A/N- Next Chapter updated! I will post at the top here some useless trivia from now, until I finish the fic (which hopefully will be soon, as I have 3 days of vacation left until college starts once more).

The title of my fic: Change. I picked this, because it captured the tone of the story. Paul has (in this story) changed, and he's going through some changes of heart and mind as we progress, and he falls for Jackie. Jackie is also finding changes – she's come to Carmel, and falls in love for the first time with a guy that's not really her style.

But mainly I based the title on the song, "Change" by Good Charlotte, which I love so much. It's about unrequited love – which really has nothing to do with my story (unless you count Kelly, which I don't, because she's not the main character. :P )

CHAPTER 14: A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING

JACKIE

I saw there was a second level to the building from the inside. It was kind of like a ledge – but a wide as a hallway – that ran along the four sides of the building.

The window near the tree was open to my good luck. There was a guard pacing around a hundred feet from where I was planning on landing, so I waited for him to turn around, and then I slipped through, and landed as softly as I could.

I crept backwards towards the crates next to me.

Suddenly, there was a hand over my mouth, and another firmly at my wrist. I nearly shrieked, but decided to do the next best thing: a hard elbow to the rib cage.

I heard an "Ugh," followed by a familiar voice saying dryly, "Glad to see that I'm not forgiven yet."

My pulse drummed quickly, and I whirled around to see, "Paul! What are you doing here?" I hissed at him, forgetting my vow never to speak to him again.

"Shh!" he whispered, rubbing his ribs painfully. "Not so loud."

I peered over the crates he had pulled me behind to see if the ghost had noticed. Evidently not.

"Why'd you have to hit so hard, anyway?" he winced.

"Because you deserved it," I told him evenly, feeling glad that I hit him.

"You're right," he said dejectedly and hung his head low.

The morose tone in his voice made my insides feel squishy, a mixture of feeling sorry for him and feeling guilty. I did not like it at all.

So I fired at him sourly, "Why are you here, anyway?"

"You mean 'we'," he amended. "Suze and Jesse are here too."

My eyes narrowed. I finally spoke. "And I bet she's the one who told you?" I told him in angry sarcasm.

"And I'm glad she did," he retorted with equal anger. "You came rushing here like a chimp on speed, with no plan –"

"I have a plan!" I responded acidly.

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow of doubt.

I squirmed, and then burst out with, "Alright, I didn't okay? But so what! I –"

My boots, which I had carefully tied up together, and hung on my neck, slipped, and fell on the ground with a loud clatter.

We both froze.

"What was that?" I heard a voice call out loud.

"Get down!" Paul hissed, and pulled me away from the crates we were next to, and down behind the second stack.

I quickly managed to grab my boots with me just in time.

The thumping of the footsteps became louder. My heart rate quickened with each step. We both held our breaths.

"What the –?" I heard him mumble under his breath.

And then, there was another loud CLUCK! This time it came from the other end of the second floor. My hair stood on end, but after a second of silence, I heard the footsteps receding.

"Suze and Jesse," Paul breathed out loud in realization.

He had unintentionally pulled me on top of him in the scramble to hide, and now his warm breath tickled my cheek.

I quickly got off him as fast as I could, and then looked up.

This wasn't good.

I stealthily reached inside one of the open crates by us. My fingers closed around the first thing in there and then I pulled it out, hurtling it with all my might at the opposite corner of the floor – away from us, and from Suze and Jesse. The guard whirled his head around, looking towards where the object had landed.

"Crap," breathed Paul. I saw him staring wide-eyed at the contents of the box I'd just thrown from.

"Silencers," was the answer to my questioning look. "They silence a gun, so when it fires –"

"I know what a silencer is!" I hissed, not wanting long explanations at a moment like this.

"Then you know that, without a license, they're illegal," he looked at me, pointedly.

That piece of information I didn't know. I was about to ask him how he did – but then I remembered that Paul wanted to go into law.

Before I could say anything, I saw him rummaging around the other crates near by. He found what it was looking for, and pulled it out.

"A gun! Are you crazy, Paul!" I quickly grabbed it out of his hands. It was really heavy. "What'd you think you're doing!"

"Getting ready to fight," he told me rationally, as if he did this every day. "I'll take that, thank you," he took the gun back from my hands. I was too much in astonishment to argue back.

He locked the silencer into place. "You can't be serious." I told him, my jaw dropping.

"They're ghosts, Jackie," he told me, as if I didn't realize that. "It's not like I'm going to kill anyone."

Then I shook my head furiously. Preppy Paul with a gun in his hands, and I, who had brass knuckles and a baseball bat by my night stand, was here lecturing about gun-control?

No. I, Jackie Sonrisa, was going to kick ass.

I rummaged, taking out a hand gun, trying to remove the magazine cartridge, wondering if it had any bullets in it.

Paul looked at me, half impressed, and half amused. He handed me a magazine from a stash by his knee. I stuck it in the gun and locked it into place.

"Ever fired a gun before?" he had to ask.

I felt a little sheepish, but told him with more confidence than I was feeling, "There's a first time for everything."

He nodded, and we crept, dashing, whenever the coast was clear, from one mountain of high-rising crates to another.

The first thing we had to do was get to Jesse and Suze.

"They got here before I did," Paul explained, "And I couldn't get to them once I crept through the window. So I waited for you."

Hence the open window for me, I thought.

We could finally see them, and they saw us, but in our next sprint to the other stack of crates, we ran, and I blindly bumped into something that gave a deep, "Oof!"

I peered up to see a buff ghost, with a bandanna tied about his head.

"Hey!" he looked down at me. "Who the hell are you?"

Oh crap.

I began to move, but Paul acted much quicker. The next instant, the ghost was gone.

But so was Paul – in a manner of speaking.

He crumbled onto the floor, almost lifeless.

I freaked out. "Paul. Paul!" My heart thudded frantically at my throat. "Paul," I choked back a sob. What happened to him?

I placed my ear over his mouth, to see if he was breathing. He was – thank God. I felt relief wash over me.

And then I heard that same mouth mutter, "Um. What are you doing?"

I snapped my head back up, and pulled my ear way from his face. "Paul!" I breathed of relief."What happen?" I asked, my eyes searching his forehead for bumps, bruises, or any signs of concussions.

There were none, but I saw him rub his head painfully.

"Shifting," he replied, with amusement. "You ought to try it sometime."

This confused me – what was shifting? But I had enough sense to say reply, "I think I'd rather not."