Author's note: Hey thanks for the review-age everybody! I appreciate every bit of feedback I get. Nothing much to add except to clear up a misconception – I don't hate Jesse. I love him. I'm just not so crazy about him and Suze as a couple. But you know, I'm a big fat ruin-er of canon that way – I ::heart:: unconventional couples.
Anyway, once again – love and stuff to those who continue to read. Cookies for everyone!
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"I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away"
- The Rolling Stones
Chapter One
Paul's "I'm sorry" was the most resonant.
The events and people fluttering about me in the wake of my loss are all a blur when I look back. Faces and words meshed together to form white noise in the back of my mind – a pitiful murmuring soundtrack to my grief. Condolences and sympathetic looks were absorbed but it was so generic, they filtered through leaving me only with kind sentiment.
Until Paul, that is whose even, matter-of-fact voice was a sharp contrast to the soft, pitying sounds I'd heard all day.
"He didn't deserve this," he said quietly, after the funeral.
His hand rested on my shoulder and he wiped tears from my cheek with a hanky he'd once stuffed in my mouth. I stood numbly and let him touch me, too indifferent to push him away. What would be the point? Telling him to piss off wouldn't make the only person I wanted near me magically appear.
"I'm sorry Suze," he said upon receiving no response. "You don't deserve this either."
I managed a faint nod, and he folded up his handkerchief and stuffed it in my coat pocket before leaving me alone once more.
I didn't speak to him again until the beginning of senior year, he wisely kept his distance and I had no desire to seek him out. But oddly enough, I thought of him in the interim. Not all the time of course, I mean, hello! I was grieving remember? I mostly thought of Jesse. And yet, there were moments when I shut my eyes and willed my thoughts to stray from my first love and the fact that I'd never see him again. It was then that I remembered how gentle Paul had been when he wiped my tears away, how solid he felt beside me in the midst of a spinning world.
When I wasn't feeling positively traitorous for appreciating the quiet comfort of a guy who Jesse had disliked (with good reason), I probably should have considered a few other things. Like how easily Paul slid into my mind, for one; that should have been a definite clue of what was to come. Not to mention the way I had no qualms about using his hanky to dry my tears every night. I shouldn't have held onto the souvenir, I should have returned it immediately.
The point is, you know what I said about hindsight? Well with the clarity of my retrograding vision, I can see that it all started even before Jesse died. Before he even lived for a second time. It happened the moment Paul's lips first touched mine, and I've been sitting on unresolved Slater issues ever since. Without Jesse, it was only a matter of time before I arrived here.
But if there was a moment when I could have stopped it, I passed it over that first day back.
……………………….
Here's the thing about the first day of school: It sucks. Even if you're wearing a fabulous new skirt and sweater combo from the Christian Dior fall collection. Even if you're determined to make this whole "life-without-love" thing really work for you.
It still sucks. In the history of first days of school, I can honestly say without guile that it's always a less-than-pleasant experience. Anybody who says otherwise is either one of those rare breeds who actually enjoy school for whatever reason, or just plain lying.
Anyway, I was still (naively) hoping to at least get through the day without any major disasters. Which, granted is a pretty tall order for any day of the week when it comes to my life, but you can't blame a girl for attempting a little optimism can you? Especially in the wake of tragedy on the first day of school. That's a double dose of Obstacle To Overcome right there.
Although alas! In spite of my best efforts, I could already see my day going downhill with the approach of him at my locker assignment.
Okay, let me just say right here before I go any further, that at the time I did not hate Paul Slater. In fact, it's been a long time since I even disliked him. I mean, sure when I first met the guy he was a big tool, but people do change you know. And despite my initial determination to place him on par with The First Evil of Buffy fame, I can now recognize my own misplaced conceptions.
I know that he wasn't a nice guy at the beginning, but he certainly wasn't evil. I began to understand in the conversations following his part in Jesse's resurrection that he was just a spoiled rich brat with 'hands off' parents, used to getting what he wanted materially. Add some pretty impressive abilities to that formula, and you get the vindictive version of Paul I spent months grappling with before he finally conceded defeat.
