nysalogs | closed | I've moved further than I thought I could

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closed | I've moved further than I thought I could

Who: Claire Fraser (

revlon)
What: Jamie and Claire are from different points in their timeline, and Claire wants Peggy's advice on giving him spoilers.
When: Some days after the new arrivals come down.
Where: A conveniently placed pub on the edges of the residential district.
Warning(s): Outlander spoilers for both seasons, mention of graphic situations...

[Claire should be happier, she thinks. She is happy--she has her husband, her love, and he's whole and in good health and good spirits. She can hear him laugh and have a conversation with him. She can kiss him until she can't breathe.

Except every time she does that, she feels incredibly guilty.

Jamie awoke, but missing years of memories. Years of experiences. Not simply memory loss, but this Jamie had never experienced it. The missing marks on his body told her the truth of it. There was so much he didn't know. Terrible things. Happy things, too--but it was the terrible ones that sat on Claire's heart.

Two options. Tell him, or don't. Frighten him, or lie. He told her once that there was room for secrets, but not lies, in their relationship. The lines blurred on this one.

When Peggy finds Claire, she'll be sitting in a corner booth, a bottle of something on the table between two glasses. Hers is circling the drain. Probably not her first refill.]

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[ Peggy's still in the black uniform of the guard when she comes striding into the pub, although she'd had the foresight to stash her rifle back at home before meeting Claire. She's barely a minute late but it seems her roommate is early — and has been here long enough to have had a drink or two. (She rather hopes just the one, she's not especially keen on navigating a tipsy heart-to-heart.) ]

I see you've gotten a head start, [ she says by way of greeting, settling herself into the booth with a rather excellent vantage point of the entire establishment. Ta for that, Claire. Peggy helps herself to the bottle, pouring a measure of liquor into the remaining glass. ] Shall I play catch up or would you like to fill me in?

[ No beating around the bush, this one. ]

[The alcohol isn't doing much. Claire's built a tolerance over years of living with Scots that drink whisky more often than water, and she's not looking to become a sobbing mess in the back of a pub. If she comes home a drunk mess, Jamie will know something's off. He might already have his concerns. She's a different woman from the one he married.

Peggy gets a brief smile, and it grows a little when she cuts to the point. No need to ask about the day or talk about the weather.]

The Jamie that's here isn't precisely the Jamie I'm married to back home. It's him, body and soul, but... a different time in our lives. To his recollection, we've only just married. For me, it's been almost two years. A lot's happened in that time.

[ That's not at all what she expected. She'd been halfway to lifting her glass when Claire drops that on her and she lowers it back down, frowning. ]

I'd ask how that's possible, but given the differences between the two of us and Steve, besides... [ Peggy shakes her head. There are time discrepancies throughout. But what's baffling about this one is that Jamie's missing time with his wife in a way quite different to how Steve and Peggy have been divided. They know they were separated. This — ] How did you know?

[ Then: ]

Does he?

[She's put a lot of the disjointed pieces of Peggy and Steve together from what she's heard from each. The war, the respect, the things lost before they could be truly found. Waking up and finding out you've missed a lifetime with someone. And how did the Storm somehow get them all?]

He spoke to me differently. We had a pretty nasty falling out in the beginning of our marriage, and he was worried I was still upset. [For Jamie's sake, she won't mention to Peggy why that was. No need to shame her husband for things he didn't understand at the time and things she let go long ago.]

What confirmed it was his body. He had a hand injury, before. [She flexes her own, looking down at it before it wraps back around her glass and she looks to Peggy.] He's missing a number of scars he should still carry. He doesn't have a clue.

[Though he certainly can sense something is wrong. She sees it in his face.]

I don't know how to tell him... or even if I should.

[ She's asking her about what she should do, isn't she? God, that's a dilemma. Peggy frowns gently, thinking; the answer does come easily to her, but she barely knows James Fraser so she doesn't know if that's advice that should be best followed. She's a woman who keeps secrets for a living, so one might assume that's her natural impulse. But it isn't, not when it comes to trusting someone you care about. ]

I know what I would do, [ she says after a moment, looking up from her glass to the other woman, ] but I can't be sure if it would help you. [ She shakes her head a little. ] I would be honest. Building your life here on a lie, even if it's just by omission, is still a lie. And if the truth ever came to light, the fallout could be worse down the road than if you'd started with it in the first place.

