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“Get another gurney over here!”
“E-Eddie.” Buck chokes out, finally finding his voice. He doesn’t know why it fails him this time – he’s called for Eddie, he’s wailed with his entire chest for him, when he wasn’t as pale as a sheet and laying in a pool of his own blood. The last time he saw him like this, with his half-lidded eyes and ragdoll body, he was using the last of his own breath to ask if Buck was hurt. Now, Buck can’t even say his name at more than a whimper, frozen as Chimney and Hen spring into action.
Ravi’s hand lands on his arm, brow pinched in devastated concern when Buck looks to him for a split second. He registers, distantly, that Ravi isn’t watching Eddie, but instead is directing all of his worry towards him. There’s no time to wonder why – does he not see Eddie half alive in front of them? Hell, he can barely register the image himself.
“It’s not that deep, Eddie.” Buck hears Hen say, but she’s using her paramedic voice. Her gentle comfort sets Buck immediately on edge, used to hearing that tone applied to a patient with a less than promising prognosis. Eddie can’t – Eddie can’t be dying in a hospital of all places. He’s too close to life, feet away from lifesaving equipment and personnel. He’s survived barren deserts in Afghanistan, snipers in the streets of LA, and being buried deep in the earth. He can’t die in a place meant to help people live.
With a horrifying hum, the elevator doors slowly start to close on the scene in front of them. Even with Eddie’s legs extended past the elevator and Hen’s body in the line of the doors, the mere possibility of losing his line of sight to Eddie’s labored breathing spurs Buck to action. Before he can think, he steps between the doors and presses his body against them as they retreat into the frame. Locking his knees, he digs his feet into the ground despite meeting no resistance. He isn’t losing Eddie, not again. He will hold this elevator open, and if it comes to it, he knows he will try to hold it up, for as long as his bleeding body graces it. Even if he can’t scream his name, he will use every ounce of his strength to keep him in sight and alive.
A horde of doctors and nurses run a gurney to the elevator, led by a sprinting May. Even in the wake of her mother’s uncertain fate, she still watches Eddie – and then, startlingly, she looks at Buck – with the same desperate look that Ravi wears.
Logically, Buck knows that Chim and Hen could transfer Eddie to the gurney. He knows that both them and the staff might also have ideas of how to move him properly, but he trembles with the need to do something. The elevator doors haven’t dug into his back again, so he needs to use his strength to help Eddie in some other way. Besides, no matter how much Hen and Chimney love Eddie, they’ve never held his body on the delicate brink of death. That’s intimacy that only Buck gets to know.
“I’ve got him, I’ve got him.” Buck rushes out, folding his body between Hen and Chim. Eddie’s eyes are half-open and unfocused, but his head lolls towards him as soon as he’s by his side. “Hen, Chim, I –”
“Go, Buck.” Chim urges with a nod, pulling his hand away from Eddie’s neck. With his captain’s assent, Buck doesn’t waste a second and cradles Eddie’s limp body in his arms, holding him to his chest. Hen helps Eddie fold his lax arm across his body as Buck stands, careful to support Eddie’s head as he maneuvers him through the elevator doors and onto the gurney. Carrying him bridal style offers him a front-row view of his ashen face and Buck feels bile churn in his stomach at the flashbacks that flood his mind.
The only comfort he has is that Eddie’s gurney is immediately whisked away by a team of medical professionals, rather than left to his devices in the back of a speeding firetruck. And, he notices a few long moments later, that Eddie’s blood is contained to his hands and his shirt.
“He said he was stabbed.” He registers Hen explaining, but he’s still frozen. Wordless, stuck to the floor, and staring down the hallway that his best friend was just rolled down. This evening is a blur that’s somehow screeched to a slow-motion near-stop, and all his brain supplies him is that he didn’t even try to call Eddie when Maddie told him that the hospital was on lockdown. He was so focused on Harry, coaching him through the potential loss of another parent while still trying everything they could to keep the worst from happening, that he didn’t think to check on Eddie. Since when did that stop being second nature?
“Don’t blame yourself.” Chimney, then, his voice private and strikingly soft as he sidles up next to Buck. Buck pointedly ignores that they’re both covered in Eddie’s blood. “No one could’ve known. Go wash up – Maddie’s bringing us a change of clothes.”
All he can do is nod, still voiceless. There’s a single stall restroom just by the front desk, and Buck doesn’t think twice before locking himself inside. He probably should’ve found a room where the staff washes up, but he doesn’t have the energy to make that correction. With his hands under running water, he can’t watch as it turns pink with the only remnants of Eddie that he has left in view. Instead, he stares blankly at the mirror, trying to figure out when the Buck looking back at him turned into a Buck who doesn’t check on Eddie before he’s bleeding out and alone.
