#from where the intubation tube has been and basically the only thing keeping her body pumping is a ton of Machines

[madigoround]

Death and medically triggering stuff in tags I don’t have the brain power for specifications

[fruitydiaz-archived]

you can have my back any day

4.14 speculation fic / eddie wakes up in the hospital

6,383 words

part two of healing together

AO3 link

The first thing Eddie feels when he wakes up is panic.

Everything’s a little foggy, a little blurry, and he can’t remember much of anything — and that’s never a good sign.

He struggles to open his eyes, his eyelids feel heavy. And then it all starts to rush at him quickly.

Charlie, Sheila, the eyedrops. She was poisoning him, her own kid, all for money — how sick is that?

But they got there in time and they had just closed the doors to the ambulance and Eddie was just talking to Buck in the middle of the street when — when —

His eyes fly open at the memory, at the sound piercing through the fog in his brain. A gunshot. A gunshot and a bullet cutting through the mass of his shoulder — and Buck.

He vaguely registers the sound of something beeping beside him, a loud, annoying sound — and there’s something in his throat. Panic claws its way up his chest and he feels it taking over his entire body. He doesn’t realize that he’s in a room surrounded by people until the nurses are at his side, gently holding his arms and easing him to relax back down against the bed.

He stares up at them with wild, panicked eyes, before he starts to relax. It’s not really a voluntary reaction, but he feels himself start to disappear into the fog again, his limbs going loose in heavy.

He’s been intubated. He’s awake in the hospital. He’s panicked. They need to sedate him again, just a little, just enough to remove the tube, enough to patch him up.

But he doesn’t want that — he wants to see Buck. The last thing he remembers is Buck, covered in blood, Buck on the ground, Buck staring at him helplessly as he bled out onto the street. He has to know he’s okay.

He tries to open his mouth to speak but, like everything else, it feels heavy. He doesn’t like feeling out of control of his body like this — hates it really. He just wants to see Buck, he just has to know he’s okay, that the shooter didn’t get him too. He has to see him.

Eddie’s unfixed gaze drops from the nurses’ faces, shifting to the foot of his bed while his eyelids start to fall shut. The last thing he sees is a blurry face — a birthmark and dark curls.

Buck.

The next time he wakes up — he’s not as panicked. His mouth and throat feel dry and scratchy, but he can swallow easier. Somewhere in the back of his mind he notes that the tube must’ve been taken out after he woke up the first time. That’s a good sign. His limbs still feel heavy, though, and his thoughts are thick and syrupy like molasses. He keeps sliding from one thought to another, never forming anything complete. It feels a little like he’s floating through time. He hates it.

Eventually, Eddie forces his eyes to open and he stares up at the bright white ceiling, before the sound of someone shifting to the right draws his attention. He blinks.

It’s Carla.

She smiles down at him, and it’s warm and comforting in a way that Eddie didn’t know he needed. Of course she would be here.

“Hey there, handsome,” She smiles, reaching out to brush his forehead lightly. He smiles and leans into the touch for a moment. It reminds him of something his sisters used to do, absentmindedly when they’d pile onto the couch to watch a movie together, when he was younger, way younger, way more innocent, when the only scars he had were from climbing trees and playing sports — not from bullets or fists.

He opens his mouth to speak but she shushes him, grabbing a paper cup with ice chips from the side table.

“I imagine you’re pretty parched after what you’ve been through,” She says, pulling a chip out of the cup and lifting it to Eddie’s mouth. He stares at her for a second and she stares back before he eventually opens his mouth and lets her slip the chip in. It's an instant relief, even though the cold is shocking. She slips him a couple of more before he nods to her and she puts the cup down and settles into the chair by his bed.

“I’m sorry you’re in a hospital again,” Eddie says eventually. His voice is rough, and it takes a lot of energy to speak, but he’s desperate to fill the silence, to hear the sounds of life around him.

“Especially so soon. I can’t imagine it’s easy being here after your dad. When Shannon died — for a couple of weeks I couldn’t even drive by a hospital without wanting to cry.”

He’s never said that before — and he’s surprised at how easily the admission slips out. But he doesn’t have a chance to feel embarrassed about it. Carla reaches out, covering his hand with her own.

“I know you’re not apologizing for getting shot by a sniper, Eddie.” He shrugs his good shoulder. “I would be here for you anytime, any day, you know that.”

He looks at her and he knows it’s true. It’s weird, if he thinks about it too long, the way that Carla has become such an important part of their lives. He was used to fighting for things, to having to do things on his own, to having to explain himself to everyone, to defend himself.

But Carla, Buck’s ex-girlfriend’s dead mom’s caretaker, wasn’t anything like that. She just stepped in and graciously offered her care. He knows that’s her job, but he also knows that she loves him and Christopher like they’re family. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t. And that’s something Eddie never had in his life before.

“It’s no wonder you and Buck are such good friends,” She says, changing the subject. “You two are a lot alike.”

At the mention of Buck, Eddie can’t stop the emotions from shifting over his face. They move so quickly he’s not even sure what they all are — but they’re suspicious and he knows it. He’d been expecting to see Buck when he woke up, he had been wanting to see Buck when he woke up. All he’s been able to think about, in his conscious moments and unconscious, is Buck. He just has to see that he’s okay, and then he’ll relax.

“I thought he would be here,” Eddie chances saying, eventually. Carla nods, a small smile on her lips.

“That boy has been here more often than not. You’ve been in the hospital for a couple of days, honey. We’re taking turns. He took Christopher for some real food and a change of clothes a couple of hours ago. But I texted him as soon as I saw you were waking up and they’re on their way now.”

And that — right there — that makes everything okay. All of the fear, trepidation, tension in Eddie’s body basically vanishes. Buck’s okay. More than okay — he’s with Christopher. And more than just being with Christopher, he’s looking after him. Making sure he’s well fed, clean, and comfortable. It’s more than Eddie could ever ask for, and the fact that Buck just does it, no questions no complaints — he does it happily — that has Eddie choked up.

Then he realizes.

“Did he — who told you? About what happened?” Carla frowns.

