Monday, Monday. For some, it was an unwelcome return to the grindstone, a forced activity that most despised. For Christine, it was a liberation from the pointless nothings of the weekend, the phone conversations that dragged on with nothing being said, the evenings out with nothing for company but booze. For her, the only good part of the weekend was family dinner on Sunday. Other than that, the less said of the weekend, the better.

Nadia, the receptionist, handed her the roster of duties for the day. Christine greeted her, slipping on a new white coat, which was hanging in the hallway, and glanced over her schedule. She was counseling the little Knorr girl again today…the poor kid had had anorexia nervosa since she was 8 years old. Five years and almost constant counseling later, she was still continually hovering just above the danger zone. Christine was very close to just recommending her to one of the institutions where she could receive constant care, but she had gained a half-pound last week and she was not about to give up hope yet.

After that, she usually took care of several other chronics. There was one girl, Dana Whaler, who was recently in for therapy for bulimia, and several other adults for the same problem as well.

But the name on her roster was different this time. A new name. Erik. Christine was taken aback. She ordered a cup of strong coffee from the machine in the hall (she hadn't had much sleep last night) and tried again.

Nope. No last name this time either. Typo, her logical brain told her. No one could possibly get treatment without insurance, let alone a last name. Well, almost no one could. If you were rich enough, then you could pay out of pocket, but who even bothered? Even the ability to pay straight cash was becoming rarer and rarer…most hospitals demanded insurance, for safety's sake alone.

She sighed, anticipating a long, drawn-out conversation with her supervisor, but a quick glance at her watch told her that wouldn't be a possibility until just before her first meeting with this enigmatic Erik.

Well, there was no time to think about it now. She had to hurry to meet the Knorr family on time. The two parents were visiting today, and she wanted to refresh her memory on the girl's file, because her parents always asked the most particular questions.

"Rebecca," Christine's voice was tired and dispirited, "doesn't this Erik guy have a medical history?"

The brunette woman looked at her, puzzled, and then groaned. "Didn't Nadia give you the file?"

"I only got his name on my roster," Christine offered her another cup of coffee, which was gratefully accepted, "and nothing else."

"Damn." Rebecca Carlisle swore. She had a very difficult job, managing both professional doctors and graduate students, plus balancing all the undergraduate programs that happened each day in her hospital. "Carlotta must not have given her the file. That girl, I swear…" Her voice trailed off. Knowing how the situation lay between Carlotta and Christine, she was loathe to criticize either of them. It would just be adding gunpowder to their stored ammunition.

She rose quickly and unlocked the master file case behind her desk. "Here," she said, handing over a thick dossier, "take that for today, I'll have Nadia make another copy if you drop it off as you leave tonight."

Christine scanned the first few pages quickly, irritated that she did not have the time to examine the file in depth, and said, almost absently, "Carly had this guy before me?"

"Yeah." Rebecca's attention was already on some documents lying spread on her desk, "This guy has been bouncing from department to department for years; apparently, no one's ever made a proper diagnosis. He's an enigma, for several reasons that you'll shortly see. His condition since he came to us has long since stabilized, but I really think that he enjoys watching us flounder. He's a difficult guy; I worked with him the longest, I suppose. I thought Carly, having so much experience in this field, would be able to get close to the truth, but apparently he couldn't stand her, and requested someone else."

Christine smirked. "Yes, well, that sounds like our Carly."

Rebecca fixed her with a firm look. "Christine…"

The smaller woman shook her head and looked back down at the file, the smile slowly fading from her face.

The two of them read in respective silence for several more minutes until Rebecca spoke again.

"Christine," the other woman's head shot up, "This guy is difficult to work with. I picked you for this job, even though you have several other cases, because I think that you've got the thing that can get past his defenses. You're sweet and sympathetic, and I think that's what he needs. But trust me, keep your relationship professional! The idea of being close friends with this guy will be the first thing that occurs to you to get past his mental barriers…don't try it. I did, and I don't think I'll ever be able to…" Rebecca's face was distant and disturbed; Christine was instantly concerned.

But abruptly, she seemed to recover. "Well, anyway…" she chuckled weakly, shaking her head, "just be careful, okay? Now get out of here," her face was flustered as she shuffled the papers on her desk, "I've got tons of work to finish up before tonight."

Christine quietly left the room. She checked her watch, and ordered another cup of coffee before she went to the staff room to review the file in the fifteen minutes before her appointment with the elusive Erik.

The man's file was perhaps the largest she had ever seen. Two inches thick, stuffed with doctor's reports, psychological analyses, medical records and medicinal history…the list went on and on.

The first glance through the files still left nothing but a blank in her mind. She couldn't understand why this man was being given over to her care…she treated weight or mental hiccups, not severe psychosis! His problem seemed, from all that she read, to be much more severe than what she was used to. If she had had say over this man's fate, she would have sent him to the doctors who treated things like…multiple personality or identity dismorphic.

But then again, no one seemed to even have a clear guess of what was wrong with the man. He'd been through every psychological profiling possible, and yes, while there were common elements, there was too little to make a clear estimate of his problem.

'Insecurity…violence…paranoia…eccentricity'

Those were the four words repeated most often, but what they pointed to, apparently no one could tell. Paranoia and violence corresponded well enough, but the word eccentricity was helplessly vague.

She had only glanced over about half the file before another glance at her watch showed her that she was already two minutes late. Snarling to herself and downing the last drizzles of coffee, Christine grabbed the file and hightailed it to the room where Erik must already be waiting. If there was something that Christine absolutely despised, it was being late.