Work Text:
“You got your phone charger?” Buck asks.
“Yup,” Eddie says.
“And that portable battery because you know your phone’s gonna die during the class – because it’s old. You need to get a new one.”
“I got the battery,” Eddie says, “yes.”
“And…”
Eddie huffs. “Toothbrush, comb, all of it – we’re good.”
“I’m kinda jealous.” Buck changes gears as Eddie throws a final shirt into a duffel bag. “You get to go on a charter plane with the chief and-and who knows what else? You should use this as a chance to network. We could totally get them to spring for the air hockey table.”
He’s been talking like this for at least an hour, and Eddie’s given him those indulgent, fond smiles that make Buck feel like it’s okay, like maybe it’s good if he keeps going. But he can tell he’s starting to lose Eddie to his own thoughts.
“Seriously, it’s cool!” Buck tries. “The only time the LAFD’s ever flown me anywhere is when we stole that helicopter, and, well, obviously that wasn’t authorized.”
Eddie chuckles, pulls the zipper of his bag, and slings it over his shoulder. “If you wanted the spot, you could’ve asked for it.”
Buck deflates. “Yeah, but it’s…” Buck didn’t ask because Eddie needs this – because one of the training facilities where they’re offering the class is in El Paso. So he wasn’t about to take the spot from Eddie, and Gerrard obviously wasn’t going to ask for an anything extra. In fact, if Buck had indicated he wanted the spot too – Gerrard would’ve turned it into some fucked up competition that Eddie really didn’t need.
“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, “it’s El Paso, but if you’d asked – they would’ve picked you, you’re like a sponge with this stuff.”
Buck opens his mouth, then lets it go as Eddie slips through the doorway beside him, and Buck trails him down the hall. “Did you, uh… did you get to talk to Chris?”
“Yep,” Eddie answers, voice shaved to something scary casual. “I told him I was coming, and he said whatever, Dad, but you know, it’s not so bad, because not only did he speak actual words to me, he called me Dad.” He cocks his head with a conciliatory click of his tongue. “Kind of said it like a curse word, but I’ll take what I can get.”
Buck closes his eyes. This Chris thing has been a nightmare. There are days when Buck wants to fly to El Paso himself, throw Ramon and Helena into the trunk of a rental, drive it into the nearest body of water, and forcibly drag Chris back by his hair.
“You can’t keep letting him talk to you like that,” Buck tries.
It’s pointless, and he knows it. These conversations always end the same way. Eddie blames himself, completely, for everything that happened, and the idea of being angry at Chris is unfathomable to him. But it’s not unfathomable to Buck, and lately, more and more often, he can’t help bringing it up.
For a little while, it was fine. Chris was hurt. He needed space, and Eddie was right to give it to him, but lately, Buck wakes up every morning wondering how the hell Chris is still in El Paso. It’s been three months, and Chris has barely spoken two words to his own dad.
Buck is angry, and he knows some part of it has to do with Eddie being… well, Eddie. It’s probably why Chris hasn’t spoken to Buck in the past three months either, because he knows Buck won’t be able to hold back. But, even if Buck wasn’t bearing witness to Eddie’s heart breaking daily, Buck misses Chris. He misses video games and dinners, and he doesn’t get how Chris doesn’t miss them .
Because it’s been three fucking months, and Helena is still gleefully taking the phone from Chris after every poorly enunciated three-word conversation. And Chris is still handing it to her.
And Eddie is still letting him.
And Buck can’t do anything.
“Buck,” Edie warns.
“Eddie,” Buck answers.
If nothing else, the tug-of-war has eased some of the tension in Eddie’s shoulders. “I’ll talk to him when I get there. I’m hoping things’ll be easier in person.”
They weren’t the last time.
Things were fresh, then, sure, but Helena Diaz is like a breeding ground for vitriolic contempt for her son. He would’ve never thought Christopher would buy into it, but, well… here they are.
“I wish I could go with you…” he blurts out.
Eddie laughs, which is not what Buck expects, nor does he expect Eddie to turn just short of the doorway to peer at Buck like he’s said something terrible. “Why? So you can stand there and awkwardly witness the implosion of my family a second time?”
There’s something biting in the words, like Eddie’s angry and trying not to be. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie gets out, “what was that supposed to mean?”
“That I want to be there for you, that this sucks and I’m your best friend?”
Eddie laughs, again, and this time – it’s definitely barbed. “I appreciate it, Buck.”
“Why do you sound pissed?”
Eddie adjusts his bag strap. “Sorry, I’m not pissed, I’m just… anxious to get out there and see how this goes.”
That’s not the complete truth. Eddie won’t look at him, and there’s this long, uncertain silence before Buck says, “Just because he feels something doesn’t mean it’s right, even if he’s mad at you.”
“I exposed him to the spitting image of his dead mother,” Eddie says. “I think he gets to feel however he wants to.”
“Eddie…”
Eddie pulls open the door. “It’s fine, Buck – I’ll let you know how it goes.” And then, almost like an accusation, “You still got that thing with Tommy tonight?”
Buck follows him outside. “Yeah, but… if you need to talk—I mean, he’ll understand.”
“I’m sure he would,” Eddie bites out. “But I think I’m gonna pass. It was humiliating enough that you… that he was… Chris’s birthday.”
Humiliating isn’t an angle Buck considered, but the shadows in Eddie’s eyes say he has, again and again, he has. “O-okay, then I’ll make something up – he doesn’t have to know… i-if you need me…”
“I’m a grown-up,” Eddie snaps. “I don’t need anyone, Buck. This is my life. I got it. I’ll…” He swallows, like he’s playing back his words and choking on them. “It’s not your responsibility, okay? I’ll fix it.”
“Eddie…” Desperation sticks to Buck’s tongue and in the crook of his fingers. He knows this isn’t his responsibility. But he’s not sure how to explain that he wants it to be without fracturing something between him and Eddie. Inevitably, all that comes out is, “You want me to drive you to the airport?” A beat, then a lie. “Chimney said he wanted donuts from the place up there so I’m heading over there before work, anyway.”
Eddie’s mouth opens, and there’s a beat of indignation, and then another of pure, unadulterated exhaustion, before he says, “Sure, yeah, if – yeah.”
The drive is mostly quiet. Buck fiddles with the radio and talks about the training Eddie’s getting in El Paso. “WUI’s been around since, like, the sixties. It’s crazy we’re just now getting proper training, considering how common wildfires have gotten. Did, uh… did you know wildfires can create their own weather?”
Eddie half-laughs, more genuine than the ones back at the house, and when he tosses his head towards Buck, his eyes glitter with something like curiosity. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, coming alive at the attention. “The heat gets so intense, they make their own, like, local weather systems. They’re called firestorms, and they can cause really strong updrafts or erratic winds, even cause lightning.”
Eddie’s laugh is quieter this time, but it’s heavy, like it came from somewhere deep in his chest, and it wraps around Buck. “Why am I even going to this thing? You could probably give the class right now.”
“Nah,” Buck says, too quick, then chuckles. “I just looked up a little after they assigned you to go. The actual techniques are pretty complicated. That’s why it’s an in-person class. They have like, training courses and everything. It’ll be cool.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, kind of absently. “Well, feel free to add context when I leave something out.”
Eddie’s doing this whole train the trainer thing – where he learns the course, then brings it back to the 118 and a couple other stations in LA. Buck thinks Eddie will make a good teacher. He’s got a smooth voice – the kind that makes words easier to understand.
“Will do,” Buck says.
They pull up to the airport, and Buck tries to get out, before Eddie gets a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine. I think I can walk sixty feet to the ramp. Thanks for the lift.”
Buck stares at Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, and he thinks, kind of stupidly, that he wants to grab it. That he wants to pin it there so Eddie can’t pull away, wants to pin it until the imprint of Eddie’s fingers sink into his fucking clavicle.
Eddie raises his eyebrows, then goes to slide his hand off Buck’s shoulder, and Buck – for reasons he can’t quantify – clamps his hand over Eddie’s. He does exactly what he imagined and holds him there, hands clammy and crackling with nerves.
“Buck?” Eddie asks, kind of breathless. “What’s—what are you-?”
“Uh, I…” Buck starts, with absolutely no idea where he’s going with this. “I wanted…” He swallows. He’s not sure he knows English, or any language at all, in fact. “I’m sorry for bringing Tommy to Chris’s birthday. I thought – I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t embarrassing. You’re…”
Eddie tugs at his hand, but Buck’s grip is stronger. Eddie’s knuckles thrum with heat beneath Buck’s palm, these brilliant little indents, and Buck wants to press harder and harder until they break open his skin, until they’re part of his bone structure.
It’s an insane thing to think. All of this is so insane, but he’s just staring at the feverish look in Eddie’s dark brown eyes and letting his mind unravel.
“It’s okay,” Eddie says, “you asked, I said yes – it just… you were trying to be nice.”
