He Was My Brother (Greg)

[Gregory Strickland]

Greg smirked, always amused and intrigued by those with powers and how they worked. Even those with the same power experienced it differently. “Do you hear the words in the tune that goes along with them?” He asked curiously. Of course Sean should be used to Greg’s natural curiosity. “They don’t make earplugs for telepaths? How unfortunate.” Greg tsked and shook his head. How did Sean ever get any peace and quiet? He laughed at Sean’s comment.

“They’ll just add it to the bill,” Greg said with a wave of his hand. “And they can add the coffeemaker onto the bill as well, I can never find the ones that brew just cup so perfectly.” The hotels were just going to love these three. “We could always use the curtains as well, they tend to be more colorful.”

“I love parties,” Greg stated as a generality. Who didn’t love parties? Unless you were completely antisocial and your friends were forcing you to go. “Can I bring something?” Greg asked. It would be nice to have something to look forward to and do. He wasn’t really the best cook, but maybe he could bring paper cups or something. He just wanted to feel useful.

“Farmer’s market huh? I should go check that out...” he said. Really, Greg was getting tired of bar food, too lazy or tired to cook his own food. Though tired from what, he wasn’t sure. He just wasn’t the best cook, he was rather awful actually. Nate had always been the expert. Greg was just the person annoying the shit out of everyone, and trying to add things to recipes that ought not be added. This rib recipe just worked out my chance.

Greg played with his glass again. “Oh I don’t know, seem to be stuck in a loop.” He said, taking a swig of his water as well. Sometimes he felt good, sometimes he felt awful, there really didn’t seem to be a happy medium. What he really felt, was lonely. That was the worst of all.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I do when the person is thinking it accurately. If they don’t remember the right tune or they remember out of tune, then I hear whatever it is they’re thinking.” That also presented problems, because the only thing worse than having a bad song stuck in his head was having a bad song stuck in his head that was also out of tune. Such were the minor irritations of telepathy. Sean sipped form his water glass and then shook his head as well. “We get taught to tune it out, but that only goes so far. But at least I only have to share my living space with Josh; living in a dormitory was an adventure. As you well know.”

Sean nodded, a feigned serious expression on his face. “All right, sheets, curtains, and the coffeemaker. I suppose that we should pick up a European DVD player while we’re over there. Are we forgetting anything else?” The telepath patted his pockets to find a pen and a pad so that they could make a list.

Sean then nodded at his friend’s remark. “I know you do, which is why I plan on inviting you to all of them. Starting with this barbecue, which I hope won’t get out of hand.” At least they wouldn’t blast loud music and have the police called on them. In fact, if he invited Charlie, then they would have a police officer as a buffer. While Sean and Josh didn’t encourage anyone to bring anything, and they never requested anyone bring food to barbecues, Sean also wouldn’t turn away something that Greg wanted to bring. “You don’t have to. But if you want to, you can always bring a dessert or a side dish.” One couldn’t go wrong with potato salad.

He nodded in agreement. “You should. I’ll call you up the next time I go; we can shop together. They have someone who makes incredible fudge, in about two dozen varieties.” The summer had some of the best treats, outside of the holidays.

Sean listened sympathetically as his friend described the situation. That was common for people who had suffered the loss of a family member, particularly a spouse of many years. The telepath wanted to help Greg break through that, either directly or indirectly. “Have you considered talking to someone? You know I’m here for you.”

[Gregory Strickland]

“What if they think they’re really good singers? Are they still out of tune?” Greg asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. Of course, Greg had always been curious, it had brought him a world of hurt and pain, but also a world of enlightenment. If he was a cat with nine lives, he’d risk a few for the sheer thrill of finding things out, and seeing where the limits were. Greg smiled at him, remembering dorm quite well. College was a good place to fill one’s curiosity.

“Well we’ll need European DVDs as well, especially the raunchy ones,” Greg was saying, his fingers pointing at Sean’s notepad as though saying ‘write that down’! He could play pretend serious any day of the week. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.”

“You hope it won’t get out of hand? Do they usually?” Greg asked, clearly interested, especially in the getting out of hand bit. Greg waved his hand. “Well, whether they get out of hand or not, I’d still really like to come,” he smiled. At this rate, maybe he could have a few of his own get-togethers, once he had friends. And assuming Josh wouldn’t mind all of this happening at his house. Greg smiled, obviously happy to be of service. “Dessert. I’ll bring lemon meringue pie.” Yum, that would certainly go well with drinks.

Fudge at a farmer’s market, who’d a thunk it. “Do they have rhubarb? I haven’t had rhubarb in ages,” he said, wondering if he was annoying Sean yet with his questions and rants. Ah well, if he did Sean would’ve left years ago.

