February Writing Challenge: Age is Just a Number

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time! To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Take one of your characters and make them a different age than they are now. The stories must be set in the present day, and so this is not a matter of their future or past selves. What would they be like? What would their past experiences have been? For example, 13-year-old Sean Neville in 2014 or 50-year-old AJ Lane in 2014.

The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are, by the very nature of the challenge, not canon.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.

[Lani Hunter]

From once by the sun

“There were times, when the pain was so great that it was easy to forget. But there were times… times when the world was so silent that it was impossible to forget.”

Lani Hunter sat in a wheelchair, slightly bent, yet relaxed with gnarled hands clasped lightly in his hands. He was sitting by the pond and smiling contently in the summer sun. It was unclear how much the telekinetic was actually aware of as he was nearly, if not completely, blind. But somehow his watery gray eyes still seemed to know if you were up to no good.

Most people passed him by with little more than a passing glance. Few still remembered who he was and fewer still were around whom he’d taught. Lani gave a faint sigh and he knew when one of those passed as they called out his name and he would wave in a general direction. He was acutely aware of the student who sat in the grass a few feet away. Lani was old but so long as he wasn’t dead no one would sneak up on him.

He could feel and hear the click of the tape recorder that spun as he spoke. “Mr. Hunter, what do you mean?” The boy asked when it seemed Lani had dozed off in the lull of the silence.

It took Lani a moment to answer. “Allow me to start at the beginning… it was… 1923. Things were booming and I had a sister. Just born. Pretty little girl. Well, you know your history. One thing after another. Sister got pneumonia one winter and passed away. The stock market crashed and we lost everything. Not one penny to our name.”

“When were you born, Mr. Hunter?” the kid asked.

“1917,” he said with pride.

“That would make you… 97?”

Lani chuckled, this kid was funny. “Is that so? Well, when you get to be my age… well if my kids didn’t throw me a goddamn party every year I’d probably forget my own birthday.” The old man smiled and tilted his face to the sun feeling the sun and letting it wash over him.

“What happened after the stock market crash?”

“Hmmm? Oh right, there we are. The crash of the stock market. I was a small lad, much like yourself, not much for working, so I moved to the city. It wasn’t like now. There were little rascals like me all over the streets. We got all together and started stealing for scraps. I will tell you kid, I was good. I was the best. And once my power manifested, oh people would come for miles and spend millions to get me to work for them. You see, there was no Hammel way back then. There were just a spattering few of us and most of us had no idea that any others existed. Strange isn’t it? Living in a world where meta humans were myths.”

“You were a thief? I didn’t know that.” The boy gasped missing the question. Lani, however, unalarmed took a moment to listen to the water. The memories ran over his mind like the water over the pebbles the koi splashed around.

“The best.” Lani answered. He was getting toward the end of his time and he no lingered cared to be cautious. After all, telekinetic or not, how dangerous was a feeble old man who couldn’t stand without a great deal of effort. He was no threat. They might gripe, but they would leave him alone. “Does that make you think differently of me?” Lani asked not opening his eyes.

There was a pause and then a very forceful, “No,” from the boy.

Lani smiled and chuckled, “It should.”

The conversation lulled and as Lani say content and half dozing he wondered what the boy was thinking. It was a fleeting thought as his mind no longer had the energy to linger too long on one issue very long. How very different he was now from his youth.

He heard the boy shift, “I thought you went to war?”

Lani blinked into the distance his power the only source of his sight, his eyes were about as blurry as warped glass. He nodded. “I did. You see, we all had to do it on your own. We didn’t have any teachers. Or so we thought. When I was just a little younger than you are I met an old Japanese man. He was a proud, proud man, but to this day I still can’t pronounce his name, it was too much like poetry for my tongue.” Lani chuckled a little remembering the endless hours of training and meditation that had earned him the right to be called a master at telekinesis. “He was my trainer, a telekinetic himself. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Japanese internment camps, well, soon enough my teacher was forced to move. I’ll never forget what he said to me. He said: ‘Lani, you go. Go and win this war. Win for me and for this country.’ So I joined the army.

