Resistance is futile (James)

[Amelia Blane]

”I’m going out.”

The current atmosphere in the Blane household was just about as bad as it was possible to get. In fact, Amelia couldn’t recall any time when more tension had been compressed inside the four walls of their home. Then again, her parents had never tried to ship her away to a school for misfits simply because she had survived a shooting before either. Not that they were going to succeed. Amelia Blane wasn’t going anywhere aside from her ballet class. Even so, she could see the worry in her mother’s eyes as she put down her bag at her side to tie her shoe laces.

“Honey, we’ve talked about this already, the recruiter from the Hammel Institute is coming by today, you need to be here so that we can talk about all of this.”

Amelia snorted, and kept getting dressed. Her movements were stiff and automatic, her whole body language conveying her feelings of hurt and betrayal. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not going anywhere and I don’t need any help. I just need to be left alone.” Throwing on her jacket she collected her things quickly so her mother wouldn’t have the time to voice any of the objections Amy knew where building up inside her. At least her father wasn’t home from work yet. He might actually have tried to physically keep her there.

“If anyone comes by you can tell them that they’re wasting their time. I’m not leaving.”

*********

Watson was sitting on the seat of her bicycle. His green eyes followed her lazily as she hurried across the yard and over to the garage. For once Amy was not in the mood for her cat’s theatrics as the grey tabby yawned demonstratively when she moved towards the bike. Shooing him away she grabbed the handle and was down the driveway in a matter of minutes.

Only when she reached the main road leading down to the town center did she allow herself to relax. Getting out of the house had been her way of showing that she wasn’t going to reform to her parents wishes like she usually did this time. She was simply continuing her life as if nothing had happened at all. Besides, that was the truth as well. Amelia couldn’t remember the exact seconds she had been standing in the dark alley way connecting her dance studio with the wider street of their local bank branch, but whatever it was that had enable her to “dodge” the bullets fired at her, there had to be a logical explanation to it. Sometimes bullets simply didn’t hit their targets. Sometimes the least likely option happened. It surprised her that her parents weren’t willing to see this as well, they were usually every bit as rational as she was. It made her worry that this rouse to get her to go off to the Hammel Institute had very little to do with her so called power, and a lot to do with her parents wanting to get her out of the way for a while.

That thought hurt a lot more than she had been willing to show so far. She had always felt completely sure that her parents loved her. She had been told several time of the trouble they had had with conceiving a child. The notion that they might not want her after all, struck her at her very core, but it was the only explanation for what was happening that she could find reasonable.

The memory of her father sitting down with her a few days after the incident and describing her in a way that made her sound like some sort of character pulled out from the “Matrix” movies was still so ridiculous that she couldn’t think about it with a straight face. Aside from that completely surreal situation, however, there had been very little to smile about in her life after the shooting that still had the whole town buzzing with excitement. Sighing she tried to push the dark thoughts away, and turned into the parking lot of her dance studio. Having her head filled with worries would do her no good. She had already made her opinion known; she was staying in Deerfield, regardless of what her parents might want.

*********

By the time the class had finished the brilliantly golden afternoon light from earlier that day had morphed into a grey twilight. Amelia couldn’t help but to feel that the whole world had transformed to match her own miserable mood. The dancing lesson hadn’t gone well. She had been unable to concentrate, and the more she tried to listen to the instructions her tutor gave her, the worse it had gotten. Finally she had been dismissed with the comment that she was thinking too much.

But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? She was supposed to listen to her tutor and she was supposed to think about what she did. That was the reason she taking lessons after all. So why was her skills deteriorating every time she did? It frustrated her so much that it even made her momentarily forget the reason she had been so intent on getting out of the house in the first place.

The second she stepped through the door, however, she got an unexpected reminder. There were two suitcases standing in the hallway. Dropping her bag Amelia stood frozen with her hand on the door handle, looking at them in confusion. Then her parents came into the hallway from the living room, and their expression made all other explanations unnecessary.

