IC Inbox - Entranceway

[directed]

Obviously I'm not here right now, but leave a message and I'll--listen to it. Eventually.

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[directed]

[He wonders what sort of judgments might be found in that singular word and the way it's shaped on her tongue. Hope along with all it implies, that indeed even Rip Hunter with all his cold logic and calculation is capable of such sentiment within this world. Certainly he would expect something along those lines before anything else; after all, they haven't fallen in bed together on the promise of being in love or otherwise emotionally attached. For all their talk of mutual importance, the first rule stated and agreed upon is that they would not be sweethearts.

Another word with oh so many judgments lurking beneath it's layers.

He doesn't expect her to understand. Few would, given that Gideon's existence is hardly human. It doesn't keep him from filling in the gap that she leaves unspoken, nor from realizing the truth of it. Out of all of his associates, Gideon is perhaps the last one he would expect to have met within this world.

Equally, she's the first he would hope wouldn't leave without him.]

It will likely come as no surprise when I say that as Time Masters, we were encouraged to keep our attachments to a minimum. [Marriage discouraged, forbidden between two of them. Children seen as a terrible mistake. It was extremely rare for a pair of Time Masters to work together on any given assignment; most whom Rip knew he knew only by reputation, and nothing more.]

Our partners instead were AIs: programs designed to operate major ship functions, and to aide us as needed with diagnostics and research and whatever else we might need. [Able to think and reason and learn, so much more than Rip had ever thought possible before he'd met the one who would become his constant companion.]

Gideon was mine, obviously. We'd been cohorts for well over a decade.

[And that is why it's odd, in the end. Even now, staring up at the ceiling, there is part of Rip that would expect Gideon to dim the lights without him even having to ask.]

[mucked]

[ something about the whole explanation sits foully with her. and she wishes she could say it was the bit about attachments being discouraged because that seems though it should be a rather human reaction -- but, truthfully, she can altogether too easily see the see the sense it makes. terrible, icy sense. but sense all the same. beyond that, peggy supposes she struggles to acknowledge how rip's explanation could ever amount to anything more than an operative going into the field with a rather impressive tool.

except -- except! -- peggy had met gideon. spoken to, saw, experienced. at outset glances, one might never anticipate the 'program' was anything but human. suspicions only settled in after a bit of conversation and careful observation. but by that point, she'd already been offered the explanation that even the body was an unanticipated vessel here in wonderland.

she breathes in. and just about manages to refrain from saying that it's a rather sad commentary on him that he speaks so fondly, so longingly, of something that wasn't really real. so far as peggy is concerned. perhaps she would have felt differently had she gotten to know gideon. although, repeated encounters with f.r.i.d.a.y. hasn't done much to make her appreciate that system.

-- and for all her bedtime reading, peggy would still struggle distinguishing between an artificial intelligence and a cable tv guide. for this reason and many others, she recognizes that she mightn't be the ideal candidate to support rip through this loss.

for one, she barely characterizes it as a loss. ]

I imagine that rather cut down on cases of cabin fever. [ unhelpful, carter. she takes a moment to frown. she tries again: ]

She -- [ she? ] -- and I met only twice and only briefly but...for what it's worth, I do believe the majority of us are better off not being here. Artificial intelligences included.

[ this is a conversation she'd never have imagined herself having before coming here. and for a great many reasons. but at least she knows what the letters a and i mean when they're jammed together. ]

[directed]

[He looks at her silently at her initial retort. Of course Rip is used to being in the presence of those who don't understand the way he considers Gideon, and just how real she truly is to him. Many Time Masters felt that way themselves, viewing their AIs as tools rather than partners, another part of the ship they were assigned to captain.

But Rip had gained a reputation among them for being unexpected--one that stood well-earned for a number of reasons.

Peggy continues on, and Rip recognizes her attempt for what it is. Perhaps not comfort, exactly, but the logical reminder of the truth of their situation. And she isn't wrong; very few can likely truly say they benefit from being present within this world.

He knows all this, and more. Gideon had confessed difficulty adjusting to her circumstances within Wonderland; in their world, she once more as she should be, rather than walking about as Rip has often imagined she might appear were she made manifest.]

