#glow.ewb

Requests are open for the Eddie Whump Bingo //

Eddie thinks the rope snapped. That's his best guess, anyways, as to how he went from suspended against the side of a cliff to get to a car wreck, to on his back on a narrow ledge some twenty feet below the precariously wobbling minivan. His head fucking hurts, and when he reaches up to feel for a bump, his hand comes away red. Eddie takes stock of the rest of his body as well as he can. It hurts to breathe, so there's probably something going on with his ribs- they may have been broken in the fall. One of his legs is definitely broken, but he can still move his foot, so that's a good sign. There are tears in his uniform where he caught on rocks on the way down, the navy giving way to tanned skin and bright red blood.

He tries to sit up, but is stopped by sharp pain in his abdomen. He doesn't see anything outwardly wrong, so he fumbles to unbutton his uniform shirt, finding part of it slick with blood too. Finally, he gets the shirt open and lifts his undershirt to reveal the slightest bit- maybe a centimeter- of sharp rock poking up through the skin just a few inches to the left of his hip bone. He at least has the presence of mind to realize what that means- something has gone all the way through him. He looks down and sees a growing puddle of blood dripping underneath him, trailing down the side of the ledge.

"Diaz, come in. Are you okay?"

He manages to raise his radio to his lips. "I'm alive, Cap. Don't know how long that's gonna last, though."

When he looks up, he can vaguely see the figures of his team, frozen and staring at him. He knows he must look rough. Between the head injury and the blood seeping out of him, he's getting pretty dizzy in a matter of moments.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's hurt."

Eddie blinks and struggles to make the words come through. "Hit my head pretty hard. Broken leg. Possible broken ribs. And uh- I- I-"

"C'mon, Eddie, talk to me."

"I think I'm impaled on something. Losing blood fast."

His head lolls back against the rock. Holding it up begins to feel like an insurmountable task. Then, the voice on the radio changes. No longer is Bobby talking to him, but a much more welcome voice.

"Eddie, stay awake for me." It's Buck. Buck, who Eddie knows will always come to help him, who takes care of Christopher like his own son, who has to know how Eddie feels before he dies. "Keep your eyes open. Keep talking to me. We're coming, Eddie, we're getting you home safe tonight."

"Buck, I need to tell you something."

Eddie keeps looking up and sees someone descending on a rope with a crib under his arm. It doesn't look like Buck- the shoulders are too narrow, the stature too short. It must be Chimney.

"No- no, Eddie, whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me when you're safe."

"Evan."

His tongue feels too big in his mouth and his chest is tight, like he's not getting enough air. Maybe he isn't. He has to say this, though, because he can't die without these words having passed his lips. For every night he's sat awake thinking it, for every time it's crossed his mind when Buck smiled like he's the sun incarnate, for every moment Eddie almost said it when Buck was reading a bedtime story to Christopher while Eddie watched from the doorway.

"Evan, I need you to- to-"

"Please, don't. Not like this."

Chimney finally lands beside Eddie, barely clinging to the ledge. He lets go of the crib, leaving it to hang on the suspending ropes that snapped on Eddie in the first place, and begins pulling supplies from his backpack. The first thing he does is put a collar around Eddie's neck, and then starts assessing the other injuries.

"Stay with me here, Eddie," Chimney says. "Do you know where you are?"

Answering his questions aren't important. Eddie can feel his consciousness fading away, possibly for the very last time, and there's so much left to do and say.

"Tell Christopher I love him," he mumbles to Chimney.

"Tell him yourself when we get you to the hospital."

Eddie swallows the blood filling his mouth. He doesn't know where it's coming from- if he bit his cheek or tongue, or if it's coming up with every shuddering breath, or if it's a figment of his imagination while he's dying.

"Evan," he says into the radio once more. "Evan, I love you. I love you, please, you have to know that I love you."

"I know, Eddie." It sounds like Buck might be crying. "I love you too. You're going to be okay, I promise. It's going to be alright."

He's still talking, but it turns from discernable words to a dull hum.

Prompts are open for the Eddie Whump Bingo //

Water rescues are no one's favorite, least of all Eddie's; he didn't have much in the way of big bodies of water growing up, and the expanse of the ocean is still beyond terrifying. Nearly losing Buck and Christopher in the tsunami certainly hadn't helped.

He can't help the apprehension when they pull up on the caverns and tidepools where an adventurous tourist got too cocky and wound up trapped beneath a fallen stalactite that was rattled loose by inexperienced hands grabbing unstable formations for help.

"We have to be fast," Bobby says on the way, "because the tide is coming in."

Fast is usually key, but even more so now as Eddie wades through the rapidly rising water. When he stepped into the gave, Buck behind him, it was nipping at his ankles. It's now up to his calves, and it's fucking cold.

"In the winter, the average temperature of the Pacific Ocean near LA is fifty-eight degrees," Buck says when Eddie visibly shivers. "Cold enough for hypothermia."

Or whatever strikes your fancy for the square. 😊

Prompts open for the Eddie Whump Bingo // Join my Content Server ///

Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Eddie knows this. Between sports in high school, high octane missions overseas, street fighting, and the absolute craziness of the LAFD, he's more than familiar with the power of an adrenaline rush and the subsequent consequences of a crash.

"You're shaking, Eddie," Chimney notes as he secures Eddie's harness. "You good?"

"All good, just the adrenaline," he confirms.

He can feel Buck's eyes on him a couple feet away, where Bobby is hooking up his harness as well. Normally one of the two of them will go down, the other working the winch and keeping the tension, but when they need two sets of hands to rescue a window washer from a high rise, the two members of the team with the most rope experience both go down.

"Scared of heights, Diaz?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I'm doing this, aren't I?"

"Fair point."

Then, next thing he knows, they're being lowered down, kicking off the windows and leaving dirty boot prints as they descend to where the poor victim is clinging to the rope suspending half of his washer platform. The other half snapped, prompting the call.

Eddie gets his boots down on the top of the platform and grabs the extra harness dropped down with them to start securing around the washer's body.

"Hey, stay calm, man," Eddie says, tightening the straps. "You're okay, we've got you. Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, just fucking scared."

Buck nods and reaches into Eddie's backpack for the clip on heart monitor. "Completely understandable. You're in good hands, though, and we're gonna get you back home safe and sound."

The platform gives an ominous creak and Eddie looks up to find the second rope fraying under the strain of holding up the whole platform and three people on its own. He clears his throat and points at it when Buck looks over. His eyes widen.

"Okay, I need you to grab onto me," Buck says, pulling the washer close. "Hold on real tight. We've got you in a harness, but you're not trained for this, so just don't let go."

"Yeah, okay. Okay, I won't let go."

Buck goes to speak into the radio and let their team know to pull them up, but then the rope snaps. The platform falls, and left swinging in the breeze, they both wind up smacking into the side of the building pretty hard. Buck takes the brunt of the impact for himself and the washer, hitting his back against the window and wincing, but seeming no worse for wear. Eddie, on the other hand, gets his head smacked directly into the glass, as well as his side. It dazes him for a moment before he catches his bearings and sees Buck watching him.

"All good?"

"All good, let's go up," Eddie replies.

So Buck tells the radio they need up, and slowly the rope starts to shorten, hauling them both up. Buck has the good sense to use the building as leverage, practically walking up the wall even with someone else in his arms, but Eddie finds it hard to do much more than let himself be pulled. Nothing hurts, but he can't quite get his brain to keep working, but the adrenaline keeps his muscles tense and his eyes open.

Before he knows it, they're being hauled back onto the roof, where Hen and Chimney take the patient onto a gurney and Bobby helps Buck and Eddie take off their harnesses to pack up. Eddie starts at the buckles of his own, but his hands don't seem to be cooperating.

"Hey. Eddie, you're shaking."

He looks up from his harness to see Buck once more, meeting his bright blue eyes and trying to find the words to describe what he's feeling. He can't think in the come down of the adrenaline, as the fear catches up to him and the pain begins to seep through the cracks.

