Disclaimer – The Mediator belongs to Meg Cabot. I have no idea who owns the 'A True Boyfriend' poem/ list thingy. Whoever it is, they're a genius. I'm just borrowing it with no ownership.

Rating – T

Summary – When she walks away from you mad; Follow her. When she stares at your mouth; Kiss her. When she pushes you or hits you; Grab her and don't let go . . . Vignettes between Jesse and Suze, based off a profile list. Showing how true a boyfriend Jesse is to Suze . . . All set after 'Twilight'.

A/N – I came across 'A True Boyfriend' poem/list and as I was reading through it, I could just envision the scenes happening between Suze and Jesse. So I got writing, putting whatever came into my mind with that particular phrase and before I knew it, I'd got this much done. There's more to go, but I don't have time to do them now so I'll finish it tomorrow. Be warned, I've never written third person before. So I really hope I haven't fudged it up too spectacuarly. But I hope you enjoy it. :) Reviews are love!


A True Boyfriend

When she walks away from you mad . . .

Throwing Jesse one last scowl, her ire with him snapped to the limit, Suze turned her back on Jesse and walked away, determined not to talk to him. Determined not to even let him know just how much she wanted to smash something or yell at him. All the while, silently begging for him to come after her. To erase the anger and throw it to the wind as fleeting as the sands through time. But after taking ten steps forward in the direction of home, Suze sighs, her head dropping; he's not going to follow.

So lost in her disappointment that they can't even sort through one small misunderstanding, she doesn't notice he's five steps behind her, his feet silently treading the leafy path after her. His warm brown eyes watching her every movement, tracing the slim frame of waist, the slight hitch in her shoulders, the way her hair drapes past her ears to cover half her down-turned face. Jesse doesn't say a word. He just follows her silently, until she reaches her house.

Only when she starts to climb the porch stairs does Suze turn to glance behind her, suddenly aware of eyes fixated on her back. With a hitch of her breath, she sees Jesse standing at the bottom of the driveway, watching her with the same intensity as before.

Suze knows then . . . he did follow and come after her. With it, their misunderstanding was forgotten.

Follow her.

xXx

When she stares at your mouth . . .

The club Suze persuaded Jesse to go to with her is loud, booming, the sound of the base from the speakers vibrating through both their bodies. People barge past them, knocking her into the arms of her love. With an easy smile, Jesse steadied her, keeping an arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close. Getting back to bobbing her head to the song, Suze lets the feeling of standing in Jesse's arms seep into her soul, making her nerve endings stand to attention. It's a new experience, being able to go to a club. So the alcohol wasn't flowing, but that was okay. Just getting to spend some time with Jesse is enough.

Just like knowing that Susannah is more than happy that he agreed to go to the club with her. It's not his thing; too loud; too many people and too much of an atmosphere; but she wanted him there. What could he do but to accept? He knew they wouldn't stay the whole night. Sooner or later Susannah would get sensory overload and want to dash out the doors as quickly as possible. He was prepared for that. Anticipating it, even.

Gaining Susannah's attention with a quick squeeze of her waist, Jesse waits until she's looking at him before he starts to speak. "How are you doing?" He asked, calling over the loud music. But that's not enough. Indicating she can't hear him, Suze's eyes drop to his lips, transfixed by the movement as he repeats his question. When he notices she's not heard, or read, a word he said, his lips quirk into a grin, her eyes following the movement.

Slowly, Jesse drops his head to press his lips to Susannah's. The touch is warm, familiar and comforting. If she's going to watch his lips, he's going to kiss hers. It's a second best to looking into her eyes and a place he'll go again if he catches her staring at that particular part of his face again.

Kiss her.

xXx

When she pushes or hits you . . .

The raw intensity of the grief pumping through Suze's veins, making the tears spill down her cheeks more and more, is the same grief that whips the breath from her lungs, weakening her even more. She's mad . . . So incredibly furious, she doesn't know what to think! What to feel! All she wants to do is lash out at someone! To make them hurt as much as she's hurting inside. How can she feel so much pain without it crippling her?! She can't understand it. But she wants to vent it another way. She has to!

