Season 4
Finale, but not necessarily. Sequel to Silencing the voices. Making Ms Parker
understand her Inner Sense can be difficult
Educating Ms Parker
by Giton
Part 1.
Sydney's
front-room, Friday, early in the evening
“Stop
broadcasting so loudly, Parker,” said Sydney, letting go of Ms Parker’s hands
and pressing his own hands to the sides of his head as if that could stop her
shouting inside his skull. Well, letting go of her hands had helped a bit. His
own Inner Sense worked better while he was in physical contact with a person.
Unfortunately it also worked rather well when he was in close proximity.
“Sorry,
Sydney, didn’t mean to…”
“It’s not
your fault, Parker. I should be teaching you better. Let’s leave it for half an
hour before we try again, okay?” he was rubbing his temples painfully. Her last
“broadcast” had given him a pounding headache.
Some weeks
earlier
As he had
expected, she had come to him shortly after finding out about her Inner Sense.
Asking him the same question her mother had asked him all these years ago.
“Help me understand it, Sydney, please! It’s driving me insane! I don’t know
which thoughts are mine and which are other people’s.”
Of course he
had agreed to help her, could he do otherwise? He had not been able to deny her
mother, why would it be any different with the daughter?
He had
decided that it would be better to have the sessions at his home, away from the
prying eyes and ears of the Centre.
Ms Parker
had a difficult time trying to understand what was happening to her. Her mother’s
voice was coming to her unbidden. It was advising her, telling to trust her
Inner Sense but she could make no sense of it. There were other voices too. She
wasn’t sure anymore whether the voices were genuine or her own imagination
running riot. Finally she had turned to Sydney, having homed in on his Inner
Sense.
“What’s
happening to me, Syd?” she had asked pleadingly.
“It’s your
Inner Sense, Ms Parker.”
“Yeah,
right, that’s what my mother’s voice is telling me, but I still don’t
understand what it is and why me?”
“It’s the
gift… or the curse,” he added softly, “that your mother passed down to you.
That’s the ‘Why’. It had lain dormant in you, Parker. I have seen glimpses of
it over the years but you had a natural talent, totally unknown to you, to block
it. I didn’t want to force the issue. Or maybe I had hoped that it wouldn’t
develop. For the ‘What’, we have to establish to what extent you have this
ability, which direction it is going and than how to help you control it.”
“You mean
you don’t have a straightforward answer what this is?”
“Each
individual has it in a different form or sometimes even forms. Some have
developed stronger senses some weaker. Some have never known how to tap into it
and are blissfully unaware. Some have learned to control it, use it to their
own or other people’s advantage. And some have let it control them completely
and ended insane. No, Ms Parker, there is no straightforward explanation. If it
is any consolation, I think yours was triggered when you found out about Ethan.”
“Does that
make me a freak like Angelo or Ethan,” Ms Parker asked softly.
Sydney
smiled gently at her and cupped her chin in his hand, staring directly into her
eyes, he asked her softly, “Do you really see Angelo or Ethan as freaks? They
are different, yes, and had the Centre not twisted their minds you might have
passed them in the street and not even known they were special. Am I a freak to
you? Or was your mother?”
“Why you,
Sydney?” she asked in wonderment
“You know
the answer, Parker. Why else did you come to see me about it?”
“I just
wanted to know what is happening to me.”
“With time,
we will find out.”
That’s when
they decided to have the sessions.
Friday-evening
“It is all
so frustrating, Sydney,” she said when they had settled down, after Sydney had
downed a few aspirins to help ease the headache, “We had, what, three sessions
now and I still don’t know what is wrong with me.”
“There is
nothing wrong with you, Parker, on the contrary. As I said before, it is an
extra sense. To some it’s a gift, to some a curse. See it as an extra arm. It
can be handy sometimes or very much in the way of doing things. I’m here to
help you control it. Once controlled it might act as a gift.”
“Why do you
keep contradicting it?”
”What do you mean?”
“Well, you
keep saying it is a gift, but than on the other hand that it could also be a
curse. Why?”
“Ah, I see
what you mean. I meant, if it can be controlled it can be wonderful, to you and
others you might be able to help. If it’s uncontrollable, when it is intruding rather
than helping, it can be a curse. Look at Angelo. He’s an empath, He can’t
control it, he feels other people’s emotion very strongly and he can’t shut it
down. It’s driving him to the point of insanity. Ethan only controls it to an
extent. Luckily he’s faring better now since he’s learning to control it.
In the end
your mother was finally able to control it. With it she helped many children in
the Centre. Unfortunately, the Centre’s policies stood in the way.”
“What about
yours, Sydney?”
“What about
mine?” he asked evasively.
“Is it a
curse or a gift to you?”
”A bit of
both really,” he answered truthfully, “Luckily mine did not develop until I was
in my teens. I would have gone insane if it had developed when I was still in
Dachau. For a while I saw it as a blessing, when I was able to help others with
it. But something happened, which made me shut it down for quite some time. I
was able to help your mother. And then the Centre’s policies…” he did not
continue. She had no need to fill in the blanks.
“Did Jacob
have it?”
”Yes, but his was not as strong as mine, except when we were together. He
treated it as fun, as he did with most things in life.”
“What is
mine?”
“Well, for
one thing we have established you are a receiver,” he explained when he saw the
questioning frown on her face, “Its evident so far that you can pick up
messages from, for want of a better term, ghosts like your mother. We don’t
know yet if you can receive messages in the telepathic sense. You sensed me,
but to what an extent you can receive, needs to be seen.
You must be
able to send them, judging by the “loudness” (-he rubbed his temple with one
hand and a smile on his face-) but we don’t know its range yet. A combination
of sending and receiving is not uncommon. You might even be mildly empathic.
As you can
see, it is not easy to pinpoint your ability yet. I know it is difficult but
you have to have some patience.”
He saw that
she tried hard to understand, He also saw her impatience bubbling to the
surface.
“You want to
try again?”
“If you’re
up to it.
They were
sitting opposite each other. As before, Sydney lightly held her hand in his
own. Their eyes were closed to help them concentrate. Sydney’s soft and gentle
voice guided her along, “Okay! Try to relax,” he said, keeping his own Inner
Sense tightly in control while still monitoring hers, “That’s it. Now, try to
open up your mind… slowly, don’t rush it. Picture something which made you
happy.”
