Writing Challenge: 150 stories. Go.

[Admin!]

This is Mads and Tony's favorite.

Two years ago, the admins challenged themselves to write stories based on 300 prompts. They completed it in two and a half months. Last year, they challenged Hammel to write 100 stories in one month. Hammel rose to the challenge.

This year, we're raising the bar. 150 stories. Go.

The rules:

• Characters must be Hammel-related, but the ficlets are not site canon unless explicitly stated.
  
• Alternative universe interpretations of characters are allowed.
  
• Entries must be between 300 and 2000 words.
  
• You can enter as many ficlets as you wish
  
• Ficlets must be titled with the prompt and prompt number.
  
• Staff will update the prompt list as often as possible, striking through filled prompts.
  
• Do not write a prompt that has already been filled.
  
• You may claim a prompt by posting in this thread with that prompt. You then have 24 hours to complete it and edit the post. After 24 hours, the post will be deleted.

1. Overload 2. Dry 3. Triceratops 4. Settled 5. Swear 6. Graphic 7. Lost 8. Solemn 9. Kind 10. Expectations 11. Highlight 12. Slipping 13. Assembly 14. Cathartic 15. Jar 16. Tumblr 17. Facebook 18. MySpace 19. Email 20. Post 21. Fortune 22. Strike 23. Forsooth 24. Stiff 25. Special 26. New 27. Infant 28. Startled 29. Haunt 30. Lucid 31. Dalek 32. Carrot 33. Sharp 34. Wistful 35. Fable 36. <3 37. Injury 38. Common Sense 39. Goodnight 40. Let Go 41. “Did you do it?” 42. Daily 43. Wax 44. Four Score 45. Patent 46. Patient 47. Squished 48. Fork 49. Scramble 50. Orlando

51. Unwelcome 52. Encore 53. Gallon 54. Screwdriver 55. Bifocals 56. Totem 57. Dive 58. Billion 59. Million 60. Single 61. Translation 62. Marsupial 63. Secret 64. Model 65. Hush 66. Guinea Pig 67. Reasonable 68. Expanse 69. Avocado 70. Oak 71. Altar 72. Alter 73. Stapler 74. Deodorant 75. Supermarket 76. Cryogenic 77. Babied 78. Silent Film 79. Quick Draw 80. “What’s wrong?” 81. Timely 82. Fade 83. Magnetic 84. Stoplight 85. Winsome 86. Mode 87. Unexpected 88. Slip 89. Invitation 90. Scrabble 91. Bawl 92. Brawl 93. Universal 94. Devout 95. Nomination 96. Enchanting 97. Rubber Ducky 98. Enjoy 99. Meme 100. Clockwork

101. Bagel 102. Slower 103. Faster 104. Pity 105. Never 106. Always 107. Companion Cube 108. Meddling 109. Pierce 110. Throne 111. Iron 112. Steel 113. Dead or Alive 114. Sleek 115. Swim 116. Sleepless 117. Recruit 118. Enthrall 119. Egg 120. Karaoke 121. Louder 122. Softer 123. Ferret 124. Laundry Day 125. Adopt 126. Participate 127. Precipitation 128. In a Relationship 129. Disinterest 130. Physical 131. Emotional 132. Spiritual 133. Open Door 134. Dungeons & Dragons 135. Fortitude 136. Constitution 137. Agility 138. Charisma 139. Paper Thin 140. Eviscerate 141. Metal 142. Selection 143. Stone 144. Jet Set 145. Bacon Cheeseburger 146. Solitaire 147. Thrall 148. Style 149. Darkness 150. Happy Birthday

[Danicca Waylan]

128. In a Relationship

Set in that AU that Nu and I made.
This is for her. ♥

Robbie was probably the most nervous he had been in his life.

More nervous than when his father told him, at seven years old, that he would "do great things" at the first boarding school he had been sent to. More nervous than when he had waited for the news about the kid he'd hurt when his power first manifested, or when he'd waited to see Dani again after the comical disaster of their second date. He wasn't sure anything he'd been through in his life so far was even remotely close to this.

Okay, so there was the fact that he had dealt with Dani and the men in her life. That was a pretty terrifying encounter, and he had been rightfully nervous, but that was more of a fear-for-his-life than what he had right now, which was just general nerves.

Right now, he was at the fair, with Dani's hand placed firmly in his and her footsteps making tracks in the dirt next to his. As far as Dani was aware, this was just another date, them wandering through and playing games. This was exactly how Robbie wanted it to be--if there was any trace of his nerves or any hint that something different was about to happen, Dani would immediately start asking questions, and he wouldn't be able to hold her curiosity off for long.

There was a game booth that Robbie recognized, and he stopped, telling Dani he'd win her something nice from here. He shelled out the three dollars required and threw the ball, getting every bull's-eye needed for the large stuffed panda bear hanging in the corner. Once the game runner handed it over, Robbie turned to Dani. "So I know it's not a red panda, but they don't have those just sitting around at a fair." He grinned and handed the panda to her, and she hugged it, smiling at him the entire time. Then she pulled the panda away and looked at it quizically, her face going blank when she spotted what was around its neck.

"Sunshine?" Dani asked, her voice mild. "Are you aware you just won a diamond ring with three dollars?"

By now, they were in a clearing in front of the stage, where the band had just finished setting up for the night. The lead guitarist noticed Robbie and started getting his band to pay attention. When the opening chords played, the blonde watched as Dani's eyes widened and she looked at the stage, then to her boyfriend. He knew she'd love it. He'd stolen her iPod while she was in the shower one morning for the express purpose of finding her favorite love song, and found that the most listened to song out of her entire collection (comprised of quite a few raps and Female Power kind of bands, not to mention all the 80's rock and 90's grunge) was, shockingly, the Universal Sweet Love song: To Make You Feel My love.

Once he listened to it, he realized that was the thing Dani was always humming that she never told him the name of.

He untied the ring from its place around the stuffed animal's neck and slid it off of the string, smiling nervously. He kissed her on the forehead, and rushed to speak before she could get anything out--although, that wasn't looking like much of a problem: Dani was staring at him as if she were trying to work out a complicated and worrisome puzzle.

"I know we've only been together for, oh I dunno, forever. But I want you to know, I've had this planned for years but I just, well, I didn't know when to ask. I wake up every morning hoping you'll be the one I sleep next to at the end of the day. I don't want that feeling to ever go away. I love you, Dani. I always will. I can tell." He dropped down to one knee, loosened one of her hands from the deathgrip she had on the panda, and presented the ring. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Dani stared at him for three seconds, blinking tears out of her eyes. Robbie began to worry that she might say hell no and stomp away, and promptly told himself to shut up. He focused on Dani, her eyes, the cute way she bit one side of her lip when she was trying to hold something back. She finally opened her mouth to speak, and Robbie braced himself.

"Robert. James. Wilkes." Her voice was unsteady. "I cannot believe you had this planned for so long." She dropped down and threw her arms around his neck, dropping the panda and hugging the blonde tightly.

