911/911 Lone Star One Shots

Ask For Help

You'd think a day off would be nice, relaxing even. Well, not for Buck. Not this day.

He woke up feeling low. He laid in bed for hours after he awoke, his face in his pillows as he half slept, half got lost in his thoughts.

He was thinking over his behavior that week. He got reprimanded by Bobby for zoning out on a call, argued with Chim over something unimportant, and canceled on plans with Eddie and Christopher because he mentally couldn't bring himself to do anything.

He wasn't sure if he felt depressed because of those incidents or if those incidents occurred because maybe he really was depressed. He'd been trying to ignore it for the past few weeks, but it had been getting ridiculously difficult to simply exist.

It was almost 1:00 in the afternoon when he couldn't ignore his need to pee any longer. He sighed and begrudgingly sat up.

If I make the bed, maybe I won't be tempted to just lay here for the rest of the day. He thought, half heartedly pulling the blankets to the top of the bed before walking to the bathroom.

He did what he needed to do and washed his hands before staring at himself in the mirror. It was official: he looked as bad as he felt.

As he looked at himself, he realized he didn't like the person he saw. He saw a person who zoned out in the middle of calls and ignored direct orders. He saw a person who exploded on Chim and wouldn't let the argument go even hours later. He saw a person who cancelled plans with his best friend and his son. He saw a disappointment. He saw someone who consistently let everyone down. And then the tears started.

I'm fine. I'll take care of myself like I'm supposed to and then I won't be upset anymore. He planned with a deep breath. As he released the breath, a sob escaped instead. And then another.

He couldn't seem to stop. He tore his clothes off and got in the shower, convinced that taking care of himself would make everything better. It had to. He had to be okay.

As he showered, he continued to sob. He sobbed as he dried off, as he brushed his teeth, as he put on his comfiest pair of shorts and his favorite t-shirt. After all that, he still couldn't stop crying.

All the crying was making it hard to breathe and then his thoughts were spiraling and then he really couldn't breathe. As the room started to feel like it was spinning, he fell to his bedroom floor with his back against his bed.

Bobby. He needed to call Bobby. Bobby could fix anything, he could fix him.

He reached for his phone on the nightstand beside him and hesitated momentarily before pressing Bobby's name from his recent call log.

Bobby picked up on the second ring, the duck ringtone reserved only for Buck interrupting lunch with Athena and May. Bobby had assigned the ringtone to Buck after the younger had made duck jokes for an entire shift after rescuing a man with twelve pet ducks.

"Hey Buck." He answered casually, no idea what turmoil the person on the other end was feeling.

Buck gasped for breath, another sob escaping him immediately. "Are you busy?" He whispered, wanting Bobby to help him but not wanting to interrupt his day.

"I'm never too busy for you, kid. What's going on? What's wrong?" He asked with concern deep in his voice. Athena watched with worry, having recognized the ringtone.

"I can't- I can't stop crying and now I-I can't breathe. I did everything I was supposed to and..." he stopped and gasped for air, choking on a sob before trying to continue. "I took care of myself but I'm still not okay! I-I-I can't... I can't fix me!"

"Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me, Buck. You're okay. Slow down. Take a deep breath." He tried to coach him over the phone.

"I can't. I can't do it. I can't breathe, Bobby." He gasped, the anguished sound tearing at Bobby's heart.

"Yes, you can. You've got to try, nice and slow." He took a deep breath, knowing Buck could hear his breathing through the phone. He listened as Buck took a shaky breath, which reduced to another sob.

"Hey, tell me five things you see right now. Name them, come on." He stood from the table, gesturing that he had to go.

By the time Bobby got in his truck, Buck still hadn't spoke, his desperate gasps for breath the only noise over the line. Then finally. "I- Bobby, I can't feel my hands."

"That's because you're not getting enough oxygen. We need to get your breathing back to normal to fix that." Bobby explained gently, knowing Buck already knew that. "I'm coming to you right now, okay? I want to hear five things you see."

"Uh, my-my shoes. TV. Water bottle. Phone. Uh, is that-is it enough?"

"Almost, buddy. One more?"

"Stairs."

"Good job. You're doing really good. Now, tell me four things you feel." He continued to use the grounding method as he sped to his apartment, able to hear him calming down just a bit. Not as much as he would've liked but progress was progress.

He used his key to unlock Buck's door and followed the sound of crying upstairs. He knelt in front of Buck and pulled him into his arms, holding his head against his shoulder as he cried.

"It's okay, Buck. I've got you. You're okay." He tried to comfort him as Buck just couldn't stop crying.

Bobby didn't care how long it took. He'd help his kid. So, for nearly twenty minutes, he held him in his arms and rubbed his back and repeated assurances.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm sorry." Buck whimpered, pulling away and leaning back against the bed. He pulled his shirt up and roughly wiped the wetness from his face.

"Don't ever apologize for this again. I'm glad you called me; I want to help you. But Buck, what am I helping you with? You need to talk to me, tell me what's going on." Bobby remained level-headed, still sitting in front of him.

"I just, I started crying and couldn't stop. I took a shower, I brushed my teeth, I got dressed. I took care of myself like I'm supposed to but I couldn't fix myself." He sniffled before a soft sob escaped again. "I can't fix myself lately, and Bobby, I'm scared."

"Okay. What can't you fix about yourself?" His head turned curiously.

"I keep letting everyone down and making people mad." He sniffled. "I think... I might be depressed. No matter what I do, I can't shake myself out of it. And if I can't get back to normal soon, I'll drive everyone away and be alone again and I can't be alone again. I-I can't do it again, Bobby. I'll..."

"Buck, nobody is going to leave you because you're struggling with depression. I promise. Nobody is mad at you, either." He assured him softly, feeling a pang of emotion in his chest after hearing Buck say he was depressed.

"How do you know for sure?" He whispered, looking up at him with teary red eyes.

"Because your friends are grown adults. If there's a problem, they can address it. If they don't address anything, then it's safe to assume they're not mad."

"But- but this week, when I zoned out on that call..."

"Yeah, and then I reprimanded you for it and we moved forward. There was a problem, I addressed it, and we moved on. I am not mad at you." He gave him a smile.

"But Chim, when we argued over takeout and I didn't let it go."

"Are you still mad at him?"

Buck shook his head. "N-no of course not. It was a stupid argument."

"You think maybe Chim feels that way, too? Or you think he's the type to hold grudges over not ordering from his favorite restaurant?" Bobby challenged, Buck lowering his head to look at the floor.

"...no, probably not. But I canceled on Eddie and Chris and-"

"Buck." Bobby lifted his head to get him to look at him. "Nobody is mad at you."

"I keep letting everyone down and upsetting people and I feel like I'm not even in control of myself anymore. I don't know what to do." Another tear fell down his cheek.

"Exactly what you did today: ask for help."