Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It all happened in slow motion.

They were standing across from one another, talking in the street, next to the fire truck. Buck heard a popping sound. Then a cloud of red mist exploded from Eddie’s shoulder. 

Buck felt the droplets hit his face. It was in his mouth. A harsh, metallic taste. Like blood.

It was blood. Eddie’s blood.

Buck watched Eddie collapse to the floor, a dark red stain spreading across the asphalt beneath him. Another pop. Then Buck was on the floor too, Captain Mehta on top of him. 

He understood, suddenly. The sounds he’d heard had been gunshots.

Eddie had been shot.

Eddie’s blood was on his face, on his clothes, in his mouth.

Buck’s eyes found Eddie. He was lying in a growing pool of his own blood, reaching towards Buck. The light was fading from his eyes. Eddie, his Eddie, was dying right in front of him.

He couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let that happen.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, he felt himself move.

Buck would never really remember what happened between that moment and handing Eddie over to the ER team outside the hospital. He was there but not there, existing only to do what was needed to keep Eddie alive.

He only came back to himself when Captain Mehta asked if he was OK. It was the insanity of the question that broke through to him. How could he be OK? Nothing would ever be OK again if Eddie died. Buck couldn’t lose him. He’d never had the courage to admit it, but Eddie was his everything. His world. His love. Buck had been in love with Eddie for so long now, it was as automatic as breathing. 

How could Buck breathe if Eddie was gone?

No. It was fair to say that Buck was not OK.

Against the backdrop of the busy hospital, Buck just stood there by the fire truck, alone, willing himself to move. Trying to follow Eddie inside. 

He must have managed it, because the next thing he knew someone was crouching in front of him. A nurse. He realised he was sitting on one of the hard plastic seats in the hospital waiting area, an empty chair on either side of him. He didn’t know how he’d got there, or how long he’d been sitting there. Almost absently, Buck wondered if he should be worried about losing time like this. It probably wasn’t a good sign.

“…hurt, sir?”

Buck blinked and tried to focus. The nurse had been speaking to him but he hadn’t registered what she’d said. She seemed to be waiting for him to answer, but he’d missed the question entirely. 

“I-I’m sorry” he managed. “What did you say?”

She gave him a careful smile, like you might give to a lost child so it didn’t feel scared.

“Are you OK? Are you hurt?”

A memory hit him like a bolt of electricity.

Buck. Are you OK?

Eddie had asked him that. In the fire truck. While he’d tried to keep Eddie’s blood inside his body with nothing but his bare hands and a piece of gauze. While he could feel Eddie’s heart stuttering under his touch. Uncertain, flickering, like a flame about to go out.

It took Buck a moment to fight his way out of the memory. The nurse was still in front of him, still waiting for him to answer.

But why would he be hurt? Was he hurt? No, he’d have noticed. Surely.

“I-I’m fine. Just waiting for an update on my friend. Eddie. Eddie Diaz. Is there any news?”

The nurse smiled at him again, still careful. Trying not to spook him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any news, yet, about Eddie. He’s in good hands, though. What’s your name, sir?”

“Um… B- Evan. Buckley. Evan Buckley. But everyone calls me Buck”.

“Hi, Buck. My name is Jamie. Are you sure you’re OK? It’s just,” she paused before continuing, “you have some blood on you.”

Buck looked down. His once pale shirt was deep scarlet in places, covered in blood.

Eddie’s blood.

Dried blood was caked over Buck’s hands, mostly brown now, flaking off in places, but still red under his nails and between his fingers.

Eddie’s blood.

He remembered the warmth of the blood spatter hitting his face. He remembered it settling on him, almost like a mist. He wondered how he looked now, face covered in blood.

Eddie’s blood.

That thought echoed through his mind, again and again. 

Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood.

Eddie’s blood.

Buck could still taste it. It filled him. It covered him. It was everywhere, and it was overwhelming. He felt sick. Dizzy. His vision blurred at the edges, the colours fading to shades of grey. His ears filled with a steady buzzing. 

He gradually became aware of someone in front of him. Of words he couldn’t grasp hold of. Of hands squeezing his own. Buck blinked, trying to clear his head. The world rushed back, bright and loud. Too much. It was all too much. He was drowning in reality.

“Buck, you with me?” Jamie was kneeling now, their faces level, real concern in her voice. “I need you to breathe.”

He wanted to say he was fine. That it wasn’t him that got shot. Eddie was the one who got hurt. Eddie was the one needing help. Eddie was the one who mattered. 

Eddie was the one who mattered more than anything.

But he couldn’t find his voice. The words just wouldn't come.

And then there was someone else. Bobby was there. Sitting next to him and taking his hand. To Buck, as he fought against the fog in his head, it felt warm and solid.

It felt real.

“Buck? How're we doing?”

Bobby’s voice was warm and level. Gentle but firm. Buck recognised the tone. It was the voice Bobby had used when Eddie was missing in the well. The voice he’d used when Maddie had been taken. 

His captain’s voice. Calm and in control. It was meant to reassure, to bring comfort. 

But it didn’t, not to Buck. 

Hearing Bobby use that voice scared Buck more than anything. It meant something was seriously wrong.

“Buck. Can you look at me?”

Buck turned his head to look at Bobby, fighting against the haze in his mind.

“How you doing, kid?” Bobby asked gently.

“I-I’m OK, Bobby.” A pause. Then, quietly, “Bobby, Eddie got shot. I-I couldn’t protect him.”

“Buck, no one could have done more. Captain Mehta filled me in. You brought him to safety. You kept him alive till he got here. You saved Eddie’s life.”

Bobby drew Buck in for a hug.

“You did good, kid”.

Buck tried to focus on the words. But all he could think about was the taste of Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood was inside him. Buck hadn’t kept him safe.

“Buck?” Bobby was talking again. Buck realised he hadn’t registered what Bobby had said.

He tried to get himself under control.

“Sorry, Bobby” he managed.

“It’s OK, kid. I said let's get you cleaned up and changed. Maybe get you checked over, too.”

Buck just nodded, still unable to find the words he wanted. 

Bobby turned to Jamie.

“Is there a bathroom we could use? I think he needs a shower to get…” Bobby’s voice tightened ever so slightly, his composure finally threatening to break. “…to wash his hair.”

So there was blood in his hair, too.

Eddie’s blood.

The metallic taste in Buck's mouth got stronger. Buck fought a sudden wave of nausea that made his stomach heave. He was shaking but he couldn’t bring himself under control.

Jamie gave him a quick appraising look and then nodded at Bobby. They both stood and it took Buck a moment to realise they wanted him to stand, too, and go with them. He stood on shaky legs, Bobby’s strong hand taking his elbow to steady him. They followed Jamie down the corridor, through some double doors marked Staff Only, and into a locker room with individual shower cubicles.

“It’s for the nurses,” Jamie said. “We’re not supposed to, but we sometimes let other people use it in… specific circumstances. You’ll have to be quick.”

“Thank you,” Bobby said, voice thick with gratitude. “We’ll be as quick as possible.”

Jamie exchanged a look with Bobby that Buck saw but didn’t understand. His head was filled with static again and it was difficult to process what was going on around him. He felt unsteady and leaned heavily against the cold, tiled wall. The chill was almost nice. It cut through his shirt and t-shirt, and he could focus on that rather than the feelings in his body or the thoughts screaming through his brain. He realised he was still trembling uncontrollably. He tried to steady himself, but his brain didn’t seem in control of his body.

“Once you’re done, bring him back to the desk and I’ll check he really is alright.” Buck didn’t know who “he” was. Then he realised. Jamie was talking about him.

Bobby already had the shower running before Jamie closed the door. Buck just looked at it, unmoving.

“Come on kid” Bobby said, gently. “Let’s get you out of those clothes, showered, and into something clean. You’ll feel better.”

And that actually made Buck laugh. Bobby gave him a strange look, but Buck couldn’t help it, Because in what universe could taking a shower fix Eddie being shot? How could he feel better with the taste of blood still in his mouth?

Eddie’s blood.

Bobby was still looking at him, but Buck couldn’t talk about this right now. He needed to do something. Anything. Shower, right? OK. Buck started to struggle out of his clothes, trying to touch them as little as possible, his fingers slow and clumsy. The blood was dry now, and it made the material of his shirt stiff where the spatter had hit. While he was undressing, Buck noticed for the first time that Bobby had a duffle with him.

“I brought this in from my car,” Bobby explained, rifling through the bag. “It’s my grab bag. I was on the way in when Hen called. It should have… There. Towel, shampoo, body wash. Clean shirt and… oh… no pants, apparently.”

Bobby looked at Buck’s jeans, stained in places with red that was now fading to brown.

“I-it’s OK Bobby”, Buck said in an empty voice, surprising them both by breaking his silence. “The shirt got the worst of it. I-I can put these jeans back on.”

Once he was naked, Buck climbed under the spray and let the warm water wash over him. He watched as it turned from clear to pink to red. Washing the blood away.

Eddie’s blood.

Buck suddenly felt an overwhelming and irrational sense of loss. Eddie. His Eddie. The best friend Buck had been hiding feelings for for years. Eddie, who Buck loved with all his heart. Eddie, who Buck had never told - would never tell - about those feelings. Eddie, who had been shot. Eddie, who could be dying. Eddie, whose blood was washing away, leaving him. 

Irrationally, he wanted it back. It was his. Buck couldn’t lose any more of Eddie.

“Buck? You OK?” Bobby asked. Buck wondered why and then realised he was crying. He fought the tears, and tried to find his words again.

“Sure, Bobby”. Meaningless. Same empty voice as before. 

It was the best he could do.

Buck reached for the shampoo. The lather turned his fingers pink, and he tried not to think about why. 

He stood under the stream of water till it turned from red to pink to clear again. When he was done with the shower, he dried off with Bobby’s towel. He pulled on Bobby’s shirt- slightly too small but workable- then his own jeans. Bobby had tried to sponge off the worst but they were still stained with rust coloured spatter.

Bobby gave Buck an appraising look when he reappeared, fully dressed and clean. He wasn’t shaking as badly now, though his hands still had a definite tremor, and he seemed much more present.

“Better?” Bobby asked cautiously.

“Some” Buck replied, quiet but clear, and Bobby was relieved that he at least sounded more like himself.

“Let’s go get you checked over then.”

Buck looked like he was going to protest, but Bobby steered him by the elbow back to the nurses’ station where Jamie was waiting.

It took just a few minutes for Jamie to declare Buck mostly uninjured but, understandably, in shock. There were grazes on his palms where he’d crawled on the asphalt, under the fire truck, to reach Eddie. Nothing serious. Buck tuned everything out as Jamie cleaned his cut hands, and she and Bobby discussed him, their voices merging into a kind of soothing white noise that Buck couldn’t process.

Then Bobby was saying something. Buck heard Eddie and tried hard to focus till the noise became words again.

“Buck, did you hear me? Jamie checked and Eddie is going to be in surgery for a few more hours. We think you should go home and rest. I can stay and let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

Buck was going to protest. He wasn’t going anywhere. He suddenly realised Jamie was gone, and he and Bobby were alone together in the waiting area.

Then his phone vibrated and lit up with an incoming call.

Carla.

Automatically, he answered.

“H-hey, Carla”. His voice still sounded like it belonged to someone else. 

“Buckaroo, thank goodness. I was getting worried. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Eddie but I can’t reach him. He was supposed to be home a while ago. Is he with you?”

Buck’s heart froze.

Christopher.

Someone needed to be there for Christopher. Someone needed to tell Chris what had happened to his dad.

“C-Carla. I’m at the h-hospital. Eddie…Eddie’s been shot.”

He expected to break down again at having to tell Carla. To cry. To shake till he finally fell apart. But he didn’t. He felt strangely calm. Disconnected.

He heard Carla gasp through the phone. Bobby was watching him intently, hovering nearby like he was ready to step in if Buck needed. Their eyes met and Buck shook his head in an I got this gesture. And he did. This was something he could do for Eddie. For Christopher. 

“Oh, honey.” Carla’s voice was thick with tears. “I saw something on the news. I didn’t think… Is he going to be OK?”

“St-still in surgery. We don’t know yet. Carla, I’m coming over. I need to tell Chris. I-I want him to hear it from me”. Buck ignored Bobby who was obviously trying to catch his eye again. “I-I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you stay till I get there?”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need.” A pause. “Buck, sweetheart, are you OK?”

He sighed. People kept asking. Jamie. Bobby. Eddie had asked, while his blood was drying on Buck’s shirt and on his skin. While his blood was in Buck’s mouth.

Eddie’s blood.

The thought would not go away. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth again and, just for a moment, he thought he was definitely going to throw up. But no. Somehow, he managed to keep control.

Still not meeting Bobby’s eyes, he said “Yeah, Carla, I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you soon.” And he ended the call.

Buck stood. Slowly. Unsteadily. Bobby was there with a worried hand at his elbow, gripping Buck firmly. Keeping him stable like so many times before. He didn’t dare look at Bobby, but just said quietly “I have to go and see Chris”.

Bobby started to object but Buck stopped him, saying in a broken voice. “Bobby. I have to do this. Let me do this. Let me do something that makes a difference here.”

Then he added, stronger now, “You wanted me to get out of here, so I’ll go to Eddie’s. I can rest there just as well as at my loft.” It was reasonable. Rational. 

It was desperate.

Bobby slowly nodded, obviously not liking any of his options. He’d argued that Buck should leave the hospital, should go home and rest. It was obvious he needed to, so Bobby could hardly go back on that now. But taking on the responsibility of telling Christopher what had happened to his Dad? That was a lot for anyone. Especially someone who’d just lived through the trauma Buck had faced. Bobby also knew in his heart that no one would support Chris better through this nightmare than Buck. His Buck. They’d faced trauma together before and it had forged a bond between them stronger than most family ties. Buck was important to Christopher. He loved him and trusted him, almost like a parental figure. And Chris would need that tonight. He would need Buck.

Bobby sighed, resigned, then asked, “You need anything, kid?”

“I’m good”. Lie. They both knew it. Buck was not good. “I’ll take your duffle, if that’s OK. So I can wash your stuff and give it back. I-I do appreciate the loan, Bobby”.

“Buck, you really don’t have to…”

“I do, Bobby. I need to.” Then in a softer voice, “Thank you for being here. For him. For me. When we needed you. Stay with him for me?”

Bobby swallowed and Buck thought he looked like he might cry. “Of course, kid. Anything for you. And for Eddie.”

Buck pulled Bobby into a hug and then, without any further goodbye, he turned and headed for the exit.

First, he ordered a ride to his loft. Once he was home, he quickly changed into his own clothes. A shirt that actually fit and pants that weren’t bloodstained. He put Bobby’s shirt back into his duffle and threw some of his own things into a bag. He already had clothes at Eddie’s, but he didn’t know how long he’d need to stay there with Chris. Once packed, he ordered another ride then, grabbing his bag and Bobby’s duffle, he headed for the door. 

It was late by the time Buck got to Eddie’s place. He thanked his driver, then walked up Eddie’s drive, past where his own jeep was parked. He hadn’t even looked for it at his loft. Of course Buck’s jeep would be on Eddie’s drive. He’d carpooled with Eddie to work that morning. When everything had been normal. Just a couple of hours and a lifetime ago. 

Pushing open the front door, Buck stepped quietly into the silent hallway. It usually felt like coming home, but this time his thoughts screamed at Eddie’s absence. Buck put his bags down by the door, then slipped off his shoes leaving them in the space Eddie had made for him on the Diaz family shoe rack. He moved into the living room but, finding it empty, he headed to the kitchen.

Carla was there, finishing the washing up. She turned as he entered and, taking him in with one critical look, she bustled over to wrap him in a hug.

“Oh Buckaroo, you OK?” She asked, the worry plain in her voice.

Again, thought Buck. I’m fine. It’s Eddie who isn’t OK. 

“I’m good Carla, really. Wh-where’s Chris?”

“In his room. I told him you guys were out on a call that ran late. I hope that was OK. I knew you wanted to talk to him about what’s going on with Eddie.”

“Thanks Carla. And thanks so much for staying.”

“Any time, baby. Do you want me to wait while you talk to him? Do you need me to make you some dinner, or did you eat already?”

At the mention of food, that now familiar metallic taste flooded back into Buck’s mouth.

Eddie’s blood.

His stomach churned.

“It’s OK, Carla. I ate at the hospital.” 

She looked at him dubiously, but let it go.

“You go home,” Buck continued. “Get some rest. We’ll see you in the morning, right? To take Chris to school?”

Carla raised an eyebrow.

“You think he should be going to school?”

Buck rubbed at his tired eyes. His head ached. Everything was suddenly overwhelming. How was he supposed to have all the answers?

“I-I think so. He can’t visit Eddie right now because he’s in the ICU, and keeping some normal routine has to be good, right? I can talk to the school and make sure they know what’s happening. It feels better that he goes to be with his friends than he sits at home worrying.” He looked at Carla, wondering if she agreed with this decision. Maybe she would call him out on it. Who was he to be making decisions like this for Christopher, anyway? Would Eddie trust him with this if he was awake? Probably not. 

Buck was just about to backtrack when Carla smiled at him and said “Sounds good to me, Buckaroo. I think you’re right about maintaining his routine as much as possible.”

She gave him a reassuring squeeze, then pulled away and went to grab her purse from the kitchen. 

“I’ll head home, then, if you’re sure. Buck, I know you got this but don’t hesitate to call if you need me. Either of you. You do not have to do any of this alone.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and then let herself out.

Buck stood alone in Eddie’s kitchen. He was in Eddie’s house. Christopher was in his room, a couple of yards away. For the second time in his life, Buck felt responsible for the most precious thing in Eddie’s world. His mind flicked back to being with Chris in the tsunami. He’d lost him that time. He’d failed to protect him, whatever Eddie said. This time, he promised, there will be absolutely nothing he won’t do to support Christopher through this. He sucked in a breath to steady himself. His hands were shaking again, and he felt like he might cry. He filled a glass of water and drank it down in an attempt to steady himself. 

Even the water tasted of blood. 

Eddie’s blood.

Why couldn’t he shake that thought? Why was his own mind so intent on torturing him?

Buck left his used glass in the sink. Not able to put it off any longer, he headed to Chris’s room, pausing at the door to knock.

“Come in,” Chris called.

Buck pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was a riot of colour. It was a celebration of childhood, a celebration of Chris. It had been decorated with love and with joy. As ever, Buck felt the stark contrast between this room and the rest of the house that was decorated in the drab neutral colours that he knew Eddie hated but thought he had to use. Buck desperately wished Eddie would show himself a fraction of the love he gave Christopher.

Chris was sitting on his bed, so Buck went over and perched next to him.

“Hey Buck!” Chris was always so happy to see him. Buck wondered if this moment might change that. Would Buck bringing this terrible news make Chris hate him?

“Hey” Buck managed,

“Where’s Dad?”

Buck swallowed.

He’s not coming home tonight, Chris”. I can do this, Buck thought. I can.

“Why not?”

Because I didn’t save him. I didn’t keep him safe.

Looking back, Buck would never understand how he survived that conversation with Chris. Somehow he held it together, trying to balance reassurance with honesty, not promising anything that would give a false hope. Chris, always positive, argued that his dad would be OK because the doctors would fix him- just like they fixed Buck.

Then his phone lit up with a text from Bobby. Eddie had made it through surgery and it had gone well.

Buck made some reassuring noises to Chris and then, well, everything he’d been holding in, all the pieces he’d been holding together, shattered under the relief that tiny bit of hope had brought.

He sat, sobbing, on Chris’s bed, lost to everything, until a small hand cupped his face and a voice, wise beyond its years, said “It’s gonna be OK, Buck”. Which made him cry even harder.

Once the storm had passed, Buck helped Chris get ready for bed, tucked him in and turned out the light.

“Night, Superman”

“Goodnight Buck”

Buck gently closed Chris’s door and went back into the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten since, well, he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Breakfast, maybe? Here in this kitchen before the world had gone to hell. He knew he should eat. He thought about trying to throw something together, but he was exhausted and even thinking about food made him nauseous.

He sat on the living room couch, a mug of herbal tea - chamomile tea that Buck couldn’t remember making - sat untouched on the coffee table. The house was silent. Still.

