A/N: Well, after watching the episode dealing with the suicide of Doug's mother, I was inspired to write this. It switches POV's, but it's fairly easy to follow. The title is taken from the song "Breaking Down" by Gina Nemo (AKA Dorothy). Reviews are love.

Though the phone kept ringing and shattered the eerie silence in the apartment, Doug Penhall never moved from his position on the couch. Yes, he reasoned with himself, he probably should have moved and answered, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew who was on the other end, and if he was honest with himself, it was someone he had no interest in speaking to.

"Doug, answer the phone. I know you're there."

Sure enough, Dorothy's voice filled the apartment, and Doug sighed to himself. There was a moment's silence as she waited to see if he would pick up. When he didn't, she continued.

"Douglas. Pick up the damn phone. I know you haven't been to work the last couple of days, and you aren't returning anyone's calls. Everyone is starting to get worried. Hanson's been on my case day and night."

Typical Dorothy. Everything was his fault. Nothing he ever did was enough for her. Yet, he loved her. Although why he loved her was unclear even to him at times. As she kept speaking, however, something in her voice changed, and his head snapped up.

"Doug…I'm worried about you too. Please call me. I need to know that you're alright. I love you."

Interesting. Very interesting. She actually sounded worried. Of course, she wasn't heartless, she was just very demanding. The phone began to ring again, and he sighed. Would she never give up? Still, he decided to let the machine answer.

"Hey, Penhall, it's Hanson. Dorothy just called me and said you didn't answer when she called. Again. She's really starting to get worried. She even came down to the chapel looking for you. Ioki and Hoffs are worried and so am I. If you don't want to talk to Dorothy, fine. But would you at least talk to me? I'm worried, man."

Penhall sighed and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. He wasn't ready to deal with anyone, though from the sound of it, Dorothy had been more worried than she was willing to let on. How amusing. After Walker had committed suicide, he had been thinking about the subject more and more. Not his own, certainly, but that of his mother. He had never truly forgiven her for what she'd done. The only people that knew were Hanson and of course Dorothy. No one though, not even Dorothy, understood how he felt, and he doubted that anyone ever would.

The phone rang again, and he plopped face down on the couch.

"Douglas! Pick. Up. The. Phone. Now."

He sighed, and reached over.

"Yes, Dorothy?"

"Doug! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dorothy."

"Good. Now…why haven't you answered my calls? Or Hanson's? Do you know how worried I've been?"

He sighed, and on the other end, he heard Dorothy do the same. He could almost see her rolling her eyes with that annoyed expression he had grown so accustomed to seeing.

"No, Dorothy, I don't. Why don't you tell me?"

"I went to every bar and fast food joint in town looking for you! I even went to the chapel searching for your sorry ass."

"I know. Tom told me."

"Hanson! You talk to Hanson, but you won't talk to me?"

"No. I didn't talk to him. He left a message."

Dorothy took a breath and Doug braced himself.

"When?"

"Today."

"Doug, you need to get back to work, you need to talk to me, you need—"

He slammed the receiver down, cutting off her voice, and buried his head in the pillows, hoping that when he woke in the morning, things would improve. Somehow, he doubted it.