*Julia*

"You can't tell anyone. Not Nate, not James...." I say during my one-on-one session with Jeremy. Mike is still staring at my scratched-up arm but doesn't say anything.

"Jule, I have to. If I ever think a patient is in danger, he or she harms themself or others...." Jeremy pauses. "They need to be aware of these dreams so they know to wake you up. You don't ride this one out. You wake the patient up right away."

I stand up and stare angrily at the doctor.

"No. I'm saying no. Don't tell them. They're just gonna worry." I state sternly.

"It's my job. I'm sorry, I have -"

"This is why I didn't want to have this meeting in the first place! They're just gonna compare me to Eric Furgeson!" I spiral out, swipe the lamp right off Jeremy's desk and watch it fall to the ground. But it doesn't shatter, and I'm unsatisfied. Mike is the one to jump up and grab both my hands, shaking his head. 

"No," He whispers in my ear and wraps his arms around me to hug me. "You'll just get sedated. C'mon. Therapy session's over."

"Julia. The session's not over." Jeremy says when Mike walks me to the door.

"Yeah it is, fuckface." Mike scoffs and walks me out of the room.

******

*Nate*

"What the hell is going on?"

I can already tell by how puffy Julia's eyes are that she cried herself to sleep. She's lying on the couch in her apartment when James and I return from the session. She's asleep, but the sleeve of her sweatshirt is rolled up and has a white bandage on her arm. Maggie is lying on the floor in front of Julia. Paul is sitting on the couch with her legs over him, Mike Maloney is sitting on one recliner and fucking Jeremy Donovan on the other, like they are in deep conversation.

"She didn't show me her arm. I would have called you if she did." Paul continues like we're not in the room while Jeremy has this perplexed look on his face. Mike just looks like he may puke or something.

"What?" I ask again.

"He was just telling me about some Eric dude..." Mike looks up at me. 

"Furgeson. Yeah." I grab two kitchen chairs and pull them over for James and I to sit. Why the hell are they telling Mike about Eric Furgeson? Why the hell are they even talking about him in the first place and why the hell is Julia's arm have a bandage on it? These are the questions I need answered.

"Julia knows a lot about Eric Furgeson. We've previously talked about different signs...behaviors, feelings...different things to watch out for."

"Great." I huff. "What happened to her arm?"

Patience has never been a character trait of mine.

But then Jeremy tells me what he told Paul, what Jules told him in her therapy session. Her bad dream, the car accidents, the way she physically hurt herself in her sleep. Her suicidal thought- two nights in a row. James looks distraught hearing this and Maggie sits up now.

"I told you to look after her! To take care of her!" I bolt up and glare at Paul, making the dog bark. James pats his own leg and Maggie goes to her owner so he can pet her.

"And I did. How the hell was I supposed to know she tried pulling her fucking veins out in her sleep. I don't strip search her to see if she hurt herself." Paul retorts.

"You do if you need to god damn it. She did that in her sleep?" I look at the bandage and begin to pace the room. "Now I'm really gonna worry about her."

"Listen guys, that's exactly what she doesn't want. It's why she didn't tell you or want anyone in the room with her during therapy. She dragged Michael in there because she doesn't have a personal relationship with him. She knew this wouldn't affect him. I need to have open communication with Julia. If I don't, she's not going to tell me these things. And these are the things I need to know." Donovan explains. "She got herself so worked up over it she cried herself to exhaustion. I didn't want to give her any Ativan so.... yeah..." He looks at Julia and frowns.

"Good. She needs off that shit. No more injections. It fucks her up."

"Her head fucks her up Nate." Jeremy catches me off guard. He's heated. He's invested in Julia. The last thing he wants is to see her end up like Furgeson. "Right now, the only people she thinks knows about these bad dreams are Michael and Paul. Can we please keep it that way for now? She doesn't want you two to look at her differently or think she's going downhill."

"She IS going downhill!" James points out. "Having PTSD nightmares is one thing. But she's blaming herself for things that happened in the p-past. Her son's death. My car accident. You....you being you and fucking her up the way you did. Things she can't fucking change!"

Shit. Gallo's not holding back today. It's very rare to see James get mad but lately, I've seen him lose his shit more and more frequently. I don't know if I should be relieved the man actually has a bit of hot-headed emotions or concerned that all of this is too much for him. 

"You're the doctor. Figure your shit out." James adds, his face full of anger. "C'mon Mags."

James stands up and heads to the sliders, but poor Gallo can't unlock the door. "Someone fucking open the fucking door for me!" He spats and I scramble to my feet and let him and the dog outside, leaving the door open a little so he can slide it to get back inside. Last thing I need is Hulk breaking THIS glass door too.

