This was originally supposed to be a multi-chapter fic about how each sibling comes to terms with coming back to England (that idea is also where my other fic, Immense Faith, stemmed from). And, well, the story deviated. Plus, multi-chapters are my worst enemy.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Which reminds me. I forgot to put a disclaimer on my Ouran fic. But then, this is fanfiction, it's a given I don't own anything, right? ... Right?

Illogical

Their first night back on this side of the wardrobe was a very silent one, and Edmund had expected this.

Throughout the rest of the day, none of the children had the energy to talk or move or eat. At first, there were some very confused faces, and lots and lots of unfinished questions. "Did we just-?", "Am I the only one-?", "No, I know it was true. But why are we-?", "I say, shouldn't there be a stag-?", and of course, the most prominent one was, "Are we really back in England?"

They saw Professor Kirch come into the room as they fell from the wardrobe. He was preparing his pipe for a smoke, and he looked more amused than angry. Edmund also distinctly heard Mrs. Macready's voice from somewhere around the house, and he remembered the reason why they were in the wardrobe in the first place. He found it amusing to think that a simple game of 'hide and seek' with Mrs. Macready would lead to more than fifteen years in a magical world. He spent more years living in Narnia than in England, and Lucy no less.

It was as if England was the make-believe world, and Narnia was home.

"Ah! There you are. Now what were you children doing inside the wardrobe?" the Professor asked with smile. The children looked up, then gave each other meaningful glances. What were they doing? Or was it, did they really do something in the wardrobe?

"You wouldn't have believed us if we told you, sir." Peter answered for them.

The Professor threw a ball at them. Peter caught it, though not much gracefully. Edmund noted that there was a certain twinkle in the Professor's eyes. "Try me." He said, and Edmund got the impression that the Professor knew more, a lot more, than he let on.

It wasn't until the next day, did the children actually tell the Professor about it. It was understandable though, because they just came back, and they needed time to clear their heads. Even Edmund had trouble with his return to England. Wet, gray, dreary England. He returned the same way he came, with the same clothes, the same height, the same face, and the same voice that told him puberty has yet to strike. And it was dreadful thinking that he had to go through puberty all over again.

But what was really troubling was that he came back as a boy. Even his mind had become that of a child's. He was the old Edmund again.

He feared he might revert back to his old ways.

During their stay in Professor Kirch's house since their return from Narnia (it was more of a mansion, actually), Edmund thought he would never see anything as sad as what he was seeing. Lucy would lock herself up in her room (which she shared with Susan), playing with dolls and old toys that even she was too old for. Edmund tried to get her to play with him on one occasion. He asked her if she wanted to explore the mansion again. "Or maybe we could go outside and just watch the sunset, like we usually do."

Lucy cried that day. Peter came in and scolded Edmund, the first time in a long while. Of course, Edmund remembered how Peter would always be angry with him, but they were always for the right reasons, or more often than not, because Edmund was too stubborn and Peter was twice as so. But this was a different anger, a different Peter. Edmund resented having to face this new Peter, the one who would scold him for trying to cheer their sister up.

Or perhaps, this was not a new Peter.

This was the old Peter, before he became High King.

This was the Peter who would lash out for reasons that did not include having Edmund hurt in the battlefield and Lucy being caught in a war, and Susan being courted by some obnoxious suitor. This was the Peter who was easily irritated, and was very, very proud. This was the Peter who picked fights on Edmund.

Because Edmund would no longer pick fights with him like he used to do.

Susan would shake her head and be off somewhere around the house. Since their return, Edmund barely saw his sister in-between meals. He rather missed her motherly gestures and very gentle words. Though he was relieved to see these gestures and hear these words from time to time, and this only happens because he had another row with Peter about something very trivial and unimportant. At least, despite the practicality and her 'trying to be smart', as Peter put it, there was still some Queen Susan the Gentle inside her. And it was glowing very brightly in Edmund's opinion. At least, compared to everyone else.

Edmund felt that, though she was the person he least saw during the day, she was the person whom he saw the most change since their return from Narnia. And he was proud of her; very, very proud indeed. And it helped him gather hope for Lucy and Peter, who had fallen out of their element and were being very rash and moody. They were reverting back to who they once were, or perhaps, to who they might have been without Narnia.

As for Edmund himself, he was unsure whether he could say the same.

He had been very cautious of how he acted, and at one point, he locked himself in his room like Lucy, because he was extremely irritable and disappointed with the way his siblings acted that he was afraid he might go back to who he once was. He risked not eating dinner that night, but he was sure he had done that many times before in Narnia, when they ran out of rations during their many voyages to the Lone Islands and even to the other end beyond Archenland. And because of that, he knew he had to face Peter's anger again because he would ask why Edmund was being so stubborn, and why didn't he eat dinner, and because of that Susan got in trouble for sneaking food for him in crumpled tissue papers. But Edmund would bear the brunt of it, unless Peter would go too far and Edmund would really let him have it.

It was an understatement that Edmund was frustrated with his siblings, and also with himself.

"Stop being so stubborn, Ed!" Peter yelled. "The world doesn't revolve around you!"

"No, I'm sure it doesn't." Edmund said through gritted teeth. "And neither does it revolve around you, Peter."

And it was also an understatement that Edmund was frustrated and dead tired of his daily fights with Peter.

"What kind of tone is that?" Peter stepped forward, closing more distance between them. His attempt at being intimidating had utterly failed though. Edmund was used to these situations, and he didn't know whether that was fortunate for him or not. "Are you rebelling against me?"

"What?" At this, Edmund felt a small surge of anger build up inside him. At first, he was just annoyed and bloody irritated. He forced himself to calm down and cool his head, or his temper might bring out the worst of him. But some things can only be taken too far. Especially when you have had a lot to think about. "Peter, stop it, you're not High King anymore." His voice was firm with every word. "You're not dad."

"Shut up!" Peter yelled. He moved in closer, in rash and hasty movements. "A king of Narnia will always be a king of Narnia. And I am your High King, Edmund Randall Pevensie."

Edmund held Peter's gaze, plunging into their little staring contest. Peter's eyes glared down on him with fierce irritation and weariness and anger. Edmund, as he looked into Peter's eyes, could see his own reflection. He remembered such a similar scene before, where he and Peter fought, yelling at each other like they were doing now. How he attacked Peter's weakness over replacing their father's role, and how Peter demanded respect and obedience. How they were both immature at that time, the time before they opened the wardrobe.

It was a repulsive memory, one which Edmund feared he might have to live again. And with that came the return of his old self, the one he had tried so hard not to be.

In truth, he had forgotten what they were fighting about. He seemed to be doing that a lot these days, as it seemed Peter would never get tired of fighting with him. Just as he never got tired of bickering with Peter back then, before the air-raids and the war that sent them here and, ultimately, to Narnia. And upon realizing this, his mind reeled and he looked at Peter firmly, trying to grip his (Edmund's) emotions into a hold until his head was clear.

"No, Peter." He said finally. His anger swelled up inside him, and he didn't know if this anger – this frustration - was directed towards himself or towards Peter. "You're only the High King if you can act like it."

And he left him with those words.

"Edmund?" Susan quietly asked. "You're very pale today. Did you get into another fight with Peter?"

"I'm fine." He replied. Truthfully, he was beyond weary. He didn't really know if he could still keep this up.

He left the library and went out to breathe in some fresh air. Susan watched him as he left, but said nothing. Somehow, it made him feel a little more lonely, a little more weak, when Susan just watched him leave. Just as when she just watched him and Peter fight. She cuts in sometimes, yes, but it wasn't the same.

"Oh Aslan, why did you send us back?" Edmund asked, though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. And indeed, he did not.

He climbed up a tree and sat on a sturdy branch, making sure that Mrs. Macready wasn't around. And when he steered his eyes to look at the view, he was disappointed not to see a serene landscape of Naiads and Dryads and Fauns and forests and mountains and crystal clear sea. All he saw were dull fields and gray landscapes, and the city was a little far-off, but not far enough for him not to notice. He longed for a lighter, more exciting, more magical atmosphere.

Sometimes he wonders if Narnia was all just an illusion, or a very long dream.

To begin with, it was impossible and highly unlikely for Narnia to exist in the first place. Because snow didn't just appear from behind wardrobes, and coats certainly do not disappear on their own. Edmund went out of his way to check them, and he risked his life to ask Mrs. Macready (even though he doubted he'll get an answer, and of course, he didn't). And even if Narnia did exist, how could they have come back as children, with no memory of anything that happened other than they've been there?

Edmund remembers the landscapes, the people, the creatures he met. He remembers that he learned how to use a sword there, and how to ride a horse, and how to weasel his way into politics. He remembers that there was winter, and then there was none, and there was spring again for the first time. Most of all, he remembers a Great Lion by the name of Aslan, and a sadistic Witch clothed in snow and magic. He remembers them all.

But not exactly.

He couldn't call up any specific memory, but only pictures and feelings and imagery. He knows that they have won wars and became kings, but he doesn't remember how exactly. He couldn't see the events leading up to it, or the events the followed. He couldn't hear voices, he couldn't see details, couldn't remember anything specific. He just sees images, still and silent, almost as if all he did in that wardrobe was memorize conjured pictures from his wild imagination.

He even tried to spar with Peter one day, but their muscles could not keep up, and his mind blanked out on the combinations, and his stamina decreased considerably from what he thought he remembered.

