A/N: Hope this clears up your questions, Voughn! And not all psychologists are like this, of course. My neighbor is actually a very nice one. :)

My longest chapter yet! I hope y'all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SPIRITED AWAY. I think Miyazaki would have a problem with that.

Chapter Ten: Rendezvous

"So your young man—"

"He's not my young man," I interrupted testily. "It's just Haku."

"Oh, well, right," Mr. Greene floundered, looking abashed. I sighed and rolled over on my side, trying to get comfortable. Vinyl lounges at the psychiatrist's office are no where near as snuggly as they look in the movies.

At least Mr. Greene's lounge was by the window. The sun was setting, and I watched as it cast a wall of spiky light behind a small wall of clouds. I couldn't see any of the skyscrapers that I knew were around somewhere—Mr. Greene's office was at the very edge of the downtown professional area of town and his office was facing the residential area, not the city. The houses looked golden-red, as if they were on fire. I almost wished they were on fire, so I'd have an excuse to cut the session short. I glanced at my watch impatiently. I had another ten minutes. Dammit.

"So this Haku person… He was trying to save you?"

I rolled back to face him. He wasn't all that bad looking—his beer belly was only puffy, not drooping over his belt like most of my other psychologists, and his glasses gave his face some badly-needed maturity. His eyes were watery, though, and I could see his hairline retreating already, though he couldn't be more than maybe thirty.

"Yes."

"But, ah…" Mr. Greene rifled through the pages of my journal. "Here, and here," he said at last, pointing to my scrawling handwriting. I didn't even try to read it. "Apparently Haku has tried to save you a number of times."

I rolled my eyes. "Your point?"

"Why was his trying to save you from the frog so strange?" he asked patiently.

I scowled and sat up, leaning my elbow on the lounge armrest and ignoring the ominous creaking. "It was…well, it just was!" I looked away, cursing my cheeks as I felt myself turn red. Mr. Greene waited for me to elaborate. I scowled and turned to face him again. "I guess it was because he was never so…physical about the rescues before. You know? Like…" I tapped my chin with a finger, forgetting my irritation as I searched for the words. "Like he'd put in a good word or two, guide me, but he'd let me make all the decisions for myself. Like, if it didn't require any effort on his part, he'd help me, but if I screwed up and got myself killed again, he didn't worry about it."

Mr. Greene didn't say anything for a little while. He merely turned back to that night's entry and re-read it. I watched his lips form the words on the page. While I could only make out a few of them, I groaned in my head when I realized which part he was reading: "…and the look in his eyes was like Joe's had been this morning: furious and angry and—" Mr. Greene frowned and tried to mouth out the word, and I thanked my lucky stars that I had come to my senses enough while writing to very firmly scribble out that last word.

But, of course, my luck wasn't all that great. "Who is Joe, Valkyrie?" Mr. Greene asked lightly, gesturing at the page.

I silently groaned again. Figures Mr. Green would ask about him. 'Til now, I'd managed to keep Joe out of the conversations. Surprisingly, it'd been rather difficult, as I'd felt this giant urge to vent all my frustration (…and confusion…) with the whole Joe-situation. It'd been two days since I'd come down with the 24 hour bug, and I'd been on the mend by the next morning. Unfortunately, the next morning'd been a Saturday. I'd had a perfectly reasonable excuse to skip school for once, but there'd been no school to skip.

It was Monday now, and Joe hadn't been back in school today. I was a little worried, but I was sure he'd be fine. I'd done all I could and I had no reason to fret at all. Wasn't my place to be clucking over him like some mama hen. I couldn't help but be anxious for him, though. After all, it was Mr. Smith who was looking after him. Maybe I'd better check up on him after this stupid appointment…

"—Valkyrie?"

I snapped back to the present. "Sorry. What?"

"You were going to tell me about, ah, Joe."

"Was I?" I asked with a smirk. Mr. Greene's frown deepened.

"Yes, you were," he said sternly.

