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minister-for-femslash · 5 years

Text

The Mother Fish

Summary; After being rescued from the Monster’s possession, Eliot tries to take Quentin on a boat trip but it doesn’t go well.

Pairing; Quentin and Eliot

Word Count; 2,614

Authors Note; For @cldfiredrgn Happy Halloween

Quentin stands on the bow of the Muntjac. The majestic sails flutter in the wind and he grips the rail tight to stop himself from tumbling over the side as the ship flies gracefully through the air.

He stares down at the ocean; the colours move just beneath the surface of the river, blues and reds, and purples. They sway back and forth, swooping left and then right, circling around each other. Like they’re dancing.

There’s the tap, tap, tap of Eliot’s cane against the wooden floor and Quentin turns to face him.

“Hey,” Eliot says. There’s a glassy look in his eye. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“The mating ritual of the cullyral fish. Fen says it only happens once ever fifty years. Plover got it wrong.” Eliot stands next to Quentin and leans over the rail.

He’s a little too careless for Quentin’s liking, swaying from side to side slightly, and in the end Quentin places his hand on Eliot’s arm, just to steady him.

“You see, there -“ Eliot points at a green light emerging from the water, growing larger and larger, as the other fish swim around it - “the mother fish.”

Quentin laughs. “The mother fish?”

“That’s what Fen called it. The mother fish. The other fish flock to her, try to win her affection with their brightly coloured tails, but she’ll only pick one. And she’ll stay with that one fish until the day they both die.”

“That’s… Sweet,” Quentin says.

Eliot lifts his head and looks at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. This is great.” Quentin smiles, but it’s weak, even he knows that and after a moment he allows it to just fall away.

“I thought… I thought you’d like it.”

“I do. It’s beautiful.”

“But?”

“I don’t know,” Quentin sighs. “I guess Fillory’s just lost a little of it’s shine since we found out it was real. This looks amazing, but there’s probably something horrible going on beneath the surface, like the mother fish devouring all of the fish she chooses not to mate with, or something.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Quentin looks over at Eliot. He leans heavily on his cane. His breathing seems laboured and uneven, his shoulders are hunched. His hair messily tumbles down around his face.

“Are you okay?” Quentin asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Eliot tries to wave him away, but there’s a stutter in his voice and his hand is pressed against his stomach where the axe plunged in.

“No, you’re not.” Quentin wraps his arm around Eliot’s waist, pulls him closer and Eliot immediately leans against him. “Come on.” Quentin leads Eliot away from the railing, and they head inside.

——-

Eliot flops onto the first sofa that they come across and slumps down against the cushions. His skin is unnaturally pale and there’s a heavy sheen of sweat across his forehead.

Quentin kneels down in front of him. He presses his fingers against Eliot’s forehead. He’s warm.

“Jesus, Eliot.” Quentin starts to undo the buttons on Eliot’s shirt. The three at the bottom so that the bandage on Eliot’s stomach becomes visible. There’s a small smattering of blood “We shouldn’t have come. You’re not ready to be out.”

“I didn’t want you to miss the mother fish.”

“Your health is more important. This wound is serious, Eliot. You could’ve died.” Quentin grabs one of the bags he managed to hurriedly pack before they left; the one he stuffed full of medical supplies. He takes out a bandage and a packet alcohol free antiseptic wipes.

He slowly peels back the bandage on Eliot’s stomach. There’s blood on Eliot’s skin, and Quentin’s not sure but he thinks that some of the stitches have popped.

He takes an antiseptic wipe and begins to clean away the blood. He keeps his touch gentle, almost delicate and he can feel Eliot staring down at him, watching him closely. His mouth feels dry.

“It’s one of your favourite parts of the Secret Sea. When Jane and Rupert get lost in that little dingy and the light from the mother fish’s tail lights the way for them. I just… I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“You have.”

“I’m sorry.” Eliot reaches down and clasps Quentin’s hand. “I just wanted…” Eliot’s head slumps to the side. His eyes close for a few seconds, then open and they’re still glassy. Then they close again.

“Eliot, have you taken something?”

“Just some painkillers. I wanted to… I wanted to show you…” Eliot’s breathing becomes deep. He’s asleep.

Quentin takes the clean bandage and gently places it over Eliot’s wound. It’s self-sticking and Quentin runs his fingers along the edges just to make sure it’s secure.

He quickly redoes the buttons on Eliot’s shirt and then pulls it down slightly, covering up Eliot’s stomach again.

He heads to the heart of the Muntjac and asks her (nicely) if they can turn around and head back to Castle Whitespire. She must understand because they immediately make a hard left. He thanks her and heads back to Eliot, who has slumped further into the sofa.

