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

The Start of the end

The next shift started like any other. The firehouse was alive with the usual morning hum: coffee brewing, radios buzzing, and Chim cracking his typical one-liners as Hen rolled her eyes. Eddie stood by his locker, glancing toward the door for Buck's arrival. Normally, Buck would stride in with his easy grin, tossing a sarcastic quip Eddie's way or diving straight into whatever mess Chim was stirring up.

But today was different. When Buck finally walked in, his shoulders were slouched, and his steps were sluggish. His usual vibrant energy was replaced with a quiet, almost mechanical motion as he moved toward his locker.

"Morning," Eddie said casually, keeping his tone light.

Buck barely looked up. "Hey," he muttered, his voice flat.

Eddie frowned, studying him closely. Buck's face looked pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes that even sleep couldn't disguise.

"You okay?" Eddie asked softly, stepping closer.

"Yeah. Fine," Buck replied quickly, but the way he avoided Eddie's gaze told another story.

Before Eddie could press further, Bobby called everyone over for the morning briefing. Buck slid into a seat at the table, sitting a little apart from the group. Eddie caught the way Buck's hands fidgeted under the table, his knee bouncing subtly—a telltale sign of his restlessness.

As Bobby outlined the day's drills and assignments, Buck barely seemed to register any of it. His eyes were fixed on the table, his focus drifting.

"You with us, Buck?" Bobby's voice pulled him back abruptly.

Buck blinked, startled. "Yeah, sorry. I'm here."

Bobby's eyes lingered on him for a moment, concern flickering in his expression, but he didn't push.

The shift progressed, but Buck's unusual behavior didn't go unnoticed. During the ladder drills, he moved slower than usual, his reactions delayed. When Hen asked him to help check the medical supplies, he nodded but ended up standing by the cabinet for several minutes, staring blankly at the contents.

"Earth to Buck," Hen said gently, waving a hand in front of his face.

Buck snapped out of his daze, looking at her as if he'd just realized where he was. "Sorry," he mumbled, stepping aside so she could take over.

Hen frowned, exchanging a glance with Chimney, who shrugged but looked equally concerned.

By lunchtime, the firehouse camaraderie was in full swing—banter flying back and forth around the table as everyone ate. Everyone except Buck, who sat quietly at the end of the table, pushing his food around his plate.

"You're not eating?" Chim asked, breaking the chatter.

Buck forced a small smile. "Not that hungry."

"Since when are you not hungry?" Chim teased, but there was an undercurrent of worry in his voice.

"Maybe he's just trying not to get sucked into your terrible cooking," Hen quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

The table laughed, but Buck's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He muttered something about needing air and got up, leaving his barely touched plate behind.

Eddie watched him go, his chest tightening.

Buck didn't go far—just outside the firehouse, where he leaned against the wall, staring out at the street. His arms were crossed tightly, his foot tapping nervously against the concrete.

Eddie followed after him, shutting the door softly behind him. "Buck?"

Buck tensed but didn't turn around.

Eddie stepped closer, his voice gentle. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine," Buck said quickly, too quickly.

"No, you're not," Eddie said firmly, his concern outweighing his hesitation.

Buck exhaled sharply, finally turning to face him. His expression was a mix of frustration and exhaustion. "What do you want me to say, Eddie? That I'm tired? That I feel like I'm walking through mud just trying to get through the day? That I'm doing everything I'm supposed to, but it still doesn't feel like enough?"

Eddie's heart ached at the rawness in Buck's voice. "You don't have to do this alone," he said softly.

Buck shook his head, looking down at his hands. "I don't even know how to explain it. I feel...heavy. Like I'm carrying this weight I can't put down. And I don't know how much longer I can keep carrying it."

Eddie stepped closer, placing a steady hand on Buck's shoulder. "Then let me help you carry it," he said, his voice unwavering.

Buck let out a shaky breath, his walls starting to crack.

Back inside, the team had noticed Buck's absence. Bobby glanced out the window, watching Eddie and Buck talk. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"We need to keep an eye on him," Bobby said quietly, his voice laced with concern.

Hen nodded. "Something's definitely off. He's not himself."

"He's been through a lot," Chim added, uncharacteristically serious. "Maybe it's all just catching up to him."

Athena, who had stopped by the station for lunch, looked out at Buck and Eddie. "He's lucky to have Eddie," she said softly.

"He's lucky to have all of us," Bobby replied. "We just need to make sure he knows that."

As the day wore on, Buck's behavior became harder to ignore. During a call, his usual precision and focus were replaced with hesitation, his movements less confident. He wasn't careless—he was too good a firefighter for that—but it was clear he wasn't fully present.

When they returned to the station, Bobby pulled Buck aside.

"You're not okay," Bobby said bluntly, cutting through any chance for deflection.

Buck opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby held up a hand.

"This isn't a criticism," Bobby said, his tone gentle. "We've all been there. But I need you to be honest with me—and with yourself."

Buck looked down, his jaw tightening.

Bobby softened his approach. "You don't have to do this alone, Buck. Whatever's going on, we'll face it together. But I can't help you if you won't let me in."

Buck's shoulders sagged, the weight of Bobby's words sinking in. He nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Bobby said, clapping him on the shoulder.