Chapter Text
It starts like this: the beginning of summer and the end, or what felt like it at the time, of Eddie Diaz's life as he knew it. With Eddie being caught by his son and girlfriend with a woman who was a doppelganger for his late wife. With his parents taking Christopher to El Paso and leaving him alone to deal with the implosion of his life.
But it really starts like this:
He hears footsteps creeping closer to his room, considering his phone is currently a dead brick in his top dresser drawer, and the person who was most likely trying to reach him is the only person with a key to his house-
"It looks awful in here." Buck opens his door with no warning, referring to the beer bottles and dirty laundry and other shit Eddie hasn't been bothered to pick up in the last week. "C'mon, get up."
He doesn't respond, rolling over in his comforter, content to ignore Buck into leaving the mess both his room and life have become. He feels the right side of his bed dip as Buck sighs, "Eddie."
He sits up at that, cradling his face in his hands as he uses what feels like the last dredges of energy in his body to tell Buck, "Please leave."
"No."
Eddie can't face him yet, can't make eye contact yet because- because he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve to look into his best friend's eyes and see understanding, or sympathy, or anything but contempt after blowing up every other good thing in his life. He rakes a hand through his hair, "Just leave me alone, Buck."
It comes out less demanding and lands right on the side of pleading.
Buck doesn't falter. "Look, you don't have to talk about it right now or deal with it at all today. I'm just asking you to get out of bed, get dressed, go outside - something." He puts his arms behind his head now, elbow gently digging into Eddie's ribs as he lies down opposite to him, making a show of getting comfortable, "Or we can stay here. I don't have plans."
And of course, Buck doesn't push, doesn't rush him, just gives Eddie a steady lifeline as he drowns in the depths of his self-pity. Eddie never knows what to do with Buck's kindness, his unwavering loyalty to him, even when any sane person would have left him to his own self-destruction. He breathes, feeling gratitude so sharp and bright it overpowers his grief for a fraction of a second, and tilts his head to look Buck in the eyes, "Fine."
⸻
They're on Eddie's back porch, forgoing chairs to sit on the splintering wood and feel the overgrowing grass directly between their toes. It's one of the rare nice days of an LA summer, the air not too humid or dry, the sun not blistering hot but a nice steady heat on Eddie's skin. He should have put on sunscreen, he thinks belatedly, he's always telling Christopher about the importance of healthy skin, but he forgot to put on sunscreen while he bakes directly in the afternoon sun.
He guesses it doesn't really matter now.
Eddie knows he shouldn't, but all he can think about is Christopher at his parents' house, if he's miserable and hating him, if he's happy, if anyone cares enough to remind him to put on sunscreen.
"You know I didn't mean to hurt him," Eddie says into the silence blanketing them, palm growing damp from the condensation of the beer he forgets to drink, "I fucked up."
Buck hums, "You did."
"I'm a terrible father, I'm a terrible person, how could I bring her over here knowing-"
"Eddie"
"I'm fucking broken, man. Maybe Christopher should've left sooner."
"Eddie, look at me. Please." Buck turns to look him directly in the eye, pressing their knees together as if trapping him there, "You fucked up, you hurt Chris and you hurt Marisol. But you are not a terrible dad. You made a mistake, and you can fix it with Christopher because you care enough to let him have space."
Eddie nods as if he believes any of that; Buck sighs as if he can read Eddie's mind, "Look, you don't have to believe me, but I know what it's like to have a terrible dad, and you are not one. You can see that you hurt your son, but you're trying to fix it. That's more than I can say for my dad."
The following silence isn't uncomfortable, simply full of the words said, and unsaid. Buck takes a sip of his beer, wiping his hand on his jeans, a nervous gesture signaling the uncomfortable question he's about to ask, "Can I ask why you did it?"
Eddie laughs then, short and self-deprecating, "It's stupid."
"Try me."
"We were at the aquarium, me, Marisol, and Chris, and I saw her working. Kim. I felt like I was 18 again. She just looked exactly like her, and I thought maybe, maybe this was my second chance. Maybe I could get it right this time."
Eddie scrubs at his eyes and laughs humorlessly again, "I know it makes no sense."
"No, I get it."
Eddie gives him a sidelong look, and Buck backtracks, "Well, I get it as much as someone with no kids and has never been married can." He winces as his slightly too harsh words and takes another pull from his beer.
"You wanted your family back."
⸻
Which is how Eddie finds himself booking an emergency appointment with Frank a few days later at Buck's suggestion, pacing in the waiting room, hearing his shoes scuff the cheap linoleum. He shouldn't even be here, yes he made a mistake but he didn't need to waste another person's time with his bullshit, he definitely didn't need more therapy after-
Frank's voice stills his thoughts, "Eddie?"
Eddie follows Frank into his office, pocketing his keys and sitting down on the familiar, if not uncomfortable, chair.
He begins to unravel for Frank the absolute mess his life had become, from first seeing Kim to them starting to hang out, and finally to Kim showing up, deranged and in a terrible wig, attempting to give Eddie some odd form of grief counseling. Frank raises one eyebrow and jots down a few notes without comment.
He fidgets in his seat, not knowing where to go from here, simultaneously wanting someone to repeat the mantra in his head and tell him what a shitty father he is, while also knowing therapy was supposed to help him feel better.
Frank leans forward in his chair. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Does it matter if I say yes?"
He chuckles in that way he does when Eddie is joking-but-not-really-joking in their sessions, "Why did you marry Shannon?"
Eddie immediately bristles, both at the mention of his late wife and the question, "Because I loved her. What kind of question is that?"
"I'm not questioning if you loved her, I asked why you married her." He sets his notes aside, looking him straight in the eye, "I'm asking what about that marriage you wanted to replicate with Kim?"
