Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters and stories belong to NBC and Dick Wolf.
A/N: Post Aftershock. I'm writing another post-ep for Aftershock because I also want to capture Claire's views on her death. The song I'm using is Ghost in my Head by Jill Hennessy (fitting, no?). This song always makes me think of Aftershock. Please review. Thanks. Love, Lawabidingchild.
Ghost in my Head
My God, I feel so cold. I can feel the life slipping from me as I lay here helpless. No one dares to move, speak, nay move to get me out.
It just stays cold.
Lennie, stop standing there gawking and quit blaming yourself. I know that you're there. I can't see you or hear you, but I know it. This isn't your fault. It's coming quickly. Tell Jack it was quick. Tell him.
I can't feel my legs, arms, head. I just lay here, cold. I can't see anything but black. I can't hear the faintest noise or feel the faintest touch. I know what everyone is dreading to know. I can see the white light in the distance. It's shining like a beacon to safety. The guiding light means one thing and one thing only. It's a dead giveaway to what I know.
I'm dead.
The lights are still on, at 4:00am,
On the tree in Washington square,
And the cold's scared the dealers
Back into their holes
Til the sun brings them up for air,
Bare feet walk in boots too blind
To find socks in a silent escape in the dark,
With a song in my head, my belly filled with lead,
I go walking round the park,
Looking for a different something to happen to me -
Oh where did you go my sweet child,
No, don't you play these games with me,
I'm up then i fall,
And sorry through it all for loving so blindly -
You came for a time but you weren't really mine
So you leave me here just bleeding,
And i walk through the snow,
Too sick to let go and not ready for the healing,
Not ready for you to leave
You're nothing but a ghost in my head,
Some hope i had,
Something left unsaid,
And i didn't really know you at all
So how come i feel so small,
So small,
I can't feel you at all.
I'm dead. That I know. I cannot feel Jack's presence, but I want to see him. I'm free of my body now. I can go where ever I like. I can come and talk to Jack as many times as I want. There's no stopping me.
I want to tell him to stop crying. That it's over. It's done. I'm dead. He can't bring me back. But I can't physically materialize in thin air. I just have to make him believe that I'm there and I always will be. I'm praying that he can find happiness with another woman. I just want him to try. To make sense of everything in life. I want that for him.
Jack. I can see him. He's crying. He's reading off something. It's a eulogy. It's about me. I can see his swelling eyes and hear his breaking heart. I'm standing right there and he doesn't even see me. Maybe it's meant to be that way.
Maybe it's death that makes me invisible.
It was a diamond sharp day
When they took you away from me.
All the sad friendly smiles
As we walked down the aisle
To that place that you never see.
And i thought of goodbyes
And turned my eyes
To the glare all around me-
And there i was with your picture in hand
Underneath a butterfly's wing,
Under a butterfly's wing…
You're nothing but a ghost in my head,
Some hope i had
Something left unsaid,
And i didn't really know you at all
So how come i feel so small,
So small,
I can't feel you at all.
I'm sitting alone on a cloud above the skyline of New York City. It's beautiful from above. I've never gotten a chance to explore it this way from a plane. The people look like ants and I see cars so far away that I could cover ten of them with my hand from where I'm sitting. This birds-eye view of the living is the most pleasant experience I've ever had. Though I miss human contact.
I know people stop at a burial site for me every once-in-a-while, and Jack goes every day after work, but I keep thinking that maybe contacting me from where you're standing is much more complete. I know people have a thing about talking with a real human body, but all we are in death is a spirit and a decomposing body. This body will rot and it won't move. There's no point. Just talk to me where you are. In bed. At home. In the office.
Talk to me anywhere you like. I won't be offended because you're not in front of my body.
Jack. Can he hear me? Is he listening to my silent pleas from above? I can hear him. I can see his lips move as he haunches over my grave and lays down a bouquet of red roses. Then he talks to me. About every day stuff. I listen and hear him.
But it pains me that I'm not there. I can't touch him. I can't hold him. I can't kiss him or make love to him. I can't even talk to him.
And I, a mere spirit, start to cry, wishing that he would open up a dream for me to enter.
It was a diamond sharp day
When they took you away
In that place that we cannot see,
All the sad friendly smiles
And the "sorrys" for miles
Under pretty pink butterfly wings
You're nothing but a ghost in my head,
Some hope i had
Something left unsaid,
And i didn't really know you at all
So how come i feel so small,
So small,
I can't feel you at all.
He's dreaming. I can hear his breathing as I swoop in closer from above. He's twitching. Something's up. What is he dreaming about? Maybe I can peek inside his head for a clue. I can search around and try to talk to him.
I made the decision to sneak into his head and try and tell him things I should have told him.
I felt him stir. "It's okay, Jack," I tell him, "it's only me."
"Claire?" he asks uncertainly. I nod tearfully. A ray of hope glistens in his eyes. I made the effort to swim around a little bit. "Aren't you-?"
"Yes, Jack," I confirm for him. "I am dead. That doesn't mean we can't talk."
"Claire," he breathes. My heart swoons when he says my name. I long to touch him. I long to hold him. But I can't. I'm a spirit. He's a living being. We can't make physical contact.
"Stop beating yourself up Jack. And tell Lennie to do the same. It's neither of your faults that I'm dead."
"I would be easier not to do if you were alive. I can't even touch you."
Jack ponders for a moment. He looks at me then trails back off to his thoughts. I float there in exceedingly long silences.
I poked out of his head for a little while and found his dresser drawer. It was locked but I could easily slip inside. The perks of being a spirit. You can fly into anything without much required effort. I noticed a jewelry box and poked my head inside that thing. Inside was an engagement ring. That ring was what he wanted me to come over for that night. I feel guilty for dying. He wanted to pop the question. He wanted to propose. To me, Claire Kincaid. I ceased snooping, slipped out of the drawer, and flew back into Jack's head. "I know where you went," he scolded me.
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I love you. I always will. Just promise me one thing."
"What?" he asks me, curious as to what I have to say.
"That you'll find someone who makes you just as happy as I have made you. And that one day, you'll let go of that ring. It doesn't have to be right now, but when you do, make sure that it's because you found that someone who'll be there with you for eternity. I love you. You love me. We love each other. But you have to go find someone else. You have to let me go Jack."
"Claire wait-!" he orders me as I start to leave his head.
"I love you. You can talk to me whenever you want. I'm always watching over you. Just don't rely heavily on me."
"I love you, Claire!" he screams as I begin to fly out of his head.
"I love you too, Jack," I breathe (if one could call it that) as I exit his head.
My body's cold, my spirit's warm, and my love for Jack professes. Even as the ghost of Claire Kincaid (who now sometimes gives Lennie Briscoe a hard time for a little bit before telling him that she's joking around), I can still see the world as it was when I left it.
You're nothing but a ghost in my head,
Some hope i had
Something left unsaid,
And i didn't really know you at all
So how come i feel so small,
So small,
I can't feel you at all.