Disclaimer: I do not own Rose Red, or any of its characters. This fan fic was not written for beneficial gain, so don't sue me! (I don't have any money, anyway…heh heh!) The young man from whose pov this story was written is my own invention, though.
Completion
I watch them all, one at a time. Study them. I know I shouldn't, but minds have always intrigued me and I am, after all, going to spend some time with these people. I might as well get to know them.
Their thoughts are like water, streaming, rippling over me. Images, feelings, words… The boy named Emery, so filled with anger and resentment. The image of a woman, dressed in a sweater with black and white stripes, brown hair... The image of her is strong in his mind, and consequently in mine. She is carrying shopping bags filled with all sorts of things; teddy bears, bunnies, corn flakes… I can't help but smiling. There is something innocent about her, those large eyes, and yet she seems so…domineering. Emery's feelings for her are mixed, to say the least. He loves her. And he hates her. I sense a twinge of guilt, followed by defiance. The smell of chocolate cake. "Don´t eat so much cream, it will only make you fat." I can hear her voice almost as though she were standing next to me. Emery suddenly turns around, to glare at me. I smile back at him, not wanting to insult him. He is not a bad person. Just angry. Disappointed. I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander, to explore…
There. A mind filled with anxiety. And love. Good will. Warmth. Even before I open my eyes I know whose mind I have interfaced with. The woman named Cathy. The name has a soft ring to it. It becomes her well. I feel an almost overpowering love within me. A wish to tell her how beautiful she is. I wish I could help her get rid of all those fears… the fear of not being enough for people around her, of not helping them as much as she could. The fear that she might not be a good Christian after all. The fear that she is not giving enough. Her feelings of guilt pain me. Once again, I wonder why there isn't a way I can help? Some people have that ability. They can influence the minds of others, encourage them, make them feel good about themselves. How come I have never been able to…? Oh, wait, there is something there. A slightly prickly sensation, almost like an itch. Somebody is watching me. Not just watching. Sensing me, reading me. I feel his mind. I sense curiosity from him, and warmth. Sympathy … and something else, that I can't put in words ... A name… Nick. I turn around in my chair to look at him. He is standing in the doorway. A tall, gaunt, blond man with the most startling blue eyes I have ever seen. And his mind… I have never sensed any mind so powerful before. I want to go to him, touch him… be near him. It is so strange… I have never felt this way about a man before. Women, yes. They seem to be attracted to me, for some reason. Often, they see something in me that isn't there, and I can't make them realise that they are mistaken… that I am not the man they think I am. Not until it's too late. How many times have I not fallen for a girl and hoped that she will still love me when she understands who I really am and what I can do? But they never do… they are disappointed, afraid …
Nick… he knows exactly who and what I am. I can sense more than just sympathy and warmth from him now. He knows what I am thinking. The images and feelings he sends to me… a mixture of loneliness and hopefulness, of fear, love and vulnerability … images of a young, blond boy lying on the floor, curled up into a ball, covering his ears,keeping his eyes closed, screaming … the people standing around him with surprise, puzzlement and curiosity painted all over their faces - and their minds. A blur of voices, colours, feelings. The boy on the floor is sobbing now, crying : "please, ohpleasestopthis … stop … stopthisgoaway…pleasestopit…" I wish I could kneel down beside him, hold him, tell him everything is going to be alright … but I can't move. And suddenly I am back in the lecture hall, and Nick is still watching me from the doorway. I sense turmoil from him. Pain. And joy. Hope.
Slowly, I rise from my chair and walk over to him, positioning myself next to him. He doesn't say anything and neither do I. There's no need. My eyes start scanning the big room again. I watch Dr Joyce Reardon as she bends down to fasten a cable to the socket on the wall to her left. As I watch her, I feel a hand cautiously caressing my wrist. Without looking down, I take Nick's hand in mine. It feels good. I feel… complete.