Power Swap: May The Force Be With You (Sean)

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam had woken up... cold. Which was weird, considering that it was still summer. Almost fall, but still summer. Summer usually meant the pyro could go around in shorts and a t-shirt without a problem, and soak up the heat like a lizard. He could go to bed in next to nothing (or something nothing) and wake up in a warm nest of warm. It had been that way since he’d been fifteen, and first manifested.

So waking up cold in the summer was... weird. He’d blamed the stupid apartment heater, and promptly cranked up the heat, only to be told off by his older brother when he realized that the apartment was about to become a sauna. If Sam was cold, he could put on a sweater.

After telling Kevin that he sounded like their mother, he was told to stop being a baby and get to school.

College classes had been dull, per usual. So much so that Sam nearly fell asleep during his lecture. If only had had that pillow he’d seen on the couches near the reception desk...

Funny, that. Less than five minutes after he thought of it, while staring wistfully in the direction of the door, he was promptly smacked in the damn face with none other than a pillow. Well. However it had happened, waste not want not.

It happened again and again during classes, with smaller things. Wanting his PSP from his bag but not wanting to lean over to get it... boom, instant PSP smacking him in the shoulder. It was starting to get weird.

A sparkly pen from a classmate across the room, a bitching cool plastic Batman ring, and a bag of chips later, things were getting really weird.

Everything but the pillow (which he’d left in one of his classrooms) was thrown into his bag with the vague attempt to find the rightful owners, but by the end of school, that idea was getting... well... unachievable. It didn’t help he was getting a headache. Maybe it was a better idea to go home.

Yet a few texts to and from his best friend later had him convinced that another course of action was required. Why? Because Vincent had just reminded him about who else could magically summon things to him. Who?

Luke. Skywalker.

Sam was a goddamn JEDI. He didn’t know how, or why, but he knew someone that would.

It was surprisingly difficult to find the house he and Vincent had located (after many failed attempts) in the middle of the night, while both drunk and high. Still, with enough determination and patience, he finally found a house he vaguely remembered. Yeah, that stoop looked awfully familiar. He’d know, too, seeing as he’d faceplanted into it.

With his prizes in hand, he marched up the walk way and bounced on his heels as he rang the bell. If anyone knew anything about being a Jedi, it would be Sean.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had not reacted as jubilantly to the loss of his powers. When he had first woken, he had noticed almost immediately that something was amiss. As a telepath, he relied on his powers so much in everyday life that it would be impossible not to notice.

From there, he had spiraled quickly into depression. At least Josh had been home with him, as it had been Labor Day and both Hammel and the court system had been closed for the holiday.

Since that first day, the psychiatrist had not managed to regain his powers. He had barely been able to pull himself from the seemingly bottomless well of despair created by the loss. He was functional, and he had gone to Hammel as scheduled in order to do his job duties. He met with students, he attended faculty meetings, and he offered advice to the extent that he could. However, he could provide no answers to the students regarding the power loss or the unusual new powers gained.

Sean found himself with migraines similar to the ones he suffered when over-extending himself. It was this alone that provided hope. If he had those same migraines, then perhaps his powers were not gone; they were merely suppressed. That he could work with, because eventually they would have to return.

In order to cope, he fell back on old patterns from his days as a student. He played the piano more often, and Josh and he tried to have quiet time.

What he did not need was an unexpected guest. Particularly not when Sean opened the door to find Sam Rixon standing on his doorstep.

Occasionally, the former telepath regretted that he had never erased the memory of his address from Vincent Verax’s and Sam’s minds. Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

“Hello, Sam.” He did not smile. “What brings you here today?”

[Samuel Rixon]

The loss of his pyrokinesis, albeit sad, wasn’t a massive deal to Sam. Sure, he had to get used to feeling cool again in warmer weather, but on the upside... he was a Jedi. A goddamn Jedi. And he had to share the news with the world.

So of course his first stop was Dr. Neville’s house. Once he actually found it.

He actually missed Sean. Not so much the trouble he tended to be in upon seeing him, but there was something almost comforting about him. He was the one that had helped Sam quit smoking pot, after all. No, Sam hadn’t been the model patient when it had come to addressing that particular issue, but Sean had never turned him away when he needed help.

