AN: Thanks everyone! And yes I realise that her abilities make it easier for me as a writer! I'm just writing it - if she knows what the caller on the other end is saying via the thoughts of the callee nearby... well I can't help that. Hehe. Now I'm up to the gap between sections so I'll have to write some NEW material. I haven't written any of this fic in years! It's exciting! I'll need all the encouragement I can get. Once the gap part is written then I'll be showing you bits that almost NO-ONE has ever read! Oh, and I'm Australian which is why The Centre is spelt that way (etc). I know they're in the US and therefore spell it Center but it's my fic and I'll spell things THE RIGHT WAY hehe if I want to... Thank you everyone for the support and I'll do my best to get the next bit written soonish.
As the days went on, things settled into a pattern, not quite back to the way it had been - that was simply not possible - but quite smooth considering all that had changed. Miss Parker had come to realise - and even appreciate - that any work she gave me to do would be done in an instant, so she allowed me the freedom to do pretty much whatever I wanted with the rest of my time.
A number of hours per day were spent exercising and developing my abilities, either with Sydney or alone. I spent quality time with Angelo or hanging out with Broots helping him with his work. Broots in return helped me to access The Centre's computer mainframe to search for some of the answers and other information I was seeking.
The rest of the time I wandered The Centre's multitude of corridors, on pretext of some errand or other, keeping my senses peeled for any secrets that might filter through the general noise.
It wasn't until a number of days had passed since Angelo had given me the DSA that I was able to view what was on it. Broots and I were alone - Miss Parker and Sydney were elsewhere doing whatever it was they did when they weren't in the office. Miss Parker was attending one of the never ending process of meetings that executives have to deal with and Sydney was off doing some sort of research and conducting his psychological studies.
I sat at Broots' workstation while he stood next to me and prepared to insert the silvery disk into a slot. He asked if I needed him to keep watch at the door to make sure that our activities remained private.
"Thanks anyway, Broots, but I can handle the lookout duties from here." I stretched out my perceptions so that if anyone came anywhere near the entry I would be instantly warned. It was a skill that Sydney had helped me to refine.
"Would you rather watch this by yourself?" He asked.
I thought about it for a moment and realised that not only did I not mind if Broots saw whatever was on the disk but also that I actually wanted him to see it with me. This surprised and confused me since I didn't know what, if any, secrets the DSA contained but I did know that I wanted to share them with Broots. For some reason, I wanted to have no secrets from him. And having him with me would bring me comfort if it turned out to be distressing.
"I'd like you to stay." I said simply.
He smiled and pulled another chair across to sit beside me. Without saying anything more he took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly as he activated the DSA.
I contemplated the feel of his hand holding mine and I remembered the kiss we had shared a few days ago. Neither of us had spoken of it and I had returned to my own tiny apartment after my weekend in the Broots household. I found that I had missed his warmth and his presence at night.
The screen lit up with the information from the DSA and I turned my attention to what I was about to see.
Jarod, aged in his late teens or early twenties, enters Sydney's office. To Jarod's obvious dismay he finds Sydney sitting at his desk with his head resting in his shaking hands. Sydney's shirt has blood on it.
"Sydney!" cries Jarod. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
Sydney quickly composes himself - or tries to - as soon as he realises that his young charge is in the room.
"I'm fine, Jarod." He says but obviously is still very upset.
"But, Sydney, there's blood on you! What happened?" Jarod's voice shakes with concern and worry.
"A young girl was attacked. Dr Raines and I only just managed to save her life." His professional manner slips and he moans. "Oh god, Jarod, it was horrible. She had been sexually assaulted as well as physically. She lost so much blood."
Jarod's face pales. "Who could do such a terrible thing?"
"I don't know, Jarod, but Mr Parker swore to me that he would find out who was responsible for this atrocity and bring them to justice."
"I want to do something to help, Sydney, maybe I could perform a sim to find out who did this." Jarod's voice is shaking in outrage. "They must be punished, Sydney!"
Sydney watches Jarod as he struggles against the rage of emotions welling up inside him.
"I want to do something to help her." The young man continues. "I want to see her - to talk to her. I have to help her."
Sydney's face reflects a carefully hidden pride but he says "The girl isn't up to seeing anyone right now and as soon as she is well enough to leave the infirmary, Mr Parker has arranged for her to be released from The Centre. However, your concern is very admirable, Jarod."
"You'll help her get through this, won't you Sydney? You can counsel her."
"There isn't that much time before she leaves, Jarod. These things take a lot of time."
"Promise me, you'll help her!" Jarod demands.
"I'll do whatever I can, Jarod."
"You have to help her." The young man's face is filled with anguish and sorrow.
The DSA recording ended and I sat there feeling numb for a while. Then it hit me - Jarod cared about me. He didn't even know me but he had cared about what had been done to me and he had wanted to make sure I would be okay. This is what I had been seeking when I had taken Jarod's notebooks into my hands that last night at Broots' house, after that terrible nightmare. Just some small piece of evidence that would indicate that Jarod would care about me.
