Maaike

Fanfic: Learning to Dance

2008-07-02T23:03:44Z

Title: Learning to Dance
Author: </a></b></a>maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Challenge / prompt: Response to the fourth Weekly Drabble Challenge. Prompt: Reckoning
Genre: Romance
Wordcount: 2600+
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Caspian teaches Susan the ways of the sword.
Authors note: I took some liberties with the prompt, and decided to use 'reckon' instead of 'reckoning'....

Learning to dance

Her feet almost disappeared in the soft, warm and slightly damp grass. It had stopped drizzling an hour ago, and despite the humid air, Susan felt it was too warm today to stay indoors. Granted, it was cooler inside the castle, especially on the lower floors where her private chambers were, but the sun on the grass simply looked too inviting to ignore.

This day had been very dull for Susan. Both Edmund and Peter had left a week ago for negotiations about arsenal exchange with Galma, and couldn’t be expected to return early the next morning at earliest. Lucy had left early this morning, accompanied by Glenstorm, to have tea with Trumpkin. Susan briefly smiled. Only Lucy could have convinced their grumpy DLF to have tea.

The long damp grass dampened Susan’s dress as she walked on, but the didn’t mind. It was warm out today, and if anything, the moist cooled her down. But there was another downside to long grass; it masked the unevenness of the ground. Susan had not been paying attention to where she walked, more interested in the way the weak sun warmed her skin, and the smell of rain in the air, and was therefore caught off guard when her left foot caught on was probably a rabbit hole of some sort. She stumbled and replaced her right foot in order to re-gain her balance, but twisted her ankle in the process.

“Ow!” She shouted in surprise, and grabbed at her foot; a sharp pain began to spread. She could not see her foot, given the fact it was buried in the grass, and Susan cautiously tried to put some weight on it. Her ankle hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. I can make it to that tree over there.

Slightly limping, and careful now where she put her feet, Susan made her way over to one of the knobbly trees that marked the edge of the clearing. Behind these trees, Susan knew, lay the practise field. She had spent many hours there perfecting the archery skills or watching Peter try to defeat Edmund in a sword fight. Near the tree trunk the grass was slightly thinner, and Susan sat down to examine her ankle. It wasn’t swollen, thankfully. Susan prodded, poked and massaged the sore joint. It seemed she had sprained her ankle, but it would soon be alright.

It was when she was sitting there, with her back to the tree and both hands on her ankle, that she heard to unmistakable sounds of a swordfight. Remembering her close proximity to the practise field, Susan’s first thought was that Edmund had challenged Peter to combat again. Then she remembered that neither of them were around.

Giving in to her curiosity, Susan got to her feet, and carefully, walked past the trees and winding around the shrubs. She didn’t need to follow the sound of swords, she knew well where the practise field lay. The tall green tress blocked most of the sunlight, and when the forest suddenly became lighter Susan knew that she was close. A few meters further Susan could see the whispy little clouds in the blue sky, and she could make out a figure with a drawn sword moving on the field.

It was Caspian—Susan recognised his frame immediately—but he seemed to be alone. At first Susan was confused, thinking he was fighting on his own, slashing at the grass, until she heard a shrill voice that unmistakably belonged to Reepicheep.

“Well, done, sire! You nearly had me there.”

Caspian grunted something Susan couldn’t catch, and she leaned against one of the trees to observe them. Watching a sword fight was like watching a complicated dance that she couldn’t quite understand the steps of. The way they circled around each other, stepped forwards and back, dodging and blocking blows. Their dance took them to the far side of the field, and threatened to disappear behind the trees that still blocked Susan’s view. Wanting to see more, Susan walked a little closer to the practise field, forgetting about her ankle. It didn’t hurt very much, but the sudden sharp sting took her off guard and Susan hissed. It went unnoticed by Caspian, but mice have good ears and Reepicheep stayed his sword.

“What is it, Reep?” Caspian said, panting. Then he looked up and his eye fell on Susan, who’s purple dress didn’t quite blend in with the background. “My Queen!” he said with a surprised voice and a polite inclination of his head. “I wasn’t aware you were here.”

Susan smiled and walked closer, slowly. Reepicheep bowed so low his whiskers touched the ground, and Susan suspected that, if Aslan hadn’t given him his tail back, he would have toppled over. “Your Majesty.” He said humbly. Looking up again he no doubt noticed Susan’s small limp, because he frowned and added. “My Lady, are you hurt?”

“I seem to have injured my ankle.” Susan said with a small smile, that turned into a grimace when she felt another twinge.

“Allow me to call for a healer, you majesty.” Said Reepicheep, but Susan waved it away.

“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s not quite that bad.”

“A horse then, perhaps? So Your Highness will not have to walk the way home?”

Susan was about to recline this too, her pride in the way of accepting help, but then realised she had very little desire to limp her way back to the castle. “That would be appreciated.” She said, sheepishly. Reepicheep made another deep bow, and headed for the castle, disappearing in the grass. Susan watched him go, and then looked at Caspian. He still seemed a little short of breath from is exercise, and his hair was wet where it clung to his sweaty forehead. Clearly, Reepicheep had pushed him to his limits. “Training?” Susan said with a small smile.

Caspian nodded, and there was an audible pant in his voice when he replied; “I like to measure myself against the best. It’s the best way to learn.” He wiped his wet hair out his face. “Would you mind if I freshen up a little?” Caspian pointed over his shoulder, to where Susan knew was a small crook.

“Not at all.”

Still breathing heavily, Caspian smiled at her, and set his sword against a nearby tree. Susan watched him walk to the crook, but looked away blushing when he bent forward to reach to the water. Instead she fixed her attention on the sword he had left. It looked a little like Peter’s, but then again Susan couldn’t tell one sword from the next. She picket it up and weighed it in her hands. The blade was a little broader than Peter’s, she noticed. The handle was black, instead of wine-red, and there was no lion carved into the metal. She gripped the handle tightly in her right hand and swung it through the air three times. The sword felt strange and unstable in her hand. Her fingers were used to the bendable grace of the bow, not the cold, hard steel of a sword. She never understood why the sword was the preferred weapon of so many. If one thought about it logically, there were so many weapons more practical. The bow, or even the crossbow, has a bigger range. So does the spear. What was it about the sword that attracted people so strongly?

“You are holding it wrong.”

Caspian’s voice shook her out of her musings, and her head snapped up. His hair was wetter than it had been before, but this time it was because of clear water rather than sweat. His face was no longer flushed, and he spoke without panting. She let the hand holding the sword drop to her side. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I was just examining…”

“You hold it with both hands.” Caspian said, walking closer.

Susan raised her sword arm again, and firmly gripped the handle with both hands.

“Your left above your right, like this…” Caspian gripped the air in front of him to show her. “The other way around will hinder your movements.”

