Tossing and turning.

Thrashing.

Kicking.

Screaming and crying.

"Detective Halstead!"

They were coming for him. One had a taser. Another had a baton. A third held a syringe.

"Detective Halstead!"

"No!" Jay yelled back this time. "No! Stay away from me!"

But they continued to get closer and closer.

"We're just going to give you something to calm you down, sir." The one with the syringe said as he got even closer, needle ready.

Suddenly he felt arms grab him and he opened his eyes letting out the loudest cry he'd ever heard from himself, causing everyone to let go immediately.

Jay looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was in a room. It wasn't his barracks in Afghanistan, that was for sure. This room was clean and organized. "Med." he whispered under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" One nurse asked, drawing his attention to her. That was a mistake as she was the one still holding the needle.

Immediately Jay pulled his knees to his chest after blocking himself as best he could with a pillow. "Get that away from me." He said seriously.

"It's just to help you relax." She replied, calmly. "It won't hurt you."

"No!" Jay said again, though this time a bit more forceful. "You're already holding me here against my will. You aren't going to drug me too."

"Can you tell me your name?" Another nurse asked, coming up beside the one with the syringe.

"Jay Halstead." He replied. "I'm 36 years old. I live in Chicago, Illinois. I'm a detective for the Chicago Police Department. I served in the Rangers before that. I have an older brother named Will Halstead. He's a doctor in the ED. Both my parents are dead. And I'm in the loony bin because I had a flashback and hurt my friends. Good?"

"He's lucid." The needle-less nurse commented. "He doesn't need to be medicated. You can go."

The nurse with the syringe turned and walked out, looking almost disappointed that she didn't get to jab him.

Jay looked to the other nurse thankfully.

"So, what happened?" She asked, pulling up a chair beside the bed, brushing her key black hair from her eyes.

Jay looked at the door where two other male nurses stood. "They necessary?" He asked.

The lady smiled sympathetically. "Standard security measures after a patient has an episode. Just ignore them. They aren't listening. Just there if they're needed."

Jay nodded, but still scooted up with his back flat against the wall so no one could sneak up behind him.

"I'm Loretta. I'm a nurse practitioner here." She said, extending her hand in a gesture of good faith.

Jay shook her hand hesitantly. "Nice to meet you."

"So, Jay, I can see that you're okay now. But clearly you weren't a little bit ago. Can you tell me what was going on?" She asked.

"Nightmare." Jay mumbled.

"And are nightmares a common thing for you?"

Jay nodded.

"How often do you think you have them?"

"A few times a week." Jay shrugged. He knew that was a gross underestimate, but he was afraid to admit that he had them every single night.

"I see. And are they about anything specific?"

Jay thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. "Sometimes they're about things that have happened to me in the past. Sometimes they're things that have never happened. Sometimes I just wake up in a panic and I'm not really sure why."

"What would you say is the most common?"

"Maybe the last one?" He replied with a bit of hesitation in his voice. "The first two happened a lot when I first came home from Afghanistan, but now they only really happen when I'm exposed to something that makes me think about that a lot. I wake up panicked for no reason regularly."

"And does that ever happen to you during the day?" She asked, curious.

Jay was confused. "A nightmare when I'm awake? Isn't that what a flashback is?"

The NP laughed. "Yes." She replied, "but that requires the visual element. What I'm asking is if you ever have the panic you get from the nightmares or flashbacks, without actually 'seeing' anything."

"Oh." Jay was quiet for a moment while he pondered that. He had times where he would get scared, but usually something scary was happening. Then he remembered something. "Actually yeah. For the last few months anytime my friends would ask me to go out with them, I'd suddenly feel sick to my stomach and my heart would start to race. I felt like I was about to pass out. But then I'd go home and relax for a bit and feel better. I'd never really thought about it, but it is the same feeling I get during a flashback. My mind just doesn't go anywhere else."

She smiled and nodded at this breakthrough. "That's what we call an emotional flashback." She informed him. "It's when your emotions suddenly mimic the ones you felt during a time of trauma, even when no trauma is currently happening. It can happen in soldiers or cops with PTSD, but it's more common in people with childhood trauma. It's not in the DSM, but we usually refer to it as complex-PTSD."

"But I don't have any childhood traumas." Jay replied, a little taken aback by the suggestion.

