Right Before Her Eyes
Summary: Helen Pevensie had often heard people say that children grew up so fast, but she had never taken the saying literally...until now.
(AU-ish, between LWW and PC ( a story that fits been between the two). The siblings return to the Golden Age of Narnia, with an unexpected guest- their mother.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: I am trying out my second Narnia plot bunny to see what people think. I hope this hasn't been done before! Please read and review!
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As evening fell across Finchley, a mother sat observing two of her children with a small frown etched on her worried face.
They had been home for over three weeks now, Helen Pevensie mused, and yet the aloofness and tension that she had felt when they had first returned from the country still remained. She could remember meeting them as they stepped off the train- there were tears in her eyes, and distant looks in theirs. Only Lucy, her dear sweet Lucy, had snapped out of her daze when she first saw her and gave her the emotional hug she had been expecting. The others, much to her confusion and heartache, hugged her with a stiffness that had made her joyful tears mix with painful ones. Peter, she recalled, had tried to smile as they embraced, but the expression seemed forced and even painful on his troubled face. Edmund and Susan had merely looked blank.
She knew instantly that something had changed during their time away, but she was yet to figure out what that was.
As much as it pained her to admit it, it was now apparent that the happy carefree children she remembered were lost to her. Perhaps forever. The only logical explanation she could come up with was the war; their last few weeks at home had not been pleasant, and the air raids had forced her to send them (very reluctantly) to a safer area. It had been hard, and she had wept for several nights after their departure, but she knew it was for the best. She was a mother, and a mother's main priority was to ensure the safety, and survival, of her children no matter what the cost.
The bombings had stopped now; over forty thousand had lost their lives and many more had lost their homes, but the Penensie's had (thankfully) made it through the German attack unscathed.
On the surface, at least.
They were safe and reunited…why then, she wondered, did her children mill around the house as if something irreplaceable had been lost? Why didn't they smile, or laugh, or enjoy any of the childhood amusements that used to give them so much pleasure?
The Professor's letters to her over the past several months had all reported that they were doing quite well. Playing cricket on sunny days, keeping up with their studies, generally keeping quiet and being well behaved…
After reading such updates, she had been certain that things would return to normal once they came home. But now, after their sombre reunion and three tense weeks together, she was forced to admit that all was not well. She had wondered if they resented her for sending them away, but Peter had assured her that this was not the case when she had voiced these concerns to him last week.
"We all understood, mum." He had said, with the distant smile she was now becoming accustomed to.
Then why are you so different? She had been tempted to ask. Where have my children gone?
Instead, she had simply nodded, somewhat relived but far from placated. She had watched him for a few moments after that, hunched over one of his school books at the kitchen table, scratching away furiously on a sheet of paper beside him. He had looked like a boy on a mission; a boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. No, she had thought sadly after another few seconds, not a boy, a young man.
He was only fourteen, but she knew right then that his childhood was over.
Her Peter had grown up.
Over the next few days, she had made similar observations about all of her children. Edmund and Susan too, it seemed, now carried themselves with a striking air of maturity. Edmund, like Peter, had a new obsession with books, and she was surprised to find him studiously going over an old law tome he had taken from the library one evening. She had looked at the book herself after he had gone to sleep, only to find that the dense legal analysis the book contained was barely comprehensible to her. How could a twelve year old, she wondered, possibly understand something like this?
Like her brothers, Susan had also been showing an interest in new pursuits. She now spent most of her time alone in her room, and when Helen had ventured inside while the children were in the yard, she had been perplexed to find the rubbish bin overflowing with lists and sketches of arrangements for elaborate parties. Rather odd, she had thought.
Even Lucy, dear sweet Lucy, no longer showed the spark of childhood that Helen so longed to see. She was better then the others, it had to be noted, and was the only one to spend significant time with her mother since their return. But even she was quiet and reserved, in a way that Helen found quite unsettling. She had often caught Lucy starring desolately out the window, her eyes fixed sadly on the neighbour's cat or a sparrow in a tree as if she was looking for something in them that was no longer there. The girl had also begun to spend an increasing amount of time with her old sketchbook, and Helen had been shocked to see that her drawings were a far cry from the simple disproportionate images the ten year old had produced not to long ago. These new pictures were expertly done, and all seemed to depict the same beautiful land, spotted with knights, castles and a wide array of medieval-inspired subjects. Helen had no idea what had inspired such a change.
