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It starts as a joke. As something to cheer Buck up and because it also fulfills Fr. Brian’s assignment for him to seek joy. Perhaps the good Father didn’t mean for Eddie to consider his advice homework, but he found it easier to accept it if he took it up as an obligation. (Says a lot more about him than Eddie was ready to explore now.) He’s been aware of these popular memes for a while now, despite Chris and Buck’s popular belief that Eddie wasn’t wholly indifferent to what was ‘on trend’ or considered cool. He didn’t see the need to pander to the whims of whatever society deemed ‘popular.’ There were a lot of societal and familial pressures (expectations, demands) that Eddie was getting sick and tired of trying to live up to. He was only interested in meeting the pressure he put on himself to be a better father, a better example of what it meant to be a man than he'd had as a kid. Oh, sure, Ramon had taught him to be a good provider. But if there was one thing the wreck of his marriage with Shannon had firmly driven home to him, it was that being a good provider wasn’t the be-all, end-all of being a good father and husband. And he should’ve known that already. Sure, they had a lovely house growing up and rarely wanted for anything, thanks to Ramon’s hard work. But Eddie’d much rather have had him around and present in his life than the benefits of monetary security.
He knows from watching Athena, Michael, and Bobby that it's possible to healthily balance both providing for and being there with your family, to realize that perhaps for Ramon, working was an escape while affording the appearance of being a good parent. Honestly, Eddie could easily believe that of his father. After all, that was the exact same thought trap he had fallen into when he re-upped his enlistment after learning of Chris’s diagnosis. What else was that but an attempt to escape while keeping up appearances?
And why wouldn’t he think that was the most important thing to do, instead of talking to his wife and ASKING her what she NEEDED of him? He was mimicking the behavior that had been modeled to him all his goddamn life, after all. A man takes charge; a man makes the decisions for his family without input from anyone else because a real man always knows what’s best and would never second guess a decision once made.
It took him leaving Texas for Los Angeles and finding the 118 before the blinders started to come off fully, and Eddie fully started to see how deep the toxic masculinity he’d slowly been choking on ran. That didn’t mean he was completely rid of it. Or was done with making mistakes. If anything, his tendency to still royalty fuck up his life at the drop of a hat was as comforting as it was aggravating. In a roundabout way, it reminded him that he was still human and not some robot pretending. Although he did wish he could pick far less destructive and devastating reminders.
For example, he didn’t need a near-death reminder whenever he questioned his importance in others’ lives or the value of his work. Eddie would like to get through a year, maybe two, but he knew better than to be greedy now without feeling like he or someone close to him had just done a vine-worthy reenactment of It’s a Wonderful Life
So yeah, the whole thing started as a joke. At least, that would be his excuse if (when) questioned about it all. But in reality, the whole thing came about thanks to one Maddie Buckley-Han’s determination to get him to learn from some of his past mistakes instead of just stubbornly repeating them in new and exciting ways.
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Eddie’s meeting with the realtor had gone well, all things considered. Buck had inserted himself right in the middle of things with the same panache (and clumsy grace) he’d relied upon every other time Eddie found himself on the edge of being overwhelmed. Buck was surprisingly reliable, despite how flaky he sometimes came across as on first and often third impression. It took Eddie a little longer than he’d wanted to admit to realize that Buck hid behind others’ assumptions that he was just a dumb big jock as much as Eddie hid behind what was expected of him. It was easy to accept that with Buck, what you saw was what you got because he so often wore his heart on his sleeve – Eddie forgot that sometimes honesty was just as good of a tool for disguise as lying outright. Buck had a better poker face than many folks gave him credit for simply because they expected him to be terrible at hiding his true feelings.
Besides, who’d expect someone who often reacted like an exposed nerve to be capable of hiding anything? With Buck, it was react first, think hardly ever, or at least that was the impression he left others with. Eddie knew better, or at least he should. Buck only ever truly acted without thought when he was dysregulated, which usually happened when he felt as if he was losing his family. The lawsuit was a prime example of Buck’s spiraling over the fear of abandonment, leading him to overreact without thinking things through first. Unfortunately, the incident was usually thrown back in Buck’s face to prove he was too immature to think before acting.
Eddie knew differently. If anything, Buck overthought everything until he was tightly tied up in metaphorical ribbons and had nowhere to turn. Honestly, it was a wonder he didn’t fall flat on his face more often from all the tripping over himself Buck did.
So, it goes without saying that Eddie should have realized that Buck being so supportive was just his way of hiding how he felt. It’s a realization that doesn’t come to him until he’s home alone one Saturday, surrounded by boxes holding half of his possessions, and there’s an unexpectedly stern knocking on his front door. It wouldn’t be Buck; if anything, he’s gotten even more lackadaisical about using his key and letting himself in ever since Eddie announced his intention to move back to Texas, almost like Buck was trying to startle him into staying put. Or as if he thought he could startle himself awake out of a nightmare.
Puzzled by the knocking, anyone from the 118 would’ve just texted him that they were coming over so that he could’ve had the door open and ready for whomever it was; Eddie abandoned his current round of packing to answer the door. Only to find himself face-to-face with one Maddie Buckley-Han. One particularly aggrieved-looking Maddie Buckley-Han.
“Maddie,” he couldn’t help but peer around her, wondering if Chim was with her. A quick scan showed that she was alone, further compounding Eddie’s confusion. He couldn’t honestly recall the last time he spent any one-on-one time with the older Buckley sibling. If he was being candid with himself, that was a prospect he’d purposefully avoided for as long as he’d known her. And now, the choice had been wholly taken out of his hands.
As if that wasn’t an accurate commentary on the sorry state of affairs that had become his life in the last seven months.
“Hi, Eddie; sorry for dropping by so unexpectedly,” Maddie responded quickly, taking his shock in stride as she strode right past him and into his living room. Or what remained of it after his current packing spree. Again, if he were being honest, there hadn’t been a lot of progress made in the packing department. Eddie was trying to drag his feet as much as he could when it came to getting ready to move back to El Paso. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he needed to make the move because he very much did. He wasn’t looking forward to what he had to leave behind. Eddie’d truly made a family for himself and Christopher here in Los Angeles, one that, he had thought, suited them better than their blood relatives back in Texas. In Los Angeles, they were both allowed to grow into themselves; they’d been granted some grace and freedom to be themselves. Or maybe that was just Eddie, whereas Christopher, as a child, had always had those privileges.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Helena couldn’t always see past Christopher’s diagnosis to acknowledge him as the person he was. She was far too keen to baby him and insisted that Christopher couldn’t do things that were well within his reach despite his cerebral palsy. Helena was always eager to claim that Eddie was holding Christopher back or dragging him down, yet she couldn’t see the damage her short-sightedness caused.
“Please, come on in,” he gestured uselessly at the empty air in front of him where Maddie once stood. Eddie didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm, knowing that with a Buckley on a mission, such subtleties, or lack thereof, often when overlooked. He turns, shutting the door behind him to find her standing in the middle of his mess, looking just as lost as he’d wish Buck would.
“So you’re actually doing this,” she mumbled, hugging herself, seeming to forget all about him for a minute. Her moment of distraction gave him some time to take in her attire and realize that for the first time since Eddie’s been aware of her, Maddie wasn’t impeccable put together but instead was wearing a slightly oversized hoodie that looked as if it belonged to Chim and sweatpants. He’d never known her to be so dressed down as wearing sweatpants around anyone who wasn’t Chimney or Buck, let alone outside the house. He remembers Buck telling him that clothing and appearing as put together as she could was a type of armor for Maddie. For the long years of her marriage to Doug, her appearance was often the only thing she had control over, and as long as she had control of that, she could convince herself that everything else would fall into place.
“You’re really going to go through with this stupid plan!” Maddie suddenly rounded on him, barely raising her voice in anger but making her sentiments known regardless. For a brief second, Eddie’s impressed by how far she’s come in her recovery from what Doug had put her through, that she feels comfortable and confident enough to express herself so clearly to him, a man whose temperament is virtually unknown to her. But that doesn’t last long before Eddie grows annoyed at someone else trying to tell him what he can or cannot do, ultimately coming in between him and his son. Never mind that he might have a daydream or two of Buck doing just that. Only in said daydreams, Buck tells him to go to Texas, collect his son, and drag him back home, kicking and screaming if he has to.
“Yes, I’m going through with this ‘stupid plan’,” Eddie retorts, the air quotes audible through his clenched teeth as he tries to hold onto his temper. “And I don’t see why it’s any of your business what kind of plan I come with to stay in my son’s life! Frankly, Maddie, you barely know us.”
“It’s my business when what you’re planning affects my family.” She hissed back, dropping any pretense and allowing Eddie to see precisely what she was thinking in her expression.
Eddie took a physical step back, confronted by the depth of her concern and fear. Maddie groaned in frustration, uncrossing her arms to wipe her sleeve-covered hands across her face. She drew in a deep, exaggerated breath, letting her shoulders rise as she tried to calm herself.
“Sorry, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she murmured through her clasped hands before finally pulling them away from her face to look him dead in the eye.
Abulea always told Eddie he had the loveliest big brown eyes she’d ever seen. Aunt Peppa would tease him that they were dewy cow-eyes, and it was impossible to say no to them when Eddie leveled their full power at anyone. Looking at Maddie right then, Eddie knew precisely what they meant.
“You don’t need me bursting in here trying to shame you into staying,” she continued flapping her arms about and talking with her hands in a manner so reminiscent of Buck that Eddie had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide the very, really pang in his chest he felt at that comparison. “It's just…” she paused there, wringing her fingers even as the cuffs of her borrowed hoodie thoroughly covered them.
Eddie recognized it now. It was the very same ‘Effin Bird hoodie he’d gifted Chimney as part of the 118’s Secret Santa gift exchange the year the Buckley parents first visited LA and blew up Buck’s entire understanding of his childhood. When he’d seen that pen and ink drawn pelican head with the words ‘get some fucking popcorn, it’s shitshow time’ written underneath, Eddie found it beyond fitting for what had happened after the Buckley parent’s visit. He figured if anyone could relate to the distinct feeling of watching a car crash in slow motion and wanting to wrap their respective Buckley sibling in warm blankets and keep them safe from anything that might harm them, it would be Chim.
“ I just don’t want Buck to lose contact with another person who means so much to him.” Maddie finally finished, looking at him with imploring brown eyes. And godddamnit, he thought it was hard to resist Buck’s blue eyes. Maddie was indeed giving him a run for his money. Eddie had to wonder if the puppy eyes were something the Buckley siblings came by naturally or if it was something that she’d taught Buck or perhaps vice versa. Or maybe it was one of the few legacies that they had from Daniel.
“Nothing is saying that we're going to lose contact just because I moved to El Paso to be closer to my son, Maddie.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing when I gave Buck the jeep so he could get the hell out of Pennsivainya. But it didn’t work out that way, not because that’s what I wanted but because that’s just how it happened.” She finished sounding more than a little defeated.
“Maddie,” he breathes out with his own frustrated sign, “this is not the same thing. No one in Texas will be monitoring my mail or cell phone or any other method of communication preventing me from keeping in touch with Buck or anyone else here in LA.” Yet, even as he tried to reassure her, Eddie had a sinking feeling in his gut that she had a right to worry. He couldn’t help but remember what it was like when he came back from Afghanistan and tried to keep in touch with his own unit but was slowly, but surely, discouraged from doing that when reaching out resulted in a PTSD flashback once or twice. Of course, if, at the time, he had had more support, things might not have been so severe.
“Isn’t, though?” She questions him, not bothering to soften the blow her words caused to spare his feelings. “I know I don’t know your parents, and I don’t have a right to judge them,” she pauses there, stuffing her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie and hunching her shoulders. “But showing up out of nowhere to take your child away because they don’t trust your ability to be a good parent sounds an awful lot like something my parents would do, and I know for a fact that they weren’t good parents. Especially not to Buck, not when it counted.”
And, god, didn’t that comparison hit Eddie like a load of bricks. He’d always known that his parents weren’t fair in their assessment of him as a father simply because of their disappointment in him for becoming a teen father in the first place. He’d thought his evident dedication to his son would have changed their opinions. But having their recent behavior so starkly pointed out to him and then compared to the Buckleys. Certainly, that put it all in another light. Interference wasn’t the only way to fuck up one’s child; sometimes caring to the point of suffocation was just as bad, if not worse, as ignoring their very existence.