He takes Eliot’s shoulders and slowly lowers him down onto the sofa. He removes Eliot’s boots and brings his legs up. There’s a cushion, which he tucks under Eliot’s hand. Eliot immediately curls into it, gripping it tight.

Quentin takes off his jacket and gently drapes it over Eliot.

-----

Eliot spends the next twenty four hours in bed. Margo sends the official doctor to Castle Whitespire to check on him, but when he marvels at the stitches on Eliot’s stomach, as if he’s never seen anything like it before, Quentin decides Eliot needs somebody better.

He sends a bunny to Julia and then waits. Fifteen minutes later the same bunny returns, this time with a message for him.

“Incoming,” the bunny croaks. “Incoming.”

Quentin leans down. “What?”

“Hey dude.”

Quentin spins around and sees Penny standing in the middle of the throne room, with Professor Lipson clinging tightly onto his arm. She has her medical kit with her.

“Julia said Eliot needed us,” Penny says.

“Yeah, thanks for coming so quickly.”

Penny shrugs his shoulders. “No sweat. What do you need?”

“Actually -“ Quentin turns to Professor Lipson - “I was hoping you could check on Eliot. He tried to go out yesterday and it didn’t go well.”

“He went out.” Professor Lipton shakes her head, in obvious frustration. “Where is he?”

“In his room, I’ll show you.” Quentin heads out of the throne room with Professor Lipson following just behind.

“Cool, I guess I’ll just wait here then,” Penny says.

Quentin quietly knocks on Eliot’s door. There’s no response. Eliot might be asleep, so Quentin slowly opens the door and the light from the nearby window falls across his face. The quilt is wrapped tightly around him, almost like a cocoon, the pillow tucked underneath his head.

Quentin steps inside. He keeps his footsteps light, almost tiptoeing over. He delicately sits on the edge of the bed and softly shakes Eliot’s shoulder. Eliot stirs gently, his eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile appears on his face as he stares up at Quentin.

“Hey.” Eliot brushes the hair away from his eyes.

“Hi. Sorry to wake you, but Professor Lipson is here to see you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Eliot starts to lift himself up. His arms shake and he struggles slightly. Quentin puts his hands on Eliot’s shoulders and helps to lift him up, placing a pillow behind his back so he can prop himself up.

“Better?” Quentin asks.

“Yes, thanks.”

Professor Lipson is standing in the doorway, her kit bag clutched tightly in her hand.

“I’ll be right outside,” Quentin says.

-----

Quentin paces outside of Eliot’s room; up and down, up and down the corridor. Professor Lipson’s check up doesn’t take as long as he’s expecting, and fifteen minutes after he left the room, Professor Lipton does as well.

“How is he? Is it bad?” Quentin asks.

“Of course it’s bad. He was stabbed in the gut, with an axe, and because I couldn’t use magic to heal him, he needs a lot of care and a lot of bedrest. He really needs to be back at Brakebills, under my care. But if he really wants to stay here, then he needs to stay in bed, not go traipsing around on boats.”

“I know. We were just…” Quentin sighs, because he isn’t exactly sure what they were doing and even if he did, he’s not sure it would be a good enough reason.

“Okay. Well, he did pop a couple of stitches, but it’s nothing to be too concerned about. Just keep changing his bandages and if he needs something for the pain give him two of these every four to six hours-“ she hands Quentin a pill bottle - “and not whatever he’s been taking. It’s important.”

“I understand. I’ll take care of him.”

“I know you will.” She touches his arm and for a moment Quentin remembers her standing on that roof, and then she pulls back, and he forces the memory away.

“While it’s nice to finally see a piece of Fillory, I need to be getting back to Brakebills.”

“Sure, yeah. Hopefully Penny stuck around.”

They head back to the throne room and Quentin feels a little relieved and more than a little surprised to see Penny still there, sitting on Margo’s throne.

“All done?” Penny asks.

“Yeah, we’re done,” Quentin replies.

“Good.” Penny jumps to his feet and holds out his hand for Professor Lipson. “Shall we get going?”

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Quentin says.

“No big. I’ve come to accept my role as the group’s resident taxi service.”

“Sorry.”

Penny sighs. “It’s cool. Well, no it isn’t but Julia asked so here I am.”

“How are you and Julia?”

“We’re good. She misses you. You should, I don’t know, come and visit or something. When Eliot is feeling better.”

“I will.”

“Cool, see you around, I guess.” Penny takes Professor Lipson’s hand and the two of them disappear.

