The door clicked shut behind Stella and Keith as they stumbled into her apartment. Keith placed the bag of takeout on her counter as she opened her refrigerator. "You can have your pick of water or coffee to drink. I have vegan mayo if you want something for your fries."

He wrinkled his nose. "That just sounds wrong. Water'd be fine."

"Your loss," she replied with a shrug. Stella took out her container of fries and dumped a generous helping onto them.

Keith took their food to the breakfast bar. She joined him with his requested glass of water and a mug of coffee for herself.

"So, the woman who broke your heart?" she asked just before taking a bite of the hot, salty fries.

"Shouldn't you go first?" Keith took a bite of his bacon burger.

Stella kept her eyes focused on the food in front of her. "If you want to wait until after I'm done eating? Sure." She eyed up a fry, the memories of what he wanted to talk about chasing themselves in circles. Her stomach tightened. "Or maybe not," she muttered pushing the white box away. The smell of salt took over and the all too familiar taste of bile rose. "Fuck," she placed her hands over her eyes. "Sorry. Just need a minute."

Leaning over, Keith wrapped an arm tight around her. "What can I do right now?"

She leaned her head against him, listening for his heartbeat. Unable to find it in her current position, she shifted. Briefly, she considered calling Howie. Then she remembered that he was in Oregon and he would come back on the next flight; there was no way she could keep everything that happened from him right now. Stella opened her mouth, to try to tell him what would work. Despite trying to get her mouth to work, all she found herself capable of was hyperventilating. She wrapped a hand around Keith's arm. Closing her eyes in an attempt to block out everything, she instead found herself in a run-down apartment in Strawberry Mansion.

The familiar beige walls stained with who knew what trapped her. The ever-present smell of mildew and alcohol reminded her that Stella would find her sprawled out on the sofa with at least one roll of foil nearby.

As Stella turned her head, preparing for the oncoming onslaught, she felt vibrations fill the air. The apartment started to shatter around her, falling away piece by piece. Unintelligible words filled her conscious as her head filled with the same vibrations. Opening her eyes, she saw the white granite countertops with her discarded fries. Keith still had her in a bear hug, his chest humming with the quiet song he was singing. Stella leaned against him, listening to the words rumble.

"What song was that?" she asked when he stopped.

He tangled his hand in her hair. "Bayu baushki bayu. My mom used to sing it to me when I was upset." Keith kissed the top of her head. "You okay now?"

Stella listened to his breathing, the familiar emptiness consuming her. Again she found herself wondering what okay really meant. Unable to decide what okay meant right now, she shrugged her shoulders. Two panic attacks before dinner probably did not count as anything close to alright. A shrill gasp escaped as she jerked her head up from the comfortable position she'd been in. "Fuck," she hissed as she darted to the other side of the counter.

The lavender pill case sat in the drawer, the pills it contained giggled at her. The part labeled Wednesday opened with a pop, the ten pills rested nice and snug inside. With practiced ease, Stella took out the Lamictal, Symbyax, and two Ativan. Coffee chased them down, ensuring that they made the path to her stomach. She took a Zantac, too. Between the Ativan and the amount of coffee she drank, acid reflux was a constant companion.

A smile contorted her features when she put her coffee mug down. "You sure you want to deal with this?"

Keith leaned forward. "Deal with what, exactly?"

"Someone who can't function without these," she shook the pill case, "if I want to stay out of the loony bin." Stella placed them back in the drawer and placed her hands on the counter.

"And what's so bad about having to take them?" He took a sip of his water, his eyes not leaving hers.

"Taking them isn't bad." She ignored the little voice that mocked that sentiment. "Its what happens when I don't take them."

Keith took her hand in his. "Then tell me what happens."

While his hand held hers, Stella knew she could pull back and walk away. Despite his poker face, she was sure that if she decided to let go he would not force the answer out. "What do you know about bipolar?" she asked, turning her hand over to hold his.

