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After chasing for what felt like the world for somewhere that Buck could belong, Los Angeles had held the most promise.
Still continues to, considering that Buck’s been living here for over two years now, and while there have been a few incidents—like the frat house’s kitchen getting scorched and work incidents that went unnoticed while they were inside an already-burning building—it’s not like Buck has been chased out with pitchforks.
Even when Buck pushed Bobby to his limits. Even when he drove Chim and Hen insane.
Even when—
Okay, so with Abby, she was the one who left rather than chasing Buck out. But it wasn’t anything to do with Buck. He has to keep reminding himself that, though it’s intermittent now, rather than reoccurring thoughts.
Like when he steps into a coffee house for a shot of caffeine and remembers he bought Abby here once. And a restaurant down the road, and the park that he sometimes swings through when he can’t sleep and decides to run around the blocks a few times.
Either way, Buck is still here, in Los Angeles, while Abby is finding herself out there. Buck gets it. He was kind of doing the same thing when he was bouncing between cities and states and countries.
But Los Angeles is starting to feel like Home in a way that Pennsylvania never did.
There are some familiarities; like how empty his loft apartment is when it’s just him and that the silence is always so loud, but the Thai on the corner does padthai just like he remembers it. He has a balcony that lets him sit under the stars rather than needing to climb up on the roof, but there are too many windows overlooking his space meaning Buck always has to bring out a coat when it gets too cold instead of rubbing his hands together and sparking a little flame between the palms of his hands.
It’s a small sacrifice to pay to be able to live in a place long enough he’s been able to put down roots.
Fire Benders have a reputation. It’s not like there is a separate registry for them, it all goes in the same paperwork as blood type, sex, date of birth, but there are stereotypes and prejudices and already-made-up-minds that have shown Buck countless times that what he is always seems to smother who he is.
And sure, Buck can get a little heated at times, but everyone gets angry and everyone gets frustrated.
Like Bobby for example. He has Earth-bending roots (without the actual bending) and Buck managed to push him to the point that he shoved Buck up against a wall. But Earth Benders are meant to be grounded, calm, peaceful. They’re meant to be wise and level-headed and confident, which isn’t to say that Bobby is not. He’s just also Human.
And Buck is Human.
Who just happens to be a Fire Bender, who can conjure flames and control them; who never has to fear the burn of flames or the heat of smoke in his lungs.
Bobby knows. He kind of has to, being the Captain and all, but he’s had enough world experience to not judge when Buck’s papers came across his desk, and he’s honoured Buck’s desire to keep his secret, even if he’s fully convinced the other firefighters won’t change their judgement of him.
Athena knows too, and Buck had been terrified when she’d confronted him armed with that knowledge, and yet she’d been focused on lecturing him about this stupid behaviour and mentioned nothing about his bending or his bloodline. Turns out she’s a Fire Bender herself alongside her father while neither of them actively pursued the knowledge or power it granted them.
And according to Bobby, her mother is the most hot-blooded Earth Bender he’s ever met, so it’s not like Athena has ever been able to believe stereotypes either.
Carla has an inkling; but Buck is sure she doesn’t know for a fact. At the very least, she’s guessed Buck’s bloodline, but not the fact he can actually shape the flames he runs through every day, but she’s never pushed, nor pried, and Buck covets that respect as much as their friendship with so much fondness and is still thankful that Abby gave them the chance of friendship.
So, it kind of makes sense when Buck stumbles his way off of his most recent twenty-four-hour shift and instead of dragging himself back to his too-empty apartment, he’s coaxing Carla to meet him for an early lunch, her favourite Italian, his treat. And maybe he doesn’t do a good job at keeping his texts plain—more plaintive—because Carla is quick to agree, and then she’s rocking up to the table while he’s nursing his second coke and goes immediately into worry-mode.
“I’m fine,” Buck says for what feels like the fifth time when she’s sat opposite him, and the waiter has brought them both their pasta. Carla cocks her head and pulls a telling face. She glances at the booth that he’s got them, instead of a small table which suggests to her that Buck wants to talk with a little a medium of privacy. And the last time they came here was when Buck let her know he was moving out of Abby’s apartment.
“So…?”
Buck sighed over his carbonara. “So. Eddie.”
