A/N: Just a simple Tom/Fanny story that's not even really a Tom/Fanny story. Some timing might be slightly off but I'm going to ignore it and go on with my life, you should to. I hope you enjoy.
Warning: Has not been betaed, grammar and spelling mistakes are possible.

- Thoughts of Past Things -

Fanny was explaining the charity basket to Susan. To mend with taste and like new for the less fortunate. Tom was intrigued, never had he heard someone talk with such compassion for the poor and actually seem to mean it. But his cousin had always been something of an oddity for him, crying and hiding away, never standing up for herself against his sisters. But he had gone to school and sent back presents, little trinkets of nothing, and pitied her station from afar as he rejoiced in his. To be an heir, to be rich, first born son, and to find a wife of some worth, preferably attractive enough to walk the Halls with.

He'd indulged himself in his youth, right from school to idleness. Going about the country, living at the homes of friends, hunting, drinking, and gambling. He'd come back to Mansfield only at his father's behest, when his allowance had run thin and he needed to build it back up again. Only once had he not heeded his father's request, and it had cost his brother a few years of a living. But what was it really? Edmund was to hold a living for another already and when that was done surely the other would be open, if not there was always a living to be had somewhere. His sisters would marry well, there was no way they could not, so what did it really matter if he lived a bit out of his means? It would all be his once day anyways, to do with as he pleased. Then his name was not being spoken as kindly as it had been, and rumors of debts seemed to follow him from city to city and house to house. Then certain invitations stopped. He knew then that it was time to see his father. His father then took him out of country, where there was less trouble to be had.

It had been an educational trip, he'd never actually seen slaves before, the Bertrams were too Christian for such a thing, and seeing the scars he couldn't help but feel his father had made wise choices, though the kidnapping of labor was a problem, one not easily solved. And the manager of the plantation was a crook, and a new one was to be found, one who paid the labor, ran the fields properly, and sent the profit back to the mother country. After almost a year though, it was clear there was nothing else for Tom to do and he'd been sent home to see to his family as his father rallied to save their future.

But to be home without a watchful eye and debt paid was a tempting vice. His sister engaged to a rich bore, new acquaintances, and his aunt believing herself in charge of all, he had to get out, back to his own. It hadn't taken much to be allowed back into the fold, though it was different now, off somehow. A nameless iniquity he felt and pushed aside. When he couldn't ignore it any longer he went home. To be in his home, hunt it's grounds, watch his sisters and take care of his mother. He of course brought a friend to shoot with, his own brother being poor at the sport. He found fun in his own home, perhaps for the first time. They were at play, all of course except for his cousin, who seemed, if not exactly able to stand up for herself then to at least be able to leave the room. He turned a blind eye to his sister's transgressions, his brother's hopeless attempts to stay true to himself and encouraged him to try for romance. He himself still had time and none had been suitable, yet. Then his father had returned, and the weight of life with him. He'd been truly happy to see his father and it was such a foreign, unknown thing he didn't know how to express it. So he did the only thing he could, the only thing he knew how to do, leave, when he was able, and return to his own life.

But it wasn't his life anymore, not really. He missed his home, his family. To see the problems yet feel he wasn't in a position to do anything about them. He did truly want the best for Mansfield and all of it's inhabitants. He could see ways that his father was blind to, a hand that they didn't fear, but what could he do? He stayed with friends and drank their liquor, trying to forget until it was his time to reign. He was sure there was a night when he told his brother all of this, but that couldn't be true because Edmund was in London taking orders.

His next memories that he knew were real involved his own room and his mother and father. He knew his sister was lost and there was nothing to be done for her anymore. His brother would soon determine if he was to be as lost or find his way back. And he could do nothing for them, he couldn't even do for himself.

When his cousin returned home, was the first relief he felt after so many months of tension. His brother's broken heart he could be joyous about privately. His mother was calmer, her worries being placed in Fanny's capable hands. Once the other sister was secured there was nothing else for them to do except lick their wounds and hoped they healed. His aunt had to go though, and the last remembrance in the neighborhood was soon gone as well. A new cousin was being educated in the ways of Mansfield, Edmund was taking care of a living and nursing his heart, but Tom couldn't deny the glances he'd see him steal toward Fanny. And less often ones she would turn toward him. Surely they'd be married soon and while Tom wanted to be happy for them, it really seemed such a perfect match after everything else that had happened to them, there was a nameless part that was dark and brooded at the thought of his brother and cousin. His cousin who'd cast such a loving eye on him when they were so much younger, who persevered in righteousness when no one else had. Who'd been servant to aunts, afterthought to cousins, and cherished by an uncle and brother. Would Edmund truly understand the rightness, the wholeness of Fanny Price. Her tender hand, soft voice, gentle admonishment, was he even worthy of it? To of been led to neglect of Fanny so quickly, not realizing he was truly her only friend, and to ignore her so blatantly for the eye of another.

Tom mused on the sofa as he watched Fanny show Susan the proper way to mend a hem. Edmund was still in mourning for his loss, he hadn't considered a new subject of adoration yet, his eye was looking but his mind hadn't caught up. It would be easy really, to talk to his father, to convince him of it merits. She was the best thing this house had known. Tom had strayed, known what he had and thought it would be waiting when he was finally allowed to hold it, but it had slipped through his hands with his neglect. This couldn't, she couldn't. He would win her from Edmund, he knew what Crawford never could, knew there was a competitor for Fanny's heart, however inattentive he was. Tom was sure he would win, and before Edmund realized he lost, Fanny would be his wife. And he would take her to meet only his married friends, to stay in those houses, and she would be dazzling on his arm as they walked into Halls.

~ Fin ~