I sighed and moved my other elbow to the armrest so I could prop my head on both my palms. "He's a kid at school."

"Interesting…" He flipped through my journal yet again. "I don't recall a name that wasn't in your dreams being anywhere else in this journal."

"Yeah, well, no one is all that interesting at school," I snapped.

Mr. Greene smiled a tad smugly. Strangely, it reminded me of David. "But—what was it? Joe?—is interesting enough to merit mention here."

"I'm not really thinking when I write in there," I protested. "It's mostly reflex; I didn't mean to write about him."

"But you did," Mr. Greene pointed out. "The fact that you didn't mean to says that you're thinking about him a lot, even if it's just in your subconscious." He looked at me with a superior, I-know-something-you-don't-know-and-or-won't-admit look on his face. "Is there something you want to talk about, Valkyrie?"

I groaned out loud this time. Psychologists were glorified, overpaid gossips. "No."

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

My temper flared and I stood up. Mr. Greene blinked in surprise. "If I wanted to be interrogated about my social life, Mr. Greene, I would let my brother do it!" I hissed. I held out my hand for my journal, somehow preventing myself from just ripping it out of his hands so it would be safe again. Oh, how I hated to let other people have it! I imagined that I could see the sweaty palm marks on the beautiful red leather cover.

Mr. Greene weighed the journal in his palm, as if wondering if he should really give it back. He glanced at me and must've seen something in my face that threatened violence if he kept it much longer because he sighed a little and gave it back. "Until next week, then."

I nodded brusquely. "Next week." I left without saying goodbye, but who cared? I (or rather, my parents) was paying him to cure me, not to teach me etiquette.

The receptionist looked up from her Vogue magazine when I walked into the office, but when she saw me she turned back to her reading. I hoped there was an article in there called "How to Get a Life." If anyone needed help with that, it was this pathetic thirty-year-old woman who dyed her hair until it looked like crispy yellow straw and wore shirts that would be too small for a girl over twenty years her junior.

I banged out of the office and into the stairwell, trying to cram my journal into my bulging backpack and walk down the stairs at the same time. I wasn't looking where I was going—never a good idea when walking down stairs—so when I took another step down, I felt myself slam into someone else. I gasped in shock and tried to pull back, but my momentum had already taken over any sort of control I had over my body. All my attempts to stop the inevitable did was swing my legs out from underneath me so that I lost all traction with the concrete. We fell down the last little bit of the flight—thank God I'd only been a little bit away from the ground floor—and landed in a heap of limbs and hair.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" I twittered. I scrambled off of the groaning guy and offered him a hand. "Can I help you…" My voice died away as a pair of emerald—and very amused—eyes stared at me.

"Why do we always have these conversations, Val-san?" Joe asked conversationally as he grabbed my hand. I automatically pulled, and Joe levered himself up from the floor, jumping a little to catch his balance.

"What conversations?" I asked, hastily stepping away from him. He'd come up really close, close enough that I had to tilt my head uncomfortably far to look at him properly. I was moving so that I could be comfortable. Really. I was.

Joe frowned a little when I moved. "The ones which end with you apologizing to me." He chuckled, his good humor restored, and stepped closer.

I chuckled with him even as I moved back. "But I started this conversation with an apology," I pointed out.

Joe sighed and stepped closer, shaking his head with mock sadness. "Ah, Val-san, why must you always get the last word?"

My back hit a wall. Dammit! I'd let him back me into a corner. I felt an irrational panic bloom within my chest and Joe must've seen it because he smirked and came even closer.

"It's one of my charms," I breathed. I couldn't seem to get any air into my lungs. It felt like I was drowning.

Joe chuckled again and leaned back. I took a deep breath that was almost a gasp, desperate for oxygen. Joe looked at me and grinned. Evil amusement made his dark eyes glitter in the dim light.

"Are you alright, Val-san?" he asked solicitously, his grin widening into a broad smile. His teeth flashed.

