Horror Vacui

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so darn long to get this chapter up. After I began writing it and saved it on my computer's hard drive something funky happened and the next think I know it's gone! Poof! Gone. (Let this be a lesson to ye youngsters: always save your important stories on a floppy disk.) And before I knew it, then school got in the way—it always does—so I've been working dutifully on bits and pieces every few days. But everybody else's stories are so bloody cool, I get distracted reading them!

A/N: But anyway. I'm sure you guys don't want to hear my sad excuses for being a lazy bum. Thanks a million to all you lovely people who have reviewed! It puts a smile on my face to read and reread those reviews. And since I have made you guys wait so long I feel it is my respectful duty to respond to each and every one of you.

Arda Silverlace: Of course Jesse will come in soon! What kind of self-respecting Jesse fan would I be if he never appeared? And Jesse has yet to make acquaintances with both Suze and Paul. Lucky duck. I wouldn't mind meeting them, me self!

Erm…I believe you're analyzing the Void too deeply. The actual answer is somewhere between those two suggestions. You'll possibly see the real answer as the story continues. But it's good to know my readers study this story so closely. –grins-

Beebee17: -laughs- I haven't fulfilled your request of more and soon but here's a little bit more…enjoy!

NiceHayley: I know! The dress issue thingy makes Suze seem less unique and Suze-like but I've always thought of Suze as kinda tomboy-ish despite her good fashion sense so I thought her reaction was required.

Paul? Yummy? That scares me. I never thought of Paul (the evil shifter) as yummy! Yikes! –giggles- We'll see where Suze goes and if Paul follows. You never know… Or am I that obvious?

Muzacgurl: Thanks a bunch! Yeah, I thought it was important to have a Suze-ish moment in there. She's always thinking silly thoughts when something major just happened. Like right after a breezeway falls on top of her or she travels 170 years back in time. Either or. Thanks for reviewing!

Mystique Anqelique: You really think so? Gosh. –blushes- Absoscrumuliciouslylutely? Cute word! I don't know if Paul is mean enough yet or creepy/stalker-ish yet but maybe in this chapter…

You're just being modest. I think your stories are much more entertaining and witty than mine. You've written more too. And update more often. The qualities of a good writer/author. –nods- 'Tis true, you know.

(Oh, and by the way, I'm thirteen. Just, like incase you wanted to know…yeah.)

LilDevil: Okay! Point taken so much. Here's the update, enjoy and don't forget to review!

Softball_gurl13: Why, thank you kindly. Please do read on…

Kelly: I love Tru Calling too! Did you see that new episode with Tamari Gray recently? So cool (but what's up with this new Jack guy?)! Wow. I love it that my readers are trying to analyze what the Void is! My actual idea of the Void is super lame and lacks creativity so I'll just go with your and Arda Silverlace's ideas of what it is.

Foolish Fish: I love Paul too, but not as much as I love Jesse. If Jesse (& Paul) were real and not, you know, fictional characters, I'd totally have a crush on the two of them.

LinkinParkGurlie: I thank thee, truly. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

And don't worry, you guys. Jesse's coming super soon, either in this chapter or the next. And I seriously love you ALL for reviewing!!!! This is a super long chapter dedicated to the story of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere. I don't know why, it just is.

Chapter Three: A Familiar Face

Paul was right.

After half an hour of walking I began to see in the distance tiny wooden buildings, horse drawn wagons and dudes on horseback. Those are probably the rich cowboys. Farther off, the sparkling turquoise Pacific Ocean greeted me, which was a pleasant sight for sore eyes.

I've always admired the breath-taking sight since I first laid eyes on Carmel. It's quite humbling to see the amazingly massive blue blanket and the open green vegetation, which is positively gigantic compared to the decent yet small manmade structures and the people as well.

Oddly enough the air tasted and smelled less polluted, dirtied and contaminated than with George W. Bush Jr. reigning as America's president, too. Funny, ain't it?

Nevertheless, I am not planning on thanking him. No way. On the contrary, if I see him again I fully intent to pop him one in his sickeningly handsome face. Really, I do.

Paul, I mean, not Mr. Bush.

He totally does not deserve my thanks after suddenly appearing and saying a few words that intrigued me so much but then disappearing without any resolution at all.

But of course I didn't make it to the beautiful 170 years younger Carmel-by-the-sea without interference. Oh, no. Apparently the greater being has other plans for this girl.

