Power Swap: I Don't Believe (Josh)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This occurs the morning of the Power Swap.))

Sean and Josh had developed a routine now that Bailey lived with them. Sean woke as early as ever in the mornings, although now Josh no longer had the luxury of sleeping in the way that he once did. Instead, one of them would put on the coffee, while the other woke Bailey to give her time to get ready for school. Then Sean would cook breakfast, and the two men would take turns in the bathroom while they showered, dressed, and prepared for their respective days.

Their previous morning distractions were reserved for weekends, vacations, and holidays now. Such were the obligations of parenthood.

Wakefulness came quickly to Sean, and he rolled over beside his partner, before finally climbing out of bed. He ran a hand over his face before donning his robe and tightening the belt around his waist. He went downstairs as part of his routine and began the coffee for the morning. Then he went back up to the bedroom to take his turn in the bathroom before his partner.

After finishing with his shower and his shave, he came back into the bedroom to dry and dress for the day.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he patted the younger man’s foot. “As much as I love to watch you sleep, it’s time to get up.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh was a heavy sleeper in the best of times; his newfound (but as yet unrealized) power only contributed to the difficulty in dragging himself awake. Ordinarily he would have awoken while Sean began his routine, but the bed was so comfy and he was so tired that seemingly nothing could awaken him from his slumber.

Until, that, is, Sean patted his foot.

He jolted awake, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Pardon? What time is it?" He yawned, stumbling out of bed. "I feel so...exhausted."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean withdrew his hand when Josh bolted upright. His expression quickly melted into a frown at his partner’s remark and he tilted his head to the side. Josh hadn’t felt particularly warm when he’d touched him, although his head and torso temperatures were more reliable than that of an appendage.

“The coffee’s already on, and I finished my shower.” This was evident by the fact that his hair was damp, and Sean was clad only in a towel. He’d have to begin getting dressed in a minute or two. “How do you feel otherwise? Does your head hurt? Do you feel feverish?”

If Josh was under the weather, Sean wouldn’t make him go through with their typical morning routine. The psychiatrist was more than capable of waking Bailey and helping her get ready for school, and also preparing breakfast, himself. If Josh needed a ride to the doctor, then Sean could do that as well.

However, given what he knew of his partner’s dream habits, it was possible that he’d had a particularly bad nightmare, and he was thus exhausted from that. If this was the case, then Sean would make sure that he had two cups of coffee before leaving the house today.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"No...no, my head doesn't hurt. I feel fine. Just tired." Josh waved Sean's concerns away with a yawn as he trudged in the direction of the bathroom. "Nothing a shower won't cure."

And he was correct; the water splashing on his face perked him up enough that once he stepped back into the bedroom he had enough energy to focus on dressing and other morning routines without lagging too badly.

"I had the oddest dream last night..." He remarked casually. Ever since they had discussed his dream troubles all those months ago he'd felt slightly more comfortable discussing when they occurred.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean trusted his partner to give an accurate assessment of his physical condition. As such, when Josh waved off his concern, the psychiatrist made no further attempts to inquire. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well after all, and thus that had interfered with his REM cycle, and thus his physical and mental conditions.

He would simply have to make sure that Josh drank more than one cup of coffee before he left the house today. More than one cup of coffee, coupled with a hearty breakfast and some fruit should do the trick.

While the younger man showered, Sean took the time to dry himself and then dress. He had been in the process of tying his tie when Josh reentered the bedroom and made his remark. Sean turned around to face his partner, inquiring with a slightly less casual, “Did you?”

He expected that Josh would elaborate. Ever since the younger man had revealed the depth of his nightmares, Sean took particular interest in the content of his dreams. Considering that Josh dreamt regularly about zombie hoards and violent revolution, he couldn’t fathom what qualified as odd as far as his partner was concerned. However, the psychiatrist wanted to find out.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Well," Josh began as he rummaged through his sock drawer, pulling out a black pair. "I was in Pilot Ridge, alone, and everything was dark and quiet and creepy. You were the only person I encountered, which was really a relief, the whole ghost town thing was freaking me out. But then when I tried to talk to you I couldn't speak!"

