It's a miracle that no one from the 118 was killed.
Bobby keeps thinking about that. All the way to the hospital. Everything and everyone in the ambulance shifts and wobbles with every turn; he doesn't care. He holds tight to Athena's warm fingers with his good hand.
How is it possible that everyone is OK? All of these injuries are tiny! It could have been so much worse.
Broken ribs. Concussion. Bone bruises. These are not life-threatening! Even Chimney, who was unbelievably impaled today, for arguably the third time in six short years (!), managed to avoid placing any of his organs in the path of the offending gurney.
It seems that even Chimney, Nature's Favorite Pincushion, will be able to go home within a day or two.
Bobby shakes his head with rueful laughter, and then coughs because he is in no shape to laugh.
Athena leans in, a worried look on her face. "You ok?"
Bobby nods. His voice is still coming out weak but he doesn't care. He is so happy to be alive! He wants to say ALL THE THINGS! "Just…tried to laugh. Shouldn't." Breath. "But you gotta…Chimney is either the luckiest… or the" - cough - "unluckiest - man alive."
Athena looks torn between shushing him and agreeing; she settles on doing both. She reaches out to play with his hairline, strokes his forehead, and whispers, "Yep."
He can tell that she is trying not to laugh herself. And also not to cry. Everything about this day is eight extremes at once and it is impossible to make it make sense. Even his beloved Sergeant Athena Grant, unflappable as she always, always is, is finding it hard to wrap her mind around everything that they have just lived through.
Around the fact that they have lived through it.
She gives up trying, for at least a few minutes. She leans forward, pressing her lips to Bobby's dusty forehead, and then rests her own forehead gently against his. She closes her eyes.
"I guess he is going to have to fight for that title with Buck," she murmurs. Bobby laughs again, and coughs again. "OK, OK," she says. "No more jokes. No more laughing until you can breathe better, mister."
Bobby nods silently and squeezes her hand tighter.
Athena is right, he thinks. It is usually Buck who comes out of these adventures with the worst injuries, the most trauma, the longest hospital stays. How did the universe's favorite golden retriever-slash-punching bag manage to be the least injured of anyone who fell? Only Ravi escaped with fewer injuries today.
It was a goddamn miracle.
Bobby closes his eyes and sends a prayer of thanks. God was looking out for Buck today, he thinks. For a change.
They pull up to the hospital and lift Bobby's gurney out of the ambulance. He floats backwards through the hospital doors, followed by his company. He stares at them, savoring the wonderful, magical fact that they are all alive.
The bottom of Buck's face is bloody and the dust in his hair is so thick you can't tell what color the hair is. In fact, all of them are covered in dust and most of them are bloodied, staggering in behind him. Eddie with his broken ribs; Hen valiantly trying to captain while barely functioning herself; Chim, already whisked inside.
Buck is the only one walking normally. He actually seems fully alert and full of puppy-dog energy - truly, the same as always - as he helps to push Bobby inside.
A whole company, all checking into one hospital. Bobby finds himself idly wondering how often this happens. How often does most or all of a company get injured at the same time? It hadn't ever happened under his watch, but he knows that it happens. Buildings collapse on entire battalions.
He realized that he was probably pretty doped up if these were the thoughts that were filling his brain.
Fine. I'm in the hospital now. I don't have to do any more thinking.
He is still surrounded by his company. He wants to close his eyes, but first he looks around at each of them. He is memorizing their faces, soaking in their voices.
There is Hen, in full Captain mode, describing Bobby's injuries. Then it's Buck leaning in, and with that big goofy smile, he says something about how he, Bobby, is indestructible. "It would take more than that to take out our Cap!" Or something. Bobby is having a hard time concentrating.
But how ironic that it is now Buck calling Bobby indestructible. Buck, who, you know, survived a tsunami, and blood clots, and horrible parents; and also, of course…a 25-ton ladder truck.
Today, for once, Buck is the lucky one. Today, Buck wasn't the one in the path of death. Today, Bobby didn't lose another son.
And it is a goddamn miracle.
Bobby smiles, and if he were more awake he might have noticed that he has tears in his eyes. But he doesn't notice. He closes his eyes, and lets himself drift.
—-
Two minutes later, the lobby is empty of everyone from the 118. Except Buck.
Buck stands still for a moment. It's so quiet and calm. No more crisis.
All he has to do now is wait a few minutes until Maddie gets here. She's going to meet him in the lobby. It will be so nice to have someone to hug.
Buck feels the adrenaline inside of him settling down a little. He pushes some breath out with a whoosh, trying to think calm thoughts and help himself relax. He immediately feels dizzy. Aw, crap. I better sit down.
Luckily, there is a chair right there. No one is watching, so there is no one to judge if he actually was able to sit or if it was…more of a collapse. Whatever. I'm good. He got down off his feet, that is all that matters. He feels a little better.
He looks up and is disappointed to see that there's a potted tree that is blocking his view of the front door, so this won't do. He doesn't want to miss Maddie. He tries to stand back up.
He can't. His legs won't obey him.
The world spins faster. Buck grabs on to the arm of the chair as if that will help. It won't.
Ugh, he thinks, this post-crisis reaction stuff is no fun. Come on, head, clear up.
It doesn't.
