#paggie

God save the Queen... From me!

Maggie, Penelope and Charlotte had been quiet in the car mostly. Just one or two words, hand holding, supportive squeezes, smiles of solidarity, but the air had felt too tense and the coming event too full of anxiety for full conversation. Now however they were in one of the waiting rooms next to the main hall of one of the main conference buildings in central London, and despite the impending closeness of the task ahead, they had loosened a little and were chatting more than they had on the journey here. Maggie had brought along Anya's little good luck gift- the fun flask filled with some ominous yet apparently useful whiskey-laced potion, along with the selection of shot glasses. She had poured a small portion of the concoction into three of the glasses, the fourth- the one she had silently dubbed Tess'- left empty for a moment, before, in honour of Tess, she decided to fill that also. She handed Pen the one assigned to her- Homer cursing his trademark 'D'oh!'- and handed Charlotte the glass depicting the well-known character in a moment of intrigued surprise. Her own featured a drunk Homer Simpson. It felt apposite. She sniffed at the liquid, and was grateful to find the mixture of alcohol and bark made it smell like a wood-matured whiskey more than anything else. "I say it couldn't hurt," She told the other two.

Penelope recoiled at the shot glass, Homer Simpson, potion and all. "There is whiskey mutilating what is already a potion of unknown origins. Are we sure 'couldn't hurt' is the way we want to describe this, darling?" she asked.

Charlotte chuckled softly at Pen's reaction to the shot glass. Of course while Pen was more worried about the drink itself, Charlotte couldn't look past the awful, tacky shot glass. "Never mind the potion, what am I to make of this shot glass? If this is to be my last drink I'd at least like to have it out of a diamond studded glass." She flashed her first smile of the day and added, "Though I must admit I'm not fond of this mixture either."

Maggie rolled her eyes good naturedly. "If Cicero himself," Apparently; she wasn't sure how much she trusted that particular 'fact', "can drink it, we can. It's just one tiny shot...I've witnessed you drink something a lot worse and a lot, well, smellier Char," She commented knowingly, referring to their more youthful days, "And the glasses are, well, they're fun.....don't you think they're fun?" She asked them both, her expression genuinely curious, like a child who could not fathom why their parents didn't wish to play in the mud.

Penelope winced as the looked at the glasses. Charlotte was right and more. To say that they were tacky would be more than a little kind. But she saw the earnest, child-like look in Maggie's bright blue eyes. No pout had ever looked more sincere or felt more persuasive. In spite of her apprehensions, Penelope found herself sighing and holding out her hand for the glass. "I...I don't know about fun, but in this case" for you, she thought, "... I will relent."

Charlotte: scoffed, "I certainly have not drank anything smelly." She started to hand the thing back but one look at Maggie's pout that she was oh so familiar with stopped her. One drink couldn't be too harmful. "I suppose as long as Penelope will brave this task with me I'll drink it." She moved in closer to Maggie and said, "Shall we do our usual pre-shots ritual?" She could not count the number of times the pair of them had done their clinking of shot glasses before the long drink; she also couldn't remember the last time they had done it. It only seemed appropriate they add a little bit of style and fun to the atrocious glasses and mixture.

Maggie smiled at Charlotte as she shuffled closer to her in their uncomfortably hard chairs. So many times the clinking of glasses in the past, the downing of some experimental shot before the glass would come clattering, upturned, onto the table. An easier and simpler time. New Watchers, undermining the Senior staff with their antics. Now they were the Senior staff, trying to save the younger ones. Times had changed and roles moved around, but some things could stay the same. Things like this, "Certainly," She nodded in agreement and gestured for Penelope to mimic them. "Bottoms up," Maggie commented dryly, slightly doubting the decision herself as she saw the potion up close, before they clinked glasses and each downed the drink in one foul swallow, the glasses coming down on the small, beaten table between them with a collective clatter. Maggie shuddered a little, "Tasted more of....earth than whiskey"

Penelope felt a strange pang as she saw Maggie and Charlotte agree to re-enact a passage from their youth. She had no conception of it, let alone a share of her own. She had barely been more than a child when they'd first begun to drink. How different things were for them all now. Penelope raised her glass with the rest of them and set it down with a determined smack when she'd finished. Maggie was right. There was far more of a ripe, earthen taste to it than whiskey. She gagged a little on it but composed herself quickly enough. "This had better work," she said wryly. "Are we ready, ladies?"

Charlotte: did her best not to scrunch her nose up at the awful concoction. Luckily, it was over as quickly as it has come and she was only left with a bitter taste in her mouth. "I'm ready as I will ever be." she stated, handing her glass back to Maggie. In truth, Charlotte had been ready for this her entire life. It felt like her final moment, her ultimate chance to battle the evil in the world. She would do what she must to keep her girls safe as she always had.

Penelope took each of her friend's hands and gave them a squeeze. "Good." She had made a point of getting time with her loved ones in today, just in case. But these two women stood beside her were different. These were the women she drank with, cried and plotted with. She would fight with these women, die with them, perhaps. Penelope eyed the empty glass, the one that should have been held by Tess, and straightened up. “And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,” She smirked. Penelope gave Maggie and Charlotte her proudest, most confident look, turned, and lead their procession into the hall.

Maggie couldn't help but smile. Of course Pen would quote the St Crispin's Day speech, what else? In a way, that familiar over-dramatic, rather poetic way of Penelope's rallied Maggie in a way little else could. It was not so much the words themselves, as the sentiment and nature behind them. "This had better be less eventful than the Battle of Agincourt, that's all I'll say" Maggie commented wryly as the three of them followed out. She felt that tension in her stomach, that growing knot she hadn't felt since she had been forced to read her essay out in a primary school assembly when she was ten years old. She looked around, saw the people sat at many tables, picking over small snacks. The cause-driven, the rich, the poor, the obligated were all in attendance in the room along with several reporters and one or two cameras, though thankfully nowhere near as many as would have been at a press conference. She got the eye of one of the co-president's of the charity organisation- she had worked with her many times before in the past- and received a supportive smile in return for her own. Everyone in the know was highly aware of what was at stake here. She glanced back, flashing a toothy grin at Charlotte- it was brighter than she truly felt- as they mounted the temporary stage that was barely more than a foot elevated from the ground. But it had desks to sit behind in an illusion of safety, and chairs that were cushioned and far comfier than the ones in the back room.

Charlotte responded to Maggie's large smile with a small one of her own. As they made their way through the crowd, she couldn't help but analyze each person they passed. What would they think of their announcement? Did of of them know about Salem? And even worse, the thought that set her stomach doing flips, what would they say if they knew she was the person responsible for Salem and ultimately Salem's death? She swallowed hard and put on a calm face. No, she couldn't make this about her and her personal worries. She must be strong for Maggie, Penelope, and all the girls. She slipped her hand into her left pocket and gave the elephant Jayan had gifted her a light squeeze. She wasn't one to believe in luck, but if there was a such thing she needed all she could get now. She seated herself in one of the desks provided and awaited the coming moments.

Penelope felt her heart leap into her throat. There were indeed a great many people present. They glittered, smiled, and looked on warily. Business and society acquaintances gave her nods, even, to her great surprise, her cousins Violet and Sybil Fairfax. God help her. Penelope poised herself and smiled quaintly, a gentle, gracious expression that did not belie the seriousness of the situation. It was not for nothing that she wore her finest and darkest of blacks for this. Tess should have been here. The president of the organisation gave them a brief introduction, energetic and welcoming. All Penelope could think was that she wanted it to be over so that their moment would arrive. Waiting for it felt more agonising than any botch ever would. When they finally had the floor she widened her smile appreciatively, “Thank you ever so much for having us, it means the world.” She looked out into the audience, willing herself to be as earnest as she was strong. “All of you. To be here amongst you all as part of such a noble organisation that I have admired and worked with for so many years means more than I can say. But as some of you already know, it is not just because of my long-standing partnership with this group that I am speaking with you today. You have all seen and heard the words on your news broadcasts and in your papers. You’ve seen the fear and the violence in London’s streets. ‘Slayer.’ ‘Watcher.’ ‘Metahuman.’ These words have been used to spawn MIRA, to create paranoia and discrimination. But these words are not just words. These are identities, and even still, only a fraction of the picture. These are women. Young girls who dream of becoming artists and doctors, your daughters and your daughter’s friends. Your friends. Your cousins.” Her eyes lingered on Violet and Sybil. They were far from close, but she found herself hoping they would forgive her all the same. “Citizens of London. Human beings. And we know and we value above all else the rights and fair treatment of human beings. Your presence here, that work that is done here, the hours put in and the hands that reach out in compassion prove that, don’t they?” The crowd nodded their heads in agreement. The faintest ripple of applause echoed from one or two corner tables. Penelope straightened herself up bravely, ready for the very worst. Until now, there was still room to back out, there was still a time to run, a time to stay hidden and prolong her life to it’s fullest. To make sure,  without fail, that Wesley wouldn’t have to find her with a stake protruding from her chest as James has found Tess. But she had promised to walk into the darkness, and to never falter. “I am here, on this stage today because I believe in this cause and in this organisation. And I am here today because I am a Watcher.” The drumming of her heart in her ears was deafening. “I am a Watcher and I want to work and fight with you all against the injustice rising in this city. I want to stand by your side as an equal. I want young girls to be able to walk home from school without being afraid for their lives. To be able to have the futures they deserve rather than be forced into military service. We are all at our strongest when we are united, and I want very much” she gave an imploring look, “to be united with you.”

Maggie listened as Pen spoke, her eyes scanning the room as her dearest friend made the confession that could either save them all or doom them all. One really didn't know. The faces of the room did not become ones of anger though, shock certainly, but not anger or hatred. That was something. She placed a hand over Penelope's- it was cold, revealing how terrified Pen truly was- and gave it a supportive squeeze, “She always talks in 'I' at moments like this,” She said with a smile at everyone, “But as I'm sure you've all more than accurately guessed it isn't just her, we're all-- “ She took Charlotte's hand also, “all three of us are Watchers,” How strange it felt to make that confession aloud; something she had desperately kept secret for years and years, the majority of her life in fact, “I know when we hear new words, and it's all very foreign and new it can be difficult to accept and understand and to, well, to deal with really- but this is, this is all we are. People, with faces and stories and...embarrassing moments and families and a...and a job that we've done with every ounce of dedication just as anyone puts in their job, anyone at all,” She checked herself with a small smile again, “That's simplifying it a little, I admit, it's not just a job- it has emotional weight to it, our colleagues and the girls we work with are not simply work acquaintances they're....friends and loved ones and family and comrades. But it's not-” She sighed a little, and let out a little laugh, “I'm beginning to think I should have written note cards. I know this new revelation is strange, and probably also, for many, scary, I know, and it is, and my nephew called it....what was the thing he said when he found out?” She tried to remember the franchise he had referenced as comparison when he had discovered what his Aunt really did for a living, “Very X-Men, that's it. I'm afraid I'm not entirely savvy on such a media topic, but I know enough to be aware it's about fear of the unknown and different. And this, /this/ is what we have here. We've seen fear and hatred and--” She thought of Kennedy and Tess and forced herself to keep the tears at bay, “and what that does, and I believe we, not as nation, but as a race, as a /species/ are better than that. Those people,” She pulled her hands away from her friends to gesture generally in some far off direction, “that have taken all this and used it as an excuse for some horrific and terrible violence are not, they don't represent you, us, anyone. I believe we, as a people, are better than that. And /that's/ why we're here, because we know things are changing and we all have to work together, to find a way that is going to do more good than harm, to find a way together, and /I/ believe that we're all good enough and strong enough to find something that doesn't force young girls into joining armies or fascist regimes or God knows what else that terrible minority has in mind, to find a way that doesn't end in violence against one another that doesn't--” She stopped herself,and looked at the small crowd earnestly, “We all want to leave this world a better place than how we found it, don't we?”