“He couldn’t fight for his country, so I went for him. My power made me an assent and the army gave me a purpose greater than myself. It was a long time ago and I won’t bore you with the details,” Lani said, though he remembered every detail. The cold and the hunger, the fear and the sickening realization that there were casualties and all of those casualties were human. Not training dummies, real people, with candles snuffed out.

“Mr. Hunter?” The voice called him back out of the memories.

Lani nodded his head a little. “Right, right. So… where were we?”

“The war?”

“Right, right. The war. Nasty time. I am glad I was able to help. We won, but I never saw my teacher again…” Lani could still see his elderly face mournful and hurt as he was forced from his home. Lani had looked. He had looked for years, and never a trace. “After the war I came back home. Things were hard. PTSD wasn’t a thing back then either. It was very hard. I met my wife at a bar in downtown… oh… where was it? Downtown Chicago. Oh she was beautiful. Far too good for me,” Lani chuckled a little at his private joke. “My beautiful Diane. We had three kids. Two girls and a boy. Caroline, Holly, and Kevin.” He nodded in his head. All were older now and had kids of their own. Some of those kids even had kids and Lani loved them all. From his oldest daughter to his youngest great grandchild.

“What brought you to Hammel?”

Lani shifted slightly and waved his hand toward the school. “I wanted to help. I heard about it and my teacher was my savior. I wanted to pass on what he’s taught me. We raised all our kids here. Now Caroline’s in California and Holly’s over in Germany. Kevin’s gone to Boston. Pilot Ridge it feels, has always been home.”

“Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Your life? You had all of your adventures then came to Pilot Ridge? Why?” The boy asked and Lani finally heard the stopping of the recording device.

Lani chuckled. “You’re young, everything feels like right now. I had a lot of adventures when I was your age and a little older. But I tell you this. I was happily married for 62 years and raised three beautiful children. What more could a man want? There is always something to learn, always something new to find. That's an adventure. Even if it’s something you’ve done all along. If you look at it from a different angle you might be surprised.”

The boy stood and Lani could tell from the stance his clothing had taken that he wasn’t pleased with the answer. “But what about Europe? What about the action?”

Lani frowned and looked now directly at the kid his face somber. He crooked a finger at the boy and leaned forward as he approached until he could make out some details of the young face. It was like looking at a past mirror. That haughty expression, bright eyes that veiled boredom and excitement. “Listen to me, young man. The war was not action. It’s not like what you see in the movies. There is no glamour in it. Take pleasure in what you have. I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve got no regrets. That, is the true adventure, and its one you’re on right now. One that you might not reach the end of until you’re my age, or maybe never at all. If you want to measure your life, measure it by how well you can live with yourself at the end of it all.”

Lani had had enough adventure to last him a lifetime. The pain and the agony that went with each one was too much for the old man to bear sometimes. The things he had failed at, he didn’t tell the kid about when Diane found out he was a thief, nor when he stole her engagement ring because he couldn’t find a job.

They’d come to Pilot Ridge because Diane, despite their love refused to marry him if he kept stealing. She was stronger than he’d ever been and he saw her in everything he did. He wouldn’t be here, sitting old and content if Diane had not rescued him from the edge. Even now, without her here, he knew she was there for him. It might have only been a year but it felt like an eternity being without her. He remembered when he was like this boy. So excited to get out into the world and so ready to be done with authority. In his youth, Lani had been such a restless vagabond. The war had changed him, but it had also destroyed him, he couldn’t do anything but steal and fight. The war gave him a purpose and honestly, when it was gone he had nothing. Diane changed all that.

Lani sat back and looked out over the pond. The boy at some point thanked him and moved on. Still able in power and mind Lani wheeled himself back to the gate. The kind nurse helped him back to the nursing home from there and when Lani slept, his dreams were peaceful. And in his dreams he finally flew.

[Gryphon Matsuoka]

Training Wheels

"This is ridiculous. I, I can't do it, it won't work." George huffed in frustration, how did her trainer expect her to do something her power didn't let her do? She wasn't a telekinetic, she was a tracker! As much as being a tracker was annoyingly useless, that was what she was. She turned back to the man, who was considerably taller than her, "And also, your power isn't even mental, like mine! Why should you know what I should do?"

