It was a gloriously warm, sunny day, but that was nothing unusual- not in Honolulu. Christine had always loved the islands; she'd spent a few summers here as a student. Few places in the world could be more fascinating to a geologist than the chain of islands that were home to the world's most active volcano. In fact, she'd hoped at one time to study at UH Manoa, but her parents had refused to let her move 4,500 miles away from home.

She still couldn't believe Spencer had finally acquiesced to her demands to vacation here. It seemed like a dream. They loaded their beach towels and sunscreen into their rental car and headed to Oahu's north shore. She insisted they take the scenic route- over the Ko'olaus via the Pali Highway to Kailua, then north up the Kamehameha Highway past Pupukea to Waimea Bay. He'd complained about beaches; she assured him their would be no shorebirds to crap on him here, and the views would be stunning. After parking their car, she bolted out the door and onto the beach. She quickly shed the shirt and shorts she'd had on over her bikini, kicked off her flipflops and ran to the water, leaving him to follow with the rest of their things. It was almost summer; the monster waves of the winter season were gone and the ocean was so pertfectly calm that no matter how far she seemed to swim from the shore she could still see clearly down to the ocean floor.

She was heading for a small cluster of dark, round objects she'd seen bobbing in the water. As she drew closer, she noticed two things that told her she'd found what she'd been hoping to see. The first was the hollow, almost wooden sound made when the shells bumped together as they floated on the surface; the second was the tourists, the goddamned ever-present tourists, who had also swam out to see them. When she saw one of them swim too close and reach out a hand to touch one, she became enraged. Hawaiian green sea turtles were a endangered species, and as such it was illegal to touch them. She couldn't quite make out what language they were speaking, so she simply yelled at them in English to get their filthy fucking paws away from the turtles or else she'd have the lifeguard call the cops on them and they could spend the rest of their dream vacations in jail. She wasn't sure they could understand what she was saying, but she was certain they knew precisely what she meant when they turned around and started swimming away. Suddenly she felt something nudge her leg. She looked down, hoping to see whatever it was that had touched her, but found nothing. She turned her attention back to the turtles and felt another nudge against her belly. Again, she saw nothing that could have touched her in the water. All at once she became aware of a strange fishy smell- not the normal oceanic smell of the water. This was more like…like canned tuna, not spoiled, but still somehow foul. Bewildered, she began to swim back to the shore. When she reached shallower water she stood up to look at Spencer, who was pointing and trying to yell to her something she couldn't hear. Suddenly, a tremendous wave fell on her, throwing her face-first onto the beach, so that her cheek skidded along the sand…

She woke with a start to see Spud breathing in her face and licking her cheek. "Oh, ew! Get off me! Quit breathing your nasty fish breath on me!"

Looking past the cat, she saw Alex standing in the door to her closet, laughing. "Sorry, boss. But you gotta admit it's cute how much he likes you!"

"I'll admit no such thing," she grumbled, pulling the covers up.

"Anyway, you told me you wanted to be up by 10:30. I figured you hadn't packed, so I thought I'd do it for you." Today was the day she was to leave to meet Spencer in Las Vegas. He'd left two days prior.

"Oh yeah. Thanks," she said sitting up. As soon as she'd done so, Spud curled up on Spencer's side of the bed and closed his eyes. "Figures," she added, sticking her tongue out at the cat.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, until this hairy beast woke me. I dreamed…something about a beach. In Hawaii. It was a good dream. I wish I could have gotten Spencer to spend a week there…"

"Don't you wanna meet his mom?"

"I do," she said, yawning. "I do. But that will only take a few days, right? He's got two weeks off…"

"I dunno. Vegas sounds like fun, too. Do you want coffee? I made some."

"Thanks. You're a peach." Christine swung her legs over the side of the side of the bed and was stretching when her phone started buzzing on her nightstand. She picked it up, saw who was calling and said, "That's him."

"Tell him I say hi!"

Answering the phone she said, "Hey, sweet cheeks! We were just talking about you! How's everything-" she stopped mid-sentence, which brought Alex back to the doorway to listen. "So what are you…it came to you where? But how…oh…uh huh…" she stood up, walked to the bedroom door and shut and locked it. "I see…yeah, I mean, it's no problem…" She continued walking around the room slowly, pulling the curtains shut and locking the windows. She gestured for Alex to do the same to the rest of the windows. "Yeah, sweetheart, I understand…no, no. Don't apologize…yeah…yeah….okay, I will…we'll wait until then…alright, then…have a safe trip. I love you, too." She sat for a moment on the bed.