The television was off, but that didn’t matter. Buck had a movie clip playing on repeat in his head. He closed his eyes and watched inside his brain, again and again, as Eddie rocked with the impact of the bullet. His Eddie. He saw the cloud of red explode from Eddie’s shoulder and he felt it settle on him. On his face. In his mouth. He could taste Eddie on his lips. But not in the way he’d been dreaming, wanting, for the last few years. Not the taste of Eddie’s kiss, but a sharp metallic tang.

Eddie’s blood.

Buck reached for his now-cold tea, anything to take away that taste. But it didn’t. He gulped down the cold, bitter liquid but all he could taste was blood.

He moved back into the kitchen, swapping the tea for a glass of water. Then he grabbed blankets and a pillow from the closet in Eddie’s hallway and went back to the couch.

Not to the bedroom. Not to Eddie’s bed. He couldn’t sleep in Eddie’s bed. No matter how much he wanted to, how much he wanted to feel close to Eddie. Because Eddie wasn’t his, despite how much Buck wanted him to be. However much Buck loved Eddie, and he really did love Eddie with all his heart, Eddie didn’t love Buck. Or maybe Eddie loved him as a friend, but that was all. 

And it was enough. More than enough. It had to be. Right now, Buck didn’t need Eddie to be in love with him. He just needed Eddie to be alive.

Buck squirmed as he tried to get comfortable on the couch. He set his alarm for 6.00 am and settled into the cushions. It wasn’t too bad, all things considered, and it felt familiar. He hadn’t expected to be able to sleep but the exhaustion of the day overwhelmed him almost immediately.

Buck closed his eyes and dreamed of Eddie. He usually loved it when dreamed of Eddie. His Eddie. 

Except, tonight, for the first time his dreams of Eddie weren't dreams at all. They were nightmares.

Chapter Text

It took Buck a moment to realise where he was when he woke up. It took a beat longer to work out what had woken him. He was lying on a couch. Not his couch. He was at Eddie’s. So far, so normal. But Christopher was shaking his foot, it was broad daylight, and…

Oh. Yeah. Eddie got shot yesterday. His Eddie. And Buck was supposed to carry on. Like everything was OK, like everything was fine.

He could do that. He could look after Chris. Be normal at work. Be there for whatever Eddie might need. Of course. No problem.

Except he was already messing this up. 

Buck checked the time and groaned. It was 7.20am. Carla was due in less than 20 minutes. He threw back the blanket and hauled himself off the couch. He gave Chris a good morning hug, then herded the boy in front of him into the kitchen. He looked at the breakfast options and decided cereal was the only thing that would work in the very limited time they had. He fixed a bowl and some juice for Chris, and made coffee for himself. He hustled Chris through his breakfast and his morning routine and, by the time Carla arrived, by some miracle Chris was nearly ready for school.

Carla swept in and gave Buck an appraising look.

“How’s it going Buckaroo?”

Before Buck could answer, Chris bustled back in from where he’d been cleaning his teeth in the bathroom.

“Buck snores,” he told Carla, huge grin on his face. “Really loudly.”

Carla smiled at that, then said to Christopher. “You ready to go, hon?”

“Just need to grab my bag.”

While Chris headed to his room to fetch his school bag, Carla helped Buck clear the breakfast things.

One bowl, she noted. Just a mug of coffee that looked untouched on the side.

“No breakfast for you today, baby?” she asked lightly.

Buck didn’t look at her. “We-we got up late. There’s not been time, what with getting Chris ready. I-I was going to grab something at the firehouse.”

Carla Hmmmed pointedly at him and arched an eyebrow. “You see you do. That boy needs you right now. But you have to take care of yourself too. You need any help, you just have to ask. ”

Buck turned to the sink and started rinsing Chris’s bowl. “I-I will Carla. I will.”

Then Chris was back, ready to go. Buck pulled him into a tight hug. “You can call me if you need me, don’t forget. Whenever. I’ve OK’d it with the school while your dad is in the hospital. You just need to raise your hand and ask to be excused to make the call. All your teachers will be fine with it.” 

Chris nodded. “OK, Buck”. 

Then Carla whisked him away to school.

Buck looked round the kitchen. He noticed his coffee on the counter. It was cold. He didn’t have time to make another, and he didn’t think he could drink it anyway. He forced down a glass of water, trying not to let himself taste it, then he went to work. 

He pulled into the firehouse parking lot just a few minutes late. He grabbed his bag from the back of his jeep and jogged into the vehicle bay. He dropped the bag by his locker, and hurried upstairs. He was just in time to join the morning briefing. Usually, this consisted of routine updates on any known issues, events in the area, weather conditions and the like. Today was not usual. Today’s briefing focused on the sniper attacks. It was tense, with everyone aware of the fear and anger in the room. The briefing concluded with Bobby sharing the LAPDs plans to keep them safe while they did their jobs. It boiled down to flack vests and police protection on calls.

Yeah, thought Buck. That makes us totally safe. He didn’t say anything out loud. He saw how scared Ravi and some of the other younger guys were. If they could take comfort in this, then who was he to deprive them of that?

He checked in with the hospital periodically, but there was never any change. Eddie was stable, but still unconscious. He showed no sign of waking up.

It was a tense shift. All the calls were routine, mundane even, but the first responders were all on edge and so were the people they were helping. Buck hated that, instead of being pleased to see them, people were scared of being near the firefighters who came to help them in their hour of need.

Not that he could blame them. If you were already hurt or scared, being brought into proximity of people being used for target practice didn’t help matters. 

Another thing that didn’t help matters was how the rest of the team were walking on eggshells around Buck. They had been careful around him all day. He’d given them no cause to worry, he thought. He’d worked calmly and efficiently all day. He’d even refrained from making unhelpful comments, and had worked mostly in silence, except when he needed to pass information or give instructions. Yet he could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, and he saw the worried looks that passed between Chim and Hen. He didn’t let anyone get close enough to talk to him, though. He couldn’t bear them asking how he was doing. He didn’t think he could make Fine believable just then. 

At break time, Buck didn’t join the team for coffee like he usually did, instead going up to the roof to get some space to think. That was until one of their LAPD protection detail pointed out the roof wasn’t a smart place to hang out when there was a sniper at large, one who was actively targeting firefighters. Buck was made to come inside. He bypassed the kitchen, where everyone else was gathered, and headed for the bunk room instead, where he lay facing the wall and pretended to sleep so no one would bother him.

At lunch, Bobby made lasagne. Everybody knew it was Buck’s favourite, and that Bobby was offering it as comfort food. Buck joined them, but sat in silence, pushing the food round his plate. Not eating. He’d tried a mouthful but, still, all he could taste was blood.

Eddie’s blood.

It didn’t matter what he tried, everything tasted of blood. It was worse today than yesterday. He pretended to eat for as long as he could, then gave up. He just sat, staring into space, picking at the skin around his fingernails. He could feel Bobby's eyes on him, could tell his captain was building up to say something, and he was trying to find an excuse that worked. Then the alarm sounded and he was saved. 

That night, after his shift, Buck swung by the hospital and sat with Eddie a while. He held his hand and told him about how Chris was doing, and about the conversations he’d had with Chris's school. He told him Chris loved him, and that everyone was thinking about him. He told him how weird it was without him at work. He told him about the precautions intended to keep everyone safe but that wouldn't make a difference if the worst happened. 

No, thought Buck, as he said those words. The worst has already happened.

He didn’t tell Eddie about how much he was struggling. He didn’t tell him that he couldn't eat or drink properly because all he could taste was Eddie’s blood. 

He didn’t tell Eddie how he felt about him. He didn’t tell him that his heart shattered, just seeing Eddie like that. He didn’t say how much he needed Eddie to wake up. He didn’t say that he ached for Eddie in every corner of his soul.

He didn’t tell Eddie that he loved him.

Buck just held Eddie’s hand, told him about things that didn’t really matter, and searched his face for any sign Eddie could hear him.

But there was none.

Eventually, Buck said goodnight and, with a heavy heart and aching head, headed home to relieve Carla.

“Buck!” Chris called enthusiastically, as he pushed open the door.

“Hey, Superman” Buck replied, wrapping him in a huge hug and trying to hide the fatigue in his voice.

Carla gave him a look that told Buck she saw right through him.

“You guys have dinner?” Buck checked, wondering what he was going to feed Chris if not. You’re failing at this, the helpful voice in his head whispered.

“We did,” Chris told him. “Bobby dropped off some of his lasagna. He made double for lunch, he said. It was so good. We saved some for you!”

Nothing got past Bobby, Buck thought.

“Thanks Chris. I-I’ll have mine later. Right now, we need to get you into pjs and ready for sleep.”

Once Chris was in bed, story read and lights out, Buck trudged back into the kitchen. It took him a moment to register that Carla was still there. She was sitting at the table, watching him. He paused when he noticed her.

“C-Carla. I thought you would have left by now.”

“Evan Buckley, sit yourself down.”

Her tone was unusually stern. He sat, and looked at her questioningly.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I’m going to ask you a question and you are not going to lie to me. When did you last eat?”

Buck looked away. “Bobby made lunch at the firehouse today.”

“That, as I’m sure you are aware, was not what I asked you.”

Buck slumped forward, elbows on the table, head in his hands. He looked defeated.

“I-I just can’t, Carla. I try but… well… I can’t.” Then he seemed to make a great effort to pull himself together. He moved as if to stand and leave but she stopped him with a look.

“What did I say to you this morning? You need to be there for Chris, not wallowing…”

“I’m not wallowing”, he interrupted, crushed. “I’ve been trying. Really trying. I tried coffee and donuts at the firehouse this morning, then lasagna at lunch. Even a goddamn cereal bar and you know how much I hate those. I want to eat, I know I should eat, but…”

His voice trailed off and his eyes were suddenly wet with unshed tears.

“But what, Buckaroo?” Carla’s tone was more gentle now. She put a hand on his wrist and Buck was shocked at how warm her touch was. Usually he was the one that ran hot.

Buck sighed. “Nothing tastes right,” he almost whispered. “Whatever I try to eat or drink, everything tastes like blood.”

Eddie’s blood.

Carla looked taken aback, then her expression shifted back to worried.

“Buck, baby, why…?”

“I got covered in Eddie’s blood when he got shot. It got all over me. On my clothes. In my hair. Over my face.” He paused, closing his eyes at the still-vivid memory. “It was in my mouth.”

He heard Carla take an involuntary breath, but Buck couldn’t focus on the present. His mind was back in that street, watching the red mist explode from Eddie’s shoulder. Then he was back in the hospital, looking at himself in the mirror. Covered in blood. 

Coming back to the present, Buck suddenly remembered Bobby’s duffle. He stood and went to grab it from where he’d abandoned it the previous night.

“Dammit, I was supposed to get this back to Bobby. I’ll stick everything on to wash now so I can take it back to him tomorrow.”

Carla followed him into the utility room, obviously still wanting to carry on their interrupted conversation. Buck focused instead on the task at hand. There was a small pile of Chris’s clothes in front of the washing machine. He loaded those into the washer. Then, with his back to Carla, he unzipped the bag and started pulling things out. First was Bobby’s shirt, the one he’d borrowed. He stuffed that straight into the washing machine, then fished in the duffle and pulled something else out.

Buck froze, letting out a small, strangled sound.

“Buckaroo?” Carla said his name gently, like trying not to spook him.

Buck was staring at something in his hands. His whole body was shaking. Carla turned him gently and gasped.

Buck was holding a shirt, his shirt. Carla recognised it as one of his favourites. It was a white button-down with a grey pinstripe, and she knew Buck thought he looked good in it. If she’d noticed he wore it more around one Eddie Diaz, Carla had never said anything. Except now the shirt was splattered with blood. Eddie’s blood, Carla realised, her heart breaking.

She suddenly understood just how close by Buck had been when Eddie got shot. What he must have seen. What he must have felt.

Carla didn’t hesitate. She reached out and gently took the ruined shirt from Buck’s trembling hands, dropping it in the corner of the room out of Buck’s line of sight. Then, taking his hand, she led him back into the living room and sat him down on the couch. He just let her lead him and, when she looked, Buck’s expression was vacant, his eyes blank. 

“You stay here, honey, and I’ll get that laundry started” she said in a calm, no nonsense tone.

Buck didn’t argue, didn’t even look up. It was like he wasn’t even there.

Carla hurried back into the utility room. She put the detergent and softener in the machine and turned it on. She didn’t try to wash Buck’s shirt. She knew he’d never wear it again, even if the blood did wash out. Instead, she folded the shirt so the stain was inside and slipped it into her bag. She didn’t want Buck to see that reminder of yesterday’s terrible events ever again.

When she came back into the living room, Carla found Buck just where she left him, on the couch. He was still noticeably shaking, his eyes still fixed on something only he could see. Carla grabbed the throw blanket and draped it round his shoulders, more for the comfort of its weight than for warmth. Again, Buck didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t react in any way. Not good. He seemed to be going into emotional shock again, Carla thought, not helped by his system running on empty.

Well, she could do something about that.

Giving Buck a last worried look, Carla headed into the kitchen. She quickly made toast, prepared a small bowl of cereal, made a cup of Buck’s favourite mint tea, filled a glass with water, then set everything out on the table. Then she went back into the living room and knelt down before Buck, taking his still-trembling hands in hers.

“Buck, baby. I need you to look at me.” Her voice was soft but firm. It took a few moments but then, slowly, Buck looked up and met her gaze with slightly unfocused eyes.

“Buckaroo, I’m gonna take you through into the kitchen now.”

He didn’t respond, but he also didn’t resist. She helped him stand, pliant and seemingly numb, then led him through and got him situated at the kitchen table. Carla set the mint tea in front of him and he cupped his hands round the mug in a way that looked automatic rather than a conscious choice. The aroma of the tea filled the space and this seemed to finally bring Buck back to himself. He frowned for a moment, processing where he was, then he paled when he saw the food in front of him.

“C-Carla, I-I can’t” he moaned.

“Yes, you can, baby. You have to. Your system is struggling to deal with everything you’re going through because you’re running on fumes. You gotta eat, honey, and I’m going to help you.”

Buck felt a wave of exhaustion crash over him. He knew she was right. He just didn’t know how to do this.

He took a small sip of the mint tea. It was warm and the menthol steam opened his throat in a good way. Maybe he could do this. 

Looking at the options in front of him, Buck knew he couldn’t handle the cereal. He was nauseous just thinking about it. Instead, he picked up the toast and, desperately trying not to overthink things, took a bite, then another. He could do this. The metallic taste filled his mouth, bringing the nausea with it. He drank some tea. The taste was still there, but the strong mint tea helped a little. He ate some more. Drank more. Carla held his hand throughout.

“You are doing so well, honey. So well.”

Buck ate three quarters of the toast before it was just too much. The water and tea had helped but the taste of blood was suddenly overwhelming.

Eddie’s blood.

His head swam with it and he could feel it in his mouth. He pushed the plate away, jaw clenched against the nausea.

“No more,” he managed to say.

“That’s good, Buck, you did so good.” Carla’s voice soothed him. She tidied up the kitchen while Buck just sat, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself. He was, at least, fully present. Then Carla led him by the hand again, back to the couch, and sat down next to him. They sat together for a long minute. Buck felt himself settle, felt his breathing even out. Carla was still holding Buck’s hand and he realised how much it helped to have her calm and caring presence grounding him. His stomach settled. At some point, he realised he wasn’t shaking any more.

Carla squeezed his hand. “I’m gonna wait till the laundry is done, so I can put it in the dryer for you.”

“Carla, you- you don’t have to do that…”

“I want to, sweetheart. I need to know you're OK, and I want to sit with you a bit anyway. Do you need me to stay with you tonight? Or call someone to come over before I go home?”

“No, Carla. I’m doing better now. The food helped. Thank you for that”. It was a lie, but Buck kept his voice steady and held Carla’s eyes while he said it. She looked at him for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“OK, if you’re sure. You can call me at any point, you know, and I’ll come right on back.”

They sat there for a while, then Buck said quietly “Thank you. For being here. For helping.”

“Always, Buckaroo. So many people love you, just like we love Eddie. We’re all here. You just have to ask for help. You just have to let us help.”

Buck nodded. He knew that, he really did. Somehow, though, it didn’t feel that easy.

The washer finished its cycle. Once everything was in the dryer Carla said goodnight, promising to be back in the morning to help Buck get Chris ready for school. He thanked her again as she left, and she paused to give him a huge hug on her way out the door. Her parting words were “Remember, baby, call me if you need anything”.

Then Buck was left on his own in the quiet living room. It was late, and Buck tried to settle on the couch, now quickly made up with blankets and a pillow. He was exhausted again, but sleep didn’t find him as it had the night before. He kept thinking of the shirt he’d found earlier in Bobby’s bag. His favourite shirt, now stiff with Eddie’s blood. He’d looked for the shirt as soon as Carla left, not wanting Chris to find it in the morning, but it was gone. Carla had taken it with her. Not for the first time, Evan Buckley thanked God and the Universe for Carla Price. Now, as he lay in the dark, he couldn’t escape the images playing on a jumbled loop in his head. The shirt, covered in blood. Eddie standing right in front of him. The smell of the blood. The sound of the shot. Blood drying on his hands, under his fingernails. Being underneath a fire truck. Eddie falling. Eddie dying.

His Eddie.

Not his Eddie. Not really.

The blood on his hands, his shirt, his face.

Eddie’s blood.

In his mouth, the taste of it, strong and fresh.

Eddie’s blood.

In his hair, washing away at the hospital.

Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood. Eddie’s blood.

He couldn’t stop his thoughts spiralling. Something inside Buck broke. He curled up on the couch, his body wracked by silent sobs, not able to hold it together but knowing he couldn’t wake Christopher.

Eventually, the weeping passed. But sleep never came. Buck lay there till dawn, then he carefully tidied away his bedding and made the living room presentable for Chris, and for when Carla arrived. Then he just sat quietly, waiting for it to be time for Chris to wake up.

Trying to work out how he was going to survive another day of this. Another day without Eddie.

Chapter Text

This day started out pretty much like the last one. But, because Buck hadn’t overslept, or slept at all actually, they were up and ready in good time. Buck made sure that it at least looked like he’d eaten breakfast before Carla arrived. He had tried, but even with water and more of the mint tea, he’d only managed to eat a couple of bites of toast before the phantom taste of blood overwhelmed him again.

Eddie’s blood.

Dammit, he just couldn’t stop that thought. It seemed to echo through his mind on repeat. It was driving him crazy. Maybe he was crazy. The stress, the mental exhaustion and now the fuzziness from lack of sleep made him feel like he was spiralling out of control. But he had to hold it together, for Chris and for Eddie. They were depending on him right now and he just couldn’t fall apart. 

Chris was in the kitchen, his breakfast done, now focused on putting the finishing touches to the card he was making for his dad. He looked up and smiled at the sound of Carla letting herself into the house.

“Good morning to my two favourite guys” she called as she took off her shoes. Then she came through into the kitchen and leant on the counter next to Chris, checking out what he was working on.

“Christopher Diaz, that is excellent work. Your dad is gonna love it! You ready for school, hon?”

“Yeah. We’re on schedule this morning! And I’m much less tired today. I slept better because Buck didn’t snore at all!”

Chris grinned at Carla then hightailed it to the bathroom to clean his teeth. Carla raised an eyebrow at Buck, taking in his slumped shoulders and the smudges under his eyes. She didn’t smile. He swallowed and looked away, but he knew he was in trouble.

“So, you found a miraculous cure for snoring?” she asked. “There’s money in that, if so. Or did you just not actually sleep?”

Buck looked defeated. He moved slowly to the table, sat, then sagged forward to rest his head in his hands.

“I-I tried, Carla. Really. But I just couldn’t turn my brain off. I kept seeing…”

Buck’s voice cracked and he couldn’t finish his sentence. His eyes were wet, and he rubbed them with his hand to clear away the tears.

“You eat breakfast?” Carla asked, her tone softer, coming over to put an arm round his shoulders. She noticed he was shivering slightly, despite the warm day. He looked broken.

“I had some toast”. Not a lie.

“How much?”

“Some”. Not a lie. “Enough”. Lie.

