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Buck was beginning to think he‘d run out of luck.
He supposed he was probably lucky the firetruck had only crushed his leg and not the rest of him, lucky that Bobby had managed to talk down that kid before he could blow them all up. He was lucky he hadn’t lost the leg altogether. Lucky he’d recovered enough to train, to show up to his recertification test, to pass with flying colours. Lucky to have friends who cared enough to throw him a ‘welcome back’ party.
And he guessed it was kind of lucky, in a way, that he’d had a pulmonary embolism metres away from medically-qualified firefighters. But that had been the only good to come of it.
He’d been back to square one, put on blood thinners just to be safe. They wouldn’t let him be a firefighter while he was still a liability and realistically he knew that made sense, but in every other way it just felt like they were kicking him while he was down.
And then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he’d been caught up in a tsunami. A tsunami. Dizzy and exhausted and bleeding, and that hadn’t even been the worst of it, not by far. No, the worst of it had been the overwhelming fear, not for himself, but for Christopher. Doing everything he could to keep him safe, to keep him alive, turning to check on him and realising Christopher wasn’t where he’d left him. Hours that felt like centuries where he couldn’t find him, all the while running through fragments of conversations in his head, trying to come up with what he was supposed to say to Eddie, how he was meant to tell him that his son was…
But it hadn’t come to that, thank God. Christopher was safe. Buck had finally collapsed, but they’d caught him before he hit the floor, Cap and Hen and Chimney. That was pretty damn lucky. It had made him finally get his act together, too.
The doctor had told him to take it easy, so he took it easy. Three months of not over-doing it, of taking the medications they told him to take, of building himself back up until he found the humility to stop by the firehouse and talk to Bobby.
“I want to come back,” he’d said. No arrogance. No obstinacy. Only earnest. “If you’ll have me. I’m ready.”
They’d take him back in a heartbeat, Bobby had promised, as long as the doctor gave him a clean bill of health and he passed recertification. Again.
He did it easily.
“But no parties this time,” he’d told Bobby when he’d called him with the news. “I don’t want to tempt any bad luck or anything.”
They hadn’t had the party, but it didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t matter how close he got to getting everything back on track; he’d used up his luck, every bit of it.
Buck had officially been a firefighter again for three weeks when he woke up feeling like his head was splitting in two.
He sipped at a cup of coffee on the way to work, hoping the liquid might wake him up enough to keep suspicious eyes off him, or that it would at least soothe the awful sandpaper feeling in his throat. He vaguely remembered something about not drinking caffeine when you were sick, but given that the alternative had him staggering around like a zombie, he pushed the thought away.
Hen narrowed her eyes at him the moment he walked through the doors. He gave what he hoped passed for a convincing smile, but the corners of his lips barely twitched.
“Morning, Buck,” she said, watching him skeptically. Buck raised a hand in a pitiful wave and took another sip of coffee; he didn’t trust his voice not to break just yet. “You feeling okay?”
Buck wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat.”I feel fine. Are you okay?”
He’d sounded a little more hoarse than he would’ve liked, but that wasn’t that unusual for an early shift. Hen looked unconvinced, but she didn’t push it.
Buck changed in the locker room and sank steadily onto the bench, holding his head in his hands. He just had to make it through his shift and he could go home. He could do that. It wasn’t that bad, not really. Chimney had worked a shift with a cold a year ago and complained the whole time, but he’d done it. Eddie had caught something that had been going around Christopher’s class and had spent a shift sniffling and blowing his nose, but he’d made it through. Buck could do it too.
“You doing alright there, Buck?” Buck straightened, turning at the sound of Bobby’s voice. He smiled faintly.
“Yeah, Cap. Just a headache. I’ll take some Tylenol.” That would help. It had to.
“Okay.” Bobby nodded, the corners of his eyes creasing ever so slightly in concern. “But if you need to sit out the next couple calls-”
“I’m fine, Cap, honest.” Buck stood and opened his locker, digging through its contents until he found a box of pills. He took out two and downed them, waving the box at Bobby before putting it away again. Bobby rolled his eyes.
