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Sarah and Sylvia took the train out for the city, and then walked the rest of the way to Mentano Hospital.  Sylvia was a regular, and no one ever questioned her being there.  When they went to see Smith they were told that he was out back near one of the ponds.  Sylvia was a little surprised at this, as he usually only left his room for meals.

They find him on one of the benches, overlooking a pond and the rolling hills that make up the back acreage of the hospital grounds.

"Hi."  He says.  His voice seems measured, not the croaky thing Sylvia is used to hearing come out of his mouth.  When her moms mentioned he'd talked to lots of people at the party, she assumed that they thought he'd talked to lots of people.

"Hi," Sylvia says, handing over lunch--Vietnamese take-out, spring rolls and pho.  She performs the courtesy of introductions even though she's already forewarned Smith that she'd be bringing someone.  "Smith, this is Sarah.  Sarah, this is the 800-pound gorilla."

Sarah smiles at Smith and says, "Hi.  It's nice to meet you."  She hands over a brown paper bag to Smith that she'd had under her jacket.  "I brought dessert."
Because you never can tell just how literal Sylvia might be when she says something like 800 lb gorilla.

Inside the bag are a couple of bananas and some chocolate chip cookies.   

Smith gives a slight chuckle and begins to eat, like someone who doesn't get much in the way of food with flavor.  Slow and deliberate.  He savors each bite before moving onto the next.

"So, what exactly do you want me to help you with Sarah?"

Sarah takes a deep breath, and blows it out with a sigh.  "I've got an ability that seems pretty dangerous and I guess I'd like either some advice or maybe just someone to talk with.  Some way to practice and figure it out a bit more would be great.  But practice means..."  she pauses a moment in thought, "Practice means I'm messing with peoples heads and it doesn't seem right.  Is it?"

She looks at Smith and wonders about an 800lb gorilla that hangs out in a mental institute. 

"I thought I just made people forget at first but I'm really writing over their memories.  If you change someone's memories are they really the same person afterwards?"

"You're as bad as Sylvia.  All wrapped up in the moral implications of using your powers."  He munches on another bit of food.  "We are survivalists.  We are hard wired to survive, and every human has the capacity to kill, steal, and worse to survive.  So, the first thing I want you to do is to stop worrying.  All worry will do is slow you down when you need to act."

"As for practice, we can enlist some of the locals.  Most of them are damaged goods, some are just plain badly wired.  To sooth your frail conscience we'll use the people that I routinely think should be removed from the gene pool anyway.  There are a few of them that could benefit from your particular power."

Smith turns his head to look at Sarah for a second.  "That's not something you keep secret."  His voice is flat, it makes him sound dangerous.  "You need to tell someone, before you or someone you care about gets hurt."

Behind Sarah, Sylvia looks momentarily troubled.  She remembers witches.


"What?" Sylvia says, attentive again.  Then she blinks and remembers telepathic etiquette.  "Oh.  Sorry."

"I'm all over it sir," says Sarah.  "I mean I'm going to take care of everything and let people know." 

Geesh a guy who can just pick that up standing right next to you really is an 800.. picks up thoughts... right.  Sorry Smith.  I just have a pretty extensive internal monologue and that's usually not a problem and it helps me work things out but I'll really try and tone it down around you, even though reading thoughts without asking is kind of rude but then again I suppose from your side not shielding your thoughts is totally rude so I guess... oh still doing it huh?  Sorry.

"I do worry.  It's what teenagers do anyway.  We dwell in our rooms staring at the ceiling and contemplating every little thing and bounce from agonizing over the misuse of our planets resources and flow right into how unjust it is that mom and dad wont let us use their sports car to go to a party.  But lucky for me I get over things pretty quickly.  Um... so whose brain needs fixing?"  

See?  Told ya. 

No.  On second thought, I need a reason to go outside.  I'll take care of it.  It's the least I can do for a friend of Sylvia.

"Let's go for a walk."  Smith gets up and leads the girls around to a common sun room.  There they see a number of patients sitting, watching TV, playing games, and some just sitting alone staring at the walls.  No one seems to notice the three of them, not even the staff.

"The kid over there, on the couch."  Smith indicates a young man, perhaps twenty.  He looks blankly into the world.  "He's mostly not here.  Killed his fiance in a car accident, and it's killing him.  Part of your problem is going to be how do you adjust memory without being able to look at them.  So, you need to get the story from him.  To do that, you need to make him remember you as someone he'd talk to.  Then, once he tells you the tale, you have to feed it back to him, adjusted just enough that he wont be guilty over the accident, but that somehow fits with the facts."  Smith puts a hand on her shoulder, "Piece of cake."

