Post-Lawsuit because I love writting angst
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Summary
The midpoint between time and eternity; the mode of being of the angels, saints, and celestial bodies (which mediaeval astronomy believed to be unchanging)
"It doesn't matter anyway," Buck said, muffled slightly by his own arms. "The call goes out in twenty minutes. I called it in, the other unit responds, probably it's fine." A pause. "I've never gotten through this day. Every version of this day ends with the twenty-fifth and I wake up on October second." Another pause. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all."
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Buck stood in the center of the destruction, breathing in ragged gasps. Sweat poured down his face, his back. His t-shirt clung to him, soaked through. But he was freezing. Shaking so hard he could barely stand.
The fire under his skin burned hotter. Something was wrong. Something was happening inside him, twisting and churning and demanding-
Need. Safe. Need safe. Not safe. Need-
Buck's vision tunneled. His body moved without permission, autopilot taking over where conscious thought had fled. Up the stairs. Stumbling, nearly falling. His hands grabbed his comforter, sheets still tangled from this morning, a lifetime ago, and yanked them off the bed.
Down the stairs. Each step a monumental effort. His legs barely worked.
The blankets hit the floor in the only clear space left, near the couch. Not enough. Not enough.
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Summary
After the lawsuit, Buck notices a pattern: when he's hurt, people are kinder to him. When he bleeds, they pay attention.
He believes that when the universe scream, you must listen, so he does and he obeys, because that's how he comes back home.
Series
- Part 1 of Earn it
- Part 3 of Post-Lawsuit because I love writting angst