Photograph
By SugarHighNutcase
This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I was inspired to continue. This is actually how I was going to end the fic, but then I changed my mind and wrote the ending you saw last chapter. A couple reviews got me inspired, so here is the result. Just a continuation, with the ending it was meant to have. It's kind of short. Enjoy!
Chapter Two
Edmund cracked open his eyes and shut them right away. The light hurt; it was too early and too bright. He needed rest, but could not fall back asleep. Groaning, he turned in the bed, and felt something move next to him. Edmund's eyes snapped open, and he found himself face-to-face with his elder brother, who was grinning at him.
"Morning," Peter whispered laughingly. Edmund realized that Peter's arm was around his body, holding them in a close embrace.
"You're in my bed," Edmund stated simply.
"Yes, I am." Peter seemed particularly cheerful that morning. He propped himself up with one elbow. "Did you know that you mumble quite loudly in your sleep?" He grinned annoyingly.
"I wasn't aware," Edmund said dryly. "I am oh-so-sorry if my mumbling woke you."
"It was actually rather amusing. There were only a few words distinguishable. The rest was all-"
"Mumbled?" Edmund supplied. He sat up. Peter followed suit.
"Yes, actually."
There was a moment of comfortable silence. Then Edmund turned to his elder brother and spoke. "Peter, do you think he'll come home?"
Peter avoided Edmund's eye. "I really don't know, Ed. We can't know what will happen, can we?"
Edmund sighed. "I guess not, but- I- I need something. Reassurance, I guess, that he'll come back to us. It's bad enough him being gone, but when there's a chance he won't return alive-" Edmund stopped, afraid to say more.
"I know, Ed," Peter whispered, hugging him. "I know."
Edmund felt as though he was going to cry again. He didn't want his father fighting, he wanted his father home, safe, and with them. With me, Edmund thought.
"We're all worried, Ed. We all know what might happen. But we just have to hope he'll be okay," Peter said into Edmund's hair, his voice muffled.
"Peter, I don't want him to die." Edmund knew he sounded miserable and pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He wanted –no, needed- his father to be with him, safe and sound.
Edmund knew he was being stupid, but he needed his father to hug him, and hold him, and tell him it'd be okay. He loved Peter- when they weren't arguing- but he needed his father to be here, instead of his brother.
Dad was the only one who understood, Edmund thought. He was the only one who gave me second chances, who hugged me instead of yelled, who actually talked to me.
"It'll be okay, Eddy," Peter said, trying to sound sure of himself.
Abruptly, Edmund sat up. Glaring at Peter and wiping the few escaped tears away angrily, he jumped out of bed. "Don't call me EDDY!" Edmund turned and ran out of the room, sobbing quietly to himself now, ignoring his brother's hurt look of confusion.
No one calls me Eddy anymore. That's Dad's name for me, NOT theirs!
Edmund ran out of the house, not listening to his mother's shouts, and sprinted down the street. He didn't know where he was going, but he was going to get away from the painful reminders of his father's absence.