Chapter Text
Buck does want to say goodbye.
So he does, in the only way he can. Gradually, not to seem suspicious. A part of him wants to be so obvious they notice, so they see him and care again, but a bigger part doesn't want them to pretend Buck is enough, not anymore.
He makes sure to hug and tell everyone he loves them, one by one.
He pulls Bobby aside after another delicious dinner, and though he doesn’t tell his Captain that he’s the father Buck never had, he hopes the sentiment is there all the same as he goes in for one last hug.
He’s written it in his letter to Bobby, anyway. It’s there, Buck just hopes he doesn’t cause the man unnecessary grief. He knows Bobby will blame himself, and a few months ago that thought stopped Buck from ever contemplating taking his own life, but not anymore. Not after too many lectures and disappointed looks, too few acknowledgments that Buck actually knows how to do his job now, that he’s grown and learned from his mistakes. Not after too many comments about Buck just being Buck, that convinced him more and more that it has never been a compliment, not really.
He catches Hen after one of her brilliant saves, and holds her tight, burrowing into her shoulder. He tells her he adores her and looks up to her, tells her what a brilliant doctor she's going to be. He doesn’t tell her that the Hen he once knew (the Hen he disappointed beyond repair) would’ve known what was going through his head, that she would’ve saved him, pulled his head out of his ass.
He doesn’t write it in his letter to her, either. It’s not her fault. That much he does say, hopes the few tears that fell on the paper don’t make his words seem insincere because Buck was never her burden to bear.
He is no one’s responsibility, he's just a hot air balloon waiting for someone to hop on and take the reins to fly them somewhere great. But a hot air balloon is almost always too much, always impractical, too much trouble to put up with. A hot air balloon is good, but just in theory, never in real life, never for too long. The idea of it is cute, but then it's there and it’s too slow, too convoluted, too high maintenance. Too much and not enough, all at the same time. Abby did show Buck that, in more ways than one.
He looks at Chim taking care of Maddie and Jee-Yun, and waits until his sister is putting his niece to sleep to hug him. He tells Chim he’s the best man Maddie could’ve ever found, and he means it. He tells Chim he trusts him with his girls more than anyone. Chim tears up a little at that, thanks him. He’s the first that says I love you back and Buck wonders if Bobby and Hen did, but Buck was just too numb, too lost in the mess inside his head to hear.
He thinks that surely, he would’ve heard them, so Bobby and Hen didn’t say it back, and that’s okay. Buck knows he doesn't deserve the affection; it’s the whole reason he has to take himself out of the picture because he craves it so much all the time, it’s killing him not to get it.
Chim doesn't apologize for hitting him. But that's okay. He does rewrite his letter to Chim that night anyway. He’s the only one besides Christopher that Buck apologizes to. He tells Chim he wishes he could stay, that he tried so hard, that he did stay, for as long as he could.
Telling Maddie he loves her and hugging her is easy. Buck does it fairly frequently, and Maddie always says it back. But the fear of her leaving him again is too fresh, too raw, and the certainty that she will leave Buck one day (this time for good) is there, so he has to leave this time, before he resents her.
It takes him weeks to write the letter for his sister. He has to toss so many in the trash, because they sound too angry, like he’s blaming her when she’s the reason Buck made it to his thirties. Maddie raised him, took care of him as much as she could, and she’s done enough. But putting that into words without making it sound hurtful and passive-aggressive takes time.
He thinks Athena suspects something, when Buck asks for a hug and can barely let go of the woman that he loves more than his own mother, that he wishes were his real mom because he’s that fucking stupid and pathethic and childish. Dr. Copeland told him people are only ever as emotionally mature as the age they get traumatized by their parents (or something like that), so Buck has to be– what, four? Younger, probably. Athena asks if he’s okay, and Buck almost tells her the truth.
No, I’m falling apart , but he’s been selfish before. Once. When he went to that lawyer and ruined his whole damn life with one stupid decision. It hurts so much, please help me , but he can’t say it, because he’s not worthy of her help, of the love she’d shower Buck with if she knew how he felt deep inside.
He tells her he loves her, hopes reading his letter to her makes up for keeping this from her. He tells her he didn’t want to be saved, and wonders if Athena will believe that, or if she’ll know Buck actually meant to write I don't deserve your help, you’re all better off without me .
He kisses Christopher’s curls, and gives him a big hug after watching Zootopia, while Chris babbles about how he’d be friends with a fox if he was a bunny too, because what matters is what’s inside of a person, not the bodies they're in. Buck knows he’s one hundred percent honest, and loves him more for it.
He doesn’t leave Chris a letter, because that’s what Shannon did, and he doesn’t want him to relive that in any way. Not like losing Buck could be anywhere near as traumatizing, he knows he's not Christopher's parent no matter how much it feels like he is sometimes. So he films a video for him, uploads it to his cloud, and schedules for it to be shared after he’s sure he’ll be gone.
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you, Superman, but I was so lucky to meet you. You made my life worth living, every single day of it. Yes, even the tsunami. Especially the tsunami. You’re the strongest person I ever knew. I love you, I always will, and I will be looking over you, making sure you and your dad are happy and loved, like you deserve to be. I swear I kept swimming, for as long as I could, and I know you will too.
He leaves out the part in which he admits he couldn’t make them happy, not wholly, not really. Or the one time Eddie stared at him after Buck called Chris his son (Eddie didn't say anything, but Buck got the message loud and clear and never called Christopher his again).
He doesn’t admit it to Chris, or anyone, how a month ago while they were home (Eddie's home, but Buck's heart claimed it as his home as well, too long ago), he was standing in the kitchen with Eddie and he just blurted it out.
“I’m so in love with you, Eddie,” and the silence was deafening. Buck heard as much as he felt how his heart was breaking, seeing Eddie’s shocked expression, seeing how he was already taking a step back and tensing when Buck tried to reach out but had to drop his hand midway to touching Eddie’s arm. “Hey, it’s not– I know it’s just me that feels this way, man, I just wanted you to know. That you’re loved. That you’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
He didn’t tell Eddie he was the love of his life, but maybe Eddie heard it anyway. Maybe he saw it, because he stood there frozen for the longest minutes of Buck’s life, before he whispered, eyes glistening but jaw clenching, “Thank you. I love you too, Buck, but I’m not–”
“I know, Eddie,” please don’t make me hear it, he all but begged, and Eddie nodded and very obviously and awkwardly changed the subject.
To Eddie’s credit, things stay the same between them even after Buck’s confession. Mostly. He doesn’t change the locks in his house or forbid Christopher from talking to him, or even get weird about them touching when working on calls. But he does put distance between them when they’re doing everything else. It’s just a couple of inches, but Buck notices it all the same. How could he not, after the lawsuit and the miles he himself put between them trying to get back to his family but only managing to show them how much of a fucking asshole he could be?
So he doesn’t get to hug Eddie, or tell him that he loves him again. He doesn’t get to, after his mistake, though he still thinks Eddie deserved to know, and hopes that will be enough.
Once Buck is gone, he hopes Eddie doesn’t realize he was the tipping point in Buck’s decision. That Eddie never knows it was his very sensible, understandable choice to pull away that robbed Buck of the last bits of strength he had left.
If dead people can love, I’ll love you and Christopher forever , he writes, then throws it out because that’s garbage. It belongs in the trash, right along with him. It’s true, but it won’t help Eddie feel better. So he just thanks Eddie for everything he ever did for Buck, from the moment they met to the last time they saw each other, every small and big thing. He thinks he might’ve thanked Eddie for Christopher in every page, but it bears repeating. Eddie’s letter is the longest because of that, and because Buck knows once he’s done writing it, it will be time to go.
He tells everyone he’s taken hiking as a new hobby, whenever they ask what he’s up to on his days off. No one offers to tag along, or asks him much about it afterwards. They never do anymore, about anything Buck says or does. They have their own families to love and get back to after every shift, so they never accept Buck's invitations to hang out without their kids, or agree to make plans outside of the station unless it's for one of Bobby and Athena's get-togethers, and those are few and far between. Everyone is too busy, except for Buck.
In reality, he's not hiking as much as he’s searching for a nice place to fall. Somewhere far from the city so that help, if it comes, can’t get there in time. Somewhere high enough his death will be guaranteed, no chance of surviving available if he jumps.
He still waits until the very last minute, while he’s driving his jeep to the convenient ravine he’s found, waiting for someone, anyone, to reach out to him.
He knows what everyone is up to. They're on shift. Chris is at school. Maddie is taking care of Jee-Yun and has a shift after Chim's done. Athena is working too. Everyone is doing important things, moving on with their lives, while he's stuck in this heart wrenching loop of hurt, neediness and unworthiness.
Buck wants them to ask him how he’s doing, without being prompted by something he did, and without expecting him to give a short, acceptable answer. He wants them to look at him and truly see him and how hollow he feels. He wants them to ask about how therapy is going, without him having to volunteer the information, without him oversharing, so he can admit he’s been lying to Dr. Copeland through his teeth for most of the time he’s been seeing her.
He's never told anyone about his intrusive thoughts (one late night researching teaches Buck that’s what they’re called, and that they’re bad ), about how he’s constantly thinking what if he doesn’t make it out of that fire, what if the ropes he’s rappelling from get loose and he falls, what if a car runs him over while he’s getting coffee, what if someone attacks him late one night and stabs him to death, what if he just drives drives drives until he hits a pole too fast for even the 118 to be able to pull him out of the wreck in time, what if, what if–
He's been having those thoughts since he was young, since the first time he noticed getting physically hurt meant his parents couldn't ignore him, not for a while. He never went through with most of them, because even back then when Daniel didn't exist (he did, but not to Buck), he knew his death would mean next to nothing to them, that it would barely even register in their lives as something worth mentioning. He knows now they lost a son before, and when Buck is gone they are only going to lose a failed project they once thought was good, but ended up being everything they didn't want wrapped up in a small package that they couldn't return because Daniel died, Buck lived, and they never once paused in their grief to love him.
As it is customary for things he’s always wanted and needed, no one texts or calls him. And that’s okay. He’s tired anyway, and it wouldn’t be enough. He’s always been too clingy, too greedy with love of any kind. He's always holding on to people too hard, until they bleed from it, and they have to leave. He's a leech, and it's better he stops feeding on them now. He's overstayed his welcome, probably way before the lawsuit. Probably after the ladder truck landed on his leg, he thinks, because then he went from a handful at work to a handful who couldn't work, and that automatically meant he wasn't family anymore.
He thinks about Taylor as he’s standing on the edge, wind ruffling his hair. It feels almost like a caress, but then again he never dated after her, and it's been long months.
He didn’t write a letter for her. He should have, but it's too late.
“You need to keep some of that love for yourself, Buck,” Taylor had told him once, and her smile was soft, teasing, but her eyes were serious, and full of tears, and Buck forgot how to breathe as she saw right through him. “One day, you’re going to run out of it, and no one can run on empty, not for long.”
She did always warn Buck that no one, not the 118 and not even Maddie, would ever put him first. Taylor wouldn’t either, because her career was her priority, and that was that.
He wipes his cheeks absently, and pulls his phone out to send a quick text to Taylor in lieu of a letter.
You were right , he admits. I ran out of love.
He thanks her too, but he tells her I loved you , past tense, and stops himself from typing he hopes this (his own fucking suicide) is a good story, if it ever hits the news.
He hits send and lets go.
Chapter 2
Notes:
apologies for my mediocre use of Google maps to try and put one geographic reference.
this is more angst, sorry?
thanks to my friend daze for the beta and cheer reading 🥹
Chapter Text
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"My–My ex-boyfriend. He's going to hurt himself. Please, you have to help him."
"What's his name, ma'am? We'll send a wellness check to his address."
"Evan, Evan Buckley. He's a firefighter. I don't –I don't think he's home. Can you ping his phone? You have to hurry. Please."
"We'll do our best to reach him. Please stay on the line with me, and take deep breaths. Can you tell me your name?"
The woman sobs, but eventually replies. "Taylor Kelly."
***
They are finishing up a routine call, a small fire at a convenience store. The clerk has minor burns and mild smoke inhalation, and she's already laughing at some joke Chim made.
Since it's Buck's day off, Eddie is tasked with running inside to look for the shop's pet, a black cat that was hell to find and is very appreciative of his rescue and is still purring on his chest. It has its claws digging into his turnout, and the clerk insists the cat is 'cleansing Eddie's aura' or some nonsense like that.
But then Dispatch calls in, and it's Sue, directly to Bobby's radio, which is never good. Eddie can't hear the exact words, but Bobby blanches and strides to the ambulance.
"Hen, Chim. Can she wait for the next RA unit?"
Hen nods, immediately worried, just like Eddie. "Sure, Cap."
"Pack up, we're going on another call. It's far, outside the city, but we're the closest ones to respond."
Eddie hands the cat to her owner, and Chimney exchanges a look with him. They're not as fluent communicating without words as he is with Buck, but Eddie gets the what is going on loud and clear. He shrugs. No idea.
They pile up to the truck and the ambulance, and Bobby's voice is terse in the comms. He urges them on, full speed and sirens on, and Eddie is about to ask when Bobby talks to his radio.
"Dispatch, this is Captain Nash. We'd appreciate if you have more information about what we're going to find."
"I'm afraid we don't have any details to share, Captain," Sue's voice is professional as always, but there’s an edge to it that Eddie doesn’t like. She sounds almost contrite. “We’ll update you the moment we know anything, but Miss Kelly wasn’t specific. Considering Mr. Buckley’s location is in the middle of a dangerous path in the woods–”
Just like that, the very bottom of Eddie’s soul drops about three feet underground. The truck keeps moving forward, the city a blur around them as they make for the 605, and suddenly Bobby’s behavior makes terrifying sense.
This is about Buck. Buck is in danger, and an ugly, tight feeling lodges in his stomach, the same that tried to get a hold of him when Buck was telling him he lost Christopher in the tsunami, and he thought for a blood-curdling moment that his son was gone.
He gets lost in his head for long enough Bobby is thanking Sue and the conversation is over.
“Taylor Kelly?” he asks, incredulous and angry. “Buck hasn’t talked to her in months, Bobby! Do you really think she’d know anything that I don’t about him? That we don’t?”
If Frank was listening to him, he’d be disappointed, he thinks absently. They’ve worked on anger masking many other feelings that Eddie isn’t comfortable dealing with: guilt, sadness, fear. It’s definitely fear now that's making his fists clench in a white-knuckled grip.
Bobby turns around from the front of the truck, levels Eddie with a look that’s both understanding and lecturing. He nods and looks down, chastised.
“He’s fine, we just saw him yesterday,” he manages to control his tone, but not the raging storm that starts to lay waste inside of him.
He realizes his breathing is too quick and focuses on slowing it down, flashes of Shannon still and bleeding on the sidewalk playing in his head.
“Let’s hope he’s just hiking, didn’t answer her calls, and we’re all scared over a misunderstanding.”
***
Buck’s jeep points them to the starting point. The truck stays beside it, the rest of the way too steep and uneven to do anything but go on foot.
They fan out to look for their missing teammate. Hen and Chim split and Eddie goes with Bobby so they can cover more ground with a medic at the ready to tend to Buck if he’s injured, which with his track record, it’s almost a must.
“Careful, there are ravines and slopes and who knows what else in every direction,” Bobby reminds them through the radio, pausing in their shouts, calling for Buck.
Eddie hears Hen and Chim’s voices calling out for their friend, echoing his own and Bobby’s, and it feels like he can only breathe when they’re waiting for a reply, for any kind of noise that lets them know Buck is around somewhere, waiting for them to rescue him.
It’s over a mile when they come to a stop, and Eddie’s hackles raise with the oppressive silence that surrounds them. Hen, Chim, and the others are standing a few feet from a ravine. Chim’s shoulders are shaking, and Eddie barely bites his tongue not to yell at him to get a move on and get down to help Buck already.
“Eddie, no, don’t look,” Hen tells him, her face streaked with tears, but Eddie pushes past her, shakes her arms from him and looks down.
“BUCK!!!”
The scream is torn from his throat, ripped straight from his lungs. It sends birds flying from the trees around them, but he only hears them distantly. There are arms on him again, pulling him back from taking the long twenty feet fall too.
“He’s not–we have to–he’s not dead!” it’s a plea more than a shout, and the medic in him knows the angle of Buck’s head makes it impossible for him to be alive, the medic in him saw the dark pool of blood around him too, and the absolute stillness of his torso, but he’s still clinging to the last bit of hope he can. “Let me get to him! I’ll bring him back!”
“He’s gone, Eddie,” Hen reminds him, her glasses fogged with her sorrow, but he shakes his head and refuses to agree with her. Not out loud, not when it’s Buck down there–
Buck’s body, logic corrects him and blows the hope right out of him, leaving him bare and cold down to his core. He’s not there anymore. You were late.
“Rogers, rappel down. Stevens, you’re holding the ropes, get the basket down. Bring him up, but be careful,” Bobby orders somewhere near his ear, and Eddie thinks he is making some sort of noise, his throat feels shredded.
“What am I going to tell Maddie?” Chim asks, voice wrecked, and Eddie realizes there’s two other people beside Bobby dragging him towards the truck. He can’t feel their hands on him, only registers they’re moving him.
“Dispatch, this is the 118. Be advised, we’re going offline. We didn’t make it in time,” Bobby barely radioes it in before his mouth contorts on a loud sob, and Eddie stops struggling and puts his arms around Bobby as both their knees give out.
“Athena,” Bobby says, voice wavering. “I need to– she needs to know.”
Eddie nods numbly, patting Bobby’s pockets until he fishes Cap’s phone for him and presses it to his hand.
“Are you driving?” he hears Bobby asking. “I need you to pull over.”
He’s probably missing pieces of the conversation. He should be paying attention to it because he’s going to be having it with Christopher later, and he has no idea what he’s going to say.
“It’s Buck–he’s–he’s gone, Athena. He–he fell, I don’t–what? Of course he didn’t jump!” Bobby objects fiercely to whatever Athena said, which apparently was insinuating Buck did this to himself, on purpose.
As if he would leave him and Christopher, and his sister and niece, and his whole family, like this.
“Athena, he’s not May. This wasn’t suicide.”
The icy touch of doubt itches around Eddie’s heart after hearing that all the same. He feels the same conviction Bobby defended Buck with, but Bobby doesn’t know what he knows.
Bobby doesn’t know how a month ago, Buck stood in his kitchen, sent the most beautiful, bright smile Eddie’s way and told him he was in love with him, blue eyes earnest and kind and so very lovely. He doesn’t know how selfless Buck was admitting a truth that Eddie had been pushing ruthlessly aside for too long because he was sure if things changed between them, he was going to fuck it all up.
He doesn’t know Eddie got scared shitless and couldn’t say it back. How could he? His only relationship had been with Shannon, and he’d left her the moment it turned serious, and lost her forever way before that car took her from him and Chris.
Bobby doesn’t know that he didn’t quite run all the way to Afghanistan this time when faced with something he wasn’t prepared for, but emotionally, he might as well have. He doesn’t know Eddie thought he and Buck had longer to bounce back from that awful spot Eddie had put them in, because how could they not? They’d bounced back from so much worse, always coming out stronger, closer, better–
He stays with Bobby until the basket is up, then he’s stumbling to his feet, only enough so he can crawl the last few inches and touch Buck’s face with his hands. He doesn’t look peaceful or like he’s resting. He looks like his last moments on Earth were painful, and Eddie wants to scream again, and perhaps he does. Buck is already going cold, the paleness of his skin telling him his heart had stopped beating too long ago, and his once blue eyes are dull with gray.
Eddie bites down another sob as he closes them gently, pressing a kiss to both his eyelids and his brow, a thousand words he didn’t say to Buck threatening to suffocate him as he says goodbye silently.
He hates the fact he never got to kiss him like this when Buck was warm and alive, when Buck would have felt it and smiled at him in mirth. He brushes trembling fingers against his birthmark and hates how colorless and lifeless everything seems now, without Buck breathing to make it bright and right; how his partner looks like a corpse, and the forest looks so dry and dull it could burst up in flames any second now, and how the sky isn’t blue anymore but the same shade Buck’s dead eyes are instead.
Hen pecks Buck’s cheek, whispers something to him that sounds like an apology. Bobby kisses his forehead, as quiet as Eddie had been. Chim just grips Buck’s shoulder and weeps, mumbling something about losing another brother he didn’t show enough love to.
Eddie can’t look when they’re zipping the body bag. He can barely stand and tuck himself into a corner of the truck and will himself to breathe.
Christopher will need him, now more than ever. He can’t break down completely, whatever he did in the past hour was all he was allowed to do to grieve.
***
Athena is waiting for them when they pull into the station. She shoves a blue envelope to each of them, and Eddie stares at the familiar chicken scrawl that reads ‘Eddie’ on his.
“That boy killed himself, Bobby,” Athena states, and when Eddie looks at her, she’s holding the open envelope with her name on it and the papers tight against her chest, lips trembling and tears running down her cheeks. “He killed himself because we were all too blind to see how much pain he was in, because I didn’t push hard enough even though I saw him struggling. He’s dead because I didn’t save him.”
“He said goodbye to me, last week. I should’ve seen it,” Chim admits, and Hen nods beside him.
“Me too, Chim. I should’ve said something when he went quiet, weeks ago.”
Eddie sees Bobby and Athena holding on to each other, sees Chim crumbling down on Hen’s shoulder, and he pockets the letter as he walks to the locker room on autopilot.
It turns out, Buck did do it. He did jump, he left everyone a suicide note to prove he did, that he did look for that particularly nasty spot to leave them all behind, and there isn’t a damn thing Eddie can do about it.
He’s scared of reading Buck’s letter, scared of the all-encompassing guilt he already feels swallowing him whole. But he’ll read it once because he owes Buck that much after taking him for fucking granted, after seeing him hurting every time Eddie didn’t close the distance between them, thinking he’d figure it out later, back when he thought they’d have later.
He’ll read it and put it away right next to Shannon’s letter for Christopher.
He wants to wake up from this nightmare, but he’s not even asleep.
Somehow he changes his clothes, and he’s walking to his truck when Athena grabs his arm.
“You shouldn’t be driving, Eddie,” she says, and she’s probably right.
“I need to get Christopher out of school,” he deflects, as if that makes it better. He’s doing that thing Frank’s told him not to do, which is distance himself from what he’s feeling and darting right ahead.
He knows it'll bite him in the ass later, but he really can’t wait. If he stops, even for a minute, he won’t be able to keep going. Fuck working through his feelings, Buck’s death destroyed all of the good ones. There’s nothing left but ugly monsters Eddie can’t deal with.
Athena wants to object, but then Eddie’s phone is ringing, and it’s Chris’ school.
Eddie swipes to answer, what’s left of his heart literally in his throat.
“Diaz.”
“Mr. Diaz, I’m calling from–”
“Is my son okay?” he interrupts and appreciates Athena’s hand squeezing his forearm, grounding him.
“He’s not physically hurt, but he’s very upset. We think it might be best if you–”
“I’ll go pick him up,” he cuts the poor secretary off again and hangs up. He wonders, feeling like a lunatic, if Christopher somehow knows that Buck–if his son felt the sunshine from their lives dimming and then going out forever.
Athena and Bobby make him promise he’ll call. They offer to let him and Christopher crash in their guest room, for as long as they like, but Eddie wants nothing but to take Chris home; the last place they were with Buck, when he was laughing and telling Chris random facts about red pandas and everything was alright with the world.
***
Stuck in traffic, Eddie skims over the letter.
Eddie, it starts, thank you for giving me a chance, even though I was an asshole to you that first day.
And then it’s just a long, detailed list of everything Buck noticed Eddie did for him throughout the years. It has Eddie pinching the bridge of his nose for a long moment, forbidding himself from crying loudly, though there’s no stopping the tears leaking from his eyes. It’s hard reading through them, and every now and then there’s an even though I didn’t deserve it, but the worst is definitely the bit about the lawsuit.
Thank you for forgiving me for the lawsuit. It was the most stupid thing I ever did, and you know that list is miles and miles long. I know it sounds like an excuse, but I never knew you and Christopher needed me so much. I would’ve been content just having you guys and losing my job at the 118, and as a firefighter anywhere, if it meant I got to keep you, if it meant I got to see you and Christopher smiling every single day. No one ever relied on me as much as you did, and then I went and ruined it twice, and you still managed to let that go. I will never be able to repay you. You were right, I’m exhausting, and I never see anything but my side of things, so I’m taking myself out of the narrative, hoping that’ll help make things easier for you. You dealt with so many of my messes, more than anybody else, and all I ever did in return was keep wanting more from you.
A whimper makes it out of his mouth. He clamps it shut and shoves the letter in the glove compartment, scrubbing at his eyes roughly as traffic finally moves on.
He can read between the lines just fine, without even finishing the damn note yet.
Buck thought he ruined things between them again, telling Eddie about his feelings. He tried to be so careful about the small distance he put between them, but it was still an ocean to Buck. That’s what the scratched word and ‘wanting more’ mean. And Eddie, instead of being fucking honest with him–instead of pulling him close and admitting he was downright terrified of losing him, he pushed him away and reminded him of losing his job and the 118, his chosen family, and pushed him right over the edge.
He finishes reading, not surprised Buck ends up apologizing for not being enough, for daring to call Christopher his when it wasn’t his place, for seeing things that weren’t there. Eddie rubs at his eyes hard and sees Buck freezing in his kitchen, after calling Christopher our son and having Eddie tense like he’d just been doused in cold water at the truth of that statement, and he knows that did it, that it was the last fucking blow, the one that cut Buck so deep he bled out from it.
He failed Buck so immensely, so thoroughly, he realizes. He never convinced him of how much he meant to him and Christopher, never let Buck trust his part in their family was true and permanent.
He told Buck that he wasn’t expendable once, thinking the message would stick. It didn’t, and then Eddie went and acted like he’d lied.
***
Christopher can’t talk through his tears. He’s sobbing as openly as Eddie wishes he could. He kisses his son’s forehead and the top of his head, and picks him, his backpack, and his crutches up, walking them out of the school without a single word. The principal and Christopher’s teacher either don’t ask, or Eddie doesn’t hear them.
“Oh mijo,” he whispers, breath shuddering, the prospect of making whatever is bothering Chris worse by telling him about Buck sickening. Chris has been demanding not to be treated like a baby anymore since he's eleven now, but he’s clinging to Eddie like he’s eight again and Shannon just left them for the second time.
Maybe he can put off telling him until tomorrow. He wonders what Maddie is going to do absently, when the funeral is going to be. His practical, parental side reminds him Christopher outgrew the only suit he had already, so he has nothing to wear. He remembers he needs to call Carla, Abuela, and tía Pepa, at some point. They'll want to be there with them.
Christopher waits until they’re home to put his brand new phone in Eddie’s hands. The phone Buck helped Eddie childproof, after convincing him Chris was old enough to have one. It unlocks with all three of their fingerprints, and he swallows a wail at yet another reminder that Buck was right, Chris is was his son too, Eddie just wasn’t ready to deal with all the implications of that.
A video is playing. It’s Buck, talking softly, his voice raspy but steady as he apologizes to Christopher for not staying. His eyes are puffy and red as if he’d been crying for hours, but you wouldn’t know it unless you looked closely because he’s reassuring Christopher that he's always been enough, that he made Buck’s life worth living, the same adoration he looked at Chris with shining bright in his eyes and his smile.
“Dad, is Buck really gone? Like mom?” Eddie can do nothing but nod, and he only notices he’s crying when Christopher cups his face and wipes his eyes, his glasses askew and wet with tears. “I thought he was happy with us, but he was sad, wasn’t he?”
What’s the protocol when you and your son’s best friend kills himself? Should Eddie make sure Christopher understands what happened or hope he thinks it was an accident, and leave it vague? Buck clearly wanted to spare him the gory details, but his son is too smart and perceptive, and he knows Buck didn’t just skip town. He compared it to Shannon dying, and Eddie nodded, but he has no idea what he could say that wouldn’t hurt Chris more.
“He was, but you made him very happy when he was with us,” he settles, holding Chris’s hands on his cheeks. “He was hurting, and sometimes people hurt so much and so deeply, they can’t–they can’t stay with their family.”
Christopher nods, solemn and quiet, and holds on to him as they both cry for hours. He promised himself he wouldn't allow any more weakness, but not crying with his son would be doing him a disservice, it'd be teaching him to hide pain so deep it'd change Chris completely. So he falls apart, and a part of him knows there'll be no stitching himself back together, not without Buck by his side to help him.
It’s dark by the time Eddie breathes in through the thick, cloying grief in his chest. They get up from the couch Buck slept more nights on than he did back at his loft, and eat reheated leftovers from the fridge; Buck’s special mac and cheese recipe that Bobby taught him. Eddie pushes the food around more than anything, but he eats a few spoonfuls whenever Christopher looks up to check on him.
There’s no story that night. Eddie doesn’t suggest it, remembers Buck was halfway reading The Prisoner of Azkaban with Chris (he's insisted on reading the books out loud himself, sometimes, lately), and the only thing Chris asks for is to not be alone.
Eddie can’t deny him a thing, not after everything that’s happened, so he takes him to his bed and turns the lights off.
He stays very still after Christopher curls up into his side and falls asleep, his mind reeling, refusing to disconnect.
He lost his best friend, his partner, his co-parent, the light of his life, and possibly the love of his fucking life, to suicide. He hurt Buck so much, he lost him to demons he should’ve helped keep at bay, not feed them until they grew so strong they took Buck away.
He stares up at the ceiling, until dusk breaks outside the curtains, praying to any God that is listening to please give him one more shot at it. At making Buck happy, at making him stay.
At some point, he falls asleep, and in his dream, he kisses Buck’s fragile happiness after he tells Eddie he’s the best man he’s ever known and watches his partner shine like an angel. He's satisfied when Buck’s glass-like smile turns into an ecstatic, confident grin.
“You’ll have to catch me, Eddie,” Buck’s eyes are surreal, iridescent, and he’s not smiling anymore, he’s stepping away, slipping through Eddie's fingers even though he’s holding on so tight.
“I’ll catch you, always.”
Chapter Text
He gasps awake, the ache in his chest heavy, raw and throbbing like a recently amputated limb.
He can't fucking believe himself. He's so angry he's sure he could foam at the mouth if he let himself. He had a–what, a romantic dream about Buck? Right after he lost him forever, for being a coward. It's really fucking rich of him.
He rubs his face with both hands, something feeling off. Then again, he's sure that's how life will feel from now on, without Buck.
He needs to call Maddie, give his condolences and offer his help for organizing the wake and funeral. He needs to call Frank, ask him to book Eddie for an appointment in about two to three business days, or he will really lose it without professional help.
It's too early to do any of those things, so he just stays in bed, eyes stinging and throat working, using the time to remind himself he doesn't get to weep like he didn't play a big part in Buck's death.
Christopher opens the door to peek at him, and Eddie feels like the worst father in the world. He doesn't even know when Chris decided to go to his own bed.
"Dad, wake up," his son says, with the mild fond exasperation he uses whenever Eddie oversleeps and makes them both late. "We're not gonna have time to work out if you don't get up. Or for breakfast. Buck made waffles, remember? I want to eat them."
Several things don't make sense, he realizes as he jumps to his feet. Christopher doesn't look like he spent half the day before crying; his eyes are cheerful and relaxed behind his glasses, and what he's saying about the waffles is the same thing he said yesterday.
He grabs his phone and checks the date. Checks it again on the internet, to make sure his phone didn't freeze in time, along with the jagged pieces of his broken heart.
"You, huh, start without me with your stretches, buddy," he tells Christopher, his voice barely more than a croak. "I'll be right there."
"O-kay," Christopher doesn't seem convinced, but he lets Eddie be.
He's calling Buck before he really thinks about it, pressing a hand to his mouth so the idiotic hope bubbling up from within doesn't spill out and drown him when he's wrong and Buck doesn't pick up because he's–
"Hey, Eddie," his best friend's voice greets him after two rings. "What's up?"
"Buck," he breathes out, the weight on his chest lifting, fresh air finally rushing into his lungs.
He's so dizzy with relief he has to sit down on the bed and wipe at his eyes.
Gracias, Dios mío, gracias.
Buck is alive, Eddie just had the most horrible nightmare.
"You okay? You sound weird," Buck points out, and he sounds so normal, it's giving Eddie whiplash. "You burned the waffles, didn't you?"
"I'm fine, it's just. I wanted to talk with you."
He's not about to admit what is going on in his head.
It was just a dream. He won't linger on it, he shouldn't, yet there are so many things he wants to say to Buck, and he's acutely aware tomorrow isn't promised to anyone.
How could he forget that?
"We promised we'd never keep things from each other again, right?" he asks, because he has to make sure the real Buck isn't thinking about doing the same thing he did in Eddie's dream. "You'd tell me if something was wrong?"
"Eddie," Buck whispers like he's been sucker punched, and Eddie feels like a tool.
He just reminded him of the lawsuit, didn't he?
"I didn't mean–" god fucking damn it, what did he mean? "I don't want to force you. I'm just making sure you know I'm here for you. Always."
Even as he's saying it, he knows words won't be enough to prove to Buck he can put them back together after hearing the very thing he was too scared to want tumbling out of his best friend's lips and recoiling like the world's biggest asshole. He knows this is a wake-up call, and he's awake alright.
"I'm okay, you don't have to worry about me," Buck's words are a little stilted, and Eddie wonders if he's lying. "Now go, you're going to be late."
"We'll talk later?"
"Dad!" Chris calls for him. "Hurry up!"
"Tell Christopher I said hi. Bye, Eddie," Buck hangs up, and he's left with a mix of relief and worry that leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
When did he stop being able to tell whether his partner was being honest or not?
He'll call Buck again from the car, he decides, and starts with a day that feels like the world's most awful deja vu.
***
After trying to call Buck approximately ten times, Eddie makes it to work. He's five minutes late, so he rushes to put on his uniform while trying to calm the anxiety crawling under his skin at not being able to reach Buck again.
Logically, he knows it doesn't mean anything, but he can still see his best friend's lifeless eyes, can feel him cold and clammy under his fingertips, and he's having a hard time separating dreams from reality.
Maybe he should go back to therapy. Reacting like this to a nightmare can't be normal. But explaining to Frank his worst fear is losing him, and causing Christopher to be miserable again without his Buck (losing a parent again), that just seems too personal. It isn't PTSD or anything related to trauma, it's just so irrational and sappy he'd rather keep it to himself.
He's spooked enough Bobby asks him if he's okay. The alarm saves him from having to lie to Cap, and they rush out to the same calls he remembers from the day that didn't happen, from his fucking dream.
It's as he's crouching down, looking for the store's pet, and he sees the yellow, bright eyes of the same black cat he saved yesterday that he knows something is not right.
The cat lets Eddie pick it up easily and starts purring like it's their job to sound like a small motor. The owner repeats what she said about Eddie's aura, and he's giving her back the cat like he's been burned, not caring about the claws damaging his turnout. He hears Bobby's radio crackling, and he has to close his eyes against a rush of emotion.
It's Sue, and the words are indistinct from where he's standing, but even like that, the tone is familiar. The way Bobby tenses and pales is familiar, too.
"Hen, Chim. Can she wait for the next RA unit?"
"Sure, Cap."
"Pack up, we're going on another call. It's far, outside the city, but we're the closest ones to respond."
No, no, no, no.
Eddie is going to be sick.
***
He spends the ride to the woods mute and spacing out. Bobby tries to comfort him, but Eddie can't even make sense of the words.
He's still hoping this is just a big coincidence when they stop on the same spot. Buck's jeep is there. Bobby separates them on teams, with a medic each, and they go searching for Buck.
Eddie grabs ropes and all the equipment he needs from the truck and breaks into a run. Bobby and everyone call out for him, both out loud and to his radio, as he's dashing like a mad man through the trees and bushes, but he doesn't answer.
What's he supposed to say? Sorry, I need to make sure my best friend isn't dead in the bottom of a steep drop because he was depressed and I never noticed?
He's the first one at the scene this time. He sees the same horrible image he saw in his dream; Buck lying at the bottom, pale and motionless, blood sticking to his hair, neck at an angle, one of his long legs unnaturally bent to the side.
He wonders hysterically if it really was a dream as he secures the rope to a tree and begins to descend, barely controlling his fall enough not to break something. His brain rattles in his head as his feet connect to the ground with a loud thud, and then he's on top of Buck, starting compressions after checking his pulse. There's no hemorrhage he can see (the bleeding on Buck's head has stopped, and head wounds bleed a lot, he's going to be fine), no place to put a tourniquet in, so he just forces Buck's heart to send blood to his body.
He hears the cracking of Buck's ribs giving way under his palms, feels it like a stab through his chest, but keeps going. He can't give Buck mouth-to-mouth breathing, can't risk moving his neck when he's lying like that.
At some point, Hen appears on Buck's other side. Eddie's jaw clenches because he's not ready to stop just yet. He's not ready to give up and lose Buck again, but Hen just instructs him to take a break as she resumes CPR. She has a breathing mask in her bag, and Eddie takes it, securing it to Buck's face and starting to try and squeeze air into his lungs.
Nothing seems to work, and he’s not surprised. He’s just horrified and lost and in so much pain he doesn’t know how he’s still breathing, let alone moving and working.
"Guys, we need to call it," Chim's voice cracks through the radio. "It's been forty minutes. He's–he's gone."
"No," Eddie shakes his head, fighting Hen when she tries to put herself between him and Buck.
His face feels wet, either from sweat or tears or both. Hen is saying something to him, grabbing his face between her hands, but Eddie can't hear her. He pushes her aside and collapses beside Buck, repeats the motions he did the first time; closes his eyes, kisses his eyelids and brow softly. Except this time he wets Buck's face with his tears and burrows into his chest.
He doesn't let anyone drag him away. Bobby doesn't even try, and Eddie sees him briefly; he's sitting down on the dirt, back leaning against the truck, his phone pressed to his ear, mouth open in a 'no'. He knows Cap is talking with Athena, knows what she must be saying, knows she's right.
No one has the heart to put Buck in a body bag, and Eddie takes his hand as he stays curled on top of him in the ambulance. Hen rubs his back, and Chim holds on to Buck's other hand, talking in between sobs. Eddie doesn't even know who he's talking to. Buck? Him? Maddie?
He doesn't know who's driving the ambulance, he thinks absently.
He doesn't know anything anymore, except he could've prevented this. He got the second chance he so desperately begged for and fucking wasted it.
***
Except for Athena getting a police cruiser to drive them to Christopher's school, it's the same day on repeat.
Since she's there, Eddie shows her the video Buck left for Chris, handing her Chris' phone as he cradles his son against his chest and cries into his hair.
She vows she'll be at Eddie's home first thing in the morning, when she can't convince him to stay with her and Bobby, so they can help him with Christopher.
He knows he must be the picture of a broken man, but he can't play brave anymore. Not after seeing Buck die twice.
They eat on the couch because he can't fucking get up, after Christopher reheats Buck's mac and cheese in the microwave. He coaxes Eddie gently into having some of it, and it tastes like blood and dirt on his tongue.
"Daddy, can I take this to your room?"
He blinks, scrubs his eyes harshly with the back of his hand, and looks at the picture frame Chris is holding. It's a recent photo, their last day out together, the three of them at the cinema about to watch the new Superman movie. Chris and Buck are wearing matching Superman t-shirts, beaming as Buck holds the phone to take the shot, and Eddie is looking at them both like they're the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky.
"I think we need Buck there with us," Christopher says, when Eddie takes too long to reply.
"Of–of course, bud. I want him there, too," his voice is so hoarse it's a wonder Chris understands him, but he smiles sadly and pulls at his hand until Eddie gets the hint, and they go through their night routine before bed.
Later, when Chris is holding on to him in his sleep, and Eddie is staring at the picture on his nightstand instead of the ceiling, he wonders how he's supposed to move on from this.
He could've saved Buck, but he didn't try hard enough. He half-assed it, and now it's too late.
He doesn't sleep a wink, only letting his swollen eyes fall shut when the sun peaks outside in the sky.
I'm so sorry, Buck. I didn't have your back, I didn't catch you. I wish I could try again. I wish you were still here with us.
Notes:
The tiniest bit of Spanish:
Thank you, my God, thank you.
Chapter 4
Notes:
longest chapter so far, so buckle up.
thanks to my friend daze for the beta.
i'm sorry if it sucks. i tried?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Christopher shakes him awake, and Eddie presses a hand over his mouth to swallow down a sob, but he can't for the life of him keep the tears at bay.
He needs help, he decides. He's going to call Bobby, and Carla and tía Pepa, and everyone , because he can't do this alone anymore.
"Dad?" His son climbs up the bed and snuggles with him. "What's wrong?"
The question throws him for a loop. He stares at Chris' face, sees no trace of grief in him.
Could it really be–
He grabs his phone. It's the same fateful day for the third time, and his heart beats like war drums in his ribcage, urging him to get a move on, and fast .
He sends Christopher to get ready, emphasizing it's very important he doesn't take longer than fifteen minutes. He puts the waffles Buck made for them away, packs them for Chris to have with Abuela, and he's leaving him with her with hardly an explanation, just a few mumbled words about Buck needing him. She doesn't ask him for more, just kisses his cheek and makes the sign of the holy cross as Eddie is pulling out in his truck again, tires screeching, and breaking every speed limit to get to Buck's apartment.
Buck's jeep isn't there when he arrives, and he curses as he drives out of the city, making for the 605 and praying he's not pulled over for driving like a maniac.
He doesn't have any equipment, he realizes as he's running through the awfully familiar path to the ravine Buck chose to jump from, getting cuts and scratches on his face and arms but hardly feeling anything but fear.
It turns to horror when he finally makes it there, only to see Buck's body already broken on the bottom.
He skids down to get to him without hesitation, making a mess of his hands and arms as he claws at the dirt and branches so he doesn't end up having to be rescued too. His feet still land heavily on the ground, bones rattling with the impact, but he pays it no mind and drops on his knees hard next to Buck.
He leaves bloody fingerprints on Buck's neck as he checks his pulse.
He finds nothing. He's too late.
"Not again, no," he pleads to no one and lets his body take over as he starts CPR, already knowing it's not going to work.
He's already screamed himself hoarse and stopped compressions by the time the 118 makes it.
"Eddie?" It's Chim that rappels down, shaking him to get his attention, and he sees the same sort of raw desperation he felt the first two times he lost Buck on his friend's face.
"I couldn't save him," he admits, his voice shot to hell. "I tried, Chim, I tried so hard."
"Hey, hey, I know, buddy. We'll take over now, okay? Buck's in good hands, I promise," and then he's tying ropes around Eddie to get him up, and Eddie just blinks and lets him.
He wonders what he looks like because no one says Buck is dead out loud or even asks him what happened, or if they do, he has no recollection of it. Bobby hugs him tight before walking away to call Athena, and Eddie can't hear him at all.
He briefly comes back to himself when Hen tightens the shock blanket around him. She's tending to his various cuts and bruises, every now and then pausing to smother a sob against her elbow. She tries speaking to him, something about his ankle being busted, but Eddie just shakes his head. Pain shoots up his right leg when he puts weight on his foot, but it barely computes through the ache in his chest, in his soul.
Nonsensically, he thinks the third time isn't the charm. There's no way he just watched Buck die three times just to wake up the next day to confirm he fucked it all up, multiple times. There has to be a way out of this, a way for them to make it through, but clinging to that small bit of hope is survival at this point, not really faith. He doesn't trust himself, or what's going on.
He spends the way back to the city clinging to Buck's hand, staring at nothing because looking at the dead body of the man he loves is too much, static sizzling in his brain. He feels like a failure, like he's disappointing Buck and Chris and himself and everyone over and over and over again.
He doesn't make any move to leave or anything, once they make it to the station, staying completely still until Athena hugs him. She doesn't let go when Eddie just burrows into her and makes a broken noise in the back of throat as Hen and Chim finally take Buck away from him.
He can't tell Christopher much more than he's sorry, that Buck was hurting but he's not hurting anymore, when Bobby and Athena take him to his school to pick him up. Does it really matter? In a few hours, this day will only exist in Eddie's head, and Christopher will be free of the trauma. It doesn't matter whether he tries to be strong or not.
Bobby and Athena watch Buck's video for Chris as he's clinging to his son in the back of Athena's cruiser, and he feels fear digging its claws in him again as he hears them weeping quietly, grieving the man they loved like a son, the man they didn't get to comfort or love enough.
What if he's wrong? He can't help but think. What if this is it, and he doesn't get more chances to fix it?
***
There's a ton of bricks on top of him when he opens his eyes. It doesn't feel right, breathing in and out in a world where Buck doesn't exist, so he ignores his alarm and only reacts by shutting his eyes tight when Christopher gets under the covers with him and wraps his little arms around him.
"Dad, are you sick?" he asks in a whisper. "Are we sleeping in? Can we call Buck to stay with us?"
That does it. He shoots up, apologizing to Chris with a kiss on the crown of his head, keeping an arm around him as he calls Buck.
"I need help," he says before he can even make sure his partner is at the other end of the line.
"I'm coming," Buck replies, and Eddie hears the rushed noises of him getting ready.
It's incredible. He marvels at Buck's readiness, his complete devotion to him and Christopher. He's there in twenty minutes, coaxing Chris to unstick himself from Eddie's side so he can give him breakfast. He calls Bobby in hushed tones after closing the curtains of his room and shutting the door, explaining Eddie has a migraine and won't be able to make it.
Eddie doesn't have a migraine, but he locks himself in his bathroom as Buck is talking on the phone with Hen, asking her what he can do to ease Eddie's pain.
He doesn't think there's any way to ease the kind of pain he's feeling, but if there's anyone who could do it, that's Buck. Except he can’t go out and tell his best friend he’s absolutely gutted after watching him die one too many times, so he calls Frank instead.
"How do I get someone who is about to– to end it all to admit it, to accept my help? How do I keep them here, with me?"
He's barely said hello. In fact, he doesn't think he did, just asked for Frank and hoped he was available because Eddie is at the end of his rope, and Buck is counting on him to catch him when he falls.
" Eddie, if you have proof that they're suicidal, you need to get them to a hospital. They need treatment, there's nothing you can do to help except get them there. "
He doesn't like the answer, but he thanks his therapist and stumbles to the kitchen, checking Buck and Christopher are busy before calling Bobby. He tells their Captain and friend he's getting Buck help, and Bobby agrees it's the best thing to do.
It's as the nurse is taking Buck inside that Eddie realizes he shouldn't have done this. Buck's eyes are dim, his shoulders slumped, and he looks so very small despite being over six feet tall. He looks so hurt as he stares back at Eddie in a way that has him running to him and enveloping him in a crushing hug, promising he'll be there to visit him first thing in the morning and every day after too.
Nothing he says seems to convince Buck of how important he is to Eddie, how important he is to everyone that wants him to get better. In Buck's eyes, he just washed his hands of the problem and handed him to strangers to deal with his broken mind.
He spends the night awake, expecting to get a call about Buck hanging himself with the sheets or something equally gloomy.
It doesn't happen. It's the first time Buck makes it through the day alive, but Eddie feels despondent instead of hopeful about it.
The universe is screaming something at him, and he’s trying his damndest to listen, but for the life of him (for his heart , shattering each time he fails to save Buck), he can’t figure out what it is.
***
Waking up this time feels underwhelming. Buck had been admitted to a psych ward the day before, so he’s not drowning in grief, he’s just… so drained, physically and emotionally, so disappointed in himself.
He checks his phone, murmurs a quick thank you that is half prayer, half cry and then he's out of bed, running to wake Christopher and ask one of their neighbors to look after him until Carla gets to his house.
"I'm really sorry about the short notice," he tells Carla. "I need to get to Buck right away."
" I'll be right over, Eddie, don't you worry ," she soothes him in her usual diligent tone. " You take care of our Buck. That boy needs a whole lot more than he lets on. Chris and I will hold the fort ."
What do you mean? He almost screams.
"Thanks, Carla," he chokes out instead and hangs up.
He knows what she means, and of course she has no reason to suspect Buck was never going to ask for what he needed, that he was going to choose to go away so no one had to take care of him.
"Be good for Carla, okay, sweetheart?" he asks his son, holding him close and kissing the crown of his head.
"Yes, dad," comes the bored, slightly peeved reply. "You know, I could just wait for her here. I'm eleven, not five."
He doesn't really have time to get into an argument with Chris about how much Eddie still babies him, so he nods and asks their neighbor to check on him in fifteen minutes and drives out the driveway like the devil's on his heels.
He's turning on Buck's street when he sees the Jeep pulling out of the parking lot, so he pumps the gas in a way that makes the tires screech and blocks his best friend from getting out, almost crashing against him in the process.
His truck ends up an inch from bumping into Buck's Jeep, and he's getting out at the same time he hears Buck calling out to him.
"Eddie! What the hell?"
He's in front of him in two long strides, pulling him into his arms without a word, hands gripping Buck's nape and back tightly as he takes in a shuddering, slightly wet breath.
The fact he almost lost him again doesn't let his heart slow down in the slightest.
"Eddie?" Buck asks, tentative, arms wrapping around his back as Eddie buries his face in his shoulder and just breathes him in. "You okay, what's going on?"
He's a little tense, but that's probably because he's currently holding about eighty five percent of Eddie's weight, the combination of adrenaline and endorphins from chasing Buck and getting to him in time making his legs weak.
When Buck repeats his question softly against his ear, he shakes his head and breaks apart just enough to look into his partner's eyes.
Fuck. He looks normal , and it kills Eddie to know he could've run into Buck on the street and still not be able to stop him from jumping later, after they went their separate ways.
"Let's just… go upstairs," he manages to say.
He doesn't miss the brief alarm that crosses Buck's features. So he already left the notes somewhere visible, Eddie infers, and doesn't want him to see them.
All the better to start the conversation they need to have, he thinks. He takes Buck's keys and parks his car before doing the same with his truck. His best friend doesn't fight him (when has he ever, except during their first day at work and that stupid, godawful lawsuit?). He just frowns as Eddie drives both of their cars and waits for him, fidgeting with all of his body as he paces in front of his building.
Once they're going up the stairs, he slows Buck by grabbing his forearm.
"Why are you running?" he asks.
"I don't know, because you almost hit me with your truck?" Buck laughs nervously. "And I know you, something's up. Is Chris okay?"
"Yeah, he's alright."
A couple of other tenants are going down the stairs, so Eddie pulls Buck to him, and they lean against the wall. Breaching each other's personal space just like that is what they do, so Buck goes along, doesn't question it.
"Then why… Eddie, you look like you've been through hell. Come on," his partner points out, and it's him who grabs Eddie's arm and resumes their way up when Eddie freezes.
Hell seems like an adequate description of what he's been living, flashes of Buck's pale face and dead stare passing rapidly behind his eyes, so he just nods jerkily, and Buck squeezes him tighter, urging him along until they reach his apartment.
He sees the blue envelopes before Buck can swipe them to the side. He only takes the one that's meant for him, leaving the rest of the letters on the table, and for the first time in all this craziness, he realizes Buck's will is beside the letters too.
They stare at each other for a long moment, tension heavy in the air around them. The more he stares, the paler Buck gets, gaping at him, eyes filling with tears.
"Eddie, I can explain."
"I think I know what this is," he says tersely because he really, really does.
But there's one unknown variable this time. He's reading the will before he can think better of it, and he can't bite back a sob when he realizes Christopher and him are included in it, right along with Maddie and Jee-Yun.
"You were going to leave me, leave us," he bites out.
A distant part of him realizes he's being fucking hypocritical acting like this (like a scorned lover), after rejecting Buck, after not being honest with his own feelings out of sheer, paralyzing fear.
"Eddie, I'm– I'm sorry, I thought–"
"You thought what? That I'd just carry on as if nothing happened after my best friend killed himself and left me a fucking suicide note to let me know how he was really feeling all this time?"
Buck is making himself smaller against the closed door as Eddie crowds into his space, and he's not the only one crying, Eddie's tears feel like fire against his skin.
"I didn't want you to be mad at me, I was trying to suck it up, like you all do with your problems," Buck whispers, and that sends another stab of pain right through Eddie's chest.
Because he is, he's so angry, but he breathes through it and tries to see what's underneath: for now, it's more anger, but at himself, not at his partner.
He takes a few steps back, reining in his temper, scrubbing a hand on his face. He goes over Buck's letter to him in his head, reminding himself this isn't about him or how it's tearing him to pieces.
He leans against the table and turns to look at his best friend again.
"I didn't mean any of the stupid things I said to you that day at the grocery store, Evan."
Buck shakes his head, a sad smile pulling weakly at the corners of his mouth. "It felt like you did, Eddie. It's okay, you were right."
"No, I was wrong! And I should've apologized ages ago. After it happened, we should've talked about it."
Crossing the few feet between them seems easy, but he can already see Buck shutting down, going miles and miles from him inside his head. Still, it's all he can do to approach him again slowly and take the hands that his partner is tightly clenching into fists, coaxing his fingers open gently.
"I was wrong," he repeats, softer this time. He can't stop shouting, but that's getting him nowhere. "About everything. You didn't leave me and Christopher, back then. I could've called you. I could've reached out. I put all the blame on your shoulders because I missed you so goddamn much, Buck, I couldn't deal with it. It was me who had no excuse, not being next to you when you needed me just as much as I did."
"Eddie, what are you saying?" Buck asks, shaky and disbelieving.
"Even three years ago, I was so fucking terrified of admitting I didn't miss you like a friend or coworker. You were so much more to me already. My partner in life, Chris' other dad, the single most important person in both of our lives. You still are, Buck. I'm sorry I've been such an asshole. I'm sorry I didn't say it back."
"Don't do this to me, please. Don't do this out of pity," Buck's voice breaks, his blue eyes pleading.
"I'm not. I swear to you, it's not pity. I love you, Buck, I–"
"You would say that to save me," Buck cuts in, the conviction in his tone leaving Eddie speechless. "I know you would."
Buck is right. He would do pretty much anything to keep him alive, including lying if he had to.
"If you love me, why didn't you tell me you were scared instead of–" It's Buck who steps away this time, rubbing his mouth. "Instead of making me feel like I ruined everything, instead of pushing me away? Do you know how much that gutted me, Eddie?"
He nods, throat working, because he does know with painstaking detail just how much he hurt Buck.
"Buck…" he cries, expecting his hand to be brushed away when he tries to hold Buck's again.
"You know what's the worst thing? I can't even get mad at you for doing this because I would do the same for you. I would lie through my teeth for the rest of my life, Eddie. I'd tell you a thousand lies every day if it meant you stayed alive."
There's an impasse, and they both just look at each other. He tries to remember to keep breathing and waits for Buck to stop panting, hopes he can look at Eddie and see what he can't convey with words without sounding like he's reading a script, the script Buck needed him to say five weeks ago.
"What can I do for you to believe me?" he asks, and it's probably the wrong thing to say. "I can't imagine my life without you. I already went through months of that, and they were hell , Buck. I got into fucking street fighting without you. I risked going to jail, losing Christopher, losing everything because I forgot how to live my life without you!"
Buck sniffs, muffles a sob behind his palm before speaking. "I was right there, Eddie. I know my dumb choice to go to that lawyer made it harder, but we could still talk. I would've dropped the lawsuit for you, for Christopher, in a heartbeat. I did drop it, to get back to you. You still didn't say anything. It's been years . Why should I believe you now?"
"Because I'm a coward, and I wanted things to stay the same. Because if you left me, as long as we weren't together, I thought I could survive."
"You could still survive," Buck counters, and he about gives up trying to convince him with words. He's shit at them.
"I know I've taken and asked so much out of you already, but please… please give me some time to prove how I feel for you." Tentatively and leisurely, he walks closer and gently cups Buck's face in his hands. "I get that words are wind, that you need more. Let me give it to you."
Buck's lashes brush his thumbs when he blinks, watery eyes fixed on his. Selfishly, Eddie takes the opportunity to caress his birthmark, cherishing the warmth and color there and the life still flowing through Buck's veins.
He's close to begging on his knees when he feels Buck leaning into his touch, arms winding around his back gingerly.
"Okay," he breathes out. "I'll try, Eddie. I… I'll try."
It aches, how the easy physicality they've always shared feels so forced. A few minutes ago, touching each other was as easy as breathing, but now Buck's hands are tense on him, and for all he's promised to try, Eddie can still feel him shivering in his hold and darting looks to both the windows and the door.
"What are you thinking? Tell me," he whispers, leaning his forehead against Buck's gently. "I won't get mad. I just… I'm scared. I don't know what to do."
Buck shakes his head minutely and just holds on to him.
Somehow they make it to the couch. Eddie wraps him in the throw blanket he keeps there and goes into the kitchen to see if he can figure out some food for them both.
He puts the letters and the will in a drawer in a show of trust, an attempt at peace that flies right over his partner's head. Buck is staring right in front of him, seeing nothing, a vacant look in his eyes, and Eddie has a bad feeling about this whole thing.
In the end, he reheats leftovers, just because there's no way he's leaving Buck alone for a second and because he doesn't trust himself not to burn the loft down if he tries cooking.
They sit at the table, Buck at the head, and he reaches for his hand, drawing gentle patterns on his palm with the pad of his thumb.
"I'm here, okay? Even if you just want to curse and yell at me, I'm here."
Buck swallows and doesn't meet his gaze anymore.
"I'm tired."
So after getting him to eat a little, Eddie gets them upstairs to Buck's bed and helps his partner get under the covers. He lies down beside him on top of the comforter and brushes the errant tears that fall from his eyes when he tilts his head towards Eddie.
He sighs, mustering up a smile for Buck. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
The thing is, Buck doesn't wake up again, not entirely. Every few hours, Eddie shakes him awake, gives him water and offers more food. Buck lets him but declines the food, repeating he's tired, and before he knows it, it's close to midnight.
He spends every minute gazing at Buck, noticing every little and big tell of how worn out he is; the furrow of his brow, the small wrinkles around his eyes, the darkness and puffiness beneath them, the dried tear tracks still on his cheeks, his pursed and chapped lips, his day-old stubble. He's definitely not resting, even if he's fast asleep.
After the day he's been having repeatedly, Eddie can relate. He feels like if he takes one wrong step, he'll lose his footing and the strength to get up again. The lump in his throat gets bigger and harder to ignore, the longer he thinks about how Buck is already past that point.
It takes all of him not to reach out and touch his partner again, to reassure himself that he's still alive, but seeing the rise and fall of his chest is enough, even when it stutters with a half formed, unconscious sob every now and then in his sleep.
It's all the comfort Eddie gets to have after how badly he's treated the man he claims to love.
He didn't believe me , he thinks, clenching his jaw. He can't even blame Buck for it. He's done a terrific job at convincing everyone that he's not in fact in love with his best friend, and there's no one he's fooled more about it than Buck.
He shoves whatever he's feeling down (more sorrow than anger, more despair than hope) until he can hardly feel it. It tastes like blood. He swallows some down too, so he figures he bit down on his tongue.
He tries to stay awake, to see if time will literally crawl back around him, but at some point, his eyes fall shut and he knows no more.
***
There's a ray of sunlight piercing into his eyes when he wakes up in his own bed (without Buck), but he doesn't even move to block it, just blinks and endures it.
He screwed things up again. Checking the date confirms that. It’s the same date. The same godawful, cursed day he’s been living. It’s so early his alarm hasn’t gone off yet.
He’s sure he’s aged about ten years, even though he keeps reliving the same day over and over, so technically, he hasn’t gotten older. It’s just his soul that’s aging, wasting away each time he can’t do what Buck needs him to.
With the few minutes he has to take stock, he reevaluates. He’s talked to Buck on the phone, he’s urged him to come clean about his intentions, without success. He’s tried racing to stop Buck, to no avail. He’s tried involving professionals, getting Buck to a place where he won’t be able to hurt himself and where he has people who will help him, but away from his family.
Perhaps that’s the heart of the matter. Eddie hasn’t told the 118. He wonders, briefly, if he’s the one who’s going to end up hospitalized this time and sends a group text to Bobby, Hen, and Chim, asking them to meet him at the station one hour earlier than their shift starts.
They’re awake and reply instantly, assuring Eddie they’ll be there, so he gets up and goes through a quick routine with Christopher, taking him to work since he knows from painful experience he doesn’t have time to do anything else, if he wants to stop Buck from purposefully falling to his own demise.
He leaves Chris with an audiobook in the bunks, kissing his forehead and promising he’ll be back soon, and then he takes the stairs to the loft two at a time, looking at the family he found when he moved to LA while figuring out how best to say what he needs.
He tells them about the minor calls they’re going to get before Dispatch receives Taylor’s call and sends them to Buck’s location in the middle of fucking nowhere, when it’s already too late. He tells them he’s been in this hell of his own making four times now and asks for their help.
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Definitely being looked at by Hen and Chim so they can make sure he’s not feverish or high. The benefit of the doubt, possibly. He knows for sure he wouldn't believe them at face value, not without going through this craziness first.
So it's definitely jarring, seeing realization dawn on their faces, and then just pure horror. Eddie can definitely see himself in them, and it's hard to breathe through the ache in his chest, the desperation, knowing he has to hurry hurry hurry if he wants to save Buck this time. Hopefully for good.
"I think he said goodbye to me a few weeks ago," Bobby admits, tears gathering quickly in his eyes, voice thick. "I should've seen what was going on. He's been subdued, quiet. No reckless rescues. He's not been himself. I thought he'd–"
"Matured? Same, Cap. But honestly, I'd rather he never grew out of it because being selfless and not giving up is who he is, and we've all been too busy to realize he was losing himself, trying to appease you and to get us off his back," Hen takes in a shuddering breath before taking off her glasses to wipe her eyes.
Eddie sees Bobby's Adam's apple moving harshly in his neck. The Captain clearly knows Hen is right and doesn't try to defend himself, just lowers his head and listens.
"You never congratulate him for anything anymore. I've seen the longing looks he throws at us, when you see something we've done and you're proud of it. And we've been fucking relentless, making fun of every little thing he does! He said such wonderful things to me a few weeks ago, and the next day, I was laughing at him, asking him if he knew he wasn't an actual golden retriever to be sad because he didn't get a cookie after one of his rope rescues."
"Yeah, that one was too much, but I still laughed," Chim is full-on sobbing, but Eddie can just stare, no comfort left in him to offer.
He hasn't paid attention to the jokes or the way Buck reacts to any of them being acknowledged for a job well done, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, and he can see the way his best friend was recoiling and smarting from all of it now, getting salt over wounds in the one place he felt he belonged in, in the one place they should've soothed his sores, not make them fucking worse.
"He… I think he said goodbye to me too," Chim manages to say, and Eddie doesn't get to feel left out about Buck not breathing a word of farewell to him in person. Not after he rejected Buck and ruined everything between them.
He doesn't get to, but he still feels anger that he has to swallow down. If he looks beneath it, he’ll find sadness, and he has no room for more of it in him.
"He all but asked me to look after Jee and Maddie. Shit, I was such an idiot. I was too busy feeling flattered to realize he was hurting."
He lets silence hang over their heads like a sentence but only for a moment. He can’t let grief paralyze him. Buck needs him.
"I get we all feel like shit, but I really need to get going. He's going to drive away any moment now," Eddie points out, stomach twisted in knots after glancing at the time.
“Eddie, wait. What else happened? Get us up to speed so we can help,” Hen prompts him, wiping her face again quickly.
