Hi, I'm HB. You can call me that or Gewher. I'm not exactly new to the world of fanfiction, but I'm new to the Mediator. In fact, I just finished book 6 two days ago, but I love it so much that I just have to write a fic about it. So I'm doing it. I'm excited and proud of it so far. So give me a little input palios, and I'll make it worth your time.

Oh. Right. I don't own Jesse. I wish I did. But I don't. Oh, and I don't own Suze, or Father D. or any of the other characters pertaining to The Mediator Series. These all belong to Meg Cabot. Along with pretty much everything but my own little plot. And the word Tintinnabulation. Which happens to be the best word in the freaking dictionary. (Actually, I don't own that either. But this is irrelevant.)

It was a beautiful lazy Monday afternoon. The sun was shining. The palm trees swaying. The birds twittering about the statue of Junipero Serra. But the young man striding purposefully towards the big oak doors of the Mission Church had a lot more on his mind then the sun-drunk scenery of Carmel-by-the-Sea. The doors closed with a dull boom behind him, thudding loudly. Like his heart. He was enveloped in darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Sharp clicking footsteps echoed through the acoustical high ceiling of the cathedral. It was funny how much he revelled in the small things. Like footsteps. He hadn't had those in 150 years, funny what you don't realize your missing when you go so long without it.

Like love. 150 years alone. 150 years of not realizing how empty life is until she comes along. It's like suddenly you realize you've been in pain all this time and she's taken it away, making you feel more whole than you've ever been; even when you'd been alive. Okay so the situation didn't apply to many people, seeing as it's not often a ghost and a human have a love affair, but that was what it was like being with Susannah Simon. And then she'd saved him, given him more than he could ever give her back. She made him able to revel in his loud footsteps.

Along with his echoing footfalls, he also enjoyed other feelings of the senses that being alive had to offer. Like the way the church felt so cool, dark and humid as compared to the bright outdoor sunshine which had warmed his back seconds ago and had highlighted the honey-brown tones in his almost black hair. Like the way he could smell the mustiness of the Junipero Serra's Mission Cathedral, feel the porous red rock walls locking out the heat and light. Like the way he could really see the shifting planes of sunlight dancing on the motes of dust, colouring them in hues of blue, yellow, red. As a ghost, nothing is solid, he could see but not see. Nothing was real to him then, insubstantial and incorporeal. When you can phase through things, they kind of lose their touch. Except Susannah. He reminded himself, a small crooked smile playing on his lips. But even she was more real to him now than ever before, back when he was a ghost. And that's why he was here.

He slowly sank to one knee, genuflecting reverently towards the glowing red light reflected in the golden tabernacle. Just like a good Spanish-Catholic gentleman from the mid-nineteenth century should. He gritted his teeth and steeled himself for what he needed to do. Rising, he took the few steps towards the back right of the alter, shooting one pleading glance at the face of Christ hanging resolutely on His cross at the front of the church.

He's a man, you're a man, you'll both understand, si? Jesse de Silva asked the Lord silently. He raised a tanned hand, balled into a fist, and knocked on the door tothe vestibule. The sound reverberated through the cathedral seeming to condemn him. Sinner, sinner, sinner. Bad, bad, bad... It said to him. Nombre de dios, guilty conscience much? He thought, shaking his head.

Jesse grimaced as he heard Father Dom's tentative "Who is it?" and cleared his throat.

"Father? It's me, Jesse, I, uh, need to talk to you." He leaned against the door frame, muscles tense, rubbing his hands together nervously.

"Heaven's sake Jesse, come in! What's wrong? Is Suze--" Father D said sensing the distress in the former rancher's voice.

"No," Jesse cut him off, "Susannah is fine, it's sort of about her though." He finished, opening the door with a sonorous creak and boom. Father Dom ushered him in with a swish of his cassock, to a couple chairs kept there for confession. Jesse sat down, thinking it fitting, seeing as he had a few things to confess.

"I was just cleaning the vessels. Helps to clear the mind sometimes." Father pointed to the golden chalice, paten and ciborium used for the communion offering. Jesse nodded.

"Yes, Sister Ernestine told me this is where you would be." He said, staring at the tarnished gold thoughtfully.

"So what is it Jesse? Has something happened?" Father D asked nervously, hoping this wasn't going to get really uncomfortable.