I felt my temper rise—he was obviously teasing me—but I got a hold of it before it could take over. He was intentionally baiting me, and I would not respond!

"I'm fine," I answered breezily, and brushed past him to the door, my heart barely speeding up as my bare shoulder caught the edge of his dark blue t-shirt.

"Wait for me!" Joe yelled, and I held the door open for him as he jogged past me to the sidewalk.

We fell into step together, side by side, but never touching. I was grateful for that—the evening was humid, a sign of a hot summer to come, and my skin was sticky and sweaty. Joe, of course, looked cool as ever. He wasn't even sweating. His hair was still loose, I saw. It was around his shoulders, swinging freely. I thought I could see dark green highlights when a panel of hair caught the fading sunlight. The ends were all different lengths, as if it'd been layered. I frowned.

Joe caught me staring while we waited for the crossing light to turn green. "Nani?"

"English, please," I said absently. Joe scowled. I ignored him and clarified, "It's your hair."

Joe pursed his lips and grabbed a fistful of hair, peering at it intently. "What's wrong with my hair?"

I laughed at his expression. He looked so worried! Even more so after I laughed, actually. "What?!" he practically squawked, which didn't help my composure at all.

I eventually calmed enough to squeak, "Jeez, Joe, you're so vain!"

Joe smiled a little, almost despite himself, and dropped his hair. He was quiet for a few seconds. "What is 'vain'?"

"Vain is…" I looked for the easiest way to explain it to a non-native English speaker. "Self-conscious." He still looked confused. "Um… you're really worried about how you look. Gouman."

Joe's eyes grew wide when he heard me. I squeaked and clasped a hand over my mouth. "I didn't mean to say that," I said through my fingers.

"Obviously," Joe said dryly. "And I am not gouman," he added.

"I must've been thinking 'conceited' in my head," I said, my hand still muffling my mouth. "It doesn't have quite the same connotations in English."

"Actually," Joe said conversationally while he started across the street and I trailed behind him like some stupid lost puppy, "Gouman means..." He jumped onto the sidewalk while he thought. "It means 'self-respect'...or 'pride in one's appearance'." He smiled condescendingly down at me. "Not quite so negative, I think."

I huffed and pinched his arm in irritation. He yelped and rubbed his arm. "What was that for?"

"You're being a prick," I ground out.

Joe grinned. "Ah, but you learned something, did you not? So maybe being a, ah, 'prick' was worth it, ne?"

"English, dammit, Joe!" I yelled, exasperated by his annoyingly happy-go-lucky attitude and my own ignorance.

"If you don't want me to speak in Japanese, then you can't speak in Japanese either."

"I can't help it!" I snapped. "It just..." I shut up.

Joe looked at me curiously. "Na-" He saw my look and quickly amended, "What?"

"Doesn't matter." He looked about to interrupt me again for clarification, but I suddenly remembered what word I was looking for. "Nalcist! That's what I meant to say."

Finally Joe understood me. He looked mildly insulted. "I am not obsessed with my appearance!"

"You are obsessed, Joe," I laughed. "And--" I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from saying something stupid.

Joe looked at me again, laughter dancing in his emerald eyes. "'And' what?"

I shook my head furiously, my ponytail slapping my cheeks. "Nothing. No. I'm not saying it."

"Why not?"

"It'll start a fight."

"That never stopped you before," he pointed out, and he laughed again. I watched him as he laughed. I'd never seen him smile so much before—he seemed lighter when he did, younger, somehow. Less intimidating.

"Tell me?" he asked, trying to make puppy-dog eyes at me and just managing to look stupid.

"Stop it!" I chuckled. I pushed on his arm jokingly, and I realized that I hadn't taken my hand off of his arm since the corner. His skin was smooth and very warm against my palm. I could feel my hand beginning to sweat—it was the humidity!—so I started to remove my hand so that I wouldn't make him uncomfortable. Joe felt that and moved his free hand to cover my hand, trapping my hand to his forearm. His palm was lined and rough, no where near as smooth as his arm. It was nice…

Too nice! What was I doing?! I wrenched my hand away and clutched my bag over my opposite shoulder. That had been too close! Thank God I'd come to my senses before someone had come along and seen us. With the sunset and the pretty trees planted in the sidewalk, someone might've thought we were a couple or something stupid like that. Nothing could be further than the truth!