He was still processing that idea when Maddie decided to move on and drop another stunner on him.
“Did Buck ever tell you how he kept in touch with me even when I couldn’t respond?” She asked, folding her arms again and plopping herself down on the one available cushion left on his couch between the packed boxes and stacks of things that still needed to be packed.
“No,” Eddied admitted honestly and gave up any thoughts he might’ve harbored about regaining his afternoon or ushering Maddie out of his house (and hair) in a timely fashion. For one thing, he knew sisters, and for another, he knew Buckley siblings, and once they settled in, it was hard to shift them. Since Maddie was both, he suspected she wouldn’t leave until she was ready.
“With all of the talking he does, he doesn’t really say much about it,” Eddie explained, kowtowing to the inevitable and settling in crisscross applesauce on the floor in front of the occupied, with packed boxes, armchair. He leaned back, head knocking against a box and the arm of the chair to meet Maddie’s gaze, overcome with resigned tiredness just when he thought he couldn’t feel any more exhausted by the whole process in front of him.
The pained grimace that flashed across her face said quite a bit in that moment. Eddie wondered what those years had been like for her. He remembered what being deployed was like for him, the difficulties with communicating with Shannon and being unable to be there as Chris grew up. Seeing him change from a baby to a toddler, then to a little boy via the small screen of a laptop or an iPad through a surprisingly shoddy Wi-Fi connection, even though military intelligence never failed to come through using that exact same connection. An interesting duality.
He wasn’t a rampant conspiracy theorist, not like Chim could get, but he also didn’t believe in coincidence either. And it was a little bit too coincidental how often his or anyone else’s calls to their families got cut off due to a shoddy connection just to be a coincidence. Then again, that also sounded paranoid, so perhaps it was good that he got out when he did. Although he would’ve preferred a less traumatic exit.
“Yeah, that’s Evan all over,” she admitted with a sigh. Eddie noted the deliberate name-switch.
These days, Maddie was pretty good about calling Buck by his chosen name, only reverting to ‘Even’ when it was serious, and she needed her brother to pay attention and listen to her. She used his given name the same way Eddie did, and he liked to think that was the proper way to go about things. It was wrong to call Buck by his given name all the time as if it was normal. Forcing him to claim the name his parents gave him after everything they’d done to him, ignoring the identity he’d forged for himself. That was worse than ignoring who Buck was; it was trying to erase him like shaving a square peg to make it fit into a round hole.
“He’s always been a talker but never one to share how he feels; I’ve forgotten that over the years,” Maddie admitted, leaning forward and hugging her knees a little. “it’s an easy thing to forget; though because Buck’s always so open with what he chooses to share.”
“And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? He doesn’t always choose to share everything.” Eddie commented. Maddie shared a knowing look with him at that.
“I tried my best to encourage him never to hide his feelings, but it’s hard when it's one against two, and the two are your parents. I was a kid, too; for all that, I was older, and I certainly didn’t expect to end up parenting Buck where they were just uninterested.”
And Eddie got it; he, too, had been parent-fied by his folks as the oldest child and the only boy. Some of that resulted from a mixture of societal norms and culture in which his parents had been raised and then raised their kids in, in return. But a good chunk of it was because Ramon wasn’t there, and Helena wasn’t interested in parenting alone. Instead of looking for another adult relative to help her, she relied upon her son. An interdependence that Ramon allowed to foster because he couldn’t be seen as having an unruly house. And Dios, no wonder they were both so eager to push the agenda that Eddie was a terrible father.
“But I was fighting not just their indifference when it came to Buck, but their determination never to discuss anything!” She declared with an explosive breath, drawing Eddie’s attention back to her. “It wasn’t like I wanted to box up my dead brother's things and hide away any trace of him! I didn’t make things better by keeping that stupid promise never to tell Buck about Daniel. Should’ve broken that one years ago. And then I only made things worse by giving him the means to escape Hershey and saying I’d go with him after getting caught up in the moment. Then Doug had opinions on that, and I leave him what amounts to a Dear John letter instead of finding my courage – and… Well, I can’t blame him for being picky about what he decides to share, now can I.”
“Maddie, you’ve got to know he understands why you didn’t leave with him.” He felt compelled to reassure her.
“He understands now,” she clarified, “but he didn’t then. All he knew then was that I chose to stay behind with a guy that he’d never trusted and always had a bad feeling about. Feelings that he stood by even when everyone, me included, dismissed his very valid concerns because he was just a kid and couldn’t understand.” And while Maddie wouldn’t say it, Eddie could practically hear her thinking it – what sanctimonious bullshit, and it sounded remarkably like Buck. “At the time, he was furious with me, and I didn’t blame him. I was pretty sure that stupid letter was the last time I’d ever have a chance to talk to him.” She paused there, overcome. Eddie reached over and put a hand on her ankle, giving it a gentle squeeze of support. From what he knew of Buck, some touch would be appreciated in a moment like this, but too much would be overbearing. Working on that instinct, he kept his hand there, waiting for Maddie to indicate if she did or didn’t welcome it. She looked down at his hand and smiled. He took it for the gratitude it was meant to represent. “Then he started sending postcards to the emergency department I worked at ‘cause he didn’t want Doug intercepting them. If not for him deciding to do that, Buck and I wouldn’t have had any contact after he left Hershey. And I wouldn’t have known where to go when I finally was brave enough to leave.”
“What are you getting at here, Maddie?” Eddie asked, realizing she had a point but was too tired to figure it out on his own. That was a lie; he knew her point and wanted to hear her say it. For some inexplicable reason, he felt he needed permission to do what Eddie knew needed to be done.
“Eddie,” and her tone was remarkably like Abulea gently scolding him for ‘forgetting’ to do his homework back in high school. It was oddly soothing to hear that type of concern from someone other than his grandmother. Or his Captain. Or Buck. It was nice to know that he mattered and was worthy of care like that.
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Through the course of that Saturday afternoon, they worked out a plan. Regretfully, that plan still involved him spending some time in Texas, but it no longer required Eddie to pack up his whole life and move it there immediately. He’d at least be able to buy himself some time, a little bit of breathing room. And he could live with that for now.
Maddie was surprisingly supportive and encouraging as they plotted together, and Eddie found himself falling into the same teasing patterns of behavior that he had with his sisters. He knew that if he ever had the chance to introduce her to Sophia or Adriana, he’d create an unholy trinity that would wreak havoc on his and Buck’s lives, and they’d love every second of it. The first step in their little plot was to enlist Isabel's help.
It hadn’t been challenging to convince Abuela to help him; apparently, Helena had been just as controlling about how long she got to see her great-grandson as she’d been about Eddie’s. Finding that out infuriated him. His mom had no right to…. She had no right to monopolize Christopher the way she’s been doing. Isabel was just as sick of her daughter-in-law’s behavior and had decided to let her ire be known. Eddie wouldn’t want to be in his father’s shoes for the next few days. It wasn’t often that Abuela lost her temper, but when she did, it was always better not to be in her way. Ramon was about to get a swift reminder of why.
But that wasn’t for him to worry about. He had something more important to worry about before he left LA. Spending an afternoon plotting with Maddie, staring at that sweary bird hoodie he’d gotten Chimney so long ago, he was reminded of a set of postcards from the same online shop. At the time, Eddie couldn’t say what compelled him to buy the booklet, probably to try and get the discount on shipping or something like that, but now he was glad he did. It might be questionable of him as a parent to send his son postcards featuring various swear words on them. Still, he felt the severity of the situation he found himself in called for some unconventional methods. Abuela was less likely to judge him for his choice of vehicle for reaching out to Christopher than his mother would be, and that knowledge alone was enough to spur him into proceeding with his mission. If he had to start talking to his son again using swearing bird postcards just to spite his mother, then goddamnit, he’d fucking do it.
He'd do fucking anything to have Christopher in his life, happy and healthy and whole, and that should’ve been obvious to anyone with eyes. Why did his parents – his mom specifically – refuse to see that? It would always confuse him when it didn’t outright break his heart.
That didn’t matter anymore, and Eddie would just have to remind himself of that fact as often as he needed to. What mattered now was what Christopher thought of him as a father and what those who truly cared for him thought. He’d made a family for himself and Chris in LA. While it wasn’t as large as the extended Diaz family in Texas, it did include his sisters, tia Pepa and Abulea. Still, more importantly, this family loved them both unconditionally. Nobody got to tell him it wasn’t enough or take it away from his son.
Therefore, with just about two months left until his self-imposed ‘moving’ date, Eddie found himself scraping all of his previous preparations, leaving his house in disarray, a state of half-packed, still-lived in chaos that would’ve aggravated him another time but felt ideally suited for this state of limbo he’d now put himself in. Instead of finishing packing or even starting to unpack, he’d spent his remaining time at 4995 S. Bedford St writing. Specifically writing two different sets of postcards for two very different yet equally important recipients. By the end of that month, he’d already mailed a collection off to Isabel for her to dole out to Christopher during their now; Ramon encouraged visits around all the other extracurricular activities Helena had enrolled her grandson in.
In the quiet hours of his lonely house, Eddie found it shockingly easy to write everything he wanted to say to Christopher but hadn’t gotten the opportunity. Once he started writing, the words flowed out of him, and he soon found himself with a neat pile of postcards for Abulea to deliver to Christopher during each visit. Eddie figured he’d ease his son into the idea of his father cursing around him, and some might say cursing at him, by starting the sequence of notes off with a postcard of Santa Monica Pier. He thought that would be a good reminder of all the fun they’d had together in LA and the significance of their life on the West Coast.
The picture of the Pier had a vintage vibe, and he started his note on the back with the simple statement “wishing you were here,” which could be found on many kitschy touristy postcards. Just because it was somewhat cliche and overused didn’t make it any less true. Everything else followed from there, with Eddie reminding Chris that he still supported his choices and was fine with Chris continuing to be mad about everything. Still, he now thought it would be better for them both if his son were mad at him from somewhere closer than 801.6 miles away. And as his father, it was Eddie’s right to decide that. Especially since he’d already done his time messing Chris from some seemingly impossible gulf of distance that didn’t look like he’d ever be able to close, and he was fucking done being needlessly separated from his child. He was Christopher’s father and wouldn’t be denied the honor of watching his son grow up anymore by anyone, not even Chris. If Chris had a problem with that and didn’t want to come home, fine. Eddie would come to him.
It took two postcards for Eddie to explain the whole Kim fiasco, with multiple tear stains and aggressively scratched-out words, to his satisfaction. He wasn’t trying to excuse himself. He’d been wrong to seek out her company, not just because he was seeing Marisol at the time but because of Kim’s resemblance to Shannon. Then, much like when he’d been dating Ana and trying to make himself, hoping, he’d feel something more for her because she was so good with Christopher, Buck made him reevaluate what it was he was doing with Kim. It was a swift kick back to reality and a sorely needed one.
Kim returning to the house role-playing as his late wife had never even been on his radar. For one reason, he wouldn’t have expected anyone to do that, regardless of how closely they resembled someone else, dead or alive because that was just insane. And secondly, he was under the impression that he’d made it clear to Kim that he was done with seeing her. But then there she was, looking like Shannon’s ghost had come alive, and Eddie was swept up into the crazy before he knew how to process it. Eddie had never thought to replace Shannon; he didn’t want that, but he could understand how it might look like that from an outsider’s perspective. He’d just wanted to feel closer to her. As mixed up and twisted as that was, his last real conversation with her before she was dying in front of him, she’d asked for a divorce after explaining that she didn’t know how to be someone’s wife. His wife, specifically.
Even when they were fighting hard enough to be practically at each other’s throats, Eddie’d still believed that they loved each other and were on the same team. Evidently, he’d been wrong about his marriage long before Shannon ran away from him and their son.
Before long, he had a set of five postcards ready for Isabel to give to Christoper at her discretion. He sent those along with a few blank ones for Christ to reply with, if he felt up to it, off to Texas before he could second guess himself or lose his nerve. Then, he got to work on writing more in whatever moment of solitude he could snatch for himself. Trusting in Maddie’s advice that the best thing he could do for himself and Christopher was to keep communication open, even if he didn’t get a response from Chris right away.
The messages he writes for Buck are a little harder to come by, simply because Eddie never allowed himself to question Buck’s place in his life and what it could truly mean. At least, not completely. Oh, he prodded the edges of it back when Buck had been struck by lightning and left in a coma, but even then, he couldn’t look at the idea head-on. Eddie had only ever allowed himself to see him as his partner at work and Chris’s Buck, then as Chris got older, their Buck outside of work. Buck was just Buck as far as the Diaz boys were concerned. And that was as far as Eddie allowed himself to examine things. He sat down at a deserted kitchen table with a few choice bits of card stock featuring foul-mouthed fowl. He started to organize his thoughts about the over-grown golden retriever of a man masquerading as a best friend and firefighter.
It was shocking how unsurprised he was by everything he wanted to say to and about Buck once he started.
By the time he was ready to leave, he had sent nearly ten postcards ahead of him to Texas and left the same amount behind in Maddie’s hands to be delivered surreptitiously to Buck by whatever means she could manage. It felt nearly impossible to leave Buck outside on the curve by his house, knowing that he might or might not be coming back and recalling the painfully personal things he’d written down late at night on his own.
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There was something weird going on with Eddie; Buck was positive about that. The man was even cagier than usual about his plans concerning his upcoming move back to El Paso. Buck was fairly certain it wasn’t the thought of living within the same city limits as his mother making Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in deep thought (as his jaw clenched with a side of constipation) every time the topic was brought up. That was one of Eddie’s ‘I-have-a-secret-and-I-don’t-like-keeping-it’ faces,’ Buck was beyond curious to know what kind of secret Eds could be holding onto now. But it would be better to let Eddie tell him when he was ready, too. Especially since Buck had forced his friend into admitting he was looking at homes in El Paso before he was ready to share his plans.
And, god, how Buck wishes he’d turned over that tablet to discover that Eddie had been surfing some porno site in his kitchen instead of some realtor’s listings. He’d been prepared to handle teasing Eddie about his choices in porn and the unconventional choice to go looking for spank bank material in his kitchen of all places, but you know, to each their own. Everybody has their kinks, and Buck certainly wasn’t going to be the first to go casting any stones at any glasses house, considering where he usually kept his ring cutter. But it would have been fun to tweak Eddie’s nose about it, that’s all.
Seeing the house listings had taken the wind out of Buck’s sails in more ways than one. It had been easy to stay positive on Eddie's behalf about Christopher’s eventual return home, knowing that his father was still living at 4995 S. Bedford St. in Los Angeles. Being confronted with Eddie’s determination to no longer miss out on time with his son and the stark realization that that meant the little bungalow that Buck saw as his own home just as much as it was the Diazs’ would no longer be occupied quite literally floored him.
But then he quickly resolved to be the most supportive best friend possible because that was exactly what Eddie needed at this time. He did not need to know about any internal freak out Buck may or may not (he was most definitely not! – and he’s a fucking liar) having. Buck had always known and admired that Christopher was numero uno on Eddie’s priority list, and that was how it should be. Buck would never ask Eddie to change that. It was one of the many things about him that Buck thought made Eddie an excellent parent, even if the man couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see it for himself. He’d always tried to ensure that Christopher could never question Eddie’s love for him. Even now, with their relationship blown up seemingly beyond repair, Chris still knew that Eddie would do anything for him. He’d let him go with his grandparents to Texas, after all.
Buck could never confidently say the same about his parents. It wasn’t until now, in his early thirties, that he could say with certainty that he finally had that sort of support system. Thanks to the friends and family he found and created for himself. And he was so goddamn grateful that Christopher already had that sort of security in his life. He’d already seen how having such a secure foundation allowed Chris to grow into a confident young man, sure in himself and his abilities despite the limitations society and others often tried to put on him because of his cerebral palsy. There would be no useless foundering to try and figure out if he even met something to anyone as he grew up because he never had to question his dad’s love for him. It was quite literally unconditional.
What hurt Buck was that Chris didn’t seem as certain of his place in Buck’s life despite his attempts to make sure he knew how much he means to Buck. He didn’t know if Eddie ever told Chris about the will and who he’d pick to be his son’s legal guardian if the worst ever happened. Still, Buck spent every moment around the kid, reminding himself that he was just a backup plan, not Christopher’s other parent. He loved that boy so much that it often took Buck’s breath away just to think about how immense his feelings were. If his younger self could see him now, that well–meaning douchecannoe wouldn’t have been struck dumb with lightning by it all. (And since Buck knew how that felt, he was equally qualified to joke about it and make that claim).
He’d wished that Christopher had felt safe enough with him to come to his place after walkin’ into his home and coming face to face with his mother’s doppelganger. Especially since he’d once felt comfortable enough to run away to Buck after learning that his father was dating again. But, perhaps, his friend Buck wasn’t enough of a safe place for a crisis on such a scale as the one Chris had walked into.
Buck didn’t believe Christopher thought so little of him, at least not when the brain goblins weren’t at full volume. Instead, he thought that the younger Diaz’s decision to call his grandparents and spring a surprise move to Texas on Eddie came from nothing more than thoughtless teenage spite. While Christopher might not know all of the particulars behind Eddie’s strained relationship with his grandparents – Helena in particular – he did understand enough to realize that it would hurt his father to bring them into things. Buck was willing to bet that, at the moment, that was all Chris was concerned about – hurting his father back.
A very reactionary and spiteful move for a normally level-headed, kind-hearted kid who’s already been through so much. In other words, a perfectly normal teenage reaction aside from the fact that taking him a couple blocks away or, at most, the next town over, Chris ended up eleven hours away from his family and friends in a different state entirely. So, yeah, perfectly normal.
Besides, Buck suspected that Chris might have started to regret his choices but stubbornly (like his father) wasn’t willing to admit it.
And Buck, well Buck, had been prepared to be supportive of Eddie – even though he thought he shouldn’t have let Chris leave, especially not with the way Helena was grinin’ like the cat who caught the canary – but he hadn’t been prepared for how empty his own life suddenly felt without the coolest Diaz he knew around.
A strange, yet not so strange, realization since he’d made so many other recent self-discoveries and was in a relationship that helped him to express and explore this new truth about himself. But then that didn’t last long, just like all the other meaningful relationships Buck’s had in his life – when he saw them building a pathway towards the future, all the other person saw was a pathway to the door. And then, predictably, he spiraled into a cloud of flour and yeast-fueled baking spree to cope, only snapping out of it when confronted by a tablet full of Texas reality listings (not porn, and ugh fuck, porn would’ve been so much better) and an upcoming appointment already made with a realtor.
And now he was on the countdown clock to losing his second favorite Diaz (a total lie. Both father and son were tied for number one, not that he could ever tell them that) to motherfucking Texas. The state had become this giant black hole where all of Buck’s hopes and dreams went to die. He just knew that once Eddie was there, with Christopher, he’d never get either of them back. It had been bad enough when Isabel had moved there during lockdown. Now, with both Christopher and Isabel there, Buck knew he couldn’t compete for – not that he really wanted to – Eddie’s attention. They were two of Eddie’s favorite people and most important family members, whereas Buck was just a best friend and coworker. He wouldn’t begrudge Eddie for slowly forgetting about him and everything else back in California.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t mourn that Eddie would inevitably forget all about him. Quietly, too himself, as he’s already done enough making everything all about himself. What with all the baking and foisting off the finished products onto his family, then needing to constantly be coached out of texting or otherwise reaching out to, you know? He didn’t need to exhaust anyone, especially when they all had much more pressing concerns to worry about.
So the countdown was on, and Eddie was acting all squirrely. He’d stopped asking Buck to come over for help with packing or talking about the upcoming move. When asked by anyone at the 118 or in their little collective family, he’d just answer with a vague comment about how things were progressing on schedule and that he was looking forward to seeing Christopher soon. But who fucking says things like ‘on schedule’ in real life, other than Buck when he had a clipboard and was deliberately being a brat just to see how far he could get away with pushing everyone else around. Buck would’ve thought it was Eddie’s weird, obscure way of trying to flirt with him if it were any other situation. Going by the sometimes sparkly gaze and small grin, the older man would flash his way nearly every time he gave that answer.
But that was just crazy talk. Just because Buck had recently discovered he was bisexual, it didn’t mean that Eddie would be interested in him like that. Especially since all evidence Buck currently had clearly indicated that Eddie did not like guys. He shouldn’t start projecting just because he now had a whole new segment of the population open to him, and his friendship with Eddie was the closest relationship he’d ever had aside from the one he had with Maddie. It wasn’t fair of him to objectify Eddie, even though objectively, Eddie was a gorgeous man. And, there was a distinct possibility that Eddie might’ve been one of those hot guy’s asses he’d check out just thinking it was normal before realizing it meant a whole lot more for him. But thinking about whether Eddie was or was not attractive was just another way of making things about him – even if it was contained within Buck’s head.
With less than a month left to go, Eddie started to distance himself from the rest of A-shift during downtime on long shifts, sitting somewhere off to the side, always on the peripheral of the conversation with his nose buried in either a study book for the El Paso Fire Department or one of the many adult puzzle books he’d gotten obsessed with as a means to fill the empty hours without Christopher around. He hadn’t completely isolated himself, but it was clear that a distance was growing between Eddie and the rest of them. And while everyone else appeared to take it in stride, Buck was quietly trying not to freak out.
It wasn’t like the 118 couldn’t work without Eddie, it just, wouldn’t be the same without him. To think that seven years ago, Buck had been so pissed off and insecure about potentially being replaced on the rig after walking into work and finding a new guy there. A handsome, competent war hero (and hello, to the birth of Buck’s hitherto unknown competency kink) that immediately made easy friends with everyone, whereas Buck had had to work hard to earn their respect and most days, still had to work at getting them not to see him as the house’s frat boy younger brother who was constantly one mistake away from screwing everything up. Then flash forward to today, and Buck was finding it difficult to imagine getting up for work every morning and not seeing Eddie at the station house ready to have his back no matter what it was their shift threw at them.
Instead of soaking up every moment of his remaining days as the focus of whatever attention Eddie could spare, Buck analyzed everything his friend was doing, trying to figure out why he was so gosh darn twitchy. Why would Eddie need to meet with Cap again five days before doomsday? And what about that meeting could result in both men walking out of Cap’s office smiling and shaking hands as if the most earth-shattering thing wasn’t about to happen to them all? None of it made any fucking sense.
Then, before he was ready, he was standing outside of the bungalow at 4995 S. Bedford St., everything that made it radiate with the cozy, warm glow of a home, ripped away from it and tucked up in a U-haul trailer attached to the back of Eddie’s truck. It was drizzling out, that nuisance state of participation that couldn’t decide if it would become actual rain or stop altogether. It is a perfect counterpoint to how Buck feels about saying goodbye. Eddie didn’t call him over until after he’d loaded everything up, cutting down his last opportunity to see his partner to something almost nonexistent. While Buck couldn’t begrudge Eddie's eagerness to get on the road and start the long haul to Texas and his son, he still couldn’t help but feel cheated. Buck tried to make up for that feeling by hugging Eddie as close to himself and for as long as he thought he could get away with as the man’s very best friend and then gifting him with some baked goodies to snack on while driving. Along with a loaf of chocolate chip zucchini bread that he was entrusting Eddie to deliver to Isabel safely.
With one last shoulder squeeze and the soft caress of a calloused thumb over Buck’s collarbone, Eddie turned away from him. Then Buck blinked his eyes to clear them of some drizzle that had fallen in there and opened them to discover the tail lights of Eddie’s truck at the end of Bedford, singling for the turn out of the neighborhood and towards the on-ramp for the freeway.
Just like that, another important person in Buck’s life found it ridiculously easy to leave him behind without a second thought.
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“Hola mi angel,” Isabel greeted her great-grandson as he made his way up to the front porch of her small one-story ranch. Ramon followed behind Christopher with his school bag, reminding her so much of a similar scene several years ago when her niño Eddito had just moved to Los Angeles, and she would watch Christopher for him.
“Hola.” Christopher replied, sounding like the sullen teen he’d become since his birthday in September. Isabel took his attitude in her stride. After all, he was not the first sullen Diaz boy she’d raised. Compared to the other two, Christopher was a walk in the park on a sunny day. Eddie had always just needed someone who he felt was safe to be himself around, and for a while, Isabel had been able to provide that for her sweet Eddito. But Helena was too proud to accept help, and Ramon too stubborn to admit when something was wrong.
“Mamá,” Ramon greeted her stiltedly, still stinging over the dressing down she’d given him a month and a half ago. The emotionally charged phone call she’d shared with her Eddito, listening to him try and choke back his tears and appear all self-composed as he told her about Christopher’s continued reluctance to speak with him and his fears that it was encouraged by his parents. She would’ve done anything to help him and had wished he’d called her sooner. So, when he told her about his plan and asked her to start passing along his postcards, warning her that some of them would have inappropriate language, she found herself agreeing without thinking about it much.
Honestly, Isabel didn’t care about appropriateness or not. She understood Christopher was probably exposed to sixty inappropriate things before his homeroom class started in the morning. A thought that reminded her of the quote from Alice in Wonderland
Why sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast
In this day and age of the internet and smartphones, ‘impossible things’ have just morphed into ‘inappropriate things,’ and they were always at everyone’s fingertips. Isabel hadn’t been born yesterday, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that despite being a good kid, Christopher’s natural curiosity wouldn’t get the better of him from time to time. Since Eddie reassured her that the postcards had curse words and nothing more improper than that, Isabel had no issues passing them along.
She couldn’t deny they’ve made a difference too. She’s only given Christopher four of the nearly ten postcards Eddie had mailed her in small batches at a time. Isabel figured he’d sent them out as he’d finished writing them to stop himself from going back on his plan. Technically, she’d given him five, but Isabel counted the two, which discussed why Christopher left his father’s house as one, and she stood by her math. If she took advantage of the fact that Christopher asked to spend the night at her house one Saturday to give those two to him, then that was her prerogative as his bisabulea. Reading them both back to back had drained the poor boy emotionally, and he’d needed the time away from other influences to absorb everything Eddie confessed to him.
“Mijo,” she greeted Ramon, allowing him to kiss her on the cheek. She could see Helena sitting sullenly in the passenger seat from her spot on top of her porch. Sullen was understandable, sometimes even adorable, for a teenager trying to assert their autonomy as a fledging adult. However, it was not so understandable or adorable on a grown woman.
“Christopher, why don’t you go inside and see what we can make for dinner?” She suggested patting the boy lovingly on his bicep as he approached her. In return, Chris gently butts the entire left side of his body against hers before passing on into the house. “I believe there is the fixin’s for tamales somewhere, but we might want a salad.”
“Okay, Abuelita,” he replied from inside the house, sounding much more like himself.
“Mamá, I’m sorry we kept him away, you were right. It is good for him to spend time with more family members.”
“Hmm, have you thought about what else I told you?”
Isabel questioned, unashamed of pressing her advantage when she had one. By the way, Ramon ducked his chin and suddenly refused to meet her gaze; she knew that she wouldn’t like his answer.
“Mamá,” you know why we think this is best,” he tried to placate her. “Eddie wasn’t ready for the responsibility of returning from war to raise a child. Christopher is doing better here with us” –
“Eso es mentira,” Isabel cut her son off, getting sick and tired of this argument. Edmundo had been a single parent in another state for seven years Dios mio, and Helena was still prattling on about how he wasn’t good enough of a father for Christopher! Meanwhile, Christopher had grown into an emotionally mature young man who understood that while others might see him as different because of his disability, that did not have to limit him. Helena had already done enough damage, gaslighting Eddie into believing he would never be good enough as a man or father. She did not deserve this second chance at parenting, which she was trying to steal for herself. At least Ramon had mostly come to his senses about this whole deal. Unfortunately, he loved his wife to distraction, and despite all his proclamations about being the man of the house and the head of his family, everyone knew that he danced to the tune of Helena’s will.
“Mamá!”
“No, enough, mi precioso hijo you have had your chance at fatherhood, and you’ve done your best. Now, it is Edmundo’s turn. You do not see it because you’ve always expected perfection and scorned him when he could not give it to you, but Eddito is an excellent father. If you need more proof, look at how safe Christopher feels to be himself.”
“He did not feel safe when he called us to come and get him!”
“No, but he did feel safe enough to make that call, knowing that his father would respect his choices. Could you say the same of your relationship with your son?”
As was often the case, the silence was deafening under the weight of everything it failed to say.
“Go home, mijo, and start preparing yourself and your wife for the reality that Christopher will be leaving sooner than you’d like. Either Christopher will decide to go home, or Eddie will decide he’s done waiting and will come bring his son home.”
Ramon nodded in understanding and reluctantly accepted what Isabel said, then handed Chris’s backpack over before kissing her cheek goodbye and retreating to his truck. She hated how broken her boy looked at that moment, but right now, it was more important for her to advocate for Eddie. Deep down, she knew Ramon understood that. It would just take a while before this current hurt calloused over, and he could take a step back and see the bigger picture.
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Firehouse 118 had been down one full-time firefighter for several weeks without Bobby showing any signs of wanting to fill the open position. Buck, as had become his recent mantra, was desperately trying not to make a mountain out of a molehill out of something that could have been as simple as Bobby waiting for the new graduates to get done at the Fire Academy. Maybe he was hoping to replicate what he’d done years ago, scoop some top-scoring fresh from the academy probie away from another station.
Maybe this time, Buck would get to treat the new hire as the probie that they were. He could finally stop ragging on Ravi. There hadn’t been a new probationary firefighter at the 118 since Ravi joined them, and the kid couldn’t lose his title of probie until a new one came along. Those were the rules, and he’d just have to put up with things until then. Buck often didn’t make the rules and regularly failed to follow them, but when they suited him, Buck could be a downright stickler about them. And he was pretty adamant about the Firehouse’s probie traditions. Maybe because in another life, he really would’ve done well in college as a frat house member, but in this life, he’d never lasted in college long enough ( with either attempt) to find out.
The entire firehouse’s vibes were off without Eddie. Chimney and Hen were still doing their freaky best friends, partner-thing. Buck used to have that. He used to have a lot of things, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Once again, he found himself having to get used to having less than what he wanted. Less than what everyone else had. Buck had to get used to being left behind again.
The thought kept cycling through his head like a never-ending load of laundry or shitty toilet water that refused to flush, and the only way he found that worked to drown it out was to fall back on old reckless habits. He didn’t want to fall back on getting hurt just to feel something again, to prove to himself that others still cared, a coping skill that had been a staple of Buck 1.0 and a crutch for Buck 2.0. Yet he found himself doing it anyway, despite his good intentions. Little things, nothing too big yet to become overly concerning, and that couldn’t be passed off as a simple accident unless someone else was aware enough to catch Buck’s pattern. Still, things were escalating, and eventually, he would get seriously hurt or hurt someone else with this nonsense.
It was the concern that he could potentially take someone else out with him that was keeping Buck from sleeping during the late hours of a dragging twenty-four-hour shift. (Buck refused to use the ‘q-word’ even when thinking at the firehouse now, he’d learned his lesson about that well and good.) Their last callout was for a level two structure fire in a residential area. Buck had been the last one out, double-checking the house was cleared, and was tempted to exit via a second-story window sans ladder just for the heck of it. He hadn’t, but the temptation was there, and it scared the hell out of him. This explains how now, sometime after midnight, Buck’s sneaking out of the bunkroom and finally giving up on attempting to even trick himself into falling asleep and towards his locker, figuring if he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, he might as well fill the hours by working out in the gym.
The smart thing to do would be to tell someone what was happening in his head. But nobody bothered to call Buck smart these days. Only a few folks in his life ever bothered to call Buck smart, and the most consistent person who saw him as such wasn’t around anymore. Probably wouldn’t be around ever again. Buck popped his locker open as silently as he could, even though he really wanted just to slam the door against its fellow lockers. He automatically reached in and grabbed for his gym clothes to get on with his solo, pathetic, middle-of-the-night workout. Only to pause when his attention got caught on a piece of gleaming white cardstock that had haphazardly been tossed into his locker. A piece of card stock that Buck knew for a fact hadn’t been there the last time he’d been in his locker.
Slowly, as if he was reaching for a viper, Buck moved and picked up the unassuming bit of paper, recognizing it as a postcard, one that hadn’t been sent through the mail but had been filled out in preparation for mailing, everything there but an address and postage. Ignoring the handwritten message for now – he’d instantly recognized the writing, how could he not, but wasn’t ready to read whatever it said – he flipped it over to see what the image on the front might be. Buck was particularly curious as he hadn’t seen any postage, which meant the postcard was purchased before his friend left. To his knowledge, Eddie never indulged in buying touristy postcards. That also meant that it’d been written before Eddie had moved.
Struck slightly dumb by that thought, Buck hesitated before looking down. Something about knowing Eddie bothered to write him a message on a postcard before leaving left Buck feeling a little choked up and finding it difficult to breathe normally for some strange reason. Trying not to overthink things, Buck looked down at the cardstock in his hand to find a pen and ink drawing of a heron standing at the edge of a muddy creek surrounded by foliage. Underneath the bird, in bold block lettering with flourishing curly-q’s on a few letters, was the statement: “MAYBE LET’S NOT DO THE STUPIDEST FUCKING THING WE CAN THINK OF.”
A genuine chuckle was startled out of him at that, unlocking his throat and giving him the courage to turn the card back over to read Eddie’s familiar hastily written script. Buck found himself laughing even more at the first line because it was just so fucking Eddie. Hell, he could perfectly hear Eddie saying the line from the card to him in a normal conversation.
So I’ve been gone for a few shifts now, which means you’ve had plenty of chances to do something stupid. Probably stupider than anything I’ve already witnessed you do, which is sayin’ something. But you don’t do half measures, do you, Buck? Just remember, you’re not expendable, no matter how you act, people need you – you’re family needs you – and that includes Christoper and me, as well as that new baby of Maddie’s & Chim’s that they still haven’t told everyone about (which really, who are they fooling?) Don’t do anything that will rob your new little niece or nephew of the chance of knowing you...”
Still laughing and now blinded by tears that Buck refused to acknowledge, he continued to read what Eddie had written even as he numbly moved backward to sit on the locker room’s wooden bench. It was thanks to muscle memory and years of familiarity that kept Buck from missing his target and falling harshly on the unforgiving tiled floor, potentially severely bruising his tailbone. Unconcerned by his near accident, Buck continued to devour Eddie’s words. Then, when he reached the end of the postcard, he jumped right back to the beginning and started reading it all over again. He sat there hunched over, shoulders up near his ears, shaking with suppressed laughter and tears, muffled by his free hand clamped over his mouth. His other hand tightly held this gift of a note, and the corner where his fingers clutched it crinkled underneath them. He brought the paper closer to his face each time he finished reading until he was almost cross-eyed. For a moment, he thought that he should eat it to keep Eddie’s words with him forever. But he quickly dismissed it even though the thought settled something profound in his gut and made him want to purr. Simply because if Buck ate it, he’d never be able to look at it again, and being able to look at the postcard whenever he wanted was far more critical to Buck than consuming some leftover scrap of his friend he’d been unexpectedly graced with.
He didn’t have a fucking clue as to who slipped this into his locker on Eddie’s behalf, and right then, he couldn’t give one flying fuck about the mystery messenger's identity. Buck was too busy trying to absorb Eddie’s words and embed them in his very bones through some sort of osmosis or alchemy since he’d dismissed eating them as a bad idea. Not that anything Eddie had written was earth-shattering or life-altering. It was all pretty normal, really, and there was nothing that Eddie hadn’t already said to Buck’s face a time or two before. Moreover, it wasn’t even the first time Buck had heard from Eddie since his move back to Texas. What made it all so goddamn special was the method by which Eddie had chosen to say these things. Buck might not have one clue about who the messenger was, but he knew fuckin damn well who gave Eddie the idea of using postcards.
It took some time, but Buck managed to get himself under control and composed enough so that no one realized he had a breakdown in the wee hours of the morning over a postcard by the time the tones sounded again. Buck rode along to the accident scene in the back of the engine, feeling more settled in himself than he had for weeks. It was almost like he had Eddie riding along with him. That was how settled Buck felt. It also helped that Buck knew he had Eddie’s words safely tucked away inside a pocket of his duffel bag in case he ever needed their reassurance again.
