Thank you, soulsistersinaslan, Raextreme, princess emma of narnia, and LadyMidnight30 for your reviews! And thank you everyone else who has subscribed!
Chapter 5 Crazy Circles
- x -
Peter
- x -
"You nearly ready, Pete?" Edmund swings on the door frame just as I'm adjusting my tie.
"Give me a minute," I say, tucking in my shirt as I go to the closet to retrieve my school bag.
It's the first day of school back at the Hendon House. I'll be glad when I go back, summer was just too painful. I had far too much time to myself and it always led to somewhere I didn't want to be...And I'm getting restless. It's been a year since we've come back from Narnia and Aslan did say we would return. I can't wait much longer. There's so much I need to do.
So much I need to tell Evi.
"What if she's not there," I say aloud, not realising Edmund is still in the room.
"Sorry?" he startles me.
"Oh...I uh...well."
He sighs, grabbing his own school bag, "You were thinking about her, weren't you?"
As much as I don't like to admit it, Edmund is a good man to talk to. For a while after we returned he was a right little git—which he still can be—but eventually I was able to open up to him.
"I want to go back, Ed," I say, barely hearing myself speak.
"We will," he nods.
"And what if she's not there?" I look at him, not trying to conceal my worry.
"She will be. She has to be," he says, glancing down at his watch, "We've got to go or we'll miss the train."
I nod, "I'll meet you downstairs with the girls."
Edmund seems so confident.
The fact is, I really haven't a clue what I would do if I saw her again.
- x -
Evi
- x -
After the disaster at Susan's, Finnick said we were leaving the next day. He decided for us both it would be better if we didn't go to the cemetery to visit the others. He told me to go to bed and rest, that he'd wake me up in the morning when we had to get ready.
But when have I actually listened to Finnick?
When I snuck out of the hotel, the sun was just beginning to rise and the storm had subsided some, but as I step out of the Tube a steady, chill rain is still falling. Hendon Cemetery isn't much farther so I just walk the rest of the way, not bothering to wipe away my warm tears as they mix with the cool rain. Upon entering the cemetery grounds, I find myself underwhelmed by the size and decide to simply wander until I find them.
I suppose, in a way, it's me trying to avoid seeing them, to avoid reality. It's almost like if I don't see them buried in the cemetery, they aren't really dead...they're still here...just waiting for me to visit. Even if I already know that's not true.
In my pocket, I feel my phone furiously vibrating again. Several times on the way here it rang but I didn't bothering picking up because I knew it would just be an angry Finnick. Now that I'm here, I could hardly care less what he has to say.
"What?" I answer, not at all invested in this call.
"Where the hell are you? I woke up and you weren't in your room!" he angrily speaks on the other end.
"I'm at the cemetery," I tell him, glancing at all the headstones around me before moving on.
"Evi, I told you not to go! Why do always insist on putting yourself in such misery? Get on the train and get back here! We've got a plane to catch!" he barks.
"Sorry, Finnick," I abruptly hang up.
And then I find them.
Tucked under an old oak tree.
A choked sob catches in my throat as my eyes rove over the glossy marble of Lucy's, Edmund's, and Peter's stones, next to their parents Helen and Hector.
1949.
My knees sink into grass and mud as I collapse to the ground in front of the marble. I not able to really do anything but stare. The tears fall but not a single sob comes from my mouth. My hand is raised but I can't bring myself to place it on the stone
They're really gone.
They were only kids...their whole lives ahead of them...then all of a sudden—nothing.
Peter.
He was only twenty-three.
He never knew how much I loved him.
I never got to tell him.
He never knew.
He died thinking I hated him.
"I'm so sorry, Peter," I finally whisper, letting my fingers curl into the engraved black letters on the stone.
Peter William Pevensie
Beloved Son and Loving Brother
1926-1949
He's gone.
I'll never see him again.
He's gone.
The tightness in my chest finally reaches the point that I cannot contain it anymore, a torturous, agonizing sob wracking my body as I lay out onto his stone, my tears pooling into the letters. The marble soothes my burning skin in a way that the rain can't but it does little to ease to ease my pain. My fingers dig harshly into the stone as my body convulses with each new wave of distraught emotion and I—ouch!
I sharply recoil from the stone.
The damn thing shocked me!
And then I feel another one, then another and another. Then a deafening roar of noise startles me to my feet and I'm frantically looking around as my body feels like it's being pinched and pulled in every direction. My stomach twists and turns and my head reels as I cover my eyes with my hands, just wanting it to stop. Just when I think I can't withstand it any longer—it stops.
Instead of the unnerving roar in my ears, I hear the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore. Then I notice that it's no longer raining, my skin tingling under the warmth of the sun's vibrant rays.
I swallow hard.
Do I even dare open my eyes?
Curiosity gets the better of me and my eyes open, the sight of my surroundings nearly rendering me unconscious.
Narnia.
I'm back.
- x -
Simon
- x -
My name is Simon Beckett. My father was Maxwell Beckett. He was General of Narnia. My mother was the star Ilyria. My wife was Princess Anneliese. And my daughter is Evelyn Beckett.
They tell me to keep repeating what I know in the hopes that more of my memory will come back to me. But after two weeks in this world, Earth, nothing has changed.
So they have me train.
Physical and endurance tests are no problem and after a couple hours, so were weapons tests. But then they handed me something called a gun...and they cut my hair short, handing me world-appropriate clothing, telling me to blend in and assimilate. I've never faced anything more challenging.
The guns are loud.
The clothes are baggy.
The technology is complicated.
And these peoples' customs are illogical.
Notus—the Boreade— quickly noticed that I was going to need a lot more training before they send me into the field. So after only three days they sent me "out west" where the grasp of The Sorcerer is less pronounced but the regions are less developed and populated. What were once great cities are now ruins overgrown by all kinds of foliage. The Narnians who have been here from the beginning of the Great Decline tell me that this country was massive, bigger than Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen combined. But since The Sorcerer took control war has ravaged these poor people wiping out half this country and turning the rest of the world into a barren wasteland.
It's quite sad.
But amidst all the chaos, there are places that are quite breathtaking.
Out in the west there are extensive forests, luscious gorges, and beaches so long they seem to stretch on forever. The compound they took me to is along those beaches and whenever I'm not training I find myself wading in the salty sea water.
It reminds me of Narnia, the tranquility and beauty of it all. Granted the Great Eastern Sea wasn't nearly as cold...but...even still...it's as close to home as I can get.
"This used to be a desert, Death Valley, they called it," I slightly jump at the sound of the girl's voice behind me.
At least, she appears to be a girl but the the way she holds herself, the spark in her eye...they all betray someone with the wisdom and knowledge of an elder.
"You were among the first Narnians brought to this world?" I wonder.
"Yes, even before the Great Decline," she says, rolling up her trousers to step into the water.
"But...that must've been over a century ago," I frown with a small shake of my head.
"Aye. Arma has meddled in yet another world in which he doesn't belong...time and aging means nothing in this world and its citizens are blissfully unaware," she sighs.
When she looks at me, I'm stunned by the color of her eyes, a striking golden color. Even by Narnian standards they are unusual...more beast-like than human.
"Arma? I've heard that name before," I tear my eyes from hers and look back out at the ocean.
The girl heaves another sigh, this one heavier than the last.
"I'm not sure I should tell you, My Lord. Notus has given us all strict orders not to feed you information that may generate false memories," she explains.
"Oh," I nod, feeling my shoulders slump.
I don't like being kept in the dark. I don't like not knowing who I am. I don't like how everyone treats me like a youngling. I'm a soldier. I understand pain. I understand suffering and battle and strategy. Yes, I was a little unnerved when I first came to this world but they give me no credit for all that I have done in Narnia.