"So, is that a yes, or...?"

Dani pulled back to look at him, and her smile was the most amazing thing right then. "You idiot." She shook her head. "Of course it's a yes."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#4 - Settled

They shared many similarities which made them a good fit. Both were exceedingly passionate, both were friendly, both were photogenic, and both were sentimental, although only one would admit this readily while the other would vehemently deny. They both also had masochistic tendencies, although their tendencies emerged in different spheres of life.

Josh’s tendencies emerged when he was alone in the big house they shared.

The attorney had been left alone for two days thus far, with another four to go before the telepath returned home from his conference. Josh had been invited, and while he didn’t mind the thought of a week’s vacation or visiting a strange place or being alone while Sean went to meetings and workshops, he hadn’t gone. It had been impossible because of the deposition scheduled for the middle of the week; the entire case was time-sensitive, and putting it off would have been irresponsible at best and could have gotten the case dismissed at worse.

So instead, he had the house to himself for the entire week. The first night, he’d gone out for drinks with Janice after work, and today he’d had lunch with Cobalt and Riley. But none of his friends were interested or available to get dinner tonight, which left him home alone.

After eating a sandwich and drinking a beer, it occurred to Josh that he didn’t have any hobbies. None that could keep him occupied while his partner was on the other side of the country. None that could be done in the absence of friends.

The attorney had tried to watch television, but he’d become infuriated. Sitcoms were mindless, reality shows were dreadful, and the news programs were all either Fox News pushing something obviously false about immigration reform or the other news networks trying to place both sides rather than accuse Fox outright of lying for fear of being branded “liberal.”

He’d turned the television off with a huff, but there was nobody for him to rant to.

Josh had even called his mother, but she was out with some of her friends from the retirement center. Truly, he was alone and there was nothing to do. He couldn’t even focus on The Annals of Imperial Rome which he knew by rote, because his thoughts went back to the telepath. He wondered what Sean was doing right now. It was too early for the nightly phone call, and he had to bide his time until then.

Somehow, he’d cracked open some of the photo albums. Because Sean was photogenic and sentimental, and Josh was quietly masochistic.

The telepath had what seemed to be a million photo albums, dwarfed in number only by the number of journals that the attorney knew he kept in the attic. The albums were filled with pictures from childhood, pictures of his family, pictures of friends, pictures of places he had traveled over the years. Pictures of exes.

There were too many pictures of exes.

The album in his lap had pictures of Orion and a large family that had to be Orion’s family. All of them dancing and drinking and celebrating what looked like it was a wedding, but Josh wasn’t sure because he didn’t see any pictures of a bride. Everyone looked happy; Sean looked happy, and he had one arm slung around the other man’s shoulders.

Josh felt his stomach knot. It didn’t matter that the pictures were decades-old, because the jealousy and insecurity were instinctive. Sean had been happy without him.

No matter what his partner said, he could never quite set aside that knowledge. Sean was capable of being happy without him.

So he didn’t know why the telepath settled for him at the end of the day. He’d had an endless parade of partners over the years, any one of whom could have given him a family and a happy life. What was Sean doing with him? Particularly since, given how the other man had reacted to his suggestion of adopting or fostering, Josh sometimes didn’t think Sean even wanted to have a family, not with him.

Left alone, and being honest with himself, Josh couldn’t fault the other man for that. He knew he’d done a poor job of giving off the family man impression over the past three decades. He supposed it was fair that Sean wouldn’t trust him completely after breaking up the first time and would hold it against him; it was fair that Sean would hesitate to expand their family for fear of Josh ending the relationship again and for children to be caught in the middle.

He supposed it was fair that he was the backup. The attorney knew that he’d treated Sean that way so many times over the past decades; why shouldn’t he get the same treatment?

Still, the telepath could do better. And photo after photo of people better than Josh proved that. He felt terrible that he was weighing Sean down; he felt terrible that some part of him was glad of that, because he knew that his partner kept promises and would never leave him for someone better. That instead he’d just give up hope of trying for someone better.

Sometimes he wasn’t a good person and the knowledge would confront him all at once.

Too many photos of Orion made his stomach queasy. Feeling ill, he shut the album abruptly and dropped it onto the coffee table with a loud thud.

Now he felt miserable and guilty. He hoped Sean was having a better time than he was; the selfish, insecure part of him hoped that the telepath wasn’t. That caused the guilt to rise even more.

Josh didn’t think he’d make it through the next four days.

[Midori Hawkins]

3. Triceratops

The last time anyone had been so interested in learning about dinosaurs from him, Eli had used them as a bribe to lock one Vincent Verax away for the duration of Sean’s sex lecture.

But the seven year old lying upside down on the floor, surrounded by plastic dinosaurs, hadn’t stopped asking questions. Tory grinned as he looked up at Eli, galloping a toy across the carpet. It was fun, asking Eli all kinds of questions, like which dinosaurs ate plants, which ones hunted others, which ones would win in a fight against others. He was far from a violent child, but crashing the dinosaurs together in a simulated battle was fun.

And technically, educational.

Even Eli had to grin as an Apatosaurus crashed to the ground, a Triceratops now standing on top of the toy. “And Cera pins Little Foot!”

“Technically,” Eli pointed out. “The Apatosaurus is much bigger, and has the advantage.” He paused, thinking. “But neither were particularly violent dinosaurs, so no one would win. ... Or lose. Unless they were fighting over territory, or food. In which case, the Apatosaurus would win.”

Tory looked over the toys, trying to find a good match to take down the long necked dinosaur. To help, Eli shifted from the couch to the floor and picked up a Stegosaurus, placing it in front of the Triceratops. Curiously, Tory took hold of the Triceratops and knocked the Stegosaurus over. Eli smiled and picked it back up, knocking over the standing dinosaur.

“... It’s a tie?”

“They are very evenly matched,” Eli pointed out. “For them, it would depend most on who struck first. Triceratops was fast, but Stegosaurus was well armoured.” Tory studied them, running his fingers over the horns.

“And... the horns would be more accurate than the tail, right?”

“They would,” Eli affirmed with a nod.

And then he realized that teaching Tory all about the mechanics of dinosaurs killing one another was probably not exactly an approved activity. He just didn’t know how to redirect the conversation away from dinosaur slaying.

The key in the lock was enough distraction, thankfully. Tory sat up properly and abandoned his toys in favor of running to the door. She barely managed to make it through the door before her son was hugging her. “Hi Mom!”

“Hi, Tor.” She smiled and offered him a small bag of groceries. Eli got to his feet and relieved her of her other burden.

Joanna squealed happily and clutched at her father’s shirt collar. He managed a little smile as he held his two year old daughter against him. “Was she good?”

“Always,” Mii grinned back as she pulled off her shoes. “How was Tory?”

“He behaved. We played dinosaurs.” The idea of Eli playing anything made Mii giggle.

“As long as he was good.” She followed Tory into the kitchen, where he was already poking through the grocery bag. Finding what he wanted, he pulled a bag of chews out for Zero and pulled it open, offering her one. The old dog wagged her tail and took it gently before trotting to her blanket to eat it.

