Chapter song: "Broken Together" by Casting Crowns

Peter's POV

"Peter will you set the drinks on the table, please? We are ready to eat."

He sat at the table with his Mum and Dad, his Mum was still speaking, "It is so nice to have you home for a weekend."

He heard the clicking of the front door and a familiar voice coming closer saying, "I'm sorry I'm late, classes ran over and..."

Peter stared in shock as April stopped in the doorway just as stunned as he.

"April, dear. Come in, I figured you got held up. Please, take a seat," said Helen.

Peter recovered his manners and instinctively snapped into King mode, "Yes...April, here." He stood and held the chair next to him out for her. He hated how formal he sounded, but his brain just wouldn't work. She was breathtakingly beautiful and he was having trouble breathing now that he was next to her.

"Thank you, Peter," she said graciously, regally, and he instantly saw the Queen in her once again.

She sat next to him and while he was less than a foot away, it was as if they were miles apart. She began making polite conversation with his parents. He was staring at his plate, numb and confused by the sensations that she was bringing up within him. The sight of her; the light smell of her perfume, orange blossoms and ginger that reminded him of her soap scent in Narnia; and, her light, but strained laugh that echoed of brighter times and happier days when he could make her laugh so easily were making him....feel. He looked closely at her. She looked thinner than before and pale. Was she taking care of herself?

His Dad asked him a question, and he had to repeat it. His father shot him a look of pity. Had his Mum planned this on purpose? Is that why Edmund had sent his letters to her a week ago and mentioned this visit? He should have felt flattered that his family liked her enough to plan this. But instead it annoyed him. It sounded like April had been in contact with his parents, making him feel like an outsider in his own family. He could take care of his own affairs without their meddling.

Something April said snapped him out of his reverie. "I didn't know you were teaching a class!" he blurted out.

She turned to him, making eye contact for the first time, and lifted an eyebrow.

"How could you know, Peter? You haven't spoken to me in weeks," she said archly.

Then she stood and said graciously, "Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie, thank you so much for the lovely meal, but I have forgotten that I promised to meet with some students this evening and I must be returning to campus."

She got up and took her dishes to the kitchen. Peter felt a sharp kick to his shin.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Go after her," his mother hissed, shooting him the 'do as I say, or you will live to regret it' look.

He sighed and pushed back his chair. He heard the front door click and had to run outside to catch her.

"April...wait."

"Why, Peter? What on earth could you have to say to me?"

She had stopped and soon he was standing in front of her and found he didn't have any words at all.

"That's what I thought!" she turned and starting walking, her heels clicking quickly on the pavement.

He caught up with her as the houses turned to storefronts. There were quite a few people out on this Friday evening and some were eyeing them curiously.

Lightly taking hold of her arm he said, "Can we talk about this please?" He pulled her into the doorway area of a closed shop.

"I don't see what there is to talk about. Your silence speaks louder than anything could. Your letters were nice, but you never meant for me to read them. And seeing you now, I feel dumb for ever having thought you really missed me."

"I did...do miss you," he fumbled.

She stared at him, searching for something, waiting for more, but still he couldn't think. The emotions swirling around in his heart were too much to take in.

She shook her head at him. "Obviously, you are still angry with me for being relieved about the baby and I'm sure you still blame yourself for his death, which angers me to no end. Therefore, we should just do ourselves a favor and walk away."

She was pulling a little pouch out of her purse and placing it in his hand. His fingers felt the relief of her rings through the velvet. He looked at her hand, it was bare. When had she stopped wearing his ring? He was shocked. He didn't realize it had come this far.

"You still don't have anything to say to me?" her eyes welled with tears and he saw the mask of cool regalness slip ever so slightly and knew she still cared about him. Did he care about her? Yes! His frozen heart screamed, but his head was befuddled. She was turning away.

"Wait, please," he managed, gently turning her around. "Please, don't go. I...can't think. Can we at least go back to the house and talk about this?"

She hesitated and he saw the war between anger and love raging inside of her.

"Please, just for a bit. Let me talk to you and then you can leave if you wish."

She looked unsure but then nodded and said she would call the school to cancel her meeting when they arrived back at his house. They walked in silence. He desperately used that time to try to make sense of his thoughts and emotions, as if preparing for a difficult negotiation. What was he going to say to her? She was right. He felt angry and guilty. He killed their child and she was okay with it. How could they come back from that? Somewhere inside he knew that his thinking was flawed, but it was hard to listen to his heart.

They reached the house and let themselves in. It was quiet. He motioned her to the sofa and he popped into the kitchen. A note on the counter caught his eye. His parents were at the Sander's playing cards. They had forgotten to tell him that they were going out of town in the morning for the following week.

He went back into the living room with feelings of trepidation at what was to come. She was perched on the edge of the couch and he started to pace. He had to start somewhere.

"Are you really angry with me?"

"Yes, Peter. You refuse to believe that you are not responsible for the miscarriage. As usual, you take all the weight on your shoulders and chastise yourself for not protecting those you care about, even when the weight is not yours to carry."

"It is though!"

His voice was louder than he wanted it to be and he worked hard to control his frustration. They had this argument before. Before he left Sway to go back to school, before he abandoned his wife to the dark pit of sadness and despair that he had seen her sinking into before he left. Before he slipped into a pit of his own. Guilt was terrible burden to bear.

"How can I protect you when you are away from me, and then when you won't let me?"

"I won't let you? Did you even bother to find out how I was doing? You didn't care Peter!"

"That's not true!" he shouted, "I lov...I did...I do care, but nothing I could have done would have helped. I couldn't take us back to Narnia, I couldn't bring the child back. So, why...?"