"I have upset you," she bows her head, "Forgive me, My Lord, it was not my intention."
"Only you and Notus address me as Lord. I am no Lord," I shake my head.
"You are the son of General Beckett and the father of General Wood. You are a Lord," she assures me.
My former bitterness melts away as I'm reminded that my little girl was turned into a warrior. It is not the life I wanted for her—that much I know—even if I can't remember her face.
"If you arrived here with Notus...does that...did you know my Evelyn as well?" I expectantly ask her.
"I should hope so," she chuckles, "I was her Familiar."
"A Familiar?"
"Yes. In Narnia, I was gryphon by the name of Greywind but when I was ripped from Aslan's Country I was turned into a human. Imagine my surprise," she grins, making me chuckle.
"Can you tell me about her?" I slowly ask, wading back to shore.
"I suppose, since Lady Evelyn was never really part of your past, it wouldn't hurt," she joins me in the sand, "What do you wish to know?"
Greywind and I spend the entire afternoon on the beach, her regaling me with stories from the Golden Age of Narnia and my Evelyn's part in it. Each story made me prouder than the last. Evelyn took what was given to her and never gave up, never lost hope but it was also heart-breaking. She never knew who she was, never got to live a full life with the man she loved. It's all so...tragic. My only hope is that—wherever she is—she has finally found peace.
- x -
Evi
- x -
It's hard to breathe as I wrap my head around the scene before me.
Narnia.
I'm back.
I can't even think about anything else but that fact.
How is this even possible?
And then I'm suddenly scared that this is all a dream, that one movement in any direction will cause me to wake up back in England. A small rustling off to my left startles me and I spin around, smiling as I realize it was only a small chipmunk. I chuckle as I finally accept that I really am back, the little mammal darting off into the brush.
Gathering my bearings, I find myself smack in the middle of some ancient-looking ruins. This makes me frown as I slide my hand over the rough, white stone.
There are no ruins in Narnia.
And yet...I'm in the middle of a huge mass of crumbled stone and bricks, trees, vines, and shrubbery covering it all in a lush green blanket. It's quite lonely and my stomach turns as I suddenly realize there isn't a single soul around.
Not far from where I am, I spot a ruined section of stairs that appears to be rather sound. So I use it to get a better idea of my surroundings and maybe I can figure out just where in Narnia I am. As I begin my tottering ascent, I'm painfully aware of how out of shape I am.
It's strange, though. With each new step, I somehow feel like my body is regaining its former stature. My balance is precise, I'm exerting hardly any energy as I pull myself up, and my footfalls are graceful and light. It's like I never left. I'm confident and sure of myself even if I don't know where I am. That doesn't matter to me, though. All that matters is that I'm home and as I reach the top of the stairs a sense of extreme belonging swells in my heart.
Off in front of me at the bottom of a steep bluff is the Great Eastern Sea, a gust of wind carrying its signature salty, clean scent into my nostrils. The cry of a seagull brings my attention to the sky and I follow the bird's flight until it stops some distance away. My heart sinks as I discover I'm in the middle of an island. Ruins cover nearly the entire speck of land and a disturbing thought grips me as I stare at a series of worn down pillars.
Narnia was left without a King and without a General at a period when tensions were running high with bordering nations. Things probably quickly deteriorated into chaos not long after we left, with no enforced law. I can only imagine the attacks the people had to endure...
Much easier now, I scale back down the series of steps to find my way off this little rock. I would have to find my way to Cair Paravel if I wanted to figure out the state of things around Narnia. If only I knew where I was...
"It's getting late, you know. Look how long the shadows are."
"Do you think we should've helped him?"
"Oh he'll manage well enough on his own. Get him off his high horse maybe."
The series of voices startles me into hiding, my muscles painfully tensing as I realize I am without a viable weapon to defend myself. The footsteps draw nearer and the voices grow louder. I risk a glance around the wall of stone and suddenly see that I won't be needing any sort of weapon.
