Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.

A/N: This is two days later. Please review!!

--Chapter 3--

Jill Pole stared out the misty window and let out a long sigh.

It was raining.

Again.

The holidays were almost over, and school was starting next week. Jill curled up her legs under her and watched the rain dripping off the roof. She was at the Pevensie's house, as usual. Her mum and dad were on a trip to Italy to finish up the summer, and Jill had been left behind.

She could have waited out the storm at her house, but it was so lonely. She didn't have any brothers or sisters, and Lucy, sensing the girl's reluctance to return home after lunch, had invited her over.

"Would you like some tea?" Lucy asked from the kitchen.

"Yes please," Jill replied. It was a good day for tea, and Lucy seemed to make the best tea in England.

Absently, Jill traced a line in the condensed water on the window. When she noticed the shape it was taking, a smooth "E", she immediately wiped it out with one swipe of her hand.

After a few minutes, Lucy joined Jill on the window seat, and both the girls staring out at the bleak English countryside.

"It looks like Ettinsmoor," Jill murmured.

"Does it?" Lucy asked.

Jill hadn't said much about her adventure in Narnia, and all Lucy had heard was from Eustace's point of view.

"I never went the way to Ettinsmoor when I was in Narnia," she continued. "Except…"

"What?" Jill asked curiously.

"Once, when Peter was in the war with the giants, Edmund and I went up there for a ride to see if he needed any help. It wasn't rainy when we went, though."

"Oh," Jill replied. Lucy was the curious one now. Jill was obviously preoccupied by something, or she would have already convinced Lucy to tell her the whole story.

"All right, Jill," Lucy began in a different voice, one that made Jill look up at her instantly. "What's up? Why are you so distant today?"

Jill sighed again, and said, "I just have a lot on my mind."

"It's Eustace isn't it?" Lucy asked. Jill looked out the window again.

"Why should it be?"

"Now look, Jill, he's my cousin. What's up? With you and Eustace I mean."

"Stop being so nosy!" cried Jill, and Lucy drew back.

"I'm not trying to be nosy," she started, "but it's kind of hard to understand you when all you two do is fight! What is going on?"

Jill was silent. Lucy sighed and got up.

"I'll go check on the tea," she announced.

She turned to leave, but stopped when she heard a choked sob behind her. Lucy whirled around and ran back to her young friend.

"Oh Jill, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the weeping girl.

"It isn't your fault, Lucy! It's Eustace's!" Jill cried, dashing away a few angry tears.

"Whatever is the matter?" Lucy asked gently, remembering not to sound nosy.

"He's such a hateful …obstinate… stuck up… pig!" Jill gasped between sobs.

"What did he do?"

"When Aunt Polly told us that we were all going to get together to talk about Narnia, it all came back!"

"What did?"

"All the horrible, terrible things I did! Like causing Eustace to fall off the edge of the cliff, and forgetting the signs. I felt terrible. I mean, I know that Aslan forgave me, but I still can't forget it all! Then, after Aunt Polly told us, Eustace started being unreasonably cruel! He started ignoring me completely! And then, when I asked him why, he wouldn't answer me straight and then he started yelling at me not to be so nosy!"

"Oh Jill, Jill, It's all right," Lucy stated, stroking her hair.

"But it's not! I…I miss him! I miss the old Eustace!" Jill declared, blushing furiously.

Lucy wisely decided not to say anything. They were quiet for a moment, and then, the kettle let out a shrill whistle.

"Oh dear!" Lucy exclaimed, jumping up. "Of all the worst times to go off!"

She turned to Jill. "I'll be right back!" she promised, and rushed off.

Jill leaned back against the wall, gazing out once more into the damp, dripping world outside. She bit her lip, and one last solitary tear streamed down her flushed cheeks.

"Oh Eustace!" she whispered sadly, tracing another "E" lightly in the window. "Why can't you be like you used to be?"

She waited until Lucy reentered the room, this time carrying two teacups.

