Peter never expected to see you again. In his mind, you had been a memory for three long years—frozen in time, dead to him in every way that mattered. The image of you that once had been so vivid was now distorted, dulled by the harsh reality of grief.

He had gone through the process, moved through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally reached acceptance. Sort of.

Narnia was gone, that chapter of his life closed. The time there had moved on without him, and he'd told himself that you had too. That you were somewhere in that distant, magical realm, while he remained untouched by the Narnian passage of time. He tried to find peace in that, to convince himself that he needed to forget, to seek out new adventures, to grow. But the nagging sense of loss never left him, though he did his best to bury it beneath layers of rationality.

The moment Peter stepped through the swoosh of the subway, the frosty air of England gave way to the lush greenery of Narnia. It was as if he had never left—everything looked the same. The same ancient trees, the same whisper of the wind through the leaves—until he saw you. He stumbled backward, his hand reflexively reaching for the hilt of his sword that wasn't there.

Oh. He saw you do the same. Oh? Had you just got here the same time that he did, your human clothes said so. "Hi." He squeaked, feeling pathetically nervous. hi?!?