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere!” she snapped indignantly and felt a little ashamed as her mother flinched with obvious hurt at her angry tone. “We called the recruiter and told him you were running a little late. He will be here in a couple of minutes,” her father said, “I’m sure once you get a little more time to think about all of this you will realize that it isn’t all that bad. In fact you might even like the Hammel Institute if you just…”

She didn’t give him the time to finish. Treating her clueless parents to one last angry stare she passed them without another word and rushed up the stairs to her room. The sound of her door slamming shut was enough to make the windows rattle downstairs, but it didn’t elevate her mood at all. If her parents thought the only thing needed to get her out of there was packing her bags, then they were in for a surprise.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James hadn't been amused when Amelia's parents had called him, saying that the teenage girl was running late. Even if he hadn't had his power, it would have been far to easy to tell that they didn't know where their daughter was. Parents made excuses like that all the time, to save face for themselves and their children.

Even though he would almost certainly do it for Ginny, he wasn't thrilled with putting off his assignment.

He didn't even want to be there. It was a terrible idea for him to go out on a recruitment, just two days after his husband found out about what he'd done on a recruiting trip years earlier. But Midori was up in Maine and Willow was headed to Montana, and the rest of his recruiters were either out working, on a well-earned vacation, or seriously behind in paperwork.

Plus, he'd spoken to Amelia's parents on the phone from his office, and they'd sounded so much like his own parents just after his power had manifested: worried. (Of course, they hadn't known about the possibility of meta-human powers in their children, and had thought that he just had a particularly bad case of OCD. It was a pretty easy mistake to make, at the time.)

So he'd sadly told Chase that he absolutely had to go. And though they hadn't been arguing since that afternoon, and had again been talking about Niko and moving stuff around at their house, it still wasn't a very welcome idea. He knew that Chase still loved him, but...he didn't trust him. At least not as much. James could tell and it just hurt.

So having this girl blow him off wasn't doing anyone any favors.

At least she was there when he arrived at her house, though. Her parents let him in, haltingly informing him that their daughter had appeared to lock herself within her room. Typically, when his own teenage daughter did something like that, he would just wait her out. But he really couldn't afford that kind of time at the moment. James just wanted to go home.

Beckoning Amelia's mother to follow him, he knocked softly on the door she indicated. "Amelia? My name is James Campbell. You did something remarkable the other day, and I want to talk to you about it. Just talking, that's all this is. You can do something special, and it probably scares you. I know a lot about it, and can answer questions." And because her power wasn't something that could really harm anybody, "I promise, you're not going anywhere you don't want to today. Please just talk to me." Everything he said was in a calm, serious, but understanding voice. Even though he felt like a lousy person at the moment, James was a good father, and could be pretty convincing when he wanted to be.

[Amelia Blane]

Amelia was lying on her bed, staring a hole in the ceiling of the roof above her. She was doing her very best not to think of anything that was going on in her life at the moment, as if not focusing on it would somehow make it go away. Unfortunately she was failing miserably. Downstairs she could vaguely make out the sound of her mother moving about in that random manner she would always adopt when she was nervous. Her father was trying to calm her down, his voice a steady and low stream. That had always been his own way of feeling in control. As long as he had someone else to comfort he was calmer himself.

The doorbell rang and Amy felt her body tense up. A part of her hadn't actually thought anyone would bother to come if she just showed her disinterest strongly enough for long enough. Half-sitting up on her bed she glared at the door, daring anyone to try to come in. At the moment this was her fortress, and she had no plans of inviting her enemies inside. A part of her regretted having come home at all. Perhaps she should have stayed over with a friend. Deep down she knew that was only pushing the problem in front of her, however. If she wanted this to end she would have to face it head on.

By the sound of it she would have the chance to do that very soon, because her problem was currently walking up the stairs. She sat up fully and gave the still closed door the full weight of her stare. "Amelia? My name is James Campbell. You did something remarkable the other day, and I want to talk to you about it. Just talking, that's all this is. You can do something special, and it probably scares you. I know a lot about it, and can answer questions. I promise, you're not going anywhere you don't want to today. Please just talk to me."

Was this guy for real? Did he honestly think that the whole concerned and friendly tone of voice would impress her one little bit? On the other hand she felt slightly interested by the fact that he hadn't tried to actually get inside her room yet. Perhaps his powers didn't enable him to break down the door or somehow make the key turn? Well, then she wasn't going to help him. She had a stack of mars bars hidden away in her closet and if she really wanted to she could stay inside this room for a very long time.

Huffing she got up from her bed and walked over to her desk. She could talk to him she supposed, but that didn't have to involve opening the door. "I'm afraid you've been misinformed Mister Campbell," she said in a reasonable voice, "I haven't done anything remarkable at all. I was shot at. What's remarkable is that the man doing it missed. If you think that might be some special power your school would be interested in you can go take it up with him. As far as I know he's still at the local police station down town."

