Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Los Angeles, 2004

Tom did up the last of his new uniform's buttons with a shaky breath. He could do this. It was just his first day as a firefighter. Not even remotely comparable to basic training, active combat situations, watching people die. Watching Trevor die. He quickly shook his head, trying to get the thought out of his system.

He had no right to think about Trevor with how often and hard he'd failed him. He had let Trevor die in Iraq, he had retreated back into the closet pretty much the moment he was back on American soil, he had never gone to New York.

He wasn't happy. It was the last thing, the only thing Trevor had asked of him, and he couldn't even do that.

Tom took a deep breath, trying to will away the tears that had started pooling into his eyes. He was a firefighter now, strong, and tough, and unbreakable. He couldn't show such a blatant display of weakness, not now, on his first day. Not ever, actually. It was time for him to be a man and lock it all up behind his heart where it belonged.

With another shaky sigh, he adjusted his new name tag, and closed his locker. He had to focus, this was a fresh start, a way to redeem himself for all the ways he'd failed in Iraq. He wasn't flying anymore, unfortunately, but that was fine. After his attempt to be a helicopter tour guide here in LA had failed spectacularly (apparently the tourists had thought he was too unapproachable, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean), he first considered going back to the military. He knew what military life was like, had done it before, he could get back into it.

He had let go of that thought pretty fast. He couldn't do it. Not again. He wanted to be home, and do something meaningful here. He'd researched around, scoured online forums, and a lot of veterans who left the service had found new purpose as first responders. Serving your community, high stakes (though not nearly as high as in the army), adrenaline pumping through your veins…Tom had gotten it. He toyed with the idea of joining the police academy at first, of maybe climbing the ladder and becoming a SWAT officer one day, but he'd chosen not to. He wanted to help people, and sure, the police did that, but Tom had seen enough "engaging with the enemy" in Iraq. He wanted to help without having to deal with criminals. The fire department it had been.

The station was already bustling when Tom stepped into the garage. The massive fire engine stood gleaming under the fluorescent lights, the white "118" on its side shining against the red backdrop. He couldn't help but reach out and run his hand across the numbers, a wave of excitement washing over him all the while. Maybe he could redeem himself here. Maybe this could become something resembling a home.

"Gather up, men, our new probie has arrived!"

Tom's head snapped up toward the loft, where he assumed the common area was. He saw a man he assumed to be the captain up there, with gray hair and a thick mustache, both graying already, leaning over the railing. His face was hard, and his steely, almost silver looking eyes seemed to drill right through his forehead, making Tom almost gulp. The captain (?) was soon joined by several other men, of varying sizes and ages, some seemingly even younger than Tom, all of them joining the old man in sizing Tom up.

"Get your ass up here, Kinard. Let me take a proper look at you."

Tom steeled himself, taking a deep breath before making his way up the stairs. He felt the weight of their gazes as he ascended, every step echoing his uncertainty. The men continued to scrutinize him, their expressions ranging from simple curiosity to guarded skepticism. He knew he had to make a good impression, had to prove that he belonged here. No matter the cost.

At the top of the stairs, Tom stood at attention, facing the captain. The older man walked around him slowly, like a lion circling its prey, taking in every detail of Tom's uniform, posture, and demeanor. "Well, at least they actually sent one of the good ones," he said eventually. Something about the way he said 'One of the good ones' set off alarm bells at the back of Tom's head, but he ignored them. It was his first day. He didn't know these people. "I'm Vincent Gerrard, the captain here. You were in the military?"

Tom nodded sharply, meeting Captain Gerrard's gaze with the calmest expression he could muster. "Yes, sir. Served five years in the army. Came home from Iraq last year."

The captain grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "On a psychological discharge. Don't think for a second that crying around a little is gonna get you out of your duties around here. It's pathetic enough that they're letting that fly in the forces these days."

Tom's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain composed. He could feel the eyes of the other firefighters on him, waiting to see how he would react. "Yessir. I understand, sir. I'm here to work, sir."

Captain Gerrard gave a curt nod. "Good. Because we don't have room for dead weight. This isn't the army. We don't have the luxury of time to train you from the ground up. You're expected to pull your weight from day one. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Tom replied firmly, though a part of him bristled at the harshness in Gerrard's tone. He had expected some pushback, but this was more than he had anticipated.

"Good," Captain Gerrard said, turning away from him and making his way toward the back of the area. "Eli, show him around."

Eli stepped forward, a man in his thirties, if Tom had to guess, with a friendly face and an easy smile. "Welcome to Station 118, Probie," he said, extending a hand. Tom shook it firmly, grateful for the warmth in Eli's eyes, as opposed to Captain Gerrard's…whatever that was, Tom honestly wasn't sure what to say about the guy.

"Thanks, Eli. I appreciate it."

Eli nodded and turned on his heel, gesturing toward Tom to make him follow. "Let's get you acquainted with the place. You'll spend a lot of time here, so it's best to get comfortable. This way."

They moved through the common area, a spacious open floor with a comfortable sofa, a large TV, and a kitchen off to one side. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of smoke and rubber. "This is where we relax between calls," Eli explained. "Feel free to make yourself at home, but remember to always be ready. We can get a call at any moment."

Tom nodded, trying to take in everything at once. He felt the weight of his new role settling on his shoulders, the responsibility of being ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. They continued the tour, moving through the bunk room where rows of beds stood ready for tired firefighters to grab a few hours of sleep.

"Your bunk is here," Eli said, pointing to a bed with fresh linens. "You can set up your stuff when you get a chance. We try to keep things tidy. Respect everyone's space, and you'll get along fine."

Next, they headed to the garage, where the fire engine and other equipment were stored. Eli pointed out the various tools, hoses, and gear they'd need in different situations. "Here's where you're gonna do most of your chores. You're the probie, so prepare yourself for a ton of truck washing," he smirked with a wink before pointing out the gym area at the far side of the garage. "That's where you can work out whenever you want. If you wanna stay on Gerrard's good side, try to stay in shape."

The mention of the captain made Tom stop for a second. To say that he had made an impression was an understatement, and sure wasn't a good one. Tom didn't want to jump to conclusions about the guy, clearly if he was as high of rank and as long in the service, Gerrard couldn't be that bad, but still. For the five seconds he'd known the man…well.

"Hey, Eli," he began hesitantly, "what's the captain's deal? What did he mean exactly, I'm 'one of the good ones?'"

Eli paused, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. He leaned in slightly closer to Tom, lowering his voice. "Look, Captain Gerrard's an old hardass. He has a lot of outdated ideas and opinions that he refuses to let go of, and he hasn't exactly been happy with the LAFD trying to diversify its roster the last few years."

Tom nodded slowly, the sinking feeling in his stomach deepening. He had encountered men like Gerrard before—stubborn, set in their ways, and resistant to change. He didn't need any more details to understand what Eli meant. "Got it," he said simply.

Eli gave him a sympathetic smile. "Just keep your head down, do your job, and you'll be fine," he said, placing a hand on Tom's shoulder. "And hey, about that psychological discharge? Don't let Gerrard try and tell you you're weak for being human, okay?"

Tom's breath caught at the back of his throat, his mouth opening and closing a few times. The way thinking about Trevor still had his heart racing and his stomach turning…made him human? The nightmares of Trevor condemning him because he let him die? The dreams of a future they never got to have together? Did…did Eli really mean that?

“It’s not…I’m not…”

"Hey, kid?" Eli cut Tom off, squeezing his shoulder a little harder. Tom looked up into Eli's eyes, only finding compassion and truth there. "I haven't been to war, so I don't fully get what you went through, or why you got so messed up you had to leave early. But I've worked this job long enough to see who knows how many people die, from vics to other firefighters. It doesn't do anyone justice to try and swallow everything down. Not you, and not the people who died."

Tom's eyes widened, his heart rate quickening. Eli's words hit close to home, more than he'd care to admit. He'd spent so long trying to bury his feelings, to lock away the guilt, pain, and memories of Trevor. Because that's what he should do, right? Take all his feelings, put them in a box, lock it, and throw away the key. There was nothing to be gained from obsessing over things you couldn't change, so why think about them in the first place?

But…if what Eli said was right, then…

Tom shook his head. He'd have to think more about this later. He didn't have the time while on the clock.

