You've never really known anguish until you've watched a medic declare the woman that you love, to be dead. Felt your heart stop with hers. Heard the panicked words ricocheting off the walls while there's a desperate attempt to bring her back.

I was still hearing the pleading, the begging, the bargaining, as I sat in the corridor and waited for an update. She was on a strict no visitors policy and once she was well enough, she'd be admitted to the psych ward for further care and evaluation. The waiting part was unbearable.

Yes, she was alive. She'd survived an attempt to take her own life. But what her condition would be when she woke up, was uncertain. Would she have sustained permanent damage? How extensive would it be? How the hell could I help her?

Bray sat beside me with his head in his hands. His phone kept going off. Text after text. But he hadn't moved since he got here. Once in a while he'd sniffle, bring his thumb and forefinger to his eyes and pinch. He might have been attempting to hide the fact that he couldn't stop crying. But he didn't have to hide it. I wasn't judging him.

The rest of the crew had been and gone. It was almost three in the morning and visiting hours were well over. But all of them had shown up. Even Amy. Jess however, wasn't given permission to leave the house, even if her best friend did almost die. She said that she'd be here in the morning whether her parents liked it or not. I imagined that she was the one blowing up Bray's phone. He'd refused to leave regardless of the time.

"I was supposed to be watching her," he mumbled, head still in his hands. "I was supposed to make sure that she didn't do something stupid. Or drink too much. Or get hurt."

"Don't do that man," I said, letting my head lightly hit the wall behind me. I folded my arms and fought exhaustion. "She slipped off because she wanted to. It wasn't your fault. At all. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I obviously upset her by showing up."

He shook his head. "Na. She's been a wreck for weeks, Heath. But everyone knows how much you love her. If it's not on me, it's definitely not on you."

Quiet fell between us again but it was obvious that neither of us believed what the other said. If I hadn't shown up, she wouldn't have gotten so worked up. Bray would still have been watching her. She would have been safe. I was selfish. I selfishly wanted an explanation and I pushed her. That was one mistake that I wouldn't be making again.

At the sound of shoes squelching, echoing in the vacant corridor, Bray and I snapped our heads up and I saw mom walking towards us. I was about to stand but she veered off into the room that Leonie was in and closed the door behind her. Bray and I sagged with disappointment and it felt like forever before the door opened and mom reappeared.

This time she did approach us and we both stood up.

"How is she?" Bray asked, panic in his tone. "Is she okay? What's going on with her brain? When can we see her?"

Mom gave him a small smile. "She's stable. Her vitals are returning to normal and after reading the doctor's observations, her brain should be just fine."

Bray let out a loud sigh of relief and I had to join him. The weight that had been sitting on my shoulders, lifted. I felt as if I could breathe again.

"As for seeing her," mom added. "She's sleeping at the moment and I'd guess that she will be for a while. Her body underwent some major trauma and it's going to take a little bit for her to come right. But regardless, she'll be transferred to the psych ward when she's stable enough."

Bray seemed surprised but it wasn't shocking at all. It was standard procedure.

"She tried to kill herself." Mom's voice cracked and her professional composure slipped for a moment. "She needs evaluation and clearance before she can be let go again."

Bray nodded and mom looked at me. Her expression conveyed so much. Pain. Despair. Confusion. Regret. "Can we talk alone for a moment?" She asked.

I nodded and we stepped a bit further from Bray as he sat down on the plastic waiting chairs. Mom moved in close and lowered her voice. "Did Leonie ever mention that she was on medication or talk about a condition with you?"

I recoiled. "Medication?"

Mom nodded as if she wasn't surprised to see that I was baffled. "It would be a breach of confidentiality for me to explain further. So I can't. But perhaps Bray knows. Or Leonie might talk about it when she's ready. I don't know. But what I do know, is that after reading her notes, I wish I had known how attentive we all needed to be."

"Mom, what the hell does that mean?"

"I can't hon," she gave me an apologetic look. "I need to continue my rounds but when you can see her, I'll let you know."

"Someone should be in there with her in case she wakes up," I pointed at her door. "Let me go in and sit with her. Please."

She gave me an apprehensive look but after a moment, nodded. "You can go in and sit with her."

I thanked her and turned to Bray, gesturing for him to follow me. We walked, quietly, into her room and found it to be dim. All the light that was provided was a small bedside lamp that was enough that the nurses could read the chart and allowed us to see Leonie's pale face. She had a breathing tube in her mouth. IV lines stemmed from her arms and a monitor beeped a rhythmic pulse. Even in her sleep, she looked distressed. Brows slightly pinched. Bray and I went to either side of her bed and stood, looming over her. I'd hate for her to startle awake and get a fright. But I knew that she'd be out for a while longer.

Bray sighed and folded his arms.

"Do you know more about this?" I asked. "As in, does she have some preexisting history with depression or-- something? Medication?"

He kept his focus on her but swallowed. He did know something. I was starting to feel like someone had the cloth over my eyes and I didn't like it. At all.

