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Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Eddie had sat in the waiting room, head in his hands, and tried to hold his breath for that long. He had lasted nearly two and a half minutes before his lungs felt like they were caving in and he relented and gasped for air.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Eddie was underground for almost an hour. The crane had been struck by lightning, Chim had told him later. A cruel twist of irony from God. Eddie's line was struck, and he was buried alive. Buck was struck, and his heart stopped in the air.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Eddie had felt the shock go through his hands, his arms, his chest. He jolted back, falling, his back hitting the mud as he stared up at the rain.
Behind him, Chimney had gasped.
He scaled the ladder with a speed that would put the Academy's best trainee to shame. He wasn't thinking clearly, wasn't thinking at all. His only thought was getting to Buck, bringing Buck to him, saving him.
He pulled at his line with his bare hands, as if he was strong enough to drag him up, to meet him mid-air, to force his heart to restart.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Buck's ribs cracked underneath Eddie's hands.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
He had died. He was dead.
"It would have been better if it were me who had been shot."
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
He broke every speed limit on the way to the hospital, clutching the wheel so tightly he had to peel his fingers off the wheel when they arrived.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Eddie vaguely remembered yelling at an E.R. attendant, fighting against Bobby as they wheeled Buck, whose heart still wasn't beating, away from him.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
Chris spoke to him, held his hand. Eddie couldn't even look at him.
He sat in his backyard while Chris slept. His whole body trembled, and the tears fell relentlessly, hot and angry and desperate.
Three minutes and seventeen seconds.
But he had woken up. He had lived - he was alive. And God. What a beautiful, glorious thing it was.
Buck, alive. Buck, smiling up at him and Chris. Buck, laughing at Eddie's terrible jokes and then wincing.
Buck returned. He was changed, but he was alive. And, honestly? Eddie wouldn't have cared if he now had the personality of a garden gnome, because he was alive and breathing and sitting next to Eddie.
"You don't need to be anything for anybody."
Was it selfish to admit he wasn't just talking about Buck when he said it?
But he had taken him home, fussing over him while Buck shooed him off, insisting he was fine, that he could manage living alone just fine.
"I've done it for twelve years. I think I'll be fine, Eds."
Eddie vehemently refused, insisting he wanted to be there for a little while "just in case."
That's how Eddie ended up sleeping on his own couch. He didn't mind, although the thought of Buck lying in his bed often kept him awake.
Even after Buck improved, Eddie kept making excuses to stop him from moving out. He still walked with a limp from the fire truck bombing, and it had become more pronounced after the lightning strike. Chris loved having him around. He still struggled with balance. The nightmares still woke them both up.
A month after Buck was discharged and they were still doing this. Buck would mention moving back into his apartment. Eddie would make up a flimsy excuse. Buck would raise an eyebrow but drop it for a few days.
Sometimes, Eddie would walk into the house after a shift and catch Buck staring at the wall, a haunted look in his eyes. He would blink and smile at Eddie, asking him about work, seemingly normal, but when he got quiet that look would creep back over his face, and Eddie couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.
"It's like everyone expects me to be the same old Buck. But I'm not."
"You don't have to be anything for anybody."
He hadn't spoken to him when he was in his coma. Not because he didn't want to. Not even because he couldn't bring himself to. He just didn't have the words.
He had stood there and listened as his son, as confident in his Buck as ever, spoke to him, absolutely convinced Buck was hearing every word.
"You have to come back, Buck."
Eddie had done his best to hold it together, but he still found himself harshly wiping tears away as Chris whispered to Buck.
Eddie's eyelid twitched, and he opened his eyes, sighing to himself as he returned to the present; laying on his back on the couch. He hated nights like this, where he got so caught up in memories that it felt like he was still there, praying desperately, begging for Buck to live.
And, sure, the couch was uncomfortable as hell (how Buck managed to sleep on it was beyond him), but the last thing Eddie wanted to do was kick Buck out of the bed.
A floorboard creaked behind him, and Eddie flinched, shooting upright so quickly he got dizzy.
Buck stood there, in boxers and an oversized dark green shirt.
Eddie chalked up his heart palpitations to the surprise and squinted, trying to make out Bucks' face in the dark living room. "You scared the hell out of me," he muttered, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. Chris was a monster if woken any earlier than necessary.
Buck offered him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep. Thought I would come grab some water or something."
Eddie stood, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Mind if I join?"
Buck shook his head. "It's your house."
Eddie frowned, but followed Buck into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it, leaning against the counter while Eddie sat down at the kitchen table, suddenly feeling exhausted.
"Couldn't sleep either?"
Eddie glanced up and shook his head. "Nah. I've got a lot on my mind. What about you?"
Buck shrugged. "Trying to figure out how I'm gonna fit all of my stuff in my Jeep when I move out."
Eddie felt a flash of anger. "Would you drop that moving shit? I thought I told you you don't need to worry about it."