Joe took my reaction in stride. He merely smiled and bumped my shoulder with his, friendly-like. "Come on, Val-san, tell me!"

I mock-scowled at him. "Fine, you asked for it! I was going to say 'And you're arrogant, too'." I thought about what I said for a moment. "Which would mean goumen might still apply to you. In a very small way."

Joe didn't seem to have heard my justification for goumen. "Me? Arrogant?" He was surprised, to say the least.

"Yes, you! When someone says something that you don't like or when they're not doing what you want them to do, you get all high and mighty!"

"Oh." Joe didn't get angry at my assessment. Rather, he was thoughtful when he commented, "No one else has said anything."

I laughed. I think his mood was infectious. "That's 'cause they're all too terrified of you to say so!"

"Or maybe I'm only that way around you," Joe countered.

I flushed and quickly looked at the trees in the sidewalk. "I doubt that, Nushi."

"Hey!" Joe protested. He strode forward and stopped in front of me.

I scowled. "If you're going to walk in front, fine, but keep going so you don't block traffic!"

He ignored me and put his hands on my shoulders. He stared down at me, and I saw that he wasn't joking around anymore. "Don't call me Nushi anymore."

I laughed a little, trying to lighten the suddenly dark mood. He growled and shook me so hard my teeth rattled. "I'm serious, Val-san! I don't want you calling me that!"

I grew serious as well. "But why not, Joe? Nushi's your name, too."

He made a face and said something too softly for me to hear. Before I could ask for him to speak up, he added in a louder voice, "…and I'd just prefer you to call me by my name, that's all."

"J-o-e." I smiled. "Better?"

He smiled, too. "Better," he allowed. "But not the best."

We started walking again. "But what could be better than your first name, though?" I wondered out loud. "Joseph?" I scrunched up my nose in distaste. "That's not better, I don't care what you think."

Joe chuckled. "I'll tell you sometime."

"Promise?" I sounded like a whiney kid, but it was out before I could stop it.

"I promise, Val-san."

We walked a little farther. We were getting closer to the residential side of the city, so traffic wasn't so bad and we could just run across the crosswalks without waiting for the light to say we could go. The streetlamps flickered on while we walked on, and I admired the effect of the soft yellow light on the light green spring leaves of the ornamental trees.

"So what were we talking about at the beginning, anyway?" Joe asked eventually.

"Um…" I wracked my brain. "Oh! You were wondering what was wrong with your hair."

Nushi frowned, remembering. "Yes."

"And I was going to say," I continued, "that I liked your highlights."

"Highlights?" Joe stopped walking. I'd taken a few steps on before I realized he wasn't beside me. I turned and looked at him.

It was difficult to see his eyes clearly; perhaps that was what gave me the courage to look at him like I did. In this darkest part of twilight—it was too light out to really call it night, but it certainly wasn't day anymore—he looked like he was entirely black and white. Simple at first, like I'd sketched him with a pencil on a piece of computer paper; but then I saw so many shades of grey dancing on his skin from the leaves and his hair moving in the slight wind that it made him so much more complicated than the best painting in the world could ever reproduce. Even a photograph wouldn't be able to capture the moment, and I'm not sure that I even wanted to try.

I smelt rain on the wind.

I moved towards him and gently picked up a strand of his hair. I heard him breathe deeply, his chest expanding almost far enough to touch me. I rolled the strands between my fingers, peering closely at them in the dim light from the nearest lamp, both looking for the color that I'd been sure had been there and avoiding the polite endurance of my close presence that I was sure was painted all over his face.

I broke the silence. "I thought you'd put green streaks into your hair." I forced a laugh, and it sounded flat even to my ears. "Guess I was wrong."

