Work Text:
25th December 2026
Buck was dead.
He was really gone? It seemed unfathomable that Evan Buckley was dead. Because nobody believed that he even knew how to do that. Buck never stopped, he was constantly moving, he was always saying something, whether it be stupid, goofy or educated for once. But, he’d stopped. Buck was dead.
Buck was dead and there was nothing anybody could do to change that.
It had been raining when he was dying. It had been raining since the day Buck’s family got to the damn hospital, and the downpour hadn’t halted. Not once did the rain stop. And then he’d died, and then the rain ceased. The rain stopped, he died, and the sunrise begun in a clear sky. The sun rose, and everyone’s embodiment of the sun had died. They’d watched the death of the sun, only for it to rise once more.
But he didn’t. He stayed down. That peaceful look on his face stayed, like he’d done everything he was supposed to do in this damn life, like he had nothing else to hang on to. He’d died with his eyes open, and everyone had to watch in horror as the light left them. Everyone had to watch in horror as his oldest brother sobbed while closing Buck’s eyes for him. Everyone sobbed when Mikey told Buck to sleep well, that he’d done so well, that he could rest now.
Everyone was devastated. Rightfully so.
Eddie was just angry. Well, he wasn’t just angry, but everything that wasn’t anger fell to the wayside. Buck had left him, he’d left him time and time again, and Eddie always believed he’d come back, no, he knew the man would come back. But this time he hadn’t. This time he’d left and Eddie couldn’t stop him from doing so, he wanted to. But he himself hadn’t said anything to make him hold on, to make him stay. To make Evan Buckley fight for one last time.
Buck left, and Eddie was angry. Nobody blamed him for being angry, nobody told him to knock it off when he screamed at Buck’s corpse. Buck, who usually had something to say back, who took Eddie’s shit but made sure Eddie had something to take too, had stayed silent on the bed. Because he was dead.
It was Christmas. Buck loved Christmas, and Eddie’s house was not as bright as it should be. Because Buck wasn’t there. Buck hadn’t been there that year to throw fairy lights at the walls and laugh when Eddie groaned about how bright it was or how bad their electric bill was going to be that year. Buck hadn’t been there for that for a solid six years by now, but he was still somewhere out there. Now, he wasn’t anywhere other than a morgue. He wasn’t spouting shit about twinkling lights or a tacky Christmas tree, no, he had nothing to say. He was silent because he was dead.
Eddie sat on the couch numbly, Christopher at his side. His son was almost as silent as he was, the only noise he made really was a soft sniffle now and again. He kept checking his phone, as if Buck was about to call him. But the call never came, there was no text message. So Chris sat quietly beside his dad. He wanted to reach out to Eddie, but he couldn’t move. And it seemed that his father was having the same trouble. Moving, that is.
The door opened at some point, after possible hours of just sitting and staring forward like the coffee table was the most interesting thing in the world. Neither moved, neither looked to see who came in. They didn’t care.
“We brought dinner.” Kennicky’s voice came from the kitchen, it was stricken, his throat tight as he spoke.
“If you want any.” Mikey commented, ushering his wife and children into the kitchen. Eddie felt more energy then, they were his nieces and nephew, they were kids. Chris seemed to be the same. He pushed himself up from the couch, leaving an ident there, just like Buck used to do. The indent was almost identical, Chris was almost identical.
Eddie felt pained.
He always knew Chris looked like Buck, he always had. Even as a baby, he looked like his dad. It had been a running joke that Chris was actually Buck’s biological son, not Eddie’s. That joke seemed to die with Buck, because the similarities were too painful. Sometimes, Eddie hated to admit it, but sometimes, looking at Chris hurt, because he was a copy and paste of Evan Buckley. His mannerisms were the same, the jokes he made were almost the same, his smile was identical, his unruly curls were like a mirror image, even his voice was somewhat similar.
Eddie hated it.
He didn’t hate Chris, but he had this unfair resentment. Chris was a lot like Buck, and right now, he was too much like Buck.
“How are you, little man?” Kennicky asked, getting an arm full of Chris, who was leaning against him entirely. Kennicky took his weight with no issues, holding onto the kid. He had a hand in the boy’s hair, holding his head to his broad chest, and the other was running circles along Chris’ back. Eddie watched fondly, yet completely pained, because he hadn’t been able to comfort Chris like that, not yet. He’d hugged his son, he’d comforted him, but Chris pushed him away for reasons that Eddie wasn’t sure of just yet.
“Fine.” He mumbled and Kennicky’s face fell, but he pressed a kiss to Chris’ curls nonetheless. A look of nostalgia, guilt and raw grief was on his face. It seemed that Eddie wasn’t the only one to recognise the similarities between Chris and Buck.
“Maddie made dinner, she told us to send it over.” Mikey said, pulling out the boxes of food: “She wanted to come but…you know.”
Eddie nodded mutely, moving around Kiera to get a beer from the fridge. He needed something to take the edge off a little bit, just for now.
He swore he’d find a better solution later.
“Uncle Eddie?” Aurora asked, the youngest daughter of Mikey’s.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asked tenderly, looking down at her. She was only six, soon to be seven. Buck adored her, and she adored him. Eddie couldn’t believe that she’d have to grow up without her uncle Evan, who’d she’d known for such a short time but had made such an impression on her. Her siblings had their uncle around for longer. Robbie was Chris’ age, and Harriet was just a little younger. They’d had Evan for longer, but Aurora, or Rory as Evan lovingly called her, had a deep love for her uncle.
“Are you okay?” She asked, her eyes wide. Eddie wanted to cry then and there; he couldn’t.
“I think we’re all a little sad right now,” Eddie comforted as best as he could, ignoring the crack in his voice: “But, we’ll be okay.”
