TDIR: Convergence (5)
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Jane/Mary
Warnings: None
Chapter: Five
Rating: G
Summary: Jane waits in vain for a letter. For 10lilies.
Jane notices the rain outside -- coming down in sheets, in the way that rain in England does when the weather forecast has said it won't -- as she's getting dressed. It seems to fit her mood, somehow, ever since they got home from the Stantons' home. Barney and Simon, as predicted, tease her about pining after Will, and her parents smile at her fondly as if contemplating how much she's grown. She only wishes she was pining over Will, somehow; at least then things would have a chance of coming out right.
She finishes doing up the buckle of her shoe just as she hears the letters dropping in through the letterbox. She passes Barney on the stairs -- he looks sleepy still, wrapped up in a dressing gown and wearing huge slippers -- and is the first to reach them, scrabbling through them eagerly looking for one from Mary.
"She won't write," Barney says, from the stairs, half yawning. Jane looks up, annoyed.
"How do you know that?"
"Will told me. She never bothers to write to anyone."
"Well maybe she will write to me," Jane says, crossly, and pointedly focuses on the letters, hoping to find one that proves Barney wrong. There's a letter from Will and a postcard from Cornwall for her, but nothing else.
"Looks like she won't," Barney says, cheerful as ever, heading into the kitchen to have breakfast. Jane follows him slowly, opening Will's letter -- hoping that, maybe, Mary will have just included a letter of her own with that to save on postage.
"Will doesn't like you, you know," Simon says, misinterpreting her woebegone expression -- as always. "I think he's... you know, that way."
"I don't even like Will," she protests.
"Who is it then?" Barney asks, reaching over to poke her in the arm. "It's one of the Stantons, right? I bet you have a crush on that big brother of his -- the one who's in the Navy."
"Stephen," Simon says, kicking Barney under the table. Jane grins a little: Simon somewhat worships Stephen after talking to him about all things Navy, and almost switched his ideal career from doctor back to sailor.
"Not Stephen." She wrinkles her nose. "He's too old anyway!"
"Max, then."
"I bet you like Max," she retorts. Barney makes a face at her.
"I'm not queer!"
"It's Bran Barney's always harping on about," Simon says, his expression mock-serious. "I think we should be worried about him, Jane. I think he's a bit too obsessed with the idea of going to Wales again."
Barney goes a bit pink. "Ew, no!"
"You're blushing," Jane says, happy to have the topic steered away from who she likes. "It's true!"
Barney makes a face at her. "Is not. But who do you like, Jane? If it's not Will or Stephen or Max... what about James? Or the one who plays the flute -- Paul? Or his twin? C'mon, tell us! We don't have secrets in this family."
"Yes we do," she insists. "And I don't like any of them. I just wish Mary would write to me, that's all."
"She's too lazy to," he says, dismissively.
"She's not," Jane says, quietly, but somewhere inside she has the awful feeling that Barney is right.
Pairing: Jane/Mary
Warnings: None
Chapter: Five
Rating: G
Summary: Jane waits in vain for a letter. For 10lilies.
Jane notices the rain outside -- coming down in sheets, in the way that rain in England does when the weather forecast has said it won't -- as she's getting dressed. It seems to fit her mood, somehow, ever since they got home from the Stantons' home. Barney and Simon, as predicted, tease her about pining after Will, and her parents smile at her fondly as if contemplating how much she's grown. She only wishes she was pining over Will, somehow; at least then things would have a chance of coming out right.
She finishes doing up the buckle of her shoe just as she hears the letters dropping in through the letterbox. She passes Barney on the stairs -- he looks sleepy still, wrapped up in a dressing gown and wearing huge slippers -- and is the first to reach them, scrabbling through them eagerly looking for one from Mary.
"She won't write," Barney says, from the stairs, half yawning. Jane looks up, annoyed.
"How do you know that?"
"Will told me. She never bothers to write to anyone."
"Well maybe she will write to me," Jane says, crossly, and pointedly focuses on the letters, hoping to find one that proves Barney wrong. There's a letter from Will and a postcard from Cornwall for her, but nothing else.
"Looks like she won't," Barney says, cheerful as ever, heading into the kitchen to have breakfast. Jane follows him slowly, opening Will's letter -- hoping that, maybe, Mary will have just included a letter of her own with that to save on postage.
"Will doesn't like you, you know," Simon says, misinterpreting her woebegone expression -- as always. "I think he's... you know, that way."
"I don't even like Will," she protests.
"Who is it then?" Barney asks, reaching over to poke her in the arm. "It's one of the Stantons, right? I bet you have a crush on that big brother of his -- the one who's in the Navy."
"Stephen," Simon says, kicking Barney under the table. Jane grins a little: Simon somewhat worships Stephen after talking to him about all things Navy, and almost switched his ideal career from doctor back to sailor.
"Not Stephen." She wrinkles her nose. "He's too old anyway!"
"Max, then."
"I bet you like Max," she retorts. Barney makes a face at her.
"I'm not queer!"
"It's Bran Barney's always harping on about," Simon says, his expression mock-serious. "I think we should be worried about him, Jane. I think he's a bit too obsessed with the idea of going to Wales again."
Barney goes a bit pink. "Ew, no!"
"You're blushing," Jane says, happy to have the topic steered away from who she likes. "It's true!"
Barney makes a face at her. "Is not. But who do you like, Jane? If it's not Will or Stephen or Max... what about James? Or the one who plays the flute -- Paul? Or his twin? C'mon, tell us! We don't have secrets in this family."
"Yes we do," she insists. "And I don't like any of them. I just wish Mary would write to me, that's all."
"She's too lazy to," he says, dismissively.
"She's not," Jane says, quietly, but somewhere inside she has the awful feeling that Barney is right.