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“I said I was gonna get the groceries.”
Eddie stood in the kitchen when Buck walked in with two bags of groceries. It had been a few weeks since Eddie had moved back to LA after being in El Paso for six months. The only reason Eddie had even moved back was because Cap–Bobby–had died. He had died, and Eddie wasn’t there to help out. Eddie knew it was supposed to be him. It was supposed to be him getting sick and dying in that lab, not Bobby. It would’ve been easier for everybody.
“Well, I was out–It’s fine.”
Buck continued to put the groceries in their places. Buck and Eddie had preferences for where they wanted the food: avocados on the kitchen counter and the cereals in the cabinets over the counter, the milk and the orange juice in the fridge, and the bread on the counter beside the oven.
“It doesn’t feel like it’s fine.”
The air between the two men was thick, like ice, like something you could cut and slice up and serve for eight people to eat. The air was delicate, both men afraid to say something that might upset the other one, like a ticking bomb waiting to explode into something bigger and unleash hell inside the kitchen.
Eddie grabbed the white coffee cup from one of the cabinets over the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. He knew it was late and that coffee four or five hours before bed would affect him tomorrow and affect the way he would sleep on the couch tonight.
“I heard you finally got the call for El Paso Fire–”
Eddie could hear the tiny crack in Buck’s voice. He could hear it break in ways it only did when Buck felt emotions deeply. Buck was usually a steady talker, but when he let his emotions catch him, his voice broke easier, and his eyes reflected his feelings.
“ – Congratulations.”
Buck looked at Eddie, who was standing in front of him. Eddie took a sip of his coffee, and Buck could see the way the other man was trying to find the right words to say. Everything was so delicate, and they were both afraid to set something off.
“Who told you?”
“Let’s see–Hen told Chimney that she wanted to throw you a surprise barbecue. Chimney told Ravi, and Ravi called me because he wanted to know if he should bring a gift.”
Buck continued to pack up the groceries and put them in their specific places while Eddie tried once again to find the right words to tell Buck. It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t want to tell Buck about the job offer; he just wanted to figure out how and when. Eddie knew Buck had a past of abandonment. Eddie wasn’t trying to add to that–again.
“I was going to tell you–”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
Eddie could see the hurt in Buck’s expression when he talked, when the fear started creeping up on Buck. How Buck quickly built those walls up to defend himself when really it was just the fear of being left again.
“No–instead everybody has been… tiptoeing behind my back because apparently I’m too fragile to accept the truth–”
Eddie walked around the kitchen counter with his cup of coffee still in his hand so he was now facing Buck in a parallel line across the room.
“Can you blame us? Look how you’re acting now.”
“You really think I wouldn’t be happy for you–”
A shift in Eddie’s tone happened; his voice came out a bit rougher than he had planned.
“No–I know you wouldn’t be. You make it all about you. The Trials and Tribulations of Evan Buckley,” Eddie gestured with his hand, “a tragedy in 97 acts.”
Eddie walked around the kitchen island and over to Buck, who was standing with a confused and somewhat hurt expression on his face.
“You’ve been spiraling since the funeral, and nobody knows how to talk to you about it.”
“Sorry I’m sad Bobby’s dead.”
Eddie grabbed Buck by the shoulder. The two men could see the hurt in each other’s eyes.
“You’re not the only one,” Eddie’s voice broke for the first time in the conversation, “who lost him. We all lost him.”
Eddie walked over to the kitchen island again and had to grab it to hold on. He felt the panic attack coming back. It had been years since it happened last time; the guilt and shame of not being there–not being in the lab with the rest of the 118–drove Eddie into a panic state of mind.
“We’re all just trying to do our damn best to get through it.”
The tone in Eddie’s voice sent Buck flashbacks from years ago—back to that day in the grocery store during the lawsuit when Buck had sued the city for the right to get his job back.
“We all have our own problems, but you don’t see us whining about it. We just suck it up. Why can’t you?”
Eddie’s voice, trying to find his words and the ability to speak again, brought Buck out of the flashback he was having.
“Yeah, I know–”
“Really? Because you never asked what it was like–waking up in the middle of the night to that news.”
