A/N: I just read an excerpt from "Twilight", which is the USA name for Mediator 6, on Meg's site. It's under her diary at megcabot.com! Oh gosh, how can something so short be so inspiring? I guess because it's Meg! Oh gosh, if you haven't read it, then read it! Oh and it features our favorite person...

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"Paul! I'm so glad I caught you!" Kelly exclaimed as she stopped by my locker during passing period, "Daddy just called my celly and told me he can get us the candy bars! Isn't that great? So, after school do you wanna, like, come over so we can sort out what we want them to say?" It took a moment to register what she had meant by candy bars. Then it hit me. Duh, I was running for class VP. But wouldn't you be a little distracted if the girl of your dreams finally agreed to come over to your house, even though she hated you? "Oh," I apologized, "Sorry, Kell, but I'm busy after school." Of course, I wasn't really sorry. Because after school, I'd be busy with Suze Simon. Of course, Kelly didn't need to know I was blowing her off to teach and possibly make-out with my political rival. "Oh," Kelly said with obvious disappointment, "Tomorrow then? Because we really need..." "Yeah tomorrow's great," I butted in. "Okay, see you later Paul," Kelly said as she turned and glided down the hallway. One more period to go, Paul, I told myself. That would be one hour! ONE HOUR!

That hour seemed more like four to me. Of course, it was Religion class. The Mission Academy was a Catholic school, so one of the courses required for graduation was Religion. I didn't mind learning more about the Catholic faith, but it had to be one of the most BORING classes ever. I mean, when we weren't reading straight from the Catechism, we were reading from a textbook completely based on it. I guess the subject matter would be more appealing if a different teacher taught it, because Sr. Ruth spoke in this rather dull monotone. But the next year, I had the option of taking Great Theological Controversies, a class based on reading and writing about great unsolved mysteries and appalling controversies of the Church. That'd be way more interesting in my opinion.

"Oh, look at the time. Class dismissed. Read pages 22-25." Sr. Ruth droned, and everyone up and left the class as fast as possible. I made my way down the crowded hallway when I saw Suze engaged in a conversation with CeeCee and Adam. I strode over to where she was walking, or actually hobbling, and said, "Let me just pull the car around to the side door. That way you won't have to walk to the gate." Without waiting for a reply, I made my way to my car. I quickly jumped in and drove it to the side door. When I got back, Suze was still hobbling and obviously explaining her situation to CeeCee, who didn't seem to want any excuses. I sounded my horn, causing her to notice me, and she practically ran into my car.

She sighed as she sat down, making it quite evident that her feet were killing her. Why do girls wear shoes like that? Do they want to be able to walk when they are sixty? Those shoes must have cost her a huge sum of money so she was probably torturing herself to get the value of them. "Did I mention that those shoes are flickin'?" I complimented her. Of course, she didn't say 'thank-you' or anything nice like that. "Just drive," she commanded me. The rest of the drive there was silent. But then again, there'd be plenty of time to talk in my room. And time to do other things too...

When we drove up to my house, her jaw dropped. "It's my grandfather's place," I told her, "He wanted a little place on the beach to retire to." "Right. And he doesn't mind having a room mate all of a sudden?" she asked. "Are you kidding. He barely knows I'm here. The guy's gorked out on his meds most of the time," I said as we pulled into the garage. "Paul," she said in a 'that's not nice' tone. "What?" I said as I took off my sunglasses, "I'm just stating a fact. Pops is pretty much bedridden and should be in an assisted living facility, but he put up this huge fuss when we tried to move him to one. So when I suggested I move in to kind of keep an eye on things, my dad agreed. It's a win-win situation. Pops gets to live at home- with health care attendants to look after him, of course- and I get to attend my dream school, the Mission Academy." "Oh, so going to Catholic school is your dream?" she asked with light sarcasm. "It is if you're there," I replied, glancing at her meaningfully. I noticed her face was glowing red. "I don't think this is such a good idea, after all," she said quickly. She was worried about being alone with me, I read in her thoughts.

"Relax, Simon, Pop's day attendant is here, in case you're, you know, suffering form any feminine misgivings about being in a house alone with me," I said, pointing to Mark's Toyota Celica. I got out of the car and went around to open the door for her. "Coming, Suze?" I asked. But she didn't even budge. "Uh," she faltered, looking around nervously. She was still thinking about preserving her innocence. "Would you get off it, Suze?" I begged, rolling my eyes, "Your virtue's in no danger from me. I swear I'll keep my hands to myself. This is business. There'll be plenty of time for fun later."

