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

A Difference Since Court

The therapy office was quiet, the faint hum of a fan the only sound as Buck sat on the couch, staring at a small plant on the coffee table. His therapist, Dr. Martinez, sat across from him, her posture relaxed, a notebook balanced on her lap.

This was his third session since the trial. The first two had been... rocky. Buck wasn't good at opening up, especially to strangers, and the weight of everything he'd been carrying made it hard to even know where to start. But Dr. Martinez had been patient, never pushing too hard, letting Buck set the pace.

"How have you been feeling since the trial?" Dr. Martinez asked, her voice calm and steady.

Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? A mess."

Dr. Martinez nodded, her expression encouraging him to continue.

"I thought I'd feel... lighter, I guess. Like getting everything out in the open would make it easier to move on. But it hasn't. I feel like I'm walking around with this huge weight on my chest, and I don't know how to get rid of it."

"It's not uncommon to feel that way," Dr. Martinez said gently. "The trial was a significant step, but it's only one part of the healing process. You've carried this pain for a long time, Buck. Letting go of it isn't going to happen overnight."

Buck nodded, swallowing hard. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

"Have you been able to identify what's causing that weight? Is it fear? Anger? Guilt?"

Buck hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his hoodie. "All of it, I think. I'm angry at my dad for what he did, for how he made me feel. But I'm also scared. Scared that no matter what I do, I'll always be that scared little kid who wasn't good enough. And... I feel guilty. Guilty that I didn't speak up sooner. That I let him control me for so long."

Dr. Martinez nodded again, her pen moving across the page. "It's a lot to carry, Buck. But the fact that you're here, talking about it, means you're ready to start unpacking it."

Buck huffed a weak laugh. "It doesn't feel like it. Most days, I just feel stuck."

"That's okay," Dr. Martinez said. "Healing isn't linear. Some days, you'll feel like you're making progress, and other days, it'll feel like you're back at square one. But the important thing is to keep going, even when it's hard."

Buck looked down at his hands, his chest tight. "What if I don't know how to let go? What if I can't?"

Dr. Martinez leaned forward slightly, her tone soft but firm. "You don't have to do it all at once. Healing isn't about forgetting what happened or pretending it didn't hurt. It's about learning to live with it in a way that doesn't define you. It's about finding your own strength in the face of it."

Her words hit Buck like a wave, and he felt tears prick at his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but Dr. Martinez didn't seem fazed.

"It's okay to feel this, Buck," she said. "You've been through a lot, and it's okay to let yourself feel the pain, the anger, the fear. Those feelings don't make you weak—they make you human."

Buck nodded, swallowing hard. "It's just... hard. I don't know where to start."

"You've already started," Dr. Martinez said with a small smile. "You're here, you're talking, and you're allowing yourself to feel. That's a big step."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her words settling over Buck like a blanket. He didn't feel better—not yet—but he felt... something. A tiny spark of hope, flickering in the darkness.

"Let's try something," Dr. Martinez said after a moment. "Close your eyes and take a deep breath. I want you to picture a place where you feel safe, where you feel at peace. It can be anywhere—a real place or something from your imagination."

Buck hesitated but did as she said, closing his eyes and taking a slow, shaky breath. He thought of the beach—soft sand beneath his feet, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, the salty breeze on his skin.

"Got it?" Dr. Martinez asked gently.

"Yeah," Buck murmured.

"Good. Now, whenever you feel that weight on your chest, I want you to try this exercise. Take a moment to ground yourself, to remind yourself that you're safe. It won't make the feelings go away, but it can help you manage them."

Buck opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Dr. Martinez said with a smile.

As the session came to an end, Buck felt a little lighter—not because everything was fixed, but because he felt like he had a direction, a place to start.

When he stepped out of the office and into the bright afternoon sun, Eddie was waiting for him by the truck, leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

"How'd it go?" Eddie asked as Buck approached.

Buck shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It's... a work in progress."

Eddie grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's all it needs to be."

And for the first time in a long time, Buck believed him.