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Bobby knew from the moment that Evan Buckley entered the firehall that he was going to make life a lot more interesting.
What he hadn’t been prepared for was to meet another empath.
The moment he placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder, he’d felt a rush of emotions from him—much more than was normal, as Bobby tried to only use his powers with consent or when necessary.
The kid had looked frightened, despite his best efforts of hiding it, and so Bobby had taken a leap of faith and sent a bit of reassurance his way, before removing his hand.
The kid had sent him a grateful smile and something warm had rushed through him at the sight of it.
Buck, Bobby had quickly learned, was easy to read even without his powers. He wore every emotion on his face, his heart bled on his sleeves, and it was so painfully clear that all he wanted was a home.
Bobby… Bobby was content to play around with it for a while, maybe too content.
He’d gone for so long without letting anyone in too close, without getting tethered to a home, to another family that he didn’t deserve. His time on this Earth was limited, he couldn’t afford to get attached, couldn’t risk anything that would make him not want to stay. He couldn’t risk hurting anyone else with his plan.
Bobby needed to keep his distance. Lead. Be supportive, but be aloof. Avoid bringing personal lives to work. Avoid letting anyone get too close.
But then the kid barrelled into his life, crashing and knocking several things over, and he reminded him of himself—
God had a cruel sense of humour, bringing the first empath he ever met directly into his life with no way to escape.
And there was just something so broken, a pain that mirrored Bobby’s own, and the kid—while young—should’ve been old enough to have some grasp on his powers, but he hadn’t and Bobby—
Who else better to teach you than someone with the exact same powers?
So, Bobby’s plan changed—just ever so slightly. He’d save 148 lives and make sure the kid knew everything about his powers that Bobby could teach him.
He’d make sure to keep it professional—the kid having uncontrolled powers made him a risk at work. Him teaching Buck had everything to do with the job—even if it meant working on it outside work hours.
And when the first ‘Pops’ slipped out, Bobby couldn’t bring himself to shut it down, not when he could feel the shame and fear, not when Bobby was terrified of being the reason Buck felt that.
So, he played along.
And when Chimney or Hen called him out, he’d wave a hand, sprouting some bullshit about the kid just needing some guidance, or that really, he’s just trying to keep things professional.
He was just doing his job as Captain. He was just making it so everyone was at their best and did their jobs well.
That’s all it was.
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Everyone has good days and bad days.
Bobby’s life has just felt like a series of bad ones but the last few days have particularly sucked.
With Chimney being in the worst accident he’s ever seen…
It’s really shaken Bobby. More than he’d been expecting.
He’d just tried to tell the kid that they weren’t a family but—
It’d slipped out. He’d been unable to help himself.
A part of him hates himself for saying it. He had a family and he killed them. He doesn’t—he doesn’t deserve to have another one. He shouldn’t. Because by the look of things, Bobby is cursed. Bobby let himself call the 118 a family and Chimney nearly died.
He shouldn’t—
He can’t.
Bobby stares at the black book that’s become a burden as much as it is a promise of respite.
One hundred and two names left.
He’s been doing this for over a year and there are still so many left.
He misses his kids, he misses his wife. The idea of willingly waiting any longer to see them burns . It’s torture and—
It’s penance.
It’s what he deserves.
He stole 148 lives. He ruined even more.
He can’t go back to his family. Not yet.
Even if he saves 148 lives, it won’t be enough. Nothing could truly ever be enough. But at least it’s a concrete goal. One that makes sense.
So yes. Yes, he misses his family. Yes, he so badly wants to reunite with them.
But not yet. He still has one hundred and two lives to go.
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“So, Bobby. I gotta ask. What’s the deal with that book?”
When he hears Buck come up from behind him, he slams the book shut and stands up.
He really is not in the mood for Buck’s shit today.
“I know it’s a list of people you’ve saved,” Buck continues following after Bobby, really not getting the hint. “Right now there are 46 names in it. There’s a space for 148. Why that number?”
Bobby freezes, a mix of panic and disbelief running through him. “You read my book?”
“I-I mean I peaked, once or twi—”
Bobby sees red.
He slams Buck into the wall, gritting his teeth to hold back a growl as he says in a low voice. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Regret.
Regret and hurt.
And fear.
The panic flares under his skin for a moment, and it confuses him for a split second because none of these emotions are his own.
Then it clicks.
Buck trembles under his grip and Bobby falters like Buck had personally burnt him.
He aggressively lets go of him, turning around before he can linger on the betrayal that had lined Buck’s eyes.
The alarm rings and Bobby does his best to shove his feelings into a box entering Captain Mode.
However, the regret stays for the rest of the night, even while he firmly keeps his distance between the two of them.
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It’s chaos when they arrive and Bobby already knows in his gut that this is not going to be an easy call.
