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The apartment was dark and still, both things that made Bobby’s stomach churn. As he pulled his key from the lock and stepped over the threshold, his eyes cast around for any signs of life.
“Buck?” He called, loud enough to be heard, but soft enough not to startle. “You awake, kid?
It had been three days since Buck had been released from the hospital and to say that the man wasn’t himself was an understatement. Bobby couldn’t blame him. Afterall, how okay could someone really be after being crushed beneath nearly thirty tons of ladder truck? He’d held back, at first, knowing that Buck hated to feel smothered and inadequate. He also knew that Ali would be there. He’d wanted to come check in sooner, they’d all had, but work had been so intense lately with them being a man down that they’d hardly had time. Even Maddie had been swamped. Still, after days without any contact from him, Bobby knew something was wrong. That feeling had only intensified after he’d knocked on Buck’s door for a solid five minutes without any response. Fighting every urge to kick down the door and call for an RA unit, he’d dug out the key Buck had given him long ago for emergencies and let himself in.
Now that he was inside, the worry that had been gnawing at him quickly turned into a blaring alarm. The lights were off, and the place was as silent as a tomb. Buck’s apartment was never quiet. The kid always had some sort of noise going – music blasting, a game playing on the television. Bobby froze at the sight of a pair of crutches abandoned haphazardly at the base of the stairs. As he rounded the corner, his frown deepened when he saw that the couch was empty and the tiny, main floor bathroom was unoccupied. It was a small apartment, not a lot of places to hide. Surely Buck wouldn’t have risked the stairs…
Before Bobby could even process the thought, he was sprinting up to the loft. Sure enough, a tall, lanky figure lay curled up in the tangled blankets, only a small tuft of blond hair visible beneath them. His panic dialed down a notch, but his heart had yet to slow. What the hell was he doing up here? Where the hell was Ali? And why hadn’t Buck answered him?
“Buck?” Bobby tried again, but the only movement from beneath the blankets was the slow rise and fall of even breaths. With a sigh, Bobby sank down onto the edge of the mattress and gave Buck a light shake. “Buck, you in there?” The body beneath his hand stiffened minutely.
“Mmmmmmpphhh…” Buck’s groan was equal parts disgruntled and exhausted.
“Come on, kiddo. Give me something so I know you’re okay.” Bobby pressed. Buck grumbled something unintelligible into his pillow before peeling back the blanket and looking up.
“Bobby? What’re you doin’ here?” He asked, his voice rough with sleep. Bobby tried not to wince at how awful he looked. Buck was ghostly pale in the low light, with dark shadows ringing his dull eyes. It hadn’t escaped his attention that he’d lost weight since the accident. Buck had always been lean, but now the thin hollows of his cheeks and the way his clothes hang loosely off his frame spoke to a much deeper issue.
“I’m here because it’s been three days since anyone’s heard from you and I was getting worried…for good reason it looks like.” Bobby said pointedly as he raised an eyebrow. “How are you feeling? How’s your pain?” Buck stared at him for a moment while his brain processed what was happening.
“I’m good.” He answered simply, too tired for much else.
“Somehow, I don’t believe you. You’ve been radio silent for a while. Haven’t answered any of our texts.” Buck’s eyes flicked to the flashing notification light on his phone.
“Guess I slept through them.”
“What are you doing up here anyway? I remember the doctor saying something about no stairs for at least six weeks.”
“I wanted to sleep in my own bed.” Buck shrugged.
“And Ali let you do this?” Bobby asked, his words tinged with disbelief. Buck said nothing for a moment, his eyes dropping down.
“Ali and I…she’s gone. Two days ago.” He admitted quietly. Bobby’s heart sank.
“Buck, I’m so sorry, kid. If I’d known, I would’ve…hang on.” Bobby stopped as a realization struck him. “If you’ve been by yourself all this time, how long have you been up here?”
“Since she left.” Buck’s voice was matter of fact, devoid of any emotion.
“You’ve been in this loft, alone, for two days?” Bobby clarified.
“Yeah. S’fine. Had everything I need.”
“No, no you really don’t.” Bobby shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Buck, what if you’d fallen on your way to the bathroom? And your kitchen is downstairs. Have you eaten anything these past few days? Drank anything? Have you been taking your prescriptions?”