Susan swished the sword through the air again; she didn’t feel much difference. “I’ve seen Peter and Edmund fight with one hand.” She remarked. “And you too, come to think of it.”

Caspian nodded. “You can fight with one hand, if you’re skilled enough. The sword is heavy, and easier to manage with both hands. And more difficult for your opponent to force the sword out of your hands.” He smiled. “Why are you suddenly so interested?”

Susan shrugged and looked at the sword in her hands. “I was just wondering what was so special about swords that some people worship them and treat them like they’re living things.”

“But they almost are…” Caspian walked to Susan’s side and took the sword she was holding, gripping it tightly. “A sword is much more than just metal. It has a character, a story… it becomes a part of you, like a dear friend.” He sliced the air several times, his feet walking patterns in the grass. The sword lay so much more comfortable in his hand than it had done in hers. Susan recognised the dance she’d seen earlier and realised that the sword was as much a part of the dance as Caspian was. The way Caspian wielded it, the sword cut through the air in a swift and supple way that seemed impossible for a weapon that was so cold and hard and unbendable. Caspian had noticed Susan’s admiring look, and he lowered the sword point. Susan bit her lip.

“It’s almost like the sword changes when you’re holding it. I couldn’t make it do that.”

Caspian smiled a crooked grin. “That’s because you don’t know how. Did anyone every teach you?”

Susan shook her head. “There was no need,” she explained, “I already had my bow.”

“Then I’ll teach you.” He held out his sword to her. “Go on.”

Tentatively, Susan took his sword, and gripped it tightly with both hands like Caspian had shown her.

“Don’t squeeze too hard.” Caspian said, pointing at the white on her knuckles. “That’ll make it harder to move quickly. And there is no need to tire your hands like that.”

Susan loosened her grip slightly. “Alright, and now?”

“You bent your knees. Just a little.” Caspian said. “That will make it easier to keep your balance when you’re stepping back and forth.

When you’re dancing, Susan thought privately, but bent her knees according to Caspian’s instruction.

“Now, when you strike you don’t only use your wrists and arms, but your whole body. Your blows will be harder if you do.” Susan cut the air on front of her, but Caspian shook his head. “Try twisting your body when you strike; move your body along…” Susan tried again, willing her body to move in sync, but she only succeeded on losing her balance, and she had to quickly adjust her foot to keep from stumbling in front of Caspian. Luckily it was her good foot, or that might have hurt badly.

Caspian smiled, and stepped closer. “Do you mind if I show you?” Susan shook her head, but tensed when Caspian suddenly walked to stand close behind her. His body pressed against hers, he reached past her hold the sword with her, his arms on bother sides. Body contact was everywhere, and Susan felt herself heat up. “Bend your knees.” He reminded Susan softly, his breath hot against her neck. Susan felt her knees might turn to pudding if she did, but she obeyed, and found herself slightly leaning into Caspian. His smell, as well as his proximity, was intoxicating, and Susan blinked rapidly to clear her mind. “Before you strike, you turn your body backwards.” Susan felt how Caspian leaned back, and had to press herself against his front to mirror his movement. “Exactly like that, and then, at the same time, you bring the sword up.” Susan raised the sword high; a little higher than she normally would have done because Caspian was taller than her. “Now, when you swing, first twist your body back; your hips, then your shoulders, and you let the blow follow.”

Susan was very much aware of every movement of Caspian’s body against hers, and found herself moving along with him. Partly because she had no choice; he was pressing her forwards. With a smooth movement, the swords sliced the air, and Susan heard a faint whoosh of air. Then, Caspian was suddenly gone. There were no arms around hers anymore, and no pressure on her back. Susan blinked when she suddenly missed his warm breath; only his scent lingered faintly. She looked around her to find he had taken a few steps back, and noticed with a rush of satisfaction and pride that he was red in the face; this time it couldn’t have been due to heavy exercise.

“Did you feel the difference?” Caspian asked, and Susan nodded. “Try again.” He encouraged.

Wondering if it were inappropriate to ask if he could show her again, Susan tried to reproduce the swing she’d just made with Caspian. She concentrated on making a nice twist with her body, and was once again reminded of a dance-move… those had never come easily to her, either.

“Not bad at all,” Caspian approved, “but you might want to put a little more force into it.” He picked up a branch from the ground, and imitated the movement. “It you use your wrists you’ll gather more speed, but be careful it won’t affect your aim.”

Susan got ready for another try when new sounds reached her ears… the dull thumps of hooves on grass. Lowering the sword, Susan turned around to see two horses walking out of the shadow of the trees, one of which was ridden by the healer. The healer was an elderly Telmarine woman with long grey hair in a tight bun, but despite her age she swiftly dismounted her horse when she noticed the royalty.

“Good day to you, Your Majesties.” She bowed solemnly, and both Susan and Caspian inclined their heads in return. “Master Mouse tells me you have injured your foot, my Queen.”

Susan had to keep herself from sighing in annoyance. “Well, yes, I sprained my ankle, but I don’t think it really requires your attention.”

“At least allow me to escort you back to the castle, Milady, so that I may stop the swelling.” The old healer replied, and Susan’s shoulders sagged in resignation. She could see there was no polite way of refuse the woman’s offer. What Susan wanted was a little more time alone with Caspian, but she couldn’t deny the fact that the pain in her ankle had started to grow more prominently, and that medical attention maybe wasn’t such a bad idea.

She smiled at Caspian as she handed him his sword back. “My ride has arrived.” Caspian nodded as he took the sword and sheathed it. He walked her to the spare hose, and Susan made an effort not to wince when she had to push herself up on her sore foot. Tugging on the reins, Susan made the horse turn around, but didn’t quite leave just yet. “Caspian, do you reckon Peter and Edmund will arrive tomorrow?”

Caspian looked doubtful. “With the weather of the last few days, I doubt their ship has had enough wind in it’s sails to arrive that fast. In a fortnight, maybe.” Susan smiled in satisfaction. Maybe another day without the company of her brothers wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Caspian might have realised what she was thinking, because his face suddenly broke into a grin. “Maybe we could practise again tomorrow? To perfect your swing?”

Susan’s eyes twinkled when she spurred her horse into movement, not even noticing her ankle this time. “I would like that very much.”

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-07-01T22:12:12Z

Title: Crossing Borders
Author: maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: 'The Chronicles of Narnia' were created and written by C. S. Lewis. I do not own anything you might recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Prince Caspian and the Pevensies continue their life after their farewell, but none of them can stop dwelling on the past. The, Caspian makes a decision; if she can't come to him, then he'll have to find her. Movie-verse. Not beta-ed. Banner by elliania

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 /

How do you link when both LJcuts and hyperlynks won'r work? You send everyone to read the chapter at susancaspian... And then you pummel the shit out of LJ...

