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This isn't happening.
That's all Buck can think as he looks around the dimly lit room. The lights flicker and buzz overhead. Then his eyes land on Tommy, chained up in a chair across from him, his head bowed and eyes closed, and Buck forces himself to take a breath.
This can't be happening.
But it is.
He still doesn’t understand why. He's tried to work it out ever since he first woke up in this room, empty aside from him and Tommy and a table in the middle of it right between them, full of various tools and weapons.
“Use them wisely if you want to live,” a voice had said overhead.
But how? He's chained up, too. Is this some sort of test to see if he can break free? But it couldn't be that easy.
He sighs and clears his throat. “Tommy.” No response. Tommy's head is still bowed. He hasn't moved since Buck woke up, which was about half an hour ago. He would worry that he was already dead if he hadn't seen Tommy's chest rise and fall. He really needs him awake. “Tommy!” he says louder.
Tommy groans and lifts his head, his eyes blinking open. Buck watches as his gaze drifts around the room, furrowing when they take in the table between them, before landing on Buck. They widen as he fights against his chains to get free. “Evan? What the hell is this? Are you hurt?”
“Not as far as I can tell,” Buck says, sounding far calmer than he feels. If he's honest, his wrists sting a little from where they've been rubbing against the chains, but he doesn't say as much. “As far as what's going on? I have no idea. I've been trying to work it out since I woke up. There was a voice that said to use the tools wisely if we want to live, but I don't know what we're supposed to do with them.”
Tommy frowns. “If we want to live? Sounds ominous.”
“Yeah,” Buck says. “I thought maybe it was a test to see if we could get free, but that seems too simple.”
“Right you are,” the voice from before says. “It's so much more than that.”
“Who are you?” Tommy asks. “What do you want?”
“For you understand what it's like to have something taken from you,” the voice says.
“Well, that's cryptic,” Buck mutters.
“You call yourselves heroes, but you're not,” the voice says. “You're supposed to save people, but you don't. You let them die while you just stand by and watch. Well, now you're going to know what it's like to feel helpless as someone you care about is in pain. To know that you're the one who caused it.”
Buck frowns and looks over at Tommy. He looks just as uneasy as Buck feels. “I take it from the way you're talking that you lost someone,” Tommy says. “I'm sorry.”
“Liar,” someone hisses from the corner of the room. They step into the light, but their face is hidden by a mask. Figures. “You're not sorry. Not yet. But you will be.”
“I know you're upset,” Buck says. “But hurting us isn't going to fix anything.”
Their captor laughs. “Oh, I'm not going to hurt you. You're going to do that for me, Evan Buckley.”
“What— what do you mean?” Buck asks them. He has a feeling, but he's hoping he's wrong.
The person gestures at the tools and weapons on the table. “What did you think these were for?
Use them wisely if you want to live.
Buck swallows and shakes his head. “No.”
“No?” they question. “You say that as if you have a choice.”
“There's always a choice,” Buck says.
“Perhaps,” their captor says. “But I don't think you'll like the alternative.”
“And what's that?” Tommy asks them.
“I can just kill you both right now,” their captor shrugs. “But where's the fun in that? You can live, but in order to make it out of here, one of you is going to have to suffer at the hands of the other, and then live with that after. You'll have to look him in the eye and know you're the reason for his suffering.”
No, Buck thinks. No, no, no.
He looks across the room at Tommy and shakes his head. They can't do this. But if they don't… Tommy smiles sadly. “It's okay, Evan,” Tommy says. “You do what you have to do.”
And there it is. Because he's already decided he's going to be the one who's hurt. As if there was never any other option.
Buck shakes his head. “Tommy…”
“No?” the person says. “Perhaps you just need a little convincing.” They grab a long knife from the table and walk towards Tommy. They stop behind him and grab him by the hair, yank his head back, and put the knife to his throat. “You do it, or I slit his throat right now, and you have to watch him bleed out knowing you could have stopped it.”
Buck's blood simmers with fear, but also with white-hot rage. How dare this person kidnap them and tell him he has to hurt Tommy? And that if he doesn't, they're going to kill him. No, both of them. How dare they?
“And before you think of trying anything funny and coming for me, I'll be out of the room before you even leave the chair,” the person says.
And yeah, Buck had been wondering how quickly he could get across the room and knock them out. Their captor is many things, but they're apparently not stupid.
“Just do it, Evan,” Tommy says.
