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There’s a loud crack. There is shaking and rumbling, scraping and banging, and suddenly Eddie is falling tumbling spinning twisting so much twisting dropping-
Crash.
All air is pushed out of him when he finally stops moving, and nothing but the tiniest squeak leaves his throat when a massive weight slams into him. His chest hurts, his legs hurt, his lungs hurt, everything hurts hurts hurts, and when his eyes droop closed he thanks them. Taking a rest sounds really nice right now, actually. Maybe the white-hot pain in his everywhere will stop stealing his breath away every time he tries to-
‘118, report in. I need a head count.’
Buck.
A shudder goes through Eddie that has nothing to do with his current situation. Of course Buck is out there. Where else would he be? Always in the middle of the danger, attracting it like a magnet somehow. Buck not being there when the world collapses is laughable.
His eyes threaten to close again, and he rapidly blinks them, trying to get rid of the drowsiness. Now is not the time. Buck needs him. Eddie’s fine.
Eddie tries to wiggle around a bit, trying to figure out where he is hurt exactly, and he is immediately greeted with a stabbing pain in his ribcage. Broken. Yep, definitely broken. He tries to take in a deep breath, even though he knows it will do nothing, and searches for the source of Bucks voice.
He finds the radio not too far away, and he reaches for it. If the whimper he lets out isn’t exactly the manliest noise he has ever produced, well, then that is just going to have to be what it is right now.
‘I’m in the van. Pretty sure I broke a couple of ribs.’
As if to demonstrate his current predicament, something above him shifts, and he lets out a groan. Metal creaks, and Eddie’d wince if he could move.
‘But this van is about to get pancaked.’
It’s quiet over the line, for just a moment. Then the radio crackles back to life.
‘Okay Eddie, uh, we’re coming to you.’
Buck doesn’t sound too sure of himself, and Eddie curses. Did Buck get hurt too? Should Eddie ask? Why hadn’t he asked? For all he knows Buck could be bleeding out on the street, leg pinned under the firetruck, and there’s blood so much blood and screaming oh god the screaming why isn’t anybody doing anything Buck is right there and he is dying who cares about some stupid kid with a bomb-
Eddie clenches his eyes shut, tucking those memories away far away right where they came from. There is no bomb, he reminds himself. That was a different night, and Eddie is fine. Buck is fine. He must be.
Eddie conveniently glosses over the fact that he has no idea what happened to the bridge he was standing on just a few minutes ago.
Minutes? Has it only been minutes? It must have been, yet Eddie feels like he’s been down here for ages. His breath comes in short bursts, not being able to expand his chest much due to the pile of stuff on his back, and his vision is fuzzy around the edges. He hears some noise over the radio, something about Bobby not being accounted for, but it’s all he can do not to pass out.
His stilted breath turns into a cough, and his entire body shakes with the effort. It feels like his ribs are grating on each other, and he lets out a blood curdling scream. But he’s fine. You see, his eyes aren’t teary, they’re just agitated from the dust. And that tremor that went through him isn’t from the pain, he’s just a little cold. And the way his heart feels like it’s beating out of his ches… Oh, who is he kidding. Eddie isn’t fine, far from it even. Everything hurts and he just wants it to stop.
Just as he’s about to close his eyes for a moment, just a moment, a voice sounds on the other side of the metal walls encasing him.
‘Okay, Eddie, you in there?’
The relief that flows through him almost makes him want to sing, but all that he manages is a pained groan. It is enough for Buck, though, as he pats the van and yells: ‘Let me get these doors open. Just shield your eyes.’
There’s some noise on the other side of the doors, and Eddie looks around, trying to find something to cover his head. It feels like too much effort, though, and he ends up simply putting his gloved hands in his hair.
The saw buzzes to life, and Eddie can tell when it touches the door for the first time as the entire van starts shaking ever so slightly. His ribs shift, and he wants to scream, but he doesn’t want to scare Buck, never scare Buck, so he bites his lip until he tastes copper.
The grinding snakes its way into his ears, nestles itself into his brain, until the saw is the only thing he can hear over his rattled breathing. Eddie just wants this to stop, wants to be out of the van, wants to lay in his own bed, wants to not hurt anymore, wants the whining of the saw to stop, wants Buck Buck Buck.