So Eddie tries to sum it up quickly, and when he's done, Chimney jumps to his feet and hugs him, babbling, “Oh man, it’s Groundhog Day. I think Buck is your Rita.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snaps.
“It means you have to woo him, Eddie! In the movie, for Phil to escape the time loop, Rita had to fall in love with him,” Chim explains.
"Chim, you know you're my ride or die, but your knowledge of pop culture is not helping right now," Hen cuts in.
“Buck is already in love with me. I fucked it up weeks ago. It’s not about that, I know that much,” he admits because he can at least man up enough to tell them.
They don't need to know his first and only attempt at saying 'I love you' back backfired spectacularly. After all, it didn't even happen. That day is gone now.
“Okay, so maybe it’s about getting Buck to open up to you. Getting him to tell you how he's been feeling and accept help,” Bobby states, and the way he doesn’t bat an eyelash at what Eddie just said makes him feel like an ass.
He checks Chim and Hen's faces. They don't look surprised either.
Of course they know Buck is in love with him. Eddie is starting to think maybe he knew all along too, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it since it meant having to deal with his own feelings, and how very not ready he was to let go of the fear of being left behind by the one person besides Shannon he's dared to share his and Christopher's lives with.
If Buck left him, it would've destroyed him, but now he might lose Buck permanently, to death , so Eddie's fear of not being enough for him to stay is inconsequential.
Now is not the time to dwell on that anyway. They’re literally on a countdown, and the goal is to get to Buck before he can hurt himself and then figure out what’s next later.
“He clams up whenever I ask if he’s okay,” he says. “I don’t know what else to do.”
He’s also starting to doubt he’s the best person for this. But it’s only him trapped in the same fucking day, so obviously there’s something he can do, he just hasn’t gotten there yet.
“I’ll get us offline, and we'll go to Buck’s apartment in my truck,” Bobby offers, already standing up. “Maybe he needs us all there to show our support.”
“We’ve been too distant, Bobby. All of us have made mistakes. I don’t think an ambush is going to make him trust us,” Hen says, shaking her head. “I think we should tell Athena and send her with Eddie. She’ll get through to him, without making him feel attacked or like his ability to do this job is on the line. Trust me, she’s done a lot of reading on this, after May’s attempt.”
“What about Maddie?” Chim asks. “I mean, she will probably think we’re crazy, but she’ll check on Buck all the same. And she–she tried to kill herself too, she’ll understand what Buck’s going through better than any of us. I think she’s the best option.”
Eddie knew of her PPD, but not that it had gotten that bad. None of them did, judging by the way they stare at Chim.
"It's definitely their parents, isn't it? The common denominator," Chim rambles. "I keep telling Maddie they're not good people, but she always defends them, saying they're just bad parents."
"You're either good people and good parents, or you're not," Bobby agrees. "And we're definitely talking about this later, but for now, call Maddie. Fill her in. Eddie, you should go."
"I'll get Karen to pick Christopher up," Hen offers. "Go. Call if you think Buck wants to see us."
Eddie is already running to the stairs. He hears Bobby calling for backup so they can get off work as he's dashing to his truck, driving off as he mutters a mess of curses and prayers so this isn't another wasted opportunity.
So far, whatever keeps bringing him back to the same day feels like a curse, but he'll definitely take it as a blessing, if he manages to do what's right and save Buck.
He knows he's driving too fast, that his reflexes are not in peak condition. Yet he still runs a red light, thinking he has enough time since no one is coming from the other side.
He only sees the large truck when it's too late. Reality becomes slow motion as he's trying to turn the steering wheel and avoid the crash.
He thinks about Christopher, about Buck. What will happen to them, if Eddie is too hurt to keep trying to fix this mess?
He braces for impact. A hard shock goes through his body, like a lightning bolt hitting him dead center, and then darkness takes him.
Notes:
there's a playlist! thanks to EstherCloyse and Juniper81182 for the suggestions ❤️🩹 you guys are great. I'll keep editing it to add more songs probably, but for now it's mostly sad songs.
Chapter 5
Notes:
sorry about the wait (and the cliffhanger), hope you guys are still enjoying this
Chapter Text
He gasps awake, choking on nothing. His mouth is empty, his throat clear, yet it feels filled with blood and vomit. He stumbles to the bathroom and throws up, barely able to kneel over the toilet in time.
He dry heaves for minutes that feel never-ending, cold sweat plastering the ratty t-shirt he uses for bed to his back.
Minute tremors go through his body, but he blinks and remembers. Breathes in and out and realizes.
The time loop reboots itself, if he's the one kicking the bucket. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and then muffles a scream behind his teeth and forearm. He should be dead, but he's not.
He doesn't know what it means. That he gets to fuck up as much as he wants, he supposes, and he'll be thrown right back to the beginning every single time until he saves Buck. It’s sort of comforting, but he’s not really a fan of close encounters with death. He’s had enough of those, yet it’s the first time he can still feel icy claws trying to scratch and grab him, to take him away. If he closes his eyes, he can see shadows crawling all over him after the truck hit him, in those precious seconds between life and death. It makes him want to puke again.
He's never been a practicing Catholic, not really. Only when he was a kid, and his parents took him to church every Sunday. He doesn't think it counts, but some things stayed with him, and he absent-mindedly crosses himself. He figures it can't hurt, at this rate.
He mumbles quiet thanks and rubs at his eyes before going to hug Christopher tightly. It's early, but he rouses him and tells him to work on his PT exercises on his own today.
He's reheating the waffles, phone pressed close to his ear with his shoulder, when Maddie picks up.
"Hey, I know you're going to think I'm crazy." He's so tired, and his voice trembles, like a staccato of his fear telegraphing itself through the phone. "Buck is going to kill himself. He's going to drive out of LA before eight today and jump off a cliff. There are letters for all of us, I don't know where exactly, but they're in his apartment. Chim said… he said you'd almost done it too, once. That you'd understand, better than me. Please, go talk to Buck. Stop him. He's slipping through my fingers, I can't… I can't– Maddie, I can't lose him again."
He's weeping by the end of his nonsensical rambling, sobbing mutely into the speaker of his phone as he moves around the kitchen, preparing breakfast and lunch for Chris, which only entails reheating or putting away food Buck already cooked for them, and doesn't that bite? Buck's life is so entwined with theirs already, what fucking difference did it make, for Eddie to take the last leap and kiss him, hold him in his arms, admit how head over heels he's always been for him? Doing it at any moment except when Buck could accuse him of playing pretend to save him?
He turns on the coffee maker on autopilot, and for once, he's glad fucking Hildy knows how he likes it.
He hears Maddie crying too, as he waits for her reply.
"Oh my God. Okay. I'm getting an Uber. Will you be there? He'll need you too, Eddie. You and Christopher, you are his world."
He lets out a humorless laugh that might be closer to a loud sob because yeah, he's learned that much. He should've known, so much sooner, but he knows that now.
"Yeah, I'll be there. I'll give you both space though. Just text me if you need me, and I'll join you."
" Okay. Okay… I–I'll let you know ."
The call disconnects. Eddie stares at his phone until something smells burned, and he curses.
***
Buck is about to hop into his jeep when he sees Maddie through the corner of his eye, getting out of a car with Jee-Yun in her arms.
Her face is wet with tears, and Buck barely has time to turn towards her before he has an arm full of his sister and niece.
Maddie is shaking, so he holds her closer, steadying her, careful of Jee babbling hello between them.
"Maddie, what's wrong?" he asks softly into her hair. "I'm here. I've got you."
All thoughts of him driving away for good are pushed to the back of his mind, his attention solely on his sister.
Maddie laughs, though it sounds pained, like she's just been slapped.
"Where–where are you going, Evan? Can we come with you?"
For a terrifying second, he holds his breath because there's something in his sister's eyes that makes him feel like she knows. But it can't be.
"Hiking. The trail isn't really kid friendly," he answers, and it's true enough. "C'mon, let's go upstairs."
He takes Jee-Yun in his arms, holding her securely to his side as Maddie all but clings to him, sobbing into his chest. They take the elevator to his apartment, and his mind races.
He's always been prone to imagine the worst, so his mind is already conjuring awful scenarios. Did something happen to Chimney, did they have a fight? Did they break up again?
Did... did Chimney hit Maddie? It feels wrong just to consider it, since it's not like him punching Buck in the face is any indication of his violent tendencies. Buck just deserved to be punched, had it coming. He'd never hurt his sister, not like Doug did.
Right?
He looks at Maddie carefully, trying not to stare. As they enter his loft, Buck doesn't see anything overt; no bruises on her face, no limping, no wincing when she moves. It doesn't mean she's alright, but it calms him down a bit, enough to get Jee a thick blanket and the toys he keeps for her, so she can play on the floor beside the couch while they talk.
He pushes the coffee table to the other corner of the room, not wanting his niece to hit her little head if he's not looking. He sets her down once it's safe, and she smiles up at him, snuggling the stuffed giraffe that's always been her favorite here.
By the time he turns back to Maddie, she's holding the letters he's written for everyone in her hands, more silent tears trailing down her cheeks, her eyes wide and sad.
Of course he was dumb enough to forget he left everything right on the table. Absently, he's surprised he doesn't feel scared at being truly caught. There's some kind of emotion prickling at him through the fogginess of misery and hurt. It's not a good one. He wonders if it's guilt.
He knows he could lie, tell her it was just some assignment Dr. Copeland had him doing, and that he happened to update his will as well. But he's never been good at lying, and he owes her so much better than that.
"It's true, isn't it?" It's a question, but she keeps going, not giving him a chance to answer. "I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. You've been thinking about killing yourself."
"Maddie," he gasps at her bluntness, but she shakes her head.
"Don't tell me I'm exaggerating because I've been where you are, so I get how dark and hopeless things can look. I get how it can seem like the only way out."
"What do you–" He does a double take. "You– when?"
There's absolutely no way his sister tried to hurt herself without him knowing. That's what he desperately wants to believe, but he knows better. He knows Maddie doesn't tell him everything, that she’s yet another person that will always consider him a child– perhaps a manchild, at best. And that always stings.
He’s not the child she left behind the first time back in Pennsylvania, yet it feels like she’s never going to see him as anything other than that.
"When I left, after dropping Jee in her bath." She wipes her eyes with a hand and guides him to sit down, dropping the letters on her lap.
He wants to put them away, out of sight, but he doesn't try to take them from Maddie. He's too disgusted at himself for not noticing she'd been losing herself so much last year. Postpartum depression is supposed to be easy to spot if you know the person, right? And yet Buck saw nothing, only deep exhaustion. Maybe fear, if he remembers right. But she'd just become a mother, and he'd thought that was normal.
His sister wanted to kill herself, and he didn’t notice. It just makes him realize what a sorry excuse of a brother he is. She's definitely not going to miss his sorry ass when he's gone.
"I drove to a beach and then walked into the ocean. The current was pulling me in, and it would've been so easy to just let go," she confesses quietly, like she's worried Jee-Yun might hear and understand.
She turns to look at her, smiling through her tears for a moment. He knows what she's thinking before she says it; she had a daughter and a boyfriend that needed her, two very good reasons to fight, to find her way back to shore.
He thinks about Christopher, about Eddie. But they're not his to claim, to fight for. They will never be, and that's for the better. Buck will never be enough to make them happy. He will only be a burden, if he stays.
He squeezes the hand she's holding, wraps it around both of his.
"Thank you for telling me." He means it, but that only gets Maddie to sob louder, and he rushes to hug her, rubbing his hands on her back. "Hey, it's okay. I get why you didn't tell me before. Does Chim know?"
Maddie nods and pulls away slightly to look at him.
"What do you mean, you get it?"
"Well, I wouldn't have been able to help you." It's really obvious how useless he would've been, even more so than usual. "And you knew what to do. You took yourself to that clinic in Boston, sorted yourself out, and came back to your family. That's amazing, Maddie. You’re so strong."
She's always been stronger than him. If he thinks about it, it makes sense she's been able to hold onto life, and he isn't.
"That's not why…" She shakes her head and cups his face in her hands, a frown on her face. "Evan, you're my little brother. I'm supposed to take care of you, not pile more problems on you, and that's all I did when I first came to LA. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry, not because you couldn't help me. I know you would've done anything for me."
He stays quiet, even though he doesn't agree with her. They're supposed to take care of each other, it's not a one-way street. And Buck barely did anything, it was Athena who found Maddie after Doug took her, Buck was only there to catch her, and she was never a problem he had to solve.
"Will you talk to me? Please." She brushes her thumbs under his eyes, even though he's not crying. His eyes are stinging but bone-dry. "Where is this coming from?"
Back in the day, he thought he could tell her anything. But that changed after she left the first time, and when she never replied to his postcards, and he finally understood he couldn't count on her after the ladder truck bombing, after almost losing his leg and his job, only for her to advise him to move on and get another job, like she'd done to escape Doug, like it could just be that easy for him.
He knows it's not fair, yet sometimes he can still hear and feel her dismissal of his feelings, when he tried to explain being a firefighter is his life. It felt like trying to be heard by his parents all over again because she didn't listen at all, and he understood it was because his feelings still didn't matter, that they never would, to anyone.
"Does your therapist know?" she asks, when he stays quiet.
He shakes his head and gently takes her hands in his, getting them off his cheeks. He doesn't let go, but he needs the distance, and she seems to realize it because she sits straighter and keeps waiting for him to speak.
"What does it feel like?” he replies with a question. “Being needed, what is it like?”
“Evan,” she gasps, and he hates seeing her crying, hates it so much more because he's causing it. “I need you! We all do. Eddie called me, he’s terrified of losing you.”
He doesn’t know why it hurts worse than having his sister find his suicide notes for them, but it does; finding out Eddie knows what he’s up to, and that he still isn’t here with him, even if it is to yell at him to snap out of it, to suck it up, like they all do.
Why can’t you see my side of things?
Because that’s all you see!
Maybe it’s because it’s a lie; Eddie doesn’t need him, not in the same way Buck does anyway. The absence he’ll leave in his best friend’s life will be easily filled by the team, and once he finds a girlfriend that he falls in love with. He’s such an amazing man, that’s just a matter of time, and then Buck will be nothing but a memory.
Selfishly, he hopes Eddie always misses him at work. At least, he can feel somewhat confident he will, for a while. No one else from the 118 will notice he's gone except for Eddie, and he's okay with that.
“You care about me, but you don’t need me,” he says at length, matter-of-factly.
It’s stupid, to fixate on it. It sounds like he resents Maddie for making her own family, when in reality he’s so happy for her sometimes he cries about it, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling abandoned. Jealous. Adrift. Like he doesn’t belong anywhere; a hot air balloon, untethered, that will never be missed while it's lost in the sky, a hot air balloon that is just better popping out of existence.
His therapist has tried to teach Buck to only need himself to be happy, to stop being so fucking co-dependent, but that’s led him nowhere except to feeling emptier, so hollow it feels like there’s an entire stormy sea raging inside him, cold and cruel and bottomless, pulling him in and in until he can’t reach the surface anymore.
“Of course I need you! You’re my brother, and I love you.” Maddie grabs his face again since he’s looking away from her, and he can't help but flinch.
His sister looks so heartbroken by that small aborted movement, Buck resolves to stay put and stop being so much trouble for her.
He knows this will end with Maddie taking him to a clinic. He also knows there’s no point in telling her he’s thought about getting himself admitted, in trusting his therapist fully, but he hasn’t done it because they will put him on anti-depressants. The pills will make him drowsy, at the very least, and they have so many more side effects. He’s done his fair share of midnight research to be hyper aware of everything that could go wrong, of how hard it is to find a good combination of drugs that work on you.
The chances of any Captain (especially Bobby) letting him work while on medication are slim, he's learned that by now. His life as a firefighter will be over and done if he starts treatment, so there’s really only one way out for him.
He doesn’t say any of that. Maddie will just tell him he can get a new job like it’s a haircut they’re talking about.
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he says instead, in a very small voice, part of him hoping Maddie can’t hear him. “Being needed by someone, as much as I need them.”
She has that with Chim, he can see it. She has her own little family unit, with him and Jee. And he– well, if he deluded himself thinking he had that with Eddie and Chris for a while there, he’s come to his senses now. He knows better.
If he had it, truly had it, and then lost it because of the lawsuit, he really hopes he’s going to one of the circles of hell. He’ll take all the endless torture, and he’ll know he deserves it.
He hates himself so much, he’ll probably thank whoever is punishing him for his stupid, unforgivable mistakes.
“I know it’s not healthy,” he chuckles mirthlessly, only peeking at his sister for a second. “But I just… I need that, Maddie.”
“You have that, Evan,” she insists, so persistent. There’s something fragile in her voice that he’s never heard before, and he frowns as he looks back at her. “With me, with Eddie, with the 118. None of us would ever be the same without you. You can’t trust the darkness in your head, so please trust me instead. That voice that says you’re worthless, that we’re better off without you? It’s lying. I’m telling the truth.”
He shakes his head and starts shaking– or maybe he’s been shaking, ever since he started crying without realizing. He bites his lip to stop it from trembling and just keeps shaking his head as Maddie presses on.
“You are the kindest, most selfless person I’ve ever known. Your heart is so big, it still amazes me, and I've known you my whole life. I know you've been running yourself to the ground, trying to please everyone you love, but your happiness matters too. It matters so much, Evan. Please, let me help you.”
“You don’t get it,” he whispers, though it feels like he’s shouting, his throat dry and tight. “You don’t get it! No one else has to fight to be loved, just me. I’m so tired of being your responsibility, of being exhausting. That’s all I am, Maddie. I have to go.”
He sees the window and thinks jumping from his apartment might as well do the trick and take him out. The urge is so strong he has to hold on to Maddie’s wrists and shut his eyes not to do it. He remembers there are people walking outside, and that he could hurt them, and he sees himself falling on top of an innocent person, just killing them instantly by being weak and selfish and–
Suddenly, he’s violently sick, and Maddie is pushing his head between his knees and rushing to get a bin so he can throw up in it.
He dry heaves into it, sobs wracking his frame as he hears Maddie talking to someone. He doesn’t understand a word, but after a moment, he can feel Eddie’s arm around him, and his hand pushing his hair back as Maddie wipes his mouth and chin gently with a paper towel.
He turns his head, breath stuttering at the same time his heart raises in his chest as Eddie grips his nape and pushes their foreheads together.
“I love you, Evan. Please stay," Eddie asks, voice thick, and it feels like the big kind of 'I love you', not the kind he brushed Buck's feelings off with. "Don't go where I can't have your back. Stay with me. I know I messed up everything between us, and I will never stop regretting it. I was so scared of losing you, but I'm ready to say it back now. I'm ready to show you, just please don't go."
He shakes his head again because as wonderful as this should make him feel, he's painfully aware the whole reason this is happening at all is because Maddie (or Eddie, or both) found his letters for everyone and promptly freaked out, that this is just preventive damage control, nothing else.
Eddie's confession sits heavy between his ribs, cutting his breath in half instead of helping him feel better. It's what he needed to hear, all those weeks ago, but now it rings weirdly in his ears because it's not true. It can't be.
Tainted love is all he's ever received, all he's ever deserved. He's sure if he gets more of it, it'll poison him and kill him from the inside out.
His parents' love, if it was ever there, was overshadowed by grief. Maddie's love has been filled with guilt from the start because of the secret she had to keep. All of his hookups only loved him for an hour tops, it was purely sexual love, and that was okay at the time. All Buck wanted was an excuse to touch and be touched, to hold and be held, and for a long time, it had felt like sex was his only excuse to get it. Abby's love… it hurts to even think about it, but she used him. She'd been lonely and needed someone to make her feel wanted, and Buck bent himself sideways to make sure she knew she was the most incredible woman he'd ever been with.
Eddie's love, it used to be sincere and true. It was Buck who ruined it with something Eddie didn't want or need from him, but now even from his partner's side, that love is laden with fear and guilt.
"I can't," confessing it wrenches a whimper out of his throat, and he covers his face with his hands, pulling away from them.
There's no use in fighting, he realizes distantly. They'll take him to a psychiatric ward, and if he tries to off himself by hitting his head repeatedly against the wall, he'll end up in a padded room, treated like an animal.
He'll lose what little is left of himself, whether his body keeps breathing or not. He lost his chance to break free and to free them from the burden of his presence in their lives.
He's surprised they don't try to make him promise he’ll get better, that they just stay and pretend to keep him company while they’re actually keeping guard . He loses track of time, letting Eddie hold him close again and Maddie rub his back but staying stiff in their arms, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to decide enough is enough and take him away so that professionals can have a shot at untangling the mess in his head.
This is what he wanted, isn’t it? For them to notice, to care. But not like this , he moans inside his own head, not because they don’t want to deal with my death.
When he opens his eyes, Athena is there, kneeling in front of him. The sun has moved outside the windows. It’s past noon, and he’s never seen her so scared, not since Jeffery Hudson took Harry.
“Buckaroo,” her voice cracks, and she’s the first to just hover, her hands reaching to him but not touching. “Listen to me. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. It’ll pass, one day. It doesn’t have to be now, or anytime soon, and I will always love you, no matter what. I love you so much, we all do, and I’m sorry I haven’t shown you enough.”
He blinks as tears drop from the eyes of the strongest woman he’s ever known, confused and flabbergasted because it can’t be because of him, not really. This has to be about her own children, not Buck. Athena had hated his guts at first, that much he's sure of. She had no way of knowing how close to home seeing someone try to murder their own child felt to Buck, how witnessing the lack of a love that is supposed to be natural had wrecked him then. And sure, they’d made a truce later, saving that kid from the robbers, but she can’t have forgotten how messed up he is, how weak and needy and stupid he is.
He knows it will burn, when he leans into her, when he welcomes her touch. Her arms are tight and warm around him, and he feels her sighing into his neck. His hands cling to her back on their own accord. It doesn’t feel right, Athena holding him in her arms. It hurts instead, like a scabbed wound that’s just been scraped raw.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps against her shoulder.
He never meant to remind Athena of almost losing her daughter, and he wishes he could be in the woods now, jumping before anyone can rush to fake they need him.
When he raises his head and sees Bobby standing behind her, he freezes, breath catching in his throat as his Captain crouches beside Athena.
Not having Bobby's support, that has always wrecked him the most, so much he even forgot he still had to fight to keep Eddie’s friendship and tossed it in the trash along with everything else after he coughed up blood in front of everyone and ruined his whole life.
Bobby gave Buck a first and second and third chance, and then left him in the dirt after the pulmonary embolism. Buck upended his whole fucking life when he realized his Captain didn't want or need him in his firehouse anymore, and as much as he regrets suing the fire department, he knows there was no alternative for him. It was either going back by blunt force, hurting everyone's feelings with his selfishness, or succumbing to his intrusive thoughts, the ones that kept reminding him taking himself out could be so easy and painless, like ripping a band-aid off. Why struggle, when no one truly wanted him around?
He wishes he’d taken everyone out of their misery back then, including himself. Maybe he says something to that extent because Bobby’s face crumbles, and he feels Eddie start to shake beside him.
It's not the first time he's seen Bobby crying. Knowing it's his fault, it makes his blood run cold. He’s not worthy of any of their tears, but Bobby has already lost so much. Making him suffer reminds him how vile he is, deep down.
He's so fucking worthless. He doesn't understand why they're trying to stop him.
He pulls away from Athena, curling into himself, folding his legs so he can lean his head on his knees and not look at anyone.
"Bobby, you don't have to…" he trails off. "I get it, why nothing I ever did was good enough for you."
“Buck, you’ve always been good enough for me, more than enough.” He huffs in disbelief, but Bobby keeps going, and his words are impossible to block from his ears. They’ve always been so loud to him. “I messed up when I started seeing you as a son, my son. I was so scared of losing you, I still am. I taught you how to tie a tie, how to cook, but you already knew how to be a good man and an amazing firefighter. It runs in your veins, Buck. I’m a legacy firefighter, but seeing you throw yourself into the line of fire has taught me more about the job than my grandfather and father ever did.”
“Stop lying ,” his voice breaks when he cuts in, and he flinches when Eddie tries to wipe his cheek. “You’re all here because you don’t want to deal with the guilt, not because you love me!”
“I’m not lying, Evan. I love you. I held you to higher standards than I did everyone else, and I shouldn’t have, not without telling you. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I gave you all the lectures, the discipline, but held the love I feel for you to myself. I’m so sorry, son. I’m so sorry.”
Bobby is slow in his movements; he stands and sits next to him first, and Buck wants to kick out and run away, but his body is heavy and uncoordinated, and he’s surrounded.
He doesn’t need to look to know Eddie and Maddie are holding their breaths, waiting for him to accept the apology, the comfort, the help, everything they’re offering him.
Bobby opens his arms, turning to face him, a clear invitation for him to fall apart against his chest. It takes him a long moment to accept it, but the warmth and strength of the embrace doesn’t make the urge to go away disappear, it doesn’t fix the hopelessness that’s eating him alive. His arms reach around Bobby’s back gingerly, scared about this being true and about it being all a dream in equal measure.
Bobby just holds him tighter when Buck’s grip stays shy.
Athena reaches up from where she’s still kneeling in front of him and holds both of them close, kisses Buck’s temple with so much sweetness he’s sure he's hallucinating this whole thing.
There's just no way they care so much about him. He's never done anything to deserve this much love, this tenderness and care.
“We’re going to be right here with you, all of us. I promise you, you will never be alone again, baby,” Athena vows fiercely, breathing into his hair, holding his head to her chest, and he wants to believe her so badly.
But it's too much, too late.
He pushes away from them slowly and wipes his cheeks, though the tear tracks are dry already, uncomfortably pulling at his skin. His chest hurts so much, it's like he's having a heart attack, but he knows it's just sheer panic, terror at realizing he can't give them what they want anymore.
Someone comes in then, and he doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Hen and Chim. They’re panting like they just ran all the way up to his floor, worried they’ll be too late, as if Buck could do a damn thing with everyone there.
He could run, lock himself in the bathroom and grab a razor. If he aims for the carotid and gets it, not even Hen would be able to save him.
He pushes the thought away because, as much as it is tempting, having the people he once thought of as his family soaked in his blood just to end his misery is not what he wants. It’d be too much like a punishment for them when all they deserve is to be free of him once and for all.
“Buck, I’m so sorry. I know you don’t believe what we’re saying right now, that we’ve hurt you too much,” Hen says, her tone soft and patient. He wraps his arms around himself, hating how earnest she sounds. “But we’ll prove it to you. We’ll prove how important you are to us. Just let us try, please.”
Chimney stays one step behind Hen. He knows because he keeps his gaze on their boots.
A kitchen knife would do too . He sharpened them recently and thought about stabbing himself the whole time. But with Chim and Hen and Eddie and Maddie right beside him, his chances of surviving are just too high.
“Hey, bud, I… I’m so sorry too,” Chim apologizes, voice wavering. Buck blinks, just staring at the floor, imagining it covered in his own blood. “You’ve been the best brother-in-law a guy could ask for, and I’ve been an ass to you more often than not. I thought– I really thought it was just ribbing, Buck, I never meant to hurt you.”
Subconsciously, he brushes his fingertips against his left eye. It’s where his birthmark is and where Chimney punched him. The mark will forever stay on his face, but it’s the bruise that’s no longer there that smarts from time to time, a reminder that if he fucks up, he will get what’s coming to him.
“Shit, I–I never even said sorry about that, did I? For hitting you. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, I was just so angry. I needed someone to blame for losing Maddie, and you were there, and…”
“I get it,” he rasps, at the same time Maddie shouts, “You did what!? You hit my brother? How could you do that?”
Athena quickly ushers Maddie and Chimney outside, but their voices are still loud, and he’s struck with the realization he might just have cost them their relationship. He should speak up and try to reassure Maddie it wasn't as bad as it sounds, he should be trying to fix it, but he’s so tired.
People make mistakes, doesn’t mean you give up on them, right? Except he seems to be the only one willing to keep fighting for everyone he loves, no matter what they do, no matter how drained he is.
After Athena joins his sister and Chimney in the hallway, he stands up and goes upstairs to pack. Eddie follows him, he feels his eyes on him as he shoves clothes and toiletries into his duffel bag, but he doesn’t turn around. He’s done enough damage, and Maddie and Chimney’s shouts are still going strong, reminding him that much.
“You read my letter,” he hears himself say.
“Yeah, I did,” Eddie replies, his hands stopping Buck’s jerky movements to hold them in his. “Hey, wait. Look at me. Don’t do this. You don’t have to go anywhere, Buck. We’ll get you in an outpatient program. The doctors will allow it, as long as you’re not alone.”
He brushes Eddie’s hands off to zip the bag and finally faces him. There’s something horrible and all-encompassing swirling in the pit of his stomach, a mix of nausea and pain so deep that it makes black spots appear in the corner of his vision.
“I’d rather go, Eddie,” he rasps out. “I’d rather go, before you resent me.”
Before he becomes a chore. Everyone having to accommodate their busy schedules to babysit him, even though they couldn’t be bothered to go out for drinks for an hour with him, back when they thought he was okay.
He thinks Eddie looks brokenhearted, absolutely crushed, but it’s probably just guilt, isn’t it? He’s so good, so noble, he’d carry the weight of Buck’s choice if he let him.
“I could never resent you.” It’s a little hysterical, the way Eddie assures him of that, so he frowns and waits for him to go on. “I could never hate you, Evan, not even… not even if you killed yourself and left me behind. Please, trust me.”
“I trust you,” he says. Just not on this , is left unspoken. He shoulders the duffel bag and adds, “But it’s better this way, Eddie, for everyone.”
“Not for you, it’s not!” Eddie objects, but he just takes the stairs and asks Athena to take him to the hospital.
Maddie and Eddie come with him, sit on his sides as Bobby rides shotgun with his wife. The ride is uneventful, and though the silence doesn’t last more than a couple of minutes, he doesn’t engage in their conversation and just focuses on breathing in and out because his chest is burning, and he doesn’t want to pass out and be even more of a burden.
Their love is a razorblade against his skin. Sometimes it goes smoothly, sometimes it nicks him, sometimes it cuts him so deep that it’s a wonder he’s still alive.
But the truth is he’s already bled himself dry, holding onto it too tightly.
There’s no fixing this, no going back in time.
Chapter 6
Notes:
this took a lot out of me, hopefully it doesn't suck as much as I think it does.
thank you for reading and commenting, it means a lot to me 💜
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They’re back from one of Christopher’s parent-teacher meetings. All his teachers love him and have nothing but praise to offer, and Eddie’s chest should hurt from all the puffing out he’s been doing.
It’s just nice, knowing he’s doing a good job with his son, and having Buck’s support means the world too. He’s always more at ease when his best friend can tag along and be with him during the meetings. Carla is great, but having the one person that he trusts would raise Chris the same way he’s doing, that’s exactly what he needs, and he’s got that whenever Buck sits beside him in front of the teachers at school and beams at him, happy and proud and like he thinks Eddie is the best dad in the whole world (he’s said that to him, more than once).
It still blindsides him, when Buck turns from stirring bechamel sauce in a pan and says, “I knew our son was the brightest kid in the world, but it’s always nice to hear it.”
It’s basically what Eddie had just been thinking, a mirror of his own pride, but he can’t get past the fact Buck just called Christopher their son.
It’s… he can’t deny it, but he doesn’t know how to react. Acknowledging it’s true would bring a whole set of issues that he doesn’t want to deal with because he’s aware best friends usually don’t co-parent kids. So he pretends he didn’t hear it, after probably freezing for too fucking long.
Buck seems busy with not burning the sauce and follows Eddie’s lead easily once he finds his voice and talks about work instead.
During dinner, he pretends he doesn’t see the dejected, almost scared look in Buck’s eyes. Christopher is quick to pick up on it and engage him in conversation, so Eddie lets them eat quickly and go watch the astronomy documentary they’ve been talking about all week in the living room.
