WHO: Stella Gibson
WHERE: The fountain/Peggy and Stella's house/the woods
WHEN: 13th-14th March; Stella disappeared from the village on the 10th and returned on the 13th.
OPEN TO: Two locked sections and one open section, all labeled below
WARNINGS: Spoilers for series 3 of The Fall. Mentions of male-on-female violence, suicide, possibly more — will update as needed.

take what the water gave me

13th march ; the fountain ; locked to Kate Kelly

On one early morning, Stella Gibson vanishes. At first, it might be simple enough to excuse as a jaunt into the woods or over to the other village, which she's done before; but as several days go by, it becomes clearer something else is going on. Those who are close to her, or who at least know her routines, come to realize she's actually, truly gone.

On the fourth day, however, there's movement in the fountain, a stirring in the water and the splash of someone surfacing from the depths. For a long, breathless moment, Stella is totally, completely disoriented. Five minutes ago, she was cleaning out her office at the Down Serious Crime Suite after the total collapse of her investigation, and the leap of logic required to take her from there to a fountain in the middle of nowhere in that space of time is nothing less than impossible. There's a second of genuine panic as she doesn't recognize her surroundings or the circumstances that brought her here or any of it— and then it comes back to her all at once, the reorientation of a person waking up in an unfamiliar place suddenly remembering where she is and what brought her here, and oh, fuck.

Stella swims over to the side of the fountain and just... stops, lays her arm on the broad stone rim and puts her head down on it. That brief moment of panic had been the first thing she'd really felt in days — although has it really been that long? It seems like she hasn't seen the village for weeks, but for all she knows it's been no time at all here. It's too much for her to try to sort through right now. Somewhere underneath the numb haze she's been in since Paul Spector committed suicide is a roiling torrent of emotion — fury, grief, exhaustion — that she knows she has to let herself feel sooner or later, but right now she can't deal with any of it.

She hasn't got out of the fountain yet, partly because the water at least is something reassuring, familiar, and partly because she's working up the energy to haul herself out when her left side is a mess of half-healed bruises and even swimming up to the surface had pulled at sore muscles. She knows her face is not any better, and she's probably going to get concerned questions, but there's not a lot that can be done about that. Nothing except time will heal the marks of one of the last things Spector did before he killed himself, his one and only attempt at revenge taken out on the woman who forced him to show his true colors beyond a shadow of a doubt.

There's the sound of footsteps nearby, and Stella finally picks her head up from where she'd been resting it on her arm. "I'm fine," she manages, before she even sees who it is. The words ring hollow, of course. She's not fine, and she knows it's obvious that she's not, but the reflexive attempt to brush off any impending offers of help had come out anyway.

pockets full of stones

13th march ; house 13 ; locked to Peggy Carter

Eventually, later in the day, she goes back home. Home is somewhat of a misnomer, because home is London, and fuck she just wants to be back in her own flat in Crouch End so badly she can taste it — but she's not been allowed that luxury. Instead she's been yanked back here, where the observers can continue whatever ridiculous fucking game they've been playing with her and the other people trapped in this place. It's just adding insult to injury, and yet she doesn't even have the wherewithal to be angry about it right now.

But the house she shares with Peggy is the closest thing she's got to a home here, and at the moment she needs even this small familiarity. She comes through the front door and just stops for several moments in the front hall, looking around her. Everything is more or less in the same place it was when she'd left. She goes into the living room, and only then calls out for her housemate.

"Peggy?" She's not ready for this. She isn't. Unlike Kate, who isn't quite there yet, Peggy is a friend, and Stella's sole reliable source of mental and emotional support in the village more or less since she first arrived. She's going to have been worried that Stella was gone for good, and Stella truly doesn't know if she can cope.

She's going to try, she has to, but she can already feel something awful and vulnerable bubbling up to the surface, pushing through the cracks already forming in the superficial emotionless facade she's been living in since the Spector investigation fell to pieces. Years of practice at keeping herself together when everyone else around her is falling apart are the only thing allowing her to keep her tenuous grip on self-control; how long that will last is another question entirely.

and the ships are left to rust

14th march ; the woods ; open

There comes a point where Stella can't stay cooped up indoors any longer. Since the previous afternoon she's spent most of her time in bed, eating only when she has to, and more or less keeping to herself — but it's not good for her, she knows it's not. The fresh air will help, as will some semblance of her old routine. Do normal things when you've had a bad shock; that's what a therapist told her once, when she was young and green and new to CID, after she'd coped badly with her first time seeing an ugly murder scene. Do normal things and eventually some sense of normalcy will reassert itself.