Oh gosh, I thought to myself. What if she wouldn't get out of the car? What if she's changed her mind? Maybe I really should have paid attention in Religion class this afternoon. What if this was my punishment for not listening to Sr. Ruth's lecture about the mystagogy of baptism? No, I told myself, she'd be losing too much if she didn't get out of that car. She'd not only lose the opportunity to learn about what she really is, but she'd also lose a chance to be with the guy that's best for her in every way. Because he's not dead like Jesse DeSilva.

She did it. Despite all of my negative thoughts about whether or not she would, she got out of the car. "Wise decision," I told her as I closed the car door. We walked out of the garage and up the steps to my front door. Well, Suze really didn't walk she tiptoed carrying her shoes in one hand and her backpack in the other. I opened the door quietly and we took a step inside. I grabbed her hand and led her up my steel spiral staircase and into the up-stairs kitchen. "Cocktail?" I joked as I opened the liquor cabinet. "Very funny. Just water, please. Where's you grandfather?" she asked suspiciously. Am I really that creepy? Uh, you don't have to answer that. "Down the hall," I said, moving over to the fridge to grab two water bottles. Let's just say she didn't believe me, according to her thoughts. Plus she was looking over her shoulder uneasily. "Go take a look for yourself if you don't believe me," I told her. She wandered down the hallway and I followed close behind with the water. She found my grandfather's room. Pops was staring at the TV again, while Mark read a magazine silently.

"Hey," Mark said with a smile. "Hey," she replied as she hesitantly took a step in the room. She walked over to my grandfather and said nervously, "Um, hi Mr. Slater. I'm Susannah Simon." My grandfather ignored her, and continued to stare at the TV screen. He began to drool a little, just for show purposes, while Mark reached over to wipe his spit from his chin. "There you go, Mr. Slater. The nice young lady said hello. Aren't you going to say hello back?" Mark asked like he was talking to a two-year-old. Gramps should get an Oscar or something. "How's it going, Pops? Had another riveting day in front of the old boob tube?" I asked sarcastically. Of course, he didn't respond. Mark did, however, "We had a good day, didn't we, Mr. Slater? Took a nice walk in the backyard around the pool and picked a few lemons." "That's great," I said with forced happiness for my grandfather. I mean, he could make a lemon with the amount of power he had. I noticed Suze was feeling a little uncomfortable so I took her hand and started to lead her out of the room. "Bye, Mr. Slater," she said as I dragged her into the hallway.

"What's wrong with him? Alzheimer's?" she asked quietly. "Naw. They don't know, exactly. He's lucid enough, when he wants to be," I said handing her one of the cool water bottles. "Really?" she asked unbelievably, "Maybe he's just...you know. Old." Heh. That's hilarious. "Yeah, that's probably it all right," I said with a laugh. We had finally made it to my bedroom. I threw open the door and presented it to her. "This is it. What I wanted to show you."

She walked in behind me and looked around the room with her jaw dropped. I do admit that my room had possibly the best view in the house, besides my grandfather's. She gawked at the amazing view of the blue, cloudless sky and the roaring sea-green ocean. I took a seat on my bed and said, "It's here," while patting my bed, expecting her to sit. She just glared at me and said sarcastically, "Yeah, sure it is."

"I'm serious," I said as I pulled out the box from under my bed. I placed the box beside me and pulled out a few articles. My grandfather gave these to me a long time ago when he first told me the truth about who I was. And now, I would show them to Suze. "Check these out," I said as I spread out the papers on my bed. The articles were clipped from The London Times, dated June 18, 1952. The picture showed my grandfather at about 25, holding a lantern to some hieroglyphics. Suze moved closer to get a look at the picture.

