Work Text:
He’s reaching for the gauze on the seventh shelf when the man comes in.
Buck doesn’t pay attention to him. Hen had asked him to fetch a few supplies from the stock room while her and Eddier transferred a patient at the hospital, so he’s filling a box and humming to himself quietly. There’s another doctor in there anyway, a petite woman with short brown hair that he probably would have hit on in his Buck 1.0 days, so he drowns out most of their conversation.
“Look, you’re not even supposed to be in here.” He hears her say, and that’s what finally grabs his attention because she sounds exhausted. He puts down the box, looking over in case she might need help. The man has a greying moustache and worry lines etched into his face that show his age, with a stony expression that says he’s running out of patience. “And anyway, I’m not a tour guide, I’m a surgeon –”
The gunshot sounds and her head snaps back with a sickening crack.
Buck jolts, a gasp catching in his throat. He could’ve reached forward, attempted to ease her fall but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway - she’s dead before she hits the floor.
His eyes dart up, the rest of him paralyzed with panic, and as soon as he catches sight of the silver handgun, held steady in the man’s right hand, another gunshot sounds. He jolts again, whole body falling backwards as he tries to shield his face.
Buck hits the ground hard, but he’s so shocked he doesn’t really feel it. Not at first, anyway. It takes a few moments for the neurons in his brain to catch up, but as soon as they do he’s choking on a gasp because there’s fire lacing up his entire side. He can’t breathe, can't move, can’t do anything apart from squeeze his eyes shut.
He’s praying the man’s gone, because for all he knows the pistol could be now aimed for the back of his head, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it. There’s silence though, so with a tight feeling in his chest he peels his eyes open. He wishes he hadn’t, because the man might be gone but now he’s got the perfect view of that dead surgeon, of the bullet hole in her forehead and that blank expression. Fuck, she’s dead - and sure, he comes across dead people all the time, it’s part of the job, but it’s different when your a victim yourself.
There’s blood pooling beneath him at an alarming rate, and that’s when it hits him that he’s been fucking shot, by a man with a gun, who’s now wandering free in a hospital full of patients and doctors and innocent people. Most importantly, in a hospital with Hen and Eddie.
Distantly, he hears the ping of the elevator, and even though it makes him dizzy, he stretches his head up and sees the doors slide open, like the gates of the afterlife are mocking him. He knows that the elevator is his only chance. Maybe if he can get inside, it’ll take him to a higher floor and he can get help and warn the others.
The blood is slick against his hands, making it even more difficult to move, but push by push he slides himself across the floor. It’s agony, and the journey feels like miles when it’s just a few feet, but he keeps going. It’s his only chance.
—-
“Wait, wait. Let me get this straight,” Hen says, barely holding in her laugh. “You’re not together, you haven’t even had a conversation about the possibility of you being together, and you don’t even know if he likes guys, yet - yet you kissed him anyway? On the Lips?”
Eddie huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. He doesn’t appreciate how much amusement Hen is getting out of this. “It was an accident, okay?”
“An accident?” She whisper-yells. “How do you kiss someone by accident? Please don’t tell me you tripped and fell.”
“I wish.” Eddie grimaces. They just transferred a patient to the North-East wing while Buck was picking up some supplies for the ambulance, and are now heading back. “He was sitting on the couch. I was giving him a coffee, and he looked up at me to say thanks. And, well, I just bent down, and kissed him. It’s like I didn’t even think about it, my body just moved for me.”
She laughs, loudly and obnoxiously. “And he didn’t say anything?”
“I didn’t even realise I’d done it until I was back in the kitchen.” Eddie wipes a hand down his face, groaning. “He was probably too shocked to say anything. Like, I kissed him, who the hell does that?”
“People who are in love.”
“Hen.” He groans. “You are not helping.”
Eddie goes to open the double doors, when a doctor stops him, putting his hand out. “Sorry, I’ve just got a message saying the hospital’s going into lockdown. No one comes in or out.”
Eddie and Hen share a questioning look. Then, sure enough, a few seconds later an announcement comes through the speakers, instructing a lockdown of all floors.
Hen shrugs, looking at her watch. “Must be a drill. Hopefully it won’t last long.”
Eddie nods. They turn around and start to walk aimlessly again while they wait. “So, what do I do with this whole Buck situation? Do I just pretend it didn’t happen?”
“Maybe - and hear me out, okay - you tell him how you really feel?”
