Chapter Text
The blaring of the sirens erupted inside the Station, breaking the deafening silence.
Even after months of absence, Buck still had the instinct to be on his feet, ready to jump in his turnout coat and rush into the truck. But, just as he rose from his seat, he froze, remembering he had no reason to be on his feet. With a pang in his heart, the young firefighter bowed his head down, defeated, as his ears twitched at the sound of the trucks leaving the Station. Buck waited a few seconds as silence returned in the now-empty Station before looking up toward the station entrance. The blond remembered when he climbed on that truck, too. He remembered what it felt like to go on scenes, adrenaline coursing through his veins, side smiles shared with Eddie, the occasional brush of their knees, the silent words they shared with one look, but those memories slowly faded away from Buck's mind with every harsh word thrown at him, with every ice-cold stare.
A soft scoff shook his body as he realized he preferred when the team mistreated him to when they blatantly ignored his presence.
Ironic.
With a loud sigh, he pushed himself out of the corner of the room and trudged up the stairs, ready to clean up the team's mess. He started putting away the dirty plates, the glasses, and the cutlery and putting them in the sink before cleaning them. Once he finished with the dishes, he took out Tupperware boxes and saved the leftovers, which he placed in the fridge. After checking one last time that he had perfectly cleaned the room, Buck allowed himself to rest for a minute and sat on one of the sofas, his head falling against the headrest. He started thinking about his new role at the Station. Since the team refused to allow him back on calls, his new part consisted of cleaning up the mess they made at the firehouse. Without really consenting to that, the young man became Cinderella, a hard-working cleaner rejected by his family.
My house, my rules!
Shutting his eyes close, Buck let his anger at Bobby's words burn up in his chest. He never realized his Captain would turn him into a freaking slave, but he did. Suppressing a sigh, he opened his eyes and looked at the calendar hanging above the trash.
September!
A loud, exasperated moan escaped his lips. It's been months since he dropped the lawsuit, and there were no improvements whatsoever. Opening his eyes slowly, Buck stared at the ceiling, unmoved. At first, he thought his team just needed time to heal. The fact that Bobby allowed him back at the Station felt like a good start. Sure, he knew he wouldn't earn the team's trust back that easily, so he apologized, then gave them set the pace. As nothing happened, he tried small talk, but no one listened. Not disheartened by their silent treatment, he persevered, but soon, their silence morphed into snarky comments and insults, and very soon, Buck regretted taking that step toward them. He didn't remember when he gave up, but he did. After weeks of pointless efforts, he stopped talking. What was the point anyway? No one was listening. They didn't even notice his silence. Did they even care? Did they remember the sound of his voice? Because he didn't. He didn't remember the last time he said anything! But who could he talk to? Maddie? Athena? Karen? Carla? They didn't know what he was going through, and they'll never know. Such knowledge could only worsen things.
Groaning, Buck exited the sofa and moved on to the chores Bobby gave him. Despite the team's constant back-and-forth, it was a slow day for the blond. Fortunately for him, the alarm blared a few minutes after the team returned after each call, preventing them from throwing unpleasant remarks. It felt strange to realize how Buck got used to these mistreatments. After enduring their silent treatments, the young man sometimes wished they had insulted him just to give the impression they were talking to him.
By the end of the day, Buck had finished all his chores. He was just a few minutes away from the end of his shift, so he decided to lie on one of the sofas in the loft. Looking around one last time, the young man checked if everything looked fine. Content with what he saw, he relaxed and placed his phone on the coffee table. One leg bouncing uncontrollably, he tried to look intently at the ceiling to avoid looking at his phone, but the device seemed to mock him, reminding him of the last conversation he had, the last time he talked to someone.
9-1-1
With his duffel bag on his shoulder, Buck verified its content one last time before zipping it close. Patting his pockets, he nodded and headed out, but his cellphone ringing stopped him. With a low chuckle, the young man turned around and sat on the edge of his bed before opening his bedside table's drawer. Owen's name lit up the screen. Buck picked up the device and answered in his best fake, cheery tone. "Hey, Dad! What's up?"
"Hey, buddy!" Owen exclaimed, happy to hear his son's voice. "Nothing much, just checking on you. You're ready for your first day back?"
