Chapter Text
The sight that met him stopped him cold.
This wasn’t right, he thought while sternly keeping his eyes trained on the tiles of the floor. That simply wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.
The church was drowning in black, only occasionally broken by the glinting silver applications on countless uniforms. Rows upon rows were filled with people, but even the quiet murmurs of the crowd couldn’t touch the suffocating silence that clung to the stone walls.
And at the center of the altar stood a blue and white painted coffin. Smaller than a coffin should have been, with the lid closed. It would never be opened again.
Christopher Diaz.
The name name glinted on the brass plate, a cruel, final confirmation that this nightmare was real. Eddie’s knees nearly buckled at the sight. His hands shook, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to stand tall.
Breathe, goddamnit, Eddie tried to remind himself while he knew that that was the last thing he wanted to do in this moment.
He had been a soldier. A firefighter. He was shot by more bullets than he could remember, walked through flames, and lost his fare share of people dear to him.
But nothing had prepared him for this—burying his son. A father wasn't supposed to bury his son. Christopher should've been able to live his life to the fullest, finish the high school and get into a college, make friends and find a partner. He was supposed to be standing at Eddie's side, laughing up at him while they would by ice cream...
Eddie's eyes focused again, and for the first time this morning, really got aware of his surroundings. He saw the whole 118, Athena, Maddie, Carla, his parents, friends and classmates of Chris...
Behind him, Buck stood at the back of the church like a ghost. Pale, trembling, as though he might vanish if anyone looked at him too closely. He had dressed in black, like everyone here, but no color could mask the raw grief etched into his face.
The look on his face was what made Eddie's gut boil with rage. He didn’t belong here. Not in Eddie’s mind, not anymore. Buck had lost Christopher. And nothing in the world would bring him back.
And yet Buck stayed, watching from the shadows. Because no matter how much Eddie hated him now, Buck couldn’t let go.
The priest’s words blurred into static. Eddie stared at the casket and memories flooded his mind—Christopher’s laugh when they went to the beach, his stubborn voice, bed time
stories about heroes fighting for their cities and making smore's in the kitchen.
He should have been there. That mantra looped through Eddie’s head, a curse he couldn’t silence. He should’ve been at the pier, holding Christopher’s hand, protecting him when the wave came. He should’ve died before letting this happen...
When it came time to say goodbye, Eddie moved forward on autopilot. How he managed the walk without falling was a miracle to him. But then he stood infront of his son's casket, a palm firmly pressed to the cool wood.
“Te quiero, mijo. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
A sob tore through the quiet. At first Eddie thought it came from behind him, from one of the mourners tucked into the pews. But no—the sound had come from his own chest. His knees finally gave up under him, knees hitting the floor while his fingers pressed against the casket’s edge.
He didn’t even realize someone had come up behind him until a steady hand landed on his shoulder.
“Eddie,” Bobby murmured softly, trying to keep his voice steady, “come on, son. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Eddie’s body went rigid for a heartbeat, and then the façade cracked. All the tight control, all the stone-faced composure he’d been clinging to for weeks, shattered like glass. His face crumpled. Another sob tore free, louder this time, echoing through the church like a wound exposed to air.
Bobby wrapped his arms around him, pulling him gently up and away from the casket. Eddie resisted at first, fingers digging deeper into the wood as if he could claw Christopher back by sheer force, but eventually Bobby pried him loose. Eddie folded into his captain's chest, the tears hot and unstoppable now, his breath coming in shuddering gasps.
“I love you, Chris” he whispered one last time to his son, the words cracked and splintered. “I’m so sorry.”
Bobby’s hand tightened on his shoulder, steering him gently toward the aisle. Eddie let himself be led for once, hollow and shaking, but his gaze—brief, involuntary—slid toward the back of the church.
There was Buck.
Eddie’s chest constricted violently. He couldn’t turn fully, couldn’t look for more than a second. Not when every glimpse of Buck felt like staring directly into the sun. Not when Buck’s face—those eyes, those dimples—echoed Christopher so painfully that Eddie’s heart caved in just to see him.
For a split second, rage burned hot in Eddie’s throat. A familiar feeling. He wanted to scream at him.
This is all your fault. You're the reason my son is dead, Evan.
He wanted to pour all of his pain into the man standing there, pale and broken, like it would somehow make the hurt lighter.
But Eddie couldn’t.
Because deep down, under the rubble of his grief, Eddie knew the truth. He knew Buck had fought like hell. Knew he’d nearly died trying to save Christopher.
But knowing wasn’t forgiveness.
And forgiveness felt impossibly far away.
Buck couldn’t breathe in the church.
Every word from the priest felt aimed at him, a verdict, a punishment. Every glance was an accusation. You failed him. You failed Eddie.
He had promised to protect Christopher. Promised Eddie, promised himself. But when the tsunami came, chaos ripped that promise out of his hands. He had pulled strangers from the water, carried children to safety, nearly drowned himself—but when another wave hit, Christopher was gone.
