Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written 2008.- Licia

Neither child heard their mother, and after a moment, Tim extinguished the flames with a flick of his wrist.

Sarah giggled, before flexing her fingers and flicking her wrist; the books on her shelves rose, floating towards her, and after a moment, she twirled her index finger, causing each book to open. Kathleen watched in silence, having hurried to cover her mouth, as she leaned against the slightly opened door...

And promptly stumbled through it into her daughter's room.

The books shut and fell to the floor, and the sparks Tim had been conjuring between his hands died out, as both children turned to their mother. Sarah stood, kneeling down and grabbing the books now lying on the floor. "Mom! What... what are you... you're home early..."

"And... so are you, Timothy." Kathleen replied, turning to her son. "I thought... I thought winter holiday wasn't for another week."

"They... let us out early." He replied sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "How.. how much of that did you see?" Kathleen raised an eyebrow, and her son sighed. "All of it?"

"All of it." A soft sigh escaped her throat, and she took a seat between her children on the bed. "When did this... start?" She gestured to the books Sarah had set on her desk. Tim glanced at his sister.

"In full? After I turned sixteen."

Sarah nodded. "Me, too."

"But... I think I've always been able to do things like this." He wrung his hands, not meeting his mother's gaze. "When the storm took the lights out when I was twelve and I went to get candles?" Kathleen nodded; she remembered that night. The storm had downed power lines for days. "I found the candles but no matches. And... all I thought about was... was wanting to find a light for the candles and..." Kathleen choked on a gasp as small flames flicked from her son's fingertips. "That was when I first realized what was happening."

"And... and it's only fire?"

Sarah shook her head. "No. We can do all sorts of things, Mama." Kathleen furrowed a brow. "Watch." The teenager pulled her legs up beneath her and cupped her hands. A moment passed, and soon, Kathleen was watching her only daughter hold a small galaxy within her cupped palms. It glowed and spun slowly, capturing Kathleen's attention. The paramedic leaned closer, studying it. There was no way what she was seeing was real... "Timmy can do it to, Mama, but he'd rather play with fire."

At that, their mother turned to her son, who had by then flicked his wrist, extinguishing the small flames and held up his hands in defense. "I'm not a pyromaniac, Mama, I swear." Slowly, Kathleen turned back to her daughter, watching as Sarah slowly closed her hands; when she opened them again, the small universe she'd held was gone.

A sigh escaped Kathleen's throat as she studied each of her children. "I have no idea how we're going to explain this to your father."

To say that John McGee was surprised to discover his children could perform magic... was the biggest understatement of the century. It had taken a long talk, and several demonstrations before the good doctor would even consider believing what his family was telling him.

"We have no idea where they came from other than possibly Ireland, John. It's a very real possibility-"

"What, that our children could be from some... alternate dimension?" He continued setting the table.

"No. But... we know next to nothing about their childhood before they came to us. For all we know, their parents could have been practitioners of-"

"Witchcraft?" He stopped setting the table under Kathleen's glare. "What?"

"This is not Harry Potter." She replied, as Sarah and Tim entered the kitchen. Tim poured himself a cup of coffee and Sarah removed the lid from the cookie jar. Tim set his mug down, slipping in front of his sister to grab the bread for dinner, and Sarah groaned softly. A moment passed, before both Kathleen and John looked up to find the jar levitating off the counter. A single gingersnap floated out of the container before the lid returned and it settled back in its spot. Sarah reached out to grab it, when Tim beat her to it.

"Hey! 'twas mine!" Her brother chuckled, even as she punched him hard in the arm.

"Watch it, pipsqueak, unless you want the ends of your hair-" With a flex of his fingers, small flames danced once more, and Kathleen moved between her children, quickly breaking up the fight.

"That's enough, both of you." She snatched the cookie out of Tim's hand, and raised an eyebrow; the boy quickly flicked his wrist. "Now stop it. Let your father get... used to the idea." She bit into the gingersnap, and both children protested, as she returned to fixing dinner. "You both know the rules. No sweets before dinner. They'll ruin your appetite."

"How can you be so... accepting of this, Katlee?" She settled beside him on the sofa, a cup of coffee in her hands. Dinner had been a lively affair, with both Tim and Sarah explaining that from the time they were little, they'd been able to do things- but neither had realized what it'd meant. It was the one thing about their childhood before they came to the McGees that they really remembered- strange things would happen whenever they were around. And that as they'd gotten older, things had gotten stranger- if they thought about something, it would happen; if they whispered something under their breath, it came true. If they wanted something and couldn't get it, but thought about it, it would come to them.

"It's almost like... like we're... fairies or witches or something." Sarah had said over dinner. Tim had rolled his eyes.

"So what? Do you want to go to a special school, like Hogwarts?"

"If only Hogwarts existed!"

John rubbed his temples. All these new revelations were giving him a headache. "So... what... our children are... magical?"

"Well they do come from Ireland, dear. Ireland is known for its myth and magic." Unbeknownst to the couple, Tim and Sarah were sitting on the stairs, listening intently to their parents' conversation.

"You don't think they'll send us away, do you, Timmy?" He shook his head, wrapping an arm around his sister and pulling her close.

"No. Mom and Dad wouldn't do that. They wanted us too badly, there's no way they'd send us away. They love us."

"Even though we're freaks?" She curled into his side. Her brother sighed, kissing her hair.

"... yeah. Even though we're freaks."