Chapter Text
The days are...blissful, with Eddie Diaz.
Sure, Buck's body still hurts down to his littlest pinky toe; painted in not-so-fun colors that never fails to bring a worried grimace to Eddie's face. His ribs aren't getting worse, but they're taking their damn sweet time getting better, which makes sleeping more of a wish and not a reality. The breathing exercises Eddie makes him do every morning suck.
The numerous abrasions that have scabbed over are itchy when they're not busy trying to get infected. No matter how carefully he moves, he always manages to break them open and impede the healing process.
He's a healthy, physically fit male but some days the stiffness and fatigue hit so sudden and hard that he doesn't make it more than a few steps anywhere.
That's not even to mention that his head hates every time he's vertical for too long, or even focusing too intently on anything for more than a few minutes. The headaches never completely ease off, which is really, just the cherry on top of all this sleep debt he's collecting.
But still, it's...nice.
Life has been pretty much been frequently go for Buck--always onto the next adventure or thing that catches his interest. This forced convalescence is...
Well, if he discards everything else about their situation, the company is fantastic.
And sure, he doesn't really know much about Eddie Diaz beyond the broad strokes of his history, but–it's actually good, somehow, every night by the fire, leaning into Eddie. It's easy and uncomplicated in a way his easy-breezy life has never been. Eddie is great company and an even better kisser.
Seriously, if he closes his eyes and shuts out the chatter of the other survivors, of the looming specter of the ex?wife Eddie doesn't like to talk about—nearly shuts down at the mention of—it's almost like they're on vacation instead of stranded on an island somewhere with a non-zero chance of rescue.
He’s never clicked with anyone on the level that he has with Eddie; never craved someone’s touch so much, never had to refrain so much—to keep his hands off this beautiful man. He feels like a teenager again, a child presented with the thing he wants most, wild delight suffusing every bit of him. Except he’d never had this, never had someone like this, even back then. Ever.
It’s because of this, because things have been going so wondrously that he's somehow not at all surprised when they wake up to shouting one morning. The shoe had to drop sometime. The mirage broken. The lie in paradise, even if Eddie isn’t. Wouldn’t. Won’t.
Hopefully.
Anyway.
He slowly trails Eddie to the gathering crowd, keeping well back out of the way under the shade of the nearest palm. He focuses on his breathing and sleepily admires the calm and confident way Eddie pushes through and takes charge. This makes it even harder to pay attention because he's too busy watching the face he's grown attached to. Eddie's face, that's now frowning in worry. Reluctantly, Buck forces his gaze away and listens.
The situation is this: the blond—Brittany, he amends—is missing, seen last the night before. The crowd tosses up theories and solutions, but Buck stays quiet, guilt and relief settling hand in hand at the thought of not having to put up with that dead stare.
She had been a dark cloud. A haunted shadow whose gaze barely wavered and hardly ever strayed from Eddie for too long. He understands it, doesn't even have to dig all that deep down because he can’t keep his eyes off Eddie either. But even then, it had been unsettling to Buck, who wasn’t even the focus. He can’t imagine what it was like for Eddie.
"You should stay." Eddie stops next to him, giving him a once-over. "You're still healing."
Buck shoots him an incredulous look and then sets his jaw mulishly. It's a minor point of contention, that Eddie treats him so delicately purely because he's a civilian (and maybe a little because he's still injured).
Eddie sighs, but doesn't say anything else. Buck beams at him and Eddie softens, gently pulling him into a brief side hug. The warmth of his arm around Buck’s waist lingers even after the man himself is gone.
If Buck wasn't starting to know Eddie, he'd almost be impressed by the speed in which they organize. Three people and two children stay behind to mind "camp" and tend the large signal bonfire they've kept burning. The remaining split into four groups of three. Joseph, one of their seasoned outdoor enthusiasts, talks briefly about the dangers of walking through the brush and, before he knows it, they're scattering into the jungle.
And okay, Buck is impulsive on a good day and this is--this is not a good day.
It's a weird juxtaposition going from breezy and open salted sea to this densely packed space. It's horribly humid in the jungle. His hair is immediately plastered to his head and he's practically bathing in his own sweat. The air feels like it's pressing down on him, constricting and heavy and he really wants out of nature's steam room except he's voluntarily here. His lungs feel compressed which is not helping his breathing at all.
