Chapter 1: The Weight of It
Chapter Text
Buck stood bone tired and emotionally drained, staring into the darkness of his open locker. The steam from the shower still clung to his skin, warm against the chill of the air-conditioned station. The events of the day had taken everything he had left and only seemed to intensify the ache in his body that had been building for weeks.
Behind him, the station buzzed with life, footsteps, conversation, the low hum of radios, but it all felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. Only Chimney’s words cut through the fog, playing on repeat in his head: “This is the 118, and it’s not just a number — it’s us.” Buck wanted to believe that. God, he needed to. But he didn’t know if he could.
“They’re gonna need you,” Bobby had said with his dying breath. What a lie that turned out to be. Buck had tried, really tried, to show up for his team, to carry them through the same grief that was quietly crushing him. He'd put his own pain aside, thinking maybe if he could be strong for them, it would help. Some of his efforts had been misguided, he’d be the first to admit that, but they came from a place of love. It just hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t been enough.
All he’d done was drive a wedge between himself and the people he’d once called family. It was Chimney who had rallied them. Chimney that had Eddie now considering moving back to LA, had everyone finding solid ground again and even had Buck weighing his decision to request a transfer out of the 118. Buck? All he’d managed to do was make things awkward and uncomfortable for everyone. He could still hear Eddie’s voice in his head, sharp with anger and frustration: “The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley, a tragedy in 97 acts.”
Buck shook his head and grabbed his go bag. He slammed the locker shut, the metal ringing louder than expected. He let his palm rest against the door, closing his eyes, trying to take a calming breath.
Maybe he had been selfish, clinging to Bobby’s traditions, trying to recreate something that no longer fit. What brought Buck comfort seemed only to remind the others of what they’d lost. So he’d backed off. Retreating into himself. And the silence of his friends and family that followed had been deafening.
No one noticed when he stopped checking in. No one said anything when he sat alone in the corner, only speaking when he had to. It was in that silence that the thought began to form, one he hadn’t been able to shake since.
Maybe it was time to leave the 118.
Not Los Angeles, his family was here. Maddie, his niece, his soon-to-arrive nephew. He didn’t want to run this time. But maybe it was time to find a different firehouse. Because without Bobby, he wasn’t sure there was still a place for him here.
Bobby had been more than a captain. He’d been the father Buck never had and always wanted. His compass. The one person Buck could turn to when everything else felt like too much. Their quiet conversations, some of the most grounding moments of his life, weren’t something even Eddie knew about.
And now Bobby was gone. And Buck felt untethered, drifting, questioning everything, including whether he still belonged to the family he’d fought so hard to find.
Sighing, Buck pushed away from his locker and turned to make his way out of the locker room. As he moved through the station, footsteps quickened behind him. He didn’t have to look back to know it was Eddie. Buck’s shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening instinctively, as if preparing for a fight. Ever since their argument in the kitchen a week ago, there's been an unease between them. It was the first time in all their years of friendship that Buck didn’t know how to be around him, and a part of him was questioning if he even wanted to be.
“Hey,” Eddie called out, catching up. “Can I grab a ride back home with you? I took an Uber to the scene.”
Buck didn’t stop walking. “Sure,” he said flatly, eyes forward.
They walked side by side through the hallway, but Buck didn’t try to fill the silence the way he usually would, no random facts, no dry jokes. Just quiet. For once, he let it stay that way.
In the parking lot, Buck unlocked the truck and tossed his bag in the backseat before climbing in. Eddie slid into the passenger seat beside him, shutting the door a little harder than necessary. The first few minutes of the drive slipped by in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the radio.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Eddie said, shifting in his seat.
Buck shrugged, eyes on the road. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t know how.
Eddie tried again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of transferring out?”
Buck glanced over, expression unreadable. “I knew what you would say and I needed to make the best decision for me.”
Eddie exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, Buck.”
“Good,” Buck said quickly. “Because I don’t have the energy for one.”
Eddie leaned back in his seat, voice tight. “I don’t know how to deal with you anymore. It feels like you think you’re the only one who lost him. Like we’re all fine and you’re the only one still holding the weight.”
Buck’s hands tensed on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I think.”
“Then what do you think?” Eddie asked, turning toward him. “Because you’re not saying much these days.”
Buck let out a bitter breath. “Every time I tried, it was the wrong thing. I tried to hold us together, and all I got was told I was making it about me.” He turned looking pointedly at Eddie, as if to remind him of all the times he had said those exact words to him. Instead, he just sighed and turned to look back at the road, deciding to not offer anything more. The silence that followed was heavier than anything they’d said. Eddie looked away, jaw tight, offering no response.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. The city blurred past, a rush of lights and motion, but none of it felt like home. Not anymore.
Buck pulled up in front of the house, parking behind what he assumed was Pepa’s car. All he wanted was to collapse on his bed and sleep for the next 12 hours, but he knew the second he walked in he’d have to put on a face for Chris and Pepa, and he didn’t know if he had it in him.
As Buck reached for his bag, Eddie opened the door with a sigh and muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” before heading inside without another word, not waiting for Buck to follow.
Buck watched him go, jaw tightening. He was really starting to regret subletting Eddie’s house. If he still had his loft, he could’ve dropped Eddie off and driven home. Alone.
****
The door clicked shut behind Buck as he stepped inside. The warmth of the house hit him all at once, the smell of food, the soft glow of the lamp light, the familiar sound of Chris’s laughter echoing faintly. It should’ve made him feel something good. Instead, it made his chest tighten.
“Buck!” Chris called out the moment he spotted him.
Buck forced a tired smile as he saw Chris sitting on the couch, his face lit up as he saw Buck, and reaching out with both arms, slow and deliberate, the motion slightly stiff but unmistakably clear.
Buck didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and crouched beside the couch, wrapping Chris in a careful, steady hug, holding on just a moment longer than he normally might’ve. Chris squeezed as best he could, one arm curling tight around Buck’s shoulder.
“You’re okay,” Chris mumbled into his hoodie. “You got out.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Buck whispered back, his throat tight. “I got out.”
Pepa stood just behind them, her arms folded gently over her chest. “We were watching the news,” she said quietly.
Buck pulled back from the hug and sat back on his heels, eyes fixed on the floor. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a breath. “It was a rough call.”
She moved to stand beside him and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, her grip tightening gently as she tried to offer him some comfort. “I made arroz con pollo,” she said softly. “It’s in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“I’m heating some up,” Eddie said, already rising from the couch with a glance toward the kitchen. He looked at Buck, not pressing but clearly waiting.
Buck stood, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks, but I’m good. I just want to sleep.”
Eddie took a small step forward. “You sure? You didn’t eat much at the station.”
Buck’s shoulders sank slightly. “Like I said, I’m good. Not hungry.”
The silence that followed was louder than any argument. Chris looked down, chewing his lip. Pepa frowned but didn’t press. Eddie lingered a beat longer, the frustration came off him in waves but said nothing as he turned to make his way into the kitchen.
Buck turned to look at Chris smiling softly and he said goodnight and headed towards the hallway.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he walked, but he didn’t move to check it. Not yet. He shut the door behind him, not slamming it, but not careful either. His bag hit the floor with a soft thud as Buck leaned against the door, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath all day. He stayed like that for a few moments before finally pushing off and walking toward the bed.
Still dressed, he collapsed face-down, the mattress gave a bounce as he fell, his feet hanging awkwardly off the bed, but he didn’t move to adjust. Muscles heavy. Eyes burning. He lay still, unsure how long time passed, until the murmur of voices in the hall tugged him back from the edge of sleep.
Groaning, Buck rolled onto his back and sat up slowly. Rubbing his hands down his face, he reached into his pocket and tossed his phone onto the bed. He’d check it in a minute. First, he grabbed a change of clothes, pulling on a clean T-shirt and sweats before quietly slipping out to the bathroom.
Just as he made his way to the bathroom door, he heard voices, Eddie and Chris, talking low in the living room.
“So what would you say to coming back to L.A.?” Eddie asked.
Buck paused. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but the question stopped him cold.
“Why?” Chris asked.
“This is home,” Eddie said. “Being out with the 118 today, God, I forgot how much I missed this. I know you’ve made friends in Texas, and I’m glad for that, but... you were happy here too.”
“Before you messed it up,” Chris said, quiet but clear.
Buck winced, not needing to see Eddie’s face to feel the impact.
“Yeah,” Eddie said after a beat. “I did. And I’m sorry, Chris. I never meant to hurt you. That’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”
There was a creak from the couch, Buck imagined that Chris was reaching out to hug his dad.
“So… what do you think? Would you be okay moving back after the school year?”
“Where would we live?” Chris asked.
Buck held his breath.
Eddie laughed. “Here, of course. This is our house.”
“So… we’d live with Buck?”
“No. He’d have his own place again. He moved in to help while I was with you in Texas.”
And there it was.
Buck’s grip on the doorframe tightened. Hearing Eddie own up to the past should’ve eased something. But all he could feel was the hollow ache of being left out again. Of being an afterthought.
Of course Eddie hadn’t talked to him about this. Why would he? Buck had only been living here. Holding the house together. Picking up the pieces Eddie left behind.
He shouldn’t be surprised. But it still stung. Guess I’m moving, he thought, turning he headed back to his room, careful not to make a sound as he closed the door behind him.
Buck dropped onto the edge of the bed, the mattress barely giving beneath him. This place had never felt like home, more like borrowed space, so the thought of finding a new place didn’t upset him, but the idea that Eddie could decide for him, without even talking to him first, that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He didn’t know when Eddie would want to move back in, and that started to stress him out as he didn’t know where he’d go. His loft was long gone. Maddie and Chimney were preparing for the baby. Bobby…Bobby was gone. And he doubted Athena was up for having a roommate, he thought with a laugh.
He let himself fall backward onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath him. For a moment, he just lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to process everything he just heard, but the buzz of his phone tugged at his attention.Reaching for it, he unlocked the screen and saw he had a few missed messages. One from Maddie asking him to call her. He didn’t have to guess why, Chim had probably told her about the transfer request.
But it was the second message that made him pause. Tommy.
They were in a weird place, they weren’t back together, but they also weren’t strictly friends either. Tommy had been there for Buck in the immediate aftermath of Bobby’s death. He’d been the one to take him home after the debriefing, the FBI, the Army, and everything that had followed since Bobby’s death.
That first night, Tommy had been his rock. They’d both been in shock, in denial that Bobby was really gone. Buck had always known Tommy respected Bobby, but it wasn’t until then that he realized just how deep that connection ran for his ex. Tommy opened up to him that night, sharing some of his favourite memories from his time at the 118 with Bobby, Hen and Chim. He also told him that Bobby had been the first person in the LAFD Tommy ever came out to and was there supporting him as he navigated his way to becoming an LAFD pilot. Bobby had given him the confidence to be himself. Even after Tommy transferred to Harbour Station, they’d kept in touch.
After that night, they texted occasionally. Brief check-ins, but nothing too deep. At Bobby’s funeral, Tommy had walked with them as pallbearers, shoulder to shoulder with the 118, but they’d barely spoken. He knew there was a lot they needed to talk about, but he hadn’t been in the head space to have what he knew would be an emotional conversation. He was also scared. Scared to hope that maybe they wouldn’t get a second chance.
He opened the message.
Tommy: Heard about the building collapse. Hope you’re okay and managed to avoid the hospital this time.
Tommy: Let me know you’re okay. Or if you need anything.
He didn’t want to ask for help. But he couldn’t keep doing this, carrying the grief like it was nothing, pretending the silence didn’t eat him alive. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, uncertain. He didn’t even know what he needed. Just that he couldn’t sit in the dark alone again. Not tonight. Not after everything. He just knew he couldn’t do another night pretending he was okay. He needed Tommy.
Evan: Still in one piece. No trips to the ER this time
He hesitated, taking a deep breath, he added:
Evan : Can I see you?
He didn’t know if Tommy was working. Or even awake. But still, he waited, willing a response to come. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long as the typing bubble appeared quickly.
Tommy: Of course. Did you want me to come to you?
Buck: Is it okay if I come to you?
His nerves flared. He bit his lip, watching.
Tommy: You’re always welcome here.
Buck smiled faintly. Once, that wouldn’t have been true. Not right after their breakup. But now, he was glad they were in a better place.
Evan: I can head over now if that’s okay?
Evan: Did you want me to bring anything?
Tommy: Head over whenever. I’ll be here.
Tommy: You can if you want, but I’ve got food.
Evan: On my way.
Buck grabbed his favourite hoodie to throw over his t-shirt, and fished his keys and wallet out his jeans, before making his way out of his room. He made his way to the front door, hoping to make a quick exit, but knew that would be hard with the living room right by the front door.
“Going somewhere?” Eddie asked, eyes flicking over to him.
Buck didn’t stop moving. “Yup,” he said simply. “Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Buck—”
He shook his head. “Message me if you’re going to the airport tomorrow. I’ll come say goodbye.”
With that, he stepped out into the night and shut the door behind him.
****
The drive to Tommy’s went by faster than Buck expected. He’d spent most of it trying to mentally prepare for seeing his ex after so long, just the two of them, no interruptions, no distractions. The closer he got, the more that familiar gnawing weight pressed down on his chest. He couldn’t quite name it. Guilt? Grief? Or maybe it was that quiet, persistent fear that whatever fragile thread had reconnected them might snap if he pulled too hard.
He didn’t want to lose Tommy. Not again.
He parked a little crooked on the curb and sat in the driver’s seat with the engine ticking softly beneath him. For a long moment, he just breathed, slow, shallow, in and out, staring at the familiar house. It hadn’t changed. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
Taking one last deep breath, Buck got out and made his way up the walkway, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie. He didn’t knock. He didn’t have to. Tommy opened the door before he could lift a hand.
“Hey,” Tommy said, voice soft.
Buck paused, held still in the comfort of Tommy’s presence, the kindness in his eyes, the way they crinkled with the smallest smile.
“Hey,” he echoed, and stepped inside.
Tommy’s place hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here. There was a comfort in being there again. The smells, the folded blanket on the back of the couch that Buck used to wrap around himself as they sat on the couch watching a movie or something random Buck would throw on.
They lingered awkwardly in the entryway, unsure of how to start.
“Can I get you anything?” Tommy finally asked, gently breaking the silence.
Buck hesitated. “Some tea would be great.”
Tommy nodded and made his way into the kitchen preparing both of them a cup of tea. He came back a few minutes later, with a cup in each hand, and a box of Tommy’s favourite cookies under his arm. “You can’t have tea without a cookie,” Tommy had once said to him. So it had become their thing when they wanted to settle in for the night, tea and chocolate cookies.
Buck grabbed his cup from Tommy and settled back into the couch. Tommy sat on the other end, offering Buck a cookie before tossing the box on his coffee table. He sat angled so he could look at Buck, blowing on his tea before taking a tentative sip. Sitting in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Buck finally spoke.
The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on Buck like a heavy fog. He wasn’t sure why he’d come, or what he hoped to say. Maybe he should start small, casual, like ‘how have you been?’, but that felt wrong and he knew Tommy would see right through him.
Instead, his voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Tommy’s gaze softened as he leaned forward, voice gentle but steady. “Evan, what on earth do you have to be sorry for?”
Buck let out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on a spot just past Tommy’s shoulder. “Everything?” he offered, voice barely above a whisper. He gave a helpless shrug, the kind that carried more weight than any apology ever could.
“For pushing us when we weren’t ready. For the awful things I said that morning in the kitchen.” His voice cracked, the next words catching somewhere deep in his chest. “For pulling away after Bobby… after he died.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glinting with the tears he hadn’t quite let fall. “Take your pick.”
Tommy set his mug on the table. Then, without hesitation, he reached forward, took Buck’s cup from his hands and set it aside, too. He closed the space between them and wrapped his fingers gently around Buck’s.
“You weren’t the only one who made mistakes,” Tommy said gently. “And after Bobby…I didn’t want to push. I knew how much you were hurting, but I didn’t know what you needed, and I was afraid if I got it wrong, I’d just make it worse.”
Buck looked down, then pulled his hands free to rub at his face, suddenly exhausted. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy, rimmed red.
“Since Bobby died, it’s like something inside me cracked wide open, and now I can’t seem to close it. I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time. Grief, guilt, anger…it all just blends together. And the worst part is, I keep trying to carry it like he would’ve wanted me to, but I’m not him. I’m not steady like that.”
Tommy’s voice softened. “Evan.”
“I was scared,” Buck said, cutting in. “Scared that if I leaned on you, I’d need too much. That I’d be this… broken, clinging thing and you’d regret letting me back in.”
He hesitated, his words trembling.
“I didn’t want to be something you felt stuck with,” he whispered. “I was scared you’d start to see me as a burden. And I, I didn’t know where else to put all this grief. All this mess. I didn’t know how to hold it alone, but I was too afraid to ask you to help carry it.”
Tommy didn’t hesitate.
“You are never too much for me, Evan.” His voice was soft, but filled with quiet certainty. “I wish you’d reached out when it got too heavy. I would’ve carried it with you. You don’t have to be afraid. Not with me.”
Buck blinked, startled by the force of those words.
“I don’t know who made you believe your needs were something to apologize for,” Tommy said, his voice thick with emotion. “But they were wrong. I should’ve pushed harder to be there for you. I should’ve shown you that you didn’t have to carry it alone. Because if you’d let me, I would’ve held you. I wouldn’t have let you fall. My arms…they would’ve been your safe place to land.”
And that, that was the moment the tears came.
He couldn’t stop them. This was why he hadn’t been able to let Tommy go. Why he hadn’t even wanted to try. Because Tommy saw him, really saw him, in a way no one else ever had. He made Buck feel not just understood, but safe. Cherished.
“Tommy,” Buck choked out, reaching for him. He pulled him in with clumsy desperation, their bodies folding awkwardly into each other on the narrow couch.
“I’ve got you, Evan,” Tommy whispered against his ear.
Those four words cracked something wide open. The sobs ripped free, raw and unfiltered. Buck clung to him, fingers fisted in his shirt, face buried in the crook of his neck as grief surged like a flood. Tommy didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t ask for words. He just held him, firm and steady, one hand moving in slow circles across Buck’s back, murmuring quiet, grounding things that didn’t need to be heard to be felt.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Buck let himself fall apart—knowing someone was there to hold him through it.
****
Buck didn’t know how long he cried.
Time blurred in the warmth of Tommy’s arms, his sobs eventually softened to shallow breaths, and then to silence. Tommy never letting go.
He just adjusted slightly, letting Buck rest heavier against him, tucking him in without a word. Buck’s hands stayed curled into the fabric of Tommy’s shirt, holding on like he didn’t trust the world not to shift under him again. And Tommy let him.
Buck’s breathing began to even out, though his face was still damp, eyes swollen and red. His cheek rested against Tommy’s shoulder, his body limp with the exhaustion that always followed that kind of collapse. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t trying to hold it all together.
After a few minutes, Buck shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, voice still ragged but steadier now. “For...” He trailed off.
How was he supposed to explain it? That Tommy’s words had settled something in him he hadn’t realized was still fraying. That the way Tommy held him hadn’t made him feel weak, but safe. That it had been so long since anyone had made him feel like he didn’t have to apologize for falling apart.
“For everything,” he finally said, voice soft. A quiet smile flickered across his lips as their eyes met.
Tommy’s expression gentled even more. “Evan, you don’t have to thank me for being here,” he said simply. “It means everything to me that you let me.”
Buck blinked at that, like the words had caught him off guard, but he didn’t look away.
“I don’t know what this is,” he admitted quietly. “Us. I’m not even sure where I stand with myself right now, let alone with you.”
“I know,” Tommy said. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. We both have a lot to say, a lot to work through. But maybe we can at least agree we want to try, to see if there’s a way back to each other.”
That, more than any promise, eased something deep in Buck’s chest.
“Yeah,” Buck said softly. “I want that too.”
“We’ll take it slow. As slow as we need to,” Tommy added. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”
Buck nodded. “I like the sound of that.” He lifted a hand, gently cupping the side of Tommy’s face. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and there’s hurt we still have to work through. But you have to know…there was something about you I just couldn’t let go of. I didn’t want to. Even when everyone told me to move on.”
“I didn’t want to let go of you either,” Tommy said quietly, honestly.
Buck leaned in, forehead resting against Tommy’s, eyes closed. “I’m kind of gone for you, Tommy Kinard.”
Tommy huffed a soft laugh, his smile brushing against Buck’s. “I’m kinda gone for you too, Evan Buckley.”
Chapter 2: Flashpoint
Summary:
Buck and Tommy share a morning of hesitant reconnection. As they unpack old wounds and try to make sense of their fractured relationship, Buck begins to admit just how much he's been carrying and how far he’s drifted from the 118.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy woke slowly to the soft weight of another person curled against him and the dull ache in his back that only came from sleeping on the couch. God, he was getting old, he laughed to himself. A soft golden wash painted across the living room as morning sun slipped through the curtains. For a moment, he didn’t move. He wasn’t quite ready to let the quiet go.
Buck was still asleep, tucked close against his side, his head resting on Tommy’s chest, one hand curled into the fabric of his hoodie like a lifeline. His breaths were slow, even, the kind of sleep that only came after a weight had been lifted. Tommy could still feel the way Buck had shaken in his arms the night before, how he’d clung to him like Tommy was the only thing holding him together.
He tightened his arm around him just slightly, mindful not to wake him, and rested his chin lightly atop Buck’s head.
They hadn’t meant to fall asleep like this, but somewhere between the tears and the closeness, Buck had sagged into him, exhausted, wrung out, and Tommy hadn’t had the heart to let go. So he didn’t. And somewhere in the silence that followed, his own eyes had drifted closed.
Tommy let his gaze wander across the living room, the mugs on the table next to the forgotten cookie box, Buck’s boots still by the door. All small signs that he was actually here. That he had chosen to be here. And for the first time in months, Tommy allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he and Buck could come out of this stronger than ever. God, he wanted that.
He knew he’d messed up the night they broke up. He’d panicked, and instead of talking things through, he’d left. Breaking both their hearts in the process. He regretted it the second he walked out the door, but was too scared to turn around and fix it.
Buck terrified Tommy. No one had ever gotten under his skin like that. He’d never felt for anyone what he felt for Buck. And instead of facing that vulnerability, he’d told himself he was just a phase for Buck. But looking back now, he knew how ridiculous that was. Buck wore his heart on his sleeve and had never once made him feel like he was anything less than all in.
So rather than opening up and talking through his fears with Buck, he pushed them aside, only to have them come back with vengeance that night, leaving him reeling with fear and doubt, even as Buck was asking him to move in with him.
For months afterward, Tommy had fought the urge to text him. He couldn’t count how many times he’d reached for his phone, ready to share a random fact because he knew Buck would love it, only to stop himself, breath catching in his throat as reality sank in.
That night at the bar when Ravi brought him over to Buck as he was downing a shot, Tommy hadn’t known what to expect. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, and then Buck had flirted with him. Invited him to see his new place. And all rational thought left his brain.
Sex had never been a problem for them. Even in the beginning, Buck had been curious, open, and eager, their chemistry immediate and electric. There was a hunger between them, physical, emotional, that left them both breathless. But words? That’s where things got harder. Vulnerability in the light of day. That night had been no different, they’d fallen into old rhythms, lost themselves in the heat and familiarity of it. But by morning, it unravelled. One offhand comment. One flicker of fear. Buck had flinched and pushed back, hard. And Tommy, still too afraid to push forward, had walked away. Again.
He’d expected that to be the last time he ever saw Buck.
So when the call came, Buck frantic, asking for help, Tommy hadn’t hesitated. He’d owed Chimney, sure, but mostly, he felt he had something to prove, that he wanted to show Buck that he’d be there, no matter what. Even if it meant risking his own career.
He hadn’t thought the night would end with heartbreak.
Even now, it didn’t feel real that Bobby was gone. The image of Buck collapsing in the hallway outside the lab would haunt Tommy forever. He could feel Buck’s scream down to his bones, raw and agonized. Tommy had frozen, unsure if he had the right to step in, unsure if he was still Buck’s person. But when Buck stood up and started walking toward the command centre, something in Tommy snapped into place.
He met him halfway, and Buck folded into him. Wordless. Shattered. Tommy held on.
He helped him out of his gear, stayed with him as he answered questions from the FBI and army, his hands never leaving Buck’s back.
Later, back at Buck’s place, Tommy had led him to bed, undressed them both, and held him through the night. It had been a restless sleep, but at least they weren’t alone. The next day, Tommy left with a hug and a promise. Buck hadn’t really reached out after that, but Tommy texted anyway. Not too often. Just enough to remind Buck he was there.
It wasn’t until Buck told him about the funeral, about Athena asking him to be a pallbearer, that their conversations started to pick up again. Still surface-level. Still careful. But it was something.
So when the message came last night, ‘Can I see you?’, Tommy didn’t hesitate to say yes.
He hadn’t expected Buck to look so exhausted. Worn thin at the edges. He’d assumed the 118 would be holding him up, surrounding him the way they always had. But seeing him last night, really seeing him, Tommy wasn’t so sure. Buck looked like someone barely keeping himself together. And for the first time, Tommy wondered if anyone was actually noticing. If anyone was truly seeing him at all.
Last night hadn’t gone like he expected. But it felt…real. Like they’d finally pulled the bandages off the wounds and stopped pretending they weren’t bleeding.
Buck shifted slightly, a soft hum catching in his throat as he stirred. Tommy stilled, then gently rubbed his hand along Buck’s back in slow, grounding circles.
Buck blinked up at him, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Morning,” he murmured, voice thick and rough.
“Morning,” Tommy echoed with a soft smile. “Sleep okay?”
Buck nodded, then nestled in closer, just for a second. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“I didn’t mind,” Tommy said. And he meant it. Some of his favourite memories from before had been of Buck half-asleep on his shoulder, murmuring random anecdotes between yawns while they watched documentaries neither of them ever finished.
Buck gave a soft, breathy laugh, his cheek still pressed to Tommy’s chest. “Guess some things don’t change,” he murmured.
When they felt Buck’s stomach rumble, they both laughed. Buck ducked his head, flushing.
“I think someone’s hungry,” Tommy teased, poking him in the stomach. “How do you feel about breakfast?”
“You don’t have to,” Buck began, always quick to deflect, but Tommy cut him off with a soft shake of his head.
“You aren’t the only one who’s hungry,” he said simply, then added more quietly, “And I don’t want you to leave yet.”
Buck’s expression softened. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Okay. Breakfast sounds good.”
Tommy smiled, standing with a stretch that made his back crack audibly. “God, this couch is gonna be the death of me.”
Buck laughed. “Getting old?”
Tommy shot him a look over his shoulder. “Rude…I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”
That earned a big smile from Buck, the kind that started slow but lit up his whole face. The kind Tommy hadn’t seen in far too long. It made his chest ache in the best way, a small reminder of everything he’d missed.
“I never said you weren’t,” Buck said, voice a little softer now, but with an unmistakable heat to it, his gaze drifting, slow and deliberate, as it made its way down his chest, over the curve of his hip, and lingering for just a beat too long.
Heat rushed through Tommy’s body as he felt the way Buck looked at him. Like he still wanted him. Like maybe last night had settled something inside him too. Not fixed everything, but quieted the part of him that had been afraid Buck didn’t feel the same anymore.
Tommy cleared his throat, glancing at Buck lounging on his couch, “Eyes up, Buckley. Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
Buck raised his hands in mock surrender, but the grin that tugged at his lips was anything but innocent. “Who says I can’t finish?”
Tommy arched a brow, but there was no real warning in his expression, just fond exasperation and the faintest hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m just sitting here,” Buck said, shrugging as he stretched his arms over the back of the couch, the motion lazy and practiced, like he knew exactly what it did to Tommy. “You’re the one making this difficult.”
Tommy turned away from Buck and made his way into the kitchen shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”
Buck’s voice came softer now, almost tentative. “Maybe. But you don’t look like you mind.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes warm. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”
Buck stood up, stretching, giving Tommy a hint of his toned stomach beneath his hoodie, “Can I help?” Buck asked, already padding over to the kitchen.
“You can sit there and look pretty,” Tommy teased, nudging a chair out with his foot.
Buck rolled his eyes but sat. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue.”
Tommy grinned to himself as he pulled open the fridge, reaching for the eggs and bacon. “I missed this,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”
A beat passed. Then, softer, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, “Missed you.”
Tommy paused, hand stilling on the carton of eggs. He didn’t turn around right away, just stood there for a moment, letting the words settle between them like something sacred.
Then, softly, “Yeah,” he said. “I missed you too.”
He set the eggs and bacon on the counter and finally turned, meeting Buck’s eyes. There was no teasing in his expression now, just the kind of honesty that came when there was nothing left to lose.
“I never really stopped,” Tommy added. “Even when I tried.”
Buck’s gaze dropped to the table, “Me neither,” he said, voice just above a whisper.
Tommy turned back to the stove, the air thick with unspoken words, but somehow he still felt lighter, like maybe the worst of the storm had passed.
He cracked the eggs gently into the pan, letting them sizzle as the smell of bacon began to fill the room. He worked methodically, trying not to overthink the fact that Buck was still sitting there at his kitchen table, watching him.
“You want toast with this?” Tommy asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Buck nodded, his voice still a little rough. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
Tommy tossed a couple slices into the toaster and turned back to flip the bacon. Behind him, he could hear Buck shifting in his seat, his knee knocking lightly against the table leg, a soft, absent hum escaping his throat as he fiddled with the edge of his sleeve.
When the plates were finally full of eggs, bacon, and toast with too much butter, just the way Buck liked it, Tommy set one in front of him and sat across the table with his own.
He shifted slightly in his seat, carefully weighing his next words. “So,” he said lightly, “do you want to talk about what brought you here last night?”
Buck tensed, his shoulders bunching. He opened his mouth like he might wave it off, make a joke, but then he closed it again. Tommy didn’t press, yet. He let the quiet linger.
“Evan,” he said gently, just enough weight in his tone to let Buck know it was safe to be honest here.
Buck sighed and slouched forward, setting his fork down beside his plate. “Things at the 118...they’re different,” he said after a pause. “Everything’s been different since Bobby died.”
Tommy nodded, motioning for him to continue.
“I tried,” Buck continued. “I really did. To step up. Like he asked me to. Bobby told me they’d need me.” His voice caught, “But that hasn’t been true. Not even close.”
He finally looked up, eyes rimmed red. “I don’t know if they ever really did.”
Tommy’s chest clenched. “Evan, of course they needed you, still need you. You’ve always been the heart of the 118.”
Buck let out a small, humourless laugh. “Bobby was the heart. I was just the dumb kid they let hang around.”
Tommy reached across the table and gently laid his hand over Buck’s, thumb brushing slowly along his knuckles. “That’s not true. You forget, I was there too. I worked under Bobby for almost two years before I transferred to Harbour Station. I know what it was like before you.”
He held Buck’s gaze. “Bobby brought stability. But that team didn’t become a family until you showed up. That closeness? That spark? You brought it with you.”
Buck looked like he was going to argue, but Tommy cut him off gently.
“Bobby may have held everyone together, but you were the one who made them want to be held. You changed the entire energy of that station, Evan. You reminded everyone that it was more than a job, that they were a team. A family.”
Buck blinked down at their hands, silent. Tommy could see the way the words settled in him, like he wanted to believe them but didn’t quite know how.
Buck gave a small nod, then used his free hand to take another bite of toast. Tommy didn’t rush him.
“I knew it would be different with Bobby gone,” Buck said quietly. “But I guess I thought we’d get through it together. Like we always have.”
He swallowed hard. “I’ve just…been drifting. Trying to be strong for everyone, to keep things from falling apart. But it hasn’t helped. It’s just made things worse. Everything feels fractured now.”
He hesitated. “Me and Eddie…we’re not in a good place. We had a fight. A big one. And now I don’t know where we stand.”
Tommy frowned, concern deepening in his chest. “And the others?”
Buck gave a slight shrug. “Hen’s been distant. Chimney’s been dealing with his own guilt and grief. They’ve mostly stuck together. I’ve just…been on the outside.”
Tommy’s heart broke a little. “So you’ve been dealing with all of this alone?”
Buck didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“I’m so sorry, Evan.” Tommy’s voice cracked. “I really thought they’d be there for you. If I’d known…”
He trailed off, the ache in his chest swelling as he looked at the man across from him, the one who had always carried more than his share, even when it broke him.
Buck took a shaky breath and pulled his hand back to rub at the back of his neck. “I put in for a transfer.”
Tommy blinked. “You did?”
Buck nodded, “I thought it was for the best. The 118 just isn’t the same without Bobby and I don’t feel like I have a place. I just...I know they care about me, but at the same time, it feels like all I do is frustrate them. I don’t know how to be there without Bobby. I’m not sure I want to be.”
Tommy sat there in shock, those were words he never thought he’d hear from Buck, that he wanted to leave the 118.
“I told the team yesterday that I had put in a request, after Hen had let us know she passed on being Captain.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. Wants to focus on her kids. Which I get.” He let out a tired sigh. “After the collapse, Chim gave this speech about Bobby and the house and keeping it together. Said Eddie wasn’t going back to El Paso. Said I wasn’t transferring out. That we were staying a team.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Tommy said gently.
“It was a good speech, but..” he paused, “Hen called him ‘Cap’,” Buck said with a dry laugh.
“Chimney’s stepping up?” Tommy asked, surprised that his friend wanted to step up. When they had talked, he always said he wasn’t interested in being Captain.
Buck shrugged, “Don’t know, but it sounded like it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Buck admitted. “Do I stay and hope it gets better? Or do I push for the transfer, get out before I end up resenting all of them?”
“Do you want to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Buck said, eyes suddenly glassy again. “That’s the thing. I don’t know if I want to stay because it’s what Bobby asked, or if I just want to stop hurting. I’m so tired of feeling like I’m not enough. Of being the one that doesn’t fit.”
“You’re not the one that doesn’t fit,” Tommy said, steady and sure. “You’re just someone who’s grieving in a space that hasn’t made room for that grief. That’s not your fault.”
Buck blinked, the words hitting harder than they should’ve. “Then why does it feel like it is?”
Tommy gave a soft, sad smile. “Because you’ve always carried the weight of everything like it was yours to hold. Even when it wasn’t.”
Buck didn’t answer, just nodded slowly.
“I don’t have the answer, Evan,” Tommy said. “But I know you don’t have to figure it out today. And you don’t have to figure it out alone.”
Buck looked at him, eyes full of a quiet gratitude that made Tommy’s chest ache. “Thank you,” he said softly, turning his hand to grab hold of Tommy’s, giving it a gentle squeeze.
They finished up their breakfast in silence. Tommy struggling to find words to comfort Buck. A wave of guilt washed over him with Buck’s confession. He had been dealing with so much on his own. He knew the loss of Bobby was hitting Buck harder than the rest, and for them to not check in, to have Buck feeling so isolated, was not ok.
Buck stood when they finished, grabbing both their plates as he made his way to the sink.
“You don’t have to—” Tommy started.
“You cooked, I clean,” Buck said simply.
Tommy smiled and moved to the coffee machine, brewing a fresh pot while Buck rinsed the dishes.
“What are your plans for today?” Tommy asked when they sat down.
“Don’t know. I should probably head home at some point.”
“You don’t sound eager to do that.”
Buck shrugged, “Eddie’s still there.” Was all he said, like that answered all the questions.
He didn’t know what went on between them, in all the time he knew them, he had never seen them fight, so it must have been something big if it had Buck hesitating in spending time with his best friend.
“Oh,” was all Tommy said, not wanting to push Buck. They had had a lot of heavy conversations over the past twelve hours, and didn’t think Buck had a third in him.
“After our fight, Eddie brought Chris to visit,” Buck said eventually. “Sort of a peace offering, I think. And I was happy to see Chris, I always am, but it just made the distance between us feel bigger.”
Tommy reached out and pulled Buck closer, letting them lean into each other, arms loosely wrapped around his side.
They sat like that for a while, letting the silence say what words couldn’t.
Buck’s voice was small when he finally spoke again. “Last night…he asked Chris if he’d want to move back to LA. And when Chris asked where they’d live, Eddie said they’d move back into the house. That I’d move out.”
Tommy’s jaw tightened. He held Buck a little closer. “What does that mean for you?”
Buck gave a weary shrug. “Guess I’m moving. Again.”
“That’s not right.”
“I can’t keep Chris out of his home. And Eddie knows that. I just…wish he’d talked to me first. Like I mattered in the decision.”
Tommy’s heart broke again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know how much that friendship meant to you.”
Buck just nodded. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
“If you need somewhere to crash,” Tommy said without hesitation, “you’ve got a place here.”
They weren’t there yet, not ready to share a space full-time, but the thought of Buck not having somewhere safe? That wasn’t something Tommy could live with.
Buck smiled faintly. “Thanks. Hopefully I’ve got some time to find a new place, but I’ll let you know.”
“Since you aren’t rushing to get out of here, how about a lazy morning of just hanging out here on the couch with me? I’m sure there is something entertaining we can throw on the TV.”
Buck settled in beside him, his body finally relaxing. “I’d like that.”
They found an old travel documentary about Italy, and Tommy leaned into Buck’s side, the warmth between them grounding.
“Did you know Italy has more UNESCO World Heritage Sites than any other country?” Buck asked, tone light.
“Do they?” Tommy hummed, stretching his arm along the back of the couch.
“Yup. Over 50 of them.”
“Ever been?”
Buck shook his head. “Not yet. But one day.”
They spent the rest of the morning like that, curled up on the couch, the quiet hum of the documentary filling the room, broken only by Buck’s soft voice offering up the kind of trivia only he would know. Random facts about Italy, ancient cities, sun-soaked coastlines, and ruins that had stood longer than memory. Tommy listened, half to the words and half to the sound of Buck sounding like himself again.
There was still so much they needed to figure out. So much more they needed to say. But it was a step forward, and one Tommy was happy to take.
****
When Buck finally left Tommy’s house later that afternoon, they’d agreed to meet up the next day for a hike at Sandstone Peak. Buck was excited. Back when they’d first started dating, there hadn’t been much time for actual dates, shift work made everything harder. But this time, he wanted things to be different. He wanted them to build something steady. He wanted them to have memories that weren’t just made between closed doors.
He slid into his truck and pulled away slowly, windows half-down, letting the warm air wash over him. The light had shifted into the soft gold of late day, casting long shadows across the streets of LA. He smiled as he caught a familiar scent, his hoodie still smelled like Tommy, the perfect mix of cologne and cocoa mango shampoo. It comforted him more than he wanted to admit.
His phone buzzed in the cupholder. Maddie. Again. Probably checking in, probably worried. Buck sighed, running a hand over his face. He knew he needed to call her back. He just wasn’t ready.
By the time he pulled up outside the house, the sun had already dipped behind the neighbour’s roofline. He sat parked for a few minutes, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. The house looked still. Quiet. Maybe Eddie and Chris weren’t home.
The thought should’ve brought relief. But it didn’t. It stung.
He never thought there’d come a day when he was avoiding Eddie and Chris. But something had shifted between them. Maybe it started with the whole Kim debacle, or maybe it had been building quietly for years. This wasn’t the first, or even the second, time Eddie had all but called him selfish. And that night in the kitchen still lived somewhere deep in Buck’s chest.
Deep down, he believed Eddie would never hit him. But the fear had been real that night, and that mattered, even if he didn’t want it to.
Either way, the fracture had widened. And now Buck didn’t know where they stood. He didn’t know how to fix it. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
He finally climbed out of the truck, and walked up the steps to the front door. The house was still, no lights on in the front room. Maybe he was right. Maybe Eddie had taken Chris to Pepa’s for the night.
Buck stepped inside, soft footsteps echoing across the hardwood as he moved through the house slowly.
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
Buck startled, whipping around. Eddie stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, jaw set tight.
“Jesus Eddie, you scared the shit out of me,” Buck said, breath catching.
“I was standing here the whole time, you were the one sneaking in.”
“I wasn’t sneaking,” Buck shot back, bristling.
Eddie scoffed, “Where were you? Chris was hoping to spend more time with you before we leave tomorrow.”
Of course Eddie was using the Chris card to make him feel guilty. “Out,” Buck said flatly.
“Out,” Eddie repeated.
“I’m a grown man, Eddie. I don’t have to check in with you. I don’t owe you a schedule.”
Buck’s voice rang louder than he intended, echoing a little too harshly in the quiet house. He looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening as guilt and fatigue started to weigh him down.
The silence that followed hung heavy. He didn’t mean to pick a fight. Not really. He just didn’t know how to talk to Eddie anymore. Not without everything coming out wrong.
Eddie shifted where he stood, arms still crossed, watching him.
Then, quieter, controlled, but no less sharp, “I get that you’re grieving,” he said. “We all are. But it’s like you think you’re the only one who lost someone.”
Buck looked at him then, eyes wide. “What?”
“You act like Bobby was only yours,” Eddie continued, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Like no one else could possibly understand what you’re going through. I flew back from Texas to bury him too, Buck. He was important to me. To Chris.”
Buck’s mouth opened, but the words stuck in his throat. His mind flashed back to the hallway outside the lab, to Bobby’s body on the ground, to the scream that tore out of him. Eddie hadn’t seen that. Hadn’t been there for it. He hadn’t seen what Buck saw.
“I never said he wasn’t,” Buck said eventually, voice low. “But you weren’t there, Eddie. You didn’t—”
“Don’t,” Eddie snapped. “Don’t pull that card.”
“I’m not pulling anything,” Buck said, the frustration creeping into his voice. “I just...I’ve been trying to keep it together, to be strong for everyone, and maybe I’ve been failing at that, but I’m doing my best.”
Eddie didn’t respond. Just stared, his face unreadable.
The silence dragged.
Buck could feel the heat rising behind his eyes, a pressure building in his chest that he didn’t quite know how to name. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, like he could scrub away the tension there.
“I’m tired, Eddie.” The words came out quieter than he expected. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Seems like that’s all we do lately.”
Buck didn’t know how to respond to that and knew anything he said was going to just make things work.
Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I waited around all day to talk to you, but I have to go to Pepa’s. We’re staying the night there as Chris and I are leaving in the morning. But we’re coming back.”
He paused, voice quieter now. “We’re moving back. And obviously, we’ll be moving back in.”
Buck had expected this. But hearing it, just like that, matter-of-fact, still knocked the wind out of him.
He swallowed, then asked, “When do I need to be out?”
There was a part of Buck that wanted to argue, to call Eddie out for just assuming Buck would leave, should leave. He didn’t factor in Eddie's plans. Eddie didn’t know if Buck was going to be able to find a new place, or where he would stay if he couldn’t. But what would be the point? Once Eddie made up his mind there was no talking him out of it. And was tired, he just didn’t have it in him anymore to care, to fight.
“A few weeks,” Eddie said. “Chris will finish out the school year, then we’ll drive back with our stuff.”
Buck just nodded and the two of them just stared at each other, not knowing what else to say.
“I should go,” Eddie finally said, stepping forward to grab a packed duffel from the hall.
“Say goodbye to Chris for me, I appreciate you bringing him up, it was good to see him.”
Eddie paused, nodded once, and then walked out without another word.
Buck stood in the centre of the room, heart pounding. The house felt colder now, empty in a way it hadn’t felt in years. For a second, he considered calling Tommy. Just to hear his voice. Just to not feel so alone.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he crossed to the couch and sat down heavily, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He didn’t know if he was more hurt or angry, or just tired. Maybe all of it.
He was trying. That’s what no one seemed to see. He was trying to hold all the pieces together, even when none of them fit the way they used to.
He sat like that for a long time. Alone. His world just felt like it kept falling around him and he didn’t know how to fix it.
Notes:
Thanks to everyone who liked and commented on chapter 1, I hope you enjoyed this one, as always, love to hear from you!
Chapter 3: Controlled Burn
Summary:
Buck can’t outrun the feeling that he doesn’t belong but a hike with Tommy offers a quiet reprieve, a chance to breathe, and the beginning of a much needed conversation.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck woke slowly the next morning, disoriented for a moment. He still wasn’t used to waking up in Eddie’s house, even after months of staying here. No matter how hard he tried, he could never really settle in.
The couch creaked beneath him as he shifted, muscles stiff from another night spent in an awkward position. He blinked up at the ceiling, letting the haze of sleep fade, until memory returned in fragments, Eddie’s voice sharp, the door closing behind him, the echo of everything that hadn’t been said.
As he sat up, a sharp twinge in his lower back made him wince.
Two nights in a row on a couch. Clearly, his back wasn’t thrilled. He let out a low, humourless laugh, the irony not lost on him. He’d teased Tommy yesterday for groaning about the same thing and now, here he was, joints creaking like a cartoon grandpa. He probably owed him an apology.
Stretching out his stiff muscles, Buck’s gaze landed on one of the framed photos on the bookshelf, a snapshot from a backyard BBQ at Bobby’s a few years back. They were all in it, grinning like idiots, sun-soaked and laughing. Bobby stood in the centre, the anchor he’d always been.
Buck looked away before the ache could settle in too deep.
That had been a good day. Then again, they all were, back then. It didn’t matter how many hours they spent together on shift. They never tired of one another. If Bobby was cooking, they showed up, no questions asked. But they were never going to have that again.
Were they even going to have good days again?
A part of Buck knew that you eventually come out on the other side of grief, maybe not exactly the same as before, but one day it wouldn’t be all consuming. But right now? He couldn’t see that far ahead. Couldn’t imagine joy that didn’t include Bobby.
And yet, with Tommy, it felt easier to take a step forward. To reach toward something warm and light.
Everything else, though, his place at the 118, the cracks in the team, the silence between him and Eddie, felt dark and uncertain. He’d spent years clinging to the firehouse like a lifeline. It had been his safe place. His family. And now? It felt like it was slipping through his hands.
There was a part of him that wanted to hold tighter. But another part, the quieter, more exhausted part, was wondering if it was time to let go. He wanted to respect Bobby’s wishes, and be there for everyone, but the weight of that was almost becoming unbearable for him.
Dragging himself to the kitchen, he flipped on the light, poured a glass of water, and leaned against the counter. The morning was already warming, sunlight inching its way across the floorboards.
He pulled out his phone and sent a message, unsure if Tommy was even awake yet.
Evan: Did you know that you can hear rhubarb growing?
He set the phone down and started making a quick breakfast, making a mental note to swing by the grocery store after the hike. His next shift was a 48, and he knew post-shift exhaustion would have him forgetting.
A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.
Tommy: And good morning to you! I did not know that about rhubarb.
Evan: Sorry, morning!
Evan: It does! It makes a popping sound as it grows in the spring.
Tommy: Do I want to know what caused this fascination with rhubarb?
Buck paused, wondering just how much of his post-breakup coping hobby he should admit to. Tommy knew he could cook. But he didn’t know that Buck had started baking, just to give his hands something to do instead of calling Tommy.
Evan: I was making rhubarb muffins and started thinking about growing some… and well, you know...
Tommy: LOL you went on a deep dive on all things rhubarb.
Buck: Exactly!
Tommy: Wait...since when do you bake muffins?
Buck groaned and lightly thunked his head against the cupboard.
Buck: Let’s save that story for another day.
Tommy: Don’t think I won’t bring this up again. I’m very curious about this new skill you seem to have developed.
Evan: If I bribe you with some homemade muffins, will you drop it?
Tommy: I will...for now ;)
Buck laughed, really laughed, as he imagined Tommy sprawled out in bed, grinning at his phone and already planning how to use this new information to tease him later.
It was one of the things he missed most, how easy everything felt with Tommy. They loved teasing each other, constantly pushing the line between sarcasm and affection, both finding joy in being each other’s favourite target. It was like it was a language only they spoke. It made Buck feel light. Seen. Grounded.
There was an ease between them he hadn’t found with anyone else. They were a safe space, where weird and wacky didn’t just exist, it was encouraged. Tommy never made Buck feel like he was too much. He never flinched when Buck was spiralling or rambling or going on about haunted doll auctions or how his star sign was probably cursed. He’d just raise an eyebrow and say, “This again?”, but always with a fond look on his face. He never walked away. Never shut him down.
And God, Buck had needed that.
He’d spent so much of his life shrinking himself. Smiling too wide. Bouncing too hard off the walls. Desperate to be wanted but terrified of being real. Most people liked him best when he was easy. When he was the fun one.
But Tommy never wanted him easy. He wanted him to be honest.
Buck still remembered the first time he knew, really knew , Tommy saw him. It was the day he suggested the funeral for Billy Boils. Tommy had called him absolutely ridiculous, but then showed up anyway, in a suit, and stood beside him at the grave like it was the most natural thing in the world.
None of his other relationships had ever felt like that. There had always been a quiet pressure to be less. But with Tommy, even the parts of himself Buck thought he had to hide were met with curiosity. Affection. Sometimes, when he got especially carried away with something, Tommy would just shake his head, smile, and call him adorable , and it always left Buck a little breathless. Because it didn’t sound like teasing. It sounded like love.
And maybe that was what he missed most.
Not just the comfort or their insane chemistry, but the way Tommy looked at him like every version of Buck was worth knowing. Worth staying for.
And now, sitting in this too-quiet house, with grief still pressing down around him, Buck held onto that memory like a lifeline. He didn’t know what was ahead, what was salvageable or not, but for the first time in weeks, something inside him had shifted. Just a little. Just enough.
He wasn’t alone. Not really. Tommy was still there. And maybe that was enough to start figuring out the rest.
Evan: Are we still on for today?
He started rinsing his plate, the familiar clink of dishes grounding him as he waited for Tommy’s reply.
Tommy: Yeah. Definitely. I can swing by to pick you up around 10?
Buck smiled.
Evan: See you soon.
He set the phone down and turned toward the hallway. He needed a shower. Something to shake the weight of everything pressing down on him. He couldn’t fix things with Eddie yet. Maybe not ever. But he didn’t need to carry all of it today.
Today, he had someone who saw him. And for now, that was enough.
****
Buck hadn’t hiked Sandstone Peak in a while. He forgot how steep it started out. And how annoyingly cheerful Tommy could be during a gruelling workout.
“Remind me again,” Buck said, adjusting his too-tight backpack, “why did we pick the trail that goes straight up?”
Tommy glanced over with a grin, completely unaffected by the incline. “Because you said, and I quote, ‘ Let’s do something fun and scenic, ’ which was code for ‘I need to sweat out my feelings.’”
Buck snorted. “That does sound like something I’d say.”
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, boots crunching against loose gravel, Tommy occasionally pointing out things along the trail, tiny wildflowers clinging to dry dirt, a hawk circling above. Buck had packed way too much water, which Tommy mocked immediately when he had gotten into Tommy’s truck.
“Have you even made a dent in that hydration station you’re carrying in your backpack?”
“Shut up. It’s called being prepared.”
“It’s called you have a gallon jug in here next to what I’m assuming is an entire bag of trail mix.”
“I like snacks.”
Tommy laughed. “This is brand new information for me.”
Buck feigned a wounded look. “See if I share any of my snacks with you with that attitude.”
Their banter made the incline easier somehow, the sharp burn in Buck’s legs dulled by Tommy’s teasing and that easy warmth between them. It was ridiculous, but he felt it settle inside him like something right. Familiar.
By the time they reached the ridge line, Buck’s shirt was clinging to his back and his breathing was heavier than he wanted to admit. Tommy, unfairly, looked like he’d just walked through a light breeze.
“Are you secretly training for a triathlon?” Buck panted.
Tommy offered him a smug sideways glance. “No. But I do cardio that doesn’t involve getting trapped under collapsed buildings.”
Buck wheezed out a laugh. “Okay, first of all, rude.”
“Second of all?”
“You’re definitely not getting any of my trail mix now.”
Tommy grinned. “I’m devastated.”
They pressed on, climbing the final rocky incline that led to the overlook. At the summit, the world opened up. Mountains rolled toward the horizon in soft green waves, and the Pacific glinted faintly in the far-off light. The breeze was cool at the top, sweeping sweat from Buck’s forehead as he stood there, catching his breath.
They both sat, legs stretched out toward the edge, shoulders brushing. The silence was easy between them.
Buck took a swig from his water jug and offered it to Tommy, who took it with mock reverence. “Sharing your sacred supply? I’m touched.”
Buck rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“I’m glad you came,” he said, voice low.
Buck nodded. “Me too.”
They sat in silence for a minute, just the two of them and the hum of wind in the brush around them.
Buck knew there were so many things they needed to talk about.
What had caused them to break up in the first place. The messy aftermath of that one night they couldn’t stay away from each other. The silence that stretched too long between then and now. The grief that had cracked him open since losing Bobby. And how all of it, every complicated, aching thread, had woven into this second chance they were stumbling into.
But now, sitting beside Tommy, Buck didn’t know where to start.
He picked absently at a loose thread on his gym shorts, fingers worrying at the fabric like it might anchor him. Tommy didn’t rush to break the silence. He just sat beside him, gaze fixed on the horizon, giving Buck the space to gather his thoughts without pressure. Like he always did.
Then, quietly, Tommy shifted. Just enough for their shoulders to touch, a small, grounding weight.
“I missed this,” he said softly. “Missed you. More than I ever expected to.”
Buck’s breath caught, the words hitting something tender in his chest.
“I kept thinking it would pass,” Tommy continued, voice even. “That if I stayed busy, if I kept my head down, I’d move on. But every time something happened, something weird or dumb or just…life, I wanted to tell you. You were always the first person I wanted to call.”
He turned then, meeting Buck’s eyes with an openness that made Buck’s throat tighten. “Still are.”
Buck swallowed hard. “Even after I said those awful things to you that morning?”
Tommy gave a sad laugh, “Not our finest moment,” he said with a sigh. “After everything Evan. I shouldn’t have said what I did about Eddie...I don’t even know why I did. I was just...so excited at the thought of maybe getting back together, that my mouth and my brain didn’t sync up.”
Buck smiled sadly, “I can’t tell you how amazing it felt when you said you wanted to try again. It was everything I’d been hoping to hear for months.”
“And then I opened my mouth,” Tommy added wryly.
“And then you opened your mouth,” Buck echoed, huffing a small laugh “And I lashed out. You didn’t deserve what I said to you. There were a hundred better ways I could’ve responded without being a complete jackass.”
Tommy snorted. “Yeah, well. We both blew it.”
“But I need you to know something,” Buck said, voice quieter now, more serious. “I’m not in love with Eddie. I never have been. He is, was, my best friend. Even after everything, even after you flipped my whole world upside down with that first kiss and I realized I was into men too…nothing changed in how I felt about him.”
Tommy was silent for a beat, and then nodded. “I believe you.”
Buck let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy added. “You just…you terrify me, Evan. What I feel for you… I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. And it scared me. Made me insecure, made me second-guess myself. Like one day you were going to wake up and realize you’d wasted all this time on me.”
Buck turned to him fully, eyes wide with something fierce and fragile. “Tommy,” he said, voice thick. “Never. Even if we never get back together I cherish every moment we had together. You were never a waste of time. Not one second.”
Tommy looked away, blinking fast. “Yeah, well. Tell that to the voice in my head that’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I know that voice,” Buck said, softer now. “Mine’s been loud lately, too.”
“We should really stop listening to them,” Tommy muttered, a dry smile tugging at his lips. “They’re a real pain in the ass.”
Buck huffed a laugh. “Total assholes.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Tommy reached over, threading his fingers through Buck’s and giving a gentle tug, just enough to pull him closer. Buck let himself lean in, fitting against Tommy’s side like he’d never left it. He pressed a kiss to the side of Buck’s head, lips brushing his temple before resting his cheek against Buck’s hair.
“How are you today?” Tommy asked, voice barely above a whisper.
It was such a small question. How was he?
He could’ve lied or made a joke, but here with Tommy, with the sun warm on their backs and the scent of pine and dirt grounding him in the moment, Buck didn’t want to lie. Not to him.
“I don’t know,” he said after a pause. “I don’t know how to do this. Grieve. Move on.”
Tommy squeezed his hand. “None of us do, Evan. And it’s different for everyone. There’s no right or wrong way, and it’ll take the time it takes,” he said gently. “The important thing is to let yourself grieve. Don’t push it aside.”
Buck nodded, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m scared to let it go. I’m terrified I’ll drown under the weight of it.”
“Oh, Evan.” Tommy shifted, letting go of his hand only to wrap his arm around him and pull him in closer. “You’ve got to let it out, baby, or it’ll consume you. I know it’s scary, and it feels like too much sometimes, but I promise, it does get better.”
“Grief will never fully go away,” he continued. “But day by day, little by little, it gets easier to carry. Until one day, it’s not this giant boulder crushing you, it’s just a small rock in your pocket. Still there, still with weight, but manageable.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. A few quiet tears slid down his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“I don't want to forget him,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.
Tommy gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Impossible,” he said. “Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. You loved Bobby. He’ll always have a place in your heart. And you’ll find ways to carry him with you, always. In stories. In traditions. In who you are.”
Buck just let the words wash over him. It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t a cure. But it was something. A hand to hold in the dark.
“When we grieve hard, it’s just a reflection of how deeply we loved,” Tommy added softly. “And Bobby loved you just as much. So yeah, it’s a lot. You’re in the thick of it. But I’m here. For whatever you need, Evan. Lean on me.”
Buck pulled back slightly to look at Tommy, really look at him. The light filtered through the trees behind them, catching in Tommy’s lashes, casting warm shadows over his face. There was no judgement in his eyes, no expectation. Just that steady, patient way he had of holding space without ever needing to fill it.
If Buck had held even the smallest hesitation about giving this, them , a second chance, it dissolved right then. Because in Tommy’s presence, for the first time in weeks, Buck felt seen. Truly seen. Like his grief wasn’t something to be fixed or hidden. Like his confusion, his uncertainty, his not-knowing-how-to-move- forward was okay.
He didn’t have to pretend with Tommy. Didn’t have to be the version of himself who always had a smile ready or a joke at the surface. He could be quiet. Lost. Messy.
A rush of emotion welled in his chest, too much and not enough, and before he could talk himself out of it, Buck leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Tommy’s lips. It wasn’t heated or desperate, just soft. Intentional. A kiss full of promises and quiet hope. A kiss that said we’ll figure this out . Together.
He didn’t pull back far, just enough to rest his forehead against Tommy’s, their breath mingling in the stillness between them. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let himself just be for a moment, safe, grounded, wrapped in something that felt like the first real piece of peace he’d touched in months.
When he finally drew back, Buck wiped at his damp cheeks with the back of his hand, a huff of a laugh escaping him on a shaky exhale.
“I didn’t mean to turn our hike into a therapy session,” he said, voice rough with emotion but laced with a small smile.
Tommy bumped his shoulder gently. “You know my fees are competitive,” he joked, voice warm with memory.
Buck’s smile widened, the corner of his mouth twitching up in something real. That day at the 217 felt like a lifetime ago now, sunlight on pavement, the sharp smell of jet fuel and possibility, Tommy’s crooked grin as he showed him around like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it didn’t matter that Buck had been spiralling for reasons he didn’t fully understand that day, barely keeping it together.
Eventually, Tommy gave a gentle sigh and stood, stretching his arms overhead with a theatrical groan. “Alright, Romeo. You ready to head back down before my legs seize up and we both have to be airlifted out?”
Buck snorted as he got to his feet. “You say that like I wouldn’t love a dramatic helicopter rescue.”
Tommy gave him a look. “Of course you would, but it wouldn’t be me doing the rescue,” he said knowingly.
Buck gave him a dramatic sigh, “If we must.”
Tommy rolled his eyes fondly. “Don’t act so put out, you got your emotional catharsis and a killer view. That’s basically a two-for-one deal.”
Buck grinned, brushing the dirt off his hands as they started their descent. “You know, not all of my emotional breakthroughs need to involve steep inclines and sore quads.”
“Sure,” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow, “but would they really be as satisfying without the threat of shin splints?”
Buck let out a huff of a laugh as they stepped carefully down a narrow switchback, the wind tugging gently at his shirt. For a while, they walked in companionable silence, the kind that didn’t demand anything more than shared steps and steady breathing.
He wasn’t ready for their time together to be over. Not yet. They hadn’t really addressed the elephant in the room, where they were heading, what this meant, but right now, Buck was content just being here. With Tommy. It felt a bit like starting over, but in the best possible way. Like they were getting to rediscover each other, without the pressure or the weight of everything.
“Did you want to grab a late lunch after this?” Buck asked, casual but hopeful.
Tommy glanced at him, a slow smile forming. “Are we avoiding going home again?” he teased.
Buck laughed. “No. Eddie and Chris flew out this morning.”
“Oh,” Tommy said, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Maybe surprise. Like he hadn’t expected Buck to want to extend their time together.
“Maybe I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet,” Buck said, nudging him gently before reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together.
Tommy’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Lunch would be good,” he said, giving Buck’s hand a squeeze as they continued down the trail, side by side.
****
They ended up at a tucked-away café not far from the trail, the kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it. The patio was shaded by twisting oak trees, their branches strung with mismatched paper lanterns that swayed lazily in the breeze.
It wasn’t fancy, just a scattering of weathered wooden tables and ceramic pitchers of lemon water, but it felt like a place that invited people to stay awhile. They chose a quiet corner beneath a broad umbrella, overlooking a narrow dirt path that led toward a creek. Buck had taken one look around and visibly exhaled, as if his body finally remembered how to relax. Tommy liked that. Liked watching Buck lean back in his chair, sunlight catching in the strands of hair still damp from the hike, something open and unguarded in his face.
A server dropped off two local craft beers, amber, slightly hazy, beads of condensation already sliding down the glasses, and the spread they’d impulsively decided to share. There was roasted fig and prosciutto laid over a crisp rosemary flatbread, the edges charred just right, drizzled with honey and finished with a generous smear of whipped goat cheese that added the perfect tang.
Beside it, a farro salad shimmered in the sunlight, tossed with charred corn, bright heirloom cherry tomatoes that burst with sweetness, and crumbles of crispy pancetta, all dressed in a light lemon basil vinaigrette. And then there were the garlic rosemary potatoes, golden and glistening, nestled in a rustic ceramic bowl. Buck had added them at the last minute, “for balance,” he’d said with a grin that made Tommy shake his head and order them anyway.
“You know," he said, casually kicking Buck’s shin under the table, "If I knew hiking worked up this kind of appetite, I would’ve dragged you out on a trail months ago."
Buck grinned around a mouthful of fries. “I earned this,” he said with mock indignation. “That incline was criminal.”
Tommy hummed, pleased at the ease between them, the way the tension from earlier had shifted into something warmer. Softer.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the clatter of silverware and distant hum of traffic filling the gaps. Tommy leaned back in his chair, letting the sun spill across his legs. Eventually, Buck glanced at him.
“So,” Buck said, tone casual but careful, the way he always got when he was feeling something bigger under the surface. “How’s work been lately? At the 217?”
Tommy leaned back in his chair slightly, the cold press of the glass against his fingertips grounding him. Condensation slid down toward the base as he turned it absently in his hands. “Busy,” he said. “A lot of sea-side incidents lately, weirdly enough. I’m clocking more flight hours than I expected.”
He hesitated, then added, “Did I tell you about our new Captain?”
Buck shook his head, swallowing a bite of farro salad. “No, when did that happen?”
“Officially about four weeks ago. But we’ve known she was coming for about six.”
“She?” Buck’s brows rose with interest.
“Captain Mackenzie Ryan,” Tommy said, glancing across the table at Buck, who nodded as he chewed. “Former SAR with the Coast Guard, then transferred to LAFD a few years back. She was off on leave for about a year, but Chief Simpson seemed really happy to finally have her back.”
“Wow,” Buck said, genuinely intrigued. “That’s an interesting background. How’s it been working out so far?”
Tommy gave a small smile, a little sheepish. “Good. They’ve made some big changes.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He fiddled with the edge of the flatbread. “They split the 217 into two divisions, rescue operations and air operations. I still report under Captain Mitchel. They… promoted me to lieutenant.”
Buck’s eyes lit up immediately. “Tommy, that’s amazing!” he said, setting his beer down with more force than intended. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
Tommy shrugged, feeling that familiar pinch of guilt. “I dunno. It felt silly, given everything else going on.”
“No it’s not,” Buck said firmly. “You deserve this. I’m proud of you.”
The words hit harder than Tommy expected. He looked down, smiling quietly at his plate. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low but sincere.
Truth was, he hadn’t told anyone outside the station. Not because he wasn’t proud, but because so much in Buck’s world had been heavy lately. Tommy hadn’t wanted to make his good news feel like it didn’t belong. But Buck was looking at him like it mattered. Like he mattered. And that eased something inside him.
“So yeah,” Tommy continued, clearing his throat, “on the air side we focus on flight ops and aerial rescue. I’ve got a team of pilots and rescue firefighters now, and we’re partnered with the new lieutenant for aeromedics. We handle all air-based transport and emergency calls.”
Buck nodded, clearly interested. “What about the other team?”
“That’s where the big changes came in,” Tommy said. “They’re now handling both land and sea rescues. We’ve started partnering more with the Coast Guard and Harbor Patrol for water-based stuff, and for land, it’s more mountain rescue, canyon ops, anywhere traditional engine crews can’t get easily or require specialized skills.”
Buck’s brows rose again, clearly impressed. “That’s kind of amazing.”
“It is,” Tommy admitted. “It’s intense, but it’s good. It feels like we’re finally being used for what we were trained for. Not just the odd helicopter call, but actual integrated rescue work.”
He saw the flicker in Buck’s eyes, that momentary shadow when anything about work came up lately. Tommy didn’t press it.
“Mac’s also pushing hard for tighter team training, more crossover between land and air teams.”
Buck raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”
“Good,” Tommy said honestly. “It’s… different, could mean we get pulled into some land and sea rescues, and vice versa, which could be interesting. There’s still stuff to figure out. Some of the newer guys aren’t used to my style yet.” He grinned. “Apparently sarcasm isn’t a leadership quality.”
Buck let out a quiet laugh but didn’t answer right away. His gaze had drifted, thoughtful.
“You thinking about next steps?” Tommy asked gently.
Buck looked up at him then, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know where I fit anymore at the 118. But I’m not sure I’m ready to leave either. Everything feels a little up in the air.” He paused, then cracked a faint smile. “No pun intended.”
Tommy huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head, letting that sit a beat before saying softly, “Whatever you decide, you don’t have to rush it.”
Buck gave him a small smile, then glanced around the café patio, the shade of olive trees dancing gently across the table. His fingers brushed Tommy’s briefly, he hesitated for a moment before speaking again, voice low. “This?” he said. “Us? I want to keep seeing you. Getting to know each other again. But…can it just be between us, for now?”
Tommy didn’t have to ask why. He saw it all over Buck’s face, the weight of expectation, of people in his ear, of old wounds that hadn’t quite closed.
“Of course,” he said simply. “I kind of like that... Just us.”
Buck’s smile deepened, more real this time. He clinked his glass gently against Tommy’s. “Just us.”
****
They lingered over the last of their beer, the late afternoon sun slanting through the trees, casting shifting patterns across the table. The patio had emptied out a bit, the lunch rush long gone, leaving only the low hum of conversation and the occasional clatter of silverware from inside.
Buck didn’t want to move. Not yet. He felt strangely full, not just from the food, but from everything Tommy had given him that day without asking for anything in return. Space. Reassurance. A soft place to land.
When they finally stood, Tommy reached for his hand without thinking, fingers sliding easily between Buck’s. They walked back to the truck like that. No rush. No words.
When Tommy pulled onto the curb outside Eddie’s place, he didn’t shut off the engine. Buck hesitated, his hand on the door.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked, only half-joking.
Tommy’s smile was gentle. “You’ve got a 48 starting tomorrow. Go stretch. Sleep. Text me later?”
Buck nodded. “I will.”
But he didn’t move to get out right away. Just sat there, watching the way sunlight caught in Tommy’s hair, wondering how the hell he’d gone so long without this.
Tommy reached across the console, hand resting lightly on Buck’s thigh. “We’ve got time, Evan.”
Buck smiled as he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Tommy’s lips, then stepped out. He watched as the truck pulled away, the engine a low hum fading down the street, before turning toward the door.
He set his keys on the counter, toed off his shoes, and stared at the couch.
Then, instead of sitting down, he walked into his bedroom and lay down on the bed, not bothering to change or even pull the comforter back. The air smelled faintly of cedar and laundry detergent.
His body ached from the hike. His heart ached more. But for the first time in weeks, something in him had settled, just a little.
He didn’t know what was waiting for him at the 118. Or with Eddie. Or with any of it, really. But for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was walking toward it alone.
Notes:
Your love and comments for this one just make me so happy! Hope you enjoyed this one! As always, love to hear from you 💙
Chapter 4: Smoke & Mirrors
Summary:
Back at the 118, Buck finds himself flinching at ghosts. A fire in a mirrored museum becomes a maze of triggers, reflections, and raw memory.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand, staring at his own reflection like it might give him answers. His hair was still damp from the shower, curling slightly at the ends, and there was a tension in his jaw he hadn’t managed to shake since waking up. He rinsed and spat, then leaned forward, bracing his palms against the sink.
He didn’t want to go in today.
He hadn’t said that out loud, not even to Tommy last night when they’d texted about some baking show Buck had become obsessed with and whether rosemary belonged in desserts (it did, Buck wouldn’t be convinced otherwise), but the feeling had been simmering under his skin all morning.
Nervous energy buzzed just beneath his skin like his body knew something his brain hadn’t caught up to yet. It wasn’t the job. He still loved the work. Still felt that familiar pull when the sirens wailed and the adrenaline kicked in.
The station didn’t feel the same anymore. Not without Bobby. And not with the quiet fractures between the people who were supposed to be his family, fractures that felt a little wider every time he walked through the door.
He walked into the bedroom, but stopped short, overcome for a moment by the weight of not knowing.
Not knowing what he was walking into. Not knowing what he wanted.
The idea of transferring had started as a quiet whisper, a “what if” tucked between exhaustion and grief. But now it was louder, harder to ignore. The 118 was all he’d ever known, all he’d fought to be part of. Walking away felt unthinkable.
And yet… staying felt impossible.
He sat on the edge of the bed, lacing up his shoes, each movement slow and mechanical.
His phone buzzed beside him, Tommy, sending a GIF of a very tired duck clutching an extra large coffee cup under the caption “Monday mood.”
Buck smiled, couldn’t help it.
He tapped back a thumbs-up emoji, then added: “Understatement.”
His thumb hovered over the keyboard a moment longer, like maybe he wanted to say more. But the words never came.
He set the phone down again, the screen dimming as silence settled around him.
He didn’t know how to walk into the firehouse today without everyone looking at him like he was broken. Or worse, like they expected everything to just go back to normal.
He wasn’t ready to talk about whether he was staying or going.
But his shift started in less than an hour, and he’d never been the kind of guy to bail. Not when it mattered.
So he stood up, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door.
He just had to get through this shift and then he could spend the next few days thinking about what he was going to do next.
****
The engine bay smelled like oil and rubber and something faintly burned, a familiar mix that clung to the concrete and the walls like muscle memory. Buck stepped inside, his footsteps echoing faintly in the mostly quiet space. The lights overhead buzzed gently, but the morning shift hadn’t fully clicked into gear yet.
He didn’t linger in the open. Instead, he slipped past the rigs and made his way toward the locker room, head down, shoulders a little too stiff, like maybe if he moved quickly enough, he could outrun the weight that seemed to settle just behind his sternum every time he walked into this building now.
He pulled open his locker and started the mindless routine of pulling on his uniform. The motions came easily, shirt, pants, boots, but his mind was anything but calm. He was grateful to have a few moments alone to gather his thoughts, to try and mentally brace himself for the day ahead, when he heard footsteps behind him.
Ravi’s voice broke the quiet. “Hey.”
Buck glanced over his shoulder. Ravi offered a small, easy smile as he walked in, duffle slung over one shoulder.
“Morning,” Buck said, returning the smile automatically.
Ravi tossed his bag onto the bench and started unzipping his jacket. “How are you? After the end of the last shift, I mean. Not too sore?”
Buck smiled, shaking his head. “No, not too sore. Either my body’s just permanently used to being bruised, or the call wasn’t as rough as I thought.” He hesitated for a beat, then added, “Actually got out for a hike yesterday.”
He didn’t offer more than that. He wasn’t ready to share who he’d gone with. But with Ravi, he didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with explanations. Ravi wouldn’t push.
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing,” Ravi joked. “But I’m glad you had a good day off.”
“How about you?” Buck asked, tugging on his shirt. “You doing okay after last shift?”
Ravi nodded, pulling his uniform from his locker. “Not gonna lie, I had some decent bruises and the morning after wasn’t fun, but I’m feeling good today.”
“Glad to hear it.”
There was a flicker in Ravi’s expression then, something just beneath the surface, quiet and uncertain. Like he wanted to say more but wasn’t sure how. He didn’t push, though. Didn’t fill the space with questions Buck wasn’t ready to answer, and Buck appreciated that more than he could say.
They talked for a few more minutes, trading updates about their time off, Ravi mentioning a new documentary he’d watched, Buck vaguely referencing errands and his hike. It was easy. No pressure, no expectations. Just the rhythm of routine and partnership.
He knew he and Ravi weren’t the closest, not like he’d been with Eddie or Chim, but they’d come a long way. And after everything else that had shifted around him, Buck had come to value this partnership more than he expected.
The morning passed in a blur of motion, restocking gear, cleaning out the rig, and some of the equipment out in the back lot. Buck kept himself busy, purposefully so. There was comfort in the rhythm of routine, in the muscle memory of work that didn’t require emotional energy. Every time he felt his thoughts creeping toward heavier places, he redirected himself into a task. Sweep the floors. Check the med kits. Clean the compartments on the ladder truck, even if they didn’t really need it.
He managed to avoid anything deeper by simply not slowing down. He skipped the usual banter in the kitchen, made himself scarce when Hen and Chimney made their way onto the floor, ducking into the engine bay under the guise of re-stocking supplies. If they noticed he was keeping his distance, they didn’t say anything.
He knew he was being a little immature, but he just didn’t have it in him today to deal with the awkwardness. Chimney would push, and Buck didn’t have the answers he knew were expected. Not yet. He didn’t want to be pressured into a decision. If he was going to stay, he needed it to be because it felt right. Not because it would cause the fewest ripples at the 118.
By the time afternoon rolled around, the station had settled into its usual post-lunch lull. Buck wandered into the kitchen, stomach rumbling, and threw together something halfway resembling a sandwich, sliced turkey, some wilted arugula, and mustard that was maybe one squeeze away from empty. He leaned against the counter while he ate, letting the quiet of the room settle around him.
Meal times had quickly become his least favourite part of the shift. It used to be his favourite. Cooking shoulder to shoulder with Bobby, everyone gathered around the table, sharing food and stories and dumb jokes. Now? It was every person for themselves.
Buck had tried to keep the tradition alive at first, suggesting meals, offering to cook, trying to draw the team together, but everyone brushed him off. Or made other plans without him.
Once bitten, twice shy, right?
So now, he just made do. He brought leftovers or scraped together whatever was in the fridge. He tried to time his meals for when the loft was mostly empty, so he wouldn’t have to pretend like everything was fine. Because it wasn’t. Not really.
He pulled out his phone almost without thinking, thumbs already moving as he tapped out a message.
Evan: Did you know that wombat poop is cube-shaped?
Tommy replied a few seconds later.
Tommy: I don’t know what to do with that information, Evan.
Tommy: Why do you know this?
Buck laughed at the mental image of Tommy squinting at his phone, probably elbow-deep in helicopter maintenance.
Evan: Nature documentary.
Evan: It helps keep the poop from rolling away, they use it to mark their territory.Tommy : …
Tommy : To be inside your brain.
Buck snorted.
Evan: It’s an interesting place.
Evan: I told you about that dream I had while I was in a coma after getting struck by lightning!Tommy: That sounded more like an acid trip than a dream.
Tommy wasn’t wrong. It had definitely been one of the weirder things Buck had experienced, and he had absolutely no interest in repeating it.
Evan: Truth.
Evan: How’s your shift?Tommy: Good. Only one call so far, just an airlift from a car crash.
Tommy: How’s yours? Everything okay?
Buck stared at the screen for a second before replying, more honest than he expected to be.
Evan: It’s been fine. Everyone’s pretty much keeping to themselves.
Evan: Thought Hen and Chim would be falling over themselves to kumbaya the team back together given it’s the first shift under Interim Captain Han.Tommy: So Chim took the plunge?
Evan: Looks like it.
Tommy: I’m glad it’s been okay so far.
Tommy: Feel free to flood my messages with all the random facts you’ve got if you need a distraction.
Buck let out a full laugh at that.
Evan: Famous last words.
He paused for a beat, watching the dots of the typing bubble appear and disappear. Then he typed slowly.
Evan: And just… thanks. I don’t know what I expected when we started talking again, but you’ve been my lifeline these past few days.
Evan: I can’t tell you how much that means.
There was a longer pause before Tommy replied. When he did, the message hit Buck straight in the chest.
Tommy: Breaking up with you is the biggest regret of my life.
Tommy: I’m all in, Evan. For the good, the bad…all of it. I’m here.
Buck stared at the words for a long time, emotion rising sharp and fast in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. Well, he did know, but it felt way too soon to say it. To admit just how deep his feelings already ran. So instead, he tapped out a reply, simple but honest.
Evan: 🫂
****
Chimney caught him in the kitchen just as Buck was rinsing out his dishes, cornering him with that look that said we need to talk.
“Buck—”
“Hey, Chim,” Buck said quickly, trying for breezy as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. “You need something?”
Chimney leaned against the counter, arms crossed, clearly not buying the casual act. “Yeah. You. For about five minutes. We haven’t really—”
The station alarm cut through the air, sharp and jarring.
“Structure fire. Immersive museum exhibit, Hollywood. Multiple people reported being trapped.”
Buck was already moving, heart rate kicking up as adrenaline surged through his veins.
Chimney sighed, pushing off the counter. “To be continued.”
They scrambled into their gear and climbed aboard the truck, sirens screaming as they tore down the street. By the time they pulled up, flames were already coming through the shattered windows of the garishly lit building with a massive sign out front flashing: VANISH: A MIND-BENDING ILLUSION EXPERIENCE .
As they exited the truck to assess the situation, a woman stumbled toward them, coughing, face streaked with soot and glitter. “It’s a maze,” she gasped. “Mirrors everywhere. There’s people still inside. I think one of the walls collapsed…I couldn’t see anything—”
“Great,” Buck muttered under his breath. “A funhouse fire. What could possibly go wrong.”
Chimney handed out assignments fast, voice clear but tense. “Hen, you stay out here and triage the injuries. Ravi, you're with me. East entrance. Buck, you got the west side. Keep comms open. Call out if you get a count on how many people are still inside.”
Hen added, “And don’t forget to watch your angles. Mirrors are going to screw with your depth perception.”
Buck gave a quick nod, already jogging toward the side door. He pulled his mask down, tapped his radio. “Copy. Going in.”
The first few feet weren’t so bad, low light, some minor smoke, but then he hit the maze.
Instantly, the disorientation hit him like a punch to the head. Every direction was a reflection of another, lights bouncing, smoke slithering through each space like a ghost. The walls seemed to stretch and bend. Flashing reds and whites pulsed, making the world tilt under his boots.
Focus. Buck dropped low, flashlight angled toward the floor. He moved slowly, hand brushing the wall to keep his bearings.
“Call out if you can hear me!” he shouted. “LAFD! We’re here to help!”
A soft sob echoed to his left, or maybe behind him? He turned, flashlight slicing through haze, hitting nothing but his own reflection again and again.
Then, movement. Just ahead. A shape huddled near a twisted column of shattered glass and warped panels.
He moved forward slowly, boots crunching on broken glass. Something snapped behind him, but he didn’t stop.
As he moved closer, the air shifted. His vision blurred, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the maze anymore.
He was in the lab.
No, no, not here , he thought.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to plant himself in the now. Get a grip, Buck, he told himself. But the strobe lights hit again, white, then blue, then red, and the flash pulled him under.
This time, there was a body. Slumped across a metal table, still.
His breath caught painfully in his throat. The figure stirred.
Then slowly, horribly, rose.
Bobby.
Deathly pale. Eyes glassy, blood leaking from his nose. From his eyes.
Buck’s feet wouldn’t move. Couldn’t.
“Buck,” Bobby whispered, voice gurgling and wet. “Help me…”
Buck dropped to a knee. Air wouldn’t come. The walls spun.
“No,” he gasped. “No, Bobby—”
“I love you, kid,” he said, reaching out.
Buck flinched as Bobby stumbled forward, coughing up blood, face twisted in pain.
It was all wrong.
He was kneeling in glass, shaking, crying now without realizing it, trying to force air into his lungs, trying to blink the image away. But it was burned behind his eyelids. Bobby’s hand. Bobby dying. Bobby looking right at him .
“Buck, status?”
The voice in his comms was faint at first, but growing louder.
“Buck, respond.”
It was Chimney
He tore his gaze away, the vision crumbling into smoke and shadow. Buck stayed crouched for a few long seconds, chest heaving, sweat and tears mixing beneath his mask. His hands trembled. His legs felt boneless. But slowly he pushed himself upright. Every movement was stiff, like his body had forgotten how to function.
“Buck, come in,” Chimney’s voice crackled again in his ear.
He swallowed hard, tried to steady his voice as he keyed his radio. “Buck here. Located one victim. She’s conscious but looks like she’s got a leg injury. Still working to get to her. The mirrors have me turned around.”
He forced himself forward. One boot in front of the other.
A few more wrong turns. A dead end. Then finally, Buck reached her. She was young, maybe early twenties, crumpled at the base of a fractured mirror panel. Her left leg was pinned under a twisted segment of frame, bent at an unnatural angle. Her mascara was streaked halfway down her cheeks, but her eyes locked onto him the moment he appeared.
“Hey,” Buck said, soft and steady, dropping to one knee. “I’m Buck. I’m with LAFD. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“My leg…I can’t…I can’t move—” she sobbed, voice ragged.
“You don’t have to. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
He scanned her injuries quickly, already pulling tools from his gear. He braced the collapsed panel with a halligan to stabilize it, then wedged a pry bar under the twisted segment.
“What’s your name?” he asked gently, keeping her eyes on him.
“Beth,” she whimpered.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Beth,” he said, flashing a faint smile. “Okay, I need you to stay really still. But you tell me right away if anything starts to hurt worse, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Just as he started to lift, a loud crack echoed behind him, deep, splintering. One of the mirrored walls was starting to shift.
“Buck, you need to get out of there now. That sector’s becoming unstable,” Chim ordered, sharper this time.
Buck didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not yet.
Another mirror popped, the sound like a gunshot. Shards sprayed against his turnout and helmet. Still, he didn’t flinch, just focused on his hands, on Beth, on keeping his voice even as he said, “Almost there, Beth. You’re doing great.”
With one last push, the beam groaned, gave way. He tossed it aside, quickly assessed her to make sure she was ok to move. No obvious trauma other than her leg and a few scraps and bruises. She cried out as he lifted her, but clung to him immediately.
“Got you,” he murmured again.
The way out came quicker this time, his adrenaline doing the mapping for him, ignoring the fake paths, the illusions.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look back.
He just kept walking, his boots crunching across pavement until they hit triage. EMTs rushed over to take Beth, guiding her gently onto a stretcher. Buck watched her go, hands still trembling, lungs fighting for rhythm. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck beneath his gear, his heart still hammering against his ribs.
Then Hen rounded on him.
“What the hell, Buck? Chim gave an order—”
“I had her,” Buck said, voice low, edged with exhaustion. “I wasn’t going to leave her.”
Chimney appeared a second later, jaw tight, frustration just barely held in check. “You know better than to play heroics. That was a direct evac order. How many times has Bobby—”
“Don’t.” Buck’s voice snapped sharper than he meant.
Hen’s arms folded tight across her chest, but her voice cracked just slightly. “I thought you were past pulling these stunts, Buck.”
The words hit harder than he expected. Buck tried not to flinch, but the sting was real. Were they ever going to stop seeing him as that reckless, hot-headed probie? No matter how much he’s changed, grown, they were always waiting for him to fall back into old habbits.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” His voice was low, but steady now. “My hands weren’t free to radio in. What did you expect me to do, drop a beam on her just to check in?”
He shook his head, still trying to slow his breathing. “I made a call. I got her out. We both got out.”
Chimney stepped forward, voice quieter but still firm. “Look, Buck… I know we’re all still figuring things out. I’m still figuring this out. But when I call for an evacuation, you evacuate . When I ask for a report, you respond .”
Buck gave a hollow laugh. “Noted, Captain Han.” His mouth twisted. “Next time, I’ll let the debris crush them.”
He didn’t wait for their responses, just turned on his heel and climbed into the truck.
The ride back to the station was silent. No friendly chatter, no post-call banter. Just the low hum of the engine.
Buck was the first out the moment they rolled into the bay. He stripped out of his turnouts without a word and headed straight for the locker room, moving on instinct more than anything else. He half-expected Chimney to follow him, corner him in the showers with some speech about responsibility, but no one came. They all gave him a wide berth. Again.
The isolation felt familiar. And still, somehow, worse this time.
He knew he should fix himself something to eat, but the thought turned his stomach. The adrenaline hadn’t fully drained from his system yet, and the chill that had started in that burning labyrinth hadn’t left him either. The images flickered behind his eyes every time he blinked, Bobby’s bleeding face, the phantom voice in the smoke, the broken mirrors. All of it still too close, too sharp.
Shaking it off, Buck grabbed his phone from his locker and made his way up to the roof.
If nowhere else, maybe he could breathe up there. Maybe, just for a minute, he could find a little peace.
When he reached the rooftop, he was grateful no one else was up there. He dragged one of the lawn chairs closer to the edge and dropped into it, legs stretched out, arms draped loosely at his sides. The city below buzzed softly in the distance, blurred by the fading light. Somewhere behind the skyline, the sun was starting to sink, casting long shadows across the rooftop and turning the sky a hazy orange.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before his thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Bobby.
What would Bobby say if he knew Buck was thinking about leaving? Would Bobby have told him to follow his gut? To trust himself, like he always encouraged Buck to do? Or would he have told him to fight, to stay, to keep the family together no matter how broken it felt right now?
Buck didn’t know, and the not knowing made everything worse, as the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Bobby.
Bobby had known Buck better than anyone. Understood the way he thought, the way he carried things too close to his chest, the way he always tried to fix what he couldn’t carry.
Their relationship hadn’t always been close, they had their ups and downs over the years. It wasn’t long after Buck started that he started jokingly calling him Pops, but somewhere along the way, it stopped being a joke. Bobby had become the father Buck never had. The father he needed. And maybe they never said it outright, never named it out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true.
Buck pulled out his phone and opened the last message he had from Bobby.
Pops: May is asking for a home cooked family dinner this weekend. Attendance is mandatory, kid.
Kid: What can I bring?
Pops: Desert. Obviously.
Bucks eyes welled as he took in the message. They never got to have the family dinner.
His phone buzzed again, snapping him back.
Maddie: Hey. Haven’t heard from you. Getting worried. Can we talk?
He stared at the message for a long beat before typing out a reply.
Buck: Sorry. Still on shift. I’ll call you later.
It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t exactly the truth either.
He wasn’t ready for the conversation Maddie wanted to have. Not yet.
She meant well, she always did, but Maddie had a habit of thinking she knew what was best for him. And maybe sometimes, she was right. But she could push when she wanted to, and Buck didn’t have it in him tonight to be pushed. This decision, whatever it was going to be, needed to come from him.
Not from Chimney. Not from Hen. Not even from Maddie. Just…him.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and let his head tip back, eyes closing against the sting of exhaustion, and everything else that had piled on top of it. The air up here was clearer. For the first time in hours, he felt like he could actually breathe.
The rooftop door creaked open behind him. Buck stiffened instinctively, not sure who to expect. The footsteps were slow, tentative.
“Hey,” came Ravi’s voice, soft, like he wasn’t sure if he was interrupting something.
Buck opened his eyes and turned, offering a small smile. “Hey.”
Ravi stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “Didn’t see you downstairs. Figured you might be up here.”
Buck gave a faint shrug. “Needed some air.”
Ravi nodded. “Yeah. That call was…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Brutal.”
Buck didn’t correct him. Didn’t tell him just how much worse it had been.
They let the silence hang for a moment, when Ravi finally asked, “How are you doing?”
Buck glanced over, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. The first person besides Tommy to actually ask.
“I’m okay,” Buck said. Then, after a pause, “Ish.”
Ravi huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“I’m still taking it day by day,” Buck added, voice low. “Some days, I catch myself thinking Bobby’s just off on vacation with Athena. And then other days… it just hits me like a truck out of nowhere.”
Ravi didn’t speak for a few seconds. Then, gently, “I know I wasn’t as close to Bobby as you were. As the rest of the team was. But I know he was something special, and I can only imagine how hard this is for you. So, if you ever need anything, Buck… I’m here.”
Buck looked over, something in him softening. “Thanks Ravi. That means a lot.”
There was something in Ravi’s posture, something slightly tight about his shoulders, the way he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot. Buck noticed it. And he didn’t brush it off this time.
“You wanna say something,” Buck said gently. “So say it.”
Ravi blinked, caught. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only a little.”
Ravi hesitated, shoulders rising slightly as if bracing for impact. “I don’t want you to go.”
The words hit Buck harder than he expected.
“I know it’s not my place,” Ravi added quickly. “I know everything’s messy right now, and I’m not trying to guilt you. I just… I’ve learned a lot working with you. And I know I’m still figuring things out, still kind of the new guy even after all this time. But being your partner has meant something to me.”
Buck stayed quiet, listening. He didn’t know what to say to that. It warmed something in him to hear Ravi say it, but it didn’t make the decision any easier.
