Quote of the Chapter:

"Why had I thought of it that way? As a friendship both of us needed? That didn't make any sense at all."
― Malorie Blackman, Noughts and Crosses

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Time (always) passes

Exactly two weeks had passed. True to her word Elizabeth had gone to France. For an entire week, desperate to distract herself within the sheer excitement and joy of the events she was being paid to report on, Elizabeth had tried to lose herself in that week. Long beach walks, studying the layouts of the different towns in the area - even enduring a long-winded tale from a pleasant old lady had been used to pass time.

Alas, France was a drag. All of her life, Elizabeth had always hated her French lessons. Whenever her mother encouraged her to be more in touch with her French roots, to try and be more proactive in her French lessons, it had always led to a disagreement. French culture was never the problem; Elizabeth was just never interested with it in the first place. France never claimed a piece of her heart.

Being there had only made that truth all the more jarring. Being in France - solely because she didn't want to be in the UK, faced with countless reminders of Meliodas - only made the truth all the more harmful.

Stupid, it was stupid to use work to lose herself. Rule one-oh-one of being Elizabeth Liones was knowing that Meliodas could always permeate her brain whenever she was at work. Back in the office, across the small channel, Meliodas would always find a way to fill her thoughts; in France - one ferry ride away - it was no different. Why would it be any different?

That week in France was miserable. Even with all the fun and joy and excitement spread about her, Elizabeth was miserable. A complete sour puss. If she were there, Diane would smack her about the head for being so ill-tempered in the world-renowned centre of art, science and philosophy. Finally, she was a step closer to living out her dreams and there Elizabeth was pouting and throwing a strop about it.

How beautiful.

Once the week in France had expired, Elizabeth wasted no time in telling Ludociel that she was taking two weeks off to work from home. Bullshit had been spun to win her the two weeks, a small white lie about her sister not coping very well. None of it was questioned. Happy with her latest work, Ludociel seamlessly gave her two weeks and the prospect of going to Mexico if all went well.

So here Elizabeth was now, two hours from London - Oxford. Last time she had been here Margaret had lived in a flat, a bright smile on her face as she gushed to her younger sister about how great university was. Law had been the original plan for Margaret; halfway through she decided to switch, taking up the career path of a midwife.

Now Margaret no longer lived in her shared flat. Content and settled, she passed her days in her own little house, happily married and welcoming her first ever child just over a year ago.

Really, Elizabeth was terrible for never having paid a visit. Everything was done over phone calls or text messages, her mind too preoccupied to actually think about visiting Margaret. Everything to do with her father, anyone to do with her father, was always an afterthought with Elizabeth. She never wanted to be a burden for them. She never wanted to feel like an intruder. She was, after all, the unexpected half-sister.

"Elizabeth!" A tight hug was the last thing she expected. Over the past few years there was little change: long lavender hair, warm cinnamon eyes and the scent of calming jasmine always wafted about her older sister. "I'm so glad you decided to visit."

"Me too," Elizabeth found herself admitting, burying her face within her sister's shoulder. She had forgotten how nice it was to be around her, how all of her worries could just melt away. "I've been terrible for leaving it for so long."

"You're a young woman, time is short," Margaret laughed, a lovely sound that was carried in the air like a soft lullaby. Separating from the hug, she kept an arm on her sister's shoulder, complete with an empathetic smile. "I completely understand."

Margaret always understood. Always. That was why Elizabeth often came to visit her whenever she felt lost, her older sister often acting as a compass needle in times of uncertainty. Veronica - her other sister - had always been the tough love type. When Elizabeth was at her lowest, wallowing away in ice-cream and trashy movies, Veronica would visit her. Kicking down the door, voice thundering with a tough scolding, she would yank her sister out into the streets and give her a stern talking to.

But Margaret - lovely Margaret - had always been like the mother Elizabeth never had. Understanding, empathetic - not insanely paranoid by her religion - Margaret was the guiding figure that Elizabeth had lacked.

Honestly, the real pity was how little she came to see her sister. Perhaps, if they had spent more time together, Elizabeth would have turned out much better.

Welcoming as always, Margaret held her front door open for Elizabeth. Red - that was the colour of the paint. Bright red, apple red, red as the blood that pumped and bled from a human body. Gold numbers were hammered into the wooden material, a shimmering display of the address: 72. Number 72. Oddly it matched her sister, always so ancient in her mindset.

"Gilthunder told me that he bumped into you a few months ago," Margaret began, flicking the switch on the kettle. They were in the kitchen now, Elizabeth seated at the rich oak table and Margaret stationed at the kitchen counter, watching over the bubbling contents of a silver saucepan.