He can’t do much for the kid, not right now, but he does his best to be an anchor for him, gently reminding him to keep going every time they pass someone who didn’t make it.
The worry spikes in his stomach at each hesitant look back the kid gives, but—
He’s IC now. He can’t afford to think about it.
The bright streaks of flames on top of the sea are eerie in the moonlight and Bobby’s mind flashes to the River Styx, the souls of the damned reaching out, begging to be saved even though it’s far too late.
Bobby adds that to another thing in his box of compartmentalized emotions to think about later and instead focuses on saving the ones that can be saved.
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It’s as much a mess as he feared but he gives everyone their assigned tasks and it’s going surprisingly well until there’s one last woman.
She’s trapped, but Bobby refuses to leave her behind.
“Bobby, it is time to go.” Buck’s voice comes through the radio and Bobby fights back a frustrated noise at the distraction.
“Buck, evacuate all rescue personnel. Everyone off the plane now.” Bobby sends a quick reply back, before going to return his focus on the woman but—
“Yeah, that means you too Cap.”
Bobby is going to kill this kid.
“I need a minute—”
“A minute? In a minute, you’ll die.”
Bobby goes to send a retort back, but then—
“Do you have kids?” The woman asks, and Bobby barely hesitates before answering.
“Yes.”
He keeps his hand clasped around the woman’s as she tells him about dying when she gave birth and fighting to come back, and he lets all of her emotions run through him.
Determination. Love. Remorse.
“You are not going to die here,” Bobby tells her. “Because I am going to get you out of here. I swear on my life. If you go down, I’m going to go down. Okay?”
He sends back his own determination and reassurance.
They’re going to get through this.
“Just keep fighting. Just keep fighting.” Bobby squeezes her hand tight and the two of their emotions merge, swirling, swirling, swirling.
He doesn’t know why he’s latched onto this woman so tightly.
Or maybe he does know and doesn’t want to admit it.
Either way he’s made a pact with her and he’ll be damned if he breaks it. He’s getting her out. He will get her out—
And if a part of him is happy at the thought that maybe he will finally have a way to get out of the deal he’s made with God—
He squashes it.
He’s not about to pray for a woman’s downfall just because he doesn't want to rise above the water.
“Bobby!” Buck’s shout reaches him and dread fills his stomach.
No.
The kid is coming towards them and instantly fear strikes Bobby and it’s so sudden he doesn't know what to do with it so he turns it into rage.
“I told you to leave Buck!”
“You know I’m a terrible listener,” and Bobby swears he’s going to strangle the kid—
Buck has a plan though. The kid is genuinely more clever than any of them give him credit for and he has a strange urge to cry.
He doesn't have time to dwell on the mess of emotions that have hit him— the pride and fear and anger and love.
He does what he’s told and prays.
They make it out and the smile on his face is the first genuine one he’s shared in awhile.
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He watches the woman reunite with his son and one hundred and two names turns into one hundred and one.
Hen finds him there, watching, dwelling, reflecting.
“Well, that’s at least one family that’s got a lot to be grateful for. That’s gotta make you feel pretty good, right?”
Bobby can’t tear his eyes away even as she speaks to him. “...Yeah.”
Bobby should be happy. He should. And yet—
A colder, darker part of him can’t help but wish that had been his ending. That he had been able to reunite with his kids.
All he feels is empty. There’s a gaping wound inside of him. A part that aches to be able to hold his kids in his arms again—
And if he had just—
If they hadn’t—
He’d been so close.
So close to being with them again and being able to cradle them for as long as he would’ve liked.
He leaves before Hen can question him further, before he breaks down completely.
He beelines it to the shore.
He can’t leave—not yet. He’s still technically incident commander.
But he needs a breather.
He needs—
He stares at the waves.
God has made it clear today that he still wants Bobby here, that Bobby can’t get out of his deal that easily.
As much as he wants to let the salt water burn, as much as he wants to finally let his lungs collapse, as much as he wants to finally let go—
He has a deal to complete.
One hundred and one names left.
One hundred and one names and then he gets to see his family again.
In the end, he finds another way to let himself drown. The amber poison that is the whole catalyst for his deal manages to whisper in his ear and—
Well. There was no part of the deal that said he couldn’t let himself drown in this type of oblivion.
Just for tonight.
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Bobby wakes up to water splashing his face and for a moment he thinks he succeeded in drowning himself, before he looks up and sees Hen and Buck staring at him.
Fuck.
Showering doesn’t give him enough time to compose himself, but he tries his best, clenching his teeth as the two begin to question him.
Buck's uncharacteristically quiet as he speaks. “How long has it been?”
The exhaustion in his body is bone deep and Bobby finds that he’s too tired to avoid answering. “Five hundred forty six days. Forty five and a half if we're being picky.” Bobby sighs. He wasn't asking for specifics. “Days —Eighteen months.”
