A/n- THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH for all the wonderful reviews I received for my first ever songfic. Good to know that I'm not the only one who doesn't think Paul is evil. Here is the latest chapter, and you'll soon discover what relation the girl has with Jesse. Please read ALL OF IT and then review.



Chapter 4

"You are... are you... Ohmigod... you can't be..." I was seriously stuttering. And my mouth kept opening and closing like a stupid fish undersea. While I just stood there, dumbfounded, and staring at her like a total idiot, the ghost girl still sat on the windowsill, perfectly stiff and rigid.

"Oh. My. God." I finally gasped. "You are Jesse's daughter."

I was extremely proud of myself that I didn't immediately just burst into tears after I said that. That is what I wanted to do, though. You can't exactly blame me, since you know perfectly well you would have wanted to do the same thing if you found that out about your boyfriend. That during his teenage years, he wasn't the perfect role model either. That when he had the chance, he also took advantage of women just the same. That when he made the biggest mistake of his life, he escaped from the situation because he didn't want to face the consequences. That when he-

Shut up, Suze, I snapped at myself. I was just imagining a whole bunch of bullshit. I didn't live with Jesse for almost a year and not know that he wouldn't just walk away from any kind of responsibility. Even if it may destroy or forever ruin his reputation, I was sure that Jesse would stay with whoever the lucky woman is and guide her through thick and thin.

But if that's the case, how did he end up engaged to Maria???

Oh Lordie. I took a huge intake of breath and willed the tears that are pricking at the back of my eyes to not fall. There has to be a much more reasonable explanation than what I have instinctively come up with. Maybe they had an agreement. Maybe they figured it was for the best for both of them. Maybe they realized that they weren't meant to be stuck with each other even if they have created an unwanted burden between them. Maybe Jesse didn't even know. Maybe it all happened against their will. Maybe-

I interrupted my wild stream of "maybes" with a violent shake of my head. I was jumping to conclusions. Conclusions that may all proven to be false, conclusions that may be completely irrelevant to everything. Or conclusions that may result in my worst nightmare coming true, I added silently.

Whipping my head around one more time, I trained my gaze on the girl on the windowsill, and spoke in a clear but small voice, "I can't believe it..."

The girl, however, just looked at me like she had no idea what the heck I was talking about. No doubt to not make me any more distressed than I already felt. Well, it's not going to work. The pain of Jesse doing something like that –accident or not- is not going to go away. Not ever. He may have understood his actions as he sat here in my room for all those decades after he passed away, but somehow, some way, his past have now caught up with him. And one way or another, this time he has to pay.

Oh please. Those words were what I was telling myself, but the only thing I really feel right now is sorrow. Pure and pure. Thick enough to slice a knife through it. And still the bottom is far away. Grief. Mixed with anger. And hurt.

"Hey, are you okay?" Puck, standing besides me, asked, one eyebrow disappearing into his curly hair. He actually sounded pretty concerned. For a ghost who spends quality time mocking and disrespecting my privacy. And who doesn't have the decency or patience to wait for a mere three hours. And who thinks Shakespeare's characters is funny. And-

Get a grip, Simon, I muttered silently to myself. The whole thing is ridiculously frazzling my nerves, making everything seem more serious than it actually is. Normally I couldn't care less which annoying ghost I'm stuck with until I figure out how to help them move on, and this time is no different. Absurd thoughts just keep popping into my head, making me feel unusually dizzy and abnormal.

Go figure.

"So", I said abruptly, eyes flashing over to the girl. "What's the story?"

She eyed me carefully before replying. "What story?"

"How you died, how old you were when you died, how long you have been stuck here, the sorts. And who your parents were." I added.

The girl must find something absolutely fascinating about my face, seeing she just stared at me for a while, eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression.

I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for an answer. At last she smiled sweetly at me, and asked, "What does it matter who my parents were?"

Something about her is way off, I decided. She doesn't seem upset at all that she no longer has a heartbeat, nor does she look like someone who grew up not having a clue who her father was. Well, I more or less grew up minus a dad, and I turned out okay. I think. But hello, I wasn't born in the 19th century. And at least I got to see him for a while after he died. But not this girl. She probably had it tough, not getting the kind of love only a father can provide. And doing chores only the men in the family were accustomed to do. That is, unless her mother remarried. Which I sincerely hope she did, because that'd have definitely been best for both her daughter and herself. I, of all people, should know how it feels to lose Jesse.

But on the other hand, the girl must have been in this world for at least 50 years or so. She should have had lots of time to rethink everything about her life when she had one. And realize that all that have happened, happened for a reason.

I sighed. "I guess it doesn't really. I was just curious."

"Oh that's fine," She said, sounding sickeningly cheerful. "But in answer to your previous questions, I drowned, I was 17, and I have been stuck in this world for quite a while. Really, more than a century."

Well. That's something to consider. A seventeen years old girl drowning? The world is so not fair.

Biting my lip, I grimaced and said in a softer tone, "I'm sorry. Seventeen is a really young age to die."

For a second, I thought I caught the sight of her clear, bright eyes flashing with anger. But after a blink, she was all Ms. Sunshine again. Yet I doubt I'd imagined that quick spark of fire. Perhaps she didn't have enough time. Perhaps she is still very bitter that she died not knowing the truth of her father. Her mother wouldn't have told her, would she?

"Nah," She shrugged, still smiling. "I got most out of my life before that. It was a relief, actually, that I didn't have to go through the hardship of everyday trials anymore since that day."

I knew it.

But I didn't know what to say to her comment. Bowing my head low, I shuffled my feet around a little, buying time. After a few moments, the girl spoke again, as if she wasn't even expecting an answer.

