I'll Protect You (Re-Edit #2, 2016)

Technically, I'd already be dead if I were at the bottom of the ocean

dedicated to shiloah, for being such a great friend to me as well as being another person who has yet to apply for scholarships. cheers, love, maybe we'll actually start applying sometime soon

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Halfway down the stairs, I nearly ran into Alec. The headache pounding in my head made it hard for me to see clearly and there was a slight sensation of vertigo with every step I took. I probably would've pushed us both down the stairs if Alec hadn't gripped my arms and stopped me in my tracks. 

"Whoa, Finch," he cautioned as I rocked back and forth on my heels. "What's going on? Did she hurt you?"

"How do you know it's a her?" I asked, my fingers massaging my temple.

"I can hear the high frequency of that shut-the-hell-up voice of hers," he answered. "Seriously, you look like you're about to pass out. Do you need to lie down?"

"We need to get to Professor Fell," I refused, shaking my head. The fires were still burning in my mind, and I needed to be able to describe what I saw with accuracy to Professor Fell.

Alec gave me a long look before he nodded and together, we descended the stairs. We set off towards the history corridor, taking a little longer than usual since I had to stop every now and then thanks to the pain in my cranium. We managed to arrive just as Professor Fell was exiting his lecture hall. 

"Finches," he greeted coolly, his sharp green eyes moving between the two of us with casual interest. "Am I going to be wrongly accused of something again?"

"Yeah," Alec spoke up. "Why are you not bumping my percentage up to ninety percent when I have an eighty-nine point six?"

"Do your presentation," shrugged Professor Fell. 

"The first half of hers was from Mean Girls!" Alec protested. "And then she spent fifteen minutes ranting on about Zachariah Cross and their parallel situations that was boring enough to make me go to sleep."

"You most definitely were not asleep, Mr. I-Like-To-Make-Snide-Comments," I shot. 

"I'm pretty sure neither of you came here to complain about your grades because Rivers, if you actually cared, you'd stay awake in class for once."

Alec opened his mouth, probably to list the five times he had been awake but I cut him off with a punch on the arm. He scowled at me, but I ignored him and turned to my professor. 

"I have a question about my amnesia," I said. Professor Fell cocked a brow

"I'm not a doctor anymore," he reminded me. "You'd be better off going to the hospital."

"Just because you're not exercising your medical license doesn't mean you lost all that medical knowledge," I countered. "So how does one get their memory back?"

Professor Fell made a face at my logic (you can't fight Sparrow logic), but with a resigned sigh, he answered. "Since yours is selective amnesia--or something similar to dissociative amnesia--you can go to a psychotherapist to help bridge the gaps in your memories. I can't guarantee that your memories will come back--it's never a certainty with amnesia. Psychotherapy might not even prove to be helpful since it's been years since the incident."

"But it's possible?" 

He nodded. "It's a start."

I turned to Alec. "Great. Darkwood, be my psychotherapist."

"No," he refused. "Not unless I'm getting paid."

"You're already living in my house, what more do you want?"