A/N: OKAY, well, I lied. Yes, I admit it, I did lie. I told you this would be the last chapter of "To war" and that is a lie. Because it isn't the last chapter. Nope, I have moreAnd I didn't get to the whole reason for Peter's leg problems in this chapter either. The curse of an overactive imagination/brain… I just can't stop writing! I hope you enjoy it!! (Actually, you can blame Phoenixqueen too, because SHEEEE suggested I continue this through the first term at their school…)

Part Twenty-five

"You…no feeling? None at all?" Edmund stared at the top of Peter's head, since the elder boy was looking down, carefully controlling his breathing and trying very hard not to panic.

Without waiting for an answer, Edmund made a quick decision and pulled Peter's right arm over his shoulder. Gesturing toward the bench, he said over the roar of the fast-moving express train, "Let's move over there and we'll figure this out, Peter."

The Just King was acutely aware that the four children were beginning to become a subject of curious stares from passersby, and he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention to their plight.

Holding tightly to Edmund, Peter nodded and managed to hobble to the bench.

At least he's not wincing, Edmund thought to himself. So he isn't in any pain. That's something we have going for us.

Lowering Peter to the bench surface, he sat beside him and Susan perched on Peter's other side. She gripped his hand and lightly rubbed it. "Peter, tell us - what's wrong?"

Looking at her through his fringe, the blonde sighed. It would be too hard to explain everything with the express train buzzing past, but he could tell them something. "There isn't any feeling in my right leg," he said, pinching it hard it to prove his point. "The left is fine, but the right feels like they both did when I lost feeling in Narnia. I'm not sure why it suddenly started."

He had an inkling that it was what Aslan had warned him of, though he didn't voice that out loud. It wouldn't do to let his siblings know that something worse could happen if his leg were better. At least, he thought that was what the great lion meant. It was still too early to tell if this was actually the challenge, or if this was just his unfortunate lot in life.

Lucy, squatting before her brother, shook her head. "I don't get it, Peter, you were fine in Narnia. Why in the world would this happen the moment we set foot back in England?"

Peter frowned. "I don't know, Lu. Everything about Narnia is so magical, there isn't always an explanation for things that happen."

From his left, Susan shook her head. "Perhaps we should get you to a hospital, Peter," she said with a frown of her own. "I mean, what if this is just the beginning? It could get worse."

But before she had even finished his name, Peter had been shaking his head from side to side. "No way, Susan," he said firmly. "I'm going to school. We can deal with it there. A hospital would ask far more questions than the school nurse, who might contact Mum, which would be bad enough, but not as bad as what a hospital could do."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but the din in the station increased again and Peter looked past Lucy as the express disappeared and another train, this one traveling much slower, approached the tracks. "That's us," he said. "Ed, help?"

His brother was strong, but with Peter's leg completely useless and acting as quite a bit of dead weight, it was difficult to lever him to his feet. From a nearby subway entrance, an elderly man frowned at the young boy trying to tug the older boy to his feet.

He eyed the makeshift crutch he held.

Then eyed the boy.

Then began to hobble over.

"Excuse me, lads," he said, startling the younger boy, who proceeded to release his hold on the blonde-haired boy. With a yelp, Peter hit the bench with a wince, which turned quickly into a glare directed at his immediately sheepish brother.

Both then turned their gazes on the man who had spoken and who was looking at them with a small smile of amusement on his face.

"Seems to me, you are having a wee bit of trouble, laddie," the man said to Peter. "Reminds me o' some o' the boys in the war. Cases of paralysis, where they'd have dead legs that weren't good for anything."

He looked pointedly at Peter's right leg, which the young man was holding lightly for no real reason other than it was on his mind. He didn't even know he was holding it until he followed the man's gaze.

"Oh, um," he stammered. "Yes, I…see…" He trailed off, at a loss for words.

But the old man was shrewd. "War wound? Ye look old enough, though just barely." At Peter's light nod, he thrust out his hand with the crutch. "Here, take this. I live close enough to walk without it for a time, just take me a bit longer, I reckon."

