Hello again. Thank you so much to my reviewers!

Thanks to: Strawberry-Shortcake01, Bananana, Mrs. Nikki Slater, DARKrosePRINCESS, Ravenscall, smgirl, jessdarkwater, dragonfly, Ivory Nightshade, Aelitagurl, Monkey sox roc, Sunshine418, Querida23, Eternal Immortality

A Neverending Story

Chapter Seven- Fire Time

An hour later, I sat on the rigid, wooden bench located in the courtyard of the mission. The wood was rough and hard, clearly not meant to be all that comfortable. But I didn't want to be comfortable. I didn't deserve to be comfortable. I felt so ashamed of myself.

For what, you ask? Well, first of all, I am a ghost. But I fell in love with someone who is alive. I suppose that wouldn't be all that bad…my only problem would be my unrequited love.

But then I had gone and KISSED HIM. This had complicated the situation a bit.

The kiss just kept playing over in my mind, again and again. I remembered how his lips felt on mine, so smooth and soft…

But I'm getting off track. What I need to be focusing on at the moment was what I could do to right the situation again.

Last night, at first I was sure Jesse had been awake. When he opened his eyes, he looked alert and attentive, but now that I look back on it, how could I be sure that he wasn't just sleep talking? I couldn't, really. Maybe, I thought, he doesn't remember any of it.

Though I hoped this, I doubted that it would be true. There was no doubt in my mind that Jesse had been completely awake, wondering what the hell I was doing. He probably was going to refuse to talk to me the next time he saw me, or at least be very weirded out by my strange actions. What was I thinking, kissing him like that? Was I hoping for him to like me? Well, I could say goodbye to that hopeful thought. There is no way that Jesse would ever go for someone like me…someone who is a ghost.

So why had I kissed him? The truth is, I don't know. I wanted to know what it would be like to feel, after all that time that I hadn't felt anything but loneliness. I wanted to experience something different from what I had been feeling for 150 years. But, most of all, I kissed Jesse because, as pathetic as it may seem, I love him.

The sky lightened, and soon people started to mill around the courtyard of the mission. I stared, not really seeing, at the fountain bubbling soothingly in the center of the terrace. My eyelids slowly started to get heavier, and I leaned my head back against the wood of the bench. Suddenly, it didn't seem so uncomfortable. In fact, I felt rather warm and relaxed, and letting go of my worries seemed like a wonderful idea at the moment. I took one last glance at the people standing around me and was soon in a deep sleep.

You see, ghosts can sleep, though they don't need to. The same goes for eating and drinking—but I rarely find occasion to do so. I had barely slept in all of my time being dead, but the few times that I did, I was completely exhausted. Today, however, my sleep wasn't from exhaustion, but more that I wanted to escape the thoughts that tormented me…the thoughts of Jesse.

My cat was constantly being called ugly. Either by the neighborhood boys, or even my own mother, he was frequently laughed at and teased. No one but me would even dare to look at Spike without cringing. The cat, I had to admit, was repulsive—but somehow I found comfort in his shaggy, lopsided frame. Each morning, I woke up to his deafening purring. Some mornings, more often than most, Spike was actually on top of my head, stretched out over the pillows of my bed.

This morning appeared to be no different than the rest. There was a furry, purring object near my head, rubbing against me, and the routine of it all made me smile in my sleep.

"Spike," I mumbled, "I'm glad to see you this morning." Spike stopped rubbing against me, and I wondered why. I opened my eyes to see what was wrong.

And I screamed.

The thing that was rubbing my head wasn't purring, nor was it furry at all. The thing---or hand, actually—belonged to none other than the man with the icy blue eyes that I had encountered yesterday. He looked someone surprised at my sudden outburst, but chose not to say anything. I stared at him in disbelief.

"Wha-what are you doing?" I demanded to know.

His astonishment soon turned to amusement as he smiled chillily at me.

"I believe that I was just giving you a head massage, but it appears that you thought I happened to be someone named Spike," he said bluntly. His voice was deep and smooth, and had a confident air to it. I stared, misbelieving, at him.

I blushed a shade of deep crimson at his comment. "Spike happens to be my cat," I stated, just to clarify things, "but that doesn't explain why you were petting me."

