Chapter Text
0. One half
There’s something to be said about beginnings - all things have one, but not all are pretty. Getting struck by lighting is high up on the list of shitty ones, if you ask Buck.
He doesn’t remember the strike. That part, funnily enough, isn’t what’s important here. It’s almost goddamn irrelevant, if he’s being honest. Sure, he almost died. Actually died, if you’re being pedantic. What really matters though, is what came after.
After going up on that ladder, after being struck, dying and being brought back to life... It’s when he wakes up in the hospital, looks around and feels, for what’s probably the first time in his entire life, that he’s whole.
There’s this inkling on the back of his mind, and idea on the tip of his tongue, something ever so close to immanence but just beyond his reach… His muddled thoughts don’t help with clarity but, in that moment, he’s complete. He’s found something to keep him afloat.
It’s nonsensical, really, and exactly the sort of thing someone drugged out of their mind would think. Except for the part where it makes perfect sense, where it couldn’t have been anything else, because Buck is who he is, and that person hadn’t been whole the entirety of their life.
Except for the part where Buck is sure, suddenly and with clarity, that he’d been walking around as half a person this entire time. He feels, in that moment, like he’s found himself.
It’s the sort of thought that would be brushed away were it not for the fact that it feels completely and utterly right. So he lays there, awake for the first time in (years) days, and has so many realisations about his previous life, that his vision spins a little - although that part could be attributed to the drugs.
Buck feels like, if he had the time, he could analyse his entire life from a third person’s POV, and see all the times he went wrong… If he just had a little more time… he could commit this feeling to memory, to recall later and break apart. It feels monumental… It feels… It feels…
If he could just…
1. Safekeeping
When Buck wakes up, he finds Eddie sitting in the chair next to his bed, looking like he hasn’t left his side in days. His oily hair, his too-pale skin, crumpled clothes and stubble paint the picture of worry. He’s dozing off uncomfortably while upright and, although he knows he should, Buck is reluctant to wake him. Instead, he takes the time to think.
Most of what Buck remembers from whatever incident brought him here are bits and bobs of awareness. Some flashes of light, some moments of brief wakefulness… Nothing solid for him to cling to. He remembers going up on that ladder, remembers the feeling of electricity in the air, the strong smell of ozone… Then nothing.
All of his muscles ache something terrible, but his chest in particular feels like it was smashed to bits. His guess is that he received CPR, at one point or another. Without moving his neck too much, he’s able to spot some light bandaging on his arms. With no casts on his legs either, he doesn’t think it’s likely to have been a fall.
Eventually, Eddie wakes up, bringing him out of his musings. Buck gets to watch him open his eyes slowly, stretch out his joints in the squeaky hospital chair and run a hand through his unwashed hair. He gets to see the moment Eddie realises Buck’s awake, the way his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack.
“Buck,” he breathes out, and he sounds... tentatively relieved, and maybe a bit off kilter. Eddie immediately gets up from his chair, taking the necessary couple of steps to press the ‘call for nurse’ button by Buck’s bedside. Buck drinks in the sight of his best friend like he hasn’t seen him in years. In turn, Eddie looks at him like he’s scared Buck will disappear into thin air.
“Buck,” he repeats, reverent, voice a bit tight, “Are you…”
He sounds like he wants to say more, but isn’t sure how to. Like there’s too much for anything to actually make it out. Buck commiserates. They don’t get the chance to speak, either way, because they’re immediately approached by a harried looking nurse full of vital medical questions to ask.
There’s not many opportunities to talk after that. There’s an inordinate amount of check ups, exams and tests to be made, all of which make sure they’re never left alone in the same room together for more than a few seconds.
Buck learns he was struck by lightning - actual lightning - which does a pretty good job of explaining why he feels as if he went through a meat grinder, but doesn’t really tell him why he apparently has the world’s worst luck.
Eddie, in turn, alternates between watching Buck like a hawk and stepping outside to call their friends and let them know Buck’s awake, he’s well, he’s with the doctors now, and other such important things. Buck’s sure he left out one key piece of information though.
“Mr. Buckley, how are you feeling?” A kind looking nurse asks him, for what feels like the millionth time, looking at him expectantly.
Buck knows by now that she’ll wait however long it takes for an answer. So did the several other people that asked him the same thing in the past hour, after all. He forces himself to give her a shaky smile, which makes her eyebrows scrunch a little, although he can tell she’s trying her best to hide it.
“Is he... I mean, is it okay that he isn’t speaking yet?” A worried Eddie asks, from where he’s sitting next to Buck.