When Peter made no move to take it, the man held it a little closer. "C'mon laddie, I've been using this here crutch since I took my wound in the first Great War, bout time I got me a new one."

Gulping, Peter eyed the crutch as if it meant defeat. "I couldn't take that, sir," he said. "You might live close, but I couldn't leave you with nothing to help you home. I wouldn't feel right about it."

Drawing himself up, the man shook his head, hand still outstretched. "I won't take no for an answer, young 'un," he said. "Either you take this here crutch, or I leave it here. Be a right waste if I left it in this old station and no one took it."

Sighing shakily, Peter took the proffered crutch and met the man's eyes. When the old veteran didn't move, he sighed again and set the crutch under his right arm, leaned forward, and managed to shakily rise to standing.

He had to lean over more, since the old man was shorter than he was, but the crutch would make getting around a whole lot easier.

Breaking into a toothy grin, the man lightly smacked Peter on the shoulder. "That's a lad," he said. "Don't have to go crushing that young man over there, now do you?"

Edmund chuckled at that, but stopped at the glare he got from his sisters. Peter only shook his head with a fond smile before turning to the man. "Can I compensate you, sir?" he asked, though he knew he had no spare money at the moment. "We could send you repayment in the mail…"

The veteran waved his hand. "No, no, lad," he said. "This one's on me. Consider it a small payment for services rendered," he said. "I reckon soldiers who have to live with a permanent disability deserve small favors."

His tone was slightly wistful and Peter wondered if he got any small favors. Even if he did, Peter vowed the next time he was nearby, he'd do his best to see to it the old man got something. Even if it was only a visit.

"Can I at least have the name of my benefactor," he said, inadvertently channeling King Peter the Magnificent during a day of court.

Chuckling, the man nodded. "Name's Petty Officer Custis Dunkirk. Former member of the Queen's Navy. And you, young man? What's your moniker?"

Thrusting out his hand, Peter said with a smile, "Corporal Peter Pevensie, sir. Former member of the Queen's Army." The two veterans shook hands and then the old man was slowly moving off, leaving the Pevensies to marvel at the generosity of some people.

"It's nice to know there are still good people in the world," Lucy said quietly, watching the old man shuffle through the crowd. She wondered what the man had been doing in the station, if he hadn't been there to meet anyone or take a train.

She pushed it from her mind as their train came to a halt and the siblings bustled onto the passenger car with the others who had been waiting on the quay.

As the train lurched to a start, Peter nearly toppled over. Edmund caught him and looked around at the crowded train and then back at Peter. With a frown, he realized there were no seats here.

"Let's get a compartment," Peter said. "There's got to be something. Most of the people offload at earlier stations and don't use the compartments."

The others nodded and Edmund stooped to pick up his and Peter's valises while Susan steadied Peter and then hovered behind him as he hobbled off down the train aisle.

When they reached the door that opened onto the walkway over the coupling with the compartment car, Edmund glanced at Peter and frowned. "Will you manage all right?" he asked. "I don't want you falling off the train…"

Peter swatted at him with his left hand. "Not going to fall off, Ed," he muttered, shoving the door open and moving out onto the small walkway. He swayed only a little as he crossed and shoved open the other door with a bang. "See?" he said with a little wave. "I'm fine."

Edmund stuck out his tongue and then heaved the suitcases and walked across. Peter held the door for him, then Susan and finally Lucy. It wasn't long before they located an empty compartment and entered.

With a sigh of relief, Peter flung himself onto the nearest seat and rubbed under his arm. He imagined a day of walking with a crutch would leave him with a sore back and a sore underarm.

"All right, there?" Lucy said, sitting beside him and lounging against the cushioned seat back. "You look like you just fought a battle."

Peter smiled ruefully. "Feels a bit like it too. You use muscles you didn't know you had when you do something out of the ordinary and I'm already starting to feel the burn," he said with a chuckle. "But I'm glad Mr. Dunkirk offered the crutch or poor Edmund would be feeling worse than I."

