"I saved you some dinner," Linda said quietly as she parked the car back in front of his dad's house. "After you eat, maybe we could go for a walk, get some sunshine."

He shook his head. "Not hungry. Besides, I need to do my homework." He didn't want to, but Doc was gonna stop working with him if he didn't.

"Homework can wait. You need to eat something, Danny. All you had was coffee before Mass, and you hardly touched your dinner. Please, Danny!"

He couldn't stand the fear in her voice, so he drank the entire bottle of Gatorade, ate the salad, and choked down six bites of roast beef.

Then he rinsed his plate, jammed it in the dishwasher. He was heading for the stairs (and, he hoped, peace and quiet) when she said quietly, "If we go for a quick walk now, we'll catch the sunset."

He stopped with his hand on the banisters. "It's cold." He was whining, but he hated being cold—thanks to too many nights on patrol in Fallujah.

"You didn't hate the cold before…your tours."

He shuddered. "It…gets really cold in the desert at night."

She came up beside him, put her arm around his waist. "I can help warm you up when we get back," she said suggestively. "Come on, Doc still wants you to get sunshine."

He muttered under his breath, but got his coat and hat, and followed her down the street.

She slipped her hand into his. "Where's your head at, Danny?"

He shook his head. "I'm tired of talking. Can we not?"

She squeezed his hand. "Of course. But I'm here, Danny. Okay?"

He nodded, and they walked down to the pier his dad liked to fish from.

When they got there, he leaned on the railing, stared down at the water. He flinched when she slipped her arm around his waist. "I'm not going to jump," he muttered.

"Danny!" Her voice was thick with tears, and he cursed. All he was doing was hurting his family.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "That was…"

She rubbed his back. "No, I…I'm glad you told me that. I…think I needed to hear that. Why are you so angry, Danny?"

"Too many people giving me advice. I can't even tell you anyone what's going through my head without you or Dad or Jamie or Erin getting emotional or defensive or angry! Maybe I just…need someone to listen."

"I'm sorry, Danny. I'm listening."

"Padre said I would know I had healed when I could look back on my time in Fallujah without having a flashback, but being grateful I'm alive." He scoffed. "Not sure what there is to be grateful for."

"You're alive, Danny. Think of all the people you've helped in the nine years you've been home, the kids you've saved, the victims you've gotten justice for, the bad guys you've put away. Plenty of reason there for you to be alive."

She meant every word she said, he knew that. It just didn't mean anything to him.

He shook his head, leaned more heavily on the railing. The water was rushing to meet him and he swayed, stepped back in fear. "No, no…"

"What's wrong?"

"Dizzy."

"Come sit down."

He followed her to the picnic table, sat down, leaned his head in his hands. Tears were pricking his eyes, and he cursed. "I'm scared, Linda. Just now…I was dizzy and the water was rushing up to meet me and I couldn't stop thinking that I should just climb the railing and jump. I've told Doc so, so much, and it hasn't even…touched the pain. Can…can we go home now?"

She nodded, stood up, pulled him to his feet. "Yes. It's okay. You're okay, Danny. Let's go home."

By the time they made it home, he was shaking—and it wasn't just from the cold. He took his blasted pills, and didn't argue when Linda suggested that she had a few ideas to warm him up.

It was 9 p.m. and completely dark when he sat down at the kitchen table, armed with his homework and two pens. He ached for his gun and two fingers of whiskey, but neither one was available.

His father and grandfather sat in companionable silence in the sitting room, respectively reading and doing a crossword puzzle. He relaxed just a bit when neither one wandered into the kitchen with a flimsy excuse. Linda had probably told them to leave him alone—while not leaving him alone, which meant they were keeping an eye on him.

He unfolded the paper Doc had given him yesterday. "Lies Depression Tells Me." The first three were already there, with space for him to fill in more. And Doc, dammitall, wanted three more.

I don't deserve other people worrying about me.

I don't deserve to be alive.

I will always feel depressed.

He cursed as he filled in the next few lines.

Jonesy and the others are dead because of me.

My family would be happier without me.

I don't deserve to be happy.

The problem was, he wasn't really sure those were lies. He was just writing them down so he could tell Doc he'd done his f-g homework.

Then he turned to the next page. The words "REASONS TO KEEP LIVING" blurred before his eyes, and he cursed. He couldn't even make up anything to get Doc off his back.

My family needs me? he thought, and shook his head. That wasn't gonna be good enough for Doc. Doc kept telling him he needed to find a reason apart from his family. Problem was, if it weren't for his family, he'd be in the same place Michael Oates had been—homeless, murdered, and buried. He cursed.

He knew all the platitudes Doc wanted him to spout off. Life would get better, he wouldn't always be depressed. Blah, blah, blah.

He heard someone clear his throat, and he jumped. "Easy, Danny, it's just me."

