For those of you that remember this fic, I hope you enjoy! :)

Week Five: Alicia

"It's so messy out," she muttered under her breath as she folded the dripping wet umbrella back into its original state and turned to close the door to a room she dreaded to enter for the past month.

"Alicia?"

She spun around to see the surprised face of her therapist. As he lowered his glasses from his eyes and slowly rose from the chair behind his desk, she began to wonder if her hectic week had caused her to mix up the days.

"Is our meeting not today?"

"It was cancelled. Did Peter not tell you?"

Brushing a few tendrils of hair back from her face, her head tilted to the side in thought before she began to dig through her purse for her cellphone. "No…" Seizing the touch screen device, she sighed once she saw three missed calls, two voicemails and a text message. All from him. "Make that a yes."

Adam smiled knowingly. Slipping back on his glasses, he began to walk towards her position. "He informed me that an emergency at his office wouldn't permit him to be able to come today and rescheduled you two for next week."

A groan of frustration escaped her lips as she slipped her phone back into her purse and turned to leave. "I'm so sorry for coming. Had I known—"

"It is quite alright." He watched her frantic form, watched how she scurried to put herself together to exit just as quickly as she came. "Ah, actually, my hour is free, if you would like to stay instead," he practically blurted right before her hand touched the doorknob.

Her widened eyes and perplexed expression made him question if he had mistakenly spoken to her in his native Irish dialect.

"Stay?"

"Yes." He grinned. "To talk. Unless there is a pressing matter at work that you need to attend?"

"There's always something pressing."

He wasn't going to budge or let this opportunity slip through his hands. He felt like a lion whom had finally captured its prey. The game of cat and mouse had gone on for weeks. Without even forcing it, it had all but fell into his lap.

"Within the next hour?"

Exhaling a defeated sigh, she clutched her purse tighter beneath her arm. "Dr. Lewis, I didn't sign up for an individual session. That was Peter's choice. Not mine."

"I am fully aware of that. But you both signed up for marriage counseling. As I am sure I have mentioned before, sometimes it is beneficial to look at each spouse individually, and then the marriage as a whole."

She stared at him as he stared back at her. She knew this day would come, but never planned for when it actually did. For some reason, she wasn't fighting this as hard as she thought she would. Her eyes drifted towards the empty couch briefly, then focused back on him.

"Dr. Lewis—"

"Before you say no, let me make an offer." She needed to talk without an additional distraction. This woman had endured too much to not explore the option. "The entire session will be on me; free of charge. And if you are uncomfortable within ten minutes, you can go. We can…we can forget you ever showed up."

Looking away from his daunting gaze, she quickly checked the time by the clock on his wall. It would only be an hour, or rather, ten minutes. On his dime, not hers. For ten minutes, she could pretend to listen to what the had to say then leave. What could it hurt?

"Okay," she finally said.

Adam nodded in glee. "Okay. Uh," he outstretched his hand towards the couch, "go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

She deposited the wet umbrella by the door then situated herself on the couch, in the very spot she had on the last time she was here. Nestling her purse beside her feet, she tugged at the hem of her suit blazer then smoothed a hand down the material before folding her hands together while patiently waiting for Dr. Lewis to take his seated position.

It was…odd. While he made himself comfortable in the tufted chair, she glanced at the empty spot to her left out of the corner of her eye. Being here alone was an experience she would have never envisioned for herself. It ignited an unease that settled in the pit of her stomach like jello. As well as an emptiness she didn't anticipate suddenly tugging at her heart. She quickly dismissed it.

Adam noticed her longing glance, among other things. Her hair was different today. It was no longer down and freely hanging, acting as a blanket for the emotions expressed upon her face, shielding others from seeing just how vulnerable she was. Today, she had it pulled back in a low bun with a side swooped bang, which kept falling from its tucked position behind her ear, making her wish she would have secured it with a bobby pin this morning. It was a hair style that said she had nothing more to hide. That she was willing to be open and honest during their impromptu session today. Or so he hoped.

"So, how has this week been?"

Her green eyes met his as she began to twirl her wedding band. "Good."

"Anything…exciting or revealing happen?" he probed.

She considered his question for a moment. "Um…no." Her eyes floated back to the clock on the wall. Nine more minutes…

"Okay…" He glanced down to his notes. "It has been awhile since I have seen you. Aside from this week, has anything else happened that you would like to talk about? Perhaps between you and Peter?" Her attention snapped back onto him, and he took advantage. "Anything on that front?"

"Not really. We're amicable. I suppose coming here has helped." She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Somewhat."

"Do you feel the therapy has helped you as well?"

