A Home Is Not A House (5/5)
Title: A Home Is Not A House (or, five times the ARC was more than just a place to work.)
Rating: T
Characters: Emily Merchant, Matt Anderson
Word Count: 888
Warning: none
Summary: She couldn't survive in these environs, and it was a sickeningly helpless feeling that made her stomach turn.
5: A Place to Restart
Emily sat down gingerly on the end of the bed that was, for the time being, hers. She felt very...odd. Yes, odd was a suitable word. As if her world had somehow adjusted itself upon its axis without first giving her fair warning, and her sense of equilibrium had consequently unbalanced.
She had been wandering through the gateways for months now, with Charlotte and Ethan and the others of their tribe, and yet she never would have imagined that she would ever end up in a place as strange and as wondrous as this one. And it was now apparently to be her home. Permanently, if a gateway to her own time never resurfaced.
Looking down at her lap, she twined her fingers and twisted the wedding band upon her left hand. Whilst she could very easily see herself going the rest of her life without ever laying eyes upon Henry Merchant again...how could she stay here? How could she ever hope to integrate herself into a society where the things that she considered to be proper and right, ingrained in her since birth, were now considered the outdated, antiquated beliefs of a bygone era? How could she hope to fit into this strange and baffling time? In her own time, she was called rebellious, too outspoken and free-thinking for her own good, and it was often said that she needed the firm guidance of a man to remind her of her place in the world. But now she was called uptight, and the idea that her actions needed be dictated by a man was laughable to say the very least.
Emily lowered her head with a sigh, shoulders sagging as she slouched in a most unladylike manner. At least she would never have to suffer through wearing corsets and petticoats again, torture cleverly disguised as propriety. Women could even wear trousers now, and oh, what her mother would say if she ever saw Emily in a pair.
She couldn't possibly stay...but where else could she go? Those of the ARC would not allow her to simply walk out of the door and risk revealing the secret of the gateways to others. And even if they did, she had no prospects here. She couldn't survive in these environs, and it was a sickeningly helpless feeling that made her stomach turn. She pressed one hand over her eyes, wishing that when she took her hand away, she would be back amongst the tribe, Charlotte would still be living, and Ethan would not be completely mad with his own grief.
Instead, a light knock on the door made her startle and let out a most undignified yelp. "Enter," she called after a moment's pause, composing herself.
The door cracked open, and it was Matthew who stood on the other side. "May I come in, Emily?" he asked courteously, standing outside of the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. Were he dressed differently, he would very much resemble one of the young gentlemen who came asking for dances at the Autumn Ball.
"You may," she agreed.
He came in; after a moment's contemplation, he moved to sit on the end of the bed next to her, though not so close as to touch. "Emily..." He paused, a crease appearing between his brows. "I know that this has to be difficult for you, and I'm sorry. I hate keeping you here like a prisoner, but I hope you understand why we have to do this."
"I would undoubtedly get into a great deal of trouble outside these walls than I would within them," Emily offered.
He winced slightly but nodded. "That's the general idea, aye. But, listen, I've been speaking with Lester." He didn't mention Burton, and she was grateful for it. "The odds of an anomaly leading back to your time aren't exactly in your favour, so you'll likely have to stay here. So...if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to help you. Adjusting to a change like this seems impossible, I know, but - "
"Do you know, Matthew?" she asked softly.
To her surprise, he reached out and laid his hand over hers. "More than you might imagine. And it's just Matt. And trying to adapt to this place does look impossible, but it can be done. If you allow us to help you, of course. And we will, all of us. Even Becker."
Emily took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked around the small room in the ARC. If it was to be her home for now, then she may very well make the best of it. The others were willing to teach her, and perhaps with their assistance, she would not be trapped for long. She could adapt. She had done so before, and in far worse conditions than this. Suddenly, the idea of learning this strange new world, where she could be her own person without the need for a husband or a father to tell her how to live, did not seem quite so terrifying as it had before.
