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"Captain Nash of Station 118 to dispatch, please notify the LA swift water rescue unit that conditions are not ideal. Water is choppy with irregular movement, and a thunderstorm is about to touch down near this location." Bobby chirps over the radio as they pull up to the harbor.
Just before sunset they received a call, someone bringing their boat in spotted a young girl hanging off one of the buoys in the harbor. Today had been pretty uneventful up until now, residential quarrels and minor fender benders gave the shift at least a little bit of life without being overbearing.
But this… this might be tricky.
The rolling sound of thunder in the distance snaps everyone's heads in its direction as they exit the engine, making it's incoming presence known. Rain paired with the already chilly temperature from the late winter already isn't the best, now there's even more reason to be concerned given there's water involved. It's been long since Buck last felt jittery about running calls during bad weather conditions, particularly thunderstorms. It's indifferent to him now; he's come a long way from that.
The sun has just landed fully on the south side of the horizon, peeking under the horizon as a mask of gray and blue seize the sky in it's absence. Everything looks like someone layered a deep monochrome, blue-tinted filter over their surroundings. It certainly wasn't one of the prettiest nights to be out running around.
It's cold. It's windy. It's soon to be a lot wetter than the ocean can provide. It's miserable.
But there it is.
Amidst the choppy, foam-coated surface of the water was a traffic buoy out in the harbor, teetering about 30 yards out between the main dock and the marina overhang. Attached to the buoy is a young girl no older than 7 or 8 years old, arms circled and clutching the steel.
The team makes their way out to the edge of the boat ramp, surveying the scene.
"Did dispatch give a name?" Buck chirps.
"Negative, a local boater phoned it in as he was coming back just before sunset. No one knows who she is, how she got there or how long." Bobby responds, hitching his radio back to the inner part of his uniform under his turnout coat.
"She's already been in there at least 20 minutes, probably longer. It's only going to get colder and this storm won't help us any." Chimney voices as he unwinds a security rope from one of the side compartments of the engine. "If we don't get to her soon her whole body will start shutting down. It doesn't take nearly as long to affect kids."
"I don't know how she's still conscious but she is, cap. She may already be going into shock." Hen chips in, working a medical bag over her shoulder.
A light crackle from Bobby's radio breaks the discussion altogether.
"Dispatch to Station 118. The closest water rescue crew is unavailable on another call locally, next one is 30 minutes out from your location. The police will also not deploy a boat unless there's serious imminent danger."
How is that even possible? It's Los Angeles for crying out loud, there's more than enough people here to warrant having multiple teams for situations like this.
"Understood, thank you… Please advise the secondary that we will do what we can here for now." Bobby voices, his arm dropping heavily to his side as he clicks off his radio. Looking around, he's met with the helpless faces of his own crew. Their best bet has just been taken away, the rug swept out from underneath them. Worst part is they can't just stand around forever divulging a new plan; they need to act methodically and fast if they want this rescue to succeed.
"What if.…what if one of us throws on a wetsuit and swims out there to her? We can get a vest on her and pull her in?" Buck asks, throwing a questionable look around the group, like he's egging someone on to back his idea up.
"A drysuit would be better for these conditions, but the water is too choppy and it's too dark even with the spotlight." Bobby presses, hands fidgeting at the realization of how limited they were at the moment, and he's expected to make a decision soon. "I can't risk letting one of you go out there like that."
"Unless someone suddenly knows how to lasso a wild buoy from here I don't think we have very many options. I think that's even a little out of league for Cowboy Diaz." Chimney quips with a teasing huff, turning to meet Eddie's eyes, who is acutely aware of the sudden attention the rest of the crew is throwing his way.
There's a beat of silence, urgency sizzling in the air but the weight of it almost too much pressure.
"I'll do it." Eddie's says, suddenly all too aware of the scrutinizing looks the rest of the team are showing him. "I have the most water rescue experience. I know what I'm doing."
"I can't let you go in the water-"
"What other choice do we have, Bobby?" Eddie demands, hands flailing between them. "Someone has to swim, we have no other way of getting to her anytime soon. We can't keep waiting for the other team."
The captain sighs as he looks around their surroundings and back out towards the water, the usually sure-footed leader of their team clearly at a loss. He knows it, he feels it, much like everyone else on site. That feeling of helplessness, the kind that makes you want to punt something in frustration. They experience it all the time with risky rescues, methods that seem unorthodox but are narrowly successful in the end, constantly reinventing what it means to be a first responder. Some calls certainly eclipse others in that regard, this a prime example of how something bad can turn objectively worse in a matter of moments. Bobby looks back and meets Eddie's disheartened gaze, a slight tilt of his head as he makes his next move.
"Can you make it?" He asks sternly but with a glimpse of uncertainty. Eddie pants ever so slightly as his brain continues to work on autopilot, hands fidgeting in front of his body like he's trying to reason with himself or anyone willing to listen with a war of gestures. He wavers his sight out towards the ever-bobbing buoy, watching how the waves slop over and foam caps form scattered across the surface of the water. The little girl is becoming less and less visible as the darkness sets in and dusk turns to night.
30 yards. 90 feet. Eddie's a baseball guy, it's the same distance between bases, he knows this. In actuality, it's not a very long stretch to make when you exclude the weather conditions; they can make any walk in the park a treacherous one. But in terms of range… it can't be that much different, right?
He lets out a deep, slightly shaky breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I can make it." Eddie's already walking towards the truck before Bobby has a chance to react, unlatching the suit compartment and thrusting the door open. He distantly hears Bobby's voice talking to the girl over the PA again, though he can't quite make out what he says before the speaker clicks back off.
"Hen, get started on the med tent for when we get this girl back on dry land. The ambulance will be on standby until we get clearance to transport. Buck, Chim, let's work on getting the winch set up. I'll grab Eddie what he needs… let's make this quick!"
Some minutes later, far too long for his liking, Eddie finds himself stood in the middle of the pop-up medical tent Hen has set up, full of supplies and blankets and anything you could ever think of needing just in an arms reach. The rest of the 118 worked on directing traffic for their rescue plan and making quick work of getting the pulley and winch set up while Eddie changed. It's taking impossibly long for them to get ready, every second fluttering by knowing it's one extra second he could already be in the water. If he didn't have Christopher more people would probably swear he has a death wish; scaling buildings without a safety harness or tether rope being the least of their concerns on most days.
Somehow it only crosses Eddie's mind now as to what he's wearing. He doesn't know how it didn't click sooner but now can't help but be reminded of the last time he wore this drysuit when the well collapsed. The disgustingly familiar red and black wrap around his uniform and skin like a vice, dancing on the side of uncomfortable and suddenly everything's making it harder to breathe. He exhales heavily with a huff, running a gloved hand through his hair, lightly pulling at the ends hoping the stimulation would get his mind back on track. He's just glad he's not going underground or inside anything this time.
"You ready?" His thoughts are interrupted when Bobby appears at the entrance of the tent. Eddie gives the captain a quick nod in respond, stepping out of the tent and they're walking side by side towards the dock.
"Alright, we're attaching you to this line that's direct to the truck's winch. If things go sideways we will pull you back in. Here, hook this on your harness." Bobby hands him the inflatable ring before continuing.
"Listen- No tank, no respirator. The flotation tube has a buckle on it. Just get out to her and secure the ring around her midsection, pull the drawstring to inflate it. Hook your carabiner through the buckle and we'll bring both of you back in together."
