Timeout

By: ChocolateEclar

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has to do with the Mediator Series by Meg Cabot/Jenny Carroll, including Jesse (*cough*what if I ask really nicely?*cough*), Suze, Paul, Father D, CeeCee, Adam, etc. 

Claimer: I own Miss Evelyn "Eve" Gemma and the plot. (I still wish I owned Jesse instead of Eve.)

To allhailstitch: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like my integration of the 6th book into this. (P.S. Go Stitch! ^_-)

To Corcra: *laughs* You're right. I am one of those Jesse lovers. I pretty much loathe Paul. I mean, I love bad boys too – which is obvious from my other adorations of Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Artemis Fowl, Rob Wilkins, etc – but he's just too bad to be good, you know? I just can't see him changing. Besides, he gets in the way between Jesse and Suze. ^__^ At any rate, more heaps of gratitude to you for reviewing! ^_-

To Clavel: You'll just have to wait and see what happens next… Thank you for the review!

Chapter 4: Gone

It took me a long time before the haze that seemed to be wrapped around my head was lifted, and I could open my eyes. Once I had, it took me awhile to realize exactly where I was, but when I did, I had to stifle a scream. In an instant, I was a foot away from my original position, sprawled on my behind, panting.

I had been lying on my stomach with Paul Slater kneeled directly before me. "'Morning, Suze," he greeted me.

"Paul?" I muttered. My vision may have been clear, but my head was still foggy. "W-What's going-oh no."

I was searching his face for answers when I glanced down at the growing daylight crawling over the stone, dirt, and grass beneath us and saw the remains of a circle with an eye drawn in it. That was when it had hit me.

Jesse!

"You didn't-you-Jesse-no," I moaned.

Smirking, Paul stood up and did a little bow. "How do I look, Suze?" he queried.

How could I have not noticed? I really was out of it. Paul was dressed in this puffy-sleeved white shirt, tight black pants, boots with spurs, and a mud brown cowboy hat.

"My God," I gasped. "You went back in time-no-no-you got rid of Jesse!" I was standing now, my eyes wide and disbelieving. It just couldn't be true…

But it was.

And this time I felt worse than I had when Jesse had disappeared and Maria and Diego had been after me. Make that ten times worse to be exact because I knew this time I had a horrible choice to make.

I could either try to reverse what Paul had done – stopping Paul from keeping Jesse from dying, I mean. As a result, everything would be back to normal, but Jesse would have no chance to live a normal living life beyond the age of twenty – since that was about how old he was when he died.

Or I could leave things as they are now. This would mean Jesse now could survive – probably without Maria – and the De Silva line would live on… But I would never have a chance with him then…

But wouldn't it be selfish to stop Paul from saving Jesse just so Jesse could be with me? That would be just as egotistic as what Paul had done.

I was torn and, as hard as I was trying to stop them, my eyes were tearing up right in front of Paul. It hurt to breath and I kept repeating thing over and other in my head:

Jesse's gone. Jesse's gone! JESSE'S GONE!!!

Then, before I could think, I was running blindly uphill and to where the bike was hidden. I hopped on it, my vision blurring with tears. I was bawling terribly by then, and I hated it.

"SUZE!" called Paul, but I ignored him. He had done a lot of wrong things, but this just topped the cake.

I sped away on the bike, tears gushing down my face.

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I don't remember much of that bike ride. I was just too numb with shock. When I got home, I set the bicycle back in the garage and crept inside. Early morning light was streaming through the house. I reached my room – tears still flowing and the numbness being replaced with an agonizing ache.

'Jesse's gone!' my brain repeated.

I collapsed onto my bed, stripping my black sweatshirt off and reaching under my pillow for the little stolen miniature of Jesse. It was of his head and shoulders, and he had this bored expression on his face. I held it away from range of any tears – I wanted to preserve it forever. But as I was tracing the right side of Jesse's mini face, the painting began to fade in my hands.

I'm serious. It was fading like ghosts do when they dematerialize.

And then, it was gone. Just like Jesse.

A fresh bought of tears started then. Since the past – mainly Jesse's – was changing, so, naturally, was the present. With no Jesse meant I would never have met Maria, Felix Diego, or the expert on Maria De Silva – who the lady in the hoop skirt offed ironically – Clive Clemmings. Meaning I never would've gotten the miniature in the first place.

