Title:  Chip Off The Old Block V: Felicity

Author:  mimic117

Email:  mimic117@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13 

Category:  S

Spoilers:  Only for the other stories in this series.  You really 
MUST read the first one in order to understand about Charlie.  
If you want to find out how he meets Tracy, that happens in the 
fourth one.

Summary:  There's a perfect someone for everyone, they say.

Keywords:  MSR, Charlie fic, William fic 

Archive:  Most assuredly, thank you.

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  Never have been.  Fun, not profit.

Thanks to bellefleur for her usual sharp eye and deep 
thoughts, and to my Twinsy for vigilant comma patrol.

Dedication:  To lkc, who was as patient and unrelenting as a 
velociraptor in her pursuit of this story.  If this doesn't hold 
ya for a while, I don't know what we're going to do with you.

This story is my tribute to Donna, who has delighted me over 
many years with her characterizations of Charles Scully.  I've 
come to realize that I tried to model the Charlie in this series 
after the ones I've enjoyed in her stories.  She sees him as a 
witty, loving, non-judgmental man who respects his sister, the 
work she does, and the partner who relies on her.  I couldn't 
agree more.  I hope this story will do justice to that vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chip Off The Old Block V: Felicity
by mimic117


"Mulder, don't give that back to him!" Scully shouted.  "It's been 
on the floor!"

Charlie Scully tried to melt into the counter top he was leaning 
against in his mother's kitchen, even though his sister's ire 
wasn't directed at him.  It was always fun to see fireworks, but 
he didn't want to get burned by the sparks.  He watched as 
Mulder placed Will's pacifier on the highchair tray in front of 
his son before turning toward his partner.

"It's okay, Scully.  The three second rule was in force."

"What are you talking about?  What rule?"  

Crossed arms, lowered brows.  She wasn't buying it.

Mulder shuffled his feet nervously.  "You know.  If it hasn't 
been on the floor for more than three seconds, it's not dirty."

Dana's eyebrows shot back up.  Not a good sign.  

"What the hell kind of rule is that?"

"It's a 'guy' rule."  Mulder looked at Charlie.  "Your brother 
knows what I'm talking about.  Don't you?"

Charlie raised his hands in a classic leave-me-out-of-it gesture.  
"Don't make me your accomplice, man.  It's my day off and I've 
got plans." 

Any further argument was forestalled by the entrance of 
Maggie Scully, carrying a handful of folded dish towels.  She 
nudged Charlie out of the way and opened a drawer.  As she 
put the towels inside, she scowled at her daughter, exhibiting a 
good likeness of the one Mulder had just been receiving.

"What is going on in here?  I thought you two needed to make 
your flight."

Scully rolled her eyes.  "It's just the usual difference of 
opinion, Mom.  I dislike it when *some people* --" Mulder hopped 
back a step when she leveled a glare at him "-- don't bother to 
wash William's pacifier off after it's been on the floor.  He 
finds enough dirty things to put in his mouth without any help.  
Mulder thinks I'm making a big deal out of nothing."

Maggie smiled and patted Scully's shoulder in passing as she 
walked to the coffee pot.  "It's okay.  He isn't going to get sick 
from a dropped binkie."  She held up a hand to prevent her 
daughter's protest.  "I'm not taking sides.  You're a doctor and 
I'm sure you know all about germs, but I do have some 
experience with children, you know.  The first child ends up 
with sterilized toys and bleached out blankies.  By the time 
Charlie was born, if he dropped a cookie, I'd brush off the ants 
and give it back.  Children are a lot tougher than they look.  
William will be fine."  Maggie started the coffee brewing, then 
turned, hands on hips, and fixed Scully with a pointed stare.  
"However, I don't like your implication that my kitchen floor is 
dirty."

Charlie really didn't want to let out the laugh that was building 
inside of him, but he was afraid holding it in would make his 
head explode.  Clamping a hand over his mouth, he attempted 
an unobtrusive exit.

Without looking at him, Maggie said, "Charles Andrew, don't 
you dare run off.  I want to talk to you after your sister leaves."

His shoulders slumped.  How did she know, even with her back 
to him?  Granted she was a mother with the requisite "mom 
radar," but sometimes he wondered if she was also psychic 
and simply hadn't told him.

Mulder looked at his watch, then cleared his throat.  "Scully, we 
really need to go."