Bobby pauses for a moment, glancing out towards the buoy as they approach the dock. He points out to the water, Eddie following his line of sight.
"Wait for the current to move past before jumping in. We counted about 20 seconds between the bigger waves but the gusts keep it fluctuating. Just try and keep your head up and move toward her as straight as you can." Bobby's hands stop him before he can step onto the dock, cupping the balls of his shoulders.
"I'm not saying hurry, but… I need you in and out. Okay?" Eddie doesn't miss that same flash of uncertainty cross over the captain's face and he can only produce a nod in response, almost afraid that words wouldn't carry the same weight right now. He wonders if this is how Buck feels about the dad-ness side of Bobby.
"Got it, cap."
Any air Eddie had in his body before descending the dock ladder was completely knocked out of him the second he's in the water. It strikes like a softball to the chest, socking him right in the sternum, enough to make his nearly choke on the last breath he held in his airway.
Having lived in LA for the better part of a decade has taught him that even the city's winters are nowhere near as bad as the freezes in Texas, but it's certainly not Florida neither. The uniform underneath his drysuit does little to combat the shock factor that is the temperature of the water.
Even holding onto the metal frame of the ladder proves to be difficult as harsh ripples of water slosh into him, forcefully swaying his body back and forth. They've done water rescues before, mostly by boat, but this just might set a new record for most tedious.
He watches intently as the next big wave rolls through, turning his head one last time up towards his partners who are still stood up on the dock. Eddie and Buck share a look and nod, the gesture wishing them both good luck. Adverting his attention back to the water, he waits for Bobby's signal, almost immediately hearing the booming yell 'Now!' and then Eddie's moving, parting from the steel and meeting the open water.
Left stroke, right stroke, inhale.
Left stroke, right stroke, exhale.
What feels like minutes pass but Eddie doesn't feel like he's moving any closer than he was. It's only now that he's out in the open that Eddie realizes it's significantly harder to see when the next wave forms, no matter how far he cranes his head to the left in a glancing effort. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a mocking voice rings out "at least it's not a tsunami", the same thing he told Buck on the call where the bus plowed into the office building.
Eddie briefly wonders how the water would burn his eyes if not for the goggles, either from the salt or the freezing temperature, what's the difference? Even with the drysuit it's almost paralyzing, his breathing already heavy and labored and not from the exertion.
Keeping a trained gaze on the girl and the buoy becomes increasingly difficult now that he's away from higher ground, while they're both being vigorously bobbed up and down, visuals going in and out of sight. Kicking his feet in quick, hard strides as he makes his way in the direction of the reflective ever-moving yellow target that wavers in the black of the night; Eddie will take his blessings one at a time.
Between the icy water surrounding him, the hazy mist of the rain coating his goggles, and the way the waves act as unhelpful windshield wipers each time they rise and fall over his head prove to be challenging enough. Eddie anticipates the journey back (assuming he makes it to the buoy in the first place) will be notably easier since they'll be reeled back in.
Left stroke, right stroke, inhale.
Left stroke, right stroke, exhale.
Left stroke, right stroke, inhale.
Left stroke, right stroke, exhale.
Then it's there!
A particularly high and powerful waves passes just in the space in front of him, towering over in intimidation- a threatening manner. But it's only as it comes back down that Eddie finds himself bracing as it brings with it the very thing he's seeking.
Under better circumstances there might be humor found in how the tide consistently tried keeping Eddie and the buoy apart all of this time, but now it's decided to have it almost land on top of him as the water settles around them, no doubt soon to start back up again.
He's within reaching distance now and takes the chance, melding himself to the metal structure with a hand latching onto the ring at the bottom of the buoy. Now being closer he can visibly assess the girl. She's probably around 8 years old, skin stricken with a porcelain pale that borders on the most disgusting shade of lavender he's ever seen, terribly close to the same color as her shirt.
"Hi sweetheart, my name's Eddie. I know you're scared, but we're gonna make sure you're safe, okay?" Eddie reaches up a tentative hand towards the girl, who doesn't move even a little. Her eyes peer into his own with a frightening gaze. "What's your name?"
Silence. Her eyes open and unwavering, but nothing on her body suggests she's coherent. This is one of the few situations where comms are out of the question, where Eddie would usually radio back his findings to give Hen and the others information to prepare with. His hand reaches her left arm that's wrapped tightly around the basket of the buoy, small fingers enclosed tightly around the bottom ring. The skimmers covering Eddie's own hands prevent him from checking her pulse but thankfully she's breathing and alive. Vitals can wait until she's back on dry land.
Eddie knows under better circumstances he should probably buckle himself to the buoy in case a particularly good current came through to push him away, at least until he secures the victim. But here he fears it may do more harm than good. He almost got hit with it once, last thing he needs is getting toppled over on by a 400-pound turbulent metal structure with nowhere to go.
"I'm gonna get you off of here now. It's cold but my friends are waiting to help you, alright? Gonna get you nice and warm." The thought of 'maybe she's deaf' briefly crosses his mind. "If you can hear me, I need you to do me a favor. Alright?"
Eddie hopes if that's the case then maybe Buck could help out. He mentioned a few months back he was interested in learning ASL after the 118 rescued a non-verbal teenage boy from a house fire some months back. Perhaps he's been spending downtime learning a new trade.
Then, there's a nod. Faint, but clearly there.
"That's good, sweetheart. Stay with me, okay? We've gotta do this quickly." He's gifted with another one.
Firefighting 101: if the victim is conscious and aware, it's often best to tell them how and/or what you are going to do to help them, especially kids. No sudden, unexplained movements. Be clear and concise, show them that it's safe.
Eddie takes this chance to unlatch the flotation tube from the carabiner on the front of his harness. Pulling the short tether line from the underside of the harness, he reattaches it to himself through the buckle. He holds it up to show the young girl.
"I'm gonna put this around you, okay? It's like a pool floatie, it'll keep you safe. Like a big balloon. Might even feel like a hug." Gingerly and ever so carefully, he extracts each of her arms one by one from their death grip on the buoy to work the ring around her until it's secured at her waist. Meeting her distant gaze, he gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
"That's good! Gonna count to three now and it's gonna fill up, okay? One… two… three!" A pull of the drawstring brings the tube popping quickly to life, it's once wrinkled surface smoothing out as the pressurized interior stretches to accommodate to newfound space it's been given. The little girl shifts a bit as the front expands and pushes her body slightly away from the buoy, but surprisingly she doesn't panic.
"Good, good, you're doing great, sweetheart. One more thing, okay? I need you to put your arms around my neck and hold onto me. Then we'll be leaving, alright?" The expression Eddie gets in response screams apprehension, and he immediately follows it up, "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, but you've gotta trust me."
Now, Eddie knows better than to make promises in this line of work. Promises he has every intention of keeping but no real collateral to back it up. Absolutely anything could happen to make even the most well worked plans fall through. If he had to blame anyone or anything for the habit it'd be Buck, who was always making promises to the people they ran calls on, always reassuring, always setting a tone of ease.
"Alright, you ready? Let's get you to my friends so they can help." Eddie extends a hand out to her as invitation. She looks down warily, this time giving a light shake of her head. No.
It takes too much from him to steady himself against the rock of the current, body weakening against the cold and the movement and everything, His lungs already burn with a fire that feels impossibly worse than any amount of smoke could ever do damage with.