[ She sighs. ]

From what you've told me, he seems like he could understand. But I don't know him like you do.

He doesn't even know his adopted boy. He was in the pod right next to him up there.

[That broke her heart somehow worse than the rest. Fergus was the closest thing Jamie might ever have to a child--and Jamie was most certainly the closest thing Fergus would have to a father. What if he woke up, too? What if he met a Jamie that had no idea who he was?]

He would understand either way, I think, which is the problem. [Peggy is right with her instinct and Claire knows it. Still, she's not quick to check out with that so soon.] He experienced a lot of things that changed him. The Jamie that's here now is still him, but he seems so much... happier, I think.

[Perhaps. She's not sure if she's telling herself he's happier so that it seems all the better to keep her secrets.]

When I look at him, there are less shadows. You know the look. The way the features change after people have experienced terrible things. [Trauma.] And I don't know if leaving it for him to imagine it by my accounts is more cruel than keeping the facade.

[ She does know the look and how it can change. She's seen it in combat. She sees it in Steve and she's sure he sees it in her; they are not the same people they were when they met. It's why she's been so careful about trying to rekindle what they had — they've changed and grown up and endured so much.

Peggy smiles quietly, sympathetic and bittersweet all at once. She finishes off her drink with a smooth sip and sets the empty glass aside for now, arms folding on the table. ]

You could tell him the bare minimum — that there's time missing between you but you can't or won't say what because... I don't know, why trouble yourself with it in the first place, I suppose. And I understand wanting to spare him the difficulties. Believe me. [ She'd feel the same, if Steve weren't so far ahead of her in the future that she's sure it's the other way around for them. ] It's a kindness and speaks to how much you care for him. But perhaps it's up to him to decide what he can and can't handle.

[Claire might be looking down into her glass as Peggy speaks, but she is listening. She's right, saying everything Claire's thought and knows to be the correct choice, but it's terrifying.]

I just don't want to see that look of fear on his face. He'll think he can handle all of it, and he can I think--in time. But it's going to haunt him as it did before. [She looks back up, finally.] I mentioned his hand. He had been tortured, body and soul. That hand had been nailed to a table and crushed with a hammer. And the monster that did it branded him on the ribs. We cut it out later but that mark isn't there now. I felt--terrible when I saw that, because I was so relieved to see smooth skin. It's like it never happened. But I know it did. I saw.

[Some of it, anyway. She remembers Jamie after vividly well. Her funny, bright, loving husband didn't want to live any longer.]

I don't want to lose him to that man again.

[ She listens quietly, attentively. She's good at keeping the horror from her expression, but she does feel it — Peggy has seen and done a lot in her life, survived a war of unspeakable suffering. She knows what atrocities were committed against her fellow operatives unlucky enough to have been betrayed and captured and it had been nearly too much to bear, especially when she was young and new to the job. She can't imagine it happening to someone she loves.

To Steve. Or her brother, whatever had happened to him. She'll never know. ]

My God, Claire, [ she breathes softly, shaking her head. She reaches across to take the other woman's hand. ] I'm so sorry.

That's not even the worst of it. [It should be, given what was done to Jamie, but he's always been able to stomach his own hurts better than those of others. She squeezes Peggy's hand, maybe too hard, and knows she'll be apologizing for all this spewing later. Once Claire starts, it's difficult to stop.]

While he was being kept by this man, I found out I was pregnant. I think--it was one of the few things that made him truly happy after all of that. [The promise of a future even if they didn't talk about the baby much until the end. They were both in different places, but Claire never doubted his love for the child.] She was a stillbirth. That was the closest anything ever came to ruining our marriage. If I could, I wouldn't tell him about it because I know that hurt him more than anything else.

[There's almost a laugh.]

But I can't handle the thought of me being the only one that knows she existed here. Though I suppose there's you now, too.

[There's something apologetic in her expression. She never meant to dump so much on Peggy, but if she can't do it to her, then she won't be able to bring herself to do the same to Jamie and in much more detail.]

[ Peggy Carter has never been the sort of person to confess her problems so openly and honestly, sometimes she envies the people who can. It's a difficult thing, carrying on with all that hardship bottled up inside for a private moment that never seems to come. But it was part and parcel of the war and what came after; a burden she'd resigned herself to shouldering as she mourned Steve in secret and did her work. Maybe it would have been easier to have someone to confide in, but she never quite managed it.

So she doesn't rightly know how to best comfort Claire now. She's at a bit of a loss in the face of something so painful, she can't fathom it, but she squeezes the other woman's hand gently and folds it between both of her own. Softly, ]

I'm glad to know you trust me enough to tell me all this. And I promise that I won't tell another soul.

[There's not a part of Claire that expects Peggy to know how to react. No one ever does. She can't blame them--it's a lot, and she does feel bad for dropping it all on a woman she's known for such a short time, but in that time she's come to trust her more than anyone else here. She can't come to Jamie with her edges raw and uncertain. She has to be able to keep it together for him if--when--she tells him.

Though that's apparently already decided.]

It's going to break his heart.

[ She knows she's decided to do this, she can see the shift. Some people might argue that's the hard part over, but Peggy knows otherwise — the truth may be better in the long run, but it isn't always easy to tell. Not every lie is done out of malice; sometimes it's a kindness. Even if it's something as little as you'll be all right to a dying soldier.

Or the promise of a date that will never come. ]

And you'll be there to help him put it back together.

[That's the hope. She has to believe he won't shut her out for this or disappear into the city.]

Awful that the least of my worries is that he doesn't know that I'm from the 1940s. He took that in stride when I told him before. He believed me. Didn't think I was mad or question me at all. He only wanted to learn more.

[She sighs, looking at Peggy with a helpless little shrug.]

Before, when I told him about my... situation, he tried to help me get back home. That's the kind of man he is. He didn't want to, but he did, because he loved me and wanted me happy. He puts me before himself, always.

[Another breath.]

I need to do that for him.

[By telling him the truth, even if it terrifies her.]

[ She smiles gently, squeezing the other woman's hand again. ]

You will. I have every confidence in you, Claire. And I'll help you however way I can, even if it's just for drinks and a chat. [ Peggy holds onto her for another long moment before releasing her hands and reaching for her own glass again. ] We're rather lucky, aren't we? To have men in our lives who we can trust so absolutely.

I'm sorry. I'm sure you didn't wake up today expecting to have such cheerful chatter dropped on you. [Hand free, Claire rubs her face. No tears on her cheeks, but just to be sure, she wipes under each eye.]

I used to think men like Jamie were rare, if not one of a kind. I don't think Steve's far off, if I dare say so.

[She hasn't known him long, but Claire can tell he's a good man. A simple compliment, if not a plain one, but to be good is no easy task.]

[ Her smile shifts; it's sweeter, warmer, softer. For a woman who is so careful about what it is she truly does and in keeping secrets, her affection for Steve Rogers is something that can't quite be hidden away. She shrugs, toying with her glass. ]

Well, we are all from different worlds, aren't we? Maybe they are one of a kind. But not when we're all put together like this.

[That, at least, has been fairly evident from the start.]

It's a comforting thought. Every world should have a James Fraser or Steve Rogers. [Maybe they do? Some sort of variation. As an afterthought, Claire lifts her glass.]

To one of a kind men.

Edited 2017-10-13 04:09 (UTC)

[ She chuckles, lifting her own glass and touching it gently to Claire's. ]

May they always be so lucky to know one of a kind women.

[ It's a cheeky thing to say. But just as the men they care for are wonderful, so are they as women who have made their way in a world built against them. ]

Good men, good taste.

[Just saying. They're allowed to be cheeky because it's entirely true.]

Or they just have a nose for trouble.

[ She takes a sip, nearly smirking. They ought to get some dinner in them, drinking on an empty stomach like this. ]

Not that I'm making any assumptions. He hasn't told me anything I didn't already know.

Either way, I can't very well deny that without lying. I do tend to be trouble. Not intentionally, of course. [A beat.][Back at home.]

I'm rather well behaved here.

[ Peggy smiles at that and mentally supplies yet to the end of that sentence. Only because she's the same way, she's quite certain. ]

I suppose that depends on your definition. [ Then - ] Although I wouldn't believe everything Steve might tell you about me. [ In a stage whisper, leaning in, ] He's just as likely to run headlong into a situation as I am.

[ Except when it comes to hashing things out with her. No, that had happened because she pressed the issue. ]

Edited 2017-10-14 20:44 (UTC)

That sweet young man? [Claire, you're the same age as him. Still, she makes a good play of lifting her brows, like she doesn't quite buy what Peggy's selling.]

I find that difficult to imagine.

[Except no, she can see it. She can see it perfectly well.]

