January Writing Challenge: Keep this Promise

[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: Since it's January 1st and officially a new year, resolutions are on everyone's minds. Write a story about a character making a promise and trying to keep it. This can be a resolution/promise to oneself, or to another person, to a group of people, or to an institution (like a professional or religious oath).

The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not site canon unless expressly stated, and anything setting-breaking will not be site canon regardless.
  
• 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.
  
• Ficlets must be titled.

[Lani Hunter]

The Final

The ground was hard under his back and Lani breathed carefully before opening his eyes to darkness. The silence was broken only by his short breaths that clouded in the air. The telekinetic sat up slowly and tried to get a sense of his bearings. A fine mist drifted across the barren earth and there was nothing but the blackest night as far as he could see. There weren’t even any stars. He got to his feet and took a deep breath, looking this way and that for a sign.

No sooner had he taken a step forward than he was flung back by a wall rising from the ground. All around him large stone walls rose in the span of a second looming high into the black sky. The telekinetic placed his hands against the stone, it was smooth, flawless. Impossible to climb. He was closed in on all sides. He could blast his way through, but who knew what was waiting on the other side. No, this would take cleverness not blasting. Lani placed his hands against each of the walls in turn then he felt each of them with his power. Ah!

The left wall, his power couldn’t feel it. How strange, the telekinetic pondered as he placed his hand against it again. It felt just as solid and cold as the other walls. Yet, his power told him it wasn’t there. He tried feeling it with his power and with his hand at the same time and got an eerie sense of double ‘vision’ that confused him more than anything. His hand was convinced that it was there and his power was equally convinced it wasn’t. But… Lani closed his eyes and let his power fan out like radar and immediately the puzzle became clear. A series of concentric squares each with one opening.

Half convinced he was going to smack his head into the wall, Lani placed one hesitant foot forward. Feeling nothing, he took another and another until according to his mental map he was outside the innermost wall. He opened his eyes and let out a relieved breath, all in one piece. He turned back and reached out to feel the wall again. Still solid as ever. Curious, Lani pressed his hand against the wall and closed his eyes. He opened his power to the world and then pushed his hand forward, it met no resistance.

A smile crossed the telekinetic’s face and he closed his eyes. With the mental map in his head he navigated the maze easily and when he came upon the last wall he pass through the opening without incident. He’d never trusted his power so completely before, it was like someone was opening his eyes for the first time.

At his back loomed the walls, so high he couldn’t see the top as they faded into blackness. Forward was a bright and innocent meadow filled with the golden remains of old grass. The boundary between the brilliant blue sky and the black walls was abrupt and sharp. He took a step forward and felt the grass against his hands and wondered what puzzle would await him here. The sky grew orange and his shadow stretched long against the wall.

Suddenly, the ground vanished and Lani had the horrible sensation that he was falling. He let out a scream and his power rushed to save him, but he soon realized it was unnecessary and put himself down on solid ground. His eyes didn’t like it, it looked like he was floating in space, but his power against reassured him of the existence of the ground.

Lani was about to employ the same methodology used to beat the last puzzle but another figure appeared in the space. He was tall and lean. He was wearing all black and blended well against the space. His face was thin and angular a slight blond stubble on his chin and cheeks. He had a broad forehead and a short crop of blond hair. Bright in the darkness were a pair of sly gray eyes and uneven eyebrows that spoke of cockiness, despite the dark weariness under the eyes. The lips were cocked in a lopsided smile, one that gave him an impish appearance, as if he knew something that Lani did not. Lani was frozen where he stood. It was him, exactly as he had seen himself in the mirror this morning. He reached up and touched the side of his face, knowing the small pale scar that stood there. Mirror Lani mimicked the action and the telekinetic swallowed. His power reached out and disturbingly enough there were clothes there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t feel anything living, he couldn’t feel the person inside the clothing but it moved and that made it real enough. He had to assume that there was someone alive in there. There was an alternative, but if he was wrong…

As if sensing him using his power the Mirror Lani’s eyes glazed over and Lani started. He’d never seen himself like this, Odion had once said his eyes glowed but Lani had never actually believed him but it was there and it was terrifying. A pale yellow that lit from within and seemed to overtake his entire being. Lani took a step back, the world around him seemed to shift and his power lurched up with enough time to stop the sharp rock fragment from impaling him.

The telekinetic fretted, Mirror Lani looked terrifying, a smile on his face as he stood his eyes upturned and a far away laugh coming from him. The world came alive, pitching and moving, sliding this way and that. Lani swallowed, this was the final test, it had to be. After the maze and the standard strength and accuracy test before that. Lani had the sensation of tipping and he opened his mind and righted the world in his mind. Terrifying as it was, in order to beat himself he had to become that person. He had to become that person and still retain himself.

