"So?" Emily said expectantly and, perhaps, hopefully. She already knew it wasn't good news, based on Tara's expression and the churning feeling of dread in her gut. But she just hoped it wasn't quite as grim as she feared...

Tara glanced over her shoulder at Alex's room where she was attempting to breastfeed Lindy, making sure that she wasn't trying to eavesdrop on their conversation...though she likely had already intuited everything they were going to say. Looking back at Emily, she offered an apologetic smile (that was really more of a grimace). "It's not good, Em," she admitted quietly.

Emily nodded, attempted an expression that she hoped looked stronger and more capable than she felt just then. Though, to be perfectly honest, she had a feeling Tara already knew just how frayed the thread she was hanging on by was...afterall, she'd always had an unfortunate habit of reading Emily like the open book she tried very hard not to be.

"I'll want to run some tests to rule out other causes, but I feel quite confident in diagnosing Alex as having postpartum psychosis," Tara informed her.

"Shit..." Emily said on an exhale, her expansive vocabulary failing her in that moment. While she'd feared the worst, this hadn't even been on her radar as being a possibility. She knew what it was, of course – it had been mentioned in the numerous What to Expect... type books Alex had made her read, but she'd ignorantly assumed that would never happen to them and thus had barely even skimmed the sections.

Tara reached over and rested a consoling hand on her shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, but Emily couldn't help but feel a little patronized. "I know it's not the news you were hoping for, but it is treatable." A beat. "That's the good news..."

Emily's eyes went wide. "What part of that was good news?" she asked. The words came off significantly more scathing than she'd intended them to be and she briefly thought about apologizing for her tone, but found that she really didn't want to apologize. If anything, she wanted to blame and punish...

Tara's expression was apologetic, then, as if she knew what was running through Emily's mind. "Em, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I think it would be best for everyone if Alex were admitted to the psychiatric ward," she said quietly. It was clear she hated having to say it, especially to one of her best friends, but knew it had to be said.

"You want to put my wife – the mother of a newborn – on the psych ward?" Emily repeated incredulously.

"Emily," Tara said very seriously, "The alternative is you taking Alex home, in which case you will literally have to supervise her every second of every day. You can't leave her alone with Lindy. She is a risk to herself and others. I know you love her and want what's best for her, but – and I mean this in the nicest way possible – you cannot do this alone..."

Before she'd really thought it through, Emily was already speaking, "I won't do it alone, then. But I'm not putting her in the looney bin." She'd truly never before in her life been quite this angry. She knew it wasn't Tara's fault, that she was just trying to help, but she didn't have anyone else to blame – the alternative was blaming Alex and she couldn't even begin to fathom being angry with her over this...

"Em..." Tara tried again.

But she wasn't listening. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep her at home," she vowed. She turned and was about to march off...but then she seemed to think better and turned back around, narrowing a glare at Tara. Pointing an accusing finger at her, she snapped, "You know, you're supposed to be my friend..."

"Emily, I am your friend," she insisted.

"No, you're not," she said adamantly, "If you were, you'd actually want to help instead of locking her up like some kind of fucking animal! I can't believe I ever trusted you..."

And, though Emily was expecting Tara to lash out right back, she surprised her by saying, "What else?"

A beat.

"What?"

"What else?" Tara repeated. "You've clearly had a lot on your mind – get it off your chest. Really sock it to me."

Emily seemed confused, then. "You... You want me to yell at you?"

"Yes!" Tara insisted. "You obviously need to yell at someone – you're overwhelmed, overworked, and scared shitless – you're not going to take it out on Alex, so take it out on me."

She sighed, shook her head. "I'm not going to yell at you," she said, sounding as if all the fight had left her, leaving behind only exhaustion.

Tara could tell part of her still wanted to, but the Ambassador's influence was far too strong to let her make a scene like that. "Well," she said, sounding just a little disappointed, "When you eventually realize you're at your boiling point, call me."


"I suppose you're here to tell me you're going to commit me?" Alex asked acerbically when Emily joined her in her room.

Trying not to take her bitterness to heart, Emily gently eased the baby from her hands and settled her in the stroller. "Get your coat, Al," she said, "We're going home."

"Really?" Alex asked, sounding completely and utterly shocked. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she was quick to jump to her feet and follow Emily towards the exit. "What did Tara say?" she wanted to know, jogging slightly to keep up with Emily's brisk pace.

Emily scowled. "She thinks you have postpartum psychosis," she said.

Alex frowned at the odd emphasis. "She thinks?" she echoed curiously. "You have a different opinion?"

"Maybe not a different opinion," she said, "But I disagree with her methods."

Her frown deepening, Alex asked, "So, your plan is...what?"

"I don't know yet," she admitted, "But it sure as fuck isn't locking you up."