Buck looked taken aback. "Yeah, I know, but I can't just stay here forever, Eddie."
"Why not?"
He wasn't entirely sure why he said it, but he knew he meant it. Why not? Why couldn't Buck stay here forever? With him and Chris, where he knew he was safe?
Buck slowly set down his water. "Eddie, you don't want me hanging around in your house for much longer. You'll get tired of me eventually."
Eddie scoffed. "If I haven't kicked you out yet, I doubt I ever will."
Buck's expression hardened. "I'm serious, Eddie. I don't need you taking care of me anymore."
It felt like a slap across the face. In fact, Eddie wished Buck had slapped him instead. It probably would have hurt less.
"Wait, Eddie, I didn't mean it like that," Buck said hastily, trying to backtrack.
But Eddie was done. He was tired of doing this, skating around the topic, avoiding the awkward conversations.
"Why are you so insistent on leaving, Buck?" he asked quietly. "Is living here that horrible for you?"
Buck shook his head. "No. No, living here is amazing, and I love being around Chris."
"So I'm the problem?"
The question hung in the air, more oxygen leaving the room the longer it went unanswered. Eddie watched as Buck opened his mouth before closing it, his fingers fidgeting with his shirt hem.
"Maybe you are, Eddie."
He said it softly, avoiding Eddie's gaze.
Eddie sucked in a breath, feeling like the walls were pressing in on him. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor loudly enough to make Buck jump.
"I'm always the problem, aren't I, Buck?"
Eddie barely recognized his own voice. It was low and gravely, level yet hiding decades of rage. He was the problem. Of course he was. All his pressing and weird excuses had led Buck to a conclusion Eddie had been desperately trying to keep him away from.
"I'm always the fucking problem. A bad son, a subpar father, a shit husband, a terrible partner. Hell, the only thing I was good at was war, and I couldn't even keep anyone I saved alive. Add that to the list. A God-awful soldier."
Buck looked concerned, reaching a hand out as if to comfort Eddie. But Eddie took a step back, widening the distance between them.
He kept talking, everything he had failed to find while a machine breathed for Buck stumbling out of his mouth in an incohesive blur of words. Maybe it was the lateness. Maybe it was the stress. Either way, the truth came out. All of it.
"You died, Buck! You were dead! Your heart was not beating for three minutes. Do you realize that? Do you not understand how close we got to losing you for good?"
Buck looked scared now. Any other time, Eddie would have stopped. He hated hurting Buck like this, but something kept pushing the words out, shooting them at Buck like bullets.
"I wasn't fast enough. If I had gotten up that ladder faster, if I had done CPR better, you wouldn't have died, Buck. But I wasn't fast enough."
He was gasping for breath now. "And I just - Buck. If you leave, if you move, and something happens again, it'll be my fault. Because I wouldn't be there. Again."
Eddie's mouth finally closed, which would have been a relief if Buck didn't have that look on his face. Eddie didn't know what it meant, which scared the hell out of him since he had pretty much memorized all of Bucks' facial expressions.
Slowly, Buck moved to sit in the chair across from Eddie, gesturing for him to sit back down.
Eddie obliged, trying to get his breathing under control, praying that Chris hadn't been woken up.
The silence was heavy. Buck looked at Eddie, Eddie looked at Buck. Neither of them spoke.
Finally, Buck broke the thick silence with a small inhale. "Eddie. None of that was your fault. I need you to know that."
Eddie dropped his gaze to the table, to Bucks hands resting there, so close to his own. "Me getting shot wasn’t your fault, either, but you made it your problem."
Buck sighed. "Why are we doing this? Blaming ourselves for freak accidents?"
The question hit Eddie like a train, and he panicked. Buck was close, so close to the truth, and Eddie had to get him away from it before he figured it all out.
"You walk with a limp, did you know that?"
And of course the first thing he thought of was Buck. Of course all he did was talk about Buck.
"Huh?"
Eddie decided to double down. "You walk with a limp. Ever since the firetruck bombing, once you started walking again. It's not noticeable unless you're, like, exhausted or you slept on it weird."
Buck blinked. "How did you know that when I don't even notice it half the time?"
And, oh, oh no, oh no no no no no.
All he could do was stare at Buck, stare into his eyes as the kitchen closed in on him.
"Eddie? Are you okay?"
Buck knew. He knew, he had to know. How could he not know? It was so obvious, the most obvious thing in the world. Eddie had tried to stomp it out, lock it up, and bury it, but it had grown and stretched and extended into his every thought. It had settled in his body, nesting in his bones, making a home in his chest where it stirred and hummed contentedly.
Eddie had known for far too long that the way he felt about Buck was different from anything else, but he played dumb and lied to himself and everyone else until he couldn't anymore.
Because for those three minutes and seventeen seconds, something in Eddie had died. And when Buck began to breathe on his own again, it awoke with a name.
