John's arms come up quickly, settling first, then squeezing. he's not used to this, not by any means, people don't come to John Watson for this sort of comfort, but holding a person doesn't take much consideration when they've already done half the work and Claire is someone he very much wants to see safe. there's worry, sharp and acute, but for her sake also the tick of a smile she can't see but might be able to get the gist of from the humoured huff of breath he lets out where he's hooked his chin over her shoulder. ]
You might as well. I've done fire this week, thought I'd make my way through the elements.
[ it's an it's alright, one way or the other, out or in. he's here. they're in a supply cupboard, the world isn't watching. do what you need to do. ]
[He's awful. There's a quarter of a muffled laugh before it dissolves into tears, one hand reaching around John in an attempt to hastily wipe them away. The merit of being alone is that (for the most part) your crying is private. There's been a lot of that over these many months, but now with Jamie sitting on her sofa she can't do it. She can't cry about what's happened to him right before his eyes. It's unfair, especially when he's trying so hard to keep it together for the both of them.
There's a few heaving sobs in there, ones that shake her slender body, but the whole ordeal is over in a matter of a minute. That's enough. It has to be enough.]
Sorry, thanks. [Gently pulling away, she turns around so her tear-smudged face isn't visible as she rubs her eyes, sniffling all the while. He's a good sport, this John Watson.] Didn't mean to be so dramatic.
[ John lets her cry, and he lets her go. god knows he understands what it's like to need privacy in this sort of thing and he won't force it all into attention - not the lapse of control, anyway. which doesn't mean he's necessarily going to leave her to sweep it under the carpet ]
Something happen, Claire? [ obviously, yes. her husband's here. he needs a brace for a hand recently fixed. somewhere, in all that, comes an outpouring of emotion that didn't read all that much like relief. ]
Jamie's here. But he's--hurt, more than just a smashed hand. He's been tortured, it's awful, and I--[but it's not really about her, and she stops with a hard swallow.]
[ oh God. John stills, a new sort of steadiness coming over him. memory of stripes across a back, or never asking, not really. of knowing, through the tone of silences and the vast stretches of unsaid things, that the scars aren't the worst part. gentle, but not any weaker in intent for it: ]
Does he need checking over? [ not that Claire isn't perfectly capable of that herself, not that having a stranger anywhere near him would necessarily be the best, but it's an offer all the same if she needs it. John'll do what he can to take off pressure from Claire, including removing the need for her to ask. quietly, John's sensitivity to her expands to make room for a husband recently tortured and everything that entails. ]
[She doesn't take any offense at the suggestion. In fact, it seems to calm her, a shuddery sigh exhaled before she makes another wipe at her eyes. She's no surgeon, no doctor.]
Perhaps in a day or two. He needs to settle, I think, before I throw something like that at him. Fraser's are stubborn as mules sometimes.
[ a small smile, Frasers are stubborn as mules sometimes, and John fishes into his jeans pocket to pull out a mostly empty packet of tissues he'd forgotten about before, fish one out and hand it out to Claire. ]
If he needs to talk to me before he meets me, he's welcome to call.
It's a long story, a very long one actually, but I found myself a few hundred years in the past in Scotland and... that's where I was, before I came here. It's just always easier to say where I was before that--1945.
[She takes another steadying breath, an apologetic smile on her lips. Sorry, John.]
That's one way of putting it. [This sort of calm acceptance is a little funny, and she hides her smile by pretending to dab at her mostly-dry face.] It's probably a good time to mention that I'm pregnant, at home. Just to get it all out there.
[So it's even worse that you didn't get her flowers, John.]
Explains the weeping into my drink situation when we first met.
[ well, this is a lot in one go. John stops. stares at her. pregnant, at home. so this place is capable of suspending pregnancy, too.
it's none of it anything she's ever been obliged to tell him. with a huff, he nods, small and slight and drawing an underline. grateful to know, no need to comment. ]
It does a bit. [ he'd laugh, but... probably not the time ] ... Hand brace, then?
Hand brace. [She appreciates the lack of commentary. Claire, independent as she is, very much worries about the people she cares about thinking she's insane. She sometimes thinks she is.]
It's his left. His middle and ring finger were set and sewn. [So they need to be kept still. Claire grabs the two braces she'd found. Really, either would do--she knows it, and he can probably guess as much once he sees how similar they are. She just needs the reassurance, the talking to someone that isn't Jamie, and that brief cry.]
What he's got now is... wood and cloth, basically. It does the job but it's massive. He can't go about like that.
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John's arms come up quickly, settling first, then squeezing. he's not used to this, not by any means, people don't come to John Watson for this sort of comfort, but holding a person doesn't take much consideration when they've already done half the work and Claire is someone he very much wants to see safe. there's worry, sharp and acute, but for her sake also the tick of a smile she can't see but might be able to get the gist of from the humoured huff of breath he lets out where he's hooked his chin over her shoulder. ]
You might as well. I've done fire this week, thought I'd make my way through the elements.
[ it's an it's alright, one way or the other, out or in. he's here. they're in a supply cupboard, the world isn't watching. do what you need to do. ]
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There's a few heaving sobs in there, ones that shake her slender body, but the whole ordeal is over in a matter of a minute. That's enough. It has to be enough.]
Sorry, thanks. [Gently pulling away, she turns around so her tear-smudged face isn't visible as she rubs her eyes, sniffling all the while. He's a good sport, this John Watson.] Didn't mean to be so dramatic.
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Something happen, Claire? [ obviously, yes. her husband's here. he needs a brace for a hand recently fixed. somewhere, in all that, comes an outpouring of emotion that didn't read all that much like relief. ]
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It's just... a lot. I didn't expect this.
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Does he need checking over? [ not that Claire isn't perfectly capable of that herself, not that having a stranger anywhere near him would necessarily be the best, but it's an offer all the same if she needs it. John'll do what he can to take off pressure from Claire, including removing the need for her to ask. quietly, John's sensitivity to her expands to make room for a husband recently tortured and everything that entails. ]
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Perhaps in a day or two. He needs to settle, I think, before I throw something like that at him. Fraser's are stubborn as mules sometimes.
[Explains her a little.]
I trust you. He'll trust you, too.
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If he needs to talk to me before he meets me, he's welcome to call.
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After I teach him how to use the thing. Have I mentioned [she wipes at her eyes and nose], that he's from 1744?
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1744.
[ you neglected to share that tidbit actually claire ]
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At least she almost laughs.]
It's a long story, a very long one actually, but I found myself a few hundred years in the past in Scotland and... that's where I was, before I came here. It's just always easier to say where I was before that--1945.
[She takes another steadying breath, an apologetic smile on her lips. Sorry, John.]
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[ Claire. but it's alright. by this point, he's used to pretending he's not had his worldview tipped on its axis. ]
So you've travelled about a lot then. [ through time ]
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[So it's even worse that you didn't get her flowers, John.]
Explains the weeping into my drink situation when we first met.
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it's none of it anything she's ever been obliged to tell him. with a huff, he nods, small and slight and drawing an underline. grateful to know, no need to comment. ]
It does a bit. [ he'd laugh, but... probably not the time ] ... Hand brace, then?
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It's his left. His middle and ring finger were set and sewn. [So they need to be kept still. Claire grabs the two braces she'd found. Really, either would do--she knows it, and he can probably guess as much once he sees how similar they are. She just needs the reassurance, the talking to someone that isn't Jamie, and that brief cry.]
What he's got now is... wood and cloth, basically. It does the job but it's massive. He can't go about like that.