Narnia – Not Alone.
By Allyson
(A/N – Narnia belongs to C. S. Lewis. Set after the last book and train crash. Slightly AU as I've given Susan her own family.)
The policeman rocked back onto his heels, breathing into his cupped hands in a vain attempt to ward off the cold October air. He leaned against his patrol car, keeping a sharp eye out on both lanes of traffic on this short stretch of the M1. Nearing 11pm, there was only the occasional car and lorry passing-by. Glancing at his watch, the policeman realised it was nearing the end of his shift and turned to get back into the car.
The sound of running feet and screams for help stopped him in surprise. Turning, he found a young woman running towards him, frantic panic written across her expression and her long brown hair streaming in the wind behind her.
"You have to help me!" she gasped, short of breath, once she was near him. "Please, sir, help me!"
"Now, miss, calm down," the policeman soothed. "What's your name?"
"Susan, Susan Pevensie," she rattled off quickly. "There was an awful accident. Please you have to help me – my children!"
"Calm down, miss," frowned the policeman, jotting down notes in his log book. "Where's the accident?"
"There!" the lady pointed wildly behind her. The policeman raised an eyebrow at the empty space she was gesturing to. "Can't you see? For goodness sake – the car's wrapped around the tree! Help me!"
Clearly, she was mad. Flipping the notebook shut and tapping his pen thoughtfully against it, the policeman slowly came to a decision. Looking up, he was startled to find the distraught lady had vanished. He was once again standing all alone in the cold night air.
A disconcerting chill ran down the policeman's spine.
"Hello?" he called out.
When there was no response from the mysterious lady, the policeman started to question his senses. Was it possible that he had dreamt the entire encounter? Shaking his head, he decided he'd been doing far too much overtime.
He was once again about to get into his car, when the sound of screeching tyres caught his attention. A rather old black car skidded around the corner, lost control and crashed into a tree. The exact same tree the lady had pointed out to him.
Springing into action, the policeman bolted towards the crash site. Smoke poured out of the engine, the front window screen was smashed into a glittering display of glass shards and a thick tree branch had gone straight through the passenger side and was now sticking out of the back window. No one in the crash could possibly have survived.
Making his way to the right-hand side of the car, the policeman let out a startled gasp. It was the mysterious lady, Susan Pevensie, slumped over the steering wheel. Dark strands of hair and blood from a gash on her forehead obscured her face. Reaching out a hand to her neck, the policeman was even more surprised to find a pulse. She was alive but appeared to be barely conscious. He quickly checked her for other injuries and finding none, pulled her out of the car and into his arms.
"I'm sorry, Aslan . . . so, so, sorry, I forgot you . . ." Susan stirred in his arms, murmuring to herself as if in some-sort of prayer. "Please, Aslan, save my children . . . please . . . save . . . sorry . . ."
She fainted.
The policeman frowned down at her. He paused besides the back of the car and looked through the window. Despite the tree branch, the backseat was bare. No sign of blood or any other type of evidence to suggest that there had ever been passengers. Clearly the poor girl was confused and hallucinating due to her head wound. She obviously needed to be taken to a hospital.
Turning away from the wrecked vehicle, the policeman began to carry Susan towards his patrol car. He hadn't gone more than a foot away from the car when he came to an abrupt standstill, almost dropping Susan in the process.
Sitting quite happily on the side of the road, staring up at the policeman with wide curious eyes, were two young children. Both had the same noses and dark hair as Susan. Miraculously, there wasn't a scratch or bruise on either child.
"Is Mummy dead?" asked the small boy, who couldn't be more than six-years-old, his voice trembling.
Crouching down in front of the children, the policeman carefully laid Susan on the floor.
"No lad," he reassured them, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair. It was a part-reassuring gesture, part-needing to be sure that he was indeed real. "Your mother will be fine. She's just resting. Can you and your sister tell me how you escaped the crash?"
Both children nodded with matching serious expressions.
"Uncle Pipper saved us," the four-year-old girl shyly whispered, before replacing her thumb back into her mouth.
The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. "He was surrounded by a glowy light just like Mum said angels have in Heaven."
"Your Uncle is dead?" asked the policeman, to make sure he understood the boy properly.
Both children nodded with huge innocent eyes. The policeman was rapidly becoming confused.
"We wanted Uncle Peter to stay and keep Mummy happy but he said he couldn't stay," continued the young boy, animatedly. "He said he'd heard Mummy's calls for help, so he took us out of the car before it crashed. It was great!"
The little girl nodded and added, proudly, "I was brave."
"Uncle Peter said that he loved us and that we had to look after Mum. Then he disappeared like a magician," the boy finished. "I like magic."
"I heard a lion," stated the little girl, giving a little growl and holding her hands in the air like she was a lion showing her claws.
Susan stirred with a small smile flittering across her expression. "Aslan," she breathed, before her eyelids fluttered closed again.
The policeman blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the children's bizarre story.
"I can't even begin to explain what happened here tonight and how you've all survived," he told the children slowly. "Let's get your mother to a hospital, shall we?"
Getting to his feet, the policeman carried Susan in his arms and led the children to his car. Making sure everyone was settled in the backseat, the policeman drove away from the scene of the crash.
The next morning, Susan Pevensie awoke to find herself in hospital, relieved to find her children alive and healthy. They were curled together in a chair asleep by her bedside. A piece of paper on the nightstand caught her attention. It was a copy of the policeman's final report. On it was written a simple line: 'An angel watched over this family tonight.' Underneath it was a childish scrawled drawing of a lion and next to it her son's carefully printed handwriting – 'Uncle Peter.'
Susan smiled; her first genuine smile in a long time. "Thank you."
The End.