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Buck gets worried when Mark doesn’t come down to his room for a meal for the third day in a row; sometimes, if Buck’s bad, he won’t come down for a day or two. But three days is new, and Buck can’t think of anything that would have constituted him to need to be punished this much. His stomach is rolling with nausea at the idea of being left alone for so long, and with pangs of hunger from not being fed in so long (and not being fed properly in so long).
Buck’s room isn’t big, but Mark always tells him not to be greedy. There’s a mattress in one corner of the room, with a soft blue blanket and a pillow without a pillowcase. There’s a closet-sized room without a door that contains a toilet, sink, and a cup in case he gets thirsty and needs to drink water from the sink. There’s no mirror, and the cup is plastic. But he’s not greedy; Mark says if he’s too greedy he’ll lose privileges to that room.
During that first day Mark hadn’t shown up, Buck drank lots of water to quench the pit in his stomach. On the second day, he’d been too nauseous to drink any water at all. Earlier that day, the third day, he sipped some water from the cup and sat on the edge of his mattress, waiting for Mark to show up. Trying not to be too eager because Mark didn’t like to see his smile. But there were no footsteps upstairs. No sound of locks turning or doors opening, or even the TV. No glass bottle clinking. No grocery bags rustling. Nothing.
A pit in his stomach - this time not from hunger - was growing. Where was Mark? Who would come bring him food if Mark had moved away? Why wasn’t he here ?
As if summoned, the locks on the door at the top of the steps that led down to Buck’s room began to slide open and Buck tried to contain his giddiness. Mark! Mark was here!
“Fucking bitch.” Mark was groaning as he came down the steps after locking up behind himself. Buck bit the inside of his cheek as Mark came into view. Disappointment swirled in his gut when he saw Mark’s empty hands. Mark looked at Buck angrily. “You’re a slut, aren’t you? Yeah, fucking bitch. You probably like that.”
Buck bit back a whimper at Mark’s words. The plastic cup fell from his shaking hands and water splashed on the cold concrete floor. Rage filled every inch of Mark’s features and Buck began to cry.
“Shut up!” The first hit was expected, but it still stung Buck’s cheek and his heart as he was slapped. He stopped crying at once, but Mark’s fists kept coming down. His shoulder blades, his collarbone, his cheeks.
Mark grabbed ahold of his shoulders and shook him roughly, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath. Black spots danced in Buck’s vision, but he heard something odd. In the distance, there were sirens.
Apparently, Mark heard them too. He cursed, shoving Buck backwards so quickly Buck’s head slammed against the wall and stars spun around him. Mark rushed up the steps, but didn’t close the door behind him. He never left the door unlocked. Never ever . Buck stayed put; terrified, disorientated, and confused.
There were loud, clunky footsteps and clicking sounds upstairs. Shouting and screaming and loud bangs that had Buck slapping hands over his sensitive ears. He hadn’t heard this much noise in a long time-
“ Buck ?” Somebody said, muffled because Buck had his hands over his ears, and Buck realised he’d closed his eyes. Squinting them open, he saw a flood of light that had him slamming his eyes closed again with a whine. More footsteps thunked around his room, more clicking sounds. Somebody pushed glasses on his face and , confused, Buck opened his eyes again to see they were sunglasses. There was a woman crouched in front of him, wearing regular red glasses and wearing blue doctor’s gloves.
“Hey there, Buckaroo. How ya’ feeling?” The woman asked, and Buck made a confused noise when he noticed the flurry of people milling around his room, taking pictures of his things and him . He shied away from the woman’s outstretched hands. Her face fell and his lip wobbled.
“Buck?” A man, also wearing sunglasses, asked. He pushed his sunglasses off and crouched in front of Buck next to the woman. “Bu-Evan, do you know who we are? Do you know where you are?”
Buck shook his head at the man’s question, still confused. Both of their faces fell further and Buck scooched further away.
“Is he here?!” A voice called, and Buck winced, having not even really noticed his hands no longer over his ears. They twitched as if to go back up, but the man and woman began shushing the people in the room as another man came down the steps and looked around frantically, calming only when his eyes landed on Buck.
“Eddie-” The other man said, but the second man kept coming closer. Buck didn’t realize - there were a lot of things he kept not noticing - he’d been moving backwards until his back hit the wall. Old wounds on them burned and tears pricked the backs of Buck’s eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. The first man stepped in front of the second man and pushed him back a bit.
“Wha- Chim, let me see-”
“He doesn’t recognize us.” The second man froze.
“What?”
“He doesn’t know who we are.” The first man rephrased, peaking Buck as Buck’s cowering form. “He’s scared, and hurt. Give him a second to breathe.”
Buck’s attention was grabbed by the woman from before holding out something. When he turned, he saw her offering him a granola bar. His hand darted out and snatched the object, unwrapping it frantically and shoving it into his mouth like someone would steal it. Maybe they would , if he wasn’t fast enough.