Although he
had been prepared to the way she transmitted, the vibrancy of the colours she was
projecting nearly blinded him, “Easy, Parker,” he said in a tight voice, “Don’t
push it too hard.”
The colours
toned down somewhat, “That’s it. It will be less of a strain to yourself and
others if you do it gently. Now try and make the picture clearer, as if you are
standing away from it.”
Her mind
grasped the concept quickly this time. The vibrant colours became less vivid
and it was as if she was stepping away from it, as Sydney had instructed. The
picture became clearer too and showed Mrs Parker holding the younger self of Ms
Parker in her arms, softly the song of lullaby could be heard in Sydney’s mind
and he recognised Catherine Parker’s voice. It nearly brought tears to his eyes
when he heard her voice. He kept himself under control.
“Okay, Ms
Parker, remember the feeling. This is a memory. It will have a distinct
difference to the voices when you hear them. It is crucial that you will be
able to distinguish between the two.”
He took a
deep breath and allowed himself to open up more, “Now don’t be alarmed but I
will try and talk to you in your mind. Ready?” He felt her acquiesce.
His
breathing deepened with his concentration, he didn’t want to scare her. She
felt a prickling sensation at the base of her skull as if someone was watching
her. Within a heartbeat he was on her plane of mind. She had chosen to be in
her office, strange that she would choose that particular spot as a place of
security.
She looked
at Sydney in amazement. He looked younger, not by a lot but definitely younger,
and he seemed to be lit from within. It had a very calming effect. He smiled at
her. His words were gentle, like a caressing breeze, almost hypnotic. “Can you
hear me, Ms Parker?” Her mind-self nodded. “Would you like to try and talk to
me too? But will you try and be gentle this time? Like you’re having a normal
conversation. I am close by, so you don’t have to speak very loudly. Will you
try?”
She opened
her mouth and although it was not as loud as earlier sessions she still needed
some time to adjust to the skill. “Why do you look different, Sydney?”
“I was not
aware of it.”
“You look
younger, but not by much and you glow!”
“Part of it
is what I want you to see and part of it is how you see me. The glow is my
life-force. The happier and healthier I am, the stronger the glow.”
“Do I look
different to you?”
”Yes,” he smiled at her, “More gentle than you normally show yourself in real
life. It suits you.”
She shyly
smiled back at him and by doing so a gentle light started to pulse within her.
On another level Sydney pitied the lost years that could have changed her into
this lovely woman rather than the cold person she projected in the Centre.
“Remember
the feeling that comes with talking on this level. Can you feel the difference
between a memory and a telepathic contact?” She nodded again.
“Good, we
leave it at that for the moment. Next we will try and contact one of your
voices,” he saw her shudder in anticipation and at the same time nervous at the
prospect. “Don’t be worried, it will be alright. We just need to give it a bit
of time.”
She felt him
retreat and then he was gone from her mind. It left her with a feeling of
emptiness and she opened her eyes. She felt tired as if she had just ran a mile
at top speed.
She looked
over at Sydney, who had let go of her hand. A sheen of perspiration had
appeared on his forehead and she grew alarmed when she saw how tired he looked.
Again he
smiled at her, “Don’t worry, Ms Parker, I am just a bit rusty in the use of my
Inner Sense. Just give me a couple of minutes and I will feel all right. How
are you feeling?”
“A bit tired
as well. Is that normal, Sydney?”
He nodded,
closed his eyes briefly and took a couple of deep breaths, “In the beginning,
certainly. It should be getting easier with the practise in the use. You don’t
feel too strained?”
“No. As a
matter of fact it seemed harder when you told me to “talk” to you quietly.”
“That is
because you were concentrating on controlling it.”
“I feel very
hungry, though.”
He smiled
his boyish grin, “It is a minor side-effect.”
She smiled
mischievously an raised an eyebrow, “Any other side-effects?”
“Only when
you concentrate too hard and over an extended period. It might drain you as if
the energy is running out of you. You have to be careful not to overextend
yourself.”
“I promise
to be careful. Shall I cook or will you?”
He laughed,
“You have many qualities, Ms Parker, but I think I will do the cooking.”
She followed
him into the kitchen and perched on one of the stools while she watched him
cooking their meal.
“Why did you
stop using it, Sydney?”
He had his
back to her but for a moment there was hesitation in his movements and she saw
his back tense, “I don’t want to talk about that, Ms Parker.”
“How can I
understand mine if I have no example what it could do, bad or worse?”
He stopped
what he was doing but still had his back to her, his body leaning on his arms
on the countertop, “I might tell you later, Ms Parker, at the moment I don’t
think it will further your education if I tell you why. I… don’t want to talk
about it now. So, no more questions about that, okay?” He sounded harsh but for
the moment he had prepared himself to be strong for her. There was no need to
burden her with his problems.
Ms Parker
scowled. “There he goes again,” she thought, “trusting me one minute
and keeping secrets from me the next minute. If he’s not going to tell me in
words and if I really have the abilities he thinks I have, I will find out
myself. No more secrets!” Her lips curled into a nasty smile and she was
glad Sydney had his back to her.
Sydney had
picked up her thoughts or rather the emotions and he wondered if he was
creating a monster by helping her understand her abilities. He sighed. He had
to keep a tight rein on his thoughts when they were doing sessions together, he
could see that. He went back to preparing the food.
After they
had finished their meal Ms Parker became impatient again, eager for another try
and wanting to learn more, fast. “Let’s try again, Sydney.”
“We have
only just finished eating, Ms Parker!” But he could see the eagerness in her
eyes and he knew he couldn’t deny her. “Okay, let’s clear this away first and
then move to the living-room.”
When they
sat down once more, Sydney told her to relax and to go through the breathing
exercises to enable her to open her mind. He held her hand lightly, sitting
next to her and doing the same exercises. They would be trying to tap into her
ability to talk to her mother while fully aware.
When he
entered her plane this time the scenery had changed from her office to a meadow
overlooking Blue Cove. He knew the place well. It was beautiful and calming.
She was
leaning against a tree. “Why are we here, Sydney?”
“It’s your
mind, Parker, you should know why. Have you been here before when your mother’s
voice spoke to you?”
“No, when
she spoke to me before it was just her voice and sometimes her face… was
floating somehow. I don’t know how to explain it. It is only when I am with you
that there is a setting.”
