Chapter Text
The firehouse had been quiet all morning—quiet in the kind of way that made Eddie suspicious. He’d been around long enough to know that calm never lasted. Calm meant the universe was waiting for its cue to pull the rug out from under them.
Buck didn’t seem to mind. He was perched on the edge of the couch in the loft, halfway through some story about his neighbor’s dog and how it had “definitely tried to bite him” when, really, Eddie was ninety-nine percent sure the thing was just excited to see him. Buck had that effect on creatures—dogs, cats, kids. People too, if Eddie was honest.
“—and then, right when I thought I was safe, it launches at me. Like, teeth bared, fangs the size of knives—” Buck gestured with his hands, animated, his grin threatening to split his face.
Hen didn’t look up from her magazine. “Teacup Yorkie, wasn’t it?”
Chim snorted. “The same one you let lick peanut butter off your hand last week?”
“That was a peace offering,” Buck defended, scandalized. “We’re working on building trust.”
“Sure,” Hen said dryly. “And it almost ended with you needing stitches.”
Eddie let himself smile, just barely. It was easy to. That was the problem. Buck made things easy—even when Eddie was trying his damnedest not to let it happen.
Before Buck could argue further, the alarm rang, sharp and echoing through the bay. Eddie’s pulse spiked on instinct.
“Structure fire,” Bobby’s voice came quick and steady, already pulling up the details from dispatch. “Industrial warehouse, reports of workers trapped inside.”
Just like that, the lazy warmth of the loft was gone. Everyone moved in sync—grabbing gear, helmets, radios. The ritual was second nature. Eddie pulled on his turnout coat, tightening straps until the weight settled heavy on his shoulders. His gloves, his mask clipped to his belt. Buck was right beside him, all frenetic energy, like he was born to run headfirst into danger.
Eddie’s chest squeezed. He shoved the feeling down and followed Bobby out to the truck.
⸻
The engine roared to life. Eddie climbed into his usual seat, tugging the strap across his chest. The smell of diesel and smoke clung faintly to everything, permanent. The city blurred past the windows as the siren wailed, cutting through the traffic ahead.
“Bet you five bucks it’s electrical,” Chim said from the jump seat, grinning.
“Gas leak,” Hen countered, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Both wrong,” Buck piped up, bouncing slightly with the motion of the truck. “It’s arson. Mark my words.”
Eddie shook his head, unable to stop himself. “Why are you making bets on other people’s bad day?”
“Because,” Buck shot back with a smirk, “I like being right.”
Hen rolled her eyes. “You like being loud.”
Chim chimed in, “I’m just impressed you’ve managed to keep track of which end of the hose is which this week.”
“Ha, ha,” Buck said flatly, but Eddie caught the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to laugh.
Eddie pressed his gloved hand to his thigh, grounding himself. He should be focusing on the call—running through the procedures, planning ahead—but his mind kept drifting sideways. To Buck’s laugh. To the way Buck fidgeted with the strap of his helmet when he thought no one was watching. To the nagging ache in Eddie’s chest that never seemed to let up, not really.
He told himself it was just the adrenaline. It always was.
⸻
The warehouse was already belching smoke when they arrived, black plumes clawing up into the sky. Heat shimmered off the pavement as Eddie swung down from the rig, his boots hitting hard. The acrid tang of burning chemicals hit his nose, even through the mask clipped at his side.
Bobby started barking orders, sharp and precise. “Hen, Chim, secure triage. Buck, Eddie—you’re with me. Reports say two workers unaccounted for.”
“Copy,” Eddie said, his voice tight. Buck echoed him, almost too eager.
They advanced toward the building, masks down, hoses at the ready. The heat inside was suffocating, oppressive, like stepping into another world. Flames licked at the rafters, smoke curling thick and mean. Eddie’s pulse thrummed in his ears, each step a battle to keep his breathing steady.
He kept Buck in his peripheral the whole time. Couldn’t not. Buck moved like he always did—reckless grace, fearless to the point of stupidity. Eddie wanted to shake him and hold him in the same breath.
They pushed deeper into the maze of smoke and metal. Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio, grounding them, guiding them. Eddie’s muscles ached under the weight of gear, but he didn’t slow. Couldn’t.
