Work Text:
It was a good day when all their calls ended in success. An automobile accident and an incident involving a large sinkhole resolved with only minor injuries. If they took 10th street back to the firehouse, then his and Eddie’s shift would end, and they could find some alone time.
"I was thinking we could check out that new fusion restaurant next to the Brew House," Buck suggested.
Eddie wrinkled his nose. "That vegan place?"
"There are other options on the menu. I heard they had a fantastic wet burrito."
"You know that’s just enchilada sauce mixed with brown gravy, right?"
Before Buck could answer Bobby informed over the radio that they were responding to a medical emergency.
Buck sighed and Eddie rested the back of his head against the seat and closed his eyes.
Back-to-back calls at the station were not unusual, but answering one after finishing a scene was always a challenge. The body could only manage so many cycles of adrenaline in a twelve-hour shift.
"Hey, Cap. Not to be that person, but isn’t that out of our way?" Chim asked.
"The 133 and 532 both got sent downtown for a major gas leak and multi-building containment."
Hen looked at her partner. "Tonight’s date night?"
"It was."
They pulled into the entrance of a large apartment building, everyone climbing out of the rig.
"Which unit?" Hen asked, shouldering her med bag.
"We don’t know."
"Cap?" Eddie asked, looking over at Bobby.
"Call came in about a male victim, a possible heart attack, but the call disconnected before dispatch could get more information."
"Could be a kid who panicked and hung up," Eddie said, scanning the buildings.
Children were often overcome by the stress of the moment when dialing 9-1-1, especially if a parent had stopped breathing.
"We’ll split up, go door-to-door," Bobby instructed. "Maintain radio contact."
Buck glanced at Eddie who gestured in the opposite direction of the others.
Canvassing neighborhoods was part of the job, but heart attack victims only had precious minutes if the brain was cut-off from oxygen.
They hurried. Pounding on doors, searching through windows if there was no answer. Asking neighbors if they heard anything. Every second was another strike against saving someone.
Buck ran toward the final house at the end of the row. Eddie beat him to the last step and rapped his knuckles on the door.
Chest heaving, Buck nodded at him. "Do you think this could all be a wild goose chase?"
"Maybe," Eddie frowned. "Did you hear that?"
Buck listened. "What?"
Eddie peered through the window trying to look between the drawn curtains. "I thought I heard something."
There. Buck noticed movement in one of the rooms. The outline of two people – were they struggling? It looked like it. The curtain diffused much of it, but it was enough of a glimpse. Something in his gut coiled. Eddie tensed beside him.
"LAFD!" Eddie called out, knocking harder. He tried turning the knob to no avail.
This was a gray area. There was a probable active emergency somewhere in the complex. As first responders they could breach the entry, but if they didn’t have just cause….
“If you don’t answer, we’re going to break down this door!”
“Eddie,” Buck warned.
But Eddie wasn’t playing games. He was worked up and on edge. Buck started to say something else when the door cracked open.
A woman poked her head out, her voice shaking. “Yes?”
“Are you alright ma’am?” Eddie asked.
The question was rhetorical. Blood dripped down her chin from a busted lip, her puffy face framed by the beginnings of two black eyes.
“I’m fine. Is there, um…,” A shadow loomed. Her trembling hand gripped the door frame harder. “How can I help you, officers?”
“We’re with the L.A. Fire Department,” Eddie said, his voice calm. “We really need to come in. It’ll just take a moment.”
The woman glanced behind her, whispering, “I can’t…. I’m trying….”
The shadow retreated.
Eddie stuck his foot under the door, slowly pushing it open as he eased his way inside. “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”
Pieces of a shattered lamp littered the living room floor and there was a fist-shaped hole in the wall. Buck maintained situational awareness. He almost radioed at update, but he kept quiet, knowing it might spook their victim.
"Hi, I’m Eddie. What's your name?" Not Firefighter Fire Diaz, nothing impersonal.
She looked down at the floor. "Um, Cheryl."
"Is everything all right, Cheryl?"
She wrapped her arms around her small frame. "Why wouldn’t it be?"
Denial became a habit. It was an accident. It doesn’t happen often. It was my fault. But the blood she wiped away from her mouth said otherwise.
