greatamazingfeelingsboy

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rosie wilson

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timed to early April?

Therapy with Dr. Fuller has scaled back to twice a month, instead of once a week. He's been talking to his boss at the auto shop about picking up more hours once classes let out, but for now, that's still part time, too. So he's got a little more free time on his hands than he had even last month, and he's filled it with Neil, sports, and, oh yeah, meditating with an actual Jedi.

If anyone had told him last year his life would be like this now, he wouldn't believe them.

Well, he would, because he'd feel their conviction, but that's not the point.

The point is, he's just left Obi-Wan's, and while it's not like he feels wrecked like he sometimes does after therapy, he definitely feels a little raw, and he finds himself wanting something gentle on the empathy.

Someone gentle on it.

He pulls out his phone and types out u busy? before sending it to Rosie. A moment later, he adds, Meet me at the park? He doesn't want to go back to his apartment, and he doesn't want to be alone, and the gentle, soft, cloud-gray of Rosie's feelings sound really, really nice right now.

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Rosie's just leaving Anne's when she gets the message, that same strange combination of exhaustion and confidence she always feels after one of their meetings filling her up now. She's learned a bit, and talked about a little more, since the first time they met to do this; how to identify a threat, and neutralize it, whether by deflection or instinct or the necessary need to turn things physical. How to find a kind of strength in herself to deal with it all. It's not what she thought she might've learned from someone like Anne Bonny, and exactly what she imagined, and Rosie's left absurdly glad for that strange beachfront encounter they'd had on a late and terrible night almost a year ago.

Not any more I'm not, she replies, smiling as Caleb's second text comes through. I'm at highgate, see who gets there first!!

Tired though she is, Rosie covers the few blocks to the park quickly, crossing into the green and tree-lined space and starting to look around for Caleb.

Caleb's already closer to the park than he his his apartment, but when he parks and checks his phone, he frowns, then laughs.

Wtf, I should have just told you to stay there LOL, he sends. He's kidding; the idea of hanging out in the open air is still better than the idea of sitting in his apartment, and he's glad he didn't realize until it was, essentially, too late.

He's still looking at his phone as he walks away from his car, but he can feel Rosie up ahead, and his shoulders are already starting to relax. He debates, briefly, sneaking up on her and grabbing her in a hug — except she literally just got out of self-defense with a fucking pirate, and he's not stupid.

"Hey," he calls, and tucks his phone away.

ha guess neither of us were thinking, she replies, already halfway to the park when she sees Caleb's reply. They could go back, but she doesn't think either of them really want to. Not on a day like this.

She finds a spot half in the shade of a tree, about to sit down when she hears Caleb's voice behind her and turns. "Hey," she echoes, smiling brightly at the sight of him. "It's brilliantly warm out today, isn't it? I think spring might actually be here."

"Don't jinx it," he warns playfully. "This place is similar enough to Boston, so I wouldn't be surprised if the weather changes were the same, too." When he's close enough, he slings an arm around her. That gray cotton candy spins its way into his ribs and makes him feel floaty. He knows instantly this was the right choice.

He should probably talk to Obi-Wan about the connotation of using people's emotions to feel better. But that's a thought for another time. For now, he breaks the quick half-hug to shrug his coat off. Light as it is, it's still definitely too nice to justify wearing it. And this way, he can lay it down and Rosie can sit on it without getting grass stains on her own clothes.

"Is it?" she says, leaning into him as he puts his arm around her. "I've heard people say New Jersey before, but not Boston. Not that I'd know for sure about either, but that's another issue." It was warning enough that it was Darrow, maybe, although the surprises it usually had in store weren't as normal as the weather suddenly changing from one day to the next.

They pick a spot on the grass, and Rosie's about to sit when Caleb sweeps his coat off and lays it on the ground. It's completely unexpected, oddly chivalrous, and she gives him just the slightest sidelong look, her eyebrows raised.

When she looks at him like that, he raises his eyebrows innocently. "What? Grass stains are hard to get out. I'm trying to be nice."

Her feelings are surprised and maybe a little playfully suspicious, which really just confirms that this was the right choice today. They chase through his limbs and wake up his fingers and toes, and he takes a half-step back instead of leaning in to give her a big bear hug like he wants to.

"I play football," he reminds, as though being weird about it will reassure her that he totally isn't being weird. "Grass stains and I are very familiar with one another."

