A/N: Firstly, no, this idea did not come from St. Fang of Boredom's A Day In Therapy, for anyone reading this who may have frequented the Maximum Ride fandom at any point, although I realized that it was a similar thought after I had almost finished writing it. The idea vaguely came, yet again, from my friend Alex, but as with all of his other ideas that I translated into fanfictions, I have made my own adjustments to this one, and as the author I reserve the right to defend it from any nitpickers, including him.

Secondly, this is written as a sort of spin-off of my fic Secrets of the Barrows Brothers, so that's what the first paragraph is in reference to. Don't worry, just because you don't understand that part doesn't mean you won't understand the rest. It doesn't really play a big part in the fic. Also, I'm writing the Mahjarrat as I write them in one of my other fics, Shadows of a Lost Mind, quirks and subplots included. Please don't complain if they don't match up with the Jagex versions; it's not that I'm ignorant, it's just that Alex and I have sort of recreated them.

Thirdly, this is from the point of view of Kina Kalamari, who used to be me at the beginning of Secrets of the Barrows Brothers, but is now really her own, rather wacky person.

Disclaimer: The Mahjarrat, Iban, the Barrows Brothers, Falador, Gielinor, the Grand Exchange, the Crafting skill, Karamja, the Wilderness, and some pieces of plot and storyline belong to Jagex.

The sun broke over the treetops, welcoming a new day to Gielinor, and I stood on the back porch of my studio in Falador. The Barrows Brothers had gone on a shopping trip because Ahrim needed more runes, Karil was out of crossbow bolts, and Verac was complaining that he had no more pretzels. Tylixe, Kari, Galaxy, and Talenith had all decided that they needed more skill in Crafting, and had headed to the Grand Exchange to buy gold bars.

Which left me and Iban alone at the studio.

"We need something interesting to do," I said, pushing myself away from the railing of the porch and heading over to the bench. "Got any ideas?"

Iban just shrugged. "Nope."

"Can't you be cheerful for just five minutes?"

He looked balefully at me.

"No?" I sighed. "Fine."

Five minutes later, I had it. "I'm going to announce a day-long therapy session! Free, and open to anyone. What do you think?"

To my extreme surprise, Iban actually smirked slightly. "I think I know the perfect group of people to invite to it."

Two hours later, Iban was letting a small group of disgruntled-looking people into my studio.

"Seven?" I asked, doing a quick head count. "Aren't you missing a couple?"

Iban nodded. "Hazeel was busy, I couldn't find Khazard, nobody has a clue where Jhallan could be, and Wahisietel and Kharshai have been MIA for centuries."

"Okay, then." I clapped my hands together to call the attention to myself. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me why we're here," Enakhra said, crossing her arms. She glared at Iban. "I'm guessing it's not actually free pizza."

"Is that what you told them all?" I asked him, and he nodded sheepishly. "Nice! You may have some potential in the field of attracting victims with the promise of things they would actually enjoy but will in no way be receiving."

"Thanks, Kina," he said, although he may have been being sarcastic.

I turned back to the group of Mahjarrat. Figuring that most of them wouldn't react well to 'talking about their problems', I said, "So why I actually wanted you guys to come here was so I could interview you. I guess you could say that I'm on a quest to talk to all of Gielinor's most interesting individuals."

"Well, that explains some of it," Zemouregal said, "but what are they doing here?" He jabbed his thumb in the direction of Lucien and Akthanakos.

"I have done thome very interethting thingth in my life, couthin," Lucien said, scowling. "Perhapth even more than yourthelf."

Zemouregal just rolled his eyes.

I sighed. Putting all of the Mahjarrat in the same room may have been a mistake. "So who's going first?" When everyone remained silent, I said, "Alphabetical order, then!"

Akthanakos

"So, Akthanakos," I said, once I had closed the door to my study behind me and we were both seated, "what would you say is your most interesting trait?"

"Well…" He leaned back against the couch that faced my armchair, frowning thoughtfully. "I think it would be my affinity for camels."

I raised my eyebrows. "That's the most interesting thing about you?"

"Yes," he replied. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Don't you think it's a little…odd?" I asked. "You know, having an obsession with camels?"

"It's not an obsession," he said insistently. "I believe I said 'affinity'."

"You did, yes," I agreed, "but have you ever considered finding a hobby?"

"No," he said. "Camels are all that I will ever love."

I snickered at that, but covered it tactfully with a small cough. It seemed unprofessional to laugh at your patients.