“I don’t...” he started. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. Part of me wants to stay, to be here with the team while we figure out how to heal. But another part of me—” he paused, eyes flicking to the skyline, “—another part hates walking through those doors every shift knowing Bobby’s not here. And I don’t know how to stop feeling like that.”
He thought about stopping there. About sparing Ravi all the other stuff he hadn’t said out loud yet. But it was bubbling close to the surface.
Hen and Chimney still treated him like the kid brother they couldn’t trust with the grown-up jobs. No matter how much he’d changed, grown, proved himself, he never quite got out from under their old view of him. And Eddie… Buck didn’t even know where to start with Eddie. Lately, thinking about his return tied Buck’s stomach in knots. They hadn’t spoken in any real way in weeks, and there was too much left unsaid between them.
Ravi didn’t answer right away, just sat with the weight of Buck’s words. The sky had faded into dusk, soft blues and purples bleeding together, the city glittering quietly beneath them.
“You don’t have to have the answer right now,” Ravi said finally, voice low. “Even Bobby wouldn’t expect you to.”
Buck gave a small nod, his jaw tight.
“And it’s okay to feel both things,” Ravi continued. “To want to stay and to hate being here. Grief doesn’t really play fair with logic.”
Buck let out a tired huff that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “No, it really doesn’t.”
“I think… whatever you decide, the people who care about you? They’ll get it. And if they don’t—” Ravi hesitated. “Then that’s on them.”
Buck stared down at his hands. “Hen and Chim… they still see me as the screw-up. The impulsive one who doesn’t think things through. I don’t know what else I have to do to prove I’m not that guy anymore.”
“You don’t have to prove anything, Buck. Not to them. Not if they’re not willing to see who you are now.” Ravi’s voice was steady, sincere. “I see it. Every shift, every call. You’ve changed. Grown. And yeah, you still do things your own way sometimes, but you’re not reckless..”
Buck blinked fast, throat tight. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear that until someone finally did. And yet, the thought that followed hit almost harder than the words themselves.
It wasn’t Chimney.
It wasn’t Hen.
It wasn’t Eddie.
It was Ravi.
Ravi, who hadn’t been there at the start. Who hadn’t seen the disaster that was Buck 1.0, who somehow saw him more clearly now than the people who had been by his side for years. That thought sat heavy in his chest.
“And Eddie?” Ravi added gently. “Things seemed to be tense between you?”
Buck shook his head. “It’s… complicated.”
Ravi didn’t push, just nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, when I joined this house, I used to wonder if I’d ever really belong here. Everyone was so close. Tight-knit. History, inside jokes, traditions. I felt like an outsider for a long time.”
Buck looked over. “You’re not. Not anymore.”
“Yeah,” Ravi said. “And that’s partly because of you. You treated me like a teammate from the beginning. You gave me space to be part of it.”
That shifted something inside of Buck.
“So whatever you choose?” Ravi finished, standing and dusting off his hands, “just… know you matter. And not just because of what you bring to a rescue.”
Buck offered a soft smile. “Thanks, Ravi. Really.”
They let the silence of the night wash over them for a moment, before Buck heard Ravi say softly, “I heard Chimney talking earlier. About Eddie coming back to the 118. In a few weeks.”
Buck looked at him, waited for him to continue.
“I’m glad he’s coming back. Really,” Ravi said. “But… I’d be lying if I said it didn’t throw me a bit.”
Buck frowned. “You think they’d move you off shift?”
Ravi shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe. I’m not blood. I’m not part of the original crew. I get it.”
“Ravi,” Buck said firmly, “you’ve been part of this team for years. And you’ve more than earned your place here. Don’t let anyone, especially not yourself, make you believe otherwise.”
Ravi swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I’m trying.”
Buck looked down at his hands. “We’ve both got a lot to figure out, huh?”
“Guess so.”
They sat for a few more moments, side by side, the sun fully dipped now, casting the city in muted amber and soft greys.
“Thanks for coming up,” Buck said finally.
Ravi smiled faintly. “Anytime.”
Ravi had been an unexpected surprise over the past few months. At first, Buck had felt the loss of Eddie as his partner like a missing limb, every call, every routine, had carried the echo of what used to be.
And yeah, in the beginning, Ravi had felt like a stand-in. The guy who filled Eddie’s turnout and stood in the passenger seat. But he’d never tried to replace Eddie. He just showed up, quiet, steady, and ready to do the work.
Over time, Buck had started to notice the things that made Ravi a good partner. He didn’t need the spotlight. He asked thoughtful questions, paid attention and took his role seriously without trying to prove anything. He wasn’t flashy, but he was solid, and more than that, he listened.
The truth was, Ravi didn’t just make a good partner. He made Buck feel like he could breathe on a shift again. Like he didn’t have to carry the weight of two people, or constantly manage someone else’s moods. With Ravi, there was balance. Mutual respect. A quiet sort of trust that had grown between them without either of them forcing it.
Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and watched as the city lights blinked on one by one. He wasn’t ready to make any big decisions tonight. But maybe, just maybe, the path forward wasn’t as black and white as it had seemed.
And maybe, just maybe, staying didn’t have to mean staying the same.
Notes:
I am so happy and grateful for all the comments, kudos and love for this story. Hope you enjoyed this one, it was a lot of fun to write! Love to hear what you think!
Chapter 5: Scorch Marks
Summary:
Buck’s suppressed grief explodes forcing him to confront the decision he’s been avoiding.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck managed to make a quick getaway after his shift ended. They’d only had a few more calls, a small house fire, a couple of car accidents, but the tension at the station had been thick enough to choke on. Buck kept his head down, stuck to the work, speaking only when spoken to.
It wasn’t just strained between him, Hen, and Chimney, even they seemed to be snapping at each other, exchanging terse remarks while trying to run the scene, Hen’s clipped ‘You need to make a decision, not a suggestion,’ and Chimney’s muttered ‘I’m trying.’ Buck knew this was going to be hard for Chimney. He’d never wanted to be in charge, had actively avoided it for years, and now he was stepping into Bobby’s shoes. And Hen… she’d worn that captain’s vest before. So of course she had opinions, and she wasn’t one to bite her tongue.
It was going to be interesting to see how that played out.
Back at the station, everyone kept to themselves. Buck had been waiting for Chimney to corner him, demanding an answer on if he was staying or not? But maybe the “Captain Han” comment had thrown him off. And honestly, part of Buck was relieved. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, not to Chimney, not to Hen, not to anyone.
The streets blurred past as Buck drove home. He was exhausted. The few hours he’d tried to catch sleep between calls hadn’t helped.
Every time he shut his eyes, he saw the mirrors, the smoke, the blood, Bobby’s ghost in the glass. His grip tightened on the wheel. Cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fear, or the guilt that came after.
Buck was looking forward to crashing when he got home. He had no plans for the rest of the day. Tommy was on a 48-hour shift after being off yesterday, so they wouldn’t see each other again until the weekend. Buck was disappointed, but that was the reality of dating another first responder. Unpredictable schedule.
As he turned onto his street, he spotted a familiar car parked in front of his house. Maddie. So much for his quiet day, he thought with a sigh, pulling in behind her.
Maddie stepped out of her car slowly, one hand rubbing gentle circles over her stomach as she walked toward him.
“Hey,” she said, eyes scanning him. “Don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,” she added, voice thick with sarcasm.
Buck snorted and then sighed. “What are you doing here, Maddie?”
“Can’t a sister come see her baby brother?”
He shook his head, motioning toward the front door. “Of course she can. She usually calls first, though.”
“Yeah, well. That hasn’t been working out so great lately, what with you dodging my calls.”
Buck sighed as he unlocked the door. “Do we have to do this right now? Can I at least have a cup of coffee before the interrogation starts?”
He loved Maddie, really, truly loved her. He knew how lucky he was in the sister department. But some days, she was like a wrecking ball, crashing through his carefully constructed silence. Buck wasn’t wired like her. Sometimes he needed space. Sometimes a sounding board. Maddie didn’t always see the difference.
“I’ll allow a cup of coffee,” she said as she stepped inside, “if you make me a cup of tea.”
She headed straight for the dining room. Soft couches didn’t cut it anymore, not this far into her pregnancy. So Buck wasn’t surprised when she lowered herself into a chair at the table.
In the kitchen, he busied himself with making her tea and brewing coffee for himself, grateful for the few moments of quiet. A chance to prepare for the inquisition.
When he finally brought her the tea, Maddie looked up at him with a soft, worried smile. Her eyes were filled with the kind of concern that made his chest ache. His stomach twisted, not just from guilt, but from knowing he was part of the weight she was already carrying. Their fingers brushed as he handed her the mug, and she wrapped both hands around it without drinking.
Buck sat down across from her, blowing on his coffee, waiting.
“Chim told me,” she said after a moment.
Buck blinked, stomach tightening. “Told you what?”
Maddie gave him a look. “About the transfer.”
Buck exhaled through his nose, annoyed but not surprised. “Of course he did.”
“I mean, what did you expect? He’s your friend, Buck. And my husband. Did you really think he was going to keep this from me?”
He ran a hand over his face. “Honestly? No. I didn’t expect anything less.” He looked at her, unsure how to bridge the gap between his silence and what she deserved to hear. “I wanted to tell you myself. I just didn’t know what to say. Or how to explain it.”
“Okay,” Maddie said, more gently now. “So… tell me.”
He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched and Maddie waited patiently for him to find his words.
“I don’t know,” Buck said finally. “I just… things at the 118 aren’t easy right now.”
“No,” Maddie agreed. “They’re not. But you’ve been through rough patches before.”
“Not like this.” His voice was quiet, but steady. “Bobby’s gone. And everything feels… off. Hen and Chim look at me like I’m about to spiral out of control at any second. Like I’m still that reckless kid who jumped off fire trucks without thinking.”
“You’re not,” Maddie said gently.
Buck gave a hollow laugh. “Tell them that.”
She sighed, then leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “Look, I know you’re grieving. And I know it’s complicated, but…you’ve worked so hard to build something there. That team, that family, it means something.”
“It meant something,” Buck corrected. “I’m not sure it still does.”
Maddie frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“It is,” he snapped, then winced. “Sorry. I just…every shift feels like I’m walking into a house that isn’t mine anymore. And I can’t keep pretending like I’m not suffocating in there.”
There was a long pause. Maddie’s eyes filled with emotion, like the weight of everything Buck had been carrying finally landed on her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize how much you’ve been struggling. I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
Buck shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.
Maddie took her time before she spoke again. “But I also think you’re not the only one struggling right now. Chimney's told me he’s overwhelmed. He’s worried he’s not cut out to lead. He doesn’t want to fail the team, or fail Bobby’s legacy. And he needs people around him who can keep him grounded. People who know what that place meant. People like you.”
Buck let out a slow breath, guilt creeping in despite himself.
“I’m not trying to guilt you,” she added quickly, catching the shift in his face. “I promise. I just…I want you to know that you matter there. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. And that you’re not the only one who’s unsure about the future of the 118.”
He looked away, his thumb running absently along the edge of his coffee mug. “It’s not just the station. It’s everything. I’m trying to figure out who I am without Bobby anchoring me. And I don’t know if I can do that surrounded by people who only see who I used to be.”
Maddie’s expression softened even further. “Then maybe a change would help. If you really think a transfer is what’s best for you, I’ll support it..support you. But whatever you decide…don’t shut me out, okay? I’m always going to be Team Buck .”
Buck gave a soft laugh at that, then he glanced up at her, voice low.
“I’m not trying to shut you out,” he said quietly.
Maddie tilted her head, the corner of her mouth twitching. “You kind of are.”
Buck let out a breath, something between a huff and a sigh. He didn’t argue.
Maddie watched him for a moment longer, then asked gently, “So… have you made a decision?”
Buck looked down at his coffee, swirling the last bit left in the mug. “Not really. I thought I had. I thought I was ready to go. But I’m struggling.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re not actually ready to give up on the 118 just yet,” Maddie offered softly. “A transfer’s always an option, but maybe you’re still hoping there’s something left to hold onto.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. Her words sank in. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t just him running from Bobby’s ghost or the ache of not having him there. Maybe there was a part of him that still wanted to stay, to see if it could feel like home again.
He didn’t smile, but his shoulders relaxed a little. He hadn’t made his decision yet, but the guilt, the fear that leaving would mean giving up, had him leaning towards staying.
“I’ll talk to Chim next shift,” he said at last. “Let him know one way or another.”
Maddie nodded, visibly relieved. She didn’t press further.
“What about you?” he asked, glancing back at her. “How are you doing? With the pregnancy… with Chim stepping up… with Jee?”
Maddie blinked, caught off guard by the sudden redirect, but her expression softened. “We’re okay,” she said. “Jee’s growing like a weed, talking non-stop. She asked if the baby’s going to sleep in her bed, which I’m still trying to explain is not happening.”
Buck chuckled quietly, and Maddie smiled.
“And Chim?” he asked.
Maddie hesitated for a beat. “He’s…tired. Stressed. He misses Bobby so much, Buck. And he’s carrying a lot of guilt over Bobby sacrificing himself to save his life. But he’s trying really hard. He wants to do right by everyone, he just doesn’t always know how to lead the people who still see him as second.”
Buck nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.”
“He respects you, you know,” Maddie added. “Even when he’s frustrated. He wants you there. But more than that, he needs to know he’s not in this alone.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. “You know I love Chim. He’ll always be family. But he also has to realize I’m not that dumb kid who stole fire trucks for hook-ups anymore. I’ve grown up. You say he respects me, but it doesn’t always feel that way.”
Maddie nodded. “That’s fair. Maybe it’s something you need to talk to him about?”
Buck sighed. What Maddie didn’t know was that he’d tried, more times than he could count, to show them he wasn’t that reckless, impulsive kid anymore. The only one who really saw it, who believed he’d changed, was Bobby.
The day Bobby told him he’d come a long way, that he was proud of him, Buck had felt, just for a moment, like maybe he didn’t have to keep proving himself. Like maybe he’d finally earned his place.
Buck was quiet for a moment, his fingers curled around the now-cold mug.
“You okay?” Maddie asked gently.
He nodded, eyes still on the table. “Yeah. Or…getting there, maybe.”
Maddie smiled. “Progress. I’ll take it.”
Buck glanced over at her belly. “How’s the tiny human treating you?”
She groaned dramatically. “Like a roommate who kicks me from the inside and refuses to pay rent.”
Buck snorted. “Sounds like Jee in training.”
“Please don’t curse me like that,” Maddie said, pointing at him. “One toddler with your chaos energy is enough.”
“She gets it from her mom,” Buck said innocently.
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “You want to try that again?”
“She gets it from Chim,” he amended quickly. “The chaos and the sass.”
“Mm-hmm.” Maddie stood with a small grunt, one hand on her back. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“I really am,” Buck said, and meant it.
Maddie paused at the door, looking back at him with a warm smile. “Text me after you talk to Chim, okay?”
“I will.”
“And if you don’t, I will show up again unannounced.”
Buck gave her a mock salute. “Terrifying as always.”
“Damn right” she said, already halfway to her car.
Once Maddie had left, Buck rinsed their mugs, set them on the rack to dry, then leaned on the counter for a long moment, hands braced, eyes unfocused.
Maybe you’re still hoping there’s something left to hold onto.
Maddie’s words played on repeat in his head, caught in an endless loop. He didn’t know what he wanted from the 118 anymore.
The more he thought about it, the more reluctant he was to leave, but he couldn’t ignore the part of him that didn’t want to be there without Bobby. The part that felt like he was starting to outgrow it.
Maybe it wasn’t just about grief. Maybe it was about change. About figuring out who he was now.
Buck wandered to the bedroom, the afternoon light soft through the curtains, and sat on the edge of the bed. He texted Tommy, ‘Hope your shift is going ok. Call me when you get a break. No rush’, then added a second message before he could overthink it. ‘Just want to hear your voice.’
He tossed the phone on the nightstand and stretched out on top of the covers, not bothering with the blanket. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, he just wanted to close his eyes for a bit, let the weight of everything settle. But sleep found him anyway.
****
The dream started like the mirror maze.
Smoke everywhere, curling at the edges of glass, hiding shapes that didn’t belong. Lights flickered, strobe-like, blue and white and too fast, and through the haze, he saw flashes: gloved hands reaching, blood smeared on glass, Bobby’s body slumped against a wall.
Only this time, the room wasn’t mirrored. He was back in the lab. Bobby was on the floor again, coughing, blood on his lips, gasping for air.
“Buck,” he rasped. “Help me.”
Buck dropped to his knees beside him, tried to touch him, but Bobby’s body vanished like smoke, evaporating into nothing.
Then the mirrors returned.
Endless versions of Buck stared back at him, twisted in grief, screaming into silence. Behind each reflection, Bobby’s lifeless face stared back. Over and over and over.
“You let me die,” the reflections whispered.
****
Buck woke with a gasp, heart racing, throat tight. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
He sat up too fast, swaying slightly as he tried to ground himself. Sweat dripped down his face, his heart thudding against his ribs.
Just a dream, he told himself. Just a dream.
It took a minute before the world came back into focus, the muted light in the bedroom, the distant sound of traffic, and the faint buzz coming from the nightstand.
His phone.
He reached for it with shaking fingers.
Incoming call: Tommy
He hesitated for a beat, still catching his breath, then swiped to answer.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough around the edges.
There was a pause, then Tommy’s voice, familiar and steady. “Hey. Did I wake you?”
Buck sank back against the pillows, still feeling the echo of the dream pulsing through his chest. “Yeah. But I’m glad you called.”
He could hear Tommy moving around, a door closing, the quiet shift of footsteps, like he was finding a quieter spot.
“How was the rest of your shift?” Tommy asked.
“Long,” Buck muttered. “Awkward.”
Tommy let that hang. He didn’t press. “You want a distraction?”
Buck huffed a breath. “Distraction sounds good.”
“All right. Let’s see... half the 217 is trying to convince Mac to requisition jet skis.”
Buck blinked, caught off guard. “Jet skis?”
“For ‘training purposes,’” Tommy said flatly. “They’re calling it a ‘multi-modal response upgrade.’ I’m calling it Mario Kart on water.”
That pulled a weak laugh from Buck. He sat up slowly, leaning back against the headboard as Tommy’s voice steadied something in his chest.
“Sounds like you’re having a real productive shift.”
“Oh, the height of productivity. Just wait till they start lobbying for rescue drones that drop snack packs.”
“Honestly?” Buck said, smiling faintly. “I’d respect the hustle.”
Tommy was quiet for a beat, then said, softer now, “You sure you’re okay?”
Buck rubbed a hand over his face. “It was a rough day. But I’m doing better now.”
Another pause.
“Maddie came by,” Buck added. “We talked.”
“About the transfer?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah.” Buck glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he was still trying to shake off the last remnants of the dream. “She asked if I’d made up my mind. I haven’t. But…I think I’m leaning toward staying. At least for now.”
He bit his lip as he waited for Tommy’s response.
“I get it,” Tommy said simply. “The 118’s hard to walk away from. Just make sure you’re not staying because you feel guilty. You deserve to be where you feel seen.”
“And hey,” he continued, “If you change your mind in a month, a year form now, I doubt you’ll have any trouble finding a house that wants you. Hell, half of them would probably fight over you.”
Buck smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. “Thanks.”
“Just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
Buck shook his head. “You’re biased.”
“Extremely. But I’m also right.”
After a moment, Buck asked, “What do you think about doing something this weekend? You’re off Saturday, right?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “What’re you thinking?”
“I don’t know. Something fun. Like… stupid-fun.”
Tommy considered. “Stupid-fun. So, like…go-karts?”
“I’ve seen your Mario Kart skills. That seems dangerous.”
“Rude. Accurate, but rude.”
Buck grinned. “What about mini-golf? Preferably with a deeply questionable pirate theme.”
“Even better. Loser buys milkshakes.”
“You just want an excuse for milkshakes.”
“Obviously,” Tommy said. “Also, I’m gonna win.”
“You’re going down,” Buck said, already smiling. “Alright. Pirate golf and milkshakes. It’s a date.”
Tommy’s voice softened. “Yeah. It is.”
And just like that, the shadows of the dream faded.
Notes:
Loved all the comments on last chapter! There is a method to my madness so lots of interesting things planned for this story! Lots of fun and emotional things to come!
Hope you enjoy and always love to hear your thoughts! Thanks again for the love!
Chapter 6: Kindling
Summary:
Buck makes a decision and a chaotic aquarium rescue puts Chimney’s leadership to the test, Buck begins to find his rhythm again, while Tommy receives a surprising new opportunity.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A few days later, Chimney was already waiting when Buck walked in. He caught Buck’s eye from across the bay and gave a nod toward the office, Bobby’s office.
Buck hesitated at the threshold. The door was open, but the weight of the room pressed against him like it had a mind of its own. The light was different in here now, brighter but somehow colder. Bobby used to keep the blinds half-closed, like he preferred the space quiet and dim, like a chapel. Now, sun spilled across the desk, highlighting clean lines and empty frames.
Chimney stood behind the desk but didn’t sit. “Thanks for coming in early.”
Buck gave a faint nod, stepping inside and pulling the door mostly closed behind him. “Figured we should talk.”
There was a pause between them, not quite awkward, but reverent. This was the first time they’d been in this room together since, well. Since everything.
Chimney cleared his throat. “Still doesn’t feel like mine.”
Buck looked around. “It’s not yet. But one day it will.”
Chimney huffed a breath. “Yeah.”
Buck leaned against the wall, arms folded loosely. “Is it official?”
Chimney looked up.
“That you’re taking over,” Buck clarified. “As captain.”
There was a moment before Chimney responded. “Pending final sign-off. But yeah. It’s happening.”
Buck nodded, thoughtful. “It’s what Bobby would’ve wanted.”
“Thanks,” Chimney said quietly. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” Buck agreed. “It doesn’t.”
They stood in silence a moment longer, both carrying the shape of Bobby’s absence in different ways. Buck’s gaze drifted to the corner of the office where Bobby used to keep an old filing cabinet, the one that never quite closed properly. It was gone now. So were the little knick knacks Bobby had collected over the years, framed photos, crew commendations, the yacht ornament that Buck had gifted him last year for Christmas. All of it. Now, the office was bare. Sterile. Like someone had come through with the intent to scrub it clean. As if Bobby was being erased from the 118.
“I’ve decided to stay,” Buck said suddenly, his voice quieter than he meant. “Talked to Maddie. She… gave me some things to think about. And so yeah… I’ve pulled my transfer request.”
Chimney’s shoulders eased a little. “I’m glad. I think it’s the right call. You belong here.”
Maybe, he thought. Buck still wasn’t sure if that was true. But he didn’t say that. He didn’t want to voice those doubts to Chimney. They were friends, family, even, but they didn’t have the same kind of connection he’d had with Bobby. Chimney wasn’t his safe space. Not like that.
And Buck knew Chimney was carrying his own weight. The survivor’s guilt. The pressure of stepping into Bobby’s shoes and holding a grieving team together. The cracks had been showing for weeks, and Buck couldn’t blame him for the distance that had formed between them. Still, he wanted to give him a chance, as captain, at least. But the knot in his stomach only tightened. Staying didn’t feel like relief. It felt like holding his breath.
“With Eddie back at the 118 at the end of the month,” Chimney said after a beat, “It’ll be good to have all of us under one roof again.”
Buck didn’t respond to that. The word all caught on something sharp inside him. Because they wouldn’t be. Not really. Not without Bobby.
He swallowed and shifted his weight. “So he’s definitely coming back then?”
Chimney nodded. “Yeah. He’s wrapping things up in El Paso, and Chief signed off on his return to the 118.”
Buck hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Is he coming back to the engine? I was kind of hoping to stay partnered with Ravi.”
Chimney’s brow ticked up in surprise. “Yeah? Everything good between you and Eddie?”
Buck paused, just a second too long. “Yeah,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. “It’s not...everything’s fine. I just think… Ravi and I have a good thing going.”
Chimney studied him. “Huh. I guess I figured you’d want to get back to partnering with Eddie.”
Buck looked away, toward the light spilling across the desk. “We’ve been building something here, me and Ravi. It feels solid. And honestly? He’s still unsure of his place here. He thinks Eddie coming back means he’s off the team or getting pushed to another shift. He’s been second-guessing himself a little, like he’s just been filling a seat.”
Chimney leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “I didn’t realize he was feeling that way.”
“He won’t bring it up,” Buck said. “But it’s there. He wants to belong here. He wants to earn his place. And I think he has.”
Chimney nodded, softer now. “He has. I’ve seen it. He’s stepped up. And you’ve been good for him, coaching him on calls, giving him space to learn. You two have a good rhythm. No reason to mess with that.”
Some of the tension in Buck’s shoulders loosened. He gave a small nod.
“You don’t have to worry,” Chimney added. “I wasn’t planning on moving him. The only open spot right now is mine. When Eddie gets back, he’ll be stepping into the medic role with Hen.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Buck said.
Chimney let out a short breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? That part’s going to be weird. I’ve been out there with a med bag slung over my shoulder for almost two decades. Now I’m in the captain’s seat, calling the plays instead of following them.”
Buck nodded. He understood more than he said.
Chimney cracked a wry smile. “But hey, at least now when you go rogue, I get to invent the punishments. I’ve got years of ideas saved up. So be prepared.”
Buck gave a faint smile in return, automatic, polite but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was meant as a joke, but for Buck, it was anything but funny.
****
Buck stood off to the side in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The loft was gradually filling with the familiar sounds of morning, the shuffle of boots, the scrape of gear bags, Hen’s laughter drifting in from the bay, the low hum of conversation as Ravi chatted with Chimney near the stairs. It should’ve felt comforting. But instead, it all felt far away, like he was watching a version of his life through thick glass.
As the others made their way up to the loft, Buck greeted them as they passed, offering smiles, nods, the occasional quiet “hey.” But he didn’t dive into conversation the way he used to. Didn’t ask questions or trade jokes. He didn’t know why it felt like this. Why, standing among the people he considered family, he felt like an outsider looking in.
Everything felt muted. Off. Like he was half a beat behind the rhythm of the room.
Maybe he was just tired. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately. The nightmares were back. Bobby’s voice calling out to him. The sight of his face, ashen, still. The unbearable silence that followed. Every time Buck closed his eyes, it was there. And every time, it left him more hollow than before.
So he stood on the fringe of the group, hands curled around his mug like it might anchor him. He smiled faintly when someone cracked a joke, nodded at the right moments, just going through the motions. He didn’t have the energy for more than that.
Chimney clapped his hands once to get everyone’s attention, stepping forward as conversations began to lull. “All right, before we get moving today, a couple updates.”
Everyone turned toward him, the easy chatter fading into quiet.
“First off,” Chimney said, his voice a little steadier than Buck expected, “I just want to say I know the past few weeks have been really hard. It’s going to take some time for us to find our footing without Bobby. There’s no pretending otherwise.”
The loft fell quiet. No one moved. No one quite knew what to say.
Chimney cleared his throat and went on, “But I believe if we stick together, if we keep showing up for each other, we’ll get through this. One shift at a time.”
Buck stared down into his coffee, throat tightening. That knot in his chest pulled just a little tighter.
Chimney let the silence breathe for a moment before continuing. “Now for some updates. You all know I’ve been acting captain this past week. Chief Simpson’s making it official next week, so, like it or not, you’re looking at Captain Han.”
There were a few claps, a couple of good-natured groans, but mostly smiles. Hen offered a dry, “Lord help us,” and Chimney grinned.
“Second,” he went on, glancing briefly at Buck before addressing the group again, “Buck has made the wise decision to stay. So we’re not losing our resident golden retriever after all.”
That earned a few chuckles, a handful of back pats and shoulder squeezes. Buck offered a small, self-conscious smile in return. He knew it was meant as a compliment, affectionate, even. But sometimes, the comparison felt like an insult. Like he was a lovable idiot. Someone to cheer people up, not someone you leaned on. Not someone you took seriously.
Ravi gave Buck a subtle, surprised glance, then looked away, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. Relief written plainly across his face.
“And finally,” Chimney said, “Eddie’s return’s been approved. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks, stepping into the medic role with Hen.”
Hen raised an eyebrow. “Guess we’ll see if he remembers how to put in an IV line.”
Chimney snorted. “Just don’t haze him too hard.”
The group began to disperse, peeling off toward chores and morning routines while they waited for a call to come in. The energy lifted a little, the tension easing as boots scuffed across the floor and coffee mugs were refilled.
Ravi approached Buck casually, bumping shoulders just slightly as he passed.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and easy. “Thanks.”
Buck blinked. “For what?”
Ravi just shrugged, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Just… yeah. Thanks.”
Buck nodded once, not really sure what Ravi was thanking him for, but glad to see a few less stress lines on his friend.
Ravi quickly joined the others to get started on the day, but Buck wasn’t in a rush. Instead, he moved toward the corner, where he could look out over the bay without being in anyone’s direct line of sight from below. It was another sunny day in LA, and the light set the station aglow.
He watched dust float through the sunbeams, motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He hated feeling like this, but he didn’t know how to change it. Like he was just out of sync with the world around him. His body kept moving, his mouth kept saying the right things, but underneath, something was missing.
He thought after he made his decision to stay that a weight would be lifted, that he wouldn't feel so lost. But it hadn’t. He was still second guessing his decision to stay and his place on the team and in this house.
Quiet footsteps approached from the other side of the loft. He didn’t turn, but he knew it was Hen, there was an unmistakable aura that followed her, he always knew when she entered a room.
She stopped a few feet away, silent at first, sipping her coffee as if she had all the time in the world.
“You must be excited for Eddie’s return?” she asked eventually, watching him carefully over the rim of her mug.
Buck swallowed. That was such a loaded question.
Of course part of him was happy Eddie was coming back, with Chris, back in LA, back on their team. But there was also distance now. Anger. Tension that hadn’t eased in months.
The time apart had shown Buck something he didn’t want to admit, just how dependent he’d been on Eddie. And he didn’t like it. He was trying to figure out how to be Eddie’s friend without orbiting his life around him. Trying to reclaim space that had become too tangled, too close, too fraught.
And Eddie, Eddie wasn’t the same either. There was a new edge to him, something simmering beneath the surface. Whether it was misplaced guilt or something else, Buck didn’t know. But it made him uneasy.
He was questioning the foundation of their friendship now. Questioning whether it could survive this space between them. And if it couldn’t… then what?
It had been easier to breathe since Eddie had gone back to Texas. With distance, there was no pressure to fix anything. But that time was running out. Sooner rather than later, Buck would have to face him, and he still didn’t know how. Or what he would even say.
“Yeah…” Buck said finally, voice quieter than before. “It’ll be… good. Having both him and Chris back in the city.”
He didn’t look at her when he said it. Hen didn’t press, she just nodded slowly. He was saved from further questions when the bell rang. Hen jogged past him, slapping his shoulder gently as she passed. “Let’s go, golden retriever. Time to earn your keep.”
Buck gave a half-smile, his hand tightening briefly around the coffee mug. At least they weren’t calling him Lassie , he thought wryly.
Chimney was already at the engine, radio in hand. “Aquarium on Wilshire,” he called. “Possible structural breach, water tank leak and trapped personnel. Aquarium staff on scene.”
“Please tell me it’s not the shark tank,” Hen muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.
Chimney fired up the siren as they rolled out into traffic, lights flashing.
“Try not to bond with any sea life today, Buck,” Hen teased.
“No promises,” he muttered.
The scene outside the aquarium was already chaotic. Guests milled near the emergency exits, kids crying, parents yelling, and someone in a dolphin mascot costume directing traffic like their life depended on it. Aquarium employees waved frantically as they pulled up to the main entrance.
Chimney was out of the cab before the wheels even stopped rolling. “What’s the situation?”
A frazzled manager rushed over, badge crooked, pants soaked to the knees. “The maintenance cart slammed into the Coral Reef tank. Diver’s still inside. Water’s flooding the corridor. Guests are panicking, and the smaller tanks are starting to crack from the pressure shift,” she rattled off.
Chimney nodded and turned to them. “Buck, Ravi, you’re with me. Hen, start civilian evac. We’ve got families panicking and toddlers trying to play with the fish.”
“I’m on it,” Hen said, already moving.
They rounded a corner, and stopped short. The Coral Reef tank loomed in front of them, a massive wall of glass spider-webbed with fractures. Water poured through the largest crack like a burst dam, flooding the exhibit floor. Inside, a scuba diver was caught near the top of the tank, tangled in tubing, and clinging to her was a clearly disgruntled octopus, its tentacles wrapped tight as it tried to pull her lower.
“Oh, great,” Buck muttered. “Of course it’s the octopus tank.”
“Tank integrity’s still holding,” Chimney said, scanning the structure. “But barely. We’ve got minutes before the whole thing blows.”
“Ravi, help me shore up the doors to the corridor,” Chimney added. “Keep the guests out.”
“Copy.” Ravi jogged off, water already lapping around his boots. A blue tang fish flopped beside his foot in a shallow puddle. He sighed. “Damn it, Jim, I’m a firefighter, not a fisherman.”
Buck huffed a laugh. Chimney shot Ravi a look of both judgment and admiration before glancing at Buck. “Hope you brought your fishing pole.”
Buck’s mouth curled into a crooked grin. “I’ll try not to get inked.”
And just like that, standing ankle-deep in water, an octopus in crisis ahead of him, some of the weight eased. This, he could do. This made sense.
Buck made his way to the employee entrance that led to the top of the Coral Reef tank. The staff platform was slick with seawater and panic. Dropping his gear bag beside the edge, he peeled off his turnout and boots, trading them for the emergency half-mask and rebreather.
“Be careful,” Chimney called up. “That thing’s got eight arms and no moral compass.”
Buck snorted. “Comforting. Thanks.”
He eased into the tank from the shallow exhibit access, the water climbing over his chest, then his shoulders. Cold, but not shocking, his nerves were already humming too loud to feel it.
Inside the tank, the diver was trapped halfway down, her body pinned against the curved glass. One arm was tangled in some tubing and mesh, the other mostly immobilized by the octopus wrapped firmly around her torso. She was conscious, barely, but her movements were sluggish, her air starting to run low.
And the octopus? It wasn’t letting go.
“Hey there, buddy,” Buck said softly, wading closer, letting his tone drop into that easy cadence he used with frightened kids and panicked pets. “I know this looks bad, but let’s all just take a minute and breathe, yeah?”
The octopus responded by curling tighter, the tips of its arms twitching across the diver’s chest plate.
Buck stayed calm. “Okay. Not a fan of strangers. Totally valid. But listen, your living room’s leaking, your human roommate’s stuck, and I’m your best shot at making this not worse.”
He slipped the mask over his face and lowered himself underwater.
The tank was a haze of bubbles and fish. He kicked down slowly, avoiding sharp movements. The octopus tracked him as he approached, its pupils dilating in defense.
Buck ignored the weight settling in his chest and focused on the diver’s harness. He gently tugged at the mesh caught on the cleaning rig, then reached for the tubing twisted beneath the octopus’s grip.
“Come on,” he murmured through his rebreather, as though the octopus might be listening. “Let her go. You can hold me if you want, but let her go.”
For one suspended moment, nothing happened, then one arm slowly, almost thoughtfully, unwrapped from the diver’s ribs.
Progress.
Buck kept talking, soothing and steady. One hand working the knots loose, the other braced in case the octopus changed its mind.
The octopus gave a twitch, a warning curl of two limbs, as Buck reached again for the mesh net. He stilled, waiting for its grip to shift.
“Easy, pal,” he said, voice muffled through the rebreather.
The woman stirred, barely. Her eyes blinked, unfocused behind her fogged mask.
“I’ve got you,” Buck said, though she couldn’t hear him. He squeezed her shoulder gently, hoping it would register.
With one last careful motion, he loosened the mesh bag caught on a hook. It floated free, and the diver’s limbs began to move again, still slow, but no longer stuck.
The octopus hesitated, its grip uncertain. One limb curled around Buck’s wrist, like a pulse check.
Then, finally, it let go. It drifted back toward the rocks, wrapping itself into a corner of the tank, no longer a threat, just spooked.
Buck wasted no time. He looped an arm under the diver’s shoulders and kicked for the surface, bubbles trailing behind them. The water above rippled, fractured by the breach. As they broke through, gasping, Chimney was already leaning over the railing with a rope and rescue sling.
“Got her?” Chimney called out.
“Yeah,” Buck said, pushing the diver upward.
As Chimney hauled her to safety, Buck followed, grabbing the edge of the tank and flopping over the side with a soaked grunt, landing flat on the mat beside her.
“She okay?” he asked, coughing.
“She will be,” Chimney said, checking her pulse. “Vitals are solid.”
Buck peeled off the rebreather, chest heaving, water dripping from his curls. He lay there a second longer than necessary.
Chimney squinted down at him. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Buck said, catching his breath. “Just made a new friend. Eight arms. No chill.”
As the two of them helped move the diver to the waiting ambulance, Hen intercepted a six-year-old halfway into the stingray touch tank.
“Kid,” she snapped, catching him around the middle, “what are you doing?”
The boy pointed dramatically toward the water. “I’m gonna save Dory!”
Hen groaned, hoisting him up. “You are not. Let’s go find your parents, Aquaman.”
Across the hall, Ravi reappeared from a flooded corridor, arms full of sloshing plastic bins filled with displaced tropical fish. His boots squelched as he walked.
“Please tell me we’re done,” he said. “If I never see a fish again, it'll be too soon.”
Buck let out a surprised bark of laughter at the sheer absurdness of the call. The sound startled even him, louder, lighter than anything that had come out of his mouth in days. The team regrouped by the engine, soaked and slightly fish-scented, but intact. The diver was safe. The tanks were stabilizing as a repair crew worked to seal the leaks. The aquarium staff were already starting to sweep up the mess.
Buck stood beside Ravi, still dripping, watching a rescued clownfish swirl lazily in a bucket at their feet.
“Who knew octopuses liked to chat,” Buck said.
“You talked to it?”
“Yeah,” Buck said, shrugging. “What else was I going to do? Sure as hell wasn’t going to pet it.”
Ravi looked at him for a moment, then offered a quiet grin. “You're a strange man, Buck.”
Buck smiled back, this time, just a little less automatic. Chimney called out from the cab, “Load up, team. We’re done playing Jacques Cousteau for the day.”
As they climbed back into the engine, Buck took one last glance at the aquarium entrance, tourists still milling about, staff sweeping up the aftermath, kids still wide-eyed with excitement.
He wasn’t sure if the tightness in his chest had eased or if it was just the adrenaline fading. But for the first time in a while, the silence in his head didn’t feel quite so heavy. Maybe staying wasn’t the answer. But today, it felt a little less like giving in, and a little more like choosing to try.
The laughter lingered a moment longer than it should have, like sunlight catching on water. Then the engine doors swung shut, and the city pulled them onward again.
****
Tommy’s phone buzzed just as he was peeling off his flight suit in the locker room, sweat clinging to the back of his neck from the last coastal patrol. He fished the phone out of his pocket with one hand while undoing a Velcro strap with the other.
Evan:Did you know octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body!
He could always count on Buck to send him the most random things. He had missed it over the months they had been broken up. He had come to look forward to Buck’s random fact of the day. He got so excited about the information he discovered that he just burst to tell everyone. The way he made the world feel bigger. More curious. Like wonder wasn’t something you outgrew. Like it was something worth sharing.
Tommy: What brought on this deep dive on octopuses?
Evan: I may or may not have gone toe to toe, or is it toe to tentacle....With an octopus today.
Tommy had to read that a few times. There must be some sort of spell cast over the 118, because they just seemed to get the weirdest calls. They never used to get half of the wild and crazy calls they get now when he was stationed there.
Tommy: I think I’m going to need a little more.
Evan: Well you’ll have to wait for our date. I’m saving this story for in person!
A date. It had only been a week since they started seeing each other again, quietly, carefully, but the word still gave him a twinge of something warm in his chest.
He wanted to get it right this time. The time apart had only solidified how he felt about Buck. There was still so much they needed to say, to work through, but he couldn’t deny how much he was enjoying this “getting to know you again” phase of their relationship.
It felt more settled than last time. Like they were both more at peace with themselves and with each other.
“You look way too pleased with yourself for someone who just logged eight hours in a flight suit.”
Tommy didn’t turn right away. He took a second to stash his suit in the laundry bin and tuck his phone into his bag before glancing over his shoulder. “Maybe I just really love the smell of jet fuel.”
Ryan snorted. “That, or someone cute is texting you,” she said with a wink. “No judgment.”
Tommy rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. MacKenzie Ryan had a way of seeing straight through people, and Tommy had learned there was no point pretending otherwise.
She stepped fully into the room and tossed a folder onto the bench beside him. “I’ve got something for you.”
“That sounds ominous,” he said, settling onto the bench and flipping it open.
“It’s a training proposal. Cross-certification in water and land-based technical rescue, ropes, confined space, diving, structural and swift-water entry. It’s accelerated. I want you to be able to float between teams when needed.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You want me to do both?”
“Not full-time. Just be ready to slot in. The more versatile our team is, the better we operate in a crisis.” She paused, voice softening slightly. “And honestly? You’re one of the only people I trust to keep their head straight, whether they’re in the sky or on the ground.”
The compliment settled between them, weightier than she probably meant it to.
He liked the 217. Liked the evolving rhythm of it under Mac’s command. There was a time, not long ago, when something like this might have made him hesitate. Worry about overcommitting, about being stretched too thin. He was still finding his footing as lieutenant and the additional responsibilities that came with that.
But lately… he felt steadier. Clearer about who he was. What he wanted. What kind of firefighter, and what kind of partner, he wanted to be.
His eyes drifted to the faint glow of his phone screen still visible in his bag. Buck’s message lingered at the top.
A date.
Tommy smiled again, this time to himself.
“Okay,” he said, looking up. “Let’s do it.”
Ryan gave a satisfied nod, her signature approval-smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Knew you’d say yes. Orientation starts next week. I’ll get you the rest of the schedule.”
She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “And hey, whoever’s texting you? They must be something special. I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
Tommy didn’t respond right away. He just watched her go, the door swinging shut behind her, her words still hanging in the air.
Then he reached for his phone again, thumb tapping out a reply.
Tommy: You’re a menace.
Evan: 😈😘
Tommy snorted under his breath, the grin tugging at his mouth entirely involuntary now. Yeah. He was in trouble. The good kind.
Notes:
So Buck made his decisions, but did he make the right one... time will tell ;) Thank you again for all your love and comments on this story, I am loving writing it, lots of twists and turns to come! Next chapter is a lot of fun with the pirate mini putt (had too much fun with that one!)
Always love to hear what you think! 😘
Chapter 7: Anchor Point
Summary:
Buck and Tommy’s relationship begins to solidify as a fun-filled date brings them back to a familiar, easy comfort and opens the door to something deeper.
Notes:
Surprise another chapter! I know not everyone was happy with Buck's decision, but I promise there is a method to my madness... and since y'all were excited for their pirate themed date, I decided to upload this one a little early! Hope you enjoy, it was a lot of fun to write! xo
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck bolted upright in bed, blinking hard as he tried to clear his vision. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythms, sweat already cooling against his skin. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t reach for the light. Just let the shadows settle around him, the silence folding in close, the familiar weight of terror pressing against his ribs.
It wasn’t the same dream every time, sometimes he was watching Bobby through the glass, pounding on it, trying to get in. Other times, he was in the room with him, screaming for him to do something, but it was never enough. In the end, Bobby was always gone.
Buck scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up, breath catching on the exhale. There was no going back to sleep now. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grounding bare feet against cool floorboards. He padded toward the kitchen without turning on the lights. He didn’t need to. His body moved on instinct.
He pulled out flour, sugar, cinnamon, the stand mixer and started to bake. Preheat the oven. Line the tray. Crack the eggs. Stir. Measure. Fold. The motions steadied him.
He wasn’t even sure what he was making, maybe muffins, but it didn’t matter. Baking wasn’t about the end result, not really. It was about doing something with his hands. Creating something warm in a world that had felt cold for too long.
The last shift had been fine, nothing went wrong and no one got hurt. It was the kind of day that, on paper, he should’ve been grateful for. But there was still that edge. That sense that something was off. Like the air was too still. Like he was moving half a beat behind everyone else.
They didn’t say anything, not out loud, but he could feel it. Chimney and Hen spoke softer when he was near. The careful glances. The polite distance.
It was funny, in a way. In the first few weeks after Bobby passed, Buck had gone out of his way to check on everyone else. Always asking how they were doing. If they needed anything. If there was anything he could do to help.
Not once did Chimney or Hen ask him how he was doing. If he needed anything. They just looked at him like he was something to be pitied. Like he was in the way, almost as if he didn’t have the right to be there for them.
But still, he couldn’t deny the ache in his chest when he caught the hushed tones of their frustrations with him. The careful silences. The looks they thought he didn’t see.
Still, he kept trying. Showing up. Offering support. Carrying the weight for them, even when no one asked him to. Until the energy just…drained out of him. Because the truth was, they didn’t seem to need him. Not really. Not the way Bobby had said they would. They didn’t seem to want him there either, not in the way that mattered, at least. So he stepped back.
And now it felt like they just expected everything to be fine. So he’d been thrown when Chimney handed him the spatula yesterday afternoon like it was some kind of peace offering.
“Wanna help me with lunch?” Chimney had asked.
And Buck had wanted to say yes. He wanted to step back into that rhythm, cooking food, sharing it, joking as they ate. But he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. So he’d just shaken his head and left the room. Hushed whispers followed his exit, but no one called after him. No one stopped him from leaving.
It surprised him how hard it had become. Because right after Bobby died, he’d clung to that kitchen like it was sacred ground. He kept cooking. Hoping for some sense of normalcy. He thought if he kept Bobby’s traditions alive, maybe it would be enough to carry them through. But it didn’t, and now something in him had shifted.
Now, stepping behind that stove just made his chest feel tight. It hurt too much.
The timer on his oven beeped, surprising him, he hadn’t realized he’d set one. Buck exhaled slowly and opened the oven door, the rush of heat blooming against his face. Whatever he’d made, it smelled like cinnamon and brown sugar and something almost like comfort.
He set the tray of muffins down gently and leaned against the counter.
This wasn’t how he pictured the morning going. Then again, nothing ever really went to plan these days. He was treading water, barely keeping his head above the surface.
The only bright spot had been Tommy.
Tommy, who had become his light at the end of the tunnel. Who gave him something to look forward to. Something to hope for. Even in the worst of it, through the grief, the guilt, the constant sense of being unmoored, Tommy had become something steady. Something good.
He showed up quietly. In texts. In check-ins. In moments when Buck hadn’t even known he needed grounding, until it was there.
Buck hadn’t known, when he called Tommy that night to help save Chimney and outrun the army and FBI, that it would end with them losing Bobby. But it had brought him and Tommy closer. And somehow, that gave him hope. Hope that he might actually get through this because he had something to live for.
****
When Tommy pulled up to the curb Buck was already waiting out front for him, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly tousled, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the tiredness in his eyes.
Tommy rolled down the window. “You ready to have your ass handed to you by a peg-legged pirate with a tiny golf club?”
Buck laughed as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Bring it on, Blackbeard!”
That’s when Tommy noticed the Tupperware container in his hands.
“What’s that?” he asked, watching Buck carefully set it in the back seat.
“My promised muffins,” Buck said proudly. “They aren’t rhubarb, but they’re still pretty tasty, if I do say so myself.”
“You baked those?”
Buck snorted. “Don’t sound so surprised. I could be on the Great British Bake Off with my skills.”
Tommy laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “Well, then I look forward to devouring them,” he said cheekily.
They cruised through the streets of L.A., the sun dipping low in the sky, casting everything in warm gold. For a moment, the silence between them was easy. Comfortable.
Then Buck turned slightly in his seat, eyes lit up. “So, is it story time?”
Tommy laughed at the excitement in his voice. “Hit me with it.”
“So last shift, we got called to an aquarium rescue,” Buck began, already grinning. “A golf cart hit one of the tanks, don’t even ask me how, and it started flooding. Fish were flopping everywhere.”
Tommy barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. One of the divers got tangled up with some tubing and an octopus!”
Tommy let out another sharp laugh. “You’re actually kidding.”
Buck held up a hand like he was swearing an oath. “Swear to God. I had to soothe the octopus off the diver so we could get her untangled and back up before she ran out of oxygen.”
Tommy glanced over at him, smiling despite himself. God, he’d missed this, Buck animated, telling stories with his whole body, his eyes brighter than they’d been in weeks.
“I wish I’d seen that…Wait, how do you even soothe an octopus?”
Buck smirked. “A calm voice and good vibes.”
Tommy shook his head, still smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
“But effective,” Buck said, and that grin stayed on his face the rest of the drive.
Tommy paused, hands loose on the wheel, debating whether to bring it up. He kept his tone even. “So… Mac cornered me at the end of shift.”
Buck turned toward him, interest flickering in his eyes. “Yeah? For what?”
“Cross-team rescue certification. Land, sea, and air.” Tommy kept his eyes on the road, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in a small smile. “She wants me to take on additional training for advanced ops.”
Buck let out a low whistle. “That’s awesome.”
Tommy shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but the way his fingers tapped once against the steering wheel said otherwise. “Yeah, she, uh… she told me I was one of the few people she trusted to handle both sides. Pilot and rescue.”
Buck was quiet for a beat, then softly said, “That’s… huge.”
Tommy glanced over. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Buck offered a smile, small, but real. “You deserve it. All of it. I’m just really glad someone sees how good you are at both jobs.”
Something warm settled in Tommy’s chest at the words. With everything Buck had been through, with everything they’d been through, it still struck him how genuine Buck could be. Always showing up for other people, even when his own footing was shaky.
Tommy cleared his throat, nudging the moment forward as they headed toward the entrance of the pirate-themed mini putt. “Any luck on the apartment hunt?”
Buck exhaled through his nose, “Couple places I’m checking out next week. Nothing serious yet.”
“You want a second opinion?” Tommy asked, a teasing note in his voice. “I’ve got thoughts about windows and closet space. And natural light. It’s a whole thing.”
Buck smiled, that softer kind he didn’t give to just anyone. “Yeah. I’d like that. Maybe once I narrow it down to a couple of top picks.”
The moment they stepped into Yo Ho Hole-in-One , Buck let out a low whistle. “Okay, I was not expecting this,” he said, taking in the glowing pirate ships, neon treasure chests, and looming skeletal captains lit in fluorescent blue. The entire course pulsed under blacklight like some unhinged Caribbean rave.
“And yet,” Tommy said, “you can’t wait to get started.”
Buck grinned as they made their way to the counter to pay and pick up their clubs. “This is either going to be the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever done…or the best.”
Tommy plucked the most aggressively neon pink putter from the rack and handed it to him with zero shame. “Wait until you face off against the Kraken Hole. It spits balls.”
Buck laughed, “Who knew pirate mini putt could be so dirty.”
Tommy laughed too, deliberately brushing his hand against Buck’s lower back as they reached the first hole. He smirked, “Everything on this course spits, explodes, or rocks violently. Frankly, I’m surprised it doesn’t come with a safe word.”
Buck froze mid-step, turning to stare at him with wide eyes and a slow grin. “Okay. Wow. Remind me to never underestimate pirate-themed foreplay.”
He looked at the obstacle, an old wooden jail cell with swinging bars and a glowing animatronic parrot perched above, then back at Tommy.
“How about a side bet?” Buck asked, voice full of mischief.
Tommy tilted his head. “What kind of bet?”
“How about instead of milkshakes,” Buck said, stepping closer, voice dropping, “we make it dessert.”
“If I win,” he added, now toe to toe with Tommy, “you’re buying, and I get to pick what kind.”
Tommy grinned. “And if I win?”
Buck’s smile turned slow and wicked. “Then you still buy dessert. But I’ll behave.”
Tommy barked a laugh. “So basically, I lose either way.”
Buck shrugged. “That depends on how you feel about whipped cream.”
“Jesus, Evan,” Tommy muttered, his eyes flicking down to Buck’s mouth before snapping back up. The heat in Buck’s eyes was unmistakable. They were supposed to be taking it slow, but damn if Buck didn’t make it hard to stick to the plan.
“So?” Buck asked, smug now. “Is it a bet?”
Tommy exhaled sharply, trying to ground himself. “How about something a little more PG… loser buys dessert, and winner picks the location of our next date.”
Buck sighed, “Boring, but fine. Deal.” He stuck out his hand to shake on it.
Tommy took it, his grip lingering just a beat too long. “You’re going down.”
Buck grinned. “Only if you ask nicely.”
They set up at the first hole, The Brig. A crooked jail cell door swung back and forth in front of the hole, just slow enough to lull players into a false sense of timing. Above it, the glowing parrot screeched “Avast, landlubber!” every twenty seconds.
Tommy stepped up first, lining up his shot with practiced ease.
Buck wandered over until he was practically draped across Tommy’s back, resting his chin on Tommy’s shoulder like he had all the time in the world.
“You always this precise,” he murmured, “or are you just trying to impress me?”
Tommy didn’t look away from the ball. “I was aiming. Now I’m questioning all my life choices.”
Buck leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’re cute when you pretend you’re not flustered.”
Tommy’s hands faltered slightly on the grip. “That’s rich coming from the guy trying to seduce me during mini putt.”
Buck straightened, already smiling like he’d won. “Not trying. Succeeding . ”
Tommy narrowed his eyes at the moving bars, inhaled through his nose, and just as he took the shot, Buck ran two fingers along the waistband of his jeans.
The ball ricocheted off the parrot pedestal and veered wildly left.
Tommy turned, face flushed, glare sharp. “You did that on purpose.”
Buck looked completely unbothered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe the parrot cursed you.”
Tommy narrowed his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Buckley.”
Buck handed him the scorecard with a smug grin. “Oh, I know . Your turn to watch me putt.”
He stepped up to the tee, bent low, very low, and wiggled his hips just enough to make Tommy audibly clear his throat.
Buck looked back over his shoulder. “Is everything okay back there?”
Tommy crossed his arms, waited until Buck was mid-swing, then said evenly, “I’m deciding whether to throw you in the brig…or just bend you over the cannon at hole three.”
Buck missed the putt by a mile.
Tommy smirked. “Game on.”
The game continued like that, full of laughter, competitive banter, and flirtation that teetered on the edge of something dangerous. By the time they reached the third hole, Cannon Run, they were both in full performance mode, trying to outdo each other not just with their mini putt skills, but with a steady stream of flirtatious puns meant to throw the other off. Every shot was an opportunity. Every smirk was a challenge.
At Skeleton Shore, where the course wound across rope bridges and between glow-in-the-dark bones posed in questionably erotic positions, Buck kept brushing past Tommy’s ass. The third time earned him a sharp glare.
Buck just offered a smile. “Tight quarters.”
“Menace,” Tommy muttered.
As Buck lined up his shot, he glanced back, utterly casual. “One stroke or two, what’s your preference?”
Tommy groaned. “You’re trying to kill me.”
The ball rolled in clean.
Hole in one.
Buck straightened slowly, looking over his shoulder. “I’ve always been good at hitting the hole on the first try.”
Tommy stared, visibly torn between exasperation and arousal. “Unbelievable.”
Buck winked. “And yet, you can’t deny it.”
When they reached the sixth hole, Captain’s Quarters, Tommy had had enough. As he lined up first, Buck leaned against the wall, arms folded, still riding the high from his last hole-in-one. “You nervous?”
Tommy didn’t answer right away. He adjusted his grip. Bent slightly at the waist.
Buck whistled low. “You always did have a firm grip.”
Tommy glanced over his shoulder with a slow, dangerous smile. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”
Then without warning he straightened up, turned, and stalked toward Buck, putter still in hand.
Buck blinked. “Uh—”
Tommy backed him up against the faux wood-panelled wall and leaned in close, voice dropping to a low rumble. “I’ve been very patient tonight. You're flirting. Teasing. Touching. All but offering me a hand job in a public, family-friendly establishment.”
Buck swallowed. “Technically, I also offered to do something creative with whipped cream.”
Tommy let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, pinning him with a look. “Exactly.”
He leaned in, lips grazing Buck’s ear. “You know what I’m good at hitting on the first try?”
Buck’s breath hitched.
Tommy’s gaze drifted slowly down the length of him, deliberate, measured, before he stepped away. He approached the tee without hesitation, swung cleanly, and didn’t even glance at the ball. His eyes never left Buck.
Hole in one.
“I always find the sweet spot,” he said, low, smug, entirely unbothered as his eyes swept over Buck, taking in the effect he was having.
Buck blinked, heat rising up his spine, brain momentarily short-circuited as vivid flashes of memory hit him, hands, mouths, breathless sounds and sharp-edged pleasure.
He knew exactly how good Tommy was at finding every one of his sweet spots.
“I remember,” he breathed.
By the time they reached the ninth hole, Ghost Galleon , Buck was losing. Badly. He blamed it on rigged animatronics and unfair angles, but even he knew better.
He lined up his shot, fumbled the putter, and cursed under his breath.
Tommy leaned casually against the ship railing, eyebrows raised. “Everything okay?”
Buck gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”
“Sure?” Tommy asked, voice laced with amusement. “You look a little...tense.”
Buck didn’t respond, eyes locked on the ball, clearly trying to will it into cooperation. But Tommy caught the muttered complaints, something about cursed pirates and cheating ramps, and couldn’t help the low laugh that escaped him.
Buck was flustered, flushed pink under the blacklight, hoodie sleeves shoved up, hair wild from frustration. He looked chaotic. And so damn good. More than that, he looked relaxed. Happy.
And God, Tommy had missed that.
Not just the flirting or the jokes. Not even the sex, though that had been incredible in ways Tommy still thought about when he couldn’t sleep.
No, what he missed most was this. The ridiculous banter. The warmth. The way Buck lit up when he wasn’t holding back, unguarded, curious, alive.
Tommy hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d seen him like this.
And he hated that he’d been the one to walk away from it.
He could still feel the panic from that night, the way it gripped his chest like a vice. Things had felt too fast. Too real. Too good. And he’d been terrified of screwing it all up. Of ruining the one thing that actually felt like it could last. So he ran.
But standing here now, watching Buck grin like an idiot while the animatronic pirate behind him shouted “Yer doomed!”, Tommy couldn’t for the life of him remember what exactly he’d been trying to protect himself from.
He wanted another shot, and tonight, Buck looked like he wanted that too.
When they got to the thirteenth hole, Sharkbait Shoals, Tommy could feel the tide turning. Buck had been trailing all night, more interested in teasing and touching than actually winning. But now? Now Buck was focused.
He wasn’t cocky or loud. No innuendos. No suggestive wiggles. Just clean, sharp shots and quiet confidence. Tommy watched him sink another two-stroke finish with unnerving precision.
“Okay,” Tommy said, leaning on his club. “Who are you and what’ve you done with Evan from twenty minutes ago?”
Buck didn’t even smirk. He just gave him a look, cool and sure. “You poked the bear.”
Tommy blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You woke him up,” Buck said, brushing past him. “Now the bear wants dessert.”
Tommy exhaled a laugh, caught somewhere between amused and thrown. The thing about Buck was that he was chaos. Energy and emotion and heat, always on the edge of something reckless. But this? This Buck, controlled, composed, still grinning but with teeth under it, this was dangerous in a whole different way.
And Tommy was not ready.
When they reached the second last hole, The Mermaid’s Revenge, Tommy went first. It wasn’t his cleanest shot. Three strokes. Too much spin on the second one.
Buck followed up with a bank shot off the clam shell, curved it around the sunken treasure chest, and tapped it right to the edge of the cup.
“Rough waters?” he said, casually, already retrieving his ball.
Tommy glared. “You've been hustling me this whole time, haven’t you?”
Buck didn’t deny it. Just offered a shrug that was somehow both smug and innocent. “Maybe I just like watching you work for it.”
Tommy felt heat bloom across his chest. He looked away, focused on the final hole just ahead, Davy Jones’ Locker, but his thoughts were swirling. Because somewhere between the swinging jail doors and the glowing bones, Buck had gotten under his skin again. Not just the way he moved or talked or flirted. But the way he was. Open. Playful. Lit up in a way Tommy hadn’t seen in too long. And damn if that didn’t gut him a little.
Because Tommy remembered what it had felt like to be the reason Buck smiled like that, and he remembered what it felt like to lose it.
Tommy was barely in the lead after Buck’s run up the past few holes.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Tommy asked, eyeing the final ramp.
Buck stepped in close behind him. Too close.
“Just waiting to see if you choke under pressure,” Buck murmured, his voice low, teasing.
Tommy rolled his eyes but didn’t move away.
Buck leaned in again, this time letting his hand rest lightly on Tommy’s hip. “Last chance to throw the game,” he whispered. “Let me win, and I promise to make dessert worth your while. Whipped cream optional.”
Tommy inhaled sharply, then gave a short laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
God, he almost let the club fall out of his hands, but instead, he pulled in a steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and blocked it out. Focus. One shot. That’s all he needed.
He swung.
The ball rolled cleanly up the ramp, spun once, twice, around the whirlpool, and dropped right into the chute.
Hole in one.
Tommy turned slowly, raised an eyebrow, and tried not to look too smug. “What were you saying about choking under pressure?”
Buck stared at the hole. Then at Tommy. Then laughed, open, genuine, warm.
Tommy stepped in close, scoreboard in hand. “Looks like I win by one.”
Buck didn’t miss a beat. He leaned in, lips just shy of brushing Tommy’s skin. “Looks like you get to claim your prize.”
“Looking forward to it.”
They lingered there a beat longer, close that Tommy could easily brush his lips against Bucks’s, but neither of them moved. The tension hummed between them, the night had been thick with it. Eventually, they stepped apart, falling back into their usual rhythm, joking about who really won, arguing over the scorecard, Buck claiming Tommy’s handwriting was suspiciously illegible.
They returned their putters, dropped their scorecard in the bucket, and wandered towards the entrance.
“I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick,” Tommy said, tipping his head toward the left. “Meet you at the car?”
Buck nodded, still smiling as he fished his phone out of his pocket as he turned to step out into the warm night.
****
It was only a few minutes later Tommy was making his way across the mostly empty lot. The game had been ridiculous, flirtation turned near-foreplay, but it had been good. Easy. He hadn’t laughed like that in months. His chest was still warm with it.
But when he spotted Buck by the car, he felt the shift in mood.
Buck stood by the passenger side, one hand braced against the doorframe, the other clenched tight around his phone. His head was bowed, brows drawn, the lines of his face taut and faraway. The glow from the screen lit him up in soft blue and shadow, but his expression.
Tommy’s stomach sank.
He approached quietly, slowly. “Hey,” he said, soft but steady.
Buck startled just slightly, but he didn’t look up right away. His voice came low and rough. “Sorry. I just, I was gonna text Bobby.”
Tommy froze, breath catching.
Buck let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what I was gonna say. Just something stupid. Like, ‘you’ll never believe this course,’ or just that I was happy. That it was a good night. And for a second, I forgot.”
Finally, he looked up. His eyes were rimmed red but dry. “I forgot he was gone.”
Tommy stepped in without hesitation. “Evan…”
“I’m sorry,” Buck said quickly, like he was trying to catch the unraveling thread. “I didn’t mean to bring our date down. We were having such a good time, and now I—”
“Hey.” Tommy said it again, firmer this time. He reached out and cupped Buck’s face, thumb brushing gently along his jaw. “You don’t have to apologize for missing someone you love.”
Buck’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact. “It just hit me out of nowhere. How could I forget?”
"Grief isn’t a line you cross or a finish you reach. It’s a tide, it pulls back for a moment and then rushes in again, sometimes when you least expect it. But having a good day doesn’t mean you’ve let go. It means you’re learning how to breathe between the waves."
“It’s okay to feel joy, Buck.” he continued. “Grief doesn’t cancel that out. It’s not a betrayal. You can laugh, love, live, and still miss him. The heart’s big enough for both.”
Buck’s breath hitched, a quiet tremble passing through him. Tommy didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.
He just watched him, shoulders tight, expression flickering between guilt and sorrow. Because grief never waited for silence. It didn’t care if the night had been perfect. It crept in anyway, soft as breath, sharp as memory. And now it was here, etched in every line of Buck’s face.
Tommy didn’t try to reason it away. Didn’t tell him to cheer up or push forward. He just let Buck lean into him, letting the ache have its place.
Buck’s voice came quiet, raw. “I haven’t felt okay in so long. And tonight, it was perfect. And the first person I wanted to share that with was Bobby.” His voice cracked. “I looked at my last message to him, and it all came rushing back. It knocked the breath out of me.”
Tommy didn’t speak. Just held the space open.
“And then,” Buck whispered, “I felt guilty. For being happy.”
That was the part that always cut the deepest, Tommy knew it. The guilt that came not from loss, but from daring to feel joy in its shadow. Tommy exhaled and stepped in closer, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into his chest. Buck didn’t resist. He folded into the embrace, forehead resting on Tommy’s shoulder, breath shaky but beginning to even out.
“You’re not doing anything wrong by feeling good. That’s the cruel trick of grief, it makes you second-guess your own healing. But this?” He brushed a hand along Buck’s arm. “This is what Bobby would’ve wanted. For you to still find nights like this.”
Buck didn’t answer right away, but he didn’t pull back either.
Tommy let the silence stretch between them, anchoring it with his steady presence. Because if there was one thing he’d learned, it was this, you don’t outrun grief. You make room for it. You let it hurt, and with time, it softens. But the scar it leaves behind? That’s not something that ever goes away and is nothing to be ashamed of. It means you loved someone enough to miss them like that.
Finally, Buck whispered, “I really wish he was here.”
“I know,” Tommy said, voice barely audible. “I do too.”
Buck let out a long breath. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Tommy smiled faintly. “Me too.”
They stood like that for a moment longer, the world quiet around them.
Then Tommy stepped back just enough to look him in the eye. “Ready to go home?”
Buck nodded slowly. “Yeah. But…” he offered a small smile, “maybe dessert first?”
****
They drove for a few minutes, windows cracked to let in the salty breeze, until Tommy pulled into the familiar lot of the little beachside ice cream shack he liked to hit after long runs. The air between them had shifted, less laughter than earlier, but no longer raw. Just quiet. Comfortable.
Tommy parked the truck and cut the engine. “You good with here?” he asked, nodding toward the tiny walk-up window strung with faded string lights and a flickering neon open sign.
Buck glanced out the window, smiled. “Yeah. This is perfect.”
They placed their orders, mint chocolate chip for Tommy and sea salt caramel for Buck, but just as they stepped away from the counter, cones in hand, a familiar voice called out behind them.
“Tommy! Fancy running into you here.”
Tommy turned, straightening instinctively. “Mac—I mean, Captain Ryan,” he corrected with a reflexive nod.
Mac laughed at the formality. “None of that. Mac is fine,” she said, stepping closer.
She stood a few paces away in a pair of faded jeans and an oversized t-shirt, her hair messily twisted into a bun instead of her usual tight ponytail. Her daughter was balanced on one hip, while her young son clutched her free hand, rainbow sherbet already melting down the side of his cup and dripping onto his wrist.
Tommy offered a polite nod. “Late-night ice cream run?”
“Bribery,” she said with a wry grin. “Some days you use whatever trick you can to get them to behave.” Then her eyes flicked to Buck, curious but not intrusive.
Tommy hesitated a beat too long, unsure how to introduce him. Thankfully, Buck stepped in smoothly, completely unfazed.
“Hi, I’m Evan. Tommy’s boyfriend.”
Tommy froze, not entirely sure he’d heard right. The word sent a warm flicker through his chest, unexpected, but not unwelcome. Still, it was a reminder that they needed to talk about them soon. Just… maybe not tonight.
Mac gave him a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Evan,” she said, then turned back to Tommy with a teasing glint. “So it was someone cute.”
Tommy’s ears went a little pink as Buck turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow asking what she meant by that, but he didn’t say anything.
“Well, we won’t keep you. It was lovely to meet you, Evan. I’ll see you next shift, Tommy.”
She gave them both a warm glance before rounding on her kids. “Alright, monkeys, bath, then bed,” she declared, to their groans of protest.
Tommy gave a small wave. “Have a goodnight, Mac.”
As they walked back toward the truck, the night calm around them again, Tommy gave Buck a sidelong look. “Boyfriend, huh?”
Buck took a slow lick of his cone. “Figured it was the easiest option. Unless you wanted me to say ‘complicated but emotionally invested romantic situation with unresolved sexual tension.’”
Tommy huffed a laugh. “You’re right, the other one does sound better.”
Buck smiled, bumping his shoulder gently. The grin lingered, hopeful. Like maybe, just maybe, “boyfriend” wasn’t so far off after all.
They made their way back to Tommy’s truck and climbed into the bed, settling side by side on the lowered tailgate with the ocean stretched out before them, dark and endless, and the night air was cool against their skin.
****
By the time Tommy pulled up to Buck’s place, both were reluctant to end the evening. The night had been everything Tommy wanted and more. It solidified what he already knew in his gut, he wanted this. He wanted Buck back, and not just as a friend, but as everything.
In all his forty years, he’d never felt like this, like someone had cracked him open and filled all the hollow spaces with light. No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to get Buck out of his system. And he was done pretending he wanted to.
He shifted the truck into park and looked over. Buck was gazing out the window, cone long gone, fingers resting casually against his thigh, his shoulders loose. Peaceful. Tommy hadn’t seen him like this in a while, and the sight of it settled something deep in his chest.
“I’ll walk you up,” Tommy said, already reaching for his seatbelt.
Buck glanced over, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Tommy said simply.
They climbed out of the truck and made their way to the front steps. The porch light cast a soft halo around them, and for a moment, neither said anything.
“I had a really good time,” Buck said quietly, hand brushing the banister.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” He hesitated. “When are you off again?”
Buck thought for a beat. “I’ve got a double tomorrow, but I’m off the day after.”
“Me too,” Tommy said. “You want to come by? Maybe around lunch? We can talk.” He paused. “Really talk.”
Buck met his eyes, and for a second, Tommy thought he might deflect. But instead, he gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
Tommy added, just before the silence could turn too heavy, “And that doesn’t count as my prize for winning. I plan to pick something special for our next date.”
Buck gave a small laugh as he relented, “Fine.”
The air around them shifted, subtle, but unmistakable, as Tommy took in Buck beneath the soft halo of the porch light. His heart beat steady but full, each pulse echoing with everything unspoken between them. He didn’t know if it was the right move. He just knew he needed to feel Buck’s lips on his.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, voice low, a little breathless, as he stepped closer.
Buck’s breath caught, but he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just nodded once, small, sure, like he’d been secretly waiting for this too.
Tommy raised a hand, fingertips brushing along Buck’s jaw, then cupping his cheek. The stubble beneath his thumb was familiar and new all at once, like rediscovering something half-remembered but deeply missed. He could feel the warmth of him, the subtle tremor just under his skin.
He leaned in slowly, letting the gravity of the moment draw them together, not rushing, like he was giving them both a chance to stop it, but Buck didn’t pull away.
Their lips met in a kiss that was soft at first, gentle, intentional. A breath held between them. Tommy closed his eyes and sank into it, into the way Buck leaned in just enough, the way their mouths moved like a memory reawakening something sacred.
Tommy’s hand slid to the back of Buck’s neck, anchoring him closer. Buck’s fingers curled in the fabric of Tommy’s shirt, pulling him in, deepening the kiss just enough to steal the air from between them.
When they finally parted, it wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t rushed. Just a slow drift apart, foreheads resting together, breath mingling in the quiet.
Tommy’s voice came first, low and aching with everything he wasn’t quite ready to say. “I really hate to say goodnight.”
Buck let out a soft laugh. “Me too.”
Tommy stepped back with visible reluctance, his hands falling to his sides. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”
Buck nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Tuesday.”
Tommy watched him go, watched the door close behind him with a soft click and a faint glow still trailing in its wake. He stood there a moment longer, the ghost of Buck’s kiss still warm on his lips, before turning back toward his truck.
He didn’t know exactly what the future held for them, what conversations would come, what healing still needed time. But he knew this much, whatever they were rebuilding, it mattered, and Tommy was going to fight for it, with everything he had.
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this one, always love to hear your thoughts! 💜
Chapter 8: Rekindled
Summary:
Even good days come with shadows. Buck is still struggling at work, still drifting but a quiet night with Tommy brings honesty, hope, and some decisions.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck’s next shift had started quietly. A fire alarm at a downtown hotel, all noise, no fire, thanks to a malfunctioning sensor in the laundry room which sent guests spilling out into the street in fluffy robes and irritated whispers, only to be met with shrugs from the 118. Later, an overturned SUV off La Brea where the driver had already crawled out by the time they arrived, dazed but miraculously intact.
It was the kind of shift that looked easy on paper, low stakes, minimal injuries, but it left too much space for thoughts to creep in, and Buck had been doing a lot of that lately.
It had been almost a week since he told Chimney he was staying. One week of steady, deliberate choices, showing up, following orders, keeping his head down. Of reminding himself, sometimes more than once a day, that this was where he was supposed to be. That staying meant something. That he wasn’t just stuck, he was committed.
But that didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in at the edges.
He still caught the shift in Hen’s tone sometimes. The sideways glances from Chimney when things didn’t go according to plan. Like they were watching for the other shoe to drop. Like they were still waiting for the old Buck, the reckless one, the immature one. In some ways he understood, but in others… he hadn’t been that Buck for a very long time.
Now, with the sun sinking low behind the station, everything had settled into that familiar early evening rhythm. Buck sat on the back bumper of the engine, turnout jacket tossed beside him, boots planted wide. The air still held the sting of heat from earlier, but the breeze had started to cool.
Ravi dropped onto the bumper beside him wordlessly, offering a bottle of water already sweating through the plastic.
Buck took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”
They drank in silence for a moment, then Ravi asked, “You think it’s going to be weird when Eddie comes back?”
Buck blinked, caught off guard not by the question itself, but by how gently it was asked. He’d been wondering the same thing, but hadn’t said it out loud.
“I don’t know,” he said, twisting the cap. “Probably.”
Ravi nodded slowly, eyes fixed on something in the distance. “You two haven’t really talked much.”
“Not really,” Buck said, his voice a little rough. “Not since he left again.”
The silence between them had grown heavy, sharp-edged. He didn’t know how to pick it up without cutting himself open.
“It’s complicated,” he added, because it was easier than explaining everything.
Ravi didn’t press, just leaned back on his palms. “You think you two will be okay?”
Buck let out a slow breath. The question was simple. The answer wasn’t.
“I hope so,” he said. “But…Eddie’s got a lot of anger right now. And it feels like he’s aiming most of it at me.”
He didn’t say he understood why. He didn’t say he was trying not to take it personally. He didn’t say that sometimes, even now, Eddie’s words from that night, you make everything about you, still echoed louder than anything else.
Instead, he let the quiet stretch between them again. The sun was almost gone now, the sky shifting from gold to ash, shadows growing long across the pavement. A breeze picked up, tugging at the edges of Buck’s sleeves. They had about two hours left on shift, and Buck was counting down every minute now.
He was both excited and nervous for tomorrow, the talk with Tommy. He had so much to say, and yet didn’t know what to say at the same time. Their date over the weekend had been perfect, and they’d spent the past few days texting every chance they got. It reminded him of the first few weeks they’d started dating the first time, only this time, the stakes were higher.
Ravi shifted beside him, the scrape of his boot against concrete the only sound for a beat before he spoke again, a little tentative, but not uncertain.
“So… is Eddie moving back into his place when he gets home?”
Buck glanced over, surprised for a second, but only because Ravi had waited this long to ask.
“That’s the plan, anyway,” he said after a beat, not adding that they hadn’t really talked about it.
Ravi nodded slowly. “You gonna stay there with him and Chris?”
Buck looked down at his hands, thumbs pressing into the ridges of the water bottle.
“No,” he said. “I’ve been looking,” he added, quieter this time. “For a place. Something close to the station… or maybe closer to…”
He trailed off before he could say Tommy’s name.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ravi, if anything, Ravi would probably be the first to offer a smile and a quiet good for you. But it still felt new. Fragile. Like something he wanted to protect. To hold close a little while longer before letting the world in.
“Find anything yet?” Ravi asked, ignoring the unfinished thought.
Buck gave a small shrug. “A few places. Nothing that feels right yet.”
He paused, then added, “I don’t want to rush it. But I also don’t have a lot of time.”
“You think he wouldn’t let you stay there until you found a place?”
Buck hesitated.
“I think… things with Eddie are still messy. We haven’t really talked about any of it. He’s angry. And I get it, I do. But it’s hard, living in that space. Feeling like we’re both holding our breath all the time.”
Ravi nodded again, quiet, thoughtful. “That doesn’t sound easy.”
“It’s not.”
Buck let the words hang in the air. He didn’t usually say this kind of stuff out loud, not to the team, not even to Maddie. But Ravi had this way about him. Calm and steady. Like he wasn’t waiting for Buck to fall apart, just willing to sit with him while he figured it out.
“I think part of me hoped that staying, choosing to stay, would make things easier. Like it would fix everything. But now I’m just… waiting for it to feel like I made the right decision.”
Ravi didn’t answer right away. Maybe because he knew he couldn’t, only Buck could decide if the choice he made was the right one.
But after a moment, he said, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed.”
Buck swallowed, throat tight. He didn’t say anything back, what could he say? ‘ Thanks’ didn’t feel like enough and ‘ Me too’ felt like a lie some days.
After a long moment, he stood, stretching out his legs. “C’mon,” he said. “If we don’t get up there soon, Chim’s gonna pretend he forgot to save us any pizza.”
Ravi grinned and stood too, falling into step beside him.
The smell of garlic hit them before they even reached the kitchen. The table had a few pizza boxes spread open, paper plates stacked at one end, Chimney halfway through a story, gesturing with half a breadstick like it was part of the punchline.
“…and then the guy looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘But that’s not my snake.’ Like he was the one who was surprised to find it in his toilet.”
Hen snorted from her seat, hand over her mouth to keep from choking on a bite. “You can’t make this stuff up.”
“Wish I had,” Chim said, dropping into his chair. “I had to call animal control from the shower because I wasn’t going near that thing again.”
Ravi let out a laugh as he grabbed a plate. “How did it even get in there?”
“I don’t ask questions I don’t want the answers to,” Chimney said. “Besides, I’ve already seen enough disturbed plumbing for one career.”
Buck gave a small huff of amusement as he moved toward the table, but didn’t add anything. He grabbed a slice from the half-empty box in the middle and drifted over to the couch instead, close enough to stay part of the conversation if he wanted to, far enough to pretend he was just watching whatever was on TV.
It was familiar, this, the rhythm of dinner after a long shift, even if it wasn’t quite the same. The noise. The way everyone talked over each other. Ravi’s dry asides. Chim’s dramatics. Hen anchoring the chaos with her usual deadpan observations. There was comfort in it. Or there used to be.
But Buck couldn’t help his eyes veering toward the stairs, just for a second, without thinking, expecting to hear Bobby’s boots coming up them, his voice cutting through the chatter with a dry comment or a gentle nudge back to focus. But the sounds never came, and every time the silence held, his heart ached.
He didn’t know how to do this, be in this space without Bobby. He knew how to be a firefighter; he could go through the motions without incident. But now, the actions felt hollow. Mechanical. The spark that used to drive him, the sense of purpose, the pride, it was faded, and what scared him was the thought that maybe it wouldn’t come back.
He gave a casual glance around the loft, taking in his teammates. The people he still considered family. And yet, somehow, he felt more alone than ever.
The distance hurt. But what stung more was wondering if he was the only one who felt it.
Chimney and Hen still moved in sync, years of shared history woven into every glance, every quip. Watching them now, he didn’t see any cracks. No hesitation. Not like the awkward, careful quiet he felt when they looked at him. He wanted to fix it, to say something, anything, but he didn’t know where to start. And right now, he didn’t have the energy to try.
Part of him was glad he’d decided to stay. If he’d left, the guilt would have gnawed at him, the thought that he hadn’t done everything he could to be there for the team. But still, he couldn’t shake the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind.
Was his time at the 118 coming to an end?
Bobby had told him the team would need him. That he’d be okay. But the past few weeks had proven the opposite, the team was doing just fine without him.
And Buck? He was very much not okay.
Hen nudged Chimney’s arm and turned toward the table. “Denny made the baseball team,” she said, pride tugging at the corners of her mouth. “He’s convinced he’s going to the Olympics. Or at least that he’s qualified to coach them.”
“That kid’s got range,” Ravi said, reaching for another slice. “Future Hall of Famer and motivational speaker.”
“I’m still stuck on him coaching the Olympic team,” Chimney said, grinning. “I’d pay to watch him give a pep talk.”
“You just want to borrow his speech for your morning mirror routine,” Hen teased.
“Absolutely I do.”
Laughter circled the room, easy and familiar.
The conversation shifted again, Chimney picking up the thread with an update on Maddie’s latest obsession with reorganizing the nursery. “I walked in last night and she was rearranging everything. New bins, new labels, she reorganized the entire closet by onesie length.”
Buck let it all happen around him, adding a soft chuckle here, a nod there. He was glad they were talking. Glad they had this. It just felt like he was watching it all from behind a pane of glass.
At one point, he caught Hen watching him, just a flicker, a quiet look across the table. Not probing. Just… noticing. He held her gaze for half a second before looking away.
He finished his slice, crumpled his napkin, and leaned back in his chair, letting the warm hum of conversation carry him through the rest of the meal. If anyone noticed he hadn’t said much, no one pointed it out, and they didn’t make any attempt to bring him into the conversation.
So Buck spent the rest of the shift listening to his teammates’ stories, and quietly counting down the minutes until he was back with Tommy.
****
Buck hadn’t really slept. His shift had ended the night before, but rest never followed. He’d tried, God, he’d tried, but every time his eyes drifted shut, sleep twisted itself into something jagged. The kind of nightmare that didn’t need details to leave him breathless.
He jolted awake around 3 a.m., drenched in sweat, heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to outrun whatever his mind couldn’t make sense of. The images were already slipping away, but the feeling stayed. That sickening certainty that something was wrong. Blood. Screams. Smoke choking the air. Bobby’s voice, distorted and fading, like it was coming through water, warped and unreachable. The kind of sound that made him want to run toward it and cover his ears at the same time.
His hands were still shaking when he sat up, elbows on his knees, trying to remember how to breathe.
He’d stayed like that for hours. Blankets kicked off, sheets tangled around his legs, eyes locked on the ceiling as if keeping watch could stop it from happening again. As if being awake would make it easier to forget. It didn’t.
He didn’t know why they kept coming. It had been more than a week since he’d told Chimney he was staying, since he’d started trying to put himself back together, piece by stubborn piece. He thought maybe that would help. That moving forward would put the nightmares behind him.
But they still found him. Every night. Dragging whatever progress he made back into the murky dark.
By morning, exhaustion had settled into Buck’s bones like cement. Everything felt heavier. Slower. Like he was moving through static, just trying to keep his footing while the rest of the world kept spinning.
He went through the motions anyway, shower, coffee, clean clothes, clinging to routine like it might anchor him. It didn’t. The nightmare still clung to the corners of his mind, a shadow he couldn’t shake. He drifted through the morning, scrolling through apartment listings, scribbling a to-do list of all the things he needed to get done in the next few weeks.
Mostly, he was waiting. Watching the clock. Letting the anticipation build, even though it made his chest feel tight.
Part of him wondered if he was too tired for this conversation with Tommy, too raw, too scattered. But a louder part, the one that had been aching for days, needed to see him.
So when the time came, he got in the car without hesitation. Windows down, music low, the noon sun glaring against the raw edge of his nerves. The road passed in a blur, but the closer he got, the tighter the tension curled around his chest. It wasn’t just the lingering nightmare, or the fatigue pressing behind his eyes, it was the pressure of what this could mean. All the things he hadn’t said yet, because he didn’t know how. Because maybe if he said them out loud, they’d become real. And that was terrifying.
And now he was here. At Tommy’s door. Heart stuttering in his chest like it couldn’t decide if this was hope or fear.
Because what if they’d rushed into something again? What if it was too soon, too fragile to carry the weight of everything he hadn’t figured out yet. What if Tommy looked at him today and realized it was too much?
But despite all of that… Buck had hope.
He hoped this time could be different. That what they had, could have, might be worth the risk. That history didn’t have to be a warning sign. Maybe it could be a foundation. Something solid. Something real.
He took a breath. Steadied himself.
And then he knocked.
Tommy opened the door with a soft smile, and Buck didn’t even try to hide how relieved he felt just seeing him. Before either of them said a word, Tommy reached out and pulled him into a hug, as if he, too, had been counting down the moments until they were back in the same space. Buck folded into it, eyes closing for a beat longer than necessary, hands gripping the back of Tommy’s shirt like it might hold him together just a second longer.
When they finally pulled apart, Tommy’s hands lingered at Buck’s sides, thumbs brushing lightly in quiet reassurance.
“Hey,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes scanning Buck’s face like he was trying to memorize something.
Buck offered a soft smile in return. “Hey yourself.”
Time seemed to pause around them, the world narrowing to the space between them, the quiet weight of something tender and unspoken holding them still.
Then Tommy cleared his throat gently and stepped back. “Lunch is all set,” he said, voice still warm, still soft. “I thought we could eat outside today. It’s nice out.”
Buck nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting a little more. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”
Tommy gestured toward the kitchen. “Grab a drink and come find me. I’ll meet you out back.”
Buck stepped through the kitchen, the hum of quiet comfort following him as he slid open the back door.
The backyard had changed since he was last here. A wide cedar deck stretched out from the house, still carrying the faint scent of fresh sealant and sawdust. A new seating area sat beneath a sleek pergola, cushions crisp and inviting, the table between them catching the early afternoon light.
Along the fence, the garden beds were still finding their shape, a handful of herbs, a few tomato plants, and plenty of open soil waiting for direction. But the space itself was generous. Private. Quiet. The kind of place that made it feel like the rest of the world could wait just a little while longer.
Lunch was already prepped and waiting on the patio table, nothing fancy, just grilled chicken, a fresh salad, and some roasted potatoes. Simple, exactly what Buck could stomach right now.
“You’re spoiling me,” Buck said as he sank into the chair with a sigh.
Tommy glanced over, one brow raised, lips tugging into a smile. “Please. I’ve seen what you can do with a spice rack. This is me trying not to embarrass myself.”
Buck huffed a quiet laugh. “You could never. I’ve had your spaghetti and meatballs, and one day, I will get that recipe,” he added, a teasing glint in his eye.
They started eating, quiet at first, just the clink of cutlery and a few casual observations filling the silence.
After a few bites, Tommy leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out beneath the table. “Last shift was a mess. We had a call off Venice, boat engine caught fire about a mile from the dock. Minor injuries, but the Coast Guard didn’t get there until after we already had two guys in the water trying to stabilize things.”
“Damn,” Buck said, brows knitting. “Was it bad?”
Tommy shrugged. “Could’ve been worse. Mac’s really pushing me to get cross-certified for water rescues now. Thinks it’s better if one of the pilots can hop in when needed.”
Buck smiled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “So basically, she’s realized you’ll jump headfirst into anything.”
Tommy gave him a look, all mock offense and twitching lips. “I don’t jump,” he said slowly. “I casually dip my feet in with tactical precision.”
Buck laughed. “Remind me again which one of us has the history of stealing municipal property?”
“I plead the fifth,” Tommy said without hesitation. Then, after a beat, his smirk turned knowing. “Though I do know I’m not the only one with a record.”
Buck groaned, face flushing as he dropped his fork. “Oh my god, how did you hear about that? I was hoping to keep my probie phase far away from you.”
Tommy chuckled. “Who do you think? To be fair, it was well before we started dating.”
“And you couldn’t have forgotten?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Tommy said, eyes glinting with affection.
“I hate you,” Buck teased.
Tommy took another few bites, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll admit it, I’m a little nervous about the water rescue certification.”
Buck arched an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Big, strapping man like you? Scared of a little water?”
“I’m not scared,” Tommy said quickly, then gave a sheepish smile. “Okay, maybe a little. I’m a pilot, I like being above the chaos, thank you very much.”
Buck grinned. “So no dreams of being a heroic lifeguard?”
“Only if it involves a hot rescue, all muscles and great hair.”
Buck snorted. “Wow. Should I be jealous?”
Without missing a beat, Tommy leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Well, do you have great hair?”
Buck feigned offence, running a hand through his curls. “Excuse you. My hair has been described as perfectly tousled on more than one occasion.”
“By who?” Tommy asked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Eddie’s abuela,” Buck said solemnly, then cracked a grin. “She said I looked like a telenovela heartthrob.”
Tommy laughed, full and warm. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But only because I’m now picturing you dramatically rescuing someone from the ocean in slow motion. Shirt clinging. Hair glistening.”
Buck pointed at him. “You joke, but that was almost my life path. I worked as a surf instructor for a while.”
Tommy shook his head. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”
Buck tilted his head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. It’s not that different from land rescues, just wetter.”
Tommy gave him a flat look. “Wetter is a significant difference.”
“Okay, fair,” Buck conceded with a chuckle. He reached for his drink, took a sip, then added, “I actually got my diving certification when I was training to become a SEAL.”
Tommy’s gaze sharpened with interest. “Seriously?”
Buck nodded. “Yeah. Never used it as much as I thought I would, but it was one of those things I have, just in case.”
Tommy rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped on the table, watching him. “You’re full of surprises, you know that? Every time I think I’ve got the full Evan Buckley backstory, you drop another plot twist.”
“‘Plot twist’ is generous,” Buck said with a quiet laugh. “It was mostly me trying to figure out who the hell I was back then.”
Tommy’s expression softened, but he didn’t press. Instead, he reached across the table, brushing the tip of his finger along Buck’s wrist. “Well… whoever you were back then, I’m glad he got you here.”
Buck’s throat went tight. He didn’t answer right away, just offered a soft, almost bashful smile and looked down at his plate.
