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BANG.
It all flashed before his eyes.
The building — collapsing, crumbling into dust and debris.
All coming apart in front of him.
He stood frozen, chaos erupting around him, sirens blaring in the distance, voices shouting orders he couldn’t hear.
“ BUCK! ”
The word tore from his throat before he even registered saying it. His best friend — his partner — was still in that building when it fell.
Eddie didn’t know what he was feeling. Not really. Not until his legs started moving, gravel crunching under his boots with every desperate step.
His heart thundered in his chest, drowning out the noise around him.
How could this happen?
How the hell could he let this happen?
“I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME!” His words were like smoke to his own ears but it felt like lightning striking across his tongue.
It was like he was trying to grab Buck with nothing but his voice. Like if he said it with enough desperation, Buck would hear him — would hold on.
He had to.
Eddie wasn’t going to let go.
Even if it killed him.
He could hear Hen scream “ Wait! ” far behind him, echoing after his words.
She was scared too — her words hung in the air like static, blurring the moment, trembling straight through Eddie’s skin.
He ran, feet pounding against gravel and broken stone — the only music in this nightmare.
Every step echoed in his skull like thunder.
Like a heartbeat.
Like Buck’s heartbeat.
He could feel the tears sticking to his skin, with only one thought in mind.
Buck was alone.
Alone and hurt.
He didn't have time to drown in his own thoughts, he had to get to Buck.
The walls were repeating the sounds of Eddie’s horror — footsteps pounding, shouts vibrating in his ears, and the yearning pushing him every step. The sound bouncing back at him from the ruined concrete, every echo twisting into Buck’s name.
The falling of his feet sounding like drumming throughout his body.
And with every beat pounding in his skull like a concert — crashing through his head, rattling his bones — he could hear it.
Bobby and Ravi.
Their footsteps fell in sync just behind him, close enough to feel.
They were pushing past their limits, racing against time before the clock strikes something irreversible.
“BUCK!”
Eddie’s voice cracked the air — filled with urgency, with raw drive and unfiltered need.
He dropped to his knees on the broken concrete, hands moving furiously, yanking at debris with no care for blood or splinters.
He used everything he had to get to him.
Bobby and Ravi were right there with him, no words, just movement — lifting, digging, throwing.
Beyond the ringing in his ears, he heard Bobby’s voice on the radio. “We are not alone!”
More help was coming.
But it didn’t feel like enough.
The rush hit him all at once — adrenaline, grief, yearning— a crashing wave he couldn’t outrun.
Tears slipped from his eyes, falling to the dry rubble below.
“ Please .”
The word was a broken prayer.
“ God, please.”
It caught in his throat, scraping its way out like glass.
But still —
He didn’t stop.
He couldn’t stop.
Not even if he tried.
He could hear the rocks and stones shifting — beneath the tires of rescue vehicles, under heavy equipment, and crunching under frantic boots.
As more people came to help — lifting up huge pieces of flooring, yelling orders, the trucks coming to help, and the sirens blaring.
More people poured in, shouting orders over the wail of sirens, lifting slabs of broken flooring, the trucks groaning as they rolled into place.
The world spun with noise — a dizzying storm commotion and sound at every corner.
They were digging, shoveling, clearing the wreckage piece by piece — forcing the crumbled building back with raw hands and determination.
That's when he saw it.
Buck.
“I FOUND HIM!” Left his mouth faster than he could think.
Eddie’s determination grew stronger.
The words tore from Eddie’s mouth before he could think, bursting out like breath after drowning.
His focus narrowed, burning.
He clawed at the debris, shoving slabs of concrete, twisted metal, whatever he could, off Buck’s body — as if pure desperation could keep death at bay.
“It'll be okay, kid!” Bobby dropped beside him, voice rough but steady, scooping away dirt and stone with shaking hands.
Bobby needed Buck to know he would be okay.
That everything would be fine.
Chim arrived in the chaos, tears streaming, mouth tight, hands trembling as he dug in beside them.
Hen was already waving the ambulance through.
Ravi sprinted for the equipment, boots skidding across shattered ground.
And then — The rain came.
Hard.
Unforgiving.
It slammed against the earth like judgment, drumming on the twisted wreckage, soaking through uniforms and skin and bone.
