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118 and Family 

Ravi: anyone free Friday? 

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Chimney: only ones single here are you and Buck 

Hen: rest of us have plans with our spouses 

Buck: ouch. 

Buck: salt in the wound hen 

Ravi: so are you in? 

Buck: will there be drinks? 

Ravi: duh 

Buck: for free?  

Ravi: reading is fundamental 

Buck: it hasn’t loaded, tyvm 

Bobby: you’re just agreeing to plans and don’t even know what they are? 

Buck: anythings better than sitting at home alone 🤷🏼‍♂️

Maddie lets out a soft sigh, setting her phone down on the table as she looks at Buck. “Well, that got super sad, super fast.”

Buck shrugs, locking his phone and focusing on his sandwich instead. “It’s whatever. Usually, I do something with Eddie and Chris on Valentine’s Day if I don’t have a date, but they’re not here, so…” He gestures vaguely before taking a bite, like that explains everything.

Maddie studies him for a moment, pushing her salad around with her fork. “Have you talked to him lately?”

He swallows before shaking his head. “We talked a few days ago. He’s busy. I get a check-in text once a day now, if that.” His voice is careful, controlled—like if he says it too plainly, the reality of it will hurt more. “Not like when he first left.”

Maddie frowns. “Buck—”

“I know.” He exhales sharply, pushing his plate away. “I need to move on.”

“That’s not what I was going to say at all.”

Buck scoffs, but it lacks any real bite. “Doesn’t make it any less true.” He leans back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “Eddie moved to Texas. He doesn’t know if he’s ever coming back. And I just happen to be in love with him.” A mirthless laugh escapes him. “There’s nothing I can do about it except try to move on.”

Maddie watches him carefully, quiet for a long beat. Then, softly, she says, “Or you could tell him.”

Buck lets out another scoff, shaking his head. “Yeah. Because that’d fix everything.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t fix anything,” Maddie admits. “But at least you wouldn’t be sitting here pretending like you’re okay when you’re clearly not.”

Buck doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for his drink, staring at it like it might hold the solution he’s looking for. “And if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same?”

Maddie shrugs. “Then at least you’ll know. And maybe that makes moving on a little easier.”

Buck presses his lips together, but the knot in his chest only seems to tighten. Because the real problem isn’t just the fear of Eddie not feeling the same.

It’s the fear that he does.

And that it still won’t change a damn thing.

***

Eddie stood in the rain outside his house, the U-Haul hitched to his truck packed with everything he owned. The streetlights cast a dim glow over the pavement, reflecting off the wet asphalt. He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep in his chest.

“Well—” he started, but Buck cut him off.

“Wait, hang on.” Buck was already jogging back to his own truck before Eddie could even get the words out.

Eddie watched him go, his brows furrowing in confusion. His grip tightened around the straps of his backpack, knuckles white. He had been preparing for this goodbye—had spent weeks convincing himself it would be fine. That Buck would be fine. That he would be fine.

But Buck had been different lately. Restless. Jittery. Like he wasn’t sure where to put all his energy. Eddie recognized that feeling all too well.

Buck returned, slightly breathless, holding out a gallon-sized Ziploc bag full of cookies like some kind of peace offering. “I made you a snack for the road.”

Eddie blinked down at it, then back up at Buck. Jesus Christ, Buck.

“Buck—”

“Just—just make sure you save some for Christopher.”

Eddie sighed, shaking his head, but took the bag anyway. Buck’s hands were steady, but his eyes weren’t. They were darting all over Eddie’s face, searching, pleading.

The silence between them felt heavier than the rain. He should say something. Something reassuring, something solid, something that would make this easier for both of them.

“I’m not going to be gone forever,” he finally settled on, his voice softer than before.

Buck sniffled, looking down at his shoes. “Yeah. I—I know.”

Eddie frowned. There was something about the way Buck said it—like he didn’t believe it. Like he’d heard it before and been proven wrong.

So Eddie stepped forward, just a little, like closing the space between them might fix this—whatever this was. “I mean it, Buck. Just a couple of weeks, a month or two at most. I’m going to talk to Christopher, and we’re going to come home.”

Home.

He saw it the second the word hit Buck. The way his breath caught, the way his shoulders hunched just a little, the way his fingers curled into fists in his pockets like he was holding something in.

“Okay,” Buck said, nodding. But it didn’t sound okay.

And then Buck did something reckless.

He hugged him.

Not the kind of hug they usually shared—the quick, brotherly pats on the back after a rough call, the relieved embraces after one of them narrowly escaped death yet again.

This was different.

This was goodbye.

Eddie felt himself stiffen for half a second before instinct took over, before he melted into the hug like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His arms tightened around Buck, gripping the back of his jacket like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

He wasn’t.

“I’m—I’m going to miss you,” Eddie murmured as he finally forced himself to step back.

Buck swallowed hard, blinking against the rain. “I’m going to miss you too.”

