A/N: Um. So, the last time this was updated was about two years ago on August 11, 2011 and for that I am very very sorry. I honestly have no idea how everyone is going to react when they see the alert in their inbox...but I look forward to hearing what you think. Has my writing style changed in two years? (Good grief, guys, I am really awfully sorry about this! I will finish it now, I promise!)
Also, because of the long wait, I had a really interesting plot twist idea when I started back on this. So I hope it makes sense and you enjoy it. :)
Laura Andrews, narniahannah (anon), Jesus' girl 4ever, Arrowhead 1996-this chapter is dedicated to you, for poking the dead story that was curled up in a corner of my mind until it was jerked and screamed "I'M ALIIIIIIVE!"
Thanks so much for everyone's patience with me on this one!
Enjoy!
Chapter 9: In Which History is Rewritten
The first thing he realized was that everything hurt. Mostly it was his head, at first. If brains could blow fuses, than his was definitely in need of repair. Everything tingled slightly, and pain throbbed through his consciousness like a hammer smashing into a ripe pumpkin. So dulled were his senses that it was only when he realized that he was conscious of the pain that he realized he was conscious at all.
Opening his eyes with a herculean effort, Connor blinked and sat up slowly, ignoring the pounding in his head. Well, he thought. Not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Nor on the Dawn Treader, for that matter.
Donovan! He sat up and looked around, searching for his red headed partner. "Donovan!"
"Oh, my head!"
Flinching, Connor looked to his left and saw Susan slowly sitting up and looking around dazedly. Through his blurry vision, he noticed that there seemed to be less makeup on her face. A definite improvement.
With a sigh, Connor shook his head. "Go back to sleep, Su. Do us all a favor and stay that way. Donovan?"
To his relief, there came a very tired voice from not too far away. "Whatever just happened, I most definitely do not want to do again."
Gritting his teeth as he turned his head again (why did it feel like everything was spinning?), Connor found his partner and felt a twinge of relief at seeing that she seemed to still have all of her limbs. She looked him square in the eyes as she pushed herself up on her elbows and frowned. "I might say that that was time travel without a capsule. Boy, is that rough." She fell silent, and then added, rubbing her head, "I've got a blasted headache."
"Honestly, Don. I think quoting Doctor Who in Narnia Bookverse is probably breaking just about every rule we've ever been made to memorize." Connor snorted (which hurt) and then contented himself with smirking at his partner, who just shrugged. It was well known around headquarters that she was the resident Whovian.
A moan of pain to the Canon Keepers' left reminded them that Susan was still with them. Donovan sighed and dropped back to the ground with her hands over her face.
"Of course, she's still with us," she muttered, so quietly that Connor could barely hear. "Why couldn't the thing have sent her back so that we could stay and help repair the adventure?"
Cocking an eyebrow, Connor looked at his partner a little more seriously, waved his hand in front of her (hidden) face, and then wondered if he should check Donovan's pupils.
His voice only barely hid the concern he was feeling as he quipped, "Alright. That's it. Who are you and what have you done with Cordelia Donovan?"
"Shut it, Connor," Donovan shoved him away from her. "And don't call me Cordelia!"
"W-where am I?" Susan's voice sounded strangely shaken. Both Canon Keepers turned to look at her and froze. Now that Connor could see clearly, he realized that this was wrongwrongwrong because this was not movie-verse Susan.
Even sitting, she looked slightly regal. Her face was pale and haggard, but there was something indefinably in charge about the way she fixed her eyes on the two other young people. She had twisted her tangled dark hair out of the way and fixed it in a no-nonsense knot at the back of her neck.
"Who are you?" she asked. The quaver was gone, replaced by suspicion. Connor jumped to his feet and brushed off his shirt nervously.
"Um. Your highness. We are—we're Canon Keepers. That is, I mean, we're from—"
"Wait." Susan lifted a hand. "Don't bother to explain. I am familiar with the Canon Keepers. Always popping up during our reign, with never enough memory spray to go round. But that doesn't answer my question fully. Who are you? And where are we?"
Connor's mouth had fallen open (Careful, his partner thought with a snicker, or you'll be catching flies), but Donovan recovered pretty quickly.
"I'm Donovan and this is Connor. We're in—well, in Narnia at a time when you aren't supposed to be here. It's rather a long story. Someone was writing about a Susan aboard the Dawn Treader and it was movie-Susan, and we thought we had her with us, but now our STARDD device is broken and to be honest, your highness, I have no idea why you're here."
Susan Pevensie frowned. "Must be a ploy of that author. The Dawn Treader? And at a time when I'm not supposed to be here?" She sighed. "It's Lucy and Edmund, isn't it? They've gone back while I'm in America. Well. Good for them. I guess." She looked up at the sky and added, "Didn't think I'd be coming back. Not after last time."
"You weren't supposed to," Donovan replied, rolling herself to her knees and looking around, trying not to focus on the way her body protested to each movement. "Connor, shut your mouth. Where do you suppose we are?"
"Where do you think?" Connor replied, out of habit. He always quoted out of habit. Donovan was not amused. Mostly because it was movieverse.
