"It'll be all right, sweetie."

Cordelia looked up into her mother's face, the warm, dark, shining eyes and wide mouth, the cheekbones and jawline so much like her own yet slightly more angular. Her mother smiled and Cordelia's heart swelled; her mother smiled so seldom, but when she did, it was like the sun piercing the clouds on a spring day, bringing warmth and life.

"Mom, what happened?"

Her mother shook her head. "What happens to everyone. What will happen to you." The light in her mother's eye hardened into pinpricks as the iris dulled and grew filmy, her lips dried and began to split; the skin stretched tightly over the high cheekbones lost its sheen and fine cracks appeared. Her mother's teeth turned from radiant white to milky gray as they sharpened into jagged shards. "So, why fight it? Why struggle? It'll happen anyway." Cordelia tried to pull away, but she was pinned, unable to move back. Her mother was not restrained and leaned closer; Cordelia caught a whiff of something gross and rancid. "It will happen anyway, so why fight it? Why be unhappy?" Her mother's mouth opened, a gaping fang-lined maw opening onto a bottomless black void. The mouth opened wider-

Cordelia gasped and jerked awake. Her right arm was gone; she looked down in panic and realized that Tamarra had fallen asleep and leaned on her shoulder, causing the limb to go numb. Cordelia's sudden movement caused the other girl to mumble and stir; Cordelia could almost immediately feel needles and pins in her hand. The inside of the bus was a shifting kaleidoscope of amber, white, and blue lights from the highway traffic mingled with the muted security lights of the coach's interior. The primary sound was the rumble of tires and the muted hum of outside engines. A low, steady buzz of conversation battled with the exterior sounds. Cordelia leaned back against the headrest and looked out the window. They were probably twenty minutes from campus; the fringes of outer Los Angeles gleamed neon-white in the darkness.

"It was a dream," she muttered. "A dream." But the ice-water down her spine belied her little girl attempt to be brave. She stared out the window until the bus turned into the campus entrance. Tamarra shook herself awake as the vehicle came to a stop in front of Southard, then got up and grabbed her gym bag from the overhead bin. Cordelia waited until Tamarra cleared her seat, then stood and reached into the storage area. Her bag had shifted to the back; she had to feel around until her fingers clutched the handle. She pulled her gear out, turned toward the aisle, and came face-to-face with Allie. She smirked and Cordelia took an involuntary half-step back, bumping her head on the overhead compartment. Allie's smirk morphed into a nasty smile and Cordelia's anger spiked. She clenched her jaw, tightened her grip on her gym bag, and stepped forward, hard. Allie was taken aback; her eyes popped open as she instinctively backed away, bumping into the person behind her. Cordelia slipped into the breach and turned toward the front of the bus; her gym bag swung on its handle and thumped against Allie's leg. Cordelia didn't look back; she came off the bus and saw Kelli, Maria, and Tamarra standing a few feet away. As she went to join them, Coach Martin smacked the bus's fender for attention.

"Okay," she said as football players got off the bus and walked behind her, "since this was an away game, no film study tomorrow. Enjoy your Sunday afternoon, be ready to work on Monday."

"I'm happy about that," Kelli said. "I need to study for a Bio test." As the other girls nodded, Cordelia looked over Maria's head. Allie stared at her, and the captain's expression clearly indicated that she was not feeling any great love. Cordelia smiled and spread her palms; Allie scoffed and wheeled away.

"Man-" Maria had turned to follow Cordelia's gaze "-why you gotta poke the bear?"

Cordelia looked down at her teammate. "That was not poking. When I poke, you'll know."

"Well, Pokey Bear, let's get going before this turns into Biggie and Tupac 2: Electric Boogaloo." Kelli grabbed Cordelia's upper arm.

"Sure," Cordelia said as she watched Allie's departing figure. "Her evening's booked anyway. Those roots won't touch up themselves."

