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"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to thank you all for volunteering to be here this week," Sue says with a knowing smile. She knows as well as Buck does that the majority of the 'volunteers' are not there voluntarily. "As you know, following the hostage situation at dispatch last year, the city has decided to get some back up plans in place in case something like that ever happens again."
Honestly, Buck can see the value in the pilot program that the city of Los Angeles has spearheaded, even if a few of the men and women next to him are muttering under their breath about having to be there at all.
But when dispatch was taken over by a group of armed men that day (a day Buck will never be able to forget as he stood outside, helpless, while his sister's life was in danger), it highlighted a weakness that no one knew they had. Fortunately, there were enough replacement dispatchers to come in to cover for those that had been freed once the robbers were taken down, but it could have been so much worse.
They need back-up.
"Isn't the chance of another hostage situation kind of like, non-existent?" A young woman in a LAPD t-shirt asks. She's not one of the ones that was grumbling about being there, so Buck thinks she may be one of the actual volunteers for the program.
"I sure hope so," Sue laughs easily, drawing chuckles from a number of others in the group. "But it's not just a hostage situation. When the tsunami hit, we lost several dispatchers. Many more were trapped in their homes for several days. Any disaster, man-made or otherwise, has the potential to make 9-1-1 dispatch so severely understaffed that it's no longer functional. Which is where all of you come in."
There are fifteen of them there for training today — firefighters, paramedics, and police officers — though Buck knows there are many more being trained, one week at a time.
One firefighter or paramedic from each of the 106 firefighter houses and two police officers from each of the twenty one police stations will take a one week crash course in covering dispatch, should the worst ever come to pass.
"Look, God willing, this training will be a massive waste of time and funds," Sue says, leaning back against the counter in the break room where they're all currently sitting. "But if it ever comes down to it, 9-1-1 dispatch has to keep running."
"And you think we can learn in one week what your dispatchers learn over the course of, what, months?" This question comes from one of the snarky paramedics that clearly drew the short straw at his house and was forced to be there.
"No," Sue replies calmly, not taking the bait. Buck's respect for the woman seems to skyrocket every time he has occasion to see her. "But we do expect that you will have a functional understanding of the equipment and protocols by the end of your training. All of you will be a stopgap if disaster strikes. A way to keep us afloat and save as many lives as possible until we can restart with trained professionals."
Buck looks around, sees a few people nodding their understanding and only a couple that still look hard done by that they're there at all.
Buck, though, volunteered as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
He'd stayed with Christopher the entire time Eddie was in the hospital recovering from the gunshot wound that nearly took his life, and he'd been happy to do it. That kid is family and Buck loves him more than almost anything else in the world, so when Chris needed him, Buck was there, no questions asked.
But now that Eddie's home…
Buck has never felt more lost.
Going back to his empty apartment was so much colder than he'd expected. And what's more, he wasn't expecting to miss Chris or Eddie as much as he does. When Eddie was in the hospital — once he'd gotten past the touch and go moments at the beginning of his stay — Buck would take Chris there to visit for a couple hours almost every night, letting the boys catch up, letting Christopher see that his dad was truly okay. And even though the circumstances sucked, Buck got used to the time he spent with them there.
At home, though, he has no one.
So when the opportunity came up to get away from regular life for a little, to make a change and distract himself from everything that's happened since the sniper — since he realized that maybe his feelings for Eddie aren't quite as platonic as he once thought — he jumped on it.
"Besides," Sue says, pulling him from his musings before he can get too lost in his own head. "You already have an understanding of how dispatch works, of who needs to be sent to each type of call. You already know how to help the callers, how to keep them calm. You're halfway there already!"
Buck isn't quite sure about that. He's heard Maddie and May talk about some of the calls they've taken, heard even more of the specifics during poker nights with Josh. Dispatch is a lot of work and requires keeping a lot of balls in the air, but he's up for the challenge.
