F l a s h l i g h t

by Stark Raving Lolly

Nathan Blake. Robin Lawrence. Charles Austin. Bart Ford. Four boys, all dead. A violently haunted exboarding school. A fire in 1969. A man named Cole to run from. A mystery to be solved...and a love to be determined. Busy, aren't we Suze? [FINISHED]

33. That Thing Called 'Family'

Yes, we KNOW this took a long time! We are sorry, we are being whipped and chained as we speak. Hehe . . . kinky.

Okay, ONE more chapter after this one, I think.

Paulie lovers, get your drool cups: fluff ahead.

- 8 -

The plan was to go straight from Gilroy to Carmel, rent a hotel or something, and do a bit of relaxing until the reunion. But when you're a foursome of young adults, plans tend to change at the last minute.

Especially when one of the four happens to be Adam McTavish, party animal extreme.

Paul and I were driving down the long highway quite peacefully. Occasionally, we'd comment on the avocado farms or the orchards we happen to pass by. California is just so green, in comparison to the glum, gray streets of Massachusetts.

Paul drove one-handed. His other hand rested itself lightly on my knee. I slipped my fingers into his. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror and noticed that I was grinning like an idiot.

That may be, but I was a HAPPY little idiot. So hah.

Then my cell phone, which was rested in my lap, began to vibrate, which caused me to jump and hit my head on the roof of the car. I picked up the phone and saw that the caller ID said Adam on it.

I pressed talk and said, 'God, Adam, thanks a lot.'

'For what?' Adam wanted to know.

'My phone was in my lap when you called, and when it vibrated, it – '

'Oh,' Adam teased, 'my pleasure. Or should I say your pleasure?'

'Shut up. I was going to say it scared me.'

Adam snorted on the other line. 'Riiiiight . . . '

I sighed into the phone. I don't know how I was able to get by five years without Adam's humor. Or indeed, how I was able to get by a month WITH it.

'So . . . what's going on?' I asked.

'I'm glad you asked, Miss Simon. You're a working woman, right? Well, what normally happens after a long day's work?'

'Uh . . . sleep?' I asked, dumbly. That's what I would do because I was usually so physically and emotionally tired by the end of the day.

'Happy Hour!' Adam answered for me. 'We just got paid, Suze! Where's your sense of spirit?'

I do have one . . . but it involves actually sensing spirits.

Well, we did deserve it. I mean, we survived. We managed to get the job done, even if it was in a weird supernatural way that no one could have ever thought of. It was kind of like a milestone for the SIA. Our first case, our first victory out of the many more to come.

There was also another milestone to celebrate though . . . Adam and CeeCee's marriage. That's pretty big, you know, even if the Catholic Church doesn't recognize it.

'Just ask Paul if he wants to. If you don't want to go . . . well, he's strong enough to drag you in.'

I rolled my eyes and put my hand over the receiver, turned to Paul, and asked, 'Are you up for a few drinks? Adam suggests we do a little Happy Hour.'

All I could see of Paul was his profile because his eyes were on the road. He didn't answer for a moment. But then I noticed a bit of a smirk play on his lips. 'Where do we meet them?'

'He's in,' I said. I added, correcting myself, 'We're in.'

Oh, how I love that pronoun.

- 8 -

Five years ago, this whole scene would have not only been unimaginable, but completely strange in my mind. I mean, I guess being in a bar with Adam and CeeCee wouldn't have been too far off if I had kept contact with them throughout the years. I didn't until now, though.

It was mostly being in a bar with Adam, CeeCee, AND Paul. And I wasn't just with Paul . . . I was WITH him, sitting on the barstool next to him with his arm draped around my shoulders. And as odd as it would seem to myself in the past, it just seemed like something natural now.

It was as if the past five years had just been a strange dream, and now I was awake and things were finally starting to go back to normal, even though it was never really normal in the first place.

So yeah, that was the current Kodak moment. Paul, Cee, Adam and I were in the corner booth of some bar which was half way between Carmel and Gilroy. By the time we had gotten there, it had been about seven thirty. Paul had ordered a round of drinks for all of us - light beer for me, thank you - and within about fifteen minutes, we were talking pretty openly (and somewhat loudly) about Fortunaschwein.

'There was never a dull moment,' CeeCee reminisced, with a giddy giggle.

'I'll say, That was some really trippy stuff. Especially with the paranormal stuff . . . I felt like I was on drugs or something,' Adam said, after polishing off his second beer.

I laughed. My life was pretty unreal at times, even to me. All Adam saw was floating objects and a few people talking to absolutely nothing. Hmm . . . it must be funny being normal and seeing things like that. It must have been incredible.

And we just sat there, chatting. The whole time. Adam and CeeCee were filled in finally on pretty much everything Paul and I had kept from them about the Misforts. They didn't take it as badly as they would have if they HAD been sober, so this really was the best time.

By about nine, Adam ordered fish and chips for all of us.

By eleven, I was on my fourth light beer. Adam was getting smashed, and kept very obviously touching CeeCee's butt, though he thought he was being discreet. It was more like groping than touching, actually.

'You're drunk,' she hissed at him. Adam denied it most indignantly as he slurped down another beer.

Paul had always been able to hold his liquor. He was starting to show a couple signs of cracking, though. But not too many. Just the occasional slurred word. At least his sentences were coherent.

'So, Suze,' CeeCee said, eyeing me curiously, 'What are you going to say in your speech for the reunion?'

I gulped, and took another swig of beer. 'Don't remind me,' I muttered.

'You haven't written it yet?' CeeCee sounded shocked.

To tell you the truth, I really hadn't even thought of it at all while I was in California. As you can see, I've had a few other things to concentrate on like, oh I don't know, trying to thwart three deadly ghosts.

'I'll improvise on the day,' I shrugged.

'You really should at least plan – '

'Shut up, Mrs McTavish,' Adam laughed, and leant over to kiss her neck a little. CeeCee giggled, and shoved him away, trying to focus back on the conversation.

I rested my chin on my hands, smiling happily, loving the alcohol's caress. I wasn't completely wasted or anything . . . just a little punch drunk. You know . . . happy-go-lucky and tipsy. I threw a merry glance over at Paul, and smiled some more.

Maybe it was just the beer, but he looked even hotter than before, with the light throwing half of his face into shadow. It may sound kind of weird, but I couldn't stop staring at his hand either . . . the one that wasn't draped across my shoulder. It was lightly touching the neck of the glass he was drinking from. That strong looking hand, the one that held so much power. That same manly hand that could pack a mean punch was the one that made me shiver every time I felt it touch me.

Okay, I was definitely a little buzzed.

'You know what?' Adam said suddenly, 'I reckon we should make a toast.'

'Hmm,' Paul agreed, after a moment. 'Good idea, McTavish.' He picked up his glass, and CeeCee and Adam followed suit. I settled back in my chair and did the same, grabbing my bottle.

'Anyone want to go first?' Adam asked.

CeeCee coughed in her throat, and tossed her hair.

'Well,' she began sophisticatedly. 'More often than not, our lives were on the line throughout that job. One of them was lost. But . . . we did survive. And I think that we now appreciate life even more, and that we're not going to put stuff off anymore. Like, getting married to the person we love even if the local priest opens the Gateway of Hell because of it . . . Hmm. To survival.'

'To survival,' we echoed, and all chinked.

Next, was my turn. I grinned, and raised my beer a little higher.

'Uh,' I said, 'I guess CeeCee said most of what I was going to say. But . . . yeah. Life is something that I didn't really value all that much, because it used to suck. I guess I wasn't looking at the big picture though. You know . . . I was so caught up in the bad things that I drowned out the good. I guess it always goes back to that stupid "Big Yellow Taxi" song . . . you know. 'Don't it always seem to go – '

"That you don't know what you've got till it's gone",' Adam sang loudly, throwing his head back.

I smiled. 'Yeah, that. Well . . . I lost life. But I've got it back now. I'm not going to take it for granted. There's so much out there for me, not just what I thought I deserved. So we're all going to be brave, and we're going to live. To life,' I concluded.

'To life,' the others droned, and again, we chinked glasses.

I think I've got the whole impromptu speech thing down.

Next, it was Paul's turn. He was sitting next to me. His brow creased in thought, and he stared at his drink intently. Then, he lifted his gaze, and said clearly, 'To Suze.'

I blinked. 'Uh, a little biased aren't we?'

'Yeah,' Adam agreed, grinning like an idiot, 'Not all of us have slept with her yet, Slater. Emphasis on yet.'

CeeCee rolled her eyes, and Adam, elegantly wasted, just grinned with cheer.

'No,' Paul said, looking at them with intensity. 'I mean it. Suze has got to be one of the most powerful shifters in existence. You . . . you don't know what she did. You weren't there,' he said in a quiet voice to Adam and CeeCee, who were both now serious-faced from the tone of Paul's voice.

My eyes widened a little.

One of the most powerful shifters . . . in existence?

I need a badge with THAT on it, huh?