"I was just going to the creek with my friends and sisters. We were only there to cool off and swim around a bit, to wash off all the dirt from working all day. Planting the fields, drawing water from wells, irrigating the crops, gathering woods for a fire to cook dinner, mucking out stalls, and such. That day we even had to finish building a new fence for the pigs. Why, we even went hunting for game before we headed for the creek. Meat was running low, and I thought it'd be fun. My mother was very sick, my father had already passed away, and we were pretty desperate to provide meat to my mother in any possible means. I was pretty skilled at archery, and my sister Tess was perfect with a single dagger. She came along with me just in case we were faced with a predicament of whether to cut whatever we killed up or just drag it home. We only ended up with two rabbits, though. But it was better than nothing. It also felt good to do something that no one would dare to think of a girl doing, and out there in the woods all by ourselves with a sense of peace only nature could provide felt like heaven. Even if I felt somewhat guilty about being the one to end two hare's life, I knew it had to be done. I was trained to be tough, not letting anything get in my way of any goal. Sometimes it made me feel like a cold and cruel person, but even that can come in handy at times. Anyway, after that, we were both exhausted and needed a bath. We rounded up the rest of our sisters and some of our friends and went to the little creek not too far away. After awhile the others were done and they said they were tired and wanted to leave. I wasn't ready, since I wanted to soak some more, so I just told to go ahead. After they left, I swam for a long time, not caring that it was already pitch dark. While I went under for a few minutes, I must have sunk deeper than I realized because suddenly I felt my right leg caught up in a web of seaweed or something like that. I couldn't pull free, I couldn't float up, I couldn't get enough oxygen, I couldn't breathe. Soon, I felt myself slipping away, and the last thing I remember feeling before I gave in to darkness completely is relief. End of story."

I stared at her, her crooked smile, lighting her face with a bitter sadness that I didn't have the time to contemplate. Her words ran through my head, screaming for understanding. Building fences, poaching, archery, daggers, game, a small creek, seaweed, slipping away, RELIEF. It all jumbled up inside my head, making perfect sense, yet I have trouble processing it all at the same time. Confusion and compassion both settled in at once, and the full impact of everything made me entirely speechless. Instead, I just stood there, hoping words wasn't what she was expecting.

Puck, positioned right to my left, let out a huge exhales of breath and then whistled. It seems he couldn't find the right words to express his reaction to the revelation either. But no matter. Nothing said would ever be enough.

Well, there is also that single possibility that she's lying. I mean, it's certainly very hard for me to believe that someone like her would just go poaching. They actually still do that in the 19th century? And girls would just kill innocent animals? And her sister actually agreed? What the hell. Why not just slaughter one of the pigs they were building the fence for? And her drowning incident lacks detail, not that I'm saying only descriptions make an event true. It's just... there's something really wrong with everything she just said.

But whatever.

Right now, by how she's gazing out the window with a total remorse expression, I'll have no choice but to believe her.

After a few minutes of silence, the girl turned her unbelievably sparkling eyes on me, and I felt the full force of the fact that her appearance was exactly like Jesse. Knowing this wasn't the time to be feeling sorry for myself, I gave a nod of my head to show her that I understood. I understood her tribulations of every day life, difficult as they may all be. I understood why she had to go through all that, why she was left with no choice but to do the obvious, no matter how much she didn't want to. I understood her emotions as she glided through that last day in her life, and her final feeling of satisfaction. I understood it all, even though I feel as if I'm not supposed to.

Well, I'm not. How could I get all she was saying? How could I comprehend every word that flowed out of her mouth? I never lived her life, I never experienced the life she led. So why is it that I, a mere sixteen years old normal –well, partly- girl, can relate to all she has said and feel as if I've been there?

Nothing makes sense.

Not anymore. Not even what Jesse has done. True, it hurts more than anyone will ever know, but I haven't heard the whole story yet. Hell, it could be even totally different than what I've been imagining.

Not very possible, but still.

I swallowed a huge lump that formed itself in my throat, and tried to smile at the girl. She took in my forced smile and smirked. Not in a mean way, just to let me know that I didn't have to do anything to make her feel better. Because it's pretty evident that she isn't someone who stands for pity or even sympathy.

I had to respect her in that. But growing up without part of the whole that bred you does that to you, I guess. If I were Jesse, I would be proud. Thinking about Jesse again gave me that huge pang of pain, and I willed myself to take several deep breaths and blinked away my tears.

Suddenly, as if reading my thoughts –well, actually he does-, Jesse himself materialized before me. I stared at him, trying to get into his brain to know what he was thinking right that moment. He looked back at me, confused.

"Susannah?" He asked, sounding uncertain. "Are you all right? You look a little pale... and sick. Are you quite..."

Jesse's words trailed off as I pointed to the direction of the windowsill, and I watched as his pupils widened in shock and his face drained of color. Well, there wasn't that much color on his face anyway, being a ghost and all, but you know what I mean.

"Nombre de Dios," he muttered, gawking at the girl sitting there. "Santo Cielo." (A/n- thanks, Lolly and Clavel, for helping me with the Spanish.)

Ghost girl just sat there still, but her face took on a kinder and more open expression. She gazed at Jesse, and if I'm not mistaken, I could swear I saw tears brimming in her eyes.

"Jesse," she breathed, her voice coming out as gasps.

Wait a minute. She's calling him Jesse? How could that be, unless...

"Ria," Jesse choked out. "Cielo Santo."

Um, is it possible that she's not his daughter after all? That she's just, you know, his SISTER? Well, only one way to find out.

"So," I said carefully, and Jesse slowly and reluctantly turned his head to look at me. "Is that your daughter?"

Jesse blinked. "Querida, what are you talking about? I never had any daughter. Ria is, well, my sister."

Oh.

My.

GOD.