A/N: Must avoid writing about the Present again. :-P Wish I didn't have to, I've been waiting to be able to get to this part for awhile. As someone said (sorry, I remember the review, just don't feel like going back to check who said it XD) stuff in the past is getting worse. Mostly bad for Suze, but bad for Paul, too, 'cause he sort climaxes on the evilness thing this chapter, and more or less nosedives after that. Lol.

O.o Believe it or not, I actually liked Paul at the end of Twilight. Unfortunately, I'd already begun thinking of this thing, and it was hard enough having to change things so Jesse was alive (made some things better, others worse, lol) I didn't feel like thinking up another villain. That, and after all the torture I gave him in my other fanfics, it just seemed so wrong to make him anything but evil…

And this will probably end up being long/have a lot in it. Good in a way, but hopefully it won't end up seeming rushed…

Chapter 11

Past:

Dinner that night was very tense.

I sat in Paul's chair while he leaned against the door, watching me. Jesse's arrival had left me confused and more than a little wary. I glanced up at Paul periodically, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he straightened away from the door. "You had a visitor today," he said. He wasn't asking a question, I realized. He knew Jesse had been there.

I swallowed hard, putting my plate down on the table. "Yes. Jesse came by."

Paul watched me for a long moment, smiling grimly. "Are you afraid of me, Suze?"

I shifted in my chair. "No, of course not."

Paul moved toward me, coming to stand behind the chair, his hands resting on my shoulders. I tried not to stiffen. What was wrong with me? I'd been fine around Paul before. "Good," he said. "Suze… I don't want you to see him again." His fingers moved idly, massaging my shoulder.

"But… why?"

Paul's hands tightened for a moment, then relaxed. "You remember what I said about having enemies?" When I nodded, he said, "Well, Jesse's one of them." He said it matter-of-factly, as though it concluded the issue. And maybe if he had said it yesterday, it might have. Today…

"But…"

"But what, Suze?" his voice was calm, but I could tell he was becoming impatient.

I swallowed again, wondering for a moment if he would let me go if I tried to move away from him. "He said he loved me."

Paul's grip tightened again, this time staying that way. I didn't dare look up at him to see his expression. "And do you love him, too?"

I didn't answer for a long moment. My mind felt weird, like I was trying to fight to get awake. "I-I don't know," I finally whispered, so softly I didn't think he heard for a minute.

Paul let me go, moving away from me. I sat back against the chair, closing my eyes. What was I going to do?

Maybe if I'd been paying more attention I would have been able to do something. Get away, try to block it, something. But I wasn't paying attention, and before I knew what was happening, the side of my head was exploding with pain where Paul's fist had connected with it.

Paul walked back toward the cell, carrying Suze in his arms. She'd let out a little whimper when he'd reached down to pick her up, but other than that she just clung to his neck so he wouldn't drop her.

Stupid, impulsive—did he mention stupid?—things to do: expect to be able to maintain control forever, letting his guard down just because Suze had blurted out "I love you" when she couldn't really mean it, and then bringing Jesse here—as if he wasn't going to try something, knowing where Suze was?

Paul set Suze down on her bed in the cell, pulling the sheet up to cover her. He eyed her critically for a moment. She'd have a black eye in the morning, no doubt about it. Yet another strike against him—going into a rage because of something she couldn't exactly control.

Shutting the door behind him as he left the cell, Paul perched his elbows on the bars, looking in at her. He could let her remember all that, he mused. He could ignore the need to erase that ugly episode from her mind. Let her be afraid of him. God knew she had reason to. The more time passed, the more he was beginning to scare himself.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Paul turned away from her, making his way toward the stairs.

In the morning, she wouldn't remember anything that he had done. But what he had said about Jesse—that she would remember.

Jesse approached the cell, feeling slightly better than he had yesterday. Things were looking up, he thought. If he could push Susannah a little further, maybe…

He didn't finish that thought, because when he stopped in front of the cell door, he saw Susannah sitting there again, like she had yesterday, but this time when she looked up at him she was more weary, keeping her distance.

And one of her eyes had been blackened.

