Trig. Warning

So. Depression. Who's ready to take a fun journey into that? As such, this chapter contains heavy mentions of depression and disassociation. So, you know, not your cup of tea, I advise you to turn back now and return for the next chapter whenever that comes.

Alex goes back to work and can't find himself able to concentrate properly. He spent the whole weekend at Karen's. Which was probably the worst thing he could have done, but Alex is is too high to care about it. He's dragging himself through work on Monday, his thoughts all elsewhere, still back in Karen's condo, still thinking about her…

Get a fucking grip on yourself.

Alex snaps into reality, staring at one of the glass doors he's currently wiping down in the frozen foods section. He quickly glances around to make sure there's no one there to see him. There is one other person down on the other end of the aisle. Alex turns back to the freezer door.

You've reached new levels of pathetic.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Alex quietly mutters.

Stop thinking about her. Get over her. You know what you're doing right?

"No…"

Setting yourself up for more pain and suffering. You always do this.

"I do not" and Alex is wiping at the glass a bit harder now.

She doesn't love you, you know that right?

"Of course she loves me"

Not the way you want her to. You're such an idiot. You're falling back in love with her.

"What if I never fell out of it?"

Stop. Shut up. Think about your life. Think about every aspect of it. You're a fucking joke, Mercer. Stop deluding yourself. You don't deserve her. She's too good for you. Even Greene is too good for you. Stop pining for things you'll never have. Stop doing this to yourself.

Alex smacks his head against the freezer door with a dull thud. The cool of the glass seeps into his skin, and he sighs at the momentary sense of relief. He slides his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths, he can get himself back under control, he know he can. He can function through the day, he has to. It's only ten in the morning.

x-X-X-x

It becomes the vicious repeating cycle for the week. It's one of those weeks where his insomnia has kicked it into high gear, and he's not even sleeping during those few precious hours he's at home. He finds himself at the McDonald's in the middle of the shopping complex more and more often. It's really just to get a hard coffee, none of that overpriced sugary crap from Starbucks.

Sure there's always coffee in the break room, but Alex can't stand to be at work during his breaks, he feels the need to get out of there and into a new environment for a while. So it's a two minute walk over to the famous golden arches and get a tall black coffee at three hundred degrees.

Greene leaves him alone for the most part, save for her usual little treats she usually showers him in. But this week, they don't help.

They don't help the next week either. And the week after that. And the week after that as well. Alex feels like he's slipped into a trance, and every time he blinks, he's doing something new, he's somewhere else, he's never sure where he is anymore. It should unsettle him that he's spacing out this bad, that he's letting himself fall this deep.

But he really can't bring himself to care.

x-X-X-x

Greene doesn't bring him just a treat from the counter today. She thrusts a small paper bag with a slice of cake inside at him, and scurries away once he's taken it. Alex is outside behind the store, a cigarette hanging off his lips ( he finally caved and bought a packet, it's a small, wonderful stress relief). Alex glances into the little bag, noting there's something else inside. He reaches in to pull it out.

It's a business card. Ragland Psychiatry. There's an email and phone number on the card that's been circled heavily in pen. Alex flips the card over. In her loopy handwriting, Green wrote to him;

See him. He helps me, and he can help you too.

Love, Elizabeth

Alex shoves the card in his pocket, rolls the bag up, and also stuffs it in his pocket. Some time later once he clocks back in, he passes Greene on his way through the store.

"Thanks" he says to her quietly.

"Get better, Alex" Elizabeth replies back.

x-X-X-x

"Heller. Hey, Heller! Hey come on, I'm talking to you! Don't fucking ignore me you piece of shit, Heller"

James Heller finally swings around to face a red in the face Alex. Alex's chest is heaving, his voice near ready to break, looking up at his manager with utter disbelief written all over his face. "You can't do this to me, Heller. I need that extra time. I need those shifts, you don't understand I-"

"Need to see a fucking doctor or some shit" Heller growls at him. "Getting real tired of your crap, Mercer. Your head's been up your ass for too long this time"

"It's only been two weeks!"

"Try a month, Mercer. Get your act together. Maybe I'll give you those shifts again when you're not crawling into the shelves for a breakdown"

Heller leaves it at that and marches away. Alex stares and gapes after him. The store continues to revolve on around him like it didn't care that he, Alex Mercer, was teetering over the edge into the land of instability.

x-X-X-x

He thinks maybe with all the extra sleep he can finally get, things will be better. Alex wakes with the moon and sleeps with the sun. At least, that's what he would be doing if he could actually sleep. It's so weird and bizarre to be home so often. He hates it. He hates the box. He hates the prison. He hates every damn thing about it.

Alex has no where to go during the day. He sits on the steps to his apartment, head cradled in his hands, trying to will the day go by faster so he can get to work. Zeus will sit in his lap, or next to him, sit somewhere near him. Sometimes offering silent support, other times, obsessively licking at his crotch, leg freakishly outstretched.

He has the card Greene gave him magnetized to this refrigerator. He still hasn't called yet, still hasn't made an appointment. He simply doesn't have the money to even begin thinking about therapy. He can barely cover the rent for this month as it is, and he already begged Cross for a little more time, just a little more until the next paycheck.

Frankly, Alex feels like he's fighting a battle he has no hope of winning. He can't even think of how he wants to tackle it. He feels so alone, sitting here on his doorstep, just trying to think he can make it through the day and the night in perfect succession without breaking even more. He hasn't spoken to anyone he cared about in a while. Dana and Karen keep calling him and leaving him messages, and they come around to check on him. He makes it a point to not be home, or just not answer.

So it hurts more, knowing he's pushing them away when they're probably worried as hell about him. He doesn't know what to say to them, doesn't know how to explain. Alex Mercer used to be too prideful of a man to ask for help. But now, he was too shamed to do anything except plod through life.

Just him, Him, and the fucking cat.

And I'lllll see youuuu, in the next chapter. Bye-bye!