I month later

Lynn did not sleep well.

Every night she was plagued with dreams- nightmares. Creatures with pupil-less black eyes- like staring into the abyss- chasing her, catching her, drowning her… High jagged rocks and dark cavernous spaces. Being crushed by rockfall so tight it squeezed the air out of her lungs and into a scream.

Lynn dragged herself out of bed and pulled on a robe around her thin nightgown. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and looked away again. Pale and exhausted from the night before, purple shadows beneath her eyes. She felt so…heavy. Sometimes the loss felt like a physical thing.

"Do you want to go to the park today, darling? Its lovely weather." Lynn could hear the hopeful chipper in her mother's voice and tried not to wince.

"Not today, Mama," she said quietly, pushing away from the table. Three spoonfuls. Surely that was enough for the morning. "I think… I'd like to rest first."

Lynn knew what they were thinking, saw the worried glances her parents had been sharing with increasing frequency over her head. She wanted to make an effort, truly- she was just so…tired.

3 months later

A kindly old doctor (who reminded her of Aesop) encouraged her to eat if nothing else; taught her how to pretend enough to remove the worried, pinched look from her parents' eyes. It was so difficult though. Being in the house where she'd once been happy, enjoying the food, clothes, the rides in the curricle. All things her brothers used to-

Lynn fought back the memories and smiled when she realised her parents were looking, even though her heart was splintering inside.

I year and 10 months later

It was easier once signs of puberty bloomed within her and she became a woman. She was glad for the physical changes in her body, not because they made her more beautiful, as everyone insisted on commenting, but because she knew she was too old to ever be taken now.

Lynn was determined to lock away the memories. She would never forget- she couldn't. There was a tingle on the back of her neck and an amulet she hated, but was terrified to part with for fear of something worse, that reminded her of what she'd been through every single day. But she was determined to make use of this life she'd been given, this chance she'd been given, and not waste it by withering away like a husk.

But she could not do so in this house; in this city where too many people recognised her face and whispered when she walked past. Where people stammered and apologised when they mentioned her brothers. Where they treated her as though she was as fragile as she felt inside.

So over time, she convinced her parents to send her away to finishing school. As far away from England as she could, where the memories wouldn't haunt her like the ghosts of dead children, and no one knew who she was.

2 years later

"I don't understand why this deuced nonsense is happening," huffed her father, as they watched Lynn's corded luggage being unloaded. "We just got you back, why on Earth should I let you out of my sight now? I have half a mind to call this whole ridiculousness off!" Lynn turned pleading eyes to her mother.

His wife laid a restraining hand on his forearm and his grumblings fell silent though the unhappy scowl on his face remained. "She'll be fine, George. Now say goodbye to your daughter, we need to be leaving if we want to catch our train."

Lynn was gathered into a gruff hug, her arms coming up to reach around her father's neck as he pressed a long kiss into the top of her head. "I'll write you all the time, Papa," she whispered. "I'll be back before you know it." She felt him nod against her hair and then she was pushed into her mother's arms while her father cleared the effects of 'hayfever' from his eyes.

"My beautiful little girl," murmured her mother as she gathered Lynn into her lilac-scented warmth, heart beating securely against her cheek. "He'll miss you terribly you know," her mother said, pulling back to frame Lynn's face in her hands. "We will miss you so very, very much, darling girl." Lynn could see the unshed tears in her mothers eyes, heard the slight wobble in her voice, despite the smile she wore.

"I'll be home before you know it," she promised.

4 years later

Lynn was happy at the school. She made friends that she grew to love and no one knew or asked her about her ordeal. Somehow she'd found her old spark, the elusive flash of happiness that had always seemed just beyond her grasp. It was like reclaiming some of her lost childhood back. She still had nightmares but they came less frequently and she'd learned to wake up before she began screaming.

She learned how to dance and debate and speak other languages. She roamed the hillside on her days off with some of the other girls, reminding her of long-ago memories, but they were easier to control now; the sadness didn't overwhelm her the way it used to.

The pendant's weight against her breastbone was so familiar, Lynn hardly noticed it anymore.

6 years later

Finally a woman, and too old for the academy anymore, Lynn returned to London for her first season. She was a beauty, like her mother, and the most sought after girl in the room. 5 years of finishing school were not wasted on her and Lynn never left with her dance card empty.

Time away from London had made her forget the pettiness and childishness of her old friends, and she found herself spending more and more time on her own. She knew she was expected to find a husband but when she turned down her third suitor, to the disappointment of her parents ('He was perfectly respectable, Lynn, really,'), she realised with a pang in her heart that she was secretly looking for laughing blue eyes, sun-kissed skin and an easy loose-limbed grace. Nothing she would find among the alabaster aristocracy she was surrounded by now.

