Worlds Apart
A Bridge to Terabithia Fan Fiction

First of all, thank you for reading. For the record, Worlds Apart is set in the movieverse, however I added two years to each character's age. The age adjustment will not directly affect any of the canon events. Also, if you have any objection to non-canon characters, you might want to suppress that prejudice for the duration of this story. I'm not good at compartmentalizing stories into genres, so take the genre with a grain of salt. If you were expecting a longer preface, I apologize for not delivering. Enjoy the story!

Props: Thanks a lot to NarnianMelody and snowstargirl for beta-ing this chapter! They were both immensely helpful, and deserve more credit than I can give for their assistance.

Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Terabithia. It originally belonged to Katherine Patterson, but now may be split among Disney and other corporations. No profit was, or will be received from this story.

Chapter 1 – Knowledge is Power
(Please read and review, it makes us better writers.)

"Why am I not surprised?" Foster sighed as he climbed into bed. Another day had come and passed, but this wasn't just another day. It was his twelfth birthday, and his father had completely forgotten about it.

In truth, he knew the answer to his own question. Ever since his mother had passed away two years earlier on the day before Christmas, his father had been more distant than ever. Things just hadn't returned to normal.

Foster snorted at the thought. Normal. What is normal, anyway?

"Whatever it is," he thought to himself, "My father and I are about as far from it as possible."

His father was one of the founding members of The Flame, an underground revolutionary group working to overthrow the Dark Master. Foster, on the other hand… well, let's just say he didn't look like your typical Terabithian.

Adults told Foster that he looked like a human, but he had never actually seen a human except in textbooks, so he couldn't say for sure. Both of his parents were definitely Terabithian, so he suspected that he'd been adopted. When he had asked his mother about this, she'd simply given him a hug and said, "All that matters is that your father and I love you very much."

In response to the same question, his father would reply with "It's complicated," and change the subject.

Foster tried to put those thoughts out of his mind, but they kept pestering him, like an annoying itch he couldn't scratch. Realizing that sleep would not be coming anytime soon, he threw the sheets back, got up, and walked into the bathroom. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he raked his fingers through his jet-black hair. It was neat, yet disheveled; short enough that it didn't require much combing. He had piercing blue eyes that could bore a hole straight through a person, and a well-defined jaw. He was quite handsome by human standards, but of course he didn't know that.

He shook his head vigorously and splashed some water on his face. He was zoning out again.

His mind had a habit of leaving the world around him and running off, only to get lost in his own thoughts. As he reached for the door handle, he heard the front door slam shut. His father was home.

Foster wandered out to the living room to greet him.

"Hey Dad," Foster said.

His father had already grabbed the day's newspaper and sat down in his favorite blue recliner. "Hey yourself," he replied.

"How was the meeting?" Foster asked. Every Thursday night, The Flame's Board of Generals met to discuss important happenings during the past week. His father, being one of the top officials in The Flame, helped to moderate their meetings.

The grimace on his father's face answered for him.

"Terrible. Recruiting's down, and we don't have the money nor the resources to properly equip the people we already have. We've estimated that around 90 percent of the population has chosen to give up and accept the Dark Master's rule, at least for the time being. I honestly don't…"

He stopped himself. "Why don't you get to bed? It's late, and you've got school tomorrow." He ended the conversation by covering his face with the paper.

Foster said nothing, just spun around and returned to his bed. His head buzzed with questions, not the least of which was "How did you manage to forget my birthday?", but he knew he'd get nothing more out of his father. Besides, that was the most his father had said to him in well over six months. He had to admit that cheered him up a bit, even if the subject matter didn't.

As he got into bed for the second time that evening, Foster reviewed his schedule for the next day.

Tuesday.

That meant school until mid-afternoon, and training with Edge immediately thereafter. "Should be a fun day," he thought to himself.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Boom, boom, boom. Foster awoke with a jolt to the sound of his father pounding on the outside of his bedroom wall. "Time to get up!" His father called.

Foster rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and was fully awake in less than 10 seconds. In fact, he didn't even remember falling asleep in the first place. That was the way it was with him. Some people liked to stay in bed and drift back and forth, in and out of sleep, but he wasn't one of those people. If the Dark Master or one of his minions decided to raid their house, he didn't want to be caught lying in bed.