"Yes, he did," Elizabeth answered, an embarrassed blush forming at the memory. Those few months ago, wandering around Soho with Meliodas, jokingly reenacting scenes from Last Night in Soho, they had bumped into Gilthunder. It had been quite a mess explaining what she was doing out late, hair a frazzled mess as she did a horrible dance number in the middle of an empty alleyway. It was an even bigger mess explaining the dark bruise left on her neck.

"You were with..." Margaret paused, thought passing over her cinnamon eyes as steam whistled from the kettle. Turning off, the switch flicked once more - an abrupt popping noise. "Meliodas, right?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded. Another heavy blush.

For a moment only the soft spit of the contents of the saucepan filled the kitchen. Stillness, peace: they were two things that often invaded Margaret's home. There never was a cause for much noise, never was a reason to cause a large scene. Margaret's home was always a safe haven; Margaret always was someone you could go to just to vent and unwind.

Yet, Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to be entirely open. Not yet. So much time had passed and so many things had changed. Elizabeth herself had changed. Who was to say that Margaret hadn't either?

"How is everything with him?" Margaret finally breached the overwhelming heaviness, carrying over two mugs of a pleasant-smelling tea. Jasmine. Her ultimate scent, her ever-lasting aroma, carried through the air by her as well as the warm tea.

"Complicated," Elizabeth found herself saying, gratefully accepting her mug with a small smile. On it was the family crest, two hanging stars and a crescent moon, printed in blue. "Like always."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Margaret murmured, taking a seat across from Elizabeth. True disappointment seemed to sit within her eyes, joined by the thumb that swept over the smooth porcelain of her mug. Pursing her lips, she added quietly, "I thought he would've grown out of that by now."

"We all did," Elizabeth whispered, eyes skirting the soft cotton tablecloth.

Before the usual blanket of calm could settle - or even a suffocating one of tension - a new noise broke through. Foreign, high-pitched, it was slightly reminiscent to Elizabeth's ears as she watched her sister stiffen, setting down her cup of tea. Elegantly, flawlessly, she almost glided from her seat at the table, long lavender hair swishing with every movement of her floral patterned dress.

"He must have woken up," Margaret smiled, another warm and gentle thing as she paused by Elizabeth. Delicate hands, soft hands, squeezed at her shoulder as her sister glanced at her. "Do you want to see him?"

Was that even a question?

"Yes," Elizabeth automatically answered, stiffly clambering up from her own seat. Again she was feeling bashful - fourteen again and bumbling - forever awkward around her older sister. "That was actually why I came to visit."

"Aww aren't you sweet?" Margaret's gaze softened, crinkling her brown eyes at the edges. Motherly, lovely: that look suited her sister a lot.

Side by side they had gone to the nursery. Timid, unsure like a newborn deer, Elizabeth had followed her sister, watched in awe as she scooped up the healthy baby, dark wisps of hair sprouting from his tiny bean head. Vulnerable, pure, beautifully blissful: yes, that was what Elizabeth would describe her nephew as. He was perfect in every way, shape and form. Absolutely lovely.

In the end she couldn't hold him, couldn't bring herself to rock and bounce the infant in the same way her sister had done. Part of her felt that it would be wrong. As linked to disaster as she was, as troubled as she was, Elizabeth felt that she would simply bring bad luck into tiny Chion's life just by simply touching him. Yes, that was her excuse.

Tears. Hot tears, salty tears, bad tears had been the reason why she told Margaret that she needed some fresh air. Closing the front door, hopping into her rented car and driving to the University's campus was simply a distraction. Knowing that corner, like the back of her hand, she knew where to head: a group of young people hanging around in plain jumpers, backpacks slung over the shoulders. One simple exchange and she got a lot for a simple tenner.

Lighter flickering to life beneath her fingers, Elizabeth fell back into old habits. Her own bad habit. To fill the gap he left behind, to fill all the many gaps within her life, she had always sought something to fill it up. Part of it was Meliodas' fault; he should have never introduced her to it. Most of it was her fault, becoming too dependent on him to see that she would need a crutch, a replacement fix, to keep herself going.

Smoking had never been a number one habit. Smoking didn't suit women like her, pretty women, smart women, women with a future. But knowing she had no true future, wasting it on someone who truly didn't want her, what else did Elizabeth have to lose? Dignity? God, she had lost that long ago.

