Chapter Text
Almost a week had passed since the funeral when Buck found himself at a bar. He felt a little hypocritical, after all the grief he’d given Chimney about trying to drink your problems away, but he could be a hypocrite with a drink in his hand and mind slightly at ease.
He didn’t remember how he got home that night, just that he woke up with a pounding headache and nausea swirling in his stomach. His hungover state and confusion could be blamed for his next actions.
Rolling over with a groan, Buck dragged his hands down his face before sitting up. He reached for his phone and glanced at the time—still plenty left to get ready for work. Morning light spilled in through the blinds. Then, almost on autopilot, he fired off a text.
A quick text to Bobby.
-real?
It wasn’t a completely out-of-the-ordinary act. It was a habit he’d picked up ever since waking up from the coma following the lightning strike. More often than not, he’d sometimes open his eyes to find the world just…off. Untethered. It had actually been Bobby who had come up with a checklist to help ground him. Well, after practically forcing Buck to open up to him.
- Check the time — “It was never night in my dream,” he’d told Bobby once.
- Then text Bobby — “I’ll always respond. I promise, Kid.”
Over the months, that had turned into its own little routine:
Monday — 6:04 a.m.
-morning cap, still real world, right?
Bobby: Morning, Kid. Still real world. – Bobby Nash.
Tuesday — 9:47 a.m.
-reality check.
Bobby: You’re still here, kid. – Bobby Nash.
Wednesday — 7:23 p.m.
-real or cake?
Bobby: Real. Whatever that means. – Bobby Nash.
Thursday— 3:46 a.m.
Bobby: I can see you typing, Buck. Yes. You’re awake. Now, why are you awake? – Bobby Nash.
-why are you awake??
Bobby: Go to sleep, Kid. I’ll see you tomorrow. – Bobby Nash.
Friday— 11:26 a.m.
-you’re still alive, right?
Bobby: Yes, and so are you. – Bobby Nash.
Sunday — 1:05 a.m.
-can’t sleep.
Bobby: Do you want to talk? – Bobby Nash.
-sorry.
Bobby: You don’t need to apologize, Kid. Just pick up when I call. – Bobby Nash.
-okay. thank you.
Sunday — 2:50 p.m.
-am I really awake this time?
Bobby: Absolutely. Now go back to sleep, you were up pretty early this morning.
It might look silly to others, and even at times Buck felt silly doing it, but the reassurance genuinely helped ease his mind. The texts quieted the nagging uncertainty that burdened his thoughts.
Setting his phone back down, Buck continued on with his morning routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed, took his medication, and was on his way out the door.
Buck was greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and engine oil as he entered the station. His head throbbed faintly, the lingering ache from last night making each step feel heavier than it should. But beyond that, the entire station just felt…heavier. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, only that something felt off.
“Buck?” Chimney’s voice called out, startling him from his thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah—yeah, sorry,” Buck replied, shaking his head as if that might clear the fog from his mind.
Hen leaned casually against the wall, stirring her coffee, and Ravi sat on the bench, finishing tying his boots. Their presence should have been grounding, familiar—but even that felt slightly alien, as if he were seeing them through a haze. He moved toward the lockers, tugging on his uniform, trying to anchor himself in routine.
“Rough night?” Hen asked casually, stepping fully into the room, though her eyes lingered on him.
“Uh…a little,” Buck admitted, forcing a smile that felt wrong.
Ravi looked up, tilting his head. “No offense, man, but you look like crap.”
“Thanks,” Buck muttered sarcastically. “Exactly what I needed to hear today.”
“Hey,” Chimney chimed in. “If you need to talk, we’re all here.” He paused, frowning. “Especially now. We need each other more than ever.”
Hen hummed in agreement, and Ravi’s expression fell, his gaze dropping to his lap.
Before Buck could respond, a voice cut through the room—firm, familiar, and official. Not Bobby’s. Not their captain. Gerrard.
Buck froze. “What the hell is he doing here?” He couldn't stop himself from asking. Or better yet. Where the hell is Bobby?
Hen exhaled slowly. “He’s here until…you know. The spot’s filled.” Her voice softened. “Anyway, come on, guys. Last thing we need right now is a write-up.”
“Wait.” Buck stopped mid-step. “Where’s Eddie? He’s not usually late.”
Hen and Ravi exchanged a glance. Hen stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” She pressed the back of her hand briefly to his forehead, no doubt checking for a temperature.
Buck swatted her hand away and stepped back.
“Buck,” Chimney started, eyebrows furrowed, “Eddie’s back in Texas. We just said goodbye to him on Wednesday.”
“You were there,” Ravi pointed out, not unkindly.
