Yeah. Eventually he'll be able to use telekinesis to move things, but not until he stops Laurel from getting shot.
Actually, that was something I was wondering about. I'm not sure if she can hear him. At least not yet. I'm thinking it might make more sense for him to have some sort of mind-to-mind communication, like hearing but not quite. I mean, sound is the movement of air, and technically he can't move the air. Not yet.
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After stumbling over it since I first met you, I've finally got your nickname. You're Cargo. 
Jamie stood outside Laurel's house for a good several minutes after she went in, struggling with two opposing forces. The desire to return to his body was growing more and more irresistible the further away he got from it. There was also the fact that he knew, at some point soon, Jenna and Derek would be allowed to go see him. As painful as it would be, he wanted to be there for that. The idea of leaving them alone, staring at his empty body as they tried to make contact with him, he couldn't stand that.
At the same time, he clung to Laurel with a stubbornness that surprised even him. Every block they had traveled, Jamie had grown more and more certain that she was going to slip away from him as it got harder and harder to keep himself bound to her. And, every block, he found a new level of resolve, an ability to push past whatever kept pulling him back, and stay with her.
What was he doing out here? What gave him such certainty that this wasn't all a dream, some illusion conjured to comfort his permanently damaged brain. He didn't believe in any of that stuff, and he never had. He was a skeptic. Yet, if he allowed himself to believe this was real, what exactly did that mean for the rest of his beliefs? But he couldn't' convince himself this wasn't real. It was like a dream, but he could track every step that had gotten him from where he was to where he now is. There were no discontinuities, no leaps of understanding that required him to ignore the fact that some of the things that were happening just didn't work.
He would focus on Laurel. If this was a dream, she was the key factor in it. If this wasn't a dream, she was still the thing he needed to focus on. Since both possibilities had the same solution, there was no reason for him to wonder which was true. He would just follow it to its conclusion and see what happened.
Laurel's home was comfortable in a very old fashioned way. It was brown and dim and narrow, filled with all the things that made a house into a home. The floor didn't line up quite right, the two side walls were brick, and the only windows in the place were in the wall at the far end from the door.
Jamie heard Laurel before he saw her, crouched on the thick wood floor, curled up into a little ball of pain as the tears wracked her body. Jamie felt his heart twist. He'd read all the stories of cops killing innocent people, of the ways they acted as though they were above the law, and he'd allowed himself to believe that the woman who had shot him was the same way. She would show guilt in public, but in private she'd shed it like a cloak and be perfectly comfortable with what she had been done, and the fact that she was undoubtedly going to get away with it, despite Jenna and Derek's best efforts.
He'd been deluding himself, in an attempt to justify his rage at what she had taken from him.
Jamie moved forward slowly, uncertain of whether he was gliding or walking. It didn't really matter. He stopped in front of her, before carefully taking a seat a couple inches below the floor, which allowed him to be perfectly level with Laurel's curled body. He would comfort her, if he could. At the moment, he was probably the only person in the world who could bring her a measure of peace, and he was also the only person in the world who couldn't speak with her at the moment. His hand stretched out gently, hovering scant millimeters over her head as he imagined himself gently stroking her hair back.
At the same time, he clung to Laurel with a stubbornness that surprised even him. Every block they had traveled, Jamie had grown more and more certain that she was going to slip away from him as it got harder and harder to keep himself bound to her. And, every block, he found a new level of resolve, an ability to push past whatever kept pulling him back, and stay with her.
What was he doing out here? What gave him such certainty that this wasn't all a dream, some illusion conjured to comfort his permanently damaged brain. He didn't believe in any of that stuff, and he never had. He was a skeptic. Yet, if he allowed himself to believe this was real, what exactly did that mean for the rest of his beliefs? But he couldn't' convince himself this wasn't real. It was like a dream, but he could track every step that had gotten him from where he was to where he now is. There were no discontinuities, no leaps of understanding that required him to ignore the fact that some of the things that were happening just didn't work.
He would focus on Laurel. If this was a dream, she was the key factor in it. If this wasn't a dream, she was still the thing he needed to focus on. Since both possibilities had the same solution, there was no reason for him to wonder which was true. He would just follow it to its conclusion and see what happened.
Laurel's home was comfortable in a very old fashioned way. It was brown and dim and narrow, filled with all the things that made a house into a home. The floor didn't line up quite right, the two side walls were brick, and the only windows in the place were in the wall at the far end from the door.
Jamie heard Laurel before he saw her, crouched on the thick wood floor, curled up into a little ball of pain as the tears wracked her body. Jamie felt his heart twist. He'd read all the stories of cops killing innocent people, of the ways they acted as though they were above the law, and he'd allowed himself to believe that the woman who had shot him was the same way. She would show guilt in public, but in private she'd shed it like a cloak and be perfectly comfortable with what she had been done, and the fact that she was undoubtedly going to get away with it, despite Jenna and Derek's best efforts.
He'd been deluding himself, in an attempt to justify his rage at what she had taken from him.
Jamie moved forward slowly, uncertain of whether he was gliding or walking. It didn't really matter. He stopped in front of her, before carefully taking a seat a couple inches below the floor, which allowed him to be perfectly level with Laurel's curled body. He would comfort her, if he could. At the moment, he was probably the only person in the world who could bring her a measure of peace, and he was also the only person in the world who couldn't speak with her at the moment. His hand stretched out gently, hovering scant millimeters over her head as he imagined himself gently stroking her hair back.
Heh. You are too prompt for me. It was good as soon as I posted, so I tried to edit my reply. I'm good, I see them now. I'll leave you to read my edit rather than repeating myself.
Cool, thanks.
Sounds like I've got a pretty busy day today, so I'll try and get you something by this evening.
Sounds like I've got a pretty busy day today, so I'll try and get you something by this evening.
Six hours! Yuck. I'll be asleep by then.
I'll read whatever you have for me tomorrow. :)
I'll read whatever you have for me tomorrow. :)
No worries! I'm not going to find a picture for Darek, just because I want him to be whatever forms in your head as "average", but he does have Caucasian skin, brown eyes, and sandy blonde hair. :)
Also! I finally found a picture of Virginia that I'm happy with!
As Jenna had walked away Jamie had moved to the other side of the room, in the strange, rapid, almost blinking transition that was becoming normal far more quickly than he had expected. He stared after her longingly, wanting to reach out and brush his fingers through her glossy, wavy brown hair. Just as he was about to move again, catch up with the retreating figures of his two best friends, and hope that being in their presence as they waited to see whether or not he was going to live or die would be enough to calm the ache in his chest, he hesitated. He moved again, before he was even conscious of the fact that was his intent, to watch the FBI agent. Laurel.
He was getting bolder, growing more comfortable with his state of invisibility and intangibility the longer he remained disconnected from his body. For that reason he stood in the middle of a tide of people, watching with some amusement as they passed through his body. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to stand directly in front of Laurel yet. Even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see him, the idea of having her eyes on him sent a crawling sensation up his spine. So he hid, watching from the sidelines, and thought.
He thought about his body, lying comatose in a hospital bed, about the party he had undoubtedly ruined, about the fact that he never may be able to do his job again, may never be able to hold Jenna in his arms again, may never feel the sun on his face again. All because of this agent's inability to do her job. Somewhere along the line, on purpose or not, his life had become of equal value to a jeweled necklace.
He thought about Laurel's eyes, filled to the edge with tears that refused to spill over, not trying to defend herself, not trying to hide from what she had done. He thought about the way she had clung so tightly to the man who had come for her, as though all the strength was draining out of her, leaving her weak and fallible again.
He thought about Derek and Jenna's fury at her, at the promise Derek had made, and Jamie knew it was true. They were both going to make her life hell, each in their own way. Jenna might not be a full lawyer, but she was well respected at Gibson Dunn, and she had more than a few favors she could call in to various judges. Derek didn't look like much, but on the streets he was known as the Phoenix, because it seemed that, whatever kind of situation he got into, he could do no wrong and always came out ahead, and, whenever he did get trapped, he would rise from the ashes better than he had been before. Together they would come at Agent Shaw from both sides, and she would be left high and dry by both the legal overworld and the criminal underworld. Jenna would undoubtedly find someone at Gibson Dunn who would help her sue both Laurel and the FBI as a whole, and Jamie would likely wake with more cash than he knew what to do with. If he woke up at all.
Jame didn't know what to think.
His decision to follow Laurel could almost have been described as a whim, but it felt like something much more important than that to Jamie. He had always been definitive, always known what he wanted and what he believed. This uncertainty left him feeling uncomfortable. Either he had to be willing to hate Laurel and have no regrets about it, or he had to forgive her and move past it. There was no room for both of the emotions. But Jamie was not yet ready to make his decision. His beliefs bounced back and forth like he was the ball in a professional game of ping pong. He allowed himself to believe that, if he followed her, he would be able to make a decision. If he got to know her, he would either come to understand her too well to hate her, or he would find that he had no reason to empathize with her, and he would then be free to hate her. Both of those required him to follow her.
Briefly his mind turned back to Jenna, and he moved to her with ease. It was like picking out a familiar face in a picture, and he moved to her in a moment, despite the fact that, a split second before, he could not have guessed where she was in the hospital. He knelt down in front of her, caressing her face with his eyes, and reached forward carefully, placing his hand just above hers. Her fingers tightened almost spasmodically over the arm of the chair before she withdrew her hand, tucking it away safely between her knees. He wished he could comfort her, let her know that he loved her, and that somehow he was going to be alright. But he was nothing but a specter, and there was nothing he could do for her. He reached out to touch her cheek, but withdrew at the last second before turning away.
To his surprise, it was almost as easy to find Agent Shaw as it had been for him to find Jenna. She was on the second floor of the parking garage, being escorted to a car. He appeared, shadowing her movement while staying out of sight. He didn't need to see her to be able to follow her, and he wasn't quite ready to face her yet, even if she wouldn't be able to see him. He followed along behind the slow progress of the car, watched as it turned onto the street, and continued to move after it, jumping a little ways in front of it, standing quietly on the sidewalk as he waited for it to pass, and then moving in front of the car again.
In the middle of a street, just as the hospital was starting to vanish behind the first row of buildings that surrounded it, Jamie felt the tug of his body. It grabbed him, held him in place, prevented him from going further. It wasn't willing to completely relinquish its soul to the world. But Jamie wasn't willing to give up his quest either. He latched onto Laurel, clung to her like a particularly stubborn lemur, and that grabbing was enough to tug him away from his body. He felt it trying to pull him back, but as long as he felt the connection he wouldn't worry about traveling further away. Jamie had to believe that he would know if his body began to fail.
He shadowed Laurel all the way to her house, never staying in view of her for more than a couple seconds, but never completely losing track of her. He didn't know what would happen if he let go of her, but he wasn't ready to find out just yet.
He was getting bolder, growing more comfortable with his state of invisibility and intangibility the longer he remained disconnected from his body. For that reason he stood in the middle of a tide of people, watching with some amusement as they passed through his body. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to stand directly in front of Laurel yet. Even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see him, the idea of having her eyes on him sent a crawling sensation up his spine. So he hid, watching from the sidelines, and thought.
He thought about his body, lying comatose in a hospital bed, about the party he had undoubtedly ruined, about the fact that he never may be able to do his job again, may never be able to hold Jenna in his arms again, may never feel the sun on his face again. All because of this agent's inability to do her job. Somewhere along the line, on purpose or not, his life had become of equal value to a jeweled necklace.
He thought about Laurel's eyes, filled to the edge with tears that refused to spill over, not trying to defend herself, not trying to hide from what she had done. He thought about the way she had clung so tightly to the man who had come for her, as though all the strength was draining out of her, leaving her weak and fallible again.
He thought about Derek and Jenna's fury at her, at the promise Derek had made, and Jamie knew it was true. They were both going to make her life hell, each in their own way. Jenna might not be a full lawyer, but she was well respected at Gibson Dunn, and she had more than a few favors she could call in to various judges. Derek didn't look like much, but on the streets he was known as the Phoenix, because it seemed that, whatever kind of situation he got into, he could do no wrong and always came out ahead, and, whenever he did get trapped, he would rise from the ashes better than he had been before. Together they would come at Agent Shaw from both sides, and she would be left high and dry by both the legal overworld and the criminal underworld. Jenna would undoubtedly find someone at Gibson Dunn who would help her sue both Laurel and the FBI as a whole, and Jamie would likely wake with more cash than he knew what to do with. If he woke up at all.
Jame didn't know what to think.
His decision to follow Laurel could almost have been described as a whim, but it felt like something much more important than that to Jamie. He had always been definitive, always known what he wanted and what he believed. This uncertainty left him feeling uncomfortable. Either he had to be willing to hate Laurel and have no regrets about it, or he had to forgive her and move past it. There was no room for both of the emotions. But Jamie was not yet ready to make his decision. His beliefs bounced back and forth like he was the ball in a professional game of ping pong. He allowed himself to believe that, if he followed her, he would be able to make a decision. If he got to know her, he would either come to understand her too well to hate her, or he would find that he had no reason to empathize with her, and he would then be free to hate her. Both of those required him to follow her.
Briefly his mind turned back to Jenna, and he moved to her with ease. It was like picking out a familiar face in a picture, and he moved to her in a moment, despite the fact that, a split second before, he could not have guessed where she was in the hospital. He knelt down in front of her, caressing her face with his eyes, and reached forward carefully, placing his hand just above hers. Her fingers tightened almost spasmodically over the arm of the chair before she withdrew her hand, tucking it away safely between her knees. He wished he could comfort her, let her know that he loved her, and that somehow he was going to be alright. But he was nothing but a specter, and there was nothing he could do for her. He reached out to touch her cheek, but withdrew at the last second before turning away.
To his surprise, it was almost as easy to find Agent Shaw as it had been for him to find Jenna. She was on the second floor of the parking garage, being escorted to a car. He appeared, shadowing her movement while staying out of sight. He didn't need to see her to be able to follow her, and he wasn't quite ready to face her yet, even if she wouldn't be able to see him. He followed along behind the slow progress of the car, watched as it turned onto the street, and continued to move after it, jumping a little ways in front of it, standing quietly on the sidewalk as he waited for it to pass, and then moving in front of the car again.
In the middle of a street, just as the hospital was starting to vanish behind the first row of buildings that surrounded it, Jamie felt the tug of his body. It grabbed him, held him in place, prevented him from going further. It wasn't willing to completely relinquish its soul to the world. But Jamie wasn't willing to give up his quest either. He latched onto Laurel, clung to her like a particularly stubborn lemur, and that grabbing was enough to tug him away from his body. He felt it trying to pull him back, but as long as he felt the connection he wouldn't worry about traveling further away. Jamie had to believe that he would know if his body began to fail.
He shadowed Laurel all the way to her house, never staying in view of her for more than a couple seconds, but never completely losing track of her. He didn't know what would happen if he let go of her, but he wasn't ready to find out just yet.
I know! But he will make her life hell for a little while. Until she finally accepts that Jamie's "ghost" is real. Then it'll get better.
Guess all I'm saying is don't completely dismiss Derek. :D
Guess all I'm saying is don't completely dismiss Derek. :D
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