Could Have, Should Have, Didn't - A Narnia Fanfiction

Chapter Five: Sailing Strong

Avoiding the sun that blazed down on them, Edmund shielded his eyes with a suitcase in his left hand, and squinted up at the deck of the large boat.

Ivy walked behind him, barely making a noise.

He was still not in complete favor of letting Ivy travel with them, they barely knew her, they didn't know what she was like, what she acted like, her past was a mystery. Though, that was normal with strangers. Yet, if Lucy wanted her to come with them; there really was no arguing. Still, he was wary.

The quiet, cool day was broken by the buzz of the populace crowding the ramp, and pushing others around. If anyone fell, they couldn't be saved— and that was if they were heard.

There was a danger of falling off the ramp and splatting into the abyss of people below, but that only sent a tremor of exhilaration through him, he loved to be up above, breathing in the sky. He peeked below at the crowds and then turned his gaze to a trembling Ivy.

She must've seen the long drop-off, she tightly fitted her baby to her chest again and whispered something to herself. Her eyes widened into big blue circles. She was terrified.

His usual instinct would be to hold her, to tell her it would be okay, like he would do with Lucy, Rita, or Edith; but that seemed weird— he barely knew her. Nothing of her past had been spilled. Except for the fact that her husband was dead and her mother was all she had. He knew that. She'd screamed it while in her hysterics about her missing visa, from far away, but he'd heard it.

He shuddered at the memory, the bullet that could've pierced his skin; he could've been arrested, or killed. Never to see his family again.

For some reason, he'd been spared, the guard could've deemed him a threat when he reached into his pocket to grab the visa; for all the guard knew, Ed might've been getting out a weapon. Yet, he hadn't been seen as a danger, he'd helped someone and he was safe. Compassion hadn't killed him— it almost did, yet somehow it didn't.

Ivy finally seemed to relax her tense body when the fingers of her left hand found the railing of the boat, her right hand holding gently, tightly to the bundle against her chest. She sucked in a breath and established her footing on the boards of the boat. The baby in her arms squealed with delight as the wind caressed its chubby cheeks. He didn't appreciate children, but he would admit, they were adorable. From afar, not up close, not near him. They were loud, disruptive, and disgusting.

Below him, as he swung with a thud onto the boat, everything looked so small, so inconvenient, he felt like a giant; like a pinch of his fingers and the land beneath him would be crushed. Like, if he blew air out from his mouth, every structure would rock and collapse over like the world was made of only pieces of paper. How did the place he lived in for half of his life look so small? So insignificant.

His stare wandered the washed-out buildings, the clock tower, and the people.

This was it, he was leaving London.

England. The country he grew up in. The place where his memories lay. Both good and bad. A part of him felt tied here, like he didn't want to go. But a bigger part of him felt ready to break free.

They were off— to create new memories. New friends.

Studying London too, a mixture of sorrow and something he couldn't read clung to Ivy's face. She inspected the buildings, she surveyed the streets. She seemed to be remembering, but she didn't look happy. If only he knew more about her, he wasn't ready to trust her, not yet.

Next to him, the railing rattled as Edith, Robert, Timothy, Lucy, and Rita showed themselves, their faces were pale, and they already reeked of the ocean.