Flipping through her CD collection she finally found what she was looking for and loaded it into her stereo. A small part of her felt appalled at how she was acting, but the majority was cheering her on. She wasn't in the business of making Mister Campbell's life any easier after all. "I am sorry that you had to take the trip all the way out here, but whatever you've heard about me it's incorrect. I'm not a freak."

And with that she turned on the CD-player, letting the sound of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture fill the room. Perhaps not the normal way of instigating a teenage rebellion, but it was a pretty definite signal that she considered the conversation to be over. The only problem with her plan was that she had forgotten the fact that her father kept a spare key to her bedroom. He had never used it before, that had always been an unspoken agreement between them up until now, but apparently normal rules no longer applied.

Twirling around on her heels Amelia turned and stared at the three persons who were cramped together in the narrow hallway outside her door. Her father had that serious expression on his face that meant business, and she realized that he wasn't planning on letting her off the hook this time. "That will be quite enough Amy," he said, "you haven't been acting like yourself lately and you can't avoid this anymore. You're always complaining about head aches and lately you've been acting as if the whole world is out to get you. It's time you stop this nonsense and listen to what this man has to say."

His words caught her completely off guard, so much that her mother used the opportunity to place a gentle arm around her shoulder and usher her into the living room downstairs. She ended up sitting in between her parents, something that did nothing to sooth her already frayed nerves and she treated the Hammel official to the deadliest glare she could muster. James Campbell had just gone from being mild annoyance to enemy number one in her book.

[Dr. James Campbell]

When James had been recruited, he'd originally been pretty happy about the whole thing. First of all, he believed Aristea had a power the second she phased her hand through the bar and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the wood. But mostly it had just been comforting to know that his Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was stemming from something other than him just being crazy. Granted, he had grown up during a time when non-psychotic mental illnesses were treated with some sort of respect (though depression and post traumatic stress disorder weren't really understood, they were at least known) but it had still always made him different.

With proof of a meta-human ability, he was still different, but at least then he was special.

But that hadn't worked out particularly well for him, as going home to his wife to inform her that he had a super-power and was being recruited to a school in Vermont wasn't the kind of thing that resulted in a happy marriage. Neither was being abducted and forced to attend said school, after explicitly telling the recruiter that he couldn't go.

Obviously, James had some idea of where Amelia's hesitation to talk to him came from. That didn't mean that he had to like putting up with a teenage girl's theatrics, particularly when he should be at home, with Chase, getting ready for Niko to move in.

But he wasn't going to go back to Hammel without Amelia. He hadn't left a potential student behind yet.

James addressed the door calmly, effectively hiding his frustration from the girl's parents. "My information was not incorrect. However, you are right. You are not a freak. Neither am I."

It made sense to send people with powers to act as recruiters for the school. If parents didn't believe their kid could fly, or punch through stone, or move things with their mind, someone like Midori could transform into a puppy, or Willow could turn into her lizard form.

All James could do was analyze them. Sometimes it was just easier to say that he was psychic, and read their faces. (Like that guy does, on that show? The one he never watched, but Elena sometimes had on in the staff room.)

Thankfully, Amelia's parents seemed satisfied enough with his introduction of himself, and didn't really need him to prove that he had special perception. It was just so hard to do conclusively. Anyway, he ended up sitting across from the girl, sipping the water her mother had offered. (Honestly, he'd have preferred coffee, given the chance. He needed a good jolt of caffeine every once an a while.) He observed her carefully, noting everything he saw.

That glare....it just suddenly reminded James of Ginny, and he smiled.

"Like I said before, we are not freaks." At least, not because of their powers. James liked to paint miniature Lord of the Rings models and stage complex campaigns on his living room floor. But that was neither here nor there. "Meta-humanism is the result of a mutation in the genetic code. We're just the next step, similarly to how some people are now born without wisdom teeth." It was a bit simplistic to describe their abilities that way, but it was easy to understand, and he just needed her to keep listening.

"I saw the security tape. It wasn't that the man missed you; you moved out of the way. Most other people would have frozen on the spot, but you just looked at him and shifted. It wasn't super-speed, but it was something." James reached into his pocket and pulled out a device that looked not unlike a glucose meter a diabetic might use. "I can prove that you have this ability easily. Just a pinprick blood test. If it's negative, you won't have to listen to another word I say."