"Well, uh," Jesse started awkwardly, his dark chocolate eyes not meeting his confessor's blue ones. "The other night..." Father D braced himself, screwing his eyes shut and sending out a short prayer that this wasn't turning towards what he thought it was.

Jesse's Vantage Point

Saturday. Date night. Which no longer meant sitting and watching movies in Susannah's bedroom. No, now it meant I could take her out to dinner, go to a theme park, the arcade, the Coffee Clutch, or a movie... Okay, so what's so different about going out to a movie than staying in her bedroom and watching one? Well, her parents and stepbrothers weren't downstairs for one. It's also more official, like we're actually out together, and people can see us holding hands. Not just Susannah, sitting by herself in her bedroom and talking to herself. It's real to everyone, not just us. So tonight, it was dinner and a movie. A classic I don't think I'll ever tire of.

Dinner had consisted of smoked Muscovy duck for me, and Arctic char for her. I couldn't help splurge on her sometimes. Though it peeved her to no end that I wouldn't let her see the menus when we went out. Especially when sometimes, at the really fancy restaurants, they had 'Ladies Menus', basically listing everything but omitting the prices. Very much my style. Not so much hers.

"I can handle my own menu thanks-very-much, and I'd like to know the prices before you go all out, Jesse." She warned me again. But this was one thing I wouldn't back down on.

"Just, sit and look pretty--" I would start, teasing her.

"Like a young lady should." She'd finish sarcastically.

"I believe that even in this time, Susannah, the man will buy for the woman when out on a date." I'd say tiredly, and she'd glare at me, knowing I was right. Then she'd pull the "I'll just have a small salad please" trick and I'd have to order for her. Then she'd roll her eyes because I'd know exactly what she really wanted. We'd talk, laughing and smiling and arguing and debating. She'd tell me more about living in the 21st century, and I'd tell her more about the 19th. Only on this date she pulled something new.

"What are you doing Susannah?" I asked, tensing up as she did it again. She grinned wickedly.

"It's called footsies." She said, leaning over the table and whispering conspiratorially, "It's a, sort of a game, that 21st century couples play, under tables. With our feet." I gave her a quizzical look but decided to play along. I figured it was pretty harmless actually, but still special, like holding hands. We continued eating and

chatting, every once and a while playing the strange game of footsies. Giving each other secret smiles every time our legs touched. I wonder if she knows how alluring her smile is; how it makes my blood pump faster and heat flood my stomach. Then suddenly all thought stopped. She had taken her shoe off and slid her bare foot further up my leg, touching my inner thigh, just above my knee. My skin burned where she touched me, right through the pair of dark jeans I was wearing.

"Querida." I warned, and she just smiled innocently and batted her eyelashes at me. "Please."

Suze's Vantage Point

He could always kill me with one little word. I try to be mischievous, I really do. But as soon as he says that word with his smooth velvety voice and looks at me with those deep almost-black eyes, an expression of consternation evident on those pouty sexy lips. I'm done for. I just have to fold, because there's no way I can hold my own against that. So I just gave him the Bambi eyes and slipped my foot back into my red Madden Girl pumps. No more footsies for me. Bad, bad Suze. I huffed. He raised the eyebrow with the dog-bite scar in it. I wanted to reach over and touch the little white line and tell him I'm sorry and I won't do it again. But I probably will. And he can always tell when I'm lying. So I tried a staring contest instead. Okay, so only slightly childish, but it works to change the subject, right?

"Ha, you blinked." I said sheepishly. Jesse rolled his eyes and I knew he wasn't mad at me for my foot incident, only frustrated with himself. Which made me feel guilty. Ugh.

"Oh, Querida." He sighed adoringly, making me feel so special and cherished and loved. Because that was my word, and the way he said it was only for me.

"So you guys want your room, I mean, bill." The waitress suddenly said, right at our side. I hadn't noticed her walk up. Jesse's eyebrows flew up and knit together. So I guessed he hadn't missed the um-bitch-much? in her tone. I didn't think he knew what 'Get a Room' meant though.

