[ It's said quite evenly, Peggy Carter is a woman who does not panic as a rule. ]
I came round to her place for tea just now. And it's all set out on the table, it's still hot, but she isn't here. [ A breath. ] The door was unlocked so I let myself in, and I thought — I don't know, maybe there was some emergency she'd rushed off to. And if it was big enough, that you'd be there too. But clearly that isn't the case.
her explanation brings hope. he's not giving up on Claire yet: people have been going far too quickly. ]
Could still be she was called in. I'm not on the Sanctuary's books, I don't hear about it unless the whole city does or it involves a refugee. We can check.
[ Haven't got to try. He's not the only one reeling it in here. ]
Listen —
[ But just as soon as she says that, she breaks off again. The war is no excuse, really. Coming into a home, finding a life clearly interrupted, was never a good sign then and it's likely why the initial worry came so sharply. (And Claire was her first friend here.) But: perspective, Carter. ]
[ a sort of— cough. the sound is the result of him cutting off a laugh that was never a laugh but a filler sound to replace the For fuck's sake, Peg that can't be allowed to have its place here.
but he is fucking aggravated. something between the rapid decline of this conversation, the way he still hasn't had time to understand how to process what it means for someone to go back to sleep here, and the fact that someone's sudden absence no longer brings up worries of abduction or whatever else, but deep-space unconsciousness. nothing's fucking normal anymore, not even disappearances. ]
I didn't say that, did I? [ no. a beat of silence, but only for a second. for emphasis. ] I'll sort it. Get back to you when I know.
[ and he— literally rings off, so as not to say anything he'll regret or give her time to do the same. bye. ]
[ Thing is, someone disappearing because they've gone back to sleep is the best option. She has to believe it to be, because the alternative would be something dire like abduction or, at its most tame, a sudden emergency. But Claire is just another name on a (short) list of good friends who've vanished and it's difficult to manage. Edmund Pevensie has been asleep long before the epidemic, Bucky Barnes was gone almost as long and has only just returned to them — with no memory of having been awake before. Claire's husband returned to stasis, so perhaps she has, too.
(If Steve goes, if John goes, she hasn't got a clue what she'd do here.)
John saying he'll sort it makes her assume he's going to poke around the Sanctuary. Fine, that's fine. She knows he's a detective, just as she's done investigative work under the SSR, it's only reasonable. But she needs to go up to Thesa, because once that possibility is eliminated, then she can pursue other things. And if he decides to ring her back, she'll certainly answer — from the aisles of the stasis unit. ]
[ It is a loss of a sort. And she should be familiar with that. She is, really, and as far as losses go, this one shouldn't hurt so much — after all, Claire is safe. She's here, right in front of her. Better here than dead or captured. She tries to rationalise that but it doesn't make it easier; if anything, she's profoundly glad she's up in stasis alone so she can grapple with the weight of this revelation in privacy. Not like when she discovered Edmund Pevensie's sleeping face under glass. She can stand to be upset, a little.
Because Claire had been one of those rare women who understood what it was like to come from the the time they had. To live through the war, to be more than a good little housewife during it, to stand one's ground in a man's profession. She can count the number of friends like that on one hand. And now that number is zero. ]
To you, as well. For this and for being short with you. Again.
[ which is to say don't mention it, because it's not worth mentioning, both because neither one of them was the better man and because if current trends have anything to say about it, this won't be the last time they snip at each other when the situation goes south.
and it has. severely. and John for one still hasn't worked out what he's supposed to feel about it - which makes this emotional stasis before gravity kicks in all the more daunting, given that he hasn't got a clue how steep the drop. ]
I know telling you not to think about it isn't going to help, but it's that or constant intoxication
[ he's not going to bullshit you, Peggy. he's never yet had to handle the possibility of losing someone he hadn't first had to find here - none of them have ever been awake - but it makes him almost grateful that the faces he'd most want to see are exactly where he's left them, still and sleeping.
there's no making the fear of loss go away. there's nothing he can do about it, and he's not got the heart for empty consolations with her. they don't have the kind of dynamic that supports believing the sort of shit you might be comforted by from other people. ]
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voice | un: carter
Claire isn't with you, is she? Or at the Sanctuary?
