Chapter Five: Trust and Instinct

The guy spun around and looked at Jesse hard for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He closed his eyes and when they snapped open again, he'd completely relaxed his expression and he spoke in a low drawl.

"Relax, de Silva, nothing's going on." He rolled his eyes at Jesse, and I saw Jesse trying to reign his own anger in. It was strange; I'd never seen Jesse so angry before. These guys obviously had a whole lot of history together – and they wouldn't trust each other as far as they could throw each other. It was slightly disconcerting.

For about a minute, there was nothing but silence, but then this 'Slater' guy looked up and went. "Well, I've got better things to do than sitting around having a replica of a sponsored silence." He turned to walk out the door but before he did, he turned to me and went, "Later, Suze."

Baffled by his change of attitude, I could only incline my head slightly and hastily mutter a, "Bye."

Jesse looked as baffled as I felt at the guy's sudden getaway. He walked over to me and reached out a hand, cradling mine in his. He sat down on a chair beside my bed and regarded me seriously. "Susannah," he said softly, "Slater is not to be trusted. You must watch out for him."

"Slater?" I asked him. "Weird name. But why can't I trust him?"

"His," he paused for a moment, "surname, as you say, is Slater. His full name is Paul Slater. But querida, he has hurt you before and taken advantage of you. I cannot trust that he will not do this again."

I sat up through a far dulling pain, then wondered aloud, "What did he do?"

"He told me a number of months ago," Jesse said through gritted teeth, looking like he was trying to force the words out and not appear angry even as his grip tightened marginally on my hands, "that you and he were in his bed together."

I shot up, startled. "I would never-" I began, anger coursing through my veins, but Jesse unclasped my fingers and held up a hand, halting me. I felt such strong emotions for Jesse that I'd never do anything to hurt him, I was sure. He smiled softly, and absently ran a hand through my hair.

"I know, querida. But I do not trust that he would not use exertion to get what he wanted of you."

I fidgeted uncomfortably, messing with the bedclothes. I couldn't believe it. "But-" I protested feebly, but apparently Jesse hadn't finished.

"Also, you did…" he paused again, this time acting like he was wondering what to tell me. "Do you remember the place you call Shadowland?" He asked finally, staring at me intently.

At the word, a flash of a place assaulted my eyes. Everywhere seemed to be almost black, stars twinkling overhead in an area rolling with thick fog, moving and chilling me to the bone. The whole place was lined with doors, each door looking the same as the last, no way to distinguish one from another. I had the creepy feeling that that hallway – this corridor – would go on forever. One of the doors, however, was open and a dark haired boy turned back, looking me in the eye with an amused eyebrow quirked up.

…Then he took a step forward and shut the door and there was a blinding white flash of light…

And then I was sat on my bed, trembling, eyes closed against the blindingly bright white light. An arm went around my shoulder and I leant into Jesse – for whom else would it be? – trying to calm down my breathing and increase my body temperature.

"Are you alright?" Jesse asked uncertainly, and as I opened my eyes, I saw he was staring at me with an immeasurable amount of concern.

"I'm fine," I said shortly, but didn't reach out to get away from him. "Anyway, yeah, I think I remember it," I muttered evenly, staring stubbornly at the bedspread.

He didn't look convinced at my declaration of being perfectly alright, but let the matter drop.

"Some time ago, you did a brave thing to help me, with a possible forfeit of your own life," Jesse was staring intently at me as he continued, "and if you were not back within a certain time limit, then you would be stuck as a ghost. Slater was there, but he refused to help, just wasted our time speaking cryptically. I also believe that he sabotaged our escape route, so that we made a very lucky escape together."

I swallowed. I'd probably have felt better not knowing that.

"When I saw him, I got the feeling I didn't like him…" I swallowed as I thought about the pretty hot, but altogether normal looking guy. How could he be a part of some things that seemed so… wrong? "And that maybe I never had liked him," I continued. "But for some reason, I still feel compelled to trust him - at least a little." This feeling seemed to come from very deep down, but I wasn't going to tell Jesse that.

I looked at him almost apologetically, and he gave a strained smile. "If you feel you must trust him, do as you will, Susannah. But I am afraid that I cannot do so. I do not believe there is any good in Paul Slater."

I shrugged slightly, sitting up from his embrace. "They say there's a bit of good in everyone," I told him, "but with some people, you just need to work harder to find it."

"Perhaps," was his response, but I got the feeling that he didn't believe in my instinct or the saying. No matter, though, I thought, for I don't need Jesse's approval for what I do, and he seems to have just made clear that he will not be alarmed if I heed the advice I'm telling myself. Besides, it's all I can trust right now – bits and pieces of me that I still have, although my thoughts on this boy, this man, seem to be in conflict.