[Amelia Blane]

Seeing her mother fussing around the strange man, making sure he found a seat in the living room and offering him water, irritated Amelia immensely. She could tell that both of her parents were embarrassed by the way she was behaving, but for once this didn't impress her one little bit. So what if she was making this man's job unnecessary hard? She was not planning on altering her whole life just because some nutter had decided she was some sort of a super-woman. Deerfield was where her friends, her school and her life was. Up until she had gotten the letter from this so called Institute it had all worked perfectly as well.

Scanning Mr. Campbell surreptitiously, she wondered if he was as inhumanly patient as he appeared to be. If it had been her sitting on the other side of the coffee table she would have wanted to smack herself by now. Then again, if he did this on a daily basis he would probably have grown accustomed to the antics of teenagers long ago. Somehow that thought depressed her. The idea that hundreds of others like her were sitting in sofas across the world dead set on not leaving their home didn't feel the least bit comforting. On the other hand, a good deal of those people might actually be freaks and therefore end up exactly where they belonged.

"It's so nice of you to take the long trip out here to speak with our daughter," her mother said, obviously trying to break what could otherwise turn into an uncomfortable silence. Personally Amy believed they were far beyond the point were this visit could be salvaged as a friendly social call.

She knew her mother would put her arms around her shoulders seconds before the movement begun. She had grown up with the woman after all, and the signs were all too clear. Turning her head she shot her mother a warning stare. "Mum, don't. Okay?" Flinching her mother stopped her motion with an expression hurt enough to make Amy's resolve crumble somewhat.

In front of her Mr. Campbell was jabbering on in a failed attempt to make her think that meta-humans were not freaks. He could sugar coat it as much he wanted; people who could shot fire out of their eyeballs and similar "gifts" like that were still misfits by her estimation. Which reminded her that she still hadn't seen his special power yet.

Frowning she studied him. He didn't look like someone who would suddenly stand up and lift the couch off the ground with them still in it. Most likely no form of super-strength then. But his eyes were sharp and brown and kept alert at all times... Something mental perhaps? He could be one of those mind readers. Maybe he was inside her head right now, flickering through her memories like old family albums? That thought made chills run down her back, and she tried to hide her discomfort.

"I saw the security tape. It wasn't that the man missed you; you moved out of the way. Most other people would have frozen on the spot, but you just looked at him and shifted. It wasn't super-speed, but it was something."

Staring back at him mockingly she managed to smile. Right now her current strategy was to be so incredibly obnoxious that he would find whatever excuse he could to leave the house without her. "I looked at him and shifted? Of course I bloody well did! He was firing a gun at me for crying out loud! If most people aren't smart enough to move aside when someone fires a gun at them that's not my problem. But I hardly consider it to be a special gift." She could sense her father moving uncomfortably in the couch next to her, but he kept quiet.

"I can prove that you have this ability easily. Just a pinprick blood test. If it's negative, you won't have to listen to another word I say."

Staring at the object he had pulled out of his pocked Amelia bit her lip hesitantly. Every fiber of her being was screaming to her that taking this test would mean nothing good for her. But why would that be? This was her first chance to actually put a final stop to these preposterous allegations once and for all. Wasn't that what she had wanted?

Slowly and reluctantly she held out her hand for him, all the time keeping her attention on his face. "How do I know you won't forger the results? What can you do anyway?" She had hoped that would have come out sounding a little more mature, and mentally winced at how much she was sounding like a pouting five year old.

[Dr. James Campbell]

The man was long accustomed to the stalling antics of teenagers. Between the hundreds of young meta-humans he'd met over the past two decades and having a daughter not too much older than Amelia, he had gained his "inhuman" patience. That didn't mean he liked it when the recruits used these tactics--did they have to be so rude about it?--but he could outlast them. No matter how the girl across from him acted.

James watched her.

He didn't try to hide his interest, just quietly observed the teenage girl, waiting to see the crack, the thing he could use to convince her that what he was offering was really the best course of action for her. And she was going to end up at Hammel, whether she liked it or not. That's how they worked. First the letter, alerting them to the fact that someone was coming. Sometimes, that was all that was needed, and the kids were eager for training, and the parents properly supportive. Then came the visit from the recruiters. It was friendly the first time, urgent the second, and if it came to a third visit...well, most of the time, it didn't get that far. He didn't think the Blanes would put up too much of a fight, even if Amelia did.