And then he starts to feel really weird. Sick and weak and shaky and hard to breathe and everything hurts -
Wait - what is going on? Something is really wrong -
What is happening to -
Before he can even finish the thought, Buck's eyes roll back into his head. He feels the world turning inside out around him and it's frightening and wrong.
"Help" he tries to call. He's not sure if he made any noise. And then he isn't sure of anything, and he falls into the fog.
—-
A few minutes later, Maddie runs into the hospital at full speed. She runs right through the lobby. No force on earth is going to stop her from reaching Chim.
She finds him in the E.R., high as a kite on painkillers. She cries with joy to see him alive, well, and adorably loopy. They banter a little, and kiss a little. Far too soon, she has to let go of his hand and leave the room. Leave him behind.
Her emotions are a wild mess: relief, joy, fear, grief... He'll be fine, she tells herself sternly. Her legs shake a little as she walks back out into the lobby. She doesn't want to be alone, and can't wait to see her baby brother. She's anxious to catch up with Buck; to hug him, to make fun of him, to laugh together, to cry together.
To know for sure that he really is OK.
I mean, she knows that he is OK - she has been involved in the details of today's rescue far more than she ever wanted - but. But.
I need to see him for myself.
She passes through the last set of swinging doors to the lobby, and scans the room. No sign of Buck.
I bet he's getting someone coffee. That boy never stops trying to help people.
Maddie heads to the front desk. The receptionist there is on the phone, and takes a couple of minutes to finish his conversation. Maddie doesn't mind waiting. She realizes that this is the first minute since she took the call from the rescue copter hours ago that she isn't running at full tilt. She takes a moment to lean on the counter. Rests her head on her hands. Breathes.
"Can I help you?"
The receptionist's voice startles her. Whoa, I almost fell asleep right here on the counter! She looks up quickly and clears her throat.
"Um. I'm looking for my brother. He's a firefighter. He was gonna meet me in the lobby. Tall, blond, goofy guy? Is he around?"
The receptionist smiles. "Buck."
Ah, yes, Maddie should have known that there is no corner of the world where Buck hasn't already made friends. "Yeah, I think he may be grabbing a catnap. Just like you!" They share a smile. "See his foot? He's behind that partition."
Maddie turns and yep, there is that size 13 firefighting boot poking around the corner. She feels her face burst into a smile and tears all at once.
She comes around the corner and there he is.
The receptionist is right - Buck is napping. Poor guy! It looks like he fell asleep almost before he could get comfortable. His head is awkwardly bent against the wall and his legs are sprawled out, blocking anyone from passing in front of him. Luckily he is in a corner, so no one needs to.
She stops for a second, soaking in the view. Her sweet baby brother! This "baby" is a six-foot tall fully grown firefighter, covered in dust and grime, manspreading across three chairs, who probably saved a bunch of lives today - but to her, he is still tiny, fragile Evan. She can see his hair, overdue for a cut, curling under the grime. He still has a little pout when he sleeps. His eyelashes are long. She can see them flutter on his cheeks.
She feels so much joy thrilling through her whole body. I am lucky to have him in my life! I am so lucky to have all of this! This wonderful life in L.A. I'm engaged to the best guy ever. I have the best job.
And she can finally share her life with Evan in a way that she never could before.
Before I got free.
Ugh, Doug. No. She doesn't let thoughts of Doug ruin her mood and pushes them away. Instead, she takes a breath, reaches forward and taps Buck on the shoulder.
"Hey!" she calls softly. He doesn't wake. She taps him again.
"Hey! Buuuuck…Wake up. You shouldn't be sleeping here, goofball."
She isn't sure what tips her off, but suddenly…something feels wrong.
Something is wrong.
She shakes him, harder, and calls his name louder. "Buck. Wake up! Buck, are you ok?"
She can't rouse him. What? What is going on? Buck! Her heart begins to race all over again. She looks down to grab his wrist and take his pulse…and that's when she sees the blood that is dripping out of his pants leg.
It's fresh blood, on top of the layers of dirt from the day, and it's pooling on the rubber boot and soaking into the carpet.
And there is a lot of it.
She is yelling before she can think. "I need help over here! I need a doctor!"
She grabs his pulse and shit, it's weak and thready. How much blood has he lost? What is going on?
Before she can blink, people are there. People are helping. Hands try to rouse him. They check his vitals and look for injuries. A doctor shines a light into his eyes. They're bringing over a gurney. She realizes how pale he is - she couldn't see it before under all the dirt.
And then someone pulls the boot off and there is blood EVERYWHERE.
Bright red, liquid blood. It's not clotting. There's so much of it. It's suddenly on her hands, in her hair. It's splashed on the face of the orderly next to her. She is fighting panic.
He got hurt. He got hurt and he didn't notice and he saved everyone else and he almost bled out.
Oh, Buck. Goddammit Buck!
Within minutes he is on a gurney and they are rolling him back to the ER exam rooms. She knows the protocol. They'll give him transfusions. They'll find the injury. They'll patch him up. He's going to be fine.
He's going to be FINE.
It's a prayer.
She's left alone in the lobby. She is shaking again. There is no one to give her the hug she desperately needs. She falls into a chair, any chair, and is suddenly weeping.
—-