Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, messaged, favorited, or subscribed to me and/or this story! I'm so glad you all are enjoying it! Just as a little side note, things aren't going to be easy for Evi and Peter any time soon. I promise, though, the wait is going to be well worth it.
Chapter 4 I Must Be Strong
- x -
Peter
- x -
We're going back.
We are going back.
That's what I have to tell myself every morning to get through the day. Sometimes it's enough...others...not so much. Today was good day, as it were.
School is over for the term.
Summer has begun.
And my father is slated to return home today on leave.
Heaving a great sigh, I close Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and place it on my desk before lunging into my bed, burying my face into the cushioning fabric of my pillow. Each day I read a chapter from that book and each day I become more frustrated by the 'vernacular' in which it was written.
"Pete, Mum says supper is ready," I hear Edmund's voice echo from the bottom of the staircase. I don't bother responding, I know either way he's going to come up after me.
"Pete?" he asks and I hear him trudging up the stairs, "Did you hear me?"
"Yes. I heard you, Ed," I lazily reply.
"Well, Mum wants to make sure we're all downstairs and 'cheery' when dad comes home. So you better get a move on," he chides and I bring my head out of the pillow long enough to cast him a glare.
"What are you even doing up here? You almost never come downstairs anymore," he wonders, eyeing up the book on my desk.
"Don't worry about it, Ed," I roll my eyes, letting my head sink back into the pillow.
"Mark Twain, Peter? What is this?"
My head snaps up so fast I nearly give myself whiplash and I find Edmund leafing through the novel.
"Don't touch it!" I bound across the room to snatch it from his hands.
"Why? It's just a book," he shrugs his shoulders.
"It's not...just a book," I retort, making sure he didn't damage it.
"And it's bloody difficult to read. Why do you even bother?" he walks past me to sit on the end of his bed.
"Because!" I whip around ready to berate him for his blasé attitude but then I realize I just don't have it in me to fight him anymore and my voice drops down to a whisper, "Because she told me about it."
I don't even have to tell Edmund who it is I'm talking about, he just knows.
"It makes me feel like she's still around," I add with another sigh.
"Is it working?" Ed asks.
"What do you mean?" I shake my head.
"I mean, does it make you feel better?"
I suppose in some ways it does. It makes me feel closer to her but then I remember that she didn't want me. What does it matter if I feel closer to her? Why do I have this constant need to remember everything about her? Why does she even matter so much? I wish to God I could just forget her and move on but I can't. Nothing is going to bring me closure.
Nothing but going back.
Nothing but seeing her one more time.
"I don't know," I whisper, my gaze dropping to my fidgeting hands.
For a few moments Edmund simply gazes at me, trying to figure out what to say.
"She'll be happy, y'know, when we go back?" he finally says and I snort.
"She hated me when we left. I made sure of that," I remind him.
"Bloody hell, are you honestly that dense? Evi loved you, Peter. Everyone saw it except you. Even after you two had it out," he challenges, rising from the bed and disappearing down the hall before I can get word out in protest.
Evi loved you, Peter.
That wasn't the first time Edmund's said that to me. Each time I'm filled with so much bitterness that's so hard to shake but this time is different. Maybe it's the way he said it...he sounded almost bored. It wasn't even like he was trying to convince me of something I know to be false, it was just natural, obvious.
Everyone saw it except you.
Could I really have been blinded that badly by my pain?
Is it even possible that she really loved me?
My gaze lands on Huck Finn sitting perfectly on my desk and I'm suddenly remembering why it is I persist through it...
When I told Evelyn that I loved her, I expected her to run away...avoid me at all costs. For a while I thought I had finally scared her away, pushed her away from me for good. But she reacted in the completely opposite way. She melted in my touch, matched my smiles, followed me into our hidden corridors. Though she's never said so, I'm almost positive her feelings are just as strong as mine.
We've pushed our luck so many times the past year I'm surprised she's even still in Narnia.
Things have gotten...heated...and by heated I mean that Evi really should not still be in Narnia.
But she is.
And we keep testing those waters.
"Evelyn? Are you in here?" I call out, strolling into the library. I haven't seen her all day and nearly everyone in the castle has been looking for her. Naturally I went looking for her down at the beach, but she was nowhere to be seen. On my way back to the castle I ran into Greywind and she said I might find Evi in the library, if I was subtle about it.
Silence falls after the sound of my own voice fades and I curiously glance up at the upper levels of the library, holding back a smirk as I hear the shuffling of feet somewhere on the third balcony.
