Chapter Text
“I’m leaving the 118.” Eddie announces, and Buck’s entire life is thrown completely sideways by it.
“Do you not trust me anymore?” Buck asks later, when it's just the two of them. He knows he sounds desperate, but he can’t understand why Eddie would do this. “Did I do something?”
“No, Buck, that’s not what this is about,” Eddie reassures, or tries to, at least. “I just need to be safer for Christopher.”
And Buck can never fault him for that, but surely, there has to be another way. Buck leaves the party that night hoping that Eddie will change his mind. That next time he sees Eddie at the station, he’ll say ‘actually, I changed my mind’.
But no, Eddie means it. No amount of reasoning or reassuring sways his mind, and two weeks after his announcement at the Christmas party, Eddie clocks out of Station 118 for the last time.
“Hey, this isn’t the end for us,” Eddie promises on the last day, as he clears out his stuff from their shared locker. Buck says nothing. He can’t even muster up the spirit to agree, because that’s it. Four years of partnership, and Eddie is just leaving. All of that talk about ‘you’re stuck with us’ and then he goes and does this.
And perhaps the worst part is that Buck can’t help but feel that this has been building for a while. They’ve drifted apart recently, even Buck can see that, and contrary to popular belief, he can actually tell when he’s not wanted.
So, Buck just storms up to the loft, ignoring Hen’s kind, sad eyes and Bobby’s concerned ones. He sits at the table, his eyes drawn to the empty chairs, and wonders, not for the first or last time, what about him isn’t worth sticking around for.
***
Buck would be a liar if he said things between him and Eddie weren’t really tense for a while.
Eddie ends up becoming a dispatcher, and objectively, Buck can see that it’s a fantastic fit for him. He gets to use his medic knowledge, and still helps people without any of the danger of being on the scene.
The small, selfish part of Buck desperately misses his partner, but the larger part of him is just relieved. Relieved that Eddie is out of danger, relieved that he’ll never have to go home to Chris and explain that he failed to keep his dad safe.
But the selfish part of him is louder, and it’s angry.
It’s misplaced anger, and Buck knows it’s completely unfair. It’s his emotions getting the better of him, and he needs to sort it out before he does something he can’t take back.
Ultimately, that’s how he justifies the distance he puts between himself and Eddie. That he’s just trying to sort out his own mess of feelings about the whole situation, and that he just needs some time for things to settle.
So, when Buck gets a text like,
From - Eddie (ICE) [14:21]: Hey, do you want to come over tonight? Movies and pizza?
He replies with,
To - Eddie (ICE) [14:25]: Sorry, I have plans with Taylor.
He categorically does not have plans with Taylor that particular night, but Eddie doesn’t know that, and it serves its purpose.
Weeks pass like this, and instead of settling into anything, or sorting out fuck all, his anger simmers, and starts to fester. He and Eddie go from seeing each other almost every day to barely even seeing each other at all.
The only reason they see each other at all is because Buck makes time to see Chris. He still picks him up from school sometimes, or drops by while Carla is there to help with his homework. Whatever happens between him and Eddie, he’s determined not to let his own petty bullshit hurt Chris again. Even then, they’re fleeting moments, never more than a few minutes at a time.
(If Buck’s being honest, he knows exactly what’s going on here. He can practically hear Dr. Copeland’s voice in his head, telling him that this is a maladaptive attempt at self preservation. That he’s pushing Eddie away on purpose, leaving Eddie before Eddie can leave him.
Buck knows it’s bad. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and self destructive to boot. But, he can’t seem to make himself stop. Maddie left again, Chim followed, and now Eddie's left him too, and he's the only common denominator he can see. How long until it's Athena? Or Bobby?)
If Eddie ever notices, he says nothing.
***
All of Buck’s unresolved issues finally come to a head on a call.
It's a huge five-alarm fire at an office complex, the building already ablaze by the time they get there. Eddie is on their radio line, helping direct them to people still trapped in the building.
Buck should find his voice reassuring, like he has his back on a call again. Instead it just puts him on edge, every staticky word just a reminder of the distance between them.
