[I've reclaimed the use of my imagination]

[howmanylives]

We all wait for signs. That sounds spiritual. Maybe even superstitious. That's not the sentiment I'm aiming for. Because no matter who you are... Skeptic or believer... You're waiting for a sign. Where you fall on the spectrum dictates only what kind of sign you're waiting for. Detectives, for example, wait for -- and actively pursue -- clues. They

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[segaboybrodie]

Brodie hadn't slept

[howmanylives]

"Call it a New Year's resolution," replied Jamie, peering at Brodie through his fingers before he let his hand drop back in the water. To this day, he wasn't entirely sure why the guy liked him all that much, but Brodie's friendship was a more welcome constant than the unchanging scenery. Wading forward a couple of feet, he pressed his hands to the rocks, and jumped, hoisting himself up onto land in one clean motion -- a bit of elegance to make up for his earlier lack of coordination.

"Not to die, obviously," he added hastily.

[segaboybrodie]

"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea," Brodie said. He'd heard that some guy had DIED On the island instead of just disappearing, and was pretty sure there weren't about to be any RETCONS on the island to undo it if Madrox bit the big one.

"So what's the deal?"

[howmanylives]

"The last time I went swimming was during the hurricane," Jamie said, with a frown, clearing some water out of his ear. He was skirting a dangerous line, he knew, thinking about that weekend -- thinking about why he'd dived in the first place, to save Moira -- but it was surprisingly simple to keep his spirits up

[tearsthrulife]

It was just about the last thing Rahne had expected to see on her way past the waterfall. She remembered all too well what had happened there, of course - or what had almost happened, to be more specific - and however far Jamie had come since the day he'd decided it would be a good idea to try to take his life, this still struck her as being pointedly unusual. At least it wasn't in any kind of bad way. After a few seconds of standing there, arms folded over her chest and eyebrows raised expectantly, she let out a laugh of her own, one corner of her mouth hitching up in a smile as she walked closer. "Nice move, there," she said. "Need a hand?"

[howmanylives]

It's sort of anticlimactic, in a way. I expect my heart to race. My breaths to turn shallow. But I've already been in the water since my suicide attempt, albeit not willingly. Maybe enough time has passed since then that the initial panic has long subsided. It's not like I don't know how to swim, after all, even if I spent one day almost two years ago desperate to forget.

Pushing back both hands through his hair, Jamie looked up at Rahne from his place in the water, utterly unabashed at having been caught. He always worked better with an audience, anyway, even if it was more or less just himself.

"I am the epitome of grace," he deadpanned, one eyebrow arched just slightly in return. "It's no wonder they let me teach acrobatics."

[tearsthrulife]

"Of course," Rahne deadpanned in return, "ye've proven ye have all the criteria right here." Somehow, it seemed better to look at it in that light than in the context of the last time she'd seen him in this water; if he wasn't going to say anything about it, then she wasn't, either, not this far down the line. They'd both been there, and it wasn't going to do either of them any good. "Don't worry, yuir secret's safe with me, I won't tell any of the other students."

[howmanylives]

"I knew I could count on you," he said jokingly, for all that the sentiment was sincere. She'd been there, after all, on the day they'd pulled him from the water, sputtering, choking, gasping. But then, Jamie supposed, Rahne'd been there for a lot of things. It was strange to think how long they'd know each other, how many crises she'd seen him through, he'd seen her through.

"It's kinda weird, right?" he added after a beat, wading towards the shore. "Me teaching you? Then again, I suppose it's no stranger than me teaching Layla, but... Well, it's not exactly detective work, now, is it?"

