Work Text:
“You got the–”
“Yes.”
“And the–”
“Mmhm,” Eddie says, slamming the trunk shut before winding around toward the driver’s side door.
When he hops in, Buck hasn’t stopped, leaning in his own seat across the middle console.
“What about–”
“Buck,” Eddie reaches out, takes Buck’s hand and offers it a gentle squeeze. It’s hard to stop him, knowing how much he’s been looking forward to this. Probably – definitely – more than Chris. “We’ve got everything we need. If there’s something else, I’m sure the floating lab thing will have it.”
“Marine Science Floating Lab,” Buck says, shuffling back to his own seat and clicking the belt in place.
“MSFL,” Chris mutters from the backseat, eyes locked on the game in his hands. Something pings and he smiles in celebration before shifting his focus again to what must be the next round.
“That’s right,” Buck says, grin wide and bright, pride crinkling his features even over something as small as that.
It’s adorable, Eddie thinks not for the first time, and damn if he isn’t getting giddy about the field trip through osmosis – Buck’s eager energy circling the car like wildfire.
After that, the drive becomes a slew of fun facts, half-hearted agreement from the backseat, and the simmering excitement as they get closer to the harbor.
Christopher mentioned the field trip a few months ago, saying he needed permission and that they were also begging for chaperones – that it sounded like something Buck would like. It didn’t take more than a glance for Eddie to find Buck’s eyes shining, pleading without words.
It was the first time Christopher asked Buck to be a chaperone since he, Eddie, and Tommy had become something – there’d been times Eddie had second thoughts, fears pulling up old guilt and painful memories.
The loss of Shannon still heavy on his heart most days, the dread at the thought of losing love like that again.
But every time something like that happened – Chris asking Tommy to teach him how to change the oil in a car, Chris asking Buck to teach him how to cook, movie nights and family dinners and the solidness of something profound – it reminded Eddie why the risk was worth it.
Now they’ve been together a couple of years – not easy, by any stretch of the imagination – but real. And that moment is one that’ll stick with Eddie for a long time. Forever, if he’s honest.
Pulling up to the lab on water thing – MSFL, he guesses – Eddie can’t hide the smile on his face as Chris and Buck look out at the water and gasp. It’s big – the cruise will be three hours long and full of birds, sea lions, and other marine mammals that may be in the area, according to Buck.
The best part is it’s right on L.A. Harbor, so they’ll be able to drop by the 217 after the field trip and bring Tommy lunch during his shift.
Eddie and his boys, not much that can make a day better than that.
They shuffle towards the entrance, Buck helping Chris get situated with his crutches and Eddie tugging things from the trunk – jackets, extra socks, Christoher’s wheelchair. They’ve been told there’ll be accommodations, but it’s always good to have the backup.
By the time they make it in, there’s a collection of teenagers already milling around, girls taking selfies along the railing, boys acting disinterested slumped in chairs nearby.
This’ll be fun, Eddie thinks, with that dry bite Tommy always has.
“Ed,” Buck says, nudging his shoulder. “There’s a-a spot over here I think we can put stuff.”
Eddie follows his eyeline, tracing to the back of the room near a wall lined with lockers and hooks, backpacks and jackets already slung up haphazardly.
Chris heads towards a group of girls that call out his name and smile sweetly when they see him coming. Eddie holds back an eye roll, “If that isn’t proof of your influence…”
“Hey!” Buck says with no real heat behind it. “He was a ladies’ man before you and I kissed.”
Eddie laughs and tucks their belongings into an empty locker. He keeps the wheelchair close by, at the ready. “So we’ve discussed.”
Buck pinches his side and he elbows him back before turning and planting a kiss on Buck’s lips. It’s soft, chaste, and so normal it twists something in Eddie’s chest. He longed for something like this – this ease, comfort, familiarity, support – and now that he’s found it again, it’s hard not to get sentimental every time they collide.
“Alright, everyone, listen up!” A woman moves to the front of the group donning a hi-visibility vest, neon yellow swaying in the breeze streaming in from the ocean.