Eli set Joanna down on the floor, who immediately went to the dinosaurs. None of them were small enough to swallow, so he left her alone and went out to the car to get the other few bags he knew would be there.

Everything was peaceful, until there was a shrill, surprisingly loud growl from the living room. While both adults exchanged a look of both alarm and amusement, it was Tory that got there first.

Joanna was sitting in the middle of the floor, a dinosaur in each hand. She had her own toys – mostly plush animals, but Tory’s toys were always better in the toddler’s mind. Looking up at her brother, she smiled innocently and repeated the little dinosaur growl.

Abandoning his previous help with the groceries, Tory grinned and settled back on the floor with her.

“This is a T-Rex, Jo. King of the dinosaurs!”

[Joshua Bernstein]

100. Clockwork

[/u]

The clockwork man huddled against the brick wall, pulling his coat around him as though to ward off cold he couldn't feel. If he had been capable of crying he would have done so; the overwhelming grief threatened to crush him, and tears would have been a welcome release.

The inventor had been kind to him, treating him as a son instead of a creation. Now he was gone.

Dead.

The clockwork man hadn't quite understood at first why the inventor wouldn't wake up, but when his friends had come and then called the coroner he'd realized. He was alone now.

Nobody had offered any condolences. In fact, while he had sat in silent misery in the adjacent room they had discussed what was to be done about him. Should he be sold to some company, to do work until he fell apart? Or should he be turned into scraps?

The clockwork man had snuck out the back door before this debate had ended.

Now he was in the City, bewildered and sad. The City was dark even during the daytime, the smog from infinite factories having settled dismally like a smoky canopy. And while the City was crowded with people, most wore black and grey and were so bundled up as to be shapeless forms in the dark.

It was impossible, even leaning against the wall as he was, not to get jostled and bumped into. Some people muttered apologies, but most simply hurried on, heads bowed. A muttered "oof" was all he heard from one waif who bumped against his hip, finding him harder than she had expected. Then she was gone.

And so was his wallet.

Now he was truly lost. What was a clockwork man to do alone in the City? He couldn't even pay for train fare. He didn't even know how to go about finding a job, and to make matters worse it was beginning to rain. Water droplets slid down his face, emulating the tears he was incapable of crying.

He couldn't say how long he stood there, stricken and uncertain, rain pouring down and drenching through his overcoat, threatening to rust his insides. It was only gradually that he realized he was no longer getting wetter, although droplets splashed around his feet.

"Are you lost?"

The clockwork man jumped at the voice, looking over to see a friendly looking man with a wind-up handle sticking out of his back holding out an umbrella, seemingly unconcerned that allowing the clockwork man shelter meant getting wet himself.

"I....suppose." The clockwork man admitted slowly, sizing up the other man.

"Do you need a place to stay?" The wind-up man asked, nudging the umbrella toward the clockwork man more firmly.

"I...."

"Ahhh, I suppose I wouldn't trust me, either," Wind-up laughed, his free hand rummaging through his overcoat pocket and pulling out a small stack of calling cards.

"Joshua Bernstein, Esquire," Clockwork read, blue eyes opening wide in shock. "I've heard of you. My father says you advocate for us."

"Us?" Joshua scrutinized Clockwork, stepping closer to peer at his face.

Clockwork nodded hesitantly before pulling up the sleeve of his coat just enough for Joshua to see, pointing to barely visible mechanical joints.

"Ahhhhh." Joshua exhaled. "So you're one of Hopkins', are you? Would you think it terribly nosy if I asked about your mechinations?"

"Clockwork," Clockwork supplied. "Yours is rather obvious. It must be difficult when everyone can see..."

Joshua shrugged. "But visibility can be a good thing, too." He all but shoved the umbrella into Clockwork's hands. "If you're not lost at least take this."

"No!" Clockwork objected, then, "I would like to come with you. If you don't mind."

Joshua beckoned, and Clockwork pushed himself off the wall, holding the umbrella aloft as he followed. "I'm afraid I don't have any money to pay you back..."

"Did I ask you to pay me back?" Joshua glanced back in amusement. "I have money, Mr. Hopkins."

"Sean."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Sean."

[Spencer Ellis]

97. Rubber Ducky

Spencer had just settled down for a well-needed rest when her screaming three-year-old son came barreling into the living room, naked as the day he was born. Before she could even say anything, he jumped into her lap, his tiny hands clutching at her hair, and shook his head forcefully. “No! No! No! No!” He shrieked, over and over.

“Aren't you supposed to be taking a bath?” Spencer asked when he finally stopped screeching, gently rubbing his back.

“No! No baths! No!” He repeated, his face all wrinkled up in a look that she could only describe as disgust.

And when Sam finally came down the hallway, his shirt and his hair absolutely soaking wet, Spencer just laughed.

“It was his fault!” There was an accusing point at their son, who responded with a sharp turn of his head and his tongue sticking out at his father.

“You were supposed to give him a bath, not the other way around.” But Spencer was smiling, the same she always did whenever she teased him.

“He pushed me!”

“He's three.”

“.... yeah, well, he's strong for his age.”

She giggled, raising from the sofa with the boy in her arms, and passed by Sam. “You're not off the hook yet, mister.” She bumped him with her hip while Tony blew a raspberry at him over her shoulder, but Sam followed diligently.

Tony didn't even fight when Spencer set him gingerly in the tub, though he was pouting. “Daddy forgot the bubbles, didn't he?”

“Yeah!” A capful of the bubble soap quickly fixed that, Spencer swishing the water around until it was bubbly enough to suit the boy's fancy. “Toys!” He declared next, pointing at the shelf on the wall that had all his favorite bath toys. Spence retrieved them, but before handing them to her son, she gave him a serious look.

“You're going to behave for Daddy, right?”

“No!”

“Tony.”

“Fiiiinnnnee.” And he squealed with delight when he received an armful of toys, immediately turning the bubble bath into an ocean of playtime. Spencer rubbed his head fondly, then stood up to look at her husband.

“See? It's not that hard.” She smiled fondly at him, fetching a towel to throw over his still-dripping hair.

“Because he listens to you!” Sam whined, feeling much like a kid himself while Spencer toweled his hair dry.

“He listens to you too.” The look that earned from Sam only made her laugh again. “Sometimes.” She clarified, folding the towel around Sammy's shoulders, and pressed a small kiss to his lips.

A kiss that was interrupted when a perfectly aimed rubber ducky collided with the side of Sammy's head.

[Dr. James Campbell]

27. Infant

"Hi there, baby girl," James picked up the crying newborn and gently shushed her as he carried her out of the bedroom of the tiny apartment. "Shh, shh, shh, I'm getting you some milky. Let Mama sleep, okay baby?"

Their apartment in Princeton was tiny because that was what they could afford. Lucy wanted to move back to New York, closer to her family--technically his family too, but that wasn't why she wanted to go, even if she did like them--but they had jobs here and he was still getting grant money for grad school. If it meant a few more sleepless nights...well, James had never been good at sleeping anyway.

