Chapter 12

Reconciliations

Peter ran faster than he'd ever run in his life when he heard Susan's frantic blasts. He prayed he would get there in time, to defeat whatever foe was attacking them. He eventually reached a small stream, where the two girls had been fooling around, and saw them up in a tree.

Maugrim and another member of his pack circled the trunk, every now and then leaping up and snapping their jaws violently. Susan and Lucy were screaming and kicking at the animals, trying to climb to higher branches.

"Get back!" Peter yelled, unsheathing his sword, as he approached the villains. He was panting, his hair sweat-soaked and plastered to his forehead. Susan gasped and glanced at Lucy who sat above her, and the girls watched in horror. "Peter, look out!" Susan cried as the two wolves crowded him on either side.

"We've been through this before," Maugrim snarled. "we both know you haven't got it in you."

Peter felt anger welling up from deep inside, and it almost scared him. He prepared to strike a blow at Maugrim, but Lucy's, "Peter, be careful!" caused him to whirl around and see the second wolf at his heels. Lucy covered her eyes, expecting her brother to be eaten.

There was a sudden roar and a pounce, and Lucy uncovered one eye to find Aslan amongst them, his paws pinning the other wolf to the grass. It yelped with surprise, and the Centaur, Oerius, wielded his sword at that moment.

"No," Aslan growled. "Stay your weapons. This is Peter's battle."

Peter swallowed, breathing hard as he continued to point his sword at Maugrim. The wolf gave a loud growl and lunged for Peter, who swung as hard as he could with the sword, but missed the animal's belly by half an inch. The wolf's claws dug into his right shoulder causing him to yell in pain as it tore down his back, and the girls cried out in terror.

"Is that all you got, boy?" Maugrim asked with another evil laugh. Peter fell to his knees and clutched his throbbing arm, his head bowed, gritting his teeth. He could hear his sister's crying softly from their pearch high in the tree, and felt his heart racing a million miles a minute. "High King in deed!" the wolf scoffed. "Knocked down by one blow. I dare you to take another shot at me."

Peter blew out his breath, releasing his grip on his shoulder, and seeing a handful of bright, red blood. The pain was almost unbearable; he felt the all too familiar blackness crowding his vision, but he couldn't pass out; not now.

Oerius looked at Aslan with a raised eyebrow, and bent down so he could whisper into the Lion's ear, "Aslan, you are going to kill the boy. He cannot accomplish this task."

Aslan let out a low growl as Maugrim continued to cackle nastily, throwing mocking insults at Peter the entire way. Lucy let out a small sob, and watched as Peter raised his head, his face ghasty white. He could see Oreius's expression of disblelief, and Aslan's teeth beared.

Something stirred inside Peter that caused him to reach for his sword suddenly, using his good arm, and he took such a powerful lunge at Maugrim that it took the head wolf by complete surprise. right The pain from his injury nearly tore him to pieces, but Peter managed to stick the tip of the sword into the gut of the head of witch's secret police. Maugrim let out a yelp and moan, falling smack on top of Peter's stomach, dead.

The last thing Peter saw before he fainted, was of Susan and Lucy both rushing to his side.

Oerius was still scowling as he stood next to Aslan, who had released the wolf he held with his paws. "Forgive me," he began, "but are you quite certain this is the boy who is to be the high King? If he could barely take on a single wolf?"

Aslan let out another low snarl, and Oerius gave a noise of understanding. "Follow him," he ordered, as the wolf took off, yelping the entire way in fear. "He will take you to Edmund. And…" he lowered his voice and said something that neither of the girls could understand; they were still trying to revive their brother, whose head merely lolled from side to side.

"Lucy, go and get a bit of water from the stream," Susan said, tapping Peter's cheeks. "Peter, wake up," she begged, choking on a sob as she watched the blood from her brother's wound seep onto her dark green dress.

Lucy returned quickly with a cup of water and a towel, which she explained would be for to wrap the wound.

"We should remove his shirt to see how bad the wound is," she said, and Susan nodded, brushing Peter's bangs away from his eyes. "Best to do it when he's still unconscious," she teased, and carefully began to remove his clothing. After pulling off the tunic and the green cotton shirt, they saw several, fairly deep gashes on Peter's shoulder, which were bleeding freely.

"Oh my God," Susan gasped, and Lucy stared at the blood.

"Lucy," Aslan said softly. "Remember your gift, sweetheart."

"My cordial!" she suddenly exclaimed, smacking a hand against her forehead. "I left it back at the camp!"

"Go and get it," Susan said. "Hurry!"

Lucy took off, and Susan eased Peter into a bit of a sitting position, dabbing at the wounds with the white sheet. She eventually managed to tie it up in a turniqet fashion, before bathing Peter's face with a fresh piece. He let out a soft moan after a moment or two, his eyes fluttering open.