'What she did was phenomenal. She's the best damn mediator a ghost could ever get, and she's got the biggest heart. Once again with the not knowing what I got till it's gone. So here's to Suze, for coming back to us,' he lifted his glass high.

'To Suze,' CeeCee and Adam repeated, their eyes on mine.

I was blushing rather hard.

But . . . I was really touched, too.

I turned my head and looked at Paul. He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression. Once again, it was like he was searching deep down in my soul, just by the connection his gaze had with mine.

Then, he leaned over a little, and kissed my lips softly.

After pulling back, we heard Adam go, 'To alcohol. The cause of – and solution to – all life's problems.'

We all chinked glasses again. CeeCee, once again, rolled her eyes affectionately at Adam. After taking a sip of her drink, she kissed him on the cheek and leaned against his shoulder.

She was in so deep. I could see her eyes were positively shining.

And better yet . . . we'd done it.

The SIA had succeeded.

Adam chose that moment to burp very loudly. Adam was a funny drunk, though not very dignified.

So there we were, drinking the fruits of our labour. So what if Happy Hour turned out to be SEVERAL Happy Hours . . . I mean, we were enjoying ourselves.

However, after a couple more drinks on my part, I started LEVITATING the bottles on the table and making them zoom about three feet high, giggling drunkenly.

'Haha . . . it's flying . . . weeeeeeeeeeee!'

Paul WISELY decided that it was time we all left. Everyone else in the bar that saw me levitating stuff was too drunk to realize it, but the bar-tender was giving me strange looks.

'Okay, someone's had too much,' he muttered in my ear. 'Time to go, Suze.'

Giggling giddily, I stood up and brushed my hair off my face. CeeCee hugged me and said in my ear, 'Prepare your speech, Simon. If you need help, just – '

'I'm FINE,' I hissed back at her, and she let go.

'God,' Paul grinned, 'Who's the designated driver out of you two? You're both hammered.'

CeeCee raised a hand. 'I didn't have that much,' was her defense.

Snorting in obvious skepticism, Paul replied, 'You want a lift to Carmel?'

'No.'

'Okay,' he said, and his hand slid around my waist. Mysteriously, within a few seconds, I was slumped in Paul's passenger seat, and I could hear the purr of his Jaguar.

I must have been asleep . . .

Turning a little, I blinked once and was out again.

- 8 -

The absence of the car's smooth engine woke me up. I mean, by then, I'd gotten used to the constant noise, and when it stopped, that was only when I noticed how easily I'd just accepted it.

Kind of like life, you could say.

'Suze,' I heard my name, crisp in my ear. 'Suze . . . do you want me to take you to your house?'

'Mmm . . . ' I blinked very sleepily, and rubbed my eyes. I further unleashed an almighty yawn, and straightened up a little. ' . . . Huh? I - I mean . . . what time is it?'

'One o'clock.' Paul's voice was soft, and kind of rusty. He must have been tired too.

'Whoa,' I muttered, focusing my gaze on his face. It was completely riveted on me, awaiting my answer. Moonlight was a really good look for him. 'That late, huh? Well . . . I don't want to really wake the mother up just because I came home . . . and plus, she'll keep me up and demand to know where I've been and if I had a good time, and I just really want to go to bed - '

'So, crashing at my place?' Paul's mouth turned to a sly grin.

'If you don't mind.'

He scoffed. 'You think I mind?'

Smiling wearily, I clicked my seatbelt off, and looked beyond the foggy car windows. Paul's beachside residence on Scenic Drive lurked in the night's coldness. I turned back Paul, blinking indignantly. 'Oh, so you just knew I'd say yes to staying here, did you?'

He laughed evilly. 'If you didn't . . . I would have found it necessary to convince you.'

'Man-slut,' I scowled.

Chuckling, he opened his car door and I felt a blast of bitter cold air on my body. I was extremely reluctant to open MY door, but Paul had done it for me.

He offered his hand, and pulled me out gently.

'It's freezing,' I shivered.

'It's warmer inside,' he assured me. 'We've got heaters and stuff. I'll leave our bags in the car until the morning - we can deal with them then, okay? Come on.'

He grabbed the edge of his jacket, and wrapped it around me, pulling me right by his side. Well, I wasn't really complaining - my shoulders and upper back were a hell of a lot warmer. When we got to his door, he fiddled with a key that he'd dug out of his pocket.

'Shit,' he cursed, his voice low and annoyed. 'Lock's changed since the last time I was here . . . oh well, it doesn't matter.'

He proceeded to wrap his OTHER arm around me tightly, before we materialised.

Well . . . that sure was a convenient way to break into a house.

I laughed a little. 'Cute,' I smiled. He smirked down at me, and ran his hand through my hair, which I had down. It was screaming to be drowned in oodles and oodles Herbal Essence. 'Hmm,' I pulled away, and looked around at the dark house around me. 'Haven't been here since - '

'Those notorious shifting lessons of ours,' he finished for me. 'Funnily enough, I can almost say the same thing.'

A killer yawn spilled out of me again, and Paul looked at me sympathetically. 'God, you really are tired. Right, we're getting you to bed, Simon.'

'We're?' I questioned his usage, 'What, you and your other personalities? I completely knew you were bipolar . . . Sméagol,' I added.

'Oh, that's great,' Paul rolled his eyes, his hands falling to my hips again, drawing me close, 'You come back of the dead just full of insults, don't you? So what am I? A schizophrenic wannabe-gentleman now?'

'Haha. Very funny. I want to go to bed now,' I told him.

He leant down and kissed me lightly. 'Only if I can come,' he whispered against my lips.

'If that's what it takes to get some shut eye,' I smiled, my hand grazing his face affectionately, 'I'll make that sacrifice.'

Paul's hand came to my wrist, and his fingers closed around it one by one. He brought my fingertips to his lips, and kissed them delicately. Then, with his eyes as dark and unreadable as they were icy blue, he brushed a bit of hair off of my face.

Finally though, we started heading upstairs.

The house was completely silent, except for some TV-like noises that were coming from the other end of the house - I assumed they were from Dr. Slaski's television. He'd probably nodded off in front of Family Feud and was drooling over his shirt. Moonlight was shining through the glass, translucent windows, and the stairway was completely cold.

'Your heating system here sucks,' I commented. 'It's freakin' cold, Paul.'

'Hey, be nice,' he smirked. 'People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Suze. The walls might shatter.'

However, when we were on the landing and were making our way down the hall, Paul suddenly stopped, and twisted his head to grin down at me.

I knew why, too.

We were in front of his old bedroom. The door was barely ajar.

His laugh was completely sexy, too. He knew why I was suddenly embarrassed and flushed. I mean, our first kiss hadn't exactly been innocent.

'What do you say?' he breathed in a voice that was low, enticing and amused at my abrupt flashback. He trailed his fingers down my arms, and I shuddered in both delight and anticipation. 'For old time's sake, Suze?'

Before I could even answer, he'd pushed the door open, and had tugged me inside.

The door clicked shut, and Paul's smile was wry. He tossed his head a little, striking a freaky resemblance with Nathaniel Blake. Then, he just stood there, staring down at me.

'Want to, uh, turn on a light?' I suggested lamely. The natural luminance that night provided was hitting his face, making his features look prominent and strong. The both of us were lost in blue glow, and shadow. It was almost enthralling as it was dark. My heart was thudding in my chest. Before in his car, I'd been fast asleep.

Now I was wide awake – alert – trying to guess what he'd do next.

'Why would I do that?' he asked. 'All the most exciting times with you are when the lights are off.'

I breathed in, thrilled by his words. I mean, there was the OBVIOUS event that he was referring to . . . but I thought back to the others. Like, the time when we'd been in his car, and we'd revealed to each other how we actually felt . . . or that time when I'd almost just drowned, and we were back in Fortunaschwein's entrance hall, and he'd told me that my eyes were beautiful . . .

I remembered how scared I'd been then of him.

Because really, that's when it had started to get dangerous. That's when I'd truly began to fall for him.

Only post-analysis of the situation could have made me realise that, and pinpoint a moment where I'd started to really drown in it.

I mean . . . the thing that happened that night when we'd . . . got mad at each other, that had had EVENTS leading up to that. We hadn't just randomly decided to - you know, do the sexy thing, there and then. There'd been tension building up before it had happened. I guess it had spilled over, and had resulted in a full-on revelation on both parts. You know, what we hated about each other . . . what we loved . . .

And it had all been in the dark.

Well, now, nothing was in the dark anymore. It was bathed in warm, rich light.

So even though he didn't want the bedroom light on, I still knew that there was light there. There weren't secrets anymore. We weren't hiding things from each other.

This was us. Here and now.

It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.

The next thing I knew, Paul's moonlit features loomed closer and closer. The first time we were in this room together, his kiss was a sudden interruption, fueled by a mixture of young lust and unplaced hormonal urges. Now though, we were in slow motion, moving slowly because we had all the time in the world together.