Not having as much access to him now he’d graduated was sad, yes, but now he was going to make up for it. By showing off his fancy new power.

He’d gotten it right! As soon as Sean opened the door, he beamed up at the older man. “Hi Dr. N!” He might have greeted him with a hug as well, but that was hard when his hands were laden with all the things he’d accomplished in summoning. “So guess what! COOLEST THING EVER HAPPENED.” He lifted up his hands to show off the copious amounts of junk he’d amassed during the day. “I’m a JEDI!”

Because that needed no further explanation. Obviously.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean could not explain what had caused so many meta-humans to lose their powers. He could not explain why only some had lost their powers while others remained unaffected. He could not explain why some non-powered people had developed powers while others had not. He could not explain why some of the affected meta-humans had gained new powers while others had been left wholly bereft.

However, he could guarantee beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam Rixon was not a Jedi.

Particularly when his evidence for such a claim involved handfuls of assorted objects from who knows where.

He felt the throb in his temples grow worse, which he might hope meant that, at any moment, his telepathy would return, but which the pragmatic part of himself knew indicated stress. Such as having to explain to a high school graduate that Jedi did not exist.

“Jedi aren’t real, Sam.” His voice did not contain the exasperated bite that such a statement might warrant, which only underscored the higher tolerance he had for Sam’s antics than did some of his former teachers.

Then, because he had to assume this was the result of the same Event, he asked, “Did you lose your pyrokinesis?” If he had, then the former telepath felt safe declaring that this was the result of a new power.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam was a Jedi. Vincent had said so, and when questions needed answering, Sam's best friend was his best source. Yes, Vin was an idiot a lot of the time, but Sam also relied on him for important information more times than he could possibly count. No, his advice wasn't always sound, but Sam didn't care. Best friends were there for one another, no matter what. Especially when that 'what' consisted of no longer being able to make fire, but rather having the FORCE.

So, yes. He was a Jedi.

He had looked so excited standing on Sean's front step, his 'proof' in his hands for his former psychiatrist to see. However, the news that Jedi weren't real caused his elated expression to deflate somewhat. "But... but I seen them! They DO exist!" Granted, Star Wars took place well into the future, so maybe... no one knew about Jedis existing yet because no one expected them to! IT MADE PERFECT SENSE.

Well, to Sam it did. So, he explained.

"I could be the FIRST Jedi! 'Cause they ain't supposed to exist for like a hundred thousand years so no one would expect to see 'em now!" Yes, this made sense.

Still excited over the prospect of being a Jedi knight, it took Sam a moment to register the question he was being asked. Once he did, he shrugged. "I ain't set anything on fire yet, 'n I was kinda cold this morning." He paused, thinking. "I tried turning up the thermostat in the apartment, but m' brother put it back down and told me to put on a sweater like he's my damn mother." Yes, he wanted to complain about Kevin's complete lack of empathy. Sue him. "But I don't even care because seriously. JEDI."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

While Sean also sought his best friend’s advice in difficult situations, there existed key differences between Vincent Verax and Josh. Josh was an attorney with a doctorate in law, the equivalent of having a Ph.D. in the field. He had practiced law for nearly as long as the former telepath had lived in Vermont – over two decades and closer to two-and-a-half. Despite occasional impulse control problems, he never dropped his pants in court. He was thoughtful and intelligent and well-read and he lacked Vincent Verax’s narcissistic streak, as well as being as far from a functionally illiterate doofus as Sean’s temperament was from Cobalt Weaver’s. In this moment, perhaps it was best that the former telepath lacked his powers, because tonight was not the night in which he wanted to have a conversation about Vincent.

“The Star Wars movies take place in the past.” As indicated by the eponymous opening, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...” However, the psychiatrist was not going to bog himself down in an argument about the setting of a science fiction epic when there were other matters on which to focus. “More importantly, they aren’t supposed to happen at all because they aren’t real.”

Most of the Hammel staff had low expectations for Sam Rixon. Between his substance abuse and his poor impulse control, he hardly behaved as a model student. His difficulty with academics and his obsession with the Nazis as a shadow organization responsible for all ill in the world also did little to bolster confidence in his performance, although his difficulty with cause and effect (and in maintaining a timeline of history) did explain his steadfast insistence that he was a Jedi, in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary – such as the fact that Jedi were fictional creations of an American director, based on a famous Japanese cinema epic, in response to the fact that he could not secure the rights to make a Flash Gordon movie.