"Peter?" Susan sobbed, kissing him on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked dazedly, not quite sure what was going on. "Whajusthappend?" he muttered, and she laughed softly.

"You just killed Maugrim," she said, and Peter glanced over his shoulder, hissing in pain. "OW!" he cried.

"You have done well, Peter," Aslan complimented. "your sister will return soon, and your strength will be restored."

Peter gulped and looked at Susan, whose dress and hands were covered in his blood. "Are you…" he swallowed, his throat feeling like wax paper.

"I'm fine, Peter," she squeaked. "Just lay here and rest until Lucy comes back. She won't be long."

Peter hissed as a firey pain shot through his injured arm and back, and lay slowly back against Susan's lap. "You shouldn't have to see this," he croaked, and he attempted to reach for his shirt that lay only an inch or so from him. "Agh…" he gasped, and Susan touched his wrist.

"Don't worry about it, Peter. It's…I'm sure I'll see worse." The thought of the upcoming battle entered her mind.

Peter patted her hand with his good one, and gritted his teeth. "So he's…really gone? Maugrim?" he asked, his breath coming in small gasps; it hurt too badly to take a deep one. He started to drift off again just as Lucy came running back with the glass phial in her hand, and she fell to her knees beside the two of them.

"I'm here, Peter," she promised, and he peeked at her through one eye. "Oh, good…you're awake!"

"Yes, but he's really not that with it," Susan said, easing him up very carefully.

"Ow…" Peter choked, and he gritted his teeth. "Unnh…I can do it," he whispered as Lucy unscrewed the cap from the bottle. She frowned and looked at Susan, who nodded in agreement.

"Okay…" she handed it to him so he could hold it in his good arm, though he was shaking too badly to hold it steady.

"Ah!" he hissed, and Lucy touched his good shoulder, smiling.

"Peter, it's all right. Let me," she said, and he groaned.

"All right," he croaked, and Susan eased his head so he wouldn't choke.

Lucy smiled and tipped the phial downward, allowing a single drop of the bright red juice to enter Peter's mouth. It tasted like sweet honey with a tinge of strawberry, and he allowed it to slide down his throat. The girls waited anxiously as Lucy capped her cordial, and held their breaths. Aslan continued to sit and watch them, his great tail swishing back and forth gently.

Peter squeezed Susan's hand as he continued to lay waiting, and suddenly, a gentle, soothing coolness moving through his veins. He squirmed a little and struggled to sit up, clasping a hand to his forehead after a moment or two. Lucy sighed with relief and so did Susan, who embraced him tightly.

"Thank God you're all right," she said.

"Oh your dress," Lucy breathed, and Susan looked down.

"I'll just change of course," Susan laughed. "Peter, are you sure you're all right?" she asked, as he struggled to his feet, allowing his sisters to help him.

He touched the arm that had been injured, and was relieved to find it completely healed.

"Yes, I do feel better. Thanks, Lu," he croaked, and she choked on a sob, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Aslan, after a moment or two, stepped forward. "Peter," he said softly, once Lucy released him, "clean your sword."

Peter wet his lips and turned to where his weapon lay on the grass, the wolf's dead body still lying beside it. He gulped and went to remove the sword from the animal's stomach, and stuck it in the grass to wipe it off. The girls stepped back and watched as Alsan ordered Peter to get down on one knee, and then placed a great paw upon his shoulder.

"Arise," he finally said, "Sir Peter Wolfsbane. Knight of Narnia."

Susan and Lucy gasped and looked at one another, beaming as Peter sheathed his sword. "Thank you," he said softly, and Aslan nodded.

"It was well earned, Peter. I am proud of you."

"Excuse me, Peter," Susan whispered, squeezing his arm. "I'm going to change my dress, but I'll meet you back at the camp in a little while."

He nodded, and turned to Aslan. "They'll be safe, Peter. You've done what needed to be done. Take hold of my mane, then…we'll walk slowly, while you are still regaining your strength."

Peter, after taking his shield and putting it over his shoulder, took hold of the lion's fur and, with one glance back at his sisters, followed Aslan towards the direction of the camp.

"Peter," Aslan began, after a few moments of silence. "There is something I wish for you to see when we return to the camp. But…you need to rest, and I shall bring you into my tent after dinner."

"All right," Peter replied softly, and the great Lion walked slowly with him the rest of the way.

Peter was grateful to crawl onto his cot, and was brought a cup of hot soup from one of the dyrads. "Thank you," he told the creature after it ducked back out of the tent. He realized just how ravenous he felt, which was probably due to the miniature battle and injury he'd just endured. He was just finishing the soup when Susan and Lucy returned, and both peeked in to check on him.

