A Little space to weep

[cat-13145.livejournal.com]

Title: A Little Space to Weep
Chapter: One: We shall not sleep
Pairing:  Wooster/OMC, Jeeves/Wooster in later chapters
Summary: There are some things Bertie can't talk about with Jeeves. Or what happened after Sir Roderick came to lunch
Rating: PG13?
Warnings: Reference to attempted suicide, and mental ill health. Also unbetaed, so if anyone would like to help.
Disclaimer: I wish I was talented enough to have created Jeeves and Wooster. But I'm not, they belong to P.G. Wodehouse's estate.
Edit: Now Betaed by erynn999.

 

Picture the scene, if you will, at a club in London.

Quiet and full of stuffy leather armchairs. Not the kind of place where you experience bowling with rolls, and where loud discussion of the cricket earns you a frown from over the top of the newspaper of the oldest member, Mycroft Holmes, who it is rumoured was alive when King Billy was on the throne.

Picture if you will, a large number of the brainiest birds in London sitting around, discussing interesting cases. In the centre of all these brainy birds, Sir Roderick Glossop sits. He is...well, one doesn’t like to say holding court, but that is effectively what it is, entertaining the masses and enjoying their admiration for escaping with life from Lunch with one Bertie Wooster.

“And then, if you please, He had the nerve, the gall to wear the hat he had snatched from my head in my presence.” Sir Roderick took a sip of his lemon squash. “The man was clearly a lunatic.”

The brainy birds make yes noise, suggesting various conditions that the aforementioned Wooster might be suffering from, when a voice rings out from the bar.

“Excuse me, but would you be speaking of Captain Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, late his majesty’s army?”

“I believe Wilberforce is the man’s middle name.” Glossop admitted.

“A clear sign of the instability of the parents.” Another brainy bird added.

“If,” The interuptee (if that is the word I want) continued ignoring second brainy bird, “You are referring to Captain Wooster, I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head, Sir Roderick. Captain Wooster is a hero of the War, the only survivor of his battalion and if he is a little eccentric, then it is only to be expected.”
“But keeping 23 Cats--”

The speaker folded his magazine with a sigh. “What of it? Where does it say in the English Psychology dictionary that a man is insane because he keeps cats, of any number? I had a great Aunt who kept 50 of the things and she was as sane as you or I.”

“But in his bed room!”

The speaker shrugged. “He was aware of your dislike of cats, yes? Perhaps he instructed his man to put them in there for the duration of your visit.”

“But the fish?”

The speaker shrugged again. “To try and keep the cats quiet. He wanted to avoid causing you distress.”

“And my hat?”

“Youthful high spirits.” This brainy cove got to his feet, folding up his newspaper. “We expect these young men to behave as adults, but forget that they are little more than boys.”

“Oh you’re not leaving are you Dr. Rivers?” one of the other brainy coves asked. Rivers frowned.

“You’ll forgive me, but I prefer to spend my leisure time in more open company.”

And so Dr. Rivers tootled off and Sir Roderick vanishes from our story.

I, of course, had no idea about this conversation, slipping away from Morpheus’s grasp into bed at 6A , as Jeeves was bustling in with the tea.

“Good morning sir.”

“Morning Jeeves.” Was I imagining things, or did he look a little concerned, as I took the cup. “Something the matter?”

“Well sir,” Jeeves sounded almost reluctant to answer, but with the knowledge that he had to. “A Doctor Rivers called while you were asleep, sir. He asked me to remind you that you are to meet him at four o’clock.”

Only years of practise stopped me spitting tea out all over the covers.  “Oh,” I said, putting it down. Nothing is worse for disguising shaking hands than a cup of tea. “He did, did he?”

“Yes sir.” There was a pause. “Sir, would this be Dr. William Rivers, the eminent nerves specialist?”

“I think that’s the chap, yes.” I shrugged, deliberately keeping it casual. “Aunt Dalia wanted me to see him. To prove to Aunt Agatha I’m not mad, wot?”

I laugh, being careful to stop any note of the hysteria I feel entering it. Jeeves is frowning, that way he does when he doesn’t believe me. For one awful moment I think he’s going to call me on it.

“Very good sir.”

*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

I entered River’s consulting rooms at four o’clock and glared at the man.

“That was a low trick, Rivers.”

River looked up from his paper work and raised an eyebrow.

“Given that you’ve missed your last nine appointments, I think it was a perfectly reasonable course of action.”

“But dash it all.” I said, throwing myself down into the chair next to the bed. “I thought we’d agreed this. I come and see you when I feel I need it, and you leave Bertram alone.”

Rivers put down his pen and turned to stare at me. His eyes are weak, so he has to wear glasses. Dashed convenient for him. You can’t look down at someone with paternal concern without them. Maybe that’s why all those brainy coves wear them.

“I ran into Sir Roderick Glossop at my club today.” He said, placing the lid on his pen. “He told me quite an interesting story,” as I groaned, Rivers continued, raising his voice. “About coming to dinner with you and finding 23 cats in your bedroom.”

