Disclaimer: You know the drill. Jayne is mine, though.
A/N: Something I found myself needing to do. SPOILER ALERT! MAJOR STORYLINE SPOILING FOR JO, ROS, PHIL ETC. I am completely out of my depth here, I've only written Phil once, and never gone near the other kids much before, except in relation to Rachel and/or Eddie, but I've done my best. I hope you guys approve. NOT ROMANTIC! Character work.
Summary: There are some rules Ros needs to be acquainted with...And there's someone else, watching her, who has played the game before...
Directions For The Journey
"I'm really sorry Philip, but I can't-"
"This is the third time this week, Ros, don't you think Miss Lipsett might be pushing this APU stuff a bit far?"
"She only wants me to do well – this is important." Ros was trying to be reasonable, but it was clear her boyfriend was not in a mood to listen. Philip rolled his eyes, having heard the same thing the previous three times he'd tried to invite Ros over for pizza, and getting a little bit sick of it now. It was hard to say who had the better point.
"Yeah, whatever." He rolled his eyes a little bit and sped up, leaving Ros standing the corridor, looking unhappy and a little frustrated. All of this was observed by a pair of cool green eyes, who had been making observations on these particular two for nigh on two months now, and had finally decided it was time to step in. Pushing herself up from casually leaning on the wall, Jayne made her way over to Ros, who was still gazing after Philip, biting the inside of her lip slightly. Putting any doubts that she was in fact making a rather large mistake out of her mind, Jayne approached and reached out, catching Ros' arm gently.
"Ros, you ok?" Having successfully redirected the other girl's attention to herself, Jayne gave a smile, and Ros nodded, a look flicking back down the corridor before she turned fully to face Jayne.
"Yeah, fine. Did you want to talk to me?" Ros asked, and Jayne nodded. It was natural Ros would be wondering – they might be in the same year, but they hardly ever spoke – Jayne and her friends were clever, but nowhere near as academic as Ros, nor had similar interests.
"Yeah, I was wondering if you could just talk me through this French activity Lipsett gave us?" Jayne asked, knowing it would appeal to Ros in more ways than one. The second the magic name was mentioned, a smile lit the other girl up, and Ros nodded, hitching her bag slightly higher over her shoulder. Jayne thanked her and led the way to an empty classroom, going over all the things she'd planned to say one final time in her head, hoping she could get through to the other girl before Ros decided to take off on her heels.
They slipped inside the door, Jayne waiting for Ros to dump her bag on a table before closing the door and standing in front of it, hopefully making sure the other young woman would listen to her. She knew what she was about to say wasn't easy to hear, or think about. Shifting her bag off her shoulder and onto the floor by her feet, she waited for Ros to finish fussing with her books, and turn around. The fact Jayne had made no similar effort to locate her books would probably tip the intelligent girl off.
"Which bit of the – aren't you going to get some paper out?" Ros asked, as she faced the other brunette and a puzzled frown took over her face as Jayne avoided her eye for a few moments, steeling herself. Then Jayne looked up and looked straight into Ros' eyes.
"When did you realise you have feelings for Miss Lipsett?" Jayne asked, straightforward and unashamed, determined now she'd begun, she wouldn't cloud the issue. Ros went very pale, then very tomato coloured in the matter of a few seconds, before turning away and mumbling, embarrassed and lacking the conviction of someone who'd confronted her feelings in any great detail. That, Jayne could relate to.
"I don't know what you mean-"
"Yes you do. You might not have said it quite that way to yourself, but you know. You're too smart not to have realised." Jayne tried to inject some friendly feeling into her tone, but had to be careful – this conversation had to be undertaken with a lot of consequences and possibilities accounted for. Ros shuffled her bag's lid around on the table, not looking up at all, her expression well camouflaged from anyone wandering by the room they'd chosen. "When did you know?" Jayne repeated, moving slightly closer and angling her head to try and catch Ros' eyes. The other young woman finally straightened up and turned, leaning on the desk and at least facing in Jayne's direction.
"About two months into the start of the year." Ros admitted, very quietly, and Jayne let out a breath, knowing the first hurdle was down. The most important problem had been whether Ros would ever trust her enough to confide in her. But Jayne knew from experience, even someone you didn't know, sometimes especially someone you had no contact with day-to-day, could be the best person. And with a problem like this, it never stayed secret for too long. Jayne nodded understandingly, folding her arms, waiting for more. "When did you realise?" Ros asked, and Jayne's eyes widened fast, the ever-present panic rising at the thought she'd been scuppered, and she covered it with a bemused frown. "How I – with Miss Lipsett?" Relief flooded Jayne briefly, and she almost smiled.
