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Buck had a half melted ice cream cone in one hand, a balloon animal shaped vaguely like a giraffe tied to his belt loop, and five year old Jee Yun perched happily on his shoulders. Her face was painted with elaborate tiger stripes, a sticky mix of orange paint and cotton candy.
In the stroller pushed by Buck’s other hand, one year old Robbie was fast asleep, his little chest rising and falling beneath a plush monkey blanket.
It was the zoo’s annual Family Animal Day. Buck had practically begged for a shift swap to be here. With everything the 118 had been through over the last year, the gaping, agonizing hole Bobby’s death had left in all of their lives after the lab explosion, Buck needed this. He needed the innocent joy of his niece and nephew. He needed to be Uncle Buck.
"Did you see the lions, Uncle Buck? They were sleeping just like Robbie," Jee Yun chimed from above him, her small hands lightly tapping on his forehead.
"I did, kiddo," Buck laughed, adjusting his grip on her ankles. "But I think Robbie snores louder than the lions. What do you think?"
Jee Yun giggled, a bright, musical sound that made Buck’s chest ache with sheer fondness. He hoisted her down as they reached his truck, carefully buckling her into her car seat before transferring a still sleeping Robbie into his.
"Alright, monkeys. Next stop, Mommy and Daddy's house."
The drive back toward Chimney and Maddie’s was peaceful. The radio was turned down low, playing softly in the background. In the rearview mirror, Buck could see Jee Yun’s eyelids drooping, her tiger striped face nodding along to the rhythm of the car. Robbie was completely out.
Buck smiled, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He was thinking about Eddie. He was wondering if Eddie was off shift yet, if maybe he could convince him to come over for a beer later, just the two of them.
He didn't see the truck until it was too late.
It came out of nowhere. A massive, dark shape blowing through a solid red light at an intersection.
There was no time to brake. No time to swerve. There was only the blinding flash of headlights. Then, the deafening roar of twisting metal.
Glass shattered into a million diamond like pieces, suspended in the air for a fraction of a second before flying like shrapnel. The truck spun violently, the world tilting into a chaotic blur of sky and asphalt. The sound of crushing steel was so loud it vibrated in Buck’s teeth, followed by a violent, sickening impact that knocked the breath from his lungs.
Then, absolute silence. Buck blinked.
He was standing on the asphalt. The evening air was warm. He felt completely fine. There was no pain, no ringing in his ears. He looked down at his hands, they were clean. No blood. No glass.
He turned around.
The breath he no longer needed vanished from his chest.
The intersection was a graveyard of mangled vehicles. A multi car pile up stretched across the lanes, smoke billowing from crushed hoods. Right in the center of the carnage was his truck. It was unrecognizable. The front end was completely caved in, the driver's side crushed like an empty soda can.
"No," Buck breathed.
He took a step forward, then another, breaking into a sprint. He reached the truck, grabbing the handle of the back door, but his hand passed right through the metal.
Buck froze. He looked at his hand. He looked at the car.
Oh God. He shoved his head through the shattered window. Jee Yun was slumped sideways, her small body curled protectively over Robbie’s car seat. Robbie was awake now, wailing in terror, his little face red, but he looked unharmed. Jee Yun, however, wasn't moving. A dark bruise was already blooming on her forehead, and her arm hung at an unnatural angle.
"Jee!" Buck screamed. "Jee Yun, wake up! Robbie, it's okay, Uncle Buck is here!"
But they couldn't hear him. The realization hit him with the force of the crash itself. He wasn't in his body.
The familiar, heart stopping wail of a fire engine siren pierced the air. Buck spun around. The 118 rig screeched to a halt, followed immediately by an ambulance.
The doors flew open. Hen, Chimney, Ravi, Eddie, and Harry, who was now driving the rig poured out, immediately going into triage mode. Buck felt a phantom ache in his chest at the sight of them. Without Bobby leading the charge, the team had formed a new, more desperate bond. Not wanting to lose another.
"Multiple vehicles! Hen, Harry, take the silver sedan! Ravi, Eddie, with me on the truck!" Chim yelled, his voice carrying the authority he had to learn too fast.
Buck watched Chimney run toward the crushed truck. He saw the exact second Chimney recognized the license plate. The color completely drained from Chimney's face. His medical bag dropped from his hand, hitting the pavement with a heavy thud.
"Chim?" Hen asked, stopping in her tracks.
"That's Buck's car," Chimney choked out. The professional captain vanished, replaced entirely by a terrified father. "My kids. My kids are in there!"
"Chim, wait!" Hen shouted, but Chimney was already tearing at the back door of the truck. With a surge of adrenaline, he wrenched the damaged door open.
Buck stood right beside him, an invisible ghost, watching his brother in law fall apart.
"Robbie! Jee!" Chimney scrambled into the backseat.
Robbie’s crying hitched as he saw his dad. Chimney unbuckled the baby with shaking hands, pulling him into his chest, burying his face in Robbie's neck. "You're okay, you're okay. Daddy's got you."
Hen was right behind him, carefully checking Jee Yun.
"She's got a pulse, Chim. She's breathing. Looks like a fractured radius and a concussion, but she's alive."
Jee Yun stirred with a tiny groan, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at Hen, disoriented.