“Hey, hey. Easy. Nobody’s going to take it from you.” The woman soothed, but she could be lying. Still, Buck forced himself to take smaller bites and chew longer. The granola bar had chocolate chips in it; the small bursts of flavor were heavenly in Buck’s dry mouth. When he was done, he took the offered bottle of water from the woman and drank it slowly. “I’m Hen.” She told him. “The man in sunglasses is Chim, and the other one is Eddie.”
The names were familiar, but when Buck tried to reach into his brain for why , the answer wouldn’t come. Out of instinct, he reached out and took her hand in his, tapping her ring finger. The action made Hen smile.
“I don’t wear my ring at work anymore.” She tells him, sitting down fully to take the pressure off her calves and ankles. “My wife seems to think I’ll lose a finger if I do.”
Buck nodded absently, looking into her eyes. They were kind; no malice hidden beneath the surface. Hen used her free hand to take his free hand in hers, using her thumbs to rub in circular motions on his hands. He scooted closer to her.
“Are you still hungry?” She asked kindly. Hesitantly, just to see what would happen, Buck nodded. She removed one hand from his and pulled an orange out of a bag, taking both her hands back to peel it. She broke off one piece at a time and handed him one piece at a time.
With each piece, he moved closer and closer towards her. Nobody else entered their calm bubble, and Buck’s eyes grew heavier as his stomach grew fuller. With the door open, his room was warmer than it usually was. Eventually, he had to slide off his mattress to keep being closer to Hen until he was basically in her lap. His breathing was steady and his blinks kept getting longer.
“Is he asleep?” Someone whispered nearby. Buck thinks it might’ve been Chim, but he can’t be entirely sure.
“I think so.” Hen responded in an even voice, and the person let out a relieved sigh.
“He looked so fucking scared of us, Hen.”
“I know, Chim. I know.” A hand began scratching his scalp and Buck burrowed further into the comforting warmth radiating from the body beneath him with a hum. “He didn’t recognize our faces, but he noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring under my gloves. What’re we going to tell Bobby?”
“I don’t know…” Buck fell asleep before he could hear the rest of what the other person was saying.
~~~
Buck had been missing for 2 months, 3 days, and 16 hours when they’d found Marcus Anthony’s car in the parking lot of a Walmart . Well, technically a rookie officer noticed the car’s familiar driver and trailed him back to his home, staying until Athena could arrive with a search warrant. The bastard ended up threatening to kill himself, so Athena had shot his shoulder then kept him alive until paramedics from the 16 could arrive.
“This bastard will rot in a jail cell, not in Hell.” Is what Athena had said; Hen wholeheartedly agreed with her.
Hen was the first one of the 118 to see Buck; she knew it’d be bad, but she didn't know it’d be this bad. There’s police taking picture after picture of the tiny basement Buck had been locked in, with Buck’s shaking frame on a dirty mattress. His hands clamped over his ears and eyes squeezed shut so tightly it looked like it hurt. She called his name, but when he opened his eyes, he whined at the light and Hen realized he’d been kept in this very basement the entire time . His face was a mess of black and blue, with fresh blood adorning scrapes on his cheeks and what was visible of his collarbone.
She grabbed the sunglasses off her own head and very carefully set them on Buck’s face. When Buck’s eyes blinked open a second time and didn’t shut immediately, his hands falling away as his shoulders hunched, Hen decided to speak.
“Hey there, Buckaroo.” She had to swallow the lump in her throat as she noted Chim coming down the steps from the corner of her eyes. “How ya’ feeling?”
Buck whined again, though it sounded more confused than in-pain. His head was rotating around the room, probably taking in all the unfamiliar people in the space he’d had to live in by himself for so long. But Hen could see his eyes when they landed back on her; there was no recognition whatsoever. The very idea that he had no idea who she was was too revolting to think about.
“Buck?” Chim was suddenly next to her, and she was very glad for it. She didn’t know how much longer she could take, especially since Buck’s lip began to wobble when he took note of her crestfallen features. Her arms - slightly outstretched as if to hug him - had fallen the second he flinched away from them. “Bu-Evan-” Chim continued, correcting himself while he cleared his throat. It sounded like he was swallowing sandpaper. “Do you know who we are?” No response. “Do you know where you are?”
Buck shook his head a minuscule amount, still shifting away from them like they were strangers - which we are right now , Hen realized. We are to him, at least.
“Is he here?!” Eddie’s voice came from the top of the steps, and any progress of calming Buck down was undone. His hands twitched, probably wanting to cover his ears again. Hen realized with a growing sense of dread that he probably wasn’t used to much noise at all, nor light. Hen frantically started to ‘sh’ the police around them, with Chim following his lead, albeit obviously with questions. Eddie flew down the steps when nobody replied, his eyes darting to where Buck was curled in on himself. It took five long strides towards Buck from Eddie before Chim was on his feet and ushering the other man away.
“Eddie-” Chim’s voice shook and he choked; Eddie’s eyes were locked on Buck, and when Eddie began to struggle against Chim’s hold to get closer to Buck, the terrified man scooted back until he was all the way against the wall. When his back brushed the concrete wall, Buck’s eyes filled with unshed tears and Hen yearned to check over whatever injuries were on his back.