He's suffocating, drowning in the feeling of the ocean hauling his form around, pulling him left and right with every slosh, dragging him under and spouting him back up. A slight of tongue as the sea surrounds him again, and again, and again. Like every wrong move seems completely disregarded, overlooked, gone practially unnoticed with the way the water crashes around him.
It briefly crosses Eddie's mind what it must look like from shore, to his friends that watch on defenseless. If they still have the engine's spotlight focused on him he couldn't see it. Releasing a shaky breath, his fingers secured around the metal ring tighten desperately, holding him in place to keep him from being moving too far away.
"Come on, I've got you. Please trust me. We're so close." Eddie pleads, watching as she hesitantly shifts her fingers in place over the bars. In one swift and nearly unprepared motion, her left hand meets his right shoulder just before the rest of her comes with, arms wrapping tightly around the back of Eddie's neck. He runs a gentle, calming hand over her back.
"There you go, it's okay. We're gonna go now, hold on tight." With what power he has against the churning water, Eddie turns back to look towards the banking where the spotlight emulates from the engine. He raises his right arm in signal, waving it side to side. "Okay, Cap! We're ready!"
Eddie can see the faint vision of the glowing white light as he turns his head towards shore, just as someone passes across the beam of the spotlight, hopefully movement indicating that they saw his motion. That question is quickly answered when he feels the long tether line from the winch go taut. Readjusting his arm arm the girl, Eddie only focus now is keeping her above water as much as possibly as they're reeled in.
With his back to the shore, it's difficult for Eddie to gauge how far in they've made it. He can use the sight of the buoy shrink and grow hazy from where he's facing out into the harbor.
"Cap, I don't like how much noise this thing is making." Buck warns, looking down at the winch as it retracts the safety line back into the reel. Bobby tilts his head to the front bumper of the engine, listening to the familiar whirring mixed with a clicking, then follows the sight of the line out to where red and black and purple are being drawn through the water.
"It should be fine. Just keep it steady and don't pull in so ha-"
Whoosh…
The captain and Buck watch as the winch completely seizes, line going taut where it extends out into the water, cable visibly vibrating from the force of the sudden stop.
"The winch locked up!" Buck immediately goes to grab the cable by hand and pulls, gaining almost no grip whatsoever. Before he really thinks about what he's doing, he releases the line to make work of shucking his gloves off before grabbing the cable again, the tread digging patterns into his palm as he attempts to bring the pair in himself, the captain getting behind him as they move to pull it the line.
"Chim, help!" Bobby huffs, Their now just reeling in the weight of both Eddie and the girl.
Snap!
Before Chimney makes it over to the pair, the line creaks loudly and immediately goes zipping out of their hands. The line goes cascading out of their reach before disappearing into the dark water at the end of the boat ramp.
Bobby turns to check the mount, which is still intact, and what remains of the line is still in motion on the roller bar with the frayed end of steel cable tumbling over and over.
Buck takes a sharp inhale of breath as his thumb flares with a searing white hot where the cable just skimmed across his palm and skin. The sight of blood hardly phases him, refocusing his gaze out towards the water.
"Eddie!"
Everything suddenly falls to a stop.
Eddie turns his head back towards the shore, close enough now to hear faint commotion amongst the teams. Something's not right. Reaching back, he grabs the tether line; completely slacked.
Looking around he sees they're still a decent distance away from land where the engine was parked, but marginally closer to the dock. Probably about 15 yards from shore, 10 yards from the dock if Eddie cared about statistics in this moment, which he doesn't.
30 feet was still a lot of ground - well, water - to make up when you're being pushed and pulled and thrown and shoved every which way. They're simply human pinballs trapped inside this hellish marina water that is the machine.
Instinctively, Eddie starts kicking their way in the direction of the dock. He's been in the water for what seems like an eternity at this point, amateur compared to what this poor girl has been exposed to.
"I don't know what happened, it shouldn't have snapped like that!" Buck tries to keep his voice on the low end of panic
"It must've had too much tension on the line, pressured by the buckle." Chimney suggests as he immediately runs to the side of the engine, flinging a compartment door open.
"Don't worry about that now. Eddie's moving towards the dock. Chim, take one of the safety lines and you and Buck meet him out there and toss it to him. I'll advise Hen what's going on so she can relay to Cedars. We need them out of the water now!" Bobby instructs, motioning his arm out towards the dock as he side steps his way toward the med tent.
The one thankful thing to come out of the entire call is that the current is pushing inward towards the shore rather than out into the open harbor. A small miracle as notable as it is.
"Eddie! We're right behind you on the dock! We're going to throw you a rope and we'll pull you to us." Chimney shouts, hoping Eddie can even heard him over the water's movement and the pelting rain. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah!" Eddie manages to turn his body enough to the side and produce a shaky thumbs up towards Buck and Chimney before returning his attention to the girl. "Okay, listen to me. I've gotta let go for a second but you're not going anywhere. Just keep holding onto me, alright? Just like that…"
He watches as one of his partners, not sure which, unwinds the new line and plants their feet into the wooden boards, positioning themselves as best they can against the wet-slick boards of the dock.
First attempt, it lands off kilter, too far his right side. Second attempt, just shy of his body. Third attempt, right on the money.
Eddie makes quick work of clutching the rope between both hands, wrapping it a handful of time around his wrist and forearm before gently tugging the line to indicate he's ready.
10 yards becomes seven yards, seven becomes four, which doesn't seem like a whole lot but it's a tall task under these conditions, where there's an endless amount of freezing, rabid waves trying to take you with it.
Three…
Two…
One…
They've reached the dock.
Eddie feels hands patting over and around his shoulders, a faint 'click' sounding before the girl is being lifted out of his arms as the carabiner is released. The same hands come back and fingers wrap under the straps of his harness and he's being pulled from the water.
“Eddie,” The familiar voice of Buck is suddenly in front of him, kneeled carelessly on the wet boards of the dock in his turnout pants that are not completely waterproof. It only occurs to Eddie now that the rain has stopped. He wonders if the unwelcome clouds still loom overhead, but he's only met with the sense of how tired he is, far too out to even want to lift his head to check. He does, however, reach up to tug with skull cap off of his head, releasing his hair to fall down across his forehead freely.
"Are you alright?” Chim speaks, making quick work to unbuckle Eddie's harness and life vest. Eddie turns his head just in time to see Hen disappearing into the medical tent with an armful of the young girl, presumably to stabilize her until they're authorized to transport. Buck's hand on his shoulder tightens and shakes him lightly, forcing him to focus his attention back on his partners.
"I'm fine, not hurt. Jus… cold."
“Come on, let's get you warmed up." Between Buck and Chim they manage to stiffly get Eddie off the dock and walking, who does so with a teeth chattering groan. If it wasn't for Buck being there, arm secure around his waist to help hold him up and the weight of Chimney's hand on his shoulder for balance, Eddie's certain he would've ended up on the ground again by now. Just as the thought passes through his mind, his feet catch underneath him and his stumbles ever so slightly. He feels Buck sigh where they're pressed together side by side, squeezing him tighter and steering them toward the tent.
They're met at the end of the dock by Bobby, who's ushering a warming blanket around Eddie's shoulders before his feet ever meet solid ground.
"That totally wasn't one of the scariest things we've ever tried," The captain voices, sparking light huffs and relieved laughs from both Buck and Chimney. "Glad to see it paid off, even if it's the last time."