He stays behind to load the dishwasher and put the leftovers away, a familiar sense of dread coiling in his stomach. It’s different from having a clerk call Ana Christopher’s mom but not by a lot.
At least he’s not having a panic attack.
This time, waking up comes with a splitting headache along with the ache in his chest, the place Buck left empty and wounded ever since he first died.
He turns his alarm off with a fist, surprised his phone doesn't crack with it. When Chris comes to berate him about oversleeping, a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes, Eddie checks the date robotically.
It's yesterday again, a little over seven in the morning. He's not even surprised anymore.
He sobs quietly, pushing his fingers into his eyes, remembering the clusterfuck that was trying to get everyone else involved and the memory that assaulted him before waking up.
Why is he so fucking stupid? He keeps hurting Buck, no matter what he does. He’s been hurting Buck for so long perhaps this is purgatory for his mistakes, for his lack of courage, and he will wake up after that first time that Buck died, only to find out there’s no fixing it. But that’s a rabbit hole he can’t fall into, not when there’s still a chance for him to catch the man he loves before he falls.
Truth is, he doesn’t know what else to do. If apologies and good intentions from the people he considers his family aren’t what Buck needs, then what could it possibly be?
I should’ve killed myself then, when I realized it was you holding me back from work, that no one wanted me back.
Buck had said it so casually to Bobby, yet it still feels like an earthquake destroying Eddie from his core. He should’ve checked on his best friend so much more after the truck bombing, after the pulmonary embolism, the tsunami, after everything that happened to him in such rapid succession, and there’s really no excuse he can give to forgive himself, let alone to ask for Buck’s forgiveness and love.
Yet…
There’s one thing he hasn’t tried, and if he wastes another loop on it, what’s a little more pain to swallow? It might break him apart for good, knowing how Buck’s lips feel against his, confessing his feelings to see him smile as bright as the sun only for him not to remember a thing when time reboots itself, but he’s gotta try.
He’s certain now that this is something he should’ve done a long time ago. Before the loop, before Buck decided to jump, back when Bobby pointed out to him that he was always going to have pieces of him missing, that he was never getting over Shannon, but that he still deserved a second chance at having a family all the same.
Still feeling unhinged, he calls Buck, scrubbing at his face half-heartedly after one last sob. Suck it up, he tells himself, soldiering on, as if those insensitive words could work better on him than they did on Buck.
His partner picks up on the second ring, easy as you please, teasing him about burning already cooked breakfast, and Eddie tells him to stay put.
"We're going out. To the zoo. There's a new koala exhibit," he announces, adamant. Of course the only reason he knows that tidbit of information is Buck himself sharing it a few weeks ago.
"Eddie, it's Thursday. You have work, and Christopher has school." Buck sounds worried now. "You know that, right? Are you okay?"
He's not okay. Buck isn't either, and it takes all his strength not to break down at having his best friend concerned about him when he's fucking planning to off himself in a couple of hours.
He convinces his partner to wait for them (makes him promise and promise Christopher, which has Buck's voice cracking a little), and Christopher cheers at being told they're taking the day off to spend with his Buck.
He texts Bobby, says he has a family emergency and won't make it to his shift. Cap tries calling him right after getting the message, but Eddie is on the phone with Chris' school, giving them the same explanation for his son's absence.
Then they're off to Buck's loft, waffles wrapped to eat together there while they wait for the zoo to open, and Buck opens the door with a puzzled grin on his face, his apartment smelling of coffee for them and hot cocoa for Christopher.
He’s whisking blueberry sauce too, because of course he is. It's Eddie’s favorite, and Buck knows that he likes it better when it’s freshly made and still hot.
He’s glad he has the excuse to pour the drinks for them, and he can wipe at a few tears that escape from his eyes, his back turned as he gets a grip on how unworthy he feels of Buck’s every gesture of love.
He’s let fear dictate his actions for too long though, and even if his heart is threatening to burst out of his throat with how scary it is to take the last leap, he knows it’s the right thing to do.
So he buys tickets for the zoo online as they eat and sits so close to Buck their thighs are flushed together. His best friend is looking at him through his lashes, the tip of his ears pink, and he feels like the biggest, luckiest idiot alive.
Because really, how could he ever think the warmth he feels inside when they're like this was platonic? He's so in love, and allowing himself to feel it for the first time, it's hurting his teeth. He pecks Buck's cheek when Christopher is distracted, checking the exhibits that he wants to visit first on his phone.
Buck stills, looks at him in shock. Eddie leans closer again, not caring Christopher is watching (trusting he's going to be happy about this development), and kisses the corner of his lips, lingering, brushing his stubble against Buck's.
Chris shrieks in excitement, asks, "Are you finally dating?"
He watches Buck closely as he replies, "This can be a date, if Buck is okay with it."
"I'd like that." There's an edge of something fragile and soft in both his voice and his blue, blue eyes, and Eddie pecks his lips this time, quick but firm, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist.
He looks for where Buck keeps the letters as they're getting ready to go, offering to clean up. When his partner goes to the bathroom, he starts opening all of his drawers quietly and finds them in the kitchen, right under the cutlery, easy to find but also easy to miss.
It guts him, what's at stake here.
"I want to call Buck dad too," Christopher whispers to him, just as Eddie is closing the drawer, pretending he didn't see anything there, pretending he hasn’t seen the sunshine in his life going out too many times after years of anguish Eddie was too blind to see. "Would that be okay?"
"We'd both like that a lot, son," Eddie lowers his tone and crouches so he's at Chris' level. "Buck really needs us right now. We have to make sure he knows we love him more than anything."
Christopher nods resolutely and asks Eddie to take lots of pictures, so they can put some on Buck's fridge. He doesn't really draw much anymore, so the drawings displayed on it are old, and so are the couple of pictures Buck has on his countertop and bedside table.
He wonders if that was around the time Buck started to feel like he didn't matter. The photos are all before the bombing and Buck's leg injury, of that day they were fooling around at May’s graduation party, and Eddie can't help but wonder if that was the last time his partner was happy.
***
They spend the visit at the zoo walking a little behind an overexcited Christopher, Eddie's hand holding Buck's, squeezing whenever someone congratulates them for having a beautiful family.
It's something that's always happened, even back during the first Christmas they shared, when Shannon had just come back. Eddie never felt the need to correct anyone. The one thing he regrets is not seeing the longing in Buck's eyes as he thanks people, his gaze trailing after Christopher, both happy and torn about it.
This isn't the first time the universe has screamed at him, he realizes. Except it's not jinxes being shoved in his face for him to believe in superstitions, it's Buck's life hanging in the balance, and he feels utterly unprepared to try and keep his partner with them. He's already failed more than once, after all, and spectacularly so.
While they're watching the polar bears, Buck sniffs a little, and Eddie hopes he's about to tell him the truth about how much he must be hurting inside, even if he has to play it down for Chris's sake.
Buck starts one of his info dumps instead, talking about the North Pole and how dire things are for polar bears because of humans invading their habitat, and Christopher looks up at him, wide-eyed and hanging from his every word. Eddie listens closely, but the sheen of tears in his eyes has nothing to do with polar bears and everything to do with wondering how this incredible man could ever feel like he's not good enough.
Then he remembers his own upbringing and how very hard he had to prove to his parents he was good enough. How it was almost dying, getting a fucking commendation for being a decent human being, and having Ramon and Helena barely bat an eyelash at it that had convinced him he couldn't look for his own worth in his parents' eyes. He had to learn how to be enough for himself and his son, and pretend Shannon had left because it was all too much instead of Eddie not helping around enough, not being enough. He had to try not to choke on his anger at them and at himself, while learning how to be a good dad on his own.
The one time the Buckleys had visited, Eddie wanted to throttle them. He understood right away why his best friend was always too eager to please, too starved for validation and love, but after the last few days (day, singular, actually, just with different iterations), he suspects Buck's giving nature had been taking a toll on him, he just never said anything about it, never complained about how much he gave and how little he got in return.
Because he didn't think he deserved anything more than what he was given. That's what he'd written over and over in Eddie's letter.
"Buck! I want a picture with the penguins," Christopher announces when they move to that exhibit, Buck kept carefully between him and Eddie.
"Of course, Superman. Just you, or you want one with your dad too?" Buck asks, and Eddie bites his lip not to laugh when Chris shares a conspiratorial look with him and walks impressively fast to where a couple is standing close to them.
"Excuse me, would you mind taking a picture of me and my dads, please?"
Eddie can feel Buck's big frame tensing, turning to look at him like Eddie might grow fangs and bite his head off with them. But he's quick to soothe and reassure him this time, pulling him closer by the waist and raising their entwined fingers to press a soft kiss to Buck's knuckles.
"I'm so lucky to have you to raise Chris with," he pitches his voice low, only for Buck to hear. "I'm sorry I freaked out at first, about everything."
"Eddie," Buck chokes out.
They don't have time to talk about this now, not with their son already hanging from Buck's arm, grinning wide at them as Eddie presses a kiss to Buck's birthmark, wrapping an arm around both of his boys. It's a tight fit, but Chris snuggles close and helps Eddie reach them both.
The couple using Christopher's phone to snap the pictures coo over them, and Eddie thanks them profusely when he realizes they managed to capture that exact moment along with a couple of other beautiful shots, with Buck's awe and shock at finally being accepted in their little family in a way that is unmistakable.
They stop to have lunch next. He doesn't even care about having to eat in the overpriced zoo restaurant. How could he give a damn when they're still holding hands, and his partner has the softest smile on his face? So he lets Christopher order the biggest cup of ice cream they have which means he'll need help with it, but for now, he's happily digging in on his own.
"Wow, Eddie, this is…" Buck's voice wavers, and he makes sure Chris isn't paying attention, throwing a careful look his way before focusing back on Eddie. "Are you sure? I'm– I'm kind of getting my hopes up here, and I'm not sure I could survive you changing your mind again."
Eddie is certain he's not supposed to take the last statement as seriously as he does, but the chill running down his spine reminds him Buck is being painfully honest for once and that he needs to be very convincing. He has to treat this as his last shot at fixing things between them, even if it's not.
"I'm sure, Buck," he promises, as earnest as he's ever been, interlacing their fingers before taking Buck's hand to brush his lips against it again. "We'll talk more later, when we don't have a third wheel."
"I'm not a third wheel!" Christopher exclaims, affronted. Eddie smirks, because he knew their kid was listening. "I'm your wingman! Yours and Buck's, because you guys are hopeless."
He's never been much for PDA, but he'll gladly adapt to their new circumstances if it means keeping his partner with a bit of pink on his cheeks, alive and content, and looking at Eddie like he could gaze into his eyes forever and not get bored.
"We're not hopeless!" Buck protests, though it's weak, since he's stifling back a laugh, and there are hopefully happy tears in the corners of his eyes.
"We are," Eddie concedes easily.
"Well, you're certainly not, Mister Smooth Gentleman." Buck gives him a bit of a come hither look, and Eddie is the one flushing at the attention this time. "I don't think I've ever had my hand kissed. You keep doing that, and I'm going to swoon."
"Gross," Chris scrunches his nose, but he's grinning.
They enjoy the rest of the afternoon, visiting practically every inch of the zoo. Christopher spends the last three hours alternating between getting piggy back rides from him and Buck, claiming to be too grown up to be carried in any other way, and they end up going back to Buck's loft, mostly because Eddie will not allow his partner out of his sight, and his place is smaller and assures he can look at Buck at all times.
He watches Christopher and Buck cook some quick vegetable stir-fry. Buck fries some steaks to go with it as Chris works on the dough Buck had at the ready to make tortillas, and he's allowed to assist in the cutting and assembling process of the burritos, though mostly he just stands close with a dopey smile, anxiety starting to ruin his mood as his gaze keeps falling on the kitchen drawer that has Buck's goodbye letters in it.
It's the evening, and he's managed to keep Buck breathing and happy, but something still feels off. The sense of urgency that keeps his heart jack-hammering in his ribcage hasn't left.
After Buck puts Christopher to sleep up in his bed, Eddie leads him to sit on the couch beneath the stairs, where they'll have the most privacy for this conversation.
Instead of sitting next to Buck, he kneels in front of him, between the V of his legs, and looks up at him, several words passing rapidly through his mind that he discards over and over.
"I love you," he confesses first, both seeing and feeling Buck's breath hitching.
"As a friend and co-parent?" his partner teases, but there's an edge of doubt in his tone that Eddie is quick to erase, surging up for their first real kiss.
It's not a peck on the lips or a chaste kiss on the mouth. Buck's lips are parted from the start, and Eddie makes the most of it, slotting their mouths perfectly, mapping the feel of Buck's lips against his and how every tilt and press of his mouth has him shuddering, pressing closer. He grips the back of Buck's neck, fingers tangling in the loose hairs there, his other hand firmly planted on Buck's thigh, deepening the kiss when Buck's hands clasp his shoulder and back, so that their chests are flushed together.
It's only the burning need for oxygen that has him reluctantly breaking the kiss, leaning his forehead up against Buck's as they gasp for air.
His eyes are crossing a little, but he can't look away from how pink and swollen his partner's lips are, and it's only the image of those same lips ashen and cold that has him sitting back on his haunches to finally say the words that he's been hiding even from himself.
He doesn't let go of Buck's nape, and he brushes the hair there gently in a repetitive motion to calm both of them.
"I’m in love with you. I’m sorry it took me so long to admit it. I love you so fucking much, Buck, it terrifies me. And you were right, Christopher is ours. He’s been for a long time. I was too scared to give this thing between us a chance, when I knew for sure–" It feels stupid to say it out loud, but he owes it to Buck, so he says it. “When I thought I couldn’t make you stay. That you’d end up leaving, like…”
“Like Shannon did,” Buck finishes for him with a gasp, heart on full display for him. "Eddie, I’m so sorry. I should've realized–”
“It’s not your fault,” he reassures, followed by a small kiss. "I should've told you, instead of rejecting you. Thank you for giving me another chance."
Eddie's not sure whether the tears on Buck's face are the good kind or not; even knowing what he knows, he can't possibly imagine what is going through his best friend's mind. He wipes them away with his thumbs, touch reverent on Buck's cheekbones, and drinks him in with his eyes as if it's the first time he's truly seeing him.
They're at least partly desperate, upset tears, because Buck pulls him up to sit beside him and holds on to him so tightly, Eddie has trouble getting in air for a moment.
He embraces Buck back just as hard and waits with bated breath. Something that he can't describe shifts in the air around them and then Buck is hiding his face in his shoulder, and the sobs wracking his chest get more violent, even in their astounding, heartbreaking muteness.
He wonders if Buck really cries this quietly, or if it's Christopher upstairs making him bite back every sound. He thinks he knows the answer, and he despises it, chest aching with it.
He kisses Buck's forehead and rocks them back and forth as he weeps. He doesn't notice he's crying too until tears are tickling down his chin, wetting Buck's hair imperceptibly, until he's trying to utter some sweet nothings to ease his partner's pain and his voice breaks.
Please, just let me in, he pleads in his head because he's learned that if he pushes, it all goes to hell, and nothing changes, and he'll wake up to have to either watch the man he loves die again or suffer in a slightly different way as Eddie tries and fails to figure out how to catch him before he falls.
At some point, they lie down on the couch, Buck curled on top of him, still clinging to his back like he's scared Eddie will vanish into thin air if he lets go the slightest bit. It's a tight fit for two grown men, but their bodies slot together seamlessly in any space and situation, and this is no exception.
"Eddie, I'm not…" Buck starts, his voice pitchy, only to pause and shake harder, so Eddie shushes him softly, moving a hand to cradle the back of his head.
He doesn't breathe until Buck speaks again, barely audible against his chest.
"I'm not okay."
His partner tenses, as if bracing for a blow; for Eddie's anger, for a number of things that he tries not to think about.
"I'm here, Evan." It's probably too little, but Eddie's never been great with words, and he's terrified of saying the wrong thing and ruining everything again.
He's grateful and so relieved Buck isn't pulling away, that he's still allowing Eddie to hold him together as he falls apart.
He peppers Buck's hairline with kisses until he feels him relaxing slightly against him, and the shaking lessens somewhat.
"You're not… mad at me? For lying?" Buck's voice is so small as he asks, raising his head to look into Eddie's eyes.
"Amor," he can't keep the endearment in, but he's glad about it when a tentative smile pulls at Buck's lips. "I'm not mad at you. I'm grateful you're trusting me with this."
As if daring him to react in a bad way, Buck sits up to grab his phone from the coffee table. Eddie follows suit, draping himself over his partner's back, tucking his chin on Buck's shoulder as he watches him swipe through pictures in his gallery.
Until he finds the one he wants and shows Eddie the ravine that took him out three times, that Eddie could recognize blind with how much he's been there lately.
"I wanted to… I was going to…" Buck stutters and turns his face away as he finally confesses. "I was planning on jumping. It seemed foolproof, the height and location. High and remote enough. I didn't want you guys being the ones that– that found me afterwards."
Oh, but they did find Buck at the bottom, broken and beyond salvation, multiple times. Not that Eddie will torture him sharing that fact. As far as everyone but Eddie is concerned, nothing happened, so there's nothing to tell, not really.
He nuzzles into Buck's temple, beckoning him to turn back to him, and whispers, "Thank you, for not going through with it. For still being here."
It works, though Buck starts crying hard again after looking at him.
"I'm sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry.” The apology is so heartfelt it seems to want out of Buck with a scream, and he muffles it with a hand over his own mouth as Eddie shifts his hold on him, pulling his partner up to his lap, heart breaking all over again for him when Buck shakes harder and curls himself impossibly small, burrowing into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry.”
He waits a few minutes, rocking them again, and slowly, consciously loosens his jaw and lets his own quiet sobs out, so Buck doesn’t feel like he’s the only one shattering.
He’s never been more sure of anything as he is in that moment, certain that their jagged pieces will fit together, that they will get out of this.
“I’m sorry too. I'm so sorry I couldn’t see it,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with regret and guilt and love. “You’ve been hurting for so long, and I never saw it.”
“I kept it from you.” His partner raises his head, taking in a shuddering breath as his hand cups Eddie’s wet cheek. “We said no more secrets, and I still– this is my fault, it’s all on me.”
They both wipe each other’s faces, Buck’s fingertips on his skin so tender he wants to weep for a different reason, remembering he could be living without this love if some unknown force hadn’t decided they deserved a second chance, and a third, fourth, all the chances they needed for Eddie to get his act together and finally get it right.
He sniffles quietly and presses a chaste kiss to Buck’s birthmark.
“Mi vida. Don’t do this,” he asks, pleads, staying close to lean his forehead against Buck’s. “Don’t carry all the weight on your shoulders, please. Guilt will crush you, and I–” He’s seen it happen too many fucking times. He can’t do it anymore. “I won’t stand aside and watch again, Buck. It wasn’t a secret, what you kept from me, from everyone. You’re sick, and we’ll get you help.”
Buck puts some distance between them then, and he’s terrified he’s just put his foot in his mouth again. His blue eyes are red and puffy, but it’s the way they’re hardening that has Eddie’s hands holding him tighter, afraid he's going to lose him again.
“Eddie, I won’t ask you to be with me when I’m… when I still want to do it. I have these awful thoughts about dying all the time. I can’t ask you to put up with all this. You and Christopher deserve so much better than me.”
His knee-jerk reaction is to be forceful and demanding, to shake some sense into his partner, make him realize he’s not going away because things are hard. Tell him he’s moving in with Eddie and Chris, and that’s it, that they won’t ever leave him alone to go through any of those suicidal thoughts he has.
But that’s not what Buck needs. And it’s not really what Eddie’s feeling either. He’s scared, and that makes him want to lash out, pretend he can strong-arm all of this into an easy, quick solution. But depression is a chronic illness, and although they don’t have the official diagnosis yet, Eddie is aware they will have to learn to live with it.
So he slides off the couch again, kneels in front of Buck and takes his hands in his, waiting until their gazes lock to speak.
“I love you, every last bit of you, Evan. You’re the most important person in my life, right along with Christopher. What you’re feeling… what you’ve been struggling with on your own, it almost took you from us. We almost lost you. I don’t want to wait until you’re better. You’re already good enough for me, for us, just the way you are. I want you to stop hurting, but that’ll take time, and you’ll need people by your side to remind you how great you are when you can’t see it.”
He’s not expecting his partner to remain completely still, to just blink at Eddie’s words.
Buck’s hands are clammy, and the warmth in them is the one thing that stops him from having a horrible flashback of him lying cold and still on the bottom of that cliff.
He’s reminded of the distant, broken way Buck reacted to everyone just the previous day, and fear almost swallows him whole.
“What if I can never see it? What if I always think you’re just putting up with me, even though I’m not good enough?”
“Then I’ll just have to love you enough for the two of us, vida.”
The silence as they just stare at each other stretches so long, Eddie is just waiting for one of them to snap. He hopes they don’t break, that they just bend, but he’s so out of his depth. More than anything, he just wants more time to show Buck how much he means what he’s just vowed to him, but he can’t ask that out of his partner. Time is the one thing they might not have.
He hears familiar footsteps then and turns to look at Christopher hobbling to them without his crutches, stopping only to throw his arms around Buck’s neck.
Eddie is horrified, thinking about how much of all this Chris just heard, but a part of him is relieved because he really needs the backup, and he was planning on getting their son therapy again too. He knows they will all need it.
“I’ll help too, Buck. I love you so much, papa. Please stay,” Christopher’s voice breaks on a sob, and Eddie hugs both of his boys tight, scrambling back up to the couch as Buck half gasps, half cries out, holding Chris to his chest. “If you can’t swim anymore, we’ll get you floaties.”
"I–I'd like that, Superman," Buck hiccups on a sob. “I’m sorry. I should be stronger.”
"We'll keep swimming together," Christopher says, cupping Buck's face and looking at him with far more wisdom than an eleven year-old should have. "You don’t have to be strong all the time, papa. We’re family, we can take turns."
Buck lets out a surprised, watery laugh and kisses Christopher's forehead. "You’re right. Thank you, Chris."
His partner nuzzles into his cheek as they both hold Christopher between them and each other. Gradually, he stops shaking. He's still crying, but he looks… hopeful. There's a warm glint in his eyes now, and his lips are curled in a small smile.
After a few minutes, when their son's tears stop and he's just sleepily clinging to them, he mouths 'I'm sorry' to Eddie, looking down at Chris with so much worry he would fall in love with him right then and there, if he wasn't absolutely gone for Buck already.
He shakes his head and shushes him with a soft kiss that gets cut short when Christopher giggles and fake-gags between them. Buck huffs out a laugh and ruffles Chris' hair gently, whispering an apology that he accepts sleepily.
"Alright, time for bed," Eddie declares. Buck nods and picks Christopher up so they can go upstairs.
He guides his partner to lie in the middle of the bed, since there is no way they're waking Chris up again and he's still clutching at Buck's t-shirt with both hands. He pulls the covers over them, curling around Buck's other side, pressing a kiss to his cheek close to his ear.
"I'd rather Chris knows what you're going through than have him living the rest of his life without you, Buck. I'd rather help you find reasons to live every day than live forty years without you," he whispers, leaning his forehead on Buck's temple. "You've been with us through thick and thin. It's our turn now."
Buck stutters a long sigh before nodding, turning to kiss him chastely as he wraps his free arm around Eddie's back.
"He really is the best, brightest kid in the world," he breathes out in awe.
Eddie reaches to brush a few hairs off of Chris's forehead. "He is."
"I don't deserve you, either of you."
There's a finality to Buck's words, and such sadness in his eyes, that Eddie struggles to reply.
How could he possibly explain he doesn't deserve Buck either, but he's not letting go, and have the man he loves believe him? This shouldn't be a competition to see who is the most unworthy.
(Eddie would definitely win, if that were the case.)
"Do you trust me?" he asks, brushing Buck's arm around Christopher carefully, so he can take his hand without rousing their kid.
"You know that I do, more than anyone."
"Then trust me when I say this: you're important. You're enough. You're so much more than what you believe." He squeezes Buck's hand and holds his breath until he feels his partner squeezing back. "I love you, Evan."
"I love you too, Eddie," Buck whispers back, and he's crying again, but he's nuzzling close, not breaking apart, so Eddie wrestles the fear still gripping his heart away and lets himself feel hopeful.
He's not asleep, even though he's been keeping his breathing slow and even. His eyes are wide open, there's just no way he's closing them until he knows for sure he's not going to lose Buck again or he's forcefully pushed back in time.
So he hears it when Buck murmurs, almost imperceptibly, "I want to be greedy and stay with you, but I'm scared. I'm so scared, Eddie."
"I'm scared too," he admits, lips brushing Buck's cheekbone. "I've never been more scared in my life, but I know we can be brave together."
He's not asking for a promise, yet it's still a little disheartening when Buck just swallows and stays quiet for a long moment.
"You called me 'life' before, I think. You said 'vida'," Buck blurts it out self-consciously, so Eddie nods and curls a hand around his neck, thumb caressing the line of his jaw.
"Yeah, I did. That's what you are to me. My love, my life, mi vida."
Buck's body finally relaxes completely against him, and their fingers entwine over Christopher's middle.
He feels more than sees how his partner's eyes flutter closed, and he watches him sleep until the first rays of sunshine peek through the horizon, bathing the apartment and his gorgeous family in a golden, warm glow.
Notes:
Spanish translations (all terms of endearment)
amor: love
mi vida: my life
vida: life
Chapter 7
Notes:
sorry for the long wait. i have a lot going on, and this thing just keeps getting longer.
Chapter Text
Eddie wakes up to the feeling of small, soft kisses pressed against his cheek, his neck, and the shy brush of a nose against his own, on his shoulder.
He breathes out deeply, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes, afraid he’s having another dream. He remembers so vividly the day before, every single repetition of it, but especially Christopher and him holding Buck, trying to convince him he’s family and that his struggle is theirs too. He doesn’t know how he’s going to keep fighting, if their whole day together got erased from reality even though it’s going to be imprinted in Eddie’s mind and heart forever.
When he finally raises his head to face what’s going on, he sees Buck is still lying beside him, their son clinging to his waist as he sleeps soundly. His partner freezes when he notices Eddie is awake, his gentle caresses and nuzzles stopping.
“Sorry, too much?” he asks through a wince, voice pitched low and raspy, eyes red and swollen, chest heaving, bracing for rejection already.
Eddie cups his cheek, thumb brushing the dark bags under those blue eyes he adores so much, and shakes his head slightly. His voice is lost under too many emotions to name, relief slowly winning over disbelief because Buck really is here; he’s real, warm and solid and still frail, but he stayed .
Somehow, they made it through. It’s a new day, and the first thing he does is quell Buck’s doubt with a kiss, slow and sweet, a good morning and thank you with just glides of their lips over one another. He can't quite get over the fact he gets to kiss Buck now, wants to feel and cherish how soft and warm his lips are every chance he gets.
“I love you.” He kisses Buck’s eyelids and his brow, a small, broken sound escaping his throat because he’s alive .
Eddie finally managed to catch him.
“Love you too,” Buck whispers back, his smile shy but genuine, and he’s stricken by the fact of how very different it looks, how forced all the other smiles Eddie’s been seeing on the regular were.
He should’ve realized something was wrong, before all this madness he had to go through to keep Buck alive.
He’s always prided himself in his ability to read his partner without a word, in how he knows Buck better than anybody else. And maybe he really does and that’s why it was him trapped in the time loop, but it still wasn’t enough because the man he loves with every fiber of his being is so good at masking his pain that they have their work cut out for them, braving the storm of Buck’s mental illness together.
At the very least, he’ll need to get used to speaking up instead of assuming actions are enough to show how he feels. And he better start now.
“You’re never too much,” he whispers, kissing the apple of Buck’s cheek.
He sighs, more weight being lifted from his chest, when Buck smiles coyly at the attention and ducks his head in that way he does that always has Eddie staring at him for a little too long.
Except this time he can touch too, so he brushes the pad of his thumb over his partner’s jawline and guides him into another kiss, this one longer and a little deeper. Buck puts his hand on his, as if Eddie needed any encouragement whatsoever to keep pressing close and slowly start to map his partner’s mouth with his tongue.
The way Buck breathes into him and shivers would have him wanting something entirely different from sleepy, lingering kisses if it weren’t for Christopher’s face half-buried in Buck’s t-shirt. It’s probably what he thinks of as his ‘dad sense’, the perpetual awareness of Christopher at all times, that lets him know when to break the kiss gently and just nuzzle against Buck’s nose.
A small groan from Chris has him laughing, low in his chest. This warmth he’s feeling doesn’t make him panic, which is new. It just settles into a spot in him that he didn’t know was empty and lets him breathe easier.
For Buck and Christopher, for his family, he can weather any storm. He can beat a damn tornado if he has to, to keep them by his side, safe and sound and happy.
“Morning, buddy,” Buck greets Chris, ruffling his hair when he only gets another peeved noise in reply.
“Dad was sucking your face,” their son accuses, eyes still squeezed shut. “I heard it!”
“To be fair, I was sucking his face too,” his partner counters, and Eddie chuckles.
Christopher makes a face as he pulls only the slightest bit away from Buck’s chest. “Can I at least not go to school since you woke me up being gross?”
He’s peering at Eddie as he’s asking, but he directs the whole power of his puppy eyes at Buck. Now, he wasn’t planning on making their kid go to school at least until Monday, but he plays dumb and watches yet another proof that Chris has Buck wrapped around his little finger, biting back a laugh.
“Uh, Eddie, what do you think?” his partner asks cautiously, tilting his head to look at him, and that sours Eddie’s mood a little because he put that fear there with his own. “Maybe it’s too late anyway? What time is it?”
Reluctantly, he pulls away from his boys to get his phone from the bedside table. His hand shakes as he confirms it’s Friday again, that they’re finally out of the woods; literally and figuratively, in more ways than one. With his back turned to them, he takes a minute to blink through a couple of overwhelmed, grateful tears and then turns back to kiss Christopher’s forehead and kiss the spot behind Buck’s ear.
It’s a little after seven, so if they hurry, they can get their son to school. But there’s still a lot of apprehension in his heart, a not so irrational fear he’ll lose his family after they’ve just patched it up together, so he isn’t ready to let either of them out of his sight.
“I think it’s time for breakfast,” he replies, sitting up. “Abuela’s pancakes sound good. Do you have dulce de leche, vida?”
“Of–Of course I do,” Buck stammers, and he covers his face with a hand, frowning at Eddie through his fingers. He looks too adorable for his annoyance to bother Eddie at all. “You know where it is! Don’t try to kill me with pet names so early in the morning.”
But it's definitely too soon to be making that sort of joke, so Eddie falters for a bit.
Logically, he knows what Buck means is harmless, but he still has to check.
“Buck.”
“Sorry, I didn’t think– sorry. Are you really making panqueques con dulce de leche?”
It’s not often he gets to hear his partner’s accent. Whenever Buck speaks Spanish, it's always fast and low, his words tripping over each other, rolling off his tongue with something heavy like shame. This time his voice is just quiet, the inflection so much clearer Eddie has to pause for a moment, savoring it.
"They're thicker than Abuela's but not bad," Christopher comments mischievously, and Eddie reaches out to ruffle his hair in retaliation.
It’s humbling and exhilarating, how just being close and honest is already helping Buck to feel more at ease, to open up to them.
It’s a bachelor’s apartment, so the bathroom is definitely not big enough for all of them to brush their teeth together. They still figure it out somehow, elbowing each other playfully from time to time, and Christopher is proud he doesn’t need to use the small stool Buck keeps for him there anymore to reach the sink and mirror comfortably.
Once they’re done, Chris pulls Buck downstairs, slightly unsteady without his crutches that his partner grabs hastily from beside the bed once their kid grabs his hand and doesn’t let go. Eddie follows them, watching as they start Christopher’s exercises, and then he’s grabbing flour, eggs and milk, and frowning at the ingredients as he tries to remember the time he spent in Dispatch, when he used to cook often with decent results.
Buck makes fluffy, airy pancakes they eat with maple syrup or blueberry sauce, but this version is supposed to be flat and more like an American crepe. They usually have them when they visit Abuela, and Eddie remembers with a pang in his chest that it’s been months since he’s invited Buck to go with them. In his head, his best friend knew he had an open invitation and didn’t need to be reminded, but Eddie still didn’t tell him to tag along when their days off were the same.
There’s no use tormenting himself with all the assumptions he shouldn’t have made about Buck now, so he shakes the uncomfortable feeling off and calls Abuela to make sure he doesn’t butcher the recipe.
Comfort food is a must to start this new day that’s been a long time coming, and he wants to treat Buck and Christopher to something good.
She guides him through mixing the batter easily with little to no teasing, so he’s not surprised when she comments. “Bring Buck with you this weekend, si, nieto? I miss that boy, and I’m going to cook you a feast to celebrate you’re finally together.”
Eddie almost drops the pancake he’s flipping over in the pan, barely managing to catch it as he sputters. Coming out to his family isn’t in his list of priorities, and he has no idea what clued Abuela in. He can only hope she doesn’t tell his parents because that’s a shitshow he doesn’t want Buck to face so soon after everything– not when he must still be feeling like he’s a burden, not when he's certain his parents would just make him feel like he doesn't belong with Eddie and Christopher again.
“How–Abuela, how did you know?”
“You sound happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that in your voice, mijito, but it always came very close when you brought him over, or whenever you or Christopher mentioned him. You think Pepa and I were born yesterday? We see how you look at each other. I’m very happy for you, Eddie.”
Still reeling from the easy acceptance, Eddie thanks her and promises they’ll be over on Sunday. He’s already planning to use vacation time so he can stay with Buck during the inevitable leave he’s going to get. It’s a conversation they need to have that he’s not looking forward to, since he knows Buck loves working, and any time he has to spend away from active duty eats away at him.
He turns the stove off and starts spreading dulce de leche on the pancakes. Looking up into the living room, he realizes Christopher put Finding Nemo on the TV, and he’s cuddling with Buck on the couch. It’s a movie they’ve watched at least ten times, if not more, and Buck has always cried at the beginning when Nemo’s mother dies, so he tries to breathe through the anxiety he feels when he sees his partner wiping the corner of his eyes. It gets easier when Buck presses a kiss on the crown of Christopher’s head, and their kid smiles up at him.
He cooks some eggs and bacon too, because he knows Buck likes having protein in every meal, and gets coffee ready while he reheats leftover cocoa from yesterday.
Once everything is ready, he sets the table. He’s about to call for them when Christopher stands up and makes for the stairs, and Eddie catches him at the bottom to hug him tightly, feeling like he’ll never truly get over how amazing his kid is.
“I love you, son,” he murmurs into his hair, and Chris laughs, gently pushing him away.
“Love you too, dad, but I really have to pee.”
He doesn’t offer any assistance, just like Buck didn’t, but they both watch until the door closes behind their kid. At some point, Buck stands up from the couch to stand next to him, and Eddie can see how watery his eyes are and how hard he’s swallowing to keep his composure.
“We should ask him how much he heard last night, try to do some damage control,” Buck whispers, rubbing his mouth as he starts to pace. “I can’t believe I got him involved in this, Eddie, you should punch me in the face and–”
“Hey,” he cuts in, his tone quiet but firm. He takes his partner’s hands, pulling him into his arms just the way he’s wanted to do many times before when they shared little and big moments in one of their kitchens. “We’ll talk with him, but I think it’s best we wait to do it with Dr. Lin. I’ll call him after breakfast, and we’ll figure it out together, does that sound okay?”
It takes long seconds that feel excruciating, but Buck nods jerkily and relaxes slightly in his hold, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back. His eyes are still searching for something in Eddie’s gaze, something he seems desperate to find.
“You should hate me,” Buck insists, looking down and starting to pull away. “You should be so mad at me.”
Instead of letting him go, he holds his partner closer, gently guiding him to lean into the crook of his neck. When Chris peeks out of the bathroom, he shakes his head a little, and their son shuts the door again quietly.
“I’ve loved you for years, Buck," he admits, lips brushing Buck’s temple. “This doesn’t change that. You know how strong Christopher is, you survived a tsunami together. We will get through this, all three of us.”
Buck whimpers into his shoulder, muffling an apology and something that sounds like ‘but I lost him’ heavily into his t-shirt, and Eddie feels the wetness of tears on his neck as his partner clings tighter to him.
“I know how hard it is to accept help, vida, I really do. I couldn’t do it, not until we met and you taught me how,” he confesses.
He remembers his time trying to leave the 118 and his job as a firefighter to have a more stable life to offer his son. He remembers how he ended up almost losing himself. He learned having a safe job meant nothing if he couldn’t keep himself together, that in order to be a good father to Christopher he had to be true to who he was, and being away from the family he found in LA and the job he loved were doing them no favors.
Perhaps the fire in Dispatch was another time the universe screamed at him to do what was right, to go back to being who he is.
He remembers how Buck was instantly there for him when he finally broke down, after he tore his own room apart, how his best friend never berated or judged him. He plans on showing him the holes they patched together in Eddie’s room when they go there next, so he can show him proof that everyone has their breaking point and that everyone needs a helping hand to get back from it.
And even after all of that, he still had the guts to try and leave Buck, to tell him he should move on while pretending he had already. It's another thing he'll need to apologize and make amends for, but that's okay. As long as they have time, Eddie will make the most of this new day they get to be together and every day afterwards too.
Buck doesn’t reply, just shakes harder, but he nuzzles into the side of Eddie’s neck, and that’s enough for now. Eddie knows he heard what he said.
He holds them in place as the food he prepared starts to get cold. Christopher checks again after a few minutes, and this time Eddie nods for him to come down, opening up one arm to pull him into their hug.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says through a sob, raising his head as he makes room for Chris between them, securing an arm around his shoulders, just under Eddie’s. “I’m–I’m just sad I’m ruining your day, buddy.”
“My day is always great when you’re with us, papa,” Christopher is quick to reassure. “Though dad might’ve ruined it if the panqueques are salty.”
“Oye,” he grouses, mock-offended. “That was one time, and it was a secret!”
“We don’t keep secrets from Buck.” Chris sticks his tongue out, and Buck lets out a surprised, small laugh, his crying slowing down enough for Eddie to kiss him chastely, squeezing his nape before letting go, and lead his boys to have breakfast.
Christopher sits at the head of the table and digs in happily, so the pancakes are definitely not salty. They're still warm and oozing dulce de leche, just how Eddie likes them, so he eats a couple and drinks his coffee, consciously stopping himself from staring at his partner.
He doesn't want Buck to feel like he's being watched, and he bites his tongue against commenting on the bit of weight Buck has lost the past few weeks, which he didn’t realize until he put his arms around Buck and felt the difference. It's very unlikely his partner has been eating anything but protein bars or shakes when he's alone, after Eddie's initial fuckup.
Buck has always thrived with company and crumbled if left to his own devices for too long. Eddie made the conscious decision to put some distance between them for a while even though he knew that, because he was scared of things changing and ruining them forever, and he will never stop regretting it. Sure, his partner didn’t jump, but the rest of the damage he did to him is still present, still raw. He sees it, even without looking directly at Buck, and it makes his eyes sting.
He wonders if Frank will be able to help him, to stop the guilt he’s still carrying from changing him completely. He knows he has to start focusing on the things he’s done right, on the good things in his life, and he has plenty of those. He needs to remember that Buck loves him, flaws and all, the same way Eddie feels about him. He just needs to trust Buck with this one thing he was keeping to himself, since he already trusts his partner with everything else.
He releases the breath he hadn't realized he was holding when Buck reaches across the table to squeeze the back of Eddie's hand.
They’re still in sync, even outside of work, and that calms him down more than he can put into words. He turns his palm up so they can entwine their fingers, and Buck smiles slightly, ducking his head as he cuts a piece of pancake and brings it to his mouth.
It's mesmerizing to watch Buck's lips closing around it, tongue darting out to lick the remaining sticky sweetness on his mouth. Eddie’s throat gets a little dry, so he sips more coffee with his free hand, smiling like an idiot behind his mug because he loves this man so much.
It’s just the second day he’s aware of it, the second day he’s embracing it instead of shoving the feeling to the last, darkest corner of his being, and it feels like he finally fits in his own skin.
Buck eats a healthy portion of everything, though it's slow work and more than a little heartbreaking to see his partner pausing to rub his eyes tiredly from time to time, quietly sniffling into his own mug between bites.
"This is really good, Eddie," he praises softly. "Thank you."
"He was talking with Abuela to get them right," Christopher points out. "That's cheating."
Eddie snorts. Nothing gets past their kid lately, it looks like. "It's not."
"Is too."
"It's not."
"Is too!"
"Cut your dad some slack, son. Nothing wrong with needing help, right?" Buck intercedes when it gets a little ridiculous.
It's clear he doesn't notice what he's just said, but Chris and Eddie do. Christopher breaks into a sunny, big smile and apologizes to Eddie readily, and he can't help but beam as well.
There's nothing wrong with needing help, nothing at all.
***
Eddie has no trouble scheduling appointments with Dr. Lin and Frank on Monday and Tuesday respectively, once he explains the situation to them briefly. He does it while Buck and Christopher keep watching Finding Nemo, hoping the few times he sees Buck typing on his phone that he’s writing to his own therapist because that’s where they should go first, but he doesn’t want to push.
The last thing he needs Buck to feel is pressure, so he waits and sits with them for most of the second half of the movie, sneaking an arm around Buck’s waist and pressing small kisses to his stubbly cheek whenever he seems to go away inside his head. Buck blinks and smiles at him, light returning to those pretty eyes of his, and he leans into Eddie instead of staring vacantly through the window, so he counts it as progress.
It turns out, Buck does send Dr. Copeland an email, and thankfully, she sees it quickly because she calls him to tell him she has a spot for him that same afternoon. His partner seems both relieved and nervous about it, and he leaves the bathroom door open as he showers without Eddie having to ask. He also leaves a small basket outside with his shaving kit and some prescription bottles, sitting unassuming on his bedside table, and Eddie has a small freakout while boring holes into it.
It’s not like he isn’t aware of the gravity of the situation. He is terribly, painstakingly aware of it, but maybe he forgot their life is not a hallmark movie for just a brief, stupid moment. Buck won’t suddenly stop thinking about hurting himself just because they’re in a relationship, and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Eddie, it just means he’s not well.
It’s not that Eddie isn’t enough, it’s just more complicated than that. Real life always is.
He wonders if he should throw the bottle of Tylenol away and just keep a couple pills at hand, if he should put the razors somewhere else just in case.
In the end, he decides against it, though he does take the stuff with him downstairs.
“How are you feeling, mijo?” He checks on Christopher once they’re alone, cleaning up the kitchen as his kid laughs about the mess he made on the countertop.
“I’m okay,” Chris shrugs, but then he looks up with tears in his eyes, and Eddie instantly drops the washcloth and sits next to him. “I’m worried about Buck. You said he’s sick. It’s bad, isn’t it? Is that why he’s sad? Is that why he wanted to leave?”
Eddie flounders, not feeling knowledgeable enough to answer Christopher’s questions on his own. He sighs and puts an arm around him as he leans down to look at him. “I think he has depression. His brain is tricking him into thinking bad things about himself. We’ll talk about it with Dr. Lin on Monday. You can write down what you want to ask him, buddy, and we’ll go over your questions with him.”
He’s not even done talking when Chris hugs him back tight and lets go quickly, scrambling off of the stool to get to his backpack and grabbing a notebook and pen before settling on the table with his supplies.
Eddie finishes up in the kitchen, thinking about checking in on Buck in a little bit.
He skims over the paper as he’s passing by, heart aching when he reads ‘What is depression? Is it forever like my CP?’ immediately followed by ‘How can I help Buck feel better?’ Christopher is already scribbling more, so Eddie just kisses the crown of his head on his way upstairs and encourages him to bring the subject up with him if he needs to before the appointment with his therapist.
He finds Buck still clad in only a towel, sitting on his bed, which isn’t so distracting with the way he’s huddling into himself, head hanging heavily from his shoulders, face hidden in his hands.
The medic in him still checks him over quickly. There are no wounds he can see, so he sits beside him, keeping his movements slow and loud so he doesn’t startle him, and reaches to squeeze Buck’s knee.
“Buck,” he calls out softly.
Buck gasps as if he’s surging up from underwater, hands flying to cling to Eddie’s arms, and stares at him with such visceral fear Eddie feels it too. “I’m never going to be a firefighter again, Eddie. My last shift was– it was my last , I knew that, but I thought– I just thought–”
He has to swallow through a lump in his throat, realizing Buck didn’t plan for this; to be alive and not be able to work, that he thought he’d be gone .
But he’s still here. Everything can be fixed except death, one of Eddie’s great-grandmothers used to say, and he has to believe that is true.
“Remember when I worked at Dispatch?” he asks quietly. Buck nods, frowning a little, so he keeps going. “It wasn’t terrible, but every time I heard your voices, it hurt not being out there with you. Even when we saw each other and you talked about work, it hurt to listen. I hated not being a firefighter. I would never, ever ask you to give that up.”
“You don’t think I should quit? That I’m not cut out for it anymore?”
“You’re one of the best firefighters in LA, Buck. You know I trust you to have my back any day, and that hasn’t changed. We just need to fight this so you can get back to work.”
His partner seems taken aback, and his shock lasts enough that Eddie brushes the still damp skin on his arms until he reaches his hands and holds them both in his.
That brings Buck back from his silence, from whatever place he’d gone to in his head, and the small smile he gives Eddie is bright enough to keep him going for days, even without the kiss Buck presses to his lips; the first sure, firm kiss he’s started instead of Eddie, and it tastes sweet and syrupy, anchoring him in hope.
They break apart only enough to look at each other.
“Thank you, you always… you just get me,” Buck breathes out, pitch shaky. “I thought I’d have to fight you and everyone else about how much I need my job, but I’m so tired. I thought I’d have to give it up.”
He remembers months ago, when Buck refused to leave that man to die in the fire, how Athena told him being Buck means he never gives up. He understands now that the strength and recklessness had something ugly lurking underneath, and that his partner has never believed he deserves the same love and sacrifice he’s always given everyone else, even strangers they save and never see again.
“I have a pretty mean hook,” he points out, dead serious even when Buck huffs out a laugh. “Who do I need to fight? I’ll crush them for you.”
“Even Bobby?”
“Everyone. Bring it on.”
Buck chuckles and nuzzles into Eddie’s nose. There’s still a bit of disbelief in his eyes, in the tilt of his head, but at least he’s not telling Eddie he’s not worth the effort.
He’s about to ask if Buck wants him to pick some clothes for him to wear when Buck takes a long, shuddering breath and stands up to start rummaging through his closet, his back to Eddie.
“The weight I had on my chest… it’s lighter now that you know,” he confesses quietly. “I thought it’d be worse, when you knew how weak I am.”
Eddie sighs and rubs the frown on his face. It doesn't get any easier, hearing his partner talk about himself like that, no matter how many different ways of putting himself down Buck shows him.
He waits until Buck dresses in jeans and a light blue t-shirt to hug him, pressing a kiss to his nape. “You’re strong, amor. Sometimes strength is asking for help and trying. You’re still here doing that even though it’s not easy, and I’m proud of you for that.”
Buck leans back into his chest, arms wrapping around Eddie’s on his waist, and murmurs. “I really hope this isn’t a dream, Eddie.”
Eddie holds him tighter, having the same fear pulling at his heartstrings as he buries his face in the side of Buck's neck and breathes him in deeply. “It’s not. I'm here. We're real.”
***
He drives very cautiously as they’re taking Christopher to Pepa’s house. Buck doesn’t say anything about the honks and insults and general road rage he’s getting, but he stares at Eddie’s profile every time he slows down, every time he doesn’t run a yellow light before it turns red, and every time he takes some extra seconds to change the gear after the light goes green.
His aunt grabs Buck’s face in her hands and kisses him wetly on the cheek before berating him for not visiting in that fond but stern way only her and Isabel seem capable of. Buck apologizes and promises he’ll be around more, and Chris does a small cheer at hearing that as he clings to Eddie's side.
He doesn't have to say anything for Pepa to reassure him.
"Ramon and Helena will know when you tell them," she says, after giving Eddie his own warm, long hug. "We're in your corner, hijo. Always."
"Thanks, tía."
Buck is busy helping Christopher inside, so he doesn't hear what they're talking about. At some point, Eddie knows he needs to tell him his parents won't take their relationship well. They were already standoffish with Buck at his shielding ceremony and when they stopped by Eddie's childhood house on their way back from Texas.
It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, knowing his partner needs nothing but love, yet his parents are too stuck in their ways to care about that, to help them. Shannon was always nice to them, and a great mother up until she left, despite their issues together, but it was never enough for them. They always claimed she wasn't good enough for Eddie, and he won't allow them saying that to Buck.
He tells Shannon he's sorry, fingers drifting up to brush against his Saint Christopher’s medal. He should've stood up for her. Instead, he left every time she needed him and then resented her when she did the same. Perhaps she was right in deciding they had no future together, before her accident.
Tía Pepa grins when she hears Chris calling Buck papa as they leave. The tip of Buck's ears go bright pink when they overhear Pepa telling their kid what a handsome, smart and loving man his dad picked for them, and Eddie pecks him on the cheek before leading him back to his truck.
"She's right, you know."
Buck remains quietly stunned until they get in, and his hand shakes a little as he fastens his seatbelt, looking down with a frown. "She's not. You deserve someone like that, someone who isn't a burden, who isn't exhausting –"
"Buck," Eddie cuts in, speaking through the knife that feels speared right through his heart. He reaches for Buck's shoulders, squeezing tight before cupping his face so his partner looks at him.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that. I was so angry, but that's no excuse. I shouldn't have said that to you." His voice isn't exactly steady, and he only manages to keep Buck's eyes on him for a second longer than it takes for him to finish apologizing.
Buck shrugs then, gingerly dislodging Eddie's hands from him, and it hurts; how a thousand apologies won't convince him Eddie is being honest and how he's closing off again.
"You were right. You weren't the first one to say that to me. You weren't the last, either."
"What? Who else did?" he asks, anger bleeding into his tone because he suddenly needs to find each and every person who’s ever called Buck that and punch their teeth off.
But that's not really important. He acknowledges he's redirecting the anger he's still feeling at himself towards others and tries to breathe through it.
"Never mind, we're all fucking idiots," he grumbles, a part of him wanting to ask if Taylor did it too, but that's too petty, so he shuts up and starts the engine.
They can't be late to Buck's appointment.
***
Buck starts scratching his skin a few blocks from the hospital. He starts on his arm but moves to his neck by the time they check him in and sit down to wait for Dr. Copeland to see him.
Eddie tries for subtle first. He lines their thighs together, and Buck stops scratching, but only for a couple of minutes. Then he’s back at it, alternating between his arms and neck, leaving red skin in the wake of his blunt nails, so Eddie puts a hand on his knee to ground him. It works in the same way, though then Buck’s other leg starts to jolt, so Eddie wraps his arm around his shoulders and decides against saying platitudes he’d himself hate if he were in Buck’s place.
“Eddie,” Buck rasps out, so quiet he almost misses it. “I don’t want to take antidepressants.”
He’s looking right ahead, towards the reception desk, jaw clenched, tense under Eddie’s touch.
His leg starts bouncing again when Eddie takes too long to reply. He’s got an inkling about why Buck doesn’t want to take pills, but talking about that when he’s about to go inside is a bad idea.
“Let’s take it one day at a time. Today, you came to see your therapist. That’s a lot, Buck,” he says at length, and his partner stops fidgeting and even turns to look at him. “You don’t have to do it all today.”
"You don't want me to start on them right away?" Buck asks, tentative. "I'm not letting you down if I don't?"
Eddie hears what he's really asking: are you going to stick around if I don't take them?
Like hell Eddie will just let him fall again because he's not comfortable considering medication yet, or ever.
"I'm not letting you go again, Evan," he vows, turning on the uncomfortable, plastic chair so he can hug Buck close, hands spread over his ribs. "We'll face this together, with or without medication."
His partner holds on to his back, nodding against his neck. Buck’s therapist calls out his name then, and he goes inside after throwing Eddie one last, apprehensive look, like he’s not quite sure Eddie will be there when he’s done with his appointment.
Eddie sighs heavily, leaning his elbows on his knees, and waits.
He already got his miracle, so the only thing he expects from today is for Buck to walk out of the room in one piece, physically.
Mentally and emotionally, they both have a long way to go.
Chapter 8
Notes:
started writing, had a breakdown, bon appetit
thanks to my friend daze for the beta 🥹
Chapter Text
Buck feels his chin trembling as he sits down across from Dr. Copeland. She greets him warmly and doesn't push him to speak right away, just looks at him patiently, like he's worth waiting around for.
And he knows he's being fucking stupid, right from the beginning. She's his therapist, not his mother, but it's kind of the way he's always wanted his mother to regard him; like she cares, like Buck means something to her other than gum under her shoe that she can never scrub away completely.
He knows it's called transference, but having a name for it doesn't make him feel any less dumb.
He needs to do well on this: her assessment of his mental stability. He's painfully aware of the possibility of being kept on suicide watch, and then in an inpatient program while they pick his brain apart and give him drugs to try and fix him.
He almost starts scratching at his neck again before he remembers how patient Eddie has been with him since Buck told him the truth. He looks at his hands, his knuckles, the places Eddie has held and kissed many times already, and it gets easier to control his jaw when a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.
Eddie loves him. Maybe Buck isn't ready to live just for himself, but he can try to do it for him and Christopher. For their family.
"I'm tired," he starts with a rasp. He swallows hard and starts again. "I'm so tired of trying to be enough that I just… I was going to give up. I had a plan. I was going to do it yesterday. I had it all figured out. I've been writing goodbye letters for my sister and my friends, and I finished a couple of days ago, so I was gonna…" His voice cracks, and he has to rub his knuckles on his knees harshly to keep going. "I knew I needed help, but asking for it felt wrong when I was already bothering everyone so much just by being me."
His therapist gives him a few seconds to go on, quickly writing something down. "Let's try to elaborate on your last sentence first. You say you're bothering them by being yourself. What do you mean?"
For the first time, he's honest about how he truly feels about himself; how obnoxiously needy and disgusting and weak he is. He tells her he's trash, that he's desperate for attention all the time. How everyone just puts up with him when they have to, and they avoid seeing him more because he's just too much. How he's aware he shouldn’t feel the way he does, but he can't help needing so much, and how he tries to give back as much as he can to make up for it, but it's never enough to make people stay.
He tells her how Eddie is the first one to make him feel like it might be okay to be who he is. To be broken and still somehow enough to be loved.
She asks him about the plan he had and why he didn't go through with it. Buck squirms on the couch as he admits he wanted one last day with the Diaz boys, his favorite people in the whole world. He admits he's still thinking about killing himself, but he's promised Eddie and Christopher he's going to try to keep swimming with help, though he’s not feeling very confident that’s fair to them.
He tells her about last night, about Eddie's reaction to this whole thing. About them crying together, how he felt he was coming undone in Eddie's arms, how he was convinced he was ruining their lives when Christopher heard them, until he told Buck it was okay to need floaties, that it was okay not to be strong all the time.
He tells her he still thinks he's not supposed to be here, and his eyes burn, but he doesn't cry.
A part of him wants her to lock him up in the hospital, so Eddie has some time to reconsider and realize Buck isn't worth it. He’s not sure whether he says that out loud or not.
"You've learned since a very early age that love is conditional," Dr. Copeland says after Buck is done. "You're worried now that you've run out of fuel, so to speak, people are going to abandon you when you can't meet their expectations. But the thing is, Evan, those expectations you think the people you love have of you, those are your expectations, not theirs. They don't need you to be a hundred percent all the time. They don't need you to act like you're okay when you're not. They're not going to think less of you because you’re hurting. Love is not conditional, it's freely given when it's genuine. Think about how the 118 makes you feel, how Eddie made you feel when you opened up to him."
Buck blinks, feeling his eyes welling up, wondering if she could be right. If the family he's chosen could put up with him a little more if they found out how he's feeling.
Eddie has been so loving and great to him, despite everything, despite that Buck might as well have shouted he wanted to die while Christopher was too close and heard him.
His throat is getting tight, and his chest heaves as he forces deep breaths in and out.
"The perfect son your parents wanted you to be in order to love you, that's not the person your friends and family need you to be. They just need you to be you. You have inherent value to them, just the way you are. You can stop bending yourself backwards trying to earn their love. You already have it."
His face feels wet, but he only notices it when Dr. Copeland moves from her chair to sit next to him, leaving her notebook behind to squeeze his arm as he weeps. She hands him the box of tissues that she keeps around exactly for this, but Buck can't grab any. He just hunches down and cries, feeling like he's breathing for the first time in forever despite the fact that he can hardly get any air in between sobs.
"But… but what if–what if I lose it?" he asks brokenly. "If they can't deal with me, I don't… I don't want them to act like they care just because I might kill myself if they don't."
His therapist gives him a couple of minutes to wipe his face and blow his nose. Her eyes never stop looking kind, even behind her glasses. Buck knows it's her job, but he wants to believe that warmth is real. She knows so much about him already, and she was there when his parents made a half-assed attempt to connect with him only to end up flying back to Pennsylvania when he proved he was still not good enough, even as an adult.
"Do you think Eddie is lying? That he doesn't really love you, and he's just faking it to keep you safe?"
Buck freezes for a second, but he shakes his head slowly, staring down at his fists, crumpled tissues in them.
"No, but I'm not making it easy for him. Loving me is hard, and I don't know how long it's going to last. He shouldn't have to deal with me like this. I should be better. I should be making him happy, not… not giving him trouble."
He hasn't told her about Eddie rejecting him first and then confessing the reason he did it was fear. He's not sure he has enough in him to go there, so he just cries quietly and shoves down the panic that thinking about losing Eddie again makes him feel.
"Remember, you're making assumptions based on expectations of yourself that aren't Eddie's. Would it help if I talk to him alone? Give him the out you think he wants?"
He nods, even though he knows staying hospitalized in the psychiatric ward will finish him off almost as well as jumping off the ravine would have done. Being away from Eddie and Chris, having confirmation they don't want him with them after all, that’s just not something he can stand, not now, probably not ever.
She agrees to talk with Eddie at the end of their session. Buck feels too drained to keep speaking, so he mostly listens. She asks him more questions; when the last time he felt happy was, how hopeless things feel, how often he thinks about death, and if he has more plans in mind to commit suicide. She asks him stuff that makes him so ashamed to answer, but he does. She points out all the little and big ways Buck has been beating himself up most of his life, just for not being who his parents wanted him to be.
"They wanted Daniel. No one else was going to be up to par, Evan. They should have loved you anyway. I'm so sorry they didn't," she says, not for the first time, but it's the first time Buck believes her for a moment, the first time he believes that perhaps it wasn't his fault that all the people he's thought he let down in his life didn't love him, starting with them.
He cries again, nodding. He wants to thank her, but his voice refuses to work. It's weird, feeling like he might not be the waste of space he thought he was.
He's come a long way from flinching every time she calls him by his name. He can only tolerate it in small doses, even coming from Maddie and Eddie, even when it sounds like a term of endearment and it's not laced with resentment and disappointment.
She suggests he gives Maddie and the 118 the letters he wrote for them. That way the people closest to him will know what is going through his head without him having to articulate it out loud, and he will give them time to process it before seeing him in person. Buck isn’t so sure he wants everyone to read what he wrote when he was at his lowest, but just thinking about having to sit down and talk with them about this makes him want to give up again. So he agrees it’s a good idea and hopes everyone can forgive him when they find out what he's been keeping from them.
She tells him she's proud of the progress he’s made through the session, and he tries to feel optimistic even though he's hurting somewhere deep between his ribs. He feels like he’s just gone through the wringer, and the thought of doing this again terrifies him.
She expects to see him three times a week and for Buck to sign up for group therapy the rest of the week. She warns him he could feel worse at first, reminds him it's important he's not alone until this episode of suicidal ideation stops.
She says he's had major depression for years and asks him if he wants to see an attending psychiatrist who is on call today. He thinks it's funny she's phrasing it like he has a choice, but he appreciates the courtesy. He says yes, and she walks with him to another private room to have the consultation, taking him through the inner corridors of the hospital.
The doctor seems nice but distant, and Buck's leg bounces under the desk between them as she goes over what feels like a standard questionnaire (if he's feeling hungry, if he's lost weight, if he's having trouble sleeping, if he has periods with high energy and then low energy, any history of mental illnesses in his family, or any pre-existing condition she needs to know about), before pulling out the big guns.
“Do you want to kill yourself?”
“Not–not today,” Buck replies, suddenly not trusting he’s going to be allowed to leave this room at all with the way she’s staring and how her back is facing the door, and Buck is sitting too far away from it.
“What about tomorrow? Would you hurt yourself?”
Buck pauses. He thinks about Eddie smiling this morning and yesterday at the zoo, thinks about how amazing amor and vida sound coming from him, knowing what they mean. He thinks about Christopher calling him papa, asking him to stay. It’s what he wanted; to have a family, a place to belong, but he’s not sure things will work out. He could ruin everything so easily without even trying. He could be ruining it already because he can't pull himself together.
It’s awful, how he still wants to close his eyes and never wake up again, but he wants to try for now. Eddie is scared too, and he’s trying, so this is the least he can do.
He shakes his head. “Not tomorrow. But if I died, I think– I think it’d be better. For everyone.”
She types on his file and advises him to start taking Lexapro after making sure he’s not hiding an alternate suicide plan.
She's not fazed when Buck lists the side effects and shows his reluctance, but she's adamant most will go away after a few days of regular treatment and that they can try something else if it ends up not being a good choice for him.
She's very clear on the fact the best course of action is to attend his sessions with Dr. Copeland and group therapy while also taking the antidepressant she suggested. It'll take a month to start working, so she suggests Ativan for the time being too. She writes the prescription and tells him he can think about it, that they can talk about this again next time.
It hardly takes longer than fifteen minutes, and then he's out the door and ushered to sign himself up for the outpatient program.
He lingers by the secretary's desk, wondering if Eddie is still talking with Dr. Copeland. He scrubs at his face absent-mindedly as he fills the form he was handed and hesitates before writing Eddie's number as his emergency contact.
He realizes he should've waited for his partner to confirm he still wants to be with Buck and barely stops himself from tearing the sheet of paper apart.
Eddie finds him before he can go through with it. His hand is warm and sure as he takes Buck's, and he presses a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before peering down at what he's doing. Eddie's thumb caresses Buck's hand until he lets go of the pen he had in a death grip, and he breathes out shakily as he waits for his partner to say this is more than he can handle, that he’ll wait until Buck gets better.
He can’t even look at Eddie. He gets it. He has every right to wait until Buck isn’t coming apart at the seams, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
For him and Christopher, he’ll try to pull through on his own, to get better for them.
Maddie did it for her family, right? Except she chose to go through it alone, and everything Buck wants right now is to be held and seen even though he’s so very ashamed and he doesn’t really deserve it.
"Ready to go home?" Eddie says instead, so Buck's head snaps up to look at him, mind skidding to a halt at how his partner said home and how Eddie still wants to be here , supporting him when it’d be so easy to just… not be. To leave.
It’s what people usually do when Buck stops being a good time and things get serious.
He’s always been exhausting, way before Eddie pointed it out. His parents saw it and told him as much since he was old enough to understand, and he had numerous hookups that were almost a little more that ran for the hills after chewing him out for that very reason.