Buck didn’t think for a moment that Carla was fooled. She pulled him into a tight hug and rocked him gently, looking at him with worried eyes.

“Buckaroo, you have to talk to someone. You can’t go on like this.”

Buck gave a hollow laugh.

“The only person I need to talk to is Eddie. I need to tell him… I should have told him…”

“What, baby?” Her voice was gentle now. “What do you need to tell Eddie?”.

Buck seemed to fold in on himself. He couldn’t keep it in any more.

“That I love him. That I’m in love with him. I wanted to tell him so many times but I wasn’t brave enough. Carla, what if I missed my chance? What if he never knows how much I love him? What if I’ve lost him?”

Buck’s face was wet with tears. Carla pulled him in tighter.

“Eddie is gonna be just fine. You’ll tell him. He’ll wake up, and you’ll tell him.”

Buck wanted so much for that to be true, but his mind filled with images that told a different story. Eddie getting shot. The blood on the floor. The blood on Eddie’s chest. The blood on Buck’s face in the mirror. The blood on his hands. On his face. Blood everywhere.

Eddie’s blood.

But he forced a smile to his face and said “Hope you’re right Carla”. He gave her a squeeze, then pulled out of her arms. “I need to go and chase up Chris.” 

Pushing up out of his chair, Buck paused for a moment, gripping the edge of the table, hit by a moment of dizziness. It passed quickly enough that Buck hoped Carla didn’t notice. 

No such luck. Carla gave him a hard look. “Did you sleep at all, honey?” she asked. He looked away.

“No, not really”.

“And did you actually eat breakfast?”

“Again, not really. Not much”. Buck sighed. “I promise I did try though.” He rubbed a tired hand across his face.

“Should you even be working?” Carla asked then, trying to keep her voice level. Her eyes were filled with concern.

“You know I have to, Carla. We’re already down Eddie, and everybody’s stretched. I’ll be fine. I’ll be careful.”

“Yeah, you’re known for that, Evan Buckley.” Then her tone turned serious. “You promise me,” she said. “You gotta think about Chris, and you gotta keep yourself safe.”

“I do. I will. I am.”

Carla looked at him like she didn’t believe him. On his current performance, Buck couldn’t blame her.

“Pinky swear” he said, trying to smile, holding out his little finger. Carla linked it solemnly with her own. Then she pulled him into another hug and pressed a quick kiss to his hair, before letting him go.

“Be safe, Buckaroo” she said in a thick voice.

Then Chris was there, ready, backpack in hand.

“You ready to go, Superman?”

“Yeah. You have a good day Buck. Be careful out there. And let me know if anything changes with Dad.”

Buck wrapped him into a hug. “Will do, kiddo. Your dad is asleep and healing right now, but we’ll be there for him after he wakes up.”

Carla gave him a long, knowing look. Why did she always make Buck feel like she could see right through him? Then she herded Christopher out the door.

Left alone, Buck almost staggered his way to the couch and slumped down. His body felt off. No sleep, no food. For a big man, used to eating enough to support a strenuous job and his frankly insane work out routine, this was serious. He knew he was running on empty and wouldn’t be able to carry on like this for much longer. He clung to a vague hope that, eventually, his body would just take over, the need to eat overcoming the problems his mind was causing.

Till then, he’d just have to keep going. There wasn’t really another choice.

Buck got ready for his shift, changing into his uniform and then struggling into the flack vest the LAPD had provided. It wasn’t easy on his own, but after a long minute he was fasting the Velcro and smoothing it into place.

Staging at his reflection, he almost didn’t recognise the grey and lifeless man in the mirror. The only colour was the bruised shadows under his eyes and the palest flush where his birthmark usually stood out a warm pink against his skin. Buck sighed. Carla was right. He shouldn’t be working. But he couldn’t sit alone in Eddie’s house. He couldn’t sit in the hospital and watch Eddie sleep, not knowing when or even if he’d wake up. And he couldn’t bear for his team to be out on calls without him, at risk through nothing more than doing their job, targeted for wanting to help people.

So, against even his own better judgement, Buck headed off to work. He tried to put on a front, to show he was fine and coping with everything. His team knew him far too well to be taken in. He saw their worried glances, the meaningful looks they shared behind his back. It was easier if he kept his distance. Maybe they wouldn’t see just how much he was struggling if he didn't engage. He no longer pretended to eat with them. He couldn’t even look at food without feeling nauseous, and the smell of cooking was enough to flood his mouth with the taste of blood. 

Eddie’s blood.

Buck screamed inside his own head. He had to find a way to escape that thought. It was killing him.

At lunch, he made some vague excuse, inventing an errand he had to run, saying he would grab something to eat while he was out. He wasn’t deaf to the whispers Hen and Chim shared, or blind to the frown on Bobby’s face. He knew that they cared, that they wanted to help. He loved them for it, and wished with all his heart that they could make everything better. 

They just couldn’t.

Bobby tried to make him man behind as much as possible. Buck hated it but he was also grateful. By halfway through the shift, he knew his body was struggling. The strength he’d worked so hard for, and was so used to being able to rely on, was definitely starting to fail. He wasn’t in the right headspace, either, and more than once he caught his thoughts drifting, his focus lost. He was struggling physically and mentally, and couldn’t wait for the shift to be over.

Then a call came in. A construction worker trapped at the top of a crane, bleeding heavily. 

Buck wasn’t surprised when Bobby’s voice called “Buckley, you’re with us on this one”. He was by far the best with rope rescues so Bobby needed him, even if just for his read on the scene. He severely doubted Bobby had any intention of letting him leave the ground. And he was definitely OK with that.

As they were loading into the truck, Bobby bumped his shoulder into Buck’s.

“You OK, kid?” His low voice didn’t carry to the rest of the team, but Bobby’s gaze held Buck’s own for a beat before the younger man dropped his head and looked away.

“Yeah, Bobby. I’m good. Just didn’t sleep well.”

Bobby gave him a sharp look, his raised eyebrow speaking volumes about how much he did not think Buck was doing good. “We need you on this, Buck, but don’t push too hard. I won’t risk you too.” Buck had no words. He just nodded at his captain. Then, everything loaded up, they headed out.

The crane was a nightmare. In every sense. It was exposed, impossible to protect and, most significantly for Buck, had an injured man bleeding out at the top of it. The motion of the fire truck on the way to the scene had been somehow soothing, and he’d felt himself tune out repeatedly on the short drive across town. Though he’d roused himself when they reached the construction site, his head was permanently fuzzy from lack of sleep and he was only dimly aware of the conversation between Hen, Chim and Bobby and the LAPD officers that had been assigned to protect the team. He vaguely grasped that they couldn’t climb up to the guy themselves because, well, sniper. Specialist support wouldn’t get there in time to save the injured workman.

Suddenly, Buck was angry.

He was angry at the sniper for shooting Eddie. For creating all this panic. For putting all his team at risk. For making them all terrified. For putting them in a position where they couldn’t do their jobs and help people. 

And he was angry at himself for not protecting Eddie. For not being able to protect any of the people he loved. For not being able to help the guy dying, all alone, at the top of the crane.

Well, that one he could fix. He would help that workman, alone and scared and bleeding. And he would keep everyone else out of harm’s way too. Before he knew it, he was moving. He grabbed the medical supplies he’d need from the ambulance, ropes and a helmet.

Then, all unnoticed, Buck started to climb.

It took a while for someone to spot him. He heard a shout from below, and then his radio crackled to life. Bobby. Telling him to get his ass back down to safety. Buck winced at the fury in Bobby’s voice.

But.

That was not happening. Buck was still too angry.

“Bobby, I got this.” Buck said into his radio. “I’ve got the gear I need to help the guy, and Hen or Chim can talk me through what I need to do. I am not going to stand there and do nothing while this man dies. Not when I can help him.”

At ground level, Bobby took a deep, steadying breath. Not for the first time, Bobby thought Evan Buckley was going to be the death of him. He started to raise his radio, preparing to try again, but Hen put her hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“He feels useless, Bobby. And guilty. And scared. And you know he’s not coping with Eddie being hurt. You know how he feels about Eddie, even though he tries to hide it. We all do. I think the only one who doesn’t is Eddie, and I’m sure that’s just making it worse. Buck feels like he needs to do this. Can you blame him?”

Bobby looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I can,” he said, shortly, and turned away.

It was a long climb. Buck realised he might have made an error in judgement about three quarters of the way up. Climbing hundreds of feet at speed was, apparently, a bridge too far, given his current condition. Starved of sleep, but more importantly of food, a dizzying wave of fatigue suddenly washed over him. He had to stop for a minute to let the sensation pass, clinging to the rungs of the ladder he was climbing.

Dammit, he thought, almost laughing. Imagine the trouble he’d get into if he fell. He actually giggled at that. Come on Buckley. Get a grip.

Light reflected off the tall buildings all around him. Was one of them hiding the sniper? Did he have his rifle locked on Buck? Buck didn’t know and, he realised, his tired brain just couldn’t bring himself to care. If he was currently in some random sniper’s cross-hairs, at least it wasn’t Hen or Chim at risk. A picture of Christopher from that morning flashed through his mind. How many Oh no, you’re in hospital! cards had Chris made in his short life? Buck had at least eight of them himself. Chris had lost his mom so young. Eddie... was going to be fine. He had to be. But it wasn’t right for kids like Chris to go through something as terrifying as seeing a parent hurt. He wouldn't let that happen to Denny or to Jee-yun. Maybe the guy at the top of the crane had kids too. And that thought gave Buck strength. No other child would have to endure one of their parents not coming home to them tonight. Not if he could help it.

His radio sprang to life again. Bobby. Buck could tell he was both angry and worried now.

“Buck. Talk to me. What’s going on? You OK? Why’d you stop?”

Buck took a breath to steady himself. Then another.

“Just having a rest for a moment, Cap. It’s a long way up.” Buck inwardly cursed at how unsteady his voice was.

“You’re a sitting duck up there, you know.” Bobby sounded calm again, though it was probably an effort. But Buck could hear the emotion behind the words. Bobby was scared for him, and Buck hated to do that to his captain.

“I know, Bobby, I know. But at least it isn’t anyone that matters.”

The words escaped without Buck really meaning them to. Buck turned his radio off before Bobby could respond. He’d get in trouble for that too, eventually, but at this point it was the least of his worries. He started to climb again, trying to ignore the way his legs were shaking with fatigue. He could do this. He would do this.

Back at ground-level, Bobby was shouting into his radio, getting only static in response.

“Bobby, I don’t think he’s listening,” Chim said carefully.

“When has he ever?” Bobby snapped, regretting it instantly. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Sorry Chim. I’m just scared. Did you hear what he said? He doesn’t think he matters. I thought we were past that. I thought he was past that.”

Chim sighed. “I think he is past thinking like that, normally. But there isn’t anything normal about what he’s going through right now. We just need him to get down safe and then we can help him deal with… whatever is going on in his head.” Chim looked up at the tiny figure of Buck now nearing the top of the crane. “One thing’s for sure, I’m not sure who’s going to save him from Maddie when she hears about this”.

Hen, standing next to him, gave a humourless smile. “He’s got bigger worries than that, guys. Who’s going to save him from Eddie when he wakes up and hears about this?”

Chim huffed a laugh. “I’d pay to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.” He grew serious. “At least it would mean Eddie was awake”.

They were interrupted by the radio. Buck. He’d had reached the patient and was reporting back, giving the team updated info, asking for guidance. They talked him through what to do, though Buck had it all under control, really, Hen thought to herself. It seemed like no time at all until Buck was descending from the crane, attached to the cradle bringing the injured man down to safety. Buck had done an outstanding job, been calm under pressure and definitely saved the guy’s life.

Then Hen took a look and Buck and stilled. He looked totally exhausted. Unbuckled from his harness, he seemed to sway slightly on the spot, a lost and unfocused look on his face. He was staring down at his hands, covered in blood. 

Oh, Hen thought. Oh no. That’s not good. She moved closer to him, and gave his arm a squeeze.

“Buck, you good there?” She asked gently.

He looked up and his eyes met hers. Usually so sharp, Buck's ocean blue eyes were hazy and distant. For a moment, she didn't think he saw her at all. Then, he seemed to shake himself back to life.

“Yeah, Hen, I’m good. All fine”.

His voice was distant too, and Hen wondered where he had gone to in that moment. Was he back in the hospital after Eddie's shooting, looking at Eddie's blood on his hands? Her heart broke for him. She realised all at once how young Buck still was. He'd been practically a baby when he joined the team, all bluster and bravado to cover his nerves. Sometimes that seemed like a lifetime ago. But this big, strong, kind, resilient man, her friend who was so quick to care, to help, to love, was still so young. And he'd already been through so much. Yet he never backed down. Never asked for help. Never stopped pushing. 

Sometimes, like right then, Hen wished he would. She wished he would just let himself be human. Be loved. She wanted him to know it was OK to have help and to let people take care of him. She had the sense that, before he joined the 118, very few people had loved Evan Buckley and taken care of him like he deserved. Maybe only Maddie. He'd found his family at the fire house. Bobby loved him like a son, and she and Chim both treated him as their little brother. And there was Eddie. Their friendship had become central to both their lives. For a while now, she had known that Buck felt more than friendship for Eddie. It was in his every glance, every word, and every action. And she strongly suspected the feeling was mutual, though she wasn't sure either of them would ever say anything. 

Which was another reason this must be so very hard for Buck. And yet he was trying to survive it alone.

It wasn't working.

-----

"Yeah, Hen, I’m good. All fine”. He knew he wasn't but he couldn't let her see. And, in a way, it was true. He'd made it up to the top of the crane and back down again in one piece, saving a life in the process. He had done good and everything was fine. 

Then he saw Bobby’s face. Hmm. Maybe not.

But to Buck’s surprise, Bobby didn’t say anything. Just gave the order to load up and roll out. Buck was too tired to wonder why, moving on autopilot to help pack the gear and then struggle into his seat for the journey back. 

Back at the firehouse, Buck was the last to climb out of the truck. An almost tangible weariness, exhaustion like he’d never felt before, had settled across his body and his mind. It felt like a cloud he was both wrapped in and floating on. That same cloud seemed to fill his thoughts, making them slow and sluggish.

He looked down at himself. He needed a shower. He was covered in blood.

Eddie’s blood.

No… wait… was it? He… couldn’t remember. But he wasn’t in uniform when Eddie was shot, so… not Eddie’s? But then, who?

The blood, whoever it belonged to, was dried on his hands, on his clothes. It made his skin itch, and he just knew he needed to be clean. He grabbed his bag with his spare gear and headed for the showers, still in a kind of daze.

Before he could get far, Bobby’s voice startled him back to reality.

“Firefighter Buckley. A word.”

Buck realised he should get this over with. Bobby was not happy, and it wasn't going to get better if he avoided the conversation he knew they were about to have. Dropping his bag, he dragged his weary body up the stairs to the firehouse loft, where Bobby was waiting.

Bobby was making lunch and the smell hit Buck like a punch to the face. His head swam as that too-familiar taste of blood filled his mouth.

Eddie’s blood. That was Eddie’s blood.

Bobby was talking, but Buck couldn’t focus on what he was saying. He was looking at his hands. Covered in blood.

Eddie’s blood. No, not…

The room swayed in front of him, and his legs trembled. He felt unsteady. Lost. Confused. He reached out blindly for something, anything, that would give support. His groping hand found the counter and tried to grip on. But he didn’t seem to have control of his body any more. Dark spots blossomed across his vision and he felt his knees start to buckle.

Then there was a strong arm at his waist, stopping him from falling. He tried to focus but it was so hard. The world just kept swimming out of focus. He finally recognised Bobby, face filled with worry, holding him up. Bobby was saying something, shouting, Buck thought. But, he couldn’t process anything. Not just then.

“M sorry, Bobby,” Buck managed weakly, before the world went dark, and he sagged limply in his captain’s arms.

When Buck came back to himself, he was laid out on one of the firehouse’s couches. His legs had been raised and Hen and Chim were working on him, attaching monitors and taking readings. They worked quickly and seriously. 

“Hey, Buckaroo,” Chim said softly, seeing Buck was conscious again. “You back with us?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and Buck realised Chim was yet another person who now felt they had to worry about Evan Buckley. 

“Guys, m’OK” Buck said quietly, the slight slur in his words revealing the lie hidden there also.

Hen gave him a look which clearly said that she would be the judge of that, and she absolutely did not believe him. Chim squeezed his shoulder and said “Glad you’re awake, Buck. You should know, though, that there is an actual line of people waiting to shout at you. Including both of us, once we’ve finished making sure you aren’t going to die. You must have a real talent, to be able to upset so many people in such a short time. Fair to say, people are unhappy with you. You may want to pretend to be unconscious for a while longer.”

Buck grimaced, then he tried to sit up. The wave of dizziness that hit him, combined with another look from Hen, made him rethink. He settled back down onto the worn leather of the couch.

“A-a line of people?” He asked, confused. “Who did I annoy that badly?”

Chim snorted. “Well, once Bobby is through with you, Maddie has thoughts she’d like to share. Athena is also here, and she has that look on her face. You know the one.”

Buck groaned. He did, in fact, know the look Chimney meant. He’d been on the wrong end of it more times than he cared to remember. Not good. Maybe pretending to be unconscious a while longer was actually a good plan.

“But I think the person you need to be most scared of is Carla.” Chim continued. “I don’t know her that well, but I’ve never seen her actually angry before. It’s very impressive. She may be more scary than Athena, because it’s just so unexpected coming from her. Buck, someone known for being relentlessly cheerful is really mad at you. Be afraid, man. Be very afraid.”

Buck looked panicked. They were all there to shout at him? But he hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he? Then he realised he wasn’t exactly sure why he was lying on a couch while his friends worked on him. Something must have happened, Buck realised. What had he done this time? 

“Why’re they all mad at me?” Buck asked in a voice not exactly slurred now, but still soft around the edges.

Chim gave him a concerned look. “Don’t you remember? The crane? The insane climb? Ignoring Bobby, not to mention the very real risk of death by sniper? The passing out once we got back here?”

Oh, Buck thought. Yeah. That. All of that. That would do it every time. Maybe pretending to be unconscious wasn't enough. Maybe he just needed to move to a different state. He closed his eyes as the room decided to take that moment to tip slightly to the right. He felt like he was on a ship, one that might actually be sinking. 

Then, as everything flowed slowly back to him, Buck realised he hadn’t asked the most important question. Gingerly, he raised himself up again.

“A-any update on Eddie?” They could all hear the hope he was trying to hide.

Hen took pity on him. “I just called the hospital, Buckaroo. No change. He’s still stable, but unconscious.”

Buck slumped back like the life had been sucked out of him. The sudden movement made his head spin dizzily and he closed his eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t have to pretend to pass out again.

Then Bobby was there.

“How’s he looking? He awake yet?” There was tension in the question.

“We’ve stabilised him, Cap. He’s starting to come back to us”.

Buck heard Bobby’s relieved sigh. Then he was kneeling by Buck, taking his hand.

“Don’t do that again, Buck. You scared us, scared me. I love you, kid.”

Buck opened his eyes. Everything felt strange, far away and too close at the same time.

“Hey” Bobby’s voice was gentle. “You OK?”

“Fine, Bobby”. The words felt odd in his mouth, wrong somehow. 

Buck heard Bobby let out a strained laugh.

“You’re not, though. Are you? Obviously. Tell me what’s going on, Buck. How can we help?”

Can you make it so I was shot instead of Eddie? Buck asked, inside his head.

He heard everyone gasp.

Or… maybe he said it out loud. Dammit.

“Buck…” Bobby started to say. But he was interrupted. Buck couldn’t see the speaker but it was a voice he’d know anywhere. Maddie.

“You did not just say that, Evan Buckley”. Oh, Buck thought distractedly. Full name. She’s not mad, she’s fuming. “And why did I see a video of you climbing a crane? Unprotected and alone. While there is a sniper shooting firefighters. You, baby brother, are a reckless, idiotic…”

“Hang on Maddie, that’s unfair,” Bobby interrupted her. The thought ran through Buck’s disordered mind that Bobby must be even braver than Buck thought, to interrupt Maddie in full flow. “I don’t think Buck was being reckless. It’s worse than that. He was being calculating. This was a choice. He decided to put himself in danger so no one else had to. So no one who actually matters would be at risk. Isn’t that right, Buck?”