Sarah gives Smith her best Deer in the Headlights look.  "Sure.  Piece of Cake," she says nervously. 
She looks over at Sylvia with a worried expression.  "Wish me luck?"  Looking back at Smith she asks, "Oh.  Um, what is his name?"

She walks over to the man and sits next to him on the couch.  She smiled kindly at him and spoke with her power.
"Hi.  It's me Sarah.  You remember me.  We're the best of friends and you've been hoping that I might show up someday so you could talk about it.  Tell me all about the accident."

Sylvia looks troubled and almost disapproving.  How long has he been in here? she asks Smith.

Committed himself about two years ago.  The accident was about five years back.  He was in a downward spiral, now he's here.


The young man turns his head to her, and smile touches his lips.  "Sarah.  I was hoping you'd show up.  There isn't anyone here I can talk to."  He sits with her and tells her all about the accident.  His description is remarkably detailed, like it's the sum of his whole world.  He thinks that because he looked away to steal a glance of Bridgette, he caused the accident.  When he's done he goes back to looking into her eyes.  "I just don't know what to do."

Sarah swallows and wipes a tear away from the corner of her eye.  She sniffs and smiles at him.  She says, "It's going to be okay.  You've already done the right thing.  You came here to get help with your grief.  Losing Bridgette was terrible and for a long while you've been blaming yourself.  Being here has helped you realize that it wasn't your fault at all.  Glancing at your fiance didn't cause the accident.  You had already turned back to watching the road when everything happened.  Then it all happened so fast and she was..."  Sarah took a breath and said, "she was gone.  You remember the last wonderful look you shared.  It burned into your memory and because you were driving you've felt responsible.  You realize now that it's never been your fault.  If you'd had your eyes on the road every moment since you started the car the accident still would have happened.  Losing her is a terrible terrible thing but you can start to heal now.  Get back in touch with your family.  Start living your life.  It's there waiting for you.  You know she doesn't blame you.  You know she loves you and wants you to have a happy wonderful life.  She would be so sad to see you trapped in here."  She taps his forehead. 

Sarah sits back to see if her magic did any good. 

Sylvia, that same thoughtful look on her face, begins to work her own magic.  Peace.  Peace is what she gives him.  And hope.

"It's been really nice seeing you again Sarah."  He says.  He looks around the room.  "I need to go see doctor Collins about getting out of here though.  I'll call you."  He gives her a quick shoulder hug and heads out of the room.  Near the door he stops, turning to look at her, then he turns to look at Smith, who is looking at him.  There is a moment, then he smiles and turns to leave.

Sarah heads over to Smith and Sylvia.  She looks at Smith and asks, "How did I do coach?"

"Fine.  You forgot to tell him to forget about you though.  Little detail, for a first time you did fine."

Sarah nods, "Yeah that part is probably kind of important.  I don't want to write myself into everyone's lives.  I really liked that.  I mean I brought someone back to their life."

She looked worried for a moment and asked, "Does he have an okay life?  I mean he and his fiance weren't running from the police or anything were they?"

Smith looks at her.  "You probably should have asked that, you'll remember for next time though."  He walks out of the sun room and wits for them to follow.  "God is in the details.  I know that's not how the phrase usually goes, but for this it is.  Any gaps you leave behind might cause your work to be undone.  The human mind has a remarkable ability to correct itself when it comes to memory."

Sarah trails along.  Trying to store this information into long term memory.  Ask questions first.

"Is there anyone else I could help today?"

"That's where we're going next."  Smith says.  They walk out of the normal hospital area into a section of the facility that is more offices.  The sign on the door reads Charles Dent, Director of Clinical Research.  "This guy has a problem, it's gnawing at him from the inside.  You should go in there, make him think you're someone he trusts, then find out what it is and see if you can fix it.  Don't forget to make him forget the conversation, and you."

What I'd like to know, Sylvia asks Smith, is why, if you knew about all this, you didn't do something about it yourself.

I don't care.  Did you forget who you're dealing with?

I wonder if Sarah could fix you, Sylvia says impudently.

Memories are all I have, they're what makes me want to keep breathing, but also what makes me want to stop.  I appreciate the thought though.  A smile curls his lips somewhat, and Sylvia is almost certain it's sincere, otherwise she would have thought it looked more natural on him.

Sarah nods and asks, "No hint at what's gnawing at him?"

She shrugs and says, "So the Doc's get messed up too huh?  I'm kind of glad I don't know what's going on in everyone's minds all the time.  I mean I think a thousand things every minute and I don't really mean most of them.  I think things like I hate someone or something and I don't really.  I mean do you pick up on every time someone sees you and thinks, 'Oh great, I have to deal with him.'?  Or you find out you've got paper stuck to your shoe even though no one said a word they just kind of smirked in their heads as you went by?"

Sarah shuts up after realizing she's not exactly being polite in pointing out something like that.  After a moments reflection she nods.  "Oh.  I guess that's why you're in here?  At least here most everyone admits they're crazy or are so lost in their own worlds that they aren't even thinking about you or anyone else."

Sarah carries on thinking as she heads to the office,
The thought of walking down the street picking up thoughts like people considering murder or violence.  Probably most would never carry any of their thoughts out but you'd still know...

She turns after remembering, "Sorry" she offers to Smith.  She smiles at Sylvia, "Thanks for getting me some training.  I'll be back as quick as I can."

"Not to mention all the times you're having some kind of deep conversation with your boyfriend and he's really thinking about your boobs.  Or somebody else's boobs."  Sylvia pauses.  "Forget I said that."


Sylvia nods and smiles encouragingly.  Good luck, she tells Sarah.

"I'm thinking of leaving."  Smith says to Sylvia.  "Maybe getting an apartment in the city, taking some dull job somewhere for a while to try and remember what it's like to live among people who get to pick their own cloths."

Sylvia almost answers in telepathy before she realizes Smith said that aloud.  "Seriously?  What would you do?"

"Perky cruise director comes to mind."  He takes a seat on the bench in the hall.  "Lorraine says there is a job at her restraunt, washing dishes."

Sylvia blinks and blinks again.  A flood of questions rush into her head, jostling for preeminence.  "Lorraine?  Who's Lorraine?"  She was careful to give the guys their space at Mitzi's potluck.  Curious as she was, she knew no one needed a prying teenage girl around at what was supposed to be a function for grown-ups.  She made sure to clear out before Jack and Smith started cruising the (knitting, organic-gardening) singles scene.

"She was one of the ladies at your mom's party.  Intelligent, not weak minded, she's a chef.  She has a very ordered mind, very well structured.  She said that if I wanted to get out of the asylum she'd give me a job, and help look after me."  He looks at Sylvia.  "I didn't mention that I already have a part-time social worker."

"Help look after you?"  Suddenly Sylvia feels maternal, protective.  "You met her once.  Did you--?  I mean, what--where'd you go after the party?"

"I can learn a lot about a person by meeting them once.  And you can relax, we didn't go anywhere after the party.  We spent some time talking.  I sort of gave her a scare, but I fixed that.  I think if I want out of here, I need to go sometime, right?"

Sylvia nods.  A small, childish voice in her clamors that this is the beginning of the end, that Smith might find himself a job and an apartment and a life, and that she might never see him again.  Guys like Smith don't write Christmas cards.  They disappear into the night, and the next time you see them, it's ten years later on fuzzy security footage from a presidential assassination.

She ruthlessly suppresses her anxieties.

"How'd you scare her?  And how'd you fix it?"

"I told her what I was, and she actually heard what I said.  Kind of rare for me.  Then after we talked some I edited her memory a little.  Kind of common for me."  He looks at his hands.  "Maybe I'm not really ready.  It's quiet here comfortable.  There's a lot of noise out there."

"You have to try," Sylvia says.  "You could go out there and try it, and if you don't like it, nothing stops you from coming back, right?"  She wants the best for him.  She really does.  And a life spent in monastic solitude in an asylum seems like a sad ending for a man who could have anything he wants.  "What have you got to lose?"

Sarah closes the doctor's office door behind her and smiles at Sylvia and Smith.  "I think I'm on a roll.  I even remembered to remind him not to remember.  Did that make sense?" 
She shrugs and grins. 

"Okay."  Smith says, rising from the bench.  "That's all for today.  Try practicing on your parents and friends, just to stay sharp.  I'm sure we'll talk again."

Sarah stares at Smith open mouthed.  "Wha??  Are you serious?"

She looks at Sylvia, "He's joking right?"
She looks back at Smith and says positively, "You're joking."
She lookst back at Sylvia, "Is he joking?"

Sylvia shrugs and rolls her eyes.  "Remember, he's been living in a mental ward so long he doesn't know who Britney Spears is.  Everything he says is crazy."

"Yes I was joking.  And, for the record you two sought my advice.  So, if there are crazy people in this conversation, it's not only me."

"We're young and impressionable.  We can't be held accountable for our actions."

"Right.  Rub that in.  Remind me to erase your memory when you're older."

Sarah grins at Smith.  She says,"Don't worry about Britney she's history anyway.  Though seriously if there was someones head that needed fixing..."

She spins to Sylvia, "Quick! To Hollywood!"