Chapter Text
The streets of LA are cold and damp in the midst of a February freeze. Breath hangs like mist in the air, and weather stations warn of snow and ice in the coming days. It’s an unusual winter, and the citizens of LA are displaced by its appearance.
It’s a time in which the 911 dispatch centre is over-run with calls, but for the first time in three years, Evan Buckley is unconcerned with the wail of sirens that seem to blanket the city.
For the first time in three years, they’re not his problem.
Reacclimatised to the harsher winters of more northern Chicago, Buck is dressed in thick denim jeans, sturdy boots and a thick long-sleeved top covered with a leather jacket. Matched by his slightly shorter partner, the two familiarise themselves with the city streets on route to their destination.
Striking blue eyes scan the area with practiced ease, even technically off duty. One of Chicago’s finest, Jay Halstead has been through a lot, and knows more than most how dangerous it can be to let one’s guard down for even a second. Even as the street opens up to an expansive terracotta building, even as Buck raps quickly on a side door and they’re ushered inside, he still keeps his gaze sharp and focused.
Only the light squeeze on his lower arm from his partner works to relax him but a fraction as a short, mousy woman approaches the pair.
“You must be Detectives Halstead and Severide.” She says curtly, watching them, hawk-like. “I am Senior Agent Hetty Lange. You’ll be working with my team.”
Buck, ever the intermediary, politely offers his hand. “A pleasure.”
“Indeed.” She eyes his hand much like the rest of them, then turns on a heel and gestures for them to follow.
“Senior Agents Callen and Hanna. Agents Blye and Deeks.” She introduces the four people huddled around a set of desks, computers and a large whiteboard. “Detectives Halstead and Severide.”
As Hetty makes her disappearance as quickly as she’d appeared, the six make their own quick introductions.
“Call me Evan.” Buck tells them. “Or Severide, either will do. Former SEAL, firefighter, and four years Intelligence.”
It seems strange to surmise his past ten years in a single sentence – a machine more than the sum of his parts – and yet he’s thankful not to linger on it too much; to dredge up the reasons he no longer called this city home.
Pleasantries done and steaming cups in hand, they’re quick to delve into the case, sharing information collated between the two targeted cities, and their insights into the investigation. Part way through a heated discussion of the potential offender profiles, instigated by Blye, Evan’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he excuses himself momentarily.
“Severide.” He answers.
“Evan,” comes the gruff greeting of his pseudo father figure and boss, Hank Voight. The once dirty cop had a penchant for taking in strays, and Evan had been no different, especially in his early days in Chicago when he and his brother had failed to see eye to eye. “You two make it there okay?”
“All set, Sarge.” Evan responds. “The NCIS team and ourselves are just sharing case data and discussing options. We’re likely to go the undercover route, but we want to cover all our bases.”
“Okay. You know you do what you gotta do to take this guy down.” Hank replies, voice hard and unwavering. “We just had another body dumped down riverside, so I want this guy away yesterday, got it?”
“We got is Sarge.” Evan nods, fist unintentionally clenching around his phone at the thought of another innocent life lost.
“Stay safe, kid.”
Evan nods, knowing the words aren’t solely about the case at hand. “Always.”
He makes it back to the others in time to hear Hanna say “so you and your partner are okay going in?” to Jay, and he can’t help but smirk in response.
“You’re looking at the best undercover officers in Chicago, so yeah, we’re good.”
Jay claps him on the shoulder with a matching grin. “You heard him.”
They arrange for the op to start at dawn the next day, leaving Buck and Jay with the evening free. In any other circumstance, they may have used the time for leisure or for further work, but Evan has no desire to step too far back into the life of LA, and Jay has his partner’s back no matter what.
Still, under the glow of the streetlamps filtering through the thin, moth eaten curtains of their hotel room, Buck finds himself restless, plagued with memories like nightmares and nightmares like memories. Unblinking red eyes stare at the ceiling, and then he slips quietly out the door.
6 months ago
Walking into the station, back straight and head held high, letter in hand, Buck knows he’s doing the right thing. As much as his pride doesn’t want to take the hit, he knows if he apologises for straying his temper, accepts the desk duty, works hard and proves himself, then he’ll be back where he belongs in no time.
He just needs a little patience is all. Never his strong suit but… first time for everything, right?
Except, he barely even steps a foot on the rung of the ladder before voices have him freezing where he stands.
“- hasn’t left the apartment – “
“It’s life, right? Suck it up and move on.”
“What does Buck have?”
In an instant, his heart shatters. The letter tears and crumples beneath clenched fists, and in one small moment he knows… he knows he’s fighting this alone.
He doesn’t break completely until Bobby admits his part in keeping Buck away – until he’s sure they’re doing everything to replace him. Until he knows, with absolute certainty, that they don’t care about him as much as he cares about them.
So he sues.
And he knows it’s the stupidest idea as soon as he puts it in motion – as soon as he hands the notice to Bobby – but its all he has.
And when cold, hate filled expressions stare right through him from the elevator at the lawyer’s office, he knows he’s lost them regardless of the outcome.
He knows, with finality, that he never stood a chance.
As soon as that firetruck crushed his leg, he was gone and done and out.
As soon as the embolism knocked him down once again, he was alone and scared and left in the dust.
As soon as the tsunami hit, LA became colder and bleaker.
As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, he knows he no longer has a home here.
So he does what Evan Buckley (Or Severide, depending on who you asked) does best.
He runs, all the way back to Chicago, where it all began.
And there, staring up at the grey expanse of CPD district 21, faced suddenly with the father figure he’d all but pushed away, he breaks down.
And there, held in the strong, unwavering embrace of the man who refused to let him go even when he ruined it all, he lets it all out.
Then, faced with the teary blue eyes of the partner who never gave up on him, who called every day without question or preamble, and pulled into those arms also, he realises that he is still loved.
He is not alone.
And there, Evan Buckley-Severide begins to heal.
His evenings without his son are few and far between (not that he would have it any other way) and yet when those evenings do arise, Eddie Diaz finds himself trailing an old, familiar route through LA City Park.
It was a route once taken with a friend, and every moment of his journey reminds him of the man he once loved; the man he pushed away until he lost him completely.
Every moment reminds him of all he regrets.
That evening however, with the moon hanging low in the sky, Eddie glimpses a figure all too familiar and wonders briefly if he’s dreaming. His mouth moves, forming long unspoken syllables, and then – between one second and the next – the figure is gone; taken into the night, as if he never existed at all.