Disclaimer: everything in Narnia belongs to C.S. Lewis, some things possibly to Walt Disney Pictures, Walden Media, and 20th Century Fox. The song "Dance 'Round the Memory Tree" was written by Oren Lavie. I'm just borrowing. Not making any money. Don't sue.

Chapter II

Found

By chimère

Words we have said

Grew in my head

Coloured my thoughts

Sang me to bed

What am I doing here?

The Professor's house is empty. The farmer who drove me here from Coombe halt told me as much. Of course, it would be, he is dead too. No one lives here, the windows are shuttered, the doors are locked, the estate is to be sold according to the farmer. But there is not even a sign out.

The house is empty. Just like me, and I feel a strange kinship with the old building. All either of us has are memories.

Lost memories

Grew into trees

Covered the doors

Swallowed the keys

I stare for a long time at the first floor window that for some reason seems to be slightly ajar. It could be reached easily enough climbing on the roof of the vine-overgrown porch.

Come, Susan, where is your sense of adventure? Peter's teasing voice when I doubted that going to hunt the White Stag would be a good idea.

Will this adventure turn out any better? I don't know, but it hardly matters. I discard my high heels and climb.

The first floor hallway is dusty and painfully familiar. The doors of the rooms are not locked, peering through a few I find that some of the furniture and the Professor's books and paintings are gone. Have they been sold already? I walk slowly, remembering. At one point I am certain I can hear small feet running on the floor above my head, and I blink my eyes to clear them.

Winters have come and gone

You know

Winters have come and gone

You know

But I'll meet you young and free

For a dance 'round the memory tree

What am I supposed to do now? Go back to London? Live, work, party, marry, have children, grow old, die? Apparently that's what I'll have to do, although at the moment I'd rather skip the parts in between and go straight to dying.

I shake my head. Such thoughts are not like me. But what is, anymore?

Was that laughter upstairs? Am I going mad?

"What am I supposed to do now?" I ask aloud. "Tell me, Aslan." I don't have the energy for ridicule or cynicism or anger.

What do you want to do, daughter?

Did I imagine that?

"I want to see my family again," I answer, past caring about anything but that.

Silence. Of course I imagined it.

But that is real. Suddenly two pairs of feet thunder down the stairs just a few feet from me and skid to a halt in the hallway. Two frightened pairs of eyes stare at me. A boy and a girl, both about the age Lucy was when we first stumbled into Narnia.

Perhaps I'm not going mad after all. The open window, the sounds of feet and laughter are explained all at once.

"Please don't tell on us," the boy blurts.

"We know we're not supposed to be here," the girl says a bit shakily. "But we haven't broken anything, and it's such a good place to play!"

"Are you going to buy the house?" the boy asks.

And I truly don't know why, of all the things I could say, the words I hear leaving my mouth are, "Come here."

They follow, confused and wary and curious, as I lead them just a few steps to the door of the room that gave our world a ridiculous name. The room I never wanted to see again, up until a few moments ago.

The Wardrobe is gone. What has happened to it? The room is completely empty. I sit down in a patch of sunlight on the dusty floor, not caring about my new skirt, and ask, "Would you like to hear a story?"

The children look at each other. Then the girl says, "Yes, please!" and the boy responds by just plopping down on the floor.

Said I forgot

But I did not

Dreams we have had

Play in my head

"When there were air raids on London, four children, two brothers and two sisters, were sent to this house, so they would be safe. The smallest of them, a girl named Lucy, once wandered into this very room and saw the Wardrobe..."

This way, I won't be the only one who knows. Even if they don't believe. Faith is such a strange thing, anyway. I don't know what I believe.

"The two eldest, Peter and Susan, couldn't believe their eyes when they saw the snowy woods. Their sister had been telling the truth all along..."

Maybe these two will get lucky and stumble into Narnia some day. Will you let them, Aslan? You were real, weren't you? Are you still? Can I believe in you? Will you let them come instead of me? They could... they could send my love to my brothers and sister.

The Narnia you knew is no more, child.

I forget what I was going to say next.

"What's wrong?" the girl asks.

I give myself a little shake. "Nothing." I try to smile. "So, as I was saying, Edmund, who was resentful and angry at the way his siblings treated him, left without anyone noticing to find the castle of the one he thought was the Queen of Narnia..."

I never even realised until now that I had thought, or at least hoped, that my siblings would be in Narnia now. It would be paradise for them, the paradise they so richly deserved.

I would never have imagined the sudden certainty that Narnia is not only changed, but completely destroyed. Aslan? Are you really here? Is Narnia really... gone?

Yes.

But then... what about Peter and Edmund and Lucy? Are they simply gone, too?

No. There is compassion in that single word.

Where are they? Are they safe? Are they happy?

They are with me, daughter of Eve.

I don't know what I'm thinking or feeling anymore. Aslan, please. I don't know if I believe in you, but I would do anything for them to be... happy. And together. And in Narnia. They deserve it. They deserve our Golden Age in Narnia. Please.

And you do not deserve it? Or do not want to deserve it?

I don't know what the Lion, if it's really him, means. "At night, Lucy was woken by Aslan walking past the tent she shared with Susan. Lucy loved Aslan and had been worried for him ever since the White Witch had left..."

My audience is watching me with rapt eyes. The sunlight has moved from me to them, shining on their blond hair. Are they brother and sister?

"So Peter realised that he would have to lead the army, as his brother had said. He was only thirteen, but he accepted this responsibility..."

Let them be happy. Even if I will never see them again, let them be together and happy. I would do anything. Aslan, what do you want me to do?

"It was Edmund who saved Peter's life, attacking the Witch and destroying her wand. But the Witch stabbed him with the broken wand, and he would have died if it hadn't been for Lucy's cordial. So Edmund redeemed himself, and although he had started as a traitor, there was never a more faithful Narnian in the days to come..."

You are lost, daughter.

"And the Four Sovereigns were crowned in the castle of Cair Paravel by Aslan himself."

"And then they ruled the country together?" the girl asks breathlessly.

"They ruled together for fifteen years. But then one day the four of them went hunting for a White Stag. And in the woods they suddenly found a lamppost. They had almost forgotten about it, but they remembered something, like a dream of a dream, and when they went to look around, they stumbled back through the same Wardrobe, and were children again."

Did we believe

The cry of the leaves?

Did we regret?

Would we forget?

Both the boy and the girl make a disappointed noise. "That's not fair!" the boy exclaims.

"Isn't it? Do you think the story would be just as beautiful if it did not have such an ending?"

"Yes!" they intone in unison.

I smile. "I thought so too, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe things are more beautiful if they're also a little sad."

The children are still looking at me with wide eyes. "That was the best story I've ever heard!" the boy says, and the girl nods enthusiastically.

My smile grows wider. "It's more than that, actually. But shouldn't the two of you be getting home now?"

They exchange a guilty look, but are still reluctant to get on their feet. I realise I don't know their names, and ask.

"Amy," says the girl, and "Michael," the boy.

"Amy and Michael, I won't tell anyone you were here," I assure them. "Now hurry home, or your parents will worry."

"We'll remember this story," Amy promises.

My smile is a little tremulous. "Good."

The door closes, and I am alone again in the room where it all began. Perhaps I should buy this estate. It suits better for entertaining children than hosting parties, but that doesn't bother me anymore.

Winters have come and gone

You know

Winters have come and gone

You know

But I'll meet you young and free

For a dance 'round the memory tree

And then I am finally forced to believe that I am no longer alone. The presence in the room is too much even for my stubbornness to ignore.

Queen Susan the Gentle, do you want to be found?

I am trembling.

"Yes," I whisper.