Before our lips made contact, he leaned his forehead against mine. My eyes closed, breathing him in . . . his smell and his presence. Suddenly, we were kissing and later, somehow, we were sitting on the edge of his bed just as we had been when we were young.

This time when he eased me into a more horizontal position on top of me, I had no objections whatsoever.

As his form pressed mine down, I relished the electricity that was wreaking lovely havoc over my body. His kiss was continued, and my fingers were already gripping his back even closer to me, as if he could never be close enough.

Well, I'm sure we already remember the time when he was REALLY close.

Cough.

Too close for General Exhibition, in fact.

I sighed into the kiss, and his tongue cajoled mine smoothly. I was already feeling overwhelmed with heat. I wasn't as freezing cold as I had been before.

For, um, obvious reasons.

Awesome thing about Paul - he ALWAYS managed to make me feel hot.

. . . Okay, eww.

My fingers, which were almost digging into his back by then, jerkily moved lower as I began breathing harder. They reached the edge of his shirt, and pulled it up as if it couldn't come off hurriedly. Paul's hands, which were smoothing down my face and along my neck, suddenly moved away from me as he broke contact to execute the Mission of the Shirt Removal. It was a quick, impassioned action that was over before we regarded it.

Then, he was kissing me again. His hands straying down my sides, so they were beneath MY shirt. However, he made no attempt to get rid of it then. He was content with seducing the skin of my stomach, and driving me absolutely insane.

All with his fingertips, too.

God damn him.

'Paul - ' I said breathily.

He looked down at me, breathing harder too. 'If you want to, we can . . . '

'Should we? I mean . . . now? What if your grandfather wakes up?'

'What'll he do? Wheel up here and threaten to drool on us?' Paul's hands moved further up my top, till his fingers hit the spot between my breasts. I smiled luxuriously. Aww . . . that felt jolly nice . . .

'But - '

He didn't let me try to object again: his lips covered mine, effectively shutting me up and making me moan softly. I wanted him. His shirt was off, and my hands were freely dragging down his hot chest. I felt like a willing slave to passion, all over again. I still couldn't understand why he was always such an incredible source of warmth. I mean . . . the guy was like a campfire all on his own. Who NEEDED reverse cycle air-conditioning when I had him?

I mean, it was one thing to say that the guy was hot. But Paul had body heat that never quit.

Not complaining, since more often than not, I was freezing my ass off.

'Funny,' I said huskily, 'I'm not jabbing my thumb in your eye this time . . . '

He laughed. 'I'm sure the temptation's always there.'

Again, I was going to reply, but his mouth was suddenly all over my neck.

'Oh God,' I gasped. I twisted my head to the side, my chest heaving as I struggled for breath. 'Paul . . . '

But Paul was unstoppable, and so was I. I couldn't help but succumb to the passion. This time, it wasn't misplaced passion reserved for someone else. This time it was the real thing that I was feeling for Paul.

I turned my head and caught Paul's lips, kissing him with force that I had never unleashed before. I pressed against him, and he pulled me into him at the same time. Kissing, touching, breathing, reveling, adoring, overpowering . . .

I rolled over on Paul, straddling his waist. It was about time I showed him a little of my feminism. I mean . . . guys doing the hard work ALL the time? Um, this is the twenty-first century. The girl is capable of providing SOME of the fun.

My hands splayed themselves across his chest again, and I sucked in a toxic breath. My blood was pumping, hot and ready. My lips parted, and I scanned him from his stomach up to his piercing blue eyes. They were like knives of ice, pinning me back with their intensity. Just his look, embellished by the cold moonlight, was enough to make my heart beat in fierce overdrive.

He grinned up at me, as if in approval, enticing me to continue what ever I'd impulsively planned for him . . .

But that was when I saw it.

Directly above his head. I had no idea how I could have MISSED it. I mean, it has HUGE.

AND NO, it was NOT a COCKROACH.

As soon as I DID see it though, I froze.

'Paul,' I said slowly, 'Since when do you like Good Charlotte?'

He looked puzzled. 'What are you talking ab - ?'

He did not finish his sentence though, because right at that moment, the door creaked slightly, and a yell of horror rang throughout my eardrums.

'HEY! WHO THE - WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN - AAAAH!'

Horrified, I rolled off Paul and ended up falling completely off the freakin' BED.

Paul, however, was quick to explode at the intruder with overpowering ferocity.

'Jack! Get the fuck out of here!' A pillow was pelted viciously at the door. I heard the thunk. 'What do you think you're doing, bursting in on - who KNOWS what we could have been - '

'I'm sorry! I didn't see anything! I just - Paul, this is MY ROOM.'

Aaah. So THAT'S who liked Good Charlotte.

'It's WHAT?' Paul was still furious. He also sounded humiliated.

'Sorry!' Jack's voice was high, 'Sorry to your friend, wherever she went - I'm sorry, I didn't know you were back - God, I'm never sleeping in that bed again . . . '

I decided to pop my head up then. I was really, truly shocked. But come on, the poor guy was horrified.

'Jack,' I panted, scrambling up to a standing position, 'Uh . . . hi.'

The mini-Slater could hardly believe his eyes. ' . . . Suze?' he marveled.

'Um,' I said, 'Yeah. Listen, it's - '

'You're - YOU AND PAUL ARE . . . oh WOW!' he suddenly cried. Before I could blink, he had run over to me, and was hugging me with the lethal Slater strength. It took several seconds to process that he was HAPPY. You know, chuffed that he'd just walked in on his brother getting stripped by his old babysitter.

'I didn't know it was you!' he babbled, 'I thought that it was just some chick that Paul had grabbed or something, and - '

'You can still sleep in that bed,' I assured him, patting his back a little, 'We didn't - okay, Jack, I'm happy to see you too - '

'Sorry, Jack,' Paul was obviously very uncomfortable at the moment, especially at having to apologise after Jack had interrupted his private seduction, 'I completely forgot this was your room now. I mean, you even told me and Suze, when we were at that pizza place, didn't you? Sorry. And - hey, why aren't you asleep?' Paul changed his tune from apologetic to critical.

'Uhhhh . . . ' Jack let go of me, looking guilty.

'Were you on your crappy X-Box again?' Paul snapped. 'I thought you dropped that when you left Seattle.'

'Shut up,' Jack said defensively.

'We're sorry, Jack,' I apologised again. Didn't want to ruin the kid's peace of mind, after all.

Jack turned back to me, and a giddy smile conquered his face. 'This is so cool,' he grinned. 'You and Paul, I mean. I mean . . . what happened with Dani was really sad, but I always liked you better than her, Suze. But you always thought that Paul was such a dickhead, so I didn't think that you'd ever get with - '

'Hey!' Paul argued. Then, he shot me a questioning look.

'The boy speaks the truth,' I shrugged. 'You ARE a dickhead, Paul.'

Instead of looking insulted, Paul just raised his eyebrows. 'Okay, fair enough.'

'So, what'd I miss at Fortunaschwein?' Jack asked excitedly, 'Are the Misforts gone? And when did Paul and you - '

'Listen,' I said to Jack, 'It's late, and . . . we shouldn't really talk now. I'll give you the lowdown in the morning, okay?'

'Okay,' Jack nodded quickly. 'I . . . I need to get changed for bed now.'

'Yeah,' Paul said, equally as fast. 'Yeah, Suze and I are . . . going to one of the spare rooms. We'll talk in the morning, right. And yeah, sorry about that, Jack.'

'Dickheads like you can't help it,' he grinned toothily. He must have realised that this was the only time he was going to get away with swearing at his big brother.

Paul narrowed his eyes a little, but shrugged. 'I guess I deserve it,' he muttered. 'Okay, we're gone.'

He got a hold of my wrist, and we were outta there like quick silver.

After we'd bumbled down the halls, away from Jack's quiet call of ,'Goodnight!' Paul pushed open a door of another room.

It looked as cold and impersonal as his own had looked, as if ALL the rooms in this house were tidy and professional looking, as opposed to looking like they were human-inhabited. I guess the Slaters were just clean freaks.

Whatever. Paul, once again, didn't even bother with the light. Honestly, the house could have had a black out and we wouldn't have known, because we hadn't used a single light yet.

You'd think we'd be all over each other again, with the way the moonlight played on the surface of his glass house. But after our little encounter with Jack, well, that drive was a little drained.

'Wow,' I intoned suddenly, still holding his hand, 'Getting caught by your little brother is a complete turn off.'

Paul growled in agreement. 'You're not wrong.'

'Anyway, I think that we'd better just go to sleep now,' I admitted sheepishly. 'It's almost two, and we've had our fun for the night.'

'Not even close,' Paul grumbled again, disappointed. 'God, if that hadn't have been his bedroom, I would have KILLED him.'

I grinned, and rubbed his back soothingly. 'Come on, Paul. Sexual frustration isn't good for you. And plus . . . better Jack than your granddad.'