It mixed with their sweat.
With the blood.
With the tears.
And still — they kept digging.
As if the rain could baptize the moment.
As if it could wash away the fear clinging to Eddie’s ribs.
They had him.
He slid his arms under Buck’s knees and back, lifting him up — bridal style — cradling him like something precious and breakable. Buck's head lolled slightly against Eddie’s chest, and for one terrifying second, he didn’t move.
“It’s okay, Buck! We’ve got you!” His voice was cracking, frantic, barely holding together — but he didn’t stop.
Rain poured down in sheets, soaking them both. Buck’s blood mingled with the water, trailing down Eddie’s arms, disappearing into the storm.
He ran.
Boots slamming through puddles, water splashing high with every desperate stride. The storm didn't let up. The world was a blur of rain and red lights.
Eddie didn’t care.
“It's okay.” His voice is softer now, like his voice could hold him.
He reached the ambulance, lifted Buck onto the stretcher with trembling hands. The medics were already moving, springing into action the second Eddie stepped in. Someone reached to take Buck from his arms, but Eddie didn’t let go — not right away.
They swarmed in — voices sharp, hands fast, metal snapping and monitors beeping.
Eddie dropped onto the bench, soaked and shaking, eyes locked on Buck.
He reached for his hand and gripped it like a lifeline, like letting go would undo everything they’d just fought for.
His big brown eyes were wide — wild — filled with something he couldn’t name. Tears still fell, steady and silent, dripping onto his uniform, lost in the stormwater clinging to his skin.
Eddie stared at Buck like he was his life line.
His grip only growing as he heard the paramedics in the background.
“BP’s dropping!”
“Pulse is weak — but it’s there!”
“Get the oxygen on him!”
“Chest compression kit, now!”
His thumb brushed over Buck’s knuckles, over dirt and blood and bruises, as if that touch alone could anchor him.
His big brown eyes were blown wide, chest heaving, face streaked with tears and rain and something too raw to name.
“Come on Buck.” he whispered, voice cracking. “Mi Vida… Come back.”
“ Please. ” He was practically begging the earth with his desire.
And then —
a breath.
Small. Strained.
But unmistakable.
Real.
Eddie froze.
All at once, the world snapped into focus. Eddie surged forward.
The world didn’t stop moving — the paramedics kept working — but to Eddie, that sound was everything.
Hope.
Fragile. Shaky. Alive.
A medic quickly adjusted the oxygen mask, checking vitals again. “He’s stabilizing. We’ve got him. We’ve got him.”
He just held Buck’s hand tighter, forehead pressed to the edge of the stretcher, as the ambulance roared into motion — carrying them through the rain.
The ambulance screeched to a halt, brakes shrieking against wet asphalt.
Before it fully stopped, the doors flew open — and the chaos moved with them.
“We’ve got a male, mid-30s, firefighter, partial building collapse, blunt trauma, low BP, shallow breaths!”
“Possible internal bleeding—he’s fading!”
They pushed the stretcher out fast, wheels slamming over the slick pavement, water spraying with every rotation. The medics shouted vitals and stats into the noise, but Eddie wasn’t listening.
He was running beside them, soaked and breathless, never letting go of Buck’s hand until the doors of the hospital flew open to swallow them whole.
Realising that no matter how much he soaked his skin, he would he unable to penetrate the reminder that made something twist tight in between Eddie’s shoulder blades.
Why is it still raining?
I did what I was supposed to.
It's not fair.
The ER team was already waiting — a sea of scrubs and sharp voices, the smell of antiseptic mixing with the scent of rain and blood.
“Move him now!”
“Prep OR Three — surgical team on standby!”
Eddie’s hand was torn from Buck’s as they veered toward the trauma bay.
Eddie was trying to follow, but a nurse gently stepped in his path, arms out.
“Sir. You have to let them work.”
He froze in place, chest heaving.
Buck’s stretcher turned a corner.
For a second — just a second — Eddie saw his face through the gaps in the crowd. Pale. Still. Oxygen mask pressed to his mouth.
And then he was gone.
Behind swinging doors.
Pulled into bright lights and sterile rooms and surgery.
