My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness –2 Corinthians 12:9

And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it –Matthew 16:18


England, March 1945

The black-and-white light irradiating from the old television on the wooden table lighted the living room in the Pevensies' house. It was late in the night, around 11:20 p.m. An hour ago, when it was about 10:00, the four siblings had gathered in the living room to watch the most recent news regarding the war, as they had accustomed since several months ago.

As it is, the light coming from the T.V. caused Susan's face to look ghostly. Her lips were pursed and her eyes troubled as she caressed Edmund's dark hair. His head was resting on her lap, in a similar fashion, Peter was tenderly patting Lucy's golden-brown locks as her head laid over Peter's lap. Both Edmund and Lucy were soundly asleep.

"The offensive began on 6 March, spearheaded by the German Sixth SS Panzer Army. The spearheaded included elite units like Adolf Hitler's personal unit, the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler Division. However…" The reporter's grim voice faded as Susan turned to speak quietly to her older brother.

"Do you think this will ever end, Pete?"

"It's been almost six years now. And it looks that the Axis is losing its power; Many German-occupied territories had been re-taken by the Allies. I don't think the Axis's resistance will endure The Soviet, English and American forces combined. Therefore, I am very sure this war won't cloud our future for much longer." Even four years after their last departure from Narnia, Peter conserved well-oiled his keen abilities for political and, specially, military insight.

"You know? I can barely remember a time when the war wasn't present in our lives"

"Come on, Su. Surely you can remember a time of knight and castles and balls." Then he looked thoughtful, but continued, "It is true we were in war with Ettinsmoor very often, but we did had long periods of peace, didn't we?"

Susan laughed softly, and with a small, good-natured smile said "Sorry, I forgot you still remembered those games we played as children."

Peter looked flabbergasted. Of course, he would have thought Susan was joking, but he saw pity in her eyes. Then she sighed "Pete, Pete, when are you all going to let that go?"

"Let go of Narnia?" Peter was confused. Susan simply must be joking. But she looked far too serious for this to be a joke. He had only saw her this serious long ago, back in Narnia.

"I know we were forced to grow up too fast for our own good, because of all this" She gestured around her, putting some emphasis to the T.V. and the grim notices on German's offensive towards Hungary. "But we aren't children anymore, Peter. Come on, you are the oldest!"

Peter locked eyes with his sister, and taking her hands into his –softly, to avoid disturbing Edmund– "Su, you cannot give up on Narnia. You cannot give up on Aslan."

Susan shook her head. "Peter" then she paused. "Oh, forget it." But them Susan, as many women, changed her mind and kept on, adding in a slightly angered tone: "If Aslan existed, then he would be here, right?"

"But Aslan is here, he told so to Ed–"

"If he were here" Susan continued, unperturbed at her brother's interruption "he wouldn't have let this war last six years" She said this like she had thought about it long, hard and repeatedly.

"The Winter lasted for one hundred years, Susan, and he was there" Said Peter logically, something uncommon, since Susan was the 'levelheaded' and logical of the family. Nevertheless, Peter thought all she had said just now was utterly stupid, inane and basically a complete nonsense.

"No, Peter. He was not there. He was here" She said, patting his head

"Susan, how can you say that!" Hissed Peter.

"No, Peter Pevensie, you are already a grown man: How can you still think that!"

"Because I have faith, Susan. And you should, too, have a little faith." Stated Peter, with a tone of terminality entering his voice.

Susan sighed. "As you like it, Pete" She said, in a quiet tone, which Peter supposed was soft because she didn't want to startle her younger siblings. Therefore, Peter missed the stinging tear that ran through Susan's pale cheek. And the oblivious yet loving brother missed the much concealed sobbing of his sister, and mistook them for silent sighs.


England, December 1946.

Nylon.

Nylon, nylon, nylon.

Trends. Shoes. Dresses. Parties. So-called Friends. Lipsticks.

Sales

They had robbed his sister. They have clutched her and drag her to a word of darkness and vanity.

But it wasn't completely truth, if one is to tell the story as it was. In truth, Susan had willingly followed. But Edmund wouldn't mention, he wouldn't, he couldn't think that. No; he wouldn't allow himself to think that.

His thoughts didn't followed his command, anyway. They wandered to Susan. Poor, little fool, who would rather go to the market to buy stockings at "incredibly low Christmas prices" because she "simply couldn't miss such an opportunity" than attend to church with all the family. Of course, they had to understand that she "truly needed those nylon stockings".

The wooden seat was stiff as Edmund tried to listen to the lecture. How can she rather go shopping than come here! And so, the large auditorium of the church drifted off and Edmund found himself reliving his discussion with Susan prior to their coming to church.

"Su, but this is more important that a sale!" Argued Edmund. They had finally understood why they were here, in this word. They had found Him here, with another name, yes, but it was Him. It was His word they were going to hear. Why would Susan not come with them?

"A yearly, everything-50%-off sale and, yes, it is more important, Edmund. I can go to church any other day" she put both her hands on her hips, and raised her chin. "I won't go today, brother."

"But we have found Him here. We have, Susan, finally! You can't delay meeting with Him again!" Edmund took Susan's right hand in his and enveloped both his hands in the pale hand of his sister. "We all must be there, Su, please do come!" The siblings locked eyes for a while, until Susan looked away.

"You have just found an important social gathering, Ed. I would go if I had a proper suit to use, but I don't, and I won't go in with something improper!" Even in a light-brown dress to the knee, with a complementing coat and her raven-colored hair in a bun, Susan held the stance of a queen. Her lips were set in a thin line: The trademark of the stubborn queen.

Then, she just crossed her arms and ankles and sited at a low, beige sofa in one corner of their living-room.

