A/N: Hat tip to reader JLMayer for the idea behind this chapter!

Alex Dawson was reading the latest Journal of Counseling Psychology when his phone rang.

He glanced at his watch.

At 10:30 p.m. on a Sunday, it had to be a patient in crisis.

He closed the journal. "Hello."

"Dr. Dawson, this is Frank Reagan. I'm sorry to call you so late."

"Don't worry about it, Frank, I'm a night owl. And an early bird." He chuckled to himself at the old joke, then sobered. "What's wrong?" he asked, standing up from his armchair to take a turn around his living room.

"I don't know how to help Danny. I've tried talking to him, but I don't think it's helping."

"What have you told him in the past couple of days?"

"That it was okay to lean on us, that life would get better, that healing would take time." He sighed. "And then I played a game of darts with him because he was tired of talking. I can't lose another son…and Danny's slipping away."

Alex went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. "I'm happy to give you some tips this once, but because of confidentiality, I cannot see you therapeutically. Do you have someone you could talk to?"

He drained the glass as Frank said, slowly, "If you mean professionally…I have seen someone a couple of times before, but I'm not very fond of the field of psychology; I don't have the patience for therapy. I just wanted some advice this once."

Alex nodded. Reagan stubbornness at work. At least Danny had overcome that enough to seek him out. Otherwise…he shuddered at the thought of where Danny would be.

"It might be something to consider, Frank. I can give you the names of some of my colleagues. But if you're not ready for a therapist—is there a close friend you could talk to—and I mean a friend, not one of your other children?"

"Some friends, of a sort, at work."

"Good. Are you taking care of yourself, Frank?"

The silence on the other end of the line answered that question.

Alex wandered back into the living room. "Are you eating well-balanced meals, sleeping, exercising, de-stressing?"

"I'm eating. I haven't been sleeping, because...whenever something's up with one of my kids, I get a touch of insomnia. I did go for a walk with my father early this morning. And it's hard to not be stressed when my suicidal son is in the house; I'm on edge constantly." He cleared his throat. "I didn't mean…"

"You're worried he's going to try to commit suicide again," Alex observed.

"Yes, I am," Frank said quietly.

Alex sighed. "I wish I could tell you that you didn't need to worry about that, but I won't lie to you. Not 72 hours after I talked him down from a roof. It is something you need to be aware of, and I'm glad you are aware of it—it will help you and the rest of your family to keep him safe. You can't help Danny if you don't take care of yourself, though, so do reach out to those friends."

He stopped in front of a bookcase, straightened a few books. "I know you'd mentioned taking some time off work these next two weeks?"

There was a murmur of voices in the background; they retreated, and Frank said, "Yes. I have to go in tomorrow for most of the day; but I'm trying to adjust my schedule so I can get home earlier, spend some time with Danny." He paused. "I'd give anything if I could take this from him, but I can't. How do I help him, Dr. Dawson?"

Alex returned to his chair. "The best thing you can do for Danny is listen when he wants to talk—and that's when he wants to talk; don't push him. Listen to his pain. Don't offer advice, don't tell him it'll get better, don't tell him it's okay, and do not tell him you know what he's going through. Dismissing his pain like that…will break his trust. I'm glad he asked you to play darts with him; try to spend time with him doing other things he enjoys."

"Thank you, Dr. Dawson. I should let you go. Good night. And…thank you for saving my boy's life."

He hung up, and Alex smiled to himself. Danny was beyond lucky to have such a supportive family.

He was just drifting off when his phone rang. Not again, he thought. "Hello?"

"Doc, it's Linda Reagan. I'm sorry to call you so late, but I had to wait till Danny was asleep. I didn't leave him alone, though; I'm sitting on the floor of our bathroom, so I can still see him."

That explained why she was whispering.

Linda sighed. "I guess he told you about his old chaplain. But the rest of the day…his emotions are all over the place, and he's in pain, and…he was so angry earlier he told me to leave because he was afraid he would hurt me. How do I help him?"

Alex sighed. Such a similar question to Frank's, and yet… "Listen to him—to his pain, to what he's not saying. Don't leave, even when he tries to push you away. Keep telling him that you love him, no matter what. Don't give him platitudes—don't tell him it's okay, don't tell him you know what he's going through."

He sighed, pinched the bridge o fhis nose. "If Danny agrees, I'd be willing to see both of you for some couples' sessions, but not yet. I think he still needs some one-on-one sessions until this immediate crisis has passed."

"Crisis?" Linda asked. "Do you still think he might…?"

She trailed off, and Alex nodded. "It's a possibility, especially after one suicide attempt. He might try something again—and you need to know that, need to be aware of that."

There was a stifled sob, and then Linda said, "Thanks, Doc. I should go. He's getting restless, and I want to wake him before he has a full-blown nightmare. Thanks."

She hung up, and Alex sat up. Why couldn't they have called at the same time? After two conversations about his favorite patient, he wasn't going to sleep for a while.

He padded into the kitchen to make himself some hot chocolate. Guess he had time to finish reading that article after all.