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Hen had noticed that Buck wasn’t as hyper as he normally was.
For two days, he’d come in for his shifts on time, but he looked more and more rundown. He could still do his job, but his level of exuberance was much less than normal. Gone were his weird facts (which he’d only recently started giving them in the truck, and she had grown used to hearing the most obscure ones) and in their place was almost silence.
Considering how fast it happened, it was a surprising change. And honestly, she didn’t like it.
At the end of last shift, she had tried to pull him aside to check in with him, but he’d ducked out right as B-shift arrived. That was another sign that something was different. In his nearly five months since joining the 118 as their probie, he always was the one to stay as late as possible, to learn what he could.
Bobby caught her eye after she changed back into her street clothes. They’d been talking more after shifts, now that things were pointing towards them being more like a family. It was nice. And with Chimney still out after his injury, it was good to touch base with her captain.
“If Buck comes in tomorrow and you see him before me, send him home,” Bobby said in lieu of a greeting.
Hen’s raised an eyebrow. “Should I ask why? Sure, he’s been a little bit less exuberant, but he hasn’t made any mistakes in the last week or so.”
Bobby shook his head. “He’s sick and denying it. I think it’s just a fever, but he won’t talk to me about it. I want him to actually get some rest.”
Hen slowly nodded. “Got it. Send home the sick boy before he infects us all.”
Her captain’s bark of laughter was wonderful. “That’s putting it simply, but yes. Just in case. Maybe it’ll teach him a good work-life balance.”
Hen chuckled. “Just don’t tell him that. He’ll call you on hypocrisy, you know it.” She waved on her way out, still laughing.
To her surprise, Buck actually called out for their next shift.
Bobby had told her as soon as she came upstairs that Buck had actually texted him that he was sick, and would be taking the day. (The implied “Please don’t fire me” was loud and clear, and completely ignored.) They ended up having an actually calm shift, one that would have been good to have Buck around, if only so that some extra chores could have been taken care of.
But there was something nagging her all shift. Buck clearly didn’t like admitting weakness, and for him to call out, or text out as it were, meant he must be actually sick. She was actually worried. Buck was only in his mid-twenties, still learning to take care of himself. She knew he drifted after leaving Pennsylvania after he finished school, though she didn’t know for how long. Did he know how to take care of himself while sick?
She sent a few texts over the course of the shift, just checking in on him, asking if he was getting enough fluids and taking medicine, but everything was left on read. After the fourth went unanswered, she came up with a plan.
As soon as their shift came to an end, she grabbed Bobby and asked him for Buck’s address. But it turned out she didn’t need to, as Bobby was just as worried. So instead, they set off to Buck’s place together, just wanting to check in on him.
When they pulled up to what could only be described as a frat house, Bobby was already clearly making plans. They could hear the music from the road, and people were coming in and out of the open door.
This was not a good place for a sick person.
“If he’s just hungover, I’m gonna strangle him,” Bobby muttered.
Hen shook her head. “If he’s hungover, I’d be surprised. He looked sick at the end of shift. I just hope he’s somehow sleeping through all this.”
They both got out of Bobby’s truck, and Hen took the extra moment to grab the small medkit that she’d taken from her own vehicle. She had a bad feeling she’d need it.
“If he’s in his room sick and alone, I'll call in an anonymous noise complaint once we take care of him. He’ll need peace and quiet, not a frat party after the Super Bowl.” Bobby slowly moved through the group of twenty-somethings, none of them even paying them the least bit of attention.
“I’ll just text Athena,” Hen said. “She’ll have a field day with this. She’s finally found a soft spot for Buck, at least.” And she had, after he saved her life and had formally apologized to her, unprompted at a scene a few weeks ago. She’d been surprised to say the least, but had accepted it.
When they were driving over, Bobby had told Hen what he knew about Buck’s living situation. Apparently, he was saving for an apartment, but being Los Angeles, it was still too expensive, so he lived with roommates. His room was the first on the left upstairs. He’d told Bobby just in case they ever had a situation or needed to get him.
“Like when you and him came to help me,” Bobby had said, and left it at that.
Once they got inside Buck’s building, it took them a second to find the staircase, mostly because it was half blocked by a crude DJ set up. Luckily they were able to get around it (and the two couples making out on the stairs themselves).
“We’re moving him out of here even if I have to help him pay for it,” Hen declared as soon as they were on the second floor. Even with the partial blockage to the upstairs, there still were a good amount of people moving in and out of all the rooms, bar one. The one with a piece of painter’s tape across it.
Keep out was scrawled across a paper clinging to the tape. It only took a second to recognize Buck’s handwriting, though it was much more messy than normal. Bobby pulled a key from his pocket and quickly slid it into the lock.
A just-in-case key, Hen realized. The same that she had with Bobby. He really was listening and learning from them.
They ducked under the tape and quickly got inside, shutting the door tightly behind them. With the door shut, the wood muffled a decent amount of sound, but not enough. Once they were sure no one was going to follow them in, they turned to Buck, sprawled on his bed.
It seemed they both had reason to worry after all.
Buck had managed to strip off his shirt when he’d come home the day prior, but that was it. He was completely unconscious on top of his sheets. Flat on his back, they were able to see the sheen of sweat across his forehead, indicating the fever Bobby thought he had was present after all.
Hen immediately started digging through her bag for the thermometer. Quickly taking it, she was relieved to see that it wasn’t hospital-level, but it was higher than she liked. From there, she went about treating him like she would any patient, doing a full work up.
While Hen was busy, Bobby looked around the room, taking in just how un-Buck-like it was. While he did have furniture, it was clearly from garage sales and gifts, nothing matching. Several cardboard boxes were stacked to one side, with some of his academy study materials neatly on top.
(If Bobby flipped through some of Buck’s notes while he waited for Hen’s prognosis, that was on him. Buck took good notes, he noted.)
Once he saw Hen rock back onto her heels, he stopped glancing around and focused on her.
“He’s going to be just fine. Yes, he has a fever, but everything else checks out. He’s just overworked himself.” Bobby breathed a sigh of relief at Hen’s words. He wouldn’t admit it out loud - not yet, anyway - but he’d grown to have a soft spot for the young man.
She ran her hand through his ungelled bangs, ignoring the feeling of fever-sweat on her fingers. He had been pushing himself, Hen knew. He’d spent the last month or so, even before Chimney’s accident, trying to learn all that he could. She’d seen him off in corners after late night calls, too hopped up on adrenaline to sleep, with her old paramedic textbook that she may or may not have left out for him. He was also working out more, to get himself stronger, as well as taking classes at the academy to add to his specialties. He was trying to apologize in his own way for how he acted before.
He suddenly started muttering under his breath, eyes darting around behind closed eyelids. Hen leaded forward to see if she could make out the senseless words slipping out of his mouth. The dream only lasted a minute before passing, letting him settle again.
“He was calling out for someone, Bobby,” Hen said, turning to look at her captain as the man moved to the other side of the bed, letting a hand rest on his shoulder. With his other, he tugged up the discarded comforter, letting it settle across his chest.
“Did he say a name?” he asked, looking down at the young man, settled again. “Maddie I think? Is that a girl he dated?”
Bobby shook his head. “I’m not sure. After everything, he stopped naming-dropping his dates. And now that he’s starting with Abby… Maybe that’s who he was trying to say?”
“Maybe,” Hen allowed. She kept her hand combing through his hair, keeping him settled.
The two of them settled in to sit with Buck for a while longer, keeping guard both over his dreams and away from his housemates. When he was better, they would encourage him to move out, even if it was to one of their couches. Anything was better than this.
But for now, they were his guardians. It’s a role neither minded.