Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

COUNT MY LITTLE SCARS (i've got dozens down inside)

By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky

It occurs to Eddie later this is the closest he’s ever been to punching a superior.

It doesn’t so much surprise him that he felt this way, rather that he didn’t feel as strongly as this before. There were many moments in the army – hell, in the Dairy Freeze he worked in the summers in high school – where the inclination would’ve made much more sense than a figure he viewed as family. However, in the end, Eddie supposes it was inevitable. Inevitable that he’s feeling Bobby’s hands grip against his turnout, still askew and half-off where Chimney once was, hands running up his chest while he checked for injuries. Chimney is long gone, sprinting to where Hen cries out, the panic in her voice palpable and Eddie only has one functioning ear at the moment.

All of that means nothing to him, really.

Instead, he’s unilaterally focused on the helmet sitting on the ground as innocently as if someone placed it there. Rain, crashing against the visor, the flashlight still on and flickering in the storm. A helmet that should be on the head of the figure collapsed on the ground yards away. It’s too far. Too far for a helmet to be away from the head it’s meant to protect. It’s all Eddie can see in the moment, because he thinks as soon as he lifts his gaze, everything will shift. He feels Bobby’s grip on his shoulder and it digs painfully in his skin, the whisper of a bullet in his ear with no figure standing in front of him.

For the first time since he can remember, Eddie feels alone.

*

The storm is unusual and usual for the L.A. area, Eddie discovers thanks to Buck and his unending quest to be prepared for any natural disaster ever since the tsunami. He ribs the man as much as is expected, but can’t help but feel grateful that he does so, secretly collecting the information the man spouted as easy as the weather. Which, Eddie supposes, it is. If only the city would all take note of the Wikipedia binges Buck did, it probably wouldn’t have been as quite as busy of a week as they’ve had, tragedy and emergencies piling up like precarious stones against an unyielding sea.

“I think I would kill someone for dry socks right now.” Buck says as they collect themselves in the truck, his head leaning against the window as rainwater drips unceremoniously from his hair. The snickers follow his words, Eddie being the first to lead the charge, because the thought of Buck killing anyone intentionally is, well, hilarious. Accidentally, much more plausible. He seems to pick up on the undertone, because he scowls at them. “Fine, I think I would sleep with someone for dry socks right now.”

“That’s more like it.” Chimney laughs, clapping his shoulder as he moves to the seat across from the man.

“Let’s all remember our radios are open lines and none of us are immune from the HR department.” Bobby says evenly from the front seat, but Eddie can see the exasperation in the lines of his face.

Buck makes a face, frowning in a way that twists his nose. “I would give a—”

“—respectable price to trade for goods and services like the upstanding citizen you are.” Hen finishes, rolling her eyes. “Let’s not forget, you get a paycheck and can, what’s the word, pay for them with money.”

“I can’t pay for them now.” Buck offers, gesturing to the open cab. “None of you are socks salesmen.”

“That you know of.” Chimney offers. “I can see Eddie here selling a pair of socks to a surfer in thong sandals.”

Eddie snorts, taking his usual seat next to Buck, running his hands through his own soaked hair and shaking it a bit at Buck just to hear him exclaim because he’s feeling exhausted and a little childish. He isn’t sure why his immature qualities come out when he’s around Buck, but he’s determined not to examine it too closely. True to form, Buck makes an almost inhuman noise at the action, head knocking against the window.

Eddie can’t help but grin at the gesture. It’s rare to see Buck out of his head these days, even rarer to hear him say something completely absurd without any weight behind it. He’s watched as his best friend drooped lower, holding onto secrets and decisions like they were chains with weights tied to the bottom of the ocean. Eddie understands in his own weird way – he’s had issues he’s wanted to hide from the world – but he’s reaching the point where it’s almost impossible to intervene. He thinks of the night when Buck destroyed his door and refused to leave, and wonders if that was the day his life was saved. And, more importantly, if now Buck needs saving in his own way.

He stares at the man and wonders if there isn’t a door, what could he barge into?

“You know,” Eddie says in lieu of any real thought that is charging through his head. “I once convinced a woman in my town ice cream didn’t have sugar, and therefore wasn’t a decadent sin of gluttony.”

“See?” Chimney exclaims. “He is singlehandedly breaking religious norms!”

“Well,” Bobby puts his hands up. “There isn’t anything in the Bible that says you can’t have ice cream. So that woman was factually wrong.”

“Cap, did you just use your biblical knowledge to encourage us to eat ice cream?” Hen asks, eyes twinkling. “Sign me up.”

Bobby sighs from the Captain’s chair. “You know, I thought this week was going to be so good. Then the storm started and I remembered that I have to corral you guys as my job.”

“You love it.” Hen winks at him.

The rain is pelting the windows of the truck, like a steady beat of a song of events to come. Buck’s smile flickers quickly like he’s remembered something, flashing down so fast no one would’ve noticed if they weren’t looking at him. Which Eddie is. Looking at him, that is.

It’s become a habit ever since the reveal that he agreed to the idiotic plan of being a sperm donor. Eddie isn’t against sperm donation as a practice, but from his best friend that thinks the only way to get love is to cut pieces of himself away?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

In the more unhinged moments of the recent evenings, Eddie contemplates finding the couple and yelling as a way to make himself feel better. But now there’s an actual child in play and he’s watching as Buck shrinks himself smaller and smaller.

“—I’m just saying, I’m starting to not be able to feel my feet.” Buck is saying. “Maybe we should start packing extra socks in the rig for moments like this. We would all benefit.”

“Yeah, why don’t you just write that on your clipboard I know you always have hidden under your seat.” Hen offers, clearly unimpressed but more than amused. “I don’t know why you bother to hide it, we all know it’s there.”

Buck glowers at her, eyes narrowing. Hen returns the gaze and after five seconds of unrelenting eye contact, Buck crumbles in the way they all expect. He lets out a dramatic sigh and reaches underneath his seat, unearthing a clipboard. Eddie was certain he got rid of them all, so it’s unnerving that Hen knew before he did, but that really was the way things were these days. He tells himself he isn’t jealous, but it’s been a while since Eddie wasn’t able to immediately read everything from a single expression from Buck, and he decidedly does not care for that shit at all.

“We all benefit from dry socks.” Buck mumbles just on the funny side of petulance, Eddie leaning over to see him quickly write ‘extra socks in rig’ in his chicken scrawl that typically requires a symbologist to decipher. He smirks at other notes, which include ‘snack box 4 chim’ and ‘book 4 kids’ among other things. Eddie knows his face is twisted into something almost painfully fond – something Chris has ceremoniously decided to call his ‘lame dad heart eyes,’ oh how Eddie loves this transition to teenage behavior – but it’s the quiet moments like this where Eddie lets himself feel things that he doesn’t want to put a name to.

It isn’t until he notices Hen sitting across from him in the rig, a knowing smirk growing on her face in a way that feels like one of those lesbian goddess of knowledge things that she always jokes about, but Eddie isn’t sure it’s even a joke anymore. There’s something about the way that it’s coming from Hen, a private moment that she’s allowing him to feel safe when he isn’t sure his own head is, like she is saying I get it without mortifyingly saying the words out loud. Eddie guesses if anyone would get it, it would be her, but it still doesn’t mean that he’s quite ready for that realization.

“I thought I took all your clipboards away.” Eddie chides when he can’t bare to keep eye contact with Hen any longer. “You’re a menace to society with them.”

“He’s a menace to society when he steps out of his apartment.” Chimney snorts. “The greater city of L.A. is actively in danger when you get a clipboard.”

Buck gives them all an unimpressed look. “You may have taken the clipboards you know about, but I am a man of means, as Hen puts it. I can buy socks and clipboards.”

“Wow, socks and clipboards, you’re really ballin’ out of control.”

 “Yeah, I wish Buck 1.0 could see you now. Going from stealing ladder trucks to hiding clipboards out of fear they’ll be stolen.” Hen’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Hey now,” Bobby states quickly, turning around in his seat. “I think we can all agree that this is the much safer option and a sign of growth. No poking fun at someone growing.”

Buck snorts, but Eddie can see a very real tinge of red flush on his cheeks as he ducks his head in that way he usually does when someone compliments him, no matter how small. It’s also a face that gives Eddie an impulse to fly to Pennsylvania for unrelated reasons.

“It’s honestly not a bad idea,” Eddie faux-whispers to Hen and Chimney, earning a laugh and an affronted squawk from Chim.

“Don’t let him hear you, otherwise the clipboards win!”

Buck laughs at the man, tucking the clipboard back under his seat and Eddie makes a mental note to steal it later. Lightning flashes outside the window and Eddie can’t help but flinch at the thunder that follows. He’s never been big on storms, but as life has moved on, he’s really disliked anything wildly unpredictable and there’s nothing more menacing than an aggressive storm in a city ill-prepared for them. He feels a knock against his knee and sees Buck giving him a soft smile from the seat next to him as if he could read Eddie’s mind – a gift that Eddie is almost convinced he has.

There’s some commotion in the front seat and Buck sighs, hitting his head against the edge of the seat. “No dry socks for you, Buckeroo.” Hen says warmly, reaching her hand out to squeeze his wrists when they all hear the call come in, rerouting them from their trek back to the station.

“This would’ve all been prevented if you guys would just let me carry a clipboard on my person.”

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Over my dead body.”

Everyone speaks at once and Buck fixes them with an unimpressed expression. “Fine. I hope all your feet fall off.”

“Okay team, let’s refocus.” Bobby says from the front. “We’re going to industrial center of Central L.A. for a building collapse based on some mudslides.”

It sobers the cab up immediately. “Ah shit,” Buck breathes. “We had an insane summer, that’s not good.”