"Ha, ha," Edmund said haughtily. "Quite right, ole chap, you do weigh a ton."

Susan gave her brothers a mock glare. "Boys…no fighting."

They both held their hands up in sync and Susan and Lucy erupted into laughter. Soon Peter and Edmund joined them. It was Lucy who finally broke the hilarity with speech. "I didn't think I'd be laughing so soon after having to leave Narnia," she said. "I thought I'd be all sad and droopy. But, I guess Aslan knows what he's doing because I don't feel all that bad. It just feels, right, somehow."

There was a moment of silence before Edmund sighed. "She's right. It does feel right."

All eyes fell on Peter, who had lost more than just Narnia upon their return.

Looking up at them, he bit his lip. "Even though this happened," he said, gesturing to his useless leg, "it still feels like this is how it was supposed to happen. I have no idea why. Don't get me wrong, I hate this. I really do. But…it's just another challenge that I'll have to face. And I have to believe Aslan knows what he is doing, just like Lu said."

"Speaking of Aslan," Susan said suddenly. "Do you think he meant we'd be going back soon? When he answered Lucy's question? Because it sounded a bit like he meant people might go back to Narnia, but not until they die here or something. He has me a bit worried."

Lucy jerked her head to the side. "I hadn't thought of that, Susan," she said quietly. "You don't really think he'd make us wait a lifetime to go back. Do you?" When Susan didn't answer, she shifted her eyes to Edmund and Peter. "Do you?"

Peter sighed. "I hope not," he said. "Something tells me that this leg of mine will work fine when we go back to Narnia. And I…well…I don't like thinking I'll have to live with this for years to come."

Inwardly, he wondered if it would return to its "bum leg" state the next time they returned from Narnia. Could it be this way every time they set foot in England, from now until they died? I wish the next time we go to Narnia, will be the last. That we won't have to come back here. That Mum will go with us and we can just live our lives out there.

While Peter thought of Aslan and Narnia and his leg, his brother only thought of his leg and what he was going to do about it. Eying Peter out of the corner of his eye, he debated how best to broach his thoughts with the older boy.

I really should try to get the headmaster to let me room with him, he thought to himself. Peter is going to need my help. He might be able to walk, but I know my brother and he is going to start his "wallow in self-pity" party soon enough. He always does, no matter how magnificent a ruler he is, he's only human.

"Ed? Oh, Edmund!" Lucy's voice chimed loudly. "Glad to have you back with us! I was just asking if you think Caspian and Miriam would make a good couple? They were making eyes at each other at the banquet!"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Puh-lease," he said dramatically. "King Caspian has far more to worry about than a dalliance with a beautiful girl." He laughed at the twin open-mouthed gapes that drew from his sisters. "I'm just kidding!" he said quickly. "I do think they would make a cute couple, okay?"

Susan huffed. "Cute, Ed? A cute couple? Don't ever let Caspian know you called him cute in any way, shape or form. Would you want him to call you cute?"

The look of horror on Edmund's face answered that question.

But the next thing to be said was interrupted by the sound of a loud thud from outside their compartment. All four Pevensies turned as one to see what had happened. Seeing no one outside, Edmund stood and, frowning, pulled open the compartment door.

"Oh my!" Lucy exclaimed, hurrying forward to gently nudge over the inert body on the floor outside the compartment. "Oh, it looks like he might have fainted. Edmund? Can you get him into the compartment?"

The dark-haired boy nodded and proceeded to pull the person into the compartment by hooking his hands under their arms. He gently laid him – for it was a boy in the same uniform the Pevensie brothers wore – back and began to pat his cheeks to rouse him.

Peter gasped when he got a good look at the boy. "That's Quentin!" he called out. "Quentin Connors! My best mate at school."

"Wha…what…happened?"

