a/n: This story is a multichapter story that, depending on feedback will determine whether or not it gets new chapters added. Unlike 'Somewhere beneath the Narnian Moon', that will be posted to completion no matter what, this story is a work in progress and I need to know if the idea is even worth completing. If no one says anything, then I'll assume that the idea is dry, and no one is interested. No, it's not a guilt trip, but if I don't feel any motivation to work on it, then I most likely won't.

This, unlike other stories I have written does not focus primarily on the romance elements (although there may be some present in this story). It does, instead, has a premise of a love that goes much deeper than the romantic aspects of things. This story's primary focus is not on the Tumnus / Lucy element, instead, it focuses on the sisterly bond between Susan and Lucy. It also deals with a number of flashbacks, which will be noted in later chapters.

There are no incest or slash elements in this story, but there are some rather harsh scenarios that play out as well as adult language that might come up every now and again, thus being on the safe side, this story is getting a firm 'T' rating.

Hope you enjoy and as always, reviews are love.

Edit March 5, 2008...

I have been getting a few rude anonymous reviewers complaining here about the format, style and wording of this story. I will say it straight up, if you don't like detail in stories, you don't like an occasional cuss word, or are not fond of the premise here, tough. You don't like it, don't read it. I will not be nagged about the content of a story that is two years old.

I am no longer writing 'Narnia' stories so it is no skin off my nose if you read it; like it or hate it. Rude and pointless reviews will either be deleted or reported. So before you start reading this, decide if you really want to mess with a grouchy 30-something-year-old broad who has been writing fan fiction probably longer than some of you have even been alive.

This is blunt and to the point, but the comments that I have been getting about this story have finally made me decide to comment because it's bordering on harassment, and that is something I will not put up with. If you want something lighter, go to K or K-plus rated stories. This is a T-rated story and that is what it is going to stay.

Good day!

The Road Home

By: Yva J.

Prologue: The Mysterious Doctor

The walls of her room were white; no pictures, no mementos, nothing. The thick stone of it seemed to drift away into nothingness, leaving only what looked to be square shaped indentures in the wall. Outside the sign read 'Pleasantville Psychiatric Hospital'. She remembered when she had been brought here, and how the large blue and white sign in front of the building had defined what would represent an uncertain future.

Roughly, she was shoved out of a van and led inside the building, her eyes scanning the complex fearfully, but her gaze remained empty and lifeless. She had been jarred back to reality by the stony faced woman who met her at the door.

"Ah, I see our little psychopath has made it safely here," the woman had said mockingly, her voice cold and unfeeling. This was to mark the beginning of her experiences in this place. The times would be laced with abuse and ill-treatment.

Everyone seemed to regard her as though she was a criminal, but in fact, she was not. Instead she was a grieving woman who's depression and sadness could not be rubbed away. Sadly, the only human contact she really had was the cold woman with the pale skin and gray eyes. Her name was Delores Davenport, but her nickname amongst the patients in this place was 'Dr. Killjoy' because of the harsh and inhumane methods she used. This had been her means to 'help' her patients and with the assistance of two orderlies, physical pain had been the means in which to 'reach' them. Yet, instead of reaching them, she seemed only to succeed in wearing them down.

The young woman remembered the six agonizing months where no one stopped to exchange a kind word with her or try to help her. It was only after nearly being killed at the hand of this doctor and her two goons, did the establishment decide to take some sort of action. The physical torment and beatings had left a drastic impact on her, her body was covered with bruises and her weight had gone down drastically since arriving. She felt as though she was a hostage or captive in this place and she wanted out. Yet, all this time, she asked herself where would she go and what she would do if she did get out.

Even in sleep, her dreams were haunted by the unfeeling doctor with the steel gray eyes and icy personality. She shuddered every time she thought of this woman, sometimes waking from her dreams with tears streaming down her face and trembling violently. All that she could think of was how this all reminded her of an experience from long ago. On top of that, she heard rumors that Davenport had been removed from her case and that it would only be a matter of time before she would find out who specifically would be treating her.

It was an absolutely horrid situation, more horrible than anything that she had ever experienced. Alone and isolated, the shine in her eyes was gone, her faith dissipating like a snowball on a summer's day. Yet here she sat, trapped in a cold, cruel room, and nowhere in this place could she even begin to find peace.

