Here is chappie eight! Woot! lol. I wanted so badly so many times to make reference to the Sixth Sense, but somehow, I don't think they quite knew about movies and Bruce Willis in good ole' 1850's California. Gah, I have to keep reminding myself to keep all modern day slang and terms out of the story. It's so, so hard, lol, but I'll cope. I just wanted to get this chapter up before the weekend because I know that if I don't, my next update won't be till like Wednesday or Thursday, and I like updating quickly for you guys. My way of saying thanks! Ya know, for, like reading this and all. I was having a bit of writer's block, not knowing what I wanted to do. And then, I just started typing, and this chapter formed. Go me!

Now, ya'll didn't really think I'd kill Jesse? Pfft, I even said so at the end of the last chappie, so relax, ladies, Jesse's still alive. It'd be suicide to kill Jesse off. I don't think I could handle thatlittle issue coming into the story... So there'll still be little Jessiekins in the story. No fear!

My special reviewees this time around are: Sunshine418, Mrs. Nikki Slater, Chisakami Saiyuki, Little TinkerBell Girl, JessesLatinaQuerida, and tucker529, as well as some anonymous reviewers, thankies so very much! Love ya'll!

Enjoy….. before I forget-Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns the characters and the Mediator in general, this is simply my twist on her existing work. Paul, yeah, he ain't mine, nor Suze, nor Jesse.

Again, enjoy!

Chapter 8

Here With Me

My heart sank and my stomach tightened. For reasons that I am sure are justifiable, I thought Jesse had returned as a ghost. It's not as if he wouldn't know to come to me seeing as he does know my secret. So I panicked… if Jesse wasn't here on this earth anymore, then what else would be left for me?

Shaking violently I managed to turn on trembling legs, and thank God that Jesse did not have that glow surrounding him. I do not know what I would have done if Jesse would be glowing. Whatever it is, it would not be a sight to see.

"Jesse!" I squealed, relieved.

The perplexed expression on his face indicated that he did not know what was happening to him. His eyes scanned every last inch of his body, searching for an answer as to why e is here. Something I would like to know as well. "Susannah? Que-What happened? Why am I here?" When he stopped checking himself-possibly for a glow-he then went to take in his surroundings-my room. The room my mother decided would look absolutely adorable if upholstered in pink. My cheeks flamed, I could feel it. Maybe Jesse wouldn't notice the pink… and if he did, well I can imagine that my cheeks were about the same color. "Is this your room?" The discomfort rang freely in his voice.

"Uh, ye-this… my room." That was absolutely intelligible. I cleared my throat, my cheeks burning. "Yes, this would be my room. How exactly did you get in? My door was not open, was it?"

The confusion deepened on his face, and his eyebrows furrowed, his chin cupped in his hand as he thought. "You mean you do not know how I got here?"

"Not the slightest idea."

He leaned against the bedpost located behind him, and as his shoulder made contact he winced. My eyes shifted to the source of pain and I could see the sling that suspended his arm in front of him, the white material stained just slightly with something red… blood. His blood. "Are you okay?" I asked, indicating to him arm.

His head nodded in response, though he seemed distant, probably hadn't even heard me. "How did I get here?" He muttered more to himself than to me.

I too wanted to know how he had gotten in my room. Not that I minded. No, quite the contrary. But it was still unnerving to have someone you cared for deeply show up in your all of a sudden. No explanation.

"What were you doing before… you showed up in my room?"

"I had been sleeping. That's the last I remember. So when I found myself here, I thought I… I'd passed." The sudden sadness laced his voice, and I could see why he would be distraught. Thinking yourself dead, I imagine would not be a pleasant feeling.

"That still does not explain why you would suddenly appear in my room," I stated, trying to think of any logical explanation as to why Jesse would have shown up in my room.

He looked down at the ground, and his cheeks were flushed just the slightest bit, "Before I fell asleep," he started, his voice low, "I was thinking of you, Susannah." My heart pumped that much faster when he disclosed this information with me.

The initial distance that had separated us when he first I arrived, I noticed had decreased. We were no more than two feet away now, and I could feel myself swaying a little closer.

Every time I found myself within the presence of Jesse, I wanted to do nothing but wrap my arms around him, to be close to him.

"So," I let my voice trail off a little, "You were thinking of me?" Jesse's hand clutched my elbow and he pulled me into him, wrapping his good arm around me.

"I was so scared, querida, in the barn, he just came out of nowhere, and when I'd finally managed to get rid of him, I couldn't help but think how easily my life had almost ended, and I never would have had the chance to tell those I care about how I feel about them." His face was buried deep within my hair which started to become moistened. I realized Jesse was crying, whether he wanted to let me see or not was for him to decide. I wrapped my arms strongly around him, careful so as not to hurt his shoulder any further.

"Jesse," was my breathy reply, barely audible.

"Susannah, I want you to know more than anyone else that I really, really care about you. More than words can express. I knew it all those years ago, and I know it now. I want you to know, too. If I could, I would do anything for you, but it is not my job. It will be Paul's once the two of you have at last married. Want it or not, Susannah, it is inevitable. You simply can not get out of it," His soft lips came to my forehead, and they rested there for long, sweet seconds. When his lips left my forehead, he added, "That is, unless he has a secret lover who he sends to attempt and murder you," his lips had risen into a genuine smile, and he looked caringly into my eyes, trying to lighten the mood.