“No.” It comes out automatically. Because it was never about nice – it’s never about nice with Eddie, but Buck doesn’t know what it’s about. So he just leaves it there, hanging.
“You weren’t trying to be nice?”
“No, I-I mean, yes, or… uh…”
Eddie chokes and twists it into a laugh. “Buck, did you need something? Because if not, I gotta go. I’m gonna miss my flight.”
Buck does need something. He just doesn’t know what. He stares, kind of blank, at Eddie for a few seconds too long before he finally lets him go. “I… yeah, sorry, just… be safe?”
Amusement sparkles in Eddie’s expression. “I’ll make sure to stop by the cockpit and tell the pilot to be safe. I’m sure it’ll put an immediate end to whatever plans he had to fly us straight into the first mountain he finds.”
“Not funny,” Buck whines.
“I’ll text you when we touch down, alright?” Eddie smiles at him, and it’s soft and sincere and more striking than it’s got any right to be. “Don’t jump off the firehouse roof while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” Buck says.
It widens Eddie’s smile, and Buck stares at it. Eddie has a good mouth. Lips that lend themselves to bright, pretty things. They’re soft in ways Tommy’s aren’t.
Buck startles at the thought and forces himself to nod, forces himself to sit there and watch Eddie’s back as he heads towards the runway. Forces himself to breathe, before he looks at his phone.
Can you get donuts from Randy’s?
Assuming you drove Eddie.
(We both know you drove Eddie.)
From Chimney. It’s infuriating, so Buck’s not sure why he’s chuckling.
Sure, he answers.
This trip needs to go well for Eddie. And Buck is trying so hard to convince himself it will, but the conversation plays back through his head, and instead of starting the car like he knows he should, he pulls up Eddie’s name in his phone:
If he was treating anyone else like this, you’d put a stop to it.
He stares at the text, gnawing the inside of his cheek. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but impulse control has never been a strong suit of his.
He hits send, then tosses his phone into the passenger seat. Frissons of anxiety tingle through his fingers as he makes his way back to the highway. He’s so caught up in not perceiving his phone, he almost misses the turn off into the donut place.
His phone buzzes as he kills the engine, and naturally, he grabs it.
Leave it alone.
Buck winces. Eddie’s mad. But then, Buck knew he was going to be. Still, he can’t let this go. Maybe Eddie needs to be pissed. Needs to be pissed at someone other than himself.
I will when you stop leaving it alone.
Are you really picking a fight with me right now?
I just want you to get him back.
And I don’t?
So make him come home, you’re his dad!
Yeah, I’m his dad. Not you.
It startles the phone and the box of donuts out of his hands and onto the ground. He pretends it doesn’t hurt. Pretends there isn’t a wet burn behind his eyes. Eddie’s mad – he does this when he’s mad, but fuck.
Buck grits his teeth and grabs the mostly in-tact donuts and his phone, then climbs back into his Jeep. Maybe it isn’t his business, but it’s never not been his business before. No, he’s not Chris’s dad, but he’s close – he’s close enough to care. Close enough to be in Eddie’s will. Close enough to see that Eddie’s making choices almost as bad as Chris’s.
He works himself into a rage spiral, then a guilt spiral, then a dozen other spirals, on the way to the firehouse. He doesn’t look at his phone, because if Eddie hasn’t apologized, Buck’s going to be agonizing over it for the entire two-hour flight. May as well postpone it until he gets to work.
Fortunately, when he gets to work, he has three more texts:
Sorry, that was shitty.
You’ve got every right to an opinion here.
I’ll call you later.
Buck lets out a breath that unwinds the knot in his chest. It doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, but Eddie didn’t let it linger. He doesn’t bother texting back, since the plane’s probably already in the air.
He brings the box of donuts inside, and Chimney whoops and rushes over. Hen’s still acting captain for a few more days until Gerrard recovers, so fortunately, there’s no obligatory lineup to get spit on before shift starts.
“Called it,” Chimney says as Hen comes over to grab one of the donuts.
Hen rolls her eyes before she takes a bite. “And it was about as impressive as calling a firetruck red.”
Buck pretends not to know what they’re talking about. “You guys think Eddie needs to, like, talk to Chris, right? It’s crazy he’s still in El Paso.”
“Damn,” Chimney says around a bite. “Guy hasn’t been gone thirty seconds and you’re gossiping about him.”
“I’m not gossiping,” Buck says. “I’m worried.”
Hen pats Buck’s back, kind of half-hearted. “You gotta let this thing play out.”
“I can’t,” Buck says, “what if Chris never comes back? What if they convince him to stay there forever? That’s not – that can’t happen.”
Hen and Chimney exchange one of their looks, and it makes Buck wish Eddie were here, even though they would be pointedly not looking at each other if he was.
A few other firefighters come over and make quick work of the box. Buck doesn’t get one, but then, he wasn’t particularly hungry. Eventually, Chimney gives him a lopsided smile. “Ultimately, it’s up to Eddie how this plays out.”
I’m his dad. Not you.
Irritation flares in Buck, and he scoffs. “So because I’m not his dad I don’t get to have any thoughts or feelings about any of it?” Buck asks. “I miss Chris too. I love that kid like he’s—I love that kid.”
Hen stills and tilts her head. “No one’s saying you don’t, and no one’s taking away what you’ve done for Chris or Eddie, but at the end of the day… on a fundamental level, you’re still an outsider, here.”
“No,” Buck says, just as automatic as when he said inviting Tommy to Chris’s birthday wasn’t about being nice. “I’m not an outsider. It’s Eddie.”
A half-scoff, half-laugh tumbles out of Hen. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck.”
“I do,” Chimney interrupts, “hate to say it, but it’s not like you two are married. Fact of the matter is, you gotta butt out.”
Bile climbs his throat. This isn’t Chimney’s fault, isn’t Hen’s, isn’t even Eddie’s. But he doesn’t like this – doesn’t like that he’s stuck at the end of this line, and all anyone keeps saying is it’s not his problem.
It is his problem. He misses Chris. He loves Chris. And Eddie is hurting. Eddie is hurting, and Buck… Buck hates that more than anything.
He thinks of Eddie on that hospital bed, with his arm in a sling, the day he told Buck about the will. They haven’t talked about it since, and Buck knows blurting it out to Chim and Hen right now isn’t going to change anything. But he isn’t an outsider – he’s literally in Eddie’s will. He’s supposed to take Chris if… if something happens to Eddie.
But that’s the thing, the reason he’s never brought it up is because Buck can’t even look at the idea of something happening to Eddie. He doesn’t want that – fuck, he isn’t even sure he’d survive it.
He’s in Eddie’s will, though, and it’s not fair that Eddie has to be gone for that to matter.
“You know what’ll take your mind off it?” Chimney asks. “Helping me clean B shift’s turnouts!”
Buck sighs, but he gestures for Chimney to lead the way, because honestly, he’ll take anything to occupy any part of him right now – anything that isn’t Eddie and how Buck is an outsider when it comes to his own damn family.
It doesn’t take nearly long enough, so Buck’s surprised to see a notification when he checks his phone, and even more surprised to see it’s a missed call from Eddie, a voicemail from Eddie. His eyes dart to the time in the top right of the screen. It’s been maybe forty-five minutes since the plane was supposed to take off.
Buck doesn’t think too hard about it, just clicks on the voicemail and presses it to his ear.
“Hey, Buck…” Eddie sounds strained, like he’s out of breath. “So this is… kinda funny, and… kinda stupid.” Buck tilts his head, pressing the phone harder against his ear. “It’s terrible, actually, but uh, I just need to...” His laugh is tinny and cinched too tight. Buck can’t do this. He goes to hang up, to call Eddie back and talk to him, except, “I love you.”
And Buck slams the phone back into his head so hard it hurts, eyes wide, suspended in something separate from reality.
“Fuck, sorry. I just—I love you. Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to be so—but I, uh, I love you, and I really don’t want this to be some guilt thing.” He’s struggling with the words, like he’s gasping them, too slow. “I’m sorry I said you weren’t Chris’s dad, except, well, you’re not and I-I want you to be. I wanted you to… be. So bad. I want… I… god, I am so in love with you…” The words choke off in a cough.
Something is wrong. Buck’s heart is in his throat, no, Buck’s heart is hurtling through the damn stratosphere, but the rest of him is on the ground – the rest of him is here, hands shaking, breathing trembling. Because something is wrong.
Alarms blare in his ears. He doesn’t know if they’re real or in his head, but he can’t make himself move, can’t do anything but listen.
“This timing sucks really—uh, real fucking bad, I probably… shouldn’t have said anything, but I…” Eddie tries to laugh again, but he can’t. It sticks in his throat. “It’s just you. You’re there. All the time. I wake up, and I think about—I breathe, and-and, you’re like a fucking disease, Buck. It’s like I’m infected with you. My kid is gone. My kid is gone, and I… can’t… sometimes, when I wake up, I miss you. Before I—before I miss him, I miss you. I can’t… I-I just love you. Every day, and I… I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Buck.”
“Buck!” Chimney shakes Buck’s shoulder, and Buck thinks maybe he’s been shaking it for a while. He doesn’t say anything, but Chimney barely notices. “C’mon, we got a call, suit up.”
“A…” The voicemail’s still going, but Eddie isn’t talking anymore. “I…”
“Missing b-c-d-e-f-g-h there, bud,” Chimney says, then slows and cocks his head, “everything alright?”
Hen brushes between them. “C’mon, guys! We gotta go.” She mutters something into her radio as she heads towards one of the trucks.
Buck shakes his head, startling back to reality to the sound of the firehouse alarms. He trembles as he presses the call back button. Trembles as it rings, and rings, and rings.
“N-no, w-wait … just… uh.” He tries again. It rings, and rings…
And rings.
The world is faded, far away, all a backdrop to Eddie’s words, playing again and again, around and around in his head. Loud, then too quiet. He doesn’t realize he’s putting on his turnouts. Doesn’t hear Chimney’s increasingly worried questions.
He’s in the truck. It’s moving. Maybe.
Everything is a cluster of sounds and screaming, tunneling through reality, dragging him through color after color and sound after sound until finally, Hen says it, “Plane crash.”
“Eddie,” Buck finally gasps out. “It’s...”
Chimney goes pale and snaps his head towards Hen. “Hang on – hang on, what?”
“There was an issue during takeoff,” Hen says, voice stripped of emotion as she shoots one glance back towards them. “And yeah, I think…”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Chimney says. “Is it bad?”
Buck stares, stares and tries to make his eyes see something – anything. “He called me.”
“He called you?” Hen whirls all the way around now where she’s sitting in the front passenger seat. “Like – wait, what’d he say? Is he alright?”
The answer turns to ash on Buck’s tongue. He stares at his phone. “How far out is it?”
“Twenty minutes,” Hen answers. “Went down somewhere near Chino. I think they called in a couple different houses because they aren’t sure what kind of search and rescue we’re looking at. There was a crack in the fuselage – sounds like the pressure change broke it apart.”
Buck’s going to be sick.
Eddie didn’t say where he was. He didn’t say if he was hurt. He didn’t say anything… but he did. He said everything.
I love you.
Buck swipes at his eyes, dragging in breath after painful breath. He stopped talking. Buck pulls the phone to his ear to listen to it again. He listens, listens until the end – until Eddie’s breathing goes ragged. He doesn’t hang up. There’s just dead air until the phone cuts off.
The world crashes and craters around Buck as they drive. Twenty minutes – but it feels like forever. It feels like time has stopped. It feels like time has left him behind. Eventually, they reach the site. It’s mostly flat, save a few trees – a wide area.
According to Hen, they’re still trying to figure out the debris field.
There’s another firetruck and ambulance there already, and the captain comes over to talk through coverage with Hen.
“Looks like they found some survivors already,” Chim says, nodding towards a couple near the back of the ambulance. “That’s a good sign.”
Buck stares, kind of blankly, listening to Eddie’s phone ring for the millionth time. He won’t fucking answer. And Buck doesn’t know how to take another breath – he’s pretty sure the next second is going to kill him.
Except, then, Eddie does answer.
Like he knows.
“Buck.” His voice is wrong, all slashed to ribbons. “Hey.”
“Eddie,” Buck gasps. “Eddie, fuck – Eddie.”
Chim and Hen whirl on him, eyes wide and panting.
“I called you,” Buck gasps, maybe sobs, “I called you, and you…”
Eddie breaths too hard over the line. “I think I passed out.”
“Where are you?” Buck begs. “Tell me where you are.”
“Um…” It’s this fragile, worn thin sound – it’s Eddie, but isn’t. “I don’t… uh, I’m not sure. There’s… there’s a tree? It’s a – maybe a field?”
“Okay,” Buck says, shoving every ounce of encouragement he’s got into his voice. “Okay, good, I… we’re here… we’re in… we’re in Ch-Chino Hills, I think. I… are you—Eddie, are you hurt?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, like it’s an answer to whether he’s coming in to work.
Hen grabs Buck by the forearms and keeps her voice low as she says, “We need to spread out and search, but keep him talking, Buck – get as much information as you can. Is he—” She closes her eyes, then steels herself. “Is he injured?”
Buck nods, then asks Eddie, “How bad?”
“Bad,” Eddie answers.
“Eddie,” Buck whimpers, even though he doesn’t mean to, and he doesn’t even have to meet Hen’s eyes for her to start calling out orders to the rest of the firefighters. “Eddie, okay – I… talk to me, I need – I need you to give me more than that.”
Eddie makes this strangled, wet kind of sound, that eventually slides into a laugh. “Uh… I’m pinned, under, the… part of the plane. I… my legs and pelvis are… definitely crushed.”
Buck’s breathing goes shallow, and his knees shake as he watches a few of the other firefighters disappear beyond the tree line. “Okay, that’s—okay. You gotta be close by. There’s… I’m looking at part of the plane right now. I’m sure…”
Buck half-staggers in a direction. He thinks maybe Hen pointed him in it, but he’s struggling, head on a swivel as he searches dead leaves and endless, jagged earth. “Can you, uh… can you make noise? Just… yell or-or something?”
Eddie swallows loud enough that Buck hears it. “Gonna be honest, I’m… barely having this conversation…” There’s a pause, before, “Buck, did—”
“I need you to try,” Buck snaps, hard over Eddie’s words. “I need you to… figure something out.” Buck grits his teeth and presses into the next words. “For me, okay?”
Eddie’s laugh is wheezing. “Okay – okay, then you… you yell…”
Buck pulls the phone away from his mouth, almost immediately, and he does – he screams, and it comes so easy, it bursts out of him like a geyser. He yells, and he yells, and he yells. And he thinks, somewhere in the middle, it warps into Eddie’s name.
Before finally, he drags the phone back to his ear, “Did you… did you hear me?”
“I…” Eddie rakes in a breath. “Yeah. I did. I think… south – you’re… south?”
Buck twists himself around – finds the sun pitched in the sky and tries to figure out which way north is. He does and starts in that direction, quicker, with renewed purpose. “Okay, okay, I’m coming, Eddie – I promise, I’m coming.”
“Oh…” Eddie starts and fades, then starts again, “Okay.”
Buck pulls the phone away, covers the mouthpiece, and then yells, more coherent this time, “Eddie!” Before he drags the phone back to him. “Am I closer?”
“Th…think so.”
Buck keeps moving. His sprint turns to a job, then back again. He finds a piece of white metal lodged into the ground, but there’s nothing under it – it’s charred and black, and there’s nothing. “Keep talking, Eddie. I need you to keep talking. Tell me what you see.”
“I… I don’t see anything,” Eddie says, and it’s wet – it’s wet and weak. “It’s just… the tree, and-and the plane… and… Buck, Buck, can we… can we talk?”
“No,” Buck hisses. “Not now. We can talk when your pelvis and legs aren’t crushed.”
“Buck,” Eddie gasps. “Buck, I think I’m…”
“Shut up,” Buck snaps, and it’s vicious – nastier than anything he’s ever said to Eddie. “Stop… stop trying to… just shut up and help me find you.”
He keeps running. There’s another part of the plane. Another tree. There’s dirt and grass and nothing. Eddie’s breathing starts and stops, and Buck clings to every gasp. He will fix this. He just has to get to him.
“I don’t…” Buck swallows, then winces. “I don’t see you.” It’s this scraping, kind of half-scream. “Where are you? Where are you, Eddie?”
There’s no one else around him. He feels like he’s wandered too far, like there’s nothing left, all he has is Eddie’s voice on the other end of the phone. It’s the only thing that’s keeping him from shattering, and now, even that’s not coming.
“Eddie,” Buck chokes. “Eddie, please – I can’t do this. I need you to… please… Eddie?”
His breathing goes quiet beneath another sound – it’s a banging, reverberating noise that crawls into his skull and shakes. It echoes and bounces off the air – off everything. Then, it comes back, harder, and some of the echo falls away. Buck’s mind finds the center of it, the start of it, down a slope a little ways in front of him.
He clutches the phone to his ear, even as he runs, even as he tears over the grass and dirt – through trees and underbrush. The sound comes again, then again, a beacon that keeps dragging him forward.
“Eddie,” Buck finally pants into the phone. “Eddie, are you…”
It’s been so long. It’s been too long since Eddie said anything. Buck can’t hear anything on the other line anymore, but a little ways in front of him, there’s another slice of white – stark against the green and brown horizon.
Another bang. Buck feels it, hears it, directly in front of him. He grits his teeth and sprints as hard as his body will let him, until the white becomes a shattered piece of plane – until he’s twenty feet, ten, five…
All he sees is a hand, like it’s trying to grab onto the white-stained metal, but he knows it – knows the arc in his knuckles and the curve of his fingers. “Eddie!”