“I know. It just seems odd, don’t you think? Having your best friend become your counselor?” Greg was honestly afraid about that part. But really, he couldn’t think of trusting anyone else. But he didn’t want therapy from Sean, just a friend. And hadn’t someone said once that having someone simply listen to you was better than any shrink? Greg decided to test it out. “I just, it’s hard to let him go,” he said, his voice turning soft. It was strange, to not be joking around.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“That depends on how strong and accurate their memories are,” Sean explained. As with many aspects of memories, accuracy was determined by details, and objectivity often fell in the wake of subjectivity. He tried to find objective reality through the subjective perceptions of others. “If the person accurately remembers the tune, then I tend to hear it in tune, even if the person isn’t a good singer. Some people remember the full instrumental accompaniment and everything, so that tends to be in tune.” After all, Sean was capable of remembering songs in tune, even though his singing voice was atrocious; fortunately, that didn’t have much bearing on auditory memory.

The telepath took the hint and wrote in his neat handwriting European pornographic movies. Truthfully, Sean had little interest in tracking down any of those, given that he had no intention of attending a stag party in the near future. Still, for the sake of the joke, it was fine. “What else? We could take the bidet; we don’t have any of those here.”

Sean considered the parties that they’d had in the past: the barbecue, Halloween parties, their behavior at other parties. He and Josh tended to get more out of hand than most other people, so likely it wasn’t a concern. “Typically not. But you’ll have fun anyway, and you’re certainly welcome to come. In fact, I’ll pick you up if you don’t show up on time.” He smiled at the blond, both for the topic and at the mention of lemon meringue pie. “There is always room for pie.”

On the subject of pie... “They usually have strawberry rhubarb pies for sale. I know I’ve seen rhubarb stalks for sale, but I don’t typically have reason to buy that.” Perhaps that would change now that Josh knew how to bake; it could be a project.

As the conversation turned more serious, he shook his head, denying the sentiment. “While I can see why you might think that, I personally don’t think it’s odd. If I needed a house built or a case defended in court, I’d look to you and Josh respectively.” Moreover, Sean had performed as Josh’s counselor for the past year, much to his partner’s benefit. The telepath then lowered his voice, although his tone was patient, intended to convey compassion and understanding. “I know it is. And that’s perfectly natural, given everything that happened and who he was.”

[Gregory Strickland]

Greg nodded and gave a little, “Hmm.” That was really interesting to think about, and yet, so confusing. Sometimes he really wanted meta powers, but he wasn’t jealous over what Sean had. Not that his powers were terrible, just overwhelming. Greg would be totally content with something like, making storm clouds appear from nothing. Surely that was a simple power, right? “But what if they’re singing it in their head? Is it in the artist’s voice, or in theirs? And if so, can it be out of tune?” Greg just loved asking questions.

Smiling, Greg shrugged at the idea of taking a bidet. “I’ve installed plenty of those before, even in New York.” He raised his eyebrows at Sean. Some people were out of country and wanted a little taste of home. “Doesn’t seem worth lugging around if you ask me.” He commented, trying to think of anything else they might need or want. “Will the appliances still work here? I’m going to have to get one of those converters aren’t I?”

Greg smiled a little deviously. He wasn’t opposed to helping things get a little out of hand. “Oh I’ll be there, no need to pick me up.” He said. There were taxi’s for a reason.

“Yum,” Greg said, just about ready to go to the famers market. Maybe Pilot Ridge would be better than he first thought. He could get used to life being comfortable and filled with strawberry rhubarb pies.

Greg was starting to warm up to the idea. “But isn’t that different? Building a house I mean, versus psychological assessment?” The blonde gulped hard, looking Sean straight in the eye. “I don’t think I ever will.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Greg’s sentiment was fairly common. While Sean had been a telepath for over four decades, and he had no desire to be anything else, learning to cope with his powers had been difficult, and there remained side effects and little aspects that were less than ideal. Most people who thought about the matter beyond the cursory concluded that telepathy wasn’t worth the hassle. “If they’re singing it in their heads, then their voice comes into play. But most people try to remember the singer for it, for better or worse.” Sean’s expression was half-smile and half-grimace at that. Whether he cared for certain musicians or not, they tended to have better singing voices than the average person, even if the average person’s singing voice was better than his own.

“Fine, no bidet.” Truthfully, Sean could live without one, just as he had every day for his entire life. At the question of the appliances, he shook his head. “We’d need to buy a converter. But if we want to buy a converter stateside, we can take a few of the appliances. Perhaps the room phone if it’s in an interesting shape.” The telepath doubted that there would be novelty telephones at any of their hotels, but it was worth the musing.

He considered the other two matters to be settled; if Greg wasn’t concerned about transportation to the barbecue, then they were set. Likewise, they had plans for the farmer’s market. As such, he could concentrate on the heart of their outing.

The telepath shook his head to disagree with the underlying premise. “Your perspective if your own, of course, but this is what I do with my life. I don’t think that supporting someone with the tools and skills I have is any different from you doing the same for me, or Josh doing the same for me.” He didn’t mention his sessions with Josh, because those were confidential; likewise, Greg would be entitled to the same confidentiality.

Sean reached across the table to lay his hand gently on Greg’s arm. “And that’s all right. We have a somewhat twisted view of grieving in this country, but letting go doesn’t have to mean forgetting, and it certainly doesn’t have to mean replacing. It should mean living.”

