Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

An agonising pain settled in his stomach. Blistering, white hot, making his vision blurry and head thump.

He'd coexisted with it for the past few months or so, coped with a searing discomfort in his abdomen, one that only grew inexplicably worse after eating or whilst lying down.

Now Buck curled up on the floor by his daughter's bed, his knees pulled up to his chest as he rocked back and forth with a hot water bottle pressed against his stomach, resisting the urge to pull his own hair out in an animalistic frenzy. 

It hadn't been anywhere near this bad before.

Everyone had been pestering him to see a doctor, ever since he'd stopped eating so much a few weeks ago. Bobby pressing a hand to his forehead, leaving him as man behind on an increasing basis. Hen and Chimney whispering between themselves, analysing his every move. And Eddie and Maddie constantly hounding him, insisting that he go easy until he got checked out, shooting worried looks that made his chest ache whenever he so much as groaned.

Buck hadn't listened. Zoned out whenever Maddie and Chimney tried to talk to him about what they really suspected it might be, talking about how similar the symptoms were to what they'd both seen with family before.

He hadn't wanted to hear it. 

Instead, he kept putting off getting checked up on for several reasons.

Firstly, he'd had more than enough to do between Tilly and work, and yes he knew that that was a pathetic excuse. But being a single working parent to a little girl was tiring enough, let alone with the added exhaustion of whatever was wrong with him. So really, he'd had no time to travel across town to see a doctor. And even if he did find the time- Tilly surely having plenty of more than willing babysitters to take her- he just... well, he hated hospitals.

If he were being completely honest with himself, he'd just been scared, and hadn't wanted to go alone, but also couldn't bare the thought of asking Eddie, or Maddie, or Bobby to accompany him.

Not when there was a relatively good chance of Chimney and Maddie being right, and if so he certainly didn't want them to hear it. 

So, he'd deflected his family's concerns, informing them that just because they were smarty pants medics, and doctors, and nurses, didn't mean that they got to treat him like a patient too. Insisting that he knew how to take care of himself. And, for the most part, it had worked. So long as he nibbled at his food when Bobby was watching, and bit his tongue about the exhaustion and pain when around Hen and Chimney, and redirected Eddie and Maddie's attentions to the kids and his sister's growing baby  when the discomfort became too much to hide.

It was only yesterday, after waking up with an awful fever, his skin taking on a sickly yellow undertone to it that even Tilly noticed- timidly pressing her hand to his cheek and crying like she was terrified at the sight of him- that he finally gave in and booked an appointment.

He dropped Tilly off at daycare with a pinky promise that he'd be all better for her when he picked her back up, and got a bus into the city, far too shaky to risk driving.

He didn't answer the phone, as Eddie messaged asking what he was up to, and Bobby called no doubt to check in as had become increasingly common as of late.

Sat in the hospital waiting room, alone, bouncing his knee and keeling over around his stomach. Kept his eyes squeezed closed, the lights blinding, and hood pulled up high over his head to block out the sickeningly sympathetic gazes he was being sent.

Stood up, wobbling on his feet at the abruptness, when his name was finally called.

And fought down bile at the worry in his doctor's face, upon seeing the state that he was in.

Failed at doing so, when he heard just what they were going to test him for, exactly the thing he'd been so staunchly denying whenever his sister and brother-in-law brought up the possibility.

Turns out, he had no choice but to break his promise to his daughter, as he certainly wasn't going to be better when he got home. 

And the likelihood was that he wasn't going to be better ever again.

In contrast to what he'd so desperately hoped, he felt far worse after visiting the doctors. The pain in his belly (his pancreas, it was a problem with his pancreas) was only made exponentially worse by the hysteria of stress and terror that his diagnosis caused, weighing his entire body down, down, down.

And yes, it was a very good thing that he hadn't drove there. He didn't think he'd be allowed to leave, had he brought a car.

Pancreatic cancer. Stage three. 

Fast on the way to terminal.

Admittedly, he hadn't heard much of what his doctor had had to say after that, his brain shutting out all useful input whilst at the very same time taking on far too much of everything else. Zoning in on the doctor's mouth as it moved, and then the feeling of the pamphlets that were pushed into his hands. Lastly, the sight of a woman stepping into his view, hand outstretched to shake, with a shiny silver name tag on her coat reading Oncologist.

It all felt like a bad fever dream as he nodded along to whatever was being said, a loopy smile spread across his face. He shook the woman's hand with enthusiasm, receiving a grim look as he did. 

He hadn't stopped, continuing on for far longer than was usual for a handshake, laughing dazedly, until the floor seemingly rose up to hit his head, his legs having caved in on him.

The doctors picked him up, settled him down on a chair, and got him water.

Buck didn't drink it. Couldn't. 

Instead he caught his breath, got up, and left. A pile of pamphlets, and letters for prescriptions in hand. 

The bus ride to the pharmacy then back home had passed by much the same, time seeming to move so flawlessly. An indescribable high, colours so bright and birds chirping so happily in the endless stretch of blue sky, sunny as always in LA. He'd braved driving to the daycare, swinging Tilly up into his arms and taking her to the store to buy all of the junk food she wanted, intent on having a nice quiet night in just the two of them.

And she was happy, because he seemed happy. 

Reality had only crashed down on him as he was singing her her favourite bedtime song, the one he'd sung every night since she was a baby nestled in his arms, as the unwelcome thought of who else would soothe her to sleep with the lyrics of you are my sunshine each night, and truly mean each and every word, flickered through his mind. Who could possibly love and care for her as much as he did?

That was what had him rocking back and forth on his daughter's bedroom floor, unable to move, to think, to breathe.

The seconds of their time together echoed in the background of his mind, as he stared at her small face, lax with sleep, and wondered how many more nights he'd be able to tuck her in and watch her like this. To read her a bedtime story, and tell her just how much he loved her.

How long they had until she was without a Mom and a Dad. 

Buck wiped at his face, breathing coming out strained, feeling more and more like a chore.

Tilly's cheeks were a warm pink, mouth pursed open in an 'o' as the four year old snored and drooled onto her favourite turtle pillow from sea world. Safe, content, loved...

What would happen to her if he died?

A sharp pain wracked through his chest as his eyes began to burn up, his vision of her blurring into a mess of silky blonde hair and freckled skin.

He blinked, practically choking on his own tongue as he sucked in a ragged breath, desperate to be able to see her in full clarity again whilst he still could. He was startled by the feeling of the sting of tears rolling down his cheeks, as he became so overwhelmingly aware of his surroundings. Of the cracking white plaster of his daughter's tiny room, of the muffled music playing on his neighbour's speaker, their apartment filled with laughter and singing and shouting without a care in the world, of the scratchiness of the old rug beneath his fingertips, of the humid warmth perpetrating the room.

He pulled at his shirt, breaking out into an inexplicable sweat, irregardless to the shakes wracking his frame. 

Through the room's open door, he could see the bag of medications he'd picked up sat on the coffee table next to the pamphlets of information his doctor had pushed into his hand.

Now, in his pit of self despair, he couldn't help but wonder what the point of them was.

Stage three. On the way to terminal.

Pills weren't saving him, he doubted anything could.

He was dying, and leaving his baby girl all alone in the world, after promising both her and himself that she would never experience that kind of lonely pain that he had.