“Is it because uncle Evan is gone? Daddy said he’d gone to run around with Brian.” She said with childlike wonder. Eddie snorted a little at that.
“He has.” Eddie replied softly.
“I bet Brian wants to send him back right about now.” Kennicky snorted wetly. He was taking his little brother’s death hard. Harder than most.
He’d been there when Buck clawed his way out of captivity. He’d been there after Buck set off an explosion in the building, his final heroic act, as his team Kennedy liked to put it. He’d been the one to catch Evan in his arms, the SEAL begging to call his son. Because history couldn’t repeat, Buck couldn’t die without saying goodbye properly, not over the phone. Kennicky had been the one to cry out for an airlift, he’d been the one keeping Buck’s heart going in the chopper, he’d been the one to lose Evan’s heartbeat and cry out in anguish when his chest stopped rising and falling. Kennicky had been the one to start his heart again, breaking more ribs and hurting Buck just that little bit more. Kennicky had been the one to tell Evan about what Chris was wearing, what he’d done with his hair, what shoes he had on, his glasses, because Evan couldn’t fucking see but just wanted his son to believe he was okay. Kennicky was the one to hold his hand in his final moments, Kennicky had been the one to tell Buck that he could let go, that he was so proud, that it was okay.
He blamed himself for all of it. And nobody really knew what to say to him about it all. Some wanted to blame him, some wanted to comfort him. But nobody knew what to say, nobody knew how to go about it.
Christmas was painful, it was quiet despite everyone in the room. Eddie never wanted to celebrate again. Chris hated it.
It was an awful day.
~
30th December 2026
It was the day of the funeral. It was sunny, quite warm in LA despite it being winter. The sun was blaring down.
Kennicky was supposed to be dressing Buck with Maddie and Effie’s help. Mikey was the one getting everyone into uniforms and holding down the fort. But it didn’t take long for one of them to crack, and that was Kennicky.
He’d run out of the room like a bat out of hell, holding a silver star in his hand. He found Eddie.
“I can’t do it.” Kennicky cried out, shaking the medal in Eddie’s face: “I can’t fucking do it!”
Eddie watched the man break in front of him, he watched the medal wave around. Kennicky stood in his navy blues physically shaking, tears streaming down his face and his eyes were wide with terror. Eddie was in his uniform too, he stood looking at the medal because he didn’t want to do it either. He couldn’t do it, because that medal meant everything yet nothing at all to Buck. Buck had said he’d be the last person to ever pin it to his uniform, and that wasn’t the case.
“Eddie, please do it. I can’t, that’s my little brother I can’t.” He said while pushing the medal into Eddie’s hand.
“That’s my husband!” He shouted back, “That’s my fucking husband, Link.”
“I know that,” Kennicky’s voice cracked: “He loved you more than anything, and if I can’t do it, you have to.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Eddie questioned, finally taking the medal. The metal was shining under the overhead lights. He remembered trembling fingers pinning it to a white uniform, he remembered crying, he remembered grief. The last time Buck put this medal on, he was mourning. And the last time somebody would ever put the medal on him, everyone close to him were mourning too.
“You have to do it.” Kennicky walked away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Eddie stood planted in his spot, the medal hanging between his fingers. Buck’s body was just down the hall.
He walked to his husband, he walked slowly, he walked hesitantly. Never in his life had he walked to Evan Buckley slowly, he loved that man, he always moved to Buck like he had no time to lose. They really didn’t, his death proved it.
He got to the door and Effie and Maddie were stood over Evan’s body. They were clinging to one another, and when the door opened, they looked over and saw Eddie. Their faces fell and they left without question.
Eddie shut the door behind them. It was just him and his husband now, the love of his life. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to see Buck, not like this. It didn’t feel right, seeing a man full of life with no life in him at all. It didn’t feel right, and it didn’t feel real. It felt almost sinful, it was sickening. But Eddie had something to do.
He walked to the open casket and there was Evan. He looked…peaceful. His uniform was crisp, he had that stupid hat on, the medals he’d collected over the last eighteen years in service were on his chest proudly, just where his heart was. His heart wasn’t beating anymore.
Eddie shook the thought away.
“You’re a real sick fuck, you know that don’t you?” Eddie said with a bitter laugh. He expected Buck to reply with something sappy, something along the lines of “I’m just lovesick for you, Eds.” But it never came. And it never would.
Eddie looked at him before hesitantly reaching into the casket and holding his cold hand, his freezing cold hand. The hand that always used to be so warm and lined with rings. He only had his wedding band on now, Eddie’s own collided with it, the soft noise fell on deaf ears.
“You’re killing me.” Eddie said with a wobbly voice: “You left and you’re killing me. But, I can’t help loving you even now, even when you’re tearing me apart.”
He refused to cry, he had to be strong. He let go of Buck’s cold hand. He raised the medal up, looking at it intently. Buck hated the damn thing, but he loved it too. It proved he survived, it proved that he’d made it out, that he was okay. But all of that came with a cost that Buck was never willing to pay.
“I hate you.” Eddie said, bringing the medal to the rest of Buck’s, “But you told me that it shows I care. And I do, I care the most, because you’re my husband and I don’t know how to live now you’re not here.”
He wanted a response, a reaction. For Buck to just pounce out of the casket with a loud shout of surprise and promise of coming home. But again, it didn’t happen. And it never would.
He pinned the medal down: “I think of you and I just…forget how to breathe. You’re hurting me. You’re hurting me and you’re dead. I told you to go to stop this from hurting and you’re still fucking hurting me, Evan.”
He stared at Buck’s unmoving face.
“You hurt.” Eddie cried finally, a tear dripping onto Evan’s face, as if he’d cried it himself: “You hurt me, and I’m never going to forgive you for it. Never. You got what you wanted, you got your freedom, you got your success but you’re fucking dead, and you said you were ready. What about me? I wasn’t ready, and I’ll never fucking be ready for that. You hurt me and I hate you for it.”