Buck hits his knees, as Eddie’s arm falls limp on the soil, as he lets the stone in his hand come loose and tumble towards Buck.
“Eddie!” Buck drops low and crawls into the hollowed-out space beneath the debris. Eddie is streaked with blood and dirt and only half visible beneath the metal that’s pinned him to the soil. Buck can’t make out his legs or any of his left side. “I’m here—Eddie… hey, are… hey.”
Eddie’s eyelids flutter. He’s pale, and there are ruby-stained cracks in his lips as he finds Buck. “H-hey.”
Buck presses the button on his radio. “Hen,” he gets out. “Hen – I found—I got Eddie. I… I need help. He needs help.”
“How is he?’ Hen’s voice comes immediately.
“He’s…” Buck tries, “y-you gotta hurry. A-and bring everybody – he’s stuck under the plane.”
“Okay,” Hen says. “I got your location. We’re on the way.”
Buck drops his radio and gets a hand on Eddie’s sprawled and trembling hand. “Hey, we’re gonna get you out of there, alright?”
“Did…” Eddie wheezes through the word. “Did you find… anyone else?”
“Y-yeah… we did.” Buck holds on tighter. “You did great, okay? You did great, Eddie, just… just hang in there.”
Eddie’s mouth quirks into a half-smile before his eyes go glassy, and his teeth chatter. “Buck,” he wheezes. “I-I think you’re right… about Chris. I just don’t know… how to…”
“Don’t,” Buck hisses, then glances up at the shredded piece of plane over top of them. “We’re not doing this now. We’ll do it once you’re out.”
“Buck,” Eddie whimpers.
Buck lets go of his hand and stands up, then gets his hands on the metal edges of the plane and pulls – pulls with everything he’s got. With strength he didn’t know he had. The metal groans, shifts, but won’t come loose. Buck tries again, then again, until something pops in his shoulder, until the effort knocks him back to the ground.
“Shit,” Buck gasps. “Shit, I can’t…”
“Buck…” Eddie tries.
Buck crawls back into the space beside Eddie, wraps a hand around his freezing fingers again. “It’s okay. The rest of—they’ll be here any second, just shh, okay? Take deep breaths.”
“I would…” Eddie’s hand twitches in Buck’s, “but my chest… feels like it’s gonna explode… tell… Hen and Chim —probably… a massive hemothorax.”
“You tell them.” Buck scoots closer until the plane digs into his back and Eddie’s almost directly beneath him, but Eddie’s eyes are clinging, watching Buck like he’s the only thing in the world. “I’m not a medic so you gotta stay awake. They—they’re almost here… you tell them, okay?”
“I don’t want…” Eddie’s breaths are too shallow, catching on his tongue, in his teeth. “I don’t want… Chris to… feel bad.”
“What are you talking about?” Buck hisses, more demand than question. “Stop talking like that – we’re gonna get you out. We’re gonna get you out and you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna tell Chris to stop being ridiculous and to come home and it’s gonna be fine .”
“I should…” Eddie’s eyes glaze, for just a second, before he comes back. “I should have.”
“You will.” Buck clings to his hand and draws it to his mouth.
“Sorry,” Eddie chokes, “about the… voicemail.”
Buck feels Eddie’s hand slacken in his. Watches the light in his eyes start to dim, and Buck yanks at his arm. “No, no – no, don’t… don’t be sorry. You…” He wants to wait because if he says it now, he’s admitting Eddie might not make it. “You know how I feel, Eddie.”
Eddie shudders a little more awake at the words, brown eyes going a little less gray. “Wh-what’re you—?”
“Hush,” Buck hisses. “You gotta know. I… c’mon. You knew. You know. I don’t even know how to—but I’m not gonna say it, Eddie. Not yet, okay? Because I need you to survive – I need you to wake up so I can say it, okay? So I can say it, over and over, and know you’re not going to just…”
Eddie lets out this quiet little sound, this hopeful, ragged breath, and a tear spills from the corner of his eye and mingles with the blood across the bridge of his nose.
“It’ll kill me if you die, Eddie,” Buck rasps. “You hear me? It’ll kill me. So you have to stay alive, okay? You have to live. You have to live because we’re supposed to end up together. So you can’t… die on me.”
“Buck…”
“We’re going to get Chris back, and we’re going to shake some sense into him, and then we’re gonna… we’re gonna be a family who has… waffles for breakfast every Sunday and lasagna for dinner every night until you tell me you’re sick of it because it’s all I ever make. We’re gonna move Chris into some stupid college dorm and I’m gonna make him miserable because I’m gonna kiss you in front of his roommate, and-and, hey, I’ll even go to those stupid… Lakers games, and I won’t even complain because you’ll be there.”
Eddie’s mouth fights for a smile again. “You—you’d complain.”
“I would.” Buck thumbs at the tears on Eddie’s cheeks and ignores the streaks of warmth spilling over his own. “I’m gonna complain so much, but I’m gonna love it… because—because it’s you. We’re meant to be, Eddie. We always have been.”
“That’s…” Eddie manages another fractured smile before he tenses beneath Buck’s hand, once, twice, then his eyelids flutter, and his eyes go dim and flat.
Buck shakes his head and drags himself closer, until his breath is lashing hard over Eddie’s mouth. He grabs his face, fingers crooking along the lines of his jaw, before Buck angles his head and drags Eddie’s mouth against his. All he tastes is blood, metallic over his tongue, but it doesn’t matter. For a beat, there’s nothing, just an endless stillness, until, inevitably, Eddie stutters to life, raking, against Buck’s mouth.
“Stay awake ,” Buck breathes against his mouth. “Stay with me.”
“Buck!” the voice comes from a few yards behind him. “Buck, where are you?”
Buck keeps his fingers on Eddie’s jaw and holds his eyes, even as he shouts, “Here – it’s… down the hill. Over here.”
Finally, he registers their footsteps, and Hen bends down first, as Buck eases out of the way so she can see him.
“Hey there, Eddie, how you feeling?”
Eddie chokes around a rush of blood in his mouth, and it seeps between his teeth as he looks at Hen. “Fan…fantastic.”
“Really gotta raise your standards, there, Diaz,” Chimney says over her shoulder.
“We gotta get the plane off him,” Buck says, as if Hen doesn’t know. “His legs and pelvis are crushed, and he said he thinks he’s got a massive hemothorax.”
Eddie scoffs, and there’s more blood. “I thought… I was supposed...”
Buck tries to smile, but he’s still holding Eddie’s hand, and he can’t tell which one of them is shaking. “Figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Okay, Buck, get ready to pull him out…” Hen instructs a few of the other firefighters around the side of the plane. “We oughta have enough here to lift this thing.” She gets her own grip on the metal, and Buck pulls into a crouch, sliding both his hands around Eddie’s arm.
“Buck…” Eddie struggles to keep his eyes on Buck’s. “Say it… please.”
Tears stutter over the cuts on his cheek, and Buck can’t tell if he’s quivering from shock or sobbing or both. “No,” Buck trembles. “I will say it once you are safe.”
“I…” Eddie tries to draw in a breath that won’t come. “Please.”
Buck’s heart breaks, and the words claw over his tongue, but he just squeezes Eddie’s hand tighter. “Stay alive.”
“On my count,” Hen says, “one, two, three…”
The metal groans again, and this time, it starts to move, slow at first, then more – until Eddie lets out a choking cry as it comes away from his legs.
Buck pulls his arm, then gets his hand on the other side of his body and drags until he’s clear of the plane. It drops with a crash that splinters through the air, and Buck scrabbles towards Eddie, tries to look at him, but Eddie’s eyes roll back and he goes limp. There’s a smear of blood in the soil, and Eddie’s pants are stained black with it.
“Eddie!” Buck tries to grab onto him, but Hen shoulders him back.
“Chim, get me that board, we need to get him to a hospital now.”
“Hen,” Buck gasps, fingers flailing, trying to find a way to make her look at him – to get her to fix this. “He – he’s gonna be fine, right?”
Hen whirls on him. “Buck, you know I can’t answer that right now – but if you wanna come with, get ready to get in the ambulance.”
Buck watches them get Eddie onto the board, watches as Chimney gets the rescue breath mask over his mouth. It’s all soundless, a new kind of silence, as he watches Eddie’s face – watches the pinches of pain lessen as his consciousness wanes.
I love you.
Why didn’t he say it? What if…
No, there can’t be a what if, here. That’s why he didn’t say it.
Eddie’s face is so pale. He looks… Panic tears a gash down Buck’s throat. “Why—why are his lips blue? What is—h-hey, Chimney?”
Chimney is prepping a needle, so quick – scary quick, and then he’s sliding it into Eddie’s ribcage. “Tension pneumothorax.” He presses the needle in deeper, until he stops, then lets out a breath.
