Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A bit later of an update than you were expecting, I know, but I've been slogging through end-of-the-year stuff with school. I have my final AP exam next Wednesday, though, and then I will be completely done! That's completely irrelevant as far as the story is concerned, but I'm too excited about that not to share it.

Oh, and for those reviewers who have raised questions about Paton's mother, here's the deal. He never hated her; when he was seven, his family visited Yewbeam Castle and Yolanda pushed her down the stairs and broke her neck. Paton and his father were devastated, and I thoroughly enjoy siphoning some of the lingering angst into my stories.

Anywho, here is chapter three! As always, read, review, and enjoy!


Secret Three: He still believes in wishing upon a star.

Paton knows it is childish and silly. He knows he is a grown man, and that grown-ups aren't supposed to have foolish hopes. He has wished for years, and he knows by now that nothing will ever come of it. He knows that the stars are simply blazing balls of gas in galaxies of their own, millions of light years; they are not fey lights with magical powers, not benevolent spirits watching over him and guiding his life.

He knows this, and knows it well. He knows it is foolish to hope and dream—but he does it anyway.

When he was young, he and his mother spent night after night laying out in the thick cushion of grass in the clearing just beyond the beach, the sweet smells of summer surrounding them in a sultry haze. Lying back, the grass spread out around her, Solange would direct her son's gaze to a particular star or constellation, tell him its name and story.

It wasn't a simple matter of dictating, however. Solange gave each star an identity, narrated a great tale loaded with such mythology and detail that it seemed to Paton he personally knew the night sky.

The stars became his friends, his companions on even the darkest of nights. They were a secret he and his mother shared, a bond that they had even as his four sisters overpowered him during the day for their parents' attention.

As young as he was, Paton knew that the stars were something that he shared with his mother, and his mother alone.

One night, when Paton was fast approaching his life-changing seventh year, he and his mother lay out in what he had come to know as their field, making the most of the early arrival of summer's warm embrace. The breeze was light and warm, sweeping across the ground and ruffling clothes and grass as it passed.

There was a pause in the conversation, as Paton, lulled by the crashing of the waves against the distant shore, dozed. He had long ago learned the soothing effect of the surf's sound, his subconscious assigning it to a tranquilizing position in his mind. Now, surrounded by surf and stars, it was all but impossible for him not to be completely at ease.

Solange twitched her mouth into a grin, gazing up at the stars above. "Make a wish, Paton," she coaxed, listening to the soft breathing of the small form beside her.

His mop of black hair flopped as he stirred from his trance, and he slowly shifted to look at his mother. "Why?" His face was a mask of sleepy puzzlement. They were just stars, after all. Regardless of how much fun he had learning about them, they couldn't do anything.

She smiled and rested her hand on top of his head, smoothing his dark locks out of his face. "Well, when you wish upon a star, sometimes your dreams come true."

Paton looked up at the sky, the star and moonlight gradually bringing him from his muddled state of drowsiness and illuminating the wonder that shone on his face. "Really?" His exclamation was a loud whisper, caught on the wind and borne gently through the air.

He recalled his lessons in science then and frowned, eyeing her skeptically. "How?" His stare was intense and suspicious. Stars were just stars, after all—flaming balls of gas miles and miles away, incapable of affecting even the remotest of occurrences on earth.

Solange hugged him close to her. "My little skeptic," she teased, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt. "This is beyond science, mon petit," she explained. "There is a magic in the heavens that eludes reason. Think of every good event and person that you have ever known, and imagine them in the stars. They are with us in everything we do, chère, watching over us."

Paton weighed this carefully in his mind, mulling over his mother's words. Finally, the child in him won out, and the starlight lost itself in the wonderment that shone in his dark eyes. "They are?"

Solange nodded solemnly. "They are," she promised. "And even when you think these people that you know are gone, they are with you. They are in the stars."