The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief. [To find goodness in the tragedy that is Wonderland: Rip has come to believe that if they have but one power over this place, that might be it. And isn't that why his Wednesdays are filled as they are? He can endure this place and it's losses; he's known such hardship before.

Better for them all to be sent home, he thinks, even as he stretches out a hand to brush aside an errant lock of Peggy's hair.]

[mucked]

[ it had taken her a moment. first, to parse the line. and second to identify it. oh, its broader origins are obvious enough -- what schoolgirl or schoolboy doesn't grow to be intimately, agonizingly familiar with the cadence and fall of iambic pentameter?

(she might be surprised to learn that dusty old drama is no longer the staid presence in an adolescent's curriculum that it once was.)

but the academic exercise of identifying play and act and speaker is quickly aborted when -- quite off-script -- rip trespasses that funny little no man's land between their bodies. it was never surveyed and charted off by formal agreement, maybe, but there had persisted an unspoken understanding that here, afterwards, wasn't a time for idle affection.

peggy doesn't stop him. but she does watch him with a flicker of reproach. ]

Your quotation cuts both ways, you realize. [ she suspects he's trying to make some pretty argument about stripping wonderland of what little value it's got. not letting its amorphous powers-that-be rob them of what's good. peggy, meanwhile, makes it her business to make a far more prosaic argument. ] Because here you are -- robbed of something. Someone. And yet I don't see you smiling.

[ it's a rather obtuse observation. peggy knows it. sometimes, a smile isn't a smile at all -- but a heated and eager embrace, qualitatively different from the ones that came before it. harder and needier and with a more commanding grip than she'd come to expect. and, much like his smile (rare as it is), she wasn't disappointed in it. ]

[directed]

[She doesn't stop him, and that itself seems to open the door just that touch wider. Instead of merely brushing aside an errant lock Rip twirls the strands of hair about his fingers, toying with the shape of the curl that still remains even after their partnering has left her hair fussed and messy. It's a pleasant enough distraction while Peggy attempts to point out the flaw in his logic. Certainly she isn't wrong; Rip does not smile, not even then, despite the touch of amusement he finds in her words.

But Peggy isn't so incapable of deeper perceptions to not realize what's happened. After all, her observation of his actions earlier is what has brought them to this point.]

If you are so concerned about the state of my accounts, Miss Carter—then perhaps you can be persuaded to help balance them a bit further still. [She is still there, after all. Still beautiful and stunning and sharp-witted as she's always been. Once more Rip crosses that canyon between them, violating borders with deliberate intent as this time he kisses her. It's a dangerous proposal, he understands all too well—and yet isn't so much of their reasoning for these Wednesdays to separate themselves from the world beyond his door?

He would do so again, should she let him. The question is in the kiss now, slowly and deliberately asked.]

[mucked]

[ sod the playwrights; rip's words, his conceit of accounts unbalanced, better belongs to a carpe diem poem. his persuasion echoes that of herrick. or willis! only up until these last few seconds she'd thought she'd been the one ironically suggesting that one frown was enough. now she watches the rhetoric ricochet back, changed and drained of its irony.

he kisses her. and they've kissed before (and often) but never quite like this: with no space left for wits and different fires to stoke. peggy deflates, sinks forward, and ignores an explosive chorus of better angels that would shout her down if they could. truth is, she reads this new indiscretion as a mere continuation of what had already been different tonight. he's being that little bit more brazen -- pushing limits and taking liberties.

it's not the worst. at least he's got the good sense to keep it all carefully locked up beneath metaphor and abstraction. nothing gets said of sentiment or his sad heart -- nor anything else about how much he must miss old comrades. instead, things are once again a transaction. a negotiation.

-- so peggy returns it. his slow, deliberate kiss. although her hesitation had felt like an eternity inside her head, in reality it lasts all of two seconds. maybe three. she reaches for his neck and presses her palm there so afterward, after the first, she can hold him back from the second. ]

Rather depends. Are you after alms or after a loan?

[directed]

[It is indeed a limit pushed, but wrapped up in the sweetness of the kiss? Rip does not consider that those same limits can never be redrawn in quite the same fashion once they've been broken—certainly not so much as he likely should. Too lost is he in taking his measures from her lips, the slow and sweet kiss they share a fine continuation of unspoken thoughts, that if there is some measure to steal back from the robber baron ruling this land, he might well find it with her. Certainly he might lose himself to the press of her body as she shifts so much closer, allows him the opportunity to slip his hand down to her hip and tug her nearer still.