Charlotte listened patiently as her friends spoke at length. As she gazed out over the audience though she no longer felt any fear. Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she didn't have an ounce of fear left in her. Years of living in secret, a lifetime of denying herself normal relationships because of her profession and now? Now her secret was being confessed to all of London and eventually all of the world. She wondered how many people would see it? How many of her old friends and lovers? But most of all, she wondered if Alana and Salem would be proud of the words she was going to say. Charlotte took a long breathe before starting, "Above all else the girls the media has deemed 'slayers' and 'super humans' are human. Humans with special skills and powers, but humans nonetheless." She paused to let the message truly sink in. Human, all her girls were human. She began again, "My entire life I have spent training and bonding with the girls as they battles the hidden dangers of the world. I've seen them cry, hurt, win, lose, live, even die. These girls, our girls, are not machines to be lined up in an army. Neither are they people who think they are above any sort of law. They are simply humans who seek to make our world a little safer which is something I believe everyone here can relate to."

Penelope had taken Maggie's hand after her friend had finished speaking and refused to let go. Her body language was as important as her words, she knew that all too well, and so it mattered that she looked at them with rapt attention and admiration while they spoke, that she smiled sheepishly and leaned closer to Mags when she mentioned her. It would matter that they were not women indifferent to one another. It would mean something that when Charlotte spoke of all she had seen of so many girls, she reached out to her as well. Gave her arm an affectionate squeeze and exchanged a gaze of true solidarity. They were friends to one another. Family at heart. And as Penelope looked back into the crowd, she hoped that everyone there would see the good in that. "I believe you're right, Char. And so we," she smiled brighter, highlighting the fact that she wasn't alone (far from it) "are proud to be here and to be so welcomed by you. As Watchers, as women, as fellow human beings. Seeing all the other brilliant, courageous people sharing their stories and their aims today has given us great hope in humanity and what we can do together. And I know in my heart that hope will not go unfulfilled. Thank you so very much, everyone." She squeezed her friends' hands and looked at each of them proudly before rising.

Maggie smiled at the people before them and followed after Pen, Charlotte following close behind as they trickled off stage. She had only got as far as two paces away from the stage when she turned to look back at the desks they had just retreated from. Each of them had had a small glass of water or lemonade that Jeanette, one of the young women at the charity, had set out for them earlier. Both Charlotte and Penelope's were still almost full, but Maggie's was three quarters empty already. Waste not, want not. She dove back up onto the small makeshift stage, grabbed the glass and quickly finished the last little bit of her drink. She looked at the people around and smiled with a small shrug, "Thirsty," She explained quietly before rushing off to follow her two friends into the back room where Homer Simpson and his shot glasses waited.

Charlotte carried herself with as much confidence and grace as possible. The conference had seemed to go well and certainly their kind and touching words had left a good image in the audience's eyes. She turned to ask Maggie how she believed the talk went, but found her friend trotting back to the stage. She watched as Maggie finished the last swig of her drink, smiled, and rushed back to the side of the stage. Charlotte didn't say anything, simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

Penelope matched Charlotte's questioning gaze with a vague air of reproach when Maggie returned to them off-stage. "Very parched, were you, darling?"

Maggie nodded innocently at Penelope's question, and returned Charlotte's look with one of her own, "Very," She agreed, "The air was very drying in there....." She realised that sounded ridiculous even to her. "Oh, alright, you've got me; I had Jeanette make me a Gin and Tonic instead of lemonade. I wasn't going to leave it there."

Charlotte didn't know why she found herself surprised. This was her Maggie after all. "Maggie." She scolded in a stern voice. Her stern voice quickly dissolved into laughter. The easy laughter that always accompanied Maggie's presence. Even Penelope had a smile on her face. "You are something else entirely."

Guests spilled out of he house on Robin Grove in a steady tide early that Christmas Night. On another year, in another world, Penelope would have perhaps been sadder to see them go. She missed them now, of course, but with an unbecoming desperation. Gen was out with Simon, Elaine had retired to her room early, and silence reigned with a heavy fist.

Would Gen be happier tomorrow? Would Peyton? Estela? And where were they now, these precious girls she had proven to be no comfort to? How lonely did they feel, and how heavy was this burden she couldn't lighten for them? And Freya--God in Heaven, would Freya be recognisable when she came back to them? Would she even want them? They had no way of knowing, truly, with any certainty, knowing, what they ought to do for her when she was restored to them. Though Heaven knew if she would be. Penelope dared not entertain any other notion (for, supposing she would not and they perished, Freya's soul would be at peace with the angels and Penelope's would be far, far away where it could not reach her) but that did not mean that any certainty of their existence was truly in place. She laughed bitterly to herself and curled against the couch a little closer. What a marvellous existence their girl was fighting for. What a Christmas she was missing out on! Penelope laughed again, her chuckle rumbling low in her throat, stinging her tongue and bringing back the taste of the cognac she'd downed. It served as a fine distraction from the urge to cry that was building behind her eyes and the building tremble in her bones.

Penelope clenched her teeth together. Maggie was coming downstairs, or she said she was. 'Settled then. I love you. I'll be down in a moment.' And a moment far too soon, with her luck. She didn't feel steady, or happy. The damned smile she'd kept in place all day was worn to rags and impossible to keep up at this hour. You foolish woman, she chided, can't even feign happiness for someone else's sake. Isn't artifice supposed to be your one great vice? And not even for Maggie, for your own---and it was your own idea to drag her out too, you should have thought of that or let her be... Penelope sighed and dragged her fingers through her hair. There was that footstep she'd grown so used to, and then that shadow, that strange, warming sense she felt when they were near each other.

Maggie felt a little tense, a little nervous, a little confused, a little frustrated....a lot of little things but no one large collective emotion was driving her right now. She just knew that she had to have this talk. Since her conversation with Estela she had been mulling things over, trying to explore what exactly her sentiments and feelings were. The problem was this was all entirely new to her, and confusion flooded her mind in a fog that made it very difficult for her to organise her thoughts clearly. There was one thing that was consistent however; that as much as she knew she had to talk this through with Pen, she prayed to God that no matter what happened it wouldn't change things between them. That through her own stupid confusing, well, heart, that something she truly treasured on an entirely platonic level would not in turn be sacrificed. She knocked lightly on the door, but so regular was her habit of visiting Pen, that as usual she didn't wait for an invitation before she creaked open the door and peeped around with a smile. “Just me.”

Penelope smiled up at Maggie from her desk. After the events of last night, or the astounding lack thereof, she hadn't quite been able to summon the effort to attempt happiness for anyone. At least, anyone but Maggie. The woman could get a block of stone to blush, she was sure of it. Raising her chin and forcing a little more brigtness in her demeanour than she felt, Penelope stood and waved her friend in. "It's good to see you," she said softly. She came around from her desk and greeted Maggie by slipping an arm about her and shutting the door behind them. "Where would you like to sit? And what is all of this about anyways?"

Maggie smiled and took the arm the same way she always did, and was pleased to find her recent Estela-induced revelations did not prevent her enjoying such a simple thing on the purely innocent level it was intended. It gave her hope, that no matter what, things could go back to the way they were. At least they could for Maggie...but would they for Pen? She looked at her friend and realised she had absolutely no idea how she was going to take this information, but she also realised she had no choice. She had to speak with her about it. “Anywhere that's comfy,” She replied, “Although,” She lifted the sparkling ballet flat on her foot, like Cinderella at the ball, “I have to say everything got a lot comfier after I put these on.” She let Pen lead her to her a seat as she decided how to explain the conversation, how to start it, “And well....it's...it's about, well, admittedly, it's a little confusing actually. And I'm sure you'll agree on that.”

Penelope lead her friend back to her desk and pulled the seat situated opposite over to the side. Maggie only seemed a little distressed, perhaps more things with Dani that she didn't understand or something of that nature, but there was still personel to manage, emails to be sent, reports and reviews to stort through. For her part, Penelope resumed her seat, a little more relaxed than she had been before, and listened to Maggie with her usual sympathetic ear. "Well tell me what it is, darling," she said. "I'm sure we can sort it out together."

Maggie sat in her seat and bounced a little nervously on her hands. Now that she was here she was entirely uncertain of how to begin. There wasn't really a way she could go about this that would be easy; no matter what it would difficult and complicated and, depending on Pen's reaction, slightly embarrassing. “Okay, know that this is very, very confusing and I may just be saying things as they appear in my head, so I apologise if it seems senseless or rambling or whatever. You see, I spoke with Estela the other day and she asked me about you. Or rather she said how, ah, close we were. I think, if I'm honest, she was checking up on me for your sake. She seemed very protective of you,” Maggie did not allow time for Pen to react to this statement, as she found herself unable to stop talking. She needed to get it all out at once before more silences and more thinking confused her more or made her clam up entirely, “But she seemed to misunderstand and presumed we were....presumed we were a couple,” Maggie laughed a little, still finding it funny that that had indeed been the impression the two of them had inadvertently given off at Thanksgiving, “She asked- you see she asked if we were getting married. And I asked why she would think that and she said because we were clearly in love and that we reminded her of the way she and Gen were, are and la-la-la-la” Maggie etcetera'd the rest of the sentence; she didn't feel she needed to go into more detail there. “The only thing is....I think she may have hit on something. Something I very much hadn't realised.”

Penelope went very still as Maggie spoke. Every word, every breath from the woman was filled with new revelation, new concern, new panic. Estela had asked after her? She had...investigated Maggie? To protect her? To see if the woman was fit? But why… The was only one reason why, as inexplicable as it seemed. In spite of the way they kept each other from getting too close to their darkness, Estela had become...a little devoted to her. She was deft in the way she cared, subtle in her protection. Oh, Estela, Penelope wanted to say, my dear precious girl. But the moment this thought came into her head, it was shoved aside by another: she and Maggie were like...Estela and Gen? A couple? And /clearly in love/? Penelope’s expression turned to one of complete, open confusion. But what was more unnerving than the thought that Estela had presumed that she has thrown Wesley by the wayside for Maggie, was Maggie’s own expression and frailty of composure. The woman was frantic, afraid even. Dazed, Penelope pushed her keyboard away and turned to Maggie. Her heart raced with fright. She couldn’t think it, she couldn’t dare think or suppose even. It was impossible. Something wasn’t right, the touches she and Maggie shared, the way the woman’s smile warmed her, the way the feeling of her arms holding and cradling her close saved her, how those gentle kisses excited her--it was nothing. Purely circumstantial, surely, surely there had to be another name, another place for all this. It couldn’t be what Maggie thought, not now. Paler than she had been before now, Penelope asked with quiet but unmistakable seriousness, “And...what is that, Maggie?"