“Yeah, I’ve been taking them.” Buck ignored half the questions and gestured at the water bottle and the scattering of orange pill bottles on his bedside table.
“These are all supposed to be taken with food, kid. You need to eat.”
“I’m not really hungry.” Buck said, still avoiding Bobby’s eyes. “The meds…they, uh, make me feel sick.” Bobby checked his watch, then glanced down at the kitchen.
“Then I’ll make you something light. It’s about time for you to take them again and having some food in your something in your stomach should help.” He gave Buck’s forearm a light squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you sitting up.” As gently as he could, guided Buck into a sitting position propped against the headboard. Buck didn’t resist, but he didn’t help much either. This whole quiet and reserved version of Buck was really starting to freak Bobby out. “Alright,” He said after he’d finished arranging a pillow beneath Buck’s leg, “I’m going to go raid your cabinets and see what I can make. I’ll be right downstairs, so just yell if you need me, okay?” Bobby waited a few seconds, but Buck said nothing, just continued to stare down at the sheets. It’s fine, Bobby told himself. He’s exhausted, he’s in pain, he just needs some food and he’ll be fine. As he headed toward the kitchen, he pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text.
Buck’s kitchen was a rather sad sight. He supposed that the breakup with Ali had happened before anyone could buy groceries or clear out everything that had been rotting in the fridge since the day of the bombing. Once Bobby had cleaned out the expired food and moldy leftovers, there wasn’t much left aside from a few beers and some assorted condiments. The cabinets were mostly bare as well. Buck was rarely home enough to cook, and even when he was off duty, he usually relied on takeout and meals at the Diaz or Grant-Nash households. Bobby considered himself lucky to find a can of soup in one of the cupboards. As he set about heating it up, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Buck had been here all alone for days with nothing but pain and loneliness for company. He’d obviously needed help and where had his family been? At work or at home, assuming that he’d reach out if he needed something. That was a poor excuse and Bobby knew it. They’d all seen the signs, seen the way Buck had grown quiet these past few weeks. They knew he was struggling. Bobby knew better than anyone how hard, how impossible, it could be to pick up that phone and admit to yourself and to the world that you weren’t okay.
The microwave beeped, pulling Bobby out of his gloomy thoughts. He’d make this right. He had to. He couldn’t face losing Buck, especially not when he had the power to save him.
When he reached the top of the stairs, soup in one hand and a glass of water in the other, Buck was exactly where he’d left him, staring blankly at the wall.
“Food’s ready.” Bobby announced. “It’s not my usual Michelin star quality, but it should do the trick.”
“Thank you, Bobby. You really didn’t have to.” Buck said quietly, his hands fidgeting with the blankets.
“Yes, I did.” Corrected Bobby as he sat next to Buck and carefully placed the bowl in his hands. Buck held it close for minute, as if savoring the warmth. “You’re family, Buck. Family takes care of each other. I’m sorry we weren’t here sooner.”
“It’s not your fault, Bobby. You couldn’t have known that she’d…that I’d be dumb enough to get stuck up here…”
“Shh, enough of that. Placing blame isn’t going to help anything.” Bobby hushed as he began shaking out pills, noticing that the bottle of painkillers was much fuller than it should’ve been. “What matters now is that you know that we’re here for you, whatever you need.” He tipped the tablets in Buck’s hand and motioned for him to take them. Buck swallowed hesitantly, grimacing slightly at the aftertaste.
“I hate these.” He muttered, taking a small sip of broth. Bobby smiled sadly.
“I know, kiddo, but they were prescribed for a reason. Being in constant pain or getting an infection isn’t going to help you heal.”
“The pain is constant anyway.” Buck’s eyes didn’t meet Bobby’s. Bobby frowned.
“Buck, if you’re pain isn’t being controlled then that’s a conversation we need to have with your doctor. They can adjust the dose or try something else. You shouldn’t suffer through it.”
“It’s not terrible.” Buck lied. In truth, though the medication made it more bearable, there was still a never-ending ache in his leg, like something chiseling into his bones.
“It’s enough, though. Enough to keep you awake, to make you feel sick.” Bobby pointed out. “What’s really going on?” For a few minutes, Buck said nothing. He sipped his soup and Bobby waited him out.
