Chapter Text
Growing up, Buck didn’t play video games outside the random trip to the arcade. They were banned in the Buckley house, labeled a distraction and an unwanted noise machine. In fact, the first time he even owned a console for himself was when he moved into the loft, and he just bought it to play with Christopher and Eddie.
After the bombing, he ended up playing a lot of games those first few weeks. He couldn’t get up to his bed, so he was left to sleep on his couch. The draw of playing characters in such an open setting was something that he couldn’t avoid.
He made a point to avoid games with a medical twist, as well as horror games. He saw enough death every day. He stuck to adventure games, especially fantasy ones, when he wasn’t playing fighting games with the Diaz boys.
After the tsunami, after the tragedy and the horror and everything that came from that day, he realized that he needed to step back and take a breather. Otherwise he might do something stupid (like sue the city for not letting him return to work). Every time he shut his eyes, he was under the truck, drowning in the water, walking the streets cold and alone. He needed something to break the cycle.
During one of his long late night research binges, he discovered that there was a man in Japan that was developing some type of technology to be able to play games to the fullest. A full dive system, he’d called it. It was supposed to make it feel like you were actually in the game.
He made an impulse purchase of the new Nervegear system, as well as the first game that was coming out for it. Apparently it was in very popular demand and he was one of the lucky ten thousand people who got a copy. He didn’t expect that, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
The night that it was set to go live, he quickly set up the entire system. He’d read up on some tips that some of the players had already put online (beta testers?). Of course, he could have been wrong, he was using Google Translate to read everything online. Luckily the game came with the ability to set the language to English for written text on launch day.
Once he was ready, he set his phone on his coffee table and laid down on his couch, turning on the system. As everything started to boot, he pressed the trigger.
“Link start!”
Buck was starting to get worried.
Standing in the middle of the Town of Beginnings only a week ago, seeing the man that apparently had created Sword Art Online come out of the sky like a drop of blood, had been terrifying. Hearing that they would be trapped inside the game until someone completely beat it? He really didn’t have an idea of what might happen.
The biggest issue he had right now was that he was alone. His language skills left him with a massive barrier against other players. Most wouldn’t give him the time of day if he asked a question in his broken and hastily learned Japanese. Others would listen, say something that was too quick for him to process, and walk away.
He was lonely. Maybe more lonely actually, especially if he counted the days before he even put on the Nervegear the first damn time.
So, instead of attempting to play the social game, he spent every day outside of the town, training his basic sword skills against the easy enemies. He’d found an area that seemed to be away from major hunting grounds, where he could train safely for nearly six hours before retreating back to the town safe area for the evening. It wasn’t the best plan he had ever come up with, but it would work for now.
He always made a point to return to the town around five o'clock. There was a digital library near the cheap inn he had rented a room at. Every evening he’d spend a few hours there, slowly teaching himself enough Japanese to at least be able to communicate with the other players. It was slow going, but he didn’t mind. It actually passed the time a bit more than stressing about being trapped.
The more he focused on training and learning, the less he could dwell on the Real World, on home, on the family that he accidentally left behind. At night, before he went to sleep, he would always think of one of the team, or of Maddie, or Christopher and the other fire family kids. Just think of what they looked like, what they sounded like. He didn’t want to forget them.
He truly hoped that it wasn’t Maddie that found him in his apartment.
After two weeks had passed, he knew he needed to push himself. So, Buck started for the next town, taking down the slightly stronger monsters on his way there. Was it risky and dangerous? Possibly. But he needed to. He couldn’t stay and hide in one spot. That wasn’t who he was.
A month passed. It was nearly Christmas now.
Buck was at level eight now. He’d helped clear the first dungeon, which was something he didn’t like thinking about. He’d also upgraded to a different one handed sword. It was more of a broadsword, which suited him better then the game’s initial sword that he was using.
He kept to the same routine, training during the day, studying at night. But now, he was able to talk to some of the more patient players. He noticed that the older players were at least kind enough to let him stumble through questions, correct his mistakes and answer what he needed.
One older man had taken a liking to him and often shared meals with him at one of the taverns. They’d spend at least twenty minutes talking in Japanese, then switch to English. But each day that time was getting longer. The man never gave him his name, just telling Buck to call him Sensei.
Sensei became a mentor of sorts to him. During their discussions, Buck learned about Sensei’s life, that he had bought the game for his son as a gift for after his exams, but had gotten curious and tried it out. Buck reminded him of his son. Teaching him about the language and culture of Japan gave him something to look forward to when Buck arrived back in town after a long training session.
It didn’t bother Buck too much that he wasn’t on the front lines along with some of the players. Not yet. He was taking the time to train, instead of rushing in, headstrong and reckless. He only had one chance to survive, he didn’t want to waste it on an ill-attempted fight.
It had been a few weeks since so many players had collapsed in the streets. The common theory going around was that this was when they were being transported to hospitals, because there was no way they'd still be alive without medical intervention. His own time unconscious had been when he was already asleep, so he hadn’t realized it until later. When he’d mentioned it to Sensei, he was told that of course it made sense, because of the time difference.
