Susan sat outside the door, resting her back on it, as she counted the seconds with the clock in the hall. She knew she should be doing more. But she just hated how she felt.

It did not seem to matter what she said to them nor did it matter how distant she was. Even as harsh as she was to Edmund, which now she was feeling guilty over, she had not gotten him to see her perspective; all she had done was hurt him.

She hated how awful that made her feel. They were abandoned in England. Why was he not angry as she was? Why did he just not understand?

After she had left her brothers, she heard Lucy return to them, and all that vibrated against the walls were their soft voices and Peter's coughing. She had heard Edmund and Lucy moving around upstairs to help him whenever it got too bad.

Eventually, the footsteps upstairs subsided, and after about an hour of no one leaving the room, Susan ventured upstairs. She had wanted to check in, maybe even offer an apology to Edmund, but found herself unable to even knock. Therefore, the next best option was to sit by the door. She did not know what exactly she was waiting for.

Would they call her name for help? For some indication that they wanted her there? Would she finally gather the courage just to walk in?

None of those things came, and that only made her feel worse.

She did care, yet after speaking with Edmund, she knew her efforts were futile. They did not see that she did love them. That was why she wanted them to stop pretending. They did not see how much she wanted them to understand her, who she was here in England. They did not understand how much she wanted them to forget Narnia too. There was only pain in that place.

Why cling onto a place that still left her with nightmares?

For that, she was no longer one of them. Right? They still acted loyal and kind to each other, but she already lost that right with her words and distance. She just wanted them to understand where they could not.

What was the point of even trying to be near them anymore?

They are your family, and they love you, her mind tried to reason, but she bitterly refused to believe it. If that was the truth, they would have accepted my decision to stop reliving Narnia. Her heart constricted in her chest because as much as all of that was true, she did not want to be alone.

Without a warning, the door behind her opened, causing her to almost fall backwards. She hastily clambered to her feet with as much grace as she could muster before facing a surprised Lucy.

Lucy merely glanced behind her at their brothers; Susan caught a glimpse of Edmund helping Peter drink some tea. Lucy reached back, closing the door behind her as she took a step into the hall.

When her attention returned to Susan, she gave her a curious look that soon shifted into one of pity.

"You do not need to sit out here," Lucy said.

Yes, I do, she thought to herself. She may have barred herself, but the idea of going in there with her siblings felt as suffocating as if her siblings had banned her from there themselves. Just merely their glowing presences were enough to shut her out.

"You are welcome next to him too."

You do not mean that, was Susan's first thought. She had to force herself to take a pause though. If there was anyone who never lied, it was Lucy.

Instead, she said, "I do not think he wants me there. Neither of them do."

Lucy crossed her arms, giving her a puzzled look. She studied her for a moment before saying, "Peter was asking for you."

"I doubt that."

"He was. He seemed awfully sad when we told him you had gone," Lucy answered gently.

"He is still mad at me, I am sure," Susan reasoned. Edmund, too, for that matter, she reminded herself. He may have had Peter to focus on, but she knew her words had hurt him too.

"It does not seem to matter," Lucy said. Susan was taken back. How could it not? Susan was the reason Peter went into the storm in the first place. To get away from her. How could it not matter? Lucy had paused, leaning in before quietly saying, "He is not well. He just wants his sister there with him."

Susan shook her head. "He already has you two taking care of him."

"He wants you too," she replied. Very softly did she add, "We all do."

That was when Susan knew it was all too much. She felt the pressure build up in her eyes. She wanted to cry right there, yet she did not know why it hurt so much to hear Lucy say those words.

Susan pulled away from her, staggering back as she did.

"I am going to put on some tea." By the way Lucy's face dropped, Susan knew she was disappointed. Again. Susan turned away, afraid of what her own face might reveal. "I will bring some up to you three when it is ready."

As quickly as she could, she disappeared down the steps.

Susan never brought them their tea. Instead, she hid away, busying herself with any task she could. After several hours, she could say that the fireplace, the kitchen, and living room were clean.

It was late in the night by the time that Susan had ventured back up to Peter's room, only after she knew that it was vacant of her other two siblings. She could not deal with them too, Edmund most of all. She just wanted to make sure Peter was all right, and then she would let them handle the rest.

She had heard the door to the bedroom that Lucy and she shared squeak closed, and she could presume Lucy had entered it. It was not long after that Edmund had come downstairs and busied himself in the kitchen.

She crept upstairs, and suddenly, she was concerned that Peter could be awake. How humiliating would it be to explain herself? He would probably ask her why she was there at all. Demand that she leave. Call for the other two. She could not handle that kind of embarrassment.

She had almost walked right back downstairs when she stopped herself right at the edge of the top step. In their quiet house, her deep breath was audible. She could not shake the nagging concern that wrapped around her stomach, pulling it in knots. It was so much stronger than her fear of humiliation

He just wants his sister there with him, Lucy's words echoed through her mind. She really did hope it was true. She wanted to be there too.

She could do this. All she was going to do was check on him. She would be in and out.

As she opened his door and went in, she felt the flush reach her cheeks in anticipation for explaining herself. Luckily, the explanation never came. Peter was lying on his side, asleep as far as she could tell.

She went over to him, reaching over and feeling his forehead. Still warm to the touch, but not nearly as feverish as it had been. She hoped that he was getting better. But they still had a while before they could be sure he would be alright.

She removed her hand from his forehead. His face was scrunched up, almost as if he was in pain. She hoped whatever was causing him pain would pass soon. Her shoulders settled when the tension left them.

He was fine enough, and therefore, her check had been successful. Edmund could handle the rest for the night.

She went back over to the door with the intention of leaving when she heard him mumbling inaudible words. She froze in her tracks. She was afraid they were directed at her.

