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“Sweet dreams, honey.” Athena’s words are always like a warm hug in Minnesota winter, a cold breeze in LA summer, a long shower after a call in the mud. Bobby loves her with every fiber of his being, an almost profane adoration, but divine in every part.
“Night, love you.”
The call ends, Bobby’s world becomes silent again – if he weren’t on shift, he would probably use the q-word to describe it – and the summery wind rustling the leaves in the distance, somewhere outside the station, is the only sound he can hear. It’s midnight, the A-shift is resting in the bunk room in a moment of much needed peace after the first half of this exhausting 36-hour.
Things at the 118 are slowly shifting back into their place. Eddie is coming back next week, papers and gear ready for him, his team impatient after everything that happened. The mess with Jonah was hard on everyone, leaving them bruised and torn in more ways than one: a few days without his best paramedics – also closest friends – were hell and it took Bobby a while to stop blaming himself over what had happened – Athena was gentle and caring, holding him as he broke down into guilty pieces of himself, and he could never thank her enough for it.
He exits his office and wanders to the kitchen, his safe place, to pour himself some coffee. It’s not that he can’t sleep, not really, he just doesn’t feel like closing his eyes right now. He has a feeling his dreams wouldn’t be as pleasant as he wishes: the kids not making it, Marcy exhaling her last breath – a memento of his past life – Buck being crushed by a ladder truck and not surviving, Athena’s scarred face without a beating heart, May burning inside the dispatch and never coming out of it, Chim and Hen not making it out alive – infinite fatal versions of what really happened, his mind playing games, like it’s a fun thing to wake up in a pool of sweat and your heart lodged in your throat. So, he doesn’t sleep, even though it would probably be best if he did.
He's pacing slowly around the loft when he first hears it. It’s a quiet whimper, and it comes from the bunk room. The fate he’s avoided through caffeine is taking over someone else, so he slowly makes his way to the room, a worried frown on his face the team would try and analyze as a group project.
“Stay with me, please.” It’s still muffled, but it’s clearer now, Buck’s voice in the silence of the station. He can easily imagine what he’s seeing right now, and he draws nearer to his bed, ready to comfort him.
“Don’t go, no! NO! NO!”
Before he can do something, Buck startles awake, frantic and shouting, and the whole team wakes up, clearly worried for the man, who’s now standing up, looking around as if he’s not really seeing what’s around him.
“Buck, everything ok?” Hen’s tone is cautious and tentative, as she approaches him, Chimney and Ravi behind her, apprehensive, Lucy still getting up, confused.
Buck doesn’t seem to hear her voice, or the hand she waves in front of him. Instead, he keeps talking. “I need to get to him, now.”
He’s not sleepwalking, Bobby is sure of that. It looks more like a flashback, a vivid one, a continuation of the nightmare Buck was having a few moments ago. And judging from his gaze, locked onto his own hands, it’s clear as day what it’s about.
“Don’t touch him, it’s probably a flashback.” He warns the team. “Just talk to him, carefully, and try to get him to breath.”
“Where is he? Please.” Buck’s strained voice is small and painful.
Bobby whips out his phone, tapping on the screen to call the only person who can help with all of this. Everyone here is familiar with PTSD, so he trusts his team to catch the drift and act accordingly, but there’s still someone missing.
“Bobby?” Eddie’s voice is raspy – people normally sleep at two in the morning, Bobby knows that – but he sounds suddenly awake when he speaks again, his brain fully connecting. “What happened? Is Buck ok?”
The worry in his voice hits Bobby, not unexpected, but still. He’s worried himself, but there’s something underlying between Buck and Eddie lately – it probably has been there since the bomb – that’s starting to look clearer.
“He is, physically.” He looks over to where Hen is guiding Buck to the couches, getting him to sit down without laying a hand on him. “He woke up form a nightmare and started having a pretty heavy flashback.” He explains, trying to keep his voice calm and stern. “He’s starting to respond to us, but I don’t think he’s fully processing what’s happening around him.” Bobby pauses. “I think he’s looking for you.”
There’s noise coming from the other hand – Bobby figures Eddie is putting on some clothes. “I’ll be there.” Eddie sounds panicked, like Bobby’s never heard him be.
“Christopher?”
“He’s with Pepa for a sleepover.”
“Drive safe, Eddie.” The call disconnects and Bobby turns his whole attention to his team, praying the bell doesn’t choose the worst moment to ring. “He’s on his way.” He informs them, now sitting near a conscious but lost Buck. “Did he say something else?”
“I need to see him, now.” The young man says, again, like he’s answering Bobby. It’s his most common phrase if Hen’s worried look is enough proof. Murmured at first, the words are now choked out between tears and tremors. Bobby didn’t see it at first: as much as Buck looks still, he’s shaking like a leaf and can’t seem to take his eyes away from his hands, his cheeks streaked with tears.
“It doesn’t go away.” A new, louder cry, pierces the silence of the station, making them flinch. “I want it to go away.”
Now Bobby is sure what all of this is about, and he feels his heart shrink, feeling useless, unable to help ease the pain – he could at least do something the last times, cradling him in the dirt, or washing his hands from the crimson blood and helping him change out of his stained clothes. If he could, he’d take the pain on him in a heartbeat, but he knows he can’t.
For now, all they can do is talk to him, reminding him of where and who he is, who they are and what they do. They sound like broken records, but Bobby can see it’s helping.
Eddie shows up in less than ten minutes – Bobby doesn’t dare asking how, he just hopes the man didn’t break any major traffic laws to get here – looking like a mess himself, running up the stairs so fast he nearly trips when he gets there.
He mutters something that sounds like a greeting, then runs over to the couch, fast but careful, and sits on the coffee table, facing Buck. The team retreats to give them space, Ravi sprinting to the kitchen to make tea as soon as Bobby tells him to.
“Buck, hey.”
His tone is sweet and gentle, and Buck’s eyes snap up in a second, still lost but more aware than they were before, still not seeing but less numb. “Eddie? You’re not real.” He cries.
“I am real, and I am alive.” Bobby is a bit surprised by Eddie’s firm voice, but nothing beats hearing what he says next. “Can I touch you, Evan?”
It’s not even the request, it’s the name. Bobby looks over to Chimney and finds him both wary and surprised by the whole situation. Hen has an apprehensive look on her face but wears a fond expression. Lucy is straight up confused, almost dumbfounded, while Ravi is busying himself in the kitchen, unaware of the developments.
Buck nods frantically, his gaze empty, and Eddie just, takes off his sweatshirt, exposing his bare torso and earning himself shocked looks from the people in the room. “Don’t you dare say a thing.” He’s not embarrassed, Bobby notices, he’s just determined and clearly knows what he’s doing. He wonders how many times this has happened before, if it’s practiced.
Eddie reaches out for Buck in a studied motion, taking his left hand and guiding it until Buck’s fingers are resting on the pulse point on his wrist.
“I’m real, and I’m alive, Evan.” He repeats the phrase like a mantra, over and over again, as he puts Buck’s right hand over his heart.
“I’m real, and I’m alive, Evan.” He says cradling Buck’s face with his free hand, wiping his cheeks, then moving it to cover Buck’s on his chest.
“I’m real, and I’m alive, Evan.” He’s got tears in his eyes as he talks, and finally, after almost fifteen minutes of hell, Buck comes back to himself.
“Eddie.” It’s a plea. “I-I thought… I couldn’t save you. Your blood was all over me and I couldn’t-”
The other man interrupts him kindly. “You did save me, Evan, and now I’m here thanks to you.”
It’s the natural progression of them, when Buck crushes into Eddie, hiding in the crook of his neck, lips on his pulse point while he wraps up around him, clearly reassured by the warmth Eddie’s offering him, a proof of his survival, a beacon in the dark of his mind.
The team leaves them in their bubble, the two men moving enough to lay together comfortably on the couch, Ravi putting two cups of tea on the table and quickly joining the team further away near the kitchen. Nobody says a thing, the team just glad Eddie managed to get there so fast – he would have found a way to get to Buck at all costs. They’re all aware of this thing between them – they also know they’re currently living together after all that happened with Taylor –, maybe Lucy isn’t exactly aware, because as soon as they’re out of earshot she speaks quietly.
“What was that?”
No one dares an answer and Hen just fixes her with a stare that speaks more than words, and Lucy closes her mouth shut, clearly still confused.
The bell rings before Bobby can say anything and they proceed to run downstairs to gear up. As he walks to the stairs, he sees Buck trying to get to his feet, and immediately stops him. “You’re not coming, Buck. You need some rest, so get some sleep and we’ll se how you feel when we come back.”
For a moment he thinks Buck is going to complain, but in the end he doesn’t and Bobby feels his heart swelling with pride at the growth of the man.
Buck hugs him and Bobby returns the grip, loose enough not to hurt, but tight enough to be felt. “Thank you.” He whispers.
“There’s no need to, son” He says. “Now let Eddie take care of you.”
As they leave for the call – it turns out to be a stupid thing – Bobby feels grateful.
He thanks God, for giving Eddie to Buck and Buck to Eddie.