So faint, so blue, so far removed,
Sweet dreams of home my heart may fill,
That home where I am known and loved:
-

"That bone isn't for you, Brownie!" Sanya clicked her tongue. "You know very well I tossed it to Snow- don't give me that look!"

Brownie stared at her for a moment, and then the dog leapt ahead to lick at the knee of her trousers.

"Oh, these are new-" She groaned, but she was also laughing as she clumsily patted the oak-brown dog's head. "No, Fluffy, that's not an invitation for you to-"

But it was too late- the fluffy-eared dog that she had rescued a few months ago had begun his quest to eat her shoes.

Sanya rolled her eyes, laughing- she was used to it by now, the hunting dogs at Azraq had been fond of shoes, too. She didn't understand why, but she wasn't going to judge them.
She bent to pick up the meaty bone she had thrown to hand it to Snow, the white mongrel that had shown up when she had been whistling for Fluffy and Brownie.

The three were the most energetic of the dogs- there were four others, physically larger but cowardly in nature, and Sanya continuously felt bad for them. She understood the irony of their personality and size.

"Don't worry." She told the four- Tommy, Kalo, Shada, and Frappy. They hung around behind the three, and did not dart forward as enthusiastically, though they were easily just as hungry. "I have a whole packet of biscuits just for you- now, where was I about the film-"
She'd been telling them about the film she had seen the other day- Days of Glory. It hadn't been a very good film, though it had been enjoyable, but the main reason she was talking about it was because the protagonist's actor was very handsome. She'd made Susan ask one of the workers at the cinema what his name was- she had missed it in the credits- and she had been told it was Gregory Peck.
Another to add to the list of attractive celebrities.

"Excuse me." A voice called, and Sanya looked up to see a boy staring at her, his clothes darned and his ears too big for his head. "Ah' you feeding the dogs?"

"Um." Was it not clear? "Yes."

"Oh." He looked quite fascinated. "I've never seen anyone from this building feed any of the dogs around here."

"Well, people are quite mean." She shrugged. "Do you feed them?"

He blushed, "Sometimes. When there's enough food."

Sanya felt embarrassed. Sometimes, she forgot just how dire the situation of most families in this world were- and she wished she could help.
If she was Queen here, she would've been able to help.
"That's very kind of you." She told him, smiling slightly. He was tall, almost her height- but he seemed a few years younger. "What's your name?"

He looked wary, "I don't know if-"

"I'm Sanya Rainsford." She had no qualms about telling her name to the kid- and if that happened to assure him to tell her his, that would be nice. "You don't need to tell me yours. No pressure."

He still looked wary, but he stuck out his hand.
"Leonard Nimoy." He said, before adding, "But I'm called Lenny."

Sanya shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, Lenny."

"You ain't from around here, are you?"

She shook her head, "Born in India- and then I've been in England for the past few years. Long story."

"Yeah, my parents say the same about coming to the States." Then he bent to scratch Frappy's ears. "This one stays near my place. He used to chase me on my way to school."

"You live around here?"

He nodded, "West End. Dad's shop is in Mattapan, though."

"I'm afraid I don't know enough about the g-geography of Boston to know where that is."

He grinned, "No worries. It's hard if you ain't live here all your life."

She nodded, before handing him the biscuit packet.
"Do you want to feed them?"

He looked torn, "I- I can't. Ah've to get to work-"

"Work?" She stared at him. "But you're a child."

"I'm thirteen." Lenny told her, very matter-of-fact indeed. "I had my bar mitzvah this year, I'm no child."

"Bar mit-mits-mitzvah?"

"Oh, you really aren't from here. It's a coming of age shindig for us Jewish folk." He said, and then puffed out his chest proudly. "I sang during mine, and they liked it so much they asked me to sing again at a synagogue the next week."

Right, Clarke had told her about that- how had she forgotten?! It was also called a bat mitzvah, she believed.
"Is your work as a singer, then?"
It was unlikely- but America was weird. This whole world was weird. Who knew what may happen?

