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The voices of his teammates blend into a singular mass as he sinks to his knees, picking up vague snippets of shouted words. “Blanket,” “hypothermia,” “concussion?” fly around him, and everything hurts and his mind is screaming danger, but he is cold, so very cold, and nearly numb to those other things, so that he barely registers the jolt that falling to his knees brings to the rest of his body, and then there are hands on him, gentle hands, and the voices are softer now, though he still can’t quite make them separate enough to process what they are saying.
One of the hands that had been resting on his back leaves, and returns a second later, pressing a blanket to his body which he can feel against the back of his neck, and though it doesn’t feel like it’s doing much good in terms of warming him up, it makes him feel safe, at least. Safer. He isn’t in danger anymore, he tries to remind himself, not yet entirely sure that he believes it.
The hands on his back move positions, and someone says something to him which sounds important. He makes a very good effort to hear them-it’s Hen, he thinks, maybe, and she is telling him they are going to get him up and to an ambulance to be checked out (and taken to the hospital, no doubt).
He attempts to protest this. There is no way he can stand up at the moment, not when everything is so heavy and he can barely feel any part of his body-all he registers is cold. But evidently he is not in charge here, because he is lifted anyway, which is apparently all it takes to overcome the numb cold of his body as the movement jostles basically every single injury he has and makes them all scream in pain. If he felt less waterlogged and exhausted he might have screamed along with them, or at least yelped, but all he can manage is a faint groan, and even that feels like it’s draining what little energy there is left inside his body.
He has scarcely been moved into a standing position when he feels something creep up the back of his throat, and he slumps forward and vomits up a mouthful of muck, which burns, in sharp and horrible contrast to the cold. He sinks to his knees, but there are people supporting him now, so he doesn’t fall on his face, at least, which is something, and his stomach heaves again, and god, he’d swallowed a lot of water, hadn’t he?
Hands rub his shoulders through the blanket and push his damp hair off of his forehead. Voices speak above his head, quick and professional. He makes no effort to process them. Everything hurts.
When the water and mud seem to finally leave his system, there are once again gentle hands supporting him under the arms, lifting him slowly to his feet and carrying him to an ambulance. His mind clears ever so slightly, enough to notice that the people carrying him are Buck and Bobby, and then he is being carefully laid down in the ambulance, and Hen is there with him. If he had the strength to open and focus his eyes, he thinks she would probably be looking down at him, all business but with a reassuring smile on her face, like always. He hears Chim say something from the front of the cab as the engine starts, but they can’t leave, he needs-
He reaches his hand out blindly, sure that it will find its target, and smacks Buck across the face. Not very forcefully, granted, but a good solid smack. Buck grabs his hand, soft and gentle as anything, and holds on. Eddie blinks open his eyes with a monumental effort, and looks up at buck through a haze of pain and steadily-diminishing fear. Buck’s eyes latch right back onto his own, and he moves his thumb in small, reassuring circles on the back of Eddie’s hand. “You’re okay, Eddie. You’re safe.”
It takes him a moment to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain, but when he is finally able to speak, he says, “‘course I’m safe. ‘M with you.”
Buck smiles down at him, and there are tears in his eyes, or maybe there are tears in Eddie’s eyes, as he whispers, “I love you, Eddie Diaz,” so softly that Eddie is the only one who can hear him. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s muddy and frankly gross forehead. “I love you.”
Eddie thinks he would say it back if he hadn’t used up his little remaining strength on talking already. Instead, however, he simply squeezes Buck's hand a little tighter, and offers up a small, exhausted smile, hoping it's enough.
It’s the most beautiful thing Buck has ever seen.