Quentin Connors ruefully rubbed his head and looked up at Edmund, the only one in his line of sight.

"You fainted," the younger Pevensie said, drawing back as the other boy sat up and took in the rest of the compartment. He jumped back further when Quentin suddenly lurched to his knees, pointing at Peter.

"Y…you…P…Peter Pevensie?" He dug his hands viciously into his eyes and then opened them blearily again. Peter was still seated there. "But…but." He couldn't complete his sentence and instead flopped back down on his backside in confusion. "Must be insane. Must have hit my head too hard playing rugby."

"What are you on about, Quen?"

At Peter's voice, the other boy halted in his mumblings and looked up, eyes wide again. "You're still there? You're some persistent ghost, Pevensie," he said, shaking his head.

"Ghost?" Lucy chimed in. "Peter's not a ghost, Quentin. Go ahead and pinch him, I'm sure he'll slap you."

Quentin looked up at that and focused on Peter once more, this time not averting his eyes immediately. Frowning, he stood and moved closer. "Same eyes. Same hair, bit longish. Same face. Same ears…"

"Same person who calls an insane weirdo his best friend…" Peter said suddenly. "Quentin, what in the world is wrong with you?"

Shaking his head one more time for good measure, Quentin suddenly launched himself forward and hugged Peter. The latter lightly patted the other boy on the shoulders, confused.

"Bloody hell mate," Quentin said, pulling back. "It was in the papers, months back. You, my friend, are supposed to be dead. So when I saw you sitting in here laughing about something, I guess…well I guess I was so shocked I, well, um. Hit my head or something. Yeah…"

Susan chuckled. "Admit it, Quentin, you fainted. I don't blame you. I nearly did the same thing when Peter showed up at our front door, very much not dead after we'd been told he was dead."

All five of them looked up and out the train window as a whistle blew and an announcement came over the speakers calling for all passengers getting off at Arkley Station to disembark – it was time for the boys to get off.

"We better get going," Quentin said, looking to the Pevensies. "I wonder if we're rooming together again, Pete?"

Shrugging, Peter didn't answer as he reached down and tugged the crutch from under the seat. Setting it in place, he grunted as he stood and then paused at the sharp intake of breath from Quentin.

"Whoa," the other boy said, eyes riveted on the crutch. "Peter? What's that for? You still hurt or something? If you were presumed dead all those months ago, why do you still need a crutch? Unless…oh."

Peter raised a hand. "I'll have to explain later, Quen. We have to get off the train and it's going to take me longer than usual. And don't you have some luggage somewhere to collect?"

Snapping his fingers, Quentin nodded. "Right. Best get to that then. See you in school!"

As he bustled away, Edmund and Peter turned toward Lucy and Susan.

For the first time in a long time, they would be separated. And none of them knew what to say, or how to feel. For the entire time Peter had been gone, Mrs. Pevensie had kept her children home. This was the first time they would be away at school since getting word their father died and everything was so very different.

Susan and Lucy's gazes inevitably locked on Peter's hunched form.

"I don't want to go," Lucy blurted out. "Can't we all just go home? We can go next term, or…or something." She bit her lip to hold in the sob threatening to burst from her. "What if…what if you need us, Peter? Or Ed? We'll be so far away!"

Her nine-year-old senses couldn't contain the sorrow anymore and Lucy wrapped her arms around Peter, steadying him instinctively when he teetered from her onslaught.

"Oh Lu," he murmured into her hair, still surprised at how much she had grown since the first time they had been in Narnia. It felt like a lifetime ago – and in reality, at least for them, it had been far closer to a lifetime than most people knew. "We'll write to each other. Every day if you like. And there are the weekly phone calls, we're allowed those."

She shook her head in his shoulder. "It's not the same, Peter. What if you…what if?"

Edmund gripped her shoulder. "Stop with the what-ifs, Lu," he said, as gently as he could. "If we dwelled on them, we would never get past worrying and what kind of life would that be? I'll be with Peter and I'll make sure he's all right. And we will keep in touch."

