a/n: I discovered The Mediator Series and fell in love. 'Nuff said? This is going to be pretty long. It's more or less the series in Jesse's POV. I know, not very original but work with me. I'll try to throw in as many twists as I can while remaining cannon.

Una Vista del Mar

I have watched things change. Roads were paved. Cars came and with them bright lights. A grand red dome was built, hiding the great bells of the mission. Before long even the stars, something I had once thought constant and reliable, dimmed. Time was passing without me and I was but a shadow.

If I've learned anything it's that being dead makes you think. About everything. But one of the biggest questions was why? There had to be a reason I was still here… some mission God wanted me to complete. So, as soon has I came to understand the extent of my powers I began stealing books and reading them. I soaked in everything, trying desperately to keep up with times. There would be a day when I would need this knowledge.

It was during this time that the O'Neil's inn fell into disrepair. I enjoyed the quiet and as morbid as it may seem my favorite place soon became the room in which I had been murdered. In the morning when the fog rolled in the ocean was beautiful. At least that hadn't changed… much.

But then something happened that sent my existence spiraling out of control.

A man came, bringing with him three sons. He was a carpenter, as I soon learned, and he was rebuilding the inn. They were making it their home. What followed was a summer of loud hammering, whirling of saws and the disruption of my peaceful existence. No longer could I enjoy peaceful nights watching the fog swirl, a book in my lap. No, instead I was greeted with the dull smell of dry wall and the raucous noise of working men.

It wasn't long at all before they moved in. The youngest son, David, moved into my room. I had grown so use to my solitude that I had almost forgotten that I was invisible to the living. I do believe I scared the boy on many occasions; seeing books flying across the room seemingly of their own accord does that to people, I hear. And then a woman came. Her daughter would be following shortly they said.

And I wasn't really looking forward to 'meeting' her.

From all that I had heard a juvenile delinquent was soon to replace young David in occupying my room. The youngest Ackerman's possessions were cleared away and replaced with a canopy bed, princess telephone and glass-topped dressing table. And then there were the forget-me-nots plastered on the wall. They seemed a bit feminine for a juvenile delinquent but many things had changed since Carmel, 1850.

When the daughter finally arrived I wasn't really surprised. She even looked the part. Straight dark hair, pale skin, ripped pants and leather jacket; what did these girls wear these days? If any woman in my time had worn that she would have been taken for a prostitute.

Yet, I was surprised. The girl smiled sweetly all through her mother's lecture of starting a new life. She seemed sincere, a little rueful and sad. When her mother left she quietly shut the door behind her and stood there for a moment. I was beginning to wonder if she was okay when…

The girl whirled and scowled, "All right. Who the hell are you?"

To say I was surprised was a great understatement. In all my years nobody, nobody, had been able to see me. I even turned around wondering if somebody had climbed up outside my window. No, just good old Carmel-by-the-sea as usual.

And then it set in.

"Nombre de Dios."

"It's no use calling on your higher power," she said as-matter-of-factly, straddling a pink-tasseled chair by the table, "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for- What is it, a hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?"

I could only stare at her blankly.

"What is… croaked?" My voice was rusty from disuse.

The delinquent rolled her eyes. "Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust. Died."

"Oh, died." My brain was churning. Maybe it was now. Maybe now was the time to put my one hundred and fifty years of purgatory to the test. I shook my head. Maybe the girl was the answer to my prayers. Maybe she would help me fulfill my purpose.

"I don't understand. I don't understand how it is that you can see me. All these years, no one has ever…"

The girl cut in, "Yeah, well, listen, the times, you know they are a-changin'. So what's your glitch?"

I got the times are changing, bit. I had already known that. But…

"Glitch?"

I notice the girl looking me up and down. "Yeah," she said, clearing her throat and swallowing. "Glitch. Problem. Why are you still here? Why haven't you gone to the other side?"

How could I answer that when I didn't even know? I decided to play dumb. I shook my head, "I don't know what you mean."

I must have said something that offended her because she snapped, "What do you mean, you don't know what you mean? You're dead. You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off doing whatever it is that happens to people after they're dead. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated or ascending a plane of consciousness, or whatever. You're not supposed to be just… well, just hanging around."

