…Susan covered her face and knelt in the hard dirt.

Chapter 5

Edmund had no idea what to say, so he just sat, hand on her shoulder.

Sometimes things couldn't be anything other than what they were.

She didn't want to leave them.
He didn't want to lose her again.
But she was out of Time, in more ways than one. 'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us'.* He remembered someone saying that once. Had it been the Professor, or Oreius? Things blended together at times.

Aslan, all times are in your paws. Help me trust that your plans are good, whether I walk in sorrow or joy.

Lucy pressed closer, drawing all four of them to become tighter intertwined. Edmund glimpsed Susan's face, shining with tears, as she clutched Lucy to herself.

"I can't leave," the words crackled with unspoken anguish. "I don't - I know I had to make these choices, I still believe that, but I cannot bring myself to leave."

Edmund felt himself shudder, unnoticed amidst the huddle.
There was a hard truth she had been struggling to hide from the moment she had arrived in their hallway.
Like a spectre of Death, it overshadowed her every word, her every interaction.
Grief like a garment, trailing behind her in dark, heavy folds.
Loneliness like a heavy crown, a labour borne with grace.
He'd seen it, always in the corner of his eye. In the brief glimpses of the picture he was putting together. She had been right; he was too good at guessing, but there were things he shouldn't guess.

Lucy leaned back, hands cradling Susan's face. Wiping her tears with careful fingers.
"It's not forever," she told her older sister, "You will see us again."

Edmund hummed his agreement. Death had been defeated and made to work backwards. This was not the only life.

"But how does that help me now?" Susan cried, hopelessness shining in her eyes. "Lucy, I cannot walk back into this sorrow of my own will, holding on to nothing but some day."
Oh, dear sister, where is your hope? His heart broke for her. Where is your faith? How may we bolster you? Aslan, fill her with the assurance of things hoped for, the certainty of what we do not see.

"Oh, Aslan's Queen, you already know the answer to that," a voice said, kinder though at once familiar. And very welcome. The Doorkeeper had returned. The one who was truly Susan's friend.

As Edmund turned his head, not moving from Susan's side, he saw the GMB (though surely the G stood more for Gentle than Grumpy right at this moment) walk towards them. At his side, an enormous Hound with a grey coat and dark, deep eyes. They halted a step away from the siblings, then sat down in the dirt with them. The Doorkeeper's starched suit crinkled. The Hound curled up beside him, eyes resting on the cluster of kings and queens a few steps away.

"I cannot remember the answer now," Susan said, relaxing a little in their arms, though she still sounded lost.

"Go back to the answer you found after your first task," the old man replied.

As Susan sifted through memories, Edmund found his own mind wandering. He had been reading an old hymn book earlier that day, and the poetry surfaced in his mind like a lovely echo. 'O love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in thee. I give thee back the life I owe, that in thine ocean's depths its flow, may richer, fuller be.'** The lyrics washed over his memory, the melody brushing at his thoughts. How does a future hope help now, now in the mire of sorrows deep, of grief unbearable? He paused to consider.

"Let this cup pass from me," Susan breathed and Edmund blinked. Oh Susan.

"Yes, but that is not where it ends," the Doorkeeper softly urged.

"I cannot do this. I cannot walk away; it would be like walking through death again," Susan begged, but suddenly broke off, their eyes meeting. She was alarmed. He was horrified. Is she…? But - he shuffled through the possibilities again, considering and reconsidering all over again as Susan just shook her head, trying to communicate something wordlessly. That it wasn't what he thought. Well, what is it then? What was so terrible that she prayed 'let this cup pass from me'? There was too much confusion, there was too large of an unknown. It swirled in the air like smog, choking him. He abandoned his guesswork.

He needed to be here. Present. Not worrying about a future which had already happened.

"And what of her?" The Doorkeeper stood, waving his arm behind him.
Behind the hound's head, lying atop its broad back, a young woman slept. The Susan of his time had her hair still done up, even as her dress crumpled beneath her. She snored softly, head resting against the creature's chest.

Edmund darted a glance between the Susan of this Time and the Susan of the Future.
How does having a faith and hope in things to come help me now? Well, I know how it ends, and that makes all the difference in the world.
His eyes fixed on the Susan of this Time. This is not the end of your story, he told her silently, you will not remain in darkness. He looked at the Susan of the Future. And though you may walk in the darkest valleys, you need not fear because He is with you, even now. He looked back at the other Susan. You were never alone.

The Susan of the Future rose to her feet, shouldering her burden again. He saw it settle around her like a mantle, noble and heavy.

Edmund stood too, looking back towards the Susan who had caused so much pain. But pain wasn't what he felt when he saw her this time. Instead, love welled up, like a sharp blade pressed gently against soft skin, rich and red. True love was costly. Edmund had seen it in Jesus, whose love had called him to give his life as a ransom for many. None of them, none of them were worthy of that love. But He had bestowed love on the loveless so they might lovely be.***

I will love her fearlessly, not because she deserves it, he resolved, but because He loved me when I was unlovable. And because He loves her now too.

Before he even knew it, he was leaning toward her, taking a step forward. But then he glanced back.