"I didn't want to replicate anything with Kim, I-I made a mistake, but I just wanted a second chance."
Frank's eyebrow twitches at that, "Second chance at what exactly?"
Eddie sighs, he knows this tone; he knows Frank already knows the answer, but wants to hear him say it out loud. There's a beat of silence, then-
"We didn’t get it right the first time, me and Shannon. Or maybe I never did. I was never there and when I was..."
Eddie shakes his head, remembering the countless fights he and Shannon had about practically everything when he wasn't deployed, "Christopher never had a stable life, I could never give him the structure he needed even when I was there."
Frank hums, "So, you wanted a second chance at giving Christopher a two-parent home?"
"I guess so."
"You still never answered my question."
Why did he marry Shannon? There was no question why he loved her: she was his best friend, she was funny, she never judged him or pressured him to be something he wasn't. But those weren't reasons for why they got married, and when Eddie thought about it, thought about the foundation they built their marriage on, he realizes maybe there wasn't one to begin with.
"I had to," Eddie doesn't know where that comes from, but he can't seem to stop talking, "What else was I supposed to do? My parents were already pissed, we weren't even out of high school yet and she was pregnant."
He remembers the cheap, thrown-together wedding his parents and Shannon's mom set up right after he proposed so she wouldn't be showing in the pictures. He remembers his dad angry, screaming about how Eddie had ruined his future, how it was his responsibility to step up and be a man, to marry Shannon and provide for their kid.
A little, quiet, more bitter part of Eddie thinks his marriage made him less of a disappointment to them, brought less shame to his family. He might be a teen dad, but hey at least he didn't have a child out of wedlock.
Frank sighs, apparently deciding to put Eddie out of his misery and explain the questions, "Look, from what you've told me today, I see someone who will do anything for his son, to provide for his family, or appease his parents."
"Even with Kim, as misguided an attempt to process your grief as it was, you were trying to give your son a second chance with his mother. You married Shannon to make your parents happy, and you enlisted to provide for her and your son. But when in the past 12 years have you done something for yourself, just because you wanted to do it?"
Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it. Very gracefully and not at all fish-like. Isn't "doing things for himself" what got him into this mess in the first place? Didn't doing something for himself always come with this kind of cost?
⸻
Per usual, therapy leaves Eddie feeling like he's been skinned alive: mentally exhausted and emotionally raw. He makes a stop at the nearest Walmart for something or other he needed...socks? Dish soap? It was hard to remember things past the cloud of guilt and memories fogging his thoughts.
He finds himself in the gardening section, way at the very back with the clear glass and the rows upon rows of twisting, vibrant, hanging plants and flowers; bright yellow, red, and pink blossoming flowers reminding him that despite the heaviness in his life, it was, in fact, still summertime. The air was thick with mulch and fertilizer, thick full bags of each lining the walkway as he maneuvered around, trying to find whatever it was that pulled him here.
Then he sees it: rows of seeds begging to be planted and cared for. Eddie's transported suddenly to his Abuela's garden back in El Paso, the hours and hours he would spend as a child planting seeds, or tilling the soil, or the various other odds and ends she'd have him do. He remembers thinking her garden must have magic, or maybe that was just his Abuela: everything she planted would sprout and bear fruit, whether it was her bright squashes, strong carrots, fragrant basil, or the lemon trees across from the crops; everything in her backyard was lively, teeming with fruit. Her prized fruit, however, was her row of tomatoes, seemingly always ripe and ready to be washed, diced, and roasted. Eddie spent his days sitting in that garden in awe, unable to keep anything he planted alive. His Abuela would patiently pick her tomatoes, patting his cheek as she passed, assuring him it just wasn't time for those plants to bloom.
He hadn't been there since he was what, 7 or 8 years old? One day, he was planting tomatoes, and the next he had another baby sister, his father was never around, his mother was drowning in work, and his family needed him to step up and be the man of the house.
This was silly. It was stupid, really. But, there was something in him that was drawn to those damn tomato seeds, something in him that made him buy them as he made is way out the store and back to his truck. Eddie didn't know the reason. Maybe there was no reason, but he couldn't quiet Frank's voice in his head telling him to do something for himself.
As he's opening his phone for what seems like the first time all day to type 'how to grow tomatoes' into his search bar, he sees the 50+ unread messages from the 118 & Family group chat in his notifications. That many notifications wasn't abnormal as the chat was always active with Ravi sending memes or Maddie and Hen discussing drama, but the recent emergency had Eddie on edge these days. Scrolling through the messages, he sees Athena and Bobby talking about their plans to find a new home after their old one, well, burned down a few weeks ago. Maddie sends them a link to the realtor she and Chim used when they were house hunting, Karen asks them questions about the kind of place they're looking for, and Ravi offers them a condo to... rent. Right. He forgot about the land-lording thing.
Finally, scrolling to the recent messages, Eddie sees Buck offering his loft to Bobby and Athena for temporary housing so they don't have to keep spending money on hotels. They refuse profusely, but Buck insists, claiming his loft "didn't feel like home to him", and "he had nothing keeping him there", and "he had been looking at new places for a while".
Jesus Christ.
Eddie was a terrible friend. He didn't even know Buck wanted to move, let alone was looking for other places to rent, too blinded by his own issues to ask about Buck's life. His thoughts start to spiral into an idea so insane he doesn't want to entertain it.
However, turning over the tomato seed packets in his hand, he can't help but think an insane idea might be what they both need right now.
Eddie hearts the messages in the main group chat, so Buck knows he saw them, then pulls up their individual text chain to ask him a simple question:
You wanna move in with me?