"Are you sure about that?" She asked.

"Pretty sure."

"Your parents always got along? No abuse or neglect?"

"No." Jay insisted. "I mean, my dad was tough but never abusive. My mom was a saint."

Noticing that the direction the conversation was headed in was making her patient distressed, she held up a hand in surrender and lowered her voice. "I apologize, detective. I'm sure your parents did the best they could and provided you with the greatest life possible. I'm sorry for insinuating anything other than that."

Jay just nodded, allowing himself to calm down. "No apology necessary." He forced. "You were just asking a question. I shouldn't have been so defensive. I think I'm just tired."

The woman looked at her watch and laughed. "Well, it is 3 AM so that would be understandable. If you're feeling better, I'll let you get back to sleep."

"Thanks." Jay said, tucking himself back under the cover and watching as she left. He started to consider her suggestion again. Had their dad been too hard on them? Was he worse than normal dads? He'd met a lot of mean dads, but that didn't necessarily mean they were abusing their kids. He thought about the stories Hailey had shared about the nights her dad would come home drunk and angry. He was abusive. There was no question about that… No. Never at any point was Pat Halstead abusive towards his mom, Will, or him. Jay was sure about that.

A few hours later, when the sun was up, Jay woke again to a knock on the door. It was yet another nurse with a tray of food. "Breakfast?" She offered.

Jay had refused to eat all day yesterday, but today he was starved. He gratefully took the tray and lifted the lid. Immediately he was hit with the smell of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and a couple pieces of bacon. In a cup with a lid was black coffee, and beside it a couple packets of sugar and creamer. "Thank you." He said as the nurse left the room.

As Jay ate, another knock arrived at the door and Dr. Charles walked in.

"Hey, how are you feeling this morning?" He asked, pulling up a chair.

"I'm okay. Tired." Jay admitted. "I assume you already heard about last night?"

"I heard there were some things that may have come up for you, but I didn't get any details. I figured I'd let you explain." The doctor replied.

Jay immediately relaxed at this information. If Dr. Charles didn't know details about last night, he didn't know about the suggestion that his dad may have abused him. That was a relief because Jay didn't want to talk about that anymore. It felt so pointless when there were real things for them to cover. "The nurse practitioner lady," Jay started. "She mentioned that I could be having emotional flashbacks when I'm sleeping. Feeling the anxiety I normally get during a panic attack, except my mind doesn't go anywhere like in a normal flashback."

"Is that something that sounds like a possibility to you?" He asked.

"I guess so." Jay shrugged. "Is it possible to have them with PTSD from war?"

Dr. Charles nodded. "Oh, absolutely. Emotional flashbacks often stick with us longer and happen more often than visual ones do. Most of the time, when someone with PTSD has a panic attack that seems to come out of nowhere, it usually stems from an emotional flashback."

Jay nodded in relief. "Can we stop them?" He asked.

"We can certainly try." Dr. Charles replied. "The hope is that by dealing with the traumas you experienced, the flashbacks will become less and less. Some people experience complete resolution. Some have it mostly resolved. It's very dependent on the individual and their unique experience."

Jay nodded and then sat quietly, unsure of what else to say.

Dr. Charles allowed a few minutes of silence, incase anything else needed to come up. But when nothing did, he moved on. "So, Jay, during our last session we ended in kind of an interesting place. You seemed to be having a flashback involving your mom, but when I asked you about it later you said you didn't remember. I'm wondering if anything from that has come back to you since then."

Jay pondered that. "Sort of." He replied. "I mean, I don't know that it's all that significant. I remember being in the hospital and waking up to my mom sitting beside me."

"And was your mom still alive at that point?"

"Yeah." Jay answered quickly. "Yeah, I wasn't hallucinating. She was there. She was sick, but she was there. You can ask Will."

The doctor smiled at the young man's determination. "I already did. He told me the same thing. Said your mom died soon after, but that she was alive when you first arrived home."

"My dad asked my commander to have me flown home instead of to the hospital in England. I don't know how he convinced them, but he did somehow. I don't remember any of that though. I just remember being at camp in a ton of pain and then being in the hospital at home."

"Your dad sounds like a pretty cool man. I was sorry I didn't really get to know him while he was a patient here."

Jay chuckled. "It's probably for the best. He wouldn't have taken nicely to talking with a shrink. No offense."