"Evelyn?" I call again, starting up the spiral staircase, "Ono and Adelaide have been looking for you. Apparently you're little stint with the horses yesterday—"
I'm cut off as a hand clamps firmly around my mouth and I'm dragged somewhere in the recesses of the stacks—the farthest shelves away from the entrance.
"Shhhh," Evi hisses, forcing me against the wall, listening intently as Finnick's and Adelaide's voices resound from the levels below us. All I can do is amusedly smirk at her as Finnick and Adelaide make a quick round through the library before leaving.
"What are you doing up here?" I fold my arms across my chest, still smirking down at her.
"Isn't it obvious? Hiding from Finnick," she smirks back at me, "And you nearly blew my cover, you twat," she jabs at my stomach.
"Is that any way to speak to your king?" I laugh, batting her hands away.
"You're a riot, Pete, honestly," she drawls, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she picks up a small leather-bound book. I notice, as I take a seat next to her, that she's let her hair down and is wearing nothing but her under-tunic and trousers, her boots tucked away in a corner.
"It appears we had similar ideas this morning," I muse, referring to my similar style of dress, not quite feeling up to dressing appropriately.
"I'm sure Adelaide loved seeing you run about the castle in naught but your skivvies," she smirks, not taking her eyes from her book.
"The chambermaids sure did," I grin and that comment garners a pointed frown from her.
"Sorry, Your Grace, but you'll have to shed a lot more if you're looking to impress a girl from the 21st Century," she furrows an eyebrow.
I only chuckle in response. Evi has this knack for making me feel more like the young twenty-something I am rather than a king. I enjoy the way I feel around her. I don't have to put up a front, act all responsible and proper. I can just have fun every once in a while.
"So, aside from hiding from Finnick, what have you been doing up here all day long," I ask, snatching the book right from her hands.
"Well, Your Grace, just because you have the mental capacity of a minotaur does not mean the rest of us do," she quips, trying to wrestle the book back.
"A minotaur, eh?" I hold it above my head, grinning as she tries to reach it.
"Yes. Now give me my book back," she demands.
"Persuade me," I say.
"Peter, please, I'm in the middle of the chapter," she whines and I only chuckle.
"Like I said," I force her back down onto the ground, "Persuade me."
She lets out a large huff and I can tell she's trying hard not to enjoy my ruse.
"Peter Pevensie, I will not play this game with you and you will give me my book back," she points a finger at me.
"And you, Evelyn Wood, are much too wound up and need to relax," I laugh as she swipes the book back from my hands.
"I could if it weren't for High Kings and their dirty antics," she flashes me a satisfied grin as she settles herself in my lap, her book in hand.
To be honest, I don't even care that she's more absorbed in the book than she is me. Just to have her in my arms is enough. She used to tense up at my touch, resist me when I put my arms around her. So when she lets out a sigh and snuggles into my chest, I can't help the smile that graces my lips and the chuckle that follows.
"All the time we have spent in here searching for word on the Witch I never once thought to pick up a Narnian novel," she lets out a contented sigh, glancing up at me with those dark blue orbs of hers.
"Did you read a lot back home?" I ask, loving any chance I get to learn more about Evi's life in the future, "People still read in the future?"
"Ha ha. Again, you're a riot, Peter," she wedges her elbow in my ribs, scrambling to her feet before I could pull her back down to retaliate, "I was obsessed with reading back home. The stories people would come up with, Peter, you wouldn't believe! I loved it all, fantasy, romance, mystery."
I propped myself up on my elbows, watching her rave with a wide smile. I love when she goes off on her tangents.
"And which was your favorite?" I ask.
"Must you make me choose?" she pouts.
"Only one," I shrug and I see her go into deep thought.
She paces back and forth, her lips moving but no sound coming from them.
"While we're still young," I tease receiving quite the menacing glare in return.
"Peter, I can't pick just one," she throws up her hands, "It's between The Great Gatsby and the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."
"The first one I have heard of but the second?"
"It's by Mark Twain. He's recognized as one the greatest American authors and one the novel itself is considered the Great American Novel," she explains.
"Well, why's that?"
"Because it was written in the vernacular, capturing the 'spirit of the times' as they say. The entire book is a satire with several other smaller satires in certain chapters. I hated reading it for school but afterwards I could appreciate everything about it. The themes, symbols, and all the other figurative language. The Great Gatsby is my other favorite for the same reasons. Oh, Peter, there's so much I wish I could show you!"
She unexpectedly tackles me over, straddling my waist and interlocking her fingers with mine as my hands are pinned to the floor.
