Title: Crossing Borders
Author:
maaike_fluffyFandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: 'The Chronicles of Narnia' were created and written by C. S. Lewis. I do not own anything you might recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Prince Caspian and the Pevensies continue their life after their farewell, but none of them can stop dwelling on the past. The, Caspian makes a decision; if she can't come to him, then he'll have to find her. Movie-verse. Not beta-ed. Banner by
elliania. Beta-ed by
sedri. *hugs both of them*
Chapter 1 /
Chapter 2 /
Chapter 3 /
Chapter 4 /
Chapter 5 /
Chapter 6 /
Chapter 7 /
Chapter 8 /
Chapter 9 /
Chapter 10 /
A/N: Sorry it took me so long. This was not an easy one. I have a couple of things to say. First and foremost I have finally decided to get a beta; this fic is getting too big to pass as just a little thing anymore. My never ending gratitude to Sedri for making time for me and nitpicking on my comma's. Darling, you are magnificent. Yes, I said magnificent. Like Peter. High Beta, Beta of all Betas... I added some changes after she last saw it so any mistakes you see are mine... not hers. Then, secondly, after last chapter there have been several threats to Peter's life, and as much as those amuse me: cut the poor boy some slack. He's not the bad guy in the story.
11. Pipes and Maps
Caspian frowned. “Where does the hot water come from?”
He was standing in a small room with white tiles on the walls and floors. Some things in here Caspian recognised-such as the sink and the bathtub-while others were new to him; the chair with the hole in it looked very strange indeed. Currently he was looking at the bathtub, and Lucy had just shown him the metal knobs that could produce water. Lucy called them taps, which Caspian found strange because you had to turn them, and not tap them, if you wanted them to work.
“There are pipes in the walls and floors and under the houses,” Lucy explained. “The taps are just the endings.”
“But then where do the pipes get it?”
Lucy shut her mouth and furrowed her brow. “I don’t know…” she admitted after a while. “You’d have to ask Peter.”
“Ask me what?” Peter’s voice drifted from the hallway, and Caspian and Lucy turned in time to see him poke his head through the doorway. His eyes found Caspian and his expression turned a little sour. Caspian looked away quickly.
“Where the water comes from.” Lucy was either oblivious to the sudden tension, or she had decided to ignore it, because her voice sounded as bright as always.
“From the water purification plant, Lu,” Peter answered curtly. “They filter it, clean it, and transport it to us.”
“And the hot water?” Lucy inquired.
“We have a boiler in the attic.”
Lucy smiled at Caspian and raised her eyebrows in a way that clearly said; ‘Well, there you go’, and Peter’s face disappeared from the doorway. With a swift thank-you to Lucy, Caspian quickly followed him. Peter had only taken a few steps was Caspian caught up with him.
‘Er, Peter? I was wondering if you could help me with something?” Caspian felt thoroughly uncomfortable asking a favour from somebody who was clearly unhappy with his presence, and if it hadn’t been necessary, he would have avoided it. But Caspian could not see a way around it.
Peter turned around, and looked at Caspian questioningly.
“You see, the problem is, I didn’t bring any clothes,” Caspian said sheepishly. “I only have one pair of Narnian clothes, and this was given to me by Rose-an old lady I met on the way-but it is filthy now, and I was wondering if I could-”
“Borrow some?” Peter finished his question for him, and Caspian nodded. “I don’t think you’d fit in my clothes,” Peter replied promptly. “Or Edmund’s.”
Caspian grimaced. He’d have to wash these and wear his too hot Narnian attire in the mean time.
“But I think you are about my father’s size,” Peter unexpectedly continued and he walked past Caspian to a door just opposite the bathroom. Caspian was invited in with a small jerk of the head.
It was strange, but Caspian had never given their parents a thought before. The Kings and Queens; they were iconic-legendary-their deeds literally spread over ages. Caspian had always subconsciously assumed they had always been this way; youthful and wise. He entered the bedroom solemnly, as if he were treading holy ground. Even if he’d heard nothing about Mr and Mrs Pevensie, their parentage alone demanded great respect; they must be great people indeed to have raised the four splendid Kings and Queens.
Most of the space in the room was taken up by a large bed with white covers. Matching curtains hung from a large window that looked out on row after row of houses similar to the one he was currently in. The paper on the walls were cream-colored, and illustrated with some kind of purple flower; no doubt Mrs Pevensie’s taste. Peter paid no attention to the room, but walked straight to the wardrobe. If fact, Caspian would have thought Peter was trying to ignore him until the latter suddenly spoke up.
“You must think I dislike you, because I was less than thrilled to see you,” Peter said, turning around with his arms full of clothes. Caspian made himself meet the High King’s eyes and nodded. “I don’t.” Peter dropped the clothes on the bed and leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed. “But I do not regret what I said.”
Caspian, who had been in the process of reaching for the clothes, pulled back. The clothes could wait; this needed to be straightened out first. But he did not say anything yet, giving Peter the opportunity to explain himself.
“As High King the wellbeing of the Narnians is important to me above all else; something like this I cannot ignore. I am well aware that I am the only one of my siblings who thinks this way, but I cannot change my opinion.”
Caspian nodded, nervous but also relieved that Peter had breached the subject. “I understand your opinion,” he said earnestly. “And I think that, if I had been in your place, my reaction would have been similar. I wish I could say I regret coming here, but I would be lying. I wish I had a way of explaining my conviction that what I did was right.”
Peter was silent for a bit, and then nodded too. “I see. Do you agree with my sister’s theory that it was Aslan that send you here?”
“It would certainly explain, yes,” Caspian said, truthfully.
Peter started pacing as he replied. “I know that my sister understands the ways of Narnia. Better, perhaps, than the rest of us do. But I cannot help but thinking that, even if it was by Aslan’s will and approval that you came here, it was your own decision to leave.”
Caspian had to think back for a moment to the last time he had woken up in Narnia. He could not remember having consciously taken the decision to go. It had haunted him for months and he had simply woken that night, convinced beyond all doubt. But it would be untrue to say Aslan had decided for him. After all, Caspian’s whim hadn’t paid off; the tree had sealed itself. It was Caspian, and Caspian alone, who had taken matters into his own hands and had gone to Lantern Waste. He could have stopped if he’d felt it was wrong. “Yes,” he therefore answered. “Yes, that it was.”
“Then I cannot help but hold you partially responsible for leaving Narnia.” Peter’s expression was stern, but Caspian could find no trace of anger in it, and for that he was grateful. He had hoped for the approval of the High King-the one he had always idolized most-but if acceptance was all he could have then he ought to be grateful. “But I could have been more graceful when I said this the first time. I don’t wish for our disagreement to be the cause of strife. If Aslan has allowed you to come here, then so shall I.”
Caspian knew a peace offering when he saw one, and extended his hand. “Thank you, Peter,” he said, when Peter took it.
It is remarkable how much better a meal tastes when one has been hungry for a long time. No offence to Susan’s cooking skill, but Caspian was used to dining like a royal. Yet the rhubarb that Susan had prepared seemed to him the best thing he had ever tasted. Likewise, Mr Pevensie’s clothes were exceedingly comfortable after the tight and too-short outfit he had gotten from Rose, and he was very much aware of the fact how clean he was now. In fact, the only thing that was remotely uncomfortable was the skin on his face and neck, which had been burnt in the hot sun. But this, too, would fade in a few days. For the first time since his arrival, Caspian allowed himself to relax.
The atmosphere at the table was slightly tense; despite his talk with Peter, the air hadn’t been entirely cleared. The eldest still didn’t approve of Caspian’s presence, even if he grudgingly accepted it, and though he clearly attempted to keep the conversation going, it was obvious to everyone. Luckily there was more than enough to talk about over dinner, so much in fact, that Caspian found that eating was progressing very slowly, and that diner took much longer than it usually did. He was pressed to tell more about what had happened in Narnia since their farewell almost five months ago-Lucy in particular wanted to know how Trumpkin was faring-and all of them seemed to have an opinion on the political problems of Narnia. Caspian, however, was much more interested in this new world he found himself into, and gradually the conversation changed in his favour.
“Are you at war?” was Caspian’s first question.
