Wow, this story has reached its final chapter. I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed this story. Even if you didn't review, thanks for reading. I would like to point out that I did update a while ago, and got little response. was doing some weired things that day so it's possible that the pages didn't load right. If you haven't read the chapter, The Brightest Shine, please go back and read it because you won't understand what's going on in this chapter. :)

Once again thank you all. Check out the last chapter if you missed it - it's my favorite one - and look for the sequel which I promise will be way better. This story was just the setup.

Happy Summer!

I woke up in an all too familiar bed. The sheets were green and the walls surrounding me were gray. Sun light poured in through glass windows. There wasn't a single item littering the floor or one book on the shelf out of place. I was in Paul's room, in his bed.

Thankfully, Paul was nowhere to be found. I rolled over and pulled the blanket up past my head. Glass windows let in way too much sunlight. The light managed to creep through the green material of the blanket. Tiny green peepholes allowed small slivers of lights to push mutedly through. It reminded me of yesterday's sunset, when so much had set on my life.

Jesse left – no, not left…moved on. The day I'd dreaded for so long came at the most unexpected time. But his parting words left the biggest impact on me. He forgave me. He even told me I'd done nothing wrong. While I wasn't sure I could agree with that, knowing we parted on good terms was comforting.

It didn't take away the sting though. The ebbing pinch that I knew was only in temporary remission. The fact that when I went home today, Jesse wouldn't be there. And when the night air blew through my window and chilled my room, Jesse wouldn't close it. Jesse was gone.

Because of me. He said it was a good thing. After one hundred and fifty years of only partial existence, I guess in a way it was a good thing. It just sucked that the good thing for Jesse was a bad thing for me. God how selfish am I? The guy I had cried my heart out over was granted everything he deserved – which was long over due – and I'm here complaining about how it affects me.

Frustrated I blew the blanket off my face and rolled over. I could vaguely remember Paul carrying me up the beach to his house sometime last night when I had cried myself out. I'd been so tired, mumbling incoherent words of sadness. But Paul gently picked me up and brought here – where he must have put me to sleep in his bed.

It was a good thing too, because high tide comes in at night and if I was left alone there, I don't think I would have found the strength to move myself.

I wiped away the tear that had managed to dribble from my eye. Jesse moving on wasn't something to cry about. It was something to celebrate. He deserved this. After years and years of purgatory, Jesse was finally resting where he belonged – in Heaven.

I sighed and swallowed the lump in my throat. Even with my ability to see ghosts, I was not granted the power to bring them back to life. Why then was I allowed to befriend them?

Life without Jesse was going to take some getting used. But even so, I could do it. I had a life before Jesse and I could have life after him. Jesse changed my life, for the better. Now I had to go out into the world and embrace it.

Yeah right.

I groaned, slowly rising from the bed. I stumbled a bit at first, as the blood started pumping in my legs. By the time I was fully vertical the sun was blazing full force into the room. I had to lift my arm to shield my eyes. How Paul managed to withstand this every morning I have no clue. Sure the view was magnificent, but you couldn't exactly appreciate the view if your retinas were burning.

As I moved out of the room my sensibility caught up with me and I realized how awkward this was. The last time I was in Paul's house we'd nearly made it to third base. Now I was creeping silently through his hallways all by myself. There was no pleasure in my being here.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs, not sure if I could handle meeting him down there. After all we'd been through, my feelings for Paul were still confusing. My mind wasn't strong enough to sort them out right now. I'm sure he had a lot of things to say to me, but I had no clue how I was going to respond to any of them.

What do I say to him? Should I thank him for last night? What if he talks first, what if he's mad at me for punching him? What if he says something about Jesse? My God if he so much as mutters an 'I told you so' I'll give a second bruise to match the first.

Taking a deep breath I slowly made my way downstairs. Even the stairs were made of concrete, no carpet, nothing. My bare feet were freezing. I tiptoed towards the bottom. Maybe if I was lucky, he'd be in the living room, or the bathroom and I could just sneak out without him noticing.

No such luck. The stairs ended in the kitchen, where Paul was sitting on one of the stools surrounding the marble top island. His hands were clasped in front of him and he appeared deep in thought. I couldn't help but notice the rumpled state of his hair, yesterday's clothes still on him, or the wide, blazingly visible bandage taking up half his face.

Seeing that made me flinch. Paul might have put me into depression for several days but he never laid a hand on me – in an abusive way of course. I had no right to go and maim his face. He didn't deserve that. Especially when I'd given him no warning, and he'd just been trying to soothe me.

I stepped cautiously into the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. He looked up the moment my foot hit the ceramic tile. With an expression I couldn't seem to read – as usual – he stared at me. I hesitantly moved closer. Unfortunately, the only way out was to walk past him.

