So, who wants to know why this was so late? The long and short of it is: I got a job. I got a job working at a psychiatric hospital, actually, and after spending eight hours a day working with patients I found myself less than eager to write about them. Or write in general. A lot of the delay came out of laziness, though, and for that I apologize.

The bag thumping down on the table startled Rebecca and she blinked before looking up. A rather cheery-looking red head was there and she was smiling, though the expression faded when she saw just how confused and lost the brunette looked. "Shit Bec, who died?" she cracked as she sat down, and almost immediately grimaced. "Sorry, bad word choice. What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Rebecca repeated the word and sighed as she leaned back in her chair. The sun was beating down on the outdoor café table and she could feel her skin starting to turn pink. The shadow from the umbrella will make the tan lines unsymmetrical, she thought, and rolled her eyes at that. "Nothing really. I've just been… thinking."

She had just been doing too much thinking.

"Hmm?" The red head looked at her expectantly and all Rebecca could do was shrug her shoulders a bit helplessly.

"I'm just – thinking." Which was true. More than true, really; the therapist felt like her head hadn't stopped pouring in the thoughts since the incident and they were just going in haphazard circles now, the beginning of each one tripping over the end of the last. The problem – the real problem – was-

"About what?"

And ding ding ding? There's our eighty-thousand dollar question! Come on down Becky and see if you can answer it for the win! The tone of the thought distressed her more than the thought itself. The voice was one she had heard a long time ago and had struggled to forget. Had forgotten up until now and here in was, laughing right in her face. Why? Who? Why are you in my head…?

Rebecca looked down, cold-pale hands clutching her coffee cup tightly, and shook her head. "I didn't…" Her voice trailed off for just a moment and then she looked back at her friend. "Have you ever done something? Something so… so bad, something to someone else and…" The brunette's voice trailed off again and it looked like she was floundering. "… What do you do?"

If the red head noticed the confusion and self-doubt that was filtering through Rebecca's naked expression and tone she did a damn fine job of hiding it. All she did was smile – too bright and too wide but still a smile – and nod. "All you can try to do is make up for it and move forward. Past is past, after all."

He came back, even though they had no set appointment, and in one week, not two. It was just barely four and Rebecca guessed that he had cut over immediately after the end of the school day or maybe he hadn't even gone at all. Both seemed equally likely but the therapist never found out which one it was; she had never bothered to ask.

She didn't deserve to ask.

All Rebecca knew – and all she could marvel at – was that he had come back. And at now, at three fifty seven in the afternoon, and seven was hideous and so was three (it wasn't as bad though and five, at least, five was half of ten so it was almost bearable) and added together they were fifteen and there was nothing pretty or symmetrical about the number or about the time. It was just ugly and the reaper was acting like he didn't notice.

The brunette had a four fifteen appointment but that could be cancelled. Easily. What wasn't so easy to do was stepping out of the safe zone in her office to face Kid. All it would take was the truth and he would be gone and most likely this time it would be for good. And honestly, wasn't that the best for all involved? He needed help, serious help, and she just wasn't going to be able to provide it for him.

Rebecca reached out and pressed the button down on her desk. "… Cancel my next appointment." She cut the intercom off, flipping the small switch, to avoid the inevitable question of 'why' that her secretary would ask after that. The therapist would have felt the urge to answer it but there was no answer. There was no why.

Kid's file had been stashed away in her desk and a few of the pages were stained from a night that Rebecca would rather not remember. It had just been her and a man named Jack – Daniels was his last name – and she had torn herself apart looking through his files. There must have been something she had missed, some glaringly obvious key point to make her go 'eureka' and solve the mystery that was Death the Kid. The brunette had monumentally fucked up and there had to be a reason why. Ineptitude and poor judgment, that couldn't possibly have been the answer.

Except there was nothing.

File, clipboard, and pen were in hand. Rebecca took a deep breath before stepping out of the safety of her office and stood face to face with the patient she had slapped. Or something close to face to face; Kid was sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs and his hand was on the armrest, fingers tapping along the worn surface. His eyes were scanning along the covers of the magazines she kept on the side table and periodically he would scowl, eyes narrowing and head shaking before starting to tap his fingers again.

What…? She would have questioned it but as long as he wasn't focused on her she felt safe.

"It's the words." Rebecca blinked and dragged her gaze away from the magazines to meet the reaper's gaze. "The sentences. I just like them to be even. The words have to be even or else I have to rework them."

And even though this made absolutely no sense to her – just how could a sentence possibly be even? – the brunette just nodded. Her fingers twitched and she glanced down at the file in her hand. This was important and she knew she needed to document it, probably with some vague and cute quip like 'surrounding restructuring to suit own needs', but that really would mean nothing in the long run. And after what she had done Rebecca barely felt she was even allowed in the same room as Kid, let alone writing down comments about his various eccentricities.

She took a seat and nodded a second time. The pen still laid flat against her paper as she waited for him to talk again – she had no right and that was going to make this difficult. She also had no right to deny him or turn him away and so there she sat, ready, willing… and waiting.

Kid stared back, fingers still tapping out their incomprehensible rhythm. For one tense moment it seemed like nothing would happen and they would just spend one uncomfortable hour looking at each other. He sighed, though, and pulled his hand back into his lap. "I tried doing what you suggested."