Maddie knocks on the door what could be seconds or hours later. He knows it’s either her or a miraculously reanimated Eddie simply because no one else would dare to interrupt his silent, sequestered processing party. Without any hesitation, she pulls Buck into a hug the instant that she sees him, undoubtedly smearing remnants of Eddie’s blood onto her. When they break apart, it’s clear that she already met Chimney with the same lack of care for her clothes, stained in more blood than Buck has left on his shirt. Maddie will always be Maddie, and it offers Buck the slightest spark of comfort.
Buck clears his throat, reaching for the clothes she has in her hands. It’s another LAFD shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and Buck only takes the shirt from the pile. “Thanks, Mads. I’m still on shift, so –”
“Buck, I’m positive that B-shift is already covering the rest of yours.” She says gently, trying to push the sweatpants into his hands. He shakes his head, unsure of why he can’t think about taking off his uniform just yet. It’s not like his uniform enables him to act, given that he stood by and watched as Chimney and Hen ran towards Eddie. Regardless, he argues with Maddie that “Hey, look, there’s no blood on my pants, it’s just my shirt.” and “Save the sweatpants for Eddie in case surgery is faster than it’ll take me to get to his place and back –” before ice fills his veins when he realizes he has to do this again – he has to tell Chris that his dad might not make it out of that hospital bed alive. Oh, god. He has to be strong for Chris, just like he has to be strong for Theo, and he can’t ever forget to think of them like he forgot to think of Eddie –
“We have clothes for Eddie, Buck. And you’re not leaving here until he’s out of surgery and talking you out of the spiral you’ve got yourself in.” She insists, scanning over his body. “Are you hurt? I figured Howie would tell me if you were, but –”
“No – no, I’m fine.” Buck sighs, swallowing around the emotion that clenches his throat. “I didn’t even call him, Maddie, and he was bleeding out right in front of me. He needed me, and I didn’t even wonder where he was until it was all over and he didn’t meet us in the lobby.”
Maddie squeezes his arm. “You shoulder a lot of responsibility in the 118, Evan. I got the rundown from the others, and it sounds like you were operating as Harry’s only source of support while also apprehending an active shooter faster than SWAT could. You had more than a lot to think about.”
“But I –” Buck stops, mouth dry. “It’s Eddie, Maddie.”
“I know.” Maddie looks at him with more gravity than he can process at the moment. It’s not the first time he’s seen this look – he’s noticed it flitting across her features more frequently as of late. He saw it when she hugged Eddie longer and harder than she did Buck upon their return from New Mexico, whispering something in his ear that had Eddie smiling but evading her gaze for the rest of the time she was at Buck’s house. She carried it through his withdrawal and recovery, bouncing it between him and Eddie every time she would relieve Eddie from an overextended late-night shift at his bedside. He can’t – he can’t think about what it means, but he also can’t ignore that Eddie seems to be the common denominator in its pattern.
“He won’t be upset, and he knows how much you love him.” She continues, glancing pointedly to his clean shirt. “I brought a bag for your dirty clothes.”
Buck nods, stripping his shirt over his head so he can deposit it in the plastic bag Maddie pulls from her purse. His limbs feel soupy, almost like how Eddie’s looked as he laid limp in his arms, hands shaking as he re-tucks the new shirt. Maddie’s hand grasps his when he drops them to his sides, a substitute for another hug that would inevitably dirty his fresh clothes.
“C’mon. Let’s get you set up in the waiting room. Hen said that he should be out soon.”
A flare of hope, sickeningly warm, flourishes in his chest. “But – the blood, there was so much blood, a-and he was so pale, Maddie, I’ve seen him look like that before, and –”
“Hey, hey. Breathe.” Maddie instructs, giving him a moment to take a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice comes out even and gentle. “She said that it wasn’t in the right spot to do any major damage, and it wasn’t very deep. The nurse we spoke to said it’ll only take an hour or two to get him through surgery.”
“Oh.” Buck’s shoulders drop, bone-deep exhaustion spreading through his heavy body. “I… I couldn’t tell, not with what I could see, I just – okay. Yeah. That’s good.”
“We also told the nurse that you’d be waiting for him.” She adds in a tone that echoes the same gravity of her eyes. “She’ll have more information for you when you’re ready.”
Nodding, Buck sucks in another long breath before he nods toward the door. “I – I’m good. Thank you, really.”
“Of course, Evan. I love you.” She squeezes his hand once more before leading him out the door, directing him to sit amongst the remaining 118 members in the waiting room.
