Hello, it's been a long time since I've posted anything here! Mostly I'm just doing this because while these fills all performed well over on Dreamwidth, the Narnia fandom is not so strong on AO3, so I want to see how they'd do on here.

Pairings: Susan/Male OC, Susan/Female OC

Content Warnings: Canonical major character death, allusions to mental health issues


Chapter One: You're going to carry that weight a long time


1. There is only their mother to see them off from the train station, but Susan is not surprised; most of their school friends have already been evacuated and have already said their goodbyes. There is an emptiness, however, where Laura should have been-Laura who ran faster than any of the boys, Laura who laughed at even the silliest jokes, Laura who pressed a kiss to Susan's cheek after Janice poured paint on Susan's dress and sneered. Kind, lovely Laura, whose house disappeared into a crater after the bombing one night.

Let Peter and Edmund grumble about being sent away; Susan is glad to be leaving London and only hopes the hole in her heart remains here as she travels to the countryside.

2. Lucy's cordial can't save everyone after the battle is done; the dying are spread too far for even the most lionhearted girl to reach them all. That's what Susan reminds herself as she cups the handful of petals left behind as Sinoe disappears from her grasp, the spear in her belly falling with a dull thump against the grass. She'd only just got the epimeliad's head onto her lap when she breathed her last without a single word passed between them. She remembers Laura, bright and smiling, and remembers whispering, soothing Sinoe, and wonders that if maybe she could have just gotten to either of them sooner, then maybe this emptiness wouldn't be chewing away at her insides.

3. They all come tumbling out of the wardrobe, like falling ninepins; Susan needs a moment to collect herself. She turns and looks back at the wardrobe and thinks about how Mister Tumnus is going to be sitting down to the tea party she'd invited him to and wonder where they were. She thinks about Owain, who was the best dancer in the court, who had kissed her so sweetly, who she whispered to Lucy about in a fit of girlish glee because if there was any man she would take as husband, then it had to be him. She thinks about all the people who are going to be wondering just where they are right about now and she feels the emptiness yawning open inside her again.

4. In spite of the fact that she did wave and wish them well, Susan still feels cheated and empty when she gets the phone call of the derailing, the most horrific train crash in recent memory they say. She got to kiss Edmund and Lucy's cheeks, give Peter's hand a passing squeeze, and hugged her parents before they left, but as she sits at the funeral, she wants to wrench the coffins open and demand something more. But there's only this-five coffins, one of which only really contains pieces, and that sticks in her craw too-and the emptiness.

One would think she would be used to this, but that's a foolish thought, because it can never be enough.

5. The emptiness aches, but Susan grows and grows around it, like a wound finally scabbing over. She picks up a brush and her lipstick, goes into business with a friend of hers who has a camera, and gets on with her life. Sometimes she thinks about her brushes, her tools, thinks about how Jill and Polly once sneered at them, and that pain is still there; but she has grown, if only in a crooked way, and she can put the hurt behind her.

It's not enough, but it will do.

6. It's funny, the things that are helpful. It's not the goodbyes she does get, it's not the promises to stay and stay safe, it's not even the hellos. It's this: the quiet of the morning in the bedroom while London shakes itself awake, the warmth on the other side of the bed as she reaches over and grabs onto Grace's nightgown, even the foul taste of Grace's morning breath.

The emptiness is always there, but it feels a little smaller in those moments.

7. With Grace's hand in her own, the emptiness is bearable. She has a tether as she walks in this world while the decades roll on; she feels safe and anchored, even when she's alone.

Complacent, the emptiness ambushes her on the morning she rolled over and found Grace's hand cold.

8. Grace is in the ground, near the plot of Susan's family because Susan knows they would have welcomed her in life, so she knows they will do so in death. Susan is old now, has been for a long time, so she knows this hole inside her as near as a friend, like it is just another mourner here at the funeral. It's funny, but maybe it's tolerable now because this is just one more funeral, one more missed goodbye.

9. But maybe this is the truth: Susan's own goodbye is not long in waiting. One day, she falls in the garden; she's dead not long after hitting the ground, and she knows no pain. More than that, though, she knows no fear-this time, she didn't miss the goodbye.