This was written in reply to Nat's "Now Who's Insane" Challenge. Plenty of stereotyping and non-character development here, just plain old insanity. You have been warned. :)

When Shrinks And X-Men Collide

by Maelstrom

"Good morning, everyone. How are you all doing today?"

"Mmghn."

"Hmmlnhngrr."

"Rssumfrssum. . . grmblgrmbl. . ."

"Uh, Professor, you did say they all understood English, correct?"

"Uh, yes, Dr Fluke. I apologize, they're still a bit, uh, resentful about this whole affair."

"Oh, well, that's quite reasonable. Not everybody loves making a visit to their neighbourhood psychiatrist."

"Not everybody grins like they got their lip corners taped to the back of their ears."

"Katherine, is it? Katherine Pryde."

"My friends call me Kitty."

"All right then, may I call you Kitty?"

"No."

"Kitty!"

"Well pardon me, Professor, but this is *not* how I pictured spending my Saturday afternoon! Being cooped up in a stuffy old room that's clogged up by fake framed certificates, being interrogated by Ms Oh-Happy-Happy-Day-Sunshine here? Wasn't in my schedule, noooo."

"I believe our dear Katherine has a point, Professor. I mean, our consulting a psychiatrist is bound to acquire us some negative PR, if you get my drift. Especially the fact that we are having *group* therapy. The press will have a field day with this."

"But that's exactly the point, Hank. I've sensed a little. . . *discord* among us lately -"

"I swear that fruit blender thing was an *accident!*"

"- and so I thought seeing Dr Fluke would help bring us closer together."

"Oh yeah, sure. Close. Whatever. Pass the mints, Bobby."

"How much closer do you want us to get? I've already *seen* Betsy in the shower."

"SCOTT!"

"Oops."

"Hooboy, he's in for it now. . ."

"Oh joy, fight scene. Eventually *has* to happen with us X-Men. It's our national past-time."

"Cynical as always, Cecelia. Yes, Doctor, you may take that down in your notes."

"Thank you."

"Really, Jean, I didn't mean it *that* way. It's totally over, was in the past, really -"

"Oh sure it is, hon. I totally understand. . ."

"Ouch. That's gotta hurt."

"Oh lovely. Right against the wall. Nice dent there, Jean."

"Don't start with me, Elizabeth."

"*Sigh*. . . Now you see why I am so concerned, Dr Fluke?"

"Hmm, yes, Professor, I see your point. Everyone, settle down, settle down. Yes, let's help Scott back to his chair, shall we? Thank you."

"You know, I'm actually beginning to agree that we definitely need psychiatric help here. . ."

"Et tu, Cecilia? Oh my bleeding heart."

"Perhaps we can break the ice if we tell each other why we do not like to be in therapy. . . ?"

"Perhaps we can stop grinnin' our heads off an' addressin' us in de plural form all de time. . . ?"

"This from a guy who speaks in the third person."

"Hey! That not be fair!"

"Plus he's got bad grammar."

"Professor? If Ah may speak for th' team. . . Ah cannot believe you're actually doing this ta us!"

"Me neither! This is crazy! This is insane! This is. . . this is. . ."

"The X-Men."

"Yes! I mean, no!"

"That is *not* funny, Professor."

"But it is, Katya. The Professor has just made a joke. How often does that happen?"

"Prof, you can't be serious about us seeing this - this - HER? I mean, a shrink?"

"Yeah! Note that 'psychiatrist' is the definition for someone who listens to your problems and makes you pay for it."

"Charles, I absolutely refuse to condone this mad decision of yours. What makes you think we should. . . we should. . . go into *therapy?*"

"Ororo, please, calm down -"

"Can we save the rain for later, Storm? It is a beautiful day."

"Listen, Chuck, you want me ventin' anger and expressin' emotions, just get me near Sabretooth and I'll be expressin' more than that. Nice and sticky on the floor too."

"Put those claws away, Logan."

"And I *will* clean up the mess afterwards."

"Ick. I don't even wanna know how."

"Logan. Claws. NOW."

