Hi everyone, this is my first ever FF attempt, and I was very hesitant about putting it out there. The Secret Garden is one of my favourite books, and the 1993 adaption is my all-time favourite childhood movie, although I've seen and enjoyed other versions too. I'd greatly appreciate any reviews, particularly those with tips/constructive criticism! If there are any spelling/grammar mistakes please let me know so that I can rectify them. The characters will be speaking Yorkshire at points, so I've tried to copy Burnett's style as best as possible for that, and have gone with what sounds right to me- sorry for any mistakes!

Mary stood on the platform, hot, acrid air from the train billowing around her, making her eyes sting. She turned away and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, blinking furiously. Just because Mary Lennox had learned how to cry, it didn't mean that she intended to do it in public. She dabbed at her eyes quickly, hoping that no-one would notice, as two figured appeared from the mist.

The first was tall, with a slim build and fair, tousled hair. His agate grey eyes were large, and were rimmed with immense dark lashes that made them seem even larger. His face was set in determination, though his bitten lip revealed his inner fear, and his eyes were hard, though easy to read for someone as practised as Mary. He stepped towards her, and they slid into an embrace that was as easy as breathing.

"You be careful, Colin Craven," Mary whispered. "I didn't save your life for nothing." She felt his laughter vibrate in his chest, though his voice was solemn as he answered.

"I'll try, Mary. I'll try." He crushed her tighter and then stooped lower to promise her something. "I'll keep him safe, Mary. I will." His breath tickled her ear, and Mary could smell his aftershave- warm and spicy.

She dug her fingers into his arms, forcing him to look her in the eye. "He'll do the same for you. Don't forget it."

Colin continued to hold her gaze, before he nudged her playfully in the ribs, as though to diffuse the sudden tension between them. "I'll be thinking of you, stuck in dreary old London." His voice was intentionally light and he sighed theatrically. "Poor, poor Mary. They do say it's a man's world, after all."

Her eyes narrowed. "Make sure it's a world you come back to, then." She paused, lowering her voice. There was no trace of humour in it. "I'm serious, Colin. This isn't about glory and honour. This is life and death. Don't you dare forget it."

Colin looked directly into her eyes again. "I won't, Mary. Too many of my thoughts have been about death already." He didn't have to explain further to her. She knew. She knew better than anyone else. "Look after father," he said, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "I don't want him to worry."

Mary sighed. "He'll always worry. Just don't give him cause to justify it."

Colin pulled away and held her at arms length, examining her. "Stay out of trouble, Mary. If you can." He smirked as he walked away, but Mary could see the tears that had gathered in his eyes. She closed hers, wishing she were anywhere but here, but abruptly opened them again as another pair of arms slid around her.

Round blue eyes were staring into hers, russet hair nearly falling into them. A wide mouth smiled, and an upturned nose wrinkled at the smell of the steaming train.

"Never could abide trains," Dickon said, his brow furrowing. "Always make me think o' cities an' grey dead things instead o' things green an' livin'."

Mary smiled sadly up at him. "Canna say I disagree with thee, Dickon," she sighed, tears threatening to form again. "I hate war."

"Aye," he said, eyes growing distant. "I mun agree wi' that."

Mary's heart began to thump faster, and she pulled him closer. "Promise me, Dickon. Promise me you'll come home safe."

Dickon looked at her steadily. "Tha knows I canna promise thee that. But I promise I'll do everythin' I can."

"You've done it before. Please do it again."

Dickon smiled sadly at her. "I'll try."

Mary barely thought about his words echoing Colin's, and pulled him even further towards her, so close that their noses touched. "I love thee, Dickon Sowerby. I love thee wit' all my heart."

"Aye," Dickon smiled again, and this time it reached his eyes. "I know that. And I've loved thee ever since tha were just a scrawny, contrary miss beggin' me to keep tha's secret."

She kissed him quickly, quietly on the lips, heart thudding in time to his. "Come back to me," she said. "I'll be waiting."

Dickon's eyes were suddenly serious and he bent low to whisper to her, lips grazing her ear. "I'll keep him safe, Mary. I promise thee that. I'll keep him safe."

