edwinjarvis | IC contact. Drift Fleet.

Indeed, I'm at the bistro. Trying to make what I can in the way of those small pies, with dwindled supplies, anyway. I'll be here.

[.......

He's already worried about whatever this chat's gonna be for.]

When do you intend to pack it in for the day? I wouldn't think of being a disruption.

[ the subtext suggests she knows better than to drop whatever this is on him in the middle of a work day. ]

Nonsense, I can always make time... Besides, until we visit a waystation, it truly is quiet here. I can take a break and leave it to the others. Stop by whenever you're ready, Miss Carter.

[ she defers the visit for an hour or so. cruel, maybe -- but peggy is certain she's being cruel to be kind. the nearer it is to the end of his shift, the better. it would be horrible to make anyone finish out their work day after she tells him what she fears she must tell him.

and once she arrives at the bistro? well. she goes straight for the kitchen, skipping any pretense at taking a table and waiting to be waited on. besides, there's something almost comforting about the bustle.

it's less formal, for one. ]

You've made quite the niche for yourself in here, Mister Jarvis.

[ it's all she says by way of greeting. ]

[There is something a bit concerning about this whole thing. Something about it that's -- well, a gnawing sort of alarm, first a pinprick and then a biting kind of uncertainty. There was something off, something she was going to talk to him about that would be stressful. She had that way in her words, and the longer he works, the more he gets himself more and more silently worked up. But, bah. He feels ridiculous, kneading dough and fretting. It's not even going to be anything to get worked up about!

He feels absolutely childish and silly.

When Peggy comes in, he walks for her, having dispelled some of his concerns.

He smiles a bit.]

I do alright for myself, I suppose.

I would like to have a normally stocked kitchen again, but...

But nothing about these circumstances are normal.

[ she picks up a ladle. not for any good reason -- but because it's there, because she's nervous, because she knows she ought to have said something weeks ago. and that alone makes her worry about how jarvis might react. will he hold her silence against her?

some...awfully nasty things got said, in the end. ]

Mister Jarvis. About -- about that sleep I slipped into, not so long ago...

Edited 2017-10-24 22:00 (UTC)

... Yes, that sleep.

[He puts his hands on his hips, frowning more deeply now.]

Miss Carter, you know I was already frustrated enough when you decided to lounge about on a rebar... [It's said somewhat jokingly now that the danger has long passed, but don't think for a moment he's not still sore about that whole event...! So it's with some worry in the lines of his brow that he continues:] You didn't get yourself into anymore unpleasant trouble, did you?

Unpleasantness aplenty, Mister Jarvis. But that's not--

[ she shakes her head, and peers around him before she picks out a plain wooden chair on the far side of the kitchen. ]

Won't you have a seat?

[His expression falls considerably, and he feels strangely cold. A sort of instinct, a grim intuition, and he recalls with sudden vivid clarity his own words to her, when he had to tell her what happened to Howard and his wife. He'd told her something so very similar, and panic is making a fist slowly around his windpipe. Dammit all, Peggy, you'd come back so long ago -- he'd thought everything was relatively alright--]

What happened at home? Is it Mr. Stark?

[Funny, it doesn't even remotely cross his mind that it could be Ana. Because Ana is safe and sound at home, always kept somewhere he can watch out for her. she'd never fall into harm's way. That's ridiculous.]

[ a small shake of her head. it's -- it's all wrong. but that's because there's no right way to say it. ]

Everything is -- alright. [ to a rather tragic definition of 'alright,' if she's honest with the both of them. ] The worst has passed. But, my dear Mister Jarvis, I beg you to take a seat.

[ because this is going to get worse before it gets better. peggy goes so far as to put a hand on his elbow. to lead him. ]

[The worst has passed. It hasn't, because Jarvis hasn't passed it himself yet. That's the anxious thought he has as he moves after a length moment's hesitation, indeed only roused to action by the hand on his elbow. Her words are so careful and lacking in that edge, that hardness she often employs for grim situations she's determined to push through.

He sits rather numbly in the chair, looking a little lost as he waits for her to speak.

She's sitting him down.