Bobby has just called for the team to evacuate when Buck hears something, a crumbling crack and low bellow, then something like a whimper - it’s probably nothing he isn’t already prepared for. After all, buildings make all kinds of noises like that as they go down.
But he can’t just leave without checking.
“Buck, status?” Bobby’s voice crackles through his radio.
“I’m in the northeast quadrant of the fifth floor,” Buck replies, as he quickly checks the offices one last time, “I’m doing one last sweep, I think I heard something.”
“That part of the building is unstable, I need you out now.” Bobby replies, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Buck is good at his job. He can tell that this building is minutes away from collapse. He can feel the intense heat of the fire, even through all of his turnout gear, and can hear the ominous creaking noises the building is beginning to make.
But still. What if there’s someone there?
“I’ll be out in a minute, I just have to check.”
“Buck.” This time it’s Eddie’s voice that echoes through, edged with concern. “You need to leave.”
“I know, I’m almost done,” Buck replies, exasperated, because it’s a little rich of Eddie to make comments like that when he’s not even here to see or hear any of it for himself. He checks the last of the offices down the hall, and satisfied that they’re truly empty, begins to make his way to the exit. “Buck to Captain Nash, I’m—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because the section of floor beneath him caves.
He’s thankfully half off the section, so he manages to grab a hold of the edge on his way down, catching himself. He slams into a support beam, hitting his chest and jarring his shoulder, but it slows him just enough that when he lets go, he lands, stumbling to his knees on the floor below.
It’s a hard landing, but overall a safe one, all things considered.
Buck pushes himself to his feet, groaning. He takes stock of himself. He’s winded, sore, and his heart is hammering with adrenaline, because that could have been so much worse. But, by some miracle that seems to be the extent of his injuries.
Through his radio, he can hear Eddie’s panicked voice, “Buck? Can you hear me?”
“I’m okay,” Buck manages to wheeze out. “Floor caved. Coming out now.”
“Buck, stay where you are,” Bobby commands. “We’re sending someone to—”
“No need,” Buck cuts in. The building isn’t safe, and no one from the team should come back in. Buck forces himself to move, sucking in a pained breath as he does so, and heads towards the exit. “I’m fine.”
With all the noise around Buck, it's hard to tell what Eddie's tone is through the crackling radio, but it's some cross of fear and aggravation. "Buck? Are you hurt? You sound like you're hurt. You're hurt, aren't you? Just stay there—"
"I said I'm fine," Buck snaps. He's perfectly aware he just proved everyone right with his recklessness once again. There’s no need to rub it in.
Despite his assurances that he’s not injured, Chim and Ravi meet him anyway, helping Buck out into the fresh air and straight towards one of the ambulances. Hen checks him over, her hands experienced and gentle, and after a few minutes, she seems satisfied.
“Looks like today was your lucky day, Buckaroo,” Hen says, sounding more than a little bit surprised. “You have some bruised ribs, and you might want to keep ice on your shoulder, but you don’t seem to have any other injuries aside from that.”
“How?” Chim asks, although he sounds more concerned than anything else. “You fell through the floor.”
“I did, but caught myself and landed right,” Buck says, before turning to Bobby, who has been standing there watching the whole time. “Told you I was fine.”
Bobby rolls his eyes, but Buck can tell that he’s relieved. “We’re going to talk about this, Buck.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buck replies, because he knows the drill by now. He does something reckless, Bobby lectures him for it, and then he’s on dish duty or inventory for a week or two.
A moment later, Eddie’s voice cuts through the radio, “Bobby, is he–?”
“All firefighters present and accounted for, dispatch,” Bobby replies, “No serious injuries.”
There's a relieved sigh and exhale-through-the-nose type laugh that usually signifies that there's nothing actually funny happening, then Eddie says, "Jesus, you scared me. You need to be more careful, Buck."
What happens next isn't Buck's proudest moment, and he's not even entirely sure why he does it at all. Maybe it's because he's still shaking with adrenaline, aching and freshly bruised, smoke still heavy in his lungs. Maybe it’s because Chim's been back a week and still hasn't said a word to him.