"Oo, pretty-pretty upworlders fighting. Can we have blood now?"

"Marrow!"

"Mr Drake. . . Robert. Since you are so vehement against the idea of therapy, perhaps you'd like to go first and tell me why the thought disturbs you so much."

"Fine. I'm a perfectly healthy guy who just happens to be a mutant, so you're naturally going to accuse me of being insecure about my powers. And my relationships. Which isn't true, of course, but you shrinks just go ahead and form your own stereotypes. Do we ever get a say in the matter? Noooooo. Plus you're also going to say that I'm repressed just 'cause I'm an accountant, but that's not true. I'm *extremely* un-repressed. Totally. Ask Warren and Rogue."

". . . Well, not when yuh're around Emma yuh're not."

"True."

"*What?*"

"Emma?"

"Emma Frost. Lingerie-wearer. He's got a thing for her."

"Ah, I see. Go on, Robert."

"Rogue, what are you talking about?"

"Well, not ta say anythin', of course, but whenever yuh're around her yuh get all uncomfortable an' stuff, shifting weight an' mumbling t' yourself. . ."

"Oh yeah, you should see him, Doc. His jaw just drops to the ground while he drools all over her. Her and those lacy undergarments she wears outdoors."

"Dis from a guy whose girlfriend wears a spandex leotard."

"Watch it, Remy."

"Well, Emma's - she's classy! And I don't want to look dumb in front of her."

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that, Bobster."

"Really, you think? Oh good. . . hey, wait a minute!"

"So, Robert, from this exchange I gather that you are uncomfortable with the fact that this 'Emma' is brimming with self-confidence and sexuality?"

"Plus the fact that she's got boobs like inflatable pillows."

"Kitty. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, shutting up now."

"And her 'classiness' makes you feel inferior and. . . repressed?"

"I am *not* repressed!"

"Heh. Don't be too sure 'bout that, mon ami. . ."

"Can we get to the blood now?"

"Marrow!"

"Ah, yes, Sarah. I understand you have a passion for violence, is that correct? A fetish for killing and gore?"

"You make it sound bad."

"Is there any. . . *specific* thing that you have a tendency to destroy?"

"Anything that moves."

"Marrow. . ."

"Hey, at least she's cooperating, Prof. Give the kid a break."

"Sarah, do you think there's any particular reason why you may feel so. . . angry at the world?"

"Aside from the fact that my entire family and kind were slaughtered in a bloody massacre, and that sharp painful bones constantly erupt from my body, and that humankind upworlders want to kill me dead dead dead? . . . Not that I can think of, pretty doctor in a suit. No."

"Y' know, we still haven't gotten to the part of Rogue and her angst yet."

"Oh no thanks, don't mind me, y'all go on right ahead. Ah'll pass on this one. Ah'm always gettin' the spotlight."

"Remy? Want to talk about Antartica?"

"Mebbe next time, docteur."

"We *could* address Jean and her five-times-dead thing."

"Oh yes, that's a start. I'm sure you must have suffered enormous traumatization because of that, haven't you, Jean?"

"Not really. You want to talk about trauma, you should taste Remy's gumbo. That should give you an idea."

"Hey!"

"Pardon me, my good friends, but if nobody else is willing to divulge any matters of interest in this highly fruitful group therapy session, may I address matters of natural concern to us all? What unites us, Dr Fluke, is the dream of fighting for the rights and equality of all mutants, so that we may live peacefully amongst one another -"

"Whoops, time's up. Same time next week, everyone?"

"I'd rather die."

"Sixth time's the charm, Jeannie?"

"How I wish."

"Uh, yes, Dr Fluke. Next week would be good."

"Wonderful! Have a nice day, Professor, and to all of you too. See all of you next week."

"We may be in Genosha next week. . ."

"Yeah, either that or the Savage Land. We haven't been there for a while."

"Oh, well, in that case, why don't you leave a message on my machine and we will fix a new appointment, all right?"

"Oh sure, Doc, we'll get back to you. Sure. . ."

End