He looked sad suddenly, "No...I wish it was. I sell newspapers nowadays. I used to shine shoes, but people are more interested in news than clean shoes."

"Well, the state of the world is pretty precarious." She shrugged, before reaching into her pocket and fishing out some notes. "How about you sing for the dogs, Lenny? Maybe then they'd stop eating my clothes."

His eyes shone, "Really?"

"Yeah! Here- fifty dollars-" Her grandmother had given her far too much money for the journey, and she had only spent it on books and some other knick-knacks. She'd have to stay here for twenty years to spend it all. "Is that alright?"

He looked like he was about to cry, "That's more than my dad makes in days!"
But he was shaking his head almost immediately, "No, no- I can't, it's not right-"

"What's actually not right is a kid having to work because the world is going to the dogs." Then Sanya glanced to the dogs, sheepish. "No offence."
She turned back to Lenny, and held out the money to him, "I insist. I can give you more, and you can put it towards your career in singing-"

"Actually, I want to be an actor! Even though Dad says actors starve and at least musicians get some money..." Lenny looked sad again, and Sanya wished she could hug him.

It seemed Frappy had the same thought, for she promptly started licking his pant leg and pushing her forehead against his knee.

"Oi!" He laughed at the sudden movement. "Get off, boy-"

"Girl." Sanya corrected, and then put the money in the boy's hand. She was grinning at him. "Sing, Mr. Nimoy. Maybe that'll make them behave."

Lenny cleared his throat, "Are you sure I won't be heckled?"

"I'll set the dogs on them if anyone dares. Or I'll attack them myself." Sanya said, and then nudged him with an elbow. "If you're shy, you don't have to sing. It's okay."

He shook his head again, "How can I be an actor if I'm shy, Miss Sanya?"

He had a fair point there.

Even two days later, late at night, Sanya was still humming the song that Lenny had sung- the one he had sung at her bar mitzvah, he had told her- when a voice suddenly called out.

"Sanya, dear- are you awake?"

Sanya turned around as the bedroom door opened.
"Yes, I am." She'd not only been humming- she had been combing her hair, too. It had been a few days since she had properly done it- and there were so many knots! And so much hair was falling, too- the book of Oscar Wilde's poems was covered with silky strands of her forsaken hair.
She was contemplating just giving up and going to sleep. There were flecks of mud and leaves in her hair, too- perhaps she should just have a shower now, even though it was pushing ten at night...
"Why, Mrs. Pevensie?"

"Helen, dear, if you please-" Her mother-in-law corrected quickly, a smile on her face, "and there's a telephone call for you."

"For me?"
She had thought it was nearly impossible for an overseas phone call to be carried out- but it had to be someone from England, of course. She didn't know anyone in America except Lenny, and it was doubtful that he had the money to call her.

Mina? She had told her where she was staying in Boston- if she was back in England, she easily could've gotten hold of the telephone number. It couldn't have been Bonnie- overseas communication, from telegram to radio, was expensive, she had been told, and of the two, only Mina could've afforded it.

But more likely than not, it was Maude. Sanya had written to her, too- but short letters, detailing nothing much of consequence and only giving assurances that she hadn't done anything that would lead to her being thrown out of the country.

Besides, Maude knew she disliked phone calls. It made sense that she would call her on the telephone, just to annoy her.
She pulled her uncombed hair into a half-ponytail and half-bun, fully messy, and got to her feet.
"Coming, Mrs- er, Helen." She just had to look for her slippers- the floor was really rather cold. "I'll be there in a second."

"Hurry, dear." Her mother-in-law smiled, before closing the door and presumably walking away.

About a minute later, Sanya was standing by the telephone, her hand on its sleek surface, and she wondered how to greet Maude.

Strangely, there was no one in the living room of the apartment. Susan had been playing cards with her parents here, while she had been tackling her hair- but now there was no one. Were they that much in awe of her 'grandmother', that they gave her complete privacy?
"Hello?"

"Sanya." A voice sounded, breathless and a little scratchy- the latter was due to the quality of the call, but the former was for other reasons. It was not her grandmother's voice. "How are you?"

