So, I wrote this before Crossroads because Toby's back story is so under-appreciated in the team, but didn't know if I wanted to post it. After what happened in Crossroads, I HAD post this! Beware grammatical errors, I tried to edit it as best I could but you never know.

Also, this doesn't follow what Toby said about his father's passiveness, but it does go into his mother's bipolar disorder.

I don't own Scorpion.

********Trigger Warning- Suicide***********

It's funny how no one ever thinks to ask the shrink if anything is wrong, Toby thought with a grimace on his lips.

He wrapped his hands around a bunch of flowers he had picked up from the local convenience store. In front of him lay a dull gray stone. Normally, Toby was not a sentimental guy, but today's case was stressful for him. Even though it was short, it struck home.

The team entered the crime scene carefully, being sure to keep everything in place. LAPD called Scorpion at the last-minute. The authorities could not crack the case. Earlier that morning, two people, a man and a woman, were found dead from bullet wounds. The man had been found with a gun in his hand and there were signs of struggle. However, both the man and woman had clean records, so they shouldn't have been committing murders.

Toby entered the scene with a deep breath, gathering his nerve. But nothing could have readied him for what he saw. He instantly recognized the double suicide that laid before him. Looking around the apartment, he found several clues.

"It's a double suicide," Toby sadly mumbled. He walked around the room and gestured to things as he spoke.

"Look at the mess here. It happened out of a fit of depression, not anger. The pictures on the wall show that this couple were married and had a son. The son died when he was young- there aren't any photos or memorabilia of a child older than six."

Toby paused and took a deep breath.

"Based on the age difference from when the pictures taken to now, it has been two years since their son's death. The wife fell into depression and couldn't handle it anymore, so she went insane and committed suicide. The husband was overcome with guilt and grief and killed himself with the gun."

The room fell silent. Seeing something like this was enough to mentally harm anybody. Badly enough for Toby, this was the second time he had seen this. He nodded to Cabe and left the apartment.

Toby put the flowers at the foot of the gravestone, emblazoned with two very familiar names, Robert T. Curtis and Margaret A. Andrews Curtis. He touched the stone briefly, hoping to feel some form of comfort through the gesture. All he felt was cold. Toby sat on the wet grass that surrounded the grave and began his vigil.

An hour later, footsteps crunched behind the upset shrink, but he ignored them. He wasn't surprised when he felt someone falling down beside him. He sat with the not-stranger for a few moments of silence before deciding to speak.

"Why are you here, Happy?"

Happy turned towards Toby. He kept his face forward, practically burning holes into the grave marker.

"Why do you think?" Happy replied softly. She paused for a moment before hesitantly enveloping his hand in hers. Toby turned and looked into Happy's eyes, which were shining with concern and sympathy. Toby turned away, trying to keep himself from becoming lost in her gaze.

"I'm named after my dad, you know," Toby began. He continued when Happy didn't reply.

"Tobias was his middle name. My mom liked the name Tobias. My dad always hated the name. He called me Toby to make up for it." Toby chuckled to himself as he reminisced.

"Every Sunday morning, my mom would call me downstairs, 'Tobias Curtis, get your butt out of bed! Church starts in 20 minutes!' I'd rush down the stairs even though I hated church- I didn't believe in any of it. But after church, Mom and Dad and I would go to the diner on the corner and order a large stack of chocolate chip pancakes to share. It was great.

"My dad held parties on Sunday nights. The doors were wide open for the entire neighborhood to bring potluck dishes and card games. My family and friends were really understanding of my intelligence. My dad and his friends even taught me poker when I was three. I cleaned them all out of their money when I was four. I would give them the money back and they would just laugh and give me a couple of bucks for the dollar store down the street."

Toby swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat. He blinked his eyes clear from forming tears and continued.

"Then my mom was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and it was like our life flipped upside down. It was gradual at first, only my dad and I noticed it. Then my mom lost her job. She was getting worse, but there was nothing we could do about it. I was ten and a freshman in highschool, so I couldn't get a job. My dad had a job as a nurse at St. Anthony's, but my mom was a lawyer. She was the breadwinner of our family. My dad couldn't earn enough money to support our family. He gambled to try to inflate his income, but it didn't always work. He developed a drinking problem from the stress.

"I had to leave private school my sophomore year and went to public school. Being a young genius, I was a perfect target for bullies. At that point, I didn't have a life at home or school. My mom never left her house, my dad was a drunk, and I was a social reject. I graduated high school at 13, got a full ride to Harvard, and majored in Medicine and Psychiatry. It was my last chance to fix my family."

Toby now had tears falling freely down his face. He knew that showing his emotions like this was a blatant sign of weakness, but, frankly, he didn't care anymore.

"I graduated when I was 16. My parents didn't come to graduation. When I got home from Harvard after graduation, I found my mom overdosed on the kitchen floor. My dad was kneeling by her sobbing. He held a gun to his head. I rushed to his side and tried to talk him down, but it didn't work. I had a MD and I couldn't stop my father from pulling the trigger."

Toby paused, head in his hands. He had kept these memories hidden for so long, it was making him explode to admit to them.

"I almost shot myself that day," Toby continued shakily, "I still remember how the gun felt in my hands. But I was scared. I ran, left my parents dead on the floor. I became an emancipated minor, earned a job flipping burgers, and used my genius to read poker faces and illegally gamble away my money. I was practically on the run until my fiance found me. I thought I loved her, but it was really my gambling addiction that loved her. She supported me for a while, and then she left me. I was lost, and still would be if Walter hadn't found me and helped me pay off my debts."

Needing a glimmer of hope, Toby turned to his left, expecting to see Happy's gaze encouraging him on. But she was gone. The space where she had sat was cool and wet with dew, and Toby knew that Happy had just been in his imagination. He threw down his hands in disappointment, not understanding why everyone assumed that he was mentally stable just because he had an MD in psychiatric medicine. Put his head in his hands once again and was lost to his thoughts.

After another hour of vigil, Toby wiped his eyes dry. He took a few shaky, but deep breaths, and straightened his posture. He stretched his face out of a frown and replaced it with his signature "all-knowing" smirk. Within moments, Toby put up his own armor- the type that he accused so many people of decorating themselves with. He walked to his car, putting away his emotions to help others understand theirs. Driving away from the cemetery, Toby glanced in the rear-view mirror. He let his face fall for a second more and whispered.

"I'm sorry."

The smell of fresh coffee and warm donuts drifted into the garage as Toby entered the pass code and entered the large metal door. He dropped the parcel of delicious pastries on the counter, calling, "I brought food!" He then started making his way to his corner of the garage. As he approached his desk, he stopped in his footsteps. Lingering sadness from earlier still plagued his heart, and he knew the only cure was to see Happy, if even just a glance. Toby grabbed a donut off of the corner and tiptoed over to Happy's workstation. When he arrived, he found Happy sitting at her desk. From the lack of loud banging noises and large pieces of metal, he assumed she was working on a much more delicate project. He glanced over her shoulder and nodded when he saw the electrical wires she was fiddling with.

"Hey, Happy," he interrupted, "I brought you a donut."

Happy's hands froze. She sat in still silence for a moment before turning her chair around to face him. Toby's face fell to concern as he noticed her blood-stained eyes and slightly smudged makeup. He gasped lightly and set the donut down. He crouched down and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Happy, why have you be-"

Suddenly, Happy sprang out of her seat. She enveloped Toby in a bone-crushing embrace, which Toby, after a moment of shock, eagerly returned. He chuckled into her hair.

"So, I leave the garage for a few hours, and this is what I get when I return?" he questioned, "I need to get out more often!"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Happy interjected with a whisper.

Toby froze. The delighted smirk on his lips died to ice and his embrace became stiff. His mind when sluggish for a moment as he processed what Happy was implying.

"You guys eavesdropped, didn't you."

"Of course," Happy replied, looking the shrink in the eye, "We learned from the best."

Toby sighed and cracked a grin at her comment. He relaxed into her embrace once again. They stayed like that for a moment before Toby finally decided on an answer.

"I had gotten so used to hiding it. Sometimes it's easier to lock your past inside of you instead of wearing it on your sleeve."

Happy replied, "But that doesn't justify you having to go through it alone."

"I don't know," Toby receded, still locked in his embrace with Happy. They held on to each other for a few more moments before Toby pulled away.

"Seeing two dead bodies had to have shaken you up some," he began, giving Happy a once-over, "Is there anything you need to ta-"

Happy rolled her eyes and softly shut him up by touching her lips to his. The kiss lasted barely a moment, but left both parties' lips tingling.

"Quit your psychoanalysis, Doc," Happy whispered, "Let me take better care of you."