A.N./ My first Narnia fic! Who's happy? I am! Whooooeeee!

I don't own Narnia. 'Cuz if I did, I'd write a whole book on it instead of just a oneshot. I don't own Home either. Chris Daughtry does. I think. Anyway he sings it.

It wasn't raining exactly. It was more of a mist. But it was enough to depress Lucy.

She wanted to be outside.

The beautiful weather was what she missed most about Narnia. Whenever it rained there, it was a good rain. A pouring-down and emptying of the sky that always made you feel better when it was through, the same way you felt better after a good long cry cleaned out the bad feelings in your chest.

But here, in England, the rain seemed spiteful.

So she sat in the old window-seat, her cheek pressed against the cold glass, and watched it emotionlessly while it fizzed down and coated the bricks of the house next door in slick perspiration.

It didn't exactly help that they were leaving for the station in an hour. That just made her even more depressed.

They were stupid to try it. Aslan had said that she and Ed couldn't go back, let alone Peter. What were they thinking, going against what he had laid down as law? She didn't think it would go over well with him, though—somehow she couldn't help wanting to and trying to anyway. How could she? Narnia was home to her. Home. And she wouldn't stop being homesick for it, ever.

"Lu?" Edmund appeared in the doorway and she swiveled her head to see him better as he leaned against the frame. "We're leaving in a half-hour. You ought to get your things together."

She ran her eyes over him critically. He always seemed thinner in this world, more a boy than a man. But even here he had the noble look of a king. An irritating king, sometimes. She laughed. "What do you think I'm taking? My library? It's Narnia, Ed."

He shrugged, and looked even more like a boy in his sheepishness. "I don't know, I just thought that...well you know. If it doesn't work, we'll be gone overnight. You'll want some clothes, I expect."

She turned her head again to look at the rain. It swirled around the unseeable imperfections in the glass. She took a deep breath. "It'll work, Ed."

"How do you know?" She looked at him and he raised his hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. "I mean—he did say we couldn't return."

She traced out an invisible map on the window. "I don't know," she said quietly. "It's just—he said it was because we were too old. I think it didn't really have anything to do with our age, just the fact that we were growing up, you know? We were thinking of grown-up things and were too occupied. Like what father used to say about being at the mercy of the telephone. We were getting to be at the mercy of our world and the grown-up parts of it. I guess—I think if maybe we could prove to him that we're still the people we were when we were kings and queens—I think maybe he'd let us continue being them." She looked up earnestly. "Does that make any sense?"

His eyebrows were hovering a couple of inches higher than usual. "No-o."

She sighed. "I guess it wouldn't."

He straightened up from his slouch against the door. "Well, come on, anyway. You've been moping for a good two hours. Cheer up, Lu."

She heaved another sigh with a last glance outside and slid her legs to the ground. "Right."

"When's the train coming?" Lucy asked, leaning forward and looking down the rails in both directions.

It was still drizzling, but her previous attitude of depression had faded in favor of some butterflies deep down in her belly. It was going to happen, she knew it. She knew it, she knew it, and she could feel the excitement bubbling up in her at the thought.

"Should be here any minute," Edmund said, glancing down at the old watch that he carried with pride despite the many dings sported on the silver surface. He looked at his little sister through the corners of his eyes, detecting easily the thinly veiled enthusiasm. "Stop fidgeting, Lu, you're going to break the bench."

She pouted slightly. "But don't you feel it?"

He felt a bit uncomfortable at her frank question. "Feel what?" he said defensively.

"Him," she breathed. "He's waiting for us. He's going to do something big, and he's waiting for us to show up."

Typical. She always felt him first. He felt a distinct stab of jealousy, which was promptly followed by the knowledge that that was why Aslan favored her. Guileless, trusting, loving Lucy was worth more than any of them. "No, I can't," he said. "D'ya think he'll let us through?"

"Yes," she said, with such absolute confidence that he found himself believing her.

He smiled at her excited, impatient expression. "It's alright, Lu, he'll take us soon enough."

She turned on him with a bright smile. "So you do believe!"

And she reminded him so much of the little girl who had discovered that her brother knew about the forest too. "Edmund! Oh, Edmund! You got in too!"

He grinned. "Well, last time I didn't believe you, I ended up looking pretty stupid."

She gave a breathy little laugh and leaned into him as he wrapped an arm around her.

"Of course I believe you, Lu," he said softly. "You're always right about these things."

"So you only believe it because of me?" She sounded a bit disappointed.

"You're a good enough reason for me," he said.

She smiled and laid her head down on his shoulder.

"You're not half-bad as a sister, Lu," he said.

She laughed, but it was cut off as she caught sight of the train in the distance. "Look, Edmund, it's here!" She leapt to her feet and ran to the metal bar separating them from the rails.

He joined her and squinted at the approaching vehicle. "It's taking that corner awful fast..." he said slowly.

Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but never got the words out before Edmund jerked her back and a mixture of metal and glass ripped open the sky.

She could feel it. It was permeating the very air around her with tangible peace and quickening emotion. She was here at last.

She was home.

The light started to creep up around her. She found herself standing in a field, wearing fresh, beautiful clothes and feeling healthier in the way that could only mean Narnia. The smell of fresh, unpicked fruit rose up around her and she smiled as Edmund came into view, clothed like a king and looking like a man again. Peter appeared to her left and she vaguely noticed that Professor Kirke and Aunt Polly were with him.

But none of those things mattered to her, because she had caught sight of what she had longed to see since the day they left all that time ago.

Arms open and smile-ridden, she flew into the mane of the Great Lion, burying her face deep inside of it and winding her fingers through the long fur. He laughed—his own special honey-golden laugh—and encased her in his paws.

Yes, this was Narnia.

This was Home.

I'm goin' home

to the place where I belong

where your love has always been enough for me

HERE ANNA HERE IT IS