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When Buck opens his eyes, his heart skips a beat. It tends to do that now, ever since… Well, ever since it stopped beating, full stop.
His apartment is quiet, and he takes a deep breath. He stares at the ceiling. He goes through his list.
Ever since his coma, Buck’s been having trouble figuring out whether he’s really here or not. He supposes he knew, in the coma, that something was up. But let’s be real here, stranger things have happened in his years with the LAFD. His brother miraculously returning from the dead wouldn’t even surprise him all that much, honestly. A little, but that’d be it.
When real life is at times more bizarre than fiction, how do you distinguish between the two? How can he know he’s really here, in his own bed, instead of hooked up to some machine trying to recover from god knows what?
Buck takes another deep breath.
The list.
What he told Maddie was true. Every time when he wakes up, he goes through his checklist of sorts. He has to, or else he feels like he’s losing his mind. Kind of inconvenient when you wake up at four in the morning because you have to pee, but Buck supposes that’s just a side-effect of nearly dying. It’s better than being dead, after all.
First, time of day. It’s never night in his coma dream. He pushes himself up from the bed, and reaches for the curtains. The bright streetlight outside of his appartement assaults his eyes the moment he shifts them, and he blinks furiously as he lets both the curtains and himself drop back down.
Night. Definitely night. That’s good. It's never night in the coma.
Then comes the most important, but also the scariest part. He fumbles for his phone on the nightstand, and opens his texts. Other deep breath. In, and out.
Bobby and Buck had never been much of texters, before, and they still aren’t, if Buck is being honest. Right now, all their text thread is is just an endless wall of the same interaction, repeated over and over again. Buck knows Bobby must be getting sick of this, sick of him, but he can’t help it. At the mere idea of Bobby being gone, Buck feels like he cannot breathe.
He types out his text. Sends it. Drops the phone to his chest, and waits.
This is the hardest part. Right before, when everything is possible. Because what if Bobby suddenly doesn’t respond? What if Buck is back in his coma, and all of this has been an elaborate fever dream? What if…
His phone buzzes, and he brings it up close to his face.
[06:21] Buck: Morning! Everything okay?
[06:22] Bobby ‘Cap’ Nash: Good morning to you too. Yes, all good.
He reads the text once, twice, really lets the words sink in. When he’s satisfied, he nods the tiniest nod. He shoots back a response, and wants to put his phone away when he hears another ding.
[06:22] Bobby ‘Cap’ Nash: Still here to help you find your way home.
Buck still has the rest of his list to work through, but he cannot help but crack a small smile. Bobby’s okay. And maybe, just maybe, that means he can be, too.