A/N

Well hey looks like I'm back again! Crazy! To me at least. So first off. Anyone who left me a review, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love to write but have always been too scared to publish and I'm glad that I can put that fear at ease with your kind words. . , thank you very much for your encouragement. It truly means the world. So I started this suggested prompt after one of my therapy sessions. I only got this far because I ran out of ideas but I suppose I could make this a chapter fic if you guys think there's something here. Hopefully it turned out better than I think it did. Let me know what you think! Obviously, I do not own the mighty ducks.

Adam bounced his leg up and down as he anxiously waited in the tranquil environment of his therapists waiting room. Although this was far from his first visit, he still felt the lingering anxiety whenever he set foot in the building. To be fair, he couldn't think of any fourteen year old that was psyched to go to therapy.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately trying to get his leg to be still. He could feel the burning stare of his father on him. He put his head down, praying he wouldn't ask him what was wrong.

He glanced at his dad in the chair next to him, who had picked up a copy of sports illustrated. Adam looked back down. Nothing about this felt right. Not the actual therapy, he was surprised that it actually felt helpful. When he first started the sessions he didn't say a word. It took a month for him to open up. Once he did though, he began to let down heavy guards that he'd been building up since he was ten. And it felt good.

The problem was really his dad. There still remained a feeling of shame and embarrassment. It was better since he first told him months ago, but it still felt unnatural. His dad driving him to and from therapy sessions. Picking up his antidepressants. Adam wished those parts of his life could stay in the shadows. Be his dirty little secret. With everything out in the open, he felt too vulnerable which scared him to no end.

"Hi Adam, come on back."

Adam turned his head and gave a shy smile before slowly rising up from his spot and following his therapist, Dr. John Beamer, to his room. Adam liked Dr. Beamer, who insisted he be called John. He was a tall, lanky man with dark hair and square glasses, and a friendly smile that Adam trusted. His room was the cliched therapist office. Sandy colored walls with diplomas hanging above a desk. An admirable collection of psychology books and stress toys. A few indoor plants and even a couple scented candles.

Adam took a seat on the end of the plushy couch and resumed bouncing his leg up and down, a little faster pace then the last time. He really didn't feel like talking today, even though there was a lot on his mind. He wasn't sure he could get everything out there.

"What's causing the anxiety today?" John asked him, pulling out his clipboard and starting to jot down notes.

Adam shrugged, breathing getting slightly hitched.

"You don't feel like talking much, huh?"

Adam shook his head.

"Well, how about we try 5-4-3-2-1? And then we'll see how you feel."

"Okay." Adam murmured, finally looking directly at the doctor.

John smiled.

"Okay, what are five things you can see?"

Adam glanced around the room timidly, taking mental notes. He suddenly couldn't remember anything about the room that he'd spent so much time in these last few months.

"Um, I don't know, the painting behind you. The carpet. The pillow on the couch. The lamp. And your clipboard."

"Good, now four things you feel."

"Mentality or physically?"

"Whichever is fine"

"Well I feel anxious. And warm. I can feel the softness of my hoodie. And the couch below me."

"Okay, three things you can hear."

"The clock ticking. My breathing. The hum of the furnace."

"Two things you can smell."

"Candles or something. Maybe peppermint?"

"Now one thing you can taste."

"Toothpaste."

John nodded satisfied.

"Very good, Adam. How do you feel?"

"Better, I think. Not as anxious as I was."
Adam breathed out.

"But you still are, what's caused that?"

Adam looked down in his lap, twiddling his thumbs.

"Well, I'm not really sure. This morning seemed normal. I woke up and went to my first class with Charlie. Then my dad picked me up and took me here. I felt kinda anxious coming in. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's cause my dads here. I know that he means well but I'm honestly really embarrassed that he has to take me here. I'm just glad he doesn't have to sit in with us."

"So there's still a lot of shame revolving around your dad. Do you usually get anxiety when you're around him in general?"

"Well, yeah. Sometimes it's worse than other times. Depends what the situation is."

"How about when he comes to your hockey games?"

"Oh god, I always feel anxious when he does. I'm glad he's there, but I feel like I have to perform better for him. So he has something to be proud of."