“What are you talking about?” Eddie stops, crosses his arms like a child in a tantrum.
Hen sighs, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to try and prie your feelings out of you, Diaz. But come on, I see the way you look at him.”
Eddie gulps, not saying anything. Hen must see the vulnerability in his eyes, and the genuine fear that he might have screwed things up, because her expression softens. She puts a hand on his long-sleeved shirt and rubs it up and down soothingly.
“Hey, Eddie. Buck loves you, yeah? Even if it’s not in that way, he’ll always –”
BANG!
Eddie’s diving for the floor before he even realises it, roughly dragging Hen down with him behind the counter even as she yelps in shock.
BANG! BANG!.
As more gunshots sound, and screams of terror fill the air, Eddie already feels himself hyperventilating. It’s only been just over a year since the sniper, it wasn’t supposed to happen again, he was supposed to be safe but no, he’s going to get shot again, he’s going to bleed out, shit shit shit-
“Eddie, come on.” Hen shouts, yanking at his hand. It’s chaos around them, people running and crashing into each other as they try to find cover. He scrambles to his feet, ducking as another gunshot pierces the air and huddling Hen closer to him.
They dodge screaming people who run for cover, when Eddie’s foot catched on something soft and wet. He looks down, feeling his stomach drop at the body of the young receptionist strewn across the floor in front of him.
Hen’s already on the ground, trying to put pressure on the gunshot wound to the head, but Eddie knows immediately it’s useless.
“Hen stop.” He rasps with urgency. “She’s already gone. We’ve got to go!”
Somehow, he manages to drag Hen away who is shaking, hysterical with panic. He jams his fingers against the button for the elevator. His head swivels around in all directions, eyes scanning for the gun, but it’s difficult to see anything amidst the chaos.
FInally, finally, Eddie breathes a gasp of relief as the elevator doors slide open, only as soon as it does, he feels everything stop. Slow down. Speed up.
He’s frozen in time, uselessly stuck to the spot with his mouth hung open as he stares at the body collapsed, surrounded by their own blood on the floor. They’re still, and the smear of blood to the door tells him they must have dragged themselves in.
But one look at his face and Eddie knows it’s not just anybody. It’s Buck.
Hen moves before he does, falling forward with a cry of Buck’s name. The panic that seizes him is staggering , and he drops into the lift next to Hen, smashing his finger into a random floor so the doors close. He shoves his sleeves up hastily and then his hands hover over Buck, like if he puts them down in the right place he can fix all this.
“Buck, baby. Open your eyes.” Hen sobs, and that’s when he realises with a jolt that Buck’s eyes are closed.
“Hen, is he –”
“I’ve got a pulse. He’s breathing.” She says before he can say the words. Her hands feel along his shirt, the navy being saturated with a sicky red. As soon as she palms a particularly wet spot, Buck groans, shifting away.
Relief crashes through Eddie, and he cups Buck’s face with startling intimacy. “Buck. Buck. Hey, that’s it. You’re okay.”
“Eddie?” Buck slurs, cracking his eyes open. They clench shut before fluttering open, and Eddie can see how much pain he’s in, his whole frame trembling.
“You’ve been shot.” Eddie says, because there’s no point in lying.
Buck’s eyes widen at that, clarity coming back to him. He tries to sit up suddenly so Eddie pushes him back. “Gun. The man has a gun.”
“We know.” Eddie soothes. “Just stay still. It’s going to be okay.”
Buck slumps back, and that’s when the elevator doors slide open again. This section of the floor seems to be empty, probably having been evacuated in the lockdown, and Eddie wastes no time in slinging Buck over his shoulder. It painfully mirrors that day of the sniper, only the roles have been reversed.
They find a small room and lay Buck’s body down onto a metal gurney, quickly pulling down the blinds for all the windows. They don’t know where the shooter is, but he could easily come up onto this floor.
“He’s losing too much blood.” Hen rushes through the words. “Help me get him on his side.”
Eddie does, and he can see Buck gritting his teeth. Hen uses a pair of scissors to rip his LAFD shirt away, and it’s then that Eddie finally sees the bullet wound. It’s on his right side, and he’s willing to bet the bullet is lodged somewhere in his ribs, since there’s no exit wound.
“We have to get him out of here, Hen, we have to.” Eddie says.
“The shooter could be anywhere. We can’t move him.”
“Well, we can’t just do nothing!”
