Fix You

A/N: This is my first dive into Quantico fanfic so I hope you enjoy it! I've been lacking inspiration for my stories in another fandom and decided it was time to write about the couple that's been stealing all my inspiration! I've been rewatching season one a lot lately and it caught my attention that every time you see Alex at home after 1.11 she has a drink in her hand or there is a bottle of alcohol not far from her, so I decided to dive into how this all could have played out had the show focused in on Alex's struggling after the attacks on New York. Please leave me a review to let me know what you think.

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

She watches the amber liquid pour into the glass and her mind replays the days events over. The running was finally over, she was exonerated, of all charges. Finally free, but at what cost. 67 people are dead, because she was wrong. She told Simon to let go of that trigger. She fell for the terrorists plan. Elias's plan. Or at least that is what the FBI wants her to say, to believe, but she can't, and she won't.

She sighs in frustration slamming the bottle down and staring into glass and it all play's on a loop, watching Ryan be tourchered only a day before, seeing Simon in the room pleading with her to help him, to believe him, Elias jumping out the window, Simon's hand dropping from the trigger, the building shaking under their feet as the Command Center exploded blocks away. Helping carry people out, giving her statement over, and over. It was all too much. She grabbed the glass and threw it back, emptying it and setting it back down as she places her hands on the table in front of her to hold herself. Her throat burns, her eyes burn and it isn't just from the alcohol. She pours another one quickly and downs it as well, and her throat burns again. Her eyes spill over. She cries out, her legs buckling as she drops.

It was all too much.

And tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace When you love someone, but it goes to waste Could it be worse?

Three months later...

Day one of the trial. Day one of having everyone in the room staring at her with pleading eyes, hoping, praying that she will give this all up and believe their truth, but she can't, it's not her truth and it never will be.

She sits at her computer looking at the documents about Duncan's suicide, going through the articles, and looking through the information she found in the phone records she got from her bar hook up when there is a knock at her door. She looks up, debating leaving whoever it is, but with a sigh she sets her computer and glass of scotch on the table and gets up, looking through the peephole.

Ryan.

Her heart skips a beat and tenses all at once. She runs her hands through her hair and straightens her clothes, she really doesn't want him to see her this way, but she opens the door anyways.

"You going to let me in?" He asks after she stands there staring at him, unsure of what her next move should be. Unsure of what to say to him, the last time she seen him he was chained up and being tortured at her cost, and had ignored her messages and called since then.

Ryan looks around and makes a comment about her new place, but the first thing he really notices is how she grabs her glass of scotch off the coffee table and brings it to the sink, before turning back to talk to him. He want's to make a comment about how it's the middle of the day and he can already smell it on her breath and see it in her posture, but he knows it's not his place anymore, maybe it never was, but it kills him just as much. In the middle of their conversation she walks over to her little desk and he sees her self consciously push the two half empty bottles back as if she is trying to hide them, poorly, and it makes him wonder how long ago they were full.