'Hmm . . . '

He tore back the covers, and then coaxed me down on the bed with him. I could see in the moonlight that he was pouting just slightly.

'Now shut up and sleep,' I ordered.

His arm pulled me into him, and while I was entertaining weird and wonderful thoughts, I must have fallen asleep somewhere between thinking that my life was a precious thing, and the thought where I finally realised at that precise moment, I was truly happy.

- 8 -

I turned over in the bed, the sunlight streaming on my face through the glass walls, and I noticed that I was in the bed alone, in Paul's spare bed. I pulled back the covers and rolled out, a little nervous about being in his house without him there.

I wandered down the hall looking for Paul. I was still kind of tired, so I had to hold on to the wall occasionally. A hint of a headache graced my head since I had had a few more drinks then I should have the night before. It wasn't that bad, though. I could deal.

I looked down at myself groggily, and realized I'd slept in my jeans that I had been wearing the day before. Oh, great. Eww. Now I'd have imprints all over my stomach for a whole ten minutes. Ugh. And my jeans now had that day-old crinkled look to them.

To make matters worse, all my clothes and personals were still in Paul's car outside, so I couldn't get changed yet.

Hang on . . . hehe. I could just materialize out there and grab my gear, right? I mean, I COULD now.

Oh, this was so cool . . .

So, just as I was visualizing Paul's jazzy black Jaguar and I could feel the materialization starting, I heard someone say, 'Suze, don't!'

Breaking of my intention to disappear, I looked over to see who'd stopped me.

'Oh,' I said, 'Hey Jack.'

Jack was staring at me with wide blue goggle eyes. 'Psst! What were you doing, Suze? You don't just - not when Mark's here! And Pops will KILL you! Don't tell Paul you were using your powers in broad daylight, or he'll have a total cow.'

'Oh,' I said. Suddenly, materializing from the Slater household to outside, during the day, seemed REALLY thick. Not only would I risk Dr. Slaski seeing me and giving me a grand lecture, but also Mark or other innocent bystanders who just so happen not to be as fortunate as I to be born with wacky ability. And I'd definitely be shipped off to the loony bin. 'Oh yeah. I . . . uh, I didn't think.'

'Only materialize if you really need to, Paul says. Because it does damage every time you do it. And don't do it where people can see! Like Mark was up here just a few seconds ago. He doesn't know anything about what we all are.'

I smiled guiltily. Wow . . . I felt really stupid now. 'I didn't think of that . . . I'll keep that in mind.'

You couldn't blame me for being enthusiastic about my new mastery of my ability, could you? And it's not like my instructor on this kind of thing had necessarily been using this ability sparingly, you know.

Yeah, but me getting brain damage for being lazy? That would SO serve me right.

Trust the thirteen-year-old to point this out.

'You've come a long way,' I observed with a wry smile. 'From announcing on high the whole I-see-dead-people thing, to telling me off. Good to know you realize the importance of our secret.'

Jack looked affronted. 'Of course,' he was indignant. 'I was eight, Suze. God.'

I crossed my arms and smiled at him. I guess it is hard to imagine Jack apart from his childhood, since that was how I knew him best. The awkward little freakazoid who couldn't keep his hair combed, much less his trap shut about his ability.

Now, Jack had grown comfortably into a, dare I say it? Nice young man? I guess I should since that's one of the only ways to describe it. Not only was he socially acceptable, but he'd also grew to have one of the best characters ever. He was just so sweet,

'How come your hair still looks good after you've slept with it out?' Jack changed the topic, a look of wonder coming to his face.

But, um, sometimes a little random.

'I mean, Dani's hair looked . . . weird when she woke up.'

'Thanks,' I smiled brightly, despite my shock in the subject change. I couldn't return the compliment though- once again, Jack had a lethal case of bed-head.

'No really, how?'

Oh, haha. There had been no intention of a compliment, just a legitimate question.

'I don't know,' I shrugged with a chuckle. ''What time is it, Jack?'

'It's twenty past seven,' Jack offered. 'Paul told Mark about you - he was happy too. He wants to say hi, and he said he'd make you breakfast when you wanted it.'

I was pleased with that. 'Mark remembers me?'

'Sure,' Jack grinned, his blue eyes flashing with a touch of admiration. 'You're kind of hard to forget.'

I wasn't sure if he meant that in a good or a bad way . . . Jack's funny like that. His intentions in his words and actions were often unclear. I think he does that on purpose to keep us guessing. Like he was playing a game with everyone.

'Where IS Paul?' I asked suddenly, taking a few steps closer to Jack's door, where he was hanging still. I could see the sunshine flooding his room, courtesy of the glass.

'Went to get the paper,' Jack informed me confidently. 'He got a phone call to go out and fetch one from CeeCee. There's some sort of article or something.'

I frowned. That didn't sound too wonderful . . .

'Wanna come in?' Jack asked after a second.

'Hmm?'

'Wanna come in my room and hang around till Paul gets back? We can listen to music. I can download anything you want, off of my - '

'Okay,' I consented, and once again, entered the Shifting Lessons lair. The room looked no different to last night, save the light. Now, it was so obvious that this room belonged to Jack. I mean, he didn't keep his room as spotless as Paul did back in the day. There were little things around the place indicated his inhabitance.

The posters, for a start. There was a Green Day one above his desk. On the floor, I could see scattered and infrequent articles of clothing. Hanging on his wardrobe door was a black shirt featuring Nirvana. I recognized Kurt Cobain's face.

'Wow,' I was impressed, 'You sure like your bands, don't you?'

'Yeah,' he nodded energetically. Something danced in his blue eyes . . . true appreciation for something. You could tell from the look in his eyes, the décor in his room, and the number of CD's laying around that music was Jack's life.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. 'You're not a teeny bopper, are you?'

Once again, Jack was very much so insulted. 'NO.'

'Okay,' I said quickly, 'Okay, okay. I'd just kill myself if you really were a punk rock princess, is all.'

He threw a pillow at me.

'OW.'

'I'm NOT a punk rock princess,' he snapped at me. Suddenly, a funny look came on his face, and he sighed. Alerted that there was something was up on Planet Jack, I went and sat on his bed.

He slumped over to his laptop, and with a few expertly clicks, The Anthem by Good Charlotte was sounding at a decent volume throughout the entire top floor of the Slater residence.

'JACKSON!' Mark bellowed from the floor below, 'You'll wake your grandfather up!'

I'm sorry, but that had me peeing myself laughing.

'Jackson?' I gasped, scandalized. 'Jack's short for JACKSON?'

Looking distinctly grumpy, Jack turned the music down considerably. 'Shut up,' he groaned. 'Paul gives me heaps for it too. Why couldn't I just get a name that couldn't be shortened? I mean, you can't make "Paul" any longer. He gets off so easy.'

'Call him Paulette,' I suggested.

'I do,' he replied, flopping on his bed next to me, face down. 'And Pauline. And Paulie-Anna. He doesn't care. He just reminds me that mum was stoned enough to call me Jackson, and he automatically wins.'

'Jackson Slater isn't THAT bad,' I admitted. 'It sounds like a rockstar's name.'

He perked up a little. 'Really? You really think so, Suze?'

That I don't ever wanna be like you,
I don't wanna do the things you do,
I'm never gonna hear the words you say,
And I don't ever wanna,
I don't ever wanna be yooooooooou!
Don't wanna be just like you!
What I'm saying is, this is The Anthem,
Throw all your hands up,
Yooooooooou . . . don't wanna be you!

Not really. It was piss-funny. But I didn't tell him that.

'Yeah. Anyhoo, Jackson – '

'Shut up!'

' – What seems to be the bother? You're giving off your dark and gloomy I'm-a-tortured-teenager-being-suppressed-by-the-consumer-driven-society-we-live-in vibe again,' I observed wisely, flopping back on his bed too, eyeing him with a grin. Golly, this little guy was so adorable, bedhead and all.

He sighed a drawn out, tortured sigh. 'You'll laugh.'

'No I won't,' I promised.

'You will so.'

'No I won't.'

Shake it once, that's fine, shake it twice that's okay.
shake it three times - your playing with yourself . . . again.

What a masturbate-ily educational song. I'd never noticed that line in The Anthem before.

Jack sighed again, looking even more tortured. 'Fine . . . Mary dumped me.'

'What!' I demanded hotly, sitting up, 'Why? What's her problem?'

'I don't know,' he stared at his hands. 'She got Alicia to do it. Alicia said that Mary hooked up with some sophomore guy from RLS, while I was at Fortunashwein with the SIA . . .'

I snorted.

'You said you wouldn't laugh!' Jack said ruefully. He buried his head face down in his bed and mumbled, 'Go away.'

'I'm not laughing,' I said. 'I'm expressing my deep disgust for a very stupid girl who is an absolute retard for dumping someone like you.'

Jack looked up and stared at me. 'Someone like me?'

'Yeah. Someone like you. You're a complete catch, Jack. You're a cutie – sorry, but you got it in your genes, mate, so I know what you're gonna look like – you're sweet, you care about people, and you're clever.'