Buck didn’t reply, but tried to make himself so small he might disappear. He kinda hated Bobby right then.

“You said what, now?” A new voice, one forged from steel with anger running through its core.

Buck groaned. Not just Maddie. Athena. Well, this just kept getting better.

“Tell me you aren’t serious, Bobby?” Athena’s voice was cold and hard.

“Buck’s own words, Sergeant Grant.” Yep, Buck hated Bobby, and not just a little. He sighed.

“It’s… it’s not like he’s m-making it sound.” His voice was strange in his ears. It felt like it was coming from a world away. His vision flickered again. Feeling oddly disconnected from himself, he carried on. “I just… I meant no one with… with a family”.

As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. The room stilled for a beat. Then there were lots of people talking at once. Moving. Reaching for him. It was all a blur. So much to process.

Too much.

Buck’s exhausted mind screamed.

Buck’s exhausted body took the opportunity to sink back into unconsciousness.

This time, when he came to, awareness came back to him much more quickly. He was still on the couch, but when he tried to move, he felt a painful tug at his elbow. He realised he was now connected to an IV.

At least he wasn’t in hospital. He should probably count that as a win. 

He looked around and found himself under Carla’s watchful gaze. She did not look like her normal happy self. He wasn’t sure where the others were, but he found himself wishing there was someone else there, if only to protect him from Carla. 

“Buckaroo. Welcome back. Again. You gonna manage to stay with us this time?” Her voice, usually so soft and reassuring, had a hard edge to it that Buck didn’t recognise and really didn’t like.

“Carla. What happened? Why are you here? Is Chris OK?”

“Chris? Oh, baby, Chris is fine. He’s still at school. Of course he would be your first thought.” Her eyes narrowed.

”I’m here because I saw a video of some idiot of a firefighter climbing a crane, and it turned out to be you. I had to come see you were OK. Which of course, you aren’t ”.

She looked actually mad now.

“Because… what happened? What happened is that you passed out with exhaustion. Twice. Having not slept or, more importantly, eaten anything for days. After pinky promising me you’d take care of yourself.”

His eyes filled with tears. He'd let her down too. 

“Carla, you know I tried. With the eating. You know… why…”

Her expression softened slightly. “I do. And I know you tried. But you promised me you’d take care of yourself. Instead, despite having not slept or eaten, you decided to climb the tallest crane in the city while there’s a sniper targeting firefighters.

So. Tell me how that is taking care of yourself. In any possible sense.”

“Carla…”

“No, Buckaroo. I love you but I’m mad at you, honey. You scared me. You scared everyone. Why would you possibly think it was OK to climb that crane?”

Buck hated this. He hated disappointing Carla. The tears that threatened earlier finally spilled.

“I’m sorry Carla. I just couldn’t let anyone else get hurt. Not anyone at the 118. Not the guy on the crane. No one. I couldn’t stop Eddie getting shot, but I could protect them today.”

Eddie.

Just saying his name made Buck’s exhausted mind swirl. The now-familiar metallic tang flooded his mouth, the taste of blood.

Eddie’s blood.

Jesus. Maybe he should just get those words tattooed somewhere and be done with it.

Carla pursed her lips. “Did you tell Bobby? About the eating, I mean. And the sleeping. Does he know why you passed out?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, but I’m guessing they will have worked it out. Hen will have tested for blood sugar levels and mine will have set off alarm bells.”

Buck paused.

“Where is everyone? How long was I out?”

Carla sighed. “You’ve been out about 25 minutes. A call came in just after you passed out again, so the 118 left me in charge of your care. Maddie really didn’t want to leave but she had to go pick up Jee. She only left in the end because I said I’d stay with you. She keeps asking for updates, like every 5 minutes. And Athena was on shift. A call came in and she had to get back out there. She promised to be back later. Or threatened maybe more accurate. Buckaroo, you need to know this is only a temporary reprieve.”

Buck grimaced.

“L-listen Carla. I-I’m sorry. I tried. I thought I had everything under control. But…”

Suddenly he was sobbing. Carla’s stern facade cracked and she held him, rocking him gently, till the crying passed.

Buck wiped his hand across his face. He looked Carla in the eyes, his face filled with despair.

“I just don’t know what to do, Carla” Buck sniffed. “It’s like I’m losing my mind. I know the taste of blood isn’t real but it… it feels real. And it’s destroying me.”

Then there was the sound of the 118 rolling back into the firehouse. The team made short work of stowing the gear, then Hen, Chim and Bobby were there.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Back with us for real this time?” The joke in Chim’s words didn’t hide the concern in his voice.

Hen looked at Carla. “How’s he doing? How long has he been awake?”

Buck tried to protest “I’m right here, Hen” he said weakly.

She gave him a look that spoke volumes and carried on talking to Carla, like Buck hadn’t said anything.

“Any ideas what caused him to crash? The crane was a tough climb, but normally I’d have thought Buck could handle it no problem.”

Carla looked at Buck. “I don’t know, Buckaroo. What could possibly have caused you to be so dramatic?”

Buck sighed and closed his eyes. “Carla” he whined. “You don’t have to tell them.”

“Oh, baby” Carla said gently, nothing but love in her voice now. “You know I do. It's for the best. You won’t tell them, so I will.” She gave his hand a squeeze.

Buck opened one eye and looked at her.

“Maybe y-you could help me tell them?”

“Sure, honey. I’m right here if you need me.”

Buck tried to sit up. It took him a couple of attempts but with Chim’s help he managed to get upright on the couch, mindful of the IV he was still attached to.

Looking at his hands, Buck struggled to work out how to start. He noticed they were clean now, though there was still blood under his nails. He knew now it wasn’t Eddie’s. Someone had cleaned him up while he was unconscious. Hen, if he had to guess.

He sighed and took a deep breath.

“So.”

They were all watching him, trying to be reassuring he knew, but it was coming across as worried and judgemental.

“So” he tried again.

“Buck,” Bobby said quietly. “Take your time. It’s OK.”

Buck gave a humourless laugh.

“It’s really not, Bobby. Nothing is OK. Eddie got shot.”

Bobby looked like he was going to say something more but Buck carried on.

“When… when it happened, I got covered in blood.”

Eddie’s blood.

“It was on my face, in my hair, on my clothes. In my mouth.”

This wasn’t news to Bobby. He’d seen Buck at the hospital straight after the shooting. But Hen and Chim looked stricken.

“Buck…” Chim managed.

Buck held up a trembling hand.

“Bobby helped me get cleaned up. The blood on my skin and in my hair washed off. But the blood in my mouth… Ever since…” Buck swallowed, nervously. Carla squeezed his hand. “Ever since the shooting, all I can taste is blood. Everything I eat or drink tastes metallic and wrong.”

He rubbed his face.

“I know it’s all in my head, by the way. Obviously. But knowing that doesn’t help. Food just makes me feel nauseous. Even the smell. I’ve tried, I really have, but I’ve only managed to eat a few bites of toast since the shooting. I think the ladder climb” - Buck saw Bobby’s face darken - “just took more out of me than I had in the tank”.

He looked down, embarrassed by how ridiculous all this was. His team must think he’s stupid, a liability. What if Bobby fired him? Again. 

Then he felt arms pull him into a hug. Hen was holding him tightly.

“Oh, Buck. What are we going to do with you?”

“Tell me I’m an idiot and let all this go?” Buck suggested without any real hope.

Chim coughed. “I think I speak for Maddie when I say that’s not an option, Buck.”

Buck sighed. “Thought as much”.

Carla cleared her throat. “Listen, guys, Buck’s going through a lot. I know we’re all worried about him and just want him to be safe and OK. I was angry before because he scared me. He’s still scaring me. But I was wrong to be mad at him. He is trying, and we need to help him.” She looked at Buck and added, almost apologetically “In the spirit of full disclosure, he also didn’t sleep at all last night. He can’t keep going like this. As we saw just now, it’s too much.”

Bobby nodded at that. Buck could see Bobby’s mind working, trying to find a way to help Buck, trying to work out what he needed.

But the answer was simple, really. Buck needed Eddie to wake up. He couldn’t do any of this without Eddie. Hid didn’t know how to. Feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over him, Buck tried to fight it. He tried to sit up straighter, knowing he couldn’t pass out again. They’d admit him, maybe even to the psych ward for evaluation as to why he had the phantom taste of blood in his mouth constantly. If he wanted to be there for Chris, for Eddie, he’d better get himself under control.

There was a low buzz of conversation as the 118 and Carla tried to come up with a plan to help Buck. He zoned out, the drone of their voices became a comforting backdrop to his jumbled thoughts. He didn’t know how long he drifted, awake but with his mind disconnected from reality.

Then his phone vibrated. The caller ID showed it was the hospital.

Eddie.

That brought everything back into sharp focus. Buck answered the call, terrified it would be bad news. A moment later, despite the fatigue and the dizziness, Buck was on his feet and moving.

Eddie was awake.

Chapter Text

In the end, Chim drove Buck to the hospital to see Eddie. Buck had been adamant he had to go, and they had all agreed he couldn’t drive himself. Well, Buck didn’t actually get a vote, but he had privately agreed with the others. He wasn’t very confident in his ability to walk particularly far just then, and he knew he definitely shouldn’t be driving.

Chim pulled into a space in the hospital parking lot, cut the engine, then turned to Buck.

“You OK?”

“No, Chim, not really” was the honest answer, and honesty was all that Buck had left at that point. He ran a hand across his tired eyes.

Chim reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder. “I’m sure Eddie is OK, man. Awake is good. They just can’t share too much information over the phone. Let’s get in there and you can see him for yourself.”

Buck sat in his seat a moment longer, gathering himself. He didn’t know whether he should feel hopeful or scared. All he actually felt was numb. He took a breath, then another, and another, trying to ground himself back into reality. After a long minute, he unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly climbed out of the car. He could feel Chim’s eyes on him. Watching him. Making sure he was OK. It felt wrong to Buck. Eddie should be the focus, not him.

The nurses station was empty when they got to the ward so Buck, desperate to see Eddie, headed straight for his room. Chim followed in his wake.

Taking a final steadying breath, Buck reached out a trembling hand and pushed open Eddie’s door. Then he froze.

Eddie was awake.

Eddie was awake.

Eddie was awake, propped up in bed and looking right at him. The warm brown eyes Buck adored were open and focused on him, even if they were a little hazy from pain meds. Buck could feel himself staring at Eddie, hit afresh by just how much he loved the man in front of him.

“Hey, Buck. Chim.” Eddie’s voice was quiet and rusty, but it was the most beautiful thing Buck had ever heard. And Eddie, tired but fully awake and lucid, his eyes meeting Buck’s own? He was the most beautiful thing Buck had ever seen. Eddie was awake. His Eddie. It was all Buck had wanted since the moment Eddie fell, bleeding, in the street. His head swam with it. It was overwhelming. Yes, in a good way, but overwhelming nonetheless. Suddenly, his legs didn’t seem to beconnected to the floor any more. Or, if they were, the floor was moving. Buck swayed, very slightly, and he closed his eyes to try and regain control. Then Chim was there, walking him to the chair by Eddie’s bed, and helping him sit.

Eddie looked at them, confused at first, then concerned.

“Buck, you OK?” The question was gentle, but Buck could hear an urgency in the words he didn’t understand.

He groaned. Not again. Eddie didn’t get to ask that again. Not with a fresh wound from a sniper round in his shoulder.

“I’m fine” he almost snapped. “Why do people keep asking me if I’m OK? I’m not the one who got shot.”

The room went quiet. Eddie looked shocked and opened his mouth to say something. Out of the corner of his eye, Buck saw Chimney shake his head at Eddie, ever so slightly, telling him to drop it. Eddie didn't say anything, but Buck saw his frustrated expression. Dammit. Eddie just woke up and Buck was already making it all about himself. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just hold it together? He could feel the beginnings of tears and fought hard against them. He was not going to cry, not on top of everything else.

He felt Chim put a hand on his arm. Buck flinched for a second, then settled a little at the touch.

“Easy, Buck. Easy. You’ve been through a lot today.”

Buck closed his eyes again and nodded, taking deep calming breaths. Not that the breathing seemed to be working. 

He could feel Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Buck?”

“‘M’OK Eds” Buck managed, but he could hear how tired he sounded. “More importantly, how are you? H-have the doctors said anything?”

“They said the surgery went well. They’re planning more tests, but it looks like, after a load of PT, I should make a full recovery.” 

Then Eddie smiled. 

It was just a smile, but it illuminated Buck’s entire world. It was like the sun coming up, like dawn breaking to drive away Buck’s personal night. And suddenly it felt real. Eddie was going to be fine.

His Eddie.

Not his Eddie. Not in the way he craved.

But that didn’t matter. Not right now. Eddie was awake, he was healing. If all there could ever be between them was friendship, Buck would take that every day of the week over a world without Eddie Diaz in it.

Eddie settled back onto his pillows and Buck realised again how tired Eddie looked. He was also obviously still in pain, despite the meds. But Buck could see he had questions. Of course he would have questions. Buck tried to fill him in quickly, focusing on the important things. Starting with the most important. 

“Chris is OK, Eds. He’s doing good” Buck told Eddie. “I’ve been staying at the house with him, and Carla has been amazing. I- uh - everyone really missed you. I… we were so worried. It’s… not been… easy without you”.

Chim snorted a laugh, one he couldn't quite hide with a cough. Eddie‘s eyes flicked to him, again asking an unspoken question. 

“Chim,” Buck warned, voice low.

Raising his hands in surrender, Chim said “I didn't do anything!" Then he added, almost serious now "He is going to find out. You know that, Buck?”

Buck actually growled at him.

Eddie narrowed his eyes.

Chim laughed as he stood and moved to the door.  “I'll leave you two to talk. I’m going to go find a coffee and text Maddie. She wants an update. Visiting hours end soon so I’ll be back then to take you home”, he said to Buck. “Glad you’re back with us Eddie. Get some rest.”

As Chimney closed the door behind him, Buck shut his eyes, trying to focus and to get his spiralling thoughts back on track. What had they been talking about? Chris, right? He could do this.

He opened his eyes again to find Eddie still watching him with concern. Buck looked down and his hands and then picked up where he’d left off. 

“Chris has been going to school. I hope you think that was the right choice. I-I wanted to, you know, keep up some sort of routine. The school has been great. Really great. Now… now you’re awake, I’ll ask Carla… or maybe Hen, actually, to bring him in. Tomorrow, after school, when you’ll be stronger and you guys will have time to....”

“Buck”. Eddie’s voice was quiet, and Buck could see he was exhausted and in pain.

“What is it, Eddie? What do you need?” Buck cursed himself for rambling on without checking in on what Eddie might actually need him to do.

He froze as Eddie reached out with his uninjured arm and, slowly and carefully, took Buck’s hand in his own. Buck felt like his whole body was vibrating at Eddie’s touch, the warm hand proof that Eddie was alive. That he was real. 

“Buck, I need to know what’s going on with you”. The words were heavy with emotion. 

Something fractured in Buck’s chest. How could he have made Eddie worry about him, when Eddie’s entire focus should be about getting better and getting back to Christopher? Eddie did not need Buck’s drama to make that harder. 

“N-nothing’s going on with me, Eds. I’m good. It’s been a rough few days. That’s all.”

“Buck”. 

“Really, Eddie. You don’t need to worry about me. You just need to focus on getting better. You’ll be home with Chris and back on your feet in no time.”

Eddie did not look satisfied with that answer, but he was fading now, despite obviously trying hard to fight it. Buck gave his hand a squeeze.

"It's OK, Eddie. You can sleep".

Eddie looked like he was going to protest but, before either of them could say anything else, the door opened and a nurse - Kayla, Buck remembered - bustled in.

“Oh. Hi, Buck. I didn’t realise you were back here. Nice to see this one awake, huh?”

“Yeah,” Buck agreed, “it’s a relief to have him back with us”.

“Well, I’m gonna have to rain on that parade for tonight, I’m afraid,” Kayla said, giving Buck’s shoulder a quick squeeze as she moved past him to stand by Eddie’s bed. “It’s time for Eddie’s meds, and visiting hours ended five minutes ago.”

Eddie looked crestfallen. “Can’t we have a few more minutes? I really need to talk to Buck.”

“I think it will have to wait until tomorrow now, hon. These meds are probably gonna knock you out real fast” Kayla injected the medication into Eddie’s IV. “It’s getting late, and you look all in. As does Mr Buckley here, who needs to go home and get himself some proper rest too.” That last part was accompanied by a pointed look at Buck, who gave her his best attempt at a sheepish grin. It didn’t quite land.

“You can stay till he's asleep, Buck,” Kayla said, softly now. “Then straight home. You look beyond exhausted. You need me to call you a ride?”

Buck gave her a real smile this time. “Thanks, Kayla. I’m good. I’ve got someone to drive me home”.

“Well, then, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Night, boys.” She gave Buck’s shoulder another squeeze as she passed his chair again, then she pulled the door closed behind her as she left the room.

Buck watched her go then, looking back at Eddie, said “You do need to sleep, Eds. It’ll help you heal. Everything will still be here when you wake up. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Eddie obviously wanted to argue but he just couldn’t. His eyes drooped closed almost instantly as fatigue and medication pulled him into sleep.

Buck sighed. It was such a relief to see Eddie awake and to talk to him. But it also really brought home to Buck that he wasn't getting over his feelings for Eddie any time soon. His eyes ran over the face of the sleeping man in the bed next to him. Eddie had more colour now than last time Buck saw him, when he was still unconscious. There were still purple smudges under his eyes and, even in sleep, he seemed to wear the ghost of a frown. But he looked like Eddie again, and he was beautiful.

Buck looked at Eddie’s hand in his, their fingers still laced together. Unable to help himself, Buck lifted Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressed three soft kisses to the back of it, then gently laid it back on the bed. He wanted to hold it forever, but he would settle for being able to keep that moment forever in his heart. Locked away with his feelings for Eddie.

Just at that moment, Chim poked his head round the door. “Is it safe to come in?”

“Yeah, man” Buck managed in a voice rough with exhaustion. “Eddie’s asleep.”

Chim looked at him, the concern from earlier still evident.

“How you doing, man? Really, I mean. You look like crap.”

Buck laughed, but it came out as a tired huff.

“I feel like crap, Chim. But Eddie is on the mend, which is all that really matters. Just having the chance to talk to him really helped.” Buck sighed heavily. “Having him back with us might be what I need to shake all this off.”

Chim pursed his lips.

“You know, Buckaroo, we’re all here to help you. Eddie isn’t the only one who matters, You do too. Why not let Hen take Chris tonight and get some proper rest? And something to eat. Then, tomorrow, you can bring Chris to see Eddie.” Chim paused. “You could even stay with me and Maddie tonight. She’d really like that.” He paused again then added “I’d really like that too”.

Buck shook his head.

“I-I appreciate the offer, Chim, but I just need a little time to process things. Like you said, today has been a lot.”

“Buck, I really don’t think you should be on your own, not after what happened earlier. If coming to us is too much, then why don’t I come stay with you at Eddie's? I’ll give you space, I can sleep on the couch. I just think it would be good to have someone there, you know, just in case”

An unexpected warmth filled Buck’s chest. He knew that his family at the 118 cared about him, he really did. Sometimes it was easy to get in his head about it, though, and to feel like he was always too much. Especially when he messed up like he did today. It was sometimes difficult to understand why they would love him anyway, but they did. Chim was a good man and a good friend, and, not for the first time, Buck was grateful that he and Maddie had found each other.

“Chim, I’m good. Really.” Buck rubbed a hand across his face and then hauled himself to his feet. To his credit, he didn’t sway or falter. He felt light headed, just for a moment, but he covered it well.

“See?” he said to Chim, who was hovering nearby protectively. “I’m fine.”

Chim let out a quick laugh. “Yeah, Buckley. Of course you are.” He sighed. “OK. Let’s get you home.”

They drove back to Eddie’s house mostly in silence, Buck eventually lulled into a doze by the movement of the car. When it stopped, it took him a moment to realise they were on Eddie’s driveway.