The only time the children seemed content, she had long ago observed, was when they were alone together. It was not uncommon for her to hear their chatter and quiet laughter in another room- but, much to her displeasure, this always stopped when she entered. When she was around, they spoke only in serious whispers, and she could not help but wonder what she had done to inspire such a reaction to her presence.
They hardly seemed to need her anymore, she painfully admitted and, although she still went to tuck them each in (as she always had) or rushed over to offer a hug when they needed comfort, Peter frequently beat her to it. She had secretly watched him make the rounds to each of their rooms one night, wishing them sweet dreams and saying something confusing about a "great Lion." She had seen him draw Lucy into his arms during a moment of sadness, and watched as he whispered comforting thoughts into her ears while she sobbed into his chest.
It was all so strange, Helen thought. So unexpected. She wondered if there was anything she could do to make them her children again.
Deep down, she doubted that any change was possible. She would just have to deal with the new dynamic that had developed, no matter how much her heart ached, and hope that one day they would develop a new need for her- if not as children, then perhaps as adults.
She heard Peter let out a small chuckle to her right, and she sighed as she pulled herself out of her musings and turned to watched Peter and Lucy speaking quietly by the fire. They were using the hushed tones she was becoming accustomed to, and she could make out little of what they were saying. Judging from the open sketchbook in front of them, she guessed that it had something to do with Lucy's most recent work, and she wished she could hear the full conversation. She was constantly on alert for something, anything, that would tell her why her children had changed so suddenly.
Lucy was beaming as he looked at her picture, and both smiled as he pointed down at something on the page.
"Looks like him, doesn't it?" She head Lucy mutter, a bit louder then before. Perhaps they were letting their guard down, Helen thought hopefully, perhaps they would forget that she was there and allow her to overhear one of their very secretive conversations.
Peter laughed quietly again. "It does. You'll have to ask him what he thinks." He replied, his voice full of more amusement then Helen had detected since their return. "He misses being that tall."
They continued to talk, but their voices dropped again, and the mother was unable to hear any more of their conversation for the next several minutes. She tired her best not to move or make any noise, still hoping that they would forget her presence and let something slip. She wished that she could see the drawing that they were looking at, but unfortunately the coffee table blocked her view. Who did it look like, she wondered- someone that had (somehow) gotten shorter, it seemed. Again, she could only sit and wallow in her confusion. Her children had said many strange things recently, and she was yet to figure anything out.
Much to her dismay, Helen felt a familiar tickle in her nose and, despite her best efforts to hold it back, she let out a sneeze.
Lucy and Peter stopped their whispering, and looked up at her. Lucy with a smile, and Peter with his distant gaze.
"Almost forgot you were in here, mum." Peter said. "Are you feeling ill? Can I get you anything?"
He stood up, and came towards her. For the umpteenth time in the past few weeks, Helen was struck by how…adult…he had become. He had the air of a strong but compassionate man, a far cry from boy she remembered and longed for.
"I am fine, Peter darling." She replied, shifting to release the leg that had fallen asleep during her effort to stay completely still.
He nodded but, much to her surprise, then reached out his hand and placed it on her forehead to check for a fever. She found herself shocked by this simple but unexpected gesture. She was the parent; she should be the one caring for him and checking his temperature. When had the tables turned?
"You feel a bit warm." He mused, looking at her with concern. "Though that may be because the fire is going. Nevertheless…" Peter paused and turned to face his sister. "Lu," He began "Would you mind fetching mum a cool cloth? There should be one in the lavatory."
Helen was surprised by his gentle yet authoritative tone, and could do nothing but watch as Lucy rushed out of the room to do as her older brother asked. The children used to hate it when Peter ordered them around- now, it seemed, they saw nothing objectionable about his requests.