Eddie manages a weak smile as he's shuffled towards the trucks, the sound of Bobby over the PA ringing off the edges of the surrounding buildings. Buck and Chim make decent work of maneuvering him forward until they're standing at the back of the engine. Eddie feels a pang of guilt, maybe even embarrassment when he realizes he's leaning most of his weight into Buck, who doesn’t seem to mind as they stumble their way over and away from the mist-blasting shoreline of the harbor. Leaning him back against the, Eddie just lofts his head back to rest against the steel door as his mouth falls open, the first deep breath he's taken since being dragged from the harbor. Chim's hand grabs Buck's shoulder as he offloads Eddie.
"I'm gonna check in with Hen and the girl. I know you tend to panic when one of your Diaz boys even turns the wrong way, so… think you handle him by yourself, Buckley?" Buck can't help the incredulous look that crosses his face, giving his brother-in-law a snarky but playful gaze.
"That's real cute." Buck quips, which has Chimney producing a painstakingly ignorant toothy smile before he makes his way towards the tent, disappearing through the army green flap of the entrance.
A ragged cough next to him has Buck returning his attention back to Eddie. He notices now that they're face-to-face how ghostly he looks. Buck knows it's completely normal for skin to react that way to cold weather, cold water, but it's still a bit numbing to see visually. There was a similar view after the well collapse; Eddie clambering his exhausted body up onto the banking of the pond, dragging himself over to the rest of the group and literally crumbling to the ground, skin white as a sheet with red-rimmed eyes to accompany it.
Buck sees more than hears the shallow 'I'm good' Eddie mutters when he catches his eyes where he's still propped up against the truck. Buck thinks Eddie probably appreciates the quietness, the unspoken words between them that will inevitably come out later when one of them is a lot warmer, healthier-looking and the other has passed his sense of worry.
His thoughts are interrupted by Bobby approaching them with a bit of hustle in his step, clearly running around trying to wrap up this mission so they can head out as soon as possible.
"We'll have to wait till we're back at the station to get the winch fixed. Hen said to get him out of the drysuit. We've got hoodies on the truck he can put on, just get him out of everything that's wet." Buck doesn't miss the sense of urgency in Bobby's voice, immediately nodding as the captain runs back off, muttering a quiet 'stay here' to Eddie as he rounds the engine and opens the door to the cabin.
Sporting a much warmer, dryer set of clothes now is a virtue Eddie much appreciates in this moment; a thick cotton LAFD hoodie and his turnout pants overtop their usual uniform. Despite all of the sloshing and thrashing the water had done to them, the drysuit thankfully didn't let any seep underneath. Eddie supposes it served its purpose well, his navy button up and pants left completely untouched.
"Here, take those off and put these on." Buck instructs with a gentle tone, pointing to the rubber skimmers still covering Eddie's hands as he holds out a pair of safety gloves to him. Eddie finds pinching and pulling at the fingers of the slick-coated material proves to be a nearly impossible task. He can't help but huff in frustration as he makes work of tugging them off, hands shaky enough on their own while having grown cold and stiff. They're flushed a light purple as they meet the chilly, damp air.
Every detail of training Eddie received as a paramedic rattles around chaotically in his brain at the sight of the coloration, an alarm bell sounding at a significant volume. He quickly pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind as he brings the safety gloves over his fingers.
Through his clouded mind Eddie still picks up how Buck's trying hard to not show his helplessness as he hovers nearby, unsure of how much he can do without overstepping or making Eddie feel vulnerable, like a child. But curse Buck for wanting his best friend to not die of hypothermia, or pneumonia, or something objectively worse that this could turn into.
"I'll be fine, Buck. I feel fine." The reassurance does little to ease Buck's mind, Eddie notices the look of concern on Buck's face barely flinch from where he's seated on the bumper of the engine. His consolation falls flat as he’s met with another bone-shaking tremor that he's grateful he's leaning against the solid weight of the engine for so he doesn’t fall over. He's suddenly aware of the frigid, unforgiving coolness of the steel plate slowly seeping through both his pants and the bottoms of his turnout gear. Buck hums in acknowledgement as he continues to fidget with his own hands in front of him, fingers lightly at the red stripe along the inside of his thumb. Eddie hadn't noticed, thankfully.
"I know. Just… that was kinda scary."
Buck feels the need to say so much more but can't pick the right words. He thinks he could stand here for hours trying to wrack his brain of a coherent thought to describe how he feels. Systematically speaking, this call wasn't anywhere near as hectic or desperate as the well collapse, but it evoked the same feeling Buck had after the tunnel flooded and trapped Eddie underground, digging with his bare hands, screaming his best friend's name-
The duo of Chim and Bobby jogging back over to them interrupts his roaming thoughts.
"Sorry guys, we're gonna have to relocate you so we can move the engine." Bobby explains, eyeing the sight of Eddie still leaning back against the truck.
"Hen's got a sheet laid out on the ground outside the tent you can rest on. The grass is still damp but it shouldn't bleed through, it's better than nothing." Chim explains, thumbing over towards the set up.
Generally movement causes your body to create heat due to exertion of the muscles and the chemical conversions of energy, but it can also trigger irregularity in your organs as the body works to acclimate itself to the new condition if done too quickly. It can be tricky to handle and navigate in dangerous situations… kinda like this.
They get just feet from the tarp before things start souring. The feeling of a strong arm secured around his shoulder, hand cupping Eddie's upper left arm is not lost on him, but he feels everything moving in slow motion. Suddenly he's fighting to keep himself upright, much less moving forward. He feet feel like anchors with every step, the urge to double over and let the coughs he feels bumbling in his airway wrack his body. To just let it take him.
"I- I.. need to sit down." Eddie all but whines out, hoping his voice is even audible. He feels Buck's other hand come up to his right arm and he's quickly being helped down to the ground. Fingers are grabbing the blanket from his own grasp and pulling it impossibly tighter around his front.
"Hen!"
There's a moment of emptiness for Eddie. He's aware of the multiple pairs of hands flitting concernedly over his body but his mind plays everything with delay. Someone does something, he feels it, but it takes a minute for it to register why.
The first thing he reacts to in real time is the cool press of metal to his forehead.
"It's pretty low, 94.2°F. We'll need to keep an eye on that." Hen says, a look of pity in her eyes as her hand gently pats Eddie's shoulder before withdrawing; he didn't ever realize it was there.
"You with me?" Hen asks, earning a weak but apparent nod from the man in question. She stands back upright from where she was knelt beside him, gesturing a hand in Buck's direction while speaking, nothing that Eddie bothers to make out as he watches her turn to leave back toward the med tent.
Somewhere between the echoes of the PA, he hears someone else's voice, hears his name. The familiar cadence, despite only the two syllables, doesn't leave him guessing as to who. He flinches at the next touch, a hand, only slightly calloused, rests on the back of his sweaty neck, not heavy or smothering. Grounding. He could feel every single shiver that shook through his body but something about the weight of that hand makes everything stop, even if for just a moment.
"Buck-"
"Not now, just relax." Buck pleas, giving Eddie's neck a subtle squeeze before retracting, the heat from it dissipating just as quickly with it.
"How's the girl?" Eddie insists, never one to give in that easily, that much is obvious. Buck just sighs, moving from his crouched position in front of Eddie to sit beside him, thighs and knees making contact as he settled in place.
"Between Hen and Chim they're getting her stabilized until Cedars gives us the go. Hen says she's definitely going into shock but she's still responsive, so that's good as long as we keep her that way." Amidst all of the ache and disruptive shivers and fatigue, the feeling of relief finds Eddie in all of the right places. Thankful that their efforts paid off but also that a mission-gone-haywire turned out for the better in the end.