“That crash was hard core,” Buck tries to defend Bobby, hands nervously fidgeting with each other.
Bobby wonders if he's scared of him now.
He doesn’t know why the thought upsets him. Theoretically, the kid being more distant from Bobby is a good thing.
Hen comes back with a mug of tea then, chamomile Bobby assumes from the smell.
“Thanks,” Bobby says, avoiding eye contact with the two of them.
Shame burns his insides.
One of his senior paramedics and his fucking probie taking care of him.
What a joke.
“We all have our breaking point,” Hen says, voice quiet.
The silence isn't quite awkward, but it's heavy and it weighs on each of them.
Bobby keeps his gaze pointedly averted.
Hen breaks it again. “Who’re you cooking dinner for? There are four plates set.”
Bobby glares at the table, the same ache from last night returning, sinking its claws deep into him.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
Bobby shakes his head, closing his eyes and trying to avoid the sounds of his children's voices. “I don't know. I was drunk.”
Hen doesn't look convinced but she doesn't push.
Bobby forces himself to take a breath. Get it together, Bobby. He's the Captain. He's broken so many rules of professionalism already. He needs to get ahead of this.
“I am going to be fine,” he says, trying to convince himself, as he looks to Buck first and then to Hen. “It was a one time thing, I promise. Okay? I'm good.”
Hen’s expression is too heavy for Bobby, too knowing and so Bobby looks to Buck instead, which doesn’t end up being any better.
Buck’s eyes are rimmed with red and Bobby can just make out the shine of unshed tears. He looks so sad and full of regret and—
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Bobby looks away, trying to get the image of slamming Buck into the wall out of his head.
“I'm sorry I put you guys through this.”
Hen’s voice takes him out of his head. “You know why redwoods grow so high?” She smiles at him and it makes him feel coddled and he hates how comforted he feels. He can't let anyone in. He can't. “They move and bend with the wind. If you stay rigid, you'll break.”
Bobby swallows, closing his eyes and fighting back all the emotions that threaten to pour out. His chest burns with the intensity of it all and he has to take a deep breath to avoid any tears that are begging to come out.
“We all have our breaking point.”
Bobby knows this. Yesterday was simply more proof, but—
He can’t break with them here. He can’t break any further or he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to pick up the pieces again. These two have already done more than he’ll ever be comfortable with. He needs to pack it up and keep it together until at least they’re out of his apartment.
The lid on his box barely fits and it’s threatening to pop off at any moment but he squeezes tight onto it, forcing it to stay on.
He’s okay. He’s the Captain. He’s Robert Wade Nash. He’s got a hold on this. He has a handle on this.
Divert. Avoid. Deflect.
“You calling me uptight?” He quips, before turning to Buck and trying to get him on the bit. “She's calling me uptight, isn't she?”
Buck doesn't take the bait. It rolls and lulls at his feet pathetically, remaining untouched.
The kid is frowning but then it turns into the first smile Bobby’s seen from him today. “Maybe ask for help once in a while?”
And it’s so—
It’s so innocent, so simple.
Here you have this twenty six year old kid who’s seen Bobby’s absolute worst self and he’s still offering kindness.
He’s so young, but there’s a wisdom to his words and Bobby—
He looks away, tries one last attempt at wiggling his way out of this but Hen just nods, Bobby can hear the unsaid “It’s okay”, and the fight in him dies.
Bobby finally breaks.
“Help.”
The box that had been so carefully collecting all the broken bits and pieces of Bobby shatters, leaving all the pieces exposed, leaving Bobby exposed.
Without hesitation the two of them come and sit next to Bobby, putting their arms around him.
He's far too raw and exhausted to control his powers, his emotions radiating off of him, but neither Hen or Buck pull away.
They hold tight and from Hen— comfort, steadiness, worry, support, solace, ease.
There's a gentle sadness that radiates from Hen, but it's not pity. It's kinder and with a layer of understanding that Bobby hadn't been expecting.
From Buck— hesitance, discomfort, self conscious, hope, guilt, respect, awe, worry, tenderness.
Bobby feels guilt of his own run through him for putting the kid through this. He's the Captain, he shouldn't—he shouldn't be having to deal with this.
He's just a kid and Bobby's emotions are far too raw and deep for him to be feeling.
The kid clings to him though— warmth, reassurance, compassion— and Bobby can't find the will to pull away.
They stay even after Bobby pulls himself together, patience and warmth in abundance in a way that Bobby didn’t think he’d ever get again, that he still doesn’t believe he deserves , but is far too drained to fight against.
Hours later after dinner, a promise to go to an AA meeting the next day, and another set of hugs, Bobby allows himself to just exist rather than punish himself for the rest of the evening.
The book still lays on his bedside table as a heavy reminder, but for tonight he lets himself rest.