Not That Far Away

Prompt: Destiny (No Place That Far)

But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes!

~As You Like It

Looking back on it, Digory realized, everything had happened so fast that, had he not experienced all of it for himself, he wouldn't have believed it. He would've allowed his brain to convince himself that it was all luck, or that things really hadn't been as bad as they had seemed. His mother's illness was one of those that simply got worse before it got better; Uncle Andrew had just been overly concerned for her well-being. The rings that had bounced him back and forth between worlds were…figments of his imagination.

But then, how did that explain the change in him? The deep longing he felt for that newborn country. Narnia. The great Lion who brought it to life with His song, and entrusted him with a mission to bring forth a Tree of Protection to defend it against the evil Witch who had entered with him. The Lion whose blessing allowed him to bring back an apple that would save his mother's life. And that place.

When Narnia was sung to life, Digory felt that hewas being sung to life, too. That something was being awoken in him that had been sleeping for far too long. Polly felt it, too, he knew. She had taken back her previous declaration of London not being a nasty Hole, and had insisted that no place on earth would ever compare with where they had recently been. Despite this being what he had thought all along, Digory could only agree with her quietly. The desire to gloat had left him, and was replaced by a feeling of emptiness.

It was a feeling that was only slightly relieved when he and Polly would sit out in his garden by the apple tree they had planted there. Sometimes they didn't say anything; sometimes there weren't any words that really needed to pass between them. Today, though, was different. It was a lovely sunny day, or as lovely as sunny days seemed to get in London, but Digory couldn't really enjoy any of it. It all just felt so…false to him. All these people bustling about their lives; so content with what they had, but with absolutely no concept of what they were missing out on. Even Polly seemed like that today. She was sitting next to him with a notepad and pencil on her lap, eating one of the apples that hung tantalizingly above their heads. They weren't magical like the one Digory had brought back only a year before, but they were by far the best apples to be found anywhere in England, or the entire world, as far as Digory was concerned.

Staring up at the fruit that dangled a few inched above his head, Digory felt something stir within him. That deep longing to go back. To experience Narnia again, but this time under far less dire circumstances. His mother was healthy again; Uncle Andrew was…not normal, but within tolerable regions of behavior. Why couldn't they go to Narnia now?

"Do you think we'll ever get back," he asked wistfully. Polly paused, mid-bite.

"What?"

"To Narnia," Digory explained, shifting his body so he could face her. "Do you think we'll ever get back?" Her expression was difficult to read, so he quickly tried to enhance his inquiry.

"I mean, we were only there for a few days, but that was almost a year ago. And Mother was so sick then that I couldn't really think of anything else at the time, but now that we're back in England, and have been for a while, everything just feels so…empty and lifeless in comparison, that I just wish I had taken it in more or something. I don't know! Forget I ever said anything."

Polly set her paper down in the grass beside her. "Well, of course we'll get back, Digs. Why wouldn't we?" He looked up, slightly startled. She shook her head, sending her blonde waves tumbling about her face. "Don't you think Aslan might've told us if we were never to go back?"

"We never asked," Digory felt compelled to point out. Polly almost didn't have a response for that.

"True, but I still think we'll get back in. It seems such a pity to bring two young Britons into a country for its inception, only to never have them see it again, don't you think?" He shrugged, still not completely convinced.

"But what if we can't get back in, Poll? What if you can only get in once?" Polly smirked.

"If Aslan fully intends for something to happen, I highly doubt the word 'can't' is enough to stop him from making it so." Digory slumped back against the tree, slightly comforted.

"I just really miss it," he said softly, aimlessly reaching for one of the apples that was just out of his reach.

"I know. I do, too. So much that it hurts, really." Digory twitched his right eye in her direction.

"You never let it on. How do you deal with it?" She pursed her lips for a second before picking her notebook back up again.

"You remember that story I never let you see up in the attic?"

"Yeah." She tossed the pad lightly onto his chest.

"I quit working on that one. I thought of a better one." Reluctantly, Digory flipped open to the first page.

"'Chapter One, The Wrong Door' What—"

"Keep going," she said with an impatient gesture of her hand.

"'This is a story about something that happened a long time ago when your grandfather was a child. It is a very important story because it shows how all the comings and goings between our own world and the land of Narnia first began…?' You're writing it all down?" He sounded incredulous.

Polly nodded, with a hint of a smile on her pretty face. "I don't want to forget it, Digs. Having memories of a place you've only been to once is better than to never been there at all, sometimes." Their eyes locked for a second, and in that instant, she knew he completely understood what she was saying. A slow smile started creeping over his face.

"D'you think it's long enough to tide us over until Aslan brings us back for real?" Polly shrugged.

"It isn't finished. Doesn't even have a title, yet. I've never been good with titles." Digory took his turn to shrug, almost thoroughly engrossed in the story already.

"I never cared much about the titles of books, anyway. It's the story that's really important. And besides, it's not like anyone else is ever going to read this."

Little did he know, someone would read it. Almost half a century later, when a war brought on by a single man would send hundreds of children into hiding in the countryside. A little girl with copper-colored hair would be exploring a library in a big, old house, and would come across a stack of loose-leaf papers, covered with the small, spidery handwriting of another little girl. She would be delighted by the story she found, and in her excitement, she would run to the owner of the papers and inquire as to why they had neither a binding, nor a title.

He would turn them over carefully in his hands, and say that it still hadn't been finished, even though it had been started almost fifty years before. And when the little girl would leave his study slightly confused, and thoroughly intrigued, he would sit down at his desk, pick up his pen, and write two final pages to the otherwise completed manuscript. After a moment's pause, he would sign with a flourish, The Magician's Nephew.

And for the first time in almost fifty years, Digory Kirke would get a taste of the land that had brought him so completely to life when he was a child.

Fin

A/N: Okay, I'll just start off by saying that this wasn't what I initially had in mind for Destiny. It was originally going to be either a long oneshot, or seven short chapters, each from the perspective of a character in one of the books, and how they continued to feel close to Narnia, even when they weren't physically there. (Hence, the Sara Evans song in the prompt.) Maybe I'll do that for another story, but I like this one where it is. I hope you do, as well!

~Melpomene