But he knows he became king, and defeated warriors, and saw Talking Animals. He knows, but he soesn't remember. They're just facts.

He recognizes, though, what he felt during those fifteen years (or five minutes), all his anger and triumph and despair and smiles. And they were too real not have been imagined. And he recalls all this wisdom he attained, but not quite, because somehow he's more childish here in England, yet his intuition is sharper than before.

He remembers, yet he doesn't really.

Logically speaking, if Narnia was real, logic wouldn't really stand a chance. Because magic beats logic, and not just any kind of magic. Only deep magic; magic that can only exist in Narnia. At least that's what Edmund thinks. It's the kind of magic that cannot be used by human hands, only to be believed in. And Edmund believed in it – he did!

So… why is he doubting now?

He hears a soft noise from below. His eyes snap back to reality, and he looks down.

"Edmund." Lucy whispered. Her voice is smaller, more quiet. "It's almost supper. Susan is looking for you. She says one of you should apologize to each other before we eat, at least."

Edmund nods, and he jumps down from the tree, wincing a little when his fall was far from perfect. He did not sprain his ankle though. Or, he hopes.

"Lu, do you want to romp around before supper?" He asks out of the blue, and he's disappointed when Lucy shakes her head and heads off without Edmund.

It's a little sad, because Edmund always believed Lucy had so much faith. That she would be the last to doubt that Narnia even existed.

"I think it's about time we talked about it." Edmund said one afternoon, when he saw that everyone was present in the library, but not in any mood to do anything.

"Again? Haven't we had enough? It's obvious this wouldn't go anywhere."

"Narnia doesn't exist, Ed. It never did."

"Are you sure? It could have happened. Don't you believe in it?"

"Lu, you are in no position to say that when you yourself are in doubt."

"But, I want to believe…"

"We all do, Lucy. But I suppose we just have to realize the truth."

Edmund watched his siblings quarrel, and he sort of feels guilty to have started this again. He feels a little guiltier that he doesn't participate in what he started in the first place, but he remains silent.

"Even if it did exist, why would Aslan kick us out anyway? Why couldn't we have stayed?"

"I don't think I can believe in something when there's no proof it exists."

Edmund doesn't think he can, either.

But deep inside, he wishes that he can.

It's all so surreal. Lucy losing her faith, Peter losing his hold on himself, Susan's silence over the matter… It's all unreal that it's beginning to scare Edmund. Thinking that maybe he reverted to his old ways, or maybe he had become who he would be if Narnia didn't exist. Thinking that maybe, he became a bloody prick again, and it's horrifying enough that he has dreams of being treacherous. He doesn't need it to be a reality.

There are nights when he has nightmares. The nightmares are vivid and detailed and real, and Edmund wakes up in cold sweat and tangled sheets and an unsure Peter looking at him in the dark from his bed. He doesn't do anything, nor say anything, but he watches until Edmund gets himself together and sleeps again.

When Edmund wakes up from these nightmares, he knows they are from a distant memory; something real that happened to him from that place (because now Peter declared that the name of that place should never be uttered lest they all get upset and start a fight again). He doesn't really remember what he dreamed about when he wakes up. There are no images this time, but he recalls the pain and terror he felt, and he knows that he recalls these emotions the same way he recalls those images from that place. That these memories and these dreams are from that place.

It's all very scary, in all actuality.

He finds himself face to face with the Professor one night, when he decided to sneak out to get a glass of water. His face was still pale and his hair was matted in sweat. Hands and feet cold to the touch.

But the Professor doesn't mind. He smiles and hears what Edmund has to say.

That nigh, Edmund realizes that the Professor is an odd person.

But in a good way.

He understands him, somewhat, and it was all Edmund needed at that time. And he's a very logical man too, and he has very warm eyes. Edmund admired that about him. So instead of bedtime stories and wise advices, the Professor got straight into the heart of the matter. And it becomes easier for Edmund to see that the Professor really did know something about their fantasies and wild dreams.

"A world in the back of my wardrobe, you say?" He said. "That would explain why I'm missing four coats."

"But sir, do you really believe in all that? I mean, if you think about it, it's pretty illogical that it would exist." Edmund replied.

"And it would be pretty illogical if it didn't." He smiled.

And Edmund understood, just a little, that he had to believe in something. That either Narnia existed. Or it didn't.

He can't believe in both.

If Narnia didn't exist, why would they all be affected anyway?

"Lucy, why don't you believe in Nar - that place anymore?"

"I want to believe, but I don't know if I can."

Edmund realizes that even the strongest in faith can have struggles, and fall. In that sense, maybe no one is that strong after all. Or maybe, one should not overestimate the strength other people have.

"Susan, do you think that place was real?"