“Wha-” Eddie sounded near-tears. They all knew how much of a toll Buck’s disappearance/kidnapping had taken on him. “Chim, let me see-”
“He doesn’t recognize us.” Chim blurted, wincing at his bluntness when Eddie froze, completely still. Hen tried to tune the boys out, because Buck was watching their interaction with wide eyes. First thing’s first; calm Buck down. She rooted around her medical bag before shaking her head and going through the fanny pack she always kept on her, stocked with snacks for her teammates.
“What?” Eddie’s voice continued in the background.
“He doesn’t know who we are.” Chim reworded as Hen snagged an orange and a granola bar from her bag. “He’s scared, and hurt. Give him a second to breathe.”
Hen caught Buck’s attention by holding the granola bar out to him. He snaked one hand out hesitantly, almost like he was testing as if it was a trick. Hen just kept her hand steady as he snatched the bar from her hand and curled back in on himself, wrapping his body protectively around the granola bar as he began to devour it like a starving man which - if his jutted-out cheekbones were anything to go by - he was. He ate a third of the bar in one big bite, barely chewing it before swallowing. Concern swirling in Hen’s gut.
“Hey, hey.” Buck's eyes snapped to hers; wide and frantic. “Easy. Nobody’s going to take it from you.” Not again , his eyes had pleaded when he looked at her. Let me have this .
You can have it , Hen tried to convey. You can have everything you want and more, even if you don’t know who I am right now .
When Buck finished the granola bar in slower bites and longer chews, though, Hen felt almost giddy. She handed him a plastic bottle of water after, and he took slow sips without Hen having to ask.
“I’m Hen,” She spoke as he drank, and he gave her a sideways glance, but the earlier fear was gone. Replaced with mostly hesitance and confusion. “The man in the sunglasses is Chim, and the other one is Eddie.” Hen continued when she knew he was listening.
Buck looked her up and down, but it didn’t seem like he was sizing her up. If anything, he looked more worried. His hand reached out again, but this time he took her gloved-hand in his and felt her ring finger.
Hen always wore her ring, even at work. Buck liked to take her hand in his and fidget with her ring when he was bored or the ride in the engine back to the station was taking too long. It was a soft ring, though; made for working, safe for working. But a week ago, Karen had gotten it into her head that Hen would somehow lose her finger because of the rubber ring she’d worn to work for three years straight. But when Karen has something planned, she gets it done. Hen stopped wearing any rings on her fingers.
The so-very- familiar feeling of Buck’s hand holding hers made tears spring to her eyes, but she blinked them away, worried it would trigger Buck and make him scared again.
“I don’t wear my ring at work anymore.” Hen explained, even if Buck probably wouldn’t really understand without the context of her life. Because - she bluntly remembers - he didn’t recognize her. A likely side-effect of long-term trauma. But Hen knew, in time, he’d remember. All the good, the bad, and the ugly they’d experienced together; him and the 118. And Maddie. And Chris. And Athena. And it was probably just easier to say their family. He’d remember all the time he’d spent with his family . “My wife seems to think I’ll lose a finger if I do.” Hen continued, desperate for a verbal reply, if only to hear Buck’s voice again after so long.
Buck nods, and though it’s not what she’d wanted, it gives her some relief. She takes both his hands in hers and rubs circles on them, and Buck moves closer to her instead of backwards. She hears his stomach rumble.
“Are you still hungry?” She asks when it’s evident he won’t ask for anything himself. A sprinkle of fear entered his expression when he nodded, but left just as quickly when all she did was pull out the orange and start to peel it. Wanting to avoid whatever issues Buck has with eating food, she hands slices of the orange to him one at a time. She kept a steady pace, trying not to shift away and make Buck think she was leaving.
With each new slice offered, Buck moved closer and closer. He eventually ended up off the dirty mattress that would no-doubt go into an evidence locker somewhere and slipped into Hen’s lap. He wasn’t shaking anymore, and was practically boneless against Hen when Chim returned to her side.
“Is he asleep?” Chim asked in a whisper.
“I think so,” Hen responded in an even voice. Buck didn’t so much as twitch, so she assumed he was asleep. Good , she thinks. He needs it .
“He looked so fucking scared of us, Hen.” Chim nearly whimpered.
“I know, Chim.” Selfishly, Hen lifted a hand and placed it on Buck’s scalp, scratching gently at the oily hair follicles. To her utter disbelief - and rejoice - Buck hummed and cuddled closer to her. She looked up at Chim with teary eyes, not wanting to let on that she knew Buck was still awake. “I know. He didn’t recognize our faces, but he noticed I wasn’t wearing my ring under my gloves.” That made Chim’s jaw drop, and Hen chuckled silently. Almost as quickly, she sobered up. “What’re we going to tell Bobby?”
“I don’t know,” Chim began, petting Buck’s overgrown hair out of his face as Buck’s entire body went lax with sleep. “But I do know that we’re all going to be okay, because we have our Buck back.”