Eddie having PTSD wasn’t new.

There was the whole breakdown in his bedroom with a baseball bat that he didn’t enjoy talking about, plus how he had snapped back into military attention anytime Gerard had spoken to him. It was something hardwired into his brain at this point, but somehow he still hadn’t let himself feel it.

His quest to joy had been much less joyful than Father Brian had implied. It took a lot of therapy and deep thinking and working through his traumas, which he definitely didn’t appreciate. All that digging had just loosened the traumas that he had so carefully compacted into a tight corner at the back of his mind. Also not appreciated.

But he still hadn’t anticipated the impacts it might have on his job.

It was Halloween. A night Eddie was pretty neutral towards. Not overly fun, especially not as a first responder, but not as bad as other major holidays. He had his stuff slung over his shoulder, walking in step beside you down the street of some suburban neighbourhood towards a medical call.

He wasn’t expecting the explosion. Why would there be an explosion in the middle of LA? But he ducked anyway, grabbing you by the strap of your turnout and pulling you towards the ground with all his strength.

Stay down. Stay down, let it pass. He could taste blood and sand, there was gunshots going off somewhere in front of him-