The breeze stirred around them again, lifting the edges of the napkins and rustling the leaves in the still-figuring-it-out garden.
Buck set his fork down and leaned back, arms resting loosely on the arms of the chair. “It’s weird,” he said after a moment. “I used to think figuring myself out meant landing somewhere solid. Like once I made the ‘right’ choices, everything would feel…steady. Permanent. That I would finally have found my place and wouldn’t need to go searching anymore.”
Tommy didn’t say anything right away, just gave him his full attention, the kind of silence that invited Buck to keep going, if he wanted.
Buck let out a quiet breath. “But lately, I don’t know. It feels like everything I thought I had figured out just keeps… shifting. Like I’m chasing something that won’t stay still. And I’m back at square one, trying to hold on to anything that feels real before it slips away.”
Tommy watched him, quiet for a long moment. Then, gently, “What are you trying to hold on to?”
Buck looked down at his hands for a beat, then back at Tommy. “Us,” he said softly. “This.” he paused, “The 118. Everything.”
The weight of it hung there. A quiet confession from someone trying to hold it together.
Then Tommy leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, voice quiet but steady. “I don’t think figuring yourself out means you stop searching,” he said. “I think it means you let yourself grow. Let things change. And maybe… you find people who make the searching feel less lonely.”
Buck looked up, eyes meeting Tommy’s, and something unspoken passed between them warm and hesitant and real.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I want that. Someone who doesn’t expect me to have all the answers. Just… someone who stays.”
Tommy’s gaze didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, steady as ever. “I’m here, Buck.”
There was a beat, barely a breath, before Buck’s voice cracked through the quiet.
“But you left,” he said, softer than before. “You walked out. And you broke my heart.”
The words didn’t come out angry. They weren’t sharp. Just tired. Honest. Like they’d been sitting inside him for a long time, waiting for the right moment to surface.
Tommy didn’t flinch, but something shifted in his eyes. Something Buck couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Or understanding. Or both.
Tommy didn’t look away. His hands stayed where they were, open on the table, unmoving, but there was something in his expression that shifted. Less guarded. More exposed.
“I know,” he said, voice quiet but sure. “I know I did.”
Buck didn’t respond right away. The weight of his own words still sat heavy between them, and he wasn’t sure if he was bracing for impact or hoping for a soft landing.
Tommy continued, “I was scared, Evan. Not of you, not really, but of what we were becoming. How fast it was all happening. You were all in, and I wanted to be… I really did. But I couldn’t keep up with you. It was full-throttle. Blinding.”
He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching, not quite a smile. More like a wince softened by affection.
“And I kept asking myself… what if I couldn’t give you what you needed ? What if I wasn’t enough?” He swallowed, hard. “You were still figuring yourself out. And I…I didn’t want to be some phase. Some story you’d look back on like a footnote to a bigger truth.”
Buck’s breath caught. Not because it was unexpected, part of him had wondered the same, over and over. But hearing Tommy say it out loud made something in him ache.
“I wasn’t figuring myself out with you,” Buck said, voice low. “I mean, yeah, I was learning things about myself. About who I am, what I want. But none of that made what we had less real. You weren’t a test run.”
Tommy blinked, eyes shining faintly now in the soft afternoon light. “Then why did it feel like I was always holding my breath? Like I was just waiting for you to change your mind. Or realize you wanted something else, someone else.”
Buck’s hand found its way across the table, tentative at first, until his fingers brushed against Tommy’s. “Because I didn’t know how to slow down,” he admitted. “And we suck at communicating,” he laughed, low and sad. “I got ahead of myself. I didn’t mean to scare you, but I did. I saw this—” he motioned gently between them, “—and I wanted it so badly I didn’t stop to ask if we were building it on solid ground. I pushed. And when you pulled away… it felt like I’d messed it all up.”
Tommy didn’t flinch. Just quietly turned his palm, lacing their fingers together, slow, deliberate, like his touch could express all the words he couldn’t. Buck’s breath caught a little.
“You didn’t mess it up,” Tommy said, his voice a thread of sound. Soft, but steady. “I did. I walked away. I shut down instead of talking things through with you. I have never regretted anything more than walking out the door that day.”
Buck’s thumb moved in a slow circle across the back of Tommy’s hand, a grounding rhythm he didn’t realise he needed. The silence between them filled up, not empty, but weighted. Buck could feel it pressing into all the hollow spaces he’d tried to ignore.
“I get it,” he said eventually, voice low. “I do. You were scared. So was I. In a lot of ways, you were my first real… everything. I didn’t even know what I was reaching for until I already had it, until I had you. And then I decided to go full Buck and jump ten steps ahead, thinking that if I didn’t stop to think about it, I’d be less scared.”
He glanced up, and caught the way Tommy was looking at him, steady, unflinching, like he was trying to see straight through the mess and into whatever truth Buck was still afraid to admit.
“So we were both terrified and pretending we weren’t,” Tommy said.
Buck managed a small, crooked smile. “Exactly. Two emotionally constipated idiots in love.”
That pulled a laugh out of Tommy, brief, but real, and it knocked something loose in Buck’s chest. Something that had been wound too tight for too long.
“We were in love, weren’t we?” Tommy asked after a moment, softer now.
Buck’s gaze dropped, then lifted again. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “At least I was.”
Tommy’s eyes flickered, and Buck could see the words settle somewhere deep inside him. No deflection. No denial. Just that raw, unguarded stillness between them.
“Was?”
“Still am.”
They sat like that for a moment, hands tangled together like they were the only thing keeping Buck tethered. His heart thudded a little too loudly in his chest, and he was suddenly, acutely aware of how much of himself he’d laid bare on that table.
Buck’s voice dropped, rough around the edges. “I’ve spent so long looking for something that felt like home. Trying to be what everyone needed. Fix what I couldn’t save. But with you…” He shook his head, trying to keep the words from cracking. “You never asked me to be anything but myself. And I think that scared me just as much as it comforted me.”
Tommy leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching. And Buck let him, let the closeness sink in, warm and real and terrifying.
“Maybe we both need to stop running from things that feel right,” Tommy said gently. “Even if they don’t come easy.”
Buck let the words wash over him, quiet and careful, like they were being carved into him slowly. “I want to believe we could get it right this time,” he said, and his voice didn’t quite steady. “But I don’t know what that looks like yet. I’m still… unraveling. Still figuring out how to be okay again. And I don’t want to put that weight on you.”
Tommy shook his head, gaze impossibly kind. “You’re not. We carry it together. If we’re going to do this, it’s not about you being okay first. It’s about being honest. About not shutting each other out.”
Buck blinked hard. The words landed somewhere deep. Maybe because they didn’t ask anything of him but the truth.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he whispered.
“I don’t want that either,” Tommy said simply. “But we have to go slow this time. No skipping steps. No holding back, either. If we’re scared, we say it. If we’re not ready, we admit it. And if we fall again… we fall together.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. Just let the promise sink in, thread by thread, into all the places grief had hollowed out inside him. It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t a fairy tale. But it was something. Steady. Real.
And right now, that was more than enough.
He nodded, forehead brushing lightly against Tommy’s. “Okay,” he said softly. “Slow. Honest. Together.”
“Together,” Tommy echoed.
Notes:
Thank you so much for everyone who liked and commented on the last chapter! So glad you enjoyed their fun date night! Was so fun to write! Buck and Tommy finally have their talk (had to break this into two parts as it was loooong!) Hope you enjoy this one and always love to hear what you think! xo
Chapter 9: Heat Signatures
Summary:
Tommy’s world begins to shift with a captain’s faith in his potential, friendships that root him, and the slow, steady return of love that feels like home.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy took a moment to let their words wash over him. They hadn’t pulled any punches, not with the honesty about what had gone wrong the first time, or the fear that still lingered between them. And he was grateful for it. For the vulnerability. For the space to be real with each other.
He knew he’d hurt Buck, not through one sharp, shattering mistake, but in the slow, quiet erosion that came with pulling away when things got hard. He hadn’t meant to leave, not really, but he had. And Buck, who carried every goodbye like a fresh bruise, had felt that absence in a way Tommy was only just beginning to understand.
He’d become one more person who didn’t stay.
And now, Tommy knew that words wouldn’t be enough. Not this time. If Buck was willing to let him back in, it would be on faith, fragile, hard-earned, and easily shaken. And Tommy owed it to him to prove, again and again, that he meant it this time. That when things got messy, he’d still be there.
He drew in a steady breath, grounding himself in the weight and warmth of Buck’s hand in his, thumb tracing slow, quiet circles against skin he hadn’t let himself miss for far too long.
“So…” he said, voice soft but sure. “What happens now?”
Buck didn’t answer right away.
His fingers curled slightly under Tommy’s, like he was holding on, but still bracing. His eyes drifted, not closed off, just… searching. Like he was turning over every version of this moment that could go wrong before daring to believe in the one that might go right.
Finally, Buck looked up. “I don’t want to go backwards,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to pretend like none of it happened. It did. We hurt each other. But we’re here now, and I want…” He trailed off, jaw flexing as he swallowed hard. “I want this. You. Us. All of it.”
The words didn’t crash into Tommy, they anchored him.
“I want that too,” he said, voice thick. Then, gentler, “And what does ‘us’ look like to you?”
Buck’s mouth curved into the softest smile. “Kind of like what we’ve been doing. Spending time together. Getting to know each other again.” He hesitated. “So maybe we keep doing that, but more. More time. More of us. Even if it’s just a little at a time.” A pause. “And maybe I can start calling you my boyfriend again?”
The question was shy and hopeful, like it still carried weight. Like the answer still had the power to shake him.
Tommy let out a quiet laugh, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’d really like that. I want to be your boyfriend again.” He reached out, fingers brushing gently along Buck’s jaw. “More than that… I want to be your partner. For the good. For the hard. For the quiet, boring, everyday stuff. I want all of it. So yes, I want to spend as much time with you as you’ll let me.”
He exhaled slowly, gaze steady. “I know things are tough. But I want to be your safe space. Just like I want you to be mine.”
Buck leaned in, forehead resting gently against his. And something inside Tommy, something tight and coiled for far too long, finally began to ease.
“I want that too,” Buck murmured. “I know where I want this to go, Tommy.”
“Me too,” Tommy whispered. And then he closed the distance between them.
His lips brushed Buck’s, tentative at first, more question than promise. But Buck answered without hesitation, and the space between them disappeared like it had never been there.
The kiss deepened with quiet urgency. Not rushed, but hungry, for closeness, for forgiveness, for the ache of time lost and the fragile hope of something real taking its place. Buck’s hand found Tommy’s jaw, fingers curling with purpose, and Tommy breathed him in like air after a storm, like he’d been holding his breath for months and had finally remembered how to let go.
There was nothing tentative about it now.
Tommy didn’t know who moved first, only that suddenly they were shifting together toward one of the loungers, the urgency between them growing with every breath. Buck hit the cushions with a soft thud, and Tommy followed, pushing him back and climbing over him, not breaking contact. Buck’s fingers slid into his hair. Tommy’s hand found the back of Buck’s neck, anchoring them, pulling them impossibly close.
The world narrowed to breath and skin and the stuttering rhythm of heartbeats trying to match each other’s pace.
They only broke apart because they had to breathe. Their foreheads pressed together, both of them panting, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with something they hadn’t named aloud yet, but felt like everything.
Tommy didn’t move at first. Just hovered there, chest to chest, breath caught in Buck’s breath, his own pulse echoing in his ears. Buck’s lips were swollen, his eyes glassy and dark with want, locked on Tommy like he was the only thing that existed.
Then Buck shifted, just enough, hips lifting slightly, deliberately, and the spark already crackling between them turned to flame.
That was all it took.
Their mouths collided again, messier this time, wetter and hotter and utterly wrecked. Buck gripped Tommy’s hair tight enough to make him groan, hips lifting in a slow, needy grind. Tommy swallowed the sound like it was the only thing that could fill him.
His hands roamed down Buck’s jaw, over his chest, pausing at the curve of his waist before skimming lower, where the heat between them pulsed and begged. He was on fire for him, because of him, and there was no part of this that felt unsure.
Buck gasped against his mouth, hands fisting in Tommy’s shirt, tugging it up just far enough to slide his palms beneath and press against bare skin. “God,” he whispered, voice hoarse and reverent. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Tommy let out a ragged breath, his mouth grazing the corner of Buck’s as he murmured, “Pretty sure I do.” Then he rocked down again, slow and deliberate, and Buck’s head fell back with a groan that sent a shudder through Tommy’s whole body.
They moved together in a rhythm as natural as breathing, as reckless as falling, hips rolling, mouths colliding, hands tugging and exploring and needing. It was clumsy in places, overwhelming in others. Months of restraint falling away like armour they didn’t need anymore. They chased friction and heat and closeness like it was the only thing keeping them alive.
Tommy could feel Buck trembling beneath him, could feel his own body tightening with every pass, every gasp. He pressed his lips to the underside of Buck’s jaw, then to the hollow of his throat, just to feel him fall apart a little more.
But then he stilled, chest heaving, forehead dropping to Buck’s shoulder with a groan that was half frustration, half helpless laughter.
“Shit,” he breathed. “This isn’t exactly what I meant by taking it slow.”
Buck let out a choked, breathless laugh, arms still tight around his waist. “Yeah, well… maybe we need to define slow next time.”
Tommy lifted his head, just enough to meet his eyes, both of them flushed and panting, hair mussed, lips swollen. Ruined. And God, he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“I think I blacked out for a second,” he said, voice still rough around the edges.
“You and me both.”
They were still tangled together, bodies pressed close, heat simmering just beneath the surface. Tommy leaned in to brush a kiss to Buck’s temple, then stayed there, their bodies still, their hearts anything but.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, words meant only for him. “One slow, completely-un-slow step at a time.”
Buck nodded, holding him close like he didn’t plan to let go.
****
The sun was still low in the sky when Tommy jogged across the cracked pavement of the rec centre lot, gym bag slung over one shoulder and a water bottle tucked under his arm. He could already hear the thump of a basketball echoing off the court, the sharp squeak of sneakers pivoting, and someone shouting for a pass.
“Look who decided to show up early for once,” Jackson called out, already glistening with sweat and grinning like he’d just won the league.
“I said I’d be here by seven,” Tommy replied, tossing his bag down by the fence and shrugging off his sweatshirt. “It’s not my fault your definition of ‘on time’ includes a twenty-minute warm-up monologue.”
That earned a round of laughter from the others. They weren’t a big pick-up team, with only Jackson from the 136, Mel from the 101, and Kai from the rescue side of the 217 joining him when they could get their shifts to align. They’d been playing pickup together for a few months now, ever since Tommy had stopped joining the old games with Eddie after the breakup with Buck. Things had felt too raw back then. Too uncertain. But this group? It was easy. No history. No expectations. Just trash talk, sweat, and an hour of forgetting everything else.
“Damn, look at him,” Mel said, shielding her eyes like she needed help seeing. “Hair’s still damp, no bags under the eyes… smiling. You hook up with someone, or find a secret stash of energy drinks?”
Tommy rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite stop the grin pulling at his mouth. “Just had a good day yesterday.”
“A good day,” Jackson repeated, drawing out the words like they needed further investigation. “That’s not ‘nice weather’ good. That’s someone-else’s-hands-in-your-hair good.”
Kai held up both palms. “Hey, hey…I don’t need the visuals, man. Let the guy keep his secrets.”
“Oh, you don’t need the visuals,” Mel scoffed. “I want details.”
The ball bounced Tommy’s way, and he caught it effortlessly. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he sent it arcing from the key. Nothing but net.
“No comment,” he said, smug as hell.
“You know it’s rude not to share with your friends,” Jackson called, jogging over to grab the ball.
They fell into rhythm after that, fast breaks, quick passes, trash talk lobbed as easily as threes. Tommy could feel it in his body, the muscle memory kicking in, his shoulders looser than they’d been in months. His heart lighter. Like some knot inside him had finally started to unwind.
Somewhere between the fourth assist and a stolen pass, he caught himself smiling again. He thought of Buck’s laugh against his skin, the way their bodies had found each other like no time had passed, like everything they’d been afraid of had already been forgiven. The way the afternoon sun had slanted across Buck’s face while they’d stayed wrapped around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He barely noticed Mel jogging past until she bumped him with her hip. “You gonna keep zoning out or actually play some defence?”
“Right, sorry,” Tommy said, blinking back to the present.
But the warmth didn’t fade. Not even a little. It curled in his chest and stayed there, as steady as breath.
They played for another twenty minutes, the game a little looser now, more banter than hustle. Mel hit a long three-pointer and strutted back like she was on a runway. Jackson kept calling fouls that no one acknowledged. Kai attempted a behind-the-back pass that hit the fence and earned a round of groans. Tommy didn’t keep score, he didn’t need to. The win was in the laughter, in the sting of sweat in his eyes, in the simple fact that his body felt good, his chest felt full, and his mind wasn’t caught in loops of what-ifs anymore.
Eventually, they called it. Shoes scuffed to a stop, everyone collapsing in various heaps near the bench and chain-link fence. The air had warmed, the city humming to life just beyond the trees, sirens faint in the distance. Someone cracked open a cooler, passed around water bottles.
Tommy dropped onto the pavement with a quiet grunt, wiping the back of his neck with the edge of his t-shirt. His chest still rose and fell from the last sprint, but it was a good kind of tired, a clean burn.
Jackson settled beside him, nudging his knee. “Okay, spill,” he murmured low, under the sound of the others bickering over who actually won. “I know that look. That’s not just ‘I slept more than four hours’ energy. That’s you got a 'happy ending' energy.”
Tommy let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You’re worse than Mel.”
“Mel just says it louder.”
He hesitated, eyes on the court, then said quietly, “I saw Evan yesterday.”
Jackson’s brows lifted. “The Evan...Buck, Evan?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah. We… talked. More than talked, actually. It’s… different now. We’re figuring it out.”
Jackson didn’t tease. He just bumped Tommy’s shoulder again, solid and sincere. “Good,” he said. “I always kinda hoped you two would get your shit together.”
Before Tommy could reply, Mel called out from a few feet away, clearly having eavesdropped. “Knew it! That grin wasn’t just from a good night’s sleep.”
“Wait…Evan? Evan Buckley ?” Kai chimed in, twisting the cap off his water. “Are we talking about that Evan? Blond, chaotic, like six feet of golden retriever energy in turnout gear?”
Tommy groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “This is why I don’t tell you people things.”
“Don’t worry,” Mel said, smiling. “We’re happy for you. Just saying…bring him to a game sometime. We don’t bite.”
“Hard no,” Tommy said immediately, pointing at her. “Evan’s not allowed within ten feet of a basketball court.”
Kai barked a laugh. “Why? He that bad?”
“He can play,” Tommy said, “he just gets a little too competitive. There may or may not have been a trip to the ER the last time.”
“Okay, now I really have to see this.”
“Not happening,” Tommy said, grinning despite himself. “I like my ankles intact.”
“Alright, fine,” Mel conceded. “But you are bringing him out for drinks. Soon. I need to put a face to the man who’s got you walking around like you just won the lottery.”
Tommy rolled his eyes but laughed. “I’ll ask. No promises.”
He glanced at his watch, then stood with a stretch and a wince. “Alright, I’ve gotta shower and head to shift. You guys keep your egos in check till next week, yeah?”
“Bring Buck!” Jackson called after him.
“Bring snacks!” Mel added.
“Bring ankle braces if you bring Buck,” Kai snickered.
Tommy just waved them off as he headed for the lot, still smiling.
It had taken him a long time to let people in again. Too long, maybe. He’d spent so much of his life playing it close to the chest, keeping friendships surface-level, emotions tightly controlled, never letting himself get too comfortable. It hadn’t been entirely conscious. More like survival instinct. But even now, it surprised him how much lighter life felt when he stopped holding himself back.
And not just with Buck.
He liked the people in his life now. He liked the version of himself that showed up for them.
The crew at the 217 weren’t quite the tight-knit family the 118 had been, but there was camaraderie there. After-shift beers. Dumb inside jokes. A steady rhythm of respect and trust, even if no one got too deep. It worked.
Then there was this crew, a mash-up of personalities, drawn together by a love of the game and mutual chaos. And his trivia team, who somehow made Wednesday nights feel like the best kind of tradition. And the guys from his muay thai gym, who didn’t care what shift he worked or what rank he held, just that he showed up, gloves on, ready to spar or sweat or laugh through drills that left everyone sore for days.
Different circles. Different anchors. And for the first time in a long time, Tommy didn’t feel like he was drifting.
For a long time, he hadn’t realised how much he needed this…community without obligation. Friendship without history pressing down on it. People who showed up because they wanted to.
He slung his gym bag over his shoulder as the early morning sun warmed the side of his face. Yeah he was still figuring things out. With Buck. With himself. But today, he was in a damn good mood.
****
The first half of his shift passed in a blur of movement and sun. By mid-morning, Tommy and Mila were called out on a rapid-response airlift, a hiker with a fractured pelvis stranded on a rocky outcrop. The terrain was steep, the updrafts sharp and temperamental, but Tommy had handled worse. Mila was newer to flight medevac, but she followed his cues well, eyes sharp beneath her visor as they hovered above the canyon floor.
Tommy instructed her how to lower the winch in steady increments, radio chatter ticking calmly in his ear, the landscape tilting gently beneath him as he kept the helicopter steady. He always felt clearest in the air, no distractions, no crowd noise, just instinct and rhythm and trust in the team around him. By the time they had the patient loaded and were inbound for the hospital, the wind had shifted, but they were already on their way.
Back at the station, after cleanup and restock, the tempo slowed. Tommy showered, changed into a clean uniform, and settled into the breakroom with a fresh cup of coffee and a thick binder cracked open across his lap, all the materials he’d need to get up to speed on the certifications Mac wanted him to knock out over the next few weeks. It was a lot, but he didn’t mind the pressure. The structure helped.
Studying kept his brain busy, kept it from drifting too far into the places it liked to spiral when things went too quiet for too long. Here, between protocols and procedures, he found focus. A kind of calm. Something he could control.
He flipped to a section on marine trauma protocols and underlined a line about cold-water shock response, the faint hum of voices in the hallway grounding him in the familiar rhythm of station life. A normal day. A good day.
As the station buzzed lightly with early afternoon rhythm, dispatch calls flaring and fading, boots echoing in the hallway, the distant roar of an engine heading out, Tommy worked through the different sections of his binder. He was mid-sentence in a side note about puncture resistance when he heard someone approaching.
Mac leaned casually against the edge of the table, coffee in hand, a familiar glint in her eyes. “Studying on shift?” she asked, one brow arched.
Tommy glanced up and shrugged, tapping the binder. “Figured I’d make good use of the downtime. Never know how long it’ll last.”
“Smart.” Mac took a sip, then nodded toward the binder. “Mitchel says you’re tracking ahead on the coursework.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, leaning back slightly. “I figured I’d try to knock out the theory while I can. I’ve wrapped the air rescue certification, so now it’s the diving modules and water rescue, plus some of the advanced land ops. I’ve got a joint drill with LACo in two weeks, and I’d rather not be the guy slowing everyone down.”
Mac smiled. “That’s actually part of what I came to talk to you about.”
Tommy blinked, then closed the binder carefully. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been reviewing team rotations,” Mac said, tone shifting slightly, still casual, but edged with the kind of authority that made people listen. “And I want you to start shadowing the rescue team on a few of their next shifts.”
Tommy’s eyes widened slightly. “With the rescue side directly?”
Mac nodded. “Already cleared it with Mitchel. Consider it a development push. You already know you’re an expert in the sky. I want you on the ground side more. Full picture. That’s the direction the units are headed.”
He couldn’t help the way his chest lifted at that, the way a quiet thread of excitement ran under his skin. “That sounds… great. I’d really like that.”
“I know,” Mac said, smiling. “That’s why I asked.”
There was a beat of silence, “It was a small world running into you and your boyfriend the other night,” Mac said, a wry smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “But more than that, it was nice to see a smile on your face. That’s been pretty scarce around here since I started.”
Tommy glanced down at the rim of his coffee, thumb tracing the curve of the mug. Then he looked back up. “Yeah… Evan and I, we’ve been talking again. Things ended badly for a while, but we’re finding our way back. It’s been good.”
Mac nodded, soft and steady. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s rare to get a second chance these days.”
Tommy swallowed. “I didn’t think we’d get here. Especially after the last few months. He’s… he’s been going through it since Bobby died.”
Mac’s expression shifted, something stilling behind her eyes. She tilted her head slightly. “Evan Buckley?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said, blinking. “You know him?”
Mac let out a slow breath, her gaze distant now. “I knew Bobby. Captain Nash.”
Tommy stilled.
“We weren’t close-close,” she clarified. “But we were friends. Fellow captains. We crossed paths over the years, and every now and then we’d grab coffee. He was one of the few people who made me feel like I didn’t have to pretend I had it all handled.”
She looked away for a moment, eyes unfocused. “After my husband passed, and it was just me and the kids…Bobby helped me find a way through it. Helped me understand what it meant to keep going, even when you felt left behind.”
Her voice wasn’t shaky, but it was quieter.
“He told me about his life in Minnesota. What brought him to LA. The fire, the grief, rebuilding after the wreckage. He didn’t sugarcoat it. Didn’t act like he had all the answers. But he knew how to listen. And somehow, talking to him made the weight feel… less lonely.”
Tommy’s chest tightened. He hadn’t known that. Hadn’t expected this particular connection. “He was… a good man.”
“The best,” Mac said. “And he talked about Buck often. Always with this quiet pride. Said the kid had a good heart, more potential than he knew what to do with, and hands that belonged in fire and rescue.”
Tommy felt something settle in his chest, a quiet, anchoring pride for Buck. Hearing how proud Bobby had been of him, proud enough to share it with his peers, stirred something deep. Bobby had seen Buck, not just as a firefighter, but as a person, as someone he cared deeply for in all the ways Buck had always longed to be seen. No conditions. No caveats. Just belief, spoken aloud when Buck wasn’t in the room to hear it.
“We talked about his future,” Mac added, voice low. “About leadership. About what came next.”
Tommy nodded slowly. “He’s been questioning everything lately. Bobby’s death hit him hard. I think he’s still figuring out where he stands, with the 118, with himself.”
Mac gave a small, knowing smile. “Not surprising. When Bobby and I last spoke, just before I let the Chief know I was ready to come back, he was wondering if Buck was ready for his next challenge.”
Tommy’s brow furrowed, caught between surprise and something heavier.
“He didn’t want him to leave the 118,” Mac continued, “but he didn’t want to hold him back either.”
They fell quiet.
Bobby had seen a future for Buck. More for him, and Buck had no idea. He didn’t know what to do with that information, but he knew at the moment Buck wasn’t ready to hear it. He was still wrestling with his decision to stay at the 118, and Tommy knew Buck sometimes needed to put his all into something before he was ready to course correct. So Tommy stayed quiet and let Buck work through what he needed to when it came to the 118.
“I don’t think he knows any of that,” Tommy said finally, voice low. “That Bobby had a plan for him. That he believed in him like that.”
“Maybe not,” Mac said softly. “But I think he felt it. They had a bond. Sometimes the words don’t have to be said out loud for the meaning to get through. Especially between people like them.”
Tommy looked down at the table, then back up, the words catching before they fully formed. “He’s so lost right now. Trying to carry everything, the grief, the guilt, the team, like it’s all his responsibility. And the 118… they don’t really know what to do with him. Evan’s confident, sure. Loud, capable, good under pressure. But it was Bobby who helped center him. Who gave him direction when everything else felt chaotic. Now that he’s gone, Evan’s just... untethered. Trying to figure out where he fits, and if he even still belongs.”
Mac’s gaze softened. “And you?”
He exhaled. “I’m doing my best to remind him that he does.”
Mac held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded, slow and deliberate. “Good. Because if you’re walking with someone who carries that kind of weight, your job isn’t to lift it for them. It’s to make sure they know they don’t have to carry it alone.”
Mac just watched him for a moment, her expression softening, thoughtful in a way that didn’t feel like pity, just understanding.
“Grief can hollow you out,” she continued softly. “Make you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. But it also means he loved deeply. That’s not weakness, Tommy. That’s strength, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”
She took another sip of her coffee, eyes distant, like she was sifting through old memories. “When my husband died, I didn’t just lose him, I lost the version of myself I was with him. And for a while, I thought that meant I was broken. But Bobby… he helped me see that grief isn’t about staying in the pain. It’s about learning to live with it. To grow around it. And Evan? He’s still in the thick of it. But he’s still showing up. That says something.”
Tommy swallowed, the words landing heavy and true. “He’s trying.”
Mac smiled. “Then he’s already doing more than most.”
She reached out and lightly tapped the edge of his binder. “And so are you. I meant what I said earlier, you looked lighter the other night. Happier. Sometimes it takes going through the fire to really see what you want on the other side.”
Her gaze met his, steady and kind. “Whatever Buck’s walking through, he doesn’t have to do it alone. And neither do you.”
****
Later, the station had gone quiet. The overhead lights were dimmed, the weight room empty, and the only sounds were the low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak of metal as someone shifted in their bunk. Tommy lay on his side in the dark, one arm curled under his head, the other resting against the worn cotton of his t-shirt as he stared up at the ceiling. He should’ve been asleep by now. His body was tired enough, a full day of flying, studying, but his mind was still sifting through everything.
Mac’s words had lingered longer than he expected. Grief means he loved deeply. That’s not weakness, that’s strength.
He thought about Buck. About the way he still carried Bobby’s death like a fresh wound, even when he smiled, even when he tried to act like he was fine. He thought about the weight Buck never let anyone else hold for long. About how fiercely he loved, his team, his job, the people he let in, even when they didn’t stay.
Tommy had almost walked away from that. He had walked away.
But Buck had let him back in anyway. And now… now Tommy wanted to stay. Not just for the good days, but for all the ones in between. The heavy ones. The messy ones. The ones Buck didn’t know how to talk about yet.
He reached over to the side table and picked up his phone. The screen’s glow lit his face as he thumbed out a message.
Tommy: Just checking in, you’re probably asleep but just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.
He set the phone down, chest already easing as the words settled between them, even if Buck was asleep and wouldn’t read them until morning.
Tommy exhaled, rolled onto his back, and let his eyes slip closed.
But the peace didn’t last.
A moment later, the tones blared through the station speakers, shrill, urgent.
“Medic air support requested, 101 Freeway. Multiple injuries. Rope and rotor rescue confirmed.”
Tommy was already out of bed, boots hitting the floor as adrenaline cut through the haze of near-sleep.
The message light on his phone blinked once just before he grabbed his gear, 1 new message from Evan.
He didn’t stop to read it. But he smiled. Just a little.
And then he ran.
Notes:
A chapter entirely from Tommy's POV! Thought he deserved to shine a bit more!
Thank you again for all the love for this story! Hope you enjoyed this one and always love to hear your thoughts!
Chapter 10: Ashes to Ashes
Summary:
A visit from a familiar face cracks open something Buck isn’t ready to face. When a warehouse fire turns deadly fast, Buck steps up.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck had spent the whole day walking in and out of walls that didn’t belong to him. They all blurred together after a while, exposed brick, laminate floors, trendy kitchen backsplashes trying too hard to be charming. Some places were too new, with a sterile, chemical sheen that reminded him of waiting rooms and model homes. Others were too worn, like the charm had been scuffed out of them years ago and no one had bothered to put it back.
He wanted warmth. He wanted character. He just didn’t know how to explain what that actually meant, only that he’d know it when he felt it. Something quiet. Lived in, but not perfect. Just…something with a soul.
He’d told the agent as much somewhere around apartment six, his patience thinning under the weight of white walls. He’d also asked her to widen the search.
She’d promised to follow up with more listings later in the day, something with character, she said, whatever that meant.
He hadn’t planned on looking anywhere near Harbour Station, not at first. But lately, the idea of being “close to work” didn’t carry the weight it used to. What were thirty extra minutes in traffic, really, if it brought him closer to something that felt more like home?
He didn’t say it out loud, not to the agent, not even to himself until now, but he knew why he kept gravitating that way. It wasn’t just about the neighbourhood, or the quiet streets. It was him. Tommy. They were still figuring it out, still cautious and carrying old bruises, but something about it felt more honest this time. Like they weren’t just falling into each other; they were choosing each other.
He didn’t want to announce it. Not yet. Not even to Maddie. He liked having this little piece of peace that wasn’t up for debate or analysis. It felt sacred. And this time, he wasn’t sprinting toward the finish line. He was taking the long road, one steady step at a time.
Still, the apartment hunt was frustrating. He’d hoped today would feel productive, like some kind of forward momentum. Instead, it just felt like circling. Like running in place. And now, his limbs were buzzing with leftover energy and nowhere to put it.
So the moment he got home he decided to start packing. Sorting through the various rooms and deciding what he would need for the next few weeks and what could go in a box. He was mid-way through deciding whether to keep or donate an unopened fondue set when the doorbell rang.
Buck wiped his hands on his jeans and crossed the house, half-expecting Ravi, or maybe Maddie swinging by unannounced with takeout and that tight look she got when she thought he wasn’t saying everything.
But it wasn’t either of them.
It was Athena.
She stood on his porch with that impossible mix of calm and command, posture straight, gaze steady, but there was something different in her eyes. Tired. Sad. Familiar. Like the echo of something he’d been carrying around for weeks.
They hadn’t really talked since the funeral. Part of him had been hurt she didn’t ask him to come with them to Minnesota to bury Bobby. Part of him still was. But the rest… the rest understood. Without Bobby, he wasn’t really family. Not to her.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Buck stepped back. “You, uh… want to come in?”
Athena gave a nod and stepped past him into the house. He closed the door gently behind her.
She took in the half-packed boxes, the cluttered surfaces. “You’re moving,” she said, not as a question.
Buck nodded, hands settling on his hips like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Yeah. I mean… I haven’t found the place yet. But Eddie and Chris are coming back soon, and…” He trailed off, eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah.”
Athena studied him for a beat, then asked, “You okay with that?”
“I don’t really have a choice,” he said quietly. There was no point in lying, not to Athena. She always saw through him anyway.
Athena looked at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She didn’t argue or nod, just watched him like she was still trying to understand the full shape of the hurt behind his words.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked after a beat, reaching for the easiest escape hatch he could find. “Water? Tea? I think I’ve got some root beer in the back of the fridge. Possibly older than Chris.”
“A glass of water would be good,” she said gently.
“Yeah...of course.” Buck moved toward the kitchen, the familiar motions grounding him. Fill the glass. Focus on something small. He wasn’t sure why she was here and that made him nervous.
He handed it to her a minute later, then sat down across from her on the couch. The silence stretched out between them, not hostile, not even awkward. Just heavy. Like grief was a third presence in the room, sitting between them, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
“I should’ve come sooner,” Athena said quietly.
Buck looked up, startled by the gentleness in her voice.
“I’ve been meaning to,” she continued. “But I wasn’t ready.”
Buck’s throat tightened. “I didn’t know if I should either. After the funeral…I didn’t know where I stood.”
“I should’ve asked you to come with us,” she said. “To Minnesota. I didn’t think.” She paused, a rare admission hanging in the air. Athena Grant didn’t often say she was wrong.
“I get it,” Buck said, though the words came out more brittle than he meant. “It was family. And I’m not—”
Athena’s voice cut through the air, sharper than before. “Yes, you are.”
He froze, the words lodging in his chest.
“You are,” she said again, softer now. “May used to joke that I brought two kids into our marriage, and Bobby brought one.” She gave him a small, sad smile. “You.”
Buck’s breath caught in his throat. The ache behind his ribs cracked open, raw and sudden, like he’d been holding it in for far too long.
Buck exhaled shakily. “I still see it sometimes. The way he looked at me. Not afraid. Just… tired. Like he’d already made peace with it.”
He swallowed hard, eyes unfocused. “I still expect him to show up at the firehouse. To pick up when I call. To tell me what to do when everything feels like it’s falling apart.”
Athena’s voice was quiet, jarringly so, for someone who normally carried every room she walked into. “I wasn’t ready either. Not to say goodbye. Not to come home to silence. Not to figure out how to live a life that doesn’t have him in it.”
They sat with that for a moment, the weight of what they’d lost thick in the room. Not just Bobby, but the shape he’d held in their lives. The centre. The grounding.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you away,” she said at last, her voice low but certain, the kind of apology that didn’t come easily, and didn’t need to be repeated.
She met his gaze, steady and soft. “So no more hiding from each other, you hear?”
Buck let out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh caught in his throat.
“And when you find your next home,” she added, her tone lifting just slightly, “I expect an invite. Regular family dinners. No excuses.”
She gave him a pointed look. “You’re the resident cook in the family now.”
That pulled a crooked smile from him. “Yeah, well… I learned from the best.”
“You did,” Athena said, her voice fond.
Buck looked down for a moment, thumb brushing the side of the water glass in his hand. He hadn’t expected today to feel like this, like something broken was slowly knitting back together. He’d been bracing for awkwardness, guilt, maybe even resentment. But instead, she was just… here. Still Athena. Still family...In their very unconventional way.
He glanced up again. “How are you doing, Athena?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.
She looked at him for a long moment, like the question had caught her off guard.
“I have good days,” she said after a pause. “And days where I still expect to hear his keys in the door. Where I roll over in bed and forget, for half a second, that he’s not there. And then I remember. And it hits me all over again.”
Buck nodded, his throat tight. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”
Athena’s eyes shone with tears that she refused to shed, but she didn’t look away. “I’m getting through it. Some days I fake it better than others. But I keep going. Because that’s what he’d want.”
She reached into her bag, pulling out a worn envelope and placing it gently on the table between them.
“I didn’t just come to check in on you,” she said softly. “He left something for you.”
Buck’s breath caught as his eyes landed on the envelope. It was small. Unassuming. But the weight of what it might hold crashed into him like a wave. He couldn’t move, just stared at it, heart hammering, afraid that if he blinked, it might vanish. Afraid that opening it would be the final nail in the coffin. The proof he hadn’t wanted. Bobby really wasn’t coming back.
“What…what is it?” he asked, the words catching in his throat. His eyes never left the envelope, not even as he registered the familiar handwriting, in Bobby’s unmistakable handwriting, spelling out his name.
“A letter,” Athena said. “He wrote it for you.”
Buck felt the air shift, like the world had stilled, just for a moment, round that sentence. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the envelope.
Bobby had written him a letter. Not one for the team. Not something official or expected. Just… for him.
The realization struck harder than he expected. This wasn’t a captain writing to a firefighter. This was Bobby, the man who had quietly, steadily become the closest thing Buck had ever had to a father. And Buck was someone Bobby had thought about. Chosen. Left something behind for.
His throat tightened. The awe of it, of being held in Bobby’s heart that way, settled over him like a weight and a warmth all at once. He could feel his eyes sting with tears as he looked down at the last words Bobby would ever give him.
“Why now?” he asked, voice barely audible, the question slipping out like a secret he hadn’t meant to speak aloud.
Athena’s gaze softened as she looked at him, like she could see exactly what the letter meant before he’d even opened it.
“Because I think you need it,” she said gently. “And because I think there’s something you need to hear.”
She paused, like the memory took effort to hold steady. Then, with a quiet breath, she added, “He said you were one of the best things to ever happen to him.”
Buck’s head dropped, his shoulders curling inward like the words had struck something unprotected.
Athena leaned forward, her voice steady but thick. “He was proud of you, Buck. Always. Even when you doubted yourself. Even when you couldn’t see the man you were becoming, he did. He saw it. And he believed in it.”
She reached out, resting a hand on his knee. “He loved you. You were his family.”
Buck covered his face with both hands, a shaky breath escaping, not quite a sob, but close. “I miss him so much.”
“I do too,” Athena said quietly. “Every damn day.”
She reached out, her hand settling on his back, a quiet comfort in the middle of so much hurt.
“We’ll get through this, Buck. You and me. The kids. We’re a family, and we’re going to stick together. And every day we breathe will be in remembrance of that stubborn man we all loved so much.”
Buck nodded slowly, eyes burning, throat tight.
They were the most unconventional family, messy, scattered, stitched together by choice rather than blood, and maybe that was why they meant so much to him. This was a family he chose, and that had chosen him, again and again.
The weight of losing that when Bobby died had settled in his chest like stone, heavier than he’d ever let himself admit out loud. Hearing Athena say this, that he still belonged, that he still had a place with them, lifted something from his shoulders.
He felt like he could breathe for the first time in weeks.
Athena stayed a little while longer. They talked, not about the letter, not about the aching silence Bobby had left behind, but about life. The station. Buck admitted that things still felt strained with the 118. The quiet between calls felt louder than it used to. But he was hopeful. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but with time, it would get better.
He asked about the kids, and she lit up, telling him about May getting ready to graduate this year and about Harry’s sudden obsession with vintage vinyl.
By the time she stood to go, the sun was lower in the sky and the room felt lighter than it had when she arrived.
At the door, she pulled him into a gentle hug.
“I mean it,” she said, pulling back with a smile. “When you’re settled in your new place, I expect to be invited over for dinner.”
She paused, eyes glinting. “And don’t forget to invite that boyfriend of yours.”
Buck blinked. “How did you—?”
Athena just laughed, rich and knowing. “Fool, please. You don’t call up your ex and ask him to commit treason unless you’re wanting to patch things up.”
Buck flushed, but she kept going before he could recover.
“I’m just glad you’ve both stopped being stupid.”
Buck stood in the doorway long after Athena had gone, her words echoing in the stillness around him.
It made him smile, a real one this time, not the half-hearted kind he’d been faking for weeks. Leave it to Athena to cut through the noise with one sharp line and a whole lot of love.
He closed the door gently, the house quiet again but no longer hollow. He sat back down on the edge of the couch, the late afternoon light catching the curve of the envelope. He moved toward it slowly, resting his fingertips on the paper without picking it up. Just feeling its weight. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. And maybe that was okay. The letter would still be there tomorrow. And when he was ready, really ready, he’d open it.
But for now, he just sat in the quiet, with a little more peace in his chest than he’d had before.
****
The next day at the 118 was hushed. Not in the calls, those still came like clockwork, but in between, in the bay and the loft, there was a stillness that hadn’t existed here before.
He wasn’t sure if he was the one pulling back, or if they were still holding him at arm’s length. Probably both. Either way, he felt like he was stuck in orbit, close enough to be seen, but never quite pulled into their gravity.
Still, something in him had shifted. He didn’t feel like he was sinking anymore. More like he’d finally hit bottom, and now he was sitting in the quiet of it, trying to figure out how to climb back up.
He moved a little slower. Spoke a little softer. But the sadness didn’t cling to him the way it had last week. It was still there, it would be, for a while, but it had reshaped itself into something quieter. Something more reserved. Tucked in, instead of spilling out.
He didn’t know if anyone else noticed the shift in him. Chimney had stopped asking pointed questions. Hen had gone from concerned to quietly observant, like she was waiting for him to go first. They worked together fine, but it was still awkward, a little too careful, a little too polite. The easy rhythm they used to share hadn’t found its way back yet.
He caught Ravi watching him at lunch.
“You good?” Ravi asked, voice low enough not to carry across the table.
Buck gave him a small nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Ravi waited, like he knew there was more, but didn’t push.
And Buck appreciated that, maybe more than he could say. The quiet patience. The lack of pressure. The way Ravi never asked for more than Buck could give, never filled the silence with questions or expectations. He just… showed up. And right now, that meant everything.
They ran a call together that afternoon, a group of cyclists crashing in the middle of a busy intersection. Ravi crouched down to help one who’d clipped a curb and gone down hard, his wrist swelling fast. He was calm and steady as he checked vitals, while Buck kept an eye on traffic. They moved in sync, didn’t have to say much. It was instinctive.
Buck felt the rhythm of it settle into his bones, a quiet kind of ease he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Not better than what he’d had with Eddie. Just… different. Lighter. Eddie had been a great partner, but there was always a tension to it. Like Eddie was always watching him, waiting for the moment Buck would slip or spin too far out of control.
With Ravi, it didn’t feel like that.
There was no history weighing them down, no old wounds hiding between the lines. Just quiet trust, and the slow build of something steady beneath it. Buck found he was genuinely enjoying getting to know Ravi, not just as a partner, but as a person. They had more in common than he’d expected, and it made the time between calls easier. The conversations flowed, sometimes light, sometimes unexpectedly deep, and for once, Buck didn’t feel like he had to explain himself before being understood.
****
The shift slowed as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the bay. Buck slipped away during cleanup, claiming he needed air, not that anyone questioned it. He’d been gravitating toward the roof more lately. Fewer questions up there. Just the wind, the city, and the space to think.
He leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the horizon without really seeing it. The rooftop air was cooler now, quieter. The city below had softened in the hush of dusk. He pulled out his phone, thumb hesitating over the screen for just a second before tapping the name he kept reaching for lately without even thinking.
Tommy answered on the second ring, voice rough with fatigue but warm. “Hey.”
Buck exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Hey,” he said back, the word full of meaning, I missed you. “How was your shift?”
“Long,” Tommy said with a sigh. “But okay. Mac’s started having me shadow her team, which is… interesting. Mostly a lot of standing around right now until I finish the certifications.” Another pause. “She wants to sit down with Captain Mitchell and me next shift, figure out a long-term plan.”
“Sounds exhausting,” Buck said, his voice soft with sympathy.
“It is,” Tommy admitted. Then, after a pause, “But it’s good. I think. She believes in me. I’m just trying not to let that scare me.”
That pulled the faintest smile from Buck. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “But I have no doubt you’ll be brilliant. You’re kind of a badass when it comes to this job.”
“Evan..” he started. Buck could almost hear him blushing through the phone. Clearing his throat he asked, “How about you? How’s your shift been?”
Buck leaned further into the railing, the metal cool under his arms. He let the question settle before answering. “Busy. A few small calls. Nothing that’ll make the news.” He rubbed at his jaw, feeling the tired set into his bones. “Still got another twelve hours to go.”
A beat passed. Buck shifted slightly, gaze dropping to the street below. “Athena came by yesterday.”
There was a pause on the line, softer this time. “Yeah?”
Buck nodded, even though Tommy couldn’t see it. “We talked. About Bobby. About... everything. She apologized for not asking me to go with them. To the burial.”
Tommy didn’t rush him, just waited.
Buck exhaled. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear that until she said it.”
A pause. Then, quieter, “She brought a letter. From him.”
Tommy was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful, gentle. “Have you read it yet?”
“No,” Buck said, barely more than a whisper. “Not yet. I’m nowhere near ready for that. But…” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat.
“But knowing you were someone he chose to leave something behind for,” Tommy said, finishing the thought, “made the weight of it all a little lighter.”
“Yeah,” Buck breathed.
The emotion surged again, but this time it didn’t drown him. Tommy didn’t press, didn’t try to fix it. His quiet presence, even just over the phone, was all Buck needed.
“She also said that when I move into my next place, I’ll be responsible for family dinners,” Buck added, lighter now.
Tommy chuckled. “Did she now.”
“Yup. And to make sure I invite you.”
There was a stunned pause, and Buck found himself wishing he could see Tommy’s face. “How did she…”
“It’s Athena, Tommy. She knows everything.”
They both laughed at that. Buck could hear the quiet thump of a car door, the shift in ambient noise that told him Tommy had just pulled into his driveway. The faint jingle of keys. A soft sigh.
He knew he needed to let him go. Tommy had just come off a long shift. He needed sleep, not late-night conversations. And yet, Buck found himself lingering, not quite ready to sever the thread between them.
“I should let you go,” he said finally, though his voice was softer, reluctant. “You’re probably running on fumes.”
Tommy didn’t argue. “I am,” he admitted, with a tired little chuckle. “But… I like having your voice be the last thing I hear before I crash.”
Buck smiled, slow and warm, the kind that tugged at something deep in his chest. He didn’t know what to say to that at first, not because he didn’t feel it too, but because it felt like something fragile. Sacred.
“I like that too,” he said finally, voice low.
Buck leaned back against the railing, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. The wind stirred gently around him, cool and grounding. These little moments had come to mean more than he expected, soft, quiet anchors in the storm of everything else. Bright spots breaking through the cloud of grief.
“Sleep well,” he murmured.
“You too. Be safe, okay?”
“I will. Night, Tommy.”
“Goodnight, Evan.”
They hung up, and Buck stayed there a while longer, letting the wind stir his hair and the quiet settled into his bones.
Buck was pulled from his thoughts by the shriek of the station’s alarms. He pushed off the railing, already moving as the sound snapped him into motion. By the time he hit the stairs, Chimney’s voice was coming through the comms, steady but tense. Buck burst into the bay just as the rest of the team was scrambling into the truck. He jumped in, reaching for his turnout gear as the engine roared to life, muscle memory kicking in. Jacket. Helmet. Gloves.
Chimney’s voice cut through the clatter, calm but tense. “Abandoned textile mill off Alameda. Condemned structure. Reports of squatters inside. Fire’s escalating fast. Multiple stations are already on scene, but it’s going sideways quick.” Buck’s hand froze briefly at the word condemned , his gut twisting. This was not going to be good.
****
The factory loomed ahead like something out of a nightmare, brick and corrugated metal half-eaten by time, windows shattered, graffiti scrawled across the upper floors in colours that looked ghostly in the flickering orange glow. By the time the 118 pulled up, flames were already curling out of the second floor like claws.
Buck adjusted his gear, heart kicking into rhythm as he took in the scene. Smoke billowed from the skeletal remains of the textile mill, the air thick with heat and the sharp tang of burning fabric. Chimney stood beside the rig, barking orders over the comms, dispatching crews from Stations 128 and 104 with practiced urgency.
It was chaos.
“We go in tight and controlled,” Chimney said, turning back to them with a hard look.
Buck nodded. “Got it.”
Just before they moved out, Buck hesitated, his eyes landing on Chimney. There was tension in his shoulders, the kind that came with responsibility no one had asked for but everyone expected him to carry.
“You’ve got this,” Buck said, voice low but firm.
Chimney glanced up, surprised, but something in his expression eased. “Thanks, man. Let’s bring everyone home.”
They breached through the south side, the service bay doors were already warped from the heat. The second they crossed the threshold, the temperature punched up ten degrees. Buck’s suit clung to his skin. Smoke coiled low and thick, and the only light came from their helmet beams cutting slashes through the grey.
Ravi stuck close to his side, and Buck was grateful for that.
“South stairs to mezzanine intact, for now,” Hen’s voice came through the comms. “Someone said the ventilation’s off. Suppression system’s not syncing with controls.”
Buck frowned, even as they pushed deeper into the building. Suppression not syncing? That wasn’t just a glitch.
“If someone rerouted the suppression and messed with airflow,” Hen added, voice tight, “this place could turn into a furnace in minutes.”
Buck’s pulse kicked. Before he could fully process it, the floor beneath them gave a violent shudder.
“Flashover!” someone yelled.
The hallway behind them lit up like someone had cracked a sun flare, flames erupting out of the ventilation ducts and licking across the ceiling in a horizontal burst. It shouldn’t have moved that fast.
“Upstairs team, move! Get to the mezzanine, now!” Chimney snapped.
“Copy!” Buck called back, grabbing Ravi’s arm and hauling both of them toward the central stairwell. He felt the heat licking at his boots even through the gear. They took the stairs two at a time, ducking low through a smoke-choked landing before pushing into the upper level, or what was left of it.
A massive steel beam had crashed through the ceiling, slicing across the mezzanine like a guillotine. In the centre of the wreckage lay a firefighter, his turnout gear scorched, one leg pinned beneath a crumpled twist of metal. His helmet was marked with Station 104’s crest. Buck didn’t know his name. He didn’t need to.
“Chim, we’ve got an injured firefighter up here,” Buck said into his radio, breath tight. “He’s pinned under steel. Ravi and I are working to get him free, have an ambulance prepped and waiting.”
“Copy that,” Chimney replied, already coordinating from below.
“Buck, ceiling’s going,” Ravi warned, crouched low beside the trapped man. His flashlight beam cut through the smoke, catching the ominous sag in the overhead support.
Buck’s eyes flicked upward. The charred beams above them were bowing, wet insulation hanging down in blackened clumps. The whole structure was groaning. Seconds. They had seconds.
They moved fast, Buck wedging a crowbar beneath the beam to brace it while Ravi pulled the leg free, blood already soaking through scorched turnout pants where second-degree burns had seared flesh.
The moment they dragged him clear, the ceiling gave way with a roar, a hell storm of sparks and fire crashing down behind them.
“Move!” Buck shouted, slinging one of the firefighter’s arms over his shoulder. Ravi grabbed the other, and together they half-dragged, half-carried him toward the stairs, flames licking closer with every step.
They descended fast, boots slamming against metal, the stairwell rattling under the heat above. Smoke curled around them, thick and acrid, and Buck could feel the shift in air pressure, that ominous pull that always meant something was about to give.
They hit the ground floor hard. Around them, chaos was erupting. Hen and Chim were directing the last few firefighters out, yelling over the roar of collapsing beams. Buck didn’t even realize how loud the fire had gotten until his ears started ringing.
Then he heard it, a low, warped groan from above. He looked up just in time to see the ceiling start to dip.
“Hen! Chim!” he shouted. “Ceiling, move! Now!”
There was no hesitation. They bolted.
A second later, a massive HVAC duct crashed down where they’d just been, sending up a plume of dust and smoke. Metal twisted with a screech. Embers spat out like sparks from a grinder.
“Jesus,” Hen gasped, coughing hard as she helped Chimney over the debris. Her helmet was askew, soot streaked across her face.
Buck’s heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline still surging hot through his veins. Smoke clung to his gear, to his skin, to the spaces between every breath. But everyone was moving. Alive.
He passed the injured firefighter off to Hen, who immediately steadied him with practiced hands, guiding them both toward the waiting ambulance. Ravi was helping to carry the weight.
As Buck turned to follow, something near the entrance caught his eye, a flash of red against the gray.
He slowed, frowning as he stepped closer. Half-buried in soot, nestled in a pile of ash and rubble, was a small plastic firefighter. Melted on one side, face-down in the grime. Arms rigid.
A toy. It’s placement looked... odd. He crouched instinctively, gaze narrowing. It looked out of place. Wrong. Not something you expected to find in the ruins of a textile mill.
“Buck, come on!” Chimney’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with urgency.
Buck hesitated, unease sliding down his spine. His gut twisted, but logic overruled instinct, probably just something left behind by someone squatting here. Nothing more.
Still, as he turned and jogged after Chimney, the image stuck with him. The toy. The position. Like it had been placed there.
Waiting.
Outside, the injured firefighter was being loaded into an ambulance. His face was pale, shock setting in, but he was alive.
Buck stripped off his gear slowly, lungs burning as he dragged in mouthfuls of clean air. His hands shook, just a little, as he pulled off his helmet. Beside him, Ravi stood silent, sweat cutting tracks through the soot on his face.
They didn’t speak. Just exchanged a look, that wordless, bone-deep acknowledgment of how close that had been.
Then Chimney was there, clapping a hand on Buck’s shoulder, firm, grateful, lingering just a little longer than usual.
“Nice work in there,” he said. “Seriously. You saved my ass.”
Buck started to brush it off, a shrug already forming, but Chimney didn’t move. His hand stayed, steady, grounding.
Chimney’s voice dropped. “I mean it. You did good. When you stay focused… you’re solid, Buck.”
He exhaled then, like there was more he wanted to say, but couldn’t quite shape it into something that wouldn’t land wrong. What was meant as a compliment thudded in Buck’s chest like a weight. Another reminder that they only saw what they wanted to.
“Thanks,” Buck said quietly, already turning away.
He caught the flicker of confusion on Chimney’s face, the small frown, the tilt of his head, like he didn’t understand what had just happened. But Buck was already climbing into the truck by the time Chim opened his mouth again.
Inside the cab, Buck sat and waited for the others. Outside, firehoses hissed, water soaking ash and twisted metal as crews gave the all clear. But the unease in his gut didn’t fade. It gnawed at him, low and constant, like something about the call was off. He couldn’t name it. Couldn’t shake it.
****
The ride back to the station was quiet. It was the kind of silence that came when everyone had given everything they had. Heads leaned back against the rig, eyes closed or fixed blankly on the passing city lights. The hum of the engine, the occasional crackle of radio static, the distant wail of another siren somewhere else in the city, it all blurred into background noise.
Buck sat with his hands still clenched in his lap, soot under his fingernails and the lingering scent of smoke soaked into his skin. His gear felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, even now, stripped down to just the basics. Every part of him ached, shoulders, knees, ribs. His heartbeat had finally slowed, but it still thudded dully in his chest.
As they pulled into the bay, nobody said much. Hen gave Chimney a pat on the back. Ravi offered Buck a small, tired smile before following Hen.
Buck moved on autopilot. Hanging his gear. Peeling off the layers. Making the slow, heavy trek to the showers.
The first blast of water was too hot, but he didn’t flinch. Just stood there, bracing one hand on the tile wall, watching as soot and ash circled the drain in slow, oily swirls. The heat seeped into his bones. The night crept under his skin.
So much had shifted in the last few weeks. His decision to stay at the 118, when every instinct had told him to run. His rekindled relationship with Tommy, the one thing that felt solid, sure, even when everything else felt like it was drifting. Ravi, stepping into his life with quiet steadiness, becoming someone he trusted more with every shift.
And yet, Buck couldn’t stop his thoughts from circling back to Bobby.
The ache never really left. It had dulled, yes, rounded off by time, by repetition, by survival. Calls came, days passed. He smiled when he had to. Laughed when he could. But then there were days like today, days when the smoke clung too long, when the air felt heavier, when the fire felt too close, and all that ache surged forward again, raw and relentless.
The absence. The silence. The hollow shape Bobby had left behind.
Buck pressed his forehead to the cool tile, water cascading down his back in rivulets that did nothing to wash the weight away. He hadn’t broken down. Not in the field. Not afterward. But something inside him had cracked open again.
Unlike the past few calls, he’d felt Bobby with him today, in the way he moved, the way he decided, the way instinct took over and didn't falter. There was a strange calm in it. A confidence he hadn’t felt in weeks. But instead of comfort, it just hurt more.
Because it reminded him of all the things Bobby had taught him… and that Bobby wasn’t here to see it.
Grief was a ghost. It showed up when he least expected it, in the lull after chaos, in the quiet between breaths. He wanted to tell Bobby about today. About the firefighter he helped save. About the part where Buck had led, and didn’t leap. He wanted to hear Bobby say he’d done well. That he’d made him proud.
But all he had was silence.
He turned off the water and stood there for a moment longer, chest tight, eyes stinging.
He was tired. Bone tired. Not just from the shift, but from carrying all of it, the grief, the questions, the slow work of piecing himself back together.
The future loomed, heavy and uncertain.
But for now, he let himself be still. Let the sorrow wrap around him like a second skin. Let the ache settle into his bones without resistance.
Just... breathing through it.
One breath. Then another.
And finally, he stepped out into the dim light of the firehouse, the night pressing in all around him. Tomorrow was another day.
Notes:
Tommy's ok, sorry I worried some of you with the ending of the last chapter!
Thanks again for all the love and comments on the last chapter, I'm loving the reactions and predictions! I hope you enjoyed this one! I wanted Athena and Buck to have a moment, and I just love their dynamic!
Always love to hear your thoughts! xo
Chapter 11: Knockdown
Summary:
Buck seeks comfort in routine after a long shift, but the night takes a turn as quiet moments with Tommy give way to something deeper, and more haunting.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The kitchen was quiet, save for the gentle hiss of batter meeting heat and the occasional creak from the floorboards behind him as Tommy moved around the space, waking up. Buck adjusted the flame, wiped his hands on the dish towel slung over his shoulder, and let himself drift.
Six weeks.
It didn’t feel like that much time, and yet… everything had shifted. Not all at once, but enough to feel like the ground had moved under him.
Athena had sold the house.
He still wasn’t sure if that had been a surprise. Maybe it shouldn’t have been, she’d mentioned the idea once or twice, offhandedly, like a thought she wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. But then, one afternoon, she’d sent a photo to the group chat, a sunlit corner condo with big windows, clean lines, and a stunning view of the LA skyline. She’d called it a fresh start.
Buck had stared at that photo longer than he meant to. Not because he didn’t understand, he did. He got the need to let go of the ghosts that lingered too long. While the walls may be new, her house with Bobby had always been more than a home; it was a place filled with the kind of memories that left echoes in every room. A love story written into the walls.
But now, Bobby was gone, and maybe Athena didn’t want to live inside a tomb of memories. He couldn’t blame her for that. He was happy for her. Proud, even. It took strength to choose something different. To say I can’t stay here anymore and mean it, to start again, even while carrying everything you lost.
He hadn’t said all that. Just helped her carry the last few boxes, loaded her trunk, and stood with her on the front lawn as she locked the door one final time. She hadn’t looked back.
Then there was Maddie.
She’d gone into labour two weeks early and still somehow managed to stay calm while Chimney absolutely lost his mind. Buck had never seen the man pace that much without a call involved.
The whole 118 had piled into the hospital the next day, trickling in by shift or after hours, cramming into the room like some kind of chaotic family reunion. There were too many hugs, not enough chairs, and someone (probably Hen) had cried before the baby even made it into the room.
Robert Nash Han. Tiny. Loud. Perfect.
When Buck held him, something in his chest ached. He looked down at that scrunched-up, impossibly small face, wrinkled and stubborn and already so loved, and thought, Bobby’s never going to meet his namesake.
And for a moment, the joy and the grief tangled so tightly he couldn’t separate them.
He didn’t say anything. Just kissed the top of Maddie’s head when she leaned into him and hoped she didn’t see the pain in his eyes, the part of him still mourning, even as the rest of him brimmed with love for the newest member of their family.
Eddie and Chris had moved back last week.
Buck had already moved out a few days earlier, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a few boxes packed in his car, the rest of his belongings tucked into a storage locker until his new place was ready. It had taken longer than expected to find something he was happy with. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, still missing something he couldn’t quite name. But it felt like a place he could settle, at least for now. A place that could be his.
He didn’t know how to interact with Eddie anymore.
They’d barely exchanged more than a handful of texts while Eddie had been in El Paso wrapping things up. Normally, there would’ve been daily back-and-forth, Buck offering distractions, Eddie sending dry updates from the battlefield that was his parents’ house. But now, there was space between them. Too much of it. And neither of them seemed to know how to close the gap.
What used to be easy had turned into stiff, awkward messages. Texts that didn’t ask questions and didn’t require more than one-word replies.
So instead of being there to greet Eddie and Chris when they got back, Buck handed Eddie’s keys to Hen and said he was covering an extra shift.
It wasn’t his finest moment. But he was trying to be better about boundaries, not showing up just because it was expected, especially when it cost more than it gave. And maybe that was selfish. Maybe it hurt in ways he wasn’t ready to name. But it felt like the right choice. Or at least…the necessary one.
He hadn’t told anyone where he was moving to. Not that anyone had asked.
The new place was a little farther from the 118. A little closer to Tommy. That hadn’t been the reason, not entirely, but it wasn’t not the reason either.
The only hiccup was that it wouldn’t be ready for a few more weeks.
So when Tommy had said, “Stay here, at least until your place is ready,” Buck didn’t hesitate.
He knew it was temporary. They weren’t ready for something permanent, not yet, and Buck didn’t know if he’d ever be the one to bring up that conversation again. But his heart, God, his heart was happy. Happy in a way it hadn’t been in a long, long time.
Because this time together, even if it was borrowed, meant something.
He got to see Tommy, not just the hot pilot, or the man who once pulled away and came back with both hands open, but the everyday version. The one who left dishes in the sink, hummed while brushing his teeth, mumbled good morning with sleep-rasped fondness and a hand blindly reaching for Buck across the bed.
And maybe that made it all feel more real. More grounded. More theirs .
Now here he was, in Tommy’s house, barefoot, making breakfast.
Behind him, soft footfalls padded across the floor, slow and familiar, as Tommy made his way downstairs and into the kitchen.
“Smells good,” came the voice behind him, rough with sleep, already laced with amusement.
Tommy wandered into view, wearing low-slung sweats and an old LAFD t-shirt with a rip at the collar. His hair was still damp, towel looped around his neck, and his expression held that mix of fond exasperation Buck had grown used to waking up to.
Buck didn’t turn around right away. He was focused on the pancakes, golden brown, just the right amount of crisp at the edge. His specialty.
“I told you,” Buck said, flipping one with practiced ease. “You’ll never go back to diner breakfasts again.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, clearly enjoying the show. “You’re so cocky when you’re cooking. It’s kind of hot.”
Buck smirked. “It’s not cocky if it’s true.” He plated the pancake, garnished it with berries from a bowl he’d already prepped, and slid it across the counter with a little flourish. “Bon appétit.”
Tommy eyed the plate, then Buck, then the plate again. “You’re not even pretending this isn’t foreplay, are you?”
Buck just shrugged, not quite hiding his grin. “I know what I bring to the table. Literally.”
Tommy grabbed a fork, took a bite, and groaned, actually groaned , eyes closing briefly as he chewed.
Buck tried not to look too pleased with himself. “That’s what I thought.”
“I hate you,” Tommy said, mouth still full. “You’re infuriating. You look like that and you can cook?”
“Well,” Buck said, sliding the plate a little closer, voice dipping, “aren’t you lucky I’m all yours.”
Tommy set down his fork and stepped closer, eyes warm and steady, that dangerous kind of fondness that always left Buck feeling seen in a way that was almost too much.
“I know I am,” Tommy said, quiet but sure. He looked at Buck like the words were true down to the bone. “And I don’t take a second of it for granted.”
The smile slipped from Buck’s face, not in a bad way. Just softened, edged with something real and raw. He flushed and turned back to the stove under the pretense of checking the next pancake.
“Eat your food.”
“Gladly,” Tommy said. “Just wondering how I’m supposed to go back to sad frozen waffles after this.”
Buck grinned at the pan. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to.”
There was a beat of silence. Buck didn’t mean for it to sound like a promise.
But maybe it was one anyway.
Behind him, Tommy didn’t say anything at first. Just reached past to grab the syrup, fingers brushing lightly against Buck’s arm, warm and unhurried, before moving to carry his plate to the table.
Tommy settled at the table, syrup in one hand, fork in the other, clearly ready to commit. Buck followed a moment later with his own plate, dragging his chair out with a scrape that earned him a look.
“Gentle hands, Evan,” Tommy said around a bite of pancake. “It’s a table, not a trapped civilian.”
Buck smirked. “What if the table’s in distress? I’m trained to respond.”
“Pretty sure your gear bag doesn’t include maple syrup,” Tommy muttered, eyeing the plate like it was a personal gift. “Though maybe it should.”
Buck grinned. “You mock me now, but in two hours you’ll be eating granola bars in a helicopter and wishing you’d appreciated me more.”
Tommy pointed his fork at him. “I already appreciate you. I’m just not gonna inflate your ego before coffee number two.”
Buck laughed, took a bite of pancake, and sighed contentedly. “You know, I think this might be my best batch yet.”
“Your humble spirit is inspiring.”
They ate for a few minutes in that quiet rhythm that had started to settle between them , familiar now, almost habitual. Outside, the city buzzed to life. A siren somewhere in the distance. The soft rumble of traffic just beyond the windows.
Buck checked the time on his phone. “We’ve got, what, thirty minutes?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I should be at Harbour by seven. Mac’s running some joint ops drills this morning.”
Buck raised an eyebrow. “Another land-sea-air extravaganza?”
“Something like that.” Tommy shrugged. “At least it gets me out of paperwork.”
“Jealous,” Buck muttered. “I’ve got another round of hydrant inspections with Chim to start my day.”
“That’s the real reason you made me pancakes,” Tommy said, narrowing his eyes. “You needed a win before the clipboard.”
Buck held up his mug in a mock toast. “Exactly.”
Tommy took another bite, slower this time, like he was already thinking about the hours ahead. “Your last shift before Eddie starts back. You gonna be okay?”
Buck hesitated, fork paused over his plate. “Yeah. I mean… we’ve worked together for years. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Maybe it’ll help.” He pushed a piece of pancake through syrup, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Besides, I’ve got Ravi. And I’ve got you.”
Tommy looked at him for a moment, eyes soft, steady. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You do.”
Buck leaned back in his chair and polished off the last bite of pancake, already feeling the weight of the day starting to settle on his shoulders. He pushed it off for now.
“What’s the plan for you today?” he asked. “Still shadowing Mac’s team, or are they throwing you to the wolves now?”
Tommy smirked, reaching for his coffee. “Bit of both, probably. Mac wants me on the land-sea drills this morning, full deployment, coordination with Rescue 3 and a Coast Guard observer tagging along. If it goes well, she might start easing me into team lead rotations by the end of the month.”
Buck’s brow lifted. “Wait…really?”
Tommy gave a small shrug, but it didn’t hide the flicker of pride in his eyes. “Yeah. Nothing official yet, but she’s been pairing me with different lieutenants on various field calls, watching how I handle command decisions, how I move with the team. She said she wants to see if I’m ready to start leading certain ops without a safety net.”
Buck let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s big.”
“It is,” Tommy said, a little cautious but quietly excited. “I mean, I wouldn’t be calling the shots on every scene, but maybe I’d lead air rescues solo, without Captain Mitchel overseeing, or cover as acting captain when Mac or Mitchel are off-shift. First on the scene, organizing resources, managing air-ground comms…” He trailed off, like he still wasn’t entirely sure it was real.
Buck smiled, soft and genuine. “That’s more than big, Tommy. Sounds like they’re grooming you for command.”
Tommy looked down at his coffee, swirling the last bit in the mug. “Yeah. I think she sees something in me. And… I guess I’m finally starting to see it too.”
Buck reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly over Tommy’s wrist before pulling back. “I’ve always seen it.”
Tommy shot him a look. “You’re dangerously close to becoming my hype man.”
Buck grinned. “I’ve always been your hype man. I just do it with pancakes now.”
Tommy laughed, warm and low and fully awake now, and Buck let himself soak it in for a beat longer before checking the time again.
They moved through the rest of the morning in quiet sync, dishes rinsed and left to soak, uniforms pulled from the dryer, Buck’s keys jangling lightly on the counter as he double-checked the time.
“Shouldn’t you be gone already?” Tommy asked, still barefoot as he slung his jacket over one shoulder.
Buck gave him a look. “Says the guy who hasn’t even packed his gear bag yet.”
Tommy smirked but didn’t argue. He stepped closer instead, reached out, and straightened the collar of Buck’s shirt with a practiced flick of his fingers, a quiet gesture, one he’d done before, one that always made Buck go a little still.
“Be safe, okay?”
Buck nodded, eyes catching on his. “You too.”
Tommy leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, soft, unhurried, lingering just long enough for Buck to exhale into it.
Buck grinned. “That a good luck kiss or a reminder not to do anything that lands me in the hospital?”
“Both,” Tommy said, and bumped their foreheads together gently before stepping back.
****
By the time Tommy rolled into Harbour Station, the morning sun was already high, casting long shadows and bringing the heat with it. The air smelled like salt and diesel, a familiar cocktail of sea spray, engine grease, and adrenaline, and the hum of radios echoed faintly through the open bay doors.
He exhaled as he stepped out of his truck, letting the rhythm of the station settle into his bones. There was something about this place, the openness, the steady tides, the controlled chaos, that made him feel like he’d found his place. Like the version of himself he was still trying to grow into had room here. And maybe, for once, he wasn’t faking it.
J.J. and Blake were already hauling gear toward the rear bay where Rescue 3 , a heavy-duty LAFD coastal response truck, was being prepped. Mounted to the back trailer was one of the station’s 20-foot rescue boats, designed for quick sea entry and short-range rescue deployment. Today’s drill site was a stretch of rocky coastline just south of Palos Verdes, a known trouble spot with sharp winds, uneven surf, and limited shore access. They’d drive the rig there, launch from the ramp, and conduct a live rescue simulation from boat and air.
J.J. clocked him first and raised two fingers in a lazy salute. “Hope you’re fueled, Tommy. Mac’s in a mood.”
Tommy slung his pack over one shoulder. “What kind of mood?”
Blake grimaced. “The four coffee kind.”
Tommy groaned. “Perfect.”
Just beyond them, Kai was crouched near the boat’s comms panel, head down, voice low as he tested signals back to dispatch. He’d always been more on the rescue side, rarely looped into air operations, even before Mac arrived, which meant Tommy hadn’t worked many active calls with him. But between their regular pick-up basketball games and trivia nights over the past few months and the easy banter that came with it, they’d become friends. So yeah, Tommy was genuinely excited to be teamed up for this drill, it felt like a good kind of new.
As if sensing the attention, Kai looked up and gave him that familiar shit-eating grin, the one that made you wonder if he was about to flirt, fight, or suggest something highly illegal just for kicks.
Tommy grinned back and kept moving.
Inside, Mac was exactly where he expected her, standing over the central table with three tide maps spread out, her tablet open, and a half-drunk coffee slowly going cold beside her.
“Morning, Tommy,” she said, eyes still on the map. “Hope you’re feeling competent.”
“Wildly,” Tommy replied, dropping his bag beside him. “Also extremely caffeinated.”
“Good. You’re running point on the coastal drill today.”
He blinked. “I thought I was shadowing.”
“You were. Now you’re leading.”
She finally looked up, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You’ve got a full team. J.J. on air support with Mila as medical, Blake spotting, Harper on comms, Kai on secondary nav and dive rescue. I’ll be onshore with the observer crew.”
Tommy hesitated for just a breath. Then he nodded. “Understood.”
The shift settled into his chest, this wasn’t a drill to them. This was a test of him.
Mac was watching him. The team was watching him. And weirdly, it didn’t rattle him. Not like it might’ve six months ago.
He thought about what Buck had said that morning, “You’ve been killing it.”
The words hadn’t seemed like much at the time, tossed between pancakes and coffee. But now, standing in the weight of his own decisions, they echoed louder. Not as flattery. As belief, and maybe that was what gave him strength. Not the praise, but the reminder that someone he loved saw it in him, even when he doubted it himself.
“Rescue 3 leaves in twenty,” Mac said, already turning back to the tide chart. “Don’t screw it up,” she added with a smirk.
Tommy turned to go, his pulse quickening with something not quite nerves. Maybe anticipation. Maybe something else, either way, he was ready.
****
Tommy stood on the deck of the rescue boat as it cut through the morning swell, the outboards humming beneath his boots. The shoreline loomed ahead, jagged cliffs, unpredictable tides, and a narrow cut of rocky inlet. It was a difficult landing zone even under ideal conditions.
“Visual on target,” Blake called from the bow, binoculars up. “Dummy swimmers about twenty meters off the rock line. Drift angles northwest. Currents are stronger than forecasted.”
“Copy,” Tommy said, scanning the perimeter. “J.J., what’s your status?”
J.J.’s voice crackled in over comms from the helicopter overhead. “Hovering at 150. Clear to drop on your go.”
Tommy ran the math in his head, wind speed, hoist angle, water pull. It was tight.
“Blake, angle us ten degrees starboard. Kai, you’re on deck, dive on my mark. J.J., hold hover and Mila prep the basket. Harper, let dispatch know we’re initiating lift sequence.”
Five voices came back, steady and clear. His team.
Kai gave him a quick thumbs up before slipping on the final straps of his wetsuit and moving to the edge.
Tommy braced a hand on the side rail, took one last look at the rock line, and gave the nod. “Go.”
Kai dove, clean, smooth, quiet. His entry barely sent a ripple across the surface.
“Target secure,” Kai said over comms a few beats later. “Dummy’s waterlogged, heavier than expected. Drift’s pulling harder west. Recommend lift ASAP before I lose the angle.”
Tommy keyed his mic. “Copy. J.J., drop to fifty feet, adjust two ticks south for lift vector. Blake, hold position and prep the stern for dummy retrieval if needed.”
The hum of the helicopter changed pitch as it shifted, and then the wind came. A hard gust funnelled down the cliffside and slammed into the hover angle, the hoist line swayed, the basket jerking toward the rocks
“Abort lift! Abort!” Tommy barked before he even realized he was shouting. “Kai, hold your position! J.J., gain altitude now and reset!”
For a beat, the channel went dead. Just static. Just white noise and the sound of the wind shrieking past the boat.
Then Kai again, calm as ever. “Holding. Dummy’s stable. Still got him.”
“Hovering at seventy,” J.J. confirmed. “Recovering position.”
Tommy gripped the side rail hard enough that his knuckles ached.
He hadn’t seen it coming. That gust. That shift. He’d accounted for a lot, terrain, tides, load weight, but not that. And if this had been a real call, with a real victim, one foot closer to the rocks…
Breathe.
He forced a slow breath through his nose.
“Let’s reposition and try again,” he said, voice quieter now. Measured. “Harper, confirm green light from shoreline.”
“Confirmed,” Harper replied. “Green from Mac.”
“Copy. Kai, prep for lift. J.J., let’s take it clean.”
They went again. This time, the lift was perfect.
Kai surfaced and hauled himself back onboard, soaked but grinning. “Was that dramatic enough for you?”
Tommy laughed, a short exhale of relief. “You just like showing off.”
Harper’s voice came through comms, light and warm. “Well-executed recovery. Mac’s… smiling. I think. It’s kind of terrifying...Nice job, team.”
And just like that, it was done.
****
Tommy hopped down from Rescue 3 as it backed into the bay, the familiar hiss of brakes and clatter of gear doors welcoming them home. His boots hit the concrete with a wet thud, still dripping from seawater, clothes heavy with ocean spray.
Blake started unloading the gear as Kai handed off the wet suit and tossed him a salute.
“Drinks on you,” Kai said. “That’s the price for not letting me drown.”
“Deal,” Tommy muttered, his grin quick and crooked.
Inside, the rescue ops command centre was buzzing quietly, Harper relaying after-action summaries to dispatch while Mac stood by the central monitor. Next to her stood the Coast Guard liaison, tall, composed, a highlighter tucked behind her ear, glanced up as Tommy entered.
“You’re dripping on my floor,” Mac said without looking up.
“Consider it part of the ambiance,” he shot back.
The Coast Guard rep stepped forward. “Lieutenant Kinard? Lauren Park, SAR liaison. Nice work today.”
He shook her hand, pulse skipping.
“Appreciate it,” he said.
“You’ve got strong team coordination. Scene leadership was clear and efficient. Minor timing issue on the first hoist, but your recovery plan was spot-on.”
Tommy nodded. “We’ve been drilling transitions pretty hard.”
Mac spoke next. “You didn’t catch the gust.”
Tommy’s jaw flexed. “No. I should’ve accounted for the updraft shift. That’s on me.”
Mac looked at him, steady and measured. “You adapted. Kept your diver safe. Recovered fast. That’s what I care about.”
He held her gaze, that same sharp, unflinching look that rarely came with praise.
Then she added, quieter this time. “That was good work.”
Coming from Mac, it might as well have been a medal.
Tommy felt the words settle deep, the tension in his spine slowly starting to unwind. Still, something in him hesitated.
He glanced at her again. “So… I didn’t fail the test?”
Mac raised an eyebrow. “I told you… this wasn’t a test.”
But this time, there was the faintest curve to her mouth, not quite a smile, but the humour behind her eyes gave her away. “I want your report by lunch,” she said. “Log the wind shift and your delay between hover drift and course correction. I need you thinking like command, not just a pilot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Tommy?”
He looked back.
“You should be proud.”
He was. Not because it had been perfect. But because it had been his call, and he’d made it count. He proved to himself and to the team that he could handle the responsibility, not just of being lieutenant, but whatever they decided to throw at him.
****
Tommy stepped out of the command centre and into the hallway, still damp, still gritty with salt, but lighter somehow.
J.J. and Kai were leaning against the wall near the lockers, both halfway through bottles of electrolytes. Blake was already shoving gear into the wash bins, humming off-key to something in his headphones.
“Look at that strut,” J.J. teased. “Mac give you a commendation or just her approval?”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “She said I adapted.”
Kai gave him a once-over and smirked. “Translation…you nailed it and she’s a proud mama bear.”
Tommy shook his head, but couldn’t fight the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re all delusional.”
Kai pointed his bottle at him. “Delusional is thinking Mac doesn’t have a favourite. We all know it’s you...Should Buck be jealous?” he teased
“Wait... You and Buck are back together?” J.J. gasped dramatically, nearly dropping her drink.
Tommy snorted, but before he could fire back, Harper’s voice crackled over the speakers:
“Lieutenant Kinard, report to ops. Confirmed airlift needed… injured hiker, canyon trail, unstable terrain.”
“Saved by the bell,” he muttered, already turning. His boots hit the hall in a rhythm that felt like muscle memory.
“I know where you work!” J.J. called after him.
Tommy tossed a grin over his shoulder. “It’s not a secret!” he yelled back, laughter in his voice as he disappeared down the corridor.
The banter echoed behind him, trailing like warmth in the air. They were still giving him hell, but it wasn’t the kind that shut you out. It was the kind that pulled you in. That said: you’re one of us .
These weren’t just colleagues anymore. They were his team. His people.
He’d spent so long keeping walls up at the 118, not because he didn’t care, but because it hadn’t felt safe to be fully seen. But Harbour Station was different. It didn’t happen overnight. The 217 was a big house, with a wide scope and a constantly moving rhythm. It wasn’t easy to find steady ground with so many shifts, so many departments under one roof.
But over the past few months, something had shifted.
Maybe it was him. Maybe he was different after reconnecting with the 118. Maybe it was having Buck burst into his life. But whatever the reason, Tommy had found himself craving that kind of connection. The sense of belonging.
Today was just another example of how far they have come as a station, a joint drill between air and sea, they moved like a unit and then laughed like friends.
He picked up the pace down the hallway, heart already switching gears for the next rescue, but that thought stayed with him. He had somewhere he belonged.
****
Across town, Buck and Ravi were halfway through their post-workout cooldown, sprawled on the bench in the gym bay, damp with sweat and arguing over lunch options.
“Tacos,” Buck had said, stretching out his arms with a satisfied groan. “Always tacos. There’s no other acceptable answer.”
“There is literally every other type of food out there as an answer,” Ravi replied, unimpressed, swiping a towel across his neck. “Just ’cause you have a craving doesn’t mean the rest of us are beholden to your tortilla-based tyranny.”
Buck laughed, for a moment, it felt like things were normal again.
He hadn’t realized how much he needed that. The ease. The rhythm of it. Over the past few weeks, he and Ravi had settled into something solid, a routine during shift, the occasional post-call beer, shared playlists during gear checks. It wasn’t the same as before, nothing was, not really, but it was good. Comfortable in a way Buck hadn’t expected.
After everything with Eddie, and Bobby, and the creeping doubt that had curled itself around his place on the team, having someone in his corner, even quietly, meant more than he could say.
Before he could respond, the station tones dropped.
They were still smiling as they jogged toward the rig, towel slung around Buck’s neck, Ravi muttering something under his breath about “annoying preferences.”
Buck nudged him lightly as they climbed in, still riding the lightness of the moment, the ease that had crept into their shifts lately. Ravi had been a solid constant through it all. The post-workout chats, the shared silences, the easy companionship. It reminded Buck of what it used to feel like at the 118… before.
The dispatcher’s voice crackled to life as the truck pulled out of the bay.
“Engine 118, respond to public park disturbance. Loose horse, several minor injuries reported. Animal Control is en route.”
Buck blinked. “Did she just say... horse?”
“Yeah,” Ravi said flatly, already buckling in. “I swear, if there’s a clown involved, I’m quitting.”
Buck grinned. “Let me guess… childhood trauma, or just one too many late-night screenings of It ?”
Ravi shot him a look, thoroughly unimpressed. “You joke, but if a red balloon floats out of a storm drain, I will shove you in. No regrets.”
The scene at the park was chaos. Pastel tents sagged on broken poles, overturned tables scattered cupcakes like confetti, and a surprisingly elegant palomino was trotting in furious circles, tail lashing. Parents were yelling, kids crying, and somewhere nearby, the theme song to Dora the Explorer was still looping on a speaker.
Hen rushed over to start treating two guests, a sprained wrist and a nasty bruise, while Chim cursed under his breath at the dispatcher’s update: Animal Control was still stuck in traffic.
Buck stepped off the truck, gaze locked on the horse. He was already moving before Chim could stop him.
“No. Nope. Don’t even think about it,” Chim snapped. “You’ve got that look. The ‘I’m about to do something Buck-level dumb’ look.”
Buck barely turned. “I’m not being dumb. I’m being helpful.”
“Helpful gets you trampled by a 1,200-pound animal,” Chim muttered.
Buck heard them. He always heard them. The judgment. The frustration. It stung more than he let show. But he didn’t let it stop him, because this wasn’t reckless. He knew horses.
The truth was, he hadn’t thought about his time in Montana in years. He’d spent months mucking stalls and learning to ride. It had been a refuge then. And standing here now, tracking the horse’s panic, he felt that same flicker of clarity, the calmness that came with being around horses.
“Tell me you’re not about to cowboy this,” Hen muttered.
Buck didn’t answer. He was already easing around the edge of the chaos, movements slow and deliberate. The horse was scared, not aggressive. It was circling a collapsed cake table, hooves skidding in the grass.
He clicked his tongue, soft and steady, and tugged a length of cord from the gear bin, enough for a makeshift lead. Every step was measured. Focused. Kind.
Then the kids broke from the bounce house, laughing and yelling.
The horse spooked and bolted right toward Ravi.
“Oh shit—!” Ravi barely got out before being clipped and sent tumbling into the balloon arch, which immediately exploded in a rain of helium and rubber.
Buck flinched, but didn’t stop. He darted forward, cut off the horse’s escape, and dropped into a crouch.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
His voice was soft. The horse’s ears flicked. Its head lowered.
He slipped the rope around its neck, not pulling, just guiding. Just like he remembered. The horse followed. Twitchy but willing. By the time the handler returned, breathless and apologetic, Buck had the animal nearly loaded into the trailer.
As he made his way back to the truck, Buck spotted Ravi still brushing confetti from his hair, a string of popped balloon latex stuck to his jacket.
Buck burst out laughing as he took in the sight of Ravi, glitter-streaked, balloon confetti clinging to his jacket like he’d survived a birthday-themed explosion. He opened his mouth, halfway to a teasing quip…
“Seriously?” Chimney’s voice cut in, low and angry, as he stepped directly into Buck’s path.
Buck blinked, the laughter dying as quickly as it came.
“What the hell was that?” Chim barked. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Or worse, someone else could’ve.”
Buck didn’t flinch. “I knew what I was doing,” he said, voice even. “I worked on a ranch. I’ve handled horses before.”
Chim’s expression didn’t shift. “When are you going to stop playing hero, Buck?”
That landed harder than it should’ve.
The edge in Buck’s voice sharpened. “If I was trying to play hero, I would’ve mounted the other horse and lassoed this one from there. Gone full cowboy.” He held Chimney’s gaze. “I know what reckless is. That wasn’t it.”
He didn’t wait for a reply.
Buck turned, shoulders stiff, and climbed into the rig.
Did he really expect anything different?
He’d been keeping his head down. Following orders. Trying to stay in his lane. He’d hoped, maybe stupidly, that they were starting to see him for who he was now, not who he used to be.
But maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe to them, he’d always be the reckless one. The wildcard. The screw-up waiting to happen.
Behind him, Hen and Chim exchanged a look, guilt creeping in at the edges. And when Ravi jogged up to the truck, still tugging glitter from his hair, he paused just long enough to glance back at them.
“You know,” he said mildly, “maybe try assuming he knows what he’s doing. Just once.”
Then he climbed in after Buck, shutting the door behind them with a quiet finality.
****
The sky was streaked with soft pinks and golds casting long shadows across the counter where Buck stood slicing vegetables. The rhythmic thunk of the knife against the cutting board was steady, almost meditative, the kind of simple routine he’d come to rely on lately.
He rolled his shoulders, still sore from the day’s chaos, and adjusted the pan on the stove as it started to sizzle. Ravi had offered to grab a drink after shift, but Buck had passed. He’d wanted something quieter tonight. Though it had been entertaining trying to dodge Ravi’s questions about where he was staying now that Eddie was back. He and Tommy were very much keeping things to themselves, at least from the 118.
The soft jangle of keys at the door broke the silence. A second later, Tommy stepped in, hair still wind-swept, gear bag slung over one shoulder, smelling like something unmistakably Tommy, salt, engine oil, and the familiar trace of cologne that always lingered just long enough to feel like home.
“Something smells good,” he said, letting the door click shut behind him.
Buck glanced over his shoulder with a small smile. “It’s either the stir-fry or the refreshing smell of Eau de cheval from the call earlier today.”
Tommy grinned, toeing off his boots. “Definitely not horse shit.”
They fell into an easy rhythm, Buck cooking, Tommy leaning against the counter, trading stories from the day. Tommy’s account of the drill and how well it had gone had Buck whistling low, impressed. Buck’s version of the birthday party rescue had Tommy nearly choking on a sip of water.
“You’re telling me Ravi got taken out by balloons?” Tommy asked, eyes gleaming.
“Full-on balloon avalanche,” Buck confirmed, smirking. “It was... glorious.”
They ate on the couch, legs stretched out beneath the same blanket, plates balanced on their knees, a movie playing low in the background. Neither of them was really watching, not with the weight of the day behind them and the familiar pull between them quietly growing.
At some point, during a lull between scenes, Tommy’s foot nudged Buck’s beneath the blanket. A light touch, playful, testing. Buck didn’t hesitate, nudging back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Tommy shifted closer.
Slow. Deliberate. He set his half-finished plate on the table without a word, angling toward Buck, his fingers finding Buck’s thigh under the blanket, just a light graze at first, but it lingered, warm and sure.
Buck turned toward him, drawn by the gravity that always seemed to exist between them, quiet, undeniable. Tommy was already watching him, eyes dark and steady, wanting but patient.
Buck leaned in.
