So, I was gonna post this yesterday... But then sleep happened. So BAM.
I think I'm messing around with the idea of psychology a bit TOO much in my head. I know nothing. So this may be somewhat inaccurate.
Although my ~inside sources *winkwink DNAisUnique* approve so here is random!angst!fic number 2 ;)
"Gillian, why did you become a psychologist?"
"I... wanted to help people."
"Ok, now that we've gotten that lie out of the way... Really, why?"
"I..." she falters. "I guess I wanted to understand people."
"In what way?"
"How their minds work? Why they do what they do. How people's thought
"What do you think made you want to know these things?"
You tap your fingers on your leg, you wonder why the hell you said yes to this.
"I just wanted to."
"That's not true."
"What's your point?"
"Gillian, you know how this works. You either cooperate with me or
You almost stand up and walk out, but you know if you do you'll
probably regret it later.
"My mother drank."
You almost laugh at the shock in her face. You watch her as she
processes the information and tries to figure out the best way to
breach the subject.
"Don't bother. I don't have childhood 'issues'. I'm fine. She was
never abusive and my father was always able to handle her. It was
"You are an only child?"
You pause. You hadn't expected this question and now you feel stupid
because... Well, it's one of the fundamental ones.
"I... I am. Now. I mean, for a while I wasn't."
You fumble for words that won't come to the surface. You don't want to
tell her this, you shouldn't. No one knows except your family and now,
this complete stranger. Why?
"You had a sibling? Gillian, what happened?"
"Look, I can't do this."
"Gillian. Sit down."
Her voice is so calm, yet, so forceful. You feel obliged to slump back
down into the chair.
It suddenly feels too comfortable. Too squashy. Too much like it's
trying to put you at ease.
She knows the simple qualities psychologists are required to have.
A calm, quiet voice.
An understanding nature.
A relatable personality.
They paint the walls beige. Have beige furniture. No harsh lighting or
colours. Nothing to make the crazy people more crazy.
Except, you are not crazy. You shouldn't even be here.
"Her name was Laura. I was seven when she was born. Ten when she died."
Again she looks startled. You feel kind of sorry for her. You remember
People coming in. Hating you from the beginning because of who you
are, what you do. How people like to say things for shock value.
She doesn't miss trying to hide emotions. She has gotten so good at it
now it's like second nature.
Best to ignore it anyway.
"It was a long time ago. I'm fine now."
"You never get over the loss of someone close to you. It's never
really going to be ok, Gillian."
"No, but I'm fine. I guess I've learned to live with it."
And you have. You've also come to the conclusion that everything you
ever have will eventually be taken away.
Best not to get attached anymore.
"Who have you spoken to about it?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"It was a long time ago. I don't remember."
"Does Dr. Lightman know?"
"What has that got to do with anything?"
She studies your face.
"You maintain that he is your best friend... Why wouldn't he know?"
"Tell me about her."
You don't remember much. Just snippets of random moments with her.
Brushing out her soft curls. Her asleep in your arms sucking your
finger. Her laughing.
Sophie had curls just like her.
Best not to think about that.
"She had blonde hair."
"One last question, ok Gillian?"
You know what she's going to ask. You also know that you are not going
"How did she-"
The door slams shut before she has time to say the last word.
Also, I'm taking votes on who wanted to kill Cal in that scene with Gillian in the premiere? D:
I WAS NOT HAPPY.