The idea of not speaking was pretty horrifying for Josh; he relied so much on his ability to talk.

"We wandered around the town until we got to my office, and then..." He shivered at the memory of the mouthless person they had found there. "I really don't know what brought it on, I haven't even watched any advertisements for horror movies lately."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had expected in-depth details about the nightmare, since Josh’s nightmares – by his own descriptions – were quite vivid. He had expected something different from the zombie nightmares, because his partner had made a specific point that this was unusual for him. The psychiatrist hadn’t been certain of what, precisely, he should expect, given the apparently limitless depths of the younger man’s imagination.

However, he had not expected that.

The color drained from Sean’s face as he listened to Josh casually describe the typical setting of one of Sean’s recurring adolescent nightmares. One updated for the present, rather than his stressful early years of telepathy and the anxiety and fear that they invoked, but which still contained all of the same significant symbolism. One that he had dreamed last night

The older man shook his head, not in denial that Josh had experienced this, because it was so detailed. Rather, it was disbelief that his partner could have any experience with this dream, could have any knowledge of it at all, because Sean had never mentioned this to anyone but Robert.

He was sure that he couldn’t be projecting. Even if he hadn’t had that nightmare in a couple of decades, he didn’t have power slips. He hadn’t unwillingly projected anything to another person in almost forty years.

“That was my nightmare,” he whispered, his full attention on his partner. “That is my nightmare.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Sean's response was unexpected and alarming, and the attorney dropped the sock he was holding on the floor. Now one foot was cold and bare, but he paid that no heed, blue eyes instead focused in intent shock on his partner.

"Your nightmare?" He repeated, slack jawed. How could that be possible? Perhaps if he and Bailey had shared a nightmare then that would be easily understood, given her powers, but him and Sean? Sean had never said anything about nightmares with mouthless people and eerie ambiance. Maybe they'd had similar nightmares based on the news the night prior.

He thought back, brow furrowed as he dredged up all of the dismal current events he'd been outraged over and came up with nothing that ought to have given them both the same dream.

"Are you sure?" He had little hopes the telepath would recant; of course Sean would be well aware of his own dreams. "That hardly seems possible, though. I'm not Bailey."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t require telepathy to know what his partner was thinking; this was why he had yet to notice that he lacked his powers. He remained pale, trying to work through this matter as well, because it made no practical sense, and he had no explanation. “I had a variation of it several times a week for more than a couple of years. I’m sure.”

It was built entirely on telepathic symbolism, anxiety, fears, and stress. There was no reason for Josh to experience it. Particularly since Sean was certain that he, himself, had dreamt it last night. He recalled quite vividly his confusion, albeit comforted elation, at finding his partner in town, so that neither of them was alone. He recalled the sense of familiarity, because he had been there before.

“No,” Sean agreed. “You aren’t Bailey.”

That led to a number of questions, which caused the still affected psychiatrist to begin pacing the length of their bedroom.

“Perhaps I projected,” he mused aloud. That should be impossible, since powers didn’t expand randomly with age, even with his power level. His powers didn’t permeate dreams, which had spared both himself and Josh over the decades.

Finally, he turned to face the younger man. “May I read your mind?” The question implied that it would be a more invasive touch than the skimming of surface thoughts, which was why he asked.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh wrung his hands nervously as he watched his partner muse aloud regarding this situation. "Projected?" He repeated, both hopeful that this could be the answer and uncertain what that would mean for the future. Sean had never projected a dream to him before; how could they prevent it in the future?

Perhaps they wouldn't, and he would simply have to live with it. At least knowing would prepare him. That was mildly comforting.

The request was met with only a moment of hesitation before he acquiesced with a nod. "Go ahead."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Projection was theoretically possible, although Sean did dismiss the possibility out of hand. He hadn’t projected unconsciously in decades, and he wasn’t under any degree of stress beyond the ordinary, certainly nothing that would cause that magnitude of power slip. Even with the unsettling nature of the nightmare, this was still not so far out of the ordinary as to cause a power slip.