Letting his shields fall away, his power flooded the area and everything was clear and sharp as if he’d studied every inch with a microscope. He felt himself detaching, getting lost in the roar of his power. It rose from him like a dragon, full of single-minded will, all controlled by him. Controlling him. He was drunk on the power and he breathed it in. He could bring the whole world to its knees, he could create and he could destroy, he was power and he was losing to it. This was a person, he had no way of verifying, but he also had no way of verifying that it wasn’t a person. Whatever was in those clothes he had to treat it like it was a person. He couldn’t just destroy them.

It was then Lani realized what the test was. He opened his eyes and the world moved around him. For a while he was on the defensive, blocking and throwing back. He forgot his body and was all consumed by the power, he was everywhere. He grabbed Mirror Lani’s pant leg and swept it back, taking him off balance, at the same time Lani felt his own feet go out from under him.

He caught sight of a vine, strong and thick wrapped around his ankle. His power didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel it. He cursed and struggled. He finally sliced it with a sharp rock and rolled to his feet, in time to propel himself with his power up and over a large rolling bolder. He skidded over the top and landed hand on his feet, falling forward onto his hands. Mirror Lani had recovered and had that far away laugh going again. Lani smirked and joined the laughter, effectively shutting up Mirror Lani. “You underestimate me, friend,” Lani said a smile on his face, unsure who he was really talking to. He grasped his power with both hands and the dragon raged against him, longing to destroy their opponent.

He found the balance, his center and he forced the power to ground there. Something in his mind clicked, in such a way Lani felt it was the piece he had been missing all along. It wasn’t a very strong hold, but it had been what he was looking for all along. In the span of three seconds the telekinetic’s glowing eyes had laid themselves on his opponent and he raced forward. It was then that Lani became aware of the fullness of his power.

Lani followed his Mirror and they whirled around each other moving in a elaborate dance of combat. Lani struck with power and limb, delivering a blow that Mirror Lani would block and then Lani would have to parry a mental attack. Lani was light on his feet. There were three things that he lived his life by: never admit to anything, never show any weakness, and always be quicker than your opponent. He was in and out of striking range with the speed of a viper. He twisted out of Mirror Lani’s grip when he got too close. Then he attacked from a distance. Knocking aside the large objects tossed his way, throwing some back. Finally, Lani rushed forward and faking left then attacking below he dropped to the ground and kicked Mirror Lani’s feet out from under him at the same time he grabbed Mirror Lani with his power and pushed him back. Mirror Lani backpedaled quickly and fell, but just as quickly rolled to his feet again, but this time Lani was the pursuer, calculating and vicious.

Lani rose objects into his way to redirect him so he was always running back into the real Lani where he faced quick and vicious jabs from a target that always danced away when an opening became clear. Soon enough, Mirror Lani turned to fight. Who would have thought Lani’s greatest opponent would have been himself. They were equally matched, but Lani had something Mirror Lani didn’t. His humanity. He was no longer lost in the abyss of his power, no longer drowning in it. He commanded it in its fullness and it obeyed. His power bore down on Mirror Lani.

Whoever was working with Mirror Lani kept trying to distract him. Loud noises, his power took care of without a thought from Lani. Flashes of light and even a pitching floor. Lani wasn’t a fool, he didn’t keep doing the same thing, he was as malleable as gold. He was planning and calculating, forcing Mirror Lani where he wanted him. His mind was focused on Mirror Lani, but he was still very aware of his body and he dodged and dashed and attacked another vine that tried to trip him up. There were a hundred and one distractions, all trying to keep him from his task, all trying to startled him out of his control. Chilling screams from demonic creatures that swooped down with claws like knives. The slashed at him and Lani unable to feel them, dodged them anyways, just in case they were real and alive. He swept them aside with a broke piece of the walls.

Lani piled more and more power, drawing it from deep within and still more seemed to follow. His power swirled around him protectively skating jagged stone edges against anything that passed through a wide radius. It weighed down with its invisible pressure, pushing down on Mirror Lani until he fell to his knees then flat, in danger of being crushed by Lani’s power. Lani felt the power’s hunger, its fury! Crush! Destroy! I am all powerful!

Lani pulled it back, stopping it there. Mirror Lani lay panting and pinned by his clothing to the ground. “This is over,” Lani said, his voice echoing with the force of a hundred voices through the black space.

Abruptly, the world swirled away and the testing room in Hammel came into form once again. It looked like a war zone, walls torn open, pieces of metal still hovering in midair, rubbles of stone scattered as far as he could see. But the security officers, in charge of making sure no one got injured, look unconcerned. Lani breathed a sigh of relief, he still remembered his first test. They’d had to go into emergency shutdown mode and a power suppressor shut him down so quickly he’d been unconscious for hours and unsettled for several days afterward.

He let his power dissipate and with great care he siphoned it back into himself. Now that he was idle his skull throbbed with a vengeance. His power closed behind his shields, no longer beating against them as he let a small trickle out to satisfy its own curiosity, it ruffled the air and did little more than inspect things. Mirror Lani rose to his feet and as he shook his head his hair grew dark and thick and he shrunk a few inches while he broadened a great deal in the chest. One of Hammel’s trainers grinned up at him and threw out his hand.

Lani clasp it uncertainly and the trainer beamed, shaking his hand until Lani felt like his shoulder might slip from its socket. Lani’s own trainer, the one that wouldn’t give up, entered the room and gave Lani a thumbs up before letting in the Panel.

For a half hour they criticized, they praised, they questioned. Occasionally, they told Lani to do something more with his power. Finally, after what felt like forever they let him go out into the waiting room while they deliberated.

“Brilliant, my boy! Simply brilliant!” His trainer said picking him up as she hugged him tightly enough to push the air from his lungs. He was glad she’d forgiven him for throwing her into a wall.

“You think so?” He asked when he could breathe again.

The other trainer who’d played the part of Mirror Lani laughed boomingly. “Absolutely! I thought I was a goner there for a moment, but damned if you didn’t pull it off.”

Lani smiled hesitantly, not willing to get his hopes up. This was the first time he’d actually gotten to the deliberation stage and he was exhausted. He’d had a few pills to take the edge off his headache but he couldn’t sit still. He paced and fidgeted. Every other time before this one he’d done something very obviously wrong and they had either not let him finish the test or he had finished but extremely out of control and was sent home with a ‘better luck next time’. And another year of training would begin all over again.

The door opened and his trainer poked her head in and said they were ready for him. He flew to the door unsure if he was eager or terrified, or a mixture of both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lani’s head was aching ferociously and he left the training hallway feeling a little bit dazed. A familiar face jumped up when he appeared and Caroline rushed toward him an eager and hopeful, yet guarded expression on her face.

Lani’s face broke into a smile and he lifted his arms in triumph. “I passed!”

Caroline squealed and threw herself into his arms. Spinning her around once, he laughed. He couldn’t wait to tell Odion! He couldn’t wait to tell his parents! “We’re celebrating,” Lani declared, “Go get your stuff, we’ll go to my place.” Caroline nodded and dashed off.

Lani breathed out, still having a hard time believing it himself. He looked down, realizing he’d pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed his mother and pressed the receiver to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom, guess what?” Lani said a grin on his face, he felt like a child again longing the approval of his parents.

“What?” She asked her voice trilling with excitement.

“I had my powers test today. I passed!”

There was a shout of excitement on the other end. “Congratulations Lani!” He heard a voice in the background, presumably his father and his mother quickly repeated Lani’s news. There was a clicking on the phone that switched it to speaker and he heard his mothers gushing along with his father.

“You passed?” His father asked.

Lani shrugged. “Well, not with flying colors but yeah, I passed. I’m officially in control.” Lani’s smile became uncertain and he heard a laugh on the other end.

“Good for you, Lani.” His father said, quickly followed by his mother. “We are so proud of you, sweetheart! We knew you could do it! Oh, you’ll have to come home, we’ll celebrate!”

Lani laughed, feeling himself near to bursting. “That sounds great, I can’t wait.” Lani said a quick farewell as Caroline appeared again a book bag filled with clothing. She was getting taller and as they walked he realized she was almost to his shoulder. He still put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. She gave him a side hug and started chattering about what they would have to do to celebrate.

“No,” Lani said cutting off her list with a laugh, “You are not drinking anything but soda.” Caroline pouted for a moment before flying back into her chatter. He couldn’t believe it, at the beginning of the year he’d decided to work harder, try more and practice for his test. And it had paid off, he’d passed! He among literally everyone else at Hammel had never truly believed this day would come. And the taste of freedom was glorious.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

You’re Kind

You’re kind,
You’re so kind.
You rescued me when I was blind.

His head throbbed, as it always did after a difficult session.

