Diaval doesn't like seeing Destiny so upset. It's not even that she's noticeably upset, with crying and moping and laying in bed for hours after she wakes up. It's more of a subtle difference. She doesn't mope. She goes outside and trains even harder than she did before, building snowmen only to slice them apart and kick the pieces into nothing. She doesn't lay in bed for hours. She goes around the house and cleans, nitpicking and finding whatever she can to keep herself busy when she can't go outside due to the extreme cold.

Diaval tries to count how often she rearranges the bookshelf, but loses count after six. He isn't good at counting.

What's more, he can sense that she's hurting in a deeper sense than physical. She still yearns for Leonardo when her nightmares come and disturb her rest, but her reactions to the images Diaval sends into her mind change from relief to utter guilt. She accepts them still, but not as readily. She asks the ninja turtle in her dream if he'll ever forgive her and the question is more often than not left unanswered.

She's on edge too. Her sleep is still terrible. She still has headaches and visions at random times, often causing her to lapse into an episode where she can do nothing but stare at the wall, try to breathe normally despite the constricting feeling in her chest, and sometimes she breaks down crying after it's over. Diaval doesn't understand what it means.

"Oscar?" Diaval asks as he digs the farmer's barn out of some heavy snowdrifts. "If someone is getting scared at nothing, what should you do?"

Oscar heaves a shovelful of snow away from the barn entrance, looking to the boy with a raised eyebrow. "Scared of nothing? Do you mind elaborating?"

"Destiny gets scared from nothing, if the lights flicker too much, if the water in the shower's too cold. She isn't happy," Diaval says, smacking the caked snow from his mittens before getting back to work. "Want to help her."

The farmer thinks over the words as he bends down to scoop away more snow. "Sounds like she's anxious. Maybe she could use a therapist of some sort."

"Thera...pist?"

"Yeah, like a doctor. They talk to you about your troubles and help you cope," Oscar says, resting his shovel against his hip as he brushes snowflakes from his beard. "If you want, I can take you into Regina and we can look around for someone? Unless..." He grimaces a little. "Well, with what she is, I don't know how most people will react..."

"It'll help her?" Diaval asks.

"Possibly, you never know."

"Should try it."

"If you want to, bud." Oscar laughs. "Let's finish up here, then we'll see about that drive."

----------

Diaval regrets some of his decisions and this is one of them. The inside of the clinic is very clean and brightly lit. The receptionist at the counter is always typing, writing, filing, or picking up calls, his voice a drone in Diaval's ears. The people around him also chatter so much that it becomes indiscernible noise, coughs and mutters and sometimes the occasional baby crying.

He tucks his head lower and clenches his hands together in his lap, starting to hum one of the piano concertos he heard on a CD earlier this morning. He can't sing, but the memory of the tune itself serves to calm him down slightly.

His eyes flick upwards to the chair directly ahead of him, where a woman sits with a baby on her lap. The woman is engaged in a conversation with the man next to her, their voices fast and clipped with a foreign language. The baby in the woman's lap stares at Diaval with wide, almond-shaped eyes, a fat and wrinkly fist jammed in her slobbery mouth.

Diaval blinks a few times and tilts his head. The baby giggles and grins around her own fingers, bouncing to herself as her mom's arm tightens around her middle. Diaval almost smiles.

"Mr. Crow?"

Diaval's head snaps up to the front desk, where a woman stands holding a clipboard. He scrambles to his feet, nearly tripping over a toy truck as he scurries towards the woman. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, but little else betrays her feelings.

"You wanted a private consult with a therapist?" she clarifies.

He nods. She mirrors the movement and beckons for him to follow her. He does so willingly, trailing after her as she goes down a narrow hallway lined with doors. She opens a door and lets him go in first, revealing a tiny room with two chairs, a sink, and various medical supplies alongside a cushioned table.

"The doctor will come and talk to you soon," she says. "Make yourself comfortable until then."

He walks to the nearest chair, turning back to the door just as she closes it. He makes a small noise in his throat and lunges for the handle, opening it back up and leaving it like that before he finally sits down, taking a few deep breaths. He waits patiently for another five minutes or so, then footsteps sound from down the hall and the doctor appears. His eyes widen and his lips part into a gape.

The woman before him is young and petite and he must admit, far prettier than anyone else he's seen today. Her short auburn hair frames her angular face and there's a pair of glasses perched on the edge of her nose, which is dotted with freckles. She looks up at Diaval and smiles, revealing dimples in her cheeks and the incredibly dark colour of her eyes.

