February 2nd, 1895 - Whitby & Co. Printers

It was finally her day off and Sage had spent the morning with Maggie reading and painting and playing. She was astounded by what her daughter already knew and it made her grateful for the job her adoptive parents had done for the first four years of her life. It was a strange sort of feeling, not wanting to let someone down who had been raising her child, but she felt like she owed Mr. & Mrs. Tully for everything they'd done in her absence.

The new routine of her life was starting to settle. Sage was more used to sleeping in split shifts, her overnights now the norm. It wasn't ideal, but there wasn't much she could do about it until Maggie was a little older and more independent, not to mention more comfortable in her new living situation. Her mistakes were already a huge imposition on her family and friends; she was trying to mitigate the disruption to their lives as much as humanly possible. If she thought she could do it and it wouldn't give her away, she would have tried to find a small flat of her own, but it was impossible on her salary. Not to mention there would be none of that plausible deniability they'd been hoping would work their favor as to who Maggie might belong to if Sage took sole responsibility for her.

In moments of weakness, she thought about reaching out to Locke. He would help, she knew it, no matter how angry he was about the whole thing. She'd seen him do it for his other children, Sage just hated to be a burden for anyone. She also worried that it would upset the balance they'd found here and so she was resolute in the decision, even if she sometimes wondered.

None of that was at the forefront of her mind right now though. Maggie had gone down for a nap and Sage, though she'd enjoyed herself this morning, was ready for a little break. She'd had every intention of maybe lying down herself, she knew the circles under her eyes were deep and noticeable, but nobody had said anything. However after Maggie has finally drifted off, Sage had looked at her desk and seen the letter from the Tullys sitting there. She hadn't been brave enough to read it yet, but enough time had passed that she ought to. There were too many people around today, but she knew Tess was out, so Sage slipped downstairs, intent on using her sister's office to have some privacy, but as soon as she went downstairs she nearly ran right into Declan and the letter fluttered form her hands to the floor. "Sorry," she sighed as she bent to retrieve the fallen parchment.

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Declan Buchanan

  

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Declan didn't care for February. Neither he nor Kenna knew enough magic to keep their house as warm as they'd like, and the snow in the slums was always dirty. He often entered the printshop before the sun rose and left it before it set. Most of the romance books he read were set in the summer, during the Season, so even his escapism was tinged with an element of frustration.

But the printer was running and he had just finished carefully resorting one of the letter trays with letters they'd used from an earlier job. He had a block to carve. It would maybe be a good day. He needed a new knife for carving, and was on his way into Tess' office to fish around for one, when he nearly collided with Sage.

"S'alright," he said, taking a half-step back. He didn't move to pick up her paper, because she was already bent for it — and because papers were often private. "Everything all right up there?"

By everything, he meant Maggie.

  

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set by Bee

"Hmm?" Sage had been lost in her thoughts at his question for a moment before catching up. She clutched the letter tight to her chest, still terrified to read it. "Oh, yes, she's sleeping." She realized what Declan was asking her belatedly. "She's been good for at least an hour-and a-half-nap, lately." Maybe it was all of the upheaval; Sage hadn't spent this much time around a little one in a while, but this had been their routine since she'd joined them and it was good for everybody.

Running one hand over her face and along the braid hanging loosely over her shoulder, Sage stepped back to let Declan pass. "Sorry, didn't mean to be in the way." Sage's usefulness in the printshop only extended to the administrative side. She could handle that easily, but left the more physical and artistic things to Tess and the boys and she didn't want to be a distraction or a bother any more than she already was.

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Declan could have stepped past her fairly easily now that Sage moved, but he stayed where he was. "You're not in the way," Declan said. She could never be in the way — she was his friend, even if she hadn't told him her secrets, and she was also more or less in her own home.

"Are you alright?" Declan asked, from his space near her in the small hallway, in more of an undertone than he'd spoken previously.

  

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set by Bee

Sage smiled weakly at his protest. She was indeed in the way, hindering everyone's lives with her problems and her mistakes. Nobody had complained, but that didn't stop her from recognizing the truth of the situation.

His question was a dangerous one, with an uncertain answer. Sage wasn't sure she was prepared to unload on anyone, least of all Declan. She still felt guilty about not telling him about Maggie in the first place. He'd had this shoved upon him unceremoniously and was being a real trooper about it. Maybe that was her main hesitation, so— "Yeah, I'm fine, just tired." Which she was. Working nights and surviving on broken sleep patterns so she didn't disrupt everyone else's lives any more than necessary was starting to catch up to her. She fiddled with the letter in her hands, still unsure as to whether or not she was ready to read it, but now was as good of a time as any.

"I'll ah, let you get back to work." She added quietly.

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Declan watched her, the way her smile was off around the edges, the way she fidgeted with the envelope in her hands. He should go back to work. "Sage," he said quietly, instead, "Don't lie to me."

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   Sage Whitby

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set by Bee

The visceral guilt the welled up in her chest overwhelmed her to the point that she felt like she was suffocating. Her shoulders fell along with her expression, resolve crumbling against any sort of protests she'd been about to spit out. She'd already lied to him once, a huge, life-changing situation that had been unavoidable at the time. She'd thought she'd solved it, but the past had caught up with her and there was truly no escaping in now.

"I, I—" she whispered, afraid to trust her voice, unsure of what she could possibly say. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." It was all she had, folding into herself as she pressed her hands to her eyes to cover up the tears that had started to fall.

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