This story was inspired when I read The Lurker’s story “Silent voices” I have asked and been given permission.

Rating: R, some angst, abuse and swearing. Season 4 Finale, but not necessarily. Sydney’s little secret, why he stopped using his Inner Sense

Silencing the voices

by Giton

The Centre, Sydney's office

Sydney sat alone in his office. The lights were off, bar the small lamp on his desk and all through the building it was quiet. It was past his time to go home, but somehow he felt comforted by the silence in his office.

He sighed deeply. He knew that soon Ms Parker would come to him and ask him the same question her mother had asked him all those years ago, when she couldn’t control her Inner Sense anymore, “Will you help me to control it?” And as he had done all those years ago for the mother so he would do it for the daughter. Hopefully this time it wouldn’t end so drastically.

He had been telling himself over the years that it hadn’t been his fault that she died and in his heart he knew it to be true, but still the voices, or maybe his own guilt of surviving, accused him.

Could he have prevented it? He wasn’t sure. Could he have seen it coming if he had left his Inner Sense open to the full brunt of emotions, feelings and thoughts of others? Could he have stopped the events as they were unfolding? Could he have stopped Jacob and Catherine feeling or caring for the children?

He shook his head wearily. It was no use torturing himself with incriminations. He couldn’t afford to have these thoughts running around in his mind once he started helping Ms Parker control her Inner Sense. It could damage her.

Would any of them have understood why he tried to repress it as much as possible? Look what it had done to the others. They were dead now and he was still alive. A derisive laugh escaped his lips. Alive! Yes, but what price did he have to pay for his own mortal soul? He had tried to warn them first, to help them and then he watched them all die.

He threw his head into the backrest and kneaded his eyes shut, refusing to let the tears flow. She would need his strength, not his weakness! If he let the voices in, soothing him and at the same time accusing him with their love, he would be no good to Ms Parker. He couldn’t stand loosing her as well and have her voice added to the number that was already in his head.

Could, or should he ever explain why he tried to shut up his Inner Sense? He thought back to when he made that decision…

St Vincent de Paul Hospital, January 1964

He had not given up voluntary work when he started working at the Centre. Twice a week he took himself over to the Hospital in Blue Cove to offer his services as a psychiatrist in the children’s wing. The hospital didn’t have a resident psychiatrist yet but they did have little patients with mental problems. Sydney wasn’t the only volunteer, but they were more than happy to have a doctor like Sydney help them out with the more problematic cases, which Sydney was more than happy to provide for them.

Today had been a “quiet” day and Sydney took this opportunity to visit some of his little patients. Most of the ones he had treated in the children’s ward had been victims of abuse. Although being a psychiatrist and having seen the atrocities in Dachau, he couldn’t understand how people could go out of their way to abuse a child in such a way that hospitalisation was needed.

It was a minor comfort to know that some of them could lead happy lives after his consultations and let them share the warmth of his Inner Sense.

When he walked onto the ward Michael, one of his patients of the “first hour”, ran over to greet him. He locked his little 7-year-old arms around Sydney’s legs and beamed up at him, “Sydney!” he exclaimed happily. Sydney bend down and lifted the little fellow up. It was hard to believe that only months ago this happily grinning youngster was brought to the hospital close to death, a little present from his father. It was already arranged that he would be taken into care with his relatives who lived in the East of the country. At least it wouldn’t be with strangers. Sydney hoped that from then on he was able to spend a normal, happy childhood and that whatever horrors he had undergone could be forgotten.

Michael had now wrapped his arms around Sydney’s neck and was hugging him. For a brief moment Sydney let himself be enveloped by the child’s warmth.

With Michael on his arm he walked further onto the ward and was greeted by four more happy voices. It brought a shy smile to his face. His calm influence had healed some of their pain and he hoped that all would have a happy future. He put Michael down and gave his attention to all five now.

One of the nurses walked in and smiled when she saw him busy with them. She liked the way he handled them, listened to all of their stories with genuine interest and the way they responded to him. One day he would make an excellent father.

She walked over to him, “Doctor Green, can I have a word with you?”

He turned to her and his smile made her feel warm inside, “Yes, of course.”