“I’m not mad. And there were only 3.” I said, hating the desperate note in my voice.

“As I told you at the time, I agree with you, but it wouldn’t be the first time you had attempted...something of that nature.”

I frowned. “Dam it that was nearly 8 years ago.”

“And the anniversary was last week. Now please, roll up your sleeve.” At my raised eyebrow, he sighed. “Bertie, when I last examined you, your blood pressure was high. I just want to see if that is still the case.”

We both knew he was lying and it made me mad. Dash it all, I’d give my word that I wouldn’t try anything like again.

Frowning, I unbuttoned my shirt sleeve, and before he could say anything rolled up the other one.

The scars, high up on the arm near the wrist, caught the bare bulb of Rivers room, shining slightly. They’re hardly noticeable; indeed most days even I forget they are there. Then one evening they’ll catch the light and a sort of awkward hush settles on the room, as everyone tries to pretend they haven’t seen them.

Rivers didn’t even look at them, keeping the pretence of checking my blood pressure, as he wrapped the cuff around the arm.

“Hmm, higher than I’d like, but could just be stress. You mentioned nightmares the last time we were here. They still a problem?”

My mouth was open to deny it, but he just lifted his head to look at me.

“My god, Bertie you must be exhausted.”

I was cursing with all my heart. Had the paint smudged? Could Jeeves tell?

Sergeant White had been on the stage before joining the army and before his untimely end, he taught me a few tricks of the trade.

“Your mask is still in place, Bertie don’t worry about that.” Rivers said, straightening up. “But you’ve still got the same method of dealing with the nightmares you had at Cranborn. Shoving your fist into your mouth so the screams are muffled.” He lifted my right hand, turning it in the light, frowning. “These are pretty deep. What happened?”

I sigh. “Aunt Agatha summoned me to Cannes.”

“Cannes, France?”

“Yes.”

“Aaah.” I’m relieved he didn’t suggest like some many chaps would have that I could have refused to go. Then again, he’s met the aged relative. “Where the--”

“Yes.” I interrupted him before he can mention what happened there, because I don’t think I’m strong enough to discuss that leave.

Rivers nodded slowly. Thankfully he didn’t press the point. “I’ll clean them up before you leave.” He said his voice gently, which of course made me feel even worse. He held my hand in his, turning it examining the numerous small red marks that dot across it. “So the nightmares remain?”

I suddenly couldn’t summon the energy to deny it. Something about Rivers has always had that effect on me. I nodded.

“No better?”

At my head shake, he frowned. “Worse?”

I groaned, almost falling forward, letting the exhaustion wash over me. It’s so bloody hard maintaining the mask, especially around Jeeves.

“For how long?”

I sighed, knowing we’d come to the what’s it of the matter. “Two years.”

“Two years!” Rivers looked horrified. “For god’s sake, Bertie why didn’t you come and see me sooner?”

I shrugged, not really wanting to answer the question. I’m not going to pretend it was easy and lord only knows I’ve being tempted enough to drag myself here over the last two years, but there was no way of doing so with out Jeeves knowing, and I...I couldn’t put Jeeves through that.

“I thought they’d get better with time.”

“Indeed.” Rivers agreed, still frowning, “But getting worse after nearly 6 years of...relative relaxation is a cause for concern.”

I nearly laughed at his description.

Relative relaxation. If by that you meant I woke up about 3 times a night, drenched in sweat and shivering, as opposed to now, where I’ll get an hour’s sleep maybe before I’m awake searching the shadows of the bedroom for danger that’s dead and gone.

Almost at once I wished I hadn’t thought that phrase.

Rivers was looking at me, his head cocked to one side like a bird.

“What were you thinking Bertie?”

I shrugged and spoke, softly. “They were as bad as they were at...that place, before I...”

“Before you remembered?” Rivers was frowning at me, now like I was some very interesting specimen under his microscope. “What happened two years ago?”

“Nothing! Well, Jeeves came to me, I suppose.”

“Who is Jeeves?”

I gave him a hasty explanation of who Jeeves was and the incident of the cats. His frown was now more concerned, but his voice didn’t hold an n. of it, when he asked, “Do you talk about the war with Jeeves?”

“Good Lord no!”

“Why not?”

My temper, frayed to the limited by his behaviour finally snapped.
“Because he doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Suddenly, I couldn’t sit still any longer and I was on my feet pacing. “My god, is it too much to ask that there is one person in my life who doesn’t know what happened out there? Who doesn’t look at me like I need looking after or treat me like I’m an idiot?”

“Sounds like he thinks you need looking after of his own accord.” Rivers observed. His tone was disapproving, but at the same time I could see his point of view.

He’d never met Jeeves and all he knew of him was he was the bloke whose arrival coincides with Bertram’s worsening nightmares and seemed to be trying to send Wooster to the lunatic asylum.

“Dash it all, it’s different.” I sighed. “He doesn’t think I need to be m...m...m.”

I struggled, the word going right out of my head, Rivers held up his hand. “You think you might be on the verge of remembering something? Those last two hours?”

