Hello, I'm back! I promise I haven't forgotten about you. Life has been getting in the way and my workload is manic. I don't know why I expected a degree to be anything less. Anyway, this chapter will be split into parts due to the extreme length of the meeting. I hope it is worth the wait.

Oh, and one more thing. I know this is a slow burn fic but now that the initial dominoes have fallen, and the story is moving on track to an end; things are about to start happening very quickly. Can you call over forty chapters in 'quickly?' Possibly not, but the pace of certain plotlines is about to pick up. I imagine many of you will be pleased.

"Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—toll

The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,

To love me also in silence with thy soul."

~ Sonnet 21 (Say over again), Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)

Chapter Forty -Silence with thy soul, Part One

"Knox, the meeting is tonight," Kathleen slammed a fourth volume of poems down in front of him. "You need to choose something or else you'll never learn the words in time."

For the third time, a small tear began to form beneath his restless fingers as he scoured the volume, "it has to be perfect!"

She pulled his hand away from her book, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "What could be more perfect than you not tearing the pages of my books?" She scolded him lightly and turned the fragile page herself. "They are old but gold, and I would prefer to keep them in their current golden condition."

He apologised, slowing his pace as he grabbed the next book and ran his fingers through his hair instead; he created a new victim of his anxiety with each harsh tug.

"You heard what Keating said, Knoxious," Nuwanda leaned back in his seat with an affected air of nonchalance blanketing what Kathleen saw as blatant concern, "poetry is for wooing women. Whatever you pick will work."

"But it's written by women!"

He shrugged, "doesn't matter. But if it really bothers you pick something by Sappho.*"

"Who is Sa-wait?" The pair leaned forwards as Knox traced a page with a gentleness he had neglected almost all day. "This is perfect!" He exclaimed, snapping the book closed before they could decipher the sonnet.

Kat pivoted in her seat as he sprung out of his seat. "What's perfect?" Knox?"

"He's gone."

"So is my book," she grumbled.

Nuwanda moved the battered books into a neat pile at the edge of the table. He kept his head down, amused by her petulant expression at her exclusion from Knox's plan. "I wouldn't worry too much, it's in a better place" he paused, looking up to catch the change in her features "or at least it will be when he's finished."

As expected, her mouth fell open. "I resent that."

He waited.

She glared back. But he could see the struggle against the glimmer of mirth fighting its way in. Barely a minute passed before she broke. Without moving her eyes, she grasped for the eraser abandoned on the table top and while he was distracted by her glare she flicked it at his arm.

"Cheat."

With a shrug she swept the pile of books into her arms, "I thought you would have learned not to mess with my books by now" she chastised with a grin. "See you at midnight," she called over her shoulder as she left the library.

XXXX

Moonlight dripped through the splintered canopy above turning the last of the crisp, autumn leaves silver and lighting the poet's path as they weaved through the darkened woodland. Upon reaching the mouth of the cave Neil's torch flickered. It's beam pulsing in time to their heartbeats as if it had been influenced by the electrified nerves of the teenagers crossing the threshold to freedom.

They fell into a familiar rhythm of action, underpinned by the quiet hum of faded chatter and pages rustling over the crackle of burning wood as the fire sprang to life. Its crimson lustre grew, creeping across the space until the 'God of the cave' was saturated in its bloody hue.

"Make room for the girls," Neil instructed. He ducked out from the blinding light to settle next to Todd, but his gaze remained fixed through the haze on the shadowy opening.

Pitts frowned from his position on the floor with the refreshments. After scanning the pickings one last time he picked up a muffin and threw it to Charlie. "Hey, Nuwanda. I'll swap you for a drink." With a shrug he produced a flask from his pocket and handed it over. Pitts unscrewed it with sigh. "I can't believe I'll be sitting with girls."

"You sit with me every day," Kathleen deadpanned, reaching over Knox to grab the flask from Pitts' outstretched hand. "No." She said as Knox made a grab for it. "Not happening. No way."

"Just a little to steady my nerves?" He watched her ignore his plea and knock back a rather long gulp before passing it to the next awaiting hand. Knox stared at her. "That was more than usual."

She hummed in agreement as she rifled through her satchel for the books she had brought along for the meeting. "I have an idea of how things could play out tonight and trust me," her voice dropped, "I'll need it." Before he could protest she shoved a familiar volume of poetry into his hands. He had almost found the right page when a melodic - and distinctly feminine - laugh filtered down the opening of the natural shelter.

