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Eddie remembers the first time he went to therapy, sitting stone faced across from a therapist who was poking at the tender parts under his flesh, making him feel exposed & itching to launch himself out of the door before the session was even half over. He doesn't remember much from that session other than the feelings. The raw emotion dredged up, sitting like bile just at the back of his throat; the taste stinging well into the rest of his day.
The soft hum of the white noise machine drowned out the world just outside the door as the therapist stared at Eddie over her glasses & asked him to explain why he was seeking out professional help. The answer, still one he hadn't thought of himself other than “I just got back from overseas & I was told I should,” was accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.
But he also remembers the test & looking at ink blots for what felt like an eternity, trying to piece together something that wouldn't make him sound absolutely insane to the professional across from him in the stale office air. At the time he thought it was ridiculous. After all, what could anyone tell from some ink on paper?
If you were to ask Eddie now how his mind functions, well he'd probably say it's a lot like that… ink blots on cards, looking truly like nothing, tangled & out of control. Black splotches on stark white cards hiding the truth from the viewer. That's how he functioned since returning from active duty, pushing everything into one big messy pile & pulling at threads here or there when needed, but otherwise letting it all flow together into one, very large, mess.
So maybe that's how Eddie ends up in a wildly codependent relationship with his co-worker turned best friend. Maybe that's why he can't think about why he'd give his son's custody over to that person or why seeing him fall asleep on the couch elicits the feeling akin to a stomach ache. Because Eddie can't take time to think about those feelings too hard…it's all just still hidden beneath the black inky blots mapping his brain.
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Christopher is the easiest ink blot in his life that he sees clearly. Because Christopher is good & kind & loving in a way Eddie thinks he can't possibly be the reason for. He's been raising his child as a single dad for years now, but there's still something about him that Eddie thinks isn't a part of himself or even Shannon. The innate goodness that the teenage years still haven't tainted is as prevalent as ever no matter what is going on in either of their lives.
Christopher is selfless & full of love. So, it takes Eddie less than no time to pull that card out of his brain & make sense of it. Because Christopher is his & he's Christopher's. There's nothing that can come between them & there's nothing that Eddie would let ever come between them.
Maybe that's why it's so easy for Eddie to hand his son's life over to Buck at literally any point. He told the other man once that no one would fight as hard for Chris as Buck would. And that's something Eddie would never take back. Because he sees it everyday, the tender love & affection between the two of them. Sometimes it's as if his best friend is using himself to bubble wrap all the delicate & fragile parts of Eddie's life so he doesn't have to worry about it shattering on the floor.
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Being shot in the middle of the street in LA was never something Eddie worried about. The concrete jungle of a city never brought out the feelings in him that El Paso had regarding his past. LA had always felt safe & inviting, a place Eddie could rest easy & know that he'd be able to go home every night. Of course there were dangerous, life threatening days. Eddie knows that better than anyone, even sometimes better than the other members of the 118. But, the type of danger he found himself in was never the type he was running from when he left the military…until it was.
He remembers once telling Buck “we do the same thing, I've just done it while people are shooting at me.” He had meant it light-hearted & joking, an attempt at banter. He hadn't meant to tempt the universe or fate or whatever into that agonizing moment as shots rang out.
Truthfully, Eddie couldn't say that he actually remembers much from that day. He remembers standing there in the bright California sun before a loud bang & then it just all goes black. He vaguely remembers the ambulance, gasping to breathe & asking Buck if he was hurt. It only occurred to him later when he was home recovering that Buck wasn't covered in blood because he was hurt…he was covered in Eddie's own blood. And if that doesn't hit him square in the chest with an amount of weight he just doesn't know what to do with.
He wasn't ready to deal with that just yet. So he took that card & shuffled it back in with the rest, the ink blot fuzzy at the edges & slowly reaching out to entwine with the other blots in the pile.
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There's other cards in the pile that aren't hard for Eddie to decipher. Chim & Hen, for example, are like siblings to him. They make fun of each other, banter, & just overall take care of each other. Eddie knows that if all else fails his chosen family will be there to pick him up. So, those ink blots are easy. He knows where each of these people fit into his life & he has no issues filing them each away into a space he's aware of.
