Chapter Text
The thing is that Lauren – she doesn’t even know what the hell she’s looking for. “So, what color is it – ivory or champagne?” she asks her future sister-in-law, her dark walnut curls swaying like a pendulum as she turns sharply.
Emily turns around, cheeks flushed and breathless, hoisting a large tote bag onto her shoulder. Its contents spill over, the wedding binder teetering precariously at the top. Her perky blonde bob bounces with every movement, glasses perched lazily on her head to corral a few unruly flyaways.
“It has to be blush,” she insists, enunciating each syllable so dramatically that the steaming cup in her hand erupts like a volcano, splattering coffee across the floor.
“Riiight,” Lauren mutters, just as the familiar click-clacking of heels announces the return of their associate, Monica. Hangers strain in her tight grasp, a disordered bouquet of dresses that makes Lauren squirm. She shifts her focus back to the rack, parting the gowns like the Red Sea, revealing more of the precious fabric hidden beneath.
“I think I found just what you’re looking for, Ms. Howell,” Monica announces with a broad smile, her eyes glittering as she unrolls the next dress. Lauren can't help but notice the lipstick smudge on Monica’s front tooth, and a small grimace pulls at the corner of her mouth.
Taking her place on the settee, Lauren watches as Emily scrambles onto a pedestal, her tote and binder unceremoniously dropped on a nearby chair. Val, another associate, appears with fresh champagne, refilling their glasses. Lauren lifts hers in silent gratitude, the bubbles tickling her nose as she lets the warmth spread through her chest.
Monica unfurls the first dress, a voluminous creation plastered with tufts and jewels, draping it across Emily like a theatrical curtain. “How do we feel about this one?” she asks, and Lauren barely contains herself. “A little tacky,” she mutters, the champagne emboldening her more than she’s willing to admit.
“What was that?” Emily asks, turning sharply, her brow furrowed, while Monica adjusts the fabric with nervous haste.
“Oh! Nothing! Sorry, what do you think?” Lauren quickly smooths her face into an apology, plastering on a forced smile.
“Do you think Paul would like it?” Emily asks, uncertainty clouding her features as she looks at the dress with a mixture of awe and doubt.
Lauren chokes on her champagne, coughing as she stammers, “I think… he’s a little more reserved.” A sharp crash suddenly erupts from the back room, followed by a loud, panicked shout. Monica’s face twists with concern as she excuses herself.
“Just one moment, ladies. Enjoy your champagne, and I’ll be right back,” Monica says, retreating with a look of concern.
Left in a suffocating silence, Lauren and Emily exchange uneasy glances, the moment stretching painfully long until Monica returns, flanked by Val, her face a portrait of frazzled anxiety. But it’s the dark stain clinging to the hem of Val’s skirt that catches Lauren’s attention.
“Is that… blood?” she blurts out, her voice sharp with disbelief.
“Blood?! I can’t –” Emily’s halts mid-pace, her face draining of color as fear paints her features.
“Emily, hold on. Why don’t you sit down?” Lauren suggests, concern filling her face as Monica’s panic intensifies. She takes her elbow and guides her toward a seat, keeping a close eye on the previously perky bride. With a heavy thud, Emily collapses onto the chaise, swaying dangerously as she lands.
“She’s not a fan of b-l-o-o-d,” Lauren whispers to the associates, her voice low and conspiratorial.
“I can hear you!” Emily gasps, her breath quickening.
“I’ll get you some water,” Val assures, darting out of the room in a flurry of motion.
“I just need—” Emily tries to stand, but before she can, her eyes roll back, and she crumples, her body going limp. The sickening thwack of her head hitting the end table echoes through the room.
“Emily!” Lauren cries out, her voice raw with horror as Emily falls, her body ungracefully hitting the floor.
“Somebody call 9-1-1!”
A loud crash shatters the silence in the loft at the station as Hen and Eddie watch Bobby confidently break the rack in a game of pool. Eddie chuckles as stripes land in the corner pocket, offering a fist bump to his Captain.
“How’s Denny doing?” Eddie asks, his eyes alight with affection as he turns to Hen eyeing her next shot.
Chalking her cue, Hen smiles fondly as her eyes settle in the distance, a memory of her family filling her vision as she pauses. She turns to Eddie with a soft gaze and replies “He’s doing good, he’s getting his cast off tomorrow and he can’t wait.” Chuckling, she lines up her shot with determination. She strikes the cue, sinking the 6 ball into the pocket.