And the bugs. Where the hell did they come from? If the beach is a tropical paradise, this place has to be a tropical hell. The buzz is bad enough, echoing aggravatingly in his ears, but the biting. Fuck's sake.
He regrets everything and he wants to be back at camp. He knows better than to say anything though, because Eddie will leave him behind. He gets it, even if it hurts. He's just a civilian--who's injured to boot, and Eddie's this bad ass veteran army medic, but Buck is nothing if not stubborn and so here they are, in the armpit of hell.
At least the going is slow enough. The view is very nice--Eddie's glistening tan and flexing muscles and confident grace is like something out of a movie. The glow surrounding him probably isn't completely a product of Buck's escalating migraine.
They don't even have actual tools--just ragged, salvaged parts of the plane, so clearing the trail is a dirty, all hands on deck type of situation. He would appreciate the blatant show more if he wasn't feeling so guilty for not being as helpful as he wants to be. His initial attempt had yielded both Eddie's actual angry face directed at him for the first time and a warning pulse of pain in his chest.
So he stands around, a keen eye on their surroundings while gingerly tossing the destroyed greenery left in Eddie's wake.
Like, where exactly could Brittany have gone? Honestly. How does a person go missing on a tropical island? How big is this island? In a small corner of his mind, he kind of thinks this is a huge waste of time. Brittany had looked barely a buck twenty soaking wet. In what world would she have had the fortitude to climb through this mess? They are literally sawing and tearing through the brush. What had Brittany done? Slither through it? He eyes the nearest tangle, face scrunching doubtfully. Maybe? It's not impossible. She was already suffering from trauma, what if she'd just completely gone around the bend? A deserted island version of cabin fever? Or something. He keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s definitely not an expert here and it's not helpful in any case.
They're hardly an hour in and he's flagging already despite his lack of actual contribution. His ribs aren't quite shifting with every step, but he's definitely reminded that they exist and that they're not quite healed. The faint wheeze starting to accompany every breath is also a little worrying. The palm he has pressed to his chest is barely helping anymore. His head has also started pounding, disruptive enough that the trees are wavering and his meager lunch wants to revisit. It's enough to keep him quiet, concentrating on keeping it all down, which in turn seems to actually draw Eddie's attention to him.
It's attention that's both wholly welcome and yet entirely unwelcome in the way that it grows increasingly concerned. Buck’s strained smiles are failed attempts at reassurance, judging by the way that expression lightens not one iota. It's for exactly this reason that he's glad there's a third person along with them to distract Eddie, even if she's someone he's uncertain about.
Okay, he'll admit, to himself at least, that the sight of her is bringing up unwelcome feelings that may or may not be jealousy.
Her name is Ana Flores and she's a grade school teacher who misses her children. They look good together working seamlessly to clear the path, dark heads tilted towards one another as she speaks and Eddie listens. It's an insidious thought that keeps surfacing no matter how much he tries to smother it.
Because she’s willingly here, zero complaints, trawling the jungle with them to search for someone who might not even want to be found.
And because Eddie’s not even the only one who checks back on Buck, who makes allowances for his injuries without judgment in kind brown eyes.
He's sure she's as human as the rest of them, but Ana Flores seems pretty close to perfect from where he's standing.
Almost as perfect as Eddie.
Which probably means they'd have perfect lives and perfect babies.
Buck exhales, flinching as his chest twinges again. Perfect.
Despite what are probably negligible age differences, he feels incredibly young next to them—especially the way he has to stifle this juvenile need to interject himself into a conversation he has absolutely no dog in. He’s spent much of his life traveling, exploring the nooks and crannies of the world, and next to these careered, veteran adults, well–he won’t say his time was wasted, but he can’t say there isn’t a little regret stirring. And as much as he loves kids, as much as he loves to hear about Eddie's kid, he has almost no experience with them, much less with parenting.
And Eddie, he's talked about Christopher, but not like this—with someone who understands, with bright laughter and amused fondness instead of solemn memory and quiet regret. Buck's not quite sure what it means. Maybe they'll get there one day, but that seems incredibly distant a dream all of a sudden. He hopes, anyway, even as Eddie laughs again and something else in Buck's chest sinks.
He stifles it even further because he knows. He knows Eddie doesn't owe him anything. They've spent some pretty idyllic hours together in this dreamy paradise, but maybe that's all it is—just a dream. Maybe this tryst is destined to be as transient as all the rest of his relationships.