He sobbed, the sound was almost animalistic. He jabbed his finger into Buck’s chest, but the man didn’t move, he didn’t say anything like he was supposed to. He was supposed to argue back to Eddie, he was supposed to laugh and say some stupid thing that had Eddie reeling yet hopelessly in love with him. But he didn’t, because he was fucking dead and there was nothing anybody could do about it.
He wished somebody could do something, anything. He wished God would show him mercy just this once and bring his husband home to him. But God wasn’t merciful to Eddie, He never had been.
His lip quivered as he mulled over his next words. His hand reached back into the casket, his hand grabbing at Buck’s limp one.
“I love you, mi sol.” Eddie said it like a promise: “You were—are my first and my last, and I love you.”
He could almost hear Buck saying it back. He could hear Buck saying it with the utmost gentle tone, with that soft love sick grin he always wore when looking at Eddie, as if his husband had just hung the moon and the stars just for him. He could almost see the twinkle in those blue eyes, like the sun bouncing off of the ocean. He could almost feel him there, but he wasn’t. And Eddie had to accept that, he had to learn to understand that.
With that, he took one last look at Evan’s face. He resisted the urge to lift his cap and press one last tender kiss to his birthmark. He didn’t, because the last time he did, it wasn’t goodbye, it was a see you later. Even if it didn’t feel like one at the time. But, Eddie swore that the soft featherlight kiss to Buck’s birthmark would never mean goodbye, never.
~
It felt wrong walking in front of the casket, Chris at his side in a black suit. He felt like he should’ve been carrying it, just how he and Buck had carried each other through life, never wavering once.
Kennicky had helped Eddie choose who was going to carry his husband’s casket. There were six choices and Kennicky was the obvious one. He’d led Buck through life the moment he met the young SEAL, he’d taken Evan under his wing immediately and held him up through every moment, good or bad. It only made sense that he was the one to be carrying Buck to his resting place.
Mikey was the next obvious choice. He’d been there with Kennicky, the three were as thick as thieves and they had the best times together. Mikey was the oldest brother, he was the best big brother. He loved Evan like he was his blood sibling, it was only right that he got to carry the casket.
Next was Freddie. Buck’s baby brother, Buck’s baby. Buck had taught Freddie everything he knew, he made Freddie into the man he was supposed to be. He’d saved his life countless times, he’d done everything an older brother should. He loved Freddie in the same way that Kennicky and Mikey loved him. Freddie was the obvious choice, because finally, he could repay the debts he had to Buck, even if Buck never counted them, or wanted them paid back for that matter. But it eased Freddie’s guilt.
Then his mom. Effie.
As well as Lena, who had become a big sister for Evan, a best friend, a partner in crime.
And Mandy and Jackie had to as well, because there was no way in hell that their siblings were carrying their little brother’s casket without them there to help. They’d left Evan in a time of need, not that he ever blamed them or wanted them to feel guilty about it, but they’d left. And they wanted to stay now, until the very end.
So Eddie walked with Chris and Maddie at his side. Maddie tried to stay strong, but there were moments where she’d sob and mutter something that Eddie couldn’t quite catch. Chris stood strong, he didn’t cry, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t look like he was feeling any of it, and Eddie was very much in the same boat.
They got to the church and Buck’s immediate family sat in the first few rows. There were many people from the LAFD, as well as the SEALs. There were also many people that Buck had saved throughout both careers, it was almost impossible to understand the sheer amount of lives that Evan Buckley touched. And most of them were in that church. They didn’t cry, but at this point, Kennicky, Freddie and Mikey were doing it enough for everybody. The three were clinging onto one another like their lives depended on it, as if they had nothing else to cling onto.
Eddie was silent. He sat beside the trio, and Chris was on his other side, his son’s tears hadn’t begun to fall yet. Maddie was on Chris’ other side, her hand in his shaking one, and she tried to be strong. But that was her baby, her beautiful, wide eyed, happy amazing baby. Her first kid.
The funeral was different to most other ones planned for people dying in action. Everyone had something to stay, everyone wanted to say something. They couldn’t get let the Navy Admiral say all the words, the words that weren’t personal, that didn’t do Evan justice. Even if the admiral was close to Buck, there was a protocol that she had to follow. But luckily, some people got to say some things about who Buck was, what he did for them and talk about his life.
“This is against protocol,” The admiral said eventually, lifting a gloved hand to wipe at her eyes, a display that nobody had seen before: “But, I just have to say that Evan Buckley—no, Evan Diaz, was one of the best men that I knew.”
Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. Chris stilled and it seemed that the admiral’s words were enough to tip the teenage over the edge, sending him into a fit of sobs. All Eddie could do was pull him close, burying his face into his son’s unruly curls. The same curls that were currently hidden under a cap just a few feet away.
“We talked about him being an excellent commander, how he did his duty, how he put his all into everything he did with us, for us.” She breathed a shaky breath: “But what I haven’t talked about was just how good that man was. Not just as a Commander, but as a father, a husband, a son, a friend, a brother. He was more than a Commander, he was more than the SEALs, and he…he knew it deep down.”
Buck did know that, he knew it but he couldn’t accept it. Everything had been ripped away from him because of the SEALs. He’d lost the chance to be the father that was there for everything, every grazed knee, every show and tell, every school play. He’d lost the chance to be a loving husband, who came home everyday with a smile on his face and excitement to see Eddie. He’d lost everything because of the SEALs, but he couldn’t accept that he was more than just a SEAL because of all of that loss. Because when he lost everything, what was there waiting for him? His team.
“We were lucky to have him as a Commander, but we were luckier to have him as a friend.” She said, “We were lucky that we got to know him. That he showed what a good man he is—was.”