"Thanks, Eli," Tom said, his voice a bit steadier than before. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

Eli gave him an encouraging nod, patting his shoulder one last time before leading him back up the stairs to the common area. They passed a few other firefighters along the way, all of whom greeted Tom with varying degrees of warmth and curiosity. He could tell it would take time to earn their trust and respect, but he was ready to work for it.

"Alright, Probie," Eli said as they returned to the common area, "let's grab a coffee and I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew. What did you say your name was again?"

Tom opened his mouth to answer, but he stopped. What Eli had said earlier still hadn't really left his head, and while he still didn't think he deserved forgiveness from anyone, Trevor was too important to just…be pushed out like that. He deserved to be remembered, cherished, loved forever. He deserved to be honored.

This is a fresh start.

Trevor should be honored.

"Tommy. I go by Tommy."

*

Los Angeles, 2025

Tommy settled down on the park bench with a sigh and began gently rocking the twins' stroller back and forth. It was way past their naptime, but Emily had decided to channel her Papa today, and had bounced around like a crazy person with so much energy that Evan himself hadn't even been able to keep up. Of course, with Emily not napping, Benji didn't either. While he was usually a lot calmer than Emily, he had recently developed an almost codependent admiration of his sister. Whatever Emily did, wherever she crawled, Benji would follow suit. So, Emily not napping had meant that Benji was also not napping, and Tommy and Evan had almost lost their goddamn minds. But thankfully, Emily and Benji were, in fact, just babies. And the moment Emily's energy had drained, she had fallen into a peaceful slumber, with Benji's eyes falling shut not long after.

The downside to the pups sleeping was that Tommy now had nothing to distract him from thinking. He was meeting his father today. In less than fifteen minutes, George Kinard, who had abandoned him 36 fucking years ago, would sit down next to him so they could talk it all out. The issue only was that Tommy had no clue what to even talk about. Hey, pops, you abandoned me when I was eight, not cool wasn't exactly something that needed to be said—though Tommy absolutely would if George somehow tried to justify it—and neither was So did you know Mom would beat the ish out of me for the next ten years, or…?

With a groan, Tommy let go of the stroller and buried his face in his hands. It had been only a week since George had shown up at his and Evan's door as if it was the most normal fucking thing in the world. A week since Tommy's world as he knew it had tilted on its axis in the worst possible way.

He was used to life without his father around. Living without his father had been easy, once the initial pain had gone away. It wasn't the first time he'd seen someone leave. That had been his best friend Lauren moving away in the summer after first grade, and Grandpa Ernest had passed away only half a year later. People suddenly being gone, leaving him behind was something Tommy had learned to cope with from an early age. It sucked, but that was life. Nothing anyone could do.

Trevor had been the first person since his father had left to actually slip through the cracks of the walls he had built. He had sneaked into Tommy's heart, wrapped himself around it like a blanket, and made Tommy feel like the most important person in the world. It had been the first time in almost a decade that Tommy had felt loved and cared for.

And then Trevor had died, and the light in Tommy's heart had vanished along with him.

Tommy had lost himself, had denied who he was, had become someone he hated. He had allowed Gerrard to take hold of his brain, had succumbed to the peer pressure of the people around him. He had become a monster under Gerrard's influence, something he should've fought harder against.

But then, slowly but surely, more and more people had softened up Tommy's heart again. Chimney had saved his sorry ass from a gas explosion. Hen had refused to take the shit Gerrard and his goons had thrown at her and had graciously chosen to forgive him for not speaking up for her. Sal had been right beside him and Chim in getting Gerrard's ass fired. Bobby waltzed into the firehouse and had turned it into a place of warmth, even if Tommy had left for the 217 before it had really become a family.

And of course, seven years later, there had been Evan. Evan, with his infectious smile, his boundless energy, his ridiculously oversized heart. Sure, Tommy had first felt drawn to him because he was objectively very attractive, but it hadn't taken long for him to scratch beyond the surface. Evan's jealousy when Tommy and Eddie had hung out had been adorable (albeit concerning), and though their first date had been…an experience, to say the least, it wasn't like Tommy could really blame Evan. He was pretty sure he had ruined his own first date after coming out too. After they'd made it official at Chim and Maddie's wedding, getting to know Evan (really getting to know him) had been one of the most beautiful adventures Tommy had ever gone on.

Yes, Evan getting pregnant three months in had been a bit of a curveball, but the pups were far and beyond the best things that had ever happened to Tommy, and the day they were born, as chaotic as it had been, was the happiest day of his life. The wedding would very clearly come in as a close number two.

With a sigh, Tommy glanced at the twins, their innocent, peacefully sleeping faces staring back at him. How would he explain any of this to them when they were older? That their grandfather had walked out on his family, and only decided to come back into the picture when it was convenient for him? What if George wanted to be a part of their lives? The thought alone made Tommy's stomach churn.

The sound of footsteps against the gravel pulled Tommy out of his thoughts. Shit! He was out of time. With another deep breath to steel himself, he looked over to where the steps came from.

George looked older than Tommy remembered him being even just a week ago, with deep lines etched into his weathered face, and the sides of his hair even more gray, almost white even. There was a cautiousness in his step, as if he was unsure of how to approach this moment, the same moment Tommy had dreaded and anticipated in equal measure for the last two days since he'd reached out to arrange this meeting.

George stopped a few feet away, hands stuffed awkwardly into his jacket pockets. For a moment, father and son just looked at each other, neither of them moving even a muscle, be it from anxiety . Tommy's eyes, cold and steely, scanned over .

"Tommy," George finally said, his voice gravelly and low. It was strange hearing that voice after all these years. It made something cold twist in Tommy's gut.

"George," Tommy responded, trying to keep his voice steady. He almost barked the name out, the sound probably harsher than it had to, but he didn't really care. He didn't owe his father anything.

George flinched at the coldness in Tommy's voice (and a part of Tommy had to admit he kind of enjoyed it), but he took a tentative step forward and then gestured to the empty space on the bench. "May I?"

Tommy didn't respond right away, his eyes drifting to the twins, still peacefully asleep. The peace and innocence on their tiny faces was almost enough to stop the raging volcano inside his stomach, but even the love he had for his children had it's limits. Finally, he nodded, more for the twins' sake than anything else. He didn't want to cause a scene and wake them up after it had been such a pain to get them to sleep.

George sat down slowly, as if expecting the bench to crumble under the weight of his past actions and Tommy's resentment. For a long while, they sat in silence, the distant sounds of the park—children laughing, dogs barking, the rustle of leaves in the breeze—filling the void between them.

"I didn't expect… I wasn't sure you'd actually show up," George finally said, his voice tinged with what Tommy could only assume was hope, or fear. There was a rather mean-spirited comment at the top of Tommy's throat, one about how he could say the same thing considering George's oh-so-wonderful track record, but he bit it back. He was an adult. He was able to have a conversation with someone he didn't like without resorting to petty comments and insults.

He shrugged instead, his gaze locked straight ahead, watching without looking at anything, unwilling to give George the satisfaction of eye contact just yet. "I wasn't sure I would either."

Another beat of silence passed, thick and heavy. George seemed to struggle with what to say next, his hands fidgeting in his lap, betraying his nervousness.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I'm so, so sorry," he said at last. His voice was shaky, and barely above a whisper. For what it was worth, Tommy figured he did sound genuinely remorseful, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"That's it?" he asked, finally looking over at his father, his eyes hard. "You're sorry? That's all you have to say?!"

George winced, and Tommy decided that he was justified in feeling good about it. Maybe it wasn't the most mature thing, but he frankly couldn't be assed to be mature right now. It wasn't like George had any room to complain anyway.

"No," George said softly, looking down at his hands. "That's not all I have to say. But... it's a start. I know I can't make up for what I did, for what I didn't do. I just… I wanted to try. To explain."

Tommy scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Explain? Explain what? Why you just disappeared right after singing me to sleep? I know why! I get why you left! I know that Mom treated you like shit! I just want to know why you decided to leave me behind!"

Tommy's voice shook with anger and pain, the words coming harsher than he'd intended. Years of bottled-up resentment and hurt surged through his body like a giant wave that broke down every single one of his walls without abandon.

