Disclaimer: None of the dialogue, characters, or plot is mine. Look at BrokenKesteral. Or C.S. Lewis. (No but seriously do, they're both great writers - one of whom graciously posts her work for free on this very site, so go read it!)

Also, this chapter is brought to you by friendship, perseverance, and the wonderful BrokenKesteral's beta'ing, who is usually right, even if it took me six months before I both saw it and had the energy to fix it.

Chapter 3

The hug lasted for a long time.

It was healing, something of the closeness filling him with warmth. A physical act representing the affection they held for each other. Eventually they all stepped back, ready to face the problems at hand together.

"I have not been called a young man by a magical being in quite some time," commented Peter wryly, his face holding traces of thoughtfulness as he considered Susan. "Interesting company you keep these days, Su."

"And interesting places you travel to," Edmund added before he could stop himself. Now the cogs had begun to grind in his mind, it was impossible to stop them. Besides, he could ask about this, right? He glanced at his elder (the age gap between them was much more significant now, wasn't it?) sister, but her narrowed gaze was on Peter.

Without missing a beat, she told him, "I have always kept interesting company, my king. Whether they were interesting to you is of no consequence."

A laugh burst forth from him unbidden. He had missed trading witty retorts with her – at least ones which held no real bite.

"I think this companion is of interest to all of us," said Lucy, gazing around at all of them with a cheeky smile, her spark of joy effervescent and contagious. "He seems…a bit like Trumpkin."

Edmund smiled, remembering the grouchy dwarf. His trust had been hard-earned, but once earned, his loyalty had been steadfast.

"If Trumpkin believed himself a higher authority than us, perhaps," Susan sighed, the slightest edge of exasperation in her tone. Ah, so that must be what he's usually like then. What an odd way to treat a friend!
"He did at the beginning," Edmund reminded them. "Remember, Peter? We had to challenge him to two separate duels and Lucy had to heal his shoulder with her cordial before he accepted our authority." It really had been a lot of work convincing the DLF that they really were who they said they were – and he still hadn't believed in Aslan until the Lion had literally roared in the poor dwarf's face! Smiling at the fond memories, Edmund pondered the similarities to Christ – it had been exhausting, having to prove who you were to someone absolutely determined not to believe you. 'He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognise him', John 1, Edmund recalled. How odd, to have someone you know so intimately not recognise you. How painful. He considered Susan anew.

"Would your Gentle Highness permit us to challenge this authoritarian to duels as well, to teach him of your authority?" Peter asked, the twinkle in his eye belying his formal tone. "And perhaps Lucy could heal his hurts afterwards, with our own English medicine."

Edmund frowned thoughtfully. He would be the first – well, the second or third, he corrected himself, glancing at Peter and Lucy – to defend his sister's honour, but he hardly thought it necessary in this instance. They were not in Narnia, after all, and while they might always be kings and queens of Narnia, in England they had only the authority of a university student, a schoolboy, and a schoolgirl. Besides, 'English medicine' might not do much against a magical being outside of time and space.

"He's better left alone; he comes back happier," Susan told them. "And this is a problem made for him; he will enjoy the challenge. We should face our own challenges – where am I to stay?"

All three of them too a breath to respond, but Lucy got there first.

"In your own room," she said for them and really, what a silly question to have to ask at all, why would she ask it? "We can tell Mum you had a headache and didn't feel well, but that I took care of you. She'll be tired enough coming back from Carla's that she'll accept that, at least for tonight."
Well, at least it won't be me lying this time, he thought, though his heart hurt a little at all the deception they were weaving. In the end it fell on all three of them, no matter who was doing the talking. The Susan from their time had no problem lying – all three of them had caught her at it at one time or another, though didn't often call it out. Edmund wondered if this Susan had lied in order to go on her journeys, or if no time passed, much like their adventures in Narnia? But who would she lie to? Her words, "And I am alone," echoed back to him.

"Where would you like to stay?" He asked quietly, watching her face closely. Sometimes Susan didn't ask for what she wanted, for all sorts of imagined reasons which in the end amounted to nothing but resentment, even in Narnia.

"Lucy," Susan began, hesitating, and then with a growing confidence which surprised Edmund, "I know I never did this when I was twenty, but please – can I stay with you?"

