"It helps to know you're here for me."

This bolstered Peter as well, knowing he was making a difference. The following days were a mixture of good and bad. Rain returned frequently, and Dr. Miller wanted to keep an increasingly close watch on his daughter. But Caity herself refused to be discouraged. When the Pevensies arrived on Sunday evening, she was standing on her own to greet them.

"Peter!" Lucy cried as soon as the cart was close enough to the house. She bowled into him, laugh and hugging him tightly. Close behind was Susan, Edmund, who had nearly caught Peter in height, and finally their mother.

"Oh, I've missed you so much!" Tears were already streaming down her face as she embraced him for the first time in nearly two years. Peter comforted her until she could compose herself again. "My grown up son…your father would be so proud of you right now."

"How is Dad? Nothing's happened, has it?" the thought hadn't occurred to him, not being in direct contact.

"No, no, no, he's just fine, last we heard. They've taken him off the front for the moment, though he's still somewhere in Northern Europe. They simply aren't willing to let forces return home until victory is more certain."

Peter bowed his head a little. "So, he's stuck there, even though he's supposed to be discharged before Christmas?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I'm sure he'll be alright, Peter," Caity made herself known for the first time, walking carefully up to join them.

"Everyone, this is Caity Miller. She and her dad have been boarding me for school, and…well, we really like each other," Peter announced. His hand slipped around hers at the last part. "Caity, this is my mum, Helen, and Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."

"Hello," Caity said shyly. They all returned the greeting.

"Peter's said an awful lot of nice things about you in his letters," Lucy piped up. Caity blushed and glanced Peter, who guiltily ducked again.

"Supper should be ready soon. You can meet Dr. Miller," he mumbled. Luggage was distributed to the right rooms. Caity disappeared until the meal was served. Peter didn't say anything, but he was pretty sure she was worn out from the bustle, much as she denied it.

His siblings had obviously been instructed not to ask about certain subjects. They stuck primarily to catching up, really only asking Caity questions when she was a part of Peter's stories. He wasn't sure he liked this arrangement better. Was it less painful to shut away what was still there?

Peter found it difficult to split his time between his family and being alone with Caity. A couple of picnics were made into group affairs, close to the manor. Lucy had taken very fondly to Caity despite her steadily worsening condition. Even Edmund was pleasant. But it couldn't last forever.

Caity finally had to give in the fact that she couldn't make it farther than across a room without help. Professor Kirke dug out an old wheelchair from the attic for her. Though she was grateful, she was very quiet when they set out for what Dr. Miller insisted be their last trip to the stream.

"It's not so bad," Peter tried to comfort her. "This way is much faster, and it lets you save your energy for swimming."

"That's not the problem," Caity replied sullenly. "I feel…trapped. And my knees and ankles have been aching all morning from not being able to move."

Peter bit his lip at the new development. But they both cheered up as the sun peeked out and they sat down to eat. Caity had caught hints of a surprise being in the works, but was unable to wrest further information out of Peter. Two glorious hours passed, as if nothing was amiss.

"Whew, I hadn't realized how hot it's gotten," Caity mused, fanning herself with her hat. "The stream sounds quite inviting, don't you think?"

"Whenever you're ready," said Peter. Out of courtesy, he turned away while they both slipped out of the clothes hiding their bathing suits. Then he gathered Caity into his arms, and carefully made his way down to the water. Though somewhat narrow, the stream was clear, and came up passed his waist at the center.

Caity smiled contentedly as the cool water swirled around her, making her weightless. Leaving one arm hooked around Peter's neck as an anchor, she slowly fanned the other back and forth in the current. Peter took the cue to spin her around, which made her laugh. Here, she was free again.

"I don't have to pretend anymore," she said after several minutes of water antics. Peter was half-crouching in the water now; they both floated, at eye level with each other, though not so much that Caity drifted out of his arms.

"Pretend what?"

"Narnia. I think going to Narnia is about journeying into yourself. Conquering fears, achieving dreams…learning to walk the world without forgetting how to fly. And I've found my Narnia, Peter Pevensie. Thank you." She kissed him softly.

A wave of despair suddenly washed over Peter. "I don't want to lose you. I can't." His voice cracked.

"Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen," Caity recited from Peter's own story. Unable to retort to this, he wrestled with something else he'd been meaning to say.

"Caity…I know that this wouldn't be practical, given the circumstances," he began haltingly, "but…if everything were…normal…if we had more time, would you have…married me?" The question had to be pointless now, even stupid, but he had to know what could have been. Maybe knowing he'd made the right choice would help ease the pain.

She gazed at him with those mysterious eyes, her face framed by dark, glistening hair. "It would be a comfort to leave this world knowing that we were together 'til the end."

"Don't say it that way." Tears sprang unbidden to Peter's own eyes. "You would say yes, though?"

Caity nodded. Smiling, even through the tears, Peter kissed her forehead.

She came to cherish that moment, as her condition began to decline rapidly. Picnics on the back lawn were still allowed, sometimes accompanied by games of cricket for entertainment. But all she could do was watch. Fatigue and dull aching plagued her almost constantly, and while her father enjoyed having their guests around, he almost never let her out of his sight if she was outside her room.

Soon, even that became a special rarity. First sitting, then the simple task of getting out of bed seemed impossible for Caity. Mrs. Macready, oddly enough, was suddenly quite helpful. And there was never a shortage of visitors to her room. Lucy would bring bouquets of fresh flowers, or Professor Kirke would surprise her with a good book in hand, which he would read for hours at a time. Much time was spent with her father or Peter, of course. When she wasn't sleeping.

But slowly, the days became monotonous and difficult. The local doctor checked on her from time to time, though all he could really do was give her medicine to help with the pain. Sometimes Caity would simply cry while Peter held her. This was one thing that she wouldn't afford her father if she could help it. He was already in such a state over her that she couldn't let herself cause him more grief.

One morning, she was woken up by the most frightful thing imaginable—she couldn't breathe properly. Peter arrived to find her panicking.

"Shh, it's okay, it's going to be okay…" he repeated soothingly, cradling her and rubbing her back.

"I didn't—want to know. Not like this," whimpered Caity. Her breathing was coming in gasps.

Feeling totally helpless, Peter simply hugged her to his chest. "Shh, just calm down. You'll breathe easier if you calm down. That's it…" He jumped slightly as Dr. Miller burst into the room. The disheveled man took in the scene at a glanceand missed the chair he tried to collapse in by two inches. Caity's breathing became less frenzied, her eyes closing for longer periods of time. Pain occasionally flitted across her face. This is it, Peter realized with a jolt. He could almost feel the fluttering beat of her heart growing weaker. She could die right here, in his arms. And there was no way for him to stop it.

Suddenly, Aslan burst into his thoughts. The stories! Aslan had healed people in the real world before; why not now? She believed in you from the start, even though she'd never been to Narnia. That's more than I ever did. But if it's really her time, do you think she could at least come to your country? I've never asked for anything in life, except this. Please, if you're willing…