Log: Haller and Callie

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The problem with the mansion is that you run into people when you least want it, though this isn't always a bad thing.




The soft glow of the refrigerator was the only light Callie needed as she scrounged around its insides looking for something to eat. She hadn't bothered on turning on any lights to guide her search, partly to conserve electricity, but mostly to avoid being interrupted by other residents. She figured the extra lights would draw them out of the woodwork, for even though it was considerably late, people there had a funny way of still appearing when least expected. Callie didn't want to chat really, maybe some other time, but not now. All she wanted was to grab a quick something to eat and return to her room and get back to playing catch-up.

Sadly, given the disparate schedules of the inhabitants, the odds of finding a time with less than three people awake were on the slim side. By a similar token, it was equally observable that the odds of running into someone else as much as tripled when one set foot in the kitchen. Both of these things were proven an instant later as Callie's quiet evening rummage was interrupted by the kitchen light being flicked on.


"Sorry, I thought some light might help," Jim said, removing his hand from the switch. He gave her an apologetic half-smile. "Well, me, anyway."

The unexpected sound of Haller's voice caused Callie to jump, and hit her head on the shelf above. She rubbed the spot as she stepped away from the refrigerator and stood up to face him. "Hi Mr. Haller," she replied, shutting the door behind her. No use wasting electricity while she was just standing there talking. "Sorry. I was just looking for something to eat."

"Don't worry about it. Same here. Well, drink, really." Jim winced. Callie may have been the one with a slight bump, but he was going to be feeling it in his conscience. Technically he'd been headed out for a smoke, but a minor lie was a small price to pay for an overdue status-check -- especially one that came without a request for an office visit, which had a habit of exacerbating preexisting stress. He moved to a cupboard and began searching for a glass. "How have you been doing? I heard about the incident in Italy. I was actually impressed -- it sounded like it went much better than it could have."

"It was... it was... yeah." Callie scuffed at the floor with her sock-clad foot. She really didn't know what to say. What had happened, happened, and she really didn't want to dwell on it. "I mean it wasn't as bad as everyone seems to think it was?" She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, to be honest, from a staff point of view most of us interpret any type of disappearance as pretty bad, so there's definitely a little bias there. But looking at it objectively, you're right -- you weren't hurt, and at least the people holding you didn't mean you harm. Plus you got out of it without violence, which is definitely an underrated bonus in these situations." Jim extracted a glass and turned to look at her. "But I don't really think that personal intensity is objectively quantifiable. I mean -- is this the first time you've experienced anything like this? Not just being taken, I mean, but the thing at the club beforehand."

"You mean the pipe bomb?" Callie tore her eyes away from the floor and glanced over at Haller. "Yeah. I mean you always hear about these things happening right? But... I don't know I just thought it wouldn't happen to me. I mean I'm the one who's always so cautious, you know? And Clarice..." She sighed, feeling the weight of her conscious on her. She had put her friend in danger, who did that? "I shouldn't have suggested that club."


This response didn't surprise him. Callie's method of dealing with stress was personal deprioritization. If someone else was in the situation with her, it was that person she focused on. If she were alone in it, he suspected she would spend most of her time apologizing to the people around her for being trouble. Jim knew because he shared many of these traits himself. People like them were no trouble to anybody, right up until the point they imploded like a scheduled demolition.

Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Why? There's no way to predict this sort of thing. And I mean that literally, because we've had precognitives at the school, and even they could be surprised." The counselor ducked his head, trying to catch her eyes. "All you did was go out with a friend. Accountability's only for things that were within your responsibility, you know?"

Callie nodded. It made sense what Haller was saying, really it did. There was no reason for her to be beating herself up like this. But she still couldn't shake that feeling of guilt. It wasn't just the fact that she had put Clarice in danger, there was more to it. "I didn't mean to make everyone worry about us," she twisted her hands, anxious about something. She stared off, absorbed in her own thoughts for a few seconds. "My dad and I had a fight."


That was new. The fact that she'd actually volunteered it was even more telling. Jim re-prioritized his approach. "When?" he asked.

"Right before I left." Well that wasn't entirely true. "Well. Right before I started packing actually. He... well he had withdrawn me from school."

Jim nodded. Not dealing much with the actual administrative aspect he hadn't heard that, but it made sense. The school had never had a stellar reputation for traditional safety; their lives and the school's own reputation, both publicly and privately, just didn't make that feasible. It was hard to believe last fall's devastation of Manhattan had helped. Still, he wanted to see where this was going. "Was it the security aspect?" he ventured.

"Well the attacks in the city and then everyone going missing didn't help, so that weighed in. Quite heavily actually." She sighed and pushed her hair back. "It's more than that. He's lonely. His family is near, but he comes home to an empty house. It's not really fair to him. I should have just stayed."


The telepath nodded. "What about you, though? I mean, he's got family there -- do you have friends?"

The question took her by surprise. What did he mean, 'What about her?' "I have my cousins. And the people in my school were nice?"

Jim put the empty glass to his chin reflectively. "But it's different here? Um." He gestured vaguely with his free hand, trying to find the appropriate words. "People come here for a lot of reasons. Feelings of commonality, or specialized training, or, sometimes, because they have nowhere else to go . . ." He gave her a half-smile again."It's an idiosyncratic place, so there's a pretty broad range. It's not actually important, I'm just curious why you chose here." And strongly enough to fight for it.

"Because..." Callie though for a moment. "Because... because I like it here. It's so... different. I guess it's the commonality aspect. I've never felt out of place for looking the way I do." She gestured to her ears for emphasis. "But I feel... I don't know, more accepted?"

Jim smiled. "It's definitely a different vibe," he said. "Despite all the other things that come with it, I think it's the school's best aspect. Emotionally, anyway. Difficult experiences seem less so when you know it's not just you. It's weird, but places like this prove we're not alone in it all -- at least until the rest of the world has a chance to catch up." He lowered the glass. "I'm sorry it lead to a fight, but I'm glad you're happy here, and that you stayed. Life's too short to let good opportunities pass you by just because they might be risky."

He added -- in the privacy of his own mind, because he knew it would be her kneejerk response to think of it as selfish -- And that you realized it was okay to take a stand for what you want when someone else tried to decide it for you.

In spite of everything that she was feeling, the guilt, the grief, the sadness, Callie found herself smiling. Not the strained fake smile she tried to pass off whenever someone was asking how she was doing or how she felt, but one that she actually meant. Nothing had changed, but sometimes just talking about what was going on helped. "Thanks," she said earnestly. "I'm really glad to be back. I am. Thank you Mr. Haller."

The telepath returned her smile -- this time with a rarer full smile rather than his normal half-quirk of the lips. "Don't worry about it. I mean, that's what the place is here for, right?"