Hi! Thanks for all your reviews so far! They've been giving me just the right push to keep updating :)

So in this chapter we find out more about the elusive James and what happened between him and Susan. It was meant to be longer but I guess there's a word/size limit for stories? Changed the rating to M for some adult themes in the following chapters.

Hope you guys like it!

'Pick one. My treat.'

Susan stared up at James, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'No! They're all far too expensive.'

He laughed and the scar on his cheek, the one many assumed was a dimple, grew more prominent. 'Su, pick whichever ones you want and I'll buy it for you.'

'You'll waste your hard-earned money on flowers?' Susan frowned at the exorbitant price displayed clearly on the cards.

'Yes, Miss Pevensie. My hard-earned money,' he replied, his tone a combination of sarcasm and charm that never failed to start a fluttering in her stomach.

'Fine. Your loss, my gain,' she replied, sauntering past him towards a display of exotic orchids. Her hat slipped and James caught it deftly, placing it on her head with a disarming grin. The laughter in his raw umber eyes disappeared as she held his gaze fractionally longer than she usually did.

'Have I told you how beautiful you look today?' he whispered, still holding on to her hat.

She smiled shyly and ignored the small flare of guilt in her gut. Now was not the time to think about another pair of dark brown eyes. 'Yes, but you're welcome to tell me again.'

He held her hands, eclipsing them easily in his large ones, and tenderly brushed his lips across her knuckles. 'You look breathtakingly beautiful today, Miss Pevensie,' he whispered. He leaned down, eyes closed in anticipation before Susan gently rested her hands on his chest. His breath escaped in a frustrated hiss.

'Not here,' she whispered, turning away from him in embarrassment. 'People will see.' Now was definitely not the time to recall a different kiss in a different time with a very different man.

'Let them see,' he retorted, catching her wrist in his steel grip. He tugged her around forcefully, gripping her chin in his other hand, and Susan stumbled on her heeled boots.

'James, stop!' She pushed him away, eyes wide with shock and anger. 'What is the matter with you?'

His eyes flared with disbelief and resentment and Susan recoiled, preparing to knee him where it hurts, the way Peter taught her with a demonstration on poor Ed. She could feel her neck burning with embarrassment as market-goers eyed them openly with disapproval. Eventually, noticing the looks they were beginning to attract, he exhaled heavily and massaged his temples in an attempt to regain his composure. 'Forgive me, my dear,' he murmured after several heavy beats of silence passed between them. 'I don't know what came over me.' When he raised his head to meet her eyes, his face was pale and stretched taut with exhaustion.

Taken aback by the look of pure fatigue on his visage, Susan immediately forgot their brief spat. 'We can go back if you're not feeling well,' she suggested gently.

'No, I'm fine.' He attempted a weak smile. 'Come.' He offered her his arm, once again the very picture of a gentleman. Susan fought the crawling revulsion and nagging fear she felt at his touch and accepted his proffered arm. 'Let me apologize by buying out the entire market for you, darling.'

'How long is your furlough?'

'Two weeks.' James plucked a small daisy from the earth and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger.

Susan gazed at his profile that was outlined by the setting sun. He was an undeniably handsome man, with those vaguely Hispanic features that endeared him to women and men alike. He'd been a charming little boy and grew up into a popular man, never spending time with just one lady on his arm. Many in the neighbourhood often wondered, much to Susan's annoyance, how such a fine-looking and admired boy as him could ever be attracted to the oddly reclusive Miss Susan Pevensie. He's James Watts! He could have anyone, and while they grudgingly admitted that Susan was beautiful, a classic English rose, she doesn't seem like she has much to say, that poor girl! Always on her own, sitting quietly, reading. No, that Watts boy could certainly do better than fall in love with her.

And in love with her, he was. In the weeks before he openly courted her, he often dropped by the Pevensie family home, especially when Susan was visiting from university. He became fast friends with Peter, both boys sharing the same deep-seated love for motor cars, and Susan began seeing him everywhere. She'd leave the grocers and he would be there, taking the heavy bags from her arms and walking her home. She'd go to the library and he'd come in moments later, choosing a book at random and sitting several tables away from her, eyeing her surreptitiously as she read. He began to work up the courage to talk to her after the third grocers encounter.

At first, she responded to his questions in monosyllables, intent on rejecting yet another man, but something about his handsome tanned face and his dark hair made her cautiously drop her guard. Perhaps he was sent for me. Perhaps this is a sign that I should forget. She accepted his invitation to dinner the third time he asked, much to James' amusement.

Third time's the charm, he often quipped.