"Querida," he whispered, staring at her. He wanted so badly to reach through the bars to touch her again, but she stayed out of his reach. His fault, he realized hollowly. If he hadn't come yesterday…

Was this another message from Paul? He wondered. That the more he tried to reach Susannah, the worse she would be hurt? If that was what he was trying to tell Jesse, he was making it loud and clear.

"Y-You have to go," Susannah said shakily.

Jesse felt a prickly feeling behind his eyes. He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to cry, he assured himself. Susannah was here, he needed to deal with that. "Querida," he said silkily, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Can't we talk? I'm not going to hurt you, querida, I promise." He pulled on the cell door without really thinking. The latch made a clicking sound and opened a bit. He saw Susannah's eyes widened. The door had been left unlocked? "I won't come in if you don't want me to," Jesse assured her, closing the door. "See?" Jesse stepped back. "Won't you let me in, Susannah?"

He watched as she bit her lip, eyeing him suspiciously. Finally, she came to the door and opened it, taking a step back to let Jesse in.

Jesse moved into the cell, shutting the door behind him. He reached for Susannah, pulling her into his arms before she could move away again. He half-expected her to try to get away from him, but she just leaned into him, burying her face in his chest.

Leading toward the back of the cell, Jesse sat down, pressing his back against the wall. Susannah sat between his legs, leaning against his chest.

They sat like that for a long time, with Jesse just holding Susannah for what he felt certain would be the last time. He didn't want to let her go, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to come back. It hurt worse then anything he had ever had to do, and he would certainly try to find a way around it, but the truth was, Paul had backed him into a corner—he couldn't be sure that anything he did wouldn't lead to Susannah getting hurt.

And he couldn't promise that that wouldn't happen regardless.

So he just sat there, holding Susannah for as long as he could. When she shifted uncomfortably against him—he was pressing on a painful bruise, he realized—he would move his hand, but otherwise they didn't move.

When Jesse finally left, he leaned down to kiss Susannah one last time, and backed away from the cell, keeping his gaze on her for as long as he could before he had to turn away.

Paul stood in the shadows of the room, watching as Susannah opened the cell door to let Jesse in. He'd left the door open on purpose—testing her. Giving her the chance to turn him away if that's what she meant to do.

He waited, watching the cell, feeling worse with each moment that passed. She could be trying to tell Jesse right this moment, he assured himself. Jesse would try to convince her to do otherwise, of course, Paul could hardly expect anything else. And then she would tell him he couldn't come anymore…

Paul stood there for an hour, waiting. There was still no sign of Jesse leaving. Paul closed his eyes, turning away. He didn't want to know what they were doing in there. He didn't want to think about it.

He would have to do something, he thought miserably. He would hate himself. Susannah would learn to hate him. Or fear him. Hell, they would both be painful.

Worse, he knew it wouldn't keep him from doing it.

I sat on my bed, trying to read, waiting for Paul. He wouldn't do anything when he found out, I assured myself. Maybe he'd be angry or disappointed, but he wouldn't do anything worse… right?

I sighed, relieved when Paul opened the cell door. I gave him a wobbly smile, standing up.

His face remained expressionless as he held out his hand to me. "Come with me."

I took his hand and followed him out into the hallway. Everything would be all right, I assured myself, trying to relax as we made our way up the stairs.

Paul opened the door and stepped back to let me go before him. I stepped into the room and stopped short. A very large man—large as in strong, not fat, at least as far as I could tell—was standing near the bed, looking at me very strangely.

And he was glowing.

I took an unsteady step back. As I turned to look back at Paul, I heard the door shut behind me and the loud click of the lock.

I turned to stare at the door. "Paul?" I reached for the door handle, trying to open the door, even though logically I knew it was locked from the outside. "Paul?" I glanced over my shoulder at the man moving toward me. It's all right, I assured myself. Nothing's going to happen. It didn't keep a feeling of panic from rising as he drew closer. I jiggled the handle again.

"Paul!"

A/N: Yikes.

Waiting for my 100th review… O.o I've never had 100 reviews on anything before (well, more than 100 reviews cumulatively on a series, but not on one story.)

Bad news: I've misplaced my remote. I can't watch The Planet's Most Extreme. You have no idea how painful this is. Well, one of you does, but the rest… -shudders- just know it's beyond torture.