This revelation, too, was methodically processed by Paton, conflicting with everything he had ever thought about life and death. On the fence, he bit his lip. "Will you be with me?" he asked, looking up at her accusingly. "Even when you are gone?" His eyes revealed the fear that she would deny this even as his face remained stoic.

Solange hugged her son to her side, relishing the rare opportunity to simply sit and hold him. "Always."

When Paton started Bloors, he tried to forget about the stars. Wishing was foolish; life took its course regardless of anything else. There was nothing in the stars, no one watching out for him—for anybody.

His mother was dead, his father grieving, his sisters malicious and triumphant.

What was there to wish?

He had nothing left.

Yet, try though he might to quell the dreams that had once burned so brightly, there remained within him a flickering spark of hope, spitting and flaring a ferocious red despite all that had happened. Try though he might, Paton had not been able to forget his mother's words, had been unable to drive her promises from his heart.

Night was a hard time for Paton. It was when he felt most himself, when he could release the reservations and inhibitions of the day and embrace himself in his entirety. Trapped in a dormitory full of uncomprehending and sleeping boys, it was also when he was most restricted.

The dormitory was stuffy, filled to capacity with one sleeping boy after another. It seemed to Paton that the walls shrank and the ceiling lowered, closing in around him and stifling him where he lay in his tiny bed. Claustrophobic, suffocating in the dim gloom of the hall, he rushed to the window and flung it open, thrusting his head outside and inhaling great gulps of crisp autumn air.

As the dizziness dissipated, he looked skywards where the stars twinkled brightly, their light unquenched, untroubled by the few wispy clouds flitting through the sky.

"You lied, Mom," Paton accused, staring up at the bright sky. "Wishing on a star doesn't make dreams come true. It doesn't change anything." He grimaced at how babyish he sounded. Immaturity was one thing he had always excelled at overriding, yet here he was talking to the sky and people who didn't exist.

His mother was dead, and he was sitting here talking to her as if she were not. He blinked, tears appearing in his eyes. Sniffling, he shook his head stubbornly, willing away the obstinate tears that still insisted on collecting. He had been doing so well with everything; why was it all hitting him now, at school, when he had to appear stoic and normal?

Paton imagined the stars were glaring at him, casting their silent, permanent judgment even as he watched, for they blazed on fiercely above him, undaunted by his or anyone else's inner turmoil. His resolve cracked.

"I wish it would." The words were nearly inaudible, ripped from the innermost part of him by that irresistible and indestructible part of childhood. "I wish there were some way for dreams to come true."

The tears he had been withholding suddenly burst free, breaking through his mental dam and cascading down his face. Half in, half out of the window, Paton allowed the cool wind to dry the water leaking from his eyes, blotting at his cheeks with the sleeve of his pajamas. Straining his gaze towards the stars, he allowed all of the emotion he never allowed free to show itself on his face.

"Mom, I wish you were here," he whispered hoarsely, glaring up at the sky accusingly. A blast of cold air hit him, whipping his hair violently about his face and banging the shutter against the side of the dormitory. Paton coughed, driving the frigid air from his lungs, and turned his tear-streaked face to the stars. "I wish you hadn't lied."

When Paton was twenty-eight and Lyell twenty-one, they went out for a rare night of carefree camaraderie. Lyell had a good friend in the owner of one of the local pubs, and had arranged for candlelight to be that night's décor, so Paton had no choice but to accompany his friend.

"To life!" Lyell toasted, raising his glass in the air with a broad smile.

"Cheers." Paton smacked his tankard into Lyell's with a slightly more reserved grin. They drank slowly, savoring the atmosphere and enjoying the liberation of being young and carefree.

It was so rare that Paton braved the city's nightlife at all, and rarer still for him to ignore his inhibitions and let loose. Lyell did not intend the night to go to waste, and so kept his friend's glass full and a smile upon his face.