Maggie breathing became a little more erratic as she mentally forced herself to face her own conclusions, to voice them, to lay them out there for the person it concerned the most to see. She bit her nails briefly, but stopped herself almost as soon as she began, her hand returning to her lap. She tried to form words, a sentence but found her mouth opening and closing and forming numerous shapes without any sound leaving them. Get a grip, Maggie. “Pen....I'm-- I'm in love with you” She eventually managed, her tone betraying the fact she was bewildered by her own lack of self-awareness, thrown that she hadn't known her own heart before Estela had pushed her towards it. “And I had no idea.”

Penelope saw another version of this story unfolding before her eyes. She saw herself pulling Maggie into her arms, professionalism be damned, saw Maggie’s lips soft and sweet on hers, filled with so much pent up tenderness and longing as they kissed. She could almost feel them, wet, gentle, slow and mad with affection as they loved her. She saw them coming home together and laying close in one another’s arms, nothing more or less, just enjoying the almost horrific degree of comfort they gleaned from one another until sleep carried them away. The vision made her nauseous with heartbreak. It couldn’t be. She had promised herself something different. She had promised Wesley. Wesley who had only managed to properly say he loved her for the first time in weeks today, who made her eyes water and her body ache with hurt and missing. Wesley who she wasn’t even sure truly wanted her anymore--but what if he did? Suppose this was only one time, one terrible time when he went mad with impenetrable seclusion, and at the end of it all, when he was finally ready to come back, when he could hold her and comfort her and take her to Kent, to anywhere at all after what they’d been through--she wasn’t there? What if he was coming back to her side right now, weary with exhaustion, and rather than collapse in his arms as she had dreamed, she abandoned him? Penelope’s mouth trembled. “Maggie,” she whispered, reaching for the woman’s hand and squeezing it, “This is not the sort of discussion that is appropriate to be having in my office. My….Maggie my dear…” She faltered as her fingers brushed over Maggie’s hands. They were lovely hands indeed, and Maggie...God in heaven why had Maggie felt the need to make herself so terribly beautiful today? She bowed her head, trying to compose herself before she frightened Maggie away or cried. “Will you take a walk with me somewhere? Please…?”

Maggie heart jumped as Pen took her hand and squeezed it in the sign of solidarity and support they so often showed one another and she felt herself physically give an internal sign of relief at the fact Penelope had not pulled back from her confession, had not retreated and left her to sit there alone and vulnerable with her heart more visible to her than usual. Physical contact had still been permitted, was still offered and Maggie took it gratefully. She blinked furiously to prevent any tears that might be threatening and when she looked Pen in the eyes she had a smile on her face, a watery smile, a best-effort smile perhaps but a smile nonetheless. “Of course.”

Penelope's hand flew to Maggie’s cheek automatically as she saw her blinking away moisture. It was her habit to wipe away her tears, it was her designation to keep Maggie bright and shining and radiant. A designation she loved and treasured and guarded with such stupid ferocity. But she was not brave enough to complete her task now. The gesture was left as only a tender caress, limited and pointless. She bit her lip and allowed herself one more touch before rising and ushering Maggie out of the office. She lead them down the stairs, not the elevator. If she was still, if she had time to catch up with herself, something would happen. Maggie would hear her heart beating with terror, would catch note of her quivering breath, or worse, Penelope would have time to ponder this new ache filling her body. She would try to catch hold of it, to name it or make sense of it. It would be the end of everything. Her hand was still tight and protective around Maggie’s as they left the building. London was quiet at this hour. Nothing but low gray skies limp with moisture, leering pigeons, and the odd motor car sliding away down the street towards its destination. There was a park in Mayfair, near a hotel. She had thought to ask Wesley to meet her there, but then things had gone worse for them, and she’d become too afraid to try. As they walked, Penelope slipped her free arm abound Maggie’s shoulders, keeping her close to they could talk quietly. “How long have you known?” she asked.

Maggie was relieved that the question was actually a simple one, that she had a simple answer for. “Since speaking to Estela the other day. I mean....I thought about things and made sense of things properly, of course, but since...since then, really” Maggie sniffled a little and squinted off into the distance as they walked, more tears threatening as that heavy yet fluttering feeling pulled at the pit of her stomach. A feeling she hadn't had since Ben had courted her, since she had first realised her feelings for him. Oh God, what a dreadful comparison given the circumstances, but it was an apposite one nonetheless. “And I know it's completely I mean, it's not- I'm not /gay/ or....you're the sole exception to the rule. And I mean there's not any real point discussing it because you're not, you won't be interested,” No matter how desperately Maggie found herself wishing she would be, that she would reciprocate, she wished it more than she had consciously realised, but she forced her own feelings and wishes aside to better express her wishes she had for Pen, who really was the most important person in the situation. She was the one caught, she hadn't asked for this, for Maggie to complicate her life. “And even on the small chance you possibly, might- on the small chance you /were/, you're with and....” More tears to blink back. She decided to give up all pretence and pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket, the navy blue M embroidered on the corner, and dabbed at her eyes, “and I just want you to have whatever makes you happiest, no matter what that is. Even if it means I don't know, joing the cast of Chicago for their tour,” She joked feebly, trying to keep things light as more tears threatened. She dabbed and they were kept at bay by the cotton material, “God,” Maggie smiled with forced brightness, “God I'm talking too much.”

Penelope was glad that they had reached the park, because the only thing she wanted to do now that Maggie had finally finished talking was make her stop for a moment, hold her still and see good sense. Her own eyes were moist as she held Maggie by her shoulders and began wiping away her tears in earnest. She couldn’t hurt her, she couldn’t let her think that she was so horribly unwanted. This mad, pure, beautiful woman that loved her...how could she possibly think that her rejection would be so absolute? Won’t be interested, Maggie had said, small chance, small, small chance that she might--? “Oh, Maggie,” Penelope whispered. To try and imagine how much Maggie wished and hoped for reciprocation made her heart swell nearly to bursting. How cruel it all was, how terribly cruel and complicated that Maggie should wish so much and not know, and then in any acquisition of knowledge...gain nothing. She smoothed out her friend’s hair tenderly, giving her as much affection as she could manage while she tried to find her words and get back to sure footing after that horrifying confession. Never, Penelope thought, never had she heard anyone speak more selflessly about love. Never had she seen such complete sacrifice and care given to a cause that was so bewilderingly lost. Her finger brushed over Maggie’s lips and she shivered. She should be damned for feeling this way, for having fallen into something like this when she had promised, when she had set out to be honourable and good with the only man that had ever truly loved her, for having no proper answers, no sense of direction for what made or would make her happy. And the girls, Gen, Estela, Peyton, Dani, Rory, Freya, and all the rest of them, and her people...should happiness even come into it so closely? They were not put here to be happy, they were put here to help and do good. And Maggie, she lamented, savoring the feeling of Maggie’s mouth against her finger, was so very good, even if everything about this was all horribly wrong. “Maggie, my darling,” she whispered tearfully. “You must understand. You must try, and promise to understand…” She swallowed,trying to drag the words out of her throat, “I can’t...give in. I can’t abandon or desert...I’ve made a promise. And if I break that...Maggie, there may not be much good left in me if I start...I’ve already made compromises, and I don’t even know if they were right, I don’t know if I should have, and it’s unfair to you.” Her voice hardened as she spoke. She would be deliberate. She would be unquestionably sound. She would not be weak, she couldn’t be. Penelope flung her arms around Maggie and held her close. She whispered in her ear, “You must understand that this means that there is something to give into. Something for you. Something that could have been very beautiful if I wasn’t like this.” She leaned back and held the woman away for her. The pain and longing in her eyes was wet and palpable.

Maggie was unable to hold back her emotions as Pen held her, and the tears she had been trying to desperately to hold in, to keep at bay, came pouring down make her cheeks sticky and wet, her nose sniffling, and she gulped heavily trying to reign it in, the effort causing a sore pain at the back of her throat as she refused to let the choking sobs come through. “I know, I do,” She managed to speak through her desperate sobs, still holding onto Pen, “I'm not asking you to break- I would never ask you, never, no matter how much I might-- might want, I would never ask that. I wouldn't do that to you.” Her sobs were hindering her speech and she swallowed, trying to clear her throat, and calm down the heaving coming from her chest in bounds, “And I don't- I want the two of you to be so happy, so happy, I do, I really do. I want you to be happy, alright?” She couldn't bear to say that what Penelope had quietly admitted to, had gently handed her as something to be cherished and appreciated, something that while it could not save her from heartbreak, did save her from rejection or loss, she couldn't bear to say how much that reached and touched her for fear it would cause her to lose even more control of her emotions, “I'm so sorry I did this to you, but I just I had to- I had to tell you. I couldn't keep it secret.” She sniffled, desperately trying to stop crying as the two women continued to hold one another, “As long as you're happy, I'm happy, I do mean that, I really, really do.”

Penelope gasped as Maggie was back in her arms again. Her stomach turned as she tightened her grip and held back her own sobs by some miraculous force of will. Everything about this was wrong, from the ache in her heart to her longing, to her inability to truly comfort or assuage. She was the cry in Maggie’s throat, she was the tremor in her voice, the anguish in her eyes. She was hurting her so completely and yet Maggie insisted that they’d both be happy. You impossible, horrible, beautiful woman, Penelope thought. She kissed Maggie’s temple and rubbed her back, anything to make this a little less worse. “I would make you happier still, Maggie, if I could,” she said solemnly. But I can’t, or at least I won’t. God, she would have to tell Wesley, now, wouldn’t she? When he’d had his way and Angel was back, she would still be startling and disappointing him. What would he say? Was she leaving them all with nothing by doing this? The thought was too terrifying to comprehend just now. She put it away and set herself about wiping Maggie’s face with her handkerchief. She had never been more tender with her, nor more attentive. She worked in silence, the only chink in her stoicism the slight droop of her lip and the wet veil over her eyes, glimmering perfectly in place. “How would you like best to proceed?” she finally asked.