"You don't think he's proud of you for just being your best?" John questioned.

Adam got a sense of deja vu. Coach Bombay said something similar to him at Junior Goodwill games when he hurt his wrist. Adam understood what Bombay was saying, but there was still a part of him that wouldn't let go of the toxic thoughts of his dad.

"I guess he is." Adam mumbled.

John scribbled down some notes before turning his attention back to Adam.

"How is hockey for you? How's Charlie?"

Adam smiled.

"Well, that area is fine. Probably the best thing in my life right now. Charlie's great. Best friend a guy could ask for. He's really been there for me and he's been great about keeping this a secret."

"Is he the only one on the team that knows?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ever thought about telling other people?"

"No way! I can't do that, they wouldn't understand."

"Have you given it much thought? Why are you so quick to dismiss it?" John said back.

Adam thought for a minute. He supposed he didn't know how the Ducks would react. Charlie was actually pushing him a little to spill it to them, but Adam didn't feel ready. He didn't want his label to go from cake eater to mentally ill. Double negative for him.

Sure the Ducks were his friends, but he didn't share a bond with them like he did with Charlie. Hell, Charlie was the only one that actually welcomed him to the team in the first place. Which was probably why it hurt so much when he was so quick to turn his back on him when he was put on varsity. Adam would be lying if he said he still didn't feel a little angry about that.

"I just don't think they would be as accepting toward it like Charlie was." Adam said, finally answering his question.

"Those are thoughts, not truths. Adam you have so many intrusive thoughts about what people would think about your situation. When in reality, you're really creating yourself more anxiety and stress by keeping it all in. Having a support system helps with recovery, and having good people around you is something I really think you need. When you tend to isolate, you become self destructive."

Adam tugged down his sleeve. He knew what he was referring to.

"How has that been?" John asked, eyeing Adam's arm.

"Fine." Adam quickly answered, glancing away.

"When was the last time you cut?"

Adam took a deep breath, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Two days ago."

John passed him a box of tissues and he quickly wiped away his tears before any fell.

"Let's talk about that."

Adam cringed.

"Do we have to?"

"Ignoring it will only make it worse."

Adam sighed as more tears started to form.

"I don't know, I just needed it. It was all too much. I tired doing some of the alternatives that you told me to do but it just didn't help." Adam shamefully admitted.

"Where did you do it? Your dorm?"

"The bathroom. I got a knife from the dining hall after lunch. I missed my next class to do it."

"What did you do to try and stop it?" He questioned.

"I was holding ice in my hand for twenty minutes but it didn't do anything. People were starting to notice. Averman thought I was trying to cool myself down or something, even though it's the middle of January. I left for the bathroom and tried to do breathing by myself but that didn't work either. When I came out everyone was gone and that's when I got the knife. Charlie asked me where I went when I got to hockey practice but I lied and said I went to class early. I don't think he believes me though, he kept asking about it yesterday." Adam finished, now with constant tears running down his cheeks.

"Adam, what is the biggest sensation you get when you cut? What was the reason for it two days ago?"

Adam sniffed and wiped his nose.

"I had no other way to channel the pain. I felt like I was going to explode unless I did it." He answered.

"Do you feel a release of emotional pain after you cut?"

Adam nodded.

"I feel so many things at once. I feel angry that I do it in the first place, I hate that I can't just be normal. I feel like I deserve it because I'm a mental fuck up who just disappoints everyone. But I just want the pain to get out of my head so I put it on my body. I know it's bad but I don't know how to stop!" Adam rambled before putting his face in his hands, his body becoming overcome with shame and tears.

"It's okay, Adam. Take some breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth." John reassured him.

Adam shakily took in a few sharp breaths and blew his nose before John spoke up again.

"Adam, you have so many distressing and crippling emotions that are draining you. Labeling yourself as a 'fuck up' and a 'freak' are only feeding these emotions that are causing you this unbearable feeling of sadness. Why does this make you a freak? Why is that how you label it?"

"Because that's what it is! I can't control my sadness and I cut myself because if it! You call that normal?" Adam cried.

"No, I call that depression. You see a freak when everyone else sees a boy in distress. Why don't you look at yourself that way?"

