Author's note: I decided to branch out a smidgen and try something different. This is what I came up with, so I hope it's alright. And as a sidenote, I will not completely abandon the Peter/Edmund brother fics. I love writing about them too much to do that. Also, if you got a million notifications about the posting of this story, I'm sorry. I had to repost it several times because I kept finding mistakes. The spellchecker on my computer is really bad.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

To And From The Shadowland

Peter was sitting in the living room in front of the fire staring into it with a faraway expression. He would have been in his brother's bedroom if it hadn't been for his mother's firm insistence that Edmund needed absolute quiet. Edmund had caught a virus that week and had gone from bad to worse within a day. She'd banished himself and Lucy, who had been hovering anxiously around his bed, downstairs.

This was unfortunate for Peter. The last glimpse he'd managed to catch of Edmund before his mother had shoved him bodily from the room was not pleasant. Edmund's young face was paler than the sheets he lay in, his dark hair and the freckles across the bridge of his nose stood out in stark contrast. His breathing was shallow and his forehead was shiny with sweat. Peter shuddered. The image was all too familiar.

An unbidden scene flashed into his mind. Edmund lying on the ground, colorless, breathing fast, crimson pouring from his side.

"Peter?"

Peter jumped slightly and turned to Lucy. It was strange to look at her now. Instead of the exceedingly graceful adult she had been, Lucy was once more the short-haired eight-year-old she'd been fourteen years ago. To everyone else she was a very queer little girl indeed. Peter decided that if he hadn't been to Narnia it probably would be strange to talk to somebody who looked to be eight but was in mind and spirit a twenty-two year old.

"Yes?"

"He looks so awful." whispered Lucy, "Does it scare you the way it's scaring me?"

Peter nodded, his throat tight. He sat down next to his youngest sister and instinctively put an arm around her.

"So it reminds you of it too?" he asked.

"Yes," said Lucy, gratefully leaning into his chest. "Yes it does."

"Try not to think about it, Lu."

"But he's just so pale and unresponsive," Lucy sighed.

"I don't think we should worry too much," said Peter. "He's gotten really sick before we went to Narnia. He always gets better, cordial or no."

Lucy smiled lightly, using an eight-year-old sized arm to tuck a short strand of hair behind her ear. "I suppose so."

Peter sighed. They were all worried. Well, mostly. Peter chanced a look at Susan. She didn't seem to be too concerned. Yes, she did voice a little bit of it, but she seemed to just take for granted that Edmund would get better. It hurt to see her these days. She had changed so much in only a year.

In Narnia Susan was happy to trek through the gardens or forests, she didn't have any make-up, and she enjoyed spending time with her siblings. Nowadays she was mostly concerned with her public status. She hadn't spent a single night at home since their return from the Professor's. She also wore make-up. And while the make-up was light and neat, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy heavily disapproved. She had been prettier in Narnia when her natural beauty shined through the smile that constantly graced her face. Susan hardly ever smiled authentically anymore.

Peter frowned as he watched her. She was quietly reading a book, but she twisted a perfect curl around her finger as she did so. Peter looked away. He knew very well that she cared about her family. He knew she cared about Edmund's current condition. But to anybody outside of the family it would seem as if she didn't. She still occasionally coddled and fussed over them, but she was never home to do it anyway.

"Peter?" their mother's voice carried down the stairs.

Peter gently extracted himself from beneath Lucy and leapt from his seat, hurrying to the base of the stairs. "Yes, Mum?"

"Could you and Susan go to the market and get some more of that medicine? I have a feeling Edmund is going to need it."

"Is he alright?" Peter asked instantly, heart leaping into his throat.

Mrs. Pevensie smiled tiredly at her oldest son, "Yes, he's going to be fine. But we're running low on medicine and we will need it by tonight."

"I'll get it." Peter agreed, reaching for his coat.

"Thank you." Mrs. Pevensie disappeared back to Edmund's room.

Peter turned to his sister, "Susan, let's go."

Susan paused to finish a line in her book and then looked up at him, a slight frown on her carefully made-up features. "Peter, you're fourteen. You can very well go to the market by yourself."

"Mum told you to come with me." Peter pointed out, holding her coat up.

Susan glanced at the clock and hurried to slip into the proffered jacket. "We'll have to make it quick then," she said shortly, "I have a party to go to at five."

Peter restrained the indignant look that threatened to show and opened the door for her.

"Bye, Lucy," he said.

"Goodbye, Peter." said Lucy. And Peter noticed that she glanced at Susan with a sorrowful, slightly injured expression when she didn't pause to say goodbye.

The market was half a mile away. Peter and Susan, normally, would have talked amiably for the whole way. But this time the two oldest Pevensies were silent. Peter was trying very hard not to feel angry with his sister for being so concerned about her own status when Edmund was sick. He felt she ought to be staying home.