"Eddie? Eddie, hey, it's okay."

He finds himself on the ground and doesn't know how he got there, but Buck's hands are on him in reassurance. One cups the back of his head, curled around the nasty bump where he hit it against the building, and the other is at his side, one thumb rubbing soothingly against his ribs.

"Eddie, look at me." It takes a moment, but eventually Eddie does cast his attention to Buck's face. Something about his face, about him, makes Eddie feel safe. It feels like everything will be okay so long as Buck is right there. "Talk to me, Eddie. You're coming down from the adrenaline. You're okay. Are you hurt?"

"I don't know."

Buck nods and presses down on the side of Eddie's head where he hit it, murmuring an apology when Eddie winces. He then untucks Eddie's uniform shirt to check on his side, where a bruise is already blooming.

"Alright, Eddie. Okay. We'll have Hen and Chim look you over. Cap, can you grab his water bottle?"

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If asked, Eddie would be unable to pinpoint the exact moment things went wrong. It all happened so fast. One moment, he was doing pretty well, borderline winning the fight. The next, he was punch-drunk and barely able to stay on his own two feet. Everything is so loud. The crowd roars, cheering his opponent on because no matter how many times he's hit, Eddie doesn't quite fall over or pass out, leaving him unable to be rescued by the end of the fight.

The tipping point, he thinks, is when he's kicked in the chest and his ribs crack under the force of the blow. He cries out hoarsely and finally, finally, collapses to the ground. People cheer. His opponent is lauded as the winner. But Eddie is there, on the ground, unable to get up anymore because his head is spinning and every single part of him hurts so badly he feels like he might be dying.

Somebody tries to lift him back to his feet, but he collapses again almost immediately, unable to stand even with the support. Things get louder, and then nearly silent, making him slowly realize that they've all left because no one wants to be held responsible for this. Eddie blearily looks at his empty, dark surroundings. The tears begin to stream down his face as he crawls toward his truck, the last one left in the lot, and fumbles with swollen and bruised fingers for his phone.

Angry as he is, he knows one person will always answer.

It rings several times before the other end clicks to life. "Eddie?"

"Buck," he gasps. He's never been so relieved to hear someone's voice before. "Buck, please. I- I can't- I-"

"Take a deep breath, Eddie. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

He can't think. He never had the address anyways, he just remembered where Lena told him to drive when he first got involved in this bullshit all those weeks ago. Eddie's head falls against the asphalt and he sobs.

"It hurts, Buck, I can't- I can't breathe. Please, help me. I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, Buck."

The other end of the line rumbles with an engine turning over. "I'm not gonna let you die, I promise. I'm using Find My Friends right now, alright? My GPS says you're fifteen minutes away. I just need you to hold on for fifteen minutes, Eddie."

Eddie looks up at the sky, and the faint smattering of stars. Most of the night sky is washed out by light pollution from the city. Every part of him aches, but his chest is burning and his heart is racing and he can't seem to draw in a real breath and he doesn't know if he's going to survive long enough for Buck to get here, if he ever actually does. Eddie wouldn't blame him if Buck never came.

"Eddie, I need you to keep talking to me. What happened? What's going on?"

"I c-can't breathe!"

"Okay, Eddie. This is really important, so I need you to be brave and listen to me, okay? I need you to tell me if you can't breathe because you're hurt, or if you can't breathe because you're scared."

"I- I don't know, I can't- I can't, Buck, I can't, I can't, I can't-"

He cuts himself off with another heavy sob. He doesn't want to die. Christopher needs him, and he never got to make up with Buck, and there's so many people depending on him.

"Are you coming?" Eddie asks desperately. "Don't lie to me, Buck, are you coming to help me?"

Prompts are open for the Eddie Whump Bingo / Join my Content Server! //

It's been months since the sniper shot Eddie in the middle of the street, covering Buck in his blood and leaving him to die there. He's gone through all the surgeries and doctor's appointments and physical therapy. Three months ago, he was cleared to return to active duty at the firehouse. By all means he should be fine.