Maggie just about managed to hold the tears back, to reign in her crying to a gentle sobbing, an occasional hiccuping, something more controllable, she hoped more dignified but she suspected she just looked pathetic. For Penelope to say if the situation was different, she would reciprocate, if not for how everything had fallen in place, she would return her sentiments was something that both gave Maggie something to cling to and take comfort in, but at the same it only served to increase the pain, and to break her heart more. When she had come to speak to Pen, she had known she had loved her, but it was only through speaking through, through talking about it that Maggie came to really know the shocking and frightening depths of her own feelings. She could feel the pain in her heart she hadn't expected, a deep sickening pain she had only once before in her entire life. When she had come home obliviously to news Ben had been killed. Only then had she felt that same sickening pain that seemed to start at the very bottom of her stomach before it burned up through her heart and caught in her throat. Through her sadness and heartache, she was determined to make a point that she felt was important, and she felt there would be no other opportunity to say it, “Stay with Welsey if it's what you want, and no other reason, Pen. I don't mean 'oh so you can come, be with me' that's not it at all- I'm irrelevant- but stay with him because you want to be there, not because you feel obliged or because you won't go back or because you put him first or anything. Do it for you. Trust me. If you do it for you, that's how you two will be happy“ She sniffled and managed to wipe away the remainder of her tears, her breathing returning to normal. She looked at her friend as she thought on her question. How best to proceed? She wasn't even sure she had much of an answer, “I don't want to lose our friendship because of this,” She told her earnestly and almost pleadingly, “I don't want the closeness we have as friends to be sacrificed because all of this. I meant what I said earlier when I said I would always love you- and I mean that in any capacity. And I don't want to lose the friendship we have; I've never had a friend like you before.” She admitted with a shy shrug, and then she let out a little sad laugh as she remembered what she was going to speak about with Pen at home later on, before all this happened, “And I was going to ask you if you minded if I stayed permanently. How highly appropriate that would be.” Maggie commented sarcastically, sniffling again, but thankfully, no longer crying.

Penelope had to laugh along with Maggie, even if the sound sounded curiously close to a sob. “I’ll have to speak to Gen. About staying in the house, I mean. I suppose...it should have made things obvious to me sooner,” she laughed again, wiping deftly at her eyes, “but it isn’t quite home for me without you there, Maggie. Gen needs a say though. Things are difficult enough for her as it is, but if it’s possible for all of us to stay together...we shall.” She squeezed Maggie’s hands in hers as fiercely as she could so as to keep hers from trembling. It was almost frightening to see Maggie sacrifice herself like this, to willingly throw her own heart away...for her. Her happiness, the chance of her smile. Her great comforter and great giver of hope--it should have been obvious that she would be so smiling as she committed this great sacrifice. Penelope wanted to ask whether or not it would hurt, if being so close and yet so far might poison everything they’d had before. But she couldn’t bring herself to make the words. She feared Maggie might think that she was trying to dispose of her kindly, and she couldn’t have that, not for the world. “I’m not keen on losing you either. I….I find myself wondering if you’re the only reason I’ve made it through all this without ruining myself completley.” She bowed her head, blushing. “I haven’t become as selfish as all that, I wouldn’t try to keep you if you didn’t wish to be kept. But the feeling is mutual, my dear. We shan’t be separated. There’s no need for pleading.” She plucked a stray hair away from Maggie’s face and did her best to smile.

Maggie was so grateful for those words, for those reassurances that their friendship wouldn't fail this, would not falter at this hurdle. If she was honest, that was more important to her than anything. That was the thing that needed to last the most. She took Pen's hand and gave it a tight squeeze, “Thank you. I value you so much as a friend and I don't think I could survive losing that, I really don't” She was barely surviving this, and it was ironically only Pen's support as a friend that was getting her through it, that was helping her smile once more. “You know,” She said, in a brighter tone, still dimmed but closer to her usual sunny words, “There's a place down the road, just round the corner which sells old records. And there is one particular one that I used to have when I very little- it was a series of Christmas carols. Do you mind if we stop by on the way home and pick it up? I promise I won't get distracted by the chocolate shop next door to it” She held her hand in the symbol of Scout's Honour, “Promise.”

Maggie pulled out her phone as she and Penelope reached the large town house in the South London borough. She dialled Peyton's number again, but once more it went straight to voicemail. Where was she? They were supposed to be searching the two prime locations with her and Estela and yet neither of the Slayers were answering their mobiles. It was possible they were currently fighting a vampire of some sort and were temporarily unavailable for conversation, but something didn't sit right with Maggie, a tiny feeling niggled at the back of her mind, quietly telling her it wasn't as simple as that. However, they now had more important matters to contend with as she and Pen quietly opened the gate, inwardly wincing as the metal hinges groaned in protest, and clambered down to peer through the cellar window., trying to gauge through the darkness what exactly was in the room.

Penelope felt a feeling of dread creep through her bones as they neared the house in South London. Maggie was now her constant companion in combat, but this was the journey they had been waiting for. Only two names remained on the list, and if some lurid faustian bargain was in play, one of them was bound to be the place. She dialed Estela's number again, to no avail. The dead dial tone echoed in her ear and sent a shiver down her spine. She would be alright, Penelope told herself. She was with Peyton. They were good girls. They cared for each other. They would be alright. They were brilliant; they lived. Penelope took a deep breath and watched her breath unfurl in the cold. She shut her eyes for a moment and forced her worries back. Being distracted wouldn't serve Maggie at all. She leaned down close beside her friend, peering into the dark. "What can you see?" she whispered. "Is there any movement at least?"

Maggie shrugged her shoulders, and cupped her hands around her eyes to get a better look into the unrelenting darkness. “I don't know, there could- oh damn, I can't see a bloody thing” Maggie cursed, and not bothering to wait to see whether Pen had some secret talent of Night Vision, Maggie took off her cream leather gloves and tossed them carelessly to the ground, before using her bare fingers to tug under the frame of the cellar window. She felt a nail or two splinter under the pressure, but she was rewarded by the large window opening completely with such a sudden ease she nearly toppled over when met with the unexpected lack of resistance. Not giving Pen a chance to try and convince her otherwise, she slid through the window and jumped down into the unknown that waiting in the darkened room.

Penelope snatched up Maggie's gloves immediately. Did that damned woman want them to be found out? She bent her head down and tried to see her friend's shadow moving in the dark. "Maggie!' she hissed. '"Margaret, what on earth are you doing?" She looked behind her, checking to make sure DCI Galloway hadn't chosen the worst of all moments to shuffle into their lives, or worse, the owner of the home. Cursing Peyton and Estela's absence one last time, Penelope adjusted her weapons where they were concealed and climbed down after Maggie. Her feet hit the floor with a loud thud and the floor stung her bare hands as she fell. "Margaret!" she hissed again. "Where are you?"

Maggie grabbed Pen's shoulder and gave it gentled squeeze, “Don't worry,” She assured her as her eyes adjusted. She took a step forward but stumbled as her foot juttered against something weighty. “What on...” She scrambled around, her hands reaching out blindy in the dark, before her fingers grasped around a light switch that hung between the door and window, and flipped it on. Light flooded through, lighting up every detail of the room around them and Maggie almost threw up at the sight.

The remains of bodies were crudely piled on top of each other like mountains of rubbish. Loose limbs with shoes and bright blood-stained gloves on them dangled from the top and sat flat along the bottom. Red and golden curls could be seen through gore, crushed, flattened, and shineless. Penelope reached for Maggie and buried the woman’s head in her shoulder. Near a pile of discarded winter things was a ratty Manchester City shirt, soaked and stiff with red. Penelope felt her stomach retching but she bit on her tongue and held Maggie tighter. Behind them, along the window, two felt hands shut the glass back in place, and a pair of black button eyes glared. Unaware, Penelope hushed Maggie as gently as she could and smoothed her hair with trembling hands. Her own eyes remained horrified and unblinking.

Maggie 's hand flew to her mouth as she nearly let out of a cry of shock and horror as she looked around them. It was...words escaped her in her effort to describe such a disturbing tableau as the one laid out before them. Maggie's eyes took in the dozens of lifeless bodies around them, all of them varying in age, the majority of them partially eaten and bones scattered the floor. Her eyes fell on the sight of the blue City shirt, she recognised so well. As she saw it's cheeky-grinned owner was absent, and caught sight of the blood that soaked the material, Maggie knew in her heart that Finley was truly gone, that they were too late to save him, and she felt her legs buckle beneath her to the point, that if not for Penelope's arm around her, she would have collapsed to the floor. But then she saw movement amongst the lifeless floor, a shifting of a bloodied coat, the movement of a heavy body, as a little hand came out from the pile like a fish bobbing at the surface of the water. “Karla?” Maggie whispered, not quite daring to hope.

Penelope saw the little hand creeping out. Slowly, she lowered herself and Maggie to the ground, her finger soft on her friend's lips as a reminder to keep her voice lower. She slid away and reached out for the hand. It was warm, sticky, and soft. Penelope didn't have the heart to smile just yet, but she squeezed the little hand and unearthed its owner from the pile of clothes. She looked at Maggie with burgeoning hope. Was it her?

Maggie couldin't contain herself as she recognised Karla's green eyes- wide with a mixture of fear and hope as Penelope pulled her free- and the matted blonde hair, plait loose and flowers crumpled and in disarray. She let out an exclamation of excited relief, “Karla!” She pulled the little girl towards her into the tightest hug she could manage without suffocating the poor thing. She felt the girl cry into her coat, barely managing to say Maggie's name through her sobs. Maggie rocked back and forth and stroked her hair soothingly, hushing the cries as best as she could. God, what had she gone through? But grateful for small mercies, Maggie was just relieved she was alive. She looked over at Penelope, “I want to get her out of here, now, please.”

Penelope stepped away as Maggie rushed in to scoop up the child and hold her close. The little girl princess Maggie had spoken of, her Karla. Kaz with the golden plaited hair. The two sobbed out their reunion and as their haunting echo that filled and rang through the cellar, Penelope realized that no other sounds were coming. There was no breathing but her own. No crying save for Kaz and Maggie. No life, except for them. It hadn’t been for naught, but it was all, all too late. Her eyes stung at the thought, of telling Peyton that no, they didn’t find her brother alive at all, of telling Estela how right she had been to ask for the worst, to hold hope at arm’s reach and arm herself with the grimmest of facts. Her throat tightened as she thought of how empty the world would feel when the news came, how absolute the heartbreak would be. How had they not come sooner? How had they not known. But then she heard Maggie’s voice, imploring with childlike sincerity and she made herself smile. “We will,” she whispered. She knelt down and wiped both faces before urging Maggie and Karla closer together. “But we must be quiet. Can you do that my lovelies…?” Then the clang of wood and plastic against iron and stone was heard and Penelope pushed the two of them closer. “Maggie, take Kaz, don’t stop moving until you get to the house. I’ll be right behind you.”

