~Two-One~

First the earth was flat
But it fattened up when we didn't fall off
Now we spin laps round the sun

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Digory peered into the darkness, trying to see if it was indeed lightening in the direction he gazed. It was. . .

The old professor stared into the night absently; remembering a long ago time; remembering the world that had been flat and empty but then suddenly became full and living. He smiled, thinking about it. Narnia must be spinning laps around the sun by now; how long had it gone on since he'd ventured there by accident with the aid of the rings?

Did Narnia still have a rising and setting sun– a waxing and waning moon? Or had it long ago died like he'd seen Charn die? Had the Witch gained control of it or had Aslan –great, glorious Aslan– defeated her? A new possibility came to him: perhaps both of those god-like beings had lost.

No, he shook his head, he'd bet two to one before saying such things. Aslan would not lose his kingdom and people; He would not let them suffer under Jadis for countless centuries. He was too good for that. Sighing tiredly, the professor moved to go to his study; there were some matters he must wrap up before retiring into his armchair with his pipe and a good book for the evening.

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All the gods lost 2-1
The host of heaven pointed out to us from light years away
We're surrounded by a billion galaxies

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It had been nearly twenty years since he had seen the Great Lion. Closer to forty since Jadis had been seen last, many of his people said. The young king bowed his blonde head, the long, sandy-colored locks falling over his face. All the gods lost, he thought in despair. They had neither a Great Lion to lead them nor a Witch with heart of Ice. They, the Narnians, had been fought over by immortals, and yet neither had returned to lay claim for decades.

He must acknowledge it.

They were lost without either god.

He tilted his head to stare up at the sky. He stared into the galaxies and innumerable planets that spread around in the firmament above them. The Narnians were alone –forgotten– so insignificant in the way of everything beyond their understanding that they were worth nothing more than silt when it came down to the grave and golden matters of the gods. Aslan had tired of their fantasies and simplicity; He had left them to perish because they were creations no longer close to Him.

They did not matter, perhaps. Surrounded by so many powerful and great galaxies, they fell into the void of uselessness. Lucian could not understand; he saw nothing but darkness for his people. He could offer no dawn in this falling shadow; his name was a name given by naive parents.

He was no light.

~0~

"We could come to them; we could control them. They are looking for a leader– for a god to bow down and serve." He stared down at the land far below them, so far away, so meaningless. But a land where they could be honored, worshiped; even more adored than they already were.

"We will not, Aliaani," the other replied, glancing in the same direction. "They are not ours to concern over. We did not have a hand in them; all we do is light their path and tell them what is to come with our dance through the sky."

"But we could; we could save them! We could have greater power over them than the One who has seen fit to abandon them so cruelly!" The Star whirled to look at the other.

"No, we shall not, Vithmiris; we will not concern ourselves with those teren-bound beings," Amalaric answered sharply. "They will die in time, and if they all are to die at once in some foolish battle, then we can do what we will, but until then, we watch them." The Star walked away, long silver hair trailing down his back showing his age.

Vithmiris turned again to peer down on the world below in thoughtful silence. He did not know then, but the hosts of the heavens would spend eternity looking down on those mortals of Lumea.

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Things are not always
Things are not always, how they seem
Will you be ready?
Will you be ready?

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"Very often, my dear, things are not always what they seem; very often," Professor Kirke told Susan sensibly when she admitted that Lucy sounded insane talking about a land beyond the fur coats of a wardrobe.

"I suppose. . ." Peter trailed off, looking a bit too tired and lost in his faded navy-blue bathrobe and his hair mussed from sleep. But Susan was silent, staring at Professor Kirke. Because she was paying attention to the old man, she was the only one to hear him whisper. Almost absently, and yet with such sharpness, such acuity, too.

"Things often change, drastically, rapidly; when the time comes, will you be ready?" He looked at her suddenly, their blue eyes meeting in an intense, understanding stare.

"Will you be ready if what Lucy says she truly sees comes to pass; and you realize within yourself that you can see it too?" he whispered urgently, as if it was of critical importance.

She found she did not know.

