A/N: This idea came back and bit me a few weeks ago. Originally it was supposed to be a one-shot, but, well, it looks like it won't be; Amy has more to say than that, and Lyle and Neil are just as bad if not worse. Obviously AU and the title (along with the two lines at the beginning and end of this chapter) are from Lover to the Dawn by Bowie, a song which was the original demo version of Cygnet Committee...
Lover to the Dawn
As the sparrow sings dawn chorus
For someone else to hear
There were children shrieking in the playground, splashing in puddles and dirtying up their clean, crisp uniforms. The first day of a new term, the holiday feeling and excess energy spilling over and drowning the fact that they were back at school and school meant so much less free time to play. There was running and skipping, games of tag, bulldog and stuck-in-the-mud, all crisscrossing each other in a chaotic dance. In one corner, sheltered beneath the trees, rain dripping from leaves onto bags and discarded coats, a group of girls giggled and chanted old, well known rhymes as they clapped hands in complex patterns and others practised handstands against the wall, skirts twisted in such a way that they didn't compromise their dignity.
She watched it all with an unfamiliar hesitance, hovering at the edges where the painted hop-scotch grids have faded, a small yet purposeful pile of stones stacked up to the side in case of a game. Her eyes flitted from laughing face to laughing face, searching for the ones she knew best, those who had been here before her and who knew all the unspoken rules of this little piece of ground between work-time and play-time. She didn't want to do anything wrong; she'd heard the stories about how the other children could be and though she would never admit it the idea scared her just a little bit. Tiny fingers of icy doubt creeping down her spine. What if, her mind whispered, what if she didn't fit in?
With a frown she squashed the traitorous voice, stuffed it in a box and shoved it back into the deepest corner of her mind where she kept all her secrets and the truth about who it was who had always eaten all the fudge chocolate in the tin. Or, more to the point, who had taken them all, hidden them so no one else could eat her favourite and then feigned innocence about the whole affair. She'd learnt that one from her brothers, though her innocent act was far more convincing than theirs; theirs was - nearly always - seen straight through while hers - nearly always - was not. That was just the way of things.
She kicked at the grass that had begun to sprout up through the cracks in the ground and shifted her bag on her shoulder, fixing a smile to her face and looking up again at the children playing games, oblivious to her existence. They all looked so happy, carefree.
For just one moment she saw them, running and yelling across the playground, some argument about nothing of any real consequence. Then she blinked and they were gone. The pang of disappointment she shouldn't feel annoyed her and she squashed that too, shoving in the box with her nagging fears and nerves; the children here were not them and to even fleetingly think so was foolish. Even if they did behave like they had never grown up sometimes.
Without another minute of hesitation she turned on her heel and walked back, away from the playground and along the narrow path that ran alongside the building, a winding thing that provided almost a back door to the wide front door of the reception, coming out a few paces to the left. It felt almost as if she was sneaking in, avoiding walking through the car park from the wide gates and main road and as such there was no warning of her arrival, no one waiting at the desk as she signed her name on the sheet and looked around.
Nothing had changed in here either, the walls still lined with art and plaques, sporting achievements and accolades, none of which she had contributed to, but she recognised names of friends among them, reading them one by one and smiling. She skipped the infamous and – at least on a personal level – controversial declaration of the winner of the shooting event. She'd watched it from between her fingers and agreed with her mother, flinching at every loud noise: such an event should never have been allowed, and it hadn't run since-
"You're here."
The voice made her jump, breaking her train of thought, and she turned quickly, almost afraid until she saw the speaker and relaxed, smiling at her old teacher, "Yes, Mrs McCarthy. Sorry I didn't call ahead."
The woman's hair was greyer than the last time she saw her and the aging teacher followed her once-student's gaze to the plaque on the wall, the silence that trailed it was just a moment or two too long before it was filled with words which were almost too bright and cheerful, trying to make up for it.
"We weren't expecting you till tomorrow, Amy, but nevertheless tis good to see you an' May'll be glad of the help today of all days - kids are always so rowdy first day back. So, how have you been? How's that other brother of yours? Keeping out of trouble, I hope? And just call me Anne, dear, you're not a student anymore."
It was more questions than she could answer in one go, or even rightly remember as the old woman continued to ramble, leading her out of the reception and into the halls that Amy could have sworn were larger when she used to be here. Now they felt quite small, enough that she wondered how they could ever have fitted four of them across in a row, arms linked as they skipped to lunch; she didn't think they could fit more than two abreast comfortably now.
"We're doing well, thank you, Mrs Mc-" She paused, shrugged apologetically at the stern smile on the teacher's face. It didn't feel right, but if that was what was expected then, "Thank you, Anne. And yes, Lyle is keeping out of trouble, at least for the most part."
Anne McCarthy nodded once and continued on her way, "Glad to hear it, Amy, you tell him I said hello and to keep up the good work."
Good work, that's what her brother does. Good work because he's a good person, a bit of a trouble child, but he turned out well they said. Amy knew what they said, had heard it all a hundred times over, and everyone had their theories as to why, all of which boiled down to turning over a new leaf after the shock. Learning from his mistakes, they said, in honour and remembrance.
"I will."
'They' had it all wrong, and Amy knew it, and Lyle knew it and neither bothered to correct the ignorant masses or shatter their illusions.
"It's funny how things turn out, isn't it? Once all three of you were as bad – if not worse some days – than those children out there," Anne continued turning down another hallway, so caught up in her reminiscence she almost walked straight into the person coming the other way.
Familiar laughter and a steadying hand on the old woman's shoulder, a sparkle in his eyes as he grinned past the teacher at her, "Thought you weren't coming till tomorrow Ames, I'd have given you a lift."
