Big thanks to my betas Sherry and Paige for their help on this chapter! You girls are so amazing!

"When you're weary, feeling small

When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all

I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough

And friends just can't be found

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down."

-Simon & Garfunkel-

EPOV:

The waiting room is suffocating. Neutral colors, empty chairs, and paperwork make me want to run for the door. The tension in my body is amplified, due to the fact that I'm the only person in the room other than the older woman behind the reception desk. I can't believe I am doing this, and I can't believe I'm so nervous. As the older woman calls my name, I hand her my paperwork, and she directs me toward an elevator.

With my heart in my throat, I ascend to the third floor. The elevator opens to a stark white hallway lined with different offices. There is something so impersonal about it and I feel even more uncomfortable. Dr. Howell's office is at the very end, by a lone window. I stare at his nameplate on the door, planning my introduction in my head. "I'm fine, really. Never been better."

Finally, I press the doorbell by his nameplate, and try to pull myself together. It doesn't take long for him to answer, and I stop my fidgeting. He is a short man, stout, with strong and severe features. He appears sturdy, reliable. When he introduces himself, his voice is strong and unassuming. I move into his office, seeing that it looks nothing like I imagined a psychologist's office to look like. There isn't a couch I'm meant to lay on, but a few chairs surrounding a table, and a desk with his degrees plastered above it. There are a few windows and plants, but nothing that eases my nerves.

"Sit down," he says, gesturing toward the seat across from him.

I wasn't aware that I was still standing. He asks me general questions about why I came to see him, and I realize that I'm not willing to open up much. I don't like talking about myself. I never really have to do it. Anyone I've disappointed, has already accepted me for the fuck-up I am, and they haven't bothered to ask me about why I am that way. Truly, I wouldn't even know the answer.

"Do you feel on stage since you have returned?"

I shrug my shoulders, not understanding his question.

"Does anyone act nervous around you? Like you're a particularly dangerous character? You stated in your paperwork that you have had some trouble with drug and alcohol abuse."

"Yes, I suppose so. My mom is always watching me...waiting for me to fuck up. But, I've changed since then. I had to."

Dr. Howell nods his head in understanding, "She believes you will turn to drugs and alcohol again?"

I give him a curt nod and sit up a bit straighter in my seat. "She suspects I will, but I've been clean since I've returned home."

"Have you considered seeking help in a group? You have stated that you weren't an alcoholic, but you explained that you abused it for years. I think an AA meeting would be beneficial."

I don't know how I would stand a group of people talking about their issues. I want to pretend that I'm not like them. I was able to stop, and I haven't relapsed. "Maybe," I finally say, unable to commit to the idea.

"Your brother died recently?"

I nod, happy to shift the conversation to something else. "He died a little over three months ago, along with his wife, Kate. They wanted me to take care of their son, so I have been ever since his funeral."

"Do you like caring for the boy?"

"Yes, I love Charlie," just saying his name calms me down. "It's been difficult though. I've turned my whole life around for this baby, and I always feel as though I am lacking. I work full-time to have money for us to survive on, but it has always felt like an uphill battle. It doesn't help that I have a mother who is waiting for me to fail." I stop, finding myself rambling.

"Have you received any sort of compensation? Charlie is entitled to benefits, and I assume his parents would have left something behind."

I stare at Howell, feeling foolish all of the sudden. Why didn't I think of this on my own? What he has proposed never occurred to me, and I feel ashamed. We are suffering due to my stupidity.

"I haven't looked into it," I mutter quietly.

Howell nods his head, and there isn't a trace of judgement on his face. "So, what can I do for you Edward. What do you want to get out of our sessions?"

I think for a moment, unable to put into words what I want, because I barely know myself. "I want to feel that I am in control. I've never felt in control of anything."

"That's difficult," Howell says without apology, "Control can be a difficult thing for us to work on Edward. I won't lie to you. How about we start with appointments twice a week?"

Twice a week? I can't possibly need that."I have a full-time job and Charlie to care for…"

"Well, you can bring Charlie with you, if need be," he states with a wave of his hand.

"I don't know, I think once a week could be sufficient."

He studies me for a moment, before agreeing. "I don't know if we can work on control, seeing each other only once a week, but if that's what you feel comfortable with, then that's what we'll do."

I leave his office, just as unsure of myself as I was when I went in. I feel strange talking about my problems with a doctor. I have always wanted to deal with everything on my own. I thought I had the strength to do so, thought I was capable of moving past what it was that troubled me. But, when I think about what has plagued me in the past, I realize that I never actually dealt with anything. I always had a means of escaping my problem, and never did I face anything head on.

I drive home in silence. I don't know why I feel worse all of the sudden, but I do. When I return home to find Bella on the couch with Charlie in her arms, I forget about what was troubling me. Sitting down next to my girl, I place a kiss on her forehead and rest my head on her shoulder, completely exhausted.

"How did it go?"

I stare at Charlie, who is just as animated as usual, and allow him to pull my thumb into his mouth to gnaw on.

"It was fine," I answer, my voice neutral and my face blank.

"Consults are usually weird," she explains, "but I'm sure you will find the appointments helpful. I know I did. My dad took me to the consultation, and I remember hating it. I didn't want to talk at all. But by the second appointment, I was finally able to open up. Do you like the doctor?"

I shrug, "I'm not sure yet. He seems fine though, from what I could tell." I'm exhausted mentally and don't want to talk about this. I just want to forget about my problems for a while. "I was thinking we could do something on my day off this week?"

"What were you thinking?"

"We could go on a picnic, maybe go to the pumpkin patch nearby?" I suggest, after a good half hour of looking for ideas on the internet this morning.

"That sounds great," she approves, "I would do anything with you."

I would do anything with you.I can't begin to describe how these words make me feel.

A/N: It's good that Edward is finally receiving help. I've had depression since I was around nine years old, and saying that it is difficult would be a big understatement. Seeking help is definitely a scary thing, but it's hard to imagine where you would be without it. Getting really into art, definitely helped me a lot, and now that I'm writing, it helps even more. Depression can be hard, because you never really imagine a future for yourself. I guess, what I am getting at, is never be afraid to reach out to someone suffering with depression. You never know the impact you might have on that person.

Like always, enjoy your day, and have a beautiful week. :)

Song- "Bridge over Troubled Water" by Simon & Garfunkel