“He came by the house an hour or so after getting you to the hospital. He said Bobby made him go home and clean up but he had to come tell us the news. I offered to tell Chris — but he wanted to do it. It was...not easy. For either of them.”

Eddie can imagine. He remembers having to get down on one knee in front of Christopher and tell him that he would never see his mom again. A couple of hours after getting Eddie to the hospital means there was no way they knew whether or not he was gonna make it at that point.

Buck had to prepare Chris for his dad’s death.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever repay Buck for this — for everything, for saving his life, for taking such good care of Christopher, for looking after him like he was his own son. For having to hold it together for all of them.

But he knows what Buck would say if he mentioned any of this to him.

It wasn’t some favor I was doing you, Eddie. I have your back, always. You never have to repay me.

Eddie leans back. Buck’ll be here soon, with Christopher. That’s all he needs. Everything’s okay.

He realizes it all, several minutes too late. He glances at Carla, who’s looking back at him expectantly.

“Ana,” He says. Carla nods. Eddie’s mouth works as he tries to figure out exactly what to say next. Nothing comes to him.

“She’s downstairs grabbing us some coffee,” Carla says, folding her hands over her lap. She fixes Eddie with a look and he sighs, turning away from her.

“Can the fact that I just had a bullet in my shoulder get me out of whatever conversation I know you want to have with me right now?” She smiles and it’s not unkind. It reminds him of the way his sisters used to smile at him — right before they would expose some deeply buried truth about him that sent him into a week-long existential crisis.

“Honey, we don’t have to have any conversation that you don’t want to have. Not right now. But you should be having a conversation with Miss Flores soon, because you and I both know where your heart is, and it’s not with her.”

Eddie frowns. Ana’s nice. He likes having her around. She makes Christopher laugh — fills the house with his laughter which, really, to Eddie, seems like everything in the world.

In some ways — she reminds him of Shannon. It’s the way she carries herself, the sundresses she wears, the quiet shyness, the way she smiles at Christopher, runs her fingers through his curls.

But they don’t fight like he and Shannon did. They don’t fight at all, really. Eddie thought their polite tip-toeing-around-each-other stage would’ve ended months ago — but it hasn’t. And it’s not that he wants to fight, he hated fighting with Shannon. But he’s started to realize that fighting was the most exciting part of their relationship — the throwing down and the making up, the passion that followed.

It was undeniably toxic and unhealthy for the both of them, and as much as Eddie hated Shannon for leaving him again — she was right. They didn’t really work together.

And Ana...he’s beginning to see that they’re not working together either. Maybe it took him longer to figure out because they weren’t fighting, because all he’s ever known in his relationships is fighting — fighting with his parents, fighting with his sisters, fighting with Shannon. He thought this...this pleasantness was good. The easiness was good.

But ever since Carla planted that tiny little seed of doubt in his head at the dinner table, he’s felt the whole thing unravel.

He doesn’t want Ana here. He just wants to be with Christopher and Buck and Carla. He didn’t want to wake up to see Ana sitting next to him — was pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t her, but he wanted to see Buck. He didn’t care that Ana knew he was safe — he wanted to make sure Buck was safe.

But, most importantly, Ana wasn’t with Chris. Ana wasn’t the one who told him that Eddie was in the hospital, wasn’t the one who bravely broke the news to his son, wasn’t the one who held him and comforted him, wasn’t the one taking him to and from the hospital, wasn’t the one making sure that he still ate and took care of himself, even though he’s sick with grief.

Ana’s not with Christopher. Buck is. And that’s the most damning piece of evidence of all.

He doesn’t want anyone else in his life. He has Buck.

When Ana appears in the doorway a couple of minutes later, Eddie doesn’t even have enough energy to feel sick about it. She smiles at him, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and he smiles weakly back.

Carla picks her purse up.

“I’m going to give you two a moment alone. Buck and Christopher will be here soon, so I’ll see you again when it’s my turn.” She steps over to Eddie’s side and leans down to kiss his forehead. “I’m glad you’re with us still, Eddie.”

He doesn’t want her to go but he knows she has to. He doesn’t really want her to be here for what’s about to happen either. And if she’s down in the lobby she’ll be able to fend off Chris and Buck until Ana’s gone. The last thing he needs is them walking in on...whatever’s about to happen.

Ana slides into Carla’s spot, smoothing her hand over the top of her hair. She looks worn and tired — Eddie imagines they all do. He hates when people worry about him. It reminds him of when he was younger, when he would do something foolish with his friends and end up with a couple too many scrapes or a broken bone — and he would sit in bed while his parents fretted over him, bringing him soup and pain meds and whatever else he might need. It wasn’t the care that bothered him — it was the way it always came with an edge of disappointment, like he should’ve known better to get hurt, like it was an inconvenience for them.

He swallows.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Ana says, her tone falling just short of the bright and cheery Eddie knows she was aiming for. He forces a smile. “You had me really scared for a minute there.”

Eddie bites back the urge to say sorry. He didn’t ask to get shot.

“Yeah, thought I was done being shot at once I left the army,” He comments drily. Ana nods and her mouth twitches like she wants to smile, like she wants to laugh at the joke Eddie’s trying to crack, but it’s probably too on the dark side for her, because her face crumbles just a bit.

“Sorry,” He tacks on sheepishly. She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.

The silence stretches over them and Eddie hates the fact that it’s making him itch, that it’s making him angry. He’s just been shot, just woke up to a tube in his mouth, and woke up again — waiting to see the two people he wants to see most in the world, so he thinks he should be allowed to get a little angry.

But Ana hasn’t done anything, not really. And she deserves better than Eddie lashing out at her right now.

“Ana,” Eddie starts, but his throat feels dry again. He glances at the cup of ice chips that Carla left and Ana’s up immediately, lifting a piece of ice to Eddie’s mouth just like Carla had moments before.

Her hands are shaking.

Eddie sighs and lets her slip a couple of chips in his mouth before he feels like he can talk again. She stands by his side.

“I really...I don’t want to have to do this right now,” He says, lifting a hand up to rub at his face. He wants to lift his right arm but quickly remembers its in a fucking sling, draped across his chest, and he’s quickly losing his patience.

“I know,” Ana says quickly. He looks up at her and sees her blinking back tears. “It’s us.”

