we don't have to slow back down;
He hadn't fought her, in the end. If Susan wanted to ride with him, Edmund wouldn't argue. These parts of the journey she could travel with him. It was the final part he wouldn't budge on.
They had their own compartment, which they really didn't need what with Peter staying by Jill's side. But the privacy was nice, if only so they could be alone in their fear of what was to come and not have to share it with a train full of strangers. Edmund sat propped against the window, eyes directed outside at the passing scenery but tracking nothing. He was thinking of what he had to do and what would happen, not the right now.
Susan had gone along with Edmund, hoping she could convince him that he didn't need to be doing this. Because it was Edmund, she didn't think there was very much chance she would actually manage to change his mind, but she had to try. She didn't say anything for a long time, looking out the window. Her jumper was folded in her lap, and she held it so tightly her hands were beginning to ache.
"Edmund..." She glanced at him across the compartment, and her voice faltered.
Edmund came back to the present at the sound of her voice. He'd been thinking a hundred different things and, shamefully, none of them about Susan. He tried to smile for her, then got up from his seat to sit beside her. "Don't worry, Su," he said quietly. "Really, don't."
"How am I not supposed to worry?" She shifted in her seat so she was more like facing him. "Please, don't do this, Edmund."
"Because this is the way it goes, Su," he said as soothingly as possible without actually being patronizing. Having been talked down to for many years, Edmund took great care not to do the same to others. "You said it turns out alright, really. We all go to Aslan's country." It was something to be pleased with, but Edmund couldn't sound very cheerful. "And if this is that dream of home like you said happened before, then I'll go right back to the island. I'll wake up."
"But this isn't the way it goes," Susan insisted. "You've got years and years left before this happens! I'm telling you, this is an island trick--if it wasn't, you'd all be your proper ages like Lucy is and I wouldn't even be here. And we don't know what happens to people back there if they die here." She almost choked on that word, but at this point she was desperate enough that she skittered right over it.
"Four," Edmund inserted quietly. Four years were far more than a few days, but they didn't seem like much to Edmund just then, sitting on this speeding train as he thought of Narnia and Tabula Rasa, places where time all but stopped. Years could pass there and only an instant changed here, in good old England.
"We don't know the island any better than we know magic," Edmund reasoned, keeping his voice calm and steady, more likely for his own benefit than Susan's. "Maybe it's just simple magic that's changed things about." The implication, of course, was that any magic unrelated to the island that didn't put an icy stab of fear into Edmund's heart was Narnian magic, Aslan's magic, and good for all it was unpredictable. "Besides, Su... If this weren't right, don't you think.. something would have happened by now? We saw a vision of that poor man, plain as day. If we're not meant to try to help him, then why are we here? And why wouldn't Aslan do something to stop it?"
"I don't know!" Susan wasn't doing quite as well at keeping a calm and reasoned voice as Edmund was, though she was trying her best not to sound hysterical. "If everything's meant to be like it was before, why am I here? I'm not meant to be here helping you chase down these rings, I'm supposed to be back on Tabula Rasa with my son."
Susan let go of her jumper and took Edmund's hands--whether to try better to make her point better, or to try to hold on to him longer, she didn't know. "I know you want to believe this is Aslan's doing and you're doing something good and noble, but that's what this place does. It makes you think you're back home and it's business as usual but it isn't, and if you get yourself killed here we don't know what's going to happen to you there or anywhere else."
"Su," Edmund said, trying to stay calm when his sister's outburst just made him want to hug her and hide. He could do this, would do this, if only he didn't think about the worst of the consequences. "Su, if you're right and this is all a dream, then I'll be fine. You can't die in dreams, not when I'm asleep in bed back on the island. My body's safe and this is all in our heads. But I can't risk believing this isn't true and just let something terrible in Narnia without even trying to stop it."
Obviously trying to convince him that this wasn't real wasn't going to work, and Susan was getting desperate. "But you don't know that," she protested, and her eyes stung with tears. That made her angry, because she didn't want to look like the stupid hysterical girl; she wanted to be reasonable and logical.
