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Buck groans, having been woken up by the aggressive, almost panicked, knocking at his front door. Throwing on a pair of shorts and an LAFD t-shirt, he trots down the stairs, the knocking having continued the entire time he got dressed.
“Alright, I’m coming!” He grumbles. “I’m coming.” He swings the door open and meets Taylor’s frightened eyes mid-yawn.
“Uh… Hi,” he says numbly.
“I’m having an abortion.”
Buck freezes for a beat. Then another. He squints and rubs his eyes sleepily. “Come in.” She does, dropping her purse on the counter, and begins pacing.
“Uh,” Buck bites back another yawn. “I know it’s not me given the timeline, but do I dare ask who the fath-“
“No. No no no no no,” Taylor cuts him off. “There is no father; there is no mother. This is NOT a baby. There is a clump of cells that’s been growing inside of me like a tumor, that’s on its way out.”
Buck blinks. “Got it. Okay… do I dare ask who the uh… creator is?”
“No one important.”
The two stand in silence for a moment, awkwardness permeating throughout the loft.
“Look, I’m not here to uh, rekindle anything,” Taylor sighs. “I just…” She purses her lips, biting back tears. “I realized I don’t have many friends at the moment…” Her voice breaks, stunning both of them. “But right now I could really use one.” She inhales shakily as the first of many tears fall without her permission.
“Of course,” Buck says softly, shaking his head once before enveloping her in his arms. “I will always be your friend, Taylor.” He emphasizes his point with a squeeze of her shoulders.
Taylor allows herself a moment, just one moment, of vulnerability as she burrows into Buck’s chest, his familiar scent washing over her and providing a sense of what he always truly was for her — safety.
Moment over, she decides, her walls rising once more. She abruptly pulls away, wiping her tears, and huffs a laugh. “Good. It’s good to have friends.” She smiles wetly, then strolls into the kitchen like it’s her own; pulls a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with tap. “Besides I don’t think it’d be appropriate to hook up with another man’s seed in me anyway.”
Buck snorts at the remark that is just so unequivocally Taylor. “How considerate of you.”
Taylor laughs, taking a sip of water as she leans against the counter. Then Buck adds, “I’m also… spoken for at the moment anyway.”
“Really?” She replies, intrigued.
“Mhm,” Buck nods, careful. “It’s new… but I uh- I want to see where it goes.”
“Huh,” Taylor says simply, processing. “Let me guess… You uh- rescued her from a burning building?” Buck huffs a laugh, dropping his head bashfully, and Taylor continues. “Nothing as cool as a helicopter crash, I’m sure.”
“Uh actually…” Buck rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “It’s uh- it’s funny you mention that.”
”No way.”
“Well,” Buck shrugs. “He flies helicopters for a living, so…”
“Ugh, he’s a pilot? That’s hot.” She says with a chuckle. Buck smiles to himself, his mind replaying a conversation he’d had with Tommy just a few days prior.
“Sometimes you don’t even have to come out,” Tommy had smiled in the way that liquified Buck’s brain, all shiny eyes and softness. “With some people, you’ll be able to just say, ‘hey, I’m seeing so-and-so now,’ and they’re like ‘okay cool,’ and that’s it. Those are the best ‘coming outs’ in my opinion, where it’s literally just… a normal conversation. No stakes or worries.”
Taylor smiles at Buck, as if sensing where his mind had gone. She raises the glass to her lips again, then-
The glass drops to the floor and shatters, but the sound is silent in comparison to Taylor’s pained wail. Buck is at her side in seconds, hands hovering, unsure of where exactly the pain is or what he needs to do.
“Hey, hey,” Buck hushes softly, opting to place one hand gently on her shoulder and the other in front of her, which she promptly squeezes like a lifeline. “I got you. What is it?”
“What do you mean, what is it?” Taylor bites out, eyes fiery. “I’m having an abortion.”
Oh fuck, it clicks in Buck’s brain.
“Oh my god!” Buck squawks indignantly. “I didn’t realize you meant right fucking now. I- I thought you needed me to drive you to a clinic or something.”
“No!” Taylor cries out. “There are so many risks with surgical and there were minimal side effects for the pill.” She laughs humorlessly. “At least there were supposed to be!” She groans in pain, then exhales shakily. “I took the first pill last night and the second one this morning.”
“Okay, okay,” Buck mutters. “We’re gonna go to the couch, okay? I don’t think you can do stairs right now.” The comment earns him a wide-eyed glare. “Yeah, okay. I figured. Let’s move to the couch slowly, okay? I got you.”