“Over here!” Buck shouted, pointing toward a shadow slumped against a support beam. Together, they hauled the first worker out, dragging him into clearer air. Eddie barely registered the EMTs rushing forward before they were back inside again, searching for the second.
The smoke grew heavier, hotter, pressing against his skin. His lungs burned. He forced himself forward.
And then—
The groan of metal overhead. The sickening crack of something giving way. Eddie’s heart leapt into his throat.
“Buck!”
He barely had time to register the look on Buck’s face—startled, wide-eyed—before the catwalk above gave out, a cascade of debris and steel crashing down.
Eddie lunged. Too slow. Always too slow.
The world narrowed to the sound of impact, Buck’s body hitting the ground, and the roar of flames swallowing the air around them.
The sound was deafening. The crash, the sparks, the hiss of fire eating through steel. Eddie’s ears rang, his chest seizing like someone had jammed a fist inside and squeezed.
“Buck!” His voice cracked raw through the mask, barely audible over the roar.
For a heartbeat, Eddie couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could see was Buck sprawled under the wreckage, the glint of his helmet half-buried in dust and firelight.
Then instinct slammed back into him.
He tore forward, boots slipping on the ash-slick concrete, gloves burning as he shoved debris away. Choking smoke clawed at his throat, but he ignored it. He couldn’t hear Bobby yelling over the comms, couldn’t hear Hen on the radio calling for backup. All he heard was his own pulse and Buck’s ragged, broken breaths.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Eddie muttered under his breath, words spilling out like a prayer, like if he kept saying them Buck would listen. He got his arms under the twisted beam, braced, and lifted with everything he had. His muscles screamed, vision spotting black.
The steel groaned but shifted, just enough for him to drag Buck free.
Buck gasped when the weight lifted, his body jolting, coughing hard through his mask. His eyes fluttered open—blue, bloodshot, unfocused.
“Eddie-?” His voice was muffled, slurred, but it was his. It was him.
Relief nearly dropped Eddie to his knees. “Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” The words shook, frantic. Lies. He wasn’t okay. Not yet.
“Can’t… breathe—” Buck rasped, a hand weakly fumbling at his chest plate.
“Don’t talk. Save your strength.” Eddie pressed his hand over Buck’s, grounding him. He could feel the tremors shaking through Buck’s body, the rise and fall of shallow breaths. Too shallow. Too weak.
Bobby’s hand clamped on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’ve got to move. Now.”
Eddie nodded, not trusting his voice. Together they half-carried, half-dragged Buck out, the heat licking at their heels, smoke closing in like a living thing trying to keep them. Eddie never let go, his grip iron around Buck’s arm, terrified that if he did, Buck would slip away.
Outside, the night air hit like a slap, cooler but just as sharp. Paramedics swarmed, pulling Buck onto a gurney, masks and monitors snapping into place. Eddie’s hands shook so badly he fumbled his gloves off, dropping them to the pavement.
“BP’s dropping!” one of the medics shouted. “We need to move!”
They started wheeling Buck toward the ambulance. Eddie followed without thinking, chest tight, every nerve screaming.
“Eddie, give them space—” Bobby started, but Eddie spun, eyes blazing.
“I’m not leaving him!” His voice tore out, hoarse and desperate.
Bobby didn’t argue. Just nodded once, grim, and stepped back.
Eddie scrambled into the rig, climbing up beside Buck as the doors slammed shut. The siren wailed again, loud and mournful, as they pulled away from the fire.
⸻
The inside of the ambulance was chaos. The medic barked vitals, adjusting IV lines, slapping monitors onto Buck’s chest. Eddie barely registered any of it. His whole world had narrowed to Buck’s pale face, the smear of soot across his cheek, the smear of blood at his hairline.
Buck’s eyes fluttered open again, just barely. “Eddie…” His lips formed the name like it was the only word he remembered.
Eddie leaned close, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard enough his knuckles ached. “I’m here. I’m right here, Buck. Stay with me, okay? Just stay.”
Buck tried to smile—God, he tried—but it faltered, replaced by a cough that wracked his whole body. Eddie’s stomach dropped at the sound, bile clawing at his throat.
“You don’t get to do this to me,” Eddie whispered fiercely, forehead nearly touching Buck’s. His voice shook, but he didn’t care. “You don’t get to scare me like this.”
