I'd Like to Believe

Chapter 1: It's the Fall Before the Climb

A/N: If I owned Mr Peabody and Sherman it wouldn't have been HALF as good as it turned out.

The children were out of the Horse. Judging by the arc they cut in the air, they would land safely a few feet from the cliff edge. The Horse and it's lone occupant, however, were plummeting towards the water and rocks below.

Peabody was no stranger to peril. Time travel was full of hazards, especially when traveling with a child who didn't seem to understand that. But wreckage riding a falling wooden horse was something entirely new to him. He couldn't see where exactly he was aimed to land, and with nothing but unforgiving ocean and less forgiving rock below, it didn't seem to matter.

Relax. Try to keep your feet down. Roll to the side if you can after impact.

Peabody thought of his son, safe and waiting on the cliff. He relaxed.

The Horse hit the rocks, and the section he was in snapped off from the force. He slammed hard against the wood, and was unconscious before even reaching the water.

She clung to the Elder's tunic, thrashing and shrieking. The other men reached for her, tried to pull her away, and she clawed at the faces of any who dared come too close. The Elder handed off the child to a guard, who departed despite the screams of the woman.

"He survived the wine, you bastards! You bastards! Hera, please, my child-"

Charis inhaled deeply, sucking a breath in through clenched teeth. Salt stung at her nose and eyes. She leaned back against the rocky cliff face, cool stones poking harshly at her back through her peplos. Moss grew rampant in the shade of the overhang, and the waves lapped over her sandals periodically.

Charis hated cliffs. But the much loathed hideaway was the only escape from the screaming of the Trojan citizens.

She was no warrior. She could ruin a man's face with her dagger and ruin his legs with a good kick, but running into a city full of warriors who despised her people was nothing short of suicide. All there was to do was wait for the battle to end, and pray that Agamemnon would keep his men in line.

Above her atop the cliff, wood creaked and cracked loudly. Charis opened her eyes, and looked out to the sea. A final crack echoed through the air, and all went silent.

"What in the name-"

A great beast of timber hit the rocks out before her, and she lurched back. The rocks cut into the fabric and flesh, and shards of shrapnel impacted around her.

Agamemnon's horse. There were men in there.

Charis was on her feet in seconds, wading out to waist deep in a matter of moments. She dove into the waves headfirst, and just before her bistre curls vanished under the surf, a distant sound of a shouting child reached her ears.

His glasses were missing. Likely broken by the impact anyways. That was what upset him the most at the moment.

His head was swimming, and he was not. He was only vaguely aware that he was sinking into the ocean, unable to breathe, and too injured to swim to safety. He couldn't even open his eyes fully. Everything hurt.

Something warm and soft emerged from the freezing darkness, and curled around his wrist. The gentle tug sent a shock of pain through most of his body, and his eyelids managed to slide open just a little further.

He was being pulled up towards the surface. His rescuer's dark green eyes blinked, squinting in confusion, as he came into view. She dragged him up onto the rock and into her lap, and his peripheral vision went fuzzy.

Peabody leaned against the soft cloth of the woman's crimson peplos. A Spartan woman. This makes no sense; they weren't warriors. But he was too tired to argue with his savior over the illogical implications of her existence. His ears were ringing, his lungs were aching, and his son wasn't there.

"Shrr...mnnn..."

A talking dog. A talking, well dressed dog. Charis had just plucked a talking dog from the flooded wreckage of Agamemnon's war horse. The gods had to be playing some sort of surreal joke.

"Sh...shurrrrr..." The creature in her lap struggled weakly, trying desperately to speak clearly as his lungs protested. "Shrrrrrrr..."

Charis gently patted his back, coaxing softly. "It's alright. Just get your breath back-"

"Sherman..."

Charis blinked. "Sherman?"

The dog shuddered. "My son..."

Her blood went cold. The Horse.

"My...my boy-"

She gently set him down, and dove back into the water. Peabody groaned, rolling over onto his stomach (a sharp stabbing implied damaged ribs). He struggled and propped himself up on his elbows, looking up towards the clifftop. He scanned the area desperately, dismayed by the absence of the two figures he was so certain he would spot. He slid back down, sighing and heaving for breath. Behind him, Charis emerged from the water, gasping as she pulled herself up. "I can't find anyone. The waves might have..."

Her words trailed off, and her nails dug into her palms hard enough to break the skin. Peabody glanced back at her. "Not...not in the Horse."

Charis stared at the dog as if he had just blasphemed. "What?"

"The cliffs. He was on the cliffs."

The Spartan glanced up, following his gaze. Beyond the walls of Troy, the battle sounds had ceased. The child was somewhere in the city. She sighed. "I dearly wish you had told me that before, friend."

She carefully lifted the dog up, and made her way back to shore. "I have never heard of a dog with the voice of a man back home. But if you were in the Horse, I assume you must be allied with our people. Now that we've taken the city, your son will be safe with them."

She knelt down, retrieving a bag she had brought down with her during the siege. Dumping out the contents (food she never really planned on eating and a single peacock feather, which she tucked into her hair), she looked it over, seemingly satisfied. The dog had gone silent, either lost in thought or too tired to carry on a conversation. Charis gently helped him up, sitting him down in the sack. "I'll have to carry you. Your son is safe, but we need to find him soon all the same. No child should see what goes on when a city falls."

The dog shifted in the bag, his head just barely sticking out. "The Troades," he murmured softly.

Charis nodded, lifting Peabody over her shoulder. "I have a duty to Hera that must be done. We'll find your boy, but we must hurry."

The duo emerged from the darkness, and Charis turned to face the cliff side. She craned her neck to see the clifftop. "I hope you aren't afraid of heights."

Peabody had blacked out again, muttering unintelligibly at her back. The woman sighed, and prepared to climb, when something solid brushed against her heel. She glanced down, surprised to find a black frame caught against the straps of her sandals. Retrieving the object, she held them up to the sun to get a better view. In between the loops of smooth metal, cracked glass magnified and scattered the rays.

Puzzled by the strange device, she folded it (though heavily warped, it folded like paper; she would have to ask Agamemnon or the dog if they knew how the object worked) tucked one metal leg into her rope belt, and began to climb.