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“I didn’t know he could make himself that small.”
Hen side-eyes Chim. “That boy could shrivel up and disappear if he tried hard enough.”
“I can hear you, you know.” Buck’s muffled voice issues from beneath his blanket, where he’s curled up in a fetal position so tight he’s gotta be squishing several important organs. Not to mention the extra strain he’s putting on already damaged ribs.
“C’mon, Buckaroo, come join us. Bobby made lasagna.” Chim nudges the bunk, giving Buck’s whole being a little shake.
“Not hungry.”
Hen sighed, signaling for Chim to leave them alone. He gave the Buck-lump one last lingering look before shuffling out of the bunkroom.
“Buck—honey; you can’t hide in here forever. You’re practically haunting the place and frankly, you’re bringing everyone down.”
Somehow, he just curls in on himself even tighter. “Leave me alone, Hen. I’m designated man behind until further notice and all my chores are done so I can do whatever I want, and I want to be alone.”
“Buck, c’mon. You’re hurt. Come out where we can keep an eye—“
“If you don’t leave me alone right now, I’ll say it, Hen.”
She stops for just a second. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Buck hesitates for only a second. “Man, it sure is—“
“Ok, fine! Just don’t say it.” Hen huffs, getting to her feet.
She does turn at the door, though, looking back at him with a hint of sadness. “We miss you.” She says, but upon receiving no reply she leaves him to his misery.
It’s more than an hour later when the alarm sounds, so Buck doesn’t feel too bad about almost saying the Q-word. It must be something big, since the entire station is suddenly empty.
He slinks out of bed, making his way up the stairs to the loft to put away dinner. He sighs to himself because damn everything smelled so good. Whatever Bobby did with garlic and onions was some sort of witchcraft, he’s pretty sure.
But he didn’t touch a morsel, he just set about diligently putting everything away and rinsing the dishes one-handed before putting them in the dishwasher and getting it started. He wipes down the tables and counters—he can’t really sweep due to his broken arm and bruised ribs, so he leaves that for Chim.
He slinks back to his bunk before his teammates return, having started a fresh pot of coffee for them. He’s curled back up on his side and feigning sleep when they get back, Bobby now having joined Hen and Chim in their low murmuring.
He ignores it when Bobby calls to him quietly, wanting to talk, but not wanting to disturb his sleep. When he doesn’t answer, they let him alone for a while.
It’s the next morning and Buck can’t avoid his coworkers any longer; he has to show up to breakfast or Bobby will just send someone to bring him up. No one misses three meals in a row with the team.
He’s sitting quietly in his chair, the one next to him conspicuously empty. Conversation happens all around him, but no one talks to him and he doesn’t speak to anyone. A plate filled with cheesy eggs and buttery toast is pushed pointedly in front of him and he dutifully takes a few bites without looking up.
Slowly the din dies down as everyone drifts away to do their chores or hit the gym for a morning workout. Everyone but Buck and Bobby.
“Kid,” Bobby begins, all heavy sighs and concerned stares. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, Cap. Everything’s fine.” Buck does not look up from his plate.
“I don’t appreciate being lied to, Buck. You’re backing me into a corner, here. You’ve been sullen and antisocial for too long. I get that you feel responsible—“
“Because I am.” Buck breaks in quietly.
“You really aren’t. The equipment was faulty and she was already injured badly from the first fall and the additional impact did her in. For goodness’ sake, we almost lost you, too.” Bobby reaches out as if to cup the side of his head where a neat line of stitches curves along his scalp above his left ear, but Buck is too fast and he pulls away with a sniff.
“It’s not fair. She was maybe fourteen, Cap. She had a whole life ahead of her and a family that loved her and she’s taken out by a freak rockslide followed by a frayed line just when she thought she was being rescued. She was in the middle of thanking me when it snapped. It…it…”
The it should have been me is unspoken but sours the air between them all the same.
Buck breathes in and out slowly a few times. “…her eyes were open the whole time we lay there, Bobby. She was staring at me every time I opened my eyes and...and I couldn't move, I couldn't look away and she...she…goddammit I should have seen it. I went down that line, I should have seen the damage; felt it, something!”
"Buck," but whatever Bobby was about to say was lost with the ringing of the bell and he shot Buck a look that was so full of concern it hurt. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Buck just nods as everyone heads out, leaving him to clean up breakfast and take stock of the storeroom and he triple checks all the equipment before lying down once more. He curls into himself, absentmindedly using the ache in his ribs to serve as a reminder that he needs to do better, be better.
When the shift is over, he goes home to do more of the same. He bypasses the kitchen entirely and heads up the stairs where he struggles out of his clothes and into the bed where he curls up under the covers.
A tiny part of him wishes he’d kept the wrinkled old stuffed dog Maddie got him for his fifth birthday. He’d had it all the way until he was fourteen and she had stopped visiting altogether; he’d thrown it out in a fit of rage one night when he’d desperately needed her and she did not answer. He had regretted it the next day when he ran out to find that the collectors had already come to take the trash and his only real friend was gone for good.
If Buck had him now, he’d crush him into the space between his arms and chest and legs, would relish in the nostalgic comfort there to press up against the ever-expanding loneliness that steadily consumed him.
Instead he made do with a pillow, but it wasn’t the same—he didn’t cry, but it was a close thing and he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.
Buck slipped into the station early, heading up the stairs to grab some coffee before he began his chores. He was moving slow and quiet—any shadows of his usual boisterous morning greetings dead before they saw the light of day.
