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Eddie notices it.
The way Buck's smile was too wide and how his laugh was too clipped.
Buck had been acting this way for weeks.
It felt like every since Bobby’s died they had been so distant. Even more distant with Buck even when he was in Texas.
Are you good?” Eddie asked casually as they checked their gear, keeping his voice light.
Buck didn’t even look up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Too fast. Too flat.
Eddie frowned. “You sure? You’ve been—”
Buck cut him off with a quick grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Eddie, I’m fine. Seriously. Don’t start.”
And just like that, the wall went up.
Before Eddie could push back, the alarm rung, dispatch crackled over the radio, and the moment slipped through his fingers.
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“Alright, 118,” Chimney called out, already assessing the scene. “We’ve got a woman in her thirties with a laceration to the epigastric region. She’s conscious.”
Hen and Eddie moved immediately, dropping to the woman’s side. Chim’s gaze swept the area once before locking on Buck.
“Buck, sweep the building. Make sure nobody else is inside. Go.”
Buck was already moving. He grabbed his flashlight and headed down the hallway, voice loud and steady as training kicked in. “LAFD. Call out.”
The building was clean, almost sterile. Bright white walls. Desks scattered with old paperwork and outdated computers that looked like they hadn’t been replaced in years. Everything felt normal. Too normal.
Buck turned a corner and that was when it happened.
A sharp sting brushed the back of his neck, barely there, followed immediately by a sudden shove. Buck stumbled backward, heart slamming into his ribs, but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground.
“What the hell?” he muttered, spinning around.
No one was there.
The hallway was empty.
His hand went instinctively to the back of his neck. When he pulled it away, his fingers were red. Blood. Not much, but enough to make his stomach twist.
Buck reached for his radio.
Before he could speak, it crackled to life. “Buck, grab the gurney,” Bobby ordered.
Buck hesitated, staring down the empty hallway. The cold sensation in his veins was already fading, easy to explain away if he tried hard enough.
This can wait, he told himself.
He turned back toward the exit, forcing his breathing to steady, his expression neutral as he stepped outside.
Oh, how wrong he was.
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Buck did not sleep.
He felt every fiber of himself. The way his skin stretched when he walked. The way his eyes felt when he blinked. The way his tongue felt in his mouth.
He stood in the middle of his apartment long after the sun went down, keys still in his hand, listening. Every sound felt too loud. The hum of the fridge. The creak of the building is settling. His heart refused to slow.
He checked the front door. Locked.
He checked it again.
Then the windows. The bathroom. The closet. Every light stayed on. The shadows felt wrong, stretching too far, hiding too much. Buck pressed his back to the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, breathing hard, fingers still rubbing at the back of his neck like he could feel something there.
Nothing was there.
That didn’t help.
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The next morning, the firehouse felt too bright.
“Damn, Buck,” Chimney said, eyeing him over his coffee. “You look like hell.”
Hen nodded. “You sleep at all?”
Buck shrugged, staring at his hands. “Just had trouble falling asleep.”
It wasn’t a lie. It also wasn’t the truth.
Eddie watched him carefully, brow furrowed. Buck was quiet. Not his usual focused quiet either. This was different. Like he was somewhere else entirely.
They were called out before anyone could press further.
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The call started normally enough. A patient who didn’t want help, pacing, shouting, waving his arms. Buck tried to talk him down, voice tight, eyes flicking around the room.
“Sir, we’re just trying to help you,” Buck said.
“Get away from me,” the man snapped. “You don’t touch me.”
Something in Buck cracked.
“Then stop acting like this is a fucking joke,” Buck shot back. “Let me do my fucking job you son of a—”
“Buck,” Chimney snapped sharply. “Get in the truck.”
Buck blinked like he’d just realized where he was. “I didn’t— I was just—”
“Now,” Chimney said, stepping in smoothly. “I got it.”
Buck backed off, jaw clenched, hands shaking slightly at his sides.
No one said anything else on the ride back.
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For the next call, Chim kept Buck behind.
Buck watched from the bay as the engine pulled out without him. The sound of it echoed in his chest, loud and hollow.
Hen glanced at Eddie. “That wasn’t like him.”
“No,” Eddie said quietly. “Not at all.”
“He’s been off since yesterday,” Chimney added. “Something’s wrong.”
When the team returned, Chimney didn’t hesitate. “Buck, go home.”
Buck looked up too fast. “I’m fine.”
“Go home,” Chimney repeated, gentler this time.
Buck nodded immediately, almost desperately. He grabbed his bag, hands fumbling, eyes darting around the room like he couldn’t wait to be out of it. He didn’t say goodbye. He just left.
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Eddie didn’t wait long after his shift ended.
Buck’s apartment door opened after the third knock. Buck looked worse than he had that morning. Pale. Wired. Eyes too bright.
“Buck,” Eddie said softly. “Are you alright?”
Buck laughed, short and sharp. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you’re not acting like yourself,” Eddie said, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”
“I said I’m fine,” Buck snapped, voice rising. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just tired. Is that a crime now?”
Eddie stopped, startled.
Buck’s breathing was fast, uneven. His hands were clenched into fists.
“I don’t need you hovering,” Buck added, harsher now. “I can handle myself.”
The words hung between them, brittle and wrong.
And Eddie knew, with absolute certainty, that Buck was lying to both of them
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The firehouse was too quiet.
