called_lioness | (no subject)

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She doesn't, actually, want to tell him this.

But she is, because--well.

Wives do things like that, she's certain, tell their husbands about magic compasses.

...Maybe. There isn't a book. She rather wishes there were.

But there isn't, and it's been a week, and it's harder to make herself dream apart from the woman she knows is waiting for her, and so she pulls the silver object out of its drawer and sighs as she goes to find her husband.

Lucy supposes the honeymoon had to end sooner or later.

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"There's no one who can but myself, so why not a compass to help?" she asks with a crooked sort of smile, and she has to sigh as she looks at him and thinks on the first question.

"I don't think I can answer that."

"No one but yourself and Susan in a dream," he says, and for just the smallest fraction of a second, there is terrible, sharp pain in his voice, but then he looks at her as steadily as ever and that smile (just a quirk, really, with no amusement or joy behind it) still there, curving his mouth.

"Oh, love," Lucy murmurs and he's too far away now. A great deal too far away, and her fingers move to cradle his face, and for the moment, she doesn't care at all where a compass might point.

"I don't know how to make it different," she says, finally, and hates it.

He wants to believe her, and so he leans into her touch, and smiles a little more convincingly.

He wants to believe her, but he doesn't.

"What do you think will happen now?" he asks, instead, because it is easier than saying what he would otherwise.

And it's a little more convincing, aye, but it's not very much, and it makes her hands drop after a moment as she shifts a little away and pulls a leg up to her chest, shrugging a little.

"I walk, I suppose, and sooner or later I choose one way or another."

"In the dream?"

He watches her steadily, and doesn't want to continue, but after a moment, he does anyway.

"Or here?"

"I don't know."

She stops, then, because--because she's not been told, but she finds saying she doesn't know isn't quite true.

"I think both," Lu admits after a moment.

"Ah," he says, and it's really more of an exhalation than a comment, and he sits back, puts his hands helplessly on his knees.

"And when you find the way?" Still quiet, still calm.

"I don't know," and this time it's honest and simple. "I don't know what it is yet."

But Lucy adds, softly, "But I would want you to be with me," as she looks at his lap, and it's a little bit more hopeful than she'd thought it would be.

He reaches out to take her hand, and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"If you want me there, then that is where I will be," he promises, in what he hopes is rather a more confident tone than what he feels.

There's something of surprise in her eyes as he says that and her hand holds his tightly.

"I married you, didn't I?"

He looks up, and smiles at the surprise in her face.

"Aye, so you did. I'm sorry, Lu, of course I'll be there."

"Caspian..." And it's sighed as she reaches out to touch his face again, hesitantly.

"That's what I want most. Whichever way I go, to have you there." If she can have it.

"Then I will," he promises, and for the first time, looks down at the compass, more curiously.

"I miss her," he says, softly, putting an arm around Lucy and drawing her closer.

"I know." It's soft, as she leans over to softly kiss his cheek and then joins him in looking at the compass.

"She's here enough, though."

"It isn't," he says, ruefully, "terribly kind of me, but--I rather envy you, Lu. I haven't dreamed of Susan in a very long time. I wish--"

But he stops, smiles wryly.

"It hardly matters. I'm glad you see her, at any rate."

"Don't envy me this." It's almost sharp, for a moment, before it softens and she repeats, "Not this, Caspian. Not even for Susan."

"Why not?" he asks, almost sadly though he still smiles. "It is the same choice that has always pulled at me. My dreams, however, remain unhelpful."

"Because it means much less peace, whether in waking hours or sleeping," she murmurs and moves her hand to touch his smile.

"And I would have only peace for you, and joy, if the choice were mine."

"Perhaps it has been better for me that the choice has not been yours, then," he says, smiling more at her touch, and kissing the fingers that touch his mouth.

"Peace and joy is our reward, perhaps."

"Aye," she allows, and her own mouth smiles at his kiss, "but I can wish such things for you anyway, in the present, can't I?"

"As I wish them for you," he agrees, moving his hand to cover hers and leaning forward to kiss her gently.

It's soft and slow and when she pulls away it's only enough to lean her forehead against his.

"I do have you, anyway."

"For always," he smiles, putting a hand up to her cheek.

"Then I've more than joy enough," she concludes, simply, and leans into his touch.