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Life at the 118 had returned to normal—at least on the surface. Calls kept coming in, meals were shared, and Eddie had started treating Buck like his partner again. But behind Buck’s polite smile, something had snapped cleanly in two. Every time he met Eddie’s gaze, he heard the echo of the biting words thrown between two supermarket aisles, words that had pierced him more surely than any piece of shrapnel ever could.
That Thursday, at the end of their shift, Eddie approached Buck. He wore that casual, easy smile—the one of a man who thought everything had already been forgiven. Buck, meanwhile, was packing up his things, his movements slow, almost mechanical.
EDDIE (light tone, leaning against the locker beside him):
— Hey, Buck! So, I’ve got something that came up tomorrow night. A get-together with some guys from the army. You think you could swing by the house and watch Christopher? He keeps asking when you’re coming over.
Buck closed his locker. The metallic click echoed in the quiet locker room. He didn’t turn around right away, his fingers still clenched around the cold handle. A few months ago, his heart would have leapt at the request, thrilled to be useful, hungry for that bond with the kid. But today, the weight of Eddie’s accusations rested on his shoulders like a suit of lead armor.
BUCK (low voice, without the slightest hesitation):
— No, Eddie. I can’t.
Eddie frowned, confusion creasing his forehead. He straightened, thrown off by a no that had never really been part of Buck’s usual vocabulary.
EDDIE (with a nervous laugh):
— Oh yeah? You got plans or something? Is it a date? Come on, move it to Saturday, Buck. You know Chris is counting on you.
Buck finally turned around. His eyes—usually so expressive and bright—were now a steel-blue, icy cold. The familiar spark of eagerness to please was gone.
BUCK:
— I have plans, Eddie. And no, I’m not moving them.
Eddie let out a loud, irritated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. His gaze hardened, slipping into that authoritative tone he used whenever he thought Buck was “acting like a kid.”
EDDIE:
— Buck, be serious for a second. It’s just a few hours. You know I don’t have anyone else I trust with Chris. Don’t make this difficult just because you’re still a little upset about the lawsuit.
Buck took one step toward him. Just one. But it was enough to make Eddie shift back almost imperceptibly. Buck’s voice dropped an octave, low and sharp as a scalpel.
BUCK:
— Why would you want to leave him with me, Eddie?
EDDIE (jaw tightening, thrown off):
— What? What are you talking about?
BUCK:
— At the grocery store, you said I was exhausting. You said I was selfish, that I only thought about myself and that my actions were hurting your son.
Buck held Eddie’s gaze, refusing to blink. He saw the flicker of guilt ignite in his teammate’s brown eyes, but he didn’t back down.
BUCK:
— So I’m asking you: why would a “responsible” father like you want to leave his most precious treasure with someone as “unstable” and “dangerous” as me?
Eddie’s face fell apart. His mouth opened to respond, but no sound came out. Suddenly, he seemed much smaller in his uniform. Buck didn’t give him time to recover.
BUCK:
— You can’t drag me through the mud, tell me I’m a bad influence, and then two weeks later ask me to play babysitter because it’s convenient for you. If I’m what you said I was that day, then I have no business being anywhere near Christopher.
EDDIE (running a frustrated hand through his hair, exasperated):
— Okay, sorry. There, happy now? I apologize. Now will you watch Christopher? I really want to go out and clear my head.
At those apologies tossed out like spare change to a beggar, Buck let out a humorless laugh. A dry sound, devoid of bitterness, that made Eddie flinch more than a shout ever could have.
BUCK:
— “Happy now?” That’s your apology, Eddie?
Buck grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder with deliberate slowness. He looked at Eddie one last time, his gaze filled with deep sadness—but also unshakable resolve.
BUCK:
— No… But remind me, Edmundo… you told me that unlike me, you were an adult who knew how to handle his problems on his own. So be that adult. Find a solution. And leave me out of it.
Buck walked past him. The air seemed to move in his wake, leaving Eddie frozen in place.
Eddie remained standing there as the silence of the station closed around him like a reproach. He had always believed Buck’s devotion was a given, a mathematical constant. Looking at his teammate’s closed locker, he finally understood that Buck’s yes had never been automatic—they had been gifts.