The kiss was unhurried, steady, the kind that built slow heat in its wake. Tommy’s hand slid up to cradle the back of Buck’s neck, thumb brushing just behind his ear. Buck shifted toward him, knees fitting between Tommy’s as their mouths moved together, deeper now, more certain.
Tommy’s fingers slipped beneath Buck’s shirt, brushing bare skin with just enough pressure to make Buck shiver. A low sound rumbled in Buck’s chest as he pressed in closer, and they sank deeper into the cushions, tangled and breathless.
Buck tipped forward and they toppled gently back, Buck catching himself with one arm just before he crushed Tommy beneath him. They laughed, quiet and close, noses brushing.
Their bodies slotted together with practiced ease, like they’d never really forgotten how.
Buck hovered just above Tommy, their foreheads nearly touching. Tommy’s hands roamed, up Buck’s back, down his sides, his thumbs grazing the curve of Buck’s hips through the soft cling of his t-shirt. Buck braced himself on one elbow, his other hand cradling Tommy’s jaw, thumb brushing slowly along the sweep of his cheekbone before he leaned in again, kissing him deeper, slower, with more intent.
Their hips shifted together instinctively, Buck pressing down just enough to draw a low, involuntary sound from both of them. Tommy’s breath hitched, his grip tightening, fingers sliding beneath Buck’s shirt to splay warm across his back. The heat between them built fast, heady and unrelenting, but not frantic. They moved in rhythm, the kind that came from knowing each other, from trust, from want that had never really gone away.
They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
It was all there in the touch. The press of mouths. The way their bodies arched and answered each other. The heat, the hunger, and the restraint.
Buck could feel how badly Tommy wanted him, could feel it in the rough exhale against his jaw, in the hands that clung to his waist, in the firm line of arousal pressed flush against his own. The way their hips rolled together, slow and seeking. This wasn’t about getting off. Not really.
It was about closeness. About anchoring. About needing someone, and being needed back.
Because even with everything in them aching to take it further… they were tired. Bone-deep, muscle-heavy, soul-worn tired. The kind of tired that dulled the edge of desire but left the ache intact, simmering just under the surface.
Eventually, Buck buried his face against Tommy’s neck, letting out a soft breath as their movements stilled. Tommy’s fingers stayed curled in his shirt, one knee hooked loosely around Buck’s thigh, holding him close.
Tommy’s voice was low, rough around the edges. “We’re pathetic.”
Buck huffed a soft laugh, nose brushing against his. “We’re tired.”
Tommy carded a hand through Buck’s hair, fingers lingering. “Same thing.”
Buck rolled off him slowly, reluctantly, settling at his side, but his arm didn’t move. He pulled Tommy close, tucked under his chin, heart still steadying.
Neither of them moved to get up.
Eventually, Tommy stood and stretched, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m going to grab a quick shower before bed,”
When Tommy disappeared upstairs, Buck stayed curled on the couch a moment longer, letting the quiet settle. The movie credits were rolling, the TV screen throwing soft light across the room. He reached for his bag beside the couch, rummaging for his phone charger.
His fingers brushed something. The envelope. Bobby’s letter.
He froze.
A quiet weight pressed down on his chest, ribs tightening with the familiar pang. He didn’t pull it out, just stared at the corner of it, where the flap had softened from being opened and folded too many times. The paper looked heavier than it was, like it carried more than words. Because it did.
Footsteps creaked softly across the upstairs landing, growing closer. Buck tucked the envelope back into the bag and zipped it closed just as Tommy reappeared, hair damp, face scrubbed clean, and sleep already tugging at his features.
Tommy slowed when he saw him. “You okay?”
Buck blinked up at him, caught in the low light, the echo of Bobby’s handwriting still lingering behind his eyes. He forced a small smile, sitting up a little straighter. “Yeah. Just spaced for a minute… must be more tired than I realized.”
Tommy’s gaze lingered, reading more than Buck meant to give away, but he didn’t push. Just reached out a hand and waited until Buck took it.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Bed’s warmer.”
Buck let himself be pulled to his feet. Upstairs, the lights were already dim, the quiet of the house wrapping around them like a blanket. He went through the motions of his nightly routine on autopilot.
He found Tommy already in bed, one arm thrown across the blanket. Without a word, Tommy reached for him and pulled him close the moment he slid under the covers, wrapping an arm snug around his middle, tucking him in with steady warmth.
“Time to shut your brain off, Evan,” Tommy murmured, voice already thick with sleep.
Buck swallowed, then let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Night, Tommy,” he whispered back, curling into him as his eyes drifted closed.
But his mind didn’t go quiet.
Notes:
No horses were harmed in the making of this chapter! I hope you enjoyed this one, did a little time jump, so we are officially passed the end of season 8 and the montage they showed at the end! I will not be calling Chim and Maddie's son Bobby, but Robbie, as that's just a no for me!
The scenes with the 217 were a lot of fun and had to add in a bit of humour to give you all a bit of a break from the angst. Next chapter is one of the heavier ones I've written so be prepared.
Thank you again for all the love and comments, I love hearing your theories, lots of fun things still to come as we move through Buck's grief and healing, and plenty of Tommy and Buck moments, including a little spice!
Always to hear thoughts xo
Chapter 12: All That Remains
Summary:
Buck’s grief edges closer to the surface after a difficult call and the weight of unspoken doubts. But with Tommy’s quiet support, he finally confronts what Bobby left behind.
Notes:
TW: This chapter deals heavily with loss and grief.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Buck jerked awake, gasping. Drenched in sweat, chest heaving, fists tangled tight in the sheets like he’d tried to claw his way out of something that had followed him.
For a second, he couldn’t breathe.
His heart hammered in his chest, vision still blurred by the ghost of it. Bobby’s body hitting the floor, the blood, the stillness. The way no one else had seen.
“Evan.”
Tommy’s voice, low and rough, cut through the dark. A hand found his chest, steady and grounding. “Hey. You’re okay. It was just a dream.”
Buck didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His mind flashed with the images he just lived.
The kitchen at Bobby and Athena’s was filled with light, golden and soft, but too still. The kind of warmth that didn’t come from life, but memory. The table was set, plates already stacked high with food. Athena was laughing at something Hen said, Chimney was nudging Eddie with a fork, teasing him about his mashed potatoes and Bobby… Bobby was at the stove, humming under his breath, apron tied at the waist like always. Buck stood in the doorway, taking it all in.
He stepped forward as Bobby turned and smiled. “You made it,” he said, voice low and warm like always.
“Sorry,” Buck replied, his own smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Got held up in traffic.”
Bobby just nodded and came closer, reaching out like he was about to pull Buck into a hug.
Then he coughed.
Once.
Then again… harder.
Buck froze.
Red speckled the corner of Bobby’s mouth. He swayed on his feet, grabbing the edge of the counter. Another cough. More blood. A wet, choking sound that made Buck’s stomach lurch.
“Bobby—?”
No answer.
Bobby’s knees buckled. His apron sagged. He collapsed backward, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
Buck moved, but it was like running through molasses. Like the floor was pulling him down, too.
By the time he reached him, Bobby was already still, crumpled and silent, eyes open but unseeing. His skin had turned an unnatural pallor, lips tinged blue. Blood foamed lightly at the corner of his mouth, staining the white of his apron.
Buck dropped to his knees, grabbed at him, “Come on, come on, Bobby, stay with me—”, but Bobby didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Buck’s hands were soaked. His fingers slipped against Bobby’s chest, searching for a pulse that wasn’t there.
All around them, the dinner went on.
Athena sipped her wine. Hen laughed at something on her phone. Chim and Eddie passed the breadbasket.
None of them looked over.
None of them saw.
Buck screamed.
Tommy’s hand found his chest, warm and steady, rubbing slow, calming circles like he could coax Buck’s panic out with touch alone. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “Just breathe, Evan. I’ve got you.”
Buck nodded, but it was shaky, reflexive, a gesture meant to end the moment before he could unravel in it. They sat like that for a few minutes, Tommy watchful, Buck silent.
“That was some dream,” Tommy said eventually, voice quiet. “Do you remember what it was about?”
Buck did. Every painstaking detail.
He remembered Bobby’s blood on his hands, remembered the sound of the body hitting tile, the way no one else in the room had even looked up. He remembered the cold weight of it, the helplessness, the scream that never left his throat.
But he couldn’t say that. Wouldn’t.
The nightmares had started to fade. Or at least, he thought they had. This one had hit harder. Too vivid. Too real. He didn’t want to drag it into the light. Didn’t want Tommy to carry it with him.
“No… I don’t remember,” Buck said, a little too fast, too flat.
“You sure?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes lingered, scanning Buck’s face like he could find the truth written there.
Buck nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” he said softly.
He pulled Buck gently toward him, guiding him down until Buck was curled against his chest, Tommy’s arms wrapping around him without hesitation. Buck let himself go, pressing his face into the hollow of Tommy’s collarbone. He listened to the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. Let the warmth settle over him like armour.
He wanted to sleep. To forget. To let it all fade into Tommy’s warmth and safety.
But he couldn’t.
Every time he blinked, he saw the blood.
So he stayed there, eyes open in the dark, breathing with Tommy, counting the seconds in Tommy’s heartbeat, counting the hours until morning.
****
The morning light crept in slowly, soft and golden through the half-drawn curtains, casting long lines across the foot of the bed. Buck hadn’t slept, not really. His eyes were dry, his body sore in that way that came from stillness, not rest.
Tommy stirred beside him, turning over with a low groan, hair a mess, sleep still clinging to his voice. “Hey,” he murmured, blinking at Buck. “You’re awake?”
Buck offered a tight smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Couldn’t really get back to sleep.”
Tommy sat up, rubbing a hand down his face. “You were—” He hesitated. “It was bad last night. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Buck said too quickly, already pushing the covers off. “It’s nothing. Probably just...something I ate. Or work. Or both.”
Tommy didn’t move. Just watched him. “Evan.”
“I said I’m fine.” Buck’s tone didn’t rise, but the words landed with a quiet finality. He reached for the t-shirt he’d tossed on the floor and tugged it on like armour.
Tommy looked like he wanted to press, but he didn’t. He nodded slowly, then glanced at the time on his phone. “I should get ready. Told the guys I’d be at the courts by nine.”
Buck just nodded and got up, heading to the bathroom without another word. When he returned, Tommy was still sitting there, watching him, like he didn’t know whether to stay or go.
“I’m gonna make some coffee,” Buck said, voice flat. “You want anything before you leave?”
Tommy sighed, like something inside him was pulling tight. “No. I’ll just grab a protein bar.”
Buck nodded and made his way downstairs.
The space between them felt loud. They’d had such a good night. Light, easy, playful... and now, Buck had gone and ruined it. Another nightmare. Another reminder that he wasn’t okay. That underneath all the trying, all the soft touches and second chances, he was still fractured. Still bleeding under the surface.
He didn’t know how to act around Tommy. Part of him wanted to confess everything, to crawl back upstairs, fall into Tommy’s arms, and just be held .
But that voice, the one that always whispered his darkest fears, kept him frozen. The one that said: you’re too much, you’re still broken, he’s going to leave again.
They were still fragile. Still rebuilding. And if Tommy really saw how bad it still was, the sleepless nights, the guilt, the ghosts, what if he walked away again? What if Buck ruined it, just by being himself?
He just wanted to stop hurting. To laugh and love without guilt. To breathe without that heavy, choking grief pressing down on every good thing.
Some days, it felt possible, but today was not one of those days.
****
Tommy had left quietly that morning, a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead, a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. A reminder that he was here, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Buck had felt it, the care, the concern, but also the weight of Tommy noticing the distance between them. The quiet ache of it hung between them like fog.
He hated that he could feel it and still couldn’t reach back. Something inside him had locked up again, and no matter how badly he wanted to move, to speak, to try, he couldn’t snap himself out of it.
The silence in the house felt too loud. So Buck decided he needed to move, to do something. Anything. He changed into workout clothes, not bothering to shower or eat, and made his way out to Tommy’s home gym.
He paused at the threshold, gaze sweeping the space like it might steady him. The concrete floor was covered in thick rubber mats, scuffed in places from footwork drills and dragging weights. One wall was lined with kettlebells and dumbbells, neatly arranged on an old industrial rack. Resistance bands looped from hooks beside a standing mirror, and a weight bench sat off to the side beneath a whiteboard with last week’s Muay Thai combo still scrawled across it in red marker.
A treadmill stood in the corner, facing a small mounted fan that barely cut through the rising heat. The air smelled faintly of sweat, Tiger Balm, and the worn leather of the heavy bag that hung from a reinforced steel beam in the centre of the room. It swayed slightly in the draft from the cracked garage door, like it was waiting for him.
Buck didn’t bother with music, he didn’t need noise.
He needed motion, something to outrun the pressure building in his chest. He needed release.
The treadmill whirred to life. His feet hit the belt, hard and rhythmic, until his lungs burned and his calves screamed. Buck moved like he was trying to outrun something, lungs burning, body trembling, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might tear through his chest.
He didn’t think. Didn’t stop. Didn’t let up.
Sweat soaked through his shirt and dripped from his jaw. His vision blurred, but he kept going, because if he stopped moving, it would all come rushing in again.
The silence.
The guilt.
The weight of Bobby’s death. The way the firehouse had hollowed out around him. The look in Eddie’s eyes the last time they’d truly spoken, sharp and furious, full of blame.
He dropped into push-ups until his arms shook beneath him. Moved to the weight bench and pressed until his shoulders burned. He pushed through the ache, through the nausea rising in his gut, until there was nothing left to feel but the fire in his lungs and the screaming in his muscles.
And then, finally, the bag.
He wrapped his hands, sloppily, his sweat already loosening the fabric before the first hit landed. But he didn’t care. He slammed his fists into the leather again and again.
He wasn’t thinking about form. He was thinking about Bobby bleeding out in the lab. About the team laughing at dinner in his dream, unaware, and unbothered by the death around them. About the unopened letter buried deep in his bag. About the fact that Buck didn’t know if he was more scared to see Eddie or to see himself in Eddie’s eyes.
He hit the bag again. Harder. Faster.
Something in his shoulder pulled, but he ignored it. His body was going numb, but his mind was screaming. Grief and shame and fear all jumbled into one indistinguishable blur.
He didn’t know when the first sob escaped.
Didn’t know when his arms finally gave out and he sank to the floor, a puddle of sweat and shaking limbs.
He just knew he was tired. Tired of hurting, of pretending he wasn’t, of holding himself together with silence and stubbornness while everything inside him cracked apart.
He stayed there on his knees, forehead pressed to the mat, shoulders shaking until the gym door creaked open behind him. Footsteps echoed behind him, fast, alarmed.
“Jesus Christ — ” Tommy dropped down beside him, breath catching hard. “Are you…are you hurt?”
Buck tried to push himself upright, muscles trembling, arms barely holding his weight. He managed to shift and slump back against the wall, head lolling, chest still heaving like he couldn’t quite get enough air.
“I’m fine,” he rasped.
Tommy stared at him, eyes wide, blazing. “No, you are definitely not fine.”
He stood for a second, then backed up, like he needed space just to breathe, one hand dragging down his face before tangling into his hair.
“Fuck...” Tommy muttered. He turned toward him again, voice dropping into something gutted and afraid. “Why?”
Buck didn’t answer, he couldn’t.
Tommy looked like he was caught between fury and panic. His fists clenched at his sides, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. “What the hell were you doing in here? You look like you were trying to destroy yourself.”
“I just needed to...” Buck said quietly, voice hollow and worn down to thread. “Needed to feel something else.”
Tommy’s jaw tensed as his eyes glossed with emotion. “Jesus, Evan. This—” He waved a hand around the room, overwhelmed. “You… you can’t just—” He broke off.
Words failed him as the full weight of what he’d walked in on hit. Tommy’s shoulders sagged, like someone had just punched the wind out of him. He looked at Buck, really looked, and saw all of it.
The trembling hands, the glazed-over eyes, the sweat-drenched shirt. The bruising starting to bloom beneath the edges of the loose wraps.
“You’re scaring me, Evan,” Tommy said, his voice cracking as he sank down beside him. “What you were doing… that wasn’t a workout. That was—” he stopped, swallowed hard. “That was self-destruction. And I’m really worried about you.”
Buck turned his head slowly, eyes rimmed red, voice low and unraveling. “What do you want from me, Tommy?”
“I want you to talk to me,” Tommy snapped, the emotion bubbling up too fast to contain. “I want you to let me in. I thought we were doing okay. We agreed...we said we’d talk this time. No more silence. No more shutting down.”
Buck’s breath hitched, the words barely held together as grief and fury slammed into each other in his chest. “I’m trying, okay? I’m trying so hard. But I don’t know how to do this without Bobby. I don’t know who I am anymore. Everything feels wrong. I feel wrong.”
Tommy’s voice dropped, thick with desperation. “Then why the hell won’t you let me help?”
“Because I’m scared!” Buck shouted, the words ripping out of him before he could hold them back. “I’m scared that if I show you how bad it really is...how dark it gets...you’ll leave again!”
The silence that followed was sharp, it echoed between them like a slap.
Tommy’s shoulders dropped, the heat draining from his face, from his voice. His anger bled into sorrow.
He edged closer, eyes soft with something Buck couldn’t bear to look at.
“You think I’ll walk away again?” Tommy asked quietly.
Buck didn’t answer, he didn’t need to, his silence said everything.
Tommy dropped to his knees in front of him, voice rough. “I know I hurt you. And no amount of apologies is going to erase the fact that I fucked up. I got scared, and I ran. I know that.”
He swallowed hard. “But if I could take it back, I would. Every second of it. Because I didn’t leave because of you, I left because of me. And I came back for a reason, Evan. I came back for you. Because I wanted to be with you.”
His voice softened, more vulnerable now. “Not for the version of you you try to play off to everyone. Not the one who puts on a brave face at work. I came back for you. All of you. Even the parts you think no one wants.”
Buck’s voice cracked. “And what if I’m too much?”
“You’re not,” Tommy said, fierce now. “You’re not too much. You’re still grieving. You’re exhausted. And you’ve been trying to carry all of this alone, and it’s killing you.”
Buck let his head drop, body curling in on itself. “I don’t know how to stop.”
“You don’t think I’ve seen you break?” Tommy asked softly.
Buck looked up, confused.
“I saw you…” Tommy began, his voice barely above a whisper. “On the monitors. That night. When Bobby died.”
Buck blinked, the breath catching in his throat.
“I saw you exit the lab,” Tommy continued, voice tinged with grief. “I saw the moment it hit you...that Bobby was dying, and there wasn’t anything you could do to save him. I saw the pain break out of you as you collapsed on the floor, heartbroken. Alone.”
Buck said nothing. He couldn’t.
“And you know what I did after that?” Tommy asked.
Buck knew. But he couldn’t say it.
“I found you coming out of the lab,” Tommy said gently. “And I held you up until I got you home. I didn’t break. I didn’t bend. I gave you everything I had, every ounce of strength, even though my heart was breaking too. For Bobby. For the 118. For you . But I wasn’t going to let you fall.”
A choked sob escaped Buck’s throat at Tommy’s words and Tommy didn’t hesitate as he reached for him and pulled him into his arms.
“You’ve just got to let me in,” he said softly. “You have to let me help you carry some of that weight.”
He gave a quiet, broken laugh. “I’ve got big shoulders, you know. I can take a lot… Just...don’t shut me out, Evan. I don’t—” His voice faltered. “I can’t lose you.”
And that was it. The dam Buck had been holding back for months finally gave way.
Everything he’d been carrying, the pain, the fear, the guilt, the helplessness, came pouring out of him as he sobbed into Tommy’s chest.
And Tommy held him through all of it. He didn’t ask him to stop or try to fix it. He just stayed there, whispering quiet words of comfort, grounding him with steady hands and unwavering presence.
And Buck, for the first time, maybe ever, let himself be seen. Let himself fall apart in front of someone.. And Tommy...he didn’t look away.
****
Buck stood at the side of the engine, a rag in one hand and a pressure gauge in the other, pretending to check the hose lines. He’d already gone over them once, maybe twice, but his hands needed something to do. Something routine. Something that didn’t require thinking.
He wiped the same section of the nozzle again and let his gaze drift.
Laughter floated in from the kitchen. Familiar. Easy. Eddie’s laugh stood out, just a little too loud, like he was trying to fill a space with it.
Buck exhaled slowly and turned his focus back to the hose, hands moving on autopilot as his mind slipped backward.
He’d stood at the sink, nursing a cup of coffee, trying to quiet the nervous buzz in his chest. The kitchen was still, warm with early light, but his stomach felt tight, coiled.
“You sure you want to go in today?” Tommy asked gently, voice still rough with sleep.
Buck didn’t look up right away. “Yeah… I have to.”
Then he glanced over, voice flat but steady. “I can’t avoid it forever. Especially with it being Eddie’s first shift back.”
Tommy nodded, but his eyes didn’t hide their concern. “Just… be kind to yourself, okay?”
Buck offered a crooked smile. “I’ll try.”
Tommy stepped closer. “Text me if you need to. I’ll respond right away, unless I’m on a call.”
Buck leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against Tommy’s for a long, still moment.
It had been an emotional morning for him. He felt lighter somehow, like a weight had been lifted, but he also felt raw, exposed, like he’d been ripped open.
He knew he probably should have called in, but it was Eddie’s first shift back, and the last thing Buck needed was anyone asking why he wasn’t there. The looks. The questions. The comments he knew would follow.
He’d rather muscle through the day than give anyone more reason to talk.
Which was why he’d plastered on a smile when Eddie walked through the bay doors earlier, the familiar sound of his boots echoing against the concrete. There was a moment when everyone turned to look. Hen grinned wide, Chimney clapped Eddie on the back, and the whole station seemed to shift a little closer, like gravity pulling around a centre point. Eddie was back, and the room tilted toward him the way it always had.
Buck stood a little to the side, unsure if he should move or wait, but Eddie made the choice for him, striding over with that easy, familiar smile and pulling him into a hug like nothing had changed.
“Good to see you, man,” Eddie said, stepping in without hesitation, voice pitched low with something Buck didn’t want to name. His arm came around Buck’s shoulders in a familiar loop.
Buck responded by reflex, his own arms wrapping around Eddie, the way they used to. The way his body still remembered how to do. “Yeah… you too,” he murmured, barely above the thrum of air compressors cycling in the bay.
The laugh that followed escaped before he could stop it. Light, brittle, and entirely wrong. It cracked in the middle, and Buck could feel the echo of it lingering between them. Eddie pulled back slowly, brows drawing in just slightly, like he’d caught it, but didn’t want to call it out. His eyes searched Buck’s face for half a beat too long before turning away. He didn’t press. He never did when it mattered.
The others absorbed Eddie instantly. The circle reformed around him, like muscle memory. Like nothing had changed.
Buck stood a few steps away, hands hanging loosely at his sides, the warmth from Eddie’s hug already fading like sunlight slipping through a closing door. He watched as Hen tugged Eddie further into the bay, her hand on his arm, her smile wide and bright in a way Buck hadn’t seen in weeks. Eddie grinned back, easy and open, shoulders relaxing into the moment as if nothing had cracked between them. Buck heard Chimney laugh at something Eddie said, them all back together like nothing had changed.
No one said anything about the way Buck had greeted Eddie. No one acknowledged the stilted beat between their words, the forced curve of Buck’s smile or the hollowness beneath it...but he felt it.
Hen’s glance, a quick flick of the eyes. Eddie’s shoulders, tight under the weight of unspoken things, like he wanted to turn back, to say something, to close the gap that had grown between them, but didn’t...Couldn’t.
The moment passed. The shift went on.
Buck turned away, back to the engine, back to the checklist he didn’t need, wiping his hands on a rag he couldn’t remember picking up. The voices behind him grew softer, blurred into background noise.
Moments later he heard soft footsteps behind him, lighter, familiar. He didn’t turn until Ravi’s voice cut through the haze.
“You know,” Ravi said casually, “I once got chased by a swan holding a bag of tortilla chips.”
Buck blinked, caught off guard. He looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, what?”
Ravi leaned his hip against the truck, holding up a bottle of water like a peace offering. “I was twelve. Lake Balboa. Thought I was fast. Turns out, swans? Unforgiving little bastards.”
Buck took the bottle, something close to a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Let me guess. It wanted the chips?”
“Oh, it got the chips,” Ravi said, mock-somber. “It got my dignity, too. My cousin still brings it up every family dinner.”
Buck huffed a soft laugh, more breath than voice, but it felt real. Or close enough.
“What brought on this sudden need to share this story?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up.
Ravi shrugged, unbothered. “You looked like you needed a laugh.”
Buck looked down at the bottle in his hand. His fingers tightened slightly around it. “Thanks,” he said, quiet but honest.
Ravi didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned his shoulder a little closer, but not too much. “I’ve got your back, Buck,” he said simply. “Whatever you need.”
Buck nodded once, throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to answer.
And then the station alarm blared to life, sharp, urgent, shattering the moment.
“Traffic collision with entrapment, Interstate 5 near Newhall Pass. Two vehicles involved.”
Chimney’s voice rang out before anyone else could speak. “Alright, let’s move!”
Everyone moved. Boots hit the concrete. Doors slammed open. Radios clipped into place.
As they climbed into the engine, Chimney turned back toward them, eyes scanning the crew, face lighting up as he caught Eddie’s eye.
“Gotta say, feels damn good to have the whole team back together,” Chimney said. “Let’s make Bobby proud, yeah?”
Eddie gave a small nod, that quiet half-smile of his tucked into the corner of his mouth. Hen clapped his shoulder once, firm and fond.
Buck just adjusted his gloves, kept his eyes on the road ahead.
****
The crash was bad, twisted metal strewn across the highway, broken glass glittering like ice beneath the harsh morning sun. One car was flipped on its side, the undercarriage torn open and leaking fluids. The other had crumpled around a guardrail, its front end nearly folded in on itself. The air was thick with the stench of gasoline, scorched rubber, and something coppery that turned Buck’s stomach.
A woman’s scream split the air, high, desperate, the sound raw enough to slice through the commotion. She thrashed against the arms of a bystander trying to hold her back, blood soaking through the sleeve of her blouse, her voice cracking around a name that Buck couldn’t make out. Her eyes were fixed on the crumpled car ahead, wreckage folded in on itself like crushed foil, smoke curling from the engine block.
“Buck and Ravi, we need to get in that car!” Chimney’s voice rang out over the noise, sharp and commanding.
Buck was already moving.
His boots crunched over debris as he veered toward the sedan, the acrid stench of leaking gasoline and scorched rubber thick in the air. The passenger side was a mangled mess, door warped, metal twisted like ribbon. The windshield looked like a spiderweb made of ice, every fracture catching the light.
He crouched low beside it, scanning fast. The driver was slumped forward against the seatbelt, head lolled to the side, barely breathing. His skin was pale, lips tinged grey, a long gash on his temple oozing blood that smeared across the steering wheel like war paint.
“Driver’s pinned,” Buck called out, forcing the steadiness into his voice even as his stomach turned. “Vitals are weak, he’s going to bleed out if we don’t get him out soon.”
Hen dropped beside him, already assessing. Her eyes flicked over the patient, then to the crushed frame of the car. She turned toward the team. “He won’t make it by ambulance. We’re going to need an airlift.”
Chimney didn’t hesitate, he was already on the radio, calling for helicopter evac. The sound of his voice was a grounding counterpoint to the chaos around them.
Hen turned back to Buck, snapping on her gloves as she unzipped the med bag. “You stabilize the head,” she said, calm but urgent. “I’ll get a line started.”
Buck shifted to comply, moving into position at the driver’s window, just as another figure dropped in beside him.
“I can take that,” Eddie said, voice low, steady.
Buck froze for half a second. He didn’t look at him, just nodded, jaw tight, and stepped back without a word.
He turned instead to Ravi, who was already coming up behind him. “Grab the extrication gear,” Buck said, voice clipped. “We’ve got to figure out how to get him out of here without making it worse.”
Ravi didn’t ask questions. He just nodded and jogged back toward the truck, fast and focused, lugging the extrication kit across his shoulder as he returned. He dropped to his knees beside Buck, already snapping on his gloves.
Buck didn’t pause. “We’ll wedge the ram under the dash, try to lift just enough to relieve pressure on his legs,” he said, voice low but urgent. “I think they’re crushed, we just can’t see it yet.”
Ravi nodded, opening the spreaders with practiced hands. “Let me try to get this panel loose first. We’ll see if we can shift the seat back a few inches before we lift.”
“Good. We need spinal precautions. If he slips even a little, we could lose him.”
They moved fast but methodically, working in sync. Ravi maneuvered the tool into the crumpled space between the console and the dash, angling carefully to avoid jostling the man’s torso. Buck guided his movements, bracing the neck with steady hands, sweat slick on his brow despite the chill in the air.
The spreaders groaned as the crushed steel gave way, but the seat didn’t budge much.
“Pupils sluggish,” Hen murmured, her voice tight as she leaned in closer with the penlight. “BP’s crashing. We’re losing him.”
Buck’s jaw clenched. “Try it from the base,” he muttered, shifting to adjust the pressure on the patient’s shoulders. “We need that seat to move…now.”
Ravi repositioned, his arms tense, focused entirely on the mechanics of the machine and the man bleeding out beneath their hands.
But a shadow loomed to the side.
“Angle’s wrong,” Eddie said, crouching just behind Ravi. “You’ll never get enough lift like that. Let me—”
“I’ve got it,” Ravi said without turning. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm.
Buck didn’t flinch, didn’t look up. But he felt the tension clamp tighter between his shoulder blades.
Eddie hesitated. “You’re going to lose the grip on that hinge if you keep going from that angle.”
“I said... I’ve got it,” Ravi replied, steel sharpening in his voice.
Buck’s jaw flexed as he held the patient steady, fingers spread across the man’s temple and collarbone, trying not to imagine the state of the crushed legs below. Blood still oozed at a slow, dangerous pace.
A shudder passed through the frame as Ravi made a final adjustment, and then, with a slow whine of pressure, the dash shifted.
“Seat’s moving,” Ravi confirmed. “Another inch.”
“That's it,” Buck said, his voice tight. “We’ve got enough to slide him clear if we brace his lower spine.”
He nodded once at Ravi, who reached for the backboard. They worked as one, lifting, sliding, buckling the man into place. The driver groaned faintly, just enough to let them know time was running out.
Eddie hovered beside them again, hand half-raised. “Let me help steady the board—”
“I got it,” Ravi bit out. He glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn. “Seriously, man. I’ve got him.”
Buck didn’t say a word. But his hand tightened around the board’s handle as he met Chimney’s eyes across the wreckage.
Back him off.
Chimney caught the look, nodded and turned, “Eddie, go examine the other driver, make sure everyone involved is okay.”
Eddie hesitated just a beat too long before pushing to his feet and stalking off.
Buck exhaled slowly, turning back to the driver just as the wind began to shift, sharp and rising.
The low, rhythmic thump of helicopter blades churned the air around them. Loose debris skittered across the pavement. Sirens blurred into background noise as the rotors grew louder, closer.
The chopper dipped low, hovering with mechanical grace as it descended toward the makeshift landing zone. The moment the skids touched ground, Tommy was out alongside one of their aeromedics, stride purposeful, headset tucked beneath his arm.
Buck caught the look before he could stop himself.
It was quick, just a glance as Tommy jogged over in full gear, coordinating with the flight medic. Professional. Focused. But there was something else in his eyes, something softer. A silent question etched in the tight lines of his brow.
Are you okay?
Buck gave a nod.
Tommy didn’t press. He just turned toward the patient, helping the medic with the backboard as they maneuvered the injured man toward the stretcher and towards the helicopter. Tommy didn’t speak much, but gave a nod of acknowledgement to Hen and Chimney as he moved.
Within minutes, the patient was loaded, strapped in, and the rotor blades roared again, lifting dust and blood and exhaust into a swirling cloud around them.
Buck squinted against the wind, blinking grit from his eyes. He watched as the helicopter lifted off, Tommy just visible in the cockpit, headset back on, eyes forward.
Then they were gone.
The quiet that followed felt jarring.
Buck stood there for a moment longer than he needed to. His gloves were sticky with blood. His chest ached, not just from exertion, but from the weight of too many eyes on him. Watching. Judging. Worrying.
And Buck sighed, this was not what he needed today.
****
The engine door creaked as Buck swung it open, the clang of metal-on-metal echoing a little too loudly in the quiet aftermath. The adrenaline had faded, leaving a raw throb in his limbs, like every nerve was frayed. He peeled off his gloves slowly, fingers stiff with dried blood and cold air.
Behind him, the crunch of gravel under boots pulled his attention back.
Ravi approached quietly, helmet in hand, face damp with sweat and streaked with soot. His expression was calm, but the edges of it twitched, still processing, still keyed up from the call.
“You good?” Buck asked, voice low as he leaned against the rig. Not quite looking at him. “After... all that?”
Ravi tilted his head. “Yeah. You?”
Buck nodded, though it felt like a lie in his throat. He turned to face Ravi more fully, brow furrowed. “You handled that well. The pressure, the patient. Standing your ground with Eddie.”
Ravi gave a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was about ten seconds from decking him with the spreaders.”
Buck’s mouth quirked despite himself. “Would’ve been a hell of a headline.”
Ravi chuckled under his breath, then his voice softened. “Thanks. For backing me up. I know it was tense.”
“You didn’t need backup,” Buck said firmly. “You were right. You had it.” He clapped a hand to Ravi’s shoulder, letting it linger just a second longer than usual. “I’m proud of you.”
Ravi blinked, something unspoken flickering in his expression. Then he smiled, small and genuine. “That mean I’m not just the rookie anymore?”
Buck let out a tired breath that almost passed for a laugh. “You haven’t been for a while.”
They stood there for a beat longer, the silence less heavy this time. Then Ravi glanced over toward where the helicopter had disappeared into the sky.
“So was that weird?” he asked quietly. “Seeing Tommy again?”
Buck’s face tightened. He looked away, wiping his hands on a rag that didn’t help much. “Later,” he said, almost apologetically. “I just... not right now.”
Ravi nodded once, didn’t push. “Got it.”
Buck offered a faint smile of gratitude, then stepped away, ducking behind the rig toward the gear compartment. He needed to clean up, needed to move , do something before the buzzing in his chest overtook him.
He rounded the side of the truck, reaching for a canister of wipes, when he heard voices drifting from the other side of the bay.
He didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
Buck had only circled around the rig to rinse the blood off his gloves, maybe clear his head before rejoining the others. But the voices carried, low, familiar, unmistakable. Hen and Chimney, talking just out of sight near the open gear lockers.
He paused.
He should’ve kept walking. Should’ve made some noise. Should’ve done anything but stand there and listen. But the words rooted him in place.
“I’m just saying,” Hen murmured, not harsh, but with an edge of worry sharpened by the morning’s call, “something’s off. He’s been… distant. Cold, almost. And he’s never cold, not like this. It’s different now.”
“I know.” Chimney’s voice was tired. “I saw it too. He did his job, but, he’s not all there, Hen. He’s fraying.”
There was a pause. A sigh. The kind that came from people who’d seen too much, and still didn’t know what to do about it.
She hesitated. “Did you see how he was with Eddie this morning? Like he didn’t even know how to stand next to him anymore.”
Chimney didn’t answer right away. Buck could imagine him rubbing a hand over his face.
Hen kept going, quieter now. “Do you think he’s spiralling again?”
Buck’s chest tightened.
“Should we… I don’t know, ask for a wellness eval? Maybe even pull him from the field before something happens?”
Chimney’s answer was barely a whisper. “I don’t know.”
That was enough.
Buck stepped back, the scuff of his boot against the pavement louder than he meant.
The voices stopped immediately. Silence snapped between the rigs like a drawn breath.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t call attention to it. Just turned, walked slowly back to the engine, blood still drying beneath his fingernails and the ache in his chest pressing deeper with every step.
He climbed into his seat without a word, sinking into the leather with a weight that felt heavier than gear. The cabin was quiet, empty for now, but the murmur of conversation and the shuffle of boots across asphalt told him the others weren’t far behind.
He stared out the windshield, jaw tight, hands resting loosely in his lap.
He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. Not about what Hen said. Not about the way Chimney didn’t argue.
Not about the fact that, maybe, they weren’t entirely wrong.
But they also never actually talked to him, just about him, around him. Like he wasn’t standing right there. Like his silence meant permission.
He didn’t know how they’d gotten here. Normally, they would’ve found their way through this, chipped away at the cracks until the ground was solid again. But now? Buck didn’t know how to open up to them. And they didn’t seem all that interested in trying.
Observing from a distance was easier. Quicker to comment than to ask. Easier to question his stability than to check in.
The door beside him opened a moment later. Hen and Chimney climbed in without comment. Ravi followed a beat after, then Eddie. He just kept his eyes ahead. Quiet. Waiting for the engine to start. Waiting to go home.
****
Buck had come to look forward to evenings like this, quiet, easy, and filled with a kind of peace he hadn’t realized he was craving. When both he and Tommy were off shift, they settled into a rhythm that didn’t require effort. There was no pressure to be anywhere, no need to fill every silence with conversation or movement. Just the two of them, a glass of wine in hand, the low hum of the city softened by the distance of Tommy’s neighbourhood.
Out here, the quiet wasn’t oppressive. It was comforting.
Buck’s phone buzzed once against the armrest beside him. The vibration was subtle, but it snapped his attention away from the dusky sky.
He picked it up slowly, thumb hovering over the screen.
Maddie: I heard you saw Tommy yesterday. I’m here if you need to talk... Just… maybe avoid baking if you can.
Buck stared at it for a long time.
His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing slightly. Maddie always meant well, he didn’t doubt that. But when it came to Tommy, there was always a tone. Like she was waiting for him to freak out again. She never said it outright, but Buck could hear it in the pauses, in the carefully worded advice to stay busy, to move on, to not lose himself in something that looked too much like hope.
He didn’t know if she disliked Tommy, or if she truly believed she was protecting him. But either way, it stung, the implication that seeing Tommy was a risk. That he was so fragile he wouldn’t be able to handle even looking at Tommy without breaking.
It was part of the reason he and Tommy were keeping their reconciliation quiet. It was still new, but more importantly, it was theirs . Buck didn’t need outside commentary. He didn’t want another opinion shaping something he was finally starting to believe in again.
He locked the screen and set the phone face-down on the table with a little more force than necessary.
Tommy glanced over, eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”
Buck shook his head softly, more tired than upset. “Just Maddie,” he said, not offering more than that.
Tommy nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment before drifting back toward the fence line. He didn’t press. Even after everything the day before, he wasn’t asking for confessions or clarity, just offering quiet support. A calm, steady presence. Someone willing to hold space for Buck without needing to fill it. Someone willing to love him exactly as he was.
Buck was still learning to trust that.
Buck exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders eased, not all at once, but enough that he could feel it, the way it loosened something knotted tight inside him. The wind chimes on the porch stirred in the breeze, their soft clink breaking the stillness like a breath.
He wasn’t ready to talk about Maddie. Not tonight.
The silence between them stretched, soft and weighty, not uncomfortable, just waiting. Eventually, Buck set his glass down with a quiet clink and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, gaze fixed on a patch of garden where the moonlight skimmed over the stones.
“It was a rough shift,” he said quietly.
Tommy didn’t move, but angled his body slightly toward him, open, listening.
Buck’s voice came slow, like peeling back something tender and half-healed. “The call you responded to for us... it wasn’t great. I thought maybe, with everyone there, we’d find our rhythm again. That I’d feel more grounded. But it just felt worse. Off.”
He shook his head slightly, gaze distant. “Ravi was great, but Eddie came in like he had to take over. Like he didn’t trust us to handle it. And Hen and Chim… they looked at me like I might shatter if they said the wrong thing.”
He paused, throat working. “Afterward… I overheard them talking. They think I’m dangerous. Unpredictable. That maybe I shouldn’t even be on calls.”
Tommy didn’t speak right away. Just listened in that quiet, steady way he did, no judgment, no interruptions, just quiet observation.
Buck dragged a hand through his hair, fingers curling briefly into his scalp. “I know I’m not okay. But I’m trying. I show up, I do the work, I’ve gone to therapy, I keep trying to hold it together. And somehow, it’s either not enough or it’s too much. Like I’m stuck in this in-between place where everyone’s got an opinion, but no one actually asks what I need.”
He exhaled shakily, gaze fixed on the ground. “I don’t even know how to talk to them now. Like there’s a wall I can’t get past, and I don’t trust what’s waiting on the other side.”
He let the silence settle after that.
Then Tommy shifted, slow and deliberate, setting his own glass down. He leaned forward, voice low and thoughtful. “You’re not crazy for feeling stuck. You lost someone who grounded you. Who saw you and helped you see yourself. Of course you feel adrift. Of course it’s complicated.”
He paused, not for effect, but to choose his words carefully. “Grief doesn’t follow a script. And yours isn’t going to look like anyone else’s, not Eddie’s, not Hen’s, not Chim’s. They should know that by now.”
Buck said nothing, but his hands curled into loose fists.
“I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed in them,” Tommy added. “You’ve been through hell, and instead of meeting you where you are, they’re standing on the sidelines making calls about what you can or can’t handle. They’re talking about you instead of to you.”
Buck exhaled, the sound rough. “It hurts,” he admitted. “Bobby thought they’d need me. That I’d be the one to hold them together. But it’s like… the second he was gone, they didn’t want me. Didn’t need me.” He swallowed, looking down. “And when I needed someone, anyone, they just pulled away.”
He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his glass, watching the motion like it might settle the ache in his chest. “I know I should say something. Talk it out. But I don’t even know where to start. And right now? I don’t have it in me to fight for people who won’t even reach out a hand.”
The words hung there, heavier than the warm night air.
“I feel like I’m going backwards,” he added, quieter now. “And I don’t know how to move forward.”
Tommy didn’t speak right away. He shifted slightly, the creak of his chair the only sound between them. Then, without hesitation, he reached across the space, palm up, steady, patient, unwavering.
Buck’s gaze dropped to the offered hand. For a moment, he just looked at it. At the quiet certainty in the gesture. Then he reached out, fingers curling around Tommy’s like a lifeline.
“You’re already moving,” Tommy said, voice low and even. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it. You’re here. You’re showing up. Letting people in again, even when it hurts.”
His thumb brushed against Buck’s knuckles.
“That’s forward, Buck. Even if it’s messy. Even if no one else sees it yet.”
Buck looked down at their joined hands, his thumb brushing slow over Tommy’s knuckles. The ache in his chest didn’t vanish, but it eased, just slightly. Like a breath let out after being held too long.
They stayed like that for a while, quiet in the hush of the evening. The breeze stirred the hedges beyond the fence line, wind chimes swaying gently with a hollow clink. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, then went silent again.
Then Tommy shifted. He didn’t let go right away, just squeezed Buck’s hand once before rising to his feet and disappearing into the house without a word.
Buck didn’t move. Just stared ahead, brow furrowing faintly. He wasn’t sure what was happening until Tommy returned, something small and folded in his hand.
Buck’s breath caught.
Tommy knelt beside him, quiet and steady, and held out the envelope.
“I know you’ve been carrying this,” he said, voice low and sure. “And I know you’re scared to read it. But I think it’s time.”
Buck’s gaze dropped to the letter, worn at the edges from being moved, avoided, carried.
“You’re never going to be able to move forward if you don’t let yourself feel it first,” Tommy said. “Let him say goodbye. Let yourself say it too.”
Buck’s throat went tight, eyes burning. The pressure behind his ribs cracked open like a seam he’d been holding shut for weeks. He gave the smallest of nods, barely a motion, and reached for the letter with hands that weren’t quite steady.
Tommy leaned in, hand lifting gently to Buck’s cheek. Buck let himself lean back into the touch, their foreheads meeting in a quiet press of closeness that said more than words ever could.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tommy whispered. “Whatever’s in that letter… whatever it brings up… you don’t have to face it alone.”
Buck’s hand closed tighter around Tommy’s, anchoring himself there. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath.
“Okay.”
Tommy eased back without breaking the moment’s weight, returning to his chair without saying more. He gave Buck space, just enough to breathe, to open the letter, but stayed close enough that Buck could still feel him there, grounding and unshakable.
Buck sat still for a moment, the envelope resting in his lap like a live wire.
Then, slowly, he drew in a breath and opened Bobby’s letter.
Evan,
There’s no easy way to start something like this.
As first responders, we’re told to write these just in case, a goodbye to the people we love, to be opened if the worst happens. It’s a practical task, like checking your gear or reviewing protocol. But no one ever teaches you how to fit everything you want to say to someone you love into a few pages meant to outlive you.
I’ve tried before. Started and stopped more times than I can count. I kept asking myself, what could I possibly say that you don’t already know? What could be enough?
Truth is… I’m not sure there is, but I’m going to try anyway.
I didn’t expect you.
You came barrelling into the 118 like a wildfire, loud, relentless, a little chaotic, desperate to prove yourself. I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d last. Thought you’d flame out or move on. You were a spark without direction. And I didn’t know what to do with that.
But then you stayed. And something shifted.
Maybe it was you. Maybe it was me. Maybe we both changed.
But I got to see you grow, not just into a damn good firefighter, but into someone I depended on. Someone I trusted. Someone I loved.
You surprised me, Evan. Constantly. With your loyalty. With your heart. With your refusal to give up, even when things were hell. You pushed too hard sometimes, sure. But always with a kind of fire that reminded me why this work matters. You made me see the world differently, not just on calls, but outside of them too.
You weren’t just part of the team. You became part of me.
You became family.
I know that word has been a minefield for you, family. What it means, who gets to stay. But let me say this as clearly as I can, you didn’t have to earn your place with me. You already had it. You always did. Even when you couldn’t see it yet.
And if you’re holding this letter now… then I need you to carry something else, too.
You don’t need the 118 to define you.
It was home for both of us, yeah. But home isn’t a building. It’s not a patch on your shoulder. And no matter where you go or what you do, the ones who love you, truly love you, will still be there. That doesn’t go away when you walk out the station doors.
If someday you feel pulled in a new direction, go. Don’t stay out of guilt, or fear, or loyalty to me. Don’t shrink to fit inside a box that’s too small for the person you’re still becoming.
You’re not lost just because you’re in transition. You’re not failing just because you’re changing, and you’re never alone.
You have so much life ahead of you. So much love to give.
I know you’ve spent years afraid, afraid you’re too much. But I see you. I’ve always seen you. And I need you to believe what I know in my bones to be true. You are enough. You are brave, and kind, and infuriating, and extraordinary. You’re exactly what this world needs.
Don’t let the fear win. Love is out there. A life that fits is out there too. You just have to reach for it.
And when you do, whether it’s with someone unexpected, or in a new place, or in some quiet morning that feels like peace, I’ll be with you in it.
I prayed for you, Evan. Not because you needed fixing, never that. But because I wanted you to see yourself the way I see you.
As someone worth loving. Someone worth keeping. Someone who still has so much left to do in this world.
I wish I could’ve walked beside you a little longer. Seen where the road takes you, who you become. But if this letter is in your hands, then that means I don’t get that chance. So instead, I need you to carry this truth with you.
You were a gift I never saw coming, and one I never stopped being grateful for.
Loving you, guiding you… it was never a burden. It was one of the great honours of my life.
You changed me, Evan Buckley. You reminded me that family isn’t just given, it’s chosen.
And I chose you.Take the next step. Be bold. Be kind. Love hard.
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” — 2 Timothy 4:7
That’s how I tried to live. With love. With honour. With faith in the people I called family. It’s not goodbye, Evan. It’s a passing of the torch. My story ends here, but yours keeps going, and through you, a piece of me will too.
I love you, kid.
—Bobby
Buck let the letter fall into his lap and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Tommy’s shoulder, breath stuttering against the soft fabric of his shirt. The first sob hit hard, torn straight from his chest, and then another, and another.
Tommy didn’t speak. He didn’t try to hush him or pull him back. He just wrapped his arms around Buck and held on.
Buck clung to him like a man drowning. Fingers fisting in the back of Tommy’s shirt, arms wound tight around his waist as the grief finally cracked through him in full. All the pain he’d buried. All the love he didn’t know how to hold. The guilt. The longing. The heartbreak. He let it out in gasping sobs until his lungs burned and his hands shook.
“He’s really gone,” Buck choked out again, the words tearing from him like they’d been ripped loose. His voice was barely a whisper, fragile, broken, like a child crying out in the dark for someone who wasn’t coming. “He’s not coming back, and I—”
His breath caught, the rest of the sentence lost in the shudder of his body.
“I know,” Tommy whispered, voice rough with emotion, his cheek pressed to Buck’s temple. “I know.”
The wind stirred again, cool against tear-warmed skin. The wind chimes above them swayed with a soft, mournful clink, like the world itself was holding its breath. But Tommy didn’t move. Didn’t loosen his hold.
They sat like that for a long time, until Buck’s sobs began to soften, breath by breath. Until the cries became tremors, and the tremors faded into stillness.
Tommy eased back just enough to look at him. He brushed a damp strand of hair from Buck’s forehead, thumb lingering briefly against his temple. Buck’s face was tear-streaked, his eyes bloodshot, but there was something different in them now, some shift. Not lighter. Not healed. But like something inside him had uncoiled. A knot loosened. A breath released.
Buck drew in a jagged breath, barely more than a gasp. His voice cracked open around the words, hoarse, aching. “It hurts so fucking much, Tommy. I don’t know how to breathe through it.” His shoulders trembled.
His eyes were wide and wet, like a man trying not to drown in his own grief.
Tommy didn’t look away. Didn’t retreat from the anguish spilling out of him. He reached for Buck’s face, cupped it gently between both hands.
“You don’t have to know how,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to fix it or be okay. You just have to survive it. One breath at a time.”
Buck’s eyes squeezed shut, a fresh wave of tears spilling over.
Tommy rested his forehead against Buck’s, grounding him. “You’ll learn how to carry it,” he whispered. “Even when it feels impossible. And I’ll be here, every step, every fall, every time you forget how to stand. I’m not going anywhere.”
Buck’s lower lip trembled. He looked down at the letter still crumpled in his hand, thumb brushing over Bobby’s name like a prayer.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw but sure. “For being here.” The rest hung in the air, for loving me , unspoken, but heard all the same.
Tommy cupped his cheek again, and there was no hesitation in his reply.
“Always.”
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a labour of love to write, took me a while to get this where I wanted it, it was not easy to write and took an emotional toll, but I love how it turned out and is one of my favourite chapters I've written as it just spoke to me.
Thank you again for all the love and comments, love to hear what you this of this one!
xo
Chapter 13: Structural Fatigue
Summary:
Buck returns from a harrowing rescue to find that the weight he’s been carrying can’t be pushed aside any longer. A quiet confrontation forces long-buried truths to the surface.
Notes:
I am simply blown away by all the comments from the previous chapter! I'm so glad you enjoyed it (and apologies to everyone I made cry). I promise no tears this chapter, hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been two weeks since Buck fell apart reading Bobby’s letter, since Tommy held him through every ragged breath, every trembling sob that spilled out in the dark like something broken, finally giving way. And yet, in the days that followed, things had… levelled out. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But enough that Tommy could see the signs of life returning to Buck’s eyes.
From the outside, Buck looked better.
He was sleeping again, still restless, but better. Only one nightmare since the last. He smiled more. Laughed more. There were moments, whole minutes sometimes, where Tommy could almost believe Buck was back to his old self.
But grief was tricky like that. It never left all at once. It just found quieter places to live.
There were still days when Buck would drift, gaze caught somewhere far away, a memory of Bobby pulling him under for a breathless moment. But now, it didn’t bring him to his knees. Now, he could sit with it. Let it ache. Let it pass. There was a kind of strength in that, in the way Buck carried it, shoulders straighter than they’d been in months.
He was healing. Slowly. Quietly. In the way people did when no one was looking.
And that gave Tommy hope. That Buck would get through this. That they would get through this.
Tommy leaned against the kitchen doorway, sipping the last of his coffee, watching Buck try to jam a duffle bag into a moving box that was already half-split at the seams. His curls were a mess and he was muttering to himself about tape and gravity like they were conspiring against him personally.
“You’re going to rupture something,” Tommy said, voice low and amused.
Buck looked up, grinning. “I’ve fought fires and wrestled with snakes. I think I can take on a cardboard box.”
“You didn’t win against the snake. You chopped its head off,” Tommy reminded him.
Buck shrugged. “It was a moral victory... Wait, how do you know that?”
“If you don’t think that story made its way around the LAFD, you underestimate how much firefighters like to gossip.”
God, he was going to miss this.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to love the simple rhythm of living with Buck, even temporarily. The shared space, the easy mornings, the quiet presence of another heartbeat in the house. He’d lived alone for years, preferred it, even, but Buck had a way of filling the space that made it feel less like solitude and more like… life.
And now he was leaving.
Not far, at least. But the idea of going back to separate homes, of not seeing Buck’s toothbrush by the sink, or his cereal shoved behind the protein powder, left a dull ache in his chest.
He knew they weren’t ready to live together permanently. They still had things to work through, things to build. But the past few weeks had given him a glimpse, just enough to know what it could be like.
He took another sip of coffee to cover it.
“You packed the spatula, didn’t you?” Buck asked suddenly, looking genuinely horrified.
Tommy blinked. “You own one.”
“Yeah, but yours has that little angled edge.”
Tommy set the mug down. “Are you seriously trying to smuggle my spatula?”
Buck grinned. “You’ll get it back.”
“That’s what you said about my Eagles hoodie.”
“I maintain that possession is nine-tenths of the law,” Buck said, straightening up and brushing his hands on his sweatpants. “Besides, you like seeing me in it.”
Tommy didn’t deny it. He just shook his head and walked over, reaching past Buck to grab the tape gun from the counter. Their fingers brushed, and for a second, everything slowed, just the two of them, surrounded by half-packed boxes and too many shared memories.
Tommy met his gaze. “You sure about this place?”
“Yeah,” Buck said quietly. “Feels like the right step. It’s a nice building, safe area, the place has character, and you know...” He hesitated, voice trailing off like he was nervous to put the rest into words.
Tommy nodded, not pushing.
He didn’t want to be selfish. He knew Buck needed space, to heal, to rebuild, to figure out what came next on his own terms. But God, he was going to miss waking up to the sound of Buck singing off-key in the shower, or finding random factoids stuck to the fridge with magnets, or falling asleep with Buck’s hand curled loosely in his.
It had been a glimpse, just a few borrowed weeks of something real. It was terrifying how easily Tommy could imagine a future like that...and how much he already wanted it.
Buck stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying the controlled chaos of the room. “I think I’m almost there. Just need to finish the bathroom.”
“Good,” Tommy said. “That gives us time.”
“For what?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “To enjoy our last few days together,” he said as he pulled Buck closer, his hand curling around the back of Buck’s neck. His mouth was on Buck’s before he could respond.
Buck made a soft sound, half sigh, half surprise, and then melted into it, all warm lips and eager pressure. His hands found Tommy’s hips like instinct, tugging him closer until there was nothing between them but heat. The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, Buck’s fingers digging into the hem of Tommy’s shirt, like he needed something to anchor him.
Tommy let himself sink into it, into him . Into the familiar shape of Buck’s mouth, the way he always tasted faintly like cinnamon gum and something sweeter he could never quite name. God, it had only been a few weeks, but somehow it already felt like muscle memory. Like he’d known this forever.
Buck tilted his head, chasing more, and Tommy felt it, the shift. The urgency. The ache. Buck’s hips rolled forward, subtle but unmistakable, and Tommy’s breath caught hard in his throat.
He pulled back just enough to look at him.
Buck’s pupils were blown, his lips kiss-bitten, his expression equal parts dazed and desperate. “You’re doing that thing again,” he said, voice hoarse.
Tommy arched a brow. “What thing?”
“That thing where you kiss me like that and then stop right when I’m—” Buck groaned as Tommy’s hand slid deliberately down his chest, just grazing the line of skin exposed by his too-loose t-shirt. “God, you’re such a tease .”
Tommy’s mouth twitched. “I’m not teasing.”
“You literally just—”
“I’m building anticipation,” Tommy murmured, leaning in until his lips ghosted over Buck’s ear. “I have something planned.”
Buck’s breath hitched audibly, his fingers tightening on Tommy’s waist. “Define planned .”
Tommy kissed just below his jaw, slow, deliberate, then pulled back, letting his fingers graze lower, just under the soft cotton waistband of Buck’s sweatpants. Just enough to tease. Just enough to make Buck’s hips jerk forward.
“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, voice low and steady. “After your shift. No interruptions. I promise.”
Buck made a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a full-body complaint, and dropped his forehead against Tommy’s collarbone. “You’re evil.”
Tommy hummed, smug and a little breathless himself. Because God , he wanted him. Right here, right now, on the floor if that’s what it came to. But he also wanted to make it count. No distractions. No early alarms. No emotional landmines between them. Just the two of them, skin to skin, for no reason other than wanting .
“And yet,” Tommy said, arms looping lazily around him, “you keep coming back.”
Buck made a high, frustrated noise and tugged Tommy forward again, kissing him like a dare. This one was messier, hungrier, all teeth and heat and fingers that clutched instead of coaxed. Tommy let it last, let himself feel all of it: Buck’s body pressed firm against his, the way his tongue slid lazily against his own, the little catch of breath when Tommy palmed his hip and tugged him in tighter.
But just when it threatened to tip too far, Tommy eased back again, heart thudding, mouth slick, eyes dark with want.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice rougher now, more promise than tease.
Buck laughed, low and breathless, but didn’t let go.
Tommy held him close, nose brushing his temple, heart thudding harder than he’d admit. It would be easier to give in now, to let Buck drag him to the couch or the bedroom or the nearest horizontal surface, but not yet. He didn’t just want the heat. He wanted the intention . The kind of night where they didn’t just fall into each other, they chose each other.
****
Later that night, the bar was loud in all the right ways, a local spot tucked between a record store and a bike shop, with dim lighting, old concert posters plastered on the walls, and a rotating craft tap list that Jackson had started ranking in a shared spreadsheet Tommy refused to admit he also updated.
He’d taken Buck here once, weeks ago. Buck had come off shift with soot on his cheek and immediately launched into an impassioned rant about someone misquoting backdraft during a call. That memory alone had made Tommy order Buck’s favourite IPA without thinking.
Now, Buck was on shift, and Tommy was here without him, nursing that same IPA as he leaned into the booth across from Jackson and Sal.
“So,” Sal said, raising his eyebrows as he slid a tray of wings between them, “what’s new?”
Tommy snorted into his drink. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Jackson leaned back, the picture of smug satisfaction. “Come on, man. Don’t make us work for it. We already know you’ve been playing house with Buck for, what, a month now?”
Tommy tried to play it cool, but the heat crept up his neck anyway. “It was temporary.”
“Mmhmm,” Sal said, grinning. “And how’s that going for you? Surviving the Buck-isms?”
Tommy gave in and smiled. “He narrates his cooking. Out loud. Like he’s hosting a food show no one asked for.”
“Tell me you caught it on video.”
“Only once. He started explaining how to caramelize onions and then got distracted reading trivia off the side of a cereal box. I swear to God, it was like watching a chaos demon do performance art.”
That got a laugh out of both of them, loud and unfiltered. It felt good to laugh. To talk. To be here, with friends.
Jackson lifted his glass. “But seriously though, how are you doing?”
Tommy hesitated, the question catching him off guard in a way the teasing hadn’t. He let his gaze drift to the muted basketball game playing above the bar, then back down to the foam ring in his glass.
“I’m… good,” he said finally. “Or I’m getting there. Work’s steady. Buck’s, he’s doing better. Really. After… everything, he’s starting to find his footing again.”
Sal nodded, gentler now. “And you?”
Tommy exhaled slowly. “Honestly? It’s been… a lot. Living together wasn’t planned. But when it happened, it felt right. Easy. Like we just clicked back into place. And now he’s moving out, which is also the right call, but—” He paused, fingers tapping the side of his glass. “I think I let myself picture more than I meant to. And I’m scared I’m going to lose him again.”
Jackson tilted his head. “You’re not the same guy who walked away last time.”
“Yeah,” Sal added. “And Buck’s not the same either. You both went through hell. And you both chose to try again. That says something.”
Tommy nodded, throat tight. “I know. I just… I want to get it right this time. Not just because of how much he’s been through, but because I—” He cut himself off, then looked up, vulnerable and exposed in a way he didn’t usually let himself be. “Because I love him. And it scares the hell out of me.”
Jackson smiled. “Love’s always a risk. But with the right person, it’s worth it.”
Tommy huffed out a laugh. “Why do you always get philosophical after a few beers?”
“Because the first one is for loosening up, and the second one’s for clarity.” Jackson grinned. “And the third one’s usually for karaoke, so count your blessings.”
Sal raised his glass. “To love, risk, and chaotic cereal facts.”
Tommy clinked his glass against theirs, the smile lingering longer than it had in days. “To getting it right. Eventually.”
They ordered another round without really meaning to, Tommy’s IPA, Jackson’s dark lager that tasted like burned toast, and something hazy and citrusy for Sal that came in a glass entirely too fancy for a dive bar. The wings were mostly bones now, and the fries down to the last few crispy bits left.
“So, how’s life at the 217?” Sal asked, dragging a fry through a pool of hot sauce like he was conducting an experiment. “You guys still pretending to be Navy SEALs?”
Tommy arched a brow. “You’re just jealous you don’t get to jump out of things that move,” he said with a dry laugh. “Besides, I’m still a pilot most of the time, just with a few extra drills and the occasional rescue thrown in.”
He leaned back, letting his fingers drum lightly on the side of his glass. “It’s been nice to change things up. But I’m still happiest in the pilot seat.”
He smirked, “And getting to boss everyone else around for a change.”
Sal snorted. “So basically, it’s your dream job, flying expensive toys and yelling at people from above like some kind of sarcastic air god.”
Tommy raised his glass in mock salute. “And I make it look good.”
Jackson grinned. “Don’t encourage him. His ego won’t be able to fit in the cockpit.”
Tommy just raised his glass. “Speaking of airlifts, you’ll love this one.”
He leaned in slightly, tone shifting into storyteller mode. “Last week, we responded to a guy who flipped his jet ski and crashed into a pile of rocks. Only way to reach him was by helicopter. So I send Will down with Mila on standby, and Will is losing his damn mind.”
Jackson raised a brow. “Why?”
“We didn’t get it until the guy’s loaded into the helicopter,” Tommy said. “Dude is fully dressed as Jack Sparrow. Wig, eyeliner, pirate boots, the whole cursed ensemble.”
Sal blinked. “Like… deliberately?”
“Apparently it was some pirate-themed boat party,” Tommy said. “Except he never made it to the boat. Hit a wave trying to do a spin, went airborne, and slammed into the rocks like he was auditioning for Pirates of the Caribbean: Baywatch Edition .”
Jackson was wheezing. “Did he stay in character?”
“Didn’t break once,” Tommy said. “Tried to flirt with Mila while she was checking his vitals. Called her a ‘saucy wench of the skies.’ She nearly clocked him with the med kit.”
Sal shook his head, grinning. “God bless L.A.”
Tommy leaned back, soaking in the low buzz of the bar, the flicker of neon over scratched wood, the scrape of chairs, the clang of pint glasses, the low hum of a song that had probably been on the jukebox for a decade. Sal was mid-rant about their newest probie nearly backing the engine into a taco truck, while Jackson launched into a story involving a birthday party call and a flaming bouncy castle.
Their voices overlapped, tangling with laughter and the clatter of dishes, but Tommy let it all fade to background noise. He nursed the last of his beer, let himself drift, not far, just enough to feel the edges of something quieter settle in his chest.
This, this was the kind of night he never used to make time for. Not when he was stuck in his own head, always moving, always holding people at arm’s length because it felt safer that way.
But these guys had shown up when things got messy. When he’d been a complete wreck. When he didn’t have the words yet for what he was feeling, let alone how to say them out loud. And now? Now he could sit here and laugh about helicopter drills and never-ending rotation of probies and Jackson’s never-ending lineup of romantic disasters, and it didn’t feel like pretending. It felt like living.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this. The noise. The warmth. The feeling of not having to be on , not having to hold anything together. Just being around people who didn’t need anything from him except to show up and maybe steal a few fries.
It was strange, how quiet comfort could sneak up like that.
His phone buzzed once against his thigh, but he didn’t check it right away.
He already knew who it would be.
His phone buzzed again, but this time Tommy didn’t hesitate to check it.
Evan: Did you know lobsters taste with their legs?
Tommy blinked.
Evan: Not related to anything. Just thought you should know.
Evan: Hope you’re surviving Sal and Jackson. Still on shift. Mostly q-word... Miss you.
Tommy huffed out a quiet laugh, warmth settling low in his chest. Of course Buck had opened with a lobster fact. He could be running into a burning building and still find time to text weird trivia like it was a love language.
He didn’t answer right away, just let the message sit there on the screen for a moment. The absurdity, the sweetness, the quiet comfort of being known like that.
“You’re making that face again,” Sal said, pointing at him with a fry. “The one my dog gets when he doesn’t know if he’s excited or has to pee.”
Tommy flipped him off without looking.
Jackson leaned over, eyeing the phone. “Is this where we finally find out you’ve been sexting via spicy historical facts?”
Tommy slid the phone face-down on the table. “It was a lobster fact, actually.”
“Oh...baby that’s hot ,” Sal said, deadpan.
Tommy sipped his beer. “His crustacean facts make me weak in the knees.”
Jackson snorted, shaking his head. “If that’s what does it for you, man, you need help.”
Tommy decided it was time to change the subject. “I’m not the one who needs help,” he said, grinning. “Tell us again about the girl who made you take a BuzzFeed quiz to prove you were emotionally available before she’d go out with you?”
Sal nearly dropped his beer. “What was the quiz?”
“‘Which sad fruit are you,’” Tommy answered before Jackson could. “He got an overripe banana.”
Jackson groaned. “Why do I tell you things?”
“Because we’re your support system,” Sal said, grinning.
“Because you’re not as smart as you look,” Tommy added, already smirking.
The laughter came easily after that, loud and unfiltered. The kind that shook the table a little, that carried across the bar without apology.
Tommy leaned back, soaking it in. The comfort. The chaos. The way everything felt just a little lighter for once, and God help him... he was in love with a man who thought lobster facts were foreplay.
****
The shift had been slow. Suspiciously so. No calls yet, not even the usual false alarm from the Sunset apartment complex, or the guy down the block who kept locking himself out of his own house and insisting he needed to be “rescued.”
Buck wasn’t about to complain.
The stillness gave him time to breathe. Time to catch up on equipment checks, help Chimney run a drill with the new foam gear, and dodge another awkward half-conversation with Hen, the kind that started and ended with her watching him too closely, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the version that wouldn’t end in an argument.
Even Eddie had tried, in his own way.
They’d crossed paths by the rig earlier in the afternoon, both reaching for the same section of hose. They tried to make idle chit-chat, but it felt strained.
“Chris has been asking about you,” Eddie said, voice low but steady. “He misses you. He’s been disappointed you haven’t come by.”
Buck kept his focus on the hose, coiling it tighter than necessary. “Figured you guys were busy. Getting settled.”
“You don’t need an invitation,” Eddie said, sharper now. “You know that.”
Buck glanced over, just briefly. There were a dozen things he could have said to that. Half of them sharp, the other half too painful. But he let it drop.
“I appreciate that,” he said instead.
Eddie stared at him, waiting. Maybe hoping Buck would say more. Offer something. But Buck didn’t. He just gave a tight nod and turned back to the rig, his tone flat but even.
“I’ll text him. Set something up soon.”
“That’s not—” Eddie cut himself off, jaw tightening. “You don’t need to schedule time with him like he’s some obligation.”
Buck met his gaze, calm but unreadable. “That's not what I was doing and you know it. You know I love Chris. I just… I’ve been busy. I was giving you guys time to get settled.”
"Chris knows he can call me anytime and I will be there for him," he added, trying to keep his frustration at bay.
A moment of silence passed between them. Eddie looked like he wanted to push, like he was holding back a dozen things he didn’t know how to say without setting everything off again. The tension rolling off him in waves as his fists clenched at his sides.
Not wanting to make a scene, Buck just nodded once more and walked away, hands steady even if his heart wasn’t.
He’d made it through the rest of the afternoon without retreating into himself. He felt more settled with himself. Something he hadn’t felt in months. Like the pieces of himself weren’t constantly threatening to slide out of place.
Now, he was on the roof. Again.
A cup of tea rested warm in his hands, grounding him against the early evening chill. He stared out over the station lot, the city stretched hazy in the distance, and tried not to drift too far into memory.
He’d just sent a text to Tommy, a random lobster fact he’d picked up during one of his late-night deep dives into the weird corners of marine biology. It was the kind of thing only Tommy would appreciate. Or pretend to hate while secretly loving it. Buck didn’t expect a reply. Tommy was probably still at the bar with Jackson and Sal, caught in some ridiculous debate about best local breweries or which house had the worst probie.
It made Buck smile, being able to text Tommy whenever he wanted. No second-guessing. No holding back. Just a little ping of connection across the quiet ...even if it was just to say I miss you.
Footsteps creaked softly behind him, just enough to break the quiet without interrupting it.
“You know,” Buck said without looking, “for someone who is supposed to be light on their feet, you’re still somehow the loudest person on this roof.”
Ravi slid down beside him, bottle of water in hand. “One of these days I will sneak up on you.”
Buck huffed a quiet laugh. “Pretty sure I’d still hear you coming. It’s the dramatic pause at the top of the stairs that gives you away.”
“That’s called setting the tone ,” Ravi replied, taking a sip of water. “You wouldn’t appreciate the art of it.”
Buck gave him a sideways look, the edge of a smile pulling at his mouth. “Sure, Scorsese.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that had grown easier between them in the past few months. Ravi didn’t press, didn’t poke. Just let Buck be, which somehow made it easier to speak when he was ready.
“Didn’t get to ask earlier,” Buck said finally. “How are you doing? With, you know… everything.”
Ravi exhaled slowly, tilting his head like he was doing a quick self-assessment before answering. “Okay, I think. I mean, it’s not the same, but its been a bit better. I’m still trying to find my footing with Eddie, we hadn’t worked a lot together before.”
Buck nodded, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Yeah, I get that. He’s... got his way of doing things.”
“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Ravi said with a wry smile. “I like Eddie, don’t get me wrong, it’s just he makes me question myself, my place on the team. Like he’s waiting for an opening to push me aside.”
Buck let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
He rested the mug against his knee, fingers wrapped around the ceramic like it might help him hold the rest of himself together. “He does that. Not always intentionally. But… Eddie doesn’t like change.”
He huffed a short laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean, I don’t either, if I’m being honest.”
Ravi looked down, thumb tapping absently against the label on his water bottle. “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but… I don’t want to keep feeling like I have to earn the right to be here. Over and over again.”
Buck was quiet for a beat, then said, “You don’t.”
Ravi glanced up.
“You’ve earned it,” Buck said, voice steady. “You’re here because you belong here. Anyone who can’t see that? That’s on them, not you.”
Ravi looked at him, something shifting in his expression, part gratitude, part surprise. “Thanks. I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, so… it means a lot. Coming from you.”
Buck shrugged one shoulder, but there was softness behind the gesture. “You’ve had my back more times than I can count lately. Just doing the same.”
They let the silence settle again. Not heavy, not uncomfortable. Just real.
Ravi shifted slightly, nudging a pebble with the toe of his boot. “So… when’s the big move?”
Buck sighed, his breath fogging faintly in the cool night air. “This weekend.”
He didn’t sound entirely enthused, not unhappy, just... thoughtful.
In truth, he was looking forward to it. Having his own space again, a place that felt like his. Somewhere quiet, steady. But there was a part of him, a not-so-small part, that was going to miss living with Tommy. The past few weeks had brought them closer, steadier. With all the chaos of their jobs, coming home to each other had felt like something solid. Something safe.
They still had healing to do, from the grief, from the time apart, from the things they hadn’t said until recently. But those quiet nights, post-shift mornings, shared routines… they’d given Buck hope. That maybe, not too far from now, they’d get to build something more permanent.
“That’s exciting,” Ravi said, smiling. “Can’t wait to see it once you’re all moved in.”
“I’ll be sure to have you over when I’ve finished unpacking. Athena’s already claimed the first family dinner.”
Ravi’s brows lifted. “I figured you weren’t staying with Eddie, but I thought maybe you were crashing with Maddie and Chim.”
Buck shook his head. “Nah… I’ve actually been staying with Tommy.”
Ravi blinked. “With Tommy? Wait, are you guys... back together?”
“Yeah,” Buck said, and there was a softness to the word, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “It’s recent. Since after Bobby’s funeral. We talked. We worked through a lot. We decided to try again.”
“And?”
Buck huffed a quiet laugh, ducking his head. “And it’s been… really good. Better than I expected, honestly.”
Ravi grinned. “I’m so happy for you guys. I’ve been rooting for you idiots to figure it out since the beginning.”
“Yeah, well,” Buck said, smirking, “we finally pulled our heads out of our asses and had an actual conversation. It’s been almost three months now.”
“Three months?” Ravi blinked. “And you’re just telling me now?”
Buck shrugged, the smile still there but laced with a thread of vulnerability. “We wanted time. Space to figure out what this is…what we want it to be. We had a lot of stuff to work through. And I knew once it was out, people would have opinions.”
He exhaled slowly, watching the steam curl from his tea. “Being with Tommy… it makes me happy. And I guess I wanted to be selfish about that for a while. Just have it...without anyone else's noise.”
Ravi was quiet for a moment, then bumped his shoulder gently against Buck’s. “That’s not selfish, man. That’s protecting something that matters.”
Buck looked at him, something easing in his chest. “Thanks.”
Before either of them could say more, the roof hatch creaked open behind them.
Eddie’s head appeared, silhouetted against the glow of the station lights.
“Dinner’s ready,” he said after a minute.
His gaze flicked between them, Buck, sitting with his cup of tea still in hand, and Ravi leaning back, one ankle hooked over the other. Both relaxed...At ease.
Something flickered across Eddie’s face. Just for a second.
It was gone before Buck could name it. But he saw it. A flash of something sharp. Something cold.
And then it vanished, buried beneath that calm, steady mask Eddie wore.
“We’re coming,” Buck said, getting to his feet.
Ravi followed a second later. Neither of them said anything, but the shift in the air was undeniable.
****
The moment they hit the bottom of the stairs, the tones dropped.
“Structure fire reported, underground parking garage. Multiple civilians trapped.”
Buck didn’t have to look. Instinct kicked in… gear, rig, go.
The ride was tense and fast, sirens wailing, lights blurring past the windows. Chimney read from the dispatch screen, a car fire on level P4 of a five-storey underground garage. Smoke was already rising. No sprinklers had gone off. Multiple civilians trapped on different levels. Elevators down. Stairwells possibly blocked.
Hen scanned the layout on the rig’s tablet. “Levels go G through P4. If the fire started at the bottom, the smoke’s climbing like a chimney. It’s probably already hitting the top levels.”
“Sprinklers should’ve gone off,” Chimney muttered. “Why didn’t they?”
Buck adjusted his mask. “Could be a faulty sensor somewhere.”
They pulled up to chaos. Smoke poured from the garage entrance in thick waves, black and low. The scene felt wrong. Too much. Too fast.
Station 101 was already there. Their captain flagged them down, face streaked with soot.
“Fire’s active on P4,” he called. “Twelve cars fully engulfed, another ten have caught fire. We’ve cleared G and P1. Still got ten unaccounted for. Five are trapped in Stairwell C, someone jammed both doors, welded steel plating over the exterior access.”
“Sabotage?” Chimney asked.
“Looks like it,” the captain said. “Cutters are working, but visibility’s trash and heat’s climbing fast.”
Buck felt something cold twist in his gut. This wasn’t just a bad call.
“Alright,” Chimney said. “Hen, you’re with Eddie. Support 101, sweep P2 and P3. Prioritize evac. Open up ventilation on G level.”
Eddie stepped up. “I should go with Buck—”
“No,” Chimney cut in. “You’re with Hen.”
A beat passed. Not quite a challenge. Not quite agreement.
“Copy that,” Eddie muttered.
They split fast.
Buck, Ravi, and Chimney made for Stairwell B. The smoke thickened with every level they descended. By P2, the heat was rising. By P3, it felt like a furnace.
At the base of the stairwell was Mel Carter, a friend of Tommy’s he’d met a few times over the past few months, from 101 was waiting. Helmet down, gear already covered in soot, medic bag by her feet.
“Captain Han,” she said, then gave Buck a nod. “You’ll want to see this. Bring the breach saw.”
She didn’t explain. Just turned and led them forward.
They stepped into smoke that clung like oil, thick, acrid, alive. The door to P4 was a barricade of chaos: chains wrapped tight, welded in places; a rebar rod jammed through the emergency bar, its ends scorched black.
Buck took it in fast, expression hardening. “We’ll have to cut our way through. As soon as I’m done, we go in fast, search the level, figure out where to hit the flames from the stairwell lines. Mel, stay on the door and keep the venting steady. I don’t trust it not to seal on us again.”
Mel gave a sharp nod and moved without a word.
Chimney looked at Buck, curious as to why he seemed to familiar with Mel, but didn’t say anything as he handed Buck the saw.
Buck sliced through the metal, sparks screeching in the tight space. The door groaned, then gave way, and heat slammed into them like a wave.
“Smoke’s pulling from P4,” Buck said into his radio. “We need stairwell venting now. Get us some air.”
“Copy that. Venting in progress,” came a clipped response, someone he didn’t recognize, but didn’t have time to question.
They pushed through.
Once they got the door open, the scope of the fire hit them hard. A number of cars burned like torches. Flames curled along the ceiling in streaks that moved like breath. Midway down the row, a woman was sprawled on the concrete, coughing hard, too dazed to crawl.
“Victim right!” Buck called.
Chimney moved fast, crouching to lift her. He backed toward the stairwell with one arm under her shoulders as he dragged her to safety.
Buck pushed deeper. “Ravi…behind that third pillar. Another one.”
A teenager, pinned under a crumpled bumper.
“Ravi, with me. We need to get him out, fast.”
Together, they worked the pry tool under the twisted metal, bracing against the heat.
“Almost there... hold—”
A deafening crack overhead.
“Buck, move!” Chimney shouted.
A chunk of ceiling slammed onto the hood of a burning car. Buck hauled the kid clear just in time, shielding his head as debris scattered across the floor.
“We got him!” Ravi called.
They staggered back toward the stairwell, Mel holding the door open, Ravi hauling the gear, smoke chasing at their heels.
They exited the stairwell on P3, guiding the victims toward the ramp where paramedics waited with stretchers for easier transport.
Then came a crack, loud, sharp, wrong.
A shout followed, urgent and pained. They whipped around. One of the 101 firefighters had just hooked a charged hose line to the P3 hydrant when the line jerked violently. Something gave.
The second it connected to the water system, pressure surged, and with it, a deafening snap. The hose whipped sideways like a live wire as a section of the overhead conduit tore loose.
It crashed to the concrete in a rain of debris and dust, slamming into the firefighter’s leg. He collapsed with a cry, the hose flailing, water spraying in uncontrolled bursts from the damaged line.
“Shit…man down!” Buck shouted, already moving.
The hose flailed. Water hissed from the blown connection.
“P3… firefighter down! We need another medic!” Chimney yelled
The firefighter lay twisted, leg pinned by the collapsed pipe. His helmet had rolled off. Blood smeared the concrete.
Buck dropped to his knees. “Pulse is weak. Leg’s trapped.”
Mel was already there. “Hang on Lopez, we got you,” she said to her team mate. “We need to stop the bleeding first. Ravi…pressure bandage.” She directed as she passed him her med bag.
Eddie and Hen rushed down from the ramp with another gurney.
“What happened?” Hen asked, already dropping to her knees beside the downed firefighter.
“Part of the overhead water system came down on him,” Chimney said grimly. “Could’ve been heat.”
Eddie glanced up at the ceiling brackets. “Or stress fatigue. This place is old.”
Buck didn’t speak. But his eyes lingered on the snapped hardware, edges too clean, too sharp to be time or fire alone.
“We need to lift carefully, avoid nicking anything else,” he said, shifting into command. “Ravi, Eddie…lift the pipe. Mel, you and I will stabilize and pull. Hen, be ready to treat as soon as he’s clear.”
They moved fast.
Ravi and Eddie braced on opposite sides of the pipe. Mel crouched in with practiced ease, cinching the tourniquet. Buck slipped the C-collar into place.
“On three,” he said. “One… two… three.”
The pipe rose just enough. Buck guided the kid out clean.
“Got him!” Hen called, already pressing gauze to the bleeding as Chimney helped her roll him onto the board. They rushed him up the ramp to the waiting medics.
Buck held back for a second, chest heaving.
Across the garage, half-lost in smoke and flickering light, sat a toy firefighter. Watching.
A flicker of something passed through him, a faint memory. He couldn’t place it. But something about this call felt wrong.
****
Buck sat alone on the bench near the back of the bay, elbows resting on his knees, half-empty water bottle dangling loosely from one hand. The steam from his earlier shower still clung faintly to his skin, the ache in his muscles dulled but not gone. He’d gone through the motions, cleaned up, changed, even managed a few bites of food, but it all felt like muscle memory, detached from anything real.
The station buzzed faintly in the distance, radios clicking on and off, low laughter from the kitchen, boots across tile. It felt like background noise to a life he was no longer part of.
He heard Hen before he saw her. Her footsteps were measured, like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. She sat down beside him without a word.
“It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” she said eventually, voice quiet but pointed.
Buck didn’t look at her. His jaw flexed once. He wanted to say whose fault is that , but the words came out differently. “I’ve been here every shift, Hen.”
“Have you, though?” she asked, not unkindly. “Because it feels like you’re miles away from us.”
He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. “What did you expect? That I could just flip a switch and be fine? Get over losing Bobby like it was just another call?”
Hen didn’t answer.
Buck finally turned his head, just enough to meet her gaze. “You say I’ve been distant. I know I have. But I tried. After Bobby... I really tried to show up…even when I didn’t know how. Even when I could barely breathe.”
Hen opened her mouth, but he kept going.
“I showed up for this team. For you. For Chim. For Eddie.” Buck’s voice was steady, but there was something frayed at the edges. “I wasn’t perfect. I know that. Maybe I said the wrong things, maybe I made it harder sometimes. But I was trying.”
He let the silence sit for a moment before continuing, softer now. “And you—” his breath hitched, “you saw me struggling. I know you did.”
Hen didn’t argue. Just watched him, still and unreadable.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me. The way you talk when you think I’m not close enough to hear. You didn’t check in. You didn’t say anything. You just... watched.”
His gaze dropped for a second, then lifted again. “You judged me in silence, Hen. And that hurt more than anything else.”
He exhaled slowly, the weight of it all finally cresting. “I had to navigate all of this on my own. You had Chim, Karen, your family. You had people there to support you.”
He looked down at his hands, turning the water bottle slowly between his palms like he was trying to wring something out of it, the tension, the words, the weight.
“I stayed at Eddie’s,” he said quietly. “Tried not to be in the way. Came to work every shift, walked through those doors wondering if anyone actually saw me... if anyone cared.”
Hen still hadn’t spoken. He could feel her beside him, could sense she was listening, but he wasn’t sure she was really hearing him.
“When Bobby died,” Buck continued, voice flattening like something inside had settled into a truth too heavy to fight, “everything broke. For all of us. But I still came back. I stayed. Because I thought maybe... maybe I still had a place here.”
He didn’t look at her then. Just kept his eyes on his hands, waiting to feel something that resembled understanding, but knowing it probably wouldn’t come.
He swallowed hard. The words sat heavy in his throat, but he let them out anyway.
“But no one ever made me feel like I did.”
He paused, the weight of it settling between them. “You asked me to stay. But you left me standing on the edge. Alone.”
The silence that followed echoed louder than any words could.
“When you said you didn’t want to be captain, I supported you. Told you to do what felt right. I meant that.”
He turned to her then, eyes tired, not angry, just resigned. “It would’ve been nice if someone had said the same to me.”
Hen stared at him, stunned into silence at his words.
Buck stood slowly, he didn’t say anything else and he didn’t wait for a reply that he knew wasn’t coming.
He just walked away, boots quiet on the tile, leaving Hen behind on the bench, the silence louder than anything she might have said.
Notes:
Thank you again for all the love and comments, they truly made my heart happy! The last chapter was something very special and I loved hearing about how much you enjoyed it and all your theories!
What's this another fire toy? What is to come??? Hope you enjoyed this chapter, little light but also a much needed conversation with Hen and continuing the tension with Eddie.
Always love to heat what you think!
xo
Chapter 14: Combustion
Summary:
Between golden hour flights and unpacked boxes, Buck and Tommy find comfort in laughter, quiet confessions, and the strength of a love that's still unfolding.
Notes:
This is a little... well a lot on the spicy side, so you have been warned! Enjoy ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy moved quietly around the kitchen, trying not to clang the metal tongs too loudly as he transferred grilled chicken into a container. The pasta salad was already chilling, the fruit had been cut, and the mini cheesecake Buck liked, the one with the obnoxious strawberry swirl, was packed away in a cooler.
He’d been prepping for the last hour while Buck slept. Shift had clearly taken a lot out of him, he’d barely kicked off his boots before sinking into the couch and muttering, "Just need ten, promise." That had been three hours ago.
Tommy didn’t mind. Buck needed the rest. He’d looked drained in that particular way Tommy was starting to recognize, the kind that wasn’t just physical exhaustion, but emotional weight too. He hadn’t pressed. Buck had said they’d talk later, and Tommy believed him.
Still, he couldn’t help glancing toward the hallway every few minutes, listening for footsteps. Part of him itched to check on him again, but he’d learned by now that Buck came back better when he was given space first, then a soft landing to help him process.
The faint shuffle of movement finally reached him, a yawn, the creak of floorboards, then the slow, familiar steps of someone still waking up. Tommy didn’t turn around until he felt Buck’s presence behind him.
“You hum when you’re smug,” Buck said, voice still rough with sleep.
Tommy allowed himself a grin. There he is.
“I hum when I’m productive,” he countered, scooping the last of the pasta salad into a container.
“You hum when you’re hiding something,” Buck said, leaning on the doorway like he hadn’t just spent half the day unconscious. His hair was a mess. His shirt was wrinkled. He looked unfairly good, soft around the edges, like sleep had peeled back the last of his defenses.
“So,” Buck continued, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion, “what are you hiding?”
Tommy kept his back turned just long enough to smother the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll see.”
“You’ve been very secretive about this date,” Buck drawled.
“I’m a man of mystery.”
“Okay, Austin ,” Buck said, arms crossing. “It’s not another escape room, right? Because I love you, but if there’s even a chance of something jumping out at me—”
“Not an escape room.”
“It’s too late for goat yoga… You finally booked that pottery class. Ghost -style.”
“Tempting,” Tommy said dryly, “but no. Not this time.”
Buck let out an exaggerated sigh and stepped closer, leaning in to press a kiss to Tommy’s temple. “You know I hate surprises.”
“You say that,” Tommy replied, setting the last container into the cooler, “but your eyes light up like a kid every time.”
“Only when the surprise includes food…Or you shirtless. Or both.”
Tommy snorted and shook his head, fingers pausing at the cooler zipper. “You’re ridiculous.”
Buck’s grin softened into something quieter as he let his forehead rest lightly against Tommy’s shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.”
And damn it, Tommy couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed at that.
“Come on, just give me one clue.”
He felt Buck step closer, fingers brushing lightly against the small of his back, he glanced over his shoulder, met Buck’s eyes. “Helipad.”
Buck straightened. “Wait. Wait, seriously—?”
“Go change,” Tommy said, already biting back a grin.
Buck lit up, that familiar spark flickering bright behind his smile. It was the kind of expression Tommy hadn’t seen in weeks. Not fully. Not like this.
“God, I love when you’re smug.”
Tommy shook his head, nudging him toward the bedroom. “You’ll love it more if you hurry.”
Buck disappeared down the hall, already muttering about whether he should bring his aviators.
Tommy just shook his head, a laugh slipping out under his breath. His boyfriend was utterly ridiculous and he wouldn’t have him any other way.
Tommy wiped down the counter even though it didn’t need it. Twice. He wasn’t nervous, exactly. Just restless. Anticipation humming low in his chest, the way it always did before a flight, only this time it wasn’t about the mission, or the logistics, or the weight of someone else’s life in his hands. This time it was just about Buck. About giving him something good.
He glanced toward the hallway just as Buck reappeared, still rolling the sleeves of his button-down, damp hair tousled from the shower. He’d gone casual but put-together, a soft blue shirt and a pair of dark jeans that Tommy was almost certain he’d chosen because it matched his eyes and maybe for how well it framed his ass.
“Okay,” Buck said, arms out like he was presenting himself. “Do I look dateable, or do I need to change into something more Top Gun ?”
Tommy let his eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate. “You’ll do.”
Buck laughed, head shaking. “You have no idea how reassuring that is.”
“Oh, I do,” Tommy said, grabbing the cooler and his duffel. “Let’s go, Maverick, before you get the urge to bring back an ’80s fringe.”
They stepped out into the warm late afternoon, the last edge of sunlight slipping soft across the driveway. The cooler clinked as Tommy loaded it into the back of the truck. Buck climbed into the passenger seat with a little bounce in his step, sunglasses already perched on his nose like he’d been waiting all day to play co-pilot.
Tommy slid in beside him, started the engine, and without a word, reached across the console to lace their fingers together as he pulled out of the driveway.
****
The drive to the 217 didn’t take long, traffic was light, the kind of golden-hour calm that made the city feel slower, softer. As they pulled through the station gates, the familiar lineup of engines and rigs stretched out in the lot, but Tommy kept driving, weaving toward the back where their helicopter waited.