"Hey, sweet girl," Hen said softly, tears pooling in her own eyes. "You did so good. You protected your baby brother like a fierce big sister. Let's get you out of here, okay?"
Chimney clutched Robbie tightly, passing him to a waiting Harry before turning back to help Hen with Jee.
"Where's Buck?" Chimney asked, panic returning to his voice. "Hen, where is he?"
They both looked toward the front seat.
It was empty.
The windshield was entirely gone, blown outward.
"Eddie!" Hen screamed, panic finally breaking her professional calm. "Eddie, he's not in the car!"
Buck turned his head. Eddie and Ravi were already circling the wreckage, sweeping the asphalt with their flashlights. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the carnage in stark, flashing red and blue lights.
Buck saw his own body before they did.
He was lying thirty feet away, thrown clear of the wreckage. He looked broken. A discarded, bloody ragdoll sprawled on the pavement.
Eddie's flashlight beam swept over a familiar boot. Then, the blood soaked t shirt.
"Buck!"
The scream tore from Eddie's throat. It wasn't a call for a colleague, it was the raw, guttural sound of a man having his heart ripped from his chest.
Eddie dropped to his knees beside Buck's mangled body. Ravi was there a second later, dropping the trauma bag.
"He's unresponsive!" Eddie yelled, his hands flying over Buck's neck, searching for a pulse. "Pulse is thready! He's barely hanging on. Ravi, we need to bag him, he's not pulling oxygen!"
Buck stood over them. He watched Eddie’s hands, hands that were usually so steady, so sure shaking violently as he grabbed the bag. Eddie’s face was deathly pale, his dark eyes wide with a terror Buck had never seen in him before.
"Come on, Evan. Come on, breathe," Eddie begged, pressing the mask over Buck's bloody face. "Don't do this. You don't get to leave me. Breathe!"
Buck reached out, wanting desperately to touch Eddie's shoulder, to tell him he was right here. But his hand swept through empty air.
I'm here, Eddie. I'm right here. "We need a backboard now!" Eddie shouted to the incoming EMTs. "Suspected spinal, massive internal bleeding, fractured ribs. Let's move!"
As they strapped his broken body to the board, Buck felt a strange, terrifying pull. It was a cold, numbing sensation, urging him to just close his eyes, to let the chaos fade away. He thought of Bobby. How easy would it be to just... stop fighting?
But then, a sound cut through the sirens and the shouting.
It was a cry. High pitched, terrified.
Buck turned away from Eddie and his own bleeding body. He walked mechanically toward the far side of the pile up, drawn in by the sound.
The 136 crew was frantically working on a dark blue sedan that had been crushed against a concrete divider. The front of the car was completely obliterated.
Buck stepped through the perimeter line. He looked into the front seat.
His ghostly breath hitched.
It was Connor. And Kameron.
They were covered in blood, their eyes sightless, staring straight ahead. A paramedic from the 136 pressed two fingers to Kameron's neck, waited a long three seconds, and shook his head at his captain.
"Time of death, 19:42. Both parents are gone," the paramedic said grimly. "Focus on the kid in the back."
Kid. Buck phased his head through the backdoor of the sedan.
There, strapped into a booster seat, was a four year old boy. He had Buck’s curls. He had Buck’s eyes. He was covered in safety glass, crying hysterically for his mother.
Noah.
Buck staggered backward, clutching his chest, though there was no heart there to break.
No. No, no, no. He looked at Connor and Kameron, the couple he had given a piece of himself to so they could have this beautiful family. Dead. Gone in a matter of seconds.
He looked at the weeping four year old boy, completely alone in the world.
He looked back across the flashing lights to where Eddie and Ravi were loading his dying body into the back of an ambulance. He saw Harry jump into the driver's seat. He saw Chimney climb into the front passenger side, clutching Robbie tightly. He saw Hen in the back, holding a conscious but terrified Jee Yun.
Buck stood in the middle of the wreckage, surrounded by the shattered pieces of his entire life. He threw his head back and screamed. A silent, agonizing wail of pure
heartbreak that no one could hear.
Tears streamed down his translucent face. He looked at little Noah one last time, making a silent promise, before turning and running.
He climbed into the back of the ambulance just as the doors slammed shut, sealing Buck inside a claustrophobic box of flashing lights and sheer panic.
He stood perfectly still in the narrow space between the stretcher and the seat. He didn't take up any physical room, but the sheer weight of the terror in the cabin felt suffocating. The siren wailed above them, a continuous, deafening scream as Harry took the corners fast and hard.
Up front, Chimney was rigid in the passenger seat. He had Robbie buried entirely in his coat, rocking him back and forth.
In the back, it was organized chaos.
Hen was wedged in the corner, one arm wrapped securely around Jee Yun. The little girl was crying softly, holding her broken arm against her chest. Hen was whispering soothing words into her hair, keeping her distracted so she didn't see Buck body laying there.
"BP is crashing, Eddie!" Ravi yelled over the siren, his hands slick with Buck's blood as he clamped down on a massive laceration on Buck's thigh. "He's losing too much, too fast!"
"Just keep pressure on it! Do not let go, Ravi!" Eddie barked back.