He might, except she asks a question of her own then. A fair one, in light of each selfish stroke Rip has painted the evening with.]

Never alms. [Never pity, because Rip does not seek charity from Peggy Carter. He refuses to let such a thing taint what they've found, to have it all become some matter of obligation somehow, that which needs must rather than what might be mutually enjoyed.

His forehead rests against hers. Rip shifts his gaze between each of her eyes, too close to look at her properly.]

A loan I can repay. [But isn't it a horrid promise to make! That he would make good on whatever debt he incurs, unless this world sees fit to send him away? The words catch in his throat then; he cannot make such a vow with any manner of honesty.

They both know this.

They both have suffered too much loss not to know.

And yet. And yet.]

Plus, I expect you'll keep after me until I do. [So he would stay, and so would she, until whatever they now barter for had been settled. It's a silly dream, a tragedy waiting to be written—a bad barter of the highest order. Yet somewhere between the ache of absence and the warm press of his skin to hers, Rip finds himself saying the words all the same.

His gaze turns downward; perhaps he should have picked pity after all. It would be fitting for the fool he's suddenly become.]

[mucked]

[ the kiss was nice, the kiss was good, the kiss could have turned the whole conversation around if it could have only stayed a kiss. and nothing more. peggy is left rudderless in its wake -- buffeted by inclement emotions and what she suspects (what she hopes) is merely rip's misplaced grief. if she could trust her own emotions to remain unconditional, she might have managed to swallow that unsettled feeling. she might have managed to stay and see him through his loneliness, like she did once before.

it wasn't personal, back then, but it certainly is now. peggy has built up her indifference to people departing as a kind of bulwark to her sanity -- something she's made no secret of, especially with rip. it's bad enough she lets herself look forward to next wednesday, and the next, and the next after that. she'd rather make her plans beyond a week, but here he is hinting at a longer timeline.

maybe it's her fault. maybe she should never have twisted the conversation down that particular corkscrew. a loan, indeed. peggy doesn't frown -- doesn't flinch -- but she doesn't go chasing his gaze either.

and when she speaks her voice is cool and careful. ]

I expect I will, yes. [ she agrees because it's easier. and she shuffles backwards, too, because it's easier. it's a slow and languid motion, no different from any other instance where she's slipped out of his bed and left him alone while she got dressed. she could have argued; she could have pointed out his mistake; she could have laughed. as callous as her flight seems on the surface, the truth is that she wouldn't be fleeing at all if she thought for a moment she had a leg to stand on in refuting his foolishness.

her evasion might actually be more revealing than her temper. she buttons her blouse and clips her stockings as though nothing's changed. if she works very very hard at it, nothing has. ]

[directed]

[He knows it's a mistake before the words even leave his mouth, and yet he speaks them all the same. Can it be any surprise, then, when Peggy gives answer and pulls away. Never mind the certainty offered in her words; actions have always mattered far more to her, and though her course is a gentle one Rip knows it's meaning all the same.

He does not blame her for it. He cannot. And equally, he makes no effort to stop her when she abandons her place of rest in favor of chasing down stray clothing, of perching herself on the edge of the bed while she rearranges the buttons on her blouse and the clips on her garters, and all the other pieces Rip sees undone each time she wanders into his room.

He stands in violation of their agreement. Not sweethearts she'd said from the start, and here he's gone letting sentiment carry him away.

He watches her back while she dresses, props himself up on an elbow to do so. This mistake is his; to compound it by taking apart the full meaning of her choice now would be greater folly than he can afford to entertain. Even so, part of him can't help but piece it together, to know by observation alone what it means when she withdraws. He's seen it before, of course. During the event that led to their consummation when she asked him to leave, the Wednesday that followed when she hadn't shown up at his door like so many weeks before.

If she doesn't show up this time, could he even bring himself to chase her?

Her temper would be easier to bear in so many ways. Instead, Rip merely leans over the edge of the bed, fishes up her knickers from where they'd landed, holds them out for her to take.

All of this, in silence.]