The cell phone on the desk buzzed. Cordelia closed her eyes and groaned, then flipped open the palm-sized device. "Hello?"

"You haven't called."

Cordelia shifted in her chair until she could look past her desk and out the window. "Was I supposed to? There were no clear instructions."

There was a long pause, then: "Cordelia, I… Child, are you just being stubborn?"

Her fingers rubbed at a spot on the desktop. "I've been busy. Yesterday was our first away game."

A sigh shushed in her ear. "Did you go to therapy?"

"Yes." The spot needed more attention.

"How did it go?"

"Doesn't that violate confidentiality?"

"Do not, do not even be cute with me."

Cordelia sighed and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. There was a cobweb in the corner. "The doctor has a major 'mom went back to school and got her degree' vibe."

"Is that good or bad?"

She shrugged, even though no one was there to see. "I don't know, but she makes Willow look like Tyler Durden."

"Cordelia, don't… you should take this seriously. This is an opportunity, if you use it right."

"Really?" She snapped up straight. "How is being treated as if I'm criminally insane an opportunity, unless I'm looking to sell the rights as a TV-movie?"

"Girl, you have been through some intense experiences in the past year without a chance to process them. Maybe this, maybe therapy can be an opportunity for you to do that."

Cordelia's face hardened. "So, I'm, what, supposed to just tell a stranger 'I was kidnapped by a crazy death cult that was going to sacrifice me to bring about some sort of apocalypse'? Maybe 'My break-up caused a supernatural downer all over town that pushed my mother over the edge so she killed my dad, then herself'?"

"Look, I know this is-"

"You know? You know?"

"Really?" Matti's voice was quiet and low. "Think about it for a minute."

Cordelia's eyes burned and she blinked back tears. "Okay, yeah, I was outta line."

"Girl, you've been through more in a year than most people go through in a lifetime. Yes, you should talk to your therapist. Do some editing, go easy on the supernatural details. The- The kidnapping doesn't even need that. Just say that the guys who did it were crazy. That's true enough." There was a long silence. "You need to do this, Cordelia. You need to make peace with what happened."

"I'm fine with what happened."

"No, you're not. If you put a bandaid over an infected cut, you can't see it, but it just gets worse. That's what you're doing."

Cordelia gritted her teeth. "Well, I don't see how that's going to happen, because I'm going to group therapy now, and even if I did want to share with Dr. Drewetta, I'm not doing it in front of a bunch of strangers."

"Then tell her you need another private session. Figure out a way to tell your story to the group. I… I can't tell you how to do it, but you really, really need to." Another pause. "You know you can call me, anytime."

"I know." Cordelia's fingers tightened around her phone.

"It doesn't have to be about this. Don't try to be the Lone Ranger." Matti's breathing was audible over the phone. "And talk to your doctor, really talk to her."

The girl grimaced in frustration. "Jeez, if I say yes will you turn down the melodrama?"

"I promise. Are classes okay?"

"Well, I have a World History assignment due tomorrow and I was going to study for a Math 134 test, but I got a phone call that sort of interrupted me."

"Okay, very subtle. When's your group session?"

"Tuesday."

"You'll be there, right?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Yes, I will be there."

"Good. Cordelia, I…"

"Yes?"

"I want you to get healthy, okay?"

"Okay." Cordelia punched the 'end' button and tossed the phone onto the desk. It clattered on the Formica as she pulled her math textbook toward her. She opened it for a few minutes, then closed it. Not enough concentration for studying. She reached for her history text instead. Maybe she would be able to robot her way through that assignment.

"Everybody, gather up." Dorian clapped his hands and the squad members drifted over, many of them still holding water cups. They clustered around Coach Martin's tower.

"I know, we have a home game this week, but homecoming is in three weeks," she said, "and we need to begin getting ready for it."

"Yeah." Allie's voice still had a slightly nasal quality to it. "Let's make sure that we eliminate all our little individual mistakes that make the whole squad look bad." She didn't hold a flashing neon arrow overhead and point it at Cordelia, but that was about all that was missing.