After he had gotten dressed, Foster made his way through the living room and into the kitchen. His father was already there, enjoying his usual breakfast of coffee and cold cereal. Foster got himself a bowl of the same cereal and poured a cup of orange juice from the jug on the counter. He sat down in the chair across from his father.

Silence loomed over the table. As usual.

Foster decided against mentioning his birthday. It was over and done with now, and there was no sense in putting more stress on his father.

As he finished his breakfast, his father looked up.

"Better get to school."

"Yeah," Foster replied.

He grabbed his satchel from its place next to the front door and left his house without any delay.

His school was only about 500 yards from his house, so he had no problem walking the distance. He could have flown or ridden in like most of the other kids, but it wasn't worth the bother. When it rained, he just brought an umbrella. He enjoyed the exercise; it made him feel independent.

As he trudged up the path to the front door of the school, he glanced around the schoolyard. Everyone avoided eye contact with him. As usual.

It wasn't that they didn't like humans. In fact, everyone eagerly anticipated the next coming of humans. It would signal the beginning of the end for the Dark Master and his reign of tyranny. The royal family would be reestablished, and peace and harmony would prevail. At least, that's what the Idealists liked to say.

No, the real reason his classmates avoided him like the plague was simply because he looked different. Not to mention the fact that he lacked the god-like powers that he had heard humans acquired when they ventured into Terabithia. He figured that since he had lived in Terabithia for as long as he could remember, he didn't really count as an outsider.

Then again, he didn't feel like an insider, either.

Foster shook his head as he continued inside to his first class. Edge always said that self-pity is a waste of time, and he was right. As usual.

Foster knew it could have been… no, it had been worse. Growing up, he used to get picked on mercilessly by the other kids. Every day had meant more things stolen, more bruises to add to his collection. He never told either of his parents about his problems. It would have broken his mother's heart to know the truth about what went on at school.

When he turned 10, his father had started grooming Foster to be his successor. After pulling a few strings, his father was lucky enough to secure an apprenticeship with Edge, a highly accomplished special ops warrior. From him, Foster learned everything from archery to martial arts to covert ops. They had similar personalities and interests, and soon grew to be best friends despite the 20 year age difference between them.

Foster had been training for about a year when his mother suddenly died of a mysterious ailment. Some suspected the Dark Master had had her poisoned, but no one could say for sure. The Flame had other priorities besides investigating deaths, which were too frequent an occurrence under the Dark Master's rule. Everyone else preferred to look the other way and avoid a similar fate.

The emotional stress took its toll on Foster. He grew moody and reclusive, speaking as little as possible and spending his free time hiding in his room, composing songs. Songwriting had become a hobby of his, something that helped him get away from the pain that he couldn't get out of his head.

Three weeks after his mother's death, Foster was walking up the stairs to the second floor of his school. Kent Durahil, a school bully who was 2 years older, 6 inches taller, and 70 pounds heavier, approached him from behind. Just as Foster reached the top step, Kent stuck his leg out and viciously tripped him from behind. Echoes of his taunt still rang in Foster's ears:

"Watch that last step, Newham. It's a doozy."

Foster snapped.

- - - - - - - - - - -

When all was said and done, Kent had to be rushed to the hospital with a broken jaw as well as a few broken ribs. Luckily, a teacher had witnessed the incident, or Foster would likely have been facing expulsion. In the end, he received nothing more than a week's worth of detention and the fearful respect of every student in the school.

Needless to say, the teasing stopped.

Foster stepped through the doorway of his first class, Formulas, and took his seat in the front left corner of the classroom with practiced ease. His teacher, Mr. Larson, was nothing short of a mathematical genius. He could use math to make one believe two plus two equaled five, if he wanted to.

Mr. Larson greeted the class and wasted no time diving right into the concept of multiple variable equations with an exuberance not often seen in math teachers. He seemed genuinely excited to be sharing his knowledge with the class.

