[Theatrical Muse] Response
Mar. 16th, 2008 02:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
his_sarah_jane Sleeping on the couch.
She had stormed out of the bedroom that night, angry and in tears. Behind her, she could hear protests: words of anger followed by words of reconciliation followed by more words of anger. She had ignored them all. Absolutely furious, Sarah Jane Bond was. She had slammed the door behind her, loud enough to shake some of the books on a nearby shelf. Loud enough, also, to wake the sleeping five month old downstairs. Valerie’s cries had pierced Sarah’s heart. But as angry as she was, she couldn’t be bothered. James could deal with her. After all, Valerie was just as much his daughter as she was Sarah’s.
Tears had continued to blur her vision as she grabbed a blanket from a cupboard. She wiped at them feverishly as she stumbled down the stairs. Sarah couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to him that night. A part of her had wondered if she could ever bring herself to sleep next to him again. A man who accused her of such… of such things. A year: was that all this marriage had to it?
Upstairs, the baby still cried. She could hear two doors slam in short succession. Soon after, the crying stopped. For Valerie, anyway.
In the parlor by the front door to the townhouse, Sarah Jane made her bed on the couch. She pushed one of the day pillows against an arm. Then she collapsed on top of it, wrapping the blanket around her. As she stared at the quiet fireplace, her tears continued. The row hadn’t been their first. No, that very first one had been when they were only friends. Their second, or their first as a couple, had come a couple of months into their marriage. The pregnancy had stressed and stretched them much further than she thought.
Valerie had reconciled that one. Her birth had been a healing balm for the Smith-Bond family. Now, Sarah caught herself wondering if it was just the eye in the storm.
He had been in Milliways earlier. Somehow, someway, he had found out about a certain kiss that had occurred during the pub’s winter holiday season. It had been under the mistletoe. She was nearly nine months pregnant. His doppelganger, another James Bond from another universe, had been hard to resist. In the end, they had remained friends. Sarah Jane loved her husband far too much.
But said husband wouldn’t listen to her. She told him again and again that it meant nothing. That she had been angry with him at the time (he hadn’t been around, moving out to a hotel and spending his days avoiding her until their next row, which had nearly became violent). It had been before the slow healing process. It was a bloody, fucking kiss under the mistletoe.
And he was fucking jealous of something that meant nothing. Sarah Jane didn’t even know if she would ever see that James again. He had left to go back to his own world. Perhaps that was what allowed her husband entry to the pub again. Maybe all this was a big mistake.
She gave up her world for him.
She gave up the Doctor for him.
Anger still ate at her as she curled her knees to her chest and finally closed her eyes. The tears stained her cheeks as she began to drift off. The sleep was unpleasant, the couch only designed for short naps or lounging. Every now and then, she thought she had been awoken by Valerie’s shouts or a door closing.
When she awoke in the morning, Sarah Jane knew she could never sleep on that couch again. She’d bloody well move out first. That couch now held too many demons. All she wanted was to apologise. But Sarah knew herself to be too stubborn to actually do so. Instead, she found herself clutching the blanket tighter as she stared at the fireplace. Someone was awake. She could smell the freshly brewed tea from the kitchen. James wasn’t a huge fan. And, as it was weekend, there was no reason for May to be here.
At a loss, she did the only thing she could do. Sarah pulled herself from the bed, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as a cloak. The nightgown was warm enough but she needed the comfort. Quietly, she tiptoed down another flight of stairs to the kitchen.
He was awake, moving about the kitchen in his boxers. So was Valerie, happily sitting in her high chair and making a mess of her banana mush breakfast, more of it on her pajamas than in her mouth. The spoon in her grasp was flinging food everywhere. From her position, blending against the dining room wall, she could see bits fling on to James’ blond hair. He wiped a splatter from his cheek, leaving the kettle to attend to the girl. Carefully, he took the spoon from her and began feeding Valerie her breakfast.
It made Sarah smile despite how angry she still was at James. This was, she supposed, what a family was about. Regardless, she couldn’t find the will to move away from the wall. It was James who had the first word, fifteen minutes later. She could not tell how long he had noticed her standing there. When he had begun to approach, somehow balancing Valerie in one arm and a mug in the other hand, she found herself frozen to the spot. His blue eyes were indistinguishable.
