AU: Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard (Marnie)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This occurs in the same universe as "AU: My, Sean, you look young", although later in time.))


It had been days.

Nobody had any explanation for the situation, beyond the fact that Sean Neville had regressed to the tender age of twelve, to the age when he had first manifested. Fortunately, James Campbell had located him quickly enough, and they had contacted Vincent Romanov to recover his car and bring it to his home. James had driven him home, Chase had met them, and they had contacted Josh to come home as soon as he could.

In that time, Chase had helped him with his rudimentary shields, and, like riding a bicycle, some of it was easy to relearn. At the same time, the boy showed no sign of returning to his former self, a man a few months out from turning fifty-eight. His memory was spotty, and he wafted in and out of awareness of the present and his more recent past, and then complete confusion about the state of the current technology.

He recognized Josh, of course, for better or for worse. For better, because it underscored that, apparently, there was nothing in this universe that could make him forget his partner. For worse because he was twelve, and he still thought of Josh as his partner, a fifty-five year old man.

Of course, Josh had steadfastly refused to share their bedroom, instead returning to his long-abandoned designated bedroom for when he required privacy.

He had taken a day off work to try to help Sean readjust, and to hope that he would recover. Then the weekend had been upon them, but no such luck. Sunday, he had called Marnie to ask for a favor, specifically, if she would mind watching Sean, because he was presently incapable of watching himself. She had no Monday classes this term, and so she had agreed. Josh reminded her of their address, and, when she arrived, he gave her a few words of warning, left her a pile of cash to handle takeout or any entertainment that Sean might desire, and then left for court.

Left a twelve-year-old Sean alone with Marnie in the living room.

Someone who had been a protégé of his, someone who should be 1/3 his age but now he was 2/3 hers.

It was no more comfortable for him than it was for her, surely.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Every time Marnie thought Pilot Ridge couldn't get any weirder, the little town managed to prove her wrong.

The fact that it was Dr. Neville this had happened to just made the whole thing weirder. Like many students who had passed through Hammel's halls, Marnie's impression of the doctor was that of an unflappable, unchanging adult. When she pedaled her bike up their driveway, she half-expected to find the doctor merely shrunk down to miniature size. But according to Mr. Bernstein, they weren't dealing with anything quite that simple.

In her backpack, Marnie had loaded some DVDs and a couple of books she hoped would keep Dr. Neville occupied. She'd thought to try for a little of everything, but her library wasn't all that large or varied. There was the matter of his age, too - if he was twelve again, could he watch PG-13 movies?

Sean Neville, a licensed doctor and presenter of the yearly sex ed talk, too young to watch PG-13 movies. It would be laughable if it weren't so bizarre. So to be safe, Marnie had defaulted to a handful of Disney movies and hoped they wouldn't seem patronizing.

Now presented with her miraculously youthful landlord in his living room, however, Marnie wasn't sure where to start.

"Hi, doctor," she tried, twisting one strap of her backback in both hands, "um, do you remember me?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Once upon a time, Sean could have told stories about the unadulterated weirdness that permeated Pilot Ridge like the fogs of Scotland. On more than one occasion, he had considered writing a paper on the topic.

However, he was in no position to write a paper now. He couldn’t legally drink or smoke, he couldn’t enter into contracts, he couldn’t drive, and he couldn’t start up a relationship with another person. He couldn’t start up a relationship with his partner, which frustrated him, but he lacked the proper vocabulary to communicate it. Did the words even exist to describe that frustration, when one had gone from being fifty-seven to twelve?

Probably not.

He smiled shyly at the girl (young woman?) who had come to babysit him. Josh had explained to him over breakfast that he required a babysitter since he didn’t know how to work most of the electronic devices in their house, and it would make the attorney feel better. Their babysitter was their tenant, and named Marnie.

The young telepath knew all of that, but not from memories. Always honest as a child and a teenager, he shook his head in the negative. “No,” he admitted quietly. “But I know your name is Marnie.”

Marnie and she was a college student, and her thoughts were loud, which meant that she wasn’t psychic. He had learned all of that over the past few days.

[Marnie Sullivan]

Marnie looked up at him (even now he was taller than she was, although not the full head taller he had been), watching him shake his head, and she tried to smile as though she wasn't perturbed. So he'd forgotten. Not that she had ever been the most important person in his life, probably not even close, but the grown Dr. Neville was someone she looked up to, and who had looked out for her. Had that person vanished entirely? Would he ever come back?

Instead of voicing those thoughts - as though she needed to - Marnie nodded.

"Yes, it is," she replied gently. "I live here in town, and I went to Hammel." If he remembered anything besides his partner, hopefully Dr. Neville would remember the school that they both had attended in their own time.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean’s mental shields were only rudimentary, and they lacked the refinement of the ones he had trained for six years to erect, and subsequently spent four and a half decades maintaining. He could hear her curiosity and concern, and, most of all, he could hear her disappointment at being forgotten. “I’m sorry,” he told her quietly. Although he had grown used to apologizing these past few days (and he had spent half his time at Hammel apologizing, the first time around), he didn’t do so reflexively.

He regretted the pain he caused her, and he regretted his inability to do anything about it.

All he could do was watch her and listen as she explained that she lived in town and that she’d gone to the same school that James Campbell, Chase, and Josh all insisted he worked at, back when he had been fifty-seven rather than twelve.

“So you have powers,” he remarked, since Josh and James had both mentioned several times that Hammel was a school for meta-humans, rather than an elite private school.