Buck stared at Eddie. He had been beside the man through earthquakes, snipers, and burning buildings. He had seen Eddie under fire, cool and calculating.
This wasn't that Eddie.
Eddie’s professional mask had completely shattered. His face was entirely devoid of color, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. He was rhythmically squeezing the bag, forcing air into Buck's unresponsive lungs. His dark eyes were wide, blown out with raw, unrestrained terror, darting frantically between the crashing monitors and Buck’s pale, blood streaked face.
"Come on, Evan. Stay with me. You stay right here," Eddie chanted, his voice cracking on the syllables. It sounded more like a prayer than a command. "Harry, how far out are we?!"
"Two minutes!" Harry shouted from the cab. "Tell him to hold on!"
"You hear that, Buck?" Eddie leaned down, his forehead hovering inches above Buck's. "Two minutes. Don't you dare quit on me now. You don't get to leave me behind. Breathe."
Buck reached out. He placed his transparent hand over Eddie's trembling fingers as they gripped the plastic mask. He felt nothing. No warmth. No pulse. Just the empty, agonizing void of his new reality.
I'm right here, Buck thought, closing his eyes against the sight of his own mutilated body. I'm not leaving. I promise. But the monitor above his head told a different story. The steady, terrifying whine of a flatline pierced the air.
"He's crashing! I'm losing his pulse!" Ravi shouted.
"No! No, no, no!" Eddie dropped the bag and threw his hands over Buck's sternum, immediately starting chest compressions. The sickening crunch of already broken ribs cracking further under Eddie's weight echoed in the small space. "Come back! Evan, come back!"
The ambulance jolted to a violent halt. The back doors flew open.
A swarm of hospital staff descended on them in an instant, bathed in the harsh, lights of the ER bay.
"We got him! Move, move!" a doctor shouted, grabbing the head of the stretcher.
Eddie didn't stop pumping. He practically climbed onto the gurney as they pulled it out, refusing to break the rhythm of the compressions.
Buck phased straight through the side of the ambulance, landing silently on the concrete as he watched his body being rushed through the sliding glass doors. He followed them, a ghost haunting his own tragic ending.
The trauma room was a blur of shouting voices, bright lights, and the clatter of surgical instruments.
"Blunt force trauma, massive internal hemorrhaging, GCS is a 3!" a nurse yelled out.
"I need an airway, get him intubated! Where is that blood?"
Eddie was standing frozen just inside the doorway. His hands were suspended in the air, dripping with Buck's blood. His chest heaved as he watched the nurses cut away what remained of Buck's favorite t shirt, exposing the massive, ugly purple bruising across his torso.
"Sir, you need to step out!" a nurse commanded, bodily pushing Eddie backward.
"No, I need to...he's my partner,"
"Get him out of here! Clear!"
The sharp jolt of the defibrillator sent Buck's body arching off the table. Eddie flinched violently, as if the electricity had struck him too. Ravi grabbed Eddie by the shoulders, physically dragging him out into the hallway as the heavy doors swung shut.
Buck stood in the center of the trauma room for a long moment. He watched them shock his heart a second time. He watched them prep his chest for emergency surgery. He felt entirely disconnected from the meat and bone on that table.
It was too much.
He turned and walked straight through the heavy doors, leaving his dying body behind.
He found the 118 in the waiting room. It was a secluded corner, the same corner they always ended up in when one of their own went down.
Harry was sitting on a plastic chair, his head buried in his hands. Ravi was leaning against the wall, staring blankly at a tiled pattern on the floor. Chimney and Hen were down the hall in pediatrics, getting the kids checked out.
Eddie was sitting perfectly still, staring at his hands. The blood had started to dry, turning into a dark, rusty brown against his skin. He looked hollowed out. A shell of the man who had been laughing in the firehouse kitchen just that morning.
Buck walked over and sat down on the floor.
"I'm sorry," Buck whispered into the silent room. "Eddie, I'm so sorry."
The sliding doors of the ER entrance flew open with a bang.
Maddie burst into the room. She was wearing her dispatcher uniform, her eyes wild, scanning the room frantically until she locked onto the blood soaked firefighters.
Chimney emerged from the pediatrics wing at the exact same moment.
"Howie!" Maddie sobbed, running toward him.
Chimney caught her in a desperate, tight embrace. "They're okay. Maddie, the kids are okay. Jee has a broken arm and a concussion, but she's going to be fine. Robbie doesn't even have a scratch."
Maddie let out a breath that sounded like a wounded animal, her knees buckling in pure relief. She clung to Chimney's shirt. "Thank God. Thank God."
Then, she looked up. She looked past Chimney, her eyes landing on Eddie. She saw the blood. She saw the empty chair.
The relief vanished from her face, replaced instantly by a cold, creeping horror.
"Howie," Maddie choked out, her grip on his shirt tightening until her knuckles turned white. "Where is my brother?"
Chimney squeezed his eyes shut. A single tear tracked through the soot on his face. He pulled Maddie tighter against his chest.
"He's in surgery, Mads," Chimney whispered, his voice breaking. "It's bad. It's really bad."
Maddie let out a scream that shattered the quiet of the waiting room. It was a sound of pure agony, the sound of a sister realizing she might lose her little brother. She collapsed entirely, Chimney struggling to hold her upright as she sobbed into his chest.