She slipped the bag from her shoulder and unzipped it, pulling out the sandwiches he'd left behind, "I needed to come up anyway since someone forgot their lunch, dear brother. I don't make them for fun you know."
Neil pulled a face at her and Amy laughed.
It was almost so many years ago, chasing her brother around the school because he'd left his lunch at home and their mother had asked her to take it to him, to make sure he was eating healthily and not just snaking on junk food from the vending machines.
But it was not so many years ago and neither of them were students. She was in training and he was now a fully qualified teacher, Lyle in the police force. On the surface at least she hoped her parents were proud of them, of her, of this work if nothing else.
"I'll give you a tip in return for the food," Neil said, pulling a sheet of paper from a back pocket and holding it out to her. "These will be your best friend with May's class of tearaways; they make Lyle look like a puppy."
Anne hid a laugh behind a hand, tried to turn it into a cough and failed, which wasn't a reassuring sign as far as Amy was concerned as she took the sheet of paper and stared at it, "Stickers?"
"Stickers, just trust me, you'll need them before the day is out."
"And if I don't?"
"You'll have to tell everyone your secret," Anne replied as somewhere overhead a bell rang. "Time for class; don't want to be late on your first day."
The comment was aimed at Neil more than her as he gave a shoddy looking salute and jogged down the hallway out of sight and Amy tried to ignore the nerves that had resurfaced as she was lead the other way and left outside a classroom which was slowly filling with excited children, a sheet of stickers clutched in her hand.
It couldn't be as bad as everyone said it was, right? She was only an assistant, at least for today.
Lyle, she had quickly decided, could make anything look scruffy after wearing it for any longer than half an hour, and she was far from surprised to find him waiting at the gate when the bell for lunch break tolled down the hallways. She also wasn't surprised to find Neil had already beaten her there; if there was a short cut from classroom to freedom he'd be the second to find it, Lyle being the first.
"Little brother brought us the blessed gift of caffeine," he declared, raising the polystyrene cup up high like a trophy. "And that's lesson two for today - the coffee here tastes like mud, I don't advise drinking it unless you're desperate."
"How's your day going?" Lyle asked, point blank ignoring his brother as he lent across the low wall, his own coffee sitting by his elbow next to his cigarettes and lighter.
"Fine, they're not half as bad as he," Amy pointed at Neil, "was making them out to be. And-" she'd always had a quick hand, swiping her brother's things from under his nose, "-no smoking on school grounds."
He in turn pointed at the wall he was stood behind, "I'm not on school grounds."
"But you are in uniform and these are impressionable children."
Lyle gave an over-dramatic sigh and turned to his brother, "And you wonder why she'll be so much better at this job. You should just cut your loses now and join the force, the chief's still sulking you didn't take him up on his offer."
"Right place, right time, bastard had it- Ouch, Ames, that hurt!"
"Language!"
"Isn't half as bad as half the kids here, anyway, the guy had it coming, that's all," Neil finished, clicking the lighter Amy had confiscated from Lyle not minutes beforehand. "Don't think I could hack it as a permanent job, so maybe you should count yourself lucky: you get to keep all that glory to yourself."
With a purposeful glare Amy plucked the lighter from her older brother's hand and the cigarettes along with it, "What did I just say? You're both as bad as each other."
Lyle smirked and threw Neil a look, "Kleptomaniac."
"Am not, just skilled."
"Same difference."
No matter how old they got they still bickered like children, pointing fingers and sticking their tongues out at each other. In some ways it was hilarious, but in others... She could see the biting undertones beginning to show through, "Oh grow up you two. You should not need a baby sitter at your age, and I swear that's what I feel like sometimes!"
Stood there with her hands on her hips she looked like a teacher - she had the stern expression down, she honestly did have plenty of chances to practise it at home - but she was still their kid sister and she could still break their will to fight each other as easily as she could cook up a dinner. She was their kid sister and always would be, and as such Lyle just shook his head, reaching over to ruffle her hair much as Neil had a few hours earlier, the tension drifting away, "Only because you asked so nicely. Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us have some real work to do."
"Pushing papers in the office you mean."
"At least it's not colouring sheets and basic maths with building blocks!"
"Hey, if it works!"
"If only life had been that easy when I was learning maths," Lyle sighed, making one last ditched and failed attempt to get his belongings back off his sister without tumbling over the wall. "And I might be late tonight, so just leave dinner in the microwave and I'll try not to wake anyone up when I come in."
"Just don't forget you're cooking tomorrow," Amy replied, stepping back out of reach. "So pick up some fresh vegetables if the market's open in the morning; I'm using the last of what we have tonight."
"Which isn't very fresh anymore," Neil grinned over his coffee, watching the show.
Of course, that just returned Lyle's attention to him, giving up on his things as another lost cause, "You offering to buy more?"
"Nope, just stating the facts."
"Go to work, Lyle," Amy interrupted before they could get going again. "And, Neil, the bell will ring again shortly, hadn't you best finish that coffee and get back too?"
"Done and done-"
"And before you even think about it, no littering, that goes in the bin."
"Alright, alright, good grief..."
Lyle was laughing as he left, and despite the mock frown Neil was too, leaving Amy to collect the rubbish and dispose of Lyle's bad habit.
She watched them both, thinking how much she enjoyed moments such as these, all three of them together, regardless of the childish behaviour. This was how her life was supposed to be, but she could hear the sirens on Lyle's car and see the phone Neil had slipped from his pocket, the expression on his face so much darker now and she crumpled the cup in her hand, it was never built to last, but at least she could pretend.
The empty cups, cigarettes and lighter all went in the bin as she walked back into the school building, smiling, her eyes always only looking forward.
She finds lavender
To hide the beckoning...