𝟼: 𝚂𝚊𝚗 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘, 𝙲𝙰

                                    

                                          
"Let's start from the beginning."
                          
    The road to recovery was a long one. As Eliza sat in Dr. Smith's boring and under decorated office not even two days after being released from Kindred Hospital, she couldn't help but reflect upon how far she'd come. Her near-death experience made her realize that she could be better. That she didn't have to live the rest of her days as the pretentious assholes that Ezra would eventually gossip about to his next client. She could be better and she could do better.
                          
    "I want you to take me back to that night," Dr. Smith narrated calmly. The pen and paper had been abandoned halfway through this appointment in exchange for the oddly comfortable body-length couch that occupied the far corner of the office. "You're completely safe in here, Eliza. If you feel uncomfortable at any point of this exercise, just squeeze my hand twice and we can stop."
                          
    Eliza took a deep breath, readying herself for whatever subconscious exercise the therapist was going to have her partake in. She already was uncomfortable. Though the couch was comfy, she could still feel the springs through the upholstery. But it went beyond that. Her eyes closed in a darkened room that was largely unfamiliar to her, not to mention the fact that she barely knew Dr. Smith--at least, not on a personal level. However, against her better judgement, she opened her mouth and said, "I'm ready."
                          
    "Alright." Eliza heard Dr. Smith shift slightly in her seat, the faux leather squeaking against itself. "So you're sitting at your dining room table and the first course has just been served. Can you start by telling me what you're eating?"
                          
    "Uh," Eliza bit on the inside of her cheek. The night was still painful to recall and it would be for a long time, as Dr. Smith assured her. Over the four days of her slow recovery, maybe half of the night had resurfaced in her mind. The miniscule details seemed to come to mind first, what they had for dinner, the entirety of Noah's outfit... things that didn't really matter in retrospect. 
                          
But then came the truly painful memories, all of them arriving to her in the dead of night. The night prior, to be accurate. It was truly horrifying. One minute she's arguing with her mother, who had transformed into James at some point, and then she's staring down the barrel of a smoking gun. Eliza really needed to stop listening to Riley's dream analysis advice. 
                          
She swallowed harshly. "We're having avocado caprese salad, with cherry tomato halves instead of slices because Julia doesn't like regular tomatoes."
                          
    "Good..." Dr. Smith allowed her a moment to breathe, her hand unmoving from Eliza's own. "Now, can you tell me who's sitting at the table? Who is sitting next to you maybe?"
                          
    She nodded. "The FBI agents are all on my left and my--my family is on my right. Agent, no, Dr. Reid is to my left and James is on my right." Eliza furrowed her brow, visualizing the night. "Helena is sitting directly across from me..."
                          
    "Good. Now, what are the conversations happening at the table? Can you hear anyone talking?"
                          
    "Yes, only one person's talking. It's Helena and she's just insulted Agent Jareau," Eliza recalled. She turned her focus to her right, looking through the vision in her mind. "Adeline... she's playing with something under the table..."
                          
    Eliza could hear her own heartbeat at this point, eyes clenched so tightly that Dr. Smith wondered if she should be worried. But Eliza hadn't squeezed her hand yet and there was still so much to unpack. 
                          
    "Eliza," Dr. Smith said, her voice as smooth as honey. "Don't look at Adeline. Focus on your mother. What's she saying?"
                          
    "Helena, she's something, I don't know--" Her voice caught in her throat and she's choking on air as she realizes what Adeline's got in her hand. "I'm standing up and Adeline's standing, too, and--!" Eliza abruptly sat up, not bothering to squeeze Dr. Smith's hand. Instead, she wrenched it out of her grasp and cried out, gasping for air and fanning herself to prevent any tears from falling. She refused to cry in front of the doctor.