Someone just put me out of my misery now.

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I couldn't sleep at all, and by the time the rest of the house started to stir, I was so dog-tired and miserable I couldn't stand the thought of leaving my bed. So, I faked being sick, which isn't so hard when your eyes and noses are so red and runny from crying and you have a killer head.

This time no one could stay behind and keep me company – like Andy had when I had so many blisters on my feet I couldn't stand. I finally fell asleep from exhaustion, and I didn't leave my bed until noon because my stomach felt hallow and I needed the bathroom. I crept downstairs – clothed in a white tank top, navy sweatpants, and a baby blue robe – and scavenged through the fridge.

I pulled out a gallon of milk and set it on the countertop. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet above, I then opened a box of Coco Puffs and poured some of the chocolate pieces into the bowl. A little milk and I was done and seated at the table with a spoon in hand. I probably looked like some depressed, unemployed woman who'd just been dumped. My hair was limp and knotted around my face from lack of wash or brush thus far that day. Seriously, looking back, I was pretty pathetic.

See what you do to me, Jesse?

After I was done, I placed the empty bowl in the sink and crawled back upstairs. I needed to see something. I took a shower, brushed my hair and teeth, and put on a pink tee and old blue Levis. I went downstairs and slipped on my Cosmopolitan boots.

I was out the door, into the garage, and back out with a bike in a few moments before gliding down the hill towards the Mission. I definitely couldn't be seen by anyone who'd recognize me or everyone would know I hadn't really been sick. Once at the Mission, I snuck into the graveyard and down the worn trail to Jesse's grave.

Or where Jesse's grave had been just yesterday, before Paul ruined everything.

I should've known it wouldn't be there, but a part of me must've been clinging onto a little bit of hope because when I saw the space where Jesse's grave should've been, with someone else's grave there instead, my heart broke again.

Darn it. I was crying again!

I wiped my eyes and clenched my fists. I had to stay calm and strong. Calm and strong.

I had to see Father Dom – without anyone else seeing me. That was why, a few minutes later, I was peeking through the window to his office to see if he in there alone. He was – and playing on a Gameboy I might add – so I tapped on the glass.

The priest looked up in search of the sound and gave me an exasperated face. He stood up and came over to the window. Opening it, he hissed, "What are you doing here, Susannah? You're mother called in to say were ill this morning."

"Quick recovery," I lied. "Please, Father D, I need help."

"Mediator help?"

"You could say that," I muttered weakly.

"Very well," Father Dom said, sighing. "I'll meet you over by the chapel in a few minutes."

I nodded and mouthed, "Thank you." Then, I rushed off to the chapel.

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Awhile later, we were sitting in the back of the church – surrounded by white and black priest robes on racks – and I'd relayed pretty much everything that had happened in the last two days – minus the weeping and being too miserable to get out of bed afterwards. Father Dom looked solemn when I asked him what I should do. Sighing, he said cautiously, "The only way…to discover if Jesse would be…better off if he lived on in his time or as a ghost here, is to do some research."

I nodded and said, "It may be a long shot, but I think I know where to start."

This would be why I could be found in the school office on Google later on. I was looking up things like "Jesse Hector De Silva 1850 California," "Maria De Silva Diego" and "Felix Diego." Simultaneously, Father Dominic searched the file cabinet behind me for a record of Jesse's new "death date" for he was bound to have been buried here somewhere.

We soon discovered that:

A) In his new past, Jesse lived to the age of 33 and died on his family's farm of malnutrition – definitely not a great way to go.

B) Jesse's five sisters all died of starvation right before he kicked the bucket himself.

C) And if that didn't sound bad enough, he'd been single and not considered too highly by some of his family members because he'd totally failed to produce a "De Silva heir."

Well, that last one was good and bad. I mean, atleast I knew I'd pretty much been the only one for him… What can I say? I'm shallow when it comes to guys.

Father Dom wasn't convinced though. He told me stuff like, "Atleast Jesse received a new chance at life."

So, as much as I wanted to reverse what Paul had done, I couldn't. It was like something was stopping me. Sometimes I really hate my conscience.

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A/N: All I have to say is:

REVIEW!!! ^__^ Bye!