“The probationary firefighter. You’ve mentioned him a few times.”
Buck nods, his eyes glued to his plate as he twirls the pasta, mulling over his words, knowing he’s brought up Eddie a few times with Carla and Maddie and whoever will listen to him long enough to talk about his new friend. Colleague. Work-partner. Hen and Chim call them work-rivals. They don’t even know the half of it.
“It’s been a few weeks working with him and—he’s not bad, he’s actually really good. At his job. And as a person,” Buck starts and deliberately doesn’t think about what he’s saying as he unloads everything that’s been knocking around inside his head since he saw Eddie clean up a spilt glass with nothing more than a flick of his wrist and a casual laugh because, “sorry, sorry, I forget it’s not common, but it’s just, second nature. I can’t count how many times I’ve accidentally knocked over a glass, or Chris has deliberately spilled something just to get me to—if it’s a problem I can stop.”
“We clicked, so quick. And I can read him so easy I know what he’s going to suggest before we do it,” Buck says, thinking back to the grenade in the ambulance and the earthquake that saw him and Eddie in a high-rise, knowing better than to actually fill Carla in on those missing details because she’d just worry needlessly.
“He was an Army Medic, so he’s steady under pressure, and he actually listens to me when I make suggestions,” and while Chim and Hen and Cap do too, it’s different somehow with Eddie, “and he’s got an adorable kid and he’s….”
Buck stabs at his food. He doesn’t really feel hungry, but he’s just got off of a twenty-four hour shift so he needs the carbs, and he needs solid sleep so that he’s ready to go again for his next shift.
Carla puts down her own fork, having made headway with her plate while Buck’s been rambling. “I’m not hearing a problem here, Buckaroo. Sounds like you’ve managed to find yourself a good friend you can work with.”
Buck hums. Lifts his eyes.
“He’s a Water Bender.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh.
And it’s not like there are rules that says Buck has to hate Eddie because he’s a Fire Bender and Eddie is a Water Bender, and Eddie isn’t just a bender, he’s fucking amazing. Buck has watched him manipulate water several times, from clearing the side and floor in the kitchen after doing dishes to throwing handfuls of water at him when they were cleaning the truck and each time he’s amazed by his control; the fluidity of the water that seems to dance in the air and jump in perfect arcs whenever Bobby’s back is turned.
It’s beautiful and heartbreaking to watch the way that Eddie can have fun with his bending; how he draws people into him, how he calms young children and reassures something in terrified adults because a Firefighter that can manipulate water….
Well.
“At first, I was worried that Cap was replacing me. Like, a water-bending firefighter. It makes sense.”
So much so that Buck knows why every other firehouse passed him over even though they never gave the actual reason. He’s had to put out enough arson-fires since his probie days that he’s already intimately familiar with the expectations of his bloodline.
“But Cap said he wanted a partner for me,” Buck continues, not bothering to make the same jokes he had with Bobby, like how it sounded like Bobby was trying to play matchmaker and that it was cute his Pops was worried for him, but Buck’s love-life is well under control. “He wanted to find someone I could work with, and me and Eddie have become friends now and it’s been weeks and—”
“You’re not sure if you should tell him,” Carla says kindly.
Buck’s shoulders sag. “I don’t think he’d hate me because of what I am,” he says, and though his words are a near enough a whisper, and the restaurant is busy enough with other patrons they couldn’t be overheard, Buck knows secrets are safer unspoken, “but I can’t shake that fear. And I don’t know who Bobby would pick to stick around if things got… out of hand.”
Because that’s what it keeps coming back to.
Buck has carved out a life for himself, here in Los Angeles and it’s not perfect but it’s his and he’s terrified to lose any part of that.
Including the budding friendship with Eddie. The way he always has his back even though it’s barely been a few weeks and yet Eddie doesn’t get bored with Buck’s rants and is a willing taste-tester when Buck stress-cooks at three in the morning when he can’t sleep; who welcomes him into his home and hadn’t hesitated in the slightest when Buck offered to drop Chris off to school when Eddie couldn’t book any other time with a home-care interview.