Susan, as upset as she was, knew they had to move. "We'll hold you to writing every day," she said. "And to calling us every week. And don't forget to call Mum too. You can use Peter's call to talk to us and Ed's to talk to her, since you're only technically allowed one call."

She hugged her younger brother tightly and whispered in his ear, "Take care of him, Ed. Don't let him get like he did last time, at the How. Remind him he can still be magnificent."

Edmund nodded, solemn-faced. If he let any emotion onto his face he'd probably cry and that wouldn't do. Boys didn't cry. Well that's not entirely true, he thought to himself. Peter and I did our fair share of crying in Narnia this last time around…

Lucy and Peter had broken up and they all shifted siblings, Susan and Peter saying quiet goodbyes and Lucy and Edmund hugging tightly. The crowd in the corridor began to lessen and Edmund knew that he had to get Peter moving or they wouldn't get off in time.

"We better hurry," he whispered to his brother. "You aren't as spry as you used to be, brother-mine."

Peter grimaced, but moved forward, allowing Edmund to carry his valise since he wasn't about to push his luck and do it himself. Lucy and Susan followed forlornly behind them, intending to wave them off.

The train attendant eyed Peter and his crutch as the young man paused in the train door, unsure exactly how best to get off without falling. Edmund solved his problem by pushing past him and standing below in case he should fall.

Peter smiled grimly before setting the crutch down and forcing his useless leg off the edge of the top step. Once that was done, he held on with his left hand and stepped with his left leg until he was standing on the step below the top. Repeating the actions twice, he was on the ground and sighing in relief.

Lucy and Susan stood at the nearest window, eyes glazed with unshed tears.

As the train moved with a lurch, they raised their hands, plastered smiles on their faces, and called out "write" as loudly as they could.

Peter and Edmund each waved until the train was out of sight before turning to one another and blinking. It was surreal, knowing that Lucy and Susan were now barreling away from them.

"Come on, Edmund," Peter finally said. "The assembly is probably going to start soon. I'm going to be slow enough as it is, I don't want to be late if I can help it. That would only draw more attention to me than I'm already likely to get."

His brother said nothing, knowing that no matter how much Peter might like to avoid it, his being presumed dead, and now appearing with a paralyzed leg was going to draw a lot of attention.

But he would be there to weather it with Peter.

He just hoped Peter would let him help.

Arkley Academy assembly hall…

"There, seats right by the door," Edmund whispered, pointing the chairs out to his brother. "We should be able to get to them without too many people seeing us. Since you're hell-bent on not attracting attention…"

Peter frowned. "You would be too, Ed," he said shortly. "I don't want people to bombard me with questions. Talking about my war experience isn't exactly pleasant, you know?"

Edmund held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry, Peter," he said quietly. "Don't get all defensive on me. Let's just get in there or we're going to get in trouble and that will draw attention to both of us."

Nodding, Peter adjusted his grip on the crutch and moved as fast as he was able through the door to the nearest seat. Edmund followed quickly, casting his gaze about to ascertain how many people had noticed their entrance.

There were a few widened eyes and whispers to neighbors, but it was minimal.

Mission accomplished, Edmund sighed to himself. But getting out again is going to be hopeless, so I have no idea why Peter was so bent on sneaking in here.

"And this year, we will be forming a fencing team, in addition to the many extra-curricular activities Arkley Academy already offers," Headmaster Clark said. There were excited twitters from some of the boys, but a rather disheartened one from one Peter Pevensie.

Edmund winced, knowing how much of blow that would be to his sword-fighting brother. Why? He thought. Why this year, of all years, do they bring in the club Peter would most enjoy? Fate is being awfully cruel this year.

Start of term announcements droned on and Peter let his mind drift. He was disappointed about the fencing club, and glanced at his brother with a moment of envy. Edmund – healthy, talented Edmund – would be able to wow the other boys in school with his fighting prowess, while gimpy Peter would have to sit by and watch.