[erstwhore]

Mark Sloan had gone for many walks this month. Leisurely walking, it seemed, might as well be declared the official sport of the island of Tabula Rasa. It wasn't just an exercise anymore, it was a way of life, a ritual. But for Mark, who couldn't remember when he had last had the time to dedicate to such a pointless activity, it was just plain boring. Rather, it was quickly becoming boring; the first few days hadn't been so bad, back when his walks had some purpose, even if he could hardly call it exploration. He was getting acquainted with his surroundings, which made it moderately acceptable, but not anymore. Now, it was just getting ridiculous, and he was getting bored of being so bored he had no choice but to take a stroll. (Soon, he would be getting bored of getting bored of getting bored

[howmanylives]

By most accounts, his is probably the more normal reaction. When you're met with an imperfect mirror of yourself, there are only so many ways to cope. Fear. Fascination. A degree of narcissism. I see my own face on another man's body, free from all the reminders of my own mess of a life -- no scars, no tattoo -- and underneath the sharp pang of envy, there's a sense of being at home that I haven't felt in nearly two years.

He's not me. That much is for sure. But he's close enough that I can't help but let out another laugh.

Wading forward a couple of feet, Jamie lifted himself out of the water with a lot more grace than he'd gone in in the first place. Dripping as he went, he carefully made his way over to his would-be dupe, and extended a hand.

"Well, hello there, handsome," he greeted with a wry arch of his brow, his head tilting to the side as he looked down. "I'm the ghost of Christmas past."

[erstwhore]

Understandably, it took Mark a moment or two to recuperate. It wasn't every day, after all, that he found himself face to face with - well, with himself. (This excluded, of course, any instances involving mirrors.) Once he had recovered slightly from the shock, Mark pushed himself back up to his feet, his eyes fixed on the other man even as he dusted off his jeans. Carefully, he edged closer, squinting in the sunlight for a better look.

"That," he started, wagging a finger for emphasis, "is phenomenal work. The tattoo's a bit overkill, but still. Who's your surgeon?"

[howmanylives]

Jamie let his hand drop back to his side. His eyebrows shot upwards, making friends with his hairline. He'd always known that there was a man with his face in another universe -- had met him, once, in a dream, though that wasn't the sort of thing he could easily drop into conversation -- but it was somehow different, now, seeing him in the flesh.

Damaged goods. It's clear enough when I'm by myself, but compared to him, someone who's healthy and whole, it's all the more glaring. My sense of self-loathing hasn't gone anywhere since I lost my powers, but with the reminder of what I used to be able to do, it's harder to ignore.

"Mother Nature," he replied, folding his arms over his chest, a futile attempt at covering up his scars. "This is my face, Doc, or didn't someone give you the memo about clones?"

[butterflyfactor]

Layla sauntered up to the water's edge and leaned over, hands on her knees and oversized terry cloth cover-up swinging around her arms. Her hair, neatly divided into long twin pigtails, slipped over her shoulders to hang above the water.

"I'll give it a 6, but you're going to have to do a lot better to impress the Russian judge."

[howmanylives]

Layla wasn't here when I tried to kill myself. Hell, that was part of the reason I tried to kill myself in the first place, that I hadn't been able to find her. There were other mitigating circumstances, too, like the baby, like Terry, but... A lot of them boiled down to her and the failure she represented. Funny how times change.

"I've never like Russia anyway," said Jamie, waving off the concern with a dismissive gesture. It was true enough; the dupe he'd sent to live in Moscow for a year and a half had hated it, and he'd had a rough go of it with some Russians in Chicago once upon a time, too. "They can impress themselves."

[butterflyfactor]

"They're Russian," Layla said, "they frequently do. Little gun shy today?"

Jamie had a thing about water, which she understood, see: the drowning attempt, although the fact that such a thing had ever occurred still rankled badly with her. She should have been there to stop it. More precisely, it never should have been attempted- and though there was nothing she could have done to control when she, or he, arrived on the island, she was still sore about it.

But only ever internally.

[howmanylives]

"I'm in the water. How I got in the water does not dismiss the fact that, currently, I am in the water," said Jamie, wading forward to rest his arms on the edge of the rocks. He stared up at Layla for a moment, a look that was almost challenging crossing his features.

"So, no, I'm not gun shy."