1.Let's play shrinks

It was just another normal night in Los Angeles. Slightly cooler than the day, but still warm, as always. The southern California weather had a strange effect on people. The stillness of it all, the permanent warmth and absence of seasons. Content people felt as if the weather matched their mood. Calm, bright and peaceful, the year-long summer did nothing but enhance their happiness. For the rest of the inhabitants of Los Angeles, though, it was another story. Feeling far from calm and relaxed, with the usual thoughts and concerns that come with life racing through their minds, it felt as if the universe was slapping them in the face with that stupid sunny weather, a constant reminder of the peacefulness that existed in the world but that somehow they didn't seem to be able to reach.

And that night, if there was a person in the city that clearly belonged to the second group, it was the woman who walked through the dark corridors of the clinic, apparently headed to no particular place, and looking like she could use a good night's sleep, or a drink, or both. It was a strange sight, really. She didn't look like the kind of woman who'd be spending a night alone at her deserted workplace. She didn't look like the kind of woman who'd be spending a night alone, period. Nothing about her looks was average, which made it hard to believe she had the regular problems average mortals have. It's funny how much we assume about people just from the way they look.

As if having the perfect figure meant you can't get hurt. As if being incredibly gorgeous meant you can't get your heart broken. As if being unbelievably sexy meant your life can't be a mess. As if. Because, on that very moment, she would do anything to be someone else. She would do anything to be one someone else in particular, actually. And, ironic as it was, that someone else had once wished she was her.

With a sigh, she turned the knob on the door leading to one of the offices in the clinic. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight in front of her. A psychiatrist's office. But that wasn't what triggered the automatic appearance of a sarcastic comment in her head. No, it wasn't the fact that she was a middle-aged woman walking into a psychiatrist's office. That was just the normal thing in Los Angeles anyway. It was the fact that it was 2 a.m, that the psychiatrist was nowhere to be seen, and that she was about to walk inside, lay on that couch and pretend she was actually talking to someone that could help. She was the epitome of pathetic, and she could barely believe it was her doing this.

Laying on the comfortable couch, feet dangling over one end while her head rested on one of the cushions, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was doing this. She was actually going to talk about herself, for the first time since she could remember. It was a step, right? She was going to talk. Maybe it would help. Maybe. She opened her mouth and words started pouring out. Tentatively at first, she talked about meaningless things. How she doesn't like the color of her bedroom's walls. How she's finally bought new sheets, and she's still not used to them. She knows she's blatantly ignoring the huge shiny elephant in the room, but she's getting there.

She didn't know she wasn't the only person who thought spending the night in an empty office was a good idea. If she did, she'd have stopped talking. But she didn't know. She was still talking when the door opened slowly and silently, not wanting to disturb her. She was still walking in circles around the ignored elephant. "I know it's stupid, but I've changed my perfume. It's different. Fresher. I like it, but sometimes it still feels as if my clothes smell like someone else. I kinda miss my old perfume. I loved my old perfume, you know, I really loved it." With that, she closed her eyes again and took another deep breath. The elephant was jumping up and down calling for her attention. Maybe it was time to acknowledge its presence. Maybe she would have looked at it if she hadn't been interrupted.

"For the record, I like the new perfume. Not that I know how the old one smelled, anyway." She sat up, startled, and looked at the door. "What are you doing here?" She sounded madder than she was. "I work here. What are you doing here?" "I work here." There was an understanding between them, and there were now two elephants in the room, which made breathing a bit harder than before. Or maybe it wasn't the elephants' fault, and there was just tension in the air. But admitting that would invite a third huge animal into the room, and it was crowded enough as it was.

Neither of them spoke as they looked at each other. They'd seen each other hundreds of times before, and yet they felt as if they were doing it for the first time. Maybe the fact that they weren't being doctors had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the lack of flirting. Or the mere thought of being in a psychiatrist's office. Maybe they were trying to look past each other's exteriors for the first time. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse not to talk. Yeah, that was it. It was just an excuse. That was all. He closed the door on the third elephant's face and walked inside.

"So, you can't sleep either?" He was now sitting on the chair next to the couch, and, for a change, there was no cockiness in his voice. She didn't answer his question, partly because it was obvious, partly because she didn't feel like talking at the moment. He tried again, trying to make her talk so he could stop focusing on looking at her. "What's wrong?" His half-sincere question earnt him a cocked eyebrow and a hint of a death glare. If only he didn't find her even sexier when she did that. He stood up and laid on the floor, looking at the ceiling. Maybe if he didn't look at her he could stop thinking the kind of things that made him have trouble sleeping in the first place.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was as cold as it could be considering she was having some not so good thoughts herself. "I'm laying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, pretending there's an actual therapist here." He felt her sarcastic remark before she could even open her mouth to voice it, and he decided not to let her get away with it. "What? Did you think you were the only insane doctor in this clinic?" She half-smiled against her will. The man was a charmer, she had to give him that. His voice brought her back to reality, and she pushed her thoughts aside. "Maybe I should change my haircut. I feel like I need a change. I'm scared though. Of the change, I mean. What if it's for the worst?" She stared at him in disbelief. Was he mocking her? But his eyes were closed, and he looked serious. Okay, she could listen. Talking was what she was not so good at. Laying back down on the couch, she let him go on.

"I know it's stupid, it's just a haircut, hair grows back. But still. I like my hair the way it is. But maybe it'd look great if I change it. Maybe the change would be for the best." She was smiling at the ceiling, amused at the apparent struggle he was having over a simple haircut. "Your turn." Was he talking to her? "Addison. Your turn." Shit. "I... think your hair looks nice?" "Nice try" he said "but you know what I meant. My turn to be the shrink." "Fine." She sighed before going on. "I can't put on my favorite shoes."

He looked slightly confused, but he let her go on. "I mean, I could put them on. My feet aren't bigger than they were back in... my feet aren't bigger." Oh, so that was it. You-know-where. "I love those shoes. But I can't wear them anymore. It's unfair, really. They are my favorite shoes! And now I can't even look at them." What was wrong with the shoes? Maybe if he knew more about her, he could figure it out. But she was virtually a stranger. "You know, I almost chose different shoes. I wish I had. But those looked great with my dress. And it was supposed to be a great night, so I wanted to look great for... I wanted to look great." And you-know-who. Something bad happened with you-know-who in you-know-where when she was wearing her favorite shoes.

"What did he do?" She wasn't expecting such a direct question. She wasn't expecting him to be listening. Maybe the surprise factor was what made her answer without giving it a second thought. "He screwed his intern." Well, he couldn't really blame her for not wearing the shoes anymore, could he? "And he put her panties in his pocket." No, he definitely couldn't blame her.

A/N: More chapters to come soon! Please R&R, this is my first fic, so constructive criticism will help me learn and improve :)