Therapy

Somewhat edited, because the challenges are over and it there were some minor points that bothered me; mostly grammatical, but there's a few word differences as well.

"I don't need this."

I didn't bother to answer him. This was how every session with him started, so I had been told. The boy didn't want help.

"Really, I don't."

I sighed. "Among other things, you're a pathological liar."

"Now you're just telling stories to glorify your job."

"You are the one who should lecture me glory," I reminded him dryly, referring back to one of his old stories.

"Glory's nothing to do with that," he snapped.

I really didn't care too much for this patient; months inside, and he still clung to his delusions. Boredom was what really brought me here, that and Father wouldn't let me near the more serious cases. The only thing I could be thankful for was that his lies were consistent and therefore maybe something to work off of, not the usual mad ramblings. Likely he was a fan who, put through the shock of a highly traumatic situation, decided that coping was easier if you decided everything leading up to that moment had been based on the same sort of destruction.

As it was, he rolled his eyes. "Lil' Miss Shrink, thinks she knows everything… You don't know shit, lady, no offense. And you're younger than the last one they sent in; fresh out of school?" He smirked. "What am I these days, everyone's start-up toy? 'Go check out the pilot first, he'll get you warmed up for the real psychos'?"

"You're not a pilot," I reminded him. I didn't want to tell him I wasn't out of school yet, though from his look, I think he could tell. But the patient had been determined harmless at this point, so Father had said it was fine if I wanted to talk to him. Maybe I could write up my thesis on cases like this; experience in the field looked good on an admissions paper to med school.

He sighed. "So they keep telling me." Leaning back in his chair as much as he could, restrained as he was, he closed his eyes. "Well, get on with it, not like I've got much say… The sooner you're gone the sooner you can stop grating my nerves."

Did I mention I'd like to strangle him? His sheer impertinence was aggravating… Not that I'd ever been known for a strong hold on my temper, but still… There was something about him that rung my nerves. His slow, weary movements spoke of a defeated man, but at the same time, there was such an intensity in him that I didn't want to turn my back to him.

"What's your name?"

The noise he made was very annoyed. "Did it never occur to you people that starting off like you're interrogating me doesn't exactly help you try to convince me I never piloted a gundam?"

I bit my lip, trying to take a calm, deep breath. "What is your na-"

"Might I add you're a hell of a lot nicer than Oz? They liked to hit me every time I didn't say what they wanted."

Easy now… "What is your-"

"But they have laws against you people doing that to crazies, don't they?" His chuckle was hollow. "You can shock 'em to death, give 'em enough chem work to knock out a horse, but you're not allowed to kick 'em into giving you an answer."

I glared at him. "Would you just-"

"Why?"

"Because I asked!"

"Well, that's a really thought-out answer."

"Why won't you just answer me?"

"Because it's in your sheet thingie."

"You're a pathological liar."

"Exactly."

"I'm supposed to check over what you've said."

Rolling back his shoulders, he told her, "Sheet thingie should also say I'm good at keeping to one story. What makes you think I should say any differently?" He rolled his eyes. "Think I'm gonna slip up on my own name?"

"You might decide to tell the truth," I suggested defensively, trying not to let it show that his words had bitten. I felt like an idiot… some psychiatrist I was going to make…

He laughed. "And what, darling, would make you think that, if I was to tell you a different name, it wasn't just another lie?"

I had no answer to that.

"Point proven," he announced. "There's no point to asking me anything, because you won't believe a word out of my mouth." Opening his eyes, he smirked. "Besides, I'm really bothering you." He quirked his eyebrows suggestively. "What the hell kind of business does a girl like you got in a loony bin with a man claiming to be a killing machine?"

I glared at him.

The patient laughed. "You're going to have to try harder than that, love, your pretty browns can't compete with someone else's blues. Give it up."

He laughed as I stormed out, and the sound sent chills up my spine.

"I really don't need this."

