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It had been a good few years since the bombing when someone brought it up.
The subject wasn’t taboo in the station or the city by any means. It was still discussed, but almost in a detached manner. When a member of the 118 was around, the conversions would be stilted, pretty much out of respect for those personally affected by that night.
Nowadays, it was usually the parents of visiting schoolchildren or very green probies that mentioned it in any way. If they did so to the 118, whoever was in the conversation would glance around to make sure who was in earshot before answering. If it was directed towards someone from A-Shift, there was always an audible pause before giving whatever information was being seeked.
This worked out rather well for years. Most people kept their more invasive questions away from Buck, which he completely supported since remembering the bombing and the months afterwards always triggered at least a few days of nightmares.
Well, it worked until Ravi graduated to being a full firefighter and a new probie arrived at the 118.
Desmond Reynolds joined the 118 with a rather impressive academy record and a bit of a competitive streak, as well as a severe lack of boundaries when it came to topics that not everyone wanted to talk about. According to Albert, who had moved over to instructing at the Academy as soon as his own probie year was up and was loving it, once Reynolds heard he was assigned to the 118, he was ecstatic because he was with the people who were always in the action, and he wanted to know everything.
“The man is good,” Albert said when he called Bobby to give him a heads up. “He earned his high marks. But he also doesn’t like to not know something. He’s going to ask and push.”
The captain had made a mental note to catch the man and gently disabuse him from asking a lot of invasive questions. Bobby could read between the lines - Reynolds liked knowing the hard stuff.
Three days later, the man himself arrived and for the most part, the morning passed uneventfully. Introductions had been made, chores had been easily completed without interruption, and Ravi hid Buck’s clipboard when he tried to triple check the contents of the supply room only ten minutes after Ravi himself had completed the task (to the utter hilarity of the rest of the shift; Buck’s easy smile made it clear he’d done it on purpose).
The afternoon had them out to a few emergencies, but those ended up being simple animal rescues and a few medical non-emergencies. Even the four-car accident they were called to was handled quickly and without incident. The whole time, Bobby kept his eye on the new probie, but he seemed to be fine. Asking relevant questions as needed, doing tasks as requested without complaint. Maybe Albert was just worrying for nothing, he thought to himself.
Back at the station, everyone broke apart to do their assigned tasks, resetting the truck and ambulance or heading off to fill out paperwork. Once he was done with his report, Buck headed towards the heavy bag to get in a quick workout. He’d only just gotten into a grove when someone’s voice, one that he didn't completely recognize yet, interrupted him.
“Damn Buckley, what did you do to your leg? Lose a fight to a weedwacker?”
Buck pulled out his headphones, having only heard the question during a song transition. He turned to see Reynolds with his arms crossed, eyes locked onto Buck’s scarred leg. Since he’d changed into his gym clothes, the scars from the bombing and surgeries, as well as a few from the tsunami, were on clear display.
He shrugged. “Life,” he answered. In all honesty, he tried to not think about them all that often. They were a part of him, sure, but he didn’t like them or to have attention drawn to them. It had been a long while since someone at the station mentioned them, and Ravi had asked if he was okay to talk about it before asking his questions.
“Nah, there’s a story there. Did you lose a fight to a rabid dog or something?” Reynolds leaned in a bit closer.
“I don’t talk about it. I’m going back to my workout, thanks.” Buck slid his headphones back in and turned his back, going back to his music and the rhythm of his workout. He could just make out that voice behind him over the bass, soon joined by two others, then silence. After a few moments, Bobby moved into his sightline. He didn’t interrupt him, just gave him a look that clearly said come find me later. Buck acknowledged it with a quick nod.
Ten minutes and a very quick shower and change later found Buck in the kitchen helping Bobby prepping for dinner.
“So, what’s up? I heard you and Eddie,” Buck said, focused on carefully chopping his potatoes into wedges.
“Once you turned your back on Reynolds, he got louder in demanding to know about, you know.” Bobby gestured towards his leg. “Eddie cut him off, telling him to google it.” Both paused and looked at the man in question sitting on the couch with Hen, knee deep in the middle of a conversation. “When Reynolds pushed for more details, I came over and led him away. Gave him the same spiel I give everyone who wants more details out of your life.”
“The one you give to anyone who covers here? The one you didn’t bother to give to Ravi, because that man reminds me of a grown up Christopher, made of sunshine and wit?”
The man in question paused at the top of the staircase, gave them both a look, and quickly joined Eddie and Hen in whatever they were planning.
Bobby chuckled at the accurate description. “Reynolds is cooling off in the bunks. If he bothers you again about it, let me know. I’ll send him over to B-shift for a bit. They need a heavy rescue guy as is.”
Buck shrugged. “I don’t really mind. Just wish people could just take the time to think before asking.” He set down the knife and fully looked at his captain. “But thank you for stepping in.”
“Anytime kid.”