Buck hung back while Eddie tried creating a rapport. If Eddie’s focus was on their patient, it wasn’t on his surrounding environment. Buck looked and listened, noting movement in the hallway--
A man walked out of the shadows. Cheryl flinched when he stepped up behind her. "Everything's fine," he said.
Buck inched closer, watching the man for signs of a weapon.
"You’re still bleeding." Eddie put his bag down. "Let me take a look."
The man dug his fingers into Cheryl’s arm, and she slapped his hand. His nostrils flared as he tried crowding her.
Eddie stood to his full height, broad-shouldered and intimidating. But never took his eyes off Cheryl, his expression kind, grounding.
"And what’s your name?" Buck asked, trying for a distraction.
The man crossed his arms over his chest.
"This is my husband, Roger."
Roger clenched his jaw. The dynamics had shifted. From victim and aggressor to victim, aggressor, rescuer. Buck knew he couldn’t approach the husband without risking violent behavior.
Eddie finished sliding on a pair of latex gloves, still non-threatening. He gestured toward the kitchen. "I think there’s more light in here?"
Away from the damage in the living room, away from danger. Eddie didn’t say it; he didn’t need to.
"Excuse me, Roger,” Buck said. "I couldn't help noticing that you have a bit of bruise on your cheek."
It was a risk engaging with the spouse, but it provided a split-second diversion. Roger glanced at Buck, and Eddie moved, creating a barrier between Cheryl and her husband.
Roger spun around and started after them. Buck followed. "Sir, why don’t you let my partner take a look at your wife. It shouldn’t take long."
Buck stepped on the remains of a broken plate. Roger looked back at him in annoyance as if he’d momentarily forgotten Buck was there.
He tried to keep him occupied, keep husband and wife separated, give Eddie a chance to assess her in private. "Do you have a broom for this?"
"No." Roger turned toward his wife. "Cheryl."
His wife sat on one of the kitchen chairs. Eddie moved until he stood in front of her, blocking the other man’s view.
"Cheryl," Roger growled.
It was obvious that the husband felt like he’d lost control over the environment.
Buck’s radio was clipped to his shoulder, but he couldn’t risk using it in front of the husband and he couldn’t leave Eddie alone.
Eddie talked quietly while taking Cheryl’s pulse. "Can you follow my finger?"
Cheryl was distracted. Fidgety. Scanning the kitchen, staring at the pantry door, her eyes landing on a discarded jacket on the floor.
"You have some facial swelling."
"I’m clumsy."
"And these faded bruises on your arms?"
She pulled her sleeve down to cover them.
Eddie searched his bag. "Looks like I don’t have any lidocaine for your cut."
Buck knew Eddie had just re-stocked it this morning.
"If you come with me to the rig…."
"I can't."
"But—"
"You heard her," Roger stepped closer.
With the increase of violent incidents every year, the Firefighter's Association brought up the issue of providing their members with tasers. For the first time in his life, Buck wished he had one.
Eddie kept his back to Roger while he continued speaking to Cheryl, providing a connection. Protection.
Roger cursed under his breath. He balled up his fingers.
Buck took a step closer–
"Buckley, Diaz. Report."
Roger stared at Buck. His expression hardened. "Get out."
Eddie stood in front of Cheryl. She placed a hand on Eddie’s arm and started to move away from him. "I can't leave without --"
"Buckley, Diaz. This is Captain Nash; I need a status report."
Buck reached for the radio. The moment his fingers curled around it, Roger grabbed Buck by the shoulders and tossed him against the wall. Buck couldn’t get his arms up in time to prevent the attack, but he was able to brace his feet, reducing the impact of the blow.
Roger turned toward his real target but Eddie had already pushed Cheryl down to the ground and was rising to defend himself.
Roger swung a fist at Eddie’s head; Eddie ducked. By the time Roger realized he’d missed, Buck and Eddie were on him.
Eddie grabbed one wrist, Buck the other, and together they immobilized Roger’s arms behind his back. The man wasn’t going down without a fight. He tried ramming Buck into the wall again and headbutting Eddie.
It was like trying to take down a wild animal.
"Get him on the ground," Eddie yelled.