He realised
that she was trying to accommodate him when he was visiting her mind only she
had not realised this herself. “You are more in control of yourself than you
know, Little One,” he said using the endearing term he had used when she was a
little girl.
She looked
at him sharply. “Why do you call me that?”
“Sorry, I
won’t do it again if it is upsetting you. Shall we sit down?” Since she had
created a setting where this was possible it might make the progress easier
too.
They sat
next to each other, looking over Blue Cove. “It’s quite nice from up here isn’t
it?”
“Yes,” he
said, “One couldn’t believe that not all is as beautiful as it seems from up
here.”
He continued
when she stayed comfortable just sitting there, “It’s time, Ms Parker. Can you
call for your mother?”
She looked
startled. Hearing her mother’s voice was nice, but deliberately calling her…
what if this was all in her imagination? Not real! Was she just cracking up?
“Don’t be
scared, I am here with you. Try, Ms Parker.”
It was funny
to see that she closed her eyes on this plane as well to concentrate, “Mother,”
she called softly, feeling a little foolish doing it consciously, “Are you
there?”
Nothing
happened the first two times and she was just about to give up when her
mother’s voice broke through to her, “Yes, Monica, I am here.”
With a shock
Ms Parker opened her eyes, looked at her mother who was standing in front of
her and broke contact so fast that Sydney was hurled back into his own mind
again.
Both were
aware of their surroundings immediately and were gasping for breath. Both had a
nasty headache.
“What
happened,” asked Ms Parker, rubbing her temples in mirror-fashion to Sydney.
“You broke
contact abruptly. Probably the shock of “seeing” your mother.”
“I’m sorry,
Sydney! I didn’t…”
“Don’t
worry, it’s just a learning curve, “Is she still there with you?”
“I… I don’t
think so.”
“We’ll try
again next time. I should have prepared you better.”
“But why
wasn’t I startled when you appeared?”
”You knew I was coming. You weren’t prepared for your mother. Part of it was
that you didn’t believe it could happen. We do it gentler next time.”
“Why not
now?”
“Am I the
only one with a headache?”
“Sorry, Syd.
But could we try again, please?”
He gave in
against his better judgement. Luckily tomorrow was Saturday and he didn’t have
to go to the Centre. They started the exercise again.
This time she
had chosen her old room in her house. “She learns fast,” thought Sydney
to himself, “In this setting she would expect her mother to come in.”
After she
had called for a couple of times, her mother did enter the room via the door,
“Hello Monica. Hello Sydney.” She smiled at both.
Her
appearance nearly brought tears to Sydney’s eyes. He hadn’t seen her for such a
long time and his heart ached for her, “Hello, Catherine,” he said softly. Ms
Parker looked at him. This was her call wasn’t it?
“It has been
a long time, Sydney. I tried calling to you, but you seemed to have been closed
off for such a long time. Why? Didn’t you want to talk to me anymore?”
“It had
nothing to do with you, Catherine. I had closed myself to all.”
“Pity. And
how are you, my Little One?” she had turned to Ms Parker.
Ms Parker
looked over at Sydney; this was not him speaking was it? He shook his head. He
had not realised that he had used the same endearment for her as her mother
had.
She turned
back to her mother, “I am fine, thank you. How are you?” The minute she said it
she knew it sounded silly, an automatic response to the question. Her mother
was dead, how would she feel…
“I am fine
too.”
“Are you
really here?”
“Yes, I am
always with you. It’s nice I can talk to you now. I have been longing to do
that for a long time. It is good that Sydney is teaching you. Listen to him; he
helped me as well. I can feel the power strong in you. Sorry, I couldn’t be
with you for long.”
Ms Parker
had tears in her eyes. She was happy she could see her mother now as well as
hear her.
She saw
Sydney retreat, “Don’t go, Syd!”
“You want to
have some time together. I’ll be around, don’t worry.” He disappeared from
view.
Ms Parker
turned back to her mother.
Sydney had
gently broken the contact. He knew Ms Parker needed some private time with her
mother and needed to feel at ease doing so. He also sported a headache the
seize of Mount Rushmore and this combined with the anxiety of seeing Catherine
Parker, might make the whole situation awkward. He knew she would be visiting
him soon anyway. He wasn’t sure whether he was looking forward to it.
He was tired
but he also knew Ms Parker wanted to test her skills and he could do without
her probing into his mind as an exercise. He closed his eyes for a moment
without the intention of dozing off.
Ms Parker
had relished the little time she had with her mother alone. And although she
felt the emptiness when her mother had retreated, she knew she was close by and
could be tapped into whenever she needed her.
Almost like a
little girl with a new toy she wanted more. Play with it. Feel for its
boundaries.
She let out
her tendrils, the way Sydney had shown her a couple of days ago, and she found
him but through inexperience “slammed” into his mind. He woke up with a
stabbing pain and in reflex had thrown her out of his brain.
“Ms Parker,
what were you doing?” he bent over in pain clutching his head. She fared not
much better and was gripping her head as well.
“I just
wanted to surprise you by entering your mind. Like you showed me, but I think I
did it all wrong, didn’t I?”
”You might say that again! Ms Parker, please do not even try to attempt this
again until you had more experience, unless you want to give someone else a
headache, preferably not me.”
“Okay,
Sydney,” she said demurely. She scolded herself for trying to invade his mind,
a more experienced mind who could detect her easily. She had to be more careful
next time.
He knew what
she had planned to do and had therefore created a security-barrier before
resting, just in case he would doze off (which he had done) and she would
attempt to invade his mind (which she had done). He had not been prepared for
the force she was using to break into his mind and now he had paid the price
for it.
When he
attempted to sit up the room in front of him seemed to be spinning and made him
feel nauseous. Sit quietly for a moment, no use. Although getting up made the
spinning of the room more violent, it was either that or throw up in the living
room. He staggered quickly out of the room and headed for the toilet. He only
just made it.
“What was
that all about,” thought Ms Parker when she heard the violent retching
sound.
When Sydney
came back he was as white as a sheet. “What’s wrong, Sydney,” she asked
worriedly.
After
scraping his throat a few times, he said hoarsely, “Headache got out of hand. I
am not so young anymore, Ms Parker, and I suggest we call it a day. Wouldn’t
you agree? (-she nodded-) I will turn in now. We can proceed tomorrow but this
old man needs his rest. Will you be alright? You know where to find everything?