Sipping from his water, he noticed how much she was studying him. Then a shudder, one she tried to hide. Someone else might have missed it, but not James, just like he hadn't missed the hurt in her mother's eyes when she correctly predicted her actions. Though Amelia did have experience with how her mother acted, that was timed a bit too perfectly. She wasn't precognitive then, since she would have known that whatever her mother was about to do wasn't going to happen. (James didn't point it out though, as the phrasing would be confusing, at best, and he'd decided to go with a simplistic approach, no overwhelming.)

"I looked at him and shifted? Of course I bloody well did! He was firing a gun at me for crying out loud! If most people aren't smart enough to move aside when someone fires a gun at them that's not my problem. But I hardly consider it to be a special gift."

Oh, great, sarcasm. James put down his glass and returned her smile, hopefully with a bit more sincerity than the one she gave him. "How did you know where to move? Amelia, you dodged bullets. I think you were able to predict the placement of them, and acted accordingly. I don't think it was a conscious thought; the adrenaline just made you move. I know people who have powers that work similarly. One of my colleagues could knock through brick walls if her adrenaline was pumping hard enough." That was a bit of an oversimplification, but he didn't think Clarisse would mind all that much.

James was used to suspicious questions like that. He gently took her hand and squeezed the tip of her ring finger, before using the little device to prick her. "I'll do a test on myself and your parents as well, if you want to see its reactions to others. And see?" He showed her the little screen on the meter, which had turned green a few seconds after he'd pricked her. "Green means you are a meta-human, Amelia. Just like I am. I have super-enhanced perception, which is a bit of an overblown way of saying that I see things differently from other people, and I am able to analyze people and situations very quickly and accurately." Again, oversimplification. He wasn't going to go into how he had very little control over his power, and the resulting OCD. Though he should mention... "Amelia, you have been having headaches lately, haven't you? And not normal ones; really bad migraines feel like your head has been ripped open?" He didn't get the migraines, but he'd nursed his husband though enough to know what they were like. He hated to think of anyone in that kind of pain, particularly kids. "Training with your power can help you with them. Sometimes, you'll still get them, but they won't be as bad, or as often. Hammel can help you."

[Amelia Blane]

She just wanted them all to go away. Right about now would have been the perfect moment to be left alone. Instead she had to fight not to flinch as the man across the table touched her hand, positioning it above her index finger. Before she had the chance to rethink her choice of accepting him testing her blood she felt the needle prick through her skin and it was too late.

Pulling her hand back as if he had burned her Amelia slumped down in the couch trying to pin point the exact place where it had all gone wrong. If only that stupid cop had known to keep his mouth shut her parents would never have heard a thing except for the fact that she had survived a shooting. If only their family had been a little less rational and a little more religious and she could have blamed it all on divine interference.

The voice she had begun to hate piped up again and she resurfaced from her thoughts to see the Hammel guy holding up his little toy as if it was to sort this mess out single-handed. A small light on it had lit up in a green color. Apparently that was affirmative on the question of her freak nature. "Getting my parents tested wouldn't help the least, seeing as it is quite clear that you have all ganged up on me," she said, surprising even herself at how resigned her voice sounded.

As James Campbell went on to describe his own special ability Amy did her best not to scream out loud. "Listen," she said as he came up for air, "I'm fine with you having x-ray vision or what ever," Well, upon closer inspection she wasn't fine with that at all "but is it really necessary to involve me in it? Even if I did have some sort of ability I don't see why I would have to deal with it by going to your school. You probably don't remember this, being ancient already, but being young is no fun. I've got my friends here, my dance class and my school. If the only thing my power makes me do is dodge bullets then can't I stay here?"

Okay, so maybe she was trying to manipulate him. But she was fairly certain that that was what he was doing as well, and he had allied up with her parents achieve. They were all in this together. She on the other hand was all alone in this, and if she had to lie and pretend that she bought his crap about being a meta-whatever she would do it. Considering how horribly she had treated him since he arrived he should be jumping at the opportunity to get rid of her.

And then the question came. The question that ruined everything.

"...you've been getting headaches recently, haven't you?"

