Disclaimer: Not Meg Cabot. Not even a Meg. Definately not a Cabot.

I apologize for the long wait on this chapter. I want to update every week but I had some trouble wiriting this one and it took me longer than expedted. School has started again so as usual, my brain is slowly melting to a puddle of goo.

This is THE chapter where everyone wil finally learn...dun dun dun...What Did She Do? However, don't over asses. The Paul part of this chapter was the difficult section because I realized the Paul in my mind is not quite who Meg wrote him to be. Don't we all wish we could just bend the characters to our will? Wait, that's what fanfic's for!

So here it is and hopefully the next chapter will be up next weekend. I am very adament about the pairings in the Mediator and I think that will show through soon. Also...you have been warned: There is mild Tree Abuse in this chapter! Avert your eyes if it is too painful!

I spent the rest of the day walking. I've never walked so much in my life. I must have shed all the accumulated pounds from my lumberjack special and then some. While my feet protested the rest of me had no problem wondering aimlessly without any direction. The sun overhead did little to lighten my mood but at least provided a nice golden haze to the surrounding world.

It felt good to just do nothing. I didn't have to think about anything or talk to anyone. I could just enjoy living in Carmel, California. It really was a nice town, with its quaint stores and primly cut lawns. Everywhere you looked was a postcard scene waiting to happen. I could finally enjoy everything I had really taken the time to notice.

I had strolled out of the main part of town, down a few side roads and now found myself walking alongside an open field. There were random trees scattered across the expanse of green grass sea. While the road ahead looked tempting, a nice cozy rest beneath a great oak would do me well. My backpack was slowly growing heavier. I could feel my skin becoming slightly crisp from the overhead sun.

I walked off the asphalt road and onto the bumpy ground covered in grass. I didn't know whose property this was but there were no signs so I boldly walked out to the middle. Stopping at the biggest tree I let my bag fall from my shoulders and slumped down against its rough yet comfortable trunk. The ground beneath was squishy yet comfortable and the air had a faint sweetness to it to was relaxing and refreshing at the same time.

I felt so drained. Part of my fatigue must be the walking. But I'm sure the previous night and day's events held the most blame. I didn't want to dwell on it, didn't want to think of any it. I wanted to detach myself from everything real and consequential. I wanted to dissolve into a bubble that contained only this friendly tree and me.

Only then could my stressed brain even begin to understand what exactly had occured. But of course, that had as much chance of happening as going back in time and erasing everything I'd done. Nope…there was no protective bubble. There was just me and Mr. Tree…and a lot of grass. I looked across the field wondering exactly how many blades were growing here.

Everything was so green.

The biggest difference was his green bedspread. I noticed it right away because it was such a random splash of color in the otherwise completely gray room. I sat down on that bedspread, feeling the soft mattress sink ever so slightly from my weight. From this angle I could take full advantage of the room's gorgeous ocean view. People spend their entire lives slaving away and save for retirement at some resort where they can have this view and he gets it for free at age seventeen.

I felt so energized from the positive response of my speech that I just laughed and fell back, letting myself bounce a little as the bedsprings reacted. I could hear him downstairs, getting drinks and zapping something in the microwave. After all that worrying, it felt good to be here. I was going to learn something new…something about me from someone who was like me.

Nothing bad had happened. I was having a good time. That car ride had been way too much fun, but in a good way. Flying down the road in six hundred horsepower leather interior and those three little letters that made it even better: B M W. I wondered vaguely what that stood for. Maybe 'Brings many women'. Or 'Big Man's Wheels'. I giggled to myself.

He appeared in the doorway, "What's so funny?" he asked, "I know my room's kind of plain, but it's got a nice view." I let my eyes go slowly from his feet to head, noticing the dark washed jeans, the tight fitting polo, and the bowl of popcorn in hand.

He seemed nice enough.

I shook my head, hard. No…no I would not think of yesterday. I would not think of what I did yesterday. Right now I was getting reacquainted with good old' Mother Nature. There was no need to bring BMWs and evil glass houses into the wonderful one-on-one time I was getting with Mr. Tree.