But then, it could be that Buck's genuinely struck dumb by Eddie's audacity - that Eddie feels owed anything at all from him, that he thinks he can talk to Buck like that after leaving him the way everyone else has and does and will - it makes venom bubble up into his throat, hot and acrid.
"Firefighter Buckley to Dispatcher Diaz," he starts, his knuckles white on the radio, something mean and furious trying to burst its way out of his chest, "You don't get to say shit like that to me anymore."
There's a pause, a soft crackle in the carrier wave that lasts long enough that Buck begins to think he actually didn't say anything out loud.
Then Eddie's voice comes through. "...what?"
"Don't act like you have my back," Buck says - definitely out loud this time, his aggravation building, "You don't. So, you don't get to say shit like that to me - don't act like that with me anymore."
Eddie has the gall to sound indignant when he replies, "Excuse me?"
"Buck," Bobby warns, but Buck ignores it.
“I’m sorry, I was just surprised that we’re actually talking again.” Eddie hisses, his tone just as acidic.
"Oh, shut up," Buck spits back, "Don't pretend like you care that we weren’t talking - You're not my partner anymore–”
"So you're admitting you were avoiding me?"
"You left, Eddie!" Buck accuses, "You're the one who up and left! So don’t even bother—"
The line cuts out between them, and a quick glance at Bobby makes it clear that he's the one that cut it. Almost immediately, Buck is overcome with regret and guilt for what he’s said, so much so that it makes him nauseous.
“In the truck - now," Bobby orders, and Buck doesn’t argue. He endures the silent and frankly awkward drive back to the station, before heading straight up to Bobby’s office.
Once they’re inside, Buck just collapses into one of the seats, and Bobby sighs. Buck can see that he’s torn between being Bobby his Captain, and Bobby his friend.
“Am I fired?” Buck asks, straight to the point.
“No,” Bobby replies, sounding more exhausted than anything else. “But I am going to have to give you an official warning. Those calls are recorded and logged.”
“That’s fair,” Buck says, as he grinds the palms of his hands into his eyes and just tries not to cry. Once again, he’s managed to ruin everything. He’d let his emotions get the better of him, and on a job too.
Everyone with a radio had heard his outburst, had heard the way he’d spoken to his best friend. He must have sounded so desperate, so needy, and more than a little unhinged.
It’s no wonder that people keep leaving him behind.
After a moment, Bobby continues. “Are you still talking to a therapist?”
“No, I stopped a while back,” Buck admits. He’d thought he’d been doing fine, but, well.
“Well, I’m going to strongly suggest you go back,” Bobby says, his tone gentle but leaving no room for argument.
Buck just nods in response. He must look like an absolute mess if Bobby isn’t even going to give him a serve for his recklessness.
“I’m also going to send you home now,” Bobby continues, his voice stern. “Not only because you’re not in the right headspace, but because you need to take it easy after that fall. Are you okay to drive yourself?”
Buck nods again.
“Okay, I’m going to be checking in later tonight,” Bobby says, standing up to leave. As he does, he rests his hand on Buck’s shoulder for a moment. “Buck, you’ve got people who care about you. I know you struggle to see that sometimes, but you do.”
Buck nods, and follows Bobby out. He gathers his stuff from his locker and flees the station as fast as humanly possible. Once he gets to his apartment, he manages to email Dr. Copeland about setting up appointments again before just crawling into his bed.
Then the tears start.
He and Eddie have gotten through so much together. The tsunami, the lawsuit, the shooting. But this might actually be the final nail in the coffin, the final thing that Eddie just can’t move beyond. And Eddie would be completely justified if he was done. If he left him behind. Because the fact is Buck is a disaster who can’t sort his shit out.
He wallows, letting the physical ache of his injuries wash over him. They hurt less than the ache in his chest at the realization that Eddie won’t ever want to speak to him again. He’s such a mess that by the time Taylor sends him a quick text canceling their evening plans because of a story she’s chasing up, it’s actually a relief.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur, and Buck is only stirred from his thoughts by a knock at his door, a bit after six. It’s probably Bobby, checking in, so Buck goes to get it. When he opens it though, it’s not Bobby waiting there.
