Suspended from duty, Callida spent the next week or so wandering aimlessly about the Lion General estate and playing with her sons between many hours of sleep born into the unholy union of boredom with a mind in turmoil. With little choice but to cooperate with Verum’s orders, she’d sent for Monitor Fastidium and was surprised to learn that he was not, in fact, a monitor in the palace base hospital but had merely accepted a temporary consultation assignment on her behalf at the request of her predecessor however many years ago now. The uselessness she felt and lack of productive outlets only served to further batter her soul, so the afternoon that Rogue woke her to tell her there was a Monitor Fastidium waiting for her in the front parlor, Callida actually felt relieved.

Monitor Fastidium stood holding a leather bag in one hand, his other hand resting comfortably in the pocket of his pants. He had aged disproportionately to the amount of time that had passed since she’d last seen him. The kindly crinkles around his eyes had deepened into defined valleys, his blonde hair had turned silver all at once, and his trim frame had grown a little round. He smiled when she walked in, his eyes quickly taking in her own appearance. She’d likely changed a lot too, and Callida was suddenly self conscious about her tangled hair falling unkempt down the back of a sleep-wrinkled shirt.

“Well, Callida, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise at receiving an invitation from you of all people,” he teased, “but it is good to see you again.” She nodded mutely, unsure of how to start such an awkward conversation and choosing to instead leave that burden to him. “I met your husband briefly. It’s good to see that you were able to move on with someone new.”

“Not someone new.”

“No? But, I thought the one you didn’t want to talk about was dead.”

“At the time, I thought he was,” Callida nodded again, and the monitor smiled pleasantly.

“It would seem that we have a great deal to catch up on. Where would you like to talk?”

Ah. The where-would-you-like-to-sit test. Callida smiled. “I have an office upstairs. It’s quiet and private.” Fastidium nodded and gestured for her to lead the way, following her brisk pace into the foyer, back up the stairs, to the right, and down the hallway. Callida invited her guest to take a seat and then busied herself setting a fire in the hearth to combat the late autumn chill. She then took her own seat, comfortably curling up in the corner of a couch with her legs tucked partially beneath her. Only then did Fastidium take a seat of his own — a tall, wingback chair across from her — with a decompressing sigh.

“Would you indulge me in a brief follow-up from our last session before we jump into your reason for summoning me?”

Callida smiled at the question and nodded. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for one, I’d like to hear the answers to the questions you refused to answer,” he chuckled. “You were, hands down, the most uncooperative patient of my career. It probably didn’t help that counseling wasn’t your idea then.”

“It still isn’t. His Majesty suspended me to force my hand.”

At that, Fastidium laughed heartily, slapping his knee. “Just like old times!” Callida couldn’t help but grin back, despite also rolling her eyes. “So tell me, how did things work out with the dead man, and why didn’t you want to talk about it back then.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk about it,” Callida said with a sobering sigh. “I couldn’t. He was a member of the Resistance.”

“A bandit?” Fastidium’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Mn,” Callida confirmed.

“You were protecting yourself from accusations of disloyalty?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure anymore, but at the time, I didn’t feel like I could share.”

“I see. And you weren’t simply being stubbornly uncooperative?”

“Well,” Callida snorted, “there was probably some of that too.”

“And you’ve worked things out with His Majesty, I presume.”

“Yes. We’re both married to different people, we have a good working relationship now, and we managed to salvage our friendship.”

“That’s quite a feat! How did that happen?”

“Uh… well, I threatened to castrate him if he didn’t screw his head back on straight.”

“Oh.” Callida smirked at the look of uneasy shock on the monitor’s face. “Well, I can certainly see how that would be effective.” He cleared his throat and reached into his leather bag, withdrawing a large diary, a pen, and portable inkwell to set on the side table next to his chair. “So tell me, why are you being subjected to compulsory therapy this time?”

Callida took a deep breath, lightly buzzing her lips on the exhale, before admitting “because I actually need it.”

His eyes snapped up to hers from where he was scribbling something in the diary. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

She maintained earnest eye contact. “I need your help, Monitor.”

Fastidium sat up a little straighter in his chair for that comment. “In that case, let’s get to it then, shall we?” She smiled weakly, and the Monitor took a moment to think, tapping his pen against his nose as he did so, before continuing. “Perhaps you’d better start. Tell me why you need help….”

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***

“You keep coming back to this prophecy thing, Callida. You’ve listed off a lot of past traumas, and we’ve unpacked several of them, but you keep circling back to the prophecy. Why?” Fastidium asked mid-way through their third session, pen still tapping slowly against the tip of his nose.

“I guess, maybe it’s the most recent? But it’s also the most relevant, and this one… feels different… somehow.”

“In what way does it feel different?”

Callida frowned as she struggled to articulate it. “I feel so helpless — like there’s nothing I can do to protect myself from it. I don’t even understand what I’m defending against! And it feels violating in a deeper way, like I’m being coerced into this on a spiritual level, and there’s no way to truly fight back on that level.”

