Dr. Lazarus Gunthroe was having one of the worst days of his life. His wife had left him the day before for another man. Apparently Latino dance instructors were much more interesting and attractive than geeky psychiatrists. Distraught with the loss of his wife and his apparent lack of sexual appeal, Lazarus spent the evening getting wonderfully sloshed. He didn't actually remember getting sloshed, but when he woke up with the world's worst hangover he assumed that was what had happened.

He considered called in sick at work, but decided against it; such an action would have thrown his schedule into complete disarray. Besides, the job was all he had left now. His wife would doubtless sue him for everything but his goldfish, and that was because she didn't know he had one. She had never liked pets, so he kept it at work where it wouldn't disturb her.

He dismissed his first patient, a manic-depressive man named Vernon, at the earliest opportunity. Vernon was in his manic phase, which meant he was loud and hyper. The noise was too much for Lazarus to handle under the circumstances.

He was trying to distract himself from musings about what his wife and the dance instructor might be doing at that moment by reading over the notes he had taken during Vernon's session, when without so much as a warning knock his next patient stormed into the room and slumped down on the couch. Lazarus's fish, Freddie, swam around anxiously as she passed him.

Lazarus watched the woman with morbid curiosity; he had not been expecting such a fiery entrance. She bore a vague resemblance to his wife, which sent a shudder of blunted anger and dismay through his brain. She had the same swirling jade eyes, the same full pouting lips. Her hair was different, though: a shock of sun-kissed chestnut locks that covered half her face in an odd manner. At a guess, she had probably styled it that way to hide something.

He placed Vernon's notebook in a desk drawer and pulled out a new one, this one completely unused except for a simple scrawling of the woman's name on the cover. He kept a different notebook for each patient. It was easier to keep his records organized.

"Hello, Ms. Windsinger," he said, fumbling a bit over the unusual moniker. His first instinct was to laugh. He was only able to stop himself by maintaining fiercely that he didn't exactly have the most common name himself. "Would you prefer that I call you Bella? Some of my patients prefer for me to address them by their first name."

Bella shrugged. "Call me whatever you want, I don't care."

Lazarus started to speak, but she held up a hand.

"I want to make one thing clear," she said, her eyes narrowed practically to slits. "I'm not here because I want your help."

Lazarus raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here? A court order?"

"My fiancé thinks I need... counseling." Bella winced as she said the word 'counseling' as if she found it painful. She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, lit up with a flourish and focused her sullen gaze toward the left wall, where a row of plate glass windows rose from the floor to the ceiling.

Lazarus coughed loudly to get her attention. "I'd prefer that you didn't smoke, Miss Windsinger."

"Huh?"

"Your cigarette. Please put it out."

Bella rolled her eyes and stubbed out the cigarette on the arm of the couch. Lazarus started to protest against the small burn-mark that was now left on the previously pristine piece of furniture, but the damage was already done. He settled for giving her a sullen glare, then returned to taking his notes. Bella seemed to be the sort of person that translated fear into anger, hence the hostile behavior. He would have to tread lightly with her. "How do you feel about that?"

"The smoking?"

"Your fiancé."

"I'm not here to work out my problems with my boyfriend," Bella snapped. "I'm supposed to talk to you about..." She glanced over at Freddie's fishbowl, distracted. "Why do you have a fish in your office?"

In a more lucid state of mind, Lazarus would have pointed out that he was supposed to be the one asking questions. But his thought process was currently as clear as mud and after a moment of internal debate he decided that this would be a harmless one to answer. "I find he makes some of my patients more comfortable. Besides, my..." He decided against bringing his wife into the conversation and finished lamely, "My secretary and I have agreed that there's nothing wrong with having a pet fish in the office."

"Fish aren't pets."

"Excuse me?"

"Fish aren't pets."

Lazarus frowned. "I happen to think fish make very good pets."

Bella's back straightened as if she were about to recite a poem. "'Pet: noun. A domesticated animal kept for companionship or amusement.'"

Lazarus stared at her blankly.

"When I can't sleep nights I read the dictionary. It's better than watching those stupid dating shows that are on at two a.m."

"Ahh."

Bella resumed her argument. "A goldfish is not a companion, nor is it amusing. And they only have a five-minute memory span, so they sure as hell can't hold a decent conversation."

"I see..." Lazarus continued with his note-taking, but paused in mid-word when he realized what Bella had said. "Excuse me, but are you implying that you converse with goldfish?"

"No."

"I distinctly heard you use the word 'conversation'."

