-A/N-

The reason that I'm choosing to write a Secret Garden fanfiction is because it remains one of my favourite books of all time, definitely my favourite chapter book as a child, and, thanks to the romanticized 1993 movie version of the same name, it's opened up some new perspectives for me in terms of a sequel. The title, though corny, is something that is suited to the story I have in mind, and of course a play on words with regards to the original title.

I realize that the fanbase for this novel and/or movie isn't exactly the largest, but since I know there are others out there, like me, that love the book, and if there's some chance that those people would like to read a sequel, then I intend to provide it for them. For those who will be reading along with me as I write this, your support is deeply appreciated, so please make yourself known through either a review, follow, or perhaps favourite.

With regards to the content of the story, I will be incorporating elements from both the book and movie, though mostly from the book. If you already have a detailed understanding of both, then you'll be able to determine where all the details come from, but if not, it shouldn't be hard to follow along either way. Of course, I'll also be adding in my own little details and OCs, but that's what makes a fanfiction a fanfiction, in some ways. Also, I've decided to rate this T for some mature content, although there will be eventual smut in the story. I will make sure to post warnings for that, of course, so you can choose to read that at your own risk. Other than that though, I'll be keeping some of the original innocent elements of the story alive.

All in all, please enjoy, and thank you to those in advance that will be showing support for this story.

1 - Reunion

Misselthwaite Manor, August 1917

Mary Lennox was nearing her sixteenth birthday when it happened—when Colin Craven, her cousin who was already sixteen, and growing up to be stronger, handsomer, and more lively than ever, brought home a professional telescope, purchased for him in London by his father, Lord Archibald Craven, and soon to be the wonder of many of the simple folks of northern Yorkshire.

The telescope was made of gold, positively radiant on the outside and, though heavy, Colin insisted on carrying it inside Misselthwaite all by himself to show to Mary. It was, as his father suspected, merely another display of his to prove that he was healthy, strong, and growing up to be a man that everyone could be proud of, and so he let him do it, but not without lingering at a close distance as Colin carried it up the stairs to Mary's room.

Mary, at this time, was preoccupied with reading Jane Eyre, a book whose protagonist (as far as she could tell within the first five chapters or so) was an orphaned girl not much unlike how she used to be, except in that she was poor, lived with abusive cousins and a horrid aunt, and was sent to a boarding school. Mary herself, despite Mrs. Medlock's suggestions to the contrary, had been educated solely at Misseltwaite by private tutors, Lord Craven feeling it unbearable to have any more of his family go out of his life. To him, Mary was like an angel, practically a reincarnation of the happiness in his life which had long left him since his Lily has perished, and he loved her like his own daughter. Of course, her help in curing Colin and opening up the secret garden, now a domain only for themselves and the Sowerbys, also played a part in encouraging this affection, but Mary's growing kindness was also a welcome presence in the large, lonely house.

Now, as he entered her room and saw her glance curiously over to Colin's newest "magic" experiment, he couldn't help but smile. That summer, he and Colin had gone off to London for two weeks alone, Colin insisting on learning more about the manufacturing business, something he'd grown quite interested in. Because, much as the young master knew that he could be sustained by his father's wealth, his inheritance, for his entire life, after watching Dickon he had become convinced that an honest living was also a necessary thing to have. Thus, while he wasn't studying to someday go to university, the Young Master Craven sought out personal experiences outside of Misselthwaite. This left the young Mistress Mary alone of course, but she never felt lonely.

"Good afternoon Colin, Uncle Archie," she greeted, rising up to greet them. Immediately, she went and embraced her elderly guardian, lingering to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek as she always did, and then went to embrace Colin. The young master's arms lingered around her for a second longer after she had let go, then he turned and gestured to the contraption in front of them.

"What do you think?" he asked proudly. "I had it specially made to bring back with us. It cost father a couple of hundred pounds, but I know that it will be worth it once we set it up tonight."

"What's it supposed to do?" asked Mary, who had never seen a telescope before.

"It's for seeing the stars up close," Colin explained. "I have a book about it in my library. I'll show it to you tonight before dinner and then we can go over how to set it up. I thought that the meadow out back, beyond forest on the moor would be the perfect place to set it up."

"Not tonight, Colin," Lord Craven cut in. "I'm afraid that it's going to rain tonight, and aside from which, we also need our rest. We have had a long journey today."

Colin furrowed his brow in disappointment, much like he did when he was a young boy of ten, but didn't argue. "Very well," he mumbled.

