Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you is a thing that I do not own. Those things belong to C.S. Lewis.
Six months later…
The house had not really been lived in for months, but that was going to change.
Peter had spent the last six months at funerals, working, visiting Edmund at the hospital, and doing all manner of things to avoid having to be alone in this house. He considered asking to stay with Susan at one point, but Susan had her own life and Susan had a boyfriend who liked to come over to comfort her, even if Susan was not in the mood. He wasn't sure if she would like his presence.
They pulled up to the house and Peter glanced sideways at his brother, who was silent. They hadn't talked much in the past few months, both preferring to deal with their grief as they would. Peter had tried to have 'closure', as they called it, during the funerals, but it was hard. His parents' and Lucy's, held at the same time, were the worst.
The sun was brilliantly shining and Peter wanted to tell it to stop. This was no time for a nice day—this was a funeral. It was his family's funeral. In a way, he felt like this was also his funeral.
Holes in the earth…where his family would be buried. They were all next to each other, in a line—Lucy, his mother, and his father. Susan was standing next to him, stiff and pale and unable to wrench her eyes from the newly dug gravesites. It was horrible to watch and Peter felt sick as he saw the caskets lowered and the dirt shovelled back over them. And suddenly everyone was gone, having left without Peter or Susan's notice.
"Do you think…they're in Aslan's country?" Peter ventured. He wanted to know that, at the very least, they were safe.
Susan's response came in the form of a small sob. Peter turned to her, but she turned and began to walk swiftly away. Peter again faced the new graves.
There were three roses in his hands, the stems a bit mangled from how tightly he had been clasping them. He walked slowly to each grave and delicately placed a rose over the dirt covering the caskets. He paused for a bit over Lucy's.
"I hope you're with Him," he murmured.
There was no answer, and he half didn't expect one. He was left with no other choice but to walk away, empty handed.
Peter and Edmund exited the car. Edmund, after spending six months in the hospital, still had difficulty moving about. It was a bit painful for him to walk, so they had given him a cane. ("I suppose I'm old now," he had said upon receiving it.) His doctors said that he might not need the cane in time, but he would always have a limp.
Slowly, they made their way to the front door. Though neither would say it, both brothers wished they didn't have to go in. There were too many memories, and they threatened to break any progress made so far.
Still, Peter turned the key and opened the door and they ended up inside a moment later. Edmund had a bag slung over his shoulder of clothes and books and various things brought to the hospital in the months he was there.
Peter watched his younger brother move towards the stairs and wished he could know what Edmund was thinking. They hadn't talked much in the past months. At first, Edmund had been confused upon waking, and the doctors said that he had been injured in the head and it was likely he would be confused. He still seemed a bit out of sorts, but Peter thought it had more to do with the actual accident than anything else.
It had been particularly hard to tell Edmund that his family was dead, and Peter and Susan waited a few days after he'd woken up. He had missed the funerals, having been unconscious until the week after (not to mention the months after he awoke spent in the hospital), and he hadn't known. Actually, he didn't remember the accident or the entire week beforehand. What spurred Peter and Susan to tell him was when he began to ask where Lucy and his parents were.
"What?"
Peter fought the urge to run from the room. Instead he faced his brother, who was staring back at him looking pale and shocked.
Susan shook her head. "We shouldn't have told him," she said. "He can't even sit up and we've told him this horrible thing…"
"They're dead?" Edmund cried, eyes moving from Peter to Susan and back, trying to find any hint of a lie that he wished was there.
"Yes," Peter said. It had been the hardest thing in the world to tell Edmund the first time. He didn't want to have to do it again.
"Why?" Edmund asked, his voice breaking.
"It was a bad accident," Susan started.
"No!" Edmund snapped. "I know that. But—it isn't fair. Why am I alive and why are they not?"
Susan shook her head. Peter put a hand on Edmund's arm. Edmund was shaking.
"And," he continued, his voice become more and more unsteady, "I missed their funeral. I didn't have the chance to say goodbye…I-" Unable to stand it, Peter enveloped Edmund in a fierce hug. He felt Susan's arms wrap around his as they both tried to comfort their younger brother.
Edmund suddenly began to sob. Peter had tears running down his own face and Susan was crying. It was scary—they all had been relatively good at keeping their emotions in check. But this, this was too much. This was the sound of their hearts breaking.
It wasn't known how long they stayed that way. Peter could hardly remember anything after. He only remembered wishing it didn't have to be this way.
An hour later, Peter decided to check on his brother, who had retreated to their old room. Now, Peter was the owner of the house, and it had been suggested to him that he sell it. He didn't want to, and he felt that it would be the place where his siblings could come if they needed to. There was, after all, more than enough room.
Edmund was sitting on his bed, staring out the window. Peter sat down next to him. He saw the sadness within his younger brother's eyes and put a gentle hand on Edmund's shoulder.
"At least they're with Aslan now," Peter said. He felt relieved to say it, because he hadn't been able to mention it out of courtesy to Susan while Edmund was in the hospital. And he hadn't had the chance to talk about this with his brother. "Do you suppose…it's anything like Narnia?" He glanced sideways.
Edmund looked confused. "Narnia?" he repeated, and the word sounded more foreign than it ought to have coming from him.
"Yes," Peter said, frowning. "Narnia…and Aslan. Were you listening?"
"Of course I was," Edmund said. He looked up at Peter and there was a blank look in his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie," Peter said before he could stop himself.
Suddenly his younger brother looked angry. "I'm not lying," he snapped. "Why are you talking about something I don't even know about?"
Peter felt a horrible fear seize his heart. "I don't know," he said, his voice sounding a bit odd. "I…I'll go fix dinner." He left the room as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. As he closed the door behind him one thought nearly made him fall to the floor in shock and despair. It was the last thing he ever wanted to happen.
Edmund doesn't remember Narnia.