As the bell signaling the end of class rang, Foster's brain automatically shut down. Formulas was the only class he really needed to pay attention in. He had found that in all other classes, he was gifted with the ability to completely space out while still passively absorbing information. As a result, schoolwork came easy for him; he had been a straight-A student for his entire life. However, it still wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, probably as an unconscious reaction to the countless bullies who had made his early school days a living hell. Over time, Foster had come to realize that education was a necessary evil, and (as the teachers were quick to point out) it would no doubt prove useful later in life.

The rest of the school day passed by without event. As the final bell rang, Foster gathered his things and headed for home. He stopped there briefly to drop off his satchel and to snack on a juicy apple before jogging over to Edge's house for his training.

The funny thing about Edge was that even though everyone in The Flameknew and trusted him, nobody knew much about him. No one knew his real name (or if he even had one, for that matter), where he came from, or who his family was. The only thing people knew about him was that he was an exceptional warrior and a brilliant tactician who had risked his life many times running missions for The Flame. In the bleak reality of a world ruled by the Dark Master, that was all that mattered.

As he gained notoriety, Edge had grown to be something of a legend among the Terabithian people. However, he frequently commented that, "The real man doesn't stand up to the legend." He didn't fancy himself a war hero by any means, preferring to focus on doing what needed to be done rather than wasting time boasting of his achievements.

Edge was incredibly ordinary in both appearance and dress, to the extent that he could easily walk right by a Squogre patrol without being recognized. Some attention-seeking people might have considered looking ordinary to be a flaw, but Edge thought of it as an advantage. This, combined with the fact that he lived alone, allowed him to be highly mobile and virtually untraceable by the Dark Master.

Foster blinked. He was standing on Edge's doorstep. He raised his hand to knock, but the door flew open before his fingers hit the wood.

"I was wondering how long you were gonna stand there. Come on in!" Warmth radiated from Edge's friendly smile as he beckoned Foster inside.

"Sorry about that," Foster apologized. "I kind of got lost…"

"…in thought," Edge finished. "Don't worry about it. It happens. Might want to avoid doing that when you're in combat, though. Could get you into a sticky situation."

Foster shook his head ruefully.

"That's Edge for you," he thought to himself. "Everything always relates back to business."

"Anyway, now that you're here, I've got something for you. Consider it a belated birthday present."

Foster followed Edge into his sparsely furnished living room and sat down beside him on the lone sofa. The glass-topped coffee table across from them was spotless, but had nothing on it.

After a few seconds, Foster managed to work up the nerve to ask, "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Edge innocently replied. His perfectly straight face gave away no secrets.

Foster was nonplussed. "The thing you were going to show me!"

The corners of Edge's mouth curled up into a half-grin as he let out a soft chuckle. "The 'thing' is not something you can hold in your hands."

"Well, what is it?"

"Knowledge: one of the most valuable tools you can possess." Edge crossed one leg over the other. "Anyways, I have to set it up with a story first. You'll remember that I told you I'd be gone yesterday."

Foster nodded. "So that's what this is about," he said. "Did you go on some kind of secret mission?"

"Not exactly."

"What, then?"

"Maybe if you stop asking questions, I'll be able to tell you." Edge flashed that same half-grin again.

Foster opened his mouth to voice his agreement, but thought better of it and settled into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

"A few months after Solomon gave up his name and became the depraved dictator known as the Dark Master, he came to a very important realization: knowledge is power. This led him to seize control of the Terabithian Archives, which unfortunately were only about three blocks away from his newly erected stronghold. He reasoned that if he could curb the flow of information, he would ultimately have that much more control over the population.

"Of course, he didn't want to send Terabithia back to the Dark Ages, so he allowed learning and cultural development to continue at a subdued rate. Scientists and researchers who tried to investigate 'classified subjects', such as where the Kings and Queens had come from, were imprisoned or killed. Knowledge that had previously been common fell to the wayside and was lost."

Edge glanced down at Foster's hand, which was impatiently drumming out a tune on his leg, and raised his eyebrows. Foster stopped abruptly and crossed his arms.

"Which brings us to the present," Edge continued. "A week ago, your father asked me if I would be interested in, shall we say, 'liberating' some books from the Archives. I, of course, accepted."

