Rocky was frozen in indecision. It was only thirty minutes before Chase's party and he was struggling to get ready. Nothing was good enough and everything was the wrong decision if he thought about it long enough. He needed to hurry up, Chase would be back from his mission soon. But his anxiety wouldn't let him breathe. Or take action without filling him with doubt.

All of its questions were unanswerable, not certainly answered with absolute certainty. Anxiety and uncertainty swarmed his insides like bees, buzzing in his head and stinging him when he failed to calm them down. Making it hard to think about anything else, let alone the party.

Would Chase even want me there? What will I wear? He looked down at the button up shirts spread out on his bed, picking at his fur with a paw while his eyes went back and forth between the options.

Green? Rocky was partial to the color himself but what if someone else wore that color? He sighed and hung the shirt back up in is closet. The options that were left were black and blue. Skye told him how handsome he looked in black, but he felt like he was dressing up for a funeral rather than a party. Wasn't black tied to depressive feelings? And what if he chose it, and he felt more depressed because of it? Skye would notice for sure, and she would worry. He couldn't bear to hurt her. And so he hung the black one up too. Blue it was.

Although. That was Chase's color. Would it upset him if he stole it? Stealing is wrong no matter what. The question is, how upset would it make him? It was his birthday and the last thing he needed was more stress.

Rocky hung that one up too and took the green shirt out again. This one was his favorite shirt, but he also wore it on the same week that he had a fight with Skye. He couldn't wear it because something bad was sure to happen.

Whimpering, Rocky crumpled up onto the bed as his chest buzzed and his head pounded, picking at the fur on his arm, one hair, two, three. . .and so on. With each new thought, meant one less intact hair. Yet his anxiety only grew, shadowing over him like a giant wave.

The thoughts faltered, the clouds parted for a second, as Skye entered the room and looked down at her shirt, slowly buttoning it and mumbling to herself. She stopped in front of their bed, and sighed to herself. The wave pounded him, as he saw the familiar look of worry in her eyes.

"What are you doing, baby, the party starts in half an hour. Can't you pick something to wear?" she cooed, placing a paw on his cheek.

Skye sat on the corner of the bed, softly stroking the fold in Rocky's ear as he agonized in silence. Rocky curled his body around Skye, fondling her hips and slowly melted their bodies together and hid his muzzle in her lap.

Skye snatched up Rocky's arm and inspected it diligently. She gave a disapproving huff.

"Baby, what did you do? look at your arm, there's practically a bald spot."

Shrugging off her paw, he sat up and rubbed his face. "It's not a big deal, really I'm fine."

Skye ran a paw through the tangles of his cheek fur.

"Are you sure you were honest with Dr. Edwards? Maybe you can call him back? You know he can only help you as much as you tell him."

"He already increased the dose of my meds, Skye, so no matter what else I tell him, it will only make things worse. I don't need more. I need less."

"You know they don't change how I feel about you," Skye said, rubbing his back gently. "I just want you to be happy, and if they help you feel better than I don't see why you wouldn't take them."

Rocky sighed, hanging his head and catching it with his paws. "Because it changes me. It changes how I feel." the words squeezed out of his throat. "I don't feel anything, Skye. I can't. It numbs me until I feel like a zombie. That's not living."

Skye turned so she was facing Rocky, her face saddened by his pessimism. "You know, I was talking with Dr. Edwards after you talked about everything, and he told me about the specialist. Again. He thinks it could really help you take back control. Maybe then you would be able to take less medication."

The covers moved as Rocky climbed underneath them. He hated this topic. It made him feel powerless to think about going to therapy for something like this. He was terrified and there were too many uncertainties around therapy, too many triggers. Wanting to remain in control and for-fitting his deepest and most embarrassing thoughts did not coincide. What if he hurt his therapist? What would they think of him? How badly would they judge him if he told them everything he was thinking?

"Baby?" Skye placed a paw on his shoulder. "You can't run away from this. And you told me you wanted to fight. This is how you do it."

Rocky cringed at this. "I promised you I would try. I am, it is just excruciating. Whenever I try and fight it, it only gets worse, the feelings, the discomfort, everything suffocates me."

"I just don't want you to lose control again. I told you I forgave you, but you have to forgive yourself. And part of that involves helping yourself get better," Skye said.

Of course it came to that. It was easy for her to say, but impossible to put into action. She believed in him but meanwhile he ruminated over every hazy memory of his egregious actions last winter, because he didn't believe in himself. No thought, no feeling or memory went unanalyzed as Rocky tried to come up with one redeeming action since everything, something to make the pit of guilt from growing larger in his gut. There was only so much Skye could do to reassure him, only so much she could forgive, while Rocky did all of the condemning for both of them. And with all of the noise and guilt, there was no room for forgiveness in his heart.

He was about to speak when there was a knock at the door. Skye opened the door revealing Everest, leaning against the door frame. She looked quite confused, worried. She looked like she needed to talk, like there was something wrong. He was good enough at reading her. How many times had she come looking for him with that face, seeking comfort? Countless.

"What's wrong, Everest?" Skye walked up to her and placed a paw on her shoulder.

"The mission, there was an accident." Her voice trembled.

"What? Are they ok?"

"Ryder and Chase are fine." She paused and bit her lip. "Chase caused the accident."

"What?" Rocky and Skye said together.

"The mission was triggering for him. Ryder said he lost control and hurt someone. I know he didn't mean to, and he will be on edge for the rest of the day, and that's why. . ." She looked between the two, "Rocky, I'm sorry, but I think it would be best if you didn't come to the party, for Chase's sake."

Skye sucked in a breath and Rocky winced, waiting for her to lose her temper and lash out, but nothing came other than a sigh, and a sad look in his direction.

"If you think that will be best for him. What do you think, baby?"

Rocky looked to his paws for answers but found none. "I . . .I understand, Everest."

"Thank you, I have a feeling he is taking this really hard, so I appreciate this." She looked over her shoulder, "Ok, I am going to go help finish setting up."

Rocky nodded his head in agreement and looked back down to his paws, silently letting out a sigh of relief as his anxiety melted away. Maybe it was better this way. He couldn't ruin anything that way, and Chase could salvage his birthday and enjoy it in peace. And he couldn't hurt anyone that way. Not again.