Chapter Text
The warm scent of freshly baked bread and bacon frying on the stove, followed by a friendly hello from Bobby greets Buck as he enters the firehouse, taking his usual spot at the table and paying little mind to the empty chair beside him; the chair usually occupied by Eddie. It is an ungodly hour, and they still have time before their shift is due to start; Buck had arrived with an hour to spare to squeeze in a workout before daybreak, but he is well-aware the rest of his team do not typically care to share in his early morning enthusiasm. Chim sits across from him, head hovering over his cup and willing the coffee fumes to wake him, whilst Hen manages a wave, awake but only just.
Breakfast is served and much-needed coffee is consumed as they wait for the arrival of their colleague. It is only once the clock strikes seven and their shift officially starts that the team allows their minds to drift to the whereabouts of their missing co-worker, not yet too worried but at the very least curious as to his lateness.
“Have you heard from Eddie this morning, Cap?” Buck asks through a mouthful of toast. “I tried calling him, but there was no answer and my texts are still showing as unread.”
“What, no Diaz today?” Chim chimes in. “Is he sick or something?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him either,” Bobby confirms after checking his phone.
“He’s probably stuck in traffic,” Buck suggests. “The road he normally takes is under construction, so he’s probably just running late. I’ll try calling him again, see if he picks up.”
One ring. Two. Three. After what feels like an eternity, the call rings out and goes to voicemail. Hello, this is Eddie Diaz. I’m not able to pick up the phone right now, please leave a message and I’ll call you back.
Strange, Buck muses, and although this is ultimately not enough grounds for concern, he bounces his leg, antsy but not quite worried just yet. Eddie’s phone signal has been patchy lately; LA traffic and a shitty phone connection is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the man’s absence and apparent radio silence. Buck just wishes such an explanation would make itself known sooner rather than later.
The team are not granted the liberty of dwelling on their theories regarding Eddie’s absence, however. As soon as the 118 A-shift officially goes online, the alarms begin to sound and they are bounding to the trucks. Bobby gives them the lowdown on the call during the journey; road traffic collision, three vehicles, 133 already on scene and requesting additional RA units.
It doesn't cross Buck’s mind even once that this RTC and Eddie’s absence this morning could be related, that one of the vehicles could belong to Eddie; not as they pull into the side of the road and climb out of the trucks, not as Bobby confers with the captain of the 133, not even as he scans the scene, assessing the damage to the silver Prius slammed into the side of the shiny black truck now reduced to a folded scrap of metal, which had evidently spun out and clipped the back of the third vehicle.
Buck immediately rushes to the side of the firefighters already working to extract the driver of the Prius, the extra pair of hands being just enough to tug the man free and maneuver him carefully onto the gurney, swiftly being rushed in the direction of the ambulance by Hen and Chimney.
Everything moves so fast, the scene a muddled chaos of firefighters darting back and forth, quelling a potential fire from the third car just in time as the driver and passenger - thankfully seemingly uninjured - are guided in the direction of more paramedics, foil blankets being draped over their arms.
“Where’s the driver of the truck?” Buck takes a moment to catch his breath as he reaches his captain’s side. “Did the 133 get them out already, are they okay?”
Bobby takes a moment to respond, mouth opening and closing in hesitation as his gaze switches focus from Buck to the truck.
The truck.
Eddie’s truck.
“Buck, he’s okay,” Bobby tries. “I spoke with the captain from the 133, he’s-”
“Where is he?” Buck cuts him off.
“He’s with the 133 paramedics now, but he’s alright, he’s-”
Buck is sprinting in the direction of the 133 ambulance before Bobby can catch him, adrenaline surging through his body as he reaches the back of the bus.
“Eddie!” he yells out, clutching onto the gap in the door.
“Buckley?” one of the paramedics - Mitch, if Buck is remembering their name correctly - meets his eye, startled by his voice. “Is that you?”
“Let him in,” the voice of the other paramedic - one that Buck immediately recognizes as Dave, who was present at the scene of the shooting all those years ago, back when Captain Mehta was still captain of the 133 - interjects. “Diaz is-”
Eddie - blood soaked and already bruising - is strapped on the gurney, in a full cervical collar and for a moment Buck can’t catch his breath.
“I’m fine, Buck.”
It is only at the sound of this familiar voice that he finally lets himself breathe.
“He’s one lucky guy,” Dave continues. “As you can see, he’s awake, he’s talking, vitals look solid. He was actually trying to get out and help us when we got on the scene; too bad he was trapped. We’ve got him immobilized just to be safe and they’ll do a CT at the hospital, but he’s probably got away with nothing more than a few new battle scars and a couple of weeks off work.”
“I’m good,” Eddie adds for good measure. “Promise.”
“Just uh, stay that way, okay?” Buck clears his throat, entirely unconvinced.
“Buck.”
“Your truck is-” he gasps, picturing the scrap of metal that used to be Eddie’s truck outside. “It’s… Destroyed, it’s-”
“And I’m not,” Eddie waves his hand, although Mitch swiftly stills him, distracted in their effort to insert a line.
Buck just stares at him, willing himself to believe him but not able to be fully convinced when Eddie is lying there, unable to move and covered in so much goddamn blood it’s almost as if he can taste it in the air.
He senses a disturbance, voices suddenly rising outside of the ambulance; something at the scene has changed, possibly fire or the discovery of another passenger. Bobby calls for him on the radio, asking if he’s able to rejoin them; they need more hands on deck.
“Go,” Eddie smirks as he catches sight of Buck standing there, unwavering from his spot. “Seriously, I’m fine; I’m in good hands. I’ll catch up with you guys at the hospital, okay?”