[Gregory Strickland]

And so the mystery of what one sounds like while singing in their head was solved. Greg smiled. “So we’re all superstars in our heads, so long as he remember the tune and the artist.” Greg could see it now. ‘Come every telepath! Everyone on stage will be singing beautifully without opening their mouths even once!’ It was a wondrous thing.

Bidets were so interesting. Well, Greg thought so. Not really the bidet itself, but that certain cultures used them and others didn’t. “What about the shower heads? You think they’ll be better than ours?” This was getting borderline ridiculous, but Greg didn’t mind. He was having fun imagining the three of them leaving with all kinds of odd things in their suitcases that would amuse the airlines.

Greg wasn’t expecting Sean to tell him what therapy sessions were like with Josh. Though Greg did assume they were good, and probably helped their love lives as well. Greg pressed his fingertips together. “You really think you can help me?” He asked, his interest piqued. Had Sean ever dealt with a case like this? It wasn’t that Greg didn’t trust him, he was just unsure of himself and what might be found out.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that anymore...” Greg said, words getting stuck at the back of his throat. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but why did it have to be so painful?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath considered the question for a moment. While he knew essentially nothing about plumbing – he called a plumber for every leak – he did know enough about water pressure and shower heads to know that all shower heads in Europe wouldn’t be better than all shower heads here. “We should probably test the water pressure first, but if they’re better than what I have at home, we can certainly take a few.” As such, he made a note on the pad to that effect. “Of course, we’ll need to buy duty-free alcohol and cologne.”

Not cigarettes, because he didn’t encourage Josh’s smoking, even if he also didn’t discourage the habit.

The telepath nodded in confirmation; he wouldn’t offer direct intervention (as opposed to referral services of people or books) if he didn’t think that he was capable. And while he tried not to boast, he was also quite confident in his abilities as a psychiatrist; if he had a talent aside from the telepathy, it was his life’s work. “I think I can, if you’ll let me help you.”

Of course, Sean would never force his help on Greg; it was the quickest way to shut down any avenues of communication. But he hoped his friend would let him help.

The telepath squeezed the other man’s arm gently. “I know,” he said. And he did know, although he had been fortunate enough not to have lost a spouse. He’d lost other people who were important to him, albeit in less gruesome ways, and he remembered the pain and the sense of loss. One never forgot that. “But I can help you remember how.”

[Gregory Strickland]

Greg wasn’t worried about stealing the appliances and other house hold items if they were worth it. Besides, the hotel could just bill him. Money wasn’t really an issue. And he had the skill to take a shower head if need be. “Oh, and cheese! I know we’re probably not allowed, but I can tuck that into my shoe and then put that into my suitcase and they’d never know.” He smiled wickedly. He just loved the strong cheeses from Europe. He had run out of the stuff long ago.

Maybe he could bring back a few souvenirs as well, for the few friends he had met here.

Greg didn’t doubt his friend, or his degrees. What he doubted was himself, and his discomfort at being uncomfortable. He knew it was a cyclical thing, and desperately wished there was an easy solution to all this. But that just wasn’t going to happen and he would need to deal with it eventually. He supposed he could no longer put it off. Greg sat and thought about the conditions. Could he let Sean help him?

“You’ve already done more than I could ask for.” Really, Greg felt so loved and so full of gratitude towards his friends. The ones who had stuck by his side through everything. Of course, he had lost quite a few supposed friends through the trial; those who thought he had been guilty of every accusation. In a way it was good to see where everyone stood. “But I want to try.”

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had no intention of actually stealing anything from the hotel; he didn’t even take shampoos. But it was fun to pretend for the sake of absurdity, a hobby he could indulge in with old friends. He lifted an eyebrow at the suggestion of cheese, but he added it to the list. “Any cheese in particular? We could try to get some from every country; I’m sure that your shoes can accommodate that. And if not yours, mine can.”

The telepath did have rather large feet.

Sean was long familiar with the difficulties many people faced when it came to therapy; overcoming the first hurdle in admitting that one needed help was difficult. Going from that admission to actually seeking help and working with a professional was equally difficult. Yes, Sean remained sure that his friend was capable of both, and that, together, they would be able to work through the grieving process so that Greg could live his life without being haunted by Nathan’s memory.

He shook his head at the remark. “I’ve only done what a friend should do,” he assured Greg. To Sean, it was that simple. His friend had done nothing wrong, and he had been persecuted and harmed by the justice system; to do anything less than stay by his side and help him settle into a new environment would be a disservice to their emotional connection. It also didn’t mean that, because he had done this for Greg, that the blond was entitled to nothing else. As Sean had explained to Josh time and again, he didn’t keep a tally of what he did for others, expecting that back proportionally.

And he was heartened to hear that Greg would try. Patting his arm again, he said “I can meet during lunch breaks or after work. Or, if you want to do Saturday mornings while Josh is at Temple. Although I understand if you’d rather not wake up early.” Not everyone was a morning person the way that Sean was.