Foster's mouth gaped open in amazement. "But… how?" he asked. "The only place that has more guards than the Archives is the Dark Master's palace itself! It's practically airtight!"

"That's what you're supposed to think," Edge corrected. "In reality, the building wasn't that hard to get into."

"So, how'd you pull it off?" Foster wondered aloud.

"The story's not nearly as exciting as you might think. I just told the guards what they wanted to hear: that I had orders from the Dark Master himself, and anyone that stopped me would answer directly to him. I walked into the library, grabbed books related to the topics your father was interested in, and walked out. Simple as that."

"That's it?" Foster asked incredulously.

Edge nodded. "You can bluff your way into any place, if you put a little thought into it. Remember that. The mind is the most versatile tool a warrior has. Use it to avoid physical violence, when possible."

Foster was silent for a respectful period of time before asking, "So, what were the books about?"

"I was just getting to that," Edge replied. "A good portion of them related to placeshifting, which is the term for the way in which the Kings and Queens got from their world to ours and back again."

Foster groaned. "This is going to be complicated, isn't it?"

Edge responded with a shrug.

"A little bit," he agreed. "But try to stay with me. There aren't many people who know this." He adjusted his position on the sofa before continuing.

"Basically, the universe is made up of two types of planets: homeworlds and subworlds. Each homeworld has at least one subworld connected to it, often more. The subworlds often share physical and cultural characteristics with their homeworld, though not as a rule. For example, Terabithia is a subworld of Earth, and shares geography and language, among other things. Still with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. Here's where it gets a little more complex. When a resident of a homeworld, such as a human, placeshifts to a subworld, they're not bound by any of the laws of physics. Scientists have yet to figure out why this happens, but at least it explains the god-like powers of the Kings and Queens.

"However, when a resident of a subworld placeshifts to their homeworld, they don't gain these powers. The only possible exception to this rule that we've seen so far is you. To put it bluntly, you're clearly a human, but you don't exhibit any powers here in Terabithia. At least, not to my knowledge."

Foster shook his head. "Nope," he confirmed.

"There's a small possibility that it may work in reverse; that you would gain powers on Earth. I can't say for sure, though. This seems to be an unprecedented incident, since none of the books say anything about it."

Edge placed his hands behind his head and continued his lecture. "At any rate, that's not our prime concern right now. What I want to focus on is teaching you how to placeshift. Now, humans are able to do it instinctually, and from what I've read, it seems that their world hasn't even discovered the concept yet.

"There's a disturbing consequence to this. A while ago, a few scientists charted the age at which various humans have come to and left Terabithia. They found that not only was the average age of human placeshifters rapidly decreasing, but also that the length of time between individual visitors was increasing just as quickly." He shook his head sadly. "It got to the point where any visitor from Earth would be crowned, regardless of whether or not they were properly qualified. In my opinion, this was a key factor in—"

Edge smacked himself on the forehead. "Sorry, got off-topic," he apologized. "You've become a bad influence on me!"

They shared a laugh, eager to escape the grim subject matter.

"Anyway, where were we?"

Edge's eyes unfocused slightly as he mentally backtracked.

"Ah yes. Placeshifting. From the books I read, I discovered that it's essentially just a deeper form of imagination."

"Imagination?" Foster asked skeptically. He was expecting something a little more complicated. Imagination just seemed so… ordinary.

"Right you are!" Edge replied. "Rather than trying to actively imagine something, you just open your mind and let it show you what's already there. It's helpful to close your eyes during this part, as it's very easy for visual input to break your focus. Once you've accumulated enough details about the other world, let it surround you, flow through you. When you open your eyes, you'll undoubtedly find yourself in an entirely different world."

"Wow," Foster whispered, almost involuntarily.

Edge chuckled with amusement at Foster's reaction. "Want to give it a shot?"

Foster stroked his chin thoughtfully. "There's no chance of something going wrong, is there?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"That's what I was afraid of," Foster muttered under his breath.

After a few seconds, caution gave way to curiosity. "All right, I'll try it," he said.