Later, when night was well established and they had had their fill of fun, Paton and Lyell left the pub, bound for Paton's apartment on the outskirts of town. Mindful of Paton's endowment, they kept to dark roads and alleys, skirting neon signs and any traffic they happened to stumble across.

Crossing onto a particularly dark street lined with swaying elms, Paton paused, causing Lyell to crash into his back.

"Paton," his friend asked, confused by the sudden stop, "What are you doing?"

Paton ignored his friend, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky in wonder. "The stars," he breathed, his breath fogging in the cool night, "They're so bright tonight." The heavenly bodies in question sat high in their usual positions, bright specks against the black velvet of the night sky.

Puzzled but willing to play along, Lyell allowed his gaze to drift heavenward as well, drinking in the tranquility offered by the night and its far-flung fiery companions. "That they are," he agreed, deeply inhaling the rich autumn air. Curious, he turned to Paton. "You rarely ever look at the sky, though. What's with the interest tonight?"

Paton put his hands in his pockets and shrugged, keeping his face tilted up towards the silver light. "My mother used to say those we love, those who have moved on, are in the stars. She insisted that they are up there watching over us—that when we make a wish they will seek it, guide us to happier times." Saying it now, out loud and to his best friend, he felt silly for ever believing it. He laughed, passing a hand embarrassedly over his eyes and looking towards the ground. "I know it's silly," he told the pavement, his fear of mockery driving him to avoid Lyell's eyes.

"I know it's silly," he repeated, "but I can't help remembering it. I can't help wishing every now and then—" Breaking off, he stood silently for a minute, lost in thought. Finally, he turned grinned sheepishly at Lyell, his eyes offering a silent apology. "It's nonsense, I know, but it's my nonsense."

Lyell nodded in understanding and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I understand," he said simply. "Never let that go, no matter what happens." His smile bore a trace of sadness as he watched his friend. Paton had been through so much already, and likely had many more troubles on the way. He shook his head to clear away any negative thoughts. "Never let that go," he repeated firmly.

The two friends stood for a long while on that darkened road, silently gazing up at the stars blanketing the sky.

When Paton met Julia Ingledew, he knew it was an opportunity for happiness that he would never have again. Every time they spoke, his heart was in his throat; he was absolutely terrified that he would somehow mess up, would somehow err and cause her to leave him.

Paton did not want to be alone anymore.

He wanted friends, and family—and love. Understanding and compassion were foreign bodies to Paton, or at least the receiving end of them. He desired nothing so much as acceptance and love, proof that he, too, was still human.

As with any other night, Paton felt far more at ease now that the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. The coming of darkness took a load off of his shoulders, the blanketing silence that accompanied sweeping through the house and easing his stress.

Though there had been rain earlier, the sky was now clear and bright, and Paton free to fling open his window at Number 9 and look up at the twinkling heavens. Feeling sillier with each moment that passed, he squeezed his eyes closed and leaned further out the window, straining towards the oldest of his friends.

"Please," he murmured, not quite sure who he was addressing. Were his pleas to Fate, unreachable, cruel Fate, that demented force that constantly toyed with his life like a cat with a mouse, batting him around for sheer entertainment?

Was he trying to reach his mother, long dead but never forgotten, the last, desperate plea of a beloved son with nothing else to lose?

Or, was he simply reaching for the stars, distant and eternally symbolic as they were, and always would be?

Paton had no idea.

"Please…" He spoke still, his voice little more than a whisper, and he focused all his energy on imagining a future, on hoping and dreaming. He thought of Charlie and Julia and he hoped, more than he ever had before. He thought of the struggle between the endowed, and allowed himself to dream of a victorious end.

He thought of the future, and he dreamed, one possibility flitting by after another, teasing him and dancing through his yearning mind. He thought of the stars, and he wished, wished for happiness, wished for a future with Julia, a future at all—and his wishes came true.


And there is the end of Secret Three! What did you like or dislike about this chapter? Drop me a review and let me know!