Eddie nodded, lingering for just a moment before he turned toward his truck. But as he reached for the door, he felt Buck move behind him, like something in him wasn’t ready yet either.

“Drive safe,” Buck said, voice quieter now, hands buried deep in his pockets.

Eddie glanced back, already half in the truck. “I will.”

“Uh—text me when you get to Texas.”

Eddie nodded, offering a small, lopsided smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

And then he climbed into the truck, shut the door, and turned the key.

As the engine rumbled to life, he risked one last glance in the rearview mirror.

Buck was still standing there, in the middle of the street, watching him go.

And something about it made Eddie’s chest ache.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like he was leaving part of himself behind.

“Eddie… Earth to Eddie.”

He blinks, shaking his head as he focuses back on the tangle of wires in front of him. The speaker isn’t going to hook itself up, and he’d rather be doing this than engaging in whatever conversation Adriana is determined to drag him into.

“I do not need you to set me up on a date, Adriana,” he mutters, securing a connection.

Adriana groans dramatically and flops onto the couch, tossing a decorative pillow at him. “Eddie, it’s Valentine’s! Of course you need a date.”

Eddie catches the pillow before it can knock over his screwdriver and glares at her. “I’m done dating, Adri.”

“Forever?” she gasps, clutching her chest like he just announced the world was ending.

He sighs, turning back to his work. “For… now. While I’m in Texas. Maybe when I get back to L.A.”

“But just—can you at least give my coworker a chance? She’s really nice.”

Eddie swallows hard, his fingers tightening around the wires.

“I can’t.”

Adriana sits up, eyes narrowing. “And why not?”

Because there’s only one person I want to spend Valentine’s—every day—with.

Eddie clenches his jaw, keeping that thought locked away. He’s spent enough time running in circles in his own head. He doesn’t need to say it out loud.

The two-day drive to El Paso had given him more than enough time to think. Too much time, really. Every mile put more distance between him and L.A., but it didn’t do anything to ease the ache in his chest. It only made it worse.

By the time he pulled into his parents' driveway, he’d already come to the only conclusion that made sense: He was in love with Buck.

That realization had hit him weeks before another, equally massive one—he wasn’t quite as straight as he once thought. In fact, he wasn’t straight at all. No confusion, no lingering doubts. He was fully, undeniably, irrevocably gay. And there wasn’t a single part of him that wanted to be with another woman ever again.

“Because…” he starts, then trails off, rubbing a hand over his face.

Adriana watches him carefully, her expression softer now, like she already knows what he’s about to say.

“Because you’re in love with your best friend?”

Eddie’s head snaps up. His heart nearly stops. “How did you—?”

Adriana smirks, crossing her arms. “Eddie, please. You think I haven’t noticed the way you talk about Buck? The way you light up whenever he texts? The way you look like someone just punched you in the gut every time you miss his call?”

Eddie exhales sharply, feeling the last of his resistance crumble.

He’s never said it out loud before. Not to himself. Not to anyone.

But maybe… maybe it’s time.

“I’m- I’m gay.” He breathes out, clutching his hands together to suppress the nerves. “So…yeah. You’re the first person I’ve said this out loud to.” 

Adriana's face softens instantly, her teasing smirk replaced with something much gentler. She doesn’t say anything right away, just watches him, like she’s making sure he’s okay before she speaks.

Eddie exhales shakily, his fingers tightening around each other. “So, yeah. That’s why I can’t go on a date with your coworker. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and honestly… I just don’t want to.”

Adriana tilts her head. “Because of Buck?”

Eddie swallows. “Because of Buck.”

Silence stretches between them for a moment, but it isn’t heavy. If anything, it feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, one he didn’t even realize he was carrying.

Adriana leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “So… what are you going to do about it?”

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know. What can I do? It’s not like I can just show up and tell him I’m in love with him.”

“Why not?”

He blinks at her. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She says. “What’s stopping you from going back?”

“Things are still- I need to fix things with Christopher before I can move back to LA. And even if things do work out, we’re going to have to wait until the end of the school year at this point.” 

“It’s 2025, Edmundo. Have you ever heard of a long distance relationship?” 

Eddie sinks further into himself. “That wouldn’t be fair to Buck.” 

“Who are you to make that decision for him?” 

Eddie stays silent. 

“You’re off this weekend, right?”

Eddie nods. 

“Go to LA,” Adriana suggests. 

“What?” 

Adriana rolls her eyes, sitting up straighter. “Go to L.A. See him. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Adri, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “Because you’re scared? Because you don’t know what he’ll say? Newsflash, Eddie, you’re already miserable without him. What do you have to lose?”

Eddie exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not just about me. Christopher—”

“Would want you to be happy.” She cuts him off before he can even finish the sentence. “And I know for a fact that he loves Buck. You think he’d be upset if you two actually got together?”