Turning her head, she offered him a small smile. "I believe that I will take you up on that offer...Matt."
Rating: T
Characters: Emily Merchant, Matt Anderson
Word Count: 888
Warning: none
Summary: She couldn't survive in these environs, and it was a sickeningly helpless feeling that made her stomach turn.
5: A Place to Restart
Emily sat down gingerly on the end of the bed that was, for the time being, hers. She felt very...odd. Yes, odd was a suitable word. As if her world had somehow adjusted itself upon its axis without first giving her fair warning, and her sense of equilibrium had consequently unbalanced.
She had been wandering through the gateways for months now, with Charlotte and Ethan and the others of their tribe, and yet she never would have imagined that she would ever end up in a place as strange and as wondrous as this one. And it was now apparently to be her home. Permanently, if a gateway to her own time never resurfaced.
Looking down at her lap, she twined her fingers and twisted the wedding band upon her left hand. Whilst she could very easily see herself going the rest of her life without ever laying eyes upon Henry Merchant again...how could she stay here? How could she ever hope to integrate herself into a society where the things that she considered to be proper and right, ingrained in her since birth, were now considered the outdated, antiquated beliefs of a bygone era? How could she hope to fit into this strange and baffling time? In her own time, she was called rebellious, too outspoken and free-thinking for her own good, and it was often said that she needed the firm guidance of a man to remind her of her place in the world. But now she was called uptight, and the idea that her actions needed be dictated by a man was laughable to say the very least.
Emily lowered her head with a sigh, shoulders sagging as she slouched in a most unladylike manner. At least she would never have to suffer through wearing corsets and petticoats again, torture cleverly disguised as propriety. Women could even wear trousers now, and oh, what her mother would say if she ever saw Emily in a pair.
She couldn't possibly stay...but where else could she go? Those of the ARC would not allow her to simply walk out of the door and risk revealing the secret of the gateways to others. And even if they did, she had no prospects here. She couldn't survive in these environs, and it was a sickeningly helpless feeling that made her stomach turn. She pressed one hand over her eyes, wishing that when she took her hand away, she would be back amongst the tribe, Charlotte would still be living, and Ethan would not be completely mad with his own grief.
Instead, a light knock on the door made her startle and let out a most undignified yelp. "Enter," she called after a moment's pause, composing herself.
The door cracked open, and it was Matthew who stood on the other side. "May I come in, Emily?" he asked courteously, standing outside of the doorway with hands clasped behind his back. Were he dressed differently, he would very much resemble one of the young gentlemen who came asking for dances at the Autumn Ball.
"You may," she agreed.
He came in; after a moment's contemplation, he moved to sit on the end of the bed next to her, though not so close as to touch. "Emily..." He paused, a crease appearing between his brows. "I know that this has to be difficult for you, and I'm sorry. I hate keeping you here like a prisoner, but I hope you understand why we have to do this."
"I would undoubtedly get into a great deal of trouble outside these walls than I would within them," Emily offered.
He winced slightly but nodded. "That's the general idea, aye. But, listen, I've been speaking with Lester." He didn't mention Burton, and she was grateful for it. "The odds of an anomaly leading back to your time aren't exactly in your favour, so you'll likely have to stay here. So...if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to help you. Adjusting to a change like this seems impossible, I know, but - "
"Do you know, Matthew?" she asked softly.
To her surprise, he reached out and laid his hand over hers. "More than you might imagine. And it's just Matt. And trying to adapt to this place does look impossible, but it can be done. If you allow us to help you, of course. And we will, all of us. Even Becker."
Emily took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked around the small room in the ARC. If it was to be her home for now, then she may very well make the best of it. The others were willing to teach her, and perhaps with their assistance, she would not be trapped for long. She could adapt. She had done so before, and in far worse conditions than this. Suddenly, the idea of learning this strange new world, where she could be her own person without the need for a husband or a father to tell her how to live, did not seem quite so terrifying as it had before.
Turning her head, she offered him a small smile. "I believe that I will take you up on that offer...Matt."