Work Text:
Buried Truths
The blood drive was supposed to be a simple event.A routine check, a quick donation, a good cause.
But for Buck, the moment he saw the sterile medical equipment, the moment he smelled the faint scent of antiseptic, something inside him recoiled.
It didn’t make sense.
He wasn’t afraid of blood. He saw it every day on the job. He wasn’t scared of needles. He had tattoos. And yet, the idea of lying back and letting someone take his blood made his skin crawl.
“No way,” Buck said, shaking his head as he backed away from the setup in the common area. “Not happening.”
“You’re a probie,” Chimney grinned, nudging him forward. “You don’t get a choice.”
Buck swallowed hard. “I just—I can’t. I don’t know why, but I can’t.”
Hen tilted her head. “Are you scared?”
“No!” Buck shot back too quickly, his stomach twisting. “I just… don’t like it.”
Bobby sighed, crossing his arms. “Buck, it’s a blood drive. A station-wide blood drive. Everyone’s doing it.”
“I’ll do double the chores,” Buck bargained, voice tight. “Triple.”
Eddie, who had been watching quietly, frowned. Something wasn’t right. Buck had faced fire, collapsing buildings, even explosions without blinking. But this had him practically shaking?
“Come on, kid,” Chim teased. “You’re a firefighter. A little needle ain’t gonna kill you.”
Buck’s whole body flinched at that.
And then, before he could react, hands grabbed him.
It was all in good fun—at first.
Laughing, teasing, his crewmates pinned him down, playfully strapping him to the chair so he couldn’t run.
“Guys, no, please—” Buck’s voice cracked, but they just chuckled, thinking he was being dramatic.
Until the needle got closer.
Until Buck’s vision flashed white—
Until—
Screaming.
Not here. Not now.
Somewhere else.
He was small. Tiny.
Held down. Strapped down.
A needle piercing his skin. Over and over and over.
His own cries echoing in his ears, pleas ignored, his body too weak to fight back.
Pain. Endless pain.
Reality slammed back into place as Buck gasped, his entire body shaking.
He was sobbing, broken, uncontrollable sobs that tore through him like a storm.
“No, no, no—please! I’m sorry! Please stop! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!”
The team froze.
“Buck?” Eddie’s voice was tight with concern. “Hey, hey, you’re okay—”
But Buck wasn’t okay.
He was thrashing against them, begging like a child, tears streaking his face.
Bobby was the first to move, undoing the straps immediately. “Let him go!”
The moment he was free, Buck curled into himself, hands gripping his head like he could physically force out the memories clawing their way in. His breaths came in short, panicked bursts, his chest heaving.
“Buck, breathe,” Hen instructed, but he wasn’t hearing her.
Then, just as quickly as it started, his body went limp.
His breathing slowed.
His eyes closed.
And he passed out.
The station was silent as they gathered around Bobby’s laptop.
After what happened, they knew something was wrong—something deep.
So they started digging.
And then they found it.
Evan Buckley – Saviour Sibling.
Born not out of love, not out of choice, but as a tool. A child meant to save another, created only to give what he could.
A boy whose brother still died anyway.
They found videos.
They almost didn’t click on them.
They should’ve never clicked on them.
The footage showed a baby.
A tiny, screaming baby.
Held down. Helpless.
Needles piercing his skin.
A voice in the background saying, "We need more blood. He’s too small, but we don’t have a choice."
Buck’s cries turned hoarse, his little body struggling, desperate for it to stop.
But it never stopped.
Hen clamped a hand over her mouth.
Chimney turned away, unable to watch.
Eddie’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“He didn’t know,” Bobby murmured, voice thick with grief. “He doesn’t remember.”
But his body did.
His soul did.
Buck stirred, blinking blearily. His head ached, and his chest felt tight.
“Hey, buddy.” Eddie was the first to kneel beside him. “You okay?”
Buck frowned, still dazed. “What… what happened?”
“You freaked out,” Chimney said gently. “And then you passed out.”
Buck swallowed, confusion and shame bubbling inside him. “I don’t—I don’t know why.”
The team exchanged looks.
Bobby sighed. “Buck… we found something.”
And then, gently, they told him.
Every word hit like a punch to the gut.
A saviour baby.
Used for his blood.
For a brother who died anyway.
And then—
They showed him the video.
The moment Buck saw the tiny, screaming baby, his own screams, something inside him broke.
His chest seized.
His vision blurred.
His mind went silent.
And then—
He stopped breathing.
Fighting for Him
“Buck?! Buck!”
“Shit—he’s not breathing!” Hen snapped into action, checking his airway. “He’s dissociating, he’s holding his breath—”
“Buck, buddy, you gotta breathe!” Eddie shook him, desperation clawing at his throat.
But Buck was gone.
His body rigid.
His mind elsewhere.
His lips started turning blue.
Bobby made the call. “Tube him. Now.”
They didn’t hesitate.
Chimney got to work, carefully inserting the tube while Eddie held Buck’s hand, whispering words Buck couldn’t hear.
“Come on, Buck,” he murmured. “Stay with us, man.”
Hours passed.
The team took turns watching over Buck, keeping an eye on his vitals, praying he would snap out of it.
Then—
A gasp.
A choked, panicked noise—
Buck’s eyes flew open.
The moment he felt the tube, his hands flew to his throat, clawing at it.
“Shit, he’s awake!” Hen moved fast. “Calm down, Buck, we’re taking it out—stop fighting!”
They worked together, removing the tube as gently as possible. The second it was gone, Buck sucked in a desperate, shuddering breath—
Then broke down completely.
Sobbing.
Eddie pulled him in without hesitation, wrapping Buck in his arms.
“We’ve got you,” he whispered. “We’re right here.”
The team closed in, surrounding him, letting him feel their warmth, their presence.
And finally, after what felt like forever—
Buck fell asleep, safe in their arms.
And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone.