Work Text:
He can feel the truck spinning around him as he tries to breathe in the fresh air from Cap’s cracked window in an attempt to keep from throwing up. No one’s watching him. He’s sat against the edge, his knees pressed together so as to not knock Hen’s. The last thing he wants is someone shouting at him right now.
People are talking over the comms, but he’s not listening. He can’t really concentrate on it, even if he wanted to. And he knows this isn’t good – it was dangerous for everyone if he wasn’t at the top of his game. But if he told Cap now, he would give him a dressing down in front of all the other companies there for not saying anything earlier, which would naturally go into a lecture about how he wasn’t ready to come back to the station and how it was a mistake to let him back on calls. And frankly, he doesn’t want to hear all that when he’s fighting the urge to pass out.
The truck rolls to a stop and everyone files out. They’d been called out to a two-alarm fire – that was quickly turning into a three-alarm – to assist another company. An apartment block, lots of residents, not a lot of fire precautions, etc. Another truck pulled up behind them as they walked up to the IC.
Buck’s brain stops functioning as soon as he’s stood still. All his focus is on staying upright and looking normal that he forgets to actually listen to his orders. Buck feels as though the world is rocking violently side to side and he can taste ash on his tongue. A public dressing-down would be preferable to this, Buck thinks, but as he looks around, he realises everyone has gone their separate ways and Buck is left standing. Alone. Once again.
He blinks and suddenly, he’s walking over to the truck behind Eddie. Eddie grabs an O2 tank and mask, so Buck copies. Buck doesn’t hear if anything is said to him; he’s working on autopilot. The ground feels far away and the tank on his back feels like it’s pulling him backwards. He wonders whether his legs will be able to withstand this.
Eddie runs towards the fire, and just as Buck’s about to follow, a hand pulls him back and it takes every effort to stay standing. The white spots slowly dissipate and he tries to understand what just happened, when his eyes fall on Hen. Hen, with her hand still wrapped around his arm. She pulls him over to the white tents. He sees people, IV stands, off-white cots and realises a little late that this is triage. Hen pushes him gently in the direction of Yellow, and he stumbles over as he tries to get a grip back on reality.
He meets a man who hands him a saline bag and pulls his arm up above his head. Buck keeps it there as the man examines someone on a cot below. Words are spoken and people move about him and someone’s pulling the bag from his fingers so he tightens his grip. He catches sight of a metal frame as complaints sound from beside him and he lets the bag fall into the woman’s hand. He takes a step back and the man follows. He’s talking and his hand is outstretched, so Buck takes it.
“Buck,” he greets. It’s choked and raw and wrong but the man just smiles and continues to talk and talk and Buck is just trying to get his bearings. Someone pushes past him from behind and he remembers the O2 tank on his back. He slips it off of his shoulders and hands it to the man. He takes it with a confused smile and hands it over to a passing nurse. Buck watches her leave. Where is she bringing it? Was she allowed to take that? Would Bobby be annoyed that he was giving away LAFD property? Surely, they have plenty already?
The man appears in his line of sight, but there’s a spark of anger in his eyes now. Buck looks at him and tries to concentrate but the world is spinning more now and he feels untethered. They’re walking again. He doesn’t know where they’re going. The smell of smoke hits him as they walk out from the cover of the trucks, and Buck places a hand to his mouth and breathes in deep.
His steps are wobbly and his head hurts. The tank is off and he took off his turnout coat at some point between then and now and he feels like he’s flying away. There’s a hand on his shoulder again, and the man is in his line of sight again, yet there is no anger anymore. There are fingers being held up in front of his eyes, and he turns away. He doesn’t know. The man is asking questions like Buck’s been injured in the fire, but he hasn’t. He is fine. He recovered and he’s back and he’s fine now.
But then his knees are going weak and suddenly, he’s on all fours and there’s people around him and he can hear someone calling for Captain Nash, but Buck doesn’t want him to see. Bobby’s had enough of him being injured. Bobby doesn’t need to see this failing.
There are hands on his back and people are kneeling beside him but he’s trying to tell them he’s fine but all that’s coming out is groans and then he’s retching and he doesn’t know how he got here. There’s smoke in the air but he doesn’t know why. Is he dying again?
A voice breaks through the haze and suddenly, Bobby is looking at him and Buck wants to shrink away and disappear and reach out and hug him but he can’t do any of that because there’s too many lights in his eyes and hands on his body and his vision’s beginning to fade and he just wants to sleep.
He hears Bobby demanding (begging) him not to close his eyes as he slips into gentle darkness.