He was staring at her with a shocked expression that must have mirrored her own in some ways, and Laurel fidgeted uneasily under his gaze. He might not have been staring at her with anger or in accusation, but just seeing him there was an accusation. Seeing him staring at her, a hallucination of him that is, was a reminder that she was only hallucinating this because the real James Weller could not. Laurel tried one last time to make the vision go away but when she opened her eyes again he still remained, looking at her as though he was as surprised by this as she was. 

Was this it? Was the guilt of her action trying to drive her insane? Would this vision of him haunt her forever? Was this what she deserved?

For what seemed like ages neither of them moved a muscle, and Laurel herself could hardly breath as her heart hammered in her chest. Then the hallucination of James Weller started pushing himself to his feet, his movements making her twitch slightly despite the fact that they were slow and careful. It was almost as though it was for her benefit, that he was not trying to alarm her more than he already had. She almost giggled hysterically at these thoughts.

James didn't try closing the distance between them, staying exactly where he was, but his arm extended towards her, like he was reaching out for her. All Laurel could do in response to this was let out a weak moan. Then his lips moved, and she wasn't much of a lip reader but she was almost certain that his mouth had formed her name. Laurel. How did he know her name? At least if that was what he had even had tried to say because though his mouth had moved she had heard no sound. Not even a whisper.

Her hallucination seemed to realize this, as well, because panic started to flit across his expression and his mouth moved more fiercely, lips forming word after word. But he still made no sound, not matter how hard he seemed to be trying to project his voice out into the world.

Everything was still for a moment, then James collapsed quite suddenly. Laurel's own body jumped in shock in response to the sudden movement, and she suddenly felt very out of breath as her heart raced. She watched him with wide, wary eyes as he sat there crumpled on her floor, his hands covering his head in obvious despair. She wondered if that was what she had looked like a few moments ago.

It took a moment for her to work up the courage to attempt movement, but Laurel finally managed to use the brick wall to pull herself up onto her feet. She was still trembling slightly but she didn't fall over. She looked down at her grief stricken hallucination, terrified and unsure of what to do. She didn't realize she was moving until she'd taken a couple of steps forward, her bare feet not making a sound on the wood. Laurel had gotten as close to him as she had dared, before bending slightly and reaching her hand out as though to grip his shoulder. But instead her hand passed right through him, and she felt a chill and a shiver run through her spine.

It proved too much.

Laurel jerked her hand back, inhaling a sharp gasp as she stumbled back a few steps. She turned around and nearly fell over as she did so, but she caught her balance and managed to make it to the spiral stair case the led up to the loft floors above them. She tripped and nearly fell again as she went up the stairs, but caught herself on the railing and continued til she reached the second floor loft, which housed her bedroom. Laurel didn't care that she was still wearing the hospital scrubs, she made a beeline for metal framed bed and all but dove into it, throwing the sheets, comforter, and quilted coverlet over herself and curling up beneath them, eyes squeezed shut as she tried not to think about her phantom hallucination almost directly beneath her.

Looking back on it Laurel would think about how childish it had been, running up to her bed to hide from her monsters, demons, and guilt under the covers. After all it wouldn't take long for her guilt to catch up with her again.