"Well," she said, eyeing the long beach and the gently sloping green hills beyond,
"It doesn't appear that we've made it back to our world. Otherwise we'd either be in the transport station or in a hospital somewhere (neither of which appears to be the case). So, either our STARDD has gone wacky and sent us somewhere random where we've no idea of what's going on or how to get back (in which case we're more than sort of lost and in need of assistance) or we are still in Narnia, and will doubtless discover which island we're on if we explore a little."
Connor scratched his head. It sounded logical. "Do you suppose we've gone forward or backward in the journey? Supposing we're back on the Lone Islands? And have we moved in time?"
Donovan looked down at her STARDD. It was completely shot—wires protruding from the sides, the readouts all pointing to zero and slightly charred. Hopelessly wrecked, and after all Connor had done to try to fix it, too. Although the energy from the lightning had powered it enough to seemingly send them somewhere.
"No idea. I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
After managing to stop staring at Susan (what a relief to see her, after having to put up with movie-Susan!), Connor stretched his aching muscles and looked around at the beach. There was no sight of any other islands or (more importantly) a ship. As he rolled his neck, he let his mind try to sort out which islands they'd been to and which were next. He always got the middle islands in a muddle. The sequence was important, but somehow it was so hard to remember…was Dragon Island or the Sea Serpent attack first? Oh, Dragon, of course, because of Eustace and Caspian's second best sword.
He heard a sharp intake of breath from Susan as she moved to sit up. In an instant he was beside her, pushing aside the throbbing in his head because he was so dead if anything happened to the real queen out of the regular timeline.
"Are you alright? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.
She looked rather like she was going to be sick, holding a hand to her head. "I—it will pass. Feel a bit faint. Jove it hurts!"
Donovan's voice came from behind them. "Shouldn't we get moving? Look about. See where we are?"
"Don," Connor snapped, "she's hurt."
She was there a second later, frowning and laying a hand on the queen's shoulder. "What's the matter? Can you stand?"
Susan rubbed her forehead, eyes closed. "Not—not sure. I need a moment—just a moment, and I'll be alright."
Donovan glanced at Connor, who was looking a little too worried (hadn't he had a mission with book-Susan before? Oh dear) and made a decision.
"You go. Figure out where we are. I'll stay with her."
"But—"
"Connor. I'm invoking Section 2."
"That's ridiculous, I'm not—"
A brief conversation ensued that was completely unnecessary and really quite absurd in nature, but Donovan would assume the worst so Connor acquiesced like a gentlemen and left the pale and shaken Susan in his partner's capable hands.
"It might be the Duffers," Connor said shortly before he left (he was only slightly annoyed), "so if you hear any thumping…"
His partner nodded grimly and a little impatiently. "Protect the queen. Got it."
Connor raised an eyebrow and shot back, "I was going to say hide. But whatever you like. I'm sure there's a regulation about that too."
He took off at a run, jogging inland away from the sea. He noticed something even through the fog of annoyance that was eating away at his reason: it was all so quiet—but not a dangerous quiet, like the quiet of Dragon Island, creatures living in fear of a greater beast that could burn them alive for supper. No, this was a contented quiet. A peace hung about the land—a sleepy wakefulness. It pervaded his senses until even the pounding headache drained away into one weary corner of his mind. He wondered if this was what the Wood between the Worlds was like.
Regardless, it was definitely an enchantment. That meant they would have to be wary, for if it was the Island of the Dufflepuds, even though they had no need to fear the magician, the Duffers could be…problematic. Especially without Lucy to fulfill the canonical duty of reading the spell to disenchant them.
After the initial burst of energy from the anger wore off, jogging was harder, because even the gentle slope of the hill teased his aching muscles and made him grunt with annoyance. He was not, shall we say, the most athletic of people. After all, he rather preferred lounging in the corner of a coffee shop with a good book or his trusty old laptop to any kind of sport or physical activity. Still, he did enough to keep himself ready. Just in case he found himself in situations where he had to carry a wounded companion (or protesting Sue) out of a story, or flee like mad from one of the witch's creatures (an ability he'd quickly picked up after learning the hard way that people who are too out of shape can't outlast a Were-wolf when it comes to running). However, this is all completely irrelevant to the story except for the fact that he was now a bit sore when it came to jogging uphill.
Fortunately, he did not have to jog for long. He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the gray pillars that jutted up out of the ground in a valley between several hills. It was a ruin (he'd always loved ruins), the tall stone blocks slightly worn by wind and rain and the gentle gnawing of time's teeth upon their towering forms. As he drew closer, he caught sight of the long table that ran the length of the small pavilion, and of the bushy masses that grew alongside it.
Well. Grew. They were actually men. Men with hair that had been growing for seven years as they slept beside the table which was the resting place of a stone dagger that was not fit for them to touch—the reason for their sleep.
A scathing curse grew in Connor's mind and was gently quashed by his sense of decency. He turned and took off toward the beach once more.
"STOP!"