"Boss?" Alex asked.

Christine turned and saw she'd frightened the younger woman. "Alex," she said calmly, "do you know how to handle a firearm?"

"Only BB guns…why? What's happening?"

"Shh," she said, putting her arms around Alex. "Don't worry. It'll be alright. I'm a pretty good shot, myself, and it's probably nothing, anyway."

"What's going on?" Alex almost screamed.

Christine walked past her to the gun safe in the closet and opened it. She took out a 9mm pistol, loaded it, and explained to Alex, "Someone is hurting people and leaving messages about it with members of Spencer's team. He himself received something addressed to him delivered to his mother's hospital, which means if they know where he is on vacation, they also know where he lives. So I just want to be careful. This is a big house. You don't go anywhere right now without me, okay?"

Alex nodded.

"Have you been outside today?"

"No."

"And you're certain all the doors are still locked?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. In about an hour an agent is going to come and take us to FBI headquarters just to be safe. We may have to spend the night, so let's go down to your room and pack a little bag, and I'll pack one, too. Come on, don't cry," she said, hugging Alex again. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you. We're just doing this out of an abundance of caution, anyway."

"What about Spud?"

"Don't worry- he's coming, too."

Both women got their things into a single overnight case, showered, got Spud into his carrier, gathered up some snacks for the three of them and Spud's travel litter box, and went downstairs to wait for their escort.

Alex looked at her boss. She was tense, and the fact that she wasn't even making jokes about their situation bothered her even more- it was strange for her to go so silent. Finally, she said, "Hey, do you think we should bring some games?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. That might help. Grab a deck of cards, and whatever's in the closet, there. We should be able to fit a few things in our bag." After a moment she said, "I think someone's here. You stay there." She picked her gun up from the table and walked to the foyer, holding it behind her back.

Christine waited for the bell to ring and opened the door. "Are you Ms. Arcangeli?" the young man standing there asked.

"Yes. May I see your credentials?" The young man held them out. Tucking her gun into the back of her jeans she said, "Take it out of there. Just do it. If a guy can find out personal information on one of your agents, I'll bet he can make a good fake ID, too, but I know what Spencer's looks like…" She held the ID up in the light and felt it. She opened the door further to look out at his vehicle.

"Is there a problem?"

"Just making sure there's government tags on your SUV over there. Well, Grant, you look legit," she said handing him back his ID.

"It's Agent Anderson, ma'am."

"I prefer Grant. Come on, Alex- let's go."

As she turned to help carry their things, Anderson said, "Ma'am, you cannot bring a firearm with you," pointing to her weapon.

"Really. I wasn't aware that one was required to surrender their rights of citizenship when in protective custody."

"It's for both our safety, ma'am." Christine grumbled as she stashed it in the drawer of foyer table when Anderson spoke again. "And you most definitely cannot bring that animal with," pointing to the rolling carrier Alex was pulling behind her.

Christine spun around and faced him. "Spud is a member of my family, same as Alex. And if you think I'm going to leave him here for some psychopath to go all Fatal Attraction on him, you'd better think again, sir!"

"I'm sorry, but it's against regulations, and Agent Hotchner would be furious if-"

"Well, then you have a decision to make, Grant, because we're not leaving without the cat. So either you can bend the rules a little bit, or you can call Aaron and tell him you failed in your one little assignment to persuade two women to go with you to Quantico. Which do you think would piss him off more, hm? I just hope someone films it when you tell him the latter, because I'd love to see how he reacts to your ineptitude."

Anderson knew she was right- he'd be in trouble either way. And frankly, he was more afraid of Dr. Reid's tiny little girlfriend at that moment than he was of Agent Hotchner. At least he knew he could trust Hotch to behave somewhat reasonably. So he nodded and let the women load the cat into the SUV along with the rest of their things. As Christine locked the door of the house behind them, Alex asked her, "How long before we get to come back, do you think?"

"Hopefully before the house plants die," she said with a little smile. "Come on, let's not think about that now, okay?"

