A/N: This is gonna be… different (and probably ooc). That being said, I hope y'all like it. Oh, this is a Dasey- there will be a lot of flashbacks.

Disclaimer: That's right.

Dr. Kyla Harris had been waiting her entire career to have a patient like Casey Venturi. She was tired of counseling insipid soccer moms who had a fashionable case of ennui and men who, because of "mommy issues", were social cheaters; she wanted to counsel people who actually needed help and not just a swift kick in the ass. To be fair, all of her patients weren't upper and middleclass whiners who were hoping to get a prescription for Prozac or Zoloft—some of them actually had real problems, but most of them didn't. However, Casey Venturi, well, she had problems in spades.

Everybody knew about Casey and her stepbrother-cum-husband Derek Venturi. The two of them had went from being a sad tale discussed at dinner parties, to an exciting tale discussed at dinner parties, and back to a sad tale discussed at dinner parties. Theirs was the type of story the media loved to tell. It had it all: romance, violence, crime, scandal. Really, it was the type of stuff movies, especially Lifetime movies, were made of.

Dr. Harris had long been drawn to Casey's story. She'd followed the papers and news programs closely through the years soaking up every piece of information she could. But unlike her sisters, friends, and the rest of the general public, it wasn't simply the gory details and glamorous clothing that mesmerized Kyla. It was the other, less obvious, details of the Venturis' life that caught her attention.

For instance, for years she'd been trying to figure out Casey's relationship with her son; it was… weird, to say the least. And, if Kyla's and the rest of Canada's unconfirmed suspicion about who the boy's father was were true, then Kyla had to wonder why Casey had even had the kid in the first place. And there was the couple's relationship with their parents. It was common knowledge that Derek and Casey were on the outs with their parents, but nobody could figure out why. Some people thought it had something to do with the fact that they were stepsiblings, but that couldn't be it—Casey and Derek seemed to have something against their parents, not the other way around.

Plenty of unverified theories were swirling around Kyla's head and had been for years. That is why she was on the edge of her seat waiting for her new patient to arrive. Yeah, she was happy that she finally had a worthy patient, but she was practically shaking with excitement because, hopefully, she was finally going to get some answers to some long held questions.

OOOO

When Casey walked into the room she was flanked by a tall dangerous looking man, who Kyla assumed was her bodyguard, and a young woman, about Casey's age, who was decked out in expensive clothing that minus the color was exactly the same as Casey's attire. The gentleman helped both women off with their coats, first Casey and then her companion, who, after a moment, Dr. Harris recognized to be Emily Davis. Emily was often photographed with the Venturis so it wasn't hard for Kyla to pick her out.

Kyla was confused. 'Are Mrs. Venturi's guests planning on staying through the session?' "Umm," she began hating how nervous she sounded, "Therapy sessions are usually closed."

Cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow, Casey informed the good doctor, "Yes, I am aware of that. My guests will be waiting in the lobby. I just wanted them to get a good look at you," she said ambiguously.

If Kyla had been nervous before, now she felt a little sick. But, despite her newly developed misgivings she took her seat and watched Emily and the bodyguard leave.

Opting not to lie on the chaise, Casey sat down stiffly in an armchair.

"If I had a choice I wouldn't even be here," Casey told her, bluntly. "I don't even believe in therapy; therapists are crooks, witchdoctors."

"But you were close to your high school guidance counselor, Paul, were you not?" Kyla asked, after glancing at her notes.

Casey's eyes narrowed. "Did Nora tell you that?" Dr. Harris nodded. "What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing much," she said, uneasily. "Your mother just told me a few things about you and your husband—

"That woman discussed my husband with you?" she questioned, angrily.

"Yes." She nodded and cleared her throat. "I was sorry to hear about your husband's death." She offered her condolences more to gauge Casey's reaction than anything else.

Snorting, Casey reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "There are probably about ten people who were sorry to hear about my husband's death," she took a long drag on her cig, "and I seriously doubt that you are one of them."

