A/N: Let it be known: I don't like this chapter. I haven't even written yet (at the time when I was writing this A/N, anyway) and I don't like it. Lol. I can't help it. I'm just getting this chapter over with. XD Sorry. And might be long to boot. And while writing part of this chapter Garth Brooks' "The Thunder Rolls" was playing. Hehe, seems almost fitting, sort of. Well, it did at the time it was playing, anyway.

Chapter 4

Past:

The closer the exams came, the more time Jesse had to spend in the library, swamped with books and notes. If he wasn't in class or work, he was in the library. He felt a little guilty, being away from Susannah so much, but he didn't have much of a choice. He assured himself that there would be more time to spend together after it was all over.

If he didn't pass out from exhaustion before than, of course.

While he was studying, he was worrying. About Paul, mostly. Jesse had learned long ago that, where Paul was concerned, it was best to be weary. And on this night, Paul seemed hell-bent on proving him right.

"Hello, Jesse," Paul drawled, as he slid into the seat across from him.

Jesse tried to ignore him. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he reasoned, Paul would go away. Luck, apparently, was not with him. Finally, he sighed. "What do you want, Paul?"

Paul grinned. "I wanted to show you something I thought you might find interesting." He leaned down and reached into the bag he'd dropped next to his chair. When he straightened, he was holding something red in his hand. When Jesse leaned closer, he realized it was a crystal—and glowing faintly.

"What is that?"

Paul gave it a little toss in his palm. "You know, Jesse, there are some very unusual things that we—shifters, I mean—can do, that other people might think in possible." He smiled. "I think you're familiar with most of them. But given the right tools…" he tossed the crystal again. "We could even try our hand at mind control." He tilted his head to the side, looking almost innocent—a façade, of course. "Think Suze might be interested in that."

Jesse felt something tighten in his gut. "That's not possible."

Paul shrugged. "Maybe not. Worth a shot, though, don't you think? To see if it works?"

Jesse didn't respond. He didn't know want to know what sorts of things went through Paul Slater's head. Nonetheless, his eyes kept going back to Paul's bag, where he had deposited the crystal.

Later, Jesse would wonder if he would have still done the same thing if he had known what would happen afterward—the way it would ruin his and Susannah's life, and Paul's, too, though no one could possibly foresee that then.

He couldn't have known any of that then. If he had, maybe he wouldn't have taken the crystal from Paul's bag while Paul was looking for a book, and put it in his own pocket, just to be safe. Maybe.

A/N: You know, that didn't seem believable to me, at all. Gah. Sorry. Told you I hate this chapter, didn't I?

Jesse couldn't remember when he thought about it later what exactly they were arguing about the night that it happened. It might have been the normal kind of arguing couples were prone to have when they were just starting out. Or it might have been something serious—he'd never know.

Whatever it was, the only thing that Jesse could remember later was the image of Susannah's face, red with anger, and his just as flushed, and the crystal he'd stolen from Paul weighing heavily in the pocket of his jeans. All he could remember thinking was I wish I could just make her stop. He couldn't remember what he wanted her to stop—stop arguing? Stop whatever it was they were arguing about? But in that moment, her face changed. The color drained from her face, and her eyes went completely blank—no emotion showed in them at all.

"Jesse?"

The anger in her voice was gone, it sounded like it always did—when she wasn't mad at him, anyway.

Jesse just stared at her for a long moment. What was she—then something clicked in his head. "Nombre de Dios," he muttered, turning on his heel and leaving her, standing there in their living room.

He stood out on the balcony outside their bedroom, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. What was he doing? He pulled the crystal out of his pocket and stared at it. He wasn't going crazy, he decided. There was no way…

Glancing over his shoulder into the apartment, Jesse grimaced. There wasn't exactly much of a plausible explanation for what had happened. Turning back to look out, Jesse nearly threw the crystal as hard as he could. He didn't want it. He felt low and horrible, just holding it. He even held his arm back to let it fly, but in the end, something made him drop it back in his pocket. He would regret it later, of course. Hell, he regretted it already.

When he finally made his way back inside, Susannah was in the kitchen, starting dinner. On the rare nights he was home for dinner these days, they usually split up the duties in the kitchen. Tonight, she was putting a pan on the stove, and getting chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. She looked up when he came in, but didn't say anything right away.

He washed his hands at the sink and went to help her. After a long moment, he put his arms around her waist and leaned his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her scent deeply. He sighed.

She leaned against him, turning her head to see his face. "Are you okay?"

Jesse nodded. He hadn't told Susannah about the crystal. He probably should, he knew, but after what had just happened… he was reluctant to tell her. His own guilt would be enough to deal with.

Present:

They thought I was insane.

I lay there, curled up at the edge of my bed, staring at the wall across from me. The doctor—Jesse, he said his name was?—thought so, too, though he was a lot kinder about it, and he at least never said so in my hearing.

Closing my eyes, I could picture the scene from earlier. They didn't understand. And I couldn't make them. I didn't even trust myself. I couldn't even tell if I'd ever trusted myself.

Jesse was walking down the hallway that night, on his way to check on Susannah before he started his nightly rounds. It was his routine these days. He saw her in the mornings when he came in, he saw her again during lunch, he checked on her before his last rounds at night, and then, usually when she had already fallen asleep, he slipped into her room and stayed with her while she slept.

As he made his way toward Susannah's room, he suddenly heard weeping. He stopped, back tracked until he was in front of a door to an empty hospital room. Well, it was supposed to be empty, at least. At the moment, a young girl, probably only five or six, was sitting on the bed, crying.

To make matters worse, she was obviously dead.

Jesse went into the room, sitting on the bed beside the little girl. He pushed the hair out of her face, saying in his softest, most soothing voice, "What's wrong, querida?"

The little girl looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Jesse felt something tighten in his chest. She was so young…

She sniffed miserably. "I didn't want to upset her," she whispered.

Jesse blinked. "What?"

"I didn't want to make her scream," she clarified, sniffing again. "I just wanted her to help me."

Jesse closed his eyes. Things were starting to make more sense to him, now. He held the little girl close, trying to reassure her that everything was all right, that Susannah would be fine.

And for the first time in a very long time, Jesse was starting to believe it.