The tree branches whipped at his face and arms, but he only urged his horse faster. The forest flew past him in strange, dark shadows until all he could hear was his own breathing and the steady beat of hooves against the ground. He had to get away from it all, get away from any reminders of her. He felt as if he was suffocating in memories and all he wanted was to just let the tears flow, to succumb to those memories. But the whole kingdom of Narnia rested on his shoulders. He couldn't appear vulnerable, couldn't show any signs of weakness. But he was so tired of fighting it, so tired of putting on a mask everyday. He needed to just…be. Just for a little while.

Caspian finally stopped outside a little clearing and swung off the horse's back, tying the reigns securely to a tree before stepping into the clearing.

Moonlight flooded the air around him, the soft grass conforming to his footprints. There was one lone tree standing proudly in the middle, its gnarled branches reaching out towards the midnight sky. The green foliage turned silver in the moonlight and as Caspian sat down beneath them, he could feel the roughness of the warm bark against his back. Patches of light shone through the leaves as he looked heavenward, illuminating the ground around the tree in glowing pieces. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp night air. Finally, he could breathe. Finally, he could let go.

At his silent permission, the flood gates opened. All the brief, precious moments he had shared with her flooded back with so much force that he was left breathless. When he'd first lay eyes on her, he remembered feeling a sense of complete awe. The eyes that shone like thousand-faceted diamonds, the full, rose-petal lips that parted just the smallest bit, the slightly stubborn chin…it was branded in his thoughts. And then, he'd seen her fight. Those were movements so fluid, so quick, and so precise that it put even his own skills to shame. Those eyes missed nothing, moving from target to target with unerringly accurate arrows following soon after each glance.

The flood was almost too strong, and Caspian let out a strangled, desperate sound. He knew he'd kept it locked away for far too long. Even at the castle, he'd tried his best to avoid all parts of it that were too painful. Like the courtyard….especially the courtyard. He closed his eyes, prepared to push it back, but abruptly stopped himself. He needed to remember…

When Peter presented him with that sword, he'd been overwhelmed. He'd promised to take good care of it until they returned. He remembered feeling so proud, so pleased that he'd been trusted with such an important task. Maybe he'd done something right after all. Nothing would have prepared him for what was said next. Caspian didn't know how utterly painful, destroying, devastating words could be until that moment. Just when everything was going right, it all shattered.

"That's just it," she had said, not aware of the power of the words she was saying, "We're not coming back." He'd thought it was a joke. Not coming back? No, it wasn't possible, it didn't stand to reason. It couldn't be…But when all four of the Pevensie faces wore the same look of regret and sadness, two more severe than the others, Caspian's disbelief and denial lost its anchor. All that was left was a throbbing, painful hole.

She was never coming back.

As his unbelieving eyes took in Lucy, Edmund and Peter going around and bidding goodbye to various Narnian creatures, he saw her coming towards him.

She looked painfully beautiful. The edge of her blue and white brocaded gown seemed to glide across the courtyard ground as she walked toward him. He could see her quietly settle her face, changing her expression from grief to a fragile composure.

"I'm glad I came back," she said, the tenuous smile holding just barely before slipping.

"I wish we had more time together." He wasn't as brave, as selfless as she was, and he was sure the pain on his face wasn't concealed as well as her's was.

"It would never have worked anyway."

"Why not?" Despite the threatening tears, he was surprised. She smiled.

"I am 1300 years older than you." He laughed quietly. Even in the last minutes, he was still falling for her. She turned away then, and he was absolutely terrified. Being in battle was frightening, but you could do something about it; you were fighting, you had some control over the outcome of things. But in that moment, he had no choice but to wait for either something or nothing to happen, feeling his heart palpitating wildly in his chest. Could this be the last time he would ever see her?

And then she'd turned back.

Her lips were upon his with such a bruising tenderness that it made him shiver with the intensity of it. He could feel her small, warm hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer, feeling his lips burning, searing. Sensation swept through him like a torrential flood, sharpening the tender pressure of her lips on his, so much so that he could hardly bear the sweetness of it. And for one glorious moment, he felt whole, satiated. She completed him.

Too soon, they were apart, and he saw the tiny crystals of tears that clung to her thick lashes. He remembered again the reason for those tears, and it hurt just as much the second time as it had the first. She couldn't leave, no, he wouldn't let her…In a moment of panic, he enveloped her in his arms.

It felt so…right. He savored in the feeling of her arms encircling his in response, clinging to him. He buried his head in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin, feeling the softness of her hair against his cheek. He wanted to hold her like this forever, to protect her from any and all harm, to defend her, to love her…

To love her.

It was in that moment that he realized why her face had haunted him day and night. Why every time their eyes met, his heart skipped a beat. Why every time they spoke, he mulled over what he was going to say over and over again before finally pronouncing them, stuttering like a schoolboy. Why every time he drew his sword, he told himself he was going to make it through, just to see her again.

He loved her.

He felt her shoulders tremble just the slightest bit as he held her tighter, heard the softest whimper as his hands tightened against her waist, and knew she had come to the same realization.

But it was all too late.

Cold air filled the space between them as they pulled apart, bringing the cruel truth of the present along with it. Her eyes were shining, blazing with an ice-blue fire they cut through him like a searing blade, leaving the wound raw and bleeding. How could this happen? Just when he had found the most precious realization, it was lost to him.

She'd walked away then, branding him with one last tear-filled, burning, tender gaze before stepping through the door in the air.

Gone.

Much love, please review!