There was utter silence on the other end.

"Er-" Edmund wondered if the call had been dropped- it was on a limit, unfortunately, "it's Ed-"

"I know." Sanya hadn't meant to say that. She hadn't meant to say anything. Edmund was calling- Edmund- and today. Today? Had he chosen it on purpose? "Hi."

"Hi." He replied softly. It had been five months since he had heard her voice. The last time had been when she'd yelled at him to get out, in the beginning of February- and it was June now. "I reckon you're surprised-"

"Very." She said quietly, sinking into the chair next to the telephone. Was it good surprise or bad surprise, though? "I thought overseas calls were really rare- impossible, even, if you're not a military higher-up."

"Yes- Dad pulled some strings. And Uncle Harold works in something about communications- that helped. I'm actually in a telephone booth right now-"

"You're not at home?"

She heard him swallow, "I haven't been at home for a while."

Did he mean- her? Or was she just reading into it?
"You know what I mean." She said sharply, trying to not be affected by his words. His accent was even more divine than usual. "Have you spoken to your parents and Su yet? They should-"

"I did- I did. It's a twenty-four minute call-" that had been what he had been told, but he was frankly unsure if that length was guaranteed or not, "we each talked to Mum for two minutes, Dad for two minutes, Su for three- Lucy'll talk to you after me for four minutes, she really wants to chat with you-"

Two- double two's, so two plus two- which was four- plus two more twos- four and four, which made eight- then three and three for Susan, making- what was it? Eight and three and three- fourteen, yes- and Lucy would talk with her for four minutes, which brought it to eighteen.
Eighteen out of twenty-four-
"I don't think I'm worth six minutes."

"You're worth everything."

If he said the words, she'd crawl back to him. She'd swim across the Ocean to be back with him.
Or- perhaps that was a bit much. She adored swimming and Edmund, but considering how lethargic she was...
She would certainly find the fastest ship back to England, though.
"Edmund..." She murmured, clutching the telephone so tightly her knuckles were almost pale. "Say 'Moonshine'."

"Moonshine." He whispered. A tremor rippled through his body, and he knew he was probably covered in goosebumps. "Moonshine, my darling, I miss you."

"I miss you, too." She said softly, feeling her eyes moisten. She could imagine his dark, dark eyes, surrounded by those pale stars over his even paler face. "Oh, husband- I wish-"
That I'd never left.
But she couldn't say that. She didn't want to seem more pitiable than she already did.
"I wish I could see you."

"Me too. I'm- I'm so sorry- I regret that-"

Sanya felt her heart creep into her throat.
He would ask to be hers again. He had to. They'd be together once more- and things would get better. Even if every single other thing was bad- she would have him with her again.

"That I hurt you."

Oh. What? She'd thought he would say 'that I broke up with you'- or 'that I left you'- because those would've easily led to them making up and being together...
"I'm used to it." She said, sounding more curt than she had intended. "How's Cambridge?"

Used to it. Edmund felt like hitting himself.
"It's fine. More intolerable than tolerable- but it has its perks."
Oscar was one of those perks. Trying to sneak out his aunt's papers so he could attempt to enlist was not.
"Can't wait to be home, though. I miss my bed."

Edmund laughed, and Sanya wanted to scream.
He meant Finchley. By home- he meant Finchley. He didn't mean her, like she had hoped, or Narnia, as he ought to- he meant Finchley. Finchley!
But she wasn't far gone enough to lose her mind on that.
"Yes, I miss mine, too."

"Back in Finchley? Yeah, it's just not the same-"

"No. In Rihaaya." He was right. It really wasn't the same. Nothing was. "You know- my home. Narnia was my home, too- but Rihaaya more, I think."

There was a second of silence, before Edmund's voice came again, "Sanya, I don't want to argue- so, please-"

"I'm not arguing." She wasn't. She wasn't! She was simply pointing out what he'd forgotten. "Just reminding you that Finchley isn't my home. Nothing in this world is."
Except him.
But he wouldn't want to hear that.

"You made the choice to come here, Sanya-"

Sanya. He was angry with her.
Good. She was angry, too.
"I did, when I thought our love was more important than anything."

"It is-"

"Then why did you break up with me?" She said- she knew his reasons, but if love truly was more important, then he wouldn't have! He wouldn't have left! "I wanted to be with you- didn't you want the same? Don't you love me?"

"More than anything."

"Then- why? We were together- we were finally together, after so long- that should have been everything."

"Yes, we were together. And yes, I did- do want the same- so much." Edmund shut his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. "But not like that. Not like this. We weren't right, and we needed to be apart-"

"No, we didn't!" Sanya yelled. She wanted to punch a wall again, and her leg started bobbing even more wildly. "We needed each other. But you left- at least you had an excuse about leaving in my world-"

She probably hadn't meant it that way, but his temper spiked, "Our world!"

"No! That was my world. I was born in it, I lived in it since my first breath, and I was born to rule part of it. That was my world. You found the world, but that doesn't make it yours." Besides, he called Finchley- and this world- home. One could have more than one home- but there was only one they could truly belong to. For her, it was Rihaaya. For Edmund, she had thought it would be Narnia- but it seemed she was wrong. "This is your world, Edmund. This is your home."

"It has to be home, since I was booted out of Narnia-"
It had been almost two years! Two years since he had been to his true home. He knew he would go again- he waited patiently, and he had hope- but while he didn't, he needed to have a makeshift home to try to fix the split in the heart.

"You wouldn't have been, if you'd just not gone after the White Stag. Or if you'd stayed in bed with me, like I had-" begged, she had begged, "asked you to. But you left. Every time- you left. You chose something else over me."

His voice came, low and seething, "Do you think I'd have made the same choices, if I had known what they'd lead to?"

Sanya took a deep breath. She would’ve loved to say that no, he wouldn’t have made the same choices- that he would’ve chosen her over hunting, chosen her over the world he’d been born in, chosen her over everything else. Even a few months ago, she would’ve said it, believing it with every fibre of her being.
"I don't know, Ed."
But she didn't know if she believed it anymore.
"Would you have?"

He wasn't even angry anymore- he was just stunned.
"Are you seriously saying that?"

"You leaving is a pattern by now." Her face was crumpling- her heart was crumbling.

When he had gone away on his own during the quest for Graeme- when he had left for the reconnaissance mission on the Giants- when he had walked away from her to punch Rabadash- when he had gone to Calormen, and he hadn't asked for her- when he had gone to hunt the White Stag- and then a thousand years later, when he'd chosen to attend Aslan's ceremony over spending time with her.

And then when he had walked out of her room, just a few months ago. Yes, she'd told him to leave- but only because he had ended their relationship.

She hadn't really noticed it before- she had never seen the pattern. But she saw it now.

"You're always the one who leaves. Even though you promised me- you promised me not again, never again-"

"And I meant it- and I mean it now, but-"

He didn't mean it. If he meant it, they wouldn't be in separate continents. If he meant it, they would be together in every single way possible.
"Who's lying now?"

"Oh, so you admit you were lying-"

"Seriously?" Six minutes was not enough, if they were to get into this once more. "Again?"

"Yes, ag- oh, for the love of- see? We're fighting again. This is why I asked for a break- we need to learn to be alone!"

"I was alone!" She cried, jumping to her feet. She was too antsy to sit. "I was alone for a thousand fucking years. I didn't need that again. I needed you. I need you. You."

There was silence again, taking up more of the precious time.

"I don't think I'll call again."
No matter how much his heart ached to hear Sanya's voice. No matter how badly it hurt to be away from her.
Talking just hurt her- hurt him.
Different continents, yet even such distance didn't stop them from affecting each other's hearts.

Sanya was glad that Edmund sounded cold- it made her feel less guilty that she'd sound furious.
"Good. Don't. It's not like Jem's going to have another birthday this year." She said, her voice trembling and full of rage at the same time.

