Have you ever had one of those days? The one where you just feel like it drags on and on and on, with no end in sight? Like everything just keeps piling on until you don't want to move, to breathe, to even think?

Yeah, that would probably be an understatement to what Derek was feeling right now.

It seemed that no matter where he turned, misery and dejectment seemed to follow him. He truly did believe that it would start out to be a great day. Really. Until it just all turned down hill.

It started off with one of his patients who was under his care dying. Even though all of her stats had been improving, even when she was set to leave the hospital, a vicious infection tore through her body.

There was nothing anybody could do. Even the strongest broad-spectrum antibiotics were powerless to stop it, leaving her to wither away and die.

The parents begged them to do something, anything, to help save their little girl. But all of their pleading soon quieted as they watched their daughter take her last breath, tears in their eyes.

It took everything in him not to cry with them, too.

"Time of death, 9:39 am," He called, dropping his wrist back down to his side. The EKG blared in his ears as he stared at the girl, only one thought running through his head.

Why? Why her?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angie turn off the machines, whispering quiet apologies to the parents.

"I'm sorry for your loss," He spoke, his eyes downcast. "We did everything we could."

But not enough.

"Thank you, Dr. Stiles," The mother said, wiping at her damp eyes. "For what you did for her. You don't know how much it means to us."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Cykes," He replied, willing his voice not to shake. "I hope Athena is happy building her dream robots, wherever she is,"

He quickly walks out of the room after, not waiting to get a response. He knows that might be a bad thing to do, but he couldn't stand to be in there any longer.

Why did it have to be one of those days?

Much to his chagrin, it just kept on getting worse and worse. He screwed up a routine procedure, got yelled at by Sydney, and then ended up feeling like he couldn't do anything right.

Great.

He wishes he could just go home right then and there- or die on the spot, that would be fine too.

"If you're ever going to be an excellent doctor, Derek, then you really need to sharpen up. Caduceus is one of the leading medical facilities in the world, act like you're a doctor that deserves to be here."

Derek couldn't help but stare as Sydney walked out of the OR, his hands still lifted in the air as Stephen took over for him.

"He's just having a bad day, Derek. Don't let it get to you."

Taking off his gloves, he throws them into the hazardous bin and storms out of the OR, tearing off his bloodied lab coat.

"Woah, dude, you alright?"

He suddenly stops at the sound of Tyler's voice, turning around to meet Tyler's confused gaze.

"I'm fine," He murmured, not willing to talk anymore. He didn't want to talk to anyone, if he was honest.

Was it so much to want to be alone?

Back at his office, he couldn't ignore the silent whispers violently dredging themselves up again, the doubts that constantly plagued his mind ever since he transferred to Caduceus. The one's he buried deep inside himself, never to see the light.

As he sat there doing paperwork, he couldn't help but let the dark thoughts slowly consume him, eating away at his conscious.

Maybe Sydney's right, I don't deserve to be a doctor of Caduceus.

The longer he sat, the longer he felt like he wanted to scream. He could barely focus on what was in front of him, his emotions swirling violently in his chest.

He vaguely registers Angie opening the door, holding a big stack of charts in her arms.

"Derek! Where have you been?!" She asked, her eyes pleading. "You were supposed to be on rounds 15 minutes ago!"

"I'm sorry... " he mumbled, staring at his hands. He could barely will the urge to get up, let alone do rounds. This was his job, goddamnit, he didn't have time to sit around and do nothing.

"Is everything alright?"

He feels her approaching him, her soft touch grasping his shoulder. Slightly shaking, he whispers.

"I-I just… I had a bad day, I'm sorry," He apologizes, willing his hands to just do something. It felt difficult to breathe, to move, even though he knew he had a job.

He felt numb.

"What happened?" She asked, pulling her chair from her desk.

He felt childish, now that he thought about it. Letting the little things get to him. But that still didn't ease the cold he felt.

"I-you know, my patient this morning and Sydney getting on my ass about that patient, I just.."

"It got to be too much?" Angie asked, placing her hands on his. Derek nodded, glad he could at least do that.

"Yeah…"

There's a lull of silence, before Angie spoke again.

"I think you should talk to someone, Derek," She said, making Derek freeze.

"I'm not saying right now, but… you've been worrying me lately. It's okay not to be okay, Derek. I just… want you to feel better."