Because ironically, a few minutes after Paul had disappeared a silhouette of a rider on a horse gradually become visible in the sun's blazing profile. My heart rate sped up considerably with the misgivings that this 'lone ranger' might be my Jesse coming out to save me and my feet (which now weren't dully stinging, no, but throbbing painfully with every single solitary step).

Ha, I wish. One in a million, sister.

No, this guy was practically the complete opposite of Jesse.

Now a mere few yards away from him, I was close enough to note that the guy wasn't as lavishly garbed as Paul was and he was riding a horse the same dark brown color as my dress. The poor horse looked to be limping and panting deeply as if it had been forced to run early on without a decent drink of water. The guy also carried a bulky burlap bag the kind those bank robbers have filled with stolen bank money in all those Wild West movies.

Clearly, this guy was one of those "dangerous folk" Paul had mentioned.

I was huffing and puffing along, my head held high nonetheless, completely and deliberately overlooking the wanted cowboy (or so I assume that's what he is: a wanted law breaker). But people just can't seem to overlook little ol' Suze anymore, now can they?

I mean, I pay no attention to Joan then she starts blabbing to me, I brushed off Paul ages ago but he badgers me as if there's no tomorrow (so to speak), and now this guy is studying me with this leering gaze which I know from experience can't signify anything good.

"What are you looking at?" I inquired with a bit more venom than was required.

Then the dude's leer grew even wider if possible revealing a few cracked and missing front teeth and a few chipped gold ones too.

How very attractive.

He descended off the dark colored horse lightly with some attitude as if he was Gods gift to women.

As if.

I noticed that the horse looked extremely pleased when the man got off him. Poor creature. People should not be cruel to animals; they can't even fend for themselves sometimes, you know?

"Dude, I am walking here. Move." I said sharply as he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He wasn't getting on my D-nerve yet but the fact that he hadn't uttered a word at all and was still holding the money sack even now was a tad bit disconcerting.

And he was still grinning like a dimwit. That was freaky too.

It made him look like one of those bobble-head dashboard toys, you know, with huge grins and usually something in their hands or whatever.

I didn't look that much like a hooker, did I? The hot sun and the amount of perspiring I was achieving wasn't working wonders for my hair, but apart from that and my ripped lace sleeves and bare feet I don't think I looked all that bad. He had no right to be staring at me like I had just sprouted another head or something.

Mr. Bobble-head finally affirmed to say something. It's a good thing he decided to do so too because I had half the mind to just kick him so I could go along on my merry little way (and to put the poor horse out of it's misery at having such a lousy owner). Every second he wasted was a second I lost before I eventually got to Carmel-by-the-sea.

"Hullo there, little missy."

Huh. Not what I was expecting.

But what I definitely was not expecting was to be seized by both my wrists and yanked threateningly forward. Again.

As if I haven't been pushed around enough today.

I gasped involuntarily, which caused the guy to grin once more in this way that undeniably said "Ha! I've got you now little missy. And there ain't nothin' you can do 'bout it."

Ain't nothin' my foot.

I quickly wiggled free and did the only thing the guy had coming from me since I saw him; I hauled off and slugged him.

It's now safe to say Mr. Bobble-head doesn't have anymore front teeth.

It fully serves him right. He fell to the dusty road with a thud as the contents of the bag clinked out. Gold coins. I figured as much.

I waited for half a minute and he didn't rise. I kicked his boot with my foot.

He didn't move.

Great. I had knocked him into unconsciousness. Whoever said that cowboys were made of tough stuff was totally on something.

At length I swooped down and picked up a few of the coins—you never know when you're gonna need cash—and grabbed the leather reins of his horse.

I've never been a big fan of animals but I sincerely was beginning to like this horse. Maybe for its strength and endurance, I don't know. But I wasn't planning on leaving it here with a swooning cowboy. That's as bad as animal abuse. Maybe worse.

The horse nickered at me and gently nudged my shoulder in a happy manner. I would have ridden the horse but it still seemed tired (and horses do not tire easily so that tells you it's been mistreated) and besides I don't know how to ride a horse.

That kinda put a damper on things. I could have made it to Carmel-by-the-Sea much faster if I had taken those riding lessons my mom offered me when I was thirteen right after I was found by New York's finest in an art museum stealing a horse sculpture because a troubled ghost claimed it was theirs.

But I should really stop living in the past.

Anyway, like I said before, I walked into the outskirts of Carmel in half an hour, with a horse trailing my footsteps.