The blond's heart constricted at the innocent question, knowing the 118 didn't share his enthusiasm, but Owen didn't know. Buck never told him about the lawsuit or its aftermath and refused to let the Captain know.
"Evan, are you okay? What's that sound? I hope I'm not bothering you."
Buck shook his head, cursed his hesitation, and put on a fake smile. "No, don't worry, pops! But I would've forgotten to turn off the T.V. if you hadn't called."
"You can be such an airhead sometimes, son!" Owen chuckled.
"Papa!" Buck whined with fake outrage, knowing that whatever his dad said always meant 'I love you!'. He waited a few seconds before asking. "Are you okay?"
"Of course!" Owen answered a little too spontaneously for his son's taste.
"Don't tell me you're nervous about moving to Austin." Buck joked.
He heard his dad laughing at the comment. "Who? Me? Nervous? Come on! You know your old man better than that!" He paused for a brief moment before adding. "But your brother isn't too fond of the idea."
Buck winced at the mention of his baby brother. "How is he? The last time we talked, he was planning to propose to Alex. I haven't heard from him since."
The Captain sighed. "It didn't go as expected."
"How can I help?" His son asked, sharing his disappointment.
"Well," Owen started with a playful tone, "you could accept my offer."
"Dad!" Buck whined, not sure if he felt amused or embarrassed.
"Please, son! I'm getting old, and I'm doing a dangerous job! Would you refuse me the joy of having my sons working with me?"
"That's a low blow, Dad!" Buck answered with a pang in his heart. He knew Owen didn't want to hurt him or force him to choose between two families, and even if the young man craved a loving family, he still couldn't leave L.A.
"Sorry, bud! Well, I'll let you go to work. Stay safe!"
"Dad!" Buck called out before the other man hung up. Jaw clenched, he tried to contain the tears bubbling up. "I love you!"
"I love you too!" The Captain answered without skipping a beat.
9-1-1
It was their last conversation, the day Buck got reinstated. The young firefighter never told his dad about the lawsuit; he never found the courage to. He knew about Owen's unconditional love for him, knew he would never judge him or belittle him as Bobby did, but a small part of him begged him not to drag the other Captain into his mess.
Caught up in the depths of his thoughts, Buck didn't hear the trucks entering the Station until the team climbed the stairs. They found him sitting there but passed him by, blatantly ignoring his presence. As the group sat at the table, Bobby approached Buck, who stood on his feet almost immediately, body rigid.
"Did you do all your chores, Buckley?" The Captain asked, his voice as cold as stone.
Buck only nodded.
"Great! You can rest now. The shift is almost over."
The blond's eyes widened; he didn't see that coming, especially from Bobby. Usually, whether there were one or five minutes left of their shift, the Captain always found him a task, so what changed?
As Buck started to relax, the older man added. "You should go now. I wouldn't want you to sue me for exerting you!"
Someone snickered at the comment while Bobby went to his office. Buck almost smiled when he realized nothing had changed, so what was he still hoping for?
His phone buzzed on the coffee table. Buck quickly picked it up and looked at the screen, but it was just an app notification. He tightened his grip on his phone to keep him from crying in frustration. Jaw clenched, the blond descended the stairs, not caring how many more minutes until the end of the shift. No one would care if he just left. Halfway down the stairs, the blond heard Eddie's mocking voice.
"Did you see how desperate he looked when he picked up his phone? So needy! So desperate! Pathetic! Who cares about a traitor?"
Tightening his grip on the guardrail, Buck tried not to let Eddie's harsh words cut through his bleeding heart. Not wanting to stay and hear more, the young firefighter mustered all his resolve and headed for the locker room. He stopped at the entrance when he noticed that, once again, someone forced his locker open and scattered his belongings on the floor. This picture felt too familiar for him to be surprised or upset, but as he stepped foot in the room, a dark thought crossed his mind. His heart started beating furiously in his chest as he dropped to his knees and rummaged through his things.
"Please! Please! Please!" He whispered to himself in a broken tone.