And staring into Bucks' eyes, filled with concern, Eddie didn't have it in him to lie anymore.
And maybe Eddie really was the problem, because the next words that came out of his mouth were sure to only create more.
"Do you remember when I asked you if it was all worth it? If all of this-" he made a sweeping gesture with his hand while Buck looked on, concerned, "is really worth it?"
Buck nodded. "Please don't tell me you're quitting or thinking about..."
He trailed off, the unspoken words lingering. Eddie shook his head quickly, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest.
"No, no, nothing like that. I just...okay. Okay. I know you know, but I need you to know. Because it's not fair to you anymore. I don't think it ever has been."
He was rambling, the terror of what he was about to do catching up with him.
Buck reached out and gently rested his hand on top of Eddie's, bridging the gap between them.
"Talk to me, Eddie. Seriously, you're freaking me out."
Buck was so gentle, so quiet, and Eddie felt his breathing relax a bit. Buck might freak out. He might be disgusted, even. But he was still Buck, and Buck would never be as cruel to Eddie as Eddie was to himself.
So he took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"I don't want you to move out, Buck."
Buck opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie continued before Buck could speak and he lost his nerve.
"I don't want you to move out, because it's not worth it to me if you're not here. None of this is worth it. Not unless you're with me."
Another deep breath. He dropped his gaze to their hands, not wanting to see whatever look was on Buck's face now.
The kitchen was silent, suffocating Eddie while the walls got closer and closer. Buck's hand was dead weight on top of his own, and he was pretty sure the AC had stopped working since the house felt about twenty degrees warmer than it should.
He yanked his hand away from Bucks, quickly standing and turning away from him.
"Eddie, wait."
Eddie felt a hand circle his wrist, and suddenly he was face-to-face with Buck, staring into his eyes.
Eddie pulled his arm away. "Let go of me, Buck."
Buck obliged, raising his hands as if he were surrendering. "Can we talk? Like, actually talk? Please?"
Eddie laughed dryly, a humourless sound. "About what? How I'm a problem? How embarrassingly desperate I am to keep you around? No thanks."
Bucks' face went red, a blush noticeable even in the dim lighting of the moon streaming in through the window. "I didn't call you a problem, Eddie. I don't think there's anything wrong with you, so I'd appreciate it if you stopped acting like I called you a failure or something."
Eddie glared at him, crossing his arms. "Why do you want to get away from me so bad, Buck? Why exactly am I the reason you just have to move out?"
He knew he should stop pushing it, but as he watched Buck struggle to come up with an answer he felt a small twinge of satisfaction. He would get an answer if it killed him.
"Just drop it, Eddie," Buck said, and Eddie could hear the frustration in his voice. Finally, he wasn't the only one angry. Finally, he could fight.
"No. Tell me exactly what's wrong with me."
Buck glared down at him as Eddie took a step forward, pushing a finger into his chest. "Tell me exactly why you can't stand to be around me anymore. And don't give me any of that 'second chance' bullshit. Tell me what is so terrible about me that you won't even talk to me about it."
Buck's eyes were wild, and Eddie was reminded of the lion at the zoo pacing his cage, staring out at the people, longing to be as free as they were. "Maybe I just don't want to relive the worst accident of my life, Eddie. Did that ever occur to you?"
Eddie threw his hands in the air. "Maybe if you actually fucking talked about it, it wouldn't be the worst accident of your life! Maybe if you just talked to me about it, I could help you! But you keep all your shit locked up, and then you get hurt. You think I don't know you? That I don't know how you work? It's killing you, Buck, and you won't talk about it!"
He let his hands fall, hitting his legs with a slap. "All you care about is leaving me behind."
Buck shook his head. "Don't- don't do that. Don't make whatever weird shit you're feeling my fault. You clearly have stuff you wanna say to me, so just fucking say it, Eddie. Don't make it about me."
"IT'S ABOUT YOU!"
Eddie had officially crossed the line. He had started yelling, yelling at Buck, of all people, while his son slept just a few doors down. He tried to lower his voice, but whatever damage had been done was done.
Buck took a step back, looking startled, and all Eddie could do was stare at him while the truth poured out of his mouth. He stalked towards Buck, only stopping when they were so close their oxygen mixed.
"It's always about you. Every goddamn thing I say and do and think is about you, Evan. But you won't fucking talk to me anymore. You won't talk to anyone anymore, least of all me. And on top of that, you can't even stand to live in the same house as me anymore, all while the only thing I cant think about is how your heart stopped beating for three minutes and seventeen fucking seconds."
He stopped, breathing heavily while Buck stared down at him, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.
Because Eddie had confessed. The truth, the weight that had been hanging from his chest for six years and had recently been seen for what it was had finally been released, and it hurt a lot more than Eddie had expected.
"Dad? Buck? What's going on?"
