AN: Hey everyone! Well, it seems that Watching Your Language failed
miserably, and now lays abandoned in the underbelly of Fanfiction.net, so I
started my new fic, which I hope will be slightly more popular. It's called
Waking Up To You, and I hope that it will be somewhat interesting, and not
a real snoozer.
Please point out any awkward word choices, this isn't my first language, even though I've spoken it since I was like two, as my mom can't speak Italian very well, and my dad only spoke Italian and sign language when I was little, and I guess I spoke English at the same time, just not as well, since Nonno and my cousins and stuff all spoke Italian. My family is "just off the boat" ^_^. Back to the point, I am not as comfortable in English as I am in Italian or ASL, so point out any odd word choices. Thanks.
Hi, Gorbash! Fireblade! Anyone else! Hee hee hee.
Oh yeah, I don't own this stuff. Wish I did. Don't tho. Okay. Bye.
They were soft, and oh, so comforting, pressed against my own. I could never, never forget the feeling of those lips on mine. They weren't warm, but soft, they were the softest lips I had ever felt in my life. My eyes fluttered open slowly. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing the same clothes he always wore, and looking nothing less than hot in them.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes opening to reveal they're inky blackness. "Are you awake now, Suze?" he asked silkily.
"No," I answered sexily. "I'm still dreaming." I knew I was. I had to be. Jesse never would wake me up that way, no matter how much I wanted him to. I opened my eyes suddenly and sat up, looking around my room. I knew I was dreaming! So why am I so disappointed?
No Jesse. He never showed up anymore. This is getting depressing. I slid out from under my warm sheets into my slightly cool room. It's never cold in the mornings, since Jesse always closes my windows. It's nice to know some things never change. Even if those things include the fact that he's never going to wake me up by kissing me. No matter how nice that would be.
I sighed and got dressed in my bathroom, just in case he decided to pop by for school. Which he did. I jumped as I heard, "Susannah!" I swung open the door. "What?" I asked, since he looked unusually pale.
"Querida, there are news cameras at the school!"
I raised my eyebrow, a gesture he usually gave me. "They're probably just doing a documentary or something. Why are you so scared?"
"Because Paul and Father Dominic are being interviewed. querida, it's a report on mediators. They wanted to have Slater interview me!" He looked enraged, his face just saying, "Those news reporters wanted to get Paul Slater to talk to me?!?"
I walked over calmly, despite the fact that my heart was beating faster than a million miles a minute. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. "Calm down," I whispered to him. "It'll be okay. It's gonna be fine." Maybe it'll be fine. I mean, they might think Paul is a psychotic young child.
"I hope so," he replied, kissing my ear. "I need to get back to help Father Dominic. When you get to school, try to avoid the reporters. I would bet Paul has told the reporters about you as well."
"Susie!" Mom called. Mom?
Jesse dematerialized right when Mom burst into my room. "Honey, I just got a call to do a report on a situation at your school." I felt the blood rush from my face. "Oh, yeah?" I whispered, startled.
"Susie, they say it's students who can speak to the dead. Your name is on the list. and there are only two names." She looked me straight in the eye, but I couldn't look back. My eyes darted to the carpet. "Susannah, I-why didn't you tell me?"
I didn't say anything.
"Oh, Susie," she cried, pulling me into her arms. "Your father. he always was dealing with those ghosts! That day he went out jogging, I knew, I knew it wasn't a heart attack, oh Susie, please stop, I, I don't want to see." She trailed off, sobbing heavily.
"Mom. could Dad see ghosts too?"
"And what do they do? He helps them his whole life, and what do they do? They. they killed him, Susie, stop, please, before." she continued inaudibly by the end of it all.
I could feel the tears start to flood into my eyes, my nose started to tingle, a sure sign to the start of a sob fest. "Mom," I cried into her blouse, surely destroying the silk. "Mom, I can't, I can't just stop," I said. "I don't want to, either, Mom. I have to go now." And I grabbed my backpack, and walked to the car. Since Mom had a story there, we went together. Maybe, maybe if I went to school with a reporter they wouldn't try to mob me.
Didn't work. It took all of two seconds to get microphones stuck in my face. But Mom, Mom was totally cool in action! She stood up out of the car in one motion, very gracefully, and said simply, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, my daughter is a minor. It is against the law to speak to her without my expressed written permission." She actually had to shout this, before she asked me to introduce her to Father Dominic, so he could refuse an interview with her.
