Trauma changes people. trauma changes everyone.
All rights for the 9-1-1 cast and all rights to most of the plot goes to ABC. New plots and new characters belong to me 🫶
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BUCK
Eddie pushed open the door and stepped into the room. His eyes landed on Lydia, who was curled up on the hospital bed, fast asleep. The lines of worry on his face didn't ease as he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Did she eat anything else?" He asked quietly.
Miles, who was sitting near Lydia's bed, shook his head. "No. She probably won't," he said, his tone heavy with frustration. "She's upset."
Eddie exhaled sharply and walked over to sit beside me, slumping into the chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and I could see the exhaustion in his posture.
"They're trying to force a discharge," Eddie muttered, his voice tense.
My eyes widened, and I straightened in my seat. "What?"
Eddie nodded, his expression grim. "The hospital admins. They said her MRI just shows a concussion. That heals on its own. They can't justify keeping her here, especially with how packed they are."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "What about her seizure? Or the zoning-out episodes?"
"I don't know!" Eddie snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. He immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "I don't know, Buck. They don't seem to care. They just want to discharge her. Our doctor is trying to argue, but they aren't listening."
Miles, still seated by Lydia's bedside, shrugged. "It might be better for her," he said, his voice calm but uncertain. "Being at home, in a place she recognizes-it could help her."
Eddie shook his head. "She can't go home."
Miles and I exchanged a confused glance. I turned back to Eddie. "Why not? What about Carla? She could-"
"Carla's sick," Eddie interrupted, his voice heavy with regret. "She had COVID. Chris has been staying with my parents. They've been at the house, helping take care of him."
Miles finished the thought, his voice low. "Which means Lydia can't stay there either. It wouldn't end well."
"Exactly." Eddie nodded, his jaw tight.
The room fell into a tense silence. I looked over at Lydia, her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept. She looked so small, so fragile, and it broke my heart. This wasn't Lydia. The kind, happy girl who could hold her own against anyone-she was gone, replaced by someone who barely spoke, who barely ate, who seemed to have given up on herself.
I signed, leaning back in my chair. "She's shutting down," I said quietly. "On everyone around her. On herself."
Eddie didn't respond, but I could see the guilt in his eyes.
We sat in silence for a while, the weight of the situation pressing down on all of us. I wanted to say something, to fix this, but I didn't know how. All I could do was stay, to be here for Eddie, for Lydia, for all of them.