George flinched and, for a long moment, didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on his hands, which twisted and turned in his lap like they were trying to wring the air's neck for an answer. A twisted sense of satisfaction pierced into Tommy's heart, a part of him almost reveling in the fact that George struggled to come up with an answer.

"Yeah, I deserve that," George finally murmured, his voice barely audible. He glanced up at Tommy, his eyes rimmed red and full of regret. "You're right. I did leave you behind, and there's nothing I can say that will ever make that okay. But you have to know, Tommy, I never wanted to leave you."

Tommy's jaw clenched, his fists tightening on the bench. He hated the way George was looking at him, hated the way his voice wavered as if he had the right. This whole, entire situation would be so much easier if George was just the cold, heartless liar Tommy had built up in his mind over the years. But here he was, looking like a broken man, and it made Tommy's anger waver in pity, even if just for a second.

"So why did you?" he shot back, his voice cracking despite his efforts to keep it steady. "Why didn't you take me with you? Why did you just… leave me there?"

George closed his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself against the memories. When he opened them again, they were filled with a deep, aching sadness. "I…it was the eighties, Tommy. Custody courts weren't exactly in favor of Alpha parents, especially fathers. I figured trying to win custody was a lost cause, so I just…never filed for it."

Tommy blinked. This could not be real. This couldn't possibly be George's actual reasoning for abandoning him. He waited, expecting George to elaborate, to explain further, to say literally anything else that would make his explanation better. But that elaboration never came, and as that realization slowly set in, a fire ignited in Tommy's chest, quickly growing to the size of a monstrous inferno.

"So, you just…gave up?" Tommy's voice was sharp, laced with a venom that had been brewing for decades. "You decided it wasn't worth the fight? You left me with her because you thought you'd lose?"

George's gaze faltered again, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of his decisions had finally settled on him fully. "I didn't know what else to do, Tommy. I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of losing everything. Your mother was…she was ruthless. She would have ruined me, made sure I never saw you again."

"And you think abandoning me was better?" Tommy's voice cracked, the raw emotion finally spilling over. He didn't care that they were in a public park, didn't care that his voice was rising with each word. Years of suppressed pain were bubbling to the surface, and he couldn't hold it back anymore. "You should've fought for me! You should have protected me! Do you have any idea what Mom put me through after you left?!"

George flinched at the words, Tommy's accusations hitting square on the mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but Tommy wasn't done yet. All the bitterness, the hurt, the confusion—it surged up and erupted like a geyser out of him.

"I needed you!" Tommy spat, his voice breaking. "I needed you when Mom would scream at me for no reason! I needed you when she'd lock me in my room because she couldn't stand to look at me, or when she'd slap so hard I landed on the ground! I needed you every time I cried myself to sleep, wondering what I did wrong to make you leave!"

George's face was ashen, his eyes wide with horror and guilt. He reached out, but Tommy recoiled, shaking his head fiercely. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare try to touch me like you care now! You don't get to care now!"

Tommy's breath was ragged, chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears that threatened to spill over. He had tired, okay? He had tried so hard to keep his cool, to act his age, but seeing George's face, hearing his feeble excuses—it had been too much. Every last bit of resentment, yearning and loneliness broke through his barriers, tearing them down like a broken dam.

George looked like he was on the verge of breaking down himself, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he stared at Tommy, who's eyes were shooting daggers at him at this point. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper when he finally spoke.

"Tommy…I didn't know. I didn't think she would…" George choked out, his voice in a quiet sob. "I swear to God, I didn't know it was that bad. If I had—"

"Don't," Tommy cut him off, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "Don't you dare try to justify it now. You should have known! You should have been there! You were my father, for fuck's sake! It was your job to protect me, and you failed!"

The twins stirred slightly in their stroller, sensing the tension in the air, but thankfully, they didn't wake. Tommy glanced at them, and the sight of their peaceful, sleeping faces made his blood boil ever hotter. He couldn't imagine ever doing to them what George had done to him—couldn't fathom leaving them behind, no matter how difficult things got. The thought alone made his stomach churn, like he was about to throw up, and it only served to deepen his resentment for the man that had once been his father.

George rubbed a hand over his face, looking utterly defeated. "You're right," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I failed you. I was weak, and I was scared, and I let that fear control me. I thought… I thought leaving was the best thing for you. I thought you'd be better off without me in the picture, without all the fighting and the anger."

"And you were wrong," Tommy shot back, his voice cold. "You were so fucking wrong, and now it's too late. You can't just walk back into my life and expect everything to be okay. You don't get to do that."

"I know," George said, his voice cracking. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't even deserve to be sitting here with you now. But I wanted to try, Tommy. I wanted to try and make things right, or at least… to explain. To let you know that I never stopped thinking about you, never stopped loving you."

Tommy clenched his jaw, the knife in his heart twisting and twisting and twisting. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear George's apologies, his regrets. It didn't change anything. It didn't undo the years of pain, didn't dry the buckets of tears, didn't heal the myriad of wounds on his soul.

"Then prove it," he sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. The words came out low, gritted through his teeth. He didn't want to say them. He wanted nothing more than to tell George to fuck off into whichever hole he had been hiding in the last thirty years, take his kids home and be done with it. But there was a tiny voice at the back of his head that told him he couldn't. "I know a thing or two about redemption. I know how hard it is to own up to the fact that you fucked up. I know how much a single mistake can gnaw away at you. Let alone a thousand. And I know what a massive difference just being given a chance can make."

Tommy's voice was shaky, every bit of resentment he had built up over the decades trying to stop him from speaking. He had every reason to walk away from this conversation, to leave George sitting there with the weight of his own guilt. But something deep inside him, some small part that called him out and made him remember that he hadn't been the best guy around either twenty years ago, compelled him to give his father one last chance to prove himself, just like Hen and Chimney had given one to him.

George looked up at Tommy, surprise and cautious hope flickering in his eyes. "Prove it?" he repeated, as if the very idea of being given a chance was something he hadn't dared to expect.

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice still harsh, but quieter now, more measured. "Prove to me that you actually mean what you say. That you're not just here to ease your own guilt or try to make yourself feel better. Show me that you're willing to put in the work to make up for what you did, for all the years you weren't there."

George nodded slowly, as if every movement was deliberate, carefully considering Tommy's words. "I want to," he said finally. "I want to do whatever it takes to earn your trust, to be a part of your life again… if you'll let me. I know it won't be easy. I know it'll take time, and I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. But I'm here, Tommy. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Tommy wanted to believe him. He really did. But believing him meant opening himself up to the possibility of being hurt again, and that was a risk Tommy wasn't sure he was ready to take. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to shield himself from the vulnerability of the situation.

"Just so we're clear," Tommy said, his voice low. "All of this happens on my terms. You won't be coming to my wedding and you won't be in Benji and Emily's lifes. You haven't earned the right for any of that."

Without waiting for George's response, Tommy got up from the bench and stretched a little before grabbing the stroller. Only then did he turn to look at his father, studying him, trying to gauge his reaction. George remained seated, his hands clasped tightly together in his lap, his eyes locked onto the ground. The tension between them was palpable, a heavy weight seemingly pressing down on both of them.

Tommy didn't know what he expected George to say or do in that moment. Maybe he thought George would fight him on it, argue his case, plead for more, but the older man just nodded slowly, a resigned acceptance etched into his face. There was no spark of defiance, no attempt to push for more than what Tommy was willing to give him at this point in time. George seemed to know he was on thin ice, that one wrong move would send him plunging into the cold abyss, and so he treaded carefully.

"I understand," George said, his voice quiet but steady. "I won't push. I won't ask for more than you're willing to give. I just… I want to be here, Tommy. I want to be a part of your life, in whatever capacity you'll allow. Even if it's just from a distance, even if it means I never get to see my grandchildren… I'll take whatever you're willing to give me."

Tommy's grip on the stroller tightened, his knuckles turning white. He hated that George's words stirred something in him, something that wasn't anger or resentment but a deep, aching sense of heartbreak. He didn't want to feel sorry for his father. He didn't want to feel anything for him at all. But the sight of the broken man before him left him feeling almost hollow.