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Staying at Abuela’s house reminded him of those first five months living in Los Angeles. Scrambling around to get the place he’d found for Christopher and him to live in renovated and suitable for a seven-year-old with cerebral palsy and a thirty-one-year-old with untreated PTSD. Dealing with the stress of enrolling Christopher into a new school before the start of the year while he tried to find temporary work that would support them enough and give him time to fit in Chris’s appointments as well as classes at the LAFD Firefighter Academy. He’d been relieved when Bobby had hired him at the 118 at the time, which had certainly made things a little easier. Then, things remarkably improved altogether when Buck got over being mad about him joining the team and decided to sweep in like Eddie’s white knight.
Back then, both father and son shared Isabel’s guest room and the full-sized bed. A situation that often resulted in Eddie getting an accidental elbow to the rib or smack to the face in the middle of the night by a certain seven-year-old’s wayward limbs. At least he’d never had to endure any rouge pot shots to the groin as had recently happened to Chimney during a couch nap he’d been taking with Jee-yun snuggled up on his front. She’d been having a rather exciting dream and didn’t even have the good grace to wake up after delivering one crushing blow to her father. According to Chim, it wasn’t his preferred method for a wake-up call.
Eddie learned all about Jee’s latest method of wreaking havoc on her parents’ lives while remaining adorably unaware of the consequences of her actions during his weekly Facetime call with Maddie. As usual, Chim walked in and out of the background, hamming things up. It wasn’t lost on him that lately, for the last several weeks actually, he’d spoken more to Maddie than he had with his favorite Buckley sibling. Something that Maddie had brought up herself, and Chimney liked to tease him about. Both of them were well aware that when it came to the two siblings, Maddie ranked as a distinct second compared to Buck in Eddie’s world. Maddie seemed to think it was hilarious and exactly how things should be. She’d actually told Eddie she’d be furious with him if Buck weren’t his favorite. Chim simply shouted in a drive-by comment that Maddie was already his favorite and Eddie couldn’t steal her way, no matter how many abs he had.
The weekly phone calls to the Buckley-Han household was helping to shore up his sanity when there were times that he found even Abulea’s stalwart gentle warmth needed support.
He’d come back to Texas, to a town that he’d always felt was slowly smothering the life out of him, for Christopher. Not for Buck. And there was a chance that Buck was respecting what Eddie was trying to do by giving him space to reconnect with his son. He was often considerate like that, even though Eddie wished he fucking wouldn’t be, he’d rather see Buck be selfish when it came to his own wants. Somewhere along the line, Buck stopped putting himself first or even on the same footing as everyone else and started putting himself dead last. Eddie wanted to punch the person who convinced Buck he needed to do that. He couldn’t fix it while stuck in Texas, dancing to his parent’s fife as he tried to reclaim his son.
The more they danced him around, the more Eddie wanted to take his boy and run away. It wasn’t as if he’d signed any formal custody agreement in May when they showed up in LA out of the blue to get Christopher. All he needed was for Chris to give him a sign, and he’d pack up whatever he could get a hold of and take him back with in a heartbeat. His mother’s thought on the matter be damned.
Foolishly, he’d allowed himself to hope that he’d only be in El Paso for a few weeks, possibly a month tops, then back on the road home with an enthusiastic (for a fourteen-year-old) Christopher in the passenger seat beside him. But that was proving to be very much a pipe dream. Unfortunately, his mother was proving to be a bigger stumbling block than she needed to be. And Eddie didn’t want to think about why she would be so fucking stubborn about everything. It hurt him how wedded she was to this idea that he couldn’t handle being a parent and that he would eventually take “Christopher down with him.” An idea that it seemed like only Helena was clinging to at this point.
Abuela had resorted to giving Helena the Diaz-Family- Cold-Shoulder©, utterly fed up with her daughter-in-law’s antics. For a while, Eddie figured things would devolve into a family feud with his parents on one side, then himself and Abuela on the other, with Christopher stuck in the middle in some twisted, tortuous game of tug-of-war. But then, as the school year started to come to a close and summer vacation crept ever closer, it was becoming more and more obvious that Ramon was not as staunchly behind Helana’s scheming as she wanted him to be.
While Eddie’s relationship with his father had started to mend somewhat after Ramon’s retirement party and their little heart-to-heart about panic attacks. Only to slowly strengthen it with more open conversations over the phone. Conversations that were frequently being held when Ramon was out walking the family property, when Helena was nowhere around. Eddie didn’t know if that was deliberate on his father’s part or just happenstance. He didn’t really want to think that there could be anything wrong with his parent's marriage. They’d always seem like such a solid team, an unwavering united front in every decision. Yet, lately, Ramon had started to disagree with some of Helena’s choices. It was as if being around the house more frequently had opened his eyes a little bit as to why his now-grown children weren’t as around as often as he might like them to be. No, Eddie didn’t want to think that there might be anything wrong between his parents, but then he hadn’t been willing to believe anything was wrong between him and Shannon.
However, if there was something wrong, it wouldn’t be Eddie’s job to fix things. Instead, he decided to just be happy for the unexpected support from his father and not go looking any gift horses in the mouth. One thing he could hang his hat on was both of his parent's unwillingness to admit defeat, but more than that, neither one of them would be willing to let go of nearly forty years of marriage without a fight.
Exactly like he isn’t giving up on Chris without a fight.
Since coming back, he has only gotten to see Chris a handful of times – with the demanded caveat that it would be done under Abuela’s supervision – but each visit had gone better than the last. Sending Chris messages ahead of time and letting Isabel give them to him when she thought it was best was a genius idea (he was never going to say so in front of Buck, but he might mention it discreetly to Maddie during one of her wine nights with Karen he’d been given a blanket invite to). The very first time he’d seen Christopher in nearly a year of separation, Eddie had been greeted with a hug from his son and one that Chris had initiated. Something that had been increasingly rare lately as the growing boy started to try to find his way into becoming a young man.
It had been all Eddie could do not to lose his cool at that and start blubbering like some fool just because his fourteen-year-old son decided he missed him enough to hug his father. But considering that the last time they saw each other in person, Christopher was so mad that he’d physically refused to look at Eddie or even acknowledge him… Well, then, Eddie couldn’t be blamed for the tears gathering around the rim of his eyes. Christopher was his baby and had always held the key to Eddie’s happiness from the very moment he was born. Being separated from him all these months was more painful than anything Eddie had ever had to endure. Even being shot. Knowing that the separation was something that Christopher wanted, that he had asked for, was the only way Eddie could make himself endure it instead of just giving up on everything.
To see that Maddie’s advice to reach out and keep communicating was already facilitating such a change in their fractured relationship – it was like being granted an unexpected second chance. One that Eddie hoped for but never dared dream that he’d be lucky enough to get. He’d honestly thought he'd already used up any lucky breaks allotted to him. What with the multiple brushes with death and all the last-minute escapes. However, that didn’t stop him from clinging as tightly to Christopher as long as his kid allowed it.
Each subsequent meeting after that first one, they’d had several more hugs and necessary but emotionally draining conversations. Each conversation centered around a postcard and what he’d written on it. This helped them both focus on what they wanted to say to each other and allowed their previously close relationship to grow even closer. Through it all, Eddie couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself to feel anything else but grateful that he and Christopher were finally communicating honestly with each other again. At some point, after promising each other that they would be a team and make sure that they’d help each other to navigate Chris's growing up from a kid into a young man, they’d both fallen back into old comfortable habits. Eddie backsliding into hiding his feelings from Chris and babying the then thirteen-year-old when it was uncalled for and Chris losing confidence that he could speak up for his needs and be heard by his father. Thinking Eddie was acting like a jerk instead of his dad.
And, honestly, there probably wasn’t just one incident that triggered this regression. It is more like a series of incidents that caused it, and it probably happened slowly over time. This would probably explain why neither Diaz boy had noticed the slow erosion of their normally solid bond until a huge, unexpected strain made it snap in one clean break. But if Eddie were a betting man, and he’s been known to do so on occasion, he’d be willing to bet that a couple of those triggering incidents involved Buck. It didn’t matter right now, however. Now, they were rebuilding a solid foundation for their father/son relationship. If something, anything, going on with Buck could impact their family dynamic so drastically, then he and Christopher could figure out why that was together once Eddie got them back to LA.
A return that was now starting to look more and more inevitable as Christopher started to make noise about how he’d miss seeing all his friends back home, and he wished he’d gotten to share in freshman year of high school with them. They had gotten to do some exciting things as part of the curriculum, far more cool things than dissecting a frog in freshman year biology class – “Every freshman biology class dissects frogs dad! But not every bio class can say they toured the Aquarium of the Pacific and take a class where they get to look inside a squid! – which, Eddie had to concede the kid had a point. That did sound pretty damn cool. That sounded like a class Eddie wished he could participate in, too. Eddie had to remind Chris that that happens when you decide to move away; sometimes, you miss out on cool things that others get to do instead. Christopher hadn’t liked being reminded of that. And that had been the end of that particular conversation.
Another time, Chris brought up that while he was pleased Abuelo taught him how to play chess, and he’d enjoyed playing with his grandfather as well as for the chess club, he didn’t like all of his teachers at the school his grandparents had enrolled him in. They weren’t as cool or understanding as his teachers at The Durand School had been. Some of these new teachers focused too much on his crutches and how they could distract other students. A few of them even told him how his CP made him different, and that meant he shouldn’t expect to be able to do everything his peers were doing – an old argument that Chris already considered irrelevant – they refused to think outside of the box and find a way that would work for him to do things “not like you and Buck, dad.” Moreover, when Christopher mentioned it to Helena, she didn’t do much to stand up for him. Instead, she seemed to agree with those teachers.
Eddie nearly chewed through his cheek, trying to hold back his thoughts when he learned about that. He had thought he’d already dealt with that shade of ableism and the self-doubt it could instill in his son when Christopher was still in fourth grade attempting to skateboard. Evidently, he needed to fence swords with that particular windmill again. Or better yet, take him home. And it was clear to Eddie what Christopher was hinting at with these well-placed comments and seemingly random little anecdotes; he wanted to go home. He just wasn’t ready to come right out and say so. One, because he was a Diaz and as stubborn as the rest of his family, and two, he was a teenager now. He couldn’t act like he was homesick and wanted his dad. No, he had to act all indifferent and as if he hadn’t missed his father, as if his choice to stay away from home for as long as he had hadn’t been a mistake. Eddie got it. If Christopher wanted to try and save some face by pretending he’d talked himself into coming back home, then Eddie would be more than happy to let him do so. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t have plenty of time alone in the truck together to hammer out all the kinks once he finally got Christopher on the road home. He could play along until then.
All there was left to do was convince his mom to stop guarding Chris as if he were a piece of some precious hoard and she the mighty dragon who had collected him. To do that, Eddie stopped playing defense and went on the offensive for once when it came to his parents – or, more accurately, his mother. Abuela volunteered to take Christopher for a Saturday to see their primo Carlos and his partner Jensen’s ranch and help with the horses for a day. The two of them ran a small Equine Therapy program that mainly catered to returning veterans and others who suffered from PTSD. As members of both communities, Carlos and his cónyuge felt it was important to give others a helping hand as much as possible.
Evidently, Christopher had asked to see their ranch earlier on in his stay, but Helena had shot that idea down. She had claimed that the horses would’ve been too much for Christopher despite knowing he’d already attended a few sessions of Equine Therapy back in LA and loved horses. Eddie believed she was more concerned about Christopher being exposed to Carlos, his partner, and their lifestyle than the actual horses. Especially considering how displeased Helena was when Eddie accepted some under-the-counter work for them after Shannon disappeared from him and Chris. Even before that, back when Eddie was freshly home from Afghanistan and trying to regain his footing as a civilian, she had discouraged him from visiting with his cousin, a fellow veteran, because she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to associate with other discharged soldiers until he’d made the transition back to civilian life himself. Never mind that they could’ve helped him make the transition easier.
Thankfully, abuela didn’t have such hangups, and Christopher had been so excited about the prospect of seeing primo Carlos and his Jensen that he didn’t think to question what Eddie would be doing while they were gone. Ramon – who was well aware of what was happening – had dropped Christopher off at Isabel’s the night before, so Eddie spent a lively breakfast with two (out of three) of his favorite people and got a chance to chat briefly with Carlos when he came to pick up abuela and Chris before taking them back to the ranch for the day.