"Helped me? How?"

"By sharing feelings you otherwise probably never would have. It is a well known fact that most find it therapeutic to voice buried emotions."

Alicia knew he would go there. Knew that he would somehow try to make the most of her deviated plan of ten minutes. But a quick glance at the clock and she realized she only had seven minutes left to play this game.

"Therapeutic to tell my husband how much of a pig I think he is for sleeping with whores for the millionth time?"

"No." Adam lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose and eyed her. "Your miscarriages. Your role—"

"I don't want to talk about that." She averted her attention from him and shifted restlessly along the seat. Adam noticed how she quickly became uncomfortable.

"That was almost four years ago, Alicia. Can you even…accept that it happened? That everything in the past couple of years did indeed happen?"

A rush of warmth filled her gut and throat felt as if it was going to close as she swallowed hard and stared at him, the clock on the wall quickly forgotten. "I've acknowledged and spoken everything in this very room. That's not accepting?"

"Is that your definition of acceptance?"

"It's going to have to be."

Adam sighed as he flipped through his notes. This was growing increasingly more difficult than he anticipated. She was colder than a block of ice and more defensive than a linebacker. Though he should have expected this. She wasn't an open book by any means. But he had cracked the surface and there was no reason to go back now.

"Tell me." Her ears perked up. "Since you obviously value your career, hence you will hurry back to work, I assume. Initially, why did you aspire to be a lawyer, and then a stay-at-home mother? What caused that turnaround?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to refute his response. But given that she had two minutes left, she decided, what the hell. She could bait him; make his tongue wet. Only to get up and leave him panting, regretting his generous offer.

"I think like most mothers, once I experienced child birth, everything shifted for me. Motherhood consumed me; I wanted to be the best mother to my children and Peter supported my decision. But as my children got older, I began to flirt with the idea of practicing law again." She smirked as she crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side while entering a state of reflection. "I was very drawn to the concept before."

"Before you had your children?"

"Yes. I had chosen the area of law because I believed it made a difference. Growing up here in Chicago, there was injustice all around me. Whether I saw it on the news or witnessed it first hand. As a little girl, I always dreamed of making a difference in the world." Her tone adapted a distant tenor as she recounted a memory. "I guess my defining moment was one day while my younger brother, Owen, and I were playing outside when he fell and hurt himself. He was such a drama queen, even back then." She laughed lightly. "He had, uhh…" Her gaze drifted towards the ceiling as she pondered the details. "He had scraped his knee really bad and blood gushed everywhere. I panicked and yelled for my father while Owen screamed at me that I would go to jail for not saving him from his fall. I remember being so frightened, thinking I would spend the rest of my life not being able to see my family. Long story short, I asked my father what could help me not go to jail. Obviously, he played along and told me that I would need a really good lawyer. The word lawyer fascinated me. As a ten-year-old girl, I didn't know what that person represented. I was determined to learn; I bothered my parents day and night about being a lawyer. My father bought me books and took me to a public trial to get an up-close look once I was a bit older. From there, I was hooked."

"You were hooked from arguing the law in hopes of gifting someone their freedom back? Or whatever the vexation may have been."

"Yes. I was intrigued by the gamble, as I understood later on. It all seemed like a monopoly. For the greater good."

"The greater good usually being someone's life?"

"Yes. I guess," she arched her brow, "when you put it in that perspective, it's not so attractive anymore."

"Well, not necessarily. Obviously your perception of this field is unique. Not everyone sees it the same way." He readjusted himself within his seat.

"I never realized that until I entered law school and my colleagues showed me a way of interpreting law that I never sought. Especially Peter."

"Oh? You two met while studying law?"

"Yes." She glanced at his empty spot. "He had this way with words. Still does. It could all be a lie or nothing worth mentioning, but he could make it sound as if your life depended on it."

Adam smiled. "How did you two meet?"

"There was this dating game event held on campus one night. Long story short, we met there and he ended up walking me home. After that, the rest was history."

"How was your relationship back then?"

Her eyes narrowed. "For us, it was bliss. Perfect. He was all I dreamed of. My mother wasn't so crazy about us dating, but my father accepted him."

"That's interesting," he said slowly. This was a factor he never would have postulated. He rubbed his finger along the bottom of his lip as he let this tidbit of information digest for a few seconds. "Would you say your mother was more so apprehensive, or just did not approve of your relationship?"

"I would say a little of both."

"Why? Did she not like Peter?"

Alicia could sense where this was going. If she answered this question, she could only guess that he would question her about Veronica as he did with Jackie. That was definitely an arena she didn't want to touch.