For a moment, Tommy considered just walking away, leaving George behind in the park with his guilt and regrets. It would be easier that way, wouldn't it? To just cut him off and move on with his life, the life he had built without either of his parents in it. But as he looked at George, really looked at him, he saw the same man who had once held his hand when he was scared, who had sung him to sleep, who had been his hero before everything had gone wrong.

And he realized this wasn't about forgiveness or making things right. It was about finding some way to live with the past, to come to terms with it, and to move forward without letting it ruin the future. Tommy wasn't sure if that was possible, but he knew that if he didn't at least try, the anger and bitterness would continue to eat away at him until there was nothing left but the hollow shell of the man he wanted to be.

With a sigh, Tommy turned the stroller slightly, angling it so he could look at George without completely turning his back on him. "I'll make an appointment with a family therapist. I'm not sure we're gonna get much of anywhere without one. Until I send you the date, I don't want you to contact me or my fiancé. Is that clear?"

George's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he quickly nodded, his expression a mix of relief and wariness. "Yes," he said softly, his voice steady but carrying a sense of resignation. "I understand. I won't reach out unless you want me to. Just… thank you, Tommy. Thank you for giving me a chance, even if it's just a small one."

Tommy didn't respond right away. He stood there for a moment, his hands gripping the stroller handles tightly as if they were the only thing keeping him grounded. He glanced down at the twins, still blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between their father and grandfather. Their tiny, peaceful faces were a stark contrast to the turmoil inside Tommy, and it was that innocence, that pure, untainted love he had for his children, that helped him make his next decision.

"I'm not doing this for you," Tommy said quietly, finally meeting George's gaze. "I'm doing this for me. And for them." He nodded toward the stroller. "Because they deserve a good Dad. One that isn't hung up on the past and the What-Could-Have-Beens."

George's eyes softened, and for a moment, Tommy felt himself getting whisked to the past, back when he had looked at his father like he was a superhero. It was a warm feeling, but there was an undercurrent of coldness from somewhere in his stomach that tainted it. "I know, Tommy," George said, his voice low. He stared on the ground, unable to meet Tommy's eyes. "I know. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove that you're making the right choice."

Tommy didn't respond. Instead, he took a deep breath, the crisp early fall air filling his lungs and clearing some of the fog out of his head. He wasn't ready to forgive George, not by a long shot. But maybe this could be the first step toward healing a part of himself he hadn't realized was still so hurt.

With nothing but another curt nod, Tommy turned and began to push the stroller down the path, away from the bench where George still sat. He didn't look back, didn't want to see the expression on his father's face as he left. The pain was still too fresh, the wounds too raw. But as he walked away, the sound of the park slowly fading behind him, he felt a small spark of hope ignite in his chest, one he hadn't felt in years.

This wasn't the end. It wasn't a clean break, nor was it a quick fix. But it was something, a tentative first step toward healing, even if that path was long and winding and fraught with obstacles. And as Tommy walked back toward the car, the twins' soft breathing a comforting reminder of the life he had built for himself, he decided that maybe he was strong enough to take that first step.

*

Los Angeles, 2017

"Finally got out from under Nash's thumb, huh?"

Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at Sal's biting remark as he took his beer from the other man. Sal had insisted on taking Tommy out to celebrate his transfer to the 217, where he would finally be able to fly again. While he already missed Hen and Howie, and he certainly liked what Nash was doing with the place, the opportunity to go back to flying helicopters (on top of a higher salary) was too good to pass up.

The bar around them was bustling with activity. It was a popular joint for first responders, one that Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Howie had come to a few times, though they had ditched it for their usual pretty quickly, partially because it was closer to the 118, partially because they got a discount there after Hen and Howie had successfully saved one of the bartenders after he'd had an epileptic seizure.

Sal had picked this bar, though, precisely because Hen and Howie were less likely to be here, he'd told Tommy when he picked him up earlier tonight. They both loved those two, okay? Obviously they did. But they had thrown a whole party to celebrate this new chapter in Tommy's life, and Sal hadn't attended (because he still held a grudge against Captain Nash).

"He's not that bad, you know?" Tommy asked, taking his first sip off the bottle. Sal only scoffed and rolled his eyes, drawing a chuckle out of Tommy. Sal was nothing but prideful, and the way Nash had just swooped in, called out his bad attitude and kicked him off the 118 had been enough of a punch to the nuts. The revelation that Nash knew Sal was a good firefighter deep down, didn't fire him, and instead had him transferred to the 122 had pissed Sal off even more though, and Tommy was more than sure he would never forgive Nash for any of this.

"Sure, he's not," Sal replied, rolling his eyes, sarcasm dripping from every single syllable. The sip he took from his beer after was overly aggressive, and Tommy had to bite his lip to not burst out laughing. "But I'm not here to talk about Nash. Tonight's about you, Tommy."

Tommy's expression morphed into an appreciative smile. Because despite his brashness and short temper, Sal was a good guy, and a thoughtful friend. Seeing him go, as much as Tommy, after really thinking about it, understood Captain Nash's point, had hurt. He and Sal had been partners at the 118, had been best friends for a long-ass time, and he'd felt almost naked without him out in the field for the first few weeks. Thankfully, Sal had meant it when he said he'd stay in touch. "I appreciate that, Sal. I really do."

He genuinely didn't know what he'd do without Sal. Sal had transferred to the 118 shortly after Chimney had saved Tommy's sorry ass from that gas explosion, after he had moved to LA from New York (because that city just couldn't leave Tommy alone, could it?). He'd been a bit of a dick at first (but so had Tommy, so who was he to judge?), and okay, yeah, the gay jokes he used to fling around kinda hurt, but at the same time, Sal had had his back like no other from day one.

They clinked their bottles together and stayed silent for a bit, Sal leaning back in his chair, scanning the room. "You know, I miss when that was us," he said, nodding toward a couple of firefighters laughing at the bar. The light in his eyes dimmed a little, a small sigh escaping him. He still smiled, but it had turned smaller, sadder. "You and me and Hen and Chim, I mean."

Tommy followed Sal's gaze, watching the group with a low hum. They were younger, full of that reckless energy that came from facing death every day and coming out the other side. He remembered similar days back in the army, before the reality and horrors of their situation had truly set in. He hoped these guys, whoever they were, never lost their happiness.

"Yeah," Tommy said softly, the nostalgia washing over him. "Those were some good times."

Sal chuckled, though it was tinged with a hint of melancholy. "You know, I didn't think I'd ever find a crew like that again after leaving the 118. But the 122 isn't half bad. They've got some solid folks there."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "Is that your way of saying you actually like your new team?"

Sal laughed outright at that, shaking his head. "Don't get carried away, dumbass. I said they were solid, not that I'm all buddy-buddy with them."

Tommy snorted, taking another sip of his beer. "Fair enough. But seriously, I'm glad you found your place there. Adjusting to a new team isn't easy."

"No, it's not," Sal agreed, waving his bottle into Tommy's direction. "But hey, we're adaptable, right? We've faced worse."

Tommy nodded, thinking back to the countless dangerous situations they'd navigated together. Fires that seemed impossible to contain, rescues that pushed them to their limits, moments where they weren't sure they'd make it out alive. But they had, every single time, because they had each other's backs. It was that trust, that unspoken bond, that had made them such a formidable team.

"Yeah," Tommy admitted. "We've been through a lot together." Then, with a sigh, he added, "I do already miss Hen and Chim."

"Of course you do," Sal said, rolling his eyes, though not unkindly. "They're good people. We've all been siblings in arms for what, ten years? I'd be insulted on their behalf if you didn't."

Tommy chuckled softly, feeling the weight of Sal's words. Ten years was a long time to spend with anyone, let alone in their line of work. When he'd gotten back from Iraq and joined the academy, Tommy had been adamant about not letting anyone in again. Ever. Not after what happened with Trevor. But then Eli had treated him with kindness, Howie had saved his ass from getting blown up in a gas explosion, Sal had transferred in and integrated himself into the team better and faster than anyone could have anticipated, and Hen had taken a stand that very possibly could have gotten her fired if Gerrard had gotten his way. Hen's speech had been awe inspiring, and Tommy had contemplated coming out to the team (or at least to Hen specifically) for a while after, but ultimately hadn't been able to bring himself to. He hadn't been ready.

