Need a Lift? (Sean)

[Vincent Meian]

Vincent nodded, concerned himself. He had never been a good student when it came to the sciences, preferring ideas that were metaphysical and philosophical rather than equations of concrete numbers. Despite the new advances in the field, the theory itself still confounded him to no end. "You are still better than I, in that respect," he mused, glancing away for a moment before returning his gaze. "I am neither a scientist nor a mathematician - the idea itself is understandable, but its mechanics are... complicated.


"I have attempted to research the subject through reading, though often I cannot comprehend what the author writes." Vincent wasn't at a loss for intelligence, but there were certain things he simply did not understand. "I know how to control when my powers activate, what causes them to, and how to deny them. It is one of the reasons I shielded when we first met; the emotional control that empaths have over others can cause those reactions. It is one of the reasons why I have none in my classes."


Because the last thing anyone needed was a terrified empath and him vanishing off the face of the Earth for a few hours before returning who-knows-where.


"However, my comprehension is not something that I am much concerned with," he continued, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand. "It is the effect and side-effects that cause much of my worry. From what I understand, my ability is something akin to a dimensional illusion - I somehow take an image from another reality and impose it upon a target. It can last no more than a few minutes, but once the vision is complete I... vanish." The word had a confused sort of bitterness to it, as if the lack of understanding was what made him so agitated. Which, it was.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

What Vincent began to describe was more in Clarisse’s area of expertise than in Sean’s. The Frenchwoman knew the intricacies of powers and side-effects; that was why she was the specialist. Sean, primarily, knew telepathy and other psychic powers, to some degree he knew empathy because it was related in some ways. He knew aspects that affected close friends or his protégées, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

But he listened carefully as the trainer spoke. More than that, he watched his body language, particularly the way that he fiddled with his wedding ring.

The side effects were certainly different from anything within the telepath’s experience. “Where do you go? Or is it a literal matter of ceasing to be for a time?”

Theoretically, he though it possible that Vincent would exchange places with whatever image he had summoned, but that theory was based in nothing. Only in the idea of viewing his abilities as an exchange, which, Sean admitted, could be the wrong way to view them.

Either way, it was a disconcerting thought, and he could understand why the other man wanted to avoid using his powers, for the mere side effects alone. The nature of what he described as the bulk of the ability also sounded as though it could be unpleasant, particularly if uncontrolled. Controlled, however, he could see benefits.

“And it’s fine about the shielding,” he said, gesturing to demonstrate that the explanation was unnecessary. “Lots of people shield around me for their own security and comfort.”

For what little it achieved.

[Vincent Meian]

The trainer shook his head. "I do not know," he answered, hos tone becoming slightly apologetic. "I remember very little before I return. There are a few pieces I can remember from some; darkness, noises I have heard nowhere else. Occasionally, there is something akin to starlight. Often there is a sound; it... it feels like it should be a sound, but it is too low to be heard, as if I hear it only because it resonates in my bones." Being someone who played both viola and violin, the sound and feeling was equivalent to plucking the lowest string of a bass, only one that was infinitely deeper than any instrument he'd ever heard. It was a sound that chilled him to the core, even just by remembering it, and the younger man shivered slightly before continuing.


"From what my records say, I depart this world somehow. There are no traces of myself or my power left behind that any Tracker can trace or that any psychic can sense. I have thus far always returned within hours of my disappearance, though I cannot control where I may reappear." This was necessary background for the story he was going to tell, and even though he was trying to keep his thoughts neutral for the telepath a few images surfaced; being tens of feet from the ground in a tree, looking down an alley in a city he'd never been before, the endless stretch of the ocean on a calm day. It was unnerving to the man, and he continued carefully.


"I switched trainers frequently as a student, as many of them knew only as much as I did. Some tried to teach me to control certain aspects; the time, the image, where I would return. Many of the attempts failed, though largely due to my own rebelliousness and temper. I barely learned to keep myself from jumping randomly, and apparently it was enough for the military. I signed their paperwork the day I turned eighteen." He hadn't been interested in college at that point, and the offer they made him had been good. A kid with a temper and an unstable power working for the government; not his best idea by a long shot.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

What Vincent recounted was wholly the opposite of Sean’s experiences with training. As a boy, Sean’s powers had been far too real, connecting him to too many people in the world and slowly stripping him of himself in the process. He had been assigned to Robert, since he was the expert on psychic powers, and he had blossomed under the older telepath’s tutelage. He had never considered another trainer; he had never wanted one. Sean had been patient and conscientious, and every power slip was unintentional, never managing to make him lose his temper.