The reason she had had leaves in her hair- she'd been burying a flower in Boston Common, one of the parks- because it was her son's birthday. The day he'd become her baby.
And the day she had left him and her daughters behind forever.

"Give the phone to Lucy."

Edmund said nothing more, and Sanya took the next thirty seconds to push the emotion and rage out of her voice.
Lucy didn't deserve to be raged at.

Lucy's voice came through soon- though, it sounded much less chirpy than expected, without even the slightest hint that exclamation marks would be needed, if it was ever penned down.
"Hi, Sanya."

"Hi, Lu. You alright?" She sounded a bit downcast- had she heard the conversation with Edmund? "Did you just wake up?"

"No, it's evening time. And I'm alright-" Lucy sighed then, "it's just been an off-putting day."

"Please, tell me." Others' misery would take her mind off her own a little- and who knew, perhaps she could help Lucy with whatever it was. "What's wrong?"

"Well, for the last week, there was this boy in the marketplace- and he's been staring at me." Before her sister-in-law could bring up her lack of romantic interest, the once-Valiant added quickly, "I'm still not interested in all that- but it was flattering, you know? It was nice to know that I was seen."

"I understand that." That was part of the reason why she'd had sex with Edmund the first time- he had seen her. He had wanted her. No one else ever had, and she had been sure no one else ever would.
Well, except Rabatrash, but the man who'd molested her didn't count in the least.
"Go on. Did you talk to him?"

"No. Yes. Well, he came up to me today." Lucy said, and Sanya was entirely clueless as to how the story might end- her tone gave no indicators. "He apologised for staring at me-"

"Oh, satisfying to know that it was you-"

"And then he asked me where I got my hat from." She ended glumly. "Apparently it's his girlfriend's birthday soon, and he wanted to get her a hat. He wasn't staring at me- but at my hat."
She'd never be wearing hats again, she had decided then and there.

"That's-" Sanya winced, "well, rather soul-crushing."

"I always had fewer admirers than Susan- you can understand why-"

Sanya could understand why, but saying yes would just be mean.

"But I'd never cared about it much, not then. Beauty didn't matter to me. I was a warrior and healer before anything else- but now- I just- it's- is it too shallow to want to be beau-"

There was a sudden click, and the line went dead.

"Lucy! Lucy-" Sanya shook the telephone, but the other line stayed silent.

Fuck.

She slammed the telephone back into the receiver, and stared at it for a few long moments.

She knew it was impossible, but she wanted it to ring again. She wanted to finish her conversation with Lucy- she wanted to talk to Edmund without arguing.
She hadn't even told him she loved him.

"Sanya?" It was Susan, emerging from her parents' room, clad in a nightgown and holding a deck of cards. She sounded unsure and worried. "Is the call over?"

Sanya nodded, still staring at the telephone.

Don't you love me?

More than anything.

She could have said she loved him, too. She could've said the three words- it would've taken two seconds.
She'd told herself she would tell him she loved him as much and as often as possible, after how long they'd been apart. She'd promised herself she would never stop telling him she loved him.

Turning to head back to her room, Sanya muttered to herself, "Guess it's not just Edmund breaking promises."
--

"Are you sure you're eighteen?"

The reply came instantly, Edmund's brows raised, "Why, do I look older?"

The officer blinked, looking gobsmacked at the retort- but he soon schooled his features into the usual hard suspicion as he looked down at the identification card.

Moment of truth. Moment of truth. Moment of truth.

Sanya, his brain supplied for some reason, and he felt like someone had punctured his lung.

Edmund was quite sure he wouldn't be able to breathe until he finished this, one way or the other.
Hopefully in a way that led to his plan working.

"Alberta Scrubb?"

"That's a typographical error." He answered calmly, sounding as though he'd been told this before and that he had said these words in response so many times. "It's supposed to be Albert A. Scrubb."

"Hm." The officer looked at him suspiciously, and then down at the card.

He was believing him! Edmund's plan- scheme- was working! Oh, he just needed him to-

"Edmund!" Called a reproachful voice from the back of the enlistment building, and he felt his heart sink.