Buck jerked Roger’s arm, wrenching it higher up on his back while Eddie hooked a leg around Roger’s knee to knock him off balance, the two of them wrestling him onto the floor.
"I’m going to kill you, Cheryl. I'm going to kill you and then I’m going to kill---."
Buck pressed a knee to Roger’s spine, using all his weight to pin him to the floor. Eddie pulled out a pair of zip ties.
Roger continued writhing and screaming obscenities. Eddie barely got the zip tie around his wrists before Roger lashed out with his legs, catching Buck in the knee.
"I’ll get the ketamine!" Eddie grabbed his medical bag, digging through it. "Hold on, Buck."
Buck had to climb on top of Roger, using all his body weight to keep him still, and even then he was afraid it wouldn't be enough.
Eddie almost lost his footing as he hurried over, injecting Roger’s bicep with the sedative. Then Eddie sat on his legs, he and Buck restraining him with their combined weight, until finally, Roger went limp.
Breathing hard, Buck crawled off him. Eddie got up and checked Roger’s pulse. Wiping his face, he released a heavy breath. "He’s out."
Buck sagged onto the floor. "Thank god."
Cheryl pulled her knees up where she was leaning against the opposite wall and sobbed.
Eddie got to his feet and slowly went toward her. "It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you the help you need."
"Please…," her voice stuttered. "My son…."
"Your son?" Eddie asked.
Cheryl pointed at the pantry closet.
Eddie shared a confused look with Buck, his brow furrowed. He looked down at the jacket on the floor, picking it up. It was a child’s size.
"What’s your son’s name?" Eddie asked.
"Jack."
Moving toward the pantry, Eddie rested a hand on the doorknob. "Jack? Are you okay?"
There was no answer. Eddie started turning the doorknob. "Jack, I’m Eddie. I'm a firefighter. Your mom is safe."
Eddie pulled open the door and the room filled with a high-pitched scream.
Before Buck understood what was happening, a boy lunged at Eddie who was unprepared for the fury of a traumatized kid.
The encounter lasted seconds. Eddie was on the floor, with Jack poised over him with a kitchen knife. The kid was hyperventilating, the knife shaking in his hand.
"Jack!" Cheryl cried out.
The child froze at the sound of his mother.
"You’re okay," Buck said, trying to keep his voice even when he felt anything but calm.
Jack stared at Buck in terror, his chest heaving, tears sliding down his face.
"Just breathe," Buck instructed, his hands held out in front of him. "You’re safe. Everyone’s safe."
Finally, as realization of his surroundings slowly dawned, the kid stared where his father lay unconscious. His eyes widening in fear.
"It...it’s okay," Eddie said from his prone position on the floor. "You’re okay."
"You’re safe, Jack. He can’t hurt you," Buck told him.
He risked a glance at Eddie who was still reassuring the kid. Buck's pulse slowly started to slow down from his panicked high, until he noticed rivets of blood dripping down Eddie’s arm.
No. Not again.
"Sweetie," Cheryl pleaded. "Please. Come here."
The kid looked at the knife in his trembling hand, then at Eddie, his expression breaking. "I didn’t…I didn't mean to."
"I'm okay," Eddie reassured him.
But Buck could hear the crack in Eddie’s voice, the way he struggled to keep his breathing under control. All Buck wanted to do was go to his side, but he couldn’t risk scaring Jack and endangering Eddie further.
"It’s okay, sweetie. I promise. Just drop the knife." Cheryl opened her arms. "Please.... Mom needs a hug."
The knife clattered to the ground as Jack ran toward her.
It was like Buck had been on a roller coaster and now it was in a free fall on the way down.
Buck kicked the knife out of the way. Then he grabbed the medical bag and knelt beside Eddie. “Hey, I’m here.”
Eddie held his right bicep in a death-grip, blood leaking between his fingers. "I don’t know how many times he got me…."
There was an alarming amount of blood on the floor. Buck hadn’t seen any of it from where he’d been standing.
"It happened so quick," Eddie mumbled, like he was talking to himself.
Shock was Buck’s number one concern. He grabbed his radio. "This is Buckley, we have a firefighter down. I repeat a firefighter down. Send EMS.”
Buck ran his fingers over Eddie’s shoulder. "You’re going to be okay," he said, counting several shallow cuts. Then he reached Eddie’s bicep. Shit. There were at least two puncture wounds.
