War Inside My Head (Sean)

[James Martin]

With a weary sigh, Jack put down the pen. With an even wearier flick of his hand, he pushed shut the cheap, faux-leather diary he had purchased at a local shop just a few days ago. His arms were leaden with inner turmoil; his head throbbed. Perspiration dripped from his troubled brow as he contemplated the telephone.

He could lie to himself in his diary entry and say he didn't know Dr Neville's direct number, but somewhere inside he must have known it, because he found that he was dialling it into the phone. Jack's thumb wavered over the 'call' button just for a second, before pressing firmly down.

Nursing an insidious cocktail of fear, confusion and trepidation, Jack lifted the phone to his ear. As much as he knew that Sean Neville was the only man who could help him rescue James Martin, still he found himself not wanting to contact him at all. In fact, a massive portion of his consciousness was practically screaming at him to stop. He had felt it more and more these last few days; a warning inside his head. It was almost as if -

Jack stopped himself. He would get nowhere if he kept on second guessing himself like this. Sean Neville was the only person who could help him with James, so he had to call him. Slightly agitated, he picked up the pen again and started doodling on a piece of scrap paper as he waited for the phone to ring.

Ring.

Two voices inside his head, each of them diametrically opposed to the other.

Ring.

One wanting the truth, one wanting him not to pursue things, begging him.

Ring.

But why?

Ring.

He glanced down at the paper he had been doodling on.

Ring.

Take off the ring.

Ring.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean Neville had three telephone numbers, like many other professionals in the modern age: his work number, his home number, and his cell number. Different people had access to different numbers, as not all of the numbers were listed in the same place, if listed at all. Occasionally, someone might have access to all three, individuals like Josh or some of his coworkers who needed to be in contact with him at any given time.

Regardless of the phone being called, the telepath tried to answer it immediately, particularly if it was an emergency, and given his life and his work, emergencies were more frequent than he might otherwise prefer. There were few reasons to let the phone ring; it was rude, and not possessing precognition, he had no way of knowing who was on the other end of the line, and the purpose of the call. It could be a family emergency; it could be a relative of a student. It could be someone in need of bail money, and he wished that was more of an exaggeration than it was.

So when the telephone rang, he checked the number; not immediately recognizing it the way he would Josh or Ryan or the Campbells or Claude (and now Yvette), he made a mental note to himself. He then picked it up, hit the “talk” button, and brought the telephone receiver to his ear. “Hello?”

[James Martin]

Jack stared dully at the paper. Take off the ring. He barely registered the voice at the other end of the phone for a few seconds.

Take off the ring.

It wasn't just a sentence on a piece of paper, it was a desire, an urge, almost on the unconscious level. He certainly couldn't think of any reason to take his wedding ring of, definitely not because he...some piece of paper was telling him to.

Jack shook his head. A piece of paper was not telling him what to do, he had simply been doodling, it didn't mean anything. Finally, he responded.

"Er, hello? Hello, is this Dr Sean Neville?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The pause after answering his phone was longer than Sean had expected it to be; that implied either uncertainty or nervousness. It was also possibly a wrong number, but the telepath wasn’t going to prompt whoever was on the other end of the phone, particularly if this was personal to the caller. Sometimes a person had to go at his or her own pace. Since Sean had nothing else to do at the moment, there was no need to rush. Additionally, the long pause indicated that it wasn’t an emergency, and thus they weren’t wasting precious time waiting.

However, the patience proved worthwhile, because eventually the person on the other end of the line spoke. The voice was hesitant, which made it more difficult to place it, although Sean thought it sounded somewhat familiar. However, there would be time to confirm that as the conversation progressed.

“This is he,” Sean answered. Because the hardest part of the conversation had occurred, and the person on the other end had started the conversation, the telepath had fewer qualms with prompting him. As such, he continued with, “How may I help you?”

It was only a gentle probe, but one he hoped would help the other man say what he needed to say.

[James Martin]

"Hello Dr Neville, my name is Jack Bishop; I'm sorry to interrupt you at work, but I have an...issue which I believe you would be the best person to help me with."

All the while that he was talking, Jack's eyes kept flicking back to the piece of paper. Take off the ring. Stifling a growl of conflicted frustration, he swept the scrap of paper under his diary, out of sight, if not quite out of mind.

"It's a bit strange to explain...I'm telepathic, but my telepathy has always been terribly hit and miss. I can't focus it on one person, but now and again I'll pick up people in the near vicinity almost at random.

Recently, I've been repeatedly picking up the thoughts and memories of one man - James Martin - in a series of visions. From what I could gather, he has the power of retrocognition, and he's been using it to investigate the life of a man, I couldn't catch his name, but he's recently died. James seemed convinced that the mans life was of importance to his research, and repeatedly used his power to look at his past.

Now, James seems to have completely lost track of reality, and believes that he is this new person. Trouble is, I know he's nearby, he has to be for my ability to work, but I don't know where, and I don't want to leave in case he goes out of range and leaves...I was hoping you could help somehow."

The words came tumbling out, one on top of the other. It was a relief for Jack to get them out, yet strangely he didn't feel any better.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath listened attentively as the other man began to speak and identify himself. He replied with, “Hello Mister Bishop,” to acknowledge the other man’s identity, but then he became silent to let Jack explain his reason for calling.

