It was me in there( 9-1-1 )

Meeting.

The firehouse was quieter than usual, the typical rush of activity paused for a moment after the call. Buck leaned against the locker, still trying to shake off the remnants of his panic attack. He could feel the burn in his lungs, the residual tightness that lingered even after the worst had passed. The adrenaline still buzzed in his system, and it made his thoughts race.

He didn't want to think about it—didn't want to acknowledge how close he'd come to losing control—but his mind kept returning to the feeling of suffocating. The pressure. The fear that had gripped him so tight, that had nearly paralyzed him.

"Buck," Bobby's voice broke through his thoughts.

He straightened up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of his captain's tone. Bobby wasn't angry, but there was a firmness in his voice that Buck didn't miss.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Bobby asked, his gaze steady as he gave Buck a small nod toward his office.

Buck hesitated for a moment, then gave a tight nod of his own. "Yeah, sure."

He followed Bobby to the office, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of Bobby's concern pressing down on him, and part of him wanted to push it all away. He wasn't ready to face it—not here, not now. He couldn't tell Bobby what had really caused it all, not when he hadn't even begun to understand it himself.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Bobby gestured for Buck to take a seat. Buck did, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Bobby was seeing through him, reading the signs he tried so hard to hide.

Bobby took a seat behind his desk, but instead of diving right into the conversation, he studied Buck for a moment. "You know, I've been doing this long enough to see when something's off. And lately, something's definitely off with you."

Buck clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to look away. He didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't. Not about his father, not about the panic attacks, not about everything that had been building inside him for so long.

Bobby's eyes softened. "You're not fooling anyone, Buck. We've seen you at your worst, but lately, it's been different. You've been on edge more than usual, and I know this isn't just about the job. It's about something else, isn't it?"

Buck swallowed, his throat tight. His mind screamed at him to tell Bobby the truth, to open up and finally let someone in. But the walls were up. They were thick, and they were high. And there was no way he could bring himself to tear them down.

"I'm fine," Buck said, the words coming out more like a plea than a statement. He hated himself for saying it, but the lie felt easier than the truth. The truth was too heavy.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "You're fine?" He didn't sound convinced. "Buck, I've seen how you've been. You're not fine."

"I'm just... stressed," Buck muttered, his gaze flicking downward. "It's nothing, Bobby. I've got a lot on my plate right now. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Rough couple of weeks?" Bobby repeated softly. "I don't buy it. You don't get to the point you were at today just from stress."

Buck's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the conversation settling around him, pressing down like a heavy stone. He wanted to push it all away, to pretend that Bobby's words weren't sinking in, but they were. He couldn't escape it.

"I've just... been feeling off," Buck finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like I can't catch my breath, like I'm drowning sometimes. I don't know, it's... I just can't keep up with everything, and it's... it's exhausting."

Bobby nodded slowly, his expression softening with empathy. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot, Buck. And I'm sure it's hard. But you don't have to do it alone. You don't have to keep everything bottled up."

"I'm not bottling anything up," Buck said quickly, too quickly. He could feel the heat in his chest rise, the defensiveness seeping into his tone. He couldn't let Bobby in—not on this.

But Bobby wasn't deterred. "You're not fooling me, Buck. And I'm not asking for all the details. I'm just asking you to let someone help. You've been pushing yourself harder than I've ever seen, and I know this job can wear you down, but what's really going on with you? What's at the root of it?"

Buck's hands gripped the edge of the chair, his nails digging into the wood. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let Bobby see everything. He couldn't let anyone see how broken he really felt.

"I'll be fine," he said, his voice tight with forced confidence. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

Bobby sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair and giving Buck a long, searching look. He wasn't buying it. Buck could see the concern in his eyes, the way Bobby was silently urging him to trust him. But Buck couldn't. Not with this. Not with his father.

"I know you will," Bobby said finally, his voice softer now. "But you don't have to do it alone. And if you ever want to talk... about anything, I'm here. The team's here. We're family."

Buck bit down on his lip, his chest tightening with the words he couldn't bring himself to say. He wanted to tell Bobby the truth so badly, but the words were lodged in his throat, stuck in a place he couldn't reach.

"I'm fine," Buck repeated again, though it sounded more like a plea for reassurance than anything else.

Bobby nodded, though he didn't seem convinced. He didn't push any further. "Alright, Buck. Just remember, you don't have to keep it all inside."

Buck nodded stiffly, standing up from the chair, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat, the ache in his chest.

"Thanks, Bobby," he muttered quietly, forcing a smile. "I'll be okay. Really."

Bobby didn't say anything else. He just watched as Buck walked toward the door, and for the briefest moment, there was a flash of understanding between them. But Buck wasn't ready to face it—not yet.

As Buck stepped out of the office and into the main area of the firehouse, the weight of the conversation lingered in the back of his mind. He knew Bobby was right. He knew he was barely holding it all together. But the truth was too raw, too painful to face, and there was no way he was ready to confront it—not with anyone.