The clock was nearing midnight in El Paso. Eddie had driven people around all day and all night being an Uber driver. This was how he spent his days while Christopher was at school and while he waited for El Paso Fire to call and say that they had an opening for him—that he could start that Monday.
The phone rang. Eddie picked it up after the second buzz went off. He took a quick look at the clock; it was after midnight. He saw Karen’s name on the screen. It would’ve been around seven p.m. in LA, so it wasn’t weird–she probably forgot about the time zones. Eddie answered just to be safe.
“Eddie,” Eddie could hear Karen’s voice breaking. Oh no… “there was an accident in a lab. The 118 was out on a call, and the lab exploded, and Chim and Bobby got exposed to this virus mutation. Eddie–Bobby is dead.”
The world went quiet. The world went blurry. Not Bobby. Not his captain. This wasn’t happening. This could not be true. This was just a sick joke they were playing to get Eddie to come home sooner.
“Eddie–are you still there?”
“Yeah–yeah, Karen, I’m here.”
Eddie ended the call, and he didn’t know what to do or how to handle this news. Bobby, the man who saved his life, was gone, and Eddie hadn’t been there.
Eddie had to sit on the floor. He didn’t know how–didn’t know what to do or say. Eddie couldn’t let himself break down. He couldn’t let the same thing happen again like it did years ago when he had trashed his whole room and scared the crap out of his son. He couldn’t do that again.
Eddie just sat on the floor alone, in the darkness, with only himself and his feelings. The darkness around him and the darkness inside him surrounding him.
How was he going to explain this to Chris? How was Eddie going to wake Chris up in the morning, see his happy face, and then break his heart by telling him that Bobby had died?
“Trying to keep it together–so I don’t scare the crap out of my kid–and when he woke up, I had to tell him that another person he loved was dead.”
“Good morning, Dad.”
Eddie could hear Chris walking down the hallway, his steps soft but steady, then crossing the living room floor. Christopher pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down across from Eddie, studying him with those gentle eyes that always saw too much.
“Have you been crying, Dad?”
Eddie wasn’t ready for this conversation. He wasn’t ready to tell Chris about the call he’d gotten last night–the call that the man who had saved his life, who had taken him under his wing, was now gone. Dead. Stolen from all of them.
“Yes, Christopher… I was up crying all night.”
“Was it something I did?”
Eddie felt like he’d been hit by a sniper–again. How could his son still be this pure, this good, after everything life had already thrown at him? Chris was growing up, becoming a teenager, but Eddie still wanted to shield him from every ugly thing in the world. From every loss.
“No–no, Chris.” Eddie took his son’s hands and squeezed them three times. Their signal. I love you.
“It’s about Bobby.”
“Did Bobby want us to come home? I’ll start packing right away–”
A small, broken sob escaped Eddie’s throat before he could swallow it down. His kid looked so hopeful. Christopher thought Bobby had called to ask them both to come home… and Eddie was about to shatter that hope beyond repair.
“I’m going back to LA in two weeks,” Eddie said quietly. “Aunt Karen called after midnight.” His eyes began to sting again as the memory slammed into him.
“There was an accident in a lab. The 118 was out on a call, and the lab exploded. Chim and Bobby got exposed to this virus mutation. Eddie–Bobby is dead.”
“Chris… there was–there was…” Eddie’s voice wavered as more tears gathered, blurring his vision until he could barely see his son’s face.
“It’s okay, Dad. Deep breaths. You got this.”
Eddie closed his eyes for a second, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt like it was caving in.
“There was an accident. The 118 was called to a lab–” he tried again, voice shaking. “The lab was containing a deadly mutated virus, and an explosion happened. Chimney and Bobby got exposed… but–Bobby gave the only dose to Chimney.”
Eddie wiped the tears from his cheek with the heel of his hand. When he looked at Chris, he could see it–the moment the pieces clicked. The way his expression crumpled, just slightly. The way the light in his eyes flickered.
Chris understood.
He understood that another person he loved had died.
“Oh–”
Buck hadn’t thought about it. How Eddie had forced himself to keep it together for Chris. Buck knew Eddie, and he knew that Eddie always put Christopher first. Buck could picture it clearly–Eddie telling Christopher that Bobby was dead. How Eddie probably wanted to scream and cry but instead kept it together and pushed his feelings down, just like he had been taught to do when he was younger.