“Thanks, Chim” Buck said, his voice blurred by sleep. He made no attempt to leave the car though.

Chim sighed, then hopped out and came round to the passenger door, opening it for Buck. Buck looked at him blankly for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what should happen next. Then he finally managed to coordinate his mind and body enough to move. While Buck struggled out of his seat, Chimney reached into the back and grabbed a bag Buck hadn’t noticed until then.

“Um, Chim?” There was confusion in Buck’s voice.

“If you think I’m leaving you on your own right now, you don’t know me very well Buckaroo. Like I said, I don’t think you should be alone, and you’re not doing a great job of convincing me otherwise here.”

“Chim, I already said you don’t have to…”

Howard “Chimney” Han always thought of himself as a fairly chill guy. He was calm and cool and laid back. Which is why he surprised himself as much as he surprised Buck when he kinda lost it.

“Evan Buckley, if you tell me one more time you are fine, god help me I’ll call Maddie and Athena right now.”

Buck looked at Chim with shock and shrank away slightly. Chim saw Buck recoil. That wouldn’t help anything. He took a moment to compose himself, then said in an exasperated voice that didn’t quite hide the ironic undertone of the words “This has not been a good week for me, Buck. My co-worker and good friend was shot. In the street. Just because he was doing his job. He only survived because another co-worker and good friend who- let us not forget- was also being shot at, managed to get him to safety, keeping him alive in the cab of a speeding fire truck with nothing more than a wound dressing and hope. The friend who got shot is now on the mend, thank god, but it was touch and go for the last few days.”

Chim took a breath, then ploughed on.

“During those last few days, my other friend, who I love like a brother, has been taking it on himself to solo parent our injured friend’s kid, to protect him from the pain and worry as much as he could. He also decided to take risks in his job as a firefighter that surpass even his unusually high benchmark for stupidity. All while not having eaten for days.”

Buck’s eyes had widened at love like a brother but his shoulders dropped in guilt as Chim continued.

“Today, I've had to watch you put yourself in mortal danger. I’ve had to watch you pass out. Twice. I’ve had to watch you float through the world like you’re not actually tethered to reality. And I’ve seen you hide your very obvious feelings from your seemingly oblivious best friend.”

Buck tried to interrupt but Chimney held up his hand. He continued now in a softer, sincere tone.

“Joking aside, Buck. Of course this isn’t about me. But you are not alone here. We all love you and care about you. About both you and Eddie. It matters that you are OK. You matter. I thought Bobby was going to lose his mind when you said what you did about mattering less because you didn’t have family. And Maddie? She is not happy with you right now. She's your family, but so are we, you know? All of us. 

And you may think we don’t know how you feel about Eddie, but we do. I understand why you’d be scared to say something. I was scared of telling Maddie how I felt, and we didn’t have anywhere near the history you and Eddie do. But, Buckaroo, this hopeless pining has to stop. Eddie plays his cards closer to the chest than you do, but I’d bet a significant part of a year’s salary that he feels the same as you do. You two idiots just haven’t connected the dots yet. Maybe this is the push you need to actually talk.”

The stunned expression on Buck’s face finally got through to Chimney who made an obvious attempt to get back to safer topics.

“So, to be clear, I am staying here tonight. Chris should have had his dinner by now and, once you’ve had chance to check in with him and talk to him about Eddie, he is going to Hen’s for a sleep over. Carla will take him on her way home. It’s all been arranged.”

“Not on a school night” Buck finally managed to interject in a small voice, trying to regain some control.

Chim looked at him, expression becoming somehow gentle and more exasperated at the same time.

“It’s Friday night, buddie.”

“Oh”. Buck seemed floored by that development. Like the days of the week had tricked him somehow.

Chim took him by the elbow and steered him to the house. Before they opened the front door, Chimney paused.

“Eddie is doing OK now. Chris is good. Tonight is about getting you fed and rested. Then tomorrow, we’ll make sure Chris can see or speak to Eddie, now he’s awake. And you guys have to talk. OK, Buck?”

Buck just nodded. They went into the house and Buck was greeted by a whirlwind of arms and crutches.

“Buck, you’re home!”

“Hey, Christopher”. Buck pulled Chris in for a huge hug. He didn’t miss that Chimney was hovering protectively, and Buck realised Chimney was still worried he might pass out again.

Buck told an emotional Christopher that Eddie had woken up, and Chris immediately demanded to go see his dad. Buck’s exhausted brain couldn’t really process how to talk him down from that. Luckily, Carla was there. Buck realised she must have been there all along, and he felt bad he hadn’t even said Hi.

Between them, Carla and Chim, with some very little help from Buck, explained to Chris that Eddie was asleep again because he needed the rest to heal, but that Chris would be able to talk to his dad tomorrow, and hopefully he'd be well enough for a visit.

Chris wasn’t happy to wait. But the promise of a sleepover at the Wilsons’ was a reasonable distraction, given the good news about Eddie. Chris headed off to pack his things. Carla followed him, turning back to them as she left the room.

“We ate already. Pot roast. Maddie dropped it round. Yours is still in the oven to keep warm. There’s plenty for you both,” she said, looking pointedly at Buck.

“Thanks, Carla.” Buck said, trying to sound like he meant it.

“Thank you Carla. You’re an angel, and so is Maddie.” Chim was much more convincing. Then he added “I’ll make sure he eats after you’ve gone.”

Carla nodded, and went to go help Chris. Buck sank onto the couch, and closed his eyes for a moment. He heard Chimney pad into the kitchen. There was the sound of cupboards being opened, mugs clinking, kettle boiling and, a few minutes later, Buck heard the soft click of a drink being set down on a coaster in front of him.

He could smell... coffee. It smelled amazing, but then quickly brought that now familiar metallic taste to his tongue.

He opened his eyes to find Chim hovering in front of him. His friend nodded at the steaming mug.

“Think you’re gonna need that to stay awake through dinner.”

Buck tried to smile but he could feel it came out more like a grimace.

“I don’t think…”

Chim leaned  forward, picked up the mug and placed it in Buck’s hands, ignoring the tremor that threatened to make the coffee spill. 

“Try”.

And Buck did. Try. Really. He looked at the steaming mug, remembering how much he loved to drink coffee. Good coffee, like this. This was the expensive coffee Eddie kept here just for him, selected after hours of research into beans, roasters, and grind size. Buck loved this coffee, so much so that his first cup in the morning was practically a religious experience. 

All he could do now was look at it, knowing what would happen when he drank it.

He met Chim’s eyes and tried anyway. It was… manageable. To start with. He took a sip. Another. Another. He’d drunk half the mug before the taste of blood was overpowering.

Eddie’s blood. 

Still that thought wouldn’t leave him. He’d hoped, maybe, now Eddie was awake… But no.

A sudden wave of nausea hit hard and he was on his feet heading for the bathroom before Chim could move. He made it just in time, flipping the toilet lid as he sank to the floor in front of the bowl.

A few moments later, Chim was there with him. A reassuring hand on Buck’s back. A gentle voice, talking him through worst of it. Absently, Buck thought in passing about how good at this Chimney was. Again, he was pleased his sister had such a good man in her life. She deserved nothing less. Then Buck’s fuzzy thoughts were derailed as he hunched over the toilet bowl again.

Once the nausea passed, Chim helped Buck to his feet, eyes narrowing as the taller man swayed slightly on the spot. Buck really did look all in. Chim helped him clean up, then walked him back into the living room, watching as he dropped heavily back onto the couch.

Buck sat, head tipped back and eyes on the ceiling, breathing deeply. Like the walk back from the bathroom had taken a lot out of him.

Then he heard Chris and Carla heading back in and he roused himself. Chim saw as Buck pulled an invisible mask into place, watched him force his body upright and push the exhaustion from his face, replacing it with a smile. It was terrifying how good Buck was at hiding his pain. Just for a moment, Chim wondered what else Buck could be hiding from them, and whether any of them truly knew the real Evan Buckley. Then his focus snapped back to the present, and to Buck trying to be normal on the couch in Eddie’s living room to protect his son. Chim had literally no idea how Buck was doing it, but he was holding himself together for Chris. So Chris wouldn’t see. So he wouldn’t worry.

It didn’t work, of course. Very little got past Christopher Diaz, who came into the living room with concern written across his face.

“Buck, did you get sick?”

Buck winced, like being found out was actually painful. Then he schooled his expression back into a smile.

“Yeah, bud. I-I guess I did.”

Chim was watching, wondering what lie Buck would spin to reassure Chris. But he’d underestimated Evan Buckley, child whisperer.

“Sometimes people find things hard, Chris. And that’s OK. I’m struggling a bit with what happened to your dad. I-I guess it’s the stress of it. It’s made it hard for me to eat and drink like I normally would, and I-I feel sick sometimes.”

Chris frowned.

“But Dad is getting better, right?”

Buck beckoned Chris over and, when he joined them on the couch, Buck pulled him into a hug.

“Yes, Chris, he is. Really. And that’s what’s important. What’s happening with me is… temporary, just a reaction to the situation. My brain knows your dad is gonna be OK, but it’s just taking my body a minute to catch up. It will, though, and I’ll be fine.”

Buck pressed a kiss into Chris’s curls. Chim looked away, the moment feeling somehow private.

“You’re gonna be OK, Buck”.

Chris’s voice was soft, and he cupped Buck’s cheek as he said it, and the words broke something inside Buck. Chim and Carla could both see it, though they weren’t sure why.

Before anyone else could speak, Buck took Chris’s hand from his face and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks, Superman. We’re all gonna be OK.” Then he changed tack. “So, Carla’s gonna drop you off at Hen’s for the sleepover. In the morning, when you come home, you should be able to call your dad- as long as he’s had a good night and is awake and ready for visitors. And then we can plan when you can go and see him. Sound good?”

Chris beamed at the thought of getting to see his dad.

Then Carla asked if he was ready to go. Chris gave Buck a goodbye hug, then stood and happily made his way to the door. Buck watched him go, smiling after him. Heard this front door close. Then his face tightened and the smile fell away.

Chimney obviously noticed. “He’s OK, you know, Bud.”

“I know.” Buck whispered. “You just never stop worrying about someone you love.”

And Chim’s heart might have broken, just a little, at that. Because they both knew Buck wasn’t just talking about Chris.

Needing to do something to change the mood in the room, Chim stood and rubbed his hands together.

“OK, Buckley. Dinner. We have got to get something into your system. Come on.” He stood and looked at Buck. “You can do it, you know.”

A grimace flitted across Buck’s face. “I know. I’m coming. You go through. I-I’ll be there in a minute.”

Chim gave him a flat look.

“Really, Chim, I’m right behind you.”

“I’ll be back through for you if not. And I’d better not hear the thump of your dramatic ass hitting the floor again. Three times wins you a trip to the ER.”

Buck huffed a quick laugh at that.

“I-I just need a minute, Chim.”

Chimney nudged his shoulder as he passed, heading to the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Buck rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He pressed till he saw stars, then blinked them away.

Eddie, you better had be getting better, he thought. I don’t think we’ll cope if you aren't awake and fully yourself tomorrow.

I don’t think I’ll cope.

He laughed under his breath.

Not that I’m actually coping now, his traitorous mind added.

He heard the clinking of plates and cutlery from the kitchen and knew he had to move.

Hey, maybe this time it will be OK, Buck tried to convince himself. He stood, hardly noticing the greying at the edge of his vision, or the feeling of distance from his own body.

Buck made it to the kitchen and sat opposite Chim, who was already tucking into the dinner Carla left with enthusiasm. He knew it should have looked and smelled amazing. Maddie’s pot roast with corn bread, the good kind, on the side. It was his idea of food heaven, topped only by Bobby’s lasagne. But, somehow, even being in the same room made Buck’s head spin and his stomach clench.

Chim looked up at him and Buck felt the worry in that gaze. 

And, just no. That would not do. No one else was going to waste their energy worrying about Buck, not on top of everything else.

So he picked up his fork and got stuck in. He didn’t have any other choice.

It tasted… well, it tasted as he’d expected. That unpleasant metallic tang, the thick taste of blood that Buck was beginning to think would haunt him forever.

Eddie’s blood.

But he had to eat it. He had to push through it.

Buck routinely ran into burning buildings, climbed unsafe structures and - apparently - taunted snipers with his very existence. Tonight, eating Maddie’s pot roast felt like it might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done.

But he did it. Not all of it. Not even close. The taste of blood in his mouth became too much before he got halfway through. He pushed away his plate and sat back in his chair.

But Chim looked... grateful? Relieved? He could see Buck was trying his best to be good, to do what he obviously needed.

But it was hard. He could still taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth. It never really left him now.

The accompanying feeling of nausea was intense, and the food he’d eaten rested heavily in his stomach. Full. An unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

Still, Buck went through the motions, helping Chim wash up after dinner. Not able to make small talk. Just concentrating on staying upright, finishing task after task. Washing. Drying. Putting things away.

Then it could be time for bed.

Bed.

Buck realised he had no idea where they were going to sleep. Just one more thing to wrap his tired brain around.

Options, Buck considered. What were the options?

Chris’s room was out of the question. Even though Chris was at a sleepover, Buck wasn’t going to invade the kid’s space, and he knew Chimney wouldn’t be comfortable doing that either.

So, that left the couch. And Eddie’s bed.

Buck hadn’t really been in Eddie’s room since the shooting. It wasn’t his place. He slept on the couch, like he always did. He'd been getting changed in the bathroom in the mornings and at bedtime. He stole private moments in the laundry room, in the kitchen and in his jeep when he needed time to process things. Or to cry.

He couldn’t sleep in Eddie’s bed. That wasn’t going to happen. Chim would take Eddie’s room and Buck would be happy on the couch as normal. He took a deep breath and somehow made it to his feet. Chim raised an eyebrow, as if to say Where do you think you are going?

“Just getting the beds set up” he said. “Grab yourself more coffee. Or a beer. Anything you want.”

Chimney stood too. “You need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

Buck tried not to look defeated. He desperately wanted to enjoy a cold beer, slumped on the couch watching a movie. But, much as he loved Chim and, grateful as he was for the support, Buck wanted that with Eddie. He sighed.

“Can you make some mint tea?” That was the option he knew he could cope with best. It was better than nothing and he needed the hydration.

Buck left Chim in the kitchen and headed down the hall. He stood for a beat outside the door to Eddie’s bedroom. Then, fingers trembling, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was immediately enveloped in the soft scent of Eddie. His soap, his laundry detergent, his cologne. 

Him.

Eddie was everywhere. Obviously he would be, Buck thought. This was his room. But Buck’s eyes darted round unbidden, taking in all the small things that made this Eddie’s space. The good watch Eddie wore at weekends, safe in its spot by the bed. The book on Eddie’s nightstand, one Buck recommended but never really thought Eddie would read. The photo of Christopher by the bed, the day he first tried the skateboard they built, Eddie smiling broadly as Chris laughed with joy, Buck himself grinning in the background. Eddie’s clothes on the chair, folded, waiting to be worn.

This is why Buck had avoided this space. Eddie’s space. It was… too much. How could this space exist unchanged while Eddie had been fighting for his life?

Buck made his way to the closet and pulled out fresh sheets. Mechanically, he stripped Eddie’s bed, trying to ignore how much stronger the scent of Eddie was this close to the bedding that he’d slept in. It made his heart race, and Buck suddenly realised how much he’d missed Eddie’s physical presence. He yearned for him. His touch. His warmth.

Buck was a tall man, a strong man, and he was regularly teased by his team over his training regime. Yet, right now, the fight with the comforter was too much and Buck had to sit on the bed for a moment to breathe. He couldn’t tell if it was the exhaustion or the overwhelming Eddie-ness of it all. But it was more than he could take. He felt his eyes prick with tears. 

Struggling back to his feet, Buck finished making the bed then did what Maddie always called a surface tidy, putting away anything he thought Eddie might not want Chim to see.

Buck took a deep breath, looking round at everything, trying to draw this feeling of being surrounded by Eddie into his very soul. Then he headed back to the living room. Chimney was sat on the sofa, a half-drunk beer in one hand. His eyes flicked up as Buck walked in.

“OK?” he asked.

Buck sagged onto the couch, tipping his head back, eyes flickering shut.

“Yeah, all good. The bed in Eddie’s room is ready for you, whenever you want.”

Chim looked at him, confused. “You don’t have to let me have the bed. I can just take the couch.”

Not making eye contact, Buck said “I-I, um, I sleep on the couch, Chim. I... can't use Eddie’s bed.” 

“So, you spent the past few nights out here?” Chim asked, surprised.

Buck swallowed, then said quietly “I can’t sleep in Eddie’s bed. Not…”

“Not like this?” Chim finished for him, turning it into a question. His eyes filled with heartbroken understanding at what Buck was going through.

He bumped his shoulder into Buck’s, handing him the tea he’d asked for earlier. Buck sipped it slowly, but Chim winced as the expression on Buck’s face showed just how unpleasant he found drinking it to be. Chim sighed. He hated that he didn’t know how to help Buck get past this. He wanted to ask Buck how he was feeling. He wanted to tell him it would all be fine. He wanted to remind him that Eddie was on the mend and he’d be home soon. He wanted to tell Buck to be brave and tell Eddie how he felt. That the whole team was rooting for them. But one look at Buck told Chimney that his friend was not ready for any kind of real conversation.

So what Chim actually said was “Come on, I’ll help you make the couch up before bed.”

Buck Hmmmmd his response, but he rubbed his eyes and hauled himself to his feet. He shuffled through into the kitchen, putting his half-drunk mug in the sink, and grabbing his bedding from the hallway cupboard on his way back.

It didn’t take a moment to make the couch ready. Then it was finally, thankfully, time to sleep. Or try to, at least. Buck let Chim use the bathroom first, then said goodnight before he himself went to get ready for bed. He rinsed his face, not recognising the grey-faced man in the mirror as he dried himself. He felt the exhaustion of the past couple of days, physical and emotional, hit afresh. He gripped the sink as the room swayed in front of his eyes. He staggered slightly as the spinning caused the nausea, always constant background noise now, to worsen. He felt the bile rise in his throat and he sank to his knees in front of the toilet, just in time for the food he’d managed to eat earlier to reappear.

It made Buck so frustrated and angry.

He hated this. He hated that he couldn’t hold it together long enough to eat a goddam meal. He hated that he couldn't stomach a coffee or juice. Because it all tasted of blood.

Eddie’s blood.

He hated that, still, that thought wouldn’t leave him. That this was likely to be the most intimate connection he would ever have with Eddie, and it was destroying him.

Getting to his feet, he rinsed his mouth, then cleaned his teeth. The strong mint taste blocked, just for a minute, the taste of blood that haunted him constantly.

Eddie’s blood.

Eddie.

He needed to see Eddie. It was no good. He had to see him, even if he was asleep. Leaving the bathroom and heading to the hallway, Buck opened the relevant app on his phone and called up a ride to the hospital. Then, having set what he needed to in motion, he took a moment to breathe in the quiet of the house before slipping on his shoes, grabbing his jacket and heading outside to wait for the car to arrive.

Chapter Text

Hospitals were never quiet. Buck knew that. Even in the early hours of the morning. Still, it was a shock to go from the silence of the car ride, where there was nothing to drown out the screaming of his thoughts, to the buzz of the hospital, where the hum of voices and the regular rhythm of machinery brought a useful distraction. He knew visiting hours were long over. Or maybe, his tired mind mused, he was just very early for the next day. He puzzled at that before realising finally that it didn't really matter. The issue was that he wasn't supposed to be there. But. He also knew all the nurses on Eddie’s ward. They all understood what it meant to be a first responder and to have to visit when opportunity allowed. No one would stop him seeing Eddie. 

At least, that was what he’d thought. What he’d hoped. He was about to put it to the test. 

He made his way through the corridors in a kind of detached daze, his thoughts racing but feeling somehow numb. He slowly became aware that he was at Eddie’s door. He raised his hand to knock and then... paused. Because it hit him, suddenly, just how ridiculous this was. How ridiculous he was. He was standing outside Eddie’s hospital room in the early hours of the morning, too exhausted to form a coherent thought.

What the hell was he doing here? This was insane.

