A/N: Thanks to the five people who reviewed and the 75 others who (I hoped) read the story. I'm not going to keep you waiting. Here are two more chapters. To michelline, good point about Susan not asking Aslan about her children in Prince Caspian, that's one indication that they don't exist. But there is a possibility that she did ask only C.S. Lewis didn't write it(there's a scene in Prince Caspian where Aslan said something only to Peter and Susan, but it wasn't revealed to Lucy and Edmund. Susan had that opportunity to ask).

Chapter Two

Susan Remembers

Susan woke to the ringing of her doorbell. She got up from where she lay, half curled on the couch where she had fallen asleep the night before. She couldn't remember how many times she had fallen asleep like this on her couch, her eyes drowned with tears. It had been a two weeks since the railway accident, but her grief had not died. Every night she cried out until she was exhausted and she would wake up and cry again. Often, she would forget even to eat until the rumblings of her stomach grew too violent for her to ignore or visitors would come to shove food at her while mumbling their condolences.

In the last three days, she hadn't heard from any visitors and she had hoped she would have seen the last of them. Apparently, it wasn't so as the doorbell grew more insistent. She grudgingly opened the door.

"Dear heavens, child, you look a fright," greeted an old lady in a brown wool coat and a matching hat. It was her Aunt Enid from her father's side, and behind her were three other women, her older cousins Eunice and Esther and a young girl she didn't recognize. They waited no further invitation to come in and pranced into the living room directly.

"Oh what a state!" gasped Esther at the mess in the room. There were boxes strewn everywhere and the coffee table was loaded with an assortment of items of the Pevensie family that Susan had meant to put away. Every day, Susan made an attempt to put to order all her family's possessions, but halfway through, Susan always found some item that could make her burst into tears for hours so she couldn't do much progress.

"Good thing we brought Marie along to clean up," said Eunice. "Susan darling, we're lending the maid to you. The younger girl, who Susan figured was Marie was already picking up some of the items from the coffee table and tossing them into one of the boxes she found. Aunt Enid was in the kitchen making tea.

Esther sat on the couch then immediately got up again and picked up a piece of white fabric that she sat on. She held it up by the tips of her fingers as if it was infectious and wrinkled her nose at it distastefully. "Oh Susan dear, what do you keep in here? You ought to throw these out."

Susan eyed the garment and saw that it was Peter's favorite old shirt that she had been crying over the night before. She snatched it from her cousin's hands and clutched it to her chest. She was about to protest when the maid picked up something on the floor and carelessly tossed it into the box, oblivious to the sound of its cracking. Susan knew immediately it was part of Edmund's toy train.

"Leave those alone!" she shouted at the maid.

"Susan darling," Esther quickly said, clutching her arm. "I am sure she meant no harm. Do be careful Marie," she admonished the maid lightly before leading Susan to sit on the couch. Aunt Enid finally came in with a tea tray, some cups and a few leftover biscuits she found in the cupboard.

"Now, now dear, drink up," muttered Aunt Enid while pushing her a cup. Susan reluctantly obeyed though she held on to Peter's shirt with one hand, as if afraid Esther would take it from her and have it thrown out.

Aunt Enid, Esther and Eunice began chatting, though Susan tuned out most of what they said. It was all local gossip that Susan used to be so fond of, but now she found she had no interest.

"The luncheon fund-raising for the Sisters of Charity Orphanage this afternoon, you must come, Susan…"

"What?" Susan asked.

"Why of course, she must go," chirped Eunice. "Oh, Susan it's been ages since you've been to these social functions. And you mustn't miss this. The Andrews are hosting."

"I don't feel quite up to it," Susan said.

"Oh nonsense," said Aunt Enid. "It is a good cause and it will do you some good to get out. I insist. Let me find you a good dress and Esther will do your hair. It's not good for a young girl such as yourself to be all alone and moping in the house all day."

Susan would have preferred if they left her alone, but she was too tired to argue. Reluctantly, she let them dress her but when it was time to put on make up, Susan laid a hand down.

"Oh don't be silly Susan," said Esther. "This is an important function and you look so pale as it is. There are several worthy young men there and you'll not catch the eye of anyone looking like a wretched ghost."

Susan boiled at this remark. She had just lost her entire family and all her cousins could think of was finding her a beau.

"I'd rather be a wretched ghost! I want to be dead like my whole family! Just leave me alone, I don't care about your stupid luncheon! I won't go! I want to stay here until I die!"

"Oh dear, dear!" cried Aunt Enid, soothingly hugging her. "You don't mean that." She shot her daughter a reprimanding look and muttered assurances to Susan that they meant no offense. Then she went on and on about how this function was important for those poor orphans. In the end, Susan agreed to go, but without a trace of make up.

When they arrived, the orphanage was already full of people, mingling and talking among themselves. Susan used to adore gatherings like these, but now she had no patience for it. She slipped to one side and found a few children sitting in one corner by the wall in their starched shirts (obviously worn only for this occasion) and looking shyly at the grown-ups talking among themselves. Only the nuns who took care of them seemed to pay any bit of attention to the children. All the other guests had clustered on the groups talking among themselves about the latest gossip in the social scene. Susan realized the hypocrisy of it all. These people who have pledged to help the orphans with their money, didn't even bother to know their beneficiaries. It was all just for show.

The children looked bored and raring to go out and play, but the stern warnings of the sisters that they remain in their corner and behave themselves had them glued silently to their seats. Susan noticed a blonde boy staring at her as if inviting her to sit on the empty chair next to him. She did so and he mustered a smile.

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"David," he replied.

She didn't know why but the name struck something in her.

"And how old are you?" she asked.

"Nine, ma'am." Again, a shiver ran through her.

"Tell me a story," the boy said boldly.

Susan stared at him for a full minute. His eyes were begging her to rescue him from boredom and she knew she had to oblige him.

"What kind of story?" she asked.

"A nice one please, with adventure and magic."

"Well… I really don't know…"

"Please…" the boy begged.

Susan racked her brain but suddenly the words came tumbling out of her mouth. "Once there were four children who found another world through a magical wardrobe…" And she went on, suddenly remembering the stories she and her siblings used to make up. But as she continued she began to remember so much more detail, as if they were real and she had been there herself. She told it all with such a passion that soon the other children had crowded around her, eager to hear her story. She was just in the part where Edmund had run off to betray them to the White Witch, when she was interrupted by Aunt Enid's call.

"Oh there you are," Susan everyone's going off to lunch."

The children looked disappointed.

"Oh no thank you, Aunt Enid. I'll catch up."

"But there's someone who's eager to meet you—"

"I'll catch up," Susan dismissed. "I need to finish a story." And she ignored her bewildered aunt and went back to tell how the White Witch was defeated and how the four children were crowned as Kings and Queens of Narnia by the wonderful lion Aslan. By the time it was over, the luncheon party had already thinned out and Aunt Enid and her daughters were waiting for her with disapproving looks.

But Susan had taken no notice of them and was eagerly saying goodbye to her new little friends who begged her to come back and tell them more stories. Susan promised that she would.

"What's your name?" It was the little boy David who asked just as she turned to leave.

"Susan," she replied.

"Like Queen Susan?" he asked.

Susan paused. The entire story she just told just caught up to her and a hundred memories flooded, though some were still hazy. But she knew she would remember them all, if she could just keep telling her stories. She resolved to be back to these children soon to recover them all. For now she was sure of at least one thing.

"Yes, I'm Queen Susan of Narnia," she declared.