She does. She takes the basket she's been using to collect edible plants from the woods, herbs and mushrooms and berries, and spends a good hour or so doing just that. For a woman who had absolutely zero wilderness survival skills when she'd first got here, Stella has got fairly good at marking out which ones can be eaten and which she should avoid; another skill to add to her list. Eventually she has a whole basket full, but instead of going right back to the house, she decides just to sit for a few moments, propped against a sturdy tree tall and stout enough to be decades old. The weather is pleasant after the bitter chill of winter, and it's quiet here save for the wind in the trees and the sounds of little forest animals going about their business, and she doesn't really have to think about anything.

Stella hears the rustle of footsteps and looks over. Her brows arch a little, but she can't quite manage a smile, even a small one. "There's a whole thicket of blackberries just over there," she suggests, turning her head a bit in the direction she means, "if you're looking for something." It's spring, or it must be, more or less. Things are growing again. She ought to take comfort in that.

Threaded | Flat

It's like the calm between terrible storms for Beverly. She's just come out on the other side of a week where she could do nothing but tell the truth for a few hours every day and while she has no idea what's coming or when, she's sure it won't be good. Quiet isn't something someone usually can attribute to her. Calm and steady, yes, but ever since that week, she's been trying not to say too much.

While also trying not to think about the court martial that's likely waiting for her at home now.

She's kept to her normal schedule as much as possible, but sometimes that includes walking through the forest to see what she can harvest. Or just walking, as seems to be the case today. When she comes across Stella sitting against a tree, surprise is the strongest emotion that floods her mind. Neither one of them is usually the type to just sit around like this, but at the same time... maybe they could both use it. Something in Stella seems different today and Beverly knows the same can be said about her.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could sit with a friend for a while," she says in response, settling down nearby, with her back against that same large tree. It can support both of them with ease and maybe the company of a friend who didn't get to see her spout her entire life's story might help.

Peggy's been feeling somewhat better as of late. She wouldn't call herself fully emotionally healed, but then, she also doesn't believe that she'll ever be willing to open up enough that she can be. What she did and what she saw as a result is going to live with her, which means that she has to come to terms with it and simply move on. If she doesn't, she knows that it's bound to eat her alive. Then again, at the same time, she's also been feeling the edge of a collapse because Stella hasn't been home in days and no matter who she asks, no one has seen her.

She's in the midst of cleaning some of the cups in the sink when she hears Stella return. Ducking back to try and catch her line of sight, she gestures towards where she is. "Stella?" She steps back, heart in her throat. She hadn't expected her to come back, she'd honestly believed that all her searching had been for naught and it would be like Steve all over again.

Her relief falters, however, seeing Stella's face. Heart sinking in her chest, Peggy knows this can't be good. "What happened?" she demands bluntly. "Where did you go?"

Edited 2018-03-20 00:51 (UTC)

"Now that's a bloody lie and you know it, Miss Gibson," Kate says, the woman's words finally stirring her to say something, anything.

She'd not planned on this when she'd gone for her walk. She'd planned on stealing some time out in the warming air to read one of the surviving books. Oh, she'd known there was a chance some poor soul might appear all spluttering and frightened, but not Miss Gibson. Not Miss Gibson, looking like that. Like someone had well and truly beaten her.

Kate hadn't known what to think when the woman had gone missing. They are not friends, nor close, but she'd told her more of what happened then she'd told anyone but her own beloved older sister. Not even Benedict, a man as much her husband as anyone without a written paper and an oath before a priest, knows of what she'd told the good detective. It had seemed oddly wrong for the woman to just vanish, though. That's all Kate had reasoned so far.

Having her appear, like this, is not.... It is not expected, on many levels.

take what the water gave me

pockets full of stones

and the ships are left to rust

march 14th

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