"We're here."

Chuck stared out the car window.  The clinic wasn't exactly what he was expecting.  Before him lay a large brick colonial.  An awning held up by doric columns framed the front door.  Were it not for the parking lot out front, and the sign reading "Oakfield Adolescent Development Center," it could well have been some rich fur's house.

He quickly tore his face from the house and looked at his mother, smiling at him from the front seat.  It was clear that she was just as nervous as he was about this.  But Isaac had made her promise to put her boy in therapy, and he had a point – he really WAS an exceptionally nervous cub.  The cat, too, gave him a smile from the front seat, showing the confidence that Chuck's mother was incapable of instilling in him.

"It'll be fine, little guy," Isaac said, reaching a paw back to pat Chuck's knee.  "I hear the staff here is really nice.  I'm sure they'll be able to help you."

That just made Chuck feel worse.  He was broken.  But this would fix him... right?

The border collie's ears perked as the front doors opened.  He tried to sink back into his seat as the adults got out.  He started to whimper as his mother opened the back door of the car and undid his seat belt.

"Come on, baby," she whispered, taking Chuck's paw.  "I know it's scary, but they just want to help you, ok?"

Chuck nodded and slowly slipped out of the car.  It still felt weird being here.  But he was going to trust his mother.  She wouldn't make him do this if it was gonna hurt him.  Heck, even camp, despite all the bad things that happened, ended up being good in the end.  He'd made friends there!  His first friends ever!  If this was going to help him, then he had to give it a try.

The pup squeezed his mother's paw as she led him down the walk to the front door, Isaac trailing behind.  The female came to a halt just before the door, and began to tremble.

"Oh, for Crissakes," Isaac muttered, and he stepped around the female, opening the door for them.

Chuck squeezed his mother's paw as she led him through the door.  Immediately to the right was the reception counter.  Behind the window, a doe had a phone pressed to her ear as she typed on a computer and spoke muffled words to the caller.  To the left was the waiting room, a large room filled with a number of chairs and tables scattered with magazines.  The pup squeezed in close to his mother's side as they waited for the receptionist.

Seconds dragged on like hours as they stood within the clinic.  Chuck began to tremble uncontrollably, though he couldn't even put a finger on why.  Therapy was supposed to help, right?  So it couldn't be bad.  Mommy just wanted him to be better.  Mommy and Isaac...

"Sorry for the wait," came a female voice.  "Who are you here to see?"

"N-no problem," Sarah said, her paw unconsciously stroking her son's head.  "W-we're here to see... uh... Isaac, who is he--"

"Doctor Langley," Isaac said, giving the doe a smile.  "First appointment for Chuck."

The doe tapped a few keys on her keyboard.  "Ah, yes.  Right here.  So, since this is your first visit, we'll need your health insurance card, and we have some paperwork for you to fill out," she said as she grabbed a clipboard.

After the quick exchange, the female border collie led her son into the waiting room and took a seat in one of the chairs, guiding Chuck into a chair next to her, and sighed as she looked at the paperwork on the clipboard.  Isaac seated himself at her other side and patted her knee.

"Relax, hun.  It's for the best, trust me," he whispered.

Chuck wasn't so sure about that.  He stared down at his knees, kicking his footpaws.  What if the doctor thought he was beyond help?  That he was too broken to fix?  That'd be just awful!  And what would they even do, anyway?  Would the doctor be nice?  Just so many questions.

To try to take his mind off his impending session, Chuck looked around the waiting room.  There were a few pieces of art on the walls.  A painting of a light house, one of a manor similar to the one which housed the clinic, a big tree-covered landscape.  Nothing too interesting.  Next his eyes wandered to the tables with magazines.  Time, Newsweek, Good Housekeeping, a few others Chuck couldn't see the titles of.  Probably more for the parents than for the cubs.

"Chuck?"

The border collie's head whipped up.  That voice.  He knew that voice!  Sure enough, turning to the source, he saw the familiar form of Robbie's mother standing at the entrance to the waiting room.

"Mrs. Langley!" Chuck cried, leaping up and running up to the vixen.

"That's Doctor Langley while we're here," she said, and pat the boy's shoulder before extending a paw to the female border collie.  "Nice to see you again, Sarah."

"Y-you," Sarah said, standing up and taking the vixen's paw.  "I... I didn't realize it was YOU..."

"You know each other?" Isaac asked as he stood.

"We're acquainted," Dr. Langley replied.  "Chuck was at summer camp with my boy earlier this year, and he's been over to our house a couple times since.  Terry Langley," she said, offering a paw to the feline.

"Isaac," the feline replied as he took her paw.  "Isaac Gardner.  I'm Sarah's boyfriend."

"Pleased to meet you," Terry said, giving Isaac's paw a quick shake before motioning for the cubs.  "If you'll come with me, we can sit down in my office and begin our appointment."

"B-but I haven't finished the paperwork yet," Sarah said, holding up the clipboard lamely.

"You can finish it after we've had our consulation," she said, and she held a paw out to Chuck.  "For now, come with me.  All of you, please," she said, nodding toward Isaac.

