(A 911 Buddie Fic) You Were Made From Scars

Chapter 5

"I want to see him."

The words left Eddie's mouth before he even realised. Tears burnt at the edges of his eyes, but he swallowed hard, refusing to let them fall. He didn't feel real, didn't feel like any of this could be real, as if he had fallen asleep and was in some weird dream that he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up from.

Bobby placed a hand on Eddie's arm, meeting Eddie's gaze and nodding his head gently. "The doctors said he's sleeping right now, but I'm sure they'll let us see him."

The doctors didn't even try to tell them no. If it so much as crossed their minds, it must have disappeared with one look at Eddie who was barely hanging on. His entire body felt like it would collapse at any moment, and if he was honest, he wasn't sure how he was still standing. His legs almost gave way once they were inside the room, the sight of Buck weakening him. Buck...

"How?" Eddie asked, voice hoarse as he pushed himself forward, barely daring to believe it. He reached out a hand but stopped short of touching Buck, of tracing his fingertips over the familiar pattern of the tattoos and scars Eddie knew so well, scared that it would fade away, shatter beneath his need for contact.

"That's what we're going to find out," Bobby answered, hanging back slightly and allowing Eddie to be the one next to Buck. "The hospital spoke with Dr Trent and he's on his way. Hopefully we can get some answers from him."

The machines beeped, showing a steady heartbeat, and Eddie's gaze wandered over Buck, feeling his own breathing matching with the rise and fall of Buck's chest. It didn't last, broken sobs taking hold, all restraint falling away as he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his hand finding Buck's and holding onto it, tighter than he had held onto anything ever before. Everything hit him at once, the realisation of what this meant, the hurt, the anger, the joy and pain, all the agony he had been feeling over the last nine months.

His chest ached and his head span, but amongst it all, there was Buck. His Buck. And in that moment, Eddie didn't care about anything else.

He stayed there, with Buck, until there was a knock at the door and a young nurse entered, accompanying an older man who must have been Dr Trent. When he suggested they talk in a separate room, Eddie felt his heart clench at the idea of leaving Buck, but reluctantly he followed when Bobby laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

There was a lot to take in, and so much of it led to more questions. Buck had been found on a riverbank, with a gunshot wound, and no memory, and Eddie listened as Dr Trent recounted what he knew of Buck and his whereabouts. He listened as Dr Trent told them about how they were keeping up with regular therapy sessions and how physically, Buck was fine. Or at least, as fine as someone could be after all the physical damage he had been dealt over the years.

"My belief is that the memory loss is trauma related," Dr Trent continued. "There is something there, buried deep, preventing him from accessing his memories."

"How do we help him?" Bobby asked, gentle and cautious, taking the lead, which Eddie was grateful for.

"We start off slow. We have to be careful not to overwhelm him. Too much information too soon could have an adverse effect."

"What does that mean?" Eddie asked, though he already suspected and feared the answer.

"If we push him, we risk his mind essentially burying the memories deeper. Until we know what has caused the trauma, we won't know what could trigger him to get worse." Dr Trent looked between them, his eyes sad but imploring. "Introduce him to his life one step at a time. Allow him to get settled and don't put pressure on him to remember things – give him the chance to remember on his own, allow him to make up his own mind."