Stop that, he thought to himself. Pride can be nasty business. I have other talents, I'll just have to focus on those with less physical demands. Like…like…oh like what? I'm a physical person. Maybe I should take up chess, like Edmund has always tried to get me to.

"Rooming assignments are posted on the board, lights out is 9 p.m. Classes start promptly at 7:30 tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep, boys, I expect every one of you to be bright eyed in the morning."

There was a mad rush for the boards, but Peter and Edmund stayed where they were. They could see Quentin and another boy approaching through the throng and Peter knew his friend would have found out the rooming assignments for all three of them.

Turning, he saw Edmund standing. "You leaving?" he asked quietly.

Edmund nodded. "I have to go get my rooming assignment," he said. "I'll come back to walk you to your room, just stay here and chat with Quentin and that other friend of yours, what's his name, Terrance?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah. I'll be here. Sitting. Waiting. Don't be too long."

He turned his attention to Terry and Quentin as they arrived, the former thumping him on the back and congratulating him on "being back in the world of the living" as Edmund hurried out of the assembly hall.

Spying just the man he needed to see, he called out, "Headmaster Clark!"

The man stopped and waited while Edmund ran up to him. "What is it, young man? I have a lot to do tonight to prepare for start of classes tomorrow."

Edmund swallowed, looking around. "I was wondering if I could speak to you about rooming assignments, sir," he said.

Clark shook his head. "If you don't like your roommate, that isn't my problem. You'll just have to grow up and learn to live with it. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He turned to walk away, but Edmund leveled an oddly grown-up glare on him that made him pause. "Sir, I have no qualms with my roommate, I don't even know who it is yet as I haven't checked," he said firmly. "This is about my brother, Peter Pevensie."

Clark frowned. "Pevensie, you say, I think I remember a Pevensie. Blonde hair, top marks in his class? Quiet fellow, never gets in trouble. What does he have to do with your rooming assignment?"

Edmund drew in a deep breath.

"He was drafted into the army while home from school," he said. "We received word he had been killed in Germany, which he hadn't been obviously, but he had been badly wounded. He's paralyzed in one leg and I worry he may need more help than he is willing to admit or ask for. If I were to room with him, I could see to his needs as I am already familiar with what they are." As an afterthought he threw in, "sir."

The headmaster deflated a little and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Damned war," he muttered, then remembering he had an audience with young ears, he frowned. "This war has taken far too many of my students, far too many. I'll grant your request, Pevensie. But don't go spreading the news around or I'll have a line out my door with assignment change requests."

Edmund smiled. "Mum's the word, sir," he said with a small grin. "And thank you. I really appreciate it, headmaster."

Nodding, Clark spun on his heel and strode away.

With a now-weary sigh, Edmund turned back to the assembly hall. "Now, to get Peter to agree -- that bit was the easy part." Shaking his head, he hurried back in and returned to Peter's table where he caught the tail end of the conversation going on.

"… we're your mates, Pete, you won't even tell us?" Terry whined.

Edmund watched Peter tense up and shiver and he saw red. But he held his tongue and his temper, as a King would be forced to do. Good thing it had only been a few hours since Narnia or that might not have been the case.

"Peter, Terry, Quentin," he said cheerfully. "Sorry to barge in, but I have to speak to you, Peter. It's very important. Sorry guys, I have to steal my brother back for the time being."

The two boys stood up and nodded. "All right, Pevensie Jr.," Terry said with a laugh. "He's all yours. He's not being forthcoming right now anyway." Quentin glared at the other boy and smacked him, muttering about "have some heart, mate" as they walked away.

Peter let his head fall into his hands. "What was I thinking by coming to school, Ed?" he said dejectedly. "I'm going to be everyone's favorite topic of conversation. If I had died, it would have died down. If I hadn't been wounded, no one would have known I'd fought. If I hadn't had this bum leg, they still wouldn't have known I was wounded."

He looked up tiredly. "This is going to be horrid."