It’s been weeks and Buck knows enough about Eddie he can gauge his mood by the way he walks or the way he sits; knows what a rushed morning looks like when Eddie heads for the coffee machine before greeting anyone save for Buck—and sometimes Cap, because he was Army and respect means a lot to him—and in return he’s always being invited into conversation when he’s thinking too much, or Eddie is bumping his shoulder at the end of shift when Buck doesn’t want to go home and cook for one and it’s either pizza or takeaway or Chris his sous-chef and something easy in the oven by the time they collapse on the sofa to finish let it cooking.
Buck doesn’t know how Eddie would react.
He’s lost people before, because they’ve learnt his secret, and it’s been a continued theme all throughout his life that he learnt he had to keep it a secret. But there had still been incidents and he’d been chased away until he’d learnt not to get attached, not to stick around too long.
Los Angeles is different.
Los Angeles is meant to be different.
“You’re unsure. That’s fair,” Carla says, and she’s kind enough to watch her own lunch while Buck digs into his own, ignoring that it’s not as warm as he’d like. Still. Carbs are good.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, you’ve got to figure that out for yourself,” Carla continues, which is understandable even if it sucks because Buck wants help, not more questions, but he also recognises that Carla is right. “But you’re worried about what Eddie thinks of Fire Benders. Maybe that’s something to talk about. That way you have a clearer idea, and it might give you some answers, or maybe something else to think about.”
As if Buck doesn’t already have too much to think about.
But it’s sound advice and Buck thanks Carla profusely. He has to fight to pay the full bill—he said he would, he invited her out here and interrupted her day so he should at least foot the bill—and Carla hugs him twice before she lets him head to his jeep with a promise that he’ll keep her updated on life, not just Eddie and the firehouse and all the danger he willingly puts himself in. Buck promises, because it’s Carla, and he doesn’t have too many friends that have willingly stuck around once they’ve learnt his true nature. He’s scared to learn which side of the line Eddie will fall, but learning a little more about what he might think is easier than outright revealing everything he’s kept close to his chest ever since he fled Pennsylvania.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
They’d talked, the conversation coming up several times, between shifts and during, and Buck was pretty sure he’d done a decent job of slyly directing the conversation to gauge if Eddie was the kind of guy who’d have preconceived notions about other Benders. Turns out the Army was like twenty years of life experience compressed into five, because Eddie is pretty open minded about the whole thing and he’d said something similar to Buck’s own understanding—that Benders are more than the element they control—but he also has a completely different experience and recognises that where he’s compared himself to Greggs, his army buddy who was an Air Bender, and others they’d worked alongside while in uniform.
And yes, they’d talked, and yes Buck was reassured that when he—eventually—told Eddie his own secrets it wouldn’t be as large of a disaster as he was expecting.
Instead it’s something else entirely.
They’re at a five-alarm fire, the largest structure fire that Buck has ever seen or been a part of, even including his probie days. It’s The Beaudry—a high-rise that is entirely made up of apartments, suite homes and rental properties meaning it’s very difficult to get a count on who is in the building and who isn’t. Sixty-four floors of luxury apartments, building maintenance and staff although luckily enough it’s only five or six floors that are currently ablaze. Still.
They’re twenty floors up meaning anyone above the fire are cut off and the ladders aren’t going to get high enough for an evacuation or even to get firefighters in so that they can direct the civilians away from the danger. Well, Buck can get in and past the flames, but if he does it’s going to raise a lot of questions, and he’s had this argument with Bobby enough times before that he only needs to give his captain a look and Bobby is directing him to the teams of firefighters that are currently trying to target smaller fires that have started from falling debris.
It’s Eddie who follows.
Not too long, they’re both sweating from the heat, and there’s dirt and smoke smeared across his face but he flashes Buck a grin and it doesn’t feel as helpless as it maybe should considering the flames and the chaos echoing out over their radios and the slow dwindling count of residents and personnel still unaccounted for. But Buck has his partner and soon enough they’ve got a hose between them as they try and get the water to catch the flames burning a few storeys above while others pump water up the ladders and up to billowing flames.
It’s hard, because the intensity of the fire is making most of the water evaporate before it reaches, and the rest isn’t getting high enough to make a decent dent in the inferno, and Captain Mehta as Incident Commander is scrambling to conduct all the houses that have converged to try and tame the fire and protect the people of the city.
A call comes over the radio about trapped people in the stairwell between the floors that are currently enveloped in flames, and Buck doesn’t think twice when he keys his radio, Bobby’s name spoken like a plea—
“No Buck. Stay on the hose. No one can make entry to the upper floors until we get the fire under control.”
“Cap—”
“We’ve got the first few floors clear. Moving to the sixth floor now,” comes the voices of the other team that have been granted entry and Buck wants to curse because he would be safe inside. But the hand on his shoulder tells him he wouldn’t be the only one rushing into that building and he wouldn’t be the only one pushing up into flame-choked halls and Buck doesn’t mind throwing himself to the fire, but he won’t do the same to Eddie.
Even if Eddie would follow him willingly.
“This water isn’t reaching,” Eddie says, after what feels like too long of spraying water and making no real dent in the inferno that is steadily climbing the high-rise towards the upper floors and still trapped people. He looks like he’s debating something, and Buck isn’t sure if he’s about to radio Bobby with his own suggestions, but instead his hand is on Buck’s hip—his shoulder too far—and taps his fingers in the same pattern that they use on rope rescues.
“Hold the hose tighter, Buck. I’m going to try something.”
It’s the only real warning Buck gets, but the hand movement is more than enough to tell him Eddie’s thoughts; Eddie snagging his gloves with his teeth to pull them off and shrugging off his turnouts because they limit his movements and he doesn’t need them right now; hands sweeping into a motion that Buck knows all too well.
Except it’s larger now, not just a flick of the wrists or beckoning fingers and Buck watches as Eddie drags power into the palms of his hands and suddenly the water pumping out of Buck’s hose snaps with enough power it almost lifts him clear off the ground. His arc flies higher and with far more power that it actually manages to reach the flames and Buck can’t help but let out a whoop of victory. He shines bright, throwing a grin at Eddie who throws it right back continuing to move and manipulate the water that surrounds him and throwing it back at the building.
Water that falls back to the pavement and all the evaporated water surrounding Eddie twists and snakes, building itself as it joins the water pumping out of the hose making the jet even stronger. Buck’s smile grows impossibly stronger, and he gets an idea—maybe a stupid idea—and he throws a look to Eddie, wanting to ask before he assumes, but Eddies knows him as well as Buck knows Eddie and its all he needs for Eddie to nod—
“Everyone! Direct your hoses towards Firefighter Diaz,” Buck yells into his radio, head twisted down as he tries to use his radio while also battling to hold onto a hose pressurised far more than it should ever be able to manage.
“Firefighter Buckley, what are you—”
“Eddie’s got this. Trust us.”
Someone does. Buck doesn’t know who, doesn’t see who turns their hose first, but there is another stream joining his jet and then another, and another and Eddie keeps manipulating the water never mind his brow beaded with sweat the sheer exertion he’s placing upon himself to manipulate all the water high enough it is able to rain down upon the upper floors, bathing the fire and managing to finally dampen it’s size to something that should soon allow another firehouse to climb the stairwell and make it to the other people still trapped above.
Over the radio, people are already beginning to move further up, with reports of somewhat-clear paths. It’s a good thing, because Buck can see the strain Eddie is putting on himself; the effort he’s having to give just to get the water to jump so high, and it won’t be long now until they’ll be able to switch tactics and Eddie can breathe—
Screeching, creaking metal tears through the sky like an agonised scream; the building itself crying out for help, or a warning, or something, and Buck watches in horror as the front begins to fall away, both from fire damage and the weight of water; metal frames that once held fast to floor-to-ceiling windows and more of the building’s structure falling away from the high-rise. Too much begins to tumble down and Buck is already yelling Eddie’s name before he’s even checked to see if Eddie is standing in the way—
Not, not standing in the way, Eddie’s already moving, using the water he’s controlling to snake around him to lift him and throw himself forwards, towards Buck. He stumbles himself where the water in the hose is no longer being strengthened by Eddie’s bending, but he keeps the hose directed towards the fire, throwing a half-glance to where Eddie lands, pushing himself up to his knees—
“Buckley, Diaz, MOVE!”
Something ignites—something crushed, under pressure, forced into combustion and explosion—and Buck barely has the time to look back towards the high-rise before he registers the sudden rush of heat even through his turnout as he’s met with the sight of rushing flames and sparks reaching out towards him.
Buck doesn’t think.