Bobby nods in agreement. “You know what it all means. Dry summer, city in drought, mixed with heavy rains? Everything is going to be incredibly unstable. It looks like some of the workers in the warehouse were able to get to the roof, but the building is slowly collapsing because of the mud, so we’re going to have to play this one really carefully. Hen, Chim, I want you on the ground, helping the other RA units in the scene. Captain Harrison of the 142 is IC. Eddie, Buck, we’ve already received word that they desperately need an assist on the roof. There’s no way in the building, so you know what that means.”

Buck and Eddie share a look, something in the pit of Eddie’s stomach twisting. He doesn’t like it – he never likes high stakes situations like this, the kind that Buck truly thrives in, because he always is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thunder rolls around them like a presence, slowly choking them in its desire to move closer, until Eddie can all but feel it in his throat. “You okay, man?” Buck mutters so quietly, he only heard because he’s right next to him.

Eddie jerks a nod, because he doesn’t trust his own voice right now. He lets out a breath through his nose like Frank has taught him, but it does nothing to quell the feeling in his chest that something is not quite right. He doesn’t have time to examine in, so Eddie merely breathes, feeling Buck’s hand against his shoulder. It’s the shoulder he was shot in, the ache of the ghost of the bullet still with him. He typically flinches whenever someone reaches for that shoulder, but not Buck. Not the only person who can ground him when he’s feeling particularly out of control, the scars of his past burning too bright.

When Eddie manages to swallow his anxiety down, he reaches Buck’s gaze. “Yeah,” he says dryly. “You?”

Buck seems startled at the question, his bright eyes flickering to darkness for a second. If Eddie hadn’t been so attuned to his best friend, he might have missed it, but these days, he doesn’t miss anything. He can’t bring himself to allow it anymore. “Y-Yeah, of course.”

Eddie isn’t convinced and he’s positive no one in the continental U.S. would be. Buck’s emotions always read loudly on his face, even when he tried to stifle them, and now is no different. “You would… you would tell me if something was wrong, right?” He finds himself saying.

This is not how he wanted to ask that question – nor did he really want to ask it in the first place. It just came tumbling out with the shaky breaths and grounding hands, to where Eddie forgets that they’re at a scene and not at his house, where the world is quiet. It’s a question he has wanted to ask, nibbling at his mind as days pass, to the point where he can’t keep it in anymore.

“Yeah.” Is the response.

Eddie isn’t sure he believes that either, but he doesn’t fault Buck for the lie. They’re at a scene, Buck needs to get his head in the game – hell, he needs to get his head in the game – and doesn’t really have time for Eddie to pick at whatever scab he’s pretending doesn’t exist.

But god, does it piss him off all the same.

Eddie nods, stilted and sharp. “Well, if there was ever something you didn’t think you could talk to me about, you’re probably wrong. Because, you know, you usually are.”

“Asshole,” Buck breathes and it’s filled with laughter, the man taking his hand away from Eddie’s shoulder. He misses it immediately. “Tell that to all the times I’ve helped Chris with his homework.”

“Tell that to all the times you’ve helped Chris with his math homework.”

“Listen, some people aren’t good at certain things!” Buck exclaims. “I can’t be good at everything, Eddie, I’m not God.” Then, the man has the sheer Christ on a bike audacity to wink at him. “Even if I do look like one.” He offers with a cocky grin that looks only slightly off, flicking his fingers to where Bobby is calling both of them over.

Eddie’s mouth drops open a bit, wondering how he easily evaded any real question, while simultaneously leaving him flustered all the same. Eddie knows he needs to move into action, but he isn’t sure if he can at the moment.

“Leave it alone.”

Eddie startles at Hen’s words, even moreso that she suddenly appears at his side while grabbing her gear from the side of the truck. “What do you mean?”

Hen fixes him an expression that is very Hen in that it makes him feel a little sheepish. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Eddie runs a gloved hand through his wet hair and isn’t able to stop the unceremonious growl that rumbles in the back of his throat. “It’s just—”

“I know, but we have to shove it aside right now.” Hen at least looks as frustrated as he is, fixing her helmet quickly. “It’s… it’s not good and it’s not going to get better anytime soon, but you of all people should know you can’t force people into doing things that they are dead set on doing.”

She has a point, and it’s annoying.

Except Eddie can’t let it go because he can’t have these thoughts running through his head when he needs to be focused on the task at hand. “Just – before everything, just – how bad is it, Hen? Really? He went to you and you guys talked about it, and I-I’m, I’m not asking you to tell me what you guys talked about it, but I need to know. How bad is it?”

Hen’s quick movements falter for a second and it’s all Eddie needs to know, really. As thought she realizes he needs her to say it, Hen clears her throat. “It’s bad. And now that there’s no turning back, it’s only going to get worse. We can’t – we can’t do anything else about that now. All we can do is wait for the fallout and help.”

Eddie nods, stilted and angry, unable to stop himself. Anger that he hasn’t felt in a while – unbridled and needing an outlet. Eddie isn’t even sure who he’s mad at the most: Buck for making such a bad decision for himself and not even mentioning it to him, Kameron and Connor for asking, himself for not realizing something was going on until it was too late, Hen for being Buck’s confidant instead of him, or the goddamn Buckley parents for making this entire situation possible.

Actually he knows who he’s the most upset with. The goddamn Buckley parents, always.

In the end, Hen is right again and he doesn’t say another word, simply tilting his head at her. He knows she can see right through him, just as he knows they’ll be talking about this later, likely over a bottle of wine with the comforting noise of their children giggling the in background. This thought is the only thing that really allows Eddie to give it up in the moment, wiping the nonsense of the situation from his mind as he sees Bobby wave him over hurriedly when Buck is waiting for him.

By the time he makes it over there, the two men are getting a little antsy and Eddie doesn’t quite blame them. Buck gives him an inquisitive look and he makes an off-handed comment about Hen needing an extra hand real quick that both seem to accept. The rain is growing in intensity as time passes, the sound of plinking against the metal ladder making Eddie anxious. If Buck is concerned about it, he is hiding it quite well, eyes narrowed in focus as Bobby gives him the rundown.

As if Bobby can sense Eddie’s growing anxiety in the situation, or perhaps acting on his own, he turns to Buck specifically. “This is already a complicated scenario with the mudslides and poor building structure, but this storm isn’t doing us any favors. I need you to be as careful as possible. There are many ways this can go wrong, and I am not interested in experiencing any of them. If you think the building is too unstable or if the storm gets to the point where you cannot do your job safely, you have to retreat. That is an order, do you hear?”

Buck and Eddie nod.

“I cannot hear your nods, I need you to verbally confirm that you will retreat if the situation is too dangerous for you two to continue.” Bobby says seriously, his eyes harder than they have been in a while. Eddie fights the urge to recoil a bit, a hardened anger flashing through him at the mere implication he couldn’t do his job properly, but then Eddie thinks about what has happened to his Captain in the passing months. Between Jonah, Athena’s family troubles, losing his sponsor. Eddie can see the desperation in his eyes, the wild need to protect his team, like it was a life raft precariously hanging on by a thread.

Turning to Buck, he sees the man’s jaw clench like he’s stuck in the knee jerk reaction of being called out, his eyes a little dimmer, more hurt than should be the case. Eddie gets it, Buck has a hard time trusting people’s opinion on a good day, and this is nowhere near a good day. Except they can’t have it – what Bobby’s saying is too important, too necessary to keep them safe.

“Yes, Cap.” Eddie says when the silence hangs for a beat too long. He’s about to elbow Buck hard, but the man assents, the hurt of mistrust still in his eyes.

Bobby narrows his eyes at Buck, clearly not convinced the man truly heard him, but Eddie wonders if the problem is the opposite. He heard too much, listened to an implication that wasn’t meant.

There isn’t time to get into this, so Bobby decides whatever standoff the two are in is enough. He claps a hand on Buck’s shoulder before leaving, Buck startling at the action. Eddie watches as a myriad of emotions flash across his face until he settles on something neutral.

Why do disasters always come at the worst time?

Instead of making any sort of comment on whatever just happened, Eddie lifts up his forearm to Buck. “We got this.” He says and puts as much weight into it as possible. Buck only hesitates a fraction of a second.

“We got this.” He agrees, knocking his forearm against Eddie’s with an easy smile. “Just a regular day, right?”

It’s not a regular day and there’s no way to pretend it is. Eddie grins anyways because of the ridiculousness of it all, rain pouring against their helmets. “Right.” He breathes. “I got your back. Just try not to fall with those Bambi legs.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “I always knew you were checkin’ my legs out, Diaz.”

The man leaves it at that because Buck always says things where Eddie isn’t sure if it’s hiding something more, and as the time passes, Eddie decides he’s had enough.

Enough of this back and forth, enough of the trauma pouring into each of them until they explode. Explosions are never beautiful. They are messy and dark, sneaking into your veins until all you can feel is a pain that is screaming to burst your skin. The things they didn’t talk about built up like bricks, creating prisons with no light that they couldn’t get out of. As Eddie watches Buck carefully ascend the ladder, he is set on his decision.

He knows Buck will fight him. But he also knows Buck’s tricks. The sly grins and easy brushoffs. The deflection, the anger. He knows all pieces of him like they are himself.

Eddie can’t help but grin to himself as he steps up to the controls. Wanna go for the title? Buck’s distant words echo in his head, the cocksure smile on his face and a step a little too close to be purely platonic. He remembers at the time thinking ‘What would be the problem with taking a step closer himself,’ but as he did with so much at that time, he shoved it back down.

Now?

Now, Eddie’s ready to go for the fucking title.

Eyes trained on Buck’s back, his turnout sticking to him in the rain. Eddie feels the weight in his own, dragging it down with water and even worse, wet socks (he’d never tell Buck how much he actually agreed with him). He manages to flip the switch to extend the ladder, moving the joystick in order to position Buck as closely to the building as he dares to.