He squeezed her hand. "From what my uncle's told me, its like having a monkey at the wheel. There's nothing that can compare to a manic high, except maybe a pure rush of adrenaline. And the lows are just like someone took the carpet out from underneath and there's no way back up."

"Is your uncle bipolar?"

Keith nodded his head in response.

"Well, it's not an inaccurate description of it. But, that's not quite right. That monkey he's talking about, the one in control? It's not quite so much that it's in control, but it tells you that going on a massive shopping spree and putting yourself in massive amounts of debt is a fucking awesome idea. It tells you that chasing your wildest dreams are just the simplest thing ever. Except, now there are twenty of them and no one understands how brilliant you actually are. Then you realize that you can't trust anyone because they all want to steal your dreams and take credit for them. They don't understand how brilliant you are, and they all just want to drag you down. So, you lash out and get angry. And every single idea that you have is the best idea ever and needs to be done, now." She paused, taking a deep breath. Her coffee sloshed around as she lifted it for another sip.

"And the psychosis," she resumed with a smile. "It's your best friend and your worst enemy. I'd give everything I have to travel the human bloodstream again and see the world at a cellular level." She trailed off, her eyes alight with memories despite the bone-deep chill that settled in. "I'd even run from myself again.

"The depression? I don't know how bad his gets; bipolar isn't a one size fits all. For me, it's not just that there's no carpet. There's no floor, no walls, no ceiling. It's one big, empty abyss that never ends. Even breathing feels impossible and drowning doesn't begin to describe the sensation. Living is out of the question, but there's no energy to finally end it. Instead, it's just lying there and hoping that a meteor lands on top of me. And I can't let that stop me; I have to find the energy to keep going." A shiver shook her as the sudden cold seized her soul.

The natural smell of earth and sweat surrounded her as Keith came over to hold her.

"And it's not fair, you know? If I want to keep my medical license then I have to take them. I've come so close to losing everything without them, that I take them to keep what little I have." She paused to wipe her nose, snot trailing. "And even with them, I'm impulsive as fuck. It's how I ended up agreeing to take in Luna so quickly. My moods are like some kid tried to draw a map and stable isn't my thing. The only thing that keeps me going is my career. Making kids better is the only constant in my life that just gives me that rush." A light smile settled as she recalled days and nights examining and diagnosing patients.

"That's kind of messed up." Despite his feelings, he made no move to separate. With expert ease, he undid her braid and combed his fingers through her hair.

She snorted. "That's not even the beginning for me. The fun part is, I'm not just bipolar. I have PTSD, and it fuels everything. A good panic attack without my mood stabilizer? I'm almost guaranteed a manic episode. Wonderful, trauma-related flashbacks? I'm heading straight for depression, and boy does everyone hope I've remembered to take the anti-depressant. Both, at once? Buckle up, it's time for a mixed episode." She couldn't help the bitterness that snuck into her voice, that invaded her sense of being. "Today, though? Today's not bad, I just feel like I'm heading back towards depressionville. Work will counteract a lot of that." By the time she was done talking, her hair was fully undone. It's bushy glory floated around her, bits of frizz here and there created a halo effect. "And you know what? I'm tired of keeping it all in. I'm just so tired of it." As if a dam burst, tears flooded out.

Keith held her as tight as he could. He ignored the wet spot that quickly spread across his shirt and the snot that stuck to it. He swayed with her and hummed the lullaby from earlier.

Finally, she pulled away, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie. "Ok, shower. We both smell like sweat and adding snot to the mix didn't help any." She spied his half-eaten burger. "Unless you want to finish your lunch first."

"I'll finish later."

Stella quickly put his leftovers in the fridge and dumped her fries. She stared at them for a moment, wishing that she had her appetite back. Throwing out good fries was a waste. Then she led him to her bathroom, which was the entire reason she rented the apartment.