“I’m sorry–”
Buck could see Eddie trying not to cry, could see the way he tried to bury the emotions. Eddie hung his head low for a few seconds, like he always did when he was trying to keep it together.
“I know he was important to you too–”
Eddie lifted his head and stared at the door that led to the backyard, refusing to look at Buck. He couldn’t. If Eddie met Buck’s eyes, he would break on the spot.
“He saved my life… and I wasn’t there to save his.”
Eddie tried to catch his breath; he was so wound up in emotions now. The air was even thicker and more delicate than earlier.
Two men in the middle of a kitchen floor, bleeding out and screaming for each other to see the other one.
“And a part of me will always wonder–if I was there–could I have made a difference?”
“You don’t–you don’t think I didn’t do everything I could to save him?”
Eddie looked at Buck quickly. Buck could see the deep hurt and regret in Eddie’s eyes; he had always believed the key to Eddie’s soul was those brown eyes—like two windows into everything inside him. Every feeling, every emotion, every spark showed in Eddie’s eyes.
“I don’t know, Buck– I wasn’t there.”
Eddie walked out of the kitchen, leaving Buck standing there alone. Buck was out of words. He knew Eddie was drowning in regret, he knew Eddie was already suffering–but this just confirmed it even more.
Buck couldn’t wrap his head around it. His mind was already trying to come up with some sort of way to help Eddie, to cheer him up.
But this time–this time Buck didn’t know how, because the one person Eddie needed right now was Bobby. And Bobby was dead and not coming back.
That night, Eddie slept on the couch as planned, and Buck took the bed. The two men lay awake in different rooms, thinking about the events from this evening.
It was a quarter after midnight in the Buckley-Diaz residence. The air still felt tense, thick with the remnants of the fight earlier that evening. Eddie and Buck had gone to bed without saying goodnight – something so rare it felt wrong all on its own, like a crack running straight through the foundation of their home. Hours had passed since the argument in the kitchen, but the coldness that had seeped into the house lingered, clinging to the walls, to Eddie’s skin, to his chest.
Christopher had gotten two separate goodnights – the kind of thing that used to only happen during their worst days – and then Buck had shut himself in the bedroom without looking back. Eddie had taken the couch, arranging the blankets with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
He woke around midnight. His phone screen glowed when he checked the time before placing it on the coffee table. His alarm was set for early morning – a flight to El Paso with Chris, because running home felt easier than staying in the ruins he’d created here.
When Eddie set his phone down, he saw it – a shadow on the far side of the room.
At first, he thought it was Buck. Maybe Buck had come out to apologize, or to ask Eddie to. Maybe they’d fall into each other the way they always used to when things hurt too much.
But no. The shadow was too still. Too quiet.
It stepped closer. Slowly. Purposefully. Coming out of the kitchen, crossing into the living room like it belonged there.
Eddie tried to scream, but his voice stayed trapped in his throat.
The weak light from the lamppost outside slipped through the curtains, carving a faint path across the floor. And when the figure stepped into it, Eddie’s heart stopped.
Bobby.
No. Not possible. Not real.
Bobby was dead. He’d been gone for two weeks. Eddie had stood graveside, had carried the weight of Bobby’s coffin because he needed one last chance to hold his captain up. He’d helped load it onto the fire engine, had watched the rig drive away while the 118 followed behind like mourners at the world’s cruelest parade.
And yet… Bobby was here.
“Bobby–how?”
Eddie’s voice cracked, small and broken.
He didn’t believe in ghosts, didn’t believe in signs or supernatural whispers. His abuela used to talk about spirits, about the veil between worlds, but Eddie had always brushed it off as superstition.
But this… this was Bobby sitting on Eddie’s couch. Bobby’s eyes. Bobby’s posture. Bobby’s presence – steady and grounding even in death.
This wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a dream.
It was a haunting.
“Hey, Eddie.”
“No,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head. “No, you’re not real. You died. I know because I was the one carrying your coffin out of the church.”