Good, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.” He all but stumbled out of the
room.
She had
agreed to stay overnight in the guest bedroom. Both of them not knowing how
long the sessions were going to last, nor as Sydney said, would it be wise to
drive home after a session. And although she wasn’t sleepy yet she could see
what he meant and also understood why he had to throw up. Her headache wasn’t
as bad, but it was borderline.
She opted
for reading a book before turning in.
Saturday
The next
morning saw her bright and early, although there was no sign of Sydney yet. She
made some coffee, partly to kill the time. Sydney rose another hour later.
“Slept well, Ms Parker?” he inquired, looking only slightly better than before
he went to bed the night before.
“I did, yes,
but did you? You look terrible!”
“Thank you
for your kind words,” he said sarcastically, “but I have to agree it took out
more than I expected. Nevertheless, I should be better after we had some
breakfast!” He set about preparing it. Ms Parker cringed. She wasn’t used to
having breakfast, normally a cup of coffee and a cigarette would do her in the
morning. She ate the breakfast anyway.
“Sydney, I
am really sorry about last night.”
“I know. You
just wanted to test your newfound skills. I’m not blaming you. And perhaps
trying to find more about what makes me tick?” he added in afterthought.
“Well, sort
of,” she admitted.
“I will tell
you everything you want to know, eventually. But I want to keep some things to
myself. Not because I don’t want you to know but because I am not ready to
share them with you yet. Some of the memories are still painful to me and I
have to deal with them first. Okay? I tell you what, when you have more
experience you are allowed to probe my mind to your heart’s content. No more
secrets, I promise. ‘Till then you will not try to do it again. Promise?”
She nodded,
feeling a bit like a small girl who was told off. “No more secrets?”
“No more
secrets!”
“Okay, I can
live with that!” She cheered up immediately, “Can we try again today?”
“Yes, we
will. Although I have the feeling we are moving too fast,” he lightened the
mood when he saw her disappointment, “You shouldn’t forget I am an old man and
need my rest as well. So, how about taking in some fresh air? (-she frowned-)
You know, the matter you find outside a building, does not come in a package
and is not circulated by the Centre’s air-vents? You should try it sometimes,
it is really good.”
She could
almost hear Jarod speaking. No second guesses where the Labrat had picked up
such an abominable sense of humour. She looked at his face and saw it smile,
not just the curve of his mouth but his whole face, wrinkles, eyes and all. How
could she refuse?
Part 2.
They came
back shortly before noon. Most of their walk had been in companionable silence
and she had to admit it had cleared the cobwebs. Sydney looked more rested too.
They were back in the living room.
“What now,”
she asked Sydney.
“We’ll try a
few easy exercises first, which will help you to be more in control, then we
will test the range. Is that agreeable with you?” She nodded.
Again, as
they had done before, they went through the breathing exercises with Sydney
still holding her hand to guide her. She was a fast learner and it was
mid-afternoon that Sydney called it a halt and proposed a break to get
something to eat. They were both hungry now. Sydney was tired but it wasn’t as
bad as the day before and when she had started to tone her “sound” down the
headache wasn’t so bad either. Her power of concentration was remarkable and
Sydney felt proud to have her as a pupil.
After they
had eaten and settled down. He sat in the chair opposite her, not holding her
hands. Not guiding her. He wanted her to do this on her own.
He told her
to relax and call to him in her mind while he did not join in the breathing
exercise. She had to call gently, not shout and concentrate in doing so.
She sat back
and relaxed. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt the pressure build
in her forehead, just over the bridge of her nose and along the ridges of her
eyebrows. It was difficult. This time she had a hard time trying to find him.
She now realised that most of the time they were going through the exercises he
had been helping her along. Doing it on her own was much harder.
He watched
her. A small frown appeared over the bridge of her nose a sure sign that she
was concentrating hard. He hoped she had remembered how to reach out.
Just calling
Sydney didn’t seem to work. She changed tactics. He had prompted her that there
were many ways to reach that goal and she had to find her own way to make it
easy.
She tried
picturing him sitting in his chair, then when she had a clear picture of him in
her mind she called and “pushed” at the pressure in her forehead at the same
time. Bringing her thoughts to the front of her mind, “Sydney?”
“Yes, Ms
Parker,” his gentle voice was in her mind.
She had done
it! She was so elated that she broke contact immediately and opened her eyes.
She saw Sydney frowning. “Did I do wrong?” she asked him puzzled.
“No, but you
have to do something about your social skills. Just leaving another’s mind so
fast is not a pleasant experience for the other person. But I forgive you for
now,” he smiled, “You did remarkably well, actually, on your first try. Yes,
you’re telepathic as well, congratulations.”
“Shall I try
again? I promise to be more courteous this time.”
“Okay,” he
said.
And they
tried again. This time she found it easier to make contact, say a couple of
words and then ease herself out of Sydney’s mind.
“Well done,
Parker,” exclaimed Sydney, “passed with flying colours!”
She was well
pleased with herself and felt like a schoolgirl getting high praise from the
teacher.
“Anymore?”
she asked excitedly.
“Whoa, Ms
Parker! Don’t you want to practise first? Know the expression, you have to walk
before you can run?”
“Sorry, Syd,
but I want to learn so much now! And I want to try it out. Can I, for instance,
also “talk” to people who are not telepathic?”
“You might
be able to send images or even suggestions, but talking in the sense as when we
did is rather hard, almost impossible. If they are relaxed or unaware you might
be able to come into their minds, they might experience it as a fleeting
thought, but be careful how you go about. You will have to practise more to get
accomplished to walk around someone else’s mind without damaging the memories
and the thoughts of the other person. I will teach you how you can accomplish
this when we get a bit further in the process.”
“Is it
because you don’t want me to probe into your mind?” she was back towards
suspicion again.
“No, Ms
Parker,” he said wearily, “I have already promised you that when you are ready
you can delve to your heart’s content. I will be ready for you then. This is
just to safeguard that you will not do irreparable damage to other people’s
brains and regret it.”
“Have you
done such a thing before and is that why you shut yourself off?”
“Not quite,
but you are warm.” They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Ms Parker
couldn’t contain her impatience any longer, “But are there more tests to see
how far I can go?”
“We can find
out if you are empathic and in which form.”
“How are we
going to do that?” she asked eagerly.
