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You’re going back where you belong
Back where you belong.
In the dim light of the restaurant, surrounded by his team (always his team, always), it’s the only thing he can hear. Something is blocking the 118’s ridiculous chatter and replacing the clang of cutlery. Everything fades away into one point. One sentence uttered not even two hours ago, the approval from his best friend that he didn’t need but certainly appreciated.
Except — back where you belong. It felt… wrong. Defeatist. Uncanny and disorienting. Like staring down a dark hallway for too long, convinced there’s a monster in the shadows.
There was nowhere for Eddie but beside Christopher. He knew that. After giving his notice at the station, it’s not far-fetched to assume everyone knew that. Even when he was deployed, or eating shit at all three of his jobs, or fighting a losing battle against sucky wifi just to see Chris’ scowling face, he knew they would always be a set. He was his son, as much as Chris may loathe to admit it now, and that meant they would always be together. It was always inevitable that he would go back where he belonged.
But now, sitting amongst his closest friends, he can’t help but wonder. Seven years is a long time, but not so long that Eddie has forgotten the Buck he met that first day at the station. Testy, territorial, and haunting his globetrotting girlfriend’s apartment. His girlfriend, who left to see the world and find where she belonged.
You’re going back where you belong.
He’s not just thrown off by it; he’s pissed off. He had felt himself, throat tight with rage, and ready to give as good as he took it. If Hen, Chimney, and Bobby hadn’t shown up, who knew what he would’ve done. After the past few days, it’s not like Buck has the monopoly on petty outbursts. And fine, they were fine, that’s what the hug and the subletting and the sitting side by side at this damn dinner were about. But it shakes something loose in him, flips the stone hiding bugs. Desperate creatures scurrying about for a new cover to avoid the light. The truth.
“The bill’s going to be a pretty penny, but I didn’t think it’d be so bad you went catatonic,” Buck says, voice soft and subdued as he nudges him. It nearly makes Eddie jolt out of his skin, snapping back into the restaurant where the crowd has thinned around them and even the team seems ready to head out. At some point, the waiter must have stopped by with the check, since it sits in front of Eddie. It’s on one of those stupid tiny wooden clipboards. He never understood why some restaurants had to change from the black plastic check holders. A clipboard belonged at an inventory check or a building inspection or in Buck’s hands, but not here, presenting a flimsy piece of heat transfer paper that would end up crumpled and discarded within a week, illegible even to the sharpest eye.
Silently, Eddie pulls out his wallet and puts down a card at random. The waiter must have been watching nearby, because there’s barely time for his hand to release it before it's swept up and headed to a POS system.
“Don’t worry, I’m a landlord now. I’ll just double next month’s rent to make my money back.” Eddie flashes a tight grin, hopefully with more enthusiasm than he feels. It seems to work well enough, Buck letting out a chuckle.
“Here you go! Thank you for dining with us. I hope whatever you’re celebrating goes well.” The waiter glides back over, dropping the check in front of him with a smile. Before anyone can correct them, they’ve fled the section.
The tenuous peace they’ve built stills. Eddie signs the check, applying more force to the pen than necessary when he sees the ink bleed through the thin paper. The rest of the 118 seem content in sharing hugs and goodbyes, but Eddie finds himself stuck in the booth with Buck, who has gone very still since the interruption. The freeze is over in a second, blink and you miss it, and Buck perks up again to start towards the doors, waiting at the edge of the table for Eddie to follow him out. Like Blaze, waiting for an owner they hoped would be coming back.
They shuffle out of the restaurant, almost knocking shoulders once before Buck sidesteps him to open the door. Eddie feels the itch under his skin again, the rush of heat that comes with scathing words and harsh truths. They parked next to each other, like it’s a normal dinner and not the end of everything, but Eddie can’t stop himself from putting his hand on Buck’s elbow when he goes towards the Jeep’s driver door.
“When you said…” Eddie starts, trailing off at Buck’s full attention. He can’t read people, has never had the same intuition that guides Bobby or Hen, but he’d like to think Buck is the exception. At least when there’s obvious hurt in his face like now. It’s what propels him to continue. “When you said I was just going back where I belong, what did you mean?”
“Are you serious? Come on, you know what I meant,” Buck replies, seeming resigned to the fact that he’s going to have to spell it out. “You said it yourself, you don’t have ties here. You need to be in El Paso with Chris. You’re going to where you belong.”
“But that’s just it. You said I was going back. Where was I before that?” Eddie prompts.
Buck opens his mouth, looking ready to give some smartass reply about being in LA and not Texas. Eddie fixes him with a look, and he purses his lips. A breeze sweeps through the space between them, reminding Eddie he’s still holding Buck’s arm. He feels powerless to let it go.
“It’s been really nice being with you and Christopher. It’s no surprise that the 118 is my family, but you guys were always there with me. My best friend and the coolest kid anyone could ever know. I’m glad I met you. But now you need to be with Chris. And I get that — I really do, and I’m not making this about me, not anymore, so I’m just giving you back to where you belong. I’ve been trying to help, so you don’t have to worry about dealing with me on top of everything else. You can go where you need to be, and I know that’s where you’re meant to be. I’ll take care of your place until your lease is up and you can move on,” Buck finishes, taking in a shaky deep breath at the end.
It’s… thoughtful if it were anyone else. But Eddie knows a few things in this world, and one of those is his best friend. He’s not just being supportive; he’s removing himself from the equation. Giving up on Eddie.
Like you’re giving up on him, a traitorous voice echoes in his head. But it’s not giving up, it’s choosing to try harder — for Chris. His son.
“Do you remember what I said after I got shot?” Eddie says, fuming for reasons he can’t begin to unravel. Buck eyes him funnily, leaning back against his car door, and loosening the hold Eddie has on him.
“You said a lot, man, gotta be more specific than that,” Buck laughs, high and shaky like he’s afraid to upset the delicate balance they have.
“You’re not expendable. You’re not something to throw away. I’m leaving, but it’s not you, I need to be with Chris.” Eddie cuts himself off sharply. He’s staring straight into Buck’s eyes and sees the moment they harden. Buck narrows them slightly, and a cruel smile pulls at his face.
“I’m not? Should I count the ways?” Buck asks, holding up a closed fist like he’s actually contemplating. “My parents, who haven’t spoken to me since Maddie’s wedding.” His thumb shoots up, a facsimile of a thumbs-up. “Maddie, my sister, not once but twice.” Index finger up. “Every ex I’ve ever had, including but not limited to Abby and Tommy.” Middle finger. “A dog I rescued from a fire and a shelter, that couldn’t last more than a week with me.” Ring finger. “And last but not least, my best fucking friend and his kid, who are moving 800 miles away from me forever.” His pinky joins the rest, and he wiggles his fingers for emphasis. “And it’s fine, like I said earlier, I’m never going to ask you to choose me over Chris — that’s ridiculous. But if you ask me, there’s a pretty clear pattern that yes, I am expendable, and maybe it’s because I make everything about me, or I’m exhausting, but at least I’m honest about it. I’m not so deluded as to think anyone will ever belong with me. I’m a stopping point,” Buck says bitterly.
There’s a ringing in Eddie’s ears. He doesn’t get it, why he’s so angry right now.
“You’re doing it again! None of that is even about you. People just have to go sometimes.”
“Well, when it’s me, it seems like it’s all they ever have to do,” Buck spits out, biting and terse.
“You stayed in Abby’s place for months when she ghosted you, but I’m telling you exactly what’s happening, and you’re done with me?”
“Abby has nothing to do with this! Don’t even try to compare that situation, and if you were I’d say it’s pretty obvious that I’ve learned nothing since then. Subletting, haunting another house? Trust me, I already know how pathetic it is.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. God, Buck, I’m just saying that it’s not nothing that I’m leaving, and it’s not because of some curse you have that people have left before. They all had their own shit they were dealing with.”
“What does it matter why they did it? It still happened! Somehow, I’m still the one who always gets stuck here.” Buck’s voice is raised but defeated as he runs his hand wildly through his hair.
“It matters because obviously no one would leave you if they had the chance. How could you possibly not see that if I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t?” Eddie shouts, his breath shuddering as his final words echo through the parking lot. Silence falls on the two of them. The faint rumble of traffic continues in the background, but he can’t stop looking into Buck’s eyes.