Buck whistled low under his breath. “Okay, I wasn’t sure if you were serious earlier, but… we’re actually taking one of the helicopters?”
Tommy cut the engine and grabbed the hangar keys for one of the off-duty birds. “I’ve got connections.”
Buck stepped out and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. His eyes were wide with that familiar mix of curiosity and wonder, like he was ten seconds away from asking how everything worked.
“This is insane,” he said, clearly delighted. “You’re insane.”
Tommy smirked and tossed him a headset. “Strap in, Evan. I’m just getting started.”
The wind picked up as they stepped onto the helipad, the blades of the idle chopper glinting faintly in the late-afternoon sun. Buck’s heart was already beating faster, part anticipation, part awe, and maybe a little bit because Tommy, all focused and confident, looked hot as hell in that pilot jacket.
He adjusted the headset over his ears, the static crackling for a second before Tommy’s voice cut in, warm and amused.
“Try not to touch too many buttons.”
Buck grinned, sinking into the passenger seat beside him. “No promises.”
Tommy started the pre-flight checks, fingers moving fast and practiced over the instrument panel. Buck watched him for a beat too long, the curve of his jaw, the way the late sun bled gold into the dark of his hair, the quiet concentration etched into his brow. He hadn’t seen Tommy this relaxed in weeks, and that alone made the whole night worth it.
Buck hadn’t said it out loud, but he’d been a little nervous about getting back into a helicopter. Not because he was afraid of flying, hell, he trusted Tommy more than anyone in the air, but because the last time they’d flown together had been chaos. A high-speed chase across the skies of L.A., trying to buy Athena time, praying Chimney would survive. Not knowing that their world would never be the same.
But sitting here now, headset snug, Tommy beside him, eyes fixed ahead, he didn’t feel dread. No tightness in his chest. No flashes of blood or smoke or helplessness. Just calm.
And something settled in Buck’s chest, like whatever storm they’d flown through had finally passed.
The chopper lifted slowly, smoothly, blades cutting through the sky with practiced ease. The 217 shrank below them, a patchwork of trucks and asphalt and steel. And then the city opened up, sprawled in soft yellows and burnished oranges, the haze catching the sun and turning the air into something molten and alive.
Buck let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“God,” he murmured, eyes wide. “You live up here.”
Tommy’s voice crackled through the headset, low and warm. “Not a bad view.”
They flew low for a while, weaving west through narrow canyons and over winding roads that Buck only half-recognized. The city thinned beneath them, rooftops giving way to ridges and brush, the Pacific a faint shimmer on the far edge of the horizon.
As they passed the last rise of Topanga, Tommy dipped the tail gently and tilted his chin toward the open expanse below.
“See that clearing? That’s where we’re headed. Just past Malibu Creek.”
Buck leaned closer to the window, breath catching. The land below was rugged and golden, dotted with oaks and edged by sandstone cliffs, like something out of a postcard or a dream.
“You’re kidding. We’re having a picnic there ?”
“Landing zone’s cleared with the rangers,” Tommy said with a wink. “Told you. I’ve got connections.”
Buck turned back to him, grinning. “You’re absolutely trying to seduce me.”
Tommy didn’t miss a beat. “Not trying. Succeeding. ”
And damn if Buck didn’t feel it, the hum of the engine beneath them, the altitude pressing close around his ribs, the way Tommy’s voice slid under his skin and pooled low in his stomach.
They flew in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the only sound the dull rush of wind and the occasional blip of radio static. Buck could feel the shift when Tommy’s hand slid off the control yoke and rested loosely on his thigh.
“Wanna fly?”
Buck blinked. “Wait. Seriously ?”
Tommy shrugged one shoulder, casual as hell. “I’ve got us trimmed out. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Define stupid.”
“Anything that gets me killed.”
Buck laughed, and Tommy guided his hands onto the controls, one at a time. The weight of them was heavier than Buck expected, responsive but firm. His pulse kicked harder.
Tommy leaned closer, voice lower now. “There you go. Gentle pressure. Just like that.”
“You giving me flight lessons or—”
“Focus, Evan.”
Buck swallowed hard. His hands steadied, and they tilted just slightly, banking toward the valley below. The sun hit the glass at just the right angle, casting a warm halo over everything.
Tommy adjusted one of the dials, his arm brushing against Buck’s. It wasn’t accidental. Neither was the way his fingers lingered when he reached for the mic.
Buck glanced over at him, sidelong, heart already pounding harder than the rotors. “This your idea of foreplay?”
Tommy’s smile was slow and dangerous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And just like that, the cockpit felt very small.
The tension stretched taut between them, bright and crackling, all nerves and want and unspoken promise. Buck’s fingers flexed on the controls, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know if it was the altitude or the man beside him, but he felt weightless.
“Okay,” Buck said, breath catching, “I’m officially turned on and terrified.”
“That’s the sweet spot,” Tommy said, grinning like the bastard he absolutely was.
Below them, the clearing opened up like a secret, a perfect, sun-warmed stretch of earth surrounded by nothing but hills and sky. As Tommy took back the controls and started their descent, Buck could already feel the heat simmering between them, the inevitable pull drawing tighter with every passing second.
He was pretty sure whatever they had planned for dinner was going to have to wait.
The landing was smooth, effortless in that way Tommy always made it look, like the air itself bent to his will. They touched down with a soft thud in the clearing, golden light filtering through the trees and turning everything it touched to amber.
Buck sat still for a moment, heart thudding, head full of adrenaline and something warmer, heavier. Something he didn’t quite have words for.
Tommy cut the engine, the blades whirring slower and slower until the only sounds were birdsong, rustling leaves, and the faint creak of cooling metal. He pulled off his headset and turned, watching Buck like he was trying to commit the moment to memory.
“What?” Buck asked, unbuckling his harness.
Tommy shrugged, eyes still on him. “You look happy.”
Buck blinked, then smiled. “I am.”
They climbed out of the chopper, and Tommy grabbed the cooler while Buck stretched, the breeze teasing at his shirt and ruffling his hair. The sun had dropped lower now, edging into that golden-hour glow that made everything feel cinematic. Unreal.
The picnic spot was already prepped, a blanket spread across the grass, a couple of throw pillows, lanterns tucked into the edges for when the light faded. It was private, quiet, and way too romantic for someone who claimed not to be a romantic.
Buck looked at it, then back at Tommy. “Okay, now I know you’re trying to get laid.”
Tommy set the cooler down. “If I said no… would you believe me?”
“Not for a second.”
Tommy didn’t deny it, just walked over, took Buck’s hand, and tugged him down onto the blanket beside him.
They ate lazily, stealing bites off each other’s plates, laughing between sips of chilled white wine Tommy had somehow managed to keep cold. Buck fed him a strawberry at one point just to be annoying, and Tommy retaliated by licking the juice from his thumb way too slowly to be innocent.
Conversation drifted. So did their bodies.
Somewhere between dessert and finishing off the wine, Buck ended up half in Tommy’s lap, one hand resting on Tommy’s knee. Tommy had leaned back on one arm, the other hand absently tracing patterns on Buck’s thigh.
The air was warm. The light was soft. And Buck was very aware of every inch of skin between them.
Tommy’s fingers skimmed up just a little higher. “You’re flushed,” he murmured.
"Sun," Buck said, breath catching. "Or maybe you."
“I like that I have that effect on you.”
Buck turned his head, met Tommy’s eyes, and there it was. The shift. That quiet drop in the atmosphere, the tension thickening between them like gravity finally pulling them in.
“You know,” Buck said, voice low, “I kind of hate how well you know me.”
Tommy leaned in, lips brushing against his jaw. “I love how well I know you.”
Buck turned to meet him, mouths barely grazing before Tommy closed the distance, slow, deliberate, a kiss that started soft and deepened quickly, hungrily. One hand fisted in the front of Tommy’s shirt. The other slid under the hem, fingers brushing bare skin, and Tommy made a sound in the back of his throat that sent heat straight through him.
When they broke apart, Buck’s chest was rising faster. “Can we…?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Tommy’s eyes were dark now, voice just rough enough to curl around Buck’s spine. “Blanket’s here for a reason.”
Buck grinned. “Told you you were trying to seduce me.”
Tommy’s hand slid up his back, under his shirt, splaying wide against his skin. “I’m not trying anymore.”
Tommy’s mouth was on him again before Buck could think, before he could second-guess the heat in his chest or the ache building low in his stomach. It wasn’t a kiss, it was a reclaiming.
Buck kissed him back with everything he had.
Clothes came off in desperation. Hands everywhere, gripping, pulling, fumbling with buttons that suddenly felt too small, too stubborn. Tommy’s fingers yanked Buck’s shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere behind them. He didn’t even look where it landed. Just pressed his palms flat against Buck’s bare chest, fingers splayed like he needed to memorize the map of him all over again.
Buck arched into it, gasping when Tommy’s mouth followed, hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat, his collarbone, the centre of his chest. Each one burned.
“Fuck, I missed you,” Tommy muttered against his skin, voice low and ragged. “I missed this.”
Buck’s hands trembled as they found the waistband of Tommy’s jeans, tugging at the button and zipper, his impatience for wanting Tommy making him fumble. “Then stop teasing me,” he said, voice already breaking, “and fuck me. ”
Tommy’s laugh was short, uneven, desperate. “Always so bossy.”
“I’ve been waiting ,” Buck said, pulling him in by the belt loops until their hips collided. He hissed at the friction, the pressure exactly where he needed it.
“So have I,” Tommy whispered, hand cradling Buck’s jaw as he kissed him again, this time slow, deep, unbearably tender. “Every damn day.”
The world blurred after that.
Tommy laid him back against the blanket, eyes never leaving Buck’s face as he reached into his bag and pulled out a condom and lube, setting them neatly to the side. There was something almost reverent in the way he moved, like he was trying to honour the weight of this moment, even through the burn of urgency pulsing between them.
Then his hands were back on Buck, slow and sure, undressing him with care until he was laid out beneath him, naked, hard, flushed with want.
Tommy’s hands were firm on his thighs, spreading him open like Buck was something precious, already his, always his. He trailed kisses down Buck’s chest, soft licks and teasing bites that made his skin spark, made him squirm. Tommy took his time, dragging his tongue along his sternum, over the sharp cut of his hipbone, until he was just a breath away from Buck’s cock, leaking and aching.
“Please,” Buck gasped, his back arching off the blanket, voice already wrecked. “Tommy, please—”
Tommy looked up at him, eyes blown wide, lips slick and flushed. He was panting too, but still holding onto a thread of control, just enough to push.
“I don’t know if you’re desperate enough yet,” he said, voice low and teasing, full of heat.
Buck’s voice cracked, raw and open. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Please... I want this. I want you. I need you.”
And that was it.
Tommy didn’t make him wait another second.
He licked a slow stripe along the underside of Buck’s cock, then wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, just enough pressure to make Buck’s hips jerk, to draw out a strangled moan from somewhere deep in his chest.
Then, without missing a beat, Tommy’s slicked finger pressed against him, gentle, slow, circling, before easing inside.
Buck gasped, fingers fisting in the blanket beneath him as sensation sparked through his spine. Tommy moved with unbearable precision, mouth working him with a careful rhythm while his finger moved deeper, curling, coaxing. It wasn’t just the touch, it was the way Tommy knew him, the way he watched his face for every shift, every gasp, every hitch of breath like he was reading him in real time.
When the second finger slid in, Buck was already trembling, thighs tensed, chest rising fast.
“Tommy—” Buck gasped, voice catching, already unraveling.
Tommy hummed around him, the vibration shooting straight through Buck’s core. He added a third finger, stretching him open slowly, purposefully, mouth still teasing the tip with infuriating patience. Buck was half-crazed with it, writhing, begging, lost to the feeling of being undone piece by piece by the man he’d missed in every way a person could be missed.
And when Tommy finally pulled off, slick and panting, fingers still working him open, he leaned in, close enough that their breath mingled, and kissed Buck, slow and steady. Then he pressed their foreheads together, grounding them both.
“Need to fuck you,” he said, voice wrecked, low, and full of everything he was feeling. Not just lust… need , ache.
Buck didn’t hesitate. He reached up, fisting his hand in the back of Tommy’s neck and dragging him into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and want. “Please,” he begged against his mouth, voice shaking. “Please, yes. ” As he rolled over and onto his knees, desperate for Tommy to be deep inside him.
Tommy barely got the condom on before he was on his knees again, hands sliding reverently down the backs of Buck’s thighs. He spread him open with both hands, gaze locked on him like Buck was something holy.
Buck could feel it, the slight tremble in Tommy’s fingers. He wasn’t the only one desperate.
Tommy lined up, slick and ready, and with a steady roll of his hips, pushed in, slow, deep, unforgivingly complete.
Buck’s head dropped forward with a groan, the stretch and burn of it grounding him, pulling him fully into the moment. Tommy didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, his hands gripping Buck’s hips tight like he was anchoring himself there, like if he let go, he might shatter.
“Oh my God —” Buck gasped, voice wrecked, legs nearly buckling beneath him. He pushed back against Tommy, desperate, raw, chasing more.
Tommy bent over him, chest pressing to Buck’s back, one arm snaking around his waist to hold him tighter, to pull him closer still. His other hand braced against the blanket for balance, fingers digging into the fabric. His breath came hot and uneven against Buck’s ear, each exhale a ragged moan, a curse, a promise.
“You feel so fucking good,” Tommy rasped, between bites at Buck’s shoulder, soft, then sharper, like he couldn’t decide whether to worship him or devour him. “Need you. . ”
Buck whimpered, one hand reaching back to claw at Tommy’s hip, needing contact, needing to feel .
Tommy’s rhythm was slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts that left Buck gasping, each one drawn out, like Tommy was trying to memorize every second of this. But it didn’t last.
Buck was too hot, too tight, too perfect around him, and whatever control Tommy had left began to fray fast. His pace quickened, rougher now, each thrust sharper, needier, driven by the months they’d spent apart and the ache that came with it.
Buck moaned into the blanket, pushing back to meet every snap of Tommy’s hips. “Fuck, yes …don’t stop…God, don’t stop— ”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Tommy growled, teeth scraping over the curve of Buck’s neck. “You hear me? I’m right here. I’m… fuck …I’m right here.”
And Buck believed him.
With every thrust. Every touch. Every sound.
It was messy and breathless and real , their bodies slamming together, slick with sweat, their moans echoing into the night air like confessions.
It wasn’t just sex. It was coming home.
Every thrust drove into him deeper, harder, Buck taking it all with open need, begging between gasps, for more, for faster, for Tommy not to stop.
"God, I love you like this," Tommy groaned, voice shaking as his rhythm faltered. "You're so fucking good. So perfect."
Buck cried out at that, something inside him breaking open with it, not just from the pleasure, which was unbearable now, but from the truth in it. He was unraveling from the inside out, and all he could do was feel.
He came first, shaking apart around Tommy with a desperate, broken sound, white-hot and overwhelming.
Tommy followed moments later, hips stuttering, breath catching as he buried himself deep one last time and let go, saying Buck’s name like a vow.
They stayed like that for a long moment, sweaty, tangled, wrecked, hearts pounding in sync, breaths ragged against flushed skin.
Buck wasn’t sure when he started crying, just a few silent tears slipping down his cheeks, but Tommy noticed. He always did.
“Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Buck nodded, throat too raw to speak. But the truth was right there in the way he pulled Tommy in and held him tight, in the way they didn’t need to say I love you to make it known.
Because this, all of this, was love.
Eventually, Tommy shifted just enough to pull out gently and collapse beside him, one arm still anchored tight across Buck’s chest.
Buck turned his head, found Tommy already watching him.
They didn’t speak for a moment. They didn’t have to.
Then Tommy reached over, brushed a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone, and whispered, “Still with me?”
Buck smiled, eyes soft, throat still raw. “More than ever.”
The sky was darker now, the sun long tucked behind the hills, and the first stars had begun to blink into view above them. Crickets had taken up their shift in the background, soft and steady, like nature was politely filling the silence they didn’t quite know how to break yet.
Buck lay on his back, arm slung over his eyes, the rest of him still a little too wrecked to move. His chest was slick with sweat and cooling too fast in the breeze, but he didn’t care. He felt loose. Unraveled. Rewired.
Beside him, Tommy shifted just enough to press a kiss to his shoulder before resting his chin there, head turned to look up at the stars too.
“You okay?” Tommy asked, voice low and warm.
Buck dropped his arm and turned his head, eyes meeting his in the dark. “Yeah. I think… I think I really am.”
Tommy searched his face like he was making sure, but whatever he saw there must’ve satisfied him, because he nodded and let his hand rest gently over Buck’s stomach.
Buck let his eyes drift upward again, the sky full of stars now, real stars, not the dim pinpricks hidden behind L.A. light pollution. These were sharp and clean and quiet. Like the sky was finally giving him space to breathe.
“I missed this,” Buck said, voice barely above a whisper. “Not just the sex. I mean…yeah, obviously that was—” He let out a breathless laugh. “ Incredible …but also just… this. Us. Feeling close again. Feeling wanted.”
Tommy didn’t speak right away. Just curled a little closer, resting his weight partially against Buck’s side like he could anchor him there.
“I never stopped wanting you,” he said finally. “Even when I walked away. Especially then. I just… I didn’t know how to come back.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Buck said softly.
“I know. I just—” Tommy’s fingers curled a little tighter against him. “You deserve to be told. Not just shown.”
Buck turned his head again, met his gaze. “You did both. You’re doing both.”
Tommy leaned in and kissed him again, not like earlier, not hungry or urgent, but certain . Buck let himself melt into it, let his hand drift up to rest against the side of Tommy’s neck.
When they pulled apart, Tommy exhaled, forehead still touching his.
“No regrets?” he asked.
Buck nodded. “About us? Yeah. A hundred times over.”
Tommy didn’t smile, but the quiet in his expression said everything. Relief.
They lay there for a long while, chests rising slow and steady, fingers loosely tangled, the stars spilling endlessly above them. And for the first time in months, Buck didn’t feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He just felt whole.
By the time they packed up the last of the picnic, the stars were still out, but the sky had shifted, deeper now, that stretch of indigo between sunset and full night. The temperature had dropped just enough to raise goosebumps on Buck’s arms, though he didn’t say anything.
Tommy noticed anyway.
He pulled a light jacket from the duffel and handed it over without a word. Buck slipped it on, warmth seeping into his chest that had nothing to do with the fabric. He smiled at the way Tommy just knew , always had.
Back at the chopper, Buck climbed into the passenger seat first, his movements slower now, a little sore in places he hadn’t felt in a while. Good sore. The kind that settled in deep. The kind that said this mattered.
Tommy followed a moment later, headset already in place. As he reached to adjust the control panel, his hand brushed Buck’s thigh, warm, steady, lingering just long enough to mean something.
The blades spun faster overhead, chopping through the still night air, and then they were rising, gently, effortlessly, into the sky.
Below them, the clearing faded into shadow, the hills stretching wide and quiet beneath. From up here, the world looked smaller. Softer. Forgivable.
And Buck… he couldn’t stop glancing sideways at the man beside him. Tommy, all focused lines and calm control, silhouetted by moonlight like something carved out of peace itself.
He reached out, slow, and let his fingers brush lightly over the back of Tommy’s hand where it rested near the throttle.
Tommy didn’t flinch. Just turned his hand palm-up, letting their fingers tangle loosely together.
They didn’t speak for a long time. Just sat like that, flying steady, hand in hand, the hum of the rotors and the open air the only soundtrack they needed.
Eventually, Tommy tilted the nose slightly, angling east toward the city. The lights of L.A. came into view, scattered and glittering, like someone had flung a handful of stars across the basin.
Buck leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this calm in a helicopter.”
Tommy glanced over, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Are you saying all your other rides with me were nerve-wracking?”
Buck let out a soft laugh. “You know what I mean.”
Tommy looked at him again, just briefly, but the amused glint in his eyes still made Buck’s stomach flip.
“I do,” Tommy said, voice quieter now. “I’m glad you feel that with me.”
Buck swallowed. His fingers tightened around Tommy’s, thumb brushing gently over the curve of his palm. “Always.”
They flew the rest of the way in that kind of silence. Full of everything they didn’t need to say out loud. And for once, Buck wasn’t waiting for it to fall apart.
He was just… exactly where he wanted to be.
****
By the time they made it back to Tommy’s place, Buck barely remembered closing the car door. His hands were on Tommy’s jacket before they even reached the front step, mouths crashing together like they’d been holding back all night and couldn’t wait another second.
Tommy fumbled with the lock, Buck’s breath hot against his neck as eager fingers slid beneath his shirt, greedy, familiar, his. The door finally gave, swinging open, and they stumbled through it like men possessed, laughing, biting, kissing like they could devour each other right there in the hallway.
The house was dark, but it didn’t matter. Buck had the layout memorized.
He shoved Tommy back against the wall, one arm braced beside his head, their bodies flush and buzzing. “You had your dessert,” Buck murmured, lips brushing Tommy’s ear. “Now I want mine.”
Tommy kissed him hard in response, already tugging Buck’s shirt over his head in one smooth, practiced motion. “Fuck… you’re trying to kill me.”
“Oh,” Buck breathed, pupils blown, voice low and wrecked, “but what a way to go.”
They barely made it past the bedroom door before Buck was backing Tommy onto the mattress, both of them half-undressed and frantic. Clothes hit the floor in a flurry, the gasps and muffled groans between kisses that turned sloppier, hungrier by the second.
Once they were both naked, Buck hovered over Tommy with a wicked smirk. His turn to play.
He kissed Tommy again, slow and deep, then trailed down his chest, stopping to bite and tug at each nipple until Tommy hissed, stomach tightening under Buck’s roaming hands. Locking eyes with him, Buck licked a slow, deliberate line down his torso, only to bite hard at his hip.
“Fuck!” Tommy yelped, his hands flying to Buck’s hair.
Buck looked up, all faux innocence. “Sorry… did that hurt?”
Tommy’s jaw clenched as he tugged at Buck’s hair. “That smart mouth is going to get you into trouble.”
Buck hummed, voice smug. “I like trouble.”
And before Tommy could respond, Buck swallowed him down in one smooth motion, deep enough to hit the back of his throat. Tommy’s hips jerked up instinctively, but Buck planted a firm hand on his thigh, holding him down. He was ravenous, driven by memory, want, and the need to watch Tommy fall apart beneath him.
He used everything he knew, every flick of tongue, every rhythm, every sensitive spot. What made Tommy gasp. What made him swear. What made his breath catch.
And when Tommy was close, shaking, leaking, panting, Buck pulled off.
Tommy’s head snapped up, eyes wide, flushed and furious and wrecked. Buck met his gaze and nearly came from the look alone.
“Please, Evan…” Tommy choked out. “Close.”
Buck curled a hand around him, squeezed, slow and firm. “Come,” he said, before lowering his mouth and sucking hard on the head.
Tommy’s body tensed and then unraveled.
“Fuck—” he groaned, as he spilled into Buck’s mouth. Buck moaned around him, swallowing it all, a hand splayed across Tommy’s thigh to ground them both.
“Jesus, Evan…” Tommy panted, chest rising fast.
Buck rose to his knees, his own cock flushed and leaking, already stroking himself with slick, practiced need. “I’ll never get enough of the taste of you,” he moaned, chasing the high, eyes locked on Tommy, ruined and radiant.
Tommy could only watch, breathless, as Buck worked himself closer.
“Fuck… Tommy,” Buck gasped, voice breaking as he came hard, spilling across Tommy’s stomach, thighs trembling with the force of it.
He collapsed against him, chests heaving, bodies slick and tangled in twisted sheets.
For a long moment, neither moved. Just skin to skin, sweat cooling. The rise and fall of their breath slowly syncing.
Tommy’s hand found Buck’s hair, carding through it lazily.
Buck let his eyes drift shut, the comfort of that touch anchoring him. “I don’t wanna move,” he murmured.
Tommy chuckled, low in his chest. “Then don’t.”
“We need a shower,” he countered.
“Tomorrow,” was all Tommy said as neither made an attempt to move.
Buck made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and pressed a kiss to Tommy’s collarbone before tucking his face there. “You’re warm.”
“You’re heavy,” Tommy teased, but his hand never stopped moving.
Buck smiled. “You love it.”
Tommy didn’t argue. Just let the quiet stretch out before asking, softer now, “You okay?”
Buck didn’t answer right away. His fingers traced idle shapes along Tommy’s ribs.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Perfect.”
Then Buck whispered, already on the edge of sleep, “Don’t let go.”
Tommy’s response was immediate, steady. “Never.”
They drifted off tangled together, under moonlight and the hush of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Home.
****
The sun was already high by the time they pulled into the lot outside Buck’s new apartment, an older industrial-style building that had been gutted and redone into sleek lofts. Exposed beams, oversized windows, ivy curling up one side of the brick exterior. It didn’t scream luxury, but it was beautiful in that unpolished, character-filled way Buck had fallen in love with.
He stood beside Tommy’s truck, sunglasses pushed up into his curls, arms folded as he looked up at the third floor. He’d signed the lease two weeks ago, toured it twice, checked the plumbing, tested the water pressure multiple times, but standing here now, keys in hand and sunlight warming the pavement, it finally felt real.
“Big space,” Tommy said, grabbing a box marked Bathroom Essentials from the truck bed and bumping the tailgate closed with his hip.
Buck shrugged, a little too casual. “It’s not huge. Just… open.”
It was more than that. One bedroom, but wide and bright, an L-shaped living space with tall ceilings, clean lines, and sunlight pouring through the terrace doors. The exposed brick wall gave it texture; the hardwood floors gave it warmth. There was a proper kitchen with real counter space, a barn-style door leading to the bedroom, and a bathroom just big enough for two people to brush their teeth without elbowing each other. A small terrace looked out over the city, not much of a view, but enough sky to feel like something.
The movers arrived not long after, bringing the rest of Buck’s things from storage. Within the hour, boxes were stacked along every wall, a mix of the practical and the sentimental. The floor was a mess of furniture parts, tools, bubble wrap, and half-drunk iced coffees. It was chaos. But it was his chaos.
Tommy reappeared in the kitchen, plugging in a power cord with his teeth clenched. “You sure this blender should go here?”
Buck glanced up from a box of mugs. “It works. Right?”
Tommy stepped back, eyeing the space. “You sound very HGTV right now.”
“I watched like six hours of apartment tours on YouTube. I’m basically a professional.”
Tommy smirked and crossed the room, arms looping around Buck’s waist. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re just jealous I have a system.”
“I’m jealous you have a box labelled Mugs - Main Characters Only .”
“It’s a really good system.”
“It’s barely a system,” Tommy muttered, but kissed him anyway.
A playlist kicked on not long after, music bouncing from the speaker perched on the kitchen counter. Something poppy and upbeat, the kind of song you pretended not to like but somehow knew every word to. Buck was elbow-deep in throw pillows when the beat changed and he froze, grin forming slowly.
“Oh, this one’s a classic.”
Tommy, who was midway through assembling the coffee table, glanced up warily. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You danced in the kitchen last week.”
“There was wine involved.”
“There’s endorphins involved now.”
Buck lobbed a pillow across the room. Tommy caught it with a grunt, and then, reluctantly, let Buck drag him to his feet. Their hands found each other easily, steps clumsy but coordinated as they spun in the wide open space between boxes. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, golden and soft, catching in their hair as they moved. Laughing. Spinning. Almost tripping over the couch legs. Neither of them cared.
By the time the song ended, Buck was breathless, Tommy’s arms loose around his waist, their bodies still swaying slightly in the quiet aftermath. It felt like something had shifted between them. They felt more settled. More at ease.
Buck rested his forehead against Tommy’s, his voice quieter now. “I know this is the right move. I need the space. We both do. But… I’m gonna miss waking up next to you.”
Tommy’s thumb brushed lightly along his cheek. “Me too.”
“It was good,” Buck said quietly. “Waking up next to you. Coming home to you.”
Tommy didn’t hesitate. “You’re still coming home to me. Even if we’ve got two different addresses now.”
Buck’s fingers tightened around his. “I just… don’t want to lose this.”
“You’re not,” Tommy said, steady and sure. “We’re not.” He laced their hands together fully, thumb brushing slow over Buck’s knuckles. “We’re just giving it space to grow. You’ve got your place, I’ve got mine. Doesn’t mean I won’t still be crashing on your couch, or your bed, five nights a week.”
“Five?” Buck asked, smiling through it. “That’s all I get?”
Tommy leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure. “Fine. Six. But only if I get to keep my good shampoo here.”
“Yours.”
“And the record player.”
“Absolutely.”
“And the hoodie you always steal.”
Buck grinned. “Finders keepers.”
They kissed again, slow and soft, like their mouths could say all the things their hearts were still figuring out.
Buck pulled back just enough to meet Tommy’s gaze. “Today was a good day,” he said quietly.
He still got sad when he thought about Bobby. That ache hadn’t vanished. But it didn’t hollow him out the way it used to. The grief was still there, coiled deep in his chest, but the sharpest edges had softened. And the good moments, like this one, were starting to happen more often. They didn’t erase the pain, but they brought something else with them. Joy. Peace. Hope.
He was healing. Still grieving, still learning how to live with the loss, but he was living.
By the time the sun dipped below the skyline, most of the boxes were still only half unpacked. The essentials had migrated to the kitchen island, takeout containers, napkins, two pairs of chopsticks, like a makeshift anchor in the middle of the mess.
Buck sat cross-legged on the couch, Tommy beside him, shoulder to shoulder. The noodle carton passed between them in companionable silence, the kind that needed no filling.
“You know,” Tommy said around a bite, “we still haven’t christened the couch. Or the shower. Or your bed.”
Buck gave him a look. “You have a one-track mind.”
“I like my track.”
Buck chuckled, leaning into his side. “Thanks. For today. For… everything.”
“Always,” Tommy said, mouth softening. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“I think I’m okay with that.”
The lights of the city flickered outside. The couch was unmade, the sheets still folded in a box, and neither of them cared. Buck stretched out, head resting on Tommy’s chest, listening to his heartbeat slow beneath him.
It didn’t feel like home yet, but in Tommy’s arms, Buck knew he was one step closer to that dream.
Notes:
Thank you for all the love on the last chapter, there is something afoot on the streets of LA.... what is going to happen?? So glad you are all enjoying my little suspense sub-plot! The twists and turns to come!
Buck finally got some things off his chest with Hen, I wanted to Buck's reaction to be grounded more in disappointment and hurt than explosive anger, not felt more genuine. Lots more still to come with the 118, but wanted to have a special moment just for Buck and Tommy, I hope you enjoyed this one and their romantic date night!
Always love to hear what you think!
xo
Chapter 15: Turnout
Summary:
A high-stakes rescue puts Buck’s instincts to the test, while a quiet conversation afterward opens the door to possibilities he hadn’t considered.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The apartment was quiet in a way Buck hadn’t quite gotten used to yet, full of unfamiliar noises, silence that didn’t settle the way it had in other places. The space still smelled faintly of fresh paint and cardboard.
Most of the essentials were in place. Kitchen mostly unpacked. Bed made. Toiletries in the right drawers. Clothes folded away. But the walls were still bare, the surfaces still sparse, like he hadn’t quite committed to calling it home yet.
He pulled back the flaps of one of the last boxes in the living room, paper rustling as he dug through to find a stack of old books, a ceramic dish he used to toss his keys into and a bundle of loose photos wrapped in tissue.
Buck hesitated.
He unwrapped them slowly. The first was of Maddie, years ago, grinning behind a tower of cupcakes at his birthday. The second was more recent, a photo from a 118 potluck. Bobby stood beside him, mid-laugh, arm slung over Buck’s shoulder like it belonged there. Buck remembered Hen snapping the picture, calling out, “Smile like you didn’t over-season the chilli again!” and Bobby’s dry, amused response: “He’s experimenting...the sign of a good chef.”
Buck traced the edge of the photo with his thumb. Bobby’s eyes were crinkled at the corners, his grin wide, warm, so very alive. God, he missed that smile. Missed the way Bobby had seen through him, the bravado, the flailing, the constant need to prove himself, and somehow gave him the quiet confidence to grow. To be something more.
Another photo lay beneath it, older. Early days at the 118. Buck in a too-clean turnout coat, baby-faced and grinning like he hadn’t yet learned the difference between adrenaline and confidence. Chimney had his arm slung around him. Hen stood in the background, half-smiling, skeptical. Bobby wasn’t in that one, but Buck remembered him being there.
He sat back against the side of the couch, photo still in hand, and let the wave hit.
This was what healing looked like, he guessed, not clean lines or closure, just learning to hold the weight a little differently. Bobby was gone. That ache wasn’t going anywhere. But moments like this, they didn’t knock him flat the way they used to. They just pressed in quietly. Reminding him of what he’d lost. Of what he was still trying to carry forward.
He closed his eyes. Bobby’s voice came back to him, a memory from a shift a year or two ago. They’d been cleaning equipment, idle conversation giving way to something heavier.
"You know, Buck," Bobby had said, tone dry but fond, "you’re not just a kid with a death wish anymore."
Buck had blinked, startled. “Gee, thanks?”
But Bobby had just shrugged. “You’re becoming the kind of man people trust. You’ve come a long way. Don’t ever doubt that.”
At the time, Buck hadn’t known what to do with that. Now… now he wished he could hear it again. Just once more.
The photo slipped into his lap. Buck stared at it for a long moment, the weight of it somehow heavier than paper should allow. Then he reached for his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say...just that he didn’t want to sit in the silence alone.
After a beat, he typed:
Evan: Found a photo from our last potluck at Bobby’s. I thought steam was going to come out of Hen’s ears when she didn’t realize how spicy the “special” chili was.
He stared at the screen, then added:
Evan: That was a good day.
The reply came quickly.
Tommy: Sounds like it. You and Bobby were lethal in the kitchen together... You doing okay?
Buck hesitated, eyes drifting back to the photo still in his lap.
Evan: Yeah... just a nice memory. Wanted to share.
Tommy: I’m glad you did. I like hearing about your happy memories.
Buck exhaled, some of the tightness in his chest easing, not gone, but softened.
Evan: Maddie’s coming over in a bit with the kids. Pretty sure she’s checking to make sure I’m not living in a hovel.
Tommy: Sister’s prerogative. But hey...baby cuddles.
Evan: Instant serotonin.
Evan: I just hope it’s a friendly visit and not an interrogation on behalf of Chim.
Tommy: Don’t be afraid to say something. Or set a boundary. She’s your sister and she loves you... but you don’t owe her more than you’re willing to give.
Buck sighed. Easier said than done.
Maddie had never been great with boundaries, especially when she was worried, and lately, it was starting to wear on him. He didn’t doubt her love. He never had. But sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if she truly saw him… or just the version she thought she knew. The one she expected. The one she wanted him to be.
Evan: I know. I’ll try.
Tommy: I’m here. Whatever you need.
Tommy: I’ve got beer, grilled cheese, and terrible TV queued for after your shift. Come over then?
Buck smiled faintly.
Evan: Sounds perfect. Blanket and cuddles included?
Tommy: Obviously. Even wore your second-favourite sweatshirt today....the one you thought you hid. So you can wear it when you get here.
Buck flushed, smile deepening. He hadn’t really thought about it until Tommy pointed it out, but… yeah. Wearing his boyfriend’s clothes was definitely a thing for him. It wasn’t something he ever had with anyone else, he couldn’t exactly steal hoodies from the women he dated. But with Tommy, it made his stomach flip in the best way. Part comfort, the scent of his cologne, the worn softness of the fabric, and part quiet thrill. A not-so-subtle reminder that he had a hot, ridiculously sexy boyfriend… and zero shame about flaunting it.
Evan: Had to keep a few essentials there. Including the snacks I hid in your kitchen.
Tommy: I found them. The peanut butter cups didn’t survive.
Buck huffed a quiet laugh and let his head fall back against the wall. Trust Tommy to know exactly how to make him laugh, especially when he needed it most.
Evan: I’ll see you after shift. Save me a corner of the couch.
Tommy: Always.
The conversation left a warmth in his chest that lingered, steadying. Buck set his phone aside and stood, stretching the stiffness from his back. The box still sat half-open beside the couch, but he left it for now. He padded into the kitchen, flicked on the kettle more out of habit than want. The apartment still echoed more than it should, too many hard surfaces, not enough lived-in comfort yet.
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the space. It wasn’t perfect, not yet. But it was his.
A soft knock came at the door, followed by the familiar sound of Jee’s high-pitched giggle and the unmistakable shuffle of a car seat being adjusted.
Buck exhaled slowly, smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt.
Showtime
****
He opened the door just as Jee was about to knock again, her little fist frozen mid-air.
“Uncle Buck!” she beamed, launching herself into his legs.
Buck laughed, crouching to wrap his arms around her. “Hey, Princess Jee. You get taller since I saw you last week?”
Jee pulled back and gave him a suspicious squint. “Mom says I’m a growth sprout.”
Buck laughed at the mix-up but didn’t correct her. “Well, that explains it,” he said with mock seriousness, ruffling her hair.
Maddie stood just behind her, smiling, eyes tired, but undeniably happy. She had the car seat balanced in one hand and a diaper bag slung over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she said. “Hope it’s okay we’re a few minutes early.”
“Yeah, of course,” Buck said, stepping aside quickly. “Come in.”
She brushed past him into the apartment, her gaze sweeping the space. Buck watched as her eyes flicked over the still-bare walls, the last of the unpacked boxes in the corner. She didn’t say anything.
He bent to take the car seat as she set it down, lifting it carefully and bringing it over to the counter so he could get a better look at his nephew.
“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his mouth as Robbie blinked up at him, tiny fists curled in sleep. “You ready to judge your uncle’s interior design choices?”
“He’s got discerning taste,” Maddie said dryly, dropping the diaper bag beside the couch. “Picky, that one.”
Buck huffed a laugh. “He just wants the finer things in life.”
Jee was already circling the room, narrating as she went: “That’s a couch. That’s the kitchen. Why don’t you have plants? Plants are nice.”
“I’ll get one,” Buck said, amused. “Maybe something low-maintenance.”
“You’ll forget to water it,” Maddie replied automatically.
He didn’t answer. Just offered a half-smile and leaned over to unbuckle Robbie, lifting him carefully into his arms.
For a moment, it was easy, his sister in his space. Kids underfoot. Laughter in the room. It was nice.
It didn’t take Jee long to make herself at home, she hopped onto the couch and began flipping through the TV menu like she owned the remote.
“It’s coming together,” she said after a moment. “Brighter than the old place. More grown-up.”
Buck offered a faint smile. “Still getting used to it. Trying to find a place for everything.” He glanced down at Robbie, gently bouncing him in his arms. “But… it’s home.”
He made a series of exaggerated faces at the baby, who seemed more interested in Buck’s nose than anything else.
She nodded. “It takes time to settle... but I’m glad you seem to have unpacked faster than last time.”
Buck exhaled through his nose but didn’t comment.
“Seems like you’re moving forward.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing…” Maddie said, too casually. “It’s just…since things ended with Tommy, you’ve been a little all over the place. And then with Bobby…” She paused. “It’s just nice to see you acting like your old self again.”
Buck froze.
The sad thing was… he wasn’t his old self. He doubted he ever would be again. Too much had happened. Too much had shifted inside him.
Maddie handed Jee a juice box as she sat down. “Like you’ve finally moved on from Tommy. Don’t get me wrong, he was a nice guy, but I guess I never really got it. You bounced back so fast from other relationships, but with him… I dunno. You were so off-kilter. It just didn’t make sense.”
Buck didn’t answer. Just stood there, her words landing low in his chest. Not with malice, but with certainty. Like it was obvious. Like Tommy had been a misstep. A phase. Not someone Buck had loved. Not the place he’d been building toward.
He swallowed, the weight of it pressing in. He’d thought Maddie understood. That Tommy had been different. Not just because he was the first guy Buck had dated, that was only part of it. Tommy was the first person who made Buck feel like he didn’t have to perform. Like being himself, fully, messily, was enough. More than enough.
“Do you really think that?” he asked, voice quiet but steady.
Maddie looked up from adjusting Robbie’s beanie, brow furrowing. “Think what?”
“That I forget Tommy.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “I just meant… things didn’t work out. You were hurting. I hated seeing you like that.”
“I know,” Buck said. And he did. “But that’s not really what you said.”
Maddie shifted on the couch, sitting up a little straighter. “I guess I meant… you needed a fresh start. It felt like you lost yourself for a while, trying to fit into that relationship. And after everything, after Bobby, the team stuff, I just want you happy. Okay? I want you okay.”
That phrase again, “fresh start.” Like he was a reset button someone could push whenever he got too messy.
Buck sighed and nodded slowly. “I get that.”
But the way his voice softened on the last word made her look at him again, more closely.
He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right way to say it. “It just… sometimes it feels like you’re more comfortable believing I’m okay than actually asking if I am.”
Maddie opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
“I didn’t lose myself with Tommy,” Buck continued, quieter now. “I found something. Something good. Maybe messy. Maybe not perfect. But it wasn’t a mistake.”
She looked at him then, and the guilt crept in around the edges of her expression.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was.”
“But you kind of did,” he said. Not angry. Just honest. Like touching an old bruise he hadn’t realized still ached. “I don’t need you to fix things for me, Maddie. I never did. I just… I need you to see me. Even when you don’t agree. Even when it’s not what you would’ve chosen. Just support me.”
“I do,” she tried to argue.
“Sometimes,” Buck allowed. “But other times… you’re quick to offer your opinion without really hearing mine.”
Silence stretched between them, filled by the soft murmur of cartoons from the TV. Jee didn’t notice the tension, too absorbed in making her muffin dinosaur devour a plastic zebra with dramatic flair.
Maddie shifted on the couch, her voice smaller now. “I’m sorry. If I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about things. About him.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. He just sat there, holding Robbie against his chest, breathing in the warmth and weight of something that still felt like home.
Eventually, he said softly, “I wanted to... I just didn’t think you’d get it.”
Maddie nodded, shame flickering in her eyes. “I’m trying. I’ll try harder.”
He glanced over, gave her a tired small and nodded. Not knowing what else to say. Time will tell if she heard him, understood him.
Buck turned his attention back to the kids, watching them with a soft smile. Jee was deep in a monologue about dinosaurs and juice boxes, and Robbie was still nestled quietly in his arms, warm and steady against his chest.
He knew he still had a ways to go with Maddie. And maybe that was okay. But God, he was tired, tired of always being the one who had to translate his heart into something more palatable. Tired of pretending the silences didn’t matter. That the brush-offs, the well-meaning sarcasm, the casual dismissals didn’t sting.
It was why he hadn’t corrected her. Why he hadn’t shifted the conversation from Tommy as the past to Tommy as the present. Not yet.
He knew he’d have to tell her eventually. And he would. But not today. Because what he had with Tommy right now… it was theirs. Quiet. Real. Free from commentary and assumptions. Just the two of them rebuilding something honest. Taking their time. Getting it right. Building something that could actually last.
He was just grateful Maddie hadn’t brought up the awkwardness at the 118. He wasn’t sure he’d know what to say if she did.
He could only imagine the version of events Chimney had shared with her over the past few months, the tension, the distance, the silence that sometimes settled heavier than smoke after a fire. Hen hadn’t gone back to outright ignoring him, but the awkwardness between them had somehow deepened. Their conversations were surface-level at best. Still, he could see it in her, the way she hovered on the edge of something unspoken, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.
In the past, he would’ve bent over backwards to fix it, even if it meant swallowing his own hurt. But he wasn’t that person anymore. His feelings mattered too. So until Hen was ready to say what needed to be said, to acknowledge how her actions, her silence had hurt him, he’d keep her at arm’s length.
Chimney was trying to be a captain. Buck gave him credit for that. But it was like he couldn’t decide whether to lead as himself or as Bobby’s shadow. Every awkward talk, every ill-timed joke, only seemed to remind Buck of the space that had opened between them all. He wasn’t the same lively presence he used to be, he knew that, but he was trying. Trying to show up. To engage. To participate.
It just seemed like no one knew what to say to him anymore. And he didn’t really know what to say back.
Things with Eddie… they were still strained. Civil, sure, but surface-level. So much left unsaid, buried under months of frustration and quiet resentment.
Buck had called Chris the other night, just to check in. Told him he could call or visit anytime. Chris was older now, a teenager with his own life, his own schedule. He didn’t want to spend all his time with his dad or his dad’s best friend. Buck understood that. But he missed him. Missed what they’d had.
And with things still tense between him and Eddie… maybe this was easier. Less awkward. He didn’t want to put Chris in the middle, especially now, with him just settling back in and things evening out between him and Eddie. The last thing their relationship needed was Eddie thinking Buck was trying to turn his kid against him.
The one bright spot lately had been Ravi. Steady, observant, quietly loyal Ravi. They’d even started grabbing drinks again after shift. Once, Tommy had joined them, greeting Buck with a bright smile and a kiss now that Ravi knew they were back together. Tommy had even invited Ravi to join them for trivia night when he’s free.
And for a moment, things had felt almost normal again.
He adjusted Robbie gently in his arms, the baby shifting with a soft sigh. Then Buck cleared his throat, pushing the thoughts aside.
“So,” he said, with a tired smile, “how’s it feel? Being a mom of two?”
Maddie looked up, if she was caught off guard by the shift in topic, she didn’t show it.
“Chaotic,” she said with a tired laugh. “Louder than I thought two tiny humans could be. And wonderful.” Her gaze softened, drifting to Robbie. “Even when I haven’t showered in two days and I’m running on Cheerios and caffeine… it’s still wonderful.”
Buck nodded, then asked gently, “And you’re doing okay this time? No unhappy thoughts sneaking in?”
Maddie’s smile didn’t falter. “Not like last time,” she said, honest but careful. “I’ve got a better handle on it. Chim’s been great. I’ve been sleeping more. Talking when I need to.” She looked at Buck then. “I know what to watch for now. And I’m not trying to pretend I’m fine when I’m not.”
Buck studied her, then gave a small nod. “Good. I just… I worry. I know how bad it got last time.”
“I know,” Maddie said softly. “And I’m glad you asked. Really.”
“If you ever need anything, me to take Jee for a night, whatever…just say the word.”
Maddie smiled, that tired kind of grateful that didn’t need big words to feel true. “Thanks, Buck.”
And just like that, they slipped into a familiar rhythm of being siblings again. They talked about Jee’s latest dinosaur obsession, about Chimney’s increasingly unhinged habit of using Robbie’s stroller as a mobile snack caddy, about the lack of sleep and the joys of baby grunts and toddler logic.
It was nice. A real visit. No pressure to fix anything. Just time with his sister, his niece, and his nephew.
By the time Maddie bundled the kids back into the car, it was just past noon. The sun was high, bright through the haze, and Buck stood on the curb a moment longer than necessary after they drove off, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, still smelling faintly like Robbie’s baby shampoo.
Back upstairs, the apartment felt quieter somehow. Not empty, exactly. Just still. Buck moved through it slowly, rinsing out juice cups, refolding the throw Jee had left in a pile.
He didn’t put music on. Didn’t reach for his phone. Just let the silence stretch.
It was nice, in its own way. A soft kind of quiet.
Eventually, he glanced at the clock. Shift started in four hours.
He packed his bag without rushing, threw in a granola bar and the sour candy Tommy snuck into his snack drawer. Took a shower and sat for a while on the edge of the bed, hair still damp, scrolling halfheartedly through messages and news, until Ravi texted.
Ravi: You want to grab a coffee before shift?
Buck: Sure. Meet you at the usual spot?
Ravi: Already halfway there. Will grab your order.
Buck smiled, stood, and grabbed his keys.
Whatever the next twenty-four hours held, at least he wouldn’t be walking into it alone.
****
The coffee shop was nearly empty, the hum of the espresso machine blending with the soft clink of cups behind the counter. Late sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting golden slants across the tiled floor.
Buck spotted Ravi in a booth near the back, already halfway through a cold brew and absentmindedly stirring the melting ice with his straw.
He slid into the seat across from him, grabbing the cup Ravi had ordered for him. “What brought on the sudden caffeine craving?”
Ravi shrugged without looking up. “Felt like a decent way to brace for shift.”
Buck raised a brow. “That ominous, huh?”
Ravi finally looked at him. “Just a hunch.”
Buck smirked, then took a sip of his coffee.
“So… how’s the new place?” Ravi asked, casual but genuinely curious.
Buck exhaled softly, smile pulling at his lips. “It’s good. Mostly unpacked. Still feels a little like I’m crashing at someone else’s apartment.”
“That’ll change. You’ve only been in a week, right?”
Buck nodded. “Yeah. It’s just weird, adjusting. But… it helps that Tommy’s already stashed snacks in the cupboards and claimed a drawer in the bathroom.”
Ravi grinned. “Marking territory, huh?”
Buck’s smile warmed. “Something like that. It’s kind of nice, though. Little pieces of him around the place, it makes it feel less… empty.”
“So things are good?” Ravi asked, tone light but sincere.
Buck’s gaze dropped to the rim of his cup. “Yeah. They are. It’s different now, but in a good way. I’m just… really happy we’re finding our way back.”
Ravi leaned back slightly, relaxed. “I’m happy for you, man.”
Buck looked up, eyes a little softer. “Thanks.”
Ravi added, “You seem more grounded lately. Like… less in your own head.”
Buck let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, Tommy’s been great. He doesn’t try to fix everything, he just listens. And when I fall… he’s there. I still have my ups and downs, but it’s not as heavy anymore. Like I can finally breathe again.”
Ravi nodded slowly. “That’s all any of us can ask for.”
Buck studied him for a moment, then tilted his head. “What about you? How’ve you been holding up?”
Ravi shrugged again, but it was looser this time. “I’m good. Hoping one day I find what you and Tommy have. The dating pool out there? Not exactly thriving.”
Buck laughed, nodding. “Yeah, I definitely don’t miss that scene.”
Ravi grinned, then leaned back. “But yeah, things have been okay. Eddie seems to finally be settling into the medic role, so that’s one less fire to put out, metaphorically speaking. I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Feels weird for things to be… calm.”
Buck’s smile softened. “Yeah. I get that. It’s almost suspicious when things feel… easy, right? Like, are we being punk’d or something?”
Ravi huffed a laugh. “Exactly.”
“But seriously,” Buck added, nudging his coffee cup with his thumb, “you’ve been solid. With the team, with me… with Eddie figuring out where he fits again.” He paused, sincerity threading through his voice. “You deserve the calm, Ravi.”
Ravi looked down, a small, surprised smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, man.”
Buck grinned. “Now if we could just find someone who doesn’t think ‘vibes’ counts as a love language, you’d be golden.”
Ravi laughed, shaking his head. “You’re setting the bar too high.”
They let the laughter settle into something quieter, the kind of easy silence that came from knowing you didn’t have to fill every moment.
Buck drained the last of his coffee and stood, stretching a little. “You ready to suit up?”
Ravi sighed like a man preparing for battle. “As I’ll ever be.”
They grabbed their cups and headed out, sunlight still stretching long across the pavement. The streets were starting to thrum with late-afternoon traffic, and Buck felt the familiar shift settle into his bones, that mix of anticipation and alertness that always came before a call.
By the time they reached the station, the bay doors were open, the rig parked just inside and catching the last streaks of golden light. Chimney stood by the wallboard, phone to his ear, nodding along to whatever the caller was saying. Buck gave him a quick wave.
He and Ravi moved toward the lockers in easy silence, the familiar rhythm of shift settling into their bones. Changing was second nature now, boots, gear, radios.
Upstairs, the loft carried a low hum. Not silent, but not exactly alive either. Hen sat at the far end of the table, scrolling through her tablet without much interest, eyes glazed like her mind was elsewhere. Chimney had since taken up residence on the couch, flipping channels at random, the remote clicking steadily without ever landing on anything. Eddie lounged nearby, tossing a stress ball between his hands, his expression unreadable and his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.
Buck kept his steps light, shoulders loose, as he and Ravi made their way into the room. He offered Hen a small smile as they passed and gave Eddie a nod when their eyes met. Ravi shot him a quiet, questioning glance, taking in the silence, the tension, but Buck just shrugged and settled onto the couch beside Chimney.
He had no idea what was going on with everyone today. But he wasn’t about to be the one to ask.
Chimney muted the TV mid-scroll and dropped the remote onto the cushion. “You guys hear about that fire in Glassell Park earlier this week?”
Buck glanced over. “Which one?”
“Old warehouse near the train tracks,” Chim said. “Big response. A few firefighters got sent to the hospital, some serious burns, smoke inhalation. Heard one of them’s looking at a long recovery.”
Hen looked up from her tablet. “That’s the second bad one this month.”
“Third, if you count that roof collapse in San Pedro,” Ravi added, frowning slightly.
Chim scratched the back of his neck, thoughtful. “Feels like more of us are getting hurt lately. Maybe it’s just bad luck, but… I dunno.”
Buck didn’t answer. But something about the way Chimney said it, he couldn’t help but feel was missing something.
He leaned back, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch, gaze drifting toward the window like maybe the city had something to say for itself. He tried to shake it off, focus on the shift ahead. But the unease settled low and steady in his stomach, and this time, it didn’t go away.
****
The call came just after sunrise.
The sky outside the loft windows had only just begun to shift from blue-grey to gold, streaks of light filtering in over half-drunk coffee mugs and sleepy silence. Most of the team had just started stirring, Hen stretching at the kitchen counter, Ravi yawning over a bowl of cereal, Eddie rubbing a hand over his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Buck sat at the table, legs stretched out in front of him, flipping absently through a book that had been left on the table.
The tones cracked through the stillness, sharp and sudden.
“Station 118, Station 217, respond to possible water rescue and vehicle submersion, Palisades Bluffs access point. Caller reports two vehicles over the embankment.”
Everything froze for a moment. Then scrambled into motion.
Chairs scraped back. Radios clicked. Hen grabbed the tablet from the counter. Chim was already halfway to the stairs, shouting, “Let’s move!”
Buck was on his feet as his pulse quickened with adrenaline as they hustled toward the rig and tried to anticipate what was going to greet them when they got to the bluffs.
****
The 118’s engine pulled onto the narrow turnout at the edge of Palisades Bluffs, tires crunching over sun-bleached gravel. A silver SUV sat skewed against a crumbling patch of coastal scrub, its back end tilted dangerously toward the edge. The front end was partially embedded in loose earth, but the angle was precarious, back tires hanging inches from the drop. Fifty feet below, a red sedan was half-submerged in the churning surf, only the roof and a slice of the windshield still visible.
Buck was out of the rig first, the scene already unfolding fast.
“Jesus,” Hen muttered as she came up behind him. “That car’s not gonna hold much longer.”
Chim was already opening compartments. “We’ve got maybe ten minutes before the sedan disappears. Less if the tide shifts hard.”
Hen pointed toward the SUV. “We’re gonna need stabilization lines. It’s shifting every time the wind hits.”
Chim didn’t look up. “Sedan’s the priority. We’ve got people in the water.”
“And if that SUV slips while we’ve got people down there—?”
“I said the sedan’s the priority, Hen.”
The tension snapped sharp between them.
Buck stepped in, voice calm and commanding. “Okay. Enough. This is what we’re going to do.”
The team froze, turning toward him.
“Eddie, Ravi, you two focus on stabilizing the SUV. Use the north-side rock shelf. Double anchor. I want it locked down before it shifts again.”
“Hen,” he continued, “you and I are heading down. We get eyes on the sedan, assess the victims, and figure out the best way to extract them.”
Hen gave a tight nod, already reaching for gear.
Buck turned to Chimney. “Loop in 217. Get their dive team ready. And let dispatch know we’ll likely need additional ambulances.”
Chimney blinked, then gave a short nod and moved to the radio.
“Or,” Buck added dryly, “we can keep arguing and let the tide take care of it.”
That broke the silence.
Gear clicked. Boots moved. The team snapped into motion.
Buck and Hen descended carefully down the cliff face, tethered to their rappel lines, boots slipping on damp, eroded rock. The only access to the vehicle below was vertical, a jagged, fifty-foot drop with no shoreline path and sea spray rising with every gust of wind.
Below, the red sedan was wedged awkwardly between two boulders, half-submerged in churning surf. The rear was already pulled under, the front end rocking with every swell.
“Two in the front,” Hen called out as they lowered into position. She squinted into the morning light. “Driver’s unconscious. Passenger’s moving.”
“Doors are jammed,” Buck said, unclipping from the rope and crouching low as waves surged around his boots. “We’re going through the window.”
“Frame’s buckling,” Hen warned. “Watch the left side. It’s caved in at the base.”
“I see it.” Buck adjusted his stance. “Waterline’s rising fast. Maybe four minutes before we lose full access.”
Above them, rotor blades cut through the wind. The 217’s air unit hovered just off the bluff, yellow-and-white against the pale sky. From the cockpit, Tommy’s voice crackled in Buck’s earpiece.
“LAFD Air 217 inbound. Eyes on you. Confirm number of victims trapped?”
“Two confirmed,” Buck responded. “We’ll need dive assist for extraction.”
“Copy that. Dropping swimmers.”
Seconds later, two black-suited figures splashed into the water, swimming with practiced ease toward the vehicle.
A new voice cut in on tactical, “217 command on scene. Buckley, status?”
Buck turned his head as Mac’s boots crunched into view just above, descending on her own rope line. She was coming in hot and landed steady near him in seconds, eyes already scanning the wreck.
“Two trapped. Window’s our best shot, but the frame’s compromised. We’ll have seconds once we break it.”
Mac took in the scene with a single glance, then nodded sharply. “Blake, get eyes inside. Kai, prep for extraction and signal J.J. for a basket drop.”
She turned to Buck. “You’re on entry. Hen, coordinate lift lines with air. I want them out before the tide eats our window.”
Hen gave a crisp nod and headed back up to the high-ground, radio already raised.
Blake surfaced beside the passenger window. “Glass is intact but bowing. Passenger's semi-alert, trying to move. Driver’s unresponsive.”
Buck was already pulling the punch tool from his belt. “I’ve got the right side.”
“On your mark,” Mac said calmly, crouched beside him.
With Kai stabilizing the front end from below, Buck smashed the window with a sharp press of the punch. The glass gave instantly — water rushing in fast — but he was ready, one arm braced inside, the other grabbing for the passenger.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Just stay with me.”
As Mac and Kai steadied the victim’s extraction path, Buck helped pull the passenger out through the shattered frame and into the water. Blake was there in seconds, guiding them into the sling basket as it descended from the helicopter above.
“Basket ready,” Tommy’s voice crackled over comms. “Hoist is live. Stand by for lift.”
Hen signalled the go-ahead from above, and the line tightened. The passenger rose steadily into the air, spinning slightly as the chopper lifted them up toward the top of the bluff where the ambulances waited.
Buck didn’t pause. He turned back to the vehicle. “Driver’s next.”
Blake and Kai moved fast, working together to free the unconscious driver. Another hoist line dropped, swaying slightly in the crosswind.
“Second basket inbound,” J.J. called as she lowered it down again. “Stable lift path confirmed.”
They clipped the driver in, hands moving in unison. Buck gave the signal, and the cable tightened again. The driver was hauled upward, slower this time due to his condition, but steady.
Just as the basket cleared the rocks, the sedan groaned, shifted, and finally gave way, sliding fully beneath the surf with a final surge of water and foam.
The rescuers stood silent for a beat, letting the moment settle around them. Ocean spray hit their faces, the roar of the surf returning full force now that the helicopter noise had dipped.
Mac exhaled beside Buck. “Close one.”
Buck nodded, water dripping from his sleeves. “Too close.”
Mac keyed her radio. “Topside, confirm both victims received.”
Chimney’s voice came back. “Confirmed. Loading both into the ambulances.”
“Copy. Get the line ready. We’re sending Kai and Blake back up to the helo.”
There was no safe place for Blake and Kai to climb from. The only exit was the way they came in.
Tommy lowered the line and Kai and Blake helped each other get secured before signalling. The helicopter adjusted, banking slightly to compensate for the wind gusting off the bluffs.
“Keep your seat backs and tray tables upright, boys,” Tommy quipped over comms as he began lifting his teammates back into the helicopter.
Buck and Mac watched from below as the divers rose through the mist, legs dangling, gear clinking faintly. It wasn’t graceful, but it was clean. The kind of maneuver you only pulled off when every part of the team trusted each other implicitly.
Buck tracked them until they disappeared inside the open bay, the doors sliding shut behind them.
Mac clapped him on the shoulder, her tone casual but firm. “I’m impressed, Buckley.”
He blinked, caught off guard by the praise. “Thanks,” he said after a beat.
Before he could say more, Tommy’s voice crackled in over the comms. “That’s our last lift. Heading back to base.”
Buck turned just in time to see the chopper bank smoothly toward the open sky. Through the cockpit glass, Tommy caught his eye. He lifted two fingers to his chest, then tapped them gently to the windshield, a private signal meant only for Buck.
Buck smiled as he gave a small nod in return.
By the time he and Mac made their way back up to the bluff’s edge, Eddie and Hen were already en route to the hospital with one of the ambulances. Chimney and Ravi stood with the rest of the 118 and 217 crews, gear in hand, the SUV now safely pulled away from the edge with the police on scene, and a tow truck was idling nearby to finish the cleanup.
Mac didn’t linger. She issued a few quick instructions, then turned back to Buck. Her gaze lingered on him for a beat, thoughtful. She gave one final nod before climbing into the 217’s rig.
Buck stayed behind, boots soaked, salt crusting at his collar. The adrenaline was still fading, the wind off the ocean sharp against his wet gear. The rescue had been tight, high stakes, fast decisions, no room for hesitation.
And for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t second-guessing every step he’d taken. He just felt… confident... and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to find his way again.
****
The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the station floor. Buck peeled off his jacket near the rig, the weight of saltwater and adrenaline finally catching up with him. His gear was half-soaked, boots squelching as he stepped out of them and set them aside.
From behind, Ravi wandered in with a towel looped around his neck and half a bottle of Gatorade in hand. He looked spent, hair damp, shoulders slack, the kind of tired that settled in your bones after a call like that.
Buck gave him a nod. “You good?”
Ravi let out a breath and nodded slowly. “Yeah. That was… a lot. Cool to see the 217 in action though. Up close.”
“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Tommy’s mentioned some of the changes they’ve been making over there. It’s… impressive.”
Ravi hesitated for a second, then added more quietly, “You did good out there. The way you took charge, Bobby would have been proud.”
Buck blinked, caught slightly off guard. He gave a small, tired smile. “Thanks.”
Before he could say more, Buck’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out and grinned the second he saw the caller ID.
Tommy.
He lifted it to his ear, already turning toward the open bay for some privacy.
“Hey.”
Tommy’s voice came through smooth, amused, and just a little smug. “So. How’s it feel being the talk of the bluff?”
Buck rolled his eyes, already smiling. “I’m assuming you mean professionally.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Tommy drawled. “Everyone at the 217 was very impressed with your rope work. That… firm grip. Real commanding presence.”
Buck huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that’s not subtle.”
“I haven’t even started, Evan. You should’ve heard what J.J. said about you in that soaked uniform.”
“Like she could see anything from up there.”
“The way your muscles rippled,” Tommy said, voice dropping low. “You Left very little to the imagination.”
Buck turned slightly, glancing behind him to make sure no one was around. Ravi had mercifully disappeared toward the locker room. “Are you done?”
“Not even close,” Tommy said easily. “You still coming over after shift?”
Buck’s grin softened, the teasing still in his voice but now edged with something quieter. “Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Tommy’s gaze lingered on him a beat longer. “You did good today. I know you’re probably brushing it off, but… you kept people safe. You didn’t hesitate.” His voice was soft, pride threading through every word.
Buck swallowed, caught off guard by how much that landed. “I didn’t really think,” he said, quieter now. “Just… did what needed doing.”
“That was a complex rescue, Evan. You impressed a lot of people today.”
He paused, then added, “I’m proud of you.”
Buck leaned against the rig, head tipping back as the day finally caught up with him. “Thank you.”
“I’ll have dinner waiting,” Tommy added, voice low. “And dry clothes.”
Buck laughed, fond and tired. “You trying to seduce me with comfort?”
“I’m trying to take care of you,” Tommy said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
Buck’s voice dropped to a murmur. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as shift ends.”
“Good.”
They didn’t say goodbye. They didn’t have to.
Buck slipped his phone back into his pocket, the smile still tugging faintly at his lips when he turned, only to find Eddie standing a few feet away near the lockers, half in shadow, a towel slung over one shoulder.
Eddie’s expression was unreadable. “You’re seeing someone?”
Buck blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“That sounded like someone you’re… dating.”
“Did it?”
Eddie shrugged, not quite casual. “Just surprised, I guess. You never mentioned anything. With how things ended with Tommy...” He let the sentence trail off, unfinished, but the implication hung in the air between them.
Buck’s tone edged sharper. “Didn’t realise my personal life was up for station gossip. Especially when half of them would rather whisper about me behind my back.”
Eddie frowned. “What’s with the attitude? I was just making conversation. Are you still pissed about what I said after Bobby’s funeral? I apologized for that.”
“No, Eddie. You didn’t.” Buck’s voice was low but steady. “You brought Chris to visit and hoped that would make it all go away. But you never said anything. And honestly? I’m not sure I’d believe it if you did.”
Buck stepped forward, just enough. “It’s not the first time you’ve called me exhausting. Or accused me of making everything about myself. You made me feel selfish for hurting, like my grief didn’t matter. So no… you didn’t apologize. And honestly? I don’t know how to come back from that.”
“You scared me that night,” he added.
Eddie’s jaw tightened. “It was the heat of the moment, Buck. We were both hurting.”
“You’re right. We were.” Buck’s voice cracked slightly. “I just didn’t use you as a punching bag to get through it.”
Eddie took a step closer, voice dropping. “Why can’t we move past this?” His voice was softer now, unsure. “I feel like I’m losing my best friend.”
Buck froze.
The words hit harder than he expected, maybe because he’d thought the same thing. Maybe because a part of him had already grieved it.
He met Eddie’s gaze and when he spoke, it wasn’t cruel. It was just honest.
“I felt like I lost mine a while ago.”
Buck didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked away, boots echoing on concrete. The silence he left behind said everything.
****
Buck exhaled as the end of shift finally arrived, stepping out into the cooling evening air with his duffel slung over one shoulder. The sky was shifting from gold to lavender, the kind of quiet that usually helped him breathe easier. His body ached, but his mind wouldn’t settle.
He almost didn’t see the woman waiting for him until she pushed off the side of an LAFD SUV and called out.
“Firefighter Buckley.”
He startled slightly, turning toward the voice. “Captain Ryan. Uh—hey.”
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said with a small smile, lifting her hands in apology. “And it’s Mac, please.”
She glanced toward the station before stepping closer, her tone lowering just enough to signal this wasn’t a casual stop.
“Was wondering if I could steal you for a coffee,” she said. “Somewhere a little less full of curious ears.” She nodded subtly toward the bay. “I promise it won’t take long, I know Tommy’s waiting on you.”
Buck glanced around, pulse ticking up just a notch. He wasn’t sure what made him more nervous, the fact that a 217 captain wanted a private chat, or that she’d timed it this well. “Uh… yeah. Sure. Did you have a place in mind?”
They agreed on a small café not too far from the 118, but just far enough to likely not run into anyone and then they each headed to their own vehicles. Buck watched her pull out first, taillights flashing as she turned toward the main road. He waited a beat before following, punching the café address into his phone and letting the familiar rhythm of the city fill the silence in his cab.
The drive took just over fifteen minutes, long enough to clear his head, but short enough that the weight of the day didn’t fade. The rescue. The conversation with Eddie. It all churned beneath the surface.
He pulled into the small lot behind the café just as Mac was getting out of her SUV. She didn’t wave, just met his gaze with a small nod and motioned toward the entrance.
The café was tucked between a boutique wine shop and a Pilates studio. It had the kind of understated charm that made it feel deliberately undiscovered: matte black trim, soft globe lights strung across the outdoor patio, and a chalkboard sign that just said “Good Coffee. No Drama.”
Inside, the space was warm and clean, all exposed brick and reclaimed wood. Indie music hummed through hidden speakers, low enough not to interrupt conversation. A few patrons worked quietly on laptops or lingered over half-finished pastries, but no one paid them any mind.
Mac ordered an iced, double shot, no room, while Buck went with a ginger mint tea, something calming that he hadn’t even realized he wanted until he said it aloud.
They carried their drinks to a booth tucked along the far wall, a sleek leather bench with a small table between them and a hanging plant overhead. It was quiet here, shaded just enough from the main floor, a place built for conversations that needed space.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, just the soft clink of ice in Mac’s cup and the rising steam curling from Buck’s tea.
Then Mac leaned in slightly, elbows on the table, expression steady. “You handled yourself well today.”
Buck shrugged, eyes on his tea. “I was just doing what needed to be done.”
Mac smiled at the deflection. “Don’t be so quick to brush that off. That wasn’t just a high-stakes call, it was split command, unstable terrain, unknowns in the water. Real-time decisions under pressure. And you stayed focused. That’s not nothing.”
She leaned back, studying him now with a quieter kind of interest. “I’ve been looking into you, you know.”
Buck blinked. “That’s… not ominous at all.”
Mac laughed. “Relax. Nothing shady. I was surprised when I saw your name come across the transfer list. More surprised when it disappeared.”
“I didn’t know I’d even been added yet,” Buck admitted.
“I get first dibs on rescue firefighters,” she said, a little conspiratorially, like she was letting him in on a secret. “Perks of building a new unit from the ground up.”
She paused, the humour in her voice fading as she studied him more closely. “After Bobby passed, I figured maybe you were running. But I also know… sometimes staying behind after a loss like that? That’s the harder thing. So colour me curious.”
Buck didn’t flinch from the look. “You weren’t wrong,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know where I fit after we lost Bobby.”
Mac nodded slowly. “Yeah. Grief’s a strange one. Knocks you flat without warning. And getting back up? Sometimes that takes a while. Sometimes you’re not even sure you want to.”
Buck nodded. There was something steadying about her presence, grounded. He didn’t feel that quiet pressure to deflect or fake calm like he did with so many others these days.
“Bobby was a friend,” she said after a beat. “We didn’t work together much, but I leaned on him more than he probably knew. Especially after I made captain. He had a way of telling you what you needed to hear without making you feel small for not knowing it already.”
Buck’s lips twitched faintly. “Yeah. That was kind of his superpower.”
She glanced down at her drink, then back at him. “When my husband was diagnosed with ALS… and later, when he passed, Bobby helped me through it. He didn’t sugar-coat it. Didn’t offer hollow comfort. Just a guiding hand while I found my footing.”
Buck looked down at his tea, throat tight. “That sounds like him.”
Mac gave a soft laugh, not unkind. “It’s rare. Someone who can sit with your pain without trying to fix it.”
Buck’s throat tightened but didn’t respond.
“He mentioned you often,” she said gently, her expression softening. “He was proud of you, Buck.”
Buck nodded. His mouth opened, ready to say something, but no words came.
Mac took a slow sip of her iced coffee. “I don’t know if he ever told you this, but… he had plans for you. He wanted you to grow into everything you could be, not just as a firefighter, but as a person. He saw something in you. Believed in you.”
“He never said anything directly,” Buck admitted, voice low. “But… he left me a letter. He hinted at something like that.”
She smiled, quiet, understanding. “Sounds like Bobby. Always wanting to make sure you lived for yourself, not just in his memory.”
The words struck deeper than Buck expected.
Wasn’t that what he’d been doing all along, staying at the 118, letting the silence stretch between him and the others? Too afraid that if he said the wrong thing, if he pushed too hard, he’d lose them for good. That Bobby wouldn’t just be gone… but so would the family they’d built together. And if that happened, wouldn’t that be the greatest disservice of all? To everything Bobby had stood for. To everything he’d tried to build.
“I never thought about it quite like that.”
Mac gave him a gentle smile, like she’d planted a seed and knew it would grow in its own time.
“That’s not why I wanted to talk,” she said, easing back into her chair. “After I saw your name come off the transfer list, I got curious. I knew you from Bobby’s stories, but not much beyond that, so I asked around, informally.”
Then, with a sly glint, “And don’t worry, I didn’t grill your boyfriend. I have boundaries.”
That drew a real smile from Buck, warm and unguarded. “Thanks. Though honestly, he’d probably enjoy the interrogation a little too much.”
“Yeah, he probably would,” Mac agreed, grinning. “He’d enjoy messing with me and throwing me on some wild goose chase as payback for all the extra work I have been throwing at him.”
Buck chuckled. “That sounds about right. But seriously… I haven’t seen him this excited about work in a long time. He might not say it out loud, but I think he’s really thriving over there. You’ve challenged him in the best way.”
Mac’s smile softened. “Tommy’s good people.”
The phrase hit Buck in the chest, Bobby’s voice echoing the same words from another lifetime.
She didn’t notice his stillness, just kept going. “He’s got so much potential. I saw it early on, just needed the right place to push him. And with where I’m taking the 217, I need more leaders like that.”
“Truth is, I’ve been trying to build something a little different at the 217. Something balanced. We’re still LAFD, but we’re integrating more cross-specialty rescue work, air, marine, technical extraction. It’s not about just responding. It’s about adapting. Thinking outside protocol when lives are on the line.”
Buck nodded, settling into something steadier. “He’s mentioned some of the changes you’re making. It’s impressive.”
“Thanks,” Mac said. “I’m glad it’s piqued your interest. That actually brings me to why I asked you here.”
Buck straightened slightly, caught off guard by the shift in tone.
“I want you to come shadow a shift at the 217. I’ll clear it with Chief Simpson, totally above board, and no one at the 118 has to know. I just want you to see it for yourself. See what we’re building.”
Buck blinked. “Me? Why me?”
Mac laughed. “Have I been too subtle?”
She leaned in, voice even. “Look, I know you’re not ready to leave the 118, maybe not now, maybe not ever. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to tempt you a little. You’re a skilled rescue firefighter, Buck. With your background, your SEALs training, the way you command a scene under pressure, you’d be an incredible fit with us. And I think… with the right space, you’d thrive.”
“There’s no pressure,” she said. “That’s why I want you to shadow. Just see what we do. Ask questions. I’ll walk you through where I see the unit going, what kind of leadership I need. And then, you decide. On your terms.”
Buck nodded slowly, the idea already sparking somewhere in the back of his mind. He stared into his tea, turning her offer over once, then again. “The 118…” he hesitated. “It doesn’t feel like it used to. I don’t know how to be there anymore. I don’t even know if they want me there.”
Mac’s voice dropped, softer but steady. “They’re grieving. And people who are grieving aren’t always kind. Especially to the ones who survive.”
Buck looked up, her words landing sharper than expected.
“You don’t owe anyone your stagnation,” she added. “Growth doesn’t mean betrayal. And sometimes the best way to honour what someone built… is to take what they taught you and carry it forward.”
He exhaled slowly, the tension loosening in his shoulders just a little.
She gave him a moment before leaning back, her tone lightening with a smile. “Come fly with us. You’ll get wet, possibly airlifted, and someone will definitely mock your taste in boyfriends. But I think it’ll give you something to think about.”
Buck huffed a quiet laugh. “Can I take a little time to decide?”
“Of course,” Mac said. “Take whatever time you need. If it feels right, let me know, we’ll make it happen.”
He nodded. “Thank you. For reaching out. It’s… nice to hear good things about yourself. Doesn’t happen much lately.”
Mac patted his hand gently. “You’re going to be okay, Buck.”
His eyes locked with hers, the words hitting hard. Bobby’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, one of the last things he’d ever said to him. You’re going to be okay.
“I’ve kept you long enough,” Mac said, standing. “I know Tommy’s probably pacing somewhere, dying to know what we talked about.”
Buck stood too, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s okay if I tell him?”
“Of course. I told him before the end of shift that I was meeting you. I’d never say or do anything behind his back, or yours.”
Buck’s expression softened with gratitude. “I’m sure we both appreciate that.”
They stepped outside into the cooling night air, the city humming quietly around them. As they reached their cars, Mac turned back one last time.
“You take care of yourself, Buck,” she said. “And let me know if we can bribe you to take a walk on the wild side with us.”
He gave a quiet laugh, unlocking his car. “I’ll think about it.”
Notes:
I know this is a moment many of you have been waiting for! Will Buck take Mac up on her offer, or does he go down a different path?? ;)
Hope you enjoyed this one, as always love to hear your thoughts!
xo
Chapter 16: Drop Point
Summary:
In the aftermath of a high-risk rescue, buried tensions surface and hard truths are finally spoken. As the dust settles, Buck is forced to confront what he's been holding onto—and what he's finally ready to let go.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The smell of roasted garlic and tomato lingered in the air, steam curling lazily from the saucepan on the stove. Tommy stirred the sauce with a slow, absent rhythm, watching it thicken while half-listening for the sound of Buck’s key in the door.
Buck still had a key. The one Tommy had told him to keep after he moved out. He could’ve asked for it back, but it hadn’t felt right. It wasn’t just a key. It was a quiet promise.
“Use it whenever. I mean it.”
Buck had looked at him then like Tommy was handing over something sacred. Like he didn’t quite believe he was allowed to keep it. Tommy hadn’t said anything else, just shrugged, leaned in, and kissed him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Because it was. Because even if Buck wasn’t living here anymore, he still fit here.
Still belonged .
The click of the front lock turned, and a familiar rush of comfort hit Tommy’s chest. He didn’t even have to look up before the soft thud of a duffel bag hit the floor, followed by Buck’s voice, low, worn, but warm.
“Hey… Smells incredible in here.”
Tommy glanced over his shoulder, and there he was, hair tousled, hoodie slouched over his broad frame, skin kissed with the day’s heat and fatigue. Buck looked exhausted in that full-body way Tommy knew too well, like his bones were dragging his muscles behind them. But even so, he smiled when he saw him.
“You cook for all your favourite firefighters,” Buck asked, stepping into the kitchen, “or am I just special?”
Tommy let the spoon rest in the pan and turned, leaning back against the counter, motioning for Buck to come closer. “Only the cute ones.”
Buck rolled his eyes but didn’t hesitate. He stepped into Tommy’s space and let himself be drawn in. Tommy wrapped his arms around Buck’s waist, fingers sliding just beneath the hem of his hoodie, brushing against warm skin.
Buck shivered and leaned in a little closer, like even that small touch had pulled something loose inside him.
“You okay?” Tommy asked, voice low, steady.
Buck hesitated, just long enough to say more than words could.
Tommy didn’t push.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed him, light, unhurried. First his temple, then his cheek, and finally, their lips met in something that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate, just comfort.
Buck sighed, a breath long-held finally let go, and tucked his head against Tommy’s shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His breath came warm against Tommy’s collarbone, shaky on the exhale.
Like he’d been holding it in all day. Like here, he could finally let it go.
They stayed like that for a minute. Long enough for the timer on the oven to beep.
“Dinner?” Tommy murmured into Buck’s hair.
Buck pulled back with a soft smile. “Only if you promise to stop trying to seduce me with pasta.”
“No promises,” Tommy grinned.
He gave Buck a gentle nudge toward the kitchen table with a pat to his hip. “Sit. You look like if I don’t feed you soon, you’ll just melt into the floor.”
Buck groaned dramatically as he dropped into a chair. “The floor is looking pretty cozy right now.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, but his grin lingered as he moved to plate the food, hearty, steaming pasta tangled in a thick roasted tomato sauce he’d been nursing for hours. He gave it a generous snowfall of parmesan before sliding the plate in front of Buck, then grabbed his own and settled across from him.
Buck didn’t wait. The first bite hit his tongue and his eyes fluttered shut, his whole body going still for a second like he was experiencing some kind of religious awakening.
“Oh my God,” he groaned. “One day, are you actually going to give me your pasta secrets?”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “And have my nonna curse me from the grave for sharing sacred family knowledge?” He gave a low chuckle. “Not a chance. You’ll just have to suffer through me making it for you.”
Buck laughed, really laughed, the kind that started deep in his chest and rolled outward, warm and unguarded. And just like that, Tommy saw it, the tension easing from his shoulders, his frame relaxing inch by inch.
It was subtle, but Tommy knew every version of Buck by now. Knew the weight he carried like a second set of gear. Knew how rare it was to see that weight shift, even briefly.
Buck looked up at him, eyes still soft, still smiling. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Tommy tilted his head, amused. “What, feeding you?”
Buck gave a small, shy smile. “I kind of like when you cook for me. Makes me feel… special.”
Tommy’s smile deepened as he reached for his wine glass. “You are special… and I like being able to do things for you.”
Under the table, Buck stretched out his legs until his foot nudged against Tommy’s. He hooked his ankle gently, squeezing between Tommy’s like it was second nature.
“You do a lot of things for me,” Buck said, voice low, almost teasing, but there was something softer beneath it.
Tommy arched a brow, setting his glass down. “I do a lot of things for you, huh?”
Buck’s grin widened. “Just stating facts.”
Tommy leaned forward slightly, foot nudging back against Buck’s under the table. “Dangerous thing to admit around me. I’m already debating what else I can add to the list.”
Buck tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Oh yeah?”
Tommy gave him a slow, knowing smile. “Mmhm. Might start with dessert. Or maybe I make you sit through a bad movie just so I can spend the whole time figuring out what makes you squirm.”
Buck laughed. “You say that like it’s a threat.”
“It’s a warning,” Tommy said, deadpan. “And an invitation.”
He took another bite of pasta, completely unfazed, then added, casual as anything, “And if you behave, I might let you finish the movie before I find something better for that mouth of yours to do.”
Buck choked on his wine.
Tommy didn’t even look up, just reached calmly for the breadbasket. “You alright over there?”
Buck was still coughing, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “You… Jesus , Tommy—”
Tommy finally glanced up, lips twitching. “What? I’m just thinking of all things I can do for you... or to you.”
For a while their conversation drifted. Buck talked about a weird call that involved a man accidentally cementing his hand to a garden gnome. Tommy countered with a story about Blake getting his rescue harness caught on the ladder during a training drill.
Buck was smiling more freely now, the lines near his eyes softened, his laugh unguarded.
Tommy caught himself watching him a little too long, fork paused mid-air.
“You’re staring,” Buck teased.
“Can you blame me?” Tommy replied, not even pretending to be ashamed.
Buck flushed, pink spreading across his cheeks as he shook his head. “You’re trouble.”
“You knew that going in.”
“Yeah,” Buck said, quieter now. “Still came back.”
Tommy’s chest tightened for half a second, but the smile that followed was soft, warm, and real. “Yeah. You did.”
Tommy just smirked and casually started gathering the dishes, utterly unbothered.
“Leave it,” Buck said, waving him off as he stood. “I’ll do them after.”
Tommy didn’t argue. He liked that Buck felt comfortable enough to offer, and that he meant it.
“All right then,” he said, flicking the lights low as Buck wandered toward the couch. “Pick something ridiculous.”
Buck was already scrolling through Tommy’s streaming queue, brow furrowed in exaggerated concentration. “Define ridiculous.”
“Something with bad wigs, worse accents, and enough absurdity to make me question your taste in film.”
Buck shot him a grin. “Perfect. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery it is.”
“You are unreal.”
Buck just hit play. “You said ridiculous. I’m delivering.”
He dropped onto the couch, still visibly flushed, just a faint pink dusting his cheeks, but his grin kept twitching like he couldn’t quite get it under control.
“You’re looking a little flushed there, Evan,” Tommy said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Something on your mind?”
Buck gave him a side-eye without turning his head. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” he said, shifting slightly in his seat.
Tommy grinned. “Hmm.” That was all he said, still watching him.
“You’re the worst.”
Tommy turned toward him slowly, elbow resting along the back of the couch, fingers trailing lightly down the side of Buck’s thigh. “Want me to stop?”
Buck looked at him, eyes catching in the dim light. “No.”
Tommy shifted closer, hand sliding up until his fingers found Buck’s jaw. He leaned in, slow and certain, and kissed him, firm, deep, and just a little smug.
Buck responded instantly, hands slipping under Tommy’s shirt, gripping at his sides like he was grounding himself.
When they pulled apart, Buck’s breathing had picked up, lips parted, eyes dark.
“What about the movie?” Tommy asked, voice lower now.
Buck blinked at him, dazed and grinning. “What movie?”
Tommy laughed, then kissed him again, this time longer, slower. One hand tugged gently at the hem of Buck’s shirt as he eased him back against the cushions.
The TV kept playing in the background, forgotten.
The kiss deepened slowly. Tommy’s hand traced the curve of Buck’s spine, feeling the way he leaned into the touch like it anchored him. He tugged gently, and Buck climbed into his lap without hesitation, thighs bracketing his hips, settling against him like he belonged there.
Their mouths never quite broke apart, only shifted. Kiss to breath, breath to kiss, until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. The heat between them built slowly, deliberately. Fingers slipped beneath fabric, hems were pushed up and over, and warmth bloomed wherever skin met skin.
Buck’s hoodie hit the floor. Tommy’s shirt followed. Soon, there was nothing between them.
Tommy let Buck take his time. Let him explore.
Buck’s hands moved with reverence, fingertips tracing the lines of his chest, palms dragging over muscle and bone like he was trying to memorize every inch. His mouth followed, lips brushing over Tommy’s collarbone, tongue teasing the dip between his ribs, teeth grazing just enough to make him hiss.
God, he loved the weight of Buck on top of him. The heat of him. The way he moved, intentional, sensual, unhurried. Buck kissed like he meant it. Like he was home here.
But it was the way he looked at him that undid Tommy the most.
Like Tommy wasn’t just wanted. Like he was everything.
And Tommy, who was used to being steady, silent, a fixed point in a chaotic world, felt himself start to unravel beneath that gaze. Because with Buck, it was never just about the physical. It was the quiet, aching devotion behind every brush of a hand, every whispered name.
Buck shifted above him, gaze locked with his, and for a heartbeat Tommy couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away.
He didn’t want to.
This wasn’t just need. This was wanting, sharp and soft and all-consuming.
And in that moment, Tommy would’ve given him anything.
“Tommy,” Buck whispered, voice rough and close to his ear, “I need you.”
The words hit somewhere deep in Tommy’s chest, sharp and soft all at once.
His breath caught.
He dipped his head to Buck’s shoulder, lips brushing warm skin. Buck tensed beneath him, just slightly, like even that gentlest of touches was too much, and not enough.
“You have me,” Tommy murmured.
And he meant it. God, did he mean it.
He shifted beneath Buck, guiding them together, one hand sliding up Buck’s back, the other anchoring firmly at his hip. Buck moved with him easily, instinctively, like their bodies had always known how to find each other.
They fit.
Buck rolled his hips once, slow, deliberate, and Tommy let out a quiet, broken sound that made Buck’s breath hitch in return. They moved together with quiet urgency, not chasing release, but building something between them. Something that felt like trust made flesh.
Tommy let his hands wander, over the broad lines of Buck’s back, down to his waist, gripping tight at his hips to keep him close. Every shift of their bodies pulled them deeper into each other, the rhythm unspoken but perfectly in sync. Skin dragged. Breaths stuttered. Names were whispered like confessions.
They didn’t do this often, just feel , like this. Pressed together, slow and bare, letting the rest of the world fall away. It was raw. Unfiltered. Every inch of Buck’s body was against his, every heartbeat a steady echo in his chest.
Their cocks slid together, the friction sharp and delicious, the pleasure drawing out with every subtle grind. Every gasp that passed between them felt sacred.
Tommy felt Buck start to tremble, breath catching in shorter bursts as he buried his face against Tommy’s neck.
“I’m close,” Buck whispered, voice shaking, honest.
Tommy tightened his hold around him. “I’ve got you. Just let go.”
His hand slipped between them, coaxing Buck through it. Buck came with a muffled cry against his shoulder, body shaking with it. And Tommy held him. Watched him. Let it hit him how much he felt .
And when he followed, it was with Buck’s name on his lips, eyes locked on the man in his arms, one hand tangled in soft hair, the other wrapped around him like he never wanted to let go.
They lay tangled on the couch, skin still damp, breath slow and uneven. The TV had long faded into background noise, its flickering light casting a soft, shifting glow across the room. Buck’s head rested on Tommy’s chest, one hand draped over his ribs like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.
Tommy didn’t move. His arm curled naturally around Buck, his fingers brushing lazy, steady patterns through his hair, something soothing in the repetition, in the quiet permission to stay exactly where they were.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
Then, softly, barely more than a whisper, Buck said, “So… Mac came to talk to me after shift.”
Tommy’s fingers didn’t pause. “Yeah. She mentioned she was going to see you.”
Buck nodded against his chest. “She offered to let me shadow a shift.”
Tommy didn’t respond right away. He just kept his hand moving, gentle and grounding, sensing Buck wasn’t finished.
“I didn’t give her an answer,” Buck added after a beat. “Not yet.”
Tommy’s voice stayed soft. “Because of me?”
There was a pause.
“Partly,” Buck said.
Still, Tommy didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen or pull away. He just kept tracing quiet lines through Buck’s hair, offering the kind of stillness he knew Buck rarely let himself settle into.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, voice low but open.
Buck let out a breath, the rise and fall of his chest shifting slightly, like he was still trying to make sense of it all as he spoke. “She kind of threw me. I wasn’t expecting it. Or what she had to say.”
Another pause.
“Her knowing Bobby. The things she said about him. And then… wanting me to consider coming to the 217.” His voice dropped. “It’s a lot.”
Tommy nodded slightly, even if Buck couldn’t see it.
“I can’t say I’m uninterested,” Buck continued. “Between what you’ve told me about her and the team, and just how stuck I’ve felt at the 118 lately... it’s an intriguing offer.”
“So what has you hesitating?” Tommy asked, though he already had a good idea.
“You. Us. For one thing,” Buck admitted. “How it could impact our relationship. I know you’d mostly be in air ops, but we’d still be working together.”
He shifted, lifting his head just enough to look at Tommy.
