Greetings! Delivered fresh for your reading enjoyment, the Fifth Chapter! Please show your appreciation by reviewing. I always get excited about writing when I see review notices in my inbox.

Disclaimer: I am merely borrowing C. S. Lewis' charming characters and world, and will eventually return them. The only thing that is mine is the plot.

Disclaimer 2: If this story in any way resembles any other fanfiction it is by complete accident, as I go out of my way to avoid fanfictions that resemble mine until mine are completed. My apologies to any other great minds.

Author's note: This story is set pre-, during- and post- The Last Battle. I am a first time fanfiction writer and any reviews are appreciated.

Chapter five: Secrets and Lies

Peter woke stiff and aching all over. His alarm clock was loudly ringing at the usual time, 6:15. He opened one eye and glared balefully at the clock. He reached out an arm and turned the alarm off, and rolled over, thinking. He hated missing classes, but he thought that his taking a violent criminal off of the streets during a furious battle for his life had earned him a day off. He could always catch up later. Almost before he finished the thought, Peter had fallen back asleep.

Several hours later, Peter finally woke up for good. Still bloody and in pain, he made himself get dressed, then staggered out of the dormitory and over to the nurse's office on campus. The kindly but stern woman took one look at Peter and said briskly, "You've been fighting. Well, get on the table! If you want my help, you had better be able to do some things for yourself." Peter stripped off his shirt and sat on the examination table that held court in the middle of the room. The nurse's brisk nature faded into something more sympathetic once she saw the still untreated knife wounds on Peter's body. All told there were five slashes of varying depths decorating the young man's back, one fairly deep cut on his left arm and one on his left leg from the gang fight and what was not cut and bleeding was bruised.

"Good heaven's young man! Were you mugged? If it were a fight, I certainly hope you gave as good as you got." The nurse's voice was dismayed. "With wounds like these, I have to report this to the dean."

"Must you?" asked Peter, dismayed. He was hoping to have to explain the situation to as few people as possible.

"I'm sorry," said the nurse. "It was obviously a fight, and a bad one at that. I'm obliged to have the school authorities brought into the case. Stay here. I need to send a message to the dean's office."

She left the examination room and Peter was left sitting on the table in just his trousers. She came back after a couple of minutes, and started cleaning and bandaging the wounds and putting ointment on the bruises. Peter took the pain with little more than a few harsh breaths and a good deal of teeth gritting. By the time it was over the assistant dean had arrived, clipboard in hand, to hear Peter's story, and to find out if there was anything legal that he would be required to do. The assistant dean was a stern, curt man, but less sympathetic than the nurse. At first he was highly skeptical of Peter's claim of fighting off a gang of thugs in defense of a beautiful girl, and then single-handedly fighting and killing a dangerous criminal. It took many tellings of the story and an offer to call the police and confirm Peter's tale before the man would believe him. Peter couldn't really blame the man for thinking that his story was a little unrealistic - he had a hard time believing it himself. But, unrealistic or not, it had happened and Peter had the battle wounds to prove it.

"Please, sir," Peter asked the assistant dean. "Don't tell anyone it was me that killed Conroy. I think that it would make some of the other students nervous, and I would rather nobody knows."

"But, my boy, you're a hero! Don't you want the credit for doing such a great favor to your country?" The assistant dean seemed astounded that Peter wasn't milking the story for all it was worth.

"I'd really rather nobody knew," Peter repeated, firmly.

The assistant dean gave a great sigh. "Well, if you are sure you don't want me to tell, then I won't." He seemed highly disappointed not to be able to spread the news around campus. "At any rate, you are excused from classes for today and tomorrow. You really should rest and heal."

The assistant dean left, Peter put his shirt back on, thanked the nurse and left the building. He thought about going back to his room and sleeping some more, but felt too restless to do that. His feet turned toward Shopkeep Lane almost without his directing them. He really should see if Leona was doing all right.

The little bell on the door of Marker's Bakery gave a cheery tinkle as Peter opened the door and went inside. The owner, a Mr. Leonard Marker, was behind the counter, putting another batch of bread on display.

"Is Leona here yet?" Peter asked.

The man looked up at Peter and smiled. "No, lad. Leona doesn't start work for another half hour or so. Did you need to talk to her?"