Charlie had to give him a lot of credit for speaking up.  If he 
read Dana's body language right, she was still mentally 
dissecting Mulder and flinging the bloody hunks into the 
Potomac.  And if he could read Dana, so could Mulder.  Yep, it 
took really big cojones to even stay in the same room when his 
sister was steamed.

Scully threw her hands in the air.  "Fine!  It doesn't matter 
anyway, since you already gave it back to him.  Let's get out of 
here before William sees me slug you."

The irritation in her voice was belied by the tenderness in the 
look she bestowed on her son.  Charlie knew Dana and Mulder 
hadn't gone out of town on cases very often since Will was 
born, and then only for a day or so.  This time, they might be 
gone longer.  Charlie didn't know how they could stand leaving 
him.

Maggie put a hand on Scully's arm.  "Quick like a Band-Aid, 
Dana.  Don't linger."   

"I know."  She cupped William's little face in her hands, 
planting kisses on his cheeks and forehead before she let the 
squirming baby go.  "It just doesn't get any easier."

Maggie smiled wistfully.  "And it never will, if you're lucky."

Mulder managed a couple of quick kisses, dodging flailing 
hands while William swiped at his face.  Mulder waved as he 
followed Scully out of the room.  "Take care, Charlie.  Don't 
levitate anything I wouldn't levitate."

Scully reached back and smacked him on the arm.

"Hey!" Mulder yelped.  "No slugging in front of the kid."

"That wasn't a slug.  It was a slap."

"Was not.  I know the difference between a slug and a slap."

"Keep it up and I'll show you the difference."

Charlie finally gave in to his laughter as their bickering voices 
faded in the direction of the front door.  William started fussing 
in his high chair, straining toward the sound of his parents with 
the high-pitched whine in his throat that meant the imminent 
onset of crying.  His pacifier dropped out of his mouth, back 
onto the floor.

Maggie set a box of Cheerios on the table as she passed.  
"Distract him with a handful while I say goodbye.  I'd better 
mediate before she really does slug him."

Charlie shuddered.  "I'll bet she knows how to hit so it doesn't 
leave a mark."

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised.  I'll be right back.  Then 
we'll talk."

Charlie scooped a little pile of oat rings onto the highchair tray 
just as Will was revving up to high C.  The baby stopped in 
mid-whine and reached for a Cheerio.  He slowly pinched it 
between his index finger and thumb, then carefully guided it 
toward his mouth.  Thank goodness for bottomless baby 
stomachs and short attention spans.  

Cup of coffee in hand, Charlie sat down at the kitchen table.  
He knew what his mother wanted to talk about.  Ever since 
he'd started going out with Tracy, she'd been pumping him for 
information about her.  Invitations to dinner went with him on 
every date.  He had his own reasons for not issuing one yet, 
but it was only a matter of time before his mother wore him 
down.  

A faint scratching noise caught his attention.  It took Charlie a 
minute to realize where it was coming from--the Cheerios were 
twirling all over Will's highchair tray.  The baby sat, gleefully 
watching the revolving bits of cereal, completely unaware of his 
own role in the new entertainment.  

The display lasted for less than a minute, but it gave Charlie 
pause.  Will was just over a year old, and already he was 
moving light objects spontaneously.  His crib mobile, the 
Cheerios--Charlie had even seen him shift papers on the 
coffee table.  It didn't appear deliberate yet, but there was no 
way of knowing how soon he'd make the connection between 
what he was thinking and the action that resulted.  It might not 
happen until he reached puberty, or it could only be a matter of 
a few years, but he was going to become more powerful and 
have better control.  Then things would get very interesting.

Charlie watched as Will went back to eating the now-
motionless cereal.  For someone with the attention span of a 
goldfish, the little boy was certainly capable of focusing when it 
came to food.  He pinched each miniscule ring between his 
fingers, one by one, studied it up close until his eyes crossed, 
then slowly brought it to his mouth, which was hanging open in 
anticipation during the entire process.

