Oh, god! I am soooo sorry! Life has been unforeseeably hectic. Like CRAZY! I haven't had the time to write anything lately and it's been driving me nuts! So finally I was able to write a slightly shorter chapter and get it up here. Thank god. I have a little of the next chapter done as well, and hopefully I'll have that up before the weekend. Then my life gets busy again, so I'll try to write a bit more to keep you guys satiated. Thanks for all the reviews so far, especially my most faithful reviewer, who has gone through stages of killing both me and herself. Yes, none other than Pandabear123 who has been my constant inspiration and support. I love you. I really do.


Jesse's Vantage Point

I woke up. Surprising myself when I realized that I'd been stuck in a black, dreamless sleep for nearly 8 hours. It was almost noon. And surprising myself even more when I realized I was no longer in a self-hating daze. Now I was just resolved. Not quite happy, but almost hopeful. I flipped out of bed too quickly, the blood rushing to my head. I'd forgotten that I had blood now. I stumbled to the bathroom and took a quick look at myself in the mirror. Nombre de Dios, I looked like hell.

After showering and changing into jeans and a tee shirt, I shoved a granola bar down my throat and was out the door. The elderly Hispanic lady who lived down the hall from me waved and smiled at me as I descended the stairs two by two. I gave her a small nod in return, not sure if I could make my lips smile yet. The walk to the Rectory usually took 15 minutes if I was fast. But even though this time I was almost running, it seemed to take hours. I was out of breath when I finally knocked on the door. Panting and holding myself up with my hands on my knees. I was not expecting Sister Ernestine to open the door. A rush of cool air escaped, it felt wonderful in comparison to the hot summer afternoon.

"Hello, Sister. I was wondering if I may possibly have a word with Father Dominic." I asked, still slightly breathless. She looked me over in distaste, raising her nose and narrowing her beady eyes.

"You're that boy Susannah Simon is wrapped up in, aren't you?" She asked, scrunching up her plump nose. It was hard not to dislike Sister Ernestine, though it was wrong not to, her being consecrated to God.

"Yes, Sister, I am courting Miss Simon." I affirmed, though I wasn't sure where we stood after the other night...

"Hmpf." She sniffed. "Father Dominic is not here right now." I almost panicked at her words. Wanting to take her by the collar, lift her in the air and shake her, demanding to know his whereabouts. Instead I managed:

"Where is he then? It's urgent! I really must speak to him." She gave me an all-knowing look and crossed her arms.

"Got her pregnant then, did we?" She said quite snootily. "I knew that girl was no good, and any young man cau--" At first I flushed indignantly.

"Of course not. Sister. And my sins are not your business, they're between me, God, and my confessor. Now where is he?!" I tried not to, I really did. But my voice ended up getting louder with every word, until I was almost yelling at her. She glared evilly at me.

"Cathedral. Vestry." She said shortly, then slammed the door in my face. I jumped down the steps and viciously kicked a nearby rock into the garden. What an infuriating woman—nun. I started at a fast pace towards the Cathedral, but gradually slowed. Suddenly, I wasn't sure about this. I didn't really want to talk to Father Dominic. I was hesitant. Thoughts that were so unlike me crossed my mind. Why did I need to confess? It wasn't like it was a good time or anything. I could just call Susannah. Apologize. And then all would be well.

Who was I kidding? I needed to do this. I squared my shoulders and slowly walked up the church steps.

Suze's Vantage Point

I am not going to tell you how much yesterday sucked. Why? Because I don't think it will be productive. At all. Because I really don't think you actually want to know that I cried in my pillow all night, lied in bed all day. Bawled on the phone with CeeCee, and had my mother hugging me for almost an hour straight. Not to mention how weird Jake, Brad, and David were about it. Andy just made me chicken stuffed with brie and cranberry salsa, saying it always made him feel better when he was sick. It was sweet, but I don't really like cranberries. All I'm saying, is that it was the worst day of my life. I couldn't have been happier to wake up on Monday and have Black Sunday over with. Of course that was not to be. Why you ask? Well, I wasn't allowed to get to sleep, so therefore waking up wasn't an option.

"Whoa! Man. Weird!" I could tell from his voice that he wasn't from around here. I cracked an eye opened, vaguely interested to see a fellow New Yorker. Ugh. No way. There was no way I was dealing with a dead Yuppie in the middle of the night. I tried to go back to my moping, couldn't he have picked a better time? I should put out a notice, Sundays are a day of rest. No mediation services available. Actually while I'm at it, none between the hours of 5pm-9am. Of course, shepherding ghosts to the next world/life isn't exactly 9-5. It's more like 24/7.

"Yo, hey there? You alive?" Yeah. He had the audacity to poke me. I was lying in my bed minding my own business and poked me.

"Why meee? And you're one to talk buddy." I groaned rather distastefully and he grinned rather stupidly, stroking his perfectly trimmed punk-band-esque scruff. Then of all things, he fixed his obviously artificially straightened hair in my mirror.

"You're the local Mediator, are you not?" He asked all business like, standing by my bed in his jeans and a blue sports jacket. And, I had to stare at this one for a while, because for all intensive purposes, it looked like a Man-Purse. I choked out a sadistic laugh.

"Is that a Murse?" I asked between hysterics. Whoops, here I go with the slap-happiness again. I took a few deep breaths, gasping.

"It's a messenger bag actually." He narrowed his eyes under square plastic glasses. "So aren't you supposed to make this all better?" I wasn't really in the mood for patience. I really wasn't. And really who could blame me?

"I can't make you come back to life, if that's what you mean—"

"But I wasn't supposed to die!" 1,2,3,4, breathe Suze, just breathe. You have no idea how old this gets. Really. I mean it was funny the first oh, say eighty times? But now it's just getting repetitive. He must of caught my sardonic look, because he took it further.

"No, really, I wasn't! It wasn't fair, and it was all her fault!" I decided to give him this one. Only because I didn't want to argue my point.

"Who? Who's fault is it? Your girlfriend?" I asked tiredly, already resigned to the fact that I was going to have to forget my own problems and help a fellow New Yorker out.

"No, my step mom! She convinced my dad that we had to take one last vacation to the west coast before I move to England. And then while we were on the yacht, and I was minding my own business inside with my laptop. She forced me to go outside. To get some sun. As if I can't tan if I want to. Really all she wanted to do was force me to take pictures of them, her and my dad, because I'm a graphic arts major. So she was like bitching about angles and stuff, trying to tell me how to do it. Like I don't know how or something. And then, out of nowhere, I back up right? And trip right over the edge, I'm pretty sure I hit my head on the way down because that is all I remember." He looked genuinely pissed off, not sad that he was dead and his dreams were going to waste or whatever, but just PO'ed that his step mother was so readily blameable.

"And how is that really her fault?" I asked tiredly, my eyes squinting up at him and wondering what the hell he thought of my sad state.

"She made me come, and she made me go out on deck!" He was wringing his hands, genuinely annoyed that I didn't seem to understand, I was just surprised when he didn't end with a 'duh!'

"So she planned it all." I said, not even trying to hold back the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"Uh, well, when you put it that way... But what is it that's holding me back then?!" He screamed, and I cringed. Okay so it wasn't his stepmom keeping him here, so what was it?

"Can we figure this out later uh..." I fished around for a name with my hand. He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me.

"It's Jackson. Jackson Dax." And then he disappeared. Poof. I knew he'd be back though. But before that, sleep was in order. I tried to keep thinking of Jackson and his problem instead of my recent trouble with Jesse. Both cases would require a good long conversation with Father D. Ah, but first, sleep.