Carmel didn't look as freaky and uncivilized as I had imagined but all the structures were constructed of wood planks, no concrete, steel or glass buildings and towers in sight. I admit that I was a tidbit overwhelmed as I led the horse through a small town with stores selling suits, shoes, dresses, tools (probably for the Gold Rush thing going on about this time in history), and a few bars and drug stores, which most likely wasn't quite like Longs or Safe-Way. I coughed a few times as horses drew up clouds of dust.

Men on horseback rode through the town, glancing at me occasionally, but stopping once I glared defiantly back at them, and women with children clutching their thick skirts walked close to the buildings and stores, avoiding contact with any of the riders. And a few horse-drawn carriages passed as I ambled through the town slowly but surely, soaking in all the daily business, talk and gestures of these simple before-electricity century people.

The way they all talked was a scream!

Soon all the buildings, bars and stores began to thin out and I was now walking uphill. Taking a closer look at my surroundings I could distinctly tell that I was on familiar territory that I have been on hundreds of times before in the 21st century.

A huge, attractive wooden Victorian-style house with a turret and a widow's walk greeted my eyesight after a couple minutes. A few small pine tree saplings stood at the sides of the house, they'd grew to be large shady trees in time. A wooden sign hung from the porch front. On it was carved in old English text 'Farr From Home Inn.' Somebody sure can't spell.

I stopped abruptly in front of the place, making the horse snort loudly in my ear, and gasped, gazing up at my house. 99 Pine Crest Road.

Okay, all this gasping was starting to hurt my ribs and stomach since I was after all wearing a corset that sucked out my very life, so I immediately stopped.

Now, if I recall correctly from one of Doc's many speeches my house was built in 1849 to serve as a boarding house and it had a reputation of trouble. Gunfights and fistfights over card games, gambling or women and so on. Did I really want to set foot in this place? Looking like a nineteenth-century prostitute, I don't think I really did.

But what choice do I actually have? Where else can I go?

No where, that's where. This sucks.

Hopefully I may be able to find Jesse once I checked in or rented a room in my future home, but I guess you never know. I might even be able to prevent his death or meet his family! Cool!

My confidence renewed, I tied up my horse on a wooden post, near two other horses, one a dappled gray, the other pure white with a water trough in front of them and entered the boarding house.

Upon entering the first thing I saw was a bar/tavern-like counter with a British man behind it. A few timber round tables were scattered before the counter. Men were seated around most of the tables with tankards of alcohol and card decks spread across the tabletops and in their hands. A few were arguing loudly with each other. Is this the front parlor where all those bar fights took place? In the corner was a grand piano; a man was playing on it while a lady in a pale sea foam green dress sang to the jingle.

And this was my future living room! Scary.

I walked to the counter. Okay, remember: this is the 1850s, no slang or anything like that. I have to be "civilized" and all that junk in order to blend in.

Like that'll happen but I can try.

"Um, good afternoon, sir. I'd like to rent a room, if any are…available," I said smiling amiably.

"Good afternoon indeed, lady," the British man behind the counter replied in a somewhat bothered accent. "Do you know how many fights've occurred today because o' those blokes ov'r there? Four o' them! Good afternoon indeed!" He gestured to the tables wildly. "Oy, men! I'll be having none of that!" He yelled to them as one of the men who had been arguing earlier smashed a glass bottle over another's head.

I blinked at the British man, unsure of how to respond.

"But where are my manners?" He grinned suddenly. "Forgive me. I'm Kay Farr, owner of this boarding house. Those two over there," (he pointed at the man and lady at the piano) "my sister and me cousin. They help me run this business and it's a good thing too, I need all the help I can get. Never knew it would be this difficult running an inn, what with all the work, we have to provide people with lodging, food—"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's quite a lot of work, but could you handle one more? I need a room. Please." It probably wasn't very nice to interrupt but come on, I was tired. I held out the gold coins. "I have a little bit of money but I'll help out with like washing dishes and uh, sweeping or cleaning to pay off a room or something."

He looked at me thoughtfully. I shifted under his gaze hoping he didn't really notice my attire. Kay seemed to be Jake's age but much more responsible, wiser and pleasant at least when he wasn't mad. He took from me the coins.

"This isn't enough but I suppose you can share a room with Anet. You won't cause much trouble, will you? She won't stand for it." He whistled and the girl who had been singing glanced at him inquisitively. She ceased her singing, said something to the guy on the piano then walked over to us. She looked about my age but much prettier than me, I hate to admit it. She had light blonde hair like Kay but unlike him she had a small delicate frame.