Can’t think.
Doesn’t have a chance to think.
Buck throws aside the still-arcing hose and holds his hands out wide, reaching outwards with the power he always keeps locked behind his ribcage; feels the roar of energy as his strength bleeds into the fire that races to embrace him and beyond—
Buck won’t allow it. He knows where Eddie is, still on his knees; hears his name screamed in panic but Buck can’t look back when the fire rushes forwards and he manages to snag control and draws it all towards him instead of anyone else. It explodes outwards again, trying to buck against the control he holds over it, twisting it over itself and back again, drawing the flames around himself into curling shapes and twisting arcs of red-orange-yellow-gold. The air is heated and what sweat had soaked Buck’s body evaporates as the inferno drapes around him; a living, breathing creature that twists and curls and rubs up against Buck’s skin, dragging heat-scorched nails through his hair, over his clothes, across his skin.
He can hear his name yelled-screamed-begged. But Buck can’t risk getting distracted when it’s not just Eddie standing too close to the fire, but all the other firefighters that were called to battle this monster. He tries not to think about how they can all see him for what he is as he snaps his hands through the air in fluid movement, knowing he’s not as fluid or graceful as Eddie—can’t be, Eddie is a Water Bender and Buck was born with fire in his blood that burns burnsburnsburns—
Buck strains as another explosion rocks the other floors, sending more rubble and twisted metal cascading down, and he’s really not thinking as he steps towards the danger, bending the fire to stay close as he does, wrapping around him until he is the core of the sphere; the heart of the inferno that blazes and snakes and sparks where it tries to lash out at the world around them.
Buck won’t allow it.
It is stronger than any fire he’s tried to command before but he keeps his grip tight and although his strength isn’t endless he keeps crushing it down, keeps the burning flames close, keeps dragging the fire from the building to join his slowly-growing sphere to give the other firefighters time while trying to suffocate a creature that resists his smothering. It lashes out at him, snagging his turnouts, biting at his skin. His arms are exposed to the heat of the air around him as his clothes begin to crispen and melt and vanish; the air in his lungs not quite choking but the fire is stealing all of the oxygen that there’s not much left for Buck, but still he keeps fighting—doesn’t think about how the yelling has gone silent, doesn’t think about the radio silence, doesn’t think about what he must look like to everyone around him as he tries to force his hands together, trying to crush the fire into something smaller, something contained—screaming himself as his arms burn and his bones ache and still the fire fights him.
The flames are white now, as they twist and spit in place; brushing up against Buck fierce enough that they’re trying to knock his balance, trying to escape his control but Buck won’t allow it and demands the inferno to bend to his will. He’s a Fire Bender, for fuck’s sake, whether he wants to be or not. He’s a firefighter who can control fire and he refuses to let the flames out of his grasp and endanger anyone he cares about, even if they’ll hate him for it, and with one final effort Buck snaps his wrists and all the heat that surrounds him is snuffed out.
Everything hurts.
Buck looks down at himself; at bare arms and clawed hands that are stiff and shaking, like his whole body has been set to vibrate and he doesn’t know how to stop it. His skin is fiercely red in places, burned in others; patches of blistered skin and burnt flesh patched across his arms and hands, and thighs. His turnouts are destroyed, his shirt and pants clinging to him in frayed stretches of fabric, and if this were any other situation Buck might feel a little embarrassed, but he’s still trying to get his hands to stop shaking, and he can’t hear much more above the rushing in his ears which could be blood or maybe the hoses that are still on, still trying to fight the fire Buck couldn’t grapple.
Buck should help.
He just needs to get his hands to stop shaking first.
“Buck.”
Shit.
Eddie.
Buck feels a hand on his shoulder and he expects it to burn, but the touch is cool—not cold—and Buck shudders, leaning in, no matter how much it hurts his scorched, sunburnt skin. He’s still shaking, tremors wracking through his body, and Buck doesn’t know how he’s still standing but he’s sure that he’s not going to be standing for much longer considering how much that little bit of bending took out of him.
But awareness washes in with the touch on his shoulder and beneath the still crackling fire and jets of water still arcing up at the building, Buck is aware of just what he’d done in front of so many eyes. Every incident before had been easy to hide; Buck running before anyone could put the puzzle pieces together but this time he’s shown them all so blatantly, and now they know he’s not just fire-blooded, he’s a Fire Bender.