A low sigh of relief escaped the blond man's lips as he grasped a minor USB key in the inside pocket of his duffel bag. Clutching it close to his chest, Buck took a moment to recover from his fright before putting the device and the rest of his belongings in his bag. He zipped it close and rose to his feet. When he turned around, Chim stood by the door and gave him a pitying look. Buck hated that look to be directed at him. The two men stared at each other silently, but before the Asian could open his mouth, Buck forced his way out, bumping his colleague's shoulder harshly.
9-1-1
Wandering in the busy streets of L.A., his duffel bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, Buck faced the truth he had tried to avoid all day: he had nowhere and no one to go to. He could always volunteer at the hospital to watch over the newborns; he loved to do that. Sometimes, the young man only went there because it was the only place in L.A. where he felt at peace, but that never stopped the nightmares. Maybe Eddie was right; perhaps he was desperate. He couldn't help it, though. He missed his team, his dad, and his brother, but most of all, he missed Christopher. Hearing Eddie snicker and mock him made him physically ill.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, Buck looked fondly at his wallpaper. It was a picture of Christopher taken last Christmas. Buck was spending the holidays with the Diaz boys. They sat at the dining table, eating chocolate Yule logs, Chris's favorite dessert. Eddie had put their plate away and asked Christopher to wash his mouth. The young boy smiled goofily at his dad, and Buck couldn't help but snap a picture of the silly kid.
Clenching his jaw, Buck fought the tightness in his heart. He put his phone back in his pocket and wandered away, not knowing where to go. Without realizing it, he ended up in front of a too-familiar front porch. A part of him wasn't surprised; he knew this place so well that he could find his way there blindfolded. He knew this was a bad idea, yet he still raised his hand and knocked. After a few seconds, Carla opened the door. "Buckaroo?" She asked, her mouth slightly agape.
The blond man saw the confusion in her features and how she eyed him from head to toe like she didn't recognize him. He tried to put on a reassuring smile for the only friend he had left. "Hey, Carla! Is Eddie home?" He asked, though he knew that if she was here, it could only mean Eddie hadn't come home yet.
"No, he isn't! Who knows where he is? He's not answering his freaking phone!!!"
Buck cringed under her sharp tone. It wasn't like Eddie to come home late and not tell Carla beforehand. "He's probably at the Station. I was the first to leave."
A hand resting on her hip and an eyebrow raised, Carla gave the young man a look that meant she didn't believe him.
"If you need to leave, go! I'll watch over Christopher! Hell, he's probably asleep by now."
Frowning, Carla looked at him with caution, clearly torn between the need to go home and the fear of letting Buck wait for Eddie. She saw herself as a clever woman, and she knew Eddie didn't allow Buck back into his home because of the lawsuit. The young father could deny it all he wanted, but Carla knew he wasn't over it. A big part of that man still resented his friend. Plus, she witnessed firsthand how easily Eddie let his anger out recently. She didn't want him to get a taste of that anger.
"It's going to be okay, Carla! I promise!"
The caretaker gazed into the blond's eyes and saw it. He had that look on his face that screamed his determination. Arguing would lead her nowhere. She grabbed her purse and held his hands. "Call me if you need anything."
Tilting his head to the side, smiling softly, the young man answered. "I will, I promise!"
Patting his cheek with one hand, she added. "And eat something, please! You're all skin and bones!"
Chuckling, Buck nodded. Content with his response, Carla kissed his hollow cheek and left. Once the door closed, Buck turned around and looked intently at his surroundings. This house always felt more like a home than his apartment. He remembered the countless movie nights with Eddie and Chris, the cooking lessons he tried to give the duo, and the weekends they spent together. They were a weird little family, but they were happy.
What happened to us? He asked himself.
Looking to his left, the young man saw the corridor leading to Chris's room, and without realizing it, he started padding through the narrow hallway until he faced the little boy's room. Opening the door quietly, he peeked in at first. He didn't want the hallway's light to disrupt his sleep. But when he spotted the sleepy boy's form and noticed his chest's slow rise and fall, he entered, swiftly closing the door behind him.
Kneeling in front of Chris, Buck delicately stroked his curly hair. "Hey, Superman!" he murmured, his voice hoarser than expected. "I'm sure you don't understand what's going on in your life lately, and I'm sorry for that. I wish I were there when you had nightmares or when your dad needed me. I feel like I failed you both."