"You did really good, Eds." Buck tells him, tone soft.
"You would've done the same." Just take the damn compliment, Edmundo, Buck muses to himself silently.
The next few minutes are spent exchanging small talk, any and every topic being brought up. Buck's already a talkative person as it is but Eddie wonders if he's intentionally going overboard now to keep him conscious, because he's certain if Buck wasn't talking his ear off about his latest Google rabbit hole that he'd be planted face down on this tarp fast asleep.
Hen eventually makes her way back over to the pair, once again pressing the thermometer to his temple without a word.
"It's the same it was 10 minutes ago, Hen."
"Actually, it's down to 93.6°F… you should ride with her in the ambulance, Eddie, go get checked over." Hen requests with a lightness but genuine concern in her voice. He instantly regrets turning his gaze over to Buck, who's sporting more or less the same look.
"Just don't bully me onto a stretcher. I can walk."
"Hmm, no promises." Hen tuts. "You're lucky the ambulance only fits one." Hen tuts teasingly before leaving once more, giving the two of them some privacy.
Neither say much else after that though. Eddie takes the time to inspect the chapped skin across his knuckles, having been nearly stripped despite the skimmer gloves. Buck looks around at the scene as the crew and harbor masters move around the vicinity. It’s eerily quiet, save for the distant chatter and the clank of equipment being moved around.
“I’m a mess.” It’s a quiet, broken confession, just barely audible through the shaky cracks in Eddie's voice. There's a half laugh lacing it as it escapes his mouth to soften it's landing. All the traces of his body willing itself to function properly come bleeding through. He’s just too tired.
“You just bobbed in freezing cold water for 15 minutes while being pelted by rain, I think you can have that excuse.” Buck murmurs, tongue darting out across his own lips to relieve the dry, cracked texture.
Buck's not met with an argument, or another self-loathing comment. In fact, Eddie says absolutely nothing, not even a hum or sound to convey a reaction. Instead, Buck is met by the heavy pressure of a head resting on his shoulder.
Buck can't think of anything to say, nothing fits in place. So naturally, he says the only thing he feels.
"We've got you."
"…yeah."
"Cedars gave the all clear, let's get rolling! Hen's going with the girl and Eddie in the ambulance. Buck and Chim, we need you to help collect the equipment." Bobby voices as he opens a compartment door himself to make room for the med boxes in the tent. "We'll meet you there, Hen."
"Got it, cap." Hen gives a sharp nod before helping Buck maneuver Eddie, who insists the whole way there that he doesn't need help walking. Chimney waltzes past with a couple of boxes in hand, throwing a half-sarcastic, half-genuine remark their way as he heads toward the engine.
As they get him settled on the bench inside, something catches Hen's eye from where Buck's hand supports Eddie as he climbed into the cabin.
"Buck?" The man in question turns to see Hen not looking at him in particularly, but his hand. It's only now thanks to the lighting from the ambulance that Hen notices to stark crimson along Buck's thumb, trailing down the inside of his wrist.
"Let me check that real quick," Before Buck gets the chance to respond she's already grabbing and cradling his wrist between her own hands, inspecting it herself. Her fingertips softly prod the area around the cut.
"Doesn't look very deep. I can wrap it and then we'll head out." Hen explains, but Buck beats her to the jump this time before she can move to grab her bag.
"No- it's fine, I'll get it taken care of at the hospital. Or I'll do it myself on the way. You go with them." Buck insists, nodding towards the ambulance, gently ushering her towards it with his uninjured hand on her back.
The engine pulls to a stop inside the roundabout just outside of the ER. The ambulance was ahead of them by nearly an hour, one of the cons of having to stay behind and deal with clean up at the site. Though it's not everyday that one of your own is the one in transport.
Before they even get the doors of the cabin open to jump out, Bobby is already turning around in his seat, eyes trained on Buck, who stops his movements instantly.
"Go find Eddie, we'll be in the call room." Bobby nods to him, giving him all of the encouragement to go. Not that he really needed it since that's been the only thing on his mind since they left the harbor. He shares a look with Chimney before his feet are out and carrying him as quick as they can towards the entrance.
He recognizes the young receptionist behind the desk from many of there late night runs, much like tonight. Denise? Deonna? She greets him with a warm, tired smile as he approaches.
"Hey, I'm looking for Diaz. He came in about an hour ago with a little girl, hypothermia case?" Buck would be lying if he said the look of ease she gives him didn't make him feel better.
"I think he might be in the surgeon's lounge in Wing B. I don't think he was admitted, but they did send him that way to get set up with something." His feet are already in motion before his brain registers he's moving, muttering a soft 'thank you' as he jogs down the hall. If he were a saner man he'd rather not look so desperate in his quest to relocate his partner, but the hell with dignity at the moment.
And much to Buck's satisfaction, Eddie is exactly where the reception said he might be. The private lounge behind the OR trauma center is completely empty all except for the lone firefighter who is laying on his side across one of the sofas arranged around the small room. Aside from the IV and the rolling cart it's attached to next to Eddie's head, a lightweight bed sheet bunched around his legs matched with the warming blanket still barely hanging around his shoulders, he looks as normal as could be. It wasn't unusual for them to crash on the hospital sofas or lounges after long calls where the team is stuck there doing paperwork. Bobby would sometimes put them offline for a bit to recharge while they waited for everything to be filed or take the opportunity to stock up on supplies while they were here.
Eddie's eyes flutter open as Buck steps into the room, clearly sensing someone's presence joining him, squirming a bit in place as he adjusts his position so he's leaning with his back propped against the corner of the sofa, seated a bit more upright. It's so quiet in here, Buck observes, almost too quiet. He notices the awareness spread over Eddie's face as he recognizes who's in front of him, eyes lighting up a bit in what Buck thinks, hopes, is ease.
"Hey, how are you feeling now?" Buck immediately asks without hesitation, not waiting to see if Eddie is even coherent enough to understand what he's saying. A rewarding weak but gentle smile from Eddie replaces any doubt that might have existed about that.
"Cold. But also warm. Nurse just dropped this off." Eddie knocks his hand against the pole as indication. "Should help soon."
Buck watches the IV bag jiggle then sway back and forth on the hook. There's almost a calming effect to it, sickening that they're here in the first place but also grateful that it's being taken care of, now that Eddie's no longer basking defenseless in choppy, freezing cold Pacific waters with a poor, violently-shaking child hanging around his neck while they await another rescue mission.
Now that Eddie's no longer 50 feet underground smothered in sludgy mud and icy water with minimal light having flashback after flashback after flashback about how his life and the ones he loves and that he may not make it back out with a beating heart and-
"Sooo… what'd they say?" Buck pushes, sliding one of the chairs closest to them over before seating himself beside the sofa. There's a hospital in Long Beach they delivered to once where all of the chairs were bolted in place to the floor or wall, which Buck thinks is diabolical; he pities the poor cleaning crew that has to navigate that mess every day.
The slow blink Eddie gives him in response to the question was evidence enough of how poorly the situation is teetering towards.
"Mild hypothermia. Gotta get my temp up to 96°F before they'll release me." Eddie reaches towards the side table next to them to grab the water cup waiting there, lifting it to his mouth. "Also got a little water in my lungs but not enough to keep me for treatment. Should clear up on its own in a few days."