Buck stares at Eddie. The machines are screaming. Buck’s been in enough ambulances to know what that means. But he ignores it, carves out every part of him that thinks too hard about it.
“Shit, no pulse.”
Buck knows he’s not supposed to be in here – knows he’s not here as a medic, Chimney is, but still, he climbs on top of Eddie and presses his hands into his chest.
“Buck!” Chimney gasps.
“Eddie,” Buck says through compressions. “Eddie – you gotta come back, you can’t—you can’t do this to me.”
I love you.
“Buck, switch!” Chimney tries again, and then groans. “Fuck, nevermind.” He administers timed rescue breaths and keeps glancing back at the vitals’ reading. “C’mon Eddie.”
“C’mon Eddie,” Buck echoes. “I know you’re not gonna make me live with this. That’s why I didn’t say it. I didn’t say it – so you have to come back.”
Chimney takes another unsteady breath. “Okay, Buck, why don’t you let me give it a shot? Take a break.”
“Eddie,” Buck says, and tears cling to the edge of his nose, before falling to mingle with the bloodied bruises on Eddie’s face. “Eddie, I… please, please don’t make me come after you.”
He feels it, like something blossoming beneath his hands, before Chimney gasps out, “H-hey, there we go—we got him. Got a pulse.”
The ambulance pulls up to the hospital a few seconds later, and Buck half stumbles off the stretcher as they take Eddie back.
Chimney slaps a hand between Buck’s shoulder blades. “You did good, Buck.”
“I didn’t…” Buck wheezes, all serrated. “I didn’t say it back.”
“He knows,” Chimney says.
“He asked me to say it.” Buck shakes his head. “But I didn’t want… I didn’t… he can’t…”
Chimney closes his eyes and draws Buck into a hug. “I know, Buck, I know.”
It’s a few hours later, after Maddie’s stumbled into the waiting room, after Hen’s rubbed his back, after Bobby’s called, and eventually come once he heard Buck’s voice. It’s after all that, and they still don’t know anything.
The doctor comes in with her hands up, and she manages a tired breath. “We’re still working, but I… I was wondering if he—does he have any family that might…”
Buck’s body goes cold, and he nearly drops to the floor. “Wh-what? Why? What?”
She forces another gesture with her hands. “Like I said, we’re still working, but I think it might be a good idea to let his family know.”
“No, he’s…” Buck clenches his teeth. He tries to remember what happened when Eddie got shot. He remembers crying, remembers talking to Chris, but did the doctor say this? Did she look like this?
“You have to save him.” Buck stumbles like he’s going to grab her collar, then falls short. “Please.”
“I understand,” she says. “We’re doing everything we can, but his body sustained a lot of trauma.”
She has no idea how much trauma Eddie’s sustained.
“He’ll be okay,” Buck snaps. “Just go back in there and save him!”
Maddie rubs Buck’s shoulder and says something to the doctor before she disappears. Buck can’t hear – he can’t hear anything but the rush of blood in his ears. He steps away and stares at his phone.
“Buck?” Maddie asks. “What’re you doing?”
“Calling Chris,” he says.
It’s not something he wants to do, or even realizes he’s doing until he answers Maddie’s question, until he’s got the phone pressed to his ear, and it’s ringing. Until he hears Chris’s very tentative, “Hello? Buck?”
“Hey Chris,” Buck says, and it drives all the air from his lungs. “I, hey… are…” He didn’t plan this. He probably should’ve called the Diazes, or… god, he doesn’t know how to do this. “Listen, uh… something, ah, something happened.”
“Something?” Chris asks, and Buck tries not to balk at his impatience. “What do you mean something?”
“It’s about your dad.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Chris’s voice is wispy when he finally answers, “What about him?”
It hits Buck suddenly. Before it was all about keeping Eddie alive, about making sure he didn’t leave Buck – finding a reason for him to come back, but now… now he gets it, why Eddie needed to hear Buck say it. Because Chris didn’t say it back. Because…
Buck should’ve said it.
God, he should’ve said it.
Buck trembles but tries not to let it bleed into his breathing. “He’s hurt.”
“Hurt… h-how?” Chris asks.
Buck tries not to think about the blood stains – the dwindling light in Eddie’s eyes. “Well, you… you know how… his flight—Chris. His flight… crashed.”
“What?” Any composure Chris had shatters. “Wh-what’d you—crashed? Crashed how? He was in a… like, like a plane crash? Is he… what’d you—Buck? Buck, where is he?”
“In surgery,” Buck says. “He’s…”
“But he’s gonna be okay?” Chris asks.
Buck hears all his own panic reflected back at him in Chris’s voice. “He’s alive, but… uh, is your abuela there?”
“Why?” Chris asks, more frantic. “Why do you need to talk to her? Wh-why are you—no, but, but I didn’t… he’s gonna be fine, though, right? You guys… you guys are always fine.”
“I need…” Buck feels himself falling apart. God, it’s been almost five years since the shooting, and he feels like nothing’s changed. Like Christopher is still that little kid, and he’s still the idiot who can’t admit what’s staring him in the face. “Can you just get your… abuela? Please, Chris?”
“I’m not getting her.” Chris’s voice wobbles a little. “This is stupid – I don’t even know where she is.”
“I need you to find her,” Buck says. “Or-or Ramon.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Buck snaps, and it’s not crying – it’s worse, it’s yelling, “because he’s not fine, Chris. He hasn’t been fine since—”
Maddie snatches the phone out of his hand and gives him a heavy stare as she puts the phone to her own ear and turns away. “Hi Christopher, it’s Maddie, Buck’s sister. I’m sorry, Buck’s… very upset right now. The doctors are working as hard as they can on your dad, but they think it might be nice if you and your grandparents were—oh, oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Sweetie, it’s—it’s okay.”
Buck drops his head into his hands and his back hits the concrete wall of the hospital. “Fuck.”
Bobby comes over to sit next to him, and his hand on Buck’s shoulder is enough to wrench the sob out of him. To wrench and wrench until that’s all there is. Bobby says nothing, just keeps his hand on Buck’s shoulder until Maddie comes back, and Buck stares at her through tear-blurred vision.
“Was he okay?” Buck asks. “I didn’t…”
Maddie smiles. “He’s upset, but I think that’s to be expected. Helena said they’d get the first flight out, so they’ll probably be here sometime tomorrow.”
“I shouldn’t have called him,” Buck says. “I can’t believe I—”
“No one’s expecting perfection, here, Buck,” Bobby says. “Just breathe and talk to him when he gets here. That kid loves you, and he loves Eddie, and I think the truth is everyone’s a little mad at everyone right now.”
“Eddie’s not,” Buck says, kind of hollow. “Eddie’s just mad at Eddie.”
Bobby sighs. “Well, you can talk to him about that too, when he wakes up.”
When. Buck clings to it. Clings to it and jams it into his chest until it’s gnarled along every chamber of his heart. When he wakes up.
“Oh, and…” Maddie extends Buck’s phone back to him. “Uh, Tommy called while we were talking, by the way.”
Buck takes his phone, then pulls up Tommy’s number, and types, I get this isn’t the best way to do this but I’m in love with Eddie. Have been for a long time, so I’m ending this thing with us. Sorry.
And then he blocks the number because he doesn’t have the energy for anything else.
~
Time passes in eruptions. There’s nothing, and then there’s everything. People keep talking to him, but their voices are warbled, impossible to make out, and he just keeps nodding. That seems to be all anyone needs from him.
There’s a doctor, saying they need to let Eddie’s body rest before they can do the surgery they need to do to make him more stable. They let Buck go see him – he’s pretty sure they’re assuming they’re married. And Buck hasn’t heard anyone correct them – then again, Helena isn’t here yet. He gets the sense she’ll make sure they know.
Still, he stares, kind of blank at Eddie, with a tube taped into the side of his mouth, to a machine that’s breathing for him because he can’t do it. It’s like the shooting all over again, except Eddie is paler, and there are bandages on his face. Except there’s more than one wound, and if he pulled the covers off Eddie he’d see more tape than skin.
“Eddie,” he finally makes himself say. It’s loud in the stillness. Loud enough that Buck almost flinches.
He watches the vitals monitor for a few seconds before he grabs Eddie’s hand and thumbs the line of his knuckles. It’s something he’s thought about, but never let himself do before.
He brings Eddie’s hand to his forehead and lets out a breath. “I really need you to wake up, Eddie. I don’t even…” His eyes hang on Eddie’s face, and wills with everything in him for Eddie to open his eyes, even though he’s sedated. Even though it would be a bad thing if he woke up right now. “I…” the words tremble at the edge of his tongue.
Eddie wouldn’t hear it – and they’ve come this far. He needs to see Eddie’s eyes when he says it – he needs to know he can hear him. But if…
No. He won’t go there. He can’t go there. He pulls Eddie’s hand to his mouth and kisses it. It’s not as cold as it was when he grabbed it beneath the plane, but it’s not warm – it’s not Eddie. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it, but I need you to get through this so I can,” Buck whispers. “I need you to come back.”
