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Interlude 4: A Taste of England
The nurse stared down at her in undisguised disgust as she lay curled up on the bed, sobbing in agony and mournfully caressing her stomach. Her body was on fire but she could barely feel the pain anymore; her mind was focussed solely on the knowledge that she was most likely going to lose her baby. The healers in Narnia had told her of the dangers of childbearing when it became known she was pregnant. Mrs beaver had coached her in all the obvious signs to look for that something was wrong, the dwarf women had taught her how to breathe and told her of their own customs during pregnancy. Susan knew everything there possibly was to be learned without having the actual experience of giving birth. And right now, she knew something was wrong.
Professor Kirk had called for a doctor immediately once her screams of terror and pain had filled the large, old house. He had had the butler take the only car on the estate and speed to the nearest town when he was told there was no one available to come put at such short notice, and had paid much more than was needed in order to coax one of the nurses on call there to return to the house and attempt to help out the child in his care.
Susan was aware there were other people in the room, but she couldn't bring herself to care until she felt the bed sink slightly at her side and Peter's familiar hand caressing her sweat soaked shoulder gently. Raising her tear stained face to look at him, she felt fresh tears wash swiftly down her cheeks as she realised he would never see his child, his heir. Neither of them would ever see the beautiful child their love had created after so many years of trying to conceive. Her voice was hoarse, and cracked as she whispered her apologies to him, her mind fogged with grief- half delirious with pain and the shock of their sudden return. As Peter's own calming, chocked whispers filtered in through her mind and a cool cloth slowly moved across her face and back, Susan drifted into pained unconsciousness; her fingers grasping Peter's and their entwined hands pressed to her slightly raised stomach.
As Susan rested fitfully, Peter carefully smoothed the damp hair away from her face and pressed gentle kisses across her forehead. Slow, steady tears dripping from his eyes as he curled his body behind hers and sank down into the pillows; his hand resting over hers on her stomach as he too mourned the loss of the child he would never know. He paid little attention to the voices in his mind that had been whispering to him for the last couple of days; whispers of how wrong he was to be with Susan like he was. Whispers that called him filthy and sick, and murmured foreign but vaguely familiar words like "hell" and "incest" into his ears. Right now, all he wanted was to be right where he was; curled up beside his wife in the same position they had slept in for the last fourteen years and wishing the circumstances were different. He paid even less attention to the nurse standing in the doorway, quietly observing and curling her lip in disgust as he wished to be home in Narnia, where everything was right, and good- not the place that caused half forgotten memories of explosions and screaming and an absent father to rise up and haunt him.
Watching over Susan, his mind focussed solely on her, he was only vaguely aware of the professor entering the room and talking quietly with the nurse who had so far only done a cursory examination of Susan's body before declaring her irresponsible, pregnant and about to miscarry before retreating to the doorway to wait. His attention was only dragged fully towards the two at the sound of nurse's voice.
"That'll be the father will it?" she asked with distain, her eyes fixed on the way Peter was holding Susan close to his chest- eyeing them both with such unconcealed distaste that he shifted uncomfortably on the bed and felt the guilt that had been slowly building the last few days once again fill his gut.
"I honestly wouldn't know" was the mild mannered reply- a lie Peter thought, but kept quiet, forcing his attention to stay more on stroking Susan's back soothingly than the conversation. "He is her brother however, and she is very ill. I don't really think anything else matters right now, do you?
The door closed quietly as someone exited the room, Peter didn't bother looking up to check who, leaning forward instead to place a gentle, loving kiss against Susan's damp forehead, smoothing the damp strands of hair away as he did so and steadfastly ignoring the whispers filling his mind. She whimpered quietly in her fitful sleep and breathed out his name in a pained whisper. Pulling her in tighter to his chest, Peter murmured soothingly in her ear until she fell silent again- turning into his chest and burrowing her pain filled face in his neck as she did so; her hand curled around her stomach even in sleep, while the other clutched at the patched shirt covering his chest. This was what mattered he thought, the feeling of rightness that came from holding his wife close to his chest, of having her in his arms; not the words that skipped through his mind like newly discovered secrets- building in strength and number as the hours away from their home stretched out- seemingly becoming longer and longer with every tick of the giant grandfather clock resting in the hallway.
He glanced once more towards the doorway of the room, checking who was there before turning his face away and unrepentantly burying it in Susan's hair. The abject horror and disgust on the nurses face as she stood watching them from the doorway was the last thing he saw before his body succumbed to the much needed sleep. Her twisted face and revolted eyes haunted his dreams though while the knowledge that only the professors money kept her in the house curdled his stomach. For Peter, sleep was fitful; terror and guilt warring on his face even in sleep but his arms remaining locked around Susan's much changed body throughout the night as they both subconsciously prayed to Aslan to spare them their child.
