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He could hear nothing except the slow, rhythmic beating of his own heart against his chest, tapping out a reminder that he was still alive and that Shiloh was not. Ian rubbed wearily at his eyes, which were still dry, but his body ached as though he'd run miles.

There was a crunching sound; the corner of the box had smashed in on itself, curling downwards, and Ian watched it tensely, as though it might suddenly fly out and hit him. He still couldn't be certain that what was happening was actually...well, happening, but something was happening, that was for damn sure.

Ian lifted a hand, pressing his fingers against the cool metal of the pod briefly.

"I ******** miss you," he said, the words bursting out of his throat, louder than he wanted. He dragged a breath back in, reeled in the impulse to scream, and dropped both his hand and his voice lower.

"You keep me sane," Ian mumbled, and it was hard to say, hard to admit, but there it was, the words stumbling over his tongue, thick and clumsy. He was not used to admitting anything, let alone feelings that even he wasn't sure about. "Come back already, ******** dammit."

This time he did not freak out or back away or deny anything; instead, Ian just watched silently as the little box of crackers inched back towards him with halted, unsteady motions. After several moments it lay next to his feet, and cautiously Ian reached out a hand. He hesitated, fingertips inches above the crackers, and then he grasped the box and pulled it up, turning it over to look at it.

He had not been hallucinating; the corner of the box was definitely crumpled when it had not been several minutes prior. Ian took a great, shuddering breath and then dropped the box of crackers back onto the floor, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. He pulled it out, flipped through the contacts list, and found the name he was looking for.

"Okay," Ian muttered. "Okay. We'll try it your way."

Shiloh was tired now, and would need a brief respite before moving anything again. He stared dismally at the box of crackers as Ian picked it up, studied it and put it down. Arguably crackers probably weren't the best method of getting his words across, but it was the first thing he thought of and, judging by Ian's reaction, he wasn't sure any other choice would have made much difference.

Ian set down his phone and the room settled back into quiet, the both of them sitting at a sort of standstill. Shiloh needed the rest before he tried again, but he was afraid to try again, afraid that it wasn't going to work. But he couldn't give up, he'd have to find away. He needed help.

Thus, it was to his surprise, but also to his delight, when Jack entered the room, looking particularly smug. Shiloh lit up as well, sliding up from the floor with a grin.

"Well, speak of the devil."

Jack didn't have to say anything about that: his half-smile said it all for him. The first step to fixing a problem was admitting their was one after all, and at least Ian was swallowing his pride to do this.

Granted, he would have bothered Ian with the evidence after he had consolidated everything anyway, but this was a much sweeter route to take.

"I know I am," he stated briskly, pulling out the artifact and tilting it to show the Mist. A blip kept sounding off on its screen. "This is specifically geared to let you read where he is, or any spirits for that matter. That beep you're hearing is the artifact telling you there's someone here with us."

Rather than asked to hold the artifact, Jack instead pulled from his coat pocket a runic camera to offer Ian. "In case that isn't enough, have at it. Go ahead and take a photo in . . ." He scanned the screen again and pointed in Shiloh's general direction. "There. How about posing for the camera, Parish?"

Ian would have rolled his eyes, but that would take too much effort. "Quit smirking," he growled, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, taking a breath to relax himself. The camera was certainly not what he had expected - though Ian really wasn't certain what he had expected - but it made him simultaneously nervous and confused.

For the first time, there was a tiny, small smidgen of hope that maybe, just maybe, Jack had been right. Ian turned the camera over in his hand, testing it, and then, taking a small breath, held it up and pointed it in the direction that Jack had said, his finger pressing down on the button.

Click.

There was a whirring sound, a small hiss, and then the picture slid out of the bottom. Ian made a grab for it, nearly dropping the camera that he shoved back into Finn's hands, and stared at the picture as it slowly began to take form.

It was hard to see anything at all; the image was oddly dark and grainy, as though the picture had been taken through something fuzzy. But, as Ian kept looking, he could see the makings of a figure hovering in midair, and his heart gave a stupid, silly, ridiculous leap.

He looked at Jack, mouth slightly agape, and then at the spot he had just taken a picture of.

"...Shy?"

“I told you I was right here,” Shiloh said once his laughter subsided, sobering a bit as he watched Ian, his face hopeful.

It was easier now, now that Ian was slowly given in, the way he stared at the exact spot where Shiloh stood as if he could actually see him, as if he wasn’t actually… Well, the important part was that jack had made hope entirely possible, had become and unexpected ally and undoubtedly, now, a friend. He was stuck with Shiloh now, as was Ian, of course.

“Very funny, Jack, remind me to thank you when I get out of all this, and that I owe you one friendly punch as well.”

Shiloh resisted using whatever energy he had to throw the box of crackers at Jack and instead wasted no time in tugging at the pen in Jack’s hand. He didn’t lift it, wanting to conserve his energy for writing, but the pen would wobble just a bit, and Jack would definitely be able to feel it.