"That right there," Jeremy throws his arm out. "That's exactly what Julia didn't want to happen. She doesn't want to stress James out. He can't handle any more stress. And you with your damn heart disease. She can't know you two know. I mean it, Nate."

"I swear, can we have one day- just one stress-free day?" I drag my hands down my face in frustration. Just one day, God. That's all I ask.  I look on the end table and see Julia's laptop.

"You know what?" I continue. "I'm looking up this Furgeson guy. I bet he had more going on in his life. I bet his wife was cheating or... I don't know...  maybe he got molested as a child or something. You just don't one day decide to hang yourself in your garage because you 'don't feel yourself.'" I grab Julia's laptop and sit at the kitchen table.

"Nate... Mental illness it's more than just 'not feeling yourself' and you know it." Jeremy makes his way to the kitchen table and sits across from me. Sure pal, make yourself at home. "You know this just from your little sister."

I don't respond to Jeremy. I don't respond because I'm too busy staring at Julia's laptop. I didn't even have to type in Eric Furgeson's name into the search bar. I didn't need to because Julia already has. Numerous times. I frown as I see that Julia has recently read article after article about the man who killed himself 5 years ago. A married man with three kids from Florida. A 41-year-old who once lived a normal life, held a normal job as a construction worker, didn't drink, do drugs and had very little trauma to his life. 

"Shit." I mumble to myself and pinch the ever-growing tension between my eyes. Paul looks over at me from the couch but doesn't get up. Julia's legs are resting over his lap and he doesn't want to wake her.  But fucking Donovan leans over and looks at the computer screen. When he sees all the pages and articles she pulled up a downcast look takes over his face.

"She's already convincing herself she's gonna end up like him." The doctor takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "She's doing her research on the guy so she knows what to expect."

******

*Julia*

Before I even open my eyes, I know who is laying against me on the couch. The intoxicating expensive cologne gets me every time. One of my many addictions. Nate. I don't need to open my eyes. I already feel safe in his arms so snuggle in a little more. My nose touches the stubble on his cheek, and I feel him smile against my lips.

"Hey doll." His minty breath hits my skin, and I open my eyes. Without a blink of an eye, he tucks a long brown lock of my hair behind my ear, still holding his gaze on me the entire time.

"Where is everyone?" I question but don't move, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

"Jonah and Casey came to visit. Casey is walking the dog outside somewhere and Jonah is in the cafeteria with Paul and James, taking advantage of the 'all you can eat buffet'."

I smile and close my eyes again. But then I remember. And also realize Nate's hand is stroking my arm, the bandaged one.

"He told you, that bastard." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, princess." That raised eyebrow emoji appears on his face. Nate smirks and kisses me so I can't speak.

"I'm not like him, Nate. That guy. I can't be like him." I turn away and bury my face in the crook of Nate's neck.

"Julia." He threads his fingers in my hair and moves his face close to my ear. "You are NOT Eric Furgeson." He kisses my ear and continues even as my emotions get the best of me and I tear up. "He fell through the cracks. He waited to get the help he needed. It was too late for him, remember? You have been getting help for a while now. Your doctor- as much of an awful human being he is- he's a genius for a doctor. He's been treating you and documenting everything right from the start to make sure you don't fall through the cracks."

Nate kisses my cheek and glances down at my arm but doesn't comment on the bandage.

"I feel like I'm some science project. Some experiment. If they get it wrong, I what- go off and kill myself and they find someone new to experiment on? Nate...those dreams...What I did to my arm for real..." My words trail off.

"I know, doll." Nate sniffs and holds me a little tighter. He knows. He knows if I don't get on the right meds.... if I don't get a handle on my mental illness, I'll be the next one strung up in a garage somewhere.

The day Nate purchased me the new laptop I started researching more on Eric Furgeson but came up with nothing. He was just an average man living his average life. Aside from his father dying of pancreatic cancer six months before his mental illness diagnosis, Eric was perfectly healthy. Then it all came crashing down. One mental illness after another. I'm anything but healthy. I'm a drug addicted 40-year-old with Atypical bipolar, OCD tendencies, mania and depression. I have PTSD and Night Terrors, as well as an eating disorder. Multiple things that work against each other. Feed off each other. Like Jeremy, a deadly combination. My combination is the exact same as Eric Furgeson's. How can I NOT think I'm going to end up like him?

I can't remember if I've been like this my whole life. I don't think I have. But trauma does shit to you, and I've had my fair share. Then, one day I come to Los Angeles and now, like Eric, I'm evaluated and suddenly diagnosed with all these medical things I never knew I had.

I may not be falling through the cracks, I may have people to catch me before I fall too deep into the hole, but where does this hole end? I've hit my rock bottom already. 

Is Jeremy going to catch me before I fall so deep I go off and fucking hang myself?

 Is that where it ends for me?

*****