Chapter Text
They're asking me to lead, I'm doing the best I can. I know it's a lot to ask, to leave behind the world you know.
But if I could grant you peace of mind, would that be enough?
“I’m just running out of time.”
“To do what?” Dr. Copeland sat up in her chair a bit, her journal slid off her lap into the side of her chair, and Buck watched it go with careful eyes.
“Just… Maddie and Chim are married, and they have Jee and Nash. Hen and Karen have Denny and Mara, and they have been so strong during Hen’s health problems. They’re a total power family, they’re so strong, even Toni. Ravi has his apartment buildings, and I always see him smiling at his phone when he thinks no one is looking. Athena, May, and Harry are in such a good place right now, especially with Harry starting at the 118. Chimney had a rough time there for a few days, but I think the talk Hen gave him really helped. Eddie and Chris are in a great spot, Chris just joined the Astronomy Club at school and he’s loving it. Eddie had that whole thing with Abigail, but Alex kind of tightened her leash when they found out she’d driven Chris home that day after school.” Buck bit down on his bottom lip and let his eyes fall to the floor. “And then there’s just me, accidentally sleeping with a married couple.”
“Would you like to talk about that again, Buck?”
He shook his head, he really didn’t want to bring it up again at all. They’d talked about it quite a bit, until they finally moved onto other things. Buck felt ok about it now, just content to let that moment fall into the waves. “No, I just… it’s a tribute to my character. I’m still trying to find the one for me, and everyone else has someone.”
Dr. Copeland picked up her mug and took a sip, swallowing before she smiled and politely asked. “Oh, Eddie has a significant other?”
He scowled but she kept her face plain, not giving anything away, and with a roll of his eyes he crossed his arms. “He’s… he’s focusing on Chris. The Astronomy Club keeps him busy for like one hour.”
“Buck.”
“You’re mean. You know that?”
Dr. Copeland took another sip. “I am aware that poking holes in your logic may disgruntle you.”
“And that,” He pointed at her with a shake of his head. “You say shit like that.”
Dr. Copeland didn’t say anything, just looked at him. Her legs were still crossed, and her heel began to bop a bit.
“He’s straight!”
She didn’t react to that but he still rolled his eyes.
“Please, doc, have you ever pined after someone you knew you could never have? It’s not really fun, I wouldn't recommend it.”
“Buck.”
“He’s not in love with me.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Buck’s eyes fell unemotionally on Dr. Copeland’s shoes, and he pressed his lips together with crossed arms and uncrossed legs. He stood up from the couch, moving from sitting in front of her to the chair to her left. “Dr. Copeland, what is at your 9 o’clock right now?”
Her eyes flickered around, confused and she set down her mug on the ground, uncrossing her legs too. She turned to the left and stared at him. “You are, Buck. You’re at my 9 o’clock right now.”
“How do you know that?”
“You had to know it if you wanted to go overseas.”
He stood and pointed at the clock, his appointment had ended 30 seconds ago. She stood quickly, but he was already at the door, at her 12 o’clock. He looked around the room, then shook his head at her and shrugged. “I was never in front of you, it wasn’t that obvious. You had to turn your head to see me.” Buck knew she was following, knew she was piecing everything together. They both loved games, loved solving the mystery, he knew she understood. “You just didn’t want to.”
🕘
There was something equally haunting and peaceful about being home alone. Growing up, Buck had been left at home by himself frequently, so he grew somewhat used to it, but now, sitting on the couch of his house, darkness piercing through the window, something unsettled him. Maybe it had been his chat with Dr. Copeland that afternoon, or it was the silent, eerie ring of his neighbor’s windchimes and the silent whirr of his fridge. Buck didn’t like the dark almost as much as he didn’t like silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn on the lights. He was tired, in his bones, in his soul, in his heart. Life had beat him black and blue that day, and while his blood was chilled with fear, and every hair on his body was standing on guard, he couldn’t move. He didn’t know what time it was, how long it had been since he’d sunk onto the couch and thrown his phone across the room to avoid Eddie’s texts. Chris had Astronomy Club that night, and Eddie knew that Buck always cleared his schedule after therapy. Buck grabbed his phone from the throw pillow by the wall and glanced quickly at it.
“Hey, come over?”
“Buckley?”
“Buck??”
Buck didn’t bother to respond, just slipped his keys into his pocket and walked out to his truck in the driveway. If he was going to wallow in self-pity and depression, he could at least have a pint of ice cream to keep him company.
The grocery store closest to Buck’s house was far from his first choice, but he just grabbed a basket and walked in, avoiding the aisle where Eddie had called him exhausting. He also avoided the section of the store that had been scrubbed clean of blood, blood that had leaked out of a gunshot wound and onto the ground. He loaded his basket with three different kinds of ice cream, threw in some chocolate chips and peanut butter chips, and finished it off with some bread. Sometimes he liked to eat plain bread with no butter and pretend he was a peasant boy from the olden days. Buck was smiling, laughing silently to himself, when he heard a voice behind him.