He stood up, said his goodbyes to the children and followed her out into the corridor.

“We have a little patient in room 309. He has been with us for about two years now and maybe you could have a look at him?”

“Why didn’t I know about him if he has been here that long?”

“Maybe the management thought he was a hopeless case and that a catatonic has no need of a psychiatrist. I might be stepping out of ethical bounds and they might be right, maybe you can’t help him… I mean…. But I have seen you with the other children for the last two months now and I thought maybe…”

He smiled warmly at her, “No need to be embarrassed, if I can help I will try, lead on.”

She took him to room 309, on the way filling him in. The child, Victor, was 10 years old. His mother had brought him in about two years ago. He had been catatonic for that whole period. He responded to some stimuli. The doctors and nurses had done everything in their power to try and release him from his catatonic state, but they had not been successful.

The mother had given up hope that he would ever wake up.

Nurse Cunningham knew it would be medically unethical for her to intervene, but her concern for the child overrode these considerations.

He told her not to worry, if necessary he would tell them he had walked into Victor by accident.

They stopped in front of room 309 and entered.

He opened his Inner Sense and was all but physically assaulted by the loneliness, which emanated from the little boy on the bed. It brought tears to his eyes. He quickly closed himself off.

“You all right, doctor?” she was worried when she saw him grow pale.

“Yes,” he said with some difficulty, “I’m all right. Could you leave me with him for a while?”

She nodded and left the room, while he sat down in the chair next to the bed.

He took the child’s hand in his own and let his mind open up slowly. Waves of pain, loneliness and confusion hit his own mind. It was cold and horrible. The boy was trapped. He let go of the boy’s hand before he became enmeshed in his mind.

He wasn’t sure if he could help. He had only attempted it once before and, although successful, it had left him physically drained for days. Did he have enough strength to do so again? What would his colleagues, if they knew, make of it? The psychiatrist being his own patient? That wouldn’t go down very well on future résumés would it? But he couldn’t let the boy suffer in there either. He was all alone and afraid.

Sydney opened his eyes and noticed that his cheeks were wet with tears. No, he couldn’t leave the boy to suffer on his own. He needed time as well and someone he could trust to pull him out of “there” if it all went wrong. His brother Jacob was the only one he could trust implicitly, but he was away for an undetermined time on business for the Centre. And now that he knew about Victor he also knew that he couldn’t walk away from him or let boy slip further.

The nurse who brought him here came back into the room. She found him sitting by the bed. It was obvious that he had been crying. “You all right, doctor Green?”

He nodded, but than sadly shook his head slowly. “What is your name nurse?”

“Cunningham, Madeleine Cunningham.”

“I might be able to help him, (-she smiled at him-) but the method might be unconventional. Will you help me?” He had decided there and then that if he needed someone to assist him, she might be the one to do so. She cared enough about the boy to approach him when nobody else had done. He was only unsure how she would take to the “treatment”.

“How unconventional will it be?” she asked with a small frown and some concern.

He smiled sheepishly back at her, “It will not harm the boy, if that is what you are worried about.”

“You would never harm a child, doctor.”

“No, I will try not to. It will mean I will have to sit with the boy for an extended period and that I am not to be disturbed in that time.”

“How long will it take?”

“It might take minutes, it might take hours, I don’t know yet.”

“What do I have to do, doctor?”

“Just make sure that we are not disturbed.”

“That’s all?”

“Almost. If I am not successful, the boy might go into convulsions,” there was no easy way to breach it, “you will have to wake me up.”

“Wake you up, doctor? And why would the boy go into convulsions and why would you be asleep?” she took a step back and he feared that he might have lost her.

“I will be appearing to be asleep during the proceedings and I need an anchor to come back. You will have to be that anchor, nurse. I might be able to reach the boy, but he might not want to come back, do you understand?”

She shook her head slowly, not quite understanding and a bit afraid of what he was going to do.