He snorted. "A sense of humor. I like that in a woman." I glared at him.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? Like in class, maybe? I take it you go to this school," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant and collected as he did.

"What, this place?" he gestured to the surroundings. "Well, I go to school here. But I don't exactly go here, if you know what I mean."

I continued to glare at him. Something about him, maybe his chilling demeanor, or maybe his unfazed behavior, disoriented me a little. I did not like this man one bit, and when I don't like someone, I see no point in treating them as if I do. That would a lie, wouldn't it? And who likes liars?

We stared at each other for a few moments. It was almost as though we were having a staring contest, and I didn't want to be the one to lose.

Eventually, I looked away, disappointed that I had to be the one to end it. His piercing blue eyes were too much to handle.

"Alright, spit it out. What do you want?" I asked rudely.

"Do I have to have a reason for wanting to have a chat with a beautiful girl?"

I was unfazed with his compliment. In fact, it only served to make me even madder. I was getting dangerously close to punching this guy in the nose. I tightened my hand into a fist.

"Look. I don't have time for this—" I started to draw back my arm, ready to smack him.

"Okay, okay, sheesh," he said holding out his hands at seeing my balled fist. "Actually, I came here to warn you." His blue eyes clouded over, and he looked towards the fountain again.

"Warn me about what?" I asked, suddenly curious, yet still a little cynical.

"About…Jesse. You know, your new roommate? He's dangerous. Don't trust him."

I snorted. "Do you really think I'm going to believe you? You, who I woke up to not five minutes ago, with your hand on my head? Yeah right."

"Look," he started, looking annoyed, "I know you're probably not going to believe me. But just consider it. He might seem to have all the looks, all the charm, but he's not what he seems. And between you and me, he's done some pretty bad stuff. So I'm just warning you."

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said sarcastically, "I'm sure he's done some terrible things."

"Just consider it," he said, his voice pleading. And with that, he disappeared, leaving me shocked and in awe.

Two thoughts were racing through my mind right then. What kind of bad things could Jesse possibly do to me, or had done in the past? This guy had to be crazy. But still I wondered….what was his connection to Jesse? Even if he had any idea of what he was talking about, why would he want to help me? It all comes down to this: I'm dead, he's alive. Even though he's a mediator (yes, I'd figured that out by then), why was he so set on protecting me? Helping me get to the other side, yes, but protecting me? What's the point in that? I really didn't have anything to lose by getting hurt.

Thought number two was something along the lines of "WHO IS THIS GUY?" I mean, he was clearly alive. After all, there was no spectral aura surrounding him that all ghosts had. If this was true, if he was alive, then how could he disappear like that? It was all so much to handle.

While I was pondering all this, I heard someone call my name. Knowing it could only be Jesse, I turned bright red. Why was I even at the Mission, where Jesse could find me with practically no effort? I was still definitely NOT ready to see him, after what happened. Just when I was about to dematerialize to avoid further conversation, I felt a rough, calloused hand grab onto my arm. I looked up, and saw Jesse holding on to me with an irritated, yet playful look on his face.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, smiling slightly, "Not this time."

I gave him what I hoped to be a very pleading and convincing look. "But, Jesse," I said in a sugary, innocent voice, "I have an appointment to play poker with some of the other dead folks up there," I said sarcastically, while pointing towards the sky. I kept a straight face.

"Susannah," Jesse said sternly, "we need to talk."

I opened my mouth, but then closed it again, not sure of what to say. Suddenly, I heard giggling behind me. Jesse immediately released my arm.

"Jesse! I was wondering where you were, you silly, when you didn't call last night. You walked out so fast; I didn't know what was wrong!" Kelly, the girl from the night before, stood dangerously close to Jesse. I noticed that she had a group of girls positioned off to the side of her, pretending to be deep in conversation with each other but really clinging to every word that Jesse said.

"Better not stand too close to her, Jesse," I said sarcastically, referring to Kelly's near proximity, "Or you'll die from the toxic fumes of too much perfume." I knew that Kelly and her followers couldn't hear me, but Jesse could. He rolled his eyes at me.