“Hey,” Eddie says, quietly.
“Hey,” Buck parrots, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He hadn’t been sure that he’d ever get to see Eddie again, let alone so soon, and he finds himself utterly unprepared.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Eddie asks, looking past Buck into the apartment.
“Uh, no, you’re fine,” Buck replies, suddenly conscious that he almost certainly looks like a mess. “Taylor has a work thing.”
There is a beat, where neither of them moves or says anything.
“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, uncharacteristically unsure. The fact that he knocked is strange enough, since Eddie still has a key to his apartment.
(Buck hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask for it back, knowing what that would have meant for them.)
“Oh yeah, of course,” Buck says, stepping back so that Eddie can enter the apartment. Buck closes the door behind them, and feels the weight of what’s about to happen settle upon him.
Buck instinctively moves to the kitchen, but hesitates at the fridge. Instead, he pauses on the other side of the kitchen counter, almost grateful for the distance between them.
Even as he fights the urge to move closer to Eddie.
Awkward silence falls in the loft, and Buck isn’t sure that it’s ever been this tense between them, even after the lawsuit. He fights the urge to fidget, trying to distract himself from the inevitable awful conversation that this is going to be. But the fact that Eddie’s here, at his apartment, is a good sign. Maybe if he grovels enough, they can still salvage some part of their friendship out of this. Buck takes a steadying breath, and goes to speak.
“I’m sorry,” they both say, at the exact same time, before breaking into nervous laughter.
“Can I go first?" Buck asks. He isn’t sure what Eddie thinks he needs to apologize for. As far as he can tell, Eddie hasn’t really done anything wrong at all.
“Go ahead.”
“I’m so sorry,” Buck begins, completely contrite. “I was really upset today, and I didn't mean any of it. You were right. I'm the one who's been pulling away, and it wasn't fair of me to blame you for that."
The words hang in the air for a moment, before Eddie speaks. "We used to talk to each other. I just don't understand why you've been pulling away. Did something happen?"
"No, nothing. It's nothing," Buck deflects, not sure how to explain himself without sounding absolutely self absorbed and pathetic.
Eddie sighs. "Buck, work with me here."
"Seriously, don't even worry about it. It's stupid. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."
“Evan,” Eddie says, his tone gentle but also firm. Instantly, Buck knows that he’s not going to get out of this one. Eddie using his name always makes him fold like paper.
“I thought you didn't need me anymore,” Buck admits, despising how needy it sounds. “I don't think anyone actually does."
"I always need you," Eddie insists. "Bobby said to give you some space, but they don't know you like I do. I should have known better."
Buck is pretty sure that no one knows him like Eddie does, but that doesn’t mean that he’s about to make that Eddie problem.
"I'm fine! Really. The last few months have just been a lot," Buck quickly insists, because the last thing he wants to do is burden anyone, "And, I mean, you were going through your own things. I'm not the one who got shot."
Eddie considers him for a moment, "You were there too."
"Yeah, but it's not the same,” Buck says, and something inside him breaks. Suddenly it’s like the dam is open, and he can’t seem to stop what comes out, “I wasn't the one who got hurt. I was—I was just so useless. I-I-I mean, you trust me to have your back, to keep you safe, to keep Chris safe, and when it matters most, I can't—”
“Buck—” Eddie tries, as he moves closer to Buck.
"And I'm so sorry—”
“Buck—”
“—that I can’t—”
"Buck. None of that is on you,” Eddie cuts him off, as he closes the rest of this distance between them. He places his hands on either side of Buck’s face, and the weight and warmth of Eddie’s hands shocks Buck into silence. “I mean it."
There’s nowhere else to look but into Eddie’s eyes, and it steals Buck’s breath away.
After a heavy moment, Eddie continues.
“There was a moment today, where I thought I heard you die, and there was nothing I could do about it,” Eddie starts, and Buck knows exactly what that’s like. He felt the same way after the well, and especially after the shooting. "And I'm going to be honest, Buck, it was awful, and I didn't handle it well. But, it just made me realize that I have no idea what I would do without you. I meant what I said at the hospital that day. You're not expendable."