Maggie was reluctant to agree to such an idea that included Penelope being out of her line of vision for even a second, but as Karla's cries became louder and more desperate, she realised she needed to put her first. Standing up, the little one's tiny legs wrapping as tightly around her waist as her arms were wrapped around her neck. “Alright,” She reluctantly agreed, managing to free a hand and take Penelope's in hers. She turned to go the way they came in, but found that was no longer an option, “Pen, the window; it's closed”

Penelope looked at the window. She would have heard it if a good wind had shut it. Surely she would have, she must have. She reached out and tested the glass with her hand. It held fast, stubborn from lack of use, no doubt. A shadow skittered across her vision. The piles of bodies began to shift and crumble. From out of the corners, button eyed monsters staggered forwards, their mouths sewn into sickening grimaces. "Maggie, cover Karla's eyes." She managed faintly. "Yours too. Just cover them. Do it, do it now!" She drew her dagger and scrambled back to the window. She hastily cut a jagged 'x' from corner to corner and threw the blade aside. She had no time for gloves or wrapping her scarf around her hand. With one hard strike she thrust her hand through the glass. She did her best to scrape away the shards with the arm of her coat, sending them flying in nearly every direction in a crystalline shower."Now it's open," she hissed through her teeth, "Go."

Maggie barely contained a shudder at the horrendous and unbearably sinister and unnerving sight as the horrific and twisted creatures appeared from the debris, all of them making their way towards them, moving with surprising and frightening speed. Maggie didn't need to be told to cover Kaz's eyes as she buried the child's head in her shoulders, keeping any more horrific sights from out of view, and quickly turned her whole body away so she would be protected from the window shards. However, Karla insistently craned her neck and tried to see around Maggie's hand so he could see what was going on and let out a loud, sharp scream as she saw a puppet reach them just as Penelope 'opened' the window, Her hands full with Karla, Maggie could do very little but kick out at the blasted thing, and let on an exclamation of pain as the thing clawed at her and pulled her legs out from under her and she fell to the floor, her back feeling the painful impact of the concrete floor. She managed to keep a hold of Karla however and was up in seconds, desperately heading in the direction of the window.

Penelope wasted no time in recovering her blade. Blood slithered down her fingers and stained the wrinkles on her knuckles. Her hand stung with pain as she gripped the hilt again, but she’d be damned before she let them be ended by a flock of felt abominations. She took the puppet that had pulled Maggie down by his leering black button eyes and threw him against the wall. Three were already clamoring to take his place, but with three quick thrusts, she had skewered their heads together and flung them off. But rather than be hindered or dazed, the small monsters were only all the more eager to rally themselves and gather again. Penelope shifted her body to shield Maggie and Karla as they tried to escape this time. Her hand was burning like fire, but there was no time to do anything more than clench her jaw and bear it. Her eyes shifted around the room desperately. They were in a cellar, damnit. Then she saw it, the metal wastebin and the petrol. Her hand flew to her pocket and a relieved breath fell out of her when she felt the lighter. You idiot woman, she thought to herself, how could you possibly have forgotten? Two puppets lunged for her, yanking her down so she fell to her knees. “Maggie, hurry, will you…?” she called as she tried to fling them off, too wary of leaving her and Kaz defenseless to move and fetch what she needed just yet.

Maggie was at the window in seconds, deftly avoiding another puppet before it could knock her to the ground again. She attempt to protect Karla from the horrific images but the small five-year-old seemed determined to see the fight play out before her and desperately peered over Maggie's shoulder to watch Pen. “Morbid child” She muttered to herself, as she hoisted herself onto the side near the window. There were still many shards around the window that could easily cut the little girl, so Maggie used herself as a barrier as she lifted Karla up into the moonlight, wincing as she felt a stray shard of glass bury into her left leg. She didn't pull herself fully through the window as she watched her friend fearfully, “Pen, come on, now,” She insisted forcefully.

Penelope staggered to her feet, fumbling quickly for the lighter as she made her way to the bin. It was obvious now, and the monstrous dolls were banding together to pull her back down again. Penelope groaned in pain and sliced at them with her blade wildly. “Maggie, just go!” she huffed. At long last she reached the bin and the petrol. With a swift dispatch with her blade, she had the beasts skewered again,struggling up and down the shaft of her blade. Glaring at them ruefully, Penelope lit a flame and dumped it in before reaching for the petrol to finish the job. She would have given anything to have lingered there and watched their soft flesh burn well and proper. But Maggie’s voice echoed in her head, pleading and desperate, pulling her away. In a few quick movements she pulled her blade free of all but one puppet and doused the inside of bin with a heavy splash petrol. Angry flames erupted, licking the sides and lapping up the air, flickering and winking at her as she backed away.She flung the straggler against the nearest wall and crushed his head underfoot. Climbing out the window was easy compared to looking at the remains of the lost children. Shards of glass stung her legs and fingers, but it was nothing, nothing that could compare.

***

Maggie sat there on the sofa, enjoying the warmth of home comforts, as the pain from the hole in her leg caused by the glass shard throbbed; she ignored it, just as she had ignored the comical limp it had temporarily given her. She absent-mindedly stroked Karla's hair as they set together in a tired reverie. Maggie looked over at Pen with a wry smile, “Arsonist” She joked, and as though prompted by the word, Karla silently clambered over to Pen's side of the couch and began, without waiting for permission, to twirl Penelope's hair between her fingers, making it into tiny plaits. It was the first acknowledgement of Pen's presence she had given since she had arrived home, beyond a small 'thank you' when she had been handed some cake.

Penelope ’s thoughts swam in a numb, hazy stupor. When she wasn’t imagining the cry of the boy they hadn’t saved, she could hear the cry of the woman in the house, her angry shriek as she burst into the cellar and saw her little toys burning, no doubt heard the assailants running, disappearing out of her reach. And when it was not this half remembered roar, it was the sight of those half devoured bodies, the puppets burning, and the clamour of her people answering her call, rushing to finish the job while she and Maggie sped away to a safer and safer distance. She squinted at the air, trying to untangle herself and find some reassurance in the ‘all clear’s that flashed on her mobile. They had saved one girl. One child. One girl in all the world, as the story went. The feeling of little hands combing through her hair brought Penelope out of herself, and she turned to see the still wide-eyed Kaz plaiting her hair. “Hello, sweetheart,” she whispered gently, doing her best to smile. As she observed the girl, she looked over to Maggie, who seemed marvelously much more recovered and gave her a questioning expression.

Maggie managed a small smile, “You were very good, setting fire to buildings and such,” She said it laughingly, but the sentiment behind the statement was true. If it hadn't been for Penelope, it was quite possible she and Karla would not have escaped, “Thank you. I do love you, you know” She watched Karla plait Pen's hair with amusement, “You certainly liked seeing it, didn't you sweetheart?” The little girl nodded shyly, her eyes focused on Pen's hair, and Maggie smiled sadly. The little one was such a chatterbox normally and it was heart-wrenching to see her so shy and quiet. Maggie checked her phone again; still nothing from Peyton. Where on earth was that girl? Had she gotten Penelope's message about her brother? Was she now drowning her sorrows somewhere? “Are you a princess?” The question startled Maggie and she briefly thought it was aimed at her before she turned to see Karla looking at Pen with intense curiosity, hair plaiting temporarily forgotten. Despite the tragedy of the night, Maggie found herself laughing, as she left it entirely up to Pen to answer the question.

Penelope started, stunned into silence by the question for a moment. Karla asked with such innocent intensity and fanciful hope that Penelope did not know what answer was the most appropriate. In the hours after rescuing her, Maggie had done all she could to keep the little girl distracted and safe, but she was so deathly quiet, it would not have surprised Penelope if her friend was merely going along with any old idea that popped into her mind and ran along with it on blind faith. But now Karla was talking, to her. Gingerly, Penelope slipped an arm around the girl and smiled a little brighter for her benefit. “Not exactly, sweetheart,” she began, “but I am what is called a Lady. My parents were nobility: my father was Lord Henry, and my mother was Lady Evelyn. Which made me, Lady Penelope. We lived in a great house, not entirely unlike a castle. I was taught to curtsey, like a princess does, and to plait my hair like a princess does...and to be patient, and brave.” Emboldened by her words, Penelope stroked the girl’s hair lightly and leaned back against the couch to look at her better. She was talking herself into distraction, and at every moment, she prayed for Maggie to step in and keep her from wandering off too far. “You know, I think the last bits are really the only things that matter much. Which means, lovely Kaz, that if I’m anything like a princess, then you most certainly are.”

Maggie watched curiously as Pen decided on how best to answer Karla's rather bizarre question. Maggie had no idea how she had come to the conclusion Penelope must be a princess; last time Maggie had checked princesses generally didn't go around skewering dummies and setting fire to buildings. Maybe the films had changed since last she watched again. She smiled as she watched Pen fall quickly into what appeared to be a sort of ease with the girl, comfortable and gentle, pulling Karla closer to her in an embrace. As Penelope spoke about her family, and tried to make as many Princess comparisons as possible for Karla's sake Maggie saw the haunted look briefly leave her expression. It was the magic children seemed to have. It was only the presence of Karla that prevented Maggie from dwelling too long on all those they hadn't saved, on all those bodies, all those parents suffering such a great loss...it was only Karla's innocence, which despite what she had been through, had managed to remain intact, that saved her. She had whispered to Maggie earlier on how her brother had ordered she stay hid and it had taken all the strength Maggie had in her not to burst into tears at the thought of little Finley, bravely trying to hide his sister, while he himself was....blinking away tears, she focused on Karla and Penelope with a warm smile, “Most right,” She agreed with Pen's conclusion, reaching across to stroke Kaz's hair, and neatening the t-shirt they had dressed her in for the night. An oversized one of Maggie's to wear until more clothes could be retrieved for her in the morning. The thing was practically drowning her. “My brave, brave girl.” She made eye contact with Pen and mouth a silent 'thank you', followed by a slight expression of pleased surprise as Karla began to fall asleep on Pen's arm. Good. If she was sleeping, that meant she would be alright. Maybe not right away, maybe not for a while, and no doubt the loss of her brother would always haunt her, but..if she could sleep, and with apparent ease, than that meant that there was certainly hope for her. Maggie thought on the conversation she was going to have to have with Mandy in the morning. She should call her now, really, but she wasn't quite ready yet. She needed sleep herself before she could be prepared for that. “Seems you're the chosen one,” Maggie joked, nodding at the sleeping child.

Penelope looked down at the child, at once terrified and touched by her presence. "I hardly think so," she whispered, stroking the girl's hair. "You'll keep her with you in your room tonight?" Penelope reached to scoop the girl up, but realized all to quickly that she didn't have the first idea how and nodded to Maggie to do it instead. "It's been a long night for all of us."