She’s short, can’t be more than five feet tall, but she doesn’t act like it. Her voice booms across the broad room with enough force to startle some fifty kids into silence. Her bright red hair is pulled back in a tight bun and she’s not wearing any makeup. All business.
“We’re going to get started,” she shouts. “We’re splitting into groups of ten and each group will have a chaperone and an educator from the MSFL. Don’t be rude to the chaperones or the staff, pay attention because your teachers are going to ask you questions about what you’re learning here today!”
A couple of kids snort, there’s a few stray glances across the room as students lock eyes, but generally they’re fine – Eddie would much rather deal with annoying teenagers than half the patients they come across any given shift.
There’s a group of parents circled around Buck and Eddie and a teacher comes by, leaning in to tell them their group assignments. She presses her hand to Eddie’s shoulder and nods to Buck. “We’ll have one of you with Christopher so you can hang onto the chair?”
Buck nods and smiles, “I’ll go with his group.”
Eddie knew that was coming, trades the wheelchair for another kiss and follows other parents to his group of ten. There’s a couple of boys but it’s mostly a girls that are calling themselves The Coven, wrapped in black and talking about astrology and its connection to the water.
Whatever that means.
They start in a Water Quality Studies room, right near the front of the ship, tucked next to the captain and his crew. Eddie pays attention for the most part, but his thoughts swim back to Chris and Buck often, picturing them bent over the rail or pressed against the glass in another room, eyes searching, brains thirsty for knowledge.
It’s during one of these musings, when he’s distracted, head in the clouds – or under the water – that the boat slams into something, pitching the group wildly across the room.
Eddie’s shoulder collides with a railing hard when he wraps around a teenager in the scuffle, tucking himself between the kid and the wall.
There’s another jolt and an alarm sounds, the captain’s voice sharp and insistent over the radio.
“Attention! Attention! Do not panic! Put on your life jackets now! Move to the muster station! Get to the upper deck!”
Eddie’s chest tightens, terror creeping through his veins like ice. Chris and Buck are on the lower deck of the boat, separated from Eddie.
No.
Eddie stops himself before he can spiral. He can’t panic thinking about them right now. Buck can take care of Chris, he’s done more with a hell of a lot less. And Eddie’s got ten kids to manage on his own. He glances around the room and sees wide, terrified eyes, squeals and panic skittering through the crowd.
“It’s okay, let’s follow his instructions,” Eddie shouts as the instructor reaches for the life jackets and starts handing them out to the kids.
“Everyone put on your life jacket,” Eddie tells them, leaving his own for last. He straps a couple of the kids in and guides them out of the room to the narrow hallway that leads to the muster station on the deck.
As they make their way, the instructor keeps glancing back at the bridge, worry filling her features.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks as the last of the kids start to shimmy their way ahead, life jackets tucked up around their ears.
“Normally there’d be more crew coming out to help,” she mutters. “Nobody’s come off the bridge yet.”
“I’ll check on them,” Eddie tells her, pointing toward the deck. “I’m with the L.A.F.D. You take the kids and I’ll make sure they’re okay.”
She nods vigorously and guides the group ahead and Eddie doubles back, fist pounding on the door of the wheelhouse. “Everything okay in there?” He shouts, “I’m a firefighter, I can help!”
Static crackles through the loudspeaker and someone slams their knuckles against the door on the other side.
The words that come through send Eddie’s stomach sinking.
“The hull’s taking on water and we’re trapped!”
*
*
Between the voice of the captain and the alarms blaring through the speaker, Buck can barely keep track of the chaos. Students are lined up at the muster station, Chris deposited in his wheelchair as the MSFL staff shout instructions.
Neon orange wraps around necks where teenagers heads pop through life jackets like scattered weeds. Parents are counting them, the teacher shouting from a list to ensure each one is there, but Buck’s eyes scan the crowd for one particular chaperone.
One that’s notably missing.