It was difficult to be reasonable and logical when you were trying to convince your brother not to throw his life away.
"You don't know that just because it's a dream that it can't hurt you," she begged. And now that the sensible reasons hadn't swayed him, all that were left were the selfish reasons, the ones she hadn't really wanted to admit out loud--but they were the only ones she hadn't given him. "I don't want to watch you die again," she whispered. "It doesn't matter whether it's real or a dream; I can't do it again."
Now he did break down a little and wrap his arm around Susan's shoulders, pulling her tight beside him. It didn't feel like a dream; the train rocked gently every so often, and he could still smell a hint of salt spray and sun in Susan's hair. It didn't feel like it, but feelings could often be misleading. Edmund had felt safe beside a woman in white once too, and he couldn't have placed himself in more danger then.
"You won't be there," he said quietly, and even though he was young and speaking softly, there were times Edmund still sounded like the wise king he once was. "You'll be off on your own somewhere, and you'll go to sleep at night and wake up on the island with Jon and Rickon, and we'll all be there safe and sound again. You won't do it again, Su. I'm not going to die."
Edmund sounded so grown-up and confident that Susan very much wanted to believe him, but she just couldn't. She sat there quietly for a few moments, leaning against his shoulder, listening to the sound of the train clacking along the rails and wishing this would all be over by nightfall. She kept thinking of his words, you won't be there, and wondering if ... no. She couldn't go with him. Even if she were meant to--and she wasn't--there was Rickon. Susan missed her son horribly, and in those moments she wasn't thinking of her brothers' fate she was thinking of her precious, headstrong child... no matter what she may or may not have wanted for herself, there was not a doubt in her mind that she had to take the course of action that she felt would give her the best chance of getting back to him. Still, she would not abandon her brother so easily.
"If you think I'm going to be off 'somewhere else'..." She shook her head. "Oh, well, Edmund doesn't agree, I'm leaving... no, it doesn't work like that."
"You can't be in the station with me, Su." Edmund didn't snap, but he was firm in this, unhesitating, and looked at Susan as though he could will her to understand. "We don't know how... how bad things will be. You can't be with me at the last." He couldn't save her from heartbreak now, but he wouldn't let her take the chance he was taking, not with Rickon and Jon back home and the life she was meant to go on leading here.
"No," she agreed, but reluctantly. Part of her wanted to argue with him again that if it was that bad, why was he doing it? But thinking about it was making her sick, and if these were her last hours with Edmund she didn't want to spend them arguing. There had been too much of that in her time anyway. "I can't. But until then, I'll be with you." She stopped short of promising she wouldn't try to talk him out of it again, even though she knew now there was no getting through to him.
"Thanks," Edmund said, giving Susan's shoulders another squeeze. For all his somber determination, Edmund did not want to face this alone, did not want to spend a day wandering a city he couldn't even call home anymore without anyone to hold his hand. He didn't have to do anything at the end of all this, just stand there. But right now he had to live and that was the scary part. "I mean that, Su," he said softer. "Thank you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
The rest of the train ride passed without note, as most train rides are once you've gotten over the excitement of seeing trees and fields whoosh by you at an incredible speed. Susan and Edmund were uninterested in this, as they had ridden trains many times before and had seen country whoosh by them from the back of a Talking Horse or a griffin or a particularly wonderful lion. They remained close, neither dozing as they were too nervous for that, until the train made the slow, squeaking halt at the station. Edmund could not help but hear the sound as especially loud.
They walked the city, got a bite to eat and found suitable coveralls for Edmund to act in. It wasn't like any sort of holiday you or I have ever taken, much sadder in fact, but also much more memorable. Susan held her brother's hand and they walked familiar streets until the night air nipped their noses red and they could no longer pretend that the day would last forever. They bedded down in a hostel and rose early the next morning as neither had slept very well.