"So, let's work." Dorian clapped again and jumped toward his spot.

"What did I say," Maria whispered as she drifted behind Cordelia. "Poking the bear is a bad idea."

Cordelia slipped the Thunderbird's transmission into 'park' and craned her neck to look through the windshield. The setting was definitely different from her private session. Instead of Kaitlin's quaint shed-cum-office, Cordelia was looking at a two-story building of beige brick. She double-checked the address written on the business card; it was correct. She sighed as she got out of the car and locked it. The asphalt parking lot looked even darker against the light-colored brick; the building looked like it was rising out of a viscous black pool. The image did not comfort her. A plaque on the wall announced that this was a community center, but the half-tile/half-cinderblock walls, no-color paint, and fluorescent lighting that leached any remaining color from the surroundings rendered the sign unnecessary. Cordelia sighed as she scanned the building directory, looking for the room number on the card.

"Are you here for Dr. Desjardins?"

Cordelia turned. The speaker was a man of medium height, a little taller than her, with long, thick blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. He had a deep tan, bright blue eyes, and a strong chin which, combined with the multicolored Baja hoodie he wore, gave him the look of a surfer who had just leaned his board against the wall and come inside. On closer inspection, the network of lines at the corner of his eyes and the depth of the grooves around his mouth put him well out of 'college surf enthusiast' and into 'burgeoning surf bum' territory.

"Yes," Cordelia said. "I am."

"It's down this way." He head-pointed down the hall and followed his own directions. Cordelia hitched her purse strap on her shoulder and followed. He stopped at a door on the left at the end of the hall. "M'lady," he said and offered a half-bow.

Cordelia's spine stiffened. He held the pose; she finally half-stepped, half-slipped past him and immediately moved to her left, keeping the wall at her back. The room she had entered was a square roughly twenty feet on a side. Nine chairs sat around a large round table in the center of the floor space. A rectangular table was pressed against the wall and held an open case of bottled water, a coffee urn, and cups. The room had a fifteen-foot ceiling and the floor was covered by a beige patterned tile that screamed 'industrial flooring supply'. The windows were high up on the wall, the sort that only let in much light from about ten-thirty in the morning until two-fifteen in the afternoon. The lights were encased in wire cages, perhaps to protect them from an errant ball or maybe to prevent theft; it was hard to say. Five people milled around the coffee table and the far end of the room.

"Cordelia! Good to see you." Kaitlin approached, smiling and professionally warm and welcoming. She wore a cardigan over a satiny blouse with a bow neck and wide-leg black pants. "We're waiting for our last member, why don't you grab a coffee or water?"

"Sure." There was no way Cordelia was going to take a flyer on therapy coffee, so she took a water bottle, cracked the lid, and took a long drink. This allowed her to make a quick inventory of the other members of the group. No one obviously looked like they were making a cadaver creature or harboring a secret hunger for human flesh.

"Okay, everyone's here, so let's get started." Kaitlin pulled out a chair and stood behind it. "Everyone grab a seat." Each person went directly to a chair, no hesitation, no loitering. Apparently, everyone had 'their' seat. Cordelia went to the only open chair and pulled it out. She sat down, but did not scoot in close to the table. "All right, everyone, we have a new member tonight." Kaitlin extended a welcoming hand in the cheerleader's direction. "Let's go around the table and introduce ourselves." She turned to the person on her left, a woman in her mid-to-late twenties with pale skin and very dark hair.

"Yvonne." She looked down at the table after uttering her name.

"Randall. Good to see a new face." Thirties, brown hair brushed straight back, white linen shirt that Cordelia was pretty sure was Ralph Lauren Purple Label, and a TAG Heuer Carrera watch.

"Eileen." Old, at least fifties, maybe sixties, too long between hair appointments, expensive sweater worn crooked.

"Chet." Old surfer dude. It looked like he winked.

