Eddie doesn't turn the light on when he slips into the bunk room. Releases a sigh of relief when it muffles the sounds of everyone else in the station.
He makes his way through the semi-darkness towards the bed he normally takes, one at the back, against the wall, one that allows him to see the rest of the room and keep his back safe. He crawls into it, tugging the blankets over his head and curls up to make himself as small as possible.
Even though he'd showered and scrubbed the blood from his hands, his skin still feels sticky with it. It doesn't matter if he closes his eyes or keeps them open, he can still see the mangled form of the small body that they'd extracted from the back of the crushed vehicle. Covering his ears does nothing to silence the anguished screams of the father that realized he'd lost his young daughter in an accident that he played no fault in.
Hen had had to sedate the man to get him to stop moving as he was making his own injuries worse. But Eddie knew the man cared not for his body, for the blood seeping from his own body, not when his heart had stopped beating in the body of his child.
Eddie's chest is tight. His eyes burn. But he bites hard enough on his cheek to taste blood, willing himself to not break. He'd itched to call Chris, to hear the voice of his own child, but he didn't want to scare the teenager. Not when they're finally in a good place.
Instead, Eddie had slipped away from the others, decompressing together after that rough call, and hidden away in this bed.
He isn't surprised when the door snicks open a minute later, closing just as quietly. Soft footsteps make their way towards him before coming to a stop in front of the bed he's curled up in.
A light tap comes to his hip and Eddie unfurls himself so that the other body can squeeze in alongside him. An arm curls around his waist, pulling him back into a firm chest. A warm breath settles across the nape of his neck.
Eddie focuses on the rise and fall of the chest against his back, matching his breathing to it until his chest feels less tight. He wraps his fingers around the wrist draped over him, resting his fingers against the pulse point, feeling the steady thump thump thump there.
"I told Chris we'd call him in half an hour." Buck murmurs into Eddie's ear some time later. Eddie lost track in the warmth seeping from Buck's body into his own. "Give you some time to come back to yourself."
Eddie releases a long breath and nods shallowly, enough for Buck to feel it.
"And I'm here, Eddie, okay? You don't have to say anything but know I'm here. I've got you." Buck presses a kiss to the spot under Eddie's ear and the first tears escape down Eddie's cheeks.
Buck is no doubt hurting and struggling too, and Eddie wants to offer him comfort, but he feels flayed apart. Calls where they lose children always does this to him.
So for now, Eddie is going to let Buck hold him, he's going to let himself feel whatever he needs. He's going to get up in a bit and call his son, hear Christopher's voice, allow that to stitch his heart back together.
And then he'll hold tight to Buck and be there for him.
