Hands of a Healer, Hands of a Fighter
A girl falls into Narnia along with Lucy, Edmund and Eustace to sail upon the Dawn Treader. Edmund thinks nothing could be worse, but trapped on a boat love, friendship and jealousy among other things bloom. The green mist is ever watchful though and what hidden secrets does she carry? Can love overcome fear? (Set during Voyage of the Dawn Treader)
Chapter One;
Edmund Pevensie walked briskly along the darkened streets of Cambridge, pulling his coat tighter about himself to better shield himself from the cool drizzle that fell.
He hurried along, gritting his teeth in annoyance at the persistently damp weather that now had his coat practically sodden, after he was forced to walk from the train station.
However he tried to cheer himself along with the thought that once he got back to his Aunt Alberta's house there would be a blazing fire to warm his numb fingers and hot food to enjoy, even if it meant he would have to suffer Eustace Scrubb's snide remarks.
Edmund, checking the way was clear, rushed down a side street; he could practically hear Lucy's voice in his head admonishing him about taking short-cuts down the secluded alleyways.
But it was cold, raining, and getting ever-increasingly darker.
Edmund had been previously that day, sent by his uncle Mr Harold Scrubb on an errand to London.
His uncle hadn't even told him what the errand entailed before Edmund had eagerly agreed; anything to escape having to sit and listen to his cousin drone on endlessly, complaining about him and Lucy being only guests and taking too much liberties as such etc. etc.
And besides, Edmund had another motive in going to London.
Edmund wanted to sign up for the war.
A few days ago he had managed to silently pocket his aunt's ration book when no one else was looking. And Edmund had every intention of using it to enlist; he could easily explain away the Alberta Scrubb for Albert. A Scrubb as a typographical error.
But after he had seen to his uncle's errand; things had slowly went downhill from there.
First he had lost the ration book, and had to return to the bank (for that was where his uncle's business had been) where he had left it to retrieve it. Then secondly, when he had arrived at the bank the clerk had been reluctant to hand it over to him, as she disbelieved that it was his.
Thirdly, after he had finally convinced the clerk to give him back his aunt's ration book he had gotten lost in London as he tried to find the building where one could enlist. Then to make matters even worse the man he had stopped to inquire for directions gave him the wrong ones, and as such Edmund found himself wandering in completely the opposite way of where he wanted to go.
It was about that time that it had started to rain, and Edmund had reluctantly given up. It was as though something didn't want him to make it to the building!
So Edmund trudged his way back to the train station to get the return train to Cambridge.
But his luck had been dismal all day, and it seemed it was not about to get any better. Edmund arrived at the train station in London, already feeling abominably wretched, only to find that he had missed his train.
He had had to sulk for over two hours in damp clothes waiting; the war having greatly disrupted train schedules.
And that had been the end of the whole sorry affair and the circumstances that currently found Edmund Pevensie rushing along the Cambridge streets, drenched and perfectly miserable, having failed once again to sign up for the war effort.
Edmund clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles visibly twitching in annoyance and frustration.
Edmund had wanted to sign up for the war since the beginning, but his mother had begged him not to and so he had relented. But his mother was in America now, and she couldn't stop him if he wanted to enlist.
He knew it was awfully sly to do it now when Mrs Pevensie would be unable to stop him given there was a whole sea between them, and in truth Edmund still felt a little guilty at it but –
This was war! And he had every right to help defend his country honourably and to do his duty. Why couldn't his mother see that?
Besides he has led countless armies to great victories when he had been a King in Narnia, he had seen battle before, he was a skilled soldier.
Yet you can't even make it to the enlistment building, his thoughts muttered sarcastically.
Edmund frowned darkly as he skirted around a particularly large puddle on the pavement, studiously ignoring that last thought.
Pushing on through the chilling rain, Edmund had just been about to cut once more through another alley. The action made his thoughts go irretrievably to his younger sister, and made him feel a little shame-faced, knowing she would be fretting, wondering where he was, and also for having left Lucy with no company but Eustace for the entire day.
Edmund shuddered at the thought as he reached the mouth of the alley when suddenly he froze, his blood turned to ice in his veins, his heart leaping into his throat.
The long warbling wails of the sirens tore through the air like warning screams, ever increasing in their volume.
Adrenaline coursed through Edmund's body then, every muscle tense as he quickly looked around his surroundings.
He was still in downtown, and as such the majority of buildings about him were places of work and business; like banks, offices and shops that were all already shuttered up for the night.
The streets at this time were deserted though, and Edmund cursed under his breath as he realised he didn't know where the nearest air-raid shelter was.
He and Lucy had only been staying at their aunt's a week and so were still only really settling in. He knew the air-raid shelter nearest to Aunt Alberta's house, but here in this part of town he was completely at a loss.