Hen catches his eye. “You start an IV, I’m going to set up a test tube. The bullet’s still in there somewhere.”
“A chest tube?” Eddie says, frantically. “You’re not a surgeon - do you even know what you're doing?”
“I haven’t done one before, but I’ve seen enough videos in med school.” she gulps. “I’ll wing it.”
Buck’s panting, fists clenching and sweat is running down his forehead.
“I don’t like this.” Eddie says.
“Me neither. But we’ve got no other choice.”
Eddie knows she’s right. At the rate he’s bleeding, he’ll be long dead by the time they can get a real surgeon up here, or the shooter is taken down. He closes his eyes in defeat. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”
“Get the betadine ready, and I’ll do the rest.”
Eddie nods, grabbing it from the side and being thankful that at least they crashed into a room with at least a few supplies. As Hen busies herself at a table to his right, he puts his focus on Buck, who’s rapidly blinking and still shaking.
“Buck, hey.” Eddie leans down, getting his attention. Buck looks at him with wide, panicked eyes. “We’ve got to put in a chest tube, okay?”
“That’s –” Buck starts, voice nothing but a pain-filled croak. “That’s gonna hurt like a bitch, isn’t it?”
Eddie winces, feeling immense guilt but knowing that there’s no other way. “I’ll be right here, okay? Right here.” He grabs Bucks hand, lacing their fingers together.
Buck grips it back with surprising strength. “Do it.”
Eddie and Hen share a nervous glance. She gives him the go ahead with a nod so he rubs a fair amount of the betadine onto the area. Hen wastes no time, putting the sanitised blade to the skin, and pressing in.
Buck’s reaction is immediate. He tightens his hold on Eddie and shouts through gritted teeth, and as Hen digs deeper it bleeds into a harrowing scream.
Hen pauses. There are tears tracking down her face. “You need to keep him quiet, Eddie. The shooter could be anywhere.”
He reaches over, finding a rag on a side table and balls it up. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He repeats as he gently stuffs the rag into his mouth.
Hen gets back to work, and this time when Buck screams, it’s still horrific and painful and grating, but it’s muffled. He holds it there in place, mumbling apologies over and over again, as he feels wetness on his own cheeks.
Buck thrashes on the table, writing from the pain as he continues to shout and sob.
But finally, the chest tube is in and Hen is pressing blood-soaked gauze to the area as she cries quietly. Buck goes boneless, panting. There are tears dripping down his cheeks and he looks completely wrecked, but at least he’s still alive.
“I’m done.” Hen rasps. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It’s done.”
Buck doesn’t respond, but Eddie’s not sure if it’s because he doesn’t hear her or he’s just too exhausted to say anything.
Then, they can do nothing but wait.
Eddie doesn’t stop his endless stream of reassurances to Buck, who stares back at him, in a daze. Every now and then he’ll groan or try to let out a broken sob, but he doesn’t have the energy for much.
Hen stays put by one of the windows, peeking through a gap in the blinds, hypervigilant. It’s absolutely terrifying, the knowledge that a crazy guy with a gun could be round the corner and they wouldn’t know it. Eddie already knows that he’s going to be filing this away in his ‘Top Ten Traumas’, assuming they make it out of this alive.
“Eds.” Buck grunts, and it’s the first thing he’s said since their emergency field surgery. It gives Eddie a surge of hope. He’s hanging on. “Why - why’d you kiss me?”
Eddie’s mouth goes dry, his mind short-circuiting. “I don’t know.” Is all he can think to say.
Buck’s eyebrows draw together. “Please.”
“Fine.” He relents, because Buck is hurting and he just wants to make it stop. “I kissed you because it felt right. Because I wanted to.”
The smallest smile pulls at Buck’s lips, before it quickly turns into a grimace as he coughs, convulsing on the table. Eddie realises with dread that there’s blood on his lips, trickling down his chin. He wipes it away. It doesn’t belong there.
“Hurts.” Buck manages, before he coughs again, more violently this time.
Eddie feels helpless, and it’s starting to dawn on him that they might not wriggle their way out of it like they usually do. This might be the end of the line.
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Eddie murmurs. He looks to Hen helplessly. “What do we do?”
Hen checks over the wound again, pulling back the gauze with a frown. Eddie could have done it, but he’s too worked up, so terrified he knows he won’t be able to think straight.