Middle finger up, hiking up her skirt, she had ran out of the church, eighteen years old and nothing more than the clothes on her back to her name. That day her mother had been mortified. To this day, Elizabeth didn't believe that she'd truly forgiven her.

Distracting her, half-startling her, Elizabeth's phone rang. A sharp buzz, jumping against the passenger seat as she took a breath of her roll-up, she saw her phone light up.

Shaking her head, she answered, "Hello?"

"Hey, Elizabeth," Concerned and yet casual, Mael's voice was a strange tone to hear within her ears. Used to hearing different voices - a voice that had dominated her mind and dreams for years - she wasn't quiet sure how to listen to his. How to absorb it fully. "You doing ok?"

One million and one times that question had been thrown at her. From Diane, from Jericho - from every nosy Parker in between. Only when the fine cracks began to show, the shadows under her eyes and the redness from the growing piles of empty plastic bags, did anyone truly wonder if something was going on. Then they would ask her and time and time again, she would give the same answer.

"Yeah," Elizabeth shrugged, rolling down the car window. Can't be choking on fumes now - no, not like when she was dumb enough to get away with it. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You haven't been in for a while," Mael responded. Of course her absence would be noted. Of course he would care about it. Left out of the loop - more or less left hanging ever since Scotland - Mael was late on the most recent updates. He was late on everything going haywire in her once balanced life. "And Diane's been dropping hints."

"Of course," Was all Elizabeth could bring herself to say. Another lengthy drag from her homemade cigarette, more smoke spewing out the window. "Tell her I'm doing fine. I took her advice."

"Ok," Reluctant. Almost as if he didn't believe her. And Elizabeth knew, could feel it from across the screen and all its many signals, that he was looking at nothing - looking at her - with those perceptive eyes of his. Homed in on her words, absorbing every second meaning, she knew that Mael could sense that something was wrong. But unlike everyone else he wouldn't push. He never pushed.

Maybe that was why she liked him so much.

"Thank you," Elizabeth found herself saying, grateful. Oddly. Maybe that was why the tears were pooling in her eyes, pinching at the corners as she tried to bury down the stiff sniff from her nose. "You... you didn't have to check up on me like that. I appreciate it."

For a while there was nothing. Just smoke climbing into the air, a twisting column of chemicals and pain as Elizabeth stared at nothing in particular, grey miserable skies stretched up above. Nothing was relaxing. Nothing was nice. Nothing was... something she could get used to if it meant not feeling the sensation of missing Meliodas. Yes, nothing could be lovely.

Staring at nothing. Breathing in nothing. Feeling nothing. These two weeks were meant to be about feeling nothing. So why couldn't she do it? Without the help, without the crutch, why couldn't she do it? Why was tuning him out so hard?

"Elizabeth," Mael spoke once more, a clear signal in the middle of a heady cloud of fog. Bright, powerful. These days he was one of the few things to pierce the veil of pain, to wash away the effects of the pain. "You know, if you're in trouble or anything you can always ask for help, right? For anything."

And, in that moment, it felt like she could. In that moment, carried in a cloud of chemicals and not entirely sure on where she should be, Elizabeth felt like she could tell him the entire truth. About Meliodas. About Alioni. About the entire saga that was their decade old friendship. Every little truth, every little detail, could be slipped out in that moment.

Still, she chose to keep quiet. Being quiet, keeping quiet, was all she had ever known how to do.

"I know," Sucking in a deep breath, pure oxygen this time, Elizabeth admitted it shakily. Could he sense her trembling resolve?

"I'm just saying because," Mael paused, almost as if he were thinking about his words. Or maybe it wasn't that, maybe it was because he knew - could tell - exactly what she was feeling. "I know what it's like to carry the world on your shoulders. Sometimes it's better to not shoulder it alone, you know?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded, but she didn't feel like agreeing. At all. Each problem she bore was one of her own; her own problems were of her own making. Solving them should be her job.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped," Mael quickly cleared his throat. Perhaps her tone of voice had given the defensiveness away, the edge to her system as Elizabeth shifted in the driver's seat. "I really didn't mean to."

"You didn't," Elizabeth answered quickly, surprising herself as she swallowed down the building lump in her throat. Tossing the still glowing roll of papers and dried leaves, she sighed, "I just... need a break. That's all."

From everyone. From everything.

"Ok."

And he didn't push because Mael never pushed. Instead he ended the call, a click on his end, leaving Elizabeth staring, wondering just why she couldn't tell anyone the truth - no matter how much time passed.

Only she had needed him. Only one of them needed their friendship - and unfortunately - it was her. Lonely, sorrowful her.