- Author Note -
Apologies to all for the delay, there are numerous reasons for it, not all of them good. Mostly I have been having trouble deciding where exactly I want this story to go, in large part because I found myself investing more time than I expected in research. This chapter should give you a good idea of the potential direction the story may take. But there is a lot more yet for Jacob to learn.
--------
When Jacob awoke his first thoughts were of Brea, and the fact she was missing from the bed. He'd fallen asleep with the comforting weight of her draped across him like a thick blanket. Undoubtedly he would have been left numb and sore after a time with even her slender form on top of him, but it had been a good feeling all the same.
Along with Brea most of the candlelight was gone as well, leaving the room in shadow, with just the dim light of a single candle to see by. Jacob was relieved to see Brea curled up in a chair beside the shifting flame. And amused when he saw that she was wearing his discarded t-shirt.
Bill Murray would probably be happy to know that his face decorated such wonderful breasts.
One of the trays of food rested on a small table beside her, and she was happily devouring its contents, ignorant of Jacob's eyes on her. He took advantage of her distraction, drinking in the sight of her, open and unguarded. There was nothing special about it, she merely ate, but in Jacob's mind every movement, every expression was fascinating.
And she eats with her mouth closed!
Which is clearly more important than sharing a common language.
Jacob shook his head at his thoughts, the movement drawing Brea's eyes. She smiled around the piece of bread she was eating. She tore another hunk off the bread still on the tray and threw it to him.
Jacob reached up to catch it and found his hand closing over empty air. The piece of bread darted around his hand, curving mid flight, coming to an abrupt halt directly in front of his face. He jerked back from it, surprised and stared at it hovering there.
And it was hovering there, floating in space unsupported. It started to spin, then began moving in random directions, causing his eyes to dart rapidly to follow its movements. Apparently it made an amusing sight because Brea began laughing at him.
"Are you?" Jacob asked her, tearing his eyes away from the bread, "You are! How?"
Brea fought back her laughter at his wide eyed expression and raised her hand to point at him.
"You now," she said simply.
"Me?" Jacob uttered softly, face blank for a moment, forcing down his sudden burst of eagerness.
"Yes," Brea replied, and the bread dropped from the air onto Jacob's chest.
It sat there on his chest, rising and falling with his breath, his mind racing with the possibilities. He almost didn't want to try, as he felt the sudden fear of failure, that the impossible that had become possible before his eye would suddenly be impossible once more.
"How?" he said softly, even as his mind bent to the task.
It can't be as simple as willing it to move, there has to be more...
The bread lifted off his chest the moment he started consciously thinking of it doing so. And it was utterly effortless, he pictured it moving with his mind and it did so, as simple as if he'd used his hand. Easier even.
Another impossibility. This entire world is impossible.
Yeah, but you've got to admit this is beyond awesome.
Jacob made the bread dart around the room, marvelling at the fact he was moving something with his mind, marvelling at the fact there was so much he had yet to understand about this place he found himself in.
"Is there more? Can we do other things too?" he asked Brea, bringing the bread back to rest in his hand.
She shrugged at him, it was obvious that she didn't quite understand, or did not know how to convey the message to him.
"Okay so I'm going to have to wait to find out. Unless," Jacob said to himself, looking down at the bread, "Movement. Kinetic energy. Heat?"
Even as he spoke his mind was working, a very rough image forming of molecules moving within a small part of the bread. Heat was essentially movement, if he could make things move, surely he could make them hot.
He pictured them moving faster, hitting each other. It was more the concept of molecules rather than an exact form, but it was enough.
A flame appeared from the bread as the heat caused it to spontaneously combust. Jacob was suddenly glad he had only pictured that tiny part in his mind and not the whole piece, as he quickly blew it out before it could burn his hand.
"Jacob," Brea breathed the name, her eyes wide and shocked, coming to stand beside him, taking the bread from his hand.
His shirt was too large for her slender frame, too long for her height. But that just made it hang down just far enough to hide what lay between her legs, but not far enough that it did not hint at it. Jacob was painfully aware of that fact, eyes locked on the fabric that threatened at any moment to reveal her to him.
"Jacob!"
Brea grabbed him by the head, bread crushing against his cheek forgotten. She pulled his gaze to hers, eyes pleading with him for something.
"You didn't know," Jacob said, as the realisation came to him, "You don't understand."
Brea nodded to him, understanding his tone if not his words.
"How Jacob? How?" she asked, voice soft but urgent.
He paused to ponder that himself. It wasn't that he'd imagined heat, or fire, that wouldn't have worked or Brea would have been able to do it.
It was that I understood it. That I understood what heat was.
And there is no way I can explain that to her. Not with mime.
"I'm sorry Brea, I can't explain," Jacob told her, holding her hand, "I want to, but."