"About a month and a half after you did. I just couldn't be sure for a while. I didn't want to say anything in case I was wrong." Ros nodded, a little miserably if Jayne was reading her right, and she shifted her feet together, her eyes focussed on her sensible shoes. Jayne watched her, not wanting to push, wondering if Ros would mind if she just said her piece and left the other girl to it.
"How did you know?" Ros asked, finally looking up, worry in her eyes that Jayne recognised far too painfully.
"Don't worry, you're not obvious. It was your description of A Perfect Man – that exercise she had us do, a while back? That tipped me off. It might have sounded like Philip, but it wasn't. After that, I was on the lookout, because I knew you weren't after another lad and I know the signs. It's just a load of little things mostly – like the way you don't really look at Philip the way you look at her. And even though you've got work to do, you'll stay behind just that little bit longer to talk to her. And how you want to impress her, but you're always so careful not to be obvious about it. You'll ask her for help, where you wouldn't with other teachers. It helps I'm in your French class with her. Don't worry Ros, no one else has twigged, I promise." Jayne reassured her, smiling a slightly tight smile, the topic not easy for her to discuss either.
"So why are you telling me you know?" Ros asked, her own curiosity finally coming into play, as Jayne had known it would.
"Because I want to try and help." Jayne said, warily, completely in earnest because she didn't want to see Ros get hurt, not through something like this especially, but worried for her own secret at the same.
"Help?" Ros repeated, evidently a little confused.
"Yeah. Because I know the pattern. And right about now, you'll be getting to the stage where you're comfortable enough to acknowledge your feelings practically openly in your own head. And you'll be looking to justify it – looking for signs from her. And I wanted to try and head you off at the pass, because it'll hurt when you realise there aren't any. Or you'll make the even bigger mistake of thinking there are. Either way, it doesn't end well. You're lucky – you've got Philip. He really likes you, Ros, likes you for you and if you can try to forget Lipsett, then he will be the one to help." Jayne was acting on instinct now – she couldn't back this up, but she hoped it was true.
Then the words she'd been dreading slipped from the other brunette across the room.
"What if I can't?" Jayne sucked in a breath, folding her arms a little tighter and leaning on the wall, condemning herself for not catching this before Ros got to the point. "Even when I'm with Philip, I can't stop thinking about her. I'll be fine, for half an hour maybe, then she'll pop right back into my head, and I can't get her out. I feel dreadful, because I feel like I'm hurting Philip, but... I can't stop." Jayne looked up and gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"And you hate it, because it's so 'bad teenage romance novel'-ish, and it's not you at all. You're constantly worried that someone is going to catch on. That Philip will realise where your mind is. And it wears you out, because you can't tell Philip what's bothering you, you can't tell anyone. And you really like Philip – but it's not the same as what you feel when you're around her. Right?" Jayne said wearily, and Ros nodded, her mouth forming a little 'o' that said she'd probably grasped what Jayne had been trying so hard not to say or include in this conversation.
"How did you-"
"Not important." Jayne shut the question down before it was even voiced, not about to share that with anyone. "Ros, I know it's not easy at the moment and it's not going to get any more so, but at least you've only got until the end of the year before you'll be away from her. The main thing to remember is that Lipsett is never going to return those feelings. Not ever, ok? She's probably never dealt with anything like this before, so she won't know how you're feeling, but whatever you think in the next few months, she will never feel the same way. The sooner you accept that, the better." The words had stung, it was obvious, Ros had recoiled from them like they were snakes but they had to be said.
"I know. I know what you're saying. But-"
"No. No 'but's. I know how you're feeling is real – it feels real, and it feels incredible when you're around her, one smile and you could take on the world. One word of praise, and nothing else matters. Then the minute you're away, it's back to being constantly on guard and double checking what you say, and pretending, and you hate it. But it's just you – and it always will be. And unless you can start getting over it now, you're not going to make leaving easy for yourself." Wincing, the brunette by the door realised how harsh and unyielding her own voice sounded and knew that wasn't what Ros needed. She needed a click in front of her eyes, not a bucket of cold water. Softening, she pushed away from the wall and went to stand closer to Ros, eyes searching for how the other girl was taking it. "I'm not trying to patronise you, or make things hard for you, I'm just trying to warn you." Jayne finished, much more warmly than she'd yet managed, and shot her eyes straight into Ros, desperate to get her point across and leave as soon as possible, because much as she'd decided this was the right thing to do, it didn't make sharing these things any easier.
To her relief, Ros nodded, her expression drawn in and thinking, and Jayne half-smiled again. In that second, both were very conscious that while the potential for a bond between them was there, neither were taking it. Jayne had been on her own with this for so long it panicked her to think there was anyone else out there who could give her away, and she wouldn't know until it was too late. And Ros was still relatively new to her feelings, sharing them with anyone had been an impossibility until a few minutes ago.