"Your color does look a little better. And you sound a lot less… dead." Buck muses aloud, hoping maybe that might aid any worry Eddie might have floating around in his mind, but also the feeling of the word dead instantly burning on his tongue goes unignored.
"This thing helps a lot." Eddie answers, blinking towards the IV cart.
"I'm surprised they don't have you up in a room."
"It's LA, Buck. There's a lot of people. Also, I wasn't admitted, so they just stuck me in here for privacy. And technically you won't even have discharge papers to sign when they release me." Buck chooses to overlook the fact that Eddie assumed he would be the one signing the hypothetical discharge papers, instead fixating on the "I wasn't admitted" part.
"Isn't that kinda illegal? Like, they have to file the use of supplies without any records of there being a patient. That totally won't look suspicious."
"I won't kiss and tell." Eddie's eyes flutter with a small smirk crossing his face just as quickly as it disappears. It's a clear sign that the IV is serving it's purpose, running soundly through his bloodstream leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Silence fills the room, unspoken words left unsaid as they bask in the quiet privacy of the lounge. Buck takes notice of the subtle details around the room, how some of the blinds on the windows sit off-balanced, how the direction of every other tile on the floor runs perpendicular to the last. With Eddie's head resting back against the sofa, eyes closed, Buck assumes he's fallen asleep again. Good, he thinks, He needs it.
The lounge is oddly comforting despite the fact they're sitting in a hospital. It's well-lit, spacious, stylized for modern taste. Buck wants to hate it but the truth is there’s nothing about it to hate. He remembers when everyone quarantined at the loft, how they bragged about how great the lighting was there, how open and roomy it felt, not so crammed like other apartments or Airbnbs they looked at when trying to decide how to navigate the early months of the pandemic.
"What happened?" Buck turns to him at the sudden question to see Eddie's eyes opened lazily before Eddie weakly lifts a finger out towards Buck's own hand where it's sat in his lap. The gauze has already begun to show where blood has seeped through it's layers. It's likely stopped flowing by now. He lifts the hand up gingerly, wiggling his make-shift bandaged thumb that he tended to on the ride over to show Eddie.
That disgusting white, almost cream-colored pinstriped button up speckled with drops of his best friend's blood is one of nightmares.
"Are you hurt?" Eddie's voice is hoarse but Buck could care less in his panicked state, he's just glad it even exists right now. Looking down at himself Buck realizes what- or rather WHY he's asking, seeing the deep crimson dots splayed across the fabric on his shoulder and lapel.
"Uh… no, no. I'm good- hey, you just hang on." Begging, pleading, praying. A few minutes out from the hospital was WAY too long, setting everything into slow motion. Pressing on the wound, yelling over his shoulder to the driver to hurry, the other team's paramedic working an O2 mask over the man's face while trying to keep him awake as long as possible.
Buck's mind jogs back to his memories of the shooting, looming over Eddie in the cabin floor of the 133's engine. Even in the face of death Eddie still managed to ask how he was, if he'd gotten hurt or shot. Buck remembers being so certain that Eddie didn't even know what had happened to himself in that moment. And here he is yet again, lying in a hospital on an IV trying to keep his body functioning and he's asking Buck if he's okay. He also knows Eddie isn't trying to be funny or cute, and he likely doesn't even realize what he's asking now, the significance, but Buck can still appreciate the parallel in his own right.
"I- kinda knicked my hand when the winch snapped. It's nothing, didn't even need stitches." Buck insists, brushing his index finger over the white, stained fabric.
"I can tell you wrapped it."
"Hey, my wrap jobs are perfectly fine, Diaz!" Buck scolds in mock offense, huffing out a hushed laugh before his face goes slack, the sudden weight of his words registering. "I, uh… I don't know why the winch broke. Sure, it's been a minute since we used it but we service it all of the time, and test it to make sur-"
"Buck, it's not your fault. Stuff like that happens." Buck wants to argue but the rugged cough Eddie releases stops all of his momentum. He watches as Eddie reaches for the cup beside him on the dividing table, draining it. Buck immediately gets to his feet.
"I'll get you some more water." Buck tells him, moving to grab the empty cup from Eddie's hands before he could protest. "Get some more rest, I'll be right back." I want you home tonight.
By the time Buck had returned, delayed slightly after catching a quick conversation with someone from the 133 in the hallway, he finds that Eddie actually has fallen back asleep this time. He's worked himself back down onto the sofa from his half-seated position, mimicking how he was when Buck first arrived.
He sets the cup back into place on the table before seating himself again, stretches out as his long legs cross where they're straightened out in front of the chair, hands and fingers interlocked as best they can in his lap. Within minutes he can feel himself starting to drift, the worry of the day slipping away as the end of the shift nears while they're still offline.
The shuffling of the IV cart stirs Buck from his doze, looking up to see a nurse has quietly made her way into the lounge. She lifts her gaze from where she's adjusting the nozzle on the pump when she notices Buck move.
"Sorry, just checking in." She smiles at him reassuringly, fishing something from her scrub pocket before resting a thermometer to Eddie's forehead, much like Hen had just a few hours ago.
The nurse's brows visibly furrow at the reading, turning again to read the level on the IV bag before jotting something down onto her notepad. Buck assumes it's probably information for the doctor.
"What is it?"
"His temp's 94.5°F now. A little elevated from earlier but still not there yet." She turns her head to catch Buck's gaze, noting the worried look he's now sporting. "Don't worry too much about it. The doctor should be back with him shortly when he's done with his rounds."
Her smile was enough to ease the initial layer of worry away from Buck's mind upon seeing her reaction. He watches as she makes her way back towards the door, mindful to not make more noise than needed as the door creaks open and closed again.
Buck adverts his attention for what feels like the millionth time back to Eddie. Seems kind of ironic, huh? His breathing nowhere near as labored as it was earlier. Buck decides to take that observation with good graces, one little victory at a time. He reaches out a tentative not-bloodied hand toward Eddie's own that sticks out from under the blanket where he's curled up on his side.
Buck's not really holding his hand like someone traditionally would. Instead his own is wrapped around the inside of Eddie's wrist, the light warming thump of his pulse jumping against Buck's palm. His index and middle finger rest against the middle of Eddie's own palm.
"Come on, baby." Buck mumbles, thumbing over the outside of Eddie's wrist, finger gliding soothingly over the dry, chapped skin. Just one more little victory.
The doctor does manage to make it in some time after 11 o'clock.
"Mr. Diaz, your temperature is still not where I hoped it would be by now." Doctor Eckland explains. "We're gonna check in every 45 minutes to see if there's any change. It's moving… just not that fast, which can be a good thing. We'll keep with the IV for now before making any decisions about whether you need to stay the night or not. Until then, just make yourself comfortable."
Buck turns to meet Eddie's gaze, who's completely sat upright now, back fitting against the plush front of the sofa with the blanket laid over his legs.
"Listen, I'll go back to the station with everyone and get our bags. I'll take you home in the Jeep when you get released, whenever that is. Your truck can stay there for now." Buck assures him.
"Can you call Carla for me?"
"Yes, I'll call her."
Eddie doesn’t sleep during the drive home after he's released but he does spend most of it with his eyes lidded, head relaxed back against the headrest. Occasionally he opens them to look out of the window, gauge how much closer they're getting as he watches the streets of LA whizzing. The adrenaline has completely worn off by now, leaving a dull ache gripping his body in its wake. Despite the palliative feeling of his body working to internally maintain itself, Eddie's still acutely aware of the careful glances Buck keeps making towards him throughout the drive.