The 33-year old just smiled at his student's frustration. He didn't mean to be demeaning, or unhelpful. But he had his methods. "Just try it." He nodded at a nearby pen pot, "Go on." He knew fully well what her ability was, and he also knew he couldn't somehow teach her to use a different one. That wouldn't make him a very good trainer. But he wanted to see how she tackled this.

George, still completely dumbfounded by the whole situation, froze for a second, then caved, shaking her head, "Alright, whatever you say." She looked at one of the pens that protruded from the pot and concentrated hard on it, willing it to move with her mind. After a long silence and a pretty huge mental struggle, the 17-year-old girl gave up. She looked angrily upon her trainer, "See!" She pointed at the pens, "What did that gain?"

"Well, nothin'." The winged trainer replied, keeping his relaxed state as he spoke.

"...so?" She questionned. Surely he wasn't that stupid... or crazy.

"That's the point." He smiled calmly, "You keep rushin' into things." It was true - George was a very brash person, and a little lazy, so she often hurried along the process of things when she felt impatient. "If you speed into everythin', you're gonna get somethin' wrong, whether it's as tedious as gettin' a minor detail confused," he glanced over at the pens, "Or as simple as doin' the wrong technique entirely." He looked back over at George, "You understand?"

She was... surprisingly comprehending this, "...yeah, yeah I do."

He smiled, "Brilliant. D'you wanna try again then?"

George nodded slowly, accepting - she was going to get it right this time; no memory loss, no headaches and no distractions. All she had to do was take her time. "Alright, sir."

He shook his head and chuckled as he opened a window and turned to leave, "I've told you so many times before, George, just call me Gryph." He grinned and closed the door behind him, leaving George smiling to herself. She was glad she had him as a trainer. As soon as he left, she almost went back to her usual routine, from habit, which was to slouch on Mr. Matsuoka's chair and check Twitter on her phone until the bird came to the window, but this time... she was ready. She took out her phone and left it out of arm's reach, on his desk, and then sat cross-legged on the floor. Patience wasn't in her nature, but... she was trying for once, miracles could happen.

Gryphon knew where he was gonna go this time. A lot of the other times, he just found some random spot on the school grounds, but this time he would be friendly, in a way. After a few minutes of wandering around, he was opening the door to the library. It had a few students dotted here and there, with the librarian no-where to be seen. Gryphon frowned, but he'd find the scruffy-haired man later. He opened a window and called outside, tweeting to one of the birds nearby. Seeing how long he had hung around at Hammel and Pilot Ridge, he had made friends with some of the avian inhabitants of the area.

Terrence heard the sound of a bird, but it was a little... off. Artificial, if you would. Which meant one thing, probably. He sat up from his chair in his office and exited the room, going into the library, where - yes, there he was.

A bird had just landed on the window sill as Terrence approached the trainer, smiling. He made sure the winged staff member wasn't in the middle of talking before greeting him, "Gryphon." They didn't talk a lot, but when they did, it was very friendly and comfortable. Even though their personalities were pretty opposed.

Gryphon's ears pricked up a little at the sound of his own name. Recognizing the voice, and the man who stood nearby now, he smiled, "Hi, Terrence. I'm not disturbin' anythin', am I?" He queried politely. He didn't want to be annoying his friend.

The librarian smiled, "Not at all."

Gryphon nodded and turned back to the bird, before twittering out his request. The bird puffed out it's chest and flew off to go do it's job; Gryph turned back to the book-lover, "Just in the middle of a trainin' session." Terrence glanced around for a second, slightly confused. Gryph gave an answer to his silent question, "I know it doesn't look like it - she has t'find me." It was like one big game of hide and seek, really. If George ever really played that game, she could cheat so badly.

Terrence nodded half-knowingly, it was an interesting ability, to find somebody... that was tracking, if his memory served him (which it often did). "Must be fun." He mused, "Helping students to work with their abilities."

Gryph agreed whole heartedly, "It is, I'm glad I came back." He had considered a lot of professions, but the idea of being a trainer was... intriguing. And he never looked back.

