Dillon’s head was full of memories that weren’t his.

They didn’t make themselves known most of the time, but when they did, it would be violent, painful, disorienting. Fights he’d never witnessed, magic that didn’t exist, people he’d never met.

Getting slightly to moderately drunk usually solved the problem. Things also got better when he was around the Director or Phoenix, which he reasoned was due to them being very psychically sensitive, because any other explanation would be even more weird.

He himself, apparently, was also psychically sensitive. Just a little. That seemed to be the problem, as Ashton apologetically explained while mixing him painkillers, and Ashton was smart and usually right about those things.

Ashton was also good at explaining things in simple words. He said that very roughly, psychic sensitivity was a scale. Some people could only feel the occult, some could perform minor magic, some major. That talent could be developed, and could manifest in slightly different ways, but no one could jump over their head.

Ashton was moderately sensitive to most occult phenomena, and very sensitive to those surrounding objects. Both the Director and Phoenix were very psychically sensitive, but the Director had been training for longer and his control was more developed. And Dillon…

Dillon was very mildly psychically sensitive and yet somehow managed to get attached to a spirit.

If he were more magically inclined, it probably would have manifested similarly to Phoenix’s personal ghost, Kat. An almost-real person that could exist with a corporeal body and even communicate with other people from time to time.

But Dillon was nothing more than a soldier. So instead of a neat companion, he got jumbled flashbacks and a chronic headache.

The first time he felt it was the night he’d met the Director. He didn’t know anything about magic then; he didn’t stop to think what the weird, disgustingly slimy creature was; but for a short, glorious moment he felt that the creature was tiny compared to his fist, guided by an unknown hand.

He stood over the downed creature, leaning on the wall, when the image assaulted his brain.

He was on the battlefield, surrounded by opponents and yet feeling no fear. He was laughing, certain in the knowledge that someone had his back and free to enjoy the thrill of the fight.

The scene was familiar and yet not. The feeling of battle rage was one he knew intimately, but the fighting style and the enemies drew a blank from his memory. He tried to focus on their forms, but instead of clarity there was only a stabbing pain in his temples. Urgency came with it, too – the enemies were closing in, and he had to do something, could not let someone down…

That was how the Director found him, on his knees and clutching at his head, a deep dent in the brick wall where he’d punched it in his confusion. The Director patted his hair with surprising gentleness for his stern look, and the pain drained away into the gesture. Grateful, but still disoriented, Dillon was led away from the dead creature and thrust into the care of Ashton and Phoenix, who finally explained what the creature was and what was happening to Dillon.

He wished those memories didn’t come to him at such unfortunate times so he could actually try to figure out what they meant, but they always appeared after his magic manifested, which was rarely in the comfort of his home. His control over it was tenuous at best, and deeply tied to his emotions, and even that one fateful sparring session with Phoenix wasn’t enough to trigger the feeling of danger that invited the flashbacks.

So he suffered through it one episode at a time. With each breakthrough, the edge between his own memories and those of the spirit grew more and more muddled. Dillon’s companion seemed to be a lot more volatile than Kat, much like Dillon himself compared to Phoenix, and Dillon wondered if that was the reason for the attachment. He once tried to ask the Director, but the man merely shrugged and said that souls of the dead worked in mysterious ways.

Most times the similarity brought Dillon comfort. It was like having an invisible mentor in his subconscious, and Dillon was grateful for the power it lent him. At other times the maddening pain made him want to tear the foreign mind out of his brain, set the boundaries clear and straight, know for certain that it was his own emotions he was feeling and not anyone else’s.

Ashton would bring him calming tea at those times, awkward yet helpful in his usual endearing way, and Phoenix would quietly move over to give him space, for once not griping about extra people in the already cluttered office he shared with Ashton. Dillon wasn’t sure what the Director’s intentions were for bringing them together, but he was grateful for the presence of friends.

Several times he found himself waking up restrained by suddenly corporeal Kat, her presence lifting the red tint over his vision and bringing lucidity back. He didn’t always remember going to their office, or even coming back to the headquarters, but it was always where he ended up.

Dillon wasn’t completely clueless. With time, he figured out that unlike with the Director it wasn’t Phoenix himself that calmed him down, but rather Kat’s ghostly presence. Something about her felt familiar to that entity stuck with Dillon, a longing that wasn’t his own making him specifically seek Phoenix out on some of the worse days.

Dillon never mentioned that to anyone. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, and could offer no further insight than vague feelings. He also felt as if he stumbled upon something deeply personal, so he quietly appeased the spirit without making it into a big deal.

After all, even if there was a story there, it belonged to people long since dead.

—–

Oof, not sure if I fit the prompt this time, but whatever. Master post is here.

If I manage to last until the end of the month, there will be more about Kat and Dillon’s mysterious spirit acquaintance, as well as Ashton and Phoenix!