Chapter Text
Buck sat alone in the dim quiet of his apartment, elbows on the table as the overhead light flickered once before giving in, settling into that familiar dull glow that made everything look a bit washed out. The newspaper lay open in front of him. He hadn’t meant to keep staring, but his eyes stayed fixed on the page.
There he was on the front page—bloodied, leg pinned under the fire engine, face caught between pain and disbelief. The article went on calling the actions of the civilian bystanders heroic, praising Captain Nash for his bravery at facing off against the bomber, and claiming Buck’s survival a miracle.
Yet all Buck felt was emptiness sitting somewhere in his chest.
The blast still lived in his body. If he let his mind drift, he could find it again—the moment the ground gave way, the tilt of the world, and the rush that came before the silence. One second, he was in the safety of his fire truck, doing the job, and the next he was flat on his back, ribs aching, smoke clogging his throat, and thinking that maybe this was how it ended for him.
The photo made it look almost neat, like something that could be summed up in a single shot. But Buck remembered the noise, the heat, the grit between his teeth, and the quiet that followed when everything finally stopped. He ran his thumb along the edge of the table, the wood biting faintly into his skin, the pain grounding him. Everything else felt blurred around the edges, like time had moved on without him and he was still trying to catch up.
The apartment was too quiet. He missed the racket of the firehouse, the teasing, the calls, and the dumb arguments over who’d made the coffee too strong. He missed the feeling of belonging to a team. Even the sirens, which once meant adrenaline and focus, now made him flinch. It only made the silence in his flat feel heavier than any explosion.
Silence filled every corner of the room until it started to feel smug, like it was waiting him out. He missed the noise, Eddie’s dry humor, Chim’s stupid puns, Hen’s calm voice keeping everyone from losing it. Now there was only this stillness that didn’t know what to do with him.
He didn’t cry.
He hadn’t, not once since it happened. He just sat there, staring at the paper, trying to find some trace of who he’d been before. Maybe if he looked long enough, he’d remember how that version of him had felt—steady, capable, and most importantly, needed.
His gaze drifted up toward the bathroom. He thought about a shower, then let the thought go. He couldn’t remember if he’d brushed his teeth. Maybe he hadn’t. The idea of water touching him made his skin crawl. The tsunami had left him with this reflexive panic, like his body hadn’t caught up to the fact that he wasn’t drowning anymore.
Every splash sounded like chaos.
And underneath it all, guilt still circled like a familiar current. The moment he lost Christopher’s hand would never stop replaying. The sweat, the way the world went silent for one awful heartbeat, and then the certainty that he’d failed. He’d saved him, in the end. Got him to safety. But it didn’t erase the split second where he’d lost him, or the sound of Eddie’s voice breaking when they were reunited.
Chris was fine, safe and happily living his life, but Buck’s mind kept rewinding to that single point in time and getting stuck there.
What if, what if, what if.
The clock on the wall ticked on indifferently, marking time he couldn’t feel passing. Everything else felt suspended.
And then someone knocked.
It startled him so completely that the mug tipped, just enough for the tea to slosh. It had long since gone cold — Buck had all but forgotten it existed. He blinked, trying to shake the fog out of his head, and looked toward the door. Getting up felt like an event now, but luckily his leg did not give up on him, which nowadays is counted as a small win in his book.
He wasn’t expecting anyone. Definitely not him.
“Chief Alonzo,” Buck said, blinking like he might be hallucinating people now. “Uh… sir. Wow. What a surprise.”
Alonzo raised an eyebrow like Buck had just said the sky was blue. “Surprise? You’ve been the talk of the department lately, Buckley. I figured you’d expect me eventually. May I?”
“Yeah! Of course.” Buck stepped back too fast, knocking his heel on a pair of shoes he had left lying around. “Come on in.”
He flicked the light switch on out of habit, instantly regretting it when the brightness stabbed at his eyes. He squinted, pretending it didn’t bother him, and tried to look like a functioning adult who didn’t spend afternoons staring in the dark.
“Can I get you something?” he asked, heading for the kitchen before he could think better of it. “I’ve got water, coffee, and, uh… tea. Too much tea, actually.”
Alonzo’s mouth twitched in something like amusement. “Tea would be great.”
“Any preference?” Buck opened the cabinet, revealing an absurd spread. “I’ve got English breakfast, herbal, jasmine, oolong, green, mint, earl grey, assam—”
“Earl Grey,” Alonzo interrupted with a soft chuckle. “And I see you’re prepared for any tea-related emergency that might hit Los Angeles.”
Buck rubbed the back of his neck, feeling heat creep up his ears. “People get opinionated about tea. After one too many fights with girlfriends, I just gave up trying to win that fight.”
The kettle took forever, which was probably a blessing, because he needed the time to breathe. It wasn’t every day that the Fire Chief appeared in your kitchen like a ghost out of protocol. When the water finally boiled, Buck poured a cup and handed it to Alonzo, before taking his own. The herbal steam brushed his face, grounding him just enough to pretend he wasn’t on edge.
