Ok, so here is what I have been working on, I promise that I have been working on it and still am. Best wishes to you all!

I slowly wake up to the sound of distant yelling, to be more accurate, the sound of Phil's distant yelling. This confuses me for a moment, why would he be yelling? Then I hear him say, "after the things that you told Dan, I really don't believe that you should be able to continue your practice. Do you not understand just how freaking wrong you were?"

Then it all clicks into place, he is yelling at Dr. Turner. For me. He never yells, ever. That's one of his little things, he hates yelling, and right now he is yelling at somebody who wronged me. Because he cares. He actually cares about what other people have done to me. I mean, I knew this before, but it is an entirely other thing to see, or in this case hear, proof of it happening instead of someone just telling you that they care. Many people will say that they care, but when things are going wrong for you people usually tent to prove that they only cared about what you could do for them.

"No- it's not- Will you just shut the hell up for one bloody second!" Phil yells, "how can you even try to defend what you said to him. No, I wasn't asking for an answer. - Look, I don't care what you have to say at this point. I have already talked to Dan's doctor about switching therapist and he completely agrees with me, you shouldn't be aloud anywhere near Dan. I am also going to report you for insensitive behavior towards someone who had literally just gotten out of hospital for trying to kill himself. Do you see where you were wrong yet? Hopefully they fire you so nobody else will have the chance of going through what Dan just had to go through, but in the meantime we are going to get him a new therapist and he will never, I repeat, never have to hear a word from you again. Do you understand? And just to let you know again, what you did was wrong, so fuck you. Goodbye."

I hear him give a slightly exasperated sigh, toss his phone on something that sounded soft, probably the sofa, and begin to make his way towards the kitchen. I figure now is as good of time as any to let him know that I'm awake and heard his conversation, so I get up.

As I do I see a note on the bedside table. I love you. That's all it says, but it's enough to put a smile on my face.

I slowly and quietly make my way to where he's standing trying to figure out just what I'm going to say. He's still deep in though over something when I reach the kitchen and wrap my arms around his waist. At first he's slightly startled, but quickly realizes that it's just me and relaxes in my grasp, laying his arms above my own rested on his stomach.

"Thank you. For caring, I mean, I know that you do.. It's just.. nice to be reassured I guess. I really means a lot to me. I don't deserve someone as good as you," I say, slightly letting some of my inner, darker emotions seep out.

"I did it for you, you deserve somebody that will stick up for you. In fact you deserve so much more than you think you do, you're fantastic and I'm happy love you," he tells me as he leans back into my grasp.

"I love you too Phil," I say as I kiss the side of his head and rest my own against his, "I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. I wish I didn't have these scars, I wish I could just fix everything that was wrong with me, I wish that you didn't have to deal with it all. I'm sorry."

"Hey," he says turning his head to look at me, "You don't have to be sorry to me. This isn't your fault. And as far as these scars of yours go.." He turns his head back and holds my forearm in his hands. Slowly he lifts it up and kisses the still bandaged wrist before saying, "I wish you never had been put in the situation where you felt like you had to make these, but they don't bother me... Well they do in the sense that I wish that didn't have to feel that way, but not seeing them. You don't have to hide yourself or be ashamed around me. I love you for you, scars included. I just hope that you get to the point where you don't feel like you need to make any more of them, I hate seeing you suffer my love."

"Thank you."

He nods and wraps my arm back around him. He seems to go back into his mind. I wonder what he's thinking? Most likely something along the lines of how I came to be this way.

We stay there for a while before Phil shakes himself out of his thoughts and offers to make me some pancakes before we "get to work". I give him a questioning look, but he just says that he'll tell me later. I accept the pancakes, obviously, they are always delicious. After we eat, with only the slightest bit of flour on each other from an almost all-out flour fight, he takes me to the sofa and brings out a piece of paper with some names scribbled on it.

"Ok, so I talked to your doctor and told him about what happened. He gave me a couple of other therapists for us to look at so that you could pick one," he says to me while he hands me the paper.

"Do I have to? Really? I don't want to deal with anything like that again," I say, trying to put on some pleading looking eyes.

"Yes," Phil says, "you know you do. It's part of the agreement, remember?"

I sigh, "yes, I remember.. So what are my options here? Do they have websites?"

"Ya, they do."

"Ok then," I say while picking up the laptop on the coffee table, "here we go."

A few minutes of searching through the bullshit later I find one person that seems like they are not completely careless.

"Dr. Alex Gaskarth," I announce, "he seems good. In his bio he talks about dealing with a panic disorder, that he was born in Essex, then moved to the US at a young age, then came back here after uni. At least I know he will have some practical knowledge and it doesn't seem like he's lying. And he's even willing to put that information out there, that's a good sign I think."

"If he sounds good to you then I approve as well, would you like me to ring and make an appointment?" Phil asks me while looking over his bio himself.

"That should be fine. I'm actually a bit tired still, I blame the pancakes. I think I'll take a nap on the sofa if you get out of the way," I joke, "or, you know, you could join me? I always sleep better when you're near me," I say, dropping the joking tone to my voice.

He give me a slight laugh and smiles, "of course I'll join you. Just let me ring this doctor and I'll be right there with you, love."

He stands, pauses, reaches down and cups my cheek with one hand then lightly kisses the other before walking back to the kitchen with his phone. To make it a bit more comfortable for us I get up and go back to our bedroom to lay down and wait for him.

I wasn't kidding when I said that I was tired, the second my head hit's the pillow I find it more and more difficult to keep my eyes open. The last thing I remember before falling into a comfortable, dreamless sleep is an arm wrapping around my waist and Phil whispering, "sleep well my love," into my ear as he lays his head on the pillow behind my own and curls into me.

There it is, sorry that it's a bit short, it was a filler, an important on, but still a filler.