In that regard, life had not changed. Even though he now sat in the comfortable chair behind the desk, rather than a less comfortable one in front of it. Even though he now had his own office with a fancy nameplate outside the door, one which held his full name and professional title, the one for which he had studied and trained a decade to earn. Even though people gazed at him with respect rather than pity (although occasionally the same distrust or fear shone in people’s expressions; he more easily set it aside these days). Even though people from far and wide sought him out rather than shunning him. Now, as then, he stood apart from his peers, although for vastly different reasons.

I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant:
I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

He possessed a particular set of skills. Untrained, they had caused him social isolation from his peers and suspicion from most of his instructors. Trained, he had developed a unique specialty, offering a form of therapy unmatched by his non-psychic colleagues.

He had written and published articles in professional journals on the topic. It had begun as a hypothetical situation, posed as part of a philosophical debate about professional ethics and compassion. Then it had progressed into real situations, which had resulted in the case study. The case study that would never see the light of day for all manner of objections: privacy concerns, copyright issues, and the simple fact that informed consent could never be confirmed, refreshed, or revoked, due to the very nature of the therapy at hand. Even with the waiting period and with the signed disclosure forms he secured ahead of time.

I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures [that] are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

Before he had entered the profession, no research existed in this area. There still existed no Standards and Practices, no professional guidelines to steady his hand and to temper his judgment. After all, how could guidelines exist for only one person? Nobody in either the AMA or the APA had experience with his unique style of therapy, even if they contributed to his reputation by reminding the world around them never to refer to anything as “a miracle.”

No regulatory committee could determine whether he had gone too far or if his choices proved too conservative. Instead, they relied on his training and on hindsight, which always provided clarity when it was too late.

As of yet, he had never gone too far. Although he had renounced his faith years ago, he now worshiped at the altar of precision.

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

He specialized in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, in addiction, in suicide ideation, in toxic relationships. The greatest pain and deepest suffering known to mankind replayed hour after hour, five days each week (with certain patients who made appearances on Saturday and Sunday to bring him to a full seven), in this very office.

Some patients sobbed when sharing their deepest secrets. Some refused to look him in the eye, instead staring at their shoes or a knickknack on his desk as they mumbled their pain and frustration, struggling to articulate thoughts that plagued them from the moment they woke until their last seconds of consciousness before falling asleep each night. Others found themselves unable to speak the words aloud, instead relying on his telepathy to ferret out the truth and to bridge the gap between them.

His heart swelled for each and every one of his patients, even though he kept a calm demeanor and never lost his patience. Words of comfort only went so far when someone shared the deepest parts of themselves, yearning for a simple solution to complex problems.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

He kept a rolodex on his desk, filled with the names, addresses, and telephone numbers of every colleague with whom he had ever worked, and of every professional who had a respectable reputation. He had never been shy about referring patients when they requested, or when he believed they would benefit from a different style of therapy. Or about encouraging them to seek out a second opinion.

As it was, he rented office space in a building that housed a number of doctors spread across a wide variety of specialties. Each was a solo practitioner, but between military veterans and HIV/AIDS in the City, many of their patients required assistance from multiple professionals. Immunology, ENT services, cardiovascular monitoring, pain management...and so much therapy.

Sometimes it felt that everyone around him referred patients to his office. Fully half of his patients these days arrived for their first session with a referral form in hand.

I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

From the age of twelve onward, Sean Neville had kept secrets. Even before, he had been privy to the occasional secret from a friend or from his sister, something harmless that involved a harmless crush or trading lunches or what someone had overheard from adults, and which never made complete sense when translated into the language of children.

When his telepathy manifested, he learned what a real secret was. Not the inane concerns of innocent children stumbling through childhood, but the true depths of darkness that ran beneath the wide world around them. Abortion. Abuse. Affairs. Assault. Homosexuality. Substance abuse. Suicide Ideation. Lies upon lies upon lies. The deepest fears anyone faced. Anxiety that boiled just beneath the surface. Depression that caused people to barely leave their beds, or, if they could get out of bed, to leave their houses to go through life little more than zombies going through the motions.

He had never told a secret, not outside of the bounds of ethical responsibility. As a child, he had kept secrets because his simplistic views of morality had told him that to spill a secret was wrong. Something told to him in secret was a matter of trust, and he wanted to be trustworthy, wanted to keep that trust.

Once he gained the ability to learn secrets without being told, his perspective had changed. So many secrets came to him without that level of trust; nobody asked him to keep these secrets, because nobody expected that he knew in the first place. He began to keep those secrets, not because someone had asked him to, but because they did not belong to him, and thus they were not his to share with others.