Lightning showers all around them, Eddie frowning as he notices the strikes are inching closer. The thunder booms around him and he tells himself he’s in Los Angeles and not overseas, but then again, he was shot in L.A. too. Instead, he focuses on Buck like an anchor, reminding himself that its not just him in this situation, his partner, his best friend needs him to focus.

When Buck reaches the top of the ladder, he stops. It’s so unlike the man, someone who always moves, always is charging forward, to simply be still. Fumbling with his radio, Eddie asks, “Everything alright, Buck?” when he doesn’t move for a few seconds.

It takes Buck a moment to respond. Eddie knows that everyone at the 118 have stopped what they’re doing and are now turned in the direction of the two. Eddie is almost about to prompt the man again, when there’s a crackle in the radio. “I, uh, think something—”

The world chooses this moment in time to stop.

Eddie has only experienced this once in his life. Not when he was in war – no, that was too fast, everything in motion, in the dark. Blood on his hands and on his person, everything loud and dramatic. Not in the fighting ring either, that was on the chaotic side of boisterous, drowning out the noise of his demons that followed him from war and on a bloody Los Angeles street.

No, the only time when the earth stood still was started by a gunshot.

Eddie doesn’t remember much about that day and Buck hasn’t told him, but then again, he’s never asked. But what he does remember haunts his nightmares, the sight of his best friend splattered in blood he hadn’t been able to identify. When the shooting invades his subconscious, he sees Buck covered in blood, except this time, it’s his. It chills him, the same way a tsunami does, the same way the sight of a brown-haired woman in a yellow dress does.

This time? It starts and ends with a lightning strike.

It’s so quick, it’s a flash, and Eddie is left with the aftermath.

Lighting streaks around them, flashing against the metal of the ladder, and then it’s over.

Except when Eddie lifts his gaze to the top of the ladder, something snaps inside of him as he watches the figure at the top topple over.

The machine in front of him heaves a groan at the sudden weight, it snapping the harness, Buck hanging from the end. He dangles from the end of the ladder, body limply there as if it wasn’t a person at all. Eddie grips the machine while it starts to complain at the extreme motion and sudden weight, quickly gripping his radio. “Mayday, mayday, mayday! Buckley and Diaz requesting immediate assistance, we need—”

What Eddie was going to say they needed never comes. He can’t.

There’s a flash, a scream, and then time skips.

*

“I never thought I’d see the day when Eddie Diaz would invite me over to play video games.” Buck is saying as he unlocks Eddie’s front door, balancing takeout and a sixpack in one hand, closing the door with his heel once he’s inside. Eddie’s not waiting for him at the dining table, but he’s not exactly not not waiting for him. Standing up so that he can be in the foyer when Buck is fully inside with his arms crossed, Eddie fixes him an unimpressed look.

“You make it sounds like I’m a caveman, I play video games.” Eddie all but growls, but it’s playful and he’s taking the takeout and beer from Buck’s arms. “Need I remind you I have a teenager?”

“Name one game made in this century please.”

“You know, Chris isn’t here, it’s not going to be nearly as fun for you to make fun of me.”

Buck leans a little too close and says in a low voice, “You say that like I don’t do it solely for my own enjoyment.”

Eddie allows himself to be flustered only for a fraction of a second because it’s Buck and he can’t give the man an inch, but it’s a lot. Eddie feels like whatever he and Buck are doesn’t quite have a description – none he’s been able to describe to his Abuela, Tia Pepa, sisters, or Frank, no matter how much all of them have pushed him to explain. He isn’t even sure he wants to put a name to it, because it feels safer tucked within himself. A secret hope that he can carry with him throughout the day, finding meaning with soft smiles and gentle touches.

However, he thinks it all may end in tragedy. Buck is destined to find someone who will appreciate what he has to offer, not matter how many Taylor Kellys distract him, and while Eddie will never doubt his place in the man’s life, he’ll create his own family and the feelings knotted in Eddie’s chest will fade with the whisper of what could be, in a different life.

A kinder one.

“I’m sure.” He states dryly, returning the gesture and moving toward the living room. “You’re the one who had nothing better to do on a Saturday night than play last minute video games with your single dad friend.”

“Single dad friend?” Buck repeats, all the flirtiness gone from his tone as he whirls around to Eddie, confused. “Wait, is that what you think you are to me?”

Eddie moves past him toward the kitchen to grab some plates. “Well, am I not your single dad friend?” He asks good-naturedly. “Wait, is this your way of saying you don’t want to be friends with me Evan Buckley?”

He tries to push it off as a joke, hoping Buck will take the bait because he’s the king of evading seriousness with a quip, but instead, Buck stares at him, a little distraught. “Wait, no, let’s go back to—what do you think you are to me?”

Eddie stills at the question. He isn’t sure how it turned so serious so quickly, and he has half a mind to just brush it off, but they’ve been dancing around the question for such a long, he can’t bring himself to pretend anymore. Eddie wonders if Buck’s sheen of casualty is breaking with everything that’s been happening, unable to hide behind a bright smile behind the doors of Eddie’s home.  “What am I to you, Buck?” Eddie asks, turning around. He isn’t sure what he’s going to be facing, but when he finally catches the man’s eye, he isn’t prepared for what he sees.

For a moment, every wall between them, all the bullshit and lies seems to have crumbled.

Buck stares at him, as vulnerable as he ever has been, eyes wide and searching. Words catch in Eddie’s throat, unprepared for the turn the evening has taken when all he wanted was a stupid evening filled with video games, beer, and light conversation. Except he can’t bring himself to stop himself because it feels monumental – like after all the bullshit and dancing around – Buck is here and there’s nothing between them then three feet of air.

Buck’s eyes shine and Eddie realizes he’s on the verge of tears and it takes all his self-control not to reach out and stop them from falling. “Are you sure, Eddie?” Buck asks, his voice quiet and low in that way it gets when he’s serious.

Eddie doesn’t ask what he means because he knows.

“You need to be sure.” Buck states, clenching his jaw, head twitching like he’s struggling not to look away. “If we have this conversation, it’s going to change everything. And I need you to be ready for that change. Because, I-I—” He takes a breath, licking his lips. “Because if you’re not, I’m not sure I’ll be able to recover from that right now.”

It stills Eddie. I’m not sure I’ll be able to recover from that right now. It’s the truth, it’s more of the truth than Buck has given him in recent weeks, like a prayer that only God should be privy to hear.

And it stops him.

Stops him because Buck isn’t wrong, it will change everything and everything is a mess and he started this conversation with all the delicacy of a battering ram and he can’t take it back. “No,” Eddie says and the word almost sounds inhuman, raspy and guttural. A part of him is a little ashamed by his answer, but he sees the immediate relief flicker on Buck’s face, and he thinks, in this moment, it’s the right call. “No, I’m not ready.”

Buck blinks and Eddie can see the watery sheen almost fall, Buck lifting his head to the ceiling as he collects himself. Eddie swallows, his heart pounding in his chest, suddenly wishing he was just a little braver.

When Buck finally brings his head back down, he’s smiling, wide and bright in that way that makes Eddie feel calm, the tension that has now shrouded the evening dissipating. “Okay.” Buck says with an exhale, shaking his head. “We’ve got some video games to play.”

Eddie wants to tell Buck that he wants to have this conversation, that he’s going to be ready one day and Buck will be ready one day, but he can’t. “Yeah, I have to prove to you that I’m quite competent.”

“Quite competent? You are a single dad.” Buck says affectionately, grabbing some paper towels while leading Eddie to his own living room. “I’ll be sure to teach you a few things, like this!” Buck grabs the television remote and waves it Eddie’s face. “This is a magical device where you press the buttons and people come to life in another box! Technology is a marvel!”

“You are such a dick.” Eddie says, unable to keep the affection out of his voice.

Buck laughs heartily at him, collapsing comfortably into his couch and clapping a hand against his thigh. Eddie wants to say more, but all he can do is look at the man and think to himself:

Someday.

*

Time snaps back into focus like a rubber band, drawn too taught.

When Eddie comes to, it’s like his world is pushed underwater. There’s a flurry of movement in front of him. He thinks someone is pressing his hands against his chest, but Eddie’s not able to focus on anything. The lights are blown out and all he can see are colors. Red, blue, white – they flash and Eddie thinks someone is speaking to him. Words muddle like that Peanuts cartoon Chris would watch with Shannon during the holidays, muffled words instead of any dialogue.

He blinks, dazed at the world around him. Someone has something pressed against his chest, Eddie squeezing his eyes to try and fix the double vision in front of him. It takes a while, but Eddie blinks Chimney into view.

Chimney?

It’s confusing, but Chimney’s mouth is moving and Eddie can’t hear him. It’s disorienting and there’s something splashing against his face and he hates it. He winces at the sensation, trying to shake himself out of the grip.

“—op. Stop! Eddie, I need you to calm down, please!”

Eddie startles when the words slowly are able to be discerned. Chimney’s eyes are darting across the scene, a stethoscope pressed under Eddie’s shirt. Eddie flinches against the metal, the world too overwhelming to comprehend. “Diaz. I need you to stop. Please let Chimney examine you.”

Eddie finally stills. He lifts his head up and sees Bobby’s face above him, his eyes filled with concern and even more panic, even though he seems as strong as usual. Eddie stares at him and he feels his panic subsiding, holding to his calm like the life raft it is. “Bobby,” he breathes, forgetting his professionalism when he’s pretty sure he’s working.

“Yes, Eddie, let Chimney check you out. For me, please.” There’s a pleading in his voice that Eddie isn’t familiar with.

Eddie calms, no longer fighting against the hands against him. Chimney lets out a shaky breath, his hands working quickly. Eddie thinks the man is asking him questions but Eddie can’t quite make out what he’s saying. The world is swimming back to focus, the rain from the storm like a veil before his eyes as he tries to break through whatever daze has a hold on him.

“Left ear is blown, we’ll need to get a full checkup at the—”

“Chimney, I need hands!”