“Eddie,” Bobby said softly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad you weren’t in the lab that day–”
“You should be.” Eddie’s voice came out sharp, ragged. “You should be furious. Because I didn’t save you.”
The tears hit fast, sudden, and overwhelming. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, chest aching. He was grateful Buck and Christopher were asleep, because if anyone saw him right now – crying into empty air, arguing with a ghost – they’d think he was losing his mind.
Maybe he was.
“Eddie,” Bobby said gently, “you had to do what was right. You needed to be in Texas with Christopher. You were fighting to protect your relationship with your son–”
“That’s not fair,” Eddie choked. “I should’ve been there. You saved my life, Bobby. And I wasn’t… I wasn’t there to save yours.”
Bobby moved closer – or whatever a ghost does when it wants to feel human – and wrapped phantom arms around Eddie. The touch wasn’t solid, not really, but the warmth was there. Familiar. Earth-shattering.
For a moment, Eddie let himself lean into it, let himself pretend none of this had ever happened.
“Eddie,” Bobby murmured, “I was relieved you weren’t in that lab. Maybe it would’ve made a difference. But maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybe you would’ve gotten sick too. And you have Christopher. You have Buck.”
“Buck…?” Eddie whispered.
Bobby nodded. “You didn’t see him in the lab, Eddie. You didn’t see the way he fell apart. He begged me not to go in. I don’t think he would’ve survived if it had been you.”
“Buck hates me,” Eddie said, wiping his face even as more tears spilled.
Bobby reached out and brushed a tear from Eddie’s cheek – gentle, fatherly, unbearably kind.
“Buck doesn’t hate you,” he said. “He loves you. So much more than you realize. You two just need to find your way home again.”
Bobby’s hands closed around Eddie’s, warm despite being impossible.
“I love you, son,” he said quietly. “I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed you weren’t there. I’m grateful. Because the kid I love – Buck, the son I chose – he needs you. And you… Eddie, you need to stop punishing yourself long enough to keep going.”
Eddie felt the pressure around his fingers fade. Bobby’s outline flickered, light bleeding through him.
“No–wait–” Eddie grabbed at him desperately, clinging to the fading shape. One last hug. One last chance to hold the man who had guided him, steadied him, believed in him. “Please don’t go.”
Bobby smiled, warm and proud and heartbreaking.
“You’re going to be okay.”
“I love you, Bobby,” Eddie whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.
And when he opened them, Bobby was gone.
The house was silent again, but Eddie felt wrung out, emptied, hollowed. He lay back on the couch, exhausted, grief burning through him like fever.
He knew tomorrow wouldn’t be better. Nothing would magically heal. The dark cloud hanging over everything would still be there.
But maybe – just maybe – there was a sliver of light now. A small, fragile promise that someday the darkness might break.
And Eddie held onto that as sleep finally pulled him under
Buck woke up in the middle of the night feeling like he’d been running. His heart hammered against his ribs, sweat sticking to his skin, breath sharp and uneven. He had no idea what he’d been dreaming about, no idea what had dragged him out of sleep like this. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and squinted at the screen. A little after 3 a.m.
Buck groaned. He had a twenty-four-hour shift tomorrow. And it was the last day before Eddie was leaving for Texas.
He turned over, hoping sleep would take him again–anything to quiet the pounding in his chest–but instead he froze.
There was a shadow sitting on the other side of the bed.
“Eddie–what are you doing?”
No answer.
Buck reached for the lamp and flicked it on.
And his breath left him completely.
Not Eddie.
Bobby.
Sitting there like he’d never left. Like he hadn’t died gasping for air in a lab Buck never made it out from.
“No–no, this isn’t happening. I’m dreaming.”
“Buck–”
Buck squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Once. Twice. A third time. His hands shook with how desperately he wanted this to stop.
“Buck–”
“No. You’re not real. This is just my mind playing tricks.”
He tried to lie back down, tried to force himself to sleep, because if he slept maybe the hallucination would disappear. Maybe he wouldn’t be tortured by the image of his dead father figure sitting beside him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to live through this again.
“I love you, kid–”
Buck flinched like he’d been stabbed.