The kitchen light made him squint as it reflected off the immaculate counters, and the clock pointed to half-past two in the morning. "Ginny, this is what grownups call an unreasonable hour. In a few years I'll be very upset if you're up this late." Of course, the baby didn't respond. She just breathed deep as if she was waiting for the right moment to start wailing again. "So let me just warm up your milk, okay? Please don't cry."

James started heating up the bottle and gently bounced his daughter, trying to keep her happy and occupied until it was ready. "Don't cry. Just think about how nice it's going to be in a few years. We'll have a new house near your grandparents and aunts and uncles, and they'll all want to spoil you rotten. And you'll have your own big girl bed and go to school and maybe you can be a Girl Scout, like your Auntie Laura. Would you like that, Ginny?" Ginny just looked up at him, waiting for her bottle.

"I wasn't sure you were going to be so good with her. I was really worried."

The man turned towards the doorway, where Lucy stood, smiling and obviously exhausted. "Oh, I've got her. You can go back to sleep, Lucy."

"She woke me up anyway. And my mom says it's unnatural that you let me sleep through the night most of the time." The blonde woman walked in and offered her fingers to her daughter, which were promptly stuck in the baby's mouth. "She also says it's unnatural we keep this place so clean."

James smiled weakly and brushed his wife's hair back, away from her face. "Well, your mom thinks I'm unnatural in general. And you're here alone with her all day; I'm fine with taking the night shift."

The egg timer dinged, and Lucy turned off the stove and pulled the bottle from the pot of water. "Here, Jay. And I meant it. You are really good with her." She handed the bottle over, and watched for a while as her husband fed their baby. "You want her to be a Girl Scout?"

"I want her to be an astronaut, if that's what she wants."

Their marriage wasn't perfect. But Ginny was worth it.

[Danicca Waylan]

41. "Did you do it?"

_{Apologies to the Harry Potter fans for this.}

Dani was charged with hiding the book.

The Room of Requirement was filled to the top with places to hide things. She had left Robbie with his eyes closed standing by the vanishing cabinet, and was trying hard not to drop the book in the first place she saw and sprint back to him. Her sweater sleeve got caught on a hooked handle to a drawer set, which was a problem because she was trying to be fast and make absolutely no noise. After wrestling with it for a moment, she was able to escape with only a minor tear in the cloth.

Placing the book in a place she was sure even she wouldn't remember later, she returned to the blond boy.



Robbie was standing, with his eyes closed as promised. He was trying to listen for Dani's return, but was caught very off-guard when he felt her lips against his. (She wasn't exactly his height so he wondered for a second how she got the leverage to kiss him without pulling on his shoulders.)

"I could stay hidden in here, too, if you want."

He opened his eyes to see Dani smiling and backing away, deeper into the room.



Jared had been looking for Robbie for at least four hours. Ever since the blond had disappeared with Dani to hide that textbook, nobody had reported seeing either of them. He'd hoped that the ogress wouldn't eat his friend alive, but it wasn't looking like she had let him live. Just as he started wondering how a funeral would work with no body, Lavendar said she'd just seen the blond heading that way.

Speedwalking to catch up with Robbie, Jared quickly got to the point. "So did you do it? "

When the blond jumped and said in a very alarmed manner, "What!?" Jared figured he'd surprised the other boy.

"You and Dani. Did you hide the book?"

"Oh. Oh, the book. Yes. We did."

The awkward silence that followed, Jared attributed to embarrassment over the surprise earlier, and maybe the trauma of spending time with Danicca.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#104 - Pity

Joshua Bernstein lived a life of few regrets. He was successful and well-respected in his chosen career. He had a large, comfortable apartment on the Upper East Side. He had many friends and never had trouble finding even more. His parents were alive and healthy, and his siblings and their spouses and children all lived nearby. He was in good physical health, and if anything happened, he had access to excellent healthcare. He had more than enough disposable income to cover necessities, nights of drinking, and whatever else came his way, although he didn’t live a life of excess. He’d never been arrested, never been beaten, never been oppressed, not really. He’d had his share of relationships, some better than others. His life was where he wanted it, more or less.

Joshua Bernstein’s few regrets were primarily about not thinking before he spoke, about forgetting appointments with friends; the typical regrets all to which most people were prone over the course of an otherwise happy, healthy life.

Joshua Bernstein had one other regret. Many years ago, when he had been a student, he had fallen in love with another man, and they had lived together for five years. It had been his longest relationship. But everything had moved too fast, and it had become constrictive, and eventually he’d ended it. He’d felt terrible at the time because he knew that it had hurt the other boy, but he’d thought it was for the best. He still thought it was probably for the best, because they’d both been able to move on with their lives afterward.

Still, he wished they’d remained friends. He hadn’t seen Sean in years; he didn’t have an address or a phone number for him, because they didn’t have the same social circle. Josh assumed the other man had left the City, moved back to the suburbs and finally settled down with a private practice and an Irish woman to have three or four Irish children.

It had been for the best, but sometimes he wondered.

****************************************************************

Sean Neville lived a life of no regrets. He had no energy for regrets, because his life was, objectively, a disaster. However, the only way to undo it, if such was possible, was to wipe away the best years of his life. He could never do that, even if it was possible; memories of those years were the only causes of the rare smile that lit his face these days.

He had plenty of If Onlys, however.

If only he had the money to fix the van. If only his shoes didn’t have holes in them. If only he wasn’t always so cold. If only there was somewhere for him to go.

There was nowhere to go, which was why he traveled from town to town, never staying for more than a couple of days before the police would hassle him to move along. Friendless and alone, homeless and unwanted. Barely enough food and a roof on a good day, and there were so few good days; usually he had barely enough for one or the other. Sometimes he didn’t have enough to cover either.

Transportation was also expensive, bus tickets or train tickets. So he was exhausted often. His legs were strong from how far and often he walked, but he wasn’t in good shape. He was far too thin.

Somehow, he’d ended up in New York. The nicest part about the City was that it was so big that he could get away with staying a little longer than usual; he wouldn’t be immediately apparent, even if he was unwelcome in any specific place. The worst part of the City was that it brought back memories that caused his breath to catch in his throat and caused his stomach to tighten.

And there were shelters. In theory. The two shelters he’d found were both full when he approached them, which had resulted in him spending the night in Central Park.

He’d been woken in the morning by a police officer telling him to move along or else he’d be arrested. Sean didn’t make eye contact as he pulled his coat back on and left the Park.

Time ran together for Sean, but he was fairly sure it was a weekday. Riding the subway to the end of the line, he found himself down in the Financial District. Sean was out of place with the men and women in business suits carrying briefcases and likely wearing expensive watches and jewelry. He pulled his coat more tightly around him, as though the threadbare article might somehow hide him from the stares of others.

It began to drizzle. Sean quickened his pace as he walked between buildings, but the rain quickened as well. Droplets fell fast and hard; the sky darkened, and he heard a clap of thunder in the distance.