She nodded at the casket and didn’t look back at the crowd.
“Thank you, Commander, for your never ending devotion and for your service.” She concluded, returning to her seat.
Maddie took that as her queue to stand up shakily. She had papers in her hands, words written in messy scrawl, words she had planned for her brother. But, if Buck was anything, he was surprising, underprepared but still somehow was able to say the right things, to do the right things. She put the papers down on her chair and walked slowly up to the podium.
Her hands shook, everyone could see it. But her head was held up strong.
“I had some things written down,” She breathed out, “But, I didn’t want my words about Buck to be planned out. I wanted them to be raw, unfiltered, because that’s who he is.”
She couldn’t bring herself to refer to him in a past tense. It hurt too much.
“Evan was a saviour baby.” She stated to the room, much to most people’s surprise: “I admit, when he came along, I didn’t want him. My brother Daniel, he was sick. I didn’t want a new brother when I already had him. But, Daniel had convinced me to give that baby a try, and I did. Daniel died, and Evan was all I had then. He was a saviour baby and he saved me.”
She let a tear slip down her face; she didn’t brush it away. She didn’t brush it away like she had done with Evan when he first came along. She didn’t brush it away because Buck told her that it was okay to cry, it was okay to feel the pain, it was okay to show that pain. She let the tears fall, she let herself feel and show that pain, she let herself cry, because that was okay.
“He saved a lot of people.” She smiled at everyone: “He was born to save, and that was what he does—did. But, now, I just wish he would’ve saved himself.”
Everyone ducked their heads at that. They wished for it too. Juniper sat a few rows back, wracked with guilt, her hands grabbing at the uniform she was wearing. She would never wear it again, never, because Buck told her to get out. He told her to run while she still could. He saved her in captivity, and he was still saving her now, by being the push she needed to run as far as she could away from the SEALs. To live like she was supposed to.
“I think of him, but I can’t see him as that thirty-five year old man, that grown up man with a family of his own. No, I can’t help but see him as that baby. That baby swaddled in a blanket. I can’t help but see him running through the park with dirt caked all over him, twigs in his hair and his damn Toy Story shoes hitting the ground.” She admitted, grabbing at the podium to keep herself from crumbling: “To you all, you have different visions of him. A hero. A mentor. A father. A husband. A son. But I see him as that baby boy ready to take on the world, trying to win against everything thrown at him. And Evan won. Evan won every damn time.”
She sobbed into her hand.
“You all might think he lost this time, because he died. But Evan won.” She said proudly, despite the devastation wracking her body and words: “Evan won, because he’s at peace. He won because the world can’t throw anything at him anymore. He won because he did everything he wanted to do in this world. He won because—because he loved. He saved, and in his last moments, he won because he’d saved one last life. Even if it meant the end of his own. He won.”
Eddie felt anger rising. His husband didn’t just end his own life, no, he ended Eddie’s along with it. He ended Christopher’s too. He ended so many lives just by losing his own. He couldn’t forgive Buck for that. He won, and he took everything with him.
“I remember one day, Buck broke his arm for the first time.” She frowned a little: “Yes, the first. He was five, and he cried, a lot. He cried but when he got his cast on and he could choose a colour, he turned to me and he asked me if…”
3rd June 1997
“It’s okay, Evan,” Maddie comforted as Evan looked at the large cast around his arm. Their parents were outside the hospital, their mother refused to go in, she couldn’t. Their dad was outside with her, not supporting his daughter, who wasn’t even a teenager, or his son who had just broken his arm.
“Okay, honey, what colour would you like, huh?” The doctor asked, her voice sweet and caring. Evan looked puzzled, as if he wasn’t expecting a choice on the matter. He looked up at Maddie with these wide blue eyes, still glassy with tears; they had wonder in them, a sort of happiness that Maddie adored seeing within them.
“Can I get pink?” He asked excitedly, “You like pink!”
“You’re right, I do.” She said softly, brushing a curl out of his eyes: “But, do you?”
“Mommy says it’s a girl colour, but I like pink.” He said with a huff: “And you like pink.”
“Buddy, I like pink, but that doesn’t mean you have to choose pink because of me.” She chided gently, the doctor watching the interaction with softness in her gaze. Evan just hummed, seeming to think over his next words.
“But you like pink, and I like pink. And you helped me, like a—like a hero!” He said proudly: “And I want pink because you like pink and I like it and you’re my hero and you leave sometimes and I want pink because it’s pretty like you and when you go I’ll know you’re still there!”
Her heart melted, blushing a little at being called a hero. She was just being a good big sister, she wasn’t a hero. But it seemed that Buck was adamant about that.
“Okay, bud, we can get you pink.” Maddie said looking up at the doctor, who simply nodded happily: “And I’m not going anywhere, not for long.”
There were a few coos in the room at Buck’s past adorableness. Maddie wiped her eyes with a laugh, he really was the most precious thing. To her, he still was.
It was not a secret that Buck had blood on his hands, that he’d killed people, that he’d injured them, marred them beyond recognition. But to her, none of that mattered because that man was just her baby brother who wanted a pink cast in the hospital that one day, because she was his hero. When in reality, he was her hero. But he wasn’t just hers.
“That was just one part of his childhood, and I’d love to tell more,” She said somberly, “But I think it’s time for me to let Evan rest now.”
She climbed down from the podium, falling straight into Chim’s arms, cuddling both him and her children close. Her children were too young to understand right now, but they knew mommy was sad and that uncle Evan had gone to play with his daddy somewhere.
Kennicky and Mikey stood up next, linking arms like they used to do with their brother. Buck wasn’t in the middle like he was supposed to be, making their movements a little more uncoordinated than planned. But, they got to the podium and they stood, looking around the room.