Moreover, he had been on a set path. After graduation, there had been college and medical school, without hesitation. He never wavered in those goals. He certainly never could have joined the military, either by draft or of his own volition, definitely not of his own volition.

Still, he could understand how a different personality and a different power, one that held so few answers and resulted in a lack of stable connections, could lead Vincent down that path.

The telepath listened, his gaze focused on Vincent as he spoke. A few images popped into his mind, and he studied them without letting his expression change from the open, patient one that he wore.

“That sounds disconcerting,” he remarked, because he wanted the other man to know he sympathized, and he thought that Vincent might appreciate the verbal feedback. Listening for too long without speaking, even when demonstrating that he was listening, made some ill-at-ease.

“For how long were you in the military?” He asked, as a follow-up. He assumed that Vincent would get to his military travels, but he wanted to make a mental timeline.

[Vincent Meian]

A dry smile flickered over the younger man's face, but he merely nodded. Disconcerting was certainly a word for it, even if it was a bit mild. There were so many things that were unknown, and simply the lack of knowing was part of what pushed the trainer to pursue philosophy and religion. Someone had to have an answer, didn't they? Despite the fact that his learning didn't give him the answer he was looking for, it did give him a new way to look at things. That, at least, had given him peace.


"Seven and a half years active service," he replied immediately. "I was discharged in December of 1995, though that extra year and a half was not..." There wasn't really a good term to describe it, so he changed the thinking of it. "I was not an active soldier then."


It was actually this that he needed to explain to Sean; the damage that could be done when his powers ran unchecked or his shields deteriorated. "I served in the Rikujō Jieitai - the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force, as it is called in English - for four years. My status as a metahuman caused some rifts with my unit, however, so I was transferred to another; a specialist team that oversaw and participated in conflicts between the populous and metahumans. I served the rest of my term with them. For the majority of our missions, we acted as a police force where the local departments could not. Sometimes we were bodyguards or transporters. We carried non-lethal weapons in addition to our side-arms, and rarely was there cause to fire even those. We were a peace force, if there is such a thing when conflicts are involved."


Vincent paused for a moment, checking on the tea and determining its readiness before pouring it. Steam and the scent of pear drifted into the room from the first cup, which he handed to Sean with both hands before serving himself. This was a serious situation, and all respects were given simply by virtue of instinct. He didn't really want to think about the next part, but it did have to be told.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“That’s a long time,” Sean remarked. It was longer than he could personally conceive of being in the military. Then again, he would have qualified for a conscientious objection, if not also for a disability discharge, given the nature of his powers. But, when he had been a teenager, Vietnam veterans came back with grave trauma, and that was from a thirteen-month tour of duty. Seven times that became exponentially more difficult to imagine.

However, he paused in the conversation, accepting his tea with a small smile and a murmured, “Thank you.”

The aroma of pear reached his nostrils, and, despite not yet tasting, he was pleased with his choice. The fragrance alone made it worthwhile. The liquid was so hot, even through the mug, that he chose to wait a moment before tasting.

“What sort of conflicts did you diffuse?” The telepath asked, directing the conversation back to the topic at hand. A very specific image came to mind when one used those words in the U.S., but that came from a decades-long history of Civil Rights conflicts, and a longer history of rebellion. He knew that the Japanese military differed from the American Armed Forces, and he required the background information to understand Vincent’s experiences.

[Vincent Meian]

The concept of a long time made Vincent smirk a little. It hadn't felt so long back then. "I had been planning on a career," he added. "Ten, perhaps twenty years or more, though my time was long enough, I suppose. The lifestyle suited me then, and it would not take me far from home. It is much like the National Guard for the United States, though units are occasionally sent to other islands under our control." There were few of those, however, and many were technically considered part of Japan by foreign powers anyway, simply by proximity to the main islands.


The trainer nodded his acceptance of the thanks, answering in kind as he poured his own cup. Setting the teapot aside, he pulled the ball from inside and set it on a saucer he'd taken for this purpose. The tea was steeped enough - any more, and it would be too bitter.


"Riot control, mostly," he answered, shifting the warm ceramic in his hands. "We would also transport people out of dangerous areas, even helping the recruiters at Eisai with exceptionally powerful or dangerous metahumans. We were trained to compensate for people like us, and to keep them safe from the general populous. The reverse was true as well, however I was never on a mission as such." That was often what the special forces were for, after all.