"Peter, really…" Helen began to protest, but he held up his hand and she found her unable to continue. Should cold almost feel the authority radiating off of him. It took her aback, as so many things had recently.
Lucy returned a few seconds later, passing the cloth to Peter. He placed it gently on her head, and gave her a comforting smile. "There. That should help." He said, "Let us know if you need anything else."
I need my children back. She wanted to say. I need to be your mother again.
Instead, she remained silent and watched as he and Lucy went back towards the sketchbook they had left lying on the floor.
She noticed Peter pause in mid step for a moment, his hand moving to his side as if he had felt a sudden pain. He seemed to shake it off however, and a second later he had joined Lucy on the floor once again.
Helen continued to watch him, thinking that perhaps he would be in need of some comfort after all (for once). Perhaps he was the one getting ill.
A grimace crossed his face, and Helen stood up form her spot, the cold cloth falling forgotten onto the wooden floor.
"Peter, are you alright?" She heard Lucy ask.
She took a few steps towards the children, her concern growing as she waited for the answer to Lucy's question.
"Yes…I…" Peter began, struggling to push the pained look from his face. "I am…"
But before he could finish his sentence, another wave of pain seemed to hit him, much worse then before. He doubled over this time, clutching his stomach and closing his eyes tightly. He could no longer hide his anguish.
"Peter!" Helen cried, falling at his side, her motherly instincts kicking into full gear. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Lucy's eyes were wide with fear, and she placed a comforting hand on his back, obviously just as concerned as Helen.
"Peter!" The young girl exclaimed, her panic evident. "What is it? Please, tell me!"
Peter said nothing for a moment, and merely gave a shaky groan. Things appeared to be getting worse, not better. He drew a deep breath, and turned his head in Lucy's direction. This small movement seemed to be a struggle for him.
"Magic." He said, quietly, perhaps hoping Helen would not overhear. "I can feel magic."
The girl gasped, and Helen froze.
Magic?
What did that mean?
Perhaps he was becoming delerous…he needed help. And fast.
Lucy, however, did not seem to find his statement odd, and instead jumped to her feet. "I'll get Ed." She declared. "Maybe he'll know what to do."
Helen wondered, briefly, what her youngest son could possibly do but the thought was pushed from her mind and she noticed something very strange and very troubling. Her eyes grew wider, and she looked up to see Lucy (now too shocked to leave the room and summon Edmund as she had intended) looking equally worried. There seemed to be some sort of odd smoke forming around Peter's crouched body and she could not, in her panic, fathom what could be causing such a thing.
Her first thought was fire, but she could see that there was none near her son, and the smoke cloud which was beginning to form was different then any simple fire smoke se had ever seen.
She felt her confusion and heart rate increase as the mysterious substance continued to envelope his body, and she reached out to touch him. Perhaps she could pull him away from it- she needed to do something.
"Mum, no. Leave him."
Lucy's voice was sterner and more demanding then she had ever heard, and Helen recoiled from her suffering boy. She hardly noticed a loud thud from one of the upstairs rooms, and could only watch in shock as the scene unfolded before her.
Peter's groans had stopped (a good sign, she hoped) but the strange smoke continued to wrap around him, its strange tendrils seeming to draw him into a cloudy cocoon. She felt Lucy come up behind her, and pull her away from Peter's side. "Don't worry mum," She whispered, "I think it will be okay. I can feel it."
The smoke danced.
Helen stared.
And then suddenly, it was all over.
The strange substance left the room as quickly as it had come, and Helen stood up abruptly, anxious to see what had happened to her son. She could not even begin to explain this strange occurrence, but she hoped that Lucy was right to in her belief that it was not a threat.
As she stared down at the floor, however, the relief she hoped for did not come. Her eyes, if possible at this point, grew even wider and she found herself unable to blink or breathe.
Peter was gone…and a strange man had taken his place.
Or so she thought.
Much to her surprise, Lucy was not taken aback by the sight before them, and let out a shriek of happiness and she flung herself down at the man's side. She was grinning widely, happier then she had been since her return home.
"Peter!" She cried, burying her face in the man's chest. The man was lying on his back, she observed, but his eyes began to flutter as he felt Lucy's touch. Whoever he was he was, at least, alive.