8 years later

He had wavy brown hair and whiskey-gold eyes.

She hadn't meant for it to happen.

But he was kind and witty and above all else, persistent-

He'd travelled to France and Spain and spoke almost as many languages as she could. He made it a game to converse about the most ridiculous things - if he should take up unicycling; whether chickens could fly; were cocker spaniels better than beagles. He'd come right up to her at parties and whisper perfectly mundane sentences in the most scandalous tones of voice. He dared her to smile. He teased out the sort of laughter she hadn't heard from herself in years.

Suddenly the parties her parents dragged her to weren't the misery they once had been.

When he finally proposed, it didn't occur to her to refuse.

10 years later

She was terrified of having children; for the longest time didn't think it would be something she would have to consider. Then he came along and suddenly, children were a possibility again. Except they weren't, not for her.

He was patiently confused. He'd couldn't understand why his wife, who was brilliant with children and had her heart in her eyes every time she held one of their nieces or nephews, didn't want a child of her own.

So she told him. Reminded him of her past and her childhood terrors; how she couldn't possibly put a child of hers at risk like that by bringing it into the world.

He was understanding at first. But eventually he broached the subject again, saying things were safer now: there were more police, they'd put locks on the windows, move away to the country…

So she had to tell him more. Slowly, and with fits and starts that had tears clogging up her throat so tight she couldn't breathe, she told him. Not all of it, but enough.

Finally, he understood. He acquiesced. He never pushed her about it again. But she knew he was miserable; knew he wanted children more than anything. Saw the naked longing in his eyes whenever they visited his brothers. He had given her so much: love, laughter, a home…

The tingle on the back of her scalp, that feeling of constantly being watched, barely bothered her these days; the amulet nothing more than a morbid keepsake she wore out of a familiar paranoia. Surely she could give him this one thing…

10 years, 9 months later

When she finally had her child, the fear returned, and she struggled with sleep once more. James kept every promise he'd made to her; strong-armed one of his friends in the police to patrol their house at night and put locks on all the windows. Lynn began to feel guilty when she saw the lengths he was going to; apologised for her neuroses. But he simply kissed her brow and reminded her of his vow to keep their family safe.

15 years later

Lynn fretted when her daughter turned 4, like Michael was. Knew she would fret again when little Janie, and the baby they'd decided to call Michael, turned 8 like John was, and 10 like she'd been when it happened. The windows were bolted every night.

It had taken months and years but eventually the need to check on her children in the middle of the night grew less panicked and more habit; a compulsion she couldn't shake.

18 years later

There were no winners in times of war, was all Lynn could think when siren after siren warning them of imminent bombs rang through the air like church bells. Her husband had been drafted of course, every young fit man was. And eventually the too young and not-too fit men were drafted as well. What really tore at her heart were the children left behind: the motherless, fatherless souls with empty eyes and emptier bellies, scrounging for scraps and begging from the rationing line. The look in their eyes were too similar to ones she had seen before. She took in as many as she could, helped them when she could, volunteered as often as she could.

At night, she hugged her children close and prayed her husband would return to them safe.

21 years later (present day)

He smiled, one hand loosening the knot at his throat as he mounted the stairs at not-quite a run. Shadows danced in the hallway, played across his smiling features. He followed the sound of children's laughter and a woman's warm voice to the nursery, watching the scene before him with a sense of warmth unfurling in his chest.

"…and just as he climbed to the very tippy-top of the mountain-"

"But mama, tippy-top isn't a real word. It isn't- is it mama?" The little girl was the spitting image of her mother with dark hair and green eyes. She had a serious little mouth set in a serious little face, her dark hair hanging to her shoulders and brushed straight. Her little nightgown was spotless and fastened with a pink bow beneath her chin.

A little boy sat next to the girl, younger than her by a few years. He was ruddy cheeked with a smudge of dirt or chocolate - or God only knew what else- smeared on his cheek, his pyjama feet a little grubby but otherwise relatively clean. His hair on the right side had been brushed smooth but the locks on the left side stood up in twenty different directions; clearly he had not succumbed to the bedtime routine with as much grace as his sister. His eyes were hazel instead of green- eyes that were currently flashing fire.

"It is too, Janie!" he protested.

"It is not!"

"Is too!"

"Children," the woman chided. "No, tippy-top isn't a real word but you can use it in stories if you want."