He half-smiled, and released a disheartened breath. 'Why couldn't you be my age?' he asked dreamily. 'That would be so cool . . . '

Um. Okay. Crush alert. Uh oh.

'Er,' I said awkwardly, 'Sure.'

He suddenly twisted away from me, and began rifling through one of his bedside drawers. I got a very horrible view of his shiny black boxers, and closed my eyes instantly, feeling like a kiddie-lover again.

I don't have enough money to go through Michael Jackson proportioned trials.

'Here,' he shoved something in my hand. I opened my eyes again. 'That's Mary.'

My eyes bugged. The huge blue eyes and honey blonde hair were trademark. She had a disgusting I-love-boy-and-they-love-me simper that was plastered across her face. It looked vaguely familiar, though. The familiarity was in more than just the stereotypical class sweetheart Miss Popularity.

'I know that face,' I said suddenly. 'Jack . . . what the hell's her last name?'

'Prescott,' he sounded confused.

I then fell off the bed for the second time in twelve hours. This time, I was laughing my ass off.

'What? PAUL laughed like that too when I told him! WHY?' he moaned woefully.

'HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!' I roared, 'MARY PRESCOTT . . . OH MY GOD. You know HOW MUCH like your brother you really are?' I snickered. 'Paul went out with Mary's sister, Kelly. I swear . . . the both of you are suckers for big tits, aren't you?'

Jack was glaring at me furiously now. 'Shut up! She asked ME out! I didn't want to say no – she had all her friends there, looking at me!'

Aww, man. Poor, POOR Jack. He, too, fell victim to the most popular girl in school and her little squad of leeches.

Still laughing, I grabbed Jack by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled him into a hug. 'You poor guy . . . a Prescott hooked her claws into you. Oh God, that was funny . . . Why'd you go out with her?' I asked in amazement.

'She . . . ' Jack started blushing heatedly. 'I hadn't had a – she was . . . um – '

'First girlfriend, huh?' I smiled.

'She kept wanting to kiss all the time in front of her friends,' Jack wrinkled his nose. 'She smelt of too much make-up, like my mom used to.'

Adoring this little guy, I gave him another hug. 'Swear off preps for me, okay?' I ordered him strictly. 'You're gonna find a girl who is going to love how sweet you are, I promise.'

'Okay . . . '

'So. You're over Mary Prescott, right?' I warned him with beady eyes.

'Uh huh.'

'Good.' I plucked her photo from his hand. 'We know what's happening to THIS then.'

And with a small blink, I set it on fire.

Jack scrambled back in alarm, but within two seconds of being suspended in midair, only a trickle of ash remained.

'Whoa . . . cool,' Jack breathed. 'I so wish I could do that . . . '

'To her hair,' I agreed. 'Yeah. My high school days would have been a lot more exciting if I could set aflame the honey locks of my Ms. Prescott.'

Um, actually, I can't really deny that my HS days were uneventful . . . what with being pressed against lockers, getting kissed, fighting ghosts, loving them . . . avoiding guys with dark intentions, wanting them . . .

Yeah. I was never exactly bored back then.

'So anyway,' I got back to the topic that I'd wanted to tell him last night, 'You're fine with, erm, your brother and I? Sorry we didn't tell you . . . we just had a some issues to sort out before we were sure.'

Understatement.

'Totally!' Jack said, his attitude changing like lightning when he realized we were focusing on MY love life now, instead of his, 'When did he ask you out? Did he do it while he was leaning on his car? He does that sometimes to try and impress girls – '

'Does he now?' I raised my eyebrows and smirked. 'No, he . . . he didn't ask me out, as such. It's a long and boring story . . . ' Yeah. He didn't ask me out until AFTER he'd slept with me. Backwards gentleman, no? Ugh.

Still looking cheerful, Jack proceeded to probe me about Fortunaschwein's messy details. He sounded like he wanted to start a Suze Fan Club about the time when I mentioned how I died and came back to life.

'Cool . . . ' he breathed in awe. ' That is so freakin' cool . . . '

'Remind me to choke you to death,' I laughed, 'It wasn't THAT cool.'

'What happened then?'

And that Suze Fan Club turned into an INTERNATIONAL SUSANNAH SIMON DAY when I told him I resurrected three ghosts.

Hehe. Wow, I had a groupie.

Still in a state of wonder, Jack followed me downstairs, where he and Mark made us some breakfast – bacon and eggs. Mark and I had a bubbling conversation about Dr. Slaski – his Mr Slater – and what had happened for the past five years.

Mark had taken a twenty-four hour watch on Grandpa Slater now, since he was getting pretty fond of Jack and all. I didn't realize how much support Jack had from Mark, until I saw them joking together in the kitchen when they were cooking up their respective storms.

Mark looked a lot older now. He was about in his early forties. He still had laughing eyes, and was overly friendly. 'So, you and Paul,' he said happily. 'Didn't expect that. You always seemed so reluctant to arrive, and so quick to leave. I recall you practically running out of the house a few times.'

Practically? I WAS running out. And not just a few times . . . every single time. I wasn't exactly thrilled to get my life turned upside down with every lesson Paul gave me.

However, when his tongue ended up in my mouth, that was a different story.

'Yeah, I was always so grumpy about him tutoring me back in high school,' I agreed. 'I don't think anyone expected that. Still wondering what I've got myself into.'

'Certain death,' Jack said evilly through a mouthful of masticated egg.

- 8 -

I finally hopped out of the shower, and slid into some pink velvety drawstring sweatpants, with a white tank top that had a sprinkle of rhinestones near the V-neck. Seeing as the Slater bathroom insultingly had no hairdryer, I had to go get my own again from Paul's car. Once I was as fully dressed as I could be, I was going to go and call CeeCee up to ask about her urgent request for Paul to purchase the newspaper, but it appeared I didn't have to.

'Suze?'

I stuck my cell phone back in my Kate Spade, and called, 'I'm in the spare room.'

When Paul came ambling in a few seconds later, my heart skipped a beat when I saw them.

'Holy crap,' I gasped.

In his hand, was a bouquet of stunning lilac carnations. I smiled very broadly, and grabbed them off of him. They smelt amazing. I mean, I'm not exactly green-thumb-having, but I KNOW gorgeous flowers when I see them.

'You like them?' Paul looked relieved. 'I was going to get roses, but . . . that is too cliché for my liking. Carnations get far too downplayed, I reckon.'

'They're amazing,' I said happily. I was glad he hadn't got roses. They had been Cole's trademark. It was as if Paul knew that . . . which he couldn't have.

I suppressed a shudder as I reflected back on the time Cole had sent me those blood red roses with the chilling note attatched.

However, I felt the urge to point out something.

'I know why you didn't get roses,' I sniggered. 'Last time you sent me roses, you screwed up my feet. Too many embarrassing memories linked to that, I suppose?'

His ears went ever so slightly pink, and he scowled at me. 'That is beside the point.'

With a turbo-watt glee, I beamed at him anyway. 'I like carnations too,' I agreed. 'They beat roses any day.'

'Yeah,' Paul went into the bathroom, got one of the clear vases there, pulled a candle out of it, and filled it halfway with water, ''Well, I've got some bad news. Not BAD as such,' he went on, taking the carnations from me and putting them in the vase, taking a moment to admire them before he nodded with satisfaction, 'But enough to get me really mad . . . '

'Um,' I replied, not really sure what to say, 'Have anything to do with the paper that CeeCee called you up about?'

Paul stared at me. 'How'd you know - ? Oh. Jack. Yeah, that's it . . . '

'U.S.A Government decided that all lawyers on the globe are to be exterminated?' I guessed randomly.

Paul cracked a smile, but shook his head, looking grim. 'Nah . . . ' he shook his head.

I sat on the bed and sighed. This really wasn't going to be good, was it?

He pulled a copy of the Los Angeles Times out of his jacket, and shoved it under my nose. I took it, and read carefully.

' . . . Oh.'

'Yeah,' Paul agreed. 'Oh.'

It seemed that the media was determined to hunt down all the little details about Danielle Moore's death that they could. A lot of it, however, they'd obviously made up . . .

The basic gist went something like this:

Paul Slater, a "latest fling" of hot-shot model Danielle, rented out an old boarding school in Gilroy for a secret getaway. Some mutual friends had been invited to come along. It said that this group had been seen at a local McDonalds, and there was a lot of tension between Paul and Danielle. Later that night at a club, Danielle's "man" was seen dancing with "another woman," who was discovered to be one of the aforementioned "mutual friends." Mere days later, Danielle's body was discovered in a cold shower. It was revealed that she'd killed herself by overdosing on pills, which all up, contained a massive amount of codeine. It was assumed that this suicide was brought on by heartbreak, as the press believed that boyfriend Paul Slater was having an affair . . .

It went on and on, slandering the HELL out of Paul.