Eddie stood there shaking, hands bloodied and empty, staring at the space where Buck had just been.
“Mr. Diaz,” the nurse said softly, already guiding him toward the waiting room, “They’re doing everything they can.”
But Eddie didn’t move right away.
Because his heart had already gone through those doors with Buck.
“ He’ll be okay. ”
The voice cut through the noise — quiet but steady.
Eddie turned, and there was Bobby.
The rest of the team stood close behind him, all of them soaked through, faces pale, uniforms streaked with ash and rain. They were silent, but their presence said everything.
“Let’s go sit down, alright?” Hen stepped forward, reaching instinctively for Eddie’s wrist — but stopped herself halfway.
She let her hand fall.
She knew.
He wasn’t ready to be touched.
Not yet.
Eddie gave a small nod, barely noticeable, and turned toward the waiting room benches. He sat heavily, as if gravity had finally caught up to him. The others followed, wordless.
The rain hammered against the hospital windows now, muffled and relentless.
For a long moment, Eddie couldn’t see anything but the floor.
Couldn’t hear anything but the echo of everything on loop
The image of him — limp and bloodied in his arms — wouldn’t let go.
But slowly, as his breathing steadied, he looked up — Really looked.
Hen and Ravi sat close, murmuring to each other, hands brushing in silent comfort. Ravi's eyes were red, Hen’s voice low and soothing, like she was keeping both of them afloat.
Chimney paced restlessly near the door, phone to his ear. He was on the line with Maddie — and every word he spoke chipped away at him. His voice cracked once, then twice, but he didn’t stop.
Bobby crossed the room again and sat down beside Eddie.
No words at first. Just a quiet presence. The kind that didn’t ask for anything.
Then, softly “ You did everything you could, Eddie. And so did he .”
Eddie didn't answer.
His jaw clenched, and his eyes stayed locked on the double doors Buck had disappeared behind.
“He’s still fighting,” Bobby added. “ Just like he always does. ”
Eddie’s hands flexed, knuckles white as he gripped his knees. “He shouldn’t have had to.”
Silence settled again — not empty, but thick with everything they couldn’t say out loud.
They were all waiting
Not just for news.
But for Buck.
As the night stretched on, more people poured in — quiet footsteps on sterile tile, eyes wide with worry.
Maddie arrived first, face pale, tear-streaked, clutching a tissue in one hand and Chimney in the other the second he finally sat still.
Karen came next, her arms wrapping tightly around Hen, grounding her without a word.
Then Athena — calm on the outside, but Eddie could see it in her eyes: she wasn’t here as a cop. She was here as family.
The kids were safe — May had taken them for the night. Christopher, Denny, Jee. Out of the storm. Out of the unknown. That knowledge was the only thing keeping Eddie upright.
The hospital lights were too bright.
The air too clean.
The hours too slow.
The team sat, stood, paced — drifting in and out of silence and soft-spoken reassurances that didn’t carry much weight.
The night dragged on, long and bruising, stretching into a version of time that didn’t feel real.
And then—
The double doors swung open with a heavy whoosh that snapped everyone to attention.
A nurse stepped into the waiting room, clipboard clutched to her chest.
Everyone rose at once.
Eddie’s heart jumped into his throat.
The nurse looked up, scanning the group. Her voice was calm, but every syllable hit like a lightning strike.
“He’s out of surgery.”
A collective breath was held — and didn’t release.
“He’s stable. Still unconscious, but holding. He’ll be moved to recovery shortly. One or two of you can go in when he’s settled.”
For a moment, no one moved.
No one knew what to say.
Then Eddie exhaled — not fully — but enough to feel like he was breathing again.
The world felt muffled.
Voices blurred behind him as the nurse led Eddie down the hallway. His boots squeaked softly against the linoleum, each step heavier than the last.
He hadn’t asked who should go first.
No one did.
They all just looked at him — and that was answer enough.
The door to Buck’s room slid open with a soft hiss.
Monitors beeped steadily. The lights were low. The air smelled like antiseptic and something sterile and sharp. But none of it mattered.
Because there he was.
Buck.
Still. Pale. Tubes and lines trailing from his arms like tangled roots. Oxygen hissing gently through a mask. His chest rose and fell with a rhythm that was too shallow, too slow — but it was there.
