Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own the Mediator Series, and I certainly do not own the characters or what they say. I am writing about what I believe Jesse thinks in these scenes. That's all :) thanks!
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One hundred and fifty years. That's approximately how long I have been haunting this room. One hundred and fifty years of waiting on the second floor of a house in Carmel, California. One hundred and fifty years of waiting while the times changed and the house I died in converted from an old boarding house to an everyday living space for families. One hundred and fifty years of waiting in a room that had recently been re-done in cream wallpaper, with little flowers dotted here and there, and added a lace canopy bed with a conjoined bathroom attatched to the room. One hundred and fifty years of waiting. Waiting for what, you ask? I, Hector

"Jesse" De Silva, do not have the faintest idea.
I heard the crunch of gravel as the new family that had moved into the house arrived with yet another person. I assumed it was the young lady that was moving into the room done up with lace. My room. I almost felt sorry for the poor thing. That is, until I saw her.

Now, I'm never quick to judge, but I come from a time period where all girls wore dresses and corsets. Of course, I had watched the times change and the style of dress went along with that. Which is why I tried not to judge the girl based on appearance.

She had entered the room with the older woman, who I assumed was her mother, talking incessantly to her as the girl looked around the room. I could see the distaste in her face at the canopy bed, but she smiled at what her mother was saying anyway. The girl was wearing old ripped jeans with a white t-shirt and a black motorcycle jacket. She had long, wavy brown hair and big, bright emerald eyes. She was tall, but that might have been because she was wearing ankle boots, though i would still have towered over her frame had I stood next to her.

"Oh, Suze." I heard her mother say in a disapproving tone, and tuned in to what they were saying. "Not again," Her mother sighed and watched the girls face. I looked, too, and saw that she was looking toward the window where I sat with a mix of surprise, horror and anger on her face. I assumed, again, that she didn't like the frilly window seat. She looked right through me, of course. No one could actually see me. I was dead.

"Never mind, Mom. Everything's fine. The room is great. Thanks so much," The girl lied, to make her mother feel better. I'm not quite sure she was fooled.

"Well," Her mother said. "I'm glad you like it. I was sort of worried. I mean, I know how you get about...well, old places." She didn't like old places? I wondered why. Maybe she was afraid of ghosts. I smirked at that and felt sorry for her again, having to share a room with me.

"Really, Mom," The girl was saying. "It's great. I love it." At that, the man, I believe his name was Andy, charged about the room, showing her some interesting technical gadgets that he had put in, like the clap on, clap off lights. (I had found them intriguing).

After he had finished showing her all that he installed, everyone left the room except for the girl and her mother. And me, of course, but no one knew that.

"Is it really all right, Suze? I know it's a big change. I know it's asking a lot of you - " Her mother was interrupted by the girl.

"It's fine Mom, really." She took off her jacket as her mother continued.

"I mean, asking you to leave Grandma, and Gina, and New York. It's selfish of me, I know." Her mother sounded sincere and almost guilty. I decided there that I liked her; she was a good person. "I know things haven't been...well, easy for you. Especially since Daddy died."

Ah, so the man downstairs was not her father. I was chagrined as I realized that I shouldn't be listening to their private conversation. But really, who was I going to tell? I almost left...almost.

Her mother kept up a good speech about making friends and such, which the girl pretended to listen to, and finally said, "Well, I guess if you don't want help unpacking, I'll go see how Andy is doing with dinner."

"Yeah, Mom," Said the girl. "You go do that. I'll just get settled in here, and I'll be down in a minute."

Her mother stood with tears in her eyes and said, "I just want you to be happy, Susie. That's all I've ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?"

"The girl hugged her mother, saying, "Sure, Mom. Sure, I'll be happy here. I feel at home already." She seemed caring when she said that, I perceived, but I think she was just placating her mother. After making her swear she felt at home, her mother left and the girl stood in silence for a moment.

"All right," She said, talking to herself. "Who the hell are you?"

I looked around, over my shoulder, even though I knew there was nothing but the window behind me. But...she couldn't be talking to me. Jesucrìsto, I was dead! I looked at her hard and saw that her gaze was fastened on me. I could feel the shock and surprise on my face. "Nombre de Dìos," I whispered.

"It's no use calling on your higher power," She said, pulling over a chair to where I sat on the window seat. "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for - " She looked me up and down, trying to decide what time period my outfit was from. "What is it? A hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?"

The way she spoke! It was so...twenty-first century. I couldnt understand half of what she was saying.

"What is...croaked?" I stared at her, waiting for my answer. My voice was hoarse from the fact that I hadn't spoken to anyone in over a hundred years.

