Title: Second Self
Author: Circeniko
Rating: G
Fandom: Narnia
Summary: Lucy meets someone on Christmas Eve.

Lucy sat in front of the tree, feeling the brightly wrapped packages. It was Christmas Eve, and her parents and siblings had long since gone to bed. All but she and Edmund, who were determined to stay up till Christmas. But Edmund had dropped off a few minutes ago. He lay on the couch with his mouth open. She covered him in a blanket, thinking that when he was asleep he looked more like the nasty child he had been, rather than the wise young man he had become.

From behind her there was a whisper of sound and she turned to see the cat walking out from under the tree. Lucy sat back on her heels and addressed it.

"Do you think that any of those are for you?"

The cat ignored the question, licking her paws. Lucy sighed and turned back to Edmund. And suddenly there was a voice behind he, a finicky, delicate voice.

"There's a catnip mouse, I can smell it."

Lucy whirled around so fast that she had to steady herself with a hand on the floor to avoid falling over.

"Wha-what?" she stuttered.

The cat looked at her and said with irritation, "There will be a catnip mouse for me," she stood up and stretched, adding, "and perhaps a few balls." She walked away, and Lucy stared after her, unblinking.

What had happened was, she knew, impossible, but Lucy was a person who had seen many impossible things. What she was thinking was that the cat's mouth hadn't been moving when she spoke. Lucy had, of course, had experience with talking animals, but never in this world, and never in this manner. Was it possible that some aspect of Narnia existed here? That the animals could talk? But even in Narnia, not all of the animals could talk, and those that did spoke from their mouths. Still, if it was possible…

She heaved herself to her feet, hearing, as she did so, the clock strike twelve. She skidded into the kitchen on her stockings, slipping on the tile floor.

The cat's head was buried in her food dish, her tail twitching in enjoyment.

Lucy approached her cautiously and settled to the floor. She reached out a hand and carefully stroked her head, whispering as she did. "Can you talk to me, cat? Are you a magical creature?"

The cat raised its head, pushing into the touch and meowed.

Lucy immediately pulled back, and inexplicably burst into tears.

There was a light step behind her, and Edmund's gentle hands guiding her to her feet. She stumbled with him into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch. Her tears dried quickly, but she felt miserable, and wasn't quite sure why.

He didn't ask her why she was crying, only cocked his eyebrow at her in a patient expression that she had grown used to seeing on him.

She breathed deeply, and finally felt sure enough of her voice to say, "I thought that the cat spoke to me."

If he was surprised he didn't show it. "Is that why you were crying?"

"No—not exactly. I'm not sure why. It's just, it felt so much like Narnia, and then it was gone."

Edmund nodded slowly, and Lucy let out the breath she had been half holding. Edmund would understand her, would be the only one to understand her. Something of who they had been in Narnia existed in all of them, even here, but it was most evident in Edmund. Sometimes when she saw him in the corner of her eye she saw not a skinny adolescent, but a grave king with sad eyes. She often wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

"Perhaps it was Narnia."

"What?"

"Just a bit of Narnia that exists in this world at certain times."

She had enough of childhood still in her to be angry at this. "If you think that I'm crazy then go ahead and say it."

"I don't think that you're crazy, animals are supposed to speak on Christmas Eve."

"If the cat had actually spoken to me because it was Christmas Eve then she wouldn't have stopped, would she?"

He was smiling. "Look at the clock, Lu. It's Christmas."

And with a ripple of shock, Lucy realized that he was right. She turned disbelieving eyes to Edmund. "You really don't think that I imagined it."

"Of course not. We all long to see Narnia again, but if the gift of seeing it again, even a bit of it, were given, I have no doubt that it would be given to you."

"If it's a gift then it's a cruel one;" she was aware that she was being bitter, but she couldn't seem to help it, "it only makes me remember that I can't go back."

"Lucy," there was a stern authority in his voice that made her spine straighten, "you've been given a gift, don't be sad that you can't have it again, only delight in having had it at all." He smiled then and became boyish and irrepresible, a sparkle in his eye. "It's Christmas, now tell me what you thought of your gift."

At times it was impossible to refuse Edmund, and now was one of those times. She smiled in spite of herself and closed her eyes, remembering the first moment of shock and then fierce joy as she had heard the cat speak.

"I thought that something wonderful was happening. It felt like something was snapping into place that had been lost for a long time. Like there was another part of me, another self that I'd been seperated from for a long time, and I was finally getting her back."

She opened her eyes and saw Edmund looking at her thoughtfully. "I don't know how you do it," she confessed.

He looked startled, "Do what?"

"Keep both of them, all the time." At his look of puzzlement, she explained. "It's like you never lost what you had in Narnia."

"Oh, Lucy, none of us lost what we were in Narnia."

She started to object, but he raised his hand, and she subsided.

"Don't you think that you're different now? And if you can't see it in yourself, can't you see it in Susan and Peter? You can't tell me that they're like they were before."

"But I can't feel it, Edmund!" Her voice had a note of desperation in it. "For just a moment I could feel it, but I can't anymore."

"Then let me help you remember. Close your eyes."

She did as he said, and heard him clear his throat, then begin to speak.

"Do you remember that night at Cair Paravel?"

He spoke of their life in Narnia, the little things and the great things, of battles and temptations, victories and celebrations, and finally he spoke of Aslan, his golden mane and rolling voice.

"Whether you feel it or no, Lu, you've been touched by Aslan."

And as she opened her eyes, wiping away the liquid that had gathered there, she realized that he was right. There were still only one of her, but she could feel the shadow of the second brushing the edges of her mind, a promise waiting to be kept.

It was the best Christmas present that she'd been given in a long time.