Plunging his free hand in his back pocket, Buck fished out the USB key and looked at it briefly before putting it on the boy's nightstand. "I don't know if I can fix what I did, but whatever happens to us, I want you to remember how much I love you. I always will."
Getting up, Buck bent over and kissed Chris's temple tenderly before exiting the room as quietly as he entered.
The door closed, making the little boy's ears twitch at the sound. Slowly opening his eyes, he spotted the little device his Buck had left him. Extending a hand, he grabbed it and held it close to his chest like it was his most precious treasure. A soft sob shook his body. Chris clenched his jaw, refusing to let any sound cross the barrier of his lips. But, as hot tears crashed loudly on his pillow, the spasms grew stronger. Chris turned his head against his pillow to muffle the sound of his distress.
Buck paddled to the living room, trying hard to ignore the pain constricting his heart. When he looked up, he met Eddie's ice-cold stare. The father stood by the couch, his duffel bag in hand. The tension was so thick in the room that they could touch it.
"What are you doing here?" Eddie asked through gritted teeth.
Buck opened his mouth to answer, but his friend didn't let him.
"Get out!" He growled, approaching the blond, who dared not move a finger. Their faces were mere inches apart. "Get. Out!"
Buck never felt smaller or weaker under Eddie's murderous tone and stare. At this distance, the blond could smell the sweat and the alcohol, too much alcohol. His whole body shivered, making him forget how to walk. He opened his mouth, but no words seemed to cross the barrier of his lips.
"GET OUT!!!!!" Eddie yelled suddenly, making Buck jump. The next moment, the blond was out of the door and ran in the streets like a madman.
9-1-1
Buck ran like demons were chasing him, begging him to give up his soul. But his lack of training caught him up, and he fell on his knees at Marina Beach. Hands buried in the sand, the young man tried to regulate his breathing through deep breaths. He hadn't run like that in months since the freaking ladder truck incident. His heart pounded in his ears, but a strange noise caught his attention.
Looking up, the young man saw a group of loud teenagers standing on the pontoon of the port. Frowning, he got up and approached the raucous little group. They seemed to look at something in the water, but Buck couldn't see it. A bad feeling sank into the pit of his stomach. As he came closer, he spotted her. A teenage girl was kicking the water with her arms, clearly struggling to stay afloat. She tried to cry out for help but swallowed water instead. Instinctively, Buck ran toward her and screamed to call 9-1-1 before jumping in. He swam as fast as he could before wrapping an arm around her middle.
"Hey! It's okay; I got you!" He yelled, securing his arm around her before moving toward the pontoon. "I'm a firefighter; I'm here to help. Just stop struggling, and you'll be out of the water."
His reassuring speech worked as she let him maneuver them. They reached the pontoon, but as Buck hoisted her on it, no one helped them. The young girl tried hard to escape the water as her chest landed on the pontoon. She tried to use her legs to hoist her up a little more but kicked Buck's face in the process.
The blond fell back into the depths and let himself slowly sink. Looking up, he saw the bright neon lights getting smaller as he descended. A curious thought passed his mind as he realized these lights looked like wavering starlight, lulling him into a peaceful sleep. If he raised his hand, he swore he could touch them. Part of him knew he should resist that need to give in to sleep, but the night's starry cloak seemed so comfy. All he had to do was close his eyes, and his childhood dream would become reality.
You're exhausting!
Exhausting, yes! But most of all, he was exhausted! Everything hurt since he came back. Walking hurt, talking hurt, and even breathing hurt sometimes.
We all have our problems! Why don't you suck it up?
But he did that for months, except that no one knew that part, and they never will. If only they had given him more time. If only they had tried to put themselves in his shoes and see his side of things. No, he hadn't been there for Eddie and Chris, but wasn't that the whole point of the lawsuit? To get back to them! To him!
GET OUT!!!!!!!!!
It was too late now. He lost them. They wanted him out of their lives, so what was the point of going back? What was the end of fighting when it felt like there was no finish line? He struggled all his life, but he couldn't anymore.
I'm sorry, Chris! I couldn't keep swimming!
The shining light above him slowly lost its sparkle. As darkness slowly swallowed them, Buck gave in to the numbness and closed his eyes, accepting his fate, welcoming it like an old friend.