you know, i have no idea how all four of them start sleeping together.
also, i am maniacally in love with your lucy.
when peter's in jail and susan's off pretending to be normal, edmund and lucy go to finchley. it's the first time they've been here in more than ten years, and it's -- shockingly familiar. it seems like nothing's changed. they drive past the high school and it's exactly the same -- oh, a new coat of paint, a new signboard (PEPSI, it says and, WELCOME HOME LIONS HOMECOMING 2006 and lucy and edmund exchange certain looks), and the track has been refinished, but otherwise, this could be their finchley, and it could be peter and susan in the front seat bitching at each other and fucking greg flaherty and the finchley high football team on the field and edmund's cross-country team warming up on the track before setting off to roam around town. there are cheerleaders on the track now, working around the cross-country team, and lucy's eyes settle on them curiously for a moment before she looks away.
"did you miss it?" she asks. "this? being here?"
edmund shrugs. "of course."
they pull away, drive slowly through town. it seems smaller, now, more provincial. they pass the falcone garage, replete with mobbed up thugs and the ever-present horde of soon-to-be mobbed up teenagers standing around, trying to look cool. edmund idles at a stoplight, eyeing them, and lucy says, high-pitched, "edmund, don't."
and then dino falcone walks out.
he looks older, is edmund's first thought, and then he gives it up and pulls the car, turns off the ignition, and gets out. lucy scrambles out after him. "edmund!" she exclaims, and the sound of her voice carries.
dino's head turns and for a moment, he doesn't recognize edmund, not until he does. "i will be fucking god-damned," he declares. "is that edmund pevensie i see there? the son of a bitch who shot me?"
"the son of a bitch who shot you when i was sixteen, asshole," edmund says.
dino's eyes flick over to lucy. there's a gun beneath the fall of edmund's carhartt jacket, but he doesn't reach for it; doesn't have to.
dino sneers a little. "where's your brother, edmund?" he asks, a low purr. "where's peter?"
"wouldn't you like to know," edmund says, and then he says, "just came back so you wouldn't forget we were still here. we'll be going now."
"yes," lucy says, "we will."
"why, lucy," dino says, "you've grown up real nice."
she flips him off as they get back in their car.
"anyone else you'd like to see?" she asks edmund, archly, once they're back on the road. "mom? dad? greg flaherty? your old cross-country coach?"
they turn onto grant street and edmund remembers the sharp scent of blood, peter's fear, the kick of the gun in his hands all those months later. there's nothing here to show that anything ever happened, that a man died.
Re: 2/2
also, i am maniacally in love with your lucy.
when peter's in jail and susan's off pretending to be normal, edmund and lucy go to finchley. it's the first time they've been here in more than ten years, and it's -- shockingly familiar. it seems like nothing's changed. they drive past the high school and it's exactly the same -- oh, a new coat of paint, a new signboard (PEPSI, it says and, WELCOME HOME LIONS HOMECOMING 2006 and lucy and edmund exchange certain looks), and the track has been refinished, but otherwise, this could be their finchley, and it could be peter and susan in the front seat bitching at each other and fucking greg flaherty and the finchley high football team on the field and edmund's cross-country team warming up on the track before setting off to roam around town. there are cheerleaders on the track now, working around the cross-country team, and lucy's eyes settle on them curiously for a moment before she looks away.
"did you miss it?" she asks. "this? being here?"
edmund shrugs. "of course."
they pull away, drive slowly through town. it seems smaller, now, more provincial. they pass the falcone garage, replete with mobbed up thugs and the ever-present horde of soon-to-be mobbed up teenagers standing around, trying to look cool. edmund idles at a stoplight, eyeing them, and lucy says, high-pitched, "edmund, don't."
and then dino falcone walks out.
he looks older, is edmund's first thought, and then he gives it up and pulls the car, turns off the ignition, and gets out. lucy scrambles out after him. "edmund!" she exclaims, and the sound of her voice carries.
dino's head turns and for a moment, he doesn't recognize edmund, not until he does. "i will be fucking god-damned," he declares. "is that edmund pevensie i see there? the son of a bitch who shot me?"
"the son of a bitch who shot you when i was sixteen, asshole," edmund says.
dino's eyes flick over to lucy. there's a gun beneath the fall of edmund's carhartt jacket, but he doesn't reach for it; doesn't have to.
dino sneers a little. "where's your brother, edmund?" he asks, a low purr. "where's peter?"
"wouldn't you like to know," edmund says, and then he says, "just came back so you wouldn't forget we were still here. we'll be going now."
"yes," lucy says, "we will."
"why, lucy," dino says, "you've grown up real nice."
she flips him off as they get back in their car.
"anyone else you'd like to see?" she asks edmund, archly, once they're back on the road. "mom? dad? greg flaherty? your old cross-country coach?"
they turn onto grant street and edmund remembers the sharp scent of blood, peter's fear, the kick of the gun in his hands all those months later. there's nothing here to show that anything ever happened, that a man died.
"no," he says, "let's blow this joint."