Thiiiiiiis is awkward. Heeeeey y'all, how you doing? It's been a hot minute since we last saw each other. Hope you're all doing well. What's new? What's the haps? I got a fun new chapter for you, yaaaay. Uhm, just...don't expect another update anytime soon? But I promise I won't like...take a few years to update again lmao. We're actually getting pretty close to the end of the story, ommmggg! Can't wait for that! Enjoy the shooow, and thank you to everyone who's still reading this for whatever incomprehensible reason.

x-X-X-x

The room wasn't what he was expecting it to be. Alex honestly thought it'd be the same as every other psychologist's room on TV. The long couch, a bunch of bookshelves, a barely lit room. But instead it looked like a regular office. There was the doctor's desk, looked like a regular desk with a normal computer and amount of papers stacked on it. There was a couch, flanked by end tables on either side, box of tissues on them. The room was warmly lit, meant to be relaxing, the walls painted a soothing blue.

He sat down on the couch and reclined into the cushions, breathing slowly to keep himself calm, cause goddammit if he wasn't nervous as hell.

"So Alex," Dr. Ragland said to him, sitting down in his chair, clipboard in hand, pen at the ready. "Let's talk."

"Okay," Alex replied simply.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Alex?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Simple things. Where do you work right now? What schools did you go to?"

"I just work at Pavilions. Got my bachelor's at UCLA."

"Ahh, I see. Did you like it?"

"Yeah, it was a great school, I really liked it.."

"And your master's?"

"Stanford."

"My my, you've done very well for yourself," Ragland smiled warmly.

"Yeah, I guessed I did," Alex smiled back, a bit sheepishly.

"Annyy important relationships? Girlfriends?…Boyfriends?"

"Just a girlfriend, we met at Stanford. We didn't date long."

"Still keep in touch?"

"Frequently."

Dr. Ragland hummed and nodded as he scribbled at his clipboard.

"So, let's talk about why you're here, Alex."

"I'm sick, doc."

"What kind of sick?"

"In the head. I'm fucking mental. And it's getting to the point where it's severely interrupting my daily life."

"How so? Describe a normal day for you to me."

Alex sighed, and paused to think for a minute before answering. A normal day, as far as he was aware. He'd wake up in the middle of the day, feeling fucking miserable. Lie around in bed for an hour, then get up and crawl into the shower. Maybe sit there under the water for however, but not too long, water bill gets expensive as fuck. Crawl out of shower, find something to eat. He doesn't bother with preparing full meals anymore, he just grabs the first thing he finds and devours it.

So that could be maybe a hot pocket. Or maybe a sleeve of crackers. A lukewarm can of soup. Maybe depending on how badly he was disassociating, it suddenly would be time to get ready for work. So he throws on his uniform, bikes down the street, maybe gets there a little too early, maybe just barely cutting it to clocking in.

From there, it's all a blur. Maybe sometimes he'll snap back into reality when someone comes to find him and tell him to take his break, or he'll drop something that makes a loud enough noise to wake him up. He does that all night, then goes back home, flops into bed, usually without changing, and passes out until the next day.

He hadn't spoken to his own sister in weeks until he finally asked her to help him set up the very appointment they were having right now. Dr. Ragland said nothing, just hummed and nodded, maybe said "I see", or "Go on". Alex finally stopped talking, and looked to him for some sort of answer.

"….So what do you think is wrong, Alex?" Dr. Ragland finally asked. Alex gaped at him, struggling to say something back.

"I don't know! You're supposed to tell me!" Alex snarled.

"Let me be more specific then. What do you think all your symptoms add up to?" Dr. Ragland clarified. "Do you think you have depression? Do you think you're bi-polar?"

"Oh," Alex said. "Well….I guess…Yeah, both? Maybe? Can I have both?"

"It's possible," Dr. Ragland shrugged.

"So what can you do?"

"Well, for now, I can prescribe medication tackling specific symptoms. Have you had any previous diagnosis that I should know about?"

"Nope," Alex shook his head.

"Alright then, so let's take it on step at a time then. For now, we can focus on, well, your focus. Help you stay in reality, so to speak. Or we can go after what might be the depression, since that can stir up all sorts of other symptoms for other things. Whatever you wanna do."

"S-sure, yeah. We can do that." Alex nodded.

"Excellent," Dr. Ragland beamed. "I can write you up for a prescription in a bit. We still have some time, is there anything else you'd like to get off your chest while you're here?"

"Oh doc," Alex sighed. "Do I got some stories for you."

x-X-X-x

Alex had always been a bit of a lonely kid. Okay, super lonely. Like, reaaaally lonely. Kinda what happened when he spent the first near decade of his life in the foster care system, being tossed around from family to family, city to city. Always a new school, a new home, a new everything.

So Alex ended up being extremely anti-social. It didn't help that he had trouble being social at all. He didn't like making eye contact, couldn't play right with the other kids. Didn't like loud noises, got overwhelmed easily. He was bullied for mercilessly. Even after he was given back to his mother, he still didn't know how to act or what to do. Didn't matter much, cause she basically came home and pushed Dana into his arms one day, and all but expected him to take care of her while she did…Whatever.

He had plenty of time to focus on schoolwork and his studies between baby naps, or having to be awake all night cause Dana would refuse to sleep longer than thirty minutes. He tried joining clubs in his high school years, mainly just to get some extra curricular activities on his transcript. Chess club, mathletes, the (at the time) budding and growing computer club. Never had any friends in those, he just showed up and sat in corner, and strongly willed himself to participate on his good days.

In hindsight, the depression had been there all along, as well as the undiagnosed autism that Ragland pointed out during one of their sessions. Out of Alex's control, but had anyone known at the time, perhaps things could have been handled better. Because despite all the advances in the medical world, they were only so recent, and way after Alex's time.

Being able to look back at his childhood and pick everything apart and put it back together was a blessing. That, and the medication. Holy shit, things were great on drugs. They didn't make all his problems go away, but after a few months, things really seemed to improve? Alex didn't feel as miserable as before? Not even the usual transition of summer to fall brought him down that bad.

It was still there, but it could have been worse. He talked to his sister more, and even to Karen more. Kept them updated on his progress. And they were happy for him. Things were even getting better at work. Greene had been oddly nice to him? Not her usual creepy, touchy-grabby stalker self. But more…Polite? Kind? Actually keeping her distance?

Why she couldn't do that before, he had no idea, but he also had a better idea of how things worked now in the world of the mentally ill.

Nothing was perfect yet though, and that was okay. But…But there was still something that was off. And he couldn't really put his finger on it. Alex often found himself sitting on the stairs to his door, rumbly-grumbly-purring Zeus in his lap, rubbing the feline behemoth behind one ear in thought.

The simple fact of the matter was, and Alex eventually figured it out, was that this is what "normal" was supposed to feel like. And he…didn't like it? He liked not being a fucking wreck twenty-four seven, he actually got shit done when he wasn't severely breaking down over everything. That was pretty nice. But he had gone well over thirty years dealing with all this shit, and suddenly it was…not there? Lessened? It was honestly scary.

Because who was really Alex Mercer without all that? Noting went away, but it just…wasn't the same. The doors were being blown wide open as he learned to cope with everything. Still didn't feel right though. He had a new crisis growing that shook him to his core every time he thought about it.

He wasn't exactly one hundred percent himself anymore, and it was a scarier thing than any boogeyman or voice in his head ever could be. And he honestly didn't know what to do about it or how to fix it.

x-X-X-x

waffles away into the night to never be seen again relatively soon