Story number 3 of Story a Day for Holy Week 2011.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Pevensies, Jadis, or any other traditional characters. I especially do not own Narnia itself - that belongs to CS Lewis. This is just for pure fun; I am not making any money off of it.

Disclaimer II: Some aspects may resemble other stories, but it is not intentional if they do. I've simply read a thousand stories and they're floating in my subconscious state. So if I copied you, it was inadvertent, and I apologize to you.

Disclaimer III: I own Gordon and the Lieutenant General - they are my own characters for my own purposes. I ask if you would like to use them to please message me first. Also, I ask that no one steals any of the plot ideas in this story. Again, if you would like to use them, please message me first. Thank you.

Rating: K+ - no adult themes, though contains some minor violence. Intended for ages 9+.

Time Period: A few months after Prince Caspian.

Pre-Reading Notes: Mainly a book-verse, but contains reference to Miraz's Castle raid scene, because I needed the flashlight (called electric torch). Also, MI6 is the UK's version of CIA in America. With that said, all I ask is that you critique and enjoy!

"I think it's coming back," said Edmund.

Peter and Edmund were studying in a quiet corner of the boarding school library. Edmund had waited until the table of rowdy boys left for the cafeteria before opening up to Peter.

"What now, Ed?" The older sibling's eyes never left his textbook. Finals were coming, and Peter needed to cram every ounce of information into his head.

"J-" started Edmund.

Peter's head snapped up. "Jadis?" he whispered.

"The wound, not," Edmund said, "Not her. She's dead."

"Well, I'm not going back to Narnia, so it's up to you."

"Hey, Pevensie." Both turned around. "Pipsqueak." Edmund rolled his eyes at the nickname. Somehow, pipsqueak had spread around school to people Edmund didn't know, including these boys. Being stuck in an 12 year old's body was no fun, especially after you had been 25 two years ago.

"Got a girlfriend?" asked one.

"What did he call her? Yeah, Jade Narnia."

Peter exhaled. They hadn't heard the full conversation, just a feminine name.

"I bet she's pretty."

"Naw, little Pev couldn't get a beaut even if he tried."

Edmund tried to ignore the boys, but his patience broke when one said, "She'll leave him when she finds out that he can't fight."

"Oh, really?" retorted Edmund. Peter dropped his book and placed a hand on Edmund's chest. Edmund released himself from Peter's grip. "Let's see about that."

"Ed, there's four of them," Peter cautioned. His eyes wandered to the Lieutenant General. He had been assigned to the school to keep an eye on the fights, which seemed to be getting more and more frequent.

"Older Pevensie know's what he's talking about."

Everyone knew not to mess with Peter. He never gave a thought before hitting someone who really offended him. The newcomers were warned on their first day about Peter. Even the upperclassmen would stay far away from the boy. You were sure to lose in a fistfight against Peter, no matter how many people you had as backup.

Edmund, on the other hand, tried his hardest to stay out of fights. He had tried to convince himself it was because he had gone through a period as a bully in grammar school, and didn't want to regress upon old ways. Truthfully, Edmund knew that wasn't the real reason. He was still small and lanky, though he could probably kill all four of the boys on the spot. Now that Lieutenant General was here, though, Edmund would have to explain any fights he got into. It would sound quite silly saying you had once been in wars of all sorts, as an older man. In fact, you'd probably get sent to a mental clinic.

"I could kill you all," muttered Edmund. He shut his notebook and stuffed it angrily into his bag.

"No you couldn't, squirt," said the largest boy.

That last name did it. "Squirt?" Edmund asked. "Squirting blood as soon as I get my hands on you is more like it!" Edmund stepped up to the boy. He was oblivious to the fact that he was several inches shorter.

"Hit 'im, Gordon!" said the smallest. Gordon tried to strike Edmund, but Edmund was nimble. He was able to dash to Gordon's left and grab his wrist. Using the momentum already created by the punch, Edmund swung Gordon onto the table. Edmund grabbed Gordon's hair and smashed his head against the table, causing blood to flow from Gordon's nose.

The other boys hesitated in helping, afraid Peter would step in. But Peter didn't. He stepped back, clutching his books tightly against his chest. It's Edmund's fight, Peter reminded himself. One by one, they all came at Edmund.

Edmund groped around his bag for his electric torch. His hand closed around the cool aluminum cylinder. A certain night in Miraz's castle came to mind as Edmund simultaneously hit one boy over the head and gave another a kick to the groin. Scared, the fourth boy ran squealing out of the room. Edmund stepped backwards, right into someone's body.

The Lieutenant General cleared his throat. "My office. Now." Edmund pressed his lips together. Peter gave Edmund a sympathetic look before exiting the room. Edmund followed the man to his office, head hanging in shame.

Edmund sat in the office for a while, straining his ears to hear the hushed sounds in the Lieutenant's office. At last, the principal motioned for Edmund to come in. Edmund stood with his back pressed against the door. The two men examined Edmund's scrawny body.

"Am I in trouble?" asked Edmund with a trembling voice. Mum would not be happy if he got expelled from another school.