Still, he seemed like he might be able to help me. That is, if I could actually get him to tell the truth and spare me his massively unnecessary dose of witty repartee.

Jesse pulled me from my thoughts by cupping a hand under my chin and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "I am afraid that I must go," he informed me, looking quite regretful. "I shall be back when I am next able. Stay safe."

Before waiting for my response, he had dematerialised. Sighing, I got ready to go back to sleep. I was still uncannily tired, and beginning to wonder whether or not I was going to have to spend more than half my life sleeping away in a hospital.

Well, I thought as I snuggled down under the covers, I sure hope not.

When I woke up again, I was still hugely drowsy. This really annoyed me. I was tired of constantly feeling so tired and moreover I just couldn't understand my long periods of tiredness and the aching bones that accompanied it. None of it really made any sense.

I didn't want to try and move, deciding it would probably be a really bad idea and that it would end up with me in even more intense pain than the dull throb that I was experiencing.

I could hear low mumbles in the background, and they both slowly became words that my brain could process as I lay there, looking for all of the world like I was still asleep. At first though, all I caught was snippets of sentences.

"…Physically she seems to be doing okay…. noticed sometimes she seems to be suffering from… gets inexplicable pains, we've observed…"

The voice is familiar. I struggle to be more conscious of what they're saying. The first full sentence that I catch is said by a different person, but still by one that also seems oddly familiar.

"Then… what about mentally?"

There was a long pause, making me unconsciously hold my breath for a moment. I was sure by this time that they were talking about me and it was strange and a little scary at the prospect of hearing a doctor's prognosis on what was going on within my head.

"Psychologically, her state seems quite unstable. She seems rather pent on self destruction. There was an incident where a vase was cracked right next to her on her bed when nobody else had been in the room, and I found her on the floor, confused and denying it, but with no adequate explanation about what happened."

The other woman – for I was convinced, at least, that she was female – gave a strangled sort of cry.

"Anything else?" the lady asked hesitantly.

I had a feeling what else was going to be said and was really mad, not to mention confused. I tried to sit up, then cursed myself, the pain duplicating again. The attention of both of the women turned to me, then.

One of them was my nurse – the one who didn't seem to know much about the job. I was convinced of that even more, now. Self-destructive? Me? Honestly!

The other was a woman who'd been there the first time I'd woken up. I wondered if she'd been introduced, but my head was pounding too much for me to settle on the memory and consider that. It would probably just appear as a murky haze, anyway. Memories seemed surprisingly good at doing this.

"Susie!" the woman who was not my nurse said in relief and a little guilt. I noticed that she seemed to have been crying, if the puffy red quality of her eyes was anything to go by, that is.

I, however, ignored her and glowered at the nurse. "I'm not self-destructive!" I glowered indignantly. "I don't know what happened, but I tell you, I didn't do it!"

The nurse very unprofessionally ignored her distraught patient – ie. me – and said to the lady, "We think she may have hit her head."

"I didn't hit my head!" I practically shrieked in frustration. I don't know how that woman got a job as a curse. Thank God she wasn't a councillor. Although, she might make a good anger management councillor… for people to shriek at until she'd finished underestimating their intelligence, that is.

She acted as if I wasn't in the room. "We also had a woman in to do a psychological analysis, she asked for a mirror and, when she was given it, within a minute of it she had smashed the mirror, cut her palms and reached down to pick up the sharp pieces." She gave the other lady a meaningful look, and I closed my eyes as I heard the soft, sad, disbelieving gasp.

"It was an accident," I growl, my voice extremely strained, "and I bent down to pick up the pieces so that nobody would unknowingly walk on them, not realizing they were there."

Neither of them believed me. I huffed and turned away, ignoring the pain that had considerably lessened already and had swept away with the tiredness. Idiots.

Nobody talked again after that, but I heard heels clicking away down the corridor, and only then did I turn back around. The nurse had gone – thank God – but the woman was still there.

"So," I asked stiffly, "who are you, anyway?"

Her eyes started to water up even more, and she forced a sad, tremulous smile onto her face. "Oh, Suzie, it's me. I'm your mother."

And it was only in that second that I connected the voice.

Author's Notes: My Paul is very confusing, just to let you know. He's by far the most complex character in this fic. As you've noticed, there are several original characters (though I think Alicia is the only one that's come up so far) too, and they're still not as complex as Paul. He changes a lot due to situation, so don't write him off as good or bad yet. Wait until you have the whole picture.

I couldn't figure out how to tell some parts of the story, so I settled on use of interludes, and we'll be hitting the first one soon. That will explain a lot of things that Suze POV can't, but it won't get too deep into the fic - nope, we need WAY more suspense before that:P

Next Chapter: The overdue reunion of Suze and her mother takes place, and is just as awkward as anticipated. And Suze isn't pleased with the solutions - and their conditions - that people are pushing at her.