Briefly mentioned was the fact that Dani's body had been transported back to England for a patriotic memorial service and a private funeral with family and fellow fashion gurus. There it was continued on a later page, talking about Dani's rise to stardom before it had come to a crashing stop. There was a discussion of "rumors" about how and why people think she killed herself. It mentioned STUPID little facts about Fortunashwein, like how the graveyard was completely destroyed when locals say "it had not been like that previous to Danielle's stay there."

. . . What the hell WAS this?

'That's a load of bullshit!' I said very angrily. 'They had NO evidence of all of that. It didn't mention anything about her bulimia, for one thing! You broke up with her that night that - that we . . . you know - '

'I know the facts, Suze,' Paul said coldly. He looked almost as mad as me. 'If they have had named you though, there'd be a LOT more dead bodies being shipped to England at the moment . . .'

'God,' I was MAJOR pissed off. I scanned the words again, feeling my blood boiling. 'What they said about you was SO out of line - '

He sat beside me, and groaned. 'What a freakin' mess. I guess we forgot about the press side of things . . . Dani being who she was, I mean. Of course they're going to be unsatisfied with her killing herself for no reason. They had to make up excuses for it.'

'Yeah, they didn't have to make you look like a womanizing man-slut,' I spat. 'They know nothing about you!'

Paul gave me a dry smile. 'That's not the only paper, according to CeeCee. She said one of them stated that we're still all suspects for murder, which, ironically, is at least the CLOSEST to the truth, huh.'

I gave him a sympathetic look, and rubbed his arm. 'It's just a story.'

'Now I've got a reputation, though,' he growled. 'As a lawyer, that's not the best thing. A client of mine would probably think I'm sleeping with his wife, or some shit like that . . . God, this is so – ' he broke off, and released a grunt of pent-up rage. 'Media-decreed reputations are really hard to change. Any celebrity can tell you that.'

'What are we going to do about it?' I asked. 'I mean . . . we can't tell them the whole truth. Can we tell half of it?'

Paul looked at me, and smoothed his hand over my cheek, not looking quite as angry. Then, his face hardened again, and he looked away. 'For a start, I'm going to call up this fucked up newspaper.'

'You can sue them, right?' I checked. 'I mean . . . that was defamation of character, right?'

'Bloody hell it was,' he took the newspaper in his hands again, read it, repeated some of the offending lines, and then threw it across the room. The pages all separated immediately, spreading across the floor in an organized chaos. It littered the once spotless room, serving as a metaphor to Paul's newly tarnished rep.

'I'm sorry,' I said to him. 'That shouldn't have happened to you, on top of everything . . . '

He slid his hand into mine. 'It's not your fault,' his look softened.

I was frustrated at the ignorance of people, and at the world. They had no idea what Paul went through after Dani's death, a few moments prior to her death . . . even in Dani's life.

I mean, he had to watch her as she practically deteriorated right in front of his eyes. She not only took out her misery on her own body, she also took it out on Paul. He thought it was HIS fault. And JUST when he was starting to realise it wasn't, the WORLD now thought it was his fault.

People just SUCK sometimes, don't they?

The paper didn't see any of that. In fact, it just served to make a scandal out of her death . . . it made him feel more guilty and more responsible than ever.

'I know it's not my fault,' I told him, giving his hand an affirming squeeze. 'It's not yours either.'

'This is going to follow me forever, Suze. Like a ghost, if you will.'

I pulled away for a moment and searched his eyes for their meaning. 'What makes you say that?' I asked.

Paul immediately looked away. 'Just when I thought I was over it all,' he sighed, 'it came back like this. I have a feeling it will continue to happen this way, as long as Dani's fame outlives her. It could have been the other way around. Dani could have outlived her fame, if I had been there.'

'I don't think so. Just because we deal with the dead, doesn't mean we can prevent their deaths from happening,' I reasoned. 'That's not our job. We're liaisons, not heroes, Paul.'

'You turned out to be a hero,' he stated.

I blinked. 'No I didn't. I didn't do anything remotely heroic. And by the way, I'd be a heroine, not a hero. I have tits, not pecs.'

'Nothing heroic my ass,' Paul eyed me seriously. 'You came back all the way from the dead to save the day. And from what you told me . . . sounds like it took a little effort to do that.'

Yeah. I'd filled him in about what happened after I was strangled. You know . . . the darkness, and the endless pain . . . and then the light.

'Well,' I retorted, 'You saved me from drowning. So there.'

'You saved me from my bikie buddies in the chapel,' Paul countered smoothly.

'You saved me from that fire when I tried to exorcize the Misfortunates,' I argued.

'You saved me from dying in that last fire in the ballroom,' Paul replied, smug. 'Right after Jesse did,' he added with some embarrassment.

'You saved me from Cole,' I spluttered.

'You saved yourself from him,' Paul raised his eyebrows. 'When I got there, he'd been knocked out. You obviously were giving what you were getting, Suze. Even if your giving was of the shifting variety.'

I paused.

Paul continued, though. 'If you ever wanted a hero, Suze . . . you didn't need one. You had yourself. You were the only one who could have saved you. And you did. Sure, I helped with the little temporary threats on your life – so did de Silva – but in the end, who was it that really pulled you out of the shadows?'

He smirked.

'You.'

Feeling a little odd, I stared at him.

And then I smiled a little too, understanding what he meant.

'You saved me, too,' Paul added quietly. 'You just don't know what from . . . '

'Right,' I said, steering the conversation away from me, 'so what are you doing today then?'

'Well,' Paul answered pointedly, 'I was hoping to spend it with you . . . why? Are you planning to make yourself too busy for me, Ms. Simon?'

'Anything's better than you. Especially watching paint dry. Exhilarates the hell outta me, ya know? And growing grass. Now THERE'S a killer pastime, right there – '

However, it was then when he leaned right forward, and kissed me.

Caught off guard, my eyes flew wide open momentarily, until they slowly drifted closed.

Oooh . . . this was nice . . .

Pulling back from the unexpected, yet teasingly soft kiss, Paul just smirked at the goo that was now oozing all over the spare bed. Goo that was formerly Susannah Simon, I mean.

'Entertaining enough for you?' he quirked an eyebrow.

I said something incoherent, before coughing loudly, and blushing.

He laughed at me. 'Well, Susie, I have to go make some calls. To Dani's family, for one. And also, to this damned newspaper,' he added darkly, throwing a dirty look in the direction of the messy papers on the ground. 'And,' he went on still, 'I've got to call someone back . . . they were going to tell me what's happening as far as Cole Kennedy's trial's going.'

'W-what?' I spluttered on my own saliva, COMPLETELY thrown.

Paul smiled encouragingly. 'Don't worry,' he said.

'Uh,' I shook my head after a second, 'I'm gonna go stop by my home, all right? Just to let my family know I'm still alive – ha, funny how loosely I use that expression, haha – '

'Okay,' he confirmed. 'I'll meet you there later.'

- 8 -

Ninety-nine Pine Crest Road, my humble abode. I climbed out of my car and walked on the pine-strewn lawn to my front door. It looked as though Andy, in the amount of time I was working, had painted the door a dark forest green. It matched the fresh pine needles that were all over our yard perfectly.

Andy had also installed a nice gold-finished doorknocker that had this antique charm that went perfectly with the old house. I grasped the knocker firmly and gently tapped it against the door and waited a few moments. I heard minor shuffling from the inside of the house.

The door opened, and my own mother, who looked really surprised to see me, greeted me. Before I could even say anything, however, she pulled me into a quick, loving embrace.

'Oh, Susie,' my mom said, 'please come in. You look exhausted.'

'You have no idea,' I said as I let her take my hand and lead me to the plush couch in the living room. I sank down into the chair, and my mom busied herself by fetching me a glass of water.

My forced smile faded dramatically. 'Ah,' I winced a little, 'Yeah . . . that. I can totally explain that. Sort of . . . but not really.'

Mom sighed, and sat in the couch in front of me. 'Dazzle me with your story, Suze.'

I was floored. I didn't really know what to say. I mean, how could I explain to her that the reason I was in Gilroy instead of Canada was because I was doing some Ghostbusting. She'd never buy it, no matter how old I was.

'I . . . well, after the thing that happened at the chapel, we all had this crazy idea. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it but I couldn't because-'

My mom let out a sigh. 'I understand Susie. Believe it or not, I was a spontaneous twenty-three year old myself. I know you're an adult, but you should really tell me about things. You haven't exactly been close in contact since you left Carmel.'

'We didn't go far. Only to – '

'No, Suze. I'm not talking about a few weeks ago. I'm talking about five years ago.'

'Oh.'

I felt really bad for hiding things from my mom. Especially the Cole thing. I wanted to tell her about it so much, but I didn't want to worry her about it.

I looked downward, and clutched my hands together. A wave of guilt washed over me. Lifting my gaze once more, I met her eyes and gave her an intense stare. 'I've hid things . . . because I had things that were too shameful to share with you,' I said after a second.