“I’m sorry. This is...shit timing.”

“Nothing like a bullet in your shoulder to make you realize what you really want,” She jokes. He surprises both of them when he snorts a laugh.

He looks up at her and she’s smiling down at him, but she looks sad, not angry. He really does like her.

“Thank you for being here,” He says honestly. She reaches down and brushes her fingers against his forehead.

“Of course, Eddie. Things between us...I think we’ve both known where this was heading for a while. But...I’d always be here for you.”

“You’re really great, you know,” Eddie says. Ana tilts her head to the side and Eddie’s surprised when a tear slips down her face and onto his forehead. She moves to wipe it away with her thumb quickly, scrunching her face up, a move Eddie now knows she does when she’s embarrassed.

It’s weird, knowing that he’ll always have these tiny quirks cataloged as Things Ana Does When in his mind. He has a list of things that Shannon does too — he sees them in Christopher all the time. It took a while for him to get used to the dull ache he feels in his chest every time he sees it.

He has a list of things Buck does too, that Chris has also picked up on. He’s never quite understood how that made him feel, but he’s beginning to.

“I know,” Ana says, faking a smile. “I’m just not what you want.”

Eddie twists his mouth into a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t really know what I want,” Eddie says — and at that moment Ana’s phone pings with a notification. She quickly steps away from Eddie, turning her back to him while she digs in her bag for her phone. He hears her sniffle a couple of times but pretends he doesn’t — he knows she’s trying to hide it.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I do,” Ana says distractedly, straightening once she has her phone in her hand. She wipes away her face dry as she turns back to him. “Christopher and Buck are here — so...I guess this is the last time I’ll see you.”

Eddie’s stomach turns uncomfortably at that. He’s never liked goodbyes — even when they’re necessary. He knows it’d be unfair to ask Ana to stick around, and he doesn’t even want her to, but he feels like he needs to make it up to her somehow.

She steps up to him, brushing her fingers against his forehead again. She lets them trail down the side of his face, running along his jaw like she’s trying to map his facial features, committing them to memory. Her face starts to crumble again and before Eddie can say anything to try and soothe the pain, she presses her lips to his forehead, whispers a shaky goodbye, and disappears out the door.

He feels like shit about it for about a minute before he remembers that her absence means that Chris and Buck will be there soon.

His boys.

He feels a complicated series of emotions at that realization. First, it’s pure elation that he gets to see Christopher. He never likes to be away from him for long, it makes him feel like he’s missing a part of himself, and he knows Chris has had a hard couple of days while he’s been in the hospital. And then the reality of what he’s been through comes crashing down on top of him.

He was shot . He was shot and he almost died — he knows that. He knows he lost a good amount of blood, knows that the surgery was touch and go. He knows it was devastating for Christopher — 12 years old and grappling with the fact that he might lose his only remaining parent.

Guilt settles heavy in the pit of his stomach and he’s breaking down crying before he knows it. He almost left Christopher alone. He almost lost his boy.

And then he feels anger, anger at the fact that this is the hand he’s been dealt — this life of fighting, of feeling like he never does a goddamn thing right. He couldn’t when he was a kid, couldn’t when he started dating Shannon and got her pregnant, couldn’t when he committed to marrying her because he thought it was the right thing to do, couldn’t when he enlisted, couldn’t when he re-enlisted, couldn’t when he picked up job after job to support his son, couldn’t when he relocated them to California, couldn’t when Shannon came back, couldn’t when Shannon died. He couldn’t even live right.

He wasn’t supposed to be getting shot at anymore — he left Afghanistan long ago. How was he supposed to leave Christopher again, put on that uniform, and know that any day something could happen and he could be ripped out of his kid’s world?

He’s always known the job was dangerous, always accepted that any scene could go the wrong way and anything could happen. But he’s never come this close before.

But then he remembers that he didn’t die, he didn’t die and he didn’t lose his son, and his son is on his way to see him right now. So he pulls himself out of the fear, guilt, anger spiral quickly. He’ll deal with that again some other day, he knows it. He knows that he has months, maybe years of new nightmares ahead of him, knows that eventually, he’ll have to sit down in Frank’s office again and slowly, painstakingly, piece his life back together.

But for now — he’s about to see his son.

And he’s about to see Buck.

The wave of guilt threatens to wash over him again — because Eddie can never really escape it.

Buck who saw him get shot, Buck who got covered in his blood, Buck who watched him bleed out, Buck who risked his life to physically carry the weight of Eddie’s body to safety, Buck who got him to the hospital in time, Buck who sat in the waiting room, traumatized and shocked, Buck who went home to tell his kid, Buck who cared for his kid like he was his own.

Buck. Buck who...is his best friend...but is maybe more than that.

He loves Buck, he’s always known that. Ever since the tsunami, ever since Buck ran himself ragged walking all over the city looking for Chris — he’s known. But loving his friend and being in love with him — that’s a different thing.

Or at least, he thinks it is? He’s not sure. He just knows that in his last moments, when he was standing in shock and Buck was in front of him — something changed. Or, rather, something shifted, in his mind.

He doesn’t know exactly how he feels about Buck or exactly what he wants their relationship to look like and if he thinks about it too hard he knows he’s going to get a headache. But he knows that he loves Buck, and that for a moment he was terrified that he would never see him again, and that he never wants to leave him, and that he wants him woven into his life forever.

Thankfully, Eddie’s managed to pull himself together by the time Buck comes skidding into the doorway, Christopher over his shoulder. It’s such an entrance that Eddie’s stunned for a second, and his eyes lock with Buck’s before he breaks down laughing.

It feels good to feel such pure joy.

“We were gonna walk but Christopher was so excited to see you that he insisted I carry him and run here — and I wasn’t really gonna deny him the opportunity to see his dad as quickly as possible,” Buck explains, a little out of breath as he lowers Christopher down to the ground.

“Used his puppy dog eyes on you, didn’t he?” Eddie teases. “You’re too easy, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, I already accepted that I’m not immune to the Diaz puppy dog eyes a long time ago. I’d do anything for you two.” Buck says this naturally, as he slides Christopher’s glasses off of his shirt collar and hands them for Chris to put on. He shifts Christopher’s crutches from one hand to the other, eyes still focused on the kid.

