Chapter Text
The nightmares are getting more frequent. It moved in the quiet spaces of consciousness, shifting into multiple voices that were equally condescending and alluring, which somehow makes the entire experience worse.
There was no warmth in its call, portraying itself as a rageful siren on a mission to pursue revenge. It didn’t make sense, the rapport was lost in the wind. It didn’t need to be caught because the nightmares were flashes of memories, of something so viscous that some nights Buck would jolt awake with a scream lodged deep in his throat almost suffocating.
Most nights, he’d wake with an unshakeable chills that ended with Buck curling on the corner of the couch with muffled sobs and an aching need to cut every living organ out of their place and rearrange them until they felt right again.
If Eddie finds him in that uncomfortable fetal position, he doesn’t say. Eddie wakes up early and by the time Buck opens his eyes and stretches out the sore muscles, the brunette is already in the kitchen brewing coffee.
Tonight was no different. Chim had given him an extra two days off to heal with the ruse of recovering. It’d already been a month of grueling hits of ups and downs; however, the lows were kept hidden to share with the silence during the night. Buck masked the anguish, trying to unclench the burdens that latched to his heart. He tried to shake off the bittersweet aftermath of reliving something that had never been easy to swallow.
His childhood. Daniel. His parents grief and neglect.
But, with any existing injuries, internal and not, all healed, Buck had to put more effort in maintaining the outward demeanor because it’s around the time where Buck should be at full health, capable of doing a job that's more physically demanding.
He's spent so long away from the rest of the 118, Buck's worried that they'll be able to sense the shitstorm that'll be dragged in one extra place that's not Eddie's home.
The spouts of energy should restore itself back to full strength, the accustomed spark they swallow up whenever they’re graced with Buck's presence should light back up like it never extinguished to begin with.
And sure, his leg is still injured in some regard. Bonnie had pressed the taser into the skin of the leg that's prone to injuries all thanks to a firetruck that any hope of aching limps and mild tremors that follows on an off day vanishes. He’ll have to manage the twinges of sharp pain like someone’s digging their honed canines into his shin for the remainder of life.
Nevermind the pain meds the doctor sent home with them. The bottles were almost empty, just enough to get Buck through the expected recovery time. The doctor explicitly stated that the dose was it and any chance cost of refills were futile.
The doctor advised against it when Buck asked about after? The man stated an addictive med that would surely take Buck down a path away from recovery and given outcomes and signs, they took initiatives to prevent addictions from occurring. That didn’t settle Buck’s nerves, there was something in his brain that rose when he first got a dose.
Buck ignored the spark of guilt and shoved it down where it'd remain unprocessed and discarded.
And yet after all this, Buck can’t discern the chances of normalcy returning. Of feeling normal in his body knowing the purpose of his life has been to replace Daniel’s life and somehow, a replacement for Bonnie’s dead son. Buck still can’t face it, the stampede awaiting to cross the line.
As long as the stampede remains on the other side, unwilling to tumble out of its herd, Buck can easily brush it off. He’s okay, fine, perfect. Surely, that’s gotta be true because it’s not persistent — except maybe the nightmares but nevermind that.
On the other hand, it’s more draining — all the convincing Buck has to do with Eddie and Maddie and the rest of the team — than sitting in the dark, at the same time every night, recomposing himself from the startling nightmare that woke him up like routine work. Dealing with the trauma alludingly felt better than talking.
Talking, talking, talking. It’s always talking. What more is there to say than a crazy but very much grieving woman, had her ex-husband run them off the road just so they could kidnap Buck. Only to lock the blond up and force him to be Derek.
The more times Buck retold the story, the more times it started to jumble into this one big blur of incoherent words and a part of him detaching from it altogether.
“Talking about it helps,” Eddie had told him, when they first walked into his house with Chris snoozing on the couch with Tia Pepa on the other end, reading a book under the soft light of the yellow lamp.
Buck grunted, beelining to Eddie’s bedroom to crash. They were both equally exhausted but the past ten hours had been nothing but stilling silence, replaying the accident, and the 6 hours after that.
Buck couldn’t bring himself to face either Chris or Tia Pepa, even when Buck heard the sleepy voice of Chris speaking to Eddie.
Now, Buck sat on the couch with a sheen all over his body. He lightly panted with his heart pounding drastically. Buck took note of the picture frames, blinking away the images of Bonnie hugging Derek.