It's been a long while since he's been that guy. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not as if he's a big saint now or anything; after he realized he couldn't have me, he became the biggest player in the school. But the influence of Father Dom, and the experience his grandfather – who he's developed a pretty decent relationship with – has served as a nice dose of reality for him.
It's hard to remain all God-complex-y and holier-than-thou when you see the destructive consequences of your actions, and get a glimpse at the pain of others. It's, as he put it, "humbling."
Although… well, let's be real here – He's still pretty well endowed in the ego department (Oh come on now, minds out of the gutter), and has a good helping of smart ass-ery at his disposal. But his previously hibernating humanitarian side has come out to provide a balance for his annoying traits. It wasn't long after he witnessed the true love that was Jesse and me in action that he started putting his skills to work. Now, I won't pretend he's a better mediator than me because, well, who are we kidding?
But he's well-connected and has a certain… professionalism. Paul has actually proved to be pretty good at getting morose ghosts to cut through all the shit and get straight to the point. He's efficient in his dealings with the undead, and has sent a lot of spirits on their merry way since he started taking his duties seriously.
Surprisingly enough, his work has even led him to ditch the misanthropy and I've cornered him into confessing that he actually (cue gasp here) likes a certain portion of the human race. He's even taken to developing a pretty affectionate mentor/mentee relationship with his little brother. (An act which I wholeheartedly supported).
The above notwithstanding, we still weren't exactly best buds or anything. I mean, of course we became friends when he started cleaning up his act – people like us need to stick together. But based on the rather tenuous (putting it mildly) relationship he had with my boyfriend, and everything else between us, we basically just kept things confined to business.
Then when Jesse died… well, I mean, forget about it. Paul was the last person I wanted to see. He was, after all, the biggest naysayer to our happiness when my guy was still a ghost. He promised me it would never work out between us – a pretty damned ominous warning if you ask me. Sure, he took it back later, even wished us the best of luck, but after somebody dies and crosses over… things like that really start to stand out.
Not to mention the fact that I felt like a big fat traitor for appreciating Paul's simply sincere, pity-free form of comfort and held onto his handkerchief far longer than was really necessary. The truth was I dreaded seeing Paul at school or anywhere else, because in some small place in the back of my mind, I know now I was afraid of what feeling something, anything for him might mean. Like... calm down girl, your first love's body isn't even cold yet, you know?
My therapist of course said that feeling grateful to Paul at that point didn't make my feelings for Jesse any less real or strong, but… well, you know my track record with shrinks. One of them hands me some actual valid advice and it totally goes over my head while I stare dubiously at their proudly displayed PHD or whatever.
So you can understand my reservations when not five minutes into my first day back at the hellmouth, you-know-who fell into step beside me on my way to my locker.
"Hey Suze," his smile was way too perfect.
"Hey," I weakly tossed back, picking up the pace in a futile effort to ditch him.
"So," he took my elbow to steer me away from a collision course with a frazzled freshman, "Hear any good jokes lately?"
I stared at him dubiously until his grin turned sheepish.
"I needed an icebreaker," he explained.
"And I suppose 'How was your summer' wasn't corny enough for your tastes?"
"Well actually…" his expression dipped into seriousness before noticing my flinch, he quickly shifted back to lightness. "No."
But the damage was done. I knew he, like so many others, would tactfully ignore any possible reference to my vacation since it was common knowledge just how I'd spent it. You know, grieving and all.
"Whatever." Done with even half-heartedly attempting pleasantries, I hurriedly brushed past him.
"Oh come on Suze," he easily caught up to me, "Don't tell me you're still determined to avoid me."
"I'm not avoiding you," I lied.
"We didn't speak all summer," he pointed out.
"Oh you mean the summer I just spent mourning the loss of the only person I will ever love, and attending endless therapy sessions?" I snapped, "Because for the record, that's how my vacation was."
"You're annoyed with me for not asking," he decided.
"I'm annoyed that you of all people suddenly feel the need to coddle me."
"I was trying to be tactful," his voice picked up an irritable edge that pleased me for some reason.
"Since when does tact factor into your actions?"
Yes, I know - low blow, and all that. And really, I don't know why I suddenly wanted to push his buttons. It's not as if he was being a total jerk, or anything like that, a tad clueless maybe but his intentions were good. I just knew that his irritation was causing me to smile inwardly and I wanted to continue with that theme. It was after all, a whole lot better than the numbness I felt most of the time.
