Wish You Were Here, a mediator fanfic

Hey!

Okay, I know I should get to work on Jesse's Past, but you don't understand! I have up to chapter 7 written! Maybe chappy 8, I can't remember! lol I'm just waiting for it to get sent back to me from one of my betas (Don't worry, I obviously have a copy, duh).

Okay, this One Shot is dedicted to Olivia (MoonShine Fairy) because I didn't get chapter 6--or was it 7?--up of Jesse's Past for her birthday which I was going to dedicate that chapter to her.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mediator. Or Jesse. xSIGHx I also don't own Mark Will's WISH YOU WERE HERE or his Wish You Were Here CD. I also don't own Mediator 6: Twilight or it's small exerpt I used for my story.

I hope you like this, seeing as I wrote it for about two hours. Which isn't long, at all actually. I hate it when I get a chapter out in thirty minutes. I feel like I haven't really worked on it. Also, this is done without a beta, because I just wanted to do a spur of the moment thing.

Wish You Were Here

Lyrics by Mark Wills

Characters by Meg Cabot

Story by Mediatorgrrl

They kissed goodbye at the terminal gate
She said, "You're gonna be late if you don't go"
He held her tight, said, "I'll be alright
I'll call you tonight to let you know"

Susannah walked with me to the gate before the plane. I turned toward her.

"I'll be back in less than two weeks," I said. I was on my way to New York for an interview to see if the pieces of art and money that were found there belong to my 'ancestors'. Four years after I had 'died', my family had moved to New York to get away from everything that had happened that night.

"I know, but I'll still miss you. It will be the longest we have ever been away from each other," she said, pulling me into her.

"Give Mapi a kiss for me and tell Luke he should not try and cook until I get back to show him how." Mapi was our youngest daughter. She's seven months. Luke, our oldest, just turned ten and has an innate cooking desire. We had four other children in between them. Jarrod, he is seven, and a handful. He loves mischief. Louisa and Marta (after my sister), are twins and two years old. And then there is Daniel, age four, who has cerebral palsy. So far, it is not that bad, but the doctors say that it will advance as he gets older. He will be in a wheelchair by the time is seven, barely be able to lift his hands at, thirteen, and most likely not live past twenty. Susannah and I cried when we found out. All we wished for was a healthy family. We are thankful for Daniel. He is so smart. And his eyes are the same emerald green that Susannah has. I never thought that I could love someone more than Susannah and then we were given our children. It is a different love, but just as powerful as the one I feel for Susannah.

I kissed Susannah on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Jesse. If you don't go, you will miss your plane. I'll see you in two weeks."

"I'll be alright, querida. I'll call when I get there to let you know I am okay," I promised her. "Give the kids a hug for me."

She nodded. "Jesse… wait, hang on." She reached out a hand to put on my shoulder. "I—I… something… I don't feel right."

"Are you okay? You do look pale."

"No, it's not that. Something is going to happen. It isn't going to be good. I don't know… just… it feels like something is going to go wrong."

"Querida, I have flown on a plane before and they are perfectly safe," I assured her.

She kissed me on the cheek one last time. This one not as quick as the last. Her tongue trailed along my lower lip and she pulled away.

He bought a postcard, on the front it just said Heaven
With a picture of the ocean and the beach
And the simple words he wrote her
Said he loved her and they told her
How he'd hold her if his arms would reach

I stopped by the gift shop earlier and I bought a post card. On the front, it was very simple. It just had a picture of a beach that looked very much like Carmel. 'Heaven' was written on it in that loopy post card lettering. Susannah always says, 'Wish you were here,' whenever I have to go away for the weekend for the medical trips. As a joke, she once sent a post card of Carmel to the hotel I was staying at and said that quoted what she always said. I addressed the letter to our home. I didn't tell Susannah, but I had the same feeling she had… about the plane.

I took out my pen and wrote, on the post card, a verse from a song I heard once on the radio that just stuck with me:

Wish you were here, wish you could see this place
Wish you were near, I wish I could touch your face
The weather's nice, it's paradise
It's summertime all year and there's some folks we know
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here."

There is Gina in New York and her grandmother still lives in the city. They will have wanted me to say hi to her. The rest of that line, though, reminded me of Carmel more than New York City. So, I added at the bottom, "I wish I were home, so don't come too soon. I'll be home. I swear."

I kissed where I wrote her name and pulled a stamp out of my pocket and handed it to the lady with the basket who sends out the letters.