"Lu." The strange man replied, his voice raspy as he pushed himself into a sitting position, the grimace on his face showing that this was not a simple task. He pulled her into an embrace, and placed a fatherly kiss on top of her auburn head.
Helen watched, a mixture of fear and curiosity welling inside of her. Where was Peter (this thought filled her with panic)? And why was Lucy so pleased?
Had she called him…
Pushing the final question from her mind, the woman set her gaze on the pair. The man was dressed in very odd attire, she noted, like something out of an Arthurian legend. His deep red tunic and rich brown cape did, somehow, suit him and the shaggy blonde hair and light scruff on his face gave him the appearance of a rustic, yet regal, fellow.
After a moment, the man opened his eyes and (much to her surprise) looked in her direction.
That was when she saw it.
Those eyes.
Those clear, honest, blue eyes.
They were so undeniably familiar.
"Peter." Helen whispered, more to herself then to the others in the room. "You're Peter."
He looked confused for a moment, before smiling. "Yeah, mum. Who else would I be? Of…"
He trailed off, clearly taken aback by the sound of his own voice. Gasping, he turned to his sister for confirmation. "Lucy…what?"
Lucy simply smiled again, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. "You're back, Peter." She replied, knowingly. "Just as you were when we left."
Helen had no idea what this meant, but Peter seemed to catch on quickly. He looked down at his hands, now much larger then they had been five minutes ago, and brought one to his face to feel the stubble now growing there.
"By the Lion's Mane!" He exclaimed, standing up abruptly as Lucy left his embrace. Helen noticed the sword hanging at his side, and wondered if the gold lion embezzled on his chest had anything to do with his strange exclamation. "This is impossible, and yet…"
"I think you should know by now, that nothing is impossible." Lucy said with a laugh.
She looked like she was about to say more, when the sound of loud footsteps from the floor above distracted all of their attentions. Lucy and Peter exchanged a look, and dashed from the room.
Helen, feeling as if she was in some sort of daze, followed her two children (or rather, one child and one grown son) out into the hallway. This must be a dream, she thought, unsuccessfully trying to convince herself that there must be some sort of logical explanation.
Seconds later, a fourth figure appeared at the top of the stairs, and clamoured noisily down to the downstairs hallway.
Helen could not suppress a small yelp as the figure came into full view; it was a young man, brandishing a sword and wearing strange blue attire in the same style as Peter's.
"What in Aslan's name is going on!" The new arrival shouted frantically, his gaze fixed on Lucy. The man paused for a moment, noticing the newly grown Peter for the first time, and allowed his sword to drop to his side. "Peter!" He exclaimed, his free hand raking through his dark hair as he took in the sight before him. Like Lucy, he instantly identified the tall blonde man and his eyes filled with some degree of relief. "But…how did this happen?"
Still dazed, Helen took a shaky step towards the three others, and she could not help but notice the familiar smattering of freckles across the dark haired man's face.
It couldn't be, could it?
"It's okay, Ed!" Lucy exclaimed, confirming Helen's suspicions. This man was Edmund, suddenly (like Peter) a decade older then he had been earlier that day. "I feel like this is supposed to happen. Like it is meant to be."
"Why here, though?" Edmund asked, looking back and forth between his siblings. "Why wouldn't he just send us back to Narnia first? And why not you and Susan?"
Narnia. Helen thought that she had heard that name before, in whispered conversations she hand not been meant to overhear. She never figured out what it meant, but the strange word did seem to be of some importance to her children. She assumed it had something to do with a game, something they made up; though the seriousness of their tone when she had heard them mention it left her with a nagging doubt.
At the sound of her sister's name, Lucy grew more excited and began to dash up the stairs. "I'm going to check on Susan." She declared, clearly enjoying this strange turn of events. "If she has changed, then maybe I am next!"
The girl disappeared out of sight, leaving the mother and her two grown sons alone in the hallway.
They were both much taller then her now, she observed, and so different. They had to be over six feet, and (although she knew that she, as a mother, was biased) both had handsome, well chiselled features. Peter was fair, and Edmund was dark, but there was a definite resemblance between the two, and the way they now carried themselves seemed to indicate a similar sense of nobility.
