Margo knocked at the door of Carl's apartment, still shivering in her soaked, ice-cold clothes as she waited out in the hallway. She was as pale as a corpse, her arms wrapped around herself in a crude attempt to warm herself up. Her feet ached of frostbite and they felt as if they were lodged in two wet sponges. The only things feeling worse than her feet were her bare legs, which endured the ironic sensation of burning as a result of having to walk through a blizzard in sleepwear.

She briefly opened up her coat to check on her Fatemaker, nudged in a secret pocket in case she had been followed.

The door opened up and Carl peeked his head out. He wore tiny glasses with lens that barely stretched over his eyes, and the LED ring on his finger glowed a bright red. The expression on his face was something Margo had never seen before, at least not while Carl was in control. As if the red light wasn't further proof Catalina was the one welcoming her into the apartment.

"Margo!" Catalina exclaimed in Carl's voice at her characteristic pitch. "¿Que diablos? Why are you dressed like that in weather like this?"

"S-S-Someone broke into my home, Catty," Margo explained quickly. "I had to get out as soon as I could."

"Well, get in here before you freeze. I'll alert the authorities while you go ahead and shower."

Margo walked in, the door shutting behind her. "Thanks a lot, Catty, but it's alright. I'm just cold. Plus, I'm not sure if you have any spare clothes for me."

"Don't worry. I still have plenty of your old clothes from when you used to spend the night when you were younger. And I don't want you getting sick and then getting your mom sick and then me sick!"

Margo chuckled, following Catalina over to the bathroom in her guest bedroom. "It's not like anyone ever gets someone else sick intentionally, y'know," she replied. "And I'm not sure if those old clothes still fit."

"No, I'm pretty sure they still fit. You've been the same height since you graduated high school. No growth whatsoever. However, your butt seems a little bigger—"

"Catty!" Margo yelped before slapping her on the shoulder as they entered the bedroom, the old lady laughing hysterically. "That might've hurt less if that wasn't coming out of Carl's mouth," Margo added, trying not to laugh herself.

"No te creas, mija. If I ever caught Carl saying something like that, I'd kick his ass."

Margo walked into the bathroom but not before turning back to look at Catalina. "So you'd be kicking your own ass then?" she added with a goofy smirk.

Catalina placed her hand on the doorway and stared at her guest, secretly loving her smart-ass attitude and the woman she had watched her grow up to be while hiding all those feelings behind a forced grin. "¡Ándale! Get in the shower!" she hissed.

And the last thing she heard before slamming the bathroom door shut was Margo's adorable laugh, something both of them needed to hear that evening.

* * *

The sight of Catalina at the front door had given Margo some hope after everything that happened that evening, but a part of her still felt cold and alone, almost as if she was still back in her bed with the splint around her arm and her eyes refusing to shut. The feeling of the cold rush of wind blasting through her apartment was replicated through the freezing water crashing against her skin. Much like the incident itself, she was too hesitant to do anything about it.

Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and walked into the guest bedroom. A queen-sized bed sat in the corner of the room beside a window, the ashy snowstorm in perfect view. On the other side of the room was a drawer with multiple pictures of Carl and his family lining the top. They were always portraying the same thing: Carl, his father, his younger sister Melanie, and an empty space where his mother had been trimmed out of the photo. Margo had never met her before, but after the way Carl spoke of her, she hoped she never would.

On the bed were a pair of flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt with the words KEEP TALKING, I'M DIAGNOSING YOU written across. She let out a brief laugh at the sight of that shirt. She hadn't worn that since her junior year of high school, when she admittedly didn't take her dream of joining Psychwatch very seriously like many others around her age. It was always the same with teens back then. They would always either self-diagnose themselves for the littlest things and try to become part of Psychwatch to justify it, or they would speak out against the organization completely. Their sole motivation was how their peers would perceive them. But thanks to Carl and the fact Psychwatch was new and bathed in significantly less controversy when she was younger, her loyalty to the organization was built on the healthy foundation of bettering her future as well as that of the people she cared most about.