Bobby smirks and nods, “I’ll bet. Any masterpieces make it on before he loses it?”
“Besides Chimney’s intricate and” she raises her voice playfully so Chimney can hear her as he climbs the stairs to the loft, “horrifying drawing of Voldemort, no.”
Chimney, unfazed by the dig, waves off the comment as he heads to the kitchen. Buck, trailing right behind, lets out a low chuckle, making his way toward the crew. As he pats Chim’s back, they break into separate paths. “A lot more to be horrified about w-when Chim’s involved,” Buck teases, his tone warm and familiar.
“Very funny, Buck!” Chim calls back. He’s paused by the couch, entrenched in his cell phone, crafting a response to Maddie’s incoming text messages. As Buck joins Eddie and scans the table, he points out where to aim next, pulling a cue from the rack to join.
The game continues with Chim huffing angrily from the other side of the loft, mumbling each time his phone lights up. By the time Buck gets the scoop on how Chris’ most recent history quiz went, how Bobby & Athena’s house search is going, and Eddie’s version of the basketball game Tommy claims he kicked his ass during, an upset Chimney has made his way to the kitchen and is pacing.
The sound of Chim’s phone being tossed onto a table interrupts the pleasant conversation as he marches over to the coffee pot, letting out a groan when he finds it empty.
“Who’s the jerk that drank the last of the –” turning towards the others, he pauses as his eyes meet Buck’s, frozen with a mug of steaming coffee halfway to his lips.
Buck points at himself and looks around the station, shaking his head as he turns back to Chimney, “Wasn’t me.” Chim rolls his eyes in response as he works to get a new pot started.
“Wh-what’s up with you?” Buck probes as he strolls over and leans on the countertop, recognizing his brother-in-law’s sizzling frustration. The satisfying fragrance of coffee beans and Bobby’s cinnamon rolls fills the galley, easing the friction steaming off Chim. He’s still visibly tense but his shoulders relax just slightly at the question as he turns the pot on.
“Your sister, Evan Buckley, is doing her damndest to give me gray hair,” he responds vaguely, mechanically making a joke despite his fraught tone.
Chuckling, Buck ducks his head and takes another sip of coffee, “Hate to tell you this, Chim, but it’s been working fo-for a while.”
Chim levels him with a stare that combats Bobby on his worst day and crosses his arms with a soft huff. “Didn’t know you were such a comedian, Buck,” he says, enunciating Buck’s name with a pop of his lips.
He rubs his temple, and Buck starts to notice the tint of purple high on his cheeks, his face drawn with exhaustion. Chimney’s eyes are dull where they would normally sparkle with charm and excitement. He leans in closer, his face growing serious. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” the exasperated sigh that escapes Chim and settles on the island between him and Buck brings an unsettled fatigue to the air. “Just a lot going on.”
Buck can feel the weight of Chimney’s struggle but knows better than to press him. Instead, he offers a simple, “Let me know if you need anything. I-I can watch Jee anytime.”
A small smile tugs at Chimney’s lips in gratitude, but before they can dive into a deeper conversation, the station’s tones go off, alerting them to a call at a local bridal shop.
Something about the clang of metal and the roar of the engine always settles something inside of Buck, his anxiety on the way to a scene a constant beside the rush of adrenaline, but by now he’s learned to harness it, to use it as fuel rather than fear.
When they’re rushing through the streets of Los Angeles, headed toward the unknown, he knows that everyone in this truck has his back, and that loyalty and trust surge him just as far forward as his fear does. His team is a well-oiled machine, moving in sync with an unspoken rhythm, and as always, it’s a feeling of home, of belonging.
Today, like any other, the atmosphere of the team buzzes around him like a familiar friend, he knows every time one of them is off-balance, uncertain, angry. On a day he thought he would find strength and confidence, he can sense instead the feeling of dread pouring out between the seams of the cab.
Glancing around the engine, he finds relaxed and confident faces among his friends and captain; the only tense energy is pooling right around Chimney – his stress palpable between them. Buck tries to dismiss the feeling, chalk it up to his empathy meter being higher today for some reason; thinking about Jee softening him up to the more vulnerable feelings oozing off the man beside him.