After seeing them leave, Eddie had no reason to put off what he needed to do, so he got in his truck and headed toward his parent's house. Better to get things over with right away, like ripping off a band-aid, then leave them to the very last second. As far as Mom knew, this would be an unplanned visit on his part, where Eddie had been careful to only see them when explicitly invited over to their house or when they had been invited to abuela’s. Another deliberate choice on his part. He hadn’t wanted to give her any time to prepare an argument, hoping that he could retain an upper hand by catching her off – as much as he’d been when they blindsided him a year ago. At least for a little while, he could pretend that was the case.
No, he encouraged himself, taking a deep breath and deciding to approach the upcoming confrontation as if it were a five-alarm fire. Imaging Buck at his side, ready to dive in and sweep the building for potential survivors, eager to have his back just like he’s been since they made that pact. Eddie had the upper hand here. Christopher was his, for fuck’s sake, and Helena had had enough time at playing happy family, pretending her grandson was her second chance at parenting. Enough was enough. It was past time for this charade to end.
Keeping that thought firmly in his mind, Eddie finally exited his truck and marched into his parent's home, feeling very much like he was about to poke a sleeping dragon but beyond caring what happened to him in the process, just as long as he got Christopher back in the end.
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A peal of sparkling laughter, like wind chimes, floated up from the back of Carlito’s truck, and Isabel did nothing to hide her pleased smile at the sound. She hadn’t heard Christopher laugh that hard in a long time. Not since their last shared dinner with the boy’s Buck, if she were to be honest. Taking him to visit with Carlos and introducing him to Jake ‘call-me-Jensen-please’ Jensen had been a brilliant idea. Not only did Christopher get to spend some time with the horses and indulge in the soothing comfort of those majestic animals, but he also got to meet a pair of men whose friendship mirrored the one his own father shared with his best friend. (And if Eddito ever stopped burying his head in the sand and got out of his own way, it could blossom into an equally beautiful love match). Jensen was very similar to Buck in the way he immediately respected Christopher and was quick to listen to him and even quicker with a joke, full of interesting facts and never-ending chatter. The two formed a fast and easy friendship. Whereas Carlos was cut from the same cloth as Eddie, both tending towards quiet, almost broody, observation, only speaking when their words would have the most impact.
Isabel could already see the wheels turning in her grandson’s head, and from the occasional contemplative side-eye he’d flicked her way as their day wound down to a close, she knew that Christopher had noticed what she wanted him to and was thinking things over. Good, that was how it should be. Now, as she sat in the passenger seat of Carlito’s truck and listened to Jensen entertain Christopher with stories about his niece and her soccer team, Isabel felt quite content with her world.
That was until they pulled into Ramon’s driveway, and she could see through the living room window the tableau of Eddie sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his head in his hands, with Ramon standing at his side and slightly behind him, as Helena stood over him arms crossed, leaning forward aggressively and speaking rapidly. It was clear that none of them had noticed the approaching vehicle. To say that things were looking tense would have been a gross understatement.
“Ah, Carlito,” she sighed, putting a hand briefly on his arm as he put the truck in park. He nodded in agreement to everything she left unsaid, the brim of his ever-present cowboy hat shading his eyes and preventing her from reading his thoughts at what they saw. But Isabel knew her grandchildren better than their own parents ever could in most instances, and she could tell from the set of Carlos’ jaw that he did not care for what he was seeing. He made an annoyed, considering, sounding grunt before unbuckling himself, and the sound immediately captured his partner’s attention as soft as it was. They both briefly met each other’s gaze in the rearview mirror before Carlos opened his door and exited the truck, moving swiftly around the front to come to offer his hand for Isabel to take for help stepping down if she’d like. Jensen stood by Chris’s door to help him out if he asked for it, but otherwise just casually leaned against the side of the truck, managing to look as if he just happened to be there. Then, the four of them made their way up to the house, and the closer they got, the clearer it was to hear Helena’s strident tones.
“Mi angel,” Isabel turned to Christopher before they stepped up onto the porch, carding her fingers gently through his sandy-brown curls, smiling gently at the sunstruck blond highlights that reminded her of both a very young Eddie and her boys Buck. “You must remember that your father loves you very much. And no matter what anyone else says, that will never change.”
“Okay, abuela,” Christopher murmured, leaning into her for additional comfort, “but you’ll remind me if I forget?”
“Always, mijo, always. And if I can’t, then your Buck will, and I’m sure primo Carlito and his Jensen will be happy to help, just like your 118 familia and tia Pepa, if you ask.
With that last bit of reassurance, they all turned to enter the house. Isabel right next to her great-grandson, with Carlos in the lead and Jensen at their back. She could not help but notice that her Carlito was holding himself as stiffly as he would if he were going in to do battle.
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“I can’t believe you, Eddie, wanting to uproot Christopher again! How can you be so selfish? He has a good life here, something stable and consistent. He doesn’t have to worry about you recklessly risking your life for no reason, leaving him to some stranger or the foster system when you die.” Helena hissed at him.
She’d been going on like this for several hours now, ever since he’d laid out his case for why he was going to be taking Chris home now that the school year was over. Evidently, that argument that this was something Christopher wanted didn’t have the same meaning for her when it aligned with Eddie's wishes instead of her own. Which, honestly, did not surprise Eddie. It was the same typically hypocritical bullshit his mother had always subscribed to his entire life. Usually, her hypocrisy was crouched in the typical double standards most teenagers railed against when growing up, with the never-ending plea about how life just wasn’t fair! But now she wasn’t even bothering to hide it anymore. She wanted to cut Eddie out of Christopher’s life for whatever trumped-up reason and was going to do so, damn the consequences. Eddie didn’t see how he could extract himself and Chris from this one without risking bruised feelings, at the least, or permanently damaging important relationships for everyone involved, at the worst.
“We didn’t push for custody after Shannon abandoned him, and that was a mistake. Then we made a worse one when we let you keep him in LA with you after her death. Well, we’re not going to be making any more mistakes like that now, Eddie. You’re going to be signing over custody of Christopher to us immediately if you want any chance of ever seeing him again or remaining a part of this family.”
“Mom! – “ he exclaimed at the same time his father snapped; “Helena!”; and they all heard over both of their voices:
“You can’t do that!”
All three of them snapped their heads around so quickly that Eddie practically heard their collective vertebrae screaming from the whiplash, and there, standing in the doorway to the living room, was Christopher, staring absolutely horrified at his grandmother, flanked by Abuela and his cousins Carlos and Jensen. Carlos met Eddie’s gaze briefly before nodding once, flicking his over Ramon, then elbowing Jensen in the side and ushering him down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Eddie knew that the two of them would be packing up whatever they could find in Christopher’s room with the same ruthless efficiency the ex-special forces soldiers would dismantle a safe house. If, when they got home, Chris found that there was anything missing that he’d really wanted, Eddie would call Ramon and have him mail it back to them.
“Christopher,” Helena nearly stumbled over his name but managed to keep her composure at the last second. Only someone listening closely would have caught it. “Go to your room, honey, and will talk about this later, after company leaves.”
“No, we won’t!” Chris retorted, standing his ground, his eyes blazing with the force of his hurt and anger. Dios, fuck did Eddie love his son. “If you take my dad away from me, I will never forgive you. How could you even think about doing that? He’s my dad! I might be mad at him, but I need him, and were going home.”
“Christopher, you’re too upset to make a decision like that right now. Take some time to calm down, think things over,” Helena tried to placate him. She was starting to sound desperate. Eddie knew what came next when his mother got desperate. He stood up then and moved to stand behind his son, putting a hand on his shoulder, visibly and physically supporting him as he stood-up for himself and his wants against his grandmother. He wouldn’t dare speak for Chris at this moment because that’s not what he needed from him, but he wasn’t going to let Christopher stand there and think that Eddie wasn’t on his side. It wasn’t lost on him that after he moved, Ramon had also moved to stand himself in line with Isabel so that he now stood behind and just off to the left of Eddie, hands tucked into belt loops of his jeans, appearing to all the world to be a casual observer but making his own thoughts crystal clear.
From the pinched tightening around Helena’s eyes, dad’s shift in allegiance had not gone unnoticed. And now she seemed even more uncertain in her plans.
“I decided months ago, Grandma, you just weren’t listening. I want to go home with Dad because that’s where I belong. This was only ever supposed to be a visit.”
With perfect timing, the cousins came clomping down the hallway then, some luggage in tow, and with the briefest nods of acknowledgment to Ramon for politeness’ sake and nothing for Helena, headed back outside. Eddie bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling or possibly even laughing at the suddenly apolitically affronted look on his mother’s face. As if she had any right to demand basic common courtesies from a pair of men, she’d gone out of her way to snub, as if butter wouldn’t melt and they were too thick to notice if it did, for years now. Laughing now, while it would have helped to release some of the stress he’d felt, wouldn’t have gone over very well. And he'd been on Helena’s shit list for longer than was necessary already. Eddie didn’t need to go and give her an actual reason to keep him on it.
“Edmundo, you cannot seriously think that Christopher is old enough to know what is right for him right now,” Helena tried again, only to stop abruptly at Ramon’s sharp gesture.
“Mi amor eso es suficiente,” his stern tone made her take a physical step back, clenching her jaw to hold her tongue. “If you were able to respect Christopher’s choices last year, then you can respect them today. If you respect him and our son at all, then the next thing you should say is goodbye for now and promise not to pressure either of them into speaking with us until they are ready to.”
“Ramon…”
“That is the only way forward, dearest. Otherwise, we lose them both.”
“Why are you so cruel?” that question was aimed directly at Eddie, hitting its target perfectly, leaving his heart cleaved in two.
“Mami, I’m not trying to be cruel,” Eddie tried to explain, knowing that she wasn’t willing to hear him but needing to say it anyway, if just for himself. “But I am done with missing out on my son’s life and will not let anything or anyone else keep me from him. Not even you. If you think that’s cruel, then I’m sorry for you, but I am done with asking for forgiveness for doing what is best for myself and Christopher.”
She stood there, alone, facing off against the four of them, looking small with tears pooling in her eyes, and Eddie’s heart broke for how defeated she appeared at that moment. Then she took one deep breath and squared her shoulders before crossing her arms underneath her chest, straightening her spine, becoming once again the formidable mother he’d always known.
“Goodbye, Christopher, I love you,” she addressed her grandson with a soft smile, and Eddie almost breathed a sigh of relief; almost. Then Helena turned her attention back to him, and her eyes hardened as the smile fell from her face, “I will never forgive you.”
With that, she turned sharply on her heel and stormed (retreated) off into the kitchen, dismissing them all as irrelevant. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw his father take a half step forward as if he was going to chase after her, but he stopped at the sound of one pain filled word:
“ Dad,” Christopher choked out around a half-smothered sob, leaning his full weight back into Eddie’s body. “Does grandma, – ”
“No, no, no, no, mijo, never,” Eddie was quick to reassure him, grabbing him by the shoulders and kneeling so it was easier for Chris to look him in the eye and see how serious he was. “Grandma just needs some time to herself right now; she doesn’t hate you. How could anyone hate you? Pfft,” Eddie exclaimed, waving a hand around in a dismissive gesture, “impossible, not when you’re one of the bravest, coolest kids in the world! Grandma knows that she just forgot.”
“No, not that,” Christopher argued, grabbing for Eddie’s weaving arm and pulling him in closer, “she hates you; why? How could she be so mean to you? You’re the best dad in the world!? An-a-and I love you so much! How could she not see that? Did I do the wrong thing, asking to visit her and abuelo? Was it b-b-because I was angry with you, she decided to hate you in the first place?”
Eddie scooped Christopher up in his arms at that, literally standing up and bringing Chris and crutches along with him, crutching the teen as close to himself as he possibly could. Trying to squeeze the dread of that idea right out of him. He hooked his chin over Chris’s shaking shoulder as he cried softly with his head tucked away into Eddie’s neck, not uttering one complaint about how he was too big or old now for Eddie to pick him up like some kid. Eddie’s gaze caught on Ramon’s, and he could see his father hastily dashing away his own tears.