Fetching the rings was the easiest part. Edmund walked into the yard while dew was still on the grass, with no hesitation and completely confident. Noo one questioned his being there once, if they even ever saw him. The digging took longer than it might have with two, but it was all over in very little time indeed. They sent a wire back to the others and finally, all that was left to do was wait.
It was an early train, and though he tried Edmund couldn't manage to get breakfast down. It didn't seem to matter much ultimately. A full stomach wouldn't change anything. So he and Susan walked to the station, taking their time, but even so they arrived with fifteen minutes to spare, just for them to mill around outside and wait.
Susan had followed Edmund every step of the way, not wanting to waste a single moment of their time in case it was the last of it. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but none of them seemed right, so she was far quieter than usual. By the time they made it to the station, Susan found her steps dragging, as if she could make Edmund miss the train with her slowness. But that wasn't enough, and they were there in plenty of time.
Susan felt as if she were going to be sick.
"If you don't come back," she blurted, desperate for anything to say, "do you want me to say anything to anyone? To Charlie?" She hadn't yet met him, but she would look for him if Edmund wanted her to.
He'd been trying not to think about that, trying to think of anything but that. What if he did die and went to that place like heaven? What about everyone he left behind?
"Tell him--" What? They'd been dating for little more than a week. Not that that week hadn't been greater than Ed could have imagined it to be, but it was still a week. "Tell everyone I love them and will miss them," he said. Ed huffed out a short laugh and grinned ruefully as a thought came to him. "Even Arya."
Even Susan couldn't help but laugh a little at that, even if it was a slightly tearful laugh. "Even Arya," she repeated, nodding. "I promise. Oh, Edmund--" The laughter was gone now, but the tears remained, and she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly. "Even if I don't want you to do this, I'm still proud of you for it. You're one of the bravest people I know, and I love you." She had to let go of him soon, to let him catch the train, but she was finding it impossible. Just one more moment, her heart begged. Just in case.
Edmund hugged her back just as tightly. She was a full grown woman now, wife and mother, but even as a queen she was always his sister, and he loved her as a little boy always would his big sister. The scent of the island was gone from her hair now, but he breathed deeply anyway, in case this was his last chance ever to do so. "Susan," he said, but he could only get the first syllable out before his voice caught. "I love you too, Su. And you're just as brave for standing by me. Thank you."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else." She squeezed him tightly, kissed his cheek (they were of a height now, he was growing so fast he'd be taller than her in no time at all, she was near standing on tiptoes as it was, surely this wasn't the end for him?) and let go of him, though she couldn't help but smooth his shirt over his shoulders and muss with his hair a bit before she let go of him completely. She refused to cry, at least until Edmund was out of sight. "You'd better go," she whispered. "Don't want you to miss your train."
It was a lie--she would give anything for Edmund to miss it, and be safe, for all of them to be safe, but to try to talk him out of it now would be unfair to Edmund, and she knew it. She had to let him go.
Such a normal turn of phrase, but for them in this minute it was anything but ordinary. Their lives had ceased to be ordinary ages ago, back when they'd picked up swords and shields, bows and arrows for a land and a lion they hardly knew. Edmund had nearly given his life for Peter then, and the same fool-hardy courage that had held him then gripped him now, gave him the strength to nod and kiss Susan's cheek. It was the only thing that could encourage his feet to move.
"I'll see you again," Edmund said, and with all the doubts and worries and questions plaguing his mind, he knew that to be true no matter what. "Soon," he added, which was less certain, but something he felt he had to believe to make it true.
Susan just nodded at that. If he didn't come back to the island, she might not see him at all, much less not soon. She might have been able to go to the Narnia the island had conjured up for her, but the real one was off-limits to her. She wouldn't allow herself to think about that, though.
"Go on, now." She touched his cheek for a moment, and let her hand fall away with a sound that was part laugh, part sob. "Before I change my mind and try to talk you out of it again."
