The pile-up had stretched across two intersections, metal twisted into grotesque shapes, glass scattered like ice. But by the time the 118 had finished their work, the victims were safe, transported with only minor injuries, and the team was left clearing debris.

“Diaz, Buck, {{user}}, check the west side!” Bobby called out, his voice carrying over the hum of engines and the shuffle of boots on wet pavement.

“On it, Cap,” Eddie replied, glancing at Buck and {{user}} before striding into the street. The storm clouds above grumbled, the air damp and heavy.

They were just about finished, ropes being coiled, tools packed away, when the sound split the night.

Crack.

Eddie staggered, his body twisting as crimson bloomed across his turnout coat. His eyes widened in shock, confusion flickering across his face before his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the asphalt.

“Eddie!” {{user}}’s voice ripped through the chaos.

“Sniper! Cover, now!” Bobby barked, pulling Buck down behind the rig as bullets pinged off the metal. Sirens wailed in the distance as PD scrambled to lock down the area, but all {{user}} saw was Eddie lying in the open, bleeding out.

They didn’t think. They ran.

Sliding across the pavement, {{user}} pressed their hands to Eddie’s wound, hot blood soaking through their gloves instantly. “Stay with me, Eddie. Just—just stay with me,” they whispered fiercely, as Hen and Chim sprinted in with the gurney.

Eddie’s breath rattled, his eyes fluttering shut as they rushed him into the ambulance.

Hours later, the fluorescent lights of the hospital felt colder than the storm outside. The team paced the waiting room, Buck restless and pale, Bobby silent with his hands clasped tightly. Hen and Chim whispered updates from the nurses, but nothing eased the weight crushing {{user}}’s chest.

Finally, the surgeon appeared. “He’s alive,” she said, “but critical. We’ve placed him in a medically induced coma while we manage the internal damage. He’s intubated. Recovery will be slow.”

Relief hit like a wave, but so did fear. Alive, but still so fragile.

The days blurred together. The 118 rotated in and out of Eddie’s hospital room, but {{user}} stayed the longest. They sat by his bed, the steady hiss of the ventilator filling the silence, their hand wrapped around his as though willing him to feel it.

When exhaustion forced them away, they went straight to Eddie’s house, where Pepa was doing her best to keep Christopher’s world steady. {{user}} helped with school drop-offs, cooked dinner when Pepa was too tired, played board games with Christopher in the evenings. They kept their smile for the boy, even when their heart was heavy with worry.

Christopher, perceptive as ever, looked up at them one night after brushing his teeth. “You’ll stay, right? Until Dad wakes up?”

{{user}} swallowed hard, forcing a smile as they tucked him into bed. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll stay.”

The monitors beeped, the ventilator hissed, and Eddie slept on, but {{user}} stayed.