She was more frightened than she had been for a while.
“We were going to wake you,” he spoke quietly, almost barely audible above Valerie’s happy squeals at seeing her mummy. “I’ve slept on that couch before. It isn’t a pleasant experience.”
“No,” Sarah Jane agreed, her face and emotions guarded. If this was just leading to another row… she didn’t know if she could handle that. “It isn’t.”
He held out the tea mug to her. It took her a beat to accept it, but she did. Sarah took a small sip and smiled again. Earl Grey, with just enough milk and sugar. After all this time of living together, he had finally gotten it right.
“Darling, I…” James ran a hand through his hair, frowning a little when coming across banana bits. He was just as lousy at apologies as she was. She knew that. “No more kissing men that aren’t me. Even if they are in some damned Milliways way – that doesn’t count, Sarah. Even if we weren’t…”
She could hear the hesitation in his voice. She could hear the underlying message and fear. What if she found an attractive, stable man that could offer her more of a life? What if she left him for that? All the what ifs that never got vocalized. But they were there, as much as those of her own. What if he grew bored of being a father and a husband? Then what?
It was a bloody ridiculous marriage they had found themselves in a year ago. Neither of them were ready, let alone with a child on the way.
Watching him awkwardly try to apologise, Sarah remembered just again how worth it this all was.
So she nodded and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “No more kissing men if not work related. I understand, James.”
His expression turned from rueful and serious to perplexed within instants. Sarah raised an eyebrow and smiled impishly. “As I’m not exactly in the same line of career as you are, I doubt it’ll ever come up. Still, fair is fair.”
“Not in this case,” he answered, sweeping her into a one armed hug. Valerie reached for Sarah’s hair, eyes still alight with joy. “No,” James began before kissing her, “more,” kiss, “James’.”
“And no,” kiss, “more,” kiss, “couches,” Sarah Jane agreed, finally resting her forehead against his. “Not for years.”
[ooc: based on events in milliways_bar]
She had stormed out of the bedroom that night, angry and in tears. Behind her, she could hear protests: words of anger followed by words of reconciliation followed by more words of anger. She had ignored them all. Absolutely furious, Sarah Jane Bond was. She had slammed the door behind her, loud enough to shake some of the books on a nearby shelf. Loud enough, also, to wake the sleeping five month old downstairs. Valerie’s cries had pierced Sarah’s heart. But as angry as she was, she couldn’t be bothered. James could deal with her. After all, Valerie was just as much his daughter as she was Sarah’s.
Tears had continued to blur her vision as she grabbed a blanket from a cupboard. She wiped at them feverishly as she stumbled down the stairs. Sarah couldn’t bring herself to sleep next to him that night. A part of her had wondered if she could ever bring herself to sleep next to him again. A man who accused her of such… of such things. A year: was that all this marriage had to it?
Upstairs, the baby still cried. She could hear two doors slam in short succession. Soon after, the crying stopped. For Valerie, anyway.
In the parlor by the front door to the townhouse, Sarah Jane made her bed on the couch. She pushed one of the day pillows against an arm. Then she collapsed on top of it, wrapping the blanket around her. As she stared at the quiet fireplace, her tears continued. The row hadn’t been their first. No, that very first one had been when they were only friends. Their second, or their first as a couple, had come a couple of months into their marriage. The pregnancy had stressed and stretched them much further than she thought.
Valerie had reconciled that one. Her birth had been a healing balm for the Smith-Bond family. Now, Sarah caught herself wondering if it was just the eye in the storm.
He had been in Milliways earlier. Somehow, someway, he had found out about a certain kiss that had occurred during the pub’s winter holiday season. It had been under the mistletoe. She was nearly nine months pregnant. His doppelganger, another James Bond from another universe, had been hard to resist. In the end, they had remained friends. Sarah Jane loved her husband far too much.