It takes longer than Taylor would ever admit, but the two eventually make it to the couch, stress sweat beginning to soak both of their shirts.
”I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you.” With a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, Buck runs off. He barrels through his apartment in search of items from the mental list he’d made moments prior: heating pad, ibuprofen, water, and juice.
Taylor realizes with a start that she must have lost time, because Buck is back in what feels like under ten seconds.
“Where does it hurt the most?” Buck asks, holding up the heating pad. “Front or back?”
“Front,” Taylor bites out, and Buck thanks whatever higher power that he doesn’t have to risk making her pain worse trying to maneuver the heating pad under her. He makes quick work of plugging it in and placing it gently on her lower abdomen, and shoots her a strained smile before she reaches for it and readjusts it anyway.
He sits heavily on the coffee table across from Taylor. “Do you know if you’re allowed to take anything over the counter for the pain?” Taylor winces, and shrugs.
“Okay, do you still have the package it came in?” Taylor nods, but stops to ride out another sudden wave of pain, a heartbreaking whine leaving her lips. “Purse,” she coughs out.
Buck heads to the doorway where her purse had been haphazardly tossed on the counter earlier. He rifles through it quickly, trying his best to not mess everything up, but also really not caring about that at the current moment. He finds a small white box— with a fucking dozen-page thesis folded up into a neat square— taped to the outside of it. He snatches the box & plops back onto the coffee table, unfolding the giant piece of paper with the world’s tiniest fucking font and scans until he finds the side effects section.
COMMON SIDE EFFECTS OF MEDICAL ABORTION USING MIFEPRISTONE AND MISOPROSTOL:
- Heavy abdominal cramping and heavy bleeding on the day Misoprostol is taken
- Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, or other gastrointestinal upset
- Slight fever
- Back pain
- Dizziness or vertigo
- Headache
- Anxiety or panic
The following complications are rare, but can be life-threatening. Call your doctor or visit your local emergency room if you experience any of the following:
- a fever lasting longer than 24 hours after taking Misoprostol
- heavy bleeding for more than 2 hours straight
- passing large blood clots (larger than a lemon) for more than 2 hours straight
- weakness, nausea, vomiting, and/or diarrhea lasting longer than 24 hours after taking Misoprostol
Buck can’t help but wonder what the fuck the surgical route is like if it has even more risk than this.
Another pained sob cuts through his thoughts, and he tries to read even faster to find the answer he’s looking for.
“Okay, it looks like you can take ibuprofen,” Buck states, shaking the bottle to get the pills into his hand. “I’m going to give you four of them. It’s-“
His train of thought is halted briefly by Taylor ripping the pills from his hand and dry swallowing them before he can even hand her the water bottle.
“-equivalent to a prescription dose…” He finishes, sighing and gently running a hand over her sweat-soaked hair.
“What can I do?”
Taylor groans, squeezing her eyes shut briefly and choking out a cry. “Nothing. This- this is more than enough, Buck. Thank you.”
“Okay,” he smiles sadly at her, taking one of her hands and squeezing gently.
“Actually-“ she says breathlessly.
Buck rises, practically jumping out of his skin. “Yeah, what is it? What do you need?”
“Distraction,” Taylor whines, gritting her teeth. “Tell me about the pilot.”
Buck exhales sharply, surprised, but nods and sits back down. “Okay.”
And he tells her, with many suffering sounds in between, he tells her. He tells her about Bobby and Athena’s missing cruise ship, about Tommy flying them into a hurricane no questions asked, about Eddie and Tommy’s budding friendship, about his own jealousy, about the basketball game with the homoerotic tension and a popped ankle, about Tommy coming to Buck’s loft to clear the air, about Buck and Tommy flirting, about Buck not realizing it was flirting at first, about Tommy kissing Buck in a way that made him understand patriotism, about Tommy’s confidence, and Tommy’s cleft, and Tommy’s—
Buck stops himself suddenly, having begun whispering at some point as the wounded noises Taylor was making began to decrease in frequency as her body calmed down. He looked down at her to see she was in fact still awake and listening, but her face and body had finally relaxed a little.
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “I didn’t mean to-“
“No, no,” Taylor says softly, lifting her hand up for him to take it. “I like seeing you happy. You’re literally fangirling over him.”
Buck balks at that. “I am not!”