When they arrived at the Hoover Building an hour and a half later, Christine took their overnight bag and led the way to the sixth floor, with Alex close behind with the litter box and Spud in tow. They went into Gideon's office where they'd been told to wait until one of the interview rooms could be made available. Anderson followed, carrying a few shopping bags and boxes. Stepping out of the conference room, Hotch spotted him awkwardly juggling the packages and said sternly, "Agent Anderson! What on earth has taken you so long? It's been over two hours since I sent you to take a one hour trip! And what is all this?"

"Sir, they're…they're cupcakes sir. And cookies. And there's some books in the bags."

"Anderson, need I remind you that you are an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and that as such it is your responsibility to follow my direct orders, which as I recall were to bring Ms. Arcangeli and Ms. McNally here as quickly and safely as possible."

"Yes sir, but-"

"There is no 'but' here, Anderson! This was not the time for you to be doing some personal shopping!"

"No sir, but…but they forced me to."

"Forced you, Anderson?"

"Yes sir. They said they needed something to eat and some magazines and…well, Ms. Arcangeli can be very insistent and persuasive. And she's kind of scary, sir."

"It's me of whom you should be scared, Agent."

"Yes sir. Um…sir?"

"Yes?"

"There's one other thing they brought I think you should know about."

"What's that, Anderson?"

"A cat, sir."

"You let them bring an animal here?"

Just then Christine came out of the office and slapped Hotch on the back. "Hey there, Chief! How's it hanging? Say, have you figured out yet how to remove that colon blockage we discussed earlier? You know, I could put you in touch with an excellent proctologist I know. He's kinda tall and creepy and looks about like you'd expect for a guy who looks up butts for a living, but he really knows his shit- both literally and figuratively."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, I will have to ask you to take this situation a bit more seriously. We are not in one of your comedy clubs now where you have the luxury of turning everything into a joke! This is my unit, these are my agents, and it is my job to insure that they perform the jobs I assign to them in the manner in which I expect them to do them! And furthermore, about this nonsense involving your bringing a house pet into these offices-"

"Grant," Christine said, "Why don't you go on and take those in the office, would you? And help yourself to a few more sweets for your troubles- you've been a real peach." When he'd gone into through the door, Christine grabbed Hotch's arm and forced him back into his own office. After shutting the door behind them, she turned, stepped forward to stand toe to toe with him and said in a low, furious voice, "You wanna play the boss card with me? Is that the route you really wanna go down? Well then listen up, Aaron, and listen carefully- someone accessed personal information about your agents, which put them and everyone they associate with in harm's way. And I don't give a damn who's fault it was, because as the boss, ultimately it is your responsibility. It's your unit and it's your fault. And through no fault of my own, both my employee and I were also put at risk. As her boss, Alex is my responsibility. That girl in there has lived through a hell you know nothing about, and I'd rather be damned to Hell for all eternity than to let her think I wouldn't take care of her and keep her safe at all costs. And if that means I have to browbeat your agent into letting her keep her goofy-ass cat with her, buy her cupcakes or crack jokes like everything's normal so she can't tell how scared I really am, then by God, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Because even if you don't know how to keep your people safe, I do know how to keep mine safe, and that's exactly what I'm going to do, because to her, I am the boss, and that's what a good boss does. Have I made myself abundantly clear, Unit Chief Hotchner?"

"Yes ma'am. Perfectly."

"Glad to hear it. Now march your happy little ass on over there, smile at Alex, pet the cat, and eat a goddamned cupcake like a normal fucking human being because they're delicious, and God knows you could use a little sweetening up." With that, she opened the door, pointed to it, and followed him into Gideon's office.

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner," said Alex, holding out a bakery box with one hand and holding a partially eaten cupcake in another, "want some? We got plenty to share…"

"Thank you, Ms. McNally. Maybe just a cookie."

"It's Alex. And that's Spud in the case. Thanks for taking care of us."

"Well, that's my job. Though no doubt Christine could have scared off any attacker on her own, I'm sure."

Alex laughed, spraying cupcake crumbs. Holding her hand to her mouth in embarrassment she giggled, "You're probably right about that!"

"Well, you ladies make yourselves at home until we have better quarters available to you. And please don't let that cat loose."

"Aye aye, skipper," Christine called as he walked out the door.

Hotch was seated at his desk when Spencer knocked and stuck his head in the door. "I heard they're here. Is everything okay?"

