She'd woken to the sensation of perfectly warm sheets upon her skin and deliciously cool air upon her face. This was just the way that she preferred to awaken, neutrally and silently, with no outside interference disturbing the precious moment. It was something that she treasured deeply, that she was terribly, stubbornly jealous of. Her siblings teased her mercilessly about the obsession (for that was what it was, plainly stated), but she let them, secretly smirking to herself.

Peter loved to stand outside at dawn, unobserved (or so he thought) and greet the sun with his upturned face. Edmund had a secret passion for rain; the heaviness of the air, the cleansing he felt when soaked to the bone. She vaguely recalled looking down into a garden from a castle (must have been during a visit to Scotland) watching him stand ever so still with the faintest smile on his face, black hair plastered against his porcelain skin. Lucy simply adored chocolate.

These were all selfish pleasures, and not in a bad way. Everybody, Susan believed, needed little things to remind themselves that yes, they were in love with life. Yes, they felt good. Hers was waking up in the morning, stretching and nuzzling her pillow, needing to use the loo and defiantly sinking deeper into the mattress. Those minutes were sacred, intimate, and thoroughly hers.

Lucy peeked around the door, finger the ends of her loose hair and biting her upper lip. She knew better than to disturb Susan before she was ready for company.

"Come in, Lu. I'm awake."

Lucy pushed the door wide open and bounded into the room, already in her blue and white uniform. This was the day that she would return to boarding school. Susan had forgotten.

"Good morning, Su," Lucy whispered, leaning over her sister to peck her cheek, smelling of soap and oatmeal. "How did you sleep?"

Terribly, thank you.

"Very well, Lucy. I'm sorry I slept so late." Susan pushed herself up and patted the bed beside her.

"That's alright." Lucy grinned and perched on the edge of the bed, legs swinging. She was still only 5'0 at fourteen, but didn't seem concerned about the lack of growth.

"I was wondering if you would braid my hair?" She pouted ever so slightly, hazel eyes wide and fingers unconsciously caressing Susan's arm.

Susan felt a sudden surge of affection wash over her, and grabbed Lucy in a tight hug. "Of course I will. Turn around."

"Mum and Dad are driving me to the train station, before they go to work," Lucy babbled as Susan carefully plaited her hair, "Mum says that you are to fetch Edmund from Bobby's, and see to it that he eats lunch."

Robert Pines, a.k.a. Bobby, was one of Ed's pals from school. He was always staring down Susan's shirts, freckled cheeks flushing bright red whenever she caught him, but he also kept Ed preoccupied during the summer, and she was grateful for it. Ed was a trial when bored.

"Mum says that you're to shove it down his throat, if he won't eat by himself," Lucy giggled, immediately wincing afterward when Susan tugged especially hard on her hair, "Ouch. Well, she didn't 'exactly' tell me that, not in so many words, but I'm certain that's what she meant."

"Oh, really," Susan grunted, smiling to herself. Mum was positive that Ed was trying to starve himself, as he only ate during meals now, as opposed to snitching from the icebox nearly every hour. Susan suspected that he'd finally stopped growing, and therefore was not as hungry as he used to be, but hadn't spoken her thoughts out loud.

"Yes, really. Do you have to pull quite so hard, Susan? My hair won't come undone if you're gentle." Lucy passed back a silver ribbon, pouting.

"Me, gentle," Susan teased, though the word tugged painfully at her heartstrings, strangely enough. She neatly tied the bow at the end of Lucy's braid, giving the younger girl a little push. "Now, off with you. I'll come down to bid you farewell in a few minutes."

"Alright." Lucy bounced off the bed, smoothing down the top of her hair (as if Susan would ever do her hair sloppily). She leaned in for another embrace, giggling a bit as Susan sighed long-sufferingly.

She didn't know that Susan tried to cradle her, tried to kiss her cheek just so, as Peter would have had done. Lucy only knew warmth as it spread through her, warmth that had been missing for the past two weeks since her eldest brother had left for university, and held Susan tighter. "You're such a good sister, Su."

"Thank you, Lucy."

The Pine's lived just beyond Finchley's public park, in a sunny yellow house with a picket fence surrounding the perimeter and red petunias bordering the walkway. Susan's black heels clicked rhythmically on the concrete as she turned into their yard from the sidewalk. She stepped around little Harold as he played a solitary game of hopscotch, spotted Edmund in the backyard, playing a game of catch with Bobby. He looked happy enough, happier than he had been since Peter had left, diving for the ball and chuckling good-naturedly when it sailed just past his fingertips. Susan wanted to collect him immediately and be off, but thought the notion impolite. So she went up the stairs and rang the doorbell, preparing herself for at least a half-hour of listening to Mrs. Pines gripe about whatever came to mind.

"Ah, Susan. I was expecting your mother." Mrs. Pines grimaced pleasantly and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. The distinctive pungency of onions permeated the air around her, causing Susan to step back a few paces.

