This was inspired by Florence and the Machine's "Only If For A Night." I listened to it, and for some odd reason, thought of Susan. Appearances are based off the latest movies.

Please don't give up on/after this chapter, it serves a purpose (or at least to me it does).

Disclaimer: I don't own the either song used or Narnia, yada yada, yada.

October 1949

The day Susan's whole family forever disappeared from her sight, it was cold and raining. There were plenty of crying mourners with people to hold them, but not one for her. She had the rain and the chilly wind to cool her so she didn't feel anything; she had her umbrella to ineffectively keep away the rain; she had her handkerchief to wipe away any moisture. But there was no one to hold her.

Her father was laid to rest first, then her mother. Susan wanted to reach out for them, have them tell her everything was going to be alright. She wanted her mother to wipe her eyes, and her father to give her a hug. And she knew it would never again happen.

Her older brother was next. Peter, wonderful, golden Peter. Her big brother, the one she looked up to. Peter with all the answers, Peter with some of her deepest secrets, her confidant. Just as she looked after him, he looked after her. He was her rock, but now that rock had been ripped away.

Her younger brother followed. She wasn't as close to Edmund, not as close as she had been with the others, but her heart was crumbled to pieces even more as her younger brother was lowered. She was his protector; she tried to be his mother when they had gone away during the war, and a sister all the other times. She was secretly thrilled when he'd come to her in search of dating advice. Now who else would make jokes at family reunions, or provide a bitter, yet logical side to arguments? Who else would praise her cooking?

What silence there had been was broken when it was Edmund's turn. Susan glanced across the grave. The person who had made the sound was a friend of Susan's. At least, she had been. Marcia Abbott was a few years younger than Susan. If she remembered correctly, her eighteenth birthday had passed a month ago. The girls had met at school, and they'd been surprised that Marcia's neighbor was actually Susan's cousin. Her mind started to wander back to those days, but then she stopped herself. Those days were from a different time, a beautiful time if she was honest, and today was certainly not beautiful.

As Edmund's casket was lowered, Marcia pressed her dainty handkerchief over her mouth. When she did so, a sparkling silver ring caught Susan's sight. Another sob escaped the younger girl's lips, and she doubled over. An aging lady next to her righted her, but Marcia refused to be consoled.

Susan's heart nearly split open when the fifth casket sank into the ground. Dear, sweet, little Lucy. There was no one like her, no one at all. She couldn't bear the thought of her sister leaving her. Susan swiped furiously at her eyes, knowing her makeup was running. Lucy was too young, much too young—they all were.

She despised the train that had done this. It had left her alone in the world. She was twenty, but she might as well have been an orphan child, she was so lost. She had no parents, no siblings, even her closest cousin was gone.

The minister continued to speak. Susan didn't hear a word. What was she to do now? There was no one she could talk to. None of her girl friends would possibly listen. They'd offer condolences, but nothing else. Their ears had more important things to listen to, and their minds had more important things to think of. There was Marcia, but they hadn't spoken in years. What was the use now?

When the minister had finished, people began to trickle away. Sometimes they went by themselves, other times in groups. Soon there was just two.

Marcia caught Susan's eye. They held it for a moment, each looking into the other's tears. Marcia's pretty green eyes were red and puffy. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but Susan turned away and started up the hill to the car.


Susan brushed her dark hair and put the brush down on her vanity. In the mirror, a prepossessing girl stared back at her. Susan flicked her hair over her shoulder and moved to go to bed.

There hadn't been one good night of sleep in almost seven months. She would toss and turn, or her sleep would be plagued by nightmares.

It felt like an eternity that she laid in bed, waiting for her tiredness to overtake her and sleep to come. And eventually, it did.

000

Birds chirped brightly in her ear. It was much sweeter than the birds in London, much more melodic. Susan cracked open an eye to find the sun shining down. She was lying on tall green grass. Susan pushed herself up into a sitting position and glanced around.

She was still in her blue nightgown. Her feet were bare, and there were no shoes nearby to be seen.

"East is east and west is west, and the wrong one I have chosen," a clear voice sang out. Susan turned to look over her shoulder.

A girl with dark red curls was coming towards her. She had fair, smooth skin, and lips turned up in a soft smile. She was wearing a nightgown as well, a light shade of pink, and her feet too were bare. The grass swished around her knees. The sun behind her completed the girl's angelic look, with golden rays surrounding her. "Let's move to some big town where they love a gal by the cut of her clothes."

"Marcia," Susan asked.

"Of course," Marcia giggled. She plopped down next to Susan.

"Where are we?"

Marcia's smile faded. "A good question. It is a good place, a safe place. But, my dear, you must never venture too far from here, not without one of us, and even if it is a good place, darkness will always try to extinguish the light."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Do not worry, my dear. It is not good to dwell on such things. So let us not speak of them. Remember the conversations we used to have?"