Buck might be a little mad at Tommy at this moment, too. Because he knows if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't have an easy time with this either. But he pushes it down.
“Doesn't part of you want to hurt him?” the person asks him. “For all the pain and heartbreak he caused you? Doesn't part of you think he deserves it?”
Buck shakes his head. “No.”
And it's the truth. He may have been upset and mad at Tommy after the break-up, but they've gotten past that. Things are good now. Better than good. At least they were, until this.
He meets Tommy's gaze, and Tommy smiles, something soft and sad. He grimaces when the blade digs deeper into his skin. “Clock is ticking,” their captor mutters.
He doesn't want to hurt Tommy. That's the last thing he wants, but he can't let him die either.
“Fine,” Buck says. “I'll do it.” He eyes the tools on the table and tries to find the one that would do the least damage. None of them are ideal. He looks back at their captor. “Do I have to use a weapon?”
The person raises an eyebrow. “Fists are a weapon all of their own, and also deeply personal. Are you sure?”
“I'm sure,” Buck says. Because it'll give him better control of the pain he causes, hopefully make it hurt a little less, for both of them.
The person shrugs and lowers the knife. “Fine, but you better make it count. I'll be watching to see that you do.”
Of course they will. “Fine,” Buck says. He had expected as much.
Their captor leaves the room, and then he's alone with Tommy. The chains click open, and Buck jumps to his feet, rushing over to him. “Tommy!”
Tommy looks up at him. “It's okay, Evan,” Tommy says. “You do what you have to do.”
Buck shakes his head. “This isn't right.”
“I know,” Tommy says. “But you heard them. They'll kill us both if we don't. If you don't. And I would rather be beaten within an inch of my life than have anything happen to you.”
“Self-sacrificing idiot,” Buck mutters.
He looks down at the chains binding Tommy to the chair and bites his lip. His hands reach out, hovering over them, and a voice sounds overhead. “I really wouldn't do that.”
Buck doesn't want to test it. Doesn't want to touch the chains and risk triggering something. He lets his hands fall back to his sides.
“Good,” the voice says. “Now begin.”
Buck’s eyes meet Tommy’s, and the other smiles tightly. “The faster you do this, the faster we can hopefully get out of here.”
Leave it to Tommy to try to put a positive spin on the situation, even if there really isn’t one. Nothing about this situation is positive.
“Go ahead, Evan,” Tommy tells him.
He raises his chin, his face a perfect picture of calm. Buck takes a breath, then he swings, his fist connecting with Tommy's stomach. Tommy doesn't even flinch— just nods his head for Buck to go again. So he does— again and again and again. His own knuckles have reddened by now, and he can only imagine what Tommy looks like under his shirt. But he hasn't told Buck to stop, even if he has started to flinch during the more recent blows.
“I think we need to move a little further up, don't you?” their captor says.
Buck knows what they mean. He'd just been trying to avoid it. But he should have known better.
“It's okay, Evan,” Tommy says.
Buck really wishes he would stop saying that. “None of this is okay,” Buck mutters.
“Better than being dead,” Tommy says.
Buck shakes his head. But he swings out again, this time aiming for Tommy's left arm, then his shoulder. He hates this. He hates this so fucking much. Hates that he's the one who's causing Tommy to flinch in pain each time his fist makes impact now, even as he tries to hide it.
“Higher,” the voice says.
A tear slides down Buck's cheek as he meets Tommy's gaze, those blue eyes boring into his own as he nods. “Do it.”
Buck swings again, hitting his chin. He tries to soften the blow this time. Then the next.
But it's not enough. He wonders if it ever will be.
“Harder,” they say. “Make it count. Harder!”
Buck's knuckles are bleeding now. Tommy's cheeks are bruised, his lip is busted, and one eye is swelling shut. It's too much. This is too much. He can’t keep doing this.
“Please,” he chokes out.
“No,” the voice says. “You're not done yet.”
Buck takes a breath, looks at Tommy, who can barely keep his head raised. “I love you,” Tommy tells him.
Buck hates himself. He never should have agreed to this, but it had been the only way to keep Tommy alive.
“I love you,” Buck whispers. “Tommy, I don't know if I can—”
“You have to,” Tommy says. “It's—”
“Don't you fucking tell me it's okay again,” Buck snaps. “It's not! I'm hurting you! None of this is okay!”
“I know,” Tommy whispers, voice breaking slightly. “I know.”