[ She laughs, leaning back in her chair. The mood had been so sombre at the beginning of this conversation; lightening things up now doesn't take away from the gravity of all they discussed, but it helps to remember the good from the difficult. ]

Is that so?

No.

[She laughs, too. He's no docile thing. You don't go through wars and remain that way.]

But he is very sweet.

[ She glances away, then back; not quite coy. ]

He can be, yes. [ Lies. Even when she's frustrated with him — it was the war, they were all driven to the edge of patience — or even when she thought she'd lost him forever, that she had to let him go... he still holds a special place in her heart. ] Particularly when he isn't too caught up in trying to do or say the right thing.

[ Or even when he is caught up in all that. Maybe especially so. ]

He cares. [Plain and simple, and also plain as day.] I find that men that don't get caught up in that now and then likely aren't worth the time.

[ She thinks of the man she almost married and can't agree more. Fred Wells had been, in her late brother's estimation, a "nice enough chap." Quite true. There wasn't anything wrong with him, simply that he'd been a safe choice. Polite, mild-mannered, adequate. He chose his words carefully and they never offered much opinion. He'd have made an honest woman out of her. A housewife, perhaps, with children running around and it would have been a normal life.

Steve might not always say the right thing but he'll always do it. Selfless to a fault, his heart on his sleeve. ]

Yes, well. [ She clears her throat gently, cheeks warming a little. It might not entirely be the liquor's fault. ] I hope your husband sees it your way. I think we may have scandalised him a little.

[There's a smile, and then a laugh. Not an easy thing, to laugh after speaking about both Wentworth and their daughter, but she manages it. She's not sure if she felt worse for Peggy and Steve or for Jamie, bless his heart.]

You'll have to forgive him. He cares for a lady's reputation, is all. Once, before we were wed, he slept outside my door when all the rooms of the inn were occupied. The bloody look on his face when I tried to get him to come sleep inside, at least on my floor. [Might as well have asked him to have sex with her, with that reaction. That was so long ago now.] He slept in that filthy hallway all night, all because he didn't want anyone to think less of me.

Marriage and tradition are very important to him. He's old fashioned in that way, but he's learning to relax. Slowly but surely.

[ It's sweet, in its way. And it makes sense. She'd lived in an apartment building full of women where men were forbidden beyond the first floor. A lot of those traditional values haven't relaxed very much since the 1700s, although the spirit of the 1920s certainly helped loosen things up. ]

I understand, of course. It's just...

[ Her lips press together in a smile, and she shrugs helplessly. ]

I don't know if it will be better or worse, now that Steve and I have decided to — [ how do the Yanks put it? ] — go steady.

[Oh? Oooh. Claire's smile becomes much more fond. About time. She doesn't want to embarrass Peggy and make a big deal out of it, but she can't resist commenting.]

He took long enough.

[Steve's to blame, of course.]

Jamie will understand. Though I do think it's about time we start looking for a bigger flat--unless the two of you would like your own space?

God, I don't know. We haven't thought that far ahead.

[ Getting their own place? She hasn't even brought that up with him. Their little flat is a tight squeeze and they're certainly making a living wage; upgrading to something bigger is possible. But she hasn't sat down and discussed it with any of them. ]

I thought you two might want to have your own place to live. Given that you're married.

[The married couple haven't been doing much when it comes to marital duties. Jamie's been interested, of course, but Claire's felt far too burdened and guilty to let anything progress beyond touching and kissing. Much to his frustration, she knows, but he's not once complained.

Not that Claire would be inclined to get up to much in such close quarters, anyway.]

Having a place to ourselves hasn't ever been terribly important. At Lallybroch, his sister, her husband, and their children lived with us. Jamie wouldn't mind, nor would I. But if you and Steve would prefer things be different, that's fine as well.

[ She presses her lips into a knowing smile. ]

Steve and I haven't discussed it. But I'm just saying I wouldn't be offended if you wanted to afford yourselves a little more privacy. [ Peggy raises your brows. ] Even at what I'm sure was a grand manor house, you had your own room, surely?

[Claire makes a bit of a pained expression.]

Oh, I'm not saying I'm attached to sharing a room between the four of us. A few doors would be nice.

[ She laughs. ]

And some more walls, yes. [ Not that she and Steve are doing anything other than being sweet. ] We'll bring it up with the boys over dinner some time, then. Which may be asking for a lot, given our schedules.

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closed | I've moved further than I thought I could

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