Chapter Text
The inside of Eddie’s head was constantly loud. Chaotic. He’d learned to navigate the noise by ignoring it, tuning out the clamor until it dulled to a distant hum. But that strategy had its flaws—like how he sometimes couldn’t explain the decisions he made, or why he found himself wide awake at two in the morning with his heart racing, dread squeezing his chest until he could barely breathe.
Moving to El Paso was the right decision. It was for Chris, his son. His job as a parent was to provide for his child, and he couldn’t do that from three states away.
Even if it made him feel like the world’s worst friend to everyone he cared about. To his team. To Buck. Buck, who couldn’t look him in the eye without that tight, fake smile. Impostor Buck, who helped him with real estate agents, cooked him dinner, and sat in his living room discussing the logistics of another move while his whole face screamed: he didn’t want Eddie to leave.
But being a father meant making tough decisions.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
He still hadn’t talked to Bobby. That should’ve been next on his to-do list: sitting down with his boss to discuss timelines and possibilities. It was the responsible thing to do. Not that Eddie had made a final decision, but it loomed on the horizon, a choice he was inching closer to every day.
Buck had been talking to him for a few minutes now, but Eddie barely registered the words. His head felt like it was full of bees, the low buzzing drowning out everything else. It had been getting harder and harder to multitask lately. “I’m sorry,” Eddie interrupted, blinking back to focus. “What were you saying?”
Buck sighed, a long exhale that spoke volumes. “I think you and Chris should talk in detail—face-to-face—before making such a drastic step.”
Buck had this particular look when he disagreed with something. A mix of incredulous disbelief and resigned disappointment, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline as his shoulders sagged under the weight of whatever Eddie had just said. Eddie could see that look now, clear as day.
“We’ve talked,” Eddie said defensively.
“And?” Buck pressed.
Eddie’s stomach tightened. He didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I don’t think this is something you guys should solve over Facetime,” Buck said. His voice was measured, calm, but the words hit hard.
The screen—that stupid screen. Eddie clenched his jaw. Talking to Chris over a computer was the whole problem. No—his parents were the problem. Or maybe they’d been right all along, always doubting him, always—
Eddie scrubbed his hands over his face, cutting off the spiraling thoughts. He was so damn tired. He just needed his son. He’d do whatever it took to get him back.
The sharp clap of Buck’s hands snapped Eddie out of his haze. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Buck said firmly. “We’re going to drive to El Paso, and you’re going to talk to Christopher. Face-to-face. Before you uproot your whole life.”
Eddie blinked, his brain lagging like a slow computer booting back up. Buck, on the other hand, looked completely collected, one hundred percent certain of his plan. Sometimes Eddie felt like he was running on autopilot, and in moments like this, it was a relief to let someone else take the controls for a while.
So, he packed a bag. He called Bobby to arrange time off. He plotted the most efficient driving route, since last-minute airline tickets to Texas were out of the question. The next hour passed in a blur of preparation and mental exhaustion.
It wasn’t until Eddie froze in the middle of his hallway, the weight of it all catching up to him, that his sluggish brain finally processed something. He turned to Buck, who was busy with his phone.
“Hold up,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. “Did you say we?”
It was only an eleven-hour drive. Eddie had made the trip a few times in the last couple of years. It would have been wise to leave early in the morning and get there by evening, but a big storm front was moving through the plains, making the trip an unbearable nightmare.
Eddie wasn’t a fan of driving at night, but he wasn’t the one behind the wheel. “My truck would have been a lot roomier, just saying.”
“Your brakes were squeaking,” Buck countered, “and you didn’t drop it off at the service place.”
This was true. He and Buck were going to carpool while his truck stayed overnight. Except in the chaos of deciding to move back home, a few things fell by the wayside.
“Not to mention the driver gets to pick the music,” Buck’s half-grin was just this side of cocky.
Said music was a mix of old country, classic rock, and pop songs Eddie recognized but couldn’t name the artists.