"Diaval Crow?" she asks. He snaps his mouth shut and nods. She holds her hand out to him as her calm smile remains. "I'm Doctor Melanie Sharp, it's nice to meet you," she says.

He doesn't take her hand, unable to look away from her face. "H-Hello."

She lowers her hand. "So, you wanted..." She giggles. "Um, help for your friend, who gets scared of nothing?" His cheeks flare with colour and he manages little more than a nod. She stops laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry, it's just...when the nurses told me, I thought it might've been a joke."

"Not a joke," he says. "Dunno what's wrong with her."

Melanie sits down in the second chair. "Why don't you explain a little more and I'll see what I can do to help?"

He does. He tells her about what he's noticed about Destiny's behaviours and how he came because his boss, Oscar, told him that therapists know how to handle that sort of thing.

"Ah..." Melanie hums to herself. "Can I ask, has your friend been through anything traumatic?"

Diaval stiffens, his fingers curling around his kneecaps, but he nods. "Mmhmm."

"What kind of trauma? Can you tell me anything more?"

He leans back slightly, his throat suddenly very dry. "Bad..." She makes little circles with her hand as if coaxing him further. "Got...electrocuted, and..." He shakes his head and looks away.

"Alright, we'll start with that," she murmurs, marking it down. "I think some cognitive behavioural therapy will help her. I'm new to this clinic, so my hours are flexible. When can she come in?"

Diaval's gaze snaps back to her. "She can't."

"Pardon?"

His jaw clenched. "She...can't. She's..." His lips press firmly together, his body flooding with heat out of frustration. He looks to the door for a split second before back to the woman. "Private sessions at farm would be...nice."

Melanie gives him a long look, but nods and marks it down. "And...is that address the same one that's on your emergency contact list?"

He peers over at the page as she flips it to him. He squints, his snaggletooth digging into his lip as he tries to focus, but most of the words are blurry and foreign. He manages to work out Oscar's name sitting next to a string of numbers and letters, making him nod hesitantly.

"Good, and method of payment?"

Again, embarrassment floods him. "D...Dunno..."

Her gaze grows more sympathetic. He ducks his head, staring down at his lap, and he hears the chair legs squeak against the floor as she scoots closer. His eyes flicker back to her. "Diaval, do you have a guardian I can talk to?" she murmurs, her soft gaze making him feel warm in a different way.

"Oscar's by the food," he answers.

A short giggle escapes her. "Okay, why don't you come to the cafeteria with me and we'll work out the financial stuff there? If Oscar has a health plan, it shouldn't cost anything."

"Mmkay."

They stand up and head out, him trailing after her like a lost puppy. Before they reach the bustling waiting room, he reaches out and grabs the edge of her white coat, tugging it once. She looks over at him.

"Her name is Destiny."

"That's a lovely name."

Another short distance crossed.

"Do...d'you think you can help her?" he whispers.

She smiles and nods. "I'll do my best."

----------

"Um, before going in," Diaval says, stopping Melanie in her tracks as they approach the tiny house, "y'know, m'friend is different."

Melanie blinks a few times. "Can't be that bad. I'm sure it's something I've seen before."

He highly doubts it, but stays silent. "Just...prepare."

They reach the door, but it opens before Diaval can grab the handle. Destiny appears, looking incredibly annoyed.

"Diaval, you better have—" She screeches to a verbal halt as her wild eyes fall on Melanie, her scarred face losing colour. "Who..."

Melanie steps back, her own face a mask of shock. "W-What..."

Destiny dashes from the doorway, slamming the door behind her and leaving the two humans outside. Diaval buries his nose in his scarf, exhaling heavily.

"Sorry..." he mutters out.

"Uh, well, I..." Melanie coughs, forcing a shaky smile. "I suppose explanations will come with time," she says, her voice breathy.

They go inside, where any sign of the wolf mutant's presence has disappeared. Diaval offers Melanie a seat on the couch before he searches for Destiny. He eventually finds her huddled in the tiny bathroom, hunched behind the shower curtain.

"Destiny—" he starts.

"Why is there a person here?!" she whisper-shouts. "Why did you bring a person here without telling me about it, and why did I wake up to find you and Oscar gone?!"

"She's your doctor."

"My...what?"

Diaval blinks. "Got'cha a doctor."

Her eyes narrow. "I don't need a doctor. I'm not sick."

"Oscar said these doctors help the head," Diaval continues, resting a hand on his hair. "She said she'd help you with the scared stuff."

