"After a bit, Susan came down from the tree. She and Peter felt pretty shaky when they met and I won't say there wasn't kissing and crying on both sides. But in Narnia no one thinks any worse of you for that." The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Helen Pevensie pulled her dressing gown close around her and bit her lip as she looked at her sleeping husband. How? How could she tell him? He would be terribly angry, and the thought of his anger doubled her nausea. Maybe she could lay back down and convince herself she was dreaming, sleepwalking. A flash of an image, two young bodies twined together on the narrow bed flashed through her mind. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, forcing herself not to be sick, but she couldn't contain a gag.
David awoke, and he frowned when he saw her. "Helen, what are you doing there? Are you sick?"
She pressed both hands to her mouth and shook her head.
"You look sick," he observed rather tiredly, sagging against the pillows.
She couldn't move. She couldn't move and she couldn't speak. She knew she had to tell him, but she couldn't.
He realized there was something wrong, and he sat up. "Whatever it is, Helen, tell me, and tell me quick. Is it the children? Are they alright?"
She could only shake her head.
"Is it Lucy? Is she sick? Is Edmund alright? Tell me now."
He was truly alarmed, but he guessed wrongly. Of course no one would ever guess that some mishap with the children could involve their two eldest. They were the steadiest, most responsible…She closed her eyes and said it as fast as she could. She tried not to listen to herself as she spoke. "It's Susan. And Peter. I went down the hall to the toilet and I found them in Peter's room. They were laying together on his bed with—with their arms around each other." She saw that he was about to speak, but she put up a hand to stop him. She had to get this all out in one breath. "She was saying 'Don't ever leave me, Peter. I love you. I couldn't survive without you.' "
David's eyes widened. "What did he do?" he asked in a dangerous voice.
She faltered a bit when she heard his tone of voice. "He—he promised he wouldn't. He said he loved her and he—he had his hands on her. He kissed her."
Before she finished speaking he had leapt out of bed and stuffed his arms in his dressing gown. "Where are they? This must be dealt with right now."
"I sent them down to the study so you could talk to them," she said in a rushed whisper. She was staring at the floor as he brushed passed her. She didn't want to know anymore, but he turned on the threshold. "Let's go, Helen. We must do something about this."
She let her arms go limp as she turned to follow him downstairs. He wound himself up to a lecture the whole way down. Though she tried not to listen she couldn't help hear certain phrases "Disgusting…unnatural…never would have thought it of them…beat it out of them if I have to…" She didn't want to agree, but she had to. Where did her best children go wrong?
Peter was laughing. The sound of it rang out across the garden, and she smiled because he was so happy. She liked to think that she had something to do with it. She leaned back against her husband, breathing in his scent. When he pulled her close she could feel his heart beating, and his laugh boomed and echoed in his chest. She closed her eyes, and he bent over her and kissed her.
When she opened them, Peter was standing before her holding her son high above his head. Dashiel was laughing his bright baby laugh and squirming gleefully. He reached for Peter's face with his chubby little hand, and the High King looked positively delighted. Yet the smile he wore grew when he saw his wife by his side. Amelia was already big with child, yet she moved with a stately, motherly grace. Peter brought Dash close to his body and held the baby with one arm. He wound the other around his wife's waist and kissed her, fairly radiating love and joy.
Her husband pulled her tighter, and he said in her ear "They certainly are happy, those two."
She reached her hand behind her to stroke his beard. "As are we, my love."
"Mm," he murmured lowly in agreement, and he kissed her temple, her neck, her cheek, and at last, he turned her chin toward him and kissed her mouth. She could taste his mouth, but when she opened her eyes she found herself staring into the thick dark of her English bedroom. She could still feel Erech's mouth on hers even though he was not there. In the next bed, Lucy sighed and turned in her sleep, sounds which solidified Susan's awful reality. She leapt from bed as if she were going to be sick and bolted for the hall. She leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She tried to swallow her sobs. If Lucy heard she would wake up and try to comfort her with thoughts of Aslan, but that was exactly what Susan couldn't bear. She needed someone who would understand. She went down the hall a little bit and pushed Peter's door open.
He was facing the doorway, the peace of sleep relaxing his features. She noticed, though, that the line which appeared on the inside of his eyebrow when he was troubled was there now. Just looking at him gave her some comfort, and she padded quietly into the room and slipped into bed beside him.
When he felt her weight beside him he shifted and asked blearily, "Amelia?"
He was asking for his wife. He still expected to share his bed with her, as she expected to share her life with Erech. Only they had all been ripped apart by a wrong turn at a lamppost, and now Erech and Amelia had been dead for a thousand years while she was a girl and Peter a boy again. She couldn't stop her sobs now, though she tried to weep silently.
She didn't know if Peter felt her shaking or heard her crying, but he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Su?" he asked bemusedly. "What's wrong?"
She hadn't meant for him to wake up, really. She just wanted to feel that he was close, that he understood. And she certainly didn't want him to see her cry. She couldn't seem to stop now, though. She covered her face with her hands to try and hide it. "Sorry," she mumbled.