Finally, however, the young man said something of value. Considering Sam’s power slips, and the dubious state of his control upon graduation, the lack of setting anything on fire indicated an absence of his powers more than care with them. As did the fact that his body temperature seemed more in line with the rest of the population.

He took a gamble with his next words. If Sean was wrong, he would have to quickly call the fire department.

“Do you think you could light my mailbox on fire? I want to see something.”

[Samuel Rixon]

Despite the terrible reputation that Vincent had, Sam loved his best friend. Hated him, too, almost as much and as often as he adored him, but that was just how the boys worked. Yes, Vincent could be a terrible human being, but he was also a good friend. He was the first one to offer to punch someone in the neck that had crossed his friends. He was also the first one to punch his own friends, but that was just Vincent. In Sam’s mind, his best friend was still awesome, no matter what his former teachers thought.

That included his advice on what was currently happening to the pyro. It was genius, no matter what anyone else said. ... Which... apparently included Dr. Neville. Sam eyed him with suspicion. “But they had lasers and spaceships and stuff we still don’t have yet!” How could it have happened in the past when they didn’t have the techno-pathology to pull that off now? It made no sense. Still, he was a Jedi and Sean wasn’t going to deter him. “If it happened a long time ago, how’d you know if it’s fake or not?” Sure, Sean was old, but he wasn’t that old to have been there. ... Sam was pretty sure, anyway.

But he was still quite willing and ready to argue that he was, in fact, a Jedi. It was the only thing that made sense. Jedi knights had the Force, and the Force was what he’d been using all day to accumulate his handfuls of treasures. There simply was no other explanation. Now he just needed to find a way to get his hands on a lightsaber. And Vincent was absolutely not allowed to touch it.

Sean’s request made him tilt his head his slight confusion. “Why’d you want me to do that?” He wasn’t supposed to be setting things on fire, especially outside of Hammel. Yet here Sean was, asking him to do just that. “I mean, I’ll do it. It’s just... whatever. Here.” He stooped to set his things on the ground before eyeing the mailbox. Like always, he waited to feel the flare of heat that generally accompanied the flames flowing from his palms to whatever he was setting fire to. But... it didn’t come. No flames, no heat. Nothing. After a moment more of trying, he frowned. “Guess you can’t be a pyro and a Jedi at the same time.” But if Sean really wanted his mailbox on fire... “I got a lighter, though! Want me to try that?” Yes, because the mailbox on fire was the goal, not testing of powers, Sam.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Vincent had always been a handful. From the first moment that he had arrived at Hammel, he had managed to fail to meet even the most rudimentary of expectations, had caused trouble, had nearly died more times than the faculty could count, and had never failed to surprise someone with an ignorant statement, a misguided practical joke, or a half-baked idea.

For those reasons, Sean did not miss interacting with Vincent on a daily basis, even if he did wish the young man the best for his future and hoped that he developed the necessary skills to take care of himself. For those same reasons, the psychiatrist did not think it wise to take Vincent’s advice about any topic, be it related to powers, to scientific phenomena, to politics, or to romance. Especially romance.

Especially anything.

Sam’s inability to set the mailbox aflame confirmed Sean’s suspicions that Sam Rixon was among those affected by the sudden and unexpected power loss. More than that, apparently he had been one of the comparatively lucky ones, in that he had gained a new ability in place of his pyrokinesis. Although Sean was not a trainer nor a side-effects specialist, he gathered from what Sam had said and demonstrated that he had gained some form of dimensional storage. And that, being Sam Rixon, he assumed that this meant that he had tapped into a mystical Force created by a director in the 1970s for a series of popular sci-fi movies.

He lost that train of thought when Sam volunteered to use his lighter to burn his mailbox down. Instead, all of his focus turned to preventing that calamity, and he sternly said, “No. Hand me the lighter.”

Without realizing it, he also thought Hand me the lighter very hard, in a way that he had never done so before. Without realizing it, he, too, tapped into a power he had gained in lieu of his telepathy.

