Power Swap: Here There Be Monsters [Sean]

Sean didn’t have fast reflexes. Before the loss of his telepathy, his reflexes had been excellent for a man his age, but since the loss...the problem was that he wasn’t entirely in reality which made responding to outside stimuli difficult. Which was why driving hadn’t been the best idea, but Josh didn’t drive which made operating the household impossible if he was out of commission. Additionally, he was needed at Hammel, which was why he’d returned to work the day after the discovery.

He wasn’t as useful at Hammel as he could be, but he faked his way through meetings and tried his best with paperwork. Meanwhile, he saved all of his negative emotions for home, where he immediately retreated to bed, because he didn’t want to burden Josh further. He was unable to hide his misery but he no longer attempted to discuss his fears, his emotions, his baggage, the nightmares, or the feeling of suffocating in silence.

He also wasn’t eating

So with an empty stomach and a clouded mind, he had taken his car to the streets of downtown Pilot Ridge, and even though he’d seen the red light, it hadn’t registered as quickly as it should. Then there was a person in the street and he swerved to avoid hurting him, and he’d succeeded. Thankfully. He didn’t know what he would do if someone had been hurt over this.

Then the person was yelling at him, muffled through the closed windows, and he exited the car, intending to apologize and check that the other person hadn’t been hurt. “I’m very sorry, I-”

And then he noticed it was Cobalt.

Not what he needed at all. The only benefit was that he wouldn’t be as aware of Cobalt’s dislike due to the silence in his mind. And still the thought depressed him.

“I hope you’re not hurt.”

The other man was obviously angry; Sean didn’t require telepathy to notice that. Despite the crutch of his telepathy, he remained capable of reading facial expressions, hearing tone in voice, listening to word choice, and interpreting body language. All of those told him that Cobalt was angry.

Some of that anger was to be expected because he had almost run Cobalt over with his car. Some of that anger was to be expected because Cobalt was an angry, bitter, little man who lashed out at other people. Some of that anger was to be expected because Cobalt didn’t like him.

Expectation wasn’t enough for coping, and he didn’t have it in him to cope with that right now. He couldn’t handle his own emotional baggage, let alone another person’s, let alone Cobalt Weaver who had enough baggage for the entire town.

The question was harsh, and he instinctively stepped back against his car. “Back with my telepathy, wherever that might be.” He was morose as he spoke those words; despite it having been a few days, he still wasn’t used to the thought.

The thought still made him feel empty inside. He didn’t like the emptiness because he thought it might kill him.

“My partner doesn’t drive and can’t take me to work,” Sean reminded him, not caring for the other man’s tone. He felt miserable enough already without needing to be reminded of his deficiencies. “He can’t run any of the errands that require a car.” That was what motivated him to take the car on the road in the first place; time wouldn’t stop for him, even if he desired it to.

Then Cobalt accused him of being dramatic and his expression shifted from the morose one to a deep frown. The other man didn’t have the slightest notion of what he was saying, and worst of all it got to him.

“I’m deaf,” he informed Cobalt, emphasizing that because it was obvious that the shorter man had never contemplated what it was like for a telepath to use his powers. “And I hope that your lack of compassion is only because you’re talking to me, and doesn’t extend to anyone else, because having that attitude with anyone else who had a disability is disgusting.”

He didn’t have the energy to keep that to himself, not today, not when he felt so miserable, not when Cobalt was dismissing his real trials and pain as though they were nothing. “And when I look in Josh’s eyes, all I see is pity. So please don’t presume to know what I’m dealing with.”

Sean’s filter, his ability to bury remarks because he could see the consequences of those remarks, his ability to care about other people, people who didn’t even like him and put their needs before his was severely hindered by the crushing loss he’d suffered by his telepathy’s evaporation.

The filter was gone. The result wasn’t cordial.“What is it like to have such tunnel vision that this is all about you? I apologized to you, but I didn’t do this purposefully. I didn’t seek you out to try and hurt you, bother you, or otherwise ruin your day. And. You. Started. Yelling. At. Me.”

The psychiatrist stared down at Cobalt, but then had to shield his eyes when a burst of light occurred, causing him to turn his head. Obviously Cobalt had inherited someone else’s powers, but he hadn’t lost the most important part of himself, and he wasn’t completely powerless. “I can think of a thousand places I’d rather be than having to be the more mature person with someone who can’t even muster an ounce of sympathy for another human being.”

He laughed bitterly and turned back towards his car, because he couldn’t handle the bright light and he didn’t want to stare the other man down. “Despite how much you dislike me, I was happy Josh was your friend because I thought you needed one and he’s as good as they come. I suppose I still should be happy you have someone who’s so impervious to other people’s misery that he can’t notice how badly your foundation has crumbled. And he'll still have you long after I'm gone."

That had been on his mind more often. He didn't think he had the fortitude to survive this.

Sean’s telepathy might no longer exist, but he remained a psychiatrist, and he still had memories of everything he had ever sensed, heard, and saw in Cobalt. He could connect the dots easily enough and his diagnosis was brutal because of it.

Unfortunately, Sean was incapable of listening to the other man’s internal monologue and thus could neither react accordingly or simply hold the information for future use. With his back to the other man as he readied himself to get back into the car, he couldn’t see his expression. Because none of his senses compensated for the loss of his telepathy - the mind/body connection was just as broken as it felt - he couldn’t hear him storm over until it was too late.