Who is Eddie Diaz, really, beneath the whole survivor-hero facade? Except this isn't even his first foray into heroism is it? Or even into survival. Buck doesn’t even have the entire story, but they probably don’t pin a Silver Star to your chest for no reason.
And who is Buck to measure up to this shining example? What qualifications does he possess to even stand next to him?
How dare he envy?
He didn't even think he was the possessive type, but there's just something about the image in front of him, about the bond forming right before his eyes that he can't share or be a part of, that tugs painfully at his heart and threatens to unravel it. The abandonment issues he doesn’t think about and denies having drag to the forefront.
It hurts, just a little, and isn't that just the stupidest thing?
Or it could just be his injuries, he thinks ruefully, as yet another twinge in his chest is finally enough to make him stop. He braces on the nearest tree and tries to pull slow, deep breaths to ease the tightness. The humidity of the day presses in like a particularly dense cloud, making even that tiny action a struggle. Whatever the case, he doesn't manage to recover fast enough before Eddie notices and rushes back.
Buck hates himself just a little bit more for it.
"Are you okay?" Eddie is definitely upset, lips pressed and eyes hot, but both his question and the hand he lays on Buck's shoulder are gentle.
He blinks away the sudden urge to cry and quirks a smile, trying to inhale steadily through his nose and not gasp for air like a degenerate. "Gonna say I told you so?"
Eddie shakes his head but doesn't answer, expression unreadable no matter how long Buck looks. "Come on. Have a seat. Slow, deep breaths. We'll head back to camp when you feel better." He offers himself as a stabilizing force, helping Buck settle down against a tree.
He complies without protest, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic grin at Ana. "Sorry."
She smiles at him, completely, horribly understanding, and shakes her head. “Present company takes priority, don't you think?”
She's so goddamn nice, he thinks glumly, why is she so freaking nice.
Why is he so useless?
The walk back isn’t any easier, despite his little break and the cleared path. His pulse rushes in his ears, sluggish yet loud. He concentrates on one step at a time, on Eddie’s arm around his waist, and on making it back without being any more of a nuisance.
They're not the only ones back from the jungle. One of the other teams has also returned with an ankle sprain injury.
Eddie helps him settle down in their usual "spot" and presses a brief kiss to his sweaty forehead. He barely notices it, desperately swallowing the saliva flooding his mouth because he knows what comes after it. He won't throw up. He fucking won't. He's done (not) enough today and this will not be his contribution.
"Please rest. I don't want you to aggravate anything." Else goes unsaid. And damn Eddie Diaz, because the concerned droop of those eyes are lethal. He couldn't have done better if he'd held a puppy in front of Buck. Self-recrimination and resentment war in his chest.
"That's really not fair you know," he finally manages. At Eddie's confused look, he clarifies, "the puppy dog look."
Eddie's eyes light briefly with humor, but a serious expression settles and he gathers both of Buck's hands. "Please. Please rest. Hydrate in small sips. I’ll be back as soon as I can."
Buck sighs, resignation and exhaustion creeping in now that he lets it, and offers a small smile. "Look at me, sitting down and everything. I'll be good. I promise."
The wide smile he gets in return is small consolation for the relief he sees in it. Eddie drops another kiss on his forehead alongside a murmured thank you, squeezes his hands again, and then he's up and away.
He watches Eddie go with something hollow in his chest, and not a little bit of frustration, before his head forces him to lay down. He covers his eyes with his hand to hide from the increasingly bright day, but it barely helps. His pulse grows louder, pounding hard enough just behind his eyes that tears well.
He's not being stubborn on purpose. He can handle himself. He just needed a break. He's also an adult and if he wants to suffer while walking beside the object of his increasing affections, then it's no one's business but his own, is it?
Despite his best efforts, and even if he's physically less miserable, he grows increasingly despondent as the day goes on and there's no sign of Eddie returning. He doesn't think about how it's because he's with Ana.
What's Eddie doing with him anyway? He's clinging on, isn't he, for survival. Just like Brittany wanted to, and isn't that just the worst? He barely recognizes who he is. The Buck he used to be had traveled independently for nearly six years, adequately taking care of himself and slipping in and out of countries on a whim while making friends everywhere at the drop of a hat. This post plane crash Buck has barely spoken to anyone besides Eddie--has barely an interest to--just fixating on this one single man.