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The interim of life
Has got you tiptoed and pinning all your hopes
On the top dog of dreams

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They had fallen out of the wardrobe. The wardrobe Lucy had insisted lead to another world. Susan turned her head to look back at the coats still swaying from their pushing and shoving. Lucy had been right all along.

Peter looked over at Susan, concern on his face. "What shall happen to our subjects, dear sister? What shall become of my wife and children?" he asked in the speech patterns he had used for seventeen years. They seemed curious coming from a youth that was not a boy but not quite yet a man, and Susan had to focus hurriedly on his words and not on his face to stop the fear overwhelming her.

Edmund looked at him, horror in dark eyes which held too much wisdom for the small boy he was again. "I do not think any one of us can say, my brother, my King," he murmured, staring blankly back at the wardrobe along with Susan in consternation.

"I know we feel lost in this moment, sister, my brothers, but Aslan knows better than we; surely He has a greater design than we could fathom! We must not lose hope; for we shall surely return to our country and people," Lucy spoke up. They all turned to her, perhaps with a little too much blatant desperation upon their faces and reflecting in their eyes.

But they were desperate. They had lost all they loved– all they truly knew. They drank in her hope and optimism because they had nothing else. They felt stripped of their Justice, their Gentleness, their Magnificence; she was the only shining light they had left; she was their Valiance.

They placed all their hopes on that one great idea; that they would return; that Aslan Knew, that He Understood. Things grew painfully hard; how could you go back to being nothing when you had once been revered and respected? How could you try to let something go when it had been wholly yours just a moment before the world spun wildly and everything changed?

Still, they placed their hopes and pains on the fact that they would surely return; that then, everything wrong would come aright.

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You're not alone in this
The polyfilla way looks strong in the weakness
Of the gaps

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"Don't you ever get tired of being treated like a kid?"

"I think it's time we accept that we live here."

They were two people trying to find a way to move past something they loved. They were trying to come to terms with the idea that the hope they had lived on for a year was wishful-thinking and nothing but foolish dreams.

A man and a woman, trapped in the bodies of children unable to handle the strain their adult conscious put upon them. They could not understand why they had been forgotten; why they had somehow been overlooked though they had once been unable to be passed by in the streets without some sign of recognition.

Peter had never allowed a young man to undermine him merely because they thought they were better or smarter than he; just as he would not allow someone to shove him into the wall merely because there was very little room on the stairs. He would have let them pass– he was not so arrogant as to assert his higher rank in such an undignified way as to deny them first passage.

But he would not apologize for his presence. He would not humble himself and act as if his existence were something to be ashamed of– which was what he knew they wanted. They were like Telmarines: always hoping to force you to the floor and plead for some scrap of dignity hardly remaining after they had you where they wished you to grovel. He remembered grabbing the boy, this child claiming himself a man and boasting about how many soldiers he would kill if he was allowed to enter the war raging around them, threatening to knock the very building they stood in down around their heads.

He remembered telling him quietly that he should not speak those insulting words to him again, that he would not apologize because he had done nothing sinful or guilty. Then he remembered some words uttered by the boy meant to insult, but only made him smile, emotionless, before he hit him.

Susan had never allowed her beauty to blind her; she had never let it cloud her judgment. Not even with Rabadash. That had been something unforeseeable on both her and Edmund's part. She had thought if she refused the man she was four years senior over by letter, it would be unfeeling and too harsh. She had thought that if she were to go to him and tell him plainly she was too different from him –too much a ruling queen– used to giving orders and making laws, he might understand. When she learned he only thought of her as a trophy, something with which to force an alliance between Narnia and Calorman so they might use her and her siblings' lands, she was enraged and left forthwith. She was no prize for such a spoilt southern prince!

But here in this world, here others only saw her beauty, her seemingly quiet and ladylike attitude. She had tried to fit in with the other young women of the times, but it was forcing her to forget part of herself, and it confused her and hurt so much, though she tried to close off these feelings to people around her– even to her siblings. She was forcing herself to accept this fate –this world– but it ached!

When her brother told them that he was tired of being treated so childishly she wanted to scream, to cry out with agonizing ecstasy and sob with sorrowful relief; to tell him she did understand; that they felt one and the same! But no, she calmly said unfeeling, meaningless words! She tried to feign annoyance at him, which quickly became real annoyance because he was broaching the subject which she longed for day and night; the subject that haunted her dreams and plagued her mind when it wandered.