"Great!" Edge exclaimed. "Just remember, keep your mind open and let Earth come to you."

Foster nodded quickly. "Got it. I'm gonna…uh…go now."

Edge gestured broadly. "Have at it!" he said with a smile.

"This is it," Foster thought to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, perhaps a bit too tightly. As he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next, he came to the conclusion that he was probably too tense.

Foster forced himself to relax, both mentally and physically, and as he did so he felt… something… tingling inside his mind. Realizing he was nearing his goal, he followed Edge's instructions and opened his mind as best he could.

Foster felt the peculiar tingling sensation spreading downwards through his entire body and soul, first slowly, then more quickly. Brief images flashed through his mind: trees, a forest, a river. The images began to sharpen and combine into a much larger and more defined vista, and Foster felt the buzzing begin to fade from his limbs.

Worried that he had done something wrong, he tried to grab hold of it and pull it back, but it slipped away from him like water through his fingers. He opened his eyes, intending to tell Edge of his failure.

But Edge wasn't there anymore. In fact, nothing was there at all.

Foster's jaw dropped open out of sheer amazement as he slowly examined his surroundings. He blinked twice and rubbed his eyes, still not believing what he saw before him.

It was the exact same scene that had come to him in his mind. Sunlight filtered through the brilliant green leaves of the oak trees to bright light and warmth to the forest. The wind picked up slightly, and Foster heard the rustle of leaves mix with the quiet sound of rushing water.

The peacefulness that had washed over him was replaced with fear when he realized that he had no idea how to get back to Terabithia. Foster had no desire to end up marooned in a strange world, paradise or not.

He forced himself to relax and closed his eyes. As he opened his mind and felt the tingling sensation once more, he concentrated on images of Edge's living room.

"Ah, you're back."

Foster opened his eyes to see Edge staring at him.

"Yeah," he replied, still a bit taken aback at what had just happened.

"In case you're wondering, it gets quicker and easier with practice. As I mentioned before, humans possess the ability to placeshift from birth, so the transition from one world to the next is nearly seamless for them. However, when they first start out, they sometimes have problems retaining their focus, and drift back and forth between worlds."

Foster nodded, then said, "I have a question."

"With any luck, I'll have an answer."

"Why don't we just teach The Flame and the rest of Terabithia to placeshift, and then move to Earth?"

Edge hesitated briefly before answering.

"There are a couple of different reasons. One of them is that only in rare circumstances are adults able to placeshift. That's why I didn't go along with you on your little expedition; it's not because I didn't want to, I just… don't have it in me."

Foster thought he heard a note of sadness in Edge's voice, but it was gone before he could be sure.

"However, that's not the only reason," Edge continued. "Even if we were able to move the Terabithians to Earth, who knows how the humans would react to an alien race seemingly invading their world. Oh, I almost forgot…"

Edge snapped his fingers.

"When I say 'humans', I mean 'residents of Earth', not necessarily you. As I mentioned before, the regular rules don't seem to apply to you.

"There's one more reason," Edge went on. "As far as we know, the Dark Master is content being the sole ruler of Terabithia, wiping out opposition as it comes to his attention. If the Terabithians left for Earth, it's very likely that he would make every attempt to follow them. That would certainly prove to be disastrous if he was successful. We could not in good conscience bring such a great evil on the humans."

Foster covered his mouth to stifle a huge yawn.

Edge eyed him critically, then stood up.

"You'd better get home. We can go over this more tomorrow."

Foster nodded in agreement, then stood up and followed Edge to the door. As he was reaching for the door handle, something occurred to him, and he stopped.

"Hey, Edge?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for remembering my birthday."

Edge smiled. "No problem, kid. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Foster didn't entirely understand what Edge meant by that last sentence, but he decided against asking about it. He pulled open the door, walked through it and closed it behind him without looking back.

- - - - - - - - - - -

As he walked home, Foster couldn't help but notice that Terabithia looked a lot like a civilized version of the forest he had set foot in on Earth. Even so, he had to admit that the forest was much more serene. He couldn't wait to try placeshifting again.