It was his dad. "Hey."

"How you doing? You've been in here a while."

He frowned, glanced at the microwave. 10 p.m. already? "This was supposed to take me twenty minutes, max."

"Can I help?"

He shook his head. "Doc wants me to do this myself."

"Well, what are you having trouble with?" his dad asked, sitting down.

He slid the paper over to him. His dad read it, but didn't say anything.

He shook his head. He was so tired he felt like he was going to cry, but he wouldn't let himself be that weak. "Doc wants these to be dependent on, like, me seeing that I have reasons in and of myself to keep living. Problem is…" He trailed off, shook his head.

"What about the reasons Doc doesn't want? Give me one reason that you think Doc wouldn't accept."

He shrugged. "My family needs me."

"We do. Maybe Doc won't accept that, but I think that's a pretty damn good reason, Danny. What do you think Doc would want you to put down?"

"O, B.S. crap like 'life will get better if I stay alive.'"

"It's true, Danny."

"Dad, I'm so f-g angry of feeling like this! Nothing's working! Talking isn't working, the pills aren't working, leaning on my family isn't working…what if…I can't…?"

"Danny…"—his dad's voice was strangled—"healing takes time. You didn't get in this situation overnight, and it's not gonna heal overnight. If I could take this from you, bear it for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't. So what do you need me to do?"

"Stop talking and play a game of darts without me before I punch a hole in the wall?"

"Sure thing."

After the game—which he lost—he headed for the stairs. "Thanks, Dad. 'Night."

When he got into the bedroom, Linda was in the bathroom, and he walked over to the window, stared out into the blackness.

Linda found him staring out the window, and she slipped her arm around his waist. "Come sit down, talk to me, Danny. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay," he yelled. "I shouldn't be here! I should be dead! I don't deserve to be alive! I don't deserve this family!"

Danny took a turn around the room. He was shaking with anger, and she felt a stirring of fear.

He paced so long she was getting dizzy watching him; then his knees buckled and he sank to the ground.

She dropped to her knees beside him. He was shaking, but there were no tears. He flinched away from her. "Leave me alone; I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me, Danny."

She put her arm around his shoulders, bit her lip when he flinched again. "Do you trust me?"

He nodded.

"Then listen to me, Danny. You asked me last night not to leave you, and I'm not going anywhere. I need you to trust me. I know you're angry, but I also know you won't hurt me."

"Linda, I'm so f-g angry I can't see straight! I hate this! Twenty minutes ago, I thought I was gonna cry, now I'm so blasted angry! I hate this!" He shook his head, cursed vehemently.

"Then use that anger to fight the depression," she said, and rubbed his shoulders.

"I don't know how," he whispered.

"I don't know what Doc would say, but talk back to those thoughts, the voice in your head that tells you you're worthless. Tell it it's a blasted liar. Tell it to go die in a God-forsaken hole. Tell it you deserve better."

"I don't deserve you."

"None of that, Danny. I need you just as much as you need me. I'm not going anywhere, Danny. If you need me to be your strength, to remind you that you are loved and you are lovable—I can do that. If you need to lean on me because you can't stand—that's what I'm here for. If you need me to pull you out from under the water—all you have to do is ask."

"I'm so—"

She covered his lips with her own, not letting him finish. When she pulled away, she looked him in the eyes, ran her hand down his cheek. "No more apologies, Danny. We're in this together—remember our vows? 'For better or worse,' and maybe this is the worse, but we'll get through it—together. Tell me what you need."

He let out a shaky breath. "I can't do this alone," he whispered.

"No one's asking you to, Danny. Did the Corps teach you to fight alone, solo, without a team, without backup?"

He shook his head, unsure where she was going.

"Did the NYPD send you out on the streets alone? Or did you have a partner?"

"Partner," he whispered. Damn, had anyone talked to Baez? Did she know how f-d in the head he was?

"Then why do you think you have to fight this alone?"

"Because it's not fair to any of you to have to sit here and watch while I drown!" he burst out, tears stinging his eyes. "I don't want to pull you under with me!"

She took his face in her hands. "Danny, I'm safe on dry land. And I will throw you a life-jacket and a rope to pull you to shore. And I promise you, you won't pull me under with you."

Because you're stronger than me, he thought, and looked away.

But she gently turned his face back to face her, kissed him. "It's not because I'm stronger than you, it's because I can see the goodness and the beauty and the future and the joy that are still ahead of you and that you will find your way back to. Right now, you're having a hard time seeing all this…but it's there, I promise. But you have to keep fighting the waves, babe."

He swallowed hard. "I…I need you to not leave me alone, no matter how much I curse and complain. I don't trust myself right now."

"I can do that, Danny."

She stood up, pulled him to his feet. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

He nodded, and hoped it wouldn't be another sleepless night…