"Hello, Nicholas," Dr. Mitchell says as soon as I come into the office.

In answer, I flop down on the large leather chair that is my usual seat. I give him a blank stare and a shrug.

I can see the frustration on his face. He does not know what to do with me. If this ebony skinned man had not been Thierry’s friend, he would have given up on me weeks ago.

"Come, Nicholas, won’t you say anything? One word is all I ask." If he were not such a powerful looking man, I would swear he has just pleaded with me.

My eyes are unwavering as I sit rigidly in my chair. No, I indicate with a shake of my head, I won’t say a word.

"Why?"

Because I don’t want to. Because I just want to be left alone. Because you can not DO anything for me! I want to scream at him, but he would not listen to my words. He would only gape at me, surprised that I possess the ability to really speak. Because, of course, he did not truly believe I could make a sound, despite what Thierry says. I have never given Dr. Mitchell any reason to think differently and I plan to keep it that way.

For the rest of the hour, we continue like this, him asking me questions while I occasionally indicate that I have heard him at all. I hate these sessions. I want to scream at him, tell him to shut up, but at the same time, I am indifferent to everything.

In the last 15 minutes, I tune him out. Instead, I focus my attention on the clock. 11:16...11:19...11:28, 11:29.....11:30! As soon as the second hand reaches the 12, I spring up from my seat in one graceful and fluid motion more worthy of a cat than a bird.

Dr. Mitchell looks slightly startled. His large doe brown eyes are wider than usual. It is at times like this that people remember I am not just another depressed Homo sapiens. I am a shapeshifter and a Dark Angel, one of the four teenagers with the ability to destroy the Wild Powers. It is at these moments that people look upon me with awe or fear.

For a moment, my eyes shed their trance-like sheen and really focus on something. That something is Dr. Mitchell and my concentrated gaze makes him visibly uncomfortable. "All right, Nicholas," he says a bit shakily. "You may leave."

I grace him with one of my most disturbing smiles before leaving the office. I do not like that man.

From back in the office comes the beeping sound of a phone being dialed.

"Thierry, I’m sorry," I hear Dr. Mitchell say when he thinks I am out of hearing range. "There’s nothing I can do for him."

A pause while Thierry answers on the other end.

"I’m flattered that you think I’m good enough to handle his case, but I’m not sure if even the best can handle him...

"Why? Quite frankly, I don’t think he wants to be helped. And I’ll admit, he’s a bit unsettling. Thierry, I hate to say it, but he might be too deep in his grief to be saved."

For once, this shrink is saying something useful. He might be more perceptive than I thought. And he is finally asking Thierry to take me away, permanently. I had started wondering how much longer I had to make his life miserable.

Dr. Mitchell is still talking, "Are you sure his mind was fine, Thierry? The blank stare in his eyes is so perfect, that it suggests that he might be mentally handicapped--"

CLICK.

It sounds like Dr. Mitchell has gone too far. I have never known Thierry to hang up on anyone until now.

Minutes pass while I silently sit in the empty waiting room. I am pretty sure Dr. Mitchell is contemplating just how big a mistake he has just made.

Everything is quiet, except for the music from some easy-listening radio station seeping through the room.

"And if you could see inside my heart,
You would see loneliness...
And if you could know what I’m afraid of,
You would be frightened.
And if you could feel the pain that I’m feeling,
Then you would know why I...

"I sit away lonely,
And I get away alone in my mind.
So I sit away lonely,
And I get away, sometimes.

"Why do I feel,
Like I will never feel love again...;"

"Master Nicholas."

I am relieved to look up and see Nilsson waiting in the doorway for me. Boyz II Men can be so depressing sometimes, especially when you understand exactly what they are singing about.

Hesitantly, Nilsson offers me a smile.

Quickly, I get out of the chair and breeze out the door. I do not smile back.

* * * * *
PART 2:

June 12, 1999: 11:21 PM

Something is going to happen tonight. I know it, but I can not guess what it is. It wants me to sleep though, I know that much. My eyelids are extremely heavy already and I usually do not fall asleep until 2 AM. Most nights I just can’t get past missing Leandra beside me and every night I am cold without her.

If I just lie down and close my eyes for a second… NO! I have to stay awake! I may not know what it wants, but I am afraid. Terribly afraid. Why do I need to sleep so badly? Does it want to catch me when I am unconscious and helpless? Why? Oh, I wish I knew the answers. I am sure I will be hurt somehow before dawn.

Maybe I am paranoid. It certainly has been suggested before. But I can not consider it now. I am tired, so tired. I just need to close my eyes for a little while…

"No," I murmur feebly the moment before I drift off into blackness.

It seems only an instant later that I wake up again, tangled in the sheets and screaming for Leandra. I had had a dream, one that was unlike the others. This had felt real, like it was really happening to me. And this time, Leandra had not died, she had walked away from me. Somehow, that almost feels worse. But she had said something to me. Something important and I have to remember it. What was it?!

"You have to get over me, love. Move on; talk and care about people again…I’m telling you this so you’ll be ready for your soulmate...Promise me you’ll do what I’ve asked."