Eddie stood in the doorway for a moment, unable to move. He didn’t realize he was crying again until a tear slipped off his chin and landed on his knuckle.
Finally, he stepped forward, dragging the chair close and sitting down beside the bed.
“Hey,” he whispered, his voice catching like it had splintered somewhere in his throat.
He reached out, fingers wrapping around Buck’s hand — bruised, IV-strung, but warm.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he said softly, thumb brushing over the back of Buck’s knuckles. “You always do, but… this time was different.”
The silence in the room was too heavy. Not the bad kind. The sacred kind.
Eddie looked at him — really looked — and saw the fight still lingering on his face, even in sleep.
“You held on.” His voice cracked. “I knew you would.”
Another pause.
“I carried you all the way to that ambulance like some ridiculous scene out of a movie. You would’ve made a joke if you were awake. Said something about my form or my grip or—”
His voice broke completely.
He pressed their joined hands to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut.
“Please wake up soon. Just—wake up.”
Behind him, the machines kept on. Steady. Gentle.
Alive.
“Chris is with May,” He wanted to distract himself, tell Buck something he would like. “Ill bring him tomorrow."
His tears slowed slowly.
The hours stretched on.
Buck didn’t wake, but his vitals held steady — soft beeps pulsing like the room’s quiet heartbeat.
One by one, the others took their turns.
Hen came in first, her voice low as she leaned over him, brushing her fingers gently along the edge of his hairline.
“You stubborn idiot,” she whispered, smiling through tears. “We’re not doing this again. You hear me?”
Karen waited just outside the door, but Eddie saw the way Hen leaned into her arms the second she stepped out — both of them bracing against the weight of relief.
Ravi followed, nervous at first, uncertain. But once inside, he stood silently for a long time, just watching Buck breathe. Then he mumbled something like “thanks for pulling me out that day,” and slipped out quickly after.
Chim came in with Maddie. He was trying to be strong, but when he saw Buck, something inside him cracked open. Maddie pressed a shaking kiss to Buck’s forehead and held his hand for a long time, not saying much at all.
Maddie didn’t let go of Chim’s arm until they stepped back out into the hallway.
Athena and Bobby came in together, their steps slow and quiet. Bobby rested a hand on Buck’s shoulder, prayer beads in his other hand, his eyes shining.
“You came back,” he murmured. “Good. We still need you.”
Athena stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed — but her face was soft, protective. “Next time you want to play hero,” she said gently, “you better clear it with me first.”
A faint laugh escaped Bobby, but it didn’t last long.
Eventually, one by one, they began to leave.
Karen needed to check on the kids. Hen went with her. Ravi offered to help. Chim and Maddie lingered longest — but eventually, Chim's exhaustion got the better of him, and Maddie nudged him gently toward the exit with the promise that she’d stay a little longer.
And then it was just her and Eddie.
They both went into the room again.
The room was dim again. The lights above the bed glowed softly, casting Buck in a circle of pale warmth.
Eddie sat in the same chair, unmoving. Maddie took the one across from him, a quiet mirror.
They didn’t speak for a while.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like a ceremony. Like prayer.
Finally, Maddie’s voice broke the hush. “Do you know what he said to me? The day he met you?”
Eddie looked up, eyes glassy.
“He said, ‘There’s this guy on my team. Drives me nuts. But I think he might actually get me.’”
She smiled, lips trembling. “I think he meant that more than he realized.”
Eddie let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “He gets me , too.”
The beeping continued. Soft. Alive.
Maddie reached for Buck’s hand and held it on one side. Eddie still held the other.
And between them, Buck slept — held steady by love, grief, and the sheer force of two people who refused to leave.
The night bled into morning.
The storm outside had quieted hours ago. Rain still tapped gently at the windows, softer now, more like a lullaby than a warning.
Inside the room, the world had shrunk to the rhythmic beep of the monitors and the occasional hush of nurses moving down the hallway. The fluorescent lights had dimmed, leaving the room painted in soft gray and gold — the kind of light that only existed before sunrise.
Maddie stirred first.
Her eyes were puffy, her hair tousled, her expression calm in that tired, fragile way only family knew how to wear.