He’s not sure how long he stares at Eddie like that, and eventually, the world silvers out in favor of half-made dreams. Doctors yelling. Planes falling. Guns firing. And in his dreams, he hears the words a thousand times. I love you.
Of course I love you.
I’ve always loved you.
But Eddie doesn’t answer. Eddie doesn’t say anything. And in every dream, in every striation of reality – there’s no Eddie.
“Buck.” Maddie lays a hand on his shoulder.
He jerks awake, looking, kind of bleary at Eddie still pale and unconscious on the bed. He looks frail. Eddie’s not supposed to look frail. Buck shakes his head and turns to find Maddie.
“Hey, the… Chris is here. They won’t let them back here while you’re…”
“Oh.” Buck glances at Eddie again. He’s still holding his hand. He doesn’t think he let go, even while he was sleeping. “I, yeah, okay.” His voice is hoarse, and he eventually peels his hand away from Eddie’s.
I love you , he thinks. Wake up so I can tell you I love you.
They walk back into the hallway, and there they are. Helena, Ramon, and Chris, who’s got wide eyes that go immediately to Buck. Maddie awkwardly stands behind him, probably because she’s thinking about the phone call.
Everything floods in at once. Chris is here . Eddie’s kid. The kid that Buck has helped raise. The kid that he has loved like his own for so long – he’s standing in front of him after all this time, and there’s this crushing urge to hug him, but then, he doesn’t. He doesn’t because there’s everything else on the heels of it. And it’s all so loud.
Buck should apologize. There’s a thousand things he needs to say, to do, but all he manages is an awkward nod at the three of them.
“Hi Buck.” Helena offers a thin smile. She’s frazzled, like she can’t figure out which part of Buck to look at, so instead she goes to Maddie. “And I don’t believe we’ve met?”
“Maddie Han.” Maddie’s all bright as she extends a hand for Helena to take. “I’m Buck’s sister.”
“How’s he doing?” Ramon asks.
Buck nods. He’s not sure what he’s nodding at, but he nods anyway. “He’s uh… he’s stable.”
Stable. Fuck, Buck doesn’t want to think about Eddie as stable. He doesn’t want to think about Eddie in terms of vital signs or oxygen sats or numbers that can crash – because Eddie’s vitals already crashed. Buck closes his eyes, but all he can see is Eddie beneath the plane, the blood on his lips, all he can hear is the pleading way he asked Buck to say he loved him.
“Why don’t we go back first?” Helena turns to Ramon, folding her hands across her middle. “We can see if we should wait a little bit before Chris…”
“What do you mean?” Chris asks. “I want to see him now.”
Buck opens his eyes and tries to ignore the slice of his thoughts. He can’t figure out who he’s madder at – has no idea what’ll come out of his mouth if he opens it.
Helena kneels down and squeezes Chris’s face gently. “You’re going to see him, sweetie – we just want to make sure he’s well enough first, okay?”
“Buck says he is,” Chris says, and his eyes are glittering. He’s looking at Buck like nothing’s changed, like the past three months never happened – like they’re back on the same side, and for a moment, they are, but then, meeting Chris’s eyes has breath tearing through his chest like shrapnel.
“Y-yeah,” Buck gets out. “I-I think he’s… i-it should be fine.”
“We’ll be quick,” Helena says.
She’s still keeping them apart – Eddie is on a fucking ventilator and she’s still keeping them apart. But she doesn’t wait; she just walks away, and Buck can’t get out the words to stop her. Then, it’s just Buck and Chris and Maddie, and Maddie’s shifting from foot to foot, watching Buck, and Chris is watching Buck.
Everyone is watching him, and all Buck wants is Eddie – all he wants is for Eddie to come out here and put a hand on his shoulder and tell him that he’s enough, to say the right thing and make all of the noise in his head go away.
But Eddie’s not here.
Chris is here. Eddie’s kid. The kid that Buck has thought, for so long, is his kid. The one he has loved since the day they met. The one who will be his if Eddie never walks out of that room.
But that reality, that life, without Eddie – it’s never felt this close, and Buck doesn’t want it.
“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Chris asks.
Buck stares at him and tries to come up with the right words. It’s always been so easy with Chris. But now, there are a thousand things between them, Buck doesn’t know how to get to him. He doesn’t know what to do – feels his breath coming too hard when he looks at him now. “I… I hope so.”
He’s not saying enough. This is Christopher. One of Buck’s favorite people. The person Eddie cares about more than anything in the world, and Buck can barely look at him. And he hates himself for it.
“Buck…” Chris is struggling too. He’s grown so much in just three months – he looks so much older, but then, he doesn’t.
He’s a kid. He’s still a kid. Buck closes his eyes. Even if he did want to step in, even if he felt like he should lecture Chris on his behavior over the past three months, this would not be the time for it.
“I…” Buck barely gets a breath out. “I need some water.”
He walks away. He leaves Chris standing there, and, thankfully, Maddie steps in and kneels to take his shoulders. Maybe that’s the only reason he leaves, or maybe he’s never been cut out for this. He thinks of telling Chris when Eddie was shot. Thinks of Chris hugging him – how Chris comforted him. He made Chris console him, Chris, while his dad was in the hospital, Chris, who was nine years old, and now…
Maybe Chim and Hen were right – maybe he is an outsider, maybe he can’t take care of Chris without Eddie.
Noise clatters through his head. Shoes squeaking over linoleum. Muted whispers and far-off laughter. Flickering from the fluorescent lights. It builds, like it’s going to tear his skull open, like it’s going to crash down on him like the plane Eddie was supposed to fly to El Paso.
“Hey, Buck,” Hen’s voice startles him free of the pressure. “You alright?”
Buck doesn’t know when, but he must’ve gotten a bottle of water from the vending machine. It’s in front of him, and he’s holding a bottle he doesn’t remember paying for. “No.”
She sighs, and he can tell he’s trying to coax him into looking at her, but he doesn’t. He just stares at the bottles behind the glass in front of him. “Wasn’t a real warm reunion with Christopher.”
“Yeah.” Buck glances down at his bottle. In his periphery, Maddie’s kneeled down, still talking to Chris. “I don’t… I don’t really know what to…”
He has to stop talking. Because he’s going to start sobbing in this hospital corridor and everyone’s going to think he’s insane. And he feels like it.
Hen gets a hand on his arm and tugs him into a side room. A place set up for privacy – privacy to grieve, but Buck doesn’t want to grieve.
“If you need to break down,” Hen says carefully, “you can.”
Buck’s doesn’t think so. He’s not sure he can get the tempest of heat and rage and tears from his chest to his mouth without them tearing him apart first.
“Eddie changed his will so I’m Chris’s legal guardian if he…” Buck can never quite get to that last part.
Hen snaps back like he’s electrified her. “Oh. Wow, I didn’t… when?”
Buck laughs, and oh, there some of the tears are. “After the well, when he… but he didn’t tell me until he got shot. That’s kind of crazy, right? That he didn’t tell me?”
“A little,” Hen hedges. “And wow, well, no wonder you’ve been having so many feelings about all this – I had no idea.”
“I love Chris,” Buck blurts out, and finally, he looks at her. “I do, but I… I need Eddie to wake up. I need him to come back because I’m… damn it.” He swipes at his eyes.
Hen lets out a long breath, and she just watches him. There’s something about her that’s calming in ways that even Bobby isn’t sometimes. Like whatever comes out of her mouth is going to ground you so completely in reality it’s scary. “You’re going through a ton of emotions right now, Buck.”
“I can’t,” Buck finally chokes it out. “I can’t do it without him, which is… just great because I’m not allowed to do it with him.”
“I don’t think you struggling right now, in one of the hardest moments, means you can’t be there for Chris. I don’t think it means you can’t do it.”
Buck turns to her and grabs on. It’s too much, but he can’t pull back. “Wh-what if I don’t want to, Hen? I don’t want to be here if Eddie isn’t, okay? I don’t want to be anywhere if he isn’t…”
“But like you just said, you love Christopher.”
“I…” Bile rushes up Buck’s throat. He didn’t say it back. Why didn’t he just say it back? And even though he shouldn’t, even though it’s all wrong, he whispers, “I love Eddie.”
“You love Eddie, and…” Hen doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even act like she heard what he said, or if she did – it hasn’t changed anything, “…you love Christopher.”
“Of course I love Christopher,” Buck says. “I love the idea of being… of… I want to be there for him. I’ve wished he was my kid, felt like he was, but…” Buck shakes his head. “I don’t think I realized it, and I know Eddie didn’t, but he essentially told me, I could have it – I could finally have this thing I wanted so much, but only if I lost everything . Only if…”
Hen’s taps her nails on the sleeve of her sweater. She always wears good sweaters – cozy sweaters, like the only teachers Buck actually liked back in elementary school. “Have you ever told him that?”