Buck frowned, trying to remember. Was I there?
He could feel all their concerned stares, and a tightening unease settled in his chest.
“Right,” he forced a strained laugh that he knew none of them believed. “Mind still foggy from last night. Sorry.”
They didn’t look convinced, but it was enough to get them moving forward with their shift. Still, in the back of his mind, a quiet, persistent thought gnawed at him: Something’s definitely wrong.
Buck moved through the rest of the shift almost on autopilot, robotic even. He needed to keep busy, anything to occupy his mind before it capsized from his thoughts.
As he passed the front of the bay, something caught his eye—a small arrangement of photos and mementos taped to the side of the desk. He froze, squinting. A photo of Bobby smiled back at him, framed by a wreath of white flowers and scattered floral arrangements on the table beneath it.
Buck’s chest tightened. Why is this here? He blinked rapidly, unsure if he was seeing clearly or if his mind was simply playing tricks.
He didn’t realize how long he’d stood there before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Buck flinched back instinctively.
“Whoa, hey,” Chimney said, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Sorry… just got distracted,” Buck mumbled, voice tight. His gaze lingered on the memorial, unwilling to leave it.
Chimney’s eyes followed his line of vison, and he let out a long, quiet sigh. They stood in silence for a moment, the hum of the bay filling the gap.
Finally, Chimney spoke again. “I meant to take it down,” he said, his voice soft, almost self-deprecating. “But…somehow it feels like if I do, it makes it even more real. That he’s really gone.”
Buck’s throat tightened. He nodded slowly, trying to swallow the lump of grief rising in his chest. He forced himself to turn back to the trucks, to the routine, but the weight of the memorial clung to him, pressing through every motion, every sound, every familiar corner of the station. It felt like he was reliving his grief a second time.
“Hey, talk to your sister. She’s worried about you.” Chimney added before Buck is fully out of earshot.
Buck barely heard him over the roaring in his ears.
The last calls of the day had come and gone, the bay slowly quieting as the crew wrapped up and stored equipment. Buck slung his jacket over his shoulder, moving toward the exit with the mechanical movements of someone half-present, just going through the motions.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out automatically, barely registering it at first. A message from Maddie:
Hey, just checking on you. Come visit, the kiddo misses you. I love you.
By all accounts, it should have been just a normal text. And it was. That text wasn’t what caught his attention. As he unlocked his phone to respond, it opened up to his previous text thread. His text thread with Bobby—the one from that morning.
Real?
Just one word. Such a simple text that managed to hold so much weight.
The text glowed back at him.
Unanswered.
Bobby always answered—some calm reassurance, a wry joke, just something to pull Buck back onto solid ground. But now—the silence pressed in, thick and unyielding. Maybe that alone should have explained the unease, proof that Buck was drowning in grief too heavy to move through like normal.
Instead, something shifted. Slowly, pieces of the day fell into place. Why he had felt so disoriented, why the station seemed wrong, why everything felt so out of place. A strange, almost hysterical bubble of joy rose in his chest.
Bobby wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead.
Why?
Because Buck was still dreaming.
He hadn’t woken up from his coma yet.
The next day found Buck leaving his apartment and driving to meet Maddie for lunch. She had been ecstatic when he took her up on her offer, her voice warm over the phone. It made him feel a little guilty, having made her worry over him.
By the time he pulled up outside Maddie’s building, his chest felt both tight and strangely light, like he was carrying two opposing truths at once. On one hand, he was positively terrified at the prospect that he was still asleep, but also relieved. Relieved to know that the reality he’d been stuck in—the one where Eddie and Christopher were gone for good and Bobby was dead—wasn’t the real one.
He climbed the stairs and knocked, the door swinging open almost immediately. Maddie greeted him with a bright smile, her other hand instinctively resting on the curve of her heavily pregnant belly as she pulled him into a tight hug. The familiar warmth and scent of her made his chest loosen, if only for a moment.
“Uncle Buck!” a small, excited voice exclaimed.
Jee-yun ran toward him, arms wide in excitement. Buck froze for a moment, a flicker of disorientation running through his mind. In his coma dream, Maddie had held a different child. But this—this was undeniably his niece, Jee. For a heartbeat, he hesitated, unsure how to reconcile the memory with reality.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said slowly, bending down to scoop her up. “I missed you.”
Jee giggled, hugging him tightly, and Maddie’s soft chuckle followed. She adjusted her weight, one hand resting on her back, no doubt trying to relieve some of the pain. The motion made Buck pause, a small, grounding reminder that life continued in this reality, even if parts of his mind still lingered in the dream.
Maddie’s soft chuckle followed. “She’s happy to see you.”