Sean ducked into the nearest building.

That building turned out to be a courthouse.

He milled around in the lobby, staying near the door so he could run back out as soon as the rain stopped. Instead, there was a bolt of lightning, alerting him to the fact that he would be here for a while.

A middle-aged man with strawberry blond hair brushed by with a coffee cup in one hand. Sean shrank back from him, but he heard a single thought that caught his attention. Bernstein owes me for covering.

Granted, Bernstein was a common enough last night, but Sean’s heart leapt upon hearing it. Just in case the named belonged to the person he thought it did. Making a quick decision, he went after the blond. He caught him near the elevator.

“Excuse me?”

The blond turned his head, shrank back instinctively as most people tended to do, but then recovered himself. He checked his watch, “It’s 10:15.”

“No...no, I don’t need the time.” Inwardly, Sean was grateful to this man for paying him the simple courtesy of not assuming that he was begging. That he was like countless people who merely needed to know what time it was because his watch had stopped. “I was only wondering if you had seen someone.”

“Who?”

“Joshua Bernstein.”

“I know him; we work at the same firm.” The blond paused, looking Sean over from head to toe, as though trying to place him. “Are you his client? I’m covering for him while he’s making an appearance in Brooklyn.”

“No,” Sean shook his head and looked self-consciously down at his feet. “But I knew him once, a long time ago. We...we used to be friends.”

Sean heard the disbelief coupled then with pity because of the economic downturn. It was false attribution, but he wouldn’t correct the other man’s impressions.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I think he’s going to be in Brooklyn all day.” There was an awkward lull, before the blond (his name was Blake; Sean picked that from his mind) added, “Do you know where the Brooklyn Civil Courthouse is?”

Sean shook his head. His experiences with the City were primarily with Manhattan and Queens, a bit of the Bronx. Brooklyn had been largely unexplored. Of course, he could find a subway map and walk the rest of the distance, or he could pick the information out of a native’s mind...

Neither proved necessary, because Blake said, “Take the R down to Court Street. Then walk a block and a half up.”

“Thank you,” Sean said, committing that to memory. If the R wasn’t nearby, he’d find a transfer station. There was a pause before he asked, “Is he happy?”

“He is. Everyone likes him at the office, and he’s brought his boyfriend to a few of the office parties.”

His boyfriend. The telepath swallowed upon hearing that. “Oh...that’s-that’s good. I’m glad he’s happy; he deserves it.”

Sean knew he looked pathetic, because a moment later, Blake had pressed two bills into his hand; he assumed it was for subway fare and didn’t even look at them. Begging was the worst, because it made him so ashamed; more so when he received handouts without even asking. Still, he was grateful. He whispered again, “Thank you.”

“I hope you’re able to talk to him,” Blake said. With that, he continued his walk towards the elevators. Sean took a moment to make sure the other man wouldn’t mention it to Josh in the future; he didn’t want to be a burden.

Once he was alone, Sean looked at the bills in his hand; they were both twenties.

****************************************

It was raining sheets by the time the morning session let out. Josh stood in the lobby of the Brooklyn courthouse, virtually unnoticeable because of how average he was, neither tall nor short, young but not abnormally so, average build, dressed in a suit like everyone else around him. As people walked around him, he glanced at his watch. He only had an hour for lunch, before he had to be back upstairs in front of the judge, arguing for why the jury selection process should have judicial oversight instead of leaving the attorneys to themselves. The opposing attorney disagreed. It would be a long day.

It would be a short break, and Josh wasn’t too familiar with the landscape of Brooklyn either. He didn’t know how far he could go while still guaranteeing that he would be back in court on time. Maybe he could find a diner, if he didn’t get too wet.

The attorney stepped outside, although he remained under the overhang while opening up his umbrella. Then he descended the stairs and walked along the path to the sidewalk.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone (unremarkable since this was Brooklyn); but the person didn’t seem fortunate enough to have remembered his umbrella. When Josh stopped and turned to offer it to this person, he was alone.

Perhaps it had only been his imagination.

[Blake Thompson]

66. Guinea Pig

The clock read 5:00 pm. He had been doing this for two hours straight. He really needed a life.

Blake stared at the creature in his hands with stone cold eyes, and the little rodent stared back at him. It had been 27 seconds. 28...29...30...31,his eyes were starting to water, 32...33...34...35...36, he blinked and groaned. "How do you do that?!" He yelled at the Guinea Pig in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut furiously and then leaning over to stare at it again. He could have sworn the damn thing hadn't even blinked yet. "Okay. Again. Go."

"Blake, are you hallucinating again?" He heard a familiar voice down the hall and stood up, cradling the little animal.

"Hey Fi. You're home early." He set her pig thing down on the table and gave his sister a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead, who was all sunburned and dark from her trip.

"How was Florida?" He asked, sitting on the couch next to her. She had taken a class trip to Miami, which she had saved up money for it all by herself. Well, with a little bit of assistance from her brother. $2000 dollars was a lot of money, especially when you are sixteen and don't have parents to pay for it or a job. But she had wanted to go so badly, he just couldn't say no and write it off.

"Oh, it was amazing! We swam with dolphins and I saw a starfish, I have so many shells! The ocean was so beautiful and the people were so nice! Oh Blake you would love it! I even met a boy and he---"

"Whoa there. I have some guy's ass to beat already? Damn Fiona you're only sixteen!"

"No! I was going to say that he taught me how to surf and turns out, I'm a natural." She punched him in the shoulder and laughed lightly, maybe, just maybe thinking she missed her brother's sense of humor and the father role he tried to play when around her. Sometimes it was nice, but other times it was annoying. She wanted him to be her brother. Not her dad.

He shook his head, picking up her little animal-creature-watcha-macall-it and held it in his arms, stroking it's back fondly. It had grown on him in the past week, that's for sure.

"He just said that because he got you into a skin tight wet suit." He muttered and just got a roll of her blue eyes. He hated the idea of his sister and...guys. Fiona knew it to. He would rather buy her fifty more rodents than have her dating. She was going to give him a heart attack one of these days, with all those guys chasing after her.

"How's my baby? I see you two have bonded." She said, taking Pickles from her sibling and giving him a kiss on the head. Pickles, who had a hopelessly crazy maniac hairdo, sprouting wild colors of black and white and brown and tan, and giant eyes to big for his head, was quite funny looking. That's why she had gotten him in the first place. "Please, Blake?! I'll take care of it every day, you won't have to do a thing! She had pleaded while looking at him with those puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist. Of course he gave in, how could he not? Ever since they had moved in together she had gotten virtually anything she wanted. She had that affect on him, and probably always would.

"Yes, we did bond. Turns out he is extremely good at staring contests."

"You can't have a staring contest with a Guinea Pig."

"Don't doubt me. That will get you no where in life."

"Fine then, prove it."

He picked up Pickles and leaned over to stare him in those giant eyes, blinking several times before opening and starting the countdown to...failure, to be honest. He would never win.