“No,” Buck says. “No, I… we just never talked about it, and now, Eddie was on that plane to try and get Chris back, and I’m pissed. I’m pissed, and I know I shouldn’t be.”
She smiles at him. “That just means you care. Parenting isn’t easy, Buck – you know Karen and I have had all kinds of ups and downs with Denny.”
“I just…” Buck’s voice goes so small. “I was so pissed when you guys called me an outsider. Because I feel like Chris’s family, but I—I want to be with Eddie. And I don’t know what it looks like if he’s not there, and Chris deserves better than that – Eddie deserves better than that…”
“You don’t have to have it all figured out right now,” Hen says. “Right now, Eddie’s alive. Whatever comes next will come, but for now, it’s okay to admit Chris needs his dad.”
Buck lets his eyes drift back to Chris. His heart squeezes with that familiar affection before anger blurs everything. “I need him too.”
She sets a hand on his shoulder. “And that’s okay.”
Eventually, Helena and Ramon take Chris back. Buck paces and waits and watches. They come out eventually, and Chris looks at him. Buck stares – sees, in his mind, going over to Chris and hugging him. Sees him saying all the right things. Sees him being there for him like Eddie would want. But he doesn’t move.
He doesn’t move when the doctors say they’re going to do another surgery. Time passes. Days, maybe. And Buck knows he should go home. Everyone keeps telling he should go home, but he can’t – Hen said to live in the present, but he’s clinging to it. Waiting to figure out if the world is going to keep turning or fall apart.
Maddie gets him to eat a little, and people keep trying to talk to him, but it’s like he’s watching everything in greyscale. They finish one surgery, and then there’s another one, and everything blurs together.
They say they’re done, eventually. They say it was a lot. Buck catalogues the injuries in his head, tries to keep track of them. It’s a lot.
It’s always a lot.
He doesn’t talk to Chris. Or Helena or Ramon or anyone. He feels like he’s trapped in that moment beneath the plane with Eddie’s eyes on him, begging him to promise him something that means Buck’s okay letting go.
But I’m not, he thinks.
They let him back to see Eddie again, and he looks mostly the same. There’s a little more color in his cheeks, but they’re still bruised – still pale. But even like this, looking at Eddie bleeds the color back into the room. Because even if machines are breathing for him – he’s not gone.
“Eddie,” Buck says, and it’s loud – loud and hoarse. He’s not sure when the last time he said anything was. Maybe days ago. Or maybe he just hasn’t said anything and meant it. “I know what I’m supposed to do, for you, for Chris. I know you want me to just… take Chris and love him and do all the things you did, and-and I-I guess I will. Maddie always says that’s what people do when they have to, but that won’t be me . Because there is no me without you , and I don’t—and that’s not the person you entrusted your son to…” He sucks in a breath, and grabs Eddie’s hand again, fighting with the choke of tears. “So you gotta come back, because—because even if I wasn’t going to fall apart without you, we need you. Because no version of me will ever be enough for Chris, just like your parents aren’t enough for Chris. You think I can just take your place? That anyone could take your place? We can’t. Chris needs you. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you – he needs you to be his dad. I need you to be… I need you. I need you to come back so I can love you. So we can be a family, with Chris, so you can show me how to do this right. So I can love you like I have wanted to since I met you. Please, Eddie.”
“Buck…”
Buck jerks his head up to find Chris, small in the doorway, and he shrinks a little further at whatever’s on Buck’s face. “Shit, h-hey, Chris. How long were you—”
“Just now,” Chris says. “Sorry, they said no one was back here right now.”
Buck sighs. “Guess I slipped by the nurse, but don’t, uh… you don’t need to apologize for it.”
Chris’s crutches clack over the linoleum as he comes in and sets them against one of the chairs beside Eddie’s bed, before he sits down. He’s still, besides the blinking. He watches Eddie, reaches, sort of tentative, then pulls his hand back. His face goes splotchy, stained with patches of red, and his mouth scrunches – the same way Eddie’s does when he’s fighting tears.
Nothing Buck says will make this better, but he does want to. And that, at least, is a pulse of relief. He does love Chris. Even if losing Eddie will break him, will change everything – even if Buck doesn’t know how to be Chris’s parent, Buck loves Chris.
Eddie wasn’t wrong about that.
Finally, Chris lays his hand on the hand opposite to the one Buck’s holding. “Dad…” A few tears spill down his cheeks. “Please.”
Buck looks away, letting his eyes drift back to Eddie. There’s nothing around his neck - no St. Christopher medallion. It broke a couple years ago, and Eddie kept meaning to get another chain, but he could never settle on one. So it ended up tucked into his dresser – it’s probably still there now. Buck’s thought about it a lot over the past few months, about yanking it out and dangling it in Eddie’s face. About saying you’re supposed to fight to get back to him, so fight .
He didn’t, though, because being mad at Eddie has been so hard because he’s been mad at himself. He’s hidden it well, but Buck knows every line on his face, and the anger on his face steals Buck’s breath some days. Just a glimmer of an expression, and it’s gone.
Never at Chris, never even at Helena and Ramon – just at himself.
“It’s my fault,” Chris says into the dead air.
Buck raises his eyes. There’s anger, but mostly, there’s just grief. Grief for the past three months. Grief for all of this. “It’s not your fault.”
Chris’s jaw tenses when he glares across at Buck, tears still glittering in his eyes. “Then why do you look like you hate me?”
Buck flinches. “I don’t—o-of course, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you… I’m just mad because he’s hurt. Because I miss him. And right now, I don’t know how to feel anything other than that.”
A sob climbs out of Chris, and he finally lets himself squeeze Eddie’s hand. He keeps fighting the tears, keeps pursing his mouth just like his dad. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the person you need to say that to…” Buck hedges, then keeps going, “Tell him when he wakes up.”
Chris keeps his eyes on Eddie. “Because he’s gonna wake up.”
“Because he’s gonna wake up.”
~
Buck’s half asleep when Eddie starts choking. For a moment, there’s this overwhelming sense of panic. His body goes so cold he could be a corpse, and then prickles with heat, and then he sees Eddie’s eyelids flutter.
“Hey!” Buck calls, and he almost can’t get it out from the wall of hope in his chest. “Hey – hey, I think he’s…”
Nurses are in there almost immediately, pulling the tube out of Eddie’s mouth, readjusting, checking signs, but Buck’s just watching Eddie’s face – watching until his eyes open, then close, then open again, locked onto Buck.
Buck says nothing as the nurses do their jobs, as they talk Eddie through waking up. As Eddie answers a couple questions and winces through them. He stands there, shaking and trying not to scream. No one even asks him to leave, maybe because he’s so still they forget he’s there.
In fact, one of the nurses whirls and jumps when she nearly runs into him. “Oh, you’re—oh, um… sorry! Well, seems like he’s doing good. I’m going to go see about getting him a room outside the ICU so everyone can come back at once.”
Buck just nods, nods for too long, even after they leave, just keeps nodding, like he’s caught in a loop, until Eddie says, “Buck?”
And it’s all bruised and broken like the rest of him, but it is the best sound Buck’s ever heard.
He throws himself back to Eddie’s bed and grabs his face and almost chokes on the words, “I love you.” Almost chokes before he slams his mouth on top of Eddie’s and kisses him, pulling back in these choppy, gasping increments to say it again, “I love you.” He kisses him again, and Eddie’s mouth unfurls into a smile beneath it. “I love you. I love you.” He kisses him until he hears a sharp intake of breath, and he pulls back and searches Eddie’s face.
“Hell of a greeting,” Eddie says.
“God, Eddie…” Buck bends over as far as he can without putting pressure on Eddie and wraps his arms around him and pulls Eddie against him. “Thank you – thank you for not dying. I’m sorry I didn’t… I love you, and I should’ve said it, but I was so scared of losing you – it was selfish, I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.”
Eddie gets an arm around Buck and sets it between his shoulder blades. “I get it,” Eddie says, “and hey, it worked.”
Buck slips back to kiss him again, and it’s slower, so he can taste it this time. There’s no copper taste of blood. It’s just Eddie, and his warm, soft, gorgeous mouth.
“Dad?” Chris’s voice is wobbly at Buck’s back.
Buck peels himself off Eddie and faces Chris, who comes in slow.
Eddie’s eyes flick to Buck once, then they land on Chris. “Chris – what’re you doing here?”
“You were in a plane crash,” Chris chokes out, just short of exasperated. “My dad was in a plane crash.” The exasperation bleeds into something more erratic. “So I had to be here.”
Eddie pulls his hands together, scratching at one with the other. “Yeah, guess so – where are your grandparents?”
“I’m sorry,” Chris says in lieu of an answer, then takes a couple steps. “I’m really sorry.”
“Are you actually sorry?” Eddie asks. “Or are you saying you’re sorry because you were scared and feel bad?”
Chris shudders under the question. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I wanna come home, and-and I love you, so can I please… come home, I mean?”