I need a shrink. Seriously.

I looked up through the tree branches that hung high above me, peering through holes between leaves and twigs. There was the great blue sky. It mirrored the vastness of the grass field, only illustrating more wonder and different color. Puffs of pearly clouds floated lazily on their way up north.

I wish I were a cloud. I could just float in the sky all day without a care in the world. No mistakes to make, no relationships to ruin. I would be completely carefree, seeing the entire world from a bird's eye view. I would float over countries, continents and oceans. I could see everything.

And when a stupid girl was playing tonsil hockey with someone she claimed to completely loath with every fiber of her being I would simply laugh from my place in the high sky. If I felt like it, I could rain down on her and drench her in water, shocking her enough to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

Of course, the chances of that girl cheating on a one hundred-fifty year old Hispanic hottie who happened to be dead were about a zillion to one.

But it wouldn't matter because I would be a cloud.

See what I mean about the shrink? Yeah… exactly.

I lay there for a long time, starring wishfully as the clouds past by. They seemed too close, like I could just reach out and touch them. But in reality they were father away than I could ever even hope to reach, like my heart. That was gone now, a million miles elsewhere. It abandoned me the moment I stopped thinking. My heart knew what a terrible person I was, it didn't see the need to stick around and pump blood through someone who didn't deserve to live.

I was wondering how someone like me could be living now that they were without a heart. It seemed like a medical marvel. I should go enroll myself in some scientific study so they can learn more about people without hearts. Then I can tour high schools, warning girls like me not to give in to temptation. It all seemed so boring, not half as boring as being a cloud. Maybe that's why I fell asleep.

He put the book down and stared at me. I smiled shyly, wondering what was so intriguing that he felt the need to stop reading about something as fascinating as 'astral projection'. Maybe I had something on my face! Oh my God! Now would be the absolute worst time for a zit to appear!

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, my voice extremely high. He shook his head, getting up from his chair and sitting beside me on the bed. I tensed up slightly, and I'm sure my cheeks were now making another color of the spectrum present in his green and gray room. I could feel his body heat though he had yet to make physical contact with me.

"You know Suze," he spoke in a whisper, leaning close to me and maintaining eye contact. Let me tell you, the eye contact in itself was enough to make me shiver – partly from his close proximity, and partly because I was starring into the bluest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. Father Dom had blue eyes, but not like these. Every shard of his iris resonated and pulsed blue. They were like sapphires – I'm sure every guy wants to hear their eyes look like sapphires – and they were reading me like a book. "I didn't mean to leave you up in Shadowland. I was going to help you. Then that Jesse DeDorko had to punch me and I couldn't exactly see straight and…I'm sorry."

He said the last bit with his chin tucked down, looking up at me through extremely long eyelashes. They were so perfectly separated and curled at the ends that I absently wondered if he wore mascara.

I stared at him. He looked so sincere. Yet, it was funny that he would randomly bring that up. After repeatedly discussing this matter with Jesse so many times over the past few weeks I had come to the conclusion that my life had been in mortal peril and the guy sitting before me had done nothing to save it.

But that look in his face, the honesty and the obvious need to find forgiveness surprised me. After his denial of 'almost killing me' by leaving me up in Shadowland, these were the words any decent person would have said. He wasn't a decent person, was he? Since when did I attribute morality and decency with him? But his face, and the way he was sitting near me, and the 'no touch' zone he'd agreed to all made me start to believe him.

"I was really scared," I told him. Confiding more vulnerability than I felt comfortable sharing. But hiding it would have been useless because I'm sure those eyes would have seen it anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said, this time speaking right into my ear, "I didn't want to scare you."

That's when I felt his hand on my back, gently rubbing it at first then pressing slightly as he leaned in to kiss me. I felt the kiss, like a jolt of electricity shocking me awake. This tasted so new, so…minty. He must have brushed his teeth recently. But still it was a nice kiss and after a while I responded. I couldn't just sit there and let the guy suck on my lips.