Eddie adjusted his seat for the tenth time. Buck’s jeep had good legroom and was reliable off-road, but it was hell on the back when it came to long-distance trips.
“Thirdly,” Buck glanced over at Eddie, “you like being chauffeured around.”
“I do not.”
Buck snorted good naturedly. “You either conveniently forget your keys, or don’t have enough gas in the tank, or—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved at him.
“Besides,” Buck said with a grin. “You have a lead foot.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “It was one time,” he mumbled.
He’d driven the ambulance to a scene of an eight-car pileup and got creative with the vehicle's limitations. Hen subsequently banned him from driving unless Chim, Buck, and almost anyone else at the station wasn’t available.
Traffic in L.A. was a behemoth compared to the quieter roads of his hometown in Texas. Even after living there for seven years, it still felt like he was rolling the dice every time he pulled out of the driveway.
Buck strummed his fingers against the steering wheel to some catchy tune as they left Southern California and entered Arizona. This was one of many barren stretches of desert road with nothing for miles but dust, rocks, and lizards. They were an hour away from any destination outside national parks and Native reservations.
Eddie glanced outside as the sun set, watching it cast shadows across Buck’s face. Buck, who’d hopped in his jeep without hesitation to drive Eddie eleven hours to see his son, stepping into his mess and not looking back. Like he always did.
A lump formed in Eddie’s throat. He curled his fingers into his armrests, riding out a wave of guilt and gratefulness.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking.
Buck glanced over at Eddie. “For what?”
“For coming. For.…” Eddie sighed, not finishing any more self-deprecating thoughts.
Buck opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Eddie shook his head. “Just spit it out.”
“For the record, I know you didn’t make the decision lightly. You feel out of control, and this is your way of taking back your autonomy.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
Buck released a heavy breath. “I don’t know if it’ll fix anything. Moving doesn’t solve what’s broken, you know?”
Eddie looked away, his voice bitter. “Seems to be a habit of mine. Breaking things I can't fix.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I broke my son. Broke his mother first.” Moisture welled up in his eyes; failure was a weight inside his chest, a thousand negative thoughts chastising him in his head. “Hell, I’ve been broken since...I can't even remember when.”
“You're not broken, Eddie.”
Eddie laughed incredulously. “You found me on the floor after I took a baseball bat to my room. I scared my son so badly he called you. I had to take leave from work…. I….”
“Was struggling. After getting shot. Mental health issues are common with veterans and first responders. It impacts tens of thousands of people every year.” Buck glanced over at him. “Hey,” he said, smacking Eddie’s arm. “Seriously. You’ve been through hell and back. Maybe cut yourself some slack.”
Eddie looked off in the distance. “Doesn’t excuse what I did.”
“No one faults you for wanting a do-over. If the roles were reversed and I could kiss a loved one more time, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Eddie gripped the armrest even harder. He didn't correct Buck about kissing Kim. He’d let her inside his home. He created the catalyst for Christopher's pain and anger.
Poor decisions didn’t absolve him of the repercussions, regardless of what Father Brian said. Eddie had taken his advice. He’d let go of his barriers and lived in the moment whenever possible, experiencing silly joys.
But wasn't he choosing joy now? Christopher was the biggest source of happiness in his world. This road trip was a step in finding it again.
Despite all his self-reassurances, a voice deep down cast doubt. He had more sources of joy. Didn’t he?
Eddie rested his head against the headrest, trying to quiet the noise inside his mind. He tried to do the right thing but always seemed to fall short.
Silence filled the inside of the jeep.
Eddie glanced over at Buck; his face obscured by shadows except for the dim illumination from the dashboard. Even in the low light, Eddie noticed his tight expression, the way Buck's fingers gripped the steering wheel, the forced sense of calmness, the heavy frown. Everything about Buck screamed tension. Sorrow.
Eddie squeezed his eyes closed knowing he was partially to blame. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For—”
A loud bang cut off Eddie’s next words, the jeep jerking forward, the seat belt jerking across his chest, the vehicle tail-hooking.
Buck struggled with the steering wheel. “Hang on!”
But they were going too fast.
As the jeep rounded a sharp bend its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge.
Tires screeching in protest, the jeep plummeted down a steep embankment, tumbling wildly through the air before crashing violently against the rocky ravine.
It was like being on a roller coaster from hell. The jeep hit a massive bump, spinning it sideways.
Eddie braced himself for a rollover with the sudden shift in the vehicle's center of gravity. But before he could even shout a warning, a tree loomed fast in their path.
In an instant, everything went black.
There was groaning nearby. A loud, guttural sound. Instinct told Buck to check on whoever was making that sound. Except he couldn't—his head felt like it had been split open and someone was pounding a chisel into the back of his skull.
He tried opening his eyes, but his stomach swirled and he fought hard to not vomit.
As seconds ticked by, the groaning grew louder, and the nausea more insistent.
“I’m...coming,” Buck gasped.
He shivered. It was freezing.
Something wet dripped down his face, and when he tried to wipe it away, his hand wouldn’t work.
The groaning continued until he realized he was the one making the awful sound.
What?
He tried to lift his head, but the moment he raised his forehead, the chisel seemed to drive through his left eye, and he slumped back into darkness.
The next time Buck broke the surface of consciousness, a dull throbbing greeted him, followed by the awful sensation of someone stepping on his fingers. As the seconds ticked by, the throbbing worsened, forcing him to wake up just to yell at whoever was stomping his hand.
He couldn't lift his head, so he settled for opening his eyes, reality slowly piercing through the fog of his brain. The sounds of creaking metal and the pungent smell of gasoline assaulted his senses. Gravity pulled on every part of his body, a sharp edge pressed into his chest, and the throbbing in his fingers grew stronger and stronger—
Buck cried out in pain. His hand trembled, his head swam, and grayness edged his vision as he started to pass out again.
No, no, no, he had to stay conscious, had to stay awake. Had to—
He finally pushed himself up, the world swaying and spinning, the person stomping on his hand seemed to be grinding it into the pavement.
Blood dripped down his cheek, his nose, pooling on his shirt. Taking a shuddering breath, he looked down at his left hand. It was puffy and swollen. Damn it. He must have been holding onto the top of the steering wheel when the airbag deployed.
Speaking of…
The deflated airbag was pooled around his thighs, taking up most of the dash.
Jeep. He was in his jeep. And it reeked of gasoline.
Fuck. Not good. Not good.
His thoughts were scrambled, his face throbbed, and his vision swam. But there was a light from somewhere, an overhead roof light.
Blood still dripped down his face.
What the hell happened?
The wind rustled his hair. He was outside. In his jeep.
Wait. He was going somewhere. He was….
He turned his head toward the passenger seat, his breath catching in his throat. “Eddie. Eddie, can you hear me?”
Eddie didn’t respond.
Panic sent his pulse skyrocketing. “Eddie, please say something.”
Calming his breathing, Buck tried to assess the situation. His body was hanging toward Eddie, his seat belt keeping him from sliding. Which meant the jeep was at an angle?
He glanced at the windshield and saw only darkness staring back at him. But even in his dissociated state, he could tell something was off, like the jeep was on uneven ground.
“Eddie? I’ve got to….” He tried releasing the seat belt to no avail. “I think I’ve got a pocket knife. Hold on. Okay?”
He always kept a pocket knife in his right pocket. Except now, moving felt like an exercise in hell, every movement sending a twinge of pain through his body, his left hand throbbing like a giant pulse. Gritting his teeth, he reached with his good hand into his jeans pocket, pulling out the knife while breathing through the pain.
His face pulsated, his vision fuzzing again. He kept reminding himself what he was trying to do.
Grabbing the knife, he cut through his seat belt. But his body didn't tumble toward Eddie like he thought. Instead, he was stuck in his seat.
“What the hell?”
His legs were trapped under the dashboard. Not pinned. Just….