Edmund pushed down the frantic nerves as he swiftly considered his options in a few seconds.
As it were; Edmund considered he had only two options open to him.
One; he could either run about trying to look for a shelter and hope that he found one before the bombs fell.
Or Two; he could make for the train station he had just come from.
The train station was underground, and he knew that in times of emergency or overflow that it was used as an impromptu air-raid shelter.
Edmund chose the latter of the options as he took off in a dead sprint, racing back through the streets he had just come from, barely noticing when he splashed through practically every puddle; his trousers and shoes becoming desperately wet.
But even as he ran, Edmund felt it; a slight tremor that ran through the ground beneath his feet, a dull rumbling roar sounding from not too far away. He could hear them now above him, above the still wailing sirens; the rattle of gunfire punctuating the air as their home soldiers fired back, and the hum of the planes above all carrying their deadly cargo.
Edmund sprinted, relief washing over him as he caught sight of the train station ahead of him.
Picking up the pace Edmund shot across the street; he was only thirty metres away when he fell to the ground.
Edmund instinctively curled up, protecting his head with his arms.
As soon as the earth's trembling had ceased Edmund was on his feet again.
Already he could hear the lesser sirens, as fire brigades rushed to the scene of the latest bomb to quench the fires before they could spread.
Edmund took off again, chancing one glance over his shoulder.
The bomb had hit the street next to him; maybe luck was on his side today?
The buildings of the street he was on that led to the train station remained standing; but their windows had all been shattered with the sudden impact. Minor avalanches of tiles had come dislodged raining from the rooftops, smashing across the pavement like a deadly shower.
Edmund had in fact been struck with one such broken fragment of slate, a bloody gash marring his forehead, stretching from just above his left eye to his temple. But Edmund barely noticed it; the adrenaline still coursing through his body numbing the pain.
Edmund crashed into the open doors of the train station. Already tongues of orange flame blazed angrily against the black sky, plumes of billowing thick smoke polluting the air all that remained of the buildings in the next street.
Tearing past the ticket booths Edmund clattered down the stairs that led to the underground railway tracks and collapsed readily, sliding down the tiles of the nearest wall, his throat burning.
Edmund panted heavily, his head between his knees, as he fought to steady his breathing and slow his racing heart.
Slowly the adrenaline began to ebb, and as it did Edmund became aware of the sharp stinging throbbing above his left eye.
He raised his hand gingerly to his head to prod at it, only to hiss as his fingers came in contact with the deep gash.
He examined his fingertips now stained crimson with a grim expression.
"That looks nasty."
Edmund's head snapped up at the new voice.
A girl around his age, if not then one or two years older at best, was crouched down on her hunkers not a metre away from him, examining his head with narrowed critical eyes.
Edmund immediately noticed her clothes.
She was wearing the grey woollen shoulder cape with the scarlet border, grey flannel dress and the white veil attached to the back of her head.
A nurse.
Edmund stared at her dumbly for a moment.
She arched a questioning brow at him. "I can take a look at it, if you want?" she offered.
Edmund shook his head, a slight dusting of pink rising to his cheeks as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Um, no – it's fine, really," Edmund protested.
She looked at him sceptically.
"I do know what I'm doing you know," she said, clearly a little irritated by her tone.
Edmund frowned lightly. Weren't nurses supposed to be polite and pleasant?
Edmund looked at her; her face was stained with soot and her clothes were dirty as well, and if he looked closely it seemed as though the hem of her dress was scorched slightly.
She followed his gaze curiously, and then realising what he was looking at shrugged a little, rubbing a self-conscious hand across her forehead, evidently embarrassed.
"I got caught out heading to the hospital for my shift," she explained sheepishly.
"I got caught walking home from the train station – here actually," Edmund replied.
A slightly awkward silence followed during which Edmund looked about the train station.
Further on down there was a trio of men huddled together talking, about a metre away from them an elderly man sat quietly alone, smoking a pipe, and less than half a metre from him were two middle aged women, both with stern expressions that were eyeing everyone suspiciously.
It seemed they all had been caught out.
Up above the dull thuds as more bombs being dropped could be heard, tremors shaking the earth causing little showers of dust as the lights flickered uncertainly.
"Better let me have a look at that now while the lights are still on."
Edmund turned his attention back to the nurse as she once more eyed the gash on his forehead meaningfully.
Edmund sighed; 'I might as well let her look at it.'
"Thank-you," Edmund said as he nodded his consent.
She smiled at him a little victoriously it had to be said before leaping to her feet.
"Back in a jiffy – getting my bag," she said hurriedly before moving away.
Edmund watched her go sighing deeply, wondering how long he would be stuck in here for.
She returned a moment later, plopping a large leather oblong shaped bag down beside him.
Edmund straightened a little, lifting his head slightly as she knelt down at his side.