His other hand found my arm and he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin on the inside of my elbow. It was kind of random I guess. I don't recall ever reading that guys like the inside of girls' elbows. But it felt nice all the same so I didn't think too much on it. I was too busy trying to navigate around the numerous senses going haywire. My sense of touch was skyrocketing as I felt every square millimeter where he was touching me erupt in a mixture of delight and awe.

Then he was guiding me into a horizontal position, still keeping one hand on my back. I way lying on the bed again, my head set between two huge pillows. I let my arms wander experimentally up his buff biceps. They were so hard and smooth and…yum. The hand of his that had been rubbing my elbow's inner side moved up so it was at the back of my neck, lifting my head up to deepen the kiss.

I couldn't wrap my mind around the effect his kiss was having on me. It was like I could feel him…psychologically. The want in and desire he was emanating was breathtaking – literally and figuratively. There were seconds when I swear he was trying to swallow me, desperately trying to hold on to this moment. Probably because of the numerous times I had cut similar encounters short. We had not parted once for air.

His tongue knocked at the door to my mouth and I permitted entry. At the same I allowed my hands to move inward across his chest. If I thought his arms felt good they were nothing compared to pure God-like sculpture of his pecks and abdomen. Damn his chest felt good. I felt him smile against my lips as I roamed across the masculine expanse created by what must be a very disciplined daily workout.

In return I allowed his hands to move from their positions. One worked to keep him slightly elevated over me, to ensure I could still breath although I was definitely not getting the American Board of Health's recommended oxygen quota right now. The other hand, sneaky little thing, was finding it's way under my shirt. I could feel his warm fingers slowly crawling across the hem and finally making contact with my own abdomen.

I felt it was only fair that my hands begin an exploration of what lies beneath his Ralph Lauren Polo. So they did, and what they found was the most chiseled six-pack any guy - or girl - could ever hope for. Of course, that made his hand slide way up, cupping the lacey under wire of my bra.

I gasped, not sure what to do. I did not plan for this to happen. When he said we'd talk about 'shifting' I thought he'd meant shifting. I do not recall any tonsil hockey or foreplay mentioned in our agreements. But when he started…um…massaging the contents of that lacey under wire bra and a certain feeling erupted in my head, I decided I was quite fine with our new plans.

His hands felt so warm where they touched me. I had never been this close to another person before. But to feel this in-tune with such a... attractive guy was new for me. I was Suze Simon, the freak who could see ghosts. But knowing that he could see ghosts too was overwhelmingly comfortable. The biggest barrier of my life, that ever-looming wall that set me apart from everyone else was nonexistent with him.

Because he was like me.

The hand that had been holding him above me moved a little so it was entangled with my pre-curled hair. I felt his fingers playing with several locks around my ear, while his lips moved down to my neck. That felt good, way too good. I must admit that a small tiny, slightly embarrassing but ever so justified moan escaped my lips. My hands were now locked behind his neck and slowly raking through his too-soft hair.

I felt his knee move in between my thighs as his lips dipped lower and lower. I was spinning, careening into a force of utter bliss that seemed completely unattainable before. As he was kissing that bare skin just above the neckline of my shirt he paused to look up at me. His blue eyes – so blue, much too blue to be considered anything but incredible – gazed into me with a look of complete and utter honesty. I saw no lies there, no deceit, none of the evil actions and intentions I'd previously accused him of having.

There was also respect displayed in those rings of endless blue. Respect for me as he parted his lips to speak, "You are so beautiful, Simon," I inhaled deeply, trying to swallow his words so I could keep them inside me forever. His voice was barely more than a whisper but I heard him loud and clear. I also heard the sincerity. I heard the truthfulness.

He kept looking at me, using the power of silence to convey the feelings he had for me. I felt it all in that one stare. Everything he'd ever said about us being together was all true. No one could look at someone the way he was looking at me and have an evil hidden agenda. This completely scrumptious boy picked me to like, to pine after. He moved to a different state to be near me. While that part was a little freaky, it still had meaning. He pulled his hand out from under my shirt and brought it to the side of my face, cupping my cheek and making soft strokes with his thumb.