“Mijo you’ve done nothing wrong,” Eddie reassured his son, “remember what I told you when you left last year?” he questioned, to which Christopher responded with a strangled little mewl that Eddie took as a yes. “I hated that you wanted to go with your grandparents, but I loved you, so I was letting you go. Grandma has never been very good with letting the people she loves make their own choices, especially when she doesn’t like whatever it is they’re doing. That doesn’t mean that she hates me.” He finished explaining to his son, all the while looking at his father dead on, hoping that the man would help him not let him lie to Christopher yet again.
“Your dad is right, mijo,” Ramon spoke up, nodding a promise to Eddie from behind Christopher’s back. “Grandma just needs some time to remember that she isn’t always right, and you and your father make an equipo perfecto, ¿si? ”
“Are you sure?” Chris finally asked, removing his face from Eddie’s neck long enough to check in, not only with his abuelo but his father and great-grandmother as well.
“ Si, ¿que mas podria ser? ” Eddie shot back jokingly, bouncing Chris once or twice before carefully settling him down on his feet.
“Vamos hemos dejado a nuestros primos esperando el tiempo suficiente,” Isabel informed Christopher, reaching for his hand. Chris maneuvered his way out of his crutches, leaving them with Eddie, then walked steadily alongside Abuela as she led him back outside to the trucks. Eddie watched as they exited the house for a few moments, his heart feeling both heavier and lighter after the day's events before an uncertain touch on his shoulder drew his attention away.
“Eddito,” a nickname his father hadn’t addressed him by since before Eddie first learned he was going to be a big brother, “I’m ”–
“Sin papá,” Eddie waved away the apology, not particularly wanting to hear it regardless of whether he deserved it. To be perfectly frank, he’d rather put the whole ugly business behind them and start fresh with a clean slate. Instead, he pulled Ramon into a crushing hug before taking a step back and clamping him solidly on the shoulder. It wasn’t quite forgiveness, but it was an olive branch.
“Will you leave tonight or in the morning?” Ramon asked, trying to sound casual as if a rift in the family hadn’t just been blown open.
“The morning, I think,” Eddie decided, “probably too tired to start driving tonight.”
Ramon nodded in agreement, then sheepishly added, “Perhaps I could call in the morning to say goodbye before you get on the road?”
“Come for breakfast, papi. Have a proper goodbye with Christopher,” Eddie offered. After a few more murmured pleasantries, Eddie left his father standing in the front entrance of his house and stepped outside to find Isabel and Jensen had left, but Carlos leaned against the driver's side of Eddie’s truck with Chris tucked away into the back seat. Looking just as worn out as Eddie felt.
Eddie waited until he drew even with Carlos before leveling him with a questioning look, head tilted in a silent query. Carlos returned his look with a steady gaze and then a small, dry smile. Eddie recognized it as one he’d used himself with contemplating how to explain Buck’s antics to someone who didn’t know him at all, let alone as well as Eddie did.
“Jen wanted some cooking lessons from abulea,” Eddie guessed, matching Carlos’ smile with one of his own.
“Si,” his notoriously circumspect cousin replied. Then, he gestured for Eddie to hop into the back with his son, even as Carlos pulled Eddie’s own key ring out of his front pocket and opened the front door, hopping into the driver's seat.
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Spring had finally given way to summer in Los Angeles, not that anyone but a native Angeleno could tell the difference, what with the barely perceptible changes in the nearly perpetually sunny weather, but Buck liked to think he’d lived in LA for long enough that he knew the difference. As the seasons marched forward, marking the unrelenting progression of time, Buck did his best not to count just how many days post-Diaz Boys he’d now been forced to experience. He couldn’t say that he had been completely deprived of all Diazes in his life as Tia Pepa insisted on meeting up with him at least a couple of times a month for lunch or a coffee date. Even if Buck had wanted to tell her no, he wouldn’t have dared to. Hanging out with Pepa helped him maintain the illusion that he still had Christopher and Eddie in his life; it made it seem like they were off on some extended vacation instead of gone for good. Plus, it was nice to have someone outside his immediate circle checking in on him, wondering how he was doing without his best friend and their kid. Buck would forever be a sucker for someone, anyone, that cared for him. Pepa knew it, too, and she was not ashamed to use that fact to lavish attention upon him every time he caved to one of her invitations to see her. He’d soak it up with only the slightest twinges of guilt, feeling like he was stealing her attention away from her more deserving parties – like her blood relatives. Pepa wouldn’t hear of it, however.
As the seasons progressed, several more postcards from Eddie mysteriously appeared in Buck’s possession without him knowing who the person or persons responsible for the unexpected deliveries were. And just like with that first 3 am discovery, each arrived in different and unexpected locations. A few showed up in random places around the firehouse, where Buck would be guaranteed to stumble across them – in his spare shower kit, stuck in the pocket of his turnouts, or in the box of some vegan protein bars only he liked. Others appeared outside of work entirely, making it impossible for Buck to claim with any certainty that it was a member of the 118 leaving them – like the one he’d discovered inside of the jeep’s dash a few days after a 118 family day at the beach, or the couple of postcards that he found randomly throughout the loft. There had been one stuck in his stack of clean loaf pans and another shoved down the back of his couch cushions, with just enough of a corner sticking out for him to notice the splash of white against the fabric. So many folks could have access to both places without him paying attention, even with him there, to make a delivery that Buck couldn’t just narrow down the clandestine messenger’s identity.
He honestly wasn’t sure that he wanted to anyway.
Every time Buck found one, no matter where it had been hidden, he’d feel his heart give this almighty thud in his chest, and then his pulse would start to race with the same electrified keenness, a sort of thrilling anxiety, that Buck had only ever felt when he’d been riding the ropes. Or, back when he’d first started getting serious with Abby and decided that he’d wanted to step into the cage of her responsibilities with her. But he didn’t want to face that comparison head-on. It was too much to contemplate, and it was better to look at it sideways as only a potential what-if; that would have been something he and Eddie could’ve done in another world. If they had been able to make choices different from the ones that had needed to be made.
That was a pipedream; it was all it would ever be. That didn’t mean Buck couldn’t enjoy the dream when he was feeling particularly down or left out. And if he kept that fact to himself, then all the better.
Buck was two hours away from being able to wrap yet another achingly normally dull shift without Eddie there to keep him company when Cap called him into his office. He wondered what he could’ve done to warrant getting called into the captain’s office this time. Granted, he might have terrorized Ravi a little by slipping into “Clipboard Buck” mode during their inventory of the trucks earlier in their shift – but it wasn’t his fault if no one else appreciated the efficiency of his clipboard system. He’d thought Ravi, at least, would have appreciated the system; after all, Buck had trained the probie.
“S-s-so, what’s going on, Cap?” Buck asked as he slinked into the office behind Bobby, attempting to sound nonchalant. An attempt that only resulted in Bobby raising one skeptical eyebrow at Buck before he gestured for him to take a seat.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve finally found someone to fill the open space here, and I’ll pair them up with you on your next twenty-four after this upcoming forty-eight off.” Bobby informed him, leaning on the corner of his desk closest to the chair Buck had chosen to plop himself down in instead of sitting in his office chair. Buck swallowed hard, throttling everything he’d wanted to say to that news with sheer willpower, before looking up to meet Bobby’s concerned gaze.
“Yeah, w-well, suppose it’s time,” Buck ventured, vowing to stay mature about all this. “The brass would only let you keep the spot open for so long. Bobby gave him a faint smile at that, and Buck felt like he’d just earned himself a gold star.
If Bobby were to start hanging out stickers like that, Buck would be utterly shameless about making a chart and lining his locker with them.
“Truth is Buck,” Bobby stated gently, sounding every inch the Minnesota dad he was, “I was waiting on this particular recruit to get back to me about a potential start date, and I just heard from him.”
“W-w-why, are you telling me this, Cap? Why not share the news with the whole crew at once,” Buck questioned him, a queasy feeling in his gut telling him that he already knew why Bobby had pulled him aside to talk about this ‘new’ recruit privately.
“Well,” Bobby started, turning to grab something from a folder behind him, “because you mean a lot to him, and I think he means just as much to you.” He finished, reaching out to offer Buck a now achingly familiar brand of postcard.
“You, Bobby,” and it wasn’t a question. Nor did it stop Buck from dazedly taking the square bit of cardstock out of his pseudo-father’s hand.
“Me,” Bobby admitted with a rueful smile, “and a couple of other trustworthy co-conspirators.” Buck nodded at that; he already figured Maddie had to have been in on it and had ruled Chimney out, as the man could barely keep a secret to save his life. Chim was getting better at it, but still, he was more likely to spill his guts than keep it unless the secret in question was his own.
“So this mysterious ‘recruit’ is actually…”
“Eddie,” Bobby supplied for him, finishing Buck’s sentence. “He talked to me before he left to explain that he hoped to convince Christopher to move back to LA and asked if I could keep his spot open. I told him I would do what I could if he kept me posted on his progress. He called me a day ago and said they were on their way back but would be making a leisurely trip out of the drive. Turning it into a two-day trip instead of a day or a day and a half one.” Buck nodded numbly at that, part of him absorbing Bobby’s words and the rest of him just completely blue-screened.
“Buck, Buck,” Bobby repeated his name with the tone of voice of someone who’s already tried to get his attention more than once. However, it wasn’t Bobby calling his name that eventually brought Buck out of his temporary freeze. But rather the man grasping his shoulder with a fatherly squeeze. “Go home kid,” he suggested, “take some time to think things over and be ready to work again come Saturday.”
He processed Bobby’s words as if he was in a vacuum, taking the still unexamined postcard and slipping it into his back pocket before awkwardly leaving Cap’s office. This time, Buck followed Bobby’s advice despite the remaining time on his shift and left the station early, without even bothering to change out of his uniform. He just packed up his duffel without even a token protest and headed out to his jeep with barely a wave to anyone else. His head both buzzing with and buzzingly numb by a myriad of unspoken questions. So much so, that Buck could hardly focus on anything else he was doing.
Why wouldn’t Eddie tell him that was what he was thinking of doing in the first place? Why not tell him that was the plan once he got to El Paso? Unless he didn’t want Buck to know? Maybe he was trying to spare Buck’s feelings if it didn’t work out? Or maybe, Buck’s feelings had nothing to do with it. After all, as Eddie had once pointed out, not everything was all about him. And even though Buck was the guy who liked to fix things, that didn’t mean he could help fix this. But it also didn't mean he could’ve hurt things more. What was it that made Eddie feel the need to cut him out?
A thought Buck couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Why would Eddie cut him out? Especially when all the messages he had received from Eddie in the last few months indicated that he’d wanted to do the opposite. Eddie hadn’t once explicitly said so in any of his writings, but the general tone of his words left Buck feeling as if he’d wanted to pull Buck closer. Not drive a wedge between them. Buck had been left behind enough to recognize when someone was saying goodbye without actually saying it. Sure it might take him a while to believe the messages, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hear.
He’d known Abby was ghosting him long before he’d been willing to believe she could do that to him. It had taken him just a bit longer before he could act upon that knowledge.
Buck wasn’t always oblivious to how people hurt him. He’d just rather not face reality sometimes. So, what if he’d prefer to stretch out the moment before he had to act like a reasonable and responsible adult and acknowledge that it was often so easy for others to discard him and not consider his feelings. Call it a survival instinct or trauma response. Call it whatever you damn well please, Buck wouldn’t have been able to convince himself to give all of him to the job still, let alone anything else, if he couldn’t feign blissful ignorance at times. He certainly wouldn’t have been willing to keep handing out second chances to those who’d already burned more than one.
Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for Buck to go around asking for second or third chances, for himself, if he wasn’t willing to dole them out in return. But that was neither here nor there. He didn’t think he needed to give Eddie another chance, anyway. Buck couldn’t fault the man for leaving to fix his relationship with his son.
Buck wished his father would do a third as much for him as Eddie did for Chris. But Philip Buckley had exhausted his capability to go the extra mile for his children, particularly a son, after helping his wife design a genetic match for Daniel to save him, and all that effort failed.
