Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun was overly bright when they buried her father into the ground.

Thomas Fairchild – beloved father, friend, and loyal servant to the House of Larrabee – had abruptly died a week past on a Tuesday while waiting to transport home Linus and Maude. It was believed to have been a heart attack that went unnoticed until it was too late; no one had been in the vicinity to help or notify emergency personnel and they found him slumped beside the car.

Sabrina had been recalled from her trip quickly, without fanfare, and arrangements were made to bury him in the cemetery on the farther end of the island shortly upon her return.

She held herself still through the rites that saw him laid to rest and she made herself listen as first Linus briefly spoke of her father’s service to the family and their appreciation of him, and then as Maude added her own affirmations to his words. David was not in attendance.

The sky hadn’t gathered decent clouds to hide behind, nor rain to cover the tears on her cheeks, and they slid down her face leaving a warm, wet trail. They were just a few more among the many the last several days.

Joanna held her hand as they exited the cemetery, a slow walk away as everyone separated to return to the mansion; the staff having a day of light duty, with more time to observe the loss of one of their own and food set aside for an informal gathering. Quiet murmurs didn’t much pull her from the haze settling over her, but she was aware of the hand in hers and it was a small comfort.

Ushered to a chair at their kitchen nook, Sabrina sat disconsolate, while the others made their way towards the food before settling in. Rosa set a plate in front of her of hearty odds and ends, but her stomach felt rebellious despite its emptiness.

“You know,” Rosa started, waving her hand towards the spiced meat and rice on her plate,” when Mr. Tom first had this, he coughed. I never forget! His face turned red, his eyes watered. I think he is not going to be ok.” She huffs a laugh, shakes her head, and smiles sadly at Sabrina. “But, you know, he had some water and he took another bite! I know the spice was not his spice, but he ate it. And he was kind. Every time, he would try my food.” Rosa patted her shoulder.

“Try, Sabrina.”

The chair on her left was pulled out and sat in. A gentle nudge against her arm, a shoe pushed up against hers, and the faint hint of cigarette smoke told her she wasn’t alone. Scott had found his way to her side.

She slipped her hand down to grasp at the inside of his elbow. A hanging-by-a-thread, I-feel-so-broken grasp that said, “I need you!” even when she couldn’t say it out loud.

His other hand settled firmly over hers and returned the pressure. “I’m here.”

Chapter Text

When she was ten, Scott came to the island. Their introduction was the awkward, unpolished meeting of children, as some of the best friendships start before you come to understand each other.

She had been in her tree that morning. Yes, it was her tree, as no one else climbed in it or even noticed it among the many others with all of the upkept landscape around. She had even claimed it as her own with a threaded bracelet she had made, tied up on a higher branch where no one else could see or refute it. It was hers and it was her safe haven to observe the world around (mainly David) mostly unheeded.

“Hey!”

Unheeded until a curly-haired boy looking roughly about her age found his way to the base of her tree and called out to her. Not having seen him approach, she startled, but still clung to her sturdy branch. He peered at her curiously, his face scrunched, and she blinked behind her glasses as she stared back.

“What are you doing?”

She frowned at him, looked back towards David’s window and then down at him again.

“I’m sitting; getting fresh air. What are you doing? Who are you?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, head cocked. “Fresh air, huh? It’s not fresh down here?”

“Wha-,” she stammered and blushed as she shyly glanced back at the half-drawn curtained window. “It’s just better up here.”

“Ok, maybe I should come try it.” He moved to climb up the tree and Sabrina frantically scurried down to stop him.

“No! No, it’s not your tree. You shouldn’t be in it, you might... damage it.” She fussed.

“Damage it,” he repeated, stepping back, hands in his pockets, and he scuffed his shoe against the brick underneath him. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d just climb it.” He scowled at her. “Besides, I think you already hurt it.” He gestured at her clothes. “Did you sleep in those?”

“What? No, I didn’t.” Sabrina glanced down at herself, quickly brushing at the wrinkles and tree debris that had gathered on her flowered jumper from her brisk descent, and then straightened up. “You have no proof.”

He gave her a long look and then an eye roll. “Your bed head is a snitch.”

She clutched at the messed-up fluff her hair had become, her mouth shaping an ‘O’. She snapped her mouth closed and bit at her bottom lip. “It’s my tree.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Your tree?... Did you grow it?”

Her face turned incredulous. “No, of course not! It’s older than I am.”