Buck’s gaze lingered on Jee-yun longer than usual. She wasn’t the child from his dream but he shook it off, forcing himself to focus on the present, the warmth of the apartment, the normalcy of the moment.
Still, the little details pressed in. Jee’s laughter, the shuffle of her tiny shoes on the floor, the smell of lunch—it reminded him that this reality was different. If Jee was here, Maddie must be with Chimney. Doug wasn’t part of this world. That realization, strange as it felt, brought real relief. His sister was safe. He wasn’t sure how coma dreams and their timelines worked, but he tried not to linger too much on it.
They moved into the kitchen, the smell of roast filling the air. Buck leaned against the counter, watching Maddie make a plate for Jee, taking her time to cut everything into small, bite-sized pieces. The domestic calm of the moment felt so solid, so ordinary, it made his chest ache.
“Eat something, okay?” Maddie said, sliding a plate toward him. He nodded before ushering her to take a seat as well.
He lifted a forkful of roast to his mouth, groaning as the flavor hit his tasetbuds. “This is amazing, Maddie,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Maddie laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it’s just been a minute since you’ve had an actual meal. And no”—she cut in quickly as Buck’s mouth started to open, no doubt to argue—“a frozen TV dinner does not count.”
“Hey, frozen dinners have their charm,” Buck protested. “But yeah, this is way better.”
“You’re not just saying that because I made it, are you?” Maddie teased.
“Maybe a little,” Buck teased, “but mostly because it’s true. You’ve outdone yourself.”
Maddie’s expression softened. “I’m glad you’re here, Buck. You look…tired, though. Really tired.”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he murmured, watching Jee spear a carrot with careful concentration. “It’s just…been a weird week.”
The words hung there. He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter, as if movement might shake off the haze. “Hey, where’s Mom and Dad?” he asked, letting his eyes drift toward the hallway as though they might appear.
Maddie blinked, surprise flickering across her face. “Home. In Pennsylvania, same as always. Why?”
Buck forced a light chuckle and a small shrug. “Just wondering… haven’t checked in for a while, I guess.”
She studied him for a beat before giving a slow nod. “Right.”
He lowered his gaze to the plate, spearing another bite of roast, the flavors suddenly flat. “Just curious,” he added, almost to himself, as if the question had been no more than an idle thought—though the echo of it tugged at him, a reminder that he wasn’t truly home.
Guess that was different in this reality, too.
It felt like waking up for the first time all over again. Every glance, every detail, was another quiet test he had to study for. He was back at the start, forced to learn the rules of a world that only sometimes matched the one he remembered. Each answer from Maddie felt like a breadcrumb, and he followed them even as the path refused to make sense.
He chewed slowly. He would have to relearn everything, piece by piece, if he wanted to make it out of here.
“So, how have you really been?” Maddie broke the silence, leaning back slightly. “I mean, since…everything.”
Buck paused, fork hovering halfway to his mouth. “I’m—I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been weird. Hard to explain. I keep thinking I should feel normal, but…” He trailed off, searching her face for understanding.
“You don’t have to explain, Buck,” Maddie said softly. “I get it. You went through a lot. You all did”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah…I just—sometimes things feel off. Like…I’m not entirely here, you know?”
Maddie’s brow furrowed, worry flickering in her eyes. “You’re here now,” she replied, placing a warm hand over his. “And that’s what matters. We’ll figure the rest out together, okay?”
Her quiet certainty tugged at something in him—both comfort and ache.
She reached out with her other hand, pinky extended, a simple, wordless promise.
Buck let out a soft chuckle and hooked his pinky with hers. “United front,” he murmured, a faint smile forming even as a shadow of doubt lingered at the edge of his thoughts.
They had eventually moved over to the couch, Jee off in her room playing with her toys. Maddie eased back into the cushions with a soft sigh.
Buck chuckled, leaning beside her. “You look like you’re ready to pop.”
Maddie shot him an unimpressed glare. “And I feel like it, too.”
As if a last minute thought, she then swatted at his arm, ignoring his exaggerated yelp and pout. “And never tell a pregnant woman that,” she added, shaking her head with a faint smile.
Buck raised both hands in surrender, laughter slipping out. “Noted, noted,” he said, settling deeper into the couch.
The quiet settled for a beat, broken only by the distant sounds of Jee’s giggles and chattering. “This house is so quiet,” he said at last, glancing around. “Guess Daniel’s at work.”
Beside him, Maddie went rigid.
He turned, surprised by the shift in her posture. She was watching him, expression unreadable.
“Daniel?” she asked softly.
Buck blinked, tilting his head. “Yeah…Daniel, our brother. What’s—?” He stopped as her eyes narrowed in confusion and concern.