"Of course!" It was like she's swallowed the sun, so fierce was Lucy's joy. Edmund felt his heart and the corners of his mouth lift in response. This, this is how it should be. How I'd like it to be. Oh Aslan, make it so.
Peter smiled too, but his gaze was fixed on Susan, and Edmund could see concern there. Their sister had a faraway look in her eyes, as if grey clouds were threatening to ruin her perfectly planned picnic (convincing her that it hadn't been her fault had been tricky). It was baffling. One moment she had been smiling at Lucy, filled with love and joy, and the next it was like…well, it was like she expected it all to end at any moment. But isn't it? Once her grumpy friend figures out how to swap her back with her past self she'll leave and – Edmund frowned, not wanting to finish that thought.

"I'll bring tea to Lucy's room," Peter offered, beginning to lead his sister inside. Edmund and Lucy followed, staying close. Susan was trembling. Since Lucy seemed to have it all in hand, and really, Lucy had always been much better at this sort of thing than Edmund, he decided to help Peter make the tea.

"You had better not make it like you did during exams last term," he directed with a smile, remembering the time he'd accidently poured a cup from the teapot the morning after Peter had used it to stay up cramming the night before. "If she drinks that, forget Lucy's 'English medicine'; you'll be carrying her to the hospital. I nearly died myself, if you'll remember."

Peter didn't respond, just set about reboilling the kettle. There was clearly something weighing on him. Edmund decided to let him brew on it. He smiled to himself at the pun, but decided not to share it out loud. He grabbed Susan's favourite mug from the hooks under the kitchen cupboard and set it down on the bench. Is this still her favourite mug? Her tastes have changed – she knows what she used to like, but I can't tell if that's the same as what she likes now.

Peter carefully set a teabag inside the mug. They lent against the bench as the sound of the gas stove turned into the dull roar of boiling water. The kettle began to whistle, jetting steam from its spout, and Edmund flicked off the gas as Peter used a potholder to move the kettle off the stovetop.

"What do you think happened to us?"

Edmund didn't answer immediately; it was a complex question. He grabbed the sugar and began measuring a few teaspoons into the brew. She'd always liked three spoons of sugar (or one cube). He hesitated mid-stir, wondering if, like her personality now, she preferred it closer to the natural taste rather than artificially sweetened. Ah well, too late now.

"I've concluded that it isn't for us to know," he answered his brother, finally. "And not for lack of wondering."

"But she seems to…" Peter lowered his voice further, even as it came out troubled and breaking, "she seems so broken."

Edmund held the empty glass milk bottle, staring at the dregs rolling around the bottom. Out of habit, he took it to the sink and began to wash and dry the thing. It would need to be put out in the morning.

"Yes," he said simply, thinking back to a time when his mistakes had been paid for in blood. He had felt broken too. He imagined he'd have felt more so if he had been alone. Or if anything had happened to his siblings as a result of his actions…he broke off his pondering in order to give Peter a better answer – he was needed. Turning to look directly at his brother, he held Peter's gaze as he said, "She's faced a lot of hard truths. Sometimes the truth breaks us, but it also sets us free. Susan is stronger now, too. Wiser. Kinder."

Peter turned to fuss with the tea, his expression unreadable.

Edmund sighed. "That's not it, is it? There's something else eating at you."

There was another long pause.

"Do you think it's our fault?" A heavy burden of guilt came along with the question. Peter still wasn't looking at him. Do you think this is my fault, he means, Edmund thought.

"I don't see how-" Edmund cut himself off, thinking. Then again, perhaps it could be. "I don't know," he admitted, "What makes you think it could be?"

"It's just…when we were younger, the first time, and you – well, you went to the Witch, the longer we went on, the longer I had this feeling that it wasn't all your fault. I'd been too hard on you, Susan too. You had to face a hard truth before it was made right again, but…" Peter trailed off, staring into the mug of tea.

Edmund blinked.

"Hold up. You think that on some level my actions were your fault?"

"Well, not exactly-"

"And you think the Susan of our time is behaving like this because we drove her to it? So, her brokenness now is somehow our fault? And if we behave better now, she might never have to be broken?" Edmund was putting the pieces together rapidly and he did not like the picture. But he paused, thinking. What if he's right? What if we could change things? Then he thought about his own hard truths.