“Give me a second, I’ve got to…ouch, fuck. My knee.”
His knee was swollen, probably from smacking the underside of the steering column.
He couldn’t put any weight on his left hand, which was growing more and more painful. Buck shifted, grabbing the steering wheel with his right hand, using it as leverage, his legs scrambling until he pulled them free.
He had to move quickly, shoving one foot onto the center armrest and the other, fuck that hurt, along the dashboard with the radio, trying to crawl toward Eddie.
Buck took a chance to look out the cracked windshield. They had run off the road and gone down a hill or ravine, coming to a stop against a tree on the passenger side where Eddie was currently sitting.
He swallowed his fear, crawling over until he was squashed against the center dashboard. “Eddie?”
Kneeling on his good knee, he felt for a pulse, finding a weak, thready beat beneath his fingers. “Thank God.”
Buck quickly ran through his options. He didn’t dare move Eddie, not knowing what type of injuries he’d sustained. But he had no idea where they were. His body trembled with the strain of moving, dizziness sweeping over him again.
He started to lean all his weight where the center armrest had been pushed up, his body becoming heavy. But something told him to stay awake, primal instincts deep inside, alerting him to the telltale burning odor.
“Do you smell that?”
He and Eddie had been to too many automobile accident scenes where the crash had damaged the wiring or battery, which could lead to overheating or sparks. It was obvious the jeep was already leaking gas.
“Eddie.” Leaning all his weight onto the center section of the seat, Buck tapped Eddie's face with his good hand. “Eddie, wake up.”
Buck pinched Eddie’s earlobe. “Edmundo Diaz, wake up!”
Eddie’s head jerked in response, his eyes blinking wildly.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry, I just needed you awake.”
Eddie looked up at Buck with a dazed expression before squeezing his eyes closed with a groan.
“What hurts?” Buck demanded.
“Ribs,” Eddie gritted out. He took a shaky breath. “Leg. Not sure.”
“Okay. Okay. Just give yourself a second to breathe.” But the burning smell was intensifying, and Buck wasn't sure how long they could wait. “But I think we have to evacuate.”
Eddie stared at Buck. “Why?”
“Because the jeep might catch on fire.”
And because fate had it in for them, Buck noticed flames flickering at the rear of the vehicle. “Correction. The jeep ison fire.”
Eddie fumbled with his seat belt, but Buck was quicker, starting to cut through the thick belt. “Do you think your leg is broken?”
“Not sure,” Eddie pressed down on his right thigh, his hand coming away stained with blood. “But this isn't good.”
Buck bit his lip, looking around.
His jeep had a hard-shell roof that required tools to remove. The only way to escape was through the driver's side.
He returned his attention to Eddie. “Are you pinned?”
“Negative.” The flames must have reached the spare tires stored on the back door, filling the air with burning rubber. Eddie must have smelled it too. He pinned Buck with a look. “Start making your way out. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Show me that you can get out of your seat first.”
Eddie tried climbing out from where he was wedged against the door, the inside of the jeep filled with his pain-filled struggle. But it was obvious he wouldn't be able to climb out on his own. Buck thought fast. “I’m going to turn around. Reach over and grab my belt, and I’ll try to haul you up.”
“Go,” Eddie encouraged.
It was difficult to maneuver in such a cramped space. Buck jarred his shoulder on the interior roof, his battered and bruised body protesting any further movement.
With a hand on the dashboard, he climbed back up, his boots scrambling over the center seat.
Eddie had curled his fingers around the back of Buck's belt, the tugging weight almost pulling Buck back down.
Eddie made a guttural sound, panting for air. Buck had to reach down to find the door handle, letting out a pained growl. “Come on, come on.”
Things started spinning, and Buck struggled with the handle. Finally, the door opened, and Buck had to use all his strength to push it forward, fighting against gravity and the fact that the car was lying on its side.
“Fuck. I can't...I….”
Buck felt Eddie wrap both arms around his waist and, like a linebacker in football, shove him forward, the momentum forcing the door open. But gravity was stronger, and the door started swinging closed.
Buck placed himself between the closing door and the frame of the car, he and Eddie forcing it back open again. The two of them scrambled out in a flurry of adrenaline before spilling onto the ground below.
Landing on his hands and knees, stunned and dizzy, Buck rolled onto his back and stared at the mangled wreckage resting precariously on an uneven, brush-filled slope. Flames engulfed the spare tire.
“Do you have a med kit in there?” Eddie asked, his voice like crushed glass.
“What? Yes?”
Despite his obvious injuries, Eddie staggered to his feet and limped back to the jeep.
“What the hell, Eddie? Stop!”
Buck tried standing, but the world wavered under his feet, and he sank back down to his knees. Eddie had already opened the door to the back seat and pulled out the med kit stored under the driver’s seat.
He made it three steps before collapsing, the med kit skidding across the ground.
Buck made a strange sound in his throat and finally succumbed to the head injury he’d been ignoring.
Eddie shivered. Did he leave a window open? He tried pulling up the covers around him, struggling to find them, struggling to....
Breathe. It hurt to breathe. Like knives through his chest. Through his leg. He pressed his hand against the pain, his fingers coming away red.
Blood. Staining desert sand, spilling across asphalt. Flooding his lungs.
Eddie sputtered and gagged, his body shaking with the pain. He sucked in a large gulp of air, coughing himself into consciousness.
Finally, after getting enough air into his lungs and adjusting to the sharp, hot pain in his chest, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.
He was outside. The night air was cold and smelled of burning rubber. He was....
“Buck,” he wheezed, remembering the jeep going off the road, crashing down a hill, and into a tree. “Buck!”
He scanned the area. The med kit was a few feet away; he’d pulled it out of the burning jeep.
Eddie looked around, spotting Buck prone and unconscious a few feet away. The jeep was burning behind him, flames licking up the sides, casting an eerie glow, like out of a movie.
He crawled toward him, each movement sending waves of agony through his body. “Buck?”
Eddie checked his pulse, finding a strong, steady beat. Relief flooded him, but there was no time to waste. He started assessing him.
The airway was clear. Buck’s breathing was even; his color was on the pale side, but not concerning. There were no signs of blood.
“Buck. Can you hear me?” Eddie patted his face, his own hands trembling. “Buck. Talk to me.”
Buck’s eyes slowly opened, unfocused and glassy. “Eddie?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“You okay?”
“Relatively.”
“And the jeep?”
Eddie glanced over at the smoldering vehicle. “I hope you have good insurance.”
Buck groaned. Eddie knew it was from more than just physical pain. Licking his lips, he continued checking Buck for injuries. “Where are you hurt?”
“My hand. It got caught by the airbag.” Eddie winced in sympathy. Buck continued with his self-assessment, his face pinched in pain. “My knee.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “My head.”
Eddie touched Buck’s face, checking his pupils. “What’s today's date?”
“The 10th.” And because he knew the routine, Buck rattled off his address and birthday.
While Buck’s cognitive assessment seemed fine for now, but Eddie didn’t like the way Buck was starting back at him. “Any dizziness, confusion?”
Buck’s face screwed up like he was taking on a big math equation. “Yes?”
Eddie bit his lip. Definitely a concussion.
He started examining Buck for other possible other injuries, Buck batting away his hand. “I’m good.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “What about you? How’s your leg?”
It wasn’t like Eddie was ignoring it per se, more like he’d pushed it aside for a couple of minutes while he determined if Buck needed care. Now that his attention had focused inward on his injuries, the nagging pain blossomed with this new attention.
“I should probably take care of it.”
Buck looked down at Eddie’s leg, his eyes going wide. “Yes, you should.”
Blood had soaked through the tears in the denim, the visual confirmation of his injury making it hurt more. He looked back over at the unattended vehicle fire. “What about your jeep?”
“We can't rescue it,” Buck said.
Who was going to rescue them was left unsaid.