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Peggy? Why, what's the matter?
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[ It's said quite evenly, Peggy Carter is a woman who does not panic as a rule. ]
I came round to her place for tea just now. And it's all set out on the table, it's still hot, but she isn't here. [ A breath. ] The door was unlocked so I let myself in, and I thought — I don't know, maybe there was some emergency she'd rushed off to. And if it was big enough, that you'd be there too. But clearly that isn't the case.
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her explanation brings hope. he's not giving up on Claire yet: people have been going far too quickly. ]
Could still be she was called in. I'm not on the Sanctuary's books, I don't hear about it unless the whole city does or it involves a refugee. We can check.
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1/2
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—I'm not saying she's not gone. I'm just saying it's worth asking over there before we check stasis.
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Then go on, by all means. It's not as though I've dealt with this sort of thing before.
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Listen —
[ But just as soon as she says that, she breaks off again. The war is no excuse, really. Coming into a home, finding a life clearly interrupted, was never a good sign then and it's likely why the initial worry came so sharply. (And Claire was her first friend here.) But: perspective, Carter. ]
Fine. Fine, I'll go then, shall I?
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but he is fucking aggravated. something between the rapid decline of this conversation, the way he still hasn't had time to understand how to process what it means for someone to go back to sleep here, and the fact that someone's sudden absence no longer brings up worries of abduction or whatever else, but deep-space unconsciousness. nothing's fucking normal anymore, not even disappearances. ]
I didn't say that, did I? [ no. a beat of silence, but only for a second. for emphasis. ] I'll sort it. Get back to you when I know.
[ and he— literally rings off, so as not to say anything he'll regret or give her time to do the same. bye. ]
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(If Steve goes, if John goes, she hasn't got a clue what she'd do here.)
John saying he'll sort it makes her assume he's going to poke around the Sanctuary. Fine, that's fine. She knows he's a detective, just as she's done investigative work under the SSR, it's only reasonable. But she needs to go up to Thesa, because once that possibility is eliminated, then she can pursue other things. And if he decides to ring her back, she'll certainly answer — from the aisles of the stasis unit. ]
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Not at the Sanctuary
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I know.
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You found her?
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shit.
there's nothing to do in this situation. he takes a cue from Alan and the bad news of a week before. ]
Sorry Peg
[ it's a loss, of a kind ]
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Because Claire had been one of those rare women who understood what it was like to come from the the time they had. To live through the war, to be more than a good little housewife during it, to stand one's ground in a man's profession. She can count the number of friends like that on one hand. And now that number is zero. ]
To you, as well.
For this and for being short with you.
Again.
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[ which is to say don't mention it, because it's not worth mentioning, both because neither one of them was the better man and because if current trends have anything to say about it, this won't be the last time they snip at each other when the situation goes south.
and it has. severely. and John for one still hasn't worked out what he's supposed to feel about it - which makes this emotional stasis before gravity kicks in all the more daunting, given that he hasn't got a clue how steep the drop. ]
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[ She caught that Peg, John Watson. She's immensely touched. ]
And as grim as it sounds, it seems as though those may be in short supply these days.
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Sorry
I'm not ordinarily so morbid.
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It's hard. It's fine
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[ he's not going to bullshit you, Peggy. he's never yet had to handle the possibility of losing someone he hadn't first had to find here - none of them have ever been awake - but it makes him almost grateful that the faces he'd most want to see are exactly where he's left them, still and sleeping.
there's no making the fear of loss go away. there's nothing he can do about it, and he's not got the heart for empty consolations with her. they don't have the kind of dynamic that supports believing the sort of shit you might be comforted by from other people. ]
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