"What's amiss, Kay?" Her blue eyes narrowed. "Did another person break one of mother's plates? I swear to you Kay, so help me God if—"

Kay waved a hand hastily at her.

"No, nothin' of that sort, mercifully. I've only found you a new roommate, for the time bein'. She'll be assisting you with your chores and such. Her name is—beg pardon, but what's your name again, miss?"

I hadn't told him yet but maybe he was just trying to be polite. "It's Susannah. Susannah Simon."

"Hello, Susannah," the girl said with enthusiasm, shaking my hand in her firm grasp. "I am Anet Farr, I'm something like the greeter of people who stay at Farr From Home. I've never seen you around Carmel before; no doubt you're new here, hmm? What state did you come from? Judging from the condition of you're clothes I wouldn't be surprised if you've traveled all the way from the Big Apple herself!"

I had some trouble understanding all that Anet said because even though her English was unaccented unlike her brother's she talked very quickly. Like me, I realized with some disbelief. "Yes, I came from New York a few months ago, you could say." Well, I was trying to be honest.

"Lovely. Anet, can you show Miss Susannah to your room and inform her a bit on the work the two o' you will be doing 'round here?" Kay stared distracted at the table nearest the window. "I fear another fight's about to break lose. You'd better be leaving. This isn't a place for young ladies at this time."

Anet took my hand and directed me upstairs. Faintly I could hear Kay's deafening voice as he attempted to break up the fight.

"Don't mind, Kay," she stated unconcerned as we walked up the last few stairs and passed my future room (Jesse should be in there!) and Brad's room too. "He's been a worry wart lately, it's nothing personal. He's usually really very nice."

"You don't have to defend you're brother," I replied, my mind on what was behind my future bedroom door. Jesse! My heart throbbed painfully just at the though of him. Just beyond my reach! "He seemed…sweet, but so not my type."

Anet blinked at me curiously. "What?"

I could feel my face flush crimson. "Oh, um, nothing."

We passed where there should be the master bedroom and bathroom but instead there were two smaller bedrooms built out of that lone space.

She still looked a little bit suspicious so I changed the subject. "Are there any other people staying here at the Farr From Home Inn?" I asked trying to seem nonchalant.

Anet laughed good-naturedly. "Why, of course! We can't fit many people in but we have at least two or three in each of the five rooms. But not all of those men downstairs actually board here. That would be mayhem indeed! No, most come throughout the day to eat and drink. Kay brews some of the best beer ever tasted says my cousin, Derek. But I wouldn't really believe him, if I were you." She lowered her voice even though no one could hear us. "He's something of a charmer, if you understand me. 'T'would be wise to avoid him."

"Okay…so your cousin helps around here too, right? Kay told me that at least, but who else resides here?"

"At the moment? Only four others that I'm aware of. An elderly couple, and two men. A Mr. Benjamin Nightingale and a Mr. Hector de Silva. But only three rooms are being used since the couple share one." She lowered her voice again and she placed her hand on the doorknob of Doc's future room. "You may want to remain quiet because the elder are sleeping right now. It's nearly dusk."

She opened the door. "This is my room, you'll be sharing it with me. I hope you don't mind, it's small but still comfy."

She's right it was but elegantly so. With a lace canopy bed and a mahogany dressing table with a mirror and a small chest of clothing, it looked even better than my room!

"No, I like it. It's very nice and simple…which is a good thing."

Anet blushed slightly at this compliment. "Well, seeing as you haven't brought any suitcases or effects with you, you can borrow a few of my dresses and" --she looked down at my feet—"a pair of shoes. I won't miss them." She handed to me shoes that didn't have heels or anything, they felt like buckskin, and two dresses much like the one I wore except these were in much better condition. One was pale blue the other a light pink. Very pretty, yet very heavy too.

"Wow, Anet. Thanks!" I was genuinely touched so I gave her a swift hug, making her blush again, which caused her pastel cheeks to shade a soft red color.

"You need them more than I do. Just hurry and change, then I can show you around downstairs and explain the chores we'll be doing together. I'll be back shortly. I think I'll check up on Kay…"

"Alright. Thanks again," I called as she shut the door and walked away.

Quickly I discarded my brown dress which took a minute because I had to untie, unlace and unbutton each layer of clothe but thankfully Anet's dress wasn't as complicated to put on and within five minutes I was ready. But I wasn't planning on going down to find Anet yet. Not to do chores, please. I never go willingly to chores.