"I really would rather not discuss that, Dr. Lewis. I mean, isn't it unfair to talk about Peter with him not present?"

Adam was clued into her sudden shift. For a second, she was open…the answers flowed freely then all of a sudden, they were back to the usual roadblock.

"To a degree. But we are more so talking about you. Not him."

"You're asking specifics about him. I don't feel comfortable discussing those without him here."

His brows knitted together in perplexity. "I asked you about your mother's opinion of him. Not yours." Adam stared at her as she broke eye contact and projected her gaze onto his bookshelf. "Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about your mother, Alicia?"

"I don't see how she's relevant to me right now, or my marriage."

"Well, as many psychologists theorize, a lot of our beliefs and who we are as persons originate in the household. Especially in relation to gender roles. As men and women, our parents are usually the primitive examples we mold after as to who we should be. Generally, our parental relations also sets the tone for the state of our emotional well being."

"So, you're saying it's beneficial that I tell you about my mother?"

"The fact that you seem so opposed to speak about her, I feel that this would be something that is very beneficial for you to explore. But we do not have to if you do not want to, Alicia. Remember, this is your session."

She took a moment and mentally weighed out her options.

"My mother never cared for Peter because she thought he was much to older and too, "wild", for me." She noticed the way his eyebrows rose. "Her words, not mine," she quickly clarified. "And that he…would get bored with me down the road." She inhaled a deep breath. Her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. Never in her life had she journeyed down this path. At least with someone other than her husband. "In truth, I think she was just jealous."

"Why would your mother be jealous of her own daughter?"

"Peter proved her wrong. He was there for me in ways my family never was, and loved me like…" She swallowed the lump building in her throat. "…like she never did. I think when she saw that, it became one of the many reasons as to why she didn't approve. But it wasn't just that. My mother and I don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. We have never had the best of relationships."

"Why is that?"

She blinked away the tears budding in her eyes as she began to twirl her wedding band incessantly. "I don't know. I have never known. I don't think I ever will." She looked past him and through the floor-to-ceiling windows. For a fleeting second, she got lost in the modern structure of the adjacent, metallic skyscraper building. Its reflecting window panes triggered a flood of childhood memories of she and her mother she thought were best left entombed.

Settling her eyes back onto him, she hoarsely whispered, "I don't think I want to."

Neither said a word. Her revelation was heavy. Almost too heavy for her, he could tell. Her far away look clued him in to that curious and bright little girl whom probably desired the approval and love of her mother, still. She was buried deep inside, broken. The layers of his patient increased by ten from just this moment.

Adam sat up straighter within his seat and propped his elbow along the armrest. "Alicia, do you believe your mother loves you?"

It was a question she had wondered herself many times throughout her life. Sure, she was certain that to some degree, her mother loved her just as any parent loves their child. But she always wondered if it was the same undying, eternal love she felt towards her own children. In the back of her mind, she always thought no.

"I…" Biting her lower lip, she dropped her head as her eyes clamped shut, forcing herself not to invert on this couch. Adam leaned forward, his breath held while waiting for her response.

"I—"

"Mom, pick up the phone!-Mom, pick up the phone!-Mom, pick up—"

"I'm sorry." Lifting her head, she sniffed back tears as she quickly reached into her purse to grab her ringing cell phone. Emotionally, she was thrilled for its untimely disruption. "I thought I silenced it. Excuse me, I need to take this."

Adam leaned back, defeated. "Take all the time you need," he said with a warm smile.

While she answered her call, he updated his note, specifically his notes on her. Though it wasn't as lengthy as his usual individual sessions, the past thirty-minutes had enlightened him on so many of the voids she had obviously planted—much more than he anticipated. Granted, she was still a puzzle. And in his narrative, she probably always will be. Yet, she provided him insight on how to fit the complex pieces—that was her—together. In due time, he hoped, on the day of their final session, that he could confidently say he had fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. The beautifully complex mysterious puzzle that is, Alicia Florrick.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Lewis, but I have to go. My daughter needs me right now."

"Oh." He closed his notepad and deposited it onto the end table next to this chair. "I do hope everything is alright."

"I'm sure it will be. She just needs to learn when to exercise her passionate freedom of speech."

He laughed heartedly as he rose from his chair and walked towards the door. "Children these days are particularly vocal about their innocent beliefs, aren't they?"

Securing her purse in the crook of her arm, she somberly smiled and reached for her umbrella. "That they are. Thank you again for the session."

Opening the door, he offered a warm, parting smile. "It was my pleasure. Call me anytime if you would like to have another."

Nodding, she whispered, "thank you," before walking out the door and not looking back.