A/N: This chapter is a bit unorthodox...
(ominous dun dun dun)
As ever, a COLOSSAL thanks and a hug from your favourite character to all of my reviewers! Cifel is a little disturbed at his own success, but I myself am thrilled with the response he is getting.
Cifel: Somebody…actually…likes me? (twitch)
(Snaps fingers) I KNEW it! I knew I named Rabadash after someone…but don't fret, dear readers! Rabadash isn't his real name, after all…(evil grin) he's not your average dwarf…
The italic scene in this chapter is an Edmund flashback, not a dream. It happened in the past, obviously.
Chapter twenty five
"Ed! Edmund…come on!"
Edmund glanced up from his meticulous perusal of the strand of seaweed, and blinked, seeing his older brother smile at him and hurry away across the sand. His sandals slapped gently on the surface and his golden hair tossed in the wind, and he was laughing. Edmund hastily scooped up his bucket and held it to his chest, hurrying to catch up with his brother.
"Peter! Wait up!"
He skidded to a halt beside Peter, who stood staring up at the sheer surface of the cliff leading up to the rock pools. Edmund followed his gaze and swallowed thickly. To the seven year old, it seemed a horrible way up. He gasped slightly as Peter jumped upwards, grasped the sharp edge of the cliff with a wince, and lifted a sandaled foot into a nearby crevice.
Edmund grabbed his sleeve and tugged insistently, and Peter turned to look down at him, frozen mid-leap.
"Shouldn't…" Edmund gulped slightly "I mean…isn't it a little dangerous? Mummy said…"
Peter rolled his eyes, and hauled himself up and over the edge, leaning back over to grin down at Edmund from high above.
"Don't be silly. She didn't say we couldn't go here, just right under the cliffs. Come on! Not chicken, are you?"
Edmund fervently shook his head, pouting, and took his brother's outstretched hand and allowed himself to be hoisted up and over the lip to join his brother. He stared down at the sand below, a small grin beginning to split his worried frown.
"You see? What'd I tell you? Safe and sound."
Peter grabbed his spade and set off down the next ridge to peer into a nearby rock pool. Edmund stayed a while, marveling at how high up he was, before following, still clutching his bucket to his chest.
The cool, salty sea air tossed their hair about their heads, and they pushed it irritably out of their eyes as they leant over pool after pool. Each was a different size, a different shape and, it seemed to Edmund, a different world. He gazed in wonder as Peter would hold up a seemingly empty shell, and quite suddenly a set of scalene, spindly legs would emerge and curl around the edges. Or when he picked up what he thought was a plant, and saw it had a slurping, sucking mouth and sharp little teeth.
Soon, as all little boys do, they grew bored of the crabs and the tiny fish, and went in search of something more exciting. Something bigger. They trekked away from the smaller pools and towards the larger ones, where the tide rose to fill huge crevices within the indents in the rock. Here, they felt far more like explorers and far less like two small brothers clutching toy tools.
"Oh! Look!"
Peter threw his spade aside and dived to his knees, wincing as the sharp rock dug into them. He bit his lip and continued nonetheless, reaching down into a deep crevice in the rock. Edmund frowned.
"Peter? What are you doing?"
Peter did not answer, but his face suddenly split into a wide grin as he pulled his hand out of the indent, holding something tightly within grazed fingers. Edmund leant over it, mouth agape.
It was a shell, about as big as Edmund's own head, a deep spiral which shone all hues of peach, pearly white and creamy yellow. Edmund reached out and touched a protruding spike from the side, and found it to be perfectly smooth and rounded instead of sharp. Peter cradled it in his hands, and marveled at the shaping of it. He raised it to eye level and Edmund now stood up on tiptoe in order to see too.
They carried on, climbing further and further away from the beach, till they reached the largest rock pool of all. It sat like the crevice of the moon, deeply set into the very core of the rock, surrounded by a high wall of sheer dark rock. Edmund eyed it with uncertainty, and even Peter stood still for a moment, watching the bowl as if it would suddenly rise and swallow them up.
"Do…do you think it's safe?"
Edmund whispered, unsure why he was speaking in such hushed tones. Peter cocked his head to the side and shifted the shell under his arm, studying the bowl further.
"Not if the tide was lower…but look. It's almost reached the second area of rocks already!"
Edmund followed the line of the sea, and saw that it was rapidly rising higher and higher up the beach, hungrily devouring any shoal or shells it came upon. He swallowed, and huddled closer to his brother, hand fisting in Peter's sleeve.
"Let's go back."
He said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. Peter nodded, turned, and jumped down to the next rock pool to gather up the spade and bucket. Edmund gazed out to the sea, watching the tide crash upon the opposite side of the bowl and tumble down into the pool.