“My name is Buck,” He murmured quietly, blinking the blur and the fog away. The pictures reframed itself into Eddie with Chris, then Buck with Chris and then all three of them together, all warm grins, big and wide across their faces. Not quite looking at the camera but getting there.
Buck pushed himself back on the couch, pressing his palms deeper into the cushion of the couch. The weight of the night, with Eddie somewhere out there and Chris in his room hung heavily in the shrill silence.
Buck needed noise. A change, a panicked twinge zapped in the spaces of room while he tried to remind himself that he wasn’t there anymore. Buck stood on weak legs, the injured one nearly folding in itself but wobbled to the front door anyway, forcing it open, to make sure it did.
The door gave without effort, the lock unclicking and the humidness of the wind surging into the quiet, dark home. There were houses, side by side with parked cars of various brands. Few windows were dimly lit and shadows shifted in its space. Buck breathed out heavily, shutting his eyes to relax into the atmosphere, the liveliness of the neighborhood even if the city began to rest.
The door didn’t have bars and the windows didn’t have them either and his name is Buck. His name is Evan Buckley and he doesn’t know Bonnie and he doesn’t know who Derek is. And Buck is safe, surrounded by the Diaz furniture and their calming scent. Buck imagines like it’s giving a hug, whispering the sweet promises that Buck thinks would taste of honey nectar.
Buck is not there anywhere, still, his heart is wedged deep in his throat.
Home, safe. This is home, this is safe. Buck is safe.
“Buck?” Christopher’s groggy voice vibrates between the clicks of crutches hitting the floor. The blonde nearly flinches with the momentary interruption but welcomes it all the same after processing the familiarity.
Sometimes Buck imagines if Eddie hadn’t found him in time, Buck would be stuck there forever and inevitably, all memories or recognition of the Diaz’s erased. Like they never —
Buck turns after a beat, redirecting the door to shut softly only to find Chris standing by the couch, squinting through sleepy eyes. The blonde notes that the kid isn’t wearing his glasses.
Clearing his throat to rid the rasp Buck shifts once the lock turns over. “Hey buddy, why’re you up so late?”
Chris yawns, angling until he leans on the couch instead of the crutches loosely hanging off Chris’s arms. “I was thirsty…are you..okay?”
Buck blinks, glancing back at the shut out world and moving to flicker on the lamp. Buck’s not sure what to say, he’s not even sure Chris fully knows what happened when they were at New Mexico and Buck finds the thought of Chris finding out horrifying.
“Yeah…yeah bud. I’m good, I’ll get you some water?” Buck gestures to the kitchen and scrambles to grab a glass and fills it up with liquid. He attempts at recovering any semblance of composure the kid could've missed but with how close they've gotten — Chris barely leaving Buck's side since returning, he's not sure if he'll ever — it wouldn't be shocking if Chris could sense the turmoil buzzing underneath his skin.
Chris smiles slightly when Buck returns with a glass full of iced water, sloshing at the edges when it's handed into shaky hands. “Don’t….lie…Dad and I…made a promise…to never lie…” is what is conveyed after a few sips, hitting straight through Buck's sternum.
If there could be a wishing well planted in the center of the room, too many wishes would go into Buck taking the opportunity to fly. The concept of being held to a similar — if not equivalent — promise Chris made with Eddie bares more gravity than they could ever know. But it's not the time to dive deep into the scenario so Buck shuffles back against the wall, witnessing the seconds tick by as Chris stands there, shifting between two feet while he chugs the remainder of the drink.
The clock reads thirty minutes until it’s three and Buck envisages the slight aversion Eddie detains at learning that Chris is awake and trudging towards the living room.
Sighing, the blond runs a hand through his curls and follows in pursuit, the inability to sternly demand bedtime felt too reinforcing. He'd like to think that he'd be the cooler dad. Smiling lightly at the kid patting the cushion beside him, Buck falls into it with no hesitation.
"Well?" Christopher says at last.
“I couldn’t sleep is all.” Buck decides on, slowly nodding as he plucks the discarded notebook he's been scribbling some future plans in hopes of decompressing and processing the jumble of his thoughts. "Decided to write some facts for you." He holds up the book so Chris can get an idea of the multitude of information they could potentially exchange.