It's pathetic. He's pathetic—and everyone probably knows it.
He stirs when a warm arm wraps around his torso and a hard body leans up behind him. It's grown dark somehow, while he's been sulking. There's a knot still stuck in his throat.
"Hey," Eddie murmurs in his ear. The weight of his warmth fully settles behind Buck. "How are you feeling? Better?" A soft kiss is pressed into his hair.
He has to swallow several times as he mulls it over. "I'm okay." For a given definition, anyway. "I just don't wanna hold you back, you know?" The words burst from him unbidden, almost desperate, before he can reign them back.
Because he is. He is and it sucks.
Eddie's hold loosens, and he tugs on a shoulder until he has Buck carefully on his back and staring up at a frowning face. He studies that face, traces the gentle curve of dark eyes and the equally dark fan of unfairly long lashes, the arched slope of that nose and the sharp bow of lips he now knows the shape of even with his eyes closed. He thinks, for the millionth time, that Eddie is so, so beautiful.
So perfect.
"I have no doubt that if needed, you would carry me." Eddie's tone is unbearably gentle. Everything blurs as inexplicable tears leak down the sides of Buck's face. He's so, so pathetic.
"I know you've got my back, and I have yours. All this muscle has to be good for something," Eddie teases, squeezing a bicep before reaching up to brush away his tears, which honestly just makes Buck want to cry more.
He laughs wetly, lifting his arms and pulling Eddie down on top of him, squeezing him for all he's worth.
Maybe he doesn't deserve this man, but he'll try his best.
"You're okay," Eddie says softly. "We're okay." Soft lips linger against his temple. Eddie carefully settles his weight, mindful of Buck's ribs. It's grounding; settles some of the throbbing in his head if not his body.
They stay like that for the rest of the night.
When the sun rises the next day, after Eddie's kissed him goodbye and he's had his (not very long) sulk, he sets about being better. His ribs are the angry sort of sore from yesterday's ill-advised excursion, so since he's also banned from anything required to keep them all fed and hydrated and actually alive, he does the next best thing.
He settles in with his injury buddy and introduces himself.
"Ali Martin," she says, shaking his hand. She's pretty. Dark hair is scraped up off her neck with knotted fabric and dark eyes sparkle despite the exhausted shadows still lingering in their depths. Her ankle sits stretched out and elevated in front of her. "And that's Samantha. I'm on watch duty." Samantha is a tiny little thing of maybe six or seven years old. Her pigtails bounce as she runs back and forth happily between two different piles of rocks and shells that he can't discern between. "Sammy!"
She stops immediately and looks towards them, curious.
"Sammy, come meet my friend, Buck."
She actually skips towards them, this bright little ball of sunshine. He can't even help the smile. "Hey, Sammy. Nice to meet you." He's never so keenly felt his size before. The tiny hand he shakes feels utterly fragile in his. Bright hazel eyes, almost obscured by wispy brown bangs, stare solemnly up at him for almost a full minute before she hands him a seashell.
"Uh, thanks. Thank you for the gift, Samantha. It's really pretty."
A shy smile rounds those chubby cheeks and then she's gone, back to her game with his heart firmly in her pocket.
"Wow," Ali says dryly. "You got a shell and a smile. I got tears the first time I was introduced to her." Her smile fades a little. "Of course, we were all still dealing with the crash, then."
He watches that adorable little girl and doesn't have to ask to know her parents probably didn't make it off that plane, or at least, didn't make it onto the island. He fingers the ridges of the broken shell, tries not to think about what an apt metaphor it is, and tucks it away.
"How are you doing? And welcome to the injured list."
She makes a face. "It sucks. Everything sucks."
"It does. But hey, it could be worse--at least it's not broken, right?" She slants him an unamused look and he smiles, sheepish. "Silver linings and all."
She heaves a sigh. "I just really wish some of the drink cart had survived. Like, was that too much to ask for? Or actual painkillers. I would kill for actual painkillers. I've got a headache like you wouldn't believe."
He laughs. "You and me both, Ali."
And it's nice. He's forgotten how nice it is to make friends. Or maybe it's just Ali that's nice, because they're both laughing when another of their camp mates comes by to scream at them.
