Oh... my god. Seriously guys, thank you all for the reviews. I don't think I've ever had such a positive response to an idea and it definitely encouraged me to get this out as quickly as I did. I really hope this lives up to your expectations!

"Your 8 A.M. is here."

Rebecca nodded, ignoring the fact that the voice had come from the small grilled speaker on her desk. After a moment she reached out to click down on the red button on the base of the speaker, murmuring a low "Send him in" when she did. Her focus was on the computer monitor in front of her and she continued to type rapidly, hurrying to finish up a reporting she had started. It wasn't clicking with her yet just who exactly had arrived and she hated leaving things only half finished; no matter how hard she tried she was never in quite the same frame of mind when she went back and whatever point she had been working toward was lost.

"And done." She clicked the save button and smiled before realizing just what her secretary had said to her not even five minutes prior and what her response had been. Today's the first day with Lord Death's son and I left him waiting. She stood quickly and looked around for her clipboard and pen, grabbing both before hurrying out of her office into the meeting room. "I'm so sorry about the delay," she started to say, but stopped and blinked when she saw no one in the room.

That's… odd. Lori wouldn't have told me anything if he wasn't here… Rebecca walked forward into the room, more than a bit perplexed. She let the door to her office close as she walked over to an overstuffed armchair and placed the clipboard onto the seat. Of course there had been a delay in her coming out to see him, but it hadn't been that long… Maybe he just…

She didn't have to finish her thought. Rebecca became aware of a soft rustling sound from the side of the room and she glanced over to see a young teen sitting on the floor before her bookcase. The only way she could think to describe his position was 'cross-legged' except his legs weren't actually crossing. Instead he sat with his knees bent out so that his feet were touching together in the middle. That's peculiar. He made no sign of having noticed her and just continued to work as she slowly walked over to him.

"Yes?" The voice surprised her. Rebecca had been certain the teen hadn't noticed her – despite her announcing that she was in the room – and had slowly walked up behind him before he spoke. He still didn't bother to look behind to see her and instead appeared completely engrossed in his task. With much deliberation he pulled each book out and carefully examined it, running his fingers along the cover and the spine before placing it down on one of many piles that were forming around him. There seemed to be no order to how they were being grouped together but he acted as if each pile was a carefully selected category. "Can I help you?"

"Well, you could tell me your name." As she spoke Rebecca crouched down by the teen. From the side she could see several white stripes that cut oddly across his hair, and when he finally glanced over at her she could see the gold in his eyes. What an odd color. "My name is Rebecca Braswell, but you can call me Rebecca."

"… My name is Death the Kid." There was a small pause before he added: "You can call me Kid."

"Well then Kid, why don't you come over and take a seat so we can talk?" She gestured to one of the several chairs that had been set up around the room. He didn't even bother looking away from the books as he shook his head.

"I need to finish this. They weren't…" The corner of Kid's lip curled into a slight sneer. "Symmetrical."

"Symmetrical?" Rebecca repeated slowly. She looked at the books remaining on the self and raised one brow; they all still appeared to be in perfect order to her, organized by author's last name. "Books generally aren't arranged for symmetry. How would you ever find what book you're looking for? They're listed by subject or author and the size changes based on when it was printed."

His hands stutter-stopped for a moment in mid-reach as the teen appeared to mull over that thought. After the briefest pause he just shook his head and continued to pull the books out. "Symmetry is key," Kid muttered, his focus fully on the task at hand.

It was starting to become clear to Rebecca that Kid wasn't going to necessarily cooperate with the process. Well that's just fine, she thought as she straightened and stepped back to her chair. She retrieved the clipboard and pen before returning to her position beside the teen and the therapist sank down to the ground beside him. "Why symmetry? Shouldn't function matter over form? The arrangement of the books becomes useless if you ignore their logical order." As she spoke she tapped the end of the pen against the unmarked paper.

It was the noise that finally attracted his attention and Kid turned his head to fully look at the woman. "Are you going to write down everything I say?" he asked in a rather flat tone. She smiled in response and lifted the pen from the paper, tapping it against her chin instead.

"Not everything, no, but it's hard for me to keep track of what we've talked about if I don't take some notes. If it bothers you I don't have to though. I just might need some reminding on what we've talked about."

Again he hesitated, but Kid finally nodded shortly before looking down at the piles of books surrounding him. "Do what you need to do," he said softly, looking a bit lost. Rebecca nodded and lowered the pen to jot down a few words. Symmetry = defense mechanism?

"So let me guess. It was your father's idea for you to go here, not yours," she said slowly. No child of fourteen was going to suggest they go to any sort of counseling, making the statement a bit moot, but Rebecca had learned that it was a good way to get the client on her side. Trust me, I understand. It's always unpleasant when you're forced to be somewhere you wished you weren't.