"Three...two...one..."

"Go."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#116 – Sleepless

“I’ve missed this.” A deep kiss, lips parted by his partner’s tongue, then hands over his chest, palms running over pectorals, kneading flesh.

Me too. Between work, household chores, and family obligations, intimacy was less regular than it had been before parenthood.

“Not-” Interrupted by another kiss, which he was reluctant to break for argument. When parted for air, he finished, “-fair, how you can talk and kiss at the same time.”

“Do you really want to complain?” Lips at his neck, a flick of a tongue.

“...no.” In fact, he only wanted his partner to continue with what he was doing and to do more. To make that point, he slid one hand into the other man’s hair, guiding him to his chest.

Then the door creaked open. “Daddy?” A high-pitched voice queried tentatively into the darkness. “Papa?”

Josh bolted upright and dislodged the telepath in the process; the latter banged his elbow against the nightstand and hissed softly. Josh reached for the nearest blanket to drape around his own shoulders, covering his chest; Sean tugged his own pajama top back down into position, speaking to the tiny figure in the doorway. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

“Can I come in?” She was always good about asking before coming in; Sean and Josh worked hard to instill proper manners.

“Of course,” Sean said. He offered his partner an apologetic look and then shifted on the bed to make room for her. Dragging her blanket buddy behind her, she quickly scurried across the room and climbed up onto the bed to lie between her parents. Once she was settled, Josh said, “It’s past your bedtime.”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted. It was a problem that Sean suffered frequently and which Josh suffered occasionally, although usually owing to work-related or personal stress. Both men had hoped that Eleanor would be spared such sleep problems, and if not spared, then that she wouldn’t encounter any before grade school.

She’s been good about sleeping as a baby, compared with the other children.

She curled up against Sean, who wrapped one arm around her shoulders, offering comfort and security. “It’s dark and lonely.”

“Your nightlight isn’t helping?”

She shook her head, long strands of hair falling into her eyes. “It’s dark,” she repeated, and then her lower lip trembled. “I don’t like being alone.”

“You aren’t alone, Eleanor. Slim and Steve and Cocoa and Blankie are all with you in your room.”

The reassurance went nowhere, because instead, she curled up closer against Sean’s chest and looked up at him with bright blue eyes. “Can Blankie and I stay with you? Please?”

“Honey...” Josh began, but Eleanor didn’t let him finish. Instead, she turned her doe eyes on her Papa, and her lip trembled again. “Please Papa? You and Daddy can hug; I’ll be quiet.”

It was impossible for a person without a heart of stone to respond to that with anything other than capitulation. As such, Josh reached forward to stroke her hair. “You can stay tonight, but you have to try to sleep.”

“I’ll try,” she promised.

She did try, and curled up between her parents, and using her Daddy’s wide chest and soft stomach as a pillow, she eventually closed her eyes. A few moments later, her breathing had evened, though she still clutched her blanket buddy close to her for comfort.

Josh rolled up on one arm, careful not to disturb her. Instead, he drew the covers more tightly around the three of them.

I’m sure you’re grateful for the telepathy now. Sean’s voice echoed in his head.

Yes, Josh had to admit. Even if he didn’t, Sean would know anyway. Should we try again tomorrow night?

We can try again tomorrow morning.

Are we putting her back in her own bed tonight?

No, but she isn’t going to shower with us tomorrow, Slim. Sleepless night or not, their routine would have to resume in the morning.

It was a valid point, and Josh smiled in the darkness; he thought his partner was aware, even if he didn’t see. It was something to look forward to. And a good reason for them both to go to sleep now too, so they could wake up early tomorrow morning.

[Aaron Walker]

#10 - Expectations

You’re almost fifteen now. It’s time to start planning for your future. Even you can see…

AJ shoved the letter back into his pocket as his roommates walked through the door. Even though he was used to carrying around quite the collection in his pocket, the letter never seemed to fit just right. It was always crumpling loudly when he sat, or trying to slip out as he walked. But still he carried it, re-reading it when no one else was around, and trying his best to make sense of the words on the page and what they meant to him.

“I was just on my way out,” he said, forcing a grin at his roommates. “So much to do, so little time?” he laughed as he walked past them, but even in his own ears the noise sounded weak.

He made his was to the roof, always a favorite place his. From up here anything seemed possible. He could watch the other students going about their day, or sit and plan out his next adventure. Pulling the letter back out of his pockets, sat down to pick up where he had left off back at his room.

…how hard your father and I have tried to connect with you. Or maybe you can’t. Sometimes it’s so hard to understood you...

AJ stared at the delicate, curvy letters his mother had written, trying to make them sink in. He had always known he was a little...different from parents. When he was in grade school they had constantly pushed him towards the same activities they had enjoyed. But after time, they had stopped. AJ had assumed they had accepted him, or at least given up on the idea of him being a perfect copy of them.

...You must be able to see the life that we’ve struggled to give to you. Yet every time we call, or come to visit, all you can talk about is goofing off. When you’re father was your age, he already had a part-time job and was training hard everyday to improve his athletic skills. You can’t just go play in a tree forever. It’s time to grow up Aaron...

AJ jumped when he heard someone else come onto the roof. Again, he quickly hid the letter from view. Seeing that the other person was Jared, AJ managed to put a strained smile on his face.

“I’ve been looking for you for like, ever. Well close to an hour anyway,” Jared said, walking over to his friend and punching him playfully in the shoulder. “It’s your turn to treat me to ice cream. And I’m thinkin’ it’s a three banana sundae kinda day.”

“Oh…yeah…I…can’t,” AJ said, backing away from his friend while trying to find a believable excuse. “I don’t have the time.” He felt horrible when Jared gave him a confused/disappointed look, so he pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the other boy. “Take someone else, okay?”

Leaving Jared standing alone, AJ turned and walked away. Wincing as the crumpled letter stabbed him through his jeans.

[Morgan Tonaya]

#87. Unexpected

^{OoC: This is so much crack.}

----


Fifi leaned on the frame of the door as if she’d just been socked in the chest. Bren was the first to look up from the game, Vincent quickly sniping him when he wasn’t looking. Hooting like a monkey, the student didn’t even notice his boyfriend get up to support a wobbling Fiona.

“Fifi, are you okay?”

“One of you ass holes got me pregnant.”

Bren nearly dropped her, fainting himself. Vincent’s hollers stopped mid-whoop.

“…NOT IT!” he shouted, diving to hide on the couch.

Brendan blanched at looked at a positively seething Fifi with wide eyes. “I…I mean we---It’s so…Unexpected. Are you su---“

“Don’t you even ask me if I’m sure, dick wad.” Fifi grunted, shoving Brendan off of her. “It’s like the fucking EPT holocaust in that bathroom.”

Marching over to Vincent, she boxed him in the back of the head . He squealed and whined in protest. “I said I din’t do it[/i]!”

“You don’t know that.” Fiona accused, pointing to Brendan over her shoulder. “And neither do you, old man.”
Brendan pouted at the title.

