Evan Buckley looked terrible. There was no nicer way to put it. At work, he blamed it on exhaustion. Too many shifts. Not enough sleep. Stress. People accepted that explanation, at first. But exhaustion didn’t usually come with shaking hands. Or the cold sweats soaking through his shirt.

The kidnapping had left marks people couldn’t see. Physical pain he couldn’t seem to outrun. Emotional pain he didn’t know how to name. The meds had made all of it quieter. Until they didn’t.

Then came desperation. He’d sat in a doctor’s office days earlier trying to sound casual while asking for another prescription. The doctor typed something into the system, paused, and slowly looked up. “You’ve already requested medication from three separate practices.”

Buck’s stomach dropped.

The doctor’s expression hardened with concern rather than judgment. “I’m flagging your file. And I strongly suggest you get help before this gets worse.”

Buck had walked out angry. Mostly at himself. Then withdrawal hit harder. By the time he dragged himself into the station that morning, he looked like a ghost of himself.

Eddie Diaz had been organizing the ambulance inventory before a call interrupted him. In the rush, he forgot to lock the medication compartment.

Buck noticed immediately. And he stood alone in the back of the ambulance, staring at the unlocked compartment. Medication. Close enough to touch. His breathing turned uneven. No one was around. No one would know.

His hand twitched forward… then the station alarm blared. The shrill sound snapped through him like ice water. And just like that, the moment was gone. But the shame stayed.

Hours later, Buck sat on his couch in complete darkness. His apartment was silent except for the ticking clock on the wall and his uneven breathing. He stared blankly at nothing. He had almost stolen medication from his own team. From people who trusted him. People who called him family.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “How did it get this bad…” he whispered.

He thought he’d been hiding it. Thought no one noticed. Bobby would have noticed… but he was gone. Then, a knock at the door. Buck froze. Another knock.

Slowly, he stood and moved toward the window, pulling the curtain back just enough to look outside. And his stomach dropped.

{{user}} stood on the other side of the door. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. They were one of the more serious members of the 118, rarely joked, rarely offered comfort, and definitely not known for surprise social visits.

Buck hesitated and walked to the door… then opened it.