As the two Hammel staff members spoke, Georgina sat on the floor, eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing. The only thing she could hear was the wind through the trees outside and the occasional noise such as the sound of feet walking up and down the stairs, so it was easy for her to detect when the bird had arrived. This was how Mr. Matsuoka communicated that he was ready. She opened her eyes to double-check; yes, there it was. She nodded at it and it flew off again, as always. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her inner thoughts. She recalled Gryphon, his full name, his appearance. She knew where he was, the library. Now he was moving... Librarian's Office. This was alright, she was in control. Back in the Library... now the hall... she recalled his location with a greater specificity than usual, she knew the moment when he was in a different room, when he was moving faster, or slower. She tried not to get distracted by her thoughts of the possible side effects, but just trying to avoid them waned her connection for a second; her head twanged slightly in pain. He was... on the stairs. Coming back.

A few minutes later and the door opened - George didn't even acknowledge that fact. Because she knew he was going, she actually knew, and she did it properly. She smiled and broke off the tracking connection, a dull headache lingering on her head, a slight dizziness overcoming her at first. She looked up at her trainer.

Gryphon could tell from the way she beamed that she had done well, and that fact alone made him smile just as wide. He was glad, she was finally getting somewhere. The progress was being welcomed with wide arms, it's what they both needed, and it was what Gryph had been waiting for.

[Stefan Spencer]

To Be Young And In Love
(with many apologies to Sean)

Over the past year or so seventeen year old Stefan had really became quite the ladies’ man. And while his grades hadn’t started to suffer too much, he had developed the habit of slacking off on assignments so he could entertain one pretty face or another. Added to that was his inability to arrive to any class on time. The hallways were just way too distracting to keep track of the time.

It didn’t help that the developed control of his ability allowed him instant gratification when the compliments he tossed around the halls like roses of adoring fans were picked up by someone who appreciated them.

Some teen age guys felt lucky if they could get a girl to smile or maybe even actually talk back to them. But with his ability Stefan picked up on every minute detail of a girl’s reaction. And lately he was getting better at understanding the thoughts and feelings hidden in each subtle gesture or twitch.

It was addicting.

It didn’t take long for Stefan to branch out beyond the young girls that roamed the halls at Hammel. He often spent weekends strolling Pilot Ridge with his eye on a more mature catch. He tried to keep his aim of off the women who worked at the school but he’d developed a taste for their maturity and experience and sometimes his eagerness got the best of him.

After hearing about Stefan’s flirtatious comments towards Ariela, Ella, and Maebelle all in one afternoon, Sean had decided it was time to sit the boy down to explain a few rules about student/teacher relationships. Stefan had never been that much of a trouble maker but he had always been an outgoing young lad. Not to mention a yearly front row attendant of Sean’s annual talks, so the older man felt he knew Stefan rather well even if the boy had never been in his office before now.

Stefan was actually looking forward to their little chat. A few weeks ago his friend Oriel had invited him to chill with Erik for some “boy talk”. Of course the conversation had quickly turned into a discussion of the three’s sexual escapades. At first Stefan had been a tad uncomfortable at the prominence that other boys played in their discussion, but with Oriel pointed out that being more open to the idea would double his playing field Stefan had started to wonder just what it would be like. Still he was more interested in the idea of “men” not “boys”. After all women were better than girls in his experience. He hadn’t gotten a change to try out his new theory yet, but then he got the message that Sean wanted to see him in his office.

Stefan had always looked up to Sean. How could he not after the man’s obvious openness about discussing Stefan’s favorite subject? Added to that was the fact that Stefan had seen Sean out on the town and once or twice at a school function to chaperon with another man. So who better than Sean for Stefan to have around to explore his new branch of his sexuality? It certainly seemed to Stefan that the stars were aligning.

After class the boy had ran back to his dorm to spruce up a little. He put on a clean shirt that he felt brought out the blue in his eyes perfectly and made sure his hair looked perfect. On a whim he also pulled on the blazer he’d recently bought for special occasion. Stefan loved how it made him look more classy and, more importantly, older.

“Come on in Stefan,” a voice called out just as the boy was raising his hand to knock on the office door. For a moment Stefan was surprised, but then he remembered the doctor’s ability. Although he had considered how much telepath would benefit him in his “extracurricular activities”, Stefan had long ago decided that the limits of his ability were just fine. He had enough to go by without needing to “her” any actual thoughts.

“Doctor Neville,” Stefan said, smiling as he walked in and helped himself to the seat across from Sean’s desk, the closest chair available to the man in the room. “How are you on this glorious afternoon?”

In the time it took him to settle into his seat, Stefan knew that this meeting had not been arranged as a friendly visit. Still Stefan wasn’t worried. In fact, he always enjoyed a good challenge. He was confident in his smooth talking to work things out.

“I am fine. And yourself?” Sean replied simply, his tone a bit flat. He leaned back in his chair slightly creating more space between the two of them.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Stefan answered, learning his own body forward as if the connection between them was magnetic. “I worry about you, always working so hard to keep all these kids in line. Must be very hard. I do hope you find the time for…rewarding yourself. And if you ever need anything I—“

"Stefan, I think-" Sean said, interrupting the boy only to be interrupted himself a few words later.

"Doctor Neville, let me finish I--" Stefan said, getting out of his chair to walk around the desk. He attempted to reach for the older man's hand, but the doctor knew it was coming. "Sean. Honey. Handsome. Don't tell me you don't feel it too."

"No. Please sit back down." Sean said, raising his voice a bit and giving Stefan an unwavering look. He waited for the boy to sit before continuing. "Stefan. I am a staff member. You are a student. So no. End of discussion."

"But what if-"

"No."

"Well how about when-"

"No."

"Not even if I-"

"No."

"Well fine. Be that way. I don't care." Stefan, who had become more visibly upset with each rejection, said as he rose to his feet. "I don't need this. There's a school...no a town full of handsome people just waiting for me to notice them." He started to storm out the door. "But when you change your mind, handsome, I'll be waiting."

Sean considered getting the boy to return to his seat so they could discuss the issue further, but felt it best maybe to let the boy cool down for a bit. Hopefully after thinking things over for a day Stefan would be easier to talk to. But Sean had a horrible feeling that this discussion was far from over and that Stefan would need a bit of repetition before the message started to sink in.

And sadly, he was right.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: Trigger warnings for mentions and descriptions of the Holocaust and all the inherent horror involved therein.))

All Around the World Or the Myth of Fingerprints

He says, “There’s no doubt about it,
It was the myth of fingerprints.
I’ve seen them all and, man,
They’re all the same.”

Sean Neville looked forward to retirement.

It was on the horizon. With each graduation ceremony, the date drew nearer.

He and Joshua had agreed to retire when the telepath turned eighty. Given that his job was stressful but not labor-intensive, and given that there were other, younger staff members who, already, had begun to ease his work burden, it had seemed a fair compromise.

Planning retirement was his current hobby. He and Joshua had plans for how they would spend their remaining golden years. They wanted to travel: to take a ship to England and go to Europe for one last big trip abroad, followed by smaller trips across the U.S.

That Joshua was willing to – interested in – traveling to Germany was momentous. Truthfully, Sean wouldn’t have faulted the younger man one iota, had he insisted on not stepping foot in Germany, even all of these decades later. Yet, when planning the travel itinerary, it had been the younger man’s suggestion.

“I want to see Munich,” the other man had explained, before becoming recalcitrant, as he typically was on this particular subject.

All of these decades later, Sean still remembered laying eyes on Joshua for the first time.

William and Mary Neville had explained to their two children, amidst the war rations and the (largely unnecessary) air raid drills, that they were going to take in another child. A little boy, a refugee from Germany, by way of England. It would take a while to bring him safely to New York, but eventually he would come.

“How long will he stay?” Sean had asked.

“Until he’s an adult. He’s a Jew.”

Sean hadn’t asked any follow-up questions. He had been too young to know the full details of what, exactly, was going on in Europe, but he knew that Jews weren’t safe. They were killed and forced into hiding, robbed of their culture and their families and their very lives.

Just like how England treated their Irish brothers and sisters in the motherland. Worse than that, even.

As a teenager and an adult, Sean had learned that the plight of Jews in Germany had been far worse than that of the Irish in occupied Ireland. There hadn’t been systematic death camps in occupied Ireland. Nobody murdered by John Bull had had their skin turned into lampshades. There had been no twin experiments, no gross vivisection on his Celtic ancestors and relatives.

At the time, however, Sean had no thoughts or knowledge of those events. Instead, he had been simultaneously curious about, and excited at, the prospect of another boy in the house. Someone not American. Someone German. Someone Jewish.

The refugee boy was small and thin, with dark hair too long for the shape of his head; the bangs drooped into his keen blue eyes. His clothing was well-worn, ill-fitting, and out of date, even with a war on, it was noticeably out of style. He had a thick accent, but, at least because he had come through England, he spoke some English.

His name was Joshua Bernstein.

He was the same age as Kathleen. Whereas she was curious, like most children their age, Joshua was shy and withdrawn. He asked no questions of any of the Nevilles; he merely nodded when William and Mary introduced themselves and the children, and then led him to the guest room that would become his bedroom.

The culture shock was enormous.

The Nevilles, like the vast majority of Irish-American families that came to the U.S. as part of the Diaspora, were Catholic. They lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood (although there were some Italians at the end of the block). William and Mary knew very little about Judaism, and Sean and Kathleen – as relatively insulated Catholic children – knew next to nothing about that culture or their beliefs.

They didn’t eat pork, Sean had heard, but that was a rumor, and the older Neville child didn’t know if that was true.

However, the Nevilles were also from a culture that had been destroyed and suppressed for hundreds of years in their native land. Thus, William and Mary made a decision not to rip what remaining connection Joshua might have of his culture from him. They had already agreed to raise him alongside their children; the Neville parents were sure they could find some way to accommodate his beliefs, at least some of them.

At the hospital where William Neville worked, there was a Jewish doctor named Benjamin Goldwater. William tracked him down to ask for advice in how to accommodate the boy’s culture while still working within the parameters of the Neville family’s culture.

The Nevilles ate no meat on Fridays and kept vegetarian (technically, pescetarian) for the full duration of Lent, while also fasting. Fasting to Catholics was considerably different than it was to Jews. Catholics fasted by calendar day, from rising to waking, and were permitted one regular-sized meal on fast days. Jews fasted from sundown to the following sundown (technically for twenty-five hours), and ate nothing during that time. Doctor Goldwater emphasized the fact that Joshua was too young to fast, that he wouldn’t be allowed to fast until he became Sean’s age, but that the Nevilles would have to ease him into the practice.

The nearest Synagogue, they learned, was Reform, which was unrecognizable to Joshua insofar as it was a primarily North American religious movement. Joshua was young enough that if William and Mary had sent him to that Synagogue, he wouldn’t know better by the time he was an adult, but that felt somehow wrong to them. Instead, on Doctor Goldwater’s advice, they found a Conservative Synagogue not that much farther away. Sean, as the oldest child, was tasked with walking Joshua to and from services on Saturday morning.

Sean found most of this baffling. Yet, as he was ever-obedient, he did as his parents told him and minded the younger boy every Saturday morning. Overprotective, Sean would wait outside and read, rather than go to the neighborhood soda fountain or return home in the interim. His presence helped to make sure none of the other boys would pick on Joshua for being Jewish or for having an accent and not being American.

While Sean was gentle as a lamb, he grew like a weed, and his father was the tallest man in the neighborhood. That gave him some street presence.

Gentle as a lamb, and a patient listener, the only Neville son used that time to get to know Joshua better. They spent time together at home, and whenever they did things as a family, but the time after Joshua’s Synagogue services was theirs alone. They would talk, really talk, mostly about whatever was on Joshua’s mind. Sometimes Sean asked questions to prod the younger boy or to satiate his own curiosity.

They became close. Despite being the same age as Kathleen, Joshua was closest to Sean out of all of the Nevilles. And, in many ways, Sean found himself closer to Joshua than he was to his own flesh-and-blood sister. Over the course of the next few years, with Sean’s help, Joshua was able to break out of his quiet shell, becoming increasingly better-adjusted, more comfortable, louder, and surer of himself.

Life progressed. Kathleen had her First Communion. Joshua began to study Hebrew at his Synagogue, and Sean took Catechism classes in slow, years-long anticipation of his Confirmation at the end of eighth grade.

Then the voices started.

Everywhere Sean went, he heard voices. Voices that whispered in his mind, some that shouted at him. Telling him lies disguised as insidious secrets, but which couldn’t possibly be true. At first, Sean tried to hide the voices from his family, but that grew increasingly difficult and eventually impossible the more the voices whispered lies about his loved ones.

His only respite was when he was asleep. Fortunately, it was summer recess from school, and so Sean spent an increasing amount of time in his bedroom, alone.

Something is wrong with Sean. The voices said.

What if he’s sick? The voices asked. What if he’s crazy?

Sean didn’t want to be crazy. He didn’t want to be sick. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to continue to be a good Catholic boy and to make his family proud. He didn’t want to let his family down, and he didn’t want to disappoint his parents and the Jesuits.

Still, he was in pain all of the time; his head pounded like construction. Every waking moment he heard the voices. And he was constantly fatigued.

Sean knew everyone was worried. The voices told him that, and those were the only truths they whispered. Although it created a crisis of faith; if the voices were right about anything, then it opened up the possibility that they were right about everything.

He also knew that his parents were considering sending him to a mental institution. Sean didn’t want to go there; those were the horrific places where embarrassed families sent their crazy and disturbed relatives. People spent the rest of their lives at those places before dying there. But, unlike the hospital where William Neville worked, where patients had more acute illnesses, crazy people wouldn’t die from being crazy. So they could live decades behind those walls.

Sean didn’t want to become like them.

Which was why he was grateful when he fell into Robert Hopkins’s lap.

The man came from a special school in Vermont. He had come for an education conference in Manhattan, but he’d heard rumors that had led him to the door of the Neville family home. Sean stayed in his room during the visit. Kathleen hid in her bedroom. Joshua chose to hide in Sean’s.

The visit last all day, and it ended with Sean being dragged to the hospital by his father and a stranger for a blood test.

Afterward, he was sent away. To the special school in Vermont, instead of to a mental institution.

“You aren’t crazy,” Robert Hopkins had told him. “You’re a telepath, like I am.”

Sean spent six years away from home, up in Vermont. Six years separated from his family. Six years separated from Joshua.

That was why Sean chose to go to college close to home. Joshua confessed one evening that this was why he had applied to the same college that Sean attended, so that they could resume spending time together, the way they used to before Hammel.

When they were alone together at college and then graduate school, more confessions came. Sharing an apartment to conserve housing costs led to spending even more time together than when they were children. They were close, nearly joined at the hip.

No matter how many poems, books, songs, and movies claimed, love wasn’t a lightning strike. Sean couldn’t say when, exactly, he started to fall in love with Joshua, even though he remembered perfectly when he first realized. Joshua, he knew, had loved him for years before that.

William and Mary Neville could never know. Kathleen could never know. Society could never know, lest it destroy their careers. How could Sean hope to be a psychiatrist if he suffered from a mental illness himself? How could Joshua hope to study and teach the law if others thought him perverted and deviant?

So they hid, living the lives of bachelors, and offering vague excuses for why they didn’t settle down and marry nice women with whom they could have children and families. They were too busy, and, in the safety and privacy of their home, they were only committed to each other. Through the decades.

They had been together for longer than most of their neighbors had been alive. That was why, when Vermont had finally provided the two men with the opportunity to share their relationship with the world, they took advantage. William and Mary had died long ago, and the world had changed enough that there was no reason to hide.

Long ago, he had made peace with the knowledge that he could never give Joshua’s family back to the younger man. Instead, he was grateful to be the family that Joshua needed. Just as Joshua was the family for which the telepath had yearned.

Sean Neville looked forward to retirement.

Looking down at the gold band on his ring finger, he thought of everything that he and Joshua could do when they took that next step together. Traveling. Gardening. Some mentoring, perhaps. Photography. Being elders together. That was everything that he wanted for him and Joshua, and, he knew, that was everything his husband wanted for them as well.