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It wasn’t as if Buck had been avoiding getting checked out. It had just been too crazy. He wasn’t about to get set aside in a small cubical while Eddie was being held hostage in their ambulance. He wanted to be right there if he was needed.
The cut on his head hadn’t been all that noticeable. Hell, Athena looked right at him several times, and never saw it. But then again, she was a bit preoccupied. And if Buck snuck out of view a few times to wipe the slowly dripping blood from the tiny wound, that was his business.
And even after everything was handled, Mitchell was dead and Dom was in custody, and the kid was well on his way to a new lease on life, he was able to dodge the few looks of concern. It wasn’t that big of a deal. He’d had head wounds before. (The bowling ball slamming into his head came firmly to mind.) This was just another headache that he’d deal with, and all would be well.
Getting settled in his loft was more of a test of his patience. Taylor had given the appropriate response to him getting injured, and then immediately went into interrogating him about the whole situation. He wasn’t really in the mood, and besides, Eddie had asked him to keep the details on the quiet side. So he carefully dodged her questions and crashed out for a well deserved nap.
Waking up, however, was a lot harder than he had planned. Everything was spinning as he slowly came back into consciousness. The small pinprick of pain that had been the wound now was exploding with every twitch. He couldn’t even open his eyes; the light just added to the pain.
A whimper passed his lips as he forced himself to reach over and try to grab his phone. But it wasn’t there. He would normally plug it in… but of course, his phone was still in evidence, to be used against Dom in court.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Even thinking words hurt, sending him spiraling into a horrific spiral of pain and aching.
Buck tried to roll off the bed, intent on getting some sort of help, when he could just barely hear the sound of his front door clicking open. Is that Taylor? The thought formed and was dashed quickly. It hurt too much to think.
“Buck?”
His name echoed throughout the loft. Another whimper passed through his clenched jaw. There was no way he could respond, even if he knew exactly who was calling for him.
“Buckaroo?”
A different voice, female, joined the first. More urgent sounding. The sound of sure footsteps bounced off the walls of the loft, making everything feel even worse.
And then.
“Buck, you awake- Buck?!”
The woman’s voice grew louder, sharp. Footsteps slamming up his stairs, hands firmly on his shoulders. Every sound sent him back down that spiral. Another set of hands, more callused and tough, carefully pulled his arms away from his head, the only thing blocking out the light.
“Hey, hey, Buck, let me see. Athena, call Hen, Eddie too. He never got that head wound treated.”
The man’s words were quieter but just as firm and authoritative. He kept Buck from reaching up, but he also was helping block the light with his body. He didn’t dare probe the tiny injury, but still cursed when he got a good look at it.
“Damn it Buck, you are your own worst enemy sometimes,” Buck heard the man whisper. And just like that, he could place the voice. Bobby. His captain. Cleaning up his messes again.
“Hen’s in class. Eddie didn’t answer his house phone.”
Bobby cursed. “His phone’s still in evidence, Buck’s too, right?”
A pause, and then, “Yeah. But knowing Eddie, he’s on his way here.”
And as if he’d been summoned, the door clicked open again. Buck whimpered at the sharp sound, as well as the sound of the door bouncing off the wall.
Athena bit back another curse on the tip of her tongue. He heard her stomp away, but it was as if she was making a conscious effort to be quiet. Whispered floated up from below, but nothing made sense in his head.
It took a few minutes, but tense silence filled the loft. Buck sighed. The lack of sound was actually helping. Not even Bobby moved, seeming to see that the calm was helping.
Soft steps alerted him that someone was coming up. Buck did what he could to not wince. Even the muffled sound felt like stabbing, just not as bad as it could have been. Bobby shifted back, giving someone room to lean over.
And then.
“Idiota,” the whispered curse floated towards him. But the word wasn’t sharp. “Next time you hit your head, I’m going to strangle you.”
“Eddie, stop threatening him.”
A humorous chuckle. “I’m dragging him to Urgent Care. Second time in a month he gets knocked around in the same spot. I want to make sure that he hasn’t done more damage.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Let’s get him up.”
Get him up? No, bad idea. Everything hurts. He’s going to throw up. Apparently the words slipped through his lips close enough to an understandable language because his tiny trash can was suddenly against his chin.
After that pleasant experience, Buck couldn’t tell which way was up. Everything went back to spinning, before the darkness finally spun him away.