This made Dr. Charles laugh as well. "None taken. Yeah, I gathered he wasn't really a 'talk about your feelings' kind of guy. Maybe that's where you got it from?"

"And Will." Jay added. "Sure, he has that compassionate side that he has to have for his job. But don't let him fool you. He does not like to talk about his feelings either."

"You know, believe it or not I have figured that out. But a little secret I've learned over the last couple decades in this field - everyone wants to talk. Maybe not outwardly, but on some level we all want to be heard, validated, and understood. Even Will and you and your dad."

Jay shrugged. "Maybe so."

"So, you were in the hospital and your mom was with you. What did that mean to you to have her there?" Dr. Charles asked, redirecting the conversation.

Jay sighed. "I mean, it meant everything. I don't know anyone that doesn't want their mom by their side when they're not feeling well."

"Is that something you've struggled with since she passed?"

"What? Not having her around when I'm not feeling well?" Jay clarified.

The doctor just nodded.

"Of course." Jay admitted. "I mean if it's really bad I'll call Will and ask him for help. And he's great at playing 'mother hen' when he needs to, but it's obviously not the same as it was with mom."

"Yeah, there's something special about a mom. Do you think it's possible for anyone else to offer a similar level of support?"

"Not that I've met." Jay answered. "I was married once, but that wasn't anything serious and we weren't together long enough for anything to happen like that. Then I was with Erin for a while, but that was mainly me trying to help her. I wasn't really getting hurt all that much at that time. My current partner, Hailey, she's seen me through a few injuries. She's helpful for sure. And it's different having her there instead of Will. But I still wouldn't say it's the same as my mom."

"Do you think that's the type of relationship that would give you that similar level of support?" The man inquired.

Jay shrugged. "I don't know where else you would get it from."

"Okay." The doctor said. "Let's go with that then. Let's say a wife - or a partner of any sort - was the one to offer you unconditional love and support no matter what. Is that something you've experienced in a relationship so far?"

"I don't know."

"You mentioned being married. What happened there?"

Jay laughed at the memory. "I wouldn't even consider it a marriage. It was a Vegas wedding thing. It ended before anything was even official. We hardly knew each other. Still don't. A few years ago, she came back, saying she'd never actually filed for divorce and we were technically still legally married. She said she wanted to try it, but I was with Erin so I turned her down."

"And you loved Erin?"

He smiled a sad sort of smile and dropped his head. "More than I've ever loved anyone in my life."

"So, what happened?"

"She left." He scoffed. "She took a job with the FBI in New York. Left without even telling me. Haven't talked to her since."

"Oh wow." Dr. Charles eyes grew wide with interest. "That must have hurt pretty bad."

Jay just nodded.

"And since then, have you seen anyone else?"

"I dated around. There was one girl I really liked, but it was all based on a lie and it blew up in my face. I'm not really allowed to talk about it. Otherwise, nothing serious."

"Mmhmmm, and you mentioned your current partner..."

"Hailey."

"That's right, Hailey. Are you two?"

"No." Jay cut him off before he could finish the question. "No, we aren't. We're just good friends and partners. In this field, being partners is a serious commitment. You literally have each other's backs in life and death situations daily. So, we're close."

"You trust her?"

"I have to." Jay laughed.

"Is that hard?"

"Not professionally."

"What about personally?"

"Well, we have boundaries that keep those things separate. We're there for each other, but we aren't together, ya know? Like, if we weren't partners at work, we probably wouldn't be hanging out. That sort of thing."

"Ah, so if you were to break both your legs and you weren't able to get yourself to the bathroom, you'd call...?"

"Will." Jay replied without a second thought. "I sure as hell wouldn't call Hailey to help me get to the bathroom."

This made them both laugh.

"Fair enough." Dr. Charles chuckled. "Okay, so no mom, no girlfriend and a partner that is only a partner..."

"Way to rub it in."

"Sorry, man." The doctor apologized for his bluntness. "I'm just trying to establish what your support system looks like. Who do you talk to when you have a bad day? Who do you call when you lock your keys in the car and need a ride home? Who's by your side when things are dark?"