"So, when do you start?" Sal asked now, changing the subject. Reminiscing on the past clearly had taken a toll on him, and Tommy knew he was too proud to be too emotional for too long like this in public. There was a snarky little tease about it on Tommy's tongue, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to piss Sal off, after all.

"Monday," he replied instead, his excitement to get back in the air slipping into his voice. After 10 years of only sporadically getting into the air when he managed to scrape together enough money to rent a helicopter for an hour or two, getting to fly one on the regular as his job was nothing less than a dream come true. "Just a few more days to get everything in order."

Sal raised his bottle again. "Here's to new beginnings, then."

"To new beginnings," Tommy echoed, taking a long drink. And then—maybe it was the alcohol, maybe the whole talk about new beginnings—he made a decision. "I'm gay."

Sal nearly choked on his beer, eyes wide as he stared at Tommy. For a few moments, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background as Tommy watched Sal's face go from shock, to confusion, to…sadness?

Tommy wasn't sure what reaction he had expected from Sal. Maybe anger, maybe indifference, maybe something sarcastic and cutting. But…that forlorn expression on his face? That wasn't on his Coming Out Bingo Card. He felt a knot form in his stomach as he waited for Sal to say something, anything, really.

Cause this couldn't be it, right? Sal wouldn't…He wouldn't, right? He'd come such a long way (he and Tommy both did) since the 118's Good Ole Days. He and Hen were friends. Tommy knew from the beginning that there would be people who'd turn around on him and cut him off for this. He wasn't stupid after all. He just hadn't thought Sal would be like that. (Had hoped Sal wouldn't be like that.)

Sal finally set his beer down with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at Tommy. "That's…a bit of a bombshell, man. Why are you telling me this now?"

Tommy shrugged, trying to keep his tone light even as his heart slammed against his ribcage over and over. "Felt like it was time. New job, fresh start, seemed like I should stop lying, you know? Plus, you're my best friend."

Sal let out another sigh, this one more resigned than the last. He fiddled with the label on his beer bottle, peeling it away in small strips. "Tommy, it's not that I have an issue with...you being gay. I don't. It's just...I don't know, man. Why didn't you tell me before? We've walked through fire together—literally! I thought you trusted me."

Tommy felt a pang of guilt stab up into his stomach. That really wasn't what he'd wanted Sal to feel like. "I know, Sal. I know. And I'm sorry. It wasn't about you, really. It was about me. I wasn't ready. Hell, I was scared, actually."

Sal's face scrunched up a little at Tommy's admission, the confusion practically etched into his face. "Scared of what, exactly?" The earlier edge of sarcasm and irritation in his voice softened out into what Tommy assumed (hoped) was a genuine want to understand.

"Scared of losing people," he admitted. Unable to keep looking into Sal's eyes, his own fell down to his bottle. "Scared of things changing. You never know how those around you react."

Sal nodded slowly, his expression mellowing out. "Yeah, I think I get it. I was a massive dick back when I started, so that probably didn't help either."

Tommy shook his head, a small smile entering his face. "Please, you haven't seen me before Chimney saved my sorry ass. I got better, you got better. And I figured, if I can't be honest with you now, then when?"

Sal looked at him, his eyes searching Tommy's face. "Yeah, I get it. And for what it's worth, I'm glad you told me. I mean, it's a lot to take in, but it doesn't change anything between us. You're still my best friend, Tommy. Always will be."

Relief washed over Tommy like a tidal wave. He hadn't even realized how tense he was until that moment. "Thanks, Sal. That means a lot."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the noise of the bar gradually filtering back into their awareness. Tommy watched the firefighters at the bar, their laughter and camaraderie a reminder of what he cherished most about his job—the sense of family, of belonging.

*

Los Angeles, 2025

"Do I look good?" Buck asked for probably the umpteenth time today. It had started at seven in the morning, when he had shown up at Maddie and Chimney's house and had practically fallen into a tirade about how he was already an hour behind schedule and Maddie had to get started on his hair now and would they even be able to get to the venue on time?! "I don't, don't I?! Tommy's gonna say No, isn't he?!"

Maddie, who had been incredibly patient through the whole ordeal, sighed softly as she finished the last touch on Buck's hair. She gently placed the comb down on the counter and turned him around to face the mirror. "Buck, you look great," she said, her tone reassuring but firm. "Tommy is not going to say no, and you know that. You could wear a garbage bag and have trash in your hair and he'd still marry you every single time. Today's going to be perfect."

Chimney, who had been busy getting Jee-Yun fed, quickly bathed and into her little pale violet flower girl dress (Which was much, much more difficult than you'd expect. He had spent half the time chasing her around), chimed in. "Yeah, Buck. If anyone's gonna mess this up, it's definitely not gonna be you. And if it makes you feel any better, I've never seen you look this sharp."

But Buck wasn't so easily consoled. He turned back to the mirror, scrutinizing every detail of his appearance—whether white was a bad choice for his suit, how the lapels lay flat, whether his bowtie was perfectly centered. His fingers twitched nervously as he adjusted and readjusted the knot at his throat. "I don't know, guys," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "What if something goes wrong? What if I trip? Or forget what I'm supposed to say? What if—"

A pull on his pant leg snapped Buck out of his rant. His head snapped down to see Jee looking up at him with all the earnestness and seriousness a four-year-old could muster. "Uncle Buck, you look really nice."

Buck looked down at his niece, her hair expertly styled in a French braid (because she wanted to be just like Elsa) courtesy of Chimney, his heart softening at the sight of her wide, innocent eyes. Her words, simple as they were, carried a sincerity that all his anxiety couldn't shake. He crouched down to her level, forcing a smile as he pushed back the overwhelming surge of nerves clawing at his soul. "You think so, Jee?"

Jee-Yun nodded vigorously, her little flower crown bobbing slightly with the movement. "Yep! You look like a prince. Uncle Tommy's gonna be really happy." Her confidence in her statement was unwavering, and it made Buck laugh—a short, genuine sound that he was pretty sure he hadn't let out for at least three days.

"See?" Maddie added, stepping up beside them. "Even Jee knows you're going to be just fine. You've prepared for this day for months, and everything is going to go perfectly." She squeezed his shoulder, giving him that big sister smile that always made him feel like everything would turn out alright.

Chimney, who was now in the middle of tying his tie, his dark blue suit already sitting perfectly, leaned against the doorway with a grin. "Listen to your niece, Buck. She's got good taste. And besides, all you have to do today is say 'I do.' You've already done the hard part—you found someone who loves you as much as Tommy does. The rest is just the party."

Buck straightened up, taking a deep breath as he let the truth in Chimney's words sink in. He had found someone who loved him for all that he was—an adventure-seeker with a heart too big for his own good, who made mistakes but always tried to fix them. Tommy loved him despite all his imperfections, maybe even because of them. That thought brought a measure of calm to the storm of thoughts in his head.

"I just… I just want everything to be perfect," Buck admitted, his voice softer now, less frantic. "Tommy deserves that."

"And it will be," Maddie reassured him, giving his arm a comforting pat. "You both deserve this. And everyone who loves you is going to be there, cheering you on. So, no more worrying, okay? Let's just get through today, and then you can stress about something else tomorrow."

"Like the honeymoon," Chimney suggested with a cheeky grin, earning a playful glare from Maddie.

Buck chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. I'll try to stop overthinking everything." He glanced at the clock, noting the time with a fresh jolt of nerves. "But we really do need to get going if we're gonna make it there on time."

Maddie grabbed the small basket of flowers from the counter and handed them to Jee-Yun, who accepted it with great seriousness. "Then let's not waste any more time. We'll make sure you get there with time to spare. You just focus on remembering how to breathe, okay?"

"Breathing, right. I can do that." Buck took another deep breath, this one more controlled, as if trying to convince himself that he could manage the simple task of keeping his composure. He was just being dramatic. He had planned everything down to the T, everyone was where they were meant to be (And no viral encephalitis this time either!). With a small nod, he went for the door. "Okay. Let's get myself married."