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-06-23T19:53:30Z

Title: Crossing Borders
Author maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian movie-verse
Pairing: Caspian/Susan
Rating: Fiction rated K
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia were created and written by C. S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Prince Caspian and the Pevensies continue their life after their farewell, but none of them can stop dwelling on the past.Then Caspian makes a decision; If she can't come to him, then he'll have to find her. Movie-verse. Not beta-ed.

Chapter 1: The Horn and the Tree
Chapter 2: The Crown of Narnia
Chapter 3: The Shadows Behind the Tree
Chapter 4: Relapse
Chapter 5: Failure
Chapter 6: The Beast Behind the Bush
Chapter 7: The House and the Woman
Chapter 8: Progress with Setbacks

(Chapter 9: Visiting Finchley)

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-06-19T22:41:22Z

Fanfic: Silver and White

2008-06-16T21:28:31Z

Title: Silver and White
Author: maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Challenge / prompt: Response to the third Weekly Drabble Challenge. Prompt: White
Genre: Romance
Wordcount: 1300+
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: 'The Chronicles of Narnia' were created and written by C. S. Lewis. I do not own anything you might recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Caspian and Susan look out over Narnia on a beautiful winter day. Yes, I'm aware of the fact it's summer. Blame the muse. ^_^

(Silver and White)

Fanfic: Susan, the Gentle

2008-06-11T23:33:46Z

Title: Susan, the Gentle
Author:</a></b></a>maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Challenge / prompt: -
Genre: Angst/Romance
Wordcount: 1400+
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: 'The Chronicles of Narnia' were created and written by C. S. Lewis. I do not own anything you might recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Caspian goes to Susan for forgiveness after their close encounter with Jadis and finds out exactly why she's called 'the Gentle'. Companion-piece to 'Not Exactly A Feast'. One-shot. Movie-verse

(Susan, the Gentle)

Fanfic: Battle of the Horn

2008-06-09T10:50:05Z

Title: Battle of the Horn
Author:maaike_fluffy
Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Susan/Caspian
Challenge / prompt: Response to Drabble Challenge #2: War
Genre: Action/ Adventure
Wordcount: 796
Rating: PG-13 (for graphic violence)
Disclaimer: 'The Chronicles of Narnia' were created and written by C. S. Lewis. I do not own anything you might recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: A take-out from the battle at Aslan's How. Susan and Caspian find themselves fully involved in the war. Spoilers for Prince Caspian. Movie-verse. Not beta-ed.

(Battle of the Horn)

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-06-07T22:58:02Z

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-06-04T10:12:20Z

Yes, another Narnia-fic

2008-06-03T08:04:22Z

Sorry to spam you lot with Narnia fics these days. I'm afraid I am as obsessed with that fandoms as ancarettis with Iron Man. *lol*. I promis you I can still think about important things, such as Real Life (which is going well, nothing interesting), and supes_mv_awards. Since The f-pages have been spammed with plugging these past few days I will not tell you to go there and nominate! (You must, though. *pokes*)

EDIT: Why, oh why does LJ insist on these strange formatting problems? Did I SAY I wanted everything capitalized? No!

EDIT # 37446384: Screw it. The fic is here.

EDIT #37446385 : *headdesk* *stomps foot* *pulls hair* *throws self off cliff*

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-06-02T17:58:45Z

( Chapter 4: Relapse )

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-05-31T18:32:37Z

The shadows behind the tree

“Caspian!”

The voice was hardly more than a whisper carried on the wind, but Caspian heard it quite clearly. His footsteps echoed across the stone walls as he hurried through the Entrance hall, wanting to keep up with the whisper.

“Caspian!”

The cold wind he had expected did not hit his face as he walked through the large doors. Instead a light, warm breeze gently caressed his face, and it smelled faintly of freshly cut grass. Caspian was surprised to see that the trees were no longer yellow and red, but green. He halted in his tracks to consider this odd fact, but another whisper lead him away, across the flowerbed and to the sea.

Caspian knew where he was going, having walked the path numerous times before. He tripped and stumbled in his haste to climb the hill to the tree. There, as if he’d never left, stood Aslan. But the whisper, Caspian knew, had not been his. Then he noticed the color of the leaves—red, as if time had passed for this tree only—and Caspian realized he was dreaming again.

“Caspian!”

Shadows with blurry edges moved behind the portal in the tree trunk, and Caspian walked closer. This was where he usually woke up, right before he could take a better look at the shapes. But he was still here now. Anticipation growing in the pit of his stomach, Caspian crept closer, closer than he had ever gone before, until he was standing right next to it. He put his hand on the bark to feel where it split in two, but pulled his hand back when he felt the bark was warm. Alive.

“Caspian!”

Caspian blinked. The shadows were really close now, and clearer than he had ever seen them before. Caspian could see their dull colors blurring against a blinding white background. Shielding his eyes, Caspian took a closer look at the shape nearest him. It was red with brown, and it was moving around, but never leaving Caspian’s sight. As he watched, the shadow gradually became clearer, taking the shape of a human being. A faint sound of laughter reached his ears, as soft as the whispering had been. Caspian recognized this laugh; he had heard it often. Queen Lucy!

As soon as he realised who the laughter belonged to, Lucy’s shape immediately became clear. She was wearing a red cloak over her green dress, and a few strands of hair were tied at the back of her head, keeping her long hair out of her face. Most of all, Caspian noticed the enthusiastic broad smile on her face as she ran towards a second shadow. Caspian looked away from Lucy to focus his attention on this new shadow, which quickly took shape of High King Peter. Caspian watched as Peter lifted his youngest sister up and twirled her through the air.

Now that the white background was no longer blinding, it became easier for Caspian to identify the shapes. Edmund stood a little further back, a hand on the hilt of his sword, watching his brother and sister with a contented smile. Caspian’s eyes lingered momentarily on the crown of the Just King, but they quickly strayed to look for the fourth shape. He found her standing a few feet away from Edmund, but unlike her younger brother, Queen Susan didn’t look at Lucy or Peter. Instead she looked directly at Caspian, and smiled when her eyes found his. Caspian’s insides burned with desire to step through and join the Kings and Queens of Old. Then he realized again that he was merely dreaming. It couldn’t hurt to step through in his dreams, could it? He wouldn’t abandon his people if this was all merely a dream. Caspian hesitated, and looked behind him to where Aslan still stood silently. The Great Lion gave Caspian the tiniest of nods. Caspian quickly turned his attention on the Kings and Queens again, and was relieved they were all still there. High King Peter had put Lucy back on the ground and put an arm around her. Queen Susan hadn’t moved, but looked at Caspian with the same warm and inviting smile. Caspian made up his mind. Without looking over his shoulder one last time, he walked through the doorway. Susan’s face broke into a wide grin and then disappeared, leaving Caspian to suddenly stare at the dark ceiling.

Caspian blinked a few times to clear his mind. He was lying in his four poster bed, his covers twisted around his legs. He’d probably been tossing and turning for hours. Instead of feeling disappointed he’d woken up, he felt happy he’d come so far this time. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken him that long to wake up; he usually woke much sooner.

As he lay staring at the ceiling, the images of his dream faded and the wonder he felt gradually made way for frustration. He rubbed his face with his hands. What was he going to do about this? This, these dreams every night, his obsession with the tree… it couldn’t go on like this. It had been weeks since he’d had an uninterrupted night sleep, and his exhaustion was starting to affect him during the day. He had to do something…

Caspian knew from experience that it was no use trying to go back to sleep. Besides, it was almost dawn, if the birds outside were any indication. With a deep sigh, Caspian pushed the remaining images of his dream from his mind and got up to ready himself for a new day.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Caspian, what are you doing up this early?” Professor Cornelius sat at the dining table, enjoying an early breakfast. His silver-white hair was in disarray from sleep, but his keen eyes were clear as he observed Caspian.

“I could ask you the same.” Caspian sat down next to his old Professor, and several servants hurried over with a knife and silver plate.

“Old age, my dear King. I can’t sleep as easily as I used to, and I’m afraid my brief stay in Miraz’ cell did not improve matters.”
Caspian winced as he remembered finding the crumpled form of his beloved Professor on the cold floor of the dungeon. But Professor Cornelius wasn’t asking for pity; he was long at Caspian expectantly, awaiting a reply. Caspian briefly considered confiding in the Professor and tell him all about the tree and the dreams that were haunting him at night, but thought better of it. “I seem to have trouble sleeping lately.” He said instead. After all, it wasn’t a lie.

“So I noticed.” The Professor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “If the bags under your eyes grow any larger, you are in danger of tripping over them.”

Caspian smiled, but did not reply. He grabbed a slice of toast from the basket on the table, and began buttering it.
“Professor?” Caspian ventured after they had been eating in silence for a while.

“Yes, Caspian?”

“What can you tell me about the lives of the Kings and Queens of Old? Of their other world?”

Professor Cornelius froze for a moment and looked sharply at Caspian, who waiting for an answer with baited breath. “Hmm. Follow me.” Professor Cornelius grunted finally and rose slowly from his seat. He began to talk as the walked the hall towards to Professor’s study. “Not much is known about the lives of the Kings and Queens outside Narnia, and the other world is still very much a mystery. I ought to have used the opportunity to ask them about it.” He added with obvious regret. “All we know for certain is that a portal from our world to theirs opens occasionally. Where or when cannot be predicted, except perhaps by Aslan.

Caspian pushed open the door to Professor Cornelius’ study, and held it open for the Professor before he entered himself.
“An even bigger mystery than the portal is that of the passing of time. Given the numerous years they have ruled over Narnia, the many ages they have been away, and their youthful appearances when they returned, their passing of time must differ greatly from ours.” Professor Cornelius walked towards his impressive collection of books on the shelves, and began to trace the covers with his index. “As for the Kings and Queens themselves,” he continued, “we can be fairly certain about the surname they used in their own world. Ah!”

Having located the particular book he had been searching for, Professor Cornelius pulled if off the shelf. It looked like a bundle of loose papers, held together by a leather cover of fading green. Caspian could briefly make out the picture of four crowns—two of them silver, two of them golden—before the Professor laid it down on his desk and lit a candle.

“The name Pevensie appears many time in historical documents. Twice in a letter written by faun Tumnus, said to be a close personal friend of the Valiant Queen. The name also appeared on a letter written by King Edmund the Just himself. This letter is priceless now, of course. I am very fortunate to have obtained it.” The Professor spoke as he flipped the pages in the bundle.

Pevensie. Caspian thought. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy Pevensie. The name had a certain ring to it. It fit them. They seemed more real somehow, more human, now that he knew their name.

“Now, how large this other world is, remains unknown. For all we know it could be larger than ours. Also, it seems clear that this world has a technology that exceeds our own. The silver flameless torch of King Edmund was most certainly not magical, yet unlike anything I have ever seen before. There we are…” Professor Cornelius put his small round glasses on the bridge of his nose and squinted at the parchment he had extracted from the bundle. “There is great speculation about the exact location of the Kings and Queens’ home. Most Narnians believe that they lived in War Drobe, a city in the land of Spare Oom.” The Professor looked up from his paper. “The name Finchley also appears, though that might simply be the name of their residence.”

Caspian repeated the strange names to himself several times, and tried not to look at Professor Cornelius, who was looking at him with a piercing look that seemed to look right through him.

“The stories of the Kings and Queens are fascinating, Caspian, and they are worthy of studying for they hold much greatness and wisdom. But they were the Kings and Queens of Old. Of Old, Caspian. You are the new King.”

The Professor’s message was unmistakable, and Caspian nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Fanfic : Crossing Borders

2008-05-30T13:00:30Z

Disclaimer: Full rights of The Chronicles of Narnia and it's characters lie with C.S. Lewis and Disney. No copyright infringement is intended.

Music to match: This is Home, by Switchfoot (Original Soundtrack Prince Caspian)

The Crown of Narnia

King Caspian did not have time to walk by the cave or the tree the next day, or the day after. Though the war was over now, neither the Narnians nor the Telmarines had gotten used to the recent changes yet, and the war was still fresh in everyone’s mind. Caspian spent a great deal of his time as King travelling his kingdom; talking to his people and soothing the small arguments that appeared everywhere. It was not realistic to assume that the Telmarines would willingly share their land with beings that they were taught to fear and despise. The Narnians in their turn, couldn’t easily forgive the Telmarines for chasing them in the woods and killing so many of their kin. Though Narnians and Telmarines lived separately for the most part, small conflicts would arise whenever they came in contact. Caspian’s charm and charisma, which had saved him at his first encounter with a Narnian gathering, was a great asset in settling these disputes. And though Caspian felt it would take many years still before the peace in his lands would be restored completely, he could see tolerance and acceptance among his people starting to grow. Only yesterday he had seen a Narnian lynx allowing a Telmarine child to stroke his fur, and the image served as a hopeful beacon for the future.

Pushing the curtains over the entrance aside, Caspian entered his richly decorated and furnished tent. Red banners with lions and golden ornaments were prominent in his temporary stay, an idea of Reepicheep no doubt, but Caspian only had eyes for the comfortable and inviting recliner that stood in the corner. Allowing himself to sink back between its soft cushions, Caspian let his head fall back and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“I do hope you weren’t planning on sleeping, Caspian. They’re waiting for you at the banquet.”

The voice took Caspian by surprise, but he recognised it immediately. He smiled and opened a single eye to look at his professor. “Five more minutes?” Professor Cornelius chuckled at their running joke but grunted as he sat down in a nearby seat, his age starting to affect his joints.

“Nobody said being a King was easy.” Professor Cornelius looked over his glasses at his former pupil, who sat up straighter.

“My uncle made it look so easy.” Caspian said, rubbing his eyes.

“Ah yes.” The professor nodded. “But your uncle wasn’t particularly famous for his interest in the people.” He groaned again as he shifted in his seat. “Then again, even your uncle was often a busy man. I seemed to remember it was very hard to get a hold of him.”

Caspian didn’t reply, but nodded and looked around the room with unseeing eyes. He remembered the look in the eyes of King Peter. Despite his youthful appearance, those eyes showed how hard his life had been, and what tough decisions he had made. No, Caspian knew it wasn’t easy to be King.

“For what it’s worth, my young King, I think you are doing exceptionally well. You have already won the love, respect and loyalty of your people in this short time. Remember that the effort that you put in them will be repaid a thousand fold.”

Caspian smiled at the encouragements of his former mentor. Of all people, he valued the opinion on Professor Cornelius above all. I should make him my new counsellor. “Thank you.” Caspian rose from his seat, ready now to face the banquet.

“Just a minute, Caspian.” Professor Cornelius rose from his seat slowly, and Caspian had to grip his elbow to steady him as he got to his feet. “You will be needing this.” The Professor picked up the crown that lay on the end table and handed it to Caspian. “Your people are expecting their King.”

Caspian took the crown and looked at it in his hands. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was worthy of wearing it, but he wouldn’t let his people down. Placing the crown upon his head, Caspian swept out of the tent.

That night King Caspian slept uneasily. He tossed and turned in his sleep for hours, causing the concerned guard outside the tent to step in several times to make sure his liege was still okay. When Caspian finally started awake in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting, he could not remember what his dream had been about. Only one image stood clearly in his memory; that of a large tree with a green crown and a trunk split in two.

Feeling wide awake and sticky from sweat, Caspian threw his covers off him, put on his leather boots and draped his mantel over his nightgown. Pushing the curtains aside, Caspian exited the tent. The guard, who had been dozing off in a chair next to the entrance, jerked awake and, upon seeing King Caspian, jumped up.

“My Lord! I did not expect to see you at this hour! Is any way in which I can assist-” The guard seemed flustered and somewhat scared at being caught asleep outside the tent of his King, and Caspian wondered briefly what his uncle had done to his guards to inspire such fear in them.

Caspian then raised his hand and, at second thought, smiled at the guard to reassure him. “Nothing is amiss, I simply desired a midnight stroll.” With that he left the guard, who visibly relaxed, and walked by the edge of the forest. The air, which had been cool during the day, had turned cold. It was a nice change after his clammy bed, but the sweat on his skin caused him to cool off a little too quickly. Caspian tucked his mantle around him more securely as he walked on. The grass was long and covered in dew, sweeping at his feet and soaking his boots and the hem of his mantle, but Caspian soon left the grass for stone as he climbed the large flat rock on the top of the hill. From here Caspian could look out over the majority of his kingdom. Summer had passed and the arrival of autumn had coloured the leaves of the forest a deep red that not even the pale blue light of the moon could hide. The stunning sight captivated Caspian, and he marvelled at the thought that this beautiful land fell under his reign. He made a silent vow to rule this land to the best of his ability.

After sitting under the starry sky for several minutes, his thoughts strayed to his latest dream. In his mind’s eye, Caspian could see the tall tree again, it’s branches reaching to the sky, it’s trunk split in two, and—Caspian was certain he had seen them—shadows flitting behind the mysterious doorway. How can I start looking forwards? He asked himself. When I look over my shoulder at night? He was yearning to drive Destrier home, to where the tree really stood, but once again he fought temptation. King of Narnia… He told himself. Ruler of the Lone Islands. Keeper of peace between Narnians and Telmarines. Caspian sat on the rock for hours, lost in thought, until the chilly wind became too much and he trudged back to his tent, shivering.

Susan’s hair whipped around her face as wind blew in her back, almost urging her forwards. The four siblings silently walked the way home from the train station. Even Lucy was uncharacteristically subdued. Edmund seemed to stare at the straight rows of houses lining the streets, as if he was amazed such buildings existed. No such houses could be found in Narnia. Narnians slept in holes, hollow trees or caves. Most of the Telmarines stayed in cottages, scattered on the hillside. Nothing like here.

Peter had put a protective arm around his youngest sister, though there was no danger to shield her from. Not here. Still Lucy leaned into him, grateful for the support of two strong arms. Momentarily Susan wished for two strong arms to hold her, but not Peter’s.

“We’re here. We’re home.” Edmunds voice broke the long silence, an Susan looked up to see he was right. A very familiar and solid brick house, almost indistinguishable from the other houses in the street, had waited for them to return. Home? Is this home? Susan put her hand in the right pocket of her coat, and her fingers found the cold metal of her steel keyring, right where she’d put it before they’d left. Walking the path to the front door, Susan slid the key in the lock and twisted. A soft click was heard and Susan pushed the door open. Yes, this is home.

Narnia fic

2008-05-28T18:51:15Z

Well, some of you were interested, so here it is:

The Horn and the Tree

The soup looked delicious as always. Being the King of Narnia, Caspian had himself well looked after. Three of the best cooks in Narnia jumped at every occasion to prepare lavish banquets for their King whenever he had guests to entertain. But on evenings like this, when he sat alone in the dining hall, Caspian had no need for exceptional meals. Trufflehunters’ soup, according to the Badger’s family recipe, seemed as delicious to Caspian as a richly stuffed turkey; it reminded him of the day his old life had changed forever. The day he had blown the horn. The day he had called them. Her.

The ivory horn hung from his belt, and Caspian let his fingers travel from the rich carvings at the mouthpiece, to the sharp fangs of the lion’s roar, impressive even in silence. Then he pulled away his hand again. So many times he had thought of it; to blow the horn again. To call them back; the Kings and Queens of old. Most specifically the Gentle Queen. But Caspian never did. The words of both his beloved professor and Queen Susan herself stayed his hand. “Do not use it, except at your greatest need.” “I’m afraid that’s just it. We’re not coming back.” Caspian listened to the Queen's voice in his head, over and over, until her words were “I’m not coming back.” And Caspian knew the words were true. She wasn’t coming back. Not even if he blew the horn. Still, the horn remained a temptation. A temptation that he fought every single day since they’d left. A temptation that he chose to carry around with him everywhere; the only reminder of Queen Susan he had left.

From the corner of his eye, Caspian saw Trufflehunter enter the room. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, Caspian shook himself out of his daydream and continued eating his soup. By the time the caring badger had reached the table, the cup was empty and Trufflehunter seemed satisfied.

“I’m going to take a walk. I will be back before nightfall.” Caspian broke the silence, and Trufflehunter nodded and proceeded to clear the table.

Caspian rose stiffly and strode out of the dining hall, Queen Susan’s horn bouncing off his leg with every step he took. If he had looked back, he would have seen Truffelhunter watching him leave, a concerned look on the badger’s face.

Caspian’s stroll took him through the Castle flower gardens and down the sandy slope that took him to the beach. This is where they had arrived the second time, according to Lucy. Caspian smiled as he remembered the young Queen’s enthusiasm when she told him all about the train station that had unexepectedly morphed into a cave. Though Caspian failed to understand what a train station was, the story fascinated him and he walked through the white sand towards the cave, half expecting to see a wondrous world where large carriages without horses transported many people across the tracks. But the cave was empty. Nothing was to be found there, no proof of their appearance had lingered. Footsteps had been wiped away by the wind and the sea. Caspian trailed the stone wall with his fingers. Could there really be a different world behind this rock? A world where time went by slower, where things were so very different from here? It seemed impossible, and yet it was true. Caspian himself had seen the age, wisdom and experience in the eyes of the youthful Kings and Queens.

Leaving the cave, Caspian walked up a grassy hill until he reached his final destination. The tree, looking out over the sea, it’s trunk forming an invisible portal to an invisible world. Seven people had disappeared in mid air a little over four months ago. The cool wind blew on his face gently as Caspian raised his head to look at it’s mighty green crown. What would happen if he walked through? Would he disappear in mid air like the other had done; only to appear in a new world? Caspian curiously took a step closer to the tree trunk, standing on the very spot where the Great Lion had stood that day. A temptation, stronger even than the ivory horn, drew him nearer. What would happen to Narnia if he stepped through? Narnia would have no king. How much time would pass while he was there? Would the Narnians be able to fend for themselves? Or would the magical Kingdom fall to despair, like it had done when the Kings and Queens of Old left Narnia for the first time? “Narnia was never right, except when a Son of Adam was King.” King Edmund had told him of that day; the day they had stumbled on the portal back home by accident, never intending to leave Narnia behind, and not able to return until they were called. They hadn’t meant to abandon Narnia. Could Caspian abandon Narnia? Could he knowingly leave behind his people? Caspian sighed. He knew the answer. He was King of Narnia, ruler of the Lone Islands, keeper of the peace between the Narnians and the Telmarines. He could not abandon his people.

Caspian did not look back at the tree as he slowly made his way back to the castle, which was colored crimson in the light of the setting sun.

Susan examined her clothes. Everything was still the same. They were dressed impeccable, like they had been when they’d left. Peter’s blouse was no longer torn, but neatly tucked into his pants. Unlike their clothes, the Pevensie children had changed a lot. All three of her siblings looked around them confused, lost now that they were suddenly back in their own world. A world where there were no talking lions, where there were no grand sword fights. Where they weren’t Kings and Queens, but simply four orphaned siblings making their way back home after a school day.

Susan closed her eyes and tuned out the noise made by the train carriage. Images of a beautiful wilderness swam before here eyes; memories that were only a few minutes old for her, but weeks old for Narnia. Susan wondered briefly how much time had passed in Narnia since they had left. Considering the fact 1300 years Narnian years had passed while they had been gone only a year, it was possible to calculate… Then again, Susan had a feeling time in Narnia wasn’t predictable enough to be calculated like that. Pushing away her confusing time-related thoughts, Susan focussed instead on the images that swam before her. Magnificent moss covered trees, blossom dancing on the wind, fighting mice, a handsome face with kind eyes…

Susan blinked and the face disappeared. She had worked hard not to dwell on Caspian. She had not allowed herself to feel, first because she was too proud to acknowledge such feelings, later because there were more pressing matters that required her full attention, and finally because she knew that their time of departure was arriving soon. But was there any harm now? Susan looked at her siblings. All three of them were staring into space, lost in a world that now only existed in their memories. Susan closed her eyes, and warmth filled her when Caspian’s face greeted her. He pulled up a corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin, as if he was happy not to be pushed from her memories for once. Susan drank in the details of his appearance; his dark hair that fell casually around his face, the shape of his nose, the warmth of his eyes… She saw him more clearly now than she had ever seen him before, mainly because she now allowed herself to see him properly. She could even recall the slight accent that he spoke with, the smell of him she had caught when she’d sat on the back of his horse, the faint pressure of his lips on hers.

Susan bit her lip, recalling each memory as well as she could, and wishing she was still there. She had been ready to leave, yes. But not wiling.

The face faded when Susan suddenly felt a small tug on her sleeve. Forcing her eyes open, she saw Lucy looking at her with eyes that held more depth and understanding than could be expected of a twelve year old girl. “Susan, are you and Peter really not going back gain?”

Susan’s mouth formed a small smile, and she tried to keep the regret out of her voice as she replied. “I don’t think so, Lucy. I think my time for adventures has passed.”

Pssst, Caroline! It's Caspian/Susan. Read at own risk! ;-P

Supermen - Chapter 50 : Breakthrough

2008-03-09T10:03:00Z

Title: Supermen
Author: Maaike (maaike_fluffy)
Random: Superman
Pairing: Lois/Clark
Rating: Fiction rated T
Disclaimer: I own no rights to Superman. I make nothing of all this, it's just for fun.
Summary: Lois' almost perfect life is turned upside down. She needs the help of the super men in her life to get it back on track. Angst. Fluff. Mystery. Clois. Daddy!Clark. Warning: spoilers for SR, character death.

A/N: I know what you’re thinking. “What? She doesn’t update for three full months and now suddenly we have two in one week? What’s gotten into her?” Told you I knew what you were thinking…

Yeah, Supermen got me back good. I promised several of you this chapter would be uploaded somewhere this week, and I wouldn’t dare break my promise.

The usual thanks go to: bluecatdevil, Kaimi Hoshi, Shannon K, beauty7890102, Magick not Magic, twrecks (especially you, you made me very happy when I woke up and checked my inbox!), Elliania (Kat! *smooch*), superlc529, Beatrice Otter, weirdIT, mistressbabette51 and andrea.

Then I want so say a heartfelt thank you to my fantastic beta and wonderful friend Abby.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Chapter 50 “Breakthrough”

Despite Clark’s conversation with Jimmy, he still beat Lois to the phone booth on the corner of 24th and Main. The usual traffic jam and a truck that had lost most of its load had slowed her down considerably. Clark could hear her cussing from afar, and he grinned. She’ll get through.