He didn’t want to disturb Eddie. Couldn’t disturb him. Eddie needed rest. He needed to heal. This was Buck being Buck in the worst way. This should not be about him and what he needed. Not this time. It had to be about Eddie.

Buck reached out and rested his hand against Eddie’s door, as if that gesture alone would somehow feel the same as touching the man himself. As if it could somehow be enough. It had to be enough, though. For now, at least.

It could never be enough, Buck's traitorous heart whispered. His eyes stung and the world blurred, softened by his unshed tears.

Buck needed to get out of there. Before someone saw him and he had to explain why he was there, outside Eddie’s room at just gone 2am, trying not to cry. Because I’m hopelessly in love with the man behind this door, and I can’t seem to find a way to exist any more without him was not a conversation he could have just then. It was too much.

And, more importantly, it was not what Eddie needed right now. Eddie had to focus on his recovery. Because Eddie, his Eddie, had been shot.

Suddenly, Buck was back in that street again. Watching the red mist explode from Eddie’s shoulder. Feeling the blood settle on his face. In his mouth.

Eddie’s blood.

Dammit. On cue, the metallic taste flooded Buck’s mouth. He gagged and his head swam. He moved, leaning now against the wall of the corridor rather than Eddie’s door. The world was liquid and moved in waves. He pressed his forehead to the wall, and he focused on the cool plaster against his skin.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Buck didn’t know how long he stood there, unmoving, in that quiet hospital hallway, trying not to let the waves drag him under.

Then there was a hand on his back. A voice. Questions. Concern.

The words didn’t really make much sense. He couldn’t seem to process them. But then a determined hand took his elbow and he was steered… somewhere. Time passed. He was being lowered into a hard plastic chair. A waiting room. A face in front of his own. The voice again. More questions. 

Something brought him back to himself. It took a while for him to work out what but, slowly, Buck became aware of a vibration in his pocket. His phone. Ringing but on silent. 

Because, hospital. 

“Maybe you should get that,” the voice said. “It’s been ringing for a few minutes. I think people are probably worrying about you.”

Buck looked up. Hmm. He knew the face in front of him. He knew the voice. Jamie, he remembered eventually. The nurse who had been so kind on the day Eddie was shot.

His phone buzzed again. Insistent. Angry.

“Do you want me to answer it?” Jamie asked carefully. “I can just tell whoever it is that you are here and safe. That we’ve got you and you're OK. Would that help?”

Buck nodded, words still too far away. He fished his phone from his pocket and passed it to Jamie with an unsteady hand. She looked at the screen.

"Chimney?” It was a question.

“Brother-in-law, kinda. Unofficial.” Buck managed. “Work together. Howard, really”.

Jamie nodded and answered the call. Instantly, there was a stream of words, tinny through the speaker on the phone. He couldn’t make out what was being said but Buck recognised Chim’s voice, heard the worry it carried. After a few seconds, Jamie coughed and interrupted.

“Howard? Hi, my name is Jamie. I’m a nurse on the team caring for Eddie Diaz. Mr Buckley is here at the hospital. He’s safe, though he seems a little… overwhelmed just now.”

A pause then Chim spoke again. Jamie frowned.

“No, he didn’t pass out. No, not a panic attack. He…” Another pause as Chim interrupted this time. Jamie’s frown deepened.

“OK. That’s… useful to know. I think we may want to give Mr Buckley… Oh, yeah, OK. Buck. We’ll give him a quick check to make sure he’s doing OK. How long… 30 minutes? OK, Howard… Chimney… see you shortly”.

She ended the call and turned back to Buck, who had the sinking feeling that his difficult night was going to get a whole lot worse. In about 30 mins.

Jamie was speaking to him again. Slowly. Quietly. Carefully.

“So, Howard said you’ve had a rough few days?”

Buck just nodded. The room was swirling liquid again, and nodding just made it worse.

"Is he mad?"

Jamie looked confused.

"Chimney. Is he mad at me? I just left without telling him, and he was staying because he didn't want me to be alone. So, I guess he must be angry with me".

"Oh, no. No, Buck. Howard... sorry, Chimney, just sounded really concerned. When I told him you were here and safe, he was so relieved. Kept thanking me for looking after you, and for letting him know. So, no, he's not mad. Not at all."

Well, that was something good at least. Buck hated that he'd worried Chim, but at least his friend wasn't mad at him. He would have hated that more.

"Um, I should go wait for him somewhere, probably."

“Actually, Buck, I think I’m gonna get you somewhere you can lay down for a minute. Maybe we can get you some fluids while we wait for your friend. What d’ya say?”

He was about to protest but, at that moment, was hit by a wave of fatigue. It was the middle of the night, Buck remembered. Lying down suddenly seemed like a great idea. Buck nodded again, regretting it immediately. 

“Be right back,” Jamie smiled, standing up and heading down the hallway. 

Buck took a deep breath. This was not going as he’d hoped. He was going to be in so much trouble. Angry faces floated through his mind. He saw them all, Chim, Bobby, Hen. Carla. Oh, God. Maddie. 

Eddie.

Eddie was probably going to be annoyed at him. Hell, Buck was annoyed at himself. How was he coping this badly? Nothing had actually happened to him. He was a grown man. A firefighter.

He just wanted to cry. 

Then Jamie was back.

“Come with me, Buck. I’ll get you settled while we wait for Howard”.

“Chimney” Buck corrected automatically.

“I’m guessing there’s a story there?”

“Not one I should share” Buck muttered, standing to follow Jamie. He was tired, so very tired. As he got to his feet, the motion of standing made the room seem to flow away from him. The world swirled around him. He reached out, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

“Buck, you good?” Jamie’s voice was closer now, but somehow also sounded further away. “You can sit back down, if you need a minute”.

Buck nodded, but that made the spinning worse. He wanted to sit for a moment, but his body didn’t want to cooperate. Tired. So tired. His body felt heavy but also far away, all at the same time. The world seemed to be narrowing, and all he could focus on was the point right in front of him. The rest was a dark blur. Then even what he could see began to fade. 

Grey, then white. 

Then nothing.

Awareness came back slowly.

Beeping. Hushed voices. He was in bed. Hospital. 

Cold. He was cold. The sheets were too thin and didn’t hold any warmth. 

There was warmth, though. A hand. Holding his. Large. Warm. Nice.

He wondered who it was, but the darkness reached out and reclaimed him before he could even open his eyes.

Awareness came back slowly. 

Beeping. Hushed voices. He was in bed. Hospital.

Buck opened his eyes. The room was light. Too bright. He blinked and tried to move his head. A jolt of pain flashed behind his eyes, and he let out a small breath of discomfort.

“Buck, you back with us?” The voice was warm, soft, urgent, worried.

Eddie. Eddie was there. Eddie was alive. Awake.

Buck turned his head, more slowly this time. Eddie, still in a hospital gown, sat in a chair he'd pulled close to Buck’s bed. The hand on his uninjured side held Buck’s own. 

His Eddie. Just for a moment, Buck wanted to let himself believe that.

But no, not his Eddie. He would never be his Eddie.

Still.

Eddie. There. Alive. Awake. 

Buck felt a tear escape down his cheek. Then another. He didn’t know why he was crying. Joy, or maybe relief, at seeing Eddie? Just sheer exhaustion? 

Maybe it was exhaustion, because Buck just couldn’t bring himself to move to wipe the tears away. He just let them fall.

Then he felt gentle fingers brushing them away, and Buck realised too late that Eddie’s hand was gone from his own. He wanted to move, to reclaim its lost warmth, but Eddie’s soft touch against his cheeks made his heart flutter. His breath hitched as the electricity of that touch ran through him.

“Buck,” Eddie said gently. “It’s OK. You’re OK”.

But Buck didn’t think he could ever be OK again. The feel of Eddie’s hand in his. The touch of Eddie’s fingers to Buck’s cheek. How could Buck keep pretending he didn’t love this man? 

A vague memory of a conversation with Chim came back to him. Maybe he’d never been that good at pretending anyway.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asked, in the same soft voice. “You gave us all a scare. I’ve never seen Chim so worried. He and Maddie were here all day. Bobby too. Right up until visiting hours ended. They’ll be so sorry they weren’t here when you woke up”.

Buck’s jumbled thoughts were slowly falling into some sort of order. He was trying to put everything together in his head. Trying to find his words.

“How long was I out?” he finally managed.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at that and quirked a half smile. “Normally, you lead with What happened? I guess you know that already this time. Which is probably a good sign. You’ve been out for a little over seventeen hours, buddy.”

Seventeen. Hours. 

Buck stared at Eddie for a long moment.

“Did… did they give me something?”

Eddie sighed. “No. They didn’t have to. They did hook you up to an IV for fluids and electrolytes. Because, for some reason no one seems to want to tell me, you came here in the middle of the night and then collapsed. So I’m gonna ask again, how are you feeling?”

Buck thought about it.

He was feeling… wrung out, exhausted. But, somehow, better. Maybe it was the sleep, maybe it was the IV. 

Maybe it was Eddie.

He felt his face flush at the thought, and his heart rate picked up. He pointedly ignored the way the heart monitor he was attached to shared this with the world.

“M’fine, Eddie”.

Eddie gave him a look Buck recognised as his Yeah, I’m not gonna fall for that look. He’d seen Eddie use it on Christopher countless times. Hell, Eddie had used it on Buck a fair amount.

“No, really. I’ve just…” he scrambled for a reasonable explanation. “I’ve just been overdoing it a little.”

Buck saw Eddie’s eyes tighten, saw his mouth harden into a thin line, lips pressed together. He looked angry.

When he spoke, though, his voice was steady.

“Buck, you’ve been in this bed, dead to the world, for most of a day. Do you really think I don’t know there’s something going on? I’ve tried to talk to Maddie, to Chim, to Hen, to Bobby. They all tried to downplay it, but it’s clear how worried they are. But they won’t tell me why. Apparently I’m supposed to focus on my own recovery. But they knew I’d have to have questions when I woke up to find my best friend was unconscious in a room down the hall. We both know I’m not going to let this go, not without understanding what’s going on with you. So, to skip to the good stuff, I obviously know you aren’t fine. People who are actually fine pass out less. I did find out from our good friend Chimney that you managed to do that three separate times yesterday. The last time while you were here at the hospital, conveniently enough. Chim also said you vanished from the house in the middle of the night without telling anyone where you were going. Because that’s a normal thing to do too.”

Buck looked mortified and made a silent promise to have words with Chim when the opportunity arose.

Eddie must have read his mind because he followed up with, “Don’t blame Chimney, by the way. I found him at a weak moment, first thing this morning. I think he’d been up half the night worrying about you. And worrying about what Maddie was going to say when she found out he lost you for a while. He just kinda freaked out and was stressing that you had passed out again. He just held your hand and talked to you, You weren’t awake to hear him, and I’m not sure he even realised he was actually talking out loud. He said, and I quote, "I told you three times would win you a trip to the hospital. You didn't have to actually go for the prize, idiot." It was kinda sweet, in a Chimney kinda way. Then I heard him trying to explain to Maddie about how you ended up here. There are still some gaps about why, but I at least got the basic shape of what happened.”

Eddie squeezed Buck’s hand again, and gave him a quick smile.

“You were coming to check on me, I think?"

Buck swallowed. "Needed to see you, Eds" he said quietly.

"Then you...?"

"Felt dizzy. Don't remember after that", Buck said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Eddie frowned disapprovingly.

"You fainted, Buck. What I don't know is why. Talk to me, Buck. Tell me what’s going on with you. Let me help you.”

Buck actually let out a snort of laughter at that. Eddie looked at him, part puzzled, part offended.

“Sorry Eddie, but you have to see that this is ridiculous. You’ve been shot, for Pete’s sake. I just had a dizzy spell in a hospital corridor. It’s not the same. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around. You and Chris.”

Then, as his thoughts started to catch up with him, Buck suddenly sat up, swaying slightly, light headed at the movement. 

Eddie reached out his good arm to steady him.

“Buck, take it easy. You…”

But Buck interrupted him, his voice now panicky and urgent.

“Christopher. Who has Chris, Eddie? Chimney was at the house, but if he was here…”

“Hey, hey. Stop. Chris is fine. He’s good. He was at Hen’s last night. Sleepover. Remember? She brought him in this morning, while you were still out. It was… just everything… to see him. I think he’s more worried about you than he is about me at this point. But he’s good. Thanks to you. You took good care of him.”

Eddie’s eyes burned with emotion as he added. “Better care than you took of yourself, it seems.”

Buck slumped back into the pillows. He wanted to argue but somehow he was still so tired. His whole body felt leaden.

“I tried Eddie. I really did.”

Another tear escaped and slid down Buck’s face. 

“Hey,” Eddie said gently. “It's OK. No more of that. You're gonna be OK. I'm here with you and we'll work it out. Whatever you need, I'm going to be right there with you. Like you always are for me".

And, for the first time since the shooting, Buck felt like everything really was going to be fine. Eddie was here, and in his corner. Everything else would work out.

But almost instantly, Eddie poured cold water on Buck's hopes. Almost literally.

"Here, Buck, you much be thirsty. Have some water.” 

No. Nope. He couldn't do that. He couldn't bear that awful metallic taste, the taste of blood, anymore.

Eddie's blood.

He just couldn't have that taste in his mouth, not with Eddie right there.

Buck paled at the very thought. “Nah, Eds. I’m fine.”

“Seriously, I heard the nurses say you were severely dehydrated. Which is probably part of the reason you passed out. You know you gotta drink, buddy.”

“Really, Eddie. No. I’m good. Just... drop it.”

“Sorry, Bud. No can do." Eddie was using his Dad voice on Buck. Equal parts stern, caring and reasonable. "Remember, I’m a medic too, so if you won’t listen to me as your friend, I’m gonna have to…”

“Eddie, just stop. Please. I… I can’t.” Buck had turned away and his voice was barely above a whisper. Eddie saw he was shaking and he realised with horror that Buck was about to cry.

“No, Buck. No. It’s OK. I'm sorry. Don’t… just breathe with me. You’re OK.”

Eyes closed, jaw clenched, Buck looked like he was in real distress. Eddie’s heart ached to see his friend struggle so much, but he just didn’t understand what was going on. Eddie’s mind was running a mile a minute so it took him a moment to realise Buck was still crying. He was heaving silent, heartbreaking sobs that seemed to take all the energy he had left.

Cursing his useless arm, Eddie moved as close as he could and reached out for Buck. If he had only been able to, Eddie would have taken Buck into his arms and held him till the storm of his weeping passed.

In truth, Eddie yearned to hold Buck, to protect him from whatever life tried to hurt him with. Life had done more than enough to Evan Buckley, and it tore at Eddie's heart to know he was at least in part responsible for what Buck was currently going through. It had to be linked to the shooting, and that was not OK with Eddie. 

Because, despite what certain of his colleagues might think, Edmundo Diaz was not a total idiot. He also had more self-awareness than they gave him credit for. He knew his feelings for Buck had long since moved beyond friendship. He loved his loyal, beautiful, headstrong best friend. Loved him in an all-consuming way he'd never experienced before. He wasn’t sure what this meant for his own sexuality. Not being 100% straight wasn’t a total shock, especially if he reflected on some of the friendships he'd had in college, and the academy. But it had never really gone much deeper than vague possibilities. He hadn't exactly ignored this aspect of his sexual identity. He just hadn't felt like putting a label on it. There had never been anything real enough to explore. Not till Buck came into his life, and Eddie slowly fell under his spell. Over time, he'd come to understand that Evan Buckley was the light at the centre of his world. And that was very real.

Sill, Eddie hadn’t been ready to talk to Buck about how he felt. He didn't want to create tension in their friendship by sharing unrequited feelings. This was for him to work through. For him to deal with. He wouldn't make life difficult for the best friend he knew couldn't feel the same.

But seeing Buck like this had stirred a wave of protective feelings and, frankly, a level of need that Eddie wasn’t prepared for.

So, yes, Eddie wanted nothing more than to pull Buck into his arms and hold him till he knew he was safe and loved. Hampered by his own injuries, though, all Eddie could do was press as close to Buck’s side as he could, and splay his hand across Buck’s chest in what he hoped was a grounding way.

“It’s OK, Buck. Evan. It’s OK. I’m here. I got you.”

Slowly, Eddie felt Buck’s breathing level out. He watched as Buck’s tense frame softened and relaxed.

"M'sorry Eddie". Buck's voice was blurred with exhaustion. 

He saw the exact moment Buck passed from wakefulness into… sleep? Unconsciousness? It was hard to tell. Either way, Buck’s exhaustion had reclaimed him.

"Oh, Evan," Eddie said, resting his forehead on Buck's shoulder for a moment before the tension in his wound forced him upright. "What am I going to do with you?"

“He’s really struggling” Jamie’s voice said from the doorway. “You were so good with him, just then. Good at calming him down, I mean. Making him feel safe”.

Eddie let out a brief humourless laugh. “I’ve been calming that idiot down for years”. His words might have carried a bite if not for the very soft tone of voice used to deliver them. “He does the same for me.” Eddie leaned in a little and stroked Buck’s face, his thumb ghosting over the unusually pale birthmark at his temple. “We're each other’s safe harbour”. 

Jamie gave him a smile, and then her eyes narrowed to a pointed look. 

“You know visiting hours apply to you too, right? I just went to check in on you and take some readings and you’d… vanished. I mean, it didn’t take a genius detective to work out where you were, to be honest. But it would be remiss of me not to remind you that you were just shot and, while you may want to be here with your friend, we need to take care of you too.”

Eddie hummed a non-response. Then he said softly “What’s going on with him? He's so obviously exhausted, and just freaked out when I offered him water.”

Jamie pursed her lips.

“You know I can’t share his medical info. Not without permission.”

Eddie looked like he was going to argue, but Jamie held up her hand.

“I can’t and I won’t. But,” she paused, looking thoughtful, “I can tell you about the first time I met Mr Buckley. Buck, I mean.”

A confused look passed over Eddie’s face.

“Didn’t you just meet him tonight? When he…”

“Collapsed in my arms?” Jamie smiled ruefully. “No. I first met him when he came in with you. When you were admitted. The day... you know, the day you were shot”

Eddie frowned at that. He hadn’t really had time to think that much about what happened when he was unconscious. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to think about it. He’d been shot. Then he’d woken up in hospital. What more did he need to know? Nothing good could have happened, and he wanted to spare himself the details of how close he came to, well... He wanted to spare himself the details. Leave it at that.

But of course, there was a lot of time between those two events. And things will have happened to other people, not just himself. Things will have happened to Buck.

Maybe he did need to know what happened between the last thing he remembered before the shooting and waking up in the ICU. After all, he did wake up. How bad could it be?

He gritted his teeth.

“Tell me. Please?”

“Only if you come back to your room, and get back in bed. He's probably out till morning, now, and you need rest too. You can come visit again, after he wakes up.”

With a sigh, Eddie nodded. He knew that Jamie was right. He gave Buck’s hand a last squeeze then, without thinking, raised it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. Buck didn't even stir.

“Sleep, Evan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jamie gave him a knowing smile. Then she reached for something just outside Buck’s door, and pulled a wheelchair into view.

“Ta-da!” 

“Really?” Eddie sighed.

“Really” Jamie shot back quietly, wheeling the chair next to Eddie.

Eddie sighed again, then manoeuvred himself into the wheelchair she had parked so conveniently close.  

“OK” he indicated the handles, then looked back at her. “Push and talk, lady. Push and talk.”

She laughed softly, taking care not to disturb Buck.

Once they were out in the corridor, Jamie asked carefully “What do you remember? About the shooting?”

Eddie sucked in a breath. 

“Not much. We were by the firetruck, talking…”

Buck. He’d been talking with Buck. Buck had been right there. Eddie swallowed.

“He was there. Buck, I mean. Close. Was he hurt? Hit?”

The panic in Eddie’s voice was plain. It was one thing that he’d been shot, but the thought of Buck being hit was unbearable. There hadn't been any visible wounds, but what if...

Jamie put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“No, Eddie. Don't worry. He wasn’t shot. He… was with you, though. He was close when you were hit. Too close, really.” She paused. “I came across him in the waiting room. He was… well, he wasn’t doing well. In shock. Not really present at all. He was just sitting there, covered in blood…”

Eddie’s sharp gasp interrupted her.

