Fic: Unspoken Words
Sep. 11th, 2008 10:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
emeraldreeve.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
indeedsir_backupUnspoken Words
Author: Emerald
Rating:Mature.
Disclaimer: Wodehouse owns Jeeves and Bertie. I make no profit from this story.
Warnings: Implied slash. Angst.
Beta: Purplefluffycat Thank you for the careful beta'ing and all the wonderful additions!
The morning after the rummy incident with the bicycle ride, I woke earlier than I wanted to with an ache in the old Wooster chest. For a brief second, I didn't remember the reason for that ache, but then memory rushed in to wallop me over the head.
Jeeves and I were in the middle of a bally battle. No, that wasn't exactly right. Truth was that Jeeves believed he had won, and that I would be soothed into submission as I had been in the past. I had no intention of being s. into s. this time, though - no more than a charging bull intends to take notice of a polite sign asking passers by not to cross into the next field. We Woosters have our pride, you know, and mine had been trodden on for far too long.
Anger and hurt swelled within me like some sort of subterranean volcano, and abandoning all hope of sleep, I threw the blankets off the frame. I didn't want to wait for Jeeves to come and choose my clothes for the day. I grabbed whatever came to my reach, not caring if Jeeves became pipped at my choices later.
It was the work of a moment to drape myself and slip quietly down the stairs. I had told Jeeves the night before that I was returning to the metrop. this morning, but just sneaking off felt rummy. Therefore, I turned aside to a drawing room and hastily wrote out a note to Jeeves. Hearing Seppings in the hall, I made the note short and hurried out to give it to him. I put the paper on the tray Seppings was taking upstairs. “Give this to Jeeves, will you, old chap?”
It was quick, but I caught the fleeting expression on Seppings’ dial that said that he wished to speak to the young master, but didn't feel it was his place. “What is it?” I asked.
“It is hardly my place, sir, but perhaps Mr. Jeeves forgot that I had given him a key.”
“Jeeves never forgets anything.”
Seppings nodded, sadly, and said, “I will deliver the message to him, sir.”
I left the house and took a train to the city. Arriving at our flat, I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts tumbling over themselves and constantly bouncing into my heart, which had its own opinions and complaints - as bruised tickers so often do. One thing my mind and heart agreed upon was that I had been wronged, and I was not ready to forgive and go on. Once Jeeves was home, he would no doubt find a way to make sure that matters went on as before with us, but we definitely needed to chat.
Yet I doubted I could talk. I'd open my mouth, and hurt and anger would pour out like a deluge. I'd sink us both under a wave of resentment and drown the relationship, like some poor little creature adrift in the middle of a great flood. I’d always wondered what had happened to no. 3 rhino or birdie or heffalump or what-have-you that Noah didn’t take along with him, but I doubt it was pretty, and I definitely didn’t want any sort of feelings re. self and Jeeves to end up like that. Anyway, I digress. I needed to be away from Jeeves for a while. I needed time to think.
As I began to make my plans for an escape to France, words from a conversation with Jeeves began to pound my ears. I had stated my love for him, and he had declared love for the young master. It wasn't smooth sailing from there, though, as neither was sure that the other was sure, if you see what I mean.
Jeeves had asked me: Are you certain of your feelings, sir? They are not similar to the emotions you held for Miss Wickham that vanished as soon as you disapproved of her actions?
“It's not the same,” I answered, furiously, to the miserable flat.
Once the reservations were made, I dashed off a note to Jeeves, and left the apartment.
I then took a long stroll through the park, my emotions going back and forth like a donkey on the beach, from anger over the bicycle ride and Jeeves' manipulation of self to hurt over the mess jacket and his so-called ‘joke'. I parked my person down on a bench and tried to sort through the tumbled mess in the old lemon.
I was pipped about the mess jacket. Even the thought of it flitting through the bean brought a surge of bitterness. Perhaps Jeeves truly considered me mentally negligible, and thought I believed that he had accidentally scorched the jacket. I may be a dimwit, but it was a bit thick to assume that I couldn't see through that lie.
Like marbles tossed across the floor, my musings began to scatter in all directions. Lies. Jeeves had lied to me more than once, and I was ready to blow a fuse over it. Cannes. He didn't seem to mind being parted from his master, whereas I ... You need him more than he needs you, my mind whispered. What does he need you for, anyway? He doesn't even mind lonely beds. The bicycle ride. The idea of the young master being hurt was funny to him.