“Do you live nearby?” Sean had yet to meet any of the neighbors along the cul-de-sac, although Josh assured him that everyone was friendly. He had vague flashes of parties, but he couldn’t place where and when.

[Marnie Sullivan]

The apology sat in Marnie's chest like a stone. Forgetting wasn't his fault. She was here to babysit, not feel sorry for herself.

"Babysit." He was taller than she was!

Marnie nodded; her camouflage wasn't in the same league as telepathy, but it had required training anyway. Graduating meant she had control now, but even without control the consequence of spontaneously changing color wasn't comparable to being bombarded by other people's thoughts.

"No, I live in a different neighborhood." Mister Bernstein's house wasn't close enough to their cul-de-sac to consider Marnie their neighbor. She'd been in the area before on runs, but not often.

"So, um." Unlike many girls her age, Marnie had no experience with babysitting. Intense awkwardness aside, Dr. Neville would surely be an easier charge than some stranger's bratty seven-year-old, but what exactly was she supposed to do. "Is there anything you want to do? I brought some movies, but if you can think of anything..." Maybe he and Mister Bernstein had a stash of board games somewhere.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Unbeknownst to Marnie, Sean had been self-conscious about his height as a young teenager, as it had been just one more thing that set him apart from everyone else. It had come to his aid in sixth grade, since he had been taller than the few bullies who went after the more introverted and soft-spoken boys. Yet, at Hammel, he had felt awkward and gangly, when he found himself taller than a couple of the teachers during his first semester, and, by graduation, he had been taller than all of his teachers, even Robert. He had grown comfortable with his size, just as he became comfortable with his powers, but being twelve again brought with it those feelings of awkwardness.

“Oh,” he said quietly, when she said that she wasn’t a neighbor. Briefly, he wondered why Josh had chosen her over other people, but then he heard Mr. Bernstein’s house which brought with it more questions than it answered. He could always ask Josh later; he didn’t want to put Marnie on the spot with too many questions.

The telepath didn’t hesitate when she asked what he wanted to do. He liked movies a lot, in fact, and he had several board games and decks of cards littered about, but those didn’t hold his interest at the moment. “Can we bake cookies?”

[Marnie Sullivan]

Baking cookies? Not the answer Marnie expected, but after a moment it made perfect sense. When she was still at Hammel, it wasn't uncommon for Dr. Neville to bring homebaked goodies to student activity council meetings. Maybe it was a stretch, just her hoping that the person she knew was still in there, but the answer felt familiar and comforting as a result. And besides, what kid didn't love cookies? 

"Cookies it is," Marnie replied with a decisive nod. Surely they could pull that off without burning the place down. She made it all of two strides to the nearest doorway before turning back to Sean: "Er, which way is your kitchen?" The house was huge and she had only been there once; she was as likely to lead them to the lakeside as she was their real destination on the first try.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Even as a boy, Sean had loved baked goods. He had baked with his grandparents and with his mother, before he had manifested his abilities. His psychic status hadn’t created his sweet tooth, merely legitimized it – providing him with an excuse to eat cookies or pie, because he required the additional glucose. That, in turn, had spurred him on to pay attention in home economics, so that he could learn to bake for himself and for other people. His notorious love of baked goods earned him preferred status at his local bakeries, earned him presents from friends and coworkers, and had even provided incentive for his partner to take lessons.

For his entire life, he had viewed baking and baked goods as a source of comfort, and he fell into that pattern now.

When she agreed, he smiled, both relieved and elated that they would get to go through the process of baking while also enjoying the fruits of their labor in the form of cookies when they finished.

Despite the fact that he waved in and out of awareness of himself, his past, and the present, Sean had been living here for the past few days, ever since his mysterious de-aging event. As a result, he knew the layout like the back of his hand, even without specific memories of moving in or living here for the past twenty-five years. As such, he gestured with his shoulder before he began to make his way towards the kitchen. “This way.”

Soon they arrived, and he crossed to the sink to wash his hands.

[Marnie Sullivan]

On her previous and only visit, the kitchen had been one of the two rooms where Marnie had spent most of her time. It wasn't quite the same without the counters and stovetop covered in bowls and pans and ingredients, but that would change pretty soon. While she waited her turn to wash her hands, Marnie remembered something else from that visit:

"Where do you keep your aprons?" she asked, peering around the room as if she might spot them herself. Marnie remembered the "gobbleicious" one she'd worn for Thanksgiving clearly; it wasn't in season anymore, but maybe Dr. Neville had more.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The kitchen had the same layout that it had over Thanksgiving, when they had done their meal preparation together. There remained counters galore and the island in the middle for additional cooking space. However, all of the pots, pans, and ingredients were in their proper places, since they weren’t expected to cook for a dozen people in anticipation of the biggest food holiday in American culture. They had all of the necessary staples for baking, each in their proper place, in the refrigerator, or in the pantry: all of the pans, the flour, the sugar, the baking powder, vegetable oil, eggs, butter...everything. Since Josh had learned to bake, they were a baking household; even before that, Sean had kept all of the staples in the house, since he baked, even if he had for so long failed to convince his partner that Josh could as well.

Sean scrubbed with the Black Cherry Merlot foaming soap, before rinsing his hands and drying them with the green dish towel. In response to the question, the young telepath nodded in the direction of a cabinet beneath the island. “They’re in there.” He didn’t point, because he had been lectured for years at Catholic school, and by his parents, about how rude that was.

He had several aprons, for several holidays, and then plainer ones or ones containing humorous sentiments. The telepath didn’t use them when he cooked much of the time, but he kept them all the same.