Further Up & Further In

Lessons Never Learned

"You can't save everyone, Son of Adam."

Mr. Beaver's words rang in Peter's ears as he surveyed the casualties of his first battle. His people - they were already his people - were scattered across the field; some dead, some dying, some stone. They were victims of decisions he had made, orders he had given, a charge he had led.

Edmund, too. His own brother, and he hadn't been able to stop it from happening. "He was terribly wounded," Peter told the Great Lion who found him both steady and shaken. "We must go and see him."

A drop of Lucy's cordial was all it took, and after seeing to Edmund, Aslan and Lucy made quick work of restoring the other wounded. Little by little, grey stone became lively colour, and figures which had been lying half dead sprang up like primroses from the earth. But when it was over and they returned to Edmund, who was now standing solid and smiling like his old self, Peter couldn't help but notice that bodies still lay still among the dancing and the cheering of the saved.

They slept too close to the battlefield. Peter's eyes darted there all evening. It was hours later that Lucy found him, long past when they both should have been in bed. They sat next to each other, gazing out at the cold, blue horizon.

"There's still so many of them," Lucy whispered. "I tried... I stopped a few times, but Aslan told me to keep going."

Peter looked down at her, a feeling coming over him like a dagger in his heart. "You can't save everyone, Lu," he smiled stiffly, putting his arm around her and rubbing her shoulders. His people, his decisions, his orders, his charge. "Still, think of all you did save! You did good today."

* * *

Peter watched as the wounded were carried into the armoury of Cair Paravel. His own arm had been dislocated, and now rested in a sling, and he could still taste blood on his lip, but his injuries were minor compared to others. When Lucy bounded up to him, pulling her cordial out of the belt around her waist, he shook his head.

"I'm all right, Lu. See to the others."

"But Mrs. Beaver said you were bleeding. I thought-"

"Don't worry about it, Lucy. It's only a scratch."

Lucy stared at him for only a moment, before turning to cure the injured that surrounded her. Aslan's past words echoed in both their heads, and they knew they must never waste time. Lucy kept moving, weaving in between the bodies that lay on the floor and the tables and those that walked around her, and it was almost like a dance, but too solemn. Yet in the end, all who had made it to that room were cured, and they all smiled at their queen, and bowed, and shook her hand.

Peter smiled, too, every time one of them sat up, but for each body he saw rise, he pictured another slain on the battlefield. They were all his people, the living and the dead, and it was him they had followed into that fight. They were his people, yet his blood was only a drop compared to their oceans.

After a while Lucy came back to stand beside him, and again offered to heal his cuts. Peter just shook his head, and they looked out at their people together.

"Peter," Lucy began after a couple heartbeats. "How many didn't make it?"

"Don't you worry about that," he answered.

There was another pause before Lucy asked, "I know we can't save everyone, but do you think we'll ever see a day when we do? Just once?"

Peter sighed. "I hope so."

* * *

Lucy fought her first battle at 14, and Peter fought against it as long as he could. But Lucy was stubborn, and reminded him again that she was older than he had been. And though he could try, Peter could never stop his sister from doing that for their people which he knew he would do himself. They were like-minded.