Adam blinked back more tears. Even if he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried he could only see a freak. He could never possess compassion for himself because he could only see his flaws. He can recall standing in front of a mirror in nothing but his boxers, looking at the various scars he inflicted onto his body and getting mad at himself for doing so. He remembers the tears and the screaming. And then the relapse. But he never gave himself compassion.

"I just can't."

John sighed and clicked his pen.

"Others would disagree. Your father. Your coach. Charlie. They would all want you to show yourself kindness."

Adam nodded, a light smile spread on his lips.

"Yeah I guess so. Charlie would at least. Probably why he was interrogating me so much yesterday." Adam trailed off.

"Charlie obviously cares about you very much, why did you feel the need to lie to him about it?"

"I don't want him to think that I'm getting worse again. It will just worry him. I don't want a repeat of the last time when he caught me trying to break open a pencil sharpener." Adam reminisced, shuddering at the horrible memory.

"Was that the same day someone saw you in the bathroom?"

Adam nodded.

"Fulton. He walked in as I was looking at my arm. I think he knew what was going on but he never brought it up again."

John nodded once more before setting his clipboard aside and leaning forward in his chair closer to Adam.

"It is possible Adam, that the stress of keeping this huge secret, is driving you to cut more? Because if I recall correctly, before Christmas you were happy as could be."

Adam smiled.

"It was really nice. Being around coach and Charlie. It's kinda cliche to say, but everything felt right with the world."

"And they both know about your situation. You admit yourself that having people around you who know is actually really helpful. So why are you passing the opportunity to have more support and kindness in your life?"

Adam tensed up and crossed his arms. He didn't have an answer.

Adam sat timidly in the front seat of his dad's Porsche, looking down at his folded hands that sat in his lap. The car ride back to Eden Hall was always silent and awkward. Neither one knew what to say so they rarely said anything. Philip Banks, although supportive of his son's treatment plan, didn't know how to be there for him. It just wasn't his area.

The man had never so much as heard about mental health until it was found in his son. Their family never had a history with it that they knew of. All he knew about it was the brief explanation that Adam's physiatrist gave him. He felt like he didn't even know how to approach his son. The times he did try and ask about it, Adam just shut him out. Yet, he still always attempted to get the boy to talk.

"So, how was it?" Philip awkwardly asked.

"Fine I guess." Adam replied.

"Is it helpful? What do you talk about?"

"Um just like school and stuff."

"I see."

Adam sighed and pressed his head against the window, dreading his return to school.

As Adam trudged through the halls he tried to make sense of what his therapist said. The rest of the session was mainly going over Adam's need of secrecy and security. His therapist believed that it was just creating more stress for him but Adam thought that it would only bring more stress if he told the Ducks about it. John actually didn't directly tell him he thought that was what he should do, but he did imply that he shouldn't be so afraid for the Ducks to find out. Adam still couldn't see the logic in that.

Upon arriving to the door of his english class, he took a deep breath before slowly turning the knob. Only to be met with about a dozen turned heads. Same thing every Wednesday. He kept his eyes to the floor and quickly made his way to his desk and took a seat without a word. He only turned around when he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to Charlie in the row behind him.

"You okay?" He whispered.

Adam nodded and turned his attention back to the front of the room.

"Hey Bankise, why you always late?" Russ piped up, breaking the silence. He shared this class with quite a few Ducks. Charlie, Russ, Averman, and Fulton.

"Yeah seriously, it's like clockwork the way you show up." Averman said.

Adam felt his cheeks redden and he lightly shook his head.

"I just have things to do." He replied just above whisper.

"Like what?" Averman pushed.

"Shut up, Averman. He doesn't have to talk about it if he doesn't want to." Charlie defended. Adam silently thanked him.

Averman shrugged and went back to his work.

By the time english ended, Adam dashed out of his seat to avoid the unwanted integration by his teammates. Of course, Charlie was right on his tail. He was harder to avoid.

"Hey man, you doing okay?" Charlie asked, draping an arm over his shoulder.

"Yeah I'm good. Just hate when people ask me about that. You didn't say anything right?"

"No way, man. I promised I wouldn't. Besides, Averman has the attention span of a goldfish. I doubt he's got a burning curiosity about it." Charlie chuckled.

