Chapter Text
Buck didn't really understand belief woven through fear. He'd sit behind Bobby in the engine and note him take a minute sometimes, and he knew that everyone had their own way of coping but -
He just thought that someone meant to protect you wouldn't really need you to ask. Or need you to repent for not asking.
He felt the blood drip into his eyes and dug his heel harder against the metal under his shoes.
"Mrs. Diaz," he grit out, cursing the minute he had suggested that they split into two cars, blood storming under his veins at the thought of Eddie and Chris in the car ahead. The one he couldn't see from his position crumpled against the window. "Mrs. Diaz, I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise, but you need to call 9-1-1."
He pretended he didn't hear the wet breath from the woman shaking and partially crushed into him.
"I can't -" her voice was feebler than usual but he could hear her, he could hear the blood staining her words, "I can't reach my phone."
He could feel it, the white stroke of rattling panic warring with adrenaline in his chest. His phone had dropped between the seats sometime between the impact against the tree and Ramon's yell for his wife.
He didn't know if the man was alive. Eddie's dad who took the keys from Buck because he knew the roads better here, only as much as his son. Christopher's grandfather who made him tea for chess for some reason, both of them sitting across each other just last evening on the porch with a board between them. Buck didn't know if he was still breathing.
He would find out if he could move but - his brain hadn't registered its duty to save others before himself. Eddie would have done it, would have protected his head and stayed conscious, would have done triage sooner.
Buck hoped Eddie was doing it somewhere down the ditch where his car had skid into. He prayed that Chris was alive. There wouldn't be any hope for Eddie if that wasn't a guarantee.
He wished Bobby had given him a book of prayers. Anything to call on someone more capable than his own failing body that never understood its purpose. Someone who wasn't as infuriatingly human as himself. He'd just never got it right. Never on time to protect before anyone needed saving.
He had to. He couldn't not do something this time. He'd repent later - clean the blood off Eddie's legs and touch his forehead to Chris' curls. He'd drink their wounds before he let any more blood spill. Take it all for himself, his parts and their cursed padding from death.
The metal slipped under his fingers once as he gripped onto the window digging into his back. Something felt cold under his shirt but it was too solid to be sweat. Too lifeless to be blood. He'd be fine, he decided.
"Ramon?" Helena called out for the fourth time in the five minutes he'd been awake, "Ramon, wake up, please! Buck, you have to get him first, you have to save him first."
Buck exhaled and felt his breath against her head but she was craning towards the front, trying to check on her husband.
"Ramon, talk to me!"
There was a memory somewhere, too fuzzy to be real, but from some nightmare that Buck had slept through. The words were familiar but the voice wasn't. He'd never heard someone fear for him, not like this. He'd remember that.
"Okay, new plan," he said, pushing himself further into the metal digging into his back so he could get some leverage to hold Helena steady, "I'm going to get you up, you're going to check on Mr. Diaz while I try to get us an opening out of here."
Helena nodded quick but then perked against him like she had just remembered that this wasn't a simulation.
"Wait, Eddie! Eddie and - God, Chris -"
"I'll get them, I'll get them both," he promised, to her and himself and whoever hated them enough to make this day happen, "And Eddie is - he's smart, he'll make sure they're fine."
He'd never told Eddie what had happened in the back of an engine all those years ago, with Eddie's blood staining his hands. How Eddie had made sure he was fine before letting go.
He wasn't sure how he'd say that without cracking, spilling all his anger and gratitude like ichor right over Eddie's kitchen island. He'd stain them all, the kitchen where Eddie and Chris sat everyday. He couldn't do that to them.
But he could do this. Something physical, something that only hurt his bones and pulled at his nerves. He could give his strength where he couldn't take Eddie's understanding of the terrible caterpillar of fear that had gotten stuck in its cocoon for three decades now. He'd feed on today's misery later.
It took some maneuvering but Helena was alert now and she didn't have any clear injuries from Buck's quick catalogue. They worked together, her feet pressing over his shoes hard when she dragged herself forward. She wouldn't break his toe, he could take it.
It wouldn't matter anyway.
He pulled himself up and heard something rip at his back, felt heat trickle down his shoulder when he was free from the metal behind. Looked down at his hands once to check for blood and thankfully it was just his own. Minimal. Not enough to worry anyone.
"Call 9-1-1," he said again as he saw Helena shut her eyes in relief against the headrest of the seat ahead, her fingers stretching to rest on her husband's pulse, "I'm gonna try climbing out first. Keep your head away from the window."
He heard her calling halfway through his attempt at climbing out onto the road through the back. The rain hit him cold when he finally stepped back on solid ground and Buck remembered why the tree had fallen in the first place.
Right. Sophia's in-laws' house. One last visit before they left for L.A. and hopefully didn't come back for another year.
Eddie hadn't wanted to go. Chris had wanted to say goodbye. Buck had cajoled Eddie into going.
He'd thought it would win them some favor from Eddie's parents. Especially after they had taken his arrival at Texas five days ago.
He had hoped to - well, it didn't matter.
"They'll be here in ten minutes," Helena said when they were all out, breathless as she fought to keep panic at bay, her eyes checking Ramon's face every ten seconds, "Eddie, you have to -"
"You've got him?" Buck checked once as he assessed how alert she was but she nodded firmly, eyes sharp as she looked back.
"Go"
He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't. Patients lied all the time and he remembered how Eddie would hide his own injuries in the past. He shouldn't trust her word, not when Ramon was still unconscious but lying with his head on her lap. On the street with Ramon's jacket covering their heads from the rain.
He should stay and keep watch over them till the promised help came to them.
He nodded once and left in the direction of where he'd last seen Eddie's car drive off the road.
If Eddie wasn't going to forgive him for leaving his family, Buck would take it. He'd take anything if it came from his alive mouth and from Christopher's tongue. He'd fear losing them later, once he'd gotten them back.