"What is your name?"

"Adam."

"Occupation?"

"Father of mankind."

I glared at him. "Occupation?"

He grinned mischievously. "Herding the new pink flying elephants Treize ordered all the way over the rainbow to Oz."

"Occupation?"

"Fucking with people's minds."

My teeth were grit. "Occupation?" I growled.

"Trying not to have wet dreams at night about therapist Latino girls, because they have cameras on me, and that's just not right."

He laughed again as I stormed out.

"You're back again?"

"I want my questions answered. What's your name?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well that's Mr. Fluffums to you…"

"I really don't need all this. Honest. You're wasting your time."

"Name?"

"Duo Maxwell. Why do you keep coming back?"

"Occupation?"

"The one I was ordered to do, the one I was doing, or the one I am doing?" I raised a brow at him and he sighed. "Gundam pilot," he told me resignedly.

"Birthdate?"

"Beats me."

"Place of residence?"

He sighed. "Well, it looks like here, for the time being. Why do you show up every day?"

I sighed. I wasn't all that sure myself, outside of the fact that I didn't want to think I'd given up on someone who might need help. Everyone else already had, after all… "Previous place of residence?"

"Somewhere. Aren't shrinks supposed to ask all those mind-deep questions?"

Giving him a level look, I asked, "And why would you give me any real answer on any of that?" The tests concerning his personality and the instability of his psych had all been done.

"Because it's a touch more interesting than flinging random shit at you to break a rhythm."

"You'd still be lying to me." Keep a method, make them think they understand you, develop some good report so you have a chance of actually getting somewhere… that was the odd thing; he'd blatantly disregarded any attempts to let someone befriend him; even if he didn't like her, they might develop some consistency.

That and it meant I didn't have to keep a cap on my attitude, which my father had reprimanded me for, but this was a throwaway case anyhow

"Suit yourself." He leaned back in his restraints, closing his eyes. "I'm bored, and you're not helping anymore."

I snorted. "And when did I help your condition?"

"My 'condition,' sweet, is boredom, and you've been helping with that a lot over the past two weeks."

"You listed as a severe post-trauma patient."

"They generally sign you up for that when they find you rocking and muttering to yourself, surrounded by the unidentifiable corpses of what you claim to be your friends."

"…You said they were gundam pilots too."

"That I did. Please note the past tense."

"You act as though it doesn't bother you."

"It does."

"Why don't you grieve then?"

"Because I'm known to go a little crazy when I let myself get upset." He swallowed. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened anyhow."

"What other times?" I whispered.

"I'd like you to leave now," he informed me, his voice haggard.

It wasn't until I was in the elevator, on my way out of the hospital, that it occurred to me that I hadn't even considered the idea that he might have been lying.

Peeking into the room, I smiled at him. "Bored, still?" I asked.

"Incredibly," he replied, looking at his nails. "Why's my jacket gone?" Glancing over at me, he asked, "Do I have you to thank for that?"

"You're not a threat."

"They decided that weeks back," he reminded her. "They always put me back in it before you came in."

I frowned. "Why?"

His chuckle was humorless. "Because I'm a wild dog they're trying to train, princess," he told her. "An old-style mutt thrown into training school."

"I'm sorry you're seeing it that way."

He looked back over at me, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry you don't agree with me."

I wasn't entirely sure I didn't.

"I'm surprised they haven't let you out on the grounds before."

Duo, as I was starting to believe his name really was, shrugged. "I made a habit of playing Houdini when I was first collected; they didn't think outside was so hot of an idea."

I frowned. "Then why-"

"Was I back in a jacket when you first came in?" His grin was roguish. "I rather gave the impression that I'd forgotten I knew how."

I stared at him. "What?"

He frowned a bit, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I made myself look like a proper amnesiac…" His grin now was rueful. "Trowa'd get a good laugh outta that."

"Trowa?"