He continued his late night tradition as well, picking someone to think about every night. Lately, with the holidays getting closer, those thoughts were filled with the Diaz boys, the Grant kids, and Denny Wilson. The kids of the 118 that he was finally getting close to.
As the clock in his room ticked over to midnight Christmas morning, he sat on his bed, head in his hands.
“Merry Christmas guys. I miss you.”
It was nearing the one year mark of being trapped in the game.
Buck wasn’t in a good headspace. He’d found a place in a decent inn and had barely left for nearly a week.
Sensei had been killed, right in front of him.
They’d been traveling to a nearby hot spring that Buck had heard about. It was something that Sensei had been saying Buck should experience, a “true Japanese experience.” What neither had expected was for them to get attacked only steps outside of the building by a group of orange players, or Player Killers.
Buck had done what he could to hold them off, but one had thrown a near-perfect dart skill and his mentor’s back was turned. Sensei was gone before Buck had been able to force a scream out of his throat. He’d been thrown backwards by another blow that took out nearly half of his health, but it launched him into the safe zone around the hot spring, which meant the players couldn’t kill him.
It was the difference of five feet.
The Player Killers left him there, laughing at his reaction to “that old man’s death.” But to Buck, it was someone else he had lost, someone else he had failed to protect.
He hid in the shadows of the spring for nearly an hour before making quick work back to his newly rented room at an inn on the twentieth floor, and had scarcely left his room since.
Buck knew that this was a possibility, he’d seen it happen many times when he joined the Clearers to get through some of the boss dungeons. He wasn’t the strongest player, especially because he was still playing solo, but he could at least hold his own. But to lose Sensei so senselessly?
There was a part of him that just wished he’d died instead. But he forced those thoughts away. He had too many people waiting for him at home.
But every day, he had this tiny voice in the back of his head, whispering whether anyone was waiting for him to come back.
Another year passed.
Buck had changed a lot in that time. He was nearly level sixty now. He trained on the higher floors, but had a home for himself elsewhere, where he had built up an extensive library.
According to one of Sensei’s friends, the only one who was still left, his grasp of Japanese was now at the level of a high schooler, which Buck was proud of. Just two years of hard work. Wouldn’t his family be proud?
That part of him that held doubt in his heart was still there and getting louder by the day, but he tried so hard to not focus on it.
He’d finally made friends with many of the Clearing parties, joining them when needed, but never staying. After failing with Sensei, and again not two months later with a few lower level players he had tried protecting, he had trouble getting close to anyone for more than a quick chat or to swap information.
He knew it wasn’t exactly healthy for his mental state, but he just couldn’t get close to anyone anymore. Couldn’t risk anyone else dying because he’d failed them again. Couldn’t think about any more broken families.
He still wondered if people visited him wherever he was in the real world. Did they talk to him? Sit by his side? It wasn't something he wanted to think about, but during lonely days, he thought about it. Then he'd remember something good from before, and put that doubt out of his mind for a bit longer.
It was the beginning of November when he’d received a message from one of the top guilds in the game, that he was needed to help clear the 75th boss dungeon. This wasn’t new, he’d helped them many times before and held a decent rapport with them. But there was something about this raid that was almost off putting. For one, two of the top Clearers, Kirito and Asuna, didn’t seem to want to be there. He spied the new rings on their fingers and understood.
But also, the leader of the Knights of the Blood, Heathcliff, there was something off about him. He was acting more superior than normal, as if he knew something they did not.
And it quickly became apparent that this was true.
As he lay paralyzed, watching the battle between Heathcliff/Kayaba and Kirito, Buck was struck with a sense of worry and terror. If Kirito failed, they would all die here. If Kirito survived however, then maybe…
It was the light that woke him. Blinding, just like the light that had hit when Kirito landed the death blow on Kayaba.
Blinking slowly, everything slowly came into focus. He couldn’t hear very well, but he did see something out of the corner of his eye. Movement. With every blink, the person became clearer.
Eddie.
He felt his face break out into a smile. Eddie mouthed his name, before reaching for something on the sheets and pressing it. Then he leaned into Buck’s line of sight, took one of his hands, and mouthed a full sentence.
It didn’t matter that Buck couldn’t hear what Eddie was saying right now. He knew what he was telling him.
He was home.
As Buck stood outside the 118, waiting for Maddie to text him the signal, he thought back on the past few years. He couldn’t believe just how much had changed while he was gone, but also all that had remained the same.
For one thing, he’d received one hell of a shock when he discovered that not only did his parents know that he was in Los Angeles, but that they had decided he should be in their care. While Maddie had worked with a lawyer that had apparently been helping her deal with them while he was in Aincrad, he took it upon himself to set up a video call with them.
Of course, he chose to do this while Eddie and Christopher were in the room, so he knew he’d need to watch exactly what he said. So, he decided that, after giving them a polite greeting, to unload and scream at them for nearly ten minutes.