Dangerous.
Uncontrolled.
A disaster waiting to happen.
Buck heaves air and takes a stumbling step forward, ignoring how much effort it takes to break Eddie’s grasp and not just because Eddie was all but keeping him standing. His hands follow, worry hovering but Buck turns away, focusing instead on the 118 ladder truck where it sits on the side of the road. There are black turnouts and firefighters between them, but they scramble to get out of the way as soon as Buck takes a step towards them, like it’s all he’s got left to keep himself standing.
He doesn’t know how he does it, but he gets there, head pressed against the cool red metal, hands still shaking as they bunch in his tattered, scorched clothes and Eddie….
Eddie hasn’t left his side.
“Let’s get you sat down before you fall down,” he says, hands not quite touching as he gestures to the back of the truck, and the little lip that will allow him to sit while the ambulance is too far or already occupied. Buck goes willingly, because he’s already exhausted and he doesn’t think he’d be able to catch himself if he did fall.
The metal is cold against his skin and the air isn’t entirely unpleasant, and he knows soon enough the adrenaline is going to burn off and Buck is about to feel everything, but he’s too focused on Eddie half leant over him, trying to make injury assessments without touching him.
Like he’s scared Buck will burn him or something.
Buck wants to tell him he’s safe. He won’t ever hurt him, or Chris, or anyone, but instead what comes out is: “you should hate me.”
It’s a surprise enough that both of them are blinking at each other for a moment, and Buck has enough presence of mind to watch the way Eddie’s brow creases and even beneath the exhaustion Buck can name each emotion that flits across his face—surprise-confusion-annoyance-frustration—before it settles on something… fond?
“I’m not going to hate you for that,” Eddie says, shaking his head softly, moving so that he’s perched on his ankles, staring up at Buck with an open, easy smile that soothes like water to his burns. “Annoyed, yes, because you got hurt. But I don’t hate you Buck.”
Gods, if only. Buck wants to believe Eddie, but there’s a shadow to his expression that Buck hasn’t seen before and he doesn’t want to call it fear—he’s seen what fear looks like on Eddie’s face, seen him tense and agitated and it’s not that but Buck—
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. It’s a normal reaction,” he says, lifting his eyes past Eddie to the crowds around them, and the very wide berth everyone is taking around the back of the 118 truck, despite the fact there’s still a fire raging on and the 136 is still inside working on evacuation protocols. Buck can’t really blame them.
Fire Benders have a reputation. Everyone else has their stereotypes and prejudices and already-made-up-minds.
“Everyone else are idiots,” Eddie says without hesitation. He’s not looking in Buck’s eye when he says it, but instead keeps glancing over his skin. Cataloguing the burns. Cataloguing the damage.
He reaches out again, and this time, his hands are swathed in water. “Can I…?”
And this time, Buck realises it’s not that he’s afraid to get hurt. He’s afraid to hurt Buck. As if a little touch is worse that the burns that are currently littering his body.
Buck doesn’t have the strength to say no. Doesn’t want to say no, because he had imagined, even when simply telling Eddie that he was his natural opposite that Eddie would revise their friendship and at best he’d keep him at arms’ length; be willing to work with him but nothing more. He’d lose all the time he’s been spending with Chris, lose the trust Eddie and everyone else had placed in him, because it’s not like Hen and Chim knew either and everyone else would learn and they’d keep Buck at arms’ length and—
It would be Pennsylvania all over again.
Virginia Beach.
SEALs.
Peru.
Except Eddie isn’t shying away or looking at Buck with contempt, and instead deliberate concentration and worry as he finally bridges the distance and his hands, and the water coating them, surrounds Buck’s forearms and—soothes.
“This isn’t something I’m particularly good at, even though I was an Army Medic,” Eddie says, filling the space between them, eyes focused only on his hands and the way the water keeps catching the light of the still-burning fire and it almost seems to glow as it washes over Buck’s skin. It takes him a long moment to realise that the coolness isn’t only a balm for his pain, but that Eddie is using his bending to heal him.
