Author's note: This piece is strictly movieverse. And please pardon the fact that this is only a fragment of an aged plot bunny. There are elements I don't get into here, so there are a couple of gaps in the narrative.
Was not her name Susan?
The revelation stunned Arthur. Surely he had not approached the wrong girl…. No, he had seen her eyes – they merely saw him rather than looked at him, as they had in the past. Arthur knew her eyes. Bewilderingly, those eyes did not know him.
Her name was Susan. He knew it. She knew it. The familiar third party who ran up to her knew it. So why had she denied it? Or was the name she gave like Arthur's own: a name better suited to this setting? Arthur didn't have a chance to ask: her eyes flicked to him, then both girls were gone. Perhaps it was just as well, what with the way his heart still tripped on its own beating. Strange, he reflected, that he had never felt like this in simply talking with her before.
The newsstand owner cleared his throat suggestively. Arthur fished in his pocket for a penny to pay for the paper in his hand, then scuttled a few paces away with his purchase and his bags. He opened the paper to block his view of the tube station, but the words he read did nothing to distract his thoughts from returning to his befuddlement.
Did she not recognize him? The spectacles were a recent development, after all. Or was she simply unable to place him? If he himself had doubted – for a moment – her identity, surely she could be allowed a grace as well… especially because she would not have expected to see him here. Or… could it be that she did not remember him at all? Arthur exhaled. He had been warned, but… please let it not be so.
But if his presence here was strange to her, then so was her manner. Gone was the gentle openness that had put him at ease, the friendly warmth that had drawn him out of secluded corners and hidden alcoves, the simple affection for even an acquaintance barely met. Her eye contact was brief and hurried. Her charming smile bore its familiar shape, but expressed little more than a superficial politeness. Strangest of all, she looked… lonely and keen to keep it that way. Arthur grimaced. That much was familiar, but only in the reverse.
The train would arrive soon, and enough time would have passed that he could safely enter the tube station without appearing to have followed her. He wasn't following her, of course. Not really. Not when Hendon House and St Finbar's lay in the same direction. Hopefully the passage of time would convince her of the same. Arthur discarded his useless paper and headed across the street, down the stairs, and into the sea of schoolchildren.
The train arrived presently and, as it happened, Arthur did see her again – all four of them at once, actually. To his surprise, much of what he had sought in her face just a short while ago had returned: a sort of wonder and understated joy seemed to crown her head. She still did not recognize him, but the veneer of surface behaviour had given way to something deeper and thoughtful.
She was Susan. He knew it. Hope burned a little brighter within him.
Arthur stepped onto the train, but turned when he realized the four were not on his heels. "Aren't you coming, Phyllis?"
Here in England, they were Phyllis and Arthur. Maybe someday, when the time was right, she would remember that back home, they were Queen Susan of Narnia and Lord Ennis of Galma. He had only to wait.
Prompt: Union. Whether two people, two countries, two pieces of metal, or something else entirely, write about the joining of two.
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