I do not own the characters in the story. This is a crossover between my DC-verse and BrokenKestral's "Walker of World's" story. I am so glad she worked with me on this and gave her blessing for this story! :D

Please read and enjoy for free.

Susan was surprised, when she stepped into a forest. The feeling was not very great, nor did it last very long though. She was used to the unexpected by now. Though he tried, the Doorkeeper still didn't tell her all the details it would be helpful to know before stepping into another world.

She let her eyes drift upward where she could just see bits of blue sky with white clouds through the branches. Was this another world? Or simply her own in another place and time? Would answers to either question help her help this person? The Doorkeeper had said he didn't know if she could help him. She winced slightly at the thought, but her back stiffened and straightened too as she dropped her gaze from the stained-glass window effect a canopy of red, orange, and yellow leaves were making as sunlight filtered through them.

Susan studied the area lower to the ground. Many tree trunks stood a comfortable enough distance from each other, a couple, walking arm and arm, could pass between them and still have room. This almost gave the place a park-like feel, but it was still obviously a forest, just perhaps a rather young and tame one. It didn't feel like Narnia and certainly not like Huan's world, but the smell of damp soil, warmth of sunlight, and slight chill of autumn breeze were pleasant. They lifted Susan's spirits despite the task she'd been sent to attempt. And there, his back to her wearing a sweater of a rich green that actually helped him stand out in this forest amid all the autumn leaves on the ground, his legs pulled up to himself, arms wrapped around them, and forehead resting on his knees was a boy.

He looked about Lucy's age, when they first entered Narnia. The blackness of his hair, though, reminded her more of Edmund as perhaps did his posture. That was how Edmund used to look as he'd sulked before Narnia. Susan didn't let that alter her heart or mind about the boy since she knew he was dealing with a different pain from Edmund's then.

As if he could feel her thoughts upon him, the boy, who was several feet away, lifted and turned his head to look at her. She realized then she'd expected a red, damp face wet and flushed from a bout of crying. Instead, his face was dry and pale. He was a bit too far away for her to be sure, but his eyes didn't look pink or swollen either. They widened upon taking in the sight of her. Slowly, but surely, he rose to his feet reaching up to push off from the tree trunk without looking away from her. She saw now he wore long blue pants. This was another surprise to her.

At his age, both her brothers had worn shorts, but these she supposed would protect the boy's legs in the forest. She reminded herself she might not even be in "her" world. She should stop expecting this boy to be like either of her brothers. And yet, perhaps what was most surprising is how this one "did" remind her especially of Edmund in Narnia, or even one of the Knights in how he slowly, silently moved into a position he could easily start into a fast sprint from all without looking away from her.

He didn't scream or even open his mouth into a soundless one. His face didn't turn further white nor did his eyes look about to pop out of his head. She'd seen these things in terrified children's faces during the blitz in London or Fell attacks in Narnia, but while this boy was more than ready to flee from her if she gave him any reason to, his face and positioning spoke more of wariness than terror.

Susan stood unmoving trying to not let her own face or posture change to cause him any more alarm and waited. Would she fail so soon by causing him to run away from her? Running after him, she thought, would not help things. He surprised her once more when he spoke.

"Are you a kidnapper?"

Susan felt her eyebrows rise before she stopped them. She tilted her head slowly and slightly continuing to watch him before responding. "No …But … you are wise to ask me that."

Susan thought of Lucy and how if Mr. Tumnus had made a different choice, they could have lost her without even knowing it until far too late perhaps. Did this child have much worse memories of a kidnapping gone wrong instead of so right like Lucy's?

The boy kept staring at her. He looked like he was trying to see into her mind or her heart through her face. Her heart gave a pang. He looked so … like Edmund.

"Don't do that."

Susan started as she came out of her thoughts. She more consciously took in his now grimmer though no more frightened face. His dark brows had drawn down over squinting eyes. He looked ... angry.

She tried to keep her own tone gentle as she asked. "Do what?"

"Feel sorry for me."

Now Susan was truly confused. Before she could be sucked down into her own thoughts again, the boy interrupted and pulled her out. "You 'winced' while you were staring at me."