“Oh, yeah you totally are,” she laughs, then regrets it when she feels like she’s been stabbed in the uterus again.
Buck makes a sympathetic noise and rubs his thumb softly along her hand. He sighs. “I’m-“
Taylor sits up suddenly, back ramrod straight. “Oh, no.”
Buck’s eyes widen. “What? What?”
“Oh, no,” Taylor simply repeats before bolting to the bathroom, Buck following on her heels only to have the door slammed in his face.
“Taylor?” He calls through the door, ear pressed against it. He winces when he hears her groaning in pain again.
When she’s been silent for more than a moment, he knocks. “Do you want some tea, maybe?”
“No,” she mumbles. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep it down.”
“What?”
“I said I don’t think- just come in, please.”
“Uh, it sounded like you’re on the toilet,” he replies slowly.
She groans, this time from pure annoyance. “You have seen me naked on multiple occasions.”
“Fair point.” Buck shrugs and obliges, peeking around the door before opening it fully and entering the room.
Taylor is, as suspected, sitting on the toilet, sweatpants and period underwear bunched around her ankles, her elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She looks absolutely miserable.
Buck tuts and sits down on the cold tile across from her, leaning his back against the wall.
Before either can say anything, another cramp punches its way through Taylor’s body and she leans forward with her hands on her abdomen, as if simply having her hands there will rid the pain somehow. The splashing sounds of large blood clots and clumps of tissue hitting the toilet water just adds to the discomfort in the room.
Taylor wails again, stabbing pain flooding her entire pelvis. “I fucking hate this.” She exhales sharply and wipes her eyes with her sleeve.
“I’m so sorry,” Buck replies softly, hand on her knee, grounding her. “I wish I could make this better.”
Taylor grimaces. “You are.” She sighs heavily. “Genuinely.”
Buck nods silently, and reaches up to start gently rubbing at the back of Taylor’s neck. The groan she lets out sounds more relieved than hurt, prompting him to continue.
More agonizing cries, more morbid splashes. Suddenly, Taylor grabs a wad of toilet paper, wipes, and stands on wobbly legs, pulling her underwear and pants back up as she rises.
Buck quickly grasps her upper arm to steady her. “You okay?”
Taylor inhales deeply and releases a shaky exhale. “I think so.” She sniffles, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
She looks into the toilet and… then stops, chuckling softly at herself. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
Buck nods. “Depending on the timeline of this, it still probably wouldn’t be much bigger than a grape.”
Taylor lets out a full cackle at that. Yeah, definitely not going to see anything noteworthy then. She puts the toilet lid down, flushes, and moves to wash her hands.
Only as soon as the water hits her hands, she falls apart. Harsh sobs wrack her entire body as she collapses to the floor, but Buck catches her and quickly cuts the water off. He allows her to lean her full weight onto him as he guides her to sit on the closed toilet as he kneels in front of her. He gently pulls her into a hug and rubs his hands up and down her back, murmuring mindless reassurances as she releases all of the pent up emotion from the whole ordeal.
After some time, Taylor’s hiccuping sobs dwindle down and become shaky sniffles. She pulls out of Buck’s embrace, leaving one of her hands on his shoulder.
“That was an event.” She chuckles.
Buck smiles up at her sadly. “Glad I had front row seats.”
Taylor snorts. “Are you? I am literally disgusting right now. I-“ She cuts herself off with a sharp laugh. “I just had an abortion on your couch.”
“Well considering I delivered a baby on my last couch, maybe my loft has just come full circle.”
Taylor swats him on the arm, but there’s a genuine smile on her face.
“Okay! Okay! I’m kidding,” he laughs. “Seriously, though. I’m glad you came to me rather than suffering through this alone at your place.” Taylor smiles sadly, and nods. Buck pats his legs and stands, groaning when his knees creak.
“Don’t tell me you’re old now,” Taylor smirks.
“Oh, it has not been that long since we last saw each other. Don’t even!” Buck laughs, extending his hand to Taylor like a prince in a Disney movie. Taylor snorts and takes his hand, allowing him to guide her off of the toilet and back to the couch.
“You hungry?”
About to say no, Taylor pauses. “Yes, actually. I didn’t think I would be, but yeah.”
“How about some soup and saltine crackers?” Buck suggests with a slight shrug.
“Yeah,” Taylor sighs happily. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
As Buck heads for the kitchen to get started, Taylor calls over her shoulder. “Bobby’s recipe?”
“Ha. Progresso. Just don’t tell him.”