Edmund wished he could give her something to ease her pain, but that could only be his hand and he couldn't linger any longer. "Goodbye, Su," he said, not breaking now for both their sakes, and turned to meet his train.
They had their own compartment, which they really didn't need what with Peter staying by Jill's side. But the privacy was nice, if only so they could be alone in their fear of what was to come and not have to share it with a train full of strangers. Edmund sat propped against the window, eyes directed outside at the passing scenery but tracking nothing. He was thinking of what he had to do and what would happen, not the right now.
Susan had gone along with Edmund, hoping she could convince him that he didn't need to be doing this. Because it was Edmund, she didn't think there was very much chance she would actually manage to change his mind, but she had to try. She didn't say anything for a long time, looking out the window. Her jumper was folded in her lap, and she held it so tightly her hands were beginning to ache.
"Edmund..." She glanced at him across the compartment, and her voice faltered.
Edmund came back to the present at the sound of her voice. He'd been thinking a hundred different things and, shamefully, none of them about Susan. He tried to smile for her, then got up from his seat to sit beside her. "Don't worry, Su," he said quietly. "Really, don't."
"How am I not supposed to worry?" She shifted in her seat so she was more like facing him. "Please, don't do this, Edmund."
"Because this is the way it goes, Su," he said as soothingly as possible without actually being patronizing. Having been talked down to for many years, Edmund took great care not to do the same to others. "You said it turns out alright, really. We all go to Aslan's country." It was something to be pleased with, but Edmund couldn't sound very cheerful. "And if this is that dream of home like you said happened before, then I'll go right back to the island. I'll wake up."
"But this isn't the way it goes," Susan insisted. "You've got years and years left before this happens! I'm telling you, this is an island trick--if it wasn't, you'd all be your proper ages like Lucy is and I wouldn't even be here. And we don't know what happens to people back there if they die here." She almost choked on that word, but at this point she was desperate enough that she skittered right over it.
"Four," Edmund inserted quietly. Four years were far more than a few days, but they didn't seem like much to Edmund just then, sitting on this speeding train as he thought of Narnia and Tabula Rasa, places where time all but stopped. Years could pass there and only an instant changed here, in good old England.
"We don't know the island any better than we know magic," Edmund reasoned, keeping his voice calm and steady, more likely for his own benefit than Susan's. "Maybe it's just simple magic that's changed things about." The implication, of course, was that any magic unrelated to the island that didn't put an icy stab of fear into Edmund's heart was Narnian magic, Aslan's magic, and good for all it was unpredictable. "Besides, Su... If this weren't right, don't you think.. something would have happened by now? We saw a vision of that poor man, plain as day. If we're not meant to try to help him, then why are we here? And why wouldn't Aslan do something to stop it?"
"I don't know!" Susan wasn't doing quite as well at keeping a calm and reasoned voice as Edmund was, though she was trying her best not to sound hysterical. "If everything's meant to be like it was before, why am I here? I'm not meant to be here helping you chase down these rings, I'm supposed to be back on Tabula Rasa with my son."
Susan let go of her jumper and took Edmund's hands--whether to try better to make her point better, or to try to hold on to him longer, she didn't know. "I know you want to believe this is Aslan's doing and you're doing something good and noble, but that's what this place does. It makes you think you're back home and it's business as usual but it isn't, and if you get yourself killed here we don't know what's going to happen to you there or anywhere else."
"Su," Edmund said, trying to stay calm when his sister's outburst just made him want to hug her and hide. He could do this, would do this, if only he didn't think about the worst of the consequences. "Su, if you're right and this is all a dream, then I'll be fine. You can't die in dreams, not when I'm asleep in bed back on the island. My body's safe and this is all in our heads. But I can't risk believing this isn't true and just let something terrible in Narnia without even trying to stop it."
Obviously trying to convince him that this wasn't real wasn't going to work, and Susan was getting desperate. "But you don't know that," she protested, and her eyes stung with tears. That made her angry, because she didn't want to look like the stupid hysterical girl; she wanted to be reasonable and logical.
