Sorry for taking so long to update people… I've been a bit of an insomniac these past few days and I haven't been able to think straight, let alone type! Welcome to the last chapter… the story will continue, but as a new fic. Thanks to Francienyc for all her help! I don't own, so please don't sue me.

This takes place about a month after the Pevensie parents arrive home.

It was seven 'o'clock in the evening and Peter sat in his father's chair, waiting, and watching the newly laid fire as it cracked and fizzled into life. The clock ticked softly on the mantel. From the kitchen, he could hear the rattling of crockery and the splash of water as his mother washed the dinner plates. His stomach rumbled.

The evening meal had been a rather meagre affair; rations were getting steadily tighter as the war dragged on. A family of six people was a challenge to satisfy at the best of times, especially when one of those people was Edmund, but they had always managed.

Peter often found he could go without food, especially when he was under pressure, or when one of the others was extra hungry. Lucy had never been a big eater - she was always in a hurry to finish her meal and get back to whatever it was she had been doing when her mother had interrupted her; and Susan was perpetually 'watching her figure', so there had always been enough to go around. Just recently, though, things had been a little different.

"Do you want the rest of my potatoes, Su?" Edmund had asked that evening as the family sat round the table.

"Aren't you hungry again, dear?" Mrs Pevensie had asked, her brow furrowing a little with concern. Ed had been off his food this past week, and it really wasn't like him.

"You're not coming down with Susan's tummy bug are you? Oh, I don't know; who'd have four children? We've just got one of you well and another starts going down with something!"

"I'm alright mum, just full," Edmund smiled at his mother, and scraped his leftovers onto Susan's plate. She nodded her thanks and continued with her meal.

"Well, it's good to see you eating again, Princess, even if your brother's on a diet," Mr Pevensie joked, patting his eldest daughter's hand. He stood up and headed to the living room for his customary twenty minutes with the evening paper and his pipe.

"Watching your waistline, son?" he laughed, ruffling Edmund's hair as he passed and Lucy giggled.

Despite the jokes, Peter had to agree with his father; it was good that Su was eating again. She hadn't been able to keep anything down for weeks and had become awfully pale. They had all been worried, even her parents. But now it seemed she was on the mend. Certainly, her appetite was back in full force, better than it had been in years. She smiled up at her father's receding back, and carried on eating.

"How are you feeling now, darling? You certainly look a lot better," Mrs Pevensie observed, as she collected the empty plates together.

"I feel fine, mum," Susan said, dabbing her lips with her napkin, "Lots better. In fact, I think I'm going to be alright to go tonight after all."

"Oh, that's good! I saw Margaret in town today, at the Post Office, and she asked after you, but I said I wasn't sure if you'd be well enough," Mrs Pevensie stood up and followed her husband out of the room.

"Where are you going, then?" Edmund asked, looking a little nonplussed.

"Kathleen's having a party, Peter and I have been invited," Susan said, swallowing her last mouthful and passing her plate to Lucy, who was waiting, hands outstretched, to take the remaining dinner things into her mother. It was her turn to help with the clearing up, and she liked to get it over quickly so she could get on with more interesting things.

"Are you definitely sure you're alright to go out?" Peter whispered, nudging his sister; but Susan only gave him a puzzled look, took a little sip of water, and laughed:

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't play dumb, Susan, you know why!" Edmund hissed, scowling at her.

Peter looked sharply at his brother and gave him a little kick under the table. His eyes flicked to Susan, who was glaring at Edmund, her face suddenly flushed and her eyes hard.

"Edmund, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she gritted, but her hand shook a little as she returned the glass to the table.

"Stop pretending that nothing's happened…" Edmund began angrily, and his voice crept up a notch; but Susan interrupted him:

"Be quiet, you idiot!" Glancing anxiously at the door, she pushed her chair noisily back and stood up, her fists clenched.

"Susan, for God's sake, stop it!" Edmund was standing too now, jaw set, facing his sister squarely across the table.

