The Telepath's Daughter

Into the Night

Melinda didn't feel a thing.

She was someplace airless and perfect. The part of her mind that was the center of all things strange and exceptional about her was claiming dominance. Sensory impressions like color, scent, the feel of the pavement beneath the soles of her sneakers...faded. Existence became a pure mathematical expression. Her brain perceived the intricacy of an equation that took everything into account. She recalled asking her father about the inherent fallacies contained in math and realized that what passed for "math" in the world outside her current perceptions wasn't true. It was an approximation of the laws of the universe, but it wasn't right. There was immense satisfaction in knowing she'd been on the correct track when she'd questioned it.

But now she could grasp a reality that no one else had. All the answers. All the connections.

Ohhhh...she breathed. This is what beauty really is...not things you can see or hear or feel...things you can know...

For what seemed like eternity, but wasn't nearly long enough to appreciate the extent of the knowledge arrayed before her, Melinda let herself be immersed in it all. And once she was familiar enough with this new, cerebral landscape, she began to understand anomalies that existed outside her living equation. There were things that had deviated; that didn't conform to the pattern of perfection.

They were everywhere. Like a threat to the purity Melinda knew was the potential they might attain.

I can fix it. I can fix it all.

She felt a thrill as she recognized a variation of the talent she'd inherited from her mother begin to unfurl, but unlike Ana's focused tendrils that sought out emotions from one subject or situation, Melinda realized she could send out dozens of questing feelers. Maybe even hundreds. Ana tended to get overwhelmed and overloaded, but Melinda found she could spread the psychic tendrils wide and accept all the information they brought back with hardly any effort at all. The feelers crept forward, drawn by every inhabitant of the village who harbored a mental quirk, a latent gift, a semi-realized talent.

I can fix them. I can fix them all.

She sensed some resistance surrounding the ones that seemed most needful of her intervention. Puzzled, she pushed at the hastily erected barriers. And knew she could overcome them. Really, no one could stop her now.

With a feeling of sweet anticipation so blissful it made her ache, Melinda nudged the resistance aside. She felt a psychic aftertaste and knew that the doctor and Julio were the forces behind it, but they were spread so thin, they were like fragile gossamer draped over the imperfections that were drawing her. It was no trouble at all, and she was sure they'd be appreciative of what she was about to do. After all, once upon a time she'd fixed Uncle Aaron and...

NO!!!

Melinda didn't feel the impact when Hotch tackled her and swept her up. Not physically. What she felt was in her mind's newfound abilities. The barriers she was pushing aside shielded people she didn't know. She hadn't been warned away from them specifically and that encouraged her. But she'd been told in no uncertain terms that Uncle Aaron was off limits. There was no room for misunderstanding. No loopholes that might let her through. But now, suddenly, in her altered, mental state, as she was reaching out with a power beyond her control, and she felt her godfather's simple, loving presence so close, so immediate, so open. It wasn't like the barriers that Julio and the old doctor were struggling to maintain. Uncle Aaron was like an invitation... Me, Mellie. Take me instead...

The irresistible attraction of Perfect Him, something Melinda had known even from before birth, collided with the ironclad rule that protected him from her. The sheer scope of Melinda's power couldn't stop. Like a nuclear reaction, she split herself into desire and fear and instinct. The psychic flash was as white-hot, as brilliant as the molten surface of the Sun. The reaction pulled back all the tendrils she'd sent questing outward. They wrapped around her and the closest psyches to her: Hotch and Bobby.

There might have been a scream, but it was impossible to tell from whom it might have come.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The old doctor recovered first, but Julio Ruiz took only a few seconds longer to realize the crisis had passed.

The two men trembled, their eyes connecting in a look of stunned disbelief. The Palero priest inhaled a long, shaky breath. That was...was...

That was as close to annihilation as I ever wish to come. But we're alive and... The doctor closed his eyes for a moment, testing the psychic temperature of his town. ...and we're okay. Most of us, anyway. He turned to look at Reid.

The young agent was having trouble keeping his hands from shaking. His face was drawn and pale; his gaze glassy. He might have collapsed to the ground if it weren't for Rossi's strong grip.

The elder agent had been on the verge of following Hotch in the hope of being of some use. He felt like useless baggage in the midst of whatever psychic storm was swirling unseen and unknown around the others. But a parting glance as he was headed out the door brought Rossi back just as Reid's knees had begun to buckle. Dave had decided that propping up someone who was more directly engaged in whatever was happening was about as useful as anything else he'd be likely to do. But now all three of the others looked about as insubstantial as a cloud of ashes. Rossi had no idea why, and he was fed up with being left out.

"If you guys are gonna talk about whatever just happened, think you could let me in on it, too?" There was an edge to Dave's voice that leached any courtesy out of his words. He was getting worried and running out of patience with feeling like an outsider.

The old doctor nodded. "Forgive me. I'm a bit shaken. I need to sit down."

That, more than anything else, tweaked Rossi's worry to an even higher level. Psychic or not, he suddenly had a very bad feeling about Hotch having run off on his own. He glanced toward the hospital door. The night was dark and quiet and peaceful; as gentle a night as could only be found in a small town with minimal traffic. Rossi began to steer Reid toward a chair so that he could go in pursuit of Hotch.

"Mellie..." It was spoken as softly as a wisp of fog, but Reid yanked himself from Dave's grasp and bolted toward the door, disappearing into the darkness just as Hotch had done.

Rossi followed for a few steps, but hesitated. Rushing from one place to another with no idea of what the situation was went against all his years of training. He could handle any number of crises, but he had to know what they were first!

"Will someone please tell me what's going on!!??"

The doctor leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was the first time Rossi had seen the old man look as ancient as his years. "Go to your friend. Priest, go with him. I must stay here and check on my patients. And on the telepath's son. Go."

Julio stumbled once or twice before regaining his usual equilibrium, both psychically and physically. He gave Rossi a light push toward the door.

After a last, concerned glance at the exhausted, withered face of the old doctor, Dave turned and followed Julio

...and Reid

...and Hotch

...into the night.