“Do you want to use your crutches, buddy, or are you good to walk around?” Eddie’s a little stunned at how natural Buck is with Chris — and he’s not really sure why, because he always has been.

“I don’t need them,” Chris says, nodding. Buck nods back and settles his crutches down on the chair.

Eddie can’t hold back the tears. Christopher looks at him with such unfiltered joy — and the guilt lingers in the back of Eddie’s mind, the knowledge that he scared the crap out of his own kid. He holds out his good hand.

“Here, let’s go around the other side so we can be on your dad’s good side,” Buck suggests gently, ushering Chris over to the other side of the bed. Eddie can’t help but notice that Buck’s not looking at him, but he can’t focus on it for too long when Christopher’s collapsing against the side of the bed, falling into Eddie’s arm. Eddie pulls him close, presses his head against his chest, and buries his face in Christopher’s curls, pressing a solid kiss to the top of his head.

He closes his eyes and loses himself in the familiarity, in the comforting scent of Christopher’s shampoo, in the feeling of his son in his arms, where Eddie would keep him forever if he could.

“Oh mijo,” Eddie mumbles into Christopher’s hair, not wanting to pull away from him for a second. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Chris asks, pulling away. He reaches out to brush his hand against Eddie’s jaw and Buck’s hit with the startling memory of when Chris did that to him, on the pier, just before the tsunami. He wonders if that’s something he picked up from Shannon or Eddie.

Eddie smiles at Chris sadly.

“Because I scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Christopher says, and Buck clears his throat behind him.

“Come on, buddy. We talked about being honest about all of our emotions, remember?”

Eddie quirks an eyebrow and looks up at Buck, but he’s still avoiding his eyes.

“Sorry. I was scared at first. I didn’t want to lose you too. But Buck said that he would never lie to me and he was pretty sure that you were gonna be okay because...you’re the strongest person he knows and that the doctors here are the best!”

Eddie doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just pulls Christopher back in and presses another kiss to the top of his head. He looks at Buck again, and this time he waits, keeping his gaze steady until Buck’s eyes finally meet his.

And it knocks all of the air out of his lungs.

Because the last time he looked into those eyes — everything was hazy around the edges. He could feel himself slipping away and the only thing that kept him anchored, the only thing that kept him tethered to the earth, was the piercing blue of Buck’s eyes. The last thing he remembers is the fear in them, and the anger. He knew as soon as he recognized it that he was going to be okay — because he’s seen that determined look in Buck’s eyes a million times before.

He knows Buck’s remembering it too, he’s pretty sure that’s why Buck’s been avoiding his eyes the whole time, because he goes pale the moment they meet. He watches him swallow, watches the flashbacks echo in his mind.

Buck looks away quickly and clears his throat. He’s trying really hard not to throw up his breakfast right now, remembering Eddie lying lifeless on the street, bloody and pale. It’s not a sight he’s soon to forget, no matter how hard he tries.

He slides into the seat behind Christopher, too far for Eddie’s liking, so he stretches out his hand to him.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie mumbles. Buck hesitates before scooting the chair closer. He stares at Eddie’s hand for a moment before he slips his hand into it. He rests their linked hands down on Christopher’s back.

They talk for a bit, Christopher catching Eddie up on the few things that have happened in the last couple of days. He’s been out of school, which makes sense. His parents are in town — he wonders when he’ll have to see them. He’s not excited about it; he knows that what’ll follow will be remarks about how it’s not safe, how Eddie could’ve died, how Chris could’ve lost him, how he’d be safer at home.

By the time Carla shows back up in the doorway, Christopher’s eyelids are drooping closed and he keeps dropping his head against his dad’s shoulder. It’s time for him to go home and rest but he protests — because of course, he wants to stay with Eddie.

“Go on, Christopher. I’ll be back home tonight and then we can stay up late and watch a movie and enjoy our fun time before your dad comes back and ruins it with his boring rules and grumpy face.”

Eddie’s heart warms at Buck calling his house home — and he wants to roll his eyes at the teasing, but he also recognizes the way Buck deflects with humor, and it makes his chest ache. It works for Chris, though, and he’s out the door with Carla after a solid hug and a kiss on his cheek goodbye, leaving Buck and Eddie alone.

Neither of them says anything for a minute. There’s a weight that settles over them without Christopher there. Something that rests heavily on their shoulders — the memory of the moment that neither of them want to talk about — when they were feet apart and watching the other lose their life.

The silence becomes unbearable for Eddie quicker than usual — he’s just not used to Buck being quiet. Buck is always full of this nervous energy, it keeps him moving at all times. He’s usually the one filling awkward silences with random facts, anything he’s read over the last couple of days, something that happened with Maddie, a random joke — anything. But right now he’s sitting in total silence, hands gripping his thighs, eyes fixed on the end of Eddie’s bed.

Eddie’s pretty sure he knows what he’s thinking about.

He reaches out his good hand again and it falls short of Buck’s knee. His fingers stretch out, flexing for a moment before curling back in, and he’s temporarily transfixed by that movement. It’s a little thing, but it reminds him so much of how immobilized he was once he got shot, once he went down, how he couldn’t even stretch out his hand to Buck like he wanted to.

He glances up at Buck, wiggles his fingers again to get his attention. He clears his throat and Buck blinks, once, twice, and then looks back at Eddie, eyes wide. He looks down at Eddie’s hand and then back at his face with the blankest, furthest off stare Eddie’s pretty sure he’s ever seen on Buck, before he shakes his head, flushes, and slips his hand into his.

“I wanted to do this so bad when I got shot,” Eddie admits, lacing their fingers together. He’s surprised at the lack of filter he’s had today. Maybe it has something to do with the drugs, or the recent brush with death, but he can’t find it in him to mull over every single thought that comes to him right now, no energy to vet the words before he says them to make sure they don’t leave him in a vulnerable spot. It’s too late for that.

Buck looks surprised but squeezes Eddie’s hand in response.

“I’m here,” Is all he says. Eddie nods.

“Thank you,” Eddie says and he watches as Buck freezes, as the words click into place in his brain, and his face twists.