The weight of her gaze pressed in. Right. Not here, either. Not even in a reality of his own making, he couldn’t rewrite that loss. That one kind of stung, he had to admit. In a world built solely by his own imagination, he still couldn’t save his brother..Figures.
He cleared his throat and shifted, forcing a small, easy smile that felt brittle. “Uh…you know, I should probably get going. Early morning tomorrow.”
“Buck—” Maddie’s voice held quiet worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly, a strained laugh escaping as he reached for his jacket. Before turning to leave, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Maddie’s forehead. “Tell Jee I love her,” he murmured.
Maddie stayed seated, eyes following him as he moved to the door. “Love you,” she said, her voice careful.
“Love you too,” Buck replied, managing a nod before stepping out, the door’s soft click behind him sounding louder than it should.
When Buck finally returned to his apartment, his mind was already swirling with thoughts. He’d drawn too much negative attention to himself today. He needed to get his facts straight—which was harder than it should be in a reality that didn’t quite feel real.
Buck sank onto the couch, phone in hand, staring at the glowing screen as if it held the answers. He began running through the day in his head, cataloging the differences between this reality and the one he remembered—or thought he remembered.
In this reality, time moved forward. Maddie was pregnant. Jee existed, and not the child from his coma-dream. Eddie was gone, back in Texas. Daniel wasn’t alive here. And Bobby…Bobby was dead.
At least Bobby’s alleged death aligned with what he remembered from his dreams. That small consistency offered a strange comfort—but also an unbearable ache. He needed to find Bobby. That was the only way out—or at least, he hoped it would be. He couldn’t even be sure he’d wake up. But deep down, he just missed him. Being around Bobby, even briefly, might calm the panic gnawing at his nerves.
Last time, Bobby had been hiding out in the hospital. Buck didn’t know which one. You’d think, with this being his dream and all, he’d have fewer variables to track, simpler lines to follow—but nothing was simple for Evan Buckley, especially when his own mind refused to trust the reality he was living in.
He stood abruptly, jacket in hand, pacing the small apartment. Every step, every sound, the distant hum of traffic, the flicker of light against the walls, felt like a reminder that time was moving, and he was dangerously unmoored. I have to find him. I have to make sure he’s real. I have to—-
His gaze fell to his phone again. The unanswered texts from Bobby glowed back at him, like evidence of the gap in this reality. Bobby…he’s not here. He’s not responding. I need to find him. I need to make sure he’s real.
The thought solidified into a driving urgency. If he could locate Bobby, maybe he could confirm what was real and what wasn’t, maybe finally anchor himself. He could finally wake up.
Buck jumped to his feet, grabbing his jacket. Every step toward the door was filled with purpose. The apartment felt tighter, smaller, every shadow and flicker feeding his mounting paranoia: I’ll find him. I’ll fix this. I have to fix this.
Buck moved through the next few days in a restless haze. He visited every hospital he could think of, pacing the sterile corridors, peering into waiting rooms, asking nurses if anyone had seen Bobby Nash. Each time, the answer was the same: no. Sometimes, they gave him polite looks; other times, confused ones, as if he were just a worried visitor who wouldn’t let go.
Every “no” frayed his nerves a little more. Every empty hallway felt like a confirmation that something was wrong—that he was still trapped in a coma, that this reality wasn’t real, and Bobby was still out there, somewhere, waiting for him to wake up.
He started calling different wings, leaving messages, writing down names, jotting down times, running over every detail he remembered from before. His apartment became cluttered with hospital pamphlets, scribbled notes, and crumpled coffee cups. He barely slept, barely ate, and his phone was glued to his side, just in case Bobby finally answered.
By the fourth day, Maddie’s messages had shifted from playful check-ins to genuine concerns, though he barely registered them. Everything was just a reminder that he was failing to anchor himself in this world.
Buck’s desperation had grown with each passing day. He arrived at yet another hospital, one he hadn’t checked yet, moving quickly through the lobby and straight toward the information desk. His mind raced: Bobby has to be here. He has to be. I need to know he’s real.
“Excuse me,” Buck said, leaning forward slightly, voice a little sharp. “Have you seen—”
“Sir, can I help you?” the receptionist asked cautiously, noticing the wild intensity in his eyes.
“Bobby Nash. He’s supposed to be here. Emergency, he’s—he’s my friend,” Buck said, pacing, hands clenching and unclenching. “I need to find him now.”
The receptionist’s eyes widened. She glanced toward the nurses behind her. “Sir…you can’t just—”
Buck cut her off, voice rising. “I know he’s here! He was in the supply closet. Just tell me which floor, which room! I can’t—”
A nurse stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Sir, calm down. You can’t keep running around like this. Security will be called if you don’t step back.”