He was afraid that she might burst through the door and denounce him a dangerous charlatan. Could she ever see him as a “normal” person after this? He had already made up his mind to try and save the boy, but he needed her co-operation. Honesty, as much as could be understood by her anyway, was required here. “I’ve studied some forms of meditation, which might enable me to reach the boy’s mind. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. It is something most people are able to do as long as they are willing to train in it. But to do so I need to focus completely and cannot be disturbed. There will be no flying objects or any other disturbing phenomena. I will not dance around the bed,” he smiled at her and gently nudged her mentally into acceptance, “or pretend to be a faith-healer.” He noticed that she had relaxed slightly and lightly he pushed her again, “If I am to help him I need someone I can trust to pull it off. Do I have your trust, Madeleine?”

His calm voice, gentle smile and her urge to help the boy made her relax, “When do you want to do it, doctor.”

He relaxed as well. “When does your shift end?”

“In about six hours.”

“Then I will try and do it now. It would be better if you go about your usual business and look in on us from time to time.”

She nodded once and was about to leave the room when his soft voice called her back, “Thank you, Madeleine.”

“You too, doctor. I hope that whatever you are trying to do will work.” She left the room and he returned his attention back to the boy.

He started to take deep breaths and calm his inner self before taking the boy’s hand in his own again. The turmoil he felt nearly made him break contact. He focused on entering the boy’s mind…

Inside Victor’s mind

He stood alone in a darkened corridor of a large building, at least that was the first impression. Enough light filtered through from an unknown source to let him make out shapes, but it was difficult to see what he was looking at. The corridor stretched ahead of him, but it seemed crooked and out of shape. There were pictures on the walls, but they were out of focus and most of them broken as if a fist had been rammed into them.

He tentatively moved forward. The floorboards beneath his feet shifted slightly, making it difficult for him to keep his balance.

“Victor,” he called at the empty corridor. “Can you hear me?” He was met by silence. He called out once more, “Victor, please answer me if you are here.” He stood still. Silence. No, wait; there was a small sound, a whimper, coming from behind the door at the end of the corridor. He moved towards the door.

A strong wind struck up. By the time he was near the door he could hardly breathe for the strength of the wind. He pushed on. His hand found the doorknob… and the wind died down.

He pressed the handle down, but the door was stuck. There was some forward movement when he pushed, but that was how far it would go.

“Victor,” he asked gently, “If you are in there would you let me in? I am here to help you. My name is Sydney and you can call me that, if it is easier but would you let me in, please?”

He waited and slowly the door opened inwards. Sydney waited patiently until the door was open wide enough for him to walk in. He stepped into a boy’s room. The room was in semi-darkness and flashes of lightning from outside provided the extra clarity in the room. Here the frames hung crooked on the wall, but their faces were turned to the wall. He saw a baseball on one of the bookshelves and realised at the same time that the ball had been slashed. Books lay scattered around the room and all seemed to be torn or damaged, except for one on the desk by the window.

Before he could make his way over and take a look at the title, a small whimper in the corner of the room drew his attention away from it.

“Victor?” he asked tentatively and moved carefully towards the sound. The dim light of one of the flashes outside revealed a small boy huddled in the corner. He reached out his hand, “Victor?”

He wasn’t prepared for the snarl that greeted him and the room exploding into light. He drew his arm protectively across his face. The sudden wind buffeted his clothes. When the wind subsided and he drew his arm down, the scenery had chanced. A cellar? Or a storeroom?

He saw the boy again. Although slightly younger he drew a strong resemblance with the child in the hospital-room to let Sydney know this was Victor. This time he didn’t immediately approach the boy, but tried to draw his attention first with soothing words.

He crouched down in front of the boy but was still almost three feet away. “Hello, Victor, my name is Sydney and I am here to help you. Don’t be afraid of me, I am here to take you away from this place. You do want to leave here, do you?” There was an almost indiscernible nod from the boy. “Good. May I come near you?” Another nod. Sydney went down on all fours and slowly moved towards the boy so he would not startle him.

When he was near he opened his inner self and let the warmth flow towards the boy.

The boy was not only able to feel his warmth but also to see it and his eyes opened wide in wonderment, “Are you an angel?” he asked in awe.

“No,” said Sydney, but when he saw the boy cringe away again, he added, “Just a helper.”

The boy was letting his guard down, “You can really take me away from here?” he asked in a small voice.

“If you want to, yes.”

