A/N- When I first wrote Growing Up, I never dreamed that I'd end up here. In fact, I hadn't even planned on writing The Telegram. But Susan was persistently in my mind,and in the end, I suppose a compromise of sorts was reached. However, in the compromise, I planned to finish at The Telegram before directing people to Steph Silverstar's Tears. Then I realised that I'd taken Susan to her family's death, and I couldn't leave her hanging there. It was too cruel.

So, after a few requests, I managed to produce this fic, in which I attempted to take as little from Tears as to all who reviewed Growing Up and/or The Telegram, and in particular, those who encouraged me to go on. An especial thanks goes to my beta, Terreis, who helped convince me of this fic's worth. Now, without any further ado, I present you all with Coming Home, the concluding piece to my trilogy of Susan one-shots.

Coming Home

It had been nearly two years since she received the telegram, and people were beginning to talk. Why didn't Susan Pevensie cry? Why didn't Susan Pevensie smile? Why didn't Susan Pevensie laugh? Why didn't Susan Pevensie attend any parties anymore? Hadn't she once been the liveliest girl? Why didn't Susan Pevensie go to church? Her family had been very Christian. Why wasn't Susan Pevensie?

When she visited Aunt Alberta, Aunt Alberta had tried to bully her into going back to church, at least, but Susan shook her head. The minister would merely talk about how God loved her. And she knew He didn't. He hadn't loved her enough to spare her family. He had let them die, and worst of all- He had let her live.

Susan trudged back to her house, put the key in the lock, opened the door. Inside, everything was drab and cold. Dead. Everything was very clean- oh, she made sure of that every day- but bare.

Where was Lucy, her sister with the golden hair, her infectious laugh, her smiles, her reprimands? Where was her little sister who helped her live, who had been what she, Susan, should have been to her? Where was Lucy?

She was in a cold coffin under the ground, a meaningless epitaph written into hard stone above.

Where was Peter, to make her feel like such a little girl? Where was Peter, her older brother? When she was with him, she always felt safer knowing he was there to protect her. Where was he?

He was dead. He was gone. And he'd never come back.

Never come back.

She'd heard those words before... where had they been?

You can never return to Narnia, dear one.

A warm breath, a kind, gentle, wise face, a lion-

Aslan. In Narnia. The Lion- the Great Lion.

She furrowed her brow in thought.

Aslan.

The very name made her feel almost- happy. Almost as if a beautiful strain of music had floated by. Almost as if-

How? Surely childhood games weren't that powerful. Edmund had changed from them, yes, but then, he'd had to change. He would have been so horrid if he hadn't.

Edmund, what made you change?

He had once been bitter.

Like her.

Her heart wrenches at the thought. He had once been bitter, he had once been unkind. He had lived in shadows. Like she was doing right now. Only he had changed. He had become more like Lucy, more like Peter. And in doing so, he had left her behind. Now there was nothing to remind her of him, only a small stone tablet erected above a mound of earth.

But they would be happy to have left her behind. Who would have wanted such a sister, filled only with deceit and bitterness?

I wasn't always bitter.

No. But then, she had only lived for parties and lipsticks and nylons and 'played' with boys, thick and fast. Lucy would never have done that.

Lucy, where are you? Why can't you come back? I need you, she thinks. Lucy! Lucy, teach me how to be good again.

Lucy can't help her now, though. She never will be able to, again.

She sinks to the floor, remembering. Once, when she had felt like this, she had been able to go to Aslan, and he would breathe new strength into her.

How had they created him? They couldn't have. And she realises suddenly, her heart skipping a beat- they hadn't.

The realisation is a light thrown into a dark room, a blind girl's eyes opened. A wonderful feeling of recognition. She hadn't always been blind.

Aslan!

But then, he was watching over her siblings. Not her. He had let her suffer. He had forgotten her when she turned her back on him. It was her paying the price she should have paid long ago.

Go back to sleep, Lucy. You've been dreaming.

Even then... even then her heart had begun to harden. Why? Why did Aslan let her forget him?

The room blurs as tears form in her eyes.

Why did you forget me, Aslan?

I didn't forget you, dear one.

A warm, caressing breeze.

Susan raised her face.

In front of her is a beautiful land. A land she has seen before. Her heart rises, and she realises suddenly- her heart had risen. It is there. It isn't frozen into stone anymore, it's there. It had always been there. Like Narnia. And she is there again.

Tears slide down her cheeks. Oh, the beauty, the bliss! To be able to cry, to wash away the stone which had frozen her heart and separated her from Aslan, from Narnia, from her siblings! Was there any greater beauty?

Where were they? Were they waiting for her? Had they remembered her? When would Lucy come? When would she see her, standing there, and when would she come and when would they meet again- in Narnia? When would Peter come, smiling in a worn way, before pulling her close to him and yelling at her, crying with joy? When would Edmund come, with a look on his face that told her he understood everything? When would Aslan come, breathe on her again? She had heard him, where was he? When would they come?

She looks around. There is the pass to Archenland- there are the Eastern Woods, there is the Lantern Waste, where she had first come to Narnia, there is the Ford of Beruna. She almost fancies she could see where the beaver's house had once stood.

There behind her is a castle on a hill- Cair Paravel. How many years has it been since she sat on the throne as Queen Susan? It can't have been more than twelve, but it seems so much longer than that.

She remembers the time of her coronation.

Queen Susan the Gentle, Queen Lucy the Valiant, King Edmund the Just, King Peter the Magnificent. Their reign had been the Golden Age of Narnia.

Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen. Bear it well, sons of Adam. Bear it well, daughters of Eve.

Bear it well! She hadn't borne it well! Not like Lucy, or Edmund, or Peter. They had remembered. She hadn't.

I remember now.

Was it too late?

It is never too late.

Aslan?

She searches again, and again, and again. And then she sees him. He has been there all along, beside her.

"Aslan!"

She throws her arms around him, burying her face in his mane, crying as she had once done.

You said I could never come back to Narnia.

I said the very same to your brothers and sister, and they all came back to a different Narnia. This is not the Narnia you came to, that was merely a shadow of this. You have let your memories grow with time, dear one, even though you tried to suppress them. You never truly forgot.

I thought you had forgotten me.

You were Queen Susan the Gentle. You cried over my body. How could I have forgotten you?

You let them die. You let them leave me. Lucy, Peter, Edmund, Mother and Father, the old Professor, Aunt Polly- even Eustace and his friend- oh- Jill. You couldn't even leave me my cousin or my cousin's friend. You let me alone.

Dear one, they have not left you. They are with you, each day, and they wait for you to see them.

How? How do you know this?

They are with me. And I am watching over you, always.

She closes her eyes and sees them standing in a line, waiting for her, and she sobs yet more brokenly.

I lived a life of emptiness.

You will not live that life anymore.

How will I be able to live when I return? You have sent me from Narnia too many times.

Know this: I will always be with you, Susan Pevensie. Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia. Bear it well.

Even as he speaks- if he speaks- his voice fades, and Susan raises her tear-stained face. She is alone, on the floor, in the hallway of her home. Outside, the sun is starting to shine through the breaking clouds. And despite the grief which still lies in her heart, Susan finally feels at peace.

Aslan is watching over her.

Please review!

(For those thinking of sueing me: I don't own anyone, so don't bother.)