“Eddie — I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. You shouldn’t.” Eddie shakes his head, cutting Buck off.

“Look, Buck, I know you. I know you’re probably all up in your head blaming yourself for me getting shot, for not doing enough. But you saved me.”

Buck looks like he wants to argue again so Eddie pushes on.

“Listen, I never thought I’d get shot at again,” He laughs bitterly. “Thought all that would end when I left Afghanistan. But...when our helicopter went down over there...we were under heavy fire. We were already transporting injured soldiers, then I got shot — it...I thought I was gonna die out there.”

Eddie pauses. He’s never really talked about any of this before with Buck. He’s mentioned having nightmares every once in a while, offhandedly mentioned getting shot at a couple of times — but he’s always tried to keep it casual. He’s always tried to cut out the dark reality — for himself and for Buck.

But what happened to him, getting shot in the middle of the street, for Buck to see, it’s dragging all of that up. And he can’t cut it out right now, because the dark reality is this .

When he goes to therapy again he’ll start to unpack his time in the army again. He’ll start to piece together his conscious moments from when he got shot to when he was in the ambulance. He’ll start to remember the fear, the anger, the deep sadness he felt that this was happening to him again.

He’ll remember hearing the sound of helicopter blades in the fire truck. He’ll remember the constant sound of gunfire, the way he screamed as Buck lifted his body. He’ll remember calling out to him, calling out for Christopher.

But he’s not unpacking that all right now. He just wants to make sure Buck knows that he knows that this time was different.

“I thought...I was never gonna come home again, never gonna see Shannon again, never gonna see Christopher. I felt helpless...and — alone.”

He turns back to Buck again, locks their eyes, and squeezes his hand.

“This time I had you. And I knew that you would do whatever it takes.” He can’t keep his voice from shaking anymore, and stops trying to keep it even, stops trying to hold back the tears. He needs Buck to know how much this means to him — how much he means to him.

Buck’s eyes are red and watery and Eddie knows he’s trying his best to not break down. In the back of his mind, he knows Buck’s had his fair share of breakdowns over the last couple of days. The guilt echoes in the back of his mind.

“I said I’d have your back,” Buck says, voice small as he squeezes Eddie’s hand. “I — I’ll always be here for you. But I’d really like it if you never got shot again.”

He laughs as he says it, but he also cries a little too, tears falling freely down his face. He forces a watery smile and grabs Eddie’s hand with his other, sandwiching his good hand between his. And then he’s fully crying, leaning forward and pulling their hands up to his forehead as the sobs rack his body.

All Eddie wants to do is pull him in, wrap his arm around him and hold him close, remember that there’s not this distance between them anymore, remember that they’re both alive and there’s no blood on either of them and they’re safe, they’re safe.

But that illusion of safety has been shattered, and for that Eddie cries too.

Eventually, they’ll pick themselves up, dry their tears (or rather, Buck will reach out to dry Eddie’s with his free hand, because his other refuses to let Eddie’s go) and they’ll talk about their experience.

Buck will tell Eddie how he felt paralyzed, stuck standing there when he watched Eddie get shot, how he could still taste and smell his blood for hours after.

And Eddie will tell Buck how he didn’t register that he’d been shot at first, that he looked up and saw the blood on Buck and how at first it scared him, until he realized it was his own, and that comforted him.

They’ll talk about that moment their eyes met under the truck, how they were both so desperate to hold onto one another’s gaze because it meant they were alive.

Buck will talk about how he had to drag Eddie’s body, how it felt listening to Eddie in pain, how Buck and the medics had to do their best on the floor of the fire truck to stop the bleeding and keep him alive until they got to the hospital.

Buck will tell him how he couldn’t get all of the blood off him until Bobby sent him home and he scrubbed every last bit of it off in the shower — before putting on fresh clothes and going to tell Carla, Ana, and Christopher. He’ll tell him how Chris broke down, how he was so scared, and how Buck held him while they both cried. And Eddie will cry at that too.

Eddie will tell him how he woke up wanting to see him, because he couldn’t remember anything after his eyes closed on the pavement, how he wanted to make sure Buck was okay.

He’ll tell him that he had to end things with Ana, because it wasn’t fair to her and he couldn’t drag her through all of this if they didn’t love each other. He’ll tell him how the last time he got shot, it was too much for Shannon, and she left them, weighed down by her own struggles and grief.

Buck will squeeze his hand gently.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Eddie,” Buck will say, sincerely.

“I was alone when I came back from Afghanistan,” Eddie will respond. Buck’s face will twist and he’ll lock eyes with Eddie.

“You have me now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

And it’ll be hard and it won’t be pretty. They’ll spend weeks staring at each other, reminding themselves that they’re okay. They’ll spend months having to adjust to loud noises that make them both jump. Eddie will struggle to regain full motion in his hand and his shoulder.

They’ll have nightmares and therapy sessions and breakdowns that make everything seem impossible.

But they’ll have each other — and they’ll be okay.

[flatstarcarcosa]

our love grows flowers in the winter

Summary: Three months ago, Slade died. Four days ago, be barged back into the house like a whirlwind, and for a moment all was right with the world. Reese has discovered strangers can wear familiar faces, and to top it off: There is another Slade greeting them over morning coffee and acting as if nothing is wrong.

How can there be two Slades, and what do either of them want?

(part one) (part two) (part three) (fin)

Ship: wilson&wilson Warnings: violence, swearing, slight depictions of gore? there’s a big fight is all im sayin. slade kicks his own ass, finally, his life long dream.  sidenote: i decided to structure this piece similar to the comic. there’s titles between switches scenes, and the timeline isn’t entirely linear. i think it’s still simple enough to follow, but it was a neat exercise.

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'Penitence' Bellevue Hospital, NYC Several Days Later

Slade’s arms are out at his sides in a show of defenselessness, shoulders slumped and head down. The gun sits on the side of the bed between them as Adeline regards him with hard eyes.

“If you still want to kill me, now’s the time,” he says. He’s said it before, of course. Over and over amidst their many fights. She knows he’s meant it every time, but this time it’s different. It’s not the adamant way he normally says it, it doesn’t carry the meaning of ‘I still love you, I’m sorry’, it doesn’t have the same undertones that show he’s only saying it to keep her attention for a bit longer. This time, he is all but begging her to go through with it.   This is not the man she married.  This is not even the man she divorced.