"Right, you play American football," she says, with a pointed and teasing emphasis. "You're not a...gentleman knight or something from a storybook, with all that ridiculous chivalry and everything." Even so, she settles onto his spread-out coat, looking up at him as he steps back and fidgets.

"Oh, fine, this is actually really comfortable."

He grins when she admits that it's better than sitting on grass, and it helps him relax.

"Actually, my high school football team was called the Knights," he says, faux-haughty as he settles down beside her. "So technically, I am a knight, so I get to be all ridiculous chivalry whenever I want." He sticks his tongue out at her, very maturely.

"Are you saying that because it's true, or because it makes for a good argument and you know there's no way for me to go to Boston and check?" She snorts when he sticks his tongue out at her, leaning back just slightly as she gets more comfortable on the ground. "I'm only saying, it's awfully convenient."

"Oh, shit, no, that's legit," he says, laughing. He doesn't have his stuff from home, so he can't tell show her his student ID, but he adds, "I actually had kind of the same argument with Adam, once. Before he knew about my ability, I mean. He was like, 'Just because our school mascot's a knight doesn't mean you have to be a knight in shining armor.'" He doesn't do an impression or anything, but just thinking about Adam like this, in much less abstract ways than he usually does now that he's with Neil, has his smile fading, and he looks down at his knee.

His cheerfulness fades the more he talks about Adam, an expression on his face she's seen less and less now that he's with Neil--but that still happens, because how could it not? He's still left someone behind, just as Nick's gone and left her, and no matter how happy they might be in the moment neither of those things stop being true.

"I won't say he didn't have a point," she says, her smile a little softer as she leans to the side, nudging his shoulder gently. "But that's not really what matters, I guess."

His smile is a little wan, but he appreciates Rosie trying to perk him up. He leans over and meets her nudge.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to, like," he starts, then sighs. "I'm okay."

"Okay," she says, choosing not to pry any further. She leans her head back, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sun as it filters through the trees. "How was your...meditation thing today?"

"Mindfulness exercise," he corrects. "I can't start thinking of it as meditation. Meditation is boring." This, at least, isn't. Maybe because Obi-Wan is also empathic, or maybe because his efforts are a lot more earnest now. He isn't sure.

"It was good, though. Sometimes it leaves me feeling a little... I dunno, bruised?" He makes a face, looking at her. "That's as close as I can figure how to describe it, at least."

"Mindfulness exercise, my mistake," she says, mock-petulantly before she grins. She does listen to the more serious explanation, considering it in full, glancing over at him and catching the face he makes. "That makes sense, I think," she says. "Some days I leave Anne's and I'm more...not unsettled, really, but wary. Like I can't stop thinking about what this kind of self-defense is designed to be used for."

"Yeah," Caleb says, relaxing down to lounge beside her. "It, like, opens up a part of you that you don't normally acknowledge. Or you try not to, anyway." He looks over at her, gently feeling for that wariness. It's not there, today. Today, she feels unstoppable. He smiles, small and fond, and looks back up at the tree above them.

"Exactly." She catches that look of his, the concern and the slight distance in his eyes that always signals when he's using his ability, and when he tunes back in and smiles at her, she does too. "I don't think I'd ever tell Anne it feels like that," she admits. "Not because I'm embarrassed, not at all, but I'm not sure she'd understand. It's not..." She laughs, lying back fully on Caleb's coat. "This is bonkers, but it doesn't seem piraty enough."

She laughs again, shading her eyes with one hand as she looks up at Caleb. "He's from space, isn't he?" she asks. "Your mindfulness teacher, or whatever you call him. I know people come here from all over, but...space."

"Obi-Wan," he offers, in case Rosie either doesn't know or has forgotten. "Yeah, he is. Shit... I hadn't really thought about that." Since meeting Obi-Wan, it'd seemed more like meeting a movie star. Since, well, he kinda was. Where Caleb's from, at least, he's famous. He hadn't really thought about the facts of him. And then he'd started training Caleb, and Caleb had forgotten about some of those facts.

"I wonder if he misses it," he says. He drops from his lounge until he's laying beside her, so she doesn't have to look up anymore.

"See, even his name sounds like he's from another world," Rosie says. Whether Caleb's told it to her or not before now, she can't remember; not that it matters much either way. She closes her eyes, focusing on the queer pinkish light that fills her vision as the sun hits her eyelids. "I bet he does miss it. Wouldn't you, if you were from another planet entirely?"