By the time he reached medical school and his internship, he was an expert in keeping secrets. The lectures about professional responsibility, the ones explaining that no matter how tempting it might be, he could not share were laughably irrelevant. He knew all that.

Only the imminent threats were to be shared, if he could not intervene himself. Only the child abuse had to be reported by law.

The only difference between himself now and himself then was that the fancy degrees and certificates on his wall meant that now people paid him for the privilege of keeping their secrets while they unburdened themselves to him week after week.

I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick.

Hour after hour, session after session, he stared into the pained eyes of desperate people.

In college, he had gone with some of his friends to see a new space epic by the man who directed American Graffiti. It had been a genre change, but they had wanted to give it a chance. Popularity of that movie had exploded and resulted in two subsequent movies. One line stuck out in his mind.

“Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

Although he was neither a Jedi Knight nor the esteemed nor Alec Guinness, he felt that same push to action. The psychiatrist was not even the only person to make that comparison. Some of the younger patients made remarks to the same effect. How they relied on him to fix what they themselves could not.

More than one person had asked about his Jedi Mind Trick, although never sarcastically, never disrespectfully. Some asked because they were unsure if he could really do it. Some were awed upon the referral to think that it was possible.

That someone could take away their pain, take away the lingering presence of that which had haunted them for so long. That someone could make them whole again, could make them normal, even if he loathed that term on a personal level.

For a fee.

He worked on a sliding scale, and he accepted both Medicaid and Medicare in lieu of private insurance, so that anyone could see him if needed. However, he had to charge, not merely as part of professional responsibility or to ensure that he could pay his rent.

Using that power, invoking that therapy, took its toll on him. After all, memories never truly disappeared. What he took from his patients, he took onto himself, and then he had to carry every trauma with him in a little box in his mind.

The migraines were peanuts compared with that.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

Psychiatry posed a peculiar problem for preventative medicine. He encouraged everyone to speak to a mental health professional once every year, irrespective of what had happened in the previous twelve months. Just as society emphasized the importance of an annual physical exam, so too did the psychiatrist encourage everyone to have a mental health checkup. That way, if someone began to exhibit signs of psychiatric illness, they could get treated immediately, before a full-blown episode.

Beyond that, however, there was little that could be done.

Yes, the professional advised that people handle stress in healthy ways. That they communicate with their loved ones rather than create fissures in relationships from perceived apathy or inability to notice, to prevent resentment from building.

Beyond that, what could be done?

As a matter of principle, Sean supported social and governmental efforts that alleviated strain on individuals and which would minimize trauma. He opposed war so that there would be no PTSD in soldiers (and because he opposed war as a matter of principle and wished to spare lives at home and abroad). He supported comprehensive social programs to prevent misery among the population, and also to allow vulnerable people to leave abusive situations, such that finances need not be a reason that they felt they had to stay. He supported unions for workplace protections and to prevent exploitation. He supported abolition of laws regulating sexuality (except for age of consent laws, which he supported wholly to prevent exploitation of children and teenagers), so that gay men, lesbians, bisexual and transgender people did not have to worry about arrest or their families or lives being torn apart for seeking happiness.

Yet, with Reagan in the White House, and then Bush after him, his support did nothing. Instead, under Reagan, the law had made it even more difficult for those with diagnoses to receive the help they required. They were rendered homeless or viewed as criminals, and their problems snowballed until they spiraled out of control or otherwise those individuals were forced to drop off the grid completely.

Prevention almost always proved impossible. After all, he did not have precognition, and could not see what would happen before it occurred. Instead, all he could do was clean up the aftermath, wiping away the trauma so as to give his patients another chance to live their lives.

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Colleagues or friends asked him, if they saw him after a particularly difficult session. Nursing his head, sick to his stomach, sometimes too fatigued to move.

It was a valid question, one that he could not answer. He intended to keep it up until he no longer could, but whether that would be five years down the road or fifty, he could not say. After all, he wasn’t precognitive.

All he knew was that he had to keep at it, for as long as he could. He owed other people that much, because they needed him, and they were desperate, and he was the only one who could provide this therapy.

His head throbbed, as it always did after a difficult session. He nursed a cup of hot tea in one hand, pressing a cold compress to his head with his other. When he closed his eyes, he saw brief flashes of painful memories, the ones he had taken from his patient before she had left his office with a hole in her mind where the trauma had been, and a smile on her lips, now unburdened.

Seeing the pain turn to smiles kept him going, made it all worthwhile.

“Thank you, Doctor Neville.”