Not the calm, end-of-shift quiet everyone loved, but the kind that sat heavy in the air, like everyone was waiting for something to break.
Hen leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. “He didn’t say a word on the ride back. Not one.”
Chimney nodded slowly. “That’s not Buck.”
Eddie hadn’t stopped pacing. “I stopped by his place last night,” he said, voice low. “He sounded really off. Kept saying he was fine, but he wouldn’t let me in. Wouldn’t even turn the lights down.”
Hen frowned. “That bad?”
“He was jumpy,” Eddie said. “Like he was listening for something that wasn’t there.”
Chimney sighed. “Okay. So we agree. This isn’t just lack of sleep.”
Before anyone could answer, footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Fast. Uneven.
They all turned just as Buck came up the stairs.
He looked wired. Shoulders tight, jaw clenched, eyes scanning the room like he was walking into a trap instead of his own firehouse. He froze when he realized everyone was looking at him.
“What?” Buck snapped. “Why are you all staring?”
“Hey,” Hen said gently. “No one’s staring.”
Buck laughed, sharp and humorless. “Yeah. Sure.”
Chimney took a careful step forward. “Buck, we were just talking. We’re worried about you. Why don’t you sit.”
“There it is,” Buck said immediately. “That look. That tone.”
“Buck,” Eddie said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Something’s wrong. You know it.”
Buck shook his head hard. “No. You think something’s wrong. That’s different.”
“No one thinks you’re crazy,” Hen said quickly.
Buck’s eyes locked onto her. “You do.”
“No,” she said firmly. “We think you’re scared.”
That did it.
Buck backed away, hands coming up like he needed space, like the walls were closing in. “Don’t say that. Don’t label me like that.”
“We just want to help,” Chimney said. “That’s it.”
“You keep saying that,” Buck shot back. “But this is exactly how it starts. Everyone whispered. Watching. Deciding I’m a problem.”
“Buck, listen to me,” Eddie said, stepping closer. “You’re not a problem. You’re our family.”
“Stop coming closer,” Buck warned.
Chimney ignored the warning, moving slowly, palms open. “Hey. It’s okay. Just breathe with me.”
Buck’s breathing went ragged. “Get away from me.”
“Buck—”
Buck shoved him.
Chimney stumbled back into a table, knocking it hard enough to rattle the room. The sound echoed, loud and final.
Hen gasped. “Buck!”
Buck looked horrified for half a second. Then the fear surged back stronger than before.
“You see?” Buck said wildly. “You’re trying to corner me.”
“No one is cornering you,” Eddie said urgently. “But you’re not in control right now.”
“Don’t touch me,” Buck yelled.
Eddie moved fast, coming up behind Buck and pulling him down to the floor before he could bolt. Buck fought back hard, twisting and kicking, panic driving every movement.
“Buck please let us help you!” Eddie says before getting an elbow to the face.
“Hen!”
“Got it Eddie” hen says before running up the stairs.
“Let me go!” Buck shouted. “You’re proving my point!”
“We’re trying to keep you safe,” Eddie said through clenched teeth, holding on. “I’ve got you.”
Then Hen was there “im so sorry Buck” and stabbed him with the needle.
Buck struggled until his strength started to fade, his movements losing their sharp edge. His voice broke. “Please. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” Eddie said softly, voice shaking. “I know.” Holding on to Buck with strong arms.
When it was over, Buck went still, breathing uneven, eyes unfocused. Eddie stayed right there, arms locked around him like letting go would make everything worse.
The firehouse was silent again.
This time, no one felt relieved
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The monitor kept its steady rhythm as the ambulance rolled forward.
Eddie stayed close, watching Buck’s face, grounding himself in the simple fact that Buck was still breathing. Still here.
Hen adjusted the leads, eyes flicking between the screen and Buck’s vitals. “Pressure’s stabilizing.”
Chimney nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “This escalation doesn’t make sense. Panic is one thing. This was… different.”
Eddie didn’t answer right away.
He reached up to move Buck’s hair back, careful not to disturb anything. That was when he saw it. A small mark at the edge of Buck’s hairline. Easy to miss unless you were looking for it.
“Hey,” Eddie said quietly. “Do either of you see that?”
Hen leaned in, her expression tightening. “That looks like a puncture.”
Chimney frowned. “Could be from anything. Bug bite. Scrape.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said slowly. “Could be.”
He stared at it, mind racing. Buck rubbing his neck at the firehouse. Buck being off before anyone else noticed. Buck insisting he was fine when he clearly wasn’t.
“When would he have gotten it?” Hen asked.
Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Chimney exhaled. “It doesn’t look fresh. Not from tonight.”
“No,” Eddie agreed. “And he didn’t have it during the struggle.”
They fell quiet, the weight of that settling in.
Hen straightened. “Okay. So we don’t guess. We tell the doctors exactly what we see and exactly what we don’t know.”
Chimney nodded. “And we let them run labs.”
Eddie swallowed. “He was alone during the building sweep yesterday.”
Hen glanced at him sharply. “You think it could be related?”
“I think it’s the only time none of us were with him,” Eddie said carefully. “That doesn’t mean anything yet. But it’s a place to start.”
The ambulance slowed as they pulled into the hospital bay.
Hen squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “We don’t jump ahead. We get answers.”
Eddie watched as the doors opened and Buck was rushed inside.
He didn’t know what had happened to Buck.
But he knew this much for certain.
Buck hadn’t just snapped.
Something had gone wrong.