Wow, Mom. She was good. Then it hit me.
Everything that went on in New York, all the people who had died, Dad knew about, because his wife was a reporter. Mom became a reporter when I was just a year old. One year! She had a degree in political science, but she was helping my dad find out about the people he was helping! I smiled up at her, and continued to walk by her side.
Paul Slater came up to me. "Hi, Suze," he said sweetly. "Is this your mom? Hello, Mrs. Ackerman."
"Who are you?" she asked, looking at me incredulously.
"Paul Slater."
"Oh!" Mom took out her pad and pen. "Now, you sold out my daughter and yourself, despite the fact that the Mediator's Creed, as written in 1263 by German Mediator Ludwig von Huesser strictly forbids such actions. Why?"
Paul blanched. "Me-mediator's Creed?" he repeated.
"Yes, and you sold out my daughter, let's not forget that part." Mom looked at him mischievously. "Oh, but you say you're a shifter! Surely you know all about the Mediator's Creed, if you are able to divine the difference between Mediators and Shifters."
"Is that Jesse?" Mom asked, gesturing to him with her pen.
"Mom?!?" I cried. "You can see them too?"
"Of course I can," she said slowly. "I. I thought we went over this this morning."
I stepped back. "I thought that was Dad?"
"No, no, they killed him, but he couldn't see them. I could. You're father, he was an innocent bystander. He helped me, he said he was their lawyer, he knew, of course, but only I could see them. That's why I was so worried when you showed me the dead mouse. do you remember that? I thought that maybe you just happened to be holding it, and didn't even realize what you were doing, but, well, I just assumed you didn't know."
She pointed her pen at Jesse again. "Now is that Jesse de Silva?"
I nodded slowly. "Hola, Jesse, ¿comò está Usted?" she asked in her perfect Spanish, as usual.
"Bien," he breathed in shock. "¿Y Usted?"
"Bien, ahora, empecemos."
AN: Okay, that was that. thought I'd take a different spin on the whole, "I bet Suze's Dad was a mediator thing!" I hear that a lot, so, yeah, that's that.
Translations: "Hola, Jesse, ¿comò está Usted?" = Hello, Jesse, how are you, (formal, respectfully)?
"Bien," = Good.
"¿Y Usted?" = And yourself (formal, respectfully)?
"Bien, ahora, empecemos." = Fine, now, let's begin.
Please point out any awkward word choices, this isn't my first language, even though I've spoken it since I was like two, as my mom can't speak Italian very well, and my dad only spoke Italian and sign language when I was little, and I guess I spoke English at the same time, just not as well, since Nonno and my cousins and stuff all spoke Italian. My family is "just off the boat" ^_^. Back to the point, I am not as comfortable in English as I am in Italian or ASL, so point out any odd word choices. Thanks.
Hi, Gorbash! Fireblade! Anyone else! Hee hee hee.
Oh yeah, I don't own this stuff. Wish I did. Don't tho. Okay. Bye.
They were soft, and oh, so comforting, pressed against my own. I could never, never forget the feeling of those lips on mine. They weren't warm, but soft, they were the softest lips I had ever felt in my life. My eyes fluttered open slowly. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing the same clothes he always wore, and looking nothing less than hot in them.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes opening to reveal they're inky blackness. "Are you awake now, Suze?" he asked silkily.
"No," I answered sexily. "I'm still dreaming." I knew I was. I had to be. Jesse never would wake me up that way, no matter how much I wanted him to. I opened my eyes suddenly and sat up, looking around my room. I knew I was dreaming! So why am I so disappointed?
No Jesse. He never showed up anymore. This is getting depressing. I slid out from under my warm sheets into my slightly cool room. It's never cold in the mornings, since Jesse always closes my windows. It's nice to know some things never change. Even if those things include the fact that he's never going to wake me up by kissing me. No matter how nice that would be.
I sighed and got dressed in my bathroom, just in case he decided to pop by for school. Which he did. I jumped as I heard, "Susannah!" I swung open the door. "What?" I asked, since he looked unusually pale.
"Querida, there are news cameras at the school!"
I raised my eyebrow, a gesture he usually gave me. "They're probably just doing a documentary or something. Why are you so scared?"
"Because Paul and Father Dominic are being interviewed. querida, it's a report on mediators. They wanted to have Slater interview me!" He looked enraged, his face just saying, "Those news reporters wanted to get Paul Slater to talk to me?!?"