Chris smiles at that but like Eddie, doesn't deter.
“Dad said to make…. sure you sleep on his… bed instead of the couch.” Chris mumbles, maneuvering until his legs are resting against the coffee table. Buck mimics the action, pushing further back into the cushion to elevate some weight off the leg.
Buck wants nothing more to lie, to say something along the lines of the message not getting back to Eddie. Truth is, despite the scents and the warmth radiating off of a matter too close to home, a misplaced tremor rattles Buck at the thought of taking up space.
Instead, with a merely shrugs, says with mock confidence, “I like the couch. Plus, your dad would just end up kicking me off the bed when he gets home. You know how he likes his space.” Which is a complete lie if Buck’s ever heard one. Eddie wouldn’t shun Buck, never would the man even dare. Eddie would slide in next to the space on the opposite side of the bed, hog up majority of the blanket, and fall asleep like that’s the normal thing to do.
Like it's simple.
“The couch…is uncomfortable.” Chris counters, patting the cushion with consideration of the tension between every jostle of springs.
“It’s not. It’s perfect.” Buck hums, winking over at Chris who's forcing down a smile through a shake of curls, glasses slipping down in his nose Buck's quick to fix.
“You bare...ly fit.” Chris says matter of factly.
“I do,” Buck tries to lean more towards the easy going tone but the complexity wrapped around normal banter leaves him disproportionate. After staring through the bars as Bonnie tried to convince herself that Buck was more to her than another stranger. Clearing the lump found deep in his throat, Buck pulls his legs to rest against the coffee table and digs his thumb into the palm of his hands in an effort at grounding.
Instead of continuing, like Buck half expects, half needs, Christopher just slumps back into the cushion with a tired sigh. “Buck,” It is three in the morning so Buck results in listening.
His muscles relax against the pillow when Chris's hand lands on his shoulder. With another firm squeeze, Buck grabs the blankets and pushes it over their laps. Buck wants to dissect the brain of this fifteen year old kid because despite everything, it feels like yesterday that Buck met Christopher and processing then and now is beginning to warp any tying events to a current reality.
“Denny…told me…something happened to…you.” Christopher’s eyebrow pinches together and whatever air that remains in Buck’s chest completely liquidates at the admission. Denny must’ve overheard Hen talking about it. Buck squeezes his eyes shut, warding off the herd of memories threatening to resurface, to cross over the firm line.
Chris was never supposed to know, to the full extent. Never and it's been confirmed that he does and Buck doesn't know how to orient himself, too consumed in the jostle of being too exposed.
“Oh,” Buck can manage, wanting a distraction, a way out. Maybe, wishing too, that the wall opens up and swallows them both into its void. There's no coming back out, making it to the other side because Buck's in too deep. The waters are murky and if he's swimming up to the surface, there's no way of telling.
But the last thing Buck wants is to drag Christopher into a world that’s off balance, lacking the necessary light that a person needs to thrive. Into a spiral that's one shove away from being completely over the edge with the inability to put together any cracked pieces. There's no mending a heart that's been broken too many times.
Sure there’s comfort and there’s the safety of Diaz's home that bears the presence of the man constantly. The frames on the wall contain pictures of Buck as well as the subtle hints of furniture that subtly announced that 'Buck is here.'
“I don't..know what happened,” The kid inhales sharply, as if spending time in the room working himself up to comfort Buck was years ago, “But…I heard….that it wasn’t fun…”
“Chris.” Buck pauses, licking over chapped lips that stings from the constant worry, digging the thumbnail into rough skin, indents forming through white coloring.
Christopher shakes his head which pauses Buck in his train of fumbling thoughts. He retracts his hand from Buck's shoulder that the blond almost argues, missing the warmth, the physical connection between them.
“I…had nightmares…after the tsunami…” Christopher glances up at Buck. "I know...it's not the same...but.."
Buck tries not to flinch. Tries to exorcise the whole experience out of existence because the recalling moments of a weakness ever so present between spaces of muscles and gushing out veins, on top of blistering hot panic propelling his body forward, it'd been expected for the kid to bare some hauntings. It didn't help the guilt, the one that surged itself up through Buck's entire nervous system.
