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

Bucks Nightmare

The quiet of the room was almost suffocating, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house settling. Eddie lay on his side of the bed, eyes closed but his mind racing. He had spent hours trying to process the conversation they had earlier—the mention of therapy, the moments where Buck had let himself be vulnerable, the fear and pain in his eyes. But now, as he glanced over at the figure curled on his side of the bed, Eddie couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over.

Buck lay curled up, his face partially buried in the pillow, his body tense as though he was in the middle of a fight. Eddie hesitated for a moment before he reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Buck's face. He was so still, so vulnerable in sleep, but there was something underneath—something that told Eddie it wasn't peaceful rest Buck was getting.

The muscles in Buck's back were taut, his breathing shallow, like he was trying to hold onto something in his dreams, trying to escape something just out of reach. Eddie's hand lingered for a moment, as if trying to anchor Buck in this moment of safety, before he drew it back slowly.

And then it started.

At first, it was subtle—a soft murmur of words slipping from Buck's lips, too quiet to understand. Eddie held his breath, straining to hear.

"No... not again... please, not her..."

Eddie's chest tightened. He knew it wasn't the first time Buck had called out in his sleep, but hearing it now, hearing the raw desperation in his voice, made something in Eddie twist painfully.

"Buck?" Eddie's voice was soft, just above a whisper, but Buck didn't stir. Instead, his breathing hitched, becoming more rapid, jagged, like he was caught in the middle of something far worse.

"No... don't... don't do this...!"

Buck's body jerked, his hand gripping the blanket so tightly his knuckles turned white. Eddie's heart clenched as Buck's face contorted in pain. It was a nightmare—he could tell that much—but it felt so real, so visceral, as if Buck were living through it all over again.

Eddie didn't know what to do. Should he wake him? But Buck wasn't awake, not really. He was stuck in the middle of it, caught between the nightmare and reality. Eddie's instinct was to reach out, to touch him, but he was afraid—afraid of breaking the fragile moment, of disturbing Buck in his nightmare and making it worse.

But Buck's murmurs were growing louder now, more frantic.

"Stop! Please... don't hurt her! Don't hurt her... I can't... I couldn't save her... I... I couldn't..."

Eddie's blood ran cold. He wanted to reach for him, to shake him awake and pull him back into safety, but his body stayed frozen in place. He couldn't stand hearing Buck—his strong, fearless Buck—utter words like that, like he was still trapped in the past, still haunted by something he couldn't change.

"No!" Buck gasped suddenly, his whole body tensing, his breath catching as though someone had just shoved the air out of his lungs. He twisted on the bed, his hands flailing as though trying to fight something invisible.

"Buck, it's okay!" Eddie's voice was louder now, but still soft enough to not startle him too much. "It's okay, I'm right here."

But Buck wasn't listening. He was too deep in it, too far gone into the nightmare.

"No, please, no... don't—don't go... Please, not you! Don't... don't leave me...!"

Eddie's heart broke at the sound of those words—so filled with grief, so raw, like he was reliving something unspeakable, something that had torn him apart.