Buck’s chest tightened, panic roaring. He yanked his arm free and backed toward the elevators, muttering, “I just need to know he’s here. I have to know…” His voice trailed off, frantic.
Another nurse pulled out her phone. “I’m calling for help. Please step away—sir, please!”
The staff exchanged worried glances.
By the time Buck realized the security team was moving toward him, he bolted out of the lobby, heart hammering, sweat running down his temple. He didn’t stop until he reached the street outside, gasping for breath, hands shaking. I have to find him. I have to. I need to make sure he’s alive.
Athena sat at her desk, scrolling through reports, though her focus kept drifting. The soft hum of computers and the distant shuffle of officers moving about the precinct created a familiar background noise that usually helped her concentrate. Today, it did little to steady her. Her mind kept drifting, attempting to fog over in grief, and she had to shake her head firmly, forcing herself back to the present.
From near the break room, she caught fragments of conversation that immediately made her freeze.
“…so apparently he’s been going from hospital to hospital today, asking for a Bobby Nash,” one officer said casually, tossing a coffee mug onto the counter. “Staff said he’s pacing, won’t listen, and security almost had to get involved.”
“Yeah,” another replied, stretching and leaning against the wall. “They think he’s losing it—psychotic episode or something. Just wandering around, asking for this guy. Polite, mostly, but insistent. Can’t get him to calm down.”
Athena’s hand tightened around her pen. Bobby Nash. The name echoed sharply in her mind. The casual way they spoke it, like it was just another person, hit her harder than she expected. Memories of him flickered through her—his smile, the late-night talks, the quiet weight of his absence. Her chest tightened, an ache flaring up unexpectedly.
She leaned back in her chair slightly, trying to steady herself. Her sharp eyes caught every detail of the conversation, cataloging the hospitals, the pacing, the insistent questions.
“Where is he now?” Her voice cut through the air like a whip, calm, controlled, but carrying the authority of a sergeant.
The room froze. Heads snapped toward her, and one officer nearly dropped his coffee.
“Sergeant?” he stammered, eyes wide.
Athena’s gaze was steady, almost piercing. “You were discussing Mr. Nash,” she said, eyebrow slightly arched. “And a man going from hospital to hospital asking about him?”
A guilty silence settled over the room. The officers exchanged quick, uncomfortable glances. One muttered, “Uh…yeah…we didn’t realize—”
Everyone in the room knew the weight of that name for her. Bobby had been her husband. She was the last to see him alive. His absence still left a quiet, aching hollow in her life that no one else could fill. Suddenly, their casual discussion seemed almost cruel in its ignorance.
Athena’s jaw tightened, but she took a slow, deliberate breath. “Just forward me any reports made on this,” she said, her voice softening slightly while still holding its commanding edge.
The officers muttered in agreement, fidgeting awkwardly, aware now that they had crossed an unspoken line. Athena didn’t dwell on their guilt. Her mind was already racing, plotting her next move.
Athena rubbed her temples briefly, the ghost of grief for Bobby pressing down on her, but she shoved it aside. There was no time for that now. She stood, adjusting her jacket, posture all business. Her gaze drifted to the window, the city sprawling below—busy, indifferent. Somewhere in that chaos, a person was searching, spiraling. She would find them. She had to.
And beneath it all, the echo of Bobby’s absence lingered—a quiet, aching reminder that some losses never fully heal, even as new crises demanded her attention.
Buck felt like he was suffocating with each passing moment he spent in this loft, the walls closing in with every step he took. The place was a chaotic reflection of his mind—papers and sticky notes littered every flat surface, scribbled with reminders of what was “different” in this reality:
Maddie pregnant, Jee here, Eddie gone, Daniel gone, Bobby—gone. It was like a mantra repeating in his mind.
His desk was no better. Open notebooks with frantic handwriting jutted out at odd angles, some pages torn and crumpled, others folded into sharp points. His laptop sat open, tabs for hospital directories, news articles, and maps of the city glowing in the dim light, a testament to hours spent tracking every lead.
Buck paced, jittery and uneven, phone clutched like a lifeline. Every chime, every vibration, every flicker of the screen felt like it could hold a clue—or a lie. He muttered under his breath, voice fraying. “He has to be here…he has to be real…” The words bounced off the walls, swallowed by the low hum of the city outside.