Oh. He had seen that pain while she thought of Edmund. "I'm sorry. It wasn't that. I was thinking of my brother. He … you reminded me of him."

Now, the boy leaned back a bit, his own eyes widening. Then his shoulders fell. In fact, Susan thought his whole body seemed to loosen out of the tightness he'd been preparing to spring with. "Did he ..?" The child paused and just stared again. She saw his mouth purse and body tighten up once more as he hesitated to go on. She decided to answer instead of letting him struggle longer with how to ask.

"His name was Edmund. He died."

The corners of his mouth fell down. He gave a jerky nod. "I'm … sorry for your loss. Was it …" He stopped again. Susan thought she knew what other question he was hesitating to ask.

"It was a train crash."

The boy winced now. His face and shoulders fell again. "Oh."

She tried to keep her voice very soft. "You lost your parents recently?" He nodded and sighed. Susan sat down with her own back against a tree feeling the dampness in the soil, leaves, and bark seep through her skirt, but she didn't get up again. Instead she said, "I didn't want to talk about things right away with people after I lost my family."

The boy looked up with his eyes wide. "Your brother was your whole family, or you …" He trailed off, so she helped him again.

"My parents, older brother, and younger sister were on the train too."

The boy winced yet again. His mouth turned down into a deep grimace a moment. As it straightened out again, he sat back down, not in the same place, but against the same tree. His gaze remained focused on her.

Susan gave him a small smile. His next question made her start. "Did someone sabotage the train?"

"No …"

His face screwed up into a scowl. He looked down at his toes. Of course, the Doorkeeper said his grief was mixed with injustice. Susan decided to interrupt his journey to wherever his dark thoughts were taking him. "No pain or loss is exactly the same. That's why it's so hard to understand one another's."

The boy sighed. His head sank toward his knees, which were once more pulled up to his chest. His face was hidden from her a moment as he pressed it into his legs. When he looked up again, his gaze caught hers and he made her start again where she sat. "You're smarter than most."

After her slight startle, Susan smiled warmly at him. "Thank you …"

"No, really. Most people don't understand ... Most people expect me to cry, or want hugs, or something … All I want is the guy caught, and … justice."

Susan felt herself stiffen. Why hadn't the Doorkeeper warned her he'd be so like her younger brother? "Edmund was interested in justice too ..."

"Was he a detective?"

"No."

"A policeman?"

"No … he … he judged cases for our country."

The boy's shoulders and face sank again a bit, though not as much as last time. "Oh …"

Susan gave a slight smile. "Do you think that's more boring?" Edmund had thought so too at times, though not as often as Peter and Lucy had, and her too now and then.

"Yes … but boring stuff needs doing, Alfred, Leslie, and Lucius say that a lot." A darkness and hardness came over his face. "I'd like to take the man who killed my parents to your brother."

Susan felt her face drain a bit. She swallowed to untighten her throat before continuing. "He hasn't been caught?"

The child's mouth turned down deeply at the corners. He was the one who swallowed now. "I … didn't see his face."

Susan felt her own fall at that but didn't speak out as the boy continued. "The light was behind him, and I was behind my parents most of the time. Even when I wasn't though, he was wearing a hat, and a trench coat with the collar turned up. I saw the gun; he was wearing gloves. I heard his voice. I would recognize it again. I would! And, I had to just give an estimate of his height and weight, because of the trench coat and he hunched, but … But they haven't called … No one's called to say they solved the case."

There was a pause and Susan was tempted to fill it, but she didn't have to resist very long before he continued. "Maybe, I have to do it! If no one else does it by the time I grow up, or maybe even before then, I'll do it. I'll be the best detective ever! And I'll … I'll … bring him to justice or …" He paused again.

This time Susan spoke. "My brother said, when judging a case, first, you need to seek the truth. Who is guilty? Who is innocent? Whom does the land, or tree, or gem belong to? And then, when you have the truth, you have to balance justice and mercy."

"My parents were good!"