“What’s so funny?”
For a second, Buck almost took off running, but his basket was heavy and he was too tired. The universe must have thought he was shit because it sure liked to punish him. He held up his free hand like he was being arrested and swiveled on his foot to face Eddie.
Eddie was holding a 6-pack of beers, fresh from the fridge in the back of the store and Buck casually waved.
“What’s up, dude?”
If Eddie was a cartoon character, Buck imagined he’d have red smoke steaming out of his ears. That, or he’d be dropping an anvil on Buck’s head. He wasn’t answering, so Buck decided to leave. His body had started screaming “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” when he first saw Eddie, and he decided to listen.
“Well, I gotta get home, or my ice cream's gonna melt.” He held up the basket so Eddie could see the contents and he turned, heading toward the cash register in a speedwalk. Eddie caught up with him pretty quickly though, and he grabbed onto Buck’s shoulder, pulling him back. It hurt like fuck and Buck grimaced, tearing his limb from between Eddie’s fingers. His friend didn’t even apologize, just stared at Buck for a moment, like he was trying to read something in a language he didn’t understand.
“Why didn’t you text me back?” His brown eyes were confused and while it hurt to look at him, Buck was too annoyed to pity Eddie right now. Eddie’s finger was playing with the cardboard of his beer pack, and Buck fought to keep from asking him what he was planning to do with that much alcohol.
“Oh, therapy was tough. You know how it is.” He made an exaggerated face and drew a line across his neck with a hand. He was laughing as he said it, but the lines on Eddie’s face deepened. “Anyway! I really wasn’t lying, this ice cream isn’t gonna last.” He didn’t mean to say it with such a pissed-off tone, but he was getting impatient and his ice cream was two minutes away from becoming a gross, warm, slush.
“Buck, did I do something? Can you just tell me what it was?”
“You didn’t do anything.” He probably said that too fast, but he didn’t care. Eddie didn’t get to avoid him, and write him out of his life, and then ask Buck what was wrong. It was cruel, and Buck really didn’t want to fuck with his best friend right now. He was tired, and angry and he just wanted his fucking ice cream.
Maybe that was why when his brain presented him with an idea that would get him out of there, he didn’t hesitate to scream the phrase.
“I just don’t want to be friends anymore.”
Steller.
Absolutely ✨steller✨ response you absolutely Stupid. Fucking. Dipshit.
Eddie’s face crumbled, and the beer slipped out of his hand and onto the ground. The crash of glass turned heads, an employee rushed over and hurriedly asked Eddie if he was ok as he asked his boss for a mop. Buck didn’t move either, the two of them stuck in a stare-off. Buck wanted to drop to his knees and tell Eddie he hadn’t meant it. He wanted to beg him to take him back, but instead, he turned to the employee beside him, read his nametag, and handed him a crisp $20.
“Kala, I am so sorry. I hope this covers it.” Then he turned and walked to the check out, throwing his items onto the scanner as fast as he could. He heard Kala still rambling behind him, but he didn’t hear Eddie’s voice again until he was walking out of the doors. The sentence slipped into the chill wind of the LA night and was carried like the song of a mockingbird. It felt like it was making fun of him too, mocking him as he climbed into his car and drove away.
“Buck, wait! Please.”
It was time to let go, Buck knew it as he collapsed in his house and threw his fist into the nearest wall. It didn’t break the surface, but there was a dent in the paint, and he knew it would just become a constant reminder of that night. He glanced quickly at the clock on his microwave as he threw his ice cream into the fridge.
9 o'clock.
Of course.
🕘
“Buck?”
“Hi, Maddie…”
He was lying on the floor of his kitchen, tucked against his oven door, shoveling chocolate ice cream into his mouth between words. His curls had fallen in his face, sometime between him tearing off his hoodie after the strings had gotten stuck in the door of the freezer, and when he’d spilt ice cream on his shirt. His back was cold against the metal of the oven, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
The faded Lichtenberg scars on his chest spiraled toward his bellybutton and he purposely kept his eyes off of them. He didn’t need a reminder of the time he’d died, a reminder of when he’d been gone for 3 minutes and 17 seconds.
He didn’t need a reminder of when Eddie’s hands had broken his ribs and forced his heart to keep beating.
“Buck? Are you ok? It’s late.” Maddie’s voice was hushed, she’d probably been reading on the back porch or something after putting the little ones down. He was interrupting her private time.
“Oh, shit, are you having quiet time? I’m sorry-” He fumbled with his phone, moving to hang up, but Maddie was already saying that nothing was more important than her baby brother. He tried to keep the tears out of his eyes at that, and he explained what had happened that day. He left out his conversation with Dr. Copeland, but the story was still as melancholy without it.
“Aw, Buck. I’m so sorry.”
