Disclaimer – The Mediator belongs to Meg Cabot. And 'Call of Duty' belongs to some other rich person/s.

Rating - T

Summary – Suze's POV. One-shot. Having lost Jesse to a very popular addiction over-taking the world of gaming, Suze finally throws a hissy fit, learning a helpful lesson by the end of it.

A/N – Holy smokes, look at this, an update! Omg! I'm actually surprising myself right now, hehe. I've been getting the smallest itch – yes, that writer's block still partially has me in its evil claws – to start writing the last few days. So I'm running with it! And when this suddenly came to me earlier, I just knew it was a good step forward, even if this isn't my best, lol. So be prepared – if I still have readers – for some more updates. I've done some for FWIL and I'm going to be working on 'Crashed In To You' this weekend too.

Got to have that up by Valentine's Day, it'll be its year anniversary after-all! ;-)

So as for this . . . I actually love CoD! I think it's an awesome game. But I've gone against that love for this one-shot 'cos I couldn't help myself, lol. I hope you enjoy, have a laugh, or even cringe from it, I don't mind, so long as it's a reaction! Lol. I know it's not my best; I really haven't made much effort with it. It's one of those sit down, write and post one-shots. But I look forward to any feedback for it. Once I shut up and let you actually read it. ^_^ It just feels good to be back over a three month absence!

Hugs and love to everyone!!! ;-) x

Call of Duty...

Take one breath in through your nose, hold it for three seconds and release it through your mouth slowly. Repeat twice more; or as self-prescribed . . .

It should say as much as needed so you don't wrap your hands around your gorgeous boyfriends very much alive, very much tanned neck to squeeze the life out of him! I wonder how many women in my position haven't stuck to the self-help of breathing through your nose - or was it in through your mouth first? - to calm your temper and frustration with your 'better' half. As if it's that simple to just let things like this slide any-way! I'm still waiting to hear about a wife, girlfriend - sister even - who's snapped at last and is getting sent down for murder or destruction of personal property.

I can tell you now; I'm about two seconds away from being that first news bulletin about it!

Take one breath in through your nose; hold it for a following three seconds. If you find you still have not calmed your breathing, count to six before slowly releasing it through your mouth . . .

Bullshit to this breathing technique crap!! It doesn't work at all; I still want to rip that damn controller out of his hand and smash it against a wall! I've been patient - Holy crap, I've been patient with him! But it's our fricking anniversary for crying out loud! And the most I've got out of Jesse is, 'Yes, querida. Just a few more minutes, querida. Of course, querida.' And it's not even as if he's saying that sweetly amazing nickname with affection of with extra depth like he always has before, either! I think I'm owed that much at least, for putting up with this . . . this . . . addiction for so fricking long!

Grrr, how can some woman stand it?!

And people say I'm crazy . . . Yeah, right!

"Jesse . . ." I pipe up after trying the crap breathing technique for the sixth time. I'm sure they don't expect you to keep trying after the third. You're pretty much a lost cause if you're still trying. A girl can keep right on hoping though, right? Right? Where's a ghost for company when you need one . . . "Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse." I repeat again and again and again just because I can. An irritated reaction is better than being ignored, trust me!

The sounds of gun-fire and shouts and a war-zone are my answer from the man sitting in the comfortable leather chair, his eyes peeled to the television screen.

I wonder if he's blinked in the last few minutes.

Ha! I'll laugh if he complains his eyes hurt. Not that Jesse ever complains if he's got a physical ailment. And there was me thinking he was all perfect and infallible and amazing and stuff. I shoulda known he'd get hooked on something like this. And I'll throttle Jake too for introducing him to it. Jesse's like a sponge! He soaks all this modern stuff up like its oxygen or something! This can be good for certain things. But when it comes to non-stop playing of a fricking war game - that's taking over every other male with an X-Box and making every other woman around them go mad from the vegetable state it's putting them in - it's not good.

Not to mention feeling like there's a third party to our relationship now. Or should I say, parties considering he's all about X-Box Live now.

Uh, how'd I manage to slip into having a normal relationship like every other couple? It's so . . . normal! Except for the whole being able to see ghost's thing of course.

Any-way, where was I? Oh yeah! Trying to get Jesse's attention like I've been trying for the past few weeks!

"HECTOR!!!" I bellowed. And I mean loud enough to make Spike race off Jesse's lap - hopefully using his claws at the same time - and disappear out of the room. Shame it didn't actually work on my beloved. He didn't even flinch! Not a flutter. NOTHING!!! I'm living with a zombie who has enough brains to play a video-game. My life has officially just turned into the one thing I've always wanted . . . normalcy. It's so . . . itchy. Kind of like this prickle at the back of my neck. Unless that's tension. Either way, it's uncomfortable. How do normal normal people live with this feeling? Yuck!

I took a breath in to shout again, but Jesse spoke up - without taking his eyes off the television of course! - before I had the chance.

"Yes, querida?"