I wasn't exactly sure what hanging around meant but to tell you the truth that, while I had no idea what had gotten me there, I was beginning to realize that I had kind of enjoyed my nights of solitude in my room at Mrs. O' Neil's, reading by my own glow. Why should this girl (who was starting to remind me of my eldest sister) have to change that?

"And what if I happen to like just hanging around?"

She seemed to be at a loss there. After a few moments a look of fixed determination shone in her green eyes. She's quite pretty, I couldn't help thinking in spite of myself.

"Look," she said, jumping up. "You can do all the hanging around you want, amigo. Slack away. I don't really care. But you can't do it here."

"Jesse," I said, not moving. I had a feeling that she had been being sardonic with the whole, amigo remark.

The girl arched a delicately plucked eyebrow. "What?"

"You called me amigo. I thought you might like to know I have a name. It's Jesse."

The girl didn't seem to care and it was starting to frustrate me. Here was the first person I had spoken in one hundred and fifty years and she was insufferable. She simply nodded in a yielding sort of way. "Right. That figures. Well, fine. Jesse, then. You can't stay here Jesse."

Funny, this had been my home for over a century and now she wanted to kick me out? I didn't even know her name.

"And you?" I said, smiling in spite of myself. Yes, the girl was insufferable but she was a person nonetheless and to her I was more than a mere shadow.

"And me, what?" she said rudely.

"What is your name?"

She glared at me, "Look. Just tell me what you want and get out. I'm hot, and I want to change clothes. I don't have time for…"

I interrupted her just as she had interrupted me earlier.

"That woman- your mother- called you Susie. Short for Susan?"

"Susannah, as in, 'don't cry for me.'"

Thankfully some things don't seem to change. I smiled. "I know that song."

She yet again made a comment that made absolutely no sense to me. I kept on smiling.

"So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?"

"Yeah," she said, "Yeah, this is my room now. So you're going to have to clear out."

I raised an eyebrow and the girl scowled. "I'm going to have to clear out. This has been my home for a century and a half. Why do I have to leave it?"

I had gotten to her; her pale face was turning a shade red. She was shaking. Normally I didn't condone the sort behavior I was now exhibiting towards the woman but I was out of my mind with disbelief and wonder. I enjoyed teasing her.

"Because, this is my room. I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."

Cowboy.

Cowboy?

I slammed my food down on the floor and stood. "I am not a cowboy. Maldecirlo. Tu eres una muchacha insufrible."

I had lost my temper and Susannah was backing away slowly. I had definitely forgotten myself.

"Whoa, Down. Down boy."

And I didn't care.

Not really concerned if I offended her or not I jabbed a finger in her face.

"My family worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, never as a vaquero."

I had lost it. The mirror behind me was shaking. I knew I should stop myself but I didn't.

"Hey," she said.

And that's when she did it. She grabbed my finger. I froze, not hearing what she was saying. She had touched me. That was impossible. I had accepted the possibility that this girl could speak to me, but to touch me. And how warm her skin felt; I had not felt the warmth of another human being in a very long time.

"Now, look, Jesse. This is my room, understand? You can't stay here. You've either got to let me help you get where you're supposed to go, or you're going to have to find some other house to haunt, I'm sorry that's the way it is."

She said it slowly, enunciating each word. My finger burned.

The girl wasn't a delinquent or even remotely like my sister.

She was something else.

"Who are you? What kind of… girl are you?"

Susannah seemed to look hurt for a moment but then quickly shook her head. "I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not. I am not the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite six. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you time to think about it. But when I get back here Jesse I want you gone."

And with that she turned around and left, leaving me standing there staring at my finger. It ached with forgotten memories.

Oh, yes, I have watched things change. Roads have been paved. Cars have come and with them bright lights. A grand red dome has been built, hiding the great bells of the mission. Before long even the stars, something I had once thought constant and reliable, had dimmed.

But all things had changed with out me.

I was beginning to think that now, I too, was along for the ride.

a/n: review please!