A/N: People... I've had one of the roughest cases of writer's block this past month. So if this chapter sucks... well... lets just hope you guys don't think it sucks too bad. Enjoy!

Warning: This story is YAOI, M/M, homosexual. You don't dig don't read and don't bother to flame.

Thanks a bunches Esqi for being my beta!

This story is written and dedicated to Jason.

Chapter Three

"Angela, the man is an ass. You know he is. How am I supposed to work with someone who –"

"Does your job better than you do?" Tristan growled out, thoroughly pissed that the man would try not only to insult him to his face, but also to get his longtime colleague to side against him. All the building’s employees had come together in the lobby – their make-shift meeting room – to discuss the center's problems and weaknesses while introducing and assigning new patients. This was also where they discussed group sessions and where proper funding was needed. Tristan was simply appalled that the man would dare call him out in such a manner, right in front of his co-workers.

"Is there a problem here we should know about?" Dr. Allen Montgomery, the emergency and borderline psychiatrist, asked.

"Not worth bothering anyone with," the blond answered, shaking his head at the other man who was sure to be embarrassed and even more pissed when his plan, if indeed that's what it was, blew up in his face.

"The hell there isn't!"

"Mind your language," Angela scolded, "and tell us what’s on your mind, John."

"I'll be happy to," John cast a smug look in the other man’s direction before proceeding. "I have been having some troubles with Dr. Blake. Other than his cocky attitude, which has come to be quite offensive to me, he actually had the audacity to re-evaluate my patients! He –"

"Tristan, was that necessary?"

"First off, I don’t feel the need to explain myself when I was clearly in the right, but I suppose this matter does need some clearing," he said, his voice hard and laced with a blatant reprimand. "Dr. Washington here diagnosed Eric Nelson, of all people, with dysthymia. I did as I was asked by keeping an eye on John and looking over his first assignment to ensure he was properly suited for the position. I did as was necessary for the boy's state – which was clearly more serious than his doctor thought it was."

Nearly the entire board knew of Eric from his loud, rather threatening outbursts and sullen manner when entering the building. Save it to say, the kid had made it crystal clear he had no wish to be there and after seeing how his doctor acted on a general basis – Tristan didn't blame him!

"I was not unkind, just firm after reading the man's notes and considering what experience I had with Eric myself. I'm sure you've probably looked over the papers, Angela, and have seen where my diagnosis for bipolar depression is."

"I saw and am in complete agreement with you. I've never questioned your skills, Tristan," the rather robust woman said.

Tristan gave her a soft smile before turning once more to a now sulking John. "Look, I don't know how they run things wherever it is you transferred from. But here, our main focus is on our patients and their wellbeing not this ridiculous rivalry you’ve conjured up in your mind featuring the two of us. And then to bring such a thing up in mixed company …" He shook his head at the man.

The room was silent for a moment as John sputtered for an excuse for his behavior. Of course there wasn't one, at least not one that would interest anyone but himself.

"I agree with Tristan," Allen said. "This is not a popularity contest. It's a job dealing with real people with serious risks for our mistakes. If you can't follow the rules and respect other people's opinions, suggestions or even orders then this is not the place for you. We’re all here to what needs to be done and if that means swallowing your pride and letting a more qualified or experienced doctor take on your tasks, so be it."

"I understand," John said his face marred with a deep flush of embarrassment.

"Now, on to more important things ... Tristan, I have an assignment for you. One that goes by the name of Jason Harker."

Tristan nodded even as his brow furrowed. Damn that name sounded familiar.

--

Jason stared hard at the clock, silently willing it to go faster. He had arrived for his very first appointment ten minutes early, leaving himself enough time to decide just what he would and would not tell the doctor while waiting in the lobby. Yes, he was that type of person. He had never been one to pour out his business, feelings or emotions to anyone, much less a damned stranger with a degree in being nosy. He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind that asked him just what he hell he was doing here. The simple fact was he did need someone to talk to. Regardless of his wants.

No, he wasn't crazy but he did lead a crazy existence between his band and his everyday life. It would be nice to just drop some of his thoughts, opinions and complaints about life on someone else rather than keeping it all inside and allowing it to fester.

"Jason Harker?"