The shriek echoes in the space, enough so that Eddie whips his head up so that the entire world tilts. He winces, bringing his hand up to his left ear and comes back with fingers wet with blood. Except no one is chastising him for doing so, and that’s the first alarm in his head.

“I-I—” Chimney stutters, glancing at where Eddie sits and then in the direction of the cry, his hands still clutching against his turnout, but attention elsewhere.

“Oh god, Chimney! Please! I need the defib! I-I can’t move, I have to—”

Eddie knows the words are bad. There’s something in him that’s telling him the words are bad, but he’s unable to hear it. There are pieces of the world that isn’t connecting properly. Like a puzzle piece that is missing, preventing him from seeing the entire picture. He knows it’s important, he knows he needs to be paying attention.

Chimney looks up to where Bobby is above Eddie’s head, his eyes frantic and scared that Eddie’s seen only a few times in his life. Bobby’s jaw clenches. “Is he in any immediate danger?”

“I-I—” Chimney starts, his eyes darting and terrified in a way that makes Eddie on edge. He turns to where Hen is screaming for him and Eddie thinks she’s moving quickly. His brain is telling him that’s CPR, those are compression movements, but who would be needing them?

Everything had been fine, he thinks. Everything was fine.

“Firefighter Han!” Bobby shouts and Eddie winces at the tone.

“He has a concussion. I need to do a full examination, I-I—” Chimney still is distracted in the distance where Hen is and Eddie thinks Bobby should just let him go if he’s going to be so disoriented. “He should be fine until the other RAs get here, I need to—”

“Go. Now.” Bobby states, his tone urgent. Clicking his radio on, Bobby says through shaking words, “This is Captain Robert Nash of the 118. We need immediate RA assistance. Two firefighters down, I repeat we need immediate RA assistance at the east side of the site.”

Chimney glances at Eddie for one more conflicted moment before sprinting off to where Hen is, grabbing his bag. It swings until it hits his back.

Two firefighters down?

He’s one person. That’s one.

The words mix in his head as he stares around for something to ground him, but Eddie thinks something is missing. That’s when he sees it.

The helmet.

It sits on the ground, rain pelting it, the flashlight still on. Eddie thinks he can see a crack in the visor, but overall, it doesn’t look all out of the ordinary. A helmet in the rain, as gentle as if someone set it there. Eddie tilts his head up to where Bobby is, the man’s face twitching as he keeps the radio close to his fist, opening his mouth a few times. His eyes are fixed on a spot ahead of them, jaw clenching in a way Eddie’s only seen when he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Bobby—”

“I know. Don’t focus on that. Don’t look.”

Eddie feels like the child he was never able to be. As soon as Bobby tells him not to look, Eddie goes back to the helmet. The helmet in the rain. The helmet whose owner is too far to be found.

Finally, he turns his attention. Bobby doesn’t stop him, because he’s already staring in the same direction.

Eddie looks to where Hen is, Chimney now on her side. He watches as the man rips open someone’s shirt, head whipping up as he shouts for help.

None of that is what Eddie’s focused on.

What he’s focus on is the dazed expression of the man underneath their hands.

Buck’s head is lolled to the side, and even in his haze, Eddie can see the half-lidded eyes before him. Hen is pressing against his chest, soundless words coming from her mouth as she screams for someone to help. His arm is reached out and Eddie thinks it’s for him. Listless and lifeless, Buck’s hand reaches for him, fingers curled slightly up, then flexing when he catches Eddie’s eye.

Eddie tries to get up to go to him.

He feels Bobby’s arms against him, but there’s nothing the man can do to stop him.

“Buck.” The word is raspy and broken. He catches Buck’s gaze, weary and tired, blood speckled against his forehead. “Buck.” He tries louder.

Two firefighters down.

It sounds desperate in his own ear. Like someone else, someone heartbroken and just broken. Eddie struggles against Bobby’s grip, staring at Buck’s hand reaching out.

Toward him.

The puzzle pieces have fallen and he sees the picture. The quick flash of Buck toppling over the railing of the ladder plays in his mind, and Eddie returns his attention to the helmet. The cracked helmet sitting on the concrete ground of the city of Los Angeles, and then the still figure yards ahead of him.

“Buck!” He cries, panic clutching against his chest. “Buck! Cap, let go – Buck!”

Buck responds with his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

*

Buck is sitting at the table, messing on his phone while people laze around him. It’s one of those days that would’ve bored him to tears when he was a probie – small cases, all spread apart, and not a single situation where the jaws were necessary – but he finds himself relieved with the respite. Hen places a mug of green tea next to him in passing before joining Chimney on the couch for a game of Mario Kart, giving him the sort of soft smile as she does so. He returns it, turning the mug a bit so he can hook his thumb in the handle.

A notification pings on his phone and he sees Connor’s name flash across a banner at the top. Frowning, he presses it, the text chain coming up. He immediately sees the last time he reached out, which is a message from him a week ago, asking, ‘Do you want to have dinner? So excited about the news!’

Left on read.

Buck swallows thickly, the words of all his friends in his head, concerns about what he’s doing. Told you so echoes, even though he knows no one would ever say that. It’s dark and painful, and Buck thinks it sounds like his mother.

He turns his attention to the new message, thinking it’ll be an assent to dinner, but is surprised when he sees ‘hey can we talk.’

Buck stares at the text.

He funnels through at least 3 different scenarios and none of them are good, so he fights himself until he manages to type back. ‘Yeah at work – everything okay?’

‘Better 2 talk in person’

Buck feels like someone’s poured a glass of ice water down his back and he just stares. He tries to think of what this could be about, he gave everything, he tried and he poured and poured and poured—

‘Does your family have a history of leukemia?’

Buck knows he makes a noise.

He makes a noise and it almost doesn’t register that it’s him. It doesn’t sound like him, it’s so broken and lost. It’s loud enough at that everyone in the recreation area look up from what they’re doing – even Hen and Chimney who are mid-Rainbow Road, both staring at him like he’s done something worth chastising.

Maybe he has.

He should’ve known. It’s what is replaying in his head over and over, like a horrible record scratch that he can’t fix. He hadn’t thought of it when Connor and Kameron came to him, because it wasn’t tattooed on his bones. The ghost of a brother that he failed to save, that cemented his failure as soon as four-years-old, haunts him in his dreams when he thinks he’s safe.

Now?

Now Daniel is next to him, hands extended out and begging for retribution.

‘We need to talk’

Defective parts.

Buck sucks in a breath, the realization hitting him harder than any punch ever would.

He never should’ve agreed.

He never should’ve agreed, not because it was painful for him, not because of how it would affect his life, not for any of the reasons Hen and Eddie and Maddie had laid out, but because he’s defective. Defective parts can’t create healthy babies. He should’ve known better, he should’ve been better.

“Hey, Buck… you okay?”

It isn’t until someone addresses him that he realizes his mug of tea is knocked over and is on the floor. The heat from the beverage seeps into his skin, but the feeling of burning is gone. Buck isn’t sure he really felt it at all. Glancing up from where he’s sitting, he sees the entire station staring at him as he’s having his own personal crisis.

He isn’t sure who asked the question, but he can’t think of an answer outside of ‘um no, I’m not thanks, thanks for asking’ so he stands up and leaves.

Buck takes the stairs two at a time in the way that Bobby hates, usually calling at him to knock it off lest his long Bambi legs be his death. Right now he thinks that it isn’t so much of his Bambi legs as it is his chest that will be his ultimate demise, which is aching in a way he can’t control. Buck pushes through the stupidly clear locker room to the back where the additional storage closets. Without thinking, he shoves into one, hand against his chest.

God, he forgot.

Buck isn’t sure if the Universe is playing a joke on him, but at this point, he thinks his life may be a full on joke. Because this isn’t how things were ever supposed to go. Buck wants to shout ‘I didn’t ask for this!’ but there’s a dark part of his mind that whispers, ‘you sure?’ Because he agreed and he consented and he was built to save people. That was his job since he was even thought up and he never in his life has been able to do so. The one thing he never realized stuck in his mind:

He was built of parts.

Defective ones, it seems.

They say one is a chance, two is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Buck has a pattern that may as well be a tapestry before him of all the ways he’s come up short, all the ways that he didn’t do what he should. He is a man filled with hope, but made with defective pieces, all threatening to crumble at any moment.

Gripping the metal bars of the shelving unit in the small closet he’s found himself in, Buck tries to catch his breath, his phone buzzing in his pocket again. And again. And again. Because Connor knows Buck had just been messaging him, and his silence spoke louder than any response could’ve.

Daniel.

The ghost who haunted him his entire life that he never could put a name to. The presence that had dictated every part of him – to the last cell – and all he could find in his heart was hurt. Hurt they never got the chance to really know each other, hurt that he had failed his older brother when that was everything he was made to do, hurt that he’s here and Daniel isn’t.

He didn’t mean to forget, it just always has been something that has been happening above him. He felt the effects, he got the aftermath, but he couldn’t lift his head high enough see what was causing it. By the time he found out, his entire life had been solidified in a different way. Sometimes it felt like it happened to another person, as if Buck could go outside his body and it was nothing more than a tragedy behind glass.

It makes him think of something Eddie mentioned once. On the rare moments when he would want to talk about therapy or about something Frank had said that the man clearly thought Buck would benefit from. Survivor’s guilt. At the time, Buck thought of the war and all those Eddie will never speak to again, and his heart ached for the man. Now, he’s beginning to discern that knowing look gave him in the kitchen, like he was expecting Buck to offer something of his own.

There’s a gentle knock at the door.

Buck really doesn’t want to see who’s at the other side of it, he’s happy to have his come apart in between the gauze and the paper towels. When he doesn’t answer, the figure opens the door all the same.

Recoiling, Buck is surprised to see Bobby slip into the closet, shutting the door behind him.