Yes! That was it! But how am I supposed to keep my promise? Talk to people? They’ll ask me questions, questions about Leandra that I don’t want to answer. And how can I move on when her memory is so fresh in my mind?

*I love you.*

I think I hear those words, but fatigue makes me unsure. Am I starting to imagine things? Dr. Mitchell thinks I do it already.

I can taste the salt from the tears I have held in for 3 months, until now. Maybe this is symbolic, but of what, I can not begin to guess. Perhaps I will find out one day, but for now I at a loss. Two hours later-even though I am seeing double from exhaustion-I am still contemplating how to fulfill my vow. Finally, when the sun’s light has started drowning out the stars, I drown out my thoughts and at last get some sleep.

* * * * *
PART 3:

June 13, 1999: 10:23 AM

Someone is shaking me hard, or else there is an earthquake going on.

"Nick! Nick, wake up! You’re going to be late. Come on, Angel. Rise and shine," that someone is now yelling into my ear. Actually, they’re probably speaking normally, but my hearing is extremely oversensitive in the morning. That causes me to have a terribly unpleasant disposition anytime before 12 PM. Many people have learned that the hard way.

Even though the noise is hurting my ears, I really do not fell like opening my eyes. I ignore the person as best as I can.

I hear a sigh beside my bed. "Nick, this is Destiny. Okay, sleeping in is all good and fun. And I admit, you’re long overdue for a late morning--3 months is long time to hold out--but I am in no mood to play these games. Now, I know you can hear me, I shouted right into your ear. So, Angel, just let me see those beautiful eyes of yours, will you?"

Oh, fine. There is no way Destiny is going to leave me alone, that much is obvious. Before I realize what I am doing, I give a small laugh and opening my eyes, I reply, "All right, okay, I’m awake. Stop screeching already!"

After my eyes adjust to the sunshine, I focus on Destiny. She seems awfully silent all of a sudden. The black haired witch is sitting on a chair across from the bed, staring at me with wide blue eyes and a hanging jaw. Her right hand is placed above her heart as if she had just suffered cardiac arrest. Yes, she is the very paragon of amazement and disbelief.

"What?" I ask in bewilderment before I conceive of what I have done. I do not know whether to feel despair or happiness. Despair because I have pretty much let all of Circle Daybreak know I am speaking again. I mean, Destiny is not going to keep quiet about this. Happiness because I have just taken the first step in carrying out my promise.

Quite quickly and without warning-even to my eyes-Destiny jumps up from the wooden chair and flings herself at me. I find that I am suddenly engulfed in a mass of ebony hair, an ocean-like scent and shrieking sounds.

"Goddess, Nick, did I just imagine that or did you really say something?" She pulls back to get a good look at my face and freezes.

I imagine that I do not look too thrilled at the moment. I mean, I do not, by any means, appreciate people catapulting themselves into my arms while I am lying down in bed. Last time someone had lunged at me, it had been Leandra and I had spilled Hannah and Thierry’s dinner over half of his wardrobe. Thierry had had to wear one of my suits to a conference that night and since I am an inch shorter than he...let’s just say he didn’t have a good time.

Besides, just because I said a few words does not mean I am back to being the old Nick in a flash. My heart still hurts and I miss Leandra just as much as before.

Knowing my sudden mood swing is mostly her fault, Destiny gets off my bed and sits back in her chair. "I’m sorry Nick," she says sincerely, "I shouldn’t have done that. You need your space. I’m just so happy you would say something to me, that’s all."

"Don’t get used to it," I reply quite rudely, but I do not see why I should be polite to a crazy woman who flings herself at people. Belatedly, I realize that I have just contradicted my own words. Damn.

Destiny looks all the more crestfallen at my words. "I really am sorry," she whispers and for the first time in months, I find care about how my behavior effects others. Leandra sure knows how to work wonders.

Heavily, I sigh and apologize, "Destiny, I don’t want to make you feel bad. I’m just not ready to talk to the whole world yet."

"I’m going to have to tell Thierry about this, though," she admits almost ruefully.

I nod. Of course I knew Thierry had to be informed. "Tell Delano, too," I say. Then, so she does not think I am ordering her, I add, "If you want."

Tentatively, a smile spread across her face. "I will," she informs me. "He’s been wondering how you’ve been."

I think I forgot to mention that Delano Saldivar is currently on assignment somewhere in Northern Italy.

In answer, I nod again. Destiny finally gets the picture that I would like her to leave. As she is almost out the door, she turns back and says, "About Dr. Mitchell-"

"I am NOT seeing that lunatic ever again," I cut her off decisively. I add, "Thierry knows."

A frown creases Destiny’s brow. "He never said anything to me," she murmurs half to herself. "But I haven’t talked to him since yesterday morning. I’ll take your word for it," she says to me, then walks off down the hall. No doubt, she is going to talk to Thierry.

When Destiny is gone, I slowly sit up and wonder what to do today. News that I am speaking will definitely get around fast-things like this somehow never keep secret for long-and I do not want to face that. I have to get out, but to where? Everyone in Circle Daybreak knows what has befallen their precious Dark Angel and I do not know many people outside of the circle.