"A social gathering? Susan, come on! This is not one of your "social events"! It is about meeting Aslan, Susan!" Yelled Edmund.

"Aslan?" She probed the name, and it almost sound foreign to her mouth. When had he last listened her older sister to pronounce the name? "So this is what it all us about? Aslan?" Susan laughed, with true humor, "Come on, Edmund! Grow up!"

"No, Susan" he eyed his sister whit cold brown eyes, betrayal and deception shining in them, "You are the one who should grow up".

Susan snorted, and the soft, plastic laugh of his sister sent a shiver through Edmund's spine. It lacked the warmth that had always characterized Susan's laugh.


September 1947

The first to feel it was Aunt Polly. A fleeting, fast and soft tickling in the tips of her fingers. Then it was Edmund. He felt a breeze which carried the strong smell of spring in the Wester Woods and not the smell of the brownish, fallen leaves of autumn. One by one, all eight of them (excepting Susan) felt the presence of Narnia in this world. They could feel her –not hear her- calling their names.

That was the reason they decided to hold a meeting in professor's Kirke house (The new, smaller one). Lucy had cheerfully suggested a name for them. To Peter, it sounded like a team of super-heroes, like the Fantastic Four or the League of Justice; although it was a much sober name than those: The Friends of Narnia.

Indeed, all eight Friends of Narnia were supposed to attend the meeting, which was some sort of family-and-friends-gathering with a specific agenda in mind. (Eustace had mockingly suggested to send a minute, the crazy and not-so-little boy). When the siblings arrived home, Lucy ran to her sister letting out a cascade of words on the matter. She was so eager, some of the flowers she had collected during the walk back home fell to the ground in her haste. Susan grimaced, tired of her siblings' unstopping belief in silly childhood games. She was dressed for a tea party, with a light-yellow blouse and a thick coat that held some resemblance to her coat, the one lost in time and space at the other side of the Wardrobe, all those autumns ago…

"Honey, if all this rambling is about Narnia and Aslan, you'd better save your words…really, dearie, you should leave those fairytales behind."

"No, Su, this is serious. Narnia is calling us, don't you feel it?" Asked the little one in an outburst of passion.

Susan scowled. She felt nothing at all. She knew all this must be children bedtime stories. Logic dimmed it all impossible. She didn't feel because she didn't believe, no… she didn't feel because there was nothing to feel. Period. End of story.

Because this is just a story…

"Lucy, you cannot feel what doesn't exist. Get it, Lu: Narnia. Does. Not." Susan paused for effect, her hands making emphasis in each word, "Exist." Susan leaned a bit over Lucy, and gesticulated, as if explaining to an eight-year-old that worlds in a Wardrobe do not exist, that trees do not move and that animals do not talk. Susan was condensing all those explications in four words.

Lucy felt a weird combination of emotions just then. She was wearing a caramel-colored suit and her blonde locks flowed to her waist. Her basket of wild flowers fell to the ground with a soft tud. Her hazelnut eyes were wide. Her voice was slightly open and, even though she expected to be angry, we felt herself terrified.

For Lucy, time seemed to stop, although just a few seconds passed before she said in a shaky silver voice "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia." The boys, who were on the coral-colored sofa, mouths firmly set, hard eyes, saluted in Narnian old fashion: Three fingers extended through their chest, just over their hearts.

Uncomfortable by her sister's words (and more so by her brothers' actions), Susan decided not to hear to that little voice in her mind repeating "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia". Instead she shrugged and stated, "Never a King or Queen of Narnia, Never ever a King or Queen of Narnia".

"But Susan-" Lucy's hands reached for the once-gentle queen but her, not too gently, jerked her hand out of Lucy's reach.

"Hush your mouth, Lucy. Understand: I do not care about Narnia, I do not care about Aslan and I do not care about y-"there she stopped. She couldn't believe she would say that. She wouldn't, would she?

Although Lucy seemed about to faint (the two brothers hurried to help her), Susan pressed her lips together, and turned on her heels, leaving. The tuk-tuk-tuk of her heels seemed to echo through the house, eternally going farther and farther away.

Of course, Susan could never fathom she would never see her sweet little sister again. Nor Lucy, nor Edmund, nor Peter; not on Earth, at the very least. Because Narnia and Aslan had reclaimed them. Indeed, she couldn't remember more sorrowful moments in all, all her life than this, when there was no-one to comfort her. In her grief, however, that little voice that repeated "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia" seemed to be the only logical piece of her brain.

That was how, when Queen Susan felt so weak she couldn't stand up, she knelt and prayed: Then and there, though faith, she regained some of her long-forgotten strength: she started remembering everything, and as she started believing, she began to feel and to heal.

Oh, blessed faith of her glory days, how missed it was! When it came back, it started out as a feeling, which then turned into a hope… Still, she found it more like a quite promise than like a battle cry, meant to be whispered in her soul and heart:

You will come back.


It started out as a feeling
Which then turned into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet though
Which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder
'Til it was a battle cry
I'll come back when you call me
No need to say goodbye


A/N: I am so, so sorry about the late update! I am pretty sure you don't want to read my alibies, so…sorry! I really, really and truly want to thank you all for your support: your reviews/favorites/follows keep me going through with this (yes, I did feel guilty).

So, this were supposed to be Susan's version of Peter's (the Apostol) disowns. She lost faith, she let herself be dragged down by the material things and finally, she lost herself in the World; until she finally rose again. The reference to the Prince Caspian's movie wrote itself, but I feel it fits the story well enough… Oh, and the data about the WWII is actually true; the operation's name was "Spring Awakening".

I personally believe that Susan went back to Aslan/God… What do you think happens with her? If she goes to 'heaven', does she goes to the New Narnia or to our 'classic' heaven? As always, please review!