"Or maybe it wouldn't be that bad if you died, too," I continued on, under my breath, ignoring his warnings, "then maybe we could haunt this planet together. It wouldn't be so bad, you know, having a companion. I get lonely sometimes," I rambled on, not making much sense. I was saying this all in a joking manner, but really, it was partially true. Not that I wanted Jesse to die, but that I got lonely sometimes.

Kelly was still looking up expectantly at Jesse, waiting for him to reply to her comment, but he wasn't looking at either me or her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on a small stone statue in one corner of the courtyard. He seemed to be staring at it, but not really seeing it, something that I realize I do quite often. I wondered what he was thinking about.

"Hello? Earth to Jesse?" Kelly waved a hand of perfectly manicured nails in front of Jesse's face. Immediatley he blinked and looked at her.

"Er…yeah. Uh, Kelly, if you'd excuse me, I have something to do," Jesse said, and then walked away, shooting a significant look, which I didn't know the meaning of, at me. I thought that maybe it meant that I was supposed to follow him, but frankly, I still didn't want to talk to him…at least not about "the kiss."

In fact, I really did want to talk to him, but instead about the blue eyed stranger I kept thinking of. I had seen him two times already, yet I still didn't know his name. You'd think that I would have simply asked him his name, but the time never seemed to come up. I had been so wrapped up in what he was talking about that I forgot to ask him something as basic as his name. I sighed. The afterlife was really starting to get complicated.

I decided to follow Jesse, just for the fun of it. It's not like I had anything better to do. He seemed a little distraught when he had excused himself before from talking to Kelly.

I found him walking at a rather fast pace down one of the old hallways at the Mission, his hand running absently through his clean, crisp hair. He was deep in thought, so he didn't notice my presence.

He stopped in front of a worn, wooden door, and knocked lightly.

"Come on in," a muffled voice said from the other side of the door. Jesse carefully opened the door and nodded in acknowledgement at the woman sitting at a desk in the middle of the room. She had even, white teeth, and a clean business suit, causing me to believe that she was a secretary of some sort. She smiled when Jesse (and me, though she didn't notice my presence) entered the room.

"Why, hello, Mr. De Silva. Haven't seen you around here for awhile! You've been keeping out of trouble, I suppose?" the woman said in an attempt at conversation.

Jesse nodded again politely. "Yes, I have. Is Father Dominic in? I was hoping to have a word with him."

The secretary, still smiling, pointed towards another door on the left of her. "Yes, he is. Nice to see you, Mr. De Silva."

Jesse crossed the room and knocked again on a small wooden, door, which had the word "principal" printed across it in blocky, bold letters. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Of course, I followed him in. I have to admit that I have gotten pretty good at following people, so I know all of the tricks of the trade, one of which included staying invisible. In fact, I followed Jesse around without him noticing so often that one might even go as far as to consider me a stalker…but I prefer not to think about that.

Jesse sat down in what looked to be a comfortable chair across from an aging, blue eyed man. I recognized him at once to be the priest called Father Dominic, a fellow mediator. I wondered what Jesse had to talk to him about.

"Oh, hello, Jesse. How are you? How are things with…you know?" He seemed to be referring to Jesse's ghost life. Jesse sighed.

"Actually, Father, that's what I came to talk to you about," Jesse said, looking at his feet.

Father Dominic looked concerned at once. "Is it about Heather? I thought we had taken care of her, but she was a rather…angry ghost, wasn't she? Did she return? Or is it someone new?"

Jesse continued to stare at his feet. "Well, father, it's not about Heather, I assure you that I've taken care of her. No, it's nothing like that…nothing dangerous." He looked slightly nervous. Father Dominic peered out expectantly at Jesse from behind his spectacles.

"In any case," Jesse continued, "do you remember the ghost of a girl that I told you about awhile back? The one who sort of…lives in my room?" My breath, or what might be called the "ghost" of my breath, stopped short. I realized that Jesse had to be talking about me. The priest nodded, urging Jesse to go on, though didn't seem too pleased with the prospect of Jesse "living" with a girl ghost.

Jesse glanced back at Father Dominic, looking somewhat flustered. "You see," he said, "something…well…happened. Something that--"

Only Jesse didn't get to finish what he had been trying to say, because he was suddenly cut off by the earsplitting, deafening noise of a fire alarm. Both Father Dominic immediately put their hands to their ears, trying to desperately block out the piercing noise that cut through the serene peacefulness of the Mission like knives. Students came rushing out of their classrooms, yelling over the noise. Teachers were frantically trying to herd the students outside to a safety zone, in case there really was a fire. The students seemed to think it was all a fire drill to test their evacuation skills, but the teachers looked more worried. After all, no fire drill had been scheduled. No one could be sure, just then, if there was a real fire or not.

No one except for me. Because I had pulled the fire alarm, of course.

Hey, don't look at me like that. I wasn't trying to give anybody a heart attack; I just wanted to keep Jesse from telling the priest whatever he was about to tell him. And, judging by the look on Jesse's face at the time, what he was going to tell Father Dominic wasn't what I wanted to hear. So I panicked, alright? The fire alarm idea was the best I could come up with. Eventually, they would figure out that it was all a hoax and they would go back to their normal schedules. No biggie, right?

With my hands over my ears, I dematerialized. I don't know if ghosts can go deaf, but that fire alarm sure seemed like it was loud enough to cause such things. For a place that was built so long ago, it sure seemed to have a top notch fire safety system.

Anyway, I decided to take this opportunity to back to Jesse's room, since I would definitely be avoiding it when he actually got home from school and had the chance to talk to me. The afternoon sunlight poured in through the windows, seeping through the dusty blue curtains that didn't do much to keep to sun out. Clothes littered the floor and the bed was messy and unmade. The desk was covered with crumpled papers and eraser shavings, and the wastebasket was practically overflowing with trash. Jesse normally kept his room fairly clean, but today seemed to be an exception. I sighed, but walked over to his desk and picked up the shirt that was draped over the back of his chair. It didn't smell dirty, but it didn't smell clean, either. It had a scent that smelled familiarly like something I couldn't put my finger on…

Jesse. That's what it smelled like. He had a scent that I could probably recognize anywhere, a mixture of soap and something I couldn't put my finger on. It smelled like…well, it smelled like Jesse. A man's scent, clean and strong, one that varies for each individual. Each person has their own scent, a smell that sets them apart from the rest…

Tears started welling up in my eyes on that thought. It seemed to be silly to be crying over something as simple as a shirt, or the scent of a shirt, but nonetheless, there I was, bawling my eyes out. That's the difference between Jesse and I, I thought, tears silently escaping from my eyes. He has a scent. But I don't. That's the difference. He's alive, and I am not.

It would never work out between us, no matter how hard I prayed. Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why? He could never, ever love a ghost, no matter how hard I tried to make it happen. He would never return my feelings. And even if he did, what would I do when he grew up? I would be stuck in a sixteen year old girl's body, while he would continue to age. It would never work out.

I continued to cry, my tears cascading down my cheeks and dropping onto my lap. I wiped my eyes on Jesse's shirt, careful not to get too much snot on it. (Even in my troubled state, I wasn't about to just be all gross.) I sunk to the floor, my skirt poofing up around me as I sat.

I sat that way for who knows how long, before I had a sickening sensation in my stomach, one that could only mean that someone besides me was in the room. Cautiously and slowly, I looked up, remembering to wipe my eyes to at least look somewhat presentable. I dragged my eyes up off the floor, onto a pair of shiny, black boots, and up even farther to a pair of tight fitting pants. My gaze climbed higher still as I looked over a pair of nicely toned, muscular arms, and finally my eyes met, once again, the iciest, bluest eyes I had ever seen.

"Crying over a shirt, now, are we?" the man said. I stared at him, at a loss for words, which always seemed to happen when I was around him. My mouth gaped open, and I felt a bit like a fish.

Finally, I was able to string a sentence together. "Who are you?"

His lips curled into a smile, and I held my breath, waiting for the answer I was longing to hear. He opened his mouth, licked his lips, and then—

"Paul. Paul Slater."

So how do you like it? I tried to make it a little longer, but sadly, it didn't work. Ah, oh well. Please review :)

P.S...Oh yeah, I was just wondering. What do AU and OCC stand for? I feel a little stupid asking that, but I've been trying to figure that out, and...yeah.