"You're probably right. Still annoying though."

"That's Averman."

The boys laughed before each turning to their respective classes. Adam breathed a sigh of relief knowing he was still in the clear.

Hockey practice wasn't any different. The minute he stepped into the locker room, Russ asked him again about where he was. Which sparked Averman's attention and soon enough the entire team was on his case. Adam made up a petty excuse and silently got dressed, rushing out onto the ice.

He was lucky enough to make it out of practice by just putting his head down and skating hard. Other than the occasional 'You doing okay?' from Charlie, he made it out alive.

Both him and Charlie were exhausted upon reaching their dorm, each one collapsing on their bed.

"Ugh, Coach Orion is killing me with these drills." Charlie groaned, splayed out like a starfish.

"I thought you were past hating him?" Adam grinned, pulling his sneakers off.

"I don't hate the guy. But, shit man, he could ease up on the drills. Is this what varsity was like?"

"Imagine those drills plus the entire team hating you." Adam replied, grabbing his sketchbook from his nightstand and opening to a clean page.

Typical nights for Charlie and Adam were just this. Adam drawing and Charlie usually blasting a Pantera cassette. He actually got too many complaints from others on their floor and was forced to use headphones, which pissed him off tremendously. Sometimes Fulton and Guy would come by with a deck of cards and that'd keep them busy for a while until someone got accused of cheating. One of the reasons Portman was banned from their floor. Chair thrown out the window.

The dorm was safe. The dorm held no shame. Whatever was happening with Adam, he knew he could let his guard down and just let it be. Charlie was always the one to ask about it, tonight however Adam felt more clamped up. The thought of talking right now kinda scared him.

Charlie stared at the boy lost in his sketchbook. He'd like to think that Adam was doing okay, but he always knew when he was slipping up. It was something he just couldn't hide. Charlie could read him like a book. He rose up from his spot and sat down next to Adam who slowly turned his head away from his drawing.

"Can I help you?" He asked sarcastically.

"How are you doing? And I want an honest answer with a pouring reply." Charlie said, slapping his thigh for emphasis. Adam laughed.

"Wow, Charlie."

"I'm serious, man. You haven't seemed like yourself the last few days. I just wanna make sure you're doing okay."

"I'm good Charlie I swear, this session was just hard."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Adam turned back to his drawing, suddenly lost interest.

"There's nothing to talk about about. It was just hard and I've moved on."

"Okay sure." Charlie said, still not convinced.

"Did you talk about two days ago?"

Adam slammed his pencil down.

"You're not still on that, are you?" Adam snapped.

"Well, why wouldn't I be? You're holding ice cubes in your hands for the first half of lunch. Then you disappear and I don't see you again till hockey practice. Of course I'm still on it! It's kinda obvious what was going on."

"Oh is it? It's that damn obvious? Charlie, you don't know everything about me, you know!"

"I'm not saying that, but even you can't deny that it looked pretty suspicious."

"Well maybe it wasn't what it looked like!"

"We both know it wasn't!

"Then why can't you just fucking drop it?"

"Adam! I just want you to be okay." Charlie said, softening his tone.

Adam set his sketchbook aside and slipped his shoes back on.

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get out of here. Don't follow me, you're not my damn babysitter." Adam spat, storming out.

Charlie flinched as Adam slammed the door and ran a hand through his hair.

"Way to go, Spazway."

A/N

Just a heads up for some people who might need it. Adam did an anxiety reducer called 5-4-3-2-1. I do this a lot and it honestly really helps anxiety

attacks. It's very easy too, basically you just find 5 things you see
4 things you feel
3 things you hear
2 things you smell
1 thing you taste
Take deep breaths and regain your composure and your surroundings.
This exercise has helped me so many times, I highly recommend it.

But other than that, let me know what you thought of this and if I should continue with it. Also side note, I know that I tend to explore desk themes with these characters and I really hope it doesn't trigger anyone but for me it honestly feels like I'm channeling out some of my own pain with these characters. I see Adam as a very broken soul and that's kinda the area that I'm in right now. I feel like his character has a lot of layers that should have been explored more and this is merely my take on it. Plus him and Charlie are just my favorite and I need more of that in my life.