"Here, Jill," she said, offering the girl one of them. Jill took it gratefully, and at the first sip, she smiled.

"Is this the tea that you bought at the coffee shop that one time?" she asked curiously. "The one you said reminded you of spiced wine?"

"It certainly is," Lucy replied, "And I only keep it for dreadful rainy days like this. Today reminds me of the day when I found the wardrobe. Do you remember that story?"

"How could I forget?" Jill returned, her eyes twinkling. Lucy had told the story dozens of times, and it was Jill's absolute favorite.

"Tell it again, won't you?" she begged, and Lucy gave in, beginning with, "Once there were four children, whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."

Lucy had practiced it, telling the story to herself so many times, that she could have told it in her sleep. She told of the frightening air raids, of the stern Mrs. Macready, and of that first rainy day in the Professor's house. She described the wardrobe as only an artist can, and Jill closed her eyes, following little Lucy through the soft fur coats and into the snowy wood.

Lucy pulled Jill into the magic of her story, and soon, both of them were meeting Mr. Tumnus, eating the Witch's Turkish Delight, and crying over Aslan's body on the stone table. As Lucy described the stone table cracking, and Aslan raising from the dead, the rain stopped, and a ray of warm sunshine streamed onto the two girls.

Then, they traveled back to the battle, and Jill felt the fear of young Lucy, wondering if the gift of Father Christmas would bring her brother to his feet. Then came the coronation and the joy of those many years that Lucy reigned with her brothers and sister.

Neither of the two girls, so enraptured in their story, noticed Susan enter the room behind them, and sit down in a chair, listening with rapt attention to the tale.

"And then, we saw the lamppost and decided to go into the forest. After a few minutes, we were rubbing our faces not against bristly trees, but against soft fur coats; then we all fell out onto the floor of the spare room, all of us back to our proper ages," Lucy finished, opening her eyes.

Jill did the same, and they were surprised by a sudden movement from a chair in the middle of the room. It was Susan. She stood up, her face white. Lucy wasn't sure what the expression on Susan's face was, but it seemed to be something between sadness and fearful anger.

"Susan!" Jill exclaimed in surprise.

Susan didn't acknowledge her, turning to Lucy and saying, "That was it, wasn't it?"

"What was what?" Lucy asked, puzzled.

"That was the story. The story we made up at the Professor's house. I had forgotten it."

"But it wasn't a story! It was real!" Lucy cried in exasperation.

"No it wasn't, Lucy," Susan declared, her face turning whiter, and looking completely confused. "It couldn't have been real! There are no other worlds!"

"But there are!" Lucy stated calmly, her face determined.

Susan closed her eyes, seemingly trying to get a hold of herself.

"I'm going up to my room," she murmured, glancing at Lucy. "Where are Mum and Dad?"

"They decided to visit Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold," Lucy replied.

Susan turned and went into the kitchen. She fixed herself a cup of tea, and then slowly climbed the stair, heading for her room.

"Susan!" Lucy called from behind her.

"What?" she snarled at her younger sister.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Susan lied, climbing up the last few steps. Once in her room, she sat down on her bed and took a sip from her cup of tea. It was warm and spicy, and it reminded her of something. What was it?

"Oh bother!" she muttered, kicking off her shoes.

They were very uncomfortable, but they were in style. She had paid a fortune for them. Thirty pounds for a pair of shoes. Mum had been furious. Then, Susan stared down into the cup, wondering what was bothering her so badly.

Strangely enough, it was Narnia: that world her brothers and sister were so crazy about. What was it with them? Why wouldn't they grow up? Was she the only one in the family with any sense?

"Am I the only normal one?" she pondered. "Of course, I am the odd one out in the family. I'm the only one not crazy about some weird belief. The others are all about Narnia, and Mum and Dad just got religious last month when Peter took them to that church. They say they're 'Christians' now. Come to think of it, so do the rest of my family."

