Bookverse; I tend to think of the characters in terms of film casting. This is set temporally at the very end of The Silver Chair, but references the situation immediately after Voyage of the Dawn Treader. The title is from a line by the Tenth Doctor in the Doctor Who Children In Need special Time Crash.
You don't remember dying.
Now you think about it, you don't have many clear memories of recent events. You remember setting off to sea, on a voyage tracing similar paths to the Dawn Treader so many years ago, on another quest: this time, to find the Lion. You know not to expect another miracle to happen in the seas en route to the Lone Islands, but your treacherous heart has never seen fit to follow the rules and you find yourself hoping regardless.
Nothing happens. You're disappointed, as is natural, but you won't admit even to yourself how much it hurts.
The rest of the voyage is hazy at best; you don't know whether it's age causing it or something else, and you don't care to think too much about it. The one clear memory you dohaveis from your return; you have Rilian in your sight for the first time in you can't remember how long. One moment, you're with Rilian; the next, you're here. Whatever happened in between is cloudy in your mind and when you try to sharpen the memories, to see the detail, they blur further and it's as if you're watching them through a window of tears. Further attempts to recollect do nothing except confuse you further, and you find it's easier just to stop.
You see what looks like a young man taking hesitant steps towards you, his arms wide open. It's obvious he recognises you. Your memory's being tiresome again and refuses to co-operate. As the young man comes closer, into sharper focus, he seems familiar and your heart leaps; could it be Ed? After all this time? After a few moments, the young man comes closer still and it's then you recognise him: it's Eustace. For a second or two, disoriented, you wonder where Ed is; if Eustace is here, surely Ed cannot be far away?
Things come crashing down in short order as you force yourself to remember what Aslan said the day you and Ed were compelled to say good-bye.
Your ability to comprehend reality returns. Wherever Ed is, he isn't here; it's surprising, yet somehow not, how much capacity it still has to hurt you. Every day of your life, since you watched him walk away from you, it has hurt to remember. It's been decades since you last saw him, and you have grudgingly accepted it's almost certain you never will again, but after years of trying to change things you've learnt your heart wants what it wants and won't be persuaded otherwise. And Ed, has almost always, since you met him, been the person you've wanted at your side.
Because it's so painful to think about Ed, you don't even know which you miss most: the man you love, or the parts of you he took with him when he had to leave you. And you're so different from the man he knew, you wonder if he'd recognise you; on your bad days, you doubt it. The years the two of you have spent apart have been harsh on you. The irony that you are the man you are now, at least in part, because of how he changed you never escapes your notice and you find the idea you could ever let yourself be that man again, even with Ed himself beside you, almost impossible to believe.
When Ed is torn from you, you have nobody left who can understand what you are going through save, perhaps, Drinian (who is your closest friend again now Ed is gone). Yet Drinian knows only that you and Ed were, before you lost him, closer than brothers. And, because you hold so much of yourself back, even Drinian doesn't know how much you love Ed, or the exquisite pain each day without him holds for you. Although Drinian knows Ed that link, which should bring you together, does nothing but pull you apart. Drinian tries his best to understand how you feel but, because your experience is unique, he finds it impossible.
And then there's your Queen. On the very worst days, when you wake from dreams of Ed that make you miss him to (and well beyond) the point of pain, you struggle to even look her in the eye. Your logic for this is simple, but flawed. She, a woman you met when Ed was still with you, is still there; Ed, the man with whom you are still in love and who you suspect you'll love for ever, will never be again. It's not fair, and the guilt for it eats at you, but you can't help but hate her a little for that. Then again, nothing about this whole situation has ever been 'fair' for anyone. And the worst thing of all is how the fact she is there, when Ed is not, isn't even why you can't bear to look at her; it's because through no fault of her own she makes you think of happy days, and a much-missed lover, that are gone for ever.
And not only that.
She reminds you, beyond the point of endurance, of who and what you used to be.