"Susan, dear, are you sure you don't want to come to the train station with us to pick them up?" Helen Pevensie stood in the doorway, watching her eldest daughter's back bend as she leaned into the mirror to apply her lipstick.

"I'm quite sure Mum, really. Catherine and Maryanne invited me over for tea, and then we might go and look at the shops." Susan decided not to mention that she also didn't want to go because she had had another nasty fight with Lucy. She'd said some things she now regretted, and didn't want to deal with those emotions on a crowded train platform.

"Well, Dad and I are headed out. Oh, I do hope they had a nice stay in the country."

Susan set the lipstick down and leaned back, allowing herself to dwell on memories of that house in the country. That was where they'd found Nar—that place. Where they'd found that place and had that adventure. Now her siblings had gone back for a weekend, with their little group, The Seven Friends of Narnia. Susan shuddered. The whole thing was rather silly, like beating a dead horse. They weren't going back, any of them, and it was silly to dream they could. You had to live in the world you were in, not the one wished you could be in.

Susan picked up her handbag and turned out the lights, then locked the front door and headed toward Catherine's house.

Catherine had laid out a delicate platter of cookies and was making a steaming pot of tea. Maryanne was sitting next her in a flowered armchair, paging through a magazine.

"Susan! I'm so glad you could come!" Catherine set down the teapot and leapt to hug her friend.

"There's so much we have to talk about!" Maryanne squealed. "Did you hear what Dale Heatherwick said to Eunice Earnhart? And you simply must see these!" She opened the magazine to reveal photos of the latest designs by Cristian Dior.

"No, I didn't hear about that nor did I see those." Said Susan, reaching for the magazine.

"What's been going on with you?" Said Catherine. "Another fight with your sister?" She added, seeing the look on Susan's face.

Susan nodded. "It's just that she can be so incredibly stubborn and childish sometimes. She refuses to stop living in the past."

"Lucy's an odd girl." Said Maryanne.

"A little strange maybe, but she's a sweet and engaging child." Said Catherine, throwing a pointed look at Maryanne.

Sensing she had gone too far, Maryanne reached over and turned on the radio. "A serious accident at Kings Cross Station . . ." Maryanne reached over and turned up the volume, trying to hear the reporter better. "A train has crashed into platform seven. Multiple fatalities have been confirmed."

Susan jumped up, nearly spilling her tea. "The train station—God, my family . . . I hope . . ." She didn't finish the sentence, staring at the wobbling cup of tea in her shaking hands.

"Go." Said Catherine. "I'll take that cup, go to your family."

Susan turned and ran out of the room, down the hallway and through the front door. She careened through the streets, wobbling in her high heels, bent only on getting to that station.

"Taxi . . . taxi!" She wailed, waving her hand in the air. One stopped in front of her.

"Where to, Ma'am?"

"Kings Cross Station, as fast as possible." She shouted, climbing into the back. The driver nodded and took off. True to his word, he drove through the streets like a madman, weaving between car and narrowly dodging pedestrians, but getting her there in record time. Almost before the car stopped, she threw a wad of cash at him and ran into the building.

She charged past platforms and pushed through confused crowds, searching, searching—there! She ran to the platform and stopped short at what she saw. The train had indeed crashed into the platform. It lay broken and twisted in a bed of crushed bodies and bricks. The smells of fire and fuel and blood were thick on the air. Emergency workers were already there pulling bodies from the rubble, and those who were lucky enough to escape unscathed were walking away. Susan began scrambling over the rough bricks and twisted pieces of metal, calling desperately for her family.

Oh please let them be all right. Please tell me they were on a different platform. Susan felt her heart climb into her throat as she searched, still seeing nothing, hoping against hope that Peter or Lucy would tap her on the shoulder and tell her she'd gone to the wrong platform. She turned her head, looking toward the bodies on stretchers—

"Edmund!" She ran toward him, cradling his bloodied head in her lap. He was still alive, but only just. His legs were bent at odd angles and he was covered in blood.

"Edmund! Can you here me? You'll be all right, I promise!" She took folds of her skirt in her hands and desperately tried to staunch the flow of blood.

"No . . ." He whispered. "No, Su, it's too late."

"Don't say that!" She sobbed. "We'll find you a doctor."

"No. I can already see him. Aslan. He's come for me."

"No, Edmund, stay with me. Please!"

"Su . . . don't lose sight. He hasn't given up on you." The light behind his eyes went dark and his head dropped into Susan's hands. She gasped and let out a long, horrible scream, then fell over his body and began to sob. Then the strong hands of an emergency worker pulled her away and helped her to sit up. Someone handed her a glass of water, but se was sobbing too hard to drink it. The world had stopped. Nothing would ever be the same. It would never be ok. But she had to find the rest of her family. She owed it to them.

She picked herself up and began frantically pawing through rubble, searching for anything that could be connected to them. Her heart nearly stopped as she pulled a small hat from under a brick. She'd bought this hat herself and given to Lucy last Christmas. Now it was bent out of shaped, charred, and stained with ash and blood. It felt like being stabbed in the heart. Despite everything Susan had said and done to Lucy, Lucy had still chosen to wear that hat today.

"Lucy!" Susan called. "Where are you? I'm sorry! And I'll buy you a new hat. Lu!" Susan turned around. Lucy was lying on a stretcher a few feet away. Her clothes were charred and her legs were crushed and bloody. Her face was smooth and pale like a full moon. Susan ran to her and grabbed her hand, but it was cold.

If the world had stopped before, now every last piece of it came grinding to a halt. In one instant, everything she had with Lucy was gone, their past, their present, a future they could have had. Susan remembered the angry words she'd spoken the last time they were together, words that now hung in the air without resolution. She would never be able to apologize for them, never be able to fix the rift she'd created. The tears came on stronger this time, pouring down her face the way the river had poured through the fords of Beruna in happier times. She reached out a shaking hand and carefully brushed a fleck of blood off Lucy's cheek. She felt that she had died too, and yet her own heart beat faster and faster, stubbornly refusing to let her follow Lucy into the world beyond. She sat back, suddenly feeling dizzy as her heart pounded in her chest. Her skin felt clammy and her hands were shaking worse. She remembered trying to lean back a bit, but then everything went dark.

"Susan? Su, can you hear me?"

Susan blearily opened her eyes to find Catherine and Maryanne standing over her. "What—what happened? Where am I?"

"You passed out. We found you on this bench, with an old woman sitting next to you and holding your hand. She said you must've gone into shock."

"I—I was sitting with Lucy. Then I felt dizzy and everything went dark." She sat up and saw she was lying on a bench in the station.

"Su, if you're feeling up to it . . . we have to go to the morgue." Said Catherine softly. "The authorities want you there."

"If you're not ready for that, we can go later." Maryanne added.

"No. I need to go. It's the least I can do. Help me stand up."

Maryanne and Catherine took her arms and pulled her off the bench, then began to walk her through the station. As they passed platform seven, Susan turned her head to watch the workers, continuing to clear the rubble. There was so much of it. She wanted to stay and watch, but Catherine and Maryanne were already leading her away and into a cab.

Susan didn't speak on the way to the morgue, but only leaned her head against the window and stared out. The sun was thankfully gone today, leaving only a numb, grey-white sky. The sun could never come back. The world could never be that bright again.