"I mean, Chris can stay with Pepa for the weekend, and I can stay with you at your apartment, but after–” Eddie rambles, so Buck squeezes his hand and bumps their shoulders to help him relax. “It’s your home too, Buck. I know I was an asshole to you, but it is. We want you there. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to lose your own space too.”
Buck has never thought much of his loft. It’s hardly been a home to him, only feeling like it for a while when he was living with Taylor. On his own, it feels like an abyss, and it swallows him whole when he’s alone there.
There's a part of him that still thinks he's fooling everyone, Eddie especially, that he's tricking them into caring about him. He can't be a good person, not with how much he's fucked things up.
Eddie’s gaze is soft, undemanding. Buck feels part of his fear melting with the warmth and light of his brown eyes. He finishes filling in the form, scribbling Eddie’s address instead of his own along with Eddie’s number, and nods.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Buck wants a picture of the slight, private smile Eddie gives him then. He asks Eddie to go with him to the pharmacy instead, and Eddie pushes his arm against his so Buck doesn’t vibrate out of his skin as they wait for his prescription.
He sneaks a selfie of the two of them, walking hand in hand through the hospital parking lot, and that makes Eddie smile wider, so even with the bottles of pills burning a hole through the pocket of his jeans, he feels… like maybe, at some point, he could be okay.
***
He tries calling Maddie on their way to pick Christopher up, to ask her to hand the letters to everyone. It’s fuzzy, what he put in words for them, but he remembers the sentiment, and he knows he will harm his sister and his friends if he shows them. Yet he promised he was going to try and fight, and he needs their support if he’s going to make it. And he wants to make it, he does, it’s just the cost of it he’s not so sure of.
Is he really worth Maddie’s tears, her inevitable guilt and pain? Is he worth giving Bobby a hard time, reminding Athena of May’s attempt a few years back? Worrying Hen and Chimney over something he didn't do in the end? He knows better than this. He knows he’s not.
What was he thinking, confessing it to Eddie instead of enjoying their new relationship? What was he thinking, agreeing when Dr. Copeland suggested it? He should burn his suicide notes, forget he ever wrote them, and come up with a backup plan just in case he needs to go , before he disappoints Eddie completely, before he screws up with Christopher again. He could drive to the beach and just let go–
He ends up having a panic attack. Eddie parks his truck on a random street and opens the passenger door to guide him through breathing in fours, slowly and deeply, copying his own rhythm.
By then, Buck realizes he’s passed out for a minute. Everything is too bright, too loud when he comes to. His chest feels like it’s on fire, taking gasping breath after gasping breath, and it’s more the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him than his voice that brings him back, it’s Eddie rubbing his back and keeping a hand on his own chest so Buck can follow along to his breathing.
His voice is a great comfort too, but Buck can hardly make sense of English, so he’s not certain if Eddie called him vida or amor again. He thinks (hopes) he did.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie is saying when Buck’s brain goes back online, moving a hand to curl on the side of Buck's neck, gentle and grounding. “You’ve done so much today. Let’s try calling Maddie tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Maddie. Buck blinks through his still racing thoughts and sees his phone on the car floor, screen alight with a call from her. He must’ve called her and then blacked out before speaking, or maybe she’s calling to check in, both at the right and wrong time for him to answer.
He looks around slowly and ducks his head back down fast. People are staring. Eddie shouldn’t have parked here, and he definitely shouldn’t be holding Buck to his chest like the world around them doesn’t matter.
“I’m sorry. I’m okay now,” he mumbles. “We should, um, we should go, Eddie.”
His partner doesn’t seem convinced but nods and straightens up after a moment. He kisses Buck’s temple before circling the car to drive again, and Buck’s eyes fill with tears, but he grinds his teeth against crying.
Eddie might think he’s done a lot today, but it feels like everything he’s done is whining, and he doesn’t want Christopher to worry about him again.
Eddie’s aunt insists they stay for dinner. She’s made empanadas de picadillo, one of Buck’s favorites, and Chris is very excited since he helped in the kitchen and knows the Diaz family recipe now, a very guarded secret that Buck has always begged for after eating them and gotten both Josefina and Isabel to laugh every time.
“You can teach your papa later, corazón,” she stage-whispers, and Christopher nods eagerly. “Who’s to say, even your dad might learn.”
“Oye, yo sé cómo prepararlas. Tú misma me enseñaste.” (Hey, I know how to make them. You taught me yourself.)
“Ah sí? No se nota, nunca las haces. Seguro ya te olvidaste.” (Oh yeah? I can’t tell, you never make them. I’m sure you already forgot.”)
Buck smiles a little as he listens to Eddie bantering with Pepa. He gets what they’re saying, though their rapid-fire Spanish really tests his ears. Even Chris joins in, teasing Eddie about the lack of patience he has for being in the kitchen.
It’s only then he catches up to the first thing Pepa said; her permission for him to cook her family recipe with Christopher, and it’s both incredibly humbling and overwhelming.
He’s never expected to actually get it. He might be an honorary Diaz to them, but that’s not enough to qualify, or at least that’s what he thought. Clearly, being Eddie’s boyfriend has granted him more rights than he should have, in more ways than one.
Eddie’s hand rests gently on his thigh, a silent question in his eyes when he stays quiet and still for too long. His aunt and Chris have moved on to talk about their zoo visit, and Buck pushes himself to have a second empanada, even though he's not hungry and they're huge.
"You're a good cook. You just don't like it when it takes too long," he remarks, and his partner's gaze softens.
Eddie's just not very into it when it's time-consuming or if there's an easier alternative (read: cereal in the morning instead of actual food), which is why Buck always tries to have stuff ready for him and Christopher to eat.
Baking and cooking in general has always been soothing for him, ever since Bobby taught him how, especially if it means making the people he loves happy. Even when he had trouble getting out of bed, cooking for Eddie and Chris made him feel useful. He won't lie and say it wasn't a struggle to keep doing it when Eddie started to pull away after Buck's ill-timed confession, but he managed by only preparing food for them instead of feeding himself, letting laundry pile up, just barely getting by while trying to picture their smiles as they ate Buck’s food.
He knows it’s messed up, but their smiles are still the one thing anchoring him to reality, to his life. He knows he has to be better for them, he has to–
"We'll prepare the empanadas during the week, if you want," Eddie offers, pulling him from his thoughts.
He nods and focuses on eating, ignoring the urge to get lost in his head or to get up and go away. It helps that Eddie keeps his palm on his thigh and that Christopher is showing Pepa the pictures of their trip yesterday, probably not for the first time, and he ropes Buck into telling her all about it too.
***
Buck has enough stuff in Eddie's place that they don't need to stop by his apartment before driving home.
He opens his mouth to protest when Eddie leads him to his room after going through Christopher's night routine, which is fast now that he chooses to listen to audiobooks instead of having Eddie or him read to him. He claims he's too old for it, and he's probably right, but Buck would do it again in a heartbeat. Promising him they'll watch Finding Dory tomorrow before turning the light off is easy.
It makes no sense to sleep on the couch, Eddie points out. They slept together last night in Buck's bed, and he's suddenly aware Eddie has to keep an eye on him at all times, so he relents.
He puts the meds on the bedside table before changing, grabbing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt (that used to be Eddie's) to sleep in.
He doesn't think he's actually going to get any rest. Staring at the ceiling and berating himself for his life choices is what he's been doing lately, except for the couple of hours he got last night with Eddie and Chris. Following Eddie with his gaze as he walks around the room and hearing him checking every door is locked and that Christopher is okay before coming to bed almost makes him feel sleepy, but not quite.
His head throbs. He's so exhausted. His body moves on its own accord when Eddie lies beside him, seeking his warmth and latching onto his side with the urgent need to check Eddie still wants him close.
The way Eddie's body relaxes and how he seems to breathe Buck in as he's nuzzling into his hair, it's exactly what he needs to stop feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. This was just day one, and it's been such a roller coaster of emotions, but Eddie's been there for all the ups and downs. He's a constant in a world that is crumbling apart, helping him put it back together brick by brick.
"I love you," he says into Eddie's neck, kissing the spot where his pulse jumps as he's brushing his lips over it. "Thank you… for everything."
Eddie drapes an arm around his waist, keeping him close as he turns to his side so they can look at each other.
"I love you too," his partner reciprocates, pressing a kiss on his brow. "You're not saying goodbye, right?"
He shakes his head. "Sorry, I didn't realize how that'd sound."
He feels Eddie’s throat working, like he's trying not to cry. He wants to apologize again, so he gets up on his elbow to do so, knows he has to, but Eddie tightens his arms around him and shuts him up with a slow, soft kiss.
He forgets for a few minutes that this could be normal if it weren't for the mess in his head, forgets he's like a ticking time bomb that needs to be defused. He tosses a leg around Eddie's hips, holds onto his back and shoulder, and kisses him back with every bit of love and loyalty, vulnerability and strength he's got. He's given Eddie his heart more times than he can count, so doing it again is easier than breathing at this point.
They're both panting when they separate slightly, just enough to lean their foreheads together. The hand Eddie has on his waist has dipped a little lower but not low enough he should be getting any ideas, though he can feel they both got a little heated by the kiss.
He kind of wants to go there, wants to show Eddie how much fun they can have together, but his body isn't connecting to his brain right. His body is feeling the heat, but his mind is drowning in guilt and shame and disgust, not really feeling sexy at all.
A part of him insists he has to try because he needs to give his partner a reason to stay, and sex has always been something he's great at.
"What's on your mind?" Eddie asks softly, his thumb brushing the line of his jaw in a way that is both calming and electrifying at the same time.
Buck licks his lips, smirking the slightest bit when he catches Eddie's eyes following the movement.
"I want you," he hears himself say, voice low and hoarse, gently coaxing Eddie to lie on his back. "Do you want me?"
He's straddling Eddie's hips without waiting for an answer, but his partner reaches to turn the lamp on and grabs his hips before he can fully grind against him.
"I do, Buck, but I think we shouldn't rush it,” Eddie’s tone is gentle, and he’s barely done talking before sitting up to kiss him, letting Buck wrap his legs around him as he returns it, even if it’s just to sit on his lap, keeping a couple of inches between them. “I don’t want you to feel used, or like you have to give me something for being here with you.”
His breath stutters in his lungs as they gaze at each other.
Eddie has always been so good at reading him, but he’s never actually gone and seen right through him as he’s doing right now.
“Let me do something for you, Eddie, please,” he begs. “I need–I need to make it good for you.”
“What we have is already great, amor,” his partner insists. He cups Buck’s face when he opens his mouth, ready to object again. “You’re already doing so much. You’re being brave. You’re accepting my help, getting treatment. You forgave me, even after how much I hurt you. That means everything to me.”
They haven’t really talked about it, have they? About how much it wrecked him, having Eddie lying about his feelings for him, and then pretending Buck had overstepped with Christopher.
He doesn’t think he has it in him to go there, not tonight, probably not anytime soon. He’s still thinking about the letters and what he’s going to do with them.
He sighs brokenly and pecks Eddie’s lips before tucking his head under his chin, wrapping his arms around him.
“When did you get this wise?” he wonders, affecting a miffed tone. He’s impressed and proud, actually, but he feels like he’s missed a few things along the way. “You’re kinda different. I like it, but I just… what happened, baby?”
The pregnant pause that follows is long. He straightens up, feeling Eddie’s body tense and sweaty, even shaking slightly. It takes him a minute to realize Eddie is trapped in a flashback, and he has no fucking idea how to help him. He did it a lot after the sniper, but not while being in bed with him, not when it feels like if he moves an inch, he might make it worse.
“Eddie?” he calls out, hesitant. “Talk to me, please.”
That gets his partner to blink again, at least. It takes a few more seconds for his eyes to focus on Buck, and he moves slowly, palms caressing Eddie’s back to get his muscles to uncoil, kneading his shoulders before settling on the sides of his neck.
“I thought I lost you,” Eddie whispers, and the few tears that fall down his face when he blinks feel like Buck’s being gutted. “I know you didn’t jump, but to me… to me, it felt real, Buck.”
Oh. He’s managed to traumatize his partner without actually going through with it. He can’t even imagine the pain he would’ve caused Eddie if he’d gotten away with it. He wouldn’t be here, struggling and hurting, but Eddie would be feeling so terribly bad, and he wouldn’t even know it.
“I’m sorry,” he kisses Eddie’s cheeks, biting back a sob, and holds him tight, letting Eddie hear the quick beating of his heart. “I hurt you too, Eddie. I’m so sorry.”
It takes them hours to calm down, to stop whispering promises and apologies to one another, but at least this time Christopher sleeps right through it. It helps him not to drown in guilt, though being responsible for Eddie’s pain is almost too much for him to bear.
By the time they can lie down to rest, the sun is peeking through the blinds, and they’re still holding onto each other, not ready to let go.
***
It’s a slow day. Christopher wakes them up at one in the afternoon, and they decide to skip breakfast and order junk food for lunch. It’s hardly healthy, but Eddie brushes his offer to make lunch off, stating they all need to rest.
The three of them cuddle on the couch with fries and burgers, and they watch Finding Dory in their pajamas. They’ve seen it so many times that even Eddie knows some of the dialogue, and by the time he needs to go for his first group therapy, he’s managed to take a quick shower while Pepa stops by to pick Christopher up.
He doesn’t talk after introducing himself, but no one makes him. When someone shares, they usually say antidepressants have helped them to get by, but that pills sometimes mute every emotion, even the good ones, so taking them regularly is a struggle. Most people complain about changes in their weight and their appetites too, and in their sexual drive. Some of them have already tried every sort of medication there is, and Buck feels simultaneously encouraged to at least try and very concerned that taking something will just make things worse.
They’re asked to bring a list of things that have helped to stop considering suicide for their next meeting. He feels like he could fill an entire page talking about Eddie and Christopher, so he does. He folds it and puts it in his wallet, so he doesn’t forget the assignment for Tuesday, and then he asks Eddie to drive to his apartment.
He grabs the notes and throws them on the counter for his partner to see. He doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’s expecting, but Eddie just looks at him, giving him time to choose what to do, without even asking what they are.
Maybe it’s obvious enough, and Eddie was expecting them to exist.
Last night made him realize that whether he gives everyone the notes or not, they’re going to get hurt by what he almost did. They’re going to feel guilty, even though it’s not their fault. So he gives Eddie his letter and tries not to choke on how much he hates himself and what he’s making his partner go through.
Eddie promises he’ll read it during his session with Frank and that he will only ask Buck about it when he’s ready. He nods, resolute that whenever Eddie brings it up, he will give him all the answers he asks for.
He ends up texting Maddie, asking her to come if she can. Eddie stays up in his room when his sister shows up not even half an hour later, and she hugs him tight right after he opens the door.
It’s been a while since the last time they saw each other. How long has it been? A week, two? He can’t remember.
“Evan! Are you okay? Chim told me you didn’t make it to your shift.”
He’s been trying not to think about work. Bobby has to know he’s on medical leave by now, and since Eddie asked him for time off, it’s only a matter of time before their Captain puts two and two together, if he hasn’t already.
He’s surprised everyone isn’t in on it already, wondering what happened to him.
“I have depression,” he blurts out because there’s no easy way to say it. He hands Maddie her letter and a bundle with the others and watches how her expressive eyes well up. “It’s… it’s bad. I’m sorry, Maddie. I won’t be able to work for a while, and I don’t want to talk about it, I just… I thought maybe you should have this. And if–if you could give these to everyone, I’d–I'd really appreciate it.”
He can see she's holding back. His stomach clenches, almost hearing her suggesting he checks himself into a clinic like she did. She used to be a nurse too, so he wouldn’t begrudge her for saying it’d be better if he did, but it’s not something he wants to hear. The fact he shouldn’t be here still rings loudly in his mind as it is.
He ducks his head, waiting, scratching behind his ear. It’s itchy there, his skin crawling all over as Maddie stares at him.
“Okay. I won’t say anything. You’re staying with Eddie, right? I’m here for you if you need me, little brother,” she says at length, and her voice wavers, a watery smile on her face, but Buck is very attuned to how disappointment looks, and he’s not getting that from her, just worry. “Can we get together for lunch tomorrow? It’s been a while since we hung out. I miss you.”
Eddie chooses that moment to come down the stairs, winding an arm around Buck’s shoulders. It’s a common, easy gesture between them, something they’ve done a thousand times in front of people, but Maddie’s eyes still widen, and her smile turns knowing as she looks over at Buck.
“Hey, Maddie,” Eddie greets casually. “My abuela will have my balls if I don’t take Buck with me for lunch tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Hi, Eddie. Of course. Monday, then?”
He has therapy, but he still nods. Maddie hugs him again before leaving, her note gripped tightly in her hand, the rest put away in her purse.
She texts him later, reassuring him she’ll pass the letters and his wish not to mention this along. Buck only sees the notification on the screen, since he’s been ignoring his phone ever since they came back from the zoo.
He doesn’t want to know if he has missed calls or texts from the 118. If he does, he’s going to feel like an ass for not replying. If he doesn’t, he’s going to feel like he doesn’t matter to them, which–yeah. It’s a lose-lose scenario.
***
Isabel gives him a warm, long hug as soon as he’s out of Eddie’s truck. She pinches Christopher’s cheek, just to rile him up, and then pinches Eddie’s and Buck’s too, complaining they’re all too skinny. It makes Buck smile, and Chris takes his hand as they go inside, already chatting cheerfully with his grandmother.
There is so much food on the long table in her backyard that Buck panics thinking more people are coming and turns to his partner with half a plea to escape. Eddie rubs his back and kisses him softly, and his smile against his lips grounds him.
“This is just for us, amor. Relax.”
“Wow.”
There’s a veritable feast, all dishes Buck can only dream about cooking and getting the same flavor in them; tamales, quesadillas, tacos, roasted pork, canapes, and finger food enough to feed an entire fire station.
“Abuela, this is awesome! Can we take some home?”
“Of course, mi niño. It’s all for you! A party to celebrate your dad finally growing some huevos!” (Of course, my boy. It’s all for you! A party to celebrate your dad finally growing some balls!”)
Buck and Chris burst out laughing at that, and Eddie spills half the glass of wine he was serving.
“Abuela! Christopher already roasted me enough, he doesn’t need your help.”
“Did he now?” Christopher nods, clearly proud of himself, and they high-five behind Eddie’s long-suffering expression, but Buck can see he’s actually biting back a smile.
“Nieto, with all the heart eyes I had to endure these last couple of years, I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it.”
She leaves Eddie alone for a while as she leads them to their seats (she insists Eddie sits at the head of the table, with Christopher and Buck at his sides, and she sits at Christopher’s right) and asks everyone to hold hands as she says a prayer before they eat.
It’s something she always does when they visit, so he’s not surprised by it. But then she thanks God for him , beaming at Buck like he’s everything she’s ever wanted for Eddie, and he has to wipe some tears from his eyes. Eddie squeezes his hand a little tighter and leans in to kiss his cheek.
He feels so touched, for a moment he forgets how messed up he is inside and how Isabel wouldn’t be saying any of those wonderful things if she only knew.
But Eddie knows. He knows everything, and he is looking at Buck like he’s exactly what he wants, and that–that’s more than enough to keep him from spiraling.
***
He’s having heart palpitations, and his chest feels uncomfortably tight as he’s waiting for Maddie to arrive, sitting at an outside table, just watching people walk by instead of drinking the coffee he ordered. Maybe he should start taking Ativan like his psychiatrist told him to, at least for a couple of weeks? The bottle is at home, for obvious reasons, but maybe it’d help him not to lose it every five seconds if he took them for a while.
He’s still not sure he did the right thing with the goodbye letters he wrote. He’s probably going to spend the entire session with his therapist trying to learn how to live with the fact they know everything. The only saving grace is that he didn’t see the looks on their faces when they realized what a fucking failure he is.
Maddie greets him with a hug, lingering close and shaking a little as she clings to his shoulders. He wouldn’t blame her if she had to say something after reading the letter, but at the same time, he thinks he might throw up if she does.
His sister eventually lets go of him, smiling through the sheen of tears in her eyes, and jumps into telling Buck about Jee and then her work at Dispatch. Both Josh and Sue are sick, so she’s been really busy supervising and taking extra shifts. It’s great seeing the satisfaction on her face, the confidence, and he’s missed her too.
She apologizes for being busy, but he brushes it off. He understands that life gets in the way, and not being one of Maddie’s priorities is okay. He'll take what he can get. He always does.
“Let’s do this every week, okay?” She raises her hand for them to pinky promise, and Buck smiles as they do it.
When it’s time for him to leave for therapy, Eddie comes to pick him up, leaning down to greet him with a kiss that makes him smile up at him in awe.
They were just apart for a couple of hours, but Buck really needed that bit of validation, even though he’s aware Eddie isn’t fond of PDA.
“Thank you for saving my brother,” Maddie says, hugging Eddie close for a moment before they leave the cafe. “He’s lucky to have you. We all are.”
Eddie seems taken aback by her earnestness. He nods stiffly, the compliment sitting ill with him until Buck takes his hand and bumps their shoulders together.
“You did save me,” he reminds his partner softly. “Maddie’s right.”
Eddie still doesn’t look convinced, but his shoulders loosen, and his eyes stop looking haunted, so Buck drops it for now. They’ll need to talk about it at some point, whenever the guilt they’re both carrying doesn’t have them in a chokehold.
***
They join Christopher and Dr. Lin for the last part of his appointment.
Buck expects to feel crushed, more than he already is about exposing their kid to his mental illness, but Christopher’s therapist explains depression in such simple terms and answers Chris’s questions easily, not once making Buck feel like it’s his fault or like Christopher would be better off without him, that he actually feels a little better.
He compares it to Christopher’s crutches, how he needs certain accommodations sometimes to do things without hurting himself, stating Buck’s brain also needs a little extra to do and interpret things properly, that with therapy he can lead a normal life, just like Christopher does.
Eddie is clearly relieved as well. Dr. Lin steps outside with them for a moment as Christopher is getting ready to leave, assuring them their son is taking this exceptionally well.
“I always advise parents to keep their kids in the loop, to be honest about their condition just like they would if they had diabetes,” Dr. Lin tells them. “You’re handling this the best way you can. You both have a strong bond with him. Christopher trusts you, he’ll talk to you if he’s upset or overwhelmed in any way. I’d like to see him once a week for now, but we can probably keep it to once or twice a month once things are more settled.”
He thinks about the pills sitting on Eddie’s bedside table as they’re leaving. Christopher’s therapist didn’t mention anything about meds, but Buck still feels obligated to do everything he possibly can to get better.
That night he just stares at the bottle after they've turned in. Eddie has one hand lying on his stomach, and he's breathing close against his nape, their shins brushing. Being in Eddie's arms like this is something he's dreamed of too many times to count, and he eventually falls asleep for a while, breathing in and out at the same time he feels Eddie's chest rise and fall against his back.
***
Buck is climbing up the walls with anxiety by the time Eddie is back from seeing Frank. They manage to schedule it at the same time as his group therapy, but he still spends the whole session remembering that Eddie is going to read his suicide note, and he's going to feel like Buck losing his shit is his fault when it's no one's fault but his own.
But Maddie did it. She read it, and she doesn't hate him, so maybe Eddie… maybe Eddie won't hate him either?
Nothing is different when his partner comes to get him. He puts his palms right over Buck's ribs as he pulls him close to press a short kiss to his lips, and his eyes are still soft as he looks at Buck.
Buck is a little thrown by his easy acceptance, but he really shouldn't be. This is the same man that Buck was an ass to during their first day at work together and the same man who trusted Buck to assist him while pulling a live grenade out of a patient's leg in spite of it.
"Are we okay?" He still has to check.
Eddie kisses his knuckles, the answer already bright in his eyes, and starts leading them to the exit.
He always knows when to push and when to pull, when to hold him tight and when to just be there.
Buck feels safe with him, he always has since the first time in that ambulance.
"Yeah. We are."
Hearing it still helps him release the breath he'd been holding.
"If–If you want us to talk about it, we can," he offers quietly, just before they get in Eddie's truck. "Not like right now. I know you must be tired from your session with Frank."
And from dealing with Buck's shit twenty-four/seven, though he doesn't say that part.
“Thank you for trusting me with it,” is all Eddie says. He starts the engine, turning to give Buck a small smile that’s disarming in its honesty.
Dr. Copeland has already told him he’s not responsible for how people react to his letters, but it’s only then that Buck feels like it might be true.
Chapter 9
Notes:
sorry for the long wait. I'm not giving up on finishing this story, it's just hard to find time to write it the way i want.
thanks to my friend daze for the beta 🥹
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Getting invited to a meet at Athena and Bobby's place doesn't come as a surprise. He doubts he's the sole reason for it, but coincidentally, it's a good way for everyone to check on him after finding out he's not exactly doing well.
Eddie doesn't assume they're going. He asks Buck if he wants to go, which means if he says no, then he's not going either, and Christopher won't be able to see Harry or Denny this time.
He's always taken every decision he's ever made thinking about someone else. Well, except for the lawsuit and when he thought if he took himself out of the picture, that no one would miss him too terribly. Both times are listed in his list of monumental mistakes in his life, at the very top.
It's difficult, learning to find some sort of middle ground. His therapist has been encouraging him to go with his gut, to stop himself from overthinking things.
He wants to go, but he doesn't want his presence to sour anyone's mood. He's not exactly good company lately, and acting normally seems impossible when he's worn-out from his own therapy, working through things with Eddie, and taking care of Christopher, even if it's mostly doing some cooking, helping him with his homework, giving him extra hugs, and just being close. It’s not a chore at all, being around for him, though he still has to stop himself from thinking both him and Eddie would be better off without him.
"The minute you're uncomfortable, we leave, no questions asked," Eddie assures him, helping him to snap out of that gloomy line of thought.
He's been so accommodating. Buck is sure he'd make himself go even if he didn't want to, just to give Eddie a break and a chance to hang out with everyone. But he’s already tried to ask how his partner feels about it, and Eddie made it clear he doesn't mind either way.
Buck really wants to go. The thing is… he's also scared, not only of the possibility of earning his friends' hatred but of them behaving differently towards him.
He doesn't want the 118 to treat him with kid gloves. He doesn't want them to look at him like he's going to break if they aren't careful.
There's no better way to find out than facing them. It's been a week, but Buck isn't delusional enough to think he's going back to work anytime soon, so this might be his only chance to see them in a while.
He feels silly worrying about their reaction so much when Athena greets him with a hug just like normal, and Buck is able to sit next to Eddie without feeling like everyone is staring at him, even when he just listens to their conversations instead of talking. If he’s holding onto Eddie’s hand a little too tightly from time to time, his partner just squeezes right back and fills every silence for the both of them. Hell, they’re not even staring at their joined hands, just smiling and joking like usual, though he thinks he catches Hen and Chim fist bumping behind the couch.
Bobby says they miss him and Eddie at the station, that it isn't the same without them there, and Hen and Chimney are quick to agree. Buck gets it, since Eddie is an asset Bobby fought to have in the 118, and they're all used to working together. He almost apologizes for keeping Eddie off work, barely stopping himself from indirectly addressing the elephant in the room.
He's saved by Christopher, who comes into the living room and makes a beeline for him, throwing his arms around Buck's neck and curling up against him like he's half-asleep.
It's been years since he's acted like this, so Buck knows something is up. Eddie gives him a conspiratory smile and lowers his voice as if he’s buying into Chris’ ruse.
"You looked like me when grandma and grandpa are visiting," Christopher whispers to him. "Dad always rescues me, so I came to rescue you."
He smiles and holds Chris closer, pressing a kiss to his hair. "Thanks, Superman. You’re a lifesaver."
***
Maddie keeps their promise, and they have lunch together once a week.
Athena invites them over almost every weekend, and when she's not able to, Hen does. Bobby always cooks up a storm, sharing his recipes and asking for Buck's opinion on new dishes he's working on. Hen tells him about her latest tests, and the new insufferable classmates she's met, and asks Buck to help her with short quizzes. Chimney gushes over Jee and asks for Buck's opinion on getting her some educational toys he's been reading on, joking with him as if nothing has changed.
Eddie is always there, keeping an arm around his waist or hips almost constantly, never more than a foot away. His partner chats with everyone too, chiming in whenever Buck gets in his head too much while bringing him back with gentle words or touches or both, and it feels almost like before, when things were good, before Buck ruined everything. It's great, and he starts to look forward to seeing them, as much as he dreads the moment they will get busy again and stop reaching out to him.
After the fourth time they hang out with everyone, he starts taking Lexapro. The doctor said to take it before bed, but with a full stomach if he could, so he takes the bottle to Athena's place and drinks apple juice instead of beer, sneaking to the bathroom to take it right after dinner.
Half an hour later, he falls asleep on Eddie's shoulder. His partner wakes him up when it’s time to go. Saying goodbye to everyone, the drive back home and what they do before bed is all a blur.
The next morning, he feels queasy and woozy. He can't get out of bed to make breakfast, and even though he’s sweated through his clothes and the sheets are damp beneath him, he’s too tired to move.
Eddie frowns at him in concern, asks if he’s okay, but Buck mumbles he just wants to sleep for a little longer, and he does. His partner wakes him up at some point later, helps him into the shower. He blinks blearily, not really ashamed he’s naked as Eddie holds him up for the water to run down his body. It’s not the first time he’s been naked around him, after all, and he’s just too woozy to care.
Was he supposed to take half the pill? He can’t remember. Did he fuck up somehow?
“You only took one, right?” Eddie asks as he’s gently patting him dry while Buck just sits on the toilet lid and swallows through a mouth that feels bone-dry. “Buck?”
Buck doesn’t blame him, not really, but he still flinches a little. “Yeah, I didn’t–you can, um, you can check the bottle.”
“I believe you, I just needed to check. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Eddie kisses his damp brow and goes away for a bit.
Buck stays put, hears him in the other room, probably changing the sheets. He wonders if Eddie will count the pills, just in case. He’d do it, if he were in Eddie’s shoes. In any case, he’s never considered overdose as a good method to end things (too many variables he can’t control, too high a chance of being saved), but stating as much will probably just make things worse.
By the time Eddie comes back, he’s managed to put some underwear and a sweatshirt on that smells like Eddie’s aftershave – peppermint, and something citrusy, and he can blink without the walls spinning around him. Eddie helps him to the bed and lies down next to him, wrapping an arm around Buck when he presses his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder and closes his eyes, which were crossing a little as he tried to peek at what Eddie is reading on his phone.
“Maybe skip it today, and we can try with half tomorrow?” his partner suggests. “What did the doctor say? Did they warn you this could happen?”
“Hmm.” Buck burrows deeper into him, trying to hide a wince because his head is hurting worse than a bad hangover. “Yeah. Told me to suck it up for a few days.”
He’s pretty sure Eddie curses and then he’s talking with someone on the phone. Probably Hen, by the back and forth of medical jargon he hears distantly.
Buck is just glad he didn’t start taking Ativan too, or he’d probably be in the hospital right now.
***
By the time Christopher is back from school, Buck is not feeling better. He’s a combination of hot and cold that can’t be by any means healthy. A teeny voice in his head insists he tells Eddie he’s not okay, but he ignores it. He’s enough of a handful for his partner as it is. He doesn’t need to be babied and taken to the emergency room because he’s having a hard time adjusting to antidepressants.
It’s okay for a bit, as he curls into Eddie’s side and just tries to sleep it off. It’s okay until he starts shaking and Eddie asks him things that his mouth is too numb to answer to, his brain trying to work as if through molasses with each word his partner says, can’t tell whether it’s even English or not. Buck speaks decent Spanish, though Eddie has never used it in whole sentences when they’re alone, just bits and pieces, and he always pauses to make sure Buck gets it. He’s so considerate and sweet, and Buck adores him with every atom of his body, every ion and cation and space in between. He’s not quite sure what’s going on, but he’s so cold, and Eddie keeps pulling the blankets off of him, and he’s looking more and more furious or frantic or both.