Buck’s grip tightened weakly around his, a ghost of pressure but it was there. Alive.
The medic shot Eddie a quick look. “Talk to him. Keep him awake if you can.”
Eddie’s throat closed around the words he wanted to say. His heart hammered so loud it drowned out everything else—the siren, the rattling of the ambulance, even the medic’s commands. His hand squeezed Buck’s, desperate, knuckles white against skin that was frighteningly cool.
“Buck,” Eddie rasped, his voice already breaking. His eyes blurred, tears burning and spilling beforehe could even blink them away. “Hey, it’s me. Stay with me, okay? Please, just—don’t close your eyes.”
Buck’s lashes fluttered, barely there, lips parting with a breath that sounded far too shallow.
Eddie bent closer, tears sliding hot down his face, falling onto Buck’s shirt. His voice shook, uneven and raw, but he forced the words out because silence felt like death. “You remember the cabin? That stupid cabin in the middle of nowhere you swore was gonna be perfect?”
The memory rose up vivid and sharp, almost cruel in its clarity. He clung to it like it could anchor them both.
“You told me it was gonna be romantic,” Eddie went on, his voice hoarse, trembling with the effort of holding himself together. His free hand pressed against Buck’s arm, grounding himself. “Just us. No chaos, no interruptions. God, you were so sure. And then the power went out—middle of a blizzard. No heat. No lights. You were freezing and you still tried to convince me it wasn’t that bad.”
His voice cracked on a laugh, jagged and pained. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye and landed on Buck’s temple. “You were walking around in three sweatshirts, two pairs of socks, your nose red as hell. And you still said, ‘God, it was meant to be romantic!’ like you couldn’t believe it. We cooked hot dogs over the fireplace, Buck. Hot dogs.” Eddie’s chest caved in on itself, the words dissolving into sobs. “I thought I’d ruined it all. But you just smiled at me. You stayed.”
Another tear slid down Buck’s cheek, cutting through the soot, and Eddie let out a broken sound—half-sob, half-prayer. He cupped Buck’s face, thumb trembling as he wiped it away. His forehead pressed against Buck’s, his tears slipping freely now, rolling down to dampen the collar of Buck’s shirt.
“That’s it,” Eddie whispered, voice cracking with desperation. “You’re here. With me. Don’t you dare let go.” His lips brushed against Buck’s temple, his grip tightening like he could hold him there by sheer force. “Please, Buck. I can’t lose you again.”
The monitor screamed.
“Pressure’s dropping!” the medic barked.
Eddie’s heart lurched into his throat. “No—no, no, no, no!” His whole body shook as he clutched Buck’s hand harder, knuckles digging into skin. “Stay with me, Buck! Do you hear me? You don’t get to leave me! Not now, not like this!”
The medic’s hands blurred in Eddie’s vision, pushing meds, barking orders, calling to the driver. The ambulance swayed, lights flashing red through the windows, but Eddie barely noticed. All he saw was Buck’s pale face, lips losing color, chest rising too shallow, too slow.
Tears streamed down Eddie’s cheeks unchecked, his breaths ragged, chest splitting wide open. “Fight,” he pleaded, voice raw, cracking on every word. “Just fight a little longer. For me. For Chris. Please, Buck—” his breath hitched, breaking on a sob, “—don’t make the last thing between us be you mad at me. Don’t leave me with that. Please.”
The beeping stuttered, faltered. Eddie thought the world had ended—until it steadied again, thin but there.
His knees buckled, his head dropping to Buck’s chest as a ragged sob tore free. His tears soaked into Buck’s shirt, his whole body shaking as he whispered, “Good. That’s it. That’s my Buck. Just—just hold on. Please. I’m right here.”
He stayed there, pressed close, crying into Buck’s shoulder, until the medic barked again for more room. And still Eddie wouldn’t let go of his hand.
Because if he let go, Eddie was terrified he’d lose him forever.
The ambulance lurched to a stop, the brakes screeching, but Eddie barely registered it. His hand was still wrapped around Buck’s, fingers digging in like if he let go, Buck would slip right through his grasp. His own tears hadn’t slowed—his cheeks were wet, his breath stuttering, every inhale sharp and broken.