"Okay, so you love camels," I said. "Is there anything you really hate?"

His eyes narrowed. "Enakhra. She is the most unpleasant, conniving, manipulative, malicious, despicable…"

I let him go on like that for a little bit longer, as I'd heard that it could be very therapeutic to let out your anger in the form of ranting, but then I interrupted him. I only had the one day for all seven of them, after all.

"So you don't like her?" I asked, though I'd pretty much gathered that already.

He shook his head vehemently. "It's because of her that I was forced to spend centuries as a bone guard in her temple. I'm sure you can't even begin to imagine the horror of my situation, being a short-lived human like you are."

"I suppose not." I glanced down at the clipboard that I was holding for effect and saw that I had doodled a monkey. Interesting. "So would you say that your imprisonment affected your mental health in any way?"

"My mental health?" he asked. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"Well," I said, "do you think you need one?"

He spluttered a little, and I thought I heard a "Well, I never!"

"Can I take that as a yes?" I asked.

Azzanadra

After Akthanakos stalked out of my office, I called in the next Mahjarrat. Azzanadra came in, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating camel-lover.

"What's his problem?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Have a seat."

Azzanadra didn't seem too put out by the fact that he didn't get to find out what was wrong with Akthanakos. From what I'd gathered, they didn't really get along, despite having the same allegiances.

I knew a bit about Azzanadra from past experiences, and I knew exactly where to start this session.

"So, pyramids," I said. "What's your take on them?"

Azzanadra bristled visibly. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I crossed my legs and looked at him over the top of my glasses. "Pyramids."

"I don't like your topic choice," he said. "Pick a new one."

"No," I said. "I like this one. Do you have an opinion or not?"

"I have an opinion," he said, crossing his arms. "I hate pyramids. They're confining, dark, and a bit smelly. Also, some people seem to enjoy using them as a means of trapping other people when they can't kill them."

I resisted the urge to grin. This was an excellent topic choice. "I see. Who was it that trapped you?"

He scowled. "I don't recall saying that this happened to me."

I looked at him disapprovingly. "Let's not hedge around the bush."

Azzanadra frowned. "What?"

"Um, never mind." Was that not actually a saying? "I just meant, don't bother lying. I know what happened to you, and I'm just curious who did it."

"Who do you think did it?" He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the front room. "Zemouregal, Enakhra, et cetera. I believe most of the Zamorakian traitors were in on it."

"So they ganged up on you? No wonder they managed it."

"They wouldn't have," he said, sounding disgruntled. "The only reason they succeeded was because I had used up most of my strength destroying one of the Zamorakian armies already."

"An army?" I asked incredulously. "An entire army? And this was during the God Wars?"

"Yeah." He didn't sound like he thought it was a big deal, which made me wonder how many times he'd done something similar.

"Okay, then." I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, taking the crystal stopper out of a wine jug. With the stopper still in my hand, I turned back around to face the couch. "Would you like some–"

I was interrupted by a hand around my throat.

"Put it down," Azzanadra growled, his face very close to mine. "Now."

My eyebrows shot up. "But I–"

His grip on my windpipe tightened. "Now."

My eyes watering, I opened my hand and let the stopper fall onto the carpet. As soon as I had, Azzanadra reached down and snatched it up, then released me and went back over to the couch.

I rubbed my throat, watching him curiously. "Do you have something against crystal stoppers?"

Still inspecting it, he said, "Crystal? Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah," I said. "Why?"

He tapped it with the tip of his finger, then tossed it back over to me. "Oh. I thought it was a diamond."

He didn't apologize for trying to strangle me, but I hadn't expected him to and didn't really mind.

"So what would the problem have been if it was a diamond?" I asked, placing the stopper back in the jug and returning to the armchair. Azzanadra's reaction to the stopper had entirely eradicated my interest in having a drink. Besides, being nineteen meant that I could only drink legally on Karamja anyway. And possibly in the Wilderness, but I'd never bothered to test that theory.

"I don't like diamonds," he said tersely, not offering any more of an explanation than that.

I wasn't a reporter for nothing, though. "Why not?"

He glowered at me and didn't reply.

