call your therapist. // eddie diaz

ix. high standards

the 118’s weekend bbq was in full swing, smoke rising from the grill, laughter filling the air, and i couldn’t help but smile at the sight of my friends and colleagues mingling. tommy had come along to meet more of the 118 crew, looking slightly out of place in his button-up shirt while everyone else was dressed down.

hen and i were setting up side dishes at a picnic table when eddie walked over, rolling up his sleeves as he took in the spread. "you guys really went all out, huh?" eddie commented with a warm grin, directing most of his attention toward me.

“we try to keep the standards high,” i joked, nudging hen. “can’t have firefighters eating sub-par burgers and potato salad.”

hen chuckled, patting my shoulder. “careful, eddie. she’s starting to catch on to how picky we all are.”

eddie shrugged playfully. “hey, i just appreciate a good cookout. though we can’t all have tommy’s taste, right?” he added with a light smile, though the comment seemed to carry a hint of an edge.

i gave him a look but shrugged it off, nodding toward the grill. “well, if you want to show us how it’s done, buck could use some help. he’s been guarding that grill like it’s his kingdom.”

as if on cue, buck waved them over, tongs in hand, a playful grin lighting up his face. “hey, don’t talk down the chef. these burgers are going to be the best you’ve ever had.”

eddie and i joined him, and soon the trio fell into an easy rhythm of flipping burgers, chatting about upcoming shifts, and laughing at the station’s inside jokes. tommy stayed back a bit, chatting with hen and chimney, but his gaze occasionally drifted toward me and eddie, a barely noticeable tension creeping into his posture.

after the bbq, i slipped into one of the quieter rooms for a quick check-in with chimney, who had recently opened up about lingering anxieties since his injury. i sat across from him, my tone calm and supportive.

“how have things been?” i asked gently.

chimney leaned back, looking thoughtful. “i thought 8’d be fine by now, you know? but sometimes, i’m on a call, and i can’t shake that fear.”

“that’s understandable, chimney,” i said reassuringly. “injuries, especially in your line of work, can bring up a lot of things we think we’re over. facing them head-on shows strength.”

chimney sighed, nodding. “it’s like my body’s healed, but my mind… well, it’s still catching up.”

i offered a small smile. “healing’s not linear, and it’s okay to lean on your team. they’d be here for you, just like you are for them.”

i glanced around the station’s makeshift relaxation room where chimney and i were seated. the light filtering through the window cast a warm, comforting glow, but the tension in chimney’s posture was unmistakable.

“tell me more about that fear you mentioned,” i encouraged gently.

chimney exhaled, running a hand over his face. “it’s…hard to admit, but i get these flashes of doubt every time we get a call. i used to be the one everyone counted on for a good laugh, you know? but now, i feel like i’m holding something back, afraid of risking too much.”

i nodded thoughtfully. “it sounds like you’ve been carrying this alone, not wanting to show your teammates you’re struggling.”

“yeah,” he said quietly. “i just don’t want them to see me as weak. it’s stupid, right?”

i shook my head. “not at all, chimney. they respect you, not for always being the strong one, but for being you - loyal and dependable. letting them in might strengthen those bonds even more. if anything, vulnerability is one of the bravest things you can show them.”