Buck’s always felt safe when it came to his captain, but in the same regard, that made him feel uncomfortable. He never was sure what to do with a parental figure that seemed to fully have his back, despite been given an ample amount of evidence why they shouldn’t. Buck never should’ve made it past his probie year, but Bobby kept loving him anyway, as though his mistakes were nothing more than opportunities to learn from. Stepping back, Buck feels another shelving unit dig into his shoulders as he stares at his captain. “Oh,” he breathes, wiping under his eyes because he knows he’s mere seconds from crying and came into a closet specifically so he could ride it out in peace. “Sorry, was there a call? I didn’t hear the alarm.”

Bobby tilts his head, sizing him up in that way he does that makes Buck feel seen and under a microscope all at once, causing the man to shrink as much as someone of his size could. He isn’t moving or chastising, so Buck thinks he didn’t skip out on an alarm, which is a relief because if he lost his job in the midst of all this, Buck isn’t sure what he would do.

“No, there’s no alarm.” Bobby says calmly, how Bobby is always able to stay calm. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Buck opens his mouth to say he’s fine. Give him a smile and wave off another worried loved one. Again.

Then his pocket buzzes.

And Buck breaks.

His face crumbles and he can’t bring himself to say the words. Say that he’s okay when he feels like he’s always trying to catch his breath, and wonders if that’s been the case his entire life and he’s just now noticing it. He thinks that may be true.

Shaking his head, tears dotting his eyes, Buck chokes out, “I’ve really messed up.” It’s a horrible thing to admit to your boss, and a horrible thing to admit to someone you consider a parental figure, but Buck can’t help it all the same. Bobby’s fixing him with that Midwestern sincerity that makes Buck want to spill all his secrets. “Really bad this time.” He manages.

Bobby takes a step forward and Buck has nowhere to go. He wants to, but also doesn’t, feeling cornered. “What happened?” Bobby asks evenly.

“What happened?” Buck laughs hollowly. “I happened! I am just—” Buck runs his hands through his hair, and looks down because he can’t let Bobby see him like this. Not when he’s been trying to convince Bobby that he’s ready, he’s ready for more responsibility and leadership, but god, it feels like the walls are inching closer to squeeze him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries to get his breathing under control, but finds that’s harder to do so.

He's doing his best, trying to get it under control, trying to push out the thought of Bobby staring at him with pity as he stitches himself together in the closet in the back room. It isn’t until a firm hand drops on his shoulder and Buck flinches does the man realizes he’s trembling with the effort of it all. Buck still doesn’t look at the man, instead waiting for his shaking to subside and the burn that stings his eyes to fade. Once he’s able to do so, Buck lifts his head, expecting to see disappointment. Shame. Anything that Buck associates with a parent, especially when he’s messing up as consistently as he has been.

Instead, Bobby’s face is gentle, laced with a little concern but even more warmth. Buck tries not to cast his gaze back down, even though it’s hard not to with the sheer amount of love that seems to be radiating from the man. “Sorry,” he manages, and it comes out chipped, like the crack of porcelain slowly snaking down the way of a cup.

Bobby shakes his head, as if to say ‘enough of that,’ and somehow Buck doesn’t feel pitied. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling something, Buck. I hope you know, you can always come to me if there’s something you need to talk about. I understand if you want to keep it to yourself, but my door’s always open. Not just my office, I hope you know. But my home. You are always more than welcome there, whether you need to talk something out or just want company.”

He doesn’t make a noise in the back of his throat, Buck will swear to his grave he doesn’t. The mere thought of it all nearly takes him out at the knees and he thinks he may be shaking his head, but he’s not entirely in charge of his body at the moment. He can’t bring himself to say the words out loud, he can’t bring himself to tell Bobby how much he’s fucked up this time, because at his heart, he’s selfish and doesn’t want to give the man a reason to leave. Except what tumbles out of his mouth is, “I forgot.”

Whatever Bobby must’ve thought Buck would say, that clearly isn’t even close because his brows furrow. “Forgot what, Buck?”

Buck now is definitely shaking his head, Bobby’s fingers now digging into his shoulder. He can’t say it. He can’t admit to Bobby this. “I can’t believe I-I forgot. I messed up so bad, I-I—”

Bobby must hear the crumbling at the edges of his words, because the man pulls Buck into an embrace, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. It’s a shock, but as Bobby holds him there, he feels the tremors start to slow and his heart to stop racing. It’s awkward because his hands were in front of him and now they’re tucked in between his chest and Bobby’s, but Buck watches as they slowly still.

It’s a few minutes and Bobby pulls away and somehow, Buck doesn’t feel like he’s going to fall apart quite as much just mere moments before. He doesn’t ask Buck to continue, to tell him what he forgot, and for that, Buck is grateful. He isn’t even sure he could say the words out loud right now without completely crumbling.

The alarm rings out in the distance, causing both men to startle, Buck sighing. He goes to move, but Bobby puts his hands up before he’s able to move past him. Hurt tinges his chest and the words come pouring out of his mouth before he can stop them, “I-I can work Bobby, it’s not going to interfere with the job, I swear, I—“

“Buck, hold up, that isn’t what I was going to say. I just wanted to say something before we both head out there.” Bobby says calmly, placing his hands down. Buck stills, waiting for it. Waiting for the disappointment he expected, the lecture that he wasn’t growing, wasn’t making the right steps that the man wanted him to, that he would never amount to anything, just like his parents always said. “I want you to know how much I meant what I said when I said you could come to me, and that I’m not saying because of any reason you’re likely telling yourself, but because I care about you. That’s it. Nothing more. You once told me that I was an important person in your life – one of the most important – and I realized after the fact I didn’t let you know that you were one of mine as well. And if you need me to explicitly tell you, I will.

“Buck, you are an important person in my life – one of the most important. You helped bring me back when I had accepted that life would be nothing more than hollow. You are one of the most important people in my life and I just want you to know I’m here. I’m here if you want to talk, and even if you don’t. I just need you to know that.”

Words are caught in his throat and Buck doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth and not cry. He gives Bobby a quick nod because it’s all he can bring himself to do, when the alarm still calls in the background. Bobby seems reluctant to leave, but Buck can hear people calling for the both of them.

With a warm smile, Bobby turns and opens the door.

*

Someone’s yelling at Eddie and he could not give less of a fuck.

What he’s really focused on is that a few paramedics from the 134 are fully restraining him like a feral animal, despite the fact that he informed them in no uncertain terms that if they continued to do so, he would fucking fight them. For some reason that wasn’t the calming negotiating tactic he figured it’d be.

“Calm down, Diaz! Jesus, we have to get you in an ambulance so we can take you to the hospital!”

Or something like that. His hearing is a little spotty and his attention is completely torn away by where there are people in the street placing pads on Buck’s chest. Eddie watches it jerk up with the motion that will haunt his dreams, crashing back to the ground, rainwater splashing around him, forever disturbed by the flurry of motion around him. Eddie manages to get an arm free, head swimming with the quick movement, but he tries to ignore it as much as possible. When someone tries to grip it back in their grasp, he swings because he warned them, and Eddie is nothing if not a man of his word. Eddie thinks he connects with someone because there’s a grunt and he sees stars in front of his eyes, but he’s one step closer to getting closer to Buck.

There’s a crackle of the radio and Eddie hears something that sounds like ‘requesting Capt—’ in his relative good ear – relative being the apt description – but he can’t find it in himself to care. He’s only thinking of one thing, only has one goal and that’s to get to Buck.

“Diaz!” Someone shouts and it’s loud and angry enough to break through the sheen of panic he’s feeling. “Sit down!”

He turns to the voice to tell them to go straight to hell when he sees Bobby marching up to where Eddie is, eyes alight with a myriad of emotions that Eddie doesn’t have the mental fortitude to decipher as the moment. “Bobby, I gotta—”

“All you have to do is sit there and let these paramedics examine you, and then take you to the hospital. That’s an order and not one I’ll have disobeyed.” Bobby snaps, something hard behind his words. Eddie wants to shout at the man, ask him how dare he even order him around right now when Buck was dy—

Eddie stops fighting the paramedics. He gazes up at Bobby and really sees the man. Sees the man haunted by the death of his family.

His children.

Eddie finally recognizes the emotion etched across Bobby’s face. The despair of a parent who has lost their child. Eddie sees it all the time and it’s the people who haunt him the most from his time as a firefighter. He thinks of the tsunami and the five seconds he thought the worst of Chris when he discovered Buck, and those were the longest and most traumatic five seconds of his life. Five seconds where the axis of his world tilted and he had to determine what life would be like if his son was no longer in it.

Eddie wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

He watches as Bobby’s attention is torn when they charge again and Eddie can’t bring himself to look, because he can’t see Buck’s lifeless body anymore. It stills his bones more than the rain and the concussion, because he thinks that it’s altering his life yet again.

The seconds where he has to consider what life will be.

Eddie wasn’t unrealistic, he knew there would be a moment where he and Buck wouldn’t be what they were anymore. He always assumed Buck would be taken away from him in another relationship, where the little bubble they created for themselves was finally burst.

He would take that every single time instead of this.

His chest tightens and he feels like there’s a sob trapped at his throat and he can’t let it out. It takes everything inside him to not scream at everyone in the area. It feels like its own force, clawing at his heart like a wild animal until he’s threatening to become one. “Please, Bobby. I need—”

“You need to take care of yourself.” Is Bobby’s stilted words, hardened in a way that chills Eddie silent. “You will be taken the hospital and you will be examined. I will not have any further casualties tonight, do you hear me, Diaz?”

Eddie stares and doesn’t respond.

His silence makes Bobby turn around, his eyes red and stern in a way that that makes Eddie not argue. “Diaz.” Bobby states, finally tearing his attention away from the sight before him. “Please.”

The word is so quiet, Eddie almost doesn’t hear it over the rain. The rain that thunders around them and please stays on the beat of it, begging, begging, begging.