Something’s worrying his partner, he realizes. Why isn’t he telling Buck what it is, so maybe they can try and fix it together? They’re a team, now more than ever, right? So why–
Oh. Oh, no. Maybe he’s done with Buck already. He has to be. Familiar dread fills him quickly, and even the tears running down his cheeks feel like molten lava. He’s so hot that he’s burning up, and he wants to die, but not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! Not with Eddie looking!
***
Eddie has no idea how he manages to grab Christopher, leaving his half-finished homework on the table, and get him in the car along with his crutches, all while absently checking his backpack has enough stuff in it for him to be okay outside of home for a few hours, and then go back for his partner who is currently running the highest fever Eddie has ever felt and trembling so hard it’s a feat to get him out of bed.
He scoops Buck up, barely considering wrapping him up in a sheet or blanket before discarding the idea, and carries him to the back seat. Buck’s burning up so bad, the boxers and Eddie’s ratty t-shirt that he’s wearing will have to do because Eddie didn’t realize fucking sooner it was this bad.
“I need you to watch his head while I drive, okay, Chris?”
Their kid nods, his small hands holding Buck’s head through his sweaty curls firmly. “I got him, Dad.”
“I know you do, son. He’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
He’s making all three of them, his family, that promise. Buck moans as if in reply, and the way Christopher shushes him while comforting him, wiping the sweat off Buck’s forehead gently, just about breaks Eddie’s heart while making it full to bursting at the same time.
He speeds to First Presbyterian but only a little. He mostly uses his phone to find the quickest way there without putting Chris and Buck in danger. He doesn’t want to get into another accident, not when he’s back to normal, and he’s got the most precious people in the world in the car with him.
***
The doctor asks him about ten times how many pills Buck took. Eddie gets tired of replying the same thing over and over (just one, yes, I’m sure) and ends up shoving the stupid bottle in the doctor’s hands, not cursing only because Christopher is tucked into his side as they’re sitting in the waiting room of the ER.
“Count them if you want,” he says scathingly, like it’s a dare. “This isn’t a suicide attempt. Trust me, I know.”
A nurse ends up apologizing to him later. Apparently, a severe reaction like this from a starting dose of Escitalopram is very rare. Eddie doesn’t have it in him to be surprised anymore because that’s just Buck’s and his own damn luck.
It’s touch and go for about three hours. Nurses and doctors rush in and out of the room, and Eddie knows better than to hover, but he still tries to catch anyone’s eyes to silently ask for any kind of update.
Once they’ve told him it looks like Buck is stable and won’t be needing to be intubated, he breathes for what feels like the first time in ages. His eyes sting, his throat is so dry it hurts when he swallows, and there’s a phantom pain in his chest (the one he felt over and over again when Buck kept dying no matter what Eddie tried to do to stop him), and it’s best he stops taking stock there. Christopher needs to eat, and he needs to have at least some water. He could get up and go to a vending machine, but he’s so tired.
He almost lost Buck again. He can’t quite wrap his head around it. He’s sure he’s going to have a panic attack when the information sinks in.
It’s all he can do to stay where he is, hugging Christopher close.
His phone is in his ear before he can fully think about it.
“Hey, Bobby. We’re in the hospital. I… I need help.”
***
Eddie isn’t asleep, but he startles when Athena and Bobby arrive.
Instead of demanding anything, Bobby asks Christopher if he’d like to go grab food for everyone. Eddie nods before his kid can ask, and he watches his Captain and son walk out of the hospital.
Athena presses a water bottle into his hand, already uncapped. Eddie drinks it absently after rubbing a hand over his face. She has coffee for them both in her other hand and hands it over as soon as Eddie is done with the water.
It’s only when the quiet between them gets a little awkward that Eddie remembers how this all looks.
“He didn’t– he had an adverse reaction to the antidepressant he was prescribed,” he explains quickly. “I watched him all day, but the minute I got up to check on Chris, he–”
“Eddie, this isn’t your fault,” Athena cuts in. “I’m pretty sure you just saved Buck again. You can breathe.”
He’s not sure he remembers how to do it properly, and he won’t, not until he can be by Buck’s side again, but he nods all the same.
***
It turns out that by ‘everyone’ Bobby did mean everyone, and by the time he and Chris are back with burgers and fries, Eddie and Athena are joined by Maddie, Chimney, Hen, and Karen.
Christopher eats beside him, feeding Eddie fries every now and then as he just blinks and stares at the doors Buck was taken through.
“I should’ve brought him in sooner.”
“Maybe, but they might’ve just sent you home then,” Hen tells him, and her voice is soft, no anger in it whatsoever even though she spent close to half an hour explaining what he had to be on the lookout for in case of severe side effects and Eddie still screwed it up. “Hey. I mean it, Eddie. No one was going to take it seriously, not after just 10 mg.”
“Yeah, man. Don’t think about should’ves. Buck is going to be okay,” Chim seconds.
“You got him here just in time,” Maddie assures him with a small smile.
For a second, Eddie feels a white hot shock of anger. It tries to take root in his chest and make him spit out words he’d regret later. Still, he lets the emotion go through him, acknowledges it in his heart.
How can you be so calm? He could be dead right now. A part of him wants to hit them where it’d hurt the most, wants them to experience a tenth of what Eddie has been going through since Buck took that jump the first time. He’s been in pain all this time, and you did nothing.
A little over a month ago, right after he’d just gotten Buck back for real, he would’ve snapped. He’s sure of it. But now, after biweekly therapy and having held Buck in his arms every night, he breathes through that nasty feeling of resentment, breathes through his nose. He’s clenching his jaw a bit too tight, but he manages to nod vaguely in thanks to Maddie’s words and zones out from everyone’s conversation.
He holds Chris a little closer and waits for the moment they can see Buck again.
***
The nurse that comes to collect him has no defense against Christopher’s plea to join Eddie.
“Can I see my papa, please? Just for a minute,” is all it takes for her to nod and lead them to the IMCU.
Eddie presses a kiss to Chris’ hairline after picking him up, and they share barely-there smiles in secret as they follow the nurse quietly. She slides the glass door open for them to step into Buck’s room and leaves them, promising a doctor will be with them shortly to talk with Eddie.
At least he thinks that’s what she says. As soon as he catches sight of Buck’s blue eyes blinking slowly at him, he runs to his side and lowers their son to the bed gently, quickly wrapping an arm around Buck as Chris does the same from the other side. Slight tremors are still wracking Buck’s body, but he smiles in their embrace.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck rasps through the oxygen mask tightly secured to his face, causing it to fog. Eddie shakes his head and lets go so he can properly adjust it over his partner’s face, then he sneaks a kiss on his birthmark. “Eddie, Chris, I didn’t–I didn’t mean to–”
“Shh, I know, vida,” Eddie soothes, and Christopher nods before curling against Buck’s chest.
There are no IV lines in his arms, Eddie’s brain supplies belatedly as he watches his partner holding their kid close. There’s a central line in his neck instead, and at least four different IV bags dripping steadily through it. He’s still too warm, but not alarmingly so, and Eddie breathes in deeply as they snuggle in the uncomfortable hospital bed, nuzzling against Buck’s damp hair.
He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach being apart from him, not even an inch and not for a long while, which is going to be a pain in the ass when they send someone to take him and Christopher out of the room.
“I’m okay, buddy, I really am,” Buck murmurs into Christopher’s hair. It gets their son to stop clinging to Buck quite so hard and just relax in his arms, so Eddie sighs and manages a smile.
This short time they have together, he’ll cherish it. It’ll have to do until Buck is discharged, and judging by the monitor readings, that’s not going to be as soon as any of them would like.
It’s late, and Eddie knows he should take Chris home, but the thought of leaving Buck alone makes him want to scream. He sees all different versions of the absolute worst case scenario they went through, even if he’s the only one who remembers it fully, and wants to take Buck home with him too immediately.
It’s an irrational thought, sure, but emotions aren’t supposed to be rational or to be rationalized. Sometimes thinking a stupid thing is okay, if it helps recognizing and feeling the emotion underneath. Frank has taught him that much.
And he’s relieved and happy, but still scared. He doesn’t want to let go of Buck, ever. Losing him is still one of his biggest, deepest fears. Talking about it in therapy constantly has helped him some, but everything is still so fresh, so raw. Buck turns his head, burrowing into his neck, and Eddie just wants to stay like this for another month, if he can.
The doctor, a young Asian man, comes inside without making a fuss about them huddling with Buck on the bed. He looks exhausted but smiles instead of scowling at them. He explains in very simple terms that Buck can’t, under no circumstances, ever take antidepressants of the SSRI variety, or he risks having another serotonin syndrome worse than the one he’s going through. Eddie nods and mostly focuses on his partner who has been swallowing and squirming a little too much in the few minutes the doctor has joined them.
Buck is looking greener by the second, and Eddie’s instincts kick in before the doctor’s– he reaches for the bin, removes the mask, and helps his partner sit upright just in time for him to throw up what looks like bile. Christopher moves to rub Buck’s back, and the doctor taps some buttons on the IV pumps.
Whatever he does, it helps Buck regain some color. An orderly comes to get the bin and replaces it with a clean one. After briefly checking his partner, the doctor leaves without kicking Eddie out, just making him promise to be out before seven.
It’s a little over two in the morning, so he watches Buck and Christopher sleep. He watches the monitor occasionally too, willing Buck’s BP to stabilize lower than 150/100 and the O2 stats to improve over the measly 93 percent it's showing. He gets some shuteye somewhere in between too, before his alarm goes off.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promises Buck, kissing his brow one last time before standing up. Buck presses closer for a moment, winding an arm around him, and Eddie closes his eyes as they lean their foreheads together.
“I think you’ve got more visitors outside.” Maddie texted him no one has left and asked him to check with Buck if he’d like some company. “Do you want to see them?”
It’s brief, but a panicked look crosses his partner’s face. The monitor is relentless and announces his tachycardia loudly in the room. Buck winces and swallows, and Eddie sits down beside him to take his hand.
“They’re not gonna get mad,” he promises. Perhaps a little hurt, but that’d be their problem. “I can tell them to come back later.”
Buck squeezes his hand, dropping his gaze. “No, it’s… it’s okay. I can see them.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows. “I know you can. But do you want to?”
“Yeah, I want to,” his partner is quick to reply, but the raspiness in his voice gives him away.
He bites back a retort (you did almost die, you know, you get to do whatever you want). He’s exhausted, sure, but he’s learned bluntness is not the way to go when Buck is like this.
“No one will expect you to talk now, Buck,” he says softly instead. It gets his partner’s eyes back on him, so Eddie leans in for one last kiss on Buck’s temple. “I could tell them I don’t want you to see them.”
It wouldn’t even be a lie. Alongside the resentment, he’s feeling overprotective. If he has to be the bad guy to keep Buck comfortable, then so be it.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” Buck sighs, and Eddie catches the moment the bit of energy he had after a few hours of rest runs out, watches his watery blue eyes blinking several times to remain open.
He collects Christopher from the bed, gently getting their kid to stop clinging to Buck’s hospital gown in his sleep.
He supposes that was as good a reply as any, but he still lingers for a minute.
“Eddie,” Buck murmurs, turning his head a little on the pillow to smile up at him. “I do want to see them. I’ll be okay.”
He nods, warmed and reassured by the fact Buck knows how he’s feeling too. They’re going to be okay, no matter what.
It’s been a long road to where they are, and there’s a longer road ahead, but Eddie wouldn’t change directions, not for anything in the world.
***
Buck dozes off for an indeterminate amount of time. When he wakes up, he begs the nurse to let him take a shower. It takes some convincing, and he has to leave the door half open, but she disconnects him from the IV pumps and gives him ten minutes to wash the sweat and puke off his body. There’s a plastic stool under the shower head, and Buck uses it, legs too weak to hold him up for the few minutes it takes him to get clean.
He’s back at overthinking things, which doesn’t help him get his strength back. Does he really want to talk with everyone? Or is he just back to doing what he thinks they want? He goes back to bed with that question swirling in his mind and falls into a fitful sleep.
The second time he wakes up without Eddie, he sits up with no small amount of effort, hands clumsy and shaky as he reaches for the bin on the floor to gag into it. He’s dry-heaving when he feels a familiar hand on his back, rubbing it gently.
“Breathe, son,” Bobby soothes, his touch warm and comforting. “You’re okay.”
Buck feels a rush of something at hearing the word son, a mix of shame and longing. He wonders what Bobby is truly thinking right then, sitting by his bed. He wonders if he’s thinking about what Buck told him in his letter. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he wonders.
He rubs his mouth after he manages to throw up some acid, and the burn up his throat hurts less than trying to understand what he wants to do. It’s the perfect opportunity to talk about his depression, but he doesn’t feel ready. Perhaps he’ll never be ready, and that wouldn’t be fair to anyone, including himself.
Bobby hands him a paper towel, his expression patient. It hits him with sudden clarity that Eddie was right. They’re really just here to keep him company, not to get the answers Buck has been denying them for weeks. But this is a good opportunity to clear the air, and the one thing he’s sure he doesn’t want is to let fear push him away from the family he’s fought so hard to keep.
A nurse comes, adjusting his medication after writing his vitals on a chart. She changes the mask for a nasal cannula, which is a lot more comfortable, and he thanks her absently.
“You’re very loved,” she comments with a smile. “Night shift said your friends and family have been outside for hours. I’m glad you’re awake so they can see you.”
You’re very loved. He really is. He’s just unsure of how much he deserves it and certain he will mess things up again soon enough because that’s what he does.
The silence feels heavy when the nurse leaves him and Bobby alone again.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, hating how his eyes are tearing up already. The monitor beeps angrily, so he pauses to breathe deeply to get his heart rate down. “About the note, about trying to– I know I’ve been stupid and a lot to deal with. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wasn’t planning on hurting myself, I swear. If you… if there’s anything you need to tell me, I can take it.”
“Buck, you’re not the one who needs to apologize,” Bobby says, straightening up in his chair. He reaches to squeeze Buck’s arm, hovering until Buck looks at him and nods. “I am. I’m so sorry, son. I’ve been unfair to you. Sometimes when I look at you, I swear you could be Junior, the son I lost to the fire I caused, and I can’t take it.”
Bobby’s voice cracks, and he has to stop to swallow thickly. Buck just stares, shock and disbelief freezing him where he’s lying in bed, but he sits up when tears start running down his Captain’s face.
“Bobby…” please don’t cry, not because of me. But there it is, the pain in Bobby’s eyes, and Buck almost looks away because it’s too much. Instead, he wipes harshly at his eyes and cries too, biting back a sob when his Captain squeezes his arm tighter.
“I looked at you, and I asked God why He put you in my path, when He knows I don’t deserve more second chances, He knows how much I loved being a father. But I think I got it all wrong, and He sent you to teach me how to be brave again. I just didn’t get the message until now. You needed me, and I was right there, but my own fear of losing you and my own insecurities kept me away. I won’t let that happen again, Buck. I love you, you’re like a son to me. You always will be, no matter what.”
It takes some serious effort, but he ignores how dizzy he is and pulls Bobby’s arm until the man gets up and Buck can put his arms around him, holding on as he cries and hides his face on Bobby's shoulder. It pulls at the IV he has on his neck, but he doesn’t care.
Bobby must notice because he sits on the bed, not breaking their hug, and gently maneuvers him closer to the IV pole until the sting on his neck stops.
“I’ll do better,” Bobby vows into his hair, and Buck’s breath stutters, tears slowing down enough that he can find his voice again.
“Me too.”
It’s impossible to know how long they stay like that, but it’s long enough that Buck gets sleepy again and panics for a moment that Bobby is going to leave when the Captain helps him back onto the pillows.
“You don’t need to do better, son. I’m so proud of you already. Get some rest, I’ll be right here.”
***
Next time he blinks back into consciousness, Bobby is still sitting in the chair by the bed, but the sun has moved outside. It’s probably noon, but just the thought of eating makes Buck feel nauseous again.
Then he realizes he thought about food because there’s a tray on the hospital’s table, some jello and juice and probably bland soup, none of which sound or smell appealing at all.
“Athena wants to see you,” Bobby tells him. “Looks like we can’t charm our way into getting the hospital staff to let two people in.”
“You don’t have Christopher’s puppy eyes,” Buck remarks quietly.
He misses him and Eddie already, but he hopes they’re both resting after the nightmare he made them live.
“I think you could give him a run for his money, kid,” Bobby jokes, and he looks as kind and content as Buck’s best memories of him, so he wonders if he’s dreaming all this up for a second or two. “So, it’s okay if we take turns?”
For what? Buck almost asks. To make sure I don’t hang myself with all these IV lines?
The intrusive thought is persistent, and so is the one that insists the real Bobby wouldn’t apologize or admit he was wrong. He shakes his head, ignoring both of those, and rubs his eyes after assuring Bobby it’s okay and watching him go.
“Hey now, leave those pretty eyes of yours be, baby,” Athena’s voice commands, her tone very motherly. It doesn’t help the itchy, dry feeling in his eyes, but he obeys and ducks his head.
He opens his mouth to apologize (for scratching at his eyes too hard or for almost involuntarily dying, he’s not sure, but probably both), but she’s already offering a full glass of water with a metallic straw to him, and realizing he’s parched makes him reach for it and drink instead.
She keeps it steady, because of course his hands are still trembling slightly. At least he’s not puking anymore, small mercies and all that.
“How are you feeling, Buckaroo?” she asks, sitting down and offering her hand, palm up, for him to take.
The beeping of his heart in the monitor gets slower, more steady, when Buck lets her hold his hand in both of hers as she gazes at him patiently, waiting for him to speak.
He thinks about it, tries not to reply automatically with something that might be a lie. Physically, he’s so sore it’s hard to decide which part of his body hurts the most. It’s probably his head, though the space between his lungs aches too. He doesn’t know if it’s his actual heart that’s hurting or just his metaphorical heart. He supposes he’ll find out when a doctor comes to check on him now that he’s awake.
Mentally, he feels a strange combination of terrible and elated. He’s inconveniencing all his loved ones, yet no one is berating him for anything. No one is blaming him for not realizing he was sick sooner, like they did after the embolism. They look relieved and happy to be there for him, and that along with the memory of having Eddie and Christopher here, not leaving him alone when he was at his weakest, it’s finally made him believe it.
They love him. They do, and they want him and need him around. The way his heart is thrumming with the knowledge is a good sort of pain, like the breathless feeling after running up the stairs of a building that’s on fire to save someone and getting to them just in the nick of time.
“I feel lucky to be alive,” he replies at length. “Lucky to have all of you with me. You can just lay it on me, if you have something to say about– you know. Me, lying to you and almost giving up?”
Athena smiles, though her bottom lip quivers a little and her eyes seem remorseful. Buck has a hundred words of comfort and apologies to offer, but she beats him to it. “Oh, Buckaroo. We’re the lucky ones, you’re still here with us. I’m sorry that I took your presence in our lives for granted. I promise you, I will never do that again. I know I said being Buck meant not giving up, but I think it also means you give and give and give until there’s nothing left.”
Oh. So she’s noticed that too. He squirms in discomfort and looks away, but Athena holds onto his hand.
“You told me you were okay,” she reminds him.
Buck braces for a blow, for accusations and demands. He owes it to her, after what she went through with May, and after Buck made her read his own suicide note.
“You’re not a good liar, baby. I chose to ignore the real answer, that was on me,” she says instead, making Buck’s head snap back to look at her. “I thought it was a boundary I needed to respect, that you were asking for space to deal with it on your own. I thought you were talking with Eddie, with your therapist, I thought–” her voice breaks, and Buck is quick to put his free hand on top of hers.
“Athena, even if you pushed me to tell the truth, I don’t think… I wasn’t in a place where I could accept help.” Admitting it leaves a sour taste on his tongue. “Please, don’t cry.”
I’m not worth it. He doesn’t say it out loud, yet Athena somehow hears him.
She reaches to cup his face very slowly, giving him time to turn his head if he wanted to. “Listen to me, boy. I love you, every version of you, even the dumbass I first met that wanted to leave a young girl to die because she’d tried to kill her baby. I love you now, when you can’t see how very worthy of all the love in the world you are. And I will love you tomorrow and every day after, no matter how you’re feeling, no matter what you do.”
Her thumbs wipe the tears falling from his eyes tenderly, and breathing through his pain and her comfort feels like something precious and brand new. He remembers many times he laid in hospital beds with his mother in the room, enraged that he was wasting her time again, and how convinced that made him that she’d be better off if he dropped dead.
But Athena is crying for him, and it’s not because she’s angry. She’s glad he’s still alive and promising him she’s there with him for the long haul.
“I love you too, Athena. Thank you,” he stutters. It feels like too little to offer back, but she beams at him.
“No, Buckaroo. Thank you.”
***
Athena stays with him as he’s eating, making him stop just before he makes himself sick by forcing himself to finish everything.
“I just want to get out of here,” he complains miserably, fighting the urge to throw up.
“Shh, I know you do, baby,” Athena coos, rearranging his pillows and pressing a button so the bed is a little higher. “You’ll be out of here in no time, you’ll see.”
He wants to go home, home to Eddie and Chris. He wants to talk with his therapist about how much of a fuck-up he feels over something he really couldn’t have predicted or controlled.
Most of all, he wants to get better, but it’s hard to stop his mind from playing tricks on him.
You did this on purpose, a voice in his head insists, and he really tries to ignore it, but he still grimaces. It feels like it’s true. Athena notices and rubs his arm, distracting him with a story from her work. It works, and eventually, her voice lulls him to sleep.
***
When he comes to, Maddie is occupying the chair by his bed, and he feels like an ass when a pang of disappointment goes through him.
He really wants to see Eddie. But it’s selfish, and he’s probably having trouble getting someone to look after Christopher. Carla went on vacation, and Pepa took Isabel to visit their family in El Paso.
“Hey, little brother,” she greets him with a smile, but Buck can see the sheen of dry tears on her face.
She's running a hand through his hair, something she hasn't done in years, not since the first time she left him, before she left the first time with Doug.
You love the attention. You can’t get enough of it. The voice is right, and he hates that.
“Hey,” he rasps. “I’m really sorry for worrying you. I’m okay.”
Something in her eyes tells him she doesn’t buy it. He waits with bated breath, but his sister doesn’t push him, just shakes her head and slowly retracts her hand.
“I’m your big sister. It’s my job to worry.”
***
“Thank you for being here,” Buck says.
He’s amazed Eddie can visit so often. No one else can. He probably had to disclose Buck isn’t exactly well equipped to deal with anything on his own. He sees Christopher once a day and just for a few minutes, but he’s grateful. He doesn’t think he’d be able to keep going without his partner’s constant presence there, to remind him he hasn’t been dreaming it all up and that he does get to call Eddie his now.
It’s his fourth day in the IMCU. He might be moved to the general ward tomorrow or the day after. It’ll be easier for everyone to visit him for longer, instead of the few minutes they’ve been allowed after the first day.
“Here is where I want to be,” Eddie reassures him. “With you. Even if it’s a hospital, and we’ve both been in one too much.”
Buck entwines their fingers together and sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Eddie squeezes his hand, holding his gaze. “You’re pushing yourself a lot, Buck.”
He can tell Eddie is worried, and he’s so grateful he’s still letting him do what he needs. He ran out of steam fast after talking with Bobby and Athena, but he still wants to keep going. He owes it to his sister and friends. They’ve been patient with him, and it won’t get any easier by putting it off.
“Could you call Dr. Copeland?” he asks. “I don’t know if she could schedule an appointment with me like this, but… I want to try.”
His ears feel hot when Eddie gives him a small, proud smile.
“I think we can make that happen.”
***
He’s having his first solid meal, a sad chicken leg with some equally bland rice on the side, when Maddie comes in. She chuckles at the face he’s making and arches an eyebrow at him.
“If you want to get out of here anytime soon, you should eat.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, picking the fork back up.
The real problem is the nausea still sticking to the back of his throat, not how the food looks, and the added nerves of knowing this is it. His chance to talk things through with his sister. Out of everyone, this is the conversation he’s been dreading the most. Even the faraway possibility of disappointing Maddie beyond repair leaves him breathless.
He ignores the beeping of the monitor as his heart rate speeds up and gives up on the food for the moment. He can’t manage talking and trying to eat at the same time, which reminds him he’s pathetic and useless if can’t even manage that little. The urge to follow that negative train of thought is almost overwhelming, but he swallows and reaches for Maddie’s hand instead.
She smiles at him, fond and patient. She entwines their fingers and holds on tight, waiting for him to speak.
“I’m sorry, Maddie,” he rasps. “I never meant–I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted the pain to stop.”
“I’m sorry too,” she laughs nervously, but it came out more like a sob. “I’m so sorry, Evan. I know how you felt–how you’ve been feeling. I’ve been there. I never told you, but when I had PPD, I tried–” she wipes her face with her free hand, and Buck sucks in a breath, knowing what she’s about to say. “I never told you. If I had, maybe… maybe we could’ve talked about this sooner.”
He looks down at their fingers. He feels like he’s just been soaked in ice cold water. He can hardly feel the warmth of Maddie’s touch, just a faint feeling of pressure on his hand.
“What did you do?” he hears himself asking. “I was going to jump off a ravine where no one could reach me in time.”
Maddie cries for a moment before admitting, “I stopped at a beach, and I was going to let the current take me.”
Buck nods in acknowledgement. That’s a solid plan, but complimenting it probably won’t help Maddie feel better.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Please say something, Evan.”
He can’t help but scoff a little. He’s more than aware that the only reason she’s telling him at all is his own unfulfilled suicide, and he hates that. He’s spent years forcing himself not to get angry at the people he loves, pushing himself to forgive and forget, but he doesn't have that kind of strength anymore.
“I’m not a kid anymore, Maddie,” he points out, looking up with his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve told you before. We’re supposed to be a team. I thought we were.”
It’s like remembering her keeping Daniel’s existence from him for twenty-nine years all over again. But finding out his sister had tried to kill herself as well is harder than realizing she’d chosen their parents over him.
But of course it tracks. Leaving is what she does. She’d left back then, to get herself help. She’d never needed Buck to do anything for her, why trust him with something so big when she could just up and leave and not deal with him anymore?
“We are a team! We are,” she assured him urgently enough to pull him from his thoughts. “We’ve just been bad at being honest. I think we’ve been too focused on the other’s reaction, instead of opening up and trusting we’ll be there for each other. I know that I started it, that I’ve said some things that hurt you when you told me how you felt,” she half-laughs, half-sobs again. “Like when you told me your life was being a firefighter, and I just brushed it off. I’m so sorry, Evan. I promise I won’t do that again.”
She pulls her hand away only enough to raise her finger so they could pinky swear.
It takes him a moment to meet her with his own pinky, once he realizes she’s not asking him to do anything in return. This is a promise she’s making to him, and he will take it as he tries to figure out how he really feels now that he’s allowing himself to actually react to things instead of just accepting everything out of fear people would stop caring about him if he didn’t.
"Thank you for telling me," he whispers some time later. "I'm happy you're still here, Maddie."
He still can't quite wrap his head around it. He's scared and hurt and angry at both Maddie and himself, but mostly at himself. Knowing what he's feeling is probably just a small part of what he would've put everyone through if he'd taken that jump sweeps most of the energy right out of him. He winces as he tries to find a new position to stay awake for a bit longer.
Maddie is already up and pushing the buttons of his bed to help him lie down. She fluffs his pillow up gently and kisses his forehead before sitting back down on the chair by his side.
"Thank you. I'm happy you're still here too, Buck. Sleep, I'll be right here."
Notes:
me: yeah just one more chapter
-8k words later-
me: 🤡
Chapter 10
Notes:
sorry it took me forever to finish it. I'm an overthinker so I kept overthinking every scene I had planned for the end. I decided this is as good as it's gonna get, and my friend Daze was amazing in cheering me up and proofreading it for me.
thank you to everyone who left kudos and commented. I'm awful at replying to comments due to bad social anxiety/AuDHD but I really appreciate it and it makes my day to get the daily email with the kudos from my stories and every comment I receive as well.
there's a bit of smut on this chapter. you can skip it if that's not your cup of tea. let me know if you need me to mark it somehow to make that easier for you.
on to the happy ending! hope you like it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck is started on Trazodone before being discharged to monitor for major side effects. When nothing bad happens, and he’s actually able to get some sleep after taking it at night, he breathes a sigh of relief. He can tell Eddie does too, and so does the rest of the 118. It’s a big step in the right direction for him, and while he still has these horrible thoughts and thinks death is the best solution to each and every problem he’s causing for everyone, getting some regular rest helps him feel more human again.
First thing on the agenda after spending a week in the hospital is, unsurprisingly, therapy.
His therapist suggests they have a joint appointment with Eddie and his own therapist, to help them both elaborate what they’re feeling after Buck’s near-death experience. She’s not calling it couples therapy, but he’s pretty sure that’s what it is and he’s okay with it. In order not to lose Eddie, he’ll take all the help he can get.
Frank and Dr. Copeland– who insists he calls her Veronica, and maybe it’s the pettiness in him, but he won’t do it unless she agrees to call him Buck– are already there when Eddie and him arrive.
He doesn’t think he could stomach it if Eddie wasn’t sitting so close to him their sides are brushing. Before he can talk himself out of it, he reaches for his partner’s hand and tries to remember it’s okay to say what he needs to.
He’s not responsible for how people feel, he’s only beginning to understand that, but he still feels like he’d rather swallow his own tongue than tell Eddie something that might hurt him.
“I’m scared this is all it’s going to be,” he admits, making himself look at Eddie even as he struggles to get the words through the lump in his throat. “That I won’t ever get better, that it won’t be months of this, but years, and I don’t– I don’t want that for you, for us. I’m trying to get better, and I know it’s too soon to tell what’s going to happen, but I need– I need to know you’ll leave if you don’t love me anymore. I need to know you won’t sacrifice your own happiness for me.”
Eddie looks like he just sucker punched him, but he entwines their fingers and squeezes his hand instead of letting go, so Buck tries not to panic. His eyes are welling up almost as much as his own are.
“I love you, even now– especially now, when you can’t love yourself,” his boyfriend says. “A month, a year, ten years from now– I’m still going to love you, no matter what.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I asked. What if I can’t get back to work, what if I’m just a burden to you? What if I can never be the guy you fell in love with again?”
It’s been eating at him, realizing the cheerful, goofy persona that skipped and twirled when excited, talked a mile a minute about random things and smiled wide and unrepentant and made mistakes over and over but never gave up is the one Eddie fell for, not this shell he’s become after fighting his demons on his own and almost losing, just like that day in the factory fire.
He would’ve died without his friends pulling him out. He would be dead now, if it wasn’t for Eddie and Christopher. His strength has run out, and he’s not sure he will ever get it back.
“I know you don’t feel like yourself,” Eddie says carefully. “But you’re still you, Buck. Of course I miss seeing you happy, but I hate thinking most of those times were just you faking it to keep anyone from worrying.”
“If I may,” Frank interjects. “You two share a distinctive trait. You always put other people first, it’s one of the things that makes you so good at your job. I think what Buck is asking here is broader than what you’re hearing, Eddie. You’re hearing he wants a promise of eternal love, but he’s asking you to prioritize yourself if it comes down to him and your own mental health.”
“Being the caretaker can rapidly lead to fatigue and burnout if you’re not taking care of your own needs, Mr. Diaz,” Dr. Copeland adds. “Evan is worried you’re carrying too much weight on your shoulders because of him. Like Frank said, he’s looking for reassurance that you’ll be able to fight for yourself and not just for him, if that becomes necessary.”
“I’d rather carry the world on my shoulders than lose you again,” Eddie states so genuinely that it breaks his heart with the amount of love he holds for this impossible, wonderful man.
