A/N: One of the ideas in this part is borrowed from "The Subtle Knife" by Philip Pullman—excellent book, by the way, if you haven't read it. Also, don't worry—this is still a Tumnus/Lucy. Just thought it'd be grand to shake things up even more for the Pevensies and dear Mr. Tumnus. Also, to those who commented on ages: I know the ages are off—I just wanted to make sure everything would end up legal. I didn't really see any other way to do it :) Enjoy!

III

The Hole in the Sky

Time passed and Tumnus grew more accustomed and (it must be said) fond of his new body. He and Peter passed the hours amicably; they took meals with the Professor, and Tumnus eagerly tore through the books Peter had brought for class and those in the Professor's private library.

And so it was that Peter found Tumnus after his day's studies. Tumnus lounged in a hammock tied between two large oaks in the late afternoon, enjoying the last sun of the day, when a shadow fell across him. Peter stood over him, shading his eyes.

"Hello," he greeted Tumnus warmly. "Comfy?"

"Very," Tumnus replied, laying down A History of English Rule in Foreign Colonies. Spare Oom was quite an extensive empire, Tumnus had learned as he poured through Peter's textbook. "Each moment I discover the most remarkable things about the ways of this place."

"You know how we felt in Narnia, now." A frown creased over Tumnus' face. "I made a phone-call to my cousin's house. My aunt told me that Lucy and Eustace were playing in his room, but she'd give her the message she ought to come home sooner. I told her that you were a friend from school, wanting to visit before heading to University."

"University?"

"It's a sort of higher schooling. A big place to learn, with Professors like ours."

"Oh," Tumnus said. His heart skipped at the mention of Lucy's name. She would be here soon, Peter said so. Tumnus forgot to breathe for a moment and he gasped, coughing. Peter looked at him, worried.

"Want a hand?" Peter extended his hand down to Tumnus and pulled him to a sitting position. Tumnus got out of the hammock, carrying the book carefully.

"I promise, as soon as I can return to Narnia I'll pay you back for the clothes and everything," Tumnus was sincere. Earlier that day, Peter had taken the former faun into town, buying him two pairs of trousers and a few shirts in different colors, a package of undershorts, a pair of heavy leather shoes, and his very own suspenders. Peter had laughed when Tumnus picked out a blue pair, embroidered with red and yellow flowers, but Tumnus did not know why. "Theses are the prettiest," he had insisted, evoking a strange look from the shopkeeper and helpless laughter from Peter. He did not have them over his shoulders now; they hung down by his long legs, clad in deep cream-colored trousers. Tumnus was barefoot (not quite resigned to shoes yet) and his shirt was unbuttoned the first few holes. It was a deep jade green. It reminded him of Lucy's eyes, and he had bought only vivid shirts. Others he now owned were a steel gray, a rich blue, and a crisp white with thin blue stripes (in different shades) running lengthwise down the fabric. Tumnus was enchanted by the clothing here (clothing not a usual thing for him, of course). Peter had let him pick the bright things, delighted by Tumnus' enthusiasm. In the fading sunlight, Tumnus' curls were almost copper. His face was still scruffy and his hair tangled and long, but he was still a treat to look upon to Peter. Peter was amazed at how this transformation had occurred. And he knew immediately that if Lucy did not recall the deep love she'd held for Tumnus in Narnia, she would have no trouble regaining her passion for this handsome, if slightly awkward, young man. Peter shifted guiltily. Part of him wished Lucy would not love Tumnus so; he could picture it all.

"She—she does not love me," Tumnus would sob; and Peter would be there, with his arms opened to the distressed Mr. Tumnus. And as Tumnus would clutch at him, Peter would curl a smile over Tumnus' wild hair.

"It's alright," Peter could tell him at last. "I'm here for you."

His eyes must have been glazed, for Tumnus looked at him worriedly. "Peter? Are you ill?"

"No, it's nothing," Peter recalled himself. "I'm fine."

Tumnus shrugged and scratched at his beard. "You must get a razor," Peter had insisted at the drug store, but Tumnus was hesitant. He had never really encountered one before; he had never needed to shave. Beards stopped growing at a certain point. But Peter had put it into their shopping bag, next to a toothbrush and shampoo and deodorant. Tumnus knew all that he bought, but they looked so different here! He pawed over all the isles, to the great annoyance of the druggist.

"Let's go back to the house and you can have a bath," Peter said, steadying Tumnus gently when he swayed. To Peter, it seemed that Tumnus' skin burned like fire beneath Peter's hand.

