WARNING: Um…you may want to have something cuddly and fluffy nearby when you read this, as well as (possibly) a box of tissues. ::sheepish smile:: When you listen to "Evacuating London" while writing a chapter for a fic, that's kind of unavoidable.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C. S. Lewis and Walden Media.

Author's Note: Eeee! ::squeals:: It's almost finished! One more chapter to go after this one and then it's done! I'm incredibly pleased with this chapter, written as it was with a healthy dose of "Evacuating London" playing in the background (probably my all time favorite music track from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, or Prince Caspian for that matter). This chapter actually sort of wrote itself, I just went with it ::grins::. Hope you enjoy this at least as much as I!

Reviewers: Thank you so much for all your reviews! I know you've been waiting patiently (or not so patiently ::winks::) to read this. So please enjoy!

Rating: T/M (for sensitive topics)

Summary: The day before Edmund's eighteenth birthday in England, Peter finds himself feeling incredibly homesick…(Brotherfic, mainly, but Siblingfic, too) (Book and Moviebased) (NO Slash)

"Speech"

/Personal Thoughts/

Memories (italics)

Counting the Days

By Sentimental Star

Chapter Two: Allaying the Sickness

Peter falls backwards onto his bed after the phone call has finished, an arm flung across his eyes as tears leak silently from their corners. He is not unfamiliar with the deep, gnawing ache that has filled the center of his chest, but it has been so long since he felt it last. It hasn't been this bad since Narnia, when he was off fighting the Giants during the fourteenth year of their reign, while Edmund and Susan were in Calormen and Lucy at Cair Paravel.

Not even his first year at University hurt this much—and that was bad enough.

It is a physical pain, and the intensity of it almost scares him. He doesn't pretend to understand why this is so much different than any other time, he just knows that it is and that something is going to happen. Maybe not now, or even in a few days or a year, but soon enough that he is uneasy about it. And uneasiness has always had the rather adverse effect (at least according to his siblings) of making him absurdly overprotective.

Edmund tolerates it with unfailing good humor and, as he daren't go to Lucy with it and Susan often scoffs at it, it is usually Edmund to whom he goes. But his brother isn't here, no matter how much he might wish it, and that is not something that sits well with him.

It is a while before he drops into a restless sleep, tears still clinging to his lashes.

IOIOIOIOIOI

He feels silly about it early the next morning, when he wakes up with cotton in his mouth and grit in his eyes. It has been, literally, years since he last cried himself to sleep. Usually, it is because Edmund—or even one of the girls—has done something spectacularly foolish and noble that has landed them within inches of death again.

That is, thankfully, not the case here. He doubts he would have been able to handle it if it were. There is no magic cordial in this world that can heal any wound or fight any sickness. There is just medicine that, quite frankly, is nowhere near as potent as the medicines and herbs he knows in Narnia.

The temptation is strong to simply lay there, or better yet, to completely disregard Commencement and rules and take the next train out of the station to Finchley. He does not understand why there is so much pomp and circumstance surrounding graduation. Yes, it is an achievement. An achievement of great magnitude, in fact. But it would be so much simpler to give graduates their diploma, shake their hand, and be done with it.

/Of course,/ he reflects with a wry twist of his lips, /most graduates are not kings who spent half their reign trying to avoid such functions./

The thought (and image) is so absurd that Peter sputters out a laugh. However, before he is even able to consider starting to cry again, a sudden pounding at his door jerks him upright on his mattress.

"Hullo?" he slurs, more sleepily than puzzled. Who on earth would be up at this ridiculous hour of the morning, much less intent on breaking his door down?

There is a pause, and before he can wonder if it is his overactive imagination at work in a dream, there is a joyful explosion from behind the wood, "Peter! Oh, Peter, wake up! It's us!"

He is bewildered and still half-asleep when he lurches to his feet and stumbles towards the door, very convinced that it is indeed his imagination at work. Surely he can't have heard Lucy of all people outside his dorm room…

But he fumbles to unlock his door regardless, and very wisely steps back once he's through.

It is not a second too soon. The door bursts open to admit an ecstatic, five foot four blur of color and a dark-haired, tousle-headed youth who steps into the room on its heels.

Before he can even properly register what is happening, he finds his arms full of brightly grinning younger sister. "Good morning, Peter!" Lucy trills out happily, laughing as she looks up at him.

Completely flummoxed, Peter gasps out something utterly incoherent and jerks his head up to stare at his other sibling.

Looking very satisfied, Edmund leans in the doorway, crossing his arms comfortably over his chest and smirking fondly at the shock covering the other young man's face, "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Peter just sputters.

