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Disclaimer: "The Pretender" is a protected trademark and I'm Just borrowing the characters. I promise to give them back once I've used them, hopefully more or less intact. This story was inspired when I read The Lurker's story "Silent voices" I have asked and been given permission.


Title: Silencing the voices
Author: Giton
Rating: G
Spoilers: Season 4 Finale, but not necessarily
Keywords: Sydney's little secret
Summary: Why Sydney stopped using his Inner Sense



Silencing the voices
By Giton




The Centre, Sydney's office

Sydney sat alone in his office. The lights were off, bar the small lamp on his desk and all through the building it was quiet. It was past his time to go home, but somehow he felt comforted by the silence in his office.

He sighed deeply. He knew that soon Ms Parker would come to him and ask him the same question her mother had asked him all those years ago, when she couldn't control her Inner Sense anymore, "Will you help me to control it?"

And as he had done all those years ago for the mother so he would do it for the daughter. Hopefully this time it wouldn't end so drastically. He had been telling himself over the years that it hadn't been his fault that she died and in his heart he knew it to be true, but still the voices, or maybe his own guilt of surviving, accused him.

Could he have prevented it? He wasn't sure. Could he have seen it coming if he had left his Inner Sense open to the full brunt of emotions, feelings and thoughts of others? Could he have stopped the events as they were unfolding? Could he have stopped Jacob and Catherine feeling or caring for the children?

He shook his head wearily. It was no use torturing himself with incriminations. He couldn't afford to have these thoughts running around in his mind once he started helping Ms Parker control her Inner Sense. It could damage her.
Would any of them have understood why he tried to repress it as much as possible? Look what it had done to the others. They were dead now and he was still alive. A derisive laugh escaped his lips. Alive! Yes, but what price did he have to pay for his own mortal soul? He had tried to warn them first, to help them and then he watched them all die.
He threw his head into the backrest and kneaded his eyes shut, refusing to let the tears flow. She would need his strength, not his weakness! If he let the voices in, soothing him and at the same time accusing him with their love, he would be no good to Ms Parker. He couldn't stand loosing her as well and have her voice added to the number that was already in his head.

Could, or should he ever explain why he tried to shut up his Inner Sense? He thought back to when he made that decision...


St Vincent de Paul Hospital, January 1964

He had not given up voluntary work when he started working at the Centre. Twice a week he took himself over to the Hospital in Blue Cove to offer his services as a psychiatrist in the children's wing. The hospital didn't have a resident psychiatrist yet but they did have little patients with mental problems. Sydney wasn't the only volunteer, but they were more than happy to have a doctor like Sydney help them out with the more problematic cases, which Sydney was more than happy to provide for them.

Today had been a "quiet" day and Sydney took this opportunity to visit some of his little patients. Most of the ones he had treated in the children's ward had been victims of abuse. Although being a psychiatrist and having seen the atrocities in Dachau, he couldn't understand how people could go out of their way to abuse a child in such a way that hospitalisation was needed.

It was a minor comfort to know that some of them could lead happy lives after his consultations and let them share the warmth of his Inner Sense.

When he walked onto the ward Michael, one of his patients of the "first hour", ran over to greet him. He locked his little 7-year-old arms around Sydney's legs and beamed up at him, "Sydney!" he exclaimed happily. Sydney bend down and lifted the little fellow up. It was hard to believe that only months ago this happily grinning youngster was brought to the hospital close to death, a little present from his father. It was already arranged that he would be taken into care with his relatives who lived in the East of the country. At least it wouldn't be with strangers. Sydney hoped that from then on he was able to spend a normal, happy childhood and that whatever horrors he had undergone could be forgotten.

Michael had now wrapped his arms around Sydney's neck and was hugging him. For a brief moment Sydney let himself be enveloped by the child's warmth.

With Michael on his arm he walked further onto the ward and was greeted by four more happy voices. It brought a shy smile to his face. His calm influence had healed some of their pain and he hoped that all would have a happy future. He put Michael down and gave his attention to all five now.

One of the nurses walked in and smiled when she saw him busy with them. She liked the way he handled them, listened to all of their stories with genuine interest and the way they responded to him. One day he would make an excellent father.

She walked over to him, "Doctor Green, can I have a word with you?"

He turned to her and his smile made her feel warm inside, "Yes, of course."

He stood up, said his goodbyes to the children and followed her out into the corridor.

"We have a little patient in room 309. He has been with us for about two years now and maybe you could have a look at him?"

"Why didn't I know about him if he has been here that long?"

"Maybe the management thought he was a hopeless case and that a catatonic has no need of a psychiatrist. I might be stepping out of ethical bounds and they might be right, maybe you can't help him... I mean.... But I have seen you with the other children for the last two months now and I thought maybe..."

He smiled warmly at her, "No need to be embarrassed, if I can help I will try, lead on."

She took him to room 309, on the way filling him in. The child, Victor, was 10 years old. His mother had brought him in about two years ago. He had been catatonic for that whole period. He responded to some stimuli. The doctors and nurses had done everything in their power to try and release him from his catatonic state, but they had not been successful.

The mother had given up hope that he would ever wake up. Nurse Cunningham knew it would be medically unethical for her to intervene, but her concern for the child overrode these considerations. He told her not to worry, if necessary he would tell them he had walked into Victor by accident. They stopped in front of room 309 and entered. He opened his Inner Sense and was all but physically assaulted by the loneliness, which emanated from the little boy on the bed. It brought tears to his eyes. He quickly closed himself off.

"You all right, doctor?" she was worried when she saw him grow pale.

"Yes," he said with some difficulty, "I'm all right. Could you leave me with him for a while?"

She nodded and left the room, while he sat down in the chair next to the bed.

He took the child's hand in his own and let his mind open up slowly. Waves of pain, loneliness and confusion hit his own mind. It was cold and horrible. The boy was trapped. He let go of the boy's hand before he became enmeshed in his mind.

He wasn't sure if he could help. He had only attempted it once before and, although successful, it had left him physically drained for days. Did he have enough strength to do so again? What would his colleagues, if they knew, make of it? The psychiatrist being his own patient? That wouldn't go down very well on future résumés would it? But he couldn't let the boy suffer in there either. He was all alone and afraid.









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