“Clear the bay!” a voice shouted as the doors flew open, cold night air rushing in.
The gurney jerked as the medics yanked it out, and Eddie stumbled forward, refusing to loosen his grip. He half-climbed down after them, boots hitting the asphalt hard, his legs threatening to give out with every step. Still, his hand clung to Buck’s like a lifeline, knuckles white, thumb brushing against pale, unresponsive skin.
“Sir, you need to step back—”
“No!” Eddie barked, voice ragged, fierce in its desperation. His eyes were wild, bloodshot from crying, but unflinching. “I’m not leaving him. I’m not.”
The medic exchanged a look with the nurse running alongside, ybut no one stopped him. They were moving too fast through the sliding glass doors, too many voices shouting vitals, numbers Eddie couldn’t process, terms that made his chest clench tighter.
“BP’s unstable—”
“Get him to Trauma One—”
“Page surgery—stat!”
The hall blurred around him, sterile white walls, blinding fluorescent lights overhead, the scent of antiseptic burning his nose. Eddie’s world had narrowed down to the clammy hand in his, the shallow rise and fall of Buck’s chest, the faint flutter of his pulse under his thumb.
“Buck,” Eddie whispered, leaning in, his tears slipping onto the gurney mattress as they pushed through swinging double doors. His voice cracked, soft and wrecked. “It’s me. I’m here. Just… just hang on, please. You promised me once you’d always come back. Don’t you dare break that now.”
The gurney jolted as they wheeled into the trauma room, and Eddie stumbled with it, still clutching Buck’s hand. His other arm braced against the bed rail, his shoulders shaking, chest hitching with sobs he couldn’t contain anymore.
“Sir, you can’t be in here—”
A nurse tried again, reaching for his arm, but Eddie wrenched free, his grip on Buck tightening. “I’m not leaving him!” His voice cracked on the last word, shaattering in the sterile air. His eyes burned, more tears spilling freely as his whole body trembled. “You don’t understand—I can’t—”
A hand landed gently on his shoulder, firm but steady. Bobby. Eddie hadn’t even noticed him arrive, hadn’t noticed Hen and Chim just behind, their faces etched with worry.
“Eddie,” Bobby said quietly, the calm in his voice fraying at the edges. His eyes softened, but his tone was unwavering. “They need to work. You’ve gotta let them.”
Eddie’s chest heaved, the sobs tearing through him, but his grip wouldn’t loosen. He bent over the bed, pressing his forehead to Buck’s hand, his tears soaking into the skin. “Please,” he whispered, broken, his voice muffled and raw. “Please don’t let him die.”
L
The monitor beeped faster, the trauma team swarming, shoving carts and lines and tubing into place. The urgency in their movements only made Eddie cling harder, panic surging until his knees nearly gave.
“Eddie.” Bobby’s voice again, softer now, but insistent. His hand squeezed Eddie’s shoulder. “They’ll do everything they can. But you’ve gotta trust them. Let them help him.”
Eddie’s lips trembled as his eyes lifted, bloodshot and brimming with grief. He looked back down at Buck—pale, still, surrounded by strangers who were trying to save him—and it felt like someone was ripping his heart out of his chest.
He pulled bucks hand against his lips and pressed a wet kiss onto his soft skin and Slowly, agonisingly, let his hand slipped from Buck’s, fingers trailing down until there was nothing left to hold. Eddie stumbled back, chest caving, his legs nearly buckling. His hands went to his face, palms digging into wet skin as sobs racked his body.
The doors swung closed, Buck disappearing behind them.
Eddie slid down the wall, his back hitting hard against the cold plaster, knees pulled up, his hands buried in his face. The sobs came in waves, tearing out of him before he could stop them, choking him until his chest hurt. He’d been trained to keep calm under pressure, to think with logic, to stay steady when everything else was falling apart. But none of that training mattered now. This wasn’t a mission. This wasn’t combat. This was Buck—his Buck—lying somewhere behind closed doors, fighting for his life.
A hand settled on his shoulder, warm and steady. Eddie looked up, his vision blurred with tears, and saw Bobby crouched beside him. The captain’s usually composed face was tight with worry, his own eyes glassy.
“Eddie,” Bobby said quietly, gently. “He’s in good hands. You did everything you could.”