His eyes were blank, glassed over. "Counted among the dead."

I looked away. "Oh…"

After a moment, he reached out and clasped my hand around his arm, taking a step forward. "Come on, princess," he urged. "You're walking me, remember?"

Following his lead, I asked, "Does it bother you, coming out?"

Laughing uproariously, he turned and gave me a skeptical look. "Do you realize how long I've been in that room?"

I thought back to his chart, then smiled apologetically.

"Exactly." He continued pulling me along, reminding me vaguely of a little kid going to the park. "Besides," he added, "there aren't cameras out here, I don't have to watch what I say so much."

"What?" My brows snapped together, and I asked another question, realizing all the first would get me was a smart remark. "How do you know?"

His returning look was skeptical, pitying, and somewhat amused. "Darling, I'm the God of fucking Death," he said softly. "02, Deathscythe Hell. Stealth is my specialty. I can smell a camera at three hundred yards."

That surprised me. Not thinking before talking, reverting back to what I had been told to do instead of what I had been, I retorted, "There's a decline. Do you want me to take you back to your room?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't exactly what I was supposed to be doing, but at least I had started on the right track…

He snorted. "You believe me."

I hated it when he was right.

"There's something I don't understand," I announced. We were out on the grounds again, sitting under a tree. After what he had said that once, I had realized it was better for him to be outside; not that it stopped him from making cracks that it was easier for me to teach him tricks out in the grass. He liked to yell at people that I had a good collar on him and was in control, so they shouldn't worry too much.

"And what would that be?" he asked, drawing in the dirt with one finger.

"Why are you still here?"

"I was committed for claiming to be a galactic terrorist when I'm obviously underage, sweetheart. And if someone other than you does the committing, someone other than you has to release you."

"But that's just it," I retorted. "You're not crazy! They should've seen that months back, maybe even just three weeks after you got here! Now it's like you're playing around here because you like being the psychiatric pet!"

He looked over at me. "And has it occurred to you what will happen to me if I let these doctors know that I'm not a member of the loony club?" At my blank look, he rolled his eyes. "If I tell them who I am and they believe me, sweet, enough to let me go, do you honestly think they won't let our friend Treize know? I believe I mentioned it the first day you came to talk to me, you people are a lot nicer than a group of Ozzies. You feed me, you don't beat me up, you don't carry guns, and if I was feeling better, I might actually be able to split. Alas, I tried to get out a few times already and I have a record, and I'm not as fit as I'd like to be after close on seven months of doing jack shit." He sighed and leaned back against the tree. "I couldn't pull it off." Rolling his eyes, he added, "Not that I was ever that skilled at getting out of places." His voice softened and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. "There's no Heero to save my ass anymore…"

I thought for a moment. "Why don't you make a new identity and lie? Make it believable."

"I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie," he snapped. Then, sighing, he continued with, "Least not a real lie, screwing around with people doesn't count. However, I've managed to convince everyone I'm a pathological liar, ironic as that is, so no one would follow it unless I had solid proof. I don't happen to have a legitimate identity to steal and pull off on hand, so no one would believe me. And then, even if I somehow managed to pull it off, despite my better judgment, I'd be watched for a good long while, and seeing as I'm rather attached to my braid, it could be hard to get out from under the institution's wing. I have no assets to my name, as of the moment."

"Aren't I an asset?" I asked quietly after a moment.

He looked over at me shocked. "You, dear, are something that's keeping me sane in this nuthouse."

"So am I an asset?"

His smile was warm. "The best kind."

"Really now?" I questioned with a grin, poking fun at him.

"Hey, you're the only person alive who doesn't think I'm plain quack, that has to count for something. I was in here for six damn months with everyone telling me I was crazy so often I was starting to think maybe they were right! And now, three weeks after meeting me, you believe me. That, babe, is something I'll treasure, if you don't mind."

"And I'm training you too," I reminded him, keeping his common-day joke alive.