Chuckling softly, Edmund steps inside after shutting the door behind him. "Never thought I'd see you quite this speechless, Pete," he laughs softly, coming forward to gently grasp his brother's shoulders and smile into his blue eyes as Lucy steps away.

Peter finally manages to string together a halfway decent reply: "Ed," stammered, "wha…what…"

His younger brother chuckles again. "Eloquent today, aren't we?"

He quirks an eyebrow curiously as Peter opens and shuts his mouth several times, finally settling on wordlessly shaking his head.

Lucy's giggle redirects the younger of her two brothers' attention. "I think we broke him, Eddy."

Edmund snorts fondly. "Or just shocked him silly."

Lucy laughs. "Same thing."

Edmund rolls his eyes warmly. "Whatever you say, Lu. Do me a favor, will you?" He critically examines the rumpled shirt, trousers, and light blazer the other young man is wearing, "Get him a change of clothes."

Lucy sticks out her tongue at him playfully, but nonetheless does so, grinning to herself as she hears Edmund turn back to their big brother and remark, "I can't believe you went to sleep with your uniform on, Peter. I thought we established how uncomfortable that was ages ago…"

Two minutes later, without quite knowing how he has gotten there, Peter finds himself gently shoved into his bathroom, clean clothes in hand, with explicit directions to get ready for the day and "By the Lion's Mane, hurry up!"

He is still staring at the door five minutes later when it shuts behind his younger brother, not yet able to fully comprehend the situation.

Shaking his head, Peter promises himself he'll think about it after his shower.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Fifteen minutes later, refreshed and rather more awake, Peter hesitantly pokes his head out of the bathroom, slightly fearful that this morning's events were merely a dream.

He needn't have even worried:

"Peter!"

Grinning widely, Peter steps out of the bathroom in enough time to catch the bundle of energy that flings herself into his arms once again, intent on a proper hug. "Lu!" he cries happily, lifting her up off her feet and spinning her around.

Throwing her arms around his neck, the petite sixteen-year-old laughs merrily and clings on as he twirls with her.

A few moments later, a throat clears softly behind them and Peter immediately turns, a bright grin dancing on his lips and Lucy still hanging from his neck.

Smirking warmly, Edmund raises his eyebrow at them from where he sits on his older brother's bed. In three long strides, Peter is at his side and has placed Lucy back on her feet. Leaning down, he gently grasps Edmund's chin and tilts his face up to brush a tender kiss against his forehead. "Happy Birthday, Brother," he states firmly as he pulls back.

The smile that lights up Edmund's face makes every moment of heartache worth it. Cool metal touches his skin as Edmund's right hand comes up to curl around Peter's and the eighteen-year-old leans into his touch. Peter smiles down at the white-gold Lion's head ring adorning his little brother's finger; it is eerily similar to the ring he gave Edmund on his twenty-first birthday in Narnia.

"So are we going to get breakfast? Or should I just leave the room before you two start kissing?" Lucy's amused, albeit slightly wicked, retort startles her two brothers back to themselves.

While Edmund's face flames and he scowls fiercely at her, Peter casually turns to face her and smirks, "Find me a female, non-related version of Ed and you got it."

As their little sister's bright laughter fills the room, Edmund yanks his older brother's pillow out from underneath the sheets and whips it in Peter's approximate direction.

He is very satisfied a moment later when Peter is unable to sputter out anything around his mouthful of pillowcase.

IOIOIOIOIOI

"You're worse than Mum!"

Edmund's exasperated cry is what greets passerby some hours later when he, Lucy, and their older brother emerge from the café where the three siblings have had lunch together.

He knows he should not be complaining. Not very many big brothers spoil their younger sister as well as their younger brother as thoroughly as Peter has. It is always this way whenever the three younger siblings visit their older brother at university, but because today is Edmund's birthday and Peter originally was not going to be with them for it, it almost seems as if he is trying to make up for it.

He has already bought both breakfast and lunch, and he is now insisting that he buy them a pastry or an ice cream as well. Edmund half-expects him to drag them through several shops next and purchase whatever seems to strike their fancy.

"But, Ed--" his brother begins.

"Peter, for the last time, I am not hungry. We just ate. You have done more than enough already. And I am going to kill you the next time you mention anything involving wrapping, ribbons, candles, or cake!"

Lucy erupts in giggles. Edmund groans and, muttering to himself in irritation, stalks ahead, leaving two very amused siblings to follow in his wake.

Peter raises an eyebrow at his retreating back. "Doesn't leave much room to negotiate, does he?"

Lucy laughs outright. "Would you expect any less? He was Narnia's finest diplomat, after all."

Peter groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "The finest…or maybe just the most stubborn."

"Careful, brother dear, pots should not go calling their kettles black," his youngest sister laughs brightly.

"And little sisters should never make this much sense," he grumbles.

Lucy grins. "And yet, we always do."

Peter sighs, and resumes watching their brother's back, his eyebrows knitting together in a slight frown.

Noting this, Lucy casts an oblique glance at him. "Why don't you ask him to stay over tonight, Peter?" she suggests softly, with a small grin. "I'm sure he won't mind and I can take care of Mum and Susan…"

Peter rubs his face with another faint groan. "Am I really that obvious?"

Lucy smirks slightly, expression warm. "Just a little bit. I think Edmund's too annoyed with you at the moment to notice, but you've missed him at least as much as he's missed you, haven't you?"

The faint coloring of Peter's cheeks is all the answer she needs.

Grinning widely now, she slips in behind her eldest brother and pushes him, causing him to stumble and stagger forward. "So go ask him."

It should be easy enough—Peter nearly collides with Edmund as they reach the intersection of two sidewalks at the corner of a building. But Edmund has frozen in place, and his face is far paler than Peter thinks it ought to be.

Righting himself, he gently grips his brother's arm and gives it a firm shake. "Ed?"

Edmund presses himself into Peter's side just as Lucy pokes her head curiously around the two of them. "What is…" she trails off as she catches sight of what her youngest brother has already seen. "Oh," she remarks softly.

Slowly hobbling his way along the sidewalk is a young soldier not much older than Peter. He is using a crutch to keep his balance and his uniform is almost threadbare; his left leg has also clearly been amputated at the knee. He is stopping at every shop along his route—and there are quite a few on this street—only to be turned away, most often at the door.

"The poor boy," Lucy whispers.

The three siblings quietly watch him as he is turned away at yet another door of yet another shop—this one a laundry. When he turns, this time it is towards them and they catch sight of the weariness and resignation lining his face.

Lucy suddenly darts around Edmund. Her two brothers start. "Lu!" Edmund calls, shrugging off Peter's hand and darting after her.

Peter has only time to blink before Edmund and Lucy are gripping the soldier by either arm and carefully leading him over to their big brother.

There is a stubborn set to Lucy's jaw when they reach him. "We're taking him home, Peter."

Peter blinks and glances at Edmund, who shrugs but does not quite meet his older brother's eyes. Filing away his younger brother's reaction for later contemplation, Peter turns back to Lucy, "Not that I object, Lu, but Mum might have something to say on the matter."

He is startled by the young man's laugh. "She means my home, sir."

Sir?

He immediately glances up to meet the soldier's gaze…and nearly reels back a whole pace and a half. The man's eyes are blue—Peter's exact shade of blue. If not for the ebony hair and goatee, he swears he could be looking at the mirror image of himself two or three years hence.

Well, that certainly explains Edmund's reaction.

"Oh," stuttered, as he glances again—worriedly—at his brother, "um…"

Edmund keeps his eyes determinedly turned away.

Seeing their interaction, the soldier's blue eyes soften. "Perhaps you will have better luck convincing the lady than I," he bows his head to Lucy. "She insists she will accompany me home and I would not trouble her."

Before Peter can even think of a reply, his little sister speaks up, "It is no trouble at all."

The young soldier laughs sheepishly, apparently helpless in the face of Lucy's determined—if overbearing—good will. "You see my difficulty."

Peter grins faintly. "I can relate."

Lucy sticks her tongue out at him playfully.

Edmund snorts softly, if warmly, and shakes his head. Twisting, he looks up at the young man, "I am afraid you're stuck. Where did you say your house was?"

The soldier heaves a sigh, sharing an amused glance with Peter. "Just down this road." They turn in the direction he indicates and start walking. "It's not my house, really. Rather, it's a Soldiers' Home."

While Peter and Lucy wince, having heard stories of these "Soldiers' Homes," Edmund appears to be mulling over something in his head. "Is that why you are looking for work? Have you no one to go back to?"

Peter winces again, as Lucy reaches around to not-so-lightly thump Edmund on the arm. "Ed!" she scolds.

Edmund blushes, but does not retract his statement.

The soldier smiles wanly. "Well…there is someone, but…" he trails off, eyes slightly distant.

Peter is utterly startled by the empathy that abruptly fills his younger brother's dark eyes, even though the soldier has not completed his remark. "Have you considered asking at the university?"