“Stop. Don’t–don’t do this again. I can’t. I can’t have you say that and then…” His voice cracked open, raw and shaking. “And then fall asleep only to wake up and remember you’re dead. It crushes me, Bobby. It destroys me.”
His face contorted, every muscle trembling with the effort not to break. Tears burned behind his eyes, threatening to spill. His mind was cruel–so cruel–to conjure Bobby like this.
“Buck… what happened in the lab wasn’t your fault. I did it to myself. I saved the team.”
“Bobby–why didn’t you tell me? Why did you send me away?”
“There was only one dose. It was never because I wanted to go, Buck. I wanted to stay.”
Buck let out a quiet, shattered sound.
“Then why didn’t you let me save you?”
“This wasn’t something you could fix,” Bobby said softly. “I did what I had to do as a captain. It’s not your fault. I love you, kid.”
Buck’s voice was barely a whisper. “I love you too, Pops.”
Ghost Bobby moved around the bed and sat beside Buck, wrapping phantom arms around him. Buck felt it–a soft warmth across his shoulders, like a memory brushing against his skin.
“It’s okay to grieve, Buck. It’s okay to feel sad. Just remember the good moments. And remember that it’s okay to ask for help sometimes, too.”
“H–help…”
The word tore out of him, and then Buck broke completely–sobbing in Ghost Bobby’s arms like he hadn’t cried in years. The sound of it echoed in his chest, heavy and desperate, like grief was clawing through him trying to escape. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, only that it felt endless.
“You have people who care about you, Evan. Don’t let this ruin you. They want to be there for you.”
“I don’t know… I don’t know how to let someone in without ruining them. Bobby–how am I supposed to live like this? Without you?”
“I think… I think you’re just supposed to live. And grief is part of living. Don’t disappear into the darkness, kid. There’s so much light out there.”
Bobby’s form began to fade. Buck’s chest clenched with panic, reaching toward him as if he could hold onto a ghost.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Of course, Buck. I’m always here. Just call for me, and I’ll answer.”
The air was thick and cold, heavy with everything left unsaid. The memories from last night clung to the walls of the house like shadows that refused to lift. Buck walked out of the bedroom and tiptoed into the kitchen, moving slowly, quietly–like even the sound of breathing too loud might cause him to shatter again.
He started the coffee maker and silently begged it not to sputter or groan.
“Hey… we should probably talk.”
Buck spun around, startled. Eddie stood in the doorway with bed-messy hair and tired eyes, the kind that looked like he hadn’t slept any better than Buck had.
“Yeah,” Buck whispered. “We probably should. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Eddie stepped closer, cautious but determined, and Buck automatically reached behind him to grab a second mug from the cabinet. He filled both cups with freshly brewed coffee, the smell warm and grounding, even if neither of them felt grounded at all.
“I’m sorry, Buck,” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry I told you that you wouldn’t be happy for me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about El Paso. I should’ve trusted you.”
Buck shook his head. “Eddie… I’m sorry I never asked you about Bobby. I knew he was important to you too. I should’ve been there for you and Christopher after the call. You shouldn’t have had to carry that alone.”
The two of them set their coffee down at the same time, like muscle memory, and pulled each other into a hug–one of those strong, familiar Buck-and-Eddie hugs that always said more than their words ever could.
But this time, when Buck pulled back, his breath trembled.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” he said, voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”
Eddie’s face tightened. “Buck… what do you mean? Do what?”
Buck looked at him like it hurt to breathe. “I don’t want you to leave, Eddie. I don’t want you to fly back to Texas. I want to be selfish and beg you to stay because I need you here. Because I don’t… I don’t know how to hold myself together without you.”
Eddie swallowed hard, a tear gathering in the corner of his eye. “Buck… I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with you.”
“Then stay,” Buck whispered, stepping closer. “Stay for yourself. Stay for Christopher. Stay for… me.”
Eddie exhaled, shaky and relieved and overwhelmed all at once. He reached out, taking Buck’s hand like he’d been wanting to for months.
“I’m right here, Buck,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And for the first time since Bobby died, since the lab, since everything fell apart–
Buck finally let himself believe it.
" Maybe- Maybe go back to Texas to get our son back to LA? "