But said husband wouldn’t listen to her. She told him again and again that it meant nothing. That she had been angry with him at the time (he hadn’t been around, moving out to a hotel and spending his days avoiding her until their next row, which had nearly became violent). It had been before the slow healing process. It was a bloody, fucking kiss under the mistletoe.
And he was fucking jealous of something that meant nothing. Sarah Jane didn’t even know if she would ever see that James again. He had left to go back to his own world. Perhaps that was what allowed her husband entry to the pub again. Maybe all this was a big mistake.
She gave up her world for him.
She gave up the Doctor for him.
Anger still ate at her as she curled her knees to her chest and finally closed her eyes. The tears stained her cheeks as she began to drift off. The sleep was unpleasant, the couch only designed for short naps or lounging. Every now and then, she thought she had been awoken by Valerie’s shouts or a door closing.
When she awoke in the morning, Sarah Jane knew she could never sleep on that couch again. She’d bloody well move out first. That couch now held too many demons. All she wanted was to apologise. But Sarah knew herself to be too stubborn to actually do so. Instead, she found herself clutching the blanket tighter as she stared at the fireplace. Someone was awake. She could smell the freshly brewed tea from the kitchen. James wasn’t a huge fan. And, as it was weekend, there was no reason for May to be here.
At a loss, she did the only thing she could do. Sarah pulled herself from the bed, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as a cloak. The nightgown was warm enough but she needed the comfort. Quietly, she tiptoed down another flight of stairs to the kitchen.
He was awake, moving about the kitchen in his boxers. So was Valerie, happily sitting in her high chair and making a mess of her banana mush breakfast, more of it on her pajamas than in her mouth. The spoon in her grasp was flinging food everywhere. From her position, blending against the dining room wall, she could see bits fling on to James’ blond hair. He wiped a splatter from his cheek, leaving the kettle to attend to the girl. Carefully, he took the spoon from her and began feeding Valerie her breakfast.
It made Sarah smile despite how angry she still was at James. This was, she supposed, what a family was about. Regardless, she couldn’t find the will to move away from the wall. It was James who had the first word, fifteen minutes later. She could not tell how long he had noticed her standing there. When he had begun to approach, somehow balancing Valerie in one arm and a mug in the other hand, she found herself frozen to the spot. His blue eyes were indistinguishable.
She was more frightened than she had been for a while.
“We were going to wake you,” he spoke quietly, almost barely audible above Valerie’s happy squeals at seeing her mummy. “I’ve slept on that couch before. It isn’t a pleasant experience.”
“No,” Sarah Jane agreed, her face and emotions guarded. If this was just leading to another row… she didn’t know if she could handle that. “It isn’t.”
He held out the tea mug to her. It took her a beat to accept it, but she did. Sarah took a small sip and smiled again. Earl Grey, with just enough milk and sugar. After all this time of living together, he had finally gotten it right.
“Darling, I…” James ran a hand through his hair, frowning a little when coming across banana bits. He was just as lousy at apologies as she was. She knew that. “No more kissing men that aren’t me. Even if they are in some damned Milliways way – that doesn’t count, Sarah. Even if we weren’t…”
She could hear the hesitation in his voice. She could hear the underlying message and fear. What if she found an attractive, stable man that could offer her more of a life? What if she left him for that? All the what ifs that never got vocalized. But they were there, as much as those of her own. What if he grew bored of being a father and a husband? Then what?
It was a bloody ridiculous marriage they had found themselves in a year ago. Neither of them were ready, let alone with a child on the way.
Watching him awkwardly try to apologise, Sarah remembered just again how worth it this all was.
So she nodded and gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “No more kissing men if not work related. I understand, James.”
His expression turned from rueful and serious to perplexed within instants. Sarah raised an eyebrow and smiled impishly. “As I’m not exactly in the same line of career as you are, I doubt it’ll ever come up. Still, fair is fair.”
“Not in this case,” he answered, sweeping her into a one armed hug. Valerie reached for Sarah’s hair, eyes still alight with joy. “No,” James began before kissing her, “more,” kiss, “James’.”
“And no,” kiss, “more,” kiss, “couches,” Sarah Jane agreed, finally resting her forehead against his. “Not for years.”
[ooc: based on events in milliways_bar]