"Bray come on," I pleaded. "I just found the woman that I love, half dead and had to literally watch her die until the medics managed to get her heart beating again. So what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah alright," he winced and ran a hand through his hair as he fell into a seat beside the bed. I remained standing. "Leonie has dysthymia. Or persistent depressive disorder."

My stomach dropped.

"She was diagnosed when she was twelve," Bray continued. His voice was tense and I could hear how much he was struggling to get the words out. Sort of like he didn't want to be saying them at all. I had a feeling that this was a tight kept secret and he wasn't meant to be sharing it with me. "It's a mild case and she manages it with medication but the thing with dysthymia is that—"

"I know," I said, nodding. Dysthymia was a continuous form of depression. The symptoms can come and go over time and the intensity can increase and decrease as well as major episodes occurring triggered by trauma. The symptoms included low self esteem, sleeping problems, hopelessness, avoidance of social activities, irritability, over eating or poor appetite, guilt and worry over the past...

Some of those things might have fit with her. The guilt. The occasional irritability. More so when she'd been drinking. Which made sense if she was on medication. Alcohol cancelled it out. But not the low self esteem. Not the sleeping problems. Not the hopelessness. Knowing Leonie, I'd never for one moment imagine that she would struggle with demons like that. I'd never met someone more positive. Someone more optimistic and in love with the world.

"She never told me," I mumbled. I couldn't believe that she'd never told me such a huge part of her life.

"The only people that know are, Jess, me and Benny did too. And that was because Benny found her meds. She hated the fact that she had to take them. Hated it. She's always hated her condition. And from the moment that she was diagnosed, she's lived like it didn't exist."

"But we were going to have a child together," I said. Bray might have been listening. But I was thinking out loud. Looking at Leonie and wondering what made her think that she couldn't share that part of herself with me. "I mean, she could have told me."

He exhaled and put his hands behind his head. He carried on watching her as he spoke. "We're not supposed to bring it up. Ever. But I did ask her when you two started dating. Asked her if she'd tell you. Almost lost my head that afternoon. But whatever. She said, and I quote, I don't want to lose the way that he looks at me."

His brows pinched with thought. "She said that you looked at her like she was strength. Hope. Bla bla. All of that epic shit," he chuckled and shook his head. "She thought that if you knew, you'd look at her differently. With pity. She couldn't stand the thought of you not seeing her like she was this amazing, put together, strong, unique woman. Which, by the way, she is. Regardless of her disorder."

"She doesn't believe that? She doesn't believe that she's all of those good things?

He shook his head at my tone. "You're acting like you don't know her," he finally looked at me.

"I feel like I'm missing a huge part of who she is," I said.

He pointed at me. "That's exactly where her reasoning came from by the way. She didn't consider it a huge part of who she was, Heath."

I felt ashamed. Would I have looked at her differently?

"She knew what it was like to feel total emptiness. To have everything you could ever need or want in life and still go to sleep at night, wondering why none of it mattered. She'd know that going to her friends birthday sleepover would be fun but she didn't go. She sat on the couch at home all night instead. She knew that not eating a single thing all day would make her sick and that food tasted good but could she go to the kitchen and fix a snack? Nope. She heard all of the compliments. 'You're gorgeous. You have perfect hair. You're funny etc etc'. Did she believe it? Na.

"That was her reality until she was diagnosed and she started her meds and she went to counselling. And she decided one day that she was going to fight the hell out of her disorder. She was going to be happy and get out of bed and eat and socialize and love herself whether she wanted to or not because life was hers. And she did that. She took all of the right steps but damned if anyone knew how hard she had to work for it."

Leonie hadn't stirred once while Bray spoke. She remained un-moving. The only indicator of her beating heart was the monitor. Otherwise her stillness could have been concerning. She was strong. What he said just proved that even further. She had strength and persistence and presence. I'd never met a girl like her and it made me love her even more.

"Bray," I said, looking at him. He watched her. "You two. . . You slept together You had a thing going on. Was it ever more for you?"

His shoulders rose and fell with a barely audible chuckle. He shook his head. "You'd be crazy not to love this girl," he looked up at me. "But no. We were friends. Always. Best friends. But we had fun when no one else was around and that was it. It was just sex. I guess from the outside, it's hard to explain how that wouldn't turn into more. But it just wasn't like that. I wouldn't go as far as to call her my sister, because that's sick. But she means a lot to me. Always has, always will. As a friend."

I smiled and felt relieved. I'd never been concerned or jealous but I had to ask how he felt. "She must have stopped taking the meds when she found out that she was pregnant," I murmured, running a hand through my hair. "She did seem. . . Not herself."

"She did stop taking them," he sounded exhausted. A thick tongue like he was about to nod off. "I asked her a couple of weeks ago. That time she really did thump me in the arm. Told me to back off. We were watching her. But she was good. Like, actually just good. And happy despite being off them. But that didn't mean she was immune to the occasional flare like you would have seen."

"You were watching her? You and Jess?"

