Disclaimer- I own absolutely nothing.
Summary- AU Nothing cuts deeper than one image of perfection turning out to be imperfect after all. The only thing that can heal Suze's scar is someone else's love. She finds that waiting for her in Carmel, CA. The only glitch is that she doesn't want it.
A/n- Contrary to what it may seem like… I am not a new fanfic writer. I have written Mediator fanfiction before (I just haven't updated them in, ahem, a year). So I have no excuses if this sucks. Except that I wrote it after the worst cross country practice ever. Does that count as an excuse…?
This is a two-part story, dedicated to Lindsay, aka Miss Strawberry-Shortcake01. Love you, Linds. :)
P.S. This is a Jesse/Suze fic.
Part One: Paul Slater
Chapter One: A Dream Come True
I spent all period in English staring at the back of Paul Slater's head.
When the bell rang, I didn't even notice. It wasn't until my best friend Gina stuck a manicured hand directly in front of my line of vision, blocking my sight of Paul's movements as he got out of his seat, gathered up his stuff, and left. All done with a gracefulness and a certain degree of hotness that I never knew was possible from a teenage human being.
I turned to Gina.
"What?" I asked, annoyed that she interrupted right in the middle of one of my Slater fantasies, this one involving Paul and I walking hand in hand, up every single one of the 1665 steps of the Eiffel Tower. When we finally reached the top, we both sat down, and he gingerly caressed my face in his large, warm hands, and his face loomed closer and closer, then…
Well, then the image was besmirched with the likes of a hand in my face, a faintly ringing sound in my ear, and Paul Slater walking out of the room, hands in his pockets, a sexy grin on his face, oblivious that he had been the object of a certain someone's fantasies only moments before.
"I thought you had gotten over him this summer," Gina said as I quickly gathered up my things and stuffed them into my JanSport.
"Nope. My feelings for him haven't altered or diminished one bit."
Gina looked at me, obviously exasperated. "You've gotta move on, Suze. You've been in lust with him for a year already, and that's eleven months too long. It's a new school year. It's time for you to find someone else to be obsessed with. Someone who's actually reachable."
She emphasized the last word as we walked out the door. Immediately, my eyes roamed the halls, searching for one more glimpse of the one that had occupied my thoughts all 76 days of my summer.
"Paul is too reachable," I said, still desperately trying to find him in the sea of high schoolers, going out of their way to greet one another. I had no one to greet, since Gina was my one and only friend here in New York. "True love knows no limit. Just because he's a jock, and I'm, well, not a cheerleader, that doesn't mean it can't happen."
Gina was just getting ready to retort, when I shushed her because finally, my eyes had found utopia and my body was walking toward it.
"You're deranged, you know that?" She muttered as she walked a few steps behind me, albeit reluctantly. "He would never like you. Popular guys like him either date popular girls or those who wouldn't mind being his call girl, his lady of the night. You two have been in the same classes last year for all a hundred and eighty days. Yet has he paid any attention to you at all? Has he even bothered to talk to you, except to ask to borrow a pen, or paper, or whatever? Has he-"
"Shut up," I said out of the corner of my mouth, and then plastered a smile on my face since we were approaching Paul and a few of his friends.
I was just getting ready to say "hi" or something equally original when I heard one of the guys he was with utter something that froze me in my tracks.
"Dude, you know that Suze Simon chick? She was staring at you the whole class, man. She couldn't take her eyes off of you."
To which Paul replied with a, "Really?" He sounded amused and thoughtful at the same time.
"Oh. My. God." I whispered as Gina and I power-walked the other way, ASAP. "Now Paul's going to think I'm some kind of psycho who has a sick obsession with him and stalks him every chance she gets."
"That's because you are," Gina sounded annoyed, like she always does when I freak out over someone she considers trivial. "I don't even get why you like him. You two have absolutely nothing in common. He's a superficial, shallow jerk who only cares about getting laid."
I almost crashed into the wall with a Homecoming poster pasted on it, but Gina grabbed my arm and steered me the right way at the last minute.