He feels too sick to throw up, somehow, and he loses himself in the sound of the saw and the clenching of his eyes and the feeling of his own fingers pressing him down onto the floor. It feels like it lasts forever. Maybe it does.
Suddenly, forever ends. Eddie hears metallic creaking, followed by all too familiar grunting. He looks up, removing his hands from his head, and is greeted by the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. Buck stands there, taking off his glasses to get a better look at him, and Eddie wants wants wants. But there’s concern in those eyes, and Eddie frowns just a little. He put that concern there. He has to take it away.
He swallows his wants and needs and pains and “Thank God you’re okay”s and “I was so scared without you”s and “Never leave me again”s and instead asks if there’s any sign of Bobby. Bucks minute shake of his head does nothing to slow his racing heart.
‘Sorry about this,’ Buck mutters as he leans into the van and reaches out his hand. Eddie latches onto it, holding on for dear life, wanting it to make everything better, and he know it won’t, but it also slightly does because it’s Buck, Buck is here, and his ribs are screaming and-
‘This is gonna suck.’
Eddie’s world explodes into pain as Buck pulls him out by the arm. God it hurts it hurts he wants it to stop why isn’t it stopping how is it even worse than before why isn’t Buck doing anything to stop it Buck Buck Buck make it stop it hurts God it hurts so much.
Buck’s mumbled apologies cut through his haze, and for a second he wonders whether he said all of this out loud, but then his torso hits a ridge in the floor of the van and Eddie sees stars.
‘Okay, I got you,’ Buck assures him as he pulls Eddie out of the van, and all Eddie can do is let out a strangled cry. He knows he’s supposed to tone it down, minimize it for Buck, but all he wants to do is curl up into a ball and never move again. He feels red hot tears streaking down his face as his legs are put under him and suddenly he feels solid ground for the first time in he’s-not-sure-how-long. He stumbles, and familiar strong arms wrap around him, and he allows himself to be supported by them for a little bit, he just needs to catch his breath, that is all. Air is filling his lungs in big gulps, and it feels like his insides are on fire, and he coughs and coughs trying to get rid of the icky feeling everywhere. A hand rubs his back, and his eyes drift closed.
The moment’s over way too soon, and suddenly there’s a whirlwind of activity all around him. Hen is puking and the ambulance is rolling and the van is falling and he would have been crushed squashed flattened dead if it wasn’t for Buck and Chimney is falling and Buck saves him, of course Buck saves him. Bobby is found and they push push push and lift and pull and tug and he’s alive, he’s alive, and Eddie feels like he can breathe again and everything hurts but he’s fine, he’s fine, he has his team and he has Buck and he is fine.
He doesn’t remember how he got there, but suddenly he’s in an ambulance being propped up by a strong body, and if he leans into it, well, can anyone blame him?
A paramedic offers him something for the pain, and Eddie shakes his head no, he doesn’t want that, he’s fine, can’t they tell he’s fine? When they keep insisting he raises his voice, and he feels more than hears Buck next to him sigh. Eddie cannot look him in the eye.
Then they’re at the hospital, and Athena is carrying him in, and Buck is gone why isn’t Buck here where is Buck Buck Buck. He hears Hen say something about his broken ribs, and how he refused to take anything for the pain, and even though Buck isn’t right here Buck has to be somewhere, so he reminds them once again that he is fine, he is fine, why won’t anyone believe him?
Eddie is deposited onto an emergency room bed, and there’s hands everywhere, but none of them are the right hands, and he swats them away, repeating the two words he’s been saying all along over and over again. He just wants to go home to his kid, watch a movie or two, and maybe fall asleep on a one very specific broad shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t want that, isn’t allowed to want that, but he’s in pain damnit (he’s fine) and he’s tired and grouchy and he just wants Buck in whatever capacity he can have him.
‘For the love of God, will you just shut up and let them have a look at you?!’
Buck joined Eddie when he wasn’t paying attention, because of course Buck did, where else would he be, and Bucks outburst shocks him into silence. Buck never yells, not at Eddie. The last time he did… Eddie cannot remember the last time. He stares at his partner, and for the first time he notices the haunted look in those bright blue eyes. All the fight immediately leaves Eddie.