Maggie nodded, “Yes...though at this rate, don't be surprised if she finds her way to yours” Maggie smiled, as she got up from her seat, and with the ease of practice picked Karla up without waking her, holding her gently in her arms, and the girl sighed softly- her mind clearly filled with dreams instead of nightmares, “It /has/ been a long night,” Maggie agreed, “But I think...I think,” There were the tears threatening again; she blinked them away furiously, “I think despite everything, I think it can be considered...a good, well maybe not /good/, but a worthy night,” She concluded, as she kissed the sleeping Karla on the head, “If we managed to save at least one child. And we were able to stop them from taking more” She reached out for Pen's hand, “Couldn't have done it without you”

Maggie felt as though she had been lost in a gathering pit of quicksand compiled entirely of useless books. First she had been in her office, then in the Council library, then she had picked up some books from her house, before heading home...only to end up in Pen's library as well. Text swam before her eyes, forming new sentences, nonsensical ones. She had fallen asleep periodically throughout the day, but each sleep whilst it had rejuvenated her body, it had left her mind fraught with only more nightmarish images of what possibly could be happening to Karla and Finley at this moment. Each thought worse than the last. Fingering a page of a book absent-mindedly, Maggie subconsciously began to hum the tune from the Rapunzel film, the one Karla constantly sang and insisted Maggie always sang the incorrect lyrics. The song brought little comfort, beyond a pleasant image of the little girl in her mind, rather than the horrific scenes that had begun to plague her constantly since their disappearance.

Penelope ‘s heart throbbed and burned under the weight of Maggie’s words. ‘I want it to be something human, Pen.’ Something human, normal, with natural and easy to explain meanings, or at least easier than century old demons. The family hadn’t asked for this, no one who fell upon misfortunes like this ever did, human or not, but God save them, to have a daughter swallowed into an unconquerable and unknowable darkness, forever nameless and featureless… Penelope bowed her head as she came to the library door. God be with those children, she prayed. God bless and keep them safe, for all that was good in this world, keep them safe. She exhaled, composing her features. Maggie’s messages had been soaked in distress. She would not comfort her friend while her own signs of exhaustion and worry were so easily seen. Penelope knocked on the door gently and pushed it forwards. Maggie was drowning in books, falling more and more adrift among the piles. “Maggie, darling,” she whispered. She came to her as quickly as she could without causing any alarm. Her poor friend’s eyes sagged with weariness, and her face, so often bright and brilliant, was dim and careworn. Penelope wrapped an arm around her and smoothed away her unkempt hair with her freehand. “Have you been at this all day, darling?” she asked softly.

Maggie shrugged, turning to glance at the pile around her, some books had been tossed side dismissively as they had been dubbed useless. Others had been noted and put aside for a re-read later. "Perhaps. I just...I have to to find something" With a gentle nudge of her hand, she shout the book she had been studying. "Big fat lot of help it's been"

Penelope took Maggie’s hand into her own and brought it close, tugging the woman out of her seat. “Come this way,” she soothed. She rubbed gentle circles at the nape of Maggie’s neck and along her shoulders, determined to to anything it took to lure her out of her seat. “Sit by the window with me for a little while, will you do that, my sweet?” She craned her head down to smile at Maggie. She hoped that if it was not convincing, the effort behind it would at least be appreciated.

Maggie let herself be pulled from her seat, secretly glad to the leave the intermingling pieces of text behind even if only for a moment. “Ah, no, I'm ticklish,” Maggie found her body betraying her mind as she giggled at the sensation of the circular motions along her shoulders and neck, “Really ticklish,” She reiterated as she sat down again at the window with her friend, and her body gave an involuntary shiver like a ruffled chicken, at the tingling sensation the tickling had caused.

Penelope chuckled along with Maggie and stopped. "Well that's one way to cheer you up," she teased, pressing her lips to Maggie's temple. "Entirely unintended," she added with a grin, "I promise with absolute sincerity." Her hand slid down to entwine itself within Maggie's. "Have you been sleeping properly?"

Maggie sighed, “Sleeping, yes.” she told her, which was true. Nodding off in libraries today had been exhaustion rather than an actual replacement for true, beneficial sleep, but under such stressful circumstances no amount of napping could make you feel fully rested, “Sleeping's fine. It's the nightmares that follow waking up that are the problem”

Penelope furrowed her brow. She turned Maggie's face towards hers with great care and gentleness. "Nightmares?" she asked softly. "Maggie, what sort of nightmares?"

Maggie shrugged again “What you would expect really” She tucked her legs into and held herself like a small child, “What if we don't....” don't find them on time, she thought, with a fearful tug at her heart, but Maggie found she couldn't avoid the looks loudly and openly. “Are we searching again?”

Penelope knew the value and kindness of distraction, of ignoring the obvious distress and instead pretending, just for one sweet moment, that they were all stronger and braver and happier than they felt. But she found, most curiously, that she could not do so with Maggie at that moment and feel at ease with herself. She slipped away from her position behind Maggie and knelt on the floor. She pressed her hands over Maggie's an looked into her eyes with sober honesty. "We are. And Maggie..." The list of promises on Penelope Fairfax's heart that she could not swear was a long and heavy one. She searched her friend's face for some clue, anything to point her in the way of the right promise, the right comfort she needed. Penelope frowned sadly as her mind echoed the silence back to her, but she squeezed Maggie's hands and pressed on none the less. "Maggie I swear to you that I will do everything I can. I shan't stop till we have some kind of answer, some end to this." She gave a small smile and asked, much softer, "When would you like to leave?"

Maggie looked at Penelope, as she knelt there on the floor, with an almost childlike desperation to be taken sincerely and to have her words taken in the context they were intended. If possible, in that moment, Maggie found she loved her even more, and she gave the woman an understanding smile, squeezing her hand tightly in return, “I know you will Pen,” She agreed, but she also heard the implication in her words; yes they would come to a conclusion, but also that conclusion had a possibly unhappy ending. One in which the children didn't come running over smiling and laughing. Blinking back tears and the thoughts that went with them, she smiled again at her friend, a bittersweet one, but a smile nonetheless, “I would like to go now...actually.. If you're ready”

Penelope smiled and gave her friend a quick kiss on the cheek. "Three minutes, dear. Meet me downstairs?" Her fingers wiped deftly at the sides of Maggie's eyes, just in case a single tear had dared to fall.

Maggie allowed her head to tilt a little, leaning briefly into the hand that with pre-emptive deftness prevented any tears from having the chance to fall. The floodgates threatening were successfully locked much to Maggie's relief. “Three minutes”

Penelope had decided that the tunnels would be as good a place as any to start. She dared not say it to Maggie, but as they wandered into stranger and stranger hovels, she found herself nearly wishing that they would come across the other faces they were looking for as well. Angelus, Tre, even Drusila with her half-mad ramblings and her leering Sight. Something they could get their hands on. Tangible, useful, and solvable. When you drove a stake into a vampire’s heart, you knew you were avenging those they’d killed before and saving everyone they would never kill now. When you crawled into bed at daybreak, reeking, weary, and empty handed, you felt like a damned fool. Penelope walked in front of Maggie, never too far to where she couldn’t reach back and take her hand if need be, but far enough to dwell in her thoughts unnoticed, at least so she hoped. In the heavy, fog-laden night, the only sound under the earth were their footsteps trailing after each other, the moan of faraway cars, the whine of their breath in the cold. Penelope turned the corner,the tunnel split off in two and just beside them, a way out with a little more fresh air. She turned to Maggie, “Where would you have us go next?”

Maggie disliked the tunnels. You always arrived home with a particular smell soaked into your clothes that didn't wash out for weeks. A sort of damp, sodden smell that hinted at mould and dirt. As she kept an eye out for anything and everything, she saw a rat, the size of a small kitten, scurrying by and she quickly hopped out of the rodent's way; she was not having another shot due to an animal bite. She hurried forward a little to catch up to where Pen introduced three options: left, right or out. Out to fresh air was incredibly tempting but they hadn't been down there very long, so Maggie, with a decisive bite of the lip, placed a hand on Pen's shoulder as she chose “Left. With no logic behind that decision beyond the fact I am left handed” she explained. Would they find the children there? Probably not. Would they find something along their way? Possibly. Hopefully.

Penelope chuckled softly at Maggie’s explanation. She reached back to pat the woman’s hand and lead the way where Maggie had directed her. The light was better there, it had to be admitted, but it made Penelope begin to wonder if that would make creatures more or less likely to set down their poisonous roots and cultivate their mayhem.They hadn’t been traveling down the path for five minutes when Penelope suddenly heard another set of footsteps behind, just out of sync with hers and Maggie’s. She tightened her grip on her sword and reached back for Maggie’s hand.

Maggie heard the footsteps milliseconds before Pen, and she let her hand flutter reassuringly over the collection of arrows before taking the hand Pen offered, and standing close to her, in a gesture to allow her to better protect Pen as well as allow Pen to protect her. A few moments later the owners of the footsteps came into view, their muffled conversation increasing in volume with every step. Vampires. Just vampires. Three of them. One of them bore remarkable likeness a comedian Maggie was fond of and she made a mental note to check the comic was still alive and well.

Penelope pulled Maggie close beside her. With her free hand, she adjusted her hold on her sword, reathy to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice. She slowed their pace and watched for the vampires’ next moveme. Through the fog and the dark, she could see their bright eyes leering at the world, the dead heartlessness behind them, the hunger. One of them glared her way and smiled. He nudged to his fellows and whispered something Penelope could not hear, licking his lips. Think we’ve made your night, do you? She thought, still walking. She set her jaw and felt for her stake. A clean decapitation was just too good a death for some monsters. “Maggie,” she whispered calmly, “I need you to walk ahead of me. You’ll do better work with your arrows from a distance.” And you won’t be one they try to hurt first, she added silently. She nodded for her friend to hurry. Their new traveling companions were beginning to look even more pleased with themselves than before.

Maggie was reluctant to leave Pen's side, as she kept a wary eye on the approaching three, but she couldn't deny she had a point. It was perhaps only a short bow she had brought, allowing for closer range if desired, but it still wouldn't do any good in such close proximity. She gave Pen's hand a short, squeeze of support accompanied by a smile of understanding, before she casually walked a little ahead as though it were nothing but a daytime walk she had casually chosen to take upon. She wasted no time in already setting up her first arrow, though she kept the bow low and at her side, ready to go at a second's notice, as she watched the scenario beginning to play out before her with a very keen eye, her primary focus being that of Pen, as Maggie resisted the desire to be directly beside her in the fight. An emotionally understanding motivation perhaps, but to act upon it would do neither of them any good.

Penelope could breathe a sigh of relief now. Maggie’s departure from her side with the sort of weapon she carried was simply good sense. Had it been Wesley beside her, he would have already situated himself on better ground with a nod of confidence or affection. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself, straightening up. It was Maggie. For Maggie, she worried. For Maggie, she feared and protected and shielded. Perhaps it had been a horrific moment of hyperbolic candid weakness when she told Gertie Bramwell that Maggie was like her sun, the light of her life, but it could not be denied that the woman was the spark of light among the lot of them. Reigned, downtrodden, broken, darkened fools. They had taken their black for the cause under their own reasons and banners, but Maggie still glowed. Penelope drew her sword and turned to the vampires, smiling. Her teeth glinted just as devilishly as theirs. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she demured. “Enjoying the air, are we?” They snarled and began to charge.

