The tick of a clock was always something that grated on my nerves. Constant, sharp, a reminder that time was passing anyway. My foot thudded dully on the carpet, drumming double the rate of the noise, the rate of my heart. My fingers, knit together, squeezed against each other. My cheeks burned and I felt sweat dripping down my back, soaking into my costume.

  “Take your time, Amaranth,” Dr. Yamada said gently, relaxed in her armchair. “I'm sorry, I didn't ask; would you prefer I use your codename, your given name, something else?”

  “Either,” I bit out, shaking my head. “Both. Both are...me.” Mostly.

  “Alright,” she said, nodding. “Would it help if I introduced myself?” I shook my head.

  “Doctor Yamada, parahuman therapist right?” I didn't like sounding so shitty, but was too tired to care right now.

  “That's right, I'm one of a rotating number.” She smiled in a way that felt condescending. “I'll be here for the foreseeable future though, and I'd like to offer my help.”

  “Starting with the problem kids, right?” She didn't react, but what else was the answer. “It's fine, you can be honest.” God knew one of us should be.

  “Gallant requested you be seen as soon as possible,” Yamada said slowly, picking her words to try and avoid setting me off. “Considering recent events, I agreed. Since this is our first meeting, may I ask you to introduce yourself?” I sighed.

  “Amelia D'souza, Amaranth.” It didn't even feel like a lie anymore. “Fought Leviathan on my first day out with powers.” Repeatedly. “I'm a shitty person and I'm trying,” failing, “not to be. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.” I made a mock bow of my head.

  “It's good to meet you, Amelia,” Yamada replied, kindly ignoring my sarcasm. “As you know, I'm Dr. Yamada; you can call me Jessica, if you'd prefer. I'm a parahuman therapist and psychologist, and I'm hopeful I can help.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Being hopeful,” I explained with a shrug. “This isn't gonna help, but I wish I could at least think it would.”

  “May I ask why you think it won't help?” she asked, cocking her head slightly.

  “It's just...what?” I shrugged. “I come in here, wallow in my problems for an hour, then leave feeling worse. Why bother? I need to be out there doing shit.”

  “Well ideally,” she replied with a smile. “We talk, and I offer you strategies in dealing with the things stressing you out.”

  “Any strategies for dealing with the Slaughterhouse Nine?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Call the heroes.” I rolled my eyes. “I'm serious. If you encountered one of the Slaughterhouse Nine, what would you do?”

  “Fucking answered that yesterday,” I spat, glaring at her. “The answer is go off with them and get eight people killed.”

  “You're talking about your encounter with Cherish?” I nodded. “Could you tell me about that? I'm afraid I wasn't offered the report.”

  “Nothing to tell,” I grumbled. “She told me to tell her about my...my precog stuff, or she'd kill people. I told her and wound up getting people killed anyway, so fuck me I guess.”

  “Would you do things differently?” I shut my eyes.

  “No,” I said after a moment. “Because at least I saved a quarter of them. Not a fucking passing grade but...” I shrugged.

  “That sounds like a success.” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Sorry, eight people died and you call that a success?”

  “From what I've read about the Slaughterhouse Nine, it is,” Yamada countered. “I don't think that's a small achievement, Amelia.”

  “Neither is passing two of their fucking tests” I said, rolling my eyes. “I don't think that should go on my commendations.”

  “This wasn't your first encounter with them, then?” I bit my tongue. I had said that...kind of. “Please, Amelia, don't be afraid to speak in here.”

  “I'm not afraid I—” My breath hitched and I shook my head. “Yeah, I got nominated by Jack Slash. Bonesaw made me kill my--” not my dad, “someone. It's fine, I'm over it.” I shivered as my projection rested on my shoulders, tensing.

  “I'm very sorry,” she said seriously.

  “You didn't pull the trigger,” I spat. “Anyway, it's whatever.”

  “It doesn't sound like it's 'whatever' to you.”

  “It is,” I insisted, even as I swallowed the acrid taste of bile. “I just...have to get over it.” 'Oh sweetheart, what'd they do to you?' “He wasn't my dad.” I blinked and sniffed.

  “I didn't suggest he was,” Yamada said gently. Oh.

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  “Um.” I swallowed. “I-- I don't want to talk about it.”

  “Alright,” she replied easily. “Would you like to talk about your time in the Wards program so far? Have you made any friends?” Friends...

  “Not really,” I said with a shrug. “Shadow Stalker hates my guts because I'm a Nazi, Gallant hates me for fucking him over a bunch, Weld probably hates me because...probably the Nazi thing too.” I sighed. “I barely talk to them since my quarters are separate, but I don't want to move in either because I don't even fucking know if I want to be here and--” I tasted blood as I bit my tongue hard.

  “May I ask what you mean by you not knowing if you want to be here?” I kept my mouth shut and eyes fixed on the floor. “I won't bring up anything disclosed here to anyone, Amelia; not unless it poses and immediate risk to you or someone else.” I swallowed and hugged my knees to my chest.

  “I don't belong here,” I said after a minute of silence. “I-- I just don't. Everyone's fine, they tolerate me well enough for how much grief I give them. I just...for way too many reasons to get in to, most of which I really don't wanna talk about, I'm an outsider. The Nazi thing, precog bullshit, whatever; they're them and I'm...me.” Us.

  “Fitting in in a new environment can be difficult,” Yamada replied, missing the point. “Especially under circumstances like this. That said, I think your assessment of your teammates is maybe pessimistic.”