Unfortunately for her, everything her colleagues told her that evening left a crack in that foundation.

The clothes were a little snug as Margo put them on, but they were still more comfortable than her previous clothes drenched in snow and soot. She strolled out of the guest bedroom toward Carl's living room. Much like her own home, the furniture and style was modern and sleek, the items affordable thanks to their well-paying jobs. A MoodMatcher sat on the kitchen counter playing Erik Satie's "Gymnopédie No. 1", one of Margo's all-time favorite piano pieces. However, the one thing she loved most about Carl's home were the three paintings representing himself and his alters, all of which he created himself with a Psych Expressor when he used to attend Cognitive Crafts sessions.

The first picture was of himself. Carl Maslow, thirty-five years old at the time of the painting's creation in 2030, a year after he'd joined Psychwatch. His face was completely devoid of the scruffy facial hair he had in the present, instead reduced to a goatee, but he was still a handsome man. He had slick black hair and his trademark grin, and his green eyes radiated beautifully like emeralds as he posed confidently in a suit. The next persona in the spotlight was Catalina, a woman of Mexican descent who refused to reveal her age, claiming she'd be around as long as Carl needed her. She was absolutely beautiful. Tan skin, lovely brown hair tied back in Dutch braids, those same small glasses resting above her nose, and hardly a wrinkle on her face, all topped off by a small yet amiable smile as she twirled around in a light green dress. His final alter, Vince, didn't care about letting others know who he was. His likeness was represented by a man sitting in the dark on a wooden stool, not a single part of his face visible, and the brightest colors in the picture were only the dimmest shades of gray making up his skin. He was also the only alter who didn't sign their name at the corner of their picture in their own distinct handwriting.

Still in control of Carl's body, Catalina sat at the kitchen counter drinking hot chocolate, a mug set aside for her guest. She calmly swayed her head back and forth to the lovely music filling her ears.

"I love this song so much," Margo sighed as she approached the kitchen counter. "One of those kinds of songs that just makes you feel things. Nostalgia, comfort, like just taking time to enjoy the little things."

"Brings back memories," Catalina replied, taking a sip of her cocoa. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen you wear that since your date with that boy back in high school. What was his name again?"

"Kyle?"

"¡Si! Kyle! He was an idiot. Probably the dumbest kid I've ever met in my life. The kind of kid who'd walk into the same glass door twice."

Margo burst out laughing. "He wasn't that dumb, Catty. He made it into the Top 10 of the class."

"And you were in the Top 3, mija! And between the two of you, you're the one with personality and manners. I'll still never forgive him for what the two of you did in Carl's car." She paused to gasp melodramatically. "That was the day my little Margo's innocence died."

Margo clenched her teeth, cringing at the memories as she nervously tried to laugh it off. "Hey, teenagers are weird like that!" she said. "That's why you can't just leave them alone. Plus, I thought a city tour in a self-driving car would be cute for a date. Y'know, like a river cruise in Paris. But then we kept teasing each other and one thing led to another..."

"And of course the culero left you the following day," Catalina scoffed before taking another sip of her drink. "People nowadays. Always trying to find pleasure, never taking responsibility."

"You said it," Margo declared exhaustedly. She took another gulp of her hot chocolate, a comforting wave of warmth rippling through her body as it poured down her throat. "Speaking of which...I should probably let the police know what happened."

"No need. Like I said, I called them while you were showering. They said they could hardly find anything in there. The windows and furniture were fine. They found a few marks on the floor, but they were just from you when you were crawling toward the door. And I know this is a bad time to mention, but they also say you're gonna have to pay for the holes you burnt in the walls with your Fatemaker."

Margo raised an eyebrow, stricken with disbelief. "But I heard them break my win—" She cut herself off, suddenly aware of one complication. "Damn it, those were RG windows. The glass fixed itself, and the shards on the floor have probably disintegrated into dust by now."

"The intruder didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, I'm fine." Margo glanced down at her splint. "Just have this to worry about. Pretty much healed. In fact, most of what's hurting me is on the inside."