It was difficult to be reasonable and logical when you were trying to convince your brother not to throw his life away.
"You don't know that just because it's a dream that it can't hurt you," she begged. And now that the sensible reasons hadn't swayed him, all that were left were the selfish reasons, the ones she hadn't really wanted to admit out loud--but they were the only ones she hadn't given him. "I don't want to watch you die again," she whispered. "It doesn't matter whether it's real or a dream; I can't do it again."
Now he did break down a little and wrap his arm around Susan's shoulders, pulling her tight beside him. It didn't feel like a dream; the train rocked gently every so often, and he could still smell a hint of salt spray and sun in Susan's hair. It didn't feel like it, but feelings could often be misleading. Edmund had felt safe beside a woman in white once too, and he couldn't have placed himself in more danger then.
"You won't be there," he said quietly, and even though he was young and speaking softly, there were times Edmund still sounded like the wise king he once was. "You'll be off on your own somewhere, and you'll go to sleep at night and wake up on the island with Jon and Rickon, and we'll all be there safe and sound again. You won't do it again, Su. I'm not going to die."
Edmund sounded so grown-up and confident that Susan very much wanted to believe him, but she just couldn't. She sat there quietly for a few moments, leaning against his shoulder, listening to the sound of the train clacking along the rails and wishing this would all be over by nightfall. She kept thinking of his words, you won't be there, and wondering if ... no. She couldn't go with him. Even if she were meant to--and she wasn't--there was Rickon. Susan missed her son horribly, and in those moments she wasn't thinking of her brothers' fate she was thinking of her precious, headstrong child... no matter what she may or may not have wanted for herself, there was not a doubt in her mind that she had to take the course of action that she felt would give her the best chance of getting back to him. Still, she would not abandon her brother so easily.
"If you think I'm going to be off 'somewhere else'..." She shook her head. "Oh, well, Edmund doesn't agree, I'm leaving... no, it doesn't work like that."
"You can't be in the station with me, Su." Edmund didn't snap, but he was firm in this, unhesitating, and looked at Susan as though he could will her to understand. "We don't know how... how bad things will be. You can't be with me at the last." He couldn't save her from heartbreak now, but he wouldn't let her take the chance he was taking, not with Rickon and Jon back home and the life she was meant to go on leading here.
"No," she agreed, but reluctantly. Part of her wanted to argue with him again that if it was that bad, why was he doing it? But thinking about it was making her sick, and if these were her last hours with Edmund she didn't want to spend them arguing. There had been too much of that in her time anyway. "I can't. But until then, I'll be with you." She stopped short of promising she wouldn't try to talk him out of it again, even though she knew now there was no getting through to him.
"Thanks," Edmund said, giving Susan's shoulders another squeeze. For all his somber determination, Edmund did not want to face this alone, did not want to spend a day wandering a city he couldn't even call home anymore without anyone to hold his hand. He didn't have to do anything at the end of all this, just stand there. But right now he had to live and that was the scary part. "I mean that, Su," he said softer. "Thank you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
The rest of the train ride passed without note, as most train rides are once you've gotten over the excitement of seeing trees and fields whoosh by you at an incredible speed. Susan and Edmund were uninterested in this, as they had ridden trains many times before and had seen country whoosh by them from the back of a Talking Horse or a griffin or a particularly wonderful lion. They remained close, neither dozing as they were too nervous for that, until the train made the slow, squeaking halt at the station. Edmund could not help but hear the sound as especially loud.
They walked the city, got a bite to eat and found suitable coveralls for Edmund to act in. It wasn't like any sort of holiday you or I have ever taken, much sadder in fact, but also much more memorable. Susan held her brother's hand and they walked familiar streets until the night air nipped their noses red and they could no longer pretend that the day would last forever. They bedded down in a hostel and rose early the next morning as neither had slept very well.