She grabbed hold of his lapels, trying desperately to convey her terror. "He'll try something Dickon, I know he will. He'll want some glory, to be a hero," she paused, feeling her stomach flailing around inside her. "You can't let him, Dickon. I can't lose him."

She didn't need to tell him that she couldn't lose him either- he knew. He knew from the clutch of her hands on his jacket, the strength with which she held him to her, the frantic look in her eyes. But most of all, he knew from the desperate pounding of her heart as it threatened to burst through her dress, proclaiming to all that she, Mary Lennox, loved him. Mary didn't need to tell Dickon that she couldn't lose him, because losing him was something too terrible to begin to comprehend.

Colin strode away from Mary, biting the inside of his cheek to force the tears away. The past 8 years of his life glimmered before his eyes; memories of shouting, laughing children, hidden behind the high, safe walls of their nest. Mary, screaming at him that he wasn't ill, her face furious as she leant over him. A rush of cool, sweet air finding his lungs, his heart threatening to burst with such fierce joy that he felt as though he could live forever and ever and ever. The long summer days spent in the garden, the homely, comforting taste of bread and potatoes and milk, the softness of Mrs Sowerby's arms as she enveloped him in her cloak, and the feeling that, for the first time in his life, he was loved. And then, many years later, his appalling, consuming jealousy as Mary made her feelings for Dickon clear, before the realisation that he had accepted it a long time before, one summer day with a camera and a swing.

Colin would always love Mary, but now it was the part that should, the part that loved her with his whole being for being a sister to him in every way that mattered. As he grew older, he began to understand that they both loved too hard and fought too hard to be together. The good times would be an unforgettable high, but the bad would be terrible lows, with both as stubborn and obstinate as the other. No, Mary didn't need to meet fire with fire, she needed the clear stream that was Dickon, to cool her temper, pacify her and make her understand when she was wrong, in a way that was gentle, as though she were a wounded animal.

"Colin." The voice broke him out of his reverie. He turned to find his father, looking older than ever before. Archibald's once thick brown hair was grey and limp, as though his son's departure had sucked the life from it. He leaned heavily on the cane that he had almost abandoned 8 years ago, when joy caused his aches and pains to fade, and his once happy brown eyes had regained their haunted look.

Archibald looked at his son, his heart torn between bursting with pride and breaking with loss. The sickly, cross child had grown into a handsome, tall man, and his eyes were alight with the life and love that had once inhabited another pair.

His voice was gruff. "Stay safe."

Colin's face took on a look of concern, his eyes unhappy. Archie had to look away from them, he couldn't bare to think of those eyes as unhappy now, not when they'd spent 10 years being so.

"Father," his son's voice forced Archie to look again. "Father, you can't leave again." Archie stared at his son in surprise.

"No matter how bad it gets," Colin continued, holding his father's gaze, "you can't go off again. Mary will need you. I know she won't act like it, but she will." He paused, and Archie could see him swallow. "I need you. And if- anything... happens to me," he swallowed again, choking out the words, "don't leave her, father. Don't lock yourself up, don't lock the house up and... for God's sake, do not lock the garden up."

Colin shuddered, and Archie could see how much effort it was taking for his son to force out these words, to bring up things long buried. Colin's eyes were suddenly flashing and Archie was almost alarmed as his son took hold of his crooked shoulders, gripping them tightly.

"Promise me, father," he said, breathing hard. Archie winced at the pain, but was grateful as it brought him quickly to his senses.

"I promise, Colin. But please... don't let it come to that."

The pressure disappeared and Archie's son stepped back, the sudden sunlight turning his hair to spun gold. His grin was self-assured, cocky and utterly Colin.

"It won't!"

Archie pretended to smile, but he could see that despite the confident exterior, his son's fears were there, as were his own. He hoped with all his heart that they were unfounded.

As Mary watched the train roll away, taking with it the fumes, dust and lives of many innocent people, she couldn't stifle the terrible feeling that one of her boys would not be coming safely back.