He turned quickly, to see Lucy standing at the doorway and staring at him. She looked displeased and almost fed up.

"You're supposed to be helping me with the groceries."

The boy standing next to Edmund, short and blond, laughed, before reaching out to tap him on the hand.
"Better luck next time, eh, squirt?"

Squirt! Edmund was taller than him! He was one to talk.
He scowled at him, fixing his hat, before turning to the officer.

He no longer looked suspicious, but quite amused and smug, as he handed back the identification card.

Edmund took it, as the blond boy kept laughing, and he walked away.

"Squirt!" He exclaimed, as he and Lucy left the place, walking to where he'd parked the bicycle. "He barely had two years on me."
He was turning seventeen in two weeks! He wasn't a child- far, far from.
"I'm a King-" Edmund went on, still furious, as he took the groceries from his sister's arms, "I've fought wars, and- I've led armies."

"Not in this world." Lucy reminded him, for how could she not? She didn't want Edmund to turn into how Peter had become when they'd returned from their first visit.
At least he wasn't constantly complaining that it had been almost two years, and they had yet to return to Narnia. Whatever vices were springing their claws upon Edmund- he was always patient.

"Yeah- instead I'm stuck here-" He grumbled, fixing the bags into the basket, "doing battle with Eustace Clarence Scrubb."
He wanted to snort, because the name was certainly snort-worthy, but he was too irritated.
"If anyone so deserves the name."

"At least you're spending time with Oscar." She said kindly- she wasn't sure if that reminder would help, though, but she was too distracted. There was a couple a little farther away, the girl leaning against the pillar and smiling up at the boy she was standing with.
She was tucking her hair behind her ear and the boy was leaning even closer, and Lucy couldn't stop staring.
Would she be looked at, if she did that?
Almost without meaning to, her hand went to her hair and she mimicked the action.

Oscar. Right, Oscar. Almost every moment that he wasn't at the Scrubb house or with Lucy, Edmund was with his former rugby captain. He'd been surprised at how enjoyable his company was- he actually looked forward to meeting him, it was frankly unbelievable.

Last time they had gone out- yesterday- they'd gone to his favourite bookshop, and he'd been downright giddy at the prospect of taking him there.

He'd always preferred to go to bookshops alone- or with Sanya, his brain reminded him again, though he was trying to not think of her- but he had liked going there with Oscar, too.
"Yeah, Oscar's nice- it's his birthday tomorrow, I haven't even-" Edmund broke off, staring at his sister in confusion. Her hair seemed fine- why was she fiddling with it? "What are you doing?"

Lucy's eyes snapped to his, her dreamy smile disappearing.
"Nothing!" She said, panicked, and then lunged forward to grave the bicycle's handles. How embarrassing! "Come on, then!"

Edmund blinked- he looked back in the direction she was staring at, but there was nothing except a sickening couple and some plants and bushes.
Strange.
But he followed after her nevertheless, deciding that some mysteries did not have to be probed into.

The advantages of hitting Eustace, though, definitely ought to be probed into.

Edmund was just minding his business, taking his coat off and sticking his tongue out at his vegetable of a uncle- the man wasn't even responding to Lucy's news that she had only found turnips, instead of carrots- when a shrill voice rang out.

"Harold, Edmund's making faces at you!"

He turned around, surprised- how in the world could Eustace tell what expressions he was making, he was to the back of him-

And then he felt a little blob of something cold and wet hit his skin.
Eustace was on top of the staircase, holding a spit-straw held inches from his mouth. The spit-straw and the boy appeared to be the culprits behind the cold and wet blob.

It took Edmund a moment to register what had happened- and when it clicked, his hands curled into fists.
"Why, you little-"
He sped towards the staircase- he hadn't been able to hit that blond twat at the enlistment office, but it was no matter, Eustace was even more of a blond twat-

"Harold!" The boy dropped his straw, cowering down as his cousin advanced. "Harold, he's going to hit me!"

Unfortunately, when his fist was an inch from his face, Lucy's voice called out gleefully, "Edmund, look!"