He lets the doctors and nurses manhandle him out of his turnout gear, allows them to poke and prod, gives them space to work. All the while he stares at his friend, his partner, his, and sees the tension building in Bucks shoulders. The doctors, satisfied that everything is in place and nothing appears to have been pierced, pat him on the shoulder and leave his side one by one, telling him they’ll be back later to get him bandages and something for the pain. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to argue.
Suddenly they’re alone in the small curtained off ER area, and the silence is deafening. No whining saw, no laboured breathing, no crackling of the radio, no Buck Buck Buck being the only thing to keep him sane through it all.
Buck is the first to break.
‘God, I’m so sorry. Eddie, I shouldn’t have yelled, I don’t know what I was thinking, I…’
Buck starts pacing, frantic energy getting the best of him, and Eddie’s heart aches. Did he do this to Buck? Is this reaction… for him? He reaches out for the younger man, and the moment they touch Buck immediately stills.
‘Hey,’ Eddie croaks. It sounds hoarse and grumbly and painful, even to him. ‘Evan, look at me.’
Worry looks up at him, and the broken ribs are nothing compared to what he feels in his heart right now. It feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest, but he doesn’t think he minds.
‘I’m fine.’
At that, Buck lets out a loud snort that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.
Endearing?
Adorable.
Adorable??
Attractive.
Attractive?!
Eddie stops the train of thought before it can go any further.
‘Fine enough,’ he concedes. ‘Still in one piece. Not going anywhere. See?’
He lifts his hand to Bucks face as if to prove he’s still there, and for a moment he imagines Buck leaning into the touch as his friend’s eyes flutter closed.
They stand like this for a moment, before Buck steps away from his touch. Eddie wants to complain, but frowns instead when Buck sits down next to him on the bed and grabs his shoulders.
‘What are you…’
‘Just let me. Okay? Please?’
Any resolve Eddie might have felt crumbles at the slight snag in Bucks voice. He allows himself to be pulled back into Bucks chest, warm arms surrounding him to keep him supported, head pulled into the crook of a neck. He pretends he doesn’t feel the shudder (it might be a sob?) wrecking through Bucks body. He’s grateful Buck does the same for his sigh of contentment.
They sit like this, back to chest, head to shoulder, heart to heart, until a nurse comes to get Eddie’s ribs dressed. He mourns the loss of contact the moment they stop touching, but he doesn’t lose sight of Buck once. His “I’m fine”s die right on his lips.
That night, when he lays in bed, he listens to the soft snoring of the man laying besides him. No matter how much Eddie’d insisted he’d be alright by himself, that Buck had had a long day as well and needed his rest, that he was just going to go to sleep anyway, Buck had all but forced himself into the Diaz house. He’d made dinner for Christopher, talking about everything under the sun as Eddie looked on from the couch, dozing off occasionally. He’d woken Eddie from his nap, having apparently tucked Christopher into bed already, and basically carried Eddie to his. He’d hesitated once he’d gotten Eddie situated, unsure whether to go or leave, but had been easily convinced by the slightest tug of his arm.
Eddie doesn’t really know what he’s feeling right now. Confusion, mostly. Because this man is his best friend, his confidant, his partner, his… He stops himself right before he can think everything. That is too much. Always too much.
And yet it couldn’t be more true.
Eddie cannot imagine his life without Buck, and the mere thought of it returns the ache in his chest. Christopher cannot lose another parent. Eddie cannot raise him alone. But most of all, he doesn’t want to.
Eddie shifts, trying to get comfortable, and he hisses in pain as he jostles his ribs. Immediately, Buck rolls over and wraps himself around Eddie’s arm, gently, oh so gently, as if even in sleep Buck is watching out for Eddie. Because of course he is. He’s Buck.
Eddie looks down at him fondly, and it’s as if suddenly everything makes sense. As if it never had been confusing in the first place. Because isn’t it obvious? Buck and him. That is the way it should be.
He closes his eyes, pushing away any further thoughts about this revelation and what it might mean. He’ll deal with that later.
No.
Eddie silently corrects himself.
They’ll deal with that later.
He lets out a small sigh, basking in the warmth of another person in his bed. His person. His Buck.
Maybe he is fine after all.