"You wouldn't have reacted like that if you just didn't like them," I said. "Is it a childhood fear? Did something happen to you when you were young that had to do with diamonds? Is it like my aunt's extreme and irrational fear that she'll find a vampire in her closet? Do you even know why you're afraid of them? Do you–"

"I'm not afraid of them!" he yelled, and I smiled internally at a job well done. I was very good at annoying people until they answered my questions, and this situation didn't seem to be an exception to that.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It seemed as though you were afraid that I would somehow use it against you. It seems to me that could only mean that you have some fear of diamonds, instigated by someone's use of them in a manner that harmed you."

"Big words," he said, "but let me assure you that you have no idea what you're talking about."

"If that was true, you would have kept ignoring me," I said, then paused. "You know, I'm only trying to help."

He glared at me. "I don't need your help, human."

"I think you need someone's help," I said. "Just tell me why you don't like diamonds."

"Are you going to keep pestering me until I tell you?"

"Count on it," I told him.

He didn't look pleased by that, but he sighed and said, "Diamonds are the tool that those fools used to trap my soul. They split it into four pieces and stuck it into four diamonds."

"Ah," I said. "See? Was that really so hard?"

He just glared at me again.

Bilrach

"Hello, Bill," I said, as the said Mahjarrat sat himself down on my couch. "Can I call you Bill? I've heard that's what most people call you."

"I don't care," he said. "Call me whatever you bloody well feel like calling me. It's not like it'll change anything."

I shrugged. "I suppose that's true. People usually ask, though, out of courtesy."

"Do I look like I give a shit about courtesy?" he asked.

Well. I guess he really was as quick-tempered as I'd heard. "My apologies," I said courteously, the irony of doing so not passing me by. "So do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"Of course I mind," he snapped. "Who wouldn't mind if someone pried into their personal affairs? But ask away, since I'm sure you were going to whether I said you could or not."

I wasn't quite sure what to say to that, which was unusual for me. I was generally quick to overcome awkward situations and have an interesting reply, but this time I was having trouble with it. Should I ask him anything or just kick him out of the room and move on the next Mahjarrat? I wouldn't have wasted much time picking the answer, except for the fact that I was fairly certain that he could kill me with one blow if he felt like it.

But since when was I held back by the threat of mortal peril?

"Right then," I said. "You seem to have figured that out quite well. My first question for you is, um… Oh, I know. How well do you think you work with others?"

"Other Mahjarrat or just other beings?"

"Is there a difference?"

He looked at me incredulously. "There is an enormous difference, little girl."

"I'm nineteen," I said. "I already host two shows and have done both detective and reporting work. I don't appreciate your use of the term 'little girl'."

"Considering that I'm thousands of years older than you," he said, "I reserve the right to call you whatever the hell I feel like calling you."

Okay. He had a point, I guess. "So what's the difference?"

"The difference of what?"

Thousands of years old, huh? Maybe he was going senile and losing his short-term memory. "The difference between working with Mahjarrat and working with other beings."

"When I work with other beings," he said, "I generally have complete control over them by means of threats to their health. I can force them to do whatever I need them to. When I attempt to work with other Mahjarrat, it's much more difficult to do that, and they tend to all think that they're right. They are ridiculously frustrating to work with, and I don't enjoy doing so at all."

"So you prefer to be in absolute control of the situation?" I asked.

"I would think that would be obvious."

"They probably have a name for that kind of disorder," I commented. "Would you like a diagnosis?"

"No I would not bloody like a diagnosis!" he snapped. "Would you like your head to stay connected to your neck?"

Getting the idea, I quickly shut up about disorders. And my thoughtful, well-meaning offer to assist him in managing his anger never left my mouth.

Enakhra

Bilrach courteously held the door open for Enakhra, then slammed it harshly behind him as he left. I marveled at the fact that he could be so strangely bipolar about a door as I waited for my next patient to make herself comfortable, then turned my attention to her.

"Hi," I said, somewhat relieved that I finally got to talk to a female. Maybe she would be a little less volatile. Of course, there was the possibility that Mahjarrat were just volatile in general.

She nodded at me, but offered no other greeting.

"So I heard you built a temple in the desert," I said. "Do you enjoy architecture and construction?"

She looked at me skeptically. "No, not particularly."

I frowned. "Why'd you build a temple, then?"

"I didn't build it," she said. "I had it built in honor of my greatest love."

"Your greatest love?" I repeated.

She sighed. "Zamorak. Don't you know anything?"

"Oh." I paused. "So if he's your 'greatest' love… Do you have other loves?"

Her expression was priceless. "Excuse me?"

I shrugged. "I was just talking about the way you worded it. If he's your only love, maybe you should refer to him differently."