"No," he said again, voice still just as soft, but Kid started to turn so that he was facing her. "I thought of it myself. I can't attend school like this and the interaction with the students is a necessary part of understand my duties as a grim reaper. If I am to take over my father's position one day then I will need to be able to work with them."

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise and Rebecca wrote down a few more words. Self reliant, initiative, situational control? "That's very mature for someone your age."

"I am a reaper."

"And you're still just fourteen."

Kid didn't seem pleased with her argument; his eyes slid shut some, the look he gave her a mixture of boredom, irritation and ire. "I did research into you before deciding you would be the best," he continued on, acting as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "You specialize in… young adults and your practice is still new, lowering the likely hood of my appointments here being discovered. You also graduated at the top of your class in both graduate and post graduate studies."

"I also didn't attend very prestigious schools either," Rebecca pointed out. Privately she was impressed with the amount of effort he had put into locating a good therapist; most people seemed to do nothing more than open the back of a phonebook and throw a dart at the page to see who they would call first. "It's not hard to reach the top when you're facing less competition."

"The schools you attended only accept forty-percent of their applicants," he said in a rather matter-of-fact tone. "Getting in and being in the top five percent is better than attending a higher quality school and being lower in the bracket. You were able to pick an environment that suited your needs perfectly instead of striving for something that was beyond your ability."

"So is that the way you look at things?"

Kid paused a moment to think about that question, his eyes tracking the movement of the pen as Rebecca started to tap it again against the surface of the paper. "I believe that not everyone is capable of doing everything equally, yes, and that pushing yourself beyond your limits is just as foolish as not rising up to them. Perfection cannot be reached without first understanding your own self."

Perfection. She jotted the word down before drawing an arrow from it to the word symmetry. "So is there a standard definition to the idea of perfection or can it vary from person to person? "

The pause was longer here as the teen seemed to visible struggle with answering the question. Ah. Good. Obviously this was a key point to touch on and she added the word definition to the page. "It… can… vary," he finally forced out after a moment. "Obviously one can't… reach perfection if they are forcing themselves to fit another person's idea…" There was an obvious 'but' hanging off the end of his statement but Kid seemed fine with allowing it to just trail off as he looked discontented.

Definition – what standard?

"What are you expecting to be able to get from this?"

He had a prepared response for that. "I already told you. My ability to interact with my classmates is… impaired, currently. If I want to-"

"Yes, yes, I heard that before," Rebecca said, interrupting him. "And that's a nice sentiment but it really doesn't tell me anything. Is your goal to be more relaxed? To communicate better? Or is it to control your own temper?" She smiled before pointing the tip of the pen toward him. "It's a nice thought to simply be able to 'interact' better but if I don't know what part of your interaction is hampered then I don't know what to focus on."

"I… don't… know." Saying the words seemed to pain Kid and he looked down as he spoke. "I suppose… I need to let… things go. Things that don't truly matter."

And again she was impressed. Reaching that level of self-awareness was hard for adults and even rarer in a teen, even more so during a first session. It shouldn't be surprising considering who he is, Rebecca thought, and immediately caught herself. Reaper status or not he was still just a child and thinking that way… Imposed believes and expectations. She circled that as she smiled at him. Is that really what's wrong, or is it just what you believe should be wrong?

"Well. You should know that simply reaching out to contact me and showing up shows quite the commitment to the process, so I believe you're already well on your way to achieving your goals." Rebecca slipped the pen under the paper clasp and lowered the clipboard to her lap. "How often would you like to meet? Weekly, bi-weekly, monthly-"

"I thought that we had to meet weekly," Kid said, interrupting her. She just shook her head.

"This process is entirely up to you. You could decide to never come back or you could decide that you want to see me every day. Of course," Rebecca said with a small smile, "both of those options are the extremes and most pick something in the middle. Between a week and two weeks is the standard time but we can do whatever you want. You're entirely in control here."

The idea almost seemed too much for him and for a moment Rebecca worried that Kid wouldn't be able to come up with a response to that. "… I would like to meet with you again," he finally said. "I… think that next week would be fine."

"Same time, same day?"

"… yes."

She stood up and walked over to the small desk set up in the corner of the room. Rebecca placed the clipboard down as she picked up one of her business cards. On the back she scrawled out the date of their next appointment before turning back to hand it to Kid. He had stood as well and was waiting for her, hands held awkwardly in front of him. "Here," she said as she handed him the card. "And don't be afraid to call me if you need anything before then. I'm here for you whenever you need me."

He nodded thoughtfully at that as he slipped the card into his pocket. "Thank you Rebecca," Kid said rather stiffly. For a moment he stood there staring at her before finally turning and leaving.

As the door shut behind him the therapist let out a low sigh. "Interesting… and not at all what I expected," she murmured thoughtfully. Just what is going on in that head of yours Kid?