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

The Weight of it All

The drive home was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the engine. Eddie glanced at Buck occasionally, his brows furrowing at how hollow Buck seemed. He was slouched against the passenger seat, his head leaning against the window, staring out into the darkening evening. The once-vivid spark in his eyes had dulled to an unsettling emptiness.

"Do you want to grab something to eat on the way home?" Eddie asked, breaking the silence.

Buck shook his head without looking at him. "I'm not hungry."

Eddie's stomach twisted. He'd been hearing that a lot from Buck lately. At first, he chalked it up to stress or exhaustion. But now, with everything else going on, it felt like another piece of a much larger puzzle.

"You sure?" Eddie pressed gently. "You didn't eat much at the station earlier."

"I said I'm fine," Buck replied sharply, his voice tinged with irritation. He sighed immediately after, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay," Eddie said softly, not taking his eyes off the road. "I just worry about you."

Buck didn't respond, and the rest of the drive was cloaked in silence.

At the house, Buck trudged in ahead of Eddie, dropping his bag by the door. He lingered in the living room, looking aimlessly at the bookshelf as if trying to distract himself. Eddie watched him for a moment before stepping into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab something small for himself.

"Want anything?" Eddie called over his shoulder.

"No," Buck answered quickly, too quickly.

Eddie frowned, setting his food on the counter. He leaned against the doorway, watching as Buck stood in the same spot, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Buck, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?" Eddie asked, his voice calm but firm.

Buck stiffened, his jaw tightening. "I don't know. Yesterday?"

"Really?" Eddie pressed.

Buck turned around, his expression defensive. "What does it matter?"

"It matters because you're running on fumes," Eddie said, his voice rising slightly. "You're not eating, you're barely sleeping, and—"

"And what?" Buck cut him off, his voice trembling. "And I'm falling apart? I know, Eddie! I know I'm a mess, okay?"

Eddie's heart sank at the sheer frustration and pain in Buck's voice. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "That's not what I'm saying, Buck. I just...I want to help you. But I can't if you keep shutting me out."

Buck's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked down at the floor, his voice barely audible. "I'm just not hungry, okay? It's not...I'm not doing it on purpose."

Eddie studied him, his chest tightening. He wanted to believe Buck, but the signs were becoming harder to ignore. The loose fit of his shirts, the way he seemed to avoid meals altogether—it all pointed to something deeper.

Later that night, Eddie sat on the couch, flipping through channels aimlessly while Buck retreated to the guest room. The house was quiet, but Eddie couldn't shake the heavy feeling in his chest.

He didn't know how to fix this.

In the guest room, Buck sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at his phone. The screen illuminated his tired face as he scrolled through old photos—pictures of the team at barbecues, laughing and carefree. Pictures of Maddie holding baby Jee-Yun. Pictures of himself, smiling, vibrant, and alive.

He barely recognized that version of himself anymore.

His stomach growled faintly, but he ignored it. The thought of eating made him feel nauseous, the pit in his stomach twisting into something darker.

Buck pressed his hands to his temples, his breathing quickening. The weight of it all—the memories, the expectations, the exhaustion—it was suffocating.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his chest tightening. His mind raced, thoughts swirling chaotically, each one louder than the last.

Why can't you just pull it together?
You're a burden to everyone.
Eddie's probably sick of you already.

He closed his eyes, willing the thoughts to stop, but they only grew louder. His breathing hitched, and tears slipped down the sides of his face, unbidden.

The next morning at the firehouse, the signs became harder to ignore.

"Buck, you okay, man?" Chim asked, watching as Buck stood by the coffee machine, staring blankly at the wall.

Buck startled slightly, looking at Chim as if he hadn't even heard the question. "Yeah. Fine."

Chim exchanged a worried glance with Hen, who was organizing the medical supplies nearby.

"Buck, you've been off lately," Hen said carefully. "We're all worried about you."

"I'm fine," Buck said again, his voice sharper this time. He grabbed his coffee and walked away, leaving Hen and Chim exchanging concerned looks.

During a call later that day, the cracks in Buck's armor became even more evident.

The team was responding to a car accident on the freeway. As they worked to free a trapped driver, Buck's movements were slower than usual, his reactions delayed.

"Buck, I need the jaws!" Eddie called out, urgency in his voice.

Buck blinked, realizing he'd been standing still, holding the tool but not moving. "Right. Sorry," he mumbled, handing it over.

Eddie gave him a worried look but didn't say anything.

By the end of the shift, Eddie had had enough.

As they headed home, Eddie broke the silence. "Buck, this can't keep going like this."

Buck didn't respond, staring out the window.

"Talk to me," Eddie urged. "Please."

Buck closed his eyes, his voice trembling. "I don't know how."

Eddie pulled the truck over to the side of the road, turning to face him. "Start with what you're feeling right now."

Buck looked at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "I feel...empty. And tired. All the time. Like no matter what I do, it's never enough."

Eddie reached over, gripping Buck's shoulder firmly. "It's enough for me," he said softly. "You're enough."

Buck broke then, leaning into Eddie as the tears came, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. Eddie held him, his heart breaking at the sheer weight of Buck's pain.

"We'll get through this," Eddie said, his voice steady. "One step at a time. Together."

Buck nodded weakly, clinging to Eddie like a lifeline. For the first time in weeks, he felt a small flicker of hope, fragile but present. And for now, that was enough.