Buck's grip on the steering wheel tightens each he sees Eddie's poor attempt to hide another shiver, still wrapped in the warming blanket despite the mellowed fever. Buck knows he's not asleep based on how fidgety his hands are where they rest in his lap, and he knows the last thing Eddie wants is someone fussing over him, doesn't want anyone saying anything about it but Buck knows that had it been him in Eddie’s place the roles would have been easily reversed.
The humming of the engine acts as white noise spreading through the silence of the Jeep. The wind can be heard rustling past the windows, the occasional drag of the tires gaining traction on the rain-dampened asphalt when Buck makes a turn. He usually opts for connecting his phone and playing music to combat the quietness, but he thinks it's hardly appropriate now. Not that he's particularly in the mood for a karaoke session anyway.
His lips are thin-lined, jaw clenched, and shoulders stiff where they're forced to plant back against the seat. Every glance over at Eddie keeps his nerves on edge, Eddie's head resting against the cool glass of the passenger window, eyes slipped shut.
But he's fine, Buck remembers. He's safe.
He wants to say something, anything, to convey to Eddie just how badly today could have ended up. Buck fears for the day he'd have to return to the Diaz household without Eddie and confront Chris, tell him that his father… God. He's already had to do that once, and Buck's certain next time won't treat them with such luck.
Buck's mind completely blanks after they turn onto the main road leading to Eddie's house. It isn't until he realizes the keys are sat securely in his hand that he realizes they've made it. Parked and all, so that's a scary thought.
He turns to look at Eddie just in time to see him peel his head from the window. Buck intently studies Eddie's face, whose expression lies tense and uncomfortable, but Buck watches as he exhales slowly and his whole body relaxes upon noticing where they were.
Buck decides to face fate and reaches a tentative hand over the center console and secures it delicately over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie's head turns to meet his gaze, albeit sluggishly as a nervous look meets a spacey one.
"Listen, I… I know we'll get you sorted out inside, but… I'm worried about you. You really scared us today."
Scared *me*, Nearly dips off the end of Buck's tongue.
Eddie ducks his head in silent apology, eyes fixating on the way his hands thumb over the corners of the blanket where they rest atop his thighs. There's no bite or harshness to Buck's words but it feels all the same despite the gentle tone, like a child being reprimanded for a wrongdoing. Even though none of what went wrong today was even remotely Eddie's own fault, the sting of Buck's admission weighs and settles over his heart. It's ironic how the burn makes Eddie feel the warmest he's felt since nightfall.
Before he gets the chance to formulate a response, Buck immediately follows up.
"You remember what you told me at the hospital after you were shot? When I came to pick you up?" Eddie gives him a curious look, silently asking Buck to continue, which he does.
"You told me I wasn't expendable. You said it because I told you I wished I'd been the one that got shot. Okay, so… I get a little ahead of myself sometimes. I act before I think about what I'm doing. I brush things off that I probably shouldn't because I feel they're unimportant, not worth my time… but the same goes for you, Eddie." Buck's hand slides off of Eddie's shoulder to move back over to his own lap. He exhales slowly as he contemplates his words, only now breaking away from Eddie's gaze to look through the windshield towards the house, but he keeps going.
"I used to think about what if something happened to one of us at the station. We'd throw a nice service, be memorialized by our friends and family, maybe hang their picture up on the wall to honor them. Everyone would be sad about it for awhile… but then, before you know it they'll be putting someone else right into that slot to fill the void. To replace them. " Buck pauses, returning his attention back until blue meet brown from opposite sides of the Jeep. Eddie was more focused on him now, clearly the subject having perked him up a bit from the ache of fatigue lacing his body.
Buck doesn't say anything else at first, lets the moment breathe. The expression on Eddie's face makes him almost expect to be scrutinized any second for the admission. To tell Buck he's overthinking things again, call him an idiot, tell him he's exaggerating the severity of the situation. Buck decides in that split second that he doesn't want to hear that right now, so he finishes.
"I just… I don't want you thinking that you can just… do whatever and everything be fine just because something worse hasn't happened yet. We're not invincible, and I know that's real rich coming from me, but Eds… if not for us, or Christopher, take care of yourself."
Oh.
Eddie doesn't even think he blinks, just ducks his head away again and releases a heavy sigh he didn't know he was holding. He feels the nasty twinge of his water-logged lungs when he does so, a subtle reminder of why exactly they're having this conversation.
But now it's his turn to reach a hand out to Buck, landing almost clumsily over the top of his forearm.
"Buck… I promise you. I will always be here. For Christopher. For you. For everyone." There we go with the promises again. And to Eddie it really feels as simple as that. He wants so badly to reassure Buck in this moment. He wants to convince him that this won't happen again, that any other calls gone wrong in the future will turn out just fine like all the rest. He also honestly wants to get this discussion over and done with so he can go crash in his own bed and sleep and see his kid and just be surrounded by his favorite people in a familiar space. Eddie thinks he's indulged Buck long enough.
"Let's head in, yeah?"
It takes nearly everything in Buck's power to stop himself from helping Eddie out of the car. Eddie already has the passenger door swinging open by the time Buck makes his way around. Instead he opts for hovering off to the side, there just in case.
Before the door of the Jeep even has the chance to click shut, Eddie immediately makes work of shedding the blanket from his shoulders, bundling it into a small, half-folded heap in his arms.
"Hey, wait- uh, you should probably keep that on, right? At least for now."
"I'll be fine without it for a bit. Don't wanna scare Chris." Buck gives the side of Eddie's face a knowing look but promptly drops the matter, still keeping a hesitant demeanor.
Shuffling themselves inside away from the still damp and chilled air of the night, Buck doesn't even get the door closed behind them before they're met by a very concerned-looking Carla walking into the entryway. She greets them both with a wary but warm smile, pulling them both into a hug one at a time starting with Eddie.
"Oh, it's so good to see you." She whispers, the hold on him comforting as any remaining uncertainty about what returning home would be like leaves his body.
"Thank you for watching him. Sorry things ran so late."
"You're apologizing for being a big, saving hero and then getting proper medical attention?" Carla pulls back to give him a warning look, eyes big as her hands move to grasp his elbows. "Besides, me and the boy had fun catching up on the science project he forgot is due Friday. But that's beside the point, he's in the living room if you want to see him."
Eddie half pays attention to the conversation developing behind him between Buck and Carla as he immediately trudges his way towards the living room. He finds his son on the couch playing a game on his phone, face twitched in concentration. Eddie's sudden presence causes Chris to look up, his face instantly changing to one of delight, maybe relief.
"Dad!"
Eddie can't stop his movements as he sits next to his son and bring him into himself, face buried in the soft apple-scented curls.
"Hey, mijo, I think it's way past your bedtime." Eddie gently teases, cherishing the feeling of giggles reverberating against his shoulder in response. Chris is much less tolerant when it comes to affection now that he's become a teenager, still something Eddie wishes he didn't have to be reminded of. It's a challenge, no doubt.
"Carla said I wanted to see you." Chris's voice is still muffled against the soft fabric of the shirt Buck brought from his locker, the same one he wore to the station this morning.
"Yeah... me too."
Eddie makes himself comfortable in place with Chris leaning into his side as he tells his father about the newest level in his game that he can't seem to beat, which Eddie indulges for a bit. He figures they can discuss the school project tomorrow. For now, they can just relax.
In the other room, unbeknownst to Eddie, Buck has already set up the kettle on the stovetop while Carla gathers her bag together.