She lowered her head and silently cried, no sound emerging from her instead, her body trembled as grief overwhelmed her. She had long since learned not to show emotions in this place. It would have been too hard for her to do this especially today, the anniversary of her family having died in that terrible train wreck.

I had once been a queen, she thought desperately, but I have forgotten and now I'm being punished for it. Above the doorway, a motion detector was placed, and she knew that no matter what she said or did, her movements were being monitored all day and night. She had trained herself to keep her feelings and emotions at bay so as to not have these strangers see inside of her heart.

The bed was hard, the mattress covered with a simple sheet and atop that, she sat lost and alone. She kept her eyes closed, a vacant expression shadowing her face. One could also see that her skin was pale, almost matching the walls that imprisoned her. Her clothing was simple, she wore a matching pair of white pants as well as a long sleeved t-shirt and cardigan. On her feet, she wore white tennis shoes. Everything was white, lifeless, colorless and this made her feel all the more cold and isolated inside.

On the far corner of the room, a small, door-less cabinet was placed, the edges and corners covered with foam rubber to keep the occupants from bringing undue harm to themselves. Inside were various articles of clothing folded and laying at the base.

Instead of doing anything that would catch the attention of those who kept her prisoner in this place, she sat motionless day after day on the bed and did nothing. She rarely ate or spoke to anyone. The only word she ever uttered was a single name…Aslan. But she provided those who monitored her no justification or explanation for having said that name at all. Instead, she took a vow of silence and said not a word.

She was twenty-seven years old, a virtual shadow of the glories that she had once been. She was not crazy, she knew that much, but society had long since made that decision for her since she had no family left. She could very well have gone crazy after the train accident, but she didn't, she simply lost her lust for life, sank into depression, and ended up in this desolate place.

Her hair, since being forced into this place had been cropped short in a pageboy cut, but the uneven hair made her look the part of a vagabond. As a girl she had thrived on looking good and having boys take notice of her, but now, she felt ugly and disgraceful. It was with this thought in mind that she was grateful there was no mirror in her room.

On one corner of the room was a window, with criss-crossed metal fencing covering it. It allowed some light from outside to drift into the room, but nothing more. The door on the other end had a small window, but it was hard to make out what was happening on the other side of it. The window itself was a concave like substance that made everything look bloated and undefined. After about two days of staring at it, she gave up. She knew that she would not see anything going on outside, and tried to forget about it.

She was cut off in this place, completely cut off from the rest of the world.

Seconds passed and she could hear the sounds of keys turning in the lock and a man who appeared to be in his early thirties entering the room. "Hello, Miss Pevensie, how are we doing this afternoon?" He asked softly.

We? She thought bitterly. I don't know about you, Mister, but I feel like shit. Instead of saying so, she shrugged her shoulders and took in his appearance.

The man was not too terribly tall, perhaps a few centimeters shorter than she if she were to actually stand straight up. The first thing she noticed about him once he had closed the door was that he walked with a slight limp. It was not overtly obvious, but having been stranded in this place, she tended to take in details.

His curly dark blonde hair was short and came only inches away from brushing the collar of the white lab coat that he wore over a gray colored suit. Two things struck her almost simultaneously, his blue eyes and the brownish red colored tie that was peeking out from the folds of his jacket and lab coat. These two aspects were probably the first bright and cheerful colors she had seen since coming here. She stared into his eyes for a moment until he moved closer to her and her gaze diverted. As he limped towards her, a memory flashed through her mind, but instead of thinking about it, she swallowed and returned her focus to the tie. This wonderful color seemed to remind her of the dark brownish red leaves on a crisp autumn day.

As he managed to reach her without any mishaps he sat down next to her on the bed. He did this because the bed was the only place in the room where one could sit down. The chairs had been taken out of the room because of the sharp corners, otherwise he would have seated himself across from her. The file he carried, he cast idly at the foot of the bed. She watched as he returned his focus to her all the while smiling gently. This was a first for her, usually people did not smile at all, instead they regarded her with disdain.