“We’ve discussed to some extent your experiences in the Griffin Tribe temple. Is that what you mean when you say you feel violated on a spiritual level?”

“I think that’s part of it. That wasn’t the first time I’ve been forced into a connection with a spiritualist, but it was definitely the worst. It’s more than that, though. Since that incident, there have been others, though they have been less noteworthy. Spiritualists have connected with me, mostly with reluctant permission, but they all seem to find something within me that connects me to this prophecy.”

“And you don’t like being connected to the prophecy.”

“Not at all. It really bothers me, like, it cannot be understated how much it disturbs me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Fastidium slouched back into his seat, his tapping pen dropping to the armrest. “Callida, I wonder if this might not be the root of your panic attacks. You like being in control, and I could see how being the subject of a prophecy might feel like that control has been stripped away from you.”

A sharp, twinging sensation lancing through her chest suggested that Fastidium was on the right track. “How would a prophecy strip away my control?”

“Well, it might be a little unnerving to think that someone predicted your life before you even existed, and now it might feel as though you are caught in a rut forcing you to follow the path they laid out for you.”

“But I don’t even know what’s in the prophecy!”

“Couldn’t that be part of the problem? You’ve been connected to this ‘prediction’ that other people seem to know a lot about and that, theoretically, spells out the course or purpose or even nature of your life. You might be feeling strung along to be caught on this path that everyone but you can see. These people probably have ideas and expectations for what you should do and be because of this prediction, and I’m sure that's also overwhelming and uncomfortable.” He paused, giving her space to confirm, deny, or otherwise comment, but she remained frozen in silence. “Hm. It’s only a theory until you tell me otherwise. Do you think that might be at least a part of what you are feeling?” A bit numb, Callida nodded. “Alright. Then the question becomes, what are we going to do about that?” Choking back tears, she could only shake her head in reply. “Hm. I think maybe that should be your homework tonight. Let's both give this some thought and take a break for today. Same time tomorrow?” Another nod. “Oh! Before I forget, I’m prepared to clear you for duty, but on the condition that we continue our sessions for the time being. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

***

The note Monitor Fastidium had given her to clear her for duty was received with skepticism. “This isn’t forged, is it?” Verum asked with a single raised eyebrow.

Already in uniform and standing at attention in his study, Callida huffed. “Primordials, Verum! I’m not that bad of a patient.”

“Um, yes, you are. Tell me honestly, is this a forgery?”

“No, of course not!”

“No lies, no hidden meanings?”

Callida pinched the bridge of her nose in her exasperation. “Unbelievable.”

“Answer the question, Callida.”

“No lies, no hidden meanings,” she deadpanned.

Verum stood up from his desk and smacked Callida’s arm playfully with Fastidium’s letter, a broad smile revealing dazzling teeth. “Welcome back, General.”

“Gee, thanks.”

With that taken care of, Verum’s winning smile faded a bit. “There’s a lot that I need to catch you up on.”

“It’s been two weeks. I figured there’d be a bit of catch up. How much is a lot?” Verum winced in reply. “Oh, crap, what did you do?!” Callida whined.

“Nothing!” Verum huffed back. “Primordials, Callida, I’m not incompetent! It’s actually related to your Guardian friends, so if anyone is to blame, it’s you!” Hit by an abrupt wash of anxiety, Callida spaced out from the conversation momentarily. “... You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘you’re welcome’.

“What… what am I welcome for?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“I….” She trailed off, and Verum, who was rifling through a stack of documents, paused and looked up.

“Whoa. Callida, are you alright?”

“Sorry. I… blanked. Could you repeat that?”

Verum stepped closer, scrutinizing her face, his own stern. “Are you sure you’re ready to come back to work? You still seem off your game.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You clearly are not fine. I think you might need to go back to counseling.”

“The counseling is ongoing,” Callida countered.

“You’re still seeing Monitor Fasti-something?”

“Daily.”

“Whoa. Like, actually?!”

“Yes, Verum. Like, actually actually.”

“Oh. Well, is it helping?”

“Maybe? I hope so. Have you ever been in counseling, Verum?”

“Me? No. What’s it like?”

“Imagine paying someone to listen to you talk about yourself and ask you lots of questions and then talk about what you said for an hour or two. It’s… yeah, it’s weird. And at this point, the monitor knows secrets about me that I didn’t even know I had.”

“Huh. Yeah, I can see why you would struggle with that,” Verum said thoughtfully and then sniggered. “I can’t even imagine you talking about yourself for more than thirty seconds in one go. You said you do that for an hour or two with this guy? Daily?!”

“Yeah?” Callida’s arms crossed challengingly in front of her.

“I’m just impressed that someone can get you to talk for that long. The man deserves a medal or something,” he teased, flashing a boyish grin at her.

Callida rolled her eyes at him, her mood falling as she retraced how they’d gotten on the topic of her therapy sessions. “Verum, what were you saying about the Guardians?”

“Ah.” He too sobered. “Well, they’re back. And this time they brought company.”