And yet, as he's trying to pull his tee shirt back over his head after an end-of-shift shower, the twinge in his shoulder turns to a sharp enough pain that he has to stop and take a deep breath. Eddie tries again a few moments later with no success. Fighting back tears, he takes off the shirt and debates if he should just put his button down uniform shirt back on, because at least he can get his arm into that.

"You okay, Eddie?"

He turns around to see Buck watching him, arms crossed but a worried look still visible on his features.

"Yeah, just... I- it's embarrassing."

Buck takes a seat beside him. "Try me."

"I can't get my shirt on. My shoulder."

With a hum, Buck goes over to his own locker and produces a blue button down, the kind that would fit Buck beautifully, but would fall a little too loose and short on Eddie. Silently, he helps Eddie put his bad arm through one sleeve, and then brings the other half of the shirt around for his other. Then he kneels in front of Eddie, quickly buttoning it up. The sight of him on his knees, so focused, makes Eddie's mouth go dry.

"Button downs are easier when you've got a bum shoulder," Buck explains. "Found that out when I broke my collarbone a few years back."

rise and shine kings we're back with another one of my AUs no one asked for <3 / Prompts open for the Eddie Whump Bingo / Join my Content Server! //

Over the years, Eddie has gotten extremely used to getting injured, and subsequently taking care of those injuries himself because he had no one to watch his six or staunch the blood flow after. It was the nature of the work he did. He wouldn't dream of pulling a civilian into this life, for starters, and he hasn't really met people he trusts enough to work with on a day-in day-out basis.

With Buck, it's different.

Eddie, against his best wishes, has been shot. Again. It's nothing life-threatening, he's pretty sure, it just hurts like a bitch and makes a mess of the backseat of his car. Thank God for leather seats.

"How're you holding up?" Buck asks from the front seat, driving a good twenty miles over the speed limit. "We're about five minutes from the motel."

"Just peachy."

Buck laughs without humor and Eddie watches the speedometer go up a few ticks. He'd chastise him for reckless driving if he wasn't so busy trying to take deep breaths and maintain pressure on the wound on his side. It's just a graze, but if he's not careful he could still lose a lot more blood than he'd like to.

Next thing he knows, they're parked and Buck is hauling him up onto his own two feet, but supporting more of his weight than Eddie is. He's half-carried to their room, bypassing the comfortable looking beds for the bathroom. He understands the necessity of doing this in the tub, but there's part of him that would very much prefer to be atop a comfortable mattress right now.

"Wait here, I'll get the first aid kit."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Not exactly in the position to go anywhere, man."

Luckily, it's less than a minute- Eddie counts- before Buck returns. The first thing he does with the first aid kit is find painkillers, of which he offers two to Eddie. He swallows them dry. They won't kick in fast enough to make this pleasant, however, so when Buck hands him a hand towel, he doesn't complain about folding it up and sticking it between his teeth so he doesn't scream or bite his tongue off.

"This is gonna hurt," Buck warns, about three seconds before he yanks up Eddie's shirt and douses his side in Everclear. Eddie yells into the towel, thankful it's fairly muffled. "Yeah, I know. I know. But it's all done, okay? I'm gonna get to stitching this up."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as Buck threads the needle. He's never liked them. For all the times he's stitched himself or Buck up, or Buck has returned the favor, they still make him squeamish, so he makes sure not to look. That doesn't stop him from feeling every stitch, however. It takes an agonizingly long time to piece together the full five inch wound, but then Buck is smearing antibiotic cream across the wound.

"All done. You did good. It's over. Let me wrap it real quick."

He spits out the towel and works his jaw as Buck tapes a gauze pad over the injury, and feels really tired and cold. It's probably the adrenaline crash mixing with the blood loss. While Eddie catches his breath and debates the merits of just falling asleep here in the bathtub, Buck starts unlacing his boots.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna clean you up and get you into clean clothes."