Oh. Oh.
It’s like the grenade has finally completed enough turns and explodes. Because, can this really be what’s been eating him all this time? He’s going to Texas, there’s no question about it. And he’s never spared a moment wondering if it was the right call.
But…
But he can’t deny he’s been feeling more guilt at the situation than he expected. Especially seeing the pinched look on Buck’s face as his frown deepens. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s working through a puzzle. Whatever he’s contemplating, it ends with his eyes softening and his right hand reaching out for a second. He stills, never making contact, and instead shoves his hand into his pocket.
“I know maybe I haven’t responded the best to everything, but I get it. You don’t have to feel guilty for putting your family first,” Buck assures.
It’s absolution, and it’s never felt more like ash on his tongue. Because at the end of it all —
“But you’re important to me, too. You… you’re my partner,” Eddie protests. He feels like he’s losing his whole mind. Not even four hours ago he was ready to fight Buck to let him go, and now all he wants is to hold him close. But he still has to go. At the end of the day, he’s going to have to go. Because, as much as he hated Buck saying it, he was right. He would always belong with Chris. No matter where else he might want to be, he was a homing pigeon trained to be at Christopher’s side.
“I know. But we both know who the priority is. It’s just been the best getting to have your back,” Buck says. He smiles, thin and small, but still there. The lamppost flickers near them, and there’s music playing from somewhere nearby, faint but noticeable in the quiet spring night.
“Why does it sound so much like goodbye? I’m not gone yet,” Eddie says. He wants to get in his truck, floor it, and leave this moment behind forever. He wants to invent a way to stop time to stand here forever, in front of Buck, understanding each other in a way they hadn’t had since announcing his move.
“It’s not goodbye. But I don’t think I can handle waiting for the hope that one day you’ll be back. I don’t want to feel like that, no, I can’t feel like that anymore.” Buck sighs, and his eyes are watery in the moonlight.
“I can’t promise what happens once I’m gone,” Eddie acquiesces, “but I do know that you’ll always be my partner. I’ve got your back, whether I’m down the road or across state lines.”
Buck doesn’t say anything, his lip quirking into a rueful smile. He leans forward instead, getting closer before wrapping his arms around Eddie. He’s quick to return the hug, folding his arms around Buck’s waist. He feels Buck’s face nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Soft puffs of his breath hit his neck and electrify Eddie. Now this is a moment he could live in forever.
But he can’t.
He can’t stay, he can’t stop time, and he certainly can’t tell Buck. He knows where he belongs.
He can’t be another person in a long line of people that’s promised love to keep Buck hooked on the line. More than that, he won’t. It’s unfair to everyone involved. He has no plans of returning, and he’s not one for ultimatums. It can’t be him versus Buck’s life in LA. It won’t. Especially when Eddie knows what Buck will choose without question.
With more strength than he thinks he’s capable of, Eddie peels himself back. He brings his hand up to Buck’s shoulder, resting his thumb on his collarbone. It’s comforting, it’s warmth, it’s Buck.
“I’ve got you, always,” Eddie promises. It feels small compared to the warm pressure gripping his heart. But seeing Buck’s genuine, albeit small, smile makes it feel like the greatest thing he could’ve done.
“You’ve got me,” Buck assures. They linger, grazing hands, before eventually they have to go. Buck’s overdue for a sleepover with Jee-Yun, and Eddie’s got a hot date with his packing boxes.
Eddie goes to his truck, hearing the engine roar to life as he turns the key. Leaving the parking lot, he can’t help but spare a last glance as Buck gets into his own truck. It hits him all at once, watching Buck not start driving until he’s rolled his windows down, like he always does on cool nights when he’s stuck in his head.
Somehow, after everything, that’s what gets him. Knowing and loving someone so dearly, but leaving them anyway. Finally, wanting to stay somewhere, but needing to run anyway. Shannon would probably find that hysterical if she could see him now, snorting the way she only did when Eddie would tell her a truly ridiculous joke as they skipped rocks at the reservoir.
It’s the final thought that lets him feel it all as he heads towards his empty home. Alone. He bites at the knuckle of his balled fist, trying to choke back the sobs.
The tears are falling before he realizes it. His only witness is the low lights of his dashboard.