A/N: Finally at this part. Now the story can move faster, lol.

And I find it odd that I now have more reviews on this story than I have on "I'll Be Watching You" which has more chapters. O.o Hell, every chapter's had more reviews than the whole of "Another Haunted." Lol.

I feel loved. lol

Chapter 5

Past:

Over the years, I've gotten used to being woken up in the middle of the night. Ghosts, for some reason, have feel the need to come to me in the middle of the night.

This night, I woke up to loud crash. I blinked, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was after midnight. I was home alone again—for the last night, thank God, exams were over and Jesse would be home soon from celebrating with Joe.

I crawled off the bed, grabbing my robe from the chair where I'd dropped it earlier. Putting it on, I made my way to the door and poked my head into the room, squinting to see in dim room. "Jesse?" I called. "Is that you?"

Before my eyes could adjust enough to see, someone grabbed me and pulled hard against them, they're hand clamping over my mouth. I acted instinctively, kicking out and trying to get away enough that I could fight him off.

I barely got away from him before something hard hit me against the back of my head. And then everything went black.

Jesse stumbled into the apartment, bogged down by exhaustion and the one celebratory beer he'd had with Joe—normally a perfectly safe amount for him to drink, but only served to make him feel worse. Weeks of little sleep was not the way to go, he decided.

Normally when he came home late, he didn't turn on the light, because he didn't want to disturb Susannah. Under normal circumstances, he could get from the door to the bedroom without making much noise.

Tonight would not be one of those nights.

He only made it a couple feet before he ran into something—something hard—that definitely should not have been there. Biting off a curse, Jesse leaned down to rub his aching shin with one hand and batted at the light switch with the other. When he finally managed to turn on the light, he saw the reason he had knocked into something.

"Nombre de Dios," he whispered, staring at his devastated living room. The coffee table—what he had walked into—had been knocked on it's side, the couch had been torn apart, the cushions laying strewn around the room. The drawers of the desk against one wall had been pulled out, papers scattered across the ground.

Jesse made his way through the room, calling for Susannah, and feeling panic building when she didn't answer him. When he reached the bedroom, he flicked on the light, only to find the bedroom in a similar condition. Susannah wasn't there. He looked everywhere—the spare bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom, the master bedroom again. She wasn't there.

She was gone.

I had one hell of a headache.

That was the first thing I thought when I woke up. Well, it wasn't so much waking up as prying my eyelids open. I tried to move my arms, but they'd been tied over my head, and when I tried to move my legs, I realized they'd been tied together, too.

"What the hell?" I couldn't move at all. Well, unless you counted wiggling. I threw a glance around the room, trying to figure out where I was. It looked like a prison cell, almost. Cement walls on three sides, and bars where the door should be. There wasn't a window. I could see through the bars, but I couldn't tell what I was looking at from where I was laying.

I couldn't do anything at the moment. I had to just sit there, waiting for whoever was holding me there to show himself.

He didn't keep me waiting long. Before long, I heard a lock turning—the bars were a door, something I hadn't noticed before—and in stepped, of all people, Paul Slater.

Figures.

He leaned casually in the doorway, smiling a little crookedly at me. "Hello, Suze," he said, almost conversationally. His smile grew into a grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

Seriously. That's what he said. I pulled angrily on my wrists, trying to free myself. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded, not liking how it felt to be laying there, tied up, while he was looking at me like that.

Paul straightened. "Aw, come on, Suze, you can't tell me Jesse didn't tell you." He came into the room, still looking completely casual. I don't know how he does that. "Seems to me like the sort of thing a guy tells his wife."

I stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

He stopped in front of me. "I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm talking about." He crouched down next to me, his face changing now. He didn't look so casual now. "Where is it?"

I shook my head, shifting away from him as best I could. I didn't like the look on his face. I didn't like it at all. "I told you, I don't know what you're talking about."

Paul reached out and pulled me toward him again. I stiffened. "There are two ways we can do this, Suze. The easy or the hard way. You don't want to know what the hard way is."