Maggie watched as Pen prepared herself to take on the vampires, and she silently wished the woman didn't have such a default setting of bravado, or rather perhaps a more apposite term would be self-sacrificing determination. As the vampires behind their 'attack' if walking forward in an overly-cocky manner could be considered such a thing, Maggie readied her bow and as always felt that tie to her Dad that very little else could achieve. It was he who had bought her the first tiny bow, he who had insisted on the competitions, he was the reason she become the Junior Champion all those years ago and therefore he was the very reason she was stood here now. One of the three vampires decided Penelope was already easily taken care of and brazenly pushed past the woman and her assailants with his determined direction on Maggie. She had seen his intent even before he had directly headed her way, and so confident in her own ability she didn't even blink or falter as she released the arrow. It hit the heart neatly and cleanly and seconds later Maggie was coughing slightly from accidentally inhaling death dust. “I don't miss,” Maggie mumbled to herself in self-affirmation, as the frustration of her failed staking of Josephine came back to annoy her again, before she as able to return her attention back to Pen.

Penelope was as poised as ever. There was one just nearly as tall as she was and she knew with a heavy enough hand, she could dispose of him in no time at all. She swung her sword in preparation, sending the smaller one scuttling back a few paces. How quaint, she thought. The tall one lunged for her, his dead hands reaching for her throat, But Penelope kicked him back hard enough to to give him pause. One moment still was all she needed. Her Father’s sword came singing through the air, bursting through his neck and smiling its silver smile as it came out on the other side in a shower of dust. Penelope felt her heart warm, perhaps unwisely so, but in this, in her work in the trenches and the tunnels and the fields, she could believe that there was a chance her Father was proud. Invigorated, she flew at the other assailant, but he had been watching and with a sickening laugh, he used her weight to throw her back against the wall. Spots danced around Penelope’s vision as she tried to slide back up to her feet. Her sword was still in hand. She clutched it tight and swung around her, gritting her teeth when she heard it cut fabric.He was /there/….somewhere. A wet slicing sound slithered through the air and crawled up Penelope’s spine like a sickness. She felt the weight on her sword shift. He was holding it, teasing his invulnerability. Bastard. Penelope kicked him off her blade, panting, and let the steel clatter to the floor while she pulled out a stake. She was on him in moments, pummeling him with her fist and elbowing him back, dancing back several paces and charging forwards again, praying all the while the drumming throb in her head would cease and she could finish him soon.

Maggie saw Pen take care of the first vampire with as much relative ease as Maggie had herself but the third, seemingly too stupid to take stock of fact both his 'friends' were now nothing more but a smattering of dust matted into the ground beneath their feat, was not or giving up. Before Maggie had a chance to take in the situation he had run at Pen, and to Maggie's surprise managed to gain the upper hand on the woman. “Christ,” Maggie cursed, as the knot of fear built up inside her as she rushed over just as Penelope began her own assault on the vampire, to the point Maggie was actually a little concerned Pen's fists were going to feel the pain later of having held up the brunt of the work. If not for the fact the two were hitting back and forth, Maggie would have loaded an arrow and aimed, but there was too high a risk that there would be a sudden unexpected shift of movement and Pen would be in the firing line. Instead, Maggie took a quick stock of the situation with the rapidity she had been trained in her archery lessons and competitions over the years. On particularly difficult ranges and shots one had to be able to take in every outside factor to ensure you hit the bullseye. Watching the footwork of both the vampire and Penelope and seeing their constant stance, Maggie saw the sight for a trick shot, that while not quite up to Odysseusian standards, was certainly impressive enough in her books if it did the job. Quickly loaded one arrow against the string and holding a secondary arrow between her teeth, she aimed directly at the vampire's lower right leg. It hit directly where she wished and in surprise and at least some acknowledgement of pain he bent ever so slightly to look at the cause. That was all that was required as Maggie, with the second arrow, aimed at the rope holding up one of the many ancient and disused and disconnected pipes and fired. Praying Pen would not move her bloody hand, Maggie watched as the pipe dropped, knocking the vampire at his bowed neck. It was only a little stumble, but he was in such close proximity to her friend, his heart found the stake with very little further effort. “Thank god you didn't bloody move,” Maggie laughed as she watched the dust fall on Pen, coating her hand a little.

Penelope stared at Maggie in silent amazement. "Thank God you don't miss," she shot back, smiling.

Maggie nodded with a grin, “There's that also, yes.” She agreed as she walked over to Penelope, wrapping her arm around her and giving her a kiss on the cheek in relief. It took a moment for Maggie to realise that her current worries over Karla and Fin had pushed away- the fight had provided a distraction and the adrenaline of success gave her a boost of positivity that convinced her they would find them. She glanced over at Pen's sword on the ground, “Cheeky bastard,” She said, thinking on the vampire's obnoxious attitude, but then again weren't they all?

Penelope picked up her Father's sword and dusted it off, examining it for any grievous damage. Satisfied, she put it away and took up Maggie's hand instead. "Ghastly manners," she agreed with a chuckle. Her heart was still pounding in her ears wildly, but in every other capacity she felt calm and assured. They had done something tonight. Perhaps not what they'd wanted, but a little good was better than no good at all. As they continued on, Penelope said, "You know, dear, now that you've shown off like that, I simply must learn how to use your weapon of choice."

Maggie turned to Pen with an eager eye at those words, “Do you mean that?”

Penelope sighed, looking away. She had hoped to keep this all under a veil of warm casualness, but Maggie had turned into an eager child at Christmastime in moments, and putting her off now seemed unbearably unkind. Penelope squeezed their joined hands. Maggie was still the one she fretted over, but being only an incidental prop in her own vampire kill had been unsettling. There was, she could no longer fail to admit, something to Maggie's insistence that she have more ways to defend herself, more ways to fight and do right, live to the next day. "Yes," she said. "Oddly enough, I do."

Maggie couldn't help wondering why she considering such a thing 'odd'. Alright, admittedly Pen had been very reluctant to accept Maggie's offer of archery lessons, until now. But for the same reason Maggie had asked Pen to teach her sword work, Maggie wished to teach Pen how to work with arrows. Sometimes one weapon just didn't cut it, sometimes the sword was out of your hands, or the string broken on the bow...they had to allow for every eventuality. Maggie smiled warmly at Pen, mild relief in the back of her mind at Pen's sudden willingness, “Brilliant,” She told her, “Well, I'm ready to start whenever you are?”

Penelope side eyed Maggie, smiling. "Tomorrow." When they'd finished sweeping the tunnels, when they'd vainly tried to rest, when she'd met another person or gone through another book to find another dead end. Only then. "Just now," she said, peering through all the ground ahead of them, "We have this night to finish still."

Maggie smiled in happy agreement, leaning in to affectionately rest her cheek on Pen's shoulder briefly, before standing upright again, “Tomorrow,” She repeated as they continued along their way, “And I wasn't showing off”

Maggie absentmindedly scratched behind Copper's ears as she read through her old notes. His head was resting on her knees and took up her entire lap, but she found the warmth as comforting as his gentle breathing. As she flipped through the pages and pages of notes, of the endless sentences of her old thesis, she marvelled at how much detail she had put into her Angelus research when she was a student. It was perhaps not new information she was reading, but refreshing her mind of his inclinations and tendencies could only serve to help them keep one step ahead of his malicious game. Her mind however, was not quite on the topic at hand; it kept wandering off to the subject of her sister. Why on earth had Gertie written to Pen? As far as Maggie knew the two had spoken a single syllable or even set eyes on one another in their lives. But suddenly they were pen pals? And why did Pen wish to discuss it? Had Gertie unintentionally said something so atrocious Penelope felt it had to be covered? That did sound like something Gertie would do after all.

Penelope trudged into the house, her head too weary to be held high for just Maggie. Gertie's letter had been more distressing than the woman had perhaps intended, but she had been truthful and honest. That meant a geat deal and it was far more preferable than some lie designed to keep her from worrying more. Penelope had seldom seen the point in such enterprises where her mind was concerned. The problem would still be there whether she worried or not, and the time spent in ignorance was time wasted. She set her bag down on the counter and mad her way to where Maggie was sitting. Poppy, that horridly vocal creature, was yapping upstairs at her return. God help her sanity, Penelope prayed. She came around the side of the couch and put her hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Room for one more?" she murmured.

Maggie had been so deep in her own reverie that the hand on her shoulder made her jump slightly. “God, didn't even hear you come in,” She said, laughing at her own jumpiness, “Of course; there's always room” She gathered the mass array of decades old notes in hands removing them from couch and put them on the side table. A few sheets missed the target and drifted to the floor. A sharp snapping click of Maggie's fingers and Copper was off out of the way and happily curled up in the middle of the floor, one eye still on his owner, just in case anything should happen while he was not immediately by her side. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk about? Gertie has so much ammo on me my mind has been flitting through a hundred and one things”

Penelope sat down beside her friend, eyeing Cooper almost fondly. He was horrifyingly large, but he kept by Maggie's side nobly. If any harm tried to come to her, it would find the dog first. It was doubtful that Angelus or any other demon would be heavily encumbered, but it would buy time or give alarm. Penelope had to hold some affection for the dog for that. As she settled down, Penelope eased her arm across Maggie's shoulders, bringing herself close. She didn't know what she was sorry about more, the fact that she still didn't want Maggie swinging swords at sadistic vampires, the fact that she hated Poppy's fussiness and yapping, or that in spite of being the cause of so much unhappiness for Maggie, she still didn't see her actions as wrongly as she probably should. What a woman she must be, to want her friend's happiness, and then to willingly stand in the way of it? "It's not anything /you've/ done, my dear." she said softly. "It's what you haven't told me. How unhappy you are because of me." She looked down at Maggie's lap.

Maggie 's eyes widened in surprise at Penelope's words. “I'm not-” She sighed as she realised this could have only come from whatever Gertie had taken it upon herself to say in that letter. She had no doubt her sister was well-intentioned, but she didn't know Pen. The woman seemed prone to jump to the worst conclusions in any situation, “What did Gertie say in the letter?”

Penelope chuckled. "That you were unhappy. Far more than you let on." She sighed and let her head rest against the cushions, near the crook of Maggie's neck. "That you've only done these things because of me, and you don't want to at all." She wet her lips and sighed again, her body seeming to whither and deflate. "Maggie, tell me the truth..." she whispered.