He’s not sure how to express that he doesn't want Eddie to be so selfless and self-sacrificing, not when it comes to their relationship. He’ll hate himself even more than he already does if he ever makes the life of the man he loves more than anything an empty existence filled with misery. He doesn’t want their love story to go like that.
“I want you both to picture and answer this,” Frank tries again. “You’re at work. There’s a house on fire with a single person inside. You know for certain that if you go in, you’ll die but that you’ll save that person. What do you do? Do you go in to save them?”
“I go in,” Buck replies, barely hesitating.
He’s been talking with his therapist enough to realize that’s not the right answer, but what’s the point of all this if he’s not honest? He’ll end up jumping, if he allows himself to keep lying.
“Me too,” Eddie agrees. They share a look, none of them surprised by the other’s answer. “When you’re in the moment, you’re not really thinking about what will happen afterwards. You’re just focused on your job, on doing everything you can to save them.”
“But why is it that a stranger's life matters more than yours?” Dr. Copeland asks. “In a scenario where you’re basically picking between your own life and someone else’s, why is it so easy for you to disregard your own?
“What is so wrong about choosing yourselves first, knowing you did absolutely everything you could to save that person? No one is ever asking anyone to make the ultimate sacrifice, no matter what job we’re considering.”
“You don’t need to become heroes to be good enough,” Frank remarks. “This is the root of the issues we’ve been working through with you separately and what we’ll keep working on. For now, let’s rephrase the question. Do you go in to save that person, knowing you’ll make your significant other and child go through immense grief? Think about each other and Christopher. Do you go in?”
Buck instantly thinks about the well. Those terribly long minutes in which he didn’t know whether Eddie was dead or alive, but everyone acted like he was gone already, when Buck was the only one willing to keep digging and desperately trying to get him out.
He thinks about Eddie getting shot by the sniper, and how he broke down and cried when he told Christopher about it, when he didn’t know whether his best friend would make it or not.
He thinks about living with that excruciating pain in his chest, and watching Christopher have to breathe and exist with that ever-present ache too, that gap where Eddie lived in their hearts.
Would Eddie and Christopher miss him just as much? It’s hard to believe that, when he’s sure they’d be better off without him. They could still be happy if Eddie found someone new to love, someone easier to care for, someone who had their life together and wasn’t falling apart constantly.
“I’m scared of always being this exhausting and selfish,” he says instead of answering directly. He turns to look at Eddie again, begging him to understand. “You deserve so much better, someone who can suck it up like everyone else instead of making a big deal out of their problems.”
“You’re repeating what I said to you in the grocery store,” Eddie points out, pale and shaky as he pulls away slightly. “Almost word for word.”
“You were right,” he rasps.
“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie retorts, raising their joined hands to his cheek, and cupping Buck’s other cheek with his free hand. “If I could go back in time to kiss you and admit right then and there I couldn’t function without you instead of lashing out at you, I would.”
There’s a special vehemence behind Eddie’s words. Something heavy hangs in the air around them, and Buck gets goosebumps from it.
“I’ve always been great at being cutthroat. When I’m angry, I shoot where I know it’ll hurt the most. I was really angry back then, enough to cut you so deep you’re still bleeding from it, and I’m so sorry.
“I didn’t mean a word of it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Evan, and I’ll tell you this every day for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”
What Eddie said to him back then has defined so much of what he believes about himself that he can only blink and stare at his boyfriend as he tries to process his partner doesn’t actually think that about him.
They had only acknowledged what happened in the grocery store indirectly, one time in his kitchen. Buck insisted Eddie had almost taken a swing at him and that he could take him while Eddie just smirked and stared at him. The sexual tension between them that night had driven him crazy, but he convinced himself he imagined all that when Eddie rejected him.
“I don’t go in,” Eddie says at length, turning to look at Frank briefly. “You and Christopher will always be my priority, Buck. I know our job makes it hard to prioritize our own life, but you– I will always put you first.”
It’s the right answer for their therapists, but not for Buck. He looks down at their joined hands, numbness taking hold of him as he confirms what he already feared; that Eddie will stay by his side, no matter what, even if he’s not happy or in love with him anymore.
It’ll be up to him to leave, if things don’t look up, if he ends up ruining Eddie and Christopher’s lives just like he’s worried he will.
“Evan?” Dr. Copeland prompts.
He sighs. A part of him wants to go back to lying through his teeth. He knows what the right answer is.
He also knows now that he might end up having to kill himself if he can’t make Eddie happy.
“I go in,” he replies. “The person inside deserves to live–”
“And you don’t?” Eddie interjects, upset.
“-- and you deserve a chance to find out you’d be better off without me,” he finishes.
He expects Eddie to pull away and stare at him in frustration. He keeps his head down, almost flinching when his partner tilts his chin up.
“I already know what my life would be like without you,” Eddie states, his thumb brushing his birthmark so tenderly he leans into it. “Every day would be a curse, a reminder I couldn’t save you. No one could ever replace you in our lives. I’d have to learn how to exist without seeing your eyes, without watching you smile, without hearing your voice.
“I’d keep going for our son, but I’d hardly call that living. You can only exist with that kind of void in your soul, not live.”
He thinks about the well again, about the sniper. He can only trust Eddie knows what he’s choosing, and hope he can be good enough to be worthy of his love soon.
He’s not surprised to hear his boyfriend has high-functioning depression and has been refusing to take medication for years. Eddie looks almost betrayed when his therapist asks Buck to convince him to see a psychiatrist, and he’s quick to ask for a list of references so his boyfriend doesn’t end up with a shitty doctor that barely looks his way.
“Do you ever think about it?” he asks quietly, once they’re in Eddie’s truck.
His partner turns to him slightly as he’s turning the engine on. For a second, Buck thinks he’ll need to elaborate, but Eddie nods and pauses instead of driving out of the parking lot.
“Not recently, but yeah. I promised Christopher I wouldn’t leave him again, so I try not to– I think the last time was that day he called you, when I trashed my room. I used to think about it a lot when I was a teenager and when I came back from Afghanistan, that’s why I’ve never owned a gun.”
Knowing Eddie has contemplated suicide makes his heart ache badly enough to make his breath stutter. Once they reach the first red light, he leans in to kiss him softly.
“We are two of a kind, aren't we?” he jokes, reaching to entwine their fingers.
Eddie smiles and squeezes his hand. “We really are.”
***
The fridge is filled with homecooked meals once he's back home. Isabel brought all of Eddie’s favorite foods, and then Bobby made sure the kitchen was properly stashed with hearty meals for them to reheat and have as a family.
Sticking to a routine is important, and they spend a couple of hours working on Christopher’s homework when he’s back from school. Then they go out for a walk or a ride or go get groceries.
They end up making the special Diaz family recipe for dinner once all the already made food finally runs out. The empanadas turn out almost as delicious as Isabel makes them, and Christopher teases Eddie when a few he made end up a little toasty.
Buck makes sure to take some pictures when the kid asks for them, and soon the fridge is filled with new photos of them and the 118.
The day in which Eddie will have to come back to work is fast approaching, and he can tell his boyfriend is worried sick about leaving him alone. He overhears Eddie on the phone more than once, asking Maddie and Carla to stop by the house frequently when he’s on shift, and Buck can’t blame him.
His therapist cleared him to be left unsupervised for a few hours, as long as he doesn’t miss individual and group therapy and checks in with Eddie and his sister every few hours. He doesn’t have a detailed plan anymore, but the dark thoughts are still lurking.
Whenever he feels himself spiraling, he tries to reach out to his partner, Bobby or Athena. Sometimes his phone rings with a call from Hen, Maddie or Chim just when he needs to be reminded his sister and friends miss him, and it’s easier to push through the feeling of inadequacy and guilt swirling in his gut.
***
The fact he’s clumsy has never been a secret. Maddie is worried when he asks her to come with him to an ice skating rink. She thinks it’s an excuse to hurt himself, and with the amount of times he ends up flat on his ass or on his knees and bruised all over, he can’t really complain that’s where her mind goes.
Warming up before putting on the ice skates and the physical exertion of trying to remain on his feet on the ice reminds him exercise has always been a good escape for him. He doesn’t know why he stopped doing it.
Soon, he asks Bobby to come with him too, since he’s the best at this, and renews his gym subscription so he can resume training, even if thinking about whether he’ll be able to go back to work or not makes him sick.
He gets sufficiently distracted staring at his boyfriend working out beside him, and he tries to tell himself he has time to get better when Eddie is not around to keep him from feeling despondent.
“I’m planning to bring Christopher here for his birthday,” he explains as his sister helps him up for the third time in a row. “I really need the practice if I don’t want to spend all the time on the floor.”
“That’s a great idea, Buck. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
She’s graceful and steady on her feet, and he almost forgets things are still a bit awkward between them after she admitted she tried to commit suicide last year.
Having fun together helps him to let go of his anger and understand his sister was just trying to protect him, not push him aside.
***
It’s Hen’s day off, so she ends up on Buck duty, as he's been calling it in his head.
They go out for a run. He’s been doing that with Eddie two or three times a week besides going to the gym together, and getting back in shape has been a source of comfort now that he’s not spending every minute of the day with his boyfriend.
“Okay, time off,” she pants after an hour, and he laughs but leads her to a park where they can cool off under some trees.
It’s been almost two months since he gave everyone the letters he wrote. He hasn’t had the strength to talk about it with Hen yet, and it hits him as she’s telling him about Karen’s latest project in her lab that he owes it to her to open up the conversation.
“I’m sorry, Hen,” he says suddenly, leaning on his elbows as he straightens up to look at her. “I’m sorry I almost– I kept hiding how I was feeling while desperately needing someone to see me, but I thought I couldn’t ask for more out of you. I thought I'd screwed everything up, and you were actually sick of me.”
“Oh, Buckaroo,” she’s quick to leave her water bottle aside to hug him. “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. I was so busy with med school and work and everything else, I never paused to check on you, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I love you like a little brother, you’re one of the most important people in my life. I promise I won’t let you forget it, not again.”
He ducks his head, stupidly pleased to hear Hen saying he’s important to her, even if a big part of him can’t believe her. She’s probably just saying it so he doesn’t go back home and cut his wrists in the bathtub, but it’s still nice to hear.
“So you’re not– you’re not mad,” he says with a small frown, after they break apart. “And you weren’t mad at me before either?”
“No, Buck. I was never mad. Just promise me you’ll tell someone if you start having those thoughts again, okay?”
He nods, and they resume their easy conversation. He doesn’t think he’s lying if he doesn’t clarify those thoughts are still in his mind, just far less insistent with the antidepressant he’s taking finally doing its job.
Being sprawled on the grass like they don't have a care in the world almost makes him feel normal again.
He's been feeling nostalgic about the past a lot. He wishes he could go back to the time when no one knew what he was going through. Being constantly perceived now is exhausting, and try as he might, he can't shake the guilt off. The heavy awareness of being a burden.
But things are different now. Some of them in a good, incredible way. His relationship with Eddie keeps surprising him everyday, and Christopher keeps calling him Papa and even sometimes Dad just to mess with them, laughing when they can't figure out who he's talking to.
But other upcoming changes won't be so easy to get used to, like Hen leaving the 118.
"I'm going to miss you a lot," he admits softly. "When you become a doctor."
Hen turns her head to look at him, so he stops their silly game of giving shapes to the clouds and does the same.
"I'm not going anywhere, Buck," she says. "I dropped out of med school. I'm staying in the 118."
"What? But– but it was your dream. What happened?"
"Your letter made me think about how I was neglecting everyone I love just so I could get that degree," she pauses, reaching to squeeze his forearm when he goes still at the mention of his suicide note. "I want to have time to be with my family. Karen, Denny, Athena, you– everyone in the 118, you are more important than any stranger I could help by being a doctor."
It takes him a long moment to swallow through the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you doubt yourself, Hen."
"Buck, listen to me. You helped me remember what's important. And I'm still so sorry I didn't see how much you were struggling. Hell, I even missed how exhausted Karen was these last couple of years. Besides, I don't want to spend every holiday and waking moment during the next four years away from home! That's a nightmare if I ever heard one."
**
Maddie picks him up so he can spend the day with Chim and Jee the next time Eddie is on shift while she's at work as well. The hours go by fast chasing his niece around, always a few seconds too late to stop her latest mischief.
"Maddie is going to kill me," Chim complains as he unsuccessfully tries to scrub one of the walls of the living room clean.
In retrospect, giving Jee a box of crayons while they were eating lunch wasn't the greatest idea.
"We can paint over it," he suggests. "I have some white paint in my apartment."
He hasn't been back in his loft in ages, and he does need to pack the few things he owns and stop paying rent for an apartment he never uses anymore.
"Your apartment? I thought you moved in with Eddie," Chimney sighs when Buck shrugs. "Let me guess. You've been putting it off, not actually packing your stuff and officially moving in."
"Yeah, I just– it wasn't in our list of priorities."
He hasn't had the nerve to ask Eddie to help him out with yet another thing, and each time he tries, he ends up chickening out when it becomes apparent asking that is the equivalent of forcing his partner to deal with Buck's mess permanently.
Chimney offers to help him get his things, already knowing where he can get boxes and offering his next day off to do it in exchange for Buck hiding Jee's work of art in their living room.
Buck agrees after saying he needs to check with Eddie, and the look Chim gives him is patient. He tries to pretend he's not overthinking moving out of his apartment, but he keeps spacing out and asking his friend to repeat himself when they talk.
After they manage to get Jee-Yun to take a nap, they sit on the couch and Chim clears his throat to get Buck's attention.
"I promise to lay off on the jokes. I never realized you weren't laughing along with us, Buck, but I should have. Looking back, I feel like an ass.
"I already lost a brother. I'm not ready to lose another. I'm sorry for not checking on you. And I'm sorry I hit you. I never thought I could do something like that, but I won't give any excuses. I just want you to know you didn't deserve it."
Buck's breath hitches. He remembers writing that he did deserve the punch in his letter to Chimney.
“It's okay. I get it.”
"No, it's not. You were someone I blamed for losing Maddie, but it wasn't your fault. And I won't ever do anything like that again."
He smiles slightly, a knot he hadn't realized was keeping pressure around his heart loosening when he realizes Chimney means it, and he doesn't have to worry about Maddie being in danger if his friend ever loses his temper again.
A part of him feels lighter too. He already knew from therapy how much being punched and having his friends acting like nothing happened affected him deeply.
Eddie had been there, telling him ice went on the eye and keeping him company, but he still felt like he'd only made things worse after Maddie left and he deserved the pain.
But maybe he actually didn't, and he was just the person in front of Chim when he was at his worst.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you , Buck. Knowing Maddie is always going to have you on her side means a lot. You're the best brother-in-law a guy could ask for.”
**
Buck wakes up around midmorning to Eddie looking at him. They went back to sleep after dropping Christopher at school. The way they're tangled in each other has become comfortably familiar, and one of his favorite things in the world.
"Were you watching me sleep?" he taunts with a lopsided smile. “Creep.”
"You were drooling a little. It was very unsexy," Eddie teases back, wiping the trail of saliva with his thumb and leaning in for a kiss.
Their lips meet in the middle, and Buck closes his eyes to enjoy how their mouths slot together, gliding over one another. After Eddie gives a small nip on his bottom lip, he parts his lips and the contact becomes deep and urgent, as if kissing each other took precedence over everything else.
They have made out like teenagers a lot, getting to know each other in the new relationship they share slowly, but this feels different. Every touch is electric, and there's nothing cautious in the way Eddie's hand rests on his ribcage, keeping him pressed close to his body as Buck runs his hand through Eddie's hair.
"Don't want to wait anymore?" he pants through a smirk.
He's been stroking Eddie's abs and curling his fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants, so he's more than aware he's not the only one excited to finally take the last step in their relationship.
"No," Eddie answers, his eyes dark as they drink in every inch of Buck's face, gripping his chin to keep him close. "We've waited enough."
Gravitating towards each other is easier than breathing, and soon the only thing he's aware of is how every kiss is better than the last and how Eddie's hand keeps traveling lower, until it slips under his shorts and palms his ass to push their groins together.
After grinding their hips while trying to suck the air out of each other's lungs, he rolls on his back, pulling his partner on top of him with his arms firmly wrapped around his waist.
They chuckle as they fumble with their clothes, getting them off and tossing them to the floor. He's absurdly happy that they get to be like this after everything they've been through, that it's fun and exciting and not forced and stilted.
The way Eddie stares at him sprawled beneath him has more heat pooling in his belly. He caresses Buck's left leg, kisses his shin and his way up to his thigh, and he shivers and whimpers into the kiss they share as his boyfriend settles between his spread legs.
As much as he used to sleep around, he can say for certain he has never been touched so reverently.
He knows this is Eddie's first time with a man because they've talked about it, about how coming out when his partner lived in Texas was out of the question, but he wouldn't know it with the assertive way his boyfriend's hands and mouth are all over him as if they've been doing this all along.
It's a good thing they have the house to themselves. He can't suppress the loud moans he makes when Eddie decides he wants to learn how sucking him off feels like, at the same time he stretches Buck open.
He thrashes as jolts of pleasure travel up his spine, wondering if his boyfriend is planning on sending him over the edge before the main act even starts. It's been so long since the last time he had sex, he feels like he's about to come with each swirl of Eddie's tongue around him and each clever brush of his fingers in him.
The blush on his face and chest deepens when the speed and amount of lube Eddie is using to finger him starts creating the most obscene, wet noises, and he tosses his head back with a laugh at catching the content look in his partner's eyes, mouth still full of cock.
“Eds, oh . I'm– I'm going to–” a warning is the least he can offer, though his thighs close tighter around his partner when he listens, letting go of him with a wet pop and his fingers still inside of him. “Fuck, just get in me.”
“You sure?” Eddie asks, leaning down to kiss him as he nods.
He bites down on his bottom lip when his partner finally withdraws his fingers, finally snapping as he resolves that no, he can't wait any longer. He reaches for the bottle of lube to wrap a slick hand around Eddie, gently coaxing his boyfriend to sit as he jerks him off deftly.
Climbing on his lap and lining him up so he can take him in feels surreal. He's half certain he's about to wake from the best wet dream he's ever had when Eddie grabs his hips and pushes him the rest of the way down his cock with a groan, head tilted up so they kiss messily and lean their foreheads together.
“ Mierda . You're so tight, Buck,” Eddie grunts. “You feel so good around me.”
His lips curl in a crooked, naughty smile as he clenches more around his lover on purpose and gets a moan from him as reward.
The burn and fullness is almost too much for a moment, and he breathes heavily against his partner's mouth, legs tightening around his middle. The feeling of their skin flushed together as they're entwined so closely is intoxicating, and soon he adjusts enough to be able to grind his hips, getting Eddie's cock to slide in and out of him just enough to send sparks of pleasant heat through his nerves.
Eddie moves his hips up, keeping a palm spread on the small of his back and the other firmly gripping his hip bone, setting a pace Buck follows naturally until the way he's bouncing up and down his boyfriend's cock feels slightly insufficient and their moans turn more desperate.
Between one blink and the next, he ends up on his back again. He laughs at being manhandled so effortlessly, knees on his partner's shoulders as Eddie slides back home and speeds up, ramming into his prostate relentlessly, knocking short, rhythmic moans out of him.
The position allows his boyfriend to stroke his cock that had been twitching but not getting enough friction between their bodies. It's exactly what he needs to arch his back and trip over the edge, spilling all over his abdomen and chest with an awed, long moan. He feels himself clenching even tighter around his partner, so much Eddie is only able to thrust a few more times before coming too, hot and deep inside of him.
He lets out a shocked, breathless sound and digs blunt fingernails into Eddie's back as his boyfriend bites down on his neck, leaving what will be an impressive mark right over his pulse point to muffle loud groans, hips rocking unevenly to fill Buck up.
His mind is blissfully quiet as they come down from the high, kissing lazily and refusing to pull away from each other.
“Te amo, mi vida,” Eddie murmurs, and the soft look he's giving him somehow feels more intimate than the way they're still joined.
He untangles his fingers from Eddie's hair and grins, gently brushing a few sweaty locks off his forehead.
“I love you too, baby.”
**
He's not expecting things to magically be perfect after they spend most of the day exploring each other's bodies and sex becomes a regular need.
Eddie still wakes up some nights, drenched in cold sweat and trembling, and he has his own set of nightmares that play in his head at least twice a week. But they're there to comfort one another, always able to remember they're not alone.
He still has ups and downs. He has mornings in which he can only stay in bed, and others in which he's somehow strong enough to get up, go to therapy, exercise, cook and spend time with his friends and family without feeling like the weight of their expectations is about to crush him or like he's ruining everyone's lives by sticking around.
He has even worse days where he still doubts everything, where he wonders what the fuck he's doing burdening the love of his life with emotions that are so heavy they could bury them both under their weight.
“Do you ever regret it– calling me that day?”
Eddie never falters in reassuring him and reminding him he regrets a lot, but not that.
“No. I regret telling you you're exhausting, because you're not. I regret telling you you're not expendable and then not proving it to you.”
“But I am. You could find someone better–”
“There's no one better for me than you. You are it for me, Evan . I regret trying to leave you and the 118. I regret pretending I didn't love you like you loved me. But saving you? No, I'll never regret that. I'll always be grateful I got a second chance with you.”
It's not perfect, but it's great. Slowly, with his boyfriend beside him and working hard on himself in therapy, he starts feeling hopeful instead of hopeless. He's able to smile and joke without it feeling like a mask he's hiding behind, and although the ideas about dying never leave him, he gets better at letting those intrusive thoughts come and go instead of fixating on them.
He surprises himself by not falling right back into the pit of self-hatred, the first time Eddie's mother calls him and his boyfriend has a panic attack after answering vaguely every pointed question she throws his way.
He's never particularly liked Eddie's parents, but it's only at that moment that he learns why he had such a bad feeling about them. Helena lectures her son about doing what's right and reminds him he needs to find a new mother for Christopher, tells him not to disappoint them again.
Eddie shakes and flinches like he's just been hit. He gives her an excuse and ends the call abruptly, so Buck knows he didn't imagine the disapproval in her voice.
“What's going on?” he asks softly, gently grabbing the phone from his partner's hand to leave it on the coffee table. “Talk to me, baby.”
“My parents, they can't know– they can't know about us. They'll break you, just like they broke me. I can't– can't let them hurt you.”
Eddie is curled up against the arm of the couch, wheezing for air as he paws at his own chest. Buck kneels in front of him and wraps his arms around him, gently starting to rock them back and forth in an attempt to calm his boyfriend down.
“Okay. It's okay, Eds. We don't have to deal with them now, or ever if you don't want to. Just breathe with me, okay? Breathe with me.”
He starts counting up and down in fours when just breathing slowly and deeply doesn't work, holding Eddie's hand over his chest so he can follow him like he remembered his partner did when it was Buck having an anxiety attack in his truck.
He sighs in relief when it finally works, and his boyfriend's face regains some color even if his eyes still look haunted as he straightens up so they can look at each other.
“You're not upset I couldn't tell them about us?”
“No. You're not the only one with shitty parents, remember? Whatever we need to do to deal with them, we'll do it together.”
That gets Eddie slumping against him, exhausted but calm, so he takes it as a small win.
**
Eddie takes him to see Dr. Copeland and his psychiatrist three months after the day he admitted what he planned, what he almost did.
His partner waits outside while they evaluate whether he's stable enough to resume the only part of his old life that he misses; being a firefighter is dangerous to everyone if you're suicidal, not only to yourself, so he tries to go in with no expectations of getting cleared for duty.
He's already decided to apply to work on Dispatch or some other kind of desk job so the financial responsibility isn't all on his boyfriend, if he's told no.
They've been talking about looking for a new house, conveniently not mentioning they can't get a loan for it with just one income, joking that they really need a place where they don't share a wall with their son so they don't end up traumatizing him in a whole different way.
It's been weeks since the last time he tried to keep what he’s really feeling hidden inside. Dr. Copeland tells him she's confident he will reach out for help if things get bad again, and he's surprised when she follows that up by announcing he can go back to work.
He skips and runs outside to share the good news with his partner, and the hug Eddie pulls him into feels even better than the one he gave him after forgiving him for the lawsuit. He holds his boyfriend tightly, burrowing into his shoulder with a big grin.
“I'm glad I can finally have my work husband back,” Eddie confides, kissing him briefly right after. “You won't hear me say it again, but I miss your badass stunts. No one pulls the kind of rescues you do, Buck.”
He ducks his head, ears tinting pink at the praise, nuzzling into his boyfriend's nose before kissing him again. “I think you're forgetting to count yourself, Eddie. You are the king of being badass.”
His partner smirks, clearly pleased as they pull apart to start walking to the hospital exit hand in hand. “Only with you beside me, baby.”
**
By the time Christopher's birthday rolls around, he's able to stay upright on the rink as long as he doesn't make any sudden movements.
He's still awkward and flails not to faceplant on the ice every now and then, but Chris is ecstatic with his skates and walker. They have fun ice skating with him, the rest of the 118 and some of Christopher's classmates.
"I practiced, but you still have to catch me if I fall,” he whispers into his boyfriend's ear when Eddie's quick reflexes keep him from falling on his ass.
His partner pauses, arms holding him tighter as he looks at Buck like he's still afraid he might wake up one day and realize he's gone.
"I'm always going to catch you. Always.”
**
The last call they respond to on his first shift back is a third-alarm fire at an apartment complex. He's worried Bobby is going to bench him so he doesn't have to deal with keeping an eye on him amidst the chaos of the almost uncontrollable flames.
He squares his shoulders, ready to argue back if he has to, but the Captain simply gives him and his partner a nod.
“Buck, Eddie, you're on the ladder,” he orders, quickly turning around to continue ushering his team to the many risky tasks in need of doing.
They're not supposed to go in, just to put out the fire. The building the 118 is assigned to has already been deemed as lost, no survivors in it, but he spots an old man with his dog curled up in the one corner of one apartment still not engulfed in flames. He turns his radio on to inform the incident commander, turning it off without hearing any of the orders barked his way.
As he's jumping from the top of the ladder to claw on the windowsill and pull himself up, he realizes he probably should've checked with Eddie before taking the leap but it's too late.
He has to believe his partner trusts him. They can talk about it later, without adrenaline coursing through their veins.
“My name is Buck! We'll get you out of here, sir, hang on!” he shouts through the window.
“I'm Ian. Just take Bruce, please!”
The man gestures for Buck to take the German shepherd he's holding in his arms.
“We'll get you both out, I promise!”
He can hardly hear or see anything through the roar of the fire and the smoke, even with his BA on, so he vows to apologize later and dashes inside the structure to shield Ian and Bruce the best he can from the flames.
It's hard to tell, but under the soot and grime they don't look too injured, and his chest aches with the need to get them to safety so this can just be a bad memory instead of the worst, last moments of their lives.
He leads them back to the window, and convinces Ian to let go of his pet for a second so he can hurl him towards Eddie. His partner drops the hose and grabs Ian mid air to pull him to the ladder, and they repeat the same feat with Bruce before Buck flings himself out the window.
They shield the man and his dog from the flashover that takes the floor immediately after they make it out, huddling around them and pressing close to each other in the narrow space of the ladder.
Going down to hand Ian and Bruce to the paramedics is the easy part, and they hurry back from where they came to resume spraying water to control the flames.
A few hours go by until the IC declares they're done, a few small fires still burning in some of the floors, but contained enough to wait for other companies to relieve them.
He's taking off his helmet when he's almost tackled by the German shepherd. He crouches down to pet him, and the dog licks his neck and face in thanks.
“You're both okay?” he asks, looking to where Ian is sitting on the back of the RA unit, covered in a shock blanket as he breathes through an oxygen mask.
“I'm no vet, but it looks like just mild burns and smoke inhalation for both,” Hen replies. “He didn't want a ride to the hospital, so I convinced him to stick around for longer to make sure they're okay.”
The old man whistles to call his dog to his side. Bruce trots back to him obediently, wagging his tail when Hen places another oxygen mask over his nose after offering him water, pouring it from a bottle onto her palm for him to drink.
“Any other day I'd say it's a miracle and the Lord saved me and my best friend,” Ian comments through his mask. “But we'd still be up there if it weren't for you and your partner Buck. Thank you. You gentlemen are our miracle.”
“We're glad you're okay, sir,” Eddie replies, pressing a water bottle into his hand as he leans into Buck's side. “You're lucky we specialize in doing impossible, crazy things.”
“Damn right he is,” Chim remarks, approaching them with Bobby. “I can't say I missed Buck being Buck and giving all of us a heart attack.”
He takes his gloves off, uncaps the water and drinks all of it in the hopes to stall the impending conversation. He's not sure who is going to say something first, his money is on Eddie or Bobby, but then they're busy wrapping up the scene and driving back to the station.
He hugs Bobby when the Captain agrees to foster Bruce until Ian gets a new place to live where he can take him, and trails after his partner so they can take a quick shower together. Neither of them seems willing to be more than a few inches apart, so he welcomes the help washing up and returns the favor, kissing his partner's shoulder as they stand under the spray just holding each other once they're done.
“I'm sorry. I had to,” he mumbles.
“I know you did,” Eddie accepts, lips brushing his temple. “And I know what I signed up for. You're never going to abandon anyone, not willingly, and I love that about you.”
He sighs in relief, relaxing against his boyfriend's body for a couple of minutes.
Eddie reaches to close the tap and tilt his chin up. “All I ask is that you remember you're irreplaceable to me each time you're about to run head first into danger.”
Their eyes meet, and there's something achingly earnest in Eddie's gaze. He can't look away, and he swallows hard, unsure whether he shivers because he's getting cold as they stand still wet in the shower stall or because for the first time, he doesn't feel the need to remind his boyfriend what a mess he really is and how he'd be better off with someone else.
“I'll be right here to have your back. Just come back to me, Buck. Don't leave me again.”
He leans in, catching Eddie's lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Even the most horrible thoughts in his head aren't enough to drown out how much his partner loves him, and his skin tingles all over as the knowledge finally takes root in his heart, holding the broken pieces together and making him feel whole again.
“I'll always run right back to you, Eddie. I promise.”
Notes:
the bits of Spanish:
Mierda (Fuck)
Te amo, mi vida (literally translates to 'I love you, my life' but mi vida is meant as a term of endearment like 'love' or 'baby' are in English)** please do not buy or sell fanfiction. I don't want our favorite hobby to disappear because of people making profit out of something that doesn't belong to them. if you want to print or learn bookbinding and do it yourself or have a friend that can do it for you, great, but don't pay for it to be done for you.
Pages Navigation
bi_spy_agent214 on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 12:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
dragon_rider on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 08:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
thetalee on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 12:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
Jaiden088 on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 12:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
dragon_rider on Chapter 1 Mon 14 Nov 2022 10:50PM UTC
Comment Actions
melly_k on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 12:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
dragon_rider on Chapter 1 Mon 14 Nov 2022 10:51PM UTC
Comment Actions
2Write_1More on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
dragon_rider on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 10:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 10:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:38AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aniana on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Aquabrie (Cheddar_brie) on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 01:46AM UTC
Comment Actions
gingerpolyglot on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 02:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
HanAlister on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 02:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
Ty_in_Bedlam on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 03:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
Infinity_Queen_forever on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 03:54PM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Sun 06 Nov 2022 09:28PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 06 Nov 2022 09:30PM UTC
Comment Actions
Jesuismoi on Chapter 1 Mon 07 Nov 2022 04:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
c_morrigan on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Nov 2022 07:41AM UTC
Comment Actions
itsgarbagecannotgarbagecannot on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Nov 2022 03:09PM UTC
Comment Actions
nerdie on Chapter 1 Wed 09 Nov 2022 08:42PM UTC
Comment Actions
EstherCloyse on Chapter 1 Thu 10 Nov 2022 03:42AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation