Author's note: This one took me forever to be satisfied with! Whew! I'm glad you all liked the first chapter. ;) I hope I can keep it up!
TimeMage has courteously informed me that the reasoning wasn't clear pertaining to Peter's age, so I shall clarify. ahem Nineteen years equals four years in England added to fifteen years in Narnia. The fifteen comes pretty much from the book...I tried to figure out how long he stayed there. It wasn't clear, but I surmised about that much. Basically, Peter's true age is somewhere around twenty eight (Narnian time). I hope that clears things up:) Thanks TimeMage!
Thanks once again to my brilliant sister who read and reread this time and time again!Disclaimer: ...don't own them...don't sue...Heh...just go read the disclaimer in my profile.
A Battle Without Weapons, Chapter 2
"Peter and Edmund Pevensie, what on earth do you think you're doing?"
The surprised voice of their mother startled both boys from their short-lived dreams. Edmund jolted from Peter's arm and barely managed to catch himself before he flipped off the bed into an ungraceful (not to mention unkingly) heap on the floor.
"Good morning, Mum," said Peter sleepily.
"Good morning, darling," Helen Pevensie greeted her eldest, then she raised a brow. "Might I have an explanation as to why you and Edmund slept in the girls' room and they in yours?"
She looked at them both expectantly.
Edmund glanced at her sheepishly. "That would be my fault," he said.
"How so?" Helen folded her arms, a mock-stern expression on her face.
"Old habit?" he tried hopefully.
"Nice try, Edmund," Helen laughed. "But it's not good enough for me to believe it." she smiled, almost wistfully. "Well, I suppose I'll get an explanation to your odd behaviour someday. But in the meantime, you two need to get up and get dressed. I've got breakfast on the stove, so don't take all morning."
She smiled again and retreated from the room.
Her words struck the reality of things into Edmund, reality he'd been dreading for eight weeks straight. The sound of the door clicking shut evoked a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The kind of sick-nervous feeling you get when you're dreading something more than death itself.
Edmund's face seemed to retreat into itself, almost as if he were isolating his mind and being from what was to be. It shocked him considerably when Peter's hand grasped his shoulder.
"We had better claim our room again if we want to get dressed," the older boy suggested, moving with a sleep-induced, deliberate movement to roll out of the bed.
Edmund nodded wordlessly, swallowing against the sudden lump that had formed in his throat. He followed his sleepy brother down the short corridor and back into their own room.
Lucy and Susan were already up and dressed. Lucy lay on her stomach at the end of Peter's bed, her legs waving to and fro behind her as she rested her chin on folded arms. Susan had one leg tucked neatly beneath her, the other dangled gracefully off the edge of the bed.
"Good morning, sleepies," said Susan brightly as they entered.
"Sleep better?" asked Lucy, rolling over onto her side to get a good look at Edmund's face.
"I didn't wake up for the rest of the night, if that's any sign," said Edmund, shrugging.
Lucy nodded, a hint of a smile flitting onto her face.
"It was just weird seeing her face again," Edmund added, as if to himself.
"I guess we'd better fix our room up," said Susan, a little abruptly, her face vague and a little confused.
"We're not that messy!" exclaimed Peter indignantly.
Susan unsuccessfully held back a smile, "Are you?"
"Of course not," said Peter confidently with an impish grin, "You'll only have to fix your bed."
Smiling, Susan spoke to her sister, "Come on, Lucy."
Lucy shook her head, "You go, I want to talk to Peter and Edmund."
Susan sighed a little. "Lucy, they need to change. You can spend all the time you want with them afterwards."
"They can change in their bathroom," said Lucy dissmissively. "I'm staying here for a moment."
"Oh, alright," said Susan huffily.
She walked away, but not before all of them had seen the amused smile on her face. Peter turned and searched through his diminished wardrobe for some clean clothes. Most of his things were packed neatly in his suitcase. He pulled out a couple of articles and draped them over his arm.
"Come on, Ed," he said, "We won't have time for breakfast if we don't hurry up."
He disappeared into the bathroom with his clothes. Edmund watched him go and let a long, reluctant breath out before heading resignedly to his dresser.
"He'll be back for holiday, Edmund," said Lucy softly from the bed.
Edmund grunted and pulled out whatever clothes his hand touched first. It wasn't as if he really cared what it looked like today.