Edmund did look- though he did not want to look, he wanted to pummel his cousin. Perhaps he'd go for his wife's signature attack, and break his nose.
But before he could contemplate on that, he focused on Lucy.

His sister was holding up a letter, a wide smile on her face, like he hadn't seen in a while.
He knew it wouldn't be- but there was a pang in his chest, a good pang, as he was struck by the momentary hope that the letter was from the love of his life.
"It's from Susan!"

But they hadn't had a letter from Susan since Lucy's birthday last month, and they'd been deeply wanting for news- so, Edmund did not let his disappointment show on his face.
Perhaps the letter might tell them that the reason for the delay was that they were returning to England. Perhaps it might actually hold good news.
And so, he nodded at his sister, before sweeping up the stairs- stepping over Eustace and resisting the urge to kick him- and making his way into Lucy's room- where, hopefully, they'd have some semblance of peace.

"Dear Lucy and Edmund," Lucy read clearly, Edmund sitting next to her on her temporary bed, "I'm dreadfully sorry it's been a while since letters- the post office here closed for a few days, and the neighbourhood was all in an uproar. Don't worry, the post office opened yesterday- and we're all fine-"

Edmund interrupted, "When was this letter mailed?"

"July 23rd."
Exactly a month ago. Letters usually took two to three weeks to arrive- but this one had taken a whole month. Perhaps the overseas network of travel had been wonky this past month.
Lucy read on, "I do wish you were here with us. It's been such an adventure- but nothing like our times in Narnia."

Of course it was nothing like Narnia. It wasn't Narnia.
Narnia was home, Edmund thought, and he wished he didn't remember what Sanya had said. He called England and Finchley home, because that was where he lived.
But Narnia was his home of homes, a lá heart of hearts. Narnia, with Sanya and their children, and all its wonder- it would always be his true home.
Even if he was no longer in Narnia, and he didn't have Sanya, and their children were dead- it'd be the truth.

"America is very exciting- except we never see Father. He works so very hard." Lucy paused for a moment, biting her lip. She hoped her mum was doing alright. "I was invited to the British Consul's tea party this week by a naval officer- everyone tells me how handsome he is, and how lucky I am. I think he fancies me."

Edmund snorted. What a futile fancy it was.

"If that's true, he won't be fancying me after the tea party, because I intend to politely request him to never invite me out again."
Lucy almost laughed, but she didn't- she couldn't. Susan didn't even want the attention, but she got all of it. Every single bit. "Hm."
She cleared her throat, and went on, "Sanya's been invited to the party, too- by his younger brother."

Edmund turned his face away from the letter, his emotions finally showing on his face, and he got to his feet. He needed to be pacing, if he had to hear news that his wife was dating someone else. Had the telephone call finally pushed her into moving on?

He really should've managed to enlist. Blowing himself up in battle would hurt less.

"She's been steadily ignoring him for months, if not being downright rude, but he seems to take that as a challenge. I think that's the reason he wants her- because she's impossible. But it's funny, don't you think? Yet again a younger brother who's enamoured by Sanya Rainsford."

"Reza. Or Reza-Pevensie." Edmund muttered to himself, his eyes on the blue waters of the painting that hung on one wall.
He remembered how Sanya's eyes would glow blue- and how he had been her anchor. Was he still her anchor? Did she even want him to be that anymore?
The ship seemed vaguely familiar, too- especially the way it was built.
"Not Rainsford."

"It seems the Germans have made the crossing difficult right now."

Edmund was devoutly glad Susan had moved on to another topic. Anything was better than listening to things that made him realise what an unmitigated and foolish ass he had been.
He had thought taking a break was the wisest and most practical decision forward. But love wasn't at all about being wise or practical.

What's it like being in love?

Being in love was like Sanya, he thought. Quiet, passionate, in pain.

"Times are hard." Lucy's voice seemed to go flat, suddenly. "Mother hopes you won't mind another few months in Cambridge."
Edmund turned, horrified, and Lucy almost dropped the letter.
"Another few months!?" She groaned, looking more downcast than a typical English day. To think she'd been beaming so brightly when she'd seen the letter lying on the mantelpiece! "How will we survive?"

