Conversation Between Jace and Rosie; Lost in Writers' Limbo

"Rosie, is that you?"
"Aye, Jace." Rosie voice held an evident level of frustration.
"Why can't I see you?"
"For the same reason I can't see you. We've been forgotten."
"Forgotten!"
"Aye. This is what happens when fictional characters are forgotten...we end up floating in... Jace, what is this we're floating in?"
"Mud."
"...Mud? Jace. You can't float in mud. Mud is a non-floating substance."
Jace considered this for a moment.
"No. No, this is most definitely mud."
"It isn't. It's....misty, floaty, silenty stuff."
"It isn't. It's mud."
"Where are you floating and why can I hear you? You surely aren't near me...*I* am not floating in mud."
"I don't know why you can hear me. I don't even know where I am. ...I wish someone would turn the lights on."
"How did you do that??" Rosie demanded immediately after Jace's last syllable was uttered.
"Do what?" Jace--as usual--had no idea what Rosie was talking about.
"The light! There's a light over there! Like it's at the end of a tunnel...."
"Don't go near it! Stay away from it! Rosie! Can you hear me?! Lights at the end of tunnels are fatal!! Rosie! ...oh...wait...I see it too."

Jace did indeed see it, for it was growing larger and slowly permeating the misty air surrounding them. (Jace was not floating in mud. Not even I know what he was talking about.)
"What's happening?" he asked in confusion.
"I...I think we're being remembered!"
Slowly but surely Jace and Rosie were becoming visible to one another.
"Hello, Miss Tracer," Jace said as Rosie appeared.
"Hello...." Rosie stopped short. "Jace...what are you wearing?"
Jace looked down at himself. "I'm not really sure. I don't dress myself, you know."
"Mmm." Rosie mm'd thoughtfully. "I'll speak to Restless Native about it. We'll see if we can't get you a change of clothing--something which doesn't shout 'I have identity issues'."
Jace was torn between sputtering at this and suggesting a more helpful course of action; he chose the latter.
"No, speak to Femme Fascinante about it. She's much more open-minded about my identity."
"That's true, that's true." Rosie responded a bit absently--she was watching as the light became brighter, but she couldn't stay focused on it for long; she really did want to know why Jace was dressed as a Space Ranger...and just who had dressed him anyway? She turned back to him, ready to comment again but she stopped short.

Jace looked like Jace again.

"How did you do that??"
"Why do you keep asking me that?! *You're* the psychic! Sheesh...it's like you think I know everything...."
It was true. Rosie couldn't argue it.
"Hey! We're going down," Jace cried. And they were. Conversation was impossible at this point and it continued to be until Jace and Rosie were once again standing on solid ground--and, wouldn't ya know it, Jace landed in a puddle of mud. The irony of this, however, didn't strike him as both he and his fellow detective had forgotten about their previous conversation (it was erased from their memories, actually) as they re-entered the world of TLM....


"Rosie, you've got to learn to be patient."
Rosie internalized her response to Jace and simply continued walking down the sidewalk.
"'With patience cometh virtue," Jace quoted...only he couldn't remember where he'd hear it. Still, Rosie didn't answer...verbally. She didn't answer verbally. But Jace missed the non-verbal communication...poor thing.
"I learned that long ago," Jace continued, "and it's helped me on many occasions."
Rosie bit her lip. She wondered at how the man couldn't see the patience she was exercising at that very moment.
"Jace, I understand. I must be patient. But, really, can you blame me for wishing that Kevson, for ONCE, would have that brother of his write up the reports--which are so critical to our case--in a timely fashion and *not* after the next girl has been murdered?"
Jace had to admit he could not blame her. In fact, he himself wondered why that brother of Kevson's had such a difficult time of it.

Little did Dectectives Buntley and Tracer know what were the reasons behind the tardiness of that brother of Kevson's........

Patience is a Virtue, apparantly in short supply these days

The TLM will end one day... one glorious day, when young children will be singing in the streets, and the New York Times will be putting it on the best-seller list.

Until that time, however, we must be patient. Yes, indeed, we must exercise that most blessed of virtues, which enables us to quietly endure those difficult moments of our lives, when we would like to become irate, to give in to our base desires of instant gratification, to be impatient and hasty.

But no... good things come to those who wait. And wait we shall, until the appointed time.
And of that time, no one knows the day nor the hour, and it shall come like a thief in the night.

And then it will be arrested, by American Detective, Jace Buntley.


Thank you, thank you.
RN

TLM Will Never End

haha. I'm writing on the page because RESTLESS NATIVE obviously isn't going to.

tee hee

tee hee

tee hee

And, so, Jace and Rosie are caught in this sort of time warp...thingy...which has....warped them....quite badly, actually. And there they are. Just warped. Frozen, really. In place. Yes, frozen in place and unmoving until the Restless Native returns with...the special...potion...to warm them again. Ah, yes...the special potion Jace and Rosie are so addicted to....

dun dun dun..........

coffee.

Rosie's with cream. Jace's just black.... like his heart