“Presbyterian?” Buck confirms.
“Presbyterian,” Dave nods.
Buck leaves the ambulance in body, but not quite in mind even as he watches them drive off. He finds himself unable to look at the wreckage, focusing instead on the situation at hand; another passenger found pinned underneath the Prius, and deteriorating fast. Even as he reaches his team’s side, all he can think of is Eddie, and all he can do is keep reminding himself that he’s okay. He’s alive.
It’s a difficult task, but with more hands they manage to get the girl out, her vitals swiftly recovering now there isn’t a half-ton of metal crushing her chest as she is rushed to another ambulance which has arrived on scene.
Once the scene has been secured, the 118 are given the all-clear to go. Bobby is already on the line with dispatch as he climbs into the captain’s chair, advising that the 118 are to be taken offline for the foreseeable, before the truck is heading in the direction of Presbyterian Hospital.
And then, after what feels like an eternity even though Buck can barely recall the journey, a waiting room. Buck situates himself on a chair facing the door, eyes trained on every nurse or doctor that walks past. He knows Eddie is fine, saw him with his own eyes and confirmed it but he won’t let himself believe it until it is certain. Bobby disappears for a moment in search of coffee, and returns with Hen and Chim in tow.
“Have you heard anything about Eddie?” Buck immediately snaps his head up. “Is he okay?”
“He um,” Hen hesitates, taking a seat beside Buck.
Something deep inside of Buck’s chest sinks. It’s like he’s about to throw up, like his lungs are about to explode, like his heart is about to stop -
He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.
And then Hen’s hand is steady as she places it against his. He exhales in time with her, fixating his eyes on hers, desperate to gleam at least an ounce of information.
“Hey, he’s okay,” she lulls. “Before you get too worried, he’s okay.”
“We ran into the paramedics from the 133 on the way in,” Chim remains standing, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “They said Eddie took a bit of a turn when they were transporting him here.”
“A turn?” Buck furrows his brow. “What the fuck does that mean, Chim? What happened? Is he-”
“Hey,” Hen whispers. “Slow down. They’re taking him down for a head CT and-”
“A head injury?”
“He was throwing up and then he-”
“He what? What happened?”
“His oxygen sats dropped,” Chim confirms.
“What?” Buck asks, confused. “W-why?”
“Broken ribs caused a pneumothorax, they think.”
Buck fights against the hands that are on him, holding him back from rushing down the hall to find him, to see for himself that Eddie is okay.
“Hey, slow down,” Hen tries, but Buck is tense beneath her hand. “They got him stabilized, and they’re probably inserting a chest drain as we speak and-”
He manages to rise from his chair, but Bobby stops him before he can reach the door.
“He’s going to be okay, Buck,” Bobby states firmly. “He’s going to be okay.”
He doesn’t let himself believe it. The grave expression on Chimney’s face and the goddamn way that Hen is looking at him is enough to send panic surging through him again and he would bolt for the door if he knew where he was running to; if he knew where he would be able to find Eddie.
“Evan Buckley?” an unfamiliar voice is the thing that pulls him out of his panic as the resident on call appears at the door.
“Yeah, um, that’s me,” he stands upright, trying to steady his voice. “Eddie… my friend Eddie, he-”
“Edmundo Diaz, off-duty firefighter with the 118,” Bobby reaches Buck’s side. “He was brought here after the road traffic collision on-”
“Is he-”
“Your friend is okay,” the doctor states carefully, a small smile passing her lips as she notices that Buck is not reassured by this news.
She pauses for a moment. Bobby grasps Buck’s shoulder, easing him to sit down as the doctor takes a seat beside him and explains the situation so far. Eddie’s CT scans are clear, with no sign of any spinal injury or any brain injury more severe than a concussion and the paramedics were correct in their diagnosis of a pneumothorax sustained as a result of his fractured ribs.
“I can take you to see him now,” she confirms. “We’ve got him settled on the ward, and he’ll likely be admitted for at least a couple of days whilst he recovers. He’s one lucky guy.”
“I know,” Buck whispers, still trying to convince himself to let himself believe it. “I know.”
Not long after, they are allowed to see him. Buck leads the way, following the doctor in step as they head in the direction of the ward. Eddie is seemingly asleep when they arrive at the room, and Buck’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to the puckered stitches above Eddie’s brow and smattering of bruises mapped over the right side of Eddie’s face, his ears so tuned to the slow drip-drip-drip of the chest drain he barely processes a word that the nurse says as he fills them in on the situation.
But asleep Eddie is not. Buck’s voice tethers him back to consciousness as he reaches out, his hand enveloped by the Tegaderm fixing the IV into his vein.
“Christopher?” he rasps, wincing as the small effort of talking proves too much. “Where… Chris?”
“He’s okay, Eddie,” Buck catches Eddie’s hand before gravity wins out, carefully lowering his arm back down onto the bed. “Christopher’s okay. He’s in Texas, remember? He’s safe. He’s with your parents.”
“You’re in the hospital,” Bobby says from behind Buck. “You’re hurt, but you’re going to be okay.”
“Don’t want…. See me like this…” Eddie fights against the morphine as he blinks, eyelids heavy.
“Hey, you’re okay,” Buck whispers. “We can call him later, when you’re feeling better, okay? You’re alright. You’re okay, Eddie. You’re okay.”
The break in Buck’s voice gives away the fact that he is convincing himself just as much as he is trying to convince Eddie. You’re alright. You’re okay, Eddie. You’re okay. This is the refrain that comforts Eddie as consciousness begins to release its grasp again, replaced by the morphine humming through his veins.