Whoever had said that time heals everything had never experienced this kind of piercing pain, Susan was sure. The graves hurt each and every time still and more with each visit. Sometimes, it took weeks after for the choking in her chest to be subdued, even a little. But Susan Pevensie still came, on each holiday and their birthdays and her own birthday as well. Each time she hoped for a little consolation. Each time she was wrong.

They were happier than her right now, Susan knew. And maybe it was what destroyed her so much, imagining them happy and running and singing with everything around them. She'd chose to make herself believe that in the first few years, that her happiness was drained by theirs because she herself was a selfish bitch. It served false comfort for a while and then nothing but seething anger, resentment and more. It hadn't been hard to let go of the thought once she realized the damage. She'd never actually believed it anyway. Years had passed since those first few years. It had been ten years since they pulled the bodies out of that train wreck and the air sucked out of Susan's lungs had yet to return. As she stood here, once more, in front of their graves, she again tried in vain to retrieve it.

Today was Lucy's birthday.

Susan knew well what Lucy would say.

"You've been given another chance Susie. A chance to believe on your own, to really find your way."

"I didn't know what to believe for the longest time." Susan replied to the unsaid words. She was the always the logical one yet she had always lacked her sister's wisdom. Lucy was so childish and so wise at the same time and it was the former that had perhaps kept Susan from acknowledging the latter. If only Susan had listened more.

She looked at the grave in front of her and her sister's sweet, fragile name etched onto it. It was a simple grave as the others, they would hate something boisterous and glorious. Susan almost ignored this aspect of their personality years ago; they deserved everything glorious. Yet in the midway of handling the graves she called off the fancy designs. It was a progress on her part. Lucy Pevensie, it wrote shortly, beloved sister.

Ever since Lucy's death the silence of the trees struck her more. Perhaps it was stupid, the trees never sang in this world, but in her mind she always related it to her sister's absence. The trees were grieving for the beautiful young queen as everything else that lacked life.

Queen. It had been five months since Susan's last visit on Edmund's birthday and somewhere between the two visits something changed. Maybe it had been changing for the longest time and only took so long for her to realize it. Or maybe it just did, in a snap, like magic. But for the first time ever when Susan thought of her siblings, words came to her mind. Words she had abandoned long ago. She was arranging old albums with Bill, a friend who had a crush on her, which Susan felt too tired to return. Bill occasionally looked at some pictures, gave curt reactions or made small comments where as Susan wanted to be done with this painful deed as soon as possible. After a small chuckle from Bill she felt obligated to give a warning:

"Come on Billy, don't linger."

Bill gave her a small glance. He had handsome features, a long and elegant nose, sharp brows, broad shoulders. It was glances like these that sometimes made Susan wish she was strong enough to like him back.

"Sorry." He said curtly, but Susan knew he wasn't really. Bill always thought it would help her ease the pain if she learned to talk about her siblings. Susan refused that idea. It would only hurt more and even if it didn't, what could she say that wouldn't make him believe she needed to spend some serious time in a mental facility?

"It's just this picture," Bill explained as Susan knew he would, "Peter looks so noble for a young boy." He handed the picture to her so she could put it in its fitting box but her eyes lingered on it. Slowly and carefully, as if she had never spoken before she let out the words:

"Yes," She smiled, "like a king."

"Yeah," Bill laughed, "like a very young king indeed. I mean, look at that posture."

Of course, Bill didn't understand very deeply that night when Susan chokingly replied, "I'll handle the rest Billy," and tearfully led him out of the house. He also didn't understand what a change he had experienced when the words came out of Susan's mouth.

Like a king.

He was a king. They had been kings and queens once upon a time and her refusal hadn't changed anything.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the meaningless stones in front of her. "I believe now. I believe, I believe, I believe."

Nothing happened. She didn't know what she wished for, maybe a breeze, or a small ray of sunshine, the echo of a roar, or a single unspotted flower. Anger seethed in her once more, as most times it did when she came to these visits. She had been wrong, so wrong but hadn't she paid for it enough?

What were they waiting for? What was he waiting for?

"I know you're real. I know it was all real, I always knew but I refused, and I was wrong. But I was wronged as well."

She knew she wasn't speaking to them anymore. She knew her target was hearing her just fine. She knew what she was about to say she would regret later, but she was Queen Susan and she was as daring as she was gentle.

"I forgave you!" She yelled, "I forgave you long ago for everything you have taken from me and for leaving me behind, so you forgive me now too, and just do something!"

Yet all was still the same as she knew it would always be in this world.

"I don't know who you're yelling at, but maybe you should stop waiting for something to happen and do something yourself."

She turned back fast, out of breath and startled only to see a worried familiar face.

"What are you doing here Bill?"

"Well, you took longer than usual and I can't wait in the car forever you know."

Susan sighed.

"Sorry, you're right," She got up slowly, "Let's go."

"I can wait here with you if you'd like." He gave her one of those glances and sometimes his brown eyes shone so bright that they reminded Susan of a sun she'd lost long ago.

"I suppose." She smiled hesitantly.

They kneeled together in front of the graves and the choking didn't go away but somehow the world felt lighter.

"No one can forgive you," he spoke after a while, startling her, "because you haven't forgiven yourself yet."

"What?"

He shook his head. When he turned to look at her, Susan almost saw her lost world in his warm eyes.

"I'm just saying." He smiled, got up and brushed his pants. "Shall we?" He held out his hand.

And for the first time in forever Susan felt something other than pain. But Billy had just told her what she needed to do and she knew she needed to do it herself.

"Not yet." She whispered slowly.

"I know."

"You go home Billy."

He nodded, as laid back as ever, smiling. "Call me when you're ready, Susie." And walked away.

Susan sat there for several hours after. She cried and laughed and spoke to the graves as she never had before. The pain would always be there and perhaps the air would never return but she now had a new found hope of reunion.

As she moved to get up, she spotted a single tiny flower she hadn't seen before.

Soo, I just kind of dove into this story with no plans at all. Eh, not a very good idea I suppose. Anyways hope it turned out well enough, I'm not too sure. The character Bill completely found his own way to the story, I hadn't planned him at all and this was supposed to be a regular moping Susan story. But that's not too nice is it? Susan deserves some kind of hope. I guess you can sort of see my confusion in giving her hope and easing her loneliness yet still wanting her to find her own strenght first, which complicated things for me. And I'm also not sure about finding her connection to Narnia in a boy, or did she really find her connection to Narnia in a boy? Maybe he is just a middleman, or a message from Aslan, or just some laid back dude. Anyway, I'm just rambling and you guys are not here to read this anyway soo, I hope you liked it.

Lots of Love,

Necesisstas