"Peter, do you think we could stop by the cosmetic shop?" Susan asked suddenly, "I'm running out of powder."

Peter sighed and looked ahead. He wondered where his sister had gone. "Susan, do you honestly believe that powder makes you prettier?"

"Don't you think so?" asked Susan, sounding surprised.

"No. I don't think so. You are prettier without it." said Peter firmly. "I don't understand why you started wearing it in the first place."

"I am of age," said Susan, sounding hurt. "I don't see why you object to it so much."

"You never wanted to wear anything like that in Narnia," said Peter darkly.

Susan gave him a pleading look, "Peter, don't tell me you still believe in all that? You're fourteen. You shouldn't be living in the games we played when we were little."

"You know very well that it isn't a game." replied Peter.

"Then what is it?"

"Reality," said Peter, "We completed the prophecy, we sat on the thrones in Cair Paravel, and we ended the reign of the White Witch in an enormous battle. I doubt even Lucy's imagination could have come up with that on it's own."

"We all made it up together. We were just pretending." Susan insisted.

"So where did Edmund get that huge scar in his middle?" asked Peter, trying to ignore how very thick his voice sounded.

He had never forgiven himself for allowing that to happen.

"That was an accident," said Susan, "It must have happened when we were playing in the woods."

"He saved me from the Witch and nearly got himself killed doing so," said Peter quietly, "Or if you don't recall Edmund lying on the ground dying. His blood pouring out all over the place, his face whiter than paper, his breath coming in hitches..."

Peter faltered, a lump forming in his throat that he couldn't speak past. The memory was all to clear in his mind. The memory of his failure to protect his brother. He cleared his throat and spoke again, a little hoarsely.

"Don't tell me that was play as well."

Susan shook her head, "We imagined it."

Peter stopped walking and finally looked at his sister, "Susan, why does Lucy seem so much older than she is?"

Susan shrugged helplessly, "She's always been that way."

"And Edmund?" asked Peter, "He used to push everybody away. He hated me like nothing else. Why does he turn to me for comfort now? And since when has he ever been fair about something that weighs heavily in his favor?"

"I don't know, he just changed suddenly." said Susan, and if her voice seemed a little strained Peter didn't notice it.

"It was Narnia, Susan," said Peter, looking at her sadly. "Narnia changed Edmund. It was fourteen years of reigning at Cair Paravel. It was fourteen years of alternate battle of peace. It was fourteen years of being King Edmund the Just. Don't you see it? Fourteen years of living, Susan, how can you forget it in just one?"

Susan looked away abruptly, her whole body stiffening.

"Susan?"

"Peter, don't," Susan pleaded, sounding choked. "Please don't."

"You are a queen of Narnia, Su." Peter whispered, "Why don't you believe?"

"Please stop it, Peter," Susan cried, looking fixedly ahead, tears beginning to fall from her groomed lashes. "I can't do it. I can't believe."

"Why not?"

Susan shook her head, "I don't know."

"Why not, Susan?" prompted Peter gently.

Susan didn't answer right away. She looked at the ground, allowing the tears to fall like rain from her face. Peter hated it when his siblings cried. It made him feel so helpless, as if he could have done something to prevent it. But he put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Something he hadn't done since they tumbled out of the wardrobe.

"It can't because it hurts," whispered Susan finally. "It hurts to know that I'm not allowed to go back. there's nothing here on earth that could even compare to Narnia. Nothing. Every day I wake up to the knowledge that I will never return to a place so perfect. So beautiful. That's why I can't believe it's real."

Peter brushed a tear from her face, "It hurts me more than you could imagine, Susan. But that doesn't stop me from believing it's a real place. We did reign at Cair Paravel for fourteen years. We did fight in battles..." he shook her shoulders gently, "We saw Aslan, Su. He's as real as it gets. Don't you remember the way his mane felt? The sound of his voice? the flood of joy you felt whenever you looked at him?"

Susan shuddered, "I do remember, Peter. I'll always remember. But I won't believe in him."

"Do you remember what he told us before we left?" asked Peter gently.

Susan shrugged noncommittally.

"He said that he was here in our world," said Peter. "He is here, but under a different name. We are to find him, Susan, and believe in him more fiercely than we ever did in Narnia."

"And have you found him yet?" asked Susan, her voice slightly hoarse.

Peter shook his head, "Not yet. But if we look together we might just be able to."

Susan sniffed and then looked up with a watery smile, "Thanks Peter.

"Anytime." Peter replied, "But it's best we get that medicine for Edmund."

Susan nodded and they started off down the road again. They were silent once again, but this time it was a companionable silence. A light drizzle began to fall, and though not as sweet and warm as Narnian rain, it was refreshing and pleasant. Peter noticed, with a glimmer of hope, that Susan didn't pull her hood up to shield her hair.