When Peter and Tumnus arrived at the house, Peter installed him with two large, creamy towels and drew a bath for him. Tumnus was not used to running water and looked with delight at the tub, but for the life of him could not get water to a temperature that suited. While Tumnus bathed, Peter sat in the hall and read, listening with amusement to the exclamations and splashes coming from the small bathroom.

Tumnus emerged much as Peter had looked the day before, wearing only a towel around his narrow hips. Peter blushed before he could catch himself. He was quite skinny, Peter mused. He was not sure if it was simply his body type, or if he hadn't been eating well. He suspected it was a little of both.

"I forgot to get underclothes before I bathed," Tumnus flushed, and Peter handed him a pair of red-and-white undershorts.

"Put those on," Peter had said, "and then call me when you're ready."

"Ready for what?" Tumnus looked apprehensive.

"For me to help you." And he shut the door in Tumnus' face.

After a moment, he called Peter's name, and Peter opened the bathroom door. "Go ahead and sit down on the loo," he gestured to the toilet. Tumnus sat and Peter laughed. "Put the cover down first, you goose," and Tumnus smiled sheepishly, only a little embarrassed. He could not be in a bad mood: he was with the High King of Narnia, acting as brothers do, and soon Lucy would join him. He did not know what happened after all that. He would not think about it.

"What are you going to do?" Tumnus looked nervous.

"I'm going to help you shave," Peter told him calmly, "and give you a haircut."

"I can do that," Tumnus insisted, but Peter just looked at him plainly.

"Have you ever shaved before?"

"No," Tumnus admitted. "I've never had a reason to. I've never grown a full beard."

"You'll want help," Peter assured him. He began working up lather in the wooden bowl by the sink. Tumnus watched him, helplessly. He felt like a child. Peter ran a large brush around the inside of the bowl, and applied the rich cream to Tumnus' cheek. Tumnus jumped.

"It's cold," he exclaimed. Peter chuckled. By Aslan, but he was endearing—Peter stopped himself. Not now. Now was not the time for such frivolous thoughts.

"You're fine, relax," he replied, covering Tumnus' lower face with the lather. He wished he had a camera, to take a picture. No man ever looked more foolish than with a face full of shaving cream. He took up the new razor he'd bought for Tumnus and, with a steady hand, placed it against Tumnus' cheek. "Don't move," he warned, and neatly dragged the razor across his cheek. Tumnus sat stock-still, his pulse racing in his neck.

"It feels queer," he told Peter finally, as Peter rinsed the razor in the stopped-up sink.

"I know. But you get used to it."

"You people in Spare Oom seem to need to get used to a lot," Tumnus observed.

"We had to get used to a lot in Narnia," Peter reminded him, working his way across the left side of Tumnus' face. "Including being royalty."

"That couldn't have been very hard," Tumnus laughed. Peter smiled.

"It was harder than you think," he said softly. "I missed my home. I wondered if I'd ever see my mother or father again. I worried what they'd think—what had happened to us. I was afraid I'd cause them pain." He rinsed the razor again and tipped Tumnus' chin up, to gently shave his neck. "It faded in time. My memories of home left me. That's why it was so strange to us, to find the lamp-post and remember it. Lucy found it—but Lucy has always been special. She has a…a gift, I suppose. She sees things others can not."

"She is a wonderful girl," Tumnus said firmly. He believed it with all his heart. A trickle of the cream slid down the back of his neck, and he twitched. The razor bit into his neck. "Agh!" He clapped a hand to his soapy neck. "You didn't tell me you were going to slit my throat, Peter," he complained.

"Sorry," Peter apologized. "Here. That happens to me all the time."

"I can't imagine why," Tumnus said sarcastically as Peter stuck a bit of tissue paper to the knick.

"Don't move next time," Peter warned.

He finished shaving without further incident. He wiped off the excess soap with an old towel and checked for any stray hair he had missed. After a touchup, he picked up a pair of small silver shears on the cabinet.

"Don't I get to look?" Tumnus asked.

"Not until I'm finished," Peter told him. As he moved around Tumnus, snipping at the long curls, Tumnus asked about Lucy. Everything about her. Peter answered the best he could, but he found he did not know all the answers.

"Which star is her favorite?" Tumnus asked, and Peter drew a blank.

"I don't know."

"You don't know!" Tumnus was shocked. "Why, what's yours?"

"I don't really have one."

"By Aslan, Spare Oom is odd. You have so many extra things, yet you don't know your favorite bits of the world!" Tumnus looked disappointed. "You certainly know the names for them."

"Not really," Peter admitted sheepishly. Tumnus was scandalized.

"You must have forgotten," he declared. "For in Narnia I am sure you knew the stars as well as you know the lines on your palm."

Peter said nothing, not wanting to admit he didn't know the shape his hands took.

"Tonight, I'll show you," Tumnus decided. "You helped me to look more presentable and I'll help teach you the things you forgot."

"I'd like that," Peter told him, and his tone of voice satisfied Tumnus. Peter was ashamed he could not tell Tumnus simple things about Lucy, like the time she was born at or which was her favorite hair clip. Tumnus gloated when he could tell Peter things he did not know about his own sister: that her favorite tea was spiced wonderfully with cinnamon and flavored with orange, that her eyelashes were not black but a soft brown, that when she laughed her nostrils flared out.

"Her middle name is Elizabeth," Peter said at last with pride. Tumnus looked confused.

"Middle name? Why does she need a middle name?"

"It comes between her surname and her given name," he explained. "It's just another way to tell her from another Lucy Pevensie."

"There is no other Lucy Pevensie," Tumnus dismissed the thought. "It's a foolish concept. You don't have a middle name, surely?"

"All four of us do. Most humans do."

"What is yours?"

"Michael."

"What is Susan's?"
"Rachel," he told him, "and Edmund's is Christopher."

"Strange custom," murmured Tumnus. "Strange as those funny bands you wear tied to your trousers."

"Suspenders; and you wear them too now."

"I suppose I do."

"Finished," Peter said, folding his arms with a flourish and observing his handiwork. "Not bad," he nodded. "Not so well as if Susan had done it, but not bad at all."

Tumnus rose and clattered to the mirror, looking at himself. He did not appear to be sure who the creature in the mirror was, looking back.

"I do not look at all like myself," he said uncertainly. "I do not see how Lucy would recognize me." His curls were shorter, although still unruly, and his smooth face revealed a thin layer of freckles, across his cheeks and the bridge of his long nose.

"She will know you," Peter assured him. "And she will think you the most handsome man she has ever seen." His voice was strong; the voice of a King, Tumnus thought. Peter's hands shook slightly. He gripped the rim of the sink tightly, to steady himself.

"How can you be certain?" Tumnus asked. He looked guardedly at Peter, his eyes large. "How can you know for sure what she will think?"

"Tumnus," Peter said, leading him from the bathroom and turning off the light. "She adored you from the moment she met you, and as time passed she harbored deep feelings for you. She mooned so blindly over someone; we thought she must be living entirely in her own head. And one day, Susan noticed the same look when she talked to you. So, you see, I do know my own sister after all." Peter was pleased. "And if she looked on you fondly as a faun, think of how she will look on you now, with your ten toes and your fine haircut."

Tumnus was silent with the fullness of that thought. His face was lit with an internal smile.

"I shall fetch binoculars," Peter told him, "and we'll go look at the stars. Sound like a good plan?"

"A good plan," Tumnus repeated, and he followed Peter out to the dark lawn.

The small ship tossed violently in the waves. Around the cabin, a briny wind howled. In the dark, Lucy curled under thin blankets. It had taken her hours to finally fall asleep. She felt as though someone were stealing her rest from her. She tossed fretfully, her thoughts on Tumnus, before she finally succumbed to dreams.

It was the dream she had each night. You would think, Lucy murmured to herself to the dark after she woke, one would get used to such a dream after so many years.

The woods by the lamp-post, and she was no longer a little girl. And there was her dear Mr. Tumnus, in his red scarf with his parasol, the way he was the first time she ever saw him. His blue eyes were mirrors; in them, a lifetime together.

"How about you come and have a cup of tea with me?" The voice was hollow and echoed, and before her eyes the faun faded. His scarf was a bright slash of red across the white snow of the clearing.

"Tea," she said, and he reached his hand out for hers. It vanished just as she touched it, and every time she woke with a wail.

It startled Edmund, on guard outside her cabin. He slipped into her room.

"Lu," he said gently. "Are you alright?"

"Just a dream," she muttered, indistinct. The lamp Edmund set by her bed hurt her eyes. "Nothing to worry over."

"You dream of Mr. Tumnus every night," Edmund sighed. "Don't you suppose you'll have to move on?"

"Edmund!" she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. He shushed her, covering her hands with his.

"Sorry, Lu. Sorry. That was cruel and I didn't mean it that way. I meant—don't you think you should have found him by now?"

