A/N: Alright, here it is, the Prologue of what is shaping up to be a rather large undertaking. Oh well. I'm having fun writing Mackenzie/Will, so why not keep going? This is in part born out of my love of both characters, and the little things I can't stop noticing about them and how they interact, and my love of Will's scenes with his psychiatrist. I hope you enjoy the fic. It might jump around timeline-wise, I think.

xxx

To you, my dear I wish no harm

xxx

Prologue

xxx

"How are you today, Will?" Dr. Habib asked, opening the door of his office.

Will deliberately lightened his voice as he walked into the room. "Oh you know me, Mr. Cheerful."

"I certainly know that's what you like people to believe," the doctor said as he sat down in one of the chairs.

Will sat in the other. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

Will couldn't hide the flash of annoyance. "Oh come on, don't be such a cliché."

"There's a reason things become clichés," Dr. Habib pointed out.

"And I'm no doubt your use of this one had some deep, sociological meaning meant to shine light into the deepest part of my soul," Will said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"Actually, this one barely even scratches the surface." Dr. Habib countered.

Will raised his eyebrows.

The psychiatrist leaned back in his chair. "I think you want to be cheerful," he said eventually.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"No."

Will found himself getting annoyed. Not an uncommon occurrence in his shrink's office. This was exactly why he'd stopped coming to appointments. "Oh right, everyone's different."

"Not everyone wants to be cheerful," Dr. Habib assured his companion. "Some people want to be fulfilled, or respected, or calm and contained. Some want to be fierce or threatening. Do you honestly believe that a gang member or a funeral director wants to be described as cheerful?"

Will had to concede the point there. "No."

"No."

In the ensuing silence, Will considered the point. "But you think I do?"

"I do," the younger man said with a nod. "And I think you're not, and that's why you developed this gruff, sarcastic, slightly off-putting thing you've got going on. You want to keep people away. Because then you have an excuse not to be cheerful, and you don't have to think about any of it too hard."

"Well, don't you just have all the answers," Will muttered, glancing around the room.

"Not all, but a couple of them," Dr. Habib agreed. "So what do you think?"

"What do I think?"

"It is your session."

"I think if you only have so many answers you can give me that I should get to pick the question," Will said, deciding he really didn't feel like commenting. "Since it is my session."

Dr. Habib leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands and resting his middle fingers together, just under his nose. It wasn't often that a patient, any patient, admitted that they had a specific question. With Will McAvoy, it was almost unheard of. And it meant Jack was more than happy to go with the change in the subject. "Alright," he said easily. "You pick the question then."

Will paused.

"Go on, Will," Habib encouraged gently.

Will scowled in spite of the other man's tone (or maybe because of it). "Fine oh wise and almosg-all-knowing sage, advise me. How does one go about forgiving someone?"

xxx

TBC