Crazy
                                                          By Naia Zifu


	So this was a psychiatrist's waiting room.  Vachon looked
around, unimpressed by the beige walls hung with prints of fruit bowls
and flowers, fake plants, light brown carpeting, and uncomfortable
chairs upholstered in taupe with dark brown pin-dots.  A coffee table
held all manner of old magazines, with a clear plastic display of
brochures on mental illness sitting on one corner.  The clock on the
wall told him he'd been there nearly an hour already, during which he'd
done little else but stare at a print of magnolia blossoms.  If this
took much longer, he might have to browse those brochures just to make
sure he wasn't developing symptoms!

	A strangely blond Japanese guy beside him was reading one of
last month's exotic car magazines.  He was young and quite handsome,
with delicate features. . . "bishounen", if Vachon remembered the word
correctly.  By far he was the most sane-looking one in the room.

	"What you here for?" Vachon asked.

	"Hmm?" The young man looked up from his magazine.  "Oh, I'm
here with my. . . partner. . ."

	Vachon nearly fell off his chair!  "Bishoujo", he found, was
the more appropriate term for his seatmate; the voice was deep, but
to his sensitive vampire ears, identifiably female.

	"She painted the end of the world in art class again," the
young woman continued, "so they sent her here for evaluation.  You?"

	"Here with a friend," Vachon replied.  "Lady cop, killed her
first crook not long ago, then almost got butchered up by some serial
killer.  Needs to pass this evaluation before they'll let her back on
the job."

	"Was the killer German?" a middle-aged, shaggy-haired Japanese
man sitting across the room interrupted.  "About twenty years old, with
blond hair?"

	"I dunno," Vachon said.  "Didn't see him, myself.  Why?"

	"I performed the surgery that saved his life," the man said.
"I allowed that monster to live, to kill again.  Now I have to track
him down and kill him myself."

	"Erm, yeah. . . good luck with that," Vachon said, giving the
obviously troubled man a strange look.

	"You think that's something?" challenged a young Japanese guy
(Vachon was sure this time) with spiky blond hair.  "You oughtta try
_being_ Death for a while!  And I thought my life was strange before,
when I could just see the dead and talk to them and stuff. . ."

	Vachon just blinked.  Where did they find these people?

	Mercifully, Tracy chose just that moment to emerge from the
doctor's office and retrieve her purse from where she'd left it on
Vachon's lap.

	The androgynous blonde sitting beside Vachon looked Tracy up
and down appreciatively.

	"Not bad for a lady cop," she purred.  "I can sleep easy,
knowing a good-looking woman like you is out there to protect me."

	Vachon's jealous side kicked in immediately.

	"Look, the lady don't swing that way," he said, drawing a
puzzled look from Tracy, "and besides, didn't you say you were here
with your girl?"

	"I seem to recall you saying you two were just friends. . ."

	"It's complicated," Tracy interrupted, then turned to Vachon.
"Ready to go?"

	"Yeah.  It's been. . . interesting.  I'm just glad it's all
over," he said wearily.

	"For this week, anyway," Tracy said.  "Doc's asked me to come
back same time next week for a follow-up, just to make sure I'm okay."

	Vachon stopped in his tracks, a look of horror on his face, at
the thought of having to deal with these crazy people again in a week.
Already, in the background, he could hear that weird doctor comparing
Tracy to some girl he knew-- twin sister to the killer he claimed to be
hunting.  Between that and the chick who'd just been trying to chat
Tracy up, Vachon knew backing out of next week's appointment wasn't an
option.

	"I'm there," he said with a sigh, as he trudged out behind her.

	"Oh, and what was that all about back there, 'the lady doesn't
swing that way'?  Vachon, did you tell that guy I was gay?"

	Vachon opened his mouth to explain the whole ordeal, but knew
Tracy wouldn't buy it if he told her-- he barely even believed it
himself!

	"It's complicated," he echoed Tracy's earlier statement.  "I
just wanna go home and try to forget this whole thing ever happened."

	"Sure thing," she replied, starting up her practical Ford and
heading for Vachon's church, "until next week. . ."



©2005 Naia Zifu, all rights reserved.
Vachon, Tracy, Haruka, Dr. Tenma, and Ichigo all belong to their
respective creators, not me.  I just thought it would be fun to poke
them all into this fic together!  Once again, I'm not trying to make
money off others' ideas.
This fic was written in answer to a challenge on the Vaqdreams list.
Lazy person I am, these challenges may be the only way to get me
steadily writing anything FK-related, so let's hope they continue!