Jay pondered the question. "Well, usually if I have a bad day I just go home and have a beer. Sometimes Hailey comes over, but we don't talk. We just drink and then she leaves. Or I leave, depending on whose place we're at. If I locked my keys in the car, I'd call a locksmith to get them out, but also, I'm a cop. I know how to break into a car if I need to. So really, I wouldn't call anyone. As far as when things get dark... well..." his face grew somber as he dropped his head in shame. "This is pretty dark, and I'm here with you. So clearly I don't really have anyone."

"Hmmm..." Dr. Charles said. "Who brought you here?"

"Will." Jay replied simply.

"So, you talked to Will about how you felt?"

Jay shook his head. "No, Will broke into my apartment and found me passed out in a puddle of vomit. I didn't tell him anything until later. I still haven't..." he stopped himself, hoping the doctor didn't catch his slip.

Luckily for him, Dr. Charles seemed to breeze right over it. "So, if you didn't call Will, how did he know to go to your apartment? I assume he wouldn't normally break in unless he had a reason to be concerned."

"Hailey called him, I guess. She wanted to know how I was, and assumed I was with Will. So, Will tried to call me, and when I didn't answer that's when he showed up. Him and Natalie."

"So, Hailey was worried about you it sounds like."

"I guess. I told you though, we're partners. It's her job to make sure I don't die. It's my job to make sure she doesn't... guess I kinda screwed that one up." His voice cracked at just the thought.

"Why do you say that?"

"I hurt her."

Dr. Charles looked skeptical. "On purpose?"

"No!" Jay immediately insisted.

"Detective, let me ask you something - because this is not my area of expertise. It's probably more of a question for a lawyer, but I'm sure you can answer. Let's say we have 3 different guys. The first guy packs a gun in his car, meets up with someone he knows will be there, and kills them. The second guy is walking home when someone mugs him. He turns around and stabs the guy with his pocketknife before running away. The mugger dies. The third guy is hanging out with his friend, and they're a little drunk. They start pushing each other around, playfully, and the friend falls off the edge of the curb, hits his head on a rock, and dies. In all three cases, a murder took place, correct?"

Jay just nods, waiting to see where this goes.

"If you were charging them with murder, would they all get the same sentence?"

Jay shook his head. "Of course not."

The doctor pretends to look shocked. "But why? All three of them killed someone. That's murder. Why wouldn't they all be charged the same?"

Jay sighed, starting to get the picture now. "There are three degrees of murder. Planning and killing someone on purpose is worse than killing someone suddenly in a blind rage or in self-defense. And they're both much worse than killing someone by accident."

"Would they all do prison time?"

"Yeah." Jay replied. "But the first guy would probably get life. The second and third may only get a few years."

"Why?"

Jay laughed. "Because the first guy knew exactly what he was doing when he did it. The second didn't plan it, he just acted. And the third wasn't even angry. He never meant to hurt anyone."

"Ah, so intent matters?"

"Of course, it does."

The older man smiled. "Did you intend to hurt anyone?"

"No, but I did. And like I said, even the third guy would serve some length of time." Jay replied.

Dr. Charles looked around. "It's not exactly a prison cell, but you definitely didn't choose to be here. I'd say this counts as doing time."

Jay shrugged. "I guess."

"Do you think you deserve to go to prison for what you did?" He asked, honestly.

Jay was silent and dropped his head. The truth was, he didn't know what he deserved. One second he felt like he was being unfailingly punished for something completely out of his control. And the next second he was ready to lock himself up in a cell for the rest of his life.

"Let me ask that in a different way." Dr. Charles offered, noticing the struggle he had with that question. "Are you willing to allow something like this to ever happen again going forward?"

"Absolutely not." Jay answered easily.

"And do you still plan on being a detective when you walk out of here?"

That was harder. "I hope so."

"If I handed you your badge and your gun right now and sent you back to work, would you go?"

It took a moment. "No." Jay whispered.

"Why not?"

"I don't trust myself with them." He admitted.

"Ah, so how can we fix that?"

Jay shrugged. "I don't know. That's not my area of expertise." He replied, using the doctor's own words against him.

Dr. Charles smiled and nodded. "Well technically your 72-hour hold is up tomorrow afternoon. After that it becomes your decision if you want to stay or go. I know you've been antsy to get out of here, but I'm wondering how comfortable you really feel walking out those doors at this point."

Jay gulped. "I want to leave." He stated first, deciding that was the most important thing to establish. "And I want to go back to work eventually, but I don't think I'm ready yet."