"Or maybe," I added, "I'll be the one to send his murderer." Jesse smiled again, and his embrace tightened.

He had, in a sense, just said that he loved me. Or love could be too strong a word for it, but he definitely cared for me in the way I cared for him. It was mutual, what ever it is we have going on. But why, I wondered to myself, can I not tell him how I feel?

Truth be told, I would give anything for Paul to just die, a cruel thought, indeed, but if it happened, then all my problems would be solved and Paul would no longer be an issue. Of course, though I could never be as cruel as to actually order someone to murder someone else, even if the someone else in question is none other than Paul Slater.

"Wait… secret lover?" I asked, at last registering the words he'd spoken before my last reply. Was that why Maria had sent that Felix man to kill him? The newspaper had said nothing about why Maria had sent for Felix Diego to come after Jesse.

"Yes, querida, secret lover. Felix Diego and Maria had been having relations far before our marriage was arranged."

My head nuzzled into his chest, "Jesse, I am so sorry…" I couldn't think of anything else to say, and this just sounded right.

"For what? Susannah, you have done nothing to offend me."

"I know… but I'm sorry this happened. To you," I put emphasis on the last word, incredulous that someone could be so, so cruel to someone as sweet and caring as Jesse.

A light chuckle resonated through his chest, "Oh Susannah, don't be ridiculous. I could, after all be dead," I know he'd meant to say in a joking, off-handed way, but I could sense the fear hidden in his tone. He really did believe he would've died.

For a split second, I allowed myself to ponder the thought of Jesse as a ghost, that is, if he were to return as a ghost. He would return as a ghost, and he would watch those he knows and love grow old without him. Something, unbeknownst to him would hold him back, and he would have to watch the people he loves die, eventually. He would probably spend the next few years of his, or rather, his after-life, wandering around the Carmel hills, waiting for that day when he finally realizes what is holding him back. But what if he came to this conclusion to late, and he was condemned to live on this planet for all of eternity? One hundred fifty years from now, if he had died, would he still be here?

I pushed the thoughts from my head as quick as they had come. The point is, what would happen if he had died? I can never know, no one, really. The only other person I have known personally who died was my father. But other than him, all those other souls who have returned, I helped them with their problems and just like that, they were gone, forgotten.

And I realize now, that I could never just help and forget Jesse. It was not that simple. I fear the day my father finally realizes what is holding him on this plane of existence, and losing him second time will be so much harder than the first. Because it will be final then, and I will never see him again.

Maybe this is my true curse in being able to see the dead. As if having to deal with them on a regular basis was not enough, I also have to deal with the spirits of the people I love. Losing someone, I know is never easy. But I am always hopeful that they will return. Like with my father. But when he did return, I was afraid, because I realized he would eventually return. I'd been frightened the first time around, because he had not shown for weeks, and one day, as if no time had passed, he returned. By then, I'd grown accustomed to life without my father, so that night I cried just as hard as I had the first day I realized he was dead.

He was still here after being gone for so long. He was here with me, still; after everything he'd gone through. I think, deep inside I am the reason my father is still here on this earth. He is here for me, to watch over his little girl.

That's how ghosts are. They're just there, even after they have gone. They are here with me, because I can see them, and Paul and Jesse, too, I suppose.

However, if it were not for my father, I would not know why I have this ability. I suppose I still don't, but he did help with explaining it, and telling me it was a calling from God, to help lost souls. That is a nice way of seeing it, if one does not know the burdens that come with the ability.

I pondered all of this and more as Jesse held me in his arms-well, his arm-and I felt like never letting go. He's the only other person that knows about my ability other than Paul. It does not bother that he holds this knowledge either, because I know he would never dare to use it against me. Not like a certain someone I know. A someone I truly wish did not know. But I'd been young and stupid and had allowed myself to get caught by that someone to justify his deep-rooted accusations. At that time, though I hadn't sought Paul as a threat, and I'd purposely allowed for Paul seeing me dealing with a ghost. I too, had thought he could see ghosts. He discovered my ability, yes, but in doing so, he'd revealed that he too could see the ghosts that so terribly haunted me as a child-in so many more ways than one.

None of this, however, answered the one thing I wanted to know: How had Jesse appeared in my bedroom?

I recalled once, a long time ago, that Paul had explained that we-Mediators, he called us-had many more abilities other than communicating with spirits. I tried to surge my memory to recall what exactly he had said, but I could not remember the abilities he had told me about. God knows I had never been interested with this ability of mine, so when Paul attempted to educate me about our ability, I had blatantly ignored him.

"Querida," Jesse at last interrupted the comforting silence shrouding us. He broke away from our embrace and locked his eyes with mine, "I just wanted you to know that I care about you. A lot." And just like he had come, he left, leaving me feel rather confused.

Then I remembered: If you desired something that your conscious could detect, then it would lead you there. I don't understand how exactly it works, but Paul had called this… astral projection?

-888-

I'm sorry for the crappy ending. I really don't like those last two paragraphs, but I'm all typed out and it's of satisfactory length, so I just wanted to end it there. I'm sorry, my laziness empowers me sometimes. If it's a crappy ending, you can go ahead and tell me.

I'll update hopefully by next Thursday or Friday, possibly earlier. Who really knows.

Read and review, please! Your kind words really inspire me to continue.