A/N: Writer's block is evil… but here's the next chapter! Hope it's enjoyable. I'll have to change the rating to 'T' soon, though. It may turn into quite a dark story… but thank you for reading and reviewing! The mystery continues!

This Chapter: Scratchy's Point of View

Next Chapter: See Above

It was dark in my office; I hadn't bothered to turn on a light apart from my desk lamp. It was nice to get away from the glare every once in a while, and I revelled in the peace that I knew in exactly ten minutes would shatter. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs to support the notebook I set upon my knee. Anyone watching would assume that I was reviewing my notes on the day's appointments, but that wasn't the case as I scribbled down a few more straight lines. A small cartoon face appeared on the page – a design of my own invention. It wasn't a very good drawing, but I really couldn't do much better. I sighed and flipped the page back to my previous notes, but I couldn't focus. I had to figure out how to make it subtle; ask questions that wouldn't sound too suspicious. The Warners would probably figure it out within a minute anyway, considering my usual luck with them. After that, they would probably avoid the topic, or any topic remotely close to it; then I'd have to start over again just to earn their trust back. Oh well, I have to take risks. I consider it part of my job – especially since I work with actors. Some of them even come to me believing that they really are the characters they're playing.

I glanced at the clock. Two minutes. They'd arrive at seven-thirty on the dot, they always made a point of it, stating that they're too polite to be late, but not enthusiastic about the appointment enough to be early. I fiddled with my pencil, twirling it on the desk until it skidded to the edge and fell off. One minute. Now I was getting a bit nervous. I braced myself to literally hit the ceiling when they popped out of who knows where; the clock hit seven-thirty – and nothing happened. Seven thirty-one: nothing. Seven thirty-two: nothing. The minutes passed a lot slower than they would if I hadn't been paying attention. This was not normal for the Warners, and if anyone knew their habits, I did.

Finally, four minutes late, the Warners walked in. Yes, walked. Wakko opened the door and stepped through, closely followed by Dot and then Yakko, who closed the door quietly behind himself. Quietly. The confusion I felt must have been plainly displayed on my face, for Yakko gave up a small grin.

"V-vhy are you late?" I stammered. It was the only thing that came to mind at that moment.

"Only by four minutes," Wakko answered as if it wasn't a big deal. I suppose to the average observer, it really wasn't a big deal; but I am a p-sych... a psychiatrist and I knew that four minutes was a long time for the Warners.

"But you are never late!" I said, exasperated. What was wrong with them today? It was the complete opposite of how they usually acted. Just yesterday they were abnormal – which is normal for them. Today... not so much. Then a thought struck me. Maybe my talk with Yakko last night was the culprit. Then they probably already knew what I was up to. I sighed and leaned further into my chair, covering my face with a hand. I had no idea how to start this. My mind had long since drawn a blank. I therefore found myself quite surprised when Dot spoke up.

"Scratchy," she started, "We've got something to tell you." I glanced up to see her look at Wakko, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement. She looked nervous.

"Vhat is it, Dot?" I asked gently, trying to convey to her that she could trust me; all three of them could. "Vhat is said in this room, stays here." That seemed to make her feel a little better.

"We've decided that we'll answer your questions – about earlier."

"Since you seem to want to know," Yakko added. I should've seen that coming. I'll admit I was a little taken aback at their willingness to talk, but my curiosity overcame me.

"Vhat happened to your leg?" I felt like I was being a bit abrupt, like I should probably ease into the question instead of simply asking at the first opportunity, but I couldn't help it.

"Broke it; didn't heal right," Yakko answered. It was a very simple answer, not what I was hoping for, but exactly what I had expected.

"Und vhat about in the meeting room today? I have never heard that tone of voice from you." By the expressions on their faces I could tell that that question was going to be a lot harder to pass over lightly. It probably wasn't the sort of thing that they could just explain away, either. Dot and Wakko glanced at Yakko, who seemed to be the one making the decision whether to answer with the complete truth or not. They had probably talked over this before, but they must not have come to a definite conclusion.

"Eeeeh, it's kind of a long story..." Yakko said, looking to the floor. He was still hesitant. Hesitance was a definite sign of a possible hardship or some sort of unbearable embarrassment somewhere in his past. I was instantly intrigued.

"Vill you tell me?" I asked. Yakko looked up at me.

"No." I was expecting that answer, so I was able to cover up the look of disappointment easily enough. But I couldn't help wishing that the answer had been different.

"But I'll show you."