“Hit him again,” the voice says. “And make it count. Or he dies. You both do.”
Buck glares across the room in the direction he thinks the camera is in. He doesn’t give a damn about himself, but how dare they threaten to kill Tommy after everything they’ve forced Buck to put him through?
“Evan,” Tommy whispers. Buck's gaze snaps back to him, and Tommy nods his head. “Do it.”
Buck's hands shake at his sides, but he raises them for what he hopes is the last time, and he swings, aiming for Tommy's shoulder again. The chair rocks back on two legs before toppling over backwards. Tommy doesn't move.
Buck rushes forward and drops to his knees next to him. Tommy's eyes are shut. He's not moving. “Tommy,” he whispers, reaching a hand out and brushing his fingers through his hair. “Tommy.”
Tommy doesn’t move. A buzzer sounds, and the lock clicks on the chains binding Tommy to the chair. Buck reaches out, easing him out of it and onto his back on the floor. “Tommy?”
Still nothing. Buck curses.
“I’d say congratulations on winning, but I’m sure you don’t feel like much of a winner right now,” their captor says. A door opens nearby, and a phone slides across the floor towards Buck. Buck jumps to his feet. “You have another choice here, Mr. Buckley. You can try to catch me, or you can get your boyfriend help before it’s too late. Up to you. But I think you’ve already let him down enough today, don’t you? Bye, now.”
Buck stands frozen, looking from the door to the phone. His phone, by the looks of it. Then his eyes land on Tommy, and he knows there isn’t a choice. He snatches the phone off the ground and calls 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a thankfully familiar voice says.
“Maddie,” Buck says. “Maddie, it’s Tommy. He’s hurt. He’s really hurt. I don’t know where we are, but I need— I need help.”
“Whoa, whoa, Evan,” Maddie says. “Slow down. How is Tommy hurt?”
Buck looks down at his bruised and beaten form. “I didn’t have a choice,” he chokes out. “They said they were going to kill him if I didn’t. That they’d kill us both. I couldn’t let him die, Maddie. But— but he’s hurt pretty bad.”
“Okay,” Maddie says. “You said they. Is there someone else there with you?”
“No,” Buck says. “They left. I wanted to go after them so they didn’t get away, but Tommy— I couldn't leave him. He needs help.”
“Help is coming,” Maddie says. “We were able to track your phone. It looks like you're in some warehouse outside of the city.”
“Outside of the city?” Buck questions.
“You don’t know how you got there?” Maddie asks him.
Buck shakes his head, then remembers Maddie can’t see him. “No. I was leaving work and then just blacked out. I woke up here to see Tommy tied up in a chair across the room. The same thing must have happened to him.”
“So, you were targeted,” Maddie says.
“Guess so,” Buck says. “He’s still not waking up.”
“Is he breathing?” Maddie asks him.
“Yeah,” Buck says, watching each rise and fall of his chest like a lifeline. He reaches out, pressing his fingers against his neck. “He has a pulse.”
“Good,” Maddie says. “That’s good.”
“Then why won’t he wake up?” Buck questions.
“Did he hit his head?” Maddie asks. “Have any sort of trauma?”
The memory of his fist connecting with Tommy’s face flashes across his mind, and he winces. Fuck. “Yeah, he did. He was— he was beaten pretty badly. And umm… I think he might have hit his head when the chair fell over.”
“Okay,” Maddie says. “Good to know. Do you see any blood on the ground near his head?”
Buck looks around the area and thankfully doesn't have any blood. At least not from a head injury. “No. I don’t think he’s bleeding from where he hit his head.” It felt important to clarify that because he’s certainly bleeding from other places. Possibly internally. The thought causes Buck’s panic to rise. “What if he’s bleeding internally?”
“Don’t panic, Evan,” Maddie says. “We won’t know that until he gets to the hospital. Paramedics should be arriving any time.”
She keeps talking to him, trying to keep him calm as he waits. And soon, Buck can hear the sound of sirens nearby, and then the first responders are rushing in. Buck loses track of time as he’s ushered aside and the paramedics take his place to examine Tommy. He can see them putting pieces together, taking in the state of Tommy and Buck’s own bruised and bloody knuckles. He feels sick to his stomach and lowers his head between his knees.
“Some sort of mess you’ve found yourself in, Buck.”
Buck lifts his head to see Athena standing in front of him, hands on her hips. She raises an eyebrow. “Care to explain to me what happened here?”