Buck’s used to the threat of firefighting, used to running into danger when everyone else runs out. But this is different – he’s not working, wasn’t prepared for something like this. His guard was down, beyond excited to be with Chris on a field trip along the ocean harbor.
He got so comfortable he forgot about his notoriously bad luck.
“Where’s dad?” Chris asks, mouth tilting into a frown. “Can you see him?”
“Not yet, bud. I’m sure he’s making sure all your classmates are up here first.”
Buck prays it’s true, hopes Eddie’s just got some straggler that’s too anxious to move. That he’s using his calm, measured patience to help them make it through and get to the lifeboat.
The MSFL doesn’t stray far from the shore, but it heads out more than a few miles. Certainly not something a bunch of teenagers can swim, not if they’re–
The boat creaks and groans, tilting again and heaving the group across the deck. It’s enough to send Buck backwards, head colliding with the glass panel of a door that leads inside.
Chris’ brakes are on, so he barely moves, but his arm gets pinned at his side, the pressure enough to make him shout in pain.
Teens are grumbling and getting back to their feet, wincing against what are sure to be some pretty gnarly bruises. Buck shakes his head, pain lancing through the back of his skull.
Trying to right-size himself, he pulls on the handle behind him and starts to get to his feet. He doesn’t have a chance, though, before the boat shakes again and there’s another mayday shouted through the speaker.
“Abandon ship! Abandon ship! We’re taking on water. Follow instructions and secure positions in life rafts. Mayday called for support.”
Shuffling kids become swarms, adults lifting and collecting them between the life rafts off the edge on the back of the boat. Buck’s heart is thrumming against his ribs, eyes locked on Chris, focused on him so he doesn’t think about Eddie and where the hell he could possibly be.
Chris needs him. Eddie is capable.
There’s another pitch and the waves rip through the railings, sending water up the deck. Chris’ chair slips on the water, gliding away from Buck and toward the opposite railing.
Buck lunges, pulling the chair back. It spins and pins him against the railing at his back. His chest is burning; his head is throbbing. Chris is curled in on himself, wrapped around his arm protectively.
Acting on instinct, Buck drives the chair forward, using all of his energy as the boat shifts and tilts, water slicking up the boards, ocean air thrashing them against the current.
There’s another person, latched onto the lifeboat ahead, that reaches for them. Buck shoves the chair forward, ensuring they have a solid grip on Christopher before he moves again.
It’s jarring, being on solid ground that shifts beneath his feet, the waves never ceasing, the water swallowing them whole. Buck doesn’t stop to glance around, doesn’t let his mind wander.
He locks into the parts of his brain that know chaos like a familiar blanket, turns off the emotion that threatens to overtake him, focuses on getting them all aboard the rafts, making sure nobody loses a kid they sent out on a field trip today.
For Chris.
That’s what he can do for Eddie.
“Get him in,” Buck shouts. “Make sure he’s safe!”
“I’ve got him,” another parent – Paul, he thinks? – calls back. True to his word, he grabs Chris and settles him between a set of adults in the middle of the raft. Buck hands over his crutches, waits to bring the wheelchair in case they don’t have the space.
It feels too familiar, the sight of Chris drenched head to toe, trapped in the unending waves of the water, drifting between fear and pain. Buck’s mind shifts between Chris, almost a decade before, curled against his chest as he pulled him on top of a ladder truck, and Chris now, so grown up but still so young.
Nausea circles Buck’s gut and he can’t be sure if it’s the head injury, the swirling memories, or the worsening tilt of the boat that drives it.
Between the heaving waves and the scattered shouts from the students, Buck looks back at the deck, eyes scanning for anyone left behind. There’s one other chaperone heaving himself over the railing and onto another lifeboat.
Buck’s about to do the same when the boat tips again, mercilessly, and sends him flying. The center ridge of the boat starts to crumble, wood splintering and driving the back end towards the waves. The life rafts quickly detach themselves, floating away from the falling vessel.