He stood up
and walked over to the dresser, picked something up and concealed it in his
palm. He walked over to where she sat and sat down again. “You will close your
eyes and I will place something in your hand and you have to concentrate on the
object. Try and tell me what the object is telling you. You don’t have to give
me a description of the object. It will be rather obvious. What I want to know
is what you feel when you have it in your hand. Okay?”
She nodded
and closed her eyes. He placed a ring in her hand. She touched it, fingered it,
concentrated very hard, but try as she might nothing came to her. In
frustration she opened her eyes.
“Nothing!
Absolutely nothing! Is that bad, Sydney?”
“No, it’s
just that you are not a telemetrist.”
“A what?”
“A
Telemetrist is a person who can tell where an object has been, who it belongs
to and so forth, like a touch-empath but one who works with inanimate objects.
I know the principles involved but I can’t tell you how it works exactly, since
I am not one either.”
“But you let
me get on with it…”
“You wanted
to explore your avenues. Just because I am not one didn’t mean that you
couldn’t be one. One does not exclude the other.”
“Point
taken. What’s next?”
He smiled,
“Ever so eager, Li… Ms Parker.”
She smiled
back at him, “It’s okay, Sydney, I was only shocked when I heard you use it
yesterday. I do remember that you used to call me that when I was a little
girl. I first believed that it was only my mother who called me that. And for a
moment I thought that you were the one speaking in my mind instead of my
mother, so I was upset.”
“Understandable.
Okay, if you want to do more… I think a thought without projecting it to you
and you have to tell me what I’m thinking. Ready?”
She nodded.
He sat impassively while thinking of Catherine. It normally made him sad and
happy combined. He knew working out what the thought could be would not be easy
for her.
She
concentrated. She could detect nothing in his features that would give the game
away. He could be like a Chinaman sometimes.
She tried to
enter his thoughts but he had shielded it. No cheating it said.
There was a
prickly sensation at the base of her skull and suddenly her being was filled
with an overwhelming sadness that nearly brought tears to her eyes. The hairs
on her arm rose and at the same time she wanted to laugh out loud. She thought
she recognised … her mother’s warmth? It was very confusing. She looked over at
him and saw him smile.
“You were
thinking about my mother?”
His smile
became broader, “Passed with straight A’s on that one too.”
She leaned
back, exhausted but in the way of a job well done. Satisfied, yes, that would
describe it better. She smiled back at him, “So, what’s your verdict, Freud? Do
I pass your muster?”
He smiled
sadly at her, “Do you have to ask? You always have, well, bar a few moments.”
“Sydney, if
my mother had it and I have it as well, does it mean it is genetic?”
“Opinions
are divided on the subject. Personally I believe it is, to an extent.”
“Does my
father have it?”
“Not to my
knowledge.”
“Or Lyle?”
“I hope
not!” he said in mock alarm and then grinned, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Are my
abilities strong?”
“I think so,
yes,” he was getting mixed feelings from her and suddenly he wasn’t quite sure
he liked where her questions were leading.
She veered
off on a tangent, “Does Jarod have them?”
He was
relieved when she voiced her question, “No, his talents are… unique. Don’t
really think they are like ours, no. Difficult to describe his talents,
actually, and I worked with him for over 30 years.” He harrumphed, “Fine
psychiatrist I make, don’t I?”
“Are you my
father?” There the question was out.
Although he
had expected it, the question took him a little by surprise he managed to
answer quickly, “No, although I sometimes wished I was.” But there had been
hesitation when he said these words and it made her wonder.
“Yeah,
sometimes I wished you were too.” Was he telling the truth to her?
He could
feel her uncertainty and he wished he could say that she wasn’t his daughter
with his hand on his heart, but he couldn’t do that. Oh, he had his doubts as
well but the only one who could say for certain was Catherine and she was dead.
It would be wistful thinking on his part.
It looked
like she hadn’t noticed his own musing and he thought that she was still too
inexperienced to pick up all the “vibes” yet. “What’s for dinner then?” she
said jovially, not in the least showing any signs of tiredness.
Sydney
glanced at his watch. Seven o’clock already? Time had flown this afternoon.
Apart from feeling a lit bit more tired than normal, today everything had gone
smoothly.
They moved
into the kitchen where he prepared the meal and she sat on her customary stool,
watching him. It would be nice if he was her father, she mused. At least the
cooking was good.
After they
had finished their meal they didn’t go back to playing “mind games”. They
talked about mundane topics. Including a hypothesis: if one could
telepathically talk to the animals, like Doctor Doolittle, what would they find
there? They retired at 11 o’clock.
Sydney
didn’t go to sleep immediately although he was more tired than he cared to
admit. He called in his mind to Catherine and she had come. Her presence filled
him with warmth and he regretted not having been in touch with her for such a
long time.
“Hello,
Sydney,” she said in her gentle voice.
“Hello, Catherine,”
he answered.
“It has been
a long time.” He nodded. She continued, “I have tried to reach out to you but
you had erected barriers. I was unable to contact you. I thought… you didn’t
want to speak to me anymore. That you were disgusted with me when you thought I
had committed suicide. You were the only known contact I had who could tell me
about my daughter. I could see her, but I couldn’t touch or speak to her. Why, Sydney? Why have you excluded me
from your life?” There were no recriminations in her voice just the urge to
understand.
“No, please,
Catherine, it wasn’t your fault. I knew you couldn’t have committed suicide and
it was classified at the Centre as “murder”, but you had also told me that you
would stage your own disappearance. What was I to believe?”
“But the
silence?”
“Not of your
doing either, Catherine, believe me. I had not used my Inner Sense for nearly a
year before you came to ask for my help. After showing you how to handle yours
I have used it only sporadically until recently when… Monica came to see me.
You see, none of it is your fault!”
She seemed
to consider it momentarily, “But why, Sydney?”
“You have to
ask, Catherine? Even with my Senses shut down I could feel the ghosts walking
the corridors of the Centre. The pain and anguish that is emanating from
certain parts of the building; I don’t even go near those places if I can help
it! I had to shut down or go insane.”
“You could
have left?”
“And had
left Monica and Jarod to the monsters? You saw what they have done to Timmy and
Ethan. How could you ask a thing like that of me? I know I’m not fully without
blame but leaving wasn’t a valid option.”
She accepted
his explanation. She slowly moved around in his mind. Touching on memories.
