Word Count: 1,216

One of the main things I remembered about this was that I was sick.

And not just a normal just-slight-dizzy-sick, it was one of those you-can-hardly-stand-up-to-make-it-to-the-bathroom sick. I was lightheaded, I wasn't thinking too clearly, didn't have an appetite or desire for anything but to sleep.

But this sickness also happened to be around a convention that I had to attend to. Sick or not.

There weren't an overwhelming number of people there (but everything seems overwhelming to a sick person). It was a private convention with a no camera policy due to privacy issues, so at least I didn't have to worry about cameras right in my face every other minute.

Thankfully, I wasn't too needed for anything. So I just sat in the nearest chair and stayed there practically the whole evening. I must have had this quite dazed trance-like look to my face (or, more actually, it was just the sick to my stomach look) otherwise the question from one of the guests would never have been prompted towards me.

Although, he did have to ask the question nearly three times before I realized that he was talking to me.

"Pardon?" I said, in the middle of the repeated question.

The man halted and smiled. He had a nice smile. It was the type of smile that a wolf wears right before he kills the helpless rabbit.

"I was just asking if you were one of the mediums speaking tonight," he said.

"Oh. Yes, I am." I couldn't think of what else to say, besides maybe that I hope I don't throw up on the audience.

"Quite a hard title to uphold. But you manage it, don't you? You and your brother. Is he here tonight, as well?"

He was. And if this guy had read the honored guests, he would know that. But I had a feeling he already did.

So, I opted not to answer.

Since I was silent, the man continued for me. "A strange reputation to pick. You could be a stage magician just as easily, but with a lot less criticism. And you don't have to lie to the poor people."

"Excuse me?" I said, finally looking up at him again, after watching the mingling people in front of me. Skepticism goes long and is deep in the paranormal societies. There's never a way to please them, or to answer their questions as to psychic abilities. They expect a set-up magician's show, don't believe it when told otherwise, and then all they want to do is run tests on you until you're run into the ground.

The man – acted – shocked. "Well, what else would I be talking about? It is a reputation among mediums to prey on the weak, grieving people. Everything you offer to those people is nothing but well-educated answers and offered opinions. Then, of course, you take their money and the service is over."

Money in exchange for a reading and my time is indeed something that I do. But I never accept a check until the session is over; because you never know when you're not going to connect with the spirit. Sometimes they're too far into the astral realms to communicate with. And I'm not going to deal with letting the wrong spirit into my head.

But this was something else that I believed that man didn't need to know.

I sneezed into the cuff of my sleeve. Not because I was an unsanitary person, but because I couldn't get my handkerchief out fast enough. Or maybe I was secretly hoping that I would get to shake the guy's hand and then he would be down for two weeks with the same sickness.

But by the look of the guy's disgusted face, I didn't think I was going to get such a chance.

I stood up, which was a lot harder than normal. My head surged forward and I nearly tipped into the guy.

I was about as tall as he was, so I was able to directly look into his eyes.

When I started talking, I used the same monotonous voice that Noll uses when dealing with stupid people. "Sir, I'm not asking you to believe in anything - it's your own freewill and feelings – but you can't always judge things you know nothing about."

He watched me for a moment, and then said, "Prove it."

I hated those words. They're the same words that followed me and Noll around since our powers started to come into play. All people wanted us to do was to 'prove' we could do it instead of seeing if we can.

The guy smirked at me.

"Don't mock me," I told him.

Maybe it was the feverish tone in my voice. Maybe the over-brightness in my eyes and my too pale skin. Maybe the fact that all the anger of the years those two words were said to me were embedded into the three words I said to him.

Whichever it was, the man backed down.

I turned around and walked away, my head jolting with every step.

I could feel Noll's telepathy link quivering inside my mind underneath the blank fogginess. I could feel him; but couldn't make out any words. Instead I felt the emotions of concern from him. No doubt he had felt the slap of anger coming from me in the last minute.

But I couldn't grasp onto the telepathy link to talk to him. My head was swimming.

So, I went into the hallway and sat down by the wall, pulling my legs up to my chest. I couldn't wait for the whole damn thing to be over.

I felt him approaching before I actually heard his footsteps. He sat down by the wall right next to me, mimicking my sitting position.

Now we looked like a mirror. Well, besides the fact that I looked like I was going to either sneeze, cough, or vomit – or all at the same time.

"And you're letting something like that get to you?" Noll asked in my head, since he was close enough that it came through clear and strong like a foghorn.

I shrugged in response.

"Gene," Noll said, "What does it matter?"

I looked up at him.

"What does it matter what those people think? Since when did you ever need their opinions and approval? Who cares? Why do you feel you need to prove it? Don't you think what we're doing right now is proof enough?"

I sighed. He was right; telepathy wasn't something that everyone could just do off-handedly. In fact, the things that we could do were things that hardly anyone could do.

"What did you tell me the other day? 'The proof always lies in the answer, but people will do with it what they will?'"

I could not honestly remember what I had been talking about, and my words repeated back to me didn't make sense currently.

Noll rapped his knuckles on my head, which is a God awful thing to do to a sick person.

"Get over it and move on," he told me, giving me a smile.

I felt myself smiling back. Later, I'll tell him that I'm blaming this whole outburst on the fever.

And on a different note, I was feeling surprisingly better.