Hesitantly, she reached over and lightly touched the spot where the tie was gathered against his neck and his uniquely combed beard suddenly tickled her fingers and she drew back for a moment. The color from the tie seemed to almost beckon her to reach for it again, and after a few moments, she did.

The gentle smile remained on his face and he looked down at the broken woman who sat cross-legged on the bed. Instead of drawing away from her, he reached under the folds of the lab coat and gently tugged on the tie until it was free. This took her by surprise, and she wound her fingers around it, not gripping it, but simply holding onto it.

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. She had seen this man before in this place, but had never really spoken to him. If the truth were known, she never spoke to anyone here. She lowered her head once again, the most indescribable humiliation filling her. After several moments, she raised her head once more. Her eyes seemed to be taking in the bright colors that emanated him, but at the very same instant, she could not imagine any man seeing her in this state. As she raised her head, the shame literally swallowing her, but something made her keep her gaze locked on him.

"My name is Thomas Jenkins," he introduced himself, his voice a soft and gentle cadence. "I'm the doctor who will be taking over your case."

She shrugged her shoulders not caring. Her head once more lowered as she continued to stroke the tie, her fingers feeling as though they were touching the finest silk. Slowly, she lowered her hands and looked warily at him before running her hands along her bruised arms. As she did this, her body stiffened in pain and she found herself biting down hard on her lip trying to keep the tears of agony from streaming down her face.

Thomas watched her and from somewhere, there came understanding. Her silent actions were clear to him and he reached over and touched her shoulder, his hand stroking it gently. She stiffened momentarily, but when he spoke, his voice made her relax somewhat. "I was informed about what Dr. Davenport did to you," he said apologetically. "I can assure you that you will not ever have to see her again. Her case is being heard by the British Psychiatric Association and it is not looking good. That is, she and her cohorts will probably be put away as a result of their inhumane treatment of you as well as of others."

She nodded. If truth were known, she really didn't care. She wished somehow that the woman who had hurt her had succeeded in doing away with her. Then she'd be dead…dead just like her family. She blinked, but wrapped her arms further around herself, not fully trusting or allowing herself to let this man see into her world.

"I know it must be terribly difficult for you to be in this place. I read that you lost your family several years back, and you feel alone and isolated from everyone and everything," he said compassionately. "You've probably heard more doctors tell you that being here is for your own good. I don't know how true that is, and I certainly don't think you're crazy." He smiled mysteriously, his last words a mere whisper that only she could hear. "I do know that it will take time for you to trust me, but I am willing to try and earn your trust."

She nodded slowly.

"Let me see what I can do to help you, at least get you out of this room for a time so you can interact with others." His words emerged soft, his eyes seeming to be more like a mirror into his heart than anything else. "I do not understand why it is that they have decided to keep you isolated for what appears to have been the last six months. But, will you be patient with me while I try to figure all this out, won't you?"

The woman raised her head. This was indeed a strange question coming from someone whom she thought didn't care about her at all. After several moments of silence passed between them, Susan Pevensie's resolve somehow overrode her desire to stay silent. "T-thank you," she whispered meekly.

The doctor nodded as he rubbed his hand through his hair, stuffed the tie back beneath the folds of his lab coat, and stood up to go.

"Wait, please don't go," she raised her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with desperation as well as unshed tears.

He turned to face her, but crouched down so that he would be eye level with her. He said nothing, he simply looked into her eyes, his blue eyes staring deeply into hers. Gently, he rested his hand on her shoulder, the touch making her look back into the depths of his eyes.

"D-do I know you?" She whispered, her voice emerging as though in a trance.

He took a deep breath and sat back down, his back conveniently facing the door. "I cannot tell you that, but do try to remember, Susan." He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. "I want to help you find your way back home. That is why I'm here."

"Home?" She bit down on her lip, but no further words emerged.

"Yes, you see, sometimes it helps to remember the places you have been to, not necessarily the place where you presently are," he said softly as he once more got to his feet and reached for the file. "You are not alone, not anymore." He whispered and within seconds, he was gone.

Susan stared at the door once it had closed behind him. She looked down at her lap and shook her head as tears streamed from beneath her eyes. "But it hurts too much to remember..."