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

Eddies Breakdown

The firehouse had never felt so empty, not in a literal sense, but emotionally. The air felt heavy, suffocating. Eddie was still reeling from the conversation he'd just had with his team, the fragile weight of his own emotions crashing down on him. He thought he was okay, thought he had managed to hold it all together, but now—alone in the quiet of the station—he could feel the cracks begin to form. His hands were trembling, and he had trouble catching his breath. The panic that had threatened to break him earlier was returning, faster and harder than before.

It had been building for days, weeks even. The fear for Buck. The lingering guilt, wondering if he was doing enough. Wondering if he was really the person Buck needed him to be. If he was enough. If anyone would be enough.

It wasn't just Buck's torment, his nightmares, his broken heart. It was his own wounds, his own fears, his past, that had dug into him too deeply. The trauma he had experienced after Afghanistan still haunted him, even now. The panic attacks he'd tried to dismiss, the memories of holding his breath on that bridge, praying that Buck wouldn't jump. It was all too much. Too much for one person to hold.

And now, his body was betraying him, showing him just how much he had been keeping inside for far too long.

Bobby's voice echoed in his head, but he couldn't hear it clearly anymore. "It's okay to let it out. We're here for you."

But Eddie couldn't. He wasn't sure how to let go. He wasn't sure he could even trust himself to let it out without falling apart completely.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it only felt like his chest was being crushed under a weight he couldn't explain. Every time he tried to inhale, his body didn't cooperate. It was like trying to breathe through concrete.

The shaking started slowly, his hands first, then his arms. His legs followed, a slight tremor at first, but it quickly escalated. He couldn't stop it. His breath came in short, frantic bursts, and he gasped for air, feeling like he was choking.

The walls of the firehouse seemed to close in on him, the space shrinking, becoming smaller and smaller with every passing second. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as though trying to escape. Sweat formed on his brow, his neck, and his back. His vision blurred, and for a moment, everything around him felt distant. The firehouse, his friends, the reality of the situation—it all seemed like it was far away, almost like he was watching himself from a distance.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to reach out and ask for help. But something inside him, some deep part of himself, was still too proud to let anyone see the extent of his pain.

But that pride was crumbling now. He couldn't keep up the façade any longer.

"Eddie," a voice whispered from behind him. He turned to see Bobby, standing at the entrance to the hallway, looking at him with concern in his eyes. The older man's face softened as he took a few steps forward, his tone cautious. "You're not alone. We're here for you."

"I... I can't... I can't breathe," Eddie rasped, his throat tight. His hands were clutching his sides, as though trying to hold himself together.

Bobby's expression tightened, his concern growing. "It's okay, Eddie. Just breathe. We're here."

But Eddie couldn't hear him anymore. He couldn't hear anything except the deafening sound of his own panicked breath. It was as though the world had narrowed down to just him and his terror, and everything around him was fading away.

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, his body shaking uncontrollably. He clutched his chest as though trying to hold himself together, but it wasn't enough. His heart pounded in his ears, and he could feel himself losing control.