"What I would give for just one day in New York with you. Take you to a Yankees game, see Wicked on Broadway, shop in Times Square," she sighs, and I can see her eyes go very distant, almost as if she were remembering some fond memory. I tuck her hair behind her ears, echoing her sigh.
"What I would give just to have you for one night," I breathe, my eyes locked in with hers, "I love you, Evi."
"I know, Peter," she whispers back and I feel her hands squeeze mine, "If I could do it all over again, you know I would. Right?"
I only nod, my constricted throat not able to release any words as her hands slide from my hands and down to my chest. With a couple tugs, she pulls me back up into a sitting position her legs still wrapped around my body. Her hand glides back up my chest and up to the side of my face, sweeping my hair from my forehead.
"I wish I could go back and do it over again," she whispers...
Back then I always thought she was referring to the foolish things we did as hormonal teenagers. It never once occurred to me that she was talking about love.
Say she did.
Say she honestly and truly loved me.
Why, then, did she lie to me?
- x -
Evi
- x -
"Who are you?"
"W-well, it's me...Evi. Don't you recognize me?" I struggle to find words.
"Are you another one of my nurses?" she blinks her eyes at me.
"No, Susan, we're not," Finnick slowly answers, sitting down next to me, "Do you recognize me?" Susan is silent once more as she carefully looks him over.
"I do not but I certainly wouldn't mind if you replaced Hannah," she grins, sipping her tea again. Finnick lets out a slight chuckle but stops immediately upon seeing the upset look on my face.
I know I shouldn't be so upset and surprised that Susan doesn't remember us. I should have expected something like this, I know. I did expect this...but it just doesn't make it any easier.
"Do you remember anything from Narnia?" I ask and she suddenly drops her cup, the glass shattering when it hits the wood floor.
"Whatdidyousay?" she furiously asks, her face suddenly turning dark, her eyes alight with terror.
"I asked if you remember anything," I repeat, startled by her frenzied reaction.
"No, no that word..."
"Narnia?" I unsurely say, glancing to Finnick and she nearly topples out of her wheelchair.
"How could you possibly know the game we used to play!" she shrieks, "Don't ever mention that word again! I've had enough of Narnia! They used to tell me it was real! That I was a Queen! They wouldn't leave me alone. So I left! I had enough of the lot of them!"
"Your siblings?" I ask, wondering if the others have forgotten as well.
"Yes my siblings!" she shouts back, "Nutters! The lot of them!"
Then her face grows awfully pallid, her eyes instantly swimming with tears.
"I should not have said that," she shakes her head, her hands trembling even more, "I did not mean it. They were lovely people."
Finnick and I exchange wary glances. Something is not right. Even Granddad didn't have episodes like this.
"Susan," I gently say, bringing her hands away from her face, "Where are your siblings? Where are Peter, Lucy, and Edmund?"
"My parents...everyone I loved," she wails, tears now falling from her eyes, "I had to go by myself and identify their bodies. Every single one of them."
"Susan—" I press, still not understanding her ramblings.
"They're DEAD! They are all DEAD! Don't you understand, you stupid girl? A train derailed and killed them all over 60 years ago! My entire family wiped out in an instant!"
Before I could register what was happening, I was outside, vomiting in the nearest hedge as icy rain pounds on my back and a storm rages above in the clouds. It's only coming out as bile, my stomach struggling to bring up anything else, but the pain it brings cannot even begin to dominate the pain in my heart. I can't even breathe, my chest is moving but I feel like I can't get any oxygen in. My head begins to swim and eventually a strangled, pain-filled sob escapes my lips but is only drowned out by a startling crack of thunder.
The dances with Edmund, the talks with Lucy, the illicit dealings with Peter in the woods and in the library...every good memory I have of Peter, Edmund, and sweet little Lucy, they all bring up more agonizing sobs.
"Peter, I'm sorry!" I scream into the wailing of the storm, not even realizing how my knees are digging into the cement of the sidewalk, "I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"
Maybe if it had been of old age.
I could have accepted that.
Could have dealt with that.
But it wasn't.
A train killed them. All of them. That picture upstairs in Susan's room could've been his last one. Before the train.
Oh God, the train.
My dream.
My stomach lurches and again I'm dry-heaving into the hedge as that wretched dream sears through my mind. I've been watching them die, over and over again.
And I was with them.
"Bloody hell, Evi," I hear Finnick say, bringing me away from the pool of vomit.
"We should never have come!" he yells above the roar of the storm, leading me down the road back to the Underground...