No, I had it in my mind to find a different person. Jesse.

Soundlessly I put on the shoes and opened the door then closed it behind me as I entered the hallway. Like a cat sneaking up on a mouse I crept to the door of my future bedroom. Taking a deep breath I opened the door and found…

…No one in sight.

Yup, no Jesse or anything. Just a brown leather suitcase, an undecorated bed with a wool blanket and a wooden set of dresser drawers against a wall that was ornamented with only a framed portrait of the Ten Commandments which I had also seen in Anet's room so it didn't belong to Jesse.

"Hellooo? Jesse? Somebody?" I lightly stepped inside and since no one was there I decided to investigate the room.

Picking up the suitcase I studied it. The initials H.D.S. was imprinted on the side of it in bold black stamp. Hector de Silva. I was about to set it back down on the bed when I noticed a tan piece of parchment where the suitcase had lay. Odd. Placing the suitcase gingerly to the side I picked up the parchment.

Farr From Home Inn December 7th 1849

Mr. H. de Silva you have checked in the morning of

December 7th1849 before the noon meal as it's

negotiated beforehand. Date of leave unconfirmed

as of now yet the day of January 22nd 1850 may be a

possibility. Final date of departure will be confirmed

approximately three days before actual departure.

Hoping you have an unforgettable stay at Farr From

Home Inn, sincerely,

Kay B. Farr

Owner and Founder of Farr From Home Inn

That must be what a receipt looks like in this time period. It seems kind of hostile to me but to each his own, I suppose.

I held onto the receipt and walked over to the bay window facing the sea. This window much have been torn down before the 21st century because it was ancient and rather fragile, not something to be touched and the window I had in the 21st century, I was always leaning against it. There also wasn't any bay seat underneath the window, which was a pity. How was I supposed to admire the breath-taking view without a seat I ask you?

A slightly husky voice broke my train of thought. "Excuse me, hola, but this is my room."

I whirled around and stashed the receipt behind my back. "Jesse!" I cried happily seeing his tall form standing comfortably in the doorway as if he had been there always. He looked positively stunningly handsome even though he had a placid yet vaguely goaded look on his tan brown face and I had the impulse to run right over to him and give him a big hug and a kiss but somehow I was able to control myself.

His expression changed instantly as I said his nickname without thinking about it. From goaded and calm to relatively interested. "I beg your pardon, señorita, do I know you?"

I flushed, annoyed with myself.

"Uh…no." I said slowly thinking up an excuse that might foil Jesse's analyzing mind. "But you see, um…Anet told me a little bit about you and—"

Jesse smiled self-assuredly at me, which caused my heart to skip a beat and robbed me of breath. "I didn't tell Señorita Anet that my name was 'Jesse'. I'm Hector to her."

"Oh." I held up my hands in an I-surrender gesture, with a mischievous grin. "Alright, Hector," I said at length, using his proper name for his amusement, "you caught me red handed. I read your receipt. I am deeply ashamed of myself. My mother always said I shouldn't snoop but what do I do once on my own? I—"

It was another lie but didn't you believe it? But Jesse saw right through me like I was an open book.

"On the receipt it doesn't say 'Jesse,' el dama. It doesn't clearly state my name."

Damn. He got me there. I was racking my brain for a foolproof idea but Jesse didn't seem to care anymore how or why I knew his name.

"What is your name, señorita, since you seem to know mine so well? And why do I come back from the parlor to find you in my room, hmm?" He was polite and gentlemanly, just like he was when I first me him.

"I'm Susannah Simon. And this belongs to you." I handed him the receipt, purposefully not answering why I was in his room. "Uh, sorry, I looked at it."

"Thank you, Señorita Susannah," Jesse replied lightly as he took from me his receipt, his large brown hand brushing my own as he did so.

Jesse peered at my hands, with his scared eyebrow raised slightly in a respectfully curious manner.

"That's peculiar."

"What's pecu—oh, crap."

Because right then, at that very moment, a glistening ghostly spectator figure appeared behind Jesse.

Joan.

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Again, I sincerely apologize for this chapter being long and I hope you have enjoyed it (as I made it extra long in hopes that you will all find it in your big ol' hearts to forgive my tardy update).

And I had extra special fun creating this chapter because it has a lot of inside jokes that most people probably won't get except for me but whatever. Don't mind me.

Review, please?