Buck rummaged through the med kit and pulled out a pair of scissors. “Here.”
And despite of Buck’s concussion, he was still focused on Eddie, ensuring that he was being taken care of. Eddie swallowed against the sudden lump of emotion in his throat, because no matter the circumstances, Buck was always looking after him. Always there without question or judgment.
His brain whirled with thousands of thoughts and connections. The timing of which was not great. Buck would never leave him. He’d always be by his side. His other half.
Too bad he was coming to few conclusions while they were in the middle of nowhere.
“Eddie?”
Buck stared at him with that deep, worried look he got whenever Eddie was swimming in the deep end without a life jacket.
“I’ll be okay,” he told him.
Buck clenched his jaw but nodded. Trusting him without hesitation.
Eddie slit open his jeans down his thigh, exposing a deeper-than-expected laceration. “This must be from where the tree impacted with the passenger-side door.”
“That looks deep,” Buck said in concern.
Pain and adrenaline were a thing. So was shock. Buck was vibrating beside him with a need to help and Eddie probably wouldn't do a good job otherwise. He looked over at Buck and nodded, trusting him like he always did, Buck’s shoulders relaxing at being able to help.
They worked as a team. Buck irrigated the wound with saline and antiseptic, the burning sensation bringing tears to his eyes as Eddie forced himself to stay still. Between the two of them, they packed the laceration with gauze.
Eddie’s hands shook too much to be effective. Buck took over applying a heavy dressing, saying, “I’ve got this,” while wrapping it in place with tape.
At some point, Eddie had slumped back down to the ground, trying to breathe through the pain and adrenaline crash from treating the wound, every inhale like breathing in shards of glass.
“Eddie?”
“Just...give me a minute.”
Eddie wrapped his arms around his chest, using the same technique for anxiety attacks to calm and control his breath. To focus outward. Counting down from fifty until he reached zero. His hands still trembled.
Clenching his jaw, he slowly rolled onto his side, then pushed up into a sitting position beside Buck. “Can you move your fingers?”
Buck shook his head.
Eddie proceeded to examine Buck’s hand, more than mildly concerned that at least the first three fingers were broken. Without pain medication, this was going to take a toll. “Does your wrist hurt?”
“A little.”
Which was Buck-speak for a lot.
Eddie bit his bottom lip at the amount of swelling. He could immobilize Buck’s hand with bandages and gauze, but that didn’t replace a good X-ray. The bones needed to be set in an ER to heal properly. Buck was lucky the airbag didn’t injure his arm in the process.
“There’s probably some cold packs in the med bag to help with the swelling,” Eddie told him. Being first responders, they both traveled with extensive emergency kits.
“Buck?”
“Hmmm? What did you say?”
Eddie narrowed his eyes in worry. “I said there’s some cold packs in the kit.”
But Buck wasn’t quite with Eddie. To be fair, Eddie was riding on pure adrenaline. Tending to Buck kept his mind off the crushing pain in his side and the weird feeling he felt whenever he took a deep breath. Anxiety prickled at Eddie’s skin. Their situation was not great.
The flames from the burning jeep crackled in the background, casting a flickering light over the desolate landscape.
“We’re a mess,” Eddie muttered, trying to find humor in their dire situation.
“Yeah, but we’re alive,” Buck replied.
Eddie nodded, taking a deep breath despite the pain. He’d been in worse situations and survived. He’d make sure he and Buck got out of this one, too. Eddie's thoughts drifted to Christopher, the reason for their journey. He had to get back to him and bring him home.
“Do you have your cell phone?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence.
Buck shook his head, his face grim. “No signal. Yours?”
“I must have lost it in the crash.”
Eddie’s mind raced with the reality of their situation. It was night, with no real light except the moon. They were both injured without a way of escape and because this was a desert, the temperature was dropping rapidly.
“We need to find shelter,” he said. “We can’t stay exposed out here.”
Buck nodded. “Do you see anything?”