"Peter, can you think of any way we have wronged her? Any time we have behaved ungraciously? Any time we have not made peace, even at cost to ourselves?"

Peter thought. "Well, no, but –"

"Do you trust Aslan?" His gaze sharpened, like the shine of Rhindon held at the ready.

"Always."

"Then trust she is, and has always been, in His paws."

Peter thought for a moment, then nodded. He held Edmund's gaze this time. "Whatever is, whatever has been, whatever will be…His plans are perfect."

"For his glory and our good."

"Amen and Amen."

Edmund smiled, then looked down at the tea. "Susan may be strong, but not as strong as that tea will be. Pull out the bag before you poison her!"

Peter hastily removed it, peering at the mug. "It's not so bad," he mumbled, "I'd drink that."

"Yes, and you choosing to shorten your life expectancy by decades is your decision – it's not about whether you'd drink it and survived, it's about whether Susan will."

Peter sighed, tipping the over-steeped tea into another mug, replacing the tea bag, and pouring more hot water over it. He sipped from the fresh mug. "There is nothing wrong with this tea – apart from the fact you sweetened it too much. It's just strong black tea."

"There's black, and then there's the way you usually drink it, which would make the hair fall off a cat." Edmund grinned. Peter grinned back.

"Have you ever tried getting a cat to drink tea?"

"No, because cats are smart enough not to poison themselves."

Lucy's room was the same state they'd left it in.

Clothes and belongings were flung all over the place in preparation for the coming school term. Art supplies still strewn over the desk. And on the bed, Susan and Lucy, in the exact same position as they had been five minutes ago.

Lucy's head turned towards them, eyes wide and brimming with concern.

Peter and Edmund immediately got the message.

Peter placed the mug into still-trembling fingers, holding his hands around hers until he was sure she had it.

"Should we do anything?" he asked, still looking at Susan, but Edmund knew the words were directed at him and Lucy. Lucy had been sitting here probably asking herself the same thing for the last five minutes, but Edmund knew the best thing they could do was be present. And love her.

"Give her a moment," he quietly advised, "It is a difficult thing to go from being alone to being loved. And it is a harder thing to accept the forgiveness that allows for such a gift." His mind went back to mulling over events. Journeys. The Merlion. Now where had he heard that before? Merlin? The Knights of the Round Table. King Arthur. Was that who she had been sent –

"I wish Aslan were here," Lucy murmured, interrupting his line of thought. It was for the best, he decided. He probably wasn't supposed to know that. He thought on Lucy's words. I wish Aslan were here too. She had given voice to the quiet longing of his heart, something had had not realised was there, and yet, in naming it the longing had grown more present and more poignant.

"Me too," came Susan's whisper, and the three others unconsciously released a breath.

Susan lifted the mug and downed some of the tea, only to nearly choke on it a second later. Edmund sighed. Oh dear, I forgot the sugar this time – and Peter must've forgotten the teabag again.

"Oh, sorry – I keep meaning to learn to make it different, but I always think the teabag can stay in just a bit longer-" Peter reached for the mug, trying to take it back, but Susan clung on.

"Just what I needed," she smiled softly, cutting off any protest. And so the Gentle Queen returns. He watched Peter slowly begin to smile, the tension which had returned when they had re-entered the room disappearing like mist at dawn. It made his elder brother look much younger. Edmund suddenly wondered how long it would last, his thoughts returning to the Grumpy Magical Being (GMB?) who had appeared in their backyard.

"How long are you staying?" He asked, belatedly realising he had effectively killed the mood. Drats. Ah well, practicalities had to be attended to.

"I do not know," Susan replied after a moment, her eyes revealing an uneasy hope.

"You're out often enough in the evenings, and you often sleep through breakfast, but Mum will expect to see you every few days during lunch. Maybe we can give a glimpse – you heading out the door in your coat-" Edmund was thinking out loud, trying to think of how best to keep their parents from worrying, but fell silent when he noticed Susan's carefully schooled features. Edmund had been looking forward to spending more time with their redeemed sister, but perhaps she wasn't so eager for a long stay? Their presence seemed to cause her as much pain as joy. In any case, perhaps this was not the best time to be discussing this.

"We can bring you food," Lucy continued where Edmund had left off.

"And there's always the tree outside the window if you've got to get out with Mum or Dad coming up," Peter finished, and Susan smiled. Edmund looked between the two suspiciously. Susan had never been the type to climb trees. What was Peter doing? Which was why it surprised him when Susan replied in kind.

"If you are sure the branches will hold me, it will be a welcome escape in case of emergency."

Disbelievingly, he added to the friendly banter. "Oh, he's quite sure. He tested it out himself, going to get you from Clive's when Mum and Dad were sleeping and you weren't home yet."
It was last week. Edmund had volunteered to go with him, only Peter had insisted there was no point in both of them getting into trouble.
"And besides,", he had told Edmund, "I can manage by myself".
"Yeah, I can tell by that shiner you've got there" he remembered retorting when they'd returned. Peter hadn't gotten into a scrap since they were both schoolboys, but Edmund was mostly mad he hadn't been there to back his brother up.

Susan was clearly thinking along similar lines, her eyes dark with memories, even if her smile was still in place.

"Then I will use it as needed," she told them, seeming to drag herself back into good humour. "Thank you for attending to my safety, Peter," she added softly, and Edmund understood where he had gone wrong. Okay, Ed, don't make things awkward by bringing up past indiscretions. Got it. He hadn't been ready to make light of his mistakes right after the Battle of Beruna either. Obviously, he could not ignore the reality of Susan's choices, but it clearly wasn't up to the point they could joke about it yet. But the openness in her face was refreshing. He couldn't help but test out what they could talk about with this new Susan.
He brought to mind one of the various unanswered questions which had been peculating in his mind since his introduction to the GMB. Perhaps if he phrased it as a statement…?

"Merlion is an old, odd alteration for Merlin, one of the many possible misspellings of it."

"Merlion?" Lucy asked, keen interest on her face. She had gone through a phase not too long ago which had led her to devour any book related to the legends of the Round Table, looking for similarities between old England and Narnia. "Was that – the Doorkeeper said he was bringing Merlin back? In 1945? He came back three years ago? Why didn't anyone notice? Why weren't any of us told!?"

Edmund smiled as an old memory resurfaced.
"What do they teach in schools these days?"

"I doubt it was the first priority at your school; they stick to large events," Edmund almost broke his deadpan, but became serious when he saw Susan's expression. Her lips were a thin line, but she wasn't objecting. Bingo, he thought. "Merlin might have more work to do, but I doubt all of England will know what that work is or was, till King Arthur comes back. King Arthur," he added, testing a theory, "who is Merlion's charge."

Please please please, he thought at her expectantly, come on, surely a hint? This has nothing to do with us or you, surely! Not to mention it was exciting stuff. Just think – Merlin back in England! In their time! Lucy wasn't the only one to have go through a King Arthur phase.

Susan's face remained impassive, giving away nothing. Clearly, she wasn't going to tell them.

Drats. Well, I suppose I am testing the boundaries just a little.
He smiled ruefully, admitting honestly, "I'm a bit jealous, perhaps. You can't tell us?"

Susan hesitated, and Edmund looked away. Far be it for him to tempt her to break an oath of confidence. He shouldn't have pushed her.

"I can tell you about visiting him," she admitted unexpectedly, and he couldn't help it; his head shot up, hanging off her every word. "Or at least, that I was going to. But Edmund, you're far too good at guessing, and there are things I can't tell you. Things you shouldn't guess."

Yeah, I'd guessed that much. Or Aslan has practically told him, but it was all the same in the end.

"Why?" Asked Peter, and Edmund held his tongue.

"Because what I am now is the result of my choices," she told them, a hint of cold bitterness seeping into her tone. "And they have always been my choices, Peter. I have to bear the consequences of them."

"That isn't always true," Edmund jumped in. If it wasn't fair for Peter to feel responsible for past-Susan's actions, neither was it right for Susan to punish herself beyond remit. She had been forgiven, and according to the pastor, had been redeemed by blood, just as he. "I did not bear the consequences of mine. Can we not lift some of the consequences of yours – or help you change them?" Consequences were not always set in stone, after all, and Aslan's justice was always tempered with mercy when there was repentence.