"What I…?" Rebecca frowned as she tried to remember what it had been that she had told him. What advice she could have possibly given that would have been useful and not just horribly. Kid smiled at her confusion.

"To try to look at things differently. To let myself see things in a differently light or from different ways instead of obsessing over that way I want them." The small smile that was stretched across his lips faded a bit, not entirely gone but not as wide as it had been before. "It hasn't worked out completely and it's… really failed more times than it's worked but sometimes it does. And I think it might work more often in the future if I continue to practice it."

She laughed and covered it up as a cough, hand pressed against her mouth as Rebecca looked down at the blank paper in her lap. A piece of worthless advice I spout off because I have nothing better to say and he starts obsessing over it and it actually helps? It upset her for reasons she couldn't quite put a finger on, though it probably had to do with the fact that when she had really tried to help she had just wound up hurting him.

"I'm glad that's working for you." Rebecca said the words softly as she nodded and looked back up at him. "If you do continue to work at it I'm sure it'll help you control your compulsive urges. You've been working hard to help improve yourself." And it seemed like everything he had done could have easily been done with her help.

Self-doubt was a horrible thing and it easily clawed away at the small about of confidence and faith she had built up in herself during her short time practicing. Every success was overshadowed by her one glaring failure and this is such a bad idea I shouldn't even be here. Rebecca's own thoughts were so loud and so confusing that, for one moment, she missed completely that Kid was still talking and found herself just staring blankly as he looked back at her, obviously waiting expectantly for her response.

"I… I'm sorry," the brunette mumbled, and she picked up the pen in a vain attempt to look like she was paying attention. "What were you saying?"

"I was looking into something at the library a few days ago and the librarian said something to me." The reaper's tone turned thoughtful. "He mentioned something about being able to do anything for someone in Lord Death's family."

And she stared back again, feeling completely at a loss at to the significance of that. So what? He mentioned your father's family. So. What?

"I don't-"

"Death Scythe is Maka's father." And now Rebecca was officially Lost and she put the pen back down. It seemed like Kid was working out his thoughts out loud and the best – and really only – thing she could do for him would be to just listen.

"Death Scythe – or, really, I guess I should call him Spirit – is her father and her mother is a woman named Kami and her mother is gone and yet Maka loves her mother more than her father." His eyes narrowed a bit, more out of confusion than anything else, and he frowned. "She has a father who loves her completely and has shown time and again that he would be willing to do absolutely anything for her and yet she continues to put her all her face in the parent figure who can't even bother to stay around to raise her."

"If all human behavior made sense then I wouldn't have a job," Rebecca remarked softly. "There are multiple reasons why your friend Maka could act that way, most likely simply because she's too-" Immature, unaware, childish. "- young to realized just what her father is giving up for her."

She was expecting for Kid to argue but instead the reaper just nodded, eyes lighting up like she had just given him the Holy Grail. "Yes, yes, exactly," he said quickly, nodding rapidly in agreement. "She just- she just can't see. They're her parents so she can't see."

And Rebecca stared back in confusion, not quite grasping just what he was getting at.

"I think that's what caused Soul to come out here too. I think that one day he'll go back to New York to where his parents are and he'll be able to see that they weren't trying to hurt him, that his brother wasn't really overshadowing him." His voice had dropped off into a mumble and Kid looked to the side, staring at the stack of magazines again. The reaper's fingers started to tap against the arm of the sofa again, just for a moment, and then he sighed. "That's what happens. Children just can't see, just can't understand what their parents do for them, right? It takes time and perspective to understand it."

"I… suppose that's probably true in most cases…" The fear and almost paralyzing doubt had eased off a bit as Rebecca just looked at him in confusion. Out of everything she had prepared herself (which was a complete lie, she hadn't prepared herself at all for even seeing Kid again) for this just… wasn't one of them. To go from ranting and raving about symmetry and perfection and the irritating habits of his friends to the lack of understanding they had about the actions of their parents…? "But… Kid, why are you even talking about that? Did… something happen?"

There was a second moment of silence and he continued to look at the side before nodding. "I went to the library and the librarian mentioned my father's family."

"… I don't under-"

"His family." And Kid looked up at her, gold eyes burning angrily now. "Family! I'm his son, his only son, or at least that's what he's let me believe and that's all he told me. But he said family, family, he acted like I wasn't the first child or relative he had seen, he said family!"

Rebecca's mouth hung open slightly as she looked at him speechlessly. What could you even say to something like that? What was he even talking about? The therapist felt she had a small idea about it but- but it didn't make sense. He was right; Lord Death only had one son and everyone knew that.

Right?

She swallowed hard and forced a small smile. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding," she said softly. "And if you ask your father about it he'll be able to explain everything to you."

"Are you sure?" Kid bit his lower lip for the smallest of moments and Rebecca's stomach turned at the action. It was so unlike him, so unrefined, and it made him look so young and weak. "If I go and talk to him, are you sure…?"

"He's your father Kid," Rebecca said, her voice becoming firmer. "And we just talked about that. Sometimes children just don't understand what their parents are doing, not at first, but in the end whatever the parents are doing is just for the benefit of their child. That's… that's all you really have to know."

Really? That might have been some of the worst logic she had ever given but Kid looked somewhat relieved as he nodded. "You're right. I'll talk to him and… I just probably don't understand. Thank you Miss Bras-… Thank you Rebecca."