I boarded the plane. Something still didn't feel right. It was too late now, though, as I felt the plane's turbulence jar me as the mass lifted into the air.

I can't remember much of that plane ride. I was thinking of Susannah mostly. And our six children.

We were flying over somewhere in the Midwest when I noticed something materialize out of thin air.

Kyle. The ghost Susannah and I have been trying to mediate for the past two months with no success, whatsoever. He's been babbling about the title of the movie, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

We hadn't paid much attention to the news because we were busy looking in past newspapers, seeing as he appeared to be from a time not much later than mine.

We hadn't noticed that there had been excessive car crashes. And that a train had crashed just outside of San Diego. All with one family name in common, Ryder.

"Excuse me?" I called out to a stewardess. She turned around and immediately turned a very dark shade of crimson.

"Yes?" she asked, giggly.

"Could you please tell me if there is a man on this plane by the surname, Ryder?"

She took out a mechanical device and punched the name in.

"Why, yes—" That was when there was a huge lurch and a voice came over the PA system.

"We are experiencing some technical difficulties. If you could please remain seated, it would be much appreciated."

I reached for my phone to call Susannah and tell her… I don't know. To tell her I love her and that I might not be coming home?

Just as one word had entered my head, the world went black; it was too late to shift.

(Susannah's POV)

"Jarrod, come and help me get this off the shelf, please!" I called through the house.

"Coming!" I heard, yelled back at me.

Padding of feet hitting the stairs and then my small seven-year-old came bounding into Jesse's room and mine.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get on my shoulders and pull this shoe box down?"

I bent down and he climbed on my shoulders, like I was going to give him a ride.

"Now, be careful not to drop anything, cause mommy's pretty face is right below you," I warned. He giggled.

"What? You don't think mommy has a pretty face? Huh?" I asked, lifting one hand from his leg to tickle his side.

He giggled harder and wrapped an arm around my eyes, holding onto my head.

"I won't drop you, babe. Can you reach the box?" I asked him.

"Got it!" came a squeal from above.

She got a call that night but it wasn't from him
It didn't sink in right away, ma'am the plane went down
Our crews have searched the ground
No survivors found she heard him say

The phone rang in the background. I took the box from Jarrod and lay back on the bed backwards so he could fall off gently.

"I'm gonna get the phone. Those are pictures of daddy and me. You can look at them if you like."

"Oh, uh. Okay," he said, looking disdainfully at the box.

"Or you can go back to your book," I laughed. He has his father's love for literature. He scampered off to his room.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs. de Silva?"

"This is she."

"Mrs. de Silva, this is a Southwest airline attendant, calling about Flight 14. Carmel, California to New York, New York."

My heart thudded in my chest.

"Oh?"

"Ma'am, the plane went down." I thought back to a song that Jesse had made me listen to, even though it was country. Those exact words were spoken in that song. The news wasn't good. "Our crews have searched the ground, but unfortunately, there were no survivors found." The song said something like that too. "We are still looking, but we have found almost everyone."

I blinked.

"Ma'am?"

"I—I'm here. Um, what do you mean, 'the plane went down'. My husband was on that plane! There were no survivors? Did they look everywhere? My husband would have called! His—he has a cell phone! He would have called if something were the matter." I was about to say 'He would have shifted', but I think I would have made the girl confused. "I'm sure you didn't look everywhere! The plane couldn't have gone down. He told me! He told me it would be okay! He is supposed to be home in two weeks—"

"Mrs. de Silva! Please, we have searched everywhere. Almost every one who was on that plane has been found. There was no one, asfaras we can tell,who lived through that crash. I'm sorry for your loss."

I wanted to tell him where he could put his 'consoling words' but I couldn't make my lips form the words.

"No! Jesse, my husband, he's a doctor. He is so perfect. He and I have six children. He's not gone! He can't be. He told me! He told me…" I broke off with a sob. "No…"

"Ms. de Silva… I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Missus! I'm married, I'm not unmarried!" I screamed.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry," he said again.

I sobbed. No. He wasn't gone.

I hung up the phone. I didn't bother with the goodbyes.

Jesse… I called to him. I waited. He would have answered by now.

He could have shifted his body back to Carmel. He could have done something!

Why won't he answer my telekinetic call?

The phone rang again.

I let it ring. I had crawled up to our bed and picked up the shirt he wore yesterday and had thrown at the end of our bed. I held it up to my face and smelled it. I smelled his collar. I could almost feel the hair on the base of his neck in my fingers. His shampoo filled my nose. His subtle cologne wafted up my nose when I got to the middle of the polo shirt.