She's an older woman, graying hair almost unkempt and hawk-thin face ruddy with rage. He's not even sure what she's upset about; watches wide-eyed as she gesticulates with enough force that Samantha is hiding behind Buck. And then the woman bursts into tears, sobbing into her hands until another woman with very similar features, if paler and even more thin, comes to coax her away with a small, apologetic grimace towards them.
He looks at Ali, eyes wide.
"Veronica, and Janice." Ali watches the two women, solemn and sad. "Janice's husband didn't make it and Veronica, her sister, has been sick--some kind of cancer—so being here—" she exhales, "let's just say it's not doing her any good. Janice isn't coping very well with any of this, at all."
"Who is?" Is his soft rejoinder. They’re the lucky ones, he remembers.
The smile Ali gives him is sly. "I don't know, you seem to be doing pretty well.”
He flushes, sputtering as Ali breaks into laughter.
They don't find Brittany.
By the third day of searching, even the most skeptical has admitted defeat.
Eddie is the lone holdout, brooding and quiet when the group vote has the search called off after the second sprained ankle and a possibly fractured tibia. Despite the seeming lack of large natural predators, the jungle itself is apparently a nightmare to traverse the deeper in they go and the scavenged plane parts aren’t hacking it, quite literally.
He doesn't know what to do about this Eddie who is closed off and yet not at the same time, who smiles and even laughs but whose eyes are troubled and far away. He's never really had a functional relationship beyond one night stands, even if they weren't stranded on an island, and before that he'd only really had his sister...and even she had shut him out, in these later years.
He doesn't imagine Eddie's willing to talk it out like Maddie and, as expected, is summarily shut down when he tries. It still hurts a little, watching Eddie tuck away his thoughts, his feelings, somewhere that Buck can't reach. There's a helpless bubble of frustration slowly expanding in his chest. Really, he can deal with whatever truths Eddie is worrying at like a particularly stubborn dog on a bone. Wouldn't it just feel better to get it off his chest?
He stays occupied the best he can, spending time with his injured cohorts. Their injury party now includes Hilde and Marc, who are older than both him and Ali and full of stories. They’re travelers, like him. Kindred spirits that have been walking this Earth before he was even born.
“Maybe I should take up backpacking, too.” Ali looks wistful, leaning into Hilde while the woman strokes her hair. “My new client is kind of a dick. He’s a few backhanded compliments and lingering touches away from being dropped. The only reason I haven't yet is because he technically hasn't crossed any lines.”
“Just do it. Gotta grab life by the balls and all.” Marc waggles his eyebrows, grinning.
“That is terrible,” Ali protests, but she's smiling.
“Alternatively, you can just kick them.”
There's a beat as they take in Hilde's serious tone and flat expression before she cracks a smile and sets them all laughing.
Yeah, Buck likes his new friends.
But despite his efforts, he can't help but notice that the longer he stays away, the further Eddie seems to slip--and the bigger the knot of anxiety in Buck’s chest grows.
Eventually, Buck concedes something like defeat. He doesn’t remember what the world was like, without Eddie, and doesn’t want to go back now. And maybe this will explode in his face, but he’s going to dive in anyway and damn the consequences.
“Okay, Eddie.” Buck plants himself beside his—his what? Boyfriend? Paramour? Lover? He shakes himself, moving past that hiccup and wraps himself around Eddie’s arm like a koala.
The dark eyes that glance at him are half fond and mostly amused, but there’s still that dullness—a darkness lurking that hasn't completely dissipated.
He lays his head down on Eddie’s shoulder, telling himself he’s not so much avoiding the eye contact than he is hopefully giving Eddie space to talk.
“Please talk to me. You said everything was fine, but I’m not blind. You’re unhappy, and that makes me unhappy. I gave you space since you didn't seem to want to talk about it, but it’s not getting any better. So, let’s talk about it.”
The shift of muscle under his hands is a bad sign. Eddie’s tense, on alert, and he doesn’t seem like he’s relaxing. He’s also not pulling away, which Buck will take as a positive. The silence stretches as Buck gazes at the horizon, the sun, the sky, the flock of seagulls dive bombing further down the beach--anything but the man next to him.