"Yes miss, I would be very grateful if you could bring us the bill, but before you go I would like to ask you something." Jesse said tightly. The waitress sniffed, but I could see glint in her eye as she looked from him to me, then back to him, up and down. Red-hot jealousy boiled up inside me. Don't even think it you stupid floozy, this is my man. I clenched my teeth.

"What." Waitress-from-hell asked Jesse, feigning boredom.

"Do you always assume that a couple out for a romantic dinner have as lax a sense of morality as you yourself do? And do you usually rudely imply assumptions that are none of your business on unsuspecting and paying customers?" Jesse asked, an edge of steel in his voice. Whoa, boy! I guess he is hip with the mod lingo. My eyes were wide I kicked him under the table.

"Jesse." I hissed and he gave me a look that said 'sit and look pretty.' I bit my tongue to keep my comeback in. I snuck a glance at the rude server, I could see she was even more taken aback at Jesse's calm accusation than I was. But that might have been because she didn't know he was raised in the 1800s, back when any sexual activity outside of wedlock was strictly forbidden and extremely taboo.

"Whatever." She managed to glare out from beneath her fringe of bleach blonde bangs.

"You can also tell your manager my lady friend and I are quite affronted by your lack of manners." Jesse added, and only now could I detect a twinge of humour in his tone. She gave a snort and walked away.

"Jesse! You did not just tell her off without her even knowing it!" I said with admiration. "Not one curse either." I whistled. "You have many talents my friend. This is why I love you."

"That's the only reason?" He asked in mock hurt. "My heart is breaking Querida." He clutched at his chiselled, toned, hard chest. Mmm, a chest only separated fromme by a tight black dress shirt, tempting me with three buttons undone. So his style was slightly Jersey, but seeing as it was influenced by the 1800s, that wasn't surprising. Besides, he could pull it off. Actually, he could pull off anything, with a face that gorgeous and a body like that.

"Well, there are a few other reasons." I teased, and he smiled sensually. Actually, he just smiled, but it always looks sensual when he does.

"Like...?" He continued. Ah! He was not getting me that easily.

"I might tell you some day. But for now, I think you better go and get that bill, because--" I glanced at my beautiful, delicate silver watch, the one Jesse had given me, "--the movie starts in 15 and I have a feeling that waitress is not coming back. Or I could go get it if you want?" I threatened emptily, knowing I would not get within six feet of the check. He gave me one of those looks. The ones that say 'Suze, I am not giving into your gender-equality demands', or at least that's how I interpret them. Except for, he never says my nickname, it's always just Susannah. And he's the only one who can get away with it permanently. Kind of like my mom is the only one who can call me Susie. Because when my name passes his lips, it sounds like ten times better than when anyone else says it. He sighed and got up effortlessly. I couldn't help but stare as his corded muscles, built up from years of working on his father's ranch, and kept up by his regular horseback riding (which I refuse to join him on) and odd construction jobs for my stepdad. Yep. He worked part time for Andy Ackerman, my mother's new husband of a year. Which was awkward, but Jesse needed the money for med school. Which let me tell you is not cheep. I know because I've researched it, and I've been raising a secret stash on the side to help him out. I know, I know, what kind of self-respecting woman puts her boyfriend through school? But it's just that, well, I love him, and seeing as my career is already planned for me, I may as well help him achieve his. How very selfless of me, isn't it? Pff, not really, seeing as my only dream is to be with Jesse. And I don't need some fancy collage degree to know how to love him. Besides, I'm a bit of a philanthropist. Albeit a secretive, and slightly monetarily deprived one. And I don't help people, per se. But whatever.

Jesse held his hand out to help me from the booth. I'd usually contest this, saying I didn't need help, but these heels were new, and high. So I did need help. He also opened the door for me, after we'd paid—well, he'd paid—and said, of all things, "Ladies first." I snorted loudly at that.

"That reminds me, since when am I your, quote-unquote, lady friend?" I asked, rushing to the driver door of the Rover before he could protest. He sighed heavily again.

"You're much to sophisticated for the word 'girl', Susannah." I narrowed my eyes, mulling that over, wondering what he was implying there. But all I said was:

"Hmph."

Oookay. So tell me how you liked it so far. Not sure how long this is going to go on but we're good for a couple more chapters at least. Oh tell me how you like the format as well, too many points of view? Too much switching from past to present tense? Double spacing? Tabbing? I'll fix it if I can!