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Fic : Original Suspicious Bastard (Narnia)

Title : Original Suspicious Bastard
Author : Gunbunny
Fandom : Narnia.
Pairing : none.
Rating : A bit of violence.
Summary : You'd think one Pevensie in the military was enough. (post-PC)
Disclaimer : Not mine. CS Lewis's.
Feedback : I accept burnt offerings and alcohol.
Archive : http://burntcopper.com/fic , anywhere else feel free.
Notes : Follows on from Judge his Reactions.

Malaya, 1951. The bit that the commando unit currently trudging through it are referring to as 'the arse end'. Doesn't help that the heavens opened an hour ago and drenched them to the skin.

"Raining again," O'Neill sighs. "Join the army, they said. Travel the world, they said. They didn't mention the rain being as bad as Belfast in the spring."

"It's warmer, Paddy," Jones says, wiping his face. "Be fucking thankful."

"I think the mozzies are thankful for the fresh blood," O'Neill replies, slapping his face.

At the next break in the trees, there's a soldier sitting there waiting.

"You lost, mate?" Obtulowicz asks warily. Soldiers on their own, even when they're your lot, aren't a good sign. Especially ones that look like they've been out for an afternoon stroll rather than hiking through bug-infested foreign territory.

The soldier straightens, pulling out some papers. "I was sent ahead with your new intelligence. One of your contacts was killed in a bar fight, and I've got some of his information, as well as new information on the location of a base that might benefit from being wiped out. It's the one you've been tracking for the past couple of weeks." With that, half of the unit roll their eyes. Christ. A sodding spook. All they need.

"Bloody secret service," Obtulowicz mutters, as Jones takes the papers to Captain Pevensie, who's been bringing up the rear. "We're sodding special ops, what do we need their sort for?" He pauses, taking a sip of water from his canteen. "Wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

Pevensie draws level with them and says cheerfully "Wise decision. I certainly wouldn't."

They give him a long mistrustful look. Considering this is Pevensie talking, the original suspicious bastard... Ramsey sighs. "All right, Pevensie, how d'you know him?"

"My younger brother," Pevensie says, and grins, nodding at the spook, who's currently doing his best nonchalant act. "Doing the family name proud."

Ramsey slaps another bug. "The family name being a swear word in most officers' messes. Don't tell me, you knew he was going to be out here."

Pevensie shrugs. "I was as in the dark as you were about this. But if Edmund's here, we've got a bit more of an advantage."

"Yet another savage bastard on our side. Good to know, can always use more of them."


Third day of being lumbered with the secret service agent who tends to merge in with the shadows so you forget he's even there. Complete contrast with his golden older brother. Peter's laughing at something Edmund said as he handed the tea out. O'Neill sips his. "What d'you reckon it is this time?"

"Really fucking obscure," Jones replies. "They were talking about unicorns last night, and I haven't the first idea what that's code for. Griffins and phoenixes I get, they're air support, and I think centaurs and minotaurs are heavy infantry or tanks, but search me when it comes to unicorns."

"Ours not to reason why, gents."

Around lunchtime, they spring an attack on the base Edmund's intel said was there.

Edmund takes point, sneaking up behind the guard and breaking his neck, catching his gun before it has a chance to clatter against anything and alert the men inside of their presence. He lowers him carefully to the ground as Peter goes for the next. Jones exchanges the 'why am I not surprised' gesture and eyeroll with Ramsey at the lad's obvious experience in this kind of thing. Pevensies, designed by nature to be sneaky bastards and efficient killers. Ramsey shrugs back and moves forward on Peter's mark.


Peter shoves his elbow into the CT behind him's face, following through by swinging his hand down to get him in the chest with his knife. Behind him, Edmund smashes his rifle across the face of the one who's just risen from the boxes with his gun trained right on Peter. Peter saw him. Jones could bloody swear he saw him, he looked right at him, then turned his back to go after the CT going for Obtulowicz. Pevensie never fucking does that, he - Jones ducks as Edmund goes for the CT by him, then returns the favour by shooting the one on the far side of the clearing. Edmund nods in thanks, moving through a gap in the fight to come up behind Peter, headbutting one man and slashing another's knee tendon as he does.