Two hours. Those missing two hours between hearing Hornsby breathe his last and coming to in Sur Le Mer, about to be transported back to blighty.

“I...” I hadn’t honestly given the matter much thought. “I suppose anything is possible, what?”

Rivers nodded. “Indeed. Now, we have three main options. First of which is continuing where we left off in 1918, namely talking and psychoanalysis, possibly with some bromides to help you sleep. The second,” he held up his hand to prevent my interruption. “Is hypnosis.”

I winced.

“You don’t like that as an idea?”

“Well to be perfectly frank, no.” I looked at him seriously. “The last time we tried hypnotism if you recall, I came around three days later in a straitjacket.”

“I’m somewhat inclined to agree.” Rivers said, with a slight smile. “You’ve been repressing these memories for quite a while. If we rely on hypnosis, we risk repressing them permanently.”

Would that be so bad? I almost asked, but then changed my mind. Rivers is a brainy bird and I supposed he knew best on this subject.

“There’s a third method that is gaining credence.” Rivers said, taking off his glasses and fussing with them. “Abreaction”

“Sounds like something Aunt Agatha might suggest.” I glanced at Rivers. “I take you don’t approve of this bird?”

“Not entirely. It is, I think, overly risky and in your case virtually impossible.”

“So we’re left with sleeping tablets?” I asked, trying not to sound so bucked up about the idea. Rivers frowned.

“I’m...reluctant to do so, Bertie. With your psychological history--”

“Oh Dash it all.” I snapped. “It was a long time ago and I made a pretty mess of you, as you yourself told me.”

If one is serious about such things, you should cut along the arm, not across as Rivers told me the next morning while he bandaged the Wooster extremities. Along with quite a strong lecture on the hurt I’d caused to his Caroline, though she wasn’t his at the time.

“But you’re not the one who has to face the coroner and admit you were aware of it, Bertie.” He straightened up, signaling that Bertram could dress if he so wished.

“Beyond that, the tablets are a short term measure. Your co operation would be required to recover the memories.” He replaced his glasses and stared at me.

I shivered slightly. I had no desire to visit that place again.

Rivers sighed. “Come and have dinner with me and Caroline. She’s worried about you, and you know she might be helpful in this matter.”

I paused. “I’ll need to ring up Jeeves.”

“Use the telephone here.” He led me through to his office, where the instrument sat

.

 

Comments

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

It's always fascinating to see stories where Bertie was actually in the war. I'm very interested in seeing where you'll take this, particularly seeing as it's going to be all slashy and whatnot. Color me interested indeed!

And really, I'm not so sure Jeeves doesn't already know, or at least suspect something. He's a sharp bird, that one.

ETA: You probably want to look at Bertie's apartment number. He's got it as 221B, which is a Holmes number. In canon he's either 6A or 3A, depending on whether you're books or TV.

[cat-13145.livejournal.com]

This is why I need a beta. I shoved 221B in while I went to go find the real flat number and forgot to go back and change it. Does so now.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

Send stuff to me. I'll do beta. This looks like an interesting ride. (I'll do this chapter, too, if you want.)

[cat-13145.livejournal.com]

THANK YOU!!!! Can I ask for an address, and I'll send you the first two chapters.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

send it to just_us_mice at yahoo dot com

[saylee.livejournal.com]

I'm very intrigued, and can't wait for more! I've got a bit of a weakness for Bertie with more issues than canon lets on, and for Bertie who fought in the war. I see you've already got a beta offer, or I would volunteer myself.

[epakelpo.livejournal.com]

Fascinating. I'll be reading (and wanting) more!

-B

[bahahumbug.livejournal.com]

Ohhh, very interesting! I can't wait to read more.

[coffee-n-retcon.livejournal.com]

Interesting start!

One question, the club at the beginning, where Mycroft Holmes is a member, is this the Diogenes Club? I thought no one was permitted to speak except in the visitor's room.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

That was a thing I noted in the beta notes I sent her. ;)

[baskervwatson.livejournal.com]

Very intriguing! I thought this was going to be a one-off, but reading the comments, I'm so glad you're writing it as a series! I really want to see what happens next!!! x

[backfrommars.livejournal.com]

Very interesting beginning. I can't wait to see where this goes!

Doctor Rivers - is he meant to be the actual Doctor Rivers?

[cat-13145.livejournal.com]

AHah I wondered if anyone would get that. No, though he is based on him. I tried calling him Richards, but it wouldn't work. He was already William in my head. I think he's led a slightly less interesting life than the original though.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

Did you ever get the email with my beta notes? I haven't heard back from you and was hoping they'd been at least a little useful. I can't wait to see more of the story.

[cat-13145.livejournal.com]

Yes, I got the email and even made the changes. Just have to get around to posting it now. Thanks for reminding me.

[erynn999.livejournal.com]

Oh, sweet! If you have any questions about any of it, please let me know. The shifting tense stuff, particularly, tends to be one of those "within the same scene" things rather than having to stick to one tense throughout an entire narrative.

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Very riveting! I'm looking forward to more!