"Su? Lu?" he whispered, and both girls pulled seats beside him.

"Can we get you anything else?" Susan asked as he gave a loud yawn and apologized afterwards.

"You've had a long day," Susan replied, as he continued drinking the soup.

"I know…I'm just so tired all of a sudden. Can't keep my eyes open."

"Well, finish the soup and lay down," Lucy encouraged.

"That's not neces…" Peter paused to yawn again, and the girls tried to hide their giggles. "What's so funny?" he asked, and they shook their heads.

"Nothing," Susan promised.

"I suppose a small nap wouldn't hurt, and Susan immediately fetched him an extra pillow, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Before they knew it, Peter's eyes closed and he was snoring softly.

"Whew!" Lucy breathed as she and Susan tiptoed out of the tent. "Thank goodness…"

"Hopefully that will help," Susan replied, and they nodded to one another.

It wasn't until darkness fell that Peter eventually opened his eyes, and gave a great yawn. He blinked until his vision cleared, though found he still felt fairly groggy. "What…" he sat up, holding a hand to his forehead, and saw a flicker of firelight through his tent flaps. "I've missed dinner?" he asked himself as he pulled the blankets down and stood, peeping through the flaps.

"Good evening, sir," a dwarf told him politely, passing by.

Peter nodded and took in a spicy whiff of some type of meat. His stomach did a flip flop, and he clutched it, quite certain he was going to be ill.

"Your highness?"

A deep voice spoke, and Peter swallowed, lifting his head. A cheeta stood a few inches away. "Aslan wishes to have a meeting. Follow me."

Peter nodded, and walked alongside the cheeta trying to ignore the smell of the supper being cooked. He could see dyrads moving about from tent to tent, passing out plates and tin mugs to the soldiers, and was grateful he'd left his own tent when he did.

They arrived at Aslan's tent, where the lion sat out front waiting for them. "You may go. Thank you." He turned to Peter after the smaller animal walked off, leaving the two alone. "I trust you slept well?"

Peter glanced over his shoulder and turned back to Aslan. "With all do respect, I do not believe that was soup they served me today," he whispered, and the lion chuckled warmly.

"It was," Aslan insisted. "only you did need a bit of help to fall asleep. What you are about to witness tonight would not have gone over well after the ordeals you faced."

Peter bit his lip, not quite sure what was going on. "Peter, while I was speaking with you on the hill this afternoon, I came upon a conclusion that there is something deeper that is troubling you than the honest fear of the prophecy itself."

"I apologize for having interrupted you," Peter said softly, and Aslan shook his head.

"That is no matter," he promised. "but, I think what you will see when I invite you into my tent will at least begin to heal what is past."

Peter's heart was now pounding fast as Aslan gripped at the main flap of the tent with his teeth, and pulled it open. A slight purr encouraged Peter to enter the enormous tent, and soon, the flap closed behind him. "Close your eyes, Peter, and just think. There is someone you miss, someone whose loss has affected you deeply. You will know when the time is right to open them."

Peter did as he was told, and felt a familiar ache spreading through his heart, that same cold emptiness he fought against. He stood rooted to the spot for several moments, unitl he felt someone place a hand on his shoulder. He didn't open his eyes yet, but reached up towards the hand, touching it softly, feeling almost afraid.

"Open your eyes now, Peter."

Peter felt his throat choking up with tears as he did so, and he found himself staring into the eyes of Ethan Hunt. For a moment, he was unable to speak…he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Only tears, which began to fall silently down his cheeks.

"Would sitting down be easier?" Ethan asked, pointing to a chair Aslan reserved for guests who entered his tent. "Peter, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit down."

Peter did as instructed, though his head spun. "How…" he croaked.

"I'm not alive, Peter. I am am imprint of my former self, but Aslan thought it would help if you saw me as I am in his country. I'm not able to stay very long," he continued, sitting cross-legged on the ground at Peter's feet. "But before I begin to tell you why Aslan brought me here, I want you to understand something. It wasn't your fault. Look at me," he added, when Peter lowered his head. "It was meant to happen when it did."

"You told me you saw…" Peter whispered.

"Yes, I did," Ethan replied kindly. "I did see this place before."

"I never got to say goodbye," Peter added.

"And you think that was again, your fault?" Ethan asked. "Peter, mother told me you were near death, too. You couldn't have possibly come. I understood. Why were you feeling guilty over something you had no control over?"

Peter lowered his head. "Ethan, when I found out you were dead, it hurt so much," he said softly. "I suppose I…needed someone or something to blame for it, so I blamed myself. If I hadn't opened the door…"

"Stop it," Ethan hissed. "Just…Peter, stop it. I…"

"No, you stop it," Peter suddenly snapped, standing up. "What are you trying to do to me?"