Kennicky looked worse for wear, his eyes were dimmed and rimmed red, and his face was sunken. He looked like a shell of the person he used to be. His soulmate had died, everyone knew that Link and Evan were soulmates, brothers in everything but blood, and Kennicky was now left without his other half. And Kennicky would spend the rest of his life looking for that other half, never quite understanding that his brother was gone, never quite being able to accept it, and always seeking him out even when Evan was in a place that human eyes couldn’t seek out themselves.
Mikey wasn’t much better. Evan may not have been his soulmate in the way Kennicky had been, but he’d been pretty damn close to it. He’d been Mikey’s first kid, in the way that Evan had been Maddie’s first kid too. He’d been Mikey’s oxygen after suffocating for so long. If Evan was the flame, Mikey was the match, if Evan was the gun, Mikey was the trigger. Evan meant everything to Mikey, he was his baby brother, the one that had so much to do, so much to prove, so much to live for. He’d been Mikey’s hope, his symbol of hope and resilience. He’d been evidence that if the days got so dark, there was always a way to turn the light on. Evan was everything.
“We met Evan when he was seventeen,” Mikey started for them: “He was seventeen, Kennicky was twenty-three, and I was twenty-six. He was just this tiny cocksure little shit, and we loved him straight away. He had his hair jelled back and this birthmark that we thought was a result of a fight, and with the way he walked around anybody would’ve thought that.” Mikey laughed, as did everyone else.
“Yeah, he was a feisty kid,” Kennicky agreed: “Had this Texan accent that came from him being, again, a little shit and copying everyone around him until it eventually became his own. He didn’t even notice. He was always spouting things like ‘Y’all ain’t nothin’ on me!’ even though he was the lowest on the food chain. But, god, maybe we didn’t have anything on him, he really gave us a run for our money every day.”
His impression of Buck’s accent seemed practiced, perfected over years upon years. It had been eighteen years spent together, constantly bickering, constantly fighting, arms linked together, brawls in the sand or grass. It had been eighteen years of making that impression, and now the victim of the impression would never hear it again, he’d never laugh about it again, he’d never shove Kennicky off his bed with a groan every time that accent filtered through the air.
“We’d like to say nice things about him,” Mikey smirked sadly, “Truly, but he was a piece of shit and he knew it.”
There were more laughs in the crowd, so Kennicky continued: “If the guy wasn’t insulting us to our faces, he was stealing Mikey’s food, or sometimes, his prosthetic leg. And if he wasn’t terrorising Mikey, he was bleeding out on me. He was my brother in everything but blood, but the amount of times I’ve had his hands in one of my bullet wounds, or my hands in his, or we were bleeding out together, I’d like to say that we shared just enough blood that we may as well be brothers in everything, especially blood.”
“I may not have been around to share as much blood with Evan as this guy was, but I can safely say that blood doesn’t matter when he saved my life and gave me back the chance to be a father and husband. He’s my brother and nobody can make any mistake of that, he’s my brother, and I love him, no matter how much of a shithead he was.” Mikey informed the crowd with a tone of finality and humour.
Kennicky took a shaky breath.
“And I know he’d be laughing at us right now, happy that we’re trying to make light of the situation. But we can’t make light of it when our light doesn’t even hold a candle to his.” Kennicky’s voice cracked: “His husband called him the sun, his sun, and I have no doubt that he was the embodiment of it. It was the perfect name for a person so imperfect I can’t help but think he was perfect just the way he was.”
If Buck was the sun, Eddie was Icarus. Buck didn’t have wings, but he soared. Eddie had wings, and he fell once he got too close to the sun. His wings burnt up, and Buck gained his own. He was now soaring above everybody, leaving them in the dust he’d left behind with the power of his departure, he would be smiling, he would be screaming out of joy. Because he had made it, he had gotten free of the shackles he was bound to, even if sometimes those shackles didn’t seem too bad. Even if he didn’t feel like being grounded was too bad. Buck grew his wings, and Eddie’s burnt away. And one day, one day in the future he’d never remember having wings at all. He’d never remember the pain of those wings burning away, sending him plummeting to the ground. Buck grew his wings, and Eddie lost his.
Eddie supposed that was how it was always supposed to be.
“He was perfect.” Mikey agreed solemnly: “And I hate that he’s never coming home.” He continued, his voice thick with tears that he hadn’t let fall while speaking.
“He had home in so many different places,” Kennicky said, meeting Eddie’s eyes, then gazing at Maddie and then at Effie. He smiled at them all, his eyes watering as he continued to speak: “So many places, but for him, home wasn’t a place, home was his people, his family. Many of us here are Evan’s family, most of us are, and I think I speak for all of us when I say it was a privilege to be his family, no matter where we stood in it.”
He was looking at Evan’s body, still peaceful in the casket, still unmoving. His tears slipped down his face just looking at his brother, because Buck looked like he was sleeping. Memories flashed through his mind rapidly, each as happy and painful as the next.
16th April 2009
Kennicky was a light sleeper, he snored loudly, and often he woke up to his own snores. He slept in bed alone, Evan’s bed just to his left and Mikey’s to his right. Sometimes he’d wake up to Mikey shifting in his bed, or Evan muttering in his sleep about random facts he’d found out. But, he never expected to be woken up to somebody climbing into his bed with practiced ease, like this had happened time and time again.
He turned to look at who was invading his space, only to find Evan giving him a lazy look and an eyebrow raise, as if he was daring Kennicky to say something about it, daring Kennicky to tell him to piss off. Kennicky just moved over, giving Evan more space in the bed. He didn’t mind, but he would’ve appreciated a warning regarding a sleepover. Evan’s head hit Kennicky’s pillow and he was out like a light again, and Kennicky tried to sleep; it was all too weird. Well, it wasn’t weird per say, Kennicky himself had crawled into Mikey’s bed more times than he could count. But it was weird that Evan, the new start, who was so cocksure and uncaring about anything, was climbing into his bed and it somehow felt natural.