Buck’s eyes start to burn with unshed tears.
"So, I'm sorry,” Eddie continues, his voice sounding as rough as Buck feels. “I shouldn't have blindsided you like that, at the Christmas party. Especially with everything else you were going through. I didn't stop to think about how my decision to leave the 118 was going to affect you."
"I mean, you were right,” Buck says, his voice rougher than he would like it to be. “You need to do what's best for Chris."
"Still, I should have told you."
“Why?" Buck asks. At Eddie’s confusion, he clarifies, "Like, why would it matter, how it affects me?"
"Because you're my partner," Eddie says, simply. "That's just as true now as it was then."
Buck will never understand how Eddie can completely upturn his world, and put it back together again, better than it was before. He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but he’ll try and try again until he does.
“I’ve missed you,” Buck admits, trying really hard not to cry. “I just want things to go back to how they were.”
“Yeah, me too,” Eddie agrees, softly and honestly.
“You can have my back any day,” Buck adds, because he needs Eddie to understand that he feels the same way. That, even after everything, they still have this.
“And you could have mine,” Eddie finishes off, quietly, as his hands trail down to Buck’s shoulders.
Buck can’t help but pull him into a tight embrace. Eddie eagerly reciprocates, holding him back just as strongly. Buck isn’t not sure how long they stay there, holding each other like that before they reluctantly pull away. As they do, the movement jostles Buck’s shoulder, and he can’t help but wince.
“Sorry, it’s my shoulder.” Buck says, at Eddie’s concerned look.
“Hey, let me check,” Eddie says, as he carefully pulls up the side of Buck’s shirt to check his injuries.
It’s not new behavior, Eddie always gets like this after a close call, insisting on looking Buck over himself. Even after he’d been given the all clear by Hen or Chim. Looking down, Buck can see that his side is already mottled blue. He’s definitely going to be sore for the next few days. Eddie, meanwhile, says nothing as he assesses the bruising, before moving his attention to his shoulder.
“You should be icing that,” Eddie instructs, moving to the freezer and pulling out one of the ice packs. He gently presses it to Buck’s injury, their hands brushing as he does so.
“Thanks,” Buck mumbles, his capacity to say anything more articulate suddenly gone.
“So, you said the floor caved?” Eddie asks, as he continues to check him over.
“Ah, yeah. I was heading to the exit when it just gave out,” Buck explains, “I landed about as well as you could hope.”
“You were so lucky,” Eddie says. There’s no judgment in his tone, just relief.
“I know right? It's a nice change,” Buck jokes, and even Eddie huffs a laugh. After a moment, he asks, “So, how is it at dispatch?”
“Uh, really good, all things considered,” Eddie replies, taking the olive branch for what it is.
They quickly fall into easy conversation, and Buck knows they’ll be okay.
***
A few hours later they're both still at the apartment, sitting on the couch and idly watching some action movie Buck had found on netflix. Eddie is seemingly reluctant to leave, and Buck isn’t going to make him.
Beside Buck, his phone begins to ring, the caller ID indicating that it’s Bobby checking in, as promised.
Eddie turns at the sound, his expression curious.
“It’s just Bobby, checking in.” Buck explains.
Eddie smiles. “Tell him I said hi.”
“Will do.” Buck promises, as he stands and moves to the kitchen for some semblance of privacy, before answering. “Hey Bobby.”
“Hey Buck, how’re you doing?”
“Fine. Sore, but not too bad,” Buck answers, truthfully. “I emailed my therapist too.”
Bobby hums in approval. He must hear noise in the background, because he asks, “Is someone else there?”
“Uh, Yeah, I’m with Eddie. He says hi, by the way.”
Bobby does not seem to be the least bit surprised. “I’m really glad to hear that, Buck.”
Buck glances across to where Eddie is sitting. It hits him then, with the intensity of a bullet, just how much he’s been missing this. “Yeah, me too.”