Since coming to DC to live, Charlie had been spending a lot of 
time thinking about babies.  He'd never been around children 
much, except for the few times he'd seen Bill with Matthew.  
His brother seemed like a good dad, but with too much of the 
military you're-a-man-suck-it-up mind set.  Not exactly an 
inspiration to rush toward fatherhood.  Watching Mulder with 
Will was totally different, though; he was a fun father, creative, 
flexible, and not afraid to show his emotions or allow his son to.  
Charlie suddenly found himself wishing for that kind of 
relationship with a child.  Did men have a biological clock?  
Recently, he'd felt like there was something urging him to 
reproduce, and it wasn't just because he hadn't gotten laid on a 
regular basis.  Sex he could get, if he wanted to waste the 
money.  But what he desired now went beyond sex.  He 
wanted the same thing his sister had with Mulder and their son.  
A child with whom to share his heritage, an equal partner in all 
of life's ups and downs, somebody who knew everything about 
him rather than what he felt safe sharing.  And he desperately 
wanted that person to be Tracy.

Which was exactly why he didn't have, and would never have, 
the kind of love Dana and Mulder enjoyed.  He couldn't risk 
exposing his ability.  Oh sure, he could control himself most of 
the time, but faced with an emergency where he acted without 
thinking...  

He'd probably end up in the National Inquirer, once the 
scientists got done picking his brain apart.  Remaining low 
profile didn't include serving the Thanksgiving Day turkey by 
levitating the platter across the table, but to spend his life 
with another person and never be able to allow that side of himself 
any kind of expression was unthinkable.  He was what he was--
a telekinetic.  Other than his parents and Mulder, the few 
people who'd ever found out simply didn't know how to deal 
with it and he'd ended up having to move on.  No matter what 
his heart and his biological clock were saying, he'd eventually 
have to find a way to break it off with Tracy.  

Charlie heard his mother returning and quickly plastered on a 
neutral expression.  After years of working with him to control 
his ability, she could read him with a glance from five hundred 
feet away.  For once, he'd done a good job of hiding his 
thoughts.  Maggie smiled at him, got herself a cup of coffee, 
and sat down without the narrowing of her eyes that meant 
she'd noticed something.  

"So, where are you off to today?" she asked.

He took a sip before answering.  "Tracy and I are going to play 
tourist in DC and gawk at the sites.  I haven't had much of a 
chance to really see anything yet, and that kind of thing is 
always more fun with company."  He waited for the inevitable 
questions.

"How many dates is this since you got out of the hospital?"  
She peered at him over her cup, a smile twitching at the 
corners of her mouth.

"Six, but that's because it took me two weeks to work up the 
courage to call her."  If he'd called sooner, it would be triple 
that but he was deliberately going slow.  He smiled openly at 
his mother, pleased that she hadn't disappointed him.  Dating 
just wouldn't be the same without the less-than-subtle grilling 
he remembered from high school.

"So when are you bringing her over for supper?  I have to meet 
her sometime, you know."  

There was the crux of the matter, and they both knew it.  
Charlie wanted to share his recent thoughts about fatherhood, 
his fears of growing old alone, the strain of never being 
completely himself, but he couldn't.  Not yet.  And he definitely 
couldn't tell her how he felt about Tracy.  She would probably 
see it as no problem--he'd just have to find a way to keep his 
gift a secret.  Like there was nothing to it.  

"I'll bring her to supper soon."  

She peered at him over the rim of her cup again.  

"I promise.  It's... complicated.  You know that."  Charlie really 
didn't want to talk about it anymore.  He knew his mother 
almost as well as she knew him, so he chose a distraction that 
was certain to work.  "The bigger question right now is what to 
do about Dana."  

"Why?" his mother asked.  "What's wrong with her?"  Once 
again, she didn't disappoint him.

Rather than reply, Charlie set William's Cheerios twirling again.  
The baby crowed in delight and kicked his legs, bouncing in his 
highchair.  "That's me--this time.  He was doing it by himself 
while you were out of the room.  I'm sure it's completely 
unconscious, but how long will it stay that way?  He's a smart 
kid.  He'll figure it out pretty soon.  Dana would have a fit if 
she saw him doing that."

"And what do you want me to say to her?  Dana has to reach 
acceptance in her own way and time.  Trying to force her isn't 
going to help."

Charlie sighed.  "You're right, but I'm worried about Will.  You 
know Dana.  If she can't accept it, she'll ignore it as long as 
possible.  He needs to have both of his parents focused on 
helping him learn control, the earlier the better.  You, of all 
people, should understand that."

Maggie gave him a rueful grin.  "I know.  Dana's a lot like your 
father that way.  The only reason why he was able to accept 
your abilities is that he found out about Uncle Kevin by 
accident, much the same way Mulder found out about you.  We 
were already married with two children by then.  It took me 
more than one shore leave to convince him that he wasn't 
imagining things, hallucinating or going crazy."