  “Yeah maybe I can upgrade their assessments to 'who?' and call it a day.” I sighed. “Well, except Gallant. Don't think he'll ever forgive me.” Not that he should, nor that I deserved.

  “Gallant seemed concerned for your well-being, not angry,” she countered. “May I ask why you feel that way?”

  “I've either failed him at every turn or got him in trouble,” I answered quietly. “I fucked up saving his girlfriend from something I knew was coming, nearly got him killed by Cherish, then got eight people killed under his watch.” I bit my lower lip to stop it trembling, then took a deep breath. “If he doesn't hate me, he's a fucking idiot.”

  “Did you try to prevent those things?”

  “Of fucking course,” I snapped. “What you think I'm a fucking monster? You wouldn't be the first, but I'd be surprised to hear it coming from you.”

  “I think,” she began slowly once I was done bitching. “That you're a young woman going through an extremely difficult time in your life and trying your best in the worst possible circumstances.” I kept my mouth shut and my eyes locked on the floor. “Please stop me if you think I'm off the mark, but I feel you are far more critical of yourself than you think others are.”

  “My best amounts to shit,” I said at last, pressing my eyes into my knees. “It doesn't matter if I try because I don't succeed. Maybe other people have lower standards, but that doesn't mean I should.”

  “Do you think having higher standards will help you succeed?”

  “I don't know,” I said with a shrug. “I guess. If I have high standards then I'll try and get better, and if I get better maybe my best will too. If I just tell myself 'no that's fine that you got all those people killed because a couple lived' then I may as well just give up.”

  “I think there's room between those extremes,” Yamada countered.

  “For someone not already on the road to hell, maybe.” My shoulders slumped. “I can't afford it though. My mom was a big enough Nazi that Victor recognized me when my mask got torn off and now...yeah, if I let myself slip then...” Dying would be the least of my concerns.

  “I see why you feel that way,” she said with a kind smile. “Is that why you feel you don't belong in the Wards?”

  “Partly,” I said.

  “And the other part?” she asked when I didn't continue. I bit my lip.

  “I don't...”

  My brows knit and I frowned. I couldn't tell her about...all that and everything, I'd actually be in danger of getting fucked because of it. Telling Cherish, well, maybe that had been a mistake but I knew she'd be at the bottom of Brockton Bay before the Nine left town. Not Yamada though, she stuck around past the end of everything. If I told her...I couldn't, not yet. Maybe...maybe one day, if I could swear her to secrecy like Dean. If I stayed in the Wards that long. If I lived that long.

  “Sorry,” I said at last, shaking my head. “It's personal.”

  “I understand,” Yamada said with a nod.

  “My...power,” I began hesitantly, after a solid five minutes of silently stewing, my guts at war trying to make up my mind. “It makes me feel crazy.”

  “Can you describe that in a better way?” she asked, making me sigh.

  “It's...” I tapped my chin, searching for the right word. I found it buried near the top of thirty years. “Dysphoric? Is that the word?”

  “Like it doesn't belong to you?” I snapped my fingers.

  “Something like that, maybe.” I swallowed and licked my lips with a parched tongue. “And the way I um, know things is different to other precogs. I think.”

  “I see.” Yamada pursed her lips and made a note. “I'm not so well educated on how various powers work, but if you have questions about yours I could ask colleagues who are. Discreetly, of course.”

  “Of course,” I couldn't stop the sarcastic retort. “Sorry. Um, no questions really.” Besides the classics of 'what', 'why', and 'how'. “I guess it's just...they're memories but not mine, sort of. Anyway, it all sucks and I feel like I can't talk to anyone about it because it sounds completely insane to anyone who's not like, in my head.” I stared at the ground, tapping my foot. Even talking around it like this made my stomach churn with anxiety.

  “If you'll pardon my ignorant perspective,” Yamada said, a hint dryly. “It sounds like someone struggling with how their power manifests, not insane.”

  “It would if I--” I bit my tongue before I could finish. “Sorry. I'm not describing it well I guess.”

  “You have memories in your head about the future that feel like they don't belong to you. Is that about right?” I grimaced.

  “I guess.” They didn't belong to me, I went to Arcadia-- no I went to Sardis Secondary. Right? Right. Right... “Gallant told me not to use it.”

  “Your memory power?” I nodded. “And how did you feel about that?”

  “Pissed,” I snapped. “It's like telling Panacea not to heal.” I winced. Bad example right now...

  “So you want to use your power to help people?”

  “Obviously.” I rolled my eyes. “If I know something bad's coming, I can stop it. Well, I can't as it turns out, but even still I have to try.”

  “Do you think that--” My cell rang sharply, interrupting her. I grumbled unhappily and looked at Yamada, who just gave me a gentle smile and a nod.

  “Amaranth,” I answered snappishly after tearing it from my pocket.

  “You're needed upstairs,” Gallant's voice came back. “Boardroom Three, ten minutes, in costume.”

  “I'm in the middle of therapy,” I complained. I didn't want to do therapy but I didn't want whatever the fuck awaited in Boardroom Three either.

  “I know, and I'm sorry.” He sounded genuine at least. “I'll try and get you another slot this week, but we need you.”

  “Fine,” I said, sighing. “Be there soon.” I hung up and turned to Yamada. “Sorry doctor, I have a job.” Unfortunately.

  “I hope we can meet again soon, Amelia.” She had what looked like a genuine smile. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

  “Yeah same,” I said, shifting and pulling up my mask and hood. “Well, see you.” I turned and left her office.

  I couldn't said it had been nice, but I felt at least hopeful it would be, eventually.