Perhaps someone else would have gone about it more subtly. With a bit more finesse. But that is not what he was being paid for- not what he was trained to do. Besides, what’s the fun in that? He shoved his mind against those shields, ripping through them with relish. He paused for a moment, no longer in that floating, serene quiet. Now there was heat and pain and agony and a sort of fierce, almost paniced determination not to fold. 

 

You don’t have to bend, my sweet. You only have to break. He felt the surprise of the mind he’d broken into, felt the shock that he’d even bother to speak. He felt thoughts begin to form into coherence and bashed through them, ripping through the concious until he felt himself fall, escape the heat and hit a pool of icy neutrality, surrounded by brief flickers of light and color, sounds and touch and taste. Memories.  He ran them through mental hands, relishing them. But he felt another, irritated prod from that outside force, and with a sigh he let go of those sweet droplets of heaven, and began his true search.

 

He felt the mind breaking as he dragged information out of his cerebral cortex, first in flickers and drips, then in a rushing torrent. He analyzed it, taking his sweet time, coiling it and filing it away in his own mind so that he could transfer it to one of the other telepaths he worked with. When he finally dragged the last tremulous image from the man’s mind, and as he dragged himself out of the rubble he’d made, he snatched at the final, fleeting bit of cotton candy sweetness- a woman, firelight, and the flash of a gold band, tears, and an overwhelming feeling of… he wasn’t really sure. But it was beautiful, and not a memory he’d collected.

 

Scott let go of the man’s head, whiping drool of on his plain black slacks as he stood up. The man’s head lolled, his jaw slack and eyes rolled back in his head. Scott nudged him with the toe of a meticulously shined shoe, then pivoted, striding towards the door. He passed the telepath who had been supervising the session and grabbed his arm, plain brown eyes oddly empty.

 

“We haven’t worked together before, so I probablly should have reminded you, since I know you read it in my file when you requested me. If you ever try and direct me again, I will make sure that every memory you cherish is mine.” A slight, vicious smile curved his lips, and his fingers tightened on the man’s arm, and he dumped the information he’d riped out of the prisoner’s mind into the other telepath. The man’s knees buckled as Scott let go, plucking his black suit jacket from the hook near the door leading out of the observation room. As his hand twisted the doorknob, he recalled that drifting moment before he’d taken the plunge.

 

Broken mirrors. How… cliché. He really needed to find somethin better to fill the blank space.