Buck inhales deeply, the scent of metal and smoke mingling in the air along with adrenaline swirling around the cab. He takes a steadying breath before offering a friendly nudge to his neighbor, “You good, Chim?”
Slightly startled at the movement intruding on his focused worry, Chimney glances up at Buck and almost imperceptibly nods, “All good.”
Buck would believe him if he didn’t know everything Chimney was doing behind the scenes. The amount of time he focuses on his family, his sister always frustrated at the edge of worry for the man she loves. Ever since he got himself laid up with Encephalitis, Chim has been taking on the weight of the world. And yet, Chim always keeps going, never asking for help, never showing how tired he really is.
It’s easy for Buck to see when he and Maddie take on Mara, the number of times he stops by after Buck dislocated his shoulder – stocking the fridge with his most recent round of recipes and desserts courtesy of him and Jee. Tommy certainly appreciated the cake, but Buck can tell it’s more than the late-night binges of Great British Baking Show and trips to the grocery store that are sagging Chim’s shoulders.
Still, they have a job to do, so Buck points his gaze ahead, steeling himself for the call they’re headed toward.
As Bobby rattles off the details, Buck starts runs through his mental checklist. What equipment might be needed, whether he’ll need to use his mask and oxygen or leave his turnouts behind, whether they’ll need the ladder, the engine, what tools will be best for loosening metal trapping someone, wrenching someone free of the pain they may be suffering.
It’s a minor call, but that’s no matter, he still takes care to wind through the compartments in his mind, checking off where and when he can collect what’s needed in the most efficient way. He knows this truck like the back of his hand, every piece inventoried, cleaned, and maintained flawlessly. Not only does he take pride in his technical maintenance, he also knows his team’s safety depends on it and he doesn’t take that job lightly.
As Buck pushes through the door of the gown shop, the scent of fabric and faint perfume fills the air. Buck’s heart rate picks up as he scans the room, taking in the frantic energy of the scene. Bobby heads towards a woman behind the desk and inquires about what’s going on. “This way, sir,” she says, leading him to the back room.
“Someone call for help?” Buck calls out, his voice calm and confident, though his eyes dart to the woman on the floor in the next room.
“Hey, can you give me a hand with her?” Eddie calls to him as he kneels beside the woman, stabilizing her neck and checking her over. His concentration is focused as he prepares to treat her, and Buck focuses on making sure Eddie can do his job as easily as possible.
“Got it,” Buck replies. He kneels beside Eddie, removing his helmet and unbuttoning his turnouts for better movement. Eddie leans closer, listening to the girl’s breathing as his brow is set in a stern furrow and his mouth in a flat line.
“What’s her name?” Buck asks the woman standing nearby. Her face is pale, eyes wide with shock. Buck’s practiced with the emotions that come with an emergency. His daily routine includes five to ten others’ worst moments, and while he’s familiar with the face she wears, that doesn’t make him feel any better about how she’s doing.
“E-Emily,” she stammers, her voice trembling. She’s dwarfed amid the bridal gowns and tufts of fabric that surround her, tossed aside and forgotten in the chaos of the collapse.
“Emily,” Buck repeats softly, offering a reassuring smile. “We’re here to help.”
As Buck gathers details and keeps others at bay, Eddie continues to work diligently on Emily, connecting wires and requesting various items from his medical kit.
“My name’s Buck,” he says, nodding toward Eddie. “This here is Eddie. Is Emily your friend?”
“She’s my brother’s fiancée,” the woman replies, her voice softening as she looks down at Emily. “She saw the blood on Val – on the associate’s skirt and…”
Before she can finish, Eddie interjects, “Fainted. Buck, can you grab me the – ”
“Got it.” Buck quickly hands Eddie the gauze and blood pressure cuff. “Thanks – Emily, can you hear me?” He shifts his focus back to the prone woman on the floor.
Turning to the future sister-in-law, Buck asks, “Does she have any allergies? Take any medications?” He can see her uncertainty, the panic starting to creep in.
“I don’t know. Let me call Paul,” she says, pulling out her phone.
“Paul?” Eddie asks while he applies pressure to the cut on Emily’s head.
“My brother,” she replies, her fingers moving quickly over the screen. “Her fiancée.”