He was dying, leaving behind a four year old. With no mother to care for her, no doting grandparents. All he had to pass on was a pile of credit card debt, a lifetime of trauma, and a car.

There was a ringing in his ears, almost loud enough to overtake the sound of the mental clock still ticking away, marking each and every second until his last. Each breath a countdown, and all he could do was sit paralysed on his daughter's bedroom floor, with no one to talk to or share his torment.

Alone, they were all alone. He was dying, leaving her behind. And there was nothing, nothing, he could do about it.

Buck's hands wrapped around the pink princess bedding, squeezing it because he couldn't currently squeeze his daughter without waking her up. A poor substitute. 

A buzzing sound. It took a moment, in between his desperate gasps for breaths to realise that it was his phone vibrating in his pocket, as it had been for much of the day, left unchecked. 

Dazedly he pulled it out, wiping at his face with his shirt sleeves as he did.

A picture of Eddie with Christopher on his shoulders lit up his screen, the then five year old's bright cheeky smile so similar to his own kid's.

All Buck could do was stare at it as the call kept going, until a few moments later when the screen went dark. 

He swallowed, throat immensely dry, and looked back at Tilly, wanting so badly to curl up next to her on the tiny bed.

Okay, so maybe they weren't entirely alone. 

They had family. They weren't isolated, like Buck had been up until Tilly was born. 

He had Maddie, and the 118, and Athena, and, most importantly, Eddie.

Eddie had been his saving grace, his first real friend and confidant, one that he felt close on another level and could go to for help with all things parenthood, as he was thrown into it alone not long after Eddie joined the 118.

Buck could... Buck could talk to him. Tell Eddie, when he wasn't yet brave enough to tell his sister that she'd been right, and cancer was taking another brother away from her.

And maybe, telling Eddie would deter the growing all consuming ache in his chest, ever so slightly. 

Shakily, he pulled himself up to his feet, pressing a kiss to Tilly's cheek, and stumbled out into the living area. The smell of dinner's leftovers in the kitchen almost making him gag, as food had for a while now.

He sat down on the arm of the couch, knees feeling immensely weak, so that he could still see Tilly from where he was. Then, he clicked onto Eddie's missed call to return it, clearing his throat and swallowing several times as it rung out, hoping to not sound too much like he'd been sobbing for hours on end.

"Well, well, look who's awake after all," was what Eddie picked up with, a smile audible in his voice, and Buck felt his heart lurch with fondness before rapidly being overtaken by grief again.

God. Buck couldn't tell him about this over the phone.

"Hey," he greeted, grimacing when his voice still came out raspy, which Eddie clearly picked up on if the pause was anything to go by.

Fortunately, his friend rarely pressed. Usually just waited for him to say if he wanted to talk about something, knowing that sometimes Buck just wanted to a distraction. 

Which Eddie was quick to provide.

"So, I was thinking, it's always fun hanging out with the kids. Our kids are great! But I thought that, maybe, it'd be cool if we hung out just us tomorrow? It might be nice, not having to lug along colouring books and snacks everywhere, y'know? And we've never actually done that, outside of work," Eddie trailed off at the end, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. 

Why? Buck didn't know. It was normal for friends to hang out without two minis running around, and it was definitely weird that they'd actually never done that before, both of them putting their children above all else and never once questioning whether their kids were coming to any and all activities they planned. Work was them time, home time was kid time. Still... it would be nice to have them time when they weren't constantly being interrupted by alarms and emergencies. 

Buck must have phased out, as before he could conjure a response Eddie was speaking again. "Uh... of course I don't mind if you want to do something with the kids instead. I just thought maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

Not so long ago Buck would have jumped at this opportunity. Work was the only time he wasn't having kid time. And he loved kid time, really he did, but, well, he naturally craved adult time too which he hadn't had in far too long. Longer than he could remember, actually, which was incredibly different to the person he'd been before Tilly was born. And oh, how he loved Eddie's company, every second of it.

But now, the idea of being away from his daughter for any period of time was almost too much to bare. After all, he didn't know how much of it he had left.

So it was for that reason that he hesitated, eventually agreeing if only because it would be the perfect (if there ever was one) time to break the news.

"Yeah, no, that sounds good," He replied, voice notably tight, until he cleared his throat again. "Are you taking Chris to daycare? Since we'll only be an hour or two."

He couldn't imagine it going on much longer than that, once Buck had killed the mood.

Tilly would be happy to have her daycare buddy back, at least. Despite being school age. Christopher still qualified for it due to Eddie being an emergency service worker, both their kids were entitled to round the clock care. Something that mostly, in Chris' case, fell to Carla now, but Buck knew it was Carla's day off since they didn't have a shift tomorrow.

"Yeah, I am. Look forward to seeing you there."

Like they hadn't seen each other just one short day ago. A day that, granted, felt like another lifetime after the news Buck had received.

Still, Eddie's words made his chest swoon, momentarily putting a stop to the agony and fear and heartbreak. As he hoped that, maybe, for now, he could just be Buck. And just go out and get coffee with his best friend, then pick up their adorable kids together, and most probably hang out with them after. If Eddie didn't freak and ice him out, that was.

Maybe, for a little while, he could forget, pretend.

Until he inevitably had to crush his daughter's innocence and change both of their lives for good, that was.

"I gotta go, sounds like Chris is having a nightmare, but I'll see you tomorrow at drop off? Around one?" Eddie asked, after another stilted silence from Buck.

He gave his head a little shake to clear his thoughts, before looking back over to his still fast asleep daughter, her face illuminated from the light seeping into her room. "Yeah. Give the little guy a hug from me."

Christopher still had a lot of nightmares about his Mom's passing.

Would his sweet Tilly have to suffer the same fait, because of him?

Buck grit his teeth.

"Will do."

The moment the call ended he felt his shoulders droop from their tenseness, overwhelmed by the mind numbing sorrow yet again.

A dizzying silence, broken only by his heart pounding in his chest and Tilly's soft puffs of breath.

He stumbled back to her room and slumped on to the floor, resuming his position with his knees pulled to his chest and a now mildly warm bottle pressed to his abdomen.

Buck had never been good at shutting his head off to rest, and tonight was, of course, no exception.

He stared blankly ahead until the early hours of the morning, when the sun peaked through the purple blinds, his eyes burning and red by that point.

The feeling of little fingers tugging at his hair was enough to snap him out of his daze, twisting around to look at his daughter.

Tilly was as bright eyed as ever, despite the early hour of morning. Sat up on her knees with her pyjama top rolling up her pudgy belly, dimples pulling at her cheeks as she blinked over at him with an adoration that had always made him feel inexplicably huge and strong.

"Daddy sleep on floor?" Tilly asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Buck shifted up on to his knees too, turning towards the bed and leaning forwards so that his forehead was pressed against hers.

"Good morning to you too, bug," he greeted, before pressing noisy kisses to her cheek, making the four year old squeal and squirm away.

He went to pick her up and stand, but was overtaken by a sudden wooziness as he lifted up on to his feet that instead had him clutching at the wall to steady himself, clinging on to Tilly out of pure reflex.

Her legs dangled, tiptoes still on the bed, fingers squeezing at his shirt holding on to him as a frown overtook her sweet features. Her nose scrunched up in distaste as he heaved in a ragged breath.

"Daddy?" 