Edmund nodded, looking sombre. “And not just us-England I mean. It’s a big one, this war, loads of other countries are involved too.”
Lucy suddenly got up quickly. “Wait, I’ll get a map,” she said, and then ran off.
Edmund watched her leave for a second before he continued. “Many different countries have formed alliances, and there is two large groups now.”
Caspian tried to picture this in his own world. He knew the countries near Narnia; Galma, Archenland, Calormen, Ettinsmoor, but the lands beyond that were unknown to him. Like most Telmarines, he didn’t even know the exact location of Telmar. Was a war of this scale possible?
Lucy returned with a map soon, and Caspian was stunned to realise exactly how many countries there were, but also to find that they were all known and inhabited…
“This is England.” Lucy, who stood next to Caspian’s chair, had laid the map on the table in front of him-Susan had pulled Caspian’s plate out of the way before the back of the map was smeared with rhubarb-and tapped at the larger of two small islands. “That’s where we are now.” She climbed onto Peter’s lap and snuggled comfortably against him.
“Yes, and this is Germany, Japan, Italy…” Peter pointed out several other countries, whose names Caspian forgot as soon as they were mentioned. “Those are the biggest opponents. They call themselves the Axis.”
“And we’re the Allies,” Lucy added with a yawn.
“What’s the war about?” Caspian inquired, staring at the foreign looking map.
“What are wars usually about?” Susan, who had stayed rather quiet suddenly replied. “Power. Land. Delusions of grandeur. The war is more a combination of various smaller wars, and the countries decided to join forces to get stronger. It’s kind of complicated.”
“So, why is England fighting?” Caspian looked up from the map and fixed his eyes on Susan instead. Susan pulled up a chair next to him, and Caspian tried not to think about his proximity to her. Especially not under the watchful eyes of both her brothers. Instead he focussed on what she was explaining.
“After the first World War-there was one before-Germany-” she pointed at a country that had been mentioned before, “-lost a lot. The winners of that last war-which is us and France, for the most part-made a treaty so they couldn’t grow stronger again.”
“They broke it,” Edmund added. “They have this leader, Hitler, and he’s leading them all to war. They want to rule the whole of Europe, thinking they are some kind of superior race. They already took many countries, including France.” Edmund winced slightly. “That was a harsh blow.”
“And they want us too,” Susan took over again. “Since we live on an island, most of the fighting is done in the sky,” she elaborated when Caspian raised a confused eyebrow. “We invented machines to make us fly.”
“Really?” Caspian said, impressed. “I must remember to tell the Professor this.” Susan smiled and Caspian’s heart fluttered slightly. Whether or not anyone had noticed the look on his face, he didn’t know, but his sudden thump caused Caspian to look away from Susan. The thump had been Lucy’s head, when it hit the wooden table.
“Bed,” Peter said decidedly. Caspian was surprised to notice it was getting dark outside. Their conversation over dinner had taken them a long time indeed.
“But I’m not tired,” Lucy objected, yawning.
“Yes, you are,” Peter said fondly. “Come along.”
There was a scraping of chairs, and a minute later Peter and Lucy had left the room… and so had Edmund. Caspian never saw him leave, and hadn’t even noticed it until Susan shouted, “Ed! Ed, come back here!”
There was no reply, and Susan huffed in indignation. “He does that every day; sneaks out whenever there is cleaning to be done. Always just, except when it comes down to the dishes.” She pursed her lips disapprovingly, and snatched up the bowl that had held the rhubarb earlier in the evening.
“I can help in his place,” Caspian offered, but Susan waved it off quickly.
“Oh, Caspian, you don’t have to. You’re a guest,” she added. “Edmund needs to do his own-”
“It’s no problem,” Caspian insisted, and he picked up two plates. “I want to help.” The look on Susan’s face, and way she avoided to meet his eyes, caused him to lower the plates slightly. “Unless you are uncomfortable around me.” He was aware of being a little too straightforward, but he couldn’t help himself. She has been friendly enough since his arrival, but it seemed to Caspian that she was slightly avoiding him.
