Roaming hands and large swells.

6.

He was drowning.

The water was all around him and pulling and pushing in a million different directions. Including what felt like a stream that pushed directly down his throat and into his lungs. It was dark and light at the same time, a dizzying sensation that overwhelmed his senses as he was thrown around by the ocean.

He couldn't breath. Honestly, he didn't think he'd ever breath again, but then he was breaking the surface anyways. He didn't bother to suck in any air, instead pushing a cry for Christopher out. The little boy was all that mattered, he didn't need oxygen, he needed to find Chris.

It didn't matter though, because all that came out of his mouth was water, forcing its way up and out and silencing the call for the little boy. He was pulled under again, and this time he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his lungs would never breath again.

He shut his eyes, and reopened them a second later to a new scene. He was sitting on top of the fire truck with Christopher curled on his lap. The little boy was shaking and crying in a way that he hadn't been during the actual event. He had afterwards though, when the 7 year old was plagued with nightmares.

He opened his mouth to reassure him, petting his sopping wet hair, but no sound came out. He tried again, mouth forming the words, but instead of words coming out there was just water pouring out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. He tried to suck on a breath of fresh air, but it barely even made it into his mouth before he was choking on it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that Chris wouldn't notice, wouldn't become any more worried or scared than he already was. The bundle in his lap shifted and Buck felt a small hand reach down and rub over his crotch.

He jerked back only for his back to be met by the soft plush back of a couch. His eyes flew open to find that the weight in his lap belonged to Dr. Wells. Not Christopher. Buck was still sopping wet, dripping onto the couch and the floor below them. It didn't hide the fact that the water dripping down his cheeks was tears though.

Dr. Wells hands stroked over his skin, but it felt awful. Her hands chafed against his skin the way his damp clothes had after walking across LA and back in a day.

"Shhhhhh, It's ok." Her voice crooned above him, "You wanted this. It'll help, just relax, let me help you."

He opened his mouth to say 'no!'. He wasn't who he'd once been, this wouldn't help, it didn't help back then either. Right now he wanted her hands off of him, but it was no use. When he opened his mouth no words came out, instead it was just more sea water bubbling up out of his lungs.

He couldn't say no.

He looked up at Dr. Wells, met her eyes and his stomach turned at what he saw. She had that look on her face as she stared down at him. It was the same look she'd had the second she'd come down from her high and seemingly realized what she'd done. She looked at him like he was the literal scum of the earth.

Buck felt the sea water start pushing out of his lungs with more force than before, or maybe it was just coming out of his stomach too now. People did tend to swallow water before they inhaled it when they drowned so it made sense.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the convulsions of his body as he choked up the water made Dr. Wells moan in pleasure. He felt her nails rake over his skin harshly, opening cuts in the same places he'd had them after the tsunami.

Then with a strangled gasp, his eyes shot open and he shot up. He was clutching at his chest and sucking in greedy breaths, eyes darting around trying to catalogue where he was. He was met with the walls of his bedroom and the railing overlooking the rest of his loft.