Buck swallowed, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment before contorting his face into a smile that he had no doubt looked more akin to that of a pained grimace, but would hopefully be good enough to get passed a preschooler.

"I'm okay," he reassured, rubbing a shaky hand over her small back before straightening up, cautiously letting go of the wall. Lifted her up properly onto his hip, something that was ordinarily an easy feat. "Breakfast? It's pretty early, we may have time for pancakes if you're extra specially good."

Tilly blinked at him, still frowning for a few more moments, before brightening back up in to a grin.

"I'm good!" Her socked feet kicked against him as he quickly carried her out in to the living area, plonking her down on her designated chair at the kitchen island and feeling utterly terrified as his arms tremored with exertion just from holding his baby. 

He could deadlift 400 ibs on a normal day, she weighed no more than 45.

Wordlessly, Buck turned on the TV to put on her favourite kids show as background noise, before passing her an apple to munch on as he prepared the ingredients for pancakes. Just coming up to six am.

Tilly swung her legs on the tall kitchen chair, happily crunching at the fruit as she rubbed the last bit of sleep from her eyes, neck swivelling around to peer over at Peppa Pig.

Buck kept glancing at her over his shoulder, as he hesitantly wondered over to the drug store bag he had still yet to look through, despite having plenty of time last night. 

He could barely manage lifting his four year old up without toppling over, he needed something, and maybe this bag contained exactly what that something was.

Taped to it was the note he'd given to the pharmacist, long names he couldn't even begin to pronounce scribbled down in doctor handwriting.

The list was long.

He hadn't registered any of what he'd been told yesterday, not after the initial diagnosis, so he really had no clue what was in there.

Buck grabbed the bag and ripped it open, before beginning to pull out box after box, scanning over what each was for and lining them up on the counter top.

Morphine, for moderate to severe pain, max two a day.

Ibuprofen, for inflammation and mild pain.

Gabapentin, an anticonvulsant.

Ondanestron, reduces nausea.

Pancreatic enzime supplements.

Dexamethasone, a steroid to reduce inflammation and swelling.

Finally, his fingertips skimmed the bottom of the bag.

Wow.

Buck blinked at the boxes of some pretty heavy stuff, marvelling at the fact that he essentially had his own drug store now, flashbacks to the weeks after his leg was crushed playing in his head.

Very quickly, he realised that he definitely should have been listening to the pharmacist and his doctor about what exactly he should be taking and when. 

And most probably should have mentioned his moderate naproxen allergy, which would no doubt crop up in at least half of these meds.

Yeah, he really needed his family. Any one of them would have done a better job at organising everything out. 

After another glance over at his daughter, he reached over to the packet of morphine, scanning through its ingredients (thankfully no naproxen) and possible side effects.

Constipation, nausea, dizziness, and fatigue.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Almost not worth having, if not for the fact that the agony in his body was already largely at fault for most of said problems anyway.

He just needed it all to stop for a little while, needed to think without the blistering pain with every step.

So, he took a glass of water and swallowed one down, before electing to scoop everything else up back in to a bag safely out of reach of little hands, not wanting to take anything else before he spoke to someone about it.

He couldn't afford to knock himself unconscious, not when they were alone.

Then Buck forced himself together, and began gathering ingredients for pancakes as promised, measuring everything out for his daughter to pour in to the bowl like she always did.

Everything sort of blurred together, from that moment on. He helped Tilly make pancakes, piled them on to her plate with fruit, ardently not in the mood for food of his own, then gave her a bath. The pain had mercifully lulled a little by that point, but he still felt like crap. He sat on the toilet seat, allowing her to splash around with plenty of time to kill, before getting her dressed and doing her hair. Then he finally sett her up with a still half asleep Chris and Eddie on FaceTime- both of whom had only just woken up- while he had a quick shower and threw on the least dirty clothes he owned, the piles of laundry on the bathroom floor staring him down as he did.

He managed to stay out of the FaceTime for the most part. Dodged any questions Eddie called out to him with, replying shortly whilst standing off screen, allowing Tilly free rein of his phone. Which was stupid, given that they'd see each other in a few hours anyway, but he was terrified that Eddie would catch one glimpse of him and see just how terrible he looked and drive straight over with Chris in tow, demanding answers he couldn't give in front of the kids. 

No sooner than Buck was dressed and as ready as he could be for the day, Eddie had to go to get himself and Chris ready too, departing with a "We can't all be as upbeat in the morning as you Buckleys".

A comment that'd usually make Buck chuckle, if not for the fact that he was decidedly not upbeat, and hadn't been for a while now.

Once the call ended he retrieved his phone from Tilly's consistently sticky fingers and sat down on the floor to do some morning reading with her, the four year old happily plonking herself down onto his lap to watch as he trailed his fingers beneath the words.

With how early they'd woken up, they had plenty of time to get through two books before he left her to play while he cleaned up breakfast, and they were out of the door with plenty of time.

Somehow, they still managed to be a few minutes late, as was always the case with them, so Christopher was already there and waved excitedly at them as they neared the daycare's door.

"Hi, Buck!" The seven year old wobbly got up to his feet from the plastic kids table, already covered in paint.

Buck squated down and took the hand, rubbing his thumb over it.

"Hey, superman," he smiled, poking a finger at the superhero logo emblazoned on Chris' shirt. "Where's your Dad?"

"He had to go pick something up."

Tilly began running in circles around the two of them, cheerfully saying hi to the childminders who ran the daycare as well as all of her friends.

"You're getting coffee with Daddy," Christopher stated, an odd tinge of excitement in his tone. A little smug, almost. Which was... odd. 

"We are, then we're coming to pick you two up," Buck turned to look at the clock on the wall, pulling a thoughtful face before turning back to the kid. "At around three. So when the little hand is by that number, okay bud?" he pointed.

Christopher gave a wise all knowing nod and Buck stood up again, going a little dizzy as he did, and began wondering how he'd manage to make it until three pm when he was already so thoroughly exhausted at midday.

Tilly had run off to chatter to another little girl over by the bookshelves, but twisted around to look at him upon noticing that he was leaving.

"See you both super soon," he promised.

"Bye, Daddy!" Tilly replied cheerfully, not one to cry at drop offs which was certainly a blessing, then returned to her conversation.

"Love you too," he called over to her, before shuffling a hesitant step backwards, overcome with a sudden resistance to parting with her.

He'd been the same on her first day here, when she'd been but a baby, and he had cried far more than she had. That was actually how he'd discovered Eddie was also a parent. Carrying a screaming four year old Christopher whom he'd had to claw himself away from, while Tilly was passed quite happily over to the infant carer, babbling away with the woman immediately.

They'd looked at each other in surprise, it being just before Eddie's third shift at the 118, and drove to work together, talking about all the fun and all the challenges that came with being single parents, and it had felt so nice to be understood.

At pickup, they'd found Christopher placing toys on top of Tilly for her to play with, and Buck immediately asked Eddie if he wanted to arrange a playdate.

They'd both been so sweet. So small.

They were still small. Frighteningly so.

Buck had to shake his head, push down the idea of breaking his daughter's heart so young, to focus on driving if he didn't want to take himself to an early grave.

It was twenty minutes to the coffee shop, Buck knew which one without having to clarify because it was where they usually met up for outings, on a long stretch of pedestrian shopping area with a soft play, splash pad, caracole, and just a walk away to a train cart the kids loved going on. 