“And then there’s the rest of it,” Buck said. “Whether I’m giving up on the 118. Letting them down. Letting Bobby down.”
Tommy let the silence sit for a moment, long enough to let Buck’s words settle. He felt the ache of it, the conflict tugging at Buck in every direction, and he hated that something good, something potentially healing, had to come with so much weight.
His hand stilled briefly, resting at the nape of Buck’s neck, then started moving again.
“I don’t want to make a choice that’s just about running to something,” Buck said. “Or running from something. I don’t want this—”he tapped a hand lightly against Tommy’s chest “—to be the reason I go. But I also don’t want the 118 to be the reason I stay if I’m not really… okay there anymore.”
Tommy exhaled through his nose, steady.
“I think she offered because she sees something in you,” he said. “Not because of me. Not because of Bobby. Because of you . The way you give a damn. The way you throw yourself in, even when it costs you.”
That drew a quiet huff from Buck. Tommy smiled faintly at the sound, even as his heart twisted a little.
“She doesn’t offer that kind of thing lightly,” Tommy added. “If she wants you on her team, it means she trusts your instincts. Your heart. And I do too.”
Buck shifted slightly against him, his hand curling a little tighter over Tommy’s ribs.
“And yeah,” he said after a beat, his voice softening further, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you there. Selfishly, I do. It’d be easier. Better. I’d get to see you more. Work with you, watch you in action.”
He looked down, brushing his fingers gently through Buck’s curls.
“But that’s not why I want you to do it. I don’t want to be the reason you walk away from the 118. And I definitely don’t want to be the reason you look back one day and wonder if you made the right call.”
He let the words hang for a moment.
“I want you to choose what’s right for you , Buck. Not out of guilt. Not out of fear. Not even for me. Just… what makes you feel like you can breathe again. What makes you happy.”
Buck stayed quiet, but Tommy could feel him thinking, feel the weight of the decision still churning in his chest.
“I don’t know what that is yet.”
Tommy nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
“That’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to know yet.”
And with that, he just held him, bathed in the flickering light of the TV, arms wrapped around the man he loved, like the only thing that mattered was making sure Buck knew, he didn’t have to carry this alone.
Not ever again.
****
The rhythmic clack-clack of the hose reel echoed in the open bay, sunlight slanting in through the wide doors. Buck moved on autopilot, unrolling, rinsing, rewinding, as he and Ravi worked side by side in easy silence.
It was the kind of morning Buck usually liked. Cool breeze, gear drying in the sun. The post-call lull where everyone got their chores done, settled back into the rhythm of the day. But something in him felt out of step. Like he hadn’t fully caught up to his own body yet.
He pulled the nozzle shut and glanced toward the rig, where Ravi was wiping down the side mirrors with a rag slung over his shoulder.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” Ravi asked without looking up.
Buck blinked, caught off guard and blushed as he thought back on the night he had with Tommy. “Uh.. Yeah. A little.”
Ravi tossed him a look. “Uh huh. You’ve been staring at that hose reel a little intensely.”
Buck gave a short laugh. “Guess I’m a little in my head.”
“You? Never.”
Buck rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
They fell back into silence for a minute, the sounds of the station filling the space: the distant clang of dishes, the low murmur of voices from the kitchen, the quiet hiss of the pressure washer kicking on and off in the far corner.
Then Ravi spoke again, quieter this time. “Something happen yesterday?”
Buck didn’t answer right away. He crouched to coil the hose properly, letting the repetitive motion centre him a little. When he stood again, he leaned against the side of the engine, rag in hand, and exhaled slowly.
“The Captain over at the 217 came to see me yesterday,” he said.
Ravi stopped mid-wipe. “Was something wrong?”
Buck shook his head and looked around to making sure no one was around. “She saw my transfer request a while back and I guess was interested. She asked me to come shadow a shift.”
Ravi whistled under his breath. “Damn. That’s big.”
“Yeah,” Buck said. “It is.”
Another beat passed before Ravi asked, “Are you gonna do it?”
“I don’t know yet.” Buck rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Feels like every direction comes with consequences.”
Ravi looked at him closely now. “Because of the team? Or because of—?”
“Both,” Buck admitted. “It’s not just about the job anymore.”
He didn’t say Tommy’s name. He didn’t have to.
Ravi’s expression softened. “You still feel like you’re on the outside here?”
Buck hesitated. “Some days, yeah. I think… I’m just tired of trying to prove I still belong. That I can do this job. That I’m not some reckless kid who doesn’t know what they are doing.”
He said it without bitterness. Just quiet truth.
Ravi nodded slowly, then went back to wiping the chrome, more methodically this time.
“I think you’ve already proven it,” he said. “To the people that matter, anyway.”
Buck didn’t respond to that right away. Just let the words sit.
“You ever feel like the version of yourself everyone sees isn’t the one that feels real?”
Ravi glanced over. “Only every Tuesday and most Wednesdays.”
That pulled a laugh from Buck.
“I’m serious, though,” Ravi added. “You’ve been through hell, Buck. You still show up. Still save people. Still crack those terrible facts in the middle of emergencies.”
Buck looked at him, something in his chest loosening, just a little. Like a too-tight knot tugged gently free.
Ravi shrugged. “You won’t know what’s out there unless you try. Shadowing for one shift doesn’t lock you into anything, but it might help point you in the right direction.”
He paused, eyes steady. “And Buck… you’re not letting anyone down by needing something different. Something more.”
He let that settle before adding, softer now but no less certain, “And if you do decide the 217’s a better fit? Yeah, I’ll be sad to see you go, but I’ll be glad to see you somewhere that makes you smile again. Makes you laugh.”
He nudged Buck’s boot with his own. “And for the record? You’re not getting rid of me that easy. Change of station’s not gonna change that.”
Buck looked down at the rag in his hand, twisting the damp edge between his fingers.
“I just… I want to make the right call,” he said quietly.
“You will,” Ravi replied. “You just gotta give yourself permission for it to be about you. Not Bobby. Not the team. Not even Tommy.”
Buck looked up, caught off guard.
Ravi just gave him a knowing half-smile. “I’ve got eyes, man. And ears.”
Buck huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he tossed the rag toward the cleaning bin.
It missed, bounced off the rim and landed with a sad flop.
“Still can’t aim for shit,” Ravi muttered, already walking over to grab it.
Buck leaned back against the rig, arms crossed, watching him with a fond smile. The laugh still lingered on his lips, but so did something steadier underneath.
****
The call came just after lunch, tones sharp over the station speakers, slicing through the soft hum of dishes and chatter. Reports of a partial structural collapse came in just after lunch, an overloaded freight elevator stalled mid-descent in a downtown warehouse under renovation. Dispatch flagged suspected brake and electrical failures; the power was flickering, alarms cycling on and off.
One worker was confirmed injured from the initial drop, a suspected broken leg. Another was pinned under equipment. A third had minor injuries but couldn’t self-evacuate.
By the time the 118 arrived on scene, the warehouse loomed five stories tall, skeletal, half-gutted. Steel beams jutted like broken ribs. Dust and debris coated the ground, while scaffolding clung to the walls in crooked patterns. Plastic sheeting snapped in empty doorframes. Everything echoed, like the building was holding its breath.
The freight elevator was in the rear loading bay, accessible through a narrow corridor rigged with exposed wiring and hanging bulbs. The car was caught between the third and fourth floors, sunk awkwardly in the shaft. It groaned under its weight, cables strained taut, doors jammed half open.
An onsite structural engineer flagged them down. “Three people inside,” he said quickly, holding up a schematic on a tablet. “One with a leg injury near the front of the platform. Another’s pinned under some equipment in the back. The third guy’s shaken up but mobile. The car’s off-level, we think the rails slipped. Overload or structural fatigue. It’s wedged, but barely.”
Buck and Chimney exchanged a glance. No time to wait for elevator techs or additional support. Chimney told Hen, Eddie and Ravi to wait for them on the third floor, while they would access the elevator from above.
The stairwell brought them to the fourth floor, directly above the stalled elevator. From there, Buck and Chimney moved fast, following the narrow maintenance catwalk that skirted the shaft.
The air grew colder the deeper they went. Radios cut out almost immediately, replaced by the dull hum of emergency power and the occasional hiss of strained wiring. Their only light came from flickering overhead strips and the steady beams of their helmet lamps.
They reached the shaft access, an overhead panel built into the freight car’s roof. The elevator sat just below, jammed halfway between levels. Buck dropped to one knee and began unfastening the panel bolts while Chimney radioed one last update to Ravi before their signal fully cut out.
The metal groaned under their weight as they climbed onto the top of the car, the whole platform slightly tilted, cables tense. The red alarm light inside the shaft cast jagged shadows against the walls.
“Roof panel’s clear,” Buck said, prying it open. “I’m going in.”
He dropped carefully through the narrow opening and landed inside the freight car with a solid thud. The air was thick with dust and the acrid scent of overheated metal. Chimney followed a second later.
Inside, the space was tighter than expected, cluttered with scattered tools and crumpled sheeting. The car was dim, tilted forward at a dangerous angle, the floor partially obscured by debris.
The third man, with only minor injuries, stood pressed near the door, eyes wide. Chimney moved to calm him, steady hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got you,” he said. “You okay to walk?”
The man nodded shakily.
Together, they braced against the inner doors. Buck wedged the Halligan in at the seam while Chimney adjusted the leverage. It took all their strength, but the doors groaned open, just wide enough to guide the less-injured man out onto the ledge.
Chim passed him up to Hen and Eddie waiting at the landing above. He was barely clear when the car shuddered again.
Then came the grinding snap.
A sharp, metallic scream echoed up the shaft and the entire elevator dropped.
Not far, just one floor, but it was fast and hard enough to knock Buck sideways into the wall. Chimney caught himself on the inner railing.
The brakes slammed again with a teeth-rattling jolt. The whole shaft shook.
Then the alarm kicked on, shrill, rhythmic pulses that bounced off the walls. Flashing red strobes bathed the car in jagged bursts of light.
Buck’s breath hitched.
He couldn’t hear Chimney anymore, just the alarms echoing in endless loops, the groan of overburdened cables, the stifling press of concrete and steel. Strobe lights pulsed in frantic bursts, painting the chamber in harsh reds and whites, like firelight. Like the lab in his dreams. Like the deafening silence where Bobby should’ve been.
Buck’s fingers locked around the railing, grip white-knuckled. His lungs squeezed tight, breath catching high in his throat. Each flash warped the walls, too bright, too loud, too close. Every sound rang like memory, dragging him backward. Smoke. Sirens. Screams swallowed by rubble.
The floor beneath him groaned again, a deep metallic protest that vibrated up through his boots and settled cold in his spine.
“Buck.”
Chimney’s voice cut through the noise, steady, clear, intentional. A tether in the chaos.
“You with me?”
Buck blinked, vision narrowing, heart hammering behind his ribs. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah. Just—” He dragged in a breath, sharp and shaky. Tried again. “I’m okay.”
“We’re okay,” Chim said gently. “The brakes caught. We’re not falling.”
Buck nodded, locking his eyes on Chimney’s face instead of the strobes. Focused on the cadence of his voice, something calm, something real , steadying him where nothing else could.
“Just breathe,” Chim repeated. “Take a second. Collect yourself.”
Buck’s shoulders dropped an inch. Not all the way, but enough. The grip on his chest loosened. The noise didn’t stop, but it faded to the edges. Manageable.
The elevator groaned again, deeper this time. A grinding, teeth-on-metal sound that echoed through the shaft. But the cables held.
Buck exhaled, steadying himself. He grounded in the weight of his gear, the grip of the railing, the presence of Chimney just behind him. Then he nodded, jaw tight. “Let’s get them ready to move.”
He crawled toward the rear, where the pinned worker was still half-trapped beneath a toppled equipment cart and twisted framing. The man’s skin was ghost-pale, sweat pooling along his hairline. His chest rose in shallow, uneven pulls.
“Hey,” Buck said, lowering beside him. He tapped the man’s cheek lightly. “Eyes on me. We’ve got you, okay? You’re not alone.”
A faint groan escaped the man’s throat, pain and fogged confusion. His head lolled slightly.
Buck glanced over his shoulder. “Pupils sluggish. Pulse is fast, but thready.”
“Shock’s setting in,” Chimney muttered, already crouched beside the other injured worker. That man was conscious, but barely, sitting slumped against the wall, breathing through clenched teeth. “We’ve got a gash on the forearm and probable fracture at the tibia. He’s bleeding, but not dangerously.”
Buck shifted, digging into their pack and handing over gauze. “Tourniquet?”
“Not yet,” Chim said, pressing gauze to the wound and securing it with a wrap. “You stabilize and I’ll start on the evac harnesses.”
Buck moved fast, using the Halligan to lever enough space to slide a backboard under the pinned man’s legs. Chimney passed over the neck collar without needing to ask.
They worked in practiced silence, moving fast, steady. Chimney rigged the first evac harness around the man with the leg injury while Buck freed the second man’s arm and shoulder from the wreckage, guiding him gently down flat against the floor.
The elevator creaked again beneath them, a low moan of tension in the cables. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. A slow, continuous vibration now hummed through the floor, up through Buck’s knees. The air felt tighter. Thinner.
“Nearly there,” Buck said under his breath. To the man. To himself. To the elevator. “Just hold together a little longer.”
“Straps secure,” Chim said, voice clipped. “First guy’s ready to lift. Soon as Ravi gets us that panel open again, we go.”
Buck looked over. Both workers were rigged, monitored, and braced.
And the car… was still holding. For now.
But it wouldn’t wait much longer.
“You good?” Chimney asked, eyes flicking to Buck between compressions.
“Yeah,” Buck said too fast. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Chimney shot him a look. “No. Back there…you looked like you were having a full-blown panic attack. What the hell was that?”
Buck didn’t answer right away. He shifted his weight, adjusted the strut again, busy hands, buying time. Pretending they weren’t still trembling.
“Buck.”
He glanced over.
“Talk to me.”
Buck exhaled, slow and uneven. Still wouldn’t meet Chimney’s eyes. “After Bobby died… I started having night terrors. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe sometimes. The strobe lights, the sound, it felt like I was back in it. The lab. That day.”
Chimney froze for a beat. “Jesus, Buck. You never said anything.”
Buck finally looked at him, something brittle in his expression. “To who, Chim? You and Hen barely looked at me. Half the time you both scattered the second I walked into a room. The other half, you just stared like if you said one word I would fall apart.”
“That’s not—” Chimney started, but Buck cut him off.
“Don’t,” he said, quieter now, but sharper. “Don’t tell me it’s not fair. Maybe it isn’t. But that’s how it felt. You want to know why I didn’t say anything?” He swallowed, jaw tight. “Because you made me feel invisible. Like I didn’t belong here anymore. Like Bobby was the only reason I ever did.”
The silence that followed was thick. Heavy.
Buck didn’t look away this time. “So yeah, I struggled. But I got through it. Without the support of the people who I thought I could count on.”
Chimney didn’t say anything at first.
He just looked at Buck, really looked at him, for what felt like the first time in weeks. The sharp edges. The exhaustion he’d been trying to laugh off. The way his hands still weren’t entirely steady.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Chimney said finally, his voice low.
Buck gave a short breath of disbelief. “Did you ever ask?”
Chimney’s jaw worked for a second before he spoke again. “No. I didn’t. I…I guess I thought you needed space.”
Buck huffed. “That’s the thing. I didn’t need space. I needed someone to see me. To stop pretending everything was fine just because I showed up for shift.”
Chimney nodded, slowly, like the weight of it was finally sinking in. “You’re right,” he said, voice low. “I was so focused on holding everything together after Bobby died… I didn’t stop to notice who was falling apart.” His gaze dropped. “You’re not the only one who started waking up to sirens in your head.”
Buck’s voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. “I know that. But the difference was…I pulled you off the ledge.”
He met Chimney’s eyes. “You never reached for me.”
Chimney flinched, the truth landing hard between them. It showed in the way his shoulders sagged, in the guilt that flickered across his face. The silence that followed was heavy.
“I know,” he said, barely audible. “And I hate that you’re right.”
Buck didn’t reply. He was still watching Chimney, not with anger now, but something more hollow. Like he didn’t have the energy left to be angry.
“I kept telling myself you were okay,” Chimney continued, his voice tight. “That showing up meant you were healing. That the quiet meant you didn’t want to talk. But really… I think I didn’t want to see it. Because if you weren’t okay, then none of us were. And I couldn’t handle one more thing breaking.”
Buck looked down at his hands, dried blood flaking at his knuckles from the panel they’d forced open, the fine tremble still lingering in his fingers.
“I didn’t need you to fix it,” he said quietly. “I just needed my family.”
Chimney’s reply came after a beat. “I see that now. Maybe too late. But I do.”
They sat there in the flickering dark, surrounded by the distant wail of alarms and the low groan of strained cables above. The silence between them wasn’t comfortable, but it was honest.
“Do you regret staying?” Chimney asked quietly, still not looking at him, like he was bracing for the answer.
Buck hesitated. Then, with the same raw honesty he’d offered moments ago, he said softly, “Yeah…I do… Because I stayed for everyone else but me.”
Before Chimney could respond, a burst of static crackled over their radios.
“—Buck? Chim? Do you copy?”
Buck straightened, adrenaline spiking again. “Ravi?”
The next transmission came through clearer, tight with urgency.
“Got partial signal. Elevator’s dropped to second floor. 122’s got the platform stabilized, we’ve rigged external braces and we're holding tension. I’m at the shaft door now, working to force it open. Sit tight.”
Buck clicked his mic. “We’ve got two patients prepped and stable, but they need to move now. Get us an exit, we’re out of time.”
“Copy. Stand by.”
Outside, the thud of metal echoed through the chamber. Steel meeting steel. Chimney looked at Buck again. “This isn’t over. You and the team.”
Buck exhaled. Not agreement, not defiance. “Maybe. But it has to start being about what I need, too.”
Chimney nodded slowly, but he at least didn’t argue.
Then Eddie’s voice cut in over the comms.
“I’ll take point on the pull…I've got better reach—”
“No,” Ravi said sharply. “Stand down, Diaz. The floor’s uneven on your side, any shift could destabilize the counterweight. I’ve got it.”
Silence.
Buck arched a brow. “Did Ravi just shut Eddie down?”
Chimney let out a quiet huff, part surprise, part reluctant amusement. “Yup. He really did.”
Buck didn’t smile. He looked at Chimney instead, serious now. “You know you’re going to have to talk to him.”
Chimney blinked. “To Ravi?”
“To Eddie.” Buck’s voice was calm but firm. “He’s been doing this almost every call, undermining Ravi, second-guessing him. That’s not fair to Ravi and it’s not safe.”
Chimney’s expression sobered. “Yeah. I know.”
“He’s got to start respecting Ravi,” Buck added. “Before someone gets hurt.”
Chimney nodded slowly, taking it in. No excuses this time.
A moment later, the shaft doors groaned, metal shrieking as they parted just wide enough to flood the elevator with light and motion. Ravi’s face appeared in the gap, focused and flushed with effort, a pry bar still in his hand.
“You two good?” he asked, eyes flicking to Buck, then Chimney, then the workers.
Buck exhaled slowly, the tension finally beginning to release. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”
“Alright,” Ravi said, already signaling some of the 122 crew behind him. “Let’s get them out of here.”
The rest moved fast. The 122 braced the opening while Ravi and a pair of firefighters slipped boards in, coordinating the transfer with Chim. Buck stayed low, steadying each patient with careful hands, his muscles taut but controlled.
When Buck finally climbed out of the elevator shaft, the air hit different, cleaner, easier. Like his lungs remembered how to work again. He took a long breath, wiped sweat and grime from his forehead, and moved on autopilot to help Ravi pack up the gear and stow the last of the tools onto the rig.
“You made the right call,” Buck said, voice low but certain.
Ravi glanced over, lips quirking into a crooked grin. “Thought you might say that.”
But before Buck could respond, before he could even let the moment settle, a voice rang out across the bay.
“Buck!”
He turned instinctively.
Sal.
Dust-coated turnout jacket, helmet tucked under one arm, and that familiar grin that made it look like this was just another Wednesday shift and not a near-disaster.
Buck’s heart kicked once. Then again.
“Sal,” he said, breath catching slightly. “Forgot you were Captain of the 122. Thanks for the backup.”
“For you?” Sal shrugged. “Anytime.” He stepped closer, head tilting. “You alright?”
Buck nodded, quick and reflexive. “Yeah. Got stuck for a bit, but I’m fine. Good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”
Sal’s smile softened with something that looked too close to fond. “Glad you’re okay.”
Buck could feel eyes on him, Ravi and Chimney a few feet back, not saying anything, but definitely paying attention.
“Thanks, man,” Buck added, keeping his tone light, casual. He didn’t want to draw more attention than he already had. Only Ravi knew about him and Tommy being back together, and by extension, that Buck had been spending more time around Tommy’s friends. Like Sal.
“Anytime,” Sal said again, and then, quieter, more for Buck than anyone else, “You coming out tomorrow?”
Buck’s lips tugged into a real smile. “As if I’d pass up a chance to remind everyone I’m the reigning trivia champion.”
Sal huffed a laugh and shook his head. “God, you and Tommy. We’re gonna have to start splitting you two up, your egos barely fit in the room.”
Buck grinned. “Don’t be jealous, DeLuca.”
Sal gave Buck a final grin, stepping back. “See you tomorrow, Trivia King.”
Buck chuckled. “Only if you’re ready to lose gracefully.”
Sal laughed, tossed him a mock salute, and turned to head back to his crew.
As Buck turned toward the rig, he caught Ravi watching him with one brow raised, curious, amused, but not pushing.
Buck just shrugged, a small, private smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he jumped into the rig, ignoring the look Chimney was giving him.
****
The sky stretched dusky and wide, streaked with the last remnants of daylight, lavender giving way to charcoal. From the roof of the station, Buck could see the sprawl of the city as it blinked and breathed below, oblivious to the way his own world kept cracking at the seams.
He stood at the edge, elbows braced against the ledge, the breeze cooling the sweat on his skin and tugging gently at his shirt. The hum of station life drifted upward, hoses being rolled, engines idling, laughter that didn’t quite reach him.
It hadn’t, for a while now.
He looked down at his hands, at the faint scrapes across his knuckles. They weren’t shaking anymore. The adrenaline had faded. The rush of rescue, the precision of instinct. He’d done the job. Saved lives. Held it together when the car dropped and the alarms flashed red like firelight.
But afterward, there’d been no spark. No pride. Just static.
Do you regret staying?
Chimney had asked it gently, like maybe he didn’t want to know the answer. Buck hadn’t meant to say yes out loud. But the truth had slipped out before he could stop it. Because it was true. He had stayed for all of them. For Hen. For Chimney. For Bobby’s legacy. For the version of the 118 that didn’t exist anymore.
But not for himself.
He fished out his phone, the screen lighting up automatically. A message from Tommy waited for him. You okay?
Buck didn’t reply. Instead, he scrolled, past Tommy’s name, past the familiar list of people he’d spent years building a life with. People who hadn’t really seen him in months. Not for who he was now.
His thumb hesitated over Mac’s name.
Captain Ryan. Mac, she had offered something different. Not an escape, not a replacement. But a chance to explore something that felt forward-moving. A place that wasn’t trying to cram him back into the space he used to fill.
He thought of Tommy’s words that night on the couch. Don’t do it for me. Or for anyone else. Do it because you want to. Because it’s right for you.
And maybe for the first time, he felt like taking a step forward in a different direction.
He hit Call .
It rang twice.
“Mac.”
Her voice came through steady, low, composed, no-nonsense as always.
“Hey Mac,” Buck said. “It’s Buck.”
“I was hoping I’d hear from you.”
He let out a slow breath, hand dragging over the back of his neck. “If the offer’s still open… I’d like to come shadow the 217. See what it feels like.”
“You got it,” Mac said without missing a beat. “Send me your next couple of days, and we’ll set something up. And don’t worry, no one needs to know.”
“Thanks,” Buck said, his voice a little quieter now, the weight in his chest easing just enough to feel it.
“I’m glad you called, Buck,” she added, something warm but measured in her tone. “I’m looking forward to hearing what you think of how we do things over at the 217.”
Buck nodded to no one, phone still pressed to his ear.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me too.”
“We’ll see you soon.” she said before hanging up.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and he stayed still, letting the wind wash over him.
There was no rush of clarity. No triumphant swell.
But there was a thread of something steadier beneath the grief and the wreckage. A shift. A start. A new beginning.
Notes:
Buck is going to be spending some time with the 217! I have loved seeing everyone's reaction to this and hope you are enjoying the slightly different take on 217!
Buck also finally had a talk with Chimney and let him know some of his feelings!
Work is a little crazy right now, so will be a little slower at posting updates, I have 3 chapters written that I need to do final edits on but like to keep a few chapters a head so need to write the next few chapters, they are taking me a little longer to write as they have a lot more elements to them!
Hope you enjoyed this one and always love to hear your thoughts! xo
Chapter 17: Heated Response
Summary:
After a romantic date night leads to an unexpectedly fierce trivia showdown with friends, Buck and Tommy embrace a deeper kind of intimacy.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The restaurant had been Buck’s choice, which surprised Tommy, because he usually got decision paralysis when given too many options and defaulted to takeout. But tonight…tonight Buck had been decisive. Confident. He’d sent the reservation with a winking emoji and the words “wear something I’ll want to undress you in later.”
Tommy had laughed out loud when the text came in. Now, a few hours later, he wasn’t laughing so much as trying not to visibly stare.
Across the table, Buck was lounging like a man who knew exactly what kind of effect he had, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone just enough to tease, the fabric fitted in that unfair way that clung to every line of muscle he’d earned. He looked infuriatingly good in the restaurant’s soft lighting, all golden skin and relaxed confidence, a smile that curved slow and wicked every time their knees brushed beneath the table. The low ambient noise, the clink of forks, the quiet murmur of other diners, jazz curling lazily from hidden speakers, barely registered. Whenever Buck leaned in, the rest of the world dimmed.
“I can feel you staring,” Buck murmured, sipping his wine, eyes glinting with amusement.
“That’s because I am staring,” Tommy said, not bothering to deny it. “You wore that shirt on purpose.”
Buck tilted his head. “What shirt?”
Tommy leaned in, elbow to the table, voice pitched low enough to thrum between them. “The one that matches the exact colour your eyes go when you’re thinking about doing something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in public.”
That earned him a blink, and then that grin, all dimple and delight and just enough mischief to knock something loose in Tommy’s chest.
“Define public ,” Buck said, voice just above a whisper.
Tommy didn’t blink. “Anywhere that isn’t my bedroom or the backseat of your Jeep.”
Buck let out a breath that was half a laugh, half something rougher. “You’re trouble.”
“And you like it,” Tommy said, letting himself sit back just enough to ease the pressure, though his heart was still kicking like he’d jumped out of a chopper without a chute. “You keep this up, we’re not making it to trivia.”
Buck’s grin was all teeth and sin. “Promises, promises.”
They lingered longer than they should’ve, dragging out dessert, splitting the last bite of tiramisu like it was a contest, sipping wine until the glasses were empty and Buck was leaning too close, eyes heavy-lidded and full of intent. When they finally stepped outside, the air had cooled, carrying the scent of citrus blossoms and the sound of laughter from a patio down the block.
Tommy reached for Buck’s hand, instinctive.
So did Buck.
Their eyes met, smiles slipping into something sheepish and knowing, and instead of hands, their shoulders brushed as they fell into step, easy and close.
And then—
“Buck?”
The voice was like a ripple through glass, sudden, jarring.
Tommy felt the shift before he saw her. Buck’s body went tight beside him, a subtle but unmistakable freeze. He followed Buck’s gaze and saw her already approaching.
Taylor.
Red hair, crisp lines, polished presence. She walked like she belonged wherever she landed, shoulders back, chin high, smile just a shade too precise. The kind of confidence that always felt a little performative to Tommy.
“Well, this is a surprise,” she said, stopping in front of them like she owned the sidewalk. Her eyes didn’t even flick to Tommy. “You look good, Buck.”
“Hey...Taylor.” Buck’s tone was even, maybe a little too neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Tommy stayed quiet, watching. The way she tilted her head. The way she let her gaze sweep Buck, lingering too long on his open collar, the chain at his neck.
“I was just grabbing a drink with a friend,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear like it was second nature, practiced. “But I wouldn’t have minded running into you. We should catch up sometime.”
Her voice dropped just enough to shift the weight of the words, soft, suggestive, like there was something unfinished between them.
Tommy’s jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on her even as she still hadn’t once looked at him. Like he wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
Buck cleared his throat and shifted just enough that his shoulder brushed Tommy’s. “I’m actually out with my boyfriend,” he said, calm and direct, voice steady as a snapped line. “So thanks, but… not interested.”
Tommy felt something settle low in his chest, satisfaction, maybe, or pride, but it curled warm either way. Then he smiled, small, knowing, and just a little bit smug, as he let the word boyfriend echo quietly between them.
It sounded damn good out loud.
Taylor blinked. “Wait… you’re gay?”
The question landed with all the grace of a bad headline.
Buck didn’t flinch, his expression stayed level, but Tommy felt the shift in him. A flicker of stillness. The way his spine locked just slightly, like he was bracing for something.
Tommy could practically feel the cringe crawling up Buck’s back.
“I’m bisexual, actually...Not that it's any of your business,” Buck said, calm but clipped, tone sharpened just enough to cut.
Taylor gave a little laugh, light and forced. “Huh. Guess I just never pegged you for that.”
Buck lifted an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. He didn’t have to say a word. The look did all the talking.
She cleared her throat, smile tightening. “So…boyfriend.”
Buck smiled then, the kind Tommy loved, real but a little smug. He turned slightly, motioning with a tilt of his head. “Yes. Tommy,” he said. “He’s a pilot with the LAFD.”
Tommy caught the way Taylor’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smirk, but close enough to raise every instinct in him. The kind of look that wasn’t just dismissive, it was territorial, condescending, and wrapped in a too-sweet tone.
Before she could say anything else, Tommy stepped in, closing the small space between them and Buck. His arm slipped around Buck’s waist, low and sure, pulling him just slightly closer.
Buck leaned into the touch without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he wanted the contact as much as Tommy needed to make the line between them unmistakably clear.
It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. Just a quiet, steady claim that spoke volumes without a single word.
The intimacy between them was undeniable, visible in the way Buck leaned in, in the way Tommy’s hand settled low against his back, in the ease of their bodies fitting together like they’d done this a hundred times before.
“Oh,” she said, tone slipping into something mildly condescending. “So firefighters are your type.”
That was enough.
Tommy stepped in before Buck could open his mouth, because he knew exactly where this was headed, and Buck didn’t need to spend another second navigating someone else’s shallow curiosity.
Tommy stepped in before Buck could answer, sensing her line of questions wasn’t headed anywhere good. “We’ve actually got plans we’re running late for,” he said, voice smooth but edged, just enough bite beneath the surface to make the meaning clear. His hand found Buck’s without hesitation, fingers threading through like second nature, a quiet declaration as much as a gesture.
He didn’t look back. Just walked them away, their strides matching, their hands locked together like it had always been this easy.
They didn’t speak for half a block.
Tommy’s pulse was still high in his throat, not from anger, at least not entirely, but from the way Buck hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t shrunk. Had just… stood there , calm and clear and his.
Then Buck tugged him to a stop beneath the darkened awning of a closed shop and kissed him… hard .
Tommy’s hands moved automatically, one to Buck’s hip, the other sliding up his back to anchor them both. Buck leaned in like he needed it, like the breath between them was the only thing tethering him in place.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was low and rough against Tommy’s mouth. “The jealous boyfriend thing?”
Tommy could barely catch his breath. “Yeah?”
Buck grinned, lips brushing his. “Hot. Stupid hot.”
Tommy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Buck’s grin widened, and he didn’t let go.
They stood there a moment longer, the hum of the street fading to background, before Buck bumped their foreheads together with a grin. “Still wanna crush everyone at trivia?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Tommy said.
****
The bar was already buzzing when they walked in, string lights overhead, the hum of conversation, and a faint trail of classic rock bleeding through the speakers. The smell of beer, fried food, and old wood settled into Tommy’s skin the second they stepped inside. It was loud, a little chaotic, but easy in the way only familiar places could be.
They were early enough that trivia hadn’t started yet.
The digital scoreboard on the far wall still blinked Waiting for players… , while the host, some guy in a band tee with a headset mic and the energy of a game show finalist, was already hyping up the rules for anyone who hadn’t been before.
They wove through the crowd toward the long table in the back, half-tucked beneath a string of dim bulbs and a dusty neon sign for some beer neither of them had ever tried. Their crew had already claimed it, familiar faces, new ones, all mid-laughter and half-finished nachos.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Sal called, leaning back in his chair with a grin like they’d been waiting half the night. “Was starting to think you got swept off in a romance novel.”
Jackson gave a slow, theatrical clap. “And still fully clothed. Honestly? Disappointing. We were taking bets on whether you’d show up or just text us from some dimly lit rooftop.”
Tommy didn’t even blink. “Please…if we’d gotten lost in our date, you think we’d waste it texting you?”
Buck let out a low, barking laugh.
JJ shook her head and reached for her drink. “Boys, we’re here to trash-talk the other teams, not eat our own.”
She paused for effect, then added with a smirk, “Besides… we like seeing Tommy ridiculously in love. Makes him slightly less of a bear at work.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You mean competent, efficient, and unwilling to indulge your terrible Spotify choices?”
JJ sipped her drink with zero shame. “Exactly. But now you blush when Buck texts you during briefings, which is much more fun.”
Jackson leaned in, eyes wide with mock delight. “Wait…he blushes?”
Tommy sighed into his beer. “I’m transferring to Station 5.”
Buck, grinning ear to ear, leaned in until his nose nearly brushed Tommy’s cheek. “Too late, babe. That blush? Public record now.”
Sal snorted into his drink. “We’re printing stickers.”
Amber raised her glass. “Team Hotshot & Heartthrob. I’d wear that on a helmet.”
Kai tapped the table. “New trivia team name, incoming.”
Tommy didn’t even blink. “I’m deleting all your contacts.”
JJ grinned. “Not before trivia starts. We need your fast fingers.”
Buck leaned in, voice low and wicked, close enough for only Tommy to hear. “That’s normally my line.”
Tommy didn’t even glance his way, just raised an eyebrow and took a long sip of his beer like it was the only thing keeping him from responding out loud. “You’re lucky I like you.”
Buck smirked. “I’m irresistible and you know it.”
Across the table, Kai looked up slowly, eyes narrowing. “Whatever just happened over there? I want it stricken from the record. Redacted. Burned.”
Sal pointed his pen at them. “No more secret flirting. It’s distracting. Some of us are trying to mentally prep to dominate this thing.”
Mel didn’t even look up from her phone. “You two get handsy mid-round again, I’m filming it and using it as your holiday greeting this year.”
Buck winked. “Kinky.”
Jackson groaned into his drink. “Jesus Christ. We haven’t even started yet.”
Tommy looked around the table and let himself smile.
It was moments like this, loud, messy, familiar, where it all hit a little deeper. Where he could pause and take it in.
Sal and Jackson were his closest friends, his constants. They’d been a lifeline over the years, showing up in ways that mattered when everything else felt like it was shifting. He and JJ had been flying together since he joined the 217, clocking more hours in the air than he could count. But it was only recently that she’d started tagging along to trivia nights, saying she needed to “investigate the hype” like it was a mission assignment, then promptly becoming one of the loudest voices at the table.
Luke, one of Jackson’s friends and a firefighter out of 129, had become a more recent fixture. He and Tommy had only known each other in passing before, but after Luke’s divorce, he started showing up more often, and somewhere along the way, he’d just… stayed. Now, Tommy couldn’t imagine the group without him.
Mel and Kai had found out about trivia nights during one of their weekend pickup basketball games, Mel had rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something, and Kai claimed he was “offended on an intellectual level” that no one had told him sooner. Naturally, they’d insisted on joining.
Now, there were enough of them to fill out two rotating teams. They mixed it up every time to keep things fair and interesting. The banter was relentless, the competition fierce, and the laughter came easy. They didn’t make it every week, but when they did, it was the kind of night that stuck.
And then there was Buck.
Bringing him in had been a no-brainer, with his encyclopedic brain and love of random facts, he fit right into the trivia madness. But it was more than that. It warmed something in Tommy, watching Buck slot so seamlessly into this space. Watching him joke with Sal. Banter with JJ. Smirk across the table like he belonged there, because he did.
Because this wasn’t just trivia anymore. It was his life. And Buck was part of it.
“So who are the teams this week?” Buck asked, leaning in just enough to bump Tommy’s shoulder as he took a slow sip of his beer. “And am I allowed to start gloating yet, or is that bad form?”
Kai looked up from his phone. “You start gloating before we even sit down. The form’s already bad.”
JJ smirked. “Relax, Team Smug. You’re with me, Tommy, and Kai this time. The Fire Hose Knows rides again.”
Sal groaned. “Buck and Tommy on the same team is going to be unbearable.”
Jackson pointed a fry at them like a warning. “They’ve got speed and obscure knowledge. We’re going to need divine intervention and a bonus round.”
Mel raised a brow. “Or we could just beat them.”
Luke gave a small nod, already tapping into the trivia app. “Let them talk. The stats will speak for themselves.”
Tommy glanced over at Buck, who looked like he’d already mentally prepared a victory speech.
“We are so doomed,” he muttered, mostly for JJ’s benefit.
Buck grinned. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been stretching my brain all day.”
Kai snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s all you were stretching today.”
There was a moment of silence, then JJ choked on her drink, and Sal leaned back with a groan.
“Really?”
Jackson clapped once, loud and approving. “That’s going in the recap text.”
Tommy just shook his head, trying not to laugh into his beer. “I hate all of you.”
Buck, completely unfazed, leaned into him with a smirk. “You love it.”
Before anyone could throw another punchline, the house lights dimmed slightly and the host’s voice crackled over the speakers.
“All right, degenerates,” he said cheerfully. “Phones out, brains on. It’s trivia time.”
A cheer went up across the bar. Glasses clinked. Someone at the next table booed preemptively.
“Five rounds,” the host continued, pacing at the front like he was about to drop a set list. “Questions will appear on your screens, you’ve got thirty seconds to answer, and the faster you answer correctly, the more points you earn. You’ll see the leaderboard update in real time. Team with the most points at the end of the night wins bragging rights and drinks on the house.”
Buck was already pulling out his phone, flashing a grin. “Let the games begin.”
Kai cracked his knuckles. “I was born for this moment.”
JJ tapped through the login screen, all business. “Nobody talk to me unless it’s about the periodic table or Lord of the Rings.”
Tommy glanced across the table at their opponents. Mel was adjusting her seat like she was preparing for combat and Sal and Jackson were whispering like they were forming a strategy or planning a heist.
Here we go , Tommy thought, grinning as the countdown flashed across the screen and the first round banner pulsed in neon-blue: ROUND ONE: GENERAL KNOWLEDGE.
The first question was easy. What’s the capital of Mongolia? and before the screen even finished rendering, Buck muttered, “Ulaanbaatar,” fingers already tapping out his answer.
Tommy beat him by a hair, submitting with the confidence of someone who’d just seen this on a geography podcast. The screen flashed green that Tommy was the fastest.
Buck’s eyes widened. “You beat me by half a second?”
Tommy didn’t look up from his phone. “Get faster.”
JJ snorted. “It always starts easy.”
The next few questions flew by in a flurry of fast fingers and escalating trash talk. Marie Curie. Florida. Chemical symbols, JJ fumbled potassium and shouted in betrayal when her screen blinked red. Buck was cackling. Mel had already taken the lead with her calm, ruthless typing. Then came Notting Hill and using his encyclopedic movie recall; he quoted Julia Roberts mid-keystroke and still came in second to Luke.
“Okay, now I’m panicking,” Buck muttered as the leaderboard shifted.
Laughter rippled around the table. Tommy leaned into it, steady and grounded, letting the rhythm of the night carry him.
By the halfway mark, their team, The Fire Hose Knows , was holding first by a slim margin. JJ let out a celebratory cheer, while Buck looked simultaneously smug and stressed.
“Let’s not get cocky,” Kai warned, sipping from his drink. “Still time for a Buck spiral.”
Buck placed a hand on his chest, mock-offended. “My spirals are graceful and factually accurate.”
JJ raised her eyebrows. “Your last spiral involved endangered marsupials and getting locked in the bathroom.”
“And I was right about the wombats,” Buck retorted, deadpan.
The questions kept coming, Mercury…Volga…palindromes , and each one felt like a mini battle, their fingers flying, their voices layered over one another in whispered guesses and confident declarations. When the Dali’s melting clocks question appeared, Kai nailed it, lifting his glass in solemn triumph while JJ declared surrealism explained so much about him.
Then the bonus hit. Final question of the round. Double points.
What’s the only country with a flag that isn’t a rectangle?
Time slowed. A hush fell across both tables.
“Nepal!” Buck barked, typing at warp speed.
Tommy swore under his breath, he knew that, and jammed the answer in a second too late.
He jumped out of his seat like he’d just won the Super Bowl as he was the fastest answer. “He’s back, baby!”
Kai groaned into his drink. “Oh god, the victory lap is starting.”
The leaderboard updated with a smug little chime as The Fire Hose Knows was clearly in the lead.
JJ whooped loud enough to startle the next table. Sal pointed dramatically across the divide.
“It’s early. You can peak too soon.”
Kai sipped his beer. “Tell that to your spelling, ‘pallin-drum.’”
Jackson held up a finger. “I corrected it.”
Tommy leaned closer to Buck, who was still basking in the glow of that last-second answer.
“Four out of ten fastest answers,” Buck said, tilting his head. “You trying to steal my trivia crown?”
Tommy gave him a sidelong look, cool and smug. “I’m not trying.”
Buck beamed, warm and golden under the bar lights. He bumped his knee against Tommy’s under the table and whispered, “That’s the hottest thing you’ve said all night.”
Tommy just shook his head, grinning into his drink as the host’s voice crackled over the speakers:
“All right, folks, round one is in the books! Time for a ten-minute break, refill your drinks, stretch your brains, and get ready for round two: Pop Culture and Media .”
The team spilled into light conversation and teasing, Sal swearing the app was rigged, Luke pulling up ping stats to rub it in, and Mel on a mission to refill drinks.
Buck watched it all with the easy comfort of someone who had found his people, then leaned in just slightly toward Tommy again.
“These nights,” he said, quiet enough for only Tommy to hear, “are kind of perfect.”
Tommy didn’t answer right away, just let the warmth bloom in his chest as he raised his glass and clinked it gently against Buck’s.
“Yeah,” he said, softly. “They really are.”
They sat like that for a moment, quiet, close, a soft contrast to the chaos around them. No declarations. No performance. Just ease.
Then JJ returned with a fresh drink in each hand and zero regard for the mood.
“Round Two’s about to start,” she said. “Finish your flirting and focus up, we’ve got pop culture to destroy.”
Buck bumped Tommy’s arm as he straightened. “Back to battle?”
Tommy picked up his phone. “Lead the charge, golden boy.”
The lights brightened slightly, and the host’s voice rang out again over the speakers, now with a bit more flair, clearly enjoying himself.
Round Two: Pop Culture and Media kicked off with the kind of energy that turned a dim bar into a full-blown arena. The host’s voice cracked through the speakers like a game show emcee hopped up on espresso.
“All right, nerds and know-it-alls, welcome to Round Two! Ten questions. Fastest fingers still win. And yes, we are judging you if you get anything Marvel-related wrong.”
Phones were raised. Drinks refreshed. JJ cracked her knuckles like she was about to enter a combat ring. Kai leaned back with a smug grin.
“Now this is my domain.”
“Please,” Tommy said dryly, already tapping into the round. “I was raised by IMDb.”
The first few questions flew by. Titanic was a layup, Kai, inexplicably, snagged fastest and declared himself “the iceberg” with far too much pride. Beyoncé’s Grammy count gave Buck his moment of glory; he threw both arms in the air and shouted, “Thank you, Queen B!”
From across the bar, Sal yelled, “You spelled her name wrong last time…sit down!”
Laughter rippled through both teams.
JJ rolled her eyes while submitting Central Perk , muttering that if anyone missed it, she was leaving the group chat. Tommy nailed James Earl Jones on the voice actor question, earning a raised brow from JJ and a slow, appreciative grin from Buck.
“You’re freakishly good at this,” JJ said.
Tommy shrugged, just shy of smug. “I had a phase.”
Buck leaned in, murmuring, “That hot.”
Mel, still locked in on her screen, deadpanned, “Stop being cute. This is war.”
Mid-round, The Fire Hose Knows had crept ahead—1,700 points to Station Domination’s 1,580.
“We’re gaining on you!” Sal called.
“Not if I can help it,” Kai shot back, raising his phone like a sword.
The back half of the round hit fast. JJ delivered a flawless Legally Blonde quote. Buck nailed The Sopranos premiere, 1999, typed like a reflex. Luke crushed Unobtanium , muttering that the name still gave him hives. Kai submitted Whitney Houston for The Bodyguard without blinking. Buck hesitated a second too long, prompting Sal to yell it was a “cultural offense.”
Tommy stayed steady. He didn’t boast. Didn’t flail. He just kept hitting answers with quiet precision, clean, sharp, fast. He liked this rhythm, the quick taps, the half-second of stillness before the reactions, the sense of the world narrowing to timing and instinct.
Then came the final question and bonus points. What TV show features a character named Omar Little?
The table went still. Even Buck paused.
Tommy didn’t.
“The Wire,” he said, already submitting.
A second later, Buck cursed under his breath. “Damn it. You beat me.”
JJ whooped. “There’s our ringer!”
Kai lifted her glass. “You’ve been holding out.”
Tommy just shrugged. “Gotta pace myself.”
The scoreboard pulsed as the results loaded. A beat of silence stretched across the table.
ROUND TWO RESULTS: The Fire Hose Knows – 2,560 pts; Station Domination – 2,490 pts; Smarty Pints – 2,180 pts.
JJ nearly knocked over her drink with a victory fist pump. Beside him, Buck leaned in, thigh pressed close under the table. “You couldn’t have let me have that one?”
Tommy tilted his head. “I like winning.”
Buck grinned, lazy and golden. “Yeah? Starting to think I like watching you win.”
“You just like watching me.”
Buck raised his beer in a slow toast, eyes drifting over him. “I most definitely do.”
Tommy bit back a smile and leaned into the heat between them. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Buck said, nudging his knee again, “here I am. Winning trivia. Corrupting your group chat.”
“You haven’t seen geography questions yet.”
Buck lit up. “Oh, I live for the geography round.”
JJ pointed a fry at them. “Are you flirting or strategizing? Because if I have to witness another rom-com moment mid-history round, I’m switching teams.”
Kai raised her glass. “Seconded.”
Tommy stayed deadpan. “You’re just jealous.”
The screen blinked. Round Three: History and Geography.
Tommy cracked his knuckles and gave Buck a look, part warning, part affection. “Hope you’re ready, babe. This is where I stop playing nice.”
Buck grinned. “You do know we’re on the same team, right?”
Tommy shrugged, unbothered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not aiming to win.”
Buck leaned in, voice low and amused. “You’re hot when you’re competitive,” he said, before pressing a quick, heated kiss to Tommy’s mouth, just enough to steal his breath, not his focus.
Tommy didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Flattery won’t save you.”
Buck smirked. “Wasn’t trying to be saved.”
Round three kicked off with a different kind of electricity, less playful, more competitive. These were Tommy’s questions. The ones he didn’t just enjoy, but relished.
The first few questions came rapid-fire, capital cities, battle dates, obscure explorers. It was the kind of cerebral whiplash that separated casual players from the trivia diehards. Buck held his own, but Tommy moved like it was second nature, deliberate, fluid, unshakable.
“Who was the second president of the United States?” Before Buck even inhaled, Tommy’s screen lit up green. “Adams.”
Buck glanced at him, mock-affronted. “Are you even human?”
Tommy just sipped his beer.
When the next question flashed, Which river runs through Baghdad? , Kai didn’t hesitate. “Tigris,” he said, fingers already flying. He grinned like he’d just spiked a volleyball.
But the real flex came a moment later when the app threw out: Which two countries have square flags? Tommy didn’t look up. “Switzerland and Vatican City.”
JJ blinked. “Okay, show-off.”
Buck rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the fond smile on his face..
Then came the curveball. Which African country has the most pyramids? Buck’s eyes lit up. “Sudan,” he said, dead certain.
Across the table, Luke choked on his drink. “Wait, it’s not Egypt?” “Nope,” Buck said, already submitting. “Sudan has over two hundred. Look it up.” The app confirmed it. Correct and fastest.
Buck didn’t gloat, exactly. He just turned to Tommy, glowing with that particular brand of trivia-born satisfaction.
The scoreboard refreshed, numbers ticking into place like a slot machine.
ROUND THREE RESULTS: The Fire Hose Knows – 3,420 pts; Station Domination – 3,400 pts; Smarty Pints – 2,950 pts
Just twenty points between the top two. Anyone’s game now.
The air shifted the moment the category appeared for round four, Science and Nature. JJ cracked her knuckles with theatrical flair, a familiar glint in her eye. “This is my villain origin story,” she muttered, already locked onto her phone.
Tommy leaned toward Buck, his voice low, amused. She said it every round. And she meant it every time.
The first question hit them: What part of the brain controls memory?
Mel didn’t hesitate. “Hippocampus.” Her screen flashed green before anyone else even moved. Fastest. Buck gave her a sidelong look, half-impressed, half-wary. She didn’t glance up. Just smirked and kept going.
Next came ‘What’s the rarest blood type? Luke leaned back in his seat, casual as ever. “AB negative.” Green again. The rest of the table groaned. Jackson fist-bumped him. Kai cursed under his breath.
The pace quickened. Kai was shouting out answers with disbelief in his voice, JJ grumbling about “trick questions” and half-serious threats of table flipping. Buck muttered mnemonic rhymes under his breath, a jumble of half-sense that somehow worked. It was chaotic. Brilliant. Totally unhinged.
Then came the curveball. What’s the largest desert in the world?
The table paused, a rare collective silence. Then the scramble began, Sahara…Gobi, answers flung out too fast, too sure. Wrong. Wrong.
Buck didn’t flinch. He was already grinning, like this was the question he’d been waiting for. His fingers moved before anyone else had time to recover. “Antarctica.”
His screen lit up green.
Tommy turned, brow raised, giving him a long look, equal parts admiration and mild exasperation. Buck’s grin only deepened.
The scoreboard lagged just long enough to raise the stakes. Station Domination had pulled into the lead with 3,420 points, followed closely by The Fire Hose Knows with 3,390. They were down by thirty.
Tommy tipped his drink toward Buck, calm and focused. “Looks like we’re taking it to the final round.”
The final round, Wildcard, kicked off with a warning that sent a ripple through the bar.
“This round is unpredictable so buckle up,” the host announced, voice ringing through the speakers like a starting bell.
Tommy rolled his shoulders like he was stepping onto a court. Beside him, Buck just grinned, chaos already sparking in his eyes.
The first question hit, How many hearts does an octopus have? and JJ answered before anyone else even breathed. Her screen lit up green. She leaned back, smug as hell.
Buck was already laughing by the time the next question loaded, What’s the name of the phobia of long words? “Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia,” he said, grinning like the word itself was a personal gift.
Kai groaned. “Of course you know that.”
Then came the third question, What’s the only food that doesn’t spoil? There was a half-second pause, just long enough for the tension to crackle, before Buck and Tommy answered in perfect unison.
“Honey.”
Their voices overlapped, no hesitation between them. Tommy’s screen lit up green a fraction of a second before Buck’s, and the look Buck gave him was equal parts betrayed and begrudgingly impressed.
Luke was eyeing them across the table like they were some kind of trivia-enhanced androids. “Freaks,” he muttered with a smile.
Tommy just raised an eyebrow, fingers already poised for the next question, while Buck leaned closer, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Three questions in, and the scoreboard was jumping like a live wire. Their table was locked in, bouncing knees, sharp eyes, drinks long forgotten. JJ cracked her knuckles and leaned forward.
“Let’s take this thing home.”
Tommy glanced around as they continued to answer the questions...his team, his chaos crew, and Buck beside him, practically vibrating with energy.
Then came the second-to-last question, the kind that made the whole table go still for a beat, Which country won the first FIFA World Cup in 1930?
Fingers hovered, brows furrowed. Buck cursed softly, already second-guessing himself.
And then, “Uruguay!” JJ shouted, voice cutting through the noise like a flare. Her thumb hit submit with decisive force, and her screen lit up green a heartbeat later.
She let out a victorious whoop, practically slapping Kai on the back as if she’d just netted a goal herself.
One question left.
The countdown pulsed slowly across the screen. The whole bar seemed to hold its breath.
Tommy glanced at Buck, completely still, focused, fingers already hovering over his phone.
What is the only letter that doesn’t appear in any U.S. state name?
“Q,” Buck said softly, already hitting submit.
Luke cursed, just a second too late, as Buck’s screen flashed green.
A chime rang out. Applause spilled from the speakers.
“And the winning team is… The Fire Hose Knows!”
The table exploded. JJ launched herself across the table to shove Buck’s shoulder.
“You trivia goblin. You did it!”
Buck beamed, flushed and smug, basking in the chaos like he’d just won the Super Bowl.
Across from him, Tommy couldn’t stop smiling. The adrenaline, the joy, the noise, him. This was the good stuff.
Buck leaned in, grinning against his lips. “Told you someone was getting lucky.”
Tommy didn’t pull back. “Damn right.”
The bar was still buzzing long after the final chime. Their table was a wreck, empty glasses, victorious debris. Kai stood on his chair for a dramatic toast. JJ demanded the scoreboard be printed and framed. Sal muttered about rematch clauses like it was a contract dispute.
Buck lounged back, arms stretched along the booth, drink in hand, radiant and relaxed. Tommy was tucked in beside him, one hand resting lightly on Buck’s thigh. Every few minutes, someone clapped Buck on the back or offered a dramatic bow.
Eventually, the group began to thin. Mel ducked out with a wave, early shift waiting. Jackson ordered a ride-share. JJ stretched, yawning as she declared her brain “a muscle in need of ice and sleep.”
As the noise dwindled, Tommy leaned in close, voice low and warm. “You ready?”
Buck didn’t answer at first. He just looked at Tommy, really looked at him, like he was imprinting the night in his bones. The glow of the win, the laughter still echoing faintly behind them, the way Tommy’s eyes softened in this kind of light.
“Yeah,” Buck said finally. “Let’s go.”
Tommy slid out of the booth, offering a hand, which Buck took without hesitation. There was a chorus of goodbyes, some teasing, some sincere, and then they were stepping out into the warm L.A. night. The sky was velvet-dark and clear, headlights soft in the distance, city alive but quieter now.
Buck reached for Tommy’s hand as they walked toward the truck, fingers lacing easily, like muscle memory. Neither of them said anything for a while. They didn’t need to.
By the time they reached the passenger door, Buck paused, tugging Tommy back gently by the wrist. “Hey.”
Tommy turned, brow raised.
Buck leaned in, slow and deliberate, his gaze flicking from Tommy’s eyes to his mouth like gravity was pulling him forward. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was deep and sure, a press of heat and intent that stole the air from Tommy’s lungs. It curled around the edges of the night like a secret, like a vow. Not just punctuation on a perfect evening, but the exclamation point, bold, breathless, and utterly certain.
Tommy smiled against his mouth, breath warm and uneven. “You know,” he murmured, voice curling low and deliberate, “for a trivia goblin, you’re sinfully hot.”
Buck didn’t even get the chance to respond before Tommy backed him against the passenger door and kissed him again, deeper, hungrier. When they finally came up for air, Tommy’s hand was still fisted in the front of Buck’s hoodie, their foreheads pressed together.
“Get in,” Tommy said, voice rough and full of promise. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Buck breathed, already scrambling into the truck.
Tommy circled around to the driver’s side, lips still tingling, pulse still pounding. The second the driver’s door swung open, Buck reached across the console and grabbed a fistful of his jacket, dragging him halfway into another kiss that was all teeth and heat and barely-contained need.
They broke apart just long enough for Tommy to exhale a breathless laugh and drop into the seat, slamming the door shut behind him. Tonight was a good night.
****
The bedroom was quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling fan and the steady rasp of Buck’s breathing beside him, slow, even, bone-deep calm. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, painting silver lines across the bed, across skin. Buck lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm under the pillow, the other stretched out like he couldn’t bear the idea of not touching Tommy, even in sleep.
He wasn’t fully asleep, though. Tommy could tell by the faint twitch of his fingers, the soft flicker at the corner of his mouth. The quiet that followed their heat was never empty, it was full. Of breath, of feeling, of everything neither of them had put into words yet.
Tommy lay on his side, one hand drifting along Buck’s back in slow, idle strokes. He felt raw in the way only Buck ever left him, stripped down to something honest. No shields. No bravado. Just this. Just them.
“You still awake?” he asked, voice low in the dark.
Buck shifted slightly, a lazy brush of skin against skin. “Barely,” he murmured. “But yeah.”
Tommy’s fingers slid lower, over the curve of Buck’s spine. Familiar ground, but never taken for granted. “You good?”
The pause that followed wasn’t hesitation, it was thoughtful. Honest in the way Buck only got in the dark, in the quiet, with nothing left to hide behind. Eventually, Buck shifted toward him, curling close, their legs tangling instinctively.
“Yeah,” Buck said. “Better than good. Just… full. Like if I breathe too deep, it might all spill out.”
Tommy’s hand found his cheek, thumb brushing lightly across stubble. “That’s not a bad thing.”
“No,” Buck agreed, eyes half-lidded but clear. “It’s just… a lot.”
Buck spoke again, voice rough, but steady. “You make it easier. Being in my own head. When I’m with you, it’s like the noise shuts off. I can just… be.”
Tommy didn’t respond. He just slid a hand behind Buck’s neck and brought their foreheads together. The kiss he gave was soft, anchoring, not want, but need. Not heat, but gravity.
“You don’t have to be anything but you,” Tommy whispered. “That’s always been enough.”
They lay there in the quiet again, the kind that didn’t ask for conversation but still made room for it. Tommy could feel Buck’s heartbeat, calm and even, beneath the press of their bare chests.
“You always know how to take the edge off,” Buck murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Not just physically. I mean… this. Being with you. Talking to you. Breathing near you. It’s like my brain shuts up for a moment.”
Tommy let out a soft breath, thumb brushing over Buck’s templed. “That’s funny,” he said. “Because you’re the one who makes me want to talk. Really talk.”
“Buck’s gaze met his, sleepy but open. “So talk to me.”
It wasn’t a challenge. It was an invitation. One Tommy hadn’t always known how to accept.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I used to think I had to earn this. Love. Safety. That I had to be the guy who never messed up, or people wouldn’t stay.”
Buck didn’t interrupt. Just reached out and laced their fingers together.
“But then you happened. And you didn’t ask me to be anything but me. Even when I pushed you away. Even when I made it hard.”
Buck squeezed his hand gently. “You never had to earn love, Tommy. You just had to let someone see you.”
Tommy turned, met his gaze. “That used to scare the hell out of me.”
“Still scares me sometimes,” Buck said softly. “But I’d rather be scared with you than safe without you.”
“I love you,” Tommy said, voice low, but sure. “Not just tonight. Not just when it’s easy. I love you because you stay. Because you don’t try to fix me, you just… hold on.”
Buck blinked once, slow. His breath caught in his chest.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Tommy added. “I just needed you to know.”
But Buck did. Voice soft. Fierce. “I love you too.”
He said it like he meant it. Like it had been sitting inside him, waiting for this exact moment.
Then he pulled Tommy in, not for a kiss, but to hold him.
“You have me,” Buck whispered. “All of me. Even the messy parts. Especially the messy parts.”
Tommy angled in, brushing his nose along Buck’s cheek, and kissed him. No rush. No urgency. His mouth lingered, steady and warm, a kiss that said I see you. I choose you. I’m staying.
Buck melted into it, lips parting slightly, breath catching between them. Tommy’s hand slid up his ribs, then to his jaw, his thumb brushing gently as he kissed him again, deeper now, sure and unshakable.
They didn’t need to say anything more.
They stayed like that, legs tangled, hearts steady, the hum of the night threading between them.
Whatever came next, they’d face it like this.
Together.
Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Had to throw in something fun and utterly ridiculous! These characters are a lot of fun to write so I hope you enjoyed the craziness!
We get into it in the next chapter.... Buck shadows the 217!
Thank you for all the kind words and love for the last chapter! I am constantly blown away by the response to this story that I couldn't get out of my head and how now turned into more than 100K words!
Always love to hear your thoughts xo
Chapter 18: The Longest Shift – Part 1
Summary:
As Buck begins a pivotal shadow shift at Station 217, he finds himself tested in new ways, and Mac leaves him questioning everything he thought he knew about where he belongs and who he’s becoming.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The smell of coffee drifted through the apartment, warm and rich, mingling with the faint crispness of early morning air. Sunlight cut across the floor in slanted lines, catching on the edges of Buck’s half-zipped gear bag by the door. The place still felt a little bare, some pictures not yet hung, a plant in the corner waiting to be repotted, but it smelled like home now. Coffee. Clean laundry, and lately...Tommy.
Buck stood at the kitchen counter, staring into his mug like it might give him all the answers.
Tommy reached for the other mug on the counter, his, still steaming, then bumped his shoulder gently against Buck’s. “You’re allowed to want things to work out.”
Buck exhaled, slow and uneven. “Yeah, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to want this. Or if it’s just me trying to escape the mess at the 118.”
“You’re not escaping,” Tommy said softly. “You’re exploring options. There’s a difference.”
Buck glanced over at him. “You always make it sound so rational.”
“Only because you’re spiralling and someone’s gotta keep you tethered to Earth.”
Buck snorted into his coffee. “How are you this grounded before six a.m.?”
“Years of helicopter drills,” Tommy said dryly. “We’re trained to function under pressure before most people have had breakfast.”
He leaned his hip against the counter and added, “I’ll be with air ops most of the morning unless Mac pulls us for a joint call, but I’ll be around. I won’t crowd you. Just… you’ll know I’m there.”
Buck didn’t answer right away, just stared into his mug again, this time with less dread and more thought.
Tommy followed him to the door, grabbing his keys and hoodie from the hook without needing to be asked. They fell into step easily, their shoulders brushing as they made their way down the hallway and into the still-sleepy quiet of the building. Outside, the city was just starting to stir. The sky held that pale grey-blue of early morning, traffic light but growing.
Buck paused beside his jeep, his hand on the handle, bag slung over one shoulder. “You sure it won’t be weird?” he asked, eyes catching Tommy’s in the soft light. “Us both being there?”
Tommy didn’t hesitate. “Only if you try to flirt with me over the radio.”
Buck smirked. “No promises.”
Tommy leaned in just enough for their foreheads to touch, brief and grounding. “You’ve got this. Mac believes in you. And you’ve done harder things.”
Buck closed his eyes for a beat, breathing him in. Then, with a nod, he pulled away and opened the door. “Twelve hours with your crew, twelve with mine. Nothing to it.”
Tommy stepped back, watching him climb in. “Try not to make anyone fall in love with you before lunch.”
“I’ll wait ‘til after,” Buck called with a half-grin, then pulled the door shut.
As the engine turned over and the Jeep rolled away, Tommy stayed at the curb a moment longer than he needed to. In the rearview mirror, Buck caught sight of him, sleepy, coffee in hand, a soft smile on his face as he finally turned to head back inside. Tommy’s shift didn’t start for another two hours. It wouldn’t be long before Buck got his first real taste of what it might be like to work alongside his boyfriend.
****
Buck had been to the 217 enough times that it should’ve felt familiar. But walking onto the lot now, it was different.
The station was massive compared to the 118. One central building anchored the front of the property, surrounded by hangars and open bays housing everything from amphibious rigs to helicopters, and everything in between. It didn’t hum with chaos like most firehouses. It moved with quiet precision, disciplined, efficient, like a machine already mid-rev.
He remembered the first time he saw it, adrenaline still spiking in his veins as they commandeered a helicopter to save Bobby and Athena. Later came the tour, requested under the thin excuse of curiosity, back when he was only beginning to untangle the pull he felt toward the hot pilot with a wicked grin and a sharp tongue.
He’d always associated the 217 with Tommy. And now, for the first time, he wasn’t here to visit. He was here to work.
Buck was making his way toward the entrance of the command centre when someone called out behind him.
“Hey, Buck!”
He turned to see JJ, still in her flight gear, a clipboard tucked under one arm, a smudge of grease on her temple, and a bright, easy smile on her face.
“Excited to spend the day with us?”
Buck fell into step beside her. “Excited might be a strong word. Nervously optimistic, maybe.”
“Don’t stress, Buck. You’re going to be fine. You already know Kai, and the rest of Mac’s misfit crew are relatively harmless.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.”
JJ laughed. “Can’t have you showing up too confident. Where’s the fun in that?”
She nodded toward the hallway. “C’mon. Mac’s in her office. She wanted to give you the grand tour herself.”
Buck followed her through the station, past the rescue operations bay and down a hallway lined with photos, commendations, and laminated posters that reminded him this wasn’t just a firehouse. It was a hybrid hub, a land, air, and water response centre built for versatility and speed.
JJ knocked once on the glass door before nudging it open. “Delivery for you, Mac.”
Mac looked up from her desk, and gave a soft smile as she stood and then gave JJ a quick nod of thanks, gesturing for Buck to come in.
“Morning, Buck.”
“Morning, Cap.”
“There are too many captains around here, so it’s just Mac on base,” she said. “Besides, you’re here as an observer, not under my command... yet.”
There was a glint in her eye that made Buck both nervous and… maybe a little hopeful.
“Before we start the day, I want to walk you through what we do here,” Mac said, her tone steady, no-nonsense. “Not just the logistics, the why behind it.”
She stepped around to the front of her desk, arms loosely crossed. “Here’s the thing about the 217, we don’t run like a traditional house. We’re built for multi-modal response, yes, but that doesn’t just mean we have more toys in the yard. It means every single person on this team is cross-trained, flexible, and field-ready at a moment’s notice. Land, air, sea…everyone knows how to move between them, or how to support the ones who don’t.”
Buck nodded, quietly taking it in.
“My team is broken into two,” she continued. “Each one is led by a lieutenant who helps manage their team and coordinate rescues, not just within their unit, but with air ops and the Coast Guard as well.”
She tapped her tablet, flipping to the current shift roster. “Each team’s a mix of rescue firefighters and medics, cross-trained for land and water response. Alpha Team is the one you’ll be shadowing today.”
“I’m currently down a lieutenant for Alpha, which is why I’ve been more directly involved with them lately.” She paused, then went on, “Blake specializes in land-based rescue and swiftwater operations. Cruz handles open-water deployments, and Kai supports both. Lexie leads our rope and high-angle calls, she usually partners with Jessica, our technical rescue medic. Aiden rounds out the medical side, he’s solid under pressure, especially in triage situations.”
She looked up at him. “They’re a good group, efficient and used to moving fast. You won’t be jumping in, but you’ll be joining them for drills this morning. On any active calls, you stick with me.”
She gave him a beat to take it in, then added, “Harper floats between Alpha and Beta. She handles logistics, scene coordination, and multi-agency comms. If something’s moving, she’s already tracking it.”
“And air ops?” Buck asked.
“Separate division, but fully integrated when needed. Tommy and his team handle all joint ops from the sky. You know he’s now cross-trained across land and marine, so he’s our go-to for anything involving air-ground coordination. He takes point on aerial deployments. J.J. usually flies with him, and Mila’s their primary flight medic.”
Mac’s tone shifted slightly. “We’re still working out a few kinks in terms of command flow, especially on multi-unit responses. But it’s coming together. Beta team runs the same setup as Alpha and we split calls based on availability. I float between both, but I can’t be in two places at once, so I rely on my lieutenants to take the lead when I’m not there.”
“Makes sense,” Buck said, nodding.
Mac handed him a station badge. “You’ll be sticking mostly with me today. Since you’re not technically on full duty, I don’t want you jumping into anything too hands-on unless I give the green light. That said, this isn’t a ride-along. You’re not here to sit back.”
Buck straightened slightly. “I’m ready to contribute however I can.”
“I know,” Mac said. “Which is why I’ve lined up a few things. You’ll start with Blake and Harper for the morning gear checks and one of our rig drills, we rotate those weekly. You’ll observe a coordinated training op with air support, sit in on our readiness review, and depending on the tempo, shadow me during any active calls we take.”
Mac softened just a touch. “This isn’t a test, Buck. But it is an opportunity. I’ve watched you work. I know what you're capable of. This shift? It’s about showing you how we work and letting you figure out whether you see yourself fitting into that.”
Buck’s voice was quiet. “And if I do?”
“We’ll talk.”
Buck swallowed, the weight of her words not lost on him. “Understood.”
Mac handed him the badge. “We’ll do a check-in before you leave. Any questions, bring them to me or to Blake. And keep your eyes open, this place moves fast.”
Buck gave a small nod. “I’m ready.”
Mac’s lips curved into the smallest smile. “Good. Then let’s get to it.”
Mac led him out of her office and into the main hallway, her stride brisk but unhurried. Buck matched her pace, scanning the surroundings as they moved. The 217 wasn’t just larger than the 118, it felt different. Sleek, modular, a little intimidating in how well it seemed to run.
“This side houses ground ops,” Mac said, gesturing to a wide set of double doors. “Apparatus bays, gear cages, quick deployment lockers. Behind that is our marine storage, jet skis, wetsuits, dive rigs, portable sonar.”
Buck nodded, trying to take it all in. At the 118, everything had its place, but here, everything had purpose . No clutter, no loose ends. Even the whiteboards looked intentional.
Mac pushed open a door into the northern bay, and Buck immediately clocked the activity, ropes being inspected, gear laid out in surgical rows, movement with purpose. He spotted Kai first, already suited up in partial dive gear, adjusting oxygen tanks near the back wall. The others were unfamiliar.
“Alpha Team, this is Evan Buckley,” Mac called out, her voice clean and direct. “He’s shadowing us today.”
Heads turned. Blake looked up first, brows lifting slightly as he took Buck in, then extended a hand.
“Blake.”
“Buck,” he said, shaking it firmly.
Blake turned slightly and gestured to the others. “That’s Lexie, our resident rope expert. She’ll have you dangling off something before lunch if you’re not careful.”
Lexie looked up from her harness check, gave Buck a once-over, and smirked. “Only if he passes the sarcasm test first.”
Buck didn’t miss a beat. “I run on instinct and sarcasm, you might need a head start.”
Lexie grinned. “Dangerous confidence. You’ll fit right in.”
“Jessica is one of our medics,” Blake continued, nodding to the woman crouched beside a gear bag.
Jessica gave a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”
Buck nodded back. “You too.”
Blake shifted his stance, nodding toward a man cross-checking inventory on a med rig. “Aiden is our senior medic. He’s usually the one holding things together when the rest of us are doing something questionable.”
Aiden glanced up, smiled, and offered a casual, “Welcome to the circus.”
Buck chuckled. “Glad to be here.”
“Then there’s Cruz,” Blake said, motioning to where she was tightening straps on a gear pack. “Marine ops lead. She’ll throw you in the ocean if you piss her off, and she’ll save you just as fast.”
Cruz didn’t look up. “Only if the paperwork’s worth it.”
Buck grinned. “I’ll try not to make it tempting.”
“And finally—” Blake started, turning toward the far side of the bay.
But he didn’t get the words out.
“As if I need an introduction,” Kai said with a laugh, making his way over with easy confidence. He pulled Buck into a quick, friendly hug. “Tommy’s actually willing to share you with us today?”
Buck smirked. “Don’t get used to it. I’m on loan, not up for adoption.”
Harper entered from the far end of the bay, tablet in hand. Mac gestured toward her. “And that’s Harper. She’ll make sure you’re in the right place at the right time, and that you don’t accidentally direct someone into the middle of the Pacific.”
“Don’t worry,” Harper said dryly as she approached. “I’ve already planned where you’ll trip up first.”
Buck raised an eyebrow, amused. “That’s comforting.”
“It’s efficient,” she replied, flashing a quick smile before returning to her notes.
Mac stepped back slightly, giving Buck a final once-over. “You’re Alpha’s for the next couple hours. You’ll regroup with me before the drill briefing.”
Buck nodded, adrenaline buzzing just under the surface. “Got it.”
****
The next couple hours passed in a steady hum of activity.
After introductions wrapped, Buck was folded into the rhythm of the morning with a quiet kind of efficiency. No hand-holding. No hovering. They assumed he knew what he was doing and that he’d ask questions when he didn’t.
It was refreshing. Nice, even, to be treated like a capable firefighter instead of someone who needed his hand held through every second of the shift. That unspoken confidence in his competence settled something in him, something that had been off-balance for a while now.
Blake had given a brief rundown of the morning’s rotation, paired Buck with Harper for the walkthrough, and moved on without a further thought.
Harper hadn’t even looked up from her tablet before firing back, “I’ll try not to lose him.”
It got a quiet laugh from a few of the others, and Buck didn’t miss the faint twitch of a smile on Blake’s face as he walked off.
He followed Harper through the gear bays and locker corridors, along taped floor routes marked with colour-coded zones. She moved with clinical confidence, tablet in hand, rattling off checks and updates as naturally as breathing. Buck kept pace, absorbing as much as he could. At first, he tried to catalogue every acronym and system. But it didn’t take long to realize Harper wasn’t testing his memory, she was watching how he tracked, how he adjusted, how fast he could learn without needing the same thing explained twice.
It wasn’t like the 118. There, they worked off instinct. Improv. Muscle memory sharpened by years of calls and banter and knowing each other’s tells. It was family, sometimes messy, sometimes loud, always loyal. Buck had learned to thrive there by staying in motion. By being the guy who jumped first, figured it out on the way down, and somehow still made everyone laugh while patching the fallout.
But here? Everything had intention.
Every checklist had a purpose. Every backup system had a backup of its own. Even the way equipment was stored felt like a language, streamlined, intuitive, efficient. No wasted motion. No clutter. No scramble.
They stopped in front of one of the secondary water rigs, and Harper crouched to check a calibration tag.
“Water rig two has a pressure mismatch,” she muttered, tapping notes into her tablet. “We logged it yesterday, it should be fixed, but I want a second confirmation.”
Buck crouched beside her, flipped open the panel, and ran the manual test. “Confirmed. Pressure’s still off by a hair. Want me to log it for maintenance?”
Harper arched an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “Look at you. Already speaking our language.”
Buck grinned. “I’m a quick study.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, updating the tablet with a few taps. “That’s what Kai said about the new dive comms. Still managed to short one out in training last week.”
Buck laughed. “I’m guessing you made sure he wouldn’t make that mistake twice?”
Harper didn’t even look up. “I laminated the error report and taped it to his locker. With diagrams.”
Buck barked a laugh.
“We keep things light,” Harper added, finally glancing at him, “but we don’t mess around. We’ve lost too many seconds to disorganization and that’s how people get hurt. Or worse.” She tapped her tablet once more. “Mac doesn’t tolerate it. And honestly? Neither do we.”
Buck sobered slightly, nodding. “Copy that.”
By the time they rotated into the drill block, Buck found himself paired with Blake and Lexie, helping lay out lines for a mock high-angle recovery off the training tower. The space buzzed with controlled movement, ropes uncoiled in precise loops, gear clipped to vests with practised ease, radios crackling just enough to feel like the calm before something real.
Lexie didn’t waste time on warm-ups.
“Rig it like you’re actually going over the edge,” she said, tightening her carabiner with a sharp click before tossing Buck a backup harness. “If you mess up, we’ll catch it. If we mess up, we die. No pressure.”
Buck caught the harness one-handed, grinning. “You ever thought about motivational speaking?”
Lexie just smirked, already coiling the secondary line.
He got to work. His hands moved on muscle memory, anchor setup, webbing adjustment, weight distribution. All steps he’d done before, but never quite like this. Lexie and Blake moved like a two-part engine, their rhythm precise and instinctive. Buck matched it as best he could, adjusting on the fly, picking up on the cues they didn’t say out loud.
He was used to working fast. Used to making things up midair if he had to. But here, there was no improvisation. Only layered contingencies, pressure checks, and razor-thin margins for error.
Every time Buck thought he’d nailed it, Blake pointed out another factor to account for, wind angle, rope slack under load, pivot tension on the anchor. Not to correct him, but to push. To make him better.
When they finally clipped in and ran the scenario, Buck was sweating, not just from the heat, but from the focus it took to stay sharp. At the end of it all, Blake gave him a quiet nod, a sign of respect. Buck returned it without a word. Something settled in his chest, like he’d passed a test no one had announced.
They cycled through scenarios, equipment failure, hoist delay, unconscious victim, water encroachment, all under Mac’s watchful eye. Each run came faster than the last. Each one built to stretch the team without ever tipping into chaos.
And Buck kept up.
Barely, sometimes. But he did.
By the end, sweat clung to his neck and his shirt stuck to his back. He leaned against the rig, catching his breath, watching Lexie and Cruz reset the scene with the kind of ease that could only come from relentless repetition and unshakable trust.
Buck had never been afraid of work. From the moment he stepped into the 118, he’d thrown himself headfirst into the chaos, eager, reckless, and determined. He’d built a reputation on heart and instinct, on the kind of gut-deep drive that made him leap when others hesitated. But somewhere along the line, proving himself had started to feel like surviving. Like every shift was another round in a silent fight to stay above water.
Every decision second-guessed. Every win, a quiet negotiation of who trusted him that day. Be enough. Stay sharp. Don’t falter.
It had worn him down more than he’d realized.
But here… it felt different.
No one had told him to prove anything. No one hovered. He was given a task, a rhythm to move in and the quiet assumption that he’d find his place if he paid attention. If he showed up, learned fast, and didn’t treat the job like a personal spotlight.
He liked that.
Liked the way Blake’s nod said more than a speech ever could. Liked the dry barbs traded mid-checklist and the silent trust behind every clipped command. He liked the way Lexie hadn’t slowed down to accommodate him, but hadn’t iced him out either.
There was a kind of earned ease in the way Alpha moved, like each of them had already survived the proving and come out the other side, not just intact, but sharpened. Stronger.
Mac had said this wasn’t a test.
But it was something.
A recalibration, maybe. A glimpse at what it could feel like to be part of a team that didn’t just rely on each other, but respected each other without hesitation.
And for the first time in a long time, Buck didn’t feel like a liability waiting to happen.
Didn’t feel like the guy who had to prove he belonged just to stay.
He just felt like a firefighter. Doing the job. Holding his own. Part of something that might not be his, at least not yet, but felt like solid ground beneath his feet.
Something he hadn’t felt in a while.
****
By the time Mac waved them down to regroup, Buck’s limbs ached with the kind of tiredness that he hadn’t felt since his academy days. The training tower loomed behind them as he fell into step beside Blake and Lexie, unbuckling his harness and rolling out his shoulders as they made their way back toward the command centre.
Mac was waiting just outside, tablet tucked under one arm, sunglasses shading her expression. She gave Buck a quick once-over, a cool smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.
“No bad,” she said, voice low and even. “That wasn’t beginner drills. They were testing you.”
Buck let out a tired laugh, dragging the back of his sleeve across his forehead. “Yeah, I got that.”
“I didn’t tell them why you were here,” Mac continued. “Didn’t need to. They’re not dumb. You’ve got a reputation, Buck. They wanted to see if it held up.”
She let the words hang a beat, then met his eyes. “You did good.”
She tipped her head toward the station. “Lunch is up in ten. Go eat.”
He followed the others through the main corridor, tension bleeding from his shoulders with every step. The kitchen-slash-lounge was already buzzing by the time they stepped inside, open-concept and well-worn, with mismatched chairs gathered around a long central table, a few couches clustered near the TV, and a counter along the back wall set up buffet-style with lunch laid out in foil pans and plastic containers. The smell of roasted chicken and something spicy drifted through the air, carried on the hum of laughter and overlapping conversations.
Kai stepped up beside him, already holding a plate. “D’Angelo from Beta team, his wife owns a catering company, so she drops off lunch or dinner sometimes, says it’s her way of giving back and making sure her husband doesn’t survive on nothing but take out and gas station snacks.”
Buck blinked. “That’s incredible.”
“She’s a phenomenal cook. Everyone gets excited when it’s one of her drop-off days.” Kai leaned in slightly. “We all help out at one of her charity events to pay it forward. It’s kind of become tradition.”
“Sounds like a good crew,” Buck said, eyes scanning the room as Cruz nudged Lexie out of the way with her hip.
Kai nodded. “It is. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve got personalities, same as any house. But Mac’s pulled together something special. We work hard, and we find time to unwind too. At least once a month we do a big movie night, projector, popcorn, one of the hangars turned into a makeshift theatre. It’s cheesy, but it’s fun.”
Buck smiled at the mental image. “Tommy’s mentioned a few things. Sounds like the station’s changed a lot.”
“Night and day,” Kai agreed, grabbing a pair of tongs. “Not all of us hang out outside of work, but when we’re on shift? We’ve got each other’s backs. Makes everything run smoother.”
Buck nodded slowly, the words settling heavier than he expected. He couldn’t help the flicker of envy that crept in, not just at the ease of how things worked here, but at how clean it felt. Everyone was connected, but not tangled. There were inside jokes and shared routines, but no blurred lines. No unspoken weight hanging between calls.
They got along, sure. But they weren’t living on top of each other emotionally. There were boundaries. Respect. Space to breathe.
And maybe for the first time, it struck Buck just how different this felt. All he’d ever known was the 118. That messy, loyal, ride-or-die closeness had been his foundation, but this? This felt like the fresh start he wanted. Maybe even the one he needed.
Kai glanced at him sideways. “I don’t know everything going on, man. But if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m around. You’ve got my number.”
Buck’s throat tightened just slightly at the quiet offer. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
Kai gave him a small smile. “Good. Now come on, let’s eat before Aiden clears out the table.”
“Hey! I heard that!” Aiden called through a mouthful of food, waving a chicken wing in protest as the table cracked up.
Buck laughed and followed Kai toward the buffet line, the scent of warm food and the sound of easy camaraderie wrapping around him like something familiar, and maybe, if he let himself really feel it, something he’d been missing for a while.
He filled his plate with a little of everything, roast chicken, garlic rice, a spicy vegetable medley that smelled incredible, then grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and turned back toward the room. Aiden scooted over without being asked, clearing a spot between himself and Kai with a grin.
The hum of conversation wrapped around Buck, loose and easy, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the scrape of forks on plates. Then a fresh wave of laughter rippled through the space as the door swung open.
Tommy strolled in, flight suit tied low around his waist, sleeves rolled up, a streak of grease smudged across one cheek like he’d just walked out of a training montage. J.J. followed close behind, tugging the band from her braid and shaking her hair loose with a dramatic sigh.
“Well,” Tommy said, eyes sweeping the room before landing squarely on Buck. “Look who survived his first morning with Alpha.”
Buck smirked. “Barely. Lexie tried to take me out with a carabiner.”
“It slipped,” Lexie replied, all innocence. “Allegedly.”
J.J. dropped into a chair, already stealing veggies off Harper’s plate, and pointed it at Buck. “Still vertical? Colour me impressed.”
Tommy slid into the seat beside Buck, bumping his shoulder lightly, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes without saying a word.
“You good?” he asked, voice low enough not to carry.
Buck met his eyes, the teasing fading just for a second. “Yeah,” he said quietly, the smile that followed softer than before. “I’m good.”
Tommy leaned in slightly, voice low. “Proud of you, you know.”
Buck glanced over, startled by the sincerity, but before he could answer, the station tones dropped overhead, sharp and sudden.
“All Alpha units, prepare for deployment—motor vehicle over cliff, Pacific Palisades. Air and rescue support requested.”
Chairs scraped back in unison. Lunch forgotten.
Tommy was already on his feet. “Showtime.”
****
The roar of rotors cut through the wind as the rescue chopper circled overhead, kicking up grit from the narrow bluff. Buck stood a few paces back from the edge, helmet clipped to his belt, vest dusted with ocean salt and windblown sand. From their vantage by the command vehicle, he could see everything, the twisted wreckage of an SUV that had gone over the guardrail, lodged partway down the craggy slope, and a second car stalled at the top, its front tires hugging the gravel lip, dangerously close to following the first.
Alpha team moved fast and without hesitation as Mac called out orders. Buck tracked each movement like it was a blueprint being etched into memory.
Lexie was already clipped in, rope hissing through her belay as she descended the jagged slope with surgical precision. Blake stood steady at the anchor point above, adjusting tension and feeding line with calm assurance, the kind that only came from hours of trust and repetition.
Aiden followed next, med bag slung across his back, descending slower but steady. As soon as he reached the vehicle, he dropped into a crouch, voice low and even over the radio.
“Driver semi-conscious, shallow breathing. Passenger alert but pale. Possible internal trauma. We’ve got entrapment on the passenger side, minimal movement until Lexie confirms structural stability.”
Buck couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in that rhythm, not adjacent to it, but inside it. Part of the flow.
Behind them, Harper stood at the portable comms rig, one hand on her headset, the other flying across the touchscreen as she relayed updates between dispatch, the air unit, and two inbound ambulances.
“Wind holding steady at eleven knots,” she called. “Window for lift is tight, ten minutes max before conditions turn.”
Mac didn’t flinch. Just gave a single nod, arms crossed, eyes narrowed behind mirrored lenses.
“This is what it’s supposed to look like,” she said, her voice low, meant only for Buck. “Pressure without panic. Trust without second-guessing.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed Lexie as she reached the crumpled vehicle, Aiden already at the driver’s side. Cruz was midway through rigging the lower haul line, boots crunching over gravel as she moved across the slope.
Then Buck’s focus snagged on something. The second car, positioned just past the first, sat at a bad angle, its front tires barely hugging the gravel lip. The ground around it shifted in subtle, ominous patterns as Cruz approached the anchor point.
Something about the slope was wrong.
He narrowed his eyes, scanned the angle of descent, the grain of the rock, the way it flaked beneath pressure.
That’s when it hit him.
“Wait…hold up!” Buck called, voice cutting sharp through the wind.
Mac turned. Cruz paused.
Buck pointed. “That outcrop, right behind Cruz, it’s undercut. If she anchors there, it’s going to shear. You plant weight wrong, the whole rig’s compromised.”
Mac’s gaze followed his line of sight. Her jaw ticked once.
“Cruz, shift your anchor left six feet,” she ordered. “Blake, redistribute the load.”
No hesitation. No pushback.
“Copy,” Cruz replied, already moving.
Mac looked back to Buck, and something shifted behind her sunglasses. Approval.
“Good eye,” she said. “You just saved them from a fall.”
Buck nodded, heart still hammering in his chest. He wasn’t used to being heard that quickly or trusted that completely.
But here, they listened. They adjusted.
The rest of the rescue unfolded with smooth precision, the victims stabilized and lifted, lines retracted, the wind picking up just as predicted.
And for the first time all day, Buck didn’t feel like a visitor or a shadow.
He felt like part of the team.
****
The sun had dropped lower in the sky by the time they returned to the station, golden light slanting through the high windows of the hangar and catching on dust in the air. Most of Alpha team had peeled off to clean gear or grab a quick shower before the evening briefing. Buck lingered in the garage bay a moment longer, watching Blake coil a rope with unconscious precision, Lexie nudging Cruz with a crooked grin as they walked toward the lockers.
It was quiet in that way stations got between calls, everything still, but not asleep. Just recharging.
Mac found him leaning against the open side door of the rescue truck, unwrapping a protein bar he didn’t really plan to eat.
“You did good today,” she said simply, stepping up beside him. She didn’t look at him at first, just surveyed the space like she was checking for any pieces left out of place. “You didn’t flinch. Spoke up when it mattered. Knew when to observe and when to act.”
Buck let out a quiet breath. “Thanks. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I’d fit in here. They move different.”
Mac finally looked over, her mouth quirking in something between a smirk and a smile. “They do. This station runs on a different rhythm. Took a while to find it, longer to protect it.” She paused, arms folding loosely. “Which is why I don’t say this lightly.”
Buck turned fully toward her.
“I meant what I said, today wasn’t a test,” Mac continued. “But I was watching. We all were. And you didn’t just keep up. You read the scene. You stepped in when it counted.”
She nodded once, her voice steady but warmer now. “I’d like you to give serious thought to transferring over here.”
The words hit like a truck.
“Wait… really?” Buck blinked.
“Really,” Mac said, one brow lifting, the corner of her mouth tugging into something close to a smile. “I’m building something here, Buck. And if you want in, really want in, there’s a place for you…as Lieutenant on Alpha team. You’d need a few certifications, some air and marine protocol training, but nothing you can’t handle.”
Buck’s heart thudded unevenly, thrown off by the weight of it all, possibility, validation, the sudden shift in what he thought this day would be.
“That’s… a lot to consider,” he said quietly, the honesty in his voice catching even him off guard.
Mac smiled. “That’s all I’m asking. Consider it. You’ve got the skill, the instinct, the heart. What you don’t have,” she said gently, “is a reason to keep holding yourself back.”
Buck looked at her then, really looked. And for once, he didn’t feel like someone was sizing him up just to figure out where he’d fall short. She wasn’t testing him. She believed in him.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, voice quiet but sure.
Mac nodded once, satisfied. “Good. And Buck?”
He looked back at her.
“You don’t have to prove yourself here. You just have to be yourself. That’s enough.”
Then, a little softer: “Go do your shift. Get some sleep after. Take a breath before you make any big decisions. Just… don’t let the comfort of what’s familiar keep you from what’s possible.”
****
Buck had just zipped his duffel when he heard the familiar sound of boots on polished concrete.
“Thought I’d missed you,” Tommy said, appearing in the hallway outside the gear bay, still in his flight suit, hair slightly wind-tossed.