"Now, I'm hoping you've already read the introduction package," Sue smiles, hefting the tome that was sent to them earlier in the week. Buck read the whole thing, but the looks on the other's faces suggests they didn't. "So let's get you all set up with a dispatch buddy for the day."
It's a whirlwind of organized chaos, then, getting each volunteer set up with a dispatcher, but Buck is pleased to find himself sitting next to May when all is said and done.
"Is this just a happy coincidence? Or did you pull some strings?" Buck asks as he takes the headset she gives him and gets it settled in place.
"Umm. I may have asked very nicely for you to be my buddy for the week," May laughs lightly. "But my last buddy was awful and I think Sue felt bad enough that she went along with it."
Buck winces. He knows it must be hard for the dispatchers to go through all of these training sessions. "Let me guess, it was someone who didn't want to be here at all and made sure you knew that?"
"Exactly. At least I know you chose to be here this week," May smiles, but it fades a little after a moment. "I heard you and Taylor broke up. I'm really sorry, Buck."
Buck offers a tight smile. He knows the breakup is the reason that everyone thinks he's here, and he's happy to let them keep thinking that. "Thank you. Taylor is amazing, but we want different things from life. It's best that it ended when it did."
Which is not a lie at all. Buck is ready to settle down, to start a family, and Taylor is too career focused for any of that just now. They decided to stay friends, though, and he truly does wish her the best. It was a long time in the making, but they finally realized they were at different stages of their lives.
And they may have both realized that Buck has feelings for Eddie, too.
It should be awkward, really, but between one day and the next, Taylor went from being Buck's girlfriend to Buck's wingman, and somehow it seems perfectly natural. Not that he's actually heeded any of her advice, which mostly involves going over to Eddie's house and confessing his undying love. Still, it's nice to know he has support.
May reaches out and gives his arm a squeeze, accompanied by a sympathetic half-smile, and Buck accepts it with a nod. He's not quite ready for anyone else to know about his feelings just yet.
Or maybe ever.
"Well, this should help take your mind off of things for a bit," May gestures to the computer set-up in front of them, and Buck gladly follows her lead, getting down to business.
Day one is observation and instruction, only, so Buck listens into each call, watches how May handles it — her interactions with the callers, the information she records in the system, which response teams she dispatches — and then when the call is over, they break down what was done and why.
There's so much to learn.
While many of the calls are simple, or downright stupid, there are a couple that involve contact with multiple firehouses and police units, and May navigates between them effortlessly, directing them where they need to go, keeping all parties informed and safe as they respond to the call.
"That was so bad-ass!" Buck exclaims after one such call. "I had no idea how much work you do to get us all where we need to be. It's kind of amazing."
And the rest of the day just proves that point again and again. May not only rocks every single call, but she takes the time to explain what she did, and what she didn't do, after each call so Buck can understand the protocols beyond what's written in the manual. She's an amazing teacher and Buck couldn't be more grateful that he was paired up with her for his training.
The day flies by, and before Buck knows it he's heading home, the manual by his side to keep him company. He spends the night reading through it, studying the whys and hows until his eyelids are drooping and he drops into bed, mentally exhausted and too tired to listen to the voice in his head that tries so hard to remind him why he's doing this in the first place.
When he wakes up in the morning, he feels refreshed and ready to face the day, to learn what he can, and maybe even save a life or two. He even gets to the dispatch center a little early to chat with some of the dispatchers before their shifts begin, asking what the most challenging and most rewarding aspects of the job are.
"You're really taking this seriously," May says from the doorway, smiling at Buck and waving to the other dispatchers before making her way in to grab a cup of coffee.
"No point in doing something if you're not gonna do it right, right?" Buck laughs.
"Sounds like something Bobby would say."
"It does, doesn't it?"
May finishes doctoring her coffee then joins Buck and the few others at the table, all of them carving out just a little bit of time for a joyful human interaction before a shift full of trauma and grief and anxiety fills their day. And they welcome Buck so easily and so kindly, that Buck already feels like he's finding a new home, only two days in.
It's kind of amazing.