He raised his head to stare at the receptionist at the mention of his name. She stood in the doorway with a clipboard and pen in her hands, not even bothering to raise her own head when he came forward. It was another two minutes – he counted – before the rude woman finally decided to acknowledge him. Surprisingly, his rather outlandish appearance didn't phase her one bit. He guessed that working where she did she had seen damn near all types of people with all types of styles, trials and illnesses.

"Dr. Blake has been a little held up but has requested that I lead you to his office. The wait should only take a few minutes but he'd like to jump right in with you when he finishes his present obligation."

Jason nodded his head and followed the woman as she led him through the double doors at the end of the main hallway. Looking around him as he walked on he couldn't help but notice the many posters promoting self help or a new drug on the market. He turned his head at the sound of yet another voice to see a young goth girl murmuring to herself as she waited outside of what looked to be the nurse’s office.

"What are you looking at?" the girl snapped when she caught his gaze.

"Haven't figured it out yet," he said before he could catch himself. He didn't miss the faint smile that graced the girl’s lips though after he said it. That was rare, he mused. A goth girl with a sense of humor. Turning his gaze from the girl he didn't miss the scolding look the receptionist gave him. He ignored it however and continued walking forward.

"Here we are, the doctor should be in here in just a few minutes," she said quickly before closing the door and leaving him in the room alone.

Again his eyes began to wander. There weren't any self help posters hung up anywhere … merely a few inspirational quotes and proverbs printed out on regular paper and taped carelessly to the wall. The furniture in the room wasn't set up like the movies. There was no lounge chair or sofa to lay back in. Simply a few worn chairs set beside an older looking desk that was pushed against the wall and that, from the look of it, was kept neat and in order. He also noticed the wide-shouldered jacket that was strewn carelessly over a desk chair that looked as if it had merely been pushed out of the way.

He quickly turned his head at the sound of the squeaking hinges as the white door opened up to reveal a windblown head of blond locks and a somewhat ruffled looking-

"No fucking way." Had he called that or what?

Tristan, whose attention had immediately been caught by such a familiar voice, quickly closed the door before meeting the other man's eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them once more and shaking his head. "You are my patient?"

Oddly enough, Jason was finding the situation in itself rather humorous and didn't bother hiding the fact. With a telltale smirk on his face, he nodded his head before chuckling a bit. "Is this fate or what?"

"Yea," the blond sighed as he moved over to his desk and sat down. "It's fate all right – fate that's going to get my ass fired" he grouched as he turned to his file cabinet, pulling out a new folder and a few blank forms.

"Over what?"

Tristan froze. "Is it that hard to remember?"

"No..." Jason felt as if his face muscles would cramp, he was grinning so much. How often did shit like this happen in one lifetime? Fucking hilarious! "What I remember is you having me up against the wall, fucking my brains out."

"In the future I would appreciate if you didn't bring that up again."

"What's the big deal anyway?" he asked, getting a little more serious – and annoyed. "We did the damn thing before I knew who you were or you me. It happened, and unless you plan on having a repeat of the other night, let's get on with it."

"I couldn't agree more," the older man said, training his voice to be reasonable and agreeable. But sometimes life was just too fucked up. Getting his forms in order he set them on the desk and pulled out a pen. "Now, Jason, we'll start this off simple enough as if you were any of my other patients."

"Okay."

"Great. Now, what are some of the goals you hope to achieve in the next six to 12 months? The reason I want to discuss this with you – other than it being standard for paperwork purposes – is so I can learn a bit more about you, get to know you and help you with your problems."

"Are you serious?"

Tristan rolled his eyes and sighed. He should have known better than to try to act professionally. The boy had used a smart mouth the other night ... a sweet tasting, very skilled mouth also, but still a smart one. "Just give me something to work with here, okay? If you'd rather us not discuss this presently, we can just get on to you and why you’re here, and you can just fill these out yourself and bring them back next time."

"What makes you think there is even going to be a next time?"

"What makes you think there won't be?"

"Good point. I enjoyed it the first time around –"

"I didn't mean that!" Tristan growled.

Jason merely chuckled and held his hand out. "I'll fill out the damn papers and give them to you on our next appointment."