Licking my lips nervously, I ducked my head and exhaled. Facing him like this, with the screaming silence and nothing to divert our attention was like waiting for the guillotine to drop. There was nowhere to hide. But I didn't want to hide, not anymore. The world had thrown everything it had at me, torturing me in every way possible. Now, I was going to fight back.

But first, I had to deal with Paul.

"I'm sorry about that," I whispered, meeting his gaze and nodding to the cut. He went to touch his face, but grimaced when his finger hit the bandage. Instead of replying he just shrugged. I supposed I couldn't expect more than that.

It was amazing that brass knuckles could do that much damage. Speaking of brass knuckles…I looked down at my hand to see it bare and slightly red where the brass had rubbed it. Someone must have slipped them off my hand at the beach.

I look up confused and Paul opened his hands, revealing the strip of copper colored finger attachments. He twiddled it between his fingers for a moment before saying, "You know Suze, I never pegged you for the artificial artillery," his tone was even, no sign of humor or emotion, "I thought you were just bare punches and high kicks."

Looking down I pulled on the sleeves of his sage green sweatshirt, which I was still wearing. My hair was stiff and salty, my eyes crusty from crying. I needed a shower, food, and my bed. My bed that was in my bedroom that had the window seat that Jesse wouldn't be on.

I wanted to go home. But there were still things to tie up here with Paul, at least temporarily. We both had questions. Mostly, I was wondering what to do next. What did Paul want? What could I give? What was I willing to give? After everything that had happened between us, was there room for a second start?

"Paul listen," I began, unsure of what came next. But I didn't need to continue, because Paul did for me. He leaned over and placed the knuckles on the counter in front of me, nodding for me to take them. I stepped back, not wanting their power anymore.

"Suze," he said quietly, refusing to look at me. He was so reversed, closed down, locked up, and hidden. Not your typical let-me-brag-about-myself Paul. He didn't want to talk to me right now anymore than I wanted to talk to him. "I…well, these next few days are going to be hard on you. I get that. I just…maybe when you're feeling better…and…you know what?" he snapped his head up, a finality in his tone now, "Never mind, I'll call you."

My mouth opened. Then closed. I swallowed. At first he sounded almost hopeful. Still, I wasn't expecting him to be so…cold. Not that anything he said was mean. But compared to his usual endless and sometimes pitiful attempts to engage in conversation with me, his short answer of 'I'll call you' was certainly not a normal Paul response.

But I suppose that was fair, considering what I'd done to him. He had every right to end all ties with me now. It was up to him. I just wasn't sure how I felt about that. Someone special had just walked out of my life and I had no control over it. Was I willing to let that happen again?

"Okay," I answered, nodding my head. I stood there for a minute more in silence, rolling on the balls of my feet. After a while of looking around the kitchen – which I knew pretty well by now – I decided it was time to step into the outside world, away from my protectors and start protecting myself.

There was nothing more to say here. We both needed time, to heal our wounds and sort through our heads. By the looks of it, Paul needed a shower just as bad as I did. We couldn't ignore the issues forever, but right now we both needed to be apart.

"I'm gonna go," I muttered quietly, desperate to end the awkwardness. "I haven't been home in a while…"

Paul nodded slowly, going back in to his pensive state. "I'll drive you," he offered, in the same blank voice as he slowly reached for his keys which were hanging on a hook behind him.

"No, it's okay," I told him, "I'd like to walk."

"Are you sure?" he asked. But I noticed that his hand came away from the keys awfully quickly, and he got comfortable again in his chair.

"Yeah," I frowned, "I'm gonna need time to come up with an excuse for my absence." I pushed some of my sandy hair behind an ear and slowly made my way to the door. Paul seemed to rethink our parting method because he got up and started walking toward the door faster than me.

I thought he was going to insist on driving me, which would have annoyed me, but at the same time assured me that he didn't hate me. My hopes were short lived because he paused at the door and bent down to rummage through a basket standing off to the side. He stood with a pair of sport sandals in his hands.

"Here," he held them toward me and I realized I was barefoot. Good thing he caught that because reliving the pains of burnt feet and scabs was not something I wanted to do anytime soon. Especially since no one would be there to care so tenderly for my feet afterwards.

I accepted the shoes and slipped them on by dropping them on the floor and putting my feet in them. "Thanks," I smiled, "now if only I had these before…"

I grinned a little, but Paul just looked at me without a trace of emotion. His apathy stung. I turned away, swallowed the lump in my throat and walked out the door into the sunlight.

O 0 O 0 O O 0 O 0 OO 0 O 0 OO 0 O 0 OO

One thing I learned from this: men's shoes are way bigger than women's. As if the trek uphill to my house wasn't slow going enough, I had to stop every five feet because the sandals kept slipping off. Still, I was grateful to have something between my feet and the burning pavement.

The sun was harsh, now shining brightly at the top of the midday sky. A few cars passed, not a single one slowing down. This was fine by me. I didn't need any interruptions while I tried to sort through everything that had happened in the past few days.