The boy looked him full in the face now, his fear almost palpable, “But the Bogey-man will stop us. Then he will eat us and…” his voice had taken on another fearful ring.

Sydney drew the small boy towards him in an embrace and soothed him, “Hush, we will stand together and tell him he can’t have you.” A small whimper was the boy’s answer.

“Come, let us leave,” he said while he stood up and held out his hand. The boy took it after only a moment’s hesitation. When their hands connected there was a loud booming noise outside the cellar, as if a giant was banging the walls with massive fists. The boy wanted to cringe back into the corner, but Sydney held fast to his little hand and passed down assurance.

They both stood looking at the cellar-door. “No-o-o,” Victor whimpered, “Don’t let him in. He will hurt me again!”

“I am with you. You are not alone. Do not be afraid. He can only win if you show him your fear. I am here to help you. Together we will fight him. Come!”

He led the boy across the cellar. At first he didn’t want to come but Sydney waited patiently and sent waves of assurance to him. Finally Victor moved with him, his tiny hand gripping Sydney’s hard.

Before they reached the door, it flew open and a monster, a giant of a man, filled the entrance. His bulk was enormous, his hair stood out from his head in disarray, his eyes were red and blazed fire.

“There you are,” shrieked the apparition. Victor cowered behind Sydney. The Monster had a leather belt folded in half between his two hands, which he kept snapping repeatedly. “You have been a very naughty boy. You know what happens with disobedient naughty boys, don’t you?” The sneer on his face was horrible to behold, even to an adult like Sydney. The Monster moved closer, but Sydney anticipated every move and kept the boy behind him.

The Monster finally got annoyed with Sydney’s interference, “Who are you,” he asked irritated.

“I am Sydney and who are you?”

“None of your business, but if it makes you stop moving. I’m his Dad-dy!” he said the last sarcastically and drawn-out.

“No, you are not!” screamed Victor from behind Sydney.

“Oh yes I am,” answered the Monster in Punch-and-Judy-like fashion, “Your mother married me, so, that makes me your Daddy. Now come to Poppa.”

“No,” from behind Sydney.

“Come here, you little tyke!”

“No,” the little voice was a little stronger now.

“You know what will happen if you disobey me,” he made another grab for Victor, but Sydney shielded the boy.

“”No,” stronger again. The Monster seemed to shrink in stature too.

“Come here, do as I tell you!”

“No!” Sydney could feel the boy straighten up behind him, gaining in confidence.

“Come here, you…” there was a nasty gleam in the Monster’s eye, “The Shield! You will come if I take your Shield away!”

“No!” there was a slight note of panic in the boy’s voice.

Sydney didn’t say anything, but braced himself.

The very much-diminished Monster, looking more or less like an ordinary man now, advanced on Sydney, leather belt still snapping, “Yes… Take out the Shield.” He chuckled, getting closer to Sydney and snapping the belt. Suddenly he snapped the belt at Sydney and although he had been expecting it he just managed to bring up his arm in time to defend himself. A sharp stinging pain moved down his arm and coursed through his body, he couldn’t help wincing.

It brought a smile to the Monster’s face when he saw that and he seemed to grow a little again. He raised his arm to inflict a second attack with the belt, but this time Sydney was better prepared and before it could hit him he had taken hold of the belt, wrapped his hand around it and yanked it out of it’s owner’s grasp.

The man, who had shrunk so much that he became apparently normal seized, looked at him in astonishment. Sydney felt, rather than saw, that Victor was trying to peek from behind him. He saw the “Monster” shrink as well and he became bolder in his watching. Not just quite exposing himself yet, but it was a move in the right direction.

“Give that back to me,” shrieked the man in a high-pitched voice.

“So you can use it on the boy again? I don’t think so!”

“It’s mine, you have no right…”

“Oh, but I have. This belt will never hurt the boy again,” said Sydney and let the belt disappear in thin air like a stage-magician.

“No-o-o-o,” screamed the man and started to shrink faster on himself until he was nearly two heads smaller than Sydney. Now before Sydney and Victor stood an ordinary man, small in stature, with skinny shoulders and a beer gut, not much to be afraid of.

“The belt would have done better service to prop his belly up,” thought Sydney.

