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

Dad?

The firehouse was buzzing with energy, the sound of chatter and laughter filling the air as the crew prepped for the day ahead. Buck sat in the front of the fire engine, his usual mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at Eddie, who was sitting beside him.

"Bet you can't beat me to the hydrant," Buck challenged, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly toward him, the corners of his lips lifting. "You really think you can outrun me, Buck?" he teased back, his voice low and full of warmth.

The engine roared to life, and the crew rolled out, weaving through the streets of the city. Buck leaned back in his seat, staring out of the window, completely at ease. The sun was high, casting a golden glow over the buildings. For the first time in a while, Buck felt genuinely calm. He'd been through so much, but today—today felt different. His chest was lighter. His laughter, louder.

"I think you forget how fast I can run," Buck said, grinning at Eddie, who shook his head with a laugh of his own. It had become rare these days to hear the full-bodied, carefree sound of Buck's laugh, but today, it seemed to be flowing effortlessly. It was a sound that lit up the entire firehouse, and it had Eddie's heart racing just a little faster than usual.

"Yeah, right," Eddie replied, a teasing smirk on his face. He didn't believe it for a second. But Buck's unbridled enthusiasm was contagious, and Eddie found himself caught up in it, laughing along with him.

"Okay, maybe I can't outrun you," Buck conceded with a dramatic sigh, throwing his arms up. "But you can't deny I'd totally beat you at a thumb war."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "A thumb war? Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously." Buck crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back even further. "No one's ever beaten me. Not even Chimney."

"Chimney?" Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're talking about the same Chimney who can barely tie his shoes, right?"

Buck gave him a sidelong glance, his grin wide and genuine. "Yeah, well, he doesn't like to talk about it, but he's definitely lost. Twice. And once, he even cried."

Eddie's laugh came easily, and for a brief moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. There was no weight on their shoulders, no lingering anxiety, just the joy of the moment.

As the fire engine rolled through the streets, Buck's mind drifted briefly, but only for a moment. Everything felt right. He felt grounded. He didn't feel like the same person who'd been barely holding himself together just months ago. But that's what made moments like this so precious. They didn't feel like they were earned or fought for—they were just... natural.

The call came through, and the fun banter shifted to professional focus. Buck's smile faded just slightly as the team clicked into gear. The engine swerved around the corner, tires screeching as they came to a halt outside a building.

Buck immediately grabbed his gear and hopped out, his feet hitting the ground in one smooth motion.

"Stay safe!" Eddie called after him, his tone soft but full of meaning.

Buck glanced back over his shoulder, offering Eddie a smile that was nothing short of radiant. His eyes softened as he met Eddie's gaze—just a small, subtle moment. But Eddie felt the weight of it. The feeling that everything was shifting, everything that was once uncertain was starting to make sense.

"Always," Buck called back, his voice filled with a quiet confidence. It was more than just a reassurance; it was a promise.

Eddie's heart fluttered for a brief second. And maybe it was just the adrenaline or the moment, but as the team worked their way inside, Eddie let his eyes linger on Buck's back for a heartbeat too long.

The team moved like clockwork, setting everything up. The fire was contained quickly, the danger controlled, but it wasn't until they were loading their equipment back into the engine that Buck caught Eddie's gaze again. His expression softened, a flicker of something deeper passing through his eyes. Eddie wasn't sure if Buck noticed it, but there was something undeniably tender in the way their eyes met for a split second.

"Hey, we're gonna grab dinner after this, right?" Buck asked, breaking the moment with his usual eagerness.

Eddie didn't need to think twice. "Of course."

Buck grinned, a real grin that was wide and unguarded, and Eddie's chest tightened a little at the sight of it. He didn't have to say anything more. They both knew it wasn't just about dinner. It was about these moments. The ones where they felt like themselves, no pretenses, no expectations. Just Buck and Eddie.

When they arrived, the scene was chaotic—police cruisers blocked the perimeter, and a small crowd had gathered behind yellow caution tape. The team moved swiftly, setting up equipment as Buck and Eddie followed Bobby toward the victim, who lay bleeding in the middle of the street.

Buck dropped to his knees, his hands moving automatically as he began to stabilize the victim. His voice was calm, professional. "I've got a pulse, but it's weak. We need to stop the bleeding."

Eddie was right beside him, handing over supplies as they worked in tandem. The victim groaned, their body trembling beneath Buck's hands, but they clung to consciousness.

Then, without warning, Buck felt it. A shift. That strange sensation of being watched.

He glanced up, and across the chaotic scene, he locked eyes with someone—a sniper perched in the distance, their gaze sharp and unyielding, fixed directly on him.

Time seemed to freeze.

The world around Buck faded, the sound of sirens, shouting officers, and Eddie's voice all becoming muffled and distant. The sniper's eyes bored into his, and for a heartbeat, Buck couldn't move, couldn't think.  It was dad.