*

Los Angeles, 2024

"Hey, Trevor," Tommy said, placing the flowers down on the grave. The bouquet looked out of place on the planted bed of colorful flowers. White lilies formed a circle at the heart of the flowerbed, and stretching out from it were then a loop of pale pink roses, yellow daffodils, blue forget-me-nots, and finally, a circle of bright red tulips forming the outer layer. He'd helped Trevor's mother and sister plant the bed, right after he'd brought Trevor home. It was hard to believe that it had been 21 years already. "I haven't been here for a while. Sorry 'bout that."

With a heavy sigh, Tommy sat down on the grass in front, and simply looked on for a moment. Trevor Goldberg, the headstone read, beautiful white writing on a stark black base. 1980 - 2003. Beloved son, brother, partner, protector. It was such a perfect description of Trevor, yet didn't do him justice at the same time.

Trevor had been the sun. Always beaming, always shining, radiating warmth, making people flock to and circle around him. He'd been kind, brave, so easy going, and accepting that Tommy had a hard time believing anybody could have possibly disliked him. Trevor had been as close to perfect as a human being could be, and Tommy would gladly die on that hill.

"Sandy got married a few years ago," he continued with a smile. "You probably knew that already. I was actually kind of surprised that she invited me."

Tommy chuckled softly, shaking his head at the memory. "I guess I shouldn't have been, huh? Sandy's always been a sweetheart, just like you. She married a good guy, too. Jason. You would've liked him. He's got that same easy-going charm you had. Makes everyone feel like they belong, you know?"

He paused, pulling at a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of the flowers surrounding Trevor's grave. For a moment, Tommy could almost imagine that it was Trevor's voice he heard in the rustling leaves, whispering back to him.

"Your mom," Tommy said after a while, his voice quieter, "she's doing okay, I think. She still misses you, though. We all do. But she's strong, just like you were. I visit her sometimes, you know, when I can. We'll have tea, and talk about you sometimes, and the little things you used to do. Like how you used to sneak extra cookies after dinner or how you'd sing along to those old songs on the radio, even when you didn't know the words."

He laughed softly, though it was laced with sadness. "I still can't listen to anything by Journey without thinking of you. Kinda funny, right? How music can make you feel like someone's right there with you even when they're not."

Tommy closed his eyes with a sigh as memories of a much simpler time washed over him, bittersweet and vivid. As much as his mother tried to make his very existence miserable, Trevor had always brightened Tommy's day. He leaned back, propping himself up on his palms, letting his eyes drift across the well-tended flowerbed. The colors blurred slightly as his vision misted over, and he blinked away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"I need to tell you something. I met someone. A...a guy. His name's Evan," Tommy said eventually, rubbing his eyes, a small blush creeping up his cheeks. "Well, he goes by 'Buck,' mostly, but I'm allowed to call him by his given name. It's a bit of a privilege, I've heard."

This thing with Evan was new. So new. But it was also so real, so good already.

"You would've liked him. He's a lot like you," he continued, wiping away another stray tear with a soft sniff. "We've only been on two dates and he already invited me to his sister's wedding, can you believe that? Doesn't that sound like something you'd've done?"

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the cemetery. Tommy could feel the chill of the evening air setting in, but he didn't mind.

"The...the last thing you said to me," he choked out, tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve. "You said you want me to be happy. And I think I am. It took me a while, but I think I'm there now."

Tommy let the words hang in the air for a moment, his voice catching slightly as he fought to keep his composure. The image of Trevor, battered and wounded in the back of the chopper, flashed in his mind for a moment, and Tommy felt a familiar, tightening sensation in his chest. Trevor had been in so much pain, his body failing him in ways that no one should ever have to endure. But even in those final moments, he'd managed to smile, to offer Tommy one last piece of himself—a wish for his happiness.

"I think about that day a lot," Tommy admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now more than ever, honestly. Some days, it's the only thing that keeps me going. Knowing that you wanted that for me, even when you were...when you knew you weren't gonna..."

He couldn't finish the sentence, his throat tightening with grief that time had not dulled. Tommy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar nervous habit grounding him just enough to continue.

"Evan, he's...I don't know how to describe it. He's strong, but not in the same way you were. You were always so open, so warm with everyone right from the start. And Evan is too, but sometimes it feels like he's holding himself back, like he thinks he might chase me away or something? I don't know, but I think he's adorable," Tommy shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He's something special, Trev. I feel like I could actually build something with him. He's the first guy since…well, since you."

He paused, looking down at the grass beneath him, the blades bending under the weight of his fingers. "I was scared, you know? Scared to open up again, to let someone in after losing you. I kinda stuck to just hooking up for a while, cause just thinking about dating again made me feel like I was betraying you. Like I was forgetting you." His voice broke, and he let the tears fall freely now, no longer trying to hold them back. "But I know that's not true. I know you'd want this for me."

The sky above was slowly fading into twilight, the first stars beginning to twinkle faintly in the dusky blue. Tommy stared up at them, wondering if somewhere out there, Trevor was looking down at him, still watching over him like he always had.

"I'm trying, Trev. I really am. To be happy, to move on. But it's hard. It's so damn hard without you here. Some days, I don't know if I'm strong enough. But then I think about you, and it's like you're pushing me forward, telling me to keep going."

He took a deep breath, the cool evening air filling his lungs and clearing his head. "I'm gonna go to that wedding with Evan. I'm going to give this a real chance. I think you'd want me to. And maybe this could be something good. Something...right."

Tommy reached out, his hand resting on the cold stone of Trevor's headstone, the polished surface smooth beneath his fingertips. It was a small connection, a way to feel close to him again, if only for a moment.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of those simple words. "And I miss you so much, every day. But I'm going to be okay. I have to be. For you. For me. For us."

He stayed like that for a while, his hand on the headstone, his thoughts drifting between the past and the present, between memories of Trevor and the new possibilities with Evan. The cemetery was quiet now, the only sound the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. It was peaceful in a way that Tommy hadn't felt in a long time.

As the last light of day faded, Tommy finally stood up, brushing the grass off his jeans. He looked down at Trevor's grave one last time, the flowers now bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight.

"Goodbye, Trev," he said softly, a small, sad smile on his lips. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

He turned to leave, his heart heavy yet somehow lighter at the same time. As he walked away, he felt a gentle breeze brush against his cheek, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if Trevor was there, right beside him, walking with him one last time.

Tommy glanced back over his shoulder, the headstone now just a shadow in the distance, and he could have sworn he saw something—someone—standing there, watching him go. But when he blinked, the figure was gone, and it was just him, alone in the twilight.

With a deep breath, Tommy faced forward and kept walking, the path ahead uncertain but filled with the hope that Trevor had given him, the strength to keep moving forward, to find happiness again.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Trevor's voice, soft and reassuring, just like it had always been.

"Be happy, Tommy. That's all I ever wanted."

Tommy smiled, a tear slipping down his cheek, but this time, it was a tear of acceptance, of peace.

"I will, Trev. I promise."

*

Los Angeles, 2025

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have gathered here today to celebrate the union between Thomas Enzo Kinard and Evan Lloyd Buckley," Bobby began, a soft smile playing on his lips. Buck appreciated his calmness, because he was anything but calm. His heart felt like a rubber ball that bounced around in his chest and threatened to smack right up his throat.

As Bobby's voice echoed through the quiet of Descanso Gardens' Japanese Garden, a venue Buck still couldn't believe he and Tommy had actually been able to book, Buck's gaze flickered to the crowd gathered before them. It was a small crowd, since both he and Tommy wanted to keep it all intimate, but seeing the warmth and happiness in everyone's eyes (His mother had tears in hers, when had that happened?), as well as Eddie and Christopher's calm behind him (Obviously he'd picked both of them as his best men) still made him feel a bit more at ease, if only marginally. His heart still pounded loud against his ribcage, and he could almost hear the blood rushing through his ears, a relentless sound mirroring the volume of the Niagara Falls.

Tommy, standing beside him, seemed the picture of serenity, his hand steady as it held onto Buck's, which shook heavily (Though it wasn't all too noticeable thanks to Tommy's). Buck knew better, though. He could feel the slight twitching of Tommy's fingers, the subtle tension in his grip that betrayed the nerves under his usual stoic exterior. Chimney and Sal behind him gave a caring smile (Chim) and a shit-eating grin (Sal) at Tommy, both of them clearly knowing just as well that Tommy was nowhere near as put together as he appeared. With a new sense of solidarity, Buck gave Tommy's hand a tight squeeze, signaling him that he was there and just as terrified (in the best way possible). Tommy squeezed right back.

