The street stretched in the middle of old houses and recent buildings. Cars and people were going from one place to another. No one seemed to care about anything. It was just a regular day.

Beca's eyelids were already heavy when she decided to turn off her computer. She shook her head from one side to the other, waiting to hear a click on her neck. It was one of her greatest pleasures at the end of a day's work. There was just one thing better than that: taking off her heels and tuck them into her backpack. She got up quickly and turned off the office light, locking the door in a move she could do with her eyes closed. After coming down the stairs, finally reaching the street, she rubbed her eyes for a few seconds as she tried to breathe in some fresh air. She coughed when an old man passed by smoking a cigarette.

As she got home, she greeted one of her neighbours and went to the mailbox. New bills to pay. "Fucking awesome", she thought. It was almost as exciting as sticking a needle into her pinky finger. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the 3rd floor.

An hour later she was already in front of the tv with a plate of food on the coffee table. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but it was the house specialty: mac and cheese. She was watching the news when her phone came to life.

"Hello? Hi dad. Yeah, I'm alright. I'm having dinner right now. The usual. No dad, I didn't schedule anything yet, I've been kinda of busy. I'll do it eventually, don't worry so much. Okay. Bye."

She had completely forgotten to look for the psychologist's name. Another useless way to spend money she didn't have. However, as she looked at the box of pills laying on the table, Beca couldn't help wondering how good it would feel not to be stuck with them. One in the morning and another one at night to calm down her anxiety.

Beca's dad had given her a list of many psychologists. She thought about choosing someone randomly. The mere fact that she had to choose one of them already made her anxious. She looked at the time and noticed that it was past eight o'clock. She would make the call tomorrow.

Eight am. Still to early to call one of the psychologists. Maybe her anxiety could be temporary. During the day there was no problem; she was busy with other people. It seemed normal. It was only at night, alone in her tiny apartment, that Beca despaired. If she had a boyfriend, maybe it would all be easier. Doing it seemed almost as bad as going to the doctor and asking him to increase the dose of anxiolytics. It wasn't a good solution. In fact, it wasn't a solution at all because it wouldn't solve anything.

It was time for Beca's lunch break. She went down the stairs and as soon as she reached the street, Beca entered a small restaurant further ahead. She asked for a meal and ate it quickly. After getting some coffee into her system, she checked her phone for new emails. In addition to a paper with the name of all the psychologists, her dad had sent her the list by email with the message: "since you're always stuck on the computer and you never know where you put your papers, here's the list. No excuses, Beca. " She picked one of the numbers at random and dialed it.

"Hello? I'm calling to schedule an appointment with Dr. Beale."

"Okay, when are you free?"

"As soon as possible. I'm working 'til six, could we schedule it for 6.30pm?"

"Of course, do you know how to get here?"

"Yeah, I've got the adress. I'll leave work earlier just in case."

"Okay. See you later then".

"Thank you."

Knowing that she had the appointment at the end of the day made time go by slowly. The calls were more annoying, lots of unfriendly clients... Five minutes before six o'clock, she left work and made her way to the psychologist's office. Reaching the building, Beca found the door open. She entered a small room with a few plants scattered across several pots, an open window and no reception desk.

At 6:30 sharp, one of the oak doors opened and a woman came into the room. She had red hair, really blue eyes, and a mysterious smile on her lightly painted lips. She was wearing a tight pencil skirt that stretched to her knees and a blue tank top. She approached Beca.

"I assume you're here for my 6.30 appointment. I was having lunching when you called and I completely forgot to ask your name. I'm really sorry." her voice was smooth. Beca got a little distracted and took some time to answer.

"Sorry, I should've guessed you'd be having lunch. I'm Beca Mitchell." Beca held out her hand and the woman shook it.

"I'm Chloe Beale." said the woman, with a smile.

"Nice to meet you, doc."

"Likewise. Shall we start?" Beca nodded and followed the doctor. She was expecting something different. She had imagined an armchair and a couch. The office looked like a living room. It was cozy. It had two armchairs and a three-seater sofa. There were bookshelves around them full of books: "Pride and Prejudice," "Little Women," and, to her surprise, the entire Harry Potter collection. While Beca was studying the room, the doctor had already entered and was sitting in one of the armchairs.

"Er... Where should I sit?" asked Beca.

"Wherever you want".

"Aren't you going to write something in a notepad?" the patient inquired again, remembering all the psychology questions she had seen in movies.

"Should I?" asked the doctor frowning.

"I don't know, isn't that what psychologists do?"

"That depends. But don't worry about it. You don't have to analyze me, I'll do it, supposedly."

"Yeah, sure. So… How does this work?" Beca asked in an attempt to start as fast as she could.

"I want you to start by telling me a little about yourself. Whatever you want to tell me". The doctor was smiling again.

"Okay. Like I told you, I'm Beca. I'm 28. I work as an assistant in a Call Center. I have a degree in Music. I have a cat and I live alone with him. I would like to get a new job related to the course I took. I would like to travel more..."

