soon as she stepped into the building. Beside her Jericho had shrugged, just as clueless as Nerobasta led them to the lifts, rode with them to the third floor and then promptly led Elizabeth to Ludociel's office door.

Heart thudding in her chest, she now stood with Nerobasta, waiting for the impending encounter with the office's local nitpick. No doubt he wanted to know why she appeared so distracted lately, mindlessly typing gibberish onto her upcoming articles in an attempt to seem like a perfectly functioning adult. After reading through such garbage, Ludociel was no doubt infuriated - no, absolutely seething.

Yet, when the door swung open and Elizabeth walked in alone, her boss appeared to be in good spirits, amazing spirits, as he nodded toward her.

"Good morning Elizabeth," Ludociel began, glancing up from his computer screen. For once he was treating her as an equal, was addressing her with the respect of mutual coworkers. An odd thing for the stoic and collected man; he only ever did this when he wanted something off her.

Aware of the possible catch, Elizabeth sat herself down in the empty chair on the other side of his desk. Like every time she found herself in this office, she focused on the clock positioned behind him - a gaudy thing that replicated the sun and worked like a sundial. Elizabeth had never understood her boss' taste in clocks; sundials were extra work when trying to read the time.

Extra work was something Ludociel always did though. Precise, to the point, he always liked to pile things on, micromanaging everything to make sure that it all went seamlessly. Why would his clocks be anything different? Ludociel was the sort of man who liked to know exactly what position the sun took in the sky.

"Good morning Ludociel," Elizabeth nodded toward him, trying her best to remain formal despite the annoyance and anxiety squirming in her gut. It was like she could never catch a break, could never just breathe. Every day provided a new obstacle to overcome, a brand new challenge to test her limits. "Is there a particular reason why you wanted to see me this morning?"

"Yes," The man nodded, setting all work aside and placing all of his attention on her. Another alarming action. Elizabeth couldn't help the sharp intake of air as he adjusted the set of his tie. "As you know there is a buzz about the upcoming event in Edinburgh. Every news outlet in the country is sending their top reporters and journalists to cover the event."

Oh yes the latest media buzz. A week couldn't go by without a new sensation, a new story and angle to explore within the public court. Last week it had been a new fad with pets, some kind of fashion show event hosted in France. This week it was a dress that Kate Middleton wore, M&S doing a spectacular imitation for just a mere fiver. Why would it be stretch for Edinburgh to have a shot in the limelight?

Wait, Elizabeth knew why: the Edinburgh fringe season was over. All the summer festivities, the comedians and actors and performers who crowded the streets with eager tourists had all packed up shop. Just like how tourist season dwindled down south after the summer, Scotland was no different.

Nevertheless, they had a trump card which London lacked: the beloved Arthur, global philanthropist and a popular member of the extended royal family - by at least ten people. Too bad he was just as ordinary as the rest of us - minus the oodles of cash and assets linked to his name.

"You mean Arthur's visit to the city?" Elizabeth blinked, well aware of the visit. Last night her father had informed her about it, invited her to spend the time with him and her estranged sisters. Rarely did Elizabeth ever meet her estranged family - her mother had never liked her father much. Plus, with them, she always felt like an outsider, an intruder to their inner circle.

To her, it was simple: avoid being around them. She got on fine without her father and they got on fine without her. It was a simple win-win. It was easy to ignore the sadness that stabbed her sisters' faces whenever they bumped into her; it was easy to ignore the twinge of guilt she felt whenever she turned down their invitations.

Sadly, it was better this way. This way her mother didn't get hurt and her father wouldn't be disappointed by her life choices. Forget the longing to know her father's family, forget the feeling of not knowing who she was truly was. Elizabeth would always settle for this, just being here.

"So you know of him?" Ludociel broke her thoughts, a thoughtful hum filling his features as he placed his hands on top of the desk. "The Duke of Camelot, I mean."

"In passing," Elizabeth offered quickly, not entirely in the mood to elaborate. "We went university together. My father is good friends with his family."

"Wonderful!" Ludociel smiled - for once - his face pressing with lines that Elizabeth didn't know he had. On a different day she would have marveled at the sight, amazed at how happy he looked; today she wasn't entirely amused, indifferent as she pursed her lips. "I knew I was right to think that you were perfect for the job. I had my doubts but clearly- "

"Sorry to interrupt... sir," Elizabeth interjected awkwardly, biting the corner of her lips. Now was the time to come up with her excuse, the grand Elizabeth diversion from the true reason why she couldn't cover this story. "But I don't know if I can cover the Edinburgh event. I might be busy as my mother regularly attends Sunday mass and- "

"I'm sure you can arrange otherwise," Ludociel rebutted, not at all humoring her excuses. Raising a brow, he elaborated, "And this would reflect wonderfully on your resume and paycheck. In fact it might open the door for you to pursue that international journalism thing you were so interested in when we were in university. The war reporting one, right?"

Bingo - that was it. Her dream, the dream, she had dropped once she realised how impossible it was. Hands full with everything else in her life, ranging from Meliodas to her adaptation to adult life, Elizabeth had given up on reporting overseas, stuck right in the middle of perilous countries with wars and gangs and smuggling routes.

Simply put, too many people depended on her. Diane, Elaine, Meliodas: they all depended on her in ways that could simply not be replaced. If something unfortunate were to happen (which was highly likely) it would crush them. Dying abroad, getting caught in the middle of an international conflict, would surely be testing their limits. And Elizabeth was simply much too caring to test that.

Yet, that path, that option, had always been her dream.

"Right," Swallowing thickly, Elizabeth nodded.

"So I guess the choice is simple for you, no?" Ludociel expanded, his gaze a lot more pressing as he stared at her. Pressure, he was ramping up the pressure with a thinly veiled threat. Nothing new. Yet Elizabeth felt its weight as the seconds ticked on by, knowing very well that Ludociel could make or break her career. "You wouldn't want to let us down."

"At all," Elizabeth agreed, but her brain was screaming all hell otherwise. Swallowing the sour taste in her mouth, Elizabeth gave a strained smile. "So I will go to Edinburgh."

"Exactly."

Business done and concluded, she mechanically said her farewells and scurried from the office, heart pounding in her chest once more. This was something she hadn't wanted to do. Going to Scotland, all the way to Edinburgh, had been her last interpretation of Jericho's instructions about space. Nevertheless, the universe was supplying to her now, like a knife pressed firmly against her throat. Elizabeth would be an idiot to refuse it.

Releasing a heavy sigh, the woman walked away from the office and back toward the main working space, filled to the brim with cubicles and panicked journalists. Just as she turned the corner, a familiar face popped up, as eager and energetic as a puppy.

"Hey Elizabeth," Mael. Much more scruffy this morning, long silver hair mussed and tie halfway done. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. Had he spent the night?

"Hey," Elizabeth smiled wanly in response, adjusting her shoulder bag. Her fingers felt tight.

"Coffee?" He offered, almost as if he sensed her anxiety and agitation. Raising a brow, he grinned a little more, "My treat?"

Dangerous. It was dangerous to grow so close to somebody like Mael, someone eager to please and bursting with friendliness. For Elizabeth the risk was too great that she'd grow attached - if she hadn't already - and it wasn't healthy to make him fill the void Meliodas left behind. But... she was feeling lonely. Far too lonely. And loneliness often killed the heart faster than escapism ever did.

"Coffee," Elizabeth nodded, her wane smile turning into a bright one. "But Diane's coming along too."

That way he'd never become the flimsy plaster sealing her gaping wound.