Her family had been secretly relieved that Susan was finally leaving her shell. She knew her siblings had been concerned when they would find her sitting on her bed, her eyes glazed as she recalled a fast-disappearing memory of a faraway land. His name and her memory of him began to hurt less as she made new ones with this other man who worshipped the ground she walked on.

'Congratulations on your graduation,' James said, bringing her crashing back to the park. 'Peter showed me a photograph. I'm proud of you.'

'Thank you.' Say it, Susan. Now.

'Here.' He held out a small box wrapped in rough brown paper. 'For you.' He was smiling expectantly, waiting for her to unwrap the box. Keeping her face free of any disapproval, Susan carefully tore off the paper and gazed at the pale blue box.

'If it's too expensive, I'm returning it,' she warned him.

'Can't. The shop closed down for good.'

'I'll pawn it,' Susan retorted, fiddling with the box. She had the sinking feeling that if she accepted his gift, she wouldn't be able to say what she came out here to say. Any woman would feel proud to receive gifts from James Watts, but all his gifts to her made her feel forcefully bound to him. As though he owned a bit more of her with every present. 'James, I can't,' she blurted out.

He raised one eyebrow, the one with the scar from a stupid barracks brawl. 'Susan, dear. It's for you.'

'No, no.' She thrust the box at him, swallowing nervously when he simply stared at her without taking the box. Quickly, she placed the box on the ground between them. 'James, I can't do this.'

'Do what, exactly?' She recognised the creeping anger in his voice, one that seemed to make an appearance even more so lately since he joined His Majesty's Armed Forces.

Say it, Susan. She looked at him squarely in the eyes. 'We have to stop seeing each other.'

It was like a battle between them of who could hold the other's gaze for the longest time. Susan could feel her head growing light at the thick tension between them. Her palms felt clammy with sweat and she resisted the urge to wipe them on her dress. He'd notice and he'd pounce on that.

When had she stopped seeing James as a man and more as a dangerous predator? She supposed the signs were always there, the bruising grips, the sudden lashes of rage and explosive outbursts that could be triggered by the most trivial comments. The mark on her jaw when he'd been upset with her.

I tripped, she explained to her family. I was careless and I didn't watch my step. She'd smile, as if her clumsiness was amusing. No one questioned her because she was Susan.

She remembered his tears, those heartbreaking tears streaming down his face when she shrank away from him in fear. He'd been so miserable, begging for her forgiveness on his knees, and Susan vowed to hold on to him. She was determined to love this broken man, this person whom she was convinced was sent especially for her. She stupidly believed she could control him. Change him, even. She is, after all, a Queen of Narnia.

Was, a small voice mocked her.

He looked away first, looking down at the box. 'Is it...is it because of what I did?' he whispered. She saw him slump forwards dejectedly, like a puppy who'd been kicked far too many times. 'Because I can change, Su. I'm trying, I really am and every time I look at you and see what I did to your beautiful face...' He reached out to touch the yellowing bruise and Susan flinched. 'Please, Susan. Don't do this.'

'I'm sorry, James.'

'Is it another bloke?' His eyes darkened and she eyed his clenched fists.

'No, of course not-'

'Because I distinctly remember Peter saying something about another man you were hung up about,' he spat.

'Why would he say that?'

'He was drunk, Susan, and I asked him about you,' he replied impatiently. 'He told me you had to leave this man and your heart was broken and he blathered on about how you spent your days alone, no doubt pining for this man.'

'It's not because of another man, James.' Susan could feel her patience wearing thin.

'Tell me honestly, Su. I deserve at least that.' James leaned forward so she had no escape from his sharp gaze. 'Was there another man?'

'There was,' Susan answered. 'But it was before you came along. He's likely to have forgotten all about me.'

His lips, the ones that she'd often seen curled up into a beautiful smile, twisted into a jeering sneer. 'But you haven't forgotten all about him, have you?'

No. No, I haven't. I still lie in bed at night thinking about him. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep because the memories are too painful to bear alone. 'I'm sorry, James, but we can't be together anymore.' She gazed down at the simple woven bracelet he gave her during the honeymoon of their relationship. 'Would you like your things back?'

He stared at her in disbelief, as if expecting her to grin at any time and say it was all a joke. 'No, keep them,' he finally murmured. Susan looked up, fully expecting another outpouring of anger, but he simply looked disappointed and exhausted. He bent down and picked up the box. 'Take this, too.'

'I can't-'

'It's meant for you,' he interrupted. 'Su, I hope…I hope we can still be friends after this.'

She smiled at him sadly. Another one gone.