"That's something of a subjective term. Alex is a delight. Christine is…a handful. It seems she bullied Anderson into letting them bring a cat with and stop for baked goods on their way here."

Spencer stepped in the door. "Yeah, that sounds like her. But I appreciate it. And as strange as it may seem, I'm sure her motive was not to be difficult or obnoxious, but to create an air of normalcy for Alex who's going through a difficult time right now."

"Yes, well, the best thing we can do for them now- for all of us- is to work the profile and find the unsub. How are things with your mother?"

"She should be here in a few hours. How is your family?"

"I sent Haley and Jack back with Anderson to gather a few things. Let's make sure we end this quickly so they can all get back to their lives. Tell the team I will meet you all in the conference room in 10 minutes."

"Yes sir."

After they'd been moved from Gideon's office, the door to the interview room opened and Christine and Alex looked up to see a tall, pretty lady with a baby come in. "What've they got you in for?" Christine asked.

"My husband had us brought here in protective custody. And you are…?"

"Chris. This is my assistant Alex, and that's Spud the Wonder Kitty. I hope you're not allergic."

"No, not at all. So why are you here? Are you…victims of this man?"

"Oh, I guess you could say we're only victims in the same sense as you. Victimization by association, I suppose you could say. I'm living with boyfriend, Agent Reid, and Alex lives me."

"Oh? I wasn't aware Dr. Reid had a significant other." She paused, looking at Christine for a moment before saying, "You look terribly familiar, though. Have we met?"

"Mmmm, pretty sure we haven't. I'd remember someone with cheekbones and a smile like that," Christine said.

"Ever watch late night TV?" Alex asked.

"Mostly just Letterman and…oh my god…wait. Take your glasses off for a moment. Yes! Now I recognize you! You're…you're…that comedian with the Italian name, am I right?"

"Arcangeli. Yeah, that's me," Christine answered with a laugh. "By the way, we brought sweets and magazines and word searches and crossword puzzles if you get bored. What's you're name?"

"Haley Hotchner. It's so nice to meet you!"

"Holy shit. You don't say? That guy has a wife? And a kid, too? How did that happen? I mean, I'm not one to pry into other people's business, but damn! Here I've been laboring under the opinion that the reason that guy is so uptight is he's just not gettin' any, you know? Who'd have thought he had a hot wife with whom he actually reproduced? Cute kid, by the way. You did make him the old fashioned way, right?"

Haley laughed as she peeled the paper from a cupcake, "Yes, we did. You know, he's not always like that. Well, he certainly wasn't before he came to the BAU, anyway." She took a bite and continued a little bitterly, "This job really consumes him..."

"I know. Spencer talks in his sleep sometimes…"

"You never told me that," Alex said.

"No. I haven't even told him. I don't think he's aware of it. Sometimes it's just muttering I can't make out. Other times it's completely mundane stuff, like arguing with Morgan about eating his candy. And sometimes it's stuff I don't fully understand but I know is disturbing and distressing to him. But it's always about this job. Dreams are the mind's way of processing and making sense of all the sensory input we receive throughout the day. He can't escape it even when he's asleep." She paused for a moment to sip her coffee and continued, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I hold your husband partly responsible for that. I think he pushes him too hard, and gives too little consideration to the fact that he needs to have a life outside the BAU."

Haley smiled weakly, "Well, if it's any consolation, I don't think he pushes any members of his team harder than he pushes himself, and he doesn't spend any more time at home with us than Spencer does with you. He's not a bad man. Quite the opposite. But…it's everything that's so good in him that drives him to work all the harder at this job. Sometimes I think he's more married to this job and more of a father to his team than he is to me or Jack."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Oh, I know. It's just…he's become so different since taking this job. You should have known him before; you'd have liked him. He has a wonderful sense of humor when he permits himself to laugh."

A few hours later, Spencer opened the door to the interview room to see Alex sitting on the floor with Jack on her lap, dangling a little plush mouse in the air to get Spud to jump and make the little boy laugh. Christine was sitting on the table saying to a laughing Haley, "I am dead serious! And the cop said to me, 'Not only does she huff that shit, she's a smoker, too!'"

"No!"

"Yes! And he said, 'Yeah, she's shacking up with Old Eddie Anderson and she was huffing on his enclosed front porch and decided to light up a cigarette afterwards. Blew the whole damned porch a foot off the front of the house. And there it sits, lookin' like shit, 'cause he ain't the money to repair it.'"

