I am not C.S. Lewis. I am not a writer. I am not a theology scholar either. Although, I am about to pretend to be a little of all three.

I am merely an interested party that believes the story did not end with the last battle.

The idea of permanent salvation is in direct conflict with the thought of Susan not being allowed into heaven for her later denial. I hope to resolve some of these issues in my story.

A few people believe that this is where Jack wanted to go with Narnia. After hearing rumors about the story that he never got to write, the "prodigal daughter" type story CS Lewis actually intended to pen for his beloved Susan character, my mind began to fabricate him writing something like this...

Also: I am looking for betas to review this and the next chapters. I doubt the story will be much longer than 4 or 5 more chapters, but a second set of eyes would be appreciated. If interested please pm me.

The Return to Aslan: Susan's Last Adventure

Chapter 1

She smiled a little, which seemed to be a rare sort of thing for her at this age. The faded picture with sepia smiles brought back happy memories from so very long ago. Her eye glassed over a bit as they do when one was about to cry, but as the air was leaving her lungs to do so, she shook her head and dashed away the memories. She thought of moving the picture away from the mantel so many times. It seemed that every time she was putting a new log on the fire she would end up staring at it for a minute or two. She always ended up dismissing the thought in the end though, and now after so many years, the picture was like an old friend. The fire cracked with the new log now set upon the blaze, so Susan decided to return to her chair.

Something similar to the sound of a stampede, but lighter and almost clumsier sounding, echoed from the hallways. From the midst of the banging and clattering came voices. "Aw! You cannot do that! It's cheating!" "I can too Lucas! It's my game and I said that these are the rules!" These kinds of voices and noises seemed to ring throughout the house all day, or at least, since it started raining. A woman's voice out in the hallway called after the herd, "No running now! And keep it down! It's getting late and you don't want to disturb grandma's things."

Susan's daughter, Elizabeth, and grandchildren had been making such a ruckus today. With all the noise, Susan almost missed the soft calling, "Grandma Susie?" Turning her head a bit to look over her shoulder, she noticed the child. "What are you doing, grandma?" asked Patricia, the youngest of her daughter's brood. She broke away from the game that the other children were playing and was now on tip-toes as she approached her grandmother.

"I'm just reading a story," replied Susan and this seemed to be the kind of answer the Patricia had hoped to hear. Patricia immediately hopped the few remaining steps between her and her grandmother's chair, then plopped herself down on the floor near her Grandmother Susan's feet.

"What kind of story?" squeaked the child, "Is there magic and adventures?"

"No," Susan replied, "no magic or adventures in this one I'm afraid. In fact, it's quite dull." With that, she closed the book in her lap. Susan knew that with Patricia at her feet she was not going to get much more reading done. And truth be told, the book was in fact very dull and Susan was tired of reading it. "Do you like stories, Patricia?"

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "I like them very much. Mummy tells some of the best stories to us at bed time." The child's eyes fixed on Susan as if there was much more to this statement then she told. Patricia opened her mouth to say more, but then apparently thought the better of it and just continued to look intently at her grandmother.

"What kind of stories does she tell you?" asked Susan, who was sincerely interested now.

"Well," started Patricia, "she tells us a great many stories." She continued to list off a few typical children's stories and paused for a moment as if she was not sure if she should go on. "But my favorite stories are the ones about you."

This surprised Susan. "The ones about me?"

"Yes, when you went to Narnia," Patricia answered. "Mummy tells us all about the adventures you had there and how you were a Queen. I really like all the talking animals so I ask to hear about those stories all the time." She was more excited and seemed to be truly pleased that she was finally talking to her grandmother about this. "The beavers and the little mouse with the sword, and the tree people, and dwarfs, and centaurs!" She continued to ramble off more and more figures and characters, getting more excited as she went until finally she said, "Oh, and Aslan! He's my favorite."

At just his name, Susan shivered a bit but dismissed the reaction. "Oh, those stories," was all she could seem to say.

Patricia inched a bit closer to her grandmother's feet. "It was raining like today when you went the first time, right? Mummy said that you were playing inside while it was raining and ended up finding Narnia in a wardrobe!"

Seeing as how there would be no shifting from this topic, Susan figured she might as well get the child's story straight. "No, when it was raining only my sister Lucy went through the wardrobe. Well, that is to say that Lucy was the one to first imagine the game that we played. She first thought of us finding a magical land in the wardrobe."

"Oh," replied Patricia. The look on her face was rather serious for someone of her age. She was clearly trying to sort out all the details of the beginning of the story.