Gifts he had just stopped deserving.
Buck paused one last time in the doorway, without turning around, his silhouette cut by the harsh garage lights, before leaving the station.
Outside, the cool evening wind struck his face. Buck climbed into his Jeep and shut the door. He leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. His hands trembled slightly on the leather steering wheel, a mix of relief and pure adrenaline. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t cried.
He had simply respected himself.
He pulled out his phone. A notification glowed in the dark of the cabin. A message from Nolan, in the group chat he shared with the guys from the LAPD.
Nolan:
“Great training session today! Buck, don’t forget we’re expecting you tomorrow for the barbecue. Tim says if you’re late, you’ll be doing push-ups until dawn.”
Tim:
“I’m not kidding, Buckley. Be there on time.”
Buck allowed himself a genuine smile—the first one in weeks. He could already imagine Tim Bradford’s expression if he told him he had finally stood up to the “adult” of the 118. They would be proud of him. But as he started the engine, Buck realized the most important thing was the warmth he felt spreading in his own chest.
The automatic yes was dead.
And for the first time, Buck couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
Bonus Scene: The Barbecue of New Beginnings
Nolan’s backyard was bathed in golden light and the comforting smell of grilled food. Buck stepped through the gate, a cooler in hand, his mind light. For months, he hadn’t breathed this freely; that constant pressure in his chest had finally lifted.
“Buckley! Right on time!” Nolan called out with his trademark good-guy grin. “I was just about to tell Tim to put away his stopwatch.”
Tim Bradford, leaning against the outdoor counter with a drink in hand, glanced at his watch before fixing Buck with his usual unshakable sergeant expression.
“Two minutes later and you’d be doing push-ups in the grass,” Tim muttered, though Buck caught the glimmer of humor in his eyes. “So? You look… different today. Straighter.”
Lucy Chen approached with a bowl of salad in her hands, studying Buck’s face with that cop instinct that never left her.
“He’s right,” she said. “You look like you just dropped a fifty-pound backpack, Buck. What happened?”
Buck set down the cooler and took a deep breath. Jackson West and Angela Lopez stopped their conversation to listen, while Nyla Harper, sitting a little farther away, lifted her eyes from her phone with a silent look of challenge.
“I followed your advice,” Buck said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I stopped apologizing for things I didn’t break. I said no to Eddie.”
An approving silence settled over the group. Angela let out an impressed whistle, crossing her arms.
“Finally!” she exclaimed. “I was wondering when you’d grow some claws. What did Father of the Year say?”
“He tried to guilt-trip me,” Buck admitted with a shrug. “But I reminded him of his own words at the grocery store. I told him if he thought I was so unstable, he should find someone else for his kid. He just… stood there. Speechless.”
“That’s called setting boundaries,” Nyla Harper drawled in her confident voice. “Never let anyone treat you like an option when you treat them like a priority. Good job, Buckley.”
Jackson stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder.
“We’re proud of you, man. It’s not easy standing up to people you love—even when they’re wrong.”
Suddenly, Buck’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out.
Incoming call: Eddie Diaz.
The group noticed Buck’s silence. Tim Bradford stepped closer, studying the screen with quiet intensity.
“You gonna answer?” Tim asked neutrally, as if testing a rookie.
Buck looked at the screen for a second, then at the faces of his new friends. He remembered the cold silence of the station and the sense of power he’d felt in his Jeep.
Without hesitation, he swiped the screen and pressed Decline.
Then, with a decisive motion, he turned the phone completely off.
“No,” Buck said calmly. “I’m busy with people who respect me.”
Tim slowly nodded, offering a rare sign of respect he only gave to those who had proven their worth.
“Loyalty goes both ways,” Tim said. “If the guy on the other end doesn’t know how to drive, he shouldn’t be on your road. Now come eat. You earned it.”
As Buck sat down between Lucy and Jackson, surrounded by laughter and playful jabs from Angela and Nyla, he realized he hadn’t just found allies.
He had rediscovered his own worth