He blinked.  "Dad never seemed to have a problem believing in 
MY powers."

"He was always on the lookout for it, though.  By the time you 
started levitating objects, he didn't see it as odd because he'd 
gotten to know my uncle better.  I see a similar process going 
on with your sister.  I keep hoping she'll wake up one morning 
and magically be okay with it.  Maybe pick up some of Fox's 
belief through osmosis.  She seems to have dealt with learning 
about your ability pretty well so far."

"That took weeks, Mom."  Charlie laughed.  "You saw how she 
reacted when Mulder simply used the word 'levitate.'  She's fine 
as long as I act normal."  He raised the sugar bowl off the table 
with his thoughts.  "The minute I exhibit any behavior related to 
my 'talent,' as she calls it, we go back a few steps in the 
acceptance department.  I think she's convinced herself that 
I'm a really good magician."

His mother plucked the bowl out of the air and returned it to the 
center of the table.  "Well if that's the kind of thing you're 
doing, I can't say I blame her.  My family history made it possible 
for your father and me to accept your ability, but even after all 
these years, it's still a shock to see objects moving on their 
own.  Imagine how that must affect someone with a logical, 
scientific mind, like Dana."

"Yeah."  He took another sip of coffee.  "Thank God for 
Mulder."

Maggie shook her spoon at him.  "Now wait a minute.  Just 
because Fox believes something, that doesn't make it true.  
That man can believe 'nine impossible things before breakfast' 
and seven of them are likely to be false alarms."

"I know, I know.  It's just..."   Charlie turned toward the sound 
of childish giggles.  William's cereal rings were spinning lazy 
circles on the highchair tray again.  Maggie raised an eyebrow 
at him, and Charlie shook his head.  It wasn't *his* doing.  

"The thing is," he continued, "I didn't have to convince Mulder.  
I didn't have to spend time breaking through a wall of disbelief 
by continually proving what I can do.  He simply believed, on 
the basis of what he'd seen, and my word."  He caught his 
mother's eye and tilted his head toward the clapping baby.  "I'd 
say that's a good thing for little Will.  Dana's seen most of the 
same things Mulder has and she still has a hard time 
believing."

Maggie sighed.  "I'm afraid you're right.  It won't be easy for 
any of them if his powers are this strong at such a young age."

Charlie nodded.  He knew the family history, and it was only 
once in every few generations that the ability appeared at birth.  
His sister was in for a very rough road if she couldn't find a 
way to accept what her son was capable of.  

For a while, the only sounds in the kitchen were happy-baby 
gurgles and the skittering dance of Cheerios.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the things Charlie liked best about Tracy was her laid-
back, completely unflappable personality.  She radiated an 
enormous sense of calm that he latched onto every time they 
were together.  Nothing appeared to faze her.  Not even when 
he bought them hot dogs at a corner cart and proceeded to 
squirt mustard on the shoulder of her pink blouse.  She'd just 
waved off his profuse apology and said, "I never liked this shirt 
anyway."  He could tell she wasn't just trying to make him feel 
better, either.  She really meant that she wasn't bothered by his 
clumsiness.  He'd pulled her into the first florist's shop they 
passed and bought her a corsage of orchids tied with a green 
ribbon that matched her eyes.  He'd basked in her smile of 
thanks as he pinned it over the spot on her blouse and 
admitted he'd do anything to make her smile like that.  Yeah, 
he had it bad, and that ain't good.

They visited the National Aquarium for several hours, which 
was really interesting, even if it did remind Charlie too much of 
his Navy-obsessed brother and father.  He always found it 
ironic that not only was he the sole member of his family with 
unusual powers, but he was also the only one who got sea-sick 
as a kid.  He'd grown out of it eventually, but he'd never been 
as in love with the Navy as Bill and Ahab.  There were times 
when he wondered if he was really adopted, or maybe a 
changeling, left behind by the fairies.  

The latter had been a favorite fantasy when he first manifested 
his ability.  The possibility that he wasn't human somehow 
made it easier to deal with the loneliness that resulted from 
always hiding his powers.  That loneliness had been assuaged 
to a certain extent since he met Tracy.  