“So…” he said, too breezy to sound natural. “What brings you here?”
Alonzo didn’t answer right away, just set a small box on the counter. “I’m here to thank you, on behalf of the LAFD,” he said. “And to congratulate you. Captain Cooper recommended you for promotion. Said you more than earned it.”
Buck blinked. “Promotion?”
“Lieutenant,” Alonzo replied, as if it were obvious.
The word hit harder than expected. Buck stared at the box, then lifted the lid like it might vanish if he moved too quickly. Inside, the badge gleamed against the dark velvet. He actually gasped — quietly, but enough that it made Alonzo smile. The metal caught the light, sharp and sure, and for a second it didn’t feel real.
It felt like something that belonged to someone else.
“I… I didn’t do anything special,” Buck said. “I just… I mean, anyone would’ve—”
Alonzo cut him off, not unkindly. “Anyone would’ve done what? Risked their life with metal rods in their knees and blood thinners in their system? During medical leave?” He shook his head. “No, Buckley. Most people wouldn’t have even been there, let alone taken command.”
Buck’s throat tightened at the certainty in the Chief’s words.
“You saved Captain Cooper,” Alonzo continued, voice even and quiet. “After stabilizing a fire engine in the middle of a tsunami, you kept jumping back into the water — over and over — pulling people out and getting them onto the roof. And even after the current swept you off that engine, you still managed to get yourself and the others to safety. That’s not just brave, Buck. That’s rare.”
Buck looked down at the badge again. His thumb brushed over the engraved letters. Lieutenant.
“And you didn’t stop there. You led people through flooded streets, getting them to the VA hospital. Thirty people, Buck. Thirty,” Alonzo said, his voice softer now. “You might not think you deserve this, but I do. And so does everyone who saw what you did.”
Buck hadn’t planned on crying. He didn’t even feel it start — one moment he was standing there, trying to find something to say, and the next the edges of his vision blurred. The tears came slowly and silent, warm against his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to hide them. Alonzo didn’t look away. He just nodded once, as if allowing Buck this moment.
Like maybe it was time Buck stopped apologizing for surviving.
“You deserve the promotion and much more,” Alonzo reiterated, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like there’d never been a doubt in his mind. “Which is why we’ve decided to award you the Medal of Valor.”
For a moment Buck thought he’d misheard him. “Wait—the Medal of Valor?” It came out half a breath, half a question, his voice catching on disbelief. His head was still spinning from Lieutenant, and now this?
Alonzo smiled, like he’d been waiting for exactly that reaction. “The Medal of Valor,” he repeated, slower now, pride clear in his voice. “Not something we hand out lightly, Lieutenant. It’s awarded to those who, in the face of personal risk, act with conspicuous heroism — with full awareness of the danger. It’s the highest honor we give.”
Buck didn’t even know how to react. The tears had already dried in uneven tracks along his cheeks, and his hands were still wrapped around his mug like it was the only steady thing left. Hearing it phrased like that—the risk, the choice, the heroism—did something strange to him. It made him feel a little less like a survivor and a little more like maybe he’d actually earned this recognition.
“Thank you, Chief,” he said quietly, the words trembling but true.
Alonzo gave a small nod, and for a second it looked like he was the one trying not to blink too fast. “No, Lieutenant,” he said, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It just hung there between them, heavy but calm, like something important had settled. Alonzo’s cup made a soft clink against the counter when he set it down, and the sound seemed to close the space between ceremony and conversation.
“Now,” he said, voice shifting back to business, “I understand there are… complications with Captain Nash. Luckily, Captain Cooper extended an invitation to Station 136. However, they’ve taken some losses, and are in the process of rebuilding. Until then, there’s an opening at Station 133 under Captain Mehta.”
Buck frowned, the words taking a moment to click together. “Issues with Bobby? I thought the brass didn’t want me back after the injury.”
Alonzo’s brow lifted, faintly puzzled. “The brass? No, Buckley. The department was ready to reinstate you as soon as you were cleared. Captain Nash was the one who didn’t think you were ready.”
The sentence drifted in and took its time sinking, slow and heavy, until it settled somewhere deep. Alonzo kept talking, maybe not realizing how his words had affected Buck. “At the time, I trusted his judgment. But even after Cooper’s report—after everything you did—he still refused to bring you back to the 118.”
Buck blinked. Once. Twice. The room tilted a little, as the edges blurred. “Did he now,” the words came out thin, too evenly.
He nodded once, slow and deliberate, more for himself than for the Chief. “Well then,” he said, “you can tell both Captain Cooper and Captain Mehta I’ll take them up on their offers.”
There wasn’t any bite to it. No anger tucked between the words. Just that quiet, steady edge people get when they’ve already made peace with something they shouldn’t have had to.
“Guess Station 118 wasn’t the fit I thought it was,” he added, his gaze dropping to the badge still sitting on the counter. The light caught on the metal, too bright against the dull kitchen air.
And that was it.