He sank onto the couch, leaning over a mound of crumbled papers, staring at his reflection in the darkened window. His own eyes looked foreign, wide and wild, hair sticking up in every direction. “Why won’t you answer?” he whispered to the phone, pressing it to his chest. “I’m here…you promised…”
The apartment was oppressive. The clutter pressed in from every corner. A knocked-over plant, empty coffee mugs, crumpled napkins, and receipts mixing with hospital printouts. Time had no meaning. Minutes and hours collapsed into each other. Every sound added to his growing feeling of uneasiness.
He grabbed the phone again, scrolling frantically through the old messages, landing on the ones from Bobby from that morning—still unanswered. His chest tightened, a mix of panic and disbelief flooding in. “No…he’s here…he has to be here…”
Buck slumped back against the couch, surrounded by the wreckage of his own making, phone clutched to his chest. The apartment was quiet now, eerily so. But the silence didn’t soothe him. It amplified the ache, the confusion, the certainty that he was trapped in a dream he couldn’t wake from—not until he found Bobby.
There was a knock on his door. Followed by the knock, a soft, familiar voice cut through the haze. “Buck, hey.”
He froze. His heart leapt, throat tight. Maddie. Maddie? The sound of her voice, calm and caring, wove through the chaotic jumble in his mind.
“It’s Maddie. Open the door.”
The words were simple, patient, but every syllable seemed amplified in his spinning thoughts. His apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in. Papers littered the floor, mugs teetered on counters, and stacks of mail threatened to topple. The room was alive, taunting him, mocking his inability to anchor himself.
A sudden pang of guilt stabbed at him. Maddie…she had to see him like this. She didn’t deserve to worry. He was supposed to be strong, to be there for her. And now, here she was, standing outside his door, concerned, probably fearing for him. I’m scaring her…again. I can’t…
Then another voice, much firmer, direct, controlled.
“Buck, it’s Athena. We need you to open up.”
He took a trembling step toward the door, then froze again, breathing shallow. Each heartbeat thundered in his ears. Buck’s hand hovered over the doorknob, trembling, as if touching it might shatter the fragile thread tethering him to the world. He stumbled backward before finally gripping the handle and pulling the door open.
Maddie and Athena stepped cautiously into the building, taking note of the wreckage that was Buck’s home. Their eyes scanned over the room before finally landing on him.
Maddie’s brows knit together. “Buck…what happened here?”
“What are you guys doing here?” He asked, not unkindly.
Athena moved further in, taking in the room. “You’ve had a rough few days, huh?” she asked, her tone gentle but wary.
Buck shrugged, muttering, “Yeah…just…trying to get everything…in order. Just…trying to make sense of it all.”
Maddie frowned slightly. “Make sense of what, Buck?”
He waved a hand vaguely, as if the motion could encompass all the chaos in his mind. “Everything. Life. People…things. Just…trying to keep up, I guess.”
“I’m worried about you,” Maddie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You haven’t answered my calls. Or any of my texts——”
“I know, I know,” Buck interrupted, his voice tight, one hand fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “But I’m fine…sorry for worrying you.”
Athena’s gaze sharpened. “This isn’t fine,” she stated, her eyes moving from the spilled coffee on the counter to the scattered photo frames. “When was the last time you slept?”
Buck’s fingers twitched around the phone. “I’m fine. Really. Just—needed to think. Clear some things up.”
“By tearing your place apart?” Athena asked, her brow lifting. She exhaled, softening her tone. “Buckaroo, talk to us.”
Maddie stepped closer, her voice gentle but edged with worry. “Chim said you’ve been acting…off,” she said quietly. “And I’ve noticed it too. God, Buck—you asked about Daniel.”
Buck flinched at the name, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I—yeah, I know what I said,” he muttered, eyes darting around the room, searching for anything to avoid maintaining contact. “It was just a slip.”
“A slip?” Maddie’s voice cracked despite her effort to stay calm. “What is going on with you?”
He shifted, the smile faltering. “I’m just…trying to make sense of things. Feels like I’m…missing pieces.”
Athena stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “Pieces of what?”
Buck shook his head quickly. “It’s nothing. Just…noise. You wouldn’t get it.”
Maddie’s heart ached at the defensive edge in his tone. “Then help us understand,” she said quietly. “Because we want to.”
Buck glanced away, jaw tight. He could feel the weight of their stares, the silent plea in Maddie’s eyes. He let out a deep exhale.
“It’s nothing.” He decided on.
Athena’s voice cut through the heavy stillness.
“Buck,” she said, steady and deliberate, “I need you to listen to me for a second.”
He stayed where he was, shoulders rigid, phone clenched in one hand.
“There’ve been reports,” Athena continued, eyes never leaving his, “of someone going from hospital to hospital this week. Asking about a man named Robert Nash.” She let the name settle. “I know that was you.”
Maddie’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh, Buck…” she whispered, the sound full of sorrow.
