Disclaimer in first part

Hello all

Chapter 4 finally up (sorry about the delay), Chapter 5 hopefully up sometime before the weekend.

Thanks and comments to the following:

BlindSeer: Cheers! ;-) Not very quickly I'm afraid, but chapter 5 should be quicker. As for your question - yeah, that's pretty much my intention, except I think Will himself will start to doubt his own mental stability too…

Ski-Ming Bitch: Thanks. I think Susan Cooper is at great pains to point out that Will is an Old One AND a young boy, and I don't think it's too much of a stretch to suppose that he's going to be deeply conflicted because of that.

Norah-hunt: I hope you won't be disappointed by where this goes!

Kalariah: I agree, I think Will's left in a pretty sad position myself. I was always worried by the lack of resolution in Silver on the Tree - what is Will supposed to be watching for? How's he going to cope with the responsibility? I think Merriman's too caught up in being 'mystical' to care much about how Will is feeling. Yes, Jane will continue to be friendly - can't say the same for Simon though…

Silent H: Sorry you're confused - but Will's even more confused than any of us! Hope things will get clearer for you.

Just a visitor: Bran will be a big ally in all this, but Will has to go home and face his family first, so his intervention will be from afar for a while. Chapter 5 will be Bran's POV, though.

CHAPTER FOUR

Introspection and conversation

The kitchen clock crept towards half-past seven and Will sat, quiet and unnoticed for the moment. Calmer than he had been a couple of hours before, but still unsure, still realising that more had changed than had thought.

Perhaps, he considered, the question shouldn't have been, Who am I? But, Who was I? Who was the Will that existed in the heads of his friends? He thought about Cornwall and considered that really, there was little about his interaction with the Drews that they shouldn't be able to legitimately remember, but in their version of events, there would surely be no resolution of their initial and instinctive mistrust of him. No realisation of his bond with Merriman. No motivation for Simon to rein back his genuine dislike. That it was genuine dislike, even jealousy, Will had no doubt. The why for it was much less clear. And of course, they would have brought those feelings to Wales. Were they shocked when they had seen him on that hillside? Dismayed? Angry, even?

The question remained. What exactly did they remember?

Will rubbed his chin meditatively against his lifted knees. He considered the possibility that Merriman had not merely erased the pertinent events from their minds, but substituted new memories. New conversations, subtly different from the original. New events, removing the fear and the uncertainty. What memories had replaced the glory of the shining silver blossom on the tree? Could such a deep-reaching spell even be done? Will could not think of anything contained within the Book of Gramarye that even touched on power of such complexity. Unless… Well there was always the possibility that there was far more to be learned about his power than Merriman had told him.

That thought alone, and the faint mistrust it implied, was enough to disturb him more than all the rest.

Will sighed heavily and hunched his face forwards into the valley between his knees and chest, wrapping his arms securely around his legs. The dry, analytical part of his mind recognised the posture as the foetal position of insecurity but he made no attempt to move out of it. He was too concerned by his continued confusion. He felt much better physically - Auntie Jen had force-fed him a couple of sandwiches and an apple and on returning to his room, he had surprised himself by falling deeply and dreamlessly asleep. However, the illusion of serenity when he awoke, refreshed, a couple of hours later, had quickly disappeared. Nearly his first thought had been that it was his memories of the past two years that were illusory and he had had to spend his waking moments fighting back adrenaline pumping panic.

Now he just felt tired again. Tired and paranoid and oddly resentful. There was another trial ahead as well. The Drews were returning shortly to say their goodbyes - their train was leaving Aberdyfy early the next morning. Goodbye to their twice-acquainted barely-friend Will Stanton and the odd Welsh boy with an odder sounding name. The properly brought-up and polite thing to do. Will would have been amused if he hadn't felt so emotionally battered. So here he was, sat halfway up the back staircase of the old farmhouse, gathering courage. Waiting.

There was a knock at the front door, muffled so that he barely startled. He lifted his head nonetheless and the soft lilt of Welsh voices drifted up to him.

Bran.

Will wanted - no needed to talk to Bran, but he couldn't do it tonight. Not while there were to be so many confusing and conflicting emotions to deal with. The voices moved nearer to his position, into the warm kitchen that was the real heart of the house. When Will had been to Wales the first time, when he had still felt ill and disinclined to do anything energetic, he had liked to sit near the range in a puddle of warmth, listening to the musical voices around him. The Welsh language, barely understood, but strangely inclusive nonetheless. He listened to it again, but this time hidden in shadow, feeling like a stranger to people he cared for.