They ignored the holes in their reality and in their minds where the truth broke through, in favor of the less sufferable path of cracking plaster; threatening to fall to pieces at the mere viewing of their beloved Narnia. They thought the other the only one with this outlook; perhaps if they had shared their thoughts and fears they would have found they thought the same; that they were not alone because they were together.

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Things are not always
Things are not always how they seem
They don't turn out always
Don't quite turn out always how we think
Will we be ready?
Will we be ready?

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"Everything you know is about to change. . ."

Caspian beheld the world around him with eyes containing shocked horror.

Nothing was how it seemed– everything was lies and shadows! There was nothing to hold onto as his world fell away and revealed something underneath which was the suppressed and buried truth of centuries. He was pushed over to the edge, forced to accept everything in a rush, in a haze, before the dust settled and only those who agreed and supported remained. When it finally did, he had no idea who he was; what his place in this new and rapidly rising world was.

Was he the prince who was to be king or the boy destined to die? He did not know; he needed someone to tell him who he was– what he was.

For he had not the slightest idea.

~0~

This was not what they had imagined it to be.

This was not Narnia, they thought, appalled, horrified! This was some lost civilization, some abandoned people. They found that they had been turned into demigods of some degree; foretold to be heroes who would guide a long-buried culture into the light of a dawning new age. They had done it once, so why not again? Susan ached for Peter, who seemed to banish all thought of his dead wife and children to throw himself into this role. He used this excuse of rebuilding Narnia to pretend the pain did not exist; that he was just a young man with every goal set on bringing the Telmarines to heel and reminding them just what the kingdom of Narnia was; just how powerful her monarchs had been.

It soon outraged her, this lack of memory and loss on his part, though of course she did not show it except in little insinuations and jabs. How could he pretend they had never existed? That he had not loved his wife? He turned into some battle-hardened warrior before her eyes, and she did not understand.

When they finally found Caspian, she had seen the flash of realization in Peter's eyes as he fought him anyway; it was then she realized he had not forgotten the past. He had not locked it away as if it had never been. Though she had cried his name, she had not the heart to reprimand him as she might have once, even if it was wrong what he had done.

She found herself looking from her brother to Caspian; she felt a stab of betrayal when she looked back at her brother. Peter only stared at her with dead eyes, hate burning deep within them. The feeling of betrayal grew, though for a long while she didn't know what she had done besides look at a man that had for decades been on the side of their enemies. It was only later that she realized how she had hurt her brother.

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I'm dying to know, what's in your head
I'm dying to know, how it all got in there
I'm dying to know, to help make some sense of it all
I'm dying to know
Tell me is it my fault?

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"Peter, now we must truly accept that we live here."

She turned away from him, wrapping her arms tighter about herself as she sat down on the train. She didn't understand! She didn't know why this was happening again. They were being pushed from their world once more; this time for eternity upon eternity! She watched him as he left the train; as he left her and Lucy and walked beside Edmund towards the group of young men and boys bound for Hendon House. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Why had he not opened up to her? Surely he knew she suffered in a similar manner?

"But it's Narnia, Su; don't you want to talk about it?"

She could not believe he was asking her this four years later; of course she had wanted to talk about it! She had begged him to tell her what he had been thinking long ago in letters, and the short calls allowed them by the headmaster and mistress of their respective schools. But now it was too late; she had banished those thoughts; she had forbidden herself to think of them. But she couldn't help it, so she whispered to him, desperately, longingly, what she had always hoped to ask him after their last adventure.

"I've died to know what's in your head, how it all got there."

She turned away from him, whirled as she might have as queen of Narnia light-years ago. She wanted to push him away as he had her in those few weeks after they'd returned. She wanted him to feel the confusion, the agony, of being unable to understand when he wanted nothing else. But suddenly she found that he held her wrist tightly and pulled her back to his side.

"What?"

His voice was just as harsh, just as much a king of Narnia as she was a queen. He sounded like he was interrogating a prisoner, she thought, laughing mirthlessly on the inside though outwardly she was a fraction away from breaking down.