He felt himself jerked forward when Cobalt grabbed his collar and then...

...there was pain, and his head jerked back, partially from recoil and partially to avoid a second impact. He tasted blood, and he resisted spitting; instead he lifted his arm and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, the white shirt now stained with red.

He was surprised, because he was always surprised by physical violence. Not that he put this past Cobalt because the other man was a ball of rage and his need to verbally lash out was indicative of willingness to go further.

He narrowed his eyes, staring down at the shorter man, because a line had been crossed; this had turned violent. “I hope you enjoyed that. The last partner I had who used to hit me certainly did.” Then he ran his tongue along his lips, feeling for the burst; upon finding it, he sucked it into his mouth instinctively, trying to seal off the blood.

His words were muffled as a result. “And I wouldn’t ever presume to be the only person suffering in this world. I have forty-two years worth of memories and thoughts that aren’t mine to prove that.”

With that, he was shoved backwards into his car, the metal hit his back but not too painfully, fortunately there had only been a few inches between him and the car. He reached back with one hand to brace himself.

“I bother to put other people’s needs before my own,” he retorted, letting his lip slip from his mouth. “And if that’s the only difference between us as far as you’re concerned, I’m happy for it.”

He rolled his neck and looked down at his sleeve; seeing his own blood there sickened him. He glanced back at the lawyer. “Joshua Bernstein is my entire world. I don’t care about friends; I don’t care about my job; I don’t care about the property I own; I certainly don’t care about your regard. And I can’t even touch him anymore. And that makes him miserable, which I can’t fix. So if you want to take another shot and project all of your self-loathing onto me, then go ahead. I’m the Goddamned Nowhere Man.”

The psychiatrist was slammed painfully hard against the car; pain seared through his back, and the brunt of the impact was in the area that always hurt in the mornings, the area that he had to tend carefully to at night to make sure he didn’t turn over and wake himself up, ruining another night of sleep. Both hands moved back to try to catch himself, failing in the task of bracing him for the impact. “I didn’t,” Sean hissed, and he could only hiss because of the pain radiated through his spine. “You said I bother to hide that I’m broken; I corrected you. It doesn’t work that way...” But he didn’t complete his thought because Cobalt continued to talk, and the attorney had no frame of reference for how Sean operated because he didn’t know him at all.

When the shorter man stepped back, the psychiatrist didn’t move, waiting for Cobalt to move an acceptable distance away. But he didn’t, and after a moment of listening to profanity and insults and a complete misunderstanding of his point, he reached out and grabbed the other man’s arm. “You are extremely fortunate that I don’t have access to my telepathy right now,” Sean informed him, his voice cold. “Because the last time I was this unstable, I wiped someone’s mind clean, and the person who reconstructed him has been dead for seven years.”

His hand tightened around Cobalt’s arm, squeezing hard; he didn’t have the strength of his youth, but he was upset and he still had the size advantage. He grabbed the collar of Cobalt’s shirt with his other hand and yanked him off the ground so they were now at eye level. “I’m not the Nowhere Man because I have nobody in my life; I’m the Nowhere Man because there’s a black hole inside of me, which is going to swallow me up from the inside if I don’t spend every waking moment fighting it.”

He let the other man dangle, a foot off the ground and unconcerned about whether Cobalt might kick him because he didn’t care anymore. “And all I wanted to do today was buy some pimento cheese so Josh could have his favorite food. But I couldn’t even do that much for him.”

That the other man didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the statement infuriated Sean; he couldn’t check his mind, couldn’t determine whether it was defensive posturing or a true inability to understand, and he had to use normal verbal cues. The cues told him that Cobalt didn’t understand. It was terrifying; it had terrified him when it had happened, and he’d come to Robert nearly inconsolable as he rushed to explain and beg for help.

Every natural instinct urged him to beg Robert for help, but going to a grave site would accomplish nothing but upsetting Josh. He didn’t want to upset Josh further because his partner didn’t deserve any of this. And he feared that if he didn’t tread lightly, if he didn’t pick up the slack in shouldering this burden, Josh would run away again. That his partner would see how much he’d lost and might not recover, would grow tired of the role reversal, would get angry at how he recoiled from any intimate touch and simply make the decision to leave.

Then he would be alone in the house, not merely alone in his own head. Then what little fortitude he retained would evaporate like his telepathy had and then...

The flash of light surprised him and caused him to loosen his grip on the shorter man’s collar, dropping him in the process as he turned his head to shield his eyes. It was painfully bright and he was envious that Cobalt had something to compensate his loss, not only that but something so similar to his other powers.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he informed the lawyer, his tone still icy. “I don’t have the resources.” He couldn’t even heal himself; he certainly was no longer in a position to try to heal Cobalt Weaver.

“And you’re right, they do.” He had been in a better position than most to take note of that fact; no psyche was completely whole, not in this world. Sean lifted one hand, shielding his eyes in case Cobalt released another burst of light. “But at least with the telepathy, I had bits and pieces of other people which almost made me whole.”

He took a step forward, advancing on the other man, and he reached out to grab him again, yanking him closer. His words were more rushed than previously in this argument. “But now...now I don’t even have enough of Josh in me to make him happy anymore. But that isn’t enough. Now I get to go home and lie to him about why there’s blood on my shirt and hope that one more little lie won’t hurt.”

Sean Neville wasn’t merely shaken by this; he was completely unraveled.