Some of the cards are a little more difficult. The relationship with his parents had never been easy, but the move to LA had taken something that was carefully balanced & tipped it over. It felt like glass shards scattered across hot concrete in the El Paso sunshine. No matter how carefully you try to pick up all those pieces to put them back together, you end up with burnt & bleeding hands.
He's forced to truly look at that card after the shooting. Pepa has them all on the phone, & there's overlapping voices all telling him what to do, where to go, how to recover. He can ignore it until his mom speaks up, says into the phone that she'd move Christopher back to Texas with family if anything ever happened. She said she wanted him to be safe & cared for properly. Properly in a way she doesn’t believe he can be cared for if he stays in LA. Some days it feels as if she doesn’t even believe Eddie himself can care for his son as he is. But, it’s the way that she says “properly” that breaks through Eddie's carefully constructed veneer he keeps up with the family.
“Buck gets Chris,” he remembers saying. It was never something he planned to bring up with his family. He figured that he'd never need to & if the worst happened; well Bobby & Athena wouldn't let Buck lose Christopher to anyone else. The three of them would make sure that Eddie’s wishes were honored, even if it meant fighting his family for it.
There was silence that felt stretched into minutes before he finally found enough of his voice to continue. “I changed it after the incident with the well rescue. If anything happens I want Chris to be taken care of & loved the same way I do. I think Buck is the right choice for that.”
The fight after the reveal is something Eddie pushed down & filed away with no interest in revisiting it again.
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A flash, a bang, & then cold unending terror.
If Eddie didn't remember anything about being shot, when Buck is struck by lightning it's the exact opposite. He remembers every single moment of those agonizing 3 minutes & 17 seconds. In fact, he seems to be the only person who remembers (or cares) about the exact amount of time Buck spent lifeless on a gurney beneath Eddie’s hands.
He remembers the hospital, sitting in a plastic chair sagging under the weight of both himself & Christopher as he attempted to hold it together. Because Eddie wasn't allowed to fall apart. He had to stand there, stoic & unmoving as the rest of the world fell apart around him. Because Maddie was allowed to cry & scream & exist in a bubble of grief if she wanted. That was her little brother lying in a hospital bed that made him look far too small & child-like. He was a son to Bobby, a brother to Chim…To Eddie he was– well..he wasn't actually anything was he? Best friend, second parent to his son, co-worker? Was there even a category he could actually fit Buck into that made sense or felt right?
“I can't do this without you. I don't know how to,” he remembers whispering into a silent room, allowing tears to run only after everyone else had left. Eddie kept vigil alone in what he could only assume was the same way Buck had after the shooting. In the darkness, refusing to leave even after the medical staff tried to unsuccessfully kick him out after visiting hours had ended.
Like with everything else in his life, he pulls out the ink blot. It looks clearer now, taking shape in a way that Eddie is almost fearful to think about. So he doesn't. He sticks it back into the pile with all the other cards that are starting to clear up but are neatly banded together with a neon “do not touch” sign slapped to the front.
He waits until he & Carla sneak Chris into the ICU to really lose it. There's something about watching his son all open grief & tenderness as he lays a hand on Buck's arm tentatively & talks to him. His son who had already lost so much & experienced too much trauma in his young life. Yet, he stood there with dry eyes & even voice as he asked for Buck to wake up & keep living, keep staying. To keep picking him.
He only realizes that he’s crying when he wipes away the dampness from his cheeks & steps into the hallway. He doesn't want Chris to see him cry, to see him hitting that level of weakness.
That's how Maddie finds him, leaned against a wall, eyes closed, & salty tears burning the chapped lips he's chewed beyond repair the last several days. She embraced him in the same way he's seen her do to her own brother a hundred times, letting him bury his face into her shoulder & sob.