"Mrs. Venturi, I assure you—

"Stop," Casey demanded, interrupting her. "I'm going to level with you here. The only reason I agreed to see you was because my mother threatened to sue for custody of the boy if I didn't. Now, if I was just a heroin addict I probably wouldn't have anything to worry about," she gave a harsh laugh, "but since my husband was Derek Venturi there's a chance some do-gooder judge might actually let her take my kid."

"Well, okay then." That was one question answered. Kyla had wondered why Casey suddenly wanted therapy, now she knew. "We can meet weekly at this same time. Each session will last approximately"—Casey was shaking her head back and forth, so Kyla stopped outlining the process and asked, "Is there a problem, Mrs. Venturi?"

"Yes; a very big one. That won't work," she said, snuffing out the butt of her cigarette and glancing at her watch. "You're going to cancel the rest of your appointments for today," she declared. "I'll pay you whatever you would've made during a normal day's work, hell I'll double or triple it—we both know I'm good for it. And today we'll have an extended session."

'An extended session?' "That's just not going to be possible." Maybe it could have happened, if she would've had some notice, but she couldn't just call in sick. As annoying as her patients were she couldn't just leave them hanging.

"Anything's possible," her expression became dazed, "I learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected."

"That may be so," Kyla conceded, trying to be delicate, "but I doubt that I'll be able to help you with your problems in just one day, extended session or not." After what all had happened, or at least what all Kyla suspected had happened, to this woman she needed years of therapy.

"My mother's insisting that I get 'help'," she used air quotes, "so you're going to help me. But I don't plan on wasting a year or two of my life with you." She shuddered at the thought. "So here's what we're going to do: You will cancel those other appointments, and then I'll tell you some things about my life—past and present. When I'm done you can diagnose me, cure me, and send me on my merry way. And if I make it home before dinner there'll be a bonus in it for you," she told her.

"Look," Kyla began, thoroughly annoyed, "Mrs. Venturi--"

"Casey," she corrected, feeling considerably more generous now that she had laid down the law.

"Okay," she nodded, "Casey, I know you're used to getting whatever you want—

There went her generosity.

"You don't know anything about me," Casey snapped, interrupting her.

"Fine," Kyla snapped right back. "Then enlighten me—tell me about yourself. Tell me why you're obviously so angry, but tell me one session at a time."

They glared heatedly at each other for a long time, until Casey sighed, realizing that the woman wasn't going to back down that easily.

Tilting her head at the doctor in speculation, Casey told her, "You're either a very brave woman or a very foolish one."

Kyla knew Casey was trying to cow her, but she refused to give in. She knew if she showed the slightest trace of fear she'd lose what little control she had.

"I am the woman—the Dr.—your mother chose. So, I suggest you agree to my terms if you want to keep your son."

Casey thought a moment, really thought. And she knew, as much as she hated for it to be true, that for the first time in years her last name wasn't going to be enough to scare somebody into bending to her will. Damn.

"Fine," she gave in, grudgingly. "But we have to meet everyday; none of that once a week crap. I don't want to be doing this forever."

'That makes two of us.' "Alright," Kyla agreed, "but no weekends," she stipulated, and Casey didn't even attempt to hide the 'duh' expression that was covering her face. Kyla ignored her though, and added, "And I want you to leave your goon squad at home."

Casey snorted. "No can do. Everywhere I go, they go; they're my buddies," she said in a singsong voice. Kyla looked poised to respond, so Casey continued seriously, "I don't do anything without Emily and, as you saw earlier, Jamie is attached to our hip. So coming here without them isn't going to happen."

Her tone left no room for discussion and it had this sad little desperate quality to it when she mentioned Emily, so Kyla decided to drop it. Better to choose her battles wisely.

Nodding reluctantly, Kyla said, "Okay, but they have to stay in the lobby."

'No? Really?' Rather than roll her eyes like she wanted to, Casey inclined her head and stuck her hand out.

Kyla shook it, but she couldn't help but think that she had just done something incredibly stupid.

TBC…

A/N: This was just like the prologue. Bear with me, the main plot probably won't become apparent for a few chapters. I've seen a few fics lately that look like they share similarities with this one, but the main plot of this fic is something that I haven't seen before.