The last thing Buck hears before he’s pulled under the waves is Christopher’s voice, shouting his name, and the desperate calls in his mind for Eddie to be safe on another raft he didn’t catch. And that Tommy isn’t alone when he hears the news.
*
*
“I don’t care about him,” Teddy, one of Tommy’s aeromedics, chuckles, swiping to the next picture on Tommy’s phone, skipping past the one of Evan beaming with the ocean at his back.
“I do,” Tommy mutters, slamming the mechanical panel shut and wiping his oil-slick hands on a rag tossed over his shoulder.
“No, this is much more interesting,” Eve, Teddy’s partner, smiles when she plucks the phone from Teddy’s hand. She spins it around with the screen pointing at Tommy and he can’t help but smile.
Chris is in front of a window in the belly of the boat, ocean sprawled behind him, smiling so hard his eyes are shut, pointing at an otter swimming by.
“What a cool field trip,” Teddy muses, leaning back against the skids, eyes drifting to the water outside of the station. “Wanna show up and surprise them?”
Eve jumps up next to Teddy and nods, “Can we please?”
Tommy shakes his head, despite everything in his body pushing him to go. “I think I’ve hit my limit with unapproved helicopter loans.”
“But this would be close to us,” Teddy whines dramatically.
“And! And!” Eve pipes in, “Educational purposes and all that.”
Tommy chuckles and tosses the rag back to the workbench, nodding toward the lounge. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, don’t take that while I’m gone.”
“Killjoy,” Teddy mutters.
“Fine, dad,” Eve adds. “We’ll be good.”
“Pinky promise,” Teddy winks.
He doesn’t trust them as far as he can throw them when it comes to shit like this, but at least Tommy knows they can’t actually pilot the thing. His chopper is safe – for now.
Sinking into the couch after scrubbing dirt and oil from his hands, Tommy scrolls through the pictures again. One of Evan. Eddie, and Chris in front of the boat on the dock. One of Evan and Eddie, leaning against the railing on the deck. There’s at least five more of Chris, each with its own fun fact tacked on courtesy of Evan.
Each one feels like home, each a little piece of them Tommy can’t pull away from even if he tries.
And lord knows he’s tried.
The tendency to run when things got tough didn’t improve with age, unfortunately. That was a skill baked into his blood and scorched into his bones through the Army, the L.A.F.D., coming out.
Eddie’s guilt claws up his spine every time something goes awry, Evan feels bereft each time they go through something tough, the frequent reminder they aren’t going anywhere is necessary for all of them. As they’ve built this relationship, the bricks have been formed in these reminders and others. With the pain comes new beauty, new appreciation, better ways to be there for one another.
It’s gotten easier, with time. Pictures, love shared through the screen and outside of it, are good reminders of how far they’ve come together. How much it’s all been worth it.
Tommy shoots off a message telling Evan and Eddie that Teddy and Eve are moments away from snatching a helicopter to join the field trip themselves and that they should seek shelter.
As soon as the familiar swoosh delivers the message, the klaxon rings and dispatch squawks through the radio.
“Air Operations, medical and operational support needed for sinking boat. Over fifty casualties, boarded life rafts, minor to moderate injuries.”
Tommy sprints to the helicopter, one ear latched onto the radio, the other listening to Teddy and Eve’s commands, reaching a plan together.
The three of them hop into Fire One and head toward the coordinates given. As soon as they’re in the air, Tommy’s hit with the reminder of where exactly everyone he loves is at this very moment.
“Guys,” Tommy says through the headset. “Do we know the name of the boat? Did dispatch give more details?”
Tommy catches the pair of them sharing a look, then glancing back at him.
“Yeah, T,” Eve says heavily. “It’s the MSFL.”
Tommy swallows a knot that’s been slowly climbing his throat since he asked the question, jaw tightening with the realization.
“Is everyone accounted for, dispatch?” Tommy asks through the headset.
Josh is on the other end, voice tight. “Negative, Fire One. There are still five missing. All children accounted for.”
That means Chris is safe.
“Josh–” Tommy starts.
