I'm not noticing I should've put a TW in the last chapter my apologies but also for this chapter so...

TW: mentions of Drugs and drug use and panic attacks

Being in the hospital speaking with Dr. Williams their emotions ran haywire as they listened to him call him off injury after injury. Then as if life hadn't already sent a herd for them to be trampled under, they now have a meeting to attend after the next two weeks with Dr. Williams, a physical therapist, and a child psychologist. The tension between them is thick, it makes Jill more still than usual. Her nails drag along the seatbelt that's secured around her waist. If she didn't know her husband, she'd probably be able to ignore this oh-so-subtle change in demeanor. She can almost hear the gears turning in his head. Idly, his finger taps against the steering wheel, which is normally annoying when the ride is quiet, but she lets him because she's not sure what he's feeling now.

He'd been a distraught mess back at the hospital, they both were. Now she's not exactly what he's feeling, but she doesn't want to push him and tries to give him whatever it is he needs right now. She glances over at the mirror attached to the door, her eyes are rimmed red, and her cheeks are still flushed but not as much as they were back at the hospital. She fiddles with the wrinkled piece of paper the doctor gave them which holds no purpose since they'll be back a lot sooner than later. She feels unsettled as she looks out the window watching every building and tree pass by. Her arms, legs, and fingers are still trembling from the adrenaline of the day. It all happened so quickly that neither of them had the time to sit and process; to talk to each other.

Tim tends to sometimes drive with one hand on the steering wheel while the other…. wanders sometimes. But his right sits on the armrest and she's glad for that. Her left glided over his, working against the trembling in her hands and interlocking their fingers. He flashes his eyes to her quickly and only for a brief few seconds until they're back on the road. Then, she sees that he wants to talk, that he's just holding it together until they're home and he has her to hold him that everything is going to be okay. His thumb strokes over the skin of her hand. He's learned over the many years how the simplest touches of her could soothe him.

She doesn't bother doing much when they get back. She tosses her bag on her little desk then they're both heading upstairs. He waited for her first, stood at the foot of the step as she dropped her bag and hung up her coat. He reaches for her as they move upstairs, his hand grasping hers tightly.

He slouches when he sits on the edge of the bed. His body hung over with his hands rubbing into his forehead, his hair tossed and hanging low. Tim runs his fingers through his hair, strands sticking up in every other direction.

It's late now, they didn't even notice how long they've been at the hospital. The shun of sunlight beams through the window settling on their carpet. The shining from the setting sun makes their bedroom glow.

She kicks off her shoes and changes into something more comfortable. When she steps out, she meets with her husband bent over, still and the sight of it jabs at her heart. She moves over to him and places her hands on his shoulders, pressing light at first as if she's about to give him a massage. The force of her thumbs brings him to look up at her.

His orbs of bright blue are again surrounded by pink even darker than it was before. The back of her hand wipes at the cool tears that fall and sit against the heat of his cheeks. On the other hand, she does the same for herself. She doesn't think she'd ever stop trying really.

Their eyes are connected in the deafening silence of the room. For a while, she stands while he sits not saying anything at all, but they understand. She feels for him and knows how hard it is and he knows it's the same for her.

It isn't often she sees Tim like this even though she pushes him to tell her how he's feeling. She tries her best to get him to communicate his feelings when something is wrong. She can't count the number of times she's told Tim that it wouldn't kill him to wear his heart on his sleeves. Over the years he has progressed and sometimes he just refuses to.

Years ago, he'd just walk out the door to play basketball to avoid talking about Mr. Binford's death, and God she's known how much that must have hurt him. But this is one of their kids. Their youngest son they are trying to hold onto as long as possible until it's also his time to leave the nest. Their son whom they had to see purple and blue with a cast on his body. He was supposed to be back home fine, excited to tell them how much fun he had or how good the movie they watched was. But they've received a different set of news, they're aware of what their little boy has been doing and it hurts both that they could be so blind to it.

"You want to talk?" She asks him her left hand running her fingertip along the short hair at the back of his head, her right stroking his cheeks as she looks down at him with the faintest smile.

"I- I just don't understand Jill." He says, burying his face into her stomach for a second, then letting the side of his head rest there for a while.

"I know" Her hand moves higher to the top of his head playing with his wild hair. She holds him close to her listening to his steady breathing, but she can still tell he's thinking.

Then, suddenly, not with much force but it's enough to surprise her. He pulls away and moves her away from him then heads out of their bedroom. He doesn't storm out, but he is sure as hell is moving fast it has her concerned. Her eyes catch him just as he turns straight into Mark's room. Jill follows behind him hurriedly and if she wasn't so drained from being grief-stricken, she'd be pissed.

He's already pulling out drawers and tossing clothes around.

"Tim, please don't do this. Not now. At least give him a chance to ex- . "He cuts her off.

"A chance to do what exactly, Jill? The kid already put himself in the hospital."

"He wasn't driving, Tim."

"No, but his friends were." His tone grew a little louder.

She stands in the doorway holding the bow of her robe close to her body. "Tim, please"

Her head hangs down low, she can't get herself to put up much of a fight. The tears in her eyes come fast, rolling down her cheek and then hitting the floor. She swallows a sob as she refuses to watch him. He's ignoring her soft plead and she feels like she is speaking into a vacant room.