"Okay."

"Is there a way we can keep working on things on an outpatient basis?"

"Absolutely." The doctor agreed. "We can set up sessions as often as you need them. You just come in and we can have a chat. No problem."

Jay smiled, relieved.

"But that brings us back to your support system. Earlier when you were telling me how Will found you, did I hear you say Natalie was with him?"

Jay nodded. "But she's his girlfriend. They live together. He was with her when they got the call, and she came because Will wanted her. It wasn't about me."

"You sure about that?" The man challenged.

"I mean, I guess technically it was about me. But whatever care she has towards me is fully because of Will. It's kinda that way with all of you here. I know it's your job to help whoever needs help, but the fact that I'm talking to you and not that other lady that was bugging me in the ED is because my brother works here. I don't see medical students. I see the top doctors in this hospital because Will insists. And you all do it because you care about Will. So, by association you care about me. And I'm fine with it. If anyone Will cared about ever ended up arrested, I'd absolutely do whatever I could to get them off. But it would be because my brother asked. Make sense?"

"Why do you think you feel the need to make it so clear to me that Natalie doesn't actually care about you? Or that Hailey only cares about your life because it's her job? I'm interested in hearing why you think Will cares about you."

"Because he's my brother."

"So again, it's an obligation? Tell me, Jay, why do you care about Will? Is it just because he's your brother? Or do you think you'd care about him even if you didn't share blood? Say you grew up together and had the same relationship you do now, the same memories, all that. You just have different parents. Would you care about him?"

"I guess he'd still be my best friend, even if we weren't brothers." Jay thought out loud.

"So, is it then possible that you don't just care about Will because he's your brother?"

"I guess."

"Would it be fair then to assume that maybe Will actually cares about you as a human regardless of family relations?"

Again, Jay just nodded slowly.

"And Hailey. If neither of you were cops and you saw her on the street being attacked, would you intervene?"

"Well yeah. I wouldn't just watch."

"Why not? She isn't your partner. That obligation is gone. You're both ordinary people now. Why help? Why risk getting hurt yourself to save someone if you don't have to?"

Again, Jay sighed as he figured out where this was going. "Because I care about her outside of work too, I guess."

"So then is it possible she feels the same towards you?"

"What's the point of this?" Jay finally asked, growing frustrated and tired of the game.

"Support system, man." Dr. Charles repeated patiently. "Is it hard for you to believe that there are people who actually care about you, regardless of if they have an obligation to?"

Jay shrugged. "I guess so, since I can't think of a damn person that would fit on that list."

"Hmm... what about your parents? Were they obligated to love you? I know that technically parents are supposed to love their children. But you and I have both seen plenty of situations where that's just not the case. So that leads me to believe that parents that show love to their kids actually do love them."

"What difference does it make if they did? They're both dead. It's not like they could help me now."

"Humor me." The man replied. "I'd love to hear a little more about your mom. What was she like? Was she the 'stay at home, bake cookies' mom? Or the 'classroom mom?' Or did she work?"

"She worked." Jay replied quickly. She was a teacher. She taught everything from kindergarten through middle school. Always stayed away from high school. She used to tell Will and me that we'd be lucky if she even liked us as teenagers." Jay chuckled at the memory. "She was strong. She had to be, being married to my dad and raising two boys. But she was sweet, compassionate, always standing up for the little guy and doing whatever she could to help. To this day, whenever I work a case involving children, I think of her and how she would want to protect them."

"Wow, she sounds like a pretty neat lady."

Jay smiled. "Yeah."

"You must miss her a lot."

He just nodded.

"When you saw her yesterday in your flashback, where were you?"

Jay glanced up; his forehead furrowed. "I told you. In the hospital."

"Yeah, yeah I got that part. But you're also in the hospital right now. So, I'm wondering what hospital you were at. Did they bring you to Med when you got home?"

"No, the VA. And my mom was treated at Rush. So, it was probably one of those I was remembering."

"Probably?" He questioned.

"I..." Jay paused to consider his words. "I'm not sure. I just heard her talking to me. Telling me I'd be okay."

"What would it mean to you to have her here right now to tell you that?"

The room went silent as Jay sat with the idea. What would it mean to have his mom by his side right now? Was he serious? What kind of a question was that? It would mean everything to have her there, but what did that matter? It's not like it would bring her back.