"I told you—"

"Where is the crystal?" he bit off.

"The what?" I stared at him. "What are you—"

I didn't see it coming. I didn't expect him to do it at all. But before I knew what was happening, Paul had drawn back his fist and hit me right below the eye.

I let out an involuntary squeak, my eyes tearing up. Oh, God. I wasn't going to cry. Not just because he hit me. It wasn't like I hadn't been hit before—God knows ghosts have hit me more times than I can count—but I hadn't expected it. And then he hit me again. And again. It didn't matter that I kept trying to tell him I didn't know anything—I'm even sure he was listening.

When he finally stood up, what seemed like hours later, I'd curled up into a ball, feeling suddenly very small. I winced when he reached over me to untie my wrists. I didn't move when he picked me up and put me on what I'd been tied to—a bed, it turned out. When he untied my legs, I didn't even have the energy to kick at him, that's how bad it hurt.

See, I'm not exactly a weakling, but damn it, Paul was strong. Stronger than I was, anyway.

He walked out of the cell and locked the barred door behind him. He leaned his arms on the door, and looked in at me. "I'll let you sleep on it. Maybe tomorrow you'll be ready to tell me what I want to hear." Then he disappeared.

Present:

It took a great deal of finagling on his part, but in the end, Jesse finally convinced Dr. Davis to let him take Susannah home.

Joe leaned in the doorway, watching as Jesse put Susannah's things into a suitcase. "You sure this is the right thing?"

Jesse didn't bother to look up as he folded a blouse and set it inside the suitcase. "I've never been more sure of anything, Joe."

Joe was silent for a moment, then he shrugged. "Well, as long as you're sure, I guess." He glanced at where Susannah sat near the window. Then, he looked over his shoulder out into the reception area. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well, if you don't need any help in here…" He slipped out of the room.

Jesse smiled at Susannah. "Don't mind him, querida," he said, zipping up her suitcase. "He doesn't mean most of what he says."

At that moment, Jesse heard Joe say, "Hey, Trish."

"Hello, Joe." When Jesse glanced over his shoulder, he saw Trish typing at her computer, not bothering to look at Joe, who was leaning on her desk.

"How're you doing today?"

"Fine."

"That's good to hear." He waited a beat. "Listen, Trish, I was wondering—"

"No, Joe."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

Jesse saw Trish finally turn in her chair to look at Joe. She rolled her eyes at him. "Joe, you ask me the same question every Monday. The answer's always the same."

Joe straightened. "I don't ask every Monday."

"That week you were out with the flu doesn't count."

"Aww, come on. Why won't you go out on date with me?"

"You're afraid of commitment, I don't want to date someone I work with, you're not my type. Do you need more reasons? And aren't you dating someone? What was her name? Cookie? Cupcake?"

"Candy. Her name was Candy. And we broke up."

"Uh-huh. My point exactly."

Jesse chuckled, picking up the suitcase. He moved toward Susannah, and crouched in front of her. "I'm going to be taking you home," he said softly. After a beat, he clarified, "My home." When Susannah didn't respond, he forced a smile. "You'll like it better than here, don't worry. You'll have more room—" he made a mental note to get the spare room ready for himself to sleep in. The more comfortable she was, the better, "—and you won't have to deal with all the doctors." He smiled ironically. "Well, except for me, anyway." He didn't mention yet that she would have to come back twice a week to see Dr. Davis. He decided it was too much to drop on her right then. There'd be plenty of time to tell her once she'd settled in back at the apartment. One thing at a time, he promised himself.

He straightened, motioning for her to get up, too. When that didn't work, of course, he resorted to telling her to come with him. Outside, Joe and Trish were still going at it.

Jesse led Susannah out of her room, past Joe and Trish, and toward the elevator. She would get better, he assured himself as he punched the down button. He glanced down at her. She had to.

A/N: Joe makes for decent comic relief. At least, he makes me feel better, anyway. ;) Y'all can enjoy him, if you want, but he's mostly here for my benefit. Lol.