Kathleen shot up to greet the guests who stumbled in. All but Nancy paused in fascination with the location they had only heard about in Kathleen's stories. The bouncy blonde kicked her heels off and threw herself onto the log next to Charlie. "We made it!" She beamed, "despite a few mishaps but I guess that's to be expected when navigating the woods at midnight." Her eyes lingered on Chris who blushed as Ginny pulled a few stray twigs out of her best friend's hair. "You boys had better make this worth our while. And if anyone asks," she lowered her voice into a whisper, "we are at the drive in watching a delightful family movie."

Ginny grinned wickedly, claiming the rock beside Neil. "Someone pass the birthday girl a flask. It's freezing out there."

Neil summoned the container and soon had it in Ginny's hands. "But alas," he winked, "fair Hermia wandered out of the woods and into the company of boys."

"Mother would have a fit," she caught Neil's eye and they dissolved into laughter.

Chris shook her head at their antics, smiling at the irony of Mrs Danbury's restrictions on male company. But the sight of Knox grinning at her halted her thoughts. Breathing deeply, she sunk gracefully down beside him on a log. "How do these meetings usually begin?"

"Neil reads the opening statement," Kat replied, slipping into the remaining space by Todd.

"Welcome initiates to the Welton Chapter of the Dead Poets Society," Neil rose with the sacred book in hand, "we shall commence with the words of Henry David Thoreau." He raised the torch to his chin as he read.

With the words spoken he nodded at Ginny before returning to his seat. As she took his place in the centre he shot her a reassuring smile.

"In honour of my sixteenth birthday it is my pleasure to announce a night of female poetry. I would like to thank the society members for this gift, and Kathleen for her help with tonight's selections. We shall begin with In an Artist's studio by Christina Rosetti. It is a true poem of rebellion against literary tradition of the period."

"One face looks out from all his canvases,

One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:

We found her hidden just behind those screens,

That mirror gave back all her loveliness.

A queen in opal or in ruby dress,

A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,

A saint, an angel — every canvas means

The same one meaning, neither more or less.

He feeds upon her face by day and night,

And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,

Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:

Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;

Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;

Not as she is, but as she fills his dream."

Applause filled the cave as her clear voice tailed off. She took a bow before moving back to the log. Only the faintest dusting of colour on her cheeks betrayed her pleasure at the praise in the air solidified in a high-five from Neil.

"You were really good," Todd said quietly as Neil resumed his duty as chairman.

Ginny studied the boy her theatre partner couldn't stop talking about. Although they had hardly exchanged more than a few words it was as if she knew him already. Todd Anderson for all his shyness had the main role in the tales told at every spare moment during rehearsals. Every week Neil had new stories about his roommate, the poet, the best person he knew, whose eyes - as he had let slip one late night - were breathtaking. And suddenly she could see the evenings spent rehearsing until sunset on the lakeside, lazy afternoons in the dorm filled with laughter and moments of something more that Neil had never quite been able to put into words. "Thank you" she whispered back, looking between the duo with a satisfied smile as the stories sprang to life before her eyes.

"How do you do it?" He asked twisting his fingers into the ends of his sleeves, "perform in a way that breathes life into words?"

She thought for a second. "I suppose it stems from need. I hear you're a writer, so I imagine the itch for a pen is the same as mine for the stage. Once I'm up there I can breathe in a way I can't elsewhere, and I guess the words are the breath of a person living for themself."

"And it's the same for Neil?"

"It is," she nodded, "you'll see it on opening night. Everything that is him is magnified, bubbling over with passion."

He wasn't looking at her but the smile stretching across his features was enough to see he was happy with her answer. He understood.

Their moment of silence was interrupted by Kathleen leaning towards them, her voice low. "It hasn't taken Nancy long to corner him," she muttered "how much damage can be done in a five-minute break?"

Ginny snorted at the sight she was referring to. Nancy was a picture of relaxation perched delicately on the end of a log with a bright smile directed at Charlie - or Nuwanda as they were told to call him - who looked baffled. Ginny could only imagine the strange and unrelenting questions he was being confronted with. "Lucky you," she replied as Nancy stood up, "it looks like you can ask."

Kat groaned comically as Nancy appeared before the trio, bypassing Neil's empty spot in favour of her best friend's lap. Todd smiled warmly at her as she greeted them.

"Enough of that," Kathleen waved away the pleasantries, "I want to know your game."

"Nothing," she cried, her hand pressed over heart in mock insult. "It's only astrology. Completely harmless, I swear!"