"I don't know where to look, Ed. Where do I look now? We've been to Cair Paravel and we've been to the lamp-post and he was no where. His cave hadn't been lived in for a hundred years. Where do I look, Ed?"

"Where you least expect it," he answered smoothly, and she blinked in surprise. "It's like Narnia, isn't it? It finds you. Looking for it can only drive it away. He's a part of Narnia, Lu."

"We're a part of Narnia," she said desperately, running her hands through her long hair. "Wouldn't he want to find me?"

"Maybe he's looking for you," Edmund said, gently rubbing the back of Lucy's hands. "Maybe he's looking for you right now."

"Do you think so?"

"Of course. He'd be crazy not to, Lucy. You're his oldest, dearest friend."

"I cannot live without him," she declared.

"Sure you can. You are right now." Edmund watched her, puzzled and sad. He feared that Tumnus was a thing long past.

"No, I'm not. I would know if he was gone. And I can feel part of him, still. It's just a matter of patience, is all," she said briskly. "Now, thank you for your concern. I can go back to sleep, I'm sure."

"Alright," he said skeptically. "I'll be outside if you need me again."

"Thank you, Ed." She squeezed his hands. "I think it's this storm which has me upset. You're a good brother, did you know?"

"Goodnight, Lu. Don't let the storm bother you." He left her cabin, taking the lamp with him.

In the dark, Lucy turned her face to the wall and wept.

"That is the Summer Triangle," Tumnus said, pointing to three bright stars in the purple sky. "No, not there, just here." He covered Peter's large hand with his own, guiding their index fingers together. Peter's skin prickled; hair stood up along his bare arms. Heat rolled off Tumnus' skin in waves. It was almost more than Peter could bear. "Just there, good." Tumnus released him and Peter heaved a sigh, part relief, part loss. "The bright one, there on the bottom, is called Vega."

"Vega," Peter repeated quietly, deep blue eyes cast to the heavens. "What's that?" He made an effort to quiet himself.

"The Swan," Tumnus said, barely glancing at it. "Cygnus."

"What's that blurry splotch?"

"The seven sisters," Tumnus replied. "They were sent into the sky by their father, to keep them from marrying the men they loved."

"Kind of a jerk, their dad," Peter laughed. He pushed his sleeves farther up, past his elbows, as Tumnus nodded in agreement. Suddenly, Tumnus looked down from the stars. Around them, the darkness shimmered.

"Peter," he said in a low voice. "Did you feel that?"

"No," Peter lowered his binoculars. "Feel what?" The night air rippled around them, ruffling their hair.

"That," Tumnus said, standing to face the dark woods. Peter turned with him. The insects had quieted. Neither cicadas nor crickets shrilled. Even the trees seemed to be paused in listening.

"What d'you reckon—" Peter began, and then suddenly something solid and glowing white rushed passed their side, sending Tumnus swaying. In the darkness, their eyes adjusted, and Peter cried: "Tumnus! The Stag!"

Tumnus whirled, his eyes appearing black in the darkness. Peter had never seen Tumnus angry: he imagined this is what it must look like. It sent a tremor up Peter's spine.

"Come on," Tumnus said, and he began to run. Peter had no choice but to follow.

They chased the Stag up a slick, grassy hill, deep into the night. To Peter it felt like chasing the moon. It certainly looked to any passer-by (like squirrels or cows turned out to graze) that the two men were doing just that. It rose up, swollen and silver, before them. The Stag's outline was black against it; blacker still the forms of Tumnus and Peter.

"It's no use," Peter panted, struggling to keep up with Tumnus.

"I'm not letting it get away again," Tumnus shouted, his voice cracking with impatience. "You can go back if you like."

"I'm staying with you, I promised," Peter replied shortly, and the two fell silent. Peter's mind raced. You are too extraordinary to lose, he said to himself. I won't lose track of you after all this.

The hill crested and the Stag leaped out against it, his antlers scraping the air. A blast of ferocious wind struck Tumnus in the face. He smelled salt and, under that, deep water.

"Peter! The Stag has—"and the Stag vanished into thin air. Tumnus noticed the sky was colored differently, and he thrust his hands through after the Stag. They vanished. "Peter! Come quickly!"
"What is it? What's happened?"

"Look," Tumnus said, and showed him this rip in the air.

"What, by Aslan—?"
"I don't know," Tumnus said, "but I must go through."

"Don't be foolish," Peter warned, but Tumnus had tumbled through already. And so, against his better judgment, Peter hiked up his courage and plunged through the hole in the sky.