I walked over calmly, despite the fact that my heart was beating faster than a million miles a minute. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. "Calm down," I whispered to him. "It'll be okay. It's gonna be fine." Maybe it'll be fine. I mean, they might think Paul is a psychotic young child.
"I hope so," he replied, kissing my ear. "I need to get back to help Father Dominic. When you get to school, try to avoid the reporters. I would bet Paul has told the reporters about you as well."
"Susie!" Mom called. Mom?
Jesse dematerialized right when Mom burst into my room. "Honey, I just got a call to do a report on a situation at your school." I felt the blood rush from my face. "Oh, yeah?" I whispered, startled.
"Susie, they say it's students who can speak to the dead. Your name is on the list. and there are only two names." She looked me straight in the eye, but I couldn't look back. My eyes darted to the carpet. "Susannah, I-why didn't you tell me?"
I didn't say anything.
"Oh, Susie," she cried, pulling me into her arms. "Your father. he always was dealing with those ghosts! That day he went out jogging, I knew, I knew it wasn't a heart attack, oh Susie, please stop, I, I don't want to see." She trailed off, sobbing heavily.
"Mom. could Dad see ghosts too?"
"And what do they do? He helps them his whole life, and what do they do? They. they killed him, Susie, stop, please, before." she continued inaudibly by the end of it all.
I could feel the tears start to flood into my eyes, my nose started to tingle, a sure sign to the start of a sob fest. "Mom," I cried into her blouse, surely destroying the silk. "Mom, I can't, I can't just stop," I said. "I don't want to, either, Mom. I have to go now." And I grabbed my backpack, and walked to the car. Since Mom had a story there, we went together. Maybe, maybe if I went to school with a reporter they wouldn't try to mob me.
Didn't work. It took all of two seconds to get microphones stuck in my face. But Mom, Mom was totally cool in action! She stood up out of the car in one motion, very gracefully, and said simply, "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, my daughter is a minor. It is against the law to speak to her without my expressed written permission." She actually had to shout this, before she asked me to introduce her to Father Dominic, so he could refuse an interview with her.
Wow, Mom. She was good. Then it hit me.
Everything that went on in New York, all the people who had died, Dad knew about, because his wife was a reporter. Mom became a reporter when I was just a year old. One year! She had a degree in political science, but she was helping my dad find out about the people he was helping! I smiled up at her, and continued to walk by her side.
Paul Slater came up to me. "Hi, Suze," he said sweetly. "Is this your mom? Hello, Mrs. Ackerman."
"Who are you?" she asked, looking at me incredulously.
"Paul Slater."
"Oh!" Mom took out her pad and pen. "Now, you sold out my daughter and yourself, despite the fact that the Mediator's Creed, as written in 1263 by German Mediator Ludwig von Huesser strictly forbids such actions. Why?"
Paul blanched. "Me-mediator's Creed?" he repeated.
"Yes, and you sold out my daughter, let's not forget that part." Mom looked at him mischievously. "Oh, but you say you're a shifter! Surely you know all about the Mediator's Creed, if you are able to divine the difference between Mediators and Shifters."
"Is that Jesse?" Mom asked, gesturing to him with her pen.
"Mom?!?" I cried. "You can see them too?"
"Of course I can," she said slowly. "I. I thought we went over this this morning."
I stepped back. "I thought that was Dad?"
"No, no, they killed him, but he couldn't see them. I could. You're father, he was an innocent bystander. He helped me, he said he was their lawyer, he knew, of course, but only I could see them. That's why I was so worried when you showed me the dead mouse. do you remember that? I thought that maybe you just happened to be holding it, and didn't even realize what you were doing, but, well, I just assumed you didn't know."
She pointed her pen at Jesse again. "Now is that Jesse de Silva?"
I nodded slowly. "Hola, Jesse, ¿comò está Usted?" she asked in her perfect Spanish, as usual.
"Bien," he breathed in shock. "¿Y Usted?"
"Bien, ahora, empecemos."
AN: Okay, that was that. thought I'd take a different spin on the whole, "I bet Suze's Dad was a mediator thing!" I hear that a lot, so, yeah, that's that.
Translations: "Hola, Jesse, ¿comò está Usted?" = Hello, Jesse, how are you, (formal, respectfully)?
"Bien," = Good.
"¿Y Usted?" = And yourself (formal, respectfully)?
"Bien, ahora, empecemos." = Fine, now, let's begin.