Her brother bounded back to the bed, gently taking the letter from her. He had to know what else Susan had written. About staying in America longer- about the war- about Sanya.
He hated today more than he hated Eustace.
He wished Oscar's birthday was that very day. He would've loved a distraction.
"You're lucky- at least you've got your own room." He made a face. "I'm stuck with mullet mouth."

"Susan and Peter are the lucky ones." Lucy sighed, getting up and going to the mirror that hung next to the painting. The High King and the Gentle Queen. "Off on adventures..."

"Yeah, they're the eldest and we're the youngest."

To himself, he read, "I know you two dislike it there- but I'm sure time will fly. You know if there's any chance of us coming home early at all, we'll take it. But until that chance comes- you'll have to tolerate being there."

"We don't matter as much."
He breathed quietly, pushing himself to lie down on the bed, his eyes straining through the paper for the word he longed to see.

Sanya's been invited

Sanya Rainsford.

Sanya isn't happy about being here longer,

There's a whole battalion of dogs outside- Sanya feeds them every day-

He folded the paper, setting it aside, and sat back up almost immediately. Lucy was murmuring something about Susan, but he wasn't listening.

He wanted to know more than just which animals Sanya was feeding- he wanted to know if she still laughed all dolphin-like, if the twinkle in her eyes still shone brighter than the Moon, if she rolled her hips as though sculpting something divine, if she still loved him.

He knew she was in love with him- but after everything he had done- you chose something else over me- did she still love him?

He'd understand if she didn't.

But as he got to his feet again, his mind went to the ship in the painting, the one Lucy stood next to, and the one that sailed across waters that his wife had once had complete power over.
Until she had abandoned those powers, and everything else, because she loved him.
"Lucy." He asked, moving to join at her side. The ship reminded him of home, another thing Sanya had given up for him. "Have you seen this ship before?"

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Leonard Nimoy

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(remini i will kill you for what you did to Ed's face, and polarr i will kill you for not allowing me to edit faces anymore)
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Lastly, memes:

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Talk about a disastrous phone-call. Yeesh.

At least I didn't send Edmund to war?

He is usually so level-headed and grave in decisions- and if he had been that during this 'break', he would NOT have telephoned Sanya.
But Sanya drives him crazy and makes him act less than rational- and this happened.

Also, ykw. I did not realise the constant parallel of Edmund being the one to leave until I was writing this very chapter. It was absolutely not intentional. And it genuinely blows my mind.
He always leaves. He always goes. He's the one to leave (except that one time in Ch13 of 'Alliance' where Sanya walked away), in almost every situation.
It's heart-wrenching.

Also heart-wrenching is Leonard Nimoy. I remember that he's dead at very random times, and I get very very sad at those times.
Also, if you don't know who Leonard Nimoy is- what. Literally, what. He played one of the most iconic characters EVER.
LEONARD FRICKIN' NIMOY!
When I found out that he lived in Boston at this time, I HAD to make Sanya meet him.

The phone-call also works as a booster to Edmund's 'should I try to enlist' dilemma from the last few chapters. He may as well, he thinks. This is his home, even though it's not his real home- even the True says it. He can't protect Narnia- but he can damn well try the same in England.

Which is ironic now, because the very same day he tries to enlist- he's going to return to Narnia.

That's right, folks, we're back in Narnia next chapter!
(Only next chapter. It is very long, since it encompasses all of VOTDT. And no, Sanya does not go to Narnia, but there is a very brief scene with her in Boston.)

Overseas phone calls were actually not possible back then, from what I researchrd. It's fine, though, I did say I would make some tiny tweaks to help the story, and this is it. The drama was worth the historical change btw.

Lastly- Sanya with doggos 🥺🥰
Also, the fact that her dog-naming has gone from naming them after mythological figures to naming them cutesy kiddish names is adorable and hilarious.

And, as always- I humbly and unashamedly ask you to vote on the chapters, and perhaps comment, too :)