The two men turned, freed from their fog to see Christopher, standing in the hall, his hair messy and glasses askew. "Were you fighting?"
Buck inhaled sharply. "Nah, kid, just started talking a little too loud. Sorry. Let's go back to bed, yeah?"
Eddie watched Buck walk Chris down the hall, a sharp pain in his chest.
As soon as they entered Chris's room, he pulled his shoes on and grabbed his keys, slipping out the door as quietly as possible.
He hadn't meant to run. But it was in his nature. Running from responsibility, running from the difficult conversations. It's what he did best.
He spent the rest of the night at the station, ignoring Bucks' frantic texts. He finally drifted off at around four am, replaying the argument in his head like a broken record.
"Get up, Diaz. Did you spend the night here?"
Eddie opened his eyes, squinting at the figures standing above him.
He groaned. "What time is it?"
Hen checked her watch. "Almost eight."
Chim frowned. "Why are you here? You're usually the last person to show up."
Eddie kicked the sheets away, swinging his legs out of bed and sitting up. "Maybe I just wanted to get a jump on the day."
Hen raised an eyebrow. "By sleeping?"
Chim nodded in agreement. "Yeah, what's going on, man? You and Buck get in a lovers' quarrel?" He asked with a smile, wagging his eyebrows.
Eddie stood up, pushing past him with a mumbled "Whatever, man."
"Hey! I was just joking!" Chimeny called after him, but Eddie was already in the locker room grabbing his work clothes.
The shift was pretty quiet, their most intense call being that of a dude who got his arm stuck in his toilet tank, which got quite a few laughs out of everyone. Everyone except Eddie, who had been moving like a zombie all day.
As soon as they got back, he dropped his turnout coat on the floor and made a beeline for the bunks, but found his path blocked by Hen and Bobby.
"Eddie, are you feeling alright?" Hen started, concern dripping from every word. Eddie just nodded. "Fine," he grunted, avoiding her eyes. "Just tired."
Bobby cleared his throat. "Eddie. Be honest."
Eddie squinted up at Bobby, his eyes foggy, feeling like his brain was moving in slow motion. "I am. I'm tired, and you two are in my way. So, if you'll excuse me..."
Hen opened her mouth, but was cut off by the shrill screeching of the alarm. Eddie groaned loudly, but followed the rest of his team, grabbing his coat off the floor as he climbed into the engine, Ravi sliding in across from him.
"Car accident off of Main and Greenway."
"Copy that. 118 en. Route," Bobby called into the radio as Chim pulled out of the station.
It took just a few minutes, but the sirens cut through the fog in Eddie's brain, making his head pound and his stomach churn. He shook his head roughly, reminding himself he had a job to do. Ravi cast him a worried look, but didn't say anything.
As soon as Eddie jumped out of the engine, he knew he was going to need a drink when he got home. If he went home.
The car was completely upside down in the middle of the street, traffic stopped around it while several police officers held the crowd back. Eddie spotted Athena among them, calling out orders and giving a small nod to Eddie when she caught his eye.
Gas was leaking from the car, and the sharp smell made Eddie's headache all the more intense. He blinked sharply, turning to look at Bobby as he addressed the team.
"Alright listen up! Chim, Buck, grab the jaws. Hen and Eddie, get a gurney over there and do everything you can to keep the victim alive until we get them to a hospital. Be careful of anything that could ignite that gas."
Ravi sighed as he moved past Eddie. "It's been a month and he's still calling me Buck?" he grumbled to Chimney, who clapped his shoulder.
Eddie, whose stomach had lurched at Bucks' name, finally snapped out of his fog as Hen shoved him in the shoulder, probably a little harder than necessary.
"Eddie! What the hell are you doing? Help me out over here!"
Eddie stumbled over his feet as he chased after Hen, falling to his knees next to the driver's side door.
He involuntary sucked in a breath. This really wasn't good.
The man behind the wheel was bleeding profusely from a gash in his head, blood running down his face and into his lap, which was pinned beneath the steering wheel column.
The man gave Eddie a small smile while Hen got his vitals. "That bad, huh?" he said weakly.
Eddie but his cheek. "Nah, man. Just...Not amazing. But nothing a trip to the E.R. can't fix."
The man chuckled, and Eddie saw blood trickle out of his mouth. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's okay. I've already accepted it."
Eddie's headache spiked, but he forced a (hopefully) reassuring smile onto his face. "Hey, don't talk like that. Listen, I'm Eddie. That's my friend Hen, and she's pretty much the best paramedic to ever live. We're gonna do everything we can. What's your name?"
The man coughed, and more blood flew from between his lips. "Randy," he coughed out.
Eddie nodded, glancing over at Hen who had a grim expression on her face.
Eddie knew that look, but he still looked back at Randy with a smile. "I had a buddy in the army named Randy. Amazing guy. Real funny, always gave good advice."