Quentin hovers in the throne room for a moment, almost dancing from foot to foot as he decides what to do next. Part of him wants to go and check on Eliot - a large part of him - but another part of him wants to let Eliot sleep.

He tries to read for a bit; the Wandering Dune, his favourite of the Fillory and Further books, but he can’t focus on the words. He ends up walking aimlessly through the corridors of Castle Whitespire, and in the end he does what he was always going to do and heads to Eliot’s room.

He knocks quietly. There’s no response and he knows that he should walk away, leave Eliot to sleep. But he doesn’t. Instead he slowly opens the door.

Eliot is awake.

He’s still propped up against the pillow. His head is down, his hair tumbling down around his face. The room is dark. The curtain now drawn so there’s no light from the window.

“Eliot,” Quentin says.

Eliot quickly looks up and Quentin can see what he thinks are tear stains on his cheeks.

“Hey.”

“Is everything…” Quentin stops. “Are you okay?”

“When am I not okay?” Eliot smiles. It’s wides and full, but also empty and a little hollow.

“When you’ve been stabbed in the gut with an axe.”

“That was nothing.” Eliot gives a dismissive wave of his hand.

Quentin hovers by the door. “Do you need anything? Water or soup or something?”

“No. I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Quentin takes a breath. “I’ll let you get some rest.” He turns to leave.

“Have you been reading?” Eliot asks, pointing to the book in Quentin’s hand.

He hadn’t realised he was still holding it. “Yeah, just a little.”

“It’s your favourite.”

“Yeah. I love the part where the elves race down Mount Ardey.”

“Yeah, it’s good. We could… We could go and see it, if you wanted. I could ask Fen, I’m sure she knows when it happens.”

“We can go when you’re feeling better,” Quentin replies.

“Oh, okay.” Eliot seems to visibly deflate, sinking down into the pillow. “Sure, I understand.”

“Eliot, it’s important for you rest.”

“I know.”

Quentin doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Eliot asks.

“What?”

“You wanted to go on a boating quest, with me. You wanted to go with me, and I said no. I should’ve said yes.”

“You had to stay. Margo needed you.”

“I should’ve said yes,” Eliot whispers.

“Eliot, what are you…” Quentin sighs. He drops his book onto a nearby table and walks over to Eliot. “Talk to me. Please. Something’s wrong and I think you should talk to me.”

Eliot hesitates and for a moment Quentin thinks he’s going to say no. To say no and send him away. But Eliot doesn’t.

“I should’ve said yes.”

“Eliot…”

“But I didn’t. I just… I was afraid and so I did what I always do when I’m afraid. I ran away. I’m sorry. But I promised myself. I promised you that if I ever got out of there, if I was ever me again that I would be, I don’t know, braver. Or maybe just brave. And I’m trying, Q, I’m really trying. I want to be the person you spent fifty years with. I want to be the person you… I want to be that person. Because you’re right, we work. We worked then and we can work now. I just have to be brave. Please, I want to be brave.”

Quentin doesn’t say a word. He holds his breath and stays perfectly still while Eliot speaks. He doesn’t know how to reply, not because he had nothing to say but because he doesn’t know where to start.

He drops down onto the bed and runs his hands through his hair, once and then twice. His mind is swimming. Eliot spoke so quickly, almost like he was trying to get the words out as fast as possible, which Quentin understands, but it’s left him with a lot of information, and nowhere near enough time to think it all through.

“You still want that, don’t you?” Eliot asks.

“I just want you to be safe, and well,” he says and then immediately winces because he knows that it’s not enough. That this is a moment that matters. “You were lost for so long. I thought I was never going to see you again, that the last time I would see your face it wouldn’t be you behind your eyes. When my dad died, you were the only person I wanted to talk to because you’re the person that I spent my life with. You and Arielle.”

“But I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now. That’s the most important thing, don’t you see that. I don’t care about boat quests or cullyral fish or racing elves. I care that you’re here and you’re alive.”

“I don’t want us to lose anymore time because I’m afraid.”

“We have all the time we need.” Quentin reaches out and takes Eliot’s hand.

“So you still… You still love me?”

“Do you really think I stopped?”

Eliot smiles, a real one this time. He shifts over on the bed, leaving a space next to him. Quentin shrugs off his shoes and then lies down. He shuffles around to get comfortable and when he finally settles Eliot’s arms wrap around him. Quentin snuggles into Eliot’s chest and the two of them sink into each other in a way that is so familiar and so natural despite how long it’s been.

Together, they sleep.

#hkf trick or treat #The Magicians #Quentin Coldwater #Eliot Waugh #queliot #Quentin/Eliot #fic

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