“What? You said…”

“It was your blood, Eddie. There was a lot of it. It was… everywhere. At first, I thought he had to be hurt. He had blood on his clothes, his hands.” She swallowed. “Eddie, it was on his face, in his hair.”

A wounded noise escaped Eddie’s throat, but he didn't interrupt.

“I… after… I spoke to one of the other first responders who came in with you. A Captain Mehta? Mr Buckley…”

“Buck” Eddie cut in, gently. “He likes Buck.”

Jamie nodded. “I remember. Sorry. Buck was close to you, very close, when it happened. He got you to safety. Loaded you into the firetruck. Stopped your wound bleeding. He’s a huge part of the reason you’re here now, you know.”

“God, he did all that?” Eddie’s voice shook. “He… saved me?”

“Yeah. You should talk to Captain Mehta to get the full story, if you want it. I think it might help. Both of you. So, no, he wasn’t shot. A lot of the blood he had on him was from working on you on the way in. Some, though, was because he was so close to you. When it happened.”

Eddie closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for Buck. He tried to picture how it would feel if their places were swapped. How would he react to Buck, his Buck, being shot right in front of him? He didn’t know.

He realised they’d reached his room. Jamie was still talking as they moved inside.

“He’d obviously been in control at the scene, and in the truck on the way here. By the time I saw him in the waiting room, though, he was just so out of it. Like I said, I couldn’t believe someone could have that much blood on them and not be hurt. I asked to check him out, but he couldn’t really process what I was saying. Then your captain arrived.”

“Bobby” Eddie breathed. Bobby would have been just who Buck needed. He wished it could have been him looking after Buck, but he was glad Bobby had been there.

“Yeah. Bobby helped Buck shower and change. He was more with it after that, and I got to check him out properly. Physically, other than a few scapes to his hands from crawling to you underneath the firetruck…”

“What? He did what?”

Jamie looked surprised at the shock on Eddie’s face, like that wasn’t the part of the story she’d expected to hit hard.

“He crawled under the firetruck to get you. But, he only grazed his hands, and only very slightly…”

“My god.”

Eddie's eyes were wet with unspilt tears now.

“I don’t understand…” Jamie’s confusion was obvious.

“He was crushed. By a firetruck. His leg was, I mean. There was a bomb, a couple of years back. He… he had nightmares for months about it. That and the tsunami.”

Jamie visibly paled.

“He was caught in that too. Him and Christopher. My son.” Eddie rubbed at his cheek, dashing away a tear that had slipped down his cheek. “They both survived. Thanks to Buck. He saved me that day, too, by bringing Chris home. And he saved a whole bunch of other people, pulling them out of the water onto a firetruck of all things. All while he was still on sick leave after throwing a blood clot at a party in his honour, nearly dying in our captain's back yard, and being put on blood thinners.”

A humourless chuckle from Eddie surprised Jamie. 

“There were a few months back then when he just seemed determined to die on me. He’s been through so much. And now this. Whatever this is.”

Almost to himself, Eddie added in a quiet voice “I can’t believe he did all that for me. I can’t believe he saved me again”.

Jamie had turned serious. 

“I think we might have underestimated just how much this trauma was going to impact on Mr Buckley - Buck. We’ll see how he is tomorrow, but given that history, I’m not surprised at all that this hit him so hard.”

Eddie laughed that humorless laugh again.  

“Buck has a major in dealing with trauma. He’s been trained in it since childhood. I think I need to talk to Bobby and to Chimney, especially, tomorrow. I need to understand what’s going on here. I know you can’t tell me, but I’m damned sure I can make one of them tell me why he’s like this.”

“Tomorrow”, Jamie said firmly, helping Eddie from the chair and into bed. “For now, you can relax because Buck is safe. Now, you sleep”.

“What time can I see him in the morning?” 

“Rounds are 8.00am to 9.30am. You should be able to see him after that. As long as you tell someone where you are going and wait for them to find you a wheelchair. No more wandering the corridors, Mr Diaz.”

“Fine”. Though the grumpy tone of voice Eddie used  showed he didn’t think it was fine at all.

Jamie laughed at him. “Night Eddie”.

“Night. And Jamie? Thank you. I need to know what’s going on with him so I can help him. He does so much for everyone. He’s saved my life so many times. He’s my best friend. I… I can’t let him face whatever this is alone.”

A look of quiet understanding passed over Jamie’s face. 

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you” she said as she moved to the door, ready to leave Eddie to get some rest. 

“No,” Eddie replied, his eyes bright with emotion. “I’m the lucky one". 

Chapter Text

When Buck blinked awake, his mind felt clearer than it had for days.

He was alone. He didn’t really know why he’d expected anything else, but he felt Eddie’s absence like a loss. 

Which was ridiculous. Why would Eddie spend the night at Buck’s bedside? That was the kind of thing Buck would do, not a normal, rational human being like Eddie.

Eddie would be in bed. Asleep. Healing.

Buck turned over on to his side and searched the nightstand for his phone. Finding it, he checked the time.

6.23am. Morning again. Early.

Glancing at the window, Buck realised he had woken in time to catch the tail end of the sunrise. That magic period where the morning sun painted everything golden. Buck loved this time of day. It felt clean. New. Hopeful.

And Buck felt he was due some hope.

Knowing there was no chance he would go back to sleep, Buck struggled into a sitting position. While mentally he felt almost like himself again, his body still felt drained. Buck realised just how long it had been since he’d eaten, and managed to keep down, proper food. He also realised something else. Thanks to all the IV fluids he’d been given, he had been woken by a pressing need to go to the bathroom. 

He sighed. That would mean moving, and he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t that he was comfortable, exactly. He’d never actually been comfortable in a hospital bed. But he was at rest. And moving would take energy Buck didn’t think he had.

Still, his need was getting… more pressing. He swung his legs round to dangle off the side of the bed, automatically pausing a moment for the light headedness to pass.

Oh. Buck thought. That wasn’t good.

His body had automatically waited for the dizziness to hit, accepting that it would happen. Expecting it would happen. Buck didn’t like the idea that this was becoming… normal, and that the light headedness was a symptom of weakness that his body now knew it should expect.

Weakness.

The word crashed through him. It was weakness. An inability to cope. To process. It would be almost laughable if it wasn’t so tragic.

Tragic.

Evan Buckley. Weak and tragic. Yup. That about summed it up. He was in love with his best friend. Deeply in love. Despite knowing in his heart that Eddie could never love him back. Not like that. Yet Buck couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t move past it.

Weak. Tragic. In love with his best friend.

He was in hospital because those things combined had messed with his head so badly it had stopped him being able to eat and drink. He’d fixated on Eddie being shot to the point where he couldn’t help his best friend and even made him part of the problem.

Yeah. Very tragic. Tragic, tragic, tragic…

Buck closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathing slowly to the count, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He pushed up from the bed and stood. Again, his body tensed, ready to ride the fresh wave of giddiness. After a moment, when the world had settled, Buck made his way to the bathroom.

Once done, he contemplated getting back into bed. It was still early. Too early for visiting hours. But he could feel a pull, almost like magnetism or gravity, coming from the direction of Eddie's room. Sensibly, he knew Eddie wasn’t here because he would be in bed, like he should be.

It had been such a relief to see Eddie yesterday, to know he was doing OK. 

But what if Eddie wasn’t doing OK? He had just been shot, after all. He had seemed OK yesterday, but that was yesterday. Things change. Buck was right there and could quickly check on him. Where would the harm be in that?

Slipping on his slides, and grateful he was in sweats and not a hospital gown, Buck headed for the door. Once in the corridor, he realised just how close to Eddie’s room he was. It would only take a moment to check on him and then sneak back to his own bed.

The hospital was still waking up as Buck moved down the hallway. Rounds hadn’t started yet, neither had the breakfast service, and the nursing staff on duty were mostly nearing the end of their very long shifts. He was undisturbed and unchallenged as he made his way to see Eddie.

It wasn’t far, but the short walk took more out of Buck than he’d been expecting. By the time he stood outside Eddie’s room, he was tired and was moving much more slowly than he normally would. Still, he’d made it. Quietly pushing the door open, Buck stood at the threshold, taking a moment to steady himself. Then he slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

Eddie was sleeping. 

Buck always marvelled at just how young Eddie looked when he was asleep. Awake, he was Eddie Diaz, father, firefighter, veteran. Survivor. He carried life’s tensions more lightly these days, but Buck knew every inch of Eddie. He saw the tightness in his shoulders, in his clenched jaw, and in his careful eyes. Always alert, aware, ready.

Asleep, he was just Eddie. His Eddie.

No. Not his Eddie. Not in that way. Tragic and weak, remember?

Eddie asleep was beautiful in a different way than Eddie awake. 

Relaxed. Human. Peaceful.

And, asleep or awake, Buck was in love with him. There had never been a thought that was so simple yet so complicated.

Moving slowly across the room, Buck tried to ignore the exhaustion weighing down his body, triggered by a short walk down the hall. Taking care to make no noise, intent on not waking Eddie, Buck sat in the chair closest to the bed, sighing silently as he settled.

Buck took a moment to look at Eddie. To really look at him.

Though he was sleeping, Eddie looked tired. Dark smudges sat under his eyes like bruises. He was still paler than Buck would like, his normally golden olive skin overlaid with a worrying tinge of grey. He did look better than the last time Buck visited, however, and Buck would take that as a win. And Eddie was awake. Not in that moment, of course, but this was purely sleep and not any darker lack of consciousness. Eddie had woken up and Buck had spoken to him, had seen those beautiful eyes so full of life.

Eddie was going to be OK.

Looking at him now, Buck's mind raced with conflicting and overlapping memories. Eddie at work, joking in the kitchen. Eddie at home, helping Chris with his homework. Eddie out for a drink with Buck, sitting across from him, beautiful in the dim light of their favorite bar. Buck trying desperately not to show how much he wanted to kiss his straight best friend and co-worker.

Eddie looking at him with frightened eyes as Buck coughed up blood in Athena’s back yard. Eddie cold and shaking having pulled himself out of the clutches of a collapsed well. Eddie clinging to Christopher after Maria had saved him from the water. When Buck had failed them.

Eddie lying in the street in a pool of his own blood.

Eddie dying in the street in a pool of his own blood.

Buck tried to clear that image from his head but, in his mind, the shooting played again and again on repeat. Eddie. The air filled with blood. Eddie falling. Eddie bleeding. The light fading from his eyes.

The memory was consuming him. Suddenly his mouth filled with the taste of blood. 

Eddie’s blood.

Buck just wanted to scream in frustration. How was he ever to be free of this? How would he ever get back to normal?

Would he get back to normal? It had been days now. He wasn’t sure he remembered how normal felt. But the alternative was… well… just unthinkable. How could he do his job, how could he survive, if he couldn’t manage to eat or drink like he needed to?

Buck knew he needed help. Professional help. He’d make an appointment with one of the department’s counselors and see if they could help. He really hoped they would.

He looked again at Eddie, peaceful Eddie, and he knew that he shouldn’t cause Eddie Diaz a single moment more of worry. He shouldn’t let his trauma impact on Eddie’s healing. Eddie didn’t need to know just how much Buck was struggling. He’d get a handle on things, and still be able to help Eddie with his recovery. 

He just needed to take a little time and ask for some help. 

Two things he was not really known for. 

He could almost see Bobby rolling his eyes. Still, Buck knew he couldn’t keep pretending to be fine. He wasn’t fine.

And he had to be fine if he was going to help Eddie. And, to Buck, being able to help Eddie was the most important thing in the world. 

But he wasn’t ready yet. And until then, he had to give Eddie space, room to heal, without his drama making it harder.

Leaning in towards his sleeping friend, Buck pressed the lightest of kisses to Eddie’s forehead, very carefully so as not to wake him. Turning away, Buck didn’t see the half smile that came briefly to Eddie’s face even in sleep.

He stood, again braced and ready for the wave of dizziness to hit. This time felt… different. The world seemed far away for a moment, and the room ebbed round him like water. Once everything settled, he gave Eddie one last look, filled with love and longing, then left the room.

The hospital was more awake now, with more people, more chatter. It felt a little overwhelming to Buck. He considered returning to his room, but the thought of going back to that bright, white, soulless cell was unbearable. Instead, Buck headed the other way, out through a set of external doors and into the hospital garden. The space was designed to be a place of calm for patients and visitors, and Buck felt he could use some of that calming energy to settle his thoughts.

He had the garden to himself, given the hour. The morning was still cool and crisp, but it was easy to tell it was going to be another beautiful LA day. Buck walked through the space, his unseeing eyes passing over the flowers and greenery, as the fresh air helped him to finally quiet his mind.

His body was less willing to cooperate. 

As he walked, the feeling of being… adrift… returned. Buck felt suddenly unsteady, the smooth path tilting underneath him as his shaking steps faltered. Making for a bench a couple of paces away, Buck sat down gratefully. He stretched his  long legs out in front of him, and he tipped his head back, eyes fixed on the clear blue morning sky. 

That, at least, seemed steady. 

As he watched, a plane painted its white trail across the rich blue canvas, and he wondered where the people on board were going. Vacation? Business trips? Travelling to see family? Absently, Buck wondered what it would be like to have family to travel with. Maybe he could ask Eddie and Chris if they wanted to… No. That was overstepping. But Eddie should definitely take Chris on a trip once he had recovered. Somewhere nice. Warm for Eddie, interesting for Chris. Maybe Buck could help plan something with them? Maybe Eddie would send him photos. Maybe…

Buck didn’t even feel it as his eyes drifted closed, and his body, drained of all its energy, slid once more into darkness.

Eddie was shocked awake by a frantic Chimney bursting into his room. It took a second for Eddie to orient himself. Hospital. Gunshot wound. Right. But he was on the mend, so what had his friend so worked up? 

“Chim, what the hell?” Eddie groaned, sitting up too quickly and pulling at the wound in his shoulder. He winced as a stab of pain shot through him.

Then Eddie when cold as he saw the fear and panic on his friend’s face as his eyes searched the room, obviously not finding what he was looking for.

“What…” Then Eddie understood. Buck.

“What happened, Chim? Is… is he OK?” Eddie could hear the fear in his own words. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie watched Chimney trying and failing to control his emotions. He looked terrified. And exhausted. Yet he still tried to put on a front for Eddie.

“It’s OK, Eddie. Nothing for you to worry about.”

But the lie of those words was in Chim’s eyes. Eddie’s pulse quickened.

“Howard Han, for the love of everything you hold dear, if you don’t tell me what is going on right now I’ll… I’ll…” 

But Eddie had no meaningful threat to offer. Nothing he could use as leverage. 

Deflating, he said more quietly “I know you think you’re protecting me, maybe both of us, but I cannot bear not knowing what’s wrong with him. It’s hurting me, Chim. It scares me. So please. Tell me. I need this, I need to help him if I can.”

“You’d have to find him first” Chimney muttered, running a hand through his hair in the way he only did when very worried or stressed. He stilled when he realised what he’d said.

“What do you mean, Chim? He was here. Yesterday. Last night. I saw him. He should be in his room, down the hall. He... he was asleep.” 

“Yeah, that’s where he should be, Eddie. And he was. The nurses kept an eye on him all night. But, this morning, when the nurse went to check on him after their shift change at 7am, he was gone. I got here not long after. I wanted to check in on him on my way into work. When they told me he was missing, I thought… well, hoped…”

Eddie finished the thought. “You hoped he would be here.”

“It made sense,” Chim said. “I mean, he came all the way across town to see you in the middle of the night. Why would he not take a quick, early morning walk down the corridor?”

“But he’s not here,” Eddie said, feeling the words catch in his throat. “So where has he gone?” he whispered.

Chim just shook his head. “I don’t know, Eddie. But we will find him.”

We have to find him, Eddie thought. I need to find him. And Eddie Diaz started to truly panic.  

“Buck passed out,” he said, frantically. “Before, I mean. Why?”

The question hung in the air. Then Chim sighed. 

“Lack of food, dehydration, lack of sleep. Overexertion. But at least he’s slept now, and he’s had IV fluids, thought I’m sure he needs more. The real issue is the lack of food for so long.”

What? Eddie didn’t understand. What the hell? Buck wasn’t eating? Why not? 

Then his first responder instincts kicked in and Eddie realised that those questions, though they were really important, could wait. The only thing that mattered in that moment was finding Buck and making sure he was safe.

Eddie tried to focus.

“Chim, him not eating. Is that still a problem?”

The defeated look on Chim’s face told Eddie all he needed to hear. It didn’t help with the growing anxiety, a raw feeling that was clawing its way through Eddie's chest.

“So, he could have collapsed again. He could be anywhere, Chimney. Unconscious. He could have hit his head. He could be…”

Chimney gripped Eddie’s hand. 

“Eddie, look at me. You have to calm down. This isn’t good for you or your recovery. It’s why we didn’t tell you. We’ll find him.”

Eddie held Chim’s gaze, swallowed, then nodded. He swung his legs round and struggled out of bed, grunting a little with pain from the impact as his feet hit the floor.

“Damn right we’ll find him.”

“No, Eddie, no! You need to…”

“I need to find him, Chim. And you’ve lost him twice now so, and I say this with respect, I’m not trusting you with this, I’m afraid. I’m not trusting anyone else with this. With him. It’s too important. He’s too important.”

There was an unshakable determination to Eddie's words, and Chim could see it was futile to argue. 

He also heard what Eddie left unsaid.

He’s too important to me.

As Eddie pushed his feet into his sneakers, Chim’s phone rang. He turned away to answer, and Eddie took stock, cursing the fact he was still in his hospital gown. He did at least have some gym shorts underneath but, as clothing to go look for the man you are secretly in love with, it left a lot to be desired.

Then Chim’s side of his phone conversation broke through into Eddie’s consciousness.

“Where? Is he OK? Did he…? OK. That’s good. That’s great. Thank you. OK. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Chim hung up and turned back to see Eddie watching him. 

“Well?”

Relief showed in Chimney’s face. He let out a long breath and all the tension seemed to drain from his body. Slumping into one of the chairs near Eddie’s bed, he put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands.

“They found him. In the hospital garden. On one of the benches. Asleep”. Chim actually managed a quiet laugh, his relief still obvious. “That kid is gonna be the death of me.” He looked at Eddie, eyes serious. “I don’t know how you cope with it, Eddie. How do you deal with him being in danger pretty much all the time?” He paused, then started in a tight voice “When Doug took Maddie…”

But Chim couldn’t finish that thought, and lapsed into silence. Eddie could see how shaken he was, despite how hard he was trying to cover it. It was also not lost on Eddien that Chim had compared Eddie’s feelings for Buck with his own for Maddie. Eddie felt seen, but he knew he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He did love Evan Buckley. And he obviously wasn’t subtle about it. Maybe this whole difficult episode was the push he needed to tell Buck how he felt. 

No time like the present, Eddie thought nervously.

Then Chim pulled himself together and said “I should go and retrieve your wandering Buckley. I’ll make sure he gets back to his room. You can get back in bed…”

But Eddie was shaking his head, already moving to the door.

“You have to be kidding, Chim, if you think I’m waiting here. I’m going to go and find him myself. I need to see he’s OK. And you look like you could use a minute.” As Eddie opened the door he looked back at Chimney. “This is how I cope, by the way. As much as anyone can cope with being… friends… with Evan Buckley.  I check in. We text, we call, but, more than anything, it helps to be with him. To actually see he’s OK, to be able to physically check him over. To have tangible proof that he’s survived the latest chaos and drama. And there is so much chaos and drama, you’re right. It’s like Buck is a chaos demon, moving through life by bouncing from danger, to threat, to trauma, to crisis. It feels almost like a miracle every day he makes it home. But, for all that, he’s still the steadiest person in my life.”

Lowering his eyes, Eddie’s vice was thick with emotion. “He always manages to save me, Chim. He did it in the street when I was shot. He did it on a pier, surrounded by the ocean, by bringing Christopher home. He’s the rock I build my life on. I can’t do this without him. I would never want to.”

Chimney stood and pulled Eddie into a gentle hug, mindful of his injured shoulder.

“You should tell him that, Eddie. I’m not sure he understands.”

“I will, Chimney. I will”.