Buck frantically searched the med bag.
Eddie sucked in a ragged breath. "...the hemostat.”
"That’s what I’m looking for. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Buck found the bandage with the clotting agent. He took a deep breath, locking eyes with Eddie. “I’ll count to three then you let go of the pressure."
He waited for Eddie to nod before starting. "One, two, three.”
Eddie removed his hand; blood gushed down his arm.
Buck pressed the bandage hard against the injury, the dressing quickly soaking through. Grabbing another one, he packed the wound, using both hands to try to stem the bleeding.
“Fuck,” Eddie said, pounding on the ground with his other fist.
“I’m sorry,” Buck said, squeezing harder.
Eddie’s face was pinched in pain, his breathing labored.
"Buck, where’s your location, over?"
Shit. Buck couldn't let go of the pressure and answer the radio. He stared down where his hands were crushing Eddie’s arm, a steady stream of blood continued leaking from underneath the dressing.
It wasn't going to be enough. The arteries ran through the armpits and ended near the elbows. He needed to apply a tourniquet.
Buck would have to release the pressure to find one. He needed like four more hands.
"Buck! We need your location, over!"
He made a strategic decision. He kept pressure with one hand and used the other one to grab the radio. "We’re at…." Damn it. What was the street address? "We’re at the last house west of your position."
Letting go of the radio, Buck started searching for the medical bag.
"How’s…the...," Eddie swallowed, his voice weak. "The kid?"
Buck risked a glance behind him, mom and son were huddled together. "They're safe."
Eddie’s eyes fluttered close. "Good."
"Hey!" Buck rubbed Eddie’s sternum with his fist. "Don't fall asleep!"
Eddie jerked awake. "Copy." But his pallor was gray, and his head was beginning to lol to the side again.
Buck’s heart pounded against his breastbone; his stomach twisted into knots. "Eddie, talk to me. Come on."
He let go of his death hold over the wound and started ripping apart the med-kit in a frantic search of the damn tourniquet that eluded him. Come on, come on, where was it?
"Buck!"
Bobby. Thank God.
"In the kitchen!"
Hen ran over, Chim hot on her heels. "Talk to us."
Buck exchanged positions with them. "He’s alert and responsive, with multiple stab wounds to the upper arm."
Buck tried wedging himself between them, but Bobby rested a hand on his chest. "Let Hen and Chim do their jobs."
"No…I-I need to.... I…."
"Buck."
Buck acquiesced to Bobby’s insistence and stepped away. Relegated to bystander, his knees barely holding him from the crashing adrenaline. Catching only glimpses between Hen and Chim’s hurried movements.
"Hey, Eddie." Hen crouched beside him. "How are we doing?"
"Been...better."
"I bet." Hen pulled out a pair of scissors and made quick work of Eddie’s shirt sleeve and started inspecting the soaked dressing.
She shared a tight expression with Chim. "I’ve got two lacerations. One’s really deep."
"Nicked the brachial?"
"Maybe."
"Okay, buddy,” Chim said. "We’re going to give you some O2." He placed an oxygen mask over Eddie's nose and mouth then pulled out a blood pressure cuff. "BP’s 70 over 40."
That was too low. Buck tried to control his bubbling panic.
Hen pulled out a tourniquet from her bag and started preparing it high on Eddie’s arm. "Remember to breathe while I fasten this. Deep breaths," she said, pulling the strap tight and twisting the windlass.
Eddie gasped, kicking out with his feet.
"I know it hurts, I know," she soothed. "Just breathe, okay. Deep breaths in and out."
Buck hugged himself, feeling helpless.
Tourniquets crushed the muscle to squeeze the artery shut against the bone. Buck vibrated with the need to do something, but there wasn’t a spot for him to fit into without being in the way of Hen and Chim’s care.
Bobby still hovered. "Police are two minutes out. I presume this is the guy who needs to be arrested."
Buck wasn’t paying attention to what Bobby was saying.
Hen finished another cursory exam, hanging her stethoscope around her neck. "We need to push fluids."
"Already on it," Chim said, working on an IV.
"Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"I asked if that’s the person responsible?"