"My active status ended after one of these missions," he continued, forcing out the words and staring into the cup in his hands. It wasn't because he didn't want to look at Sean or see his reactions; the stationary object simply allowed him to relax and think more clearly. "There was a riot in the Kagawa prefecture, on one of the smaller islands south of the mainland." Here, if Sean was looking, he'd see a map projected onto Vincent's mind, as if from a back-lit screen - how he'd seen it in his mission guidelines. "There were a series of crimes committed by a metahuman, and the police could no longer handle the population. We were sent to extract everyone with the gene, as well as capture the offending individual. The riots had been happening for weeks by the time we arrived, and we received little aid. Thankfully, most of the populous helped us, once they realized we were not there to hurt them."


Memories fought for dominance, but he refused to let them swell his thoughts. Sean needed fact, not his anger. "We took one week to gather all the known metahumans and transport them out of the town. It was for the last few -and our target- that we stayed. I was injured during the mission, and in my anger and pain... the stress broke through my shielding. I cast a vision on the individuals who harmed me, and then vanished. I then proceeded to lose control of my abilities and use them on every being I came across over the course of six months."


Given that the maximum length of time for his "absences" was six hours, the power usage was extraordinary, and the timeline long. His hands tightened around the cup, the patchwork of scars blending in across the whitening of his knuckles despite the dark bruises. It had been a time full of fear for the young soldier, and nothing had helped for the longest time. The memories (and his attempts to calm his thoughts and focus) caused Vincent to stop speaking for a moment, allowing a brief lull in the story.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Stories like these were reasons why Sean actively supported Hammel’s mission statement. Although Vincent’s time in the military had been voluntary, unlike the treatment of Russian meta-humans, the psychiatrist still found the notion of a unit (or multiple units) of the military or the police dedicated to meta-humans to be gravely concerning. He acknowledged the fact that many meta-humans possessed abilities that could not easily be countered by baseline humans, but determinations weren’t so simple. Rounding up all of the meta-humans in a given area was particularly odious to him, as it was reminiscent of racial profiling at best, and coordinate mandatory displacement at worst. Possessing the meta-human gene shouldn’t open one up to forcible displacement anymore than being a middle-aged white male should have one automatically arrested when there was a pattern of killings. Of course, being a middle-aged white male was a position of privilege, and thus there was no danger of that profiling, at least in this nation.

Then again, he also actively opposed the notion of a militarized police force and believed that more could be solved through mandatory diversity training, as a condition of both education and employment. His preferences had yet to become implemented, and he held out little hope that they would be.

However, all notions of parallels between Japan and the United States, or Japan and Russia, evaporated when Vincent explained what had led to his discharge. The already serious expression on Sean’s face melted into one a concern, and he turned the mug in his hands. “Do you know why?”

The question might sound patronizing, but it was an attempt to learn of Vincent’s thoughts, both at the time and in the present, after ample opportunity for reflection. In the midst of emotional crisis, it was often difficult to adequately and accurately assess.

[Vincent Meian]

While Sean may have thought less of their missions (and rightly so, for many such dedicated units), Vincent actively agreed with the idea that metas should be in the military and trained how to fight their own. Not because he thought war was acceptable, but simply because knowing how to protect oneself (and by extension their family and country) was a good idea. It didn't hurt that many of the missions he'd been on where displacement was needed had been acts of protection for the people involved - leaving them in a hostile zone where they could be killed was unacceptable for the soldier in him, and transporting them away safely at least for a few days usually seemed to be a better alternative.


It wasn't always right, and there were a few complaints he was sure, but rarely were there lasting problems. He'd checked on that during his years in college.


The question made him glance up, a grim and dark sort of humor on his countenance. It wasn't a joke, but it was still an irony he was forced to live with. "Fear," the trainer answered simply. "Before that day, I had not lost control of my powers in almost nine years. When they first activated, I was certain that I was dying -" And I was angry about it. "- and the fear that I would not see another day gave me cause to lash out. The sudden lack of control made it difficult to stay in one place for more than a few moments. I was scared of everyone and everything that came near me, and I was in a fairly large amount of pain. I also lost nearly six months of my life in that Void before I was eventually caught. Thankfully, my encounters with human beings were few."


This was part of the reason why pain was something he didn't fear as much anymore, and part of the reason why when Lei had accidentally attacked him he didn't let go. It was something more of a respect than a phobia now - a lesson that he had yet to learn before that day.


"I spent the next thirteen months in a rehabilitation ward under constant watch by power suppressors," he continued. "It is one of the reasons I have respect for your field, as the therapist assigned to me helped with much of the trauma. He also introduced me to my most recent trainer, who helped rebuild the shields I had neglected in my service. After that, I was discharged into Nakia's care, for we were married at the time, and I continued my therapy with her and my trainer."