She's sitting him down to tell him terrible news. He wipes his hands on the sides of his pants, still dry with flour -- it was just a very normal day, after all. He'd been trying to stretch supplies and make sure his crew of workers were doing alright. He'd been pre-planning the dinner for the Tourist.

Perhaps it's not that bad, though. His imagination was always far too active when it comes to things that would give a fright. He'll feel ridiculous when it's not as bad as he's conjuring. Absolutely silly.]

[ peggy crouches next to him. next to the chair. low enough so she can look upward and see his eyes -- remarkably gentle eyes. she knows that now, if only because she's also seen them harden. she doesn't lift her touch from his elbow. she doesn't dare. ]

I don't have to tell you. Lord knows, you'll live it in time. But I gave assurances that I would be better on fronts like these, and so I will give you the choice. Mister Jarvis, I have some terrible news. But I'll only tell if you feel you're prepared to hear it.

[ he won't be. as prepared as he thinks he is, he won't every actually be. ]

[Suddenly, it strikes him -- Mr. Stark and Miss Carter should be safe, or least relatively safe, for some time; not killed, anyway. There's really only one person she would be his gentle and concerned for. Not for herself, because she's infuriating about her own health and safety. Not Howard, because he's -- is he even back from...? And that's when he accepts the obvious.

Ana's name shoots through him like a bullet, taking his breath, and he goes pale as a ghost. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and cracked, hard to get out, and the elbow she's touching is quivering now.]

Is she alive?

[ -- oh, bless his clever quick heart. because peggy is certain he makes the deduction with that organ and not his brain. she rushes her hand down the length of his arm and takes his hand in hers. peggy laces their fingers together. there's no hesitation -- not an ounce of indecision -- in how tenderly and warmly she holds onto him.

it's a gruesome mirror of the day itself. ]

Oh, Mister Jarvis, she is quite alive. Awake and bright-eyed and very much on the mend. [ perhaps she oversells it a little, but howard had assured her that things only got better for ana as time ticked by. ]

I won't honey it. Things were...touch and go, for a moment there. But she's out of the woods.

[The relief that washes over him in that moment is palpable, and he clasps the space above his wildly thumping heart and breathes a long-awaited breath. She's alive. Awake. and bright-eyed. He's trying to imagine what could have happened without asking -- of course he'll ask, because he has to know: when, where, how? Why? Why is she even on the mend? Why did she get involved, where? Where was he? Where was he?

He wants to see her. He wants to get up and rush to a room that doesn't exist here.

He hasn't seen her in nearly a year, and -- he is still unable to go to her, and she's hurting. She needs him! Where was he when she needed him? The same place he'd been when Miss Carter needed help, or when Mr. Stark was killed? This magical void where Edwin Jarvis exists, stupidly unaware, as his family is hurt when he should have been at their sides.

Because obviously it would have never happened, if he'd just--

But she's out of the woods.

He coughs. Or he thinks it's a cough, but now that he listens, it's more like a sob.

Oh, that's definitely a sob. Another follows, and he rubs his face against his sleeve.

No amount of self-hate or anger for his own inadequacies can overwhelm the particular feeling one gets when they've learned someone hasn't been plucked from their lives forever. As much as he wants to berate himself, to know more, to figure out what to do for her from many lightyears away, he has to cling to this feeling of hope, that this terrible news is not the most terrible that could have been told.]

Thank god.

I think it had less to do with God and more to do with -- with her strength. And yours, too.

[ which isn't a forceful secularist argument, exactly. but she doesn't want jarvis to mistake this for mere chance. he'd been so very strong in that waiting room. and ana, for her part, had fought through surgery and recovery with grace and aplomb. peggy hadn't been there when she'd woken, but hearing the relief in jarvis's voice had been gratifying enough.

she holds tightly onto his hand now. offers it a squeeze. the rest -- the consequences, and what it means for the future of his little family -- is something he doesn't need to hear from her. he'll live it. in time. ]

Mister Jarvis. I am so very sorry. [ ... ] None of this would have happened if I hadn't allowed you to get wrapped up in SSR business.

[He shakes his bowed head, as if to jar free her apology.]

... It was my choice.

