Music: K. Flay, Get it Right
February 9th, 2020 

Her head throbbed as Stella opened her eyes. "Fuck," she whispered. "The fuck happened?" She rubbed her head, trying to get the pain to ease.

Cautiously, she opened her eyes. It was still dark outside; a glance at the digital clock on the table next to her said it was 3:31 AM. "Well, I'm at home, that's a good start." She winced; her throat felt like she swallowed glass shards. 

What had she done yesterday?

She rolled onto her back; her chest hurt from being on her stomach for so long. Stella paused as she felt the warmth of another body next to her. 

That was not a good sign. 

She frowned as the memory of a cat surfaced. 

Not helpful to her current predicament. 

Which was, who the fuck was in her bed? 

And why? 

Fuck, this was bad. 

When was the last time she did something this careless? 

College? 

Med school? 

Definitely med school. 

Fuck. 

This was bad. 

Very bad. 

She glanced over and almost sobbed with relief. 

Howie lied next to her. Even in the moonlight, his face looked troubled. 

What the absolute fuck happened yesterday? 

Even with that answerless question rattling around, she felt the pied piper calling. 

Half-asleep, she realized Howie covered her in the quilt Melissa made her for her twelfth birthday. Warm memories of a late winter bonfire and a strawberry fudge cake pulled her deep into slumber. 

Stella tried to wave her hand in front of her face, but she couldn't see it. 

Where was the light? 

She heard a sound in the distance, quickly making her questions irrelevant. "Who's there?" she called out.

"Who's there?" a voice tittered back. "Who's there?" it repeated.

Stella spun around to try and locate the source of the voice. She fell and skinned her knee on something hard. She felt along the ground, trying to figure out what she landed on. 

There was nothing there. It was air.

How was she even standing on air? 

Was she flying? 

Had she finally decided to jump? 

God, she hoped not. 

Impact was going to hurt.

"Who's there?" the voice called out again. "Who's there?"

"Who are you?" Stella called as she stood up.

"Who are you?" it called back. There was a menacing cackle to its tone. "Who are you?"

She spun around. 

Where was that voice coming from? 

Stella screeched as a hand grabbed her ankle. She lashed out at the cold, slimy body part. The hand tightened its grip on her ankle.

Stella felt herself sink down, slowly. 

What happened to the air she was on a minute ago?

She scrambled, trying to find it. 

That had been safe. 

Her free foot kept on sliding back into the muck, unable to find anything to steady her. Soon, she was knee-deep in it. Stella screamed in frustration as she sunk deeper. 

She buried her hands in it. 

There was nothing there for her to find. No ledge, no plant, no lever. She started to cry as she sank further down.

The grime consumed her; covered her. Stella choked as it went over her face, tried to cough it up. There was no respite; it was in her. 

She was dirty, damaged goods.

"Hello."

The voice was back. 

And it was close. 

There she was, looking at her. 

Stella recognized that strawberry-blonde hair and those green eyes. Their jawline and cheekbones were the same. 

The more Stella examined the person across from her, the more she realized that she was looking at herself.

If that was her, then who was she? 

Stella looked at her hands; they were covered in purple grime. It expanded across her skin, covering her in purple. 

Stella tried to wipe it off as it spread across her. It spread faster.

She looked to the other Stella. Her hair was shinier, and her face free of freckles. Her teeth were whiter, and eyes brighter. "Help."

The other Stella sneered. 

Could such a beautiful creature really sneer? 

"Who would help you? You're just a foul, pathetic creature."

Stella struggled to breathe as the other her strangled her. Purple leaked out of her eyes, and down her face. She coughed it up and watched it slide down her skin.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure no one misses you," she whispered.

The other Stella let go of Stella. She floated, peacefully to the ground. Her throat constricted; she tried to scream. She tried to raise her arm only to find that the purple muck had hardened around her.

Stella sat up and banged her head on something hard. She rubbed the spot where they had collided.

"You ok?" an all to familiar voice asked.

She felt the bed around her. Stella could still feel Mr. Stuffy grasped in her arms. She nodded her head; she didn't yet trust herself to speak.

"Bad dream?" Howie asked.

"Y-y-yeah." With one shuddering breath, Stella let loose all of the tears she'd been holding back. "Why? Why me?"

Howie wrapped his arms around Stella's shoulders, pulling her in close. She latched on to the sound of his heartbeat and lost herself in the steady rhythm of it. Beat one beat two. Beat one beat two. So simple and easy. 

Why couldn't everything else be like this? 

"I'm sorry," she finally said, looking down. Stella picked at some fuzz on her quilt.

