A/N: I may've marathoned AHS: Asylum and finished it far sooner than I thought I would. I'm also obsessed with Dr. Thredson (well, Zachary Quinto mostly but Thredson is dang hot), and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. They say writing is therapeutic right? I figured by writing a story about him, maybe it'd help so I can focus on some other stories I've got going on.

Disclaimer: I don't own AHS, the characters, etc. I don't exactly know where this is going to end up but it'll be a wild ride.

"Dr. Thredson? Your patient is waiting upstairs."

The doctor looked up from the files in his hand towards the stairs. He'd just arrived at Briarcliff for the day and he was already swamped with paperwork. Sister Mary Eunice stood on the stairs, holding onto the wooden railing with one hand. She smiled down at him, a sweet and kind smile. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy. She was always in such a good mood.

"Thank you," he said as he closed the files and took the stairs two at a time. He paused by Sister Mary Eunice, "Sister Jude's office?"

"Yes," she said, turning to smile at him. "Sister Jude wanted to be there with you both."

"Thank you." He climbed the sets of stairs to the top floor and came around to a heavy wooden door. He knocked apprehensively, having quickly learned that you never entered Sister Jude's office without knocking first. At the sound of her rough voice in response to his knocks, he opened the door and stepped inside.

"I believe I have a patient here?" he asked, closing the door behind him. Sister Jude nodded and motioned for him.

"Dr. Thredson, this is your new patient." Sister pointed towards the body sitting across from her in a wooden chair. He took a few steps forward but stopped when the person turned around. It was a young girl, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. Her shoulder-length dark hair was pulled to the side with loose braids hanging throughout. Her eyes watched him as he looked between her and Sister Jude.

"I'm sorry, I don't –?"

"I know you're quite busy," Sister Jude said, "what with Kit Walker and all, but I figure you could help this young lady. She's quite the handful."

"Yes, I am quite busy," he replied, not even fully acknowledging the young girl. "You only hired me to help with Kit Walker. I've already consulted with a few of your other patients, but I am not authorized to diagnose them. I wasn't hired to treat them, or this young lady. I was hired to treat Kit."

"And treat him you will, along with this girl. Her name is Diana Alice Windsor – you know, like Alice in Wonderland? But it ain't no Wonderland she's in," she commented offhandedly. "Figure out what's wrong with her and see if you can treat her."

"I'm sorry, but -" Dr. Thredson stopped to give a half-hearted smile at the young girl before leaning across the desk to Sister Jude. "You can't possibly have me treating so many people at once."

"Why not? It's your job isn't it? Besides, we'll be raising your pay. Not much, mind you, we're not a charity. We have people to take care of, and we can't be spending all of our money on some doctor."

He gritted his teeth and answered, "Fine. But I would prefer if you didn't talk about my patients so poorly right in front of them."

"Ah, see? You're already getting the hang of calling her your patient. Now go along. You can use the day room to talk to her." She waved her hands towards them as if they were specks of dust in the air. Thredson stood up and looked to the girl. She shyly looked up at him and gave a meek smile.

"Come along," he said, helping her stand up. "I'll take you downstairs."

"Don't forget to close the door," Sister Jude called out as Thredson made his way across the room. "I don't want any unwelcome visitors sneaking in."

"So," Thredson began as he sat down in a plush chair in the day room. The girl sat across from him on the couch; the coffee table was between them. "Do you prefer to go by Diana or Alice?"

"Either one is fine," she said softly.

"Then I'll call you Alice."

"Like Alice in Wonderland," she repeated the same thought Sister Jude had.

"Yes, exactly. That was one of my favorite books growing up."

"Really?" she seemed to brighten up at the statement.

"Yes. I read it quite often, actually."

"My mom used to read it to me a lot, too." Her voice trailed off and she seemed lost in her thoughts. Suddenly she turned her eyes to Thredson. "What should I call you? Doctor? Or is there something else you prefer?"

"Most of my patients call me Doctor, but Thredson also works. Maybe after a while I'll tell you my first name."

Alice gave a bashful smile and covered her face with her hands; Thredson couldn't help but smile too. He adjusted his glasses and set his files on the coffee table. "So Alice," he picked up one file with the girl's name on it. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."

She clasped her hands together in her lap and looked up to the ceiling. "Mmm . . . My name is Diana Alice Windsor – but you know that . . ." she gave an embarrassed laugh but continued. "My mom's name is Roberta and my dad's name is Keith. They had me when they were kind of old."

"How old are you now?"

"I'm twenty-two." Her eyes traveled back up to the ceiling when he looked at her.

"How old are you really?"

There was a long moment of silence before she gave in and answered, "Twenty."

"Why did you feel the need to lie to me about your age, Alice?"

The girl picked at her fingernails and refused to look at the doctor. "I thought . . . I thought maybe you'd say I was too young."

Thredson's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Too young for what? For me to treat you?"

"No," she shook her head, finally looking at him. "Just . . . too young. For you."

He was quiet for a moment before folding his hands in his lap. "Alice . . ."

"See? I told you."

"No, that's not it. It's just . . . you're my patient now, and we can't . . . I can't -"

"It's fine, I get it. Besides," she looked him in the eyes, her face serious, her voice low, "I know what you are."

The doctor's throat seemed to tighten and he swallowed hard. "And what's that?" he asked coolly.

She grinned at him. "It's okay. Sometimes I feel the same way. My mom wouldn't suckle me either, because she was too old. She put me on formula. It was supposed to be a bonding thing, right? I guess that's why we didn't get along . . . Makes sense now."

He tried his hardest to ignore the growing fear in his chest and instead focused on the curiosity that was bubbling up. "What makes sense?"

Her eyes snapped to his as she chewed on the corner of a fingernail. "Why I killed her."

"And why was that?"

"She was always telling me that I was being too noisy. I cried when I was a baby, and I cried when I was an adult. She couldn't stand it; couldn't stand me. She said she loved me but I knew she was lying. I knew everything about her, Doctor. That's why she was afraid of me. She knew that I could read her thoughts and that I knew when she was lying – and, Doctor, she lied a lot. Every time her mouth was moving she was spewing out lies to me. My dad wasn't any better . . . He kept his mouth shut most of the time, but I could still read his thoughts. He didn't like me either, Doctor. He really didn't. He kept saying, in his mind, that he didn't want kids at such an old age. He didn't want me; it was my mom's fault that I was born, he'd think. He didn't talk to me but he'd think all the time."

"You could read their thoughts?"

"Yes. I think it was kind of poetic . . . what I did."

"What did you do?"

"I cut out my mom's tongue and I opened my dad's head with an ice pick and sledgehammer. That way she couldn't tell me any more lies and he couldn't think any more mean thoughts about me."

"How old were you when you did this?"

"Fourteen. I ran away after that, but it wasn't much better. Turns out I can read everyone's mind. They were all thinking mean things about me. I didn't want to hurt anyone else so I left. I lived with my sister for a while, but she was so scared of me! She didn't know about mom and dad yet, but she knew there was something wrong with me. She was a lot older than me and she was married. She had two little babies . . . I could tell they were special, different . . . kind of like me, but they couldn't read minds. My sister was going to throw me out; I heard her thoughts one night. Her husband was agreeing with her, I knew he was. He was thinking the same thing! I didn't want to leave them, the little babies. I had to do something, Doctor. It was kind of messy but I cleaned it up anyway, and I buried them in the back so they'd still be close to home. The babies could visit them anytime they wanted; it was really nice of me, right? I raised those babies for six years, Doctor. They were mine for those six years, but then someone finally noticed something wasn't right – that my sister and her husband were missing. Took them long enough, right? They ended up finding them and I was taken away – away from my babies! They didn't have anyone else, Doc! They really didn't . . . I could read everyone's thoughts at the police station. They were calling me such mean, dirty names! And I heard what they were doing with the babies . . . they put them in the system. It's so hard, isn't it? It's hard growing up without a mom who loves you, right? I loved those babies, Doctor Thredson. I was their mama their whole life. Now they're in the system! It's terrible in there, you know? Of course . . . I don't have to tell you that, right? You know how bad it is."

Thredson was silent as he stared at Alice. He slowly retrieved a cigarette from his pocket along with a lighter. Smoke curled from his lips as he puffed on the cigarette a few times. He was trying to calm his nerves.

"You seem to know a lot about what people are thinking. How is that?"

"I'm not sure, to be quite honest. I was always like that."

"And you killed your parents and your sister and her husband because of what they were thinking?"

"Yes. I told you, I can read their thoughts."

"How did you know they were really intending to do you harm?"

"Because, I know everything about them, Doctor." She leaned in, smiling softly at him. "And I know everything about you, too."

A few more puffs on the cigarette and he gave her an equally soft smile. "No, I don't think you do."

"Sure I do," she said, her soft smile spreading wider across her face and she winked at him, "Bloody Face."