Glaring at her father at the same time as he opened his mouth to reply with such intensity that he was left soundlessly with his mouth flapping open, Amy turned back looked at James coldly. "You know what helps against headaches? An aspirin. No need to move across state lines to deal with it."

Sighing her father shook his head. It sounded like balloon deflating. "Yes, she has been having migraines," he said, and no amount of staring from Amy seemed to shut him up. "And even though they're so bad I've seen nothing like it and we have no history of the disease in our family, it's not the only thing that has been happening."

She couldn't believe this was actually taking place. She couldn't believe he would just talk about her in front of a stranger like this, and against her will she felt her eyes fill with unshed tears.

"For the last couple of months Amelia has been acting strangely. One day she didn't go to school at all, because she couldn't decide on what to wear and that's just an example. If you knew our daughter Mr. Campbell, you'd know it's not normal behavior for her. Lately she has been getting worse as well. Everything we do translates into something sinister, that we're trying to manipulate her or trick her into doing something."

He paused, and Amy looked at him trying to keep her breathing even. It was almost impossible seeing as her heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of her body. "In fact, we were worried she might be having a mental breakdown before the shooting happened."

Jumping to her feet without even thinking Amy looked at her parents in outrage. "How... how can you say something like that?" she asked. Her father looked at her sadly, but she didn't let the gesture fool her, and when he reached out for her she slipped under his open arms twisting so that he couldn't reach her. So that none of them could reach her. He tried to stop her, quickly altering his motion, trying to place a hand on his shoulder, but once again she moved out reach of the grip.

"I... I can't believe you're doing this to me!" she exclaimed, "you really do want me out of your lives, don't you!"

[Dr. James Campbell]

X-Ray vision? Well, at least that was a new one. People rarely understood what his power did, so he had heard all sorts of crazy ideas about what super-enhanced perception actually entailed. He didn't mind, really, but he also didn't want the girl to think that he was a creepy old man who was attempting to see through her shirt. (He'd felt sleezy enough for one week thank you very much.) He managed a sort of weak smile in response to that, showing that he had a similar distaste for that kind of power. "That's not at all what I do, really."

Of course, her rant about why she wanted to stay there made a lot of sense. He'd wanted to go to Hammel because he was relieved to find out that everything that was so wrong about him stemmed from something other than him just being a freak. For this girl, however, she had plenty of reasons to like her life as it was and want to stay in it, instead of being whisked away to a school for freaks. "Because if you don't start training, you will never be able to control it. You said you take dance; how much practice does it take before you have a routine down cold? Your power, whatever it is--and we can figure that out, too--needs training. Something happened that you didn't understand, but it's okay."

And even though Amelia tried to play off her migraines, of course her father stepped in. James wasn't surprised. When he introduces himself as "Dr. James Campbell" he usually doesn't feel the need to include that the Dr. was for studying English Literature. People assumed he was a medical doctor, and he could live with that misconception if necessary. Really, it just made people trust him, particularly when it came down to the side-effects. James nodded as he explained about them. "Migraines are a very common side-effect to mental powers. The extra strain from using the powers causes them, but it is possible to train the brain so it causes less strain."

But the other side-effects gave him pause. They weren't uncommon, but this combination of migraines, paranoia, and indecision--along with what she actually did during that shooting--indicated that she probably had one particular power. He nodded, and was about to reply, when Amelia had her outburst, and her reaction time to her father's movements proved it.

James stood slowly, trying not to be intimidating. Yes, it made sense that she was mad at her parents. After all, she felt betrayed by them. He on the other hand, had offered no betrayal, since she had known from the start exactly what he was there for. He offered no surprises. "Amelia. You just did it again." His tone was calm, soft, and oh-so-reasonable. "You moved away from your father faster than you should have been able to. You predicted what he was going to do and acted accordingly. I think your ability has something to do with calculating the chances of something happening. Your reaction time is astounding. And your parents don't want to get rid of you. They want what's best for you, and your health. The migraines are manageable, as is the paranoia. We can help you."

[Amelia Blane]

Amy couldn't quite hide the guilty expression on her face as Dr. Campbell pointed out (in an extremely calm and totally unfairly reasonable tone of voice), that she had yet again done something she should not have been able to do if she was as normal as she claimed to be. Somehow his behavior and words felt like having her head plunged into a bucket filled with ice water, and she felt fairly confident that it was just as unpleasant.