Susan stared at the girl in front of her. She looked real, but, at the same time…she didn't. She looked too robust. Her glossy hair seemed just a little bouncier and a deeper red, maybe even more curly. Her eyes glittered, and thick lashes fluttered. Her cheeks were more rosy; her skin more like porcelain. There was a calm, peaceful air about her. Marcia had always been glamorous, but in a way, this was unbelievable.

And then Susan's logical side clicked in. She had read in the paper about what happened. She hadn't wanted to believe it, even now she didn't, not after what had happened.

"I don't understand." Susan slowly started to back away. "You…it can't really be you. I mean, you—you—"

"Died." So emotionless and flat. The word coming from her mouth made Marcia look ten years older, and everything seemed a little less colorful. But then she smiled again. "Tell me, what do you think this is, Su?"

"A dream?" Susan answered after some thought. It was the only explanation.

"Practical, I supposed," Marcia confirmed with a nod. "Then again, you always were."

"What happened, Marcy?"

"It was a mix of things. Love was lost, and I got sick soon after. A cold turned to pneumonia, and my bed turned to a casket. It was like a domino effect. One thing led to another."

Susan was speechless. Marcia just shook her head. "Come now, I'm trying to get back to the old days. I missed it too." Her eyes glittered even more. "Did you know I was to be engaged?"

"Marcia! To whom?" Susan sat up and smiled, coming closer.

"Oh, you know him," she teased, trailing off.

"Robert? William? Jack? Sam? Maurice?" With each guess, Marcia answered with a no. Susan kept guessing every boy they'd ever met, and some that they hadn't.

Finally Susan fell backwards, her hands up by her head. "Ugh, Marcy, I give up! Just tell me."

"You'll find out soon enough," Marcia giggled. She laid down next to her, propping her head up with her hand, leaning on her elbow. The girls chatted for what seemed like hours, almost airy in conversation, and for once in what seemed like a long time, Susan was happy. It was too soon when Susan noticed a figure coming towards them. A man came into view. He was finely dressed in silk pajamas and barefoot as well. The man, she thought, was very, very handsome.

"Good evening, ladies," he purred. Susan found herself captivated by his speech.

"You aren't welcome here," Marcia said immediately, almost fearful. If she had been a dog, Susan imagined the fur on her back would have been standing up, and her ears would have been flat.

"My dear, that's not up to you, now is it?" he answered smoothly. The man took a seat next to Susan. He had dark brown, almost black hair, that just barely swept across his eyes. Susan found herself longing to reach out and brush it back. "Susan, you'll never guess what I saw."

"What's that," Susan asked, almost entranced. She thought Marcia's hand went to her shoulder.

"I saw Patty Malone coming out of Ernie Lann's apartment yesterday morning. Very early, yesterday morning." He raised one eyebrow suggestively.

Susan's eyes widened. She was about to answer, but she found herself being whipped around. Marcia pulled her face close.

"Listen to me, Susan. You must not engage in conversation with him. He will do nothing good for you, and you will not be able to stay here. You must insist that he leaves instantly."

"But Marcia—"

"No, Su. Please," she begged, eyes wide and a little scared, "tell him to leave."

Susan had never seen Marcia like this. She faced the new man again. "I believe it is time for you to go."

"Very well. If I must," he frowned. He stood, dusting his pajamas off, and went back the way he came.

"Marcia," Susan said when he was gone. "What was that all about?"

"Promise me you won't converse with him. And do not bring about things he would speak of."

Dumbfounded, Susan just shook her head, muttering something like, "I'll try."

"My time is fleeting." Marcia looked to the sky. The sun was setting slowly.

"You can't stay?"

Marcia thought carefully, her brow crinkling. Susan noticed she still scrunched her nose ever so slightly when she was in thought. "That is a tricky subject, my dear. It's more like you can't stay."

"But why?"

"You have given this up. But it's not too late; you may still have it." Marcia stretched and sat up.

"Will I see you again," Susan asked sadly. Marcia seemed different now, less of what had been, but even this lesser Marcia was more satisfying than her current situation.

"It is a possibility." She grinned. Marcia started to take small steps backwards.

"When," Susan pressed.

"Patience is a virtue," was her answer.

"Marcia," Susan said, trying to stop her. Anything to keep the girl from leaving. "I'm sorry about not speaking to you. Especially at the funeral."

"You are forgiven, Su. We will always still be friends. Remember this, what has happened tonight. You will need it. Goodbye, my dear."

"Goodbye," Susan whispered.

Marcia turned, and as she went, she began to sing her song again. With every step she took, the sun seemed to sink lower, and Susan's eyelids to droop.