"Tim, I get that you are upset I really do." She chokes out. "Imagine how I'm feeling, I'm a psychologist and I couldn't see it, but we can't do this to him, to us, we can't blame ourselves."

"But what if we can?" He shoots back at her.

"We can't." She takes a single step into the room as her voice cracks.

She shakes her head helplessly and Tim particularly dismantles the room. Her hands push her hair off her forehead. Suddenly a haircut looks very appealing.

The slam of the drawer startles her and causes her to jump. He hasn't found anything, but she stands shaking watching as pieces of her son's clothing are strewn about his bedroom.

His hands lift and move in a quick swipe underneath the mattress. Then he feels it. He ducks his head down to inspect what he feels. He hears the plastic before he grabs it. Holding it in his fist before he brings it to light.

It's one of those sandwich fold-top bags with some kind of pills he's sure is not aspirin. It isn't full but it's way too much.

"This, Jill?" He holds out the bag close enough for her to see. "This isn't nothing, Jill. Who knows what the hell this is and how long he's been taking it? It's probably what put him in the hospital." He stated as a matter of fact more angrily now.

She takes a second just trying to fathom how he could be so sad and worrying about his son's life to now turning his room upside and obviously angry and he hasn't noticed how much it's affecting her.

If she weren't trying so hard to hold herself together, he would visibly see her convulse and how much she was shaking. The restricting feeling in her throat is tight holding back tears until she just can't.

Her gasp is more than audible as she takes a step back. "I c- can't." She storms out and leaves him standing there as she heads back into the bedroom slamming the door behind her.

Almost immediately he regrets everything he's said and done over the past twenty minutes. He fists the bag once again as he looks at the mess he's made. His fingers ran through his hair realizing the shit he probably just put her through. The clothes that lie on the dresser he's quick in placing. He tries to be quick but neat, wanting to apologize, his rage being put at ease.

He's reminded of the time he'd caught, well found, the pocketknife Mark had stolen from Al and how he reacted. Now he feels a little disappointed in himself for getting angry instead of just sitting down and having a conversation that would end a whole lot differently than things are going now. Not with him buying flowers at the end of the day for his wife, having a talk with Wilson then talking over it with his kid about the shit he'd done.

He curses to himself as he drags his feet to their bedroom door hesitant to go in and see what state in wife is in. Whether it be sad or angry, either way, he knows he is in some kind of trouble.

"Jill?" Tim calls out and knocks as if the door was locked. He pressed his ear against the door and all he can really make out is what he thinks is stifling.

He sighs then calls out to her once more before slowly pushing the door open and what he sees is enough to bring him to his knees.

Her hands clutch so tightly at her robe her knuckles are nearly white. The cold air of the Michigan night cuts at his skin the second he steps into the room. Her cheeks burn a bright red he's not sure whether it's from her sobbing or the cold air. Her breath comes in heavy heaves as she struggles to take in another breath she pushes out as soon as it's in.

He can see her shaking as she sits on the ground, her back pressed between her nightstand and their bed. Her legs are pulled close to her chest and her chin rests on her knees. Even from where he's standing, he can see her tear-stained cheeks, most likely from the breeze that engulfs their bedroom with even gusts of wind. She struggled inwardly to stop it, but her sob became more uncontrollable.

He's quick in moving, shutting the window then settles beside his wife. Tears threatened to form and blur his vision, but he quickly blinked them away because all he wanted was to get to her. Looking at her he's so regretful of what he has done now thinking that maybe he caused this.

"Jill, honey?" He kneels beside her and takes her face in his hands trying to keep a calm tone even though the sight of her is tearing him apart. "Shhh" He attempts to soothe her but he's not exactly sure how to do that having never had to deal with a situation like this before.

" I ca-can't brea-" She hardly gets out.

Tim maneuvers himself to sit beside her with his legs stretched out then pulls her into his lap. The rattling in her chest from her cries vibrates against him. "Come on, Jill"

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her as close to him as humanly possible. She shakes her head to say no but he's not sure why. It's killing him to have her like this if he can just get her sobs to stop.

"Ok, Jill you got to breathe with me." His hands held her head so that she could look at him. She nods through the air that perpetually gets stuck in her throat.

"In…" He took a deep breath in and waited for her to do the same. "Out..."

He repeated the process as she followed right behind him. He reached into her robe and then settled his hands on her back wanting skin on skin hoping it would help her as well.

They kept breathing together and he kept up the soothing circles on her back until her breathing had somewhat evened out. She feels limp against him as he continues to hold her close. A hand had slid up gently resting at the nape of her neck as her head lays sluggishly on his shoulder.

She's cried, hyperventilated for so long that she feels weak to the bone, but she finds comfort and calmness in sitting here with him. She hasn't moved since he found her like this, too scared to move. But she takes him in, his arms around her body holding her, his breathing, the smell of him bringing her some form of peace. Her arm wraps around his sides the best she can. She breathes into his neck and the warmth of it all sends shivers down her spine.

It's almost pitch black but neither of them budges to move.

They stay there a while in complete silence until she hears him whisper "I'm sorry."

Review? Please I need them :)