Eddie shook his head, a broken sound escaping his throat. “It’s not enough. It’s never enough.” He scrubbed at his face with the heel of his palm, his breaths shallow and ragged. Then he swallowed hard, forcing out, “can you…call Maddie. Please. She should be here.”
Bobby gave a small nod, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll call her.”
Eddie’s hands twisted together in his lap, shaking so hard he had to grip his wrists just to keep them still. He leaned back against the wall, his chest rising and falling too fast, his eyes darting toward the trauma room doors like he could will them open. Then his voice cracked again, soft but sharp with self-loathing.
“Maybe I should go,” Eddie whispered. His throat worked as he tried to swallow the words back, but they kept spilling out. “Maddie… she probably hates me. She should. I lied to her, to Buck. I left him with nothing but grief. She’ll never forgive me. Maybe it’s better if—if I’m not here when she gets here.”
Bobby’s brow furrowed, his voice firm but kind. “Eddie. Stop.” He shifted so Eddie had no choice but to look at him. “You don’t get to disappear again. Not now. Buck would never forgive you if you walked away from him tonight. And Maddie—she doesn’t need explanations right now. She needs to know her brother isn’t alone.”
The words hit Eddie hard, carving through the panic and the guilt with something steadier, heavier. He pressed his shaking hands to his mouth, biting back a sob. Bobby squeezed his shoulder again, grounding him.
The sliding doors at the end of the hall hissed open, and Eddie’s head shot up. Maddie rushed in, her face pale, her eyes wide and frantic. “Where is he? Where’s Buck?” she demanded, scanning the hall until she spotted Bobby—and then her gaze landed on Eddie.
She froze.
Her whole body seemed to stutter, caught between panic and shock, her breath hitching as if the ground had tilted beneath her. “Eddie?” she whispered, voice breaking on his name. “You’re… you’re alive?”
Eddie’s stomach twisted, guilt slamming into him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could do was sit there on the cold floor, red-eyed and broken, staring up at the woman he’d betrayed with his silence.
But Maddie’s eyes, though wide with disbelief, darted back almost instantly to the trauma doors. Her hands were shaking, her chest rising too fast, and her voice came out ragged. “Where is he? I need to see my brother. Please.”
Eddie pushed himself up from the wall, wiping at his face with the back of his sleeve. His throat ached, his words raw. “They took him into surgery.” He swallowed hard, guilt tightening every muscle in his body. “I—I’m sorry. I should’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Maddie’s gaze flickered back to him, her expression torn between disbelief, anger, and something softer—fear so sharp it cut through everything else. For the moment, she didn’t demand answers. She didn’t scream at him, though maybe she had every right to. All she said, her voice breaking, was:
“Is he going to be okay?”
Eddie’s chest cracked open at the sound of it. He wished he had an answer. He wished he could promise her. Instead, his voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “God, I hope so.”
And for the first time in years, they stood together in the same hallway—both broken open by the same man on the other side of the door.
The waiting room had become a prison.
Hours bled together, the sterile clock on the wall ticking slow and cruel. Every second without news pressed heavier on Eddie’s chest until it felt like his ribs might cave in. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t stand still. His boots had worn a path in the faded carpet from pacing back and forth, back and forth, the same eight steps, turn, repeat.
Hen sat curled into herself, hands clasped together tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor. Chim was half-dozing in a chair, though the twitch of his fingers on his knees betrayed the nerves rattling inside him. Bobby sat like stone, Bible clutched in one hand, his other thumb brushing over his wedding ring again and again.
Maddie hadn’t stopped shaking since she arrived. She sat stiff in the chair by the door, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes red and swollen. Every time someone in scrubs walked past, she shot up like she might shatter if she didn’t hear something soon.
And Eddie—Eddie was falling apart.
He’d tried to sit once, next to Maddie. The second he lowered himself, though, his knee had bounced uncontrollably, his breath had hitched, and the walls felt like they were closing in. He shot back up and resumed pacing. Because if he stopped moving, if he sat too long, the images came back—the weight of Buck’s limp hand, the moment the monitors had screamed in the back of the ambulance, the way his eyes had fluttered closed like he was giving up.
“Eddie,” Bobby said quietly at one point, voice steady but carrying. “You’ve got to breathe.”
