Disclaimer: yes i DO own these characters, i AM Meg Cabot, and that IS a pig flying past your window!
okay, i've been toying with this idea for a while now, and basicly what it is is Jesse watching Suze during her nightmares. the biginning isn't so good, but i like to think it gets better, lol!
kinda dramatic.
please don't forget to review!
I sit in the window seat, watching her sleep. She is so beautiful, lying there in the moonlight, with her long, dark hair falling over her face, covering those exquisite, strong-willed features. Peaceful for once.
Then it begins.
Again.
For three nights now it has been happening.
And there is nothing I can do.
Nothing.
I can't even wake her. I have tried. Tried desperately. And failed.
I can't protect her from her nightmares.
I can't protect her.
I am helpless.
Down on her bed, Susannah tosses and turns. Her breathing quickens. In her face, that beautiful face I love more than anything that ever was, I see fear. Tears trickle slowly down her soft, pale cheeks, as she gasps frantically.
I leave the window seat in dread. I want to help her, to show her it is just a dream, but I can't. I cannot go inside her head. I cannot save her from her dreams.
I take her hand, holding it tight, stroking her fingers. Murmuring softly, desperately, to her. My poor querida.
She quiets. Her breathing calms, and she relaxes, smiles. I take out Maria's handkerchief and carefully wipe the tears from her cheeks, and the sweat from her brow. It is all I can do.
"It will be all right, querida. Don't worry."
She begins fidgeting again. I grasp her hand tighter.
"I'm here, Susannah, don't worry. Sleep."
But it doesn't work. I can see the panic rising in her face once more. Agony clutches at my heart.
"Susannah! It's all right! Don't worry!"
And now fear has turned to terror in her face, a naked horror that makes me want to scoop her up and hold her tight.
To protect her.
To make her happy again.
To love her.
Hope dawns in her expression. She gasps, a panicked, relieved smile forming on her soft, red lips.
Then she gasps again, but not in hope this time. In horror.
"Paul! No!"
"Susannah!"
She whimpers, clutching at the sheets. I reach down and put my arms around her, holding her close. She is shaking. I feel tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, and hastily blink them away.
She cries out. I kiss her hair, shushing her. I am also shaking now.
If I ever catch that—that…if I ever catch Him I swear—Iswear!—I will make him wish that he was never even born for what he did to her! For what he has done to her!
She is still now, but I am afraid to leave her. Afraid that she will dream again. I don't want her to be scared. Or hurt.
But there is nothing I can do for her. I cannot protect her. I cannot love her. Even though I want to.
You're dead, De Silva, so forget it! I tell myself angrily, What can you give her? Nothing! Worse than nothing, you could hurt her! You never should have kissed her! She almost died for you, and how do you repay her? You kiss her! She deserves better than you De Silva, and you know it! She deserves far better than a ghost!
What is worse is that she kissed me back. She melted into me, and kissed me back, and made me feel as though I was alive. But I'm not. And now, when I move on, it will be harder for her. It will hurt her. And it's all my fault.
As bad as Slater! I berate myself. No, worse than Slater! Just because I was a selfish fool! A dead selfish fool!
I should leave right now. I should go, and never come back. For her sake. She deserves better than anything I can offer her, which is, to put it plainly, nothing.
I should leave.
But I can't.
I look at her face, calm now, and serene, and I know that I couldn't bear to leave her, couldn't bear to be parted from her.
Because I love her.
Because I love her.