Which led to the necessity of Sean reading his partner’s mind.

It wasn’t that he expected the younger man to refuse; Josh knew Sean’s needs, his ethics, and the nature of his powers. With the permission granted, the psychiatrist closed his eyes so as to block out all distractions. Then, he reached out for the close, familiar signal of his partner’s mind, intent to checking through his recent memories for a glimpse of the nightmare, and...

Nothing.

Frowning with his eyes still closed, Sean reached out again, and, as if trying to grasp thin air, he came up empty handed.

The psychiatrist shook his head before his eyes flew open, the color remained drained from his face. His breath caught in his throat as he whispered, “I can’t do it.”

Something was very wrong. Something far worse than a shared nightmare or a power slip. His telepathy wasn’t working, and that was a notion so foreign to him that he couldn’t begin to process the full effects, certainly not the cause.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Pardon?"

The words Sean uttered were unexpected. Judging from the sudden lack of color in his partner's face he wasn't the only one startled by this revelation. Or perhaps startled wasn't the correct word; no, the other man looked far worse than startled.

"Do you feel well?" He furrowed his brow in concerned confusion. "Sit and I'll go get the thermometer."

To his knowledge illness had never suppressed Sean's telepathy before, but that was the only explanation he could come up with. Unless a power suppressor was lurking directly outside their house, but that seemed unlikely.

Then again, this was Pilot Ridge and students did occasionally discover and hunt down their therwpist's home. "And I'll check outside. Maybe someone is pulling a tasteless prank."

He tried to keep his voice confident and cheerful; Sean looked so miserable and he didn't want to compound that by showing too much worry about it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“No,” Sean whispered, shaking his head quite firmly. He suddenly did not feel well. In fact, he had never felt this way before, the complete and utter lack of his most cherished and ubiquitous sense. While he remained aware of the fact that they had yet to resolve the issue of their shared nightmare, his attention was elsewhere.

The apparent loss or misfire of his telepathy was far more important to him than the origin of a shared dream with the man with whom he shared his bed every night.

The psychiatrist sat down on the bed, not needing to be instructed twice. He laid his hands at his sides, gently gripping the bed sheets. While he couldn’t say for certain that there was nobody outside playing a prank, he felt comfortable saying, “There’s nobody there.” This was not the way that a power suppressor felt. Besides, they needed to be within the same room as other meta-humans, and he and Josh were alone in the sanctity of their bedroom.

Sean closed his eyes again, focusing with all of his attention to find Josh’s mind. To find Bailey’s. To find their neighbors’. Unfortunately, he was greeted only with silence, and the deafening lack of mental noise made his stomach flip.

[Joshua Bernstein]

The pale, tense expression on Sean's face was the deciding factor in not searching outside their home. Instead he crossed the room to the bed, sitting gingerly beside the telepath.

"Can I get you anything?" He placed a hand on his partner's shoulder, rubbing gently. The nightmare was forgotten for the moment.

His exhaustion wasn't, however; he bit back a yawn, fighting the urge to lay back down now that he was on the bed again.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

This wasn’t possible. This shouldn’t be possible, particularly not if he had somehow managed to project his dream unconsciously in the middle of the night. To go from that type of power to none at all didn’t follow the natural progress of psychic abilities, not even with the terrifying thought of some sort of mental lapse, like dementia.

He was certain that he didn’t have dementia, as that wouldn’t come on all at once, and he otherwise felt fine.

At the question, Sean shook his head. He could feel the warmth of his partner’s touch through his shirt, and he opened his eyes, turning to look at the younger man. “I don’t know what this is,” he admitted, his voice soft and small, now faced with this situation that he couldn’t begin to approach. Not knowing the cause, he couldn’t begin the task of determining what he wanted or needed.

He wanted and needed to feel Josh’s thoughts again, but he didn’t know how to do that. His focus wasn’t working, and the silence was terrifying. He realized that non-psychics lived every day of their lives with this silence, but it was unnatural for a telepath, and it made him feel disconnected and so very adrift.