"Mum had to see Lucy to the train station," she explained hurriedly, eyes beginning to water, "I've come to collect Ed."

"Yes, Edmund." She leaned in closer, frowning. "I swear he snores louder than my own husband, and that's saying a lot. Heaven knows that Gregory has a nose the size of Wales."

"I…I'm sorry," Susan said, for lack of better words.

"Well, it isn't your fault, child. Just thought you should know."

Susan knew. "Thank you for the consideration, Mrs. Pines."

"Of course." Mrs. Pines sniffed and waited for Susan to respond. When there was only awkward silence, she turned towards the boys, cupped her mouth. "Bobby! Bobby!"

Susan flinched, nearly covered her ears. Harold didn't miss a beat, feet pounding away on the walk.

"Bobby! It's time for Edmund to go home!"

"Gee, Mum," Bobby whined as they approached, his brown curls sticking up in all sorts of directions. He saw Susan behind her and immediately glanced at her chest, cheeks flaring bright red.

"Hello, Bobby." She smiled graciously, wished she had a coat.

"H-hi."

"Come on," Ed grunted impatiently, grabbing Bobby by his skinny arm and practically dragging him into the house. He winked at Susan in passing, sensing her discomfort and finding amusement in it.

Susan was tempted to say hurry up, but didn't dare with Mrs. Pines watching so closely. Peter's laughter echoed in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away, busied herself with staring at the ground, the toy soldier just beside her left foot.

"Well, have a good day, if you can," Mrs. Pines grunted, shuffling back into her house after Edmund had reappeared, bag slung over his shoulder. Susan waved and clicked speedily away.

"This isn't the way home," he remarked calmly after they bypassed the park, long legs easily overtaking Susan with a few well-placed steps.

"I'm taking you to lunch." She looked out into the street on the pretense of searching for automobiles, avoiding his clever gaze much as she had for the past year. Peter grew frustrated, Lucy coerced, but Ed read Susan's emotions like an open book. It had always been that way with them.

"Lunch," he inquired as they strode quickly past her favorite coffee shop, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What for?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose for 'eating'? Wake up, Ed."

"I am awake, you're just being odd today," he protested, ushering her around a puddle of some slimy substance that she dared not identify. Once, Susan would have been very grateful for the helping hand. Now she jerked away, for reasons that she could not explain to herself, nor justify.

"Well, I don't want to argue, alright?" She stopped infront of a bistro, flung open the door with a huff of frustration. His eyes bored into the back of her head.

"I wasn't arguing, Su."

She didn't deign to reply, and he growled softly, slamming the door shut behind them loud enough to draw the attention of nearly every customer and employee in the building. Susan felt her cheeks flare bright red, and dragged Ed bodily to a table in the back. She punished him by not letting him pull out her chair.

"Hello, I'm Betty," their waitress practically purred, sizing Susan up in an indirect fashion, and batting her eyelashes at Edmund. "How can I be of service to you today?"

"I'll take coffee to start, and he'll have a…"

Ed grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. "He'll have a water. Thank you, Betty."

Betty giggled and strutted away to the next table (a group of elderly women), where her demeanor changed entirely. Ed sank back into his seat with a little smirk.

"Oh, come off it," Susan hissed, opening the menu viciously. "Or I'll tell her you're sixteen."

He shrugged, not really caring. Susan had belittled him, and now he would return the favor, underhandedly. It was simply his way. "Tell her then."

"I think I will," she mumbled, sensing a challenge and unwilling to admit that she was thoroughly incapable of besting Ed in a game of strategy. Where was Peter when she needed him?

Off at University, without you. A flash of anguish shot through her, but she tidily tucked it away, unwilling to address what had happened between her and Peter just yet. Not with her younger brother sneaking appreciative glances at Betty's rear end.

They both ordered chicken sandwiches and salads, glaring at each other over the table. It was only when the food arrived that Susan tentatively attempted real conversation, tiring of the awkward silence.

"Did you enjoy your stay over," she asked, cutting her sandwich straight down the middle, then cross-wise into four squares.

"Yep." He grabbed his own sandwich off the plate and sunk his teeth into it, dark eyes sparkling.

"Good." She took a dainty bite.

"Yep." He swallowed.

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Ed," she warned, before realizing that she was still chewing, provoking a chuckle.

"I wasn't really speaking, per say," he calmly corrected her, sprinkling his salad with pepper. "More…offering an affirmative."

The salad was bitter, or was it her mouth mirroring her mind? "Pass the salt, please."

"So why exactly did Mum send you to fetch me? I'm perfectly capable of walking six blocks on my own."

Susan stared down at her plate, suddenly not feeling very hungry at all. Ed stopped with salad halfway to his mouth, frowning, sensing the change.

"She said 'take Ed to lunch'…"

"But?" He lowered the fork, let it clink on his plate.

"I think she wants us to spend more time together. All of us, really, but since it's just you and I now…"

Edmund hummed impartially and ate his forkful, but she could see that he was at least slightly disturbed.