The man’s face was ferret-like with a week’s stubble. His ears were too large and his eyes too small, Sydney almost felt pity for him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he learned that the man had been bullied and maltreated when young for these characteristics.

He tried to make a grab for the boy again, but with Sydney towering easily above him and squarely blocking his way prevented this.

He gave in quite easily as Sydney knew he would. Sydney now felt movement behind him. Victor looked at the “Monster” and instead saw his stepfather cowering, lost without his belt. He grew a little bolder and sidled up to Sydney’s side, still holding on to his hand.

Too late he saw the red gleam in his stepfather’s eyes, too late for Sydney to prevent what was coming. The man made a grab for Victor and managed to snag him by the shirt, pulling him towards him. At the same time Sydney got hold of the boy’s waist and was pulling him towards himself. The pull on the boy was tremendous and Sydney had to use all of his strength not to let go of him.

“Victor,” he said in a strained voice, “help me to pull back. He can’t harm you if you won’t let him. He won’t take you if you are not willing to go with him. Look at him. He is really a weak man. You can beat him!”

The boy looked back at him and there was helpless fear in his eyes, “I can’t,” he whispered and the pull went in favour of his stepfather again.

“Yes you can,” said Sydney, redoubling his efforts, “I’m here to help you, but the real strength must come from within you. I know you can. You have to believe that you can. Try!”

For a second the pull favoured Sydney’s, when the boy felt surprise that anybody could believe him to be strong enough. Slowly it drew to the other side when Victor started doubting himself.

Sydney was straining hard and felt no inclination to let go. The Monster grew every time Victor wavered. He had to do something or all would be lost.

“Victor, you remember how small he became when we took the belt away?” The boy nodded. Sydney continued, “He is only a big man with a belt, he is a coward without it.” The boy paused to consider and the pull went in Sydney’s favour, he pressed on, “Do you want to be like him?” A vigorous shake of the head, the pull went in Sydney’s favour, “If you want to get out of his clutches, you have to stand up to him. Show him your strength. I’m here to help you. Look at him. He doesn’t like you to be strong.”

The boy glanced over at his stepfather and saw him diminished in size and saw the gnashing of the teeth. It strengthened the boy’s resolve.

“Pull away from him, Victor, you can do it! Yes! That’s the way to go!” And with one last pull Victor came free from his stepfather’s grasp and both fell backwards in a tangled heap.

The boy was laughing nervously and Sydney added his laughter to the boy’s. Victor looked over at his stepfather and saw his sorry figure holding his arms out to him, but Victor let out a victorious laugh and the man shrunk even further until he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Victor, still leaning on Sydney’s chest, looked down in Sydney’s eyes. The smile on his face wavered a little, “Is he really gone now?”

“He is from here,” said Sydney truthfully, “but he is still out there in the real world.” The boy cringed. “But,” said Sydney, “I will do everything I can to keep him away from you once we get back. And when you see him, you will remember what you saw just now. He will have no power over you. Will you come with me?” With only the slightest bit of hesitation the boy nodded.

“Then come,” said Sydney while he stood up and held out his hand. The boy took it. There was more confidence in his step and together they walked out of the cellar.

Back in the hospital room

When he came to he found himself resting with his head on the bedcovers, the boy’s hand still in his own hand. There was a stinging pain in his right arm where the dream-stepfather had hit him and his muscles hurt. He knew it would stay with him for a few days. He looked up and was in time to see the boy’s eyes open. There was a smile on Victor’s face, “You are real!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” nodded Sydney and was surprised how hoarse his voice sounded. “And so are you.”

“Am I better now?”

“I little bit better I hope,” said Sydney with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Great!” said the boy and started to rise out of bed to hug Sydney.

Sydney moved over to give him the hug when he saw that Victor was too weak yet to perform this task and was desperate to do so. He folded his small arms around Sydney’s neck and kept it there, too reluctant to let go just in case it was still a dream.

That was how Nurse Cunningham found them.

Her hands flew to her face in wonder and elation. A nervous giggle escaped her mouth.

Victor let go of Sydney’s neck in panic and tried to hide behind him, but Sydney hushed him, “It’s alright, Victor, this is Nurse Cunningham. She has been looking after you for a long time and she asked me to bring you back. You don’t have to be afraid of her. She is really a nice person. Just say “Hello” to her.”

