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“What am I looking at?”
Buck winced as one of the emergency room doctors immediately shined a light in his eye. The only thing the brightness did was make his headache worse.
For weeks, he’d been hiding that his head was throbbing. Loud noises and bright lights would have him biting back a slew of swear words and trying to push the pain behind him. He’d played off his initial injury - the situation that he never wanted to think or talk about, thanks so very much - as just a black eye. Weeks later, he was thinking that there was more damage, even if the bruise had finally faded.
Eddie’s hand suddenly rested on his shoulder, startling him out of his darkened memories. “He was pistol whipped, left side of his forehead. He didn’t lose consciousness after the injury.”
Only through sheer stubbornness… Buck let the thought bounce through his head.
But of course, Eddie was on a roll. “This is the second injury to his head he’s had in the past few weeks.”
Buck shrugged his friend’s hand off of his shoulder. The only reason he didn't turn around and glare was because his head was currently in the hands of the doctor and he wasn’t about to risk an injury or complaint. “Shut it, Eds.”
“They need to know to make sure there’s no damage. You shut it.” Eddie moved himself to be in Buck’s view, leveling a glare of his own. It wasn't completely full of heat, but mostly just stress and exhaustion.
His head throbbed again, making him regret his ire for a moment. “Just… keep the reason to yourself,” Buck found himself whispering, letting his eyes close after a particular throb of pain.
“What reason?”
This time Buck’s wince was shared by Eddie, and it wasn’t because of his head. Bobby stood in the doorway, looking about both of his subordinates with a raised eyebrow, a fleeting worried look slowly being replaced with one of confusion.
Well. This probably isn’t going to end well.