The shiny white marble counters and floor were worth the large shower with a waterfall showerhead and a spa bathtub. Her washer and dryer were tucked into a corner, where she quickly put their sweat and tear covered clothes. It didn't take long for the water to heat up and Stella invited Keith to join her under the spray.

Keith cupped her face in his hands, his eyes crinkled with a kind smile. Stella covered one of his hands with hers, leaning into it.

"Why?" he asked. "Why are you opening up to me so much today?" he clarified at the blank look she gave him.

Stella closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth from his hand. "Because you stuck around. Even after I kind of fucked things up, and I know you're still pissed about it, you stuck around. That means a lot." She studied him as he watched her. "And, I kind of don't want to fuck it up yet, I've decided." Stella leaned up, pressing her lips against Keith's. As quickly as she started it, she ended it. The smile on her face made him smile back.

"So you want to know about the woman who broke my heart?" he asked as he grabbed her shampoo bottle.

She nodded, turning around to let him wash her hair.

Keith massaged the coconut-scented shampoo into her scalp. "Her name was Angela. And when we met, I thought she was absolutely amazing." He paused but continued to work the shampoo into her strawberry locks. "We met at National University, through some mutual friends. It wasn't anything serious at first. I was enjoying being an eighteen-year-old marine and completely free of my family. She was just looking to hook up with anyone in the service – marine, navy, army. It didn't matter to her." He scoffed and started to help Stella rinse out her hair. "Should have been a big red flag, right there. Over the next year, we grew closer, and became exclusive." Keith started to massage conditioner into Stella's mass of hair. "When I was nineteen, rumors started flying that they were going to send my squad to Iraq. Angela agreed to wait, and I agreed to marry her."

Stella turned around to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Spoiler: it didn't end well." He assured her, helping her rinse out her hair. "As you know, I was there for a few months before a car bomb tried to make mincemeat of me. It would have if not for all of the protective gear I had on. Once I was stable enough, they flew me to Germany to recover. That's where I finally came to, with my dad and uncle in my room. I don't think I ever saw either of them so relieved." The smell of artificial strawberries took over the shower as he started washing her body. "Angela wasn't there. I called her, and she made some excuse about having to watch her sister's kids because of some family thing going on. I was in Germany for several months, made it back shortly after my twenty-first. Angela didn't know I was coming back, but she lived at the same address we had when I left. When I got there," Keith paused, gulping loudly. He pulled Stella against him, holding tight. "I found her pregnant. And it was very definitely not mine. I called my dad, and he hired me a lawyer immediately. Helped me file for divorce and everything. It took the divorce another two years to finalize. She fought everything every step of the way. My lawyer finally tripped her up during trial – he got her to admit that she was only after my money. Just as that nightmare finished, I found out that I was selected to start at the police academy out here. The divorce finalized about a week before I moved back." He buried his head into the crook of her neck, his arms trembling.

Stella reached a hand up, tangling it in his soaking wet hair. When she felt he was ready, she turned around to face him. His grip loosened just enough to allow her to do so. His eyes were rimmed with red. Despite that, he didn't look like he had been crying.

"I'm not hung up on her anymore. But, its made it incredibly difficult for me to want to be with anyone. You're not the first I've tried to be serious with since I came back. But, you're the one where I've started to recognize my issues with."

She hadn't noticed it earlier, but his voice sounded broken. Stella nodded her understanding before giving him the same treatment he had given her a few minutes ago. "I want to tell you about Sam's remark earlier, still," she said once he was clean.

He opened his mouth to say something. She covered it with her finger.

"I know. I freaked earlier. It doesn't happen, always. And I took two benzo's a good twenty minutes ago. I'm about as calm as I ever get." She caught the look he gave her. "Ativan – the anti-anxiety I'm on – it's a benzodiazepine*. Completely legal."

Keith nodded his agreement.

Her heart thumped as she recalled her apartment in Strawberry Mansion. She shoved the visuals aside as hard as she could before she started. "It all began with a woman named Melanie."