When the Scales Fall
Summary: As Eustace comes back to England and has to adjust, he knows that Aslan is with him always. One-shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, Eustace, or any other characters or names of recognizable people or places.
Chapter One
When the Scales Fall
--
Immediately, something like scales fell from Saul's eyes, and he could see again. He got up and was baptized.
-Acts 9:18 NIV bible-
--
Alberta Scrubb had never seen anything quite like it. Eustace, her one and only son, had just walked through the kitchen where she had been shifting through the mail, and had been conversing with his cousins voluntarily. What was even more surprising was the chorus of laughter that happened as the three of them walked back out of the kitchen.
This was the second day this type of thing had gone on, and she was rather curious about the game her son was playing. Here he was, suddenly associating and even enjoying the company of his cousin's-her sister's children! They were stuck twenty years behind and there was something not quite right with the youngest two, Lucy and Edmund, anyway. They always talked together in whispers and would get a far-off, glazed look in their eyes whenever certain objects or creatures were mentioned or shown. Alberta gave those strange habits credit due to their improper upbringing.
In all her years, she never would have thought Eustace would have fallen captive to their fake charms and self-righteous kindness.
This..this boy who was living under her roof...he was not her son.
---
Eustace Scrubb sat on his small, sterile bed and gazed at the small picture he had hidden under his pillow.
It was a rather odd thing for him to do, really. Eustace was the sensible sort- he liked science, math, and logic. He was not easily given to whims or fancies. This, however was different.
The picture was a small painting of a lion. Lucy, his cousin, had given it to him the afternoon before, just a few hours before Lucy and Edmund boarded a train to return home. It had obviously done in a hurry, without the proper paints or paper, but it was one of the most beautiful things Eustace had ever laid eyes on.
Eustace marveled at how well his youngest cousin understood him. Lucy would know that for him, this picture was a symbol of hope and preservance. For as Lucy and Edmund left, everything in his life would start to become the same as it had been the year before, and this would be the real test. The test to see if he could keep the faith he had learned in Narnia...and through Aslan.
Aslan. That was why Eustace, the sensible, emotionally detached, boy was keeping any type of picture under his pillows. That was why Eustace had any hope at all.
And that was why Eustace would face anything thrown his way with courage. And as he heard the call he had been dreading drifting upstairs, the screech of his mother telling him to eat breakfast, he smiled. As he stood up, he gently folded the picture of Aslan too keep in his pocket.
---
The rain slammed into Eustace's body, so hard it was physically painful. He winced as the drops hit him, knowing it would be nothing next to the emotional lashing he was in for. To start with, he was dripping mud all over the his Alb-his mother's- white floor. Then, that morning he woke up with the audacity to actually decide to go to the local church a few blocks down the street. And the other day his father had caught him actually reading a bible.
Yes, Eustace was in for quite a bit of pain to his heart and mind.
Sure enough, as soon as he had crossed the threshold and stepped into the kitchen, Alberta started rattling on and on. This was about the third or fourth time now since his cousins had left, and he was getting rather good at blocking her out.
"It's those Pevensies' fault...with all their middle-aged ideas and beliefs. I can't believe you let them work on you like that, and so quickly too..." She was talking more to herself than to her son.
She turned her back to him. That was his cue he could leave the room, he was quickly learning. His room had never appealed to him as much as it had in the past week.
He would never show it, but his mother's words stabbed him in many places. Mainly because he knew that was how he use to be. No, wait, he had been much worse than that. He had been....terrible was the only word he could come up with, yet it didn't seem adequate enough.
Eustace choked back the tears. He had never cried this much in his entire life, and yet this past week was already the third time. He cried because of the rejection he brought upon himself from his parents. He cried because he missed the moral support the Pevensies gave him- they had become his only friends in the household. But mainly, he cried because he remembered his old self, and he hated the memories.
With a shaking hand, Eustace reached deep into his pocket and pulled out the folded painting of Aslan. It had gotten damp from the rain and the paper had soften. A small tear was already forming in the corner.
But Eustace didn't notice of these imperfections. All he saw was the eyes Lucy had given Aslan- beautiful, golden, eyes. Eyes that pierced him, even in such a scribbled painting.
With rickety breaths, Eustace stared and stared into those eyes. He didn't have to cry any more. Aslan had made his scales fall.