“Shit.” She whispers. “He’s losing too much blood. He needs a transfusion and we don’t have anything here.”
“How long has he got?”
Hen doesn’t answer, just looks at him with a heavy expression and he knows his answer. They are running out of time.
“I’ll go. I’ll get it.” Eddie’s speaking before he thinks. “I can be back in a few minutes.
Hen shakes her head. “Eddie, you can’t. That’s insane. The shooter could be anywhere.”
“I don’t care.” Eddie says. “It’s Buck. I have to do this.”
A hand clutches at his wrist tightly and Eddie looks down. Buck’s eyes are wide, fearful. “No. Don’t - don’t go. Not for me.”
“You’re going to be fine. I’ll be right back.”
“No, no, Eddie.” Buck whines, head falling to the side. “Don’t. Hen, don’t let him.”
Hen seems to be stuck, her mind racing with the decision. Either Eddie goes, and possibly gets shot by a gunman, or he stays, and Buck most likely bleeds out on this table. It doesn’t matter though, since Eddie’s already made up his mind. He moves toward the door.
“Eddie.” Buck cries, louder and more desperate. “Don’t go. Please. Hen - Hen stop him.”
“Don’t you dare give up on me, Evan.” Eddie says, and then he’s stepping into the unknown and closing the door softly behind him.
He’s creeping through the halls, turning corners with held breath and expecting each second to be his last. The floor seems empty, but that just makes his boots against the floor that much louder in the silence.
By the time he’s got the equipment for the transfusion and is pushing the cart of supplies back where he came from, he’s making good time. He releases a breath, because a few more turns and one more corridor and he’s made it, he’s so close, he’s –
“Stop.”
Eddie feels every muscle, every ligament in his body lock up. He doesn’t breathe.
“Turn around.”
Slowly, he takes his hands off the handles of the cart and raises them, turning on the spot. The man is down the hall from him, and if you asked him to describe the man he wouldn’t be able to, since his entire focus is on the silver gun held firmly in his hand, raised and pointed at his chest.
“Are you a surgeon?” The man says. There’s anger in his voice, and a whole lot of sadness, but Eddie knows that makes a dangerous combination.
In another situation he would have laughed, because he’s in his LAFD T-shirt, with suspenders and his turnout pants, so he’s obviously not a surgeon. He shakes his head anyway. “I’m a firefighter.”
He’s relieved his voice comes out strong and steady, even if he feels like he’s falling apart on the inside.
The man scans down his body, noticing the uniform. “You can go. But leave the transfusion.”
Eddie’s taken back. He definitely didn’t think the man would just let him go, but he also doesn’t know what the guys game plan is, so he doesn’t question it.
“I can’t.” Buck will bleed out without it.
“Leave or I’ll shoot you.” The man says, and Eddie believes him.
“Please,” Eddie says. “I’ve got a son. He’s only ten. And his - his best friend is about to bleed out. I need to help him.”
The man doesn’t say anything, levelling him with a steely glare. The gun is unwavering.
But Eddie stands his ground. He’s not giving up. He won’t.
“You don’t have to do this.” Eddie says. “I’m going to walk away now.”
“Don’t. I’ll shoot!” The man seems to become almost desperate, but Eddie can’t entertain this any longer. Buck’s still bleeding out.
Slowly, with shaky legs, Eddie starts to turn around. He puts his hands on the handles of the cart, not stopping when he hears the man take a step towards him.
His heart is thundering against his chest, and Eddie distantly wonders if he’s ever been more scared in his life. It’s so much worse than the sniper, because that was a haze of pain, but this - this is excruciating. It’s like he can feel the gun trained on his back, and this time it’s not him bleeding out but it’s Buck. It’s Buck.
Somehow, he walks, getting further down the hallway and for a moment he thinks he’s going to make it.
BANG!
The sound is so jarring his whole body jerks into the cart, and he grips the handles tighter so he doesn’t keel over. It takes him a second, but he realises he’s not actually shot, and he spots the burn mark on the floor of where the bullet struck against the floor just a few inches from his shoe.
“I told you not to move!” The man screams. He sounds unhinged, which makes him unpredictable.
But Eddie can’t stop now, so even though it goes against every one of his instincts, he puts one foot in front of the other and keeps. Moving. Forward.
For Buck for Buck for Buck.
He’s almost at the end of the corridor, when there’s a distinct click that pierces the air. He freezes, recognising the sound for what it was and his head snaps back to the man.