Some still made him shudder in pleasure. A caress here, a small kiss there. She
was very gentle with them. She turned back to him, “How’s Monica?”
“As adjusted
as could be expected. She’s still sad that she’s lost Thomas, he was her lover,
fiancé. She would have been happy with him and would have probably left the
Centre; maybe that’s why he was murdered. She’s happy and confused by her
newfound gifts. And…” he felt a bit embarrassed, “she’s wondering whether I’m
her father, since our abilities are so similar.”
She looked
at him in surprise, “You mean, you didn’t know?”
A feeling of
dread gripped him, “What should I have known?” he asked, although he had
already guessed the answer.
“You are
Monica and Timmy’s father!”
He was
momentarily stunned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you make me believe that
Charles was Monica’s father and why was Timmy abandoned?”
“You already
know the answer. It was safer for all of us.”
He was in
anguish and it took all his control to keep the contact. She saw this, “I
thought you would be happy with the news.”
He wasn’t sure
whether to laugh or to cry, “I am with the knowledge! But why didn’t you tell
me?”
“I thought
you knew. I couldn’t say it openly without endangering us all. And I thought
with your abilities…”
“I… I have
never pried into other people’s minds to find answers.”
“You can be
so damned principled sometime, Sydney,” her smile took the sting out of the
words.
“What do I
tell Monica?”
“The truth?
Didn’t you promise ‘No more secrets’?”
“But will
she believe me? She already believes I erected the barriers deliberately so she
can’t find out about the truth! Do you really believe she will believe me that
I didn’t know until now? She’ll hate me! To find and loose in one fell swoop,
how ironic!”
“You don’t
know if she will reject or hate you. I’m sorry if I caused you so many
problems,” she retreated from his mind.
“Catherine,
wait, I…” but she had already gone. What a fine mess this all was! He opened
his eyes and stared into the darkness…
Ms Parker
had gone to bed with too many questions on her mind. And she had trouble going
to sleep. Trying to contact Sydney telepathically would be pointless, a) he
needed his sleep, b) she remembered being thrown out of his mind the day before
and c) after yesterday he would have his barriers up. Contacting her mother
would be easier. Ghosts don’t sleep, do they?
She called
to her a number of times before her mother finally answered. She had nearly
given up, afraid that she couldn’t do it on her own.
“Hallo,
Little-one. You seemed troubled, can I help you?”
“I think you
might be the only one who can. It came up this afternoon. Is Sydney my father?”
her mind-self looked at her mother expectantly.
“That, you
have to ask Sydney.”
“I did, this
afternoon.”
“Ask him
again. I have already given him the answer,” and she disappeared.
Ms Parker
opened her eyes, terribly annoyed with the cryptic answer. “Great,” she
thought, “No matter how old you are, you are still treated like a child by
older people who have known you as a child, even by ghosts! Just what I wanted
or needed.” She scowled, “Ask Sydney!” She had nothing better to do
anyway and she couldn’t sleep. Why would everyone else be able to!
She put on
her dressing-gown and padded down the corridor towards Sydney’s bedroom. There
was no light shining from under his door. “Sydney? Are you awake? Can I come in
and talk, please?”
He had a
good idea what she wanted to talk about and asking her for a moment while he
put on his dressing gown. Rather then let her come in he ushered her
downstairs. It was now midnight and neither was tired.
He walked
into the living-room and over to the drinks-cabinet, “Care to join me?”
She said,
“Yes,” and frowned at the same time. Sydney wasn’t known to be a drinker.
After they
sat down Ms Parker took the initiative, “I…talked… to my mother and she told me
to ask you about my parentage. So, I’m asking.”
He looked in
his glass and swirled the contents slowly around, “Yes, I had asked your mother
the same question tonight and she told me, and believe me Ms Parker this was
the first time I knew about it, that I am your biological father!” He was
surprised that he was able to say it straight while his mind was still in
turmoil about the news. He looked up at her and saw a mixture of surprise,
astonishment and anger flit past her features, He had shielded himself from
her, not wanting to feel her confusion as well as his own or let his confusion
be mixed up with hers.
“You… are my
father?”
“It appears
to be so, yes.”
“But not
according to you!” There was anger in her voice.
“In all
honesty, I don’t know. It’s a high probability. Your mother and I…We were…
close, for a short while before your father started courting her. They were
married quickly after that and when you were born, I naturally assumed…”
“If you are
my father how can you still call him my father?”
“He has
raised you all these years as his own, maybe he believed he was your natural
father.”
“You don’t
want to be my father,” she scowled at him.
“Ms Parker…”
“If you are
my father stop calling me that!”
“Okay,
Monica. I wanted… want to be your father more than anything else… and Timmy’s…”
She looked
up in astonishment, “Angelo is my brother? That’s peachy! Lyle too?”
“No, I don’t
think Lyle is your brother or at least not my son. Angelo is your twin
brother!”
“Great! The
resident shrink and the Town-idiot are my family. Any more surprises?”
He shook his
head sadly, no more surprises. He could understand her anger. Could she
understand his feelings of confusion and loss? “Ms Pa… Monica, if I had known I
was your father events might have worked out differently…”
“Would it
now, Freud? What would you have done to make the difference? Married my mother
and be on the run for the rest of your lives?”
He had
quietly nodded to her questions and lifted his head at the last one, “I suppose
that’s why she didn’t tell me. She wanted you to have a “normal” and safe live.
Somehow she wasn’t able to protect Timmy, if she doesn’t tell us we might never
find out what happened.”
“And that’s
it? We just go back to our normal everyday lives at the Centre, get more
screwed up and let bygones be bygones? I just behave as if Mr Parker is still
my father and Lyle my brother and you just the shrink who works under me and
Angelo the freak that hides in the air-vents. Is that it? Then you can quite
happily pretend you have nothing to do with me, because he raised me?”
Even with
his defences up her anger was almost palpable, “Mi… Monica, I don’t mean to
sound…”
“You don’t
mean to do anything!” she spat the words out. “Like you haven’t been doing ever
since the beginning!”
“That’s not
true, I…”
“Oh, forget
it, Sydney. I have done without the comfort of a father for such a long time,
Bit late getting used to one now!”