"Teri." Forties, mouth pulled in tight, hands clasped tightly on the table.

"Ted." Thirties, a little stocky, hair combed over tight, button-down oxford.

Kaitlin gestured to the last participant: a young woman just over five feet tall with olive skin, a mass of wild, dark hair, and a strong, angular face that would have been pretty if it wasn't on the edge of a scowl. She fixed Cordelia with a scornful look and sucked on a tooth, then spat out, "I'm Dani Ghazarian. Make a single crack about Shuvs and Zuuls roasting in the Slor and I will punch you in your fucking neck."

Cordelia stared at her for two heartbeats. "You're an angry little person."

"Dani." Kaitlin tapped a pen on her legal pad. "You know you don't have to give your last name, and if no one knows your last name, they can't make any Ghostbusters jokes." Kaitlin pursed her lips. "What have we talked about concerning self-sabotage?" The therapist offered a smile that looked like a scold, then tapped her notebook on the table. "We'll give Cordelia a little time to see how we work here, so, anyone have any positives this week?"

A short silence bloomed, then Teri said, "I talked to my sister this week. We had a conversation that did not end in a fight."

"That's good." Kaitlin nodded.

"I guess." Teri flushed a dark red. "I still wanted to scream at her."

"But you didn't, and that's important." Kaitlin looked around the table. "We can't always control what we feel, so we control our actions, right?"

"But the feelings cause the actions." The older woman, Eileen, had a soft, reticent voice.

Kaitlin nodded, then turned to the group. "Anyone have anything to share? Add?"

"Well, isn't it more accurate to say that our feelings are our reactions to other people's actions? I mean, our feelings don't just come out of nowhere. I don't just have bad feelings for Janice, what she does creates bad feelings." Randall talked with his hands, making his expensive watch look like a wrecking ball.

"Nah, my dude, check your underlying attitude. I mean, you don't like Janice anyway, so anything she does is gonna piss you off, right?" Chet leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"I had no particular attitude toward Janice until she tried to derail my career." Randall shook his head and waved a hand.

"It's such a common occurrence. Women-"

"Ted, I'm going to stop you right there." Kaitlin had a 'no nonsense mom' expression on her face. "We've said this before, your views on male-female relationships are not the subject here. You can believe anything you want, but you have to express yourself in a viable, non-threatening manner."

"Yeah, man, ladies'll like you better if you learn how to chill."

Kaitlin held up a warning finger. "Chet, that was unnecessary." He responded by holding up his hands and slouching down in his chair. "Eileen?"

The older woman plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. "Well, this week I had a- was having a bad day, and instead of sitting with the blinds closed or watching soap operas I went to a cat cafe."

"What's that?" Yvonne asked.

"It's, it's like a coffee shop where they serve drinks and pastries and they have cats that they're trying to find homes for."

"Cats just roaming around while you eat?" Randall seemed mildly disgusted by the concept.

"It's the feminization of public spaces-"

"Ted." Kaitlin's tone sharpened considerably. She stared at Ted until he folded his hands and looked down.

"That sounds cool," Yvonne said. "Did you take one home?"

"No," Eileen replied, her voice growing even softer, "but it was nice to see them and pet them."

"Did it help your mood?" Kaitlin asked.

"It did." Eileen smiled and her eyes were a touch less sad. "Just seeing the cats and realizing that they don't worry about their lives and seeing other people enjoying the day, it-" She sniffled; Kaitlin pushed a box of tissues in her direction and the older woman took one. "It was nice. It didn't make the pain go away, but it… I don't know how to say it, it narrowed it, instead of everything being sad, only one thing was."

"That's great, Eileen, that's really great." The therapist looked across the table. "Well, Cordelia, you've seen a little bit of how we operate. Why don't you tell us why you're here?"

Cordelia's face clenched. "I'm here because someone couldn't take a hint and pushed me too far."