"Did not."

Lazarus said nothing, just gazed steadily at Bella. After a few moments she began to squirm.

"Fine. You did. I talk with animals, OK?"

Lazarus raised an eyebrow. "Fascinating."

"Don't get all analytical on me."

"It's my job to be analytical."

"Then forget your damn job and leave me alone."

"I am not going to leave you alone until you tell me why you talk to animals. The more you tell me, the shorter your session will be."

Bella seemed to consider Lazarus's statement. After a moment she slumped back on the couch in defeat. "Okay, I'm a pilot, right? Commercial flights, mostly, but I do some private work in my spare time. About nine months ago I was driving home from the airport when it started to rain... I hate rain, makes everything too damn hard to see. And I guess the other guy couldn't see me either, because his car rammed into mine at about sixty miles per hour."

She paused and licked her lips nervously.

"I gotta tell you, Doc, handling a flying plane isn't nearly as scary as handling a flying car."

Lazarus was moving his pencil at a furious pace, but glanced back and forth between Bella and the paper at an almost constant rate. He didn't want to miss a single nuance of her monologue.

Bella cleared her throat, probably in an attempt to ease her discomfort, then continued. "I wasn't smashed up too bad, considering. Couple of broken bones and a nasty knock to the head... That's where it got complicated." She brushed her hair away from her face to reveal a nasty- looking hairline scar that traced up her forehead back to her scalp. "Brain trauma, coma, that sort of thing. I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. When I got out, I realized I could understand animals."

Lazarus leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. He had never dealt with a case quite like this before. "Could you only understand them, or could you..."

"Talk to them. Converse with them. The whole bit." She glared at the fish bowl. "Your fish is hungry. Feed him so he'll shut up."

Lazarus had already fed Freddie once, but he did as Bella demanded. Once the fish was busy gorging himself, Lazarus returned his attention to Bella. "You were saying?"

"Yeah. I can talk to animals now. I figure it has something to do with the brain trauma."

"I never would have guessed," Lazarus said in a flat tone.

Bella rolled her eyes. "I don't talk to just any animals, though. I refuse to talk to fish. Bugs I try to ignore, too... they're everywhere. It's like a constant background noise the minute I go outside. Wild animals would usually rather run than talk, and most pets are too busy trying to keep their owners' attention to get mine as well."

"Then what animals do you do talk to?"

"My cats, my fiance's dog and my best friend's ferret. The cats make interesting conversation, but sometimes they'll ignore me. The dog's OK, but he agrees with anything I say. It pisses me off sometimes."

"And the ferret?"

"I don't talk to him unless I have to... our personalities don't mesh. Besides, he smells like pee."

"How does your fiancé feel about all of this?"

"He sent me here, didn't he?"

Lazarus said nothing, just waited for Bella to provide her explanation.

"He didn't seem to mind, at first, but after awhile it started to get to him. Plus he seems to think that his dog and I are keeping a secret from him. He's the one who should be seeing a shrink, not me... he's too damn paranoid." She glared at the fish bowl. "The fish is talking again."

Lazarus shrugged. "I can't help that, now, can I?"

"I'm not going to start talking again until he stops."

Lazarus could feel his temper rising. He quelled it forcefully. "Ignore him."

"I can't."

"How difficult can it be?"

"Have you ever tried to ignore a talking goldfish?"

"Unfortunately, I have not yet had that opportunity."

"Well, it's damn impossible."

"Miss Windsinger, you are beginning to try my temper." That was the understatement of the century. Beneath the desk, Lazarus's hands were clamped onto the notepad so tightly his knuckles had begun to turn white.

"I don't give a shit." Bella lit another cigarette and puffed away at it, ignoring Lazarus's stern looks. "God, I'm beginning to hate animals... If you don't shut the damn fish up I'll do it for you."

"Calm down, Miss Windsinger." Lazarus sat up in his seat and did his best to portray an aura of command. It had no effect on Bella whatsoever.

"I'm as calm as I can be in the circumstances," Bella snapped. "You're supposed to be helping me, not making me feel like a claustrophobic little bitch."

"Please tone down your language, Miss Windsinger."

"I don't give a damn about my language, Doc!" She stood up, her entire body shaking. She walked over to his desk, grabbed the fishbowl and, before Lazarus could stop her, threw it straight at the plate glass window. Both shattered and the fish flew helplessly through the air before impacting on the ground three stories below with a quiet splat.