"She's worried, you know," Susan continued, prodded by her growing sense of loneliness, strong even during socialization. "We aren't all as close as we used to be."

"Huh."

"Ed…"

"Well," he caved, looking up skeptically. "It's not as if you 'want' to be with us anymore. You shun Peter, harass me. Lucy doesn't have a clue, but if you keep it up she'll avoid you too. You never want to talk about Nar…"

"Don't say that word!"

Silence. He leaned back in his chair, wiping his mouth grimly.

"You can't blame it all on me, Ed," she continued in a softer tone, hands trembling, "I know all of you talk about me, when I'm not around to explain myself. I feel so…isolated."

She found herself close to tears and gripped her fork hard enough to leave marks in her palm. Ed studied her with that calculating gaze, peeling away layers without asking a single question.

"What happened between you and Peter, the day before he left?"

She was so tired of the games, the concealing. "We fought. I…I hadn't told him I was staying behind. I hurt him, badly." It was agonizing to admit, like squeezing a pussy wound.

"Why?" Ed finished off his own sandwich and reached for hers. She didn't try to stop him.

"I was, I am, angry, Ed. Angry about all of this nonsense." That was no excuse, and they both knew it.

"So you hurt him because you wanted to."

"Yes," she admitted in a whisper, taking a sip of her coffee. Ed didn't say a word.

"Anything else I can do for you, dears," Betty simpered, observing the tension with a somewhat crafty smile. No doubt she thought they were a couple calling it quits.

'Yes," Susan growled, sitting up straighter, "For starters, you can take your eyes off of my underage brother and turn them in a different direction. Secondly, this salad is extremely bitter, and I wish to see a manager. Thirdly…please bring us the bill."

Betty paled and scurried away. Susan smiled triumphantly, looking at her siblings with great expectancy. They did not disappoint her.

"Bravo, Susan," Peter remarked suavely, very impressed. Ed grinned in agreement, punching at the air. Lucy giggled and raised her goblet.

"Three cheers for Susan, the best and bravest of us all!"

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

"I'm afraid the manager isn't available at the moment, miss. You can have your bloody bill though." Betty smirked, cocking her hip and looking down at Susan with an imperious air. She began to walk away, towards the kitchens.

"Excuse me." Susan pushed her chair back and stood, beginning to grow extremely angry. People were starting to notice now, heads tilting in interest. Ed was on his feet as well, taking Susan's shaking arm. He knew when she was reaching overload.

"What?" Betty was on offensive now, nostrils flaring.

"How dare you curse at me," Susan cried in outrage, feeling an unfamiliar tension settle into her muscles. "I certainly 'will' see the manager, whether he's 'available' or not. I intend to report this deplorable behavior at once."

"Su," Ed murmured, warningly, discerning something Susan could not. She shrugged him off.

"It's a 'she' to you, miss," Betty growled, stepping closer, "And I say that she doesn't want to see you."

"And why ever not?"

"Don't you get it, Su." Ed now put a wiry arm about her waist, began to drag her towards the door. "She 'is' the manager."

"That's right, hon." Betty clenched her fists. "I'm the boss around here, and I say get out."

"Well, 'I' say," Susan whispered, feeling the courage drain away, "That I want our bill."

"Get out." Betty was done with her. "I don't want your money."

"Why don't I ever see these things coming?" Susan cried aloud in frustration, clicking double pace to get away from Betty's Barnyard. What kind of name was that? She hadn't noticed the hanging sign until they were outside, almost without her purse (Ed had managed to nab it on the way out).

Now she snatched it from him, yanking on the zipper, desperate for a handkerchief. Tears were dripping off her chin. "I must look a sight."

"You're always a sight, Su," Ed attempted to joke, but it fell rather flat.

"Don't start with me, Edmund. If you hadn't encouraged her…"

Out of the corner of her blurry eye, Susan saw his chin fall in embarrassment. "You're right, Su. I apologize."

"What is it with you men," she went on as if she hadn't heard, gesturing wildly and nearly hitting Ed with her elbow, "You stare, and smirk, and don't take responsibility for your provocative actions."

"Didn't I just say…"

"First that silly lad at school who thought I was named 'Phyllis.' Phyllis! Then Robert Sandhowler, who turned out to be a 'complete' prat. Now there's Bobby, no offense, and his preoccupation with my…my…"

"Boobs," Ed supplied, very solemnly. He was so solemn, in fact, that Susan stopped and turned to face him, eyes narrowed not in suspicion, or annoyance, or even astonishment at him even daring to speak that word aloud. Instead, her eyes met his in mutual, terrible thought.

Bobby. Boobs. Bobby. Boobs. Bobby. Booby. Bobby.

"Booby Bobby," they breathed simultaneously. No more needed to be said.

Susan began to sniffle again, overcome by the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Ed slung his arm about her shoulder, nudged her towards the next block. "Come on, Su. Let's go home."

"That's the most clever thing you've said all day, Ed."

"How would you know? You haven't 'seen' me all day."

"Shut up."