"Reached the end of your rope, huh?" Chet nodded. "Been there. Some people just don't know when to let up."

"So, was it verbal harassment?" Randall seemed very concerned.

"No, she literally pushed me." Cordelia mimed the action.

"Nobody ever sees that." Yvonne shook her head sadly. "It's when you stand up for yourself that you get in trouble."

"Yvonne," Kaitlin said, "let's not use euphemisms."

"Yeah," Randall said. "Threatening to pin your manager to the bulletin board with a steak knife, whew, that's a little more than standing up for yourself."

"I wouldn't have done it, I couldn't have done it. Everyone at the restaurant knew that, he knew that." Yvonne motioned in Eileen's direction; the older woman slid the box of tissues across in front of Randall. Yvonne plucked out two and wiped her eyes. "He wouldn't stop saying things, all his disgusting suggestions…"

"So, you snapped." Chet took a sip of his coffee. Cordelia winced; that swill had to be stone-cold by now.

"So, it's okay for women to threaten violence against men, but-"

"Ted!" It was a group scold.

"See, there was your mistake," Dani said. "You threatened to fuck him up. If you'd really fucked him up, you'd probably be in the same place, and everybody'd know not to mess with you."

"Interesting take," Randall said. "So, we're supposed to be dealing with impulse control and your position is 'don't control them, act on them'. Is that right?"

"Randall." Kaitlin pointed a finger at him, then turned to Dani. "Creating chaos is not a strategy. Trying to upset your peers to justify your own behavior is not going to help." Dani scowled and hunched her shoulders. "Now," Kaitlin continued, let's get back to successes. Chet?"

"Okay, let's take a ten-minute break, then we'll finish up." Kaitlin tapped her pen on the table and pushed back her chair. The group members scattered. When most of them headed for the hall, Cordelia opted for an exit door at the far corner of the room. She pushed it open and stepped out onto a concrete porch about six feet square with three steps leading down to the parking lot. She started to lean on the railing, but changed her mind when she thought about how many unwashed hands had probably touched it. She was looking at the orange-white reflection of Los Angeles in the night sky when the door squeaked behind her. She wheeled, hand balling into a fist. Dani Ghozarian stopped halfway out the door, wavered as if to go back inside, then clenched her jaw and came outside. She wore jeans with too-long inseams so that the back hems were worn and frayed. She had on a military field jacket, also too big, and Birkenstock-style sandals with thick wool socks. She stepped to the rail; they stood silently for what seemed like hours. Dani wore jeans with too-long inseams so that the back hems were worn and frayed. She had on a military field jacket, also too big, and Birkenstock-style sandals with thick wool socks.

Cordelia finally turned to the shorter woman. "So, you forgot to check for the chock?"

Dani shrugged without meeting Cordelia's eyes. "Somebody always gets locked out. They'll open it when you pound on the door."

Cordelia shrugged, looking in the opposite direction. "So, go ahead and knock."

"You wanna go in, you knock." Dani's foot tapped on the concrete. "I'm not hanging around that bunch of weirdos."

"Yeah, speaking of, what's going on in there?" Cordelia asked. "What's with Chet and Randall always explaining what everyone just said?" She turned a little further to her right as though distancing herself from the question.

Dani shook her head. "Oh, that. They've both got a boner for Dr. Milf and think that if they can be therapy daddy she'll get all hot and drop her panties."

"Graphic and ew."

"Eh." Dani shrugged. "Group's not for pussies."

Cordelia shifted her weight back toward the other girl and made a circular motion with her hand, palm facing the ground. "Do you talk like this because you're sensitive about being so short?"

Dani nodded, finally turning her head to glare at the cheerleader. "Just wait, you and me… we're gonna tussle."

"Oh," Cordelia said, "let me make a note of that in my Daytimer." She leaned her hips against the railing, stickiness be damned, her arms still crossed. "So, what's with that Ted guy?"