“Adriana has always been better at this than I have, which helps considering her kids are far more chaotic than Chris and they’re always getting into trouble,” Eddie says, not letting the silence sweep back in, hands moving, eyes fixed to his task, and Buck isn’t sure if he’s being delusional—if it’s the exhaustion, the pain or the fuzzy warmth that emanates from where Eddie is touching him—but there’s a flick of uncertainty in Eddie’s expression, almost as if he is unsure, a little afraid himself.
As if Buck had reason to hate him.
“Eddie—”
“Thank you,” Eddie says, sharp, but more rushed than angry. Buck blinks. His head is too foggy to really be having this conversation, and he’s determined to beg Eddie’s apology for keeping this a secret and explain his reasonings, but something tells him Eddie doesn’t want to hear it.
“I don’t think I can fully understand what you gave up by revealing this—” he says, gesturing with his head to Buck’s not-as-burnt hands, “but I am grateful that you thought I was someone worth giving it up for.”
“Of course you are.”
Eddie smiles bright.
The light reflects off of the water, making him look ethereal. Or maybe that’s just Buck.
All too soon, Eddie breaks his gaze, looking a little exhausted himself where he’s extending his own power to Buck; pink-cheeked and a little unsteady when he finally stands back up, offering a hand out now that the worst of Buck’s injuries are like sunburn and flushed skin.
“C’mon,” Eddie says, grip tightening to pull Buck up off the back of the ladder truck, stepping into his space to keep him standing as he glances away, Buck following his gaze to the gathered three of the remainder of their team, each looking different degrees of worried. “I’m not going to be able to hold them back much longer.”
“That’s okay. They probably have questions,” Buck sighs, and falls into step, leaning into Eddie and is further comforted when Hen and Chim take that as their cues to rush forward, as if they don’t care about his bloodline or the potential disaster he could bring, and instead they’re only worried.
Eddie hums in agreement, but just as Hen and Chim reach them, with Bobby not far behind, he moves so that he’s almost stepped between them, making them take pause. “But their questions can wait until we know that you’re okay,” he says pointedly, talking to Buck but staring firmly at the firefighter-paramedic pair, “and that all this is just exhaustion and not anything more worrying. Seriously Buck, how hard did you push yourself?”
The attempt at lightning the mood isn’t as effective as it should be considering how much concern is still dripping from Eddie’s voice, but Buck doesn’t feel like he immediately needs to run for the hills so he counts it as a win.
“I’m… not used to Bending that much without building up to it,” Buck shrugs, somewhere between standing and being found a space in the medic tent to sit before he falls over. He’d probably be in the back of an ambulance if there was space, considering its’ now Hen and Chim monitoring him, but Buck doesn’t mind. He hasn’t had a great track record with hospitals, and that’s not even including the times people make assumptions from his chart before even talking to him.
“It’s easier to hide candle flames and pushing away fires in already-burning buildings without drawing attention to it, so it’s not like I have much practice. Fire Bending isn’t something that people readily except considering how dangerous it is.”
Chim takes pause from where he’s taking Buck’s core temperature, lips twisted into an almost pout. “Maybe. But I’ve seen some people do some pretty crazy things with cars, and that has nothing to do with Bending; fire, water or otherwise.”
Buck snorts a laugh. Trust Chim to make a joke. To not really care and to carry on as if this was any other day.
Hen is doing the same; rolling her eyes, quietly grumbling under her breath because Buck was being reckless again, but she’s worried-fond-serious when she runs through a familiar line of triage questions like there could be something more Buck is keeping hidden, because Buck doesn’t like others to worry and plays everything off until he can go home and put an ice-pack on it.
Bobby and Eddie are stood to the side, talking low, eyes rarely drifting from Buck and the low-burning flames that are much more manageable now, and the steady-stream of evacuees being led out of the building; hardly faltering in their usual roles like this isn’t any different to any other fire and—
Oh. It’s not.
Not to them.
Because to them, Eddie and Buck were working together as they always do. Buck and Eddie came up with a mad plan and executed it near-perfect, as they always do. Buck put himself in harms’ way to protect his family, as he always does.
And his family has his back.
As they always do.
It doesn’t matter about his bloodline. His bending.
Maybe Buck was keeping secrets he didn’t need to.
Maybe Los Angeles really is different to everywhere else.
Maybe Buck can finally stop running.
Stop hiding.
Start living.