She jumped to her feet and interrupted him, "Because I needed you, Peter. Not Narnia, not our son, just you! And you allowed school and grief to absorb your time and attention, and in your guilt and anger you forgot about me. Well, I can forget about you too!"

She stood up and looked so regal it hurt his heart. His queen, his beautiful queen, he was chasing her away.

He forced his voice to be gentler, "No, I didn't forget! Did you read the whole journal that Edmund sent?"

He saw that she had by her face. He saw a bit of her anger seep away.

He continued, "I couldn't contact you. I didn't think you would want to see me. I didn't know how to reach out, I thought you didn't care. I never heard from you, so I assumed you didn't want me."

"Never heard from me? Peter! How can you say that, I wrote to you constantly!"

Peter dropped onto the couch and put his head in his hands.

"I never got them," he forced out.

"What?!"

"I never got them."

She sat beside him. "How could you not receive my letters? Peter, you have never lied to me but I think you are now. If you don't want me you just need to say so."

A sob caught in her throat and she rose, moving to the door. Silent tears were running down her face. He watched her closely. It could have been over if she had truly hardened her heart against him, but she couldn't, he knew that. She had loved him even before they had met. Because of her family history, the dryad turned human generations ago, the one who loved him back during his first time in Narnia. It was in her genes, her very nature to care for him.

He stood too. "I am not lying April. I didn't know you still cared. I am so angry with myself, I assumed you were too."

That thought and her tears finally started to melt the ice around his heart. He went over to her, knowing he needed to touch her. It had been so long his hands trembled as they reached for her and barely touched her waist. She slowly and very hesitantly came close to him, almost as if she wasn't sure she could trust him. That, more than anything broke off the final parts of ice around his heart. She had always trusted him. He had let things go too far. They would have a long road ahead of them.

"I do want you," he whispered.

She laid her head on his shoulder and the floodgates opened and she sobbed against him. His arms tightened around her and he kissed her hair by reflex.

He had to take the first steps to fix this. As she began to calm, he spoke. "I love you April. I am a pompous, arrogant fool to stay away from you. Regardless of whether you wrote, I should have been man enough to approach you. I want us to be together. I am not ready to lose you, which makes me selfish too."

She pulled back and smiled through her tears. "Pompous and arrogant mean the same thing you know."

He grinned weakly. "Yes, well...then, I am doubly prideful and woefully mistaken. I have been angry with you, and you with me. You are right about the guilt. I do feel responsible. I also know I need to forgive myself. I just can't! Will you forgive me?

"Peter...you...there is nothing to forgive..."

He pulled back his eyes boring into hers with a flash of anger. "In my mind, there is. Will you forgive me or not? We cannot continue if you harbor the least bit of resentment for my not protecting you as I should have."

She touched his cheek. "No, Peter, I do not blame you at all. And yes, if you want my forgiveness, you have it. But you are only a man, a great man and a king but there are some things even you cannot do."

He drew her close, "Thank you, love, that helps more than you know. Perhaps with your help I can let this go. I know you feel dreadfully hurt. We need to talk through all of this, if you want to make the effort."

She nodded and he led her back over to the couch. She took his hand.

"What is it that you can't forgive yourself for?"

He stared at her with wide eyes at her directness. She continued, "It is the pirate attack? The brute hitting me? The Captain stabbing you with his sword? Peter, those are all circumstances that you couldn't control."

He shook his head, but she refused to stop.

"No! Listen to me, you did protect me, time and time again while we were in Narnia. If you think about it, I am at fault too. I could have insisted on greater security, more patrols. We both knew the danger we were in, we just forgot."

Her voice grew soft and wistful. She was more beautiful to him than ever in that moment. He was mesmerized just watching her.

"Peter, we just got caught up in the bliss of being married, of being at peace in those last few weeks. It was so difficult while we were there. We needed that time of rest and joy. It is not your fault that it ended Peter. It is not your fault that we came back to our world. You have to let it go!"

Her eyes were boring into his, such a beautiful shade of green. He hardly knew when she started to blur and he felt wet on his cheeks. He felt her arms around him pulling him close.

"That's it, Peter. You need to let it out. I am here."

"It is my fault," he choked.

"No, my love, it is not. Forgive yourself!"

At those tender words of love the dam broke and he cried for the first time since they returned from Narnia. He barely heard her soft words of comfort and what sounded like prayers. He calmed and rested against her. She had moved them to where her back was against the sofa and he was almost cradled in her lap. He took a deep breath and his senses were filled with her scent and a peace settled around him. He sighed at the feeling of release and knew that part of his battle was won.

He felt soft fingers brushing away the hair from his forehead. Her tender touch was like a balm.

"Better now?" she questioned.

He nodded and she smiled down at him. Tracing his cheeks and lips her fingers felt like silk. She sighed and looked away.

"I was so angry because you closed yourself off. I hate it when you do that. I lost a huge piece of us this time. I am not sure I can take it again, Peter."

He sat up quickly at the resignation in her voice. And turned her cheek to face him. His voice was solid and sure. "I am so sorry April. I know apologies are only words. Let me show you that it will be different now. I know you don't trust me and I understand why. But stay with me. With your help I can be different."

She sighed and shook her head, "I don't know..."

"Look, I know we need to talk about...the baby, and we will. We will talk about it all, I promise. Let's rebuild what we had together. You are too precious for me to lose. I can see that now."

She bit her lip in indecision and his eyes went there immediately. The urge to kiss her swept through him like a wave, but he waited. Instead he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and ran his thumb over her cheek.

"Okay."

His smile was huge. In fact it felt strange to smile like that. It was like a warm wind had come to chase the dark clouds away. When her beautiful lips formed a radiant smile of her own he knew he was home. Not Narnia, not London, but simply with her...home.