 The man in front of her is a broken shell, a cracking husk at risk of getting blown away by the next winter breeze. The man in front of her is hardly a man at all. She takes the gun, holding onto the feeling of the weight in her hand, and considers it for a long moment.

“No,” she finally says, dropping the weapon. “There’s no point. You’re no more Slade Wilson than the man that murdered my husband. You’re not the Slade Wilson I’ve loved, and hated for so long. You’re nothing now.”  He doesn’t respond. He lowers his arms and still doesn’t look at her, and it fills her with equal parts anger and pity. Anger, that he dares to ask one final favor from her, to give him one more thing after all she’s given.

Pity that he’s been reduced to this. He used to be strong, he used to be kind, he used to be a good man. Flawed, yes, but good nonetheless. What stands before her is none of those things but it is taking the form of something vaguely familiar, yet alien all the same.  “You want me to get closure?” she asks. “There is no closure, not with you, Slade. Not with any of us, and not for any of us. If I have to live with it, if Joey does, then so do you. So that’s what you can do for me. You can fucking live with it and let it eat you alive. It’s time for you feel the consequences of your own actions for once. Get out.”  Slade turns, padding across the room and pausing with his hand on the door.  “I really did love you,” he says softly.  “I know,” she whispers. “That’s the problem, you poison everything you love. Then it withers, and it dies.”  The door is silent when it swings shut behind him.  If Rose thought she was angry when this whole mess began, it is nothing compared to the feeling she is currently experiencing. Her footsteps echo throughout the stairwell as she takes them two at a time. The door to the parking garage bounces against the wall as she barrels through it. She finds Slade loading a duffel bag into the trunk of a sedan. When he turns, looking at her in surprise, she hauls off and punches him in the throat.  “You're not even trying,” she yells. Slade hacks out a cough and massages his neck. “You let me do that.”  “Why are you here?” he asks, hoarsely.  “To ask you what the fuck you think you're doing,” she snaps.  “What does it look like?”  “It looks like you're being a limp dicked coward and running away, again,” she snarls. Slade makes eye contact with her, and the blank look in his eye is almost enough to put out the fire in her chest.  “Why would I stay after this?” he asks. His voice is low, soft, and heavy with grief. “There's nothing here now, I made sure of that, didn't I?”  “So you're just going to wallow in your own fucking bullshit?” she asks, clenching her fists by her side. “I thought the whole point of you going back to Vermont was to stop running! To...to plant roots, or whatever bullshit you kept telling us!”  Slade slams the trunk shut and slams his fists again the metal.  “Those roots just got ripped up and burnt to the ground,” he yells. “I may not have started the fire but I still caused it! Hosun is dead, Barry is dead, Adeline is going to have a crippled arm the rest of her life, and Reese--!”  He stops mid sentence and makes no show to stem the tears.   “I'm not doing this for me,” he says softly.  “...dad,” says Rose. Her anger has finally died, and although she is still trying to process everything that has happened, she sets aside the urge to blame him. She gives into the other, stronger and perhaps more basic urge of being a teenage girl that wants her father, and clings to his chest. Slade won't hug you, repeats Bill in her head, but you can hug him.  For a moment, he does nothing but stand there as she cries into his shirt.  Finally, he returns the gesture, squeezing her like she is a buoy in a storm.  “I'm so sorry,” he whispers into her hair. Before she can respond, the moment is interrupted by the sound of a voice over the intercom.  “Wilson family, please report to the ICU,” says the disembodied voice. “Repeat, Wilson family to the ICU.”