Now there was a vision of beauty if ever he'd seen one. Hair the colour of fire-roasted chestnuts at christmas; eyes like twin emerald pools you could drown in without complaint and the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. And underneath all the pretty packaging, she had a heart as soft as a goose-down mattress- not to mention a temper that flared brighter than a bonfire on Guy Fawkes'. Five minutes in her presence and he'd fallen for her hook, line and sinker. Gwendolyn Darling. How he'd ever managed to convince to marry him he'd never know.

The little boy stuck his tongue out at his sister triumphantly, who folded her arms and frowned in response.

"Now, where was I?"

"Tom was climbing to the top!" said the little boy excitedly. He clambered onto his mother's lap while the little girl sat crossed legged at her mother's feet, a too-serious expression still on her young face.

"Ah yes," said the woman snuggling the boy closer, the firelight highlighting the reds in her hair as she bent her head. "Tom climbed to the very top, huffing and puffing, and aching all over because climbing mountains is very tiring business-"

"But he could do it mama because Tom's the bestest adventurer ever, isn't he?"

Lynn laughed as little Janie threw her arms up in exasperation. "Bestest isn't a word either, Michael!"

"I can say bestest if I want to," five-year-old Michael insisted. "Bestest, bestest, bestest!"

Lynn looked up at the moment and caught sight of him stifling his laughter in the doorway. Her eyes lit up but the smile on her mouth quickly turned mischievous. "And when Tom finally reached the top, what should he find but a big, grey, terrifying MONSTER!"

That was his cue.

James rushed forward into the room with his hands curved into claws above his head and scooped Janie up with a roar. The little girl shrieked with laughter as her father tucked her under his arm and swooped her around the room.

"DADDY! I want up too! UP! UP!" said Michael, jumping up and down on his mother's lap.

"Oh you do, do you?" said James, crouching down in front of him. "Up you go then." Agile as a monkey Michael climbed onto his father's back, wrapping his arms around his father's throat in a grip tight enough to choke. "Here we go!" He flew them around the room before depositing them in a giggling heap on their beds.

He stretched his arms above his head with a wince.

"Getting a little old and sore are we, Mr. Monster?" came a voice from behind him.

James smiled as he felt his wife wrap her arms around him. "Well he wouldn't be if there weren't always monsters in this Tom fellow's adventures." Her laughter washed over him like a warm caress and he turned around to properly greet his wife.

"Children, say good night to your father," she said pulling back their bedding.

"Awwww, but we're not tired yet," they chorused.

"But what about me? I am very, very tired," said James, tucking them in while Lynn locked the windows, setting the key on a high ledge out of the children's reach.

"Then you go to bed," said Michael, already fidgeting out of his blanket. "I'll tuck you in, Daddy."

James laughed out loud. "How about I sing you a song? And then we'll see how tired you are."

"Sing the one about the pirates," demanded Michael.

James turned to his daughter. "Janie?"

"I'll tell cook to send up your dinner," whispered Lynn, leaving the room with a kiss on his cheek.

"I want the one about the fish," she said.

"Trust you to pick the most boring one, Janie," grumbled her brother, settling himself into his blankets just the same. "Now I'm sure to fall asleep."

James fought the smile threatening his lips and cleared his throat.

"Down in the meadow, past an azure blue pool

Swam two little fishies & a mama fishie too…"

"Are they asleep?"

James nodded, unbuttoning his shirt as he spoke. "Michael was out like a light." He shrugged out of his sleeves, leaving his undershirt. "But our little girl is too serious by half… At the end of it she told me that even though it was a nice song she knew it wasn't true because 'humans can't become little fishies'. I swear, Lynn, she's 10 going on 30."

Lynn smiled. "She reminds me of John. He was just like her."

"Your brother?" James paused. His wife rarely spoke about her brothers. "Was he a stickler for grammar too?"

"No," she mused. "But he was obsessed with things being correct and he took his duties as an older brother very seriously, even though he was younger than me," she added with a small smile.

James came to his wife and wrapped his arms around her, holding her while she fought the unpleasant memories. "Well, we can be glad that she takes after your little brother and not mine," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "God forbid either of them turn out like Nick." He shuddered thinking of his altogether too charming, irresponsible younger brother.

"Oh, I don't know. I think Michael could definitely wreak some havoc with those eyes of his."

James pulled back in surprise. "But they're just like mine."

"Exactly," said Lynn, pressing a kiss to his lips. "And look at the trouble they got me into."

"Well," he said with a pleased smile. "You were hardly a wallflower yourself. I thought myself exceedingly lucky to land the attentions of the 'Darling of the Ball'."

Lynn wrinkled her nose and climbed into bed. "I so hated that nickname."

"But whatever for, darling?" said James. "I thought it was an absolutely darling nickname. In fact, d- oof" A well-aimed pillow muffled the end of his sentence while his wife sat primly in bed.

"You were saying?"