"Let me rephrase." The doctor offered. "How much did it mean to you to see your mom in that flashback?"

"I don't really remember." Jay confessed. "I've seen a lot of people that have died during dreams or flashbacks. It's nice in the moment, but then after it hurts worse. So, it's not great."

"And which weighs more? The good or the pain?"

"What?"

"Alcohol. You have a hard day. You get drinks with friends. The drinks numb you, so you feel better, but it's temporary. The next morning you have a headache and your nauseous. Was the relief before worth the pain after?"

"Rarely." Jay laughed.

"Yet people do it over and over and over again. Why?"

"I don't know..." Jay answered. "Maybe they're lying about if it's worth it or not. Maybe they really are in so much pain that they'd rather deal with the hangover later if it means the emotional pain disappears. Oh shit..." it clicked. "Am I addicted to my flashbacks?!"

"Well, you see that's not really a question I can answer for you. Tell me though, is there any part of them that protects you?"

"Uhm... I mean... not that I can think of. They're mostly a pain in the ass."

Dr. Charles nodded, but remained silent to allow Jay to think.

"They're just replays of being in the Rangers, getting kidnapped, watching my mom die... wait, I see them." A distant stare took over Jay's face.

"You still with me, buddy?" Dr. Charles asked, cautiously laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I need Will." Jay whispered.

"Jay, you're safe here. You can talk to me. Stay with me."

"I need Will." He repeated.

"Listen Jay, I hear you. But I'd really like to see if we can get through this just you and I."

Jay felt his chest tighten as beads of sweat began to drip down his forehead. The world was closing in. He was losing control, and he needed Will. He was the only one who could ground him.

"In through your nose. Out through your mouth." The doctor coached, breaking through the dark blur overtaking his patient.

"I need Will or I'll... I'll see..." Jay stuttered, and the psychiatrist caught on to this rare opportunity that was being presented to him. Jay was caught in between a flashback and reality. This was his best chance to get the clearest idea of what exactly was going on in his head. So, he asked, "Jay, can you tell me what you see?"

"I didn't see it. It was buried. I tried to save them. Mac. David. Jun."

"Were they in the military with you?"

Jay just nodded and continued. "I got Mouse. There was so much blood. My skin was on fire." He stopped and shook his head, as if trying to shake off the memories. "Will?"

"Jay, listen to me. I'll make sure Will comes by to see you today, but right now I need you to tell me if there's anyone else you see." The doctor assured the agitated man.

"No. Will. Dad. Mom. They... they're all... gone." He was crying now, shaking.

"Jay, are you still with me?"

"I need to help them." He tried to stand, but Dr. Charles stood first and firmly gripped his shoulders.

"Jay, you don't need to save anyone right now. Everyone is fine. Do you see anyone else?"

But Jay was gone. Totally wrapped up in the flashback. A nurse entered, a syringe filled and ready, but the doctor waved her off. "Just page Dr. Halstead."

The nurse nodded and left the two men alone in the room.

Will arrived moments later and busted through the door.

Jay was standing in a corner, face against the wall, racked with sobs.

Will looked to Dr. Charles who quickly explained the situation. "We were doing alright. He was having a hard time but was able to keep himself out of the flashback for quite a while. I'm impressed. He mentioned seeing a few of his military buddies and your parents. Then the flashback took over and this is where we're at."

Will nodded and slowly approached Jay. "Hey, brother." He said softly. "It's me. It's Will. Can you look at me, please?"

Jay didn't respond other than his breathing slowing just a bit.

"Jay, you saved Mouse. He's okay. Mom and dad are gone. You're in Chicago at the hospital with me. I'm with you."

Slowly Jay began to turn around. As soon as he saw his brothers face, he sunk to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

Will sat down in front of him, holding onto his shoulders tightly. "Hey, I'm right here. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise. Just breathe."

Jay leaned forward and grabbed onto Will's scrub top. Pulling himself closer, he rested his head on his big brothers' shoulder and allowed him to offer comfort. "I tried to help." He whispered through sobs.

"Shhh, I know." Will whispered back. "I know, buddy." He rubbed small circles on his sweaty back. "Hey, can you feel me rubbing your back?" He asked. No response, so Will wrapped Jay's hand in his own. "Can you squeeze my hand?" Still nothing, so Will squeezed instead. "Can you hear the birds outside the window? And the cars going by?" Jay slowly nodded and Will smiled. "Good. And can you feel me rubbing your back?" He asked again. Another nod.