"Yes," said the principal. He considered it for a minute, exchanging a look with the Lieutenant General. "No. Well, I'm not sure."

The Lieutenant stepped forward. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"He's twelve, sir," said the principal.

"I want to hear it from the boy."

"T-t-twelve," Edmund managed say.

"Only twelve? I find that hard to believe. Those boys were sixteen. You took on all three single-handedly." He sat down. "Tell me, um..."

"Edmund."

"Tell me, Edmund, where did you learn to do that?"

"I learned it from-"

"And don't tell me Peter - I've dealt with that boy enough. He's never once attempted stunts like that."

Stunts? mused Edmund, Those are simple combat moves. What kind of training do you have?

"It was just simple defense."

The Lieutenant General held the door open, wanting the principal to leave. When at last the principal was outside, behind the closed door, the Lieutenant spoke. "I worked with MI6. I know what simple defense is. That. That is not."

Edmund simply shrugged. "It came to me, sort of in the way when you haven't done something in a while, and your body is remembering how to do the task again." Well, that isn't exactly lying, thought Edmund.

"I understand you are interested in studying law."

"Yes, sir." Studying? I already know how to rule justly.

"You should consider joining MI6."

"I couldn't leave my family. They need me."

"So does your country. And your team would be your family."

"I thought you were in the army."

"You never truly leave MI6. It's always a part of you. I'm simply passing on the torch."

Sounds like Narnia. Once a king or queen, always a king or queen. "I'll think about it." Edmund turned to leave.

"Edmund?" Edmund paused.

"Do me a favor and don't get in to any more fights. I wouldn't want to expel the first boy who shows some promise. Oh, and the nurse is waiting outside to look at that stomach of yours."

Edmund mumbled his agreement. He didn't expect anyone would try fighting him, after they heard about Gordon. The nurse was outside, as promised, and diagnosed Edmund's stomach as slight bruising. Edmund knew it was worse, though. He did have a chance to notice that Gordon's blood was on his shirt. Great, my only school shirt, and I have a few more classes to go still. Edmund headed in the direction of Peter's dorm.

"Pete?" Peter recognized Edmund's voice and opened the door for his brother.

"What'd Lieutenant have to say?"

"He wants me to join MI6. And the nurse said I got hit pretty hard in the stomach."

Peter frowned. "MI6, Ed?"

Edmund's mind was elsewhere. "I think I would know if someone touched me. You don't think so, right?" he said as he took of his bloody shirt.

"Course not. You wouldn't get hit," said Peter, "But, Ed, MI6?"

"Yeah, what about it. Can I borrow a shirt?" Peter handed Edmund a white button down. "It sounds like it would be similar to fighting for Narnia."

"Edmund! You can't join MI6! And it's definitely not like Narnia!" Peter said, struggling to control his anger.

"Why not? And how so?"

"Well, for starters, what will mum say? And Susan and Lucy? And father? Haven't you seen all the soldiers dead from World War II? Don't you think you're likely to be put on the battlefield?"

"Peter, calm down. I'm only twelve - there's still time. But, that doesn't answer how it's different from Narnia. I was fine there!"

"Except for-" Peter waved his hands at Edmund's gut. He didn't see the bruised stomach it was now, but instead the bloody hole it had once held. Peter was growing more and more frustrated. "I thought you were the one who liked History, Ed!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You wouldn't use a sword, you'd use a gun. You wouldn't have a horse, you'd be on foot or in cars, or on buildings. There's less room and less of people on your side. How do you know there wouldn't be snipers? Or automated guns?"

"I don't figure a gun is different from a bow and arrow," mused Edmund. He picked up his school bag. "By the way, you never said that you cared whether I joined." Edmund opened the door.

"Do you remember the night before we left home?" asked Peter. Edmund would have left already if he hadn't heard Peter's shaky voice. He sounded on the verge of tears as he said, "I woke up screaming."

"Yeah, you're loony," said Edmund, tapping his head.

"No, Ed, I'm not. I dreamed that you joined the army and got killed. You can't. I promised that you'd never get hurt. You don't know how... how... how horrible I felt when..." Peter motioned at Edmund's stomach again, not wanting to mention Narnia. "It was all my fault, too. I wasn't watching you. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have this relapse and ugly bruises and-"

"Look, Pete. I thought we were over this."

"You may be, but I'm not."

Edmund sighed. "Can we talk later? I have class all the way across the greenspace, and if I don't leave now, I'll be late."

Peter gulped. "Go," he said shortly. "This isn't over, though."

~END~

A/N: Aye, MI6, the epitome of awesomeness. Ah, if only I was English, I could join MI6, but nope, we've got CIA in America. Cute little brother one-shot. Enjoyed writing this, because, well, hullo: MI6! Hehehe, the idea of Lieutenant General came because our school actually has a Colonel due to fights getting out of hand. Three cheers for Mintey's school giving her plots! Anyway, review/critique, please! Oh, somehow, I managed to write such a serious fiction while listening to Hakuna Matata on infinite repeat... WIN!