"I miss it and I'm not," he points out with a laugh, turning his head to look at her. "But, no, yeah, of course," he adds. "He could travel from place to place, see all sorts of things. It's got to be hard, being just stuck here when you've had literally a whole galaxy to explore. But... he actually seems to be enjoying himself for now?"

Obi-Wan is a much more accomplished, controlled empath than Caleb is, thanks to his years training with the Force, so he could be just... hiding it, he supposes. But his interest in the city is genuine. His curiosity is genuine. Empaths can't fake emotions any better than anyone else can.

"That's something," she agrees, settling a little further, shifting her position slightly to get more comfortable. Despite the layer of Caleb's coat and the soft grass underneath, the ground is still hard--though better that, she thinks, than wet and muddy. "And there's enough excitement in Darrow even if you can't actually go anywhere. Not permanently, anyway."

She remembers what it had been like to go to Jamie's island, or for Neil to get whisked away to an England even further in the past than hers had been. They'd been adventures, certainly, but for Rosie, at least, not ones she'd ever want to repeat.

"That's still so crazy to me," he says with a laugh. He can barely imagine going back to Boston anytime soon. He definitely can't imagine going somewhere else entirely for a few days, only to, what, slingshot back here? "And that's coming from someone who's been a girl for a week," he adds.

"I would say that morning you came to the apartment was the strangest day of my entire life, but that's not true, and it was a hundred times stranger for you." Rosie shakes her head and grins, remembering how unnerved he'd been--how unnerved both of them had been. At least when it happened to Charlie, and then again to Neil, she'd had experience dealing with it.

"I don't know what I'd do if it happened to me."

"At least you live with a guy," he points out. "You could just borrow Neil's clothes, if it did." He doesn't think Rosie, as a guy, would be much taller or broader than she is now. Maybe a little, but probably not too large for any of Neil's clothes, so she wouldn't have to wear her own clothes to try to go out to buy something that'll fit.

"I totally still have my girl clothes," he admits, blushing. "Just in case it happens again."

Rosie turns towards him and away from the sun just enough to open her eyes without blinding herself, the expression on her face one of bemused, affectionate incredulity. "Caleb," she says, looking up at him. "I can fairly safely say that borrowing clothing from Neil is not the part I'd be least able to make sense of in that situation."

Through some miracle, she manages to get through it all without laughing, but only just. It spills out of her a moment later, long and loud and delighted, and by the time she's finished she's a little out of breath.

"Oh, good grief."

Her amusement and joy bubble out of her and into him, silvery clouds turning a warm, golden yellow that dances into him. He can't help but laugh, too, caught up in it, soaring on it. By choice. He can choose to ease off of it, now, but he doesn't. He just rides it with her, laughing partly because of her remark, but partly because of her laughter.

As it fades down inside him, he turns to face her and props his head on his hand. Before he can say anything, though, he catches the feelings of someone nearby — unfamiliar, but warm and amused and, strangely enough, fond. He glances over at them. It's an older woman, walking with her dog. Caleb blushes as he realizes she feels this way because she thinks he and Rosie are together.

She sees him start to say something, then get distracted, his focus sliding up towards some point in the distance behind her. As surreptitiously as she can, she glances over her shoulder. "What?" she says, looking back at him when all she can see is a woman and her dog a few feet away. "What's she feeling?"

"Huh?" he says, turning back to Rosie. "Oh, um." He almost doesn't want to say, but decides it's better not to keep it from her. "It's a combination of things, actually. She's, like, fond, and kind of amused, and..." He trails off, eyes going a little unfocused. "Oh. And... I think that's nostalgia? It's, like... Warm, and happy, but also sad and a little lonely." He clears his throat and adds in a whisper, "I think she thinks we're together, and it's, like... reminding her of when she had someone?"

Rosie's always a little entertained by asking him to describe the feelings he gets from others, watching the effort on his face as he tries to put something that intangible into words. Even when he can't quite do it, the fact he tries is enough.

"Oh," she says sympathetically when he starts, glancing back at the woman again to see if she can see any trace of the feelings Caleb describes in the way she walks or the angle of her posture. It's not as clear to her, though she hadn't exactly expected it to be. When he clears his throat, she looks back, and the conspiratorial whisper that follows has her blushing. "Oh, she doesn't," she says, delighted and scandalized all at once. "You really think so?"

"Hey, who's the empath, here?" he points out, but he's smiling, even as he's blushing a little, too. The woman is getting further away, now, and as she does, her feelings fade. He looks at Rosie, then gestures between them. "We don't really look that couple-y, do we?"