James hefted the pillow with a grin curling the corner of his mouth. "You're going to regret that, darling."

Lynn shrieked with laughter and dove out the way.

...


"Tea, dear?"

"Yes please," said James, frantically stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth. "Have you seen my briefcase?"

"It's by the door, dear," said Lynn with an amused smile as she watched her husband try to down his breakfast while his valet, Mason, tied his cravat. "I do wonder why you don't just get Mason to wake you up a little earlier every morning. It might actually give you time to brush your hair once in a while."

"Mmph- need my sleep," said James, taking a sip of his tea and wincing as he burned his tongue. "Are you meeting the charity ladies today?"

"Yes," said Lynn, stirring her own cup of tea. "The fundraiser was a great success last week so we're to distribute the funds to the various orphanages today."

"I hope all goes well," said James, standing up and running his hands through his hair hurriedly. Mason gave a little yelp at the sight of his master's hair and rushed for the comb. "No time for that Mason," said James jovially. He leaned down to press a smacking kiss against his wife's cheek and rushed out the door. "Have good day, dear!"

"The man is a hurricane," Lynn said with a shake of her head and a smile.

"MAMA!" came a wail from upstairs.

"Like father like son." Two minutes later Michael burst into the dining room, a flustered nanny trailing in his wake. Lynn had never expected to live in the Darling house again. But when she and James got married, her parents (who had long lived in their country estate anyway) had gifted the townhouse to the young couple for their wedding. She could hardly refuse, though she suspected her parents left the house for the same reason she had. It was not until Lynn had her own children; quiet and serious Jane, little rambunctious Michael, that the gloom settled over the house finally lifted. Laughter filled the air, toys and prams once more littered the hallways, and smells of cook's heavenly baking seemed to perpetually fill the air.

Michael grabbed the hem of her skirts and clambered onto her lap, clasping her cheeks between his little palms. "Mama! I have to tell you this dream I had last night, it was the most different dream I ever had but Edith says I have to start my lessons but I absolutely have to tell you this dream, Mama!"

Lynn regarded her son, knowing he was far too cherubic for his own good and that he was using the ruse of this dream to delay his lessons.

"Very well," she said, taking his hands away from her face. "But only 5 minutes and then you must go back to your lessons." And he off he went, his hands settling around her neck and playing with the pendant she wore there. Lynn let her mind wander to the events she had planned later in the day. First there were the ladies to host and the budget to discuss and then orphanage visits, which would take at least an hour each, and probably more for Lynn could never tear herself away in the allotted time, not when there were so many children starved of attention and love and so little time to give to each… She was torn away from her musings by an insistent tugging at her neck.

"Michael stop," she said, placing her hand over his. "You'll break the chain."

"But Mama," he said plaintively, "it's already broken."

"What?"

"There," he said tracing a thin black line running from the top of the once pristine white gem, straight down the middle, cleaving it neatly in two. The metal filigree setting held the halves together- but only just. The opalescent gem she once wore lay dull and grey against her breast. "How come its not falling out Mama?"

Lynn felt her heart stop. Fear snaked down her spine and coiled in the pit of her stomach.

Michael felt her stiffening and looked up in confusion. "Mama?"

Lynn turned wild eyes onto her son. He was barely older than her own brother Michael was when he was taken away. She catalogued his features, her panicked mind searching for comfort; the curl of hair across his forehead; the smear of strawberry jam across his cheek; the faintest freckles dusting his cheeks. Her precious baby boy. Lynn's throat closed up over a scream. It was all her nightmares come to life. She almost expected night to descend on them now and for her children to be whisked away from her.

A voice she had suppressed to the furtherest corners of her mind reverberated through her head as though spoken anew

'I placed protective enchantments on it…'

It was cracked now; did it mean that protection was no longer in place?

She felt all of twelve years old again and completely helpless. How was she to protect her family when borders and sea were no obstacle? When the ones they were running from could cross space and time in the blink of an eye; could paralyse you with a single thought; could kill in cold blood and did not know remorse enough to feel it. She wasn't even sure who- or what- they were running from.

"Mama," protested Michael, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "Mama, you're squishing me."

Lynn loosened her grip, not even aware that she'd been squeezing him. She took a deep breath, and then another; moistened her lips before she spoke. "I'm sorry, darling-"

"Come along Master Michael," said Nanny Edith, "it's time for your lessons."

Michael went without a word of protest looking back over his shoulder at his went.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.


A/N: Guess who's finally done with studying to resurrect and complete this old carcass… Final chapter, anyone? (I just wanted to say thank you so much to anyone and everyone who's ever read this old thing. I have a few fun extra chapters lined up as penance xxx)