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'Your Return' At the Same Time Reese wakes up to the feeling of being choked. There is something blocking their airway, and they gag as they attempt to push whatever is in front of them away. Someone grabs their hands and pushes them back down as they make shushing noises in their ear. …Slade?  They want to open their eyes, but their body seems content to fight against the signals they send.  “Easy now, love,” says a soft, accented voice. “You weren't supposed to wake up until they got this tube out, it's almost over.”  “B...Bill?” they finally rattle once their mouth and throat are blessedly empty.  “The one and only, my dear,” he says. He brushes fingers through their hair. “Glad to see you back with the living.”  “Slade?” they ask. The word sears their raw throat, and it does not take much for Reese to figure out they have clearly been intubated. Their eyes begin to obey them once more, and they are pleased to find that Bill has already dimmed the lights above the bed. A team of nurses crowd the room, all of them talking among themselves as they poke and prod at Reese and the machines they're hooked up to.  “He's...” Bill trails off and closes his eyes. They do not need more of an answer. They know him too well.  Slade's probably already on a plane bound for Africa, where he'll hole up in his old ranch and proceed to annoy wildlife until an animal finally kills him and leaves him to bake in the desert sun.  Reese's eyes fill with tears that back up into their sinuses and begin dripping down their irritated throat. A nurse fetches a cup of water and a straw as they begin coughing.  “Can you breathe all right?” asks the nurse. Reese takes a small sip of water and manages to swallow half of it before their stomach protests violently against the intake of fluid.  Slade and Rose bust into the room just in time to watch them vomit into a basin. Long, silent seconds stretch out into minutes.  The nurses continue to do their jobs and one of them bothers to take Slade aside and fill him in on their condition. Reese notice the way Bill shifts, moving to sit more on the bed next to them and act as a barrier between them and Slade. They understand why is he angry and distrusting of his old friend, and they do not blame him for it.  Regardless, they want more than anything for him to move. “But are they going to be okay?” asks Rose. She is standing a step behind Slade, close enough to be part of the conversation and distanced enough to know she is not the intended target of it. The nurse takes a deep breath.  “The doctor will be here in the morning to do another evaluation,” she says. She speaks with a practiced, but no less believable ease that tells Slade this is not the first time she's had this discussion. “There was a lot of damage and a lot of blood loss. I don't know how the shrapnel from the bullet missed anything important, but it did. They're going to have an even more sensitive digestive system than they did before, and we had to take out a few things in their abdomen they shouldn't even miss, and recovery is not going to be quick or easy, but yes. I think physically they'll be all right, eventually. It's going to take time, and a lot of rest.”  “And therapy,” Rose adds. The words are barely out of her mouth when she realizes how inappropriate the comment it.  Slade says nothing in response.  His arms are flat by his sides, and he is clenching and clenching his fingers repeatedly.    “Yes,” says the nurse slowly. “Physical therapy will be important to their recovery. The fact that the shrapnel from being shot didn't hit anything vital is already lucky, but that the blade only nearly snipped their spinal cord is a kind of luck we don't often see.”  Still, Slade says nothing. Whether he doesn't know what to say, or simply can't say anything at all, Rose is unsure. She looks across the room, raising an eyebrow at Wintergreen. He blinks a couple of times before holding his hands up in a shrug. He has never seen Slade look as despondent and defeated as he does in this moment. He's just been told Reese will make a full recovery, and yet you'd think it was the opposite from his demeanor. It's only Reese grunting behind him that causes Bill to turn in time to see them trying to sit from their prone position.  “Hey,” he says, standing off the bed and placing a hand on their shoulder. “Easy. You're being held together with very expensive, medical grade duct tape right now.”  “Back hurts,” they say softly.  “I imagine it does,” says the nurse. She motions for the rest of her coworkers to file out of the room as she moves to raise the bed. “But don't try and sit up on your own right now. I'm going to put in an order for some meds for you. The rest of you need to figure out who's staying and who's going: we only allow one person at a time.”  “I'm gonna check on Joey,” Rose says immediately. She gives Slade a soft pat on the arm. “Okay?”  “...yeah,” he says distractedly.  “Perhaps you should both check on Joey,” says Bill. He crosses his arms over his chest and settles a stern gaze directly on Slade. “I'm sure he'd love to see his father.”  Reese's nurse quirks an eyebrow as she realizes she is clearly interrupting something, and wisely extricates herself from the room. Slade remains silent, standing in the shadows in the corner of the room, and Bill remains planted as the only barrier between him and Reese. Behind him, they let out an annoyed sigh and roll their eyes. It takes a bit of reaching, probably more than they should be doing, to get to the water cup on the table. They empty the contents into the basin they'd thrown up into and use their knee to slide the table away from the bed before chucking the empty plastic cup at the back of Bill's head.  “What the devil--!” he turns, blinking in surprise as he looks down at the cup clattering to the floor and back up to Reese.  “Thank you,” they say. It takes work not only to speak, but to keep their tone level. If there was a ever a time where they wanted nothing more than to be non-verbal, it is now. “Please go.”  “Reese, I don't think-” starts Bill. They cut him off by sharply yelling his name. He sighs and leans down to leave a quick kiss on the top of their head. As he passes Slade on the way out, he says, “I'll be down the hall.”  It is a promise, and a threat.  Although Adeline has always been clear with how much she wants Slade dead, Bill has always seen it differently: Slade is free to live his life and make his mistakes, but he does so knowing that should he ever become too far gone, or cross one too many lines, his oldest friend will not hesitate to remove him from the equation. Slade stays silent, and is admittedly having trouble parsing how an eviler version of himself getting zapped over from a different time-line and wreaking havoc is somehow his fault. He is no closer to making it make sense when the door clicks shut behind Bill and leaves him alone with Reese. His gaze is transfixed not on them, but on the area just towards the left of them, and they tilt their head a little as they take in the sight of him.  The last they'd seen him, he was bleeding out a few feet away from them and they know that even his healing factor can't reverse blood loss from nothing. The bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt tell them he's not bounced back entirely. They also know that many people have speculated over the years that Slade has some sort of subconscious control over his healing, that he can alter it's efficacy depending on how deeply he feels about something. Bill thinks it's why his eye never healed after Adeline shot him.  Reese thinks it's why there's still red spotting the bandages now.  “Hey,” they say. With what looks like a great effort, he turns his head to face them. They wonder if he's slept at all since he came home, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder if he's eaten, even as they know he hasn't. They wonder what kind of mental gymnastics he's doing to concoct a narrative that blames himself for what happened, even as they know he doesn't have to work all that hard for it.  In his mind, it is his fault for not being there to stop it. It is his fault for dying in the first place. It is his fault, and it will always be his fault and no amount of penance will ever absolve him of it.  The whole situation has shades of their kidnapping back in Florida. He'd been so upset and angry with himself about the situation, that for a while he refused to see reason and took it as a sign he needed to leave everything the two of them had built. Back then, it honestly wasn't much. It was a small, fragile thing with no roots to keep it in place and no new growth to push it forward and it was only Reese's indignant insistence that he didn't get to walk away from it that kept it from collapsing.  That was six years ago.  What the two of them have built is much more resilient these days, and Reese has already done the work of keeping it rooted while he was dead. It's time for him to do some of the work for once, and if that means he has to feel all of the sharp edges between them, then so be it.  Wordlessly, they hold out their arms.  Slade hesitates. The urge to turn and run is coursing through him as much as anything and getting stronger with every beat of his heart. He forces himself to take the first step towards Reese. By the time he collapses onto the edge of the bed and into their waiting embrace it is as effortless as breathing. They smell like iodine and rubbing alcohol and the most basic of hospital issued soap, but they smell like home.  “Hey, little one,” he says, voice thick with emotion and soft in their ear.  “Please don't leave,” says Reese. He squeezes them as tight as he dares without hurting them and rests his forehead in the crook of their neck.  “I'm not going anywhere,” he says, and for once in his life it is not only a promise, but a full one. The day will come when it won't be, of course. The day will come when he will unlock that familiar green army crate and he will be Deathstroke once more, but for now... For now he is alive and he is home, and he is not running away from any of it, no matter how many broken and jagged pieces are inside.

[hufflepuff-ravenclaw-reviews]

Titans Season 1 Episode 7

We start off the episode with Rachel begging the others to let her speak with Dr. Adamson. They finally relent, and give her five minutes alone with him.

She goes into the bathroom where he's handcuffed to the railing into the deep bathtub. He talks for a while about the usual “You will be reunited with your father!” and “Heal the world” bullshit, before he grabs a thermometer in the tub, breaks it, and slits his throat. Rachel panics and heals him, much to Adamson's delight.