[And despite his choice, despite how carefully he thought he treaded the line between his home life and his work life, something terribly intersected at some point in this case of Whitney Frost -- Ana had come in, aware of everything, aiding them, and he supposes she'd... she'd become part of it, too. What was he to do, deny her her aid when the mission was in her very living area? But -- God, he's not sure what should have been done differently; he just knows something should have. He needs to know the full story.

To berate himself, of course, but also to know.]

What happened? Please, Miss Carter, I -- I... What happened?

[The hand around hers squeezes, a desperate bid for her knowledge.]

...It was Frost. [ peggy doesn't honey the news. what use is there in tempering the hardest truth at the heart of it all? ] She and her goons came to take Doctor Wilkes and -- and Ana was shot. Whitney Frost shot her.

[ with each new word, she squeezes jarvis's hand. there is a slow and earnest empathy in peggy's eyes. there is nothing which cuts more deeply, she knows, than that panic of a loved one in crisis -- and you can't help them.

but she wants to skip over the blame, the anger, the revenge. she's quick to go on: ] Howard is further along than both of us. He assures me she's up and well. [ ... ] Don't hold his silence against him. I asked that he let me be the one to tell you.

[There is no doubt a familiar sort of darkness that grosses the lines of his face -- the gleam of his eyes -- when Whitney Frost is mentioned. No, not just mentioned, but verified as his number one enemy. He is a man of easy forgiveness, for many things. He is no stranger to being allied with people who had originally been out to get him -- the SSR was proof enough. But to go after his wife... it is the way to unwind that venomous coil in him, that capability of great anger and want for justice.

But it's all still too fresh to process. The look passes, and when she mentions Howard, he looks to her. Now, he looks tired. His eyes are wet and he looks defeated; there's no one here to focus that anger on, because Frost is not here. So he aims it inward, on himself, because he is partly to blame.

No matter how anyone else cuts it.

He has failed, in this future, as as a husband.]

I was supposed to protect her. I told her I would... keep her safe.

This isn't supposed to happen. I must've -- made some error, somewhere down the line.

[He's usually more careful than this. He's always careful about Ana's wellbeing.]

[ peggy knows precisely what that error is. she knows it as certainly as she knows the darkness that crosses his eyes. it's these bloody 'adventures' as he calls them. and peggy had since after called them larks. the argument sits stale and unhappy in the back of her throat. ]

Mister Jarvis. I am sincerely sorry I did not tell you sooner. [ only...how could she? given the nature of these last few months. given the conflict he doesn't yet know has happened. ]

But take heart that she is well and that you were there for her every step of her recovery. [ barring that vengeful detour, peggy knows. ]

[He shakes his head.]

No, It's fine. I mean, it's not... But it's not...

I'm... not sure how I would say... How to...

[He's having a hard time forming coherent thought, forgive him.

He doesn't seem to remember how to function at the moment.]

Hush. You needn't say anything. Not right now -- and certainly not to me.

[ she doesn't deserve such consideration after what's passed between the pair of them back home. peggy rises from her crouch, yes, but only so she can instead drop her hands firmly on jarvis's shoulders.

steady. supportive. ]

You don't have to stay here. At the bistro, that is. I can take you back to the Tourist.

[He nods weakly, his shoulders slouching under her touch.]

... I can't stay here. I'm just --

[He feels like he can't think; he feels his eyes burn again, just as he'd fought back control. This is no good -- he can't concern his crewmates, coming in so upset. He can't. He has work to do there, and he can't do it with their concern aimed at his back.]

... I don't want the Tourist to worry. Could I... I mean, if you don't mind, could I stay on the Starstruck? Just for the day; I'll be alright, if I can manage a day.

Edited 2017-11-13 09:08 (UTC)

...Of course.

[ she doesn't yet guide him onto his feet. peggy's certain he's not ready for it. instead, she chucks a finger under his chin and lifts his head up, up, up so that she might bring back a touch of poise. ]

You are always welcome aboard my ship, Mister Jarvis. No matter what the circumstances. Spend the night, if you like.

[He looks at her with a tired frown, though there's at least some recognition in his eyes other than that sort of dead, miserable stare -- recognition that she's trying her best to make this a bit easier.]

Thank you for -- telling me.

It wouldn't have been fair for her, if I... went along happily... not knowing.

IC contact. Drift Fleet.

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