As Foster neared his house, he noticed that the shadows were growing longer. He was hit with a sudden pang of hunger, and found the front door to be a welcome sight. Foster flung it open and hurried inside.

He didn't even bother to call for his father; Foster knew that he wouldn't be home until late at night. He went into the kitchen and made himself a light supper, consisting of a ham sandwich and some leftover salad with a glass of water.

After grabbing a fork, Foster sat down at the table to eat. He had nothing in particular on his mind, and enjoyed the respite after the long day.

Polishing off the last bite of sandwich, Foster stood up and took his dishes over to the sink. He didn't really have anything else to do, so he washed them and put them back into the cupboard. "Now what?" he asked to no one in particular.

Finding that no answer was immediately forthcoming, Foster decided to go to bed early in order to speed the coming of the next day. As he made his way through the darkened living room, he felt a frigid gust of wind hit the back of his neck. Foster stopped abruptly.

"Wait," he thought to himself. "Why isn't it—"

An ice-cold hand gripped his shoulder.

Startled, Foster swatted the hand away and spun around to find himself staring up into the hooded visage of the Dark Master. Foster's eyes widened in terror, but Edge's training was already kicking in. Taking a quick glance at his surroundings, he noticed that if he could get around the Dark Master, he'd have a clear path to the front door.

The Dark Master raised his left hand and snapped his fingers, still not taking his eyes off of Foster. Two figures materialized from the shadows, dragging a third between them. Foster let out an involuntary gasp as he recognized his father, bound and gagged. He was struggling violently against his captors.

The Dark Master laughed mockingly at Foster's reaction and spoke for the first time. "You didn't think you could hide forever, did you?"

"I—I—uh—well," Foster stuttered.

"Now," The Dark Master said, ignoring him. "Under normal circumstances, I would just drag you two off to prison to rot with the rest of your pestilent friends. However, the variables surrounding you and your father must be accounted for. Therefore, I'm willing to make you a deal."

"DON'T LISTEN! RUN!" Foster's father had managed to work loose his gag.

"Silence him!" The Dark Master commanded.

"With pleasure," his minions replied, pulling heavy-looking truncheons from their belts and beating Foster's father brutally over the head.

He went limp and slumped to the ground, unmoving.

"NOOO!" Foster howled. "How could you—"

"It was quite easy, actually," The Dark Master said, interrupting him. "Now, here is my deal. You tell me where the stolen books are, and I'll let you go. Simple enough, isn't it?"

Foster had already made up his mind to run. He paced to the side, hands on his head, apparently in deep thought. As soon as he was around the Dark Master, he broke into a full sprint for the front door.

The Dark Master shook his head.

"Fool," he murmured, before raising his voice. "After him!"

The guards that were with him saluted before taking off in pursuit.

Foster was halfway through the kitchen when the front door burst open. A pair of Squogres ran in, chittering menacingly. Foster didn't break stride. He used the one in front as a springboard to vault over the other and out the door.

Breathing hard, Foster ran to the left, towards Edge's house.

"No," he thought. "I can't lead them there, that's what they want… but if not there… then where?" He racked his brains, still running. Glancing behind him, he saw about twenty of the Dark Master's soldiers gaining on him.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind. Following it wouldn't have been his first choice, but unfortunately, it was the only choice he could think of. Foster closed his eyes and pictured himself running through the forest on Earth.

"You cannot escape me! I am far more—"

The Dark Master's voice faded away, as if he was standing at the other end of a long tunnel.

Foster opened his eyes and found that he was in the forest. He stopped running and flopped down against a tree, trying to catch his breath. Looking around at his surroundings, he saw that they had not changed much, if at all, from last time.

As night fell on the calm forest, reality began to set in. He was in a strange forest, in a strange world. He couldn't go back to Terabithia.

He had left his father…

Tears welled in his eyes at the last thought, but he pushed them back as quickly as they had come. He needed to concentrate on surviving, for the time being.

Foster began to gather sticks to build a shelter, but fatigue set in almost as soon as he began to move. Exhausted, he lay down on the ground. The forest floor was surprisingly comfortable, and his eyes closed almost of their own accord.

Too tired to even think straight, he soon fell into a deep, restful sleep.