I moved away, but for the second time that evening Joe grabbed me. His hand closed on my wrist, effectively keeping me by his side. I could feel his pulse in his fingers, and I focused on feeling the increasing tempo through my skin instead of thinking about how close we were and how we were in the shade of a tree in the dark where no one could see us and…and…!

Joe interrupted my thoughts by touching the back of my neck with his left hand. His right hand tightened slightly around my wrist, and I couldn't tell the difference between his pulse and mine anymore.

"Your neck," he murmured softly, flicking my hair away from it. I felt the strands catch the wind and fan out behind my head. "How is it feeling?"

Feeling... Vaguely, I wondered why he should care. Had I been rubbing it or something?

But suddenly my memory was swamped with vivid images from my dream the night before. My neck, snapped with bone splinters poking through the skin. Frog's tongue strangling me. Haku…!

I jumped away from him like a startled rabbit. I felt dirty all of a sudden, like I'd been doing something I shouldn't have. And I should've felt like that! I had no business carrying on like that with someone who was barely a friend, let alone a boyfriend…!

AH! Bad thought! Bad Val! Bad! What was happening to me?! I screamed in my head.

My sudden anxiety was not unnoticed. Joe looked at me worriedly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

My voice was too shrill. Joe narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Tell me, Val-san!" he demanded.

I forced myself to calm down. "There you go again, Joe!" I said more normally, if a little too high still. "You're being arrogant again."

The worried crease between his eyes faded a little, and Joe chuckled. He relaxed into a more normal pose, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I suppose I am. I am sorry, Val-san. I did not mean to pry."

I was nearly completely better as he bowed in apology. I'd been effective in restoring the distance between us. When we were apart, things were normal. I wasn't confused or anything when I remembered to keep the line. But my reasons for keeping the line became so distant whenever he was close to me…

I laughed to cover my recurring confusion. I hoped Joe didn't notice the slight edge of hysteria. "Of course you meant to pry! But I forgive you." I saw the glowing subway entrance just a little farther down the block and hurried forward. "I've gotta get the train, Joe, I'm already late."

Joe opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't give him a chance. "I guess I'll see you in school tomorrow," I babbled as I retreated to the safety of underground. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Remember, we've got a test tomorrow! Or, you wouldn't remember, I guess, you weren't there this morning. Well, we do, chapter eight, so you better study and I'd better get home!"

Joe smiled a crooked smile and shook his head. "Good night, Val-san."

I paused in my frantic rush and turned to wave. "G'night, Joe."

"Val!" My mother rushed to greet me as soon as I walked in the door. She hugged me tightly, bag and all. I put up with it for a few seconds before gently pushing Mom away.

"I'm fine, Mom, chill. Just a little hungry." I moved to the fridge and started rummaging around for some leftovers.

Now that Mom had determined that I was all in one piece, she let loose with her irritation. "Call next time you're going to be late!"

I rolled my eyes. "Cells don't work in the tunnels, Mom."

"You shouldn't be taking the subways!" she snapped. "Not at this time of night!"

I closed the door to the fridge with my hip, my arms loaded down with items wrapped in foil and shrink wrap and plastic containers. "Don't start."

"I have every right to start!" Mom retorted. "Those places are dangerous!"

"And I can defend myself!" I said, my temper finally flaring. "I'm helping David with his karate lessons!"

"Taught by a child!"

"Joe is not a child!" I yelled. "He knows a hell of a lot more than anyone else I know, and anyway, if you think that it's not worth anything, why do you let us do it?"

"Maybe I shouldn't!"

"Don't even think about it, Mom," I warned. I grabbed a plate from the cupboard.

"And why shouldn't I?"

Because then I wouldn't have an excuse to go over to Joe's house, my treacherous mind whispered. I squashed that whisper firmly and said instead: "Because the lessons are free. And they get David out of the house. And they get me to actually exercise."

"And you want to see Joe," David added from the doorway.

