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

Therapy Talk

The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and the soft ticking of the clock in the living room. Buck sat curled up on the couch, wrapped tightly in a blanket. His legs were drawn up, and his hands gripped the fabric as though it was the only thing holding him together. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath shallow and labored.

Across from him, Eddie placed two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table. He sat down slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes never left Buck, scanning for signs of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

For a while, neither of them said a word. Eddie gave Buck space, understanding that sometimes silence was safer than trying to fill it. But as the seconds ticked by, the weight of the unspoken began to press down on him.

Finally, Buck broke the quiet, his voice hoarse and trembling. "I don't know how to do this anymore," he admitted, his gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. "I feel like... like I'm stuck in this cycle, and every time I think I'm okay, something happens, and it all comes crashing down again."

Eddie's chest tightened. The anguish in Buck's voice was palpable, and he wanted nothing more than to take it away. But he knew this was a battle Buck had to face for himself—with the right support.

"You've been through a lot," Eddie said gently, his tone steady but filled with empathy. "More than anyone should ever have to. Losing your mom, your dad's abuse, the bridge... Buck, it's all too much for one person to carry on their own."

Buck's head snapped up, his eyes defensive. "I'm not carrying it on my own," he said quickly. "I'm talking to you, aren't I? I'm trying."

"I know you are," Eddie replied, his voice calm and reassuring. "And you're doing the best you can. But this... it's bigger than just us talking. You need more than what I can give you."

Buck's jaw tightened, his hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "What are you saying?"

Eddie took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "I think you should talk to someone. A therapist."

The suggestion hit Buck like a blow. His posture stiffened, and he shook his head vehemently. "I don't need a therapist," he said, his voice tinged with panic. "I just need time. I'll get through this on my own."

"Buck..." Eddie leaned closer, his voice firm but compassionate. "You're not okay. The panic attacks, the breakdowns, the nightmares... they're not going away on their own. And that's okay. What you're feeling is normal after everything you've been through. But you don't have to fight this battle alone."

Buck's hands fidgeted with the blanket, his movements restless and agitated. "I don't want to talk to a stranger about this. I can't."

"I get it," Eddie said softly. "It's scary. Opening up to someone you don't know, admitting how much you're struggling—it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do. But it can also be one of the most healing."

Buck's breathing quickened, his anxiety bubbling to the surface. "I've been fine without one before. Why can't I just... keep going? Why does everyone keep telling me I'm not okay?"

Eddie moved closer, his presence grounding. "Because we care about you, Buck. And we can see how much pain you're in. Look at what's happened in just the past few weeks. The panic attacks have been getting worse. You've been collapsing at work, breaking down in front of the team..." He paused, his voice softening. "And then there's the bridge."

Buck flinched at the mention of the bridge, his breathing becoming erratic. "I wasn't thinking," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I wasn't going to do anything."

Eddie's heart broke at the fear in Buck's voice. He reached out, placing a steadying hand on Buck's shoulder. "But you stopped there, Buck. You called me. That tells me you were struggling more than you want to admit. And that's okay. But it's not something you can ignore."

Tears welled in Buck's eyes, and he turned his face away, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to feel like this anymore. But what if it doesn't help? What if I'm just... broken?"

"You're not broken," Eddie said firmly, his grip on Buck's shoulder tightening. "You're hurting. And what you've been through—the things your dad has done, losing your mom the way you did—it's trauma, Buck. You've been through hell, and it's left scars. But you can heal from this. You don't have to carry it forever."

Buck's defenses began to crumble, his body trembling as he let out a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I'm scared."

"I know," Eddie said softly. "And that's okay. It's okay to be scared. But you're not alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."

Buck looked at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "Did it really help you?" he asked hesitantly.

Eddie nodded, his expression earnest. "It did. After Afghanistan, I thought I'd never feel normal again. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the guilt... it felt like I was drowning. But talking to someone helped me understand what I was going through. It didn't fix everything, but it gave me the tools to deal with it."

Buck swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. "What if I can't talk about it?"

"You don't have to say everything all at once," Eddie assured him. "You start with one step. Just showing up is enough at first. And over time, it gets easier."

Buck's shoulders shook as he let out a sob, his tears spilling over. "I just miss her so much," he whispered. "And my dad... I don't know how to face him anymore."

Eddie pulled him into a gentle hug, letting Buck cry against his shoulder. "You don't have to do this alone," he murmured. "We'll face it together. One step at a time."

For a moment, Buck let himself lean into Eddie's support, the weight of his grief and pain momentarily lessened. He didn't know what the future held, but for the first time, he allowed himself to hope that maybe—just maybe—he could find a way through.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice trembling. "I'll try."

Eddie pulled back slightly, meeting Buck's tear-filled gaze. "That's all I'm asking," he said with a small, encouraging smile. "Just one step."