She hadn't even needed to hear the recruiter actually call her 'paranoid' to know that that was exactly what she must look like to everyone else in the room. Seeing her parents sad and tired faces would by far have been enough. Breathing heavily a couple of times she ran her fingers through her dark hair, automatically making sure that no stray lock fell into her face or was out of place.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, without meeting her parents eyes. "I guess I'm acting like a five year old." Saying that was a lot harder than it should be. Then again, Amelia had never liked being treated like a child. Which made realizing that she was acting like one even worse.

"Mum and dad, could you excuse us for a moment? I would like to speak to Mr. Campbell alone."

Despite the fact that her tone of voice was down by a good couple of decibels she could still see the hesitation in her parents faces. What did they think she would do if they left her alone? Jump out of a window or something? In the end both of them went into the kitchen, however.

When she heard the sound of the door snapping shut Amelia went back to the couch and sat down. "Can you really make the migraines better?" she asked defeatedly. She hadn't given up; she was still clinging to the conviction that there had to be some terrible cosmic mistake somewhere that had lead to this man knocking on her door. Possibly there was another Amelia Blane out there, burning down houses with her x-ray visions or flying through the air like a bird. But if this so-called school of theirs could take away the throbbing head aches that had seemed to be getting all the more frequent over the last couple of weeks, then she was willing to give it a try.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James frowned slightly. It was good that Amelia realized that she was being irrational, but he didn't want her to feel ashamed. Any sense of shame when it came to dealing with newly-manifested powers was dangerous, because all too often it became the students being ashamed of their abilities. "It's a lot to deal with, Amelia. I understand, trust me." And he did. He'd hated his ability and his recruiter in equal shares. But he had learned to adjust to this new way of life, and frankly, it had given him just about everything he could ever imagine wanting. A family, a great job, and a chance to help other people. "And you are actually handling it better than some of the people I have recruited. I once had my tie set on fire, and I'm not so sure how much of it was an accident." He was trying to be light, humorous. Anything to get the girl to simply trust him.

And perhaps it had worked, as she sent her parents out of the room. Maybe he was getting though to her. He nodded at her parents, hoping that they would also trust him enough to go. If she needed to talk to him directly, he was going to listen. Sometimes, that was all that was needed.

Her question was straightforward enough, and she sounded resigned. He knew that she would be on the plane to Vermont with him, probably by the next day. "I'm not a powers trainer, and I don't get the migraines. But I am married to one who does. And he's told me that he used to not be able to get out of bed in the morning, because they were so bad. Now he only gets them sometimes, and they're just annoying. They don't kill him like they used to. And I have seen so many students come in, and the training works wonders on the side effects." He smiled at her, not broadly, but more conspiratorially, like he was letting her in on some big secret.

"There are more like us. People like you and I, who just see the world a little differently. And a lot of them live, study, and work at Hammel. I want you to remember that you're not alone in this, Amelia." And she wasn't. Of all the places in the world for people who felt ostracized, Hammel was the best one to be.

[Amelia Blane]

She couldn't quite muffle a snicker as the man in front of her mentioned having his tie set on fire. It might not have been for the reasons he would have wanted, seeing as she was fairly confident she would have given pyromania a chance if she had been able to as well. The idea of seeing the collected and calm Mr. Campbell running around batting at the smoking fabric of his tie brightened her mood by a surprising degree.

As he continued to talk she sobered up a little bit, however, as she realized the seriousness of the situation. Hearing that he was married to a man surprised her a quite bit, seeing as he didn't exactly fit the stereotypes of what she imagined a gay man to be like. Then again, she hadn't really met anyone who were open before either, although she knew a couple of kids at school who were rumored to be less than straight. Perhaps it would have gotten a bigger reaction out of her if it hadn't been for the fact that she was currently more concerned with finding out the details of what she was agreeing to, then who this stranger chose to live with.

She disliked the way he included her into his extended 'us' as if the two of them shared something that set them apart from other people. Amy had never wanted to be different. Sure, she relished the attention her talent in dancing gave her, but that was different. That was still within the realm of normalness and therefor acceptable. She doubted anyone would ever admire people's ability to walk through walls or read their minds. They would just be freaked out.

When his stream of praise for the Institute he wanted to take her to ran out an awkward tension remained. Every word he used to convince her that going to Vermont was a good idea, had the opposite effect. She didn't want to be apart of a larger group, and if it was her choice, she would be alone in all of this with no one else suspecting that she was different in the slightest way.

"Listen," she finally said, trying to think of a way to phrase her thoughts into a way that wouldn't have him trying to convince her to change her opinion while at the same time stating it, "if I do go to this Institute, it won't be so that I can find new friends or family. I get that it's an important place for you, but I don't need that." She paused, and looked at him seriously, wondering if he would argue with her. Perhaps mentioning that she still didn't believe what he had told her about her powers wasn't the best of ideas at the moment.

"I'll come along with you, but it will only be to learn how to handle the head aches and if it does turn out that I do have some sort of ability, then I suppose I'd be willing to learn how to use that as well."

That way she'd know how not to use it.

[Dr. James Campbell]

With a grin and a shrug, he let the girl snicker. The tie incident was directly tied to his recruiting a young and rather volatile pyrokinetic. The girl had one hell of a temper, and had taken it out on him. (And it was a shame, as he had really liked the tie. When Chase had heard the story, however, he had only said "good", rather smugly.)

When he was on recruiting trips, James was usually very discrete. He didn't want parents to worry about the man who was taking their kids away, after all. But he never lied about who he was married to, and he didn't try to hide it either. He was not ashamed of who he was in love with.

Extending the term "us" to new recruits was standard operating procedure for him, and everyone who worked for him. Part of the draw of Hammel was that it offered community. Of course, most students didn't need to be convinced that they had a special ability at all. It was the only the ones who had heightened senses, it seemed, that had a hard time believing it. People like him. And like Amelia, apparently.

As much as he usually liked his job, and despite her being a lot more calm and reasonable than many of the others he'd recruited, he just wanted her to see things his way so he could go back home and make things up with Chase. Yes, it was self-centered, but he needed to be back home. If he could help it, this would not be a drawn-out process.

As she spoke, his calm, collected facade seemed to slip, but just a bit. When Aristea had recruited him, he'd been delighted at first. Then Lucy had put the damper on that one. He'd had friends, and a family, and still ended up at Hammel. And it had taken him years to get over that resentment. "It is important to me. But I understand that." When she did go to Hammel--yes, it was "when" and not "if" in his mind--she would almost certainly find someone with whom she'd make some kind of connection. It was inevitable.

It was nearly impossible to completely isolate yourself at Hammel. He knew it. He'd tried it.

Her ultimatum seemed a bit hesitant, but James was going to take what he what he was offered. "I can live with that, Amelia. And you will learn how to control them."

[Amelia Blane]

Now that she had finally, no matter how unwillingly, given her consent to go where he asked her to follow, Amelia felt like the air had been let out of her body. She wondered if her parents had been listening in on the conversation from the kitchen, and if they were celebrating her coming departure right at that very moment. The wounded feeling she had felt earlier that week at the realization that they actually wanted her to leave was slowly morphing into something else as she kept a vary eye sitting opposite of her. It turned into a steel cold bitterness, tinged with anger.

If it hadn't been for that stupid short cut she had chosen to take back home, no one would have even thought about shipping her off to Vermont. If it hadn't been for the fact that her mother and father now believed that she wasn't entirely normal they would have still wanted her around. And if it hadn't been for this freak Institute they would have kept her home and she could have convinced them that there was nothing wrong with her.

The thought of actually going through with leaving Deerfield had never seemed more real, and never been more realistic. It scared her though she wouldn't have admitted it for anything in the world. Little inconsequential things kept registering in her mind, like the fact that she and her friend Jessica had been planning to celebrate their upcoming birthday together. Now she'd be miles away by that date, probably having her birthday cake levitated into the room by someone she never would have chosen to associate with if she had been given any sort of choice.

And there was the dance performance she was supposed to participate in next weekend...

"Do they teach dance in Vermont?"

The question was out of her mouth before she had even consciously decided to speak. Even though she was firmly decided that she wouldn't stay longer than a week or two at the school Mr. Campbell represented doubt had already sneaked inside her and she couldn't imagine spending years at a place where she couldn't practice what she loved doing more than anything else in the world.

"And... When would I need to go? I mean, is it like an official date when you accept students?"

She still clung to a language that made it sound as if leaving was a hypothetical possibility rather than a steadily more certain future. She knew she would keep on talking like that until she found herself sitting on the air plane that would take her away. Perhaps even longer.