I Beg To Differ

It was like falling into oblivion. Blackness surrounded me but I could feel the water still. Slightly unconscious, I tried to move my body but it was like my limbs were set in stone. Faintly, in the somewhat distance, I could hear voices, people screaming, even my name… And then, all thought, all knowledge, all consciousness slipped out from beneath my feet and I was gone.

A Rose by Any Other Name

The body shuddered awake as I continued to prod it incessantly. It turned over to reveal the creased face of Father Dominic. He'd found me in the Ackerman house when he'd visited them one afternoon. I didn't think he could see me so was incredibly shocked when he looked me in the eye with more intensity that I thought a 65 year old man could have, and smiled.

However, on this particular occasion, he was not smiling that identical genial smile. Instead, it was a mystified, slightly irritated scowl. My terrified expression must have alerted him to the emergent situation.

"What is it, Hector?" he said, voice gruff with sleep.

"Susannah… she's drowning."

I would have rammed him in the back hadn't he been a priest. There was something in his shortened stride as he struggled with the delirious effects of sleep that made me irate. Unmentionably, save that one gasp in which I'd explained the outcome, I only thought of saving her.

Father Dominic was a mediator; a liaison between the living and dead. I had the ability to shift between passages of time and space but I wasn't able to bring him with me. As the priest fetched his car and began to drive to the party, I spent a while with Susannah and watched other guests fruitlessly trying to revive her. They thumped her chest and pushed her onto her side, all too terrified to call for help. It was an underage party with the keg of illegal beverage. How could these people be so selfish as to let her die for the sake of what? Certainly not their consciences nor there scruples.

After watching these reluctant efforts, I conceded. I returned to the priest who was rushing down a road nearby to the place in mention.

"Quickly," I ushered him along. With furrowed brows, he remained intent and gunned along the street.

Too intact to his principles, he daren't overstep the speed limit and we drove at a speed dangerous to my mental health. Too slow, too hesitant to satiate me.

"Hurry!"

The lights came into view. In this case, I looked past the glow that had delighted me once before. They now symbolized something other than happiness. There was something more sinister lurking behind that building that had me gasping and wrenching the door open for Father Dominic. He had to hurry lest he be too late. He, of all people, would have the decency, that moral fiber, to willingly find adequate help and not struggle to bring her back to life.

I wanted her to live even though I loved her. There had even been a time when, in some state of disbelieving, in some state immersed in depression, I'd wanted her to die so I could be with her. She lived so beautifully and, no doubt, she would age so gracefully and, on her death bed, I would say a silent goodbye to her and she would leave forever. The finality in that event had consumed me; that fate was not one I wanted. And it might have been selfish for, if anything, I should have wanted her to lead a fulfilling life in which she achieved all of those goals she so hungered for. Yet I still needed her to be with me. The selfishness in that overwhelmed me but I never doubted my love for her.

The priest burst in, although hardly noticed by the partygoers until he yelled out.

"Where is she?"

There was partition through the crowd as the bewildered teenagers caught sight of the man, ghostly white and in clothing unusual to his thing frame or at least to the eyes of the children.

We delved through the crowd and he bent over Susannah, checking her vital signs.

"Call the doctor," I said to him in his ear.

"Call the doctor!" he yelled our hoarsely.

It was intensely frustrating to have to have the priest convey every of my thoughts to the crowd. I was so inept in helping this girl that I cared for so deeply. I couldn't even touch her. I crouched down near her and attempted to cradle her head in my arms, soften the hard pavement but every time, my hands slipped through.

"Susannah," I said near her and urged her to open her eyes and redeem life. She didn't. "Please."

When the ambulance came, I stood up and tried again to, unsuccessfully, help the paramedics. I brushed through the crowd to no avail and I tried to part them further so that the medical team could leave with more ease, unhindered by the nervous children. They ignored me, they didn't even notice me. That is until I came to Paul; the brown haired man who stood at the back, seemingly unengaged with the ruckus.

"Pretty girl, isn't she?" he said as I stood by the gate, overseeing the paramedics loading the stretched into the ambulance; I would follow on later. His voice had me turning towards him; unsure and weary. He stared back at me with a raised brow.

"It's a shame really. You know what brain damage can do to a person," he continued to speak.

"Are you speaking to me?" I asked. The wind barreled against the man and his shirt billowed although mine hardly moved even with the strongest of gusts.

"Of course," he said.

My eyes widened. "Why didn't you help her?" I said. It didn't bother me so much that he could speak to me, see me, maybe even touch me. It bothered me more that he had made no effort to aid her. I was under the pretense that mediators were people with extraordinary powers to help people no matter who that person was. Who was this mediator who'd made no actions to help Susannah?

"She probably deserved it. People nowadays…"

His words were daggers and I didn't doubt that he purposefully spoke so cruelly about Susannah. I raised my right arm to hit him but lowered it almost immediately. Was there a purpose in hurting the man? What would it achieve? Very little in regards to the safety and health of Susannah. But still I wanted to. My arm tingled with the need to inflict some sort of pain, take out my frustrations, my anger on someone who perhaps mildly deserved it.

"Going to hit me, are you?" he asked, his eyes glinting with malice.

"No," I finally replied after a stint of deep thought. He seemed unfazed by my answer.

"Of course," he said then laughed as he returned to the rest of the crowd. I looked at his figure as he weaved through he group of people and anger rose although I ignored it as best I could.

I used to spend much of my time in the hospital. I would spend a day there and I would hover by all of the sick people going through convalesces. There was once when a girl saw me on the cusp of death. Her family, who usually spent their time at her bedside, was having a meal downstairs so that she was all alone but I remained with her and I reassured her that things would be alright. She believed me wholeheartedly and with every right to; she was a very obedient, polite child who deserved everlasting rest of whatever awaits us after death. Although she was scared, that fear was somehow dampened by my presence. There was something special in having a role, playing a part in helping someone. Something I'd missed.

I appeared at Susannah's bedside. Father Dominic was waiting outside and calling her parents. The doctors surrounded her and were treating her in a frenzied rush. I stood in the corner of the room, scared to get in the way in spite of the fact that they would just walk straight through me. Still, I stayed silent and unmoving in the corner, waiting for the next turn of events.

The equipment they used was familiar to me. As I said, I was also familiar to the hospital. I'd learnt, with the years, of the new technology even though there was no need. It brought a small flicker of light in my existence and I salvaged what I could.

"Keep resuscitating her. I'm going to get Doctor Phillips," said one of the female doctors who handed something to one of the nurses although another nurse blocked my view. She scurried off.

Machines began to sound more scatter brained.

"Who'd she come in with?" asked the remaining doctor.

"A priest."

"Get him," she said and I knew why she said those words. It was simple enough and, although I might have assumed it minutes before, it still had me staggering back in shock and pain. She couldn't die. Now that it mattered, I prayed that she would live.

Father Dominic entered a minute later.

"Sir, her condition is unstable," was all the doctor said and Father Dominic took over. The nurses vacated a space by her bedside and he occupied it.

"Our Father, Who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy name/

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done on earth,

As it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us,

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

Amen.

May this soul find eternal rest and happiness in heaven."

The heart monitor beeped sporadically as the prayer ceased and I rushed forwards. The priest was the only one to notice me and he stepped away from his position to give me room. The nurses looked at him questioningly but his eyes only rested on poor Susannah. I bent my head near hers and listened to her soft heartbeat. The close proximity was ignored; my only thoughts went to her.

"Susannah," I whispered although no one other than Father Dominic would hear. "Please survive. Please." The beeping did not stabilize but her eyes flickered as if she was suffering a terrible night mare. "You don't know me, Susannah, but you must gain back your health."

Slowly, her eyelids parted to reveal her crystal emerald eyes. They seemed empty although with a wash of glazed white on them. The nurses had given up at that point and, faintly, I could hear thudding footsteps as the doctors returned to the room. She stared at me, maybe through me, maybe at me. But her eyes were definitely directed at me. I stared at her tenderly.

"Find your health again," I said and her lips parted, dry as dust. "You must try, Susannah."

"How do you know my name?" The words escaped her lips like music, like a beautiful melody played by the most talented harpist. My breath caught. She'd seen me, she'd spoken to me.

I opened my mouth again to reply but then her eyes closed as suddenly as they'd opened. The beeping steadied and all of the nurses turned around from where they'd averted their eyes, supposedly giving Father Dominic space to place his last blessing on the girl.

"Oh my," gasped one who ran to the opposite side of where I stood. The doctors and the other nurses rushed forward as well. I looked on from next to the priest who smiled fondly at the girl.

"I knew she had it in her," he said whimsically.

"She saw me, she spoke to me," I whispered.

"Look after her," Father Dominic replied, seemingly not having heard me, "although it's clear that you will even without my request." He left the room silently and no one noticed except for me.

Soon after, Susannah's family arrived and they filed into the waiting room outside the ICU morbidly. The main doctor left to inform them of the news that she was stable and would undoubtedly regain her health. I watched them as they visited her. Her mother, Helen, stroked her daughter's hair and stayed by her bedside even as the rest of her family left to eat. There was that loyalty, that devotion only found in a mother daughter relationship that I respect enough to turn away as she whispered to the sleeping girl.

For three days she remained in the hospital.

I Beg to Differ

The last thing that I could remember were those brown eyes; depthless like chasms. The face was beautiful and my best friend from Brooklyn, Gina, would have been swooning in no time. I didn't know who he was but when he spoke to me, a feeling enveloped me that I cannot even begin to describe.

A/N: I haven't updated in ages so I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit tacky. I've lost touch with Mediator World! For the last month and a bit, I've been preparing and writing for NaNoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month. If you haven't heard of it, it's a competition in which contestants try to write a novel 0f 50k in the month of November.

This is the second year that I've participated in it and I had the best time. You should consider it for next year.

I hope that you liked this chapter although I might rewrite it in the future. Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews for the last few chapters. They were possibly the only thing that gave me inspiration to continue this fan fic although I only had a couple of chapters left.

Merry Christmas and have a happy New Year!

Junaberry