She was back on duty. It was a nice feeling, even if she and Azad had to work on the whole 'trust factor' thing that was supposed to be in all partnerships. Hopefully she hadn't royally screwed that up.

Truth be told, Fianna felt lucky to even have a job still. She'd seen other people fired for less. It probably helped that Azad hadn't told them about her casual use - thank goodness - and that she had mentioned that someone had called her out there. The phone logs from that night certainly helped her case, though Fianna swore she didn't remember who it was who called her out there.

Of course, she blessedly had not been put on the case to find whoever it was - she had been deemed to be too close, which made her a liability.

Still, one of the conditions of her staying on the force was that she had to continue to see a therapist on a regular basis. Specifically, they had wanted her to see this woman - a fairly recent hire, as far as Fianna knew, she was one of the therapists employed by the police force. Because it wasn't bad enough she had to have a therapist, she also had to have one that helped more cops than just her. She did not look forward to the inevitable awkward conversations.

Luckily the waiting room was empty because she had no doubt that it would've been filled with tension. Cops weren't exactly big on the whole sharing emotions thing. For that matter, neither was her family. Probably why therapy had always been like pulling teeth. Walking up to the receptionist, she took a breath. "I have an appointment with a therapist… Zainab Qureshi?" It was a few moments before Fianna was allowed to go in, but when she did, she gave a polite knock before stepping in.

She wasn't a real therapist—not the PhD kind anyway. It was her job to gather information mostly, sort it, and then pass it on to those who did have the fortune to call themselves Doctor.

But it didn't hurt to do some psychoanalysis from time to time. With the department running an unusually high number of patients, it was all hands on deck, with only the most serious and debilitating cases being sent high up. Smaller cases—or as they liked to call them, 'easy-cases'—were kept down near the ground floor of the hierarchy. They were sent to people like Zainab.

She'd been arranging the desk they'd given her when the knock came. Her fingers were all over the wood grain, sorting the gaudy desk-clock her father had given her, and filing away the endless amount of paperwork she'd been given to fill out.

"Come in!" she called, rising to her feet.

As the woman entered—Fianna, if Zainab could read her notes right—Zainab extended a hand out towards the woman, a warm smile on her lips. "I'm Zainab Qureshi; please, have a seat." She waved to a chair across from her.

Once seated, she folded her hands on the table and fixed Fianna with a friendly look.

"So! How are you today?"

Well, the woman seemed friendly enough. Granted, most of the therapists and psychiatrists she went to usually seemed friendly enough. When they had given her a choice of people she could see, she had chosen Zainab. Mostly because she was marked as licensed therapist not licensed psychiatrist which meant that this woman could recommend Fianna get on whatever drugs they would try and get her on, but she also couldn't prescribe them.

Maybe it was sheer stubbornness on her part, but she had no intention of taking any pills to 'regulate' how she was feeling. It wasn't some imbalance. Her life had gone to shit, and it was natural to be pissed and occasionally depressed over that.

Fianna gave a faint smile in response to the womans warm one, but still took her hand, her handshake firmer than her usual cold demeanor would suggest - far from a weak one, it also wasn't the kind that would crush or hurt the other woman. "Pleasure, Zainab. Fianna O'Shea, though I'm sure your notes already have that."

Sitting, she crossed her legs, and took a breath. Starting out light. "I'm not bad. Glad to be back at work." She said, shrugging. She never had been too good at this whole psychoanalyzing thing, and that much was showing.