He was just about to turn and call to Peter to hurry, when he froze.
He had seen something roll just above the dark surface of the tide, flung upwards and then pulled back down. He squinted, and clambered down to a small ledge just above the waters surface. His mouth fell open.
It was another shell, but darker, and about twice the size of Peter's. Edmund bit his lip and looked from the ledge above him, to the shell. It was so big…and he had nothing to show Daddy for his efforts, nothing which would make him proud…whereas Peter could present the other shell and receive an affectionate ruffle of his hair…
But not if Edmund managed to get something better.
Daddy would be so proud, if he got it all by himself! Besides, he didn't need Peter. He could swim across the whole width of the pool at home, and the shell was only a few metres away.
Mind set, Edmund leapt off the ledge, and landed on the edge of the bowl, the impact sending shudders up his legs. He could feel the sharp edges of the rock through his sandals, but paid it no heed as he edged slowly into the water. It was very cold, and the salty debris swirled about and clung to his legs. He shivered slightly, but thought of his father's smiling eyes, filled with pride, and continued on.
"Edmund?"
Edmund frowned as the water reached his waist. Stupid Peter. He'd probably get jealous when he got out with his prize, and tell him off for going near the tide. But it didn't seem that dangerous…the water was only disturbed by the light shimmer and ripples as he himself disturbed it. He scowled, and marched resolutely forwards, reaching out his hands for the shell.
"Ed, don't!"
Edmund peered into the dark depths of the water about him. He could see it quite clearly now, rocking gently with the currents of the tide, submerged within the deepest part of the pool. Eagerly, he surged forwards.
"Edmund NO! Daddy said-"
But Edmund was no longer listening. All he could see was the shell. The water reached his shoulder as he reached down through the cold darkness towards it.
"EDMUND!"
His fingertip brushed the smooth cone of the shell, and he smiled, leaning further over. He would take it back and show it to Daddy, and laugh at Peter's silly worrying. He had been brave enough to go in and get an even better prize! That would put Peter in his place!
He hoisted it up, and at that moment the elements struck.
A huge, powerful wave rose high above the lip of the pool, and came crashing down, cascading over Edmund's head and pushing him beneath the water. He opened his mouth as he tried to scream, but it only filled with water. He swallowed, and choked, but only more rushed in. The salty taste burned his throat and his lungs ached with the need for oxygen.
The wave collided with the edge of the bowl below where Peter now stood, horrorstruck, and the force sent it careening back.
Back out to sea.
Edmund felt his head strike against something sharp, and was wrenched over the outer ledge of the bowl and into the infinite darkness of the sea. He kicked and flailed weakly, but only sunk further down, mouth filled with water and eyes stinging, his desperate tears lost within the water around him. he tumbled across the seabed, and rolled upright, placing his feet down and pushing with all his remaining strength to gain leverage to push himself up towards the glittering surface of the water.
Quite suddenly, the hard surface of the rock fell away and he merely sunk up to his knees in the sand.
The rock pool ledge had ended.
He stared up at the dancing rays of the sun, refracted and distorted by the sea. It looked so strange, so ethereal, from beneath the waves. He attempted to dispel the water in his lungs, but only cold, stale lack of air replaced it.
And then two sandaled feet appeared.
Quickly followed by a billowing, sky blue shirt and a pale face with china blue eyes. Edmund's heart leapt as his brother swam steadily down to him, his hair dancing about his head like a halo. Peter looked so…strange, underwater. Like some sort of celestial creature.
Peter's eyes darted about Edmund and the surrounding area, as black spots appeared before Edmund's vision. His eyes fluttered, and he felt two hands grasp him around the waist and attempt to haul him up.
No good.
He was well and truly stuck.
Edmund felt a cold despair fill him, far colder than that of the water around them. He was going to die.
And Peter was going to die with him.
His eyes snapped open, and he wildly flailed his arms with all his strength, batting Peter away. His brother's face was turning red with lack of air, and he seemed to be fumbling with something beside him.
The red spade, lodged upright in the sand.
Peter grasped the handle, then grabbed Edmund collar, and pulled with an unexpected amount of strength.
Edmund flew upwards, billows of sand obscuring his vision. Instinct took over and he rose to the surface, speeding upwards. He glanced down, and his heart froze.
Peter had needed more than a spade to lever him out.
In the process of pulling Edmund up, Peter had entrenched himself up to his knees in the sand.
Buried himself in his own watery grave.
Edmund cried out to him, as his brother's terrified sky blue eyes frightened him far more than the prospect of dying ever could. Fear flooded his senses, far worse than the terror for himself did. Peter was going to die, in Edmund's place.
