Disclaimer: Not mine. You know it.
This takes place after Loss. Alex reflects. Enjoy!
When I was in Wisconsin, I learned two important things. The first thing is that therapists love to diagnose you with things; it makes them feel better about themselves. When I got to Wisconsin, I decided to go in for therapy, just because it was something to do. Maybe I thought it might help and maybe I was just bored out of my mind, but nevertheless, I ended up in Dr. Blaine's office once a week for a month.
First, he diagnosed me with posttraumatic stress disorder. No kidding. Getting shot and almost murdered can do that to do. Then I refused to talk about the trauma and he didn't realize it wasn't because I didn't want to – although I didn't – but because I couldn't. I wasn't allowed. And if I did, I would be in even more danger.
Then he diagnosed me with paranoia. Just because he noticed me always looking over my shoulder, making sure Velez wasn't there, following me, lurking in the shadows with a gun. Again, he was probably right, but he was frustrated when I refused to tell him why.
Next, he diagnosed me with depression. That was because he'd noticed how sad I always was, how I spent hours just staring into space. Those were the times when I was thinking about Olivia and the love we used to share.
Then he diagnosed me with multiple personality disorder. That was the biggest laugh of all. Sure, I had two distinct personalities: Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot and Emily Richards, the fictional character that I had to live as indefinitely. I just hadn't figured out how to merge the two into one person yet.
Of course, when the federal agents found out I was going to a therapist, they made me stop immediately. When I asked why, they said, "If you can't be honest in therapy, you're defeating the purpose. But if you are honest, you're putting yourself in danger." It was a lose-lose situation, so I went to Dr. Blaine and told him I'd spent the last month mimicking PTSD and paranoia and depression and MPD. And then he diagnosed me with Munchausen's Syndrome and told me I needed more help than he could give me, which was the whole point.
Within that mess of diagnoses, I discovered one more thing, something far more important. It's that I can't live without my Olivia.
I hope you enjoyed this oneshot. Review if you did!