While they were walking home, Susan seemed to be lost in a memory. Her blue eyes gazed thoughtfully ahead and past the tree-lined path. Presently, she wondered aloud.

"Do you suppose Aslan intended for me to doubt?"

Peter thought for a moment.

"Maybe he did, I can't say for sure," he said reasonably, "But does anybody really know why Aslan allows things to happen?"

"I suppose not." Susan replied slowly, "Where do you think we'll find him?"

"I was just thinking about that," said Peter. "Perhaps we had better start at Church on Sunday. If Aslan is so powerful, so just, and so pure, then why couldn't he be God?"

He and Susan, and undoubtedly Edmund and Lucy, had never truly paid any attention during Church. They understood that it was good to go, and that you should, but they didn't really understand why. The words of the man in the pulpit never penetrated their fanciful thoughts in all their years of attending. Maybe if they listened they would see. And maybe, just maybe, they would find Aslan.

Susan raised an eyebrow at his statement, "That's pretty logical, Peter. Perhaps I really have been away too much."

Peter looked away, "Susan, you have no idea how long you've been gone."

Susan had no reply to this and turned her gaze back to the road. She wasn't entirely sure why she was so concerned with status and parties and appearances. All she knew was that there was a vast empty space inside of her that didn't seem to fill. When she was at the parties she could almost forget Narnia. It helped her to remove the pain, if only for a little while.

To be honest, she hadn't thought her siblings would miss her too terribly much. How wrong it seemed she'd been. Peter seemed quite content at the moment, almost pleased, to walk beside her saying nothing. They hadn't done that since spring at Cair Paravel. Susan remembered with fondness the quiet walks she'd had with her brother on the beach in Narnia. Sometimes, when she'd felt a little overwhelmed about her duties as Queen, she would fetch Peter and they would go on a walk. Most of the time they never said anything. She realized that he must have missed those just as much as she did.

Lucy, nowadays, seemed to wander into her room at odd times merely because she was 'bored'. Susan used to play with Lucy a lot in Narnia. They would make flower chains in the gardens and crown each other, or they would go swimming in the ocean. She realized that as soon as she had come out of the wardrobe, she had abandoned such practices. Dear Lucy, she probably felt very hurt, if not a little confused, at the moment.

Susan thought on Edmund. The dark-haired boy was much more mature than he'd ever been. In Cair Paravel, she used to tease him a lot in play and he'd take it in stride, playfully teasing her back at times. They would even banter back and forth occasionally, each striving to get a better comeback than the other. That was until Peter and Lucy got fed up with the noise and told them to stop. This had all changed when they got back. Susan hardly even talked to Edmund anymore. He, being a much graver little person than he'd been before, sometimes just looked at her. In the depths of his dark eyes she could see the hurt and reproach he felt. But he never said anything.

"I've lost myself, Peter," said Susan presently as they went around a bend in the road.

Peter, his hair completely plastered to his forehead, peered past the streams of water that poured off of it. "And we've lost you, Susan. Where did you go?"

Susan shrugged, "I haven't any idea. Tell me who I am."

"You are Susan Pevensie, formerly of Finchely; Queen and protector of Narnia." Peter smiled and chuckled a bit. "Aslan said something similar to me when I told him the same thing."

"I guess we all lose ourselves sometime or another," said Susan.

"But we must find ourselves in the end," finished Peter, "I am Peter Pevensie, oldest of four children; but I am also King Peter, one of the four rulers in Narnia. Both of them keep me where I'm supposed to be. They keep me from falling out of reality."

Susan nodded and all was silent once more. The path was muddy, and Susan's shoes were quite dirty but she didn't seem to notice so much. She had realized just how much she missed the close relationship she'd had with her siblings. They were always there, willing to talk, laugh, or cry with her. Even if she had been a selfish prig they were always ready to be with her. Nobody could replace that.

The paper bag the medicine was in had practically melted and Peter now carried the bottle in his palm, grasping it around the neck. As they came into view of their home Susan's step faltered. Peter went on a few paces before he halted and turned back to her.

"Come on, Su." he said, motioning forward with his head, "We can visit Edmund if he's awake. That is if Mum will let us into his room."

Susan laughed gently and looked at him, a tiny smile playing around her lips. The fine rain had soaked her hair through and had washed all of her make-up away. Yet through a simple smile the tender and beautiful Queen Susan of Narnia had returned.

"I supposed I'll be staying home tonight." she said softly.

Utter joy and relief flooded into the very core of the brother she had unknowingly cut so deeply. Peter slowly, as if hardly daring to believe, walked back to her. Then he pulled her into a fierce hug. His face tipped toward the sky in silent unfathomable gratitude. A single tear slipped down his face and yet it was lost in the rain.

"I'm glad you're back." he whispered.

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Note: I'd love to know what everybody thought of this one.