The girl rolled her eyes at me and said, "Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust." I was still confused, so she clarified exasperatedly. "Died."

"Oh. Died." Well, she could have just said that in the first place. I shook my head, still overwhelmed that she was talking to me. "I dont understand. I dont understand how it is that you can see me. All these years, no one has ever - "

"Yeah," She spoke over me, cutting off the rest of my sentence. "Well, listen, the times, you know, they are a-changin'. So what's your glitch?"

She sat there, staring at me, and her hard, green-eyed gaze had me feeling a bit...skittish. That was something I hadn't felt in a long time, even when I had been alive.

I put my foot up on the window seat and looked at her. "Glitch?" I questioned.

"Yeah," The girl said again, clearing her throat. "Glitch. Problem. Why are you still here?" I just kept staring at her. "Why haven't you gone to the other side?"

I suppose she is talking about me being a ghost, I thought, shaking my head. If i knew, would I be here? But instead, I said, as politely as I could, "I don't know what you mean."

Her expression changed, turned scowling, and she swiped some hair away from her face frustratedly. "What do you mean you don't know what I mean? You're dead." She snapped at me, as if I didn't already know. "You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off, doing whatever it is that happens to people after they're dead. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated, or ascending another plane of consciousness, or whatever. You're not supposed to be just...well, just hanging around."

Yes, well, I had been here for the last one hundred and fifty years. I was certainly getting good at this hanging around by now.

"And what if I happen to like just hanging around?" I asked her.

"Look," She stood up from the chair she had been occupying and glared at at me. "You can do all the hanging around you want, amigo. Slack away. I dont really care. But you can't do it here."

"Jesse," I said. I dont know why, but I felt like giving her the informal name my mother used to call me. It seemed to fit.

"What?"

"You called me amigo. I thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse." She nodded, still frowning.

"Right. That figures. Well, fine. Jesse, then. You can't stay here, Jesse."

I simply smiled at her, asking, "And you?"

"And me what?" Her chin jutted out, as if to suggest she was being stubborn and did not care.

"What is your name?"

"Look," She glowered. "Just tell me what you want and get out. I'm hot and I want to change clothes. I don't have time for - "

I remembered what she was called before she noticed me here, and interrupted her rant. "That woman - your mother - called you Susie. Short for Susan?"

"Susannah," She said without thought. "As in, 'don't you cry for me'."

Susannah. I smiled. That was a nice name. "I know the song."

"Yeah. It was probably in the top forty the year you were born, huh?" Sarcastic, too. I ignored her and kept my smile in place.

"So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?"

"Yeah," She said. "This is my room now. So you're going to have to clear out."

I raised an eyebrow. Where would I go? "I'm going to have to clear out? This has been my room for a century and a half. Why should I have to leave it?"

"Because," She said, annoyed. "This is my room and I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."

I stood up quickly, slamming my foot to the floor in anger. A cowboy? Did she even know what the term meant?

"I am not a cowboy," I said willing myself to stay calm. Those sly, thieving, kniving, low life cowboys! Never, never ever...the thought trailed off as I stormed at Susannah. The mirror had started to shake due to the effort of my mind. I cursed in Spanish under my beath as she said, holding out her hands,

"Woah. Down. Down, boy."

"My family," I said, putting my finger in her face. "Worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, never as a vaquero - "

"Hey," She said. Susannah reached out and pulled my finger away from her face. Instead of passing right through me, like it should have, her hand was able to grasp my finger and swat it away.

"Stop with the mirror, already. And stop shoving your finger in my face. Do it again, and I'll break it."

She had let go of my hand, but I felt cold all over - except for the finger she had touched. It was tingling as I looked down at it in disbelief.

"Now, look, Jesse," She said, trying to sound firm while taking advantage of my speechless state. "This is my room, understand? You can't stay here. You've either got to let me help you get to where you're supposed to go, or you're going to have to find some other house to haunt. I'm sorry, but thats the way it is."

I looked back to her face and said quietly, "Who are you? What kind of..." I hesitated, not sure how to phrase my question. "...girl are you?" She looked angry at that.

"I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not," Said Susannah. "I am not the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite sex. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you some time to think about it. But when I get back here, Jesse, I want you gone." Susannah turned and walked out of the room, leaving me in shock.

Ah, I see...member of the opposite sex...Well, of course I would give her privacy. I may be dead, but I have manners. Hopefully she'd calm down a bit. I dematerialized from Susannah's new room, thinking that I wasn't ready to leave for good quite yet.