"No way. You have got to be making that up."

"Actually," Spencer interjected, "She's not. There really is a woman in town who huffs propane to get high, she is a smoker, and I was with her when we drove past Mr. Anderson's house to view the damage to his porch. It's all true." Christine hopped down off the table when she saw who stood next to him. "Mom," he said to her, "This is Mrs. Hotchner, her son Jack, and my friends Alex and Christine. Everybody, this is my mother, Diana Reid."

After a round of hellos Haley stood and said, "Say, Alex, why don't we take Jack and Spud on a tour of the office?"

"Yeah, sure," said Alex, handing Jack back to his mother and putting Spud's leash on him.

Once they were left alone, Christine asked Diana, "We have some cookies and cupcakes left. Would you like some?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied, helping herself to a cookie. "So, are you the young lady my son's been seeing?"

"Yes ma'am. And I'm very pleased to finally meet you, though I am sorry for the circumstances."

"I understand they have us all locked up here because of me."

"No, not at all. The measures are a bit draconian, I agree. But ultimately it's the criminal they're trying to catch who's put us here; that's not your fault."

"Has my son told you much about me, that I'm crazy?"

Christine laughed. "Ma'am, Spencer has only spoken to me of you with the highest of praise. As for your condition, you have a legitimate mental illness, which is no more your fault than someone who develops an unpreventable physical illness. Only the narrow-minded and fools blame people with cerebral palsy or Parkinson's disease for their conditions. And I'd like to think I'm neither narrow-minded nor a fool. Besides, crazy is nothing more than a term used to describe someone who acts or thinks in a manner that is different than what is generally considered to be normal. By that definition, I'm pretty crazy myself. In fact, Spencer likes to tell me that I'm crazy and that he should know, because he does crazy for a living."

Diana chuckled. "He told me you were both funny and kind."

"Well, life's too short to be unkind, and being funny is both my job and the only thing I feel keeping me sane sometimes. See, I've had some times in my life when I was pretty seriously depressed. It's hard being the smallest and smartest kid in class sometimes. But when you add in red hair, freckles, glasses and a speech impediment too, that doesn't exactly equal social success, you know? Then just before I turned 18 I was diagnosed with cancer, and I suddenly had to confront the fact that I could die without ever really having lived. I started seeing a therapist who urged me to journal about some of the painful experiences I had, and when I'd read them later I realized that some of the things I'd done or had done to me that hurt me in the moment were actually kind of funny. I learned my best chance at staying on an even keel, to keep myself out of that dark place I'd been in, is to find reasons to laugh. Some people, like that lady's husband- the one with the baby?- I'm pretty sure he hates me. I can be obnoxious and don't seem to take things seriously. But that's how I cope with feeling scared or sad or insecure. Now, my issues may not seem as serious as schizophrenia, but it would have killed me had I let it. So believe me when I tell you I applaud and admire you for fighting so hard against such a brutal disease for so long. That is a kind of courage I don't know if I have. And in addition to all that, you're beautiful, brilliant, and raised one helluva great son. From where I sit you've got nothing to be ashamed of, and a lot to be very proud of."

Suddenly Diana threw her arms around her and sobbed, "It has been so hard for so long. No one understands…what I wouldn't give to be the woman I was 30 years ago."

"Shhh," Christine said, stoking her hair, "I know. I know. It's a sad, lonely thing thinking no one understands you, isn't it? But look at me," she said, holding the other woman now by the shoulders, "there's one person who thinks you're the finest woman to ever walk the earth- that young man who just walked out the door. You know that, right? He never thinks about you as you might have been, but only as you are. And you are a good woman. You are a loving mother. He knows you've always tried to be the best mom you could be to him, even though it was so much more difficult for you than most. He knows you've done they very best you could. And he loves you so much."

"Is that why he never comes to see me, because he's so proud of me?"

"Hey, that isn't about you. It's about him. He feels like he's failed you because he can't help you as well as Bennington can. That's all about what he perceives his shortcomings to be, not yours. I promise you that. It's hard for him to confront that within himself. But he's working through it. Give him time. He'll forgive himself someday. And when that happens, you'll hardly be able to get rid of him."