"It's not possible," I breathe, staring wide-eyed at three of the four Pevensie's, Edmund, Lucy, and Susan alive and well. I literally cannot breathe and I'm positive my heart stops beating in my chest.
"Edmund?" I tentatively call out, slowly rolling onto my knees into their line of sight.
The dark-haired boy turns around with an apple in hand and his face instantly lights up with a smile.
"Evelyn!" he laughs.
"Edmund!" I shout back, stumbling up from my hiding place and unable to prevent the frantic tears from tumbling down my cheeks as I run straight for him.
"Evi!"
"Evelyn!"
Lucy and Susan have spotted me now but they're blocked from my view as Edmund swallows me up in his tall frame. Nothing can stop the happy reunion as Lucy and Edmund, and even Susan, shower me with hugs and cheerful greetings. The feeling of them swallowing me up in their arms is enough to bring more tears that blind my vision as I'm laughing and smiling, hugging each one of them.
They're very much alive.
I don't even care how.
It doesn't matter.
They're alive.
"You're here," I laugh while wiping away the tears from my face, only for more to tumble in their place. They're still teenagers, just like me, and they're loosely dressed in what appears to be their school uniforms. I say loosely because they stink of saltwater and are barefoot, giving me the impression that they just took a swim in the ocean.
"I can't believe it," I shake my head smiling through my tears, "You're here."
They are all smiling as if not believing it themselves.
"But where's—"
"Kind of you lot to wait for me. What's the hold up?"
Edmund and Susan turn around and stepping apart as Peter finally joins the rest of us but his progress is stopped short as he catches sight of me. For a moment, he just stands there, mouth agape, eyes wide with surprise.
"Peter," I choke out throwing myself against his chest, and holding him for everything that I'm worth as my face burns with tears. I commit everything—and I mean everything—to memory about this moment. The salty sea smell of his skin mixing with the detergent and cologne of his clothes. The way his heart is racing unstoppably in his chest. The pleasant, tingling warmth Peter's arms create around me. The way his damp blonde hair feels between my fingers. I'm so absorbed in holding him for dear life that I don't recognize the awkwardness of his return embrace.
I hadn't considered the bad terms on which we separated.
This thought startles me away from him and I sheepishly look at him and the others, seeing they're all quite confused.
"I'm-I'm sorry...J-just give me a minute, okay?" I plead, not able to stop the flow of tears that does not seem to want to stop.
If they were confused before, then they must all be totally baffled now as I give them all a weak smile before stalking off. I meander on down the hill from where they came, stumbling into a thick apple orchard. Once I'm sure they're out of ear shot, I let out the sob that I've been withholding.
Completely tactless.
That's what that was.
I mean what was I thinking? Going and mauling him like that?
That's just it.
He was dead.
All my apologies were into pure air. He's never heard any of them. He probably still believes I hate him, that I'm still with Finnick.
I take a deep breath, wiping away my tears and shaking out my hands as I try to regain my composure.
Reconciling with Peter is going to take a lot more than just a simple apology...if we even can reconcile.
"Exactly what are you wearing?"
Edmund's voice startles me but I'm unable to find it in myself to be angry with him. I just chuckles, waiting as he jogs over to me.
"Not the usual reaction I get but I'll take it," he grins.
I can't help but stop and hug him the manner I did with Peter. Edmund is much more receptive to the gesture, tightly bringing me into his chest with his arms.
"What was that for?" he softly asks, brushing away a couple tears lingering on my cheeks.
"I missed you," I answer, my voice barely above a whisper.
"So where did you get those clothes, Evi?" he asks, eyeing my jeans and asymmetrical gray top.
"Oh um," I glance down, bouncing on my toes in my bright purple converse, "What do you mean?"
"Is that what Narnians are wearing nowadays?" he skeptically asks.
They don't know I left.
"Edmund, I haven't been in Narnia," I say.