“Hello,” said Victor in a small timid voice.

“Hello,” answered Nurse Cunningham, wiping the tears of joy off her face. “I am so happy to see you awake. It’s nice to have you back with us.” The boy grinned at her, taken by her kind words.

It spread a feeling of happiness in Sydney, but he was also very tired. He tried to sit up, but swayed with the strain of exhaustion. He sat back and took a grip on himself. The boy still needed him.

His movement had not been lost on the nurse. “Do you want to go to sleep for a while, Victor?”

“Not really,” said Victor in a scared voice, “I don’t want to go to the bad place again.”

“You don’t need to go back there,” said Sydney trying to keep the exhaustion from his voice, “You go to sleep, get some rest and I will be there with you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I am a bit tired myself. We could go to sleep now and have the same dream.”

“Okay,” said Victor and moved back under the bedcovers, his eyes slowly closing.

Sydney moved the chair in another position. In this way he could lean back and still hold the boy’s hand. Before he closed his eyes he looked over at Nurse Cunningham, “How long before your shift ends,” he asked her, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Another five hours. Do you want me to wake you then?”

He nodded tiredly and drifted off to sleep. She closed the door softly behind her.

Two years later

Victor had made a remarkable recovery and with Sydney’s help managed to become a happy little boy again. Arrangements were made to ensure that his stepfather was put away for a long time and was not allowed to see the boy again.

Unfortunately, fairy tales are made in dreams. And it was about a year after Victor stopped being his patient that Sydney received some dreadful news.

Although Victor was not his patient anymore, he still wrote to Sydney telling him his latest exploits in discovering the world anew. All his happy thoughts. Every time Sydney received one of his letters he always read them with a smile and it made his day a happy one. The people in the Centre could never understand why on certain days Sydney would come to work being so joyful. He was always considered too serious.

Only Jacob knew. Nearly two years ago, while on business for the Centre, he had been feeling rather weary and anxious for no apparent reason other than that it something to do with Sydney. He cut his business short and went to Sydney’s home. When he entered he met Nurse Cunningham who had driven his brother home and who was very worried about his brother’s weakened condition, but he was able to ensure her that it was just a case of exhaustion. Sydney slept around the clock and when he woke up he had told Jacob what happened and was glad that he was there for him.

Then, nearly two years after the event when he was alone in his office, Victor’s voice screamed his name in his head. It was a plea filled with pain, fear and confusion. Sydney grasped his head in pain and knew that there was something wrong with the boy.

Rather than use the telephone he decided to go over to Victor’s home immediately to find out. He met Jacob on the way and when his brother saw in what nervous state Sydney was in and learned what he intended to do, he offered to drive him there, which was gratefully accepted by Sydney. The apprehension within Sydney grew, the closer they came to the house. He nearly jumped out of the car before it came to a full stop. He forced himself to a walk and Jacob was able to catch up with him.

“What’s wrong, Sid,” Jacob asked worriedly.

“I don’t know, but I think the boy is in danger.” He couldn’t explain to Jacob why the boy felt so close to him. He couldn’t understand it himself.

He rang the doorbell and the mother opened it, leaving the door at a crack, “Doctor Green?” she asked surprised, “What brings you here?”

“How’s Victor?” Sydney asked without preambles.

“Fi-i-ne,” she said uncertainly.

“Could I speak with him?” It took great restraint not to fling the door from her grasp and to enter the house forcibly.

“He’s out in the yard,” she said defensively and Sydney’s hair stood on end.

“I don’t think he would mind if I came to see him,” he said and moved past the woman through the door, closely followed by Jacob.

He moved quickly through to the back, “Victor!” he shouted. Hearing nothing inside he went into the garden through the kitchen door. There was nobody in the garden. With determination he walked towards the shed at the back of the garden. It was a big shed, bigger than a pottery-shed. He opened the door and stood stock-still. He wished he could refuse seeing what he saw.

Victor was laid over a barrel, naked from the waist up. His stepfather stood behind him, bloodied belt in hand, which he had been laying into the boy. The boy’s back was a bloodied mess and it wasn’t sure if the boy was still breathing, he wasn’t making any sound.

