A/N: Just a short, fluffy little one shot. I came up with this as I was sitting on my bed and daydreaming, about what could have happened had Jesse not been a ghost. Set between Darkest Hour and Haunted (books 4 & 5). Not my best piece.
Disclaimer: The Mediator and all it's characters belong to Meg Cabot. I own nothing. I'm just a fan, fueling my obsession by writing Jesse-Suze fluff. The End.
Might Have Been
By Randomly Sarcastic
I sit here on my bed, pretending to do my homework, but secretly watching you over the top of my book. You're just sitting there, on the window seat, reading as you smile secretly at some private amusement. Perhaps from what you are reading…perhaps from something all your own.
You're absolutely lovely, did you know that? Seriously. The way your hair is all thick and dark and crisp looking…the way your smile shows off your white, even teeth…the scar through your right eyebrow…everything about you is perfect. So perfect it hurts.
Because really, what could ever come of my infatuation with you? Nothing. A big fat nothing. And all because of this one little teensy weensy thing…
You're dead.
Well, that and the fact that you don't seem to care anyway. Which is funny, because that day…when you kissed me…I really thought…for just a minute…that you…
Well, that maybe you loved me after all.
Now, of course, I realize how foolish I'd been. How could anyone like you…anyone so perfect, so amazingly wonderful like you…care about little old Suze Simon?
Still…I can't help thinking about what might have been. If you were, you know, alive. And right now, in the present day I mean, instead of back in 1850. About how things would be between us...
We'd have met some place normal…like…the Coffee Clutch. You'd be wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, instead of your cowboy/pirate garb. God, that'd be weird…you in normal clothes…but not a bad weird.
I'd be hanging out with CeeCee and Adam. Maybe you'd bump into me, and I, being the coordinated girl that I am, would drop my drink and spill it all over me.
You, of course, being the chivalrous gentleman that you are, would apologize profusely and I'd be about to threaten you within an inch of your life…
Only then I'd look up, and I'd see you. And my breath would catch in my throat and I'd start blushing. Because I'd realize that oh my God this guy is gorgeous.
After I manage to clean myself up a bit, you'd apologize again and offer to buy me another drink, to make up for the one you'd inadvertently caused me to spill. And I'd nod, and watch mutely, in a daze, as you ordered it for me, marveling at the pure wonderfulness of you. I'd wander where you'd gotten that scar. I'd wander how old you were, what your name was, where you lived…I'd want to know your whole life story.
And you'd smile and bring me my drink, and I'd go weak at the knees.
Then, to snap me out of my schoolgirl-with-a-crush-like trance, Cee would come up, Adam behind her, and jab me with her elbow.
"Suze, we were wondering where you'd gotten to!" she'd say, though she clearly knew where I was. Nevertheless, she'd pretend to have just noticed you, and go, "Oh! Who's your friend?"
"This is, er…" I'd go, and realize that I didn't know your name.
"Jesse," you would reply. "My name is Jesse."
Jesse, huh? I'd think distractedly. Jesse. It suits you
"Hi," Adam would say, rolling his eyes at the way we (Cee and I) would be gawking at you. "I'm Adam, and these two ladies are CeeCee and Suze."
"Suze?" you'd say, raising an inky black brow at me. "Short for Susan?"
"Susannah," I'd say automatically. "As in 'Oh Susannah, now don't you cry for me'?"
You'd smile. "Yes, I know the song."
Just like in real life. Except, as I mentioned before, that you'd be alive.
Or maybe I'd meet you over the summer, at the Pebble Beach Hotel and Golf Resort. And I'd be babysitting one of your sisters, instead of Jack Slater. You'd be the one to ask me to dinner at The Grill, instead of Paul. And while I said no to Paul, I could never say no to you.
I'd never have thrown up my bacon cheeseburger all over the side of the house, causing me much humiliation, either. This is because my stepbrother and stepfather would never have found your deteriorating corpse buried in our back yard.
And I'd never have to deal with Maria or Diego. Maybe I wouldn't even be a mediator.
Ha. I wish.
Anyway…I would, of course, have a huge crush on you right from the start. And our first kiss…our only kiss…
Maybe it'd be under the stars…right by the beach. Instead of in my bedroom, awkwardly interrupted my stepbrother Doc. Who couldn't even see you.
God. I don't even want to think about how weird that must've looked to him.
But we could hang out together, you know? And go to the movies and to the Coffee Clutch and to dorky school dances. Who knows? Maybe you'd even surf or something.
And no one would look at me funny because they'd be able to see that I'm not crazy, I'm not talking to myself or to some imaginary friend…I'm talking to you.
Would you, I wondered, still call me querida? Would you still insist upon calling me by my full name, rather than my nickname? Would you…
"Susannah?"
You speak, and I break out of my reverie with a start. Crap. I'm not really hanging out with you on the beach as I'd been daydreaming about. I'm sitting in my bedroom, staring at the same dreary spot on the same crummy page in the same stupid English book.
I turn to look at you, and you have your eyebrows raised in a quizzical manner. "Huh?" I ask intelligently, hoping I'm not blushing. Ghost powers don't include mind reading, do they?
"Are you all right? You looked a little…preoccupied for a moment."
I sigh, brought back to reality once more with a pang. "Yeah," I tell you, flicking my long brown hair over my shoulder in an attempt to act casual. "I'm fine. I was just…thinking."
"About what?" you ask, grinning now.
"Nothing," I squeak, and turn over, pretending to be busy with my homework. Out of the corner of my eye I see you shake your head in an amused manner, before returning to your book.
Oh Jesse, I think as I flip to the next page, what might have been…
Fini.