Work Text:
the gun is steady,
too steady,
like bonnie has already decided,
this is how this ends.
breath thin, pulse loud in his ears,
a tear rolling down his cheek,
and then, for a second,
everything goes quiet.
somehow,
his first thought isn’t to fear for himself,
but to that he might be able to see bobby again.
if this is really it,
if the line finally runs out,
then maybe he will be there,
waiting.
buck can almost see him:
a doorway, light spilling soft and warm,
and bobby leaning there like always,
calm, certain.
“kid,” he’d say,
like nothing was lost,
like buck hadn’t spent months,
in mourning for the man,
he saw as a father.
maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,
to let go,
to rest,
to see him again.
the thought settles,
heavy, yet gentle.
but then something shifts,
because bobby,
bobby wouldn’t want this,
And buck hears it, clear as day,
you’re not done yet.
then he thinks,
he thinks of,
eddie,
steady as a heartbeat,
with his gentle courage,
and even gentler words,
that are reserved just for buck.
christopher,
brave, bright-eyed christopher,
the kid who trusts him without question,
who see’s buck like something warm,
something safe.
buck’s chest tightens,
he can’t leave them,
at least not like this.
the others rush in,
not memories,
but anchors.
athena,
unshakable, fierce,
the kind of strength that doesn’t bend,
even in the face of uncertainty.
ravi,
still finding his footing,
looking to buck,
like he’s someone worth becoming.
hen,
her hands that heal,
and her heart that never hesitates,
who reminds buck what it means
to show up fiercely,
without question.
chim,
laughter in the middle of chaos,
heart bigger than any disaster they face,
the kind of man who will stand beside you,
even when the ground is falling out beneath, your feet.
maddie,
his sister, his first home,
his constant,
the one who taught him,
everything he knows.
jee-yun,
small, bright,
her tiny hands wrapped around the world,
one that is a brighter because she’s in it.
may,
strong in a way that doesn’t ask permission,
growing into someone,
who reshapes the space around her.
harry,
resilient, strong,
a bright future still unfolding.
all of them,
his family,
woven together in sirens and late nights,
in laughter and loss,
in everything that made him stay.
they are still here.
still breathing,
still needing him.
the gun doesn’t move.
the danger doesn’t fade.
but buck does.
he shifts,
from drifting,
to rooted.
from ready to let go,
to refusing.
his chest burns now,
a small amount,
of terror stirring within him,
but not for himself,
for them.
and he thinks, fiercely, desperately:
not yet,
please, not yet.
heaven can wait.
the rest of my family is still here.
his eyes open.
and somewhere,
not ahead of him,
not behind or beside him,
but within,
bobby stands steady as ever.
not calling him home.
holding the line,
until buck can make it back.