"I was dying to know; for you to help me make some sense of it all. I wanted to know; I thought we were finally on the same level. I had believed myself in love with that prince, and I know you once loved that woman, but you ignored me! And so I killed that part of my soul; I locked it away from the light because I thought that's what you had done. Can you imagine my surprise to realize you had not done so after all?"

She whispered her innermost thoughts to him, passing the words over her lips as if they were the bitterest of liquors. She wanted him to release her, and he did. He stared at her, eyes filled with reproach and. . . perhaps something of disgust.

"Tell me, is it my fault? Is it my fault that the Narnia we all knew –and your beloved wife– is dead? I didn't know, oh, how you confused me! I cried because I did not understand, and then I moved on! So, now you must live with what you have made me; perhaps you did so unknowingly, but still, this creation that is me has become your creation. I am what I am because you pushed me away when I needed you most. When I needed a brother, you gave me the king; but that shouldn't have surprised me, when I needed the brother in Narnia you always gave me the king, how could this world have been different?"

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And I care about you, darling

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"I care about you."

He whispered the words as he held her close. She almost trembled upon hearing them. How long had it been since she had heard those words spoken honestly and without shame? Ages! Ages and ages. Peter had forgotten to tell them to his siblings; even when they had become children again, he had forgotten. She did not want to leave this king of two peoples, this man belonging now in some sick turn of fate to two luridly different worlds as she did, but her place was as queen beside her brother the king. Not here, not with him.

He would find someone else, she was certain. He would forget her– everyone forgot things in due time.

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And I care about you
Course I care about you
More than anyone else

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"And I care about you; more than anyone else."

She had whispered those words to him as she pulled away. She found it was true; she cared more abut him in a way than she had ever cared for another human being. Her brother was angry about this betrayal of her heart, but she was not; Peter had forgotten how to be her leader, her king, her brother; she no longer cared if he thought her wrong for falling in love.

Nevertheless, she turned away from Caspian. As they walked to the train, after. . . after everything, she looked up at the impassive figure her brother cut; more magnificent and imperious than he had looked before they'd entered Narnia.

"Do you care about us?"

She had asked him plainly, unable disguised her question in any other way.

"Of course I care about you."

His reply was stiff, fake. She had wanted to cry when she heard him speak, believing that she had lost her brother in that instant because of all he had suffered and endured and lost in Narnia. How ironic that it is she in the end of it all who was lost and he that was not! After all those years, he had been recovering while she fell.

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Things are not always
Things are not always how they seem
They don't turn out always
Don't quite turn out always how we think
Will we be ready?

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"Very often, my friends, things do not turn out always how they seem. . . Very often." Digory told them as they sat in the garden one afternoon after coming back through the wardrobe. He was telling of his Narnian adventure, and they had in turn indulged his eagerly-listening ears with theirs.

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"This did not turn out quite how I thought it would. . ." Caspian whispered, staring at the people around him, staring at the castle, feeling empty and dazed.

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"Perhaps it will come to pass that you truly accept that you cannot go back to that Narnia, but might someday." Digory looked at them seriously.

"Will we be ready?" Peter stared at his siblings. Would they be ready to face that when it came?

"Will we?"

A/N:

I was listening to 2-1 by Imogen Heap and thought it fit Narnia surprisingly well. Though, it does bring out a certain dark element of it I had never really dwelt upon long before. It would make for an interesting Narnia music video, I was thinking. Pity those "Powers That Be" thought it too dark for the credits of Prince Caspian, it actually works really well; besides, it's not like anyone really lets the credits play; they wouldn't have even known about it.

The really interesting idea that came of this was that it was Peter's fault Susan stopped believing in Narnia and Aslan and everything. I had never thought of the idea before, and was quite stunned when I did. I might be tempted to do more on that if anyone wants.

Until then, Lucian is the son of Peter (one of my OCs) and his name, like Lucy's, means "light."

The Stars are another of my OCs, though not those two; them I wrote specifically for this fic.

I can't stand Suspian, yet again I write about it; something draws me to it, I don't know why.

I own nothing; not Narnia, not 2-1's lyrics– nothing, thank you.

Please R&R,

WH