Author's Note: After posting my oneshot "Sorted", which parallel's with Isaiah58's "Sorted", I got a request from Sentimental Star. She asked if I could write a fic in which Peter find out about Edmund's marks from the fights and his thoughts about it. I found it to be a wonderful idea, and so I accepted (not that I would turn down a request anyway). Here's the result, and I hope it is what SS was looking for. If not, I hope she, and all of you, like it.

Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

Edmund and I stepped off of the train, our sisters no longer with us. They had gotten off at the previous stop, leaving Edmund and me to travel on to our school by ourselves. Though we knew we were going to miss our sisters, we were both in high spirits. It was the start of a new semester and both of us had been replenished by our trip to Narnia.

I turned my head to face my younger brother. It had been so long since I had seen him this happy, and his smile made me grin as well. That train ride had been one of the best I had ever had. He and I, for the past several months, were at odds with each other over my behavior. I had acted beastly toward him, and our relationship had suffered for it. But, on the way back to school, things had been mended. Or, at least, I hoped they had. I had apologized and explained myself to him, and he had seemed to understand. I knew it would take time for him to fully forgive me, but I was willing to wait. I could see in his eyes how much my actions had hurt him, and I could only hope he would in time recover from the pain.

The two of us walked in silence toward our school, both of us looking better than we had in ages. There was a bounce in Edmund's step, the same bounce I could feel in my own. We were content again, willing to face what would come from this next semester. We were brothers again, closer than we had ever been in this world. As we walked our shoulders were brushing together ever so slightly, and neither of us made a move to stop it. We had walked like this in Narnia, once upon a time, as close to the other as we could get without stumbling over each other. It felt good to walk like that here.

I stole another glance at my brother, my smile fading momentarily. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, a shadow of some sort, but I could have sworn that, when Edmund's shirt had ruffled from his side, a bruise on his collar bone had peaked out.

After what seemed like ages, he and I reached our dormitory. Though we were a full three years apart, my mother had made special arrangements for us to share a room. It was one of the larger dorms, containing two beds, a desk, and two closets for our things. Without a moment's delay, he and I both moved to our own bunks and began unpacking. Shirt by shirt we filled our closets and book by book we filled the desk. It took nearly a half of an hour, but eventually we were fully moved in.

By the time we had finished, however, it was nearly time for lights out. I stripped my shirt and turned to head for the bathroom when I spotted Edmund undressing as well. My eyes widened in horror at the sight of his back. His skin was riddled with bruises and scratches, some old, some new. One his left shoulder blade was a large, almost oval-shaped scar. I winced internally, wondering when he had gotten that. Of course, I was fairly certain I knew the answer. After leaving Narnia the first time, he had borne no such scar. He had to have gotten it trying to help me, protect me.

Edmund chose that moment to turn his head. Our eyes locked, both equally terror-stricken. His entire body spun around to face me, trying to hide his back. Unfortunately, that only served to reveal what his front side looked like. It, too, was an array of colors, some spots just beginning to turn black and blue. The mark I had seen on his collar bone had been no shadow. A large contusion spread from the center of the right bone, moving down in a straight line, a clear marking from when he had been thrown onto one of the stairs at the train station. I frowned and gulped, my eyes beginning to water.

"Edmund-"

"Save it, Pete." He waved me off nonchalantly. "It's not like you look much better."

I looked down at my bare chest, a tear slipping down my cheek. He was right, of course. I was sporting my own fair share of bruises and cuts, and I could feel a black eye beginning to form as well. I raised my head once more to look my younger brother in the eye and apologize, but he had already turned around and was headed to grab his own towel.

"Edmund, wait." I followed him, placing a hand on his unscarred shoulder when I was within reach. He sighed and I waited, on edge, for him to shove my hand away. He did no such thing. Rather, he allowed me to turn him around and face me. His eyes were downcast, his chin pressing lightly against his Adam's apple. I took his chin in my free hand and lifted his head until his eyes met my own.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, combing my fingers through his hair. He turned his head to the side, refusing to look at me.

"For what?" He replied, his voice equally quiet. "It's not like you didn't try and prevent this. If I had ever learned to listen to a word you say, you would be the only one marked right now. So don't say 'I should have tried harder to keep you out' or 'I should have protected you better during all of those fights'. You know darn well that nothing you say can keep me out of a fight, and that I didn't want to be protected. So don't. Just…don't."