"You gonna be staying tonight, I assume?" Carla asks as she gathers her purse from the dining table.
"Yeah, that's… the plan." Buck finished with a bit of uncertainty lacing his words. He hadn't exactly asked Eddie if he could stay, even if he knows he's welcome any time. “Thank you for everything, by the way. You were the real hero today."
“Anytime, you know that, sweetie.” She pinches his cheek and Buck gives her a dopey smile in return.
"Send Eddie my love, and take good care of the boys." Carla says as she turns to leave, pausing to redirect her attention back to Buck. "Call me if you need anything."
-
"You should eat." Buck all but asks as he makes his way into the living room to join Eddie and Chris, cup of tea in hand before placing it onto the coffee table. The two remain in their earlier positions, except now the phone has been exchanged for some telenovela on the TV. Chris's head now rests on his father's shoulder as they watch the big screen.
"I can eat later. Just wanna sleep." Eddie argues from where his own head is rested back against the couch. Buck knows if he doesn't move soon they'll never make it to the bedroom, but Eddie continues.
"There's some leftover chicken empanadas abuela brought the other night in the fridge that you can have. Should be frozen dinners in the freezer if you want that instead, maybe some of those dino nuggets you always steal from Chris. Also, he already ate so it's all you. Or there's probably some takeout place open at this hour-"
"Okay, woah, chill out- First off, Carla already told me Chris ate. Also, I grabbed dinner from the station and ate on the way back to the hospital. Do you at least wanna take a shower? It'll warm you up, and get rid of the nasty seawater before you get in bed." Eddie doesn't even want to think about argue on whether or not Buck's being honest about already eating, but he does kinda want to tease him on how quickly he changed the subject. He refrains for now, far too tired to put much effort behind his argument even if he tried.
"I'll just go wash up with a hand towel 'till tomorrow. Gonna get changed, too." Eddie's arm squeezes his son to him, whispering a quiet "goodnight" into his curls paired with a light kiss pressed into the top of his head. Chris insists he's too old now for bedtime stories, even from Buck, so it's not something Eddie even worries about as he begrudgingly gets to his feet, wincing at the dull ache resonating throughout his body. He's quickly reminded of how today ended, not that it hasn't constantly been on his mind over the last number of hours, but the past half hour spent resting with his son after everything gave his mind some peace of mind even for a little while.
"At least take the tea with you and drink it." Buck requests, motioning towards the coffee table. "I'm gonna clean the kitchen up and get everything situated."
"I'm gonna help Buck." Chris declares, crutches already fitted under him as he makes his way past both of the men who watch him leave with fond expression across both of their faces. Before Buck has the chance to turn and direct Eddie towards the next task, Eddie beats him to it.
"You're staying, right?" Buck doesn't miss the wishful tone in Eddie's voice, at least that's what he hopes it is.
"Uh, yeah? I mean, if I'm allowed to and it's alright with Christopher. I don't wanna overstep-" Eddie hand wrapping around Buck's forearm halts his rambling before Eddie cuts him off.
"Buck, of course you're allowed to. Probably won't be great company for much longer but you're always welcome here." Buck considers arguing that he doesn't care what state Eddie's in, just being around is more than enough. He wants to argue that Eddie actually doesn't have a choice and he's staying regardless to make sure everything is okay, but Eddie speaks again. "You know where everything is, make yourself at home."
The gentle, warming smile Eddie gives him before dragging himself towards his bedroom calms Buck. The way Eddie's fingers lazily trail down his arm as he moves away leave a subtle singe across his skin. Eddie grabs the cup of tea from the coffee table and heads off towards his bedroom without another word.
Turns out, Chris's idea of "helping Buck" includes sitting at the dining table playing a game on his phone again in silence, something Buck thinks he should probably reprimand him about. If the circumstances were different he definitely would, but everyone's had a long enough day as it is.
Buck ever so hyperaware of himself for keeping tabs on every new Eddie update, he's noticed how he's felt more relaxed since they arrived back home.
Home. Hmm.
He can feel himself pacing, not back and forth but instead he's checking and rechecking everything he's done since Eddie left his sight. He checks the stove, the burner is off, the kettle is set aside, the freezer door is shut, the thermostat is at a reasonable degree, the windows closed, the television is off, again and again and again and again-
"I'm gonna go get ready for bed now, Buck." Chris suddenly announces, cracking the silence as he twists himself to the side of the chair until he can get his crutches under him, clanking with every movement. It's an endearing sound Eddie openly finds comforting because it reminds him of his boy, and Buck has grown to love it just as much given how much time he spends in the Diaz household. And during visits at the station. And during public outings.
"Alright, superman. Call me if you need anything." Buck answers back, getting the last of the kitchenware set and drying. He moves to grab another dish towel from the hallway linen closet, already having soaked through the one in hand.
However, Buck choosing to check the thermostat for the nth time in the past 30 minutes surprisingly produces a different result this go around, but not with the display. When he enters the hallway he immediately notices how Eddie's bedroom door is cracked ever so slightly. Feet shuffle quietly across the linoleum floor until his hand meets the knob. Mindful of the achy creak it tends to make, he carefully pressed the door open and is immediately met with a sight.
Buck finds that Chris has crawled up onto the bed, draped around his father's back where Eddie's still lying on his side, back to the door. It's like a subconscious piggyback ride, except Chris's legs aren't really bracketing Eddie's, just his arm thrown over Eddie's shoulder and his small hand resting against his father's chest.
Buck rounds the bed so he can see both of their faces. He also notices the half empty mug of tea sitting on the nightstand, having likely grown cold by now. Chris looks up at him and catches his gaze, still awake, the complete opposite of his father who is already asleep if Buck can tell by the lines between Eddie's brows where they rest slightly furrowed. He watches as Chris matches his same curious expression Buck carries.
"Dad always hugs me when I don't feel good. I thought it would help…" The whispered admission melts Buck's heart. He gifts Chris a tender smile before reaching a hand forward, pressing the back of his fingers to Eddie's temple.
"Looks like your hug is working, superman. Dad's a lot warmer than he was." Buck can only hope the gentle smile he gives Chris eases the boy's worry. That's one of the magical things about kids. Sometimes they don't quite grasp what's going on around them, other times they understand everything to a perfection. Half of the time they overlook the greater picture, but the other half pick up on even the smallest, most insignificant details. Eddie usually did his best to shield Chris from anything stressful or concerning so he wouldn't be anxious about things, but now… now it's hard to disguise, to conceal. Especially when Chris is so intuitive.
"Is Dad gonna be okay?" The question drags Buck out of his train of thought and he's not even sure why he does it, but he hesitates. Of course Eddie's going to be okay, why wouldn't he? Hypothermia-mild at that-is tame, complete amateur hour compared to some of the calls they've ran on where things didn't go their way, or what things could happened, has happened. They've definitely had far worse close calls.
Yet with every call like today, Buck is hauntingly reminded that he got one step too close to becoming someone's legal guardian. Which as a concept isn't all that scary, he loves Chris like his own as it is, but he'd much prefer a world where Eddie's still living in it.
Chris's big eyes still peer up at Buck from where his head is propped against the back of his father's shoulder, the same one Eddie still struggles sleeping on his right side because of. His glasses sit askew on his small face from the awkward position, and Buck is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to fix everything that's wrong in the world, turn the broken into the healed. But for now, he needs to make this right for Chris.
"Yeah, buddy. Dad's gonna be just fine."