A warm flush dusts across Eddie's cheeks. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

Prompts open for the Eddie Whump Bingo //

"Eyes open for me, Eddie. That's it."

He struggles to place where he is. Eddie knows he's safe, at least, because there's a familiar cologne tinging the air and something about it makes him feel like he's home. He doesn't remember how he got here, though, and the voice is familiar but not quite within his grasp.

"Deep breaths, Eddie, do you know where you are?"

"No, I- I- I-"

"That's okay. Just keep breathing for me. I'm gonna stitch up this cut on your arm, so stay still. I've given you some painkillers, but you might still feel it, so let me know if it hurts too bad."

He fixes his eyes on the man in front of him. He's beautiful and naggingly familiar, all bright blue eyes and soft dirty blonde hair, a birthmark marring his eyebrow. Eddie knows his name, it's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't think straight.

The man threads surgical grade string through a hooked needle and brings it to a bleeding wound on Eddie's bicep. He pinches the skin together on either side of the cut to begin stitching. Faintly, Eddie can feel it, but between the pain medicine and whatever is going on with his thoughts, all he can do is sit there and let it happen.

"You know better than to hunt by yourself. I told you I'd be here in a couple days. You could've died."

"I'm sorry," Eddie mumbles. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. "I was... I don't..."

"It's okay, baby, you're okay. I'm not mad at you."

Within a couple minutes, the stitches have all been put in and tied off, so the man wraps a bandage around the wound with practiced ease. He presses a kiss over the gauze before reaching across the table to produce a bottle of water and a couple of pills for Eddie.

"These antibiotics should help with the infection, but I don't know how much they'll do. I'll keep an eye on you in case we need to go to a hospital."

Eddie furrows his brow. "I don't- no, I-"

"Only if absolutely necessary, I promise. We'll do everything we can to avoid it."

Then he helps Eddie to the one queen bed in the center of the room, taking off his boots for him and tucking him under the thin motel blanket. A tender kiss meets his cheek.

Eddie doesn't get much sleep. The lights are always on and always bright, he's unsure if he can hear others screaming or if he's imagining it, and they come in to hurt him every so often with no discernable pattern or schedule. He dreads when they walk in with the camera because it means they're going to give him hell. As such, sleep is hard to come by, but what little he does get is filled with replays of everything they've done. He hears the crunching of the bones in his fingers. He feels the screws drilled into the soft flesh of his thighs.

Every time he wakes up is to someone slapping him or pouring ice cold water on his face, yanking him from the panic of the repeated sensations and into the endless pain. It's hard to think about anything else other than that pain when it's actively happening.

"Rise and shine, pretty boy!"

This time is a backhand, the ring cutting a new scratch across his already blood stained cheeks. He hisses in pain and looks up at his tormentor. It's the same woman as usual, the one he can't quite place. She usually looks some degree of smug or excited, but today, she appears downright gleeful as she clutches a tablet.

"Before we get started, I have something very important I'd like you to hear."

She presses play on something on her phone, flooding Eddie's voice with a familiar, usually comforting voice.

"No. No, please."

"Oh my God. The great Buck, begging at our feet. Make sure you zoom in on his face, too."

Eddie strains to see the screen, but she keeps it angled so he has no hope of even catching a fraction of a second of Evan's face.

"I thought you were smarter. I really did."

"No- no, please don't- Eddie! Eddie, help me, please!"

His words start to dissolve into empty vocalizations of pain and fear, every sound as gut wrenching as the last. For the first time in days, Eddie strains at his ropes because nothing in the world could keep him still when Evan sounds like that, when he was calling for Eddie to help him.

"Stop! Please, I'll do anything you want, just stop-"

"Oh, he wants to stop."

"No! Eddie, help! Please, Eddie! Help! Don't let them-"

His voice is cut off by a gunshot. Laughter. Then silence. The woman pockets her phone like she didn't just play a tape of the love of Eddie's life being presumably tortured, definitely murdered, certainly begging for Eddie to save him. This is the worst thing they've done. The physical torture would heal, if he ever got out of here. He will never recover from listening to Evan die.