He finally closed his eyes and gave me a slow, deep, passionate kiss that had me responding in a way I never knew I could. Did he light a candle recently because I swear the bed was on fire. I was on fire. His hand was back up my shirt in no time as our mouths resumed their earlier actions of intense tonguing. His knee pressed higher in between my legs, intruding on a very forbidden part of my anatomy.

My God it was hot in here! I could feel my temperature increasing with every millisecond that passed by. His knee pressed higher. My head was spinning, I was spinning, and the room was spinning. All these new feelings fought to be processed inside my mind. His knee moved again, sending a pleasing sensation to my body.

In the heat of the moment - as my hands ran through his hair and down the muscles of his back, dragging deep against his skin and his mouth sent trails of fire down my neck and across my collar bone, my lips parted and uttered through a sigh of pleasure, "Oh, Paul," - I thought I might have possibly seen a glimmer of blue out the corner of my eye.

I woke up sweating. For a minute I couldn't remember where I was. There was something rough and hard up against my back and whatever I was sitting on felt slightly damp and squishy. Why was it so bright out? Why did my lip sting? And what was that smell?

Then I realized I was outside. The hard thing was a tree and the ground beneath was a little dewy and the smell was simply that great outdoors scent that I didn't inhale too often. I skipped school; I was outside sitting under s tree.

And I was mad.

My subconscious decided to force me into reliving yesterday's events. I saw them in detail. I could even feel his lips on mine again. And they felt absolutely horrible. Instead of the soft, caring feeling I'd been tricked into receiving I felt dead weight on my lips and blood slipping through the cut because I was biting so hard.

I hated him. I hated him for making me feel that way. The way I'd felt on his bed with him on top of me: so wanted, so pretty. It was like he knew exactly what my low self-esteem was missing. Like he knew that Jesse never made me feel any of those red hot reactions because Jesse never permitted himself to make contact with me anywhere other than…well nowhere.

He'd found my weak spot and used it to get me to give in. He used me. How dare he! He had no right to simply make me feel so wonderful only so it could all come crashing down and make me feel so utterly atrocious. The pain I felt last night as I cried myself to sleep was conjured from the happiness I'd shared with him. To go from being so happy to so guilt ridden and depressed made my head spin out of control.

I was up off that tree, grabbing my bag and kicking a stupid rock that dare lie in my way. If that rock thought it could stop me, it had another thing coming. Of course, my toe was considerably smaller than said rock so I picked it up and hurled it at the tree. Stupid tree!

I trudged across the field, cursing the uneven ground the entire time. When I was back on the road and baking under the sun, I was cursing the sun too. Why did it have to be so freaking hot! I wasn't in the mood for hot. I'd felt enough heat to last me a lifetime. So that damn sun should just scram!

I marched back into town, noticing from the throng of people and cars that I must have slept pretty long. It was now five o'clock judging from the giant sign in front of the Carmel City Bank. I didn't care though. I pushed past people and shoved and grunted and received a lot of that in return. I jaywalked across streets and heard car horns beeping in protest.

But none of that slowed me down. All I could think of was him and that day replaying in mind. Him, giving me everything I'd been denied and making me believe it was all sincere and true. His evil eyes made of frozen ice boring into mine, reading me and knowing in that one look everything I wanted.

And I'd let him. I'd let him take me, mind and heart, away from everything I valued. I'd let him touch me and kiss me and say things that I should never have allowed. All the while he knew what I would face when I got home. He knew that sooner or later I'd feel guilty. But that didn't stop him. He didn't care what happened to me. He just wanted to cop a feel.

My mind was leaving step one of the grieving process – sadness – and heading full speed ahead to the next hurdle: anger. I was no longer depressed and weepy but energized by a red-hot fire searing through me.

