Lucy Pevensie, The Valiant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
called_lioness) wrote2007-02-15 11:38 pm
called_lioness) wrote2007-02-15 11:38 pm
and sometimes when you fall
She wakes up.
She shouldn't, really, think of it as waking up, but that's most of what it feels like.
This is real. This is her aware and the air clear and crisp and mountains, always mountains, around her.
***
Susan's there sometimes. Often. Not always.
Sometimes you have to walk alone.
Sometimes Lucy likes that. And sometimes she likes someone holding her hand.
More and more often she's one step ahead.
She hasn't really noticed.
***
"I love thee," she tells Susan, on a whim.
Susan smiles.
"And I thee."
They keep walking.
They're quieter the closer they get.
There's less that needs to be said.
***
She wakes up.
This time, Susan's not there.
She could wait.
Instead she runs.
It's not leaving anyone behind; it never is. She knows Susan could catch up, and she knows, here she knows, that she'll see her again in a time that's no time at all. All times are soon.
***
A moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock
A very wise man said that once.
It's true.
It's a tick of the clock later when Lucy collapses--not for exhaustion, not here, never here--at the top of the mountain.
There's a gate.
She sits outside it, laughing, and looks down the cliff she thinks she's run straight up.
She doesn't remember having a compass in her hands, but now she does, and the needle's spinning round and round in a circle, like it would on the north pole.
This is right.
And there's foot(paw)steps behind her, and she smiles at the silent sound.
She shouldn't, really, think of it as waking up, but that's most of what it feels like.
This is real. This is her aware and the air clear and crisp and mountains, always mountains, around her.
Susan's there sometimes. Often. Not always.
Sometimes you have to walk alone.
Sometimes Lucy likes that. And sometimes she likes someone holding her hand.
More and more often she's one step ahead.
She hasn't really noticed.
"I love thee," she tells Susan, on a whim.
Susan smiles.
"And I thee."
They keep walking.
They're quieter the closer they get.
There's less that needs to be said.
She wakes up.
This time, Susan's not there.
She could wait.
Instead she runs.
It's not leaving anyone behind; it never is. She knows Susan could catch up, and she knows, here she knows, that she'll see her again in a time that's no time at all. All times are soon.
A moment can be eternity, eternity can be the tick of a clock
A very wise man said that once.
It's true.
It's a tick of the clock later when Lucy collapses--not for exhaustion, not here, never here--at the top of the mountain.
There's a gate.
She sits outside it, laughing, and looks down the cliff she thinks she's run straight up.
She doesn't remember having a compass in her hands, but now she does, and the needle's spinning round and round in a circle, like it would on the north pole.
This is right.
And there's foot(paw)steps behind her, and she smiles at the silent sound.
no subject
And she doesn't have to, is the thing.
It's a choice; it's always a choice.
But she promised, and she'd keep it, and that's a choice, too, and one she'd make gladly, even if it hurts.
And this time when she starts to wake up (to fall asleep, to drift off against golden fur and the smell of summer) there's the sound of pages turning in a book and two hands, both pale as as moonlight, one male and one female, in front of her.
It's always a choice, and Lucy loved both her parents, but her father's voice was the one she loved best in the world.
And everything works out, all the little bits, exactly as you make it, as you want it to, in the end.
So she takes a hand.
And then
And then she wakes up, Caspian's body against hers.
And it's not that it's easy, because it's not, because she knows exactly what she's putting off, and what she's paying to do it, to distract herself and keep her mind busy and not think on where she wants to be the most.
But it's a choice.
And it's hers.
And there's a warm chest under her arms, and Lucy's content to rest her head on it after a moment and listen to his heart beat.
She can wait a while longer.