Eddie swallows hard. “It’s not that easy. I need to make sure Christopher is settled before I make any big decisions. I can’t just uproot him again.”

Adriana sighs, softening just a little. “I get that. I do. And I’m not saying you need to pack up and move tomorrow. But, Eddie, you’re torturing yourself by sitting here and pretending you don’t know what you want. Just go see him. Have a conversation. Let him be the one to decide if it’s fair or not.”

Eddie stares down at his hands, heart pounding. The idea of seeing Buck again—of standing in front of him and saying all the things he’s been too afraid to admit—terrifies him. But the idea of never saying them? That’s worse.

“I…” He trails off, exhaling sharply.

Adriana smirks knowingly. “You’re already thinking about it.”

He looks up, glaring half-heartedly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re in love with your best friend. We all have our flaws.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh despite himself.

She leans forward, resting a hand on his knee. “Go. If you get there and decide you’re not ready, fine. But at least give yourself the chance to figure it out.”

Eddie hesitates, but deep down, he already knows she’s right. He’s been running from this for too long.

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Adriana grins. “Good. And while you’re at it, maybe stop by a florist. Nothing says ‘I’m in love with you’ like a bouquet.”

Eddie groans, standing up. “Don’t push your luck.”

She just laughs, throwing a pillow at him. “Go get your man.”

***

Eddie has a plane ticket for Friday afternoon and a return ticket for Sunday. He hopes that’s enough time to get to LA and explain everything he needs to say to Buck—enough time for them to talk through everything.

But first, he needs to talk to Christopher.

Being in Texas for a month has made some things between them better. The space gave them room to breathe, to heal some of the wounds that had festered between them. But Eddie knows the hurt isn’t completely gone. He sees it in the way Chris hesitates sometimes, in the way he keeps a cautious distance when they talk about LA. There’s still something raw in his son’s eyes when Eddie catches him staring too long, like he’s waiting for another shoe to drop. And Eddie knows—knows—that some of that hurt is because of what happened before they left.

Chris still holds some animosity for walking in on Eddie with a woman who looked like his dead mother. Whether they were doing anything more than talking or not, it had been traumatic for him. Eddie can’t blame him for that. He still hates himself for not thinking ahead, for not realizing how much damage that moment would cause.

The drive home from school is quiet, the sound of Christopher shifting in his seat and the low hum of the radio filling the silence. Eddie grips the steering wheel a little tighter before he finally speaks.

“I’m going to go back to LA for the weekend,” he starts, keeping his tone as even as possible.

Chris mumbles an “Okay” as he buckles his seatbelt. “I’m going to Dylan’s house after the dance on Friday anyway.”

Eddie nearly does a double take. A dance. His kid is going to a school dance. When did that happen? When did Christopher get old enough for that?

He clears his throat. “Things—things might change… once I get back.”

Chris tilts his head slightly, looking out the window. “What do you mean?”

Eddie exhales, staring straight ahead at the road. “I—” He hesitates, struggling for the right words. “Just… things might change.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Chris speaks again, his voice careful but direct. “Is it because of Buck?”

Eddie nearly slams on the brakes. His pulse spikes as he forces himself to keep driving, to act normal even though his heart is hammering against his ribs. “What makes you say that?”

Chris shrugs, but when he turns to look at Eddie, his eyes are sharper than they should be for a twelve-year-old. “Because you’ve been sad since you got here, and at first, I thought it was because of me, but… we’ve talked about things.”

Eddie nods, throat tightening.

“And because you always talk about him. And because you keep staring at your phone like you’re waiting for a message from him.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Chris—”

“I—” Chris interrupts, but his voice is quieter now, smaller, more vulnerable. “I miss him.” He looks down at his hands, picking at the strap of his backpack. “Do you?”

Eddie grips the wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

Chris nods, like he’s been expecting that answer, but he still hesitates before his next question. “Do you… love him?”

Eddie exhales sharply. He looks over at Chris as they stop at a red light, the weight of the question settling between them. And then, finally, he lets himself say it out loud.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough but sure. “I really do.”

Chris studies him, processing the words. Then he frowns. “So, why’d you leave?”

Eddie lets out a humorless scoff. “Seriously? I had to.”

Chris doesn’t argue right away. Instead, he watches the scenery blur past outside the window before speaking again. “I regret it.”

Eddie stills, his hands tightening on the wheel.

“All the time,” Chris continues, voice even smaller than before. “I never—I never should have called them. I was just—I was hurt, Dad.”

The confession hits Eddie like a punch to the gut. His chest tightens, the weight of everything they haven’t said pressing down on him. This isn’t a conversation they should have while he’s driving, so he pulls into the nearest McDonald's parking lot and shifts the truck into park.

Chris keeps his gaze on his lap, fingers twisting together. “I don’t—I don’t know why I called them. Grandma and Grandpa. I guess—I just wanted to make you feel the way I felt… seeing that woman.”

