This story is oh so very depressing. It really is.

Warning: Talk of self-harm and suicide. This story discusses mental illness. That's the entire focus of the story.

I own nothing. Please enjoy and review.

"Barney?" Doctor Taylor stared at me in surprised walking into his office.

Taking a deep breath I looked up from the floor and tried to give my old psychologist a smile. It was hard to believe that I had only been sixteen when I first started to see him and I stopped about ten years later when I was twenty-six. Which was a little more than eighteen years ago.

When I stopped seeing Dr. Taylor I had thought that I hadn't needed him anymore or I had convinced myself that I didn't. I was fine. There was nothing wrong with me and I was so sure that I was going to prove it. So I quit talking to him and I quit taking the meds that he gave me.

I spent years fighting my own mind because I thought that I could. I wanted to be okay. After some time passed I was starting to realize that I wasn't, but I kept going because I was the Barnacle and I did not admit defeat! That and I had a few tricks that seemed to work for the most part.

Things started to change though. It was sudden, but I did find myself growing more and more desperate to find a way to make everything okay. I thought I was doing okay until my friends started to question me. They kept saying that I wasn't acting like myself and there was no way that I was going to tell them why that was.

I was in control though. I was….I thought I was. Everything was getting so confusing and it was honestly just becoming too much to handle. The urges kept coming stronger and stronger and none of the tricks I used were working anymore. I wasn't as strong as I thought and I was actually starting to fear what I'd do if I didn't get this under control.

"Barney," Doctor Taylor spoke softly, "Talk to me."

"I don't know what to say," I responded rubbing a hand over my forearm.

"Are the urges back?"

"Yes?"

"Is that an answer or a question? Barney, you know you're safe here. No one will ever know what is said in this office."

"I know that."

"Then what has you so worried?"

Jumping up from my seat I slowly started to pace the length of the office trying to get my head on straight. I had promised myself that I was never going to start this again. I was okay. I didn't need some pills.

"This was a mistake," I shook my head moving towards the door.

"You wouldn't be here if that was true, Barney," Dr. Taylor leant forward his elbows on his knees, "What's going on?"

"I don't need those pills."

"I never said anything about pills. We can start there if you'd like though. What has you so concerned about taking pills?"

"No. We're not going to do this."

"Do what?"

Shaking my head quickly I started to rub my forearm harder. This was a horrible idea. I had no idea why I thought it was supposed to make things better, but I was wrong. Things always seemed to get worse when I actually tried to talk about my issues.

That was why I never talked about myself. Why I pretended everything was awesome all the time. I had to because in the end I was going to be the only person I could rely on. Even if I did get close to people I couldn't let them know me.

Yeah, I knew that my friends thought that something was wrong with me. Well, they thought a lot was wrong with me, but they didn't really have any proof. It was all speculation and I was perfectly okay with that. In fact, that was something I actually wanted.

Don't get me wrong I loved my friends, but I knew what they would say if they knew how messed up I was. I might not want them to know the real me, but I wasn't going to risk losing them over something as stupid as this.

"Barney," Dr. Taylor sighed with a shake of his head, "You attempted suicide after two years of self-harm. You took anti-depressants to help. There is no shame in that."

"No shame? There's every shame!"

"You never cared before. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were thankful. What changed?"

Looking at the doctor I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but stopped short. Dr. Taylor had helped me so much in the past and the idea of disrespecting him like that didn't sit right. Honestly if it wasn't for him I probably wouldn't have stopped after one attempt.

"What happened after the last time we talked?" Dr. Taylor questioned softly.

"Someone I called my friend found my pills," I whispered falling back into my seat, "He didn't…That is the second most horrible I've ever felt about myself."

"Tell me."

As I filled the doctor in on everything that happened over the past years I felt like all my energy was draining out of me. I hadn't actually talked like this since the last time he and I talked. Not that anyone knew that. My mom and James still thought I was seeing him.

I couldn't really tell them that I had quit. Not after all the trouble I had put them through the first time. I still couldn't believe that I hurt my family that much. Especially when I thought that they didn't care about me.

Though I hated looking back on my life whenever I did I realized how stupid I was. Which lasted a few moments before I started to wonder if I really was stupid or I had been right all along. I really hated my mind.

"We have a lot to discuss, Barney," Dr. Taylor stood up, "I want you to make an appointment."

"You really think I need to start seeing you again?" I questioned staring at the ground once more.

"You've been rubbing your forearm since you came in. If you continue this way you're going to rub all your skin off. Relax, Barney. We're just going to talk for now. Just like we did before."

