Lydia could still feel that panic clawing in her veins. That mixture of shame and horror that had exploded at the sight of Ruby Bell standing in the doorway. At first it was fine, she could focus on the wood floor beneath her arse, the steady cold seeping in from the open window above her. But then she can feel a hand pressed against her shoulder, the warmth seeping through her school shirt and burning into her skin.

She flinches, rearing back from that touch even as she feels himself becoming less and less grounded.

"Lydia?"

She might be gasping, struggling to breathe. But her panic only grew as she couldn't place that voice. Couldn't remember if she knew it. If it was friend or foe.

"Lydia?" The man's voice was soft, cautious. She recognised a sharp note of fear that had her own panic rising. "Lyds, are you hurt?"

There might be real worry in that voice but Lydia is trembling as the man sinks down by her side. The change in position allows her to feel the heat radiating off his body. That cloying pressure trapping her in place and holding her down. It had her leaning back. Twisting away from his grip.

She's in that office again. Ruby staring at her with horror filled eyes.

The grounding technique taught by her therapist in their one and only session is coming with little success as every touch, sound and scent begins to overwhelm her. Begins to remind her of the classrooms she sits in every day. The wooden floors, the scent of books, the light, the people, the eyes watching her. Lydia feels herself slump back against the wall, Eyes squeezing shut to hide from the prying eyes of her classmates, the ones laughing and jeering at her.

Burning heat pushes against her leg, the side of his arm, her waist and– and the the back of her head. It itches and burns. But that pressure and pain keeps cradling her. Lydia trembles writhing on the floor as the fire begins to eat her. She remembers a camping trip, one out in the woods with James by her side.

She remembers that lake house, with its white walls and blue roof. The barbeques and camp fires. The dock that leads out into a clear crystal lake. She remembered sitting around that same camp-fire.

It was so bright. Luscious flames flickering in the darkness, when she was little she thought the fire was dancing, curling around itself as it burned brighter and brighter, devouring the wood beneath.

Her mother had always tugged Lydia further away from the flames than she had with James. Trusting the older boy more than her. It was as if Claudelia could feel the way fire sung to Lydia, the way she couldn't help but watch its beauty. It was transfixing, every changing yet perfectly predictable in colour.

They had cooked marshmallows and sausages on sticks over that fire. James had burnt his, and Lydia spent too long watching the way the marshmallows bubbled and dripped, crisping at the edges before an explosion of flame.

She would laugh at James, helping him put it out till only smoke was left of his small portion of flaming sugar. Still, she had burnt her finger touching that marshmallow, flinching back as the black clumps clung to her hands, smoothing the flesh.

It had been so small yet so consuming. A single point of pain for a full body flinch.

There's no smoke or air to be found, just pure molten heat and he prays to whatever deity to let her breathe. To stop the burning ache in her chest.

Except when it stops it's worse.

She can feel those eyes burning into her skin. Their dark touch dragged through her veins and raced into her chest, her heart. Choking the breath from her body with their invasive touches. Watching her every move, her every breath. It's a thick oppressive weight that drags at her skin. She claws at it, desperately scratching at her arms, her waist, her chest, anything to get those eyes off of her, to get them to look away from her, to hide from the light.

But she can't, she can't move his hand. Something stops her.

Maybe she's screaming. Flailing about in a desperate attempt to escape.

"Lydia."

She continues to struggle, clawing at herself, at the thing holding her still. But evens he can tell her movements are sluggish, her mind foggy and Ruby's dark gaze is staring at her from the shadows of the room.

She stumbles, mind halting as she begins to look around.

She was in her room. The dark wood walls covered in fashion posters, her bed still messy from this morning–

"Lydia."

She turned to her brother, blinking slowly at his close proximity. James' breathing was funny. A fast rhythm as he desperately scanned Lydia's face for some kind of answer.

"Breathe Lydia, it's me."

It was only when Lydia tried to do as he commanded that she realised how hard it was to draw in a breath. James stayed by her side, hands grasping her arms as he slowly coached her through each breath.

"Copy me."

She nodded uselessly, holding her breath and releasing it to her brother's steady counting. Lydia focused on the task at hand, James' voice and the pressure of his hands at her arms, of her back pressing against the wall behind her. She used each sensation, sound and sight to ground her in the moment.

Lydia isn't sure how long they sat there. Only that James was still staring at her with wide eyes full of concern when she finally managed to calm herself.

"What happened?" He murmured, voice soft.

Lydia shook her head.

"Tell me." He whispered, voice imploring, the closest a Beaufort would ever get to begging. "It's me Lydia, Jamie."

"I know." She whimpered, slowly shaking her head as she held back the burning behind her eyes. "I know it's you."