Buck looked up, startled, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You almost did.”
Tommy stepped closer, voice lower. “So? How was it?”
Buck let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Intense… but kind of incredible, if I’m being honest.”
Tommy raised a brow. “Lexie didn’t try to drop you on your head?”
“She tried. Failed.” Buck grinned, then sobered. “Mac pulled me aside before I left. Said she wants me to seriously consider transferring… for the lieutenant position on Alpha.”
Tommy blinked, the words clearly landing with more weight than expected. “She offered you lieutenant?”
Buck nodded slowly. “She said I’d need some certifications. Some training. But she wants me there. Says she sees potential in me.” His voice dropped, rough around the edges. “She wants me.”
Tommy’s eyes searched his for a long moment. “You okay?”
Buck swallowed, the corners of his mouth twitching like he couldn’t decide between a smile or something more fragile. “I think so,” he said quietly. “I just… I didn’t expect it. She kind of hinted at it when we first talked, but I didn’t let myself believe it.”
Tommy didn’t answer right away. He stepped in closer, eyes steady, warm. “Maybe it’s time you start believing people when they see something good in you.”
Buck let out a breath, half laugh, half disbelief. “Working on it.”
Tommy smiled, soft and sure. “Good. ’Cause she’s not wrong, you know.”
They stood there for a moment until Tommy nudged his shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back.”
Buck met his gaze. “I know.”
And he did.
Buck stepped forward and pulled Tommy into his arms, resting his forehead gently against his. He exhaled slowly, then leaned in and kissed him, the kind of kiss that still gave him butterflies, even after everything.
When he pulled back, a quiet smile played on his lips. “You being here… it means everything,” Buck murmured. “I honestly don’t know how I’d do any of this without you.”
Tommy shook his head, thumb brushing lightly along Buck’s jaw. “You could. You’re stronger than you realize, Evan. You always have been.”
Buck’s smile deepened. “Then I’m just glad I don’t have to.”
Tommy grinned and leaned in for another kiss, quicker this time, but no less full of affection.
“Now go,” he said, nudging him back with a playful shove. “Before you’re late and Chim starts sending passive-aggressive group texts.”
Buck laughed, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Tommy said, watching him with a fond smile. “Come over when your shift is done?”
“Definitely.”
Notes:
Buck has some big decisions to make! I hope you enjoyed his shadow shift with the 217! I'm enjoying writing the world of 217, so many possibilities!
Thank you again for all the love and comments on the last chapter and enjoyed the trivia night!
Always love to hear your thoughts and hoped you enjoyed this part 1! xo
Chapter 19: The Longest Shift – Part 2
Summary:
After a brutal shift, Buck finds solace in the one place that still feels like home and begins to imagine what it might mean to choose himself...for once.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sun had dipped low by the time Buck pulled out of the 217 lot, the sky bleeding into shades of coral and smoke. His duffel sat in the passenger seat, straps curling toward the floor, the faint smell of sweat and helicopter fuel clinging to the fabric. He rolled the window down, let the wind tangle through his hair as the city blurred by.
His hands were still a little shaky.
Not from exhaustion, though that lingered in the dull ache of his shoulders, but from something quieter. The adrenaline of the day was wearing off, leaving behind a weight he couldn’t quite name. Pride. Uncertainty. Maybe even hope.
Mac had offered him a path. A new one. And Tommy... Tommy hadn’t hesitated for a second before grounding him in it.
He replayed their goodbye in his head, Tommy’s voice, soft and certain, the press of his hand, the way he’d said “Love you” like it was the simplest truth in the world.
And it was.
Buck’s fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as traffic thickened. Sunset blurred against his windshield, glowing hot along the edges, before softening into dusk. The closer he got to the 118, the tighter his chest felt.
The building looked the same when he pulled in but the air felt heavier here. Like he was stepping back into a version of himself he wasn’t sure still fit.
He parked, engine ticking quietly as it cooled. For a moment, he didn’t move.
Twelve hours.
Twelve hours in a place that used to feel like home. That still should have felt like home.
Buck exhaled through his nose, rubbed his palms over his jeans, and grabbed his bag.
He didn’t expect a welcome party, but Ravi was already leaning against the edge of the bay when he stepped inside, arms crossed, posture loose.
“You look like you’ve already done a shift,” Ravi said, pushing off the wall.
“I did,” Buck replied, shouldering his bag. “At the 217.”
Ravi blinked, the grin fading into something closer to concern. He lowered his voice. “That was today?”
Buck nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Did a twelve-hour shift with them.”
Ravi let out a low breath, brows lifting. “How’d it go?”
Buck hesitated, eyes flicking toward the far end of the bay before settling back on Ravi. “Good,” he said finally. “Actually… really good.”
He could see the hesitation in Ravi’s expression, the flicker of something held back. His friend was trying to be happy for him, Buck knew that, but the weight behind his eyes said it all, he understood what good might mean. Understood that Buck was really thinking about leaving.
“Nothing’s been decided,” Buck added quickly, nudging Ravi’s shoulder with his own. “So don’t go picking out a goodbye card just yet.”
Ravi sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. I am happy for you, you know I am. But I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t want to be a little selfish and convince you to stay.”
Buck let out a soft laugh. “I appreciate that.”
He paused, then looked Ravi in the eye. “But if I do end up leaving… it doesn’t mean I’m disappearing. I’m not going far. We’ll still see each other. And I’m only a phone call away, any time, for anything. I wouldn’t just abandon you because I moved on from the 118.”
Ravi didn’t answer right away. Just nodded, quiet and thoughtful, before nudging Buck back.
“You better not,” he said, managing a half-smile. “I’m not above bribing your boyfriend to make sure you still spend time with me.”
Buck laughed, and this time it stuck a little longer. “You’d probably have better luck bribing him with snacks.”
“Noted,” Ravi said, already turning toward the kitchen. “So... coffee, questionable leftovers, and a healthy dose of denial to get us through the night?”
Buck slung his bag into his locker, the familiar clang echoing in the quiet. “Sounds about right.”
****
The roof was quiet.
Cool air brushed against Buck’s face as he leaned on the ledge, elbows braced, eyes tracking the last streaks of amber sliding off the skyline. The city below glowed in patches, streetlights flickering on, windows warming with life, the quiet hum of LA settling into evening.
He’d always liked the roof. The space. The stillness. The way it let the noise of the station fall away until all that was left was breath and sky and whatever he was trying to make sense of.
And tonight… there was a lot.
Twelve hours at the 217. A full shift with Mac’s team. And then, at the end of it…her offer.
Lieutenant.
Even now, the word didn’t quite feel real in his mouth. Not because he didn’t want it. But because somewhere along the line, he’d stopped imagining people might still see that kind of potential in him, especially after the past year. After Bobby. After everything.
But Mac had. She hadn’t just wanted him on her team, she wanted him to help lead it.
It was a big decision. Bigger than he was ready to admit out loud.
And yeah, it terrified him.
Because he was standing at a fork in the road.
One path led back to the 118, to what was familiar, to the people he still loved, even now, despite the hurt and the distance. To the pieces he might try to glue back together, even if they’d never quite fit the same.
The other led toward the unknown. Toward the 217. Toward a version of himself he was only just starting to see clearly, who he was now, and who he could become if he stopped waiting for permission to grow.
Stay… or leap.
The rooftop door creaked open behind him.
He didn’t move.
Hen’s footsteps were soft, measured. She crossed the distance slowly, stopping just shy of the ledge.
She didn’t speak right away. Just stood beside him, watching the horizon. The silence stretched. Not companionable. Not tense. Just full of all the things they hadn’t said in too long.
Buck didn’t look at her. “If you came up here to say something, Hen—” he said, voice low, “I’m too tired for another half-conversation.”
“Buck—” Her tone carried a quiet reprimand, just enough to chide, like she didn’t appreciate the edge in his voice.
But Buck didn’t offer an apology. They’d done this song and dance before, and he just didn’t have it in him tonight to pretend it hadn’t worn him down. He wasn’t going to smooth things over just to make her more comfortable.
He finally turned to her, eyes shadowed under the rooftop lights. “You came all the way up here. So either say what you came to say, or don’t. But don’t stand there acting like I’m the one picking a fight.”
Hen looked away, jaw tight. She rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, then let out a breath.
“You’re right,” she said finally. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. Kept thinking maybe I’d get the words right if I gave it enough time.”
Buck gave a humourless laugh. “You’ve had months.”
“I know.”
He didn’t push. Just waited.
Hen glanced over at him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. You were right. About everything. About us not being there for you. About me making assumptions.”
She paused, her voice dipping lower.
“I saw you struggling, Buck. I did. I just... didn’t ask. I didn’t show up. I figured you’d eventually pull yourself together...” Her voice wavered slightly. “And that wasn’t fair.”
Buck swallowed, throat tight. But he didn’t let her off the hook.
“No. It wasn’t.”
Hen’s gaze dropped to the ground between them, shoulders rounding. “We weren’t there for you. I wasn’t. You were grieving, and instead of helping... I judged you. Kept my distance. And told myself it was tough love or some bullshit like that, when really…I just didn’t want to deal with how much you were hurting.”
Buck’s voice came quieter, but steady. “You weren’t the only one.”
“I know that too.”
He shifted, arms still crossed. “So what is this, Hen? A late apology? An explanation?”
Hen shook her head slowly. “More like… both. I’ve spent so long thinking of you as the guy who bounces back. The one who always finds a way to claw through whatever’s thrown at him. I forgot that even the strongest people need a hand sometimes.”
Her voice softened. “I forgot that being family means showing up. For the good and the bad. Especially the bad.”
Buck let out a slow breath, eyes locked on the skyline. “It wasn’t just forgetting, Hen. It was silence. It was judgment. It was all of you thinking the worst of me. And being okay with letting me drown.”
Hen’s next words came quieter, almost choked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should’ve done better. We all should have.”
Buck nodded slowly, but the ache in his chest didn’t lift. He appreciated the apology, but a part of him was wondering if it came too late. Her words didn’t patch over the months he’d spent trying to claw his way out of the hollow they’d left him in.
He stared out at the lights of the city, something sharp working its way up from his gut.
“Do you even see me, Hen?” he asked finally, voice rough. “Or am I still just the twenty-something kid who acts first and thinks later?”
Hen’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide with something between shock and guilt.
“Because I’ve changed,” Buck continued, gaze fixed on the city lights. “I’ve grown. I’ve tried. And yeah, I’ve made mistakes, but I’m not that kid anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.”
His voice thickened, frustration bleeding through.
“But no one seems to notice. I’m still treated like I need to be managed. Like any time I stumble, it’s proof I haven’t grown. I’m held to a different standard, a lower one…and it’s exhausting.”
He paused, jaw tight, breath uneven.
“I’ve worked just as hard as the rest of you. I’ve earned just as much trust. So why does it still feel like I’m always one step away from being written off?”
Hen didn’t seem to know how to respond.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, like every possible reply sounded wrong before it even reached her lips. Because maybe there wasn’t anything she could say to make it better. Not tonight. Not after months of distance and silence.
So she stood there instead, shoulders tense, gaze flicking down to the concrete between them.
“I… don’t know,” she said finally, her voice low. “You’re right. You’ve been right about all of it.”
She looked up, eyes glassy but steady. “And the fact that you had to say all this out loud to make me see it… that’s on us.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. The rooftop was quiet again, the silence no longer peaceful, just heavy.
“I thought we were a family, Hen,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “But these past few months… we’ve felt more like strangers.”
He paused, the next words catching in his throat before he forced them out.
“You know the last thing Bobby said to me before he died?” His voice cracked, just slightly. “He said you guys would need me. And that I’d be okay.”
Buck let out a bitter breath, eyes still fixed on the skyline.
“He was wrong on both counts.”
Hen didn’t speak.
The shock of it was there on her face, etched into the stillness of her expression. Like maybe, for the first time, she truly understood just a fraction of what he’d been carrying.
She’d been there with Bobby in the lab, but she hadn’t known. None of them had. They hadn’t known he was dying.
But Buck didn’t have the luxury of that ignorance.
He’d known the second Bobby pulled off his mask. Known in the way his voice softened. In the finality of his words. The moment had split his world clean in two, before and after .
And Bobby’s last words had lodged in his chest like shrapnel. They’ll need you. You’re going to be okay. I love you, kid. Over and over. A loop he hadn’t been able to shut off since.
Hen’s voice came quiet, raw. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
Buck didn’t hesitate. “Me neither.”
And for a moment, neither of them tried to fill the silence. They just stood there, side by side in the dark, the city humming below them, the weight of loss and everything unspoken still hanging between them.
But at least now, finally, they were both facing it.
****
The call came in just after five, a multi-vehicle collision on Highland and Melrose from a possible DUI.
Buck hated those calls. They all did. Didn’t matter how many you ran, how many outcomes you tried to predict on the way over. It was always bad. And when alcohol was involved, it was rarely the drunk driver who paid the price.
He barely registered the dispatcher’s voice over the crackle of the radio. His head ached from lack of sleep, and his gear felt heavier than usual as he climbed into the rig, hands working on muscle memory as he clipped his radio into place and tugged his jacket down.
No one talked on the ride. Even Chimney was quiet.
Buck leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half-closed, trying to pull his thoughts into a straight line. He couldn’t stop replaying the rooftop in his head, Hen’s voice, raw with something like regret. The weight of what he’d said to her, what he hadn’t said sooner.
He didn’t want to carry any of it into the next call, but it was already sitting behind his ribs like pressure building before a collapse.
The rig slowed as they approached the scene, and Buck sat up straighter, reaching for his helmet.
And then he saw it.
The intersection looked like a war zone.
A minivan was jackknifed against a utility pole, its passenger side crumpled inward like foil, the rear axle twisted at a brutal angle. It was further pinned by another two cars. An SUV had slammed into a fire hydrant, front end obliterated, water gushing into the street like it was trying to wash the scene clean. A sedan sat crooked in the crosswalk, trunk caved in, airbag unfurled like a shroud.
Glass crunched beneath his boots as Buck stepped down. Fluids bled across the pavement, slick and iridescent in the early light. The air stank of gasoline, smoke, and something worse.
People were screaming.
A woman sat on the curb, sobbing, blood smeared down her arms. A man staggered through the wreckage, dazed and shouting a name Buck couldn’t make out. And then, sharp, unmistakable, the high, panicked voice of a child.
“Help! Please…somebody!”
Buck’s heart kicked hard in his chest.
"Hen, take triage!" Chimney barked. "Ravi, grab the tools. Eddie, get eyes on the SUV!"
But Buck was already moving.
He broke into a run, dodging twisted bumpers and smoking debris as two bystanders flagged them down near the wrecked minivan.
“There’s a kid inside!” one of them cried. “I don’t know which car he is in—”
Another voice joined in. “It was the van! I heard him in the back…he was begging for help!”
Buck pivoted toward the minivan, heart hammering. The back end was crushed and half-pinned between the pole and the crumpled frame of a silver sedan. The van’s windows were shattered, its roof buckled, rear hatch barely recognizable.
And then—
“Please! It hurts…please…help me—”
The voice was faint, high and broken.
“I’m coming kid, just hold on we’ll get you out of there.”
He dropped to his knees beside the van, running gloved hands along the frame. Every inch of the metal screamed with tension. The back was jammed in tight, no way the hatch would open clean. He couldn’t see inside, just a tangle of broken seats and a single bloody handprint smeared across the inside glass.
Mel appeared at his side, panting, already snapping gloves on.
“Please! It hurts—” the kids voice came again, this time weaker.
“We’re coming, I promise.”
“Cold... tired...”
“We’re losing him,” Mel said. “I’ll call it in to Cedars get a trauma team on standby.”
“Good,” Buck said tightly. “We’re gonna need a miracle.”
Buck looked up just in time to catch Mac and two members of Alpha team, Lexie and Blake, standing with the battalion chief at the edge of the scene. Observing.
No pressure.
“We can’t cut from that side,” Mel said. “Too unstable. Gas line’s compromised.”
“We’ll go in from the rear,” Buck said. He keyed his radio. “Ravi, I need spreaders and lift bags. Bring the cutters too, we’re gonna have to build the access ourselves.”
“I’m on it,” Ravi’s voice crackled.
Buck stood and spun toward the nearest cluster of firefighters, some from the 104, a few unfamiliar.
“Kai! Cruz!” he shouted, spotting the 217 jackets. “I need stabilization on this side, wedge and crib every point you can find. Harper, can you run backup comms with Hen? We might need a secondary evac path if this goes bad.”
“Got it,” Harper nodded, already moving.
“Cruz, go wide with the struts,” Buck said. “Frame’s compromised, we don’t want this thing folding in on itself mid-extraction.”
The wreck groaned beneath their hands, metal flexing as Cruz slid the first strut into place. Steam hissed from a cracked radiator nearby, mingling with the acrid stink of fuel and scorched rubber. Buck’s gloves were already slick with something he didn’t want to identify.
Ravi arrived with the tools, dropping hard beside Buck. “Spreaders, cutters, lift bags. Hydraulic power’s up.”
“Start on the left hinge,” Buck ordered. “Once we get lift here—” he gestured to the rear axle, “—we’ll crawl in enough to get the kid stabilized.”
The van shuddered slightly as the lift bags inflated, Ravi monitoring pressure, Kai reinforcing the struts. It wasn’t enough, not yet, but the gap was growing. Three inches. Four.
“Please...” the kid whimpered, barely audible now. “Cold…”
“I know, buddy,” Buck said, crouching low, eyes scanning the opening. “We’re gonna get you out. Just hold on.”
“Leg looks pinned,” Mel confirmed, voice sharp with focus. “You get me room, I can start a drip and wrap the bleed.”
“Ravi, switch to cutters, angle away from the gas line.” Buck’s mind worked faster than his body. Every second mattered.
“Cruz…tension on the frame’s shifting,” Kai called. “We’re losing the wedge on the passenger corner!”
Buck snapped up. “Double brace it now! Ravi, back off the cutter until that’s locked. We’re not risking collapse.”
The whole street felt like it held its breath as Harper radioed in to Hen, relaying progress, requesting a medevac standby.
Buck crawled in further, shoulder and chest scraping against twisted seat backs, until he could see the boy’s face, pale, streaked with blood and glass, eyes fluttering but unfocused.
He didn’t look older than ten.
“Hey,” Buck breathed, voice cracking. “You’re not alone, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.”
The boy didn’t react.
“Mel, I’m gonna stabilize his neck. Ravi, you’re with me on extraction once the last cut’s made.”
When the final cut gave way, Buck didn’t wait, he slid his arms under the boy’s small frame, cradling him as gently as he could, careful of the leg that had been pinned.
“Transport now,” Mel called, voice sharp with urgency. “We don’t have time for an on-scene wrap.”
“Ravi, clear a path,” Buck ordered without looking. “Harper, we need that priority evac now.”
Everything moved at once.
Ravi stepped wide, pushing aside the last fragments of crumpled metal. Kai shouted confirmation that the frame was stable enough to move through. And Buck shifted forward, arms cradling the boy as delicately as he could, mindful of every fractured rib, every limp limb and soaked bandage.
The child weighed next to nothing.
But in Buck’s arms, he felt like the whole damn world.
The boy was so pale. His skin had that awful waxy tone Buck recognized too well, shock, blood loss, trauma. There was so much blood. It had soaked through the back of his shirt and was now slicking down Buck’s forearm. His breathing was barely audible, ragged and thin.
Still, Buck whispered to him, like maybe his voice could anchor him here. “You’re okay. We’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
He didn’t know if that was true.
Didn’t know if the kid would make it to Cedars, if the trauma team would be fast enough, skilled enough, if fate would be kind enough. But Buck kept walking anyway, fast and careful, every step measured, until Mel reached for him to load him into the helicopter.
He hesitated for just a second before letting go.
Just a second longer than he needed.
Then he passed the boy into Mel’s waiting arms, and she didn’t waste a breath. “Go!” she snapped to the pilot, Buck didn’t recognize. “Vitals crashing, fly like your life depends on it.”
The helicopter doors slammed shut, as it took off. All Buck could do was stand there, hands still lifted like he could still feel the child’s weight. His gloves were soaked. His knees ached. His breath came too fast.
All this pain.
All this devastation.
Because someone decided to get behind the wheel drunk.
He heard someone retching behind the SUV. One of the younger firefighters. Another medic cursing softly under their breath.
Buck bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, swallowing down whatever was clawing up his throat.
It didn’t matter how many rescues he’d done, how many times they pulled people from fire or metal or water. It never got easier when they were this small.
And this broken.
Lexie was watching from the edge of the scene again, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Blake murmured something to Mac, who just nodded.
But Buck didn’t know why Alpha team was there. Right this second he didn’t care.
All he could think about was the boy’s voice. The way it had cried out, terrified, pleading, then gone silent. The way those tiny fingers had gone limp in his hand. The blood. The cold.
The unbearable quiet that followed.
He stood frozen beside the wreckage, gear still on, hands trembling slightly at his sides. The world moved around him in blurred motion, radios crackling, hoses winding, sirens fading, but Buck couldn’t seem to hear any of it.
Then—
“Hey,” came a voice, soft, close, steady.
Mel.
She stepped up beside him, eyes red-rimmed. Her face was pale, smeared with soot and grief, but her presence was calming. She didn’t speak at first. Just stood beside him in the silence.
Buck didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. If he did, he might break open completely.
“He was just a kid,” Buck said finally, voice barely more than breath. “He was scared. And then… he just…”
Mel’s breath hitched. “I know.”
Buck swallowed hard, the weight in his throat almost unbearable. “I was holding his hand. I could feel him slipping. One second he was there. The next…”
He trailed off.
For a moment, the silence between them was thick, aching.
Then Mel reached out, slow and gentle, and laid a hand on his arm, not as a medic, not as a firefighter, but as a friend. As someone who understood.
“You got him out,” she said quietly. “He heard your voice. He felt your hand.”
Buck blinked fast, jaw clenched, eyes burning. His hands still felt cold.
“You stayed with him,” Mel added, her voice steady. “That matters. You gave him a chance. Now it’s up to the doctors.”
He gave the smallest nod, just enough to show he’d heard her.
Mel gave his arm a firm squeeze, anchoring him for one brief second. “I’ll check in later, okay?”
Then she stepped back, boots crunching softly on broken glass, and left him standing there.
Alone again, in the hush that follows the worst kind of rescue, the kind that leaves your soul aching long after the scene is cleared.
He didn’t see Eddie across the scene, watching the moment from a distance.
All Buck felt was the ghost of a small hand in his. And the echo of a voice that wasn’t crying out anymore.
****
By the time they returned, it was nearly 8 a.m. The station was quiet, morning still clinging to the corners of the gear bay, shadows stretching long across the floor. Buck peeled off his turnout with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, trying to breathe through the static still buzzing in his chest.
He was the last one into the locker room.
Eddie was already on the bench, unlacing his boots, expression unreadable. His tone was dry, meant to be casual, maybe even teasing, but it landed like a slap.
“You know, you should know better by now than to show off at a scene for a pretty girl.”
Buck froze.
The words didn’t just sting. They cut, fast and deep. This was what Eddie thought of him?
He didn’t laugh it off. Didn’t deflect. Didn’t soften it to keep the peace.
He turned, slow and deliberate, his voice low and sharp. “You want to run that by me again?”
Eddie didn’t look up. “I’m assuming that’s your new girlfriend you’ve been so caught up with. But come on, Buck…a scene like that’s not exactly the place to flirt.”
Buck stared at him, breath catching.
The boy’s voice was still echoing in his ears… Please, help me. His small hand going still. The cold. The blood.
And Eddie was turning that into a joke?
He took a step forward, each movement tight and deliberate.
“That kid…” Buck’s voice trembled. “That kid might not make it. He was begging us to help him, and I was holding his hand while he faded. And you think that was me showing off?”
Eddie looked up finally, something faltering in his eyes, but Buck didn’t stop.
“I wasn’t flirting. I wasn’t posturing. I was trying to keep a kid alive.” Buck’s voice shook with fury. “And you —” he broke off, jaw clenched, chest rising hard. “You reduced me to some pathetic one-liner because what? You were angry? Jealous? I don’t even know anymore.”
The locker room went still, the kind of stillness that hums just before something shatters.
“I’ve been holding things together with duct tape and borrowed faith since the day Bobby died,” he said, each word like a wound. “I’ve been trying so damn hard. And all you did, all any of you did, was stand there and throw stones while I bled out on the floor.”
He didn’t wait for a reply.
Buck turned, yanked open his locker, grabbed his bag with trembling hands.
“You were supposed to be my friend. My family .” His voice was lower now, more dangerous. “But with friends like this…ho needs enemies.”
He didn’t look back.
The door swung shut behind him.
Buck didn’t get far.
He’d barely made it down the hall before Eddie caught up to him, his boots striking the floor too loud in the early quiet.
“Buck, wait—”
Buck spun so fast it startled them both. His eyes were wild, red-rimmed and shining with unshed fury.
“No.” His voice was sharp, final. “No, Eddie. You don’t get to chase me down now. You had your chance to talk to me like a human being two minutes ago. Instead, you decided to take a cheap shot. Like I’m some goddamn rookie trying to impress a pretty face.”
Eddie flinched, jaw tight. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Then how did you mean it?” Buck snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounded like you were implying I used a critically injured child as an excuse to flirt. Like I treated a rescue scene like it was a goddamn singles bar.”
The words hung between them.
Buck’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “I held that kid’s hand while we desperately tried to save him, to keep him holding on. And you… you …thought that was the moment to joke about who I might be sleeping with?”
Eddie’s face cracked then, guilt flickering behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.
Buck shook his head, furious and gutted. “That’s just so fucking disrespectful.”
Eddie exhaled sharply. “Buck—”
“Don’t.” Buck cut in, voice rising. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like I’m the one being irrational here.”
“That’s not what I meant—”
“But it’s what you said !” Buck’s voice cracked, fury laced with heartbreak. “And it’s not the first time, Eddie. Not even close .”
The room stilled.
Hen, Chimney, and Ravi stood frozen in place, stunned into silence, unsure whether to step in or stay out of it.
Buck stepped forward, shaking now, not with fear, but with rage. With grief. With every unspoken word he’d bitten back this past year finally breaking the surface.
“You want to know the worst part?” he whispered, voice raw. “I’m not even surprised you said it.”
Eddie looked up, startled.
“That’s what you do, right?” Buck continued, broken and rising. “You cut me down. You make me the punchline. You act like I’m always making everything about myself.”
His breath hitched, sharp, exposed.
“That’s what you said, wasn’t it? After Bobby’s funeral. That I was being selfish. You called it ‘The Trials and Tribulations of Evan Buckley—’” he laughed bitterly, “—‘a tragedy in 97 acts.’ Like my grief was just another performance.”
His laugh was hollow, bitter.
“And then you cornered me in your kitchen like you were ready to throw a punch.” Buck’s voice was sharp, cold. “Did you see me flinch? Scared this time you were actually going to hit me.”
“I was hurting—” Eddie started, but Buck cut him off.
“So was I!” he shouted, the words tearing from somewhere deep. “But I didn’t turn on you . I didn’t look at you and decide that the best way to deal with my pain was to diminish yours.”
His voice cracked, rage collapsing under the weight of grief.
His voice cracked. “You did that. You made me feel like Bobby’s death was my fault. Like if I’d just done more , he’d still be here. And you know what?” He let out a bitter breath. “For a long time, I believed you.”
Eddie stood frozen, guilt written across every line of his face. But Buck wasn’t done.
“And then what?” Buck went on, quieter now but no less furious. “You showed up with Chris like that was supposed to fix it? Like him being there would soften the blow you never had the guts to take back?”
Silence filled the station. Cold. Echoing. Heavy with everything that had never been said.
“Tommy, Athena, and I were willing to commit treason to save Chim. We broke protocols, went behind our chain of command, risked our careers because Chim was family. Do you really think for a second we wouldn’t have done the same for Bobby if we’d had the chance?”
Eddie’s voice was low. “That’s not—”
“We would’ve done anything,” Buck said, cutting him off. “ Anything. And you had the balls to tell me I didn’t do enough? You sat with that judgment. You watched me drown. And you let me believe I had failed him. That if you had been there, Bobby would still be alive.”
He laughed then, a hollow, bitter sound that didn’t come from amusement but from something fractured too deep to name. He heard the shift in the room, the sharp intake of breath, the quiet movement from Hen, Chimney, Ravi—but he didn’t look. Didn’t care.
His hands were shaking.
Eddie’s mouth parted, maybe to speak, maybe to defend, but Buck didn’t give him the chance.
“You told me that getting the call in the middle of the night and having to tell Chris was the worst thing.”
He took a step forward.
“But I was there. I stood in that lab. I looked Bobby in the eyes. I watched him take off his mask because he knew he wasn’t getting out. And I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t pull him out. All I could do was listen while he said goodbye and told me it would be okay. That he loved me.”
Buck’s voice cracked, completely this time. Like the grief had finally found the edges of his throat and split him open.
“And then you turned around and called me selfish. Said I made it about me.” His eyes were glassy now, lips trembling. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Eddie? To already be drowning in guilt, and then to have you , the person who was supposed to be my best friend, throw it in my face like I hadn’t done enough ?”
Buck’s breathing was uneven now, his chest rising and falling in sharp, broken stutters. His voice was hoarse, every word scraped raw.
“You all lost a captain that night. A friend. A leader.” He pressed a hand to his chest, like he could physically hold something inside from shattering. “But I—” He faltered, swallowed. “I lost a father.”
The silence that followed cracked wide open. Even the station felt like it had gone still.
“I loved him,” Buck whispered. “In every way that mattered. He believed in me…before I ever believed in myself. And I’ve been trying to live up to that. To be someone he’d be proud of. And the whole time…” His voice cracked. “You and Hen and Chim… you treated me like I was something to survive. Like I was too much.”
Eddie opened his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to defend, but the look on Buck’s face made him stop cold.
“I spent the last six months trying to be enough for all of you,” Buck said. “Trying to make myself small enough not to take up space. So I wouldn’t make your lives harder.”
His voice dropped to something quieter. Sadder. But steady.
“I tried to be what Bobby wanted me to be…for you . But I was always going to fail at that, wasn’t I? Because none of you needed me. None of you wanted me. You just wanted the idea of what we used to be. And I wasn’t allowed to outgrow that.”
Eddie stepped forward, tentative. “Buck—”
“No.” Buck’s voice was firm, final. His jaw trembled, but he didn’t look away. “I’m done. I’m done trying to carry the weight of everyone else’s grief on top of my own. I don’t owe you that anymore.”
He turned away, breathing hard. Raw. Shaking. Hollowed out and emptied by everything he’d said, and everything he hadn’t.
Eddie didn’t follow. No one did.
And for once, he didn’t look back.
****
Buck shut the car door with more force than necessary, the slam echoing into the stillness of the early morning. The sun was just beginning to crest over the hills, a pale, peach-colored light bleeding through the haze that blanketed the city. For a moment, the quiet almost convinced him he hadn’t just set fire to something that used to matter.
Then his hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white.
He didn’t move. Just sat there for a moment, his body still and spent.
His uniform was still damp with sweat, streaked with grime and grease from the call. His shoulders throbbed, his throat raw from yelling over sirens and chaos. It felt like he’d just finished a marathon.
No…like he’d been dragged through one. Every mile grinding him down until only the barest bones of himself remained. And even those felt brittle.
It had been a hell of a 24 hours. He started the car and pulled out of the lot, making his way to Tommy’s.
He’d started the shift feeling good, hopeful , even. His time with the 217 had been intense, but the kind of intense that pushed him in the right direction. That reminded him why he loved this job so much. The teamwork, the challenge, the focus it demanded, it had felt like something real again.
And then Mac’s offer, it had lit something in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. Purpose, maybe. A future he could actually see himself in.
And then came the call with the 118.
And Eddie.
The kid had been trapped under the wreckage, barely holding on, his small body pinned, blood soaking the rubble beneath him. Buck had worked desperately, hands steady despite the panic clawing at his throat. He’d murmured reassurances, tried to keep the boy breathing, here . Every second mattered. Every breath felt like a borrowed one.
And Eddie’s comment afterward, like Buck had been showing off. Like holding a dying kid’s hand, trying to keep him breathing, had somehow become performative . Flirtatious .
It had set something off in him. Like a match to dry kindling, fast, unforgiving, inevitable.
Everything he’d been holding back, the guilt, the anger, the grief, came rushing out. He barely remembered what he said, only that once the dam broke, there was no holding it back.
What he didn’t know, what he still couldn’t figure out, was what stung more: the words themselves, or the fact that some part of him had been waiting for them.
Expecting them.
Like he'd always known the clock was ticking on whatever fragile tether was holding them all together these days.
The road blurred past in soft streaks of early light, gold and pink painting the edges of the quiet streets. Buck took the familiar turns toward Tommy’s house on autopilot, each one loosening something in his chest. His grip on the wheel eased for the first time in hours, and he exhaled, long and low.
The house was still quiet when he pulled up, lights off, curtains drawn. It looked like Tommy was still asleep. Buck put the car in park and rested his head back against the seat for a beat, eyes closing briefly. His body ached in too many places to count, but it was the bone-deep kind of ache that came from being emotionally gutted.
The buzz of his phone broke the stillness.
He reached for it, thumb swiping the screen. A few missed calls. A handful of texts. But the one that caught him immediately was from Ravi.
Ravi: I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know you were holding all that in. Just let me know you’re alright.
Buck blinked hard. A lump rose in his throat as he read Ravi’s words, soft and simple,just checking in. Just making sure he was okay.
That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did. But after everything, after standing in the middle of the firehouse and spilling every cracked, bleeding piece of himself out into the open…it did .
For a moment, he didn’t respond. Just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The longer he looked at Ravi’s message, the more the silence of the car pressed in around him.
Then, slowly, he typed.
Buck: I’m ok. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for. I’ll call you later once I’ve cooled off. None of that was on you. You’ve been a true friend through all of this, Ravi. I mean that.
He hit send, then closed the thread before he could overthink it. If Ravi started carrying guilt over this too, Buck wouldn’t be able to stand it. That friendship—steady, uncomplicated—had been one of the only things keeping him upright lately.
Another buzz. A call this time.
Maddie.
Of course. Probably heard everything from Chim within ten minutes of it happening.
Buck stared at her name for a long second. He loved her, always would. But right now? He didn’t have the strength to be her little brother. Not after all that.
He declined the call and tapped out a message.
Buck: I’m fine. I’ll call you later. I just need some time.
He just needed space. To breathe. To not be anyone’s fixer or failure or disappointment.
The kind of space where he wasn’t expected to perform. Or apologize. Or be anything more than a tired man with too many bruises in too many places no one could see.
There were messages from Hen and Chimney too, he didn’t open them. He could already imagine what they said. Maybe guilt. Maybe defensiveness. Maybe just noise. Either way, he didn’t have the capacity to engage. Not now. He tucked the phone away and grabbed his bag from the passenger seat, the fabric still smelling faintly of smoke and damp concrete.
As he made his way up the path to Tommy’s door, another buzz lit up his screen.
Mel: As promised, I’m checking in. I called the hospital...kid’s still in surgery, but he’s holding on. Tell Tommy to spoil you a little extra today. You need it. Call if you need anything.
Mel: Also, you are my new partner for glow-in-the-dark ultimate frisbee. “No” is not an option. Full details at trivia night.
Buck snorted quietly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself. Mel.
God, she was a force. The kind of person who blew in like a hurricane and somehow left things more grounded in her wake. He might’ve met her through Tommy, but she’d carved out her own place in his life quicker than he expected. No pretence. No expectations. Just brutal honesty, quick wit, and the relentless kind of care that didn’t ask for anything in return.
He didn’t even know what glow-in-the-dark ultimate frisbee was, but he was pretty sure she’d make him love it anyway. Or at least tolerate it while she dragged him across. He made a mental note to Google it later. After rest. After everything.
But standing there on Tommy’s porch, reading her texts, something loosened in his chest.
It was the kind of friendship he hadn’t realized he was missing, people who saw him without needing him to be anything. Who didn’t know every version of Buck from before. Who didn’t hold him to the weight of what he used to be. It reminded him, again, that his world had become too small. Too entangled in the 118. Too defined by who he was to them instead of who he was on his own.
Being with Tommy again had cracked that wide open. And so had Mel. And Ravi. The people who showed up when he had nothing left to give.
There was a life outside the 118. And if any of the relationships he still had with the 118 were going to survive what came next, he was going to need to draw some lines. Real ones. Lines that didn’t blur every time someone was hurting and needed someone to carry it for them.
He exhaled, slow and shaky, and slipped the spare key from his pocket.
The lock clicked softly as he pushed open the front door. Inside, the house was quiet. Still. The kind of quiet that could hold you without crushing you.
His thoughts were a tangle, exhaustion and adrenaline still ricocheting off each other like they couldn’t decide which one was supposed to win. He shut the door behind him and let his bag drop by the couch, the soft thud sounding louder than it should’ve.
He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering for a second before he started to type.
Buck: Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it. Since ‘No’ apparently isn’t an option, I guess I’m looking forward to the details on this new glow-in-the-dark adventure you’re forcing on me. Keep me posted on the kid.
Buck: And… thanks, Mel. Really.
He hit send before he could overthink it.
Then finally, finally, he turned toward the bedroom.
He moved slowly, peeling off his clothes as he went. His shirt hit the hallway floor, followed by his undershirt, his pants. Normally, he’d feel guilty about leaving a trail behind in Tommy’s house. He was neat by habit, especially in someone else’s space. But right now? He didn’t have the energy for guilt.
All he wanted, needed , was to feel Tommy’s arms around him. To crawl into that bed, tuck himself against the solid weight of his boyfriend, and finally let himself breathe.
The bedroom door creaked open, soft in the morning hush. Tommy was still asleep, half-buried in blankets, the corner of one shoulder peeking out where the comforter had slipped. His breathing was steady, slow. Safe.
Buck didn’t bother with boxers or pyjamas or brushing his teeth. He just climbed in, careful not to jostle too much, and pressed himself in close. Chest to Tommy’s back. Forehead to the slope of his shoulder.
Tommy stirred but didn’t wake, just shifted slightly and let out a soft, familiar sound, his body instinctively curling toward Buck’s like he knew.
Buck closed his eyes. Let the warmth anchor him.
A few moments later, Tommy shifted beside him. Buck felt the subtle movement, the slow stretch of limbs, the sleepy exhale against his collarbone.
“Hey,” Tommy murmured, voice rough with sleep. “You’re home.”
Buck didn’t know if it was a slip of the tongue, but it warmed something in him all the same. That Tommy, even half-asleep, instinctively equated home with him.
“Just got in,” Buck said quietly, pulling Tommy closer, needing the contact more than he wanted to admit.
They lay like that for a moment, tangled in each other, the room still heavy with morning quiet. Buck’s arms wrapped tight around Tommy. Tommy’s hand found his and threaded their fingers together.
Then, like he could sense the storm churning beneath Buck’s skin, Tommy gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “What happened?” he asked softly. “Something’s bothering you.”
Buck didn’t answer right away. His throat felt thick, chest tight with everything he hadn’t let himself feel until now. His jaw clenched, breath hitching in the silence.
Tommy shifted again, turning fully to face him, sheets rustling in the stillness. His hand came up to cup Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye.
“Talk to me,” he said, voice low and coaxing, all quiet strength and care.
And that…that cracked something open.
Buck’s breath caught, then released in a ragged exhale. “There was a call. A kid,” he whispered, words catching. “Pinned under wreckage. God, he was so small.”
Tommy’s brows drew together, concern clouding his still-sleep-heavy features, but he didn’t interrupt. He just shifted closer, one arm wrapping around Buck’s waist, steady, grounding, warm.
“It was rough,” Buck began, voice low and raw. “There was just so much blood. And he was so scared. We worked as fast as we could, but…” His throat tightened. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling like looking anywhere else might break him.
“Mel says he’s still in surgery. Still fighting. But I can’t stop hearing him. Please, help me. ” Buck’s breath hitched. “It’s like it’s burned into my brain.”
Tommy’s grip tightened slightly, hand splaying across Buck’s back.
“And after,” Buck continued, voice cracking, “Eddie made a joke. Said I was showing off. That I was flirting with Mel. Like I used that moment to... impress someone. Like I wasn’t holding a dying kid’s hand, begging the universe to save him.”
Tommy went still.
Buck let the silence hang for a second before forcing the next part out. “He saw me talking to Mel and just assumed. And I lost it. I said everything I’ve been holding in. In front of everyone. About Bobby. About what Eddie said after the funeral.”
Tommy lifted his head, searching Buck’s face. “What did he say?”
Buck hesitated. Part of him wanted to brush past it, minimize it like he always did, but he couldn’t lie to Tommy. Not anymore.
“He told me I made it all about me. That I was being selfish acting like losing Bobby didn’t gut me.” He exhaled shakily. “He cornered me in the kitchen, and for a second…I thought he was going to hit me. He really scared me that night.”
Tommy’s whole body tensed. His eyes snapped open fully, sharp and awake now, all trace of sleep gone.
“Jesus, Evan,” he breathed. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Buck gave a small shake of his head, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not the first time he’s reacted like that.”
Tommy pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze head-on. “What?”
Buck forced a small, bitter smile. “It was a long time ago. We made our peace.”
“That’s no excuse,” Tommy said, voice rough with restrained anger. “No one should ever make you feel unsafe. Not ever.”
Buck leaned his forehead against Tommy’s, eyes closing as he let himself breathe. Just for a moment. Just to feel the steady thrum of someone who loved him deeply and without condition.
“He made me feel so guilty that night,” Buck whispered, the words catching as they left his mouth. “As if I wasn’t already carrying it. I asked him if he really thought I didn’t do everything I could to save Bobby.”
He paused, the memory flashing sharp behind his eyes.
“He said he didn’t know. Because he wasn’t there. Like that would’ve made all the difference.” Buck’s throat tightened. “Like I wouldn’t have done anything, everything, to save Bobby.”
Tommy’s jaw flexed. His arm slid up to cradle Buck’s shoulders, pulling him closer, like he could shield him from words spoken in anger and grief, even if they’d already done their damage. He pressed a kiss to Buck’s temple, gentle, comforting, but said nothing for a long moment.
Still, Buck felt it. The shift. The tension in his spine. The way his body coiled beneath the quiet.
When Tommy finally spoke, his voice was low and tight. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s what he said?”
Buck shook his head slowly, guilt flickering behind his eyes. “I didn’t want to make it your problem.”
Tommy shifted again, bracing himself on one elbow, his gaze sharp and unwavering as it met Buck’s.
“Evan,” he said firmly, “I am your person. If someone hurts you…it’s already my problem.”
Buck huffed a shaky breath, trying to hold Tommy’s gaze, but it was too much, too raw. He looked down, but Tommy didn’t let him retreat.
“I mean it, Evan,” Tommy said, his voice low but fierce now, no softness left. “If he ever talks to you like that again, I swear to god—”
Buck’s head snapped up, startled.
“I don’t care if he’s your best friend, your brother, your whatever.” Tommy’s jaw was clenched now, eyes burning. “He doesn’t get to tear you down just because he’s drowning too. That’s not how grief works. That’s not how friendship works.”
The heat in his voice had sharpened, turned protective and bristling and unmistakably his . Buck could feel it, how much Tommy meant every word. How angry he was on his behalf. Not just hurt for him, but furious that Buck had been carrying this pain alone.
And maybe Buck should have felt guilty for keeping it from him. Maybe part of him did. But right now?
Right now, all he could feel was this slow, dangerous warmth curling low in his stomach.
Something about Tommy like this, half-bare, hair mussed from sleep, muscles taut with protective fury, it hit him like a freight train. Not lust exactly, but something primal. Something that said this is mine, and I will defend it.
Tommy saw the look flicker across his face and narrowed his eyes. “What?”
Buck blinked, lips twitching. “You’re kinda hot when you’re mad.”
Tommy’s brows lifted, incredulous. “ Now is when you decide to flirt?”
Buck shrugged helplessly, still curled against him, voice quieter now but no less sincere. “Just… nice to feel like someone’s in my corner.”
Tommy exhaled, the anger dimming just slightly as he reached out and brushed a hand through Buck’s hair. “ Always , Evan.”
He leaned in, kissed him slow, nothing rushed, nothing demanding. Just a steady, grounding press of lips that said everything Buck didn’t have the words for yet.
When he pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against Tommy’s, breaths mingling between them.
“You’re kind of an idiot for not telling me sooner,” Tommy murmured.
“I know,” Buck whispered. “I just didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how to admit how much it still hurts. How far apart we’ve grown.”
Tommy’s expression softened, but his hand never stopped moving, sliding slowly down Buck’s spine in a steady, anchoring line. A touch that said stay . A promise that said I’m here .
“You know you’re not alone in this, right?” Tommy said quietly. “Not anymore.”
Buck nodded, barely. His eyes shimmered in the low morning light, holding just enough hope to keep him breathing. For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Buck shifted, fingers curling at the hem of Tommy’s shirt like a question he didn’t quite know how to ask. “Can I just… can we not talk for a while?”
Tommy didn’t need to answer. He pulled his shirt over his head, let Buck draw him down. The next kiss was deeper now, still unhurried, but thick with everything they hadn’t said for months. Everything they couldn’t say.
Buck rolled them, pressing close, slipping a leg between Tommy’s like he needed to feel every part of him. Not in control, not asking permission, just reaching for something real. Something safe. Skin met skin, warmth and want mingling in slow waves, fingers mapping familiar territory like it was new again.
Tommy’s breath hitched as Buck’s lips grazed his jaw.
“You sure?” he asked, voice low and careful.
“I need you,” Buck said. No hesitation. Just truth.
Tommy’s hand came up, cupping his face with a quiet intensity. “You have me.”
And then there was nothing but touch and breath and the ache of two people finding their way back to each other. They moved together like a tide, patient, powerful, unrelenting. Each kiss, each press of skin, each stuttering breath a way to say I love you without drowning in it.
Later, sunlight spilled across tangled sheets and flushed skin, soft and golden and alive. Buck lay on his side, one arm slung over Tommy’s chest, his fingers drawing idle patterns across warm skin. Tommy’s heart beat slow and steady beneath his palm, a quiet, constant rhythm.
Tommy had eventually dozed off again, one arm still loosely curled around Buck’s waist, his breathing deep and even. Buck stayed where he was, not ready to move, not ready to let go of the rare stillness he’d found in Tommy’s arms.
But the weight in his chest hadn’t disappeared. Just dulled.
He ran his fingers lightly across Tommy’s sternum, slow and aimless.
“I know I’m not in the right frame of mind to be making any decisions right now, but I don’t think I want to go back,” Buck said softly. The words weren’t sudden, but they still felt heavy.
Tommy’s eyes opened slowly. He didn’t speak right away, just adjusted so he could see Buck clearly. “Back to the 118?”
Buck nodded. “There’s too much hurt there, at least for me—” He exhaled sharply. “I just don’t think it’s a place I can grow, I just don’t know how to be there any more. Maybe with some distance we can heal and move forward, but I don’t think the 118 is my place anymore.”
A beat of silence passed before Buck added, voice barely audible, “I think I’m going to accept Mac’s offer.”
Tommy didn’t flinch. He didn’t try to talk him out of it.
Instead, his gaze softened. “Okay.”
Buck blinked. “Okay?”
Tommy nodded. “I want you happy, Buck. I want you safe. I want you to wake up and not dread walking into your station. And if the 217 gives you that, then I will support you 100%.”
Something in Buck cracked, but it wasn’t painful. It was relief.
“We can talk more later, when you’re in a better headspace,” Tommy said gently, his fingers trailing down Buck’s arm. “There’s no deadline on this. No pressure. But wherever you end up, I’m with you.”
Buck leaned in and kissed him. Just once. Just because he could.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of warmth and soft laughter. They took turns making pancakes and arguing over the correct way to flip them. Tommy burned one and blamed the stove.
There was no pressure, no ticking clock. Just shared looks across the kitchen island, quiet touches when they passed each other, the kind of easy intimacy Buck hadn’t realized he’d been craving until it wrapped around him like sunlight.
Later, they curled up on the couch, Tommy’s legs tangled with Buck’s, the morning news murmuring in the background, long forgotten.
Buck rested his head on Tommy’s chest and let himself breathe. He still had decisions to make. There were wounds that wouldn’t heal overnight. But for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel like something to brace for.
He’d never imagined a life beyond the 118. But now… now he could. And it wasn’t so scary anymore, not with Bobby’s voice in his heart, telling him to keep moving forward. Not with Tommy’s hand in his.
Whatever came next, Buck wasn’t alone.
Notes:
Posts and runs and hides.... I hope you liked part 2, this had been building for a while, sort of like the last piece that needed to fall into place before Buck was finally ready to move on!
Thank you again for all the love on the previous chapter, so glad you enjoyed Buck's time at the 217 and the future that lays before him!
Sorry the updates are going to be a little slower, work is killing me right now so I am falling behind on writing!
Hope you enjoyed this one and always love to hear your thoughts!
xo
Chapter 20: Tinderbox
Summary:
A routine call turns into something far more dangerous when the 217 is deployed to a rapidly escalating warehouse fire.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was days like this that reminded Tommy just how far things had come. There was a time, not that long ago, when these pickup games were more escape than enjoyment. A way to burn off frustration, to outrun the noise in his head. Back then, the laughter had been sharp-edged. The banter a shield. But now?
Now he could just enjoy it.
An afternoon on the court with Kai, Mel, and Jackson didn’t have to mean anything more than what it was, an hour to move his body, talk shit with his friends, and let the world slow down for a while. No expectations. No pressure.
The past few months had been hard, grief had a way of getting its hands around your throat and holding on, but lately, it felt like a weight had finally lifted.
Things with Buck…God, things with Buck were better than he ever let himself hope for.
They’d found a rhythm. They spent more days together than not. Cooking. Laughing. Sharing space like it meant something. It wasn’t about grand gestures or dramatic declarations. It was the contentment in Buck’s voice when he talked about the future. The soft touches passed between them like promises. The way Buck looked at him, like Tommy was something special. Sacred.
He’d slept over the night before, curled up on Tommy’s couch with a bowl of half-eaten pasta and bare feet tucked under a blanket they definitely didn’t need. They’d talked about nothing and everything, and Buck had fallen asleep against his shoulder, and Tommy had let himself hope.
He could see it, now. Buck at the 217. There . With him. With Alpha team. Building something that didn’t make him flinch every time he walked through the door.
He knew there would be challenges. Frustrations. He couldn’t exactly fly off the handle every time Buck jumped headfirst into a rescue without backup, which, let’s face it, was more likely to happen than not. But the idea of being there, side by side, watching Buck in his element ? It meant something.
Being first responders meant time was always a little borrowed. Their shifts didn’t always align, their off-days didn’t always match, and there were weeks where the only contact they had was a voicemail and a “thinking of you” text. But if Buck joined the 217, if they worked together on the same shift, that time wouldn’t have to be borrowed anymore. It would be theirs . Not stolen or squeezed in between disasters. Theirs.
Tommy would support Buck no matter what he chose. That had never been in question. But after everything that had happened these last few days, everything Buck had shouldered alone, Tommy couldn’t help but hope he’d choose himself this time.
Because the truth was, Tommy was disappointed. In the 118. In the people who’d claimed Buck like family, who always said they’d go to the ends of the earth for one of their own. So why hadn’t that applied to him ? Why hadn’t anyone reached out when it was obvious, painfully obvious, that Buck was drowning?
And Eddie…God, Eddie.
That one still twisted in his gut. Tommy had thought better of him. Had believed he was the kind of friend you could count on when everything else fell apart. But after what Buck told him, after what Eddie said… did , Tommy didn’t know who the hell that guy was anymore.
In hindsight, it was probably a good thing they’d broken contact when he and Buck had split. Because if he’d seen Eddie during that stretch of time? Tommy wasn’t sure he could’ve trusted himself to walk away.
The 217 wasn’t the 118. They weren’t family, not in the ride-or-die way Buck had once believed in. But they were solid . Reliable. Friends who had each other’s backs. As Kai would say, they worked hard, they played harder, and they showed up .
It would be a different kind of environment for Buck, but Tommy honestly believed he’d thrive in it. Less pressure to perform. More room to grow. A chance to just be himself without carrying everyone else’s expectations.
He still remembered what he told Buck the day they met, that he’d been jealous of the 118. Of the family they’d built. And at the time, it had been true.
But what they were doing to Buck now? That wasn’t family. That was abandonment dressed up in silence.
And Tommy? He’d found his own place. His own rhythm. His own balance. And if Buck wanted that too, wanted this , Tommy would be more than happy to share it with him.
But right now, none of that mattered.
What mattered was that Kai had just tried to dunk on Jackson and failed spectacularly , landing flat on his back with a thud and an undignified yelp.
“Travesty!” Mel shouted from the sideline, doubled over with laughter. “Get that man a walker and a life alert!”
“Shut up,” Kai groaned, still sprawled out, arms splayed like he was thinking about taking a nap right there on the court. “I had the lift. I just… misjudged the angle.”
Tommy snorted as he offered a hand down. “You had the confidence, I’ll give you that. Physics? Not so much.”
Jackson raised an unimpressed brow. “You’ll be waiting a long time, my guy. Might want to set a different goal. Like successfully tying your shoes without pulling a hamstring.”
“I’m a visionary , not a realist,” Kai said, brushing gravel off his back.
Tommy snorted. “Visionaries usually have working knees.”
Mel, already jogging to retrieve the ball, called back, “Can we get him a trophy that says Participation in Spirit ?”
“I hate all of you,” Kai muttered, grinning anyway.
They played on. The sun shining brighter, their legs got heavier, and the trash talk got worse . Tommy took a hard elbow from Jackson under the net and repaid him two plays later with a highly questionable hip check that earned him a dramatic gasp and a muttered “rude.” Kai redeemed himself with a lucky corner shot that banked in off the glass, pure chaos, zero technique, and then celebrated like he’d won the finals. Meanwhile, Mel quietly became unstoppable, sinking layup after layup like she’d flipped a switch no one else had access to.
By the time they called it, game point courtesy of a clean layup from Tommy, they were all gasping for air and soaked through with sweat, sprawled across the concrete like they’d just survived a natural disaster.
Mel tossed her water bottle from hand to hand, then glanced sideways at Tommy as she took a swig. “So… how’s Buck doing? I messaged him this morning, let him know the kid pulled through surgery. But I know he took that call to heart.”
Tommy let out a slow breath. “I think he finally started breathing after your text. Calls with kids always hit him harder than he lets on.” He paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He’s stress-baking today. Getting ready for dinner with Athena. Hopefully a few hours in the kitchen will work the rest of it out of his system.”
Mel smiled, soft and a little knowing. “I swear that man could open a trauma bakery. ‘Anxious Bakes by Buck.’”
Tommy huffed a laugh. “Don’t give him ideas.”
Mel laughed too, but the mischief in her eyes said she wasn’t entirely ruling it out. “I know that call was rough, but he should be proud of how he handled it. He stepped in when no one else was, and he called that scene like a pro.”
Kai perked up, already nodding. “Hell yeah, he did. He’d already impressed the team during the shift, but that call…” He let out a low whistle. “He impressed the hell out of everyone. Even Blake, who gets hives giving out compliments.”
Tommy smiled, warmth blooming in his chest at the praise. It felt good to hear, to witness , his friends recognizing Buck’s skill. Buck was confident in the field, sure. But he was also his own worst critic. Always chasing better. Always wondering if he’d done enough.
Maybe hearing it from people outside his usual orbit would help chip away at that self-doubt. Maybe this was what it could look like, being seen for who he was , not who he used to be.
Kai stretched his arms overhead, then slung his towel over his shoulder. “Speaking of… Mac didn’t give much away about why Buck was shadowing us last shift. Just told us to shut up and observe. But when she had us all pile into the rig to watch him work that rescue? We started wondering.”
He shot Tommy a sly grin. “Is your boy thinking of jumping ship? Taking a walk on the wild side with Alpha team?”
Tommy shrugged, keeping it light even as something warm flickered in his chest. He wasn’t sure how much Buck would want him to say, how much was his to share. But this was Kai, Mel. Jackson. It wasn’t going anywhere outside of this moment.
So he aimed for casual, even if it didn’t quite land. “That’s something you’d have to ask Evan.”
Kai let out a low whistle, clearly not buying the dodge. “That’s not a no.”
Mel grinned over the rim of her water bottle. “Translation… absolutely yes , but he’s being all respectful about boundaries and privacy and stuff.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “You two are the worst.”
Kai shrugged. “We just call it like we see it. And what we see is someone who’s been a lot less grumpy since a certain someone started hanging around more.”
Tommy raised a brow. “I’m never grumpy.”
Mel snorted. “You’re selectively cheerful. Big difference.”
Tommy shook his head, towel slung around his neck, still trying to fight the grin tugging at his mouth. The teasing was relentless, but it was rooted in care. And that meant something. A lot, actually.
Mel’s phone buzzed, and she gave it a quick glance. “Alright, I gotta go shift starts in an hour.”
Kai groaned. “Same. PT check-in with Blake. If I don’t make it out, tell my blender I loved it.”
“Godspeed,” Tommy offered dryly.
Mel bumped shoulders with him as she passed. “Seriously, tell Buck we said hey. And that next game, he’s got no excuses not to show.”
“I’ll tell him.”
They waved as they headed off, still trading insults, and just like that, the court was quiet again, heat rising off the pavement, the scent of sun-warmed asphalt and sweat lingering in the air.
Tommy moved to grab his bag but paused when he noticed Jackson hadn’t followed.
Instead, Jackson was still sitting on the edge of the court, elbows on his knees, gaze thoughtful.
“You good?” Tommy asked, brow furrowing.
Jackson shrugged. “Yeah. Just…” He looked over at him. “How you doing?”
The shift in tone was small but unmistakable. Tommy sank down beside him, letting out a breath.
“I’m alright,” he said honestly. “Better than I’ve been in a while.”
Jackson nodded. “You seem like it. Just figured I’d ask. Buck’s not the only one who’s been carrying a lot.”
Tommy let out a soft breath, gaze drifting toward the worn edge of the court. “It’s been a lot,” he admitted. “Not all at once, but… yeah. Some days it catches up to me.”
Jackson didn’t say anything, just waited, steady, patient in that way he always was when you needed space to get the words out.
“It’s hard,” Tommy continued, quieter now. “Watching someone you love go through hell. Knowing you can’t fix it. You can be there, hold steady, but the rest?” He shook his head. “It’s his to carry. And I hate that.”
Jackson gave a small nod, just enough to say he gets it .
“And then there’s the job,” Tommy added. “The pressure. The responsibility. Trying to keep things balanced. Be a good partner. A good lieutenant. Keep my own head on straight.”
“You’ve been doing all of that,” Jackson said.
Tommy smiled faintly. “Some days it feels like I’m just holding it together with duct tape and sarcasm.”
“Well,” Jackson said with a half-smile, “duct tape’s strong as hell. And your sarcasm’s award-worthy.”
That got a real laugh out of Tommy.
Jackson leaned back on his hands, looking up at the cloudless sky. “I’m glad you’ve got him. And I’m glad he’s got you. Whatever happens with the 217 or the 118… you two are good together. That’s obvious.”
Tommy’s throat tightened a little at that. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear it.
“Thanks,” he said, voice a little rough. “That means more than you know.”
Jackson bumped his shoulder. “Just sayin’...don’t forget to check in on you too. Even the rock needs a break sometimes.”
Tommy nodded, letting the words settle. “Yeah. I know.”
Tommy let the quiet hang for a moment, then glanced sideways. “What about you?”
Jackson arched a brow. “Me?”
“You’ve been here for everyone lately. Playing mediator, picking up extra shifts, stepping in where needed…just figured someone should ask how you’re doing for once.”
Jackson gave a half-smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m alright. Just... managing.”
Tommy tilted his head. “That’s a nice way of saying you’re running on fumes.”
Jackson huffed a laugh. “Maybe a little. It’s been a long couple of months. Ever since that brush fire call in Topanga, things have been kind of nonstop.”
Tommy nodded. He remembered the call, rough terrain, multiple injuries, long hours. It had taken a toll on everyone involved.
“I keep thinking I’ll get a weekend to myself,” Jackson went on, “but then something always fills the space. A shift. A favour. A friend who needs to vent over beers. I’m not complaining, it’s just…” He trailed off with a shrug.
Tommy bumped his shoulder gently. “You’re allowed to want a break, you know.”
Jackson gave him a look. “Says the guy who hasn’t taken a real one since…what, spring?”
“Touché,” Tommy said with a small grin.
They fell into an easy silence, the kind that only came with time and trust. The court was quiet now, the buzz of the city low and distant. No pressure to fill the space. Just being .
After a beat, Tommy nudged him gently with an elbow. “You should take some time for yourself. Maybe disappear for a weekend. Recharge.”
Jackson let out a low breath. “Yeah… maybe. I could use the quiet.”
Tommy gave him a sideways glance. “You sure you’re okay, man?”
Jackson hesitated—just long enough for Tommy to know he wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I just see you and Buck, and Sal and Gina, and… I don’t know. Feels like everyone’s finding their thing. Their person. And I’m just… watching from the sidelines.”
Tommy let the silence stretch, thoughtful. He could feel the ache behind Jackson’s words, one he recognized well. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ve been there.”
“So… I’m guessing you still haven’t asked Mel out?”
Jackson blinked. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Tommy said, deadpan. “I know you too well. I’ve seen the looks you give her. The way you hang on every word she says. I know she’s a friend, but come on, man…you like her.”
Jackson ran a hand through his hair, groaning softly. “Is it that obvious?”
Tommy smirked. “Only to everyone with eyes.”
Jackson huffed a laugh, half-embarrassed. “I don’t want to mess things up. She’s important to me. And if it’s not mutual…”
“I get it,” Tommy said. “But I also think you might be overthinking it. Mel’s sharp, she sees more than she lets on. And from where I’m standing? I think she already knows. And maybe she’s just waiting for you to catch up.”
Jackson went quiet again, thoughtful.
“You don’t have to rush,” Tommy added. “But don’t count yourself out before you’ve even stepped up to the line.”
Jackson let out a slow breath, the kind that sounded like it had been sitting in his chest for a while.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Maybe you’re right.”
Tommy gave him a look. “I am right.”
Jackson huffed a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing a little. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Tommy said, standing and slinging his towel around his neck. “And maybe don’t wait too long. Mel’s patient, but she’s not psychic.”
Jackson stood too, brushing dust from the back of his shorts. “Thanks, man. Really.”
Tommy gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Anytime.”
They bumped fists and Jackson turned to head toward the opposite end of the lot, tossing over his shoulder, “Tell Buck to bring snacks next time. I want cookies and a rematch.”
“I’ll let him know,” Tommy called back with a grin.
He lingered for a second, watching Jackson disappear towards his truck, then exhaled. The afternoon air was heavy with sun and sweat and something quieter beneath it, contentment, maybe.
Tommy pulled out his phone as he walked toward his truck, thumb tapping as he typed:
Tommy: On my way.
Tommy: Don’t stress-burn the lasagna.
The reply came almost instantly.
Evan: Too late. Smoke alarm’s already judging me.
Tommy huffed a laugh, the tension from the morning slipping a little more from his shoulders. He slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and headed home to Buck.
***
Tommy pulled into the lot behind Buck’s building and, grabbing his bag from the passenger seat, made his way inside, still smiling from the high of the game. His muscles ached in that satisfying way, and there was a lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He took the stairs two at a time and used his key to let himself into the apartment.
The moment the door opened, he was hit with the rich scent of garlic and basil, warm and comforting, the kind of smell that made a place feel like home.
Tommy exhaled slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He loved how much Buck loved to cook. He’d always said it grounded him, gave him something to focus on. Tommy could hold his own in a kitchen, sure, but Buck had quietly become a bit of a connoisseur, always experimenting, always adding a twist to the basics.
He stepped inside and found Buck in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with laser focus. The table had already been set, linen napkins folded just so, glassware polished. It was fancier than anything Tommy had seen outside of a holiday dinner.
And that’s when it clicked.
Buck was nervous.
This wasn’t just dinner. It was the first time Athena and May were coming over since Bobby passed. The first time they’d be sitting across from each other without him.
Tommy’s chest ached a little.
He knew how much this night meant to Buck. Not because he wanted everything to be perfect, but because it couldn’t be. Because Bobby wouldn’t be there.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching for a moment as Buck meticulously sliced a red bell pepper into perfectly even strips. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a line, like the fate of the evening depended on that pepper behaving.
“You planning to impress them with knife skills alone?” Tommy asked, voice light.
Buck startled slightly, then glanced up. The tension in his shoulders eased the second he saw him. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed,” Tommy said, stepping into the kitchen and peering at the table. “You planning to propose to them or just feed them?”
Buck rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. “I just… want it to be nice.”
“It is nice. It’s borderline gourmet. Pretty sure I saw this setup in a magazine once,” Tommy said, gesturing to the place settings. “Relax, Buck. They’re not coming to judge your plate presentation.”
Buck let out a breath, setting the knife down and bracing his hands on the counter. “I know. I do. It’s just… first time without Bobby. Feels like there’s this… space in the room that I can’t fill. No matter what I do.”
Tommy stepped closer, brushing his hand gently against Buck’s back. “You’re not supposed to fill it. No one can. You’re just supposed to show up. Be you. That’s more than enough.”
Buck nodded, not quite looking at him, but leaning into the touch.
Tommy gave his back one last comforting rub, then straightened. “Alright. I’m gonna shower and change before I stink up your very elegant tablescape. And then you can put me to work…whatever you need.”
Buck finally cracked a smile. “You sure? I’ve got a very demanding list of tasks. It includes stirring sauce, folding napkins, and pretending I’m not about to freak out.”
“I’m qualified for all three,” Tommy said, already heading down the hall. “Especially the last one.”
****
Tommy emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, towel slung around his neck, hair still damp and curling at the edges. He’d swapped his workout gear for jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, casual but clean, the kind of thing Buck always claimed made him look insanely hot .
Buck glanced up from the stove just in time to prove the point, eyes sweeping over him before he caught himself.
“You know,” Buck said, “you really shouldn’t be allowed to look like that while I’m trying to finish dinner.”
Tommy smirked, rubbing the towel through his hair. “What, this?” he asked, like it was nothing. “It’s called post-basketball minimalism.”
Buck turned back to the pan, shaking his head. “It’s called unfair.”
After a moment, Buck asked, “So? How was the game? Still the reigning king of trash talk?”
“I’ll have you know, I was exceptionally humble in victory today,” Tommy said as he dropped into a chair at the island. “Kai tried to dunk, Jackson nearly took out my knee, and Mel scored on us seven times in a row, then had the audacity to call it ‘light cardio.’”
Buck laughed, shaking his head. “I told you she was secretly terrifying.”
Tommy shrugged, clearly pleased. “It was good. They all say hi, and they’re demanding you show up to the next game.”
Buck snorted. “Yeah, because what that game clearly needs is me tripping over my own feet and getting dunked on by Mel.”
“She is terrifying,” Tommy agreed with a grin. “But come on, you can hold your own. And hey, this time you don’t have to try and get my attention.”
He stepped in closer, voice softening. “You already have it. Always.”
Buck’s smile faltered for just a second, like the words caught him off guard, but then he leaned in, forehead resting lightly against Tommy’s.
“Yeah?” he murmured.
Tommy nodded, brushing his thumb along Buck’s jaw. “Yeah.”
He dropped his hand, letting his fingers trail a slow, reassuring path down Buck’s spine. Just the kind of steady, grounding touch that always seemed to work, no pressure, no expectation. Just presence.
Buck’s shoulders eased beneath his hand. He closed his eyes for half a second, breathing in slow.
“You’re not alone in this, you know,” Tommy said softly.
“I know,” Buck whispered, even quieter.
Tommy leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Buck turned, met him halfway for another. Then another, slower this time, deeper, just enough to make him melt. His hands found Tommy’s waist like instinct, holding on without needing to think.
A quiet, shared breath passed between them, until the sharp sizzle of something boiling over pulled them apart.
“Shit,” Buck muttered, spinning back to the stove and yanking the pot off the burner. Sauce hissed angrily against the metal rim.
Tommy was still grinning when his phone buzzed sharply on the counter behind them.
He didn’t need to look to know what it was.
His smile faded, hand already reaching for the screen.
“We’re being called in,” he said. “Warehouse fire. 217’s being pulled for ground support.”
Buck’s expression faltered, just for a second, but he nodded.
“You’ve got time to eat?” he asked.
“I’ll grab something after,” Tommy said, heading for his gear. “You know how these things go.”
Buck didn’t argue.
Tommy leaned in, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple, lingering a second longer than usual. “I’ll text when I can,” he said quietly.
Buck nodded, eyes soft. “Be safe.”
Tommy nodded once, then turned to grab the rest of his gear from the bedroom. He paused in the doorway on his way out, stepped back to Buck, and kissed him one last time, gentle, steady, and full of all the things they didn’t need to say out loud.
Then he was gone, boots thudding softly down the hall, the smell of garlic and basil still hanging in the air behind him.
****
The warehouse loomed like a gutted beast on the edge of the industrial district, its metal ribs glowing with flame. Sheets of fire licked through shattered windows, casting jagged light across the cracked asphalt. Smoke belched skyward in thick, choking columns, staining the sunset in bruised shades of violet and ash.
By the time the 217 rolled onto the scene, the air was a battlefield, screams of sirens, the hiss and hammer of high-pressure hoses, the roar of a fire that was already three alarms and rising.
Tommy jumped down from the rig, helmet tucked beneath his arm, boots hitting pavement with a jolt that echoed up his spine. His pulse surged as he scanned the chaos, half a dozen engines and trucks formed a makeshift perimeter, hoses snaked across the lot like veins feeding a dying heart, and firefighters moved like ghosts through the smoke, masked, focused, fast.
He caught sight of Mac near the staging tent, already in full command mode. Her helmet was pushed back just far enough to reveal her furrowed brow, and she was gesturing toward a blueprint pinned to the back of a command unit with one hand while relaying orders into her radio with the other.
Tommy jogged over, and she turned the moment she sensed him.
“Structure’s a relic,” she said, voice clipped and steady through her mask. “Built in ’72, gutted and rezoned half a dozen times, light manufacturing, then distribution, then who knows what. No updated chemical logs. We’re flying blind on whatever’s cooking in there.”
Tommy’s eyes tracked the column of smoke coiling into the sky, thick and angry. “Shit.”
“Air quality’s already spiking,” she continued. “Multiple squatters reported. Three pulled out unconscious so far, one critical. Reports of others deeper inside, but no headcount, no location markers. We’re estimating at least a dozen still unaccounted for.”
He nodded grimly.
“Hazmat team’s stuck on the 5. ETA’s twenty, maybe more. But with the way this fire’s moving?” Her jaw clenched. “We don’t have twenty. We’ve got ten. Maybe less before the south wing folds in on itself.”
Tommy slid on his mask and clicked into full gear, helmet secured and gloved fingers tightening his straps. “You want sweep and evac?”
“Ground support and rapid search,” Mac confirmed without missing a beat. “You’ll enter with Station 84 through the north access, then split to sweep the east and west corridors.”
She tapped the blueprint, where the west wing was already glowing orange with unstable heat signatures. “We’ve got possible movement here, but the thermal readings are garbage, too much interference to trust it. I need boots in now. We can’t wait on Hazmat. I want visual confirmation so we can start the water assault the second it’s clear.”
Tommy nodded sharply. “Copy that. I’ll get them moving.”
Mac gave him a tight nod, already turning to direct incoming units. “Watch your step in there. And Tommy, if it feels wrong, it probably is.”
The heat rising off the building was already oppressive, like walking into a furnace with no walls. Tommy tightened the chin strap on his helmet and jogged off toward the entry point, smoke curling hungrily around his boots.
Time was already running out.
Tommy found Cruz and Blake already suited up near the north access point, double-checking their gear with the kind of quiet focus that came from years of repetition. The fire painted their faces in pulsing orange hues, reflecting off the grime and sweat beneath their helmets.
Two firefighters from Station 84 jogged up through the smoke, gear clanking, soot streaking their masks. One of them, a woman with a taut braid sticking out the back of her helmet, nodded in greeting.
“Is this everyone for the search?” Tommy asked, raising his voice over the roar of hoses and distant crashing metal.
“Yeah,” the woman said. “Collins and Lee, Station 84.”
Tommy nodded, sharp and quick. “Kinard, Cruz, and Cooper—217. Here’s the plan. Collins, you’re with me, we’ll take the west side. Blake, you, Cruz, and Lee push east. Watch the ceilings and supports, this place is a structural question mark, and it’s already degrading. Keep comms open. Call your clears. If anything shifts, if something feels off, you pull out. No heroics.”
Cruz gave a dry snort. “Perfect. Death trap bingo,” she muttered through her rebreather.
Blake side-eyed her, deadpan. “Let’s not jinx it before we even get inside.”
The heat was a wall as they approached the entrance. Collins radioed in their approach, her voice tight , while Blake jammed a halligan into the heavy side door and leveraged it open. The warped steel groaned in protest.
Smoke spilled out like breath from some slumbering beast, thick, black, and curling with menace.
“Let’s move,” Tommy said, sliding his mask into place and tightening the strap with a sharp pull. His voice filtered through the comm. “Stay sharp. We don’t know what’s waiting in there.”
Then the team vanished into the dark, the fire swallowing their silhouettes one by one.
It was dark, thick with smoke and haze, the beam of Tommy’s flashlight barely cutting through the cloud. Shapes loomed out of the gloom: overturned pallets, twisted metal scaffolding, broken glass crunching underfoot. The air was heavy with chemicals, burnt plastic, scorched rubber, something sharp and acidic that caught at the back of the throat even through the filter of their masks.
Tommy swept the beam of his light across a collapsed storage rack, half-melted drums pooling something slick and iridescent across the concrete.
“Jesus,” Collins muttered beside him. “This place is a nightmare.”
Tommy clicked his radio. “This is Kinard, breaching west. Limited visibility. Chemical presence confirmed. Beginning sweep.”
“Copy,” Mac’s voice came back, steady but tight. “Proceed with caution. I want a check-in every five.”
They moved deeper into the skeleton of the warehouse, boots thudding against the warped floor, their voices low and deliberate as they called out between shadows.
“LAFD, call out!”
“Anyone inside? We can get you out!”
A crash echoed from somewhere ahead, metal on metal, distant but sharp. Collins froze beside him, eyes flicking toward the sound.
Tommy’s hand hovered over his radio. “You hear that?”
Collins paused, head cocked beneath the brim of her helmet, listening. “Could be debris shifting.”
“Or someone still in there.”
A beat passed. Smoke hissed between them.
“Let’s keep our eyes open,” Collins said.
They kept moving, boots crunching over glass and ash, past a collapsed catwalk that groaned above them like it might come down with a breath too strong. The deeper they pushed into the west wing, the more the building seemed to slouch around them, like it was trying to fold in on itself. Support beams bowed outward. Steel rivets had popped clean from some of the trusses. The walls shimmered with heat, sweating smoke that curled like fingers.
Tommy swung his flashlight in a slow arc, and froze.
Lying in the middle of the aisle was a toy firefighter, plastic, singed at the edges, but unmistakably a child’s. The little red helmet was scuffed, its painted-on face still smiling despite the soot. Tommy crouched and picked it up with gloved fingers, chest tightening around a sudden rush of dread.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Is there a kid in here?”
Before Collins could respond, a sound broke through the low roar of flames and groaning metal.
A voice.
Thin. High. Faint.
“Help… help me…”
Tommy froze, breath catching. His eyes snapped to Collins. “You heard that, right?”
Collins nodded grimly. “Jesus. We gotta find that kid.”
They surged forward, every step edged with urgency. At the end of the hallway, the corridor split in two. It wasn’t a long stretch, and time was bleeding out fast. A silent agreement passed between them, they’d cover more ground apart. Tommy veered right as Collins took the left.
The fire growled somewhere deeper in the building, a low, animal sound that echoed off the buckling walls, but louder still was the small, desperate voice calling out again.
Tommy moved fast and low, weaving through the haze as smoke thickened with every step. Grey streaked across his visor. His boots slipped slightly on the floor, now slick with some kind of oily runoff, just enough to spike his nerves and pull his focus razor-sharp.
Then...Click.
The sound cut clean through the chaos. Subtle. Precise. His gut locked. Cold swept through his chest. A flicker of memory from his days in the army, boots in dust, the weight of silence before everything went sideways. He knew that sound. The kind of sound that meant you were already too late.
That wasn’t debris.
It was a trap.
“Collins—” he shouted, voice hoarse through the mask.
But the warning came a second too late.
A deafening crack ripped through the space above him.
A rigged shelf, suspended by tensioned cable, swung down like a wrecking ball, crashing into the aisle with brutal precision. Steel shrieked. A secondary charge blew, hurling a wave of fire and force outward.
Tommy went flying.
He hit the ground hard. His shoulder cracked against something solid, pain slicing through his chest. His leg twisted beneath him, a searing jolt tearing through muscle. His mask held, barely, but the air inside it tasted like copper and ash.
Everything rang . Muffled, distant. Like his brain couldn’t keep up with the body’s alarms.
He couldn’t move his right side. He was aware of pain, sharp and deep, blooming through his thigh and ribs like a fire of its own.
“—Kinard? Tommy? Do you copy—?”
Collins’ voice crackled in his ear, frantic.
Tommy tried to answer, tried to push upright—but the world tilted. The shelving rig loomed above him, mangled and smoking.
His hand finally found the radio, shaking.
“I’m… I’m down,” he rasped. “Trap. It was a trap—”
Another explosion ripped through the room before he could finish. The blast hurled him back, pain blooming white-hot as his body hit the ground again.
Then…nothing.
Notes:
Posts and hides..... don't hate me... you know we were building up to something..... I'm sorry 🫣I should probably start a tumblr or something to provide you with a space to yell at me!
I hope you enjoy this one, the next few chapters are going to be a ride....
I was blown away by the love and comments to the last chapter and Buck's shift with the 118 and his confrontation with Eddie. I had been saving that scene for so long, and so happy you all enjoyed it!
Always love to hear your thoughts
xo
Chapter 21: Between Heartbeats
Summary:
Buck finds himself fighting to hold steady when the ground threatens to give way beneath him.
Chapter Text
The apartment was quiet in the kind of way Buck had learned to appreciate, soft, lived-in silence, not the brittle emptiness of too much space. He’d gotten used to the creaks in the floorboards, the faint hum of traffic through the windows when the city couldn’t sleep. The space had settled around him, or maybe he’d settled into it. It was homier than the loft, and more him than Eddie’s place had ever been. The furniture was finally arranged in a way that made sense, and Tommy had all but bullied him into hanging the last of his artwork a week ago, after getting tired of stumbling into the frames in the dark.
It wasn’t home. Not really. He wasn’t sure if this place ever would be. But it was his. He had a vision in his head of what home might feel like someday. And every day he spent with Tommy, that dream felt a little more within reach.
Buck wiped his hands on a dish towel and glanced at the table, two extra place settings, wine breathing, salad still chilling in the fridge. He’d been fussing for the last hour, rearranging forks and wiping down already-clean counters, not because Athena or May would care, but because he did.
Because this dinner felt like more than just a visit, it was new territory for them. It felt like the final step in admitting that Bobby was really gone and they had to go on without him.
He lingered a moment longer, eyes drifting back to the table. Everything was in place, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something was still off. Or maybe it was just him. He had a lot on his mind lately.
He was getting more comfortable with his decision, not that he’d said anything to anyone other than Tommy. The offer from Mac had been weighing heavy on his mind these past few days. He’d turned it over from every angle, weighed every pro and con, tried to imagine the fallout. And the more he thought about it, the more it stopped feeling like a maybe and started feeling like a definitely.
Because Mac wasn’t just offering him a transfer. She was offering him a future. A place where he could grow. A team that didn’t carry the weight of everything he’d lost. The chemistry with the 217 had surprised him. He’d thought that kind of connection had died with Bobby, that the 118 was the only place he’d ever feel it. But twelve hours with the Harbour teams had shifted something in him.
Kai and JJ had both messaged him afterward, saying they’d loved having him at the station. When he’d followed up with a dozen questions, they hadn’t brushed him off. They’d welcomed the curiosity, answered everything honestly, and made it clear he wouldn’t be stepping into a team that just tolerated him. He’d be joining one that actually wanted him there.
He kept telling himself he was still deciding. That he needed more time. That he owed it to himself, and maybe even to the 118, to be sure. But if he was being honest, the choice had already been made the moment he walked out of the station at the end of that shift. He just hadn’t spoken it aloud yet.
His next shift with the 118 was tomorrow, and the weight of it pressed in already, heavy and unrelenting. Chimney and Hen hadn’t reached out since their initial messages after the blowup, and Buck couldn’t tell where things stood anymore. Some days it felt like maybe there was still a bridge left to cross; other days, like it had already burned to ash. Maddie checked in every day, even after he told her he needed space. She didn’t push, just waited for the bare minimum of an answer so she’d know he was okay. But even that gentle persistence carried its own sting, each message a reminder of everything he wasn’t saying out loud.
Ravi, though… Ravi was different. He was still his person, the one steady presence Buck hadn’t expected but had come to rely on. Maybe that was what made it easier to admit to himself that the 118 was no longer home. Ravi was the only part he’d really miss. And even then, Buck knew their friendship was strong enough to survive his leaving. Strong enough to follow him, no matter where he ended up.
The rest of it, the rest of them, was still a question mark.
His conversations with Hen and Chimney had hinted at something resembling understanding. At the idea that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way forward. That they could accept he needed to put himself first. How they’d react once the decision was real? That was anyone’s guess.
He just wasn’t going to let that stop him anymore.
His gaze drifted to the sideboard, to the photo tucked between a stack of unopened mail and a half-burned candle. Bobby, mid-laugh, caught in a moment Buck couldn’t quite remember but felt like he should. Buck stepped closer, fingertips brushing the edge of the frame.
“I think you’d get it,” he murmured. “I hope you would.”
The silence that followed didn’t feel empty. Just full of all the things he wished he could say. The kind of silence he was learning to carry.
The doorbell rang.
Buck blinked, the sound pulling him back to the present. He straightened, exhaled through his nose, and crossed the room.
It was just dinner. Just Athena and May.
He took a breath. Then another. And opened the door.
Before Buck could even get a word out, Athena breezed past him with the confidence of someone who had always belonged in whatever room she entered.
“Well, finally ,” she said, glancing around the apartment with sharp eyes and a half-smirk. “Was starting to think you were avoiding us. Or worse, burning dinner.”
May followed behind her, a little more subdued, a bottle of sparkling water tucked under one arm and a knowing smile on her face. “Hi, Buck.”
Buck blinked, then laughed under his breath as he stepped aside. “Hey. Come on in. I promise the food’s edible.”
Athena stopped just short of the table, one hand on her hip, the other already scanning the setup like she was mentally grading it. “Where’s your pilot boyfriend? I told you to be sure to invite him.”
Buck laughed, shaking his head. He still wasn’t entirely sure how she knew he and Tommy had gotten back together—but then again, this was Athena. She always knew. “Tommy got called in.”
“Mmhmm.” Her brow arched in that trademark way that said I’m not done with you yet . “You make sure to tell him he’s still getting the full interrogation. A work call doesn’t earn him a free pass.”
May snorted as she set the sparkling water on the counter. “You act like he’s not already terrified.”
Athena didn’t miss a beat. “As he should be.”
Buck opened his mouth to protest, but then just laughed. “Okay, wow. Good to see you too.”
Athena just smirked and walked over to inspect the wine. “You should know better by now. You bring someone into the family, even for a second time, you don’t get to control the terms.”
Buck shook his head, still smiling, and moved to pull the garlic bread from the oven. May was already setting out the salad while Athena examined the wine label like it had committed a personal offence.
There was an ease to it, unexpected, but welcome. Like slipping into an old rhythm even though the players had changed. No Bobby at the stove, no music playing in the background, no one sneaking bites before the plates were set. But they were here. And it was comforting.
He exhaled quietly and nodded toward the table. “Let’s eat.”
They moved easily into the rhythm of dinner, plates passed, salad served, glasses filled. The food wasn’t anything fancy, but it was good, and Buck couldn’t help but smile at the hum of low conversation and the clink of silverware against ceramic.
“So,” Buck said, glancing across the table at May. “You overthrow the academic system yet?”
May grinned, spearing a piece of lettuce. “Not yet. Still biding my time. Also trying to survive my last year without combusting.”
Buck tilted his head, half-smiling. “I think end-of-degree panic is a rite of passage. Not that I’d know firsthand, but... I did spend a few years drifting before I landed here. So you’re not the only one who didn’t have it all figured out.”
Athena took a slow sip of her wine and arched a brow. “Please. You were one existential crisis away from becoming a nomad.”
Buck huffed a laugh. “Harsh.”
“Accurate,” May added, grinning. “But you pulled it together.”
Athena gave him a look that was teasing but not unkind. “Eventually.”
Buck held up his hands. “Hey, some of us take the scenic route.”
“Some of you need GPS and divine intervention,” Athena said, but her tone had softened. “Still. You got here.”
And just like that, the laughter settled into something quieter, like the room remembered why they were really sitting there.
The smile lingered on Buck’s face a moment longer before his gaze shifted to her more fully. “What about you?” he asked, quieter now. “How’s the new place treating you?”
Athena set her glass down and leaned back in her chair, the faintest hint of a sigh escaping. “Quiet,” she said. “Which isn’t a bad thing. Just… different.”
May glanced over, but didn’t say anything.
“It takes a while to feel settled in a new place.” Buck said
Athena gave him a knowing look. “Yeah. I imagine you’d know a little something about that lately.”
He smiled faintly. “Still figuring it out. But it’s getting there.”
She nodded. “It’s strange, isn’t it? You finally find a moment to breathe, and suddenly you don’t know what to do with it.”
Buck’s eyes dropped to his plate, the truth of it catching him off guard. What could he say to that?
They ate in silence for a few moments, the kind that settled deep. Athena’s words echoed, unspoken but understood, true for all three of them in different ways.
Then Athena set her glass down, the shift in her tone subtle but unmistakable, gentler now, steady. “I heard about you unloading on Eddie last shift.”
Buck exhaled slowly, twisting the corner of his napkin between his fingers. “Of course you did.”
Leave it to Athena to get right to the point. He figured she’d probably been holding that question since the moment she walked through the door.
“I wasn’t digging,” she added. “It came to me. Things don’t stay quiet in this family.” She gave him a look that wasn’t quite sharp, but wasn’t soft either. “Hen was concerned.”
“Is she?” Buck asked, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
Athena didn’t flinch. She just held his gaze. “Yes. She is.”
There was a beat of silence.
“She said she reached out,” Athena went on, more gently now. “Said you didn’t really answer. And she also admitted why. She knows she hurt you. She knows she failed you when it counted.”
Buck looked down, jaw tight. “Yeah. Well. It’s a little late.”
“I know that,” Athena said softly. “And I told her as much.”
She didn’t say more, didn’t try to defend Hen, didn’t try to smooth it over. Just let the words land, honest and unvarnished.
Buck nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the plate in front of him. The food had gone cold, but he hadn’t noticed until now.
“I’m not angry,” he said finally. “Not really. I’m just… tired. Of feeling like I have to earn people’s care. Like grief made me too much for everyone.”
Athena’s voice was steady. “It didn’t. You’re not.”
He glanced up, and for a second, he believed her.
“She’s trying,” Athena said. “But I also told her trying doesn’t erase damage. If she wants to fix this, it’s going to take more than guilt.”
Buck sighed, the weight of it all pressing a little heavier on his chest. He knew how close Athena and Hen were. It meant something that she’d stood up for him, but he didn’t want to be the reason their friendship cracked.
He nodded once. “Eddie just… picked a bad day to make a dumb comment.”
“Sounds like it,” Athena said simply.
“What happened?” May asked, looking between them, clearly having missed the latest firehouse drama.
Buck hesitated, his fingers curling tighter around the napkin. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say. How much he could say without unraveling again.
“He made a joke,” Buck said finally. “One of those throwaway lines that’s not supposed to hurt, except… it did. Because it wasn’t really a joke. It was meant to be a dig.”
Athena’s jaw tightened, but she stayed quiet.
“It wasn’t just about that moment,” Buck added. “It was everything leading up to it. The looks. The distance. The way they all just… pulled back.”
“You snapped,” May said gently.
“I did,” Buck admitted. “And maybe I shouldn’t have. But I don’t regret it.”
He paused. Then let the rest fall into the space between them, there wasn’t much more to say after that.
“I got an offer,” he said, voice quieter now. “From Captain Ryan at the 217.”
He glanced down again, brushing a thumb against the edge of his plate. “She wants me to take over as lieutenant for one of their rescue operations units.”
The words hung there for a moment, weighty but certain. Like something that had been pressing on his chest finally said aloud.
May blinked. “Wait…lieutenant? That’s… like huge, right?”
Buck huffed a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. It is.”
“So you’re really leaving the 118?” she asked, more tentative now.
“I haven’t officially accepted anything yet,” Buck said. “Mac gave me a few days to think about it.”
Athena hadn’t spoken yet. She just watched him, quiet but present, her expression unreadable for a long moment.
Then, finally, she leaned in slightly, brows lifting. “And how do you feel about it?”
Buck looked down, then back up. “Like I can breathe again. Like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Athena’s expression softened, a hint of something almost maternal settling behind her eyes. “Sounds like you already know what you’re going to do.”
He swallowed hard. “Do you think Bobby would’ve understood?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I think Bobby would’ve been proud. For the man you’ve become. For the way you keep choosing to get up and move forward, even when it hurts. And for not letting your love for him trap you in the version of yourself he first met.”