But when she turned around, she saw that Peter was still laying down, still very much asleep. His face still scrunched in pain, and he turned his head to the side.

Nightmare, she realized after a few moments. She went over to him, not understanding a word he was saying.

"Peter," she whispered. "It is just a dream." When he still seemed distressed, she touched his arm, shaking him slightly. "You are alright. It is only a bad dream."

What she thought he was going to do was simply roll over with his nightmare subsided. What he did caught her entirely off guard.

He bolted straight up, nearly knocking heads with her. She jumped back, almost shrieking in fright. He looked panicked, backing himself away from her. When she began speaking to try to ease him, she took a step closer to him. He just shook his head, retreating back further.

"Please, don't come closer." His plea was short and harsh in his sick voice, but his tone was sharp, frightened even. Perhaps, in another instance, she would have thought it was a reflection of how he felt about her specifically. Instead, she remembered that tone.

She was awfully reminded of their time in Narnia. Reminded of the nightmares that never truly went away and the traumas that could not fully heal. It had taken him years to reduce the amount of nightmares he had of the White Witch. He still looked and sounded the same age he was with her too.

Recalling those times, she remembered that a method to get Peter out of his disorientation was to tell him where he was.

"We are in London, Peter," she said gently. "We are home." He shut his eyes. She continued with her words in hopes to remove that fear from him. "Edmund and Lucy are just down the hall. I promise, you are safe."

Safe with me, her mind finished where she could not verbally.

Only at her final words did he peek out from under his closed eyes, slowly scanning his surroundings. It took a few moments, but his shoulders eventually relaxed, and he began to take deep breaths until he seemed to calm down. He sighed, pulling his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"What was it?" She asked. Her throat was suddenly dry when she inquired, "Was it the White Witch?"

He shook his head.

"Ettins." He shivered, moving his arms to hold himself across his chest. Susan grabbed one of their spare blankets and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Thank you," he whispered.

Peter had never talked about all that happened in his northern expedition. At least, not with her. All she had known was that they had succeeded in driving back the Giants. They had only lost a small amount of soldiers in their efforts, yet when they returned home, Oreius scarcely left Peter's side for weeks, and it took Peter far too long to adjust being back at home without jumping at the slightest whim. Susan knew it had been a trying experience, but he had not opened up about it.

She had not pressed him then. He had eventually opened up about the White Witch in his own time, and she had figured this would be the same.

It was not.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He coughed briefly, opening his mouth to answer her, only to cough more. Susan fetched the glass of water from his nightstand, offering it to him. He gladly took it from her once his coughing subsided enough for him to do so. He drank slowly, and when he was done, he placed the glass on the nightstand.

"Maybe, when I feel better," Peter offered softly. His voice was hoarse and quiet from his coughs.

He could have just said the answer was never, her mind thought. She could not help the frown that reached her face. It was just going to be another thing he shut her out from.

"What is wrong?" He asked. He pulled the blanket closer to his chest.

"Nothing is wrong, Peter," she said. Her attempt at keeping her voice monotone was successful, but he did not seem to buy her lie.

"I am just confused."

"You have a fever," Susan said. She crossed her arms. "It will mess with your mind a bit."

"No, about you," he corrected. She raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Every time I have tried to talk to you, you never want to talk about Narnia with me."

"It is painful to," she answered before she could stop herself.

"It is?" He asked not unkindly.

She was immediately angry at herself for exposing herself to such vulnerability. He will just use it against me in our next argument. Then she paused. He was not like that either. He did not use confessions of trust against people, not in Narnia and not here. Still, she hated that she had been so honest, especially with his look shifting from one of uncertainty to one of sympathy.

"Of course, it is. You are still you, and I am not," she answered. He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was trying to understand. "You are still the same as you were in Narnia, and I do not want to be-" His face turned sad. "I am not- I-" Her words cut short in her throat. She looked away from him. She could not stand to see the kind of sadness that rested on his face. "You would not understand," she said bitterly.

"No, I do not think I do," he admitted after some time for thought. She still stared at the wall, not daring to look at him. "Are you angry with me because I am still me?" He said the words carefully and slowly, almost like he hardly understood them himself.

"Like I said, you do not understand."

"Explain it to me," Peter pleaded softly.

He coughed violently, doubling over in the effort. She finally looked at him, watching him struggle from illness with nothing to do to help him. His face was a flushed red color when he was finished. He drank some water from the glass on the nightstand, waiting for her to speak.

He looked at her so gently. He had not looked at her like that in a long time, and she hated it.

"There is nothing to explain to you," she said. When he kept looking at her, waiting, she snapped. "I hate being near you."

The color drained from his face, but he did not offer a rebuttal. She had thought that declaration would be enough.

"I hate that when I am with you, all you do is remind me of the pain I feel towards Narnia, and all you do is make matters worse here for me." The more the words poured out, the more she thought he looked like he might cry. "I do not want to relive my days in Narnia here. I want to make a life here without all of that." She gestured to all of him. "I just want it to stop."

He was absolutely silent. He did not move and did not make a sound. His face stabbed her heart. His eyes were wide; tears were brimming in them. Almost in defeat, he looked down at his lap, breaking eye contact. His shoulders slumped, and she did not know what to do with all of this.

"This is why I did not want to talk about it," she said. Her voice was shaky and seemingly loud in the quiet room. She got up from her seat, still waiting for some reaction from him, yet did not want to wait to see what it was. She knew her candor had been sharper than it needed to be.

He had wanted the truth, right? It was not her fault he could not accept it. She tried to convince herself of it, but she knew her words were mean.

He said nothing to her. Did not even look at her. She shook her head. She left him quickly, afraid of what his response possibility could be.