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Buck hates hospitals.
He hates the lack of routine and private space. People will just barge into his room when he’s asleep, switching on the lights, calling “good morning” in a way too cheerful noise, already wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his elbow at a dizzying speed, while he’s still trying to wake up.
He hates the monotony of it all. The same four walls, the same ceiling, the same window which only shows him a little piece of the outside world.
And he hates being forced to stay in bed all day. He’ll change his position a million times, bored out of his mind, longing for the moment he can finally move and leave this room. Preferable on his own two feet.
“As soon as it’s possible, we can take you outside in a wheelchair,” Bobby says with an understanding smile, sensing Buck’s restlessness. “But for now, you have to rest to heal, okay?”
“Yeah,” Buck sighs, choosing a UNO card from his hand and placing it on the over bed table. He has bad luck today. Only boring number cards, while Bobby seemingly gets one “draw 2” or “draw 4” card after another. Again, he smirks and places a “draw 2”. Buck gives him a look. Bobby shrugs. “It’s the game.”
Buck sighs and pulls two cards from the stack. He’s glad Bobby is here. His presence makes everything seem less bleak.
They play and talk for a few hours which pass faster than the endless ones Buck has to endure lying in bed all by himself waiting for the next visiting hour.
At one point, Buck shifts his weight and grimaces when he feels the ache of his surgical wound.
Bobby raises a brow. “You okay?"
“Yeah. Just the leg. This is taking too long,” he mutters, glaring at his bandaged leg, as if that would do anything to make the broken bones heal faster. “I just want to get back to my life.”
Back to you and the team.
“I know. You will be okay, kid,” Bobby tells him, patting his knee. “A little more patience. And rest. Most importantly rest.”
He stands up. Time is up.
Buck’s throat tightens. “Do, do you really have to leave?” He asks, dread curling around his heart like a cold hand.
Please stay.
“I can’t stay forever, kid. Athena is waiting at home,” Bobby says, reaching for his jacket. “I will be back tomorrow. Maybe with Chimney and Maddie, okay?”
Buck can’t shake off the feeling that something terrible is going to happen. That he’s never going to see Bobby again if he leaves through this door now. He wants to reach out. Wants to pull Bobby back and make him stay.
There’s so much I haven’t told you yet.
What if I will never have the time to tell you? You could be gone tomorrow. You could be locked in a room, separated from me by glass, and you could by dying. You could tell me to leave, tell me that the team will need me. You could leave me forever.
And you won’t know what you mean to me, because I didn’t tell you. Because we don't have enough time.
I didn’t tell you that you’re one of the most important people in my life. That you’re like the father I never had. That you made me feel seen. That you made me feel like I was important and like my struggles meant something. You won’t know that I want you to be proud of me.
You won’t know.
Please.
Don’t leave.
Bobby smiles at him. “Bye, Buck. See you tomorrow. Rest now, okay?”
Don’t leave me.
Buck parts his lips, but no word comes over his lips. He feels dizzy. The room seems to spin around him. He glances at the clock at the wall and his eyes widen in startled surprise. Time is passing way too fast. It’s racing.
Bobby is gone.
And around Buck, the world loses its colours. It’s fading. Just like time.
No.
It happens in fragments. Buck can feel that world where Bobby is still alive, where everything is as it’s supposed to be - slip through his fingers like sand.
No. No, no, no …
I want to stay. Please. I want to stay. I don’t want to let go. Not before I can say all the things I didn’t get to say. Please. Take me back.
He’s blinking through tears, seeing the world in blurry spots of light and shadow. He's lost. Lost in the space between two rooms. And lost in time.
Somewhere, something is beeping and hissing rhythmically.
“Come on, Buck. That’s it. Come back to us.”
A voice, pushing through the fog he's drifting in. Soft and gentle. Familiar.
Maddie?
Maddie. She’s running her fingers through his hair, telling him about how it’s Halloween soon. That Buck would hate to miss it. That he should wake up. Because there’s so much to come back to.
I can’t. I have to go back. It hurts too much. Everything hurts. I don’t know how to deal with it.
Buck can already feel it. Can feel the cold touch of grief, curling around his heart. It’s going to carry him away. He’s going to be like a boat again, floating on the waves of pain and sadness, lost and pushed around by things he can’t control.
I can’t do this again.
Someone is holding his hand, squeezing gently. And there’s a weight on his chest, a second heartbeat. The quiet giggles of a … baby.
“Daddy. Is Uncle Buck finally waking up? I miss him.”
Jee …
“He’s almost there, I can see it. The nurse said he briefly opened his eyes in the morning already. Once or twice.”
Chimney …
Family. His family is there.
Buck takes a last longing look back. But this is the past, right? He can’t get that back. It’s gone forever. Bobby is gone forever.
His family isn’t, though. It’s there, surrounding him, waiting for him. He has to get back to them. Bobby would want him to. Buck sighs and turns away, away from that room in the past. For good.
I’m sorry. I hope you somehow knew. I hope I can make you proud.
He steels himself. This is going to hurt. But he won’t be alone.
Buck opens his eyes and lets go.