Spinning around from the touch to her shoulder, stopping her from punching the pillow she's been battling; Suze doesn't even stop to think about what she's doing, who she's hitting. She just lashes out, again and again. Kicking, punching, and shoving at Jesse to back off. Venting her grief and anger out on the one person that just happens to be there, feeling the same pain she is, because he can't take it away. So instead, he lets her beat at his chest, her fist lashing out wildly until he's had enough.

In a move so quick, Jesse grabs Susannah's wrists and stops her from lashing out. Instead, he holds her away from him, even while she fights to try and hit him some more.

Slowly and painfully, she looks up at him, the fight gone from her body, the tears hanging on the lashes of her eyes, waiting to fall like splintered crystals down her cheeks. Jesse feels the pain even worse than before. But takes comfort that some part of that pain has been released. That it's gone from her body and released in to his. His hands slacken on her wrists, but he still holds on to her. He says nothing, and neither does Suze.

They just stand in the shadows of their grief, the fight gone from them both.

Grab her and don't let go.

xXx

When she starts cussing at you . . .

Leaning casually against the bedpost of her bed, Jesse watches Susannah pace back and forth in front of him like a caged animal. Her frustration and annoyance seep off of her in waves so palpable, he can taste it on his lips when he licks them, hoping to get rid of the dry feeling. It had been close this time; a ghost had gotten a little too personal. And it could have been dangerous if Jesse hadn't have stepped in when he did. It was worth watching her pace her carpet backwards and forwards, wearing a groove with her thick boots.

"I don't give a damn what you thought, Jesse!" Susannah rants, her breath coming in quick, rapid gasps. "I could've handled it! I was, handling it! Its bullshit that you think you can just take over! After all this time, you still think I'm going to fall through the cracks and let some dumb-ass ghost get the better of me!"

Falling silent, Suze ran a hand through her hair agitatedly; because she would never admit to Jesse that she was worried about that exact same thing. That somehow, she'd grow complacent and a ghost really would hurt her worse than any time before now. It was the exact reason for her annoyance. It wasn't aimed at Jesse. It wasn't even aimed at the ghost! Not completely anyway. She just hated the thought of Jesse seeing her nearly taken down by a pesky spirit and having him come to her rescue . . . again!

Not that she wasn't grateful; because she was. But still!

"Next time you decide to try and take over – "

Stepping forward in the middle of her new rant, Jesse cupped Suze's face in his strong tanned hands and kissed her deeply. "I love you, querida." He murmured when he pulled away, his voice sure, strong and held with as much conviction as his eyes held. Unblinking, unwaveringly watching her.

Visibly deflating at his choice of words, Suze lowered her arms to her sides. The small crease forming between her eyebrows starting to waver. Whether it's from the way he said it so determinedly, like nothing else mattered; or because it was the perfect thing to say to make her forget about everything that had happened in the past three hours, she doesn't know. Either way, suddenly she was tired of cussing and reaming him out. Suddenly, all Suze could do was smile.

What else mattered, after-all?

Kiss her and tell her you love her.

xXx

When she's quiet . . .

The night was as silent as the beautiful girl sitting beside Jesse, her eyes thrown out to the water in the distance, reflecting in her eyes. She's been quiet the whole night. Not a sigh or a moan from the cold. Just a fixed stare, blinking every now and again. But never, a word said. For Jesse, considering its Susannah, it's a disconcerting feeling. It's unusual and too quiet. She usually has something to say, whether it's from something someone said, or a question he couldn't possibly answer. But usually, words have been said.

But tonight, her silence is worrying.

When Suze feels Jesse's arm wrap around her shoulders and draw her up to his side, she doesn't resist him. But nor does she look up at him with a smile, or a certain look in her eye either. Feeling his arm tighten fractionally from her lack of reaction, she absently lays a hand on his thigh, her eyes still fixed to the horizon in the distance. She knows he worried, she can feel it in the coiling of his tense body beside her. He radiates it like he radiates warmth. So much heat, she doesn't feel the cold.