The man curses under his breath, and god, the gun was aimed right at the back of his head. The man fumbles for more bullets, searching his pockets, and Eddie knows this is his chance.
He legs it. Pushes the cart through the halls and sprints, no longer caring about being noisy.
Eddie’s gasping for breath, on the edge of hyperventilating when he barrels into the room, slamming it shut and letting his back thud against it. There are black spots clouding his vision, but he’s still laser focused on Buck.
He’s still sprawled on the table, lying in a bed of blood, and he leans down to cup his face, and –
And he freezes.
Buck’s eyes are closed.
He’s still. So fucking still.
And Hen’s sobbing, hands clutching his stomach and murmuring for him to just wake up.
Shock’s a funny thing. In the moment, he realises he’s in shock. Well, he must be, since it feels like his hole brain and body and existence has just -
Stopped.
Working.
He might be crying. It’s likely. He’s pretty certain he’s got his hands on Buck’s chest, and they're pushing down over and over and over, but if he were to recount it he wouldn’t be able to remember a single thing.
There’s a cracking, and it reminds him of when he broke that guy's nose in the fight ring, and then there are voices - lots of them. Lots of voices and hands and people being awfully annoying. Now, he might be screaming.
There are images of Bobby and the others, but it’s all far away.
Really, if he’s honest, he thinks he might still be in that hallway. A gun trained against his back. Buck bleeding out in a room on the same floor. Blooding spilling from a bottomless wound. Trapped.
So, actually. No. Shock’s not a funny thing.
There’s nothing funny about it.
***
Bobby’s spent too much time sitting by hospital beds. He can feel the grey hairs sprouting now.
Him, Chimney and Ravi had been waiting in the truck while Buck went on the supply run and Hen and Eddie transported the patient. Only five minutes go by, and then they hear the hospital has gone into lockdown.
Hearing the gunshots, and being trapped on the outside, was unbearable. An hour went by. Another hour. More gunshots and no news. He’d tried for their radios, only to realise they’d shucked off their turnouts.
But what really nearly had him collapsing to his knees, was seeing Buck - the firefighter he sees as a son - being wheeled out on a stretcher, covered in blood, deathly pale, and not breathing.
Hen was inconsolable, barely able to get the story out between the sobs. And Eddie seemed almost delirious, completely disconnected from reality. In a different situation he would be worrying they’d been dosed with hallucinogens again with the way he was acting.
But Buck made it through. Because he’s a damn fighter and Bobby didn’t doubt him for a moment.
“I don’t wanna see him.” Buck mumbles. He’s drugged up on so many pain meds Bobby can see the fog clouding his mind, making it difficult to think.
Bobby frowns. “Why not? He’s been out of his mind with worry. Seriously, I’ve never seen him like this.”
Buck huffs, like he’s not sure how to communicate his feelings.
“Hey, kid. It’s okay. You can talk to me –”
“He left!” Buck bursts. There are tears in his eyes. “I begged him not to go - but he just, he just left like his life means nothing. I mean, the shooter was still out there, and what if, what if he got shot? What if he died?”
“But he didn’t.” Bobby’s not surprised that this seems to be the route of it all. Buck and Eddie, and their relentless need to sacrifice themselves for the other. “How is this any different from when you climbed that crane? Or when you tried to go back down into that well after him?”
Buck sputters. “It’s completely different, because I’m - I’m not worth it.”
“Buck, of course you’re worth it. You’ll always be worth it. Especially to Eddie.”
Buck shakes his head. “I’m so mad at him.”
“Yeah, well,” Bobby smiles. “That’s because you love him.”
Buck looks at him, but doesn’t seem taken back or angry at Bobby’s words.
Eventually, Buck relents, and Eddie practically bursts through the door, all wide eyes and frantic energy. Bobby gives them space, and as he sits in the waiting room he can see them through the window.
Eddie’s hands are moving wildly, and Buck must be spitting harsh words by the look on his face. He thinks about interrupting, but in the end doesn’t. He’s pretty sure they need this. To scream and fight and hate each other almost as much as they love each other.
He gets coffee, and when he comes back, passing the window, he sneaks a glance in.
A small smile graces his lips. They’re both asleep, Buck propped up in bed with Eddie curled up in the chair beside him. But they’re holding hands, and Bobby knows, without a doubt, that they’ve got each other, so they’ll be alright.