Buck sat rigidly next to Eddie, watching his sister break apart.
It's my fault, Buck thought, the guilt wrapping around his throat like a vice. I put the kids in that car. I drove them through that intersection. I did this to her. The numbing cold returned, stronger this time. It seeped into his translucent skin, wrapping around his mind. The chaotic, painful sounds of the hospital began to muffle.
He closed his eyes. In the darkness, he could almost see a familiar, warm kitchen. He could almost smell the coffee. He could almost hear Bobby's voice, steady and calm, telling him that he had done enough. That he could rest now.
Buck leaned his head back against the wall, tears slipping down his invisible cheeks. He was so tired.
Time in the ICU didn't move in hours or minutes. It moved in the way the ventilator forced air into Buck’s lungs. It moved in the steady beep of the heart monitor.
For Buck, floating untethered in the corner of the hospital room, time had stopped altogether.
His physical body looked incredibly fragile lying in the center of the bed. A thick plastic tube was taped to his mouth. White bandages wrapped heavily around his chest, hiding the surgical staples holding him together after they had removed his ruptured spleen and repaired his lung. His face was a canvas of deep purple and yellow bruises, swollen almost beyond recognition.
Buck hated looking at it. But he couldn't leave the room.
His family had established a permanent vigil. They rotated in shifts, a quiet, exhausted parade of grief.
Maddie came in and cried softly, holding his limp hand, telling him over and over that Jee Yun and Robbie were safe at home, that they were waiting for their Uncle Buck. Chimney stood behind her like a stone pillar, resting a hand on her shoulder, his eyes dark and heavy with guilt that Buck wished he could wipe away. Hen came and read medical charts over the doctors' shoulders, demanding updates, refusing to accept the grim, sympathetic looks the neurologists gave her about his brain swelling.
But Eddie never left.
Eddie had pulled a hard plastic chair directly against the bed rail. He looked utterly destroyed. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises. His jaw was covered in thick stubble. Someone had eventually forced him to shower and change out of his blood soaked uniform, but he still sat with the same rigid, terrified posture he’d had in the ambulance.
He held Buck’s hand for hours, his thumb lightly stroking the bruised knuckles. He rarely spoke. He just stared at Buck’s chest, making sure it kept rising and falling.
Go home, Eddie, Buck pleaded silently from his spot against the wall. Go sleep. Please. But the words evaporated into the cold air.
The numbing cold was getting worse. It seeped into Buck's ghostly skin, wrapping around his limbs like heavy lead.
The temptation to let go, to close his eyes and drift into the warm, comforting darkness where Bobby was waiting, was becoming unbearable. He was so tired. The guilt of putting his niece and nephew in danger was a heavy, suffocating weight on his chest. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe he was just meant to fade out.
The heavy glass door slid open.
Eddie looked up, his hollow eyes blinking against the hallway light.
It was Carla, and right beside her, leaning heavily on his crutches, was Christopher.
Buck pushed himself off the wall, moving closer to the bed. Chris looked so much older, taller, but right now, his face was pale and terrified. He stared at all the tubes and wires keeping Buck alive, his knuckles turning white on the grips of his crutches.
"Hey, buddy," Eddie rasped. His voice was completely shot, rough from disuse and holding back sobs. He stood up, giving Chris his chair.
Chris sat down carefully. He didn't look at his dad. He kept his eyes fixed entirely on Buck's bruised face.
Slowly, he reached out and placed his hand over Buck's.
"Hey, Buck," Christopher said. His voice trembled, but he forced it to stay steady. "You look terrible."
Buck let out a wet, soundless laugh, tears welling in his eyes.
"Dad says your brain is sleeping so it can heal," Chris continued, his thumb tracing the edge of a bandage on Buck's hand. "But you've been sleeping too long. You're missing everything."
Buck dropped to his knees beside Chris's chair. He reached out to hug him, to wrap his arms around the kid who meant everything to him, but his arms passed straight through Chris's shoulders.
"I remember when you got struck by lightning," Chris said, a tear finally escaping and slipping down his cheek. "You died. But you came back. You fought the lightning, Buck. You can't let a car crash beat you."
Chris leaned forward, resting his forehead against the metal bed rail.
"Please wake up. We need you. I need you."
Eddie choked back a sob, turning his face away and pressing his hand over his mouth.
Buck was weeping. He curled in on himself on the floor, covering his ears. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Chris. I can't. I'm too tired. The cold was pulling him down, dragging him toward the floor, toward the dark void that promised peace. He felt his spirit begin to separate further from the room, the voices of Chris and Eddie sounding like they were underwater.
He was letting go.
Then, a sharp, electronic sound shattered the heavy quiet.
Buck’s cell phone.
It had been recovered from the wreckage, the screen cracked but functional, sitting in the clear plastic bag of personal effects on the bedside table.
Eddie wiped his face, too exhausted to move. Maddie, who had just stepped back into the room with two cups of terrible cafeteria coffee, sat them down and walked over to the bag. She pulled the phone out. She looked at the caller ID, her brow furrowing.
"It's an unknown number," Maddie whispered.
She answered it, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello? Yes, this is his sister. He can't come to the phone right now."
Buck stopped sinking. The cold pull hesitated. He watched Maddie’s face.
"I... wait, what?" Maddie’s voice wavered. The color instantly drained from her cheeks, leaving her looking sickly pale. Her eyes darted toward Eddie, then back to the floor. "Are you sure? Oh my god. Oh my god."
"Maddie?" Eddie asked, his voice thick with dread. "What is it?"
Maddie’s hand was shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. "Yes, I understand. I'll... I'll tell them. Thank you."
She ended the call. The room was dead silent, save for the ventilator.
"Maddie," Eddie stood up, stepping toward her. "Who was that?"
Maddie took a shaky breath. Tears spilled over her lashes, tracking rapidly down her face. She looked at Buck's unmoving body, and then at Eddie.
"That was child services. And a lawyer," Maddie choked out. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth. "They were calling about of of the other cars. The one in the intersection."
Buck felt a violent jolt of electricity shoot through his transparent chest.
Noah.
"The other car?" Eddie asked, confused. "The couple that didn't make it?"
"It was Connor. And Kameron," Maddie sobbed, the dam finally breaking. "They were in the car, Eddie. They died on impact."
Eddie stepped back, all the breath leaving his lungs.
Chris looked between the two adults, his eyes wide with horror.
"But their son," Maddie cried, her voice rising in pitch. "Noah. He was in the backseat. He survived. He is up in pediatrics right now."
Maddie walked over to Buck's bedside, her hands gripping the rails so tightly the knuckles bruised. She looked down at her baby brother.
"They had a will, Eddie," Maddie whispered, her voice breaking on a sob. "If anything ever happened to them... they named Evan as his legal guardian. He has legal custody over Noah now."
The words hung in the air, heavy and absolute.
Buck stared at Maddie. He stared at his broken body on the bed.
The image of the crushed blue sedan flashed in his mind. The sightless eyes of Connor and Kameron. The hysterical, terrified cries of a four year old boy sitting in a booster seat covered in shattered glass. A boy with his curls. A boy with his eyes.
A little boy who had just lost everything, who was sitting entirely alone in a hospital room just a few floors above them.
The suffocating guilt over Jee Yun and Robbie suddenly evaporated, incinerated by a sudden, blinding flash of fierce protectiveness.
He had promised Connor and Kameron he would just be a donor. But they were gone. Noah needed him. He needed to do this for Noah, for Connor, for Kameron.
He needs someone.
Buck looked at the dark corner of the room where the void was waiting for him. Where Bobby was waiting.
I can't go. The numbing cold vanished, replaced by a searing, desperate heat. Buck scrambled to his feet. He threw himself toward the hospital bed.
"Wake up!" Buck screamed, his voice raw and echoing in his own mind. He reached out, plunging his ghostly hands into the chest of his physical body. "Wake up, Buck! You have to fight!"
He pushed against the darkness. He clawed at the invisible barrier keeping him out. He thought of Noah, crying for a mother who would never come. He thought of Chris, begging him not to leave. He thought of Eddie, looking like he would simply stop breathing if Buck's heart gave out. He thought of Maddie, how much she would break without him. She thought of Jee Yun and Robbie and how much he wanted to see them grow up. He thought of the team, how they just lost Bobby, they couldn't go through another death.
"They need you!" Buck roared at his silent, bruised face. "You don't get to quit! You fight!"
On the monitor above the bed, the steady lines of Buck's heart rate hitched. A single spike jumped across the screen. Eddie's head snapped up.
The spike on the monitor was a cruel tease.
Eddie had shot out of his chair, his hands hovering over Buck’s chest as if he could physically pull the next heartbeat out of him. Maddie had gasped, clutching Chris closer to her side.
They waited. Ten seconds. Thirty. A minute.
But the line smoothed out, returning to the same slow, mechanically assisted pace. A doctor came in, checked the pupils, adjusted the ventilator, and gave them a sympathetic, heartbreaking look. Just a muscle spasm, the look said. Don't get your hopes up.
Maddie eventually left, and agreed to take Christopher home. Carla having left earlier. The kid was exhausted, trembling from the adrenaline crash, and he needed his own bed. Eddie telling him, Tia Pepa will meet you there.
Which left Eddie entirely alone in the quiet room of the ICU room. It was 3:00 AM.
Buck was still standing right beside the bed. The searing heat that had filled him when he learned about Noah hadn't faded, but he was trapped. He was throwing himself against an invisible wall, screaming at his own mind, trying to force a connection between his spirit and his broken physical form.
But the wall was too thick. His body was too damaged, too deeply submerged in the coma. Buck felt like he was drowning just inches below the surface of the water, able to see the light but unable to break through to breathe.
He sank to the floor, his back against the bed rail, utterly defeated.
Above him, Eddie let out a long, shuddering breath.
Buck looked up. Eddie was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. He was shaking. Not the subtle, repressed tremors Buck had seen in the ambulance, but full body, violent shudders.
Slowly, Eddie reached out and took Buck’s limp, bruised hand in both of his own. He pressed Buck’s knuckles against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut.
"You have a son now," Eddie whispered into the quiet room. His voice was completely shattered. "You have a little boy, Evan. He's four. And he's got your hair, and he is so scared up there right now."