The Susan of the Future gazed steadily at him, and the love he saw there took his breath away. "Go to her," she told him, voice breaking. "She needs - just go, Edmund." Her voice steadied, and a command entered it. "Go to her."

He didn't hesitate, not this time.

Approaching the Hound, he shared a look with it. There was a deep intelligence there, and compassion. It had surely treated his sister with care - he could tell by the way the creature held itself, careful of its movements disturbing its unconscious passenger. And they were certainly friends, Edmund knew it with a sourceless certainty.

With a flash of a smile, he lifted his hand as the hound lowered its head, the gentle exchange a gesture of instant friendship. He wondered if he'd ever see the Hound again - he should like to, if Aslan willed it.

Gently, he reached up to catch Susan as she slid off the hound, careful of the dress. He repositioned her limbs as her weight settled in his arms. Then he turned, carrying his older sister (though at this moment she was not his eldest sister; that honour belonged to the Susan of the Future) back to his siblings.

There was a funny look in her eyes. A sort of distant understanding. He couldn't parse it. She placed a hand on Lucy's head, and he realised she was saying goodbye.

"Lucy, go help him," she told the Valiant Queen, pain in her voice.

Lucy shook her head. "Susan-"

"Lucy, please," Susan begged, letting go of Peter to hold her sister's face in her hands. "You are the greatest bringer of joy I have ever met, aside from Aslan Himself. I love you with all I am; even the shallow girl over there, back when I shredded myself till little of me was left, even then I loved you. But -" His eldest sister paused, clinging to her composure. "But Aslan-"

"Aslan gave me this sister," Lucy replied stubbornly. "It isn't fair."

Susan laughed thickly. "I have learnt that if life were fair, we would never have met Aslan." Edmund huffed out a laugh too, marvelling at her frank candor. "I would certainly never have met Him the second time, after refusing he came to us during Prince Caspian's reign. And a third time, years ago, would be unheard of." The older woman leant forward, forehead pressing against Lucy's, whispering something Edmund was too far away to hear.

Lucy replied, and he caught, "...Aslan is with us both, and where He is, there will be joy." Amen and Amen.
And with a kiss on the cheek, Lucy turned and walked towards Edmund.

The Walker choked something out under her breath, eyes closed, both breaking and stronger than Edmund had ever seen his sister.

Now only Peter remained, standing silently, one arm still wrapped around hers. His eyes told Edmund that he would not leave until he was bid, letting their older sister dictate the speed of their letting go.

"Peter-" she began, not looking at her remaining brother.

"You do not walk alone." At his tone, she jerked her head to look at him. Peter moved so he was holding both her hands. "They are not us, Susan. I do not know what happened, and I do not think I am to know-" Edmund fought a sinking feeling. "But those two walk with you, Susan. And they care for you. Do not forget that."

"Peter, I can't do this. They're not you, not Edmund, not Lucy! I can't lose you again, I can't - even if I'm not alone, I have still lost so much."

Static filled his mind, and he lost his focus on the conversation. He was right. He knew he was right. "I'm twenty-nine. I have - I have lived most of those years in ways you cannot imagine…And I'm all alone." He wasn't supposed to know. It was not the sort of thing anyone was supposed to know. She had told him not to guess. He hadn't listened. Or perhaps it just wasn't in his nature to be uncurious.
He darted a glance at Lucy beside him, her countenance bright and calm, even in the midst of this storm. His gaze settled on his sleeping sister, her face utterly at peace in slumber. Edmund resolved to keep it to himself. I can't un-know what I know, but I won't let them bare the brunt of my error either.

"...I love you," Peter's voice carried, drawing Edmund back out of his thoughts. He re-focused on the conversation in time to see Peter wrap his arms tight around the Susan of the Future.

"Aslan has given me more than I asked for, to know that though you are no friend now, in this year, you will be again. Thank you, Susan, for that priceless gift."

Lucy hummed in agreement from her place beside him, and Edmund smiled. More than they could have asked for or imagined indeed.

The embrace lasted a moment longer, before Peter let her go. Susan stood tall and strong, but stood taller when the Doorkeeper and the Hound came to stand behind her, offering their support.

"We will care for her best we can, until the day she meets with you again," the GMB told them, his words a promise.

Peter kissed her on the forehead, a blessing.
"Go with Aslan," he said, his words sonorous and solemn.
A moment more, and he was walking with sure steps towards Edmund and the others.

Susan whispered something under her breath again. Edmund strained to hear, and this time the wind carried her words to him: "Not my will, but Your will be done."
The dying light glittered on her face like the surface of a lake, such were the tears that covered it. Then the Walker swung herself up onto the Hound and they were leaving.

"Goodbye!" "I love you!" A chorus of voices sent her on her way.
"Until we meet again," whispered Edmund as the trio disappeared through the tree.

Almost as soon as the last inch of tail was through the 'door', such that it was, reality snapped back into place, bark smoothing, wood shuddering with another sharp 'crack'. If not for a few leaves falling, having been shaken free, it would have been like there had never been anything there at all.

They stood there for what felt like a long time, but all too soon, Susan began to shift and murmur. Edmund's arms began to tremble with the strain.