"I just wanted to see how she was doing," Peter said with a small shrug. His back and shoulders were still sore even with the pain medication the nurse had given him. "Do you mind if I wait for her? I had better ask too if you mind my coming to see her when she is working?"

Mr. Marker shook his head. "No, I don't mind. You aren't disruptive and Leona doesn't let her work suffer from your visits. She's a good girl."

Peter took his usual seat at the small table by the large front window. "How long have you known Leona, sir?"

Mr. Marker looked up at Peter, with an almost wary look in his eye. "Almost three months - why do you ask?"

"If you don't feel comfortable talking to me about her, I understand." Peter made a calming gesture with his hand. "It's just that I realized last night that I've come to care about her quite a bit, but I don't really know anything about her past. Don't worry, I intend to ask her about it, too. She just confuses me sometimes..." Peter trailed off.

Mr. Marker stopped looking wary and gave a broad grin. "Fallen in love, have you, my lad? She is a good girl to love, and I know what it is like to be confused by a fine lady! My Catherine confused me every day since I met her, and I am wed to her to this day. I'll tell you what little I know of Leona. Some of it she may not want to tell you yet, but I feel a fellow needs all the help he can get when it comes to understanding the woman he loves." Mr. Marker sat down opposite Peter.

"I first heard about Leona about the middle of July. My younger brother is a preacher in a church on the other side of London. Apparently, he found this woman sleeping on a pew in the church one day, with nothing but the clothes on her back. She gave him her name, but wouldn't say where she was from or why she was there. He gave her name to the police station in case she was missing from her family, but nothing came of it. She was obviously of good family and she carried herself well, but she would never answer questions. Oh, she was never rude about refusing to tell people about herself, but she always seemed like she was trying to leave something behind. Not running really, just leaving something behind her. She stayed at the church for a week or so then started looking for work. My brother knew that I was looking for a worker, ever since my son left as a soldier, so he sent her to me. She was a very competent worker, poised and good with people, so I hired her. I haven't regretted it since."

Peter was enthralled. "What do you think happened to her?"

Mr. Marker sighed. "I don't know. She never told me. I asked her from the start if there was somebody chasing her or if she was in trouble with someone, but she said that there wasn't. She's never told me a lie, so I believe her. If you ask me what I think, and mind you this is only a guess, she ran away from somewhere. With the war over, soldiers' coming back changing things, I think that maybe she had a bad situation at home. Or she could have been in an area that was badly hit during the bombings. People got crazy in places like that, she could have seen anything or had anything happen to her. I've never really asked. She has a right to her privacy, and I almost feel bad for telling you what I know. But, I can tell you really care about her, and you know that if you use what I've told you to hurt her, I will rip you into so many pieces the police won't be able to identify your body." This last was said with a chilling sincerity, and a straight face.

Peter gave a small smile back at the man. "If I use what you told me to hurt her, I'll deserve it."

The little bell tinkled again and Leona came in with a gust of chill air. "Good morning, Mr. Marker! I'm a little early, I thought it would take me longer to get here, but it didn't... Peter! What are you doing here so early, don't you have classes?" She came inside and set her bag down behind the counter, and started taking her coat off.

"The assistant dean gave me the day off in light of my activities yesterday," Peter told her. He squared his shoulders and stood up. He had told Mr. Marker that he was going to take any questions he had to Leona, and he had meant it. "Leona, since you are early, would you mind walking with me for a bit?"

She looked a little uncomfortable and nervous, but obligingly put her coat back on and left the bakery with Peter.

"What did you want to talk about?" Leona asked quietly as they strolled along Shopkeep Lane.

Peter told her what he had learned from Mr. Marker. "Please don't be angry with him for telling me, I did ask about your past, and I am glad he told me. If you like I'll take any questions I have straight to you."

Leona didn't reply at first, but bit her lower lip, deep in thought. Suddenly she stopped and turned to Peter but still didn't meet his eyes. "I won't be able to tell you much, not now at any rate. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't. You will understand why when the time comes and I can answer any questions you may have. But in the meantime, can you take that? Can you stand being with me, knowing that there are things about me that you don't know?"

