So given that David and Michael got engaged during Defend In Place and had to then be written off the show mid-season, I am fairly confident that the 5x18 wedding was originally meant to be theirs. The fact that the 911 writers decided they needed a wedding anyway means that much of the season’s emotional payoff is tied to getting the 118 together at a wedding.
There are a lot of ways a wedding - any wedding - might promote storylines for other characters. We already have bts info that Bobby and Athena are going to finally take a honeymoon (and potentially set up the season 6 opening disaster), what better place than a wedding for Chim and Maddie to decide they want to give it another shot, if the BT breakup doesn’t happen in 5x17 then a wedding could be exactly what Buck needs to realize he DOESN’T want a future with Taylor, etc.
HenRen does not have any narrative urgency for a recommitment - their relationship has been strong and steady all season. There are other couples on the show who could conceivably gotten married. They could have reworked the Madney timeline so that a finale wedding made sense (admittedly, I am glad they didn’t chose this because they are doing such an awesome job of putting time and care into how Madney’s story is being told). They could have done a Toni and Clive wedding, because the 118 is tightknit and codependent enough that Hen inviting all her coworkers to her mother’s wedding would make sense for them (and it WOULD have fit season-long themes around renewal and choosing to move forward joyfully rather than getting stuck trying to make up for lost time.)
So the fact that they chose a HenRen recommitment suggests to me that a *queer* wedding specifically was necessary to wrap up this season’s storylines.
The fact that the wedding is not necessary (or originally planned for) for Hen and Karen’s storyline means that the wedding *is* necessary as a backdrop for another storyline.
The implications of the fact that the finale apparently *hinges* on a celebration of queer love has me going absolutely bonkers about Eddie’s arc this season genuinely becoming a coming out story.
Eddie is the only one of the core 5 at the 118 who DOESN’T have a relationship to reflect on at this wedding. Which means it’s likely that he’ll be thinking more about his relationship to himself - a continuation of his season-long journey that has included rejection of a heteronormative “ready made family”, a literal heart doctor telling him that he’s repressed, and going back to his family in Texas shortly after his therapist told him to confront his “first trauma”.
What I’m trying to say here is: holy forking shirtballs, we might actually be getting queer Eddie for real in the next 2 episodes.
Summery: after a traumatic event, you suffer from severe anxiety
A/n: please seek help if you can relate to this. Also I just wanted to write something inspired to this quote.
“Are the pills helping?” Your therapist asked you as you sat on the couch opposite of her.
“No, not really.” You honestly told her as you fiddled with your fingers.
“Are you taking them on a regular basis?” She asked.
“Yeah, every evening like you told me to.”
To say that you were tired was a complete lie. You were drained off of every little hormone that would make you feel enthusiastic.
You haven’t gotten a good night sleep in months and going outside made you anxious.
“Well we might have to put you on more meds to control the insomnia and anxiety.” She said as she wrote something down in her book.
“Have you been having nightmares lately?”
“I barely slept but if I did, yes.”
“What were they about?”
You didn’t really want to relive them but you knew that you had to be honest with her.
“About what happened. All of them were the same.”
“How did they make you feel?”
“I just wanted them to stop.” You honestly answered.
“Did you make them stop?”
“No, I always stay awake the rest of the night, but I already told you that.”
“Yeah, yes you did. Okay I’ll write you your new doses down and then we’ll see each other again next week.” She told you.
You knew if she could she would continue talking with you, but sadly your time was up.
You gave her a tired smile as you stood up and collected your things to leave the office.
—–
Dragging your feet up the stairs to your apartment, you could feel the exhaustion creeping up your body.
You went inside and got the water in your bathtub running, wanting to take a long and relaxing bath before maybe watching a movie.
Sinking into the bathtub, you closed your eyes for just a second.
Suddenly you were woken up by a loud crash.
Anxiety began to rise up and filled your stomach with a weird and uncomfortable feeling as you slowly went out of the tub and grabbed a towel. You were scared of your life as tears called down your cheeks.
Slowly you walked out of the bathroom and went into the direction the sound came from.
Your heartbeat fastened as your breaths became faster and faster, without catching much oxygen.
Memories of the worst day of your life flashed through your mind, as if this was a deja vu.
Walking into the living room, you expected the worst.
You expected your life to end for a second time, and for a short second you might would have welcomed it all to end.
Slowly your eyes scanned the room as you noticed some picture frames laying on the floor. You let out a long breath, knowing that they probably got knocked over by the wind blowing in through the open window.
Quickly you closed the window and expected your breathing to go back to normal, but it didn’t.
It became hard for you to take deep breaths as you slid down to the floor and leaned against the couch.
Slowly you tried to control the panic attack, just like you had to do already a thousand times.
A deep breath in, hold it, and then a deep breath out. You repeated the same thing a few times, until you almost had it fully under control again.
But you knew that everything was useless.
All the meds you would have to take, all the meetings and appointments with your therapist, all the self help groups and everything else there to control this anxiety.
You didn’t want to control it, you didn’t want control.
Or—well, maybe he is. But it’s his first shift back, and they had three back-to-back calls, and his hands are shaking as he tries to peel an orange. He’s not out of practice, just—it’s different, being back here, knowing all that he knows now.
The last time he was here, on shift, as a firefighter, he had violently repressed every single thing about him. Now, he cries more easily, he’s queer, and he knows he’s in love with Buck, so…
It’s different.
He’s sitting on the floor behind the island, the rest of the shift wisely giving him some space to decompress. He can hear the vague noises of Chimney and Buck scuffling with the hoses as they roll them up, Hen and Ravi cackling. He knows Bobby’s in his office, filling out some paperwork. And Eddie’s sitting on the floor, unable to peel an orange.
“Um,” he hears, and when he looks up, Lucy Donato’s looking at him with a sheepish expression.
“Oh my god,” he says, and she presses her lips together.
“I am…so sorry,” she says, and there’s laughter in her voice. “I just wanted a cherry coke.”
Eddie lets out a little laugh at that. “You’re totally fine,” he says, gesturing at the refrigerator. “Have at it.”
Lucy steps around him, opening the door and poking her head in. She emerges, cherry coke in hand, and ginger ale in the other. “Here,” she says, handing him the ginger ale. “Trade you?” She wiggles her fingers, gesturing to the orange, and he tilts his head at her, but hands her the orange anyway. She slides to the floor, sitting across from him, and sets her can down before working at the orange. “I didn’t realize this was such a good hiding spot.”
Eddie belatedly realizes she’s talking to him. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be,” he says, only mildly embarrassed. “I just wanted an orange, and—the couches—”
“Too far away?” she guesses, and he nods, though she’s not looking, all of her focus on the orange. She gets success, peeling the first tiny little piece away, and she fist pumps to herself. It’s—endearing, he thinks. She reminds him a little of Buck. “Your hands were shaking.”