Her words
hurt him. He hadn’t known she was his daughter but he had always treated her
like she was the daughter he thought he would never have. When he had noticed
that Mr Parker didn’t spend much time with her, either because of corporate
duties or other reasons, he had always been there for her as much as possible
without risking the ire of the Chairman. He could feel the tears build behind
his eyes and the pressure in his chest. He didn’t trust his voice to say
anything out loud or trust her emotions enough to open up his mind for her in
case she would tear it apart.
An angry
frown on Ms Parker’s face confirmed his suspicions, “You just go and sit there,
Sydney? Don’t you have anything to say to me, verbally or mentally?”
Her own
anger and confusion was building to breaking point. She could quite easily
believe that Sydney hadn’t know she was his daughter until tonight. Part of her
brain remembered the brief moments when he had been there for her, filling the
void her fath… Mr Parker was supposed to have filled.
Sydney,
taking her to the ballet and then, later, teaching her how to dance for her
first prom’s night. Sydney, holding her hand when her mother died and gently
wiping the tears off her face. It was Sydney who had put a bandage on her knee
after she had fallen off her bike the first time. Sydney, comforting her when
Thomas died. Yes, Sydney had always been there, more than her father had.
But part of
her also needed a scapegoat, someone she could blame for feeling so miserable
now. At the moment he was the only one available to vent her anger at and her
memory part of her brain slunk off in the shadows for the moment.
“You were my
mother’s lover. Did you still continue after… Mr Parker married her?”
He shook his
head. His principles would never let him date a married woman.
“And I have
to believe that?”
He looked at
her and sadness filled his heart. He knew why she was doing this but it still
didn’t make it right. He scraped his throat a few time and in a broken voice he
said to her, “Monica, if I had known I had children with the woman I loved with
whole my heart, as I did your mother, I would have taken her away from the Centre.
I would not even have started working for them. But when your mother started
dating Mr Parker I thought she didn’t want me to be her husband and I respected
her wishes.
We stayed
friends but not in the biblical sense, if you know what I mean. She had chosen
for… Charles and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. I had asked
her once why she didn’t want to see me anymore but she was very evasive. I
never got the change to ask her again nor did I feel that I had a right to
persuade her to change her mind. She never gave me any indication or hint that
she was pregnant with my children. And I, fool that I was, never pursued it any
further.
When she
started dating him we hardly saw each other. He was very possessive of her. To
move on I concentrated on my work then had a short affair with Michelle until
they made me believe she was dead…”
“It also
means that Nicholas is my half-brother!”
He nodded
and continued in a soft voice, “All the opportunities to raise any of my
children lost to me. Nicholas is now a grown man. We’re friendly to each other
in an adult manner but not like father and son. Luckily Michelle had found a
good man who raised him as his own. I do not want to sully his memory and I am
happy that Nicholas and I can be friends at least.
Angelo they
turned into… someone with no past or future. Even if I told him, I don’t think
he would be able to understand what is going on. And you,” he looked down in
his empty glass, unable to express how he felt. How he had longed since she was
a small child to be able to change her into a different woman. A warm and
caring woman, like her mother, rather than the “Ice Queen” Mr Parker had turned
her into
Resentment
to the unfairness of the whole situation bubbled to the surface and he looked
up to her again, a small frown greasing his forehead, “ …You hate me for
something I had no knowledge of. You resent me for something I had no part in.
Maybe it is poetical justice for the time I spent at the Centre. Yes, hate me
for the experiments I conducted in the name of Science or cowardice, take your
pick I don’t care. Even for some of the secrets, and promises to others, I kept
from you over the years in, what I thought, your own interest. But do not blame
me for the conduct of others.”
He continued
in a more subdued tone, looking down in his glass once more, “I do not expect
you to call me “Father” or “Dad” or anything like that, unless you want to. We
have known each other too long as otherwise to change that at the drop of a
hat. But give me my due for being a friend to you ever since you were a child.”
She had been
silent for the last part of his dialogue and she knew he was right. She had
known him for over thirty years now and knew that what he had just said was the
truth. Although he had worked for the Centre all these years she also knew him
as a man with more principles than was good for him in a place like the Centre.
Oh, he had shown great cowardice as well. Maybe he had not stood up for quite a
lot as he could have done, but if he had done so he would also be six foot
under by now. But she had seen him stand up against Mr Parker on more than one
occasion when he thought matters were taken too far, especially if it had
concerned her, Jarod or any of the children.
How many
times had she not wished for him to be her father instead of Mr Parker? But now
that it was true… Why had she been denied all those years? And her anger and
resolve crumbled.
She almost
gave him a half smile, “You are right, Sydney. Calling you father now would
sound false. I have called you ‘Sydney’ for so long it suits you better. And I
agree it is not fair to blame you for other people’s choices. But why did you
never ask my other to marry you? Why did you let my… Mr Parker just sweep her
away from you?”
“What could
I offer her? A beginning psychologist? A new immigrant to the country? Charles
could offer her so much more. Money, security, a house, status, a mind not
burdened with the past! I couldn’t! I wanted her happy and if that was her
choice than so be it.
I held you
once when you were a baby and I envied Charles for having you. And when the
years progressed I had given up hope to have a family of my own. Not knowing I
already had three children! In a way all children in the Centre were mine. My
responsibility. For better or for worse,” he added softly, being close to tears
he stopped speaking.
She could
almost feel his sadness seeping through his defences and even without her Inner
Sense she could see it in his whole demeanour. He had lost and been denied so
much. She was almost close to tears herself but whether this was a feeling of
sadness for him or for her own loss of not having a caring father when she grew
up she couldn’t tell, “Still Friends?” she asked tentatively.
He looked up
for the first time in a long while and she could see the longing in his eyes,
the hope. His half smile which was so familiar to her touched his lips, “Still
friends!” He said, feeling happier.
To emphasise
his words she could feel his mind open up to her, inviting her in. Trusting
her.
She found
she had no problems making the transference. No preliminary exercises. He must
be helping her. She could feel his “signature” when he did this.
He was
waiting for her. Standing in an image of the living room. He “glowed” strongly,
a smile on his face. He looked younger, his arms akimbo, letting her make the
first step in his mind.
She moved
slowly around in the “room”, seeing his memories as small fragile panes of
glass neatly arranged around the room. When she moved closer she saw that the
panes held slow moving pictures and stills. Some were bright happy moments and
some dark and sad.
She moved
her hand to one of the panes and she felt a slight touch of apprehension
emanate from him, but it dissolved quickly. He had let her in, for better or
for worse and he didn’t fear what was coming.