“I am breathing,” Eddie snapped, harsher than he meant to. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “That’s the problem. I’m breathing and he’s not out here. He’s in there, and I don’t know if—” His voice cracked. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, turning away.
No one pressed him further after that.
The hours dragged. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, the television in the corner played some late-night rerun nobody cared about. Time blurred.
Until finally—the doors swung open.
A surgeon stepped inside, pulling off his cap and mask, scanning the room. His voice was brisk but clear:
“Family of Evan Buckley?”
Eddie’s heart slammed into his throat. He was on his feet before he’d even realized he’d moved, the word tearing out of him raw and desperate:
“I’m his fiancé.”
The whole room froze.
Hen’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Chim’s mouth literally fell open. Maddie stiffened, her face a storm of shock and confusion. Even Bobby’s eyebrows ticked up, though his expression stayed carefully neutral.
The surgeon only nodded, flipping briefly through the chart in his hand like he heard confessions like that every day. “He made it through surgery,” he said, calm, efficient. “It was close, but he’s stable now. He’ll need time and rest, but he’s alive.”
Alive.
The word hit Eddie like a blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. His knees nearly gave out, but he caught himself, his chest aching with a sob he barely swallowed back.
“You can go see him now,” the surgeon added, gesturing toward the hallway.
Eddie didn’t wait. He didn’t look at anyone—didn’t stop to see the confusion etched on Hen’s face, the way Chim whispered “what the hell?” under his breath, the shock radiating from Maddie. He just moved, fast and determined, following the surgeon’s lead until the doors swung shut behind him and the others were gone.
The hallway stretched endlessly, sterile white walls and polished floors reflecting the fluorescent lights above. Eddie’s boots echoed against the tile, each step too loud, too heavy. His heart thundered in his chest, every beat a reminder—alive, alive, alive—but the words didn’t feel real yet.
The surgeon’s voice still rang in his ears. He made it through surgery. He’s stable now.
Eddie swallowed hard, his throat raw. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, so he shoved them deep into his pockets, but that only made his shoulders tremble, his whole body tight with nerves. He’d faced down danger, death, fire, and chaos countless times—but nothing had ever scared him like this: walking into a room to see if Buck was really still here.
When he reached the door, he froze. For a second, he couldn’t do it. His hand hovered over the handle, fingers twitching but not closing. He pressed his forehead against the cool metal instead, his eyes squeezing shut.
What if Buck was pale, lifeless, hooked up to a hundred machines? What if he looked broken in a way Eddie couldn’t fix? What if, despite everything, he was too late?
Eddie dragged in a ragged breath. No. He couldn’t think like that. Buck had survived. Buck was alive. That had to be enough.
Finally, with a trembling hand, he pushed the door open.
The room was dim, machines humming softly, monitors blinking green. And there—on the bed—Buck.
He looked impossibly small against the stark white sheets, pale skin bruised and scratched, chest rising and falling with the aid of tubes and wires. His hair was a mess, his lips dry, but his heart monitor beeped steady. Steady.
Eddie’s chest cracked open at the sight. Relief hit so hard it was almost pain, his knees nearly buckling as tears filled his eyes. He pressed a hand against the doorframe to steady himself, the other clutching the strap of his sling like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Just looked.
Then, slowly, he forced his legs to carry him forward. Each step felt like wading through water until he was right there, standing over the man who had haunted every one of his dreams and nightmares for years.
“Buck,” Eddie whispered, voice breaking, as if saying his name would tether him here, keep him from slipping away again.
He reached out with shaking fingers, hesitating just inches above Buck’s hand, terrified of how fragile it might feel beneath his touch. Finally, he let his palm settle over Buck’s knuckles, clutching tightly, grounding himself in the warmth still there.
And then the tears came. Hot, relentless, unstoppable. He ducked his head, shoulders shaking as he pressed their hands to his forehead, whispering through broken breaths:
“I thought I lost you. Dios, I thought I lost you again.”
Eddie didn’t move from Buck’s side, even when the monitors beeped steadily. His hand was still clasped around Buck’s, fingers entwined as if letting go even for a second would make him disappear.