Lord Craven kissed both his son and his niece on the forehead, and then called for servants to come and transport the telescope to Master Colin's chamber. Colin was about to protest this, until Mary attracted his attention and suggest that they go out to the gardens. Colin took this to mean that she wanted to go to a very special garden, and was more than willing to oblige.

"I do believe I have missed it," he professed, once they were outside and in the privacy of the gardens. Mary was leading the way like she always did, the key clenched in her hand and her breath hitching slightly as they turned the corner and came upon the ivy-walled path. It gave her a thrill every time she came there, despite coming so very often, just as it had the first time. The robin who had showed her the way was no more, having lived out his lifespan content and happy, but now many robins, his kin, inhabited the garden and added to its life.

"You've only been gone two weeks," Mary laughed, although in truth she too would have missed it after such a short time. Every summer until she was thirteen, Lord Craven had taken both her and Colin to places like Belgium and Sweden, and there shown them beautiful forests and beaches, and in places like Germany, Italy, and France, grand estates, but nothing, nothing could compare to their secret garden. That was where all the magic was, although of course Mary had learned that magic could be found anywhere if you only knew how to look hard enough.

But then, just one month after their visit to Normandy, war had broken out, and ever since then their vacations had been limited to places in Great Britain. Mary hadn't cared as much for the cooler temperatures of Scotland, although she more than adored Ireland and places in southern England. The truth was, in many ways she was still more accustomed to warmer climates and temperatures because of India, although she considered herself to be a true "Yorkshire lass". "After all, the best of me life's been lived here," she had remarked to Martha Sowerby when she (Mary) was fourteen. "Doesn't tha think so?" Martha, of course, ever ready to humor her mistress, had given her usual broad smile and nothing else.

Other than a change in vacation plans though, the war had not impacted Mary much, as both Colin and Dickon had thus far been too young to contribute to England's service. With Dickon's eighteenth birthday passed in March though, it was only a matter of time before not even the vastness of the moor could protect him from being enlisted.

Naturally though, the cousins didn't discuss this, as Colin had just returned home and they had a lot to make up for in their two weeks of absence.

"Here it is. Open the door, Mary," Colin said, once they reached the familiar ivy-covered portion of the wall, beyond which lay the door to all the peace, joy, and magic they could find in the world.

"Welcome home," whispered Mary, and then she disappeared into the ivy, turned the key in the lock, and motioned for Colin to come in after her.

The impact upon entering was just the same as it had always been. Here, there, and everywhere were splashes of colour, and scents of every flower that the moor could boast, and bees and birds and insects and plants full of life, rising up out of the earth in the evening as if to give a greeting to the Young Master Craven, shortly before retiring. It was then, upon noticing the dimming of the natural light, that Colin truly realized that it was growing late, and that they would have to leave just as soon as they'd come if they didn't want all the servants in the house out looking for them.

"It looks the same as it always does. Nothing can ever die here," Colin sighed, brushing his hand over one of the roses covering the walls, the roses which his mother had so loved.

"It gives one the feeling of living forever and ever," Mary remarked, smiling as she glanced sideways at Colin.

"Yes," Colin agreed. "Although, I should feel that everything's alright in the world even if I did die here—then I know I could go to heaven."

Mary blinked uncertainly, for a moment at a loss for what to say. "What makes you talk of dying?" she asked, wondering why he had steered the conversation in such a direction. Was he—?

"No, I'm alright, Mary. It's just that I've seen a different side of the world than what we've both been used to, these past two weeks, and...Mary, you know that there's a war going on right now."

"I don't want to talk about it." Mary turned away from him, preparing to leave. With her days indoors spent on either reading books or studying, and her days outdoors spent in the gardens or out on the moor, she didn't want to preoccupy herself with matters of the outside world, with war. Even as a child, she wasn't used to having unpleasantness thrown at her, but rather the other way around, always getting her way, and so since the concept of a war displeased her, she had rather avoid it altogether rather than acknowledge it as a reality. It had nothing to do with her, so why should she put it into any notice?

"You must know about it though, Mary," Colin insisted, not taking the hint. "Everyone knows about it, even if they don't talk about it much around here. In London, almost everyone's talking about it, and even in business, they're saying that the only business now is war. Out of all the factories and companies I've gone to see, at least four out of every five of them is working on something to aid the war effort. And the hospitals! Oh, Mary, there are—"

"I said that I don't want to talk about it!" Mary exclaimed, turning back in a huff to face him. Just like Colin sometimes did, she was expressing behaviors that were still quite childlike in nature, showing just how much growing she still had to do as well. In body, she had gained all of her feminine parts, with very little left to the imagination. As Mrs. Medlock and Martha and about everyone else had guessed, she had retained some of her mother's beauty, especially now that her sour expression was (mostly) gone, but emotionally she still had aways to go.

