PETER:

"There, he's gone." She sighed.

"I feel bad... he wanted to help. I told him a little, but he's only ten. A year younger than Michael is. Was." She sighed again, dropping her head and pulling Susan's dress from the basket. "Peter?"

"Mhmm?"

She hesitated. "Edmund said you have been worried about me. Ever since I came back."

"I have been. So worried. What happened, Ruth? What did you see?"

"I saw my family die," she blurted out.

I immediately dropped the shirt in the water. I turned to face her, but she was squinting into the distance, clutching the dress. I opened my mouth to say something, some wise words of comfort that would fix everything, but nothing came to mind. Ruth. Always so happy, always the first to help, always the first to stick her neck out for someone else. She... was really broken on the inside.

"I saw my family die. I had buried the memory. At least I thought I had. The nightmares stopped in the professor's house. They didn't happen here, either. But when I saw Hesturi die, they came flooding back. I've had the nightmare every night."

"You've been crying for Mary and Abigail and Michael in your sleep, especially last night. I... I didn't want to say so in front of Edmund."

"Those were my siblings' names. I saw them die. I was the oldest. I should have protected them. But I couldn't. I was the last one in the house. The bomb dropped in the street. Peter, I saw them die."

I rested my hand on her trembling white knuckles, and studied her white face. "You can set that down. It's okay. Come sit with me..."

She dropped the dress with a splash, and staggered back onto the sand. She sat down hard, and I quickly sat next to her.

I wanted to wrap my arms around her. To shelter her from her past. To protect her against future danger. I wanted to say something to fix everything. To erase the memory. To bring her family back. Anything to help her. Anything to protect her from herself. But I remained frozen in place, dumbstruck. I was scared. She had finally trusted me. I didn't know what to do to maintain that trust. I knew any move I made could break it.

She pulled her knees to her chest. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it. Every time there is silence, I hear it. That's why I've been here. The waves never stop. I can stare into the horizon forever. I'm sorry for worrying you. I'm sorry for everything. I really am."

"Don't be," I said, slowly turning to face her, elbows resting on my knees. "Thank you for trusting me."

She nodded, but I knew she hadn't heard me. "I want to be with your family. I really do. But it's so hard. Lucy's unicorn hunt reminds me of the twins' fairy tales. Edmund is almost Michael's age. You and Susan remind me of myself, a long time ago, back when I had a family to care for. But now I don't. I should have died with them, Peter, I really should have." With that, she began to cry, broken gasps and ragged sobs escaping from beneath her hands.

My breath hitched in my throat. "No," I gasped, wrapping my arms tightly around her. "No no no no no, Ruth, no."

"I keep doing things wrong," she sobbed. "I make a mess of everything I touch. Hesturi is dead because of me, and-"

"Shh..." She lowered her hands and sobbed into my chest, clinging tightly to me. I rocked back and forth slowly, fingers absently moving up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her. I remained silent, letting her cry. I don't know how long we were there, but my hold never loosened.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling away and wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I replied, tucking a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes, typically green-grey, had turned startlingly blue, the whites of her eyes completely bloodshot. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin pale, with dark circles under her eyes. But in that moment, I did not see a mess. I saw a broken girl who had finally surrendered her secrets to someone she trusted. Someone she trusted to help her put the pieces back together. "Do you feel better?"

"I needed that. Thank you." She hiccuped then, causing her flushed cheeks to darken.

"Always," I said. I drew a deep breath. "Ruth, I can't imagine life without you here. Think about everything you've done so far for us, and for Narnia."

"That's what Edmund said," she admitted. "I know, and I'm glad I've been able to do so much. I just... I'm constantly haunted by the fact that I couldn't do anything to save my siblings. They really looked up to me. Trusted me to take care of them."

"I'm sure you did everything you could."

"Well..."

"Tell me about that night, Ruth," I urged softly. "Let me prove you wrong."

She drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a quivering sigh. "I was staying up late, sewing a hole in Mary's skirt. Abigail got out of bed, saying she missed Father. I took a picture out of a frame, of our whole family, and gave it to her, saying she'd have sweet dreams about him. I happened to wake up the other two, who decided they wanted the same thing. While we looked for more pictures, we happened to wake my mum up, who got out a whole box of pictures. We looked through those until the little ones were tired again, then after they fell asleep, my mum and I kept looking. We were both awake when we heard the sound of planes. She went to wake the others up, while I grabbed things for each of them out of the playroom. The twins' favorite dolls, and Michael's favorite book. I was the last one out of the house." She paused, her eyes moistening. "But the bomb dropped in the street. I was standing in the door frame when it fell. I saw them die."

"I'm so sorry, Ruth," I murmured, wanting to hold her again but deciding to wait until the end of her story. "What did you do after that?"

"I ran and hid under my parents' bed, clutching the box of pictures. I cried myself to sleep; the constables pulled me out of the wreckage the next morning."

"You're so strong. So strong."

"I don't feel it," she whispered. "I don't feel strong, or brave, or even useful. I don't know what to do or where to go."

"But you know who to trust," I asserted with a gentle grin.

She looked down at the sand, and shyly reached for my hand. I grasped it readily, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. She smiled and looked back up at me. "Does this mean you want me to stay here?"

"Absolutely."

I inched closer to her, and cupped her face in my hand. I lowered my face until she was all I could see.

"Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"And I trust you with mine." I slowly pulled away and stood, pulling her up with me. "Do you want me to be happy?"

"Of course."

"Then will you stay here? With me, with us, in Narnia?"

A smile crept across her face. "Yes."

I dropped her hand and pulled her into a tight hug. She hugged back with equal ferocity, if not more.

"Let's go home," she said.

I grinned. "Sounds great to me." I walked back into the water and hefted a basket. "After we finish the laundry, of course."

"You're no fun," she pouted.

"Oh, no fun, you say?" I dropped the basket and flung a handful of water in her face. She squealed and rushed in after me. Needless to say, it was a while before the laundry was done that day.