Randy smiled. "I almost joined the army, actually. Still kind of regret not doing it. I have a lot of regrets," he finished quietly, staring just over Eddie's shoulder.
Eddie nodded. "Hey, I feel ya. Stay with me, though, Randy, okay?"
But his eyes remained unfocused. "I was on my way to tell Kacy. I was going to apologize, tell her I wanted to make it right. Because I knew she would be my biggest regret if I didn't try."
Eddie felt a pang in his chest. "Hey. You can tell her once we get you out of here, okay?"
He turned around to speak into his radio. "Ravi, Chim, where are the Jaws?"
Randy was speaking quieter now, struggling to draw in breaths. "I made so many mistakes. My whole life, Eddie. So many regrets. This was the one time I was actually going to make it right. Because she's worth it. But now..."
He coughed before taking in a raspy breath, and Eddie heard the way it rattled his chest.
Hen looked up at him and shook her head. Eddie felt an ice-cold chill run down his spine. He knew, but that didn't make it easier.
He turned back to Randy, who was staring wistfully into space, tears in his eyes. "Eddie, can you do me a favor?" he whispered, so faint Eddie hardly heard him over the noises of the crowds and crackling of police radios.
"Y-yeah. Of course, man. What's up?"
Randy reached out and gripped his arm with the strength only a dying man possessed. Eddie had felt it before, watching his brothers die, listening to them take their last breaths while they clutched his arm, his hand, his wrist. Eddie could still feel their stiff fingers while Randy's became colder and colder.
"Kacy. Tell her...tell her I love her. And I'm sorry. For everything. And...and in another life-" he coughed, but kept going, fingers digging into Eddie's arm so hard he was sure they would leave bruises.
"In another life, we got another chance. Tell her...tell her I don't regret it. She's the one thing I will never regret."
Randy's grip went slack, and his eyes slid from Eddie's face to the empty air over his shoulder.
Eddie reached out, placing his fingers on the man's throat. "Randy?" he whispered.
But Randy was gone.
Eddie sat back on his heels, closing his eyes as he tried to take deep breaths. He was hyperventilating, clawing at his turnout, pulling it off along with his helmet.
He spun around as someone gently rested their hand on his shoulder. "I got it," Hen said gently, but Eddie shook his head.
"Phone," he gasped out. "I need his phone. I have to call Kacy."
Hen frowned. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay? I don’t think you need to be making death calls right now."
Eddie shook his head. "Please," he breathed, and Hen sighed. "Fine," she said, gesturing behind her for Ravi and Chim to move in with the Jaws.
Eddie stood and watched from a distance as they cut Randy out of his car, his phone falling from his jacket pocket and landing on Eddie's discarded turnout. That's when he caught a glimpse of a flower bouquet he had previously missed in the backseat. It was squished and mangled now, petals scattered over the cars ceiling, but Eddie couldn't help but recognize just how beautiful they must have been.
His stomach twisted, and he barely made it to a bush before vomiting.
He stood there, doubled over, gasping for air, blinking his tears away furiously as Randy was loaded into a body bag behind him.
God, he was so stupid. God, were you there?
"You alright, Diaz?"
Eddie wiped his eyes, turning around to see Athena, holding out a phone. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, just...yeah."
Athena sighed, handing Eddie the phone. "I understand. I know you must struggle with scenes like this. Here's his phone. I had one of the I.T. guys unlock it. Call when you're ready."
She gave him a reassuring smile, walking away, leaving Eddie with a phone that weighed roughly forty-five thousand pounds in his hand.
He scrolled through the contacts list, hesitating for a moment before he called.
"Hello? Randy?"
Eddie nearly broke down right there. She sounded so young, so innocent. She had no idea what news she was about to receive.
He cleared his throat. "Um, Kacy? This is Eddie Diaz. I'm with the L.A.F.D. Randy was in an accident today."
"What? What kind of accident? Is he okay? Where is he?"
Eddie inhaled, steeling himself for what was coming. "I'm so sorry, Kacy, but he...he's gone. His car flipped, and...he didn't make it."
There was a heavy silence from the other end, and Eddie continued.
"He wanted me to tell you something. He was insistent on it, actually. He said...He wanted you to know that he was sorry, and he loved you. He said that he would never regret loving you. You were the one thing he didn't regret."
On the other end, Kacy choked out a sob. "No. No, please, no. Oh my God. No! NO!"
On a better day, Eddie would have comforted her. But all he could muster up was a weak condolence, before passing the phone to Bobby and walking away, his head pounding and his eyes heavy.
He was silent on the ride back, ignoring the way his team cast worried glances his way.
He knew what it was like, to live with regret. He lived with it every day of his life.
Not being able to save his brothers. Not being able to save Shannon. Not being a good enough son. A good enough father. A good enough Catholic. A good enough man.