He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them.
“…gotta do something about Buckaroo. He’s taking it too hard…”
“…will have to have a talk with him, he can’t continue on like this…”
“…hasn’t been the same since Eddie left…”
Buck catches a lump in his throat and forces it down before it can take hold. He quietly goes back the way he came, heading out the bay doors and to his Jeep without anyone seeing him.
He texts Bobby from the driver’s seat that he’s not feeling well and won’t make it in today and he goes back to his apartment and ultimately back to bed.
It’s late afternoon when Buck is startled awake by hushed voices and the tip-tap of Chris’s crutches upon the tile. He swallows back the urge to cry and curls up even more for just a minute, hoping that if he stays quiet, if he feigns sleep, they’ll let him be.
But it turns out Eddie isn’t as nice as Bobby about Buck’s shut-eye and he comes up the stairs two at a time once he has Chris settled in the living room. He doesn’t even make a pretense of caring whether or not he’s being an asshole, and rips the blanket off him without preamble.
“C’mon, Cap said you’re wallowing.”
Buck glares at him for a minute. “I called out sick, not sad.”
Eddie lifts a single eyebrow. “Yeah, well when you wallow in it, sad can become a kind of sick. So. Yeah. Get up and come have dinner with me and Chris.” He wrinkles his nose playfully. “Maybe after a shower.”
Buck tosses a pillow at him, but sits up anyway, groaning a bit at the twinge in his ribs.
He knows he won’t win a fight against both Diaz’s, so he does as Eddie suggests, taking care not to wet his cast as he washes himself and dresses in some soft sweats and a worn-out band tee.
He takes a few breaths before heading down, and in doing so he smells…
His stomach rumbles embarrassingly loudly, but he can't be bothered to care; he hurries as best he can down the stairs. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep,” Eddie beams at the genuine look of hope in Buck’s face. “Next-day enchiladas.”
“Yessssss.” Buck does a little happy food dance. “I love your Abuela so much.”
Eddie laughs as he fills a plate for him. “I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.”
It’s true; the old woman is quite fond of Buck—she liked him from the beginning, as most people do, but fell in love with him when he started raving about her food. He insisted to her once that though they were obviously delicious fresh, that her enchiladas were best after they’d had time to really soak in the flavor; they got better with age, “just like her” he’d said and from that day forward, she always sent home extra for her Evito (just another member of the Diaz family who claimed Buck as their own).
The three of them ate and then watched a movie together, Buck getting in some much-needed Chris time before eventually the adults drifted into the kitchen to chat while Chris dozed on the couch.
“So,” Buck begins, suddenly shy and not meeting Eddie’s eye. “Bobby sent you, huh?”
Eddie nods along. “Yeah, he’s getting pretty worried about you. They all are.” When Buck does not reply, he continues, “…why didn’t you call me? I would have come. I would have talked to you and kept you company, you know that.”
Buck scoffs a little in the back of his throat. “Eddie—you’re trying to get a whole new life together; new job, new people. You’re finally getting some peace of mind, some…some stability. I didn’t want to shatter it with my bullshit.”
Eddie tentatively reaches across the table and takes Buck’s hand, giving him a pleased little smile when he doesn’t pull away. “Buck, listen to me—your feelings aren't bullshit and talking to me about what’s bothering you isn’t going to harm me; in fact, not talking to me is worse. I was so worried when Bobby called me. You never even told me you were hurt, much less that you lost someone like that. That you had to lay there with her for so long until they were able to extract you. That must have been rough.”
Buck’s face crumples. “She died, Eddie—I had her in my arms and the line snapped and I tried, I tried so fucking hard to keep her safe and I failed.”
Eddie’s got both hands on Buck’s good one now, rubbing his thumbs in soothing circles against the back of it. “You didn’t fail, Buck; you were there for her, you were doing exactly what you were supposed to and the equipment failed you. “
Buck nodded along, finally shedding his tears. “Ok, ok yeah.” He’s sobbing now and Eddie’s around the table in a flash letting him wrap himself around his waist and stroking a soothing hand through his hair while he cried.
When Buck’s tears finally slow to a hiccupping stop, he clings to Eddie just a bit tighter. “Will you guys stay here with me tonight?” He asks, muffled against Eddie’s belly.
“That was the plan,” he murmurs quietly, not stopping his soothing ministrations. “We even brought sleep clothes and everything. I bet if we squeezed real tight, maybe cuddled a bit, we could all fit in your stupidly comfortable bed.
“We’ll get us some good sleep and tomorrow we’ll go to that little place around the corner for breakfast and we can spend the whole day together. Does that sound good to you?”
Buck makes a grateful little sound, breath coming out in a huff right near Eddie’s navel. “Yeah, that sounds great, actually.”
“Ok, then—it’s settled. Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” Eddie pulls back enough to drop an affectionate kiss on top of Buck’s head and they both freeze for an agonizing second.
Eddie recovers first, clearing his throat. “Uh, I’ll go and get Chris ready.”
Buck squeaks out something that’s probably an agreement and then heads upstairs to get some extra pillows and blankets ready (Eddie is a cover-hog so he has to have his own or Buck and Chris will freeze).
They curl up quietly together, Chris tucked safely between them and already snoring before the lights are turned out. It’s only minutes after that when hesitant fingers tangle together in the darkness, an unspoken promise of something bigger on the horizon.