“Maddie didn’t tell you?” Buck asks her.
“She did,” Athena says. “At least what she could piece together. I want to hear the rest from you.”
Buck looks over at where Tommy’s being loaded onto a stretcher and feels tears sting at his eyes. “Please don’t arrest me. I need to be— I need to be with him.”
Athena’s face softens just a little, and she rests a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell me what happened on the ride to the hospital, alright? Then I’ll decide if I want to arrest you.”
So, Buck tells his story. Starting from when he first woke up in the warehouse to the end, when Athena found him. Athena, for her part, doesn’t interject. She listens, her face a cool mask as she drives them to the hospital. She leads Buck into the waiting room without saying a word and has him sit down in one of the uncomfortable seats while she goes to the desk to see what information she can find out.
“He’s still being seen,” Athena tells him, sitting next to him. “Someone will let you know when you can see him.”
“So you’re not arresting me?” Buck asks her.
“No, I’m not,” Athena says. “Sounds to me like you did what you did under duress and threat to your and Tommy’s lives. I would like to arrest whoever did this to you both. You say they were wearing a mask?”
Buck nods. “Yeah, and their voice was muffled and distorted. They were tall, though. Maybe a little shorter than me, and stocky.”
“And it sounds like they have a history with first responders, possibly the 118.”
“Yeah,” Buck says. “They knew my name and my history with Tommy.”
“So, just a little bit of stalking going on as well,” Athena says, making a note in her notebook.
“They knew when I’d be working and getting off shift,” Buck says. “They knew my schedule and Tommy’s, too. You don’t think they’ll try to come after us again, do you? Or someone else?”
“Hard to say,” Athena says. “But we’ll keep a detail with you just in case.”
Buck nods. “Thank you.”
She rests a hand on his shoulder. “We will find them, Buck. They won’t get away with this.”
Buck manages a grimace. “I know if anyone can find them, it’s you.”
“Well, they hurt people I care about,” Athena says. “I’m pretty determined.”
“And Heaven help whoever gets in her way when she’s determined.”
Buck looks over to see Bobby standing next to him. He sits and puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “You okay, kid?”
Buck shakes his head, voice breaking. “No.”
Bobby’s arm moves to wrap around his shoulders, and he pulls him in for a hug. “You’re safe now,” Bobby tells him.
“And in good hands,” Athena says. “I’m going to go get updates on the investigation. But I’m only a call away.”
She rests a hand on Bobby’s arm as she passes, and then she’s gone, leaving Buck and Bobby alone.
“Did she tell you what happened?” Buck asks him.
“Enough,” Bobby says. “Along with a few choice words about the person who took you.”
“I’m sure,” Buck says.
“Any word on Tommy?” Bobby asks him.
Buck shakes his head. “Not since we got here. They said the doctors were still with him, and they’ll let me know when I can see him.” Buck sighs. “If he wants to see me.”
“He will,” Bobby assures him. “This wasn’t your fault, Buck.”
“But I still hurt him,” Buck says.
“Not willingly,” Bobby says. He looks down at Buck’s bloody knuckles. “Have you gotten those checked out?”
“No,” Buck says. “They’re fine.”
“They don’t look fine,” Bobby says. “You should at least get them cleaned so they don’t get infected.”
“I’m not worried about that, Bobby,” Buck says. “Tommy…”
“Go get your hands checked out, Buck,” Bobby says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Or at least wash them. If someone comes with news about Tommy, I’ll come get you.”
Buck sighs and gets to his feet. “Fine. I’ll be in the bathroom if someone comes out.”
Bobby nods and purses his lips, clearly not pleased that Buck isn’t actually getting medical help, but not arguing further. He’s washing them, and that had been part of Bobby’s request. It’ll have to be good enough. Besides, he doesn’t feel like getting the same looks from the nurses that the paramedics gave him. The assumption about how his knuckles got into the state they are in. They wouldn’t be entirely wrong, though. Buck winces as the water first hits his skin. But he ignores it as he lathers his hands with soap, giving as good a scrub as he dares, and then rinses them off.
Bobby is standing outside the door when he walks out. “What is it?” Buck asks him. “Is Tommy okay?”
“They said he’s awake,” Bobby says. “He has a minor concussion and some bruised ribs, but nothing broken or major. They just want to monitor him here overnight with the concussion and said he’ll need to take some time off and have someone with him for a couple of days.”