“I know,” Josh replies.
Tommy’s circling toward the wreck, a rescue boat not far behind along the shore. It’s massive, prepared with medical equipment and a group of specialized medics, crew that’s been trained for these exact scenarios.
The knowledge of that doesn’t stop the anxiety coiled in his chest, doesn’t slow the simmering fear that’s sitting at the base of his spine. Muscles tight with tension, he steers ahead.
They spot it easily, a collection of bright yellow rafts, swaying and bobbing away from land and further out to sea. Half of the ship is above the water, half below, splintering wood and shards of metal and glass branching out into the ocean.
“Fire One has arrived, life rafts found.” Tommy calls out through the radio.
There’s chatter back, information on E.T.A. of the rescue ship, additional units and backup enroute.
Tommy barely hears it, eyes scanning the crowds below, seeking familiar curls, crutches, glasses, the tight line of broad shoulders and the clothes they’re wearing in the pictures they sent.
He spots a group before he finds who he’s looking for, bright crimson flashing against the yellow.
Blood.
“Tommy,” Eve shouts, pointing at the group. “Right there.”
“Got it,” he yells, pulling the cyclic to get them overhead. Teddy’s preparing his harness, Eve double-checking each knot, calls for safety confirmed between them.
They work fast, trying to get to the most critically wounded first, see how much they can support before additional rescue arrives.
Triage. Tommy reminds himself of that over and over.
It does nothing to help.
Teddy drops and Tommy keeps them steady, eyes focused ahead.
“We’ve got an open tib-fib fracture,” Teddy calls through the radio. “Vitals are good, distal pulse is strong. Splinting now.”
“Any other injuries?” Tommy asks. “Any familiar faces on the raft with you?”
“Negative,” Teddy says. “To both.”
The knot is back, spreading from Tommy’s throat to his chest, circling his gut, creeping up his spine.
Feeling Eve’s eyes on the back of his head, Tommy says, “I’m sure they’re fine.”
“There’s six boats,” Eve says, “And that’s the only blood I can see. I’m sure you’re right.”
It should help. He trusts Eve and Teddy with his life – when it matters. They know what they’re doing, what they’re talking about. Still, there’s reported missing, they’re the first on scene, and he can’t do anything else to help.
“We’re ready to ride,” Teddy calls from below. Eve hauls them up and helps them inside, turning on her charm while Teddy does the same. They keep everyone that boards their chopper calm, no matter the circumstance. Tommy only wishes this time it worked on him.
They’re hovering as another helicopter arrives, and Tommy exhales, if only a little. Just when they do, there’s a ripple below and the water shifts, someone emerging from the depths with a ragged inhale and flailing arms.
“Fire One to Fire Seven, do you copy?” Tommy calls out to the other bird.
“We copy, Fire One go ahead,” he knows the pilot on the other end – Brad Johnson, another that’s worked with him at Harbor in the past.
“Person came up from the water, not on a raft, do you see them?”
“Copy, medics completing safety checks and planning to repel.”
“Dispatch, additional casualty broke the surface, reduce missing by one.”
“Copy, Fire One.”
“Fire Seven pulling them up now,” he informs them, keeping his eyes locked on the medic descending to the water.
The line pulls and the medic reaches for the victim, arms outstretched. They reach back – alive, thank God – and latch onto him. Once they’re connected, the rope retracts and Tommy tries to get a good look at the–
It’s Evan.
His eyes are closed and he’s limp, but he just saw him, seconds before, reaching, clawing, alive.
He has to be alive.
So distracted by the sight of one of the men he loves so pale, Tommy barely registers the voice of Teddy through the headset.
“Marine Rescue Two on scene,” he says.
More than a minute passes before he pushes.
“Kinard – we need to get to the rescue boat.”
“Uh, yeah, we…diverting to rescue boat now.” His voice is tight, distant, he wants nothing more than to turn around and jump out of his own damn helicopter to get to Evan, but he can’t.