Susan oddly enough didn't startle at this shout the way she had before at so many of his questions. She now saw the white face finally becoming red as he continued to shout. "I don't care what people say! I don't care how rich they were! They traveled the world to start hospitals, orphanages, and schools! Dad treated people at the same clinic Aunt Leslie still works at! Mother taught as a substitute at schools when they called and asked! Someone called her the most loved substitute teacher in Gotham! They loved me and they did good things and they died! He killed them! And he got away, and it's not fair, and it's definitely not just!"

Finally, the boy stopped. His chest heaved. The red in his face began to recede. His eyes widened, though. Susan began to rise to go embrace him and then stopped as she recalled what he said earlier about hugs. She tried to think of something to say instead. What could she say?

In the near silence, except for his heavy breathing, she heard his voice. "I … I … I …" She looked up to see him rubbing at his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to … lose my temper."

Susan gave him a gentle smile since he wasn't looking at her though, she didn't expect him to see it. But then he did look up and meet her gaze. His own eyes widened.

They watched each other a moment before Susan said as her smile faded away "I said and did things I regretted after my family died, but sometimes, it's better to go ahead and say such things rather than keep them inside all the time."

The boy looked down, hugged his legs again, but this time he set his chin on his knees. "I don't know about that."

"Do you feel better?"

He frowned not looking at her, but seemingly inward, before he replied, "A little."

"Master Bruce!"

Both Susan and the boy startled together before looking toward the where worried shout had come through the trees. The boy recovered first, his shoulders falling and body loosening up again. "That's Alfred."

Susan nodded. "It sounds like you should go to him." She wasn't sure how much she had helped. But "Bruce" had talked, shouted even, and she'd listened. That was what the Doorkeeper had said he needed most. Maybe, for now, it would be enough to help a little light shine in where there had once been darkness.

Bruce fixed his now slightly damp eyes upon her and asked. "Do you want to come in for tea?"

Susan blinked. Bruce's voice hadn't sounded very British, though she thought she might have detected a London accent in Alfred's call. Maybe it was his influence that caused Bruce to ask this. She gave him a gentle smile in return. "I think I had better go home."

Bruce nodded and began to stand up, but they must have taken too long. A now angrier shout came from the same direction. "Master Bruce, answer me! Are you hurt?!"

There was a slight tremble in the voice at the end of this question. Bruce sprinted toward it. Susan could swear she saw a lightness and looseness in his gait she hadn't seen in his earlier steps away from her when it looked like he might run away. After he disappeared through some bushes and saplings, Susan heard Bruce shout in return. "Coming Alfred!"

Soon, Susan heard a much more controlled and "definitely" London accented voice say, "There you are Master Bruce. I thought you wearing that sweater would help me find you more easily in here, but you gave me quite a scare."

"Sorry, I was back there. I wasn't hurt though."

The London voice replied much more softly and warmly. "Weren't you?" There was a pause before it continued. "I must admit you 'do' look better. Did your walk go so well? You know, your Aunt Leslie will not be pleased with me for giving you so much alone 'brooding' time as she calls it."

"I … I sort of … talked things out, like she recommends."

"To yourself?"

"I …"

There was another long pause during which Susan's curious side wished she could see the two speakers, but this was probably when she should hide the most. Then there was the sound of an adult sigh she guessed was Alfred's. "Do you think you could eat some biscuits I just pulled from the oven now?"

"What kind?"

"Ginger, with frosting if you can wait for them to cool long enough for it to stick."

There was a longer pause Alfred ended again by saying. "I know … they were a favorite of your mother's."

"I … she'd want me to eat them. I'll try to ... now."

A very British voice somehow finding a balance between brightness and gravity said, "Come on then."

Susan dared take a few light steps over damp leaves, using her woodcraft learned in Narnia to not rustle them, and peeked through the last stand of young trees before the forest ended to see a man in a dark suit striding away with his hands behind his back. Next to him walked the boy she'd just talked to. Before them atop a hill stood a very large gray stone manor. It looked a lot like the professor's house. It could've fit relatively comfortably into Cair Paravel, but still Susan's face fell a little thinking of only the butler and boy occupying it now. What an awful lot of space in which to feel lonely. She felt a little better having heard the butler say Bruce looked better, though. She felt a cold gust of air hit her back. Susan sighed, turned and strode through the door."

What did you think?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes