Ghost of a Chance

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

After a day of Dr. MacTaggart's tests, Marie-Ange has a nap, and wakes to a vision of her own.



At least none of the tests had been too obtrusive. Or involved a spinal tap. Marie-Ange was grateful for that, at least, even if she had the minature EKG machine back in her room again, making it's cheerful little bleeps and blorps as it processed whatever it had scanned while she napped.

And Dr. MacTaggart would be happy to have the extra data, all the better to explain just why the visions were appearing without Marie-Ange's knowledge or direct control. And hopefully to make them stop before anyone saw anything worse than they already had.

Still drowsy from the unexpected nap, Marie-Ange wandered out into the common room of her suite, and into the mini-kitchen, giving a half-awake wave to the blonde girl on the couch, face buried in yet another of the worn leather-bound tomes that Marie-Ange had seen her with countless times before.

She was halfway into making two cups of tea before she realized. And stepped back slowly into the room, to see a second figure casually toss a notepad onto the couch, and flick a plastic pencap at the blonde.

Slender, almost skinny, black hair, longer than the last time she'd seen, wire-frame glasses, and not a bruise in sight. Short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, and silently laughing, Charlie was obviously amused at something, possibly the pencap he'd bounced off Amanda's forehead, and then he sat down on the couch, casually, next to Amanda, and leaned back and put an arm around her shoulder.

Eyes tearing up, Marie-Ange backed away towards the door, and pulled it open slowly. It wasn't real, there was no way it could be real. It was not Amanda, Amanda was in New York City, and it was not Charlie. She could feel the pair, like she could feel all of her images, silent damnable confirmation that this was her doing, accidental or not.

Closing the door behind her, Marie-Ange leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes. She could -still- feel them, Amanda mussing Charlie's hair, and him rubbing his nose in embarassment.

Wiping away tears, Marie-Ange walked away, down the hall towards the elevators. Dr. MacTaggart would want to know about this, that she was seeing them too. And real or not, figments of a past that never was, they deserved their privacy.

Comments

[xp_daytripper]

*tears up herself* Oh man, Frito, that was just... wow. The little touches, Charlie rubbing his nose, the way Marie-Ange didn't realise until she was in the middle of making two cups of tea... Talk about gut-wrenching. Thank you so much - it was definitely worth the wait.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

I had to go back and read all the Charlie logs to do this one right, and ended up late last night all sniffly because once I started reading them, I couldn't -stop- reading them.

[xp_daytripper]

Heh. Thought you might have to get the little things in. But I have to say, I adore this loglet. Kills me dead, but in a good way.