As promised, the explanation provided was certainly strange, although not that strange, considering that this was Pilot Ridge. Still, it was perplexing. Sean considered himself an expert, of sorts, when it came to psychic powers, particularly involving telepathy. And mature, adult telepathy had its drawbacks, but it tended to be more consistent than what was described. Visions weren’t a typical aspect of telepathy either, but Sean mentally filed that away for later.

The story within a story, the problem within a problem, was alarming, and Sean found that, more than anything else, to be on what he should focus his attention. He didn’t ask how this man had found his name and telephone number or how he had become familiar with Sean’s reputation; the psychiatrist knew that his reputation in this town went far enough to establish that without concern.

Instead, he determined the next course of action would require a face-to-face meeting. As such, he said, “That would certainly be disconcerting, if not disastrous depending on how long such a mistaken identity persisted.” There was a pause, as the telepath weighed his next words, before he asked, “Would you be willing to meet with me to discuss this further? I could give you my home address and we could meet tomorrow, if possible?”

[James Martin]

Jack hadn't realised how hard he had been clenching the phone while he had been talking; his hand throbbed and blood pounded in his ears as he finished speaking. Oddly, every syllable had been an effort, despite their speed and - he had to admit - therapeutic effect.

Hearing Dr Neville's voice alone helped to calm him - the mans reputation alone could do that - yet his words offered little comfort to the warning in his heart.

The meeting sounded like a good idea, and though Jack was loathe to leave his exact location, he was sure that the telepaths house would not be so far that he risked losing James Martin.

"I think that would be a good idea, Dr Neville," he replied, his eyes boring into the diary as though they could see right through to the scrap of paper, "I want to get this sorted, and I think you're the best man to help me do that."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was relieved to hear that the other man was willing to meet with him. Not only was he willing to meet with him, but he was willing to do so immediately, by the next day. That was an encouraging sign, since Sean was more comfortable with face-to-face interactions; between his eye for human behavior and his telepathy, his preference was to be expected. In person, he could get a better read on this Jack Bishop to assess his power levels, as well as more easily coming to understand what he knew about this person he worried about.

“Would eleven-o-clock in the morning be too early for you?” He inquired. Sean was an early riser, and the fact that it was a weekend made no difference to him, since he would have been up for several hours by then. It would also allow them to have the house to themselves, since Josh would be at services at that hour. “I can make brunch, so we can talk on full stomachs.”

The telepath tried to be hospitable, after all, and he liked cooking well enough. Besides, two psychics would need the glucose boost.

“Let me give you my address...” Sean provided his address to the man on the other end of the line, as well as the best route to his house from the center of town.

[James Martin]

His head was pounding, and Jack was compelled to wipe sweat from his glistening brow as he listened to what the Doctor had to say. It seemed like a sensible, good idea to meet in person, so why did a bit of him not want to do it? Steeling himself, he continued.

"Eleven o'clock sounds good to me, I want to get this sorted," no, you don't, "and that sounds easy enough to get to. I'll see you eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, then?"

His whole body was shaking now, and he wretched after speaking. Jack could feel a vision of James Martin's life trying to take over, but he forced it back. Just because he was helping the man certainly didn't mean that he wanted to see any more of the pig's life than was absolutely necessary.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

With the other man’s agreement, Sean cradled the phone between his neck and shoulder and wrote down the date and time as a reminder to be prepared by 11:00 the next morning. That wouldn’t be too difficult, given that the telepath was a morning person and that 11:00 was nearly the afternoon, and he tried to have as much done by noon as possible. That was part and parcel of being an organized and productive adult. He would make sure to have coffee brewed, as well as either the remnants of breakfast or a fresh lunch available when the other man arrived.

“You will. The house is hard to miss, so I’m sure you’ll find it. But if you do get lost, just call and I will try to give better directions.” That made it simple enough. “Is there anything else you want to discuss before we meet tomorrow?”

Sean wanted to cover all the bases. If there was something else for which he had to prepare, either through research or other means, he wanted to know now. As it was, the telepath had some work to do between now and tomorrow morning, and he would need to get started on it.

[James Martin]

"Nope, nothing else I can think of. See you tomorrow."

The replacement of the phone on the receiver was as abrupt as his words were. He could barely think, let alone hold a conversation. He could hear a man's voice, but he couldn't recognise it; it was contorted in, what was it? Fear? Anger?

"TAKE OFF THE RING!!!"

It took Jack a second to realise that he had screamed out loud and fallen to the floor. He was lying in a pool of his own sweat, and blood from where he had hit his nose as he fell. Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet.

The sooner James Martin was out of his life, the better.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Then I will see you tomorrow. Hang in there, and have a good night-” Sean hadn’t managed to finish his word of parting before he heard the telltale click of the telephone call ending.

That was peculiar.

Then again, what the man had described to him was also peculiar, because, in Sean’s experience, telepathy didn’t function that way. He didn’t believe that he was the be-all-end-all of knowledge when it came to telepathy, but he was something of an expert. He’d lived long enough and experienced more than enough to hold that title.

Which was surely why Jack had called him in the first place.

With the conversation ended, the psychiatrist replaced his telephone on its base to charge. He then looked down at the notes he had taken, briefly inventorying them and mentally preparing for the task.

He had some research to do before tomorrow morning. With a bit of work, he was sure that they could get to the bottom of this.

And if the person was in trouble, then they would be able to draw upon Hammel resources to find him. Or police resources, since Charlie was a friend and Sloane was a friend of a friend. That counted for something.

But he had to get to work.