******
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Eddie.” His name leaves Buck’s lips in a rush of air, more broken than it sounded when the elevator opened just hours earlier. “Eddie, I –”
“Ah –” Eddie lifts his arm, slow from his body still adjusting to being awake and repaired. “I said that I don’t want to hear it. You’re already blaming yourself, Buck.”
His accusation lands far from it becoming another one of Evan Buckley’s Trials and Tribulations, coming out fond and laced with softness that Eddie saves for when Buck’s at his most vulnerable and insecure. Eddie meets his eyes, dark circles deep under them, but Buck could cry at the sight of any color tinging his face. “The nurses briefed me as soon as I was conscious enough to understand. I was stuck in an elevator, Buck, after I had stalked off to force my anger onto God. It didn’t work, by the way. I was still angry, even after I heard that Athena was going to pull through.”
“But, I –” Buck opens and closes his mouth as he searches for the words. “I scared myself, Eddie. I didn’t ask where you were until the rest of us were together –”
“In our line of work, it’s better to assume that we’re all able to handle whatever hand we’re dealt in an emergency situation.” Eddie says carefully. “That doesn’t mean we don’t look out for each other, but you trusted that the rest of our team was also working to help Athena. You didn’t forget me, you just assumed I was capable. If we didn’t assume that… we’d go crazy, Buck.”
“I guess.” Buck murmurs, reluctant. “I just… you fought so hard to get to me in New Mexico, and I – I couldn’t get to you here.”
Eddie sighs. “Buck, I wouldn’t have been able to go to New Mexico if I had died during one of the many times you’ve saved my life. Today wasn’t my time, and I’m glad you didn’t have to go through the trauma of having my life in your hands again. God knows I’d love to never have to watch you stop breathing again, but I also know that I’ll save you as many times as I need to. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”
“I just wish you weren’t alone.” Buck confesses, hand twitching with the urge to reach out and pull Eddie’s into his. Instead, he keeps it wrapped in his other hand, trapped in his lap. “I don’t want to think about what –”
“Then don’t, Buck. I’m here, and you heard the doc, I’ll be right as rain in no time.” Eddie cracks a smile, tilting his head. “You’d think that a guy with that much rage would stab someone a little harder, but hey. I’m not complaining.”
“Jesus, Eddie.” Buck huffs out an incredulous laugh in spite of it all. “God, I – I just. Yeah. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too, bud.” Eddie nods. “Think you could manage a few bedside shifts at my place in the next few weeks? You could read me the second book in the series we started.”
Buck snorts, inexplicable warmth flooding his body. “You are perfectly capable of reading a book, but if that’s what you want…”
“Mm, it’ll sound better in your voice.” Eddie jokes, grinning all bright and easy. Buck can’t hold his gaze, ducking his chin as his cheeks glow. “Can I tell you something without you getting upset?”
“No promises.” Buck says honestly, gut twisting. Eddie looks apologetic, but an urgent sort that needs to be acted on before it can dissipate.
“When I was stuck in the elevator, things started to get a bit foggy.” Eddie begins, and panic buzzes so loud in Buck’s ears that it’s almost impossible to hear what he’s saying. “But I did the only thing I could think to do – what I was taught to do when I’m having a panic attack. I named five things I could see, four things I could touch, and when I got to three, I thought about what I could hear.”
Eddie catches his eye, and somehow, the look in them mirrors Maddie’s. It translates to something even more terrifyingly meaningful on him. “I could hear Chris’ voice in my head, but then – all I could hear was you, Buck. I couldn’t even hear a third thing because you were so goddamn loud, and I just heard you. I don’t know what you said, but I heard you laughing, I heard you talking, I heard the voice you use for the kids, and – it helped me stay with it long enough for those elevator doors to open again.”
“Oh.” Buck breathes, stunned to silence yet again. “E-Eddie, I –”
“Even if you weren’t there physically, you were there, Buck. I wasn’t alone. You –”
The curtain surrounding his recovery space disappears, revealing a smiling nurse holding a tray of bland-looking hospital food. “Your dinner, Mr. Diaz. Take it slow if you feel nauseous, but you’re cleared to eat as normal.”
“Thank you, Anjalie.” Eddie smiles politely, but Buck reads right through his niceties. Eddie’s almost glaring at the poor excuse of a meal, and even if he hides a laugh at his predictability, he automatically starts mentally meal prepping Eddie’s favorite meals that he makes for when he comes home.
As soon as Anjalie is out of earshot, curtain pulled across for some semblance of privacy, Eddie openly glares at the tray. “Three days. I can’t do this for three days.”
Three days, Buck thinks. I will be here for every single one.