"Pete -" he turned to his older brother.

"I'll take her," Peter offered quietly, mouth twitching up into a gentle smile. "Let's see if we can get her upstairs and into bed before she wakes."

Lucy was already rushing to get the door, even as the brothers carefully transferred their sleeping sister from one set of arms to another.

It was months later, when sadness had been set aside and the difficult work of actually living out their fresh perspective had begun, when the subject finally came up.

"I suppose," Lucy said, eyes pondering, "the mystery of why the Future Susan is the way she was - will be? - will have to remain a mystery."

Peter pursed his lips. "I cannot claim to be without curiosity myself. She was alone, so something must have happened to her to force her away from us."

Edmund remained silent. He had made his peace with this, but did not trust himself to speak on it in front of his siblings. He would leave the future in Aslan's paws.

"Do you suppose she was trapped out of her own time, so she was unable to return to us?" Lucy asked, eyes wide.

"I doubt that Doorkeeper fellow would prevent her from being in the Time she belongs to," Peter said. "I rather think she … well, honestly, I haven't the faintest clue."

The three sat in silence, before suddenly Lucy piped up. "I say, Edmund, you haven't said anything on the subject and you would surely be the most curious of us all!"

Suddenly they both looked at him with suspicion. Edmund shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a way to redirect them.

"Ed, don't tell me you managed to figure it out," Peter said when he hesitated too long.
"And you didn't tell us?!" Lucy burst out, looking betrayed. It was that look which finally moved him to speak.

"I maybe figured it out. Maybe. But if I'm right…" he took a breath, using the moment to choose his words carefully. "She was right. There are some things we shouldn't guess."

"But-!" Lucy was stricken.

"Please," he said softly, "it is a burden you do not want. If any of us must carry it, let it only be me alone; the only one fool enough to speculate when I was given wise counsel to the contrary."

There was a weighty pause. But was Peter who finally responded.
"I will defer to wisdom, Edmund the Just." Edmund breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh well. I suppose I will too, then," Lucy said, frowning. Suddenly, she smiled, a cheeky light entering her eyes. "For now. But I will find out eventually. In the fullness of Time."

Edmund dredged up a wry smile. "That is how Time works."

"Speaking of Time," Peter interjected, "we had better use it wisely. Don't we have to leave for the meeting soon?"

Edmund checked his watch, noting the hour. "Indeed. We should get a move on if we want to catch the afternoon train."

"Oh!" Lucy said, shooting to her feet. "Let me just grab that book Polly lent me; I'll only be a minute!"

She darted out the door. Peter stood to follow, holding a hand out for his younger brother.

"So, shall we go on and take the adventures that shall fall to us, dearest brother?" Peter was using his King voice, eyes shining with a challenge.

"Let us take the adventures He gives us, whatever they may be," Edmund agreed; taking the hand, he let himself be pulled to his feet. "Trusting that He will deliver us through both hardship and trial. But even if he does not…I trust that greater adventures await us in Aslan's Country."

"So may it be," Peter agreed, and the two brothers exited the room, following after their sister, and going on to whatever adventure Aslan should send them on next.

*J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (Gandalf)

** O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go, a beautiful hymn, definitely worth looking it up, even just for the lyrics.

***My Song Is Love Unknown, another stunning hymn. And before you cry out that my own love of sacred music is bleeding into Edmund's perspective (which, honestly, fair), I'm fairly certain BrokenKestral was making an allusion to the hymn in the original chapter ("The beauty of the love bestowed on the unlovable" - such a good line btw)...or then again, perhaps not. Either way, it was too good an opportunity to pass up! …yeah okay, I'll try to keep the hymnody to a minimum from now on.

Note: There are definitely more allusions and quotes in this than I've directly referenced, so if you spot one, bonus points for you! In terms of IP, clearly nothing is mine - if it ain't from C.S. Lewis or the Bible, the rest of it is from BrokenKestral, whose story this is a retelling of - so I better not get any complaints about plagiarism. Happily, this is not an academic essay where I have to footnote everything XD

Author's Note:

I suppose it's quite the melancholy ending, so I'll have to beg your forgiveness for that. In my defence, the original ending wasn't much better, but then again, it was my choice to let clever Ed puzzle things out. It didn't feel right to end this story with the door snapping shut, so I gave the story a little epilogue.
I'll leave it to you to determine how much you think he knows, but the important thing is that, come what may, he's leaving future events in the trustworthy paws of Aslan. And, as he tells Peter, we know they'll meet again in Aslan's Country.

And I suppose that's all from me - this is the end of the original story, and I'm leaving my odd retelling here as well. I hope you enjoyed it, and wish you all the best on your next adventure, wherever it may lead you! May you feel the presence of the Lord as you walk through sunshine and sorrows, and may he lead you to an everlasting home which can never be taken away.

Until next time,
Trix

P.S. Thanks for peer pressuring me into this, friend. I've delighted in how much enjoyment you've taken in it - thanks so much for sharing that joy with me! I hope you find this a fitting ending :)

P.P.S. I fully intend to join the 2024 Adventures in Narnia Challenge, so if that's something you follow (or would like to join!), I'll see you there!