Bobby's voice continued, grounding Buck as he tried to focus on the words.

"Marriage is more than just a bond between two people; it is the coming together of two souls, two lives, and two hearts, intertwined by the greatest treasure known to mankind, love. It's about finding someone who understands your flaws, who celebrates your victories, who holds you through your losses, and who walks beside you through every step of life."

Buck's mind drifted back to the first time he met Tommy. He still couldn't quite believe that all this was happening because Hen had a hunch, and Chimney had seen right through her and rushed him and Eddie to harbor station to intercept her. If that hadn't happened, he never would've met the love of his life and father of his children. Hell, his children wouldn't even exist if he hadn't met Tommy that night, and somehow that was the scariest part of it all. As unplanned as the little rascals had been, neither he nor Tommy could imagine living without them anymore.

Buck squeezed Tommy's hand a little tighter, feeling the tremor of nerves still present beneath the surface. The memories of their admittedly not quite long life together rushed to his head—moving in together, the late-night, cuddled up talks, the laughter, the arguments that only made them stronger in the end, and the overwhelming love that had grown between them in a strangely short amount of time, a love that now included two tiny, perfect beings who had somehow completed their lives in a way neither of them had ever expected.

Bobby's voice brought him back to the present, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Marriage," Bobby was saying, "is about weathering the storms together, holding on to each other when the world seems to be falling apart. It's about finding strength in each other, being each other's home, and knowing that no matter what happens, you will always have someone to lean on."

Buck's eyes met Tommy's, and he saw the same emotions reflected back at him. The love, the fear, the excitement, and the unspoken promise that whatever came next, they would face it together.

Bobby continued, "Today, we celebrate the love that Buck and Tommy have found in each other, a love that has already seen them through so much. And now, they stand before us, ready to make a commitment to continue this journey together, no matter where it takes them."

There was a pause, and Buck felt a gentle squeeze from Tommy's hand, a wordless reminder that they were in this together. He glanced at Bobby, who was looking at them both with a warmth that made Buck feel like he was truly part of something larger, something sacred.

"Buck, Tommy," Bobby said, his voice filled with emotion, "you've chosen to write your own vows. Buck, why don't you go first?"

Buck swallowed hard around the lump that had grown in his throat. This was it. He'd thought about what he wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, he felt like everything he'd planned was inadequate, like there weren't enough words in the world to express what Tommy meant to him.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Eddie and Chris, both of which gave him encouraging nods. With a nod, Buck looked back at Tommy, the sparkling blue of his eyes fueling him with confidence.

"Tommy," Buck began, his voice trembling slightly but growing stronger with each word, "I've never been good at finding the right words, but I hope I did it this time. I never imagined that I'd be standing here, with someone who gets me the way you do, who loves me for who I am, even the parts of me that I'm still trying to figure out."

He paused, feeling the emotion rising in his chest. Tommy's eyes never left his, filled with an intensity that made Buck's heart ache in the best way possible.

"I used to think that love was something that just…happened to you, you know? That it was something you fell into. But now, I realize that that makes love sound like a trap or a pit. Someone once told me that love is something you build, piece by piece, every day. And I didn't really know what he meant until I met you, and we started building our life together, brick by brick. Funnily enough, that old man's name was also Thomas."

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd, and Buck chimed in too, though he felt awkward doing it. When it died down again, he swallowed hard, his throat tight. "You're my partner, the person I want to come home to every night, my everything. You've seen me at my best, and you've seen me maybe not at my worst, but at my 'pretty bad,' and somehow, you're still here, still choosing me. And I promise that I will always choose you, too. I will always fight for us, for our family, for this life we've built together. Because you are my home, Tommy. You and our kids—you're everything to me. I love you more than I could ever express."

There was a moment of silence as Buck finished, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He felt like he could barely breathe, the intensity of the moment pressing down on him. But then Tommy smiled, that soft, beautiful smile that Buck loved so much, and suddenly, everything felt right.

"Tommy," Bobby prompted gently.

Tommy took a breath, his hand still gripping Buck's tightly, as if drawing strength from the connection. "Evan," he began, his voice steady, "I don't know if I can say this as well as you just did, but I'll try."

Another small laugh rippled through the crowd, and Buck felt the tension ease just a bit.

"When we first met, I wasn't looking for anything. I was just…living, you know? I was already almost halfway through my forties, and I figured I was too old to still find my person. I was just getting through the days, doing my job, and trying to figure out where I fit in the world. And then you came along, with your big heart and your infectious smile, and everything changed. You changed everything."

Tommy's voice wavered slightly, and Buck could see the light in his eyes, the same overwhelming spark that he felt in his own heart.

"You made me realize that it wasn't too late for me, and that life isn't just about surviving—it's about living. Really living. And you taught me what it means to love someone so completely, so deeply, that it scares you. But you also taught me that love is worth the fear, worth the risk, because with you, Evan, I feel like I can face anything."

He paused, and Buck felt his heart swell behind his ribs, tears pooling in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Buck saw that Tommy wasn't any better, the glistening making his irises only more radiant.

"I promise to love you, Evan, in all the ways that matter—in the quiet moments, in the loud ones, in the good times and the bad. I promise to be your partner, your confidant, and the best father I can possibly be to our children. I promise to stand by your side, no matter what, and to keep building this life with you, one day at a time. Because you are my everything, too. You and Benji and Emily—you're my family, and I will always, always choose you."

There was a silence that followed, thick, and sweet, and happy, as the weight of Tommy's words settled over them all like a blanket. Buck felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't bother to hold them back. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he had dreamed of but never truly believed could be real until now.

"Tommy," Bobby spoke up again, masking the sniff in his voice with a cough, "do you take Buck as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Tommy's eyes softened even further, and a small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of his lips. He squeezed Buck's hand again, the warmth and surety of the gesture speaking volumes more than any words could.

"I do," Tommy said, his voice clear and unwavering. Buck wasn't sure why hearing Tommy say those two words made his knees weak. He knew he would say them. There had been an absolute zero percent chance of him saying "No." But it still got him, right in the gut, making his legs shake like jelly.

Bobby nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile. He turned his gaze to Buck, who's tears were now freely flowing down his face, a small laugh escaping him as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Buck," Bobby continued, "do you take Tommy as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Buck didn't hesitate. He had never been surer of anything in his life. His voice, though wavering from the tears, was steady as he spoke the words that would bind them together for the rest of their lives.

"I do," Buck replied, his voice breaking slightly on the last syllable. He squeezed Tommy's hand tighter, feeling the reality of the moment settle over him like a warm embrace.

Bobby smiled wider now, the joy of the moment reflected in his eyes. He turned slightly to the side, and Hen stepped forward, holding out a small box. Bobby took it and opened it to reveal the rings that Buck and Tommy had chosen together, two simple, black bands made of Tungsten carbide that spoke of their shared taste and the life they had built together.

"May I have the rings, please?" Bobby asked, and Hen passed them over, a smile of her own lighting up her face. She shot first Buck, then Tommy, a knowing look that said everything, honestly, before she stepped down and sat next to Karen, Denny, and Mara.

Bobby held out the rings, one to Buck and the other to Tommy. Both men took them with slightly trembling hands, the weight of the small bands feeling monumental in their significance.

"Tommy, please place the ring on Buck's finger and repeat after me," Bobby instructed gently.

Tommy took Buck's left hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding Buck in the reality of the moment. He slipped the ring onto Buck's finger with surprising steadiness, his eyes never leaving Buck's as he repeated the words that Bobby spoke.

"I, Thomas Enzo Kinard, take you, Evan Lloyd Buckley, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to love you, to honor you, and to cherish you, through all of life's joys and sorrows, for all the days of my life."

The words came easily, but they carried the weight of all the experiences they had shared, all the memories they had made, and all the dreams they still had yet to fulfill. The ring slid into place, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the air thick with love and promise.

"Buck, please place the ring on Tommy's finger and repeat after me," Bobby said, his voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the leaves around them.

Buck's hands shook slightly as he took Tommy's left hand in his, but there was a steadiness in his heart that gave him strength. He slid the ring onto Tommy's finger, feeling the cool material warm against his skin as he spoke the vows that would bind them together for life.