It wasn't often that they actually went inside of the cafe, usually they were too busy chasing their little monsters from one place to the next, instead taking it in turns to go in and order for each other.

Buck pulled at the sleeves of the thick hoodie he'd elected to wear, the fabric now notably loose on him despite having been appealingly tight on his muscles when he'd originally bought it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes feeling droopy and sore, wanting more than anything to cancel plans and go home to catch up on sleep.

But he'd promised Eddie. And Eddie, and Chris- for some reason- had both seemed excited about said plans.

And being around his best friend always made him feel better, in the end, so maybe he could help this time round too.

He needed him, more than he ever had before. He couldn't do it alone, there was no point in delaying the inevitable conversations.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he pulled open the door, being greeted by the sound of an upbeat indie band, the chatter of students, clicking of keyboards, and whirring of machines.

His eyes flickered around the room, before landing on Eddie tucked away at the back. His hands clasped on the table, and knee bouncing in what was assumably nerves.

What had he to be nervous about?

Stomach rolling, he slowly made his way over to the table, fingers twitching at his sides in desire to cling onto something.

"Hi," he greeted, and Eddie's warm brown eyes quickly flicked up to meet his, the man smiling upon noticing him.

A smile that quickly faltered, as he looked Buck over.

Shit.

He most definitely looked as bad as he felt, then. 

"Hey," his friend greeted, smiling again but in a much more strained manner this time. Using his foot, Eddie pushed out the chair opposite him for Buck to sit on, which he quickly did, slumping down a little too bonelessly. Eddie's face twitched with worry, but he quickly concealed it under a layer of impassiveness. "I, uh, got you a caramel frap, extra cream. And a strawberry muffin."

Buck blinked at the offerings, feeling nausea roll through him. It was a sweet offer, exactly what he'd ordinarily get before all... this.

Reluctantly, he grabbed a hold of the drink, internally cursing the shakiness of his fingers.

Eddie noticed it, of course, but kept up that blank exterior. 

For now.

"Thanks, but I thought it was my turn to buy." 

Eddie lifted up his own drink, taking a sip before placing the cup back on to its saucer. "Well, I'm the one who invited you, and it was actually so I..." he trailed off, and Buck watched as his fingers curled around a daisy resting on the table.

His favourite flower.

Huh.

"I invited you because I have a question to ask."

Buck was intrigued, if a little (a lot) nervous. He forced himself to take a sip of his own drink through the straw, and semi-successfully held back a gag at the sweet taste. He should have taken those anti-sickness pills. Then maybe he could appear semi-normal, and he could enjoy himself like a functioning human being.

"Will I be your official sugar baby?" he guessed, tilting his head to appear in consideration of the made up proposition.

Eddie dipped his head with a little laugh, cheeks a nice looking pink. The deep red Henley he had on looked good on him, the colour complimenting the browns of his eyes and hair so nicely, the fabric hugging his well-toned muscles, making him appear extra warm.

Buck felt cold, despite the LA sun beaming down at them even in Fall, and the multiple layers he had on so as to disguise the increasing frailness of his body. 

It would be nice, to be closer to Eddie and bask in the coziness of his browns and reds, as opposed to his own creams and blues.

Eddie scratched at the back of his neck, biceps bulging out the cotton fabric. "When I came here it was... it was lonely. I didn't have any friends, and neither did Chris, and I was trying to be okay with that but it was so isolating."

Okay... 

Where was this going?

"But then we met you, and Til, and you both make us so happy. Anytime you're not with us it's like- like there's something missing. So, no pressure or anything because it's totally cool if you just wanna keep things how they are, but I was wondering, if-"

Buck choked on his own saliva as realisation dawned on him, initiating a coughing fit that rapidly twisted in to horrendous hacking in to a napkin.

Eddie's chair scraped against the floor as he quickly stood and came to his side, placing a hand on his upper back and forearm. "Are you okay?!" he asked, to which Buck couldn't answer as he continued to practically cough his lungs out, half expecting to see blood coating the fabric, just like the blood clot all over again.

"Fuck," he gasped out, once he was finally able to catch a breath. His chest stuttered, making him splutter for a little bit longer. He felt people glancing over to the two of them, but couldn't bring himself to care as Eddie's large hand rubbed circles in to his back, prompting him to breathe.

He leaned back, into his friend's warmth, shivering a little as it finally came to a stop.

Once again, his eyes were burning. 

"Have you been to the doctors yet? This isn't normal, Buck," Eddie sighed out, hand that was on his forearm squeezing a little. He could so easily see Eddie's pinched expression, without needing to actually glance back at him.

Not even five minutes, and his last attempt at normalcy came to an end.

"Yesterday," he admitted, quietly. He couldn't bare to look at Eddie, as he knew it was time to own up. He couldn't enjoy this one last get together, this one thing, before facing the truth. His life was already over. "And it's... it wasn't good news."

Eddie went completely still behind him. Before shuffling a little, crouching at his side like they both did their kids. His hands trailed down his arm, to take his hand instead, their fingers intertwining so easily, like a perfect fit.

Still Buck couldn't bare to look at him. A grim smile pulled at his face, air puffing out of his nose as though what he was about to say was mildly funny. "Apparently I have, like, a thirty percent chance of making it another year."

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for Eddie to pull away.

Quickly opened them again, once he heard a belated snort.

Eddie was looking at him like he thought he was mad, eyes flickering over his face in search of a lie, or a joke. A note of anxiety was apparent in the way that Eddie's voice shook a little, as he belatedly asked "Sorry, what're you saying?"

"I have advanced pancreatic cancer. Stage three." He felt numb, like the cold had iced him over completely, as Eddie just stared at him in a daze. "Uh... and I looked it up-"

"Obviously," his friend muttered, quiet, dark. His skin going paler by the second.

"And found that thirty percent make it a year. Only ten live for another three. So..."

Eddie's mouth pursed, trying to find words. "You're serious..."

"Why would I joke about having cancer?" he huffed out.

Eddie's hand roughly jerked away from his as though burned, averting his gaze.

Buck felt like his chest had been stabbed by a thousand needles, as he watched Eddie's once warm eyes glaze over, staring holes in to the floor.

Eddie visibly swallowed, before finally looking back at him. Expression now stony and desert, something far worse than heartbreak.

"Well, you're strong, and young. So, you'll be in that ten percent."

"Eddie." 

Eddie stood up straight, hands clenching at his sides like he wanted to punch something, and Buck felt so... guilty, so ashamed.

"You have to be. I was about to bare my heart out to you, ask you to plan a future with me, and now you're saying you're not making it to next Christmas?! I mean..." this time, Eddie was the one chuckling mirthlessly, running his hands through his dark hair in distress, looking slightly deranged as he did. Manic. Buck had stopped breathing, at his words. "And Tilly, Tilly needs her Dad. You're not going to die any time soon, you can't leave her, leave us. Got it?"

Without even realising it, a sob tore from Buck's mouth, as his worst fear about all of this was highlighted and thrown at him.

He'd promised he'd never leave her. He'd promised she'd never grow up alone, unloved.

"I don't know what's going to happen to her," he choked out, vision going blurry once again with tears. Really, he should have ran out of them by now.