Buck pushed himself up, standing over Eddie, his ghostly heart aching at the sound of his own name falling from Eddie's lips like a prayer.
"I went to see him," Eddie continued, tears finally slipping down his face, soaking into the bandages on Buck's hand. "While Maddie was talking to the doctors. I just stood in the doorway. He was holding a little stuffed toy, Buck. He needs you."
Eddie lifted his head, fixing his bloodshot, tear filled eyes on Buck’s swollen, sleeping face.
"You can't leave him alone," Eddie begged, his voice cracking. "And I swear to God, Evan, you don't have to do it by yourself. I'll help you. We will figure it out. Christopher will be thrilled to be a big brother. We can buy a bigger place. We will do whatever you want. But you have to wake up to do it."
Buck reached out, mirroring Eddie's position, placing his translucent hand over Eddie's. He closed his eyes and pushed. He pushed all his love, all his desperation, straight into that point of contact.
I'm trying, Eddie. I'm trying so hard.
Eddie let out a broken sob, dropping his head to rest on the edge of the mattress, his face pressed against Buck's arm. The last of his walls completely crumbled.
"Please," Eddie wept, the sound tearing through the quiet room like physical violence. "Please, I need you to wake up. I can't do this again."
Eddie’s grip tightened on Buck’s hand.
"I can't lose you," Eddie confessed, the words raw and scraped from the very bottom of his soul. "I can't lose the only two people I have ever loved to a car crash. I won't survive it this time, Evan. I won't."
The words hit Buck like a physical blow.
Shannon. Eddie was living his worst nightmare all over again. He was watching the person he loved bleed out on the asphalt, watching them fade away in a hospital room, completely powerless to stop it.
Loved. The realization ripped through Buck’s spirit. The sheer, overwhelming weight of Eddie's confession acted like a tether, wrapping around Buck and pulling him sharply downward. The void vanished.
Suddenly, there was no cold. There was no numbness.
There was only pain.
It was immediate and blinding. It felt like his chest was in a vice, like his head was splitting open. But beneath the agony, there was something else. Warmth.
He could feel the rough texture of the blanket. He could feel the heavy, uncomfortable plastic tube lodged in his throat.
And he could feel a hand, warm and calloused, gripping his fingers so tightly it hurt.
Buck funneled every ounce of his returning consciousness into that hand. He bypassed the screaming pain in his ribs and the fog in his brain. He focused entirely on the point where Eddie's skin met his own.
Move.
Underneath Eddie’s forehead, Buck’s index finger twitched.
Eddie froze. His breath hitched, stalling in his chest.
He slowly lifted his head, his wide eyes dropping to their joined hands.
Buck forced his brain to send the signal again. It felt like lifting a boulder, but he managed to curl his fingers inward, weakly grasping Eddie’s hand back.
"Buck?" Eddie gasped, shooting up from the chair.
Buck's eyelids felt like they were glued shut, weighed down by the swelling and the exhaustion. But he could hear the panic and the frantic hope in Eddie's voice. That was all the motivation he needed.
With a final, agonizing push, Buck forced his eyes open.
The harsh lights of the ICU was blinding. Everything was a blurry, overexposed smear of white and gray. He blinked, tears immediately leaking from the corners of his eyes from the strain. The plastic tube in his airway gagged him, and he let out a choked, panicked sound.
"Hey, hey, look at me! I'm right here!"
A face swam into his field of vision, blocking out the harsh ceiling lights. Eddie.
He looked terrible. His eyes were red and swollen, his hair a mess, his face pale and drawn. But to Buck, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.
"Nurse!" Eddie bellowed over his shoulder, the sheer volume rattling the monitors. "I need a nurse in here now! He's awake!"
Buck tried to speak, to tell him he heard him, to tell him about the ghost and Noah and the void, but the ventilator forced air into his lungs, cutting him off with another sickening gag. His heart monitor began to beep rapidly in distress.
"Shh, don't fight the tube, Evan, you're okay. Let it breathe for you," Eddie soothed, his hands hovering over Buck as if terrified to hurt him, but desperate to touch him. "You're in the hospital. You were in an accident. But you're safe. You're safe."
Nurses flooded into the room, instantly swarming the bed. They started checking his vitals, shining penlights into his eyes, calling out numbers to each other.
"Sir, we need you to step back so we can assess," a nurse said firmly, trying to edge Eddie away from the bed rail.
"No." Eddie's voice left absolutely no room for argument. He didn't move an inch. He kept his hands planted firmly on either side of Buck's pillow.
He looked down at Buck. The monitors were loud, the nurses were pulling at his blankets, but Buck's eyes were locked entirely on Eddie's.
Eddie didn't care who was in the room. He didn't care about the doctors, or the protocols, or the mess of tubes.
He leaned down, burying his hands carefully into Buck’s curls, and pressed his lips fiercely to the center of Buck's bruised forehead. He lingered there, his shoulders shaking as a fresh wave of tears fell onto Buck’s skin.
He peppered desperate, reverent kisses across Buck's temple, the bridge of his nose, and the unbruised corner of his cheek. It was an absolute breaking of the dam, a physical manifestation of days of terror finally washing away.
