"Jenny, men who go off talking about things that just aren't possible aren't worth dating; take advice from me, darling. I have known . . . strange men in my life." The young woman's British accent was in sharp contrast to the American girl's sitting on the bed buckling her heels for her evening date. She looked up, her dark hair rippling smoothly out of her face.

"Susie, I just feel that maybe; maybe I should give him another chance." The young woman, Jenny, looked slightly doubtful about her friend's words. She had been angry – annoyed – when Cliff ruined the set the afternoon previous, but her determination to loathe him for the rest of her days was waning. He was sweet; cocky and smart, but really sweet sometimes.

The British transfer student laughed in front of the vanity table, turning on the small swivel stool to face the bed. "Jenny, you are going to dinner tonight with one of the most famous actors in Hollywood – the world, not just Hollywood – and you're feeling guilty for rebuking Cliff about what he did? You're amusing, Jenny, you really are." Jenny blinked, a bit surprised at the note of bitterness she could detect in Susie's voice.

"You're my friend, and I trust you because you seem to know more about most things than I do, Susie, but Cliff was earnest. You've only met him once, when he came here and I wasn't in. He wouldn't lie about something like this." But she was angry at him again. 'If he hadn't ruined the set – if he had just waited for me – I wouldn't feel so confused and I wouldn't be fighting with Susie!'

"Sinclair is a marvelous actor; he could make your career, you know. Which is exactly what you should be thinking of, not some silly flyboy without any hope of ever doing anything but aerial shows," Susie remarked sarcastically, carefully applying Rubinstein's 'Red Raspberry' lipstick after outlining her already full lips.

"I know he is, and I can't believe that this night is happening, but I also feel that Cliff shouldn't be cast aside for my career. He wouldn't do that to me." Jenny absently brushed her finger over the smooth white instep of her glossy heel.

"Do you know that, Jenny? I have had men do that – my own brothers – because they would rather celebrate fantasy instead of exist in reality! And they died because they'd rather play silly games!" Hurt filled Susie's eyes, and Jenny sympathized, wondering again what it must be like to have no living family but an aunt and uncle who lived across an ocean.

"I'll take your advice with a grain of salt, all right?" Jenny stood, moving to fetch her wrap and clutch from a little round table near the door of the room, which they shared with Irma.

"Jolly good, Jenny darling!" Susie smiled sweetly, but her eyes still held a strange expression of distant pain. "I hope you have a wonderful evening, and it's not spoiled by Cliff tracking you down and rambling about that silly rocket of his; it's just not logical."

Jenny grinned cheerfully, and dipped her head, dark locks swaying around her face attractively. "Oh," as she was about to move out the door she turned back. Susie looked over at her. "What are you going to be doing this evening?"

The British girl smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm going to find something to do, I'm sure of it. Today is the anniversary. One year ago, today," she declared, though she waved it off carelessly while dabbing on a hint of perfume.

"After Irma comes in, you're going out, then?" Jenny clarified, wanting to be certain. She'd need someone to be here and awake so she could talk about this dinner!

"Yes, that's about the whole of it," Susie answered, standing and looking over to her bed, where a very fashionable forest green evening dress awaited her. "I'll be fine, darling!" she insisted as Jenny left. She watched the door close, and listened for Jenny's footsteps echo softly down the hall. "I'm always fine." She inhaled a bit raggedly, but began composing herself.

"I'm always fine."

She glanced over to that vanity, her eyes lighting on the black and white stuck in one corner amongst the actors and hairstyles. Four smiling children; three smiles that would nevermore be seen; two years since the end of those three voices being heard every day; only one left, and it hurt too much to be called Susan Pevensie. She had jumped at the chance to be called 'Susie' here in America, the land of the future and change. She was fine, she was.

Carefully, she dressed herself, tugging on her heels and reaching for her clutch. She was divine Susie Rawleigh, the ravishing British beauty. Men fawned over her and women longed for her advice on style and sensibility. Not to mention on men. She was treated as a queen and shouldn't think about anything but the next date or party. She had wanted it, sacrificed everything for it, and now she had it. Didn't she want this?

"You're being a silly goose," she scolded softly, leaving the room. "You must look nothing but sensational tonight for Fenton, Su; sensational. Emotions are anything but," she whispered to herself.

A/N:

I honestly don't know where this vignette came from, and I know how it couldn't work. The Rocketeer (I'm going by the film) was set in 1938 and the train crash happened in 1949, I know. But I decided to scrap logic and just write. I'm calling this a Narnia fanfic because there's no Rocketeer FFN for me to cross this over with.

Rawleigh is the maiden name of the Pevensies' mother. (At least in my AU.) I like the idea of Susan taking her mother's name when she moved to America. Also the thought of her meeting Jenny. (Before I'd seen Anna Popplewell grown up, I used to imagine that Jennifer Connelly was what Susan might look like all grown up. The cover photo should be a picture of Gene Tierney (another woman I envision Susan looking like), and if it's not, then something is wrong with FFN.

Tell me what you think,

WH