The nurse smiles calmly, prattling off a practised non answer Buck can’t bother listening to, then turns toward him again, busying herself with checking his IV drip. Eddie stands anxiously to the side, going ignored.
Buck... He knows he should say something, knows he could say something. There’s nothing wrong with his vocal cords, and none of the multiple brain scans showed any permanent damage. Of course, there’s always the chance that the trauma has been more pervasive than they realise but… Buck can feel it. He can speak, he’s still able to, it’s just…
When he tries, it’s as if the sounds won’t get past his throat, as if they’re stuck there, for now. Buck thinks his body might not be ready. Like, for some reason, it’s still on those ladder steps, still suspended midair, struggling to play catchup with the feeling of being thrown into a coma and ripped right back out of it.
In the end, the doctors can do their tests, but Buck knows his words are still there, on standby. Not that it makes it any less frustrating.
He can feel Eddie’s worry in the air like it’s a tangible thing, and Buck wishes, more than anything, that he could assure him he’s fine. So, he takes the man’s hand in his and smiles reassuringly. Says ‘we’re okay, it’s okay, I’m here’ without actual words.
Eddie looks relieved and harried all in one, but smiles back nonetheless. It’s not enough but, for now, it’ll do.
They find other ways to communicate after that. Buck still hasn’t gotten rid of his involuntary silence but, quickly enough, a reassuring hand squeeze turns into creative hand signals, a lighthearted smile turns into exaggerated facial expressions, a sigh becomes embedded with new meaning.
Buck can still scoff and refuse the (disgusting) hospital fruit cups, and he can roll his eyes perfectly well when Eddie hands him a pile of crossword puzzles to solve. Slowly, they find some semblance of balance, with their new way of communicating.
“I know you said no before, but... Well, I’ve been tasked with asking you if you’re open to seeing anyone else, yet,” Eddie tells him, about three days after he first wakes up. Buck immediately frowns, making Eddie raise his hands defensively.
“I know, I know. If you’re not ready...“ he trails off. Buck sighs, beckoning him closer. As soon as Eddie’s within range, he grabs his right hand, bringing it over his heart, then brings their joined hands over Eddie’s own chest.
“Alright,” Eddie catches on easily, like he always does. “Just you and me.”
Buck nods, squeezing his hand tighter.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to see his family, it’s just that he feels… wrongfooted. Off kilter. He knows Eddie’s noticed something’s different, I mean, the not talking is a pretty dead giveaway. Still, Buck knows he’s attributing all the recent strangeness to the shock of yet another near death experience. He’s not wrong, not exactly, but also...
“I’m gonna step out for a bit, let Maddie know you need a little more time,” Eddie gives his hand a comforting pat before disentangling their fingers. “Be back soon.”
Buck nods, shooing him away with his hands, settling further against the pillows. He knows he can’t hide away in a hospital room forever. It’s just… For now, he needs a little more time.
2. Making room
After being discharged from the hospital, Buck takes temporary residence in Eddie's bed, but not without a bit of protesting. Staying at the Diaz home isn't ever an argument, but Buck does initially disagree over their sleeping arrangements.
He loses the argument pretty quickly, though, given the fact that he can barely stand on his own, and shouldn’t be sleeping on an uncomfortable couch under any circumstance. In the end, he has to admit the bed definitely feels nicer against his aching muscles.
Buck spends the first couple of days sleeping. No one is especially alarmed by this, they all know recovery takes time and patience, and are more than willing to give him space. Buck got struck by lightning and came out the other side with a mile long list of medications he needs to take.
He barely keeps track of it all, trusting Eddie to take the reins on his treatment, which the man does without complaint. Buck, in turn, mostly doses off and gives ‘yes or no’ responses to simple questions.
Nine days after the strike, however, he still hasn't seen anyone but Eddie. Christopher has been staying with his bisabuela since Buck’s discharge from the hospital, and Buck feels immensely guilty for keeping him away from his own home. As much as Eddie assures him that Chris has been very understanding, Buck can't help the way he feels.
Although Eddie and him had agreed that it was best for Chris to be away for a couple days while they figured out where they stood on Buck’s condition, Buck now feels pretty confident he’s not going to mentally scar Chris by dropping dead in the middle of a conversation (thanks a lot, blood clot). Which is why, on the third morning after he’s out of the hospital, he decides it's time.
Eddie's in the kitchen making them breakfast when Buck walks in, still moving carefully and slowly. He's dragging his feet a little, and Eddie probably heard him coming a mile away, but he still knocks on the threshold, just to announce his presence.
