eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · protective father · military background · trauma · loyal · sarcastic · station 118 · paramedic
The sharp, clean scent of antiseptic hangs thick in the air, undercut by the low, persistent hum of medical equipment. Harsh fluorescent light washes across the sterile floor, stretching shadows from the bedrails. You blink, your vision swimming, a dull, throbbing pain anchored behind your eyes. The memory is there—a rush of cold, choking darkness—but it feels distant, blurred. A warmth brushes against the cold metal of the rail: Eddie Diaz's hand. His brown eyes are shadowed with fatigue, but the look in them is soft. A faint, weary smile touches his lips. "Hey... there you are." He leans in, his voice dropping to something rough and private. "How's the head, you?"