I chucked a roll at him. He ducked and grinned. "It's true!"

"Is not!" I whirled around and faced my shell-shocked mother. "It isn't true!"

She was quickly recovering from her shock. "You like this Joe?" she asked skeptically.

"No!" I caught my brother's glare and quickly amended, "Not like that, Mom. You know me."

She sighed and went over to pick up the roll I'd thrown. "No, I suppose not. Still…" Mom looked at me with a strange light in her eyes. "Be careful. I remember what it was like, all those hormones and boys, and not everyone was nice."

I rolled my eyes and huffed, trying not to think about the blush I could feel on my cheeks. "Joe doesn't like me like that."

"You think," David murmured as he walked by me to go to the pantry.

I elbowed him in the ribs and ignored his yelp. David was wrong, I knew it—but at the same time, my mind was frantically pushing images of Joe's hauntingly beautiful face at me from just an hour before.

Mom sighed and nodded her head. "You can continue your lessons with Joe. At least until we find a real place for David to take classes. But I'm not having much luck…" She trailed off and stared at the wall, lost in thought.

"G'night, Mom," I said quickly, trying to hurry her away before she rescinded her 'yes'.

"G'night, dear." She waved vaguely and David and I listened to her walk up the stairs.

I turned to David, ready to rip him a new one, when he quickly asked, "So did you see Joe tonight?"

"Why do you ask?" I replied testily. I quickly scooped out rice and chili onto my plate and popped it in the microwave, watching it intently so it wouldn't overcook and explode all over the inside of the microwave.

David hopped onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar. "He stopped by here earlier."

I looked at my brother skeptically. "No, really, he did! He wanted to talk to you, and when I said you were gone, I told him you were at your psychiatrist's appointment. Actually," he added, frowning a little, "I guess you didn't see him, because he said he'd give you a ride when he found you."

So that's what Joe'd been trying to say before! I flushed when I remembered my idiotic prattling. "How'd he know where I was?" I asked David hurriedly so he wouldn't see my guilty look. "Did you give him directions?"

David looked at me strangely. "Why would I give him directions?"

"So he could find the office!"

"But he already knew where it was."

"Really?" I drawled skeptically. "And how did he know that?"

"He was there the first time we went to that office." I choked—when had Joe been there?! David ignored me and went on. "He saw me looking through the magazines on the table and asked what I was doing. I told him what you were doing, and he told me that he was visiting his foreign exchange student service on the third floor and had seen me in the waiting room and he was curious about me so he came in. I asked him a whole bunch of questions about where he lived, and we talked for a really long time but he left before you came out."

"David!" Mom called down the stairs. "Bedtime!"

David grinned and jumped up to hug me. "Goodnight, big sis."

"G'night, lil bro," I said automatically, my mind in a daze. He sprinted away. I slumped against the counter, ignoring the peep that announced my dinner was done. I could only focus on a single thought that was sprinting around and around my head at top speed: What was I gonna do?

Joe—he knew. He knew about my dreams, my innocent naïve little brother having just told him everything. He knew I was a freak.

If David had really told him then, he'd known from the very beginning. As soon as he found out who I was, he would've known I was David's older sister and just like that, he'd know my darkest secret.

But.

Joe still talked to me like a normal person. He joked with me, argued with me, just as if I was a normal teenage girl. He'd even—but I pushed that thought away before I could finish it. I did not need to add that thought to my plate right then.

In any case, he had acted like nothing was wrong. So, I thought with a deep breath, that's exactly what I'll do. Act like nothing's wrong at all. If he hasn't asked any weird questions yet, he won't in the future, and there's no reason to bring up a subject that I don't want to talk about. I'll just let things go the way they've been going, and everything will be fine.

That decided, I plucked out my dinner and set it on the table. A corner of my journal poked out of my bag and caught the corner of my eye as I sat down to eat, but I resolutely ignored it and the brief pinch of panic at the reminder. Everything will be fine, I thought again.

It will be. I'm sure of it.