Christopher had absolutely loved it. Eddie had managed to record it and sent it to the 118. Apparently, while no one understood a word of what he was saying, it was clear by his tone. Once he wound down, to his utter embarrassment (and the Diaz boys’ absolute delight), he snapped out, “Do you understand me now when I say stay out of my life?”
His father just stared at him on the screen, said something about how that last sentence was the only thing he could understand, and that they were washing their hands of him.
“Good riddance,” Buck had responded before slamming the laptop shut. And of course, finding out that he’d screwed up and hadn’t exactly spoken in a way they could understand him.
Once Christopher and Eddie’s collective laughter had calmed, Buck grumbled out, “If I knew I’d still default to Japanese, I would have just cussed them out and been done with it.” Which, of course, set them off again, but Buck had joined in this time.
It had been that experience that had led him to agreeing to officially move into the Diaz house, after finding out that his apartment lease had expired. (Which he had told Maddie was fine, he didn’t really like the loft all that much anyway, and he would never have expected her to hold onto it forever.) Due to the lack of a third bedroom, and Buck refusing to let Eddie be a gentleman and take the couch, they shared a bed (Buck’s, actually, retrieved from his storage unit. It was bigger, anyway). It worked out well, especially when the nightmares would hit.
And boy, did they.
At least twice a week, Buck would wake from seeing Sensei die, from watching everyone during the first boss battle get wiped out, to that feeling of being utterly helpless during the final battle. And every time, Eddie would be right there to calm him. On the few nights he had to do overnights, Christopher would curl up next to him and just whisper about whatever topic came to mind.
On top of that, there was the current argument with the LAFD that Bobby was helping him fight. They were trying to bar him from returning without going to substantial classes within the Academy, which would end up costing him more than he could possibly afford. Bobby, on the other hand, felt that, while Buck would need to pass the physical and health assessments, he could learn anything new while at the 118. They still had a space open for him (their latest probie having moved to B-Shift by choice, wanting to free up the space for Buck). It wouldn’t be until past New Years he would have the opportunity to really get his second shot at coming back, once his physical therapist cleared him.
Finally, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He peered through the bay doors, and quickly spotted everyone up in the loft, including Christopher sitting with the other 118 kids. Everyone looked like they were having a great time mingling amongst themselves.
He’d spent hours with every member of the extended Fire Fam. Telling them about some of his adventures, of some of the people he met, and some of the experiences that he couldn’t let go of.
Buck and Bobby had probably spent the most time together, if he didn’t count Maddie and the Diazes. While they talked about how he had managed to learn to “cook” within the game (“I’m no Asuna, but I could get by.” “Asuna? Was that a famous chef?” “No, just one of the strongest players. She could cut down a level fifty monster with one hit, then cook a huge meal ten minutes later without breaking a sweat.”). But he also told Bobby about his regrets, that he started to doubt if he’d ever get home, or if he did, would there be anyone waiting for him.
Bobby had pulled him tight at that revelation, hugging the younger man close. It was clear that Buck had been struggling because of that particular worry, so the captain had made it a point to spend at least one evening a week with him, as well as call him every shift. It had helped Buck immensely.
Slowly, he made his way into the 118 keeping out of sight of the loft. His hands trailed against the red painted metal of the firetrucks that he hadn’t been around in years. The sound of his footsteps was muffled thanks to the collective voice of his entire family. And since they weren’t expecting him (as he wasn’t exactly supposed to be walking up stairs right now, but what his physical therapist didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him), it was about to get a whole lot louder.
Just as he came into view, Christopher happened to turn his head. He quickly shushed him and stole over to the couches where the kids were hanging out. Denny and Harry didn’t immediately see him, but it was May that announced the surprise.
“Buck! You’re here!”
He quickly leaned over and gave her a tight hug, before doing the same to Harry and Denny, and then picking up Chris for another, not unlike the one that he gave the boy before leaving the house. The other members of the extended 118 family were already moving towards him, as they hadn’t seen him much during his recovery, due to their own busy schedules.
In the middle of giving hugs and hearing various forms of “Welcome home!” and “Thank God you’re okay,” Buck's eyes made their way to Eddie, standing away from the crowd, leaning on the kitchen counter. The man wasn’t bothering to hide his smile, letting Buck know without a doubt that he was happy to see him back in the first place he really called home.
With every person, he ended up one step closer to Eddie. Finally, after Bobby gave him a tight hug, he ended up in front of Eddie, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.
“What?” Buck asked, before stepping a bit closer.
“Nothing. Just enjoying the view. Our entire family is home.” Eddie reached out and pulled Buck into a quick hug, tight and secure, something that he’d been doing a lot since he woke up.
“Yeah. And I’m glad to be a part of it.” The two stood in the kitchen for another moment, watching everyone, before Bobby made a grand reappearance and kicked them both out. Besides, it was finally time to eat.
As Buck slid into his seat between Bobby and Eddie, he took a second to look at everyone in the room. He’d made it. He was finally home.