The younger man sipped his tea thoughtfully before continuing. "Though I carry many physical scars from the event, many of my mental wounds have healed. However, a condition for my release was periodic evaluations, either with metahuman or non-powered humans, and I continued those until I left Japan. I thought... perhaps you should be made aware of such things."


Partly because Vincent could well be a danger to himself of others if things spun out of control, partly because the telepath had the right to know as his friend, and partly because if he suddenly vanished for whatever reason Nakia would need someone to call who would understand. There were many reasons for this, but at the heart of the matter was the fact that he needed someone else to talk to; someone who hadn't lived through it but could still understand everything that happened. It eased the burden little, but in the end his tension did ease slightly, and he gave the psychiatrist a very slight, apologetic smile.


"Perhaps I should have warned you before we began this discussion, ne?" The conversational slip was a comfort, and the smile didn't fade as the soldier nursed the hot beverage in his hands.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

In some respects, Sean bore little resemblance to his more idealistic, younger self: he rarely engaged in acts of political protest, he had long-since grown into the role of mentor rather than organizer of like-minded youths, and he preferred a more subtle approach. In other ways, he was the same person, despite an additional thirty-five years of life experience. He was a man who had collected horrible experiences, either in his own life (albeit less frequently) or from others, in his capacity as a psychiatrist as well as through his telepathy. Despite it all, he remained committed to avoiding fighting whenever necessary, so much so that he had walked into a situation where others were armed to the teeth and refused to touch a weapon.

Immediately, he forced that memory from his conscious mind; that held little applicability. Moreover, there was nothing he could say on that topic, because he had vowed to keep that secret, for everyone involved.

Instead, he focused on the younger man’s words, and the memories and thoughts associated with them that Sean could detect. Truly a harrowing experience, and it was distressing that Vincent had carried this around with him for so long.

Feeling that the tea had sufficiently cooled, Sean brought the mug to his lips, sipping the warm liquid. Immediately, the taste of pear (and a more subtle taste of kiwi) blossomed on his lips. He would have to remember this for the next time he went shopping, as it was most agreeable. He lifted his head, trained his gaze steadily on the younger man’s face.

“There’s an old adage that isn’t entirely accurate, but it states that depression is anger turned inward.” He sipped his tea again, before setting the mug down in the nearby saucer. “I had a friend, a trainer who has long-since moved on to bigger and better opportunities, and we used to discuss how powers shaped personality.

He so dearly missed Anya.

“Fear was a common topic, because there’s so much of it to go around. Fear for ourselves, fear for others, fear for the future.” The telepath shook his head slightly, reflecting on that. “When I was at Hammel, people were afraid of me, not entirely without cause, so I do understand the underlying drive.”

Even if Sean didn’t lash out at the world around him. Instead, he had internalized everything.

He reflected on that in silence, before he asked, “Have you continued your sessions with anyone since moving? While I’m happy to share with you on a personal level, I can also fill that requirement gap, if it hasn’t already been filled.”

The psychiatrist sensed that it hadn’t been, given how Vincent described his needs.

At the other remark, he shook his head again, coupled with a small gesture of his hand. “Part and parcel of life as a psychic is that we don’t have the luxury of warnings.”

[Vincent Meian]

"I can agree with that idea," the trainer stated, feeling much calmer despite the inherent anxiety of speaking at length. He wasn't much used to it anymore. "Though, perhaps the reverse is true as well; perhaps our abilities are given to us because of flaws in our own scope of perception." This was the philosopher in him at work; he'd reasoned for some time that his own abilities (and the consequences thereof) had shaped him into a certain type of person, but that he'd been destined to be that person regardless. The added aspect of metahumanity gave him a push in the right direction.


Though Vincent quirked an eyebrow in surprise at the statement, he did not argue. There were a number of people he had known (himself included for a time) who were concerned deeply about what telepaths could do to their minds. Lei was one of them as well, which explained the boy's animosity towards the psychiatrist. However, he found it somewhat hard to believe that people had ever been afraid of Sean in particular. He simply wasn't a scary person.


"No, though my scheduled time has not passed yet," he answered. "My evaluations are normally in early March - near the beginning of Eisai's school year." He appreciated the offer as well, as the warmth in his tone made it apparent. "I would be at ease with such an arrangement with you."


The soldier chuckled, shaking his head slightly before taking another drink of the tea. It was a truth, he supposed, though simple courtesy could have allowed the man to 'brace for impact' as it were. "No, I do not believe you do," he replied. "You do not sound as if it bothers you, however."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I’ve heard that theory as well,” Sean conceded with a nod. His priest had assured him that his abilities were a blessing and that they were part of the Lord’s plan. Three-and-a-half decades later, after he had long-since dispensed with the notion of the Lord or destiny, he inherently disagreed with that. He disagreed with the notion of their abilities being given to them, rather than developing naturally, possibly by necessity. Yet, while he enjoyed philosophical discussions, and he was quite content in his own outlook, he didn’t find it necessary or beneficial to argue in such a way as to deny someone else their interpretation and beliefs.

Unless those beliefs were informed by ignorance and prejudice and were used to further those ends.

The telepath noticed the quirked eyebrow, just as he overheard the doubt in the other man’s mind. His expression became thoughtful, as he explained, “Telepathy often makes people ill-at-ease because we like to envision the mind as our castle, the last refuge from the world at large. But that isn’t what frightened people.”

That had contributed to his difficulty building a social circle, but that hadn’t been the cause of the tangible fear which caused him to thank the Lord every day that he hadn’t been an empath.

“Consider it done,” Sean said, reaching again for his mug of tea. “In March, we can do the evaluation in accordance with whatever requirements you have.”

The telepath then shrugged slightly. “I became used to it long ago. I wouldn’t have gotten far in life if I couldn’t handle surprises and spontaneity.” His comment didn’t refer to his career or his finances, but simply to the act of coping with life. One sank or swam as a telepath.

[Vincent Meian]

"I see your point," Vincent replied, nodding slightly. "Forgive me for saying, however, that despite those prejudices you do not seem to be an inherently frightening person." The majority of this was based simply on the man he'd come to know over these few months. Though it was unlikely that Sean had always been so calm and gentle a person, the trainer simply didn't see him hurting other people - with his powers or without. "May I ask what did frighten them?"


It was a rather personal question, though it was asked by sheer curiosity rather than nosiness. He never did like sticking that particular feature where it didn't belong uninvited.


The smile deepened for a moment, both in thanks and in humor at Sean's perspective on surprises. "It seems that makes you more adept at handling the surprises in others' lives, as well," he added. "It is clear why students trust you so, with such an implacable calm and understanding."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Once again, Sean brought the mug to his lips, sipping the warm beverage and enjoying the flavor.

“There’s no reason to apologize for that; I consider it a compliment.” Sean believed in his heart of hearts that it was better to be respected than it was to be feared. More than that, if he couldn’t be respected, he didn’t want to be feared as a substitute. There were people to fear, because of conduct or inclination, but nothing positive came from aspiring to be such a person. “My nephew’s girlfriend described me as a teddy bear, once, and I don’t think her assessment was that far off.”

He didn’t compare to Riley in that regard, but he was still an inherently gentle person. Even if he was equipped with the ability not to be.

At the question, it occurred to him that his other ability had never come up in conversation between the two of them. That wasn’t too surprising, since his secondary ability functioned differently, and he self-identified more with the telepathy than the memory manipulation. However, as with his telepathy, he felt no need to hide the matter when confronted. Meeting the other man’s eyes, he replied, “The thought of losing one’s entire identity to a junior high school student with power slips.”

The telepath spread his hand, the one not holding the mug, as a substitute for a shrug. “I think the world can do with more understanding and less judgment. I try to live my life in accordance with that belief.”

[Vincent Meian]

The image made a grin slide over Vincent's face, and though he quickly hid it with his mug, the expression still showed in the lines at the corners of his eyes. Once he'd composed himself, the drink was set back on the counter, though the mirth in his features was still evident. "Perhaps that is so," he agreed, and left it at that.


It had never really occurred to the trainer that Sean may have another power. It had not come up in conversation at all, nor had anyone thought to speak of it to him (though that would not have been their right in any case). Sean was a strong enough telepath that adding another ability, albeit a related one, seemed like it would have crushed a more weak-willed individual under the strain. As such, the look he gave the man was uncomprehending for a moment. "I do not entirely understand. Your abilities include the erasure of memories?"


Knowing that, he could easily see why the student body - or society as a whole - could be afraid of such a kind person.


"It is a good philosophy," the trainer agreed, nodding slightly. "I commend you for succeeding - not many hold true to their virtues as often as they believe." While Vincent's own code of honor was somewhat unusual, he very rarely deviated from it, even if it made him appear to be a contrary individual. He respected others who strived to do the same.