Sure, a pleasant woman managed to pick Christopher off where he washed up and handed him back to Eddie but Buck will never forget the look on Eddie’s face. It'd been all wounded, heart caught somewhere in his throat, the momentary detachment of the present moment — ‘Christopher is my life’ as said before — just as Buck’s fighting to prevent Eddie’s world from blowing up entirely.
And Buck will never, never forgive himself for losing Chris in the first place. To bringing them to the pier, all because Buck mourned a functioning leg and the capabilities of being a firefighter. Even now, shame surges up in snippets, puncturing claws at Buck’s throat as he tries to force the tears at bay. He refuses to make this worse for Chris, he refuses to cry.
"You...being there.. made it better." Chris nudges Buck out of his temporary daze. He blinks, sitting straighter and glanced at Eddie's kid.
"What?" Buck blinks like a fish out of water.
Chris snorts at the sight, leaning forward to stifle a yawn. "Seeing you...talking to you...made bedtime easier. Those...nights...I didn't have nightmares. It was..because you were...safe."
Buck's breath hitches, body stilling. Eddie didn't talk much about how it all affected Chris, the countless phone calls or silent pleas at staying over just so Chris could rest easy. Chris never mentioned it either, granted he was still young, unable to fully communicate or process but Buck never once stopped to think. The following events prevented that and the weeks of not seeing Chris made Buck even more restless, Buck not once considered the chance that Chris needed him on a higher level.
"Y-Yeah, takes a lot to get rid of me." Buck breathlessly humors, bumping their shoulders together.
Chris smiles shortly after, "You ...were my safety....you kept me...safe."
"I didn't—" Buck voice cracks, tears beginning to well up through his eyes.
"But you did....Buck, you save..saved me." Chris scoots over, leaning towards his Buck and attempts at wrapping his hand over broad shoulders. "I fel..feel closer to you....I can't imagine...living without you. You're too important to me Buck..." Chris finishes and Buck tries not to let the desolation of his mind break this sweet moment they're sharing but the tears won't stop spilling.
They slide down his cheeks, hot and heavy and the shaky breath that Buck exhales only causes the arm around him to tighten.
"You're important to me too." Buck whispers, pulling Chris into a side hug with smile displayed softly through the low illumination of the lamp that slightly flickers.
Chris laughs but adamantly shakes his head. Which confused Buck but he remains listening because Chris inhales sharply.
“You’re…important…you have been the only …con…sistent person in my life Buck besides my …dad.” Chris declares with such vehemence it’s difficult for Buck to even attempt to maintain still. "You're like ... a parent my dad's ... been trying to find." Chris emphasizes rapport, a desperation at being understood hidden that Buck easily spotted. He was nervous to admit, a fear Buck’s never quite known the kid to hold.
Still, Buck blinks dazed from the onset of emotions rushing in stampedes. It’s bordering on too much. “What?”
His heart outright stops beating for a second. The room winds down to a calm and it’s almost like it’s placating the previous persistent tension. However, as quick as it leaves, it returns because Chris…what is Chris even saying to him right now?
He blinks past the fog, desperate to catch Christopher's aphorism, precariously leaning closer to squint past the mist because unconsciously, it’s crucial that Buck’s listening. The way their relationship feels more connected, deeper than whatever dynamic a man like Buck holds with his best friend's kid.
Chris looks almost shy to repeat himself but he does, leaning more into Buck's warmth, “You…like…you’re like another...dad of mine…” Chris clarifies with finality that it shakes Buck to his core. The dull ache benched through skin and bones reawakens with fresh vibrations, the familiar bubble of awe, endearment, and explosive love reigniting like fireworks.
The words jostle inside Buck’s mind, any attempt at holding back the muffled snivel that wrenches out of a pained heart is futile.
Buck discerns the thin layer of dampness puddling on his shirt as Chris’s tears if the kid curling up at his side is anything to go by. Buck can’t bring himself to mask it anymore because it hurts too much to hide. The pure happiness that shines through radiating hope clings hastily, in the form of Christopher Diaz who’s always, to some extent, felt like his.
Christopher had always felt like a son to him that often more than not, sat with the thought for so long that it accommodated Buck's need to coddle, care and hold Chirs closer to his heart.
But now it’s real and Chris just—
“I love you.” Buck mumbles because words are unsuccessful through the intensity a bundled ball of emotion could have. Buck shifts until they’re angled in a way that Chris easily falls between long legs and into a broad chest, wrapping his arms around his favorite Buckley.