The fight filters out of him, like steam evaporating the water around him. Eddie can feel tears biting his eyes and there’s nothing more he wants to do than implore Bobby to understand. Except his gaze is unwavering in his heartbrokenness and Eddie can’t think of an argument that would win against that expression. “I-I—”

“I know.” Bobby states. “Eddie, I know.”

He doesn’t expand off of that, clarify exactly what he knows, but Eddie can make a few guesses. He doesn’t say any of them out loud.

The tight grips on his shoulders lessen a bit when his muscles relax and he can feel those around him relax ever-so-slightly. Eddie allows himself to be led to the back of an ambulance, paramedics from the 134 trying to get him on a gurney which he adamantly refuses. They seem to realize it’s a ‘pick and choose your battles’ kind of situation, because they merely offer a hand in order to step up into the back, but Eddie can’t stop staring at Buck. They’re gently placing hands on his chest, shoving him backwards, but he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze from the scene.

“Buck!” He shouts again, the word jagged and raw, as if Buck would hear him distressed and simply awaken. The only movement he sees is from the people desperately trying to bring him back, a sob catching in the back of his throat again. “B-Buck—” He tries, but it breaks and it’s only a whisper for him.

For the first time he can remember, Buck doesn’t answer him when he calls.

*

“You still don’t have a couch, Buck?” Christopher says exasperatedly when he turns to face the living to see the solo leather chair in the center. The sentence is dripping with more teenage angst than Buck ever thought possible from a kid so small, so it nearly knocks him back. “Really?”

Buck turns to Eddie – who is entering through the door with his hands full of groceries – expecting the man to share a similar appalled expression, but he’s merely smirking like he told Chris to give Buck shit the second they walked into the apartment. It occurs to Buck that may actually be the case – he would never put it past Eddie to do something as ridiculously petty as that – so he waves the spatula at the two that’s in his hand. “You know, I don’t think this sass is a teenage thing, I think it’s a Diaz thing.” He accuses, ruining his own bravado by taking the groceries out of Eddie’s hands. “And quite frankly, I do not care for it at all.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Eddie says fondly, hanging up his jacket.

Buck can’t help but make an affronted noise at this, mainly because he can’t give Eddie any indication that he in fact does love it, so instead makes himself useful by making sure Chris’ usual spot at his table has a juice, some crackers, and a handful of pens – hues being dealer’s choice. Eddie sets the grocery bags on the counter, peering inside them after he does so, quickly glancing at Chris to make sure he’s getting settled with his homework. Turning to Buck, Eddie smiles in a way that makes Buck’s hands falter a bit. “So, what are we making tonight?”

“We?” Buck repeats, rolling his eyes. “It’s what I’m making tonight, you cooked last time.”

“Yeah, but you forget that now, I like to cook.” Eddie states, pulling out a few of the groceries. “Besides, Chris is going to be doing homework, so what am I going to do? Just annoy you the entire time?”

“Why should we change tradition now?” Buck responds cheekily, pulling out a sauce pan and putting it on the stove. He grabs the ground beef out of Eddie’s hands with a swift motion, cutting the thin plastic before flipping it.

Eddie snorts, leaning against his kitchen island. If Buck was feeling dangerous, he would think how good Eddie looks there – how natural it is for him to be leaning against his kitchen counter while Buck cooks. It all feels, well, it all feels so domestic, like after everything the world threw at them, they were allowed to be for a little while. Except Eddie makes a face that Buck thinks means he’s trying to persuade him to let him help, so Buck sighs and gestures vaguely to the bag filled with vegetables. “You can make the salad.”

“Salad?” Eddie cries, a little offended. “I am a good cook now Buck, how am I still relegated to chopping veggies duty?”

There’s a fit of giggles and Buck can’t help but smirk when Chris starts to laugh. “Because Eddie, I am making the sauce. There isn’t room for two people to make the sauce. Unless, of course, you want me to give you a piggyback ride while we make it.”

“Don’t tempt me, I haven’t been given a piggy back ride in a really long time.” Eddie says, bringing the vegetables out of bag.

Well, that unlocked something for Buck and he does not have any time to unravel it with both of Diazes in his kitchen. So instead he turns around to face the burner, hoping his ears aren’t as pink as his cheeks surely are. He focuses on the meat in the pan sizzling, breaking up the pieces into small chunks. “You know,” Eddie says behind him, the sound of a knife against a cutting board. “I could help you buy a couch. You don’t have to just be that weird guy wandering on a furniture store.”

“Weird guy—what are you even talking about?” Buck cries, turning around. “Why, is it weird to shop for a couch by yourself?”

“No, I just like winding you up.” Eddie laughs.

“Like that’s hard.”

“I gotta find a way to entertain myself. Chris is doing homework.”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Chris! Finish your homework quick, your dad is bullying me!”

“You two deserve each other.” Christopher grumbles without looking up from his textbook.

Making a face, Buck expects Eddie to meet his exasperation, but instead the man is now staring so intently at his vegetables with a pink tinge on his cheeks. He looks at Chris to get him to help, but apparently what’s going on in the kitchen is way less interesting than… algebra? Buck isn’t sure if that’s insulting or not.

No, he is sure. It’s insulting. Algebra sucks.

“So, Chimney was saying your parents are coming into town for Jee’s birthday?” Eddie says, clearing his throat.

Buck hesitates for a moment, his hand gripping the wooden spoon a little tighter for a second. “Yes.” He states, and it comes out a little more forced than he means. It is the worst thing he could’ve done, because now he can all but feel Eddie’s gaze on his back. “They’re coming for Jee’s birthday.”

“You sound… not fully on board.”

“It’s not really my decision.” Buck says and he’s convinced he sounds like he doesn’t care.

Eddie makes a small noise and Buck knows he’s failed. Christopher huffs from the table and he knows he really, really has failed. “It does affect you. You’re allowed to have an opinion about it.”

Buck clenches his lips together and he tries to put a clamp on his frustration. It’s been buzzing around his head and he’s been trying to ignore it, but it doesn’t help that it’s coming from Eddie. Because at his core, Buck trusts Eddie and Eddie can give him one look and he wants to tell the man everything. So Buck continues to focus on the pan, refusing to meet Eddie’s eyes. “Not really. Maddie feels strongly about Jee having grandparents.”

Eddie doesn’t respond right away. The chopping that he had been hearing stops, and Buck muffles a sigh. He knows this isn’t the last of it, and is proven right when Eddie says, “That still doesn’t have anything to do with how you feel about them coming here.”

“It does, though. I want to be there for Jee and Maddy. That means dealing with my parents. C’est la vie.” He says, waving his hand with the wooden spoon in the air.

“It would be more convincing if you would turn around and actually look at me, you know.”

Sometimes Buck wishes Eddie didn’t know him so well. Heaving a sigh with all of the dramatics of a telenovela he knows Eddie watches without Christopher, Buck turns around and fixes him a look. “See? I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s convincing.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “You know, it wasn’t until Chim mentioned them did I realize that you haven’t mentioned them in a really long time. Not since you said the three of you were going to do some therapy together. Which is weird, because the only way you could be more of an open book is if you started writing how you feel on your forehead.”

“Come on, Eddie.” Buck huffs, turning back to the stove.

“Don’t ‘come on,’ me, I’m ‘coming on’ you.” Eddie and Buck both stop. “I heard it, don’t dwell. You are never one to shy away from talking about this stuff, but you just… stopped. Now I’m a little afraid you’re going to snap that spoon in half if you hold it any tighter.”

Annoyingly, Eddie has a point. With a shaky exhale, Buck drops the spoon in the saucepan frowns. “Therapy didn’t go well.” Buck states with the grace of a brick. “We didn’t make it past two sessions.”

“Didn’t make it—Buck why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks, a little too caring for Buck’s precarious state. “That was ages ago, like over a year?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time.” Buck mumbles, picking the wooden spoon and stirring.

“Not important?” Eddie repeats and Buck can hear the anger boiling up in his voice, but just when he thinks it’s about to spill over, he hears a breath. “Buck. That entire thing was a big deal, what do you mean it didn’t see important at the time?”

“There were other things going on.”

“Okay, turn around. I’m gonna need you start giving me a lot more and not focus on the stove.” Eddie states, using his ‘dad’ voice whenever Christopher is doing something he knows is wrong. When Buck petulantly decides the stove is much more interesting than whatever face Eddie’s making behind him – even though he knows the exact one he’s using without looking – Eddie grabs his shoulders and turns him around. Buck makes a face at him, really having no desire to get into this, especially right now with Chris in the room, but he realizes Eddie’s not going to let it go.

“Just think about what happened pretty soon after that.” Buck offers. “I was distracted.”

“What possibly could’ve—”

It’s clear when it hits him. Buck winces because it’s like the two of them are on the street again, the sun beating against their necks, Eddie’s blood all over his face. Eddie’s hands ungrasp his shoulders and Buck expects the man to take a step away from him, but he doesn’t. He merely stares at Buck in an unreadable expression. Buck feels the need to hold his breath because he doesn’t know what to do, how to move forward, so he doesn’t do anything.

In the end, Eddie nods. It’s short and understanding, the weight of their past and even Christopher’s presence heavy on Buck’s chest. “Okay,” Eddie is the first to say something, taking a breath through his nose. “Alright.”

Buck nods, returning to the stove.

“That still doesn’t answer my question.” Eddie states from behind him, his tone clearly attempting to be light, but misses the mark.

“Did you have a question in all of that?” Buck laughs because he knows Chris can hear them and he really doesn’t feel like talking about this. He’s been preparing himself to seeing his parents ever since Maddie told him, and he’d rather do that in his own way. Which currently is, ignore the problem in hopes it’ll go away.

It’s not going great.

“My question is, what happened to make you guys decide therapy wasn’t worth it? Because I don’t know if you know this, Buck, but you were pretty vocal about your opinions on whether I needed therapy or not.”

“You do.”

“I’ve already told you were right, let’s not get back into that.” Eddie laughs. “And you were also pretty vocal about you needing it, and then told everyone you and your parents were going to do it.”

“Is there a point coming, or are you just reliving the past year right now?”

“My point is, you have never been quiet about therapy or getting help. In fact, you’re the one always being super irritating about it.”

“You know, I can’t decide if you’re trying to compliment me or insult me, which makes me believe that you need to work on both.”

“So something happened.” Eddie continues, ignoring Buck’s petulance. He can be pretty pissy when he’s annoyed and at this point, he’s only reigning it in because Christopher’s in the room. “And you don’t have to tell me the specifics, I just thought, I dunno, we told each other stuff. Even if it was hard.”

Now that makes Buck add guilt to the cocktail of emotions he’s currently feeling, so it ends up just making him sick to his stomach. “We do.” He says quietly, grabbing some spices from the cabinet. “It’s just—” He turns around to finally face Eddie willingly and sees nothing more than sadness on the man’s face, and the thought that he put it there makes him feel infinitely worse. “It’s hard for me to talk about it. Because, it’s hard to even think about, honestly. For the longest time, I had this vague ‘I don’t think my parents like me very much and I’m not sure why,’ and it worked for me because it let me keep them at arm’s length without going crazy. Now that I know, it’s so much… worse than I ever thought it could be.”

“Buck, what happened to your family was horrible, but in no way your fault—”

“My mom said that it never occurred to her that it wouldn’t work and that she and Dad never really talked about the consequences of what they’d be left over with if it didn’t.” Buck all but whispers, the words from their last session branded on his soul like a tattoo. Left over.

Story of his fucking life. He simply had wished someone had told him earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie’s tone turns murderous. “What.”

Buck winces, wishing he could get out of this conversation but they’re so deep into it, he isn’t sure the apartment catching fire could save him now. “It’s not a big deal, but Dr. Copeland even agreed it wouldn’t be good to do these anymore – at least not now.”

“No, no – I need you to go back and repeat what you said because there’s no way I heard you correctly.”

“Eddie, come on—”

“No, I’m so serious Buck.”

Buck sets himself. “I think she just meant that the way of, she never thought twice that it would go wrong. And it did and she didn’t realize that she’d have to – I mean, you know, raise the kid who wasn’t suppose to be there in the first place, especially since apparently I look a lot like Daniel.” Buck throws a hand in the air. “I was the consequence and the one left over. Which is, you know, fine because I didn’t even do what I was supposed to do in the first—”

Eddie cuts Buck’s rambling off, by grabbing the wooden spoon out of his hand, setting it on the counter, and pulling him into a hug. It startles Buck enough to stop talking. He can feel Eddie all but vibrating, the man saying, “That is so… oh my god, that is so messed up, I don’t even know what to say to that. You know that’s super messed up, right? Please tell me you know that.”

They break apart, Eddie’s face frazzled with concern, anger, and a few other emotions mixed in, and it’s enough to make Buck feel a little loved through the fuckery of it all. “Logically.” He laughs weakly. “Logically I think I do, it’s just hard sometimes. It just, I dunno. Gets loud.”

“I’ll remind you. God, whatever you need Buck, I’ll do it because that is so – ugh!” He bites off what Buck knows to be a slew of swear words, eyes casting to Christopher at the table.

Who is staring at the two of them.

Buck can feel himself flushing a deep shade of red. “Man, I’m sorry Chris, I know—”

“Are you guys talking about Buck’s parents?” Christopher asks, pencil down on the paper as he stares at them.

Eddie winces. Mouthing ‘sorry’, he turns to his son. “Yeah, sorry mijo, I know we’re being loud.”

“Your parents didn’t want you?” Chris asks like it was the most ludicrous thought in the world. Buck might burst into flames soon if this keeps on going, but the kid is looking at him with the most sincere eyes he’s ever seen, that he can’t find it in himself to stop this from happening. “Are they stupid?”

“Chris—” Eddie chokes out, a laugh catching in his throat as he turns away to hide that fact that he’s totally laughing. “We don’t call people stupid.”

“Even stupid ones?”

Covering his face, Eddie shrugs his shoulders to likely try and hide the face that he’s full-on laughing now. “Y-Yes.” He manages and it definitely sounds like he’s laughing.

Christopher seems to ponder this for a sec, turning back to the table. Buck thinks this little hell he’s found himself in may be over, until it’s clear that the only reason Christopher’s done so is so that he can push his chair away from the table to get up. He makes his way over to where the two are in the kitchen, determined, until he reaches Buck and wraps his arms around his waist.

Buck is undone.

Goodbye, thanks for playing, Buck will not be reachable for two to three business days. He manages to stifle a noise that is threatening to come out of his throat – thank god – but then realizes he won’t be able to stop anything else when Christopher tilts his head up to look at him as he hugs. “Well, you’re ours now.” He says matter-of-factly, as if there never any question about it. “Their loss.”

Buck reaches Eddie’s gaze, not sure what to expect. He didn’t think the man would be upset, but there was something about the certainty in Christopher’s voice that made him feel like he would argue. Instead, he finds something unbearably soft, the laughing fit from mere moments before gone. Eddie has a gentle smile and Buck has to keep looking at the ceiling to stop tears from simply pouring.

“You know what they say,” Eddie says with a shrug, picking his knife up again. “Kids only tell the truth.”

*

By the time Eddie makes it to the hospital, it’s complete chaos.

The aftermath of the storm has everyone running around, beeping and lights and shouting – it’s all too much for a distressed man with a concussion. Because that’s what they keep calling him. In distress. Panicking. A bunch of words he doesn’t normally associate with himself, but has to admit, are pretty true at present. They keep shining a light in his eyes and it’s blinding, but every time he shuts them, he’s back at the scene.

The image of Buck’s still body, arching with the shock, arm reached out for him, is burned behind his eye lids, Eddie wanting nothing more than never close his eyes again.

Every time the door opens, he stares at it, waiting for Buck to come through. Minutes pass that feel like eternities and every one that passes makes him more frantic. He should’ve been brought in by now, they would’ve gone as fast as they could. There would only be one reason for them not to be here by now. Only one reason they would stop hurrying, only—

No.

No.

Eddie refuses. He refuses to even entertain that thought. Because there’s no way Buck would… no.

Bringing his knees to his chest, Eddie can feel the panic attack coming on. Expect Franks techniques and words are nowhere to be found in his mind and there’s too much already going on for anyone to notice. His head starts pounding harder and he reaches out to grip his knees, placing his forehead on top of them. Every part of his body is shaking and he can’t seem to get it under control. It’s as if his skin is on fire – the world is on fire – and no one is even stopping to look. His breaths are coming out in short puffs, entire form trembling, and he’s tries to hold himself together when the world falls apart.

“Thirty-year-old male struck by lightning and resuscitated in the field, and then again in transport—”

Eddie whips his head up at the familiar voice, eyes searching frantically until he can see Hen and Chimney walking fast alongside the trauma team as a gurney is wheeled in the hospital. Hen is giving a relatively even recount of words that he never wanted to hear in association with Buck, but Eddie sees Chimney is silent, attention focused on the figure. He has a hand grasped in his and Chimney’s lips are moving, but it’s so quiet and Eddie can’t hear, so it drowns in the room. “Buck!” He shouts because he can’t stop himself, untangling his legs from underneath them. He nearly collapses when he gets up, but he needs to make his way over. “Buck!”

As soon as he’s there, he’s gone.

Eddie blinks and the world is going a little wobbly at the edges and he doesn’t understand why no one will let him be where Buck is. He thinks he may start yelling more, but then Chimney and Hen are in front of him, their hands out and reaching for him. His eyes are wild and he knows they’re filled with tears because the world is blurring and tilting. “Hen, Chim, you gotta—”

“He’s alive Eddie, you need to calm down—”

“No one is letting me go to him!” Eddie shouts and it hurts his own head. “I-I keep trying, but they won’t let me and Bobby, he—”

“Eddie, you were injured too, it was Bobby’s responsibility to make sure both of you were okay—”

“Does it look like I care about that now?” He bellows and everyone in the area turns toward that. “I need to see – I need to—”

“What you need to do is breathe, Eddie.” Hen says, gripping his shoulders. There are tears in her eyes and tracks staining her face and Eddie thinks about how frantic she sounded at the scene. The pain and terror in her voice as she called for help. Because Hen loves Buck. And Chimney loves Buck. He knows this and wants to give them moments to breathe, knows that whatever happened was horrible and traumatizing, but Eddie can’t and he knows he won’t be able to stop until someone lets him see the man. “Can you please do this for me? Can you breathe?”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Eddie says, and the tears and sob that he’d been holding in for hours are reaching up in his throat, clawing out. “How did this even happen? I-I—”

Hen reaches out to him, taking him in her arms, resting her head against his shoulder. He thinks of all the times Hen has embraced him and how warm and comforting it felt, but he feels none of that now. He feels scratched and raw and terrified. There’s no embrace in the world that would make that go away, except from the man who was taken away mere minutes ago.

“I need to call Maddie.” Chimney says, blinking his own tears away. “S-She—” he sniffs a few times, wiping under his eyes. “I know she’s with their parents, but she’ll come as fast as she can. And with Maddie here can get answers faster than we can.”

Eddie stills. He pulls away from Hen, licking his lips. “I-I can too, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m, uh, Buck’s medical proxy. Not Maddie.”

*

It’s the sort of day where everything goes wrong.

Eddie should’ve known therapy would go as disastrous as it did given he could barely get out of bed this morning, but even he wasn’t ready for the feeling of being pummeled. When he left Frank’s office, Eddie spent ten minutes in his car, unable to start it. The images of his platoon are etched over his face, the tragedy of their stories written in blood. He swallows thickly, trying to calm himself down enough so that he can drive home, but finds that even going home doesn’t seem right.