Will wrapped his arms more securely around his tucked up knees and rested his cheek against the carved wooden banister of the staircase. He could smell the faint patina of beeswax and the dark wood was smooth and cool against his skin. The old house seemed to shift and creak around him, which was oddly comforting, but the voices from the kitchen became indistinct, so he reluctantly lifted his head into its previous listening posture.

He supposed he should go downstairs and greet everyone but was reluctant to leave the illusion of security the quiet dark spot he sat in afforded him. He would go down when the Drews arrived in any case, but found himself drawing his knees in tighter at the thought and wondered just why he felt so unable to meet them.

I'll never see them again, after today…

He didn't know where the thought came from, but it sprang into his mind with a certainty that shook him and left him closer to tears than he had been for several years. He could give no reason why he was so sure, only that everything had changed. He had felt so close to them under the midsummer tree; the Old One in him had delighted in their determination, their gallantry. He remembered the awe in Barney's face and the radiance of Jane's smile…

"Hello Mrs. Evans."

Barney's cheerful voice startled Will out of his thoughts sending a frisson of nervous energy through him. So immersed had he been in his memories, he had not even heard the knock on the door. This was his cue of course, but he was frozen in place. Waiting again.

Waiting for what?

"Hello, dear. Come in all of you. Can I take your coat, Jane?"

The gentleness of Auntie Jen's adopted Welsh lilt was soothing after the clipped English tones of the youngest Drew.

"Thanks Mrs. Evans"

Will found himself relaxing imperceptibly at Jane's voice. So very…normal.

"Hello, Jenny-oh"

Layers of affection in Bran's teasing voice. Will relaxed almost into a smile. This too was normal. This he remembered from before.

He likes her. It's the first time they've met, but you can hear it in his voice.

Will did smile then as the conversation merrily continued. What was it about Bran and Jane? They were still his friends, surely? He found himself rising to his feet before the thought had finished. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all?

"Where's Will?"

Simon's voice. Curiosity and…something else? Will paused.

Auntie Jen answered in comfortable tones, "He's upstairs, I think. He went for a lie down"

A short silence followed. Then a soft sound, somewhere between and snort and a cough, but one in which the meaning was not at all lost on the listeners.

Amused contempt.

Will froze.

"Simon!"

Jane's horrified whisper seemed to make the tension worse. Will held his breath in anticipation. Would Simon's uncharacteristic rudeness be politely ignored?

"What was that for, then?"

Apparently not.

Bran's voice was quiet, measured, almost hesitant. Will knew that out of all of them, the Welsh boy could not let the moment pass unchallenged.

Simon's laugh in response seemed forced and self-conscious.

"I didn't mean anything," he said lightly. "Only…"

Silence as he trailed off. No one was going to pull him out of his hole it seemed.

"Only what, lad?"

Uncle David's voice was quiet, as always, but sterness tempered it.

"What would you say of Will that you couldn't say to his face?" he continued.

Will knew it was a question designed to embarrass Simon into an apology. He didn't think it would work, though. Some dark and formless warning seemed to be growing in his mind. He began to wonder…

"I...I. Well…" Simon broke off and laughed again with forced nonchalance. "I didn't mean to be rude. I just thought suddenly…I mean, why would he want to lie down after such a short walk as we had?"

It was not bad as a cover, but Will thought he could still hear a touch of contempt in the contrite voice. The contempt of a healthy, unreflective boy for someone not quite like him. Uncle David had obviously come to the same conclusion for his voice became a little more agitated,

"It wasn't just 'a short walk' that occurred today, I'm thinking…" he began, but Auntie Jen rapidly interrupted him.

"Hush now, David" she began soothingly, "you're embarrassing the lad. It's been a long and hard day for everyone. He likely forgot that Will was feeling poorly earlier, didn't you, love?" The last question was obviously directed towards Simon.

Bless you, Auntie Jen

"Oh. Yes of course." Simon's voice sounded relieved, but some vague instinct for danger was bringing a tightness to Will's chest.

"I forgot. He…fainted, didn't he?"

Oh my God.

Simon hadn't even attempted to disguise the contempt in his voice this time. It was obvious to everyone in the room. Will heard the horrified inrush of Auntie Jen's voice and stared at his hands, desperately wondering what on earth he'd done to Simon to make him hate him so much.

"Simon…"

The outrage was drained from Jane's voice. She sounded puzzled, tremulous.

Suddenly it was unendurable. More unendurable still to overhear this than to take it face on. A tremor passed convulsively through his hands, then Will thrust them quickly into the pockets of his jeans and thumped noisily down the stairs before another word could be uttered.

"Evening, everyone", he said cheerfully from the kitchen door.

The tension snapped, swirled, reformed itself into a new pattern. Will was almost, almost tempted to stop time just to study the looks on their faces. He wasn't even halfway sure that he would get the spell right, though and besides, he wanted to see how Simon interacted with him. He wanted to seek a denial of the suspicion growing in his mind.