He froze at the sound of that voice—so clear, so cool, so calm. Like a bell it shattered the quiet, but in a way that sounded like silver and not like a sword. He knew who it was before he turned. A tall slender girl, her long fair draped behind her, stood beside one of the pillars. Her eyes were bright and fierce, like diamonds, and held him in his place.
"Do not be afraid," she said, walking forward a little hesitantly. "Are you hungry? There will be food when my father and I have finished."
Her face changed when she was close enough to see him. There was a softening of the eyes—a hint of blush in her cheeks. Lion's mane, Connor thought, flushing a little himself. Darned if Caspian and I aren't lucky fellows for being so fine-featured.
"I'm…I'm sorry, milady," he stammered, recovering a little. "Not hungry—I'm looking for…for someone. Have you had any visitors in the last few days? A man who looked like me?"
His mind was reeling. What had happened, to fling them so far ahead in the story? Where were they in the timeline? He supposed everything was ruined now—the whole story, unless it had gone back to normal once they left.
He had a sinking when she flushed again and nodded. "They sought the world's end, and the sleepers who lie yonder at the table. Yet the king—your twin almost, in features and manner—the king took counsel from his companions and sailed home upon the day following their arrival in this land. His lady insisted on it. She feared this land, and the seas further east."
"Turned back?" Connor gasped in horror, raking a hand through his hair. "His lady?"
The girl nodded, a little sadly. "She had dark-hair and bright eyes. They were to be married, as was her brother." A glint of a smile entered her eyes. "It seems that romance blossoms aboard ships."
Connor's mind had stopped reeling. It had now sort of exploded. "Wait. Wait, her brother too?"
"Yes," replied the girl. "To the one with fair hair with two names. What was it? M-Mary—"
"—Sue," Connor finished. His blood turned cold and he felt like the world had just fallen to shambles around him. He was intensely aware of the cold, hard, broken STARDD that pressed against his hip.
Failure. He was a failure. Not only had they somehow lost hold of the movie-Susan they'd been sent to stop (it didn't take a genius to figure out the name of Caspian's dark-haired beauty) but they'd somehow let the author of the fic (a Mary Sue herself!) commandeer the story and steal Edmund away too.
He should've seen it coming. Should've been prepared for this. Should have thought to put the STARDD in something waterproof or…or something. And now—now he had no idea what to do.
"Are you well?" asked the girl. She was watching him with concern. Connor shook his head.
"No. No, I'm not alright. You were going to marry him—you would've been the queen, if it hadn't been for me and that freak accident and all the mistakes I've made along the way. But I'm going to fix it." He began backing up, jerking the STARDD from his belt, eyes blazing (and no, they were certainly not brimming with tears). "I'm going to make it right."
He turned to run, but tripped (in a very Connor-ish fashion) and was cursing under his breath when he felt a glow behind him.
"My son," said Ramandu. His eyes were so deep—Connor felt as though he was staring into time itself. "The Lion said you would come."
His breath was gone, just like that. It might've been a sob, or a gasp, but he could not speak a word—not a word.
And then, at last, he could speak. Just a few words—"I failed. I've failed them—failed Him. I couldn't do it—couldn't save the story from her."
"No, my son." Ramandu replied calmly, shaking his white head. "Nor can any of us. Did you not learn from your adventure in the Lone Islands about helplessness? About how futile it is to try to accomplish anything in our own strength? When you place all your trust in yourself, the scales are tipped so easily—and all your well-intended plans will go awry."
"Oh." Connor drew in a ragged breath and wished he wasn't such an idiot. "Oh."
After all, the first thing they taught—the first thing Jack taught—was that nobody could save the day on his own. Not Peter, not Edmund, not Caspian, not Tirian. Never was it one's own strength that saved Narnia, in the end. It was only His strength that could do that. And every time they tried to depend on themselves, (he liked the way the Prince Caspian movie addressed this, even though it was utterly hopeless in every other way) they were doomed to failure.
He closed his eyes and breathed an apology to the Only One who was strong enough to change things. Lion's mane, I'm sorry. That's why it's all been wrong. I should've known…
Fear not, the Lion answered him quietly (he jumped and nearly cried out for joy). But go now and trust me only.
The old star reached down and took the STARDD from where it had fallen. He closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath. A glow surrounded the device, and then Ramandu handed it back to Connor, who was still breathing hard and looking quite crestfallen and hopeless.
"It will not last long, but it will take you to the moment in which you are most needed—to a time when the story can still be salvaged."
Connor looked at the broken device in his hand and swallowed hard. "I…I don't know what to say."
Ramandu gave him a long, long look before finally replying, "Thank the Lion, my son, and forget not his faithfulness. Now go."
He took off at a dead sprint, aching muscles forgotten, mind filled with one purpose. In minutes he was at the beach, saw Donovan glance up and give him a curious and slightly reproving look as she started to say, "What took you so—"
And then he had grabbed her arm and said, "Hang on to Susan!" and, ignoring her startled yelp and Susan's painful inquiry, Connor gritted his teeth and swallowed his anxiety.
It was time to rewrite this story once and for all.
He pressed the button and plunged into suffocating blackness.
To be continued...