Eddie inhales sharply. He closes his eyes for a brief second, processing the words. “I guess—I guess I can understand that.”

Chris bites his lip. “I didn’t think.I just… I just wanted you to hurt like I did.”

Eddie’s heart clenches. He reaches out, resting a gentle hand on Chris’s shoulder. “I did, buddy. I promise you, I did.”

Chris nods slowly. “Do you think Buck still wants you to come back?”

Eddie lets out a breath, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel. “I don’t know.”

Chris considers that for a moment, then looks up at him, eyes filled with something steadier now—hope, maybe. “I think he does.”

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah?”

Chris nods, more certain this time. “Yeah.”

And for the first time in a long time, Eddie lets himself believe it.

***

Buck feels more unmoored than he has in months. It’s like something has knocked him off balance, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. Maybe it’s the date, or maybe it’s the fact that everything today is reminding him of Eddie—more so than usual, more so than he can handle.

It starts small, little things piling up like debris in a flood. The way his coffee order got messed up this morning, leaving him with black coffee instead of the caramel-sweetened mix he’s grown used to—Eddie would have laughed and called him crazy for drinking something that sweet anyway. Then there was the song playing in the grocery store when he stopped in for a snack for later, the same stupid song that had been playing in the background the night they’d all gone out drinking after a long shift, Eddie rolling his eyes at Buck’s off-key singing but smiling anyway.

And now this.

“Alright, we’ve got to do this carefully,” Bobby says as they step into the auto shop. The scent of grease and burnt rubber lingers in the air, the sharp tang of motor oil thick around them. “Dispatch said that the hydraulics failed and the car fell on top of the mechanic. There’s no telling what we’re looking at until we get in there.”

Buck freezes for half a second, caught in the memory before he can stop himself.

The first time he ever worked a call with Eddie had been here. Same shop, different day. He remembers standing right over there, watching Eddie handle the situation with the kind of quiet confidence Buck had immediately envied. Eddie had been new to the 118 then, but he had stepped in like he belonged, like there was no other place he was supposed to be.

Just like there’s no other place Buck has ever wanted him to be.

He shakes the thought away and focuses, moving toward the car with the rest of the team.

Ravi’s kneeling beside the wreckage, checking for signs of life under the car. “I’ve got a pulse!” he calls out. “Weak but present!”

“Alright, let’s get this stabilized and lift,” Bobby orders. “Chim, grab the airbags. Hen, get ready to pull him out once we get clearance.”

Buck moves on instinct, working alongside Ravi as they position the airbags, hands moving in tandem. It’s easy, automatic, like muscle memory—like the way he used to move with Eddie.

“Alright, Eddie, can you—”

The second the name leaves his lips, Buck stops short, his stomach dropping as if he’s the one trapped under the car.

Silence stretches for a fraction of a second too long, the weight of it heavier than the wreckage they’re trying to lift.

Ravi looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh… what?”

Buck blinks. His mouth opens and closes before he forces out, “Ravi. I meant Ravi.”

He sees the flicker of understanding in Hen’s gaze before she pointedly doesn’t say anything.

No one says anything, really. But the air feels heavier, charged in a way that makes Buck’s skin itch.

They work in silence for the next few minutes, stabilizing the vehicle and lifting the weight off the mechanic. But Buck’s hands don’t feel steady anymore. His chest feels too tight, his pulse hammering in his ears.

He doesn’t know why today, of all days, feels like this.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe it’s because Eddie left, and Buck never really figured out how to fill the space he left behind.

Buck: Maddie 

Maddie: I know…Chim told me. 

Buck: What am I supposed to do? 

Maddie: not calling Ravi the wrong name would be a good place to start 

Buck: why do I even bother 

Maddie: call him! 

Buck: I will when I get off work 

Maddie: you’re not going to feel better until you do. 

Buck is starting to think the universe is playing some cruel trick on him.

Their next call is a beauty pageant gone wrong.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Buck mutters under his breath, barely resisting the urge to rub his hands down his face.

“What was that?” Ravi asks, stepping up beside him. 

“Nothing,” Buck sighs. 

He remembers the last time they responded to a call like this—years ago now, but still burned into his memory. That one had ended with half the team as the patients, thanks to an accidental dosing from that crazy lady with the reptiles. 

It had been a good day. A ridiculous, chaotic, completely insane day, but a good one. 

This doesn’t feel like that.

They step into the venue, and it’s exactly the kind of scene Buck expects. Rhinestones, tiaras, the heavy scent of hairspray clinging to the air. Parents are screaming, kids are crying, and in the center of it all, a judge is clutching his throat, gasping for breath.

“All right, let’s move!” Bobby orders, already stepping toward the man. Hen and Chimney follow close behind, their movements quick and efficient.

Buck snaps himself out of his thoughts and moves to help, grabbing the med bag as he kneels next to the judge. “Sir, can you hear me?”

The man wheezes, his face flushed red. Hen is already checking his airway, her expression focused. “Looks like an allergic reaction,” she says. “Anaphylaxis. We need to get him on oxygen and administer epinephrine now.”

Buck reaches for the epi-pen, hands steady out of habit, but his mind is still spinning. He can’t stop thinking about how the last time they were here, Eddie had been the one standing beside him, freaking out over being giants. 

The realization twists something deep in his chest.

He barely notices when the man starts breathing easier, the crisis mostly averted. But he does notice the way Chimney is looking at him. Like he knows. Like he sees right through whatever mask Buck is trying to put on today.

“You good?” Chim asks, voice low enough that no one else hears.

Buck exhales through his nose, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah. Just… déjà vu.”

Chimney hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

The rest of the call wraps up without incident, the judge stabilized and transported to the hospital. As they pack up their gear, Buck takes one last glance around the chaotic mess of the pageant.

The last time they were here, Eddie had been right beside him, laughing, teasing him about how ridiculous the whole thing was.

This time, Eddie is hundreds of miles away.

And for the first time since he left, Buck is starting to realize just how much that distance is getting to him.

“ This is Eddie, sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Hey, uh, Eddie. It’s me. I was just- I’m having a bad day. Anyway, uh, call me back when you get this. Okay, uh, bye.” 

Buck is trying. He really is.

After the whole beauty pageant disaster, he thought he’d gotten his head back in the game. Shoved all the Eddie-shaped thoughts to the back of his mind where they belonged. But now, standing in the middle of a chaotic scene with alarms blaring and smoke filling the air, he realizes just how wrong he was.

The call is at an office building—electrical fire in one of the units, fast-moving but mostly contained now. The team is sweeping the floors for any remaining residents while the smoke clears.

Buck and Ravi are checking the last office on the second floor when they hear it—faint coughing from the other side of the door.

“Someone’s in there,” Ravi says, already moving.

Buck doesn’t think, just acts. “All right, Eddie, cover me while I—”

The name is out before he can stop it.

Silence.

Even over the crackling of fire and the distant voices over the radio, Buck feels it. The pause, the shift in energy.

He freezes, his stomach plummeting, but he forces himself to keep moving. Pretend like it didn’t happen. Like his heart isn’t currently trying to climb up into his throat.

Ravi doesn’t say anything at first. He just gives Buck a look—one that’s way too perceptive for Buck’s liking—but then he shakes his head and kicks open the door.

They find a woman huddled in the corner, coughing, eyes wide with panic. Buck pushes everything else down and focuses, grabbing her arm gently. “Ma’am, we’ve got you. Let’s get you out of here.”

They lead her out, guiding her down the stairwell to safety. Once she’s in the hands of the paramedics, Buck finally allows himself to exhale.

And then, of course, Ravi has to say something.

“So…” Ravi starts, pulling off his helmet and wiping sweat from his forehead. “Eddie, huh?”

Buck groans, tipping his head back toward the sky like he can somehow escape this conversation. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Ravi lifts an eyebrow. “You sure? Because that’s twice now.”

Buck glares at him. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Right.” Ravi nods, but the smirk tugging at his lips says he’s definitely not going to let this go anytime soon.

Buck sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He feels exhausted, like he’s been running on fumes for weeks. Maybe he has. Maybe he’s been pretending everything’s fine for so long that he didn’t realize just how much it’s been weighing on him.

He glances down at his radio, at the empty silence where another voice—Eddie’s voice—used to be.

Yeah. He’s not okay.

And he doesn’t think he will be until he does something about it.

Buck: it happened again 

Maddie: you have the weekend off

Maddie: why don’t you go see him? 

Buck: I can’t just go to Texas? 

Maddie: why not? 

Maddie: I have miles you can use 

Buck hasn’t been able to shake the restlessness that’s been clinging to him all shift. It’s not just a bad mood or exhaustion—it’s something deeper, something gnawing at the edges of his focus. He’s been off his game all day, making small mistakes that he normally wouldn’t. Nothing catastrophic, nothing that would make Bobby pull him aside, but enough that he feels it.

He blames it on the last couple of calls. On how the universe seems determined to remind him of Eddie at every turn. The auto shop. The beauty pageant. His slip-ups with Ravi. It’s like fate is playing some cruel joke, rubbing salt into a wound he thought had scabbed over.

But the worst part? It’s not just the memories. It’s the ache beneath them, the realization that no matter how much time passes, he still feels like something’s missing.

He barely registers the next dispatch until Bobby’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Apartment fire, multiple people trapped,” Bobby reads from the radio. “Station 124 is already on scene, but they need backup for search and rescue. Let’s move.”

Buck shakes himself out of it, forcing his focus back on the job. This is what he’s good at. The one place where his brain shuts up long enough for him to just act.