An eerie calm seemed to come over Bella. Then she realized what she had done. She turned to Lazarus guiltily and said "Whoops," in what she seemed to think was an apologetic tone.

Lazarus could feel cold anger trickling down his back to the base of his spine. He had liked that fish. It had given him something to watch in between sessions. It was the only thing his wife would have no desire to take from him during what was sure to be a long and painful divorce. He stood up deliberately, every muscle movement reflecting his rage. It took every ounce of self-control in his body to say more than a simple, "Get out."

Bella appeared unnerved by Lazarus's show of barely-restrained temper. "Whoa, chill out, Doc. You look like you're about to go volcano on me..."

Lazarus's voice grew to a roaring crescendo. "Get the hell out!"

Without another word Bella headed for the door. She was almost there when Lazarus regained his senses, or at least just enough of them to realize he couldn't dismiss a patient that way, especially one like Bella Windsinger.

"Wait."

Bella stopped in mid-motion; she had been reaching for the door handle.

"Come back."

Bella did as she was told. Lazarus regarded her coldly and pulled a small slip of white paper from a drawer in his desk.

"I am writing you a prescription," he said, doing his best to keep his tone even, "and recommending you to a therapist who will help you with your anger management skills, which I find sorely lacking." He pulled out another piece of paper and added perfunctorily, "I am also billing you for the cost of the plate glass window and the fish bowl."

Bella nodded slowly. "Alright."

"I don't ever want to see you in my office again."

"No problem."

"And I want you to apologize to the fish."

"But he's..."

"Dead, I know. Apologize to him anyway."

Lazarus handed her the slips of paper and, in an act of forced gentleness, turned her toward the door.

"Now you can leave."

Bella opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it without making a sound. She left.

Lazarus heaved a deep sigh and sank back into his chair. He glanced at the notebook, which lay abandoned on the floor, but didn't bother to read his notes. He had lost his temper with a patient. That was, to him, unforgivable. And yet he desperately wanted to believe that he had been in the right, that even though he had breached protocol she had done it first. That worried him.

He stood up and grabbed his jacket off a coat-rack by the door, then walked out into the hallway and stopped at his secretary's desk. "Marianne, I need you to cancel the rest of my appointments for today. I'm going to take an early lunch." He started to walk away, then turned on his heel and added, "Oh, and could you get Doctor Peterson on the phone? I'd like to make an appointment with him... for Monday, if possible."

"You already have a business meeting with him on Tuesday afternoon."

"I don't want a meeting. I want an appointment. I have become mildly concerned about my current mental state."

The secretary nodded understandingly. "Very well, sir." She had worked with him long enough to know that she shouldn't question him further.

That done, Lazarus stole out of the building. He was dismayed to see Bella standing in the center of the sidewalk, in front of a small pile of goo that he assumed to be the remains of his erstwhile pet. She focused her attention on him with a steady gaze; apparently, she'd been waiting.

"I apologized to the fish," she said.

Lazarus nodded tersely. It was, quite frankly, more than he had expected. "Good." He paused both to gather his thoughts and stamp down his temper. "Were you waiting for me?"

"No. I'm waiting for my fiancé. He's late."

"Ahh. I won't take up any more of your time, then." Lazarus walked toward what was soon to be his wife's car, muttering under his breath.

"Wait."

Lazarus turned around and arched an eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm sorry for being such an ass back there," Bella said. She actually sounded halfway genuine. "If you want, I'll buy you another..."

Lazarus interrupted her. "That won't be necessary." A new fish wouldn't solve his problems. And it had been stupid to focus so much attention on it, anyway. He hadn't cared for it particularly much, when it all came down to it. It had merely been the trigger that allowed him to express a small part of his frustration. "I'm also sorry about losing my temper. I've had a bad day."

Bella nodded understandingly. A beat-up Ford pulled up at the edge of the road and a man stuck his head out the window, waving. Bella gave Lazarus a wan smile. "Well, that's my ride."

Lazarus nodded. "Good luck with your... animal problem."

"Thanks. I'll need it."

"Don't throw any more pets out of windows."

Bella winked at him. "I told you what I thought about fish being pets, remember?" And with that parting remark, she climbed in her fiancé's car.

Lazarus smiled as the dilapidated car drove off into the distance, glad that the ordeal with Bella was over. If he was lucky, he'd never see her again. He drove home, pleased to notice that the remnants of his hangover had finally begun to dissipate. By the time he arrived at his house, he was clear-headed and almost on his way to being relaxed.

His wife was waiting for him when he walked through the front door.