The budding anger in Eddie weakened, the tenseness in his shoulders and jawline relaxing ever so slightly leaving him just looking miserable instead.

"I only have Maddie, and she... she's got her own baby coming, she's restarting life, I can't ask her. It'll break her, I know it will," he concluded with a note of hysterics. Maddie was already struggling, with the baby on the way seeming to take a strain on her mentally before it had even arrived.

She'd been sad, and withdrawn, since their parents visited, digging up the trauma she'd suppressed all these years over Daniel. Daniel, who'd died from leukaemia. 

No. He couldn't go to his pregnant sister, tell her he was dying from cancer, so she'd have to take in his four year old.

More eyes burned holes in to his back as he heaved. He could feel them, watching, gawking. Until Eddie wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him forwards into a hug, Buck's forehead pressing into the man's belly as he cried and shook, everything coming out all at once now that someone was finally holding him, listening. So different to having a meltdown on his daughter's bedroom floor, having to keep the despair quiet so as to avoid waking her.

Eddie squeezed him tightly, like he alone could hold him together in one piece and keep him from crumbling, falling through the gaps into eternity.

"You think Chris and I'd let anything happen to you or her? No," he spoke resolutely, voice incredibly raw and strained sounding, like he was fighting back his own tears.

Close as they were, Buck could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Eddie cry.

"What, you're saying you'd take care of her?" Snot came bubbling out of his nose as he snorted. Gross. "Last thing you need is another kid to juggle."

Eddie managed to hunch his frame over enough to place his chin on top of Buck's head, not once loosening his grip of him, keeping him pressed to his body.

"I know you wouldn't let Chris go if I died. So I'm not letting Tilly go either."

He clearly wasn't thinking straight. And neither was Buck if the way his heart leapt in his chest at such an insane proposition was any indicator.

"Be serious, you're not going to adopt a four year old. That's crazy, no one's expecting you to do that, you won't be the bad guy for refusing." Deep down, he was selfishly hoping Eddie would prove him wrong. Help him with this one thing...

He felt his friend shake his head. "I'm not going to need to, you're not going anywhere. I'm just saying if you did-"

The exhaustion was bone deep, painful. Pulling out of Eddie's grasp to look up at him felt physically improbable, but he did it anyway. This was important. "I have to be prepared, Eddie. I can't just hope for the best, I have to..." he bit at his lip to keep it from wobbling. "I have to be ready to leave her. And if you're not serious about adopting her, I have to start looking for someone else." Maddie and Chimney, Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen... It felt wrong to ask this of any of them.

Something about his statement- perhaps it was the word 'adoption', something so final- gave Eddie pause.

His plump lips pursed, dark brows furrowing in thought. Eyes, once again, averted themselves. "I'll... I'm gonna need some time to plan. Is that okay? A week or something?"

His mouth set in a grim line. Really, that was the best- and more- than he'd hoped for coming in here. Last night, of course he'd spent hours digging his brain for who could care for his daughter once he was gone. And of course his best friend had cropped up in his mind, multiple times. He already had Eddie in his Will to take Tilly if he died, and vice versa. But it actually being such a looming possibility was an entirely different ballgame than just saying it as something purely hypothetical.

Never would he have come in here and asked Eddie to do something like this for him. Eddie was an amazing father, so patient and kind, and far more responsible than Buck could ever hope to be. He tried so hard, but in comparison to Eddie he was most definitely a shit Dad, easy to sway and never getting anything right.

Tilly would be looked after with him, Buck knew that, after all Eddie already knew her like the back of his hand. Still, it was so much to ask.

"Yeah, of course," Buck agreed, before lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, feeling a migraine building up.

Again Eddie straightened up, but kept his hands gripping at Buck's arms.

"Well, this isn't the coffee date I'd had planned," he commented, staring at the deserted drinks.

Buck smiled a little, feeling a pattering in his chest at the word date, thoughts drifting to his friend's earlier words that had sounded an awful lot like he'd been planning on... on asking him on more of these 'dates'.

Buck had the shittiest luck of all time. 

Why now, why when things were just about to get so good?

"Sorry."

Eddie shrugged, impassively. "Next time I won't order a hot drink," he said that while taking a gulp of his latte, grimacing as it went down, before returning to holding Buck with two hands. Eddie looked... he didn't know how to describe it. His friend was always difficult to pin down, when he was upset, his emotions coming in strong and exploding out of him indeterminately, before flicking back to a seemingly fine exterior. Buck remembered when Shannon died, a year and a bit into their friendship. If he hadn't been there to help...

Oh. He wouldn't be there to help, not after he died.

Obviously.

But that was different. He wasn't the mother of Eddie's child, the estranged wife who he still loved so deeply.

They were friends. And whatever Eddie's intentions had been with this coffee date didn't matter, because they could never be more than friends, now. That wouldn't be fair to either of them.

"Do you wanna pick the kids up? Have a movie night at mine?" Eddie offered, softly, and Buck nodded through the daze he'd fallen into.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. I've just gotta run to the restroom," he stated, standing up abruptly and having to be steadied by Eddie as he very nearly toppled over again.

Buck picked up the untouched muffin and passed it to his friend to hold, so that Tilly could have it when he picked her up, before hurrying to the restrooms. Knees crashing onto the tiled floor in front of the nearest toilet just in time to heave.

His stomach cramped around nothing, he hadn't eaten in he didn't even know how long so it was pure bile coming up, seemingly never ending. 

Buck didn't want to think about all the germs on the public restroom floor, as he shivered and shook in front of the bowl, nose sniffling again, until he finally stopped gagging on nothing.

He hesitantly clambered back up, over to the sinks to scrub his hands and splash his face, and horrifyingly caught glimpse of himself in the mirror, after having avoided his reflection for so long.

Far worse than he'd assumed, he could barely even recognise the person gawking back at him.

His hair was thin, like it hadn't been washed. Eyes so incredibly dull, more grey looking than blue as they were shadowed by heavy bags beneath the lids, red rimmed from all the tears. The scruff on his face had begun to grow messy, having skipped shaving longer than he usually did out of sheer exhaustion. His formerly round cheeks were now sharp, and had lost all rosy quality to instead be a paleness that he hadn't been even in the coldest of Pennsylvania winters.

Oh, fuck. 

He knew he looked awful, but... for how long had he looked this gaunt? This ugly and sick?

Really, it was a wonder Eddie hadn't diverted all plans to ask him out and left the moment he spotted him.

Leaving the restroom, he wouldn't have been surprised had Eddie already left, too embarrassed to be seen with the likes of him. But of course that thought turned out to be stupid, because his friend was- was so good, and kind. He wouldn't ever be so shallow.

That, and he was probably feeling pity for him.

Eddie was waiting by the door, muffin in hand, staring grimly at the floor, before sprucing right back up with a forced smile upon seeing him again. 

His friend held the door open for him, and the two of them walked in perfect synchrony with one another, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, like always.

Except, not like always, Buck was shaking. And he couldn't tell if it was from the soul deep chill, the sickness, or the heavy emotions attacking his senses. 

Either way, Eddie reached up to slink an arm over his shoulders and pull him close, Buck somehow managing to shrink in on himself enough to fit beneath the comforting weight.

They arrived at the daycare earlier than he'd told Chris they would, catching both kids off guard whist they happened to be playing with one another. Chris was laying down on his belly on a play mat, clicking the Lego pieces that Tilly handed him together.

They snook up behind them, and the four year old noticed first.

"Daddy!" she squealed, running over to cling to his legs, hair he'd neatly tied up earlier now an untameable mess.

Eddie let go of him to help Christopher up and squeeze him into a hug, as Tilly began to chatter away about everything she'd done that day. The 'day' being merely an hour.

"Daddy, did you give Buck his flowers?" Christopher asked sweetly, peering up at Eddie as the two came over.

Buck felt his heart skip a beat at the way Eddie ducked his head again just like he had earlier, pink returning to his cheeks.

Flowers?

His mind drifted to the daisy he'd assumed had been left on the table for decor.

The other man shook his head, "Must've slipped my mind. But Buck's coming to ours for a movie night."

The seven year old lit up with excitement.

"Can I come, Daddy?" Tilly asked, taking a hold of his hand to smile up at him hopefully, like he'd ever left her home alone to go for a movie night at Eddie's.

He pretended to consider it. "Of course."

"Yay!" the girl jumped up and down, quickly dropping his hand to run on ahead, only pausing at the door to shout goodbye to everyone in the room.

They made their way over and pushed the door open for her, letting her skip along in front of them.

"Then we'll have a sleepover?" Christopher asked, a reasonable assumption given that's usually what happened.

This time though Eddie peered over at him with doubt, not knowing what his answer would be.

And Buck was hesitant. 

He felt so sick, he'd be no fun on a sleepover. 

He just wanted to curl up and sleep, not entertain two little ones with pillow forts and games like he usually did.

However, he'd definitely feel worse for wasting what time he had left moping in bed. Tilly loved sleepovers.

And it was for that reason that he gave a discreet nod of his head in Eddie's direction.

"Yeah, Buck and Tilly can sleepover. You'll have to share your bed though."

With that answer, Christopher was happy.

And how could Buck not be happy when he and Tilly were?

~~~~~

They stopped at Buck's on the way to pick up some clothes and Tilly's turtle pillow.

Eddie eyed the pamphlets and pharmacy bag, before giving Buck a look that had him begrudgingly picking both up with a sigh to take with him.

Stupid silver star army medic Eddie of course wasn't going to let him get away with ignoring it for any longer. 

The kids were both hyper, always were with the prospect of a sleepover underway, Chris hurriedly pulling out all of his toys as soon as they got to theirs, making the tidying Eddie insisted on doing every evening fruitless. 

Eddie, miraculously, managed to keep the sleepover somewhat peaceful, much easier to manage than normal. Buck supposed it helped that he wasn't hyping them both up like he usually did by throwing them around, instead leaving only Eddie's calm presence to set the tone for the evening.

They all squeezed on to the couch under heavy blankets. Buck and Eddie's legs tangled together as they sat top to tail with one another, and the kids lay over their legs to have a Disney Marathon.

They ordered pizza, to which Eddie looked displeased- and most definitely would be commenting on- the fact that he didn't eat any, and the kids got so stuffed full from all of the food that they both got sleepy at a reasonable time. 

They got them ready for bed and Eddie stepped out of Chris' room to tidy up, leaving Buck to tuck them in.

"Goodnight you two. Love you both," Buck said after singing through a lullaby, placing kisses to both Tilly and Chris' foreheads.

"Night, night Daddy," the four year old yawned, her turtle squeezed between her arms. Christopher was already pretty out of it, holding his stuffed bear in a similar fashion with half open eyes.

Buck quietly shuffled out of the room, being sure to put the boy's nightlight on before switching off the lamp, leaving the bedroom door open a crack as Eddie always did so that he could listen out for any nightmares.

Tilly's eyes drifted closed just as he fully exited the room. 

Nerves consumed him now that he and Eddie were truly alone to talk, without the judging eyes of the people from the coffee shop or little ears around.

His fingers fiddled with one another, nails picking at his cuticles, as he entered the kitchen. Faltering as he found Eddie sat at the kitchen counter reading through those dreaded pamphlets.

Oh God.

Eddie looked up at him as Buck went to the sink to get some water, leaning back against the counter opposite his friend to sip slowly at it.

Eddie looked back down to the paper he was holding.

"You have an appointment tomorrow at eleven," he said, which was news to Buck. "I can drop you off."

"It's fine, I can catch the bus," he shrugged disinterestedly. Because Eddie- as much as he liked to disguise himself as a relaxed and collected guy- was at his heart a worrier. And if Eddie was worrying over him, and interrogating the doctors for information, it would probably freak Buck out more than he already was. Besides, it would be easier for him to watch the kids here than it would be at a hospital.

Eddie raised a thoroughly unimpressed brow, before stating "I'm driving you."

Knowing he had no chance of winning, Buck just sighed tiredly in casual agreement.

"Have you made a schedule of when to take these?" Eddie asked next, gesturing to the boxes of pills he'd sorted through. 

"No."

"Well, we need to do that. A pill caddy would be handy for the daily ones, we should pick one up tomorrow." A pill caddy. Geez, how old was he? Buck grimaced at the thought of this being his life now, never ending pills and doctors appointments to alleviate the unbearable pain. That really shouldn't be happening until he was at least sixty. Not that he'd actually see sixty... or forty, for that matter.

Eddie stood up and made his way over to a cupboard to pull out a tin of soup. "Sit down, you need to eat something to take with those."

"I can't eat," he huffed, growing increasingly aggravated out of nowhere. Eddie knows that he hasn't been able to eat without being filled with a splinting agony, and now he knows why. He had a fucking tumour in his digestive system. 

"These will make it so you can. You need to eat something."

"Can we just drop it for today," he implored, but that only increased Eddie's insistence.

"Buck, it's important."

"Please!" he snapped, slamming the glass of water down on to the counter top. "One more day won't kill me," and even if it did, did that matter at this point? He was most likely a goner either way. "I'll sort it out tomorrow with the doctor, right now I just want to sleep. Please," finishing in a softer more tired tone successfully worked to get Eddie to lay off of him. His friend visibly not happy with the arrangement, but feeling too bad to press.

Good. At least he could use pity points. The one upside to all this.

Buck slumped over to Eddie's couch, pulling one of the discarded blankets over himself and closing his eyes.

It didn't take long for Eddie to approach him, and Buck reluctantly squinted open an eye again to peer up at him.

"Like I'm gonna let you sleep on the couch," his friend huffed, disapproving of the set up despite it being where he usually stayed.

"Well, unless we're sharing a bed..." Which Buck wasn't opposed to, but would probably be weird now, given the circumstances of the day. Given their kinda date, that got kinda aborted thanks to his mess.

"I promise to be a gentleman," Eddie raised a hand as though swearing an oath, "so long as you keep those lanky legs to one side."

"Can't make any promises," Buck tutted, then smiled wearily as Eddie helped him up to his feet, keeping a hold of the blanket as they walked to his bedroom. Eddie made him stop and wait as he plumped up a pillow, before holding the bedsheets up for him to climb under, like a little kid being tucked in.

He snickered, but relaxed completely as soon as his body was finally allowed to meld in to a mattress.

Eddie, after a moments pause, climbed in beside him, fumbling to switch off the lamp.

Buck didn't even need the darkness to begin dozing off to sleep, surrounded by the comforting scent and warmth of his best friend. 

"Good night, Buck," Eddie whispered, to which he replied with an unintelligible response, eyes growing increasingly heavy.

It was a few moments later, as he was on the very brink of unconsciousness, that he made out an added, even quieter comment of "I love you, you know."