Overhead, the sirens began to blare.
“Battle stations,” Bobby said. “Last chance to sit out.”
“And let you guys save lives without me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”
*
Buck rested his forehead against the side of the truck. The call had been relatively easy, if there was such a thing as an easy call, but the Tylenol hadn’t kicked in and his head felt too heavy to hold up. The truck jolted as it drove over potholes; the movement made his stomach lurch. He closed his eyes.
“You look miserable,” Eddie said from beside him.
Buck didn’t move. “I’m fine,” he muttered.
Chimney scoffed. “That was really convincing.”
A calloused hand rested on his forehead; Buck batted it away and opened his eyes, staring blearily at the gazes fixed on him.
“Buck, you’re really warm.” Eddie again.
“It’s just hot in here.”
“It’s not,” Hen said.
Buck fumbled for the door handle the second the truck finally came to a stop. He dropped down to the floor and stumbled, clutching at the side of the truck for balance; a steadying hand caught his arm.
“You’re fine, huh?” Bobby raised his eyebrows. Buck wanted to reply, but it was difficult to think straight when the world around him seemed to be tilting. “You got him?”
Buck didn’t think the last sentence was directed at him. There were other hands holding onto him then, keeping him upright. “Come on, Buckaroo. Let’s get you sitting down.”
He didn’t remember walking away from the truck, but suddenly they were guiding him down onto a bench and there was a hand on his forehead again, a different one than before.
“You’ve got a pretty good fever going,” Hen frowned. “I knew you didn’t look right earlier. You should’ve said something.”
Buck took a slow, even breath. “It’s just a cold.”
“Yeah, if ‘just a cold’ is code for ‘the flu that’ll probably start the zombie virus’, sure.” Hen turned to look over her shoulder at Bobby. “He needs to go home.”
“No!” Buck coughed pitifully into the crook of his elbow. “I can’t. I’m okay. I’ll sit out the next call if you want me to. I’ll be fine in a couple hours.”
Bobby moved to where Buck was hunched over and crouched down in front of him. “You can’t go home?” He repeated. “Why can’t you go home, Buck?”
Buck shrugged, staring at a spot on the floor beside his shoe. “They’ll get rid of me again,” he mumbled.
Bobby glanced across at Hen. “Who’ll get rid of you?”
“The department.” Buck wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I just got back. I’ll have to get recertified again. I can’t do it. I can’t.”
“Buck.” Bobby ducked his head to catch Buck’s eye. “Listen to me. Nobody is going to fire you for getting sick.”
“They might.”
“They won’t.”
Buck looked up at him hesitantly, exhaustion settling on his face. “You’re sure?”
“Even if they wanted to try, they’d have to go through me,” Bobby said firmly, “and I wouldn’t let them.”
Buck smiled weakly.
“I’ll have Chim call Maddie to pick you up.” Bobby stood, resting his hand briefly on Buck’s shoulder. “Sit tight.”
Buck wanted to protest that he didn’t need his sister to come and get him, that he was perfectly capable of finding his own way back, but he couldn’t find the energy to argue. He nodded instead, resting his head in his hands.
Hen sat down beside him, knocking her knee against his. “You really can’t catch a break, can you?”
“Mm.”
“On the plus side, you’ve probably used up all your bad luck for the rest of your life. Plain sailing for you from here on out, Buckley.”
Buck looked sidelong at her. “You think so?”
Hen grinned. “One hundred percent. You’re back for good whether we want you here or not. And hey, before you know it you’ll be Cap’s age and you’ll have some annoyingly heroic twenty-something-year-old kid in your firehouse turning you grey too.”
Buck mused over her words. “You think I’ll have my own House one day?”
“Why not?” She shrugged. “But one step at a time. Go home and don’t come back until you’re not spreading your germs around the rest of us, alright?”
“Alright.”
Hen got up, patting him on the arm as she turned to leave. “Feel better, Buck,” she called over her shoulder.
And in truth, Buck felt a little better already.