Buck’s breath hitched. The sound of Bobby’s name landed like a punch.
“I—I was just—” His voice cracked, words stumbling.
Athena kept her gaze fixed on him, calm but unyielding. “You’re not in any trouble,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Believe me, I—of all people—know how much he meant to all of us. But Bobby’s gone, Buck. You have to stop.”
Buck’s hands trembled. “I…I just needed to find him,” he whispered, the admission spilling out before he could stop it. “I thought maybe—if I could just see him, this would all make sense again.”
“I know it’s hard,” Maddie said softly, trying to reassure him. “Bobby was a great man, and this change is going to affect all of us.”
But Buck shook his head, cutting her off. “It’s not like that, Mads…” He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trapped.”
Maddie’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He took a heavy inhale, once again fidgeting with his hands.
“I’m in a coma…I’m dreaming”.
“Buck, what—”.
“I know it sounds crazy,” he cut in, voice trembling. “But I’ve been through this before—or I guess technically not—but I thought I had woken up…and I’m still asleep.”
Silence fell over the apartment, heavy and suffocating.
“Buck, you’re not dreaming. You did wake up”.
“No, I didn’t!” Buck’s voice cracked as his eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to make sense of. “Because—because Bobby and Eddie would be here right now. This is just like my dream.”
He started pacing, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Bobby said he’d always respond, and he didn’t, so that must mean I’m dreaming. He always responds. He always…” Buck’s voice broke off, his breath coming quicker, more uneven.
“Buck…” Maddie took a small step forward but didn’t reach for him, afraid of pushing him further. “I know this feels just like before, but it’s not. You’re here. You’re awake.”
Athena’s gaze tracked him carefully as he moved. Her tone stayed low, measured. “Bobby isn’t here because he’s gone, Buck. Eddie’s in Texas. This isn’t a dream. It’s just…life. It’s cruel, but it’s real.”
Buck’s chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow bursts now, his words tumbling out. “This isn’t real. It’s not real. It’s not real…”
Athena stepped a fraction closer, her voice firm but steady. “Look at me, Buck. Look at us. We’re right here.”
But Buck’s eyes were glassy, unfocused, as if he was seeing something else entirely. His breaths came faster, his movements more erratic, the edges of panic closing in as his mind tried desperately to reject their words.
His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps. His hands clawed at his hair, tugging lightly as if trying to pull reality from his skull. “No…no…this isn’t real! You’re lying! It’s a dream!” His voice cracked, echoing against the bare walls of the loft.
Maddie stepped cautiously closer, her hands trembling slightly. “Buck…hey, look at me. You’re safe. You’re awake. You’re here.”
He shook his head violently, backing toward the wall, knees almost hitting the cluttered couch behind him.
“Safe? Awake?” he repeated, voice rising, trembling with disbelief. “How can I be awake if he’s not answering me? If Eddie’s gone? If he…if—” His words choked off in a strangled sob.
Athena took a careful step forward, her tone calm, commanding, cutting through the storm. “Buck, stop. Look at me. You need to calm down, you’re working yourself up.”
His vision blurred; sounds from the apartment distorted—Maddie’s gentle pleas, Athena’s steady insistence, even the distant hum of traffic outside—all merging into a chaotic roar inside his head. He sank to his knees, clutching at his head. “I—I can’t…I can’t fix it…I can’t make it right…I can’t—”
Tremors ran through his body as he curled inward, the apartment spinning around him. Maddie crouched beside him, hands hovering, unsure where to touch without making it worse, feeling the raw, unfiltered panic radiating from him.
Athena knelt on the other side, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "We’re here. Breathe with me. Focus on me. In…and out…”
He tried, fists clenched, lips quivering. Each breath was jagged, each exhale barely a whisper. The panic clawed at him, a relentless predator, tearing apart his sense of reality, collapsing the line between the dream he insisted he was still in and the life that was undeniably real.
“Breathe. In…and out…in…and out…” Athena repeated, voice low and grounding. Maddie echoed it softly, her warmth a tether against the spiraling fear.
Slowly, the violent shakes subsided into trembling. Buck stayed curled on the floor, hands pressed to his chest as if trying to hold his own heartbeat in place. Tears streaked his face, streaks mingling with the sweat of panic. He whispered, hoarse, “It…it feels real. But it doesn’t… it shouldn’t…”
Maddie brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “It is real, Buck. And I so wish it wasn’t, but it is. But I’m here now. I’m sorry I wasn’t before.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his weight onto her, taking in any comfort she offered. He felt like a little kid again, small and fragile in a world that suddenly felt too big. When he didn’t even have his parents to hold his hand through it, it had always been Maddie. And here she was now—Maddie, who had always held him, even when life tried to pull them apart.