It took a moment to realize that Bobby was gesturing at the husband who was still unconscious. "Yes. I mean, no."
"I know you just went through a lot, but I need a sitrep."
"How's his crit?" Hen asked.
Buck didn’t catch Chim’s reply. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Buck."
He finally turned around. His hands were shaking and stuffed them under his armpits. Focus. He needed to focus. Do the job.
"We were going door-to-door…. There was something, I don’t know. Eddie and I thought we saw a fight. We knew it was probably domestic violence." His face flushed hot and sweat prickled at his skin. "We followed the procedure, Cap. We didn’t break any rules. Maintained scene awareness, didn’t do anything to escalate tensions. "
"I have no doubt that you Eddie and took every precaution. There is no blame here." Bobby looked Buck in the eye. "You entered the scene. Then what?"
"Yeah. And we tried, I mean, Eddie tried to separate them. Evaluate her." His thoughts were going a mile a minute, the last few minutes finally laying roost inside his head, one final adrenaline crash and cortisol dump. "But the husband.... He went ballistic and um…."
"He attacked Eddie?"
"No. Yes. I mean he attacked us, but it was his kid who...who...."
Bobby looked over at Cheryl and her son huddled in the corner.
Buck took a shuddering breath. "It was an accident...the kid, Jack, was hiding in the pantry. And he…."
The police arrived. The house filled with more chaos.
Chim nodded. "We’re ready, Cap."
It was the first good look Buck had of Eddie. His upper arm was covered in bandages and his face was obscured by the O2 mask, but he managed the barest of waves with his hand, the small gesture making Buck’s breath catch in his throat.
"Go ride with them," Bobby told Buck. "I’ll wrap up here."
Relief filled his chest. "Thank you."
Just before Buck started after the gurney, he hesitated, glancing back as officers approached Cheryl and her son. "He didn’t mean to hurt Eddie. He was just trying to protect his mom."
"They’ll get the help they need. Now go."
Nodding, Buck followed Hen and Chim and climbed in the back of the ambulance with Eddie.
After hours in the waiting room with his team then forced to return in the morning, Buck was finally allowed inside Eddie’s room.
He was greeted with the softest heys as he sat in the chair beside the bed. "It’s good to see you awake."
Eddie rewarded him with a tired, but pleased grin. Buck scooted the chair closer. "Since it’s Saturday, Christopher is with Carla until visiting hours begin in a little while."
Eddie raised an eyebrow and Buck shrugged. It was six in the morning. "Call it special LAFD boyfriend privileges. Besides, I just needed to see you."
"I’m glad you did," Eddie told him.
White bandages took up most of Eddie’s right arm which rested on a sling. He looked down with resignation. "I wasn’t expecting this when we woke up this...I mean yesterday…morning."
"You and me both." This was supposed to be their weekend off together. "The surgery went well by the way. There was some vascular repair, but no major injury to the artery."
"Cheryl and her son?"
"At a hotel. They meet with an emergency counselor."
Eddie got a faraway look in his eyes. Buck knew what he was thinking about how often the system breaks and how often the victims were caught in an endless cycle of violence when there was nowhere else to go. He tried not to think about his sister. "Bobby said there’s family on the east coast. Something tells me they're going to start over."
A path towards healing.
"And the husband?"
"In a county lockup facing multiple assault charges. He doesn't have a way to post bail."
"I just can’t stop thinking about…." Eddie breathed heavy on his oxygen. "The fear on that kid’s face. What kind of nightmare he must have been living."
Buck intertwined their fingers. "Not anymore." It didn’t erase the past, but at least now there was a possible new beginning. "I’m just sorry that…."
Eddie squeezed his hand. "Don’t."
"I wasn’t going to blame myself,” Buck reassured him. “I replayed everything over in my head and I know we did everything right. I just hate that you got hurt."
Eddie lifted Buck's hand, kissing his knuckles. "I'll go home to you and Christopher tomorrow. And Cheryl and her son...."
"Will get another tomorrow," Buck said.
Because he and Eddie dedicated their lives trying to ensure that as many people as possible got another chance at one.
Fini-
National Domestic Violence Hotline.
Comments are always appreciated.
Part of my Bad Things Happen Bingo: Stabbing.
You can find me on Tumblr.