"Hey." Dani pivoted, her head tipped back and her jaw thrust out. "Are you gonna oh-so-subtly ask me about everyone in there?"

"Yeah." Cordelia nodded. "Let's get to it."

"What makes you think I'll tell you?"

Cordelia shrugged and made 'who cares' face. "You think you're better than all of them and you're itching to tell someone, but no one around you cares, or you'd get in trouble if you break confidentiality, whatever, but telling the new girl what's what?" She took a deep breath and sighed. "That's just being helpful."

"Not enough." Dani leaned against the railing (it struck her in the middle of her back) and put her foot on the bottom rung. "I'll tell you, but you have to tell me how you ended up here… and no pysch speak, I want the real story. You cool?" She waited while Cordelia considered the offer. Finally, the cheerleader nodded.

"Deal."

"Okay, you noticed that Ted has a problem with the ladies, huh? Yeah, he's got some real… backward ideas about women, like 'Ward Cleaver called and told you to cool it' backward."

Cordelia's mouth went dry and she suppressed a shudder. "Uh-huh. What about Yvonne?"

"Yvonne's a server at Bennigan's or Hooligan's or TGI Friday's, one of those kind of places, you know, like Chotchkie's in that movie."

Cordelia tilted her head forward. "You mean Office Space?"

"Yeah, that one. 'If they take my stapler, then I'll set the building on fire'."

"I'm uber-sure that you identify with that line, but let's keep our forward momentum, okay?" Cordelia cocked an eyebrow.

Dani rolled her eyes. "Sure. Yvonne worked at one of those places. She says she had a manager who was always coming on to her, only it was a little more than that. You saw her, how she has that cute Goth girl thing happening? Apparently Douchebag McFucknuts took that to mean that she was down to hear his weirdo bondage fantasies." She clicked her tongue. "He was the top in said fantasies."

"She report him?"

"She did, and it turned out his uncle was the franchisee. Nothing got done, and Douchebag Mc-"

"You don't have to give the full name."

Dani shrugged. "Okay. Believe it or not, he was apparently being subtle before. Once he realized he was gold, it got worse, until Yvonne told him, at volume and in front of a packed house, that she was going to use a chef's knife to pin his fucking name tag to the fucking wall while he was still wearing it. Coulda been worse for her, but she got a decent PD who did some digging and found out Douchebag had been fired from three other jobs for being a dick and talking about his dick, including from a Spencer's Gifts. Do you know how big an asshole you have to be to get fired from Spencer's Gifts? Anyway, Yvonne agrees to go to group therapy, Douchebag gets to keep his job, I think there's a little money involved. So, there."

"Uh-huh. The old lady?"

"Eileen? Her husband died, they were married something like thirty years, she's trying to get a handle on that."

Cordelia nodded. Dani's face was in profile; a distant streetlamp outlined her strong features. "Teri?"

"Family shit. Dad died fifteen years ago, Teri took care of her mom, I guess, while her sister and brother got on with their lives, now mom's died and now there's family drama over the inheritance."

"Wow. I have to say, you're good at this."

Dani rubbed a hand over her mouth. "You go to group with people, they repeat the same sad shit week after week, after a while it boils down to the essentials."

"You said Randall and Chet are hot for Dr. Desjardins. Did they join the group to meet her?"

Dani laughed. "No, Randall's here because of sensitivity issues at work. Apparently, he hasn't figured out that his coworker doesn't regard Tits McGee as an endearing nickname. He's gotta get that under control or he could lose his job."

"Chet?"

"Ah, Chet." Dani shook her head. "Good ol' Chet." She looked at Cordelia. "You clocked his age, right?"

"Yeah."

"You get a vibe off him?"

Cordelia's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "Uh-huh."

"Chet works as a lifeguard at one of the beaches, at least that's his straight gig. I think he probably sells at least weed on the side, anyway, he has lady issues, too."

Cordelia grimaced. "So, all the guys are creeps?"