Susan wanted to explain that the stories were all just games that they played when they were children. While they had very active imaginations. None of it was real. Susan looked closer at Patricia who seemed to be still thinking very hard. With her little expression so serious, Susan felt her heart soften. She remembered Lucy's face looking just as serious as she told Peter and her about the magical land she had found and her friend faun. Patricia did look very much like Lucy, especially now, she was the same age as Lucy when their games first began. "We…" she paused and changed her mind, "when we all went into the wardrobe for the first time together it was because we were hiding from the professor we lived with. We had just broken his window and none of us wanted to get into trouble."

Dropping whatever thought seemed to be troubling her, Patricia focused on her grandmother again. "You lived here at the time right?" she asked. "I mean, the professor passed away and you moved into his house, but before that. When it was just the professor living here, you all came to stay with him during the war?" Patricia's question was more a statement and Susan realized that she knew the Narnia stories rather well.

"Yes, that's right. I was staying here with Lucy, Edmund, and Peter." Susan began to retell the story as best as she could remember. She was surprised to realize she remember a lot from their games. Patricia, who was a very captive audience, would chime in only occasionally to ask a question. It seemed that she knew most of the story by heart already and could probably even tell it better than Susan could, but there were still details she was curious to know more about.

They had only just gotten to the part where Susan received her bow and her horn from Father Christmas, when Elizabeth's voice broke up the story. "Patricia, honey, it's getting late you should be getting ready for bed."

"But mummy, we are just getting to the good parts!" declared Patricia.

"Oh, I'm sure it will all be just as interesting tomorrow. Come on now," Elizabeth motioned toward the door, "I'll be along to tuck you in soon. Make sure you brush your teeth."

With a little bit of grumbling and sighing, the little girl finally got up. She hugged her grandmother and gave her a pleading look to which her grandmother reassured her, "We will finish the story tomorrow." At that, Patricia seemed to have a little more spring in her step as she headed off to bed.

Her daughter came over to the fire by Susan and took the seat opposite her. "What were you two talking about?" she asked.

"Oh, just the Narnia story," Susan replied.

"As long as you are comfortable telling the stories, mum," said Elizabeth. Susan gave her a puzzled look. Elizabeth went on to explain, "Mum, you just always get so sad after talking about Narnia and your brothers and sister. That's why, as much as I loved the Narnia stories too, I stopped asking you to tell them. You just seemed to light up when you told them, which is part of why I loved to hear them, but seeing how sad you would get after… it just made me too sad." She paused for a minute and looked into the fire, "I started telling the children your stories when they couldn't sleep. They really took to them too, just like Nancy and I had. Patricia loves to hear them the most. In fact, if I stopped reading from all the other books entirely, she wouldn't even notice, as long as I kept telling her about Narnia."

Susan smiled, "She's very bright and reminds me so much of Lucy." She looked up at the mantle and the old picture of all four of them together. Little Lucy eagerly talking about her adventures with Mr. Tumnus while she was a Queen. Suddenly, a picture of a young woman in a silver crown flashed in her mind. Susan shook her head and the image of the bright-eyed young woman left her.

"Are you alright, mum?" Elizabeth asked as she got out of her chair.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Susan got up as well and decided to head for bed too. She squeezed her daughter's hand and kissed her cheek then went over to the fire and made sure to close up the screen tight. "I'm fine, dear. Goodnight." She could hear Elizabeth calling goodnight as well and heading for the door. As Susan stood back up from tending the fire, she caught a glance at the picture again. This time she did not shake the feelings away. She let a few tears come down her face before she turned to walk away.

As Susan lay in bed, still very awake despite the now late hour, she continued to think about Narnia. She remembered the first time she started telling Nancy and Elizabeth her tales about Narnia. There had been a terrible storm right after they moved into this house and all the power had gone out. She went to the children's room to comfort them, knowing that neither of them liked storms very much. Elizabeth, certainly still scared but trying to put on a brave face for her little sister, suggested a story. With candles and flashlights mostly hidden in boxes yet to be unpacked, Susan would not be able to read a word from any of their books in that darkness. She would have to tell them a story from memory. All she could picture as she looked into her brave yet scared daughter's face was Aslan. "Have I ever told you how I was once a Queen?" Susan asked her children. That certainly got their attention. After that, the books on the children's shelves began to collect dust. Night after night, the children wanted to know more about Caspian, or the White Witch, or different feasts and parties at Cair Paravel, or Aslan. Elizabeth wanted to know mostly about Aslan. "Was he nice? How big was he? Did he really die?"

It was on Aslan that Susan's thoughts now rested. She began to grow tired and now she was feeling a mixture of longing (as you would for a friend you've not seen for a long time) and bitterness.

Continued to Chapter 2