"Mum." She heard Edmund say, his voice now deep and strong. So different from the boy she had last seen at dinner, and yet something about his tone assured her that this was indeed her beloved younger son. He glanced at her for the first time since entering the hall, and then turned to Peter with a worried look.
"What do we do? How can we possibly explain…" he whispered, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and his older brother. Though they were both, suddenly, adults, it seemed that Peter was still the one to turn to for guidance and advice.
Unable to stay silent any longer, and needing some sort of comfort and explaination, Helen cut in.
"You're my sons." She said, more a statement then a question. She took a step towards them, her eyes looking them over again as she tried to search for more hints of familiarity. "My boys." She whispered, her voice was quiet and shaky, and she could feel that her heart was beating just as rapidly as it had been since Peter had doubled over in pain.
Edmund looked uncomfortable, and shifted under her gaze, while Peter gave her a sad smile.
"We are." Peter said, his voice deep and reassuring. He placed a tender hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry. This must be a shock."
Thinking that "shock" was a bit of an understatement, Helen nodded and placed her shaking hand on top of his large one. He was almost a head taller then her now, and she only just came up past shoulder.
"Oh Peter." She whispered, raising her other hand and bringing it up to brush his rough cheek. She stared at him for a moment, and he obligingly let her scrutinize him. She could see traces of his former self; his eyes, his hair, the gentle curve of his smile…and he had the same well defined jaw as her husband, she thought forlornly.
Her eyes darted to the slightly younger man, who still looked terribly uncomfortable, and she gestured for him to come nearer.
She needed to see.
She needed to be sure.
He reluctantly came forth and, after a pointed look from Peter, submitted himself to the same scrutiny. She could see the traces again; she noted with a mixture of dismay and pride, there was no mistaking that this was her Edmund.
Helen barely managed to choke back tears as she drew her two sons into a tight embrace. Although it was odd to think that these men before her had been boys just minutes ago, the hug was warmer and more genuine then any they had given her since their return.
She felt so small and helpless…so confused and overwhelmed…and yet, as Lucy had said, things also felt strangely right.
The woman drew back, hoping to ask them for more of an explanation and wondering if there was any logical one available, but the sound of noise from upstairs provided a new distraction.
There were hurried footsteps, and two colourful blurs suddenly rushed down the steps. When they came to a halt, it was clear that the blurs were in fact two elegantly dressed young women.
"Peter! Edmund! Do you feel that?" One of the new arrivals asked. She was a strikingly beautiful dark haired figure, and Helen (beginning to catch on now) suspected that it might have been Susan.
"We can both feel a sort of pulling sensation." The second woman said, with a reconisable grin. "I think…maybe…he's calling us back."
Nodding, the two men turned to face the women. "I feel it too." Edmund stated, with a note of anticipation.
"As do I." Peter agreed.
Helen was confused, for the umpteenth time that evening, but said nothing. She did not feel anything out of the ordinary, aside from her complete and utter shock.
There was a moment of silence before Peter shouted "Grab onto me." With a sense of extereme urgency. The others quickly listened and, after hesitating for a second, Helen decided to follow his instruction as well.
She grabbed Peter's shoulder, grasping his tunic tightly and wondering what had gotten the four siblings in such an excited yet paniced state.
She saw Peter turn his head towards her, his eyes full of surprise, but before he could utter a word a strange sensation overcame them all and the world began to blur. The hallway melted away, her vision faded, and Helen felt as if she was being hurled through the open air.
The only thing keeping her steady and sane was Peter' shoulder, and she held on for dear life.
After several long moments of shock and confusion she felt herself being thrown onto a soft surface. Peter slipped away, but when she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she could see that he was still near.
Relieved to find that four other figures were sprawled out before her, Helen blinked again and took in her new surroundings.
She was no longer in their dark house in Finchley and was instead sprawled out on a sandy, sunny beach.
"Home."
She heard Edmund mutter beside her.
"We're home."
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A/N Please give me your thoughts and let me know if I should continue!