“Well how d’ya know?!” Vincent accused, peeking shyly out from under the couch cushion. Fifi colored slightly pink and put her hands on her hips.

Brendan stuffed his hands in his pockets, glad Vincent was stupid enough to ask the question he’d been thinking. Fiona wasn’t exactly known for her monogamy.

“Because I haven’t had sex with anyone but you two since graduation.” She finally admitted.

Looking surprised, Vincent sat bolt upright. “What? But that was like…two years ago[/i]!”

Brendan sank on to the couch next to Vincent, leaving the thin girl to tower over them. “Yeah and what about that guy you dated?”

Fifi shrugged her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest. “It didn’t work out, remember?”

After a long pause and some looks between the two men, Brendan finally piped up. “Why?”

Fifi huffed angrily and flopped on the couch between them, her long arms dangling over her leg. “Because I like whatever the three of us have better. I don’t need anything else.”

Brendan and Vincent were her best friends, and sharing a house with them had made things better than they’d ever been. They were the ones in the committed relationship, but she never felt
like the third wheel.

Fifi was rousted out of her pouting by Vin’s hand on her belly.

“So…can we keep it[/i]?”

She looked over to him skeptically. “You want to raise a baby?”
Brendan laced his fingers with Vincent’s, pulling Fifi’s gaze up to his scruffy face. “Well sure, we’re already sorta a family, aren’t we?”

“…Let’s name it Yoshi[/i]!”

“Vincent I am not naming my baby Yoshi.”

“Our baby.”

“…Our baby.”

Now that was unexpected.

[Cobalt Weaver]

82. Fade

or: What To Remember When You Can’t Remember.

Danny,

So I guess the doctors say that this is something you ought to do, since you’ll start forgetting things soon. I mean, I’m pretty sure this is something you ought to be doing by yourself, making lists for yourself, but there are things you should know that you won’t see. Not because you’re forgetting already, but things you can’t see about yourself, because they’re things other people see in you that you miss. Anyways, this isn’t a list of where you keep your socks or what kind of sandwiches you like or your favorite songs, so I guess this isn’t really a list you can make yourself. Think of this as reminders for when things start to fade.

I don’t think that made a lot of sense, but hopefully you’ll understand by the end of this.

1. Nobody sees the world quite like you do

You used to build models for a living. You still build them for fun sometimes and I don’t know when that will go away, but I hope it never does. I hope, if nothing else, you will always remember how to make things with your hands. Everything you make is beautiful, Danny. It’s so beautiful, because you can see something in each subject that nobody’s every seen before. You think weird things are beautiful. You like to make miniatures of buildings and people and airplanes, and you want to share your talent with everyone.

You love airplanes.

When you were younger, you wanted to be an astronaut, and wanted us to live on moon colonies together with our families. You looked at the moon and saw nothing but possibilities and light and you when you talked about those plans it was like you wanted to gather up all the magic in the universe in your arms and share it with everyone. Share it with me. You were the only one who ever saw me, before I even saw myself. You saw me smile before I actually ever smiled at you, and I wish I could be clearer about this, but I can’t. You don’t think people are broken, even when they are. You look at someone and you see nothing but wonderful things. It’s a gift that nobody has but you, even though you would disagree.

2. You have terrible taste in movies and okay taste in music

So I guess I lied a little bit when I said that this wouldn’t be a list of things like socks and songs. Your favorite song is “Come Fly with Me” by Frank Sinatra, which is a pretty okay song, I think. I always thought it should be “Fly Me to the Moon” because I have an awful sense of humor. I can’t remember if I ever told you that, but I think you would have found it sort of funny too; your sense of humor is also pretty weird. Everything about you is about flying. You always look upwards, past the skyline and towards the stars, when most of us can barely make it up from the ground under our feet. You were always a dreamer, and all that means is that you never stopped finding everything wonderful and you never stopped trying to share it with everyone else.

Your favorite move, however, is Space Cowboys which is a frankly horrendous movie. But I can tell by the way you talk about it that you secretly want to be Frank Corvin. Although I don’t think you could pull off the Clint Eastwood act. I’ve seen that movie, you know. I finally caved and watched that stupid movie. It was awful, and the ending made me selfishly glad that you never became an astronaut because if you were ever going to be stuck on the moon forever, I wouldn’t want you to stay there alone. It is also entirely possible I missed the point of that movie.

Bad humor aside, you’ve always wanted someone to fly with you.

3. You are smarter than you think

Honestly, I should amend this to include everyone else too. Whatever space you claim has always been messy, and you apparently can’t think unless you are up to your ears in clutter, hopelessly trying to at least clean the clay off your hands. I’ve never seen you so happy when you were like that. It’s because you can’t keep up with your own brain sometimes, and things get strewn everywhere in your quest for whatever it is you’re looking for.

I don’t know what that is, but I think that was always sort of the point for you.

You smile so much and you laugh more, and I think people assume that because you’re so happy you must be stupid. Naïve. Whatever you want to call it. But that’s not true. Not even close. You have experienced sadness and loss and pain. You know what it’s like to question everything. You know what it’s like to be alone. The truly remarkable thing about you is that you never stop being happy. Even in the face of these things. You heal people by being you, and you have never been able to see that.

But you know things about people. You’ve never been very subtle, but you know. You know exactly how to treat someone who doesn’t know how to talk to people; you know exactly how long to smile at someone until they realize that you’re being sincere. You know exactly how long to hold someone who isn’t used to being held.

You know so much more than people ever realize because you know how to hope. Even when you got the news that someday you would forget everything, and Riley cried, and I was so angry I wanted to tear the world apart. Even then, you still smiled. You know how to smile through pain. You are smarter than anyone I’ve ever met.

4. You are loved

And you will be forever.

I love you.
Cobalt.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#1 – Overload

“Doctor and Mrs. Neville, please come in.”

“Professor Hopkins is it?”

“Please, call me ‘Robert.’ And feel free to sit anywhere you’d like.” Various chairs were scattered around the room. The Nevilles found two that looked moderately comfortable and sat. Robert shut the door for privacy and then settled in a chair across from them. “Thank you for coming. I realize that it’s quite a trip for a mid-semester review, and not everyone has been able to make it. Several of the parents prefer telephone updates or letters.”

“We want to be active in our son’s education,” Mary Neville said. Sean was their son; of course they would find the time to visit and remain active with him to what extent that was possible. She school didn’t make that goal as easy to achieve as either she or her husband would like, but they remained undeterred.

“That goes far in helping him to cope,” Robert assured her.

“I think he would cope better if you allowed him to come home for Easter,” William Neville replied. Both he and his wife had been distressed to hear that Sean’s travel request had been denied.

Robert’s expression was apologetic. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. I reviewed the population statistics for your town and the immediate area around it, and there are simply too many people. Between that and the distance to travel, it would be too much. But have you considered my suggestion of celebrating the holiday here? There is a local church where Sean attends Sunday mass, and I know for a fact that conduct an inclusive Easter service and welcome those from out of town. Additionally, we have a comfortable Bed and Breakfast in town, and Hammel would foot the bill for your stay.”