"I have no other loves," she said haughtily. "He is and will always be the only one."

"That's very romantic," I commented. "It must be hard to keep up a relationship while he's stuck on another plane like he is."

Silence.

I bit my lip. "It's unrequited, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you mean," she said, though she sounded rather bitter. "There is no proof that he fails to feel the same way."

I nodded slowly. "Okay. I can see this is a touchy subject." Admittedly, I had meant to find touchy subjects and attempt to help them reconcile, but the Mahjarrat were turning out to be intensely emotional, and I didn't think I really had the skills necessary to help them through their troubles. In fact, I wasn't sure if any therapist anywhere had the skills necessary. "Why don't we move on to something else?"

"How about someone else?" Enakhra suggested, already rising from her chair. "I'm done with this."

Sighing, I waved my hand for her to exit. "Thank you for your time, anyway."

She nodded curtly and left.

This wasn't going quite as well as I had hoped, but I had to admit that I was learning quite a lot about these odd individuals.

Maybe I could publish a book on the subject.

Lucien

"Tho what do you want to thpeak about?" Lucien asked, settling himself onto the sofa.

I could already tell that this was going to be an annoying conversation. I was usually pretty accepting of people's faults, but this lisping thing… Well, I guess I'd just have to see how it went and then kick him out if it really got on my nerves.

"Just about you," I replied simply. "Your achievements, your aspirations, your feelings… That kind of thing."

"Like a counthelor or a therapitht or thomething," Lucien said. I opened my mouth to contradict him before he could walk out on me, but before I could, he said, "Okay, then."

"Excellent," I said, glad that I had finally encountered a cooperative Mahjarrat. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. "So I hear you have the Staff of Armadyl?"

He nodded. "Yeth, that ith true. It wath difficult to plathe my handth on, but I managed it. You thee, it wath originally given to the Guardianth of Armadyl for thafekeeping, and I knew that if I wanted to get at it, I would be forthed to overpower or outthmart them. I wath fairly confidant of my ability to do tho, but I knew it could thtill be a challenge…"

He continued on in a similar manner for nearly five minutes, talking about his great victories and his obvious intelligence and cunning, before I finally said, "It definitely sounds like an adventure. So what do you plan to do, now that you have the Staff?"

His eyes became guarded. "Who'th athking?"

"Um… I am?"

He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, then shrugged and said, "Well, after I thaw what Thamorak did to Tharoth, I realithed that I had the power to do the thame thing. I am, after all, immenthely thmart and powerful, tho why thouldn't I try? My plan ith to find Thamorak and uthe the Thtaff of Armadyl and the Thtone of Jath to defeat him in epic combat, and become a god and the commander of all the Mahtharrat. Onthe I am a god and commander of all the Mahtharrat, I would thtart doing thingth like…"

And on it went. I tried to look interested in what he was saying, but after a few minutes it just got too boring, so I went back to doodling monkeys on my clipboard. Finally I looked at the clock and realized that if I wanted to get to Sliske and Zemouregal before it got dark, I would have to wrap this up.

"Well, Lucien," I said, and I had been paying so little attention to what he was saying that I wasn't even sure if I was interrupting him or not, "I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to any more of your fantastic tales." I didn't think Lucien would pick up on the fact that I had basically called his stories a whole bunch of unbelievable fiction, and he didn't. "I have other people to see to today. It was nice talking to you."

I stood up and went over to the door, holding it open for him. Lucien looked disappointed, but he got up and headed out. Then he stopped in the hallway.

"But I didn't tell you about the time I thaw the great, wild–"

"It's not like I had time for your life's story," I said, trying to smile and make it a joke. "You're a little too ancient to fit that into the time slot. Now please go get Sliske."

Lucien looked like he might argue, but then he turned and headed down the hallway, back toward the front of the studio.

I closed the door and sighed in relief. Thank the gods that was over.

Sliske

Sliske entered the room in a rather reluctant manner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I don't like talking about myself."

"That's okay," I said, trying to be accommodating. "We'll just talk about general subjects. What's your take on… Um…" I paused, trying to think of something. My brain hopped back to the last session that I'd actually been paying attention to. "What's your take on love?"

Sliske looked like I'd slapped him. "Is that supposed to be funny?" he hissed.

I was totally nonplussed. "No…"

He seemed to realize that I had no idea what he was talking about, and he lost the murderous look. "Love is pointless and painful and you're really better off without it," he said shortly.

"What makes you say that?" I asked. He seemed even more bitter than Enakhra.