Buck’s eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead. The sharp scent of antiseptic hit him immediately, making him wince. His head throbbed in sync with every shallow breath he took, and a dull ache radiated through his side. He groaned, a low, ragged sound, and tried to lift a hand to rub his temple—but it felt like someone had filled his arms with concrete.
“What…” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a rasp. It caught in his throat, and he coughed lightly, the sound foreign to his own ears.
Eddie was there in an instant, kneeling beside the bed, his face pale but tight with relief and worry. “Shhh, hey… don’t try to talk just yet,” he said softly, voice trembling despite his attempt to stay composed. One hand clutched Buck’s fingers gently, as if letting go for even a second might make him vanish. Tears glistened in Eddie’s eyes, catching the hospital lights and making them shimmer.
Buck blinked slowly, trying to focus. “Eddie…” His voice cracked. “I… hurt?”
“You’ve been through a lot,” Eddie murmured, brushing damp hair back from Buck’s forehead. “But you’re okay. You’re okay… you’re going to be fine.” His hand squeezed Buck’s, more like a lifeline than reassurance. “I was so scared I was going to lose you. I… I can’t—” He stopped, swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I just can’t even…” His words stumbled over each other, emotions raw.
Buck blinked, trying to focus through the fog of pain. “You… you’re crying.”
Eddie jerked back slightly, waving a hand defensively. “No! I’m not—well, maybe a little—but it’s not what you think!” His voice cracked, and a single tear slipped down despite his protest. “I’m just… worried! And scared! And mad at myself for not being able to stop it!”
Buck blinked, groggy and confused, trying to process Eddie’s flurry of emotions. “Eddie… it’s okay. You don’t have to fight it.”
“I’m not fighting it!” Eddie insisted, pacing the small space beside the bed, his hands twisting nervously. “I just—look at you! You’re lying here all messed up, and I’m supposed to be calm? Supposed to be rational? I can’t—I can’t!” He paused, breathing hard, then leaned over and pressed a hand to Buck’s. “I just… I thought I lost you, and the last real conversation we had was with you mad at me.”
Buck’s eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on Eddie through the haze of pain and grogginess. His hand weakly reached up to rest over Eddie’s. “I… I’m not mad,” he croaked, voice rough from the surgery and tubes and exhaustion. “Not… not anymore.”
Eddie froze for a moment, disbelief flashing across his face. “Wait… what?”
“I said… I’m not mad,” Buck repeated, forcing a small, pained smile. “I know… I know what happened. And… I get it now. I just… I don’t want to be mad at you. Not anymore.”
Tears welled up in Eddie’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to blink them back but failing miserably. “Buck… you have no idea… how long I’ve needed to hear that.” He bent slightly, pressing his forehead gently against Buck’s, breathing in the faint antiseptic scent of the hospital room mixed with the faint, familiar smell of him. “I thought… I thought the last thing you’d ever see me as… was the guy who left you. The one who disappeared.”
Buck’s lips twitched again, exhausted but determined. “You… you’re here. And that’s all that matters. You’re here.”
Eddie laughed shakily, voice breaking. “God… you just got out of surgery, and I’m crying to you.” He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling. “You’re supposed to be the one apologizing for making me panic, not the other way around.”
Buck let out a weak, tired chuckle, one eye half-open. “Yeah… yeah, well… I think we both panicked, huh?” His voice was hoarse, but there was a teasing lilt in it despite the pain. “You look ridiculous, by the way. Red eyes, sniffling—dramatic much?”
Eddie groaned, embarrassed, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, sitting back slightly, still holding Buck’s hand. “You’re okay… you’re really okay.”
Buck shifted slightly, wincing. “Yeah… I’m okay. You’re still… freaking out over me like a sap. Classic Eddie.”
Buck’s throat felt dry, coarse, like sandpaper. His hand weakly reached toward Eddie. “Can you get me water… please,” he croaked, voice hoarse from surgery and the panic of the day.
Eddie’s heart clenched at the sound. “Of course,” he said softly, leaning down to squeeze Buck’s hand reassuringly. “I got you.”
Eddie stepped out of the room, the sterile hospital air doing nothing to calm the whirlwind in his chest. He gripped the glass of water tightly, letting the cold condensation dampen his trembling fingers. Wiping at the tears streaking his face, he drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close he had come to losing Buck—and how terrifying it had been to imagine the last words they’d shared filled with anger and hurt.
