A/N: Hm. Over 400 hits, only 5 reviews. That seems a bit unbalanced.

"And what do you see now, Randy?"

Randy was too busy doodling designs on his white pants. They were similar to his tribal tattoos; harsh, jagged lines connected and bound around a swirling center.

"Randy, please pay attention."

Randy lifted his eyes and found Doctor Mead smiling comfortingly at him, his sad gaze surprisingly bright. Randy pursed his lips. "What are you thinkin', Doc?"

He cringed slightly. It just wasn't the same.

Doctor Mead didn't notice. "We're not here to discuss what I'm thinking, Randy. We're here to help you figure out what you're thinking."

Randy shrugged, continuing to draw. "You just look sad, is all."

"I'm not, Randy, believe me." He smiled and picked up another card. "Can you tell me what you see, Randy?"

"Can I smoke in here?"

"No, Randy. Now what do you see?"

No matter what, the guy didn't crack. Randy had to hand it to him.

He pulled at his pant leg slightly and looked at his art. It had turned creepy, long sweeping motions that scribbled over his previous work.

"Randy, are you bored?"

Randy looked up again and shook his head. "Nah, Doc. You're entertaining me just fine."

Doctor Mead laughed, putting his stuff down. "Listen, I can tell you're not interested in what we're doing here. How about we take a walk down to the Activities Center? Doctor Hutch is having a wonderful seminar about the power of thought."

Randy frowned slightly. "No, thanks."

"It'd be good to get you out of this room. You seem antsy."

"I'm a prisoner in here. Wouldn't you be antsy?"

"Oh, Randy, you're not a prisoner." Doctor Mead patted his shoulder. "I don't want you to feel that way, ever. This is a safe place, a place for you to open up. This is the place where you can actually be free."

Randy scoffed, looking up at him. "You sell a lot of bullshit, Doc."

"I'm only speaking the truth."

Randy shrugged and glanced away.

Doctor Mead sighed. Picked up his stuff. "I'll leave you to your thoughts, Randy. I just hope you'll reconsider going down there with me one day. It really is a nice environment."

"I'm fine right here."

Doctor Mead frowned at Randy's pants. "We're going to have to get you some new clothes."

Randy grimaced. "I just wanted to put some color into this room."

"Your soul and mind is colorful enough." He smiled, plucking his walkie talkie from his waistband. He turned away. "Patient 04011980 needs a new uniform," he ordered quietly.

Randy smiled at his hands.

This is the place where he can actually be free?

He didn't even have a name.

"I... I've been having these dreams where I'm running, but I don't know where I'm running. And because I don't know where I'm running, I start to panic because I can't find my way out. And because I can't find my way out, that must mean I'm lost, and if I'm lost, I panic even more because I don't handle being alone very well."

Lily let out a loud sigh and scribbled in the corner of her legal pad. "And how does that make you feel?" she asked monotonously, not even bothering to look at her patient.

The patient wrung his hands weakly. "Well... I wake up with a whole slew of emotions coursing inside of me. And I sometimes wet the bed."

Lily covered her face. "Well, I think you're afraid."

"How so?"

"You're afraid to be out on your own. To be independent." She looked up finally, and noticed the guy's eyes were the same color as Randy's. "You're afraid to take a chance."

He pulled at his collar. "R-Really?"

"Yes. And because you don't realize that, your subconscious is running rampant, trying to find a way to tell you that you can't handle what you're doing."

"Well, I did just move out of my parents' house."

"See? Changes are usually what open up this wild ride of emotions. You just need to harbor it, and turn it into positive energy."

"Should I just move back in with them?"

"What?" Lily shook her head. "No, no, just accept your change. Your nightmares will go away."

"And if they don't?"

"That's a chance you'll have to take."

The guy smiled weakly, uncertainly. "Okay. I mean... th-thank you, Doctor."

Doc.

Lily ran a hand down her face. "No problem. Give me a call if anything else happens."

She stood up to shake his hand, but he stepped back.

"I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "I don't touch other people. Too many germs."

"Ah." Lily curled her fingers back. "You got it. Take care."

He paused. "Uh, would you mind, uh, opening—"

"Oh." Lily went around her desk and opened the door. "There you go."

"Thank you, Doctor."

She slammed it after him and then just leaned against it. But the second she closed her eyes, someone knocked. Lily sighed and opened it back up again.

Steven smiled at her. "Hey. Wanna grab some lunch?"

Lily shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Why? You haven't taken a lunch break for the past week."

"I'm not hungry," she grumbled. "And I have a lot of work."