He stuck out his tongue at me. "First time I've ever gone to school faithfully."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's a bit hard to play hookie here."

I raised a brow, trying not to grin. "Does that make you a hooker then?"

He winked. "Premium goods, Miss, premium goods."

I laughed. "Confident aren't we?"

"You bet your ass."

"I thought we were betting your ass."

His mischievous grin was more than a touch lewd. "I'd let you take a test run, but I think you people have rules against that."

"Not to mention the fact that you're underage?"

"Hey, we don't know that. I could be eighteen."

I couldn't stop laughing.

Today I burst into his room and demanded, "Why did you do that?"

"He bothered me."

"He made it so I'm standing on pins and nails to get back in here!"

"Well, I didn't think he's take me seriously…"

"This is a mental institution, Duo! People take that sort of thing seriously!"

He sighed. "Fine, I promise I won't do it again." He smiled over at me. "I'd like a walk, where's my leash?"

When we were out on the grounds again, he apologized. "If I don't do something bad now and then they might think twice about disbelieving me. I made that mistake with you."

I looked up at him and sighed. "That didn't mean you had to tell Dr. McKlennecen that you were a hooker in your past life, or that you had try posing."

He snickered. "You can't tell me it wasn't funny."

"You didn't have to start demanding the shoes either." He'd about thrown a hysterical fit when denied bright red stilettos…

"I think that was what made him decide I was serious though…"

"Duo…"

"And I thought you'd get a good kick out of it."

I couldn't help but smile. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep from laughing when they showed us the tapes?"

"Ooh, poor baby," he cooed. "You should work on keeping a straight face anyhow."

"Inside jokes are hard to ignore."

He grinned. "Well, I could show you my wares, offer's still up."

I laughed. "I appreciate the sentiment," I told him, "But I'd like it if next time you cut me a little slack."

"Alright, chicken dance next time."

"You might have to do more than dance."

"What, you want me to try to peck his eyes out?"

"No, that might make me lose my privileges of talking to you. I just meant to be believable."

"I'm a pathological liar with severe post-trauma that has caused a varying case of amnesia. I can get away with any of it."

"True…"

"…Can I at least refer back to it, next time he comes? Like, ask him questions and stuff?"

Sighing, I said, "Fine."

I stood luridly cursing out the sandwich vending machine in the break room, displeased at the absence of tuna from its ranks. Someone behind me laughed. "It's not fair, you know," I told the orderly in a mock serious tone. "Depriving me of much-needed tuna."

In return he held up one such sandwich. "I got the last one," he told me, smiling ever so slightly. "You could talk me out of it if you tried."

I smiled, and took a better look at him. Other than a few scars on his face that it looked like he was having worked on, he wasn't too bad looking; probably just a bad car accident. "Could I now?" He looked a little young, but he was probably just fresh out of high school, like myself. Even new orderlies had to be at least eighteen, so it was a safe bet. As Duo had pointed out, I looked a bit under my own twenty years.

"You could," he reaffirmed. "With the condition of sharing the time you eat with me, of course."

I winced. He was cute, too… "I promised my patient I'd eat out on the grounds with him."

One scarred brow was raised. "Did he bribe you with tuna too?"

I laughed. "The tuna was supposed to be for him, actually."

"Heh, he doesn't like anything else?"

"Yeah, we're a little scared to feed him chicken these days, and turkey is a little too close to that. If we try to give him roast beef he might start mooing."

"Sounds like a disturbed fellow."

"Interesting, to be sure. Can I have the tuna?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "If I can join you."

"I can't promise my patient will behave."

The orderly chuckled slightly. "I've heard stories about the one you're talking about. His misbehaviors sound interesting."

I thought about it for a moment, hesitating. On one hand, Duo had told me he'd never had tuna before, and he'd really like to try it. On the other, he might not like the idea of having to put on a show. But then, he really rather enjoyed the shows he put on a bit too much, and he might have to run into this guy at some point soon anyhow…

"We'll be under the big oak out back at noon," I told him. I held out my hand. "Tuna?"