“Okay,” he continues, still reluctant but needing to push on. “Maybe you can listen, instead.” He lifts his head and shifts just enough to face Eddie. “Are you listening?” This time he waits for actual eye contact. “It's not your fault." He waits a beat. "She’s not your responsibility, Eddie. She made her choices.”
An exasperated look. “She didn’t make the choice to get lost in the jungle, Buck.”
“She made the choice to walk off into an unknown and possibly dangerous place, by herself. I'm not blaming her, but there are consequences for that. You’ve done everything you could. That's all anyone can ask.”
Eddie shakes his head. "Diminished capacity. We all knew she wasn't dealing well with the trauma. We should have done something." I should have done something, Buck hears.
"That's not on any of us, and it's not even true. You were kind. You didn't just ignore her. You tried, multiple times, to direct her to—yes, I saw. You did. And even when you didn't, she was offered support by nearly everyone else. You saw that, too. We're all supporting each other any way we can. But that's not even the issue anymore. That's done with, whether or not we should or could have done more. The issue is we've looked for her, Eddie. Three people have been hurt now in the process, and here, that can mean life or death. That's not a small thing."
Another tense shift of muscle.
"It's not her fault, I know. But it's not ours, either, and it's not yours. We've done everything we can." Buck holds Eddie's gaze for a beat, to make sure the message is well and truly delivered, before his eyes drop--just in time to see Eddie's hands curl slowly into fists. Buck frowns.
“I know,” Eddie finally says, hard and low. He sighs, and then repeats, softer, “I know.”
Somehow, the admission doesn’t feel like a win.
And it isn't, when he wakes up a few days later to find Eddie packed and ready to go.
For a moment, he can’t comprehend just what it is he’s seeing; just what it is exactly that is happening in front of him. When it hits him—
"Were you hoping to be gone before I woke up?"
Eddie actually startles, a caught out look on his face. "No," comes the immediate reply. "No. I would never just leave. I was going to talk to you."
There's relief, because he knows Eddie isn't that kind of person. Shame, because he still thought it anyway. And defensiveness, because it's happened before. It's apparently happening now. It's what people do.
Nobody ever stays.
He looks down, abandonment and betrayal warring in his chest. There's a new, blooming fear of Eddie alone out there, lost and hurt, too. But he recognizes his failure in alleviating any of Eddie's guilt. This man. A part of him feels like a monster for even considering trying to talk Eddie out of this; for putting priority on one life over another. Unworthy. Because he's not entirely sure if he's right. Because that ugly part of him that had been relieved when she'd gone missing is still irrationally blaming her for putting them here and still hates her, at least a little, for dragging Eddie down with her.
But if Eddie is determined to go, well…he's not ready to let him go. Not ready to see him hurt even more over this.
Eddie shifts closer and takes a hand. Cool fingers slide under his chin, cradling his jaw and gently forcing him to look up.
"I'm sorry," he says, regretful, "but someone has to look for her."
He's not even sure what he's more upset about. That Eddie was going to leave him behind. That Eddie was likely going to stubbornly keep going after her alone no matter what anyone else thought.
"What if you get hurt? We don't even know what else is out there."
"Isn't that also exactly right? Isn't it about time to see what else is on the island, anyway? What if civilization is just on the other side? Buck—" Eddie stares earnestly into Buck’s eyes. “I would do the same for you.”
Buck’s mouth opens, closes, and then he sets his jaw.
"Let me go with you."
The way Eddie's face shuts down completely at that suggestion makes his chest hurt. And that's just--galling. The thread of irritation weaves up his spine. "So when it’s your life, it’s okay, but when I want to put my life on the line, it’s somehow unacceptable."
He gets a flat stare in response. "You're just going to hurt yourself. It hasn't nearly enough time for you to have recovered fully." You're going to hold me back, is all he hears.
He volleys with another glare. "Then wait for me to recover."
The worried expression is back on that face, and Buck looks away because it stings something fierce. He is capable. He can do this. Would they even be having this conversation if he'd already made it to Los Angeles and done his LAFD training before this flight?
Don't leave me behind, he wants to say. I want to have your back, too.
But…he shouldn't be like this, should he? He shouldn't be so clingy. Not to Eddie, who can take care of himself and doesn't need Buck at all and is seemingly perfectly fine with leaving him behind.