Buck’s throat tightened, and he looked away for a second, blinking hard. “I keep waiting to feel guilty.”
“You’re not betraying him, Buck,” she said quietly. “You’re honouring him. By living.”
As Athena took another sip of wine, Buck realized this was the first time he’d said it out loud to anyone. Maybe that was the point. Maybe telling her tonight was his way of easing the truth into the world before he had to face it head-on.
They finished dinner slowly, the conversation drifting toward safer ground, May’s internship, a mutual rant about city traffic, a brief detour into celebrity gossip that had Athena rolling her eyes and Buck laughing more than he expected to.
By the time dessert was on the table, the weight in Buck’s chest had eased a little. May leaned into him for a hug when she stood to leave, promising to text him updates from the next round of school chaos.
As she got to the door she turned back to Buck one last time. “You’ll let me know when we can officially celebrate your promotion right?”
Buck gave her a smile. “Yeah. I will.”
They exchanged a final wave, and then it was just him and Athena again.
The kitchen had the soft hum of post-dinner quiet. Buck started clearing the plates, and Athena, ignoring his halfhearted protests, rose to help without a word.
For a while, they worked side by side in silence. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that had been earned.
She was drying a dish when she finally spoke again.
“Are you really okay?”
Buck paused, hands wet, fingers gripping the edge of the sink.
“I mean it,” she said. “You didn’t say anything. Not when it started. Not when things got bad. You didn’t call. Why?”
He stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the sponge in his hand like it might give him the answer.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said eventually. “You were grieving too and had your own life to sort through. I didn’t want to burden you with this.”
“You’re part of that life, Buck.”
He turned his head just enough to meet her eyes. “I know. But at the time… I didn’t know how to reach for anyone without feeling like I was asking too much. I was a mess. If it wasn’t for Tommy, I don’t know if I would be where I am today.”
She set the dish towel down and leaned back against the counter, arms crossing loosely in front of her.
“You never ask for too much,” she said. “But I get it. We all got lost in it a little. Some of us didn’t come back from it the same.”
Buck nodded, the weight of her words sitting low in his chest.
Then his phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the moment.
He frowned, wiped his hands quickly, and picked it up.
Mac Calling.
“Sorry,” he said, holding the phone up toward Athena. “It’s Mac.”
“Go ahead and take it,” she said as she waved him off.
He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Mac, were your ears burning? I was going to call you in the morning.”
There was a pause. Too long. Long enough for his stomach to drop. His body went rigid, breath caught in his chest.
When Mac spoke, her voice was steady, but all the warmth was gone. “Buck… there’s been an accident.”
“No.” The word left him like air punched from his lungs. His knees felt unsteady beneath him.
“Tommy was—” She hesitated, like saying it would make it worse. “It’s bad, Buck.” Her voice softened, but the weight in it was unbearable.
“No.” The word scraped out of him, raw and instinctive. His grip on the phone tightened until it hurt. “Is…Is he—?”
Mac exhaled on the other end, the faint background noise of sirens in the distance. “There was an explosion... we don’t know what happened—”
Her voice blurred, the words twisting and slipping out of reach. Buck could hear her, but he couldn’t process it. His mind was a rush of static, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out everything but the single, suffocating thought that this couldn’t be happening.
He stared down at the counter without seeing it, fingers numb around the phone. It felt like the floor had given way, like gravity was pulling everything in him down at once.
“Buck.” Athena’s voice cut through the fog, firm, steady. Her hand was suddenly on his arm, warm and grounding. “Let me.”
He blinked, barely registering her as she eased the phone from his grip.
“This is Sergeant Athena Grant,” she said into the receiver, listening intently. “Tell me exactly where they’ve taken him… Presbyterian. What’s his condition?”
Buck’s vision tunnelled. He could see her lips moving, hear the low hum of her voice, but the words refused to land. His chest felt too tight, each breath shallow and jagged, like his body couldn’t remember how to draw air properly.
Athena ended the call and turned to him, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the haze. “Buck, you need to listen to me. You need to take a breath and collect yourself. Tommy is going to need you.”
“How bad…” he managed, the words scraping out of him like they were made of glass.
Athena’s sigh was quiet, but heavy. “He’s in critical condition. They’re taking him straight into surgery when he gets to the hospital. You need to be there.”
His throat closed. “I can’t lose him, Athena. Not him. I wouldn’t survive it.”
She stepped closer, her grip tightening, voice low but fierce. “You are not going to lose him. You hear me?”
Her words hung in the air until something in him latched onto them. Buck dragged in a shaky breath, but it wasn’t enough. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out sense and reason. He could see her, hear her, but the world felt thin and far away.
He forced his focus onto Athena’s steady gaze. One breath. Then another. Don’t think. Don’t imagine. Don’t see it.
But Bobby’s absence was still there, a shadow at the edge of his mind. And now Tommy…Tommy, who had come back into his life and into his heart, was somewhere between him and the future he had barely dared to believe in. The thought of losing him now cracked something deep inside.
He clenched his jaw, fighting against the pull of that dark spiral. He couldn’t go there. Not now. He could do this. He had to.
“Okay,” he rasped, though the word felt fragile in his mouth.
Athena gave his arm a final squeeze before letting go. “Come on.”
She didn’t ask if he wanted to drive, just guided him toward the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. “We’ll take my car,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m here for you, Buck. Whatever you need.”
He nodded mutely, following her down the hall, his mind still trying to claw its way out of the fog. Every step felt both too slow and too fast, the edges of his thoughts fraying with each passing second.
Once they were outside, Athena glanced at him again as she unlocked the car. “Is there anyone else we should call? Anyone who needs to know?”
He shook his head almost immediately. “No.” His voice was rough, low. “Not yet. I’ll call Sal and Jackson when we have more news.”
“Alright,” she said simply, and that was the end of it. She slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled them into the night.
****
The hospital’s sliding doors opened into a wash of fluorescent light across the pavement. Buck stepped into it like it might burn, his shoes suddenly too heavy, every movement dragging him further into a reality he wasn’t ready to face. The sterile chill of the lobby air hit next, sharp against his skin, and he swallowed hard against the knot in his throat. Beside him, Athena kept pace, steady, grounding, her quiet presence the only thing keeping his legs from giving out beneath him.
They turned a corner into the waiting area, and the sight hit him like a punch. Mac sat with most of Alpha team gathered around her, faces drawn, eyes rimmed red, gear streaked with ash and soot. They looked like they’d come straight from the fire without stopping to breathe.
Kai saw him first. He didn’t say a word, just crossed the space in three long strides and pulled Buck into a tight, grounding hug. Buck froze for half a second, then let himself lean into it, feeling the grit of soot against his cheek, the solid weight of someone else holding him up.
When Kai finally stepped back, Buck’s gaze found Mac. She looked exhausted, helmet hair flattened, face streaked where sweat had cut through the grime. But her eyes stayed sharp, locked on him.
“Any update?” His voice came out low, almost hoarse.
Mac shook her head. “They took him straight into surgery. The trauma team’s working on him now.” She hesitated, the barest flicker of something in her expression, fear, carefully buried under command. “It’s bad, Buck. But they’ve got the best people on him.”
Buck nodded slowly, his hands curling into fists at his sides, like holding them tight was the only way to keep himself from falling apart right there in the middle of the room.
Kai’s hand lingered briefly on Buck’s shoulder, steadying, before guiding him toward the cluster of chairs where the rest of Alpha team sat. Blake had his elbows dug into his knees, head bowed like he was replaying every second of the night on a loop. Harper cradled a Styrofoam cup she hadn’t touched, thumb rubbing the rim in restless circles. Lexie stared at the floor, jaw tight, gear jacket still clinging to her shoulders like she couldn’t bring herself to shed it. Jess, Cruz, and Aiden rounded out the group, their postures heavy, eyes hollowed from smoke, fear, and waiting.
No one tried to fill the silence with empty words. The fire still clung to them, the smell of smoke, the faint heat radiating off their gear, the weight of something unfinished pressing on all of them.
Buck sank into the empty chair between Kai and Mac. The vinyl was cold, the lighting too harsh. Every second that ticked by felt like a year.
Athena stayed nearby, leaning against the wall just behind him, her presence quiet but unyielding.
“How long’s he been in there?” Buck asked after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Almost an hour,” Mac said. “They said it’ll be a while yet.”
Buck nodded, but the words didn’t settle. His mind kept slipping, images of Tommy in his flight suit, smiling, teasing, alive, shifting into the possibility that he might never…
Harper’s voice broke through, soft but certain. “He’s tough, Buck. You know that.”
He glanced at her, managing the faintest nod. “Yeah.” He tried to believe it.
Kai leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “We’ve got you. Whatever you need.”
Buck swallowed hard, eyes stinging. “Thanks.”
They sat like that, together but each lost in their own thoughts, listening to the muted sounds of the hospital around them. Somewhere down the hall, a gurney squeaked past, and a nurse’s voice called out for a doctor. But in their corner of the waiting room, time felt suspended, every breath caught between hope and fear.
Buck wasn’t sure how long they all sat there, watching doctors come and go, but no word on Tommy. It was a special kind of torture, to sit there and wait. Not knowing whether the person you loved was going to be ok or not. For Buck, it was taking everything in him just to remember to breathe. His thoughts constantly spiralled, his mind raced, every now and then he would feel Athena’s hand on his and it would bring him back down, only for the whole process to start all over again a few minutes later.
The sound of footsteps pulled Buck’s gaze down the hallway. A man in light blue scrubs and a surgical cap was heading their way, mask dangling around his neck. His eyes swept the waiting room, sharp and searching, until they landed on Mac—now leaning against the wall where Athena had been.
She stepped forward immediately, posture straightening, and Buck moved with her without even thinking. His heart was pounding so hard it made the edges of his vision pulse. Behind them, the rest of the team rose as one, a silent wall of soot-streaked faces bracing for whatever was about to be said.
“For Thomas Kindard?” the surgeon asked.
“That’s us,” Mac said, her voice tight.
Buck’s throat felt too dry to speak. He just nodded once, his chest aching with the effort to keep breathing.
The surgeon’s expression was calm but serious. “He made it through surgery. The damage from the blast was extensive, multiple fractures, internal bleeding. We’ve stabilized him for now, but his condition is still critical.”
Buck’s grip tightened around the back of the waiting room chair until his knuckles burned. For now. The words echoed in his skull, more weight than reassurance.
“He’s sedated and on a ventilator,” the surgeon continued. “We’ll be monitoring him closely in the ICU. The next twenty-four hours will be critical.”
“Can we see him?” Mac asked.
“Two visitors at a time,” the surgeon said. “Just for a few minutes, until he’s more stable.”
Mac nodded and turned to Buck immediately. “Go.”
Buck hesitated, glancing at the others, at Harper’s pale, tight face, at Kai’s steady but worried gaze, but no one protested.
The surgeon gestured down the hall. “This way.”
Buck’s legs felt unsteady as he followed, the air in the hallway thick and too bright. He wasn’t ready to see Tommy like this. But he couldn’t not go.
****
The hallway smelled of the sterile nothingness unique to hospitals, the kind of air scrubbed so clean it felt emptied of life. It made Buck’s skin crawl. Every step of the surgeon drew that hollow quiet closer, until it pressed against Buck’s chest like a weight.
They walked past closed doors and curtained bays, each one whispering of lives balanced on the edge, until the surgeon finally stopped outside a glass-walled ICU room. Buck’s pulse slowed to a painful, dragging thud, every beat loud in his ears. He forced himself to look, even when everything in him screamed not to.
Tommy lay in the centre of the room, pale against the white sheets, the steady rise and fall of his chest driven by the hiss of a ventilator. Tubes and wires traced paths from his arms, his chest, his neck, like someone had mapped every vulnerability and made it visible. A monitor pulsed in green, the rhythmic beep somehow both reassuring and unbearable.
Buck’s throat tightened. He’d pictured this moment in flashes during the endless wait, prepared himself, or so he’d thought, but nothing could have braced him for the reality. Tommy looked… smaller somehow, like the hospital bed had swallowed him whole. Frail in a way that stole the air from Buck’s lungs. The restless energy, the easy grin, the spark that had always drawn Buck into his orbit, it was all gone, replaced by stillness and the hum of machines.
The surgeon murmured something about the machines, but Buck barely heard him. His gaze stayed fixed on Tommy’s face, on the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, on the bruise blooming across his temple.
When he stepped closer, the steady hiss and sigh of the ventilator seemed to swell, each cycle pulling at something deep in his chest. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, sharp and cold, so at odds with the warmth he’d always associated with Tommy.
Buck reached out without thinking, his fingertips grazing the back of Tommy’s hand, careful of the IV line. The skin was warm, but slack, none of the sure, grounding pressure he was used to feeling in return.
“Baby,” he whispered, the word cracking on its way out. Too small, too fragile to hold the ache building behind his ribs, but it was all he had.
He leaned in until his forehead hovered just above the mattress, eyes locked on Tommy’s still face. “You’re okay. I’m right here. I’ve got you.” His thumb brushed over the knuckles once, twice, slow, steady, as if the motion alone could keep Tommy tethered.
But his mind wouldn’t stop moving. The what-ifs pressed in like smoke, thick, cloying, impossible to escape. What if this was the last time he saw Tommy’s eyes open? What if the last thing Tommy heard from him had been over the phone, nothing but static and worry? What if—
His chest tightened, every breath scraping like it had to fight its way through the weight of all that grief, all that love. He couldn’t do it again. Not the slow unraveling, not having another person he loved fade into a memory.
“Please,” he whispered, the word trembling out of him, barely cutting through the steady hiss of the ventilator. “Don’t leave me. I love you… you’re my heart, Tommy. You’re—” His voice broke, the rest catching hard in his throat. “I can’t do this again. I can’t lose you too.”
The words came in fragments now, splintered and uneven, like they were being dragged straight from the rawest part of him. “I just… I just got you back. I was starting to believe we could make it, because it’s you. It’s always been you. So you can’t… you can’t leave me.”
Tears blurred his vision, spilling unchecked, but he barely felt them. They were nothing compared to the hollow ache carving its way through his chest. His voice fell to a cracked whisper as he bent closer, forehead nearly brushing Tommy’s arm. “I need you here. I need you to stay.”
He ducked his head, eyes squeezing shut, as if the sheer force of wanting could hold Tommy here. The sound of the machines went on, steady and unfeeling, a cruel metronome, reminding him that the only rhythm that mattered was the fragile heartbeat fighting for space beneath his palm.
His fingers curled tighter without him realizing, the grip desperate, almost protective, until the monitor gave a faint, questioning beep. The sound jolted him, fear and hope tangling for an instant. He forced himself to ease back, smoothing his thumb over Tommy’s knuckles in a quiet apology.
Then he just… stayed. Matching his breathing to the rise and fall of the ventilator. Syncing himself to it, as if sharing the rhythm could keep Tommy tethered. As if sheer will might be enough to keep his heart beating.
The door cracked open behind him, and soft footsteps broke the fragile quiet. Buck didn’t look up until a shadow shifted in his peripheral vision.
Kai stood there, helmet hair sticking up in damp spikes, still in the same soot-streaked uniform from the fire. His eyes flicked over Tommy, taking in the lines, the ventilator, the pale stillness, and then back to Buck.
“Hey,” Kai said, voice low but threaded with something lighter, like he was trying to float them both for a second. “You know, if this is just Tommy’s way of getting out of drills, I’m gonna be pissed.”
It wasn’t much, but Buck’s mouth twitched, half a second of almost-smile before it slipped again. “You’d still make him do ‘em.”
“Damn right,” Kai said, and then the humour softened out of his face. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder, a steady weight that didn’t ask him to move, didn’t push him to talk. “I let Sal, Jackson and the others know. Told them to hold off for now, but…” He glanced toward the hallway. “They’ll probably swing by tomorrow. You know how they are.”
Buck nodded, swallowing hard. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Kai said simply, giving his shoulder a light squeeze before stepping around him. He stood by the bed for a moment, looking at Tommy like he was just waiting for him to wake up and start giving orders again. Then he murmured something Buck didn’t catch, and slipped back toward the door without another word.
The rest of the 217 came in the same way, one at a time. No one asked Buck to leave. No one looked at him like he was in the way. They just moved quietly in and out, each leaving a trace of their presence, a hand on Tommy’s arm, a murmured word, a silent promise.
Mac came in last. She paused in the doorway, eyes sweeping over Buck before settling on Tommy. There was a faint smear of soot along her jawline, her hair still damp from a hasty rinse that hadn’t quite erased the smoke. She didn’t speak at first, just stepped inside, the air shifting with the quiet, grounded weight of her presence.
She came to stand beside him, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from her, the lingering scent of smoke and ash clinging to her clothes.
Her voice was soft, but steady. “How is he?”
Buck’s eyes stayed fixed on Tommy, the rise and fall of the ventilator seeming impossibly slow. “Breathing,” he said, the word almost hollow. “I don’t know… the doctors said things, but I couldn’t—” He broke off, his throat tightening. “He just looks so broken.”
Mac’s hand landed lightly on his shoulder, her grip warm, anchoring. “Hey. He’s going to pull through, Buck. Tommy’s a fighter. One of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And he loves you, he’d fight through hell to get back to you.”
Buck swallowed, blinking against the sting in his eyes. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” she said, and there was no hesitation in it.
After a beat, her gaze shifted from Tommy to him, and her tone gentled further. “How are you holding up?”
He let out a quiet, humourless huff that didn’t quite become a laugh. “I don’t know. Feels like I’m… here, but not. Like I’m watching it happen from the outside, and any second, I’m gonna blink and it’ll all fall apart.”
Mac nodded slowly, not pushing for more, just keeping her hand on his shoulder like she meant to keep him tethered to the room. “You’re not in this alone, Buck. You’ve got the whole 217 behind you, just let us know what you need.”
He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to be here.”
“Then that’s exactly where you’ll be.” Her tone left no room for argument. “I’ll work it out with your Chief. You’ll have the next few days, at least, to stay here with him. No distractions. No calls pulling you away.”
Buck’s jaw flexed as he nodded. “Thank you.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound the steady hiss of the ventilator and the faint rhythm of the monitors.
Finally, Buck’s voice broke through, low and rough. “Mac… what happened?”
Her expression shifted, the steel in her gaze softening into something more cautious. “We’ll have to wait for the investigation before we know for sure.” She paused, like she was weighing what to give him. “There was another firefighter with him, Collins. She was further from the blast. Took some shrapnel, she’s unconscious, but stable. Tommy…” Her eyes flickered to the bed. “He was closer.”
Buck’s throat worked as he forced the words out. “Something must have caught his attention. He’s too smart, too experienced, to walk into something dangerous without a reason.”
“I thought the same thing,” Mac admitted quietly. “But the scene didn’t look unusual. We were flying blind in that warehouse, no clear inventory, no count on how many people might still be inside.” She hesitated again, brow knitting. “And still… something didn’t add up. When we went in to get Tommy and Collins out, it looked like a war zone. Debris everywhere, smoke so thick you could taste it. But nothing about it explained what caused the blast.”
She drew in a slow breath. “Except… there was this toy. A firefighter figurine. Just sitting there on the floor. Somehow survived the blast. It was the only thing in that whole place that looked like it didn’t belong.”
Buck’s gaze drifted back to Tommy, but the words about the toy stuck like a splinter under his skin. A firefighter figurine. In the middle of a warehouse floor. Why was it still there when everything else was rubble? Why was it there in the first place.
The thought looped in his head, trying to form a pattern his grief kept shattering. His pulse ticked up, not from panic this time, but from the cold, gnawing edge of knowing there was a piece of this puzzle he didn’t have yet.
“Buck,” Mac said softly. He looked up, startled, and found her studying him—really studying him. “You’ve got that look. What’s bothering you?”
He hesitated, fingers tightening around Tommy’s hand. “That toy… it’s wrong. It’s—” His voice caught. “Something about it… I can’t shake it.”
Mac didn’t brush it off, didn’t tell him he was imagining things. Her brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Then don’t,” she said quietly. “If your gut says it’s wrong, we’ll look into it. Just… not tonight. Right now, you stay here with him. I’ll make sure no one forgets about that toy.”
Mac gave his shoulder one last squeeze, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said. “And Buck… if you think of anything else, no matter how small, you call me.”
He nodded, his throat too tight for words, and she stepped out, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
It was only a moment before it opened again, and Athena’s steady presence filled the space. She didn’t speak right away, just crossed to him and laid a hand on his back, the warmth and weight of it grounding him in a way nothing else had tonight.
“Visiting hours are over,” Athena said gently, her thumb brushing once between his shoulder blades. “We need to head home.”
“I can’t,” Buck murmured, eyes fixed on Tommy. His fingers were still loosely curled around Tommy’s, unwilling to let go. “What if—”
“If something changes, they’ll call you,” Athena assured him, her voice low but firm. “But you shouldn’t be alone tonight.” She tipped her head, catching his eye. “Is there someone you can stay with?”
He swallowed hard, the answer coming without thought. “Yeah.”
Even as he said it, he was pulling out his phone, thumbs moving on instinct.
Buck: Can you meet me at Tommy’s? I should be there in 30.
Ravi: Sure, man. Everything ok?
Buck: No… but I’ll tell you when I see you.
Ravi: I’m on my way.
Buck exhaled shakily and finally loosened his grip on Tommy’s hand. His thumb traced a slow, lingering arc over the back of it in a silent promise. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he whispered. His voice caught on the next words. “I love you.”
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Tommy’s forehead before resting his own there, closing his eyes as if he could memorize the exact feel of him in this moment. For a few breaths, he let himself just stay, breathing in the faint scent of smoke still clinging to Tommy’s hair, listening to the machine’s steady rhythm.
Then, with reluctance that felt like it might splinter him, he let Athena guide him toward the door.
Notes:
I am once again blown away by all the love you showed me last chapter (even though I made it hurt). Your comments and reactions mean so much and are helping to keep me motivated. Not going lie its been rough been anxiety and work, its hard to sit down and write, but I am hoping things will start to get better, but will probably still longer between updates, I am trying to keep it to at least once a week!
I hope you enjoy chapter, it's going to be rough and Buck (and Tommy) is going through some things, but I'm excited to share this plot line with you, this had been the piece that I had been really excited to write and was some of the first ideas I came up with when I started writing this!
As always, love you hear your thoughts!
xo
Chapter 22: Fragile Ground
Summary:
Fear and frustration threaten to pull Buck under, but even in the darkest moments, he finds reminders that he isn’t alone.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The night air was crisp when Buck stepped out of Athena’s car, the coolness seeping deeper into his bones than usual. He hesitated with the door still open, the quiet between them holding for just a moment longer.
“You’ll call me,” Athena said softly, not a question.
Buck nodded. “Yeah. I will. Thanks for… everything tonight.”
Her expression softened, eyes warm but steady. “You don’t have to thank me, Buck. Just promise me you won’t go through this alone.”
His throat tightened. “I promise.”
Satisfied, she reached out, gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, then let go. “Goodnight, Buck.”
“Goodnight.”
He shut the door and stepped back, watching as she pulled out of the driveway. A heaviness settled in his chest as her taillights disappeared into the dark. He was grateful to Athena, he knew tonight couldn’t have been easy for her, but she hadn’t hesitated to be there, to sit with him in the wreckage, to offer comfort while his world threatened to collapse with every minute they waited for news on Tommy.
Buck drew in a breath and turned toward the house. A figure stood near the porch, arms folded, head lifting at the sound of his steps.
Ravi.
Buck had texted him before they left the hospital, the decision impulsive. Athena had asked if there was someone to stay with him, and sure, he could’ve called Mel or even Sal. But Ravi’s name had been the first to come to mind, and for once he hadn’t second-guessed himself before hitting send.
“Hey,” Ravi said with a small, crooked smile, relief flashing in his expression as Buck came closer. “You had me worried with that text. Everything okay? Where’s Tommy?”
Buck’s throat tightened at the question, his steps slowing until he stopped at the bottom of the porch. For a second he couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t shape them around the knot in his chest. He forced himself to meet Ravi’s eyes, the effort alone making his voice shake.
“He’s… he’s in the hospital,” Buck said at last, the words splintering on a sharp breath. “There was an explosion. He’s alive, but—” His voice cracked, the rest catching in his throat. “He hasn’t woken up yet.”
The crooked smile slipped from Ravi’s face, replaced by something quieter, emotional. He took a step down, closing the distance without hesitation. “Buck,” he said gently, “I’m so sorry.”
Buck’s breath hitched, a sound he barely managed to swallow down. He shook his head, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, the words torn and uneven. “I just… I can’t lose him, Ravi.”
Ravi didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He set a steady hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re not. Tommy’s way too stubborn to give up without a fight,” he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth even as his eyes stayed serious. “He’s going to make it through this. And you’re not alone in it. Whatever happens, we’ll take it one step at a time. I’m right here.”
“Thanks, Ravi. I just… I appreciate you being here. I know this wasn’t what you expected when I messaged you, but I’m glad you came. I’d spend the whole night spiraling otherwise. I just… I’m sorry I’m not exactly going to be fun to be around.”
Ravi shook his head firmly. “Buck, that’s not what matters. You don’t have to perform for anyone right now, least of all me. You just have to breathe. Let me worry about the rest.”
A weak laugh slipped out of Buck, half a sob, half relief. “That’s easier said than done.”
“Good thing I’m stubborn too,” Ravi said, his hand giving Buck’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come on. We’ll make some tea, find the dumbest movie we can, and let the night take care of itself. And tomorrow, I’ll drive you back to the hospital.”
Buck’s chest ached, but this time it didn’t feel like it was caving in. “That actually sounds… kind of perfect.”
“I’m here for you, Buck.”
They made their way into the house, Buck choking up the moment Tommy’s scent wrapped around him. He’d been in the house plenty of times alone, but this time was different. The air felt heavy, like the walls themselves were waiting, holding their breath. One wrong move and everything might shatter.
Buck excused himself to change out of his clothes while Ravi moved easily through the kitchen, putting on water for tea and digging out snacks like he belonged there. Soon they were settled on the couch, side by side, the low glow of the TV flickering across the room. They kept up a running commentary, half-hearted jokes about bad special effects, predictable plots, just enough to keep Buck anchored without forcing him to talk about what he wasn’t ready to say.
The distraction worked. His thoughts didn’t spiral, not the way they had been threatening to all night. For a while, he could forget.
They were a few movies in when Buck’s eyes started to grow heavy. He fought it at first, a knot of fear coiled tight in his stomach. Sleep meant dreams. Dreams meant losing control. But the harder he fought to stay awake, the quicker exhaustion pulled him under, and eventually, he let himself slip.
At first it was nothing but smoke. Thick, choking, curling around him like a snake. Buck stumbled through it, vision blurred, lungs burning, every breath dragging fire into his chest. Somewhere in the distance, alarms wailed, muted and warped like they were underwater.
He caught sight of movement, a silhouette just beyond the haze. Helmet. Turnout gear.
“Bobby!” Buck shouted, his voice swallowed by the roar of unseen flames. He pushed forward, boots sliding on wet tile, but the closer he got, the further Bobby seemed to drift. Like the smoke itself was pulling him away.
“Buck.” The voice came low, steady, the way Bobby always sounded when things were falling apart. His outline flickered, fading in and out between bursts of firelight. “You can’t save everyone.”
Buck lurched forward, reaching out. “Don’t say that. Don’t leave me!”
The smoke shifted, twisting Bobby’s form into another, Tommy, sprawled on the ground, face pale beneath soot, chest frighteningly still. Buck dropped to his knees, hands pressing uselessly at Tommy’s shoulders, willing him to wake.
“Come on, Tommy. Please, just open your eyes.”
For a moment, Tommy’s lashes fluttered, hope sparking sharp and desperate in Buck’s chest, then his body went limp, slipping through Buck’s grip like smoke, vanishing into the fire.
“No!” Buck’s scream tore his throat raw as the flames surged higher, devouring everything. His hands came up to shield his face, but there was no escape. Heat pressed in on all sides, unbearable. He couldn’t breathe—
“Buck! Hey…Buck!”
A hand shook his shoulder hard, snapping him upright. He gasped, dragging in air so sharp it burned, eyes flying open to the dim morning light. The TV was still playing low in the background, empty mugs abandoned on the coffee table.
Ravi crouched in front of him, worry carved deep across his face. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just a dream.”
Buck swiped at his damp face, still shaking, the phantom taste of smoke lodged in his throat. “God,” he rasped. “I thought—” His voice broke, and he pressed a hand hard over his mouth.
“You’re here,” Ravi said, firm but gentle. “You’re okay.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after eight am. You actually slept a fair bit.” He glanced toward the clock, then back at Buck. “Didn’t think you’d let yourself.”
Buck blinked, disoriented. Morning sunlight spilled weakly through the blinds, the kind that made everything look washed out, unreal. He hadn’t meant to sleep. He hadn’t wanted to. But he had.
He dropped his hands into his lap, still trembling faintly. “It felt so real,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “Like I lost him.”
Ravi stayed crouched in front of him, steady and calm. “But you didn’t. Tommy’s still here.”
Buck nodded, swallowing hard. The smoke still lingered in his head, fear still coursing through his body, but he forced himself to breathe, slow, deliberate. He reached for his phone and exhaled when he saw no missed calls. No news meant nothing had changed. Tommy had made it through the night.
“Why don’t you grab a shower,” Ravi suggested gently, “and I’ll put something together for breakfast. I know you’ll want to get to the hospital as soon as possible.”
Buck pushed himself up, stretching stiff muscles. “Yeah. Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Ravi said easily, already heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll hang around a bit before my shift. I’m guessing you’re calling out?”
“Yeah. Mac’s handling it. She’s keeping me off shift for at least a few days.” His voice dropped, thick with fatigue. “Not like I’d be any good right now.”
“That’s good,” Ravi said, a note in his voice Buck couldn’t quite name, something close to envy, though softer. “She’s really looking out for you.”
“Yeah,” Buck admitted quietly. “She’s been great. She’s a good Captain.”
Ravi leaned against the counter, studying him for a moment. “Do you want me to tell anyone at the 118?”
Buck hesitated, the question landing heavier than it should have. Finally, he shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe when there’s more to say. Right now… I just can’t deal with them. They don’t even know Tommy and I are back together, and honestly? I need them to stay away. I can’t handle their comments or opinions. Not about this.” His jaw tightened. “I can’t be held responsible for what I’d say back.”
“No worries, man. I get it,” Ravi said simply, no judgment in his tone. He gave Buck’s arm a quick, grounding squeeze before stepping back toward the kitchen. “Alright then…let’s get to it.”
The tension in Buck’s shoulders eased, just a fraction. He managed a faint smile at his friend. Right now, Ravi was exactly what he needed, a steady, positive presence keeping him from drowning.
****
They ate a quiet breakfast together from whatever Ravi was able to pull from Tommy’s fridge. The conversation stayed light, circling around movies and nothing of importance, exactly what Buck needed to keep his thoughts from spiraling. When the dishes were rinsed and set aside, Buck grabbed his jacket and phone, the knot of nerves he couldn’t shake as they made their way to Ravi’s car.
Buck stared out the window as they drove, the city sliding past in a blur, every passing block tightening the coil in his chest. By the time they pulled into the hospital lot, his hands were already fisted against his thighs, his breath uneven.
Inside, the antiseptic air hit him instantly, sharp, sterile, the kind of smell that always dragged memories with it. He followed the hallway he already knew by heart, pace quickening with every step until he reached the door to Tommy’s room. Buck paused just long enough to brace himself before pushing it open.
The door gave way with a muted click, and Buck slipped inside.
The steady rhythm of machines filled the room first, soft beeps, the faint whoosh of the ventilator, a low hum that made the silence even sharper. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in slants of pale morning light that painted everything in washed-out tones.
And then there was Tommy.
He lay so still against the white sheets, skin a shade paler than Buck was used to, chest rising and falling in a slow, mechanical rhythm that didn’t belong to him but to the machine helping him breathe. His hair was flattened on one side, bandages tucked carefully near his temple.
The sight knocked the air from Buck’s lungs. He gripped the doorframe for a second, just to stay upright, before forcing his legs to move. Each step closer made his heart pound harder, like he was walking into a fire he couldn’t put out.
“Hey,” Buck whispered, his voice breaking before it had even formed. He reached the bedside and sank into the chair, one hand trembling as it hovered above Tommy’s arm before finally making contact. Warm. Alive. Proof that he was still here.
Buck bowed his head, pressing their joined hands against his forehead. His eyes burned, but the tears didn’t fall, caught somewhere between grief and desperate hope. “You’ve got to wake up,” he murmured, barely audible. “I can’t do this without you, Tommy. Please.”
The machines went on beeping steadily, indifferent.
From the doorway, Ravi lingered, hands in his pockets, his face pulled taut with quiet sympathy. For a long moment he just watched, letting Buck have the silence, but when Buck’s shoulders began to shake, Ravi finally stepped forward. His footsteps were soft, measured, like he was afraid to break something fragile.
He rested a hand on Buck’s back, just between his shoulder blades. Buck exhaled on a shudder, leaning into the contact without lifting his head. The touch didn’t fix anything, but it kept him from tipping over the edge.
The door opened again, this time with the brisk confidence of someone used to these halls. A doctor in light blue scrubs stepped in, glancing first at the chart in his hand and then at Buck and Ravi.
“You’re here early,” he said, his tone professional but not unkind. He moved to the far side of the bed, scanning Tommy’s monitors before continuing. “Your partner made it through the night, which is good news. But he’s still critical, and we have a few concerns we’re keeping a close eye on.”
Buck lifted his head, throat dry. “What kind of concerns?”
The doctor hesitated, then set the chart aside. His expression softened, but his voice stayed measured. “The blast caused significant trauma to his lungs. The ventilator is supporting him for now, but we need to see progress before we can even consider weaning him off. We are also monitoring for possible infections due to the shrapnel that was logged in his body and any internal bleeding we may have missed. So far, his levels are holding steady, but these are things we’ll be watching very closely.”
Buck’s stomach lurched, his grip on Tommy’s hand tightening. “And… when will he wake up?”
“It’s too soon to know,” the doctor said gently. “Right now, the priority is letting his body rest and heal. The fact that he made it through the night without complication is in his favour. But we’re still in a waiting period. We’ll reassess every few hours.”
The words pressed down on Buck like a weight, not despair, but no easy reassurance either. The kind of middle ground that left him hanging between hope and fear.
The doctor gave him a small, understanding nod. “I know it’s hard, but sometimes the best thing you can do is be here. Talk to him. Familiar voices can make a difference.”
With that, he excused himself, leaving Buck and Ravi in the hush of the room, the steady beep of the monitors the only proof Tommy was still fighting.
Ravi’s hand tightened on Buck’s shoulder. “See? He’s fighting. You’re not the only stubborn one here.”
Buck let out a breath that trembled on its way out, the first flicker of relief threading through the fear. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, he is.”
Buck sat in silence long after the doctor left, his fingers still wrapped tightly around Tommy’s hand. The steady rise and fall of the ventilator was both a comfort and a torment, proof Tommy was alive, a reminder he wasn’t breathing on his own.
Ravi shifted quietly, the scrape of the chair legs soft against the tile as he pulled one closer. “I’ll grab us some coffee,” he said, tone gentle but certain, like he already knew Buck wouldn’t think to ask. He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with two steaming cups and a wrapped muffin from the cafeteria.
“Eat,” he urged, nudging it toward Buck. “Doesn’t have to be much. Just something.”
Buck managed a few bites, more for Ravi’s sake than his own, but the warmth of the coffee helped settle the shaking in his hands. He shot Ravi a faint, tired smile. “You didn’t have to—”
“I did,” Ravi cut in softly, not unkind. “That’s what being here means.”
They stayed like that for another hour, the silence between them steady, broken only by the occasional murmur from Buck or the shuffle of nurses in the hallway. Ravi didn’t press, didn’t fill the quiet with empty words, he just stayed, anchoring Buck in the chair when he might’ve otherwise come apart.
Eventually, Ravi checked his watch and exhaled. “I’ve gotta head out…shift starts soon.” He stood reluctantly, lingering a moment longer at Buck’s side. “You’ll be okay here?”
Buck nodded, though his voice wavered. “Yeah. Thanks for… for everything.”
Ravi’s hand settled on his shoulder again, firm and grounding. “Listen, if you need me, call. Doesn’t matter if I’m on shift, doesn’t matter what time it is. You don’t have to go through any of this alone, Buck. Not for a second.”
Buck swallowed hard, the words lodging somewhere deep. “I know. I… I’m really glad you came.”
Ravi’s mouth curved into a small, earnest smile. “Always.” He gave Buck’s shoulder a final squeeze, lingering just long enough to make sure the message landed, then finally slipped out the door.
Buck turned back to Tommy, the silence of the room pressing in again. But this time, it wasn’t suffocating, Ravi’s steadiness lingered, like an anchor he could still feel even after he was gone.
****
The door clicked shut behind Ravi, leaving Buck once again with the steady beeping of the monitors and the too-bright hum of the fluorescents. He shifted closer, his chair scraping softly against the floor as he leaned in, fingers curling tight around Tommy’s.
“Hey,” Buck murmured, voice rough. “It’s just me again. Ravi had to head out for his shift, but he says hi. He… he brought me coffee, made sure I ate.” A thin laugh broke from his chest, more air than sound. “You’d probably be proud of him for that. Or pissed he had to play babysitter. Either way.”
His thumb brushed absently over Tommy’s knuckles, steadying himself on the warmth there. “You scared the hell out of me, you know. And you’re still scaring me. But I’m not going anywhere. So you’d better not either.” He paused, the silence pressing in again, then added quietly, “I love you.”
Time blurred after that, nurses coming in and out, the rhythm of machines, Buck’s world shrinking to the chair at Tommy’s side.
A few hours later, the sound of footsteps and low voices in the hall pulled him out of his haze. The door opened, and Mel appeared first, her expression softening when she saw him. Behind her, Sal and Jackson hovered, their usual banter muted.
“Hey,” Mel said gently as she stepped in first, her voice softer than Buck had ever heard it. “We thought we’d check in. See how he’s doing. See how you’re doing.”
She moved to the far side of the bed, fingers brushing briefly over Tommy’s arm before resting lightly against the blanket. Her lips pressed together, as though she wanted to say more but held back, instead giving Buck a look that carried both quiet solidarity and firm reassurance.
“How are you holding up?” she asked finally, her tone cautious, like she already suspected the answer.
Buck let out a breath that was halfway to a laugh. “I don’t even know how to answer that right now.”
Mel’s brows lifted. “Fair.”
His hand tightened around Tommy’s. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and he’ll—” He cut himself off, shaking his head hard.
Mel leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “He made it through the night,” she reminded him. “That’s not nothing. You know as well as I do, getting through those first hours matters.”
Buck nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know how to sit here and not do anything. It feels like I should be—”
“—saving him?” Mel supplied gently.
His eyes flicked up to hers, startled by the accuracy.
“You can’t this time, Buck,” she said, her voice steady, not unkind. “That’s not on you. What you can do is be here. That matters more than you think.”
For a moment, the tension in his chest eased, just enough to let him breathe. “Thanks,” he murmured. “For coming. For… saying that.”
Mel gave a small shrug, but her eyes stayed warm. “Family doesn’t clock out when things get hard. Neither do friends. You’re stuck with us.”
Buck’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Could be worse.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, then glanced back at Tommy, her hand brushing the blanket once more before she stood to make room for Sal. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Could be worse.”
Mel stayed for a few more minutes before she switched places with Sal, his usual swagger muted but not entirely gone. He hovered at the foot of the bed for a long moment, rubbing the back of his neck before forcing a crooked grin.
“We show up and he can’t even bother to open his eyes? That’s just rude, man.”
His arms folded across his chest, but the act didn’t hold; his posture softened as he stepped closer to the bed. The grin slipped, his eyes locked on Tommy’s face with a kind of intensity Buck wasn’t used to seeing from him. “I’m not gonna lie, man. You’re freaking us out. I don’t like this version of you. Too quiet. Too still.” He shook his head, voice dropping lower.
Sal’s hand came up to rest briefly against the bedrail, fingers drumming once before stilling. “You’ve carried the rest of us more times than I can count. Now it’s your turn to let us carry you. So… do the stubborn Tommy thing, okay? Fight your way back. Don’t leave us hanging.”
The words hung in the air, heavy, unflinching. Buck’s throat tightened. For once, there was no punchline hiding under Sal’s tone, just the raw truth of how much he needed Tommy here.
Sal blew out a breath and glanced at Buck, his mouth twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “He’ll wake up,” he said, almost like a promise to himself. “Guy’s too much of a pain in the ass not to.”
Buck exhaled, shaky but real, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. Sal gave the bedrail one last tap before stepping back, his expression a mix of determination and worry that betrayed just how much Tommy meant to him
Sal lingered a moment longer before stepping back, giving a small nod toward Jackson who hesitated at the doorway, like he wasn’t sure he belonged here. When he finally moved closer, his steps were slower, more deliberate, and he pulled a chair up beside the bed instead of standing. His hand hovered awkwardly over the rail before finally settling there, fingertips brushing against the cool metal.
“Hey, man,” Jackson said softly, his voice catching a little. “This isn’t… this isn’t how it’s supposed to go, you know? You’re the guy who drags the rest of us through the fire, you’re not the one who gets laid up here.”
His hand curled into a fist against the rail. “You can’t… you can’t do this, Tommy. Not to us. Not to me.” He blinked hard, eyes shining, and forced his voice lower, steadier. “So you fight, okay? You fight your way back. We’ll hold the line until you do.”
The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of the monitors. Buck’s chest ached as he watched, Jackson, usually so sure of himself, stripped bare by the sight of Tommy lying there. There was something almost unbearable about it, seeing his own fear mirrored in someone else, the truth of what Tommy meant to all of them laid out so plainly.
Jackson let out a slow breath and straightened, swiping at his face with the heel of his hand like he could wipe the cracks away. He didn’t look at Buck right away, just kept his eyes on Tommy a moment longer. When he finally did glance over, it was with a quiet, unguarded honesty.
“He’s gotta make it through this,” Jackson murmured. “I don’t know what we do if he doesn’t.”
Buck swallowed hard, his voice rough when it came. “Neither do I.”
The admission sat heavy between them, but it was real, and for Buck, it felt like less of a burden having spoken it out loud.
After a while, Mel circled back to Buck, her brows knitting as she took in his pale face, the exhaustion still etched in every line of him. “Alright,” she said firmly, hooking a hand around his arm. “You’re coming with me. We’re getting you some food.”
Buck shook his head immediately. “No, I’m not—”
“Sal and Jackson will stay,” she cut in, glancing back at the guys, who both nodded without hesitation. “You need ten minutes away from this room, Buck. Just ten. Tommy’s not going anywhere, and neither are they.”
Sal gave him a reassuring look. “We’ve got him. Go.”
Jackson added softly, “He’d want you to take care of yourself, too.”
Buck looked between them, torn, the weight of resistance on his tongue. But Mel’s hand was already tightening on his arm, her eyes leaving no room for argument. Finally, with a reluctant exhale, he nodded.
“Just ten minutes,” he muttered, though his gaze darted back to Tommy, as if reassuring himself he’d still be there when he returned.
“Good enough,” Mel said, tugging him gently toward the door.
Sal lifted his chin in a nod. “We’ve got him, Buck. Promise.”
Jackson’s hand lingered on the rail, steady and protective. “Go on. We got this.”
Buck let out a shaky breath and allowed himself to be guided out, every step away from the bed heavier than it should’ve been. But knowing Tommy wasn’t alone, that they were here, holding the line, made it possible to let go, if only for a little while.
****
The cafeteria was half-empty, the low hum of voices and clatter of trays a strange contrast to the heavy quiet upstairs. Buck followed Mel to a corner table with two paper plates and a couple of coffees. She slid his plate across the table and raised a brow until he sat.
“Eat,” she said flatly, before he could even think of protesting.
Buck gave a faint huff, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “You sound like Athena.”
“Good,” Mel shot back. “She’s smarter than you.”
Buck shook his head, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth as he picked up the fork. He stabbed at the food, not really tasting the first bite, but the act of chewing seemed to loosen the knot in his chest just a little.
Mel leaned back, sipping her coffee as she watched him. “You know you’re not doing him any favours by running yourself into the ground, you know that right?”
He glanced up, defensive. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“You didn’t,” she countered easily. “You walked ten minutes downstairs with me. Meanwhile, Sal and Jackson are up there keeping him company. He’s not alone, Buck. Neither are you.”
He set the fork down, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It just feels like if I look away, something’s gonna happen.”
Mel’s gaze softened, but her tone stayed steady. “Then let us look for you. That’s what friends are for. You’d do the same for any one of us.”
For a long moment, Buck sat quiet, eyes fixed on the scratched surface of the table. Then he exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping a fraction. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I would.”
Mel smirked, satisfied. “Exactly. So eat, Buckley. Doctor’s orders…well, mine. Which is better.”
That earned her the faintest laugh, tired but real. He picked the fork back up, and this time he didn’t fight it.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the clatter of cutlery and hum of the cafeteria wrapping around them like background noise. Buck didn’t finish much, but more than he expected. The coffee helped, bitter and grounding.
Mel pushed her empty plate aside, eyeing him over the rim of her cup. “See? Ten minutes, and the world didn’t end.”
Buck let out a quiet breath, almost sheepish. “Feels like it could any second.”
“That’s the thing about waiting,” she said. “It always feels longer than it is. But you’re not the only one waiting, Buck. Don’t carry it like you are.”
He swallowed hard, the words sinking deeper than he wanted to admit. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
She shrugged, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. “We are here for you Buck, and Tommy is going to be slinging sarcastic comments at us in no time.”
The image tugged a small, reluctant smile out of him. He could almost hear Tommy’s voice, dry, amused, alive, and the ache of it cut sharp, but it steadied him too.
****
The elevator doors slid open with a hollow chime, the sterile brightness of the ICU hall greeting them once again. Buck’s stomach tightened with every step closer to Tommy’s room, his half-finished coffee forgotten in the trash on the way up. Mel walked beside him, steady, her shoulder brushing his once in a quiet reminder that she was still there.
Sal and Jackson had seen them coming and stepped out into the corridor as they got closer.
“He’s the same,” Sal reported quickly, reading the question already in Buck’s eyes. “Monitors steady. Still sleeping.”
Jackson gave a small nod. “We kept him entertained with the latest misadventures of the probie at the 122.”
The corner of Buck’s mouth twitched, though it never quite made it into a smile. “He’d have a field day with that.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said quietly. “We figured he’d want to know what he’s missing.”
For a moment, the four of them stood there in the hallway, the weight of unspoken hope and fear settling between them. Then, from inside the room, a sharp alarm split the air.
All at once, Tommy’s monitors spiked into chaos.
Buck’s blood ran cold. He surged forward, but Sal’s hand shot out, clamping hard on his arm.
“Buck…no. Let them work.”
“Let me go!” Buck strained against him, panic clawing its way up his throat. He could see shadows moving inside the room, nurses rushing to Tommy’s bedside, a doctor snapping quick, clipped orders. The sight of Tommy’s body shifting as they adjusted the bed made Buck’s chest seize.
Mel pressed in at his side, firm and steady. “He needs them right now, not you. Stay with us.”
Buck’s knees buckled, his hand slamming against the wall for balance as the alarms clawed at his ears. His vision tunnelled, nausea surging hot and sharp. Every instinct screamed at him to force his way inside, to do something, but his body felt like it was splitting down the middle, frozen terror warring with desperate motion.
The corridor filled with hurried footsteps and a voice Buck knew too well.
“Buck?”
He turned sharply to see Hen and Chimney approaching, both still in uniform, faces drawn tight with urgency.
“We were here on a call,” Chimney said quickly, eyes flicking past Buck to the chaos in the room. “Heard Tommy had been hurt. We came to—” His words faltered at the sight of the alarms flashing, nurses working furiously inside.
“This isn’t the time,” Sal cut in quickly, stepping into their path, his tone clipped.
But Chimney pushed anyway, eyes narrowing. “What’s going on? Is this why you called out of shift”
Buck didn’t answer, he couldn’t. His entire world had narrowed to the sight of Tommy’s body surrounded by machines and frantic hands, the rise and fall of voices he couldn’t quite make out through the glass. He stood frozen, jaw tight, heart pounding in his throat.
“Buck.” Chimney’s voice sharpened, insistent, but it faded as the door swung open and a doctor stepped into the hall. He pulled down his mask, grave expression set as he approached.
“We need to bring him back to surgery,” he said without preamble. “We believe there’s internal bleeding at one of the suture sites. We need to open him back up and find the source.”
The words landed like a blow. Buck’s breath caught, chest constricting as panic clawed its way up his throat. “No…no, he made it through the night. You said…he was stable—”
“Buck.” Mel’s hand pressed firmly against his chest, steady and grounding. Her voice was calm but unyielding. “Listen to me. They caught it and they are going to fix him.”
The doctor gave a short, certain nod, his gaze steady on Buck. “We’ll do everything we can. Your partner has a lot in his favour. Right now, he needs you to stay strong for him.”
As Tommy was wheeled past, Buck fell into step beside the gurney, his hand brushing briefly against Tommy’s arm before he was forced to stop at the edge of the OR doors. The team disappeared inside, leaving Buck standing there, raw and shaking, his eyes fixed on the space where he’d last seen Tommy.
Behind him, Hen’s voice cut through the silence, low but edged with hurt. “Since when is he back with Tommy?”
Buck didn’t turn, didn’t move. His jaw tightened.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Mel said evenly, stepping just half a pace closer to Buck as though daring them to push.
Hen didn’t like that answer, “They are both our friends.”
Sal shifted, planting himself squarely between Buck and the others. His voice was calm, but the steel in it was unmistakable. “If Buck had wanted you to know, he would’ve told you. Right now, the only thing that matters is Tommy making it through surgery. So if you’re here for him, fine. But if you’re here to pick a fight with Buck? Not happening. Not today.”
Hen’s lips pressed tight, emotion flashing in her eyes.
“We appreciate you coming to check on Tommy,” Sal finished firmly, “but you need to give Buck space. When Tommy’s stable, you can revisit this conversation. Right now? You leave him alone.”
But Chimney pushed anyway, voice heavy with a mix of frustration and hurt. “We’re supposed to be his family. And he’s been hiding this from us?”
That made Buck turn. His face was pale, his eyes burning, every nerve stretched taut.
“You want to know why I didn’t say anything?” His voice cracked, raw with anger. “Because this—” he gestured sharply at Chimney and Hen, at the tight-lipped hurt and judgment on their faces “—this is exactly why. You act like you’re entitled to opinions on my life.”
His breath hitched, but he pushed through, each word weighted and cutting. “After Tommy and I broke up, you teased me. Said I was being ridiculous for wanting to fix things. Like it was some big joke.”
Buck’s voice shook, but his glare stayed sharp. “And when I didn’t just move on, when I couldn’t fake being fine, you got annoyed. Like you couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just get over it.”
His chest rose and fell hard, every syllable spilling anger and hurt. “And then when Bobby died? You ignored me. Tommy was the one who showed up. He was the one who didn’t let me drown and we found our way back to each other.”
Buck’s hand cut through the air, final, furious. “So excuse me for wanting to protect the one good thing in my life from the jokes, from the judgment, from you trying to shrink it into something less than what it is.”
Hen flinched, her arms folding tighter across her chest. Chimney opened his mouth, but Buck cut him off, shaking his head hard.
“I don’t have the energy to fight you. Not now. Not when he’s in there fighting for his life.” His voice dropped, gutted. “So just… leave me alone.”
Without waiting for an answer, Buck turned on his heel, storming down the hall, his steps echoing off the sterile walls. He shoved through a set of double doors, not caring where he was going, just needing air.
The evening air hit him sharp and cool, the muffled sounds of the city bleeding in at the edges. He braced his hands on his knees, chest heaving, the fluorescent glow of the hospital entrance washing everything in sickly white. Anger still pulsed hot under his skin, but underneath it, fear clawed harder, fear that no outburst, no fight, no fury could fix the one thing that mattered.
“Hey.”
The voice made him jolt. Buck straightened, swiping at his face as he turned. A man stood a few feet away, tall, lean, his dark jacket loose against the breeze. His expression was concerned as he took Buck in. “You okay?”
Buck gave a broken laugh. “No. Not even close.”
The man didn’t push. He just nodded, like he understood, and stayed where he was.
“Want to talk about it?”
Something in Buck, scraped raw, everything stripped away, cracked open.
“My boyfriend’s in there, fighting for his life.” His voice caught, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. “We were supposed to have a family dinner last night, but he got called in to a fire. There was an explosion and now—” Buck’s breath hitched, sharp and uneven. “Now I don’t even know if he’s going to make it. They’ve taken him back in because he’s bleeding somewhere they can’t find.”
His voice fractured, thick with tears. “I save people for a living, and I can’t do a damn thing for him.”
The man’s brow furrowed, but his tone stayed soft. “That’s the worst part, isn’t it? Sitting still. Having to trust strangers with the person you love most.”
Buck dragged a hand over his face, swallowing hard. “Feels like I should be in there. Doing something. Anything. Instead I’m just—” He gestured helplessly toward the hospital doors, eyes burning. “Out here falling apart.”
“It may feel like you are falling,” the man said quietly. “But you’re his strength right now. His tether to this world.”
The words landed heavier than Buck expected, pulling something tight in his chest. He looked at the man properly for the first time, seeing a deep weariness that mirrored his own.
The man gave a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “I know because… I’m living it too.” He exhaled, gaze flicking toward the sky as though steadying himself. His next words came slower, heavier, like he had to force them out.
“My daughter. She was hurt in a fire. Burned badly. She’s been in a coma ever since. The doctors… they don’t think she’ll wake up.” His throat bobbed, the admission scraping raw. “They’ve started talking to me about machines. About letting her go.”
The ache in Buck’s chest doubled, sharp and suffocating. The words crashed too close, too possible, echoing every fear that had been clawing at him since last night. His voice wavered as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.” He meant it, deeply, because he couldn’t imagine being asked to make that choice. Not for Tommy. Not ever.
The man’s mouth twitched into a weary smile, one that didn’t quite hold but tried anyway. “You sit there, watching them breathe, wishing you could do something, anything. But sometimes the only thing you can do is stay. Be there. That’s harder than any fire you’ll ever run into.”
Buck’s throat tightened as he stared at his shaking hands. “Yeah,” he rasped. “That’s exactly it.”
For a moment, they stood in the quiet, bound together by the same helpless ache. Then the man extended his hand, gentle and steady. “Cole.”
Buck shook it without hesitation. “Buck.”
Cole tipped his head toward the hospital doors. “It was nice to meet you, Buck. I hope your boyfriend pulls through. Sounds like he’s got someone worth fighting for.”
Before Buck could respond, Cole was already heading back inside, his stride slow and heavy.
Buck continued to stand there, letting the night air wash over him, breathing like each inhale might anchor him, until another set of footsteps drew close.
Jackson emerged from the doors, relief flickering across his face when he spotted him. “There you are. Mel and Sal are upstairs going full mama and papa bear on Hen and Chimney. It’s quite the sight.”
Buck let out a weak, exhausted laugh. “That bad?”
Jackson’s smirk was faint, but real. “I think they’ve been waiting for this day ever since you and Tommy got back together.”
Something in Buck’s chest loosened, just a little. The anger, the panic, the helplessness, it didn’t vanish, but Jackson’s presence pressed back against the weight of it. He really had found his people. And for the first time all day, he let himself believe he wasn’t carrying this alone.
Jackson stepped closer, his voice low but steady. “Come on. Let’s get you back upstairs before Mel starts throwing things.”
A faint smile tugged at Buck’s mouth despite himself. He didn’t resist when Jackson laid a hand on his shoulder, warm and grounding, guiding him toward the doors.
The cool night air slipped away as they stepped back into the hospital’s harsh glow. Buck drew in a breath, bracing himself. Whatever waited upstairs, Tommy’s fight, Hen and Chimney, the endless unknown, he wasn’t walking back into it alone.
Notes:
So sorry for the delay, I had hoped to get this one up earlier, but life was just not going to let that happen! I hope you enjoy this one, Buck getting some comfort and the 118 are in the know and poor Tommy is back in surgery!
Thank you again for all the love and comments on the last chapter, your reactions just bring me joy! Still lots more to come and I am excited for you all to read what happens next!
Always love to hear your thoughts xo
Chapter 23: Holding the Line
Summary:
In the aftermath of Tommy’s surgery, Buck leans on unexpected support, faces truths he’s been avoiding, and begins to mend a fractured bond, while holding on to the hope that Tommy will wake up.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The waiting room had thinned to a handful of stragglers by the time Buck finally let himself sink into one of the stiff-backed chairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blinked. The fluorescent lights pressed against his eyes until every corner of the room seemed washed in the same sterile grey.
Jackson dropped down beside him, quiet in a way Buck wasn’t used to. His usual energy had been stripped back to something rawer, but his shoulder brushed Buck’s with deliberate weight, a silent reminder that he wasn’t sitting there alone.
Across from them, Mel leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, a Styrofoam cup of untouched coffee cooling in her hands. Sal sat close enough that their knees almost touched, murmuring something that earned her the barest flicker of a smile.
“They’re not coming back, you know,” Mel said after a moment, her voice low but steady. “Hen and Chim? We told them to go home. Figured you didn’t need the extra noise tonight. Said we’d keep them updated.”
Relief and guilt tangled sharp in Buck’s chest. He hadn’t realized how much air he’d been wasting just bracing for their judgement, for the sideways glances he’d been carrying since Bobby’s funeral. He swallowed hard. “Thanks,” he rasped.
Mel gave him a look that was almost fond. “We are here for you Buck, whatever you need. Even playing guard dog.”
Jackson reached over, stealing the coffee from her hand like it was second nature, muttering something about it tasting like tar. She kicked at him, mock irritation hiding the soft curve of her mouth. Buck caught the exchange out of the corner of his eye, the ease between them, and almost smiled. For a moment it was easier to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still room for something good to grow out of the smoke.
Time moved strangely after that. Minutes stretched heavy and shapeless, broken only by the squeak of rubber soles or the distant crackle of an intercom. Buck sat forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands locked tight together. Every sound made his head lift. Every doctor or nurse who passed through the sliding doors sent a jolt through his chest, only to leave it hollow again.
At some point, Sal disappeared and returned with vending-machine snacks, chips, chocolate, a bottle of a neon sports drink none of them touched. Mel dozed against the wall, her head eventually shifting and dropping to Sal’s shoulder. He didn’t shift, just let her rest there, staring off at nothing. Jackson flipped aimlessly through his phone, desperate for a distraction, but nothing grabbing him.
Finally, the doors opened and a man in scrubs stepped through. His mask hung loose around his neck, surgical cap still in place, fatigue etched into every line of his face. The room seemed to still all at once.
The surgeon approached, and Buck was on his feet before he reached them. “How is he?”
The doctor’s gaze settled on him, some of the tension in his expression softening. “The surgery went as well as we could hope. We found a small piece of shrapnel that had been missed initially. It caused a tear, which explains the sudden decline, but we were able to repair it. He’s stable now, looking better than when he came in.”
Buck’s breath caught, his body held tight on the edge of collapse.
“That said,” the surgeon continued, voice careful but not unkind, “he’s not out of the woods yet. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical. If there are no further complications, we’re optimistic. It’s going to be a recovery, but he came through surgery well, and right now we have every reason to be hopeful.”
The air left Buck’s lungs in a rush, his knees buckling just enough that Jackson’s hand shot out to steady him. For a moment, all Buck could do was bow his head, eyes squeezed shut as the weight of it hit, relief so sharp it almost hurt.
“He’s alive?” Buck whispered, just to be sure, because he needed to hear it again.
“Yes,” the surgeon confirmed gently. “He’s alive. You can see him once he’s settled back in his room.”
Behind Buck, Mel let out a choked sound that slipped into something like a laugh, shaky and wet around the edges. Jackson immediately turned, sliding an arm around her shoulders without hesitation. She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned into him, pressing her face against his chest like she’d run out of strength to hold herself upright. Sal’s eyes softened at the sight, his hand resting briefly on her back before dropping again.
Jackson met Buck’s gaze over her head, and for a moment, the two men shared the same unspoken relief.
“Thank you,” Buck managed, the words raw, frayed at the edges. His chest ached, but for the first time since the call came in, he could breathe a little easier.
He wasn’t sure how long they waited for the nurse to come get him and bring him back to see Tommy. Time blurred, minutes dissolving into hours until all that was left was the ache in his chest and the exhaustion grinding him down to nothing. He was in a daze. The past twenty-four hours had hollowed him out. He’d thought losing Bobby was the hardest thing he’d ever live through, but the thought of losing Tommy, of adding another fracture to a heart already cracked wide open, had him teetering on the edge.
When the nurse finally appeared and beckoned him down the hall, his legs moved on instinct, heavy and unsteady. He hesitated at the threshold, fingers curling tight around the doorframe afraid to step inside.
Tommy lay motionless beneath a web of wires and tubing, his skin pale against the hospital sheets, a ventilator humming in rhythm with his chest. For a moment Buck couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t reconcile the sight before him.
Slowly, he forced himself forward, dragging the chair closer until he could sink down at Tommy’s side. His hand hovered above the blanket before he finally reached out, lacing their fingers together.
Buck bent his head, pressing his forehead against their joined hands. A shudder tore through him, relief and fear colliding so hard it left him shaking.
“I’m here,” he whispered, voice cracking. “And I’m not going anywhere. So you just… fight your way back to me, okay? Because I can’t…” His words broke off, swallowed by the steady hiss of the ventilator.
He stayed like that, clinging to Tommy’s hand, letting the rhythm of the machines anchor him in the silence.
Eventually, the door cracked open. One by one, the others drifted in, Mel first, laying her hand lightly on Tommy’s arm before stepping back, eyes shining; Sal next, murmuring something under his breath that Buck couldn’t catch; then Jackson, lingering near the bed with a steady, unreadable look.
When the room grew too full of quiet bodies and unspoken prayers, Jackson touched Buck’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said gently. “He needs the rest, and so do you.”
Buck shook his head, his voice rough. “I don’t—”
“I’ve got you,” Jackson cut in, firm but not unkind. “You’re running on fumes. I’ll stay with you tonight. Tommy wouldn’t want you sitting here until you collapse. You have to take care of yourself if you want to be here for him.”
Buck’s gaze dropped back to Tommy, the weight of leaving almost unbearable. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, to hold on just a little longer. But Jackson’s hand was steady on his shoulder, an anchor, and the thought of walking into an empty apartment alone made his chest ache in a different way.
Finally, Buck nodded, the word barely leaving his lips. “Okay.”
He turned back to Tommy, his thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand, desperate to memorize the warmth still there. “I’ll be back in the morning. You just… hang on for me, okay? No more scaring me half to death.”
His chest ached as the words left him, too heavy to hold inside any longer. He bent closer, pressing his forehead against their joined hands, breathing in the faint antiseptic-and-hospital-linen scent that clung to Tommy now instead of the familiar cologne Buck knew by heart.
Letting go felt impossible, like peeling away a part of himself. His fingers lingered until the last possible second before he eased Tommy’s hand gently back onto the blanket.
Jackson squeezed Buck’s shoulder once, steady and wordless, before steering him gently out of the room. Behind them, Mel and Sal slipped in for a final moment with Tommy. The hallway was hushed, the fluorescent lights too bright, every step carrying Buck farther from the room and deeper into a bone-deep exhaustion he couldn’t shake.
The drive back to Tommy’s was quiet, city lights blurring past the window. Buck sat slouched against the passenger seat, forehead resting against the cool glass. He hadn’t realized how much the past day had drained him until stillness finally settled in his bones. Jackson didn’t fill the silence with small talk; he just let it be. Somehow, that made it easier.
By the time they pulled up outside Tommy’s place, Buck’s body was running on muscle memory alone. His limbs moved, but his mind lagged behind, fogged by exhaustion. Inside, the house still smelled faintly of Tommy, even though it had been days since he’d been there. An echo of normal life, suspended in time, waiting for someone to pick it up again.
Jackson disappeared into the kitchen and came back minutes later with two pizzas they’d grabbed on the way and a pair of sweating beer bottles. He flicked on the TV until he landed on Friends , the familiar laugh track spilling into the living room like background noise from a safer, simpler world.
“Figured you didn’t need silence,” Jackson said as he dropped onto the couch beside him.
Buck huffed out something halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Or my own thoughts.”
They ate in companionable quiet, broken now and then by Jackson tossing out a sarcastic comment about Ross’s hair or Chandler’s jokes. Against all odds, Buck found himself laughing. It didn’t erase the fear still clawing at his chest, but for the first time in hours, it eased.
Later, when Buck’s eyelids began to droop, Jackson nudged the empty beer bottle from his hand and reached for the remote. “C’mon, man. Get some sleep. Couch, bed, whatever… just get some rest.”
Buck didn’t argue. He leaned back into the cushions, the flicker of the TV painting the room in soft, shifting light, and finally let the weight of the day pull him under.
****
The morning came too soon. Buck woke on the couch with the TV still glowing faintly in the corner and the smell of pizza lingering in the air. For a moment, disorientation pressed in, he reached for something that wasn’t there before memory hit, sharp and heavy. Tommy. The hospital.
Buck drew a deep breath as the memories hit him. At least he hadn’t been dragged out of sleep by another nightmare. They always left him wrung out and hollow, and right now he couldn’t afford to feel weak. He needed to be strong, for Tommy, for himself.
Jackson shuffled out of the guest room not long after, hair sticking up, muttering something about needing the strongest coffee possible. They moved around each other easily, falling into a rhythm Buck hadn’t expected, Jackson frying eggs like he owned the place, Buck tidying the empty bottles from the night before.
For the first time in days, Buck exhaled. Jackson was Tommy’s best friend, had been for years, but right now he wasn’t just that. He was steady, grounding, someone Buck could lean on without explanation or judgement. Buck hadn’t realized how badly he needed that until now.
As they ate, Buck caught himself watching Jackson more than once. He’d always felt like an outsider looking in on the bond between him and Tommy, wondering if he’d ever measure up. But last night, shoulder to shoulder while Friends filled the quiet, Buck had felt something shift. Jackson wasn’t just here for Tommy, he was here for him. He had stepped in without hesitation, steadying Buck when he was close to breaking. For the first time, Buck didn’t feel like he was intruding.
By the time they headed back to the hospital, Buck’s nerves were clawing at him again. Even with a few hours of sleep, exhaustion still buzzed under his skin. But walking through the sliding doors felt different than it had the night before. The suffocating dread had eased, replaced by something fragile…hope.
As they made their way to Tommy’s room, Buck spotted a familiar figure waiting outside. Mac leaned against the opposite wall, coffee in hand. She straightened as soon as she saw them. “Morning,” she said, offering a tired smile. “The doctor’s just in with him now, but he looks better than the last time I saw him.”
The knot in Buck’s chest loosened, just enough to let him draw a deeper breath. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
Mac’s smile tilted, weary but wry. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
Buck let out a soft laugh. “I think you already know the answer.”
Her eyes softened. “It’s been rough. This one hit the team hard. We don’t have answers… just more questions.”
Buck nodded. He could tell there was more behind her words, something she wasn’t saying yet. But Mac wasn’t the type to bite her tongue without reason. If she was holding back, she’d tell him when the time was right.
The door to Tommy’s room opened and a doctor stepped out, tugging off his gloves as he glanced between the three of them. His eyes landed on Buck, and he gave a small nod of recognition. His expression wasn’t grim, and that alone made Buck’s heart leap in his chest.
“You’ll be glad to hear he’s holding steady,” the doctor said, voice calm but firm. “His vitals have stabilized. Blood pressure’s stronger, oxygen levels improving. The second surgery was the right call. Right now there are no signs of additional bleeding or infection. He’s still heavily sedated, but his body is responding the way we’d hope after a trauma like this.”
The words sank into Buck slowly, like his brain had to translate them one at a time. Holding steady. Stronger. Improving. Each one loosened the knot in his chest a little more, until he realized he was breathing deeper than he had in hours.
“We’ll monitor him closely,” the doctor continued, “but if this trajectory holds over the next twenty-four hours, we’ll have every reason to hope for a strong recovery. It’ll be a long road, but right now? Things look hopeful.”
Hopeful. The word landed heavy and light all at once. Buck wanted to cling to it, wrap it around himself like armour. For hours he’d lived with the fear of Tommy slipping away, and now, for the first time, he could believe there might be a future on the other side of this night.
Beside him, Mac exhaled slowly, her shoulders easing. Buck just nodded, swallowing hard, unable to trust his voice. He’d thought losing Bobby had hollowed him out completely. But the thought of losing Tommy had shown him there was still more left to lose. And now… now there was something worth holding onto.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Buck said finally, his voice raw but steady. “For everything.”
The doctor gave a short nod before excusing himself down the hall. Buck lingered for a moment, staring at the closed door, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait another second either.
Mac caught his eye and tilted her head toward the room. “Go on,” she said gently. Jackson gave an encouraging nod, staying at her side.
Buck pushed the door open slowly, the faint hum of machines filling the silence. He stepped inside, his gaze locking immediately on Tommy. The difference was subtle but undeniable, more colour in his skin, less of the ashen pallor that had haunted Buck the past two days. The monitors still beeped steadily, but the numbers looked stronger, less fragile.
For a long moment, Buck just stood there, taking it in. Relief swelled so hard in his chest it almost hurt. He moved closer, dragging the chair back to Tommy’s bedside, and lowered himself into it with a shaky breath. His hand found Tommy’s without hesitation, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.
“Hey,” Buck murmured, his voice rough but steadier than before. “They say you’re holding steady. Stronger. You’re fighting your way back, just like I knew you would.”
His throat tightened. He bent closer, letting his forehead rest briefly against Tommy’s hand. “I need you to keep going, okay? Because I’m not ready to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”
The only reply was the steady rhythm of the machines, but Buck clung to it, letting that sound anchor him. For the first time since the fire, sitting there didn’t feel like waiting for an ending.
The door cracked open softly, and Jackson slipped inside. He lingered near the foot of the bed, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking between Buck and Tommy. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just took in the sight of his best friend lying there, pale but alive.
“Told you he’s a stubborn son of a bitch,” Jackson said finally, voice quiet but steady.
A small, shaky smile tugged at Buck’s mouth. He let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Yeah, he is.”
Jackson moved closer, resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “He’s gonna fight his way through this, and you’ll be right here when he does.”
Buck swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.
“You don’t have to finish that,” Jackson said gently. “He’s still here. That’s all that matters.”
With a quiet sigh, Jackson glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta head out for my shift, but someone from the team will swing by tonight to bring you home. You’re not doing this alone.”
Buck looked up, eyes shining. “Thanks, Jackson. For… last night. For everything.”
Jackson’s mouth quirked into a tired smile. “Don’t mention it. Just take care of him.”
He gave Buck’s shoulder one last squeeze, then turned toward the door.
The room settled into quiet after Jackson left, the steady beeping of the monitors the only sound. Buck kept his hand curled around Tommy’s, letting the warmth there remind him he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t alone.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and Mac stepped inside, balancing two fresh cups of coffee. She handed one to Buck with a small smile.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Didn’t mean to intrude, but I thought you might want company.”
Buck shook his head quickly. “You’re not intruding.” His voice was low as he accepted the cup. “Thanks.”
Mac sank into the chair opposite him, cradling her coffee. For a while they talked about nothing in particular, the leave she’d managed to get approved so he could stay close to Tommy, the ridiculous stack of forms she’d had to push through to make it happen, and how she’d already heard about Chimney and Hen stopping by the other night.
“I know they probably mean well,” Mac said gently, watching him over the rim of her cup.
Buck huffed out a soft laugh. “I know. Doesn’t make it easier.”
Mac nodded slowly. “We have the power to hurt the ones we care about the most. Sometimes without even meaning to.”
Buck stared down into his coffee, thumb running along the rim. “I just don’t know what to say to them anymore. There’s so much left unsaid, but at this point…I don’t know if it would help or just make things worse.”
Mac nodded in quiet understanding, then steered the conversation toward the Alpha team, how they were holding up, who’d been crankier than usual, who’d been cracking jokes just to cut through the heaviness. She painted little snapshots of the firehouse, familiar rhythms that made Buck feel tethered to something normal again.
Sitting there with Mac, listening to her talk, steadied something in him. She carried a calming presence, unforced and sure, and Buck found himself grateful for it in a way words couldn’t quite reach.
But as the silence stretched, Buck found himself studying Mac over the rim of his coffee: the way her gaze lingered on the floor between sentences, the small crease at her brow, the tension in her shoulders that hadn’t eased even when she was laughing. She was holding something back. He knew it, Mac wasn’t the type to dance around words unless she had to. Whatever it was, it weighed on her, tucked carefully behind the comfort she’d been offering him.
A little while later, their conversation tapered into silence. Buck sipped the last of his coffee, gaze drifting back to Tommy before settling on Mac again. She sat across from him, thumb running along the edge of her cup, eyes not quite meeting his. The heaviness in her posture, the words she wasn’t saying, it wasn’t hesitation. Mac didn’t hesitate. It was restraint.
“You’re holding something back,” Buck said softly.
Her eyes flicked up to his, then away again. “Not now,” she murmured. “You have enough to deal with.”
Buck shook his head, squeezing Tommy’s hand once before turning fully toward her. “Don’t do that. Don’t protect me from the truth. If you know something…I need to hear it.”
“Buck—”
“I’m not asking,” he cut in, voice low but steady. “Tommy’s lying here because something went wrong. If there’s something I should be aware of, I can take it.”
Mac exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening. For a moment, she looked like she might argue. Then she gave a short nod.
“We don’t have much yet. The official investigation into this last fire is still in the early days, but I went back over the major fires these past few months.” Her gaze lifted to his, steady now. “You were right. There’s something there.”
Buck’s chest tightened. “A pattern?”
Mac nodded. “The toy you mentioned, it’s not the only time something like that turned up. Each scene has little markers, easy to dismiss when you’re looking at them one at a time. But together…” She trailed off, jaw locking. “The fires are escalating. Getting bigger. More deliberate. And every single time, first responders ended up hurt.”
Buck’s grip on Tommy’s hand tightened until his knuckles ached.
“I don’t know who or why,” Mac admitted, “but I do believe someone’s out there targeting firefighters. And if I’m right, Tommy wasn’t the first, and he won’t be the last.”
The room seemed to shrink around Buck, the air pressing tight in his lungs. For weeks, he’d been chasing the nagging sense that none of this was random. Hearing Mac confirm it didn’t feel like relief, it felt like the ground shifting under his feet. But at least now he knew. At least he wasn’t imagining it.
He glanced down at Tommy, pale but steady beneath the monitors. His chest ached. If someone was doing this on purpose, how many more would end up here?
Buck’s stomach dropped, the words crashing into him with more force than the fire itself. His mind spun backward, replaying scene after scene like a reel he couldn’t shut off, the gutted warehouse, the high-rise collapse, the abandoned factory. The chaos, the smoke, the heat. And threaded through it all, the details that hadn’t sat right at the time.
The toy.
He could still see it, melted, blackened plastic half-buried in ash where it had no reason to be. At the time, he’d written it off, shoved the unease down because there were people to pull out, hoses to drag, orders to follow. But that sick twist in his gut hadn’t gone away. It never had.
And now, with Mac’s words ringing in his ears, it all snapped together with brutal clarity.
His pulse thundered as his mind raced through the rest, calls that had left him unsettled, little details that hadn’t fit, the nagging weight he’d ignored. I should’ve said something. I should’ve trusted my gut that something was off.
His grip on Tommy’s hand tightened until his knuckles ached. If I had… maybe he wouldn’t be here. Maybe none of them would’ve been hurt.
The monitors hummed steadily, Tommy’s chest rising and falling in time with the machines. Buck bent his head, pressing their joined hands to his forehead as guilt flooded through him, sharp and unrelenting.
“Buck.” Mac’s voice cut through, calm but firm. He hadn’t realized she’d leaned forward, her eyes fixed on him. “Don’t go there.”
But it was too late. The weight of it pressed hard against his ribs, all the fires collapsing into one long line of missed chances. The toy. The patterns. The gut feelings he’d buried. The signs were there, and I didn’t connect them. I didn’t say anything. And now Tommy—
“Buck,” Mac said again, sharper this time. He finally lifted his head, meeting her steady gaze. “This isn’t on you. None of us saw it. If you hadn’t spoken up after Tommy’s accident, we’d still be in the dark.”
Her words didn’t erase the guilt clawing at him, but they anchored him enough that he could breathe. The crushing weight in his chest eased by a fraction. Tommy’s pulse ticked steady against his palm, reminding him that he was still here, still fighting.
Mac leaned back, letting out a slow breath. “I’ve already passed my suspicions to some friends in arson investigation. They’re going to take a deeper look. I’ll keep feeding them what I know, but it’s going to take time. We need solid proof before we can move and bring in the police.”
Buck nodded, though his jaw was tight. “And if we’re right? If it is someone?”
“Then we stop them,” Mac said simply. Her voice carried no hesitation, no doubt. “But we don’t get reckless. We don’t give them more victims to chase. You understand?”
Buck’s gaze dropped to Tommy again, pale but steady beneath the monitors. He gave a small nod. “Yeah. I understand.”
Mac let the silence settle for a moment, her tone softening. “I’ll keep you in the loop. But right now? Focus on Tommy. He’s the priority. Let me worry about building this case.”
Before Buck could answer, the door opened and a nurse stepped inside, carrying a tray of supplies. “We need to change his bandages,” she said gently. “It’ll be easier if you step out for a bit.”
Buck brushed his thumb across Tommy’s hand one last time before easing his fingers free. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, then followed Mac into the hall.
They had just started down the corridor when a familiar figure came into view.
“Hey, Cole, right?” Buck greeted, stopping in his tracks. “How’s your daughter?”
Cole’s face darkened slightly before he sighed. “The same. Each day that passes and she doesn’t improve or show signs of waking up, the closer we get to having to make an impossible choice.”
Buck’s chest tightened, the weight of the words landing hard. He remembered the raw edge in Cole’s voice the night he’d first mentioned her, how fragile hope had sounded then. Now it was thinner still, stretched to breaking.
“I’m so sorry,” Buck said quietly. “I can’t even imagine.”
Cole gave a tired shrug, gaze flicking away down the hall. “You don’t want to. How’s your partner doing?”
Buck nodded, glancing toward the door they’d just left. “Better. It’s a waiting game, but the doctors seem pleased with his progress since the second surgery.”
Cole’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s good to hear.” His voice was flat, as if the words were practiced more than felt.
Buck shifted, then gestured to Mac to fill the silence. “This is Mac…Captain Ryan. She’s the boss of us these days.”
Cole extended his hand to shake hers. “Nice to meet you.” His grip was firm, but his eyes slid past her almost as quickly as they’d met. Up close, Buck caught a faint, acrid whiff clinging to his jacket, smoke that had seeped deep into fabric, stale and sour, the kind that didn’t fade after a night. It snagged at his attention for a moment before he pushed the thought aside.
Pulling away, Cole gave Buck a small nod. “I should get going, was just in for a quick visit this morning… need to get across town for work.”
Buck nodded.
“I hope your partner comes out of this, Buck,” Cole said quietly. His tone was steady, but something in the way his eyes held Buck’s made the words feel heavier, almost pointed. For a moment, Buck couldn’t tell if it was sympathy or something else entirely.
“Thanks,” Buck managed, his throat tight.
Cole gave a final nod and turned down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the hum of hospital noise.
“Who was that?” Mac asked after a moment.
“No one,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Met him last night after Chim and Hen’s visit. His daughter’s here… in a coma, I think.”
Mac’s brow softened. “I can’t imagine having to go through that.”
“Me neither.” Buck’s gaze lingered down the hall where Cole had gone. The faint tang of smoke still clung to his senses, a discordant note he couldn’t name. It was probably nothing… but the unease clung to him all the same.
****
Mac had left some time ago, a quiet promise lingering in her wake to keep him updated, and for him to reach out if he needed anything. The room settled back into its rhythm, the steady beep of monitors, the hiss of machines, the low hum of life holding on.
Buck sat close to the bed, Tommy’s hand cradled gently in his own. His voice was low, half-murmured, as though afraid to disturb the stillness.
“Did you know flamingos aren’t born pink? It’s their diet, shrimp and algae that turn them pink.” He huffed a soft laugh, rubbing his thumb lightly over Tommy’s knuckles. “I’ve been memorizing stuff like that for our next trivia night. Figured I’d carry the team while you pretend you don’t care until you start yelling answers at the screen.”
He glanced at the machines, then back to Tommy’s face. “You don’t get to bail on me now, okay? We’re not done. Not by a long shot.”
The words hung between them, his voice softening as the silence pressed back. He drew a shaky breath, reaching for anything to fill the space. The door opened quietly behind him. Buck straightened, expecting a nurse, only to freeze.
Maddie.
She lingered just inside the doorway, her expression a careful mix of relief and worry. “Hey,” she said softly.
Buck’s throat tightened. “Hey.”
The silence pressed thick between them. The machines kept their quiet vigil, but there was no familiar ease, no instinctive warmth, just space he hadn’t wanted to admit was there.
She shifted her weight, fingers twisting the strap of her purse. “Chim told me… about Tommy. I wanted to come and see how you were doing.”
Buck nodded, eyes dropping to Tommy’s still form. “Oh.” It was all he could manage. He stared like he didn’t quite recognize her, like the distance had stretched too wide to bridge with anything more.
Once, Maddie had been the person he could run to without thinking, the person who could read him before he spoke. Now, he didn’t know where to put his hands, didn’t know how to talk without feeling like the words would crack under the weight of everything unsaid.
He wanted to tell her he was terrified, that waiting for Tommy to wake was breaking him in ways he didn’t know how to carry. But all that came out was another, smaller, “Oh.”
Maddie’s expression flickered, hurt, maybe frustration, maybe both. And in that moment he realized just how far they’d drifted.
“I didn’t realize,” she said quietly, her voice fraying, “how much distance there was between us until today.” She swallowed, eyes glossing as they flicked toward Tommy, then back to him.
Buck’s throat closed. He should’ve told her. He’d told himself it was easier, that he was protecting something fragile and new, that letting anyone in would break it before it had a chance to last. But hearing her say it, hearing what his silence had cost, felt like standing in the wreckage of another fire he hadn’t been able to stop.
He opened his mouth, reaching for anything that might bridge the gap, but the words tangled and died. What could he say? I didn’t trust you with this. I didn’t trust anyone.
And wasn’t that the truth of it?
Still, hearing it from her his sister made his stomach twist. She was supposed to be the one he could trust with anything. But when Bobby died, everything splintered. And when Tommy came back, Buck hadn’t known how to let her in without losing what little he had left to hold on to.
He knew Maddie loved him. Fiercely. But sometimes that love was a weight, her worry threading through every choice he made. He didn’t want her hovering over this too, dissecting it, telling him how to grieve or who to lean on. Tommy had been the one steady place that was his, untouched by everyone else’s expectations.
So he’d stayed quiet.
Now, seeing the crack in her expression, hearing the fray in her voice—it felt like they were both standing on a ledge, with no clear way back.
Maddie held his gaze, eyes shining. When she finally spoke, the words came on a tremor. “It made me think back on everything. There were signs of how bad things were, and I ignored them. I kept pushing, even when you told me to stop. I thought I knew better, that I was protecting you, but I wasn’t listening.” She took a shaky breath.
“And that made you feel like you couldn’t come to me anymore,” she went on, softer, as if saying it out loud was a penance. “Like you couldn’t trust me with the good things either. Like you had to keep them to yourself.”
The words cut clean. Something inside him twisted. Hearing her see it was relief and devastation at once. He’d carried the guilt of shutting her out, convinced it was all on him. Now Maddie was holding a piece of that weight too.
“I did shut you out,” Buck said finally, his voice low and rough. The admission scraped through him—fragile but true. “You’re right. I didn’t tell you about Tommy, about a lot of things. Because…” He trailed off, staring at Tommy’s hand in his.
Maddie waited, silent, not pushing.
“Because I was scared,” he forced out. “Scared you’d look at me the way everyone else did after Bobby. Like I was broken. Reckless. Too much.” His breath shuddered. “And Tommy… he felt like the one thing that was mine. That gave me hope. The one thing I didn’t want anyone else’s voice in. Not even yours.”
His chest tightened, guilt and honesty tangling. “I didn’t trust you not to take that away from me. And I hate that I felt that…but I did.”
Silence, sharp enough to cut. He kept his eyes down, thumb tracing idle patterns across Tommy’s hand like the motion might keep him from unraveling. The words were out there now, and he couldn’t take them back.
When Maddie spoke, her voice was quiet, unsteady. “I’m sorry, Evan.” She drew a breath. “You’re right. I have looked at you that way, like I knew better. Like you were still the little kid whose knee I patched up when you did something stupid to get Mom and Dad’s attention. I see now how much that must have felt like judgment instead of love.”
He looked up, tentative, bracing for anger. What he found instead was raw honesty, and a grief that mirrored his own.
“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t trust me, couldn’t open up,” she said softly.
The apology soaked into him like water on dry ground, welcome, necessary, leaving hairline cracks all the same. He wanted to believe it fixed the space between them, but he knew better. Trust didn’t come back with words alone.
“I wanted to,” he said, voice rough. “But every time I thought about telling you, there was a comment, a look…something, and I froze. I didn’t want anyone telling me I was messing up. That Tommy wasn’t good for me. That I was making a mistake.” He met her eyes. “Because he’s not. We aren’t a mistake. Tommy’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Last time I let everyone else’s voice get in my head. I couldn’t do that again. There was too much at stake.”
His throat tightened, but the words kept coming, raw and unfiltered. “He saved me, Maddie. When everyone else turned away, he didn’t. He reached out and held on. And I can’t let anyone make me feel like that’s wrong.”
Maddie’s eyes glossed, her mouth a thin, trembling line. She didn’t argue or defend herself, just nodded, like she finally understood.
Buck sat there, pulse still racing. It felt like something had cracked open. He wasn’t sure if the ache was relief or rawness, or both. He’d carried this weight alone for so long he hadn’t realized how deep it cut. Saying it left him exposed, but lighter too, like loosening a bandage wrapped too tight.
Across from him, Maddie blinked through the sheen in her eyes. She looked at him like she was really seeing him, not the little brother to protect, not the screwup to worry over, but him.
“Can I… can I have a hug?” she asked, voice breaking.
His throat tightened for a different reason. He nodded, pushing up from the chair, and let her fold him into her arms.
They stood there a moment, holding on, the years of distance pressed between them, but not keeping them apart. For the first time in a long while, Buck didn’t feel like he had to carry it alone.
When they pulled away, Maddie looked up, eyes damp, voice soft. “What happens now?”
Buck let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I don’t want to lose you, Maddie… but things have to be different.”
She nodded quickly, almost desperate. “I want to fix this.”
“I do too,” he said, gaze sliding back to Tommy, pale but steady beneath the monitors. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand. “But right now, my focus has to be on him.”
Maddie followed his look, her expression softening. “Then that’s where it’ll be. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
She sank into the chair beside him. For a few minutes, they just sat, watching the rise and fall of Tommy’s chest. It was quieter than the words they’d just spilled, but not empty.
Buck found himself talking before he realized it, voice low and steady. He told her what had happened, the fire, the surgeries, the cautious optimism from the doctors. Maddie listened, open and quiet, her eyes flicking to Tommy with something close to awe.
When his words finally tapered off, she filled the quiet with her own—updates about the kids, small ordinary things that tugged at Buck’s chest and anchored him to life beyond the hospital walls.
Eventually, Maddie stood, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I should go, let you have some quiet. But… thank you. For letting me be here.”
Buck nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Thanks for coming.”
At the door, she hesitated. “I know you and Chim have things to work out,” she said softly. “But I’m staying out of it this time. That’s between you two.”
For the first time in months, Buck felt like they might be on the same side. “I appreciate it,” he said quietly.
Maddie gave a small nod, then turned toward Tommy. “You get better, Tommy. I expect you to be awake next time I see you.” Her voice wavered just slightly before she slipped out, leaving Buck alone with him again.
The door clicked shut, and the room went still. Buck sank back into the chair, reaching for Tommy’s hand like a grounding line. His thumb brushed absently across his knuckles.
“Well,” he murmured, soft, “that was Maddie. She came to see you.” A shaky laugh escaped. “Guess you’re bringing us back together without even trying. Figures you’d manage that flat on your back.”
His throat tightened. “She wants to fix things. I do too. But, Tommy…” He squeezed his hand, leaning closer. “I need you to wake up, okay? I can’t do this without you. Not any of it.”
Buck didn’t know how long he sat there, forehead resting lightly on their joined hands, breathing with the monitors. The machines spoke for Tommy when he couldn’t, each beep and hiss reminding Buck he was still here, still fighting.
The door eased open. Buck braced for the nurses, but instead Mel stepped inside, gentle but firm. “Buck,” she said softly, “it’s time to go. You need some rest.”
He nodded reluctantly, tightening his hold once more. “You heard her,” he whispered. “Can’t argue with Mel. I wouldn’t put it past her to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.”
Mel’s mouth curved. “You’re right. I would.”
Buck stood and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised, his voice catching.
Only then did he let go, letting Mel guide him toward the door, each step pulling him reluctantly into the hallway.
Notes:
So sorry for the delay, I had hoped to get this one out over the weekend, but life has been lifing these days! You all blow me away with your love, comments and reactions to this story, I am truly speechless and grateful that you are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it!
I am hoping to get a few chapters done this week/weekend, September is a crazy month, its my birthday and I am off to Europe for 2 weeks so want to get a head so I don't fall too far behind!
The plot thickens, but so much still to come! I hope you enjoyed this one and as always love to hear your thoughts!
xo
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