"Do try and cheer up," Lucy pleaded, heading lightly for the door. "We're all sad that he's leaving but when you're sad the sun seems to darken."
Edmund looked up sharply but only saw the sad expression on his sister's face for an instant before she turned and her plaid skirt edge fled the doorway. He clenched his teeth hard and blinked against the stinging in his eyes.
"Not changed yet?" teased Peter as he came out of the bathroom, tossing his nightclothes into the dirty basket.
Edmund shook his head, trying hard not to look Peter in the eye. He knew he'd lose any control he still had over himself if he did. Apparently Peter noticed, for the tone of his voice altered slightly as he spoke again.
"Well, the bathroom's free," he waved an indicant hand.
The frown he wore on his face was evident in his voice. Edmund gave him a garbled thanks and hurried in to change.
This was bad, he thought wildly as he shut the door. They hadn't even reached the station and he was already battling tears and roiling emotions. Without stopping to think about it, Edmund threw on the garments and splashed water in his face. He didn't even bother to look in the mirror before he tugged the door open again.
Peter gave him a crooked grin as he came out.
"Mum's going to have a fit if you go down like that," he murmured.
"Like what?" Edmund frowned at his brother and glanced down at himself.
He had managed to get the clothes on the right body parts, right? Yes, he had.
Peter got up and rummaged through a drawer in his dresser. "Normally I wouldn't care," he said, pulling out a comb. "But it'll save you Mum's opinion."
Edmund couldn't help but smirk at that. They both knew their mother would have a lengthy speech ready for him about the importance of appearing gentlemanly if he looked a little in disarray. Edmund stood still and allowed Peter to push and comb his dark hair into place.
"There," said Peter, standing back and imitating their mother by narrowing his eyes and peering closely at Edmund's lengthening fringe. "I believe that'll do, as long as Mum doesn't look too closely. I'm afraid I never learned how to do hair properly." he smiled ruefully.
"Thanks," said Edmund gratefully.
"Not a problem, little brother," said Peter, tossing the comb onto the dresser top and steering Edmund out the door. "Now we'd better eat before it gets too cold."
Edmund nodded, the lump forming once again. He wasn't sure he was hungry at all. Nausea built in his throat, making him want to keep his mouth tightly shut.
Breakfast was uneventful, but too short. In a matter of second, it seemed, they were already in the taxi and halfway to the station.
Susan had given up her seat next to Peter for Edmund, who now leaned against his brother with a carefully stoic expression. Susan, Lucy, and most definitely Peter, knew exactly what lay behind that stolid face, having known it for near two decades (though Susan denied this). It was the mask he used to hide his pain or sorrow. He was hiding both this time.
Their mother was in the front passenger seat, sitting quietly. Lucy leaned on Peter from the other side, eyes closed. Susan sat next to Edmund, intently watching the passing scenery.
Moments later, the crunching of gravel beneath the tires of the vehicle told them they were at the station. Peter gently shook Lucy.
"We're here, Lu," he whispered, not wanting to startle her.
Lucy nodded and sat up. "I wasn't asleep," she said, sounding apprehensive.
They all four got out of the car. Peter went around to the back to pick up his suitcase, but Edmund beat him to it.
"Edmund, I'll carry it," Peter protested as Edmund grasped the handle.
Edmund didn't answer, or look at him, as he hefted the heavy baggage and determinedly hauled it off. Peter shrugged helplessly and allowed Lucy and Susan to take his hands. They trailed behind the struggling Edmund, Lucy gripping his hand tightly.
"Here we are," said Helen a little brightly as they neared the train. "Why don't you get your things on board."
She nodded to the train. Edmund had already lugged the suitcase over and begun to drag it up the lip into the train. Peter let go of the girls' hands and hurried over to help him, managing to thread his way through the crowd rather easily. The two of them picked an empty compartment and, after countering several of Peter's protests, Edmund swung the case up and onto the rack. But he never made eye contact.
Then they both went back out again so Peter could say goodbye.
"Goodbye, darling," said Helen softly, giving her oldest a hug. "Do try and write us."
"I will, Mum," Peter murmured, echoing the same words he had uttered nineteen years prior.
He turned to Susan, who tugged him into a gentle, if rather formal, hug.