“I love you too, and of course you can,” Eddie says. “I told you that you could come home whenever you wanted to.”
“Good,” Chris says, and there’s another long, awkward silence, before finally Chris gets close enough for Eddie to hug him. And he does. He hugs him hard enough that his hands shake, even as one curls around the back of Chris’s head. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, bud,” Eddie says, and they stay like that – and Buck watches them, watches them and fights with the fresh well of tears in his eyes. Until finally, Eddie pulls Chris back to look at him. “We gotta talk about this eventually, though.”
Chris drops his eyes, and shuffles with his feet for too long. “You coulda come and got me. I thought you were gonna come and get me.”
Eddie breathes a laugh. “Wasn’t really getting that impression from all the uh-huh’s and whatever’s.”
Chris shrugs. “Yeah, well…”
“So you knew you were being a jerk,” Eddie tries, “and you were just waiting on me to call you on it?”
Chris huffs, then frowns at him. “No, it’s not—I mean, I don’t know. I just sorta figured you would come get me!”
“Did you want me to?”
“Maybe.” Chris really is a teenager. Buck isn’t sure he’s ever seen the full extent of it, all huffy and angsty about something Buck is only sort of understanding. “I was still mad at you.”
Eddie chuckles, then rubs at his eye, or tries to, all the movement has screwed with one of his IVs, and Buck takes the opportunity to get closer, to untangle the cord and skim his fingers over Eddie’s skin as he checks the tape.
“I think maybe we both gotta learn to talk about this stuff more,” Eddie says.
“I guess,” Chris concedes. “So because it was both our faults, I don’t have to be grounded?”
“I won’t ground you, but that doesn’t mean we’re done talking about this.”
Chris frowns for another minute, but then he scrunches his mouth again and throws himself around Eddie again. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too.” Eddie lets out a tear-stained breath. “Where are your grandparents?”
“They went to get some food,” Chris says. “So, um… were you guys kissing?”
Eddie shoots Buck another look, and there’s this shared, almost comical panic between them, before Buck ventures a “yeah.”
“Did you break up with Tommy?” Chris asks.
Buck almost chokes. “Yes, yes, I did.”
Chris considers this, then nods before stepping back. “I’m gonna go see if abuela and abuelo are back yet.”
“You, uh, you broke up with Tommy?” Eddie asks once he’s gone.
Buck stares at him for several, prolonged seconds. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“I…” Eddie winces, Buck’s not sure if it’s from pain or embarrassment. “I guess I never really thought that far into my deathbed confession.”
“Oh?” Buck asks. “Feeling guilty? You gonna take it back? You want to take it back so mine and Tommy’s relationship can flourish?”
Eddie gives him a lidded stare. “Considering it.”
Buck leans down and kisses him again. “Too bad. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Good,” Eddie whispers against another kiss.
~
They eventually get Eddie into a room that everyone can be in. Which is terrible for Buck, because there are people here, and kissing the man with multiple crush injuries who needs his vitals checked every thirty minutes is “bad form” according to Chimney.
Eddie likes it, though. Eddie wants to be kissed. It’s very obvious because he keeps looking at Buck, all doe-brown eyes and pouty mouth. It takes the day, but eventually, the Diazes take Chris back to the hotel, and Buck gets Eddie to himself, at least until one of the nurses comes in to administer meds and check his vitals. Again.
Buck spends the first couple of those kissing him, but there really is only so far he can go when Eddie’s like this. So eventually, Buck pulls back and lets out a long breath.
Eddie laughs, then winces, because he’s still recovering. “What?”
“What do you mean what?”
Eddie raises his eyebrows, and it’s judgy, it’s pushy, and it’s so… fond, that Buck can’t get mad about it. “I mean you’re sighing like you do when you have something to say.”
Buck picks at a frayed thread on one of Eddie’s sheets. “I was mad… at Chris. Like, really mad. And, you know, you put me in your will to take care of him, and I just… I couldn’t see past myself. I couldn’t see past the idea of losing you.”
“Well,” Eddie says, then grabs Buck’s hand and pulls it away from the thread. “I did kind of create an insane situation for you, here.”
“I love him,” Buck says.
“I know.”
“I love him, and I love you, and he hurt you, and I was furious, and I was supposed to be comforting him and I just… I didn’t know how, Eddie.”
Eddie plays with Buck’s hand – it’s all idle motion, these thoughtful, pawing touches. It lights Buck’s insides up, before eventually, Eddie says, “I put a lot on you with the will. Being a parent is… it’s complicated. You just witnessed me let him not speak to me for three months because it was so complicated.”
Buck laughs. “Doesn’t it scare you? That I… you didn’t see me, Eddie, I almost yelled at him – I was a jerk.”
Eddie’s shoulders drop. “You’ve been losing your mind over me doing nothing about how he was acting for months.”
“Are you blaming yourself for this?” Buck groans. “Eddie, don’t make me smack you.”
“I’m…” Eddie sighs. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just providing you with context – if you’re gonna be his parent, then you’re going to have all kinds of feelings, and yeah, you gotta learn to put them aside, but that’s not easy, and we’ve never really… talked about it.”
Buck’s heart flutters in his chest. “Am I?” he asks. “Gonna be his parent?”
“I mean…” Eddie’s smile dimples one of his cheeks. “Do you wanna be?”
“Yes,” Buck says. “I do, but I… I don’t wanna let you down.”
“You’re never gonna let me down, Buck,” Eddie says, “you’re gonna fuck up, just like I’m gonna fuck up, but I meant what I said, I… I love you. And you’re never going to let me down.” He cuts his eyes away and flexes his fingers against the sheets. “Kinda how you knew I wouldn’t let you down, and that’s why you didn’t say it.”
“I love you,” Buck says, on instinct, and Eddie laughs until Buck kisses him again. “I was being selfish, though.”
“A little,” Eddie concedes against Buck’s mouth. “But hey, selfish isn’t all bad, and… the point is, I trust you with my kid, with everything, and if you fuck up, well… you made sure I’m still around to call you on it.”
Buck grabs his face and kisses him again, and he holds it – revels in the way Eddie’s lips move against his. Revels in the fact that he’s going to get to do this for the rest of his life. Revels in the way Eddie’s mouth tastes as good as it looks.
“I—oh, oh my god.”
Buck tilts his head towards Helena, who is standing in the doorway of the hospital, clearly not gone for the night, with a hand over her mouth.
“Mom,” Eddie says, kind of flat. “I thought you guys had left.”
“I, we…” Helena is fighting for her life, and finally, she spits out, “you’re—is this safe? You’re still injured, and you’re… should he be touching you like that?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “It helps with the pain.”
Helena sighs. “So, I mean, I had a feeling, but it’s—so you two?”
“Yeah,” Buck says, then winces and offers an apologetic glance to Eddie, who doesn’t seem particularly bothered.
“Well, that’s good, I am… happy… if this is what… if this is you,” Helena says, then glances back to Ramon, who is also in the doorway, looking pale enough to warrant a blood transfusion of his own.
“Thanks?” Eddie half-asks.
“I just know this is going to be confusing for Christopher,” she starts in, and Buck has to hold himself to keep from audibly groaning. “It’s like I’ve always said, he needs something safe, stable, and this feels…”
“Mom, I don’t care how it feels,” Eddie says. “I don’t want your opinion on it. You’ve had Chris for three months. You barely let me talk to him, certainly didn’t encourage it, so I’m not convinced you’re even after a stable environment for him. So yeah, Chris is my kid. He’s staying here, with me, and if he sees me kissing Buck occasionally, well, I think he’ll be alright.”
Buck has to fight the urge to fist bump, and he does, but he’s pretty sure the look on his face is really smug, because Helena’s already indignant face gets worse when she looks at him.
“You should go,” Buck says seriously, “because I’m about to kiss him again, and I feel like that might hurt your feelings.”
Helena sputters, then shakes her head, then sputters, until Ramon gives Buck and Eddie one last withering look before he tugs her out of the room.
“Well, that felt good,” Eddie says, “but I get the feeling I might regret it later.”
“I love you,” Buck says, and leans towards him, a breath from his mouth.
Eddie grins. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I do.”
He leans in, before another voice announces, a little too loud from the hall, “I’m glad you told her that. I was waiting for you to tell her that.”
It’s Chris.
Buck slides back, and despite the pang of frustration at having to wait, he says, “Me too.”
“I got hit by a plane and you two are ganging up on me already?”
Chris smiles, and Buck smiles back, before Chris asks, “Am I supposed to leave so you can kiss my dad again?”
Buck considers lying, considers making nice and putting in the effort, but there’s going to be a lot of time for that. Later. “I would appreciate it.”
Chris laughs. “See you weirdos tomorrow.”
“See you,” Eddie says.
Once he’s gone, Buck glances at Eddie, half-flinching. “Bad parenting?”
Eddie lifts an eyebrow. “Only if you don’t kiss me again.”
So he does.