Author: Shimmers
Rating: pg/pg13
Disclaimer: I don't own the Mediator series. I'm not making any money off of this fanfiction.
Set at the end of Twilight and the beginning of Shadowland. You'll see what I mean.
Other notes: I might make a series out of this if I can get my e-Books of the series to work again. And if people like the idea enough.

Dreams

"The only thing I don't understand," Jesse was saying, his breath warm in my ear, "is why is took him all this time."

I swayed in Jesse's arms, barely registering what he was saying. Jesse is a mediator, was all I could think. Jesse's a mediator now.

"Your father," Jesse said. "His moving on, I mean. Why now?"

I put me arms up around his neck. What else could I do?

"Do you really not know?" I asked him.

I smiled because I felt as if my heart might burst with joy.

We just danced the rest of the evening, smiling and talking about random things. I closed my eyes and put my head on his chest…

When I opened my eyes all I could see was white ceiling tiles, you know, like the ones they have at hospitals. I groaned as I tried to sit up. Everything hurt and felt weak, almost like I hadn't used my body for years. I lifted my arm, which was a pasty white for whatever reason, and found a needle attached to a tube that lead to some hospital equipment.

I sucked in a breath and tried again to push myself up with success. The door to my right opened and a nurse came in. When she saw me, she dropped her clipboard with a quite, "Oh my god…" The nurse – Nancy I think her nametag said – ran out of the room, probably to get a doctor, forgetting her clipboard in her haste.

Where was Jesse? Something wasn't right but beside the obvious, I didn't know what.

The door opened again and an aged woman walked in followed by Nancy. She reminded me a little of Father Dom in a way. The doctor, I mean.

"What happened?" My mouth felt really dry and my tongue felt like greasy sandpaper. And my voice cracked slightly, like I hadn't used it in a long while. I turned back to my arm. My skin was so pale and it had a nearly translucent tone to it, like I was dead. I shivered.

The doctor lady pulled up a chair next to me and sat down. Out of the corner of my eye I watched her push up her glasses.

"Miss Simon, I'm Doctor Margaret Norman. You where walking home from a carnival on the 13th of July with a friend of yours –" I cut her off,

"Oh… I kinda remember now. It's still really foggy though…"

"That's understandable. After all, you've been in a coma for a good three years." Once Dr. Norman said that my brain seemed to stop working. Three years. It had only been a year ago that I had moved to California to live with my mom, step-dad, and step-brothers… And since I met Jesse. But what Norman said meant that everything that had happened in Carmel was all in my head.

It wasn't possible. It had all been so real. There was no way I could have made it all up. I swallowed down a lump of nerves that seemed to have gathered in my throat. 'What if's bounced around in my head. What if Jesse… No, Jesse wasn't just a figment of my, well, imagination I guess. I swallowed again and glanced at my hands.

Which was real and which was in my head? I wasn't sure and the headache I felt building up behind my eyes wasn't helping in the slightest bit.

It had been three months since I woke up in that hospitals room. In that time, I began to forget what had happened in my coma induced sleep. I was attending a local high school as a senior in Brooklyn, having completed all the tests to see if I was up to that level, taking extra psychology classes and helping various ghosts when I had the time.

It wasn't until the school year was nearly over that my mom mentioned moving to a small town in California that I started to realize that maybe it wasn't just a dream. After all, a lot of people have said that there's all ways some bit of truth in every dream we have, even if it doesn't seem like it.

So I moved with my mom a crossed the country to live with my step-family and, unknown to everyone else, the ghost of an 18-centory hottie, if the dream I had when I was in coma was anything to go by.

And I really hope it was.