"See you're leaving your usual gaps in your defences," Edmund comments as he shoots an attacker in the leg. "Never fails, it's always the same ones."

"I'll work on that some other time," Peter says, ducking a blow aimed at him and rolling, kicking the man's legs out from under him.


When they're sure everyone's dead, aside from the couple they only winged specifically to keep for questioning, Ramsey rubs his face. "Everyone fine?"

Pevensie nods. "Seems so." There's a general chorus of 'ayes' and some grumbling. He cleans off his knife and puts it away. "Ed, you handle the questioning, you know what we need. Plus whatever your lot wants."

Edmund nods, pulling out his canteen and first aid kit from his pack, going to work on bandaging the prisoners' wounds. "Peter, you nearly hit the artery on this one," he grumbles. "We need them alive, not bleeding out in record time."

"You can manage, I've got at least a bit of faith in your battlefield first aid skills," Peter says.

"Spoiled by Lucy," Edmund sighs, turning back to his work. Another thing they'll probably never get an explanation for. That is, if they're talking about the sister that Captain Pevensie's mentioned and not someone else. You never bloody know with him, and once you add his brother to the mix, you've no chance.

Peter moves on to checking everyone for injuries, then joining most of the unit on the usual task of scouting for anything amiss, like hidden reinforcements or untripped wires. They've yet to find a CT base that doesn't have them.

Outside, Jones hisses "Pevensie, have you taken leave of your senses?"

"What?" Peter blinks, poking some of the long grass with his rifle.

"You're willing to let the spook handle the questioning."

Peter nods, as though letting a secret service agent do that delicate job is the natural way of things. Everybody knows they've always got their own agenda, and who knows what they think is important info. "Edmund's better at it than I am. Better at ferreting out odd details, too."

"He may be your brother, but he's still sodding secret service!" Jones scowls.

"Look, if you have a problem with him -" Peter scrubs at his hair, trying to make him understand. "Look, you trust me, right? Trust my judgement, you know I don't trust lightly. I trust Edmund to do this. Not because he's my brother. I wouldn't trust my sister Lucy for this kind of thing, they'd probably end up missing important bits. Like fingers. This is the kind of thing Edmund is damn good at, and far better than the rest of us."

"Fine," Jones sighs. "What about that fighting in there? You were sloppy, leaving gaps you never would normally. You left your entire side open once, turned your back on one you knew was going to shoot - what happened, did you take a blow to the head on the way in?"

"Edmund was there. I knew he'd cover for me," Peter shrugs, as though that's reason enough.

"Taken for granted, what can I say," comes from behind them. They didn't hear him coming. Jones doesn't flinch, because he's used to Pevensie doing it. Edmund might be even quieter. "Peter, did you want names?"

Peter nods. "Might as well, even if they aren't that distinctive - try to get nicknames, they'll be more useful."

"Will do." Edmund disappears back to what he was doing.

"So you trust your brother better than your unit that you've fought alongside for how long?" Jones fumes. "You never sodding do anything remotely that risky with us."

"Jealous, Jonesy?" Peter asks, his voice gone quiet. Captain Peter Pevensie is very rarely quiet unless he's sneaking up on someone. Anyone who's fought alongside him knows that you really learn to dread those times when he goes quiet. Jones swallows, not daring to look at his face, because if it's anywhere near the expression that's been known to occasionally accompany the really quiet tone, he'd be best heading for the hills. "Accept that I know Edmund better and can perfectly anticipate him. And leave it before you really drop yourself in it."

"So that would include fighting like a well-oiled machine in close quarters?" Jones queries, frantically trying to steer the mood back from the dangerous territory to him being just curious, honest. You never, ever want to get Pevensie angry. He's bad enough when he's cheerful.

"It would," Peter says, his tone a little lighter.

Jones forces on a grin, tilting his helmet back. "Do we ever manage to get you drunk or high enough to get where you learned all that?"

"Probably not."



( 21 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 21st, 2008 10:07 pm (UTC)
you are the best!!
Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:47 pm (UTC)
:basks in praise:
Sep. 21st, 2008 10:15 pm (UTC)
It's the Fighting Pevensies!