Dani smirked. "You know any who aren't? Chet's particular issue is that he tends to romance girls who are, shall we say, a little too young." She held up a hand when she saw Cordelia's expression. "Nothing too weird, it's not like he's hitting on eleven-year-olds. Keeps it more in the sixteen-seventeen age bracket."

"Ick." Cordelia shoulder-shivered.

"Yeah, he's got a bad case of Peter Pan Syndrome, at least that's how he self-diagnoses. So, that's why Jimmy Buffett's old roadie is here."

"So he can keep his job as a lifeguard?" Cordelia scrunched her nose.

"Well, if he gets fired, he has to sell weed out of his van in the parking lot of a Best Buy instead of the parking lot by the beach. Considerable step down in romance. Plus, dude really does like to surf. I think that's part of his kink for the doc. If he bags a woman more in his age bracket, some of the creep stink might wash off of him." Dani thrust her hands into the pockets of her field jacket and huddled inside it. "So, what did you really do to wind up on the island of misfit toys? Shoplift a candy bar? Didn't match your lip gloss to your nail polish?"

Cordelia dropped her hands to her sides and turned to stare up into the night sky. "I punched my captain."

"Your captain?"

"Of the cheerleading squad. At Wainwright."

"A cheerleader? Fuck me." Dani snorted. "You mean, like, got into a slap fight with her?"

"No. Like with a fist. I knocked her out." Cordelia took a certain pleasure in the reaction her icey tone produced in Dani.

"Whoa, the fuck you say. How'd it happen?" Dani turned fully toward her, giving Cordelia her complete attention.

"Like I said, she pushed me," Cordelia said. "I don't really remember hitting her." She crossed her arms as Dani gave her a long, appraising look.

"Well, ain't you hot shit. You don't seem like a badass."

"Really?" Cordelia's look at the other girl stopped just short of a glare. "What do I seem like?"

"Honestly, like someone who'd run tattle." Dani snapped her fingers. "Hey, are you a Charlie?"

"A what?"

"A Charlie. You know, like in that movie The Long Kiss Goodnight? This woman shows up in a town with no memory and becomes a teacher, then when she gets conked on the head and her memory returns, it turns out she's, like, an assassin or hitwoman or spy or some shit. Her name was Charlene, everybody called her Charlie."

Cordelia looked down at the shorter young woman. "Assassin and hitwoman are the same thing, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's a spy with amnesia." Her voice was dry as tinder. "I haven't forgotten anything." She gave a tiny shrug. "Except for about five minutes."

"Too bad. Samuel L. Jackson is fucking dope in that thing. So, that put you in group?"

"Therapy was one of the conditions to stay in school and on the squad." Cordelia sighed.

"Hmmph," Dani snorted. "Just a loser like us. Well, about time to go back and deface the music."

Cordelia stepped in front of the door. "Not yet. You've told me about everyone else in group. Why are you here?"

Dani pulled her fists out of her jacket pockets. "What if I decide to move you out of the way and go inside?"

"Go ahead." Cordelia smiled. "But remember, I'm not here because I took names. I'm here because I kicked ass."

Dani's eyes narrowed, and Cordelia thought a punch might be thrown, but the shorter girl sighed and shook her head. "It's a condition for me, too." She looked up at Cordelia, aiming for intimidating. "A condition of my fucking probation."

"What happened?" Cordelia said. "You couldn't pass the 'must be this tall to go to jail' test?"

Dani nodded. "Okay, I can appreciate that one. I'm gonna remember it when it comes time, but it was a good one. No, somebody got crosswise with me at work, words were exchanged, shit got broken, I ended up with a choice between probation with court-mandated therapy and a year in county."

Cordelia nodded. "So, therapy's supposed to make you all better?"

The light in Dani's face changed and suddenly whatever levity had existed evaporated, leaving only a dry tension. "Nothing can fix what's wrong with me." Cordelia looked into the other young woman's eyes for a beat, then lifted her hand and banged on the door.