"You came back," Eddie sobbed against Buck's cheek, his hot tears mixing with Buck's own. "Thank you. God, Evan, thank you."
Buck couldn't speak. He could barely breathe on his own. But he managed to weakly slide his hand across the sheet until his fingers brushed against Eddie's arm.
He squeezed once. I'm not leaving.
Eddie let out a breathless, wet laugh, capturing Buck's hand and pressing it to his chest, right over his racing heart.
"Let's get this tube out, Mr. Buckley," the doctor announced, stepping up to the head of the bed. "It's going to be uncomfortable, but you need to cough for me."
The extubation was agonizing. Buck choked and coughed, his broken ribs screaming in protest, sending stars dancing across his vision. But through the entire ordeal, Eddie's hands never left him. Eddie held him steady, saying constant praises and comforts until the plastic was finally pulled free.
An oxygen mask was quickly slipped over his nose and mouth.
Buck took his first real, unassisted breath in days. His throat felt like it was lined with shattered glass. His entire body was a symphony of pain.
But he was alive. He was back in his body.
He turned his head slightly, wincing, to look at Eddie.
Eddie was watching him with an expression so open, so incredibly vulnerable, that it made Buck's heart ache in the best possible way.
Buck lifted his heavy, trembling hand, pulling the oxygen mask down just an inch. His voice was nothing more than a ruined, gravelly rasp.
"Noah," Buck croaked.
Eddie’s face softened completely. But confusion crossed his face. He gently pushed the mask back into place, letting his fingers trail down Buck's jawline.
"He's safe, Evan. He's right upstairs," Eddie whispered, a watery, beautiful smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Rest right now. We'll go see our boy soon."
Buck closed his eyes, the words wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
Our boy. Buck then slipped into a real, healing sleep, anchored safely to the world by the man holding his hand.
The healing process was not a straight line. It was a grueling, agonizing climb.
Over the next few days, Buck drifted in and out of a heavy, medication induced haze. His shattered ribs made every breath a battle. The incision from his spleen removal burned with a white hot fire whenever he shifted. But every time he opened his eyes, his anchor was there.
Eddie was a constant, solid presence, usually dozing in the chair beside him, their fingers still intertwined.
It was mid morning when Buck finally woke up with a clear head. The harsh oxygen mask had been replaced by a quiet nasal cannula. The room was bathed in pale sunlight.
Sitting at the foot of his bed, holding hands, were Maddie and Chimney.
Maddie’s head snapped up the second Buck shifted. She practically threw herself out of the chair, rushing to his side. Chimney was right behind her, his eyes shining.
"Hey," Buck croaked. His voice was raw, his throat still battered from the intubation.
"Oh, Evan," Maddie sobbed, burying her face in the space between his uninjured shoulder and his neck. She was shaking, clinging to him like he might disappear if she let go. "You scared me. You scared me so much."
Chimney placed a warm, heavy hand over Buck's shin over the blankets. "Good to have you back."
Buck swallowed hard. The clear head brought back the sharp, suffocating memories of the crash. The sound of the twisting metal. The sight of Jee Yun slumped over her baby brother.
The tears came instantly, hot and fast, spilling over his bruised cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Buck choked out, a sob tearing at his injured chest. He couldn't stop it. The guilt he had carried around the hospital as a ghost came rushing back.
"Maddie, Chim, I'm so sorry. I put them in that car. It's my fault. I almost,"
"Stop." Maddie pulled back instantly. Her hands came up to cup his face, wiping the tears away with her thumbs. Her gaze was fierce, leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Do not do that, Evan Buckley. Don't you dare."
"But I,"
"No," Chimney interrupted, moving up to stand beside Maddie. His voice was thick with emotion, but steady. "A drunk driver ran a red light, Buck. That is on him. Not you. You made sure they were buckled in perfectly. You swapped shifts so you could give them a great day. You protected them."
"Jee Yun has a pink cast, and she's been telling everyone her Uncle Buck fought a monster truck to save her," Maddie said, her voice cracking as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You didn't break our family, Evan. You held it together. I only care that you're alive, you are all alive."
Buck let out a shuddering breath, his eyes fluttering shut. He felt Chimney grip his hand, squeezing tightly and the heavy, crushing weight of the guilt finally lifted from his chest. He was absolved. He was safe.
"Thank you," Buck whispered into the quiet room.
Two days later, the doctors finally cleared him for a very special visitor.
Eddie had spent the morning carefully helping Buck sit up higher against the pillows, brushing his curls back so he looked a little less like he’d been in a warzone.
There was a soft knock on the door. A hospital social worker stepped in, offering a gentle smile.
Behind her, clutching a stuffed plushie to his chest, was Noah.
He was so small. He had a small bandage over his eyebrow, but otherwise, he was physically unhurt.
Emotionally, he looked completely lost. His big blue eyes, Buck’s eyes were wide and terrified as he took in the machines and the hospital bed.
Eddie stepped back, giving them space, but stayed close enough for Buck to feel the warmth of him.
Buck pushed through the screaming pain in his ribs. He forced a soft, reassuring smile.
"Hey, Noah," Buck said gently, keeping his voice low.