That was not what William and Mary wished to hear; the former said, “You let him come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break.” Easter should have been no different.

“I know, but based on what happened when he last went home-”

“He was fine over Thanksgiving,” Mary interjected.

“But he was not over Christmas.” Even if the Nevilles hadn’t called the school for guidance during the break, Robert would have learned when Sean resumed his lessons. He continued, “I know that the Easter holiday is important to your family. If you’d like, both of you, Sean, and your daughter would be welcome at my house. My wife and I are always happy to have guests for the holidays.”

“I don’t think that would be strictly appropriate,” William replied. He then continued, “We have family in New York whom we see for the holiday; they would all like to see Sean, and I’m sure he wants to see them as well.”

“I know for a fact that he does,” Robert replied. He then spread his hands and repeated, “Unfortunately, at this point, going home to visit them would be impossible. If he continues to make progress, he should be fine for the summer recess, but until then, we all need to prevent from over-stimulating him.”

“It sounds as though you’re cloistering him,” Mary said, frowning as Robert essentially vetoed the idea that Sean might be able to come home and visit his family for such an important holiday.

“For his own good,” Robert said.

The comment caused William to frown as well. “We were assured by the recruiter that Sean’s mental abilities would not interfere with his ability to live a healthy, normal life. We were also assured that this school would facilitate his ability to return to the rest of the world, rather than hiding him away. And yet, here you are, telling us that for his own good, our son is unable to come home for four days.”

Not a sliver of Robert’s patience evaporated. He continued to address the Nevilles’ concerns in a calm tone free of judgment. “His psychic potential will not interfere with his ability to live a healthy life and interact with the world at large, but that is a future goal. At present, your son requires a great deal of nurturing, as well as peace and quiet. I can give him all of that until he has the strength and capability to maintain mental shields of his own for longer periods of time. When he can’t maintain those mental shields, he exhausts himself trying to cope. When he exhausts himself, he falters. And when he falters, the events of New Year’s Eve will invariably be repeated.”

That last remark gave both William and Mary pause. Neither desire to have a repeat of this past New Year’s Eve or the aftermath. Finally, William asked, “How long will it take to develop the ability to maintain these mental shields that you’re describing?”

“It varies from person to person,” Robert explained. “Some take to it quite easily while others struggle.”

“How long will it take Sean? I don’t mean to be callous, but our son is the only one we care about.”

“Quite a while, I’m afraid,” Robert answered.

“Why?” Mary looked at the older man, the one charged with her son’s training. “He’s excelled in school; his past teachers have called him gifted. Is there a reason that he’s...slow here? Are remedial classes available?”

Robert shook his head. “Mrs. Neville, I apologize if I gave off the wrong impression, but Sean isn’t learning slowly; he is learning at an appropriate pace for him.” The trainer considered his words for a moment, and then explained further. “Sean requires more time and concentration to learn this skill because he has more potential than many other psychics. I know that we discussed this during his first semester, but Sean has a long range and a deep scope. He requires stronger shields than most psychics master before graduation; he requires shields like mine.”

“How long did it take you to develop yours?” William asked. “Did you graduate on time?”

“It took me years,” Robert replied. “I received my degree in due time; my powers certainly haven’t detracted from my life in any way. However, Sean is sensitive-”

That earned a look from William, and Robert quickly elaborated, “His mind is sensitive. He will learn in due time, with practice and motivation, and I assure you he has the motivation.”

“What until then?” Mary asked. “Since he can’t do this on his own, what do you do for him?”

“I carry the weight for him.” Robert folded his hands in his lap. “It helps to alleviate the pressure for him.”

Deciding that a topic change was in order, William segued with, “And how are the rest of his classes?”

“He does well in his other classes. He’s set to sit for the advanced placement tests since next year is eighth grade. I have no doubt that he’ll qualify for advanced math, science, and English.” That would put him firmly in Eliza Harding’s territory which was a problem for the future; Robert would cross that bridge when they arrived.

William nodded with approval, and Mary smiled, relieved to hear that. She then asked, “Has he made friends yet?”

The smile on Robert’s lips was one of reassurance, not one of good news. “Unfortunately not, but he will in time.”

“It’s been five months,” William responded. Sean had many friends back on Long Island, before his powers developed. Their son, polite as he was, had never wanted for a social circle. Now, in a different community, he had managed to become a pariah both back home and at a school that supposedly catered exclusively to children who were similar to Sean. William saw no reason for why his son would fail to make new friends.

“I know,” Robert replied with genuine sympathy in his tone. “Certain suspicions arise regarding psychic powers, and children can be cruel and judgmental, spreading rumors. They do grow out of it, and they will see Sean for the wonderful boy he is, but it will take time.”

“Rumors?” Mary asked, her eyebrows knit together.

Robert sighed softly and spread his hands again. “Rumors can be vicious, as I’m sure you know; Hammel is unfortunately no exception to that, and with the abilities of our students, such rumors can be exaggerated.”

“What rumors are floating around about Sean?” She asked, wanting an answer.

“For the most part, the typical rumors about telepaths: Sean cheats and he spies because of the telepathy.”

“He doesn’t,” William said firmly, at the same time that his wife asked, “For the most part?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Robert assured with a nod. “But we all face such prejudices. And yes, for the most part.”

“What else?”

“There seems to be a rumor that Sean ‘fried someone’s brain’ over Christmas break and that’s why he was brought back early.”

That was met with silence from both William and Mary. Finally, after several long moments, Mary asked, “He couldn’t actually do that to someone...could he?”

“Coring and overloading.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The two terms, two sides of the same coin, are coring and overloading. Coring is to remove; overloading is to make an impression. Either taken to the extreme will produce the same effect. Both require an active psychic ability, not merely telepathy.”

William’s frown deepened. “You’ve told us that Sean has an active psychic ability. The memories...”

“I know,” Robert said with a nod. “And the potential is there; as his parents, you are entitled to know that. That said, however, he isn’t there now.”

Another period of awkward silence followed, before Mary asked, “Are you there?”

“Yes.” Robert had never been ashamed of his powers, and while he didn’t encourage rumors, he also believed in complete transparency as far as parents were concerned. He worked closely with their son; he spent a fair amount of time in their son’s mind and vice versa, and thus, they were entitled to know.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted with that admission. Despite not being an empath, Robert could easily sense the discomfort; he didn’t even need to lower his mental shields.

“May we see Sean now?” Mary asked, rising to her feet.

“Of course,” Robert said, inclining his head. “I believe he’s upstairs in his room. Do you remember where it is?”

“Yes,” Mary said. She waited for her husband and then took his arm. “Thank you for speaking to us, Professor Hopkins.”

Robert didn’t correct her for the sake of formality again. He merely offered them both a smile. “You’re both welcome. Again, thank you for taking the time. And please, do reconsider about Easter.”

“Perhaps we will.” William offered him a tight smile before disappearing from the office with his wife.