His smirk was slight. "And then have you run off and eat elsewhere?"

I rolled my eyes; the thought hadn't actually occurred to me. "Bring it with you then."

"Tuna?" asked Duo helpfully as we walked out of the room.

"We're getting delivery," I told him laughingly.

"How does that work?"

"The guy with the last sandwich was hitting on me in the commissary," I explained. "The only way I could get him to give it to me was to let him join us."

Duo grinned impishly. "Can I scare him off?"

I raised a brow. "Getting possessive, are we?"

He laughed at that as we arrived at our assigned tree, sitting down in the shade. "You bet," he returned. "When's the food getting here?"

I pulled an egg salad sandwich out of my bag. "I have mine," I reminded him, putting out a few apples and bottles of water as well. "All we're waiting on is your tuna."

He held up the third apple, giving me a level look. "Got lover-boy one too, eh?"

"He bought your sandwich with his own cash, he deserves something."

He scrunched up his nose. "I'd rather just…" The words died in his mouth and he stared at something behind me in shock.

Wondering what was going on, I turned around, and saw our seeming delivery boy had arrived. He returned Duo's stare, his eyes cold, his expression stony. This wasn't the man I had seen in the commissary, somehow. This was someone completely different.

"You're dead," breathed Duo.

"Am I?" returned the other, sitting down and tossing him the sandwich. "I'd think you'd know better than that, with my record."

I looked back over to Duo. His breathing was irregular, his eyes were wide, and he looked ready to faint. But then, a moment later, he lunged over and tackled the other man, yelling something utterly unintelligible as he slammed into him.

"Get off, if I shove you it'll get too much attention," muttered the newcomer quickly. To my surprise, he immediately did as told, rolling back on his heels and balancing with a kind of grace I had never seen in him before.

"Going to keep to the rest of your record?" he asked eagerly.

The newcomer scowled. "Did you expect me to leave you locked up when there's only the two of us left?" he asked softly.

Duo winced. "I suppose it was better to say that straight before I got my hopes up too much," he murmured.

"I got out early," explained his friend under his breath. "Though the backlash of the explosion almost killed me as it is. The fourth body was someone Quatre knew, I never got a clear look at him." He shook his head a little, then looked back at Duo, his deep Prussian eyes boring into the other's cobalt. "Ready to leave?"

Heero, I realized. Duo had said enough about him in the past for me to realize now. This… was Heero, 01.

His chuckle was eager. "Somebody save me," he muttered sounding like he was quoting something. "Somebody take me away from this awful place…"

"If you talk like that I'll leave you here."

Duo grinned. "Yes, I'd like to leave, I've had enough of school." He motioned at me. "Can we kidnap my tutor?"

The other gundam pilot looked at me calculatingly, and I felt as though someone had dumped ice down my shirt. "She doesn't need it," he said after a moment. "It would draw too much attention."

I couldn't decide whether I should feel relieved or abandoned when Duo reluctantly nodded.

And so they left, escaped right then before my eyes. I kept at school, I kept visiting the "harmless" patients, talking to them and doing what I could. I never found another sane one though. Or one who'd really go out of his way to make me laugh.

The war ended a few years later, and I couldn't help but smile to myself at that, seeing as it was made clear that the two had survived, though they had not revealed themselves.

I finished my Masters, and opted to go for psychologist instead of my initial aims of psychiatrist. Father threw a fit over it. I didn't care; I was too sick of school by that time, and… I decided I wanted to help those who could get back on their feet without medication. I got a job offer in L-2, and I took it.

I had been working there for four months when one morning, opening my office, I found there was someone already laid out on my couch.

"Nice pad you got here, princess," announced Duo, twisting around to grin at me. "Did I mention you forgot to take back your collar?"