Later, Dick and Kori go in and question him further. They finally get out of him that Rachel's father is keeping Rachel's mother captive. However, I feel like it's a fact that they should have kept to themselves, because the second that they tell Rachel that her biological mom is still alive, she instantly wants to go rescue her. Dick insists that they shouldn't leap into this, and that they need to come up with a plan and research the building before they jump in. Rachel turns to first Kori, then Garfield to back her up, but both of them say that they agree with Dick. Rachel storms off.

However, Garfield runs after her, and tells her that he sided with Dick and Kori so that nobody would think twice about the entire thing. Since his own parents are dead, he would do anything to rescue his mom; he's totally on board with helping to save Angela. (And for a second, I thought that Garfield was being mature and responsible. And then I remembered that it's Beastboy that we're talking about, and scoffed and rolled my eyes at my own stupidity.)

Rachel and Garfield take an Uber out to the facility. Because... yeah. That's what we've come down to, apparently. They get to the facility and are almost immediately captured. Because... dumb teenagers.

Meanwhile, Dick and Kori do some investigating on the building in question, and find an alternate way in other than just the front door. As Dick goes to tell Rachel that they've come up with a plan, he realizes that both she and Garfield are gone.

So Dick and Kori run off to the facility, where they get in via the underground tunnels Dick found in his research. However, they're taunted with an unconscious Garfield handcuffed to a wheel chair, and a guard points a gun at his head. They're surrounded, but as Kori tries to shoot at them, Dick warns her not to because there's gas lines overhead. If she uses her powers in there, they'll all die. So now everybody's captured.

Dick is put into a padded room, and is strapped onto a chair. He's given a weird injection, and then starts to hallucinate that they put him into his Robin costume, and just... let him go. However, he runs into himself right when his parents died, and his younger self literally punches him into his old bedroom at Wayne Manor, the day that Bruce left the letter inviting him to become Robin. Young Dick shoves present-day Dick out the window, but then he lands in the Batcave, where young Dick starts beating the shit out of present-day Dick for becoming... well, who he is now. However, as mentioned, all of this was a hallucination. None of it actually happened, and Dick was still strapped to the chair in the room.

Meanwhile, Kori is put into some weird room with heat-resistant panels. How they knew exactly what her powers were are beyond me. They wait until she runs out of juice, and then use gas to knock her out. They then intubate her, and start performing a live dissection on her. While she's more or less awake. How fun.

And Garfield is locked in a cage while “scientists” prod him with cattle prods, screaming at him to show them what he can do.

While all of that is happening, Rachel wakes up in a nice office, with Dr. Adamson pouring her some tea. They continue to talk... Or rather, Adamson continues to blather on and on about whatever nonsense that Rachel's dad has filled their minds with, while Rachel continues to give him the teenager version of the middle finger.

Adamson eventually says that Rachel should use her powers to call out to her father. Instead, she tells him that she's taking it back, and reverses her healing powers on his neck. It gets slit open again, and he falls over after a moment of struggling. Well, that's one way to do it, I suppose.

Rachel uses his computer to look up where in the facility that they're keeping her mom, and then uses Adamson's keycard to get around. Rachel is discovered to have escaped (and Dr. Adamson's death, but they apparently have no shits to give about that...) However, no actual alarm is sounded, which makes me think that they didn't want to actually find Rachel that badly...

Rachel goes to Angela's cell, where Angela refuses to believe that Rachel is anything but another cruel trick. Rachel decides that she needs needs to show Angela some proof of who she is... And what do you know. She has a weird “birth mark” on her shoulder that looks like a raven. Le sigh.

Angela wants to leave with Rachel right away, but Rachel insists on rescuing the others first. So they go do that.

First up is Garfield, who's alone in the room, and naked. Rachel opens up the cage, and hands him his clothes, which just happened to be sitting nearby. (How convenient.) However, as he's changing, a scientist comes in. Garfield changes into a tiger and basically mauls the man to death. This upsets Garfield immensely, as he himself has said on a few occasions that he's never bitten anybody before. Rachel kind of snaps him out of it, gives him his clothes, and then they leave.

Up next is Dick. He's kind of out of it from whatever shit that they gave him. But with the power of positive thinking, and reminding Dick that he'd promised Rachel never to leave her, she's able to snap him out of it.

Finally, on to rescue Kori. The scientists have discovered that she has some measure of healing abilities, and they're just about to chop off her finger to see if it'll regrow/be allowed to reattached without too much fuss, when the others come in. Since this room is full of people, they have to do a bit of fighting. And for the first time since the one scientist discovered Dr. Adamson's body, is an alarm actually sounded. I don't think that you tried at all. Garfield has to remove the tube from Kori, and it seems kind of like he's got some experience with intubation, which is likely from his time spent being sick with monkey flu in Africa.

They run out, but come across some guards blocking the exit of the tunnel where they are. Dick fights all of them off, and then tells the others to go on ahead, but stops Kori. He asks her for just a spark, and says that they need to blow the entire place up. She asks if he's sure. Dick looks down at a conveniently placed puddle, but instead of seeing his reflection, he sees Robin. He drops this piece of metal that he'd used to beat all of the guards with, which shatters the reflection, and agrees. So he runs off, and Kori ignites the entire building before making a dramatic exit from the flames, not even her fur jacket scorched.

She meets up with Rachel, Garfield, and Angela. But after I'm guessing she took those three to the car, she finds that Dick's dropped his Robin costume into the fire.

And, don't get me wrong. It was a very good episode, and probably the closest that we've gotten thus far to them actually fighting crime. But... damn those people dumb. No alarms were raised after they discovered Rachel escaped, nobody noticed that Angela, Garfield, or Dick had been freed, despite the fact that Adamson had shown Rachel video feed of Garfield, Dick, and Kori being experimented on. The only time that the alarm was actually raised was when they got to the surgery theater with Kori... and even then, as they were escaping, there were only like six or seven guards total, who attacked them from the front, rather than both sides. They got points for using Garfield as a bargaining chip in order to get Kori and Dick, but they lose everything for how stupid that they were for the rest of the episode.