As they were leaving the aquarium, a large family group 
entered, all shrieking children and harried parents.  One curly-
haired toddler caromed off Charlie's leg in her hurry to get 
through the door.  He caught her by one arm before she could 
land on her diaper-clad butt, then passed her off to an 
apologetic parent with an indulgent smile.  He watched the 
group head toward the exhibits until Tracy's hand on his arm 
drew his attention.  She was watching him instead of the 
children, lips softly tilted upward.

"They're a bunch of monkeys, aren't they?  Have you ever 
thought about having kids, Charlie?"

He shrugged.  "Nah, not really.  I'm probably too old, anyway."  

Charlie wasn't certain why he lied.  Maybe admitting it would 
have made knowing that it would never happen that much 
harder.  He desperately wanted to tell her everything about 
himself, his ability, his desires, his fears, but that was 
completely out of the question.  It was a sure way to lose the 
first person he'd felt close to in years, even if he did 
acknowledge in the back of his mind that it couldn't last.  He'd 
never left anyone he couldn't live without before, but there was 
a first time for everything.  He wanted to put it off as long as 
possible.  Still, it wouldn't be easy when the time came.

Tracy squeezed his arm.  "You're not too old.  Lots of people 
don't have children until their thirties.  Look at your sister.  
She's older than you, isn't she?"

He hadn't realized they were still standing in the doorway until 
another family group tried to pass them.  He finally continued 
outside, into the sunshine, and Tracy followed.

"Yeah," he replied.  "She's three years older.  Well, almost 
three.  We've always been close because of the small age gap.  
To Bill and Missy, I was just a pest to tease and torment.  But 
to Dana, I was a living baby doll.  Mom said she used to dress 
me in her own clothes and feed me with a doll bottle."

She grinned.  "Did she wear dresses or overalls?"

Charlie grimaced.  "That was during her pink ruffle phase.  She 
switched to overalls when she was four."

As Tracy's laugh wash over him, Charlie marveled at how 
comfortable they were together, even after only six dates.  He 
hadn't felt so easy in a woman's company in...  Well, never.  
He couldn't relax around other people, always needing to be on 
guard.  He was probably most at ease with Mulder, but even 
then, he had to watch what he did in front of Dana.  

The last time he'd had dinner with his sister, he and Mulder 
played with William while Dana got things ready for the baby's 
bath.  Will was just on the verge of walking, and his favorite 
game was to pull himself up using a piece of furniture, then let 
go, plop onto his butt, and crawl to his next pull-up spot.  
Charlie and Mulder laid down on the floor, offering themselves 
as furniture substitutes and becoming part of the game.  After 
a couple minutes, Charlie used his ability to keep Will from 
sitting down completely when he let go.  Like an invisible 
cushion under his butt, Will hung suspended in midair until 
Charlie lowered him gently to the floor.  It made Mulder and 
Will laugh, which drew Dana into the room to find out what was 
so funny.  Mulder saw her first and warned Charlie off with a 
throat-slashing motion.  That was the end of their game.  She 
simply wasn't ready to see telekinesis as fun.  Maybe nobody 
would be open to it except Mulder.  Charlie sometimes 
wondered if he would ever find a woman who could share his 
secret and laugh with him about it.

Enough of that.  His mood was sinking like the Titanic.  Charlie 
looked at his watch and realized they'd have to get moving or 
be stuck in rush hour traffic.  And he really needed to put gas 
in the car first.  He grabbed Tracy's hand and tugged.

"Shake a leg, woman.  We won't be going anywhere else if we 
don't hit the pumps soon."

She stopped for a moment, a frown creasing her forehead.  He 
was going to ask what was wrong, but Tracy spoke first as she 
started walking toward the car.  

"What's your work schedule look like this week?"

He got the message.  Whatever was on her mind, she didn't 
want to talk about it.  He wasn't sure he did either, so they 
discussed the coming week's activities instead and set up a 
time for their next date while they drove to the nearest gas 
station.  He'd been planning to ask her out to supper, but 
maybe she wasn't ready to spend that much time with him.  He 
should have been happy about the idea, but somehow he 
simply couldn't feel that way.

Charlie pulled into the first station he saw and parked at the 
pump closest to the road.  The place was crowded already.  
Looked like they were going to get stuck in traffic anyway.  

Tracy opened the door and got out.  "I need something to 
drink.  You want a soda?"

Charlie pulled out his wallet.  "Nah, I'm good.  But could you 
tell them to put twenty on pump one to speed things up?"  He 
reached across the seat and handed her a bill.