Eddie turns towards him from the stove, a small smile on his face
“Hey,” he says, voice warm and a bit husky from sleep. Buck smiles back, raising his hand in a tentative wave. Eddie, seemingly satisfied with his response, turns back around, stirring something gently. “I’m making scrambled eggs which, admittedly, were supposed to be omelettes but… Well, they’ll taste the same either way…”
As he speaks, Buck takes a seat at the kitchen table, wincing as his bad leg cramps from the straining movement. He rubs at his calf for a moment, trying to get the pain to recede, which it eventually does.
“...and the toast is only mildly overcooked, so that’s good…”
It’s sort of nice, Buck thinks, having Eddie fill the silence like this. Buck’s sort of a motormouth most of the time, and Eddie’s quips and dry humour can get lost in the chatter of the others, like Chimney and himself. Eddie knows Buck feels more comfortable when there’s conversation, and since he can’t currently contribute more… Buck feels very lucky to be so loved.
“...but what does Chimney know about pancakes anyway, we all know yours are much better…”
It’s not a thought he would’ve had spontaneously, before the strike. That he’s loved, well and truly, by his family. By Eddie. Previously, admitting even to himself that others cared about him and his wellbeing was like pulling teeth. Buck always had a bit of an inferiority complex, he knows, which made it exceedingly difficult to see the love other people feel towards him.
“Anyway,” Eddie finishes his spiel, smiling sheepishly as he places their plates on the table, “It’s probably for the best I threw those waffles out but, I mean, who knew frozen food could expire like that?”
Buck chuckles fondly, before digging into his food. Eddie’s pretending not to look at him to see his reaction, so Buck makes sure to subtly show how much he enjoys the spread. He doesn’t even have to act, which is a bonus. He catches Eddie’s small, pleased smile as he starts eating, himself.
Throughout their meal, Buck tries to decide when would be the best time to broach the topic of Christopher, and how he might go about it. He thinks of just… saying it, but finds that he still can’t. Every time he tries to get the words to move up his vocal cords, they get stuck, like they might choke him if he tries any harder. He huffs in frustration, pulling Eddie’s attention away from his food.
“What?” Eddie asks him. Buck points towards his mouth, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Eddie’s mouth twists. “Still no dice, huh,” he ventures. Buck grimaces, shaking his head.
“Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out,” Eddie assures him. Buck takes another sip of his juice, just to have something to do with his hands instead of fidgeting. Eddie seems to take notice of his nerves, going by the careful look he gives him. “You need something?” he guesses.
Buck shakes his head, making a so-so motion with his hands. ‘Christopher’, he mouths, without actually making any noise. Eddie’s face clears, although he looks a bit reticent.
“You’re ready to see him?” he questions. Buck nods, smiling slightly, happy to be understood. Eddie nods, considering. “As long as you don’t feel like it’s too soon, I’ll pick him up after school lets out.” Buck rolls his eyes playfully.
“Hey,” Eddie complains goodnaturedly, “I’m just worried, alright, you’ve only been home for a couple of days.”
Buck smiles, heart warming at the word ‘home’ being used to encompass him as well. He reaches across the table, taking Eddie’s hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. Eddie smiles back.
“Fine, you’ve convinced me,” he says with humour, before sobering a bit, “but if at any point you feel sick, faint, or anything like that, you tell me, okay?” Buck nods, serious. He doesn’t want Christopher to worry, either.
In the end, things go smoother than he expected them to. Of course, there’s teary hugs and lots of reassurances that Buck’s okay, he’s better now, he’s just not able to talk just yet. The first few times, Christopher touches him as if he’s afraid Buck will break.
After a while, though, he stops looking at him like he’s scared something bad will happen and finally relaxes, going so far as to lean against him on the couch as they watch a movie.
Christopher doesn't mind that Buck’s unable to talk. He actually seems to be having a lot of fun with all the different ways they can communicate, like writing, gesturing and even a bit of sign language.
A few days later, at Chris' insistence, all three of them know how to spell in sign. Which, Buck has to admit, comes in incredibly handy even if they’re still kind of terrible at it.
Twelve days after the strike, five days after making it home and three days with Christopher later, Buck decides he's ready for more change. Meaning, of course, he turns on his phone for the first time.
As he expected, there's so many unread texts he has no idea if he'll ever get to replying to them all. For now, he focuses on his chat with Maddie.