“Does it have your name on it?” he pushed.

She crossed her arms, very much feeling defensive. “No, but it is still mine.”

“Ok.”

“Okay?” She blinked. Was he going to leave it alone?

“Ok.” He shrugged and turned to start walking away, but glanced back at her. “I’ll find one that is mine and maybe it will have my name on it. – ‘Scott.’”

She, quite unlady-like, sputtered and hurried after him.

Chapter Text

“I’ve waited for this.”

Sabrina trembled under his fingertips, her heart racing and breath short. “H-have you?”

“Mmhmm,” he nuzzled behind her ear as he held her close, his fingers gently grasping behind her neck, his thumb stroking over the fluttering pulse he felt beneath her soft skin. “Ages.”

“Ages,” she breathed out, her thoughts scattered and her body a bundle of emotions encapsulated. She wavered on the precipice of something unknown to her; filled with excitement and hope, but also a queasy nervousness and an ache that she wanted to let go.

She leaned into the warmth of his arms as he kept her close, barely believing the solid yet soft feeling of him holding her, before she pulled back to raise her eyes to his, her heart beating loudly in her chest…and she woke up.

The late morning light was jarring to the evening she had been in seconds ago and her covers weighed heavy on her; her body overly heated and tense. She scrubbed her face with her hands, feeling sweat beaded at her hairline and crusting on her eyelids. Ugh.

Someone knocked on her door lightly but repeatedly and Sabrina realized it must have been what had woken her. She fumbled for her glasses, feeling them on the nightstand beside her, and shoved them over her nose.

“Come in.”

It came out scratchy and she swallowed, feeling the soreness. She softly rubbed at it, the feel of her fingers on her neck not the same as the ones vaguely lingering from her dreams. She focused on the door as the handle turned and Joanna stepped in carrying a small tray.

“Good morning, Sabrina.”

She moved closer to the bed, frowning as her blue eyes swept over Sabrina. “Oh, you don’t look like you are feeling any better at all, my dear.”

Sabrina grimaced, quietly agreeing. “I think I still have a fever.”

Joanna gently placed the tray on the bedside table and reached to check her forehead with the back of her hand. She nodded, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind Sabrina’s ear before pulling away. “ Your father went into town with Mr. Linus earlier and we thought to let you rest, but you should also get a little something in you before the day slips away. I’ve brought you oatmeal and hot tea, with a bit of honey for both.” She smiled kindly and patted Sabrina’s closest hand before smoothing the covers out by her feet and moving towards the door. “Take it slow and rest. I’ll come by later.”

Sabrina managed a ‘thank you’ as Joanna stepped out and she looked at the tray next to her. She didn’t have an appetite having just woken and feeling as she did. Still, she didn’t want Joanna’s efforts to go to waste and the honey did sound lovely for her throat.

She carefully stirred the golden-brown honey into her tea and blew lightly into her cup before taking a small sip, hoping not to burn her tongue. She breathed out contentedly when it soothed the ache instead and took a larger sip before turning to her oatmeal.

A short while later, the tea was finished, there were only a few spoonfuls left in her bowl, and Sabrina settled back into her blankets and pillows, worn from the sickness and effort of eating. Her eyelids felt heavy and she soon fell asleep again; this time not waking for any knocks.

That evening when she woke with the need to use the restroom, she turned on her lamp to find the tray gone and a scribbled note partially covering a page, both being held down by her alarm clock. Standing and stretching, she shuffled away from the bed, deciding to leave it for the moment; she would come back to it after freshening up.

A half hour later and feeling better after a warm shower (despite it stealing most of her energy), Sabrina sat at the edge of her rumpled bed to see what had been left behind. Pulling the note closer, she glanced at the darker page underneath and was startled to see David’s smiling face looking back at her. His eyes sparkled and his bright white smile pulled her in. She absorbed every detail; smooth skin, crescent lines drawn from smiling and laughter, not a hair out of place or trace of lint on his clothes. She sighed as she stared. It certainly was the perfect picture of him!

Where had it come from?

She looked to the note in her hand, hastily scrawled on paper clearly torn from the notepad found at her desk. Scott’s chicken-scratch teased:

Since you can’t stare at him from your tree.

Feel better.

She snorted softly, a smile touching her lips at his ribbing and kind-hearted attempt to cheer her. Her gaze shifted back to David’s picture and lingered for a long moment, tracing over his outline, thoughtful. Thank you, Scott. It did very much cheer her.