Derek let out a breath, looking up to Angie.

"Okay,"

Angie hesitates for a second before pulling him into a hug, smiling when she can feel him untense under her embrace.

"Okay," She says back, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"I'll come to your place after our shift, and we'll call. Together. Okay?"

Derek nods once more, not trusting his voice.

Angie stands up, pushing her chair back to her desk. "Are you good to move?"

He tests out his hands, finding that they finally feel less stiff and more… there. He slowly stands up and breathes out a laugh, thankful he can move again.

"Yeah, I'm good," He said, his gaze meeting hers.

"Alright, let's go. We're super late to our rounds," She said, pointing to the door with a sense of urgency. Derek's eyes widen, having totally forgotten.

"Oh crap!"

They both rushed out of the room together, their meeting tonight both heavy on their minds.

"Are you ready?"

He can feel Angie's hand clasp his own as they sat on the couch, Derek staring at the call button on his phone.

If he's being honest, he isn't. He isn't prepared to call, to ask if he can talk to someone. Every nerve in his body is telling him to stop, that maybe they can't take him, or that they won't.

He doesn't know why he's so hesitant.

"There's no shame in asking for help, Derek," She spoke, resting her head on Derek's shoulder.

He continued to stare at the number, his eyes slowly following as Angie's finger hovered on top of the green call button.

"Is it okay if…?" She asked, noticing Derek's hesitance. He nodded, knowing he couldn't do it on his own.

Her finger tapped on the button, and the screen morphed to show that it was dialing the number. Quickly holding up the phone to his ear, he waits with bated breath as someone finally picked up.

"Hello, this is the psychiatric department of Caduceus, how may I help you today?"

He almost forgets to speak for a moment. "Hi, um… I would like to make an appointment," He says, Angie giving him an encouraging smile.

"Okay, is this a patient or a staff member calling?"

The conversation goes on for about a minute more before the receptionist finally asks for a name.

"Can I get a name?" The receptionist asks. He looks at Angie for a moment before closing his eyes.

"...Derek. Derek Stiles." He whispers, hopefully loud enough for the receptionist to hear. There's a pause on the other end before she finally speaks again.

"Alright, it is set for the 27th, at 5 pm with Dr. Amy Pond. Is this okay?"

"Yes, thank you," He says, wanting the call to just be over.

"Alright, goodbye."

"Goodbye," He says, before quickly hanging up the phone.

He lets out a long sigh and drops his head onto his chest as Angie snakes her arms round him.

"I'm so proud of you, Derek…" She whispers, feeling Derek collapse into her.

"Ang…" He whispers back, closing his eyes and feeling so unbearably heavy.

"I love you," She murmurs into his skin, her hand resting over his heart.

"I love you too," He thinks, unable to say it back. He doesn't think he can say anything
without breaking.

He wishes he could believe in himself as much as she believes in him.

It had been three days since he finally decided to call the number Angie gave him. He looks back on when she was with him that day, giving him her silent encouragement.

He couldn't deny that he was nervous, but he was finally getting the help he desperately needed.
'There's no shame in asking for help, Derek.' She said that night, as they sat together on the couch. He didn't know what he would do without her.

"Derek?"

A soft voice broke him out of his revere, giving the person a nervous grin.

"Uh- yeah?" He asked.

"Are you ready?"

He recognized it was Amy, Caduceus' resident psychologist. He had met her a couple of
times, working with her when he was treating a few particular patients.

"Oh. Yeah, I am,"

Derek slowly stood up. Taking a deep breath he followed the woman into the back, where they went into a small room.

"So how has it been?"

He didn't really know how to answer that. There had been so much that went on in the past couple of weeks that maybe it would take more than an hour to explain.

Well, everyone had to start somewhere.

"Well, I mean," he breathed out, his eyes wide. "It's been a lot, if that's where you want to start,"

Amy smiled at him, holding her clipboard close to her chest.

"So I've heard."

Derek was relieved she wasn't too prying off the bat. That's probably the one thing he didn't need right now.

"Angela told me that you have been exhibiting some symptoms of a particular disorder, and asked if I could confirm. And don't worry, this is completely confidential. I won't tell anyone about what is said in here unless you allow me to."

Derek nodded, allowing the tension to leave his shoulders somewhat. Even though he knew the doctor-patient confidentiality law quite well, he couldn't help but be nervous anyway.