"Next question."

"You seem like you speak from some sort of experience. Were you rejected or–"

He glared at me. "I said, next question."

"Fine, fine," I said, giving up. He didn't seem to be as easily manipulated as Azzanadra had been, and having had five taxing sessions already, I wasn't as eager to interrogate him. "So is it true that you're responsible for the alleged deaths of the Barrows Brothers?"

"Yes," he replied. "Last fun thing I did." He paused. "What do you mean 'alleged deaths'?"

"I've met them," I said. "I have an interview show with them, held right here in this studio."

"Bullshit," Sliske said bluntly. "I killed them. And even if I hadn't, it's been centuries since they fought in the God Wars. They were only human, with pathetic human lifespans."

"Maybe you just think they're only human," I suggested. "Maybe what you did to them made them live longer."

"Don't be dumb," he said. "That's ridiculous. They're dead."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. "If that's what you want to believe."

He narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to see the lie in my eyes, and I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had the ability to do so, but in the end he didn't pursue the subject.

Zemouregal

"How was the talk with Sliske?" Zemouregal asked me as he sat down, sounding as though just the idea of trying to talk to Sliske amused him.

"Interesting," I said. "It was better than talking to Lucien."

"I'm ashamed to be related to that whiny moron," he said disgustedly. "What a fool."

Well. I seemed to be making small talk with a Mahjarrat. What a weird turn of events. I couldn't decide if I should try to continue it or just come out with a question about him.

"So what exactly did you want to talk about?" Zemouregal asked, deciding for me.

I shrugged. "My original plan didn't end up working out, so I've mostly just been following interesting conversations. Anything you want to offer up?"

"I'm a necromancer," he said. "Is that interesting?"

I nodded. "Raising and controlling the dead? Of course that's interesting. What's your favorite part about it?"

"Either having weak-minded slaves that obey my every command," he replied, "or having the ability to form enormous undead armies to overrun cities."

"Both are cool," I agreed. "I have to say, though, that I'd heard the 'overrunning cities' thing wasn't going so well for you. How many times have you tried to take over Varrock now?"

He scowled. "I'll get it eventually."

"'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again,'" I quoted. "But then there's what my dad always used to say; 'Try it once to see, try it twice for good measure, but try it three times and you're just being stupid'. I think I almost like that one better."

"Your dad didn't know what he was talking about," Zemouregal said. "Every time you fail, you figure out what not to do and improve your chances of winning the next time."

"That's a good attitude," I said, "but don't you think the enemy learns every time too?"

He didn't reply to that.

When we were all gathered back in the front room, I smiled around at all of the Mahjarrat. "Thank you guys for putting up with this. I found all of you–" Most of you. "Very interesting, and I would honestly be interested in talking more with any one of you." Almost any one of you. "If I decided to put together an essay or compilation of today's conversations, who would sue me if I published it?"

Everyone, even Lucien of the bragging mouth, raised their hand.

"Oh," I said, disappointed. "Alright." I paused. "Well, it was nice talking to you. I hope you all have a nice rest of your day."

Once they had all left, Iban asked, "So how did it go?"

"It didn't go quite like I expected it to," I replied, "but I certainly learned things about them I never thought I would. Most of them seem really conflicted, but they're so interesting! If they weren't so temperamental, I might want to get to know most of them better."

Iban snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Well, maybe someday," I said, shrugging. Then I went out onto the porch to watch the sun set, saying farewell to another day in Gielinor.

A/N: If anyone didn't understand Lucien because of the way I wrote his lisping, let me know and I'll post a translation either in another chapter or down here at the end. Unless you don't care what he said, in which case I won't bother. Also, if anyone is insanely curious about what I was talking about in the first half of Sliske's session, well… Too bad. I'm not telling anyone that for fear of spoiling upcoming chapters of Shadows of a Lost Mind. If you really want to know, you'll have to go read that and wait for me to reveal it over there.

Reviews make my day, especially on oneshots like this that I know will get lost in the archives and probably not gather very many more readers other than the ones it gets when it first comes out. I know a lot of people don't like reviewing, especially in this fandom, but I REALLY LIKE REVIEWS. They make me feel like my writing these fics is somehow worth my time. So please, please, please, if you read it, review it. I don't care if you just say, "It's good", and I have anonymous reviews enabled, so you don't even have to have an account.

I'll stop begging now. I hope you enjoyed the fic. Have a nice day. =)