"Jesse," I screamed into the shirtfront. "Jesse, you promised."

I lay down in the pillows and curled up. "Jesse," I moaned, letting out a choking sob.

The week pasted as a blur. Nothing seemed to make sense and if it did, it didn't last in my memory for more than fifteen minutes. They didn't hold Jesse's funeral yet, seeing as they have to recover all the bodies properly.

I told our children that as much as daddy loves us, he wasn't going to be able to come home this time. That he had to go to heaven, because God wanted him to do work for Him. When Luke asked why God wanted his daddy, I improvised and said, "Because Daddy does so many nice things for children on earth that God wants him to do nice things for kids in heaven."

When Daniel said that he didn't want to help little children because he wanted to stay with his family, I had to walk out of the room for a moment to collect myself and come back in, only to comfort Jarrod, who informed me that he was promised by his 'paddy' (He mixed 'padre' with 'daddy'.) that Jesse would teach him to swim this summer and that he was going to miss his daddy. Louisa and Marta were very quiet through all of this. I turned to them.

Marta said, quite simply, "I'm going to miss him."

"Me too, sweetie," I said, pulling her into my arms next to Jarrod. "Louisa?"

"He told me he wouldn't leave. He told me the night before he left that he would be back. He promised. I told him I had a dream about a plane crashing and that I didn't want him to go. But he just gave me a kiss and held me until I fell asleep. But he isn't coming. He lied to me!"

I blinked back my tears. "Oh, Lucy," I blubbered, using her nickname. "Daddy didn't have a choice. If daddy had a choice, he would have stayed with us."

But somehow she got a postcard in the mail
That just said Heaven with a picture of the ocean and the beach
And the simple words he wrote her
Said he loves and they told her
How he'd love her if his arms would reach

I thought of Jesse everyday. It was only two weeks since he died. My mother had signed me up with a therapist and all my children. Except Mapi. I was checking my mail about a week later, and I pulled out a postcard. That's weird, I thought, with a pang of sadness. Nobody is traveling right now.

The words said, in Jesse's boxy, precise handwriting (unusual for a doctor's normal scribbling):

Then, at the bottom, he scribbled in, in a more doctor-like style:

"I wish I were home, so don't come too soon. I'll be home. I swear."

Heaven…. It sounded like how he would describe Heaven. He loved the beach. There are people in heaven that would say that. My dad. Jesse wouldn't want me to pass on soon. That is why he wrote that at the bottom. It gave me chills at how well that fit in, even before he died. A single tear fell and smeared some of the ink.

"Susannah!" someone shouted from behind me.

I froze. That voice. That silky, smooth, yet deep and husky (in just the right moments) voice sounded through the warm, serene Carmel silence.

I turned slowly. And it happened all over again.

…And I was falling, as hard as I did every time he looked at me, into the deep dark pools that were Jesse's eyes…

"Jesse," I whispered. "How?"

"I shifted. Just at the last moment. They won't find my body, but I figured we would work around that, somehow. Together, we could work on it together," he whispered.

I was in a daze. "Jesse…" I whispered again.

"I'm home, Susannah; I'm home." He took me in his arms and held me. I wound my arms around his waist and pulled him closer to me than ever. I took in the smell that could only be Jesse.

"I've been mediating that ghost, Kyle, these past couple weeks. He's been tough. But I did it…." Jesse was rambling. He sounded breathless.

"God, I missed you, Jesse. I love you so much." And I kissed him. Hard. We parted and just stood there, holding the other one up.

He put his hand on the back of my head and whispered sweet Spanish things in my ear. One word I recognized. Querida.

Good Lord, how I missed that. It had been only two weeks, but I had thought my one love to be dead.

"Jesse," I murmured at the same time that Jesse went, "Susannah."

"Jesse, this may not be paradise, but the weather is nice. It is pretty much summer time all year and…" I trailed off, thinking of that song and trying to remember the next line. "The folks, inside our house, they say, 'Hello'. They really miss you and wish you were there."

"I'm glad I'm home in paradise, querida."

The weather's nice, in paradise
It's summertime all year and all the folks we know
They say, "Hello, I miss you so, wish you were here"
Wish you were here

There you go! Hope you enjoyed it, now PLEASE REVIEW! It MIGHT make me update faster on Jesse's Past...? Always something to think about if you like/read Jesse's Past...

Now I have to go to bed because it is now 2:10 AM.

Love everybody,
MG