"I tried to kill myself before."

"You're not going to do that now. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because now we both know the signs and you know that you can contact me in case of an emergency. Don't worry. Everything will work out. Go make your appointment with the secretary."

With a soft sigh I stood up and left stopping by the secretary's desk to make a weekly appointment. My whole body was shaking as I hailed a taxi to drive me to my place.

I had never thought I'd end up back here. I worked so hard to distance myself from it and now I couldn't do that. I was weak and pathetic and all I could think about right now was harming myself. How could I have gotten here once more?

My life was good. Good job, good money, good apartment, good friends. Everything was really fucking good. Yet I couldn't…I just wanted to do something that would end everything. Permanently.

When I got to my place I quickly took my suit off so I could climb into the shower only to hiss in pain when I started to take my shirt off. Looking down I let out a defeated sigh when I saw my forearm.

It was rubbed raw in some places and there was blood welling up in others. I had done this. Once again I was too weak and I ended up hurting myself without actually realizing it. Who does this?

I'm thirty-fucking-eight years old I should not be having this problem. Yet, here I was and it felt like there was absolutely nothing I could do to just fix whatever was messed up in my brain.

Because that was the only explanation right? There had to be something wrong with me. I wasn't normal by any means. What real point was there for me to be around again? Oh right. There wasn't.

Sighing I carefully hung my shirt up and climbed under the shower. The water hitting my new wound had me hissing again. As much as I wanted to see some actual wounds on my body with as much pain as I felt I hated to get hurt.

It literally made no sense to me. I didn't want pain though. I was already in enough pain. When it came down to it I wanted to be able to see that there was a real cause of my pain. Not just for myself either, but for everyone else that questioned me. I wanted them to see proof that I wasn't just making all of this up in my head.

Except that I was. Wasn't I? All of this was just some stupid thing in my head that no one seemed to really have any answers to. It was all just so tiring. I just wanted all of this to be over and done with. I wanted to be okay again.

I honestly have no idea how long I ended up standing under the water, but soon I was wrapping a towel around my waist and walking into my bedroom. Looking at my bed I thought about getting changed into something, but decided that took too much energy and climbed under the covers with the towel on instead.

That night I found myself lucky enough not to have any dreams or at least not to remember any of them. It wasn't that my dreams were awful or anything. In truth, they were usually very nice dreams. Which made waking up to this hell all that much harder to do.

By the time I did wake up though I found myself not even able to talk myself into getting out of bed. I knew that I had a big meeting today that I couldn't afford to miss, but I just couldn't bring myself to care about any of it.

Sighing I turned on my side and curled up into a ball staring at my alarm clock. I had ten minutes to get to work before I was officially considered late. Considering just the drive there would take about half an hour there was no way I was going to make it.

I ended up laying there staring at the numbers pass until my phone started ringing almost half an hour later. Still, I didn't get up. Suddenly it was almost an hour later and there was someone pounding on my door yelling my name.

Everything in me was telling me that if I laid in bed ignoring the person for long enough they'd end up leaving. They were only here because I was late to work and they needed me to do figure something out at the GNB. It wouldn't take long for them to find someone else to do my job.

My phone started to ring once more causing me to curl tighter in on myself. I wanted it to be quiet. Why couldn't everything just stop for a few hours? Why couldn't everyone just forget I existed? They never had a problem with it before.

Frustrated tears gathered in my eyes the noises basically taking over my head completely. Soft pleas fell from my lips while my fists started to hit my head. Anything to make all the noise just stop!

I was so caught up in my own mind that I didn't notice the knocking or the phone stop not did I notice someone walk through my house and into my bedroom. It wasn't until someone laid behind me and wrapped their arms around me.

My whole body froze at that. No one was supposed to know how weak I was. Hell no one was supposed to have a key to my apartment. Well, except for…Turning my head slowly I saw my older brother staring back at me sadly.

Spinning around completely I buried my face in the older mans chest and started to sob. His arms tightened around me a second later his chest rumbling letting me know he was talking, but I didn't hear a word of it.

The tears slowly came to a stop leaving me sniffling into my brothers now wet shirt. I pulled away from him until he finally let me go and rolled onto my back feeling more than a little numb.

"Don't Barney," James spoke when I finally opened my mouth, "Don't even think of blowing this off."

"I wasn't going to," I whispered closing my eyes tightly.

"What happened? I thought you were doing okay now."

"I was okay."

"Then what? Did the pills stop working? Did Dr. Taylor change your prescription?"

"How wrong is it that for me to be 'okay' I need pills?"

James shook his head and settled onto his back leaving the room completely quiet. I couldn't help but laugh slightly at that. This was way too much like it had been when I first started therapy.

There were a lot of nights that I'd end up laying in my bed not being able to sleep. I'd toss and turn and all those stupid little thoughts would just get louder and louder until I found myself reaching for one of my blades.

All of them were gone though. Dr. Taylor had actually gone through my room and the bathroom with both my Mom and James. They took everything that I used to harm myself and then took extra steps to make sure I couldn't get my hands on anything new.

On nights like that I'd end up sitting on my bed staring into the darkness. I don't really know how he knew or if he just checked on me every night, but it was never long after that when my brother would walked into my room and climb in bed next to me.

He never said a word when he came in, he didn't even touch me until I touched him first. By the end of the night I ended up curled in a ball with my head on his chest with, at least, three hours of sleep under my belt.

"You're sick, Barney," James said softly, "I know that it sucks and you hate it, but you're sick."

"No one will actually believe that," I argued, "There's no proof."

"Proof? You want proof? You do realize that I wasn't the one knocking on your door, right? That was Ted. He was also the one calling you. He was worried about you."

Biting my lower lip I shook my head and pulled away from James completely. I don't know why I hadn't thought of Ted, but it wasn't like that truly mattered when push came to shove.

People never reacted well when they found out that I took pills. If I lost Ted… Yeah, that was not a line of thought that I really wanted to go down now or at any point in time. Ever.

"Why Ted?" James questioned suddenly.

"What?" I asked confused.

"You said 'If I lost Ted…'. Why did you mention Ted and not Marshall or Lily or Robin? Why is Ted different?"

I opened my mouth to say explain myself only to shut it again. I had never voiced these thoughts before, but it was too my brother and he was gay. If anyone understood it would be him.

It was hard though. After I figured out just how much Ted actually meant to me, I really wasn't happy the day I figured that out, I knew I had to let him go. He wanted a wife and two kids and I'd never be able to give him that. No matter how willing I'd be.

"It's okay to like Ted, Barney," James calmly said.

"I know that," I glared at him.

"So the problem is?"

"He's straight?"

"Like you're straight? Any other 'reasons'?"

"His wife and two kids."

"When did he get married and have kids?"

"He doesn't have them yet. He wants them. He's doing everything he can to find 'The One'. He has a house that he's fixing up for them to live in one day, James! That's why no one knows I love him."

"Love him?"

My eyes widened when I realized what exactly I said. Reaching down I started to scratch at my forearm once more only to pull back when pain suddenly shot through my body.

With slow movements James took my hands in his and turned so he could see the damage I'd done to myself. A soft sound came from him as he brought me into the bathroom and sat me down.

Looking down at myself I realized that I was still just in a towel. It was surprising it had actually stayed around my waist. It didn't really matter though. He had seen me like this before. Back when he thought he had to check to see if I had harmed myself while he wasn't next to me.

"The pills help," James almost pleaded, "I don't want to lose my brother because he's being stubborn."

"How about because he's just fucked up?" I whispered not looking up at him.

James dropped to his knees in front of me and pulled me into a hug. Any fight in me was gone as I let him once again hold me tightly before pulling back to bandage my arm.

"I'm not losing my brother to himself," James spoke firmly.

Nodding my head I wondered if that was true or if he had already lost me. It made more sense than anything else that had been said. I was already lost and bringing everyone around me down.

"Stop thinking," James chastised, "You're going to be fine, Barney."

"How do you know that?" I wondered finally looking him in the eye.

"Because I'm here. Because you have Dr. Taylor. Because you're going to have your friends."

Shaking my head quickly I pulled away from my brother and went into my closet. My entire body was shaking while my breathing was starting to become erratic as I tugged on a suit.

There was no chance that I was ever going to tell any of my friends. I thought James understood that. Everyone would walk away from me if they knew just how crazy I really was.

Behind me James was pleadingly trying to convince me of something or another, but all I could think of was getting the hell out of the apartment and getting away from him.

With precision that came from years of practice and doing it drunk I got in my suit perfectly and started to make my way to the front door. Walking into the living room I froze seeing a head of brown spiky hair on my couch.

Ted turned around worry clear in his eyes. I fell backwards into the wall as he stood up the edges of my sight going dark. Instantly James was on one side while Ted was on the other.

Shutting my eyes tightly I started to shake my head hoping that this was all just some bad dream and when I opened them both Ted and James wouldn't be in my living room. None of this would be real.

