milliways_bar | (no subject)

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They found another one of the Cortexiphan kids this week: Simon Phillips. He wasn't in Olivia's "class"; he took part in the Wooster trials several states over, and was kicked out after his primary skill turned toward mind reading.

Olivia was the first person he'd met in twenty years who could enter his house and not start a cacophony. Two decades of uncontrolled telepathy, with the Cortexiphan in Olivia's body -- how it triggered a barrier to her thoughts, one Simon couldn't cross for whatever reason -- offering him the only relief.

Two decades of living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, because otherwise, he'd go completely insane from the noise.

Now, she's at a table with a glass of whiskey, studying it with more care than strictly necessary. Her problem, she thinks, has always been finding the so-called "on" switch -- never in turning it off again. Maybe it's time to explore the benefits of both.

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Olivia's mouth quirks; she shrugs, turns a hand over, spreads her fingers.

"I don't know," she says. "It wasn't anything sustained. It was like an electric shock -- it didn't last long enough for me to have conscious control over it."

"Did it come back at all? During the rest of the battle?"

She shakes her head.

"Fire's always been the hardest to access," she says. "One or two of my other abilities are...a little easier. But it's still too unpredictable. I want to be sure."

"Other abilities," she says. "Moving between worlds, I think you told me?"

"Right," she confirms. "And -- there's got to be a better phrase for it. Seeing displaced objects that came from another universe."

A tiny smile.

"It's how I found the Slenderman's tree."

"You told me about that one once, I think ... Just objects, or people too?"

She thinks of Peter, smiling at her with complete unconcern, as a shimmering aura flickers and jumps around him. Her own smile fades.

"Both," she says, a little quieter. "Objects and people."

"Does that happen here? With everybody?"

Michael Copeland would go into rhapsodies about this particular talent, she thinks.

"Once or twice," she says. "When -- "

Another memory emerges.

"Do you remember when you helped me confirm who I was? By trying to trigger an ability the other Olivia wouldn't have?"

"I remember," she says. "And you made it happen then, right?"

Olivia nods.

"The whole bar lit up," she says. "With the Slenderman, I was able to...narrow it down a little more, but it took a lot of effort."

And that was before the Other Side stuck its fingers into her brain.

"So you've got ... would you say you've got a lot of conscious control over that particular ability?"

"Some," she says. "I wouldn't mind having more."

A wry quirk of a smile.

"And it's the only one where I have consistent control."

"The only one of ... is it those three? Crossing between worlds, seeing things that have crossed over, and the pyrokinesis?"

"Four," she corrects. "I exhibited telekinesis once."

Olivia runs a hand through her hair, thinking.

"And sometimes I have little...flashes of things that might be another ability, but who the hell knows if they'll amount to anything."

She nods, rubbing her thumb along her chin again.

"When you have trouble with control," slowly, "is it that you can't make the power do what you want it to, or that it seems to act on its own and you can't stop it?"

Olivia sighs. "More the former," she murmurs. "But..."

A beat's hesitation, as she meets Charlie's eyes.

"We encountered a case recently where someone from the Cortexiphan trials had uncontrollable telepathy. He'd been living in the woods for twenty years to get away from the noise."

Charlie's breath hisses through her teeth. "Damn," she says softly. "Poor bastard."

"Yeah." No louder than Charlie. "My own exposure to Cortexiphan caused some sort of interference; he couldn't read my thoughts. I was the only person in twenty years who didn't cause him pain."

"That sounds a lot more like what my kids back home had to deal with." Very quietly.

Olivia sighs out a curse under her breath, shaking her head. She glances over to her empty glass.

"I can't imagine," she murmurs. "But if I have the chance to avoid something like that..."

"Is telepathy one of those things you've had ... flashes of?"

"No," she says.

The not yet remains unvoiced.

"... but you're worried it might." Subdued. "Yeah."

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