For Narnia and for ASLAN

Susan Pevensie: Fight (Icon For Hire)

(A/N: trigger warning for general sadness and thoughts that could be interpreted as suicidal. Stay safe, loves.)
(Another a/n: I'm still proud of this fic, because it shows genuine emotion, but since writing it, I've learned more about Lewis and Susan. So, not everything in this lines up with what I know now. Apologizes!)

I don't know how I got here
It was a dull autumn day and Susan Pevensie was crying.
A preacher droned on and on about life and death and how her siblings were in a better place. Susan wanted to scream. She wanted to cover her ears and leave. She wanted....she wanted...
But I refuse to stay!
She bolted away from the crowd of grievers as the preacher said "they are survived by their daughter and sister, Susan Pevensie."
No, they weren't survived by her. They weren't gone. They WEREN'T gone. They...were.... Gone.
I betrayed myself when I let others have their way
But I am holding on, my finger on the pulse, the sound of my heart pounding tells me there's still hope
She ran, faster and faster. Where it didn't matter. Away from there. She knew the people were whispering about her, pitying her, judging her. But she didn't care. Not just then.
But people don't like
When you put up a fight
She tripped and fell, bruising her shin and dirtying her skirt. She raised herself to her feet and ran a few more yards to a weeping willow tree in the cemetery.
She put her hand on its trunk and whispered, "Wake up." It didn't and more quiet sobs burst out.
"Aslan, why?" she cursed. She sank to her knees and pulled her hands to her chest, sobbing.
And slowly, ever so slowly
She was alone. Alone.
I am losing mine
She wanted to sink into the ground and let the dirt cover her. She wanted to join her family, her friends. Forever.
I'll fight
Fight
Fight
She couldn't rise, and didn't try. She cried until she could cry no more. The hollowness she'd felt for days replaced the agony that at least felt real and pure. The hollowness was the worst. It made her feel as dead as Lucy looked laid out in her coffin.
Or be taken out alive!
She knew the people would be waiting for her. Ready to "comfort" her. Ready to judge and pity and say meaningless things to her. She knew she had to go back.
Susan rose to her feet and went back to the funeral procession.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
When she rejoined them she saw the glances at her dirty dress and tear-stained face. She set her head in an upright position and set her face to a neutral expression. She felt crowded and alone all at once.
Standing on the edge, am I better off dead?
After what seemed an eternity, she could go back to her house, which had belonged to her parents. She was selling it and buying her own soon, her parents home was too painful. She didn't need more pain.
She started hot water in the tub. She pulled off the dark dress. The black dress that signified her mourning. She turned off the water and got in. "Alone," she whispered.
Alone.
The sound of the word echoed in her head. Alone. A lone. A loner. Her. Susan Pevensie. Alone.
This wasn't her.
How could I forget that I'm better than this?
She lowered herself under the water she didn't move. The air in her lungs soon expired. She didn't care. Her lungs released and bubbles floated to the top.
I've come too far to faint tonight!
She got up and out. She dried herself off and slipped back into a black dress.
She went to Lucy's room.
I'll fight
The light turned on as her hand found the switch. Pastel curtains framed a window seat looking out into the dark. Yellow paint on the wall was covered nearly all the way with drawings of fauns, mermaids, castles and animals. And kings and queens who looked familiar. All of it was the games Susan had discarded as she grew older.
Or be taken out alive!
The drawings were suddenly too painful to see. Something in her head hurt too. Something was trying to escape.
She had to leave. Her head hurt. She had to get out of there. She turned and ran from the room. No, not just the room. The house. She had to leave.
My thoughts are racing faster than my body can react
Fauns, animals, kings and queens. She had to run from them. Her heart pounded in her chest and her head. A car honked its horn as she nearly jumped into the street in front of it. She ran up the sidewalk instead.
But the danger doesn't register, the fear feels like an act
There, that was where Lucy had fell when she was three. There was where Ed had first stood up for Peter after.... After... That summer in the professors house. There was where Peter had had a fight to defend a kitten when some of the boys wanted to throw rocks at it. He'd taken it home to Susan.
All of it circled her as she ran down the streets at night where she had grown up. Where she'd turned from everything at first.
Don't pull the plug, I swear this isn't how I want to go!
"Miss?" an officer asked her. "Are you alright?"
I'm not, she thought.
Her face screwed up and she went the opposite way as him.
The sound of my heart pounding tells me there's still hope
She ran. More thoughts raced through her head. The time Lucy nearly fell trying to protect a tree. The time Edmund had stood next to Peter and destroyed the witchs wand. The time Peter had fought Calormen for a Talking Cat they wanted to use for entertainment. Susan had nursed that cat too.
But people don't like
When you put up a fight!
The memories struggled in her head. The memories she suppressed. The things she'd discarded as "games".
And slowly, ever so slowly
I'm losing mine!
She ran on and found a church. Not the church where the funeral had been held, but the church Susan grew up in.
I'll fight
She walked into the gate, hoping the door wasn't locked
Fight
The sliver of moon shone on her as she made her way to the front.
Fight!
She hand was on the knob, and she twisted it slowly.
Or be taken out alive!
It swung open. She walked slowly into the aisle until she was about half-way.
I've come to far to faint tonight!
I'll fight or be taken out alive!
She fell to her knees.
I survived on life support, but I'm stronger than I give myself credit for
These conditions only cure
When we prepare ourselves for war
She was so tired. So tired. So pained. So empty.
I'll fight!
Fight!
Fight!
Or be taken out alive,
No where to run, no where to hide.
Standing on the edge, am I better off dead?
How could I forget that I'm better than this?
But she was still Queen Susan the Gentle.
I've come to far to faint tonight!
She was the warrior and diplomat.
I'll fight, or be taken out alive!
"Aslan?" she whispered. "I'm sorry"
(Word count: 1184 excluding A/N)