This routine continued for about an hour before the flashback was over and Jay was starting to come back to real life again.

"I'm sorry." His voice ashamed.

Both Dr. Charles and Will were sitting in front of him now, letting him sit on his bed. Will stayed quiet and allowed the more experienced doctor to speak.

"What are you sorry for?" He asked.

"For whatever that was. For freaking out." He turned to Will. "For pulling you away from work... again."

Will shook his head and switched to sitting on the bed beside Jay instead. "Hey, you are the most important person to me in this entire hospital. You don't need to apologize."

Jay wiped his nose and nodded, looking back to his doctor. "Did I screw everything up by having Will come?"

"Not at all." The doctor said confidently. "In fact, it was really helpful for me to see what works for you and what doesn't. A lot of times people will create their own coping skills even before they have a diagnosis. And instead of creating whole new ones, we can just pull from what is already established."

"So... what did you learn about mine?" Jay asked, feeling particularly fatigued as the post panic attack headache kicked in.

"Well, there were certain things that Will said and did that I picked up on. The first was that he told you exactly who he was and what he was doing before ever touching you or entering your space."

Will laughed. "It only took one black eye for me to figure that one out."

Dr. Charles smiled at the remark and continued. "Second, he repeated the same grounding questions until he got responses. We often teach patients the 5,4,3,2,1 method, but that takes a lot of practice to be able to do it on your own during a panic attack. The idea is that you name 5 things you see, 4 things you hear, 3 things you feel, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste. It helps ground you back into the present moment, and it's basically exactly what Will was doing."

"So how do we use that moving forward?" Will asked, his hand still on his brothers back.

"I want to spend the rest of today going over some different coping strategies. Then we'll talk about meds and how that'll all work."

"I can't take psych meds and be a cop." Jay interrupted.

"Says who?" Dr. Charles asked.

"I have to be mentally stable." He replied as if it were obvious.

"Which the meds will make possible." The doctor reasoned.

Jay looked to Will who looked to Dr. Charles, then back at Jay. "He's right, ya know."

Jay dropped his head and sighed.

"Well, I should probably let you two get back to work. Remember, I'm close if you need me. But I doubt you will. You got this." Will said as he stood.

Jay stood with him and gave him a hug. "Thanks man."

"Anytime." Will replied. "I'll stop by before I leave for the night."

Dr. Charles nodded his approval and watched as the red head disappeared out the door.

"Alright, I'll give you a little break and come check in again in a bit." Dr. Charles said.

"Thanks."

Will entered the room to a grinning Maggie and a slightly uncomfortable Natalie.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Oh, hey." Natalie said as she turned to face him. "How's Jay?"

"He's hanging in there." Will said, looking around and then curiously to Maggie. "Why are you so happy?" He asked.

"Puppies!" She almost sang.

"Therapy dogs." Natalie elaborated.

"Ah..." he laughed as he rubbed Natalie's back. "They have to pass a lot of obedience classes before they're allowed to be therapy dogs. They won't bite you. You're good."

"Yeah, Nat. They're here to make people feel less anxious. Let them do their job." Maggie teased.

Will smiled and then a thought hit him. "Maggie, where are the dogs going?"

"All the inpatient peds rooms as far as I know - except PICU." She replied, typing something into her computer.

"Are they going to psych?"

She looked over her screen. "I'm not seeing that on the schedule for this visit. Maybe next week. They usually do sections."

"Do you think we could get them to make an exception for one patient?" He asked.

"You really think a therapy dog is going to help Jay?" She asked.

Will shrugged. "Kohl was able to calm him during a nightmare. Who knows what a therapy dog could do?"

Maggie smiled. "I'll ask around and see what I can arrange. No promises though."

"Thanks, Maggie!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah yeah, now back to work. We got sick people all over the place." She exaggerated, handing him a tablet.

"The nerve." Natalie laughed. "What do they think this is? A hospital?"

Author's Note: Between work and school now, I will probably only be able to update on weekends. BUT I've been writing a lot this week whenever I have a free second, so as long as I can actually get a chance to sit down and edit, I should be able to stick to every weekend.