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Chris wakes up in the middle of the night to the distant crash of thunder. Much of the storm is already over and he feels like he’s only been asleep for minutes, but a glance at his alarm tells him it’s after midnight. Carla had watched the news with him earlier and it’s one of those days where Dad might not be home by nine tomorrow morning the way he should be, because half of the city needs help in one way or another.
It’s okay. Buck’s there to watch Dad’s back and the whole team look out for each other.
Still, Chris can’t help but feel a little uneasy and he’s looking around his room for things to ground him. Flashes of light illuminate his room with stark contrast and it’s both beautiful and ominous. He used to love thunderstorms when they lived in Texas, but it’s a little different now. Dad’s always more busy when there’s storms and they seem to hit harder. It’s like they’re an invasive species.
Chris takes deep breaths, counts them out like he’s learned in therapy, and stares at his ceiling. Everything is fine. If it wasn’t, someone would tell him. Buck would be here with him.
That’s when he hears the sound of a car door being slammed and his heart sits in his throat.
Someone is coming.
It’s after midnight and Dad’s not supposed to be here until nine and someone is coming.
Chris wants to scream.
He knows. Okay? He knows that Dad’s job is dangerous and there are no promises that can be made and Dad has never been happier than he is when he is saving people. But Chris can’t do this again, he can’t lose his dad, too.
He can hear the front door open and close, but only because he’s listening for it - whoever it is, is trying to be quiet. Chris should get up, confront the person out there with their bad news and sad face and maybe yell at how unfair it all is, but then he’ll know, and what if it’s really bad? What if this time, his Dad isn’t just hurt? What if he’s never coming back?
There’s a whispered conversation and Chris can’t make out the voices, but he can hear the shocked gasp from Carla. Definitely bad news.
He’s still torn between getting up and pretending to be asleep, when his door opens. Lightning lights up his dad’s face and he looks like a ghost. For a second, Chris is sure that he is. His dad’s dead and his ghost has come to say his goodbyes. Chris can feel tears in his eyes.
“Dad?” His own voice feels alien, mangled from sleep and terror, and there’s no more he can say.
His bedroom lights come on and his dad is right there, in the flesh, alive and whole and unhurt. But his face, oh. He’s not a ghost but he looks like he’s seen one, looks the way he did when he told him about Mom. Something bad happened and Chris wishes he didn’t feel so relieved, because his dad is alive. His dad is alive and he’s here and it’s going to be okay.
Dad stumbles forward with a noise that Chris has never heard from him, but the closest he’s come was that night he destroyed his bedroom with a baseball bat. “Chris,” Dad says and pulls him into a crushing hug. Chris can feel a wetness where Dad’s face is buried in his shoulder. He puts his arms around Dad and hugs back as hard as he can.
For a long time, they just stay like that, breathing heavily with hidden tears, and Chris knows he should ask, knows that something bad is coming, but he just wants to feel safe and warm for one more minute. His dad isn’t supposed to be home yet, he was on a shift with Buck and Hen and Chimney and Captain Bobby. Chris loves them all a whole lot and he doesn’t want to know if something really bad happened to any of them. Something really bad happened to someone. He’s not a baby anymore, he knows Dad doesn’t cry like this for anyone but family.
Anyone but Buck.
The thought comes without asking and when it’s there, it won’t leave. What if something bad happened to Buck?
Chris pushes a little at Dad’s shoulder and Dad pulls back, head down so Chris can’t see his eyes. “Dad, what happened?”
His dad takes a deep, shaky breath that sounds like the worst thing Chris can imagine and he tries to smile. He’s stroking Chris’ hair and his face and down his arms like he can’t believe Chris is there, has to make sure Chris is okay, and Chris remembers this, too, from that night after the tsunami.
Chris wants to ask, but he can’t. He can’t.
Dad looks like his heart is breaking. “Chris, I-”
And Chris knows. He knows. He’s not stupid. Something bad happened to Buck. Maybe the worst thing. Maybe he’s never going to see him again. Maybe he’s gone like Mom is gone and it’s not fair. It’s not fair.
“No,” Chris says and shakes his head, his whole body vibrating with the force of it. “No, no, no. Dad, where is Buck?”
Dad makes that terrible noise again and catches Chris in another hug, this one feels suffocating, because all Chris wants to do is run, find Buck and make sure he’s okay. He has to be okay. He promised he would always be there.
“Buck got hurt tonight,” Dad says and the words come out scratchy, rough like sandpaper. “He got hurt but we brought him to the hospital. He’s in the hospital, Chris.” Dad is slowly rocking him, pressing kisses into his hair, and Chris doesn’t want to be soothed, but it works anyway. He’s slowly processing the words, what they mean.
Buck is in the hospital.
That means he’s alive.
Chris pulls in heavy, wet breaths between his sobs and when has he started crying? Tears and snot are all over his face, he feels sticky and swollen and his head is starting to hurt. The fight has gone out of him and he hangs limply in his Dad’s embrace. It’s all too much. He can’t. He feels. Everything.
Dad is crying, too.
Chris buries his face in Dad’s neck and cuddles into the warmth. “Can we go see him?” The silence says more than any words Dad could come up with. Chris fists a hand in Dad’s shirt. “He’s going to be okay, right?”
And his Dad has never intentionally lied to him, not even when he was trying to keep his date with Miss Flores a secret, but when he opens his mouth, Chris knows that the next thing he says is a lie. “Of course,” Dad says, “he’s going to be fine.”
Chris is too tired to fight his dad on the merits of telling the truth. “Can we go see him tomorrow? I could make him another card.”
“He’s going to love it,” Dad says. He sounds very tired and very sad. “Buck loves you so much, you know that?”
Chris nods. “I know.” He also knows that Dad hasn’t said they will go to Buck. “Is he hurt really bad? Is that why you don’t want me to see him?”
Dad sighs. “Nothing escapes you, huh?” He starts arranging them on the bed and Chris realizes that this is going to be one of those nights where Dad just has to be with him, to know he’s right there. It’s okay, because Chris feels the same way. “He’s just sleeping, so he can get better. The doctor’s say his brain needs the rest.”
Chris scrunches his nose. He’s seen a documentary about this. “They put him in a coma?” The last word comes out a little wrong, but he knows Dad will understand him anyway. He always does.
“How do you- yeah. Yeah, he’s in a coma.”
Okay. Okay. He knows that some people never wake up and maybe that’s why Dad is so upset, but Buck promised he would never leave them. Chris isn’t worried anymore. Buck will come back to them. “We were reading the superhero book when he was here last time, we should bring it to him. They say that people in comas can sometimes hear you when you talk to them.”
Dad laughs and ruffles his hair. “You know what, kiddo? That sounds like a great idea. Buck will appreciate it.”
They’re both quiet for a little while. Chris is tired enough that he’s almost back to sleep when Dad presses a kiss to his head. “You’re the best kid in the world.”
Chris grins sleepily, almost too tired to answer. “It’s because I have the best dad. And the best Buck.”
If Dad says anything else, Chris doesn’t hear it. He’s falling asleep safe and warm and full of things he wants to tell Buck when he sees him tomorrow, so he knows how to find his way back.