The corner of 24th and Main didn’t look like a very cheerful place to work. Like everywhere in Suicide Slum, the streets looked shabby. Laundry hung drying on lines tied between the balconies on the upper floors. More than a few broken windows were nailed shut with wooden planks, and it stank of exhaust fumes and garbage. Still, the women in their short skirts managed to smile and wave cheerfully at every male that passed by in car or on foot.

The phone booth itself was perfectly ordinary; it was a large square blue cabin that was open at the bottom. Someone had scribbled ‘Laura was here’ in black markercross the instructions. A little to the left Clark read a phone number in blue ink. It was a long shot, but Clark grabbed his cell and dialed the number. The characteristic beeps told him the number was disconnected, and he snapped his cell shut when a sudden hand on his shoulder startled him.

“Hello handsome. Can I help you with something?” The woman in front of him had long, curly, dirty blonde hair that fell to her back. Her face was pretty, but covered in thick layers of make-up. She was chewing gum and smiling in such a way Clark had no doubt about her business there. He automatically took a step back and pushed up his glasses. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The woman continued to smile, and didn’t seem to be sorry at all.

“N-no, it’s fine, Miss. I-I just wasn’t expecting…” Clark stammered without need to make it sound convincing. “I was looking for someone, a-a woman-”

“Well, you found me, sugar.” She took a step closer and put her hand on his chest. Clark backed against the phone booth.

“N-no, I mean… Miss, I don’t need...” Clark tried to think of a way to get away from this woman without getting closer to her first. Flying up wasn’t an option.

“You can call me Lisette. And there’s no reason to be nervous, sugar.” She raised a heavily pencilled eyebrow suggestively. “I can put you right at ease if you want.” Her breath smelled of cigarettes and mint; the same smell that sometimes hung around Lois, but the effect on this woman wasn’t quite the same.

“That’s a pretty one you got there, sister. Surely you aren’t going to keep him all to yourself?” A second woman came walking up to him. She had short, spiky, yellowish hair that had to have been bleached with peroxide. Unlike Lisette, who was still leaning close to him, this woman was wearing jeans. The way they clung to her legs, however, still left very little to the imagination.

Lisette retreated slightly when the new woman approached, and Clark seized the opportunity to step away from her and the phone booth.

“This is my friend CC. CC, I want you to meet… er…” Lisette tilted her head a little to the side questioningly.

“Er… Clark. Clark Kent.” He nodded slightly. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Well, aren’t you just adorable?” Clark saw the new woman was about to step closer to him, and he took a precautionary step back.

“Actually, I was looking for someone… a woman…”

“Hmmm?”

“Who made frequent phone calls from this phone booth.”

“Oh.” The woman called CC halted when she realised he wasn’t going to need her services, and she crossed her arms. “Well, lots of people use that phone, darlin’.”

“I know, but this woman made calls here daily. I was hoping one of you might have seen her? Her name is Kathy.” The sudden changes this simple question caused were remarkable.

“Kathy?” Lisette said sharply, her overly friendly attitude gone. “Why are you looking for her?”

“Well…” Clark pushed his glasses a little further, glad that the conversation was finally headed in the right direction. “I was hoping she might be able to tell me something about a friend of hers. Earl Basinger, maybe she mentioned…” Clark stopped talking when he caught the look the two women shared briefly. “Do you know where Kathy is?”

“No.” CC said decidedly. “She stopped showing up a year ago. No one knows where she went.”

“Stopped showing…” Clark repeated confused. “You mean she worked here? She’s a…-”

“A whore. Yes, like the rest of us.” From the corner of his eye Clark could see Lisette walking back to the other women on the pavement. He took a quick step closer when he saw CC starting to turn away too.

“That’s not what I wanted to- Hey, wait! Can’t you help me find her?”

CC merely shook her head and walked away. Lisette was now talking to the other women, and they were shooting him angry looks. Clark didn’t need his superhearing to know that she was telling them not to approach him. Dejected, Clark shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and leaned against the phone booth, waiting for Lois to arrive.

So, Kathy was a hooker. That was another setback. Clark remembered Pete and Martin from Stanford & Young telling him he’d had arguments with his fiancée before he disappeared. No wonder Earl didn’t mention Kathy; very little women would be understanding if their fiancées ran off to prostitutes. Then Clark remembered something else; Lois’ conversation with Inspector Henderson earlier today. It would also explain the weekly expenses of 300 dollars.

Clark looked up when he heard a familiar heartbeat approach, and his spirits automatically lifted. He’d looked up in time to see Lois’ SUV swerve around a corner. He smiled and walked to the parking lot where she pulled up next to him.

Clark leaned against a streetlamp and tapped his watch. “Took you long enough,” he told her, and Lois glared at him.

“Don’t get started with me, Fly Boy.” Clark grinned as she pushed past him to grab her purse and voice recorder from the back seat before stalking off towards the phone booth. “So, what did you find out?”

Clark easily caught up with her. “I scanned the phone for prints, but there are so many smudges there is no way to find out which ones are Kathy’s. As for Kathy herself; she works here.”

Lois halted in her tracks. “She works here? As in, she’s a hooker?”

Clark turned around to face her and nodded.

“Damn!”

“So the phone calls and the cash withdrawals might not even mean anything. However, Kathy stopped showing up at ‘work’ a year ago. The women I talked to couldn’t—or wouldn’t-” he added darkly, “tell me where she is.”

At the mention of the other women, Lois looked over Clark’s shoulder. “Why are they all looking at you like that?”

Clark looked behind him; several scarcely dressed women were huddled together, eyeing him suspiciously. “They didn’t like my questions about Kathy too much.” He shrugged.

“You mean you got rejected by a hooker?” Lois face broke into a grin. “That’s gotta hurt!”

Clark chuckled. “I think I’ll die friendless and alone.”

“No, you won’t,” Lois said, her voice suddenly softer. This simple line warmed Clark and he smiled at her fondly. He was just about to raise his hand and stroke her hair when, for the third time that afternoon, an unfamiliar female voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me.” Lois pulled away from Clark immediately. “Are you that reporter? Lois Lane?”

Lois nodded, and Clark turned around to look at the new woman. Her clothes told him she was a prostitute too, but it was her face that shocked Clark. She was so young! She couldn’t be eighteen yet.

“I heard you were looking for Kathy…”

“We are.” Lois exchanged a significant look with Clark. “Can you tell us about her?”

The girl looked over her shoulder and Clark followed her eyes. The women, including CC and Lisette, were looking at her disapprovingly. Thankfully, she girl seemed to have made up her mind because she nodded. “I can. For a coffee and a pack of cigarettes.”

Lois reached in the right pocket of her coat and tossed the girl a pack of Malboro Reds. “Let’s go!”

The girl didn’t immediately follow and looked at Clark hesitantly. “Is he coming too?”