The last conversation he had with Buck was a fight. What if he had never seen him again? Never spoke to him again?
Eddie's own wife had died, been struck by a car, bled out in the street just like Randy had, and all Eddie could think about was Buck. What was wrong with him? Why was the regret of fighting with Buck tearing him up inside? Why was he throwing up at scenes that should have made him think of how he lost Shannon, but instead only reminded him of how he had almost lost Buck?
And now he was fully sobbing in the engine. Gut-wrenching, full-body sobs that he hadn't felt since he got the news about the last of the chopper survivors dying.
He hid his face in his hands, but it was futile. His team could hear him. Surely they were judging, surely they were shaking their heads and sighing, exchanging exasperated looks.
But as soon as they pulled into the garage, Eddie felt arms around his shoulders and hands on his back, guiding him out of the engine and up the stairs, sitting him on the couch, sitting beside him quietly.
And Eddie continued to sob, feeling in that moment more loved and accepted than he ever had. They saw him. His scars, his cracks, his tears. They saw it, and they comforted him anyway.
God, are you there? It's me, Eddie. I think there's something wrong with me.
I think I'm broken. I think there's a sin that I can't get rid of. I need you to help me. I need you to fix me.
"It's okay, Eddie. Just let it all out."
Fix me, damn it. If you're real, fix me. If you're there, why aren't I good enough yet?
Maybe you're not real. Maybe it's all a lie. Maybe I'm just broken.
"It's okay, kid. We're here when you're ready."
Or maybe you are real. Maybe you're real, and this is just who I am.
Maybe that's enough.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," Eddie rasped, wiping his tears away harshly. "I don't know what to do."
Chim lightly bumped Eddie's knees with his own. "That's what we're here for. Just talk to us."
Isn't that all Eddie wanted? Was to talk, to confess?
He inhaled painfully. "I just want to be enough," he admitted, his voice wobbly, "and I don't think I am. I don't think I'll ever be."
Bobby let out a small chuckle, leaning forward to meet Eddie's eyes. "Kid, none of us thinks we're enough. Terrible husband, terrible father, terrible firefighter. Everyone sees the worst pieces of themselves if that's all you expect to see. But you are a good person, Eddie. You are a good man, whether you believe it or not."
Chimney nodded. "You're a hero, man," he said, knocking their knees together again. "And you’re an amazing dad."
Hen rubbed his back. "Whatever you're going through, you have us," she said softly. "You always will."
Ravi cleared his throat from the edge of the coffee table. "Yeah. We've got your back, dude."
Bobby reached forward and squeezed Eddie's shoulder. "Take the rest of the shift off. Go home, sleep, eat something. Rest, Eddie."
Eddie nodded, his throat tight. "Thank you. I...Thank you."
They got up, one by one, squeezing his shoulder or murmuring assurances in his ear.
Bobby was the last to get up. "Need anything?" he asked, giving Eddie that look that made him feel like Bobby was reading his mind.
Eddie shook his head and Bobby stood, giving him that reassuring smile. "Talk to him, Eddie. I promise that's all he wants."
Eddie looked up. "You know about our fight?" he asked, feeling panic setting in.
But all Bobby did was nod, his face free of disgust and judgment. "And I know Buck. And you. Just sit down and talk."
He patted Eddie on the back before walking away, leaving Eddie to stumble downstairs and towards his truck in a daze.
He didn't know how he got home, just that he ended up outside his house, parked there, staring at the front door for what felt like hours, but was probably only about thirty minutes.
Chris would still be at school for a few hours, and Buck's Jeep was still in the driveway.
Eddie took a few deep breaths. He felt disgusting. He still had blood and dirt all over him, but his headache had mostly subsided.
He unlocked the door, his hands trembling. He kicked his boots off as he shut the door behind him, dropping his keys on the side table.
Buck emerged from the kitchen, wearing a grey hoodie and basketball shorts, and when he met Eddie's eyes, something inside him froze. His heart wasn't pounding out of his chest anymore, and his head wasn't running a million miles an hour. His nervous system wasn't buzzing, and his breathing settled.
Oh, his heart murmured. There you are.
They stood in silence, just staring across the room at each other, until Buck broke the silence.
"Are you okay?"
Eddie shook his head, not breaking eye contact. "Not even close," he admitted.
Buck hesitantly took a step forward. "Is that your blood?"
Eddie shook his head again. "Randy's."
Buck nodded like this made sense. "Bobby let you off early?"
All Eddie could do was nod.
The two men stood in the living room, separated by the couch, staring. Just standing and looking, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Eddie was too tired to feel nervous, too drained to feel panic.
"I'm sorry for leaving like that," Eddie finally said. "It was immature."
Buck nodded, crossing his arms. "It was."
Eddie nodded. "Yeah. It was."
They stood there for a moment, still staring at each other from across the room.