But Jesse's words break through the silence. "Susannah . . . What's wrong?" He questions quietly as if scared she'll break into a thousand pieces from the sound of his voice.

Finally, the words she knew he would ask shatter through her haze and her head turns to stare up at him. Suze's smile isn't forced and pasted on to her face to withhold his concern. It's genuine, pleasant and mysterious. "Nothing." Suze said firmly, her hand flexing and applying the slightest pressure on his thigh. She's just entranced by the solitude, the dreamy mist of peace hanging around her. She doesn't want to lose it. Not when Jesse's sitting beside her, just as free as she is.

Susannah's answer, at least, reassures him. Returning her smile after he's searched her eyes, he turns back to stare out at the night with her. Both at peace for a short time.

Ask her what's wrong.

xXx

When she ignores you . . .

Feeling Susannah shifting restlessly behind him, Jesse puts her constant fidgeting down to boredom. Looking down at the paper in front of him, his eyes read over the print, taking in the news and the latest crises arising around the world and in his own backyard. It always leaves him with a sour taste to his mouth knowing that the world has descended down further into hell since he was alive the first time. It's disappointing, scary and a thing that shouldn't keep him awake at night, but does anyway. He's not Superman, he can't save everyone.

But he can protect his own world he lives in with Susannah.

"Can you believe this? Another murder in only two weeks . . . I hope they find the perpetrator soon. Those poor families . . . " He trailed off, realizing with a shock that Susannah is no longer shifting restlessly behind him. Turning, he sees her standing in front of the window, her back rigid straight. "Susannah?" He questions, with no response.

Suze knows its childish ignoring him, but sometimes she gets so fed-up of him wondering over the woes of the world. She realized a long time ago, there's no point dwelling on what you can do nothing about. Another person has lost their life, and she's sorry for that. Truly she is. But she can't do anything about it. Why can't he concentrate on what's in front of him first. Appreciate and enjoy what he has. It's not selfish; it's life. So she ignores him. Waiting for him to open his eyes again.

She's not expecting it when he steps up to her side and slowly turns her around so she's looking at him, though. But what he says next, makes her wonder if she got it all wrong in the beginning. Maybe it's she with the skewed vision of the world and not Jesse. His statement would seem so.

"You have my undivided attention, querida," Jesse said, his hands rubbing over her shoulders gently. "You always have."

Suze need never doubt that about Jesse.

Give her your attention.

xXx

When she pulls away . . .

Sometimes, having to let Susannah go feels like losing a limb to Jesse. It can be something as simple as watching her walk away from him until the next moment they would see each other again. It could be watching her disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes, knowing she'll be back in a matter of seconds. Having her hand slip from his, dropping away and severing the connection. But it doesn't matter what it is, it always feels as though he's losing a piece of himself as she goes.

It makes his skin crawl with icy awareness.

Suze has no idea she affects him in such a way. What could she do if she did? How could she reassure him she's not going to drop away into oblivion, never to be seen again? There is no way to reassure someone, who feels the same way when she has to walk away, of that. For Suze it stems from watching Jesse's spirit being sucked back into soulless body, not knowing if that was it; if he was gone or not. But she'll never know Jesse's fear comes from the one time he was exorcised, ripped from Susannah in a cruellest way, because he thought she was the one who did it.

But it doesn't matter what the reasons are - they both feel the same.

So when they kiss their last kiss of the night, trying to memorise the taste of their skin; the texture of their tongues; the softness of their lips and the pressure of their mouths to their memory, it's with a heavy heart and a reluctant body. Suze pulls away first, because she's the one that has to walk away from him. But this time . . . Jesse pulls her back. She whips back around with a gasp, her body fitting to his like it was carved from the same mould, his arm trapping her against him.

Maybe this time . . . neither has to pull away.

Pull her back.

xXx

When you see her at her worst . . .

Suze stares into the mirror, sighing at the dark circles carved into her cheeks under her dull, spark-less eyes. Raising a shaking pale hand, she tries to fluff her hair and make it look less limp and lifeless as it does. The gesture fails epically. Slumping her shoulder beneath her old t-shirt that's so faded from age and washes, the colour isn't distinguishable anymore. She can't even make out the slogan on the front. Or remember what it said, for that matter.