Tortured by my own thoughts, I stood up and began to walk, my feet taking me goodness-knows-where.
Predictably enough, though, I ended up at the Drones where I spent the afternoon playing cards. The evening was lost in a haze as I went to club after club and tried to quiet the pain with no small amount of gin and an equally generous portion of scotch. The anguish would not be quenched however, and the memory of Jeeves' question about my love for him floated around in the old lemon so much that when I walked home, I was uncertain if I was blotto or seasick.
As I wobbled up the avenue to our home, I argued with the Jeeves in the old onion. This was about the young master being stepped on. It was about empty beds, scorched clothes, socks thrown away, edited faces, jokes, and being treated like a fool. If anyone's love occasionally took a swim, it wasn't mine. I didn't help myself to Jeeves' clothes and toss out what I didn't like. I didn't burn his shirts or tell him how his face should look. For a brief second, the thought of slugging some of Jeeves' clothes out a window and then joking about it seemed funny. That thought was chased away by the certainty that I would find the results of such actions dashed rummy, though.
The floor at the flat seemed determined to roll, and I stumbled into the drawing room, where I stopped to catch my breath. My eyes, which had been having some trouble focusing, suddenly decided to inflict pain on the Wooster person. They fastened on the hall that led to Jeeves' lair. I knew that his door would be open, and that I would be welcomed in his den; if only so he could, once more, submerge my hurt and cause me to submerse it so deeply that it would be months before it slapped us in the face again. I turned away and tottered into my bedroom.
Nothing wanted to work for me that night. The floor continued to roll, the table shifted when I tried to drop my tie on it, and Jeeves had pushed the bed so it was no longer in its rightful place. My clothes fought with me, and I was in a struggle with my jacket, when I realised that the blur at the door was Jeeves.
“Don't just stand there, Jeeves. Can't you see I am losing the battle with this bally coat, what?” It seemed the most natural thing in the world to say, despite my earlier resolutions.
As his hands, steady and sure, helped me, I tried to explain how my clothes had attached themselves to the Wooster person and wouldn’t let go.
Once in bed, I started to tell Jeeves that despite it all Bertram Wooster still loved him, but sleep dragged me under its blanket, and I knew no more until morning.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************
This is a companion story to my A Rift in the Lute. That story is here:
http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=emeraldreeve&keyword=My+Stories&filter=all
I'm not posting A Rift again, but I am going to make some major changes in that story. With each chapter of Unspoken Words that is posted, a revised chapter of A Rift will be posted at my memories. Chapter 1 has been edited. The reason for all this is because I have thought for some time that A Rift needs more depth-that I only skimmed the issues. I was reluctant to make changes because it will mean more talk between Jeeves and Wooster, and talk can be boring. However, in discussing Right Ho, Jeeves with ironicbees I have been encouraged to cover the issues I felt were left untouched in A Rift. ironicbees has been more than a friend to me, she has encouraged and inspired me. She has helped me see the characters better. Besides for the fabulous art she has given this community, she is responsible for the ideas for my The Kindness of Bertie Wooster, and I believe my WWII story has greatly benefited from our emails. I also owe a very special thank you to purplefluffycat who accepted this story to beta, and is beta'ing the changes in A Rift. Her touch has made this chapter 100% better. She has taken my weak Bertie voice and uplifted and strengthened it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 07:38 am (UTC)About the changes you're making to Rift: I'm eager for more talk! I love their discussions, on any subject.
*is very humbled by your tribute* Thank you very much! I'm honored to have been of any help to you. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 08:29 am (UTC)I'm hoping that I'll find a way to divide all that talk into two. This chapter is just the start of the issues. As we've discussed there's a lot to be dealt with.
You help me immensely, my friend! Hugs.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 08:09 am (UTC)*giggles*
I love this, and I think it's a brilliant idea to work on the stories-not that they weren't good, but I sense they will get better. I'm off to re-read chap 1 then! *squee*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 08:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 05:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-12 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 05:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 01:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 08:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-14 07:39 am (UTC)I started writing the second chapter tonight.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-17 12:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-18 06:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-22 10:32 am (UTC)