"Okay, Buck," May says as she finishes her last sip of coffee. "You ready to take your first call?"
"Wait. What?" Buck freezes halfway up from his seat, wide eyes darting to May. "Already?"
May's laughter follows her to the sink as she rinses out her mug. "Yep. I talked to Sue about it. You're more prepared than most of the actual new hires we get, honestly."
"Uh. Yeah, sure, but I've only been watching for a day."
He's surprisingly nervous. He knows he's good at keeping a cool head in an emergency, but this is so different from what he's used to, what he's trained for.
"Don't worry. I'll be right next to you. If any complicated calls come in, I'll take over and dispatch teams as necessary. But you already know now that most of the calls that come in throughout the day are fairly standard."
"Or completely ridiculous," Buck says with an eye roll, following May from the break room out to her station. Yesterday saw a call from an elderly woman who couldn't get her oven to work, and a man who called about another driver stealing his parking spot at the mall.
"Nuisance calls are definitely a part of everyday life here," May says with a shake of her head. "But those are the perfect types of calls for you to practice with. Low stakes, but you'll learn how to work the system."
He can't exactly argue with that logic, so he follows her lead in putting on his headset and then reluctantly takes the main chair in front of the computer.
"Okay. Now take a breath," May pauses, waiting for Buck to follow the direction with an arched eyebrow that reminds Buck so much of Athena that he nearly laughs. He bites it down, though, and sucks in an exaggerated breath, blowing it out slowly. He refuses to admit that it actually calms his nerves a little. "And here we go."
With a nod to himself — a reminder that he's capable of doing this, as much as a silent pep talk to himself — Buck answers his first call.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
And so it goes.
Buck handles most of the calls throughout the morning on his own, though May steps in now and again when multiple teams need to be dispatched or time is of the essence. Her experience can shave seconds off of the response time and in some calls, seconds can be the difference between life and death. When those calls come in, Buck rolls his chair to the side and watches her work her magic, learning everything he possibly can.
And overall, the morning goes really well.
Until Buck's entire world crashes down around him.
The call comes at 10:23am, just as Buck is starting to get a hang of answering the calls.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"It's my dad," a small voice, broken and afraid, comes through the line and Buck's blood freezes in his veins. He'd know that voice anywhere. "He won't wake up. And there's blood all over."
"Ch-Christoper?" The word is barely more than a whisper, but still comes out cracked and jagged.
"Bucky?"
It's like as soon as Christopher realizes he's not alone, that he doesn't have to be the brave one anymore, the dam breaks and all of his fear comes pouring out. Buck can hardly even understand the words that filter through the phone line with how they're wrapped up in broken sobs.
"Buck. Dad is...he won't...bleeding...really hot...please."
Buck's mouth and throat are suddenly so dry he can barely speak, but he swallows around it to ask, "Chris, buddy, I—I need you to take a breath. Are you at home?"
The answer he gets is more of a sob than a yes, but it's enough that May is pulling the keyboard from Buck's hands, typing in Eddie's address despite the look of absolute horror on her face. They've all been to enough family gatherings there to know his address by heart.
"Chris. Help is on the way. I need you to tell me what happened, okay?" Years of training for emergencies, years of practice compartmentalizing his own fears when he's on the job, and it all goes out the window with one little phone call. It takes everything in his power to hold it together as he listens to Chris sniffle, as tiny hitched breaths break through his headset like static, shooting straight to his heart and tearing it open.
"I wanted to let dad rest, so I made b-breakfast," Christopher needs to stop, battling to get those words out, and Buck wants nothing more than to rush over and wrap him up in a hug, to keep him safe. "But I dropped the bowl and it broke. But when I tried to wake dad…" Chris' voice becomes muffled, like he's buried his face in Eddie's chest. "He won't wake up."
When Buck looks at May, who is already in contact with emergency services, she rolls her hand, encouraging Buck to keep talking to keep Chris calm, and Buck packs away everything he's feeling so he can be there for Christopher. For Eddie.
