Okay, so I had a heck of a time naming this fic. I kind of wanted the title to be ironic - the "consequence of yes" is something you would more likely associate with the illicit affair between Emily/Steerforth, not the honorable one of Emily/Ham - but the "yes" Emily gives when Ham proposes changes everything for the worse. Thus, the title. ;)

**Written for FanFic 100!**

The Consequence of Yes

Prompt: 025. Strangers.

Everyone told me what a good match Ham Peggotty was. I was aware of it. Had I not grown up with him since I was a child of four years old, and he a lad of 14? "Ham," they all used to say, in one variation or another, "is strong, a hard worker, so very kind ('specially to you, my dear!), and a gen'ral fam'ly man. You can trust in his loyalty, to be sure!"

How could I doubt this? I recognized his sincere, almost worshiping interest in everything I said to him (wheter or not he was truly interested, he cared for my sake), and his concern for my welfare and happiness. I saw his kindness to dear aunt and uncle, and frustrating Miss Gummidge, oh, everyone!

And so when he asked me for his hand in marriage, what could I rightly do - what a fool everyone would have thought me, if I did not - but accept?

Imagine my hurt, and my shame, to find, upon my "yes," how Ham changed in my eyes. I suppose, before, you have shut up one eye, and looked at a thing, and seen it one way; then shut up your other eye, and beheld it again, moved, and turned, the same, yet unfamiliar to you? That was my position! Forgive me - I wrong him - and would I could have separated myself from this strange new dread he was to me!

I knew that I should venerate dear Ham the more, as his future wife. But all the comfort I used to feel when I was near him seemed compromised, in this new role. Ham was a dear friend and brother; as such, I could cling to him freely. But as a husband? I could not even imagine embracing him. I could scarcely look at him any more, for in the new light, I saw him differently. As a brother, or cousin, he was softhearted and clumsy and bashful - as a husband, these same qualities seemed gauche and discomfiting, almost repulsive, in a way. I found a million new flaws in him which was unfair to him and bad in me, but which nevertheless influenced the way I regarded him. It was as though the brotherly support he had been to me was tainted.

So I shrank from him. I clung to my uncle, who expected nothing from me still. Poor Ham - he was hurt by my wickedness, and confused - I saw it in his eyes, sometimes - but I confess I was almost glad of it. I wished he was as uncomfortable as I.

If only we could have remained children - must we grow up, and look at each other with strange new eyes, and change in our actions and love for one another? I think my rebellion against this change also made me behave as I did. It was almost as if Ham and uncle had conspired against me, and that hurt me.

There is no excuse for what I have done. I write this only so that I may be understood - so that I may not be blamed, for beholding a perfect match - a truly virtuous, kind, gentle, caring, honest, and brave young man - and yet viewing that goodness with a shadow of uncertainty and dread.