As she speaks, Buck rummages through the medical bag, moving around Eddie with practiced ease. It feels like a well-rehearsed dance, each anticipating the other’s needs. Whenever there’s a swirl of chaos, Eddie is always the calm in the middle of it.
When the woman returns from her call, she frowns slightly. “I’ll have to call him back when we know what hospital she’s going to. He’s pissed.”
“Did you find out about allergies or medication?” Eddie asks, echoing Buck’s earlier questions.
“Right, um, no, not that he said.”
As Emily begins to regain consciousness and the bleeding slows, Buck sees the rest of the 118 collecting a backboard and preparing to load her into the ambulance. Hen and Bobby are with another store employee, one that must have been a part of the ruckus that caused the blood on the associate’s skirt to begin with.
“Wh-what happened?” Emily murmurs as her eyes open and finds herself clipped into a backboard in the middle of a gown store.
“Just a little accident and a bump to the head, we’re taking you to the hospital,” Eddie assures her in a soft voice, his bedside manner calm and smooth as ever. “Your sister –”
“Lauren,” Lauren interjects, collecting Emily’s monstrosity of a handbag and gathering their items to bring with them.
“Lauren,” Eddie corrects, “Called your fiancée, we’re gonna let him know where you’re headed.”
Distraught, Emily’s face contorts with anxiety and something that looks an awful lot like guilt before she looks to Lauren, “He doesn’t have to come, you can give me a ride home, right?”
Lauren, despite her irritation at the situation up to this point, softens and reaches a hand to Emily as they start to move towards the front door. “Yeah, but Em,” she pauses, “You know he won’t just leave you there. He’ll be okay.”
Buck looks at Eddie and frowns, the conversation clearly revealing more than meets the eye. They share a glance and remain quiet, hopeful they’ll hear an indication as to whether to be concerned about the fiancée or not. Buck’s not one to take potential domestic violence lightly, his mind flashing to memories of running towards Maddie on the snow-covered hillside of a Big Bear resort.
Instead, Lauren gives Emily’s hand a squeeze and offers an explanation to the men. “Paul. He underwent radiation this past year, so he’s been in and out of…” a distant look crosses her face as the memories appear to flood her mind. “It can just be a lot to be back in a hospital. But he’s okay now. He’s in remission, right Em.”
Emily, with tears softly glistening in her eyes, smiles gently up at Lauren and nods. “We decided to get married right away.” The men load her into the back of the ambulance and her smile grows tentatively wider, “Don’t wanna miss any chances, you know?”
As they clean up the aftermath of the call, Buck’s thoughts drift, as they often do these days, to Tommy. It hasn’t been long since they’ve seen each other, but the hours spent apart in the past few days stretch out, each missed connection feeling like a small eternity. Between the chaos of babysitting Jee, basketball games with Eddie, and the endless demands of work, there’s barely been time to breathe, let alone be with Tommy.
He thinks of the simple, comforting things – the mornings they spend together in bed, bodies tangled beneath the duvet, the soft warmth of Tommy’s skin against his, the easy rhythm of their conversations that never seem to run out of things to say. It’s in moments like these, with the ever-present gnawing needs from the public, that Buck aches for that kind of peace.
It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the work they do. He does. Deeply. But there are days when he just wants to be still, to hold Tommy close, to sleep through an afternoon, no sirens, no flames, no rushing toward another emergency.
Chimney’s stress gnaws at him, too. Between work and the weight of his responsibilities, it’s clear Chim is carrying more than anyone should. And Buck – Buck is never one to let a friend shoulder that weight alone. His mind begins to drift, formulating plans, little ways he and Tommy can lighten the load, help Chim when the dust settles.
As Buck tucks the last piece of equipment back into its compartment, Eddie’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Got any plans this weekend?”
The question is casual, but Buck can hear the lightness in Eddie’s tone. It’s the kind of easy, laid-back conversation they have when the world isn’t on fire.
Buck grins, the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tommy and I, uh, finally have a day off together with nothing planned,” he says, his voice playful, smirking as he adds emphasis to the ‘nothing planned’ part. He winks at Eddie, cutting him off before Eddie can even open his mouth to ask.
Eddie freezes for a second, eyebrows raising in mock horror, before he shoots Buck an exaggerated grimace. “Oh, please. I didn’t need that mental image,” he mutters, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He slams the compartment door shut with a little more force than necessary, then mimics gagging. “No more information necessary, Buck.”