Her eyes widened. 'Suze - '

'Things that I thought would make you look at me in a different way. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that you'd not love me as much just because I made a couple of mistakes. I'm an idiot. Well, I was. I'm not anymore. I don't want to hide stuff from you now,' I finished. 'Still wanna hear what I have to say?'

She gave me a patient look. 'Of course . . . '

'I'm sorry,' I said first off. I was more sorry than I could have expressed.

Of course, this would have seemed like the perfect time to have told her about the Mediator thing.

But really, was there ever a perfect time for that?

I reckoned that that always was, and always would be, my burden alone to bear. It was my secret, my hidden identity, my responsibility, my curse and my gift. There was a reason that Shifters and Mediators couldn't be so easily picked out from the crowd. We were meant to remain out of sight from society, silently doing the work that we had been born to do.

Paul and I sure had our work cut out for us.

I took a huge breath, and looked her in the eyes again. My heart was thudding. I was scared to say the words, but at the same time, relieved.

'You know that guy I was dating?' I began croakily.

'Yes,' Mum nodded, her gaze riveted on me. 'Cole.'

I smiled grimly. ' . . . Cole. There's . . . stuff I didn't tell you about him.'

Well, I sure told her then. I told her all of it. All the way from Massachusetts to Gilroy. Ghost-stuff was skipped, of course. But everything single thing where Cole was concerned, I spilled all the grisly details. The alcohol, the hitting, the yelling, the near-rape encounters. I relived all the words I said. Mum was a silent listener. She didn't interrupt me. She ended up lowering her gaze halfway through, before putting her head in her hands.

Finally, I finished off my story, telling her that he had been arrested, finally. He was going to court. He was going to be out of my life. He was going to jail, and I was going to put him there.

I was going to testify.

'So,' I said a little shakily, 'How's that for a bedtime story, huh?'

Mum's eyes, warm and tear-filled, snapped back up to me. She brushed her curls away from her face. 'Suze . . . oh, baby . . . '

And then, she launched herself at me and pulled me into a fraught hug, holding me very dearly. I could feel the side of her face against mine. It was wet. 'I love you so much . . . ' she said very firmly. 'You should have told m – '

'I know,' I whimpered. I was crying too. Wow, when had THAT started? 'I know . . . I was stupid, I thought that – I was wrong. I was too proud to tell you. I wanted to try and fix it like it never happened, but then it just kept getting bigger, and bigger – '

My mother's arms were even more comforting than Jesse's or Paul's. I hadn't known them as long as I'd known Mum. For eighteen years, her arms had protected me. For five years, my own feeble arms had been my only protectors. But now, I remembered how warm my mum's hugs felt. I remembered it all. I remembered that thing called "family," that thing I'd been distancing myself from for so long. I remembered that, even though I might have been in trouble, mum wouldn't have judged me. She would have just loved me unconditionally. It was in her job description; she couldn't help herself but love me.

It was only now, that I remembered that.

'You're my baby girl, Susie . . . ' Mum moved back on the couch, and I curled up against her. 'Never forget that. You're mine. And I'm always here for you.'

She stroked my hair softly. 'So he's . . . definitely not going to hurt you anymore?' she checked gingerly.

I shook my head. 'Nope. No more. It's over. He's either going to jail, or a psycho ward. Whichever will take him, I don't care.'

Mum didn't answer for several minutes. We just sat in this content silence. It was like this connection, that had been severed for so long, had finally been brought back together. And I felt warm.

She spoke, finally. 'I've missed you, Susie.'

'Me too,' I whispered.

'I don't want to miss you anymore.'

'Yeah. I think I've had a bit of a wake up call,' I smiled delicately. 'I'm not going to waste time anymore.'

We were quiet again. Then, she said, in an almost comical voice, 'So, you got anything else you want to drop on me?'

I grinned, and sat up slowly, hugging my knee to my chest. 'Well . . . if you insist. For a nice start, you remember CeeCee Webb?'

Mum nodded. Hah, you would have never guessed that a minute earlier, we'd been bawling our eyes out. Now, we looked like we'd been discussing our favourite shade of lipstick the whole time. 'Yes, your albino friend. She was lovely.'

'Yeah, well, she came on this thing with me too . . . minor detail. Major detail: she and Adam got married.'

Mum's eyes widened in delight. 'You're kidding! Oh wow, Suze, that's wonderful!'

I beamed. 'Yeah. Registry office. But they're going to have a proper wedding, otherwise Father Dominic will smite their firstborn. And Cee's making me Maid of Honour,' I added as a side note, with a smug little smirk.

She looked beside herself with joy. 'Those two . . . well, we knew they'd do it some day. You always told me how she was all over Adam in high school.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Tell me about it.'

'So, anything else you want to share?'

I considered. 'Do you remember Paul Slater?'

Mum's cheeks went a little red. 'Yes, him. He had a big crush on you. Brad always used to tell me, in not-so-pleasant terms. He was the good-looking one that tutored you, right?'

Tutored. Hah. Yeah, in all things NOT academic.

'Er, yeah,' I muttered. 'Well, he – '

'Oh, I heard,' Mum looked appalled. 'That business with Danielle Moore, the supermodel. Poor Paul.'

I grumbled a bit. 'The stuff in the paper is all crap,' I said fiercely.

'They said he cheated on her,' Mum sighed. 'Well, that much I wouldn't put past him, but all the rest – '

'Mum!' I scowled, 'Let me finish.'

She closed her mouth, looking a little guilty.

'Well,' I said, 'After hearing you think he's a man-slut, I'm not too sure I – whatever. He didn't cheat on Dani. Trust me. Although, if he had have cheated on her with anyone, it would have been me.'

Mum took a few seconds to process this. When she did, she looked at first alarmed, and then confused. 'What do you mean? Is that hypothetical, or – '

'We're dating,' I murmured. 'Him and Dani, funnily enough, were also on the trip. I was the one that . . . found her.'

Mum got her Oh-my-wouldn't-Carmel-love-to-know-THIS-tidbit! glazed look, but then remembered that even though she was a newsreader, she couldn't sell out her own daughter. 'You found – after she'd . . . you found her?'

I nodded uncomfortably. 'Yeah. You did miss the point, though.'

'What was the point?' asked Mum, dazed.

'That I'm now in a relationship with Paul Slater,' I clued her in.

She frowned, still coming to terms with the whole Dani thing. Then, she was all, 'Oh. Oh! Suze, that's gr – ' she broke off, looking uncertain. 'Are you sure it's the best thing to do? Jump into another relationship, after . . . him?'

I shook my head. 'Probably not. I don't think anything's the best thing to do after that. But Paul really loves me. And I love him. It's not just something we're testing out, to see if we can hit it off or something. We're pretty serious about each other.'

Yeah. I completely came back from the dead to save his life, and everything. I'm totally committed.

Mum smiled warmly. 'Then that's all right. I feel better, having actually met him. Does he, erm . . . ' she winced a little, 'use as much hair gel these days?'

I snorted loudly. 'No.'

'Oh,' she looked relieved. 'That's good to know. He used to love himself a bit, didn't he.'

'Good observational skills,' I said easily. 'Doesn't worry. I think in this period of five years, scientists have alerted him that, contrary to his previous belief, he was not the center of the universe. He's better for it. He's grown up,' I finished. 'And I really do love him . . . '

Yeah, after what WE'VE been through, I should think so.

Mum smiled wistfully. 'I can tell. You have that look in your eyes,' she told me.

'Really?'

'Uh huh,' she nodded. 'I think every woman can recognise that look.'

I remembered back to my identifying of CeeCee's lovesick expression, and grinned.

'Yeah,' I agreed gladly. 'We can, huh.'

- 8 -

'So,' Doc said, 'You use the stuff I gave you? The ghost detecting equipment?'

I shook my head, squinting over the steamy hot bubbles of the hot tub. 'No, sorry.'

He shrugged, with a polite smile. 'That's okay. I didn't think you'd need it anyway. I was more giving it to you just in case you wanted to let CeeCee or Adam use it.'

'Oh yeah,' the possibility dawned on me. 'That would have been smart, huh.'

'It's all right,' Doc went on. He was sitting on a little stool outside the hot tub, a copy of Time Magazine open on his lap. 'I missed you, Suze.'

'I missed you too, buddy,' I gave him a thumbs up.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I . . . had something I wanted to ask you, as a girl, and . . . ' he blushed, 'A sister.'

OOOH. HE WANTED SISTERLY ADVICE. YIPEE!

'Shoot,' I said slyly.

'Well,' he closed Time, looking dreamy, 'There's this . . . girl I like.'

'I guessed as much. I mean, I was equally waiting for a "there's this boy I like," but it didn't come – '

'Shut up,' he said, now looking nervous. 'And she's really pretty. She's funny, and highly intelligent, and loud . . . but I honestly can't see her finding someone like myself attractive,' he concluded glumly.

'Have you talked to her yet?' I asked.

'Yes!' Doc looked excited. 'I asked her if she had the notes from our Theology lecture, and she leant them to me. That conversation went very well.'