Catalina took one large swig of her drink, completely cleaning the mug of the remaining hot cocoa. "Well I may not be the qualified Empath here," she said, "but I'm always here for you, dear. What's on your mind?"

Margo flashed a small, disheartened grin as she prepared to open the floodgates. She grew more tense once she realized the music had stopped, and she could hear the snow pelting the windows loud and clearly. Following one long exhale, she poured everything out. "I don't know who they were, but they seemed to know very well who I was. They kept trying to get in my head, taking advantage of the fact I couldn't see them."

"What were they doing?"

"He kept talking about how we were trying to put him in his place, how we're not letting him show his true potential. And by 'we', I'm pretty sure he means Psychwatch since he mentioned something about the people I've been associating myself with. He also said I was keeping secrets, but I'm not sure if he meant from him or from myself or someone else."

"Did he say anything else?"

"No. He just tried to attack me after that. I made it out before he could do anything." Margo paused. "What the hell was all of that about?"

"¿Quien sabe? Probably another lunatic off his meds. Hopefully not one of those masked men you and the others have been talking about."

"And speaking of secrets, I was just on the phone with Commissioner Mason in the car, and out of the blue, she says I've been keeping secrets from myself. That if those secrets were revealed, I'd go insane. And she also said that's why I was afraid of the intruder! Because apparently, not wanting to die isn't a rational excuse."

Catalina cleared her throat, Carl's original voice revealing itself for a moment. "Well...are you keeping secrets from yourself?"

"I...I don't think so. I don't know how I could. I'm not the kind of person who likes keeping secrets. The longer I keep them, the more it hurts when they eventually come to light."

Catalina nodded her head. "Good point."

Margo glanced down at her mug. "Do you have any secrets, Catty?" she asked suspiciously.

"Margo, dear, I'm just like you. I don't like keeping secrets. It hurts to keep them and hurts more to see their effects on people when they're revealed too late. So I can assure you. I don't keep anything from you nor will I ever." She paused, tension building once she noticed Margo flashing her a piercing gaze. "And if I do, we can both use Erase-and-Replace to forget about it," she joked.

Margo laughed. "I hate to tell you, Catty, but Psychwatch doesn't do that anymore. But that's alright. I know I can trust you." Her smile slowly vanished as another thought entered her head. "What about Carl? Do you think he keeps secrets from us?"

Catalina nervously rose from her seat at the counter. She looked down at her hand as it lay flat on the counter in front of her, glaring at the red light on her ring the way a lost sailor would toward a lighthouse miles away. "I'm sure you've heard him say this before," she explained, "but Carl constantly reminds me that telling people what they need to hear is one of the most important parts of his job. So I'm sure he'd never tell you anything that would hurt you."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Especially because I'm the reason he does that!" Catalina laughed. But her laughter faded out quickly as she slowly descended back onto her chair. "He actually believes that if it weren't for me, he and his sister never would've learned what it's like to have a mother who cares for them. Even with such a kind and loving father as theirs, their mother...no one should ever have to deal with someone like her."

Margo's heart sunk, and she could see that Catalina's was doing the same. "Poor Melanie," Catalina continued softly, nearly on the verge of tears. "Thin as a corpse for such a long time, yet she went years thinking she was an imperfect, overweight embarrassment. All because of the words of one horrible woman. And Carl...dear God. I can't even tell you, Margo, how many times we'd wake up in the hospital together."

Catalina covered her face with her hands, slumping forward as the terrors of the past rushed over her like roaring water. Margo's mouth gaped open. Stories like these were frighteningly common in her world, but she swore never to grow numb to the horrors of mankind. She was an Empath. She existed to remind people of the value of human life, and she couldn't become desensitized like so many other people.

"He..." Catalina choked on her words, sniffling, "he always asked why his mother would do this to him. He asked his sister. His father. The nurses. Me. But what were we supposed to tell him? How were we supposed to tell him his own mom doesn't love him?"

