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

On His Own

The sirens screamed through the streets, a shrill reminder of the chaos unfolding just ahead. The 118 was in full gear, speeding toward the scene of a multi-car pile-up on the freeway. Buck's mind raced as he focused on the flashing lights in the distance, pushing down the rising dread creeping up from his stomach.

When they pulled up, the sight was worse than he could have imagined. A tangled mess of metal, debris scattered across the road like confetti, and people—injured and frantic, trying to escape their mangled vehicles.

Buck's heart started to race. His breathing came in quick, shallow gasps as he quickly slid into firefighter mode, falling into routine. He pulled his mask over his face and rushed to the scene, blocking out the growing panic that started to gnaw at him from the inside.

He had done this a thousand times—responded to fires, wrecks, life-threatening emergencies. He was good at his job. But today, something felt different. The rush of adrenaline mixed with a deep, gnawing anxiety, twisting into something darker.

A voice called out to him—one of the victims, barely conscious, calling for help. His eyes locked onto her, a woman pinned between two crushed cars. She was struggling to breathe, her face pale from the trauma.

"Help... please," she gasped, her hand outstretched.

Focus. He had to focus. This was his job. This was what he was trained for.

But the air felt too thick. It was as if his lungs had shrunk. The flashing lights, the sound of sirens, the screams—it all started to overwhelm him, pressing in from all sides. His heart was thumping, too fast, too erratic. And then came the familiar sensation of tightness in his chest. It felt like a vice, squeezing him in.

No, not now. He couldn't afford this now.

He dropped to his knees beside the woman, trying to keep his hands steady as he checked her vitals. But his vision began to blur at the edges, his thoughts slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Focus, Buck," he muttered to himself, forcing a breath in through his nose, but the air felt shallow. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. His head spun, the world around him tilting. He could hear his pulse in his ears, faster and faster.

Everything was closing in on him.

"Hey," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "You've been through this before, Buck. You can do this. You can get through this."

The voice in his head was distant, muffled by the rising tide of panic. He tried to push the thoughts aside—You're safe. You're fine. You're doing your job. But the fear refused to go away, gnawing at him relentlessly.

He felt the panic swell, felt it crawl its way up his chest, climbing higher and higher. He needed to get out, needed to leave before it consumed him. But he couldn't. There was no escape—not now. Not in the middle of this emergency. He couldn't just walk away.

The woman's face swam in his vision. She was still waiting for him, still needing him.

No.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to take a step back from the panic. Focus, Buck. Focus on what you can control.

His breathing was still ragged, his chest still tight, but he remembered what Dr. Ramirez had taught him—those grounding techniques. The ones that had worked in the past, the ones that Eddie had encouraged him to practice when things felt like they were spiraling.

Buck closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. He couldn't let the panic take over. Not here. Not now.

First, he focused on the air. The air that felt thin, but still there. He inhaled through his nose, counting to four. Hold for four. Exhale through his mouth, counting again. He repeated the cycle, focusing only on the steady rhythm of his breath.

In for four.

Out for four.

In.

Out.

The world around him didn't disappear, but it felt a little quieter. A little more manageable.

He pressed his palms against his knees, grounding himself further, feeling the hard concrete beneath him. The sensation was real, present. It anchored him to the moment.

Buck's heartbeat began to slow. His vision cleared just a little. He could still hear the chaos around him, but it didn't feel like it was closing in. He didn't feel trapped. He wasn't suffocating.

Another breath in. Another breath out.

He opened his eyes, his focus sharper now. He could see the woman in front of him, her desperate eyes locked onto his. The panic was still there, lurking at the edges, but it wasn't drowning him anymore. He was still in control.

"Hang on, okay?" Buck's voice was steadier now, a little more confident. "I'm going to get you out of here."

He reached for his radio and called out to the team, his hands still shaking slightly but no longer trembling with overwhelming fear.

"Got a victim pinned between two cars," he said, his voice clear despite the tightness in his chest. "Need extraction ASAP."

As he spoke, he kept his breathing slow, methodical. In for four, out for four. The tightness in his chest was there, but it didn't dominate him. He wasn't controlled by it. He wasn't helpless anymore.

The extraction team arrived a moment later, and Buck helped guide them through the process of freeing the woman from the wreckage. The woman was conscious, a little disoriented but alive. They worked together to stabilize her, carefully lifting her onto a stretcher. The moment she was safely out of the car, Buck let out a long, shaky breath.

He did it. He made it through.

The panic didn't completely vanish, but for the first time, Buck knew he had a way to manage it on his own. He didn't need to rely on Eddie in every moment. He could get through it, even if it was just one breath at a time.

As the woman was loaded into the ambulance, Buck took a step back, his chest still tight but his mind clearer than it had been before. He wasn't fully healed. He wasn't completely free of the panic that haunted him, but he was learning to live with it. Learning to manage it, to take it one moment at a time.