Going home was the first step. By now, I'm sure my mother was sick with worry. I'd skipped two days of school – which I'm sure she was aware of now. And I didn't come home last night, which meant she'd probably called CeeCee and from her, deduced that I hadn't spent last night with her either. I was in serious trouble. Personally, I'm surprised there weren't any lost persons reports circling about me. Although, if there were any, I wouldn't know.

In the end I decided the best thing to do was tell her the truth. Of course, I'd have to leave Jesse out completely, which would complicate things. But at least I could be truthful about the skipping and lying. Despite the obvious need for a cover up story, I really didn't want to lie anymore.

I'd been lying to myself for far too long.

Which brings me to my most pressing dilemma: Paul. Since I moved to Carmel, Jesse was always there for me. But soon after, Paul entered the picture. Paul had never hesitated to tell me the truth, the truth I'd been fearful of since day one: that Jesse and I could never really be together.

Deep down, I'd known that all along, just like I'd known that I felt…something for Paul. But subconsciously, there was no way I was going to allow myself to fall for someone who ruined my dreams with my Jesse, my former heartache.

In a screwed up way, I blamed Paul for the complications between Jesse and me. Maybe I blamed him because he was the first person to say them out loud – but that wasn't fair because he was basically the only person who could see Jesse, besides me and Father Dominic. At the same time, if Paul hadn't reminded me time and time again that Jesse and I would never work, I could have lived in ignorant bliss a little longer.

But what was I living in bliss from? The fact that Jesse as dead and I wasn't? Or the fact that, however small a possibility, I might have confused my feelings of Paul and Jesse? That Jesse was my object of lust and Paul was a possible candidate for…love?

If I really thought about it, Paul was the one who always had my best interests at heart. He knew that Jesse's status of death would hurt me in the long run. He knew what my body needed. He stayed with me on the beach, carried me to his house. He even gave me shoes to protect my feet.

Granted, he was the cause of my feet injuries the first time. But still, if there was a thin line behind love and hate – which I was in danger of crossing – there was definitely a thick line between lust and love.

I was only know realizing which boy resided on which side.

I knew how much it would kill Jesse if I ever acted on my feelings for Paul. But in the end, my feelings won out. Paul kissed me and I kissed him back. Now the only thing that stood between us – Jesse – had moved on. So that left me with a very angry Paul, and mostly likely, a much more angry mother.

I was at my house now, looking up at the large bay windows of my bedroom. My mom's car was in the garage. I could see her through the living room windows, she was pacing, a phone pressed to her ears. When she turned around she could see me too.

Then she was running, running out the door to see me. Hugging me, kissing me, crying. And I was crying too, because I was finally home.

O 0 O 0 O O 0 O 0 OO 0 O 0 OO 0 O 0 OO

I placed my hand on the cold stone, bowing my head. My eyes scrunched up, but I didn't cry. This was not a time of crying, but of remembrance and celebration – celebration of a life finally completed.

I was standing at Jesse's tombstone again, for the last time. This would be my final and proper goodbye. Sun streamed between the trees in the early morning fog and I was reminded that I only had a few minutes left.

So much had happened over the weekend. My mother, after triple checking that I was physically okay and not intoxicated, proceeded to give me the biggest grounding of my life. By the time school got out in two weeks, I would cease to have a social life – not that I had a big one in the first place.

But I think I really agitated her when I refused to give her any explanation of where I had been. I couldn't tell her the truth and I just couldn't lie to her, not after everything I'd put her through. But my mother was fearful that our relationship was going to suffer from my secret – ha, if she only knew half the secrets I keep from her – and scheduled us for several mother–daughter art classes over the summer.

Considering what I did, it's a small price to pay.

So after her interrogation, and after Andy came home from looking for me and proceeded to do the exact same thing, I was sent to my room. Alone in my own head I came to several conclusions, mostly about Paul. I couldn't stop thinking about his face after I hit him, the cut on his chin, and the look he gave me before I left his house. Paul said he'd call me, but I called him. And together, we had a long talk.

Now, before the morning bell at school I was standing in the graveyard. It was Monday, a brand new day. I felt refreshed – both from a shower, and nice meal, and coming to terms with my own feelings. People come and go in life. The ones who leave something behind are the ones who never truly leave you.

"Goodbye, Jesse," I whispered, "and thank you."

I stood still for a few moments, and patted his headstone. Above me the trees rustled. Life was still going on, and I was still part of it.

"Suze, you ready?" a voice asked from behind me, on the path. I turned to see Paul, waiting for me. I smiled at him, and placed the single lily I was carrying on the top of the tombstone. Then I walked over to Paul.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I replied, taking his hand in mine as we made the walk back to the mission, together.

I was ready for anything.

Sniff...tear...my first story completed!

Hope you liked it. Please review.