"We'll miss you, Peter," she said with a sad smile as she pulled back. "Take care."
"Goodbye, Susan."
Peter gave her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder and then turned to Lucy.
"Bye, Lu," he said.
Lucy threw her arms around his chest and hugged him tightly.
"I wish you didn't have to go," she said sadly, her sweet voice muffled. "I'll miss you so much!"
"I'll miss you too, Lucy," said Peter, hugging her back and giving her short hair a parting tousle.
Then he turned to Edmund. The intensity of his emotions skyrocketed painfully when he saw his baby brother. Edmund stood there, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, staring at Peter's feet. Peter's throat tightened and his heart began to beat faster. What was it about Edmund that could make him about face on a coin by a simple posture? He was just about ready to cancel the whole thing, retrieve his suitcase and go back home with them.
"Oh Aslan, Ed, don't do that," he moaned softly to his brother. "You know you could make me kill myself with that expression."
"Why would I send you to your death when it's killing me to see you board a train alive?" asked Edmund, quietly so only Peter could hear him.
Peter watched him sadly for a moment before stepping forward and pulling his brother into a gentle hug. Edmund tensed ever so slightly at first, but as Peter held him there for a moment, all his reserves broke down in the space of a second. Abandoning his self-restraint, Edmund threw his arms around Peter, fiercely returning the hug and burying his face into the grey sweater. He didn't cry, but his shoulders trembled as a tell-tale sign. He was crying inside. Peter knew it because he'd been doing the same thing ever since the birth of Susan. He'd sword he would never cry in front of his sibling so as to protect them from fear. And he'd never lost control...except for once, after the Battle of Beruna.
Edmund gasped shakily, fisting his hands into the back of his brother's shirt. Peter just held him, running his hand in small circled on his back.
"It's alright, Ed," he murmured quietly. "I'll come back as soon as holiday starts, I promise."
Edmund nodded and then barely pulled away, his jaw clenched hard, his brow wrinkled slightly in a frown. The train whistle blew warningly.
"Write me," Peter reminded him, dropping an affectionate kiss on the top of his head.
"I will."
Edmund nodded and bit his lip hard. Peter gave his family a last look and hurried to the train, his profile quickly vanishing inside the metal transport.
Blinking desperately against the tears that fought to spill over and down his face, Edmund raised a hand and waved as the train began to move. Peter's familiar form appeared through a window, waving goodbye as he was taken around the bend. Edmund was halfway glad there was a bend there, for if there hadn't been he was positive he would have run after the train and leapt aboard without a second thought if only it would keep him close to Peter. But then it disappeared.
Edmund stared wistfully after it, clenching his hands to keep the from trembling, eyes pained. He wouldn't see Peter for the next three months. What would he do at home? After school, he and Peter had usually done everything together. They played croquet (they'd never finished a game because each one played host to a heated banter, eventually resulting in a mock brawl), they would explore together, or simply sit in silence near the stream close to their house. Sometimes Lucy came along with them, trotting to keep up with their longer strides.
But now he was just making up excuses. He was going to miss Peter terribly, he should just take it for what it was.
A smaller hand slipped into his own.
"Mum says it's time to go, Edmund," said Lucy quietly.
Even her voice sounded a little thick. Reluctantly, Edmund turned and followed her back to the taxi. He wasn't sure he wanted to leave the station and go home. He wanted to stand there on the platform and wait. Wait until the train returned with Peter.
He was on his own now, he realized with a pang. Dad wasn't even home yet. They hadn't heard anything from him in forever; meaning it was long past the youngest time Edmund could remember, if he even cared to recall upon his past in England. It was up to him to look after the girls now.
On the way back he sat next to Lucy, ever grateful for her comforting presence. She had curled up and put her head on his lap, holding his hand securely. It never ceased to amaze him how easily she could manipulate him just by being there. Her small being, curled up and resting against him, comforted him more than he'd expected.
/Thank Aslan for you, Lucy./
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
A blood-curdling shriek. A blinding flash of blue. The clash of metal against metal. Peter losing the battle against the Witch. Peter screaming his name.
He snapped his eyes open again, subconsciously tightening his grip on Lucy's hand. He saw that every time he closed his eyes now. And with a feeling of dread, he wondered if he would last until Peter returned...or would these demons break him?