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There's a fight when Buck says he doesn't want to take more time & has decided to go back to work as soon as possible. He tells them all while at Bobby's house for a cookout. He tells them with a strong voice that he feels ready to go back in the field & is excited even to see how they repaired the truck after the strike.
Eddie sits there, beer halfway to his mouth, when he hears Buck say he's coming back. Eddie knew how bad of shape Buck was really in. He was the one who couldn't find a pulse, who felt ribs break under his hands, & who brought him back. His own two hands helped Buck's heart to beat again & somehow that makes him feel responsible for it.
Buck is standing there wide eyes & heavy breathing as Eddie steps up to him. He's vaguely aware of Athena yelling at Buck & Hen asking rapid fire health questions. But, as he stands there, staring at his best friend, he really can't be bothered to listen to any of them.
He reaches a hand out, placing it over Buck's heart & closes his eyes for a moment, just feeling. When he opens his eyes he feels the sharp intake of breath from the chest under his fingers as Buck is yanked away from him by a chastising older sister.
It would take hours for him to stop feeling the heartbeat under his hand, a reminder that Buck had survived & was really actually there with them all. And if he feels like maybe he's the reason Buck says that he's going to take a few more weeks off, then that's between him & the universe.
—-------------------
Eddie gets together with Marisol, & then they break up. Well, first he finds out she was a nun & that fucks with his head too much. They try to make it work. Once again, he's finding himself in an unfulfilling relationship for the sake of his son. It wasn't that they broke up in a super explosive way, but when Christopher looked into his eyes & said “I don't want a new mom. I'm happy the way things are.” Well, that's what ends the relationship for him. Chris may love Marisol but not enough to keep her in their lives. Especially when Buck was right there, ready to swoop in & provide the care & companionship that the teenager needed.
Then Tommy happens. It makes Eddie's head spin with exactly how fast it happens, the 0 to 60 of it all. He feels like he has almost less than no time to process what Buck is telling him when he states in nervous anticipation, “it was a date.” He told Buck it didn't change anything…and it didn't. Except…maybe it actually did, but not in the way he could have expected. Because suddenly that simmering protectiveness & tenderness that had always been there sitting just under the surface could be summed up in a single word: jealousy.
The breakups for both of them followed a natural pattern, much like they always did. He broke up with Marisol & then Tommy ended things with Buck, but he didn't tell Eddie why. It was a quick thing. Much like the whole relationship had been, it happened fast & Eddie found himself barely able to catch his breath from the suddenness of it all.
Eddie would love to look back on this moment & say he handled the situation with class & maturity, helping his best friend through a sudden & unexplainable breakup. But, since he had figured out the dull thumping in his chest was aching jealousy…maybe he was a little too excited about the breakup & that possibly made him feel like an awful friend when he could examine it all more closely under the cover of lonely darkness.
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He takes the ink blot out from under the neon sign for one final time on a humid summer night. It's hot & sticky, the dampness in the air clinging to every inch of exposed skin, causing wet spots on his T-shirt. He's sitting with Buck on the porch, away from the prying eyes & ears of his teenage son who should be asleep but definitely isn't. Which is why, despite the heat, they sit together, on the porch step, shoulders touching but barely.
Eddie is sitting there, the fading sun just dipping below the horizon, dull ache in his chest behind his ribs & he just knows. He looks over at his best friend, a true second parent to his child & he sees it. He sees it clearly for the first time, the ink blot edges fuzzing out & a clear image coming into view.
He feels his entire being shift, the earth feeling suddenly like it's spinning too fast & if he looks away from Buck for even one moment that he'll be thrown away into nothingness. For the first time he truly wants. He allows himself to want & to think. He allows himself to imagine it, & God, that makes the hair on his arms stand up & a warmth fizz under his skin
That's how it happens, under the warm lights of his porch, the too hot California air around them. He leans in just a little too far, just a little too close to be fully platonic. Buck lets him. He moves his hand a little higher than normal, fingertips skimming over jawline. Buck lets him again. When his lips brush over the others, barely a press but enough to get the point across; to express the finality of what he wants. Well…Buck lets him do that too.