[Samuel Rixon]

As a best friend, Vincent was also a handful. In the course of a day things could easily go from proposed skydiving from the roof of the school, a junk food run to prepare for the event, any number of distractions to make them forget about their original plans, to rolling on the ground wrestling over something so small most friends wouldn’t even bother to mention it. And Sam loved every misguided minute of it.

Now he was in college, Sam had a woeful lack of time and contact with his best friend, apart from the idiot texts he’d receive in class from time to time with the singular purpose to make him die laughing in the middle of a boring lecture. A welcome reprieve, yes, but not so good when it came to his actual class. Sigh.

But Vincent, dumb as he was, was so right about this.

He’d been thrilled with the prospect of being allowed to burn down Sean’s mailbox. Perhaps he’d finally decided it was ugly and needed a quick way to make it disappear. Or perhaps he just wanted a mini bonfire in his yard. Whatever the reason, Sam wasn’t one to judge, and was quite happy with the idea of helping out. But when he was told to give up the lighter, a small part of him wanted to smile and remain out of reach, toying with Sean in a way he loved to do.

A bigger part of him had him walking over and giving up the little lighter before he even knew what he was doing. Blinking, hand now empty, Sam took a moment to process what had happened. Maybe all the mothering Kevin was doing at him was paying off and making him behave a little better.

... Nah.

“Dude! That was awesome!” Yes, he’d just been more or less forced into doing something he hadn’t wanted to do, but how it was done? So. Cool. “Do it again!”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sam deposited the lighter in Sean’s hand, and the psychiatrist curled his palm around it, before dropping it into his pocket. He had no intention of giving this back to the boy. Sam was old enough to buy another one, and they were cheap enough that Sam could easily afford one. It did not constitute theft in Sean’s mind, particularly since it was a fire hazard and Sam was irresponsible at the best of times. Unable to create fire now, confiscating the lighter no longer seemed a waste of time.

However, upon realizing how he had managed to get Sam to hand over the lighter, the boy’s words mere moments later caused a chill to travel up the psychiatrist’s spine.

He and Sam evidently had vastly different definitions of the word awesome.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. He wanted to sit down.

Only through sheer force of will, drawing on the decades of experience he had in schooling his facial expression, did he manage not to blanche.

“You don’t want me to do it again,” he said, which was more hopeful than definitive on his part. He thought that, if Sam was rational, he would not want to tempt something to happen.

Now, however, rather than depressed and in pain with an ever-present headache, the psychiatrist was afraid that something would happen.

[Samuel Rixon]

Yes, Sam’s definition of awesome was a little skewed, but hey, he wasn’t the one with the amazing Jedi mind powers. It was like Mr. Kil...Camp... something. The blond trainer Sam had been under what felt like so long ago. He had the Jedi mind powers too!

... Holy mother of Chewbacca, Dr. Neville was also a Jedi!

“Dude!” Rather than lamenting the loss of the lighter, Sam was happily dancing around. He might have the Force, but Sean was like... a Jedi Master. Which meant he’d teach him, right? Of course! “You got Jedi mind powers which is even COOLER than the force and holy shit we need to go DO stuff!” He waved his arm in a vague attempt to get Sean’s attention. “C’mon! You don’t gotta do it to me again, but we could go get free stuff! FREE DONUTS.” Naturally, Sam’s feeble mind went right to food, but with Sean and his amazing Jedi mind powers, they had nothing to lose.

“Heeeey. If you’re a Jedi master with mind control powers, can you teach ME to be a Jedi master? ‘Cause I really don’t know how to be a Jedi. I just got all this stuff with the Force, but I wasn’t really... uh... concentratin’?” Not that he ever did, but this was different. “Pleeeeease?”

No, he wasn’t letting the Star Wars thing go. Possibly ever.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Idly, Sean wondered if Sam had always been this irritating. Had his telepathy provided so much protection that he had never noticed before? Or had the boy simply worsened over time? Not that it mattered much, given that Sam had struck a nerve, and his continued inability to grasp the severity of the situation only caused him to burrow deeper under the psychiatrist’s skin. Doughnuts? He was concerned about doughnuts at a time like this? He knew that Sam had never displayed academic proficiency, but could he be truly so devoid of ethics? Or so ignorant as to fail to understand the forces at work here?