Narnia. That other world. That was her problem.

Ever since Lucy wandered into the wardrobe and came out with a good story, everything had gone crazy! Of course, the war had been bad enough. When the children had been sent off to the country, their mother hadn't foreseen the effect this would have on Susan. It had changed her, made her more cautious of everything.

She had been so homesick for her home and mother that she had naturally grabbed onto anything that would seem stable, and the first thing to present itself was Narnia. Young Susan, the older Susan realized, needed a place to be herself. And then, just when Susan had a home in Narnia, she was jerked away. After that, she had to get used to living here again. Then, they had gone back to Narnia and then sent back again.

The long and short of it was, Susan was tired of believing in things, only to have her hopes dashed to pieces. She closed her eyes, remembering that horrible day…that day when Aslan had told her and Peter that Narnia was not for them anymore.

--

"Peter, Susan, come with me. I must talk with you alone," Aslan told them.

"What is it, Aslan?" Susan asked once they were in the woods. "Is something wrong?"

The great lion turned to the two children, and fixed them with his great shining eyes. Susan saw something strange in his face, and knew that it was not good news that he was about to tell them.

"My son, my daughter," the great lion began. "The time has come. It is time for you, Sir Peter, and your sister to leave Narnia forever."

"What? Forever?" Peter asked, his tone distressed and stunned. Susan was too shocked to reply; her mouth dropped open.

"Yes. I called you and your brother and sister into this world to teach you many important lessons. But now, you are too old. You must come close to your world, now."

"But Aslan! We shan't see you there! I can't live without seeing you!" Susan cried, her eyes filling with tears. Peter gazed into Aslan's eyes, and saw something that Susan hadn't.

"Are you there?" he asked. "Are you there in our world too?"

"I am!" Aslan roared. "I am in all the worlds. But there I have a different name. You must learn to know me by that name. And by knowing me here for a little while, you may know me better there. Seek me faithfully and I will show myself to you. My children," he paused, "I love you more than you can know. You will come to understand that better in your world, though."

"But Aslan!" Susan sobbed, "What will happen when we die? Will we go to your country if we are in our world?"

"There is a way into my country from all the worlds. My country lies across a deep, dark river which none can cross." At this, the woods grew dark and Susan shivered, almost hearing the stream. Then, a most extraordinary thing happened. She closed her eyes and saw the dark river, the one that no one could pass.

"Oh Aslan!" she cried, clutching Peter's arm. He was shaking too. She knew that he was seeing the same thing as she.

"Fear not," Aslan stated, "for I am the great bridge builder…"

Susan gazed down into the dark water, and saw a beam of wood stretching across the dark stream. It seemed to be growing, expanding, and it slowly crossed the span of the river. When it neared the other edge, it grew two more parts that ended up looking like a crossbeam. When it reached the other edge, Susan looked at it again. It was a bridge in the shape of a cross.

"Now it is time," Aslan declared, and Susan opened her eyes. Right in front of her, gazing steadily into her face, were the great brown eyes of the lion; strong and steadfast, but sad and caring. He breathed on her, and touched her forehead with his tongue.

--

Susan Pevensie opened her eyes again. This time, the lion was not there, and only a dark cup of tea stared her in the face.

"Oh Aslan!" she cried, the tears coming now. She placed the cup carefully on the table, and sobbed into her pillow. After she had cried for fifteen minutes, she sat up and wiped her face clean. She picked up the teacup and took a sip. Then, something clicked.

"Spiced wine…" she murmured. " I remember now! I wonder how on earth Lucy got it!" Then, she put it down.

"Now I'm being silly," she scolded. "It was all just a made up story. I know that Peter and I just imagined the talk with Aslan, but I remember it so vividly. It must be real. But it can't be! It isn't of course."

But something inside Susan wasn't entirely convinced, and throughout the rest of the day, she caught herself thinking about the 'made up story' as if it had really happened.

TBC...