“Yes, he is.” Lois grinned at Clark. “He’s paying.”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It took a while for the girl to relax enough to start talking. She had both hands clasped firmly around her mug of coffee and looked out of the window for several minutes before she started.

“My name is Charlene. Kathy was my partner, and a good friend.”

“Partner?” Lois repeated.

“Yeah, we all have one. You have to look out for each other out there, you know. We write down the licence plates of the cars, check in when they’re gone a long time… that sort of things. Kathy is a really nice person, she always had time for me. Her situation wasn’t easy you know, she’s got a little girl to take care of on her own. Then again, none of us have easy lives…” Charlene trailed off and took a sip from her coffee. “She let me live in her house for a few weeks when I got here, just so I’d have somewhere to stay until I found a place of my own.”

“Do you know why she stopped showing up?” Lois asked, sipping from her own coffee.

Charlene put down her mug. “Not exactly. Over a year ago, maybe a year and a half, we were just working as usual when this man came up. Said he knew what had happened to her and he wanted to help. He even gave her money so she didn’t have to work the streets. Me and the girls, we told her it was a bad idea to take his money, no matter how hard she needed it. People don’t just give us money for free, you know. They always want something in return. For the amount of money that guy gave her, he was bound to demand something huge in return. But Kathy said he wasn’t like that.”

“Do you know who he was? Did she tell you his name?” Lois asked eagerly.

“Earl, she called him. She talked about him a lot; how sweet and helpful he was.” Clark shared a brief look with Lois at the mention of this name. Finally, we got something!

“What did you mean when you said that Earl knew what had happened to Kathy?”

“The same thing that happened to half the girls out there. Kathy came from Poland. She lived a poor life, and when she got pregnant she wanted to come here. To America, the land of all possibilities. She just wanted to be able to raise that kid properly, without having to worry about money. Of course, she couldn’t afford a plane ticket, so she found a guy to get here illegally. Those bastards promise a lot, but they never deliver. Instead of a good life, they had her work the streets for them.”

A surge of anger flared up inside Clark upon hearing this injustice. “Couldn’t she just run away?”

Charlene shook her head sadly. “They take away people’s passports before they get here. There is no going back. And they threaten to inform to cops if the women cause any trouble. Half of them live in fear of having their children taken away by the government and put away in foster care. That’s an even more effective threat than beating; those guys are built like trucks.”

Clark had seen a lot of the ugly side of humanity, but the cruelty of some people never ceased to shock him.

“Is that what happened to you too?” Lois asked, the expression on her face told Clark she was as affected by the girl’s story as he was.

“Me? No, I’m American. I ran away from home when I was sixteen, and I desperately needed money for an apartment. It was either this, or living on the streets. Take your pick. Like I said, Kathy took me in the first couple of weeks. She helped me a lot.”

“Couldn’t you just go back home? Finish school?”

“So I can go live with my drunk Dad and be raped every night? I don’t think so. This might not be the most ideal way to live, but at least I’m in control.”

Clark stared at her, shocked at the casual way in which she had said this. Like it was the most common thing in the world. Then he realised that stories like these probably were common to women like her. All of them must have a tragic past that had led them to this.

Charlene drained her cup of coffee as Lois and Clark tried to get past the shock. “Can I have another?”

Lois was the first to recover. She cleared her throat as Clark nodded wordlessly and raised his hand to signal the waitress. “Right. We drifted a little. You were telling us about Kathy.” Lois prompted.

“Yes. Kathy accepted the money and after a while she stopped showing up. I tried to find out what had happened, but when I got to her apartment it was abandoned. She didn’t answer her cell either. I wasn’t really worried because, you know, if you want to get out of this mess you’ll need to disappear completely. If they find you, you’ll be lucky if you can work at all. Since I didn’t hear anything about her, so I figured she successfully managed to get away.” Charlene paused when the waitress brought the new coffee and stayed silent until she was out of earshot. “I was happy for her. They came asking about her frequently. They knew I was a close friend of her. But they couldn’t have beat it out of me if they wanted; I have no idea where she is.” She looked at Clark. “That’s why the girls didn’t trust you, you know. Another guy coming to ask about Kathy… You’re kind of broad, you know.” Clark nodded and Charlene turned her attention back on Lois.

“When I saw you, I knew you were trying to help. I recognized you from the paper; Kathy had mentioned your name several times; she somehow got it in her head that you could solve the entire mess. That the organization would be exposed and that no women would be lured to America the same way she had been. She and Earl were planning on telling you everything.” Charlene shook her head. “Kathy always has been a little too trusty. I wanted to believe her, and for a moment I did. Until I heard about the body they found in the river…” Charlene’s coffee stood forgotten as she stared out of the window with unseeing eyes, worry apparent on her teenage face. “I know Earl helped Kathy hide. I know Earl is dead. And I can’t find a trace of Kathy.” She stopped staring out over the streets, and fixed her eyes on Lois instead. “Please, you have to find her. I don’t have to talk to her or see her, but I just need to know she’s OK. I need to know she got away safe.”

“Miss, we will do everything we can to track her down,” Clark reassured her, “Is there anything you can tell us that could help us find her?”

Charlene frowned. “You’ll be needing her real name; Katalina Balcerowicz. She’s got a little girl called Celina who’s about three years old. Kathy didn’t have a lot of money, but I know she’d do everything to get her girl to school.”

Clark thanked Charlene profusely for her cooperation as Lois grabbed her cell and dialled. “Henderson, it’s Lois Lane. I got something for you; we need to find a three year old Polish girl that attends nursery school. Her name is Celina Balcerowicz. Hmmm… Oh… ” Lois put her hand on the receiver and called over her shoulder at Clark; “How do you spell that?”

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Writing...

2008-03-09T00:11:20Z

OK, so I bribed the muse with chocolate (What? It's after midnight in Holland, it's technically Sunday!), and she finally started whispering fluffy things in my ear. In fact, I made a lot of progress on chapter 51, (Mind, a lot of progress for me; I'm a slow typer. *kicks language barrier*) making the word count for this chapter 2456 words. 2456 very fluffy words, I might add. I hope you won't all get into sugar shock after the previous couple of chapters. Then again, I do have a nickname to live up to... *wink*

I'm going to bed now. It's 1.08 am for me.
'Night all!

Writing...

2008-03-07T20:30:40Z

So, for the fourth time in a row I'm spending my evening typing away dutifully. The muse is cooperating, but slightly ambivalent. She's whispering this in my ear about the climax and the aftermath of the story, but is refusing to cooperate now that I'm trying to write a more fluffy, domestic chapter. *looks at muse* What? Aren't people allowed to be happy anymore?

~~*bribes muse with chocolat*~~
Scratch that, can't even have chocolate during Lent.

EDIT: Chapter 51 has 1649 words so far