They arrive to find the building already engulfed, flames licking at the upper floors while thick black smoke billows into the night sky. The scene is chaos—residents huddled together on the street, some coughing, some crying, others shouting for people still inside.

Bobby quickly divides them up. “Chim, Hen, start triaging the victims. Ravi, Buck, you’re with me—second floor. There are still reports of people unaccounted for. Let’s go.”

Buck nods sharply and follows, adrenaline surging through his veins as they enter the building. The heat is immediate, pressing in on them like a weight. Visibility is low, smoke curling through the hallways, but they move with practiced efficiency.

They clear the first few rooms quickly—empty, signs that people left in a hurry. But then Buck hears it.

A faint voice. Weak, somewhere deeper inside the apartment.

“In here!” he calls over his shoulder before pushing forward without waiting for a response.

“Buck—” Bobby’s warning comes too late.

Buck moves fast, faster than he probably should, navigating past collapsed furniture and debris. He finds a man slumped in the corner, barely conscious, the smoke clearly taking its toll.

“I’ve got you,” Buck says, voice steady despite the way his pulse is thrumming. He crouches, checking the man’s vitals before shifting to lift him. Buck is able to get the man out and hand him over to Bobby, stepping back in to do a sweep. 

And then he hears it.

A creak. A snap.

Before Buck can react, the ceiling above him groans under its own weight.

The last thing he registers is Bobby shouting his name before everything goes black.

***

Eddie doesn’t tell anyone that he’s coming back to LA for the weekend. He fully wants it to be a surprise.

So, while he’s gathering his bag from the luggage claim, he turns on his phone to order an Uber—only to be met with several missed calls and three voicemails from Buck.

His stomach tightens.

“That’s odd,” he mutters, clicking on the first voicemail.

"Hey, uh, Eddie. It’s me. I was just— I’m having a bad day. Anyway, uh, call me back when you get this. Okay, uh, bye."

The message came in right around the time his plane took off. Eddie frowns, a flicker of guilt creeping in. He should’ve told someone he was coming back. He should’ve told Buck.

Still, something about Buck’s voice sits wrong. There’s a hesitation there, an unease Eddie isn’t used to hearing from him.

He presses play on the second voicemail.

"Hey Eddie.."

Eddie pauses it almost immediately, sucking in a sharp breath. Buck’s voice—it’s different. Shaky. Broken.

Something is wrong.

His hands are clammy as he restarts the message, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Eddie, uh, it’s me. Again. You’re—you’re pr-probably busy. I j-just wanted to h-hear your voice o-one last t-time."

Eddie's knees nearly give out.

One last time?

His breath catches in his throat as Buck continues, his voice slurred, weaker than before.

"I fell. A couple of floors, m-maybe five? Uh—I c-can’t move my, my leg. Bobby, he uh, he said they’re coming to….get me. But…but that was a wh-while ago."

Eddie feels sick, like the airport terminal is closing in on him. His hands shake as he grips his phone tighter.

"I was...I was gonna come to...to Texas this weekend. There’s so...much I need-need to tell you, Eds."

The message cuts off and Eddie clicks on the last message. 

“S-sorry. I…Maddie called. Anyway, God Eddie. There’s so…so much I want to say. I sho-should have said it when you-you left. They never….left unsaid, Eddie…..love……tell Chris…” 

The message fades in and out until it cuts off completely. Eddie doesn’t realize he’s moving until he’s already outside, his bag forgotten somewhere behind him. His fingers are dialing before he can even think.

“Pick up, Buck,” he breathes. “Please, pick up.”

But the call goes straight to voicemail.

Eddie’s heart pounds so hard it drowns out the noise of the airport around him. He redials immediately, fingers shaking as he presses the phone to his ear.

Straight to voicemail.

“Buck,” he gasps, pacing frantically just outside the terminal. “Buck, if you can hear this, hold on. I’m here. I’m in LA. I’m coming.”

He doesn’t know where there is. Doesn’t know how long Buck has been waiting for someone to reach him. The thought makes his stomach churn.

He barely registers the confused look of the Uber driver when he throws himself into the backseat and barks out his address instead of a fire station. He needs his truck. Needs to get to the station, get to Bobby, find out where the hell Buck is.

The ride is a blur. His mind replays Buck’s message on a loop, every slurred word a new stab of fear in his chest.

"One last time."

No. No, no, no. He won’t accept that.

As soon as they pull up, he tosses a handful of bills at the driver and jumps out, running for his truck. His hands are barely steady enough to unlock it, and the moment the engine roars to life, he’s peeling out of the driveway.

Bobby answers on the second ring.

“Eddie?” His voice is surprised, but Eddie doesn’t have time for explanations.

“Where is he?” Eddie demands, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles go white.

There’s a pause. “Eddie, what—”

“Buck,” he snaps, voice sharp with barely restrained panic. “I got his messages. He said he fell, he said he couldn’t move.Where the hell is he?”

