The Telepath's Daughter

Wink

Although child-sized, the things creeping among the headstones didn't really look like children; something was wrong with their joints...the way they moved, the way they articulated at odd angles.

Melinda didn't know what they resembled. She had no reference point with which to compare them, but something prickled in her preternatural awareness. Be careful. Something's not right...

The thought of calling for help was an uncomfortable and constant undercurrent in her mind, but she didn't dare divert any of her energy or abilities into doing so. The little, gnarled creatures with gray, gaping mouths and eager, glistening eyes dragging themselves toward her claimed all her attention. With halting, spidery movements they approached until Melinda took an instinctive step backwards.

That small, involuntary action brought a stop to the little creatures' progress. In the swirling mist and dim starlight, they gathered closer to each other. After an interval of mutual silent observation, one of them (Melinda had begun to think of them as 'graylings') pulled itself forward from the rest. It angled its head to one side, looking like a curious puppy, if the puppy had no fur, prominent bones, walked strangely, and was something you really didn't want to pick up and cuddle.

Play with us. We know lots of games. Play with us.

Melinda sensed the group clustered behind the lead grayling quivering with poorly suppressed anticipation. Her reply was barely a telepathic whisper. No. A thread, a mere hint of hostility began to wind its way through the creatures' emotions.

Why not? We've been waiting so long. So long...Please?

Melinda snugged her quilt tighter around her shoulders. You don't need me to play. There's enough of you on your own.

But it's not the same. We've been waiting for you. It's more fun with someone like you.

Someone like me?

The lead grayling bobbed its head, lips stretching. Someone alive. Warm flesh. Warm thoughts. Its tongue lolled out.

Little Mellie Reid was a remarkable child, but a child nonetheless. The broken, leaning headstones; the gaping mouths that looked half-rotted as they drew closer...it took only a heartbeat for her curiosity to dissipate, replaced by sheer terror. With a strangled whimpering cry, Melinda turned and ran. It didn't matter where. The only direction she was interested in was 'away.'

No! Wait! Don't go!

To her horror, Melinda felt the creatures' thoughts dragging at her. She imagined tendrils of gray, mossy rot twining around her own telepathic senses and pulling her back. She thought she could hear the frantic, crab-like scrabbling of knobby limbs in pursuit.

A survival instinct she'd never had to use before roared to the forefront of her mind. She clamped down on every vestige of her telepathy. Mommy and Daddy had been diligent in teaching her to keep her talents concealed, but what her terrified brain did now was quite different. It felt the way the graylings could recognize and prey on ESP-er skills. It felt their minds seeking and following. So Melinda's brain blanked out her presence to any who could sense her.

In effect, Melinda winked out of psychic existence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mellowed by ancient scotch and the lateness of the hour, Hotch and the doctor carried on a desultory conversation that held more of comfort than revelation.

"Aaron, you know there's a place for you here whenever you're ready. I've made that clear before and nothing's changed."

A weary smile traced Hotch's lips. "Everything's changed, Nathaniel. Maybe you don't notice change the way people do whose life expectancy falls short of your centuries." A speculative look came into the Unit Chief's eyes. "I bet you see patterns and constants that none of the rest of us do. I don't mean the reincarnation thing with personalities encountering each other on some kind of endless loop. I mean the little things that throw me for a loop. That alter life. That surprise me, no matter how many times I tell myself to expect them."

The doctor frowned, adding more lines to an already creased forehead. "What surprises you, Aaron?"

Hotch's sigh was deep, filled with regret. "Jack. My son Jack surprises me. I know kids pull away from their parents, and I've heard all kinds of stories about kids whose parents are in law enforcement deciding to rebel against everything their parents work for." His voice dropped to something quieter, something with a little bit of shame attached to it. "And I know my job and my refusal to give it up has already ruined Jack's childhood...Jack's life...taken his mother's life..."

Aaron, stop.

The doctor's telepathic command, so powerful and unexpected, brought Hotch up short. The old man continued once he'd stopped what he considered a useless foray into guilt. "I need to remind you, child, that I've taken a walk through your mind, your body, your past. I know you and the circumstances that formed you better than you do yourself. And I know the things you've done and the choices you've made."

Hotch squirmed where he sat. For a moment he berated himself for believing he had permission to be vulnerable and weak...and maybe a bit of a whiner...in the old doctor's presence. But Nathaniel's warm smile reassured him.

"Did anyone ever apologize to you, Aaron, for your childhood? For the entire, inclusive experience with all the twists of fate and clashing of personalities?" The doctor paused, peering at his guest as a teacher might with an especially recalcitrant student. When Hotch's answer was a somewhat glazed stare from scotch-bleared eyes, Nathanial nodded. "Thought so. No one is responsible for another person's entire upbringing, young man. Whatever your son turns out to be, you are not the sole author of his life. Yes, you have a tremendous impact on him, just as your father had on yours. But the final outcome...what sort of man he'll be...will depend on so much more."

Hotch sighed and chewed at his bottom lip. "Jack's not happy with me anymore. He's pulling away and resentful of the time we have together. And he's not quite a teenager yet. So the usual hormonal surge that makes teens want to push back against parental authority isn't in play." He looked up at the doctor, unable to keep the pain out of his eyes or his voice. "He'd rather live with his Aunt Jessica then with me. So, it has to be something about me or my work. Something I've already ruined and...Nathaniel? Are you okay?"

The doctor's relaxed posture had gone ramrod straight. His gaze was distant, his head tilting from one side to the other, almost as though he were questing for some scent in the air. "Oh, no." His words came out on a breath.

"Nathaniel?...Nathaniel!"

The doctor's eyes regained their focus as he turned them toward Hotch, his expression sending an icy chill through Aaron's blood.

"The child...Melinda. She's not here anymore. She's...gone."