My body was moved forward for a second before I was brought back on a warm, solid mass. I had no idea what was going on until I started to hear something over the blood rushing in my ears.

"That's right, Barney," a voice soothed, "Just follow my breathing. You're okay. Everything is okay. That's right. You're doing amazing, Barney. In…And out. Again. In…And out. Good. Keep going."

I continued listening to the voice until I felt like I hadn't just run from California to New York. My whole body slumped against whatever it was behind me. It was then I realized it was a person.

I started to tense up only to have a hand reach up and start massaging at my scalp as the calming voice continued. It was only when I literally felt so drained I thought I was going to fall asleep that to hand and voice stopped.

"You ready to get up, Barney?" the voice questioned softly letting me know that it really was Ted comforting me.

"Yeah," I breathed though I didn't move.

The three of us sat there in silence until James reached over and slowly helped me to my feet. My whole body ached as I staggered to my couch falling down as soon as I was within reach.

"This isn't the flu, is it, Barney?" Ted asked sitting in front of me.

Shaking my head I stared at his legs waiting for him to leave. Instead the brunette moved so his back was leaning against the couch with his legs out in front of him like it was any other day.

"So, Marshall and Lily decided that…" Ted started his voice still in that calming tone.

"What are you doing, Ted?" I questioned before he could get far.

"Telling you what you missed last night."

"I know that, but…Why? Why aren't you asking me what's going on?"

"Do you really want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Then I won't ask. I trust you to tell me what's going on when you're ready."

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath wondering what I had done to have Ted in my life. He was a good guy and looking back I knew that most of the bad things he did was because of me.

He deserved to have a wonderful life and I was completely messing that up. It was one of the reasons why it took me so long to convince him to do some random stupid shit that I tried to get him to do.

"Barney," James shook his head, "Stop thinking."

"Kind of hard," I rolled my eyes.

"You could say what you're thinking. It might help."

"Or destroy everything."

Ted looked between my brother and I the worry growing, but he didn't say anything. James wasn't going to let this go. He wanted me to tell people that there was something wrong with me so they could look after me as well.

"I'm not going to ask," Ted spoke his eyes landing on me, "But are you…Are you okay, Barney?"

A laugh erupted from me at those words. How was I supposed to tell Ted just how messed up I was? It wasn't like he was going to believe me anyway. I really wished that he was just another person I wanted to bang and I could spin some story that both of us knew was fake and neither of us cared.

"Depression is a bitch, isn't it?" I laughed sadly.

"Depression?" Ted asked confused.

"Or something like that. I…Dr. Taylor used to say all these other title, depression, bi-polar, a few others, but I never really paid attention. It wasn't like they really mattered. The only thing that I really knew was there was something wrong with me and the only thing that ever made everything easier to deal with were some damn pills. Which I stopped taking before I met you."

"If they were helping, why'd you stop?"

"Really? Do you want to be that guy, Ted? The one that can't even handle his own mind?"

Ted spun around so he was kneeling in front of me the worry now mixed with a little anger. I knew that it wasn't directed at me, but I really hated having that look fixed on me.

The brunette seemed to realize that because he let out a sigh his eyes becoming softer. Reaching forward he laced a hand with mine and gave it a small reassuring squeezed.

"There's nothing wrong with mental illness, Barney," Ted said firmly.

"Of course there is," I whined pulling away, "I'm so completely fucked up."

"You're not 'fucked up'. You're sick, yes, but not 'fucked up'."

"Ted…"

"Listen to me, Barney. There is nothing wrong with having a mental illness. It's like any other illness and I'm not going to let you pretend that there is."

Staring at Ted I waited for him to start laughing or leave, but he surprised me by smiling slightly. He actually believed what he was saying. Besides James he was the only one that did.

I couldn't stop the slight smile from coming to my lips at that. I wasn't going to lose Ted because of this. How could I have ended up being so wrong about everything that I believed it?

"I have another appointment with Dr. Taylor next week," I cleared my throat, "He might…He probably end up putting me back on the pills in a few months at least."

"Not sooner?" James asked confused, "Can't he just put you back on the ones you were on before?"

"No, he has to reevaluate me. I've grown up and medicine as changed. It won't be like last time."

"Okay. We'll deal with that. Anything else you want to tell us?"

Looking up at my brother I saw him quickly glance down at Ted before looking back up. I knew what he wanted me to tell the brunette, but things seemed to be getting on the right path.

"No," I shook my head while sitting up, "Nothing. I'm hungry. You guys in?"