The young man jerks at the soft question, shocked, turning to face Edmund. "Wha-what?" he stammers. "But I haven't the money…"

"Have you considered asking them for work," Edmund clarifies quietly. "I am sure there must be any number of positions open and if you are working for them…"

Realization etches the soldier's face as he follows where Edmund is leading him. "Then I may yet have a chance to resume my schoolwork."

Lucy beams.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Peter is thoughtful as he watches his two youngest siblings while they wait for their parents' and Susan's train, quietly marveling at the generous spirit that is his littlest sister and the tender soul that is Edmund.

(Flashback, Several Hours Beforehand)

"You've not soldiered, have you?"

The soldier asks him this when they reach the Soldiers' Home. Edmund is thankfully out of an earshot, apparently intent on arranging some sort of transportation for the soldier so he can come up to Oxford tomorrow, and has brought Lucy with him inside the Home.

Peter sits down beside him on the bench outside, shoving his hands into his pockets and shaking his head. "No," he murmurs, "I haven't." /At least not that I can tell you,/ he thinks with a quiet sigh, and continues out loud, "I'd considered it. Our father had. But…" He shrugs, unable to explain that anytime he thought of enlisting, he remembered, with a twist of his gut, the utter desperation on Edmund's face whenever his younger brother could not join him on a march, due either to some previous wound he had sustained or some diplomatic mission he had to fulfill. They have been each other's shield and protection for so long that Peter is frankly terrified of what might happen if they are separated, and knows, with an awful certainty, that he would be unlikely to survive it.

He cannot do that to his siblings, and especially not to Edmund.

"That is wise," the soldier's voice is soft, and his eyes are distant as he gazes out across the street.

"You lost someone…didn't you?" Peter hesitates when asking his question—he has far more compunction than Edmund about speaking his mind, especially when he knows what he asks will hurt.

His answer is a wan smile. "More than someone, actually," the older young man turns his eyes back to the street. They have gone gray with sorrow. "My younger brothers. My youngest sister. All during the air-raids. I did not…" his breath catches in his throat and he rapidly blinks his eyes, apparently in an attempt to keep back tears, "I did not reach them in time."

Peter is aching when the soldier finishes, a violent, deep sort of ache that resonates with his companion's. He knows all too well that kind of pain. The unbelieving, blinding sort when you suddenly realize that your brother's blood is spilling too fast or your sister's fever is spiking too high.

"I understand," Peter's response is strangled, and he tightly shuts his eyes, "I know when someone says that it is hard to believe…but really, I do understand. My brother--"

It is his breath that catches this time, and he drops his face into his hands, struggling not to cry. It still hurts, all these years later. Memories can be vicious, unforgiving things, especially colored (as many of his are) with guilt. And the memory of Edmund dead—not just dying—on the battlefield of Beruna, is one of the worst.

He feels the soldier's hand on his shoulder. "I believe you," the older young man remarks softly, causing him to look up. "For some reason," he shakes his head bemusedly, leaning back into the bench and against the wall, "I believe you. Many people have told me something similar, but until you…and your siblings…I never had a reason to believe." He looks up at Peter, twin sets of blue eyes meeting and locking. "Thank you."

Dumbly, Peter nods. He wants to tell him. Oh, how badly he wants to tell him. There is a reason their encounter is so different, and he suspects that this soldier, out of everyone here (with the obvious exceptions), would believe him—believe them, if they were to tell him about Narnia. But before he has the chance, Edmund and Lucy emerge from the interior of the Soldiers' Home.

Lucy is fuming as she marches over to them, tear tracks on her cheeks. Edmund follows her, looking extraordinarily withdrawn and pale.

When Peter starts forward out of his seat, alarmed, he is shakily waved off by Edmund, who goes over to the soldier. "I've arranged with the lady who runs the Home to have a taxicab pick you up at eleven tomorrow. She is placing the necessary calls to the Dean of Faculty and the Provost as we speak. You need only worry about your coming interview, and perhaps a lunch."

Edmund smiles faintly—and fondly—at the look of abject shock that covers the soldier's face once he is done speaking. "How…?" the young man sputters.

Peter, in spite of everything, laughs softly, affectionately tapping Edmund on the cheek. "Ed's studying to be a diplomat. I'm not sure why. He's already the finest one I've met." /And I've met quite a few,/ he thinks privately.

Edmund self-consciously rubs his cheek, blushing at the obvious pride in his brother's voice. "It's Ambassador, Peter. Not diplomat."

The older boy grins, "Same difference."

Lucy smiles softly at the soldier who is looking rather overwhelmed. "It's best just to go with it," she offers warmly.