Eddie scanned the area, his eyes straining in the darkness. They were surrounded by rough terrain and vegetation, with no obvious places to take cover. But they couldn’t afford to be picky. “Maybe there’s a cave or some kind of overhang we can use for shelter.”
They wouldn't be able to explore for long given each of their limited mobility. But even a thick canopy was better than being out in the open.
Buck winced as he tried to stand. It wasn't much easier for Eddie. They helped each other to get upright, each offering an arm for support, grunting, and leaning on each other in a complicated set of maneuvers. Eddie dug his fingers into Buck’s shoulders, head bowed into his collarbone while he waited for the pain in his ribs to abate, each expansion of his chest agony.
Buck must have called out his name more than once because he felt Buck cling to him, hands clutched around Eddie’s biceps, his fear like an electric current through his muscle.
“Eddie, talk to me.”
But it was difficult to speak when he couldn’t breathe.
“Eddie. What are you not telling me?”
“I think I broke a couple of ribs.”
He could feel the moment when Buck’s first responder instincts dialed up to eleven. His breathing and the tension in his body increased. “I’m going to see if I can find a less steep way out.”
“No,” Eddie growled. “You can barely walk and have a head injury.
Buck dug his fingers into Eddie’s arms. “And you can barely stand.”
Eddie gathered himself. He couldn't move far, neither could Buck. But he was right about not staying out in the open when there was an approaching storm. A change in their environment could only exacerbate their conditions. One thing the Army taught him was to seek shelter when there was no means of evacuation.
Taking the deepest breath he could, Eddie locked eyes with Buck’s. “I’m good.”
Buck didn't believe him, but he wasn't doing much better. Eddie could see his mental gears shifting, trying to solve the problem and realizing there wasn’t an answer. His frustration was visible by his clenched jaw.
“Come on,” Eddie encouraged.
They began to hobble away from the jeep, each step an agonizing effort.
The ground was uneven and littered with rocks and debris, making their progress slow and painful. Eddie’s leg throbbed with each step, the laceration sending sharp jolts of pain through his body.
Buck’s knee buckled every few steps, his face pinched with pain, but he tried to hide it, not wanting to worry Eddie more than necessary.
The cold night air bit into their skin and the sound of their labored breathing filled the silence. Eddie’s leg felt like it was on fire. His ribs were another story.
After what felt like an eternity, they stumbled upon a small overhang in the rock face. It wasn’t much, but it offered some protection from the elements. Eddie helped Buck settle down, both leaning against the rock for support.
“This will have to do for now,” Eddie said, his voice strained. “We need to stay warm and try to rest a bit. We’ll figure out our next move in the morning.”
Buck shook his head, his face etched with determination. “No, we can’t just sit here. We have to….” He paused, shaking his head. “We should keep moving.”
Eddie frowned. “Buck, we’re not in any condition to go trekking through this terrain. We need to conserve our energy and stay warm.”
“Who’s going to look for us? We didn’t tell anyone we were doing this. What if we’re stuck here for days?”
The trip had been spontaneous. And they’d both agreed not to announce their arrival. Maddie and Bobby knew they’d left, but there’d be no reason to check in with them.
Buck was usually calm under pressure; when he spiraled, it was after the fact. His agitation was a worrying sign and Eddie needed to keep him focused.
“Hey,” Eddie said, resting hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Just breathe. We’re going to be okay.”
Buck bit his bottom lip, his entire demeanor restless. Eddie rubbed his hand up and down his arm. “I get it, but we’re injured and exhausted. Pushing ourselves now might make things worse.”
Buck squeezed his eyes closed, cradling his hand against his chest. “I just...I don’t want to sit around waiting for a rescue that might not happen.”
“I know,” Eddie said softly. “But sometimes the best move is to wait and regroup. We can start moving again once we’ve had a chance to rest and assess our options.”
“Alright,” Buck relented, leaning back against the rock. “But at first light, we start looking for a way out.”
“Deal,” Eddie agreed, relieved that Buck was willing to stand down.
And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the drizzle turned into a steady rain.
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