And Buck had kept searching. For hours, until his body gave out and Bobby and Chim had to haul him onto a stretcher. And even then, he never lost hope. Christopher was strong, he would come back to them and Buck would cook him everything he wanted.
But then, they found Chris. Well, parts of him.
No one of the 118 would ever forget the view, despite their years of professional experience.
Now, there they were, with Buck standing like a criminal at the back of the room, trying to disappear into the wood.
He knew, he didn’t deserve to mourn. Didn’t deserve to breathe.
He bit his lip so hard it bled, trying to swallow the sob clawing up his throat, while watching Bobby help Eddie up.
I would’ve traded places with Christopher without hesitation. I would’ve given my life gladly, were the only thoughts in Buck's mind during the rest of the funeral.
Eddie had stopped coming to work weeks ago —after Bobby nearly fired him for bringing himself and the team into life threatening danger. Again.
Eddie hadn't argued that time. He just couldn’t. And if he was being honest, he didn't care anymore.
So now, without nothing to do, his nights were filled with bottles and TV; his days, with punching bags and bloodied knuckles. A wall in his house also got it bad after Eddie beat through it with his baseball bat. And nobody had been there to stop him.
Not to say the others didn’t try.
Chimney, Hen, and Bobby showed up like clockwork, leaving bags of food at Eddie’s door and knocking softly. But Eddie never let them in. Not once. He’d stand behind the door, fists clenched, breathing hard, waiting until he heard their footsteps retreat before he even moved. The thought of sitting across from them, of seeing the pity in their eyes, was unbearable.
And Buck… Buck had tried harder than all of them.
He had knocked until his knuckles bled, left voicemails and sent texts at three in the morning. He pleaded, desperate for Eddie to open the door, desperate to talk to him, to find some way back through the wall of silence.
They had been a family—a real family. Buck had been making breakfast in Eddie’s kitchen while Christopher grinned at the two of them across the table. Movie nights tangled together on the couch. Buck’s hand brushing Eddie’s in the dark, a silent promise of something that felt like forever. Eddie had thought they’d found it—stability, home, love.
And then the wave came. And then it was gone.
“Eddie,” one message had read, “please. I’m sorry. I love you. Please just… please.”
But every attempt was met with silence or fury. Until one night Eddie had snapped, his voice raw and shaking as he stood in the doorway infront of Buck.
“Get out. I can’t even look at you without seeing him.”
The words had the intended effect. Buck had flinched, like he’d been struck, and then nodded, tears streaking his face.
“I’ll go."
And he had.
Maddie was up immediately after Buck's call, already waiting for him when he showed up at her apartment that night, eyes wide with worry as he stood in the doorway. She didn’t ask anymore questions at first. She just opened her arms.
“Come. You can stay here as long as you need.”
“I won’t be long,” Buck had murmured, though his voice held no conviction. “I just… I can’t stay there anymore.”
“I know,” Maddie whispered. She touched his cheek, eyes shining. “You don’t have to explain.”
So Buck dragged himself inside and moved into her living room.
He was in a bad state.
Maddie had to try and coax him into eating, into sleeping, into talking. Most nights, she’d find him awake at three a.m., staring at nothing. She’d sit on the edge of the couch and say, “Evan, please. Talk to me.” But he would just shake his head.
When she went to bed, he stayed awake. Sitting on the floor near the big window, the city buzzing far below him, headlights streaking through the night. The cool air from the open window pressed against his skin, but it did nothing to ease the fire in his chest.
On his lap sat his phone. The screen glowed softly in the dark, Eddie’s name at the top of a blank text message. Beneath his thumb, the cursor blinked. Waiting.
He typed the words again, the same ones he’d written and deleted a hundred time:
Eddie,
I’m sorry.
I should’ve saved him. I should’ve held on tighter. I don’t know how to live with what I did to you....
You remember when you told me you couldn't even look at me without seeing him.
I can’t either.
So, I'm making it easier for everyone. Should've done this weeks ago honestly.
I love you. I’ll always love you.
I know you can't, but i want to ask that you forgive me. Sometime.
Yours, Buck
His thumb hovered over “Send.” He stared at the words until they blurred. Then, with a sharp breath, he hit “Delete.” The screen went blank again.
He couldn’t do that to Eddie. He couldn’t force him to read a goodbye. Not after everything.
Buck reached for the bottle of pills sitting beside him. He turned it over in his hand, the rattling sound filling the silence like bones.
“This will be easier,” he whispered into the night. His voice cracked on the words. “You won’t have to see me anymore, Eddie. You won’t have to remember.”
His eyes stung. He tilted his head back, staring at the stars. Hey, buddy, he thought, as if Christopher might be up there somewhere listening. I’m coming. I’m so sorry I failed you. You were one of the best parts of me. You were the best part of us.
A sob tore out of him, but he swallowed it down, pressing the bottle to his chest. He had imagined this moment so many times, but he thought it would feel like peace. Instead it felt like drowning. And right now, sitting alone on the cold floor in Maddie's appartment, he realized something terrifying:
He didn’t actually want to die.
He just didn’t know how to live anymore.