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Eddie knew there was something wrong the second he opened his eyes.
The vibration of his phone on the nightstand wakes him. He sighs, fumbling for it and lifting it to his face. It’s Buck. There’s no text. Buck always texts before calling unless it’s an emergency.
"Buck?" he mumbles, answering.
"Eddie?" Buck's voice cracks.
"Buck?" Eddie throws the covers back, sitting up on the edge of his bed.
"Eddie. Um," he sounds like he's been screaming, his voice is hoarse. "Bobby. Bobby's dead."
He's dreaming.
He has to be.
"Eddie?" Buck repeats his name.
"This is a really shitty joke, Buck," Eddie snaps. This isn't real. He stands up from his bed, pacing. It can't be real.
"I'm- I'm not," Buck sniffs. He's crying, Eddie can tell.
"What the fuck do you mean?"
"We um- got called to a chemical lab-" his voice cracks again, sniffling. "There was an explosion and the disease they had in there got into the air-" a small sob escapes him. He's not fucking joking. "Bobby's hose got damaged in the explosion and he got infected. He died."
There's no way this is happening. This cannot be happening.
Eddie sinks back onto the edge of his bed, wiping at the tears that have started falling.
"I tried, Eds," he's crying now, his voice cracking. "I tried. I couldn't get them out in time."
For a split second he's taken back to when he'd run into Buck at the temporary hospital after the tsunami, the broken look on Buck's face as he was about to tell him his son was dead.
There's muffled talking on the other side of the phone, a voice that he vaguely recognises as Maddie, calling Buck's name.
Eddie doesn't know what to do. He can't listen to Buck crying anymore, so he hangs up.
His phone vibrates again. It's Maddie this time. He declines the call and tosses the phone into the pile of clean laundry across the room he still hasn’t dealt with.
He slides to the floor, a sob ripping out of him before he slams his hand over his mouth, muffling the sound so he doesn't wake up Chris.
His phone starts vibrating again. He ignores it.
☆☆☆☆☆
Eddie had never been scared of planes crashing before, he'd never been scared of flying. Not even when Buck would rant off the million and one ways a flight could go wrong, or when he'd force Eddie to watch his favourite show and one of the episodes is about plane crashes, or when, on very rare occassions, Buck would talk about rescues they did before Eddie joined the 118, one of which was a plane crash. Not even after surviving a helicopter crash in the military.
He'd never go so far as to say he liked flying, but he never hated it.
So he doesn’t understand why, when he boards the plane this time, he feels like he’s going to implode- like a snake is constricting around him, a green anaconda, he’s pretty sure Buck once said was the biggest kind. He can’t breathe.
He honestly can’t tell if he’s suddenly scared of flying, or if it’s what’s waiting for him at the end of it.
It’s been two weeks since he got the news. Two weeks since he broke down crying on his bedroom floor. Two weeks since he had to tell Chris. Two weeks since he hung up on Buck and Maddie. Two weeks since he’s talked to anyone but Chris.
Every second of the past fourteen days he’s wondered if it would’ve turned out differently if he’d been there. He doesn’t even know what happened in the lab. Maybe it would’ve been different.
He doesn’t blame the 118 for what happened- he knows them, knows they tried their best. But it’s hard not to blame someone. And if he can’t blame them, he can't help but to blame himself.
Hen has called him once or twice. He didn’t answer. He doesn’t know if she knows that he knows, but she can probably guess. He tried to call Buck once, but he didn’t answer. Which is fair. If he were Buck, he wouldn’t have answered either- hell, he’s not Buck, and he still hasn’t answered his phone.
He texted Buck his flight details yesterday. No reply yet, but he got the read receipt.
The plane lands. He makes it through security surprisingly fast, usually he hates how long it takes and complains to Buck for hours after- which is always met with a roll of his eyes and a laugh. This time however, no matter how much he willed them to, security didn't slow down.
It’s raining when the airport doors open- a light drizzle, Eddie’s favourite kind of weather. It's hard to enjoy now though.
He spots Buck’s Jeep in the parking lot. Buck is leaning against the front, kicking a rock along the asphalt. He looks drained, hollow, almost like he died in that lab along with Bobby. Buck looks up and sees Eddie, his face lights up for a moment, then drops, like he’s just remembered why Eddie’s here.