Peter gave a rather annoyed sigh. "Why can't you tell me? Are you a spy or something? Or do you just feel that you can't talk about painful things?" He was getting frustrated with her obsession with secrets, and not letting people get too close.

Leona laughed. "If I was a spy, I could hardly tell you! But, I can truthfully tell you that I am not a spy in His Majesty's service, or in anyone else's here on God's green earth. The only person I work for is Mr. Marker. But still..." She finally looked up and met Peter's eyes. "Can you pull back and not press me, if I refuse to tell you something that you want to know? I haven't known you for very long, and I am a very private person. Some of the things you may ask about are not my secrets to tell. Can you trust that I have good reason for keeping things from you? Even small things that seem harmless?"

Peter stopped and thought for a minute. There were parts of his life that he could not share either, such as the fact that, for decades, he had ruled a country that could only be gotten into by the will of a talking Lion. But if she had known the right questions to ask and had outright asked him, could he talk? He had kept his own secrets for so long, and for such a good reason. Was it hypocritical to keep his own secrets and still expect to know hers? Could he do as she wanted? He was a man used to getting what he felt he needed, a leftover from being High King of Narnia. Could he be satisfied with just what she was willing to tell him? Could he stand back and let her avoid his questioning? Did he want to? Were the trouble and unsatisfied curiosity she inspired worth the pleasure of her company? All in all, was loving Leona worth not knowing everything about her? Could he love her without knowing about her past? Then, in a flash of insight, Peter realized something. He already knew Leona, he knew the part of her that was HER, the very essence of her personality and character. He knew what she believed, how she felt about things. What he wanted from her past were just facts, things that did form who she was, but were not necessary in order to understand her, and love her.

Peter came to a decision. "Can you promise me that you will never outright lie to me, and if you must mislead me it will not be in a way that will cause damage or pain?" he asked.

Leona nodded. "Anything I tell you will be the truth, maybe not all of it sometimes, but it will be the truth and should not mislead you too wildly. Will you promise me the same?"

Peter also nodded. "I promise. I can live with that for now. There may be room for secrets in a relationship, but not for lies.(1)" He reached for her hand. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. "Then for my first question, is there anyone I need to talk to for permission to court you?"

Leona gave a bright smile, and shook her head. "I've been wondering when you would ask, and rather hoping for it. No, there is just me, unless you want to ask Prowler the cat."

"In that case," Peter said, giving a courtly bow. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to take you to dinner and a dance Sunday night?"

She sank into a curtsy in response. "It would be a pleasure, Peter." After both of them rose to their usual positions, Leona said, "You are an amazing man, Peter Pevensie. Not many people could agree to let subjects drop, on the order of a woman."

"That doesn't mean I'm not still curious," Peter replied with a smile. "You are quite the mystery, Leona. Every time I think I have you figured out, something happens and you surprise me again."

Leona gave Peter an impish smile. "Of course I'm mysterious, I am a woman! But, all people are like that. Humans are not one-sided creatures; we are more like many-faceted jewels. Not all of the facets are visible at once, and just because you haven't seen a certain side of the jewel or the person, doesn't mean it wasn't there all along. You are the same way, Peter, but that doesn't mean I can't see myself falling head over heels in love with you, no matter how much about you I know." She stopped and blushed hotly, as though she hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.

Peter smiled back, delighted at her slip, but willing not to press her about it just yet. "So what you wanted to know, was if I was willing to see the sides of you that you are willing for me to see, instead of trying to examine the diamond that is you myself."

Leona nodded. "That's as good of a way of looking at it as any." She looked down at her watch. "Oh, good heavens! I'm late for work!"

Peter laughed heartily. "I'm sure Mr. Marker won't mind, but we can hurry back." Arm in arm, they briskly walked back to the bakery. Even though the day was cold, Peter felt warm clear through. He might not be able to satisfy every aspect of his curiosity about the girl on his arm, but then again, for now he didn't need to.

TBC...

(1)Outlander by Diana Gabaldon.

Author's note for chapter: I am sorry, I promised some fluff to people and this chapter isn't really very fluffy. I tried, I really did. Next chapter will be romantic and kinda fluffy, and should be out in about a week or so. Don't forget to review and yell at me for keeping Leona such a mystery to everyone, including Peter!