I dissolved into tears, not of sorrow but of relief. Soon Broots' arms were around me, and he was comforting me with soothing words.
Later I also contemplated the visions generated by Jarod's notebooks. The set of visions from my first encounter were all relating to my desire at that point to know what Jarod was like, what his life was like. The visions seemed to give me the answers to what I needed to know. How did this correlate with my second encounter, however? After the terrible dream, all I had wanted was to know whether, if he knew me, would Jarod care about me? Yet the visions from the notebooks at that point had also been about Jarod's desire for family, and about babies, and I remembered that the dream was also about the baby The Centre had planned for us. Why? The child had never existed.
However, this child who had never existed - except in the scheming minds of Centre minions - had certainly been on my mind a lot since I had confided in Sydney about those nefarious plans. The fact that it had figured so dramatically in my recent nightmares as well as the notebook visions should mean something. But what? I should probably talk to Sydney about it I decided. After all, psychiatrists loved interpreting dreams - why not visions as well?
As soon as Sydney returned to the office I spoke to him about it. However, he did not have much of an answer for me. He simply thought for a moment and mused. "With a little bit of practice I'm sure you could refine your skills and be able to extract the exact information you required from a source as you do from Jarod's notebooks."
He was only thinking of our work and possible future projects. Which was fine except that I needed answers.
"But what about the dream, Sydney? And why did my latest notebook visions turn in a similar direction?"
"You mean that both involved Jarod and a baby. Well, I agree that there has to be some reason. Perhaps on a subconscious level you really wanted that child."
"I guess in a way I did but that was only a futile - and foolish - fantasy. One that required The Centre to be non-existent."
"Perhaps the dream and your visions are simply a way of discovering if Jarod would have shared your fantasy - if you and he had met and escaped years ago - if things had been different. In a way this is similar to you needing to know whether he would have cared about what happened to you all those years ago."
I nodded. "You are probably right, Sydney. That must be it. I guess I've buried a lot of Centre-related issues during my time on the 'outside'."
"And it's only natural that they would surface now you're back." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Have you given any more thought to talking about these things in depth? In a professional sense?"
"I like things fine the way they are now, Sydney. Talking to you as a friend, getting your opinion when I need it is great but I really don't think having formal sessions with you is necessary. Thanks anyway."
As I walked away, he wanted to say more but didn't. Concern emanated from him in waves quite strongly but I dismissed it. After all, I didn't need therapy, did I?
However, later that afternoon, I discovered that his concern was even deeper than I had realised. I was walking back to the office after taking some information to Miss Parker who was in a meeting in the Tower when I saw two figures huddled in one of The Centre's many dark corners where many a private conversation was held. Conversations often involving secrets, lies, and death.
As I approached them I realised that it was Sydney and Broots. They were talking about me. I had no need to secrete myself behind a column to eavesdrop - instead I took a different way back to the office and monitored them from there by way of my powers.
"I'm concerned about Melinda." Sydney was saying.
"In what way?" asked Broots, sounding defensive.
"She won't accept any counselling from me. I would recommend another psychologist, however, given the situation who else can she talk to but me?"
"She can talk to me."
"That's all very well, Broots - and it is a start - but she really does need professional help to deal with everything."
"She seems pretty together to me." replied Broots loyally. "Especially after everything she's gone through."
"It seems that way, yes. However, she has buried a lot of her pain very deeply and when that bubbles to the surface, for example after the incident in the carpark, things could get rather... dangerous."
"What do you mean?"
"If I hadn't been able to give her that sedative, I believe it to be very likely that she would not have survived."
"Oh my god." whispered Broots in horror.
"Now you see why I'm concerned."
"What do you want me to do?" Broots asked.
"All I ask, Broots, is that you try to help me persuade her to talk to me - to get the help she needs."
"I'll try, Sydney - but I really don't think she'll go for it."
"I know it will be difficult but, since we care about her, what choice do we have but to try?"
I pulled my awareness away from their conversation. Were things really that serious? I felt fine - well, as fine as one could be within the darkness of The Centre. Certainly I felt some stress, some pressure, but who didn't? Even the outside world was not free from these things.
Sure, I had lost control that day but the incident in the carpark that had triggered my reaction had been extreme and then it was compounded by Sydney's recognition of me as a child of The Centre. It's not like events would conspire again in such a way to unhinge me. However, this was The Centre which seemed to exist in its own weird little world - who knew what bizarre happenings could occur here from day to day? Was I really as prepared as I had thought to cope with anything thrown my way?
And what if there was a next time? And what if this time I did not only lose control of my emotions, of myself, but also my powers? And what if I hurt someone I cared about?
I shook off these dark thoughts as someone entered the room. It was Broots and he approached me apprehensively trying to figure out what to say.
"Hey." That was all he could come up with as an opener.
"Hey." I replied.
"How's everything going?"
"Not bad. Got all Miss Parker's work done so I'm going to visit Angelo soon."