Maggie felt her chest tighten at the words. She had confessed her feelings to Gertie with the liberation of speaking to one outside the circle it effected. Gertie was her sister and could understand anything she told her, but she was not part of the Council or Maggie's working world and so confessions could be spoken without fear of them tracing back. However, it seemed her sister had beaten her at her own game and quite literally gone over her head. “I'm not /unhappy/,” Maggie told her, “I....” She sighed, this was harder to express than she would have actually thought, “It's not as simple as that, Pen. I- it's not in me to stay in and to not help when people I love are putting their own lives at risk, I've never done that in my life, and to do so now /frustrates/ me but that doesn't make me unhappy...what makes me unhappy is feeling as if.....as if...I'm not /part/ of it. As though things are being done and spoken about, not just without me, but actively being /kept/ from me. I feel like everyone thinks I'm....some doddery old incapable woman. Even Spike's at it,” She added, laughing at the thought of a former horrendously renowned vampire trying to keep her safe and out of Angelus' reach, “I am doing it for you, yes, but I don't begrudge it you. I know you....I know you do it because you care. I'm not unhappy about /that/. /You're/ not making me unhappy”

Penelope propped her head on her elbow, straightening up. "Would you believe me if I said that nothing about the situation was being kept from you? That you know everything there is about this business?" Her tired smile frayed along the edges. "Tom can't close his case without Tuppence to help somehow, now can he?"

Maggie smiled back, a sympathetic smile, an indulgent smile. “I don't know. Seems like Tommy's getting along just fine” The moment she said the self-pitying words she regretted them, “Sorry. That was mean. And untrue”

Penelope withdrew from Maggie's side and folded her arms around herself. She cleared her throat, "No. It's fine." It wasn't, far from it. "You know it's not because we think you're doddery. Char saw you slay that vampire you're so proud of. Can't doubt you much after that."

Maggie now just felt worse. She couldn't have kept those words to herself; there Pen went retreating into herself, and maybe it was the overly emotionally charged atmosphere of the past few days but it made her want to cry. “Pen, I really didn't mean it, I didn't. I'm being self-pitying. ” She reiterated, sniffling to hold back her pathetic desire to cry, but it became harder to do so as she realised part of the reason she had been feeling so at odds was the feeling Penelope had been cutting her off. She knew she wasn't like herself in that she didn't wear her emotions so openly or speak her thoughts so freely, but the past few days had made Maggie feel as if she had lost someone she had been close to, with the added fear she was going to lose them in a truer sense every single night, “I....feel lonely Pen”

Penelope turned her head to meet Maggie's eyes sadly. Her mouth trembled as she saw her friend crumbling before her, sniffling and tearing up so pitifully. Slowly, Penelope eased her hand away from her body and held it out to Maggie, silently asking to be brought back close again. "Oh, Maggie..." she whispered.

Maggie immediately took the hand that was offered, and attempted to offer her trademark grin along with it. “It's silly I know. But I do.....I used to, there used to be so many people and, God, it's ironic, that the one person who used to be inundated with company should be the one to end up with none in the end,” She threw Pen a grin, “I believe that's what they call Sod's Law isn't it?” She sighed, “It's so stupid, but there are times when I see nothing but loneliness and it frightens me. I talk to you too much and drive you round the bend- no, I do, I know I do- because you stop me feeling lonely. And feeling cut off from it all......it makes me...” She didn't feel the need to finish the sentence.

Penelope squeezed Maggie's hand and pulled the woman towards her. "Come here, you," she whispered. She tried to reach around and hold Maggie properly, run her hands over her hair and keep her securely the way she often found herself wishing someone might do for her at night. "Don't, Maggie, ssh." she soothed. "I don't mean to, darling, shh..."

Maggie felt silly being soothed for something she felt deep down she had no reason to be upset about in the first place. But it just seemed the moment Angelus had returned, the family she had been creating, the world in which she had become so surprisingly happy- for it certainly was not something she would have predicted for herself a year ago- seemed to have drifted apart and was slowly falling to pieces. And Maggie didn't want Angelus to have that power; it was bad enough he was a threat to them all on a physical level, but to allow him that psychological power as well? It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. She hugged Penelope back, partly to reassure her friend and partly to reassure herself. “I'm sorry about all this...and Gertie shouldn't have; you've got enough on your plate with Angela without a multitude of other things to contend with”

Penelope rested her head against Maggie's shoulder and tightened her grip. Her own eyes were beginning to sting, but two weeping women were even more useless than one. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe easily, grimacing at the small shudders that escaped her. But then Maggie said something too absurd for her to ignore, and she had to lift her face to her friend's, making a sound lodged between a laugh and a sob. "Angela? Did you really just call him /Angela/?"

Maggie hadn't realised she had let the name slip out again. Charlotte was right; it was frighteningly easy to get into a habit of substituting it for Angelus. “Oh, yes,” A laugh breaking through her words as she instinctively pushed Pen's now rather mussed hair out of her friend's face, in an attempt to affectionately return it to it's former neatness, “Gertie again I'm afraid. She keeps thinking his name is Angela. I tell her absolutely horrifying stories and she thinks his name is /Angela/. I haven't bothered to correct her anymore and I've gotten into a habit of using it myself. As has Charlotte. And Spike. It's getting rather popular actually. Spike wants to call him 'Angie'”

Penelope began to laugh through her tears even more freely than before. "Beware the Angie, my son," she mocked. "The jaws that bite and the teeth that catch! /Angie/ will come for us all. Hide the dogs!" She wiped at her nose, suddenly feeling absurd and foolish. Not matter what they called him, he was still coming for them all. And if he knew how much his existence was tearing them apart and whittling them down to pieces, he would be positively gleeful. "You must thank Gertie for that laugh, my dear," she said, quieting.

Maggie joined in with the laughter, hers as always carrying louder than those around her, “I know. Beware the terrifying....Angela. It doesn't quite have the ring to it. Like the difference between Ivan the Terrible and Ivan the Awesome” She gave Pen's hand a tight squeeze; one that conveyed support and friendship but also reassurance, “You know fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself, apparently. So maybe Angie isn't such a bad reference point to have” Perhaps not say it to his face, as one did not aggravate a dragon, but using it themselves, if only for silly childish laughter, gave them some of their power back, “We can't let him win, Pen.” Her tone implying she meant in more ways than one, “Not even slightly.”

Penelope brought Maggie's knuckles to her lips and kissed them. "We'll do our best," she said. There wasn't a great deal of 'letting' going about with how broken her loved ones were, but she need not tell Maggie that.

Maggie shook her head, “I'm serious. We can't let him dictate how we react to things. That's how he-” He gestured vaguely to where her old thesis sat on the table, “He uses emotions to get the advantage, he throws people off their game, he makes thing at odds, before he does anything physical at all, and then people do the damage themselves because of it. I know it's damned hard, but we have to try and...oh god, this is going to sound pathetically like I'm talking about a bully at school- but we have not let him get to us because that's the way he'll get the upperhand. I know it,” The problem was it was far easier said than done. Angelus had only resurfaced less than a week ago and already things were unravelling, “And I'm not unhappy Pen. But I promise to tell you if I ever am, alright?”

Penelope raised her other hand to Maggie's cheek, cradling it gently. "Alight," she said. "If you promise." So much of what her friend had said, however lovely or true was next to impossible to achieve. They were men and women of causes and ideals, of determination and fortitude. Which meant that when the road of their cause differed from one to the next...there very little hope of keeping close. Very little hope indeed. But they could still try, couldn't they? At least--that seemed to be what Maggie was inclined to suggest.

Maggie nodded with confirmation and a small smile. She could see the layers of thoughts in Penelope's eyes; so many worries all the time, and wished she could help her let go of them all for just one day- one whole day of blissful ignorance. “I do. As long as you promise to keep teaching me sword fighting. I know I wasn't exactly shining the other day but I am a remarkably quick study you will find”

Penelope beamed. "I will. I certainly will, darling. Perhaps someday we'll grab Char and be the Three Musketeers or some such nonsense. Gen shall be Dartanion if need be." She wrinkled her nose playfully, locking her worries away again for the moment, better off buried or kept close. "But I'll still be quicker than you, I hope you know."

Maggie clapped her hands together in glee, “Oh god, that's fantastic,” She laughed, “And I know I have /no/ hopes of matching you in that particular field. Which is why I have the great desire to take you on an archery range one day. Just to even the playing field every now and then”

Penelope twisted her smile, contemplative and wry. "In time, if this goes on much longer, yes. Does that sound agreeable enough?"

Maggie smiled patiently at her as one does a child whose defiance is still charming, “Regardless. You're coming shooting with me one day, no matter what happens.” She said it with a joking lilt, but she was serious. Not only would she enjoy shooting with someone, as she did enjoy shooting with Xander, but as she felt being capable with swords was essential she felt a part of a bow to be something equally important. A good shot with an arrow and the vampire was finished before they even reached you. Admittedly, a small part of her wanted to be the one with the upper hand and that was certainly never going to happen with swordplay. She let her smile fall for a moment, not out of sadness, but to convey something of weight, “Pen, you know I'll never judge you? For anything? I mean that. You can be as open as you want about anything and I'll listen, alright? I mean you've listened to me unburdening often enough. Just....know that? Okay?”

Penelope curled her hands around a warm mug of tea. Earl Grey, two sugars. In recent days, she had felt more conservative, more wary and prone to self-denial, but to have a bout worry ruin a perfectly good cup of tea was madness. People died, kingdoms crumbled, but a cup of tea was still impeccably, reliably, perfect. She inhaled the rich scent as it warmed her face, gentler than a caress.

It had been another long day, and more trying than she must have realised at the moment for Maggie to have still been there when she left the office. Penelope had invited her over without hesitation. She still felt her mind throbbing and reeling from their last little spat in her home. Rather than mull it over in the library alone, she sought to pacify any lingering suspicions in the older woman's mind and perhaps use her company as balm for her own agitations. A storm was coming, it always was. Tides worked both ways, and in spite of Death rather literally at their doorstep, they were coming along a bit better than one might expect. This only caused Penelope to be more fearful of when the other shoe would drop. But for now, she and Maggie were curled up in large, ample chairs in her bedroom, tea in their hands and sweets hot from the oven on a plate between them. The heat was on to fight against the October chill and light cast long, comically dramatic shadows all across the floor. They must have looked like overgrown girls acting out the shell of a sleepover. Shadows and tired eyes, sweets and sweet-scented blankets spread around them and what suddenly seemed to be an abundance of pillows. But in truth, it was all a bit more plain than that. She was exhausted, and mundane as it seemed, she desired comfort. Maggie.

Smiling sheepishly at this thought, Penelope looked over towards her friend to see how she was doing. "You alright, there?" she asked. Of course she was, or would be. On the rare, astonishing occasion that Mad Maggie Wells was other than alright, her distress always seemed to be well within sight. She had walls like everyone else, not a maximum security fortress. Her feelings were lit up and neatly labeled in as many colourful varieties as one could imagine. And yet Penelope did sometimes feel the need to ask for certainty's sake. Maggie was as bright as she was mad, but she was still human. She had her shadows and her sorrows. Often Penelope would wonder if they were more numerous than she dared give the woman credit for. It uneased her, not in the way that one feels towards those they would rather see as more or less than human, but the way in which one wishes that their loved ones didn't exist in such a vulnerable  sorrow-prone sphere when they were away from one's company. She felt protective of the older woman. And if her attentions deflected conversations well away from herself, then that was simply icing on the proverbial cake.