"Why not?!" asked Colin, growing impatient as well. He and Mary often got along on most subjects, but sometimes, when she so blatantly refused him like she was doing now, he too reverted back to his old ways of throwing tantrums, until it became a matter of who could scream the loudest rather than present the most suitable argument.

"Why do you want to talk about it?!" Mary's bottom lip quivered after she spoke this, and Colin noticed that there were tears in her eyes. His anger quickly diminished, he reached out and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Dear, what is it?" he asked, addressing her kindly so as to let her know that he had no wish to contradict her anymore—how could he, with her about to cry?

Sniffing lightly and trying to keep the tears from coming, still too proud to let them fall despite having learned how to cry since coming to Misselthwaite, Mary gave the best answer she could. "I know more about war than you may think," she said. "This spring, Master Lawrence"—her tutor—"began teaching me about the history of war. He advised me to search for patterns, and had barely got around to instructing me on this war before I had Uncle Archie dismiss him. I couldn't stand it anymore by that point, but I did learn a thing or two regardless. One of those things is that those who usually talk about war as you do are...those who want to get involved in some way."

Colin's eyes widened in surprise as he tried to draw conclusions from what she was telling him. "So you...were worried about me?" he breathed.

Mary nodded. "How could I not be? You're my cousin!"

Colin had to admit that he did feel a proud swell in his breast when he heard that, but he couldn't exactly be content with the knowledge that he'd saddened his cousin. Lifting up his finger to her chin, he made her face him, his eyes staring intently into hers. "Don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"Really?"

"Really." The assurance made Mary exhale shakily. She was calming down, albeit slowly, and even beginning to regain some of her natural calm.

"I am glad," she said. "I want you to stay, always. All of us here, together."

"Where else would I go?" Colin asked, now joking with her. He neither removed his arm from around her shoulders though, nor his hand from where it rested under her chin. "I'm only sixteen—there's two years to go before they'll take me, even if I crawl on my knees to them."

Mary couldn't stifle a laugh, which Colin joined in on. Neither of them could ever imagine the proud Young Master Craven on his knees before anyone.

"I am glad," Mary repeated. "So glad."

"Me too," Colin replied, and then both of them noticed how close they were standing to each other. Colin didn't move, but Mary did, removing herself from his touch and shattering the one moment of awkwardness between them. Only, for Colin, it had been a moment of magic almost as beautiful as the garden itself.

"We should go back inside," Mary observed, and then looked up at the sky. "It's just as Uncle Archie said—it's going to rain soon."

Colin nodded, but didn't say a word as he followed her back to the house.

They locked the garden door and they left everything untouched, preparing instead to spend the next few days inside perhaps. Colin didn't know why exactly, but he suddenly felt twice as glad as before to be back home, and not only because he had missed the garden and Mary. Yes, he had missed both of those, but after that brief moment with Mary, coupled with her ardent concern of him, he felt something that he had never felt before. It was similar to what he had felt many years back when Mary had first come to him and began telling him stories, giving him a spark of life and hope to hold on to, but this time it was stronger. Instead of a spark, Colin felt as though it was a burning flame.

Is this also some sort of magic? Colin wondered, always ready to experiment some more and find out more about the magic in the world. And yet, for once, this was magic that he would rather indulge in for more than just experimental reasons. Truly, it was something new, and something stronger than anything he had ever felt before. What was it—what was it?

-End Note-

As many of you are probably aware of by now, yes, this aspect of Colin's "magic" towards the end is taken more from the movie than the book, but only because I need a romantic element to get this story going. In the book, the garden itself was the most important element, and I'll be sure to incorporate it at appropriate parts in the story, but with all the characters maturing, I logically assume that they emotions will be maturing as well. For Mary and Colin, I thought it necessary to show the parallel between how, as sixteen year-olds, they still are immature in some ways, although Colin, after what he's experienced in London (which will be elaborated upon in future chapters), will start to mature a bit faster. Nowadays, I know it's not often the case that boys will mature faster than girls, but I feel that back then, society really compelled people to mature, giving men the opportunities and priorities to do so over women—after all, our dear Alice Paul didn't win the vote for women until 1920. So, overall, that's my reasoning behind the beginning of Colin's new emotions.

For anyone who's missing Dickon, Martha, and other characters, don't worry, they'll also be coming soon, but I wanted to get a focus on the family dynamic and a bit of the historical background of the story before I started including more characters. This is only the first chapter, so I don't think that it should be too overwhelming. I hope you enjoyed it regardless though, and, once again, please show support through an option that allows. Thank you and onward to the next chapter!