"I, Evan Lloyd Buckley, take you, Thomas Enzo Kinard, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I promise to love you, to honor you, and to cherish you, through all of life's joys and sorrows, for all the days of my life."

The ring settled into place, and Buck felt a wave of joy wash over him, so strong that he had to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over once again. This was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he had dreamed of but never quite believed would come true. And yet, here he was, standing beside the man he loved more than anything in the world, promising to spend the rest of his life with him.

"By the power vested in me by the Los Angeles Fire Department," Bobby smiled, his voice full and warm, "and by the love that you have for each other, I now pronounce you Alpha and Omega. You may kiss."

Buck didn't need to be told twice. He stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Tommy, and captured his husband's (Husband's!) lips in a kiss that was full of love, full of promise, full of everything that they had shared and everything that was still to come.

The crowd erupted into applause, cheers ringing out around them as Buck and Tommy pulled back, breathless and smiling, their foreheads resting together as they took in the reality of the moment. They were married. They were really, truly married.

As they turned to face their friends and family, hands still clasped together, Buck felt a sense of peace settle over him. It wasn't the end of their journey—it was just the beginning. But whatever came next, he knew that they would face it together, side by side, hand in hand, just as they had promised.

And hours later, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Japanese Garden, Buck knew with absolute certainty that this was the life he was meant to live, with the man he was meant to spend it with. Together, they would build a future filled with love, with laughter, with family. Together, they would weather whatever storms life threw their way. Together, they would live their happily ever after.

*

Los Angeles, 2030

"Lady and gentleman, this is your pilot speaking," Tommy said, putting on his best Commercial Pilot™ voice, much to the amusement of Benji and Emily, who were sharing the co-pilot seat. It was hard to believe that they'd be five years old tomorrow (Tommy would not think about the fact that he was turning 49 this year, he would not), and that he was finally giving them their first ever flight in his helicopter. He'd gotten special permission from Captain Holt to take the chopper for a quick twenty minute flight around the area for the twins' birthday, given that it wasn't currently needed for a call. Thankfully, it hadn't, and Tommy was able to give his kids their first birthday gift a little early. "Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened, we are preparing for landing."

He glanced over at Benji and Emily, who were grinning from ear to ear, their small hands gripping the edges of the co-pilot seat as they stared wide-eyed out the cockpit window. The world stretched out beneath them in a patchwork of greens and browns, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the landscape. The helicopter's gentle hum filled the cabin, a comforting sound that had become as familiar to Tommy as his own heartbeat over the years.

"It's so pretty up here!" Emily exclaimed, a look of pure awe and ecstasy on her face. "Do you get to see this every day, Daddy?"

Tommy chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I sure do, sweet pea," he replied, his voice warm with affection. "Every time I go up, it feels like I'm seeing it for the first time all over again. There's nothing quite like it."

Benji, his face pressed close to the window, added, "Can we do this every day too, Daddy? Can we fly with you all the time?"

Tommy's heart swelled at the innocence of the request. If only it were that simple, he thought. But there was a world of responsibilities, of rules and regulations that governed his every move when he was on the clock. "I wish we could, buddy. But this is something special just for today. You gotta remember that I fly the chopper to help people, not for fun."

Emily's face scrunched up in thought before breaking into a bright smile. "Helping people is fun though! Right, Daddy?"

Tommy's eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at his daughter. "You're absolutely right, Em. There's no better feeling than knowing you've made a difference in someone's life."

Benji turned away from the window, his brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Have you ever saved someone really cool, like a superhero?"

Tommy laughed, his deep chuckle filling the cockpit. "Well, I don't know about superheroes, but I've helped plenty of people in tough spots. Remember when I told you about rescuing that hiker who got lost out on the trails?"

Both twins nodded eagerly, the memory of Tommy's (heavily watered down) story taking hold of them. It was a good story, too. The hiker had wandered off of the official trails, subsequently had taken a tumble down a small ravine, during which he'd broken one of his legs. His phone had survived the fall, and dispatch had managed to ping his general location, though actually finding the guy had been a chore and a half.

"But hey, maybe when you're a little older, we can fly together more often, and maybe even a little higher. How does that sound?"

Benji and Emily both cheered at that and began happily chatting to each other about their future exploits in the sky. Tommy shook his head at them with a smile as the helicopter began its descent, the patchwork of fields and houses growing larger, more distinct. Tommy expertly guided the chopper towards harbor station's tarmac, where he knew Evan was already waiting for them.

"For now though," he said as he slowly lowered the helicopter down onto the landing pad, "I have it on good authority that Papa is planning to take us to the beach right now!"

The helicopter touched down with a soft thud, and the gentle whirr of the rotors began to wind down. Tommy watched as Benji and Emily craned their necks to catch a glimpse of their Papa outside. Sure enough, Evan was standing on the edge of the tarmac, waving over at them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Look, it's Papa!" Benji shouted, practically bouncing in his seat. Emily was just as excited, her small hands pressed against the glass, her face lit up with joy.

Tommy chuckled and began the post-flight checks with practiced ease. "Alright, little adventurers, let's get you unbuckled and out of here," he said, flipping switches and pressing buttons to power down the helicopter. He then turned to help the twins out of their seatbelts, their small hands grabbing onto his as they clambered down from the co-pilot seat.

Evan was already at the helicopter's door by the time Tommy opened it, his clear blue eyes sparkling as he scooped both kids into a big bear hug. "How was your first flight, little monkeys? Or should I call you little eagles now?" he asked, a teasing edge in his voice as he gently noogied first Benji, and then Emily.

"I wanna be an eagle, yes!" Benji exclaimed, his face beaming brighter than the sun. "We saw everything from way up high! The trees, the houses, the roads, everything!"

Emily nodded vigorously in agreement. "And Daddy said we can fly with him more when we're older!"

Evan raised an eyebrow at Tommy, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Is that so? You're planning to turn them into little pilots already?"

Tommy shrugged with a grin. "Well, they seemed to enjoy it, so why not? But for now, I think a day at the beach is in order. What do you think?"

Benji and Emily immediately erupted into wild cheers, their excitement from the helicopter flight seamlessly transitioning into nigh unlimited energy for the beach. Evan laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, let's not keep the beach waiting, then. I've got the car ready, and I packed all the essentials—snacks, sunscreen, and of course, the sandcastle tools."

"Sandcastles!" Emily's eyes widened in delight, already taking off toward the parking lot. "I want to build the biggest castle ever!"

"And I'll dig a moat!" Benji added, already hot on his sister's heels.

Tommy and Evan exchanged amused glances as they watched the twins race ahead, their small legs moving with the kind of absurd speed that only five-year-olds could muster. Tommy felt a wave of contentment wash over him. He'd been through hell and back, had seen himself become the worst version imaginable, had fought against his own insecurities and doubts to build himself up into something presentable again. There was a time, after Trevor had died, where he'd thought he'd never be happy again. But now here he was. He was a husband. He was a father. He was happy.

As they walked toward the parking lot, Evan slipped his hand into Tommy's, giving it a gentle squeeze. "If this is how they react to the beach, what are they gonna do when we take them to the animal shelter tomorrow?"

Tommy chuckled, feeling the warmth of Evan's hand in his. "I think we might have to peel them off the walls when they see all the puppies and kittens," he replied, imagining the sheer chaos that would unfold the moment the twins would see the enclosures full of animals. The two had begged for a pet since they were three and learned to say "puppy" and "kitty," and now they were actually gonna get one? The screeching was going to be heard even over on the east coast.

Tommy didn't really mind, though. The kids screeching meant they were happy, and after everything he and Evan had been through in their childhood, he'd move hell and high water to make sure his children would have a good one.

"Come on, let's get them to the beach so they can burn off all their energy," Evan said, pulling Tommy with him. And as they reached the parking lot and helped Benji and Emily into their car seats, ruffling hair and talking silly all the while, Tommy let out a content sigh.

He was happy. Actually, truly happy. All the abuse, and abandonment, and heartbreak he'd been through had been absolutely worth it if this was his life forever now.

After all, he woke up every morning with a smile, and a face full of his Omega and children.

What more could he possibly ask for in life?