Which would be funny, if it weren't so goddamn scary.
Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:47 pm (UTC)
...Now I have images of them as a circus act and I'm very weirded out.
Sep. 23rd, 2008 06:33 am (UTC)
Fighting, not Flying...though that might be fun. *snorts*

However, if they were to join the circus, I'm sure there'd be knife-throwing and/or flames going on, rather than leotards. :)
Sep. 23rd, 2008 08:26 am (UTC)
One suspects Susan would be especially popular.
Sep. 21st, 2008 11:45 pm (UTC)
I really love this incarnation of the Pevensies, even if I'm not quite sure about Lucy breaking fingers. I guess it's easier to see the boys as hardened fighters than sweet little Lucy. You're a fabulous writer.
Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:44 pm (UTC)
...We are talking about the sweet little Lucy who you couldn't keep from the battlefield during the LWW years (Horse and His Boy) and was last seen holding a knife to Nikabrik's throat in the PC film, right?

:looks terribly modest at the praise:
Sep. 23rd, 2008 06:36 am (UTC)
That would be the Lucy *I* mean...she *is* sweet, but we can't forget that Lucy the Valiant was a warrior-queen, in addition to being a healer and spiritual person. The latter two qualities usually combine with her age to blind people to the former.
Sep. 23rd, 2008 12:04 pm (UTC)
Hmm. interesting. I never made the assumption of 'innocent and sweet' based on looks and age for Lucy because I've been perfectly aware since I was that little that the golden rule of any time there's trouble is 'look for the blondest cutest child for who instigated it'
Sep. 22nd, 2008 06:19 am (UTC)
I can't even describe how excited I got when I saw that you'd done another one! And I seriously can't articulate how much I love this! (did I say that last time?) As soon as I have some free time again I'll have to do some fanart for you because that is the only way I can think of to express just how much I love this! You are amazing, really!
Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:48 pm (UTC)
I deny all knowledge of feeding your addiction.
Sep. 22nd, 2008 08:45 am (UTC)
Yay! Peter! Pevensies united! \o/
Sep. 22nd, 2008 12:46 pm (UTC)
Run! Run for your lives, it's a Pevensie family reunion!
Sep. 23rd, 2008 06:40 am (UTC)
Team-up! *scoffs at your denial,lying abandoned in the dust*

I like that they trust each other both because *and* in spite of being brothers-it's more because they know each other that well and, as Peter says, can "perfectly anticipate" what the other will do. When I first read the bit about Peter leaving himself open in a fight, I thought "it's because he knows Edmund has his back".

Don't make Peter mad, he's bad enough when he's cheerful. And now he has back-up! *laughs*
Sep. 23rd, 2008 12:10 pm (UTC)
To quote Edmund: 'I know, you had it sorted'. But it is so much fun watching the people who *think* they know Peter suddenly getting exposed to new variables. If the army had let girls in, they'd be going 'Pevensie, didn't you make any contingency for that lot they always put in the trees?' '...Susan was on sniper duty. That automatically covers it.'

....I never claimed not to be a weak-willed hypocrite with a nicely appointed barge in Egypt that wasn't under the control of savage bunnies.
Sep. 24th, 2008 04:05 am (UTC)
But being the excellent general that he was, surely Peter would be aware of his weak spots where he relied on his siblings, and work to cover them, now that he's in the field again? He'd better!
Sep. 24th, 2008 08:27 am (UTC)
oh, the whole point of what Jonesy was saying is that normally he doesn't leave weak points at all. It's only when Edmund's in the field that he's taking more risks because he knows that Edmund'll cover him for them.
Nov. 24th, 2008 11:00 am (UTC)
Is it just me, or is this cool, professional brutality an extreme contrast to a name like Pevensie? >.>
May. 28th, 2009 01:25 am (UTC)
wouldn't trust my sister Lucy for this kind of thing, they'd probably end up missing important bits. Like fingers.

Oh, Lu, you darling.

The Pevensies, the original suspicious bastards. AWESOME.
(no subject) - skiestpypo - Jul. 18th, 2011 08:13 am (UTC) - Expand
( 21 comments — Leave a comment )

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