Chapter Text
It took a split second for Rachel to look away and for Jamie to feel what she hadn’t felt in years. She had felt Michael’s attacks on the Dangertainment crew, she knew that much; she had felt it so strongly that she had sworn it was like Michael was attacking her. Just like it had been when Michael had killed the kindly, nameless hermit. Just like it had been when Rachel’s namesake had died. It seemed to happen over a long distance, as opposed to when Jamie and Michael were face to face.
It was a stab through the heart. It made no difference even as Jamie collapsed, feeling the poor, hapless, nameless victim’s death throes. It always agonized her when she didn’t know the victim’s name. They had to be more than just someone that her uncle killed.
Michael was on the move. And he was angry.
In between his familiar bouts of rage, Jamie felt something else: there were snippets of her running away, in his mind. Her, running away in fear and grief in 1988. Her, running to trick him in 1989, and later just to get away. Her, running to protect Steven in 1995. That was how he saw her. Always running, rarely stopping. Except for the corn thresher.
Jamie still remembered the pain. She had been rescued thanks to a Good Samaritan finding her barely alive on the corn thresher and calling 9-1-1, but she carried the scars still on her chest. (Billy didn’t care about her scars, any more than she cared about the scar on his lip)
But that was how Michael saw her. Always running away from him.
He didn’t know or care that she had a reason.
She could hear Rachel and Steven’s voices through the fog. Through the pain. And it was enough to ground her. Pull her out of it. Enough for her to tell them to go in the house and dial 9-1-1.
Billy carried her inside. Through the fog of her vision, Jamie could see his worried face. He was there. Always there, just like he was in 1989.
Her family was there. They needed her. And she would protect them from Michael, no matter what.