Margo leaped from her chair and ran over to the other side of the counter, throwing her arms around Catalina as tears streamed down both of their faces. She pulled her friend closer to her and held her tightly, much like how she and Carl had done dozens of times for her before. "You're an amazing person, Catty," Margo told her warmly. "You and Carl."

"I was born from pain, Margo. Someone else's pain. How can I be described as a person? I'm just a part. An alter."

"We're all parts, Catty. You know why? Because we complete each other. You, me, Carl, my mom, Psychwatch, we're all here for each other. Right?"

Catalina didn't respond. The two stayed quiet, still wrapped in each other's arms. Margo felt like she said the wrong thing, finding it unexpectedly difficult to believe what she said about Psychwatch. "Right?" she repeated nervously.

Several seconds passed and Catalina remained as still as a statue. Her arms lazily slid down Margo's back until she let go and sat back into her seat. She took off her glasses and placed them beside her on the counter before switching the color on her LED ring to blue.

"Hello, Margo," Carl greeted with a smile, wiping the tears off his face. "Was Catalina upset?"

"We were just talking," Margo replied with an awkward grin. "We both got a little emotional. She cares about you very much, y'know."

"And you!" Carl laughed. "Even though she came into my life once Holden was born, she's always prioritized you. Unlike me, you were already pretty good at forming relationships and making people feel comfortable. She loved those qualities since she saw elements of herself in you."

"What do you mean? You're very approachable, too."

"Honey, I was born in '95 when a person like me would be a slasher movie villain. And I didn't even tell you about the really weird alters I used to have. Granted, none of them weren't potentially dangerous like Vince, but I ended up in the girls' locker room at my high school with a face full of makeup thanks to one of them."

Margo winced, trying not imagine a teenage Carl Maslow wearing lipstick. "That was one of the dead alters, right?" she asked.

Carl cleared his throat and replied sheepishly, "We prefer the term 'dormant'."

"Oops! Sorry. Dormant. Wherever they are, I hope they're doing well."

The two of them chuckled awkwardly before standing around the kitchen in silence. Eventually, Carl continued. "You doing okay, kiddo?" he asked. "You and Catty?"

"Yeah," Margo sighed tiredly, tugging on her shirt sleeve. "I think I got everything out."

"What were you two talking about?"

Margo hesitated to respond. She knew he was an understanding guy, but she didn't know how much she'd be able to trust him after seeing his reactions. If Catalina was right about him keeping secrets, even if it was to prevent hurting her, she'd never stop thinking about what he was keeping hidden. "We we're just talking about trust," she explained. "Neither of us really like keeping secrets since they make us feel guilty. You know how valuable trust is, especially between patients and therapists. Right?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," Carl nodded. "There's nothing more important than trust, Margo. It helps you build relationships. It puts you in the right direction. You're only ever truly alone if you don't have trust."

"Yeah." Margo paused, relieved Carl wasn't acting shifty but still convinced there was a lot more he wasn't saying. "Would you consider the other Psychwatch officers to be kind, empathic people?"

"Of course! No way in hell they'd be allowed to work there otherwise. And the only exceptions would be officers who earned their positions through redemption therapy, but they always end up rediscovering their emotions and the value of human life anyway."

Margo stayed quiet once again. The things he said didn't justify her colleagues' abrasive responses to her request for backup earlier. Especially what Mason said. This is a city of wild animals, and we're here to cage them, she told Margo. Completely devoid of sympathy and mercy. Not the relationship between a doctor and their patient, but rather a crusader ruthlessly hunting for a perfect world.

"It's about what the other doctor-cops said earlier, isn't it?" Carl said, reading her mind without even needing his ThoughtControl piece. "I wasn't there to hear what they said, but I guarantee none of them meant it. Those masked sons of bitches just have them all on edge. It might be hard to believe, but they're all scared. They don't want innocent people getting hurt, so they want to be as vigilant as possible, even if it means being more stoic and less...approachable."

Margo nodded her head, looking down at the floor as she felt like a fool again. "I understand," she croaked.