~~~~~

"Chemo?" Buck asked in confusion, as he sat in the doctor's office the next day, Eddie outside in the waiting room with the kids.

Doctor Rollinson- the oncologist who'd introduced herself that first day, who apparently would be overseeing the rest of his treatments- had taken more vitals, his weight, and adjusted his medications to account his naproxen allergy, giving him another pharmacy note. Then came Doctor Egan, who worked in palliative care to talk through the available help for him and his family.

Doctor Egan was equally as nice, incredibly warm and upbeat for a woman whose entire job was working with dying patients. After greeting him, and explaining her role in making him as comfortable as possible, she sat down by Doctor Rollinson to talk about chemo therapy.

Which had been unexpected, to say the least. Buck had been under the impression it was too late for it.

"Will that even work this late?".

Doctor Egan gave him a gentle smile, clasping her hands together on her lap. "It will help slow the progression of cancerous cells down, hopefully stop the tumour from spreading anymore. Those taking it are far more likely to live past a year. However many advanced patients decide that the side effects aren't worth the extended time, as it impacts what time they do have left. What's most important is that you're comfortable."

So, really, it was a question of how much he was willing to give for a chance at more time with his daughter.

"Another option is external beam radiation therapy, though that comes with its own risks. Did you read through the pamphlets I gave you?" Rollinson added.

Buck drew his shoulders in, growing a little sheepish at having to admit he'd sort of been trying to bury his head in the sand, and had yet to look. "My friend did. He's a medic, and he's helping me out with all this." He wouldn't have even known to come here today if not for Eddie.

"That's good," Egan said with an encouraging nod, "Go over it with him, take your time and decide how you want to go about doing this. We can always do a trial with the chemo medications, and if you decide you want to stop it we can."

Rollinson began scribbling on a piece of paper, handwriting increasingly illegible, "I'm scheduling you in for another check up a week from now, is any particular time preferable?"

He didn't have work next Tuesday.

Buck wondered how long it'd be for him to not have work at all. 

He shook his head. "Any time is fine. Around mid day maybe?"

Rollinson nodded, and passed him the paper to go along with his new pharmacy note. 

To add to that, Egan gave him a card with her work number on it, "Call if you feel a rapid decline, or have any questions. My team and I are here to make this go as smoothly as possible for you, we can arrange additional support if necessary."

Buck didn't really know what to do with that, other than give an awkward smile and several thank yous, as he made his way out of the office and down to the waiting room, preparing for an interrogation.

~~~~~

Buck found it morbidly interesting to pinpoint what stages of grief his family represented.

Upon finding out, Eddie had teetered on denial, but very quickly shifted more so to rage as the days went. Mad at the whole entire world, it seemed.

When Buck went into Bobby's office, sitting opposite him to break the news that he maybe couldn't be of much help at work anymore, his Captain moved straight to bargaining, with a mixture of depression. His hands clasping together on his desk, neck bending forwards to rest his head on them, before sending out an immediate tearful prayer. Pleading with the God Buck wasn't sure existed to spare him, before leaning over the desk to pull him into a hug. "You need to be okay, I'm going to make it okay. You're going to be okay, kid."

Athena was bargaining too, though in a different way. While Bobby took it up with God and on an unreasonable level himself, she bargained with Buck. "Listen to me. You're going to get through this, because you are Evan Buckley and you never give up. So don't start now!"

Maddie, depression. Without a doubt. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it-" her sobbed explanations trailed off, hands clasping over her pregnant belly as she stood up to fling herself at him, her tears soaking into his shirt in seconds. "You can't- no, not again, please-"

It didn't stop.

Not until Chimney came in.

Begrudged acceptance.

With wet eyes and a shaky lip, he and Hen both helped Buck organise himself. Talked through his medical plan, helped it all make a little more sense, better than a restless and agitated Eddie could. Calm, patient, reliable. 

Chimney talked to Buck about losing his Mom to cancer at fourteen. "What helped me was the videos she made. Just of her talking in her final months. It felt like she wasn't quite gone."

Everyone else had been refusing to acknowledge the possibility of his death so directly, so it had been a welcome breath of fresh air.

Buck very much appreciated the idea of what he could do for Tilly, in the event of his passing. 

First though, with no more adults to tell, he needed to break it to her. Something he'd been staunchly avoiding.

What sort of grief would a four year old girl have?

"Matilda, can you sit down please? Daddy has to talk to you about something important." Buck patted the couch cushion next to him, Eddie standing at his side with a steadying hand on his shoulder.

After much consideration, Eddie was there to help him break the news with his daughter, just like Buck had helped when Eddie told Chris about Shannon.

Said seven year old was in his room, playing a game with his headphones on. He was being told afterwards.

Tilly stood up, her face furrowing with worry upon hearing her full name and the serious tone it had been said in.

"Bad?" she asked quietly, tilting her head like a puppy. Already, Buck wanted to cry. And probably would have abandoned his decision to go through with this had Eddie not been there.

"No, you weren't bad, baby, c'mere," he extended out his arms and she came running in to them, getting placed on his lap for a cuddle. Buck breathed in and out, copying the movements of Eddie's chest behind him.

He'd gone over what he was going to say with Eddie. Planned it out again and again, researched how to talk to kids about these kinds of things. Everyone agreed that honesty, and clear concise language, was the best way to do it. But how do you explain death to a kid who'd never heard of it before? She was a baby.

"You know how Daddy's been sick lately? And went to the doctor?" he asked, beginning to run his fingers through her hair, more to soothe himself than her.

"Made you all better?" she asked with a hopeful expression.

Hope that he was going to have to stomp on and crush.

He glanced to Eddie for support, and his friend just gave his arm a squeeze and an encouraging nod.

Buck began to rock back and forth a little, with her in his arms. "Well, they found out that Daddy might be too sick to get better. I'm- I'm really really sick, and sometimes when people get too sick, they-" oh, God. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. Please, God, why can't this just be one big nightmare he could wake up from? He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "They die. Do you know what dying means?"

Tilly shook her head, her nose scrunched up in confusion. 

He couldn't. She was so innocent, her world so pure. Buck was going to ruin it.

Eddie must have sensed from his increasingly ragged breathing that he was unable to explain, because he stepped in to the conversation after a painful lull, during which Buck tried not to have a complete meltdown in front of his daughter. That would only make it all worse.

"When someone dies, their body stops working. Their heart stops beating, and they don't breathe or talk or move anymore. And we have to say goodbye to them," Eddie explained, well practiced, an echo of his words to a then five year old Christopher, his voice carefully neutral as his nails dug into Buck's shoulder from his tight grip.

Tilly stared at them both, her little mind taking some time to process that. Buck sensed it coming when the tears suddenly exploded out of her, fingers clutching on to him like her life depended on it.

"I don't want Daddy to die!" she shrieked, thoroughly heartbroken. And all Buck could do was squeeze her close, "Nooo, don't leave me! I be good, I be good!"

Fuck, fuck.

This was his worst nightmare come true.

His daughter feeling abandoned, unwanted. Thought it was her fault that he was leaving.

He had to close his eyes as the tears fell, so as to combat the nausea rolling through his stomach. "You are good, you are so good. Daddy doesn't want to die, or say goodbye, but I might not be able to help it, I'm sorry," he choked out, cursing himself for being so emotional when it only increased the girl's hysteria.

He was supposed to be the strong one here. He was supposed to keep it together.

Luckily, they had Eddie. Brave, strong Eddie who was still by his side even though anyone else would have left him alone to deal with all of this, he was sure.

"Even if Daddy's not with us anymore, you can still talk to him, and he'll be able to see and hear you. Chris' Mommy died, and we go to where she's resting and we talk to her as often as he wants," Eddie spoke softly, wrapping both her and Buck in to a hug. 

Tilly continued to hiccup and sob- Buck had never heard her cry so ferociously before- and Eddie glanced over to Christopher's room to make sure the seven year old hadn't heard anything.

"We're saying bye now?"

"No, I'm not dying now, okay, baby? Just... I might." It had been difficult to decide whether to still leave her with some hope for his recovery, hope he'll live, or to just prepare her for the worst case scenario. In the end, Buck couldn't fathom worsening the situation by making it sound like a definite probability. "I'm going to be sick for a long time. But I'm going to fight, so hard, to stay with you for as long as I can, okay?" He extended his pinkie finger out, trying his best to not break down into hysterics with her watching. 

The finger went ignored for a long while, as Tilly continued to sob her heart out into his shirt, dampening the fabric.

Eventually she exhausted herself and slumped against his chest, her body shaking with residue hiccups and tears continuing to roll down her round cheeks.

"Forever and ever?" she asked, staring dazedly at the finger, her voice a little raspy sounding now.

Buck bit at the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming, ducking his head in shame.

"Nobody can stay forever and ever, but your Daddy will always love you. And that love will always be right there in your heart," Eddie said, nudging at her chest. 

Buck couldn't put into words just how much he loved Eddie in that particular moment. Just how grateful he was.

After a few more seconds, Tilly wrapped her tiny pinky around his, the promise sealed.

Well. Looked like Buck was going straight into chemotherapy after all.

Joy oh joy.