Moving out of the bathroom and back to the space Jesse's occupying, her feet drag across the floor. She's not sick; its worse . . . She's exhausted. School work, coupled with extracurricular activities that won't show up on her College application because being a mediator isn't exactly a proven fact; doubled with real extra curricular activities to keep her Mom happy, it's all piled on top of Suze. And she's looking like crap to prove it.

Looking up from the show he's not really watching on the television, Jesse smiles warmly as Susannah approaches sluggishly.

When she drops down onto the couch beside him, sighing with the effort, he gently cups her chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking down into her deep green, tired eyes without flinching. His free hand traces over the dark circles shadowing her face, runs over the limp strands of her hair, sifting them through his fingers like it's as soft as Angel's wings. He fingers the cotton of her shirt worn with love and comfort and finally raises his eyes to her again. A spark shooting from Jesse's eyes to Susannah's.

"You look beautiful to me, querida." Jesse says with the love and kindness he touched her with.

With those simple words, suddenly Suze is looking more radiant and glowing, than any facial session has ever done.

Tell her she's beautiful.

xXx

When you see her start crying . . .

When Susannah said she wanted to visit his grave-stone, Jesse expected what was going to come. He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to shield her from the emotions that would inevitably come during her visit. He wanted to persuade her to put it off, just a little while longer. But he knew without doing any of those things, that Susannah wouldn't listen anyway. She's always tried to be stronger, braver when it comes to this kind of pain. He wants to tell her it's not a weakness to feel it.

So Jesse does the only thing he can do . . . He goes with her and gives her the support she needs to face it.

For almost fifteen minutes, nothing happens as they stand over his grave, reading the words etching into the marker with love, precision and finality. At one point, Susannah dropped to her knees and traced the lettering of each word, slowly, murmuring the inscription under her breath soundlessly. He only moves to help her when she pulls herself up to stand. His hand on the small of her back, watching and waiting for the rising tide, sure to come. His attention no longer on the grave he's visiting with the same grief she holds; but on Susannah at his side.

Waiting.

He doesn't wish for it to come, and when it does, he feels a cold crippling hand squeeze around his heart and try to rip it out of his chest. The tears are slow and silent as they drip down Susannah's face one after the other. But within seconds of them coming, Jesse's arms are wrapped around her. His face buried in her neck, crushing her to him, rocking them both back and forth on the spot. His hand moves up and down her back rhythmically, but that's all he does.

Jesse doesn't say a word to comfort her, because there's nothing he can say to make it better. So he holds her, riding out the pain and waiting for it to pass.

It's all Susannah needs.

Just hold her and don't say a word.

xXx

When you see her walking . . .

The day had been as long and as tiring as the days before it for Suze, as she walked out of school, already decided she was going to walk home instead of taking the offered lift from her friends or arranged ride with Dopey. As tired as she is, she's energized enough the walk. She's wearing comfortable shoes, her bag is light for a change, there's no reason not to. She knows one thing that could make it better, but she doesn't dwell on that for long. Already hitching her bag higher on her shoulder a small smile dancing along the edges of her lips.

Jesse watches her from the shadows of the gates of her school, curious of why she was deciding to walk. He'd been waiting there before it was time for her last class to end, so he could catch her before she got into the Land Rover she shares with Bradley, or into the bright red VW Beetle belonging to Adam. But he needn't have worried, because she'd strolled right past both cars and made straight for the gates. So curiously, he watched her for a few seconds, before setting his feet into motion.

He had to side-step a few other school students of different ages before he gets even remotely close to her. But when he does, his arms wrap around her waist from behind, stopping her stride dead with a gasp before Suze realizes the familiarity of the arms wrapped around her.

Smiling, her final unspoken wish granted, Suze leaned back against Jesse, knowing he'd take her full weight without a problem. Nuzzling her neck and making her giggle with pleasure.

It's the most musical sound to Jesse's ears as they continue her walk for home, one of his arms never leaving Susannah.

Sneak up and hug her waist from behind.

xXx