Susan laughed, here eyes becoming slightly glassy.
"No, you didn't. But Edmund, at the same time, you did bear some consequences. You were tied to a tree, claimed by her voice, and pierced by her sword."
True.
"And we're not told what would have happened if you had made other choices, I know, I heard that over and over. I am – there's choices I'm making now, here, at twenty years old, that change me. For worse, and then later for better. Irrevocable choices. And what I'm doing at twenty-nine, it's not…it's not forever. I've been promised that. But I do have to live with the choices I made, and who they made me to be. How they left me alone." Susan's voice caught, and a single tear spilled over, rolling down her cheek.

As one, Peter, Edmund, and Lucy leaned forward, offering her comfort.

"What's a Walker?" Lucy asked, no judgement in her eyes.

"It's – who I am now," Susan answered. "The consequences of my choice broke me in ways that…cannot be reversed. But grief isn't worthless in Aslan's paws, and it remade me into someone who can…can speak to the utterly broken and give them hope. Sometimes. Sometimes all I can bring is the hand on theirs as they break, but even that is a gift not forgotten."

Her past was filled with pain and mistakes, but it had been used for good. He had been a traitor, so he could be a Just king for Narnia.

"And your choices brought the grief that taught you the comfort," he finished, looking at Peter and Lucy. He wasn't sure they understood, but he did.

Susan nodded, though she didn't need to. He could see the answer in her eyes. The truth in her words which rang like the purest bell.
"As your choices brought the offence that taught you justice and mercy," Susan confirmed. He saw the echo of himself in her face, and it was bitter-sweet. But mostly sweet. "They are choices that I must make now, at twenty – because they are mine, and there is no other way I can learn this."

"Is there nothing we can do to help you?" Peter asked, and Edmund hummed his agreement. But Susan shook her head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucy's eyes narrow before she burst out, "Yes, there is!"
Scrambling off towards her dresser, his youngest sister rummaged around, reaching to the far back, and came up with a slender chain of gold. Edmund caught a glimpse of a tiny ring shaped like a crown dangling from the end. Lucy strode over and thrust it towards Susan. His eldest sister seemed to cringe – clearly there was a history here, with this object.

"Lucy I'm sor-" she began, but Lucy didn't let her finish.
"Take it now. I kept it. I kept it in the drawer, and every time things hurt beyond bearing, I took it out and reminded myself you might come back." Edmund hadn't known that. He had thought Lucy's hope and faith were invincible. He remembered how earlier in the day his hesitation had let her face the old Susan's scorn and rejection, before he had known it was really Susan from the future, his admiration for her valour. He shouldn't let himself forget again that sometimes Lucy was even more prone to hiding her hurt than Susan.
"I thought I might be able to give it to you again. And now I have. I won't need to keep it anymore because I know you will come back."

Susan took the necklace, smiling.

"And it will remind you of her," Peter added, and came over.
Taking the ring off his finger - the one shaped like a lion's head which Susan had given him a long, long, time ago - he added it to the pile of jewellery sitting in his eldest sister's hand. Edmund began considering what he could add to the collection as Peter finished talking. "As you walk alone, remember He is with you. And if you are a friend of Narnia, you are its Queen. You are and will always be. Just as we are."

Susan began crying, the smile melting into a relief so profound it was heartbreaking.

Edmund took her hands in his. "I do not often wear gold, but I do wear these," he told her, unpinning his silver book brooch from his shirt. He often used it to remind him to be curious, but given today's lessons, it would be much better served keeping his sister company. He placed it beside the two rings on the chain. "Remember you are forgiven, you are loved, and He is faithful." Reaching up, he fastened the chain around her neck. As his hands fell away, he couldn't help but brush some of her tears away. "Take these as you walk," he finished, "and remember."

Su looked as if she were about to say something, but before she could, a voice interrupted from the doorway, making them all jump.

"Is now a bad time? Because I found out what went wrong."

It was the GMB.

Author's Note:

*Calls into the void* Hello (-oh -oh -oh)!

Oh, you're still here? Impressive. And fortunate for you because I plan on finishing this thing, even though I've clearly forgotten how to format anything on this site.

Anyway, please do review if you feel so inclined - I know I'll appreciate it, and you'll probably feel warm and fuzzy for doing a good thing. *puppy-dog eyes*

Toodeloo friends!

Trix