"No he's not," I said in response to her calling Paul superficial, shallow, and slutty. (So not the man of my dreams!). "I know it seems that way to other people… but Gina, I truly believe that within his nonchalant exterior, there is a deep soul who genuinely cares about the world and other people. There has to be."
She glared at me as if I were touched in the head. "We'll see about that. After all, he now knows you like him."
Which isn't really true, since I love him.
That night, I dreamed I was Winnie Foster, and he was Jesse Tuck.
That may be the result of me watching Tuck Everlasting three times before I went to sleep.
Tuck Everlasting. My sole other obsession besides Paul Slater.
Winnie: If I went to the Eiffel Tower, I would take one of those elevators.
Jesse: Not with me you wouldn't. You'd take off your shoes and walk up every single solitary step.
All my life, all I've ever really wanted was a love like that of Winnie and Jesse. Unadulterated, genuine, and everlasting. A love that's obvious to anyone, even mere strangers, passing by who happened to gaze into the window of their life. A love that knows no boundaries, shows no mercy, and takes its victim on a soul-searching ride. A love that has the ability to open up eyes and souls, to filter out the tainted and pour in the pure. A love that can change one person's life in a matter of seconds.
A love that is perfect.
The only person who I could envision myself with, sharing that perfect love, is Paul Slater.
I don't care what Gina says; Paul is the mirror-image of perfection. Curly hair that outdo the sun in goldeness… chiseled cheekbones that can so easily slice my heart in half… deep, dark eyes that has forever captured my soul… flawless nose, crimson lips, and tan skin… and a body that could not possibly be real.
His perfection does not limit to his physical attributes. Even though some may deem him arrogant, or superficial, or debaucherous, I know that is all a façade. Paul isn't like that deep inside. Maybe it's not perceptible to everyone, but I know. I know that's not the real him. I know he isn't a typical jock whose only worries are girls and sports. I know that if he's in an environment with intelligent, authentic people, his actions and words would greatly differ than when he's surrounded by his phony "friends."
All in all, I know Paul is true. I know he has a heart. I know he has a personality. I know he's my other half, my only hope at happiness. I know he's…
Standing right in front of me?
I almost dropped my English and Geometry book on his head, I was so surprised at seeing him. Just standing there.
In front of me. Looking at me. As if he wants to say something.
As luck would have it, the bell rang at exactly that instant. Paul shrugged, and smiled at me, and then walked to his class. It took me a second to get over the fact that Paul Slater actually looked at me straight in the face, much less gave me the gift of one of his to die for smiles. Then, I followed after him, since we were in the same class. As usual.
"Hi Gina," I said as I slipped into the desk beside her. "What's up?"
She immediately knew something was fishy; that was made obvious by the fact I had a goofy grin -a no-no for Suze Simon- on my face.
"Spill, Simon. What happened?"
I was going to answer her. I was going to give her a blow-by-blow account of Paul Slater and my encounter while Mrs. Connealy did the usual early class rituals: roll call, homework, etc.
Except just when I opened my mouth, a ghost materialized at the front of the room. An inch away from Mrs. Con.
Judging by the long curtain of black hair, the ghost was a girl. Judging by her size and face, she was no older than twelve.
I watched in horror as she started walking down the aisles, examining the people, who were either passing notes or staring dully up at the ceiling. I was scared out of my wits that someone was going to accidentally touch her, to go though her, and the girl, seeing that horrific act, would start screaming bloody murder.
I bit the end of my pen, willing her to find a new interest outside and dematerialize. I was watching her movements so intently that it took me awhile to feel a pair of eyes boring into my head.
I turned. And saw Paul Slater, sitting two rows in front of me, three rows to my right diagonally, staring at me staring at the ghost girl…
…and almost choked on my pen.
The ghost disappeared after about ten minutes of Mrs. Con's droning voice, explaining the importance of the play Romeo and Juliet. For once, a boring teacher came to be useful.
"Okay, Simon," Gina said as the bell rang, signaling the end of yet another English class. As we walked out the room and toward our lockers, I nervously kept my head down, avoiding any eye contact with her or anyone else. "What was with you in class? First you seemed like you were seeing a ghost, your face was so pale and twisted up. Then you stared at your textbook for the rest of the period, instead of staring at a certain someone else like you always do. What is up with you today?"
We were at our lockers by then. I watched as Gina twirled her combination. I wrung my hands in nervousness (I always thought that that "wringing your hands" was just a stupid form of expression and that you couldn't actually do it… until I was doing it myself).
"Nothing. Nothing at all," I said, my voice wobbly. I started to work on my combination too, but I wasn't seeing the numbers. All I was seeing was Paul's disconcerted expression as he looked at me in class. I could just imagine my own expression: as if I were seeing my dead father or Santa Clause bouncing around, a few months early for his usual visit.
"Look, Suze," Gina started to say. "If this is about him again, then I'm going to-"
I never did found out what the threat was. Because at that moment, Paul appeared behind us.
I stared at him. Gina did too. But I'm sure it was for a different reason than mine.
"Suze," Paul said, grinning at me lazily, as we were old friends speaking for the zillionth time, instead of mere classmates who had never spoken to each other before. "A word, please?"
I gulped.
Gina slammed her locker shut, gave me one last glare, and stealthily walked away.
Paul and I were alone.
I hugged my books to my chest and looked at him, straight into those mesmerizing eyes. Right then, I felt as if he really were Jesse Tuck, a reflection of the person I want my soulmate to be.
Paul didn't waste any time getting to the point. Leaning against Gina's locker, staring at me and focusing all his attention on me for the first time since, well, ever, he said: "You could see her, couldn't you."
A chill ran through me. My arms turned numb, and my binder fell from the fragile grip of my fingers. Looseleaf papers splattered all over the floor.
Horrified and utterly humiliated, I bent down to pick them up, my face completely crimson. For some reason, my fingers lost the ability to grasp. They were shaking.
A shadow fell across floor.
Don't look, Simon. Stare at the floor for all infinity if you have to.
I never listen to logic. Of course I looked.
His face, only inches from mine… His eyes… so deep, so clear, boring into mine…
It's amazing how two pools of blue can hypnotize me. How they can make me feel safe, loved, vulnerable, and flawless at the same time. How they can make me feel as if for the first time ever, someone viewed me as perfect.
I found it hard to breathe. And we weren't even doing anything except having a staring contest.
Even that was too much for me.
I was just getting ready to break off our connection when his hands landed on my chin. Strong, sturdy, gentle fingers clasped around my face, caressing my cheek. My mouth dropped open, and then closed. I closed my eyes and told myself to breathe.
Just breathe…
When I opened them back up again, Paul was still there. He hadn't moved away, he hadn't withdrew his hands, he hadn't stopped looking at me unlike any way anyone has ever looked at me before.
Everyone around me faded away. It was only us in a sea of notebook papers.
My first thought was that he was going to kiss me.
My second thought was that the position we were in, his hands on my cheek, our eyes locked together, our souls fusing into one…
…It was a should-have-been moment for Winnie and Jesse.
Paul never did kiss me. I don't think he was going to in the first place. Even if he was, which he wasn't, he didn't get the chance to anyway.
Because ghost girl decided to pop in for another visit.
When she suddenly materialized several inches away from Paul, I jumped back and managed to smash my butt against my locker. Hard.
Paul turned to see what had startled me. GG was still there. When Paul turned back towards me, she dematerialized.
"You CAN see her."
The bell rang. Paul Slater stood up and walked away, and did not once glance back.
All I thought about on the afternoon walk home with Gina was that Paul and I definitely had one thing in common.
We're both mediators.
And just how rare is that? It totally proves we're meant to be. We can breed Mediator babies, for God's sake.
I didn't pay attention to anything Gina was saying. All I knew was that she was talking, and I wasn't listening. And that she was pissed off by the time we reached my apartment.
"Suze, snap out of it," Gina warned me.
Ignoring her demand, I asked if she wanted to come up.
"Can't. Another time."
No explanations. Just a "Can't." I stared at Gina's retreating back and wondered how our friendship turned into this.
Can't. Another time…
"Mom, I'm home!" I called out as I opened the door.
There was no need. She was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.
Waiting for me.
"What is it?" I asked tensely, taking a seat in front of her. Worst case scenario: Dad died. Again.
Upon seeing my apprehensive expression, Mom laughed. "Relax, honey. It's good news!"
Good. Right. Sometimes, my mother and I have different definitions for the word "good."
I didn't say anything. I was afraid she was getting transferred somewhere, and we were going to have to move, and I would have to leave Gina behind, not to mention Paul…
Not that either of them seemed too fond of me at the moment. But I'm just saying. They're the only two persons living in New York is worth for.
"Susie…" She suddenly looked ten years younger. Her face stretched out into a smile, one that is playful, excited, and nervous at the same time. "…I'm getting married."
I was grateful I wasn't having coffee like her right then. Because I'm sure if I were, I would've choked to death.
After the wedding, we were moving to Carmel, California, where her husband-to-be, Andy lives. Mom told me it's sunny place with palm trees. I didn't believe her.
Why should I? She's dragging me away from New York, the place where I was born in, raised in, and grew up in. The place where my best friend is. The only place that'll ever feel like home to me.
The place where the object of my true affection resides.
Forget about him for a minute, I chided to myself as I stood in front of Gina's door, trying to bring myself into ringing the doorbell. He can't be as important as your best friend. He's just a guy. He is. Right now, Gina matters more…
I rang the bell. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Gina appeared.
We stared at each other for some moments. Then, involuntarily, I burst into tears and fell into her arms.
The next morning in homeroom, I was rereading my Chemistry notes when Gina slipped into the seat beside me. Immediately, I closed my binder and turned to her, willing my eyes to stay dry.
Nothing of me is ever obedient.
Gina gripped my shoulders sympathetically, trying in vain to soothe me. I could see that she wanted to cry again too.
"I can't believe you're moving," She whispered.
I sniffled and turned away. I couldn't even make it till the end of homeroom without smearing my mascara, could I?
I was contemplating how much Carmel is going to suck when I heard a voice behind me.
"Wait. You're moving?"
Paul Slater. Paul Slater sits behind me in homeroom. That voice, syrupy, low, and lathered with feelings for once…
I turned around. "Yeah. My mom's getting married and we're moving to California."
Just then, the teacher came in and hushed us as we listened to the morning announcements. I began drawing on the edges of my chem notes, toning the principal out…
…While trying to not get too excited over the fact Paul Slater seemed to actually care whether I stayed within his presence or not.
Just as the bell was almost to ring, a note slipped onto my desk. From directly behind.
Gingerly, I opened it.
Don't move.
I turned and stared at him as the bell rang and everyone else got up and left. Gina cast a look at Paul and me and left also.
"I'm sorry you're leaving," He said, sounding genuinely sad. Then he got up and left the room.
I don't know what confused me more. The fact that Paul Slater would really care if I left, or that in the moment our eyes were fused, I knew I would do anything to erase the sadness from his voice.
From that day until the weekend I went to California for my mom's wedding, Paul would stop and say "hi" to me whenever we happened to pass each other in the halls and in class.
Even though there is nothing romantic about a "hi", the fact that it came from Paul, whom I've been obsessing and fantasizing over for a year, made it the highlight of my days.
Sometimes, when I ask a question in class to no one in particular, he would answer it. Even though he so didn't have to.
If I didn't know any better… well, I would think that he actually likes me back.
But I do know better. I do know that in an environment filled with bimbos, jocks, and people who only cared about flawless skin or Monday Night Footday or whatnot, his true self would never emerge. He wouldn't have the chance to realize that we make the perfect couple.
He would never have the opportunity to finally open his eyes and see that he's Jesse Tuck. And that I'm Winnie Foster. And that together, we're two halves to a whole.
However, I still hoped and looked forward to his "hello's".
Once, a couple of days after he found out I was leaving, he stopped at my locker and asked one question: "When?"
I immediately knew what he meant.
"After Christmas."
Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc… I couldn't believe my mother married someone with kids who bare uncanny resemblance to three of the seven dwarfs.
Only my mother would do that, I thought as I sipped my coffee.
I was sitting by myself at a Starbucks near the school. I had just gotten back from California for my mom's wedding. Andy was okay, even though his sons were definitely not. They were either a druggie (in Sleepy's case), a man-slut (in Dopey's case), or a total brainiac who seems incapable of stopping himself from spouting interesting -but somewhat useless- facts (in Doc's case).
I was thinking about how Sleepy caught me outside the chapel, sneaking my first -and last- cigarette, when I felt, rather than saw, someone taking the seat opposite to me.
I glanced up from my cappuccino. There, directly in front of me, uninvited, sat Paul Slater.
"Hey," He nodded at me in greeting.
"Um," I said.
"You don't mind, do you?" He asked, as the realization that I might have wanted to sit there and drink coffee, alone, with no one to talk to and just drown my sorrows in a black pool of coffee grounds had just dawned on him. "I can leave if you'd rather be here by yourself."
"Um," I said again, still not really believing that he actually chose to sit with me and drink coffee when he could've being doing a number of other things, including, but not limited to, "screwing girls." (In Gina's words, not mine. I personally don't believe he is that immoral.)
"No, it's okay," I coughed out as I saw him trying to stand up. "I was just surprised, is all."
Paul leaned back in his chair and grinned. As he did, I noticed the top part of his shirt was unbuttoned, and I was rewarded with a view of his thin chest hair.
Swoon.
"So you can see ghosts, huh," He said, training his gaze on me.
I was a bit disconcerted, since I expected him to ask about the move again. But if he wanted to Mediator-talk, that's fine with me.
"Yes," I said casually, trying to pry my eyes off his tanned chest. "I was born with the ability."
Paul nodded and took a sip of the coffee he had brought with him. "Me too. You're a Mediator?"
"Yes," I answered. "It's a pain in the butt."
This caught his attention, all right. "Really? Why?"
I brought my eyes into the same level as his. "Do you really want to know?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I asked, didn't I?"
Therefore, I spent the next half hour explaining to him Susannah Simon's 100 list of reasons why Mediating sucks and ruins your life.
I don't know whether or not Paul enjoyed listening to me rambling on and on about how I'm forced to help prima donnas who haven't got one iota of a clue, the length I go to to assist ghosts, how I'm always getting dragged off by police officers in the middle of the night, how it ruins at any chance I might have at a normal life, and so on.
But I enjoyed telling them. More accurately, I enjoyed telling them to Paul, since I knew he would understand. He was one of my kind. Surely, he encounters the same types of problems I do on a daily basis. Surely he knew exactly what I was talking about.
After I was done, Paul shook his head and laughed. "Do you really let Mediating interfere with your life that much?"
The question unnerved me. I thought he was going to agree or something. "I just want to help them. That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it? Help them the best we can so they can move on?"
"That's where you're wrong," Paul said calmly, looking at me and wearing an expression I didn't recognize. "You help them in the easiest and most convenient way for you. Otherwise, if you listen to all the bullshit that come out of their mouth and try to be their slave, you'd be letting them run your life."
I blinked. What he said actually made sense. But it just seemed a bit, I don't know, selfish. I was always taught to use the altruistic route as often as possible.
When I courageously pointed this out to him, he just laughed again and said, "Well, then I guess I'm selfish."
And he laughed again. The sound was somewhat chilly, since the humor in there only took up 1 percent.
After that, the conversation just kind of died. We sipped our coffee, lost in our own worlds. I don't know what Paul was thinking of, but myself… well, I was lost in yet another Jesse/Winnie fantasy, where Paul and I were the players.
Winnie jumped off a big rock, straight into the waterfall. She soon started to freak out because she can't swim.
"JESSE!"
He captured her in his arms and soothed her.
"Sssshh, I gotcha."
"How does it feel?"
"It feels wonderful. I'm weightless."
"That's because we're carrying you, the water and me. We're both carrying you."
"Don't let me go!"
"There's not a chance of that, Winnie Foster. I'm never gonna let you go."
"Suze? Hello, Suze?"
I didn't notice Paul was calling for me until his hand was in my face.
"Oh, um, sorry," I said, blushing as I got up along with him. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you wanted me to walk you home." He said, amusement dipping into his tone.
I glanced outside. The sun was going down, casting the city in a deep, orange light.
"Sure."
Obviously, I was nervous. I didn't know whether I was supposed to make conversation with him again, or walk alongside him, or whatever. All I knew was that I was grateful and sorrowful at the same time that my house was only two blocks from that Starbucks.
"We're here."
We both stopped. I crossed my arms in an attempt to prevent them from fidgeting.
"Well?" Paul asked. "Aren't you going to invite me up?"
"Invi… Invite you up… right. Right," I nodded my head vigorously. "Right. Come on up."
As we both rode the elevator upstairs, I had to tell myself, yet again, to just breathe. This was one of the times when I'm in the presence of Paul Slater, my heart beat skips, and I have trouble with breathing through my nose or mouth.
Paul suddenly hit the button for the top floor.
"What're you doing?"
He grinned one of those grins that makes me want to melt into a puddle at his feet. "You'll see."
I did. And it was the most gorgeous, magnificent sight I have ever witnessed in my existence.
But first, when we got off, we had to climb a set of stairs and then a little ladder, which led up through a trapdoor at a ceiling, which led to the roof of the building.
There, the view that greeted us was absolutely stunning.
Gold, mixed with orange, mixed with scarlet, and all the colors in between. Streaks of the tints and shades of them lined the sky. The picture, the beauty that was created is indescribable.
"Wow." The word escaped my lips like a silvery breath.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Paul snaked up behind me, and then stood beside me. "I love watching sunsets. It's a normal part of the world, a beauty that doesn't cost any fee to see. I would watch them every day if I could."
I would too, I said silently.
No wonder so many couples watch sunsets together. No wonder it brings them closer to each other. The beauty of it makes you want to curl up into a ball with your partner, where you feel safe and loved. It makes you feel as if all your worries had faded away, leaving behind only happiness. It makes you feel lighthearted, carefree, and for the first time since ever… perfect.
I for one did. With the sunset enveloping me, wrapping me in its warm and safe blanket… I felt like me. I felt like I belonged. I felt all parts of myself, my mind, body, soul, and spirit, were finally at peace with one another, making me whole. Perfect. At last.
What made the situation perfect, completely and totally, was Paul's arms around me as we both gazed outward in the same direction. It was his lips on mine, so soft and tender, that it was impossible for me to not give him what he was giving me, to not hand over everything I've got. As our tongues explored new territory, as our hands roamed in places that were foreign and new, I felt my heart rising up and up, pulling my body -and Paul's- along with it. I felt, as we were floating up, the sensation that birds were singing right in my ear, and angels and fairies had somehow given me their glimmery and magical wings. As Paul and I sat in the middle of the sky, on top of the sunset, on top of the world, I finally felt my skin unwrapping itself from my body and floating away, exposing my soul to the only person I would ever want it to be shown too.
I felt our true love in the kiss. I felt the pureness of it. And I didn't have to shift into my dreamland to know that this was one love that was going to last forever.
I don't know when our lips parted. I don't know when we stopped tasting each other. All I know is, when our souls were joined into one, I was really and truly happy at last.
It was a dream come true. A fantasy come to life.
A/n- I'm really sorry for the OOC-ness of this, everyone. But it's set in an alternate universe, so… things are going to be different.
One part done, three more to go.
If you've already bothered to read this, then won't you PLEASE review?