I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just check to see if is my computer will let me work every hour, between classes, while I'm supposed to be asleep, and before I get out of bed. A humongous thank you to Mozilla, whose browser I've just switched to since Internet Explorer has failed me one too many times. And apologies for the delay. It frustrated me as much as it frusted you, trust me.


"I'll start right where you two left. Thank you for that, by the way, thank you for leaving when I asked. Things could have been messy," Peter began.

"As if this isn't," Edmund murmured reprovingly, holding out the water bowl so Lucy could dip the cloth in it again. She gently cleaned away the crusted scab tissue that littered the back her eldest brother's left shoulder and tried to ignore the wincing the action earned.

"I couldn't run, but I could fight," continued Peter through gritted teeth, ignoring Edmund. "I didn't know what they were intending to do with us and I didn't want to find out. I never got a chance to pick up my shield after I'd dropped it, so it didn't take them very long to get my sword, too. I figured out they didn't want to kill me when they didn't do it right away. The bast…blighters were looking ready to head out after you two, though, and I couldn't have that, so I used my fists until they decided I was too much of a nuisance and started playing for real. I didn't last much longer after that."

Lucy and Edmund shared a look, remembering the dwarf's story.

"When I came to it was just getting to be morning. They'd tied my hands and ankles but not Susan's; I suppose they thought she was in bad enough shape that they didn't have to worry. Maybe they thought that being gentle meant being weak. In any case, she was…in a bad way but not unconscious, she managed to get the knife out of my boot and cut the ropes so I could escape. If you can believe it, she actually told me to go without her, but I wasn't about to leave her there. Unfortunately, though, she couldn't walk, so I had to carry her."

He paused here, attempting to conceal a moan of pain as Lucy swept the cloth over the tender flesh on the side of his stomach. It was a dark, sickly blue; when she tried the spot again he tensed and squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists in the blankets.

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically, but did not stop. Edmund watched the proceedings with a tight jaw and an angry line in his brow, something deep and vengeful burning in his eyes. Finally Lucy moved on from the spot to clean a shallow cut just below the back of Peter's neck and he relaxed visibly.

"So," he said hoarsely, "I was lucky. I think they'd counted on me being out for longer because there were only two guards and they were rather drowsy. I ah…"

He paused.

"Took care of them," supplied Lucy. "We've had to do a bit of it ourselves, Peter, you can say it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly. For a moment there was only the sound of the wet cloth sliding across his back and his measured breathing, then at last he resumed his tale.

"I hated to admit it, but I was barely in any shape to be wandering around the forest unarmed, much less carrying my unconscious little sister. I knew I had to find a way to get back and find help. For almost a day I just looked for any sign of life, any clue as to where the blazes I was. Finally I ended up in an old glade, more ancient than anything we've seen so far, and I think untouched by those humans that keep popping up like weeds – ouch – and there were dryads. Several of them, really elderly, female dryads. They gave me something to eat and drink, and offered to help me in whatever way they could."

Peter's eyes clouded over with a sorrowful regret, his features darkening and his head dropping to the blankets. He opened his mouth to continue but instead let out a sharp yell of surprise and pain when Lucy's fingers, coated with the herb paste, touched down on one of his nastier cuts.

"That stings!" he protested, hissing.

Lucy couldn't bear to see her brother hurting this way. She drew back uncertainly, unwilling to continue against his wishes, but suddenly the bowl was pulled from her hands by a heatedly silent Edmund. The younger of her two brothers scooped up a measure of the paste with his fingers, reached down and spread it resolutely across the gash in Peter's back.

"Ed…" he pleaded, eyes screwed shut in agony.

"Keep talking, Peter," Edmund ground out through clenched teeth. Suddenly Lucy found that she was a bit afraid of him. Even though his hands moved firmly and gently over Peter's back, there was a terrible anger in his eyes, mingled with something almost like shame, and it was discomforting. Peter pushed his head further into the bed and spoke again, slightly muffled by the material.

"I had no choice," he said; his tone was hollow and choked around the edges. "I left Susan with the dryads. They said they could take care of her until I found a way back, and I knew I needed to get help before something worse happened."

He stopped, his voice breaking just a little. Lucy swallowed hard, wanting to offer him some sort of comfort but unsure of how to do it without hurting him. Peter bit his lip and let out a shuddering sigh of agony when Edmund lined the raw skin of his shoulder with the paste. The two younger Pevensies gave their brother's back a long, concerned and appraising look before each took a hold of one of his arms and helped him to gingerly turn himself over. Lucy picked up the water bowl, Ed the cloth, and together they began to clean the dried blood and scabs from his chest. Closing his eyes, Peter frowned unhappily and continued speaking.

"Apparently the dryads also spread the word that I was out and about, because Carrul and his companions found me later that night. I told them they needed to call up the army. But they already knew, they'd found my shield and Susan's bow surrounded by numerous dead bodies along with the obvious signs of a struggle, and were able to connect two and two. We were just heading to this camp when we saw the fire – it was set, of course – and you. The rest I think you know."

He opened his eyes in time to see his siblings nod in acknowledgement. Several long moments passed, silent except for the splish of the cloth into the water and an occasional sign of discomfort from Peter as he allowed Lucy and Edmund to cleanse his injuries. After a time the former glanced at her oldest brother's face, then did a double-take when she thought she saw the glistening of tears in his blue eyes. Determinedly, he looked anywhere but at her, gaze wandering to the top of the tent. She stayed kneeling, unmoving and feeling quite awkward.

"Peter?" she asked finally, a fearful tremble in her voice. Edmund looked up sharply, caught by the waver in his sister's question. For a moment, Peter didn't answer, but when he did his words were thick with emotion.

"I've been a horrible brother," he whispered. Lucy knew that if it had been a storybook moment, she would have slapped him, but understanding that it was probably the last thing he needed, she bit her tongue instead.

"Shut up, Peter," said Edmund succinctly. There was a short, tense silence.

"I never should have brought you all along. It's too dangerous. Now Susan is in the hands of peace-loving, unarmed dryads while murderers roam the forests unchecked. I let it happen."

"Shut up, Peter," said Lucy, reaching down to lift one of his chafed wrists. He twitched as she began to wash the dirt from the burns.

"That's not exactly comforting," he said, but there was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

"No," agreed Edmund, "but it's a good deal more sensible than you're being. Hold still."

He applied a small amount of herb paste to a scratch that traveled from Peter's throat to his navel as his brother squirmed.

"Tickles," muttered Peter defensively. "And hurts."

Finally, Lucy was satisfied with their work. Peter's torso was still covered in bruises and cuts, but there was no risk of infection now, and the cold water might help to keep the swelling down. She wrung the linen cloth out, then set it down and helped him sit up. Edmund handed him his tunic, which he pulled over his head thankfully, but the younger wasn't finished yet. He forcibly seized Peter's chin and grabbed the cloth again, quickly cleaning the cut along his brother's jaw with a furious concentration. Peter eyed the motion with a sort of surprised indignity, but when Edmund's hand slid from his face to wrap around his shoulders in a gentle hug, he relaxed, smiled and ruffled Ed's dark hair affectionately. When he pulled away he next turned to Lucy, who kissed his cheek.

"If you ever tell us you've been a horrible brother again, we'll have to change your title to King Peter the Untruthful," she joked. Peter laughed and Edmund smiled wryly.

"Thank you," said Peter quietly, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at the pop that sounded.

"And now we find Susan," Lucy said. Her eldest brother smiled fondly.

"Yes," he agreed. "Now we find Susan."