~~~~~

Needless to say Halloween was ruined, despite all attempts to still make it special for the kids, to enjoy what Buck deep in his heart was sure would be his last one. 

They'd had costumes planned for a while. Christopher had gotten a Nintendo for his birthday, and had grown an obsession for Mario kart. So, of course, he wanted to be Mario, and wanted his Dad to be Luigi, and Buck Bowser. Tilly had never played it, not showing any interest in video games just yet, but when they looked through the characters she'd said that Toad was cute, so that was what she was going as.

She'd been super excited to wear the big mushroom hat, and to see them all dressed up, too little to really remember last Halloween when they were all superheroes so it was like a completely new experience to her.

Her mood had been fluctuating, on the days leading up to Halloween, since being told what was happening to Buck. Going between uncharacteristically clingy and quiet, and her normal energetic self. So Buck had hoped that celebrating would help to cheer her up, but instead it had quite the opposite effect. 

Tilly had been decidedly miserable all morning, sleep deprived after having nightmares of him abandoning her all night, and quietly sulking into her breakfast. 

They went to Eddie's to carve pumpkins, and she'd sat on Buck's lap the whole time letting him do most of the work, so different to her usual independent self.

She only giggled a bit when he flung some of the slimy pumpkin's innards at her, telling her that they were its guts. 

Then they made pumpkin pie with said 'guts', before beginning to get dressed. However rather than smile, Tilly's bottom lip began to wobble as he pulled on her costume- which he'd had to hand make most of, as there weren't a lot of Toad costumes past baby size- her fingers clinging on to him like he was the only thing keeping her steady.

When asked what was wrong she just cuddled into him, and after a long hug Buck eventually passed her over to Eddie to hold whilst he got changed, hoping that would cheer her up.

And she did, thankfully, love seeing him in the stupidly bright yellow costume with the character's face on the hood. 

She pointed and laughed from where she sat on Eddie's lap, as he pretended to be the grumpy turtle character, before snatching her back in to his arms and hoisting her into the air, kicking and squealing.

It was Chris, actually, who was decidedly not impressed despite being the one to pick the costumes out. The seven year old frowned at him from beneath his red cap and painted on moustache, which was an unfairly funny sight.

And Buck didn't know what he'd done wrong, but the kid became as sullen as Tilly had been, even after they left to drive over to a rich neighbourhood for trick or treating. Eddie pulled the boy aside to whisper to him as they all got out of the car, seeing if he was alright, but the seven year old just shrugged in reply.

Buck was surprised when Christopher wordlessly took a hold of his hand as they walked up to the first house with candy buckets in hand.

And was completely blindsided when the seven year old looked up at him before coming out with a blunt "you're gonna die," as they walked down the street. Buck stumbled in his steps, caught off guard. Christopher blinked up at him, his eyes impossibly wide, only magnified by his glasses. "I don't want you to die," the boy then concluded. Incredibly factual.

And ouch. 

This was the first time Christopher had actually spoken- to him at least- about what was happening. He'd deflected and ignored both Buck and Tilly whenever they brought it up. So, the unprompted acknowledgment had truly thrown him off. 

And Eddie too, based on the way he peered back at them whilst being tugged along by a- thankfully too busy chattering to listen- Tilly down the sidewalk. Alarmed.

"I know, buddy, I'm sorry," Buck said, with a heavy sigh. He was very sorry, about everything. 

Christopher looked down at his feet.

"It's okay," he graciously replied. Which was good, because Buck didn't know what he'd do if Christopher started begging for him to stay like Tilly kept doing. "We'll visit you like we visit Mommy. And bring sandwiches."

He should have seen that coming. Chris was, unfortunately, already accustomed to people he loved dying.

And soon so would Tilly be. She was almost the age Chris was when he lost his Mom.

He caught a glimpse of Eddie's heartbroken expression, before the man quickly turned his attention back to Tilly when she screamed, pointing excitedly at a woman dressed up as Tiana.

Buck swallowed back the grief. "With extra peanut butter?" 

That must have been the right reply, because Chris grinned up at him and gave their hands a little swing. "Yeah. And strawberries and chocolate. And those icky smoothies you like."

Wow. What a charmer. Just like his Dad. 

"Thanks, buddy," he preened, letting go of the boy's hand to instead place it on his shoulder.

It didn't take long for Buck to get exhausted, in too much pain to carry on.

He felt like sobbing, as he recalled how last year he'd been the one convincing Eddie to stay out longer, ending the night carrying both kids and candy buckets back to the car with ease, whereas this year he could barely manage holding Tilly for a little while when she got clingy again.

He was so weak. Pathetic. A disappointment to both his daughter and his best friend. They all deserved better than dealing with his mess.

Buck essentially collapsed in to the passenger seat, leaving Eddie to buckle both kids in. 

The worst part of it all was that he knew he was only going to get worse from here. It was a long, yet painfully short, road ahead of him. And he had no choice but to go along with the bumps and hurdles, and try to make the journey as smooth as possible for his daughter.

To try and keep it together. 

Because Athena was right, he was Evan Buckley and he did not know when to give up. So it was damn well time he started trying.