I winced as he spoke, his biting tone gnawing at my very core. He was right, of course. He would never have listened to me, even if I had tried harder to keep him out of it. And there was no way I could have protected him in the fights, either. He would have scolded me right there and told me to focus on the action, not his well-being. But he was wrong about one thing. That wasn't at all what I was sorry for.

"I'm sorry you never felt you could tell me about all of this." At this, his eyes flickered toward me for a moment, settling on my features before turning back to whatever he was staring at before. "I was wrong, Ed." I whispered, no longer able to keep the emotion from my voice. I wanted to continue. I wanted to go on to say that he had been right the entire time. I didn't need to get into those fights, I didn't need to do them by myself, and I certainly didn't need to push him away. But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to go on. I couldn't make myself comfort him.

He sighed listlessly, glancing over at his towel resting on the bed frame. I knew it was getting late, and that if we were going to get showers tonight we would have to hurry. But this couldn't wait. I didn't want him to go another second not knowing how much I never had it sorted.

"Edmund, listen to me." I pleaded, turning his chin to me once again. "Don't look away. Just hear me out." He sighed once more, but once I was sure no other form of protest would arise, I spoke up. "I know I've been…beastly…these past few months. And I know I said the exact same thing on the train this afternoon. But…" I paused, trying to think of how I could properly phrase this. "I never meant for you to get hurt."

At this, his eyes hardened a bit, and I knew I had said the wrong thing. He started to turn away from me again, but I took his face in both hands and held it, refusing to let him turn away until I had said what I wanted to say.

"That's not what I mean, Ed. I'm not talking about the bruises, the scratches, that bloody scar on your shoulder." He closed his eyes. I stroked his cheek once with my thumb. "I know I couldn't have stopped you from getting those. You would have broken through a battalion of my toughest friends if it meant getting to me when I needed you." I tried to laugh here, to ease the electricity in the air. It didn't work. I hadn't expected it to. "What I mean is, I never meant for you to get hurt emotionally. I never meant for you to lose trust in me. I never meant those things I said. I should have thanked you. I wanted to thank you, but I was too bloody proud to admit it. I had to convince myself I was right every single time. That I was right to fight and I was right to keep you away. It got harder – watching you flinch away more and more after every single fight – to tell myself that. But I did anyway. I had to tell myself that what I was doing was necessary, that it wasn't uncalled for. I was right, and you were wrong to want to stop me."

A tear slipped down Edmund's cheek and I quickly brushed it away with my thumb. I was crying by now as well, but I made no move to let go of his face. Instead, I simply tolerated the feeling of the tear until it dripped onto my bare shoulder.

"But I wasn't right. You know that better than anyone. I was wrong to ever think that I didn't need your help. I was wrong to think that I had it sorted. You haven't the foggiest idea, Ed, how much I didn't have it sorted."

I finally took a break from my monologue, gasping from want of air. I had said everything as quickly as I could, barely stopping for breath. He had needed to hear all of that. He needed to hear so much more. I couldn't let myself risk his ignoring a piece of it because of mortal needs. This went beyond mortality. This was my brother's trust in me.

I opened my mouth to continue once more when Edmund opened his eyes. His lips were quivering, his onyx eyes turning a light pink from the tears he had held back. I brushed his cheek once more, knowing that my eyes looked exactly the same. He focused on me for a few long seconds, studying my features with the same decoding expression I had seen so many times before. He was trying to figure me out. He was gauging the validity of my statement. Even before Narnia my brother had been a human polygraph. Being the Just King had only enhanced that ability, and when I saw his jaw relax a bit, I couldn't have been happier about that fact.

"I'm sorry I never thanked you." I whispered, closing my eyes this time. "I'm sorry I never let you help me."

I felt the unmistakable cooling heat of Edmund's hands nestle on the sides of my face. I opened my eyes slightly, my brows furrowing together at his expression. His eyes were spilling over once again, no effort made to restrain them. His hands cupped my cheeks as my hands did his, and, as I had done to him, he stroked away my tears with his thumb.

"I forgive you."

Author's Note: As I always have (and probably always will), I apologize for the ending. They simply don't seem to be my forte. But no matter. I'm pleased with what I wrote, so that last line can just suffer. Read, review, enjoy. If you don't like what I wrote, please don't flame. Either don't review or send your dislike in the form of a polite, well-mannered comment. No one likes a rude reviewer.