Jack fidgeted restlessly in his seat. He longed for something to read, or even to review. It felt as though all he'd been doing these past few days was lurk about and wait, and he was weary of it.

At least this wasn't a hospital, he reflected. He had been so eager to leave that horrid place behind, he had barely taken notice of the fact that Anne hadn't uttered a word during the 18 hour drive. Upon their arrival in Kemptville, he'd found the right address, where they were welcomed by the man who'd been expecting them.

Once inside, a housekeeper retrieved their coats and hats, and they followed Dr. Lebrun into his sitting room. Over tea, the doctor had immediately gotten to business.

"You've come quite far to seek me out, I think it only fair not to delay things any longer. Mr. Garrison, you've read my articles, so you must be aware that while I am a doctor, my methods are highly unorthodox. I am a specialist of the mind, and the treatments I offer are based on speech and observation. Only in the most extreme situations would I ever consider prescribing medication, to be administered under my strict supervision. Are we clear on this much so far?"

Jack nodded. Anne simply stared vacantly, her tea left untouched. Dr. Lebrun did not seem phased by this. He continued: "Then I would suggest an evaluation. We will have a consultation, after which I will recommend treatment, and we can begin once consent is given all around. Does this sound reasonable?"

"Honestly, Doctor, this is the most reasonable proposition I've heard so far."

"Very well, then, Mr. Garrison, we will be back in a while. I can have Hilda brew another pot of tea while you wait." The men had shaken hands, and the doctor had steered Anne to his office, leaving Jack alone once again to wait. His sixth sense had told him that they would be fine.

Left to his own devices, he wondered what type of evaluation was going on.

o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:o:

Anne stared at the man in front of her. He must have been in his fifties, perhaps even his sixties, and disturbingly resembled the illustration of a german St Nicholas (she'd seen it in a children's book she'd offered Little Fred on his sixth birthday). A headful of white cotton hair with a moustache and beard to match, pronounced nose and rounded cheekbones, average yet imposing frame of a body. One of his legs was casually propped over the other; his elbows rested on the arms of his chair, his hands steepled in front of his mouth. He stared at her with clear blue eyes that hid under impressively bushy eyebrows, and seemed to see right through her.

Eventually, the silence began to unnerve her. "Am I-" she cleared her throat, which had gone rusty from lack of use. "Are we supposed to be doing something?"

Dr. Lebrun uncrossed his legs and straightened up in his seat. "What would you like to do?" he asked, his voice oddly neutral.

"I thought - you would be examining me. Or something."

"Very well. How do you propose I should do that?"

"I don't know! You're the doctor," she pointed out, somewhat irritated.

"Anne - may I call you Anne?" She nodded: he continued. "Anne, do you know what kind of doctor I am?"

"You're a doctor of the mind," she supplied.

"That's right. I deal with your inner workings. I look inside your body, not within it. No stethoscope or tongue depressor is going to reveal to me anything I would need to know. My field of expertise lies beyond the physical: it's your thinking, your imagination, your emotions, that I need to see."

She fixed him curiously. "If you'll allow me to say so, you are the most unusual doctor I have ever met. And coming from me, that is something."

"Met a lot of doctors, have you?"

"I-..." She blinked in wonder. How had he done it? Since she'd woken up in the hospital, she had been unable to string more than three consecutive words to a man who had been more than a friend in times of duress. Yet, here she was, words tumbling out of her mouth as though mind doctors were the most natural topic of conversation, and with a stranger she'd only met minutes ago! To make matters worse, he was now smiling in earnest.

"I think that you are ready to begin. We've found our first key: doctors. Tell me, Anne, was it your husband, or your father who was one?"

She ought to have been seething, but couldn't help being impressed. Squashing her amusement, she bit out: "My husband. I never knew my father."

"There is our second key - we will get to your upbringing issues later."

"Issues?" she repeated indignantly.

"Well, was it not a source of problems in your life?"

"No! I mean, yes, but- it's most certainly not a topic for polite conversation!" She wondered if he could see vapor rising from her ears.

"And a reluctance to discuss. Family seems not only to be our second key, it is the central one as well."

"I HAVE NO FAMILY!" she bellowed. The shock that she felt at her own outburst made her blood stop cold in her veins, and she thought she might freeze. It took tremendous efforts to kick herself back in place. "Had. I meant 'had'. I 'had' no family. Well, I did, I just wasn't- not when-..." Flustered, her face was now too warm, her voice trembled, her fingers shook. "...I do have family. Now. But not before- well, everybody has family, but...and now that I've gone and...Oh, I am the worst..."

The doctor held out a handkerchief to her, which she accepted gratefully to hastily wipe at her eyes and nose.

"I'm here to help you, Anne," he said gently. "But I can only do so if you want to be helped."

She looked up at him desperately. "I do," she whispered. "Please. I really do wish for help."

His smile returned. "Then I believe I can help you. You may freshen up while I have a word with Mr. Garrison, and we shall begin our sessions tomorrow."