"Will, love! Did you have a nice rest, then?"

Auntie Jen bustled over, her cheeks suspiciously pink and a searching, anxious look in her kind eyes. Will tore his eyes away from the fascinating sight of Jane's embarrassed face and the hint of gritted teeth in Bran's jaw and smiled at his Aunt.

She wants to know if I heard anything, but knows she can't ask…

"Lovely, thanks. All this country air making me sleepy, I think"

A polite, amused snort from Uncle David's direction,

"And you a country boy yourself!"

Will grinned at him,

"Ah, but we don't have mountains in Buckinghamshire. Unless you count the Chilterns?"

Bran provided the expected response to Will's extremely mild jest.

"Pah! The Chilterns? They're hills. Flat ones too. That the best you can do?"

"Guess so" Will replied good-naturedly. He could feel the relaxing of tension in the room like feathers against his skin. Still smiling, although the expression felt forced, Will turned back towards Jane.

"Hello" he said, feeling the rigidity of his cheeks muscles soften at the relief on her face.

"Hello, Will"

"Hi, Barney" said Will, moving on. He was quietly amused at the lowered head and shuffling feet of the younger brother, the boy not old enough to cope with the complex emotions flying around the room. He received a reluctant, muffled greeting, but had already shifted his attention to the elder brother.

"Simon", he said, as neutrally as he could manage. Auntie Jen shifted at his side as if she was trying to prevent herself from intervening and Will wondered if his tone was rather too flat after all. His fists clenched slowly at his sides. He felt stretched and hyper-aware; was the dread he felt instinct or paranoia?

Simon raised his head and looked Will in the eye.

"Will", he said. Just as neutral. Just as flat.

Will slowly pulled in his breath and stared back. He fought a wince at the glaring contempt in the other boy's eyes and forced himself to take his time. He'd have to be pretty stupid not to realise that Simon despised him by now, but he was looking for something quite different…

See as an Old One…

Will blinked. Time seemed to slow; the heavy tick of the kitchen clock grew laboured, the sound lingering unnaturally in his ears. An unseen breeze ruffled Will's fringe. Strange to be using his power like this, so soon after it should have been unnecessary.

Simon looked levelly back, his eyes dark.

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The Drews didn't stay long. Their parents were picking them up on their way back from a restaurant in Taliesin and they had an early start the next morning. The conversation in the kitchen had stuttered and struggled and Will had contributed little to it. Auntie Jen and Bran had talked the most, as Will had expected but he sensed in both of them a desire just as strong as his own to see the guests leave.

He had shaken their hands - it was what one did, wasn't it? Simon's too, although the clasp had been brief and reluctant. Jane's hand had lingered longer in his own and he had felt warmed by it; touched too when he felt a slip of paper pressed against his palm and suspected that it was her address. Did she want him to write to him, then? He was gratified and she bestowed a smile of more sweetness upon him than Will felt he deserved.

Go away, Jane. I'm an idiot. I thought your brother had been possessed by the Dark.

He cringed internally at the thought. Just how stupid was he anyway? Was he so unbalanced he was seeing monsters under every bed?

Is this what it's going to be like from now on?

Of course Simon hadn't been possessed. He was perfectly normal, perfectly human. He had known that even before his supernatural sense had taken over but had not been able to comprehend it. That was why he had felt no relief, only a slow, heavy wash of self-loathing.

Simon didn't hate him because he was an Old One. Simon hated him because he was Will Stanton.

He couldn't say he felt very good about that.

"I'm off home too. Da will be fretting."

Bran's voice startled Will out of his thoughts. He suddenly and desperately wanted his friend to stay, but made no move to prevent him leaving. He settled for looking steadily into those strange tawny eyes. Bran looked at him intently as he backed towards the kitchen door.

"We'll talk tomorrow?" he said softly. It was phrased as a question, but sounded more like a command.

"Yes," said Will simply and returned Bran's sudden surprised smile.

White hair flashed in the soft light and the door closed.

"Will?"

Will sighed inaudibly and pushed his hair back from his face as he turned to his Uncle.

"I know it's none of my business, like, but…"

David Evans paused, his earnest face tense with concern and reluctance to intrude. Will felt a surge of affection for him.

"Yes?"

"Did anything happen today? With your friends?"

A series of mad, kaleidoscopic images whirled through Will's mind. A horse of bone, a burning sword, the Afanc by the lake, Barney's grin of triumph…a flood of emotion - terror, heartbreak, sadness…

"I don't know," he replied finally, as truthfully as he could.

TBC

Coming soon…Chapter Five: My friend, Will Stanton

In which Bran will get his say…