“And the funny thing is,” His voice hitched ever so slightly as tears threatened to choke off his words. “I could have just left well enough alone, but I didn’t, and now my best friend is gone.”
“He’s not gone, Buck. You both just need time and-”
“No, he’s gone. I know him Mads…” His voice had dropped and he was barely whispering. The darkness was surrounding him on all sides, and he began to wonder if he even had a lightswitch in the kitchen. “I know him.”
“Then you know that nothing could come between you two.” Maddie seemed very sure of what she was saying, and Buck wondered if he was giving off the implication that he was looking for an upbeat and optimistic response.
He wasn’t.
“Remember when he blamed me for Bobby's death?” He asked it with sick sarcasm, like it was supposed to be a joke but it couldn’t bring itself to be funny.
“Buck-”
“No, it’s fine, Maddie. I’m sorry for ruining your night. I’m just gonna go to bed. I’ll call you in the morning.” He said it with a forced smile in his voice, and Maddie sighed, knowing better than to fight him for more right now.
“I love you.”
“Ditto.”
Buck hung up the phone and let it slide out of his hand onto the hardwood floor of the kitchen, a small thump ringing through the room as it landed. He closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the oven again, and the next time he opened them, there was a weird smell in his nose.
His ice cream was still sitting beside him, melted into liquid in the container, and the sun was shining through the windows. He cringed, picking up the ice cream and throwing it into the trash can. He dragged himself into the bathroom and listened to break-up music as he pulled his fingers through his curls under the stream of warm water.
He didn’t check his phone again until he grabbed it to check the schedule. Sure enough, he had a shift with Eddie that morning.
Karma was a cruel thing.
He grabbed his duffle and stopped for coffee on the way, knowing he was going to need a shit ton of caffeine to get himself through the next twelve hours.
Buck was normally the first person to arrive at the station, but lately, he’d been being beaten by Harry. He walked in and handed the probie an extra donut he’d bought with his coffee and Harry made a very inappropriate noise when he saw it. Buck was still laughing as he walked into the locker room and threw his duffle into its spot. When he turned to start on his morning duties, Eddie was standing there, hair messy with a blank look on his face. Buck’s chuckle died in his throat.
Eddie looked like a ghost, barely even existing in front of Buck, like a phantom walking around in plain sight. Buck didn’t say anything to him, just side-stepped around him and ran off to help Harry stock the engines.
He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Eddie take a sip of his own coffee, and he cringed silently to himself.
Why’d he do it?
Why did he always ruin everything he touched?
The shift was something similar to Hell. Buck hadn’t ever been very religious growing up, but Episcopalians still believed in the idea of eternal death. Personally, Buck assumed that if there was a paradise for those who had gone through life with obedience, there had to be somewhere for those who hadn’t. He never imagined it would be like this, walking inside of a burning building with Eddie beside him. They were holding onto the same Halligan, using it to stay together as they navigated through the black smoke to get to the second level of the apartment complex. The entire building was minutes from crumbling to the ground, but they’d gotten a 9-1-1 call from someone still inside, a mother with her five month old daughter. They had to get them out.
Eddie stumbled, and as Buck pulled them forward, he kept his eyes on the numbers above the doors, begging to see the apartment they were looking for. He turned around to make sure Eddie was ok, and continued on after he saw the thumbs up.
“Dor!? Nocturne?!” Buck listened for them to call out just as he finally saw the numbers pinned to the wall. “Fifty-one! This one, Eddie. Quick!”
They beat in the door and saw the woman, she was only twenty, with short blonde hair and bright, terrified blue eyes. She was holding a baby to her chest, arms and a blanket wrapped around the tiny body.
“Oh my god.” She sobbed, holding her hand out for Buck. He reached for her just as the ground beneath them groaned and gave out. She screamed, flailing one arm and Buck moved to grab at her. He held onto the Halligan tight, hoping against hope that he still had a good reason to trust Eddie. She was slipping and he was slipping, and he yelled with effort as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and her weight fell on his shoulder.
“Shit. I’ve got you, ma’am. I’ve got you.”
Fire licked at Buck’s body as he hauled the woman up and with Eddie beside them, they ran out of the building. Buck watched with labored breaths as someone led Dor and Nocturne to the ambulance. Once they were safely inside, Buck dropped the Halligan, and the last thing he heard was Eddie scream his name before he sank to the ground and his eyes fluttered closed.
He almost laughed as the black covered his sight like ice spreading across a pond. He hadn’t heard Eddie's voice all day, they’d barely spoken to each other, and yet, Eddie’s voice was the last thing he heard before he died.
Maybe karma wasn’t so bad.
He didn’t know if he was going to go to Heaven or Hell, but he knew deep down that it didn’t really matter where he went. In Heaven, all he would see was Eddie in the faces of every angel, and in Hell, he’d be tormented by his best friend, the one he’d broken before he left.
“I’m just running out of time.”
Every day you fight, like you're running out of time. How do you fight every second you're alive?