The moment of silence lingered, Ros processing the words and Jayne willing to wait until she had, wanting to make sure she'd done what she'd intended. Getting a crush on a role model was normal at their age - most people got them on celebrities, footballers, actresses, that sort of thing – occasionally, you'd even get them for people of the same sex, but you wouldn't call it a crush, you'd just call them your idol and put them on a pedestal. For Ros, and Jayne, and the others like them, things were a bit more complicated. It wouldn't even be so bad if it was just a crush – giggling with your mates about how fit someone was. This was different – they'd gone beyond giggling.
This was needing a role model, mixed in with a need for connection, bundled up with a hole mess of hormones and teenage angst.
It wasn't love, in the "I love you" sense, anyone with a shred of thought or sensibility knew that, but it was adoration, and very powerful.
As Jayne watched, Ros seemed to straight up and come to a decision, and the grim set to her expression told Jayne what she needed to know. The knowledge the person you idolised most in the world would never know how you felt, much less return it, when they were constantly around you and within an arm's reach, wasn't an easy thing to reconcile with. For a second, Jayne's empathy escaped her, and she reached out to brush a hand down Ros' arm before turning for her bag, and the door. For a moment, she really thought that would be it.
"Wait – does this mean I'm..." Freezing, Jayne squeezed her eyes shut and withheld a sharp exhalation of short, sharp frustration. She had been hoping, really really hoping, that she wouldn't have to go near that question. Wheeling about, she fixed Ros with a look, softness reeled rapidly back in and hidden away.
"Gay?" She offered, keeping her voice low enough so there was no possibility of anyone hearing outside of their room, but sharp enough so Ros flinched again and ducked her head. Jayne sighed, lowering her own eyes, folding her arms back up defensively and the facade faltering slightly. "I don't know. You're the only one who can know for sure." Ros' gaze darted up to her, evidently considering asking and Jayne hesitated, unable to back away from a question she couldn't answer herself.
"What about you?" Shifting awkwardly, the question hovered, the gnawing little voice that never quite went away.
"I think – I think I might be. But I don't know. I don't think I'll know until I'm out of this place." And away from her. They both finished in their minds, knowing in that second exactly what the other young woman was thinking. And for a moment, they smiled, that dubious, tender bond flickering between them, their secrets paving a path.
Then Jayne heard a familiar stride coming down the corridor, the click of heels she'd know anywhere, and she skittered away, back to the door, the honesty of their discussion packaged away in the blink of an eye, brown paper and cool green eyes providing shelter for that uncomfortable truth. Ros seemed surprised and almost jumped a little at the rapid movement as Jayne picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, her eyes skimming over the window, hand resting on the door, back against the far wall, out of site, tensed and waiting. There just wasn't any way she could face Her after talking to Ros like this. Frowning, Ros registered the clip of high heeled boots too, and saw Miss Mason stride into view at the end of the corridor.
Understanding, and at last, a little empathy, swept over Ros as she saw the pained longing that flitted over Jayne's expression as Rachel glanced into the room, smiled at Ros for a second before sweeping past – she didn't see Jayne, by the door, as had likely been the intention when the young woman had moved there, and Ros realised the reason for the other young woman's retreat. Oh, Ros knew that feeling – seeing the light in their eyes, like it's only you they're looking at, and they really see you – the parts of you that you like, the parts they think well of. The confidence you wish you could emulate, the strength and beauty that seemed so effortless. The curves and lines in their expression you know practically by heart, but in a painful way, wish you didn't. A few moments later, the Headmistress had passed their room and carried on down the corridor, oblivious and beautiful, while Jayne visibly relaxed at the sound of her receding footsteps.
"I was going to ask, but I don't need to now." Ros finally spoke into the atmosphere, the previous tension leaking away. Jayne glanced over at the new keeper of her deepest secret and was caught between the urge to curse and to deny, but refrained from either. There was no denying it – Ros was far too intelligent, and cursing would not help anything. She raised her face to Ros, the look enough to ask for a promise of never speaking those words, or what they meant, again. And Ros nodded. "I won't say anything. Promise." Jayne nodded back.
"I promise too. If you need... well, I'm around." They both half-smiled again, the gesture of support a faint but well meant one. Then Jayne pressed down on the handle and slipped out of the door, not looking back, leaving the part of her she couldn't protect in the hands of an empty room, and a young woman who understood the weakness, and whose secret she had taken with her. They both knew, unless something disastrous happened, they probably wouldn't speak again – just as they knew they'd never be able to share what they had with each other with anyone else. Ros also knew, whether Jayne liked it or not, that there was now an irrevocable tie between them. Their problems shared were not halved, but it had helped, in some way.
If the worst came to the worst – and in their situation, there were a lot of possibilities that fell under that title – they would be there for the other. Allies were precious.