Chapter Text
The energy is different at the paid fights than the junkyard.
Before, it was casual, people beating each other down for stress relief, for release, for fun.
This is for money, which automatically ups the stakes for so many.
Eddie's not here for the money though. It'll probably be nice, he won't lie; raising a kid with CP in LA is no easy feat. They do alright, with the assistance from the VA and government grants, but extra cash means he can take Chris out and do more fun things, which is something the kid deserves after everything he's been through recently.
The last year flashes before his eyes; Shannon coming back and asking for a divorce before dying, Buck getting crushed by a ladder truck, him and Chris both getting swept away in a freak tsunami, and then the lawsuit.
The fucking lawsuit.
A now-familiar rage boils up in Eddie's chest, and he shakes out his limbs, baring his teeth in relief when they call his name again.
He'd been slated for three fights tonight, and this is his last one. Sweat is rolling down his back, and his body is probably going to ache in the morning, but he can't feel any of it yet because of the adrenaline.
Not only as he already fought twice tonight, but he's also won both matches, and he doesn't feel like stopping. His limbs are still loose, there's energy still sparking through his veins, and the fury that he's been trying to expel all night is still firmly settled behind his breastbone, tendrils winding up his throat as if to choke him.
He almost feels bad for whoever he's about to climb into the ring with.
Not really, given that it's another grown ass adult who knows damn well what they're getting into, but almost.
He rolls his shoulders out, moves his head back and forth to crack his neck and hops past the fence, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as he waits for his opponent.
His mind is blank, thoughts quiet as he makes sure his muscles haven't gotten cold, and this— this is why he does it. He doesn't care about the money, or the attention. He feels no loyalty to any of these people; he just needs it all to stop.
Everything has been such a fucking mess lately, and it seems like no matter what Eddie does, it's never enough.
Everything he had to offer wasn't enough for Shannon to stay. He's not enough for Chris, given the nightmares he wakes up screaming from every couple of nights; wasn't enough for Buck, given that his best friend sued the department without a second thought, like the fact that he wouldn't be able to see or talk to him and Chris the entire time was easy, an inconsequential by-product of his choice.
Eddie's so fucking easy to leave, he gets it. That's not news to him, not a recent development by any means, but it's fine. He's got Christopher, and Eddie's never going to leave his son again, which means he has to figure out a way to deal with this wrath that fills his lungs like smoke, and fighting? Well, that's the best option he's found so far.
The crowd gets louder, jeering and booing, which Eddie can only assume means he's no longer alone in the ring.
Straightening his shoulders one last time, he pushes a deep breath out through his nose and spins on his heel, ready to face his next opponent.
Except, instead of a sweaty, gnarled grown man that Eddie expects to see, his eyes land on…
A kid.
A tall kid, sweaty from a previous fight, with wiry muscles, bruises on his knuckles and stubble dotting his jaw, but a fucking kid all the same. Eddie would bet his entire next paycheck that this boy isn't even 17 yet. He's damn sure not 18.
Still, he bounces on his feet, staring Eddie down from his side of ring, eyes narrowed like he's trying to pick Eddie apart piece by piece.
What the fuck.