Finally, Buck sighed. "I'm sorry, too. For making you feel like a problem. You're not, for the record."
"Then why say it, Buck?"
Eddie's voice was heavy, exhaustion dripping from every word.
Buck shook his head. "I don't know. I guess I thought, if you were mad at me, leaving would be easier. But then..."
He trailed off, Eddie's words from the night before (had it really only been the night before?) echoing back at them, taunting him.
"I just don't want you to be my regret anymore," Eddie breathed. "I don't want you to be my regret in the end."
Buck took the smallest step forward. "Eddie, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
Eddie took a breath. "I lost you, Buck. I lost you. And that whole time that damn machine was breathing for you, all I could think about was how broken I was, because I knew that if you didn't make it, I wouldn't either."
Buck's eyes widened, but Eddie kept going.
"I can't have you be my regret anymore, Evan. It's killing me."
"Eddie..."
Eddie shook his head, looking down at his mismatched socks. He was pretty sure one of them was Bucks.
"I'm not asking you to relive it. I'm not even asking you to talk about it. I just...I lost you, and then you came back, but you pulled away, and it felt like I lost you all over again. And I'm sorry for making you feel like my emotions were your responsibility. I mean, you died, and I somehow found a way to make it about myself."
Buck exhaled, a long, slow sound. "It's okay, Eddie. I get it. I mean, I guess I don't, but I'm not upset. "
He sighed, and Eddie heard him shifting his weight. "I guess I panicked? I mean...I died, Eddie. I died, and I changed, and when I came back you hadn't, and it freaked me out, because this was supposed to be my second chance. This was supposed to be how I found myself."
Eddie looked back up, and Buck finally uncrossed his arms. "My whole life, I've been the second choice, not someone people actually want around. You make me feel like I'm wanted, Eddie. But I don't wanna become a pest. I didn't want to be a burden on you. I don't want you to have to worry about me for the rest of your life."
Eddie cracked a smile. "It's too late for that. I already will. And, just so you know, you're not a burden. Not to me. Never to me."
Buck gave him a small, sad smile. "I guess I thought that distance would...fix me? Get rid of whatever this is?"
He gestured at the space between them, and there was so much in that space that Eddie nearly laughed at the sheer stupidity of it all.
"What are we doing?" he asked, laughing to himself. "Why can't we just talk like normal people?"
Buck's smile grew slightly. "Because we're not normal people?"
Eddie chuckled, moving his eyes from Bucks' face back to his feet. Yeah, that was definitely Bucks sock. Ironic.
He heard Buck take a deep breath. "Eddie, look, the truth is, you are my problem. You have been since the day we met."
Eddie snapped his head back up, caught off guard. All humor from the moment before was gone as he watched Buck nervously avoid his eyes.
"I love living here with you and Christopher. But it's killing me. It's absolutely killing me, because you're so close, but not close enough. It's like...I have you, but you're not mine. And I thought putting distance in between would help. I'm sorry I made you feel like you're not good enough, Eddie. Because you are. At least for me."
Eddie couldn't breathe.
He laughed dryly. "I guess I'll have to, now."
Eddie's mouth had never been drier, his knees never this weak. "Have to what?" he choked out.
Buck finally looked back up. "Leave."
"Why?"
Buck frowned. "Because I just confessed to... something."
Eddie's breathing was ragged. "Confessed to what, exactly?" he asked carefully.
Buck looked frozen. "C'mon, Eddie. You know," he said, his voice raw.
Eddie shook his head. "I don't know."
Buck laughed, incredulous. "Eddie."
"Buck."
The couch was the only thing between them, but it felt like an island as Eddie held Bucks' gaze from across the room.
"We've both said it, Eddie," Buck said, so softly Eddie wouldn't have caught it if he wasn't already clinging to the sound of every breath Buck took. "So why can't we just..."
He trailed off, swinging his arm out before letting it fall back against his leg.
Eddie laughed. He couldn't help it. In that moment, everything was so ridiculous. They had argued about Buck moving out. A man was dead. Eddie was wearing Bucks sock.
Eddie doubled over, laughing so hard he began to gag, sucking in breaths in between sobs he hadn't felt start.
"Woah, Eddie, come here. Sit down. What's wrong?" Buck said, his arm sliding around Eddie's waist as he moved him to the couch. The concern in his voice nearly made Eddie say it, right then and there, but he allowed Buck to sit across from him on the coffee table.
"I - Dios mío, Buck, he...someone died today, and I'm... I'm wearing your fucking sock."
Buck looked like he was watching a train wreck. "Yeah, you are. Are you feeling alright, Eddie?" he asked in the same tone someone would use to calm an overexcited child.
Eddie shook his head. "Not at all. I'm so fucking exhausted, and - and - and I'm so in love with you, Evan, it hurts."
There it was. It had forced its way out, between hysterical laughter and tears. The truth. The poison that had clawed open Eddie's heart all those years ago, the brokenness that caused him so much pain and prayer and longing.