Peter turned to look at her more carefully. "You're crying," he observed. "What's wrong?"
She couldn't speak for a minute, and he put his head on the pillow to watch her face. She tried in vain to compose herself, managing only to say "I dreamt about Erech."
She was right. Peter understood at once. He made a soft noise of sympathy and brushed the hair off her face. She rolled off her back and onto her side so she could hide her face against his pajama top, clutching the fabric of it in her hands. She wiped her eyes on the fabric and apologized again.
When Peter spoke his voice was very quiet, and she knew he was trying not to sound as though he was about to cry. "Don't be sorry. I know." He held her tightly, and she clung to her last comfort and let herself cry. He cradled her head and held her with all the comfort he knew how to give, but she also felt him draw in a shaky breath. He was very close to tears. Seeing Peter grieving so made her sadder than ever, and she shook in his arms, utterly miserable.
"I want him back" she said in a small voice.
"I know. I know."
"It's not fair," she insisted. "I think of Amelia…It's not fair, Peter!"
He shuddered. "Don't. I can't take it."
She didn't want to make him ache too. She bit hard on her lip, scrunching up her face, trying to hold it all in.
Peter saw her pain, and his voice was gentler. "I'm sorry. You came to me to cry and I… It's so hard for me to talk about her, though. I miss her all the time."
Susan saw Amelia in her mind's eye. Her dear friend. Her other sister. "So do I," she agreed thickly. Then with the picture of Amelia she saw all of them. She hiccupped as she spoke, breathing spasmodically. "And Dash, and Edina, and…and Lucien…and Susannah…and all of them."
She saw a brief glimpse of the grief in Peter's eyes when she mentioned his children before he covered his face. She buried her face against Peter's neck, sharing in his grief. Hot tears trickled from her eyes and she shuddered at the thought of her lost family, who she loved so well and so wholly. Peter seemed to recover a little in giving her comfort, at least enough to hold her tightly and repeat "Su, it's alright. It's alright," even if his voice was heavy.
"It's not," she said. "It's not alright to do this to us. I don't understand…"
When she drew back a little she saw that Peter had set his jaw as he always did when he was feeling something very deeply but wanted to appear stoic and strong. "I don't either, but there's got to be a reason. I just don't know what it is, or how to find out."
His strength dissolved her tears a little. She looked up at him and sniffed, all gratitude for a brother she could depend on like Peter.
He kissed her forehead. "We'll figure out something," he said rather vaguely. "We have each other. Now that will have to be enough."
She looked up at him numbly and nodded a very little bit. Then, seeing his hazel eyes so full of emotion but the rest of his face set gave her a rush of affection. She hugged him tightly. "Oh, I'm glad I have you, Peter."
He looked very touched, and he rubbed her back. "We've gotten each other through a lot before. We'll just have to do so now." Susan sniffed, but he pressed on. "Promise me you'll stay with me, Susan."
"I will," she said with conviction. "I'll never leave you. I promise." Then he held her and she clung to him for a minute as if all they had in the world was each other. This wasn't strictly true, and Susan would realize that in the morning. For the moment though, she let herself hold on more tightly than she would have otherwise dared.
After a minute or two, Peter sniffed and said, "At least we have our memories. Come on, tell me about something you remember. We can be happy that way for a little while."
"It's all…it's all getting hazy," Susan faltered. "Some days I can barely see them." She concentrated hard, though, and finally came up with something concrete, something beyond vague but strong impressions of love. "I remember Dashiel's black hair. And Edina's hair was brown…chestnut brown." Peter was searching her face now, his eyes willing her to remember. She thought harder. "I remember Erech's scent. Bonfire smoke, and something sweet, like jam." She raised her eyes and saw a smile on Peter's face. Still, she had to confess to him. "But sometimes I try to picture his face, and I can't."
"Don't you remember his voice? I always hear his voice," Peter said, rubbing her arm a little.
She smiled a sad, tiny smile. "Sometimes. What do you hear him saying?"
"Anything really. Sometimes when I'm in class and there are all those brownnosing boys, I think of what he would say about them. He's like…a barometer, reminding me to be true to myself."
Susan thought of the honest, frank man she had married, and she couldn't bear to talk about him anymore. Her lips trembled and she spoke quickly to hide this. "What about you? What do you remember?"
"Everything," he answered at once.
She was surprised he could remember so clearly when everything seemed to be slipping away from her. "Really?" she asked, looking at him with careful awe.
"Every detail. It hurts, but I can see her right now," he answered, and his eyes looked past her into a dark corner of his room where presumably he could see his wife. "Her hair was thick and soft and heavy when I held it in my hands." Just this one memory was enough to make Susan's lip wobble, but she looked down. She didn't want him to see her cry, she wanted to hear him. She wanted to know that he could hold onto memories for the both of them. She saw a tear drip onto the pillow, and she knew it wasn't hers. "Her voice is so soothing, like hearing a babbling brook on a hot day or music coming from another room. I can hear her singing to Lucien, and I can feel Susannah in my arms, and her smile and how it felt when she kissed me…what it was like to hold her in my arms—"
She couldn't bear anymore. She broke down again, moaning "Oh God…Oh Aslan," and this time Peter cried just as hard as she did.