"Why astrology?" Ginny asked pleasantly. She eyed the magazine in her friend's hand with the feeling that she already had the answer.

"Compatibility, darling," she opened it with a flourish to a double page chart.

Kat's eyes widened, "please tell me you didn't."

"Oh, stop worrying. He's clueless."The group cautiously looked in the direction of the boy cleaning his saxophone. "Honestly, the lack of trust is insulting," she grinned. "I needed some information from him so that we could be informed on the bigger picture."

Todd's eyebrows furrowed. "The bigger picture?"

Nancy smirked.

"The arrogance seems misplaced on a 'professional' who had to ask," Kat arched an eyebrow. "Even I can tell his sun sign is stamped all over him."

"Honey, you know I had more questions than that."

"A fact I'm trying desperately to forget."

"Where is all that Sagittarian sense of adventure?"

Ginny cut Kat's reply off, "that's enough bickering. Stop pretending you're not dying to know, Kat." She huffed but the amusement shone through. No longer able to deny her interest she lifted the corner of the magazine to peek at the result.

Nancy's smug expression intensified as Kat mumbled the words. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I said high compatibility," she repeated, keeping her voice at a whisper despite the pleased expression on her face.

Ginny craned her neck to see the pages, "is that it?"

The blonde shook her head and moved the chart away from her so that Todd and Ginny could see. "It's more than that. Maximum compatibility in all categories: love, communication and intimacy," she explained as she pointed to the corresponding boxes. Her finger tapped the last category for emphasis, "although with two fire signs we can hardly be surprised by the intimacy paragraph."

"Nancy!" Kat hissed, throwing a cautious glance over at Charlie who at a glance seemed unaware of the conversation. But somehow, she knew he was listening. Perhaps it was tilt of his head or suspiciously fixed gaze on the instrument in his hands. Whatever it was, she knew he had heard every word.

"Alright everyone," Neil waited for silence, "we shall resume the meeting with a- "

Giggles erupted as Nancy crouched low and darted across the centre of the cave to reach her seat. "With a reading by society member Knox Overstreet" he finished with a slight cough as he supressed his own mirth at her antics. But his mirth disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Knox took his place by the fire; despite its warmth his hands shook violently. The torch pointed at the page was barely steady enough for him to read, yet he rejected Neil's non-verbal plea to help.

"This, uh, this is a Sonnet Twenty-One by Elizabeth Barrett Browning." He took a shaky breath, willing his body not to humiliate him in front of Chris. Chris! His eyes sought hers and it was as if his prayers had been answered. The silence was irrelevant when she looked at him like she believed in him. When a single glance from her willed him to speak.

"Say over again, and yet once over again,

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

Should seem "a cuckoo-song," as thou dost treat it,

Remember, never to the hill or plain,

Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.

Belovèd, I, amid the darkness greeted

By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain

Cry, "Speak once more—thou lovest!" Who can fear

Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,

Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?

Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—toll

The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,

To love me also in silence with thy soul."

"Knox! That was amazing," she praised as he returned to the log they shared. "Are you reading anymore tonight?"

He felt the heat rush to his cheeks, the red patches darkening with her every word. "I'm glad you think so, but I wouldn't go that far," his beaming smile weakened, "no. Sorry, I'm not."

She touched his knee, "I could never recite poetry as well as you, the emotion was incredible. It's a shame there won't be more."

"In that case," he cast his mind back to the night Charlie had recited poetry for the girls, "I promise I'll recite poetry for you soon."

"I'll look forward to the next meeting," she laughed, "now tell me more about Welton. It sounds so different from Ridgeway!"

Take note of Knox's promise before continuing with the meeting. Poor Chris has no idea what she's in for...

* Sappho (approx. 620 BCE - 570 BCE) - Ancient Greek lyric poet whose works survived mainly in fragments & quotations, she wrote about desire and love for women

* In an Artist's studio, Christina Rosetti (written 1856 and published 1896)

* Sonnet XXI, Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)

Speaking of Chris, what do you think about her character? I find her the most difficult to write because of her portrayal in the movie. Alexandra Powers does an amazing job with her role, but the script makes Chris a rather frustratingly flat character with no real purpose outside of being the love interest. The deleted scenes give her a little more substance through small interactions with the Danbury family but nothing much. Ginny is easier in the sense that she is a blank canvas outside of the facts (Danbury, Henley Hall student, Chris' friend, Hermia in the play). Any thoughts?