He fell asleep not long after, face mushed into the pillow just like Evan was doing.
He woke up earlier than the kid; that was only because Mikey was prodding at his foot. And when Kennicky blinked away the blur in his eyes, he raised an eyebrow at Mikey.
“When did he get there?” Mikey asked quietly, looking at the kid that was bundled into his side. Kennicky hadn’t even noticed the fact he had an arm around Evan, and he didn’t care to think about when that could’ve happened.
“Some point during the night,” Kennicky replied just as quietly: “I don’t mind.”
“Didn’t say you did.” Mikey shrugged, walking back to his bed to pull on his shoes: “Do you think he’s homesick?”
Kennicky thought for a moment, Evan never really mentioned family. Only mentioning his older sister briefly, and it was so brief it was easy to forget that Evan had a sister at all. He didn’t speak of his parents, it seemed that the closest thing he had to a family was his sister and the men that trained him back on base.
“No, I think he’s just…” Kennicky trailed off, not wanting to be a sappy shit. Mikey snorted.
“You think he’s realised that home is here?” Mikey asked, always the observant kind: “Because I agree, have you seen the way he bothers Brian?”
“Like a little kid would with his dad,” Kennicky laughed, accidentally waking up Evan, who shot up. He took in his surroundings, blinking quickly despite his bone deep exhaustion being obvious.
“Morning.” He said easily, as if he wasn’t sharing a bed with a man he barely knew. Mikey just nodded back at him.
That was the start of countless nights of sharing a bed. That was the start of Mikey and Kennicky pushing their beds together and throwing Evan in the centre of it. That was the true start of their brotherhood.
Kennicky saw him everywhere he went from that day he died. He’d wake up in his hotel room and look to the side, his left side, where Evan always used to sleep. He’d see him, and he’d blink, and he was gone again. He saw him when the sun was shining, he saw him laughing with bright blue eyes that were as clear as the sky. He saw him when it rained, running around in the rain and finding joy in the uncomfortableness of it all. And he’d turn away, just to look at something, and he wasn’t there anymore. He saw Evan everywhere, and it was like flicking through pages of a book, trying to find one line in a sea of thousands, never truly being able to find it again, unsure if it was in that book or another.
Good things don’t last, and Evan was the best of things.
“Do you need a minute?” Mikey whispered, turning away from the crowd and looking at his younger brother with concern. Always the caring one, he was. Mikey was the worrywart of the trio, Kennicky was the enabler, and Buck just did shit.
“I’m okay.” He lied.
“No you’re not.” Mikey countered: “But, I’ll let it be. I don’t think anybody is okay right now.”
And he was right. Everyone in that room was not okay. Most weren’t even close to it.
“For a while, Evan’s family was just the SEALs. He had brothers and sisters there, a mom and a dad.” Mikey said: “But we all knew there was more for him out there, he just had to find it, he just had to accept it. And he did, he found it after Kennicky shot himself, he found it in Eddie. And after that, he found a family in the 118. He had brothers and sisters there, and for a while, he couldn’t accept that he also had a father. We couldn’t take care of him then, but you did. And I speak for the entirety of Kennedy when I say thank you, thank you for caring for Evan when we couldn’t.”
The SEAL personnel in the crowd all nodded in agreement as the firefighters seemed to crumble at the words. It was like two worlds colliding, thanking one another for their service and care for one man that meant the world to each and every one of them. Buck would’ve squealed at the idea of everyone he loved being in one room, but he wasn’t there to see it. It only hurt more knowing that.
And it seemed that everyone knew that.
With that, the two brothers walked back to their seats. It wasn’t surprising to see Bobby Nash walk up next, as it seemed to be the right time for an extract from Buck’s 118 days, his firefighting days that he adored oh so much. It was always the job that Evan wanted to do, it was always the one he wanted a chance at, and he’d gotten it, and he loved it, more than the SEALs, if that was even possible. But, he’d been ripped away from it, just like he had with everything else.
Bobby stood at the podium, and he had this look of learned devastation. Like he’d dealt with this before. And everyone knew that he had.
It was no secret to anybody that over the five years of Buck’s departure back to the SEALs, he had kept in touch with Bobby. He sent photos, letters, he called when he could, he kept in contact. Bobby was his father by the end of it all, Buck was his son. He had died his son, and Bobby was his dad. Bobby had lost two kids before he had lost Buck, and now he’d lost three.
He was shaking as he stood there, his eyes glued to nothing, his gaze was flickering around the room. He looked like he was looking for somebody, or something, but nobody knew what he was looking for.
“The chief wanted to talk about Buck’s service with us.” Bobby stated, his voice was harsh, bitter and completely done: “But, I thought it would be better coming from somebody that was with him every step of the way while with the 118.”
Every member of the LAFD nodded in agreement, every life Buck touched nodded in agreement.
“When I first met Buck, he was covered in sea water, drenched from head to toe and bleeding. He had Christopher in a blanket, held to his chest and I just knew he never planned on letting that child go.” Bobby told everyone, “I knew him to be a dead man, but I learned that he was full of life. I thought it was impossible to believe he could die, I didn’t even think he knew how to.”
There was laughter around the room, pained laughter, but laughter nonetheless. Buck would’ve loved hearing people laugh when remembering him. He would’ve loved it.
“Then he stepped into my station two days after the tsunami.” Bobby informed, “He was still busted up, but he came in with laughter and a smile on his face. I knew he was going to be a good member of our team then, and I knew that was solidified the moment he soaked himself to the bone just to help a little boy overcome his fear of water.”