Peter.
Was going.
To die.
Suddenly a large hand had grabbed his shoulder, and he broke the surface, taking a lungful of sweet, fresh air. But he felt no joy, no rapture, and no thankfulness for his salvation. His head span, and he blinked as he saw a pair of dark, stormy blue eyes stare at him with a different kind of fear.
His father.
"…Da…ddy…"
He wheezed, as Henry Pevensie hoisted him up and began to carry him back to the beach. Edmund, his strength rapidly returning, struggled and flailed all over the place, his hand colliding with his father's cheek.
Suddenly, his stomach heaved.
He threw up all over the golden sand, feeling as if his insides would burst, his head pounding. But even as he dispelled what seemed like an ocean of water, he waited for a pause in his plight to speak.
"Daddy…Peter…down…"
He pointed a shaking finger towards where he himself had been stuck only moments ago, and repressed another urge to hurl as his father paled, and swung back around to dive into the water once again. Edmund watched him disappeared beneath the surface, and even though he felt petrified at the prospect, he edged closer to the oncoming tide.
He had to know.
The past few minutes shot by in freeze frame like slides on a screen. The shell. Peter, laughing at him, hair tossing in the wind. Peter, showing him the first shell, clear eyes filled with wonder. Peter, staring with wide eyes as he called for Edmund to stop.
Peter, eyes locked with Edmund's own, utter terror filling the china blue depths, but somehow accepting, and Edmund froze.
He had known.
Peter had known that what he was doing could well have cost him his own life, but did it nonetheless. For Edmund. For stupid, stupid, foolish Edmund.
The tears rolled down his cheeks, no longer lost within the salty depths. He had killed his own brother. Peter was dead.
Edmund was a murderer.
He watched with blank, almost unseeing eyes as his father broke the surface, Peter's limp form cradled in his arms like a rag doll. His brother was covered in grime and grazes, his skin a sickly blue colour, his golden hair hanging dark and in limp strands, obscuring his face.
He certainly looked dead.
Their father ran back to fall to the ground beside Edmund, and Edmund watched, unable to move as his father laid Peter on the sand and checked his pulse, his breathing.
Edmund could tell from his father's face that the news wasn't good.
Peter's eyes were closed, the lashes crusted with salt from the sea and resting almost peacefully against now flushed cheeks. He looked like he could have been sleeping. But from this sort of sleep, nobody woke up.
Edmund bent over himself, fisting his hands and clawing at his face, and sobbed harder, more for Peter than himself. He pulled at his hair and curled up in the sand, the coarse surface chafing his bare legs.
There was a gasping inhalation, and a choking sound.
Edmund's eyes snapped open to see Peter almost sitting upright, held up by their father, and hacking up dark, thick water mixed with blood and vomit. At first, Edmund didn't quite comprehend what he was seeing.
Peter was…dead.
His brother was shaking and shuddering uncontrollably, as their father quickly turned him onto his back and began rubbing the now filthy sky blue shirt gently. For what seemed like hours Peter continued to convulse and throw up, and Edmund thought his very bones would shatter under the pressure. Eventually, Peter stilled, and the only sound which filled the air was harsh, raspy breathing.
After that, everything was a blur.
They had returned to their mother and sisters, all three of them ignoring the harsh reprimands and horrified comments. Daddy had wrapped Peter in one of the spare picnic blankets, while Mummy had toweled Edmund dry, all the while frantically asking what had happened. Edmund didn't answer. He was watching his brother's face, which seemed almostserene now.
Peter's eyes drooped, and his head dropped against his father's shoulder as he still continued to rub comforting circles in his son's back. His dulled, china blue eyes moved slowly to lock with Edmund's.
Peter smiled sleepily at his little brother, before his eyes fluttered shut and he fell limp against his father's side.
And Edmund closed his own eyes, and began to cry again.
Nothing any of them said could either console him, or force him to tell them what had happened. He merely held his father's hand tightly and walked with aching legs back to the train station, watching his brother's peaceful, sleeping face all the way.
He didn't stop crying until he fell into a fitful sleep that night, cold and alone and too frightened to seek the warm comfort of his brother's bed.
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A/N: Remember in one of the dreams, where Edmund thought that if Peter would clamber over the edge something terrible would happen? Well, now you know. I originally planned to have this as another dream, but it just didn't seem to fit in. this works better by way of angst, though.
I didn't originally intend for this to be one long flashback, but it turned out far longer than I expected. I hope you enjoyed it!
Toll: Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall…
Cifel: (begs) PLEASE! If you review, ohcEEcho promised to shut her up for good…(wild eyes)