Chuck took the vixen's paw, and Terry led the family down the hall and up a flight of stairs.  They walked down a short hall, then through a set of double doors.  Here Dr. Langley released the boy's paw, and waited for the other adults to enter before closing the doors behind them.

The vixen's office was quite spacious.  A fireplace was set in one wall, with shelves filled with books on either side.  On the opposite wall was a couch, as well as a couple plush chairs positioned around a small table with a few ornaments on it.  A massive desk overlooked the room from the far end, with a large wingback chair behind it.  The desk housed the vixen's laptop computer, as well as a spread of paperwork and a few more desk ornaments.

"Have a seat anywhere you like," Terry said, motioning around the room.

Sarah took her son's paw and led him to the couch.  She seated herself in the middle, and sat Chuck at her right.  Isaac followed her and sat down at the female border collie's left.

"Dr. Langley, isn't this a bit unusual?  Seeing a patient you have some personal connection with?" Isaac asked.

"It most certainly is," Terry said as she grabbed a notebook and clipboard from her desk.  "However, as I'm familiar with Chuck's case, I believe in this case an exception is in order."  She seated herself in one of  the chairs facing the table before continuing to address the feline.  "Just from what I've seen of his behavior, I felt that he would respond best to therapy if he had a therapist he could unquestionably trust.  However, if you object, we have several other talented therapists who I am sure would love to take your son's case."

"He's not my son," Isaac said.  "Well, not in any meaningful sense," he said, catching himself as he saw the pup's ears droop.  "I mean, he's Sarah's, obviously, and I suppose Sarah and I are... kind of an item?  But I wouldn't exactly call myself a father figure for him."

"I see," Terry said, making a note in her notebook.  "Well, before we go any further, allow me to explain what we'll be doing today.  This is an intake, so I'll be asking a series of questions.  Medical history, a bit of Chuck's personal history, what brought you to therapy, what you hope to get out of it."

"O-of course," Sarah said.

They went through a brief medical history (Chuck was born a few weeks premature, needed a couple of surgeries, hit most of his developmental milestones on the late end of normal), siblings (none), relationship with mother (close).  At the father relationship, tension arose.

"Ch-chuck's father was..." Sarah began.  "He... he wasn't a good male," she whispered.

Terry made a few notes on her clipboard, and a few more in her notebook.  "I understand this may be hard, but it's important that I know what his father was like.  I can't help your son if I don't have his full history."

Sarah gulped and started to shiver.  Chuck began to whimper himself and leaned against his mother.  It was obvious that neither border collie were eager to discuss the male.

"Mr. Gardner, do you know anything about Chuck's father?" Terry asked.

"Afraid I can't help you there," the feline replied, and he put an arm around Sarah's shoulders.  "Honey, you need to tell the doctor about him.  She needs to know!"

For a few seconds, no one said anything, and Chuck's whimpers got louder.  Terry cleared her throat to break the silence.

"We'll skip that one for now," she said, and made a few more notes in her notebook.  "Mr. Gardner, how would you characterize your relationship with Chuck?"

The feline rubbed his chin as he considered the question.  "Distant," he said.  "He's a very shy boy.  We haven't really been able to connect, you know?  I'd like to be able to build a relationship with him, but he's just so... closed off.  Sometimes it seems like he's afraid of me."

"I understand," Dr Langley said, and took a few more notes.  "So, I noted when you called that you wanted him seen because of his nightmares.  Can you tell me a little about that?"

"I don't know what he dreams about," Isaac said, and he patted Sarah's knee.  "Has he ever told you about them?"

The female border collie shook her head.  A shiver ran down her spine, and she visibly trembled in her seat.

"Well, whatever they're about, they scare the shi-- uh, crap out of him," Isaac said, catching himself.  "Ever since they moved in about two years ago, he wakes up two, three nights a week screaming bloody murder.  We put plastic sheets on his bed because he wets the bed pretty regularly.  I mean... I don't have any cubs of my own, but this... this can't be normal, right?"

Terry raised an eyebrow and glanced at the pup.  "Well, certainly not," she said.  "I would imagine that is the cause of these dreams may also be contributing to his bed wetting.  Don't worry," she said, looking right at Chuck, "I won't be asking you about those today.  In future sessions we will, but that will be at your own pace."  She turned her attention back to the adults.  "Are there any other behaviors that are of concern for you?"

Isaac let out a nervous chuckle.  "Well, obviously you know that he's incredibly shy, and he scares easily.  If we could work on that?"

"Certainly a possibility," Dr. Langley said.  "I understand that Chuck is home schooled.  Does he participate in any sort of extracurricular activities, anything where he interacts with other cubs or adults?"

"N-not really," Sarah said.  "I, uh... haven't been too enthused by the idea of putting him out there.  He's very shy."

"Well, he won't learn those social skills without practice," Dr. Langley said.  "I can make a list of some activities you may wish to consider enrolling Chuck in.  Obviously, what you do is up to you, but I would recommend at least trying something.  Swimming lessons, dance lessons, martial arts, youth sports, a gaming group – there are many options, of course."