"Then tell me what happened."

"I can't."

"You can." His eyes were so pleading and desperate that Lydia had to look away. "Please, sister, tell me so I can fix it."

"This is something you can fix, James."

"Tell me anyway." His voice was harder now, commanding as his expression grew colder. "If I can't fix it then at least you won't be alone."

"I don't know what to do."

It was the confession of her life. The indecision that paralysed her.

"I don't know what to do with my life James," She shook her head, tears beginning to fall. "I just need someone to tell me what to love, what to think, what to do to make this all easier and right."

"What brought this on?"

She scoffs, "What hasn't."

James waits, knowing that she will eventually cave like she always does. Not this time. James can't be the one to fix this, not with the way he handles things. But even if he can't get involved with Ruby there are still other things clouding Lydia's mind right now. Stuff that she would quite frankly like to leave to her brother.

"Have you spoken to mother or father?"

He frowns, "Not tonight."

She nods, knowing that it's not her place to share, not when her father likes to control such matters and wield them to his advantage. An advantage against his own children no less.

"There's a problem with the company James." She confesses quietly, "The funds aren't there."

James frowns, bewildered, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Father burnt one too many bridges and two key investors pulled out."

The horrified expression on James' face says it all. Though its still an expression that brings a chuckle to Lydia's lips. No matter how much they loathe their father they both understood the importance of business.

"We'll be bankrupt within the next two years at this rate."

"You're wrong."

"Why do you think I've befriended Ava?" Lydia huffs, shaking her head, "We need her father to invest."

"He's good enough to outweigh the two that left?"

Lydia nodded, already seeing the cogs turning in James' brain.

"Ava has no connection–"

"For now." Lydia interrupts, recognising that James truly did his research when he promised to look into the investors. "The rumour mill suggests his current wife is struggling to conceive... he needs an heir."

Understanding dawns in her twin's eyes.

"Even if it's a girl." Lydia muttered bitterly.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:

"James!"

He turned at the sound of his name, doing his best to keep his face carefully blank as his father strolled towards you.

"I was hoping to catch you." His father smiled, it was that carefully crafted look of false security. The one that used to get James to lower his guard, to eagerly relish in his father's attention. He wasn't so naive anymore. "There's matters we need to discuss."

"Before dinner?" James glanced at the clock, they only had an half an hour before dinner would be served.

"If you have the time?" Mortimer Beaufort raised a challenging brow, practically taunting his son to put something above the family business. Because there was no reason for his father to want to talk to him about anything else.

His father gestures towards his home office before leading the way.

"How was school today?"

"Good," James nodded to himself, trying to think of something acceptable to say. "The Oxford preparation seminars will begin next week. They're at lunch times and after school."

His father waves him off, "Have percy pick you up later then."

He nods, walking silently to the leather chair opposite his father's desk. Mortimer waits as he sits down, casually leaning back in that grand wingback leather seat. It was always an effort to remain calm in his father's presence. Especially when the man was capable of making anyone feel alienated from their own morals and body.

"I have unfortunate news regarding the investment panel for Beaufort."

"Young Beaufort?" James corrected, faking naivety.

His father clenched his jaw, clearly irritated at the news he was about to reveal.

"It seems some of our primary investors felt we were asking too much of them with this new line," Mortimer stared imploringly at his son. "Lydia and yourself had great vision with this project but many of the older investors aren't interested in funding your sister's startup."

Because of course this was Lydia's fault.

"Are we apologising then?" James asks, raising his brows to highlight how little he could imagine his father doing such a thing.

His father scoffed at the notion, "No. We can find other investors."

"Other..." James trailed off, using that awkward defensive struggle to hide how much he already knew. His father sighed, clearly annoyed by James' lack of knowledge.

"We lost two investors, James." His father leant forward, bracing his elbows on the desk as he stared down his son and heir. "Without their money and connections Beaufort will begin to suffer."

James doesn't have to fake his nervous swallow, he knew how serious it was for them to lose such influence.

"Which is why Junior Beaufort and its new list of investors have come at such a great time."

"You don't think they will be concerned by the loss?"

"Some of them may, the weak ones, we only want reliable people, James." His father stared at him through lowered brows. "At the Reception ball tomorrow there will be certain influential people in attendance. I need you to introduce yourself to them."

"You want me to make deals–"

"No." His father snapped and James barely flinched. "You are to do nothing of the sort." He sighed, rubbing at his forehead as if James were an irritating simpleton incapable of understanding basic orders. In his father's mind he probably was. "I just need you to charm them, introduce yourself, play nice, seem amiable and intelligent."

His father tilted his head, scanning James's expression for any sign of hesitation or weakness.

"Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all."