“I’ll do it,” Buck says. “If he wants me to.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Bobby says. “He’s asking for you.”
Buck’s heart skips. “He is?”
“He is,” Bobby says. “And apparently being insufferable about it, according to his nurse, who asked if I could please send you in as quickly as possible before Tommy tries to sign himself out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that to start with?” Buck asks him.
“Because I wanted you to have all the facts first,” Bobby says. “And knew as soon as I told you that you would have taken off and not listened to anything else I had to say.”
Buck gives him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“He’s in room 105,” Bobby tells him. He hugs Buck again and steps back. “Tell Tommy I said hi, and call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” Buck says, already backing towards the doors leading into the Emergency Department. “Thanks, Bobby.”
The last thing Buck sees before he turns to enter is Bobby waving. He takes off down the hall, eyes scanning the room numbers until he sees 105. He stops outside the door and takes a deep breath before opening it and walking in.
Tommy’s resting in bed with his eyes closed when Buck walks in. Which Buck is grateful for. He doesn’t see the look of anguish on Buck’s face when he first takes him in. He’d known, of course, he’d known that it wasn’t going to be good. He’d seen him in the warehouse. Seen firsthand the mess his fists had made of him. But this is different, seeing it under the stark white of the lights here.
“Evan,” Tommy says, and it’s only then that he realizes Tommy’s eyes have opened and he’s looking right at him. So he hadn’t missed the look of anguish after all.
Buck still tries to hide it, forcing a smile onto his lips. “Tommy.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Tommy says.
Buck scoffs as he moves further into the room and collapses into the chair next to his bed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Tommy asks him.
“Try to make light of what happened,” Buck says.
“I’m not,” Tommy says flatly. “I was just— that look on your face when you first walked in.”
“I thought you were sleeping,” Buck says. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“Right,” Tommy says. “Except I should.”
“What?”
“You’re my partner, Evan,” Tommy says. “Whatever you’re feeling, I want to know. We’re supposed to share those things with each other.”
“Like you’re going to tell me exactly how you’re feeling about what happened?” Buck says, voice coming out a little harder than he intended. He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like— like that.”
“You did,” Tommy says. “And you’re right. I probably wasn’t. But I think we should acknowledge that we’re both hurting from what happened tonight. Maybe not in the same way, but we are.”
“Okay,” Buck says.
Buck reaches out for Tommy’s hand, and Tommy flinches back. It's minute, but Buck sees it all the same. He drops his hand back into his lap, looking down at the bruised and broken skin, cleaner now than before, but the evidence of what happened is still stark against his skin. He lifts his eyes back up to look at Tommy's face.
I did that, he thinks.
“I—” Buck starts to speak, but the words won't come. What is he supposed to say? What can he even say to make this right? “I'm sorry.”
It's a start, but it still doesn't feel like enough.
But Tommy frowns. “What on earth for?”
Buck's brow furrows. “What do you mean, what for? I hurt you, Tommy.”
“That's not your fault, Evan,” Tommy says. “None of this is. And I told you to do it. They would have killed us both if you hadn't.”
Buck sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I know, but I still—”
“I know,” Tommy says softly.
“You flinched,” Buck says, voice breaking slightly. “I reached for you, and you flinched. How— how do we get past this, Tommy?”
Tommy's eyes soften. He reaches out and takes Buck's hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. Knuckles that hours before had been the cause of his pain. “It won't be easy,” Tommy says. “But we will. One day at a time.”
“How?” Buck asks him. “I hurt you.”
“You did,” Tommy says. They both know there's no point in denying it. “But these hands?” He presses another kiss to his knuckles before raising their joined hands to his face. “They're also the gentlest hands I've ever known. Just like the man they belong to. I love you, Evan. That's how I know we'll get through this. I won't accept anything else. Okay?”
Buck nods. “Okay.”
When Tommy uses his grip on his hand to pull him closer, he goes willingly. Tommy's fingers find his chin, and he pulls him in, kissing him softly, reverently. The gentleness of it breaks his heart, at the same time that it works to piece it back together.
“I love you,” Buck murmurs against his lips. “So much, Tommy.”
“I know,” Tommy says.
Buck knows they have long, sometimes hard days ahead as they work to get through what happened. It won't be easy, but the things that are worth it never are. And Tommy? He's always been worth it.
SamMcCallFan Sat 06 Sep 2025 02:26PM UTC
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