She looked over at the building, where a line to the cashiers 
was visible behind the glass doors.  "It's going to take a few 
minutes.  Good thing we're not in a hurry."

As she headed for the doors, Charlie got out of the car.  He 
opened the gas cap, put the nozzle in the opening and waited.  
And waited.  It seemed to be taking a lot longer than a few 
minutes, but he didn't mind.  He was passing the time with one 
ear on the gas pump and both eyes on Tracy, standing in line.  
He wasn't even thinking about much of anything, just enjoying 
the chance to observe her from a distance.  She turned toward 
the window.

All of a sudden, he couldn't see Tracy anymore.  Instead, he 
could see himself, standing at the gas pump.  His car was 
behind him, the street behind that.  Another car, dark blue, 
jumped the curb at full speed, barreling straight toward him.  
He heard Tracy scream, "Charlie!  Look out!" and spun around.

The out-of-control car wasn't only in his mind.  Tons of racing 
blue steel hurtled toward him with horrifying speed.  Without 
thinking, Charlie thrust his hands up in front of his face, as if 
that was going to help.  Anyone else would have ended up 
squashed like a bug against the pumps.  For Charlie, the 
defensive posture was simply window dressing.  The force of 
his thoughts pushed out against the speeding mass, covering 
the distance in the blink of an eye.  The car's tires smoked as it 
screeched to a stop, then actually slid backward a couple feet.  
The radiator grill hissed, belching steam.

Charlie lowered his hands, chest heaving with the adrenaline 
and exertion.  He could see an elderly man slumped onto the 
passenger seat of the car.  The engine continued to whine as 
Charlie's mind kept the straining machine in place.  Carefully 
skirting the front bumper, he sidled to the driver's side, 
reached through the open window, and shut off the ignition.  For 
a moment, silence echoed in his ringing ears.  Then 
pandemonium broke loose.

People poured out the doors of the station building, all intent on 
seeing what had happened.  Someone pushed him aside to 
check on the driver of the car.  He was unconscious, possible 
heart attack, someone else said.  An ambulance and police 
cars screamed up, one after another.  Cops asked Charlie 
question after question, sometimes more than once.  Long 
practice allowed him to fib his way through without raising 
suspicions.  He'd heard the engine rev, he said, which is why 
he turned around.  The car wasn't going as fast as it must have 
seemed to everyone inside.  The driver's foot probably slipped 
onto the brake after jolting over the curb.  The car never really 
got all that close to him.

It was controlled chaos.  Through it all, Tracy clung to his arm 
without speaking.  He expected her to be shaking, but she 
seemed a lot calmer than most of the other people there.  She 
just kept watching him, apparently more interested in what he 
was saying than in what was going on.  It felt like it took 
forever before the police had all the statements they needed and 
the ambulance screamed away again with the injured driver.  
Relative quiet descended on the gas station.  

Charlie felt something in his hand and looked down.  Tracy had 
slipped him the twenty dollar bill he'd given her earlier.  

"I never made it to the head of the line," she said.  "Do you 
want me to go back inside?"

He stuffed the bill in a pocket.  "I'll pick up gas later.  Let's 
get out of here."  

He pulled the passenger door handle, then stopped.  It all 
came crashing down on him at once.  The wrong place at the 
right time.  So many things had depended on them being right 
there, right then.  It could so easily have turned out badly.  But 
it didn't, thanks to Tracy.  

"You saved my life."  His voice croaked, and he cleared his 
throat.  "If you hadn't shouted a warning when you did..."

"I didn't shout.  I didn't say anything."

Charlie froze with his hand on the half-opened door.  "What?"  

Tracy slowly shook her head.

"But I heard you yell my name.  How--?"

"Probably the same way you stopped that car."  His eyes went 
wide and she nodded.  "With my mind."

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, until 
Charlie opened the door all the way.  "We need to find 
somewhere to talk."

Tracy got in and he shut the door, mind already racing.  They 
drove in silence, but his thoughts wouldn't shut up.  

This wasn't possible.  Was it?  Hell, he knew it was!  He was 
living proof.  But what were the odds of him actually finding 
someone who was different, like him?  Maybe not *like* him 
but...  She could use her mind to do things.  He'd heard her.  
And that picture, with the car coming at him.  Did she do that?  
What else could she do?

