Title: Dragonfly in Amber

Author: FaithfulPureLight (and her sister)

Disclaimer: I wish. I really do! But alas I do not and I am only borrowing them. (Looks over to her lawyer. "Was that good?" lawyer nods. "Yay! Ok on with the introductions and then the story!" sister cheers in the background. I pull out Edmund and Peter and my sister pulls out Lucy and that witch Susan. "We own u as soon as the documents are done remember that") again just kidding!

Rating: For reasons explained later I am rating this a M for mature

Summary: Lucy starts having nightmares that she can't remember. Soon Edmund and Peter are too. What could be so terrible that our heros would willingly forget a memory of Narnia?

Dedication: to all my siblings who offer me comfort and keep me working. And are willing to let me talk their ears off so that u get this story. And to my reviewers. Because we write this story for them.

Finchly, England

Chapter 3: Grow up!

Susan's POV

Marilyn and I stay up late into the night, talking of friends, who's courting whom, and the parties we will be attending later in the month. I feel guilty, for not staying to comfort my sister. I know that nightmare scared her terribly. But my brothers had started to speak of Narnia. I had sat there stiff, unwilling to join in, isolated from them.

We used to be so close to one another. But a rift has opened, and I am not sure how to close it. It would be so easy to pretend that the rift isn't there. But I see it in Lucy's tears, in Peter's disappointed face, and in Edmund's slight frown. There is no going back. No fixing whatever has happened between us. Because fixing that rift involves that stupid game. They act as though I betrayed them, when I stopped believing in ...it.

It's only Peter who acts that way. He tries not to show it, but I think I hurt him. He won't let Edmund and Lucy know. He won't be a grown up young man and tell them that their sister has grown up and stopped believing in make-believe. He thinks it will hurt them to much. But won't it make them see? Make them grow up too?

Marilyn speaks, bringing my attention away from these thoughts and to her. "I must say Susan, when I first met you I thought you would be like your siblings."

I don't understand her words. They seem so foreign to me though I have been speaking english all my life. "What about my them?" I ask. I must sound defensive, for when Marilyn speaks again she does so slowly, as if she's carefully picking the words to use.

"I don't mean anything horrible by it really. Peter is so handsome, Edmund is as dreamy as his brother, and Lucy is a complete doll. Almost every boy in town wants her to be his girl." She pauses for a moment, and I can sense her doubt wether to continue or not. She chooses to continue. "It's just well, they disquiet a lot of people. I mean they look like they should for their age, -if not a little cuter- but you look in their eyes and it's like seeing someone who's twenty six staring out at you from a child's body. And they know things, that a teenager is supposed to just be learning. It's like their going through this age again."

Marilyn stops her rambling, a blush creeping to her cheeks. For the longest time neither of us speak. I am numb, and can't seem to form the words in which to denounce what my friend is claiming. She clears her throat and walks over to the mess of pillows and quilts on the floor.

"Well, good night Susan." I nod, unable to shout my displeasure, to accuse her of the words she spoke of being false. I do not want to acknowledge what I know is right.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

Later this night I lay awake thinking. Marilyn is right about my siblings. I see what she means every time I look into their eyes. They are wiser then they should be. While the rest of their bodies may look the age they should be, the way they act, and the looks in their eyes says it all.

I look at Peter and see what it means, to kill in battle. I look at Edmund and see the justice that England sometimes lacks. He knows what it takes to keep things balanced. I look at Lucy, and I see a bravery that a young girl shouldn't have.

I was like them once. When you looked into my eyes, you could see a gentleness that spoke volumes. But now I see nothing in my eyes that is out of the ordinary. If I could...NO! I will not give into believing in fairy tales. In this particular fairy tale especially.

Aslan had said we could never go back to Narnia. I had sworn that day that any memories would be just that. Only memories, of children's over active imaginations during a terrible war. Nothing more.

I will not cry for silly games. I will be eighteen soon. To old to care what Peter thinks when I walk out of the house, to think he has replaced my father and that I would follow him anywhere. To old to laugh with Edmund about silly pranks he used to play or what gastro vascular means. And I am to old to be Lucy's best friend and talk about silly balls that we never attended. I have real balls to attend now. And I am too old for my siblings to talk me into things such as Narnia again.