That sounded like Buck. Always going further than he was supposed to just to save somebody, even if it wasn’t in a life or death situation. He did anything for anybody, for no matter how big or small of a reason. He did it anyway, because that was who he was.
“He was an amazing asset to our team.” Bobby told the audience, “He was even more of an amazing asset to our family. He became like a son to me, and a brother, or husband to the rest. Maybe he was closed off at the start, but every time we learned something new, we loved him that little bit more.”
And that was true. Every bit of ground they gained from him, they took it and grew a garden with it. They let Buck give what he wanted to give, and they took it in their strides, just happy to know that man. That man who was insane with his rescues, his dark humour and social stupidity that seemed to appear at the worst times. They loved him for it though.
“He pulled off impossible rescues, he did impossible things.” Bobby wiped a tear from his eye: “I always tell my team to find a third option, and he took that and ran miles with it. One time he asked me how we know there’s nothing we can do if we haven’t tried everything, and I think that sums up who Evan Buckley is.”
Eddie sobbed into his hand at that. They hadn’t tried everything to keep Buck alive, no, they’d let him die. They let him drift away, or be wrenched away like Eddie liked to put it. It was just another bit of evidence that at the very end, Buck wasn’t Buck. He hadn’t tried everything, he hadn’t tried to stay alive. His husband was a shell of who he used to be, and Eddie found himself blaming himself.
“When he was away on deployment, he’d call, he’d ask for recipes he could make with rations.” Bobby laughed wetly: “Rations, which are pre-made meals. Of course, I helped, but whatever concoctions he made over there, well, they’re certainly none of my business for my mental health's sake.”
Everyone laughed again. Eddie grew angrier.
“I think that was just him finding an excuse to call me.” Bobby cried, “What I would give for one more phone call.”
Athena rushed to the podium, taking his hand in hers and gently leading the man away. Everyone sat stunned, because one minute, Bobby was laughing, he was joking, and the next, he wasn’t. He was sobbing out for a son, a third chance of a child he never thought he’d get, and he’d lost that chance. Buck was dead.
Maddie turned to Eddie, who was staring forward numbly. His anger felt like electricity under his skin, pulsing and snapping against him internally. Maddie sighed and moved to stand up and face everyone again, but Eddie stood up abruptly. She fell back down to her seat, almost out of shock at the abruptness of Eddie’s movements, as well as the fact he was willing to speak. He hadn’t been willing to speak much since Buck’s death.
Eddie gripped the podium once he got there. He looked like a wreck as he stood, he stared at everyone, his eyes dead as he did so. He was so exhausted, was this how Buck felt? Was this feeling the reason Buck gave in? He hunched his shoulders as thoughts worked their way in circles around his mind. He ducked his head before bringing his gaze back up.
“Buck told me once that if I hated him, it showed I care.” Eddie gritted out: “And I hate him.”
The crowd was dead silent, the sound of a feather hitting the ground could’ve been heard. But there was no noise other than Eddie’s jagged breathing.
“I care.” Eddie muttered, the microphone picked it up: “I hate him, and I love him and it’s not fair. It’s not fair that even when he’s fucking dead that he can still make me feel so much, too much.”
Eddie caught the eyes of Lena, who nodded at him, urging him to continue. Eddie knew he shouldn’t speak bad of a dead person, he knew it was even worse to talk about his husband like this. But he had to, he had to shout it so Buck could hear him, so Buck knew he still cared, no matter how far apart they were.
He couldn’t mutter how much he loved and cared for Buck when Buck needed it shouting at him. But he was now, he was screaming it, every night since he was gone, he screamed it into his pillow, he sobbed every night, so loudly. He knew Chris could hear him, but he couldn’t stop for anybody.
“I miss him.” Eddie told everyone, “It’s normal to say that, right? A husband misses his dead husband? Yeah, normal. Me and Buck weren’t normal. I miss him in a way that’s indescribable. People say they miss him like a limb, or all those other crappy metaphors that don’t really hold any weight to them. I miss him in a way I can’t put into words.”
Everyone ducked their heads at that. Eddie’s anger pooled the hall, it was suffocating, it was painful. It was ugly. They couldn’t bear to look at the train wreck in front of them.
“I met him when we were nineteen and twenty-one, in a hospital of all places. I guess just by saying that, everyone should’ve known that we were fucked from the beginning. Hospitals weren’t our scene.” Eddie spat out, eyes glowing in rage: “He kept popping up, didn’t he? Like a parasite, and I let him invade my soul from day one. I should’ve batted him away, told him to leave me alone. Then I wouldn’t be dealing with this.”
He was screaming by that point, his voice was hoarse and it felt like his throat was bleeding with the power of his tone, the passion of his words.
“He left me, he left me to fend for myself in this cruel world. I will never forgive him for leaving me, I will never forgive him for dying, I will never forgive him for making me wait here forever.” Eddie hit his hand on the podium, making it rattle under the force: “He knows where he is. He knows where he is, and he knows where he left me. He let me down again. He took the rug from under my feet and burnt it, he let me burn with it as he walked away. He didn’t look back at me, he just kept fucking going. I begged him not to go.”
“I begged him not to go.” Eddie roared, tears streaming down his red face: “He let me down and let me hang around like some ragdoll on a noose. And I—I fucking hate my husband.”
Eddie ran a hand through his hair, his knuckles white as a hand still gripped the podium. It was the only thing keeping him steady.
“He was the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know he knows it.” Eddie cried: “The worst part is, I can’t blame him. I can hate him and I can love him, but I can’t blame him. And that’s because we all know what happened to him, we all know why he’s left me alone. And I can’t blame him for it, because I would rather burn forever than do that. It wasn’t his fault.”
Eddie took a shuddering breath before whispering his final words: “I think it was mine.”