"It might as well have been our imagination."

And Edmund also realizes that it's easier for people not to believe, when there is proof of its nonexistence. The proof being the hard wood at the back of the wardrobe, or their current age as children now. Or their lack of memories. Or that time hasn't moved on in this world at all. Or that Narnia was never there. It's easier to believe in the tangible things we see, in those that we can hold and hear and taste.

It is also easier not to believe, when everyone else doesn't. Especially those that once had strong faith.

"Peter, do you think Narnia was just a dream?"

"For heaven's sake Edmund! Stop talking about this nonsense!"

And lastly, Edmund realizes that if one cannot accept the possibility that what they believed in could have been a lie, one could just deny the problem and walk away.

He already said it before, but he can't help say it again.

It's really, really sad.

"Do you still believe in it, Ed?" Lucy asked. And Edmund thought hard about it, he really did. It was too important not to.

"I'm trying to, and I think I still do."

In fact, when Edmund thought about it, he found that it was easier to believe than not to believe.

Some things didn't make sense even if he did, but everything else would have been senseless if he didn't.

Because, logically speaking, Narnia exists. Or, it could've.

He couldn't have conjured up all those images and emotions. They were all too overwhelming, too real, to be fake. And he entertained the thought that he might be deluding himself, but he was sure he wasn't. He believed he wasn't, anyway. If Narnia didn't exist, none of them would have been affected and conflicted by this much. And the coats should still be there. The Professor seemed to acknowledge its existence. And frankly, Edmund trusted him.

Narnia did not disappear. It couldn't have. The magic just shut the portal, that's all. Edmund hoped that he could still go back – that all of them could go back. Nobody said they couldn't.

In all actuality, Edmund couldn't really back up his arguments, which weren't as logical as he hoped. But it hurts more not to believe than to believe. Because he wanted it to be true, and deep inside, he just knew it was true.

Aslan didn't abandon them.

"He couldn't." The Professor said. "He's always there."

And Edmund, despite the holes in his argument and the flaws in his logic, believed. There's no logical reason. He just did.

"Like some people believe that there's God, and others don't. There's no concrete proof on either side, but they still believe in what they believe in."

It was his leap of faith.

"Why do you believe," Lucy asked. "When there's nothing to hold on to your faith?"

"I just do." Edmund said. "There's really no other explanation to it."

Faith is believing in something, despite the doubts that may seep into one's soul. Or so Edmund thinks.

The Professor gave him a book that night, and he faintly remembers a Great Lion he knew as he read it. He prayed that night as well, the second since he arrived back in England. And it felt refreshing, like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders.

He prayed for his siblings, that somehow they would find peace with what happened.

For the Professor, that He may bless him.

And ultimately, that He may give him strength to believe. For all of them to believe.

When he finished, he saw Peter staring at him with an uncertain expression, as if he was unsure of what to do. Edmund stares back, watching Peter's eyes shift with conflict and inner struggle. Peter is the first to pull away.

"We should go to sleep."

"Agreed."

"Good night, Ed."

"Good night, Peter."

They didn't fight that night. It's a small step, but it's a good change.

Edmund believes that he and his siblings will recover. He'll help them through.

Even if he needs strength to have faith.

But it's also that faith that gives him strength.

It's all contradictory, but then, Edmund never really completely understood Narnia's magic. Or Aslan. He just believed.

And maybe, if he believed enough, everything will turn out right.

So, I must explain...?

As you can see, Edmund hasn't really resolved the problems yet. He found faith, but he will still struggle with it. But it's a start for him. I thought about having Edmund see Aslan through the Bible, but realized that Aslan didn't tell him that He was also in our world until Voyage. So I can only assume that Edmund hasn't fully realized who Aslan is in our world. But still, I find it hard for the Professor not to give him the Bible, so I included it in the end. So maybe he knows, but he hasn't fully recognized it yet.

I feel like they are still OOC [-.-]. Aside from GA, Narnia has been the hardest fandom to work with. It's hard for me to make them IC. I imagined them to be a bit more immature and less wise, since they're back to being children and all. Like in Prince Caspian, Lucy said she forgot how to swim in England when she learned in Narnia (or something like that), but she remembers that she learned how to do it. In this fic, it's the same with their memories and wisdom. They know they became kings and queens, but don't exactly remember the memory of it, except for a few images (like the landscape and Naiads). As for wisdom, I thought that their mind would regress as well since their body did. But like with the memories, a piece of what Narnia imparted with them is still there. So their intuition is a bit more... sharper. And in Edmund's case, he's logical but has a little more conviction to believe.

Sorry if that was a mess. Oh well. Thanks for reading, and please tell me how to improve. Reviews pull my world to happy unicorns and rainbows and cotton candy!