Paul is a jerk. I'd known that much when he left me in Shadowland. After he transferred I was even more assured. Paul was a pretty little rich boy who had everything – EVERYTHING – handed to him on a silver platter. He was used to getting his way and never had any problems with anything. He was arrogant, rude, ignorant, conceited, and always – ALWAYS – had a hidden agenda.

I'm not sure whom I was angrier at: him or myself. But right now it felt good to pass the blame to another person. I could make him out to be the most horrible thing I could imagine in my mind if I wanted to. I could erase every good thing I'd thought of him and replace it with the evil truth. I'd blamed myself for everything, but that wasn't entirely fair. It takes two play to that game.

And Paul had been playing right along beside me – or well…on top of me.

After sending a dozen dirty looks to who ever looked my way I finally reached my destination. It was a shady looking shop set in the corner of Main Street Plaza. I'd noticed it a few times, mostly while driving by, because it looked so out of place. It was basically a teenage junk shop. Kind of like Spencer's, but with less Halloween stuff. Normally I wouldn't want anything to do with a store like this. Those days for me were over.

But Paul had awoken a side of me that had been dormant for a very long time. I needed something now, something my mom had thrown away long ago. I don't know what I planned on doing with it exactly. But I just felt the overwhelming urge to feel it in my hands again.

The sign above the store was outlined in a cheap lighting, two letters falling to the left and bird dudu speckling the ground. It was a dump, yes, but hopefully a dump that had what I needed. The entire time spent approaching the shop from across the parking lot allowed my mind to scream out in utter fury at him. Paul was the type of person mothers should warn their daughters about. Not the drug dealing, potty-mouthed, high school dropouts but the good smelling, straight teethed, Ralph Lauren wearing future politicians that were most dangerous to young girls.

I found what I was looking for on display in the glass case by the register. They were lying next to a set of belly-button rings. From the dim overhead light the coating gleamed and sparkled. The multi-pierced boy behind the counter raised an eyebrow at my appearance but said nothing. "How much are the brass knuckles?" I asked him. He used a key to unlock the case and took them out for me. The price tag said thirty-six fifty. I had forty dollars in my wallet that was in my backpack.

"I'll take it," I told him, getting my money out. The kid shrugged and began ringing up the order. I allowed myself fifteen seconds to feel lucky that I'd found what I was looking for. But I was careful to dismiss the thought; for fear of the last time I'd felt lucky.

Stuffed in a box next to the register was a group of key chain Furbys. Those stupid little things that were the biggest selling toy in the country like two years ago. I got one for Christmas the year they came out. All I can remember is how annoying it was. It never shut up, even when the lights went out, and my Furby was stupid because it only ever talked in 'Furbish' and never graduated to English. Needless to say, my Furby found its way into a Salvation Army box not long after February.

But looking at the box of stuffed gremlin-like fur balls I noticed a big gray one with blue eyes. It was starring at me. The rotten little was starring at me with it's big blue eyes as if taunting me, forcing me to think about a certain someone else with big blue eyes. I swear I saw it's mouth turn up in a grin as I glared back.

"Is that all?" the voice of the cashier broke me out of my trance and regarded me questioningly. I'm sure I looked like heck, with my makeup smudged and lip bleeding freely, starring transfixed at a Furby.

"No," I said vaguely, "I'll take this too," I handed him the Furby and he stuffed it in the bag with the brass knuckles. I'm sure my purchase of a child's play thing didn't help my strange actions and appearance. But I really didn't care. I grabbed the bag the minute my change was in my hand and rushed out of the store.

I ran behind the building where I could have some privacy and took both purchases out of the bag. I slid the brass knuckles down my fingers, revving in the feel of cool metal against my skin. I was holding power, the power to inflict serious bodily injury on anyone who might dare to cross me.

Then I took out the Furby and set it above a crate that was stacked against a wall. I lifted my hand, clenched my fist and shot it forward, knocking those stupid blue eyes right out of the Furby's head.

Except in my mind it wasn't a Furby; it was Paul.

There you go. I hope it wasn't too bad. Please review. If you liked it - tell me WHAT you liked. If you didn't - tell me why!