She looked over at Eddie, still in the chair beside Buck, hand never once letting go.
“You should try to rest,” she whispered.
Eddie shook his head, gaze fixed on Buck. “I can’t. Not yet.”
Maddie stood slowly, joints cracking from too many hours in one place. She leaned down, pressed a kiss to Buck’s temple, and then smoothed his hair back gently.
“I need to go check on Jee,” she said softly, her voice hoarse. She turned to Buck and whispered lightly. “Ill be back, I promise.”
Eddie nodded.
She touched his shoulder on the way out — brief but full of meaning. “He’s going to be okay, Eddie.”
“I know.” His voice was full of determination. He knew Buck was a fighter.
When the door clicked shut behind her, the silence returned.
Eddie leaned forward again, elbows on his knees, Buck’s hand still wrapped tightly in his own.
Outside, the sun had begun to rise — pale pink and soft orange streaking through the hospital blinds, casting long, warm lines across the white sheets.
He needed him to wake up.
He needed to hear his voice again.
The facts he would tell at the worst moments, him talking to Chris like he was his own.
The look in his eyes.
Soft, smooth, and precious.
He let his eyes go heavy for a moment. Closing them for just a few seconds.
Eddie's eyes bursted open again, the energy coming back to him.
There was a shift.
So subtle at first, Eddie almost missed it.
But then Buck’s fingers moved.
Just a twitch. Then again — stronger this time.
Eddie straightened instantly. “Buck?”
A soft groan escaped Buck’s lips, muffled by the oxygen mask.
His eyes fluttered.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie sprang to his feet, hands moving instinctively as he searched Buck’s body. “Does anywhere hurt?” His voice was frantic, sharp with worry.
Buck’s eyes fluttered open halfway — unfocused, clouded with confusion.
“Eddie…” His voice trembled, raw with desperation.
“Buck…” Eddie’s voice broke, heavy and full. It was like Buck was the only thing keeping him afloat, the last anchor in a stormy sea.
This was echoing their song.
“You scared the living shit out of me,” Eddie said, voice low, but not without feeling. His hand found Buck’s again, gripping it with more than just reassurance — with need. “Don’t you ever do that shit again.”
The words were serious, but there was a glimmer of laughter beneath them. A thread of relief holding him together.
“I promise,” Buck rasped.
Eddie’s thumb brushed lightly over Buck’s knuckles.
“You held on,” he whispered, barely audible. “I knew you would.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Buck said, squeezing his hand in return. His blue eyes searched Eddie’s face — the kind of gaze that tried to peel back layers. He didn’t know what he saw exactly, not yet. But it was something.
Something heavy. Something warm.
“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, “me too.”
He took another slow look at Eddie, worry still knitted into the corners of his brow. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Eddie said with a soft chuckle, though his voice was hoarse. “Just tired.”
Buck’s eyes flicked to the dark circles beneath Eddie’s. He frowned, then gave a tired smile. With a slight shift, he patted the space beside him on the hospital bed.
Eddie raised a brow.
“What?” Buck said innocently. “Lie down.”
“You’re hurt,” Eddie protested, hesitating.
“I’ll tell you if you hurt me.”
“No you won’t.”
“You’re right,” Buck admitted with a huff of a laugh. “But you look like hell. So do this for me. I’m the one injured here — that means you have to do what I say.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in the smallest smile. Carefully, he climbed onto the bed, settling beside Buck. One arm tucked behind his head, the other rested lightly on Buck’s chest — just enough to feel the steady rise and fall beneath his palm.
Silence settled between them, warm and full.
Eddie’s breathing began to slow, his body relaxing for the first time in what felt like days.
Buck glanced down at him, feeling the weight of Eddie’s presence, the solid warmth against his side.
And then — He understood the look Eddie had been giving him.
Not just worry.
Not just relief.
Something deeper than that.
Yearning.
Affection.
Care.
Love.
And if he was wrong about that, then death would be painless.
As Eddie drifted off, curled close to him, Buck looked up at the ceiling — at the pale light of morning filtering through the blinds — and whispered:
“I’m coming, wait for me.” Buck muttered quietly.
Just like Eddie had.
And like Buck had waited.