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

Session Again

Buck's POV

It had been a few months since that night—the panic attack in the living room—and things hadn't gotten any easier. If anything, Buck felt like he was unraveling more with each passing day. But Eddie hadn't gone anywhere. Eddie stayed, quietly supporting him, helping him take each day one step at a time.

Buck had started seeing a therapist, like Eddie had insisted. The first session had been awkward, Buck's walls high, his words hesitant. He hated being vulnerable. He hated admitting to anyone—especially a stranger—that he wasn't okay. But Dr. Ramirez, the therapist Eddie had recommended, had been patient. She'd told him, more than once, that healing didn't look like a straight line. It was more like a messy, winding road, with plenty of bumps along the way.

And today, Buck was sitting in her office again, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of the chair. It had become a regular part of his routine now—therapy every week, sometimes twice if he felt like he needed it. But even after all this time, Buck still didn't feel fully comfortable. The words were hard to find. His thoughts jumbled together, like a fog he couldn't push through.

Dr. Ramirez sat across from him, her face calm, her eyes kind, but with an underlying sense of professionalism that reminded him he wasn't here for small talk. She was here to help him untangle the mess in his mind.

"How have you been feeling this week, Buck?" Dr. Ramirez asked, leaning forward slightly, her voice gentle.

Buck shifted in his seat, the familiar tightness in his chest making itself known. "I—I'm not really sure," he muttered, his gaze darting toward the floor. "It's been... up and down. Some days are okay. And then, out of nowhere, it feels like everything just gets too loud, too much."

Dr. Ramirez nodded, her expression understanding but not pitying. "It's okay to feel that way, Buck. Sometimes, our emotions can be overwhelming, especially when we've been carrying them for a long time. Can you pinpoint when it gets overwhelming for you? Is there a specific trigger?"

Buck shook his head, the frustration bubbling up. "I don't know. Sometimes, it's nothing. Sometimes, it's everything. I'll be fine, and then—" He stopped himself, his voice trailing off. His hands clenched into fists, the familiar sense of panic creeping up on him like a dark cloud. "I feel like I'm drowning, and I can't get a breath in."

Dr. Ramirez's voice softened. "It sounds like you're feeling trapped. Like there's a weight on your chest that you can't escape from."

Buck's jaw clenched. He hated the way she could so easily name the feeling, the sensation that he couldn't explain. But it was true. Every time the panic hit, he felt like he was suffocating. It wasn't just the physical sensation—it was the way it consumed him. It would squeeze the air out of his lungs, pull the ground out from under him, and leave him gasping for something—anything—to keep him grounded.

"I don't know how to control it," he admitted, his voice small. "I try to fight it, but it gets worse. And when I can't breathe... when I can't get out of my head... it scares the hell out of me."

Dr. Ramirez nodded again. "That's a natural reaction, Buck. When we're confronted with something that feels uncontrollable, our bodies respond with fear. The fight-or-flight response kicks in, and it becomes hard to think clearly. But we can work on building tools to manage those moments, to ground yourself before they take over. Do you remember some of the techniques we've worked on?"

Buck let out a frustrated sigh. "I've tried, but it's hard when I feel like I'm already drowning. I can't focus. I can't think. It's like my brain just shuts down."

"That's because in moments of panic, your brain is trying to protect you. But the trick is learning how to calm your body and mind enough to regain control. You've been through so much, Buck. Your brain is wired to protect you from danger, but we can teach it that you're safe now. That you don't have to fight anymore."

Buck frowned, looking down at his hands. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that someday, it wouldn't feel like his brain was working against him. But there was still that nagging feeling, that worry that he would always be broken. That he would always be stuck in this cycle of fear.

Dr. Ramirez seemed to sense his doubt. "It's okay to feel unsure. It's okay to take this one step at a time. We'll keep practicing the tools we've worked on—breathing exercises, grounding techniques. But we'll also dig deeper into the underlying causes of these feelings. You've been through trauma, Buck. Trauma that hasn't been addressed. And it's important to understand that trauma doesn't just go away on its own. But it can heal. It can be managed."

Buck felt a lump in his throat at her words. He hadn't really let himself think about the full weight of his trauma, not until now. It was easier to just push it down and pretend it wasn't there. But the longer he avoided it, the harder it became to ignore. The panic, the anxiety—it was like a constant reminder of everything he had been through.

He looked up at Dr. Ramirez, feeling the rawness of his emotions threatening to spill over. "I don't know if I can handle it. The idea of facing all that... it feels too much."

"I know it's hard," she said softly. "But you don't have to face it all at once. We'll take it slow. One piece at a time. And you won't be doing it alone. You have people who care about you, Buck. People who are here to support you every step of the way."

Buck's chest tightened again, but this time, it wasn't from panic—it was something else. A strange, unfamiliar feeling. Hope.

"Eddie," Buck whispered, his voice thick. "He's been with me through all of this. Even when I... I pushed him away. I don't deserve it. But he's still there."

"You deserve love, Buck," Dr. Ramirez said, her voice kind but firm. "You deserve support. You're not a burden. You're human. And you're allowed to lean on those who care about you."

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free, and Buck didn't fight them. He let them come, feeling the weight of everything he had been carrying—the guilt, the fear, the shame—all of it, crashing down in that moment. He wasn't alone anymore. And that, somehow, felt like the first step in healing.

Eddie's POV

Eddie was waiting outside the office when Buck finally walked out, his face a little flushed, his eyes red from crying. He stood up immediately when he saw Buck, concern flashing across his face.

"How'd it go?" Eddie asked gently, stepping forward to meet him.

Buck hesitated for a moment before giving Eddie a small, shaky smile. "It... it went okay."

Eddie's gaze softened, sensing that there was more beneath Buck's words. "You okay?"

Buck nodded, but Eddie could see the emotional weight still hanging on him. "Yeah. It's just... a lot. But I'm trying."

Eddie stepped forward and pulled Buck into a hug, not caring about the people walking by, not caring about anything other than holding Buck close. "You're doing great," he murmured, his voice low. "You're doing the hardest thing, Buck. And I'm so proud of you."

Buck buried his face in Eddie's shoulder, the tears still falling freely now. He didn't have to say anything else. Eddie didn't need words to understand that this was just the beginning of Buck's journey. But he was right there with him. Every step of the way.