When the young man continues to look overwhelmed, Lucy sits down in the spot Peter has since vacated and takes the soldier's hand with a slightly larger grin, "It'll be all right, I promise."

The soldier glances from her, to Edmund, and at last to Peter—who is slightly startled (though, at the same time, not so very startled) to see tears in his eyes.

Suddenly, with a strangled laugh, the young man surges forward, first hugging Lucy (who is startled enough that she gives a small squeak), before hugging both Peter and Edmund in their turn, and at last drops back against the bench's seat, crying and laughing at the same time.

Before any of the siblings have a chance to recover from the soldier's fervent thanks, a flash of color catches in the corner of Peter's eye and he turns to see a young woman, not much older than twenty-four or twenty-five, rushing up the street, long ebony hair streaming out behind her. She is clearly related to their soldier, and may, in fact, be his twin, but none of the three Pevensies receive a chance to ask her.

Even as she reaches them, the young man's face lights up. "Rebecca!" he exclaims happily, almost giddily, "Rebecca!" and immediately propels himself up with his hands to hug her.

The woman—apparently Rebecca—tries to free herself so she can gently grab his face. "Matthew," she raps out, clearly flummoxed, "Matthew, what happened? Are you all right? The landlady called but she didn't say--"

Their soldier is laughing—and crying—too hard to really answer her. But he tries, and evidently it is enough, for when she next raises her head it is to look at the three Pevensie siblings with sheer, heartbreaking gratitude.

Peter smiles and dips his head to her, slipping an arm each around Edmund and Lucy. "I think he'll be all right now, Lu," he murmurs, gently turning them around and heading them away from the Soldiers' Home. "He is well taken care of." Peter squeezes her waist and turns to rest his lips against Edmund's hair, "And now…I'll take care of you. What do you say, Ed? A trip to the pastry shop for the lady?"

Edmund just muffles his groan in his brother's chest.

(End Flashback)

Peter laughs softly to himself, shaking his head. /And Susan wonders why I spoil them so./ His smile softens as he watches Lucy twirl happily in the sunset, laughing. /They are so much like angels sometimes that it is hard to resist./

By no stretch of the imagination are any of them perfect. Lucy has a temper and Edmund little patience for foolish people, as well as a sharp tongue to match. Susan is far too conscious of society and its opinions, while Peter could often care less. Edmund would here insert that he did not care about himself, either, and that his brother should "Bloody gain a sense of self-preservation!" Whereupon Peter would cheerfully inform him that he was no better.

Laughing again, warmly, Peter grins. /Ed puts up such a fuss and, in the end, it is he who is often the first to hurtle into battle if he thinks someone needs him./

"You know," the dry voice comes from his left and startles him, "if you keep on with that you may have people starting to wonder about your sanity."

A second later he recognizes it as his brother's. With a warm snort, he turns to face Edmund who has just joined him at the train station's rail, "Didn't you start worrying about that ages ago?"

"Peter, dearest," Edmund retorts sweetly, "I haven't stopped."

Peter snorts again, fondly, "Worrying, that is. I shouldn't have even asked."

Found out, Edmund sighs, leaning amicably into his brother's side. "So what is it? Lu mentioned you had something you wanted to ask me."

Peter's cheeks turn pink. Edmund is quite interested now, and quirks an eyebrow curiously up at his older brother.

Nervously, Peter clears his throat. "Er…Ed? Would you…would you mind coming back with me tonight? I mean…"

Edmund stares at him a moment, the only indication that he is startled by the request the double blink of his eyes; then he groans, "…Drat. I caught you in reverie mode again, didn't I?"

His response startles a laugh out of Peter, but does much to relax his older brother, "Ed, I'm serious!" he chuckles.

"So 'm I," muttered, as the eighteen-year-old leans his head in Peter's shoulder.

Peter laughs again, his chuckles lightly bouncing Edmund's head. "Ed. I've been in 'reverie mode,' as you so aptly put it, since you and Lu first got here this morning."

Edmund sighs, but Peter can feel his affectionate smirk through the cloth of his shirt, "You do know that we're a little old for sleepovers, don't you?"

"According to Susan we are."

"Oh. Well, that's all right, then."

Peter is amused. Glancing down at dark head resting on his shoulder, he asks, blue eyes dancing, "You'd do it just to annoy Susan?"

"No. Well, yes, but that's not the--"

Peter laughs. "You're priceless, Ed," he murmurs, discreetly tucking away a grateful kiss in the ebony tresses strewn across his shoulder.

Edmund grumbles something along the lines of "Stupid, sentimental prat," and hides his burning face in his brother's shoulder.

To Be Concluded…