Diana smiled as she helped herself to another cookie. "I hope you're right. And I hope you two stay together for a long time. You seem like a very nice young lady."

"Well, I hope we stay together, too. As for you, well, I see now from whom your son inherited not only his long legs and good looks, but his sweet tooth, as well!"

The next morning, Spencer came back into the interview room. By now, Jack was asleep in his stroller, Spud in his carrier and Alex at the table with her head on her folded arms. Haley flipped through a magazine while both Christine and Diana wrote. "Mrs. Hotchner, it's over. Your husband asked me to tell you he's getting ready to leave and will take you both home."

"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed, gathering up her things. "It was nice meeting you all!"

"I'll send that CD to work with Spencer for you," Christine said, waving as Alex yawned and rubbed her eyes. When she saw Spencer look at her questioningly, she shook her head slightly and went to him to say quietly, "We hit it off, but I think the stress and being out of her routine…well, you'll see. I'll tell you about it later."

"Okay. Thank you. I've been given permission to accompany her home on the jet. I'll be back in the evening. And there's something else about Elle, but we'll talk when I'm back…anyway, I'm glad you all were here. "

"I'm just glad I got to meet her. She's a lovely lady."

"Yes, she is. Anderson is waiting to take you guys home. And please don't give him a hard time- he's had a worse day than most."

"I'm too tired to even argue. Come on, Alex. Let's move," she said. "Mrs. Reid, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I hope to see you again sometime soon."

Diana looked up to smile and wave as they left. Sitting down beside her, Spencer asked, "So Mom, what did you think of Christine?"

"Oh, was that her name? She's an extraordinary young woman. Very intelligent. Hopefully someday you'll meet a young lady just like her."

"Yes ma'am. I hope so, too."

A/N

This chapter revolves around the events of the two "Fisher King" episodes, which originally aired as the season one finale and the season two premier. For the sake of this story, I have them set around mid-May, 2006, when the first part originally aired.

These episodes begin with the team members each going on vacation. Their vacations are cut short, however, when an UnSub begins contacting and sending clues to each team member either at their homes or at their vacation destinations. Reid himself is given a clue delivered to his mother's hospital, the Bennington Sanitarium in Las Vegas, where he had gone to spend his vacation. Mrs. Reid is brought to Virginia in protective custody when it is further discovered that the UnSub had specific knowledge about some team members that he could only have learned from someone who had access to the information contained in Reid's letters to his mother. The information regarding the whereabouts of each team member was obtained when the UnSub hacked Garcia's computer. This impacts this story in a few ways- first, if the UnSub knows where each team member lives, he presumably also knows Reid lives with Chris and Alex; and second, if Reid's mother may be presumed to be in danger, Chris and Alex may be, as well.

This latter part is significant- at the end, when Spencer says, "there's something else about Elle," he's referring to the fact that Elle is shot by the UnSub in her own home during this case. So it's not unreasonable to think that they same might have happened to Chris or Alex. Also, at the end when Spencer tells Chris that Anderson's "had a worse day than most," he's referring to Elle's shooting. Anderson had been responsible for giving the tired Elle a ride home, and was reprimanded later by Hotch for failing to remain with her to protect her.

A few other notes. First, regarding gun ownership. Christine has a gun. She knows how to use it, owns it legally and keeps it in a secure location. She does not allow Alex to handle one because she has no training and therefore cannot be trusted to act safely with the weapon. Please remember- guns are not toys. They are deadly weapons. If you do not know how to handle one correctly, safely and legally, you have no business handling one. Period. The remark she makes to Anderson about, "I didn't know I had to surrender my rights of citizenship" was a sarcastic one. She wasn't seriously challenging him, which is why she put it down immediately when asked to do so.

Secondly, about mental health- Christine uses humor as a method of coping with difficult, stressful situations. This does not mean she was necessarily diagnosed with a major depressive disorder or that simply telling a joke can cure anyone else in their unique situation. All it means is that, when she found herself struggling to cope with more than she could handle, she saw a therapist who helped her work through it. For other people, different kinds of treatment, including medication, may be more appropriate. If you're struggling, please know that help is available and that you're worthy of receiving it. And if you're lucky enough to be the picture of mental health, then please also be kind and compassionate towards those who are not so fortunate. Those with mental illnesses are every bit as precious, important and worthy of our respect as any other person on this planet.