“I’m…proud of you…for coming..back…to us.” Christopher whispers and Buck manages to choke back a wrecked sob, squeezing the kid who’s basically his kid tighter, refusing to let go. There will never be a moment to arise where Buck will ever discard Chris like he means nothing. Reluctant to release him, Buck pushes the thought of sacrificing himself when Eddie knocks on Bonnie’s door. With the belief, a resonating resolve to protect, protect, protect Chris’s heart from all the way in New Mexico, tied to a pole with a theoretical — maybe reality if Eddie’d been second later — gun aimed between sullen deep blue eyes.
Buck hadn’t anticipated — it hadn’t crossed his mind, not even for an instance — Chris' need for a parental figure extended him just as much as it did for Eddie. As much as Eddie filled in the role for Chris, he needed Buck—
“You ….you are like..the missing puzzle…finishing piece…you make us whole again.” Chris lifts himself up off of Buck’s chest and lands a gently, slightly trembling hand to caress Buck’s stubble. Buck swoons, a shaky smile lifting over bitten over lips. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Not in front of th-your kid.
And it does feel like a gap in his chest being sealed, like a puzzle piece slotting back into place. If you asked Buck what that felt like, he’d tell you, in weeks time when he’s ready to deal with the trauma with the assistance of Chris’s sunshine and Eddie’s stubborn persistence, that it’s like breathing for the first time after drowning for so long.
Because in the fullness of time that flutters on occasion like a blip, Buck feels whole again. Buck’s sense of belonging is slotted firmly in place in the home of the Diaz’s.
As he ushers Chris back into bed, tucking the blankets underneath his chin and landing a gentle kiss Buck hopes conveys all the parental love he’s felt prior, Buck feels rejuvenated, lighter.
And if Eddie sees Buck a sobbing mess when he comes home while clutching the picture frame that reveals all of them together as a family, it doesn’t waver Eddie’s momentum when he sits next to Buck and pulls him close to his chest.
“You’re okay…let it out.” Eddie mumbles through the curls of Buck’s matted down hair, running a hand up and down his back as Buck clings to Eddie without an afterthought.
“He called me-he said..I make us whole.” Buck shifts slightly, lifting up his legs so it’s no longer flat on the floor and peaks up at Eddie through wet eyelashes.
Eddie grins, pressing down another kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Yeah, Buck. You do make us whole. I’ve never even thought about it, that’s how right this feels.”
“You don’t care?” Buck blinks, a little dumb and in Buck’s defense, the situation feels almost false, like another dream that has looped in reality into it.
Eddie frowns, shaking his head. “Not one bit. In fact, I’m glad he feels he has another person on the same level as me to lean on just as I do because you are my partner.” If Eddie shows any hint of shock at his own words, he doesn’t express it but Buck senses the unconscious nag that’s been grating since ages.
With startling clarity, Buck realizes one thing as he settles back down onto Eddie’s chest and hiccups, sniffling slightly as miniature sets of cries escape past quivering lips, attempting to calm down from the absolute storm that was tonight.
Eddie and Chris were his home and no, Maddie, it wasn’t so crazy afterall.
That even if it takes years, Buck can feel like himself again. The possibility arises itself in the form of Eddie and Chris standing at the end of a darkened room with open arms, radiating all the warmth and love.
That it hadn’t been an error in the system when Tommy walked away or when Maddie abandoned him or when their parents sneered and lectured and turned their backs on them. That meant nothing significant about him when Abby departed to another country and got engaged later on without a proper confirmed breakup. That the system wasn’t broken when all his Ex’s slammed the door in his face that resulted in utter disorientation, that it said nothing on Buck’s character.
That there was another chance, Buck deserved to get another taste of family and recreate a brand new life with Eddie and Christopher right there by his side.
“You’re not alone anymore Buck and you should not ever question that. You belong here, with us and there will always be a home for you here, Cariño. You’re the person we’ve been lookin’ for, our family.” Eddie whispers nuzzling into Buck’s curls, a ghost of a smile sensed through the words.
If Buck's breathing temporarily comes to a halt or the tears begin to prickle back up, he makes no move to forsake the misplaced warmth — even if it has a right to be. Instead, he burrows further into Eddie’s chest and breathes in the scent of safety and home.