“I don’t want to get addicted.” Buck’s voice was so quiet that Bobby almost couldn’t hear him, his whole body slumped in shame.
“Buck-“
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I know how hard it is for you and-“ He immediately back pedaled.
“Buck-“
“Just forget that I-“
“Buck!” Bobby interrupted, his voice raised, but not angry. Buck finally looked up and his eyes were so sad and deep that Bobby wanted to break. “Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me about this. My past, my problems with addiction, are not something you need to worry about. I’ve been dealing it and getting help and I’ve gotten to a really good place in my life. You got me there. If this is something you’re scared or worried about, then you can absolutely come to me about it. If anything, I probably understand a lot better than most people would.”
“I just…” Buck sniffed, wincing as he repositioned his leg and Bobby had to fight the urge to help him. His hands were trembling, making the spoon clack softly against the bowl. “When I was in the hospital, the best part of my day, the thing I looked forward to more than anything, even more than seeing any of you guys, was the drugs. I’d sit there for hours, just waiting for the nurse to come in. While I was waiting, it was all I could think about. Pain aside, I just wanted them, needed them. I could feel myself becoming dependent.” Buck paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
“When they finally released me,” he continued “with an entire bottle full of the stuff, all I wanted to do was start popping them like candy. Anything to make the pain stop. That first night, after Ali left, I was so close to reach for that second pill. It would have been nothing. Not an overdose. Nothing that could hurt me. Sure, it was more than the dose on the label, but all it would’ve done was give me one night of peace. But where would I stop? If I took another and it helped, which I knew it would, could I stop myself from taking more the next night? I don’t think I’m strong enough for that.” Buck’s admission was like a punch to the gut. Bobby quickly moved the empty bowl to the side and swept him into a tight hug.
“Thank you for telling me.” Bobby whispered fiercely into his ear. He could feel the wetness of Buck’s tears soaking through his shirt.
“I-I couldn’t do that to you.” Stammered Buck. “I couldn’t make you watch me-“
“Hey, this is about you, kid. Not me. I’ve got two feet on the ground and I’m steady. Steady enough to help you. You know that in AA, the sponsors are former addicts, right? Because we know what it’s like. Now, you’re not an addict. You saw the signs and you pulled back and I am more proud than I can even express. But quitting cold turkey while still recovering from a major injury isn’t the way to go. Talking through it, having family around to help, that’s how you stay grounded.” Buck seemed to melt into his arms, clinging tightly to Bobby as if he thought he’d float away without the weight of everything he’d just confessed. They sat there for a long time, each processing the moment they’d just had.
“Looks like I got here just in time.” A voice cut in from the top of the stairs. Buck peeked out from around Bobby’s arms, but Bobby just smiled.
“Eddie? What are you…how?” Buck asked, clearly confused. Eddie chuckled softly and sat down on Buck’s other side.
“Well,” he began, looping a strong arm around Buck’s shoulders. “when I get a text saying my best friend has been trapped in his bed with no food for two days, you can bet your ass I’m gonna drop everything and come over.”
“Bobby? You texted him?” Buck questioned, but his tone wasn’t accusing.
“I figured I’d need some help getting you down these stairs and into the car.” Bobby said nonchalantly.
“Car? I don’t understand. Where are we going?”
“My place.” Answered Eddie. “Not a chance are we letting you stay in this death trap of an apartment by yourself. I have a no stairs, a wonderful guest room, a son who misses you like crazy, and, of course, the amazing Carla who’s been after me to have you over for a visit since they turned you loose.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” Buck was still so overwhelmed by his conversation with Bobby that he could barely process this latest development.
“Say ‘okay, Eddie, sounds good.’” Eddie replied with a playful smirk. After a moment, Buck returned the smile. It was small, and tentative, but it was there, nonetheless.
“Okay, Eddie. Sounds good.”
“But first? You need a shower, Buckley. You smell worse than that dumpster fire we worked last month.” Eddie joked, giving Buck’s hair a playful ruffle. Buck couldn’t help it, he cracked up. Soon, the three of them were laughing uncontrollably. And if it was Buck’s first real laugh in weeks, then no one said anything, just lived in the moment.