Eddie reaches the car and tosses his bag into the tray before turning to him. Buck’s been crying. He probably hadn't stopped since he'd called.
"I tried, Eddie,” his voice cracks. Before Eddie can think, he grabs Buck’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug.
It’s a horrible contrast to the last hug they shared outside Eddie’s- Buck’s- house. Back then, the worst thing they feared was never seeing each other again. Now, standing in the rain again, they’ve lost one of the most important people in their lives, and the weather makes it impossible to tell what’s rain and what’s tears.
“I know you did, Buck,” Eddie whispers, pulling him tighter. But he doesn’t know, not really. There’s still that quiet, gnawing thought in the back of Eddie's mind that if he’d been there maybe things would be different.
They stand there for a few more minutes until their shirts are soaked through, both from tears and rain.
Buck drives them home.
☆☆☆☆☆
They don’t talk for three days; not to each other, not to anyone.
Buck barely eats, Eddie notices. He’s either in the kitchen baking cookies or cakes, or shut away in his room.
The night before the funeral, Eddie sits on the couch with a beer he’s barely touched and the last of whatever cookies Buck made last, staring blankly at the wall.
He finds it hard to believe that just a few months ago he was sitting in this exact spot, Bobby across from him, talking about what the fuck he was supposed to do about Chris. Bobby had told him to do what he thought was best. That’s what he always says- said-, and somehow, every time, it made something click in Eddie’s head. He always knew what to do afterward.
Eddie regrets every time he ever snapped at him about it, afterall Bobby had only been helping. And it had helped, Eddie just hadn’t known it yet. Or the time he told Bobby he wanted to come back to the 118 because he was sick of dispatch- and he'd reminded Bobby of the fire. Bobby forgave him. Eddie never forgave himself, probably won't ever now.
There's so many things he wanted to tell Bobby. So many things over the years that he hadn't had the courage to share at the time, some things he'd only realised recently in Texas that he hadn't had the time to talk about yet.
The first time he met Bobby was after he moved to LA and finished at the academy. Bobby had contacted him personally and asked him to join the 118 instead of the other house that was looking to recruit him. He'd taken him out for coffee, told him the 118 was a family and he’d fit right in. Eddie hadn’t believed him, he'd thought it was just a recruitment tactic. But if there’s one thing that works on Eddie, it’s free coffee, so he'd obliged.
It was the best decision he'd ever made.
He regrets it every day.
If he hadn’t joined, he wouldn’t have to go to the funeral. Even if he did, it would’ve been against his will. He wouldn’t feel so awful about it. He wouldn’t feel guilty for not wanting to go. He wouldn't feel like shit for thinking his friends failed, or for not talking to his best friend for almost three weeks because of it.
If he hadn’t joined, he wouldn’t have spent the last two weeks crying himself to sleep. He wouldn’t have spent over three hundred dollars on a plane ticket back here. He wouldn’t have made these friends- and he wouldn’t have had to lose them.
A sigh sounds beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. Buck sits down next to him, beer in hand. He doesn’t say anything. Just stares at the same patch of wall Eddie’s been staring at for days.
"You okay?" Buck asks quietly, knocking his knee against Eddie's.
Eddie nods, glancing at him. He looks as bad as Eddie feels. “Horrible. But what else is new?” Buck hums, picking at the label of his beer. “You?”
Buck shrugs. Of course he’s not fine. Neither of them are.
Eddie’s mind runs through the million things he’s wanted to say to Buck the past few days, eventually landing on one. “I wish-” He cuts himself off. Buck looks at him, waiting. He’s going to regret this, but he’s started now. “I wish I was there.” He figures if anyone would understand, it’s Buck.
“I’m glad you weren’t,” Buck says quietly, looking down at his bottle, his voice rough from disuse and crying.
Eddie nods, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t belie-” The sob tears out of him before he can stop it. “He’s gone.”
He hates saying it. Saying it out loud makes it real.
Buck doesn't say anything. He gently takes the beer from Eddie's hand, setting both bottles on the table before sliding an arm around Eddie’s back.
Bobby is gone.
The thought echoes in his mind. He's gone. He's never coming back.
"I didn't even get to say fucking goodbye."
Buck pulls him closer, letting him collapse against him, rubbing slow circles into his back. Eddie’s body shakes with sobs as he cries into Buck’s chest.
He's gone.