"You said he's bleeding, bud. Is it his shoulder? Where he was shot?"
"Yes."
"Okay, Chris, I know this is really scary, but can you tell me if it looks like your dad is bleeding a lot? Or if it's just smeared on his sheets and his shirt?"
He hates asking him to look, but if it's just a matter of Eddie's stitches opening in the night and bleeding a little before it clotted, then they can probably wait for the ambulance to arrive. If he's really bleeding, though, they're going to need Chris to apply pressure.
And Buck prays to God that he won't need to.
"It all looks kind of dry?" It's more of a question than a statement, but Buck considers it a small mercy, nonetheless. If he can keep Chris from getting blood on his hands, Buck will be forever thankful.
"Good. That's real good, Chris. You're doing a great job." He does his best to keep his voice steady and even, to be the rock that Chris needs him to be. "You said he's hot, too? Like a fever?"
"Yeah. His skin is really hot," Christopher pauses then, his voice becoming impossibly quieter as he asks, "Buck, is dad gonna die?"
From the side of his eye, he catches the look May shoots him, silently reminding him to never make a promise that he can't keep, but there's no way Buck is going to give Chris anything but hope.
"No way, Bud. Your dad is a fighter, remember? And help is going to be there soon." Buck only realizes his hands are wrapped tight over the edge of the desk when May wraps her fingers over his, giving him a light squeeze. It's enough of a distraction for him to release his death grip, balling his hands into fists as he blows out a breath and steadies his nerves. "But I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?"
"Okay?"
"Can you tell me if he's breathing?" Buck wants to throw up even asking the question. "Is his chest going up and down?"
There's a few seconds of silence as Chris checks, but it feels like a goddamn eternity. Buck forgets how to breathe and his blood rushes in his ears as he waits to hear the only thing that really matters at the moment.
"Yeah. But it sounds wrong."
Buck huffs out a shaky breath, knowing that any breathing, no matter how laboured, is better than not breathing at all. "Wrong how?"
Chris is still crying, still sniffling, but he seems the tiniest bit calmer as Buck speaks to him, so he keeps it up.
"Does it sound like he's having trouble getting air in? Or does it sound like there's something in his throat?"
"It sounds like when you had that cold," Chris says around a rustling of fabric. Buck thinks he might be crawling up on the bed next to Eddie. "Like his breath is whizzing."
Buck has to remind himself that it's okay. That Eddie is breathing and that's all that matters.
"Okay, Christopher. I want you to keep listening to that sound and let me know if it changes, okay? The ambulance is almost there and they're gonna make sure your dad gets the help he needs. Okay?"
"Are you coming, too?"
Buck doesn't think he's ever heard Christopher sound so small.
"Not to the house. I'm not working at the firestation today," Buck says, hating himself for not being on shift, for not being the one to rush over and help Eddie. "But as soon as we know which hospital they're gonna take your dad to, I'm going to meet you there, okay?"
"Okay."
They talk quietly after that, killing time until Buck can hear the sirens through the phone line. By the grace of God, Eddie keeps breathing the entire time and Buck finally sucks in his first almost-full breath once he knows that help has arrived.
"Okay, bud," Buck says quietly, "here's what's gonna happen. The paramedics and firefighters are gonna come in now. And they're going to make you move out of the way so they can help your dad, okay?"
"Okay."
"And then once they have him ready, they're going to take him to the ambulance and you're going to go with them, okay?"
"Buck, I'm scared."
"I know, Chris. But you're doing so good. Now, we're going to have to hang up here soon and I'm going to call you back from my cell phone, okay? And I'm gonna stay on the phone with you the whole time."
The sudden bang as the door is forced open startles Buck so bad he jumps and makes Chris call out in fear, but then there's the din of voices filling the room and echoing through the line and it's the sweetest sound Buck has ever heard. He only catches snippets of conversation then as Christopher is moved.
Post-op infection.
Here to help your dad, now.
Wound dehiscence.
Come with me.
Tachycardia.
From the sound of it, Chris is taken from the room after that, the voices all fading away behind him as they move. "Bucky, we're going to the ambulance."
"Okay Chris, I'm gonna hang up now, but I'm gonna call you right back, okay?"
In the handful of seconds it takes to call Chris back, Buck is dropping his headset on the desk, ready to run.
"First Presbyterian," May hurries to say, not even attempting to stop him. "Drive safe."
And then Buck is running from the room, slamming the down arrow at the elevator about a dozen times before he bolts for the stairwell instead. He talks to Chris the whole time, slipping his earbuds in his ears the second he gets to the jeep, and he's on the road before Eddie is even taken to the ambulance.
They can't really talk once the ambulance is in motion, the siren making communication a whole lot harder, but the trade off is worth it, knowing that Eddie will get to the hospital infinitely faster.
Buck doesn't have the aid of any sirens, but he also doesn't pay much attention to the speed limit and he makes it to the hospital in record time.
"Buck!" Christopher yells as soon as Buck runs through the emergency room doors, pushing himself to his feet from one of the waiting room chairs. A paramedic that Buck doesn't recognize gets to her feet as well, a steadying hand on Christopher's back as he tries to get to Buck.
This time it's Buck's turn to break. Just a little.
Because seeing Christopher, still in his pyjamas with sleep-mussed hair and tear tracks streaking his cheeks, has Buck's heart shattering in his chest. He drops to his knees the second he reaches Chris, pulling the kid into the tightest hug he thinks he's ever given or received.
"Hey, Buddy," Buck's voice cracks around the lump in his throat and he can't hold back the tears that fight to break free. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."
They stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, until the paramedic clears her throat and Buck finally pulls away and looks up, though he keeps a light hold on Christopher's arm, not entirely sure if the contact is to act as comfort for Chris or himself.
"Thank you for staying with him." Buck wipes the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand. "Do you know what happened? Is he…" Buck's gaze darts to Chris, not sure if they should be having this conversation in front of him. "I'm Buck, by the way, uh, Evan Buckley with the 118."
"Yeah, I was told you'd be coming. It sounds like your whole house is on their way," She says, offering a sad smile. It's rarely a good thing when a house gathers at the hospital and she knows it. "I'm Sierra, and I'm sorry to meet you under these conditions."
"What happened? Is he okay?" Buck asks, skipping any further pleasantries. He needs to know how Eddie is.
"He was doing okay when we got him here. It looks like a post-op wound infection, but we got him on antibiotics as soon as we could. You'll have to wait to hear from the doctors to know for sure, but it looked a lot worse than it was. I think he'll be okay."
The relief is so intense, so sudden, that Buck actually gets a little light headed, his grip on Chris slipping just a little. It takes a few breaths to get himself under control, but he manages a weak, "Thank you," before tugging Chris forward again, into a hug that feels so much less dire all of a sudden.
And then it's a matter of waiting.
Sierra leaves once Buck and Christopher are settled in the waiting room chairs, and the team shows up only minutes after that. Buck does his best to fill them in on everything he knows, and the whole time he never takes his arm from around Christopher's shoulders, keeping him close as the kid leans into his side.
Bobby takes point in speaking to the nurses, obtaining updates as to where Eddie is and how he's doing, and Buck is thankful for the man's stalwart presence in their lives, now more than ever.
There are offers of drinks, which Buck and Chris both politely decline; offers of food, which churn Buck's stomach so fiercely he thinks his breakfast may make a surprise reappearance; and offers of comfort, which they both accept gratefully.
It's a few hours before a nurse comes out with the news they've all been hoping for; Eddie is stable and is going to be fine, he just needs rest and a strong course of antibiotics to battle the infection. He's already been cleaned and stitched and is lightly sedated to help with the pain, and after a little bit of sweet talk to the nurse (and a promise to update Bobby with any changes in Eddie's condition), Buck and Christopher are shown to Eddie's curtained off room.