Fetching the rings was the easiest part. Edmund walked into the yard while dew was still on the grass, with no hesitation and completely confident. Noo one questioned his being there once, if they even ever saw him. The digging took longer than it might have with two, but it was all over in very little time indeed. They sent a wire back to the others and finally, all that was left to do was wait.
It was an early train, and though he tried Edmund couldn't manage to get breakfast down. It didn't seem to matter much ultimately. A full stomach wouldn't change anything. So he and Susan walked to the station, taking their time, but even so they arrived with fifteen minutes to spare, just for them to mill around outside and wait.
Susan had followed Edmund every step of the way, not wanting to waste a single moment of their time in case it was the last of it. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but none of them seemed right, so she was far quieter than usual. By the time they made it to the station, Susan found her steps dragging, as if she could make Edmund miss the train with her slowness. But that wasn't enough, and they were there in plenty of time.
Susan felt as if she were going to be sick.
"If you don't come back," she blurted, desperate for anything to say, "do you want me to say anything to anyone? To Charlie?" She hadn't yet met him, but she would look for him if Edmund wanted her to.
He'd been trying not to think about that, trying to think of anything but that. What if he did die and went to that place like heaven? What about everyone he left behind?
"Tell him--" What? They'd been dating for little more than a week. Not that that week hadn't been greater than Ed could have imagined it to be, but it was still a week. "Tell everyone I love them and will miss them," he said. Ed huffed out a short laugh and grinned ruefully as a thought came to him. "Even Arya."
Even Susan couldn't help but laugh a little at that, even if it was a slightly tearful laugh. "Even Arya," she repeated, nodding. "I promise. Oh, Edmund--" The laughter was gone now, but the tears remained, and she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly. "Even if I don't want you to do this, I'm still proud of you for it. You're one of the bravest people I know, and I love you." She had to let go of him soon, to let him catch the train, but she was finding it impossible. Just one more moment, her heart begged. Just in case.
Edmund hugged her back just as tightly. She was a full grown woman now, wife and mother, but even as a queen she was always his sister, and he loved her as a little boy always would his big sister. The scent of the island was gone from her hair now, but he breathed deeply anyway, in case this was his last chance ever to do so. "Susan," he said, but he could only get the first syllable out before his voice caught. "I love you too, Su. And you're just as brave for standing by me. Thank you."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else." She squeezed him tightly, kissed his cheek (they were of a height now, he was growing so fast he'd be taller than her in no time at all, she was near standing on tiptoes as it was, surely this wasn't the end for him?) and let go of him, though she couldn't help but smooth his shirt over his shoulders and muss with his hair a bit before she let go of him completely. She refused to cry, at least until Edmund was out of sight. "You'd better go," she whispered. "Don't want you to miss your train."
It was a lie--she would give anything for Edmund to miss it, and be safe, for all of them to be safe, but to try to talk him out of it now would be unfair to Edmund, and she knew it. She had to let him go.
Such a normal turn of phrase, but for them in this minute it was anything but ordinary. Their lives had ceased to be ordinary ages ago, back when they'd picked up swords and shields, bows and arrows for a land and a lion they hardly knew. Edmund had nearly given his life for Peter then, and the same fool-hardy courage that had held him then gripped him now, gave him the strength to nod and kiss Susan's cheek. It was the only thing that could encourage his feet to move.
"I'll see you again," Edmund said, and with all the doubts and worries and questions plaguing his mind, he knew that to be true no matter what. "Soon," he added, which was less certain, but something he felt he had to believe to make it true.
Susan just nodded at that. If he didn't come back to the island, she might not see him at all, much less not soon. She might have been able to go to the Narnia the island had conjured up for her, but the real one was off-limits to her. She wouldn't allow herself to think about that, though.
"Go on, now." She touched his cheek for a moment, and let her hand fall away with a sound that was part laugh, part sob. "Before I change my mind and try to talk you out of it again."
Edmund wished he could give her something to ease her pain, but that could only be his hand and he couldn't linger any longer. "Goodbye, Su," he said, not breaking now for both their sakes, and turned to meet his train.