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Summary
It’s been two or three hours. Buck has been cleared by Hen, by Eddie, by Chim and is finally given permission to go home. He is bone tired, his mouth tastes like dust and he is looking forward to dropping on his couch, putting on a nature documentary and passing out.
Life, it turns out, has other plans.
Eddie is waiting by his Jeep. His white shirt is dirtied to the point of non-recovery and his hair filled with nearly as much dust as Buck’s lungs. But he’s smiling, like not a day has passed since he left for El Paso, and Buck fills his chest flutter with longing for a past simpler time.
OR: my post s8 fix it fic with lots of miscommunication, angst and fluff
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