'You've only talked to her once?' I was a little dismayed.

'Why? Should I have – ' he stopped. 'I'm not good at this type of thing, Suze. I have no idea what I'm doing. She's so pretty.'

'Forget about that,' I said. 'If she's self-centered, she's not worth you trying. If she's truly a good person, then she'll love your gorgeous red hair, your adorable freckles along with the completely amazing guy that's beneath all that. You're a total catch, Dave.'

I frowned, and tried to put it into Doc-speak. 'Okay . . . there's a 50/50 chance that this female in question will reciprocate your hormonal affections. Based on factors such as appearance and personality, she will make her judgment of you. However, seeing as it is most likely that she will react positively to a good personality than just appearance alone, your odds are a lot higher, seeing as you're awesome.'

I smirked, and continued.

'Long term relationships are a lot more common when couples can relate to each other, rather than relationships that have a basis of only lust. So interaction with female in question is mandatory,' I said, 'as is eventual expression of interest in her. In other words, go get her, tiger. If she doesn't like you, that's completely her loss. And it's nothing to worry about – the right chicky-babe will come along for you.'

'Oh!' he said, 'I've got it now! Wow, us humans are so fascinating, aren't we? Okay – thanks, Suze!' He took his magazine, and scuttled out of the enclosed hot tub area, looking very pleased.

Smiling at my oddball of a step brother, I sank lower into the hot tub, loving how hot the water was and how relaxed I felt already. I was quite impressed with my ever-reliable Shifterific ability to lose any bodily bruising so fast. There were grey-green grazes along my body now, but they weren't nearly as noticeable anymore.

I turned the bubbles off, and closed my eyes, breathing in the wonderful steam.

I took a huge mouthful of air, and dipped my head under the torrid water, staying there for a second by holding onto the hard plastic sides of the tub. The silence was a loud one. I could hear tiny echoes of when I knocked my foot against the side. It was another world of sound, beneath water . . .

When I slid my head, I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. However, it appeared that someone had joined my presence in the spa room.

'Why is it, Miss Simon, that I always seem to catch you whilst you're swimming?'

I opened my eyes quickly, and saw that Paul was sitting on the side of the tub, smirking at me.

'What are you doing here?' I asked quickly.

'Looking for you,' he angled his head. 'Your mom just finished offering her sympathies about Dani, and then proceeded to grill me about "us",' Paul looked a little badgered. 'So, you two have talked, have you?'

'Yeah,' I nodded. 'We caught up. A lot.'

'You told her about Cole,' he continued.

'Uh huh.'

Paul looked around the spa room, an eyebrow raised. 'You're fogging up the glass, Simon,' he pointed out.

'Maybe I should stop breathing,' I suggested. 'That's what always seems to kill me. And besides, that's the same glass door you broke seven years ago, Mister.'

'Hah hah,' his sarcasm was thick, 'Mind if I join you? The lovely Mrs Ackerman already said I could.'

'You got trunks?' I scoffed.

'No, I plan to skinny dip,' he drawled, then rolled his eyes. 'I have boxers, which I hope will suffice.'

'All right,' I scooted over, 'Come in. As long as your boxers don't dissolve in water.'

'Oh, but they do,' he said, tugging his black T-shirt off. I tried very hard to keep my gaze on his face, but I failed miserably. My eyes slid down guiltily to his godly chest, and I wanted more than anything to be running my hands over it again.

He unzipped his jeans, and kicked them into the corner of the room, before climbing over the slightly raised side of the tub. I eyed him intently, as he settled himself into the water beside me.

'It's . . . hot,' he commented.

'That's why they call it a hot tub, genius,' I elbowed him. His arm pushed behind my back till he'd gotten a hold of me, and he slid me along the slippery seat so I was right against him. I squeaked a little.

'There we go,' he said.

'To think, the last time you were in this hot tub, your head was being forced under by Jesse,' I chuckled.

'Hmm,' he didn't sound too fond of this memory.

I rested my head just beside his, against his neck. My hand started sexually harassing his chest slowly, as my fingers traced all over it. I breathed out a whole lot of steam, and then turned my face to kiss the side of his neck a little. He groaned, and his head leaned back a little.

My knee lifted up a little till my leg was resting casually across his beneath the water. Still kissing his neck, with my free hand I jammed the bubble jets back on. He jolted a little - he was sitting directly in front of one, hah. Looking down at me with a dirty look which turned into a smile, he muttered, 'Thanks for the warning, Suze.'

I felt his hands come to my sides as I slid around further so I was soon sitting on my knees, over his lap, kissing the side of his face and along his jaw. Bubbles licked at my back. One of Paul's fingers slid beneath the string of my bikini, and I felt my face burn brightly.

'Whoa,' he said, his voice not as strong as before, 'I'm so thanking your mother for letting me in here. This has got to be the best invitation I've received as of yet.'

I smiled. 'Easy, cheesy.'

His other hand slipped down to rest itself on my hip. He seized my lips with his own and began to kiss me in rhythm with the current of bubbles streaming around us. My mind grew numb with the glory of the many sensations coursing through my body all at once . . . the ones from the jets and the ones Paul himself was giving me.

Somehow, both of Paul's hand had found themselves on the top edge of my bikini bottoms. I felt him play with one of the strings again, as if he were going to pull it out of its knot. I looked at him for a moment, and how the light from inside the hot tub cast a strange glow on Paul's features. His illuminated blue eyes made me wonder if he would do it.

'Bad Paul,' I shook my head at him, pursing my lips. I let go of his shoulder to slap his hands away beneath the water, 'Off!'

He shot me a sizzling half-smile, looking insufferable and so completely hot with water flecked all over the part of his chest that was above the water. His eyes were on fire with mischief, melting the ice.

His hands crept up my back, and he pressed his fingers into various places on either side of my spine. My eyes fluttered closed and I frowned again, flicking my hair away from my face.

With his large hands, he pulled me a lot closer to him so his mouth was able to reach my chest area. He began trailing kisses along my collar bone, on the top of my shoulder, and on the side of my neck. I sighed and gasped accordingly, holding the back of his head and running my hands through his still mostly-dry hair.

He kissed just by my ear, hitting a . . . spot, and I visibly shivered, despite how hot the water was. 'God,' I said. I really didn't think that THIS was the time to be feeling how I felt then. I pulled back a little. 'Okay, a little too good there - '

But he wouldn't. He tugged me right back against him determinedly.

And I'd stop now because . . . ?' he said in a very deep voice against the side of my neck.

'Asshole,' I said huskily.

He laughed evilly, as one of his hands dropped from my shoulder, past the bubbles and ventured almost defiantly till it rested on my thigh. I looked at him questioningly. However, when his fingers tricked down to the inner part of it, I almost died.

'Hey!' my voice was strangled, 'Not here! Paul - ' but his hand went on stroking just between my legs, as he smirked up at me, daring me to tell him to stop.

Getting a little worried at how, um, aroused I was getting, I leaned my head back. Then, with a movement I couldn't have anticipated, I felt Paul urge me backward until I was now sitting down opposite of where he'd been, and he was half over ME.

And he hadn't stopped that thing, either.

It was hard to breathe, with all the steam and my stupid pumping heart. I laughed with a quiet hysteria, before grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him down to kiss him again. There was a splash of confusion as he almost slipped, but I didn't care. Why was he so good at DOING that? I mean - even in my step-dad's hot tub!

Of course, it was at that moment when there was the slamming of the glass door, and then an almighty, 'What the HELL? SLATER - ? HEY, MAN. GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER.'

Paul broke away from me, looking both alarmed and annoyed.

'STEP-sister,' I corrected a very beefy looking Brad who was in his fluro-orange trunks, and had a towel in his hands. 'Do you mind?'

Suddenly, I was starting to remember why I'd distanced myself from this family in the first place.

'I didn't know he was here,' Brad glared at Paul.

All feelings of arousal were being completely replaced by humiliation. The bubbles were still bubbling away noisily. 'Hey, Ackerman,' Paul said, still sounding pissed off, 'Knock at all?'

'I did. You were too busy sucking face with my sister to hear, you – ' Brad then proceeded to call Paul something that I care not to write.

'Hey, Brad, your mum? Yeah, NOT my mum. We're not related,' I said acidly. 'STEP-sister. Say it with me, like they used to teach you in Special Ed, Step­-sis – '

'Whatever,' Brad looked disgustedly over at Paul, and left.

I groaned.

'We just keep getting interrupted, don't we,' Paul smiled wryly, looking as irritated as I felt.

'Yeah,' I said. 'It can't be healthy.'

'Maybe we should just give up on privacy and go back to Fortunaschwein,' Paul suggested. I molded back against him, and sighed, 'Something like that.'

He laughed hollowly, and sighed in equal frustration. 'Want to motel it tonight, Simon?' he grinned down at me, his eyes glinting sinfully.

I blushed quite a lot, and then smiled. 'Good idea.'