As they rounded a curve, the driveway to a neighborhood park 
appeared on the right.  He cut the wheel sharply, tires 
squealing as he made the turn, and pulled into the farthest 
parking spot, near a group of picnic tables.  Tracy got out as 
soon as he stopped the car.  Charlie shut off the ignition and 
joined her.

They walked toward the tables, mutually choosing one on the 
outer edge of the picnic area, away from the few people 
already there.  Charlie climbed onto the tabletop and sat down, 
patting the wood next to him.  Tracy joined him.  Neither spoke 
for a moment.

"So."  Charlie took a deep breath.  "Who wants to go first?"

"I will.  Might as well get it over with."  She shot him a quick 
look, then stared at her clasped hands as she continued 
speaking.  "I'm a high-functioning empath.  My earliest memory 
is being yelled at for saying that Aunt Irene actually hated the 
scarf my parents gave her, no matter what she said.  I learned 
to keep my mouth shut at a fairly young age, especially once I 
started school.  I also learned that people rarely say what they 
mean.  It was an interesting lesson."

That explained a lot of things he'd noticed on previous dates.  
He'd seen her look at him oddly a few times and even turn 
toward him when he knew he was thinking about her.  
However, that didn't explain...

"I saw a mental picture of that car headed straight for me.  
Was that you?"

Tracy shrugged.  "It happens sometimes, usually when I'm 
really stressed or excited.  I can read thoughts, too, but only 
when I'm in direct contact with the other person.  Mostly I just 
get a strong sense of peoples' emotions, like I'm feeling from 
you right now."

Charlie realized she was probably picking up on his confusion 
and nervousness, interpreting it as something else.  That's why 
she wouldn't look at him.  He reached over, enfolding her 
hands inside one of his.  "See if you can read this."  He tried 
to project thoughts of love, support, and acceptance, the idea 
that he understood.  He knew he'd succeeded when she looked up 
with tears sparkling on her lashes.  

"Thank you," she said.  "I haven't talked about it since I was a 
child.  I thought I'd gotten used to being the secret freak in the 
crowd."

He released her hands, then bumped her shoulder with his.  "If 
you're a freak, so am I.  I'm telekinetic."

God, how long had it been since he'd said that out loud to 
anyone other than family? 

"When did you start moving things?"  

And how long since anyone asked him that question?  
Probably never.  They were usually too busy either laughing, 
looking for his keepers, or calling him a liar.  

"I was thirteen, just hitting puberty."  Charlie shook his head.  
"Man, I can still remember the day everything changed.  My 
older brother was being a jackass, which was nothing unusual, 
but he'd really pissed me off.  I can't even remember how 
anymore.  I do remember wishing I could hit his stupid head 
with a rock, then watching as a rock rose off the ground behind 
him and smacked him in the back of the head.  I didn't connect 
it at first, had no idea how it happened, but I wanted it to 
happen again.  And it did!  Bill tried to blame it on me, but I 
was standing a good distance in front of him, so it was obvious I 
hadn't thrown anything.  When he told Mom, she gave me a 
long, hard look and said it must have been kids running down 
the street.  I knew it was a lie, and she knew I knew.  The next 
day, she started testing me while everyone else was out of the 
house, to see what I could do."

Tracy leaned closer, eyes wide.  "What could you do?"  

"Pretty much anything I wanted, except I had no control.  I'd try 
to lift a coffee cup and tip over a chair.  I'd attempt to right 
the chair and empty the silverware drawer onto the floor.  Mom 
forbade me to deliberately use my ability until I got some 
training, for fear I'd accidentally throw one of my siblings out a 
window.  A week after the rock incident, Great-uncle Kevin 
came to 'visit' for the weekend, and for many weekends after 
that.  Apparently it's genetic on my mom's side of the family, 
which is why she wasn't surprised."

"What did your brother and sisters say when they found out?"

Charlie snorted.  "They never knew.  Missy may have 
suspected, but Bill still doesn't know.  Dana found out by 
accident right after I moved here.  To say she's having trouble 
accepting it would be a major understatement.  Up until 
recently, only Mom, Dad, and Uncle Kevin knew, and Mom is 
the only one of those three left.  I didn't mind the others not 
knowing, though.  Uncle Kevin pounded it into my head that 
this is a gift, not a toy, and I had no right to abuse it.  I think 
he knew I'd be tempted to use it for revenge and amusement, so 
he also insisted that I never display my ability unless there was 
no other option.  He was a good teacher and gave me a lot of 
support.  So did my parents." 