There are more important things to worry about, like a woman who is missing and possibly in danger even if she’s probably dead and a man who is determined to search for her come hell or high water and there's no space for him to be so—so clingy. Pathetic. God. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. He forces himself to let go of Eddie, forces himself to—to draw back and away, jaw working at the loss, at the hole in his chest.
"Do what you feel you need to." He carefully climbs to his feet and walks away. People make their own choices. Brittany made hers. Eddie is making his, and so Buck has to also. There’s a sob stuck in his throat that is threatening to come out. It's time for retreat.
He wades out into the water, letting the warm tropical current swirl around his calves. He lets his head drop back, hands on his hips and shifting to keep balance as the sand beneath his feet is carried away with every wave. His eyes are burning as he sucks in deep breaths to hopefully keep tears at bay.
It is rather arrogant of Eddie, isn't it, to assume he alone could find what days and teams of searching hadn't. Arrogant of Eddie to march into that unknown with the assumption that nothing will happen to him and no one at his back in case something does and then what would Buck do. So arrogant and so goddamn selfless.
Unlike Buck, who's selfish enough to put his own fears and worries over someone's life. It's not fair. It's not fair. But they crash landed on an island and they haven't been rescued even weeks in and all of this should really be so pale in the face of that.
It's selfish of him to resent this woman who put them all in this position, even if she is, was, unwell.
It's selfish to cling to someone so good.
Buck really needs to stop being so selfish.
He doesn't turn at the gentle splashes behind him, but he does give into the arms that circle his waist, hugging him closer. Eddie hooks his chin over Buck's shoulder and he tilts his head to press into that dark head of hair.
For a moment they just stand, Buck and Eddie, and everything is perfect.
This was nice, while it lasted. He thinks that even as he resolves to let go of this man he's starting to need like air, because he shouldn't hold him back; shouldn't be the kind of person that's so reluctant to save a person's life that needed it. He wants to be a firefighter, for godssake. He should be better.
"I know that she's running out of time. I just--I'm worried. What if something happens to you? We're already three injuries in."
"I can take care of myself."
"I know you can."
Buck takes a breath. He can do it. He can let go. Eddie can take care of himself. He'll be fine. Buck is being irrational.
Instead, Eddie makes a surprising concession. "I'll keep searching close to camp—"
"Not alone," Buck interjects immediately, relief bursting through and leaving him damp-eyed.
"Not alone," Eddie says agreeably, "And then when you're feeling better, we'll explore the deeper parts of the island, together. See if we can make it to the other side."
A weight is lifted off his chest, and he sags into Eddie's hold. Everything is right. Everything feels light.
"I'm sorry," he says after a while. “I’m really not—I don't want you to feel like you need to—” choose, he can't quite say. He doesn’t understand at all where this is coming from. Would he even have cared if any of the others had decided to keep searching? If the jungle already hadn't shown him it could kick his ass with little effort, wouldn't he also still be out there? Buck is really such a hypocrite.
Eddie tightens his hug.
"You don't need to be sorry. I like that you’re honest, open, in a way that I should try to emulate. I always want to know what you're thinking, even if it's unhappy." A soft kiss on his neck. "Not to mention, we’ve all experienced a major trauma. And you're still recovering from a concussion. It's likely affecting mood...and I don't want to add to your worries."
Buck laughs wetly. "I hate it. I don't know how you're putting up with me."
Another brush of soft lips. Buck shudders.
"And I'm sorry." Eddie's voice is low, words nearly pressed into his skin like a confession. "I don't…it's one of the reasons why my marriage—" a hard exhale. "Because I make decisions without…adequately considering how deeply they can affect anyone else.
Surviving a helicopter crash had maybe put some things into perspective for me. And I'm…I'm trying. I'm learning. I was learning, at least where my son is concerned. And now…I have you. I care about you—more than I thought possible for how short we've known each other. And I'm sorry I didn't consider how my choices would affect you."
His head is quiet. His eyes are wide. He has no words.
He thinks it's the first time in memory anyone besides Maddie has ever apologized to him. Or considered him important enough to factor into their decisions. To choose him.
And Buck, he—he thinks he loves this man. Isn't that just the most frightening thing of all?
They stand for a minute more, balancing against the pull of the endless ocean before Eddie releases him. He searches Buck's face, the worried regret in dark eyes only easing when Buck offers him a small smile.
When he tugs them back towards shore, Buck easily follows.
It's so warm out here in the sun, walking behind Eddie.