A sharp inhale on the other end. Then, “We’re working on getting to him now. He—he was on a call, in a high-rise downtown. The floor collapsed. He fell into the basement, we’ve been trying to—”

“I’m on my way.” Eddie doesn’t wait for a response before hanging up.

The city blurs past him as he speeds toward downtown, heart hammering, pulse roaring in his ears.

"I just wanted to hear your voice one last time."

No.

He won’t let that be the last thing Buck ever says to him.

Eddie weaves through traffic, barely aware of the angry honks and screeching tires in his wake. His focus narrows to one thing—getting to Buck.

The streets blur past him as he speeds toward the high-rise Bobby mentioned. The closer he gets, the harder his heart pounds. He can already see the flashing lights up ahead, fire trucks and ambulances crowding the block. Smoke and dust hang in the air like a storm just passed through.

He slams the truck into park and barely remembers shutting the door before he’s running toward the chaos.

“Diaz!” Bobby’s voice cuts through the noise, but Eddie doesn’t stop moving. He only slows when he sees the gaping hole in the building’s structure, the shattered glass, the team working frantically. “What- how are you here?” 

“Nevermind that. He’s still down there?” Eddie demands, chest heaving.

Bobby nods grimly. “Crews have been working on stabilizing the area before we send anyone in. The floor gave out from under him—”

“I know,” Eddie snaps, voice tight. He swallows hard, trying to keep the panic at bay. “How long?”

Bobby hesitates. “Over an hour.”

Eddie feels sick.

“We’re almost ready to go in,” Bobby continues. “We have to be careful—the structure’s weak. One wrong move and—”

“I’m going in.”

Bobby’s eyes widen. “Eddie I can’t authorize—”

“I have to.” His voice breaks. “He called me, Bobby. He thought—I can’t just stand here. I have to get to him.”

Bobby studies him for a long second before sighing heavily. “Fine. But we do this together.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for further instruction. He pulls on the gear someone hands him and follows Bobby toward the opening of the collapse site.

“Buck!” he shouts as they descend carefully into the wreckage. Dust and debris coat everything, the air thick with the smell of burning insulation and concrete.

There’s no answer.

Eddie’s pulse thrums violently against his skin. He scans the rubble, the jagged remains of what used to be a floor, searching for any sign of movement.

Then—

A faint, pained groan.

Eddie’s head snaps to the left.

“Buck?” His voice cracks as he picks his way forward, heart hammering.

Another groan, closer this time. Then, weakly—

“Eds…?”

Eddie nearly collapses with relief. “I’m here,” he breathes, moving faster now. “I’m right here, Buck.”

And then, finally, he sees him.

Buck is half-buried beneath a slab of concrete, his leg trapped at an unnatural angle. His face is streaked with blood and dirt, his eyes barely open—but when they land on Eddie, they light up with something Eddie can’t quite name.

“You actually—” Buck swallows thickly. “—came back.”

Eddie lets out a choked laugh, already dropping to his knees beside him. “Of course I did, you idiot.” His hands hover, unsure where to touch without hurting him more. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Buck’s lips twitch, but the pain is evident in his features. “Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head, blinking back the sting behind his eyes. “Don’t apologize. Just—just hold on, okay? We’re getting you out of here.”

Buck exhales shakily. “Okay.”

Eddie squeezes his hand tightly. “I got you.”

And this time, he’s not letting go.

***

When Buck comes to, the first thing he registers is that everything hurts. A deep, bone-deep kind of ache that tells him he’s definitely taken a beating. His head throbs in time with his pulse, and for a moment, all he can do is breathe through the pain.

Which makes sense—he hit his head. Hard. So hard, in fact, that he must be hallucinating, because there’s no way Eddie is actually here. It was probably Ravi again.

Then, a voice, soft and familiar.

“Hey,” it murmurs beside him. “Take it easy, baby.”

Baby?

That’s new. Ravi never calls him that.

Buck forces his heavy eyelids open, squinting through the haze. The world is blurry at first, but when it finally sharpens, his breath catches.

Eddie.

Sitting right in front of him, eyes full of something raw, something Buck can’t quite place. He looks exhausted, like he’s been through hell and back, but he’s here.

Buck blinks, his mind sluggish, his thoughts tangled. “Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut again. “How bad did I mess up my head?” He lets out a weak laugh. “Ravi, man, you’re looking like Eddie now.”

A hand—warm, solid—closes around his, grounding him.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice thick with something that makes Buck shiver. “It’s me.”

Buck hesitates before prying his eyes open again, peering at Eddie through the dull throbbing in his skull. “No way,” he breathes.

Eddie huffs out a short, choked laugh. “Yeah, way.”

Buck stares at him, trying to make sense of it. “But—you were in Texas.”

“I was,” Eddie says, his fingers tightening around Buck’s. “I came back.”

“How’d you get here so fast?” 