"Okay fine, you want me to ditch it, I will." He stopped next to my locker and faced me, "How was your summer, Simon?"
"It sucked."
"Great. Mine too by the way, thanks for asking. I spent a good deal of it in Antigua with my uncle on possibly the most boring archeological expedition ever."
"How nice for you."
"Not really."
"Good." I turned to my locker and aggressively spun the combination, "So are we done here? Now that forced pleasantries are out of the way, I mean."
He sighed loudly and leaned against the locker next to mine, "You just always have to do things the hard way don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I stubbornly replied.
"Fine. Whatever," he shoved himself away from the locker, "Have your space."
"Thanks," I said tersely.
"But you're wrong about one thing, Suze."
I knew even then that I shouldn't have indulged him, but sometimes these things can't be helped. So even as my better judgment protested I raised my eyebrow and asked just as he knew I would,
"And what exactly would that be?"
"Jesse wasn't the only person you'll ever love," he explained and would have walked away after dropping that little point to ponder if I hadn't grabbed his arm to stop him.
The remark stung, of course. How dare he suggest that I would love somebody else after I'd already resigned myself to the inevitability of dying alone? It hurt way too much to think that another could ever take his place.
"And what the hell would you know about it?" I demanded, "Because last I checked, you weren't exactly an expert on these things."
"I know that you're only 17," he said matter-of-factly. Then his voice dropped an octave or two, "And I know that you're way too passionate to escape falling in love again for the rest of your life."
"That's bull," I glared at him. "I'll never find another guy like Jesse."
"No, I don't suppose you will," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean you're destined to be alone forever either."
"Have you and Dr. Caldwell been comparing notes?" I demanded, "Because you're starting to sound a lot like her."
"Well then maybe I've found my calling."
"Oh that's good," I rolled my eyes. "Listen Paul, you're both wrong, okay? I happen to know it for a fact."
"Oh really?"
I sighed, "Yes, really. Somebody told me a long time ago that I would only have one true love. That means, Jesse by the way. And now that he's gone, so is any chance for happily ever after, alright?"
"What a crock," Paul mimicked my previous actions and rolled his own eyes, "Who fed you that garbage?"
I really don't know what possessed me to tell him, and had I been thinking rationally instead of getting caught up in the moment, I wouldn't have. But I was way past logic at that point.
"A psychic I visited once," I admitted.
He actually laughed. I couldn't believe it either on account of the fact I was baring my soul and all. But apparently where Paul was concerned, old habits die hard. He must have noticed my indignant expression though, because he wrapped it up a moment later.
"I'm sorry Suze," he sounded sincerely apologetic, "But, I mean come on. A psychic?"
"So what?" I demanded, "I'll have you know she happened to know that I speak to the dead. That seems pretty authentic to me."
"So she knew some things about your present," he argued. "That doesn't mean you have to accept her take on your future."
"Why not?"
He gave me his patented 'You-have-much-to-learn-young-grasshopper' look and leaned towards me, placing his hand on my locker in a half-hearted version of his 'trap' maneuver.
"How many times do I have to tell you Simon," he said, "That you forge your own destiny. Even if a psychic gives you some vague look at what's in store for you, doesn't mean you don't have the power to change it."
"I don't know Paul. In my experience, love isn't something we mere mortals have much control over."
"Maybe not," he conceded, "But your fate isn't set in stone either. I mean even if the cards were true, who says Jesse was the one you were destined to be with anyway?"
"Of course he was," I felt some of my anger returning at the suggestion. "I loved him."
"I never said you didn't," he told me, "You can love a lot of people in your life whom you just aren't meant to be with."
"That's -,"
"True," he interrupted before I could protest any further. "If the Universe was so determined that he was the one for you, then why -,"
"Stop it!" I cut in, "Don't say it, Paul. I'm warning you, do not finish that sentence."
Because I could absolutely not bear to have it verbalized, what he was about to suggest. Why did Jesse die if we were meant to be together? Didn't the psychic say it was supposed to last until the end of time? But then, the absurdity of such a statement only added fuel to Paul's argument. The end of time. Such an obviously stock fluff fortune for the gullible public, like staring at somebody's palm and claiming they'd live a long and full life. It was so generic, so vague. For all I knew, Madame Whatzername tossed it out there to console me for the creepy 'You talk to the dead' reading that preceded it.
Sure, the ninth key card that came up was accurate, but just because she got one hit didn't mean the other was a miss. Who ever said fortune telling was an exact science?
And then there was the fact that Paul could very well be right about Jesse not being my one true love, as painful as it was to admit. I mean, I loved him more than I ever thought I could love another human being, but was he the one? Whose to say we wouldn't have eventually broken up somewhere down the road? For all I knew, all first loves could be that intense, but how many of them actually lasted well into adulthood?
Of course, the state I was in, these things didn't really stick. I loved Jesse way too much, and was way too undone by his death to presume I would ever recover, let alone move on to somebody else. Even if I knew he must have wanted it that way.
"Look I'm sorry, alright?" Paul said for the second time in the space of five minutes (a definite record), "Just… don't cry, Suze."
I was crying? Oh shit, I realized a second later feeling the wetness on my cheeks, I was. How humiliating to not even make it to homeroom without having a breakdown. If this was any indication of how the rest of the day was going to be, I supposed I could kiss that whole 'have a decent first day' resolution goodbye.
"Here," Paul offered me his sleeve which of course reminded me that I still had his hanky. Not that I intended to give it back any time soon, of course.
I hated to sully his navy blue cashmere with my tears, but in a move that mirrored my actions at the funeral, I let him dry them.
"I just…" I tried to compose myself, aware of the attention we were attracting, "Miss him."
"Well no shit. It was obvious to anybody who saw the two of you together how much you loved each other."
I didn't know how he knew just the right thing to say in that moment, but he did nonetheless, and I managed the faintest smile as I pushed his arm away.
"That shirt is too nice to ruin."
"Was that… a compliment?" he feigned incredulity. "No, no, I must be mistaken. Susannah Simon would never stoop to complimenting the likes of me."
"You are mistaken," I assured him dabbing at the residual wetness on my cheeks with my own sleeve, "The compliment was bestowed upon your shirt."
"Close enough," he decided, studying me carefully. "You know I really didn't mean to…"
"Be an insensitive asshole?" I supplied when he seemed to falter.
"Okay, we'll go with that." He suddenly turned serious again, "Look Suze, just… don't completely disregard what I said because you're upset."
"But Jesse-,"
"I know, I know." Now he was focused, blue eyes holding mine with some of that trademark Slater intensity, "But don't let his death stop you from taking your future into your own hands, and…"
"If love comes a'knockin' answer the door?"
"I wouldn't have used a cliché," he assured me, "But yeah."
"You know, a lady with A PHD had no problem using that cliché," I informed him, "So don't act so imperious."
"This shrink of yours obviously knows what she's talking about," he observed.
"Yes, it's really quite impressive how she dishes out the same advice an 18 year old guy with no formal education is offering me now."
He grinned, "Touché."
The bell chose that exact second to ring which I now attribute to divine intervention, because had the moment stretched on any longer I could have been in serious trouble. Well, at least if the way my pulse started racing at the sight of his smile was any indication. Because for one, how traitorous was I getting all gooey over some guy's grin a mere three months after Jesse passed away. Especially if the guy was, oh I don't know, his arch enemy?
And secondly, why was I even carrying on a conversation long enough to elicit that smile with a guy I was supposed to be avoiding at all costs?
"Well there's our cue," I said thankfully, collecting my things and hurrying towards homeroom. "See you around okay?"
I didn't give him a chance to catch up this time, freaked out as I was by my stupidly treacherous pulse that couldn't maintain a normal rate. Why wouldn't my body mourn the way my heart did?
Either way, I was grateful that the powers that be were at least kind enough to make up for my faithless body by getting me out of the situation.
Of course, moments later I discovered that the Universe wasn't as generous as I previously supposed. Because who should saunter into my homeroom mere moments after I'd sat down and casually take the empty seat next to me?
Yeah, you got it in one.
And you know what the really sick thing is? I was actually glad to see him.
TBC…