[ after their blowout, emma legitimately thought faraday was gone for good — or as much as he could be, tied to the town as he was. but she knows he can make himself as visible as he likes, and if he didn't want her to see him, she wouldn't. it's what she expects, really, to (at the most) catch a glimpse of him before he's gone again, to see him out of the corner of her eye but never that warm, easy smile. never that roguish grin so often followed by an absurd joke or a tall tale. never faraday and that presence he'd brought around to brighten up her home.
she thinks he meant what he said, and she finds that loss sits in the pit of her stomach heavy as his death had done.
it's like he's died all over again, she realizes, and that aches. she can't put it into words, or describe why it hurts so terribly, but emma is hardly herself for days after, enough so that others in town notice. she brushes off their concern with a small smile, assures them that it's nothing more than a few restless nights keeping her up. (teddy is especially worried about her, expresses concern that she's out at that house all alone and that sure can't be good for a lady like herself.
she tells him exactly the same: that she's completely fine.)
it's not until things start to...move that she realizes faraday is actually there.
coffee already ready and waiting. a properly stoked fire when she knows she hasn't gone to touch it herself. newly chopped firewood to keep the house warm (because the winter chill has truly set in now, uncomfortable as it happens to be). she's utterly confused by the gestures at first, because while she knows it means faraday is there, she hasn't seen him, hasn't said a word to him, hasn't had the opportunity to so much as thank him.
she tries one night, to at least show her gratitude for the appearance of a blanket while she sat sleepily in a chair. she hadn't quite drifted, but she'd been nodding off, shivering a bit, and then that throw had been settled over her, the weight enough to make her open her eyes.
no one in the room; not a single whisper of faraday, but the gesture was there all the same.
"Faraday?"
when she hadn't gotten an answer, she just sighed and curled up with the blanket again, mumbling a quiet, "thank you," as she drifted.
the worst part is that she feels she owes him a real apology for their last interaction. the things she'd said had been far from kind, even pushing towards unfair, and she realizes after that making him feel so shamed and angry wasn't her intention at all. in fact, the entire thing had gotten so out of hand that she's embarrassed by how quick and cruel her temper had proved to be. even if he had caused a scene in town, he hadn't deserved that level of treatment, and she shouldn't have let him rile her up.
and she sure shouldn't have slapped him.
that still gives her pause when she thinks on it. she can still remember the feel of his skin under her palm, because she had hit him, truly had, and he'd felt just as much a person as the next man. he'd felt near alive, though she knew that was impossible. couldn't be reality.
not with his body six feet under in that pine box.
but all the same, she knows that she'd touched him, and if he's that solid, she nearly wonders if others in the town had bumped into him, if they had started to see him? what manner had his existence taken on that he was able to be so...human? spectre that he is, dead and gone for all intents and purposes, she didn't think it possible, that she'd always pass through him for that icy brush with death, but that had been far from the feel of a ghost.
they need to talk, she finally decides, and she wants to know if that physical aspect has remained or if he's just as noncorporeal as he'd been before (and she also wants to...try to apologize for the lines she crossed; "try" being the operative word). she's not sure how to get him to show up, given how much he's been avoiding her, but she does notice that the playing cards move every day, always in a new space, and well, it wouldn't surprise her to know he's still practicing his tricks.
one evening, after the sun's properly set, emma finds the cards on her table. pursing her lips, she scoops up the deck, carrying them over to her dying fire, and holds them straight out over the embers. ]
Joshua Faraday, you have to the count of five, and then I'm droppin' these right into the hearth.
how do you adult
she thinks he meant what he said, and she finds that loss sits in the pit of her stomach heavy as his death had done.
it's like he's died all over again, she realizes, and that aches. she can't put it into words, or describe why it hurts so terribly, but emma is hardly herself for days after, enough so that others in town notice. she brushes off their concern with a small smile, assures them that it's nothing more than a few restless nights keeping her up. (teddy is especially worried about her, expresses concern that she's out at that house all alone and that sure can't be good for a lady like herself.
she tells him exactly the same: that she's completely fine.)
it's not until things start to...move that she realizes faraday is actually there.
coffee already ready and waiting. a properly stoked fire when she knows she hasn't gone to touch it herself. newly chopped firewood to keep the house warm (because the winter chill has truly set in now, uncomfortable as it happens to be). she's utterly confused by the gestures at first, because while she knows it means faraday is there, she hasn't seen him, hasn't said a word to him, hasn't had the opportunity to so much as thank him.
she tries one night, to at least show her gratitude for the appearance of a blanket while she sat sleepily in a chair. she hadn't quite drifted, but she'd been nodding off, shivering a bit, and then that throw had been settled over her, the weight enough to make her open her eyes.
no one in the room; not a single whisper of faraday, but the gesture was there all the same.
"Faraday?"
when she hadn't gotten an answer, she just sighed and curled up with the blanket again, mumbling a quiet, "thank you," as she drifted.
the worst part is that she feels she owes him a real apology for their last interaction. the things she'd said had been far from kind, even pushing towards unfair, and she realizes after that making him feel so shamed and angry wasn't her intention at all. in fact, the entire thing had gotten so out of hand that she's embarrassed by how quick and cruel her temper had proved to be. even if he had caused a scene in town, he hadn't deserved that level of treatment, and she shouldn't have let him rile her up.
and she sure shouldn't have slapped him.
that still gives her pause when she thinks on it. she can still remember the feel of his skin under her palm, because she had hit him, truly had, and he'd felt just as much a person as the next man. he'd felt near alive, though she knew that was impossible. couldn't be reality.
not with his body six feet under in that pine box.
but all the same, she knows that she'd touched him, and if he's that solid, she nearly wonders if others in the town had bumped into him, if they had started to see him? what manner had his existence taken on that he was able to be so...human? spectre that he is, dead and gone for all intents and purposes, she didn't think it possible, that she'd always pass through him for that icy brush with death, but that had been far from the feel of a ghost.
they need to talk, she finally decides, and she wants to know if that physical aspect has remained or if he's just as noncorporeal as he'd been before (and she also wants to...try to apologize for the lines she crossed; "try" being the operative word). she's not sure how to get him to show up, given how much he's been avoiding her, but she does notice that the playing cards move every day, always in a new space, and well, it wouldn't surprise her to know he's still practicing his tricks.
one evening, after the sun's properly set, emma finds the cards on her table. pursing her lips, she scoops up the deck, carrying them over to her dying fire, and holds them straight out over the embers. ]
Joshua Faraday, you have to the count of five, and then I'm droppin' these right into the hearth.