After everything Buck heard over the 9-1-1 call, all the graphic images that materialized in his mind, he's surprised to see how peaceful Eddie looks as he makes his way to his bedside. His skin is a little sallow, with dark circles painted in broad strokes beneath his eyes, but outside of that, it just looks like he's sleeping, like Buck has seen in the bunk room so many times. It helps to ease the vice-like grip around his heart, just a little.
"He's probably going to be asleep for a while, but you're welcome to stay if you'd like," the nurse says, gesturing to the visitor chair against the curtain that separates the cubicles. At Buck's nod, she leaves them alone, and Buck leads Christopher deeper into the room.
With only one chair, Chris ends up sitting on Buck's lap, dropping his head against Buck's collarbone and curling into him as they sit. Buck can imagine that after all the terror and tears of the morning, the poor kid is probably exhausted beyond measure, so he's not even a little surprised when Christopher's breathing slows down, becomes deep and even in a way that can only mean sleep.
Buck holds him close, but he angles the chair so he can reach out and wrap his fingers over Eddie's hand, squeezing lightly.
And whether it's the fact that both Chris and Eddie are out cold or the fact that Buck is mentally exhausted from all the shit that's happened recently, he just doesn't possess the wherewithal to sit silently like he probably should.
"Hey, Eds," Buck says quietly, keeping his voice low in an effort to leave Chris undisturbed. "Just so you know, Chris is good. He's sleeping now, and you definitely gave him a bit of a scare, but he handled it like a champ and I think he's gonna be just fine."
Honestly, Buck thinks Eddie may have to schedule in a few more sessions with Christopher's child psychologist, but he doesn't want to weigh Eddie down with that now.
"You gave me a bit of a scare there, too," Buck admits with a chuckle that sounds hollow even to his own ears. "I'm kinda gonna need you to stop almost dying on me, okay?"
That day with the sniper is going to haunt Buck's dreams until the end of eternity, a never-ending loop that plays in his mind of the bullet tearing through Eddie's flesh, the spatter of his blood across Buck's face and over his lips. The coppery tang that flooded his mouth. The way Eddie looked at him, shocked, scared, confused, before his eyelids slowly closed. And then how pale he was in the firetruck, hardly even lucid as he asked if Buck was okay before passing out completely.
It makes Buck sick every time he remembers it.
And now, now he can add fuel to that particular nightmare. Christopher's wracking sobs, the sheer terror in his voice as he told Buck that Eddie wouldn't wake up, that he was covered in blood.
Again.
Buck's not sure there's room for anything else.
He closes his eyes, tries to center himself, to let go of all of the fear now that Eddie is here and safe and gloriously alive. He waits until his heart settles, but keeps his eyes closed, focusing his attention on that simple point of contact between them as he speaks, on the heat of Eddie's skin as it seeps into his own. "Because. Uh. Well, I think I'm in love with you. And I can't lose you, Eds. Not like this. Not at all. So I just...I need you to stop almost dying. Okay?"
Eddie's hand shifts beneath Buck's, flipping over so they're palm to palm with their fingers half linked together, and Buck's eyes shoot open at the unexpected motion, his heart beating a rapid-fire pace once again. There's a brief moment, like a step out of time, where Buck thinks how much he likes the look of their hands like that, joined together like he's been thinking about so much lately. But then, his gaze darts up to Eddie's face, to his tired, half-lidded eyes, filled with so much love that Buck stops breathing.
It's pretty clear Eddie is fighting the sedative, and that it's a battle he's going to lose, but he manages to give Buck's hand a gentle squeeze, manages a small nod that tells Buck he was listening, that he heard him.
He even manages to whisper the words, "Love you, too," before he falls back under.
"Oh," Buck breathes, a nearly silent huff that shakes his entire body.
And there's a part of him that says that it's the pain killers, that Eddie didn't really realize what he was saying. But a much bigger part of him knows that that's not true, knows that the love he saw in Eddie's eyes is as real as what he feels in his heart.
And for the first time since those shots rang out through the street, Buck feels like, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.