“We aren’t getting free doughnuts,” the former telepath said through gritted teeth.

Then, when the young man once again prattled on about Star Wars as though it occupied the same reality as they did, something inside of him snapped. He couldn’t even enjoy the fact that, for once, Sam appeared interested in learning or training his powers, because he had reached the end of his patience, combined with the fact that, for the first time in decades, he felt true fear about his potential powers. Sean didn’t understand why he had lost his telepathy, or how or why he had gained this, but that opened up a wellspring of problems.

Such as keeping himself in check.

So far, he had failed twice.

“Just stop talking,” he said, and, again, his powers pushed that command outward.

[Samuel Rixon]

Sam had made it a hobby to be annoying. With copious amounts of brothers and sisters, he’d had to gain attention somehow, and if being a pest achieved that, he happily went along with it. Being told to so away was always better than being ignored, at least in his own warped little mind. And yes, right now he was more concerned with the chaos they could cause with Sean and his Jedi mind powers.

The denial of his request caused Sam to issue a long, drawn out whining noise, shoulders slumping. “Awwwwww maaaaaaan! But it would be so awesome! C’mon, don’t be laaaaaaame. Vinnie would do it!” Granted, his best friend would also jump from roofs, stab himself, or generally maim himself for fun. Using suddenly gained Jedi mind tricks to get free stuff would hardly be a stretch. Heck, it would probably be the first thing on the agenda.

He was about to try again to convince Sean what a great idea it was to go and use his new powers and to train him on how to do it too when he was absolutely compelled to shut his mouth. Not only that, but even if he wanted to talk, he couldn’t.

Well. Time for charades then. Though it took him a moment to make peace with the fact he couldn’t speak, Sam went back to being annoying and began to mime waving a light saber around. He even took it once step further, pulling out his cell phone and loading up his light saber app. Now he had a light and noises to wave around.

On Sean’s front lawn.

It was awesome being a Jedi.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sam Rixon was not a Jedi. Sean Neville was not a Jedi. Jedi did not exist.

Somehow, all explanations had failed to get the point across to the boy.

In that way, nothing had changed between Sam graduating from Hammel and the loss of their powers/development of new powers. He had never listened, had always been impervious to reality and to critique.

Except now, instead of speaking he had taken to...flailing around with his cell phone. And...was that a picture of a light saber?

Of course it was.

The psychiatrist had never been one for technology. He used it as much as was necessary to function for work and for his personal life, but he could otherwise live without it. He was computer literate and used email, and he knew how to text, but he preferred to speak on the telephone than to use text-based mediums. He still wrote letters in snail mail. And he preferred face-to-face interactions and telepathy to telephone conversations. As such, he did not have any fancy apps on his cell phone, but he knew that an absurd number of them existed.

Of course, one capitalizing on Star Wars existed. He would be surprised if it was only one. Of course Sam Rixon had it on his phone. Of course, he would use it as though it was a real light saber rather than a digital image on an over-priced personal phone.

“Sam, stop it,” he said with a sigh. “Just...stop.”

[Samuel Rixon]

Sadly, Sam would insist he was a Jedi until he was proven utterly wrong. So far, simply being told clearly wasn’t enough. Sean just wasn’t listening to him. ... Or maybe he was trying to keep his Jedi identity a secret. That was also entirely possible. Hmm.

Well, until he was willing to admit it, Sam was happy to play with his light saber app, merrily swinging it around and delighting in the whooshing noises that went along with the motions. If only Sean would stop being lame and not admitting to being a Jedi, then he could totally download the app onto his phone too, and they could have a light saber battle before going off to Jedi mind trick people into giving them free stuff. It had worked for him all day, after all.

The Force was awesome.

He was about to try to convince Sean in a brilliant display of charades that they still needed to go off and Jedi with people when the stop command was issued. For a moment he was more amused by the fact that he couldn’t really move. Jedi tricks were so awesome! But the amusement wore off after a few moments, and his facial expression turned from elation to panic. And he couldn’t even tell Sean to quit it, because he’d already been told to stop talking. This couldn’t be good.