Room 203, 7:30 Wednesday Morning

[kitchen_maid]

It was a long night, last night. Amy got in late, and sleep came neither easily nor quickly.

And so, now, even though she's usually up and dressed and busy starting her day by this time, Amy is still curled up in bed, drifting not quite in and not quite out of sleep. Anne has gone off to meet Gilbert for breakfast, and aside from the occasional burst of chatter from the squirrels, the room is still and quiet and peaceful, full of warm sunlight and the soft smell of lavender.

She'll have to get up at some point, and face the day and all it brings.

But not just yet.

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[the_seafarer]

Caspian has neither slept nor been to his room this night, though he had spent long hours pacing in the courtyard of the House of Arch after leaving the stables.

The stables that are his responsibility, now.

And so the knock that comes on the door to room 203 is soft and a bit hesitant.

[kitchen_maid]

Soft and hestitant, perhaps, but not totally unexpected.

Amy throws one of Anne's shawls over her nightgown and crosses the room to open the door cautiously, yawning a little. She checks to see who it is, and then opens the door all the way.

"Come in, Caspian."

[the_seafarer]

Caspian comes in, and stands just inside the room, uncertain. Jittery energy makes him clench his hands to hide their tremble, and his mouth opens, and closes again after a moment, without saying anything.

He waits until Amy has closed the door, and turns to her, holds out a hand that he forces open, and puts his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.

It is as if he's trying to convince himself that she is still there.

[kitchen_maid]

She is. She's here, and she's not going anywhere.

She doesn't say anything, either. Just puts her arms around him, and waits.

[the_seafarer]

He holds her tight for a long moment.

"Susan is leaving."

He doesn't know Amy has already spoken to her.

[kitchen_maid]

"I know," she says softly. "I talked to her last night. After she talked to you."

[the_seafarer]

His laugh is a little bitter.

"She's leaving me in charge of the stables."

Softer.

"She's giving me Kiseki."

[kitchen_maid]

"Oh, Caspian," she says.

She's not surprised, really, but the bitterness alarms her.

"Is there anything I can do?"

[the_seafarer]

"Everyone leaves, eventually," he says, wearily, and lets her go, moving to sit at Anne's desk.

"No one can do anything, not really. And you never get used to it."

[kitchen_maid]

"No," she says, "I don't suppose you do."

Amy pulls the shawl a little more tightly around her, feeling a chill that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

She turns for a moment, busying herself with making tea.

[the_seafarer]

This is better, sitting here, even silent and unhappy. Better than being alone in the warm stables, in the cold courtyard.

It's not good, not yet, but it's better.

"I'm sorry to have made you get up," he says, with a small smile, and an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

[kitchen_maid]

"It's all right," she says, with a small smile of her own. "I wasn't asleep."

She pours the tea through the strainer, adds cream, and brings it over to him, handing it to him without asking if he wants it.

[the_seafarer]

"Thank you," he says, and takes her hand for a moment before releasing her and sipping his tea.


"I'm glad you talked to her--you'll miss her too, won't you?"

[kitchen_maid]

"Yes," says Amy. "Very much. She's a remarkable person."

She fixes her own cup of tea, comes back to the desk, sits down on the floor beside his chair and rests her head against his knee.

[the_seafarer]

The hand that is not holding his tea comes to rest on her hair, gently.

"She is that," he says, with a smile that is sad, and fond. "Truly remarkable, and a good friend. But it'd be wrong for her to stay, I think."

[kitchen_maid]

"Yes, I think you're right." Amy doesn't sound happy about it, but she agrees with him.

And there's more she wants to say, but she can't think of how, or even if the words exist.

[the_seafarer]

Caspian is not happy about it, either. All his life, people he has loved have left him, and now in his death it is still the same.

So he's quiet, and drinks his tea, and waits to hear her, if she can find the words.

[kitchen_maid]

It's a new experience for Amy, really.

"I . . . she's . . . I think she's worried about you."

There's really no "think" about it.

[the_seafarer]

"Susan is a caring girl," he says, vaguely.

"She'll be worried for all those she leaves behind, I think."

[kitchen_maid]

Amy nods. She's not explaining this right.

"I'm worried about you, too."

[the_seafarer]

"I know you are," he says, gently.

Usually, he'd say something about how she needn't bother, and he is perfectly all right although he appreciates the thought.

But he isn't all right, and he is frightened by the knife's edge he can feel himself to be on, and so he doesn't say anything.

[kitchen_maid]

And if he had said any of that, Amy might actually have called him on the lie.

"Sister's prerogative," she says, and she tries to make it light, but fails rather miserably.

She leans against his knee a little more firmly and doesn't look up at him.

[the_seafarer]

His hand remains warm on her hair.

"I must have done something right, to deserve such a sister as you," he says, fondly.

[kitchen_maid]

At that she does lean back to look up at him.

"Well," she says, with a small smile, "you're a very good brother. That's probably a lot of it."

She lets a moment pass and then adds, "I love you."

[the_seafarer]

He smiles down at her in response.

"I love you, too, Amy. You are my dear sister.

(I found my family)

"And you are a comfort and a joy to me."

[kitchen_maid]

"And you to me. Best beloved brother."

Her smile, is still small, but it quirks a little.

"Have you eaten?"

He had to know it was coming.

[the_seafarer]

His own mouth quirks, and a spark of amusement shines in his eyes for a moment.

"Sneaky girl. No, I haven't."

He looks at his tea.

"...I haven't had much of an appetite, frankly."

[kitchen_maid]

"No, I don't guess you have." She hasn't either.

But she gets up, and returns a moment later with apples and cookies. It's not really much of a breakfast, and she doubts either of them will do more than pick at it, but it's better than nothing.

She settles back on the floor and offers him an apple and a cookie.

[the_seafarer]

He takes the apple, but instead of biting into it, does something rather odd.

Taking a knife from his pocket, he peels it carefully, and cuts the white flesh into pieces, and eats it slowly, piece by piece.

The last piece he offers to Amy, with an oddly solemn expression.

[kitchen_maid]

"Thank you."

Amy takes it, looking just slighty bemused, and eats it carefully.

[the_seafarer]

"You're welcome," he says, looking strangely more relaxed.

This isn't that apple, and neither he nor Amy are terribly ill, but the old stories are a comfort anyway.

The cookie gets eaten in normal fashion.

[kitchen_maid]

Amy still doesn't understand, but if giving her a piece of an apple makes him happy, all right. She understands that it means something to him, and, really, that's enough.

[the_seafarer]

Someday he'll tell her the story behind it, about the birth of Narnia and the tree that was her shield for hundreds of years, and of the apple that cured a deathly illness...but not today.

He finishes the cookie, and his tea, and puts the cup gently down on Anne's desk.

"Thank you, Amy."

He may or may not be speaking of the food.

[kitchen_maid]

And she'll be here to listen to the story when he decides to tell it.

"You're welcome, Caspian."

She may or may not be talking about the food, either.

But probably not.

[the_seafarer]

He smiles at her, and the silence between them is warm and companionable, and he is loathe to leave.