Where was the sweet caress with which he says my name? The emotion, the depth, the affection? Where's the love?!?!

Gone!

Sucked into a video-game, lost forever, never to be seen again!

A bit over-dramatic maybe, but this is me we're talking about here.

I'm . . . I'm . . .

I know what I am . . .

I'm PISSED!!!

"That's it, I've had enough," I calmly - now it appears! - said to myself as I casually walked across the room to stand directly in front of the box, blocking his view. He opened his mouth to protest, his bloodshot eyes practically popping out of his head in the first real reaction I've seen out of him lately. Other than his Spanish cussing' he's been doing a lot whilst playing. I crossed my arms over my chest and raised a single eyebrow, interrupting him. "Oh, so you see me now? That's nice; I was beginning to think you might've forgotten about me, Jesse. You do remember me right? Susannah. The girl who went back in time and saved your life. The one who loves you unconditionally and puts up with you, somehow? Yep, that's me!"

"Susannah - "

"Oh it's, Susannah, now? What happened to, 'Just a couple more minutes, querida. Let me finish this one, querida. I haven't forgotten we're going for dinner at your parents tonight, querida . . .' I was getting used to those. I think I might, might, miss them if you stop using them now." I sarcastically threw in his lap. He was starting to look extremely panicked by this point and was trying to look around me to the television. Cringing along with the sounds that were coming out of it. I couldn't believe it! Seriously . . . what's more important?! CoD or your girlfriend? Guy's reallyneed to get their priorities straight!

"Querida, please - "

"Ack! No!" I interrupted Jesse again, raising my hand to hold off whatever bullshit he was going to try and feed me. "Jesse, dear, do you have any idea what today is?" I asked, watching him try and dodge my eyes and still play the fricking game being blocked from him. He was seriously speeding up the timer on the ticking time bomb of my temper. Just a little more, I mentally willed him. Just push me that little bit further, Jesse and you won't know what hit you!!

Low and behold . . . Jesse didn't disappoint.

First of all, he sighed all annoyed and frustratingly. "Valentine's Day?" And then he gave me this really . . . and I was surprised Jesse could even get to this point . . . reeeaaalllyyy dumbass answer. "Didn't I send you some flowers last week? I know I brought you some Ben & Jerry's, querida." This just completely obliterated that timer he was wasting quicker and quicker. Tick . . . Tick . . . BOOM!!! And there went my temper along with his X-Box and Call of Duty.

Because seriously . . .

WHAT ABOUT HIS CALL OF DUTY TO ME?!

So yes, I opened the tray to eject the evil game from its little hiding place and with a burst of strength; I snapped it in half and tossed the pieces into his lap. Then I ripped the X-Box out of its plugs, throwing them around the room - I'm pretty sure I was growling during all this too - and picked up the actual console, raised it above my head and dropped it back to the floor, listening to a satisfying crack and split of plastic when it hit the floor. It could've fizzed a little too.

"It's our fricking anniversary!!!" I screeched as soon as I managed to draw in a breath.

Satisfied with myself? Me?

Absolutely!!!

So I broke his game and X-Box worth quite a bit of money. But I enjoyed it! You can't beat therapy like that.

Because for now . . . Oh the power felt GOOOOD!

And the anger? It was gone. I was just left standing in the middle of a mess, looking at Jesse without the haze that's been surrounding him the last few days and actually saw him again. He'd sat back in his chair at some point and was just staring at me back in complete astonishment and surprise. I was half-expecting him to blow his top too, or grief for his beloved game. But then his lips starting twisting and curling. His eyes started to sparkle again and the love I've missed was back like it'd never been gone.

Oh sure, they were still blood-shot, but I could live with that. I probably didn't look like I'd be winning any beauty pageants myself. But just as good as seeing the love was the humor.

Geez did it feel good to laugh again! And I mean, really laugh!

By the time I'd got myself back together I was sitting in Jesse's lap and twiddling with his shirt buttons absently.

"So I guess I owe you a new console and game then, huh?" I commented, smiling despite the weight of it.

Jesse shrugged and squeezed my waist in comfort or reassurance. "It's not going any-where. I can wait," He leaned forward to speak in my ear, his breath tickling my skin. "Besides, I think I need to make up for some lost time with you before I'm faced with that game again. I don't wish to see a repeat performance of your . . . 'hissy fit', querida." He chuckled, raising his scarred eyebrow as he nicknamed my hysterical moment; lapse in judgement; my moment of temporary insanity.

"I'm not going any-where either, handsome," I replied truthfully. "But it's good to know what you're going to be putting first again . . ."

Of course there's always a happy ending. But you can't forget the moral of the story!

. . . Don't listen to any of those self-help breathing techniques to help you deal with your boyfriend's dangerous, unhealthy, lethal addiction to the disturbingly popular Call of Duty. Do what your instincts are telling you and smash the addiction to pieces until you feel better. He might sulk and mope for a while, but . . . you so know it's worth it!