"You sure you're okay?" He leaned on the doorway, hands in his pockets.

Lily's mind flashed to Randy in that same position, the second day they'd met.

She shook her head clear. "Yeah."

Steven frowned. "You look a little sick."

"I... I think I have something. A cold maybe."

"Well..." Steven straightened. "If you need to take the rest of the day off, just tell me and I'll figure something out."

"Thanks, Steven." Lily rubbed at her forehead. "I'm gonna... get back to work now."

"Okay," he said uncertainly. He smiled. "Enjoy yourself, Doc."

Lily just blinked at him, then shut the door.

Randy looked up at the kid across the table from him. "Hey. Boy. You there."

The kid was meek and pale, with slick black hair that fell into his eyes. He was curled in on himself, glancing sideways every few seconds. He didn't look up when Randy called him.

Randy slammed his hand against the table. "Boy, look at me when I'm talking to you."

The kid looked up through the greasy strands of his hair.

Randy nodded. "Got a pencil?"

He shook his head and averted his gaze.

Randy sighed and sat back. He decided to give that Activities Center a chance, but there was no way in hell he was going to talk to another shrink. Now he was just stuck at a table with this creepy little weirdo while other patients milled around aimlessly.

Randy stared at his company. "What are you here for?"

The kid was shivering. Shivering. "I tried to kill myself," he breathed.

"What a coincidence—I tried to kill someone."

The kid folded his arms a little tighter.

"Why would you want to kill yourself?"

The kid's mouth opened slightly. "Why would I want to live?"

"Because you're what? Seventeen? You got your whole life ahead of you."

"I'm thirty-four," he said quietly.

"Whoa." Randy bared his teeth. "Uh... sorry."

The kid lifted his hand, fingers shaking violently, and touched his lips. His gaze fell on Randy and stayed there.

Randy shifted awkwardly. "So, uh—"

"I'm going to tonight."

"Going to what?"

"Kill myself," he whispered.

Randy blanched. "Uh, well... good?"

"I mean... haven't you ever just wanted to be free?"

Randy was about to say something, but he paused. He glanced over at the doctors watching them, at the others watching the door. Other nutjobs were just wandering around, drawing pretty pictures or poking themselves with pencils.

No one was listening.

Haven't you ever just wanted to be free?

Randy leaned forward. "What time are you planning on doing this, exactly?"

"Are you going to talk to me tonight?"

Lily kept slamming around the kitchen, opening the pantry door to search for a spice, opening cupboards to get plates. She went back to the stove wordlessly.

"Well, good, 'cause I wasn't going to talk to you either."

She went over to the spice rack and picked up a container of cayenne pepper, dumping half of it into the sauce she was making.

"What are you doing!" Jim came over to her and grabbed it. "I'm allergic to cayenne pepper!"

"Good," she said briskly, turning around to cut up shrimp on the center island.

"Good? What are you trying to do, kill me?"

She didn't answer, just snapped the knife against the cutting board.

Jim stared at her narrowly. "Who you trying to impress? Randy?"

The knife slipped.

Jim smirked and walked around so he was facing her. "You trying to kill me so you'll look tough enough to hang with Randy and his murdering comrades?"

"Stop talking," she said emotionlessly.

"Stop moping around."

She slammed the knife down. "I'm not moping around!"

"Bullshit! Steven called me today. At work. During a meeting with a client from Japan. He was worried about you because you haven't talked to anyone in over a week."

"I don't have anything to say," she said defensively.

"The point is, everyone's noticed you've had a stick up your ass and they're worried about you. Why don't you just fucking admit that you were having an affair with that jackass so we don't have to keep up with this charade?"

Lily had to laugh. "An affair?" She looked at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Why not? He's a famous wrestler."

"Oh, yeah, let me jump right into bed with him."

"You did, didn't you?"

Lily rolled her eyes and continued to stir. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You're being the ridiculous one!" Jim went closer to her. "Don't turn your back to me, listen—"

She had the knife at his stomach when he tried to grab her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

Jim looked down, then back at her face. He let go, hands up, and walked backwards.

She glared at him before she put the knife down with a crack.

"You're out of your fucking mind," he snarled, after a moment of silence. She heard him snap his jacket off the back of the chair. "I'm going out for a beer. I'll eat something there."

"Fine with me," she said quietly.

"If you want to call me when you actually become the Lily I used to know, feel free." There were angry footsteps, and then the door slammed.

Feel free.

Funny. She felt anything but.

I need to get out of here.

A/N: Yeah, yeah. Review. Or I'll spear you.