Focusing on the ocean ahead, he drives toward the helipad on the ship, hovering and dropping steadily.
When he lands, he calls out through the radio, “Fire Seven, how’s your passenger?”
“Copy, Fire One, alive and well. Bringing in now,” Brad calls back. “Says a Christopher is safe aboard a raft, wants you to know.”
Tommy exhales, tears burning at the back of his eyes, relief flooding through him before he realizes.
“Anything about Eddie Diaz?” he asks, heart racing.
Before Brad can answer, the radio pitches, harsh static ringing through the line. The blades of Fire Seven roar above, circling Marine Rescue Two to land.
Tommy doesn’t wait, sprinting toward the other end of the boat, desperate to see Evan, touch him, make sure Chris has been picked up and is heading this way.
Just when they land, word comes through the radio that the rafts have all been deboarded, another boat bringing the survivors to Marine Rescue Two now. Evan stumbles out of the helicopter and Tommy rushes forward, wrapping his arms around him, tugging him close.
“To-Tommy,” Evan says, teeth chattering. He’s wrapped in a warming blanket, sopping wet, but he’s breathing and conscious, and in Tommy’s arms.
“Evan, you’re okay,” Tommy soothes. “I’ve got you.”
“Ch-Christopher,” he says, latching onto Tommy’s shoulders and trying to heave himself up. Tommy doesn’t let him, settles him back on the skid to look him over himself. The aeromedics are still monitoring vitals, a bag of what’s probably warm saline dripping into Evan’s veins.
He still looks so cold and pale, and Tommy doesn’t even know what happened, focused only on making sure he’s okay.
“He’s on his way to the ship now,” Tommy tells him, brushing fingers through Evan’s curls. “Was Eddie with him?”
Evan’s head snaps up, eyes widening, he stands and rushes forward, abandoning the warming blanket and tugging the IV line.
“Evan, hey,” Tommy stops him, firmly grabs his arms and steadies him back. “What’s wrong?”
“E-Eddie,” he says, “He – I didn’t see him. To-Tommy, I-I don’t…is he okay?”
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is MSFL Captain Roberts. Me and three others are trapped in the wheelhouse, unable to breach door. Water level rising steadily.”
The calls comes through harsh, static between the words, crackling with the fear. Evan’s eyes lock onto Tommy’s and he stops him before he can start.
“You’re not,” Tommy says, already jogging back toward Fire One. Teddy and Eve are jumping into the cabin, waving him over.
“I’m coming,” Evan says behind him, harsh cough snapping from his chest.
“You have to get looked over, warm up,” Tommy says. “And make sure Chris is okay.”
“You’re not leaving me behind,” Evan demands, reaching out for Tommy and grabbing his shoulder. “You’re flying, I’m going in.”
“Like hell you are,” Tommy responds. “Please don’t make me worry about you both.”
Evan almost gives, then, but he resists, straightening his shoulders and reaching for the handle of the helicopter, no fear in his eyes.
“There’s four of them. You need the help.”
“Let him in,” Teddy shouts. “We’ve gotta go and he’s not gonna back down.”
Tommy gives one last pleading stare before demanding, “My chopper, my rules. You come, you come back when I say. Got it?”
“We’re gonna get them out,” Evan says instead of responding to the question. Tommy won’t let him off the hook that easy.
“Got it?”
“Yeah,” Evan says when they finally climb in, helmet fitted over his ears, straps buckled tight. “I got it.”
It doesn’t take long to get back to the site, while they were heading over Teddy and Evan getting strapped in and preparing to descend and assist. Another boat is circling back to help below, but they’re hardly fast enough.
The captain’s been giving updates on the radio, the waterline reaching their ribs.
They know Eddie’s inside, now, he was able to get through the door when a lever got stuck with the help of the crew but when the boat tilted and shifted again, the door bent and won’t budge.
There’s another emergency hatch above but they can’t access it from the right angle.
The goal for Teddy and Evan is to get to that hatch and pull them all free. Simple enough.
At least that’s what Tommy tells himself.