"It's not like you got much of a say in the matter." Howie handed her a box of tissues. She blew her nose. Her lungs finally filled with air, and relief flooded through her with that breath. 

Able to breathe properly again, she held her first breath, then slowly exhaled. Stella repeated the process until she felt as close to normal as she ever got. Feeling better, she flopped back onto her pillow.

She pulled the quilt, now a tangled mess, back up around her shoulders. Stella closed her eyes as she felt the tidal wave of depression return.

"You gonna be ok?" Howie asked, gingerly moving a strand of hair out of her face. Not trusting herself to speak, Stella nodded her head.

"Mania hangover?"

She nodded her head again, withdrawing further into the blankets. Stella inhaled the familiar scent of her laundry detergent. She seized Mr. Stuffy from Howie when he offered the bear to her. At some point, Stella must have put him down. She wasn't sure when.

Howie brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. "We'll talk about last night later, then. The Ativan* and Zantac* are next to you. Take them, then burrito."

Meekly, Stella rolled over and complied. The two pills went down easy, easier with the glass of water Howie left for her. She pulled the quilt as tight as she could around her, leaving only enough room to breathe. She sunk into the darkness, wrapping it further around her.

Wrapped in darkness, Stella let herself breathe. Deep shuddering breaths that shook her to the core, and left her feeling raw. 

What had she done yesterday? 

Why did this have to happen to her? 

She drew the quilt around her as tight as it would go around her, taking whatever comfort she could get from shutting the world out.

The sun was high in the sky before she finally moved. The light bathed her apartment in the early afternoon sunshine, contrasting against her gloomy mood. It highlighted the mess she had left behind. There were clothes strewn throughout the studio, laying where she had left them in her mad search for something else to wear the day before.

Her head throbbed with every step she took across the room, blanket dragging along with her. She spied the sofa and sprawled out on it. She put her head in Howie's lap as he moved his laptop out of the way.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

What did feeling better mean right now? 

Was it her sudden discovery that, yes, she is still capable of walking? 

That she was still capable of life? 

Scratch that, sprawling out on top of various pieces of furniture wasn't really living. 

Maybe better meant just existing right now. Despite the ache in her chest, despite her throbbing head, and despite the fact that her entire body ached. "I guess. Don't you have work today?"

"I called my sergeant earlier; he said I could work from home. He doesn't want to send me out unless he has to anyways. Something about making me finish up paperwork for that case of mine from right before I left. It's going to the prelim trial in a few days."

"So Johnson knows what happened yesterday." Stella covered her face with her arms. The thought of Howie telling others what happened bugged her.

"Not specifics. He knows that you had a rough night."

"He knows what Stella Montgomery having a rough night means, Howie."

"It means many things, you know. It could be a full-blown manic episode or another suicide attempt, or just feeling suicidal, or -" Howie stopped talking as Stella covered his mouth. Her hand didn't hide the joking smile he wore.

"Ok, ok, I get the picture. We don't need to rehash every single bad night we've had over the past sixteen years."

He smiled down at her. "Sorry. I guess not. Ready to talk about last night?"

"I don't remember last night. Or much of anything from yesterday, really." She frowned, trying to gather anything she could. 

Why could she remember a single, fucking cat? 

Brains were a funny thing. 

She wished hers worked better. 

"What's the last thing you remember?"

That was a question, alright. "We talked. You reminded me to take my meds, so this is still two days ago. Dancing," she frowned as another memory made its way up. "I had a panic attack?"

"Yes, yes you did. You called me from Pretty Boy's house."

"That's right. I don't even remember what I was freaking out about. And," she paused again, smiling a little this time, "really good sex." She smacked Howie's knee for jostling her as he laughed.

"You would remember that of all things. Anything after that?"

She frowned in concentration. Her eyes fluttered as she desperately tried to remember yesterday, but any memories were long gone. They didn't even dance at her fingertips, promising if just one thing could trigger it that she'd remember. "Not a clue," she let out a sigh. "I fucking hate this!" Stella paused a moment, to quell her frustration. "Did you put anything together?"

"Well, I found you by the Schuylkill. After you let out a scream; that worried me, by the way. Don't scream like that again."

She'd at least made it towards one of her favorite places, then. Probably how he found her.  "I think we can both agree I wasn't in control of myself."

"Point being; you sounded wounded. Don't do that again. You had a ton of shopping bags, those are still in my car. We can go through them later. And your bank statements. And you threw at least one copy of Pride and Prejudice into the river."

Stella couldn't help but snort at that. There was something about that book that she detested. For whatever reason, it was a mainstay of her manic episodes too. She was sure it made sense somewhere in her overactive mind. "Ok. So far a somewhat normal sounding manic episode."