Eddie knows he can’t hide everything from Christopher, but he has no desire to expose him to more than is necessary. Starting the car, he shoots a text to Buck saying he’ll be a little late home because he wants to get some errands done, and true to Buck, he answers immediately saying to take his time. Right before he goes to put his car in drive, his phone pings again with another message from Buck.

He opens it to see Buck taking a selfie with Christopher, papers in front of them. Christopher is clearly studying, while Buck is making a collection of more and more ridiculous drawings, Christopher holding one up and mid-laugh. Underneath, he’s sent another text:

Why can’t I ever understand the assignment?!

The laugh erupts before Eddie can help it. It doesn’t sound entirely like a real laugh, but it is something. The most he’s laughed in a while. The statement would be sad if he wasn’t so relieved that he could even still do it. Quickly saving the photo, Eddie puts the car in drive and takes off.

Eddie isn’t sure where he’s going, but simply being in his truck and moving is enough. The ache in his chest where those who he’s loved and lost dulls a bit, and he’s able to breathe a little easier. It occurs to him while he’s driving that he never expected to be able to do this – simply take a moment to collect himself without feeling nothing but guilt. Leaving Christopher, everything that happened with Shannon, everything that has gone on in his family, Eddie simply assumed he would just need to move forward, despite feeling like everything was dragging him down all at once. Except he didn’t really feel like that anymore, not really.

The picture in his text messages comes to mind and he can’t help it, his lips quirk up.

On his way home, he stops by the local ice cream shop that they all love, because it sounds nice and he has been told he needs to stop denying himself nice things. Especially the small ones.

Arriving him, Eddie parks and grabs his bag, his chest settling a bit when he sees Buck’s Jeep in his driveway. On the back bumper is the Superman logo that Christopher gave him after the tsunami and he can see his trunk is filled with items that would most likely be described as ‘single dad backups.’ Eddie’s determined not to examine that.

Opening the door, he is immediately hit with the smell of something cooking, the warm scent making it even that easier to breathe. He peers into the dining area, expecting Christopher to still be there with his books, but finds it empty, with nothing more than a stack of drawings in the center. Pushing the kitchen door open, Eddie is greeted to Buck’s back as he stirs a pot on the stove. “Hey,” he says, quiet and a little ragged.

Buck takes it in stride as he’s taken everything, turning around to greet him. He beams at the sight of Eddie and it all but makes him have breathing problems again, but at least this time, it’s for an entirely different reason. “Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Oh, you know. Everyday is the best day ever.” He responds dryly, placing the ice cream in the freezer. Buck appears from behind him, peering at the carton, earning him a smack on the shoulder. “After dinner, you heathen.”

“One of these days, we will have dessert first and it’s gonna change your life.”

“I’m not sure if I could hand any more life changing things at the moment.” Eddie tries to joke, but it’s a little off kilter. “How’s Chris?”

Buck nods vaguely in the direction of his room. “He is currently doing his math in his room, because apparently even being in proximity to me makes him get the answers wrong.”

Eddie can’t help it, he snorts, but doesn’t dissent. The implication is clear because Buck swats him with a kitchen towel. “What’s that? Smells good.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Buck smiles as he starts to explain, but whatever the dish is, Eddie doesn’t hear it.

Because once Buck rolled up his sleeves, he reveals a patch bandage on his arm.

It’s as if everything he’s done to calm himself fades away. The drive, the breathing exercises, the ice cream, the comfort of his home. It’s all out the window, because Buck has a bandage on his arm.

He didn’t even know about it. He didn’t know Buck got hurt, he didn’t even know what day it happened. Just like he didn’t know about his platoon, they all were alive in his world and then… they weren’t.

“Woah, Eddie, you alright?”

“What happened?” Eddie asks, reaching out to grab his arm, fingers brushing gently against the bandage.

“Oh, that.” Buck snorts and Eddie just stares at him incredulously. “I don’t even know how I did it, I think I just scraped it on this guys shitty toolshed. Hen cleaned it and made me wear a bandage because, and I quote, I ‘have the impulse control of a teenager.’ Can you believe that?”

Yes, Eddie can, but that isn’t what he’s able to focus on. “W-Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question seems to catch Buck off guard. “Oh, I guess I didn’t really think about it. It happened this morning at like seven. I mean, it’s so minor, I didn’t even need a stitch. Cap even said he was relieved he didn’t need to write up another worker’s comp claim.” He laughs. “I guess I didn’t even think of it.”

“But you got hurt,” Eddie pressures, unable to take his hands off Buck’s arm. “A-And you need to tell me when that happens.”

“O-Okay, Eddie. I promise I’ll tell you next time. I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

“Buck, Maddie’s gone.”

Buck nearly startles out of Eddie’s grasp and he would’ve if Eddie didn’t currently have a vice-like grip on his arm. Eddie knows it wasn’t a great thing to say, or even something that makes sense given the conversation, but Eddie’s mind is reeling. There’s too much going on and he’s lost too much and—“She’s gone and she’s not answering your phone calls.”

Buck doesn’t answer right away. Eddie watches as flashes of hurt flicker across his face, but Eddie can’t bring himself to take it back because he needs Buck to understand. He feels his panic ratcheting up and his chest tighten. “I know you’re not trying to hurt me,” is what Buck manages – and, fair. “So, I need you to explain what you mean.”

“Buck, Maddie is your emergency contact. She’s not here and she’s not answering any calls. What if – what if you get hurt on the job again? I-I’m not there, I am not even your partner right now, and even if I was there, they wouldn’t tell me anything because I’m not—” Words start to pour out from his mouth and he can’t stop them, no matter what they may be revealing. “The job is dangerous and Bobby has made it crystal clear he’s not letting me back anytime soon. You could get hurt just standing on the fucking street and none of us could even see you if it’s bad enough. I-I would just be working and you could get hurt and I wouldn’t know. Fuck, you got hurt and I didn’t know!”

“Eddie, it’s not anything but a scratch.”

“She’s not answering, I’m sorry I keep saying that, but I can’t handle it. I can’t handle it, Buck. I can’t handle the thought of you being hurt and not being able to do anything about that. I-I—my entire team died and I didn’t know. That can’t be you. I-I can’t do that with you, Buck. I can’t, I need—“

“Okay.” Buck says gently, grabbing Eddie’s free hand and pulling it to his chest. “Okay Eddie. I understand.”

“No, I need you to understand that I need to know there will be someone who – who is there, that can get information, because—”

“We’ll change it. Tonight.” Buck states. “If you’re comfortable, I’ll make it you. Maddie can get the information anyways being my sister. And if you don’t want to be it, I can ask Bobby. I’m sure he’d—”

“I want it to be me.” Eddie says so quickly, the words all but pour out of his mouth. “I need it to be me.”

“Okay. Tonight we’ll change it to you.” Buck says with a soft smile, still holding his hand. “Okay?”

Eddie nods, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“I think so too. Hopefully it never has to be used though.”

The thought makes Eddie make a strangled noise. “God, I really hope not.”

*

Eddie stands at the threshold of his house.

In the end, he had a responsibility to his son. Once he was cleared from the hospital, Maddie arrived, and it became clear that surgery would be taking much longer than he ever would be comfortable with associated with Buck, he couldn’t stay. Because yes, he loves Buck and he felt like someone would need to pry him from the hospital chair he collapsed in, but…

Christopher loves Buck too.

He couldn’t reduce this moment to telling him on the phone. So with eyes full of tears and a promise from Bobby that he would call the second there was any information, Eddie got in his truck and drove.

He didn’t drive around to collect himself.

He didn’t stop for ice cream.

He merely drove him, vibrating out of his skin, Buck’s still body playing in every reflection he sees. He squeezes his eyes shut at every light to try and shake the image out of his head, but it haunts him. When he arrives at home and sees the warm light from inside the house, Eddie lets out a shaky breath.

He’s greeted by Carla at the door, her eyes endlessly sad. She grips his wrist, searching for answers he doesn’t have. He opens his mouth to say something – anything, but finds he can’t without crumbling. He has to hold onto the last pieces of resolve he has to get through the conversation with Chris. She seems to understand this, squeezing his shoulder one last time. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue – to say she needs to go home – but she shakes her head. “None of that. I’m here.”

It means more than Eddie could ever say. Just knowing she was there, she was in his house, was enough to make him calm ever so slightly.

Eddie approaches Christopher’s door, bringing his hand out to knock. He stops. He tries not to let out a cry but it comes out anyway, his hand frozen before the door. “Dad?” A voice calls from the room.

He is trembling. He needs to have it together, he needs to tell his son everything is fine, but the weight of his silent phone is making he struggle. “Dad, what are you—” Christopher comes to the door and stops. “Dad are you alright?”

It occurs to him that he has a bandage on his head. And probably looks a little worse for the wear. Lowering his hand, he settles. “Yeah, I’m alright. Can I come in? So we can talk?”

Christopher doesn’t move for a second. His eyes are big and searching, and he looks so much younger than he has in years. “It’s Buck.” He states, not moving.

Eddie opens his mouth, but doesn’t know what to say. Assent? Disagree?

Instead, he stands there, in his doorway, hands flexing like he’s trying to get the feeling back into them and nods. “Yeah, kid. It’s Buck.”

Christopher looks away for a second. When he returns his attention, Eddie realizes it’s because his eyes are filled with tears and he sniffles a few times. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Can we talk inside—”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Eddie’s pocket buzzes. He knows he needs to answer Chris’ question, but he can’t help but pull it out of his pocket. This is the answer. This is the answer to the question.

Bobby:

Call me when you can

We need to talk

When he returns his attention back to Christopher, the tears finally fall. All of the calm, all of the attempts he made to keep himself together, crumble. With two texts. Eddie sucks in a breath and he feels the earth slip from under him as he answers, “I don’t know.”