"I can't bear the weight of all these memories, but I can't let them go," he said.
She wiped her face with her hand, rubbing up and down. "I don't know how else to go on," she confessed in a whisper.
He took hold of her wrists. "Don't forget, Su. Don't. That would break his heart."
"But he's already dead, Peter…he's gone. He died so long ago. And I wasn't with him. His heart broke over a thousand years ago." Her voice started to grow hard and bitter.
"But…don't you believe that there's something beyond this? There must be," Peter ventured, and for a second he sounded like Lucy.
She couldn't look at him when she said "I don't see how there can be. I stopped believing in heaven a long time ago." Her voice, though, remained low with anger. "No loving God could hurt us so badly."
"No, Su. No. There's got to be a heaven," Peter insisted, sounding grieved. "I hold on to that, because if there is then we'll all be together again. And maybe they're watching us right now."
Susan shook her head, rubbing her face on her brother's chest, scratching her face against the rough fabric of his pajamas. He wrapped his arms around her again, offering words of comfort. "Shh. It's alright, Susan. I'm here."
"I love you, Peter," she said brokenly. "You're always there, no matter what. I don't know what I would do if you weren't."
He smoothed the hair off her face and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry. I always will be. Always."
She felt so fragile. All her safety, every delicate thread holding her together was wrapped up in Peter. He knew. He felt what she felt and he still believed. If she could cling to him, lean on him, perhaps she would be alright. She needed him and this knowledge prompted her to say. "I would die if you left me."
She knew what he would say even before he said it. "I won't, Su. I won't," in his clear, sure voice.
"You—all of you—you're all I have left," she said, looking up at him. She clutched the fabric of his pajamas in her fists again.
He moved to kiss her cheek again, but suddenly the door opened and light from the hallway flooded in. Susan registered the change in light before she heard her mother cry, "Susan! What are you doing?"
She was so startled she jumped up to face her mother. Her voice was shaky though she wasn't really aware of why her mother should speak so sharply. "Mum? What…what are you doing out of bed?" she faltered.
Her mother turned pale and shook as her daughter did. "I asked you a question, young lady," she said, trying to sound stern.
Susan glanced at Peter, hoping that he would help her find words. "I…I…"
Peter swung his legs around and sat up. "Mum, calm down. It's not what you think," he said with authority.
Their mother put her hands on her hips. "And what do I think?"
Peter returned this with a wry look, but Susan's eyes shuttled back and forth between them. She wondered herself what Peter could mean.
Helen didn't argue with her son. She merely made a pronounced "Downstairs. To the study. Both of you," in clipped tones. Then she added the decision which made Susan shake a little on the inside. "Your father will have a thing or two to say about this." She waited on the threshold for the two of them to file out. Susan gave Peter a helpless glance and meekly did as she was told. She could hear him behind her.
Susan stared glumly at the carpet as she went down the stairs. She was afraid without really being sure why. She felt guilty because of her mother's stare, not because she thought she had done anything wrong. Peter took her hand and inquired gently "Su?"
She squeezed his hand and glanced at him as he opened the door of the study. "Peter, what…does she think?"
His face closed off. "You know," he said crisply. "What people have thought before. About us."
She let go of his hand abruptly. "Oh God."
"Su, don't do that," he said. His voice was gentle now, and he actually looked a little hurt. "You and I know it's not true. That's all that matters." He took her hand again.
"Stop it!" she cried, shaking him off. "You'll make it worse!" She went to sit in the leather armchair, shaking.
Peter's eyes flashed. "There's nothing to be made worse! We didn't do anything wrong!" he insisted.
"I know! I know…but…" she put her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry. Peter didn't say anything. He stood beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. His grip tightened a bit as they heard their father speaking loudly upstairs. Susan looked up at the ceiling, frightened.
"You stick by me," Peter said surely. "We didn't do anything wrong."
"I know we didn't." She bit her lip. "But Dad sounds really angry."
Peter set his jaw stubbornly. "And what if he is? I won't let anyone—anyone—tell me how to love. I've already learned. I know."
She nodded and wiped a single tear away. Her face was very white. She wanted to be as brave as Peter, but she didn't know if she could, not when each of their father's footsteps on the stairs sounded like a judgment against her.
He bent to kiss her cheek and kept his face close to hers. "It's you and me, Susan. Stay close to me, and don't give up."
She gained a little courage from these words, and though she gave him a scared look, she also squeezed his hand. Then she had to push him gently away from her. She could hear their father at the door.
A/N: Yes, yes, we know Lewis didn't say anything about them getting married and having kids, but he never ruled out the possibility either. For more info on this, see our profile. And if you're curious about Erech and Susan and their kids Dashiel and Edina or Peter and Amelia and their children Susannah and Lucien, we have plenty of info on them as well and would be happy to post a story on them. Erech and Amelia are fab--even if we are biased.