Edmund plopped down beside him. "Well, I have a solution for a little of that," he said happily. "I'm allowed to room with you, so you'll have a sanctuary from all that attention."

Peter's head snapped up at that. "What? That's unusual, they don't put different years together." His look of confusion changed to one of contemplation when Edmund flushed. "Ed? What did you do?"

The younger boy couldn't deny his brother. "I just asked the headmaster if it would be all right!" he exclaimed. "So I could help you and all!" He brushed his hair out of his eyes. "It's the best way, Peter. You are going to need help, definitely in the beginning."

Peter clutched the crutch and in a lightning fast move that surprised his brother had it set under his arm and had stood before Edmund realized he was moving. How he had done that, the younger boy couldn't figure, but the look on his brother's face stopped him from considering it.

"No way, Edmund!" Peter seethed. "I don't need a babysitter, or a nursemaid, or a mother hen. You can't just do things like that. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I need to get used to being a cripple and with you dogging my every move, I'm never going to be self-sufficient."

He could sense the storm brewing in Edmund's posture. "But Peter…"

The older boy shook his head and cut him off. "No, 'buts' Edmund Pevensie. I'm rooming with Quentin, just like last year. He can help me with anything I might need. I'll see you at meals and during free time. It's enough, Ed."

His brother leaned in close. "You aren't a High King here, Peter, you can't order me around…"

But Peter hissed back. "No, I can't. But you can't force me to room with you either. Now, go look on that board and find who you're staying with because it isn't me. I'll be in room 143, Castle Hall."

He grabbed his valise in his left hand and gripped the crutch in his right, moving off awkwardly.

Edmund scowled, then scooped up his own case, spun to face the board, found his room number and ran to Peter's side. Prying the case from his brother's hand, he grunted. "Fine, have it your way," he said angrily. "But I'm still walking you to your room. I love you, Peter, and I just want to help you."

The older boy sighed and slumped. "I love you too, Edmund," he said, slowing. "I'm sorry I'm being so stubborn. But I really want to do things on my own. I have to, don't you understand? I don't want to rely on you for every little thing."

Edmund frowned. "But you need your family, Peter, or you won't get through this intact. It's too much for one person, even High King Peter the Magnificent." He whispered the last bit, careful of passersby.

Peter didn't respond. But he was inwardly remembering Aslan's words – he would need to rely on his family when facing his challenges. But surely he didn't have to over-rely on them? No, this was the right choice. He'd ask for help when he needed it, and not a moment before.

As they reached Castle Hall and room 143, he sighed in relief when he saw the corridor was still deserted. Everyone else was probably meeting with friends or getting dinner. He was too tired for that.

"Here it is," he said, indicating the door. "If you could put my valise on the dresser, I should be fine and you can go meet your roommate and get settled in."

Edmund nodded, but said nothing. Pushing the door open, he walked in and held it for Peter. When his brother was through, he put the valise down and then watched as Peter sank onto the bed.

"When do you want to go to dinner?" he asked, leaning the crutch up against the nearby wall as Peter flung himself backwards onto his bed with a heavy sigh. "I'll meet you here, it's on my way."

There was a snore from the bed and Edmund jerked in surprise.

"Peter?"

Moving closer and bending over his brother's form, he found Peter fast asleep, one arm across his chest, the other flung beside his head on his pillow. With a small smile, he tugged the folded blanket from the end of the bed and laid it over the slumbering boy.

"Tired much, Peter?" he whispered.

Picking through his brother's valise, he found a pad and pen.

Pete,

Since you so very rudely fell asleep while I was talking to you,
I was forced to resort to pen and paper. I'll swing by to meet
you for dinner at 6, just in case you get up before then. If not,
well, I suppose I'll be waking you up and this will be moot!

Ed

Smiling, he placed the note on the pillow beside Peter's head and walked to the door. With one last glance in, he moved out into the hallway and closed the door with a gentle click.

A/N: Review if you can!! I loooooooove them!