Re: [B&B: Nish & Atticus & Aiden, entrance]
At first, she thought that Atticus was talking to her, telling her to stay out of the way. But then she noticed that his eyes were focused to the side and behind her, and she understood he was speaking to James. She turned then, looking approximately where Atticus was, but she didn’t see him. Still, she tried to smile in his general direction, and though she didn’t see it, he smiled back.
Her head turned back to Atticus as he gave her something to do, call the funeral home to let them know. She nodded, grateful, and backed away a little before turning and heading back to his office. Empty now, as far as she could see, but James saw the crowd of other ghosts milling about in the safety and familiarity of the office. Nish took a breath and then headed over to Atticus’ desk, quickly finding the rolodex he mentioned and then after a few tries found the phone number to the funeral home. She sat and dialed, the knowledge that someone had just died weighing a little on her. She didn’t even know the woman, but a fellow human being had died. Somebody knew her. Someone, somewhere, would fall into mourning at the news, she was sure.
Loki was silent, but watchful. James lingered nearby, settling himself on the edge of the desk next to her, and placing one ghostly hand on her back in comfort as she spoke to the person on the other end. She didn’t consciously notice the touch, but a sense of calm, of comfort, did settle on her when he touched her, giving her a little more confidence as she explained the situation and asked for someone to come by to collect the woman’s body. When she was done, she hung up the phone, but didn’t immediately get up. She didn’t need to see her. She would just be in the way anyway. And the way Atticus had spoken to James…she had a feeling he didn’t want to be there either. So she stayed in the chair, glancing around at the pile of books and papers around her, and then seeing that same flicker again next to her on the desk.
She looked up, saw nothing, but kept looking. Hoping. She didn’t want to see him, broken and bloody, she wanted to see him as she remembered him. But right now, she’d take what she could get. Slowly, the longer she looked, the more she thought she could make out his form. His outline. “James?” she asked, a whisper, a plea. It seemed to pull him even more into existence, so that now she didn’t have to trick herself into believing, he was there, if still insubstantial. She smiled, and he smiled back.