She raised her hands to his head before pausing, her hands stilling, and smiling apologetically and blushing she lowered them again, producing a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress to clean her soot blackened hands.
Then once more she raised her hands and began to probe the wound gingerly, Edmund sitting as still as possible.
"I'm Edmund by the way. Edmund Pevensie," he introduced himself, feeling it was the right thing to do.
She lowered her hands and opening her bag she began to rifle through it until she found what she was looking for.
She met his gaze then, a padded white cloth in her hand and grinned.
"I'm Rose – Nurse Rose Edwards," she replied, and there was an unmistakable note of pride in her voice when she said it.
Edmund gave her an amused smile, as she once more set to fixing up his head.
Rose began to clean away the blood that was still flowing quite heavily from the wound.
Edmund winced – again. He realised that his wound made his head all that more tender, but he couldn't help but feel like Nurse Rose was being less than gentle.
After the wound was cleaned up Rose discarded the now stained cloth, and rifled through her bag once more.
Edmund watched her curiously. "You're a bit young to be a nurse aren't you?" he remarked off-handily.
However the effect on her was instantaneous.
Nurse Rose's head immediately snapped up, her emerald eyes narrowing fiercely. "I do know what I'm doing," she enforced once more, her tone decidedly cooler.
Edmund eyed her warily. "Of course, I wasn't implying that you didn't, I just…"
"Ah! Here it is!"
Edmund was effectively silenced, when from her bag Rose produced a needle and surgical thread.
Edmund gulped.
"Erm…Nurse Rose?"
Rose's brows were drawn down in concentration as she lined the thread up to the eye of the needle.
Edmund felt a little disconcerted to say the least.
She did say she was a nurse. She certainly had the uniform and the apparatus it seemed but…she was no older than him, Edmund's thoughts registered, with a slight degree of panic it had to be said.
"Nurse Rose," Edmund tried again, a little firmer.
She looked up at him questioningly, needle and thread still poised in her hands.
Now that she was looking at him Edmund found that he didn't know quite what to say, or how to politely tell a girl he had just met, who was going out of her way to help him, that he didn't quite trust her ability to do so.
"What?" Rose intoned impatiently, an ebony brow arched expectantly.
Edmund looked at the needle and then like he had once before, considered his options.
He could One; let 'Nurse Rose' whose abilities he doubted, stitch up his very delicate head injury, and possibly cause him more harm.
Or Two; he risked offending her, safe in the knowledge that he probably wouldn't meet her ever again, and remain with his head intact.
Edmund chose Option Two, but the gentleman inside him decided to try and be tactful about it.
"I don't think it needs stitches – it's just a pretty bad cut. It will be fine," Edmund said earnestly.
Rose's eyes narrowed again. Edmund considered she looked alarmingly fierce when she did that.
"It needs stitches," she told him bluntly, needle and thread still in her hands.
Edmund eyed the sharp point of the needle. "No, I think it's fine," he argued.
Rose breathed out heavily through her nose, her nostrils flaring.
"I am a Nurse and I say it needs stitching," Nurse Rose replied firmly, looking at him sternly for a moment before turning her attention back to the task in her hands, clearly assuming the matter decided.
Edmund looked again at the needle and decided to hell with manners; 'she is not putting that needle near me!'
"Stitches won't be necessary," he said resolutely.
Her head snapped up, her irritation clear in how she struggled still to thread the needle.
Her lips twitched and her eyes flashed green fire. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again, repeated the process and then gave a sound somewhere between a scoff and sigh, her shoulders visibly deflating as she scowled at Edmund.
Edmund breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to offend her, but he wasn't going to let her start poking around his head with a sharp object just to spare her feelings.
"You are very young to be a nurse," Edmund remarked again; an unconscious will to try and justify his actions at seeing her so clearly disappointed.
"Well if you bleed to death it's no fault of mine. I tried to do my duty as a nurse but…" she started saying in a tone of loftiness as she packed away her medical equipment.
"Hold on! I'm not going to bleed to death," Edmund stressed.
Rose looked at him, her expression very aloof. "You might," she replied.
Edmund scowled. He was glad he hadn't let her go poking about at his head. God knows what damage she would have done!
Edmund folded his arms agitatedly.
"How old are you anyway?" Edmund demanded.
She glared at him by way of response. "A lady never tells her age."
Edmund rolled his eyes, and found himself hoping the bombing would be over soon just so he could escape Nurse Rose Edwards.
But as it has been established; luck didn't seem to be on Edmund Pevensie's side that day.
A/N: The bombing, places (i.e. train station, hospital etc.) are all entirely fictional and do not in any way depict Cambridge during that time period.
Let me know what you think; constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, reviews make me ridiculously happy, flames keep the White Witch away. /grin/