"What?" Ethan asked, and Peter stood by the side of the tent, breathing hard.

"This hurts!" Peter hissed. "Do you know how much it does? You're dead…I'm…" he took a deep breath. "Look," he began. "I've been dropped into a freezing river, nearly clawed to death by a talking wolf, and now…well, I know what's happening now. I was given medicated soup that is now causing me to hallucinate that my best friend is standing right in front of me…he's been dead for two years! You're dead! You're not supposed to come back!"

Ethan looked startlingly calm by Peter's reaction; clearly, he'd been expecting it.

"I can't believe you're still standing there," Peter hissed. "I have to go…I can't take this." He lifted the flap of the tent, sobbing quietly, and was nearly all the way out when Aslan stood in his path. "Please let me just go," he begged. "I can't do this…"

Aslan gave him a nudge back into the tent. "Pain is a good part of the healing process, Peter. You have to face this before you are able to move on."

Peter gulped as the flap was one again closed, and he turned around, finding Ethan standing in the middle. "Are we ready to begin again?" Ethan asked as Peter fell to the ground, burying his face in his hand. He got down on his knees as well, and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Peter, you have to look at me."

"I can't," Peter gulped, and Ethan sighed.

"Yes you can. Aslan didn't choose you to be the high King of Narnia for nothing, Peter."

Peter lifted his head slowly. "I am not a hallucination first of all," Ethan promised. "Would a hallucination do this?" he took a couple pieces of fruit from a bowl on a table by the chair, and began to juggle them in different fashions. Peter stared and jumped when an apple was tossed to him. "You haven't had supper," Ethan continued. "Eat that."

"You taught me how to juggle when we were locked in the house that…that day," Peter breathed, and Ethan nodded.

"Yes. You see? You're not forgetting me." He watched as Peter took a small bite of the apple. "Now, why you're not able to interrupt me with food in your mouth…I'm going to tell you why I'm here. I am here, Peter, to encourage you."

"Encourage me?" Peter gasped.

"You are going to fight in this battle against the witch .There is no way to avoid it," he continued.

"I can't…"

"Stop that," Ethan hissed. "If you say the word can't one more time…I'm going to flip you upside down. I can do that, you know."

Peter smirked. "You always were annoying like that," he squeaked, and it was Ethan's turn to grin, and they heard Aslan laughing from outside the tent.

"Yes, well, anyway. Do you think your victory over Maugrim today was just pure luck?" he asked, and Peter started to say something else, but stopped himself. "No. You have strength hidden inside that you probably don't even realize you have. This might hurt again, Peter, but I think that is what kept you alive. I was never really as strong as you, I'll admit that."

Peter was silent, and then he suddenly spoke, "Edmund…" he began, and Ethan nodded.

"Edmund is going to be all right. I have seen him," he said, and Peter started to stand up, but Ethan made him sit again. "They have gone to search for him. Aslan will set things right tomorrow."

Peter suddenly let out a yawn, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not bored…"

Ethan laughed. "I know. You've had a long day, Peter. I will not keep you much longer."

"Ethan, I…when I came in here, I wasn't sure what I was going to expect. When I saw you, you have no idea…I've been wanting to see you again, to talk to you again for so long…I don't know what to say."

Ethan grinned. "Except I can't and that you thought I was a hallucination," he laughed.

"But what are you?" Peter asked. "You're solid…I could touch you, but you're not alive…ghosts I thought were see through…"

Ethan smiled. "I can be if I choose to be," he said. "I am an image conjured by Aslan to come and be your sort of…guardian angel, I suppose is the good word. You would not have been able to do anything to help Narnia if you did not help yourself first."

Peter bit his lip. "Why does it still hurt so much?" he asked, and Ethan took his hand.

"You will always miss me," he said softly. "and that's all right. But you can't forget to live, Peter."

Peter turned away for a moment, watching as Aslan's figure passed them by again. There was a long pause, and Ethan came to stand beside Peter again. "I must go," he said softly. "I will reappear for the last time on the morning of the battle. But for now, good night, Peter. I love you…as though you were my own brother."

Peter closed his eyes and felt Ethan squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Long Live the true King," Ethan added, and when Peter opened his eyes again, his friend was gone.

He sat in his chair for a good while, before forcing himself to stand again. He pulled open the flap of the tent, finding Aslan sitting before it, gazing into the stary sky. "Ah," the lion spoke, as he felt the boy stroke his fur. "The winds seem to be changing."

Peter let out another yawn, and the lion nudged him gently. "Go and rest, my son," he said softly. "you have had a trying day."

Peter smiled faintly. "Thank you," he said in a quiet voice, and Aslan merely blinked.

"It was what you needed, Peter," he replied, and watched as Peter made his way back to his tent.