"Come on, you two…" Peter began, rising and putting a warning arm out across Edmund's chest. He reached for Susan's arm, but she shook him off as if he were a fly, and glowering at Edmund, she spoke in a tight little voice:

"I'm not prepared to listen to you if you're going to talk drivel. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a party to get ready for." And with that, she left the room.

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Now, as he sat staring into the flames, Peter reflected on the incident at the dinner table, and the whole impossible situation.

Since her parents' return, Susan had been immeasurably better in one way, and strangely worse in another. For weeks beforehand, she had barely left her room; she had lain in bed, not eating, barely speaking, with a blank expression on her face. The only time she had been at all animated was during Doctor Steadman's weekly visits, but after each one she would shut herself away in her room, seemingly exhausted. After the fourth visit, she had told the Doctor that she was quite well, and that he needn't trouble himself to come anymore.

Then, the day before Mr and Mrs Pevensie had been due back from America, Peter had woken up at seven 'o' clock and come downstairs to find Susan, dressed in an apron and scrubbing the kitchen floor, seemingly quite her old self, and apart from her coming down with that nasty tummy bug, she had remained that way ever since. It was really quite astonishing.

Then there was Edmund; it was disquieting just how erratically he had been behaving. Most of the time he was his usual kind, reserved self, then suddenly his temper would flare up out of the blue. Peter supposed it was only natural, considering the circumstances, but that didn't make it any the less upsetting, especially since most of Edmund's outbursts were aimed at Susan.

Up until now, Edmund had always gotten along pretty well with his elder sister; they were cut from a similar cloth, just as Lucy and Peter were. But since Susan had 'fallen ill' (as they had all taken to calling it,) Edmund had been acting very strangely towards her; one minute tender and affectionate, the next irritable and snappish.

Lucy said that it reminded her of how he had been all that time ago, before the wardrobe.

"But back then, it was mostly me and you he was angry at," Peter had pointed out, and Lucy had agreed; but she could never stay downhearted for long.

"Don't worry. It will get better, I know it will," she had said, and Peter had thanked the Lion for his little sister; he could always rely on her for comfort and hope. Perhaps she was right.

The clock struck half past seven, and Peter looked out into the hall to see Susan coming down the stairs. He stood up and went out to meet her.

"Hey... Are you ready to go?" he asked. She nodded:

"Almost, won't be a minute."

Peter stood his back against the wall, as Susan put her lipstick on in the oval shaped hall mirror. Her skin had regained its lustre, her hair was as dark and glossy as ever; her eyes fairly shone. You would never know… unless you knew her.

"Alright," she smiled at Peter in the mirror and nodded again, "Ready."

She turned to shout up the stairs to her mother that they were leaving, and all of a sudden, Edmund was there. For a moment, nobody spoke and the atmosphere was brittle, like icy cold air. The three siblings stood as if turned to stone. Then Edmund gave a shy little smile, and raised his hand.

"Did you want me to do your lines for you?" he asked bashfully, holding up a pen. Susan stared at him for a moment, then her face melted and she laughed, a wonderful sound, like gurgling water after a sudden thaw.

"Oh, Ed!" she giggled, "I've got real ones now remember? But keep that pen handy, my stockings never survive more than one night!"

Susan's grin faded a little; she reached out to grip Edmund's shoulder, and some silent communication passed between the two, which Peter knew to be:

"I'm sorry, I love you,"

Then, all of a sudden Lucy was bouncing down the stairs and laughing: "About time!" which made Peter look at his watch, and motion for Susan to hurry up. They were going to be late.

Edmund took Susan's coat down from the hook and helped her into it, Lucy passed Peter his keys and the two eldest Pevensies were ready for their night out. Edmund and Lucy sat down together on the stairs and watched as Peter called upstairs, in his best Scarlett O'Hara voice (which was admittedly not very good):

"Bye kids, don't wait up!"

And then they were gone, leaving nothing behind them but the scent of Susan's cheap perfume.

The End… or is it?

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