Smile, Tom thought, adding his thoughts to the millions of others that crowded New York City. It was not common for wizards to hear the thoughts of those they are not emotionally close to but when a wizard specialized in research information could come unbidden. Still, hearing the thoughts of everyone who decided to think loudly in a fifteen-foot radius (and growing) was a new development.
Tom had spent the last week wrestling a piece of information from the Lone One. Syllable by syllable it came to him. Spell after spell was constructed. Some of the spells used force, and some used cunning. Tom even seduced the information away from the grasp of It. Tom had done it before and would probably be asked to do it again. The Lone Power was never happy to have information pried from It and Tom had the feeling he was finally paying the price.
The information was haunting but it was no longer his trouble, not directly, once he gave it to the group who asked. Tom had slept in and when he woke up Carl informed him that he needed to take a day off. So they went to the city and the problem grew.
At first it was just a snatch here and there. The nerve. . . a woman would think as the two wizards walked by and Tom would turn. But she was not talking and so Tom could not reply. The day continued like that with weird twitches when some people would pass by the pair who decided to walk in Central Park. Not in the zoo, though.
"Not today," Carl had said. "There might be work there and today we are not going out of our way to find that."
And so they walked. Tom realized that though he was hearing thoughts few—no, none of them were pleasant. And that's when he realized the Lone One had decided to exact It's revenge. Soon Tom realized that no mater how much he could see the worry grow in Carl's face he could not hear the worried thoughts that always accompanied it. Carl was good at hiding his thoughts. But not this good, thought Tom, not from me.
So there they sat in the Thai restaurant making small talk and pretending to enjoy themselves. But Tom could hear only too clearly the thoughts of the man behind him. It's our life! Tom wanted to shout at him but he could not. He tried to think that at least the man was polite enough to keep the comments to himself but it still hurt.
Carl saw the barely touched food on Tom's plate and put a fifty on the table. Tom was trying to protect him from something: an old, bad habit that resurfaced at odd times. Fifty dollars should be more than enough, now come on, Carl thought at Tom. Tom did not hear but he knew Carl well enough to know what he should be hearing. Tom stood up and Carl knew Tom had not heard. Carl put an arm around Tom and Tom relaxed a little. They walked out silently and silently found an ally where Carl set up a transit. I'm not young, Carl thought, but this is an emergency. Whatever fatigue this may cause is worth it. The thought fell dumb as Carl realized that it was not shared.
The soft thunder announced their homecoming but the solemn feel around them warned the pets not to intrude. Carl was out of breath: physically drained. Tom was just as drained emotionally. Half bracing himself, and half supporting Tom, Carl gripped Tom's biceps. Afraid, neither even glanced at the door. The night was welcome.
"Now, tell me what's wrong," Carl said. His voice was soft: concerned.
Tom paused. It was a lengthy pause and would have felt so no mater how long it lasted. "I think It noticed me," Tom finally admitted. "I think It finally decided that I would never let the knowledge cause panic." Tom stopped. He sat down and so did Carl. We're still close, Tom thought. The knowledge lent him strength until he realized that Carl had not heard him. "I think It decided that I should hear all the thoughts It created. All day I've heard people thinking…" Tom swallowed. "They were thinking about us and it hurt. We help them and they… they cannot even accept to respect the choices of those they pass. I always knew but it's so hard. It isn't so much that they don't understand us but after all we worked for so many people…He stopped me from hearing your thoughts too and he stopped you from hearing mine." The thoughts came out slow and choppy. They came out sounding like someone who was not Tom. Tom, the writer, the one good with words.
"We can fix this," Carl said. "We're not young anymore, but we aren't old either. We've been through worse. Nothing so personal, but worse. And don't blame yourself completely. I'm sure It was jumping with joy when It realized that It hit us two wizards with one spell. It missed the bird though."
Tom smiled. Carl knew him too well. Together they lay on the grass and looked at the stars until they fell asleep.
A/N: All reviews and constructive critisism welcome. Yes, this is a oneshot.