He walked away, settling back down next to Christopher. Christopher, who looked at him like he’d just burned the world around them. He was horrified. And even more so when the Admiral dropped down in front of the two of them, holding a flag in her hands. She was speaking but neither knew what she was saying. They were caught up in hating something. Chris hating his dad and Eddie hating Buck.
When Eddie made no move for the flag, Chris took it in shaking hands. The fabric was stiff, coarse against his flesh. It felt cold, it was rough. Eddie stayed still and stuck in time, and Chris felt the same way.
~
“Maybe.” Buck replied, “If I don’t, don’t bury me. I don’t want to be in one place forever.”
“I’ll make sure we don’t bury you.” She confirmed, and all he could do was whisper the faintest of thank yous, as his mind whirled with apologies.
They buried Buck.
It was as if that conversation never existed in the first place. As if it never took place in Maddie’s kitchen years ago. He was buried, he was stuck in one place forever, with a tomb stone and flowers on the ground that contained his rotting body. That wasn’t what he wanted, but he hadn’t had a choice in anything else, so why would he have a choice when he was dead?
By that point, everyone had gone to the wake. It was a somber party that Chris wanted no part of, and luckily for him, it was in a local bar, just down the road from the graveyard. It was snowing, and Chris knew he should’ve probably gotten another jacket from somebody, but he sat down in the snow, his own jacket over his shoulders. He had his knees tucked up into his chest, his arms wrapping around them. He felt small, so small, and maybe that was because the headstone Buck had gotten practically dwarfed him.
He sat at the foot of the grave, there were so many flowers pushing him further away. His glasses sat on top of his head, his eyes bore into the marble stone and the words engraved into it. The words weren’t personal, just the same ones on nearly every other headstone. The common ones, about how Buck was a loving father, son, brother and husband. That shit that Chris didn’t think really portrayed Buck to the fullest extent that he could’ve been.
It was so cold he could see his own breath, and his hands were red raw. His slacks were soaked from the snow, and he felt the entire bottom half of his body becoming numb, but he didn’t want to move. He wanted to sit in front of Buck’s grave forever, he wanted to be with Buck forever. He wanted his dad to come home.
He’d truly believed that Buck would pull round, that he’d pull off the impossible again, like he always did. But then Eddie hadn’t come back to get him the morning after. Jackie had done, and her face was somber, yet it didn’t give anything away. Chris didn’t know Buck was gone until he saw his father’s vacant expression in the hospital waiting room. It was when they made eye contact, it was then, that Christopher knew his Buck was gone.
And even now, sat in front of a headstone that felt like a figment of his imagination, he didn’t quite believe that Buck was gone. Even though he was six feet underground, just by Chris’ feet. He didn’t feel like he’d said a proper goodbye, but Buck had. The words that Buck said made sense, the praises of Christopher’s smarts, Buck telling Chris about how smart he was, they all made sense. Buck knew he was going to die, and Chris had believed otherwise. Buck didn’t tell him, and even though Chris grappled with himself, attempting to find some deeply hidden anger about his father keeping that secret, he just couldn’t find it. He just felt hollow, as well as washed out from all the sadness. All the tears he’d shed left him empty.
He knew that if Buck was there, first of all, he wouldn’t even be in the situation he was in. But if Buck was there, by his side, he would’ve urged him away from the cold, into a warm place, with the promise of a hot chocolate and maybe a chocolate bar that Eddie wasn’t to know about. But Buck wasn’t there to offer that, Buck wasn’t there to coax Chris out of the cold. And Chris found himself staying in the cold.
He found himself staying there even as the sun began to paint orange hues in the sky, and even as the sun fell and the stars took place instead. Chris always loved the stars, but he couldn’t find any interest in them, not when he knew that once somebody came to get him, Buck would be alone in the dark, in the cold. Buck didn’t like being in the snow, he didn’t like being in the cold. He liked the dark, but he didn’t like the dark in the snow.
Chris dug into his pocket, grabbing his keys. On his keychain, he had a small torch. One that Eddie had given to him for a just in case situation. Chris thought it was stupid, he had a phone for a reason. But Chris was grateful now. He heard footsteps crunching over fallen leaves and frozen snow, and he quickly flicked the torch on, settling it between the flowers.
“Chris?” Bobby asked, Chris relaxed his shoulders. It was just Bobby.
Bobby sat down beside him, he ignored the cold and the discomfort of his trousers getting soaked. He just sat with Chris, and not long after sitting down, he pulled his jacket off. He wrapped it around Chris’ shoulders, running a hand up and down the teen’s arm. He was quiet for a while.
“”What’s with the torch?” Bobby asked quietly, it almost got caught up in the wind.
“He doesn’t like the dark.” Chris muttered, leaning subconsciously into Bobby’s side. He expected a sigh, but Bobby nodded instead.
“Let’s get you home and warm.” Bobby said after a while of silence. Chris nodded and looked up at the sky, his glasses slipping off of his head.
He couldn’t blame anybody he knew for Buck’s death. He could blame the men and women that stole his father from him and beat the man black and blue, but one thing Chris did know, was that his dad had killed them. He should’ve been disgusted, but he felt a sick sense of satisfaction knowing that Buck got the last laugh, even if it didn’t last for long enough.
He decided to blame the stars. He didn’t know why, but he decided to blame them. Because they were something they all had in common, at night they saw the stars, the same ones. So he blamed the stars.
“I don’t like stars.” Chris told Bobby, as the man gently guided him away from the grave. Bobby stilled a little, but again he only nodded. He didn’t have an opinion, or maybe he did, and he just decided not to give it. Either way, Chris didn’t know if he should’ve been grateful for the silence or angry over it. Instead, he ignored his thoughts and kept walking.
He’d blame the stars. That’s what he’d do.