“I was already on a plane when you called.” Eddie’s laces his fingers with Buck’s and squeezes tightly. 

Buck swallows hard, the fog in his brain lifting just enough for the pieces to click together. His voicemails. The last-ditch effort to say things he never quite had the courage to before.

He suddenly feels sick.

“I—” His throat is dry, his mouth suddenly useless. He licks his lips, eyes darting away. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Eddie exhales sharply, but he doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand. If anything, he holds on even tighter.

“Tough luck,” Eddie murmurs, voice rough around the edges. “Because I did.”

Buck lets out a shuddering breath, still trying to process that Eddie is really here. That he’s not just another fever dream or concussion-induced mirage.

He shifts slightly, hissing at the sharp pain in his leg, and Eddie is immediately there, hands hovering like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to cause more pain.

“Easy,” Eddie soothes. “They’ve got you on pain meds, but you took a nasty fall. Just—don’t move too much, okay?”

Buck nods faintly, his head still spinning. He studies Eddie’s face—the worry etched deep into his features, the exhaustion, the relief.

“You really came back,” Buck whispers, almost like he’s afraid saying it too loud will make Eddie disappear.

Eddie just squeezes his hand again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And somehow, despite the pain, despite everything, Buck believes him.

*****

For the next three months, Eddie splits his time between LA and El Paso. When Buck first got out of the hospital, Eddie stayed for two weeks straight, helping him adjust to life with a broken leg and a bruised spine. It wasn’t even a question—he had to be there. And after that, he made it work, even if it meant stretching himself thin. Monday through Thursday, he was in Texas, making sure everything with Christopher and his family stayed on track. But every Friday, without fail, he was on a plane back to LA, spending the weekends at Buck’s side. He dipped into his rainy day fund more than he ever expected, but how could he not? After almost losing Buck again, there was no way he was going to put distance between them for that long.

Now, though, things are different. Good. The school year is over, Christopher is excited to be back in LA full-time, and Eddie feels a sense of relief settle in his chest. They’re going home. For good this time.

They’re two days into the drive back, the road stretching long and unbroken ahead of them, when Christopher glances over from the passenger seat. He’s been quiet for a while, lost in his book, but now he closes it and shifts, leveling Eddie with a knowing look.

“So, you going to ask him to marry you or what?”

Eddie nearly swerves into the next lane. He recovers quickly, hands tightening on the wheel, but his heart is a different story. It slams hard against his ribs, the words landing with the weight of something inevitable—something he’s thought about more than he wants to admit.

“What—where—why would you even ask that?” Eddie stammers, eyes flicking to Chris, who only grins, completely unbothered.

“Because you love him,” Christopher says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it is. “You two have the slowest slow burn in the history of slow burns at this point.” 

Eddie exhales, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. Because Christopher isn’t wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s got a point.

They don’t even go to the house first. Eddie barely slows down as he pulls into the station lot, the U-Haul rattling behind them. He and Buck have spent the last three months making long distance work—calls every night, stolen weekends —but it was never enough. Nothing compared to being here, in the same city, the same space.

Christopher is practically bouncing in his seat before the truck even comes to a full stop. “Dad, come on!”

Eddie grins, not even bothering to tell him to be patient because, really, he’s just as bad. He throws the truck into park and climbs out, barely making it a few steps before a familiar voice calls out.

“Eddie?”

Hen stands near the ambulance, hose in hand, her expression shifting from confusion to realization in an instant. “Chris? Did y’all just get in?”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “We, uh… kinda made a detour.”

Hen’s eyes flick from the U-Haul to Christopher, then back to Eddie, and her smirk is downright smug. “Yeah, I figured.” She drops the hose and steps closer, crossing her arms. “So, you gonna stand here all day, or are you finally gonna go see your boyfriend?”

Eddie feels his face heat, but before he can respond, Christopher tugs at his hand, his impatience reaching its peak. “Dad, let’s go!”

Hen laughs as Eddie lets himself be pulled toward the entrance, shaking his head but not resisting. His heart pounds harder with every step. Three months of late-night phone calls, of missing Buck so much it physically hurt, of counting down the days until this exact moment.

And then, suddenly, he’s there.

Buck is standing in the middle of the locker room, barefoot, in just a T-shirt and sweats, toweling his damp hair like he just got out of the shower. He looks up, and for a second, it’s like time freezes.

“Eddie?” Buck blinks, like he doesn’t trust what he’s seeing, like he’s still stuck in the last video call, the last goodbye at the airport. Then he exhales, the tension leaving his body all at once. “You’re here.”

Eddie doesn’t even think. He just moves.

In two strides, he’s across the room, pulling Buck into his arms. Buck barely has time to drop the towel before he’s clutching Eddie just as tightly, burying his face against his shoulder.

“I’m here,” Eddie murmurs, closing his eyes as Buck’s arms tighten around him, solid and real and home.

And this time, he’s not leaving.