"As you keep reminding me, Mr. Michaels," she teases, "empathy means you can feel people's feelings, not read minds." Rosie rolls her eyes at him and giggles, only to laugh a little harder when he gestures between them. "I don't think we do, do you? I mean, we're just here in the park like anyone else."

She lets out a sigh then, one that's a little harder than she'd expected. "Not that the truth's stopped assumptions like that before, of course."

"Yeah, but, those are from shitty kids," he points out. "Not random old ladies walking alone through the park." He looks off to where the woman disappeared around the curve of the path. "I dunno, I've felt nostalgia before, but not like that. There was a lot, there." He could probably go through it, if he wanted to, but does it really matter anymore?

"I didn't say they were the same," she points out in turn, but lets the mild debate go before it really gets started. Caleb's argument is the better one, anyway, and she follows the turn of his head as he looks towards the now-empty path. "Well, even if she was wrong, if it made her happy to see it I suppose it wasn't all bad."

She lies back again on his coat, under the warmth of the sun, and smiles. "We'll have some kind of...secret life, all in her head."

"We're totally different people, in her head," he agrees. He settles down beside her, until their shoulders are just barely touching. "Maybe you're even American in her head," he adds with a mock-scandalized gasp.

"Caleb, how dare you," Rosie says, feigning an equal amount of horror. "I think that's the worst thing you've ever said to me."

Eyes still closed against the sunlight, she grins. "I wonder who I'd be, if I was American. Where I'd be from. I always wanted to visit."

Caleb snickers, her feelings dancing through him. "I dunno, you've always given me this kind of New England vibe, I guess," he admits. "Like Neil, y'know? Vermont-y, kinda. Maybe 'cause you're both from similar time periods."

"Maybe," she agrees. "I have wondered before, actually, what it might've been like if we met back home somehow. If we'd have been friends there the same as we are here, or something."

Saying it now is easy, when things are bright and warm and they're having a good time, but Rosie knows--she's not sure if Caleb does, but she knows--that even if she finds her way to Vermont, the most she'll probably ever find of Neil is a headstone. It still isn't fair.

"I think we would be."

Unwittingly, Caleb has the same thought, and he refuses to dampen the moment by mentioning it. He smiles over at her.

"I think you would be, too," he says. "Except now I'm trying to picture you with an American accent, and it's about as weird as trying to picture myself with a British one."

"Oh, that would be weird," she agrees. "Either way. We wouldn't sound like ourselves at all." Rosie concentrates hard, trying to figure out how to flatten her accent, change it into something more like Caleb's or Sabrina's, Charlie's or Neil's. "I'm the American Rosie Wilson," she says when she think she's worked it out, and it doesn't even sound right, not by half. "Howdy, partner."

She snorts, once, then lets out another delighted spill of laughter. "Oh my god, that was horrible."

"Oh my god," he says, laughing. "You're lucky I already know I can't do a British accent, so I'm not even gonna try." He'd done the whole Monty Python thing, and Alice had teased him relentlessly about the shitiness of his accent. (Hers isn't much better, but even he can admit it's better.)

"Coward," she says, one eyebrow lifting even as she keeps her eyes closed against the glare of the sun. "I knew I was going to be terrible at it and I did it anyway. It's not like I'm going to tell the Queen and have you sent to the Tower."

She pretends to think about it. "Although maybe if it's very bad..."

"Whoa!" he yelps, laughing at the fight in her words, however playful. "Fine, Jesus, okay!" He clears his throat and, in a not-quite-terrible, weirdly Scottish accent, says, "Hi there, American Rosie, I'm British Caleb, and you'd better not tell the bloody Queen." He breaks into snickers and covers his face with his hands.

Rosie's quiet for a long time after Caleb speaks, long enough that his laughter peters away and there's only the faint sounds of the park and the wind through the trees around them. "Well," she says finally. She tries to make it serious, even appalled, but the corner of her mouth curls up in a grin. "You did warn me it was bad, but I wasn't expecting that."

It's long enough that he actually starts to wonder if he's offended her somehow, as if her feelings wouldn't tell him so immediately, and he's halfway to a wince when she finally speaks.

"Ouch," he says with another laugh. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad," she says mock-gravely. It's not as easy to trick him, when he can read her feelings so well, but that doesn't mean she can't play with it a little. "Thankfully, you have other redeeming qualities."

He rolls his eyes, playful and amused. "Oh, okay," he says, and reaches over to give her a gentle shove — which does nothing, since they're both laying down anyway.

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