The answer came to me at once. Dr. Mitchell. So, I had said I would never see him again. It is a promise I wouldn’t mind going back on. He thought I was dumb, mad in my grief--if only that had been the case. Well, now was the chance to prove him wrong, with a vengeance.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, I open my window and climb out onto the tree outside of it. If a human sees me now, they would think I am quite confused because I start to climb UP. Normal people who want to sneak out should never climb up; but then again, I am not at all normal. Besides, normal people do not live in four story mansions run like military bases, with sharp-eyed vampires dressed like CIA agents watching your every move. The bottom line is, if I go down, I will surely be caught.

Upon reaching the top of the tree, I promptly start to shapeshift from human to bird. I am a bright blue macaw, not exactly inconspicuous in the deserts of Nevada, but I never stay blue for long.

In a deserted alleyway close to Dr. Mitchell’s office, I land and become human again. As much as I would love to stay in the air, someone in Las Vegas would soon see me. Knowing the type of people who dwell here, animal control would either be called or someone would try to catch and sell me for a couple thousand dollars. I am actually worth that much, believe it or not, and that is only as a bird.

Not that I am bragging or anything.

Discreetly, I blend into the large crowd outside the alley and head for Dr. Mitchell’s office. When I get there, I go around to the back, where he sees his patients. I do not think he could have found someone to fill my time slot just yet, so he should be there alone.

My prediction is correct. There he is, sitting behind the his cluttered desk of oak veneer. His broad back is facing the window where I watch and without his noticing, I soundlessly vault myself through the wooden frame. Years of practice has made my movements more like that of a vampire than any bird shifter.

Still unnoticed, I slide over into ‘my’ chair and clear my throat to get his attention.

The shocked expression on his dark face as he sees me makes me smile wickedly. I know I scare him and I love it.

Kindly, I let him say the first words. He is used to that. "Nicholas! How did you get in? What are you doing here? Thierry told me you were no longer to come."

I can smell his alarm and fear. I suppose I must bear an uncanny resemblance to a very pissed off angel. Well, it is time to give another blow to his ego. "I don’t know, Dr. Mitchell. You tell me. How did I get in? What am I doing here?"

I quite enjoy the sight of his jaw hitting the floor, metaphorically speaking, of course. "Y-you, you can talk!" he manages to squawk out in a high and frightened voice.

"Yes, I can talk. No thanks to you. It’s good to know you had so much faith in me," I reply calmly. Too calmly, for his liking.

I see his coffee-coloured eyes dart towards the phone the moment before he reaches for it. That moment is enough; my hand is on his before he can pick in up.

Now he really loses it. He takes in a great lungful of oxygen to holler for help, but I block the flow of air, causing him to choke. Soon, however, he recovers and bites at my hand, drawing blood. I ignore him. The wounds do not really hurt.

Tugging his head back on his neck so that struggle would make the position most painful, I whisper into his ear, "Never judge a book by its cover, Dr. Mitchell. I wouldn’t recommend it. Look at where calling people stupid can get you."

His wide brown eyes are staring up at me in panic. I do not think he really sees me or hears me. That is a mistake on my part. I am terribly short-tempered these days; I really should have stuck to the long and calm approach.

"Now, Dr. Mitchell," I say, "I am going to let you go. Promise me you won’t scream."

The terrified man nods his head vigorously, but just in case he still thinks he can outsmart me, I warn, "If you so much as try to cry for help, I’ll stop you. I guarantee it." For emphasis, I wrench his head back before pitching it forward again and letting go.

"What are you going to do to me?" the ebony-skinned man demands uneasily, his voice trembling.

I shoot him a look that says he is a fool to even think I would seriously hurt him. How stupid does he think I am? Besides, what makes him think he is important enough to hold my attention for long? I cross my arms and lean against the window frame behind him. "I want you to promise me something, Dr. Mitchell," I say, a glint of danger in my eyes.

A fine tremor has taken hold of his body as he replies, "Anything."

A small laugh sounds from deep within my throat. ‘Anything’, is not a smart answer when you do not know what someone has in mind. "I want you to promise to quit this business. You’re no good, anyway."

His eyes widen in disbelief. "You can’t mean that!"

"Oh, but I do."

"But it’s all I know! And how dare you say I am no good!" he demands indignantly, for a moment forgetting his fear. "You were just a stubborn patient. That’s your own fault."

I lift a dark brow. "I thought you said, anything. Besides, I bet I’m not the only patient you’ve failed."

Something about his face tells me I have guessed right. I wonder if Thierry knows, probably not.

Leaning down to his ear level, I place my hands on his shoulders. "You WILL do what I say, Dr. Mitchell. Or I will just have to pay you another visit," I whisper this softly, almost intimately, into his ear. Then without another sound, I silently vault over the windowsill and as an afterthought, turn back to say, "By the way, don’t call the authorities. I have connections, Dr. Mitchell."

Before he can react or even consider the thought, I am out of sight.

* * * * *