"So you can help him?" Isaac said.  "With... everything?"

"I can certainly try," Dr. Langley said.  "From what I know of his behavior and what you've told me, it sounds like Chuck may be suffering from some form of post traumatic stress disorder.  We have a variety of treatment options available.  I'd like to start with some talk therapy to learn what's behind these behaviors, and possibly some cognitive behavioral therapy.  But that will require some time to determine the best course of action."

"PTSD?" Isaac said.  "Sarah, what the hell happened with that ex of yours?"

The border collies remained silent.

Isaac shook his head.  "What about medication?  Would that help?"

"Medication?!" Sarah said, her eyes bulging in horror.  She looked from the cat to the vixen, as though she couldn't believe what she had just heard.

"Psychiatric medication can be considered in extreme cases," Dr. Langley said measuredly.  "I would need to refer him to a psychiatrist for an evaluation for medication, but I try to avoid medicating cubs unless there is absolutely no other choice.  There are just too many unknowns when using psychiatric medication on developing minds.  Though medication also requires the consent of the parent."  She reached over and pet Chuck's knee.  "And preferably that of the cub."

Chuck looked up from his knees, looking toward the vixen, but not making eye contact.  "D... do you think I need medicine, Dr. Langley?"

Terry took Chuck's paw and gave it a little squeeze.  "It's too early to tell yet, but my initial reaction is 'no.'  We'll just have to see how things develop.  For now, don't worry about having to take any pills, ok?"

The pup nodded and looked back at his knees.  He relaxed a little.  At least he wouldn't have to start taking icky pills yet.

Dr. Langley looked back at her paperwork.  "I think I have everything I need.  I just have a little homework for you," she said, and gave Chuck's paw another squeeze.  "Do you remember the nightmares that you have?"

A whimper rose in Chuck's throat, and he nodded.  Of course he remember his nightmares.  How could he forget?

"Well, next time you have one," Dr Langley said, "I want you to write down what happened in the dream, as much as you can remember, and bring it in to our next appointment."  She looked up at the adults.  "And I would ask you two not to read his dream diary.  If he wants to share it with you, that's his choice, but please, if he wishes to keep it private, respect his privacy.  Alright?"

Isaac frowned, but nodded.  "If you think that's best, Doctor."

The vixen nodded.  "I do.  I'd also like you all to fill out some questionaires, just to get a little more information about your relationships."

"Why us?" Isaac asked.  "Why not just Chuck?"

The vixen smiled patiently.  "Because I need to know how you perceive him as well as how he perceives you.  It will give me some insight into your home life, and help me give you advice for supporting his treatment."

Isaac sighed.  "Alright.  You're the expert here."

Dr. Langley stood up and walked to one of the file cabinets, and opened a drawer.  She withdrew a few stacks of paperwork and handed them out to the adults and the cub.  "I'd like to see you back next week," she said.

"I'm not sure if I could get more time off on this short notice," Isaac said.

"If you can't, that's fine," Dr. Langley said.  "Though I would like to see you again sometime with Chuck."

The feline chuckled.  "I thought HE was the one in therapy," he said, reaching around Sarah and ruffling Chuck's headfur.  The pup squeaked and hugged his knees in response.

"He is," Dr. Langley said.  "But you mentioned that you wanted to have a closer relationship with Chuck.  I think I can help, but it may be a long process, and you'll have to be patient.  I will warn you, building a normal family out of a background of trauma can be difficult work."

Isaac sighed.  "I was afraid you'd say something like that."  He stood up, and looked down at the two border collies still seated on the couch.  "But I'm willing to put in the effort if you are."

Sarah looked up at the cat, then down at her son.  "What do you think, Chuck?  Do you want to try?"

For a few seconds, the pup was silent.  Then he nodded.  After all, what choice did he have?

The adults chatted for a couple minutes longer, then left the office, Chuck clinging to his mother's side.  His stomach felt like it was trying to escape from his body.  Here he was, about to start therapy.  It wasn't the first time it had been suggested around him.  But his dad... well, his dad said therapy was for pussy faggots.  Was that what he was?  A pussy faggot?  Not a real male because he had all of these problems?

'Useless little piece of shit,' the voice of his father growled.  'Can't even stand up for yourself, can't do a fuckin' thing.  Shouldn't have kept you when we realized what a little pussy fag you are.  I wanted a son, not a bitch!'

With some difficulty, he shut out that voice in his head.  It wasn't true.  It couldn't be.  He wasn't useless.  He wasn't a bitch.  Dr. Langley was gonna help him.  Maybe Mommy couldn't stop what happened, but she got him away from Daddy.  And Mr. Isaac was an ok guy, wasn't he?  He let them live with him, so he couldn't be bad.  He wasn't anything like Daddy.

In what felt like no time at all, they were back in Isaac's car, heading home.  As they drove home (in relative silence), Chuck made a vow to himself.  He was going to try his hardest to learn to be normal.  He had to prove Daddy wrong.