“Not at all!” Susan exclaimed, but Caspian noticed she still didn’t fully look him in the eye. “Of course you can help, if you want.” She scurried to the kitchen, and Caspian followed after. Something about her was off; she wasn’t the confident Queen he had met in Narnia. She was reluctant and… timid. Had he misinterpreted her? Did she regret what had been said and done in Narnia?
Caspian entered the kitchen a few seconds after Susan and put the plates in the sink, where there was already a fair pile of dirty dishes. The kitchen was painted a creamy white. It had the same kind of tiles that Caspian had been in the bathroom, but only above the stove. A wooden cabinet in the corner held clean dishes, and Caspian turned around again to take in more of the room when, to his surprise, he found that Susan was standing quite close to him. He had expected her to slip out of the kitchen quietly-not wanting to be alone with him-but there she still was. She was looking away, but her stance was rigid, and she seemed to be very much aware of him.
“This is new to me.” It came out as a blurt, and Susan herself seemed surprised that she had spoken. The patterns on the wall couldn’t be nearly as interesting as Susan seemed to find them, and the lack of eye contact made Caspian yearn to lift her chin with his finger, but he didn’t want to frighten her.
“What do you mean?” he asked instead, studying her face. “What’s new?”
“This…” Susan replied, and very briefly tore her eyes away from the wall to meet his. She quickly dropped them again. “You,” she added, and Caspian understood. It was for him too, to a certain degree. There had been women, daughters of dukes and other noblemen, that had expressed their interest in him. Miraz had encouraged Caspian to court them. That was, until Prunaprismia was revealed to be pregnant and might grant Miraz’ an heir. Admittedly, he had liked some of them, but none of them had ever made his heart jump to his throat just by looking in his direction. He searched for a reply; a way to reassure her… or maybe a cleverly placed joke to lift the tension, but found that he needn’t to.
“I didn’t mean to make you think you were unwelcome.” She looked nervous and bit her lip before she continued. “I just didn’t know what to do…” Without words, Caspian lifted her chin with a finger.
It was a wrong move; Susan’s eyes widened, and she recoiled. Caspian, who had been about to smile in what he hoped had been an encouraging smile, suddenly found himself searching for the right words. “Susan, you don’t have to… I mean, we…” He pulled a hand through his hair in frustration when Susan took a step back. “I-I am just as nervous I’ll say or do the wrong things as you are.” As soon as the words left his mouth he closed his eyes, berating himself and wishing he had said something else. He was trying to reassure her, not make everything even more insecure. Therefore he was surprised to see she was smiling when he opened his eyes.
“You are?” Caspian didn’t fully understand the surprised and pleased tone in her voice, but he was happy enough that his words had somehow worked. He nodded.
“I don’t like feeling I might ruin things if I say something wrong. I won’t mind if you do something wrong, so you don’t have to be nervous like that around me.”
“No need to be nervous around me either,” Susan said. Her voice was still shy, but she smiled and met his eye this time. Caspian smiled the encouraging smile he’d wanted to give her before, and was encouraged himself when he saw it worked.
“In that case, we should agree to not be nervous about each other and just say and do what we want.”
Susan nodded. “Agreed.” She paused for a second and then added. “When I… when we left, I didn’t think I’d see you again, so… I know I was too forward, but I thought I’d never get the change again, so I might as well…”
“Kiss me?” Caspian said with half a smile, and Susan nodded. “Then maybe we should imagine we won’t have another chance more oft-”
He was cut short, not by the dull thumps of footsteps, but by the loud voice of Susan that followed when she unexpectedly shouted; “Ed! Dishes!” A deep and resigned sigh sounded from the hallway. Susan smiled smugly, and Caspian was happy to see a twinkle in her eye.
“Looks like I won’t have to clean those in his place anymore.”
“You’re welcome to.” Caspian looked at the door; Edmund's footsteps were getting closer, but he’d much rather the Just King would give them a little more time. Then he felt the soft pressure of a light kiss on his cheek. Caspian’s head snapped towards her.
“I’m glad you came here.” Susan’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, and Caspian was unable to reply when Edmund opened the door and sulked in.
If Edmund had waited just a second longer, Caspian would have told her that he felt going here was the best thing he had done since blowing the horn.