"You didn't believe I was me; that's not normal for you."

Stella looked away from him. That was a first. A very embarrassing first. "Sorry," she muttered. "I'm not sure what came over me."

"Neither do I, Stell. When was the last time you didn't take your meds?"

She pulled the quilt up over her head. Howie pulled it back down.

"We're not avoiding this conversation." 

"Yes, we are." She pulled the blanket back up, trying to hide.

"Stell, you know you need to take those."

"Yeah, because I'm fucking crazy without them. I've had enough IV's full of Haldol by now to know."

"Then why did you forget the other night? Your pill case was still full."

Stella flinched. Yesterday only reaffirmed how important her medication is. "I don't really know. I thought I did. Take them, that is."

He groaned. "I don't want to see you back in the hospital. Again. I've seen what happens when you're not medicated."

Of course, that was what it all came back to. 

Her medication. 

The miracle pills that kept her from being a psychotic mess in the ER. 

That was really all that mattered; that she took her pretty little pills that kept her pretty little mind inside her head. 

 "I've had enough of being treated like a nut case!" Stella pushed herself away from him, falling on the floor as she did so. She disentangled herself from the blanket as she scurried to stand. "I'm not just a fucking crazy person who needs medication every second of their life!"

Howie held his hands up. "I never said you were." He closed his eyes as if to say, this again.

"You might as well have. You've done nothing but harp on me about taking my pills. 'Don't forget to take your pills, Stella.' You know how you get without your pills, Stella. You know they keep you sane, Stella." She watched as he winced against her attacks.

He held up his hands, perhaps trying to defend himself. 

"No, you don't get to defend yourself this time. I know well enough what I'm like when I don't take my pills. I know what happens. I know where I end up. I know I was lucky to come home yesterday." The eerily quiet tone of her anger was starting to scare her. Of course, this controlled anger was one of the reasons Howie had originally been afraid of her, to begin with. "But I'm not just bipolar. I'm not just someone who needs heavy medication. I'm a person." Her face screwed up, as she remembered the little bit from yesterday she could. The cold fury that had consumed her seconds ago left.

"And, oh my god, I probably fucked everything up yesterday with him. What the fuck was I thinking? I can't even have a normal relationship! I can't," she paused, gasping for air, "I can't." She leaned into Howie, as he seized her in one of his giant bear hugs. Stella clung to him, desperate for anything that even resembled comfort. She rocked in his arms, a futile attempt to comfort herself.

She could feel Luna slip away. 

They hadn't even had the chance to get to know each other, not really.

And Keith, fuck only knew what he thought of her now. 

Liz, if she knew, she'd make sure Luna never saw her again. 

It wasn't fucking fair! 

Why her? 

"Why are you the only person who's stayed around this long?" she asked, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Even that didn't help, she burst into hysterical tears again. 

"Because it's what partners do. Thick and thin, Stell."

Despite the tears, she smiled into his shirt. That was the same thing he'd said to her when they really started to become friends. "Always," she agreed.

"So, Ativan?"

"Yeah," she sighed in agreement. "I don't need a panic attack on top of all of this junk." She walked over to the kitchen and took the pill. 

"So, you can't what?" Howie asked as he sat back down.

"I can't get yesterday back. I guess anything that could have happened between us is over." Stella sat back down on the sofa, heavily. She leaned against Howie, soaking in the warmth he offered. She snuggled up against his side as he put his arm around her.  

Anything about Luna remained unsaid. 

Even the thought of her sister turned her insides out and threatened to tear her apart. 

He played with her hair, still loose from the previous day. "You could text him."

"And what? Act like yesterday didn't happen?" she scoffed at the idea. "Yesterday happened alright. And I had to go let out all the crazy in one day."

"You really like him, though."

"Yeah, I do, but you're the only person I've found who can handle my brand of crazy." She leaned into Howie's hand as he wiped away yet another tear. "I fucking hate being bipolar."

"You'll find someone else, I got some faith in you. Now, it's lunchtime. I'm hungry, and there's a Wawa near your apartment. Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll treat you to lunch."

She nodded her head and got up. Stella finally caught sight of Howie's neck. Four bright red lines trailed down the side of it. She trailed her fingers over the scratches. "I'm sorry. I must have been a nightmare to deal with last night."

"It's not the first time, Stell. Now, go get ready. I am really hungry." To emphasize his point, Howie's stomach let out a particularly loud growl.

"You know, how bout I treat you to a cheesesteak instead? You like that place on the corner."

"Deal. Now, go get ready. I know you're going to take forever. You haven't even seen how you look yet."