Noah hesitated, his little sneakers scuffing against the linoleum. "Are you Evan?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I'm supposed to stay with you now. Because my mommy and daddy went to heaven."
Buck's heart shattered into a million pieces, only to reform itself around the little boy standing in the doorway.
"Yeah, buddy. I'm Evan. But you can call me Buck," he said, tears pooling in his eyes. He slowly reached out his un IV hooked hand. "Your mommy and daddy... they loved you so much, Noah. So much. And they asked me to make sure you were always safe, and you will always know how much they loved you."
Noah looked at Buck's outstretched hand, then up at Buck's bruised face. Slowly, tentatively, he walked forward. He climbed up onto the small step stool Eddie had placed by the bed, and carefully laid his small hand in Buck's large one.
"Are you gonna go to heaven too?" Noah whispered, his lower lip quivering.
"No," Buck promised, his voice thick and fiercely convicted. He squeezed Noah's small fingers. "I promise you, buddy. I'm not going anywhere. I am right here. And I'm going to take care of you."
Noah let out a small, quiet sob, and carefully leaned his head against Buck's mattress. Buck moved his hand to stroke the boy's curls.
He looked up, catching Eddie's eye across the room. Eddie was quietly crying, watching them with a look of such profound love that it took Buck's breath away.
It was late that night. The hospital was completely silent. Noah was fast asleep on a small cot the nurses had brought in, clutching his plushie, completely exhausted.
Eddie was sitting in his usual chair, reading a worn book by the low light of the bedside lamp.
"Eddie," Buck said softly into the quiet.
Eddie immediately put the book down, leaning forward. "Yeah? You need water? Pain meds?"
"No," Buck said. He reached out, finding Eddie's hand in the dark. Eddie immediately tangled their fingers together. "When I woke up... you looked confused when I asked about Noah. Before Maddie even told me."
Eddie frowned slightly, rubbing his thumb over Buck's knuckles. "Yeah. I was. The doctors said you were in a deep coma. You shouldn't have known."
Buck took a slow, rattling breath. "I wasn't in my body, Eddie."
Eddie froze.
"I was standing on the intersection," Buck whispered, the memory sending a chill down his spine. "I watched Chimney find the kids. I watched you pull me out. I was in the ambulance. I stood in this room for days."
Eddie stared at him, all the color draining from his face. "Evan... you saw..."
"I saw it all," Buck said. He swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting closer to the edge of the bed. He looked entirely into Eddie's dark, beautiful eyes. "I heard Maddie get the phone call about Connor and Kameron. That's when I knew I couldn't let go. I had to come back for him."
Buck paused, his grip on Eddie's hand tightening.
"But I heard you, too."
Eddie stopped breathing entirely.
"I heard what you said," Buck said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "When it was just us. You said you couldn't lose the only two people you had ever loved."
Eddie closed his eyes, a single tear escaping and tracking down his cheek. He looked terrified, completely vulnerable and exposed. He started to pull his hand back, a defensive instinct kicking in. "Buck, I... I thought I was losing you. I didn't mean to put that on you,"
"Eddie, stop," Buck said gently, refusing to let go of his hand. He tugged Eddie slightly closer. "It was the tether. Your voice. Knowing you loved me... it's the only reason I could find my way back into my body. Noah made me want to fight, but you brought me back to my body."
Eddie opened his eyes, staring at Buck in absolute shock.
"I love you, too," Buck said, the words slipping out easily, naturally, like they had been waiting there for years. "I've loved you for a long time. And I meant what I said to Noah. I'm not going anywhere."
A broken, breathless sound escaped Eddie's throat. He didn't hesitate this time. He leaned over the bed rails, cupping Buck's jaw with incredibly gentle, shaking hands, and pressed his lips to Buck's.
It wasn't a desperate, frantic kiss like the ones he had pressed to Buck's face when he woke up. It was deep, intentional, and overwhelmingly tender. It tasted like salt, but to Buck, it felt like coming home. He smiled into the kiss, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, resting their foreheads together. Eddie was smiling, a real, full, breathtaking smile that reached his eyes.
Buck smiled back, but a sudden thought made him pull back just a fraction. He looked over at the sleeping four year old on the cot, then back at Eddie, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure.
"Eddie... everything is different now," Buck whispered. "You don't care that I come with a four year old now? That my life just changed?"
Eddie looked at him, his expression softening into absolute devotion. He reached up, gently brushing a curl away from Buck's eyes.
"Not at all," Eddie said, his voice a low, steady promise. "I told you. He's our boy. Chris is excited to be a brother, he is already trying to clear out his old toys to bring over for him."
Buck felt fresh tears prick his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Eddie chuckled wetly. He leaned in and kissed Buck again, quick and sweet. "But I'm not wasting any more time, Evan. Life is too damn short."
Eddie pulled back, holding Buck's gaze steadily.
"How about we do what I said, and find a bigger house together?"
Buck looked at the man he loved, the man who had pulled him back from the void. He looked at Noah, that he is now a father too, who was sleeping peacefully nearby. He thought about Christopher, about Maddie, Chimney, Jee Yun and Robbie. He thought about the family he had built, the family that had survived so much together.
A warm, radiant heat spread through his healing chest.
"I would love that," Buck smiled.