In two steps Sydney had moved over to the man and had ripped the belt from his hand. The man turned, a maniacal smile on his face, “I told him what would happen if he didn’t obey me but no, he said he didn’t have to anymore, the insolent cur. He got what was coming to him.”

Sydney felt the anger rise in him, he was breathing hard and before he knew it he had hit the man twice, three times, before Jacob managed to pull him away from him. “Stop, Sydney, I think you might have at least broken his nose! Look after the boy! I’ll see to him,” he added in disgust when he looked at half-unconscious man at his feet.

The anger vanished as quickly as it had risen. Sydney bent over the boy to see if he could help him but a single touch told him that they had been too late.

There was no life left in the still form. A single, heart-rending cry issued from Sydney’s mouth before he broke down in silent sobbing. The hand of Jacob brought him to his senses.

“Come, Sid, we have to call the police and an ambulance.”

Sydney nodded and let himself be dragged away from the boy but he sank to his knees only a foot away from the boy, staring at him, unable to move.

Seeing that he couldn’t persuade Sydney to move, Jacob went indoors and rang the police.

When the police arrived they were horror-struck by the scene. They first saw a man on the floor, whose bloodied hands covered his bleeding face and who screamed, “The bastard broke my nose!”

Another man, possibly the twin of the man who had opened the front door for them, knelt on the floor, staring at something in front of him.

It wasn’t until they walked further into the shed that the object of kneeling man became evident and that the full horror was revealed. The still form of a small boy whose back closely resembled a piece of meat on a butcher’s slab. He had been beaten to death. The obvious weapon of his murder was lying by the door and was drenched in blood. They could only stare, not believing what they were seeing.

When the first man saw the police looking at the boy, he babbled. “The tyke had it coming He wouldn’t listen to me, wouldn’t obey me anymore. He said he didn’t need to anymore. The doctor had told him that. Some “Sydney” -I hope he’ll burn in hell!- had told him to fight me. Me, his father! The little shit kicked me. He called me weak and a coward. He had to be taught a lesson, He isn’t going to disobey me anymore.”

The last shock came when the mother of the boy entered the shed and her first priorities were with the bloodied-faced man and not with her child.

Only the kneeling man seemed to be too numb to comprehend what was going on around him. He was still staring ahead of him and at the boy and only stirred when they moved the boy out. His eyes had a haunted look when they passed him and the small hand brushed his face.

Later that night

Sydney was still in shock when Jacob brought him home and sent him to bed, promising to stay the night.

Alone in his bed Sydney tried desperately to sleep, but the boy’s bloodied form kept appearing every time he closed his eyes. The stepfather had been right to say that he should burn in hell. He deserved to. Because of him a little boy who trusted him had died.

He had promised the boy to keep him safe and he had utterly failed. He was blaming himself for arriving too late. His words, two years ago, had let to the boys untimely death. Victor had taken heed of his words and had stood up against his stepfather. He had remembered what he had seen in their contact when Sydney had used his Inner Sense.

Yes, it had brought the boy out of his catatonic state, it had also killed him. An anguished sob escaped Sydney’s lips. The blame was his. His use of his Inner Sense had killed the boy.

Finally he drifted off to sleep.

“Why weren’t you there, Sydney?” Victor’s small form looked in accusation at him.

“I tried to get there in time. I am sorry I failed you,” said Sydney quietly.

“You promised me he couldn’t take me if I didn’t want to go with him, but he did. I was too small to stand up to him and fight him alone. You weren’t there!”

“I know. I came as soon as you “called” me, but I was too late.”

“You said he couldn’t harm me if I wouldn’t let him, but look what he has done to me!” He turned around and showed Sydney his back.

The bloodied mess screamed at Sydney, who watched in horror. He turned back to face Sydney. His hollow eyes were staring at Sydney, hurt and blame showing in them, “And now I am dead. Never again will I feel the warmth of the sun on my face or the wind through my hair, because you weren’t there.”

Sydney hung his head in abject shame.

“For two years you gave me hope that everything could be normal and I believed you,” his accusing eyes bored into Sydney’s, “but it was all a lie. He came back and you weren’t there to protect me like you promised. You are a liar!”

