"Buck? Oh my god, Buck!"
The sound of her voice calling for him almost doesn't register at first. Her voice, the click of rapidly approaching heels, it all sounds far away, so very far away as though it's happening to someone else. Happening to someone else because this cannot be happening to him.
"Buck," she says again and this time it's almost a sob.
Taylor's face, looking very pale and more worried than he's ever seen it, swims into view as she appears before him, sinking to her knees despite the cold tile and her pristine pencil skirt.
"Buck," she breathes, her voice rippling like they're both underwater. It seems to take an age for her glossy lips to form his name, and her hands, hovering in mid-air as if she's unsure whether to touch him or not, seem to move as if in slow-motion.
"Buck!"
It's a cry this time and everything rushes back to real time, her voice crescendoing and her hands lurching forward to touch his shirt, still splattered with blood.
"Buck, please tell me this isn't your blood. Buck," she pleads, her hands coming up to hold his face now that she's determined he's free of injuries. Her hands seem to frame his face perfectly, her thumb fitting against his racing pulse as if she needs the extra reassurance that he's okay. "Buck, what happened?"
"Taylor," he says, the first word he's managed in what feels like a long, long time, and his voice sounds like gravel even to his own ears. "How- how are you here?"
"You called me," she explains, and she sounds like she's fighting to get her voice back under control. It's only when she says that, does he realise that his phone, crusted in blood and plastic case creaking from his tight grip, is still in his hand. He doesn't even remember being on the phone with her, making the decision to call her at all. Later, when he's at home, lying in bed alone, he'll marvel at the fact that when it felt like his world was coming down around him, it was her voice he needed to hear most.
"Buck," she whispers, thumb stroking idly, comfortingly, along his jaw. "What happened?"
He slumps forward, his forehead coming to rest against hers, and there's something comforting in the feeling of each of her warm exhales on his face. She's alive, so alive, and he needs that.
"Eddie," he whispers, his eyes sliding shut as he sees the image of his friend dropping to the ground again and again. "Someone shot him… it came out of nowhere… I don't… Taylor, he's my best friend…"
The last word is a sob and it's only now that she's here with him, her hands warm and comforting on him, that he allows the emotion of what's happened to come crashing down on him. He's sat for hours in that hallway as the people who are closer than family have come and gone waiting for news on Eddie, and allowed himself to do nothing more than stare at the depressing beige paint on the wall opposite. But now, only in front of her, he allows the painful sobs to rise from the pit of his stomach and come spilling out.
"Taylor," he says and she surges forward to wrap steady arms around him, drawing him close and tight despite the blood still covering him.
"I'm here," she whispers, twisting them so she can sit in the seat beside and still hold him. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere."
He doesn't know how long the tears spill down his cheeks. Minutes. Hours. Days. Years. Any answer would have made sense to him. All he knows is Taylor is there throughout it all, a warm presence, the sweet fragrance of her perfume cutting through his emotions, her soothing voice murmuring sweet comforts as they wait. Eventually his tears dry up and he sits, exhausted, with his head resting in the hollow of Taylor's shoulder, comforted by her idle fingers playing with the soft curls at the base of his neck.
"Taylor," he says sleepily.
She hums quietly in response, sounding as though she's as close to dozing off as he is.
"Thank you," he murmurs. "For being here."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
They stay like that for a long time, Buck finally feeling somewhere near okay, before the doctor finally appears. Taylor rouses first, straightening and squeezing Buck's hand to get his attention. He jerks upright and staggers to his feet, while she follows a beat slower, and the rest of the 118 appear from the various corners of the hospital they've been waiting in.
"It was touch and go for a while there but he's in a stable condition now," the doctor explains to them all, looking tired. "I have to warn you though, he's not out of the woods yet."
Buck clenches his eyes shut, trembling lips pressed into a hard line, and Taylor touches his arm.
"Hey, he's stable, focus on that."
"Yeah," he breathes, opening his eyes and finding her hand to squeeze. "Yeah, he's stable. I should go see Christopher. His abuela will have picked him up from school by now and I want to be the one to tell him."
"Of course," Taylor says. "I'll drive you back to the loft so you can change first."
Buck plucks at his shirt like he'd forgotten it's still blood-stained and nods. "You don't have to- yeah, that would be- thanks," he decides on finally when Taylor gives him her 'no arguments no discussion' look.
Taylor smiles and tugs on their joined hands gently. "Come on."
Buck says goodbye to the rest of the 118 and they start down the hallway together.
"Taylor?" he starts hesitantly. "Would you come with me?"
"Come with you?"
"When I go talk to Christopher."
Taylor stops, forcing him to stop as well, and she looks up at him. "You- you really want me there for that?"
"Yeah." A flash of insecurity flashes across Buck's face, like he's worried she might say no. "I want you there, but I think I need you there too?"
A rush of emotion courses through Taylor, the first she's allowed since she saw that Buck was okay and needed her. She manages a wobbly smile in return and nods. "Then that's where I'll be."
Ahhh I'm so excited to finally finish this! It's my first time writing BuckTaylor/Taylor so don't shade me too hard if I didn't quite get them/her quite right. I hope you enjoyed it anyway and make sure to leave me a review with what you thought :D