FIC: Therapy
Title: Therapy
Rating: PG
Fandom: The Good Wife
Character: Alicia
Summary: Alicia doesn't believe in therapy.
Alicia doesn't believe in therapy. Not for herself, not for her children, and certainly not for her marriage.
(Once, a million years ago and six months after her father moved out, her mom dragged her to a psychologist's office and nudged her inside. It took her all of three minutes to realize that she was smarter than the doctor; it took the doctor half an hour to come to the same conclusion.
"You don't think I have anything to offer you?" he asked, looking up from his yellow pad.
"No. I'm fine, it's Owen you should be worried about."
"So why did your mom ask me to see you?"
She didn't have an answer to that.)
She doesn't deny that therapy can help people, some people. She's had clients who seem to have benefited from it. She is not her clients.
(The first time Peter brought it up was two weeks after the allegations surfaced, when she still couldn't look at him without feeling sick. She was searching for her car keys, trying to figure out when she became the kind of person who lost things.
"No," she said, almost automatically, as she turned away from him to check the sofa cushions.
"It might help us… talk," he said, voice careful and soft.
She wondered if he thought that his hesitation was supposed to put her at ease, as if anything he did could ever make her feel at ease around him again. "No," she said again, more forcefully. "No, Peter. No."
"Alicia, I'm sorry-- "
"Tell it to your whore."
She found her keys on the hook by the door, right where they belonged.)
Therapy is invasive. It's unnecessary and it's inappropriate. Therapy is for people who aren't strong enough to cope. Alicia has always been strong.
(The day after Peter was sentenced, her mom asked if she had thought about it for the kids. She had laughed into the phone, but her mom didn't let up.
"My kids are managing, Mom," she insisted. "When they need to talk, they talk to me."
"There are some things kids don't talk about with their parents, Alicia, and with Peter gone and you going back to work you've got so much on your plate, and even under the best of circumstances, conversations about sex are--"
"I've talked with my kids about sex," she shot back, angrily. "I have talked to my kids about sex and condoms and their father's decision to pay for it until I am blue in the face and my kids are good. We're going to be good."
"It might help you, too," her mom added, unfazed.
"I am fine," she snapped and hung up the phone.
There was a reason she'd been avoiding her mother's calls.)
She doesn't believe in therapy, but shrinks cost less than lawyers and David Lee doesn't like mess. When she agrees to see Peter's counselor, finally, it's to talk about custody.
(When Peter storms out and she moves to go, Anne asks her to stay. She doesn't see the point, so she declines, but the therapist presses her anyway.
"He's been here every week for the past few months because he thinks it will help the two of you to reconcile," she says. "Is that something you're open to?"
She has to think about it, because, really, it's not something she's been willing to ask herself. "No," she says, finally. It feels like a deeply personal admission to be making to a stranger, but personal or not, it's true, and she doesn't see any reason to lie. "Not anymore."
The therapist smiles. "Well, at least one of you got your money's worth, then."
Alicia has nothing to say to that.)
Rating: PG
Fandom: The Good Wife
Character: Alicia
Summary: Alicia doesn't believe in therapy.
Alicia doesn't believe in therapy. Not for herself, not for her children, and certainly not for her marriage.
(Once, a million years ago and six months after her father moved out, her mom dragged her to a psychologist's office and nudged her inside. It took her all of three minutes to realize that she was smarter than the doctor; it took the doctor half an hour to come to the same conclusion.
"You don't think I have anything to offer you?" he asked, looking up from his yellow pad.
"No. I'm fine, it's Owen you should be worried about."
"So why did your mom ask me to see you?"
She didn't have an answer to that.)
She doesn't deny that therapy can help people, some people. She's had clients who seem to have benefited from it. She is not her clients.
(The first time Peter brought it up was two weeks after the allegations surfaced, when she still couldn't look at him without feeling sick. She was searching for her car keys, trying to figure out when she became the kind of person who lost things.
"No," she said, almost automatically, as she turned away from him to check the sofa cushions.
"It might help us… talk," he said, voice careful and soft.
She wondered if he thought that his hesitation was supposed to put her at ease, as if anything he did could ever make her feel at ease around him again. "No," she said again, more forcefully. "No, Peter. No."
"Alicia, I'm sorry-- "
"Tell it to your whore."
She found her keys on the hook by the door, right where they belonged.)
Therapy is invasive. It's unnecessary and it's inappropriate. Therapy is for people who aren't strong enough to cope. Alicia has always been strong.
(The day after Peter was sentenced, her mom asked if she had thought about it for the kids. She had laughed into the phone, but her mom didn't let up.
"My kids are managing, Mom," she insisted. "When they need to talk, they talk to me."
"There are some things kids don't talk about with their parents, Alicia, and with Peter gone and you going back to work you've got so much on your plate, and even under the best of circumstances, conversations about sex are--"
"I've talked with my kids about sex," she shot back, angrily. "I have talked to my kids about sex and condoms and their father's decision to pay for it until I am blue in the face and my kids are good. We're going to be good."
"It might help you, too," her mom added, unfazed.
"I am fine," she snapped and hung up the phone.
There was a reason she'd been avoiding her mother's calls.)
She doesn't believe in therapy, but shrinks cost less than lawyers and David Lee doesn't like mess. When she agrees to see Peter's counselor, finally, it's to talk about custody.
(When Peter storms out and she moves to go, Anne asks her to stay. She doesn't see the point, so she declines, but the therapist presses her anyway.
"He's been here every week for the past few months because he thinks it will help the two of you to reconcile," she says. "Is that something you're open to?"
She has to think about it, because, really, it's not something she's been willing to ask herself. "No," she says, finally. It feels like a deeply personal admission to be making to a stranger, but personal or not, it's true, and she doesn't see any reason to lie. "Not anymore."
The therapist smiles. "Well, at least one of you got your money's worth, then."
Alicia has nothing to say to that.)