She looked
at the picture again and saw him as a small boy with his family. He looked so
happy then. She saw his father, mother, sister and Jacob, an exact copy of
Sydney. All were smiling as if looking into a camera.
She moved to
the next pane, a dark picture. Despair was radiating from it. It was a memory
of when the family was split apart in what apparently must be Dachau. Barbed
wire reached towards the sky and the feeling of two boys lost.
A bright
pane, in which Sydney and Jacob outrunning everybody at school. They looked
quite athletic. She smiled. Somehow she had never pictured him as such.
She moved
onward. Bright panes alternated dark panes.
She saw
panes of Jarod. Some were happy and radiated the pride Sydney felt for his
pupil. Another pane, which showed the happiness Sydney had felt when Jarod
escaped. She had always suspected that he wasn’t happy in chasing Jarod but
here she could see it in plain sight. She smiled at Sydney in understanding
before moving on to the next pane.
There was a
dark and at the same time bright picture of a small, eleven year old boy. He
was happy and sad at the same time. When that memory ended the little boy was
dead. She couldn’t understand what she was seeing. She didn’t recognise the
boy. It couldn’t have been a child connected to the Centre but she felt he was
the reason why Sydney hadn’t been using his Inner Sense anymore.
She saw
panes of herself, most of them bright ones. She could see his sorrow for her on
the day they buried her mother. Pride when she passed with flying colours at
the university. Hope when she met Thomas. Disappointment when she started
working for the Security detail in the Centre.
She came to
the pane, which showed her mother. It was a bright pane and looked stronger
than the others. The way Sydney must have seen her. Her mother looked more
beautiful than Ms Parker could remember. Even after all these years Sydney’s
memory of her was like a glowing light. It radiated warmth and kindness. It
brought tears to Ms Parker’s eyes.
She turned
to him, “I’ve seen enough, Sydney, let’s go back.”
There was
hardly a change in perspective and they were back in the living room sitting
opposite each other. She could see his exhaustion of guiding her around his
mind. There was hope in his eyes but he kept silent. Leaving it to her to make
the first step. Not wanting to push her.
She looked
at him with a slight bit of suspicion, “Was this all true, Sydney? Or did you
just let me see what I wanted to see?”
His voice
was sad and tired, “I had promised, ‘when I wanted to show you, no more
secrets’. What you saw was… is me. It was what has made me. All the pictures
were there, I did not hide any of them nor were they enhanced to “look” better.
Did you find what you were looking for?”
Her voice
was quiet, “You really did love my mother, did you? (-He nodded-) Even so much
that you let her go?”
“What else
could I do? I am not a fighter. And she made her choice. If that was what made
her happy, or at least that was what she made me believe, than that was fine by
me.”
“Oh,
Sydney,” she shook her head in disbelief, “You should have fought for her!”
“No, Mi…
Monica, I couldn’t and wouldn’t. Oh, I know, Jacob said the same thing to me,
but I couldn’t! I know you don’t understand and I can’t explain it to you
either.”
She changed
the subject when she saw that he had difficulties with it, it was still, even
after all these years, an open wound. He was right, she couldn’t understand.
“Who was the little boy I saw?”
“Little
boy?” he asked with badly faked innocence.
“Yes, about
eleven years old. Dead! Don’t think he was attached to the Centre.”
“Ah,
Victor,” a look of remembered pain flitted past his features, “He was a lost
little boy whom I thought I had saved from an abusive father. I was wrong and
he died because of it.”
There was a
slight annoyance in her voice, “That doesn’t explain why you stopped using your
abilities.”
He looked at
her almost pleadingly, as if he was willing her to drop the subject, but she
stared adamantly at him. He sighed, “Very well. I had helped him come out of a
comatose situation, which had been caused by the abuse by his stepfather. I had
told him that he could stand up to the man. I had been able to put that man
behind bars. And for a while the boy was happy and leading a normal life. Then
the stepfather came home and beat the poor boy to death. I was too late to
prevent it. Victor later came to me and accused me of causing his death. Many
years later he came to me again and forgave me.
When he came
to see me the first time he must have triggered a reaction in me and I couldn’t
shut my senses down. It was wide open to every thought around me. It was like
having a hundred radios around you all tuned to different channels and cranked
up loud. I had to shut down or I would’ve gone insane. I was sick for a while.”
Just
remembering that painful episode drained all the blood in his face and he
looked as if he was going to faint but he kept it under control as he did with
almost everything in life.
“And then my
mother came to you and you used your Sense again.”
He took a
deep breath, “Yes. Hers must have been triggered by your birth. She was
confused and couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She asked my help.
She had homed in on me too, just as you did. I couldn’t deny her either. She
was still my friend and if didn’t help her she would have gone insane.”
Ms Parker
looked at him curiously, “And you never looked at her memories?”
He shook his
head, “No. I was there to help her understand what was happening to her. I
didn’t want to pry into her private thoughts. It wouldn’t have been right.”
“If only you
had.”
He stared
sadly down, “Yes, if only I had.” The tears that had been building behind his
eyes for a while now where trying to come to the fore. He swallowed them back.
He was going to be strong. He wasn’t going to give in to this weakness and made
her despise him for being weak.
She saw the
turmoil he was in. He still hadn’t been able to let it all sink in. Hell, she
was still unable to grasp it all. It was worse for him. In a most un-Parker
like gesture she felt the urge to comfort him, to take away the pain. She
undulated from the chair and moved over to his chair and sat on the armrest.
She could feel him tense next to him, uncertain why she had come over. Well, she had to admit to herself that she had
always been living up to her reputation of being ruthless and that when she
spoke in a voice of honey she was more dangerous than a striking cobra.
She placed
her arm around his shoulder and gently eased his body to hers. The tension left
him and he let her embrace him. This time it was she who opened her senses to
him and let warmth flow from her to him.
It had been
a long time that he had let another person come so close to him and her embrace
reminded him of the warmth Catherine showed, albeit differently. To Catherine
the warmth had come naturally, to Ms Parker… his daughter it came shyly, new
found. He could not contain the grief, the anguish and the sorrow any longer.
She could
feel his body shake with silent sobs and she moved his head to her shoulder.
Stroking his silvery hair gently. “Ssh, it’s going to be alright,” she thought
silently and hoped he understood.
The End