"Dr. Oliver Slaski- that's this guy here in the photo- worked for years to translate the text on the wall of King Tut's tomb. He came to the conclusion that in ancient Egypt there was actually a small group of shamans who had the ability to travel in an out of the realm of the dead without, in fact, dying themselves. These shamans were called, as near as Dr. Slaski could translate, shifters. They could shift from this spirit plane to the next, and were hired as spirit guides for the deceased by the deceased's family, in order to ensure their loved one's ending up where he was supposed to instead of aimlessly wandering the planet," I explained. She stiffly sunk onto my bed, moving even closer to get a look at the article. "Shifters," she muttered breathlessly, "What he meant was mediators." "I don't think so," I told her. "No," she insisted with her quivering voice. She backed up from the article. I turned myself to face her, and leaned closer a little. "That's exactly what it means, Paul," she wavered, "The ninth card in the tarot deck- the one called the Hermit- features an old man holding a lantern, just like this guy is doing. It always comes up when my cards are read. And the Hermit is a spirit guide, someone who is supposed to lead the dead to their final destination. And okay, the guy in the hieroglyphic isn't old, but they are both doing the same thing...He has to mean mediators, Paul. He has to!" "But that's not all they were, Suze," I argued while picking out more articles, "According to Slaski, who wrote this thesis about it, back in ancient Egypt there were your run-of-the-mill mediums, or, if you prefer, mediators. But then there were also shifters." She was staring at the papers between us incredulously. "And that," I said, staring at her purposefully, "is what you and I are, Suze. Shifters."

"No," she shook her head, "Not me. I'm just a mediator. I mean, if I were a shifter, I wouldn't have had to exorcise myself that time..." Again with the circle talking. "You didn't have to. You could have gotten yourself there and back on your own, just by visualizing the place. You could do it now, if you wanted to," I coaxed her in a silky, calm I-know-what-I'm-doing voice. She looked up from the papers for the first time, and our eyes met. "No way," she said as she looked down at the articles again, trying to hide in them. "Try it. Picture it in your head. You know what the place looks like now," I tempted her. Immediately she went, "No, no thanks." She looked at me like I was insane or something. But really, she was the insane one, for being scared. "Don't tell me Suze Simon is actually afraid of something," I said, actually quite seriously, "You always act as if you were immune to fear the way some people are immune to the chicken pox." Well, she was immune to fear when I wasn't around, because if there was one definite thing I knew about Suze Simon, it was that she was terribly afraid of me.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't feel like- what's it called again? Oh, yeah, shifting- right now. Maybe later," she said indignantly. "Right now," she said, looking yet again at the yellowed articles, "I want to ask you about that other thing you mentioned. The thing where somebody can take over somebody else's body. Soul Transference." I smiled. Bingo, Suze! "I thought that one might get your attention," I said more to myself. And why would she be so interested in that? Uh, because she's in love with a guy who's 150 year old rotting corpse was found in her backyard during the summer. And this, in her mind, might be the one thing that could allow him to be alive.

"It sounds interesting, is all. Is it really possible? Does Dr. Slaski mention it at all?" she asked as she shuffled the articles around. "Maybe," I replied as I placed my hand on the articles so she couldn't lift them. Seriously, I don't know if she's clueless or if she just pretended to be. "Paul, I'm just curious. I mean, have you ever done it? Does it actually work? Could Craig really take over his brother's body?" she asked, trying to pry an article from under my hand. Gosh. "It's not because of Craig that you're asking, though, is it?" I said, staring straight into her eyes. I didn't care if she was afraid of me anymore. She pretended like she had no idea what I was talking about. But, I knew, deep down she knew. "Suze, when are you going to get it?"

I guess she realized our proximity, as I had just then. We were barely six inches apart. But of course, since I'm not some dead guy that lives in her room, she started to pull away. But I wasn't going to take any of that. I grabbed her wrist in a not very gentle manner, causing her to look me straight in the eye.

"Jesse's dead, but that doesn't mean you have to act like you are, too," I said, my voice soft as a whisper. She objected, "I don't. I..."

I didn't want to hear it. Because I knew whatever she was about to say was going to be complete bull. She was only deceiving herself, in the long run. So I sought to enlighten her...in a sort of interesting way. You see my whole little grabbing her wrist thing brought me another three inches closer to her. So I, with extreme ease, was able to meet her lips with my own.

In other words, I leaned in and kissed her.

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A/N: All right, guys, the next chapter is the notorious kissing scene. So give me the scoop: keep my usual rating or up it to PG-13? Help me out, please. Oh and I changed the titles to chapters 5 and 6...thanks to those who gave me suggestions! I luv ya'll!