Eddie was done for, damned, beyond lost. And any second now, Buck would come to his senses and walk out, finally realizing that Eddie wasn't worth the drama, the pain, the heartache.
But Buck hadn't moved, not a single inch, and a new fear began to take over: maybe God himself had paused time, allowing Eddie a moment to repent, a moment to pray, a moment to look to heaven and denounce his sin and let Buck walk away.
Eddie didn't move, either.
Maybe God was okay with it. Maybe he wasn't. Eddie was overwhelmed with the feeling of indifference - what was it to him if God approved? Who cared if he was damned for eternity? This was his own personal heaven and hell, all at once; seeing a man who did his best to take up as little space as possible, loving someone who felt like they didn't deserve to exist.
Buck finally breathed, a sharp sound in the quiet, and Eddie nearly flinched as he began to speak, his voice scratchy.
"You can't, Eddie. I'm not good enough for you. I can't- you don't want to be burdened by me for the rest of your life. You don't want this for yourself."
Buck was begging, tears in his eyes, his hands clenching his shorts like a lifeline.
"That's all I want, Buck. I want you."
Those words, once feeling like an admission of guilt, now felt freeing. Buck stared at him, eyes wet and body trembling. "Why?"
In truth, Eddie didn't know. Or at least, he was too tired to articulate it all. But he did know he wouldn't last without him, either.
"Chris really likes you."
Buck stared at him, before laughing, the sound warming Eddie's chest. "That's it? Nothing else?"
Eddie shook his head, smiling as Buck shakily wiped his tears. "Well, yeah, but we would be here all night if I started listing them all. I'd like to take a nap before Chris gets home."
Buck laughed again, quieter this time. "And a shower. You smell awful."
Eddie sighed. "I know. It's been a really long forty-eight hours."
He went to stand, but Buck caught his wrist, just like he had the night before.
Eddie turned, looking down at Buck, who just stared up at him, mouth slightly open.
Buck's grip was loose, but Eddie could feel the desperation in the way his thumb pressed against his forearm.
"Eddie."
Maybe it was the way Buck said his name. Maybe it was the way his fingers held him in place. Maybe it was Eddie all but cursing God earlier that day.
Whatever it was, it forced him forward, taking a small step towards Buck, setting him back down on the couch, their knees pressed against each other's.
"Buck?"
Maybe Eddie was crazy. Maybe he couldn't repent. But with the way Buck was looking at him now, he was more than okay with that.
"Eddie," Buck breathed.
And Eddie understood. For all he didn't know about Buck, this he understood more clearly than anything.
He leaned forward, pressing his shaky hand against Bucks' cheek. Buck melted into it instantly, still looking at him with those eyes.
Eddie brought his other hand up, brushing a small strand of hair from Buck's forehead, trembling with the terror of what he could no longer hold himself back from.
Buck closed his eyes.
As soon as their lips touched, Eddie knew he would be damned to hell. He was shaking so badly that there could've been an earthquake and he wouldn't know it. He was a sinner. There wasn't anyway to come back from this.
But Eddie didn't cry. He didn't push Buck away, didn't pray, didn't beg for forgiveness. Instead, he allowed Buck to push him backwards onto the couch as his hands brushed the small of his back.
Buck pulled back. "Your fingers are cold," he hissed, a small smile on his face as he stared down at Eddie.
Eddie blinked. He wasn't exactly sure how Buck had ended up in his lap, but far be it from him to complain. There were certainly worse places for him to be.
"Sorry," he muttered, and Buck shook his head. "No, hey, it's fine."
Eddie nodded, and Buck frowned. Eddie felt his heart plummet. He was ruining this. He was so close, and he was ruining everything.
Buck ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie had to stop himself from making an ungodly noise.
"Hey, Eddie. Eds. Look at me."
Eddie looked up at Buck, who gave him that same crooked grin that always made Eddie's heart settle.
"Y'know, when I first met you, I was pissed off because my first thought was, damn, he's hot. Hotter than me. But, as it turns out, that wasn't jealousy."
Eddie couldn't help but chuckle, making Bucks smile wider. "I've been so in love with you for so long, Eddie. If soulmates are real, you're mine. In any other life, it would be you. Always."
Eddie stared up at him, his smile replaced by quiet astonishment.
What could he say? What was there to say that hadn't already been said?
It's always about you. I don't want you to move. I'm wearing your sock. I love you.
There was still so much left to be said. But Eddie was exhausted, and Buck was still here.
So he pulled Buck down to meet his open mouth, smiling all the while, thanking God that Buck was his.
He didn't want to repent. Not for this; and if this sent him to hell, he would go smiling, because he had already tasted heaven, and it tasted like Evan Buckley.
Because what was being loved by Buck if not as close to heaven as he would ever get?