"So, I'm sure you just want to get right to it."

It didn't take a psychiatrist to know that Derek was extremely nervous. The way he fidgeted with his fingers and sleeves, how he couldn't make eye contact with her.

"U-uh, yeah," He spoke, breathing in deeply.
Amy continued. "I'm going to read you a couple of questions, and try to answer honestly, okay?"

Derek nodded.

"Okay…Do you often avoid, dislike, or are reluctant to engage in tasks that require sustained mental effort?"

He couldn't help but automatically think of paperwork. He absolutely hated doing it, the idea of sitting down and doing something so mind-numbingly boring made him want to scream. Even if Angie promises him something good like coffee after words, he simply can't do it.

"Yes." He replied, staring at a glaringly plastic plant at the corner of the room. "Especially when doing paperwork. But I always thought it was just because it was just that boring."

Amy laughs, despite Derek's depreciating tone. "Yes, I find paperwork boring too. But we all have to do it, yknow?"

Derek nods. "Yeah…"

Amy marks something down on her clipboard before reading another question, one that makes Derek think
for a bit longer.

"Do you often seem to zone out when other people are talking, even when they're speaking to you?"
He can't count how many times he's done that to somebody, even when he wants to listen. It's like an aux cord that someone keeps pulling out of his head when he's trying to listen, and puts it back in when they're finally done talking. It's annoying, all things considered.

"Yeah," He nodded, finally looking back at Amy. "It happens quite a lot, if I'm being honest. I don't mean to do it, it just… happens,"

Amy nods before noting something down on her clipboard.

"Are you easily distracted?

The questioning continued for a couple more minutes, with increasingly more worrying affirmative answers.. He felt anxious the more he sat there, feeling like he was making a big deal out of nothing.

"Do you suffer from chronic and intense feelings of frustration, guilt or blame?"

That one threw Derek in for a loop. He didn't know how to respond. Yeah, it was often that he felt that but it also wasn't.. he just thought that he was just over emotional. It wasn't often he could go a day or more without that sick feeling in his chest, the one that made him wish he never spoke, or every single time a patient dies under his care. He knew from his training that he has to detach from his patients, but he just couldn't.

Sometimes the haunting ring of the flatline sound still assaulted his senses.

"Yeah, it's… I have those a lot," he mumbled, his eyes downcast.

"Do you often feel them towards other people, or towards your patients?" She asks, her pen settled down on her clipboard.

He almost forgets that she knows he's a doctor, the way his heart stops at her question.

"Both…" He says so quietly, it's hard for him to hear what he said himself.

Amy notes something down before clearing her throat, finally stopping with her line of questioning.

"Well, Derek, I think from the information you have given me that you suffer from ADHD."

"ADHD?" He couldn't help but ask. He remembers going to some lecture about that in study hall, but he just couldn't focus on the boring lecture.

Ironic now, all things considered.

"Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I think you may be attention-dominant, however. All of those things you have just described truly do point to you having this disorder."

Derek stared at her.

"So, what does… this mean?" He asks, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.

"I think we should start you on a round of medication, to begin. And maybe get you a therapist, too."

"Medication?" He asks, finally looking up.

Amy nods, a smile on her face. "Yes, medication. It is treatable, you know. But it will be trial and error, some people find the right medication right away, and some… don't. But we'll keep trying."

"I will… get better?" He can't believe it. He always thought he was stuck this way, constantly falling short of everyone's expectations. He felt like he was going to cry.

"Yes, you will. It can't be cured, but it will get better with treatment."

She writes down a script on a pad, and writes down a number.

"Here's the number for one of my good friends, who's a therapist. If you give her a call, she'd be happy to see you.

Derek smiled, feeling like something heavy was finally lifting from his chest.

"I… thank you." He laughs, relief filling in his tone. Amy hands him the script.

"It's no problem, Derek. I'll set an appointment in two weeks to see how you do on this. Remember, it might not work at first, or it might."
Derek stands up, taking the note and script from her hands.

"Alright. Thank you again, Dr. Pond,"

"Call me Amy. And you are very welcome."

Just before he walks out of the door, Amy spoke up again.

"And don't hesitate to call me if you have any side-effects, okay?"

He nods.

"Gotcha."

He leaves the psych department feeling lighter than he has in years.