Her arms tightened around him, one hand moving up to cradle the back of his head the way she used to when they were kids. “Shh, I’ve got you,” she murmured, rocking him slightly without even realizing it. “You’re safe. You’re not alone.”
He let out a shaky breath that turned into a quiet, broken sob, clinging to her as though she were the only anchor keeping him from slipping away completely. “I don’t know how to…how to continue like this,” he whispered, voice muffled against her shoulder.
“You don’t have to know right now,” Maddie murmured, her own voice thick with emotion, trembling slightly. “You just have to breathe. One breath at a time. I’m right here. Let us help you.”
Buck inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, holding the breath as though it could keep him tethered. Then, with a shuddering exhale, he let out a small, desperate plea: “Help.” Another sob escaped him, louder this time, breaking through the barrier he’d tried so hard to maintain.
Almost instantly, he felt the warmth and steadiness of two sets of arms wrap around him. Maddie pressed him closer, her hands gentle on his back, while Athena’s strong presence settled around him from the other side, grounding him.
“You're okay, Buck,” Athena murmured.
The weight of his panic began to ebb slightly as their steady support held him upright, preventing the spiraling chaos inside his mind from taking over entirely. Maddie rested her forehead against his temple, murmuring softly, “I’ve got you.”
His body shook with residual panic, but their embrace was unyielding, steady, and warm. Each breath he drew in became a little easier, each exhale less ragged. The sobs continued, but the intensity dulled, softened by the grounding force of Maddie and Athena.
Finally, Buck lifted his head just enough to glance at them, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, voice barely above a whisper. “I…I don’t want to feel like I’m losing it,” he admitted, shame and fear lacing his words.
“You’re not losing it,” Maddie assured him, squeezing him gently. “You’re hurting. That’s all. And that’s okay.”
Athena gave a small, firm nod, her hand still resting on his back. “Exactly. One step at a time, Buck. You don’t have to do this alone. We shouldn’t do this alone”.
Buck sagged against the couch, the tremors in his body slowly subsiding, though his mind still raced with fragments of confusion, grief, and lingering panic.
Maddie’s hand stayed on his shoulder. “Feeling better?” she asked softly.
He gave a half-nod, voice barely audible. “I think…maybe.” His eyes flicked to the mess around them, then back to her. “I just…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
“I think you need help, Buck. Real, professional help,” Athena said gently, her voice firm but laced with concern. “What you’ve been going through…the confusion, the panic, the hospital visits—it’s not just stress or grief. You’ve been experiencing full-blown psychosis these past few days. You can’t face this alone.”
She let her words hang in the air, giving him space to absorb them. “It’s not a failure to ask for help, I know Bobby has told you that,” she added softly, reaching for his hand. “It’s the only way to make sure you’re safe, and to start untangling everything your mind’s been wrestling with.”
Buck’s throat tightened. The truth of it pressed in on him, sharp and unyielding. Part of him wanted to argue, to push it away, to insist he could handle it. But deep down, a quieter voice whispered that she was right—and that maybe, finally, he didn’t have to do this alone.
Buck flinched, gripping his knees. “Psychosis,” he muttered, as if saying the word aloud made it real. “That’s…that’s not me. I’m…fine. I just…I was just confused.”
Maddie exchanged a glance with Athena, worry etched across her face. “Buck…you’re not going to fix this on your own,” she said gently. “You need professional help—people who know exactly how to help when reality starts to feel…wrong.”
Athena nodded. “We want you safe. That means you need to be evaluated—maybe even admitted temporarily to an acute psychiatric unit. A short stay. And you’re not alone in this—we’ll be there the whole time. But you need to agree.”
Buck’s throat tightened. The idea of someone taking control, of being in a hospital and not chasing his own obsessions, made his stomach twist. “I…I don’t want to be locked up,” he said quietly, almost pleading.
“It’s not a punishment,” Maddie said gently, cupping his face. “It’s a chance to rest. To get help. To figure out how to ground yourself so this doesn’t happen again.”
Athena’s voice was steady, but carried an undercurrent of care that made it impossible to dismiss. “You’ve been spiraling for days, Buck. We can’t just watch and hope it fixes itself. This is the safest way for you and for everyone who cares about you.”
He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath, trying to absorb her words. Finally, voice shaky but willing, he whispered,
“Okay…I’ll do it. I’ll get help.”
Maddie exhaled, hugging him tightly, and Athena guided him to stand. Surrounded by the wreckage of both his apartment and his mind, Buck took his first tentative steps toward getting help, toward grounding, toward reclaiming reality.