"But you didn't mention the fact that I'm mutilated and half wild animal?" she snaps.

"...no."

A heavy sigh. "Go and warn her, then I'll see about coming outside."

He nods and backs towards the door, bumping his hip against the sink as he does, but stops. He gives her a long look.

"Could'ya try?" he asks. "Oscar's paying her."

Destiny's face softens, but she remains silent. Diaval leaves the bathroom and shuts the door behind him as gently as he can. Melanie's attention is on him in an instant, her face drawn with concern.

"Is...she okay?" she asks, hesitating on the pronoun for a split second.

"She's weird about humans," Diaval states.

She shifts on the couch, swallowing. "Oh, s-so...she isn't human after all?"

"Nope, wolf mutant."

She stares at him as he sits down in a vacant chair, but averts her gaze as soon as he notices her looking. She pretends to be enthralled by her bag, which is stuffed with the supplies she felt were necessary to bring along.

"How old are you?" Diaval asks.

She flashes a tight smile. "Uh...twenty-five," she answers, pushing a strand of reddened hair behind her ear. His face falls slightly, but not enough to cause a drastic change in his demeanour. "You?"

He blinks. "...nineteen?"

"It sounds like you don't know," she observes.

He shrugs. "Guess so."

Melanie doesn't take her eyes off him, her mind racing, and she opens her mouth to speak again. She never gets a word out. The bathroom door swings open and Destiny storms into the room, hands in fists and jaw clenched.

"Okay, let's just lay it all on the table right now," she says, her voice gaining a vicious undertone that serves to make both the spectators feel on edge. "I am half wolf, I lived on the streets for most of my life, I was tortured, and a wild animal gave me these," she says, pointing to the scars marring her face. "Got it?"

Melanie gapes at her for a moment. She gulps, shuts her mouth, and nods. After another second, she smiles lightly. "Oh, you're already being honest with me, Destiny. That's good!"

Destiny's face instantly slackens, her hands unfolding slightly. Diaval looks at both women.

"Huh?" Destiny nearly squeaks.

Melanie pats the couch spot next to her, nodding once. Destiny eyes Diaval, who also nods once and gestures to the spot. The teen exhales and gives in, shuffling over and plopping herself down before folding her arms tightly over her chest.

Melanie takes another deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry if I seem off. I didn't expect one of my first real clients to be...like you." Destiny shrugs once, refusing to look at the woman. "Diaval told me that you've been having some trouble with trauma, so he's brought me to give you some behavioural therapy."

"You won't be able to make it go away," Destiny mumbles. She purses her lips. "I won't be able to forget."

"This isn't about forgetting," Melanie murmurs. "It's about learning to cope and knowing that what happened to you isn't your fault." She tilts her head slightly. "Do you want me to explain more about the therapy?"

"Sure."

"I'm going to help you change how you think about your trauma and its aftermath, and how certain thoughts will make your symptoms worse. I'll help you replace those thoughts with more accurate and less distressing ones," she speaks, her tone low and calming. Destiny slowly looks at her, her eyes losing some of their rage. "And I'll help you learn to cope with anger, guilt, and fear that came from the trauma."

Destiny's eyes widen and she instantly looks at Diaval. The male averts his gaze, making her return her attention to Melanie.

"How...how do you know that?" she whispers. "That I was feeling..."

Melanie's smile becomes more gentle, more inviting, and less scared. "A lot of people know what it's like to feel like that, Destiny." She reaches her hand out and rests it on the cushion near Destiny's leg. "Are you okay with me trying to help you?" The wolf bites her lip, her fingers knitting together in her lap. "This is a safe place, and it's okay if you don't trust me right away. You can talk to me about whatever you need to. I won't judge."

Destiny looks up at her, finally meeting her eyes. Melanie doesn't waver, although her fingers press down against the cushion as a knee-jerk reaction.

"I nearly killed my only friends in the whole world," Destiny whispers, maintaining the intense glare. "I didn't, but I almost did, and now I can't forget." Melanie pales but still doesn't move. Destiny keeps the contact for a solid five seconds more before relaxing and giving a short nod. "You didn't run away. I guess you're serious."

Melanie pulls her hand back. "I am," she says, straightening up. "I won't talk about anything we talk about in here with anyone else. That's a promise."

Destiny looks at Diaval again, questioning etched in the lining of her face. He returns a silent, almost pleading gaze, and the wolf exhales.

"Alright, let's do it."