When he returned to the waiting room, the rest of the 118 was gathered there, pacing, leaning against the walls, restless with worry. Chimney was perched on the edge of a chair, tapping a pen nervously against his knee. Hen’s arms were crossed, her jaw tight, but her eyes betrayed the fear she was holding in. Maddie hovered by the doorway, and even Bobby’s usual calm presence felt taut, strained by hours of waiting.
The moment Eddie stepped in, all eyes snapped to him, bracing, expecting the worst.
“He’s…” Eddie swallowed hard, fighting back a fresh wave of tears, his voice cracking but determined, “…he’s okay.”
For a beat, the room froze. Relief slammed into everyone like a wave. Maddie exhaled audibly, covering her mouth with her hand. Chim let out a shaky laugh, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. Hen’s arms fell to her sides, a relieved exhale escaping her. Bobby just nodded, processing the information with careful attention, letting a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
Eddie’s eyes softened as he looked at them, still damp from tears but filled with unspoken emotion. “He made it through surgery,” he continued, his voice shaky but proud. “He’s alive. He’s… okay.”
The room filled with murmurs of relief, a collective exhale of pent-up tension. Yet, despite the comfort that Buck was safe, the word he had blurted out—fiancé—hung heavy in the air. Confusion rippled through the 118.
Hen raised a brow. “Fiancé?”
Chim leaned forward, squinting. “Yeh… what was that about?”
Eddie waved them off with a shaky smile, a small laugh escaping despite the lingering panic in his chest. “Yeah, yeah. He’s my fiancé. I’ll explain later. He’s… he’s okay, that’s all that matters right now.”
The group collectively relaxed a fraction, though the questions were clearly itching to be asked. Eddie’s gaze softened as he looked down the hall toward the room where Buck rested, finally breathing steadily after the chaos. Every worry, every panicked thought melted into relief, though a deep ache remained in him—a reminder of just how close he’d come to losing the man he loved.
One by one, they filed into Buck’s hospital room, each pausing at the doorway to take in the sight of him resting, pale but breathing steadily, bandages and monitors surrounding him like a protective cocoon.
Maddie was first. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then stepped forward, her usual confidence tempered by concern. “Buck…” she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Her fingers lingered on his arm for just a moment, grounding herself as much as him. “You scared the hell out of us.”
Buck’s eyes fluttered open slightly, groggy but aware enough to see her. “Maddie…” His voice was raw, weak from pain and exhaustion, but laced with relief. “I… I’m okay.”
“You scared me too,” she admitted, voice breaking slightly. “But you’re really okay, right?”
“I’m… fine,” Buck murmured, attempting a small smile. “Thanks for… coming.”
Next came Bobby, stepping in with a calm that belied his own worry. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, taking in the scene, then came closer. “Hey, kid,” he said, his voice steady but softer than usual. “You gave us all quite the scare. How’re you feeling?”
Buck shifted slightly, wincing as pain flared, and Eddie’s hand instinctively found his, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Better… now,” Buck said, his lips twitching into a faint smile at Bobby’s familiar tone. “Thanks, Cap.”
Hen was next, crossing the room with her usual purposeful stride, though her eyes held a tenderness she rarely let anyone see. “How are you feeling?,” she asked lightly, though her voice held the undercurrent of fear she couldn’t hide. “Don’t try to scare us like that again.”
Buck let out a faint laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “I’ll… try.”
Finally, Chimney came in, a mixture of nervous energy and relief written all over his face. He perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair, looking at Buck like he was both amazed and terrified. “Dude… you really pulled a stunt this time,” he said, voice high with emotion. “You’re lucky to have Eddie keeping you alive—or something.”
Buck’s tired eyes flicked toward Eddie, who only squeezed his hand again, watching silently. “Yeah… lucky,” Buck murmured, letting the small smile tug at his lips.
Each of them lingered for a few more moments, sharing words of reassurance, light teasing, and small touches, before stepping back and letting Buck rest. Maddie stayed the longest fussing over buck almost as much as Eddie was until a nurse sent her home, only one person can stay overnight. So Eddie stayed, refusing to leave his side, when maddie finally let herself out, leaving him in quiet, protective watch of Eddie Diaz.