The reality is a lot worse, the emergency hatch being jammed behind a broken metal plate from the other half of the boat, the angle of the wave it caught shoving the metal across the hull and jamming it in place.
Teddy and Evan have to adapt, instead opting for a panel of glass across the bridge, already splintered and cracking along the seam.
Tommy only knows what comes through the static, and between his hammering heart and the roar of the engine, he’s struggling to keep it straight.
He hovers, keeping his mind distant from his body, running on muscle memory and years of training, eyes ahead, jaw tight, breathing steady.
Eve’s prepared in the back, gauze, fluids, splints at the ready. Tommy hopes they don’t need any of it.
It takes every bit of effort, every happy memory pushing him ahead – days at the beach with Evan pushing Eddie into the ocean when he’s not looking, nights tucked under the stars in the backyard, basketball games, muay thai, movies, concerts, every part of the best pieces of them – firing back at the fear.
Until finally, he hears it.
“We’ve got ‘em,” Teddy shouts. “Four accounted for, no life-threatening injuries.”
Risking a glance, Tommy sees them, six bodies bobbing along the surface. Evan’s got someone tucked against his side, and it must be Eddie, chestnut hair shining against the sun.
A support boat circles and pulls in two of the men while Evan and Teddy prepare to be lifted.
“Two souls boarded,” the captain of the support boat confirms as the pair start to rise.
Tommy can feel the weight lifting off his chest the closer Evan and Eddie get to him. Relief spilling in slowly, steadily, breath still trapped in a straw.
“Copy,” Tommy says before he hears the slew of voices and celebrations at his back, the clunk of the door falling into place.
Teddy calls out over the radio, “Four souls boarded Fire One.”
“Copy Fire One,” Josh says back, exhaling. “All MSFL passengers accounted for.”
“Tommy,” Evan says when he gets the headset back in place. “Eddie’s okay. I’m okay.”
Tommy can only nod, tears threatening to spill. He can’t lose it now, he has to make it safely back to the ship, make sure Christopher is okay, make sure they all are.
It feels like it takes a lifetime, but they finally get back to Marine Rescue Two and Tommy jumps out as soon as the blades stop, desperate to get his hands on Evan and Eddie.
It’s only two steps before they’re colliding, wrapped around one another so tightly, he feels like he can barely breathe. It doesn’t matter, though, it still doesn’t feel close enough.
When they part, Eddie kisses Tommy and leans back with a grin. “Feels a little familiar, being on a boat like this.”
Tommy’s mind floods with more fond memories – a time not too long ago where they pulled Bobby and Athena back from turmoil and found themselves in a different kind of collision.
“Let’s not make it a tradition,” Evan says, shivering with the breeze.
Tommy pulls away and pushes them gently ahead, guiding them toward a pack of paramedics in the triage tents.
“Come on, let’s find Chris,” he says. “And make sure you’re both actually okay and not just okay by the 118 standards.”
As soon as they get there, they see him. Christopher is under a triage tent, eyes bright with relief, smile on his face – in the yellow section, which gets Tommy’s heart racing again.
“What’s wrong, mijo?” Eddie asks, rushing up and kneeling, fingers brushing over skin. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I just hurt my arm, but they said it’s not broken.”
“That’s good, how are you feeling?” Evan asks, reaching out from the other side.
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he says with a small shrug, but Tommy can see the hints of pain where he’s trying to hide it.
Tommy finally lets the tears fall, the entirety of his world together again, even if a little worse for wear, safe. Where they need to be, with him.
A medic comes over and takes one look at Eddie and Evan and pulls them each onto a cot. A hug is shared with Chris before Tommy settles into a chair between both beds, tears still steadily streaming down his cheeks.
Eddie reaches out and tugs Tommy’s hand into his own, Evan latches onto his forearm and takes his other hand, gently brushing the tears away.
Tommy’s reminded, once more, that suffering ends and brightness shines through over and over again.
And every single time, if this is what he gets on the other side, it’s always worth it.