"You know," he said suddenly, awkwardly because it was so deliberately offhand, "I sometimes have sessions with Sydney, to talk things over, work stuff out. He's very good - and the best thing is that no matter how weird the stuff is that I tell him, he never treats me strangely once we get back to work, you know?"
"What are you trying to say, Broots?" I asked quietly.
He swallowed nervously and then plowed on. "I'm just saying that maybe talking with Sydney would help you too. Especially with your nightmares and all. I mean, it couldn't hurt, could it?"
"Actually it could, Broots, it could hurt a lot." I sighed and held up a hand to cut him off as he started to speak again - to continue trying to convince me. "However, I suppose if you think I should give it a go, then I will."
I could justify it all I wanted with 'if it means that much to them' but deep down I knew that it was about time I confronted a lot of things instead of ignoring them. Besides, Sydney owed me a few counselling sessions and he knew it.
Even so, I wasn't entirely convinced of the necessity of all this bother, so when I went to visit Angelo, I asked him to judge my state of mind and whether it was so important for me to see Sydney professionally.
Angelo looked thoughtful for a moment as he took my hands in his. I could feel his gentle probing on my consciousness. It would have been an unpleasant feeling if it hadn't been Angelo doing it. Finally he spoke in his strange child-like voice.
"Sydney can help Melinda."
I sensed for a moment that he was going to call me Millie but remembered that - although our circumstances were different - I was no longer Millie just as he was no longer Timmy.
"I know a bit of therapy could probably do something to help me but is it as necessary as he seems to think?" I asked Angelo.
He was unable to form his feelings into words. As I watched Angelo struggle to communicate I immediately cursed Raines. For all that he had once saved my life he had still destroyed Angelo's. Instead, Angelo communicated with me through impressions he sent to my mind. I got the general gist.
Basically, Angelo was of the opinion that Sydney felt that he needed to make up for what he had not done for me in the past. However, the thing that hit me like a blow to the stomach was Angelo's impression of my psyche - something that I obviously could not accurately read for myself. Physical and emotional tied together and surrounded by the bright glow of my powers - that much was normal. What I had never seen before were the cracks and fissures of darkness that crept over and through like ugly black spiderwebs. That and the pressure mounting on all sides.
I sat in silence - in shock. I may as well be a walking timebomb. Who knows what would happen to me if it went off? Would I become like Angelo? Or a comatose vegetable? Or would it just kill me?
Angelo broke through my shock by speaking again more firmly. "Melinda hurt. Sydney can help."
I nodded. "You're right, Angelo. I promise I'll go talk to him right now." I hugged Angelo and he smiled which was something he did rarely.
When I returned to the office, Miss Parker and Sydney were already there. They were talking with Broots about the usual routine Jarod stuff. They all looked up and knew immediately from my face that there was something serious going on.
No-one said anything as I just walked into Sydney's office. After a moment he silently joined me shutting the door behind him. We both sat down at his desk. The ball was in my court because there was no way he was going to risk this by saying anything.
I told him quickly about what Angelo had shown me.
"Can you show me?" asked Sydney.
I quickly formed the impression in my mind - horrible cracks and all - and projected it to him. He closed his eyes to better study the mental image.
Without opening his eyes he said. "Now show me what it should look like."
I altered the image until there were no cracks showing. The glow brightened as I did this and I wished fervently that I could fix it as easily on the real thing.
"Fascinating." He never seemed to tire of this word. His intellectual mind was intrigued by everything new that I showed him I could do but he shrugged this off and concentrated on what the image meant. His concern was apparent in his eyes.
"I'm scared, Sydney."
"Everything is going to be alright. It'll take time but together you and I will fix this."
"I wish I could be as confident as you about that."
He was silent for a moment. "You know, it wouldn't surprise me if all my patients had similar damage to their psyches."
"Really? As severe as mine seems to be?"
"More so in some cases I'd think. Especially those with extreme psychological disorders." He smiled at me. "Its not as if you're displaying signs of anything like that."
"Thank god." I laughed. That made me feel a little better - more normal somehow. I guess I had been worried that the darkness threatening to overtake my psyche was more severe because of my powers of which in some ways I knew so little. Now it seemed more like I was just like anyone else who had lived through traumatic circumstances - the difference was I would know when I had healed a little. And healing was something I couldn't put off any longer.
Sydney, however, was contemplating all the uses this new skill of mine had. He was thinking about how I could show him what a schizophrenic's psyche looked like and things like that.
"We'll discuss that later, Sydney, I promise."
He jumped slightly. He still wasn't quite used to me answering unspoken thoughts. "Of course. Why don't we start by talking about your time in The Centre as a child. The things you left out before."
I took a deep breath. I was worried that reliving these events would trigger off the timebomb that I felt I was carrying around in my head. I steeled myself and was relieved as a cold calmness enveloped me. In this almost detached state I would get through this but what of Sydney? He had been at The Centre for a very long time, had seen and heard about a lot of horrible things in his time - but I wasn't so sure he could handle everything I had to share with him.
Coldly, I thought - He owes me - and proceeded to tell him everything he wanted to know.