Buck bursts out laughing, unable to hold it in. He catches Eddie’s eye and grins even wider at the absurdity of it all. “Hey, it’s not like I’m making you join us.”
Eddie rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m good, thanks.” A softness rolls through his smile when he looks back at Buck and asks, “Things going well? With Tommy?”
Before Buck can respond, Bobby’s voice calls out from around the corner, snapping them back to attention. “Let’s move, guys. There’s a five-alarm fire outside the city. They’re calling in units from all over.”
Buck and Eddie exchange a quick nod before jogging to catch up with Bobby, hopping up into the engine. The unexpected need for treatment on two victims at the bridal shop sent Hen to the ER to assist but Bobby indicates she’ll join when the drop-off is complete.
As they weave through the neighborhoods and drive towards the outskirts of the city, the team inside the engine works to get everything in order, prepping their turnouts and masks for the upcoming blaze.
Buck hears Maddie’s voice crackle through the radio, her familiar, crisp tone cutting through the static, but something’s off. Her usual professionalism is there, but there’s an undercurrent of tension. “118, be advised. Companies 122, 136, 105, 217, and 133 are already on-site. Air operations will be joining shortly. Captain Mehta is IC and will be your point of contact upon arrival.”
Buck can hear the worry pinching the vowels tight behind her teeth, a slight hitch in her breath before naming Tommy’s station, the air of worry and forewarning heavy in her pitch. His eyes flick to Chimney, who gives him a small, knowing nod.
A promise.
They exchange a brief glance, a silent acknowledgment that they’ve got each other’s backs. They’ll protect each other, both as teammates and as brothers, no matter what.
The engine weaves and bobs along the winding roads, the trees on either side growing denser as they head toward the outskirts of the city. The scent of pine and earth thickens in the air, and Buck feels a weird sense of relief, fleeting as it is, as they navigate the isolated roads towards the factory. Away from the usual LA traffic, they have a small reprieve.
But even this quiet is short-lived.
For a moment, Buck lets his mind wander again – thoughts of Tommy, of plans that might slip away in times like this, of overtime and mandatory shifts taking over the life he’s dreamed of for so long. It makes his heart sink, just a little.
The engine suddenly lurches violently, jerking him from his spiraling thoughts. His grip tightens instinctively on the seat, and the tires hit a sharp turn, skidding and screeching against the loose gravel. The world tilts, sharp and sudden, and for one horrifying moment, it feels like the entire world is being upended. Time stretches, elongating into something surreal as the engine begins to slip sideways, its massive frame swaying uncontrollably toward the edge of a shallow cliff.
Buck sees nothing but pristine blue sky through the window before his stomach drops, heart hammering in his chest as his hands lash out, trying to steady himself. The sirens blast in frantic, desperate wails, their hysterical cries swallowed by the rising panic in his chest.
Then, the ground disappears beneath them.
The tires spin wildly, desperate to catch traction, but it’s too late. The engine tips further, its weight dragging it over the edge, sending Buck’s stomach into his throat as gravity takes over.
The whole world tilts. Metal groans, screeching and bending as the vehicle crashes sideways, every violent twist and turn jerking their bodies like loose change contained in the belly of the truck.
For what feels like an eternity, Buck’s world is a blur. The force of the shift throws him hard against the window, his head slamming into the shattered glass with a sickening crack, and everything goes dark in an instant.
The sirens wail, distorted and muffled, echoing eerily through the forest, their cries fading into the silence.
The engine lies crumpled on its side, twisted metal a monstrous outline against the dense backdrop of trees. The air is thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Buck is unconscious, his head pressed against the broken window, shards of glass still glittering around him like dangerous confetti. Blood seeps down his temple from the impact, but there’s no time to feel it yet.
Eddie is slumped in the jump seat behind the captain’s chair, his body twisted unnaturally from the force of the crash. Chimney is sprawled awkwardly across the floor, pinned by the weight of the fallen equipment, groaning but still unconscious. Bobby lies near the front of the engine, his legs tangled beneath the dash, motionless for the moment.
Outside, the world is still. The silence broken only by the faint, distant hum of the sirens, their shrill cries now swallowed up by the vast, silent expanse of the forest.