“No! I didn’t know that they had let him out so soon or that your mother had taken him in again. Had I known this would happen I would have pressed the authorities to let you be taken into care by relatives or other people. You have to believe me!”

“I don’t anymore.”

“But it is the truth.”

“Yours or mine?” the boy turned as if to go.

“Victor!” Sydney cried out and felt hands shake him awake.

“Sydney, wake up! You are having a bad dream,”

The soft voice of his brother awoke him. When he opened his eyes he looked in the worried face of his twin, “I am sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Apart from a nasty headache,” grinned Jacob painfully, rubbing his forehead, “I guess it is payback time for all the nightmares I made you share with me.”

Sydney grinned sheepishly. Although Jacob’s Inner Sense wasn’t as well developed as his own, the bond between them made the rapport strong. Thus they had shared dreams with each other, luckily not all of them nightmares. Being the better developed of the two in that area, Sydney had taken it on him to guard both of them of intruding on each other’s random thoughts or dreams to create some privacy and prevent embarrassment. But not all could be kept at bay, like now. There was an empathically strong bond between them, which had also been the reason that Jacob had returned early from his visit when Sydney made contact with the boy.

“I am okay now, Jacob, you get some rest. I will try to go back to sleep.”

Jacob didn’t believe him, but Sydney had closed himself off from his brother, not wanting to worry him needlessly. Jacob respected his brother’s wishes and went back to the guest bedroom.

When Jacob had left Sydney went back under the covers, but did not go back to sleep.

The next day at the Centre people noticed how drawn and tired he looked. Some of them knew that he had lost a little patient and sympathised with him. Jacob stayed close to him that day.

What Sydney couldn’t tell Jacob was that he could hear Victor’s voice whisper silent accusations at him. What was worse, it seemed that he couldn’t shut down his Inner Sense and that it was like listening to different radio-stations the whole day.

Alone in his office he grasped his hands over his ears but still the voices came. Voices from the past, voices from the present. It was a cacophony. Finally he shouted, “Shut up!” at the walls and collapsed in a dead faint to the floor.

Jacob brought him home and put him to bed. A nervous fever kept him there for three days.

When he awoke the voices were still there, whispering. He had to tune them out or go insane.

He managed to tune them out. Only allowing for some instances to open up his Inner Sense, but more in control. He wouldn’t let it run randomly anymore. It was shortly thereafter, that he stopped his work at the hospital and concentrated solely on his work in the Centre.

Only using it again when Catherine Parker had come up to him to ask for his help in controlling hers.

Present day

Yes he had been successful in keeping the voices away, too successful maybe. He had been able to help Catherine understand and control hers, but she was gone now. Her caring and listening to the voices of others had seen to that. Jacob’s empathy had drawn him to Catherine’s quest and he was also gone.

Now Catherine’s daughter had come to him, she would be asking him the same question her mother had asked him. This time he would open up to her and he might even have to listen to the voices he had buried for so long.

He was tired. Tired of the Centre and its lies. Tired of hiding in his own head. He had to deal with his voices first before he could help her.

“Victor?” he thought carefully and opened up.

“Yes, Sydney,” came the quiet voice.

“I’m sorry I stopped listening to you. I couldn’t bear your pain any longer.”

“It’s all right, Sydney. I understand now why you couldn’t be there. But I was afraid then. I am not afraid anymore and neither should you be.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“For what? For giving me two years of my life back?”

“Pity it couldn’t be longer.”

Victor smiled at him, “If you had opened up to me sooner I could have told you it was all right and you might have taken another path.”

“Yes, sorry.”

“There you go again, apologising. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” The feeling of a warm hand crept into his, a small hand, “Can we be friends again?”

Sydney nodded. There was another nice, warm feeling in return and then it was gone.

He opened his eyes. Yes, everything was all right once more and a sad smile crept over his face.

It was time to go home. He stood up and gathered his belongings.

There was a sound at his door. She stood silhouetted at the door, “Sydney?”

“Yes, Ms Parker…”

Yes, tomorrow would be a long day…

The End

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FanFiction on Captain Bialar Crais