"Always," he shrugged, like it was a give in. Which I guess it was. "Why do you think we were so worried whenever she was drinking and did something dumb. Like fight or disappear. Alcohol brings out the disorder. Not every single time. But it happens."

I remembered the night that she'd tried to leave my room when she was drunk and ended up in tears until I laid down with her and pulled her in close.

"She didn't keep it from you because she thought she couldn't trust you," Bray explained. "She did-- does trust you. But it was more about how you made her feel. Like I said. You looked at her like she was the picture of strength and she loved that. She's going to kill me when she finds out that I squealed."

I nodded. I understood I suppose. Leonie had always opened up to me. From the beginning she'd confided in me and I knew that if she kept her disorder from me, it was because she truly believed that it was for the best. And now I had to prove to her that I would still see her as the same confident, strong, smart, selfless, generous and kind woman that I'd always seen her as.

I must have dozed off at some point, because when I came to, the room was brighter. My neck was sore from slouching in an arm chair and my lids felt heavy but I immediately straightened up when I saw Leonie staring at me from her bed. She looked so tortured. Hurt. Her gaze was glass and her complexion was pale. The nurse must have come and gone because her tube had been replaced with a nasal cannula. I was so captivated at the sight of her being awake that I almost didn't notice Jess and Bray curled up asleep on the other chair. The clock on the wall read just past nine in the morning.

Cautious, I stood up and moved to the bed side. Leonie watched me. She didn't move, blink, it almost looked as though she wasn't breathing. I gently pushed her hair from her face and reveled in the warmth of her skin. "Heath," she whispered with such a soft voice that I might not have heard it if I hadn't been watching her lips move. I couldn't begin to describe how grateful I was to see her living. To see her chest rise and fall. To see her lashes flutter with each blink. To see her swallow. To see her tears pool. No, I didn't want her to cry but all of these things meant she was alive and I had to be thankful for that. Last night could have left us with a very different outcome.

"I'm here," I told her, gripping her hand. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You're not alone, Leonie. I'm here."

She began to sob. Tears streaked her cheeks. She looked up at me and my heart fractured under the weight of her pain. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I've made such a mess. I--"

"Don't," I told her, cupping her face. I couldn't get close enough. I wanted to get into bed beside her and hold her as I'd done so many times before. "Don't apologize. Please don't. Just focus on yourself, alright? That's all I could ever want, Leonie. For you to see what I see. To love yourself as much as I love you."

Her eyes darted from mine to Bray and back to me. It was quick and she swallowed. "He told you?"

"Listen," I held her face with both hands now and lowered even further so that we were less than an inch apart. "I love and appreciate all of you. The disorder doesn't change a damn thing. I love all of the parts that make you who you are. All of them. And I won't use the term 'the good and the bad' because it's not bad Leonie. It's not. You're wired to feel low and helpless and you choose to be the most outstanding, optimistic, best friend, girlfriend and overall beautiful woman, regardless. That makes you fucking amazing in my opinion. You're still the wind Leonie. You're still the strongest woman that I've ever known."

Her cries became heavier and I kissed her cheeks, brushing them from her face. All I wanted was for her to understand that she was remarkable. She needed to understand that mental illness wasn't who she was. It was just part of her picture. A color on her canvas. The blue horizon behind her rainbow.

Bray and Jess were awake. I could see them shifting beside us. I straightened up after a few moments and let Bray move in for a hug. He and Jess were both red with blotched tears. "You scared the fuck out of me," he mumbled into her hair as he held her. Jess stood beside him, her hands clasped as she cried. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Jess had her turn and I swear she wanted to hit Leonie. But she didn't. She just held onto her and ran her fingers through her hair with her cheek rested on top of her head. "Your mom is here," she told Leonie, sniffling. Leonie didn't look surprised.

"I know," Leonie nodded. "She was in here while you three slept. She's so hurt."

My stomach twisted at the guilt and anguish that tainted her voice. Of course her mom was hurt. But I hoped that Leonie could forgive herself. Just like the rest of us had.

"She wanted to take me back to London," she murmured. Jess finally let go of Leonie's head and sat back on the bed. "But I argued it. Surprised we didn't wake you all up to be honest. We came to a compromise."

"What was it?" Bray asked, anxious. I picked up Leonie's hand and she gave me a soft smile. It was enough to give me back a little piece of my heart.

"I have to go to a facility for like three months," she stared at her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting. "It's like rehab I guess. I mean she's pretty serious about me not being left alone again. Last time I had an episode, I only talked about dying. So, she's not taking any chances."

I had to agree with Meredith on that. I would have been devastated if she'd gone to London. But if it had been what was best for her, then I wouldn't argue. If this facility could give her the help she needed to come back from this, I was all for it. Because I could see from the slouch in her shoulders, the exhaustion in her face and the vacant look in her eyes, she was still struggling and now it was more than just the guilt that she'd felt over what happened with the baby, it was going to be the guilt over what she'd done last night. That was just who she was. She carried too much on her shoulders. All I wanted was for her to relieve herself of that weight. However that happened, she needed to know that she wasn't alone.