"Why aren't you doing exactly what you want?"

"Because nothing is so linear. Dreams often don't come true because they bump into reality." Beca said with a shrug.

"Can't you change that reality?"

"Maybe, I guess I'm scared of leaving everything behind. But that's not the reason why I'm here…" Beca got interrupted again.

"I know it sounds weird, but what I am asking you is important. I can' help you if I don't know anything about you." said Chloe, simply.

"Yeah, I suppose that's true. Well, I don't like my job, but it's safe. I can pay the bills. On the other hand, I rarely have time for other things. I'm usually so tired that I can't sleep or make new mixes."

"You mix music?"

"Yeah, I've been doing it since I was seventeen."

"What's so interesting about it?"

"What can I say? Music makes me feel better" said the young woman.

"It's a really good way to express your emotions, to tell things you wouldn't say otherwise, right?"

"Exactly. You like music?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Of course!" said Chloe with a smile.

"Good to know I'm not that crazy".

"What is your idea of crazy?"

"I don't know" said Beca. "Being different from the rest? Not fitting into the normality of everyday life and things? I don't know."

"What is your normality?"

"Getting up, eating breakfast, running to work, sitting in front of the computer, talking to people I don't know about things I don't care about, going to lunch, getting back to work, talking to more people I don't know, leaving work, going home, taking a shower, having some dinner, feeding the cat and going to sleep. Rinse and repeat." she said, rolling her eyes.

"And have you done all of this lately?"

"Yep."

"What happened in between that made you come here?"

"There are some more things that have been part of this routine for some time now."

"Tell me about it"

"My doctor told me I have anxiety. I thought he was crazy because it's normal for people to have anxiety. Apparently I have anxiety attacks, for no apparent reason. I take some pills and I try to distract myself."

"But it's not working, right?"

"It's not working. When I'm alone my head gets filled with useless things and I can't do anything else."

"What useless things?"

"Fear."

"If anxiety is normal in anyone's life, so is fear."

"Yeah, it's normal. But thinking too much about these things… That can't be normal."

"Keep going" Chloe was still not taking any notes. She kept looking at Beca, encouraging her to keep talking.

"I'm always thinking about the end of things."

"Death, I presume?"

"Yes. I can't explain it well."

"And when did these thoughts begin?"

"Reading the newspaper, reading terrible news and thinking about how it's possible to do certain things and how everything seems not to have a purpose, a reason ... I don't know. It seems like everything happens too soon and I'm afraid it happens to me. It's selfish of me, I know ..."

"Selfishness in life is also necessary. I don't think you're being selfish. I see that you are concerned with the facts. Knowledge. It's important to you. Understanding why things happen. Like you said, things aren't so linear. People devalue their experience too much and forget that knowledge, books, studies, whatever they want to call them, exist only because someone has experienced them."

"We shouldn't try everything"

"How do you know that?"

"Because there's evidence ..."

"Did you find it?"

"Someone tried it."

"Exactly. I am not presenting you with a solution to your problem. I'm just trying to get to the bottom of things. I'm trying to understand the problem."

"It's okay. I trust you." Beca was surprised by her own words. She barely knew the woman.

"What scares you the most when you have those thoughts?"

"Consciousness and, at the same time, unconsciousness. The person who is dying and is aware of it or the person who isn't aware of it."

"And what do you do when you start thinking about it?"

"I don't do anything. I feel trapped and scared. Suddenly I have symptoms of twenty different diseases, I think of all the possible and imaginary scenarios. I just get scared."

"And you feel better when you take the pills?"

"I feel ... I feel numb. I still think about the same things, but the pills numb the reactions of my body. In the end, they don't solve anything."

"I'm not going to ask you to stop taking the pills. At least for now. Do you like to write?"

"Just lyrics. It's easier for me."

"I want you to do it then"

"What? Will I have to show you the lyrics?"

"No, you won't show me anything. Write what you are thinking and keep it to yourself."

"And you think it will help me?"

"Let's try. It can't hurt, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"So, will you be back next week, same time?"

"Yeah, that works for me."

"Besides writing, I want you to go out and be with your friends and your family. Don't spend so much time alone."

"I'll try."

"But try not to leave your cat alone. Animals also need companionship." Beca laughed for the first time. She nodded and got up from the chair with a smile. The doctor followed her to the door and said goodbye. Beca adjusted her backpack as she headed for the exit. As soon as she got outside, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

"Hi dad, it's me. Can I have dinner with you tomorrow? No dad, I'm not trying to replace Sunday lunch. I'm offering you the chance to have dinner with your badass daughter tomorrow and a Sunday lunch. Yeah, I'll be there. Bye, dad".

A/N: As you may have noticed, English isn't my native language. If you find any really bad mistakes, just point them out to me so I can correct them. It's my first time writing a Bechloe fanfic. I'm not a psychologist, this is loosely based on my own experience with anxiety and some things my doctor told me during our appointments. It will be a AU fanfic, but in the next chapters you'll be able to notice Beca's sarcastic side, so you've got that, at least.