A simple ‘Hey,’ to start with, and Maddie is quick to reply, worried, relieved and understanding all in one. Not once does she admonish him for not contacting her sooner, and Buck is so grateful for his sister he actually sheds a couple tears
Between time spent with Eddie and Chris, texting Maddie and, eventually, the others, Buck thinks he’s managing the whole dying situation masterfully. There’s daily breakfasts with his favorite boys, quality time with Chris, late night movie sessions with Eddie, and they’re setting up a day for a visit from his sister…
Buck lets his guard down, just a little.
Which is why, he guesses, when the tide does finally come, he gets swept up so easily.
3. Afterthought
Buck is splayed out on the living room couch, like he has been for the past few hours, when Eddie appears on the doorway looking peeved. Buck reluctantly sits up, squinting at him as if to see better.
“When was the last time you ate something?” Eddie demands, voice stern.
‘Wym’ Buck finger spells, a bit clumsy. Eddie sighs.
“You didn't have any breakfast, and you skipped lunch,” Eddie explains. “It's 5 pm, in case you haven't noticed.
Buck's mouth twists as he shakes his head. He really doesn’t want to do this. ‘Ltr’ he signs, though he knows Eddie won't take no for an answer.
“You're eating,” the man says, already making his way to the kitchen. Buck purses his lips, but gets up and follows along.
He finds Eddie by the counter cutting an already made sandwich in half, looking harried. Buck sighs, and pushes further into the kitchen.
“Here,” Eddie looks up, thrusting the plate forward, “eat.”
Buck looks at him evenly, taking the offered food with some amount of contempt. Eddie watches intently as he grabs the sandwich, brings it to his mouth and takes a small bite. Buck immediately grimaces. It tastes like ash.
He places it back on the counter, pushing it away in a clear sign. He won’t eat it.
“What?” Eddie asks, sceptical, arms crossed. Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “Oh my god,” Eddie grumbles, picking up the food himself and taking a huge bite.
“It’s fine,” he says while chewing, “this tastes fine.” Buck refuses to make eye contact, decidedly looking anywhere else. The seconds tick by.
“Buck,” Eddie eventually insists, sighing. He places the sandwich down. “You need to eat.”
‘No,’ Buck signs, frowning in frustration. He hates feeling like a spoiled child, especially around Eddie. He just doesn’t feel like eating, that’s all. It shouldn’t be this big of a fucking deal. Eddie doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.
“What’s wrong?” he asks instead, voice softer. Buck… doesn’t know what to tell him.
The thing is, he knows Eddie cares about him. Loves him, even. Wants him healthy, recovered, safe. The problem is all Buck. Because Buck has this feeling in his chest, that’s getting stronger with each passing day. This feeling he can’t name, but controls him.
Because there are months of physical therapy ahead of him that he feels like he’s already failed without even trying. Because Buck was the one who got up on that ladder and tasted ozone on his every pore before finding out what dying really feels like.
‘What’s wrong’, Eddie asks, and Buck doesn’t have an answer to him. It’s nothing. It’s everything. It’s him.
So, instead, he settles for a shrug. Eddie’s mouth twists in response.
“Okay,” he says, “okay, you don’t want a sandwich. Fine. What, then?”
Buck doesn’t answer. Eddie breathes in. Out. Counts to ten.
“It’s been days since you’ve had a proper meal,” he explains after a moment, barely refraining from turning into a plea. “You need carbs, protein. Vitamins. You know this.”
Buck screws his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to. Knows he has to. He shakes his head anyway. He’s glad his eyes are closed, so he doesn’t have to see the disappointment on Eddie’s face.
“Buck…” he breathes out. “You have to tell me what’s wrong. Please.”
Buck feels the tell tale sting of tears in his eyes, the tightening in his chest. He needs… He needs…
“I know you hate this,” Eddie says, gently, “I hated it just as much when I was the one who was injured…”
Buck watches as he steels himself, eyes turning apologetic and determined all in one.
“...But you’re not leaving this kitchen without eating something first. So we either take a seat or you pick something to eat. It’s your choice.”
Buck sighs, defeated. He knows from reading the other man’s face that he means it, one hundred percent. There’s no way he’s leaving this room without trudging through a meal. So he gives up, feels the fight leave his body entirely, shoulders slumping.
Fine, he thinks. Alright.
‘Soup,’ he signs, and Eddie breathes out in relief, already moving to fetch the ingredients.
Buck doesn’t stick around to watch him do it. He’ll eat as much of it as he can once it’s ready but, for now…
He’s got a couch to get back to.