The never-ending spiral of Buck’s thoughts brought him safely home, his body working on autopilot while everything else frayed on the ledge of a burnout. He didn’t become aware of his surroundings again, until he realized that somehow, he’d ended up standing uncertainly by his dining table, hovering in the middle of the loft between the kitchen and its living space. Buck was staring, without seeing, at the collage he’d made for himself out of the cards he’d already gotten. He’d taped them up on the sliding glass patio door leading out to his balcony, alternating which were facing with the illustration side in, and the written side out, so he had a chance to read them no matter which way he passed through the door. After staring at his little memory wall for a few disjointed moments, Buck remembered Bobby handing him a new postcard. Buck retrieved it from his pocket with a slightly shaky hand, pouting a little when he noticed the slight curve the cardstock had taken on from the drive over. It distorted the image of a sparrow, or finch, possibly, standing on a twig, giving it a funhouse mirror effect of making it appear further away than it was. Buck had to flatten it out on the table, using the pointer finger and thumb of both hands along the edges, the rest of his hands spread wide to brace himself for impact. This time, Eddie edited the image’s block text instead of allowing it to speak for itself, adding a word and crossing out the last two. Instead of the card’s original text of: I’LL GIVE YOU TEN DOLLARS TO SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW,” it now read as;
“I’LL GIVE YOU TEN DOLLARS TO NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW
Multiple lines ran through those last two words as if they had personally attacked the editor, Eddie. So firmly they’d been struck out that Buck was surprised not to find a rip in the paper. The sob that bubbled out of him at that wasn’t much of a surprise. Gently, one could say reverently, Buck turned the thing over and flattened it out again with hands that shook worse than a probies’ after an adrenaline crash. He started to read Eddie’s writing, and felt himself sink further and further into the support of the table at each sentence he finished. This time the penmanship was cramped and nearly illegible with everything Eddie tried to cram into the limited available space.
“
Did you knowThat’s a stupid way to start this, ‘d’ya know’ no you didn’t, because you never have a fucking clue when it comes to yourself, do you Buck? No, someone’s always gotta tell you, so here’s me telling you – I can listen to you talk about anything for hours. Doesn’t matter what you’re talking about; I want to listen to you. I’m happy to do it, even when you’re talkin’ crazy about curses, or ghosts, I want to hear every thought that runs through that pretty head of yours. Sometimes, I’d egg you on to see what you could think up next. You amaze me, Buck, every damn day.
I hated how he talked, not to you, but at you like you were some child needing guidance. And I hated how he spoke about you when you weren’t around, and what he said when you were. More importantly, I hated how he wouldn’t fucking listen to you. He acted like it wasn’t a privilege to share in your thoughts but rather a chore. Like being your boyfriend was some obligation – he’d kissed you, helped you realize you liked men, then he was required to date you– you would’ve, you’ve never been an obligation to me. (And if he’d felt that way, he should’ve said something sooner, instead of that bullshit about first and last love). Fuck! Buck, he couldn’t even get your name right! He never appreciated you like he should have – none of them ever did, but he was the last straw, Buck. The last fucking straw.
I see you, Evan, I always have. It’s me, I’ve never seen clearly. But I like to think I’m starting too. Writing these notes to you and Christopher, did I mention I’ve been writing to Chris? It helped me realize some things about myself. I do need to go and get Christopher, but maybe I don’t need to leave LA forever. I need to talk to Chris. But I’m hoping if – when – we come home, you’ll be there, waiting for us. You’re our family, Buck, you’re ours. And you have to know that we are yours. It shouldn’t even be a question. If I have to, I’ll tell you so until I run out of breath. Christopher loves his Buck, so do I –
You’re the love of my life, Buck.
“Oh my god, you’re such a fucking bastard!” Buck sobbed and couldn’t tell if he was angry or elated. He knew that his legs would no longer hold him up, and the floor sounded like an awfully great place to be right about then. With all the grace of an ungainly newly born giraffe, Buck crumbled to the hard stone floor of the loft. Clutching the postcard to his heart, he starfished on the floor letting the tears flow freely. No wonder Bobby sent him home after handing that over!
🚒🚒🐕🚒🚒********🚒🚒🐕🚒🚒********🚒🚒🐕🚒🚒********🚒🚒🐕🚒🚒
The truck pulled to a rumbling stop into an achingly familiar driveway after a long day of travel capped off by facing the ridiculous, never-ending volume of LA traffic. Eddie cut the engine with the satisfying feeling of finally coming home, radiating warmly outwards from deep within his chest. The only thing that could’ve made their return better was if there had been the familiar shape of a blue Jeep waiting either in the driveway or at the curb outside of 4995 S. Bedford St. The only way that could’ve happened was if he’d told Buck they were on their way home, however. And while Eddie might’ve been brave enough to tell his best friend and partner (in every sense of the word) exactly what he meant to him. Eddie wasn’t quite brave enough to face Buck just yet. Not that he was going to get much time to avoid him.
When he told Bobby that he and Christopher were coming home, Cap had immediately put him back on rotation. According to the text he’d sent, Bobby thought it was high time for the pinning to stop for both their sakes and Eddie should go ahead and put them all out of their misery by clueing Buck in. He knew Bobby would give Buck the last postcard, where Eddie admitted exactly what he felt for the man. Eddie just hoped he could get himself and Christopher settled back into their house and at least a few hours of sleep. First things first, dinner, and probably a shower for them both.
“Mijo,” Eddie murmured, reaching across the console to gently rustle Chris awake. He couldn’t help but feel a little teary-eyed awe, remembering the last time he and Christopher had pulled into this driveway with a U-Haul trailer hitched behind a truck. Only that time, Chris was still sitting in the back of the cab with the help of a booster seat, not in the passenger seat as the navigator who’d passed out on him during the last leg of traffic. “We’re home.”
Christopher roused at that, and started collecting his phone and other possessions that had migrated out of his backpack and into his lap to keep him aware enough to pretend to be some company for his dad. Eddie chuckled underneath his breath even as he exited the cab and grabbed their overnight bags. The rest of their things could wait until morning, or tomorrow afternoon, to be dealt with, for now he would be happy to get inside the house and figure out what to have for dinner. He’d tossed everything perishable in the fridge before leaving, donating the rest, unsure of how long he’d be gone and not wanting to come home to find either a rodent or insect invasion. It was definitely going to be a night for takeout.
Smiling at the familiar sound of Christopher’s crutches following him on the stone walkway, he flicked through his keyring for the housekey. Even knowing that he’d left the place in a bit of a mess, what with boxes of half-packed things still lying around that he knew he’d at least have to move out of the way for now, Eddie's spirits couldn’t be dampened. Christopher was home. They were both back, right where they belonged.
He found the key in time, grateful that he’d listen to Buck and put the front porch light on a timer that turned on as soon as it got dark enough, he’d hate to be scrambling for it. Buck had also talked Eddie into using a similar timer for one of the living room lamps and a motion sensor light for the back yard and in the detached garage. That way, Eddie would always have a light to come home to, no matter what shift he worked, and the house would always look occupied regardless of what its occupants were up to. He was certainly happy he’d listened to Buck’s advice now, as he got the door open and could see the soft welcoming glow coming from the living room. Stepping aside just enough to allow Chris to shuffle in after him, Eddie shut the door behind them with a certain amount of reverence at being back in their home. More than Texas, this place was where Christopher grew up with Eddie’s friends and family from the 188 as Chris’s extended aunts and uncles. This was home.
Eddie dropped their bags out of the way in the hallway, noticing absently that the mess wasn’t as bad or as disorganized as he’d recalled it being. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought someone had come by and straightened some things out for him. However, since Bobby was the only one who knew their travel plans, and Eddie had already declined any help from the Grant-Nash household, he didn’t think that was the case.
Christopher had already made his way down the familiar hallway, not bothering to turn on anymore lights – and why would he? He knew this place like the back of his hand. – to his bedroom and had shut the door behind him. Probably getting himself reacquainted with his desktop setup and seeing if any of his friends were online to game, seeing as he no longer has his grandparents' strict rules about screentime to abide by. Shaking his head at the predictability of a computer obsessed teenage boy, Eddie made his way into the kitchen, figuring he’d dig out a couple of takeout menus and narrow down their options before interrupting Christopher for his opinion. He came to a jarring halt upon noticing a tin foil-covered Pyrex dish in the middle of his dining room table, sitting precisely where it could not be missed. And on top of the tin foil, primly placed, was a glossy piece of cardstock with a pen and ink drawing of a robin on it, and the block letter words:
ARE YOUDONE BEING AN ASSHOLE OR DO YOU NEED A FEW MORE MINUTES
Only one person would leave that and a ready-made meal for them. Feeling clumsy with anticipation, Eddie fumbled his phone out of his front pocket and found his way to Buck’s contact, pressing the call button before he could think twice about it. He waited with bated breath, unsure what he’d say – if he could even say anything – for Buck to pick up. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before Eddie realized he was hearing the selected ring tone, Buck had assigned for him somewhere in the house. Startled, Eddie leaned out of the kitchen doorway, allowing the phone to go to voicemail before reflexively hanging up. Wondering why he’d be hearing Buck’s ringtone, Eddie hit redial and strained his ears to listen. Feeling as if he was channeling Nancy Drew or one of the Hardy Boys, and trying not to draw parallels back to his time in the service, Eddie stalked through the front rooms of his house.
He hunted the sound of Buck’s phone ringing down to his bedroom where he found the man lying on Eddie’s neatly made bed. Buck was starting to stir, blindly reaching for his phone by patting the mattress beside him, when the device had been left on the nearby nightstand. Eddie turned on the bedside lamp to its lowest setting before cancelling the call from Buck’s end. He sat down on the mattress by Buck’s hip and watched, utterly charmed, as the younger man continued to rouse himself from sleep.
Eddie cataloged how Buck’s brows furrowed slightly even as movement flickered beneath his eyelids. Then a slight frown pulled at his lips, and his nose wrinkled cutely before he finally opened those big baby blues, blinking slowly once or twice before focusing on his partner.
“Oh, h-hey, Eddie,” Buck greeted him, that well-known nervous stutter-step over his words that Buck got, tugging a small smile out of Eddie. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” he continued, a yawn nearly overtaking the last word before he could get it out.
“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie waved him off. “I noticed you did some straightening up around here, thanks for that.”
“Of course, no problem.” As always, Buck brushed off his willingness to help as something anybody would do. When Eddie knew that wasn’t the case. Shifting a little on the bed, Buck moved into a sitting position, drawing his legs up the mattress so he sat with one folded underneath him and the other hanging off the side of the bed, foot resting on the floor, and Eddie adjusted his seat to keep him from feeling crowded. It felt as if something fragile between them could shatter at any moment with one careless action.
“How’d you get here? I didn’t see the jeep.”
“Uber, it’s a thing,” Buck replied, flashing Eddie a smirk and using that same teasing tone he’d used to ask Eddie once if he’d wanted to go for the title.
“Ah, uber,” Eddie hummed in understanding, “that’s a bit presumptuous of you.”
“Oh, d’ya think so,” Buck continued, his voice dropping lower even as his eyes lit with a mischievous twinkle. He leaned forward, then so that he was almost in Eddie’s personal space. “Well, some idiot thought he could call me the love of his life on a postcard, then leave – wanna talk about presumptuous.”
“Buck, I” –
Eddie didn’t get much further than that. Not when Buck had reached out to grab Eddie by the collar of his flannel shirt to pull him forward those last few inches and kiss him. After a stunned second or two, when Eddie found himself astonished by the feeling of Buck’s plush, slightly chapped, lips moving deliberately against his own, Eddie was quick to respond. He lost himself in the blissful give and take of a lingering kiss. Their movements were languid and drugging but not dispassionate. Eddie found himself leaning further into Buck, pushing him back towards the pillows, chasing the taste of him. A hand cradled the back of Buck’s head, toying with curls he found there, while his other arm braced himself against the mattress. Meanwhile, Buck’s free hand came to rest possessively on Eddie’s waist. It felt like hours, but couldn’t be more than a few minutes, before they both broke apart, desperate for air.
“I love you too, Eds. “ Buck admitted in the quiet between them as they both tried to catch their breath and Eddie felt his cheeks nearly split with the force of his joyous smile. A reaction that caused Buck to kiss him on the tip of his nose in return and set them both collapsing into giggles.
“Dad! Buck! What’s for dinner?” Christopher shouted down the hallway, setting them both off into another peal of uncontrollable laughter. Eddie didn’t know what tomorrow might bring them, but he felt it would be alright now that he had his kid and their Buck. Safe at home.