Tracy placed a hand on his arm.  "I'm glad your parents were 
so supportive.  My family knows, but we never talk about it.  
When you have six kids, it's easy to ignore the empath in your 
midst.  As long as I don't blurt out what they're feeling or 
thinking, they don't have to acknowledge that I'm different."

"It probably IS a bit harder to ignore someone who can 
mentally stop a car in mid-careen, although Dana's been trying 
really hard since she found out."  He took her hand and 
squeezed gently.  "It's lonely, always hiding part of yourself." 

She smiled.  "Yeah, it is.  Or at least, it was."

"Was.  Definitely was."  He leaned down for a kiss and she met 
him halfway.  It felt nothing like the friendly, tentative lip 
brushes they'd shared in the last few weeks.  There was hope, 
promise, desire, and passion in the press of her lips.  Charlie 
couldn't tell if those were her emotions, or his being reflected 
back at him.  He really didn't care, either.  It felt like heaven 
to him.

Suddenly, taking it slowly didn't seem to matter anymore.  Even 
after all the people he'd met in his life, he'd never known 
anyone else with unusual abilities, yet here she was.  Not only 
that, but he was in love with her!  Apparently there really was a 
perfect someone for everyone, including him.  

Charlie reluctantly drew back, the need to see her face more 
overwhelming than the need to keep kissing her.  Tracy's eyes 
were still closed, the lashes dark and feathery against her skin.  
Her lips were parted slightly, breath whispering between them 
and tickling against his mouth.  A pink flush covered her 
cheeks, turning them childishly rosy.  When her eyes opened, 
dreamy and soft, he felt as though he'd never seen anything 
more beautiful.  He had to tell her.  

"I don't want to scare you, but I think I fell in love with you 
when you walked into my hospital room."

Tracy smiled and nodded.  "I know.  I felt it.  I was startled, 
but it didn't scare me.  I felt the same way."

He should have been surprised, but he wasn't.  It all just 
seemed right.  "So, you've been peeking at my thoughts when 
we were holding hands, huh?"

"Mm, sometimes.  A lot of them were very interesting."  

Charlie got off the picnic table and tugged her hands until she 
was standing beside him.  "Tracy, my mother would like you to 
have supper with us on Sunday.  Can you come?"

Her smile was dazzling.  "I'd love to, Charlie.  I wondered what 
it was you wanted to ask me."

He frowned.  "How did you know I wanted--?  Oh.  Right.  
That's going to take a little getting used to."  

She cocked her head to one side and studied him for a 
moment.  "You've been thinking about something important for 
a couple weeks.  I was afraid you were working up to the big 
kiss-off."

He grinned sheepishly.  "I'm surprised you couldn't read those 
thoughts like a billboard.  I have been thinking about it.  More 
than I wanted to."

"Well it's good to know that you didn't want to, even if you were 
thinking about it."

The gist of their conversation struck Charlie as hilarious and he 
couldn't help laughing.  He looked down at the twinkle of 
amusement in her eyes.  "You know the most amazing thing?  
Being able to talk to you about this at all.  Most people freak 
when they realize I'm not lying.  This is a totally new experience 
for me.  How about I take you home so you can change out of 
your mustard-trimmed ensemble?  Then I'll treat you to dinner 
and we can exchange war stories."

"That sounds nice."  She tucked her arm through the crook of 
his elbow and started walking toward the car.  "So which hot 
dog stand will we be visiting?"  She smiled at him teasingly, 
displaying the dimples he'd loved since the first time he saw 
her.

He disengaged her arm and draped his around her shoulder.  
She wrapped hers around his waist, tucking a hand in his back 
jeans pocket.  "Let's go someplace that doesn't have 
condiments in squirt bottles.  How does a swanky Italian 
restaurant sound instead?"

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, lips quirked.  
"I'll be sure to wear something red."

Charlie laughed as they headed toward the car.  He hoped she 
could feel the happiness radiating from his pores.  The way he 
felt at that moment, he'd probably glow in the dark from sheer 
joy.  

They hadn't discussed telling his family about Tracy's "talent," 
but he was sure she'd eventually want them to know and he 
wasn't worried about that.  His mother would take it in stride 
and start planning the wedding.  His sister would deny the 
possibility exists and insist on having his head examined.  And 
Mulder... 

A huge grin blossomed at the thought.

Wait until Mulder found out!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END

Felicity: n. happiness, a source of happiness.

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