Chapter Text

A surprisingly short time later, Eddie jogged through the sliding doors and out into the fresh air of the hospital garden. He’d made it at as close to a run as his injury had allowed. By the time he arrived  he was a little breathless but desperate to set eyes on Buck.  

He’d almost expected to meet Buck coming the other way, a sheepish grin on his face while an exasperated nurse dragged him back to his room. He didn’t, however, and Eddie tried not to let that worry him. Buck was probably still waking up properly. Maybe he’d just needed to take his time. 

Hell, maybe he was completely fine and was just taking the moment to enjoy the morning sunshine.

Yeah, right.

Eddie just needed to see him. He needed to check for himself that Buck was OK.

Though he’d walked past the doors several times previously, Eddie had never actually been in the hospital garden before. He’d wondered how he was going to find Buck, but he needn't have worried. As soon as he stepped outside, Eddie’s attention was drawn to a commotion, with a professional but urgent voice cutting through the morning stillness.

Eddie hurried over with a sinking feeling, already expecting that Buck would be at the centre of whatever was happening.

And, of course, he was. 

Buck was sitting, leaning back till he was almost horizontal, on one of the garden’s wooden benches. His long legs stretched out in front of him. His head was resting against the back of the bench, his dirty blonde curls framing a face that was tipped skywards. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even and regular. 

Buck was still asleep. For a moment Eddie was relieved, until he took in the rest of the scene. 

An orderly stood at Buck’s shoulder and a nurse was kneeling in front of him. She was talking to Buck, her voice loud but measured. Eddie recognised that tone. He’d used it himself countless times. It was designed to cut through the heaviest of sleep when there was a real need for a patient to wake up.

“Mr Buckley? Evan? Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes for me.”

Something tightened in Eddie’s chest. 

Buck wasn’t waking up. Why wasn’t he waking up? 

Chim had said Buck was asleep. So, if he was asleep, he should just be able to wake up. Right?

But Buck didn’t wake up. 

Not when the nurse called his name. Not when the orderly gently shook his shoulder. 

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with him? Why can’t you wake him up?” The panicked questions poured from Eddie, as he also dropped to his knees in front of Buck.

“Mr Diaz, please. I’ve got this,” the nurse, Kayla, he remembered, said firmly but not unkindly. “Please give us a little room.”

Yeah, like Eddie was going to comply with that request.

“You need to…” he started, but he was interrupted.

“Eddie, man, you have to let her work.” Chim’s voice. Chim’s gentle but firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly. He must have followed Eddie, though Eddie had been far too focused on reaching Buck to notice. “You’re a patient here, not a first responder. She has him. He’s going to be fine”.

He’s going to be fine.

And oh, how Eddie needed Buck to be fine.

Eddie didn’t think he would cope if Buck wasn’t fine.

He desperately wanted to help, to take over, to be the one to wake Buck. But Chim was right. He was a patient, and this was Kayla’s job. From what he’d seen of her in action, he knew she was very good at it. He just had to trust her.

Trust her. With his best friend. The best man Eddie had ever known. The man he was secretly in love with.

It wasn’t easy. Eddie didn’t really trust people he didn’t know at the best of times, and Buck was Eddie’s heart.

And these were decidedly not the best of times.

The only person who could make things better was laying almost horizontally on the bench in front of him, seemingly dead to the world. 

It was just not acceptable. Eddie needed Buck to wake up. Now, if at all possible. Standing and taking a step back, Eddie watched as Kayla leaned in and squeezed Buck’s trapezius muscle at his shoulder. This was a protocol Eddie knew and had followed himself numerous times with patients who proved difficult to wake. Pain acted as a stimulus, to bring someone back to consciousness.

Eddie felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched, counting the seconds in his head, measuring their rhythm like a heartbeat.

After a few moments that seemed to Eddie like a lifetime, Buck shifted on the bench, automatically shying away from the pressure near his neck. Then he blinked his eyes open.

Ocean blue eyes met Eddie’s brown ones. 

And Eddie realised he could breathe again.

Buck woke up with the sun still warming his face. He’d felt so at peace. But now there was… pain? Yes. Pain. In his shoulder. And voices, he realised. People. Close by. He forced himself to focus. Faces. A nurse. Kayla? Leaning in. Talking to him. Asking questions he couldn’t quite process. Then, behind her, other people. People he knew. Chim. Eddie.

Eddie.

Their eyes held for a moment, before Buck dropped his gaze. Buck realised they all looked worried. Eddie was worried. He just didn’t know why. 

Oh, maybe he did. 

He’d left his room without telling anyone and… then what…? Fallen asleep outside…? Not good. He was probably in trouble. Who knew how long they had spent looking for him.

He looked back at Eddie and, oh… yes… Eddie was up and around. That was good. That was progress. Because… why was it progress? Oh, yeah. Eddie was shot.

Weird. Buck knew he should feel something about that but he… couldn’t seem to stop his thoughts from drifting. It was an odd, confused feeling. What had he been…?

Eddie. Eddie got shot. He was hurt. It was bad Eddie got hurt, and good that he was now getting better. Because Eddie mattered. He was important. He…

And then Buck noticed how blue the sky was. Had it always been that blue? It was beautiful. So beautiful. Beautiful like Eddie. Beautiful like his eyes. Like his smile. Like…

“Mr Buckley. Buck. You need to stay awake for me.” The voice was loud and very close. Annoying.

Because Buck was awake. Wasn’t he? But he felt… jumbled, somehow. Maybe…

“Buck. Buck! Show me those eyes again, buddy.” Eddie. That was Eddie. His voice was beautiful too. And Buck could tell from the tension in that beautiful voice that Eddie was worried about something. Buck wanted to help, to take the worry away. He struggled, trying hard to focus. Raising his head, his eyes again met Eddie’s.

Eddie's eyes that were molten brown like liquid chocolate. Beautiful.

“There you are,” Eddie said, gently reaching up to stroke Buck’s cheek. Hmmm. That was nice. Wait, did Eddie normally… Eddie’s fingers were soft… it felt…

“Buck” Eddie’s voice had a hard edge to it now. “Buck, you need to stay with me”.

Always, Buck wanted to say. Always, Eddie. But he couldn't seem to get his words to work.

He realised that Eddie was holding his hand, rubbing it and putting pressure on the soft area between Buck’s thumb and forefinger. It felt grounding, like something he could focus on.

Snippets of the conversation flowing around him drifted into momentary focus, like little bubbles of clarity. He couldn’t follow what was being said, though, and the different voices merged together.

“...not able to stay awake.”

“... need a gurney, Have to get him back to…”

“... his body is just not coping with…”

“... feeding tube. There doesn’t seem to be any other…”

“Buck. You with me?” That voice was closer. Eddie. That was Eddie. Buck turned his slow gaze to find where the voice was coming from. And he was there, Eddie was right there, still stroking Buck’s hand.

“Eddie” Buck managed, “You OK?”

Buck saw Eddie nod, but his eyes were clouded. Buck wanted to hold him, to kiss away the frown resting between Eddie’s eyes. But he wasn’t allowed to do that. He couldn’t remember why. Maybe he should ask Eddie. Eddie would know. Eddie would… Eddie was…

“Buck? Buck!”

But no matter how hard he tried, Eddie couldn’t rouse the man who had just slumped sideways, his eyes now resolutely closed.

Eddie brushed a thumb along Buck’s cheek. Then he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Buck’s temple. “Wake up, cariño. Please”, he begged, his words soft against Buck’s skin.

But Buck didn’t stir. Eddie became aware of someone crouching down next to him. He turned to see Chimney, face set but eyes full of emotion.

“Eddie, they need to move him back to his room. This has gone on long enough. Let them help him. And I think we need to talk”.

“I’m not leaving him, Chim. I’m not leaving him alone.”

I never want him to be alone again.

“You don’t have to, Eddie. But you do have to give them room.”

Eddie looked up and saw the orderly from before returning with a gurney.

“Right, gentlemen” Kayla said from behind them. “Let’s get Mr Buckley back in his bed, for starters. Then let’s work out what exactly we need to do to get him back on his feet”.

Eddie sat in Buck’s room, Buck’s large, calloused hand clasped in his. 

It was fair to say that Eddie had not had an easy couple of days. First, finding out Buck was also in the hospital, in a bed just down the hall. Then the dramatic morning, with the stress of Buck missing, and the relief when he was found. Relief that turned sour when it became clear that Buck was more unwell than Eddie had realised. The worry when Buck, eyes vacant and confused, could not stay awake. The fear when he slid back into unconsciousness. 

There had been a flurry of activity, nurses and doctors all moving with practised urgency. Moving Buck back to his room, transferring him from the gurney back into his bed, hooking him up to monitoring equipment that showed Buck’s body to be in crisis. Hooking Buck back up to the IV. But then the decision was taken to place Buck on a feeding tube as well. It was a lot to happen very quickly, and Eddie was still recovering from his own injury.

But, once Buck was stable, things became calmer. Sedating him to help with the insertion of the feeding tube, the medical team decided to keep Buck under for at least 24 hours to give his body a break and allow it time to adjust.

While Buck was unconscious, visitors came and went. Eddie sat in his chair by Buck's bed throughout, mostly silent, just 

Bobby and Hen came between shifts, bringing food as well as cards for Eddie and Buck from Christopher. Eddie had the chance to FaceTime with his son and, just for that 20 minutes, the world seemed lighter. 

Maddie came, bringing Jee-Yun who got to spend time with her father while Maddie sat with Buck. Eddie gave her space, and took a break with Chim and Jee in the hospital cafeteria, drinking back coffee while his thoughts were still with the unconscious man in the room three floors above. Maddie gave Eddie a kiss on the cheek as she left, and he thought she looked drained, tired, sad. He promised himself he would check in with her when he got out of the hospital and Buck was in a better place.

Chim, meanwhile, had been an almost constant presence. He had gone home very briefly at one point for a shower and change of clothes, but he had come right back in. Eddie caught him dozing in one of the chairs in Buck’s room and tried to send him away to get some proper rest, but Chimney seemed to have some kind of need to be with Buck. Just like Eddie had a need to be with Buck. They both needed to know where he was and that he was safe.

Now, as the day was ending and the others had gone home, Eddie took advantage of this time with Chimney.

They were sat, side by side, in the hard visitor chairs in Buck's room. Eddie had pulled his close to the bed and was holding Buck's hand, the warmth comforting and reassuring. Chim was fidgeting in his seat, his fingers picking at a rip in the padded cover of the armrest.

Tearing his eyes away from Buck for a moment, Eddie nudged Chim's foot gently with his own to get his attention.

“Come on, Chim. It’s OK now. He’s safe. He's gonna be fine. I'm going to be fine. But I need to know what’s been going on. You gotta fill me in on exactly what's happening here. How did he get to this point?”

“Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what he would want me to tell you.”

Looking Chimney full in the face, Eddie said slowly “Chimney, the man in that bed means more to me than almost anyone else on the planet. Other than my son, there is no one more important to me than him. And I’m sitting by his side while he’s sedated so the medics can use a damn feeding tube to get his body back to a place where he can walk a few feet without passing out. I think we’re probably past the niceties by now. Don't you?”

Not meeting Eddie’s eye, Chimney sighed then said in a defeated voice “He’s been struggling to eat and drink, but especially to eat, since… well, since you… you know. He said it was the stress of dealing with it all. He’s been struggling, Eddie. Badly. And you know him. He never stopped pushing himself at work, or in taking care of Christopher. A huge guy like that needs fuel. Lots of fuel. You’ve seen how much he normally eats. But he’s been running on empty for days now.”

Days. Buck hadn’t eaten properly for days. Then he remembered the extreme reaction when he’d offered Buck water and frowned.

“What are you still not telling me?”

Chimney sighed again. “When you got shot, he was… close to you. Very close.” Eddie already knew this. He nodded and Chim continued. “Your blood got all over him. He’s not been… dealing well with that.”

Eddie didn’t understand.

“But we’re firefighters, Chim. He’s used to blood. I don’t…”

“Eddie, this wasn’t just blood. This was your blood. It was everywhere. It was… it was on his face. It was in his mouth, Eddie. The trauma of that must be huge, especially right in the moment. I just cannot imagine standing next to Maddie, seeing her get shot, getting her blood over me and in my mouth, and then having to fight to save her en route to the hospital. It’s genuinely insane to expect someone to just cope with that. No wonder he’s struggling so much.”

“Chim," Eddie said slowly. "You did that before. You compared my friendship with Buck with what you have with Maddie. But…”

For just a beat, Chimney gave Eddie an appraising look then his eyes softened.

“Edmundo Diaz, do not finish that sentence by underselling what Evan Buckley feels for you or what you feel for him. You can call it friendship if you must, but Buck would walk through fire and water for you. He already has. You know that. And I’m pretty sure you would do the same for him. Don’t you dare try and tell me that isn’t love.” 

Holding Eddie’s gaze, Chim exhaled and continued “You two. I know we joke about it. We ride you for being co-dependant, for being overly intense about each other. But, Eddie, your relationship isn’t a joke. Over the years, Buck hasn’t had many people willing to fight for him. Neither have you, I don’t think. But you fight for each other like it's as natural as breathing. You always have. Imagine how you would feel if this was the other way round. If Buck had been shot right in front of you.”

Eddie didn’t have to imagine. That was the thing. He remembered holding Buck’s hand while his friend was trapped under a ladder truck. He remembered Buck collapsing in Bobby’s back yard, coughing up blood. He remembered Buck dragging himself to the brink of exhaustion, trying to save Christopher from an act of god.

He remembered how the fear burned in his own chest each time Buck put himself in danger.

That fear burned there now.

“But why was he not eating and drinking?”

Chim hesitated.

“Just tell me,” Eddie begged.

Chim looked at Eddie for a long minute, before he finally continued.

“Because, Eddie, since the shooting, everything tastes like blood to him. Your blood, to be precise. He knows it’s in his head. Of course he does. But that doesn’t make it easier. Honestly, it’s been heartbreaking watching him try so hard to move past it. But we all saw it getting worse. His body was just exhausted, but from lack of food not lack of sleep. Though Carla said he’d struggled a little with sleep too. That last night before he was first admitted he ate Bobby’s lasagne, drank some tea, and I was just so relieved. But then, later, it caught up with him and he couldn’t keep it down. I heard him in the bathroom and thought I’d give him a few minutes to settle before going to check on him. Which turned out to be a mistake. Because he was… gone.”

The heartbroken look on Chimney’s face was hard to take.

“We all tried so hard to help him. To be there for him. To try and get him to take care of himself. You should have seen Carla, Eddie. I’ve never seen her so angry as when he… well, when she thought he wasn’t being careful enough. And he did try. He always does. But he’s, well, Buck. He has to help when he sees someone who needs him. He puts everyone else above himself. Still.”

Eddie nodded, a determined look on his face now. He was still holding Buck's hand, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry Chimney. I’m going to take the next few years, probably, to explain to him just how important I… we think he is. And I fully intend to make sure the message sticks”. 

Chim gave Eddie a smile, and it was the first real smile Eddie thought he’d seen from Chimney for days.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Eddie. You might be the only one he’ll listen to.”

“He listens to Bobby,” Eddie replied, looking over at Buck. "Well, mostly. When it matters". 

Chim laughed. “Not so much these last few days, it turns out. I thought Bobby was going to lose it when Buck climbed that crane without permission.”

“Um, Chim. What crane?”

Chim froze, suddenly panicked.

“Oh man, Buck’s gonna kill me. Can you pretend I didn't mention it? He definitely doesn't want anyone to tell you about it.”

“Sorry, Chim, but you’ve said it now. You know I’ll find out anyway. And this way, maybe we spare Buck being present for the conversation. So tell me”. Eddie was not kidding around, everything about him serious.

Swallowing, Chim pulled his phone out. As he opened his socials he looked back up at Eddie. "Maybe it’s easier if I show you”. He cued up a video and offered Eddie the phone.

Eddie reluctantly let go of Buck's hand, resting it carefully back on the bed. He took the phone from Chimney and, focused on the screen, pressed play. He watched the video in silence. Chim’s eyes fixed on his face nervously throughout. But Eddie’s expression didn’t change at any point. 

Finally, the video ended and the screen cycled to the next clip on the site. Eddie handed the phone back to Chim, and took up Buck's hand in his own again. His face still hadn’t changed. Then, just for a moment the mask slipped. Eddie’s face crumpled into an expression of… well, it could only be called despair, Chimney thought. His bottom lip quivered, before being caught between his teeth. He screwed his eyes closed, and his brow furrowed like he was actually in pain. It was heartbreaking.

Then, a beat later, Eddie composed himself. His face smoothed out and the mask slipped back into place.

God, Chim thought. They can both do that. They are both so good at hiding themselves from the world. Chim was going to work hard to make sure both Buck and Eddie knew they didn’t have to hide from him. Or from the rest of the 118. 

Then the questions started. Eddie definitely had questions. Lots of them.

“When?” 

“It… was after you got shot. The day you woke up. Before you woke up”.

“So the sniper…?”

“Was… active. And considered a threat.”

“And Bobby made that call?”

Chim huffed. ”God, no. This was all Buck. He started climbing while the rest of us were wasting time discussing options that wouldn't have worked. Buck knew that, and just acted. Obviously without any thought for himself. When we realised what he was doing, Bobby was furious. He ordered Buck to come back down. He… didn’t comply. Then he turned his radio off.”

Eddie closed his eyes again for a moment, before he continued.

“Why?”

Chim looked confused at that. “To save the guy bleeding out at the top of the crane”.

Eddie sighed.

“No Chim. Why Buck? Why did he feel he had to do this?”

Studying his fingernails, Chimney muttered something Eddie didn’t catch.

“Sorry, Chim?”

“He thought he mattered least. He said… he said the rest of us had families, so it should be him to take the risk”.

That did provoke a reaction from Eddie, in the form of a string of quiet but impassioned Spanish curse words. Chim didn’t understand them all, but he definitely got the point.

Regaining his composure, Eddie asked “Why did he stop?” The climb, I mean. He paused for a little while about two thirds of the way up. Why?”

Expression grim, Chim replied “I think he was struggling, Eddie. Physically. I think his body was already on its way to crisis. He didn’t just push his limits, he blew right past them at high speed. But later, the wheels came off. It was when we got back after that call that he first collapsed.”

“Reprimand?”

Chim frowned. “Bobby was livid and pulled him so they could... talk. Not sure how formal that conversation would have been, but they didn’t get far before Buck passed out. That was the first real indication we had that there was something really wrong. He’d been… covering it pretty well till then”.

More impassioned cursing in Spanish. Chim winced. Eddie was not happy. He knew Buck was gonna be mad that he’d filled Eddie in like this, but he reasoned it was for Buck’s own good in the long run.

“Tell me there was protection, at least,” Eddie almost pleaded.

Chim sucked in a breath through his teeth, like he was considering his answer.

“There was, to a degree. He was wearing a flack vest. We all had those issued by the LAPD as part of the safety measures. So his torso was protected. But he just had a standard climbing helmet, so…”

“So he was vulnerable to anything other than a shot to centre mass”. 

Chim nodded.

Eddie seemed to take a moment to process the information he’d just learned from Chimney. He turned his gaze back to Buck, unmoving in the bed. Chim saw Eddie was stroking the back of Buck's hand with his thumb. He didn't think Eddie knew he was doing it, and it seemed to be self-soothing as much as anything. He watched Eddie take a breath, then turn back to face him again.

“So, just to be clear. Buck hasn’t been able to eat or drink properly since I was shot. Which is now five days ago. He didn’t tell anyone or ask for help. After three days of not being able to eat or drink, very dehydrated and with nothing in his system to give him energy, he went against police advice and the orders of his captain to climb an incredibly tall crane. Potentially fully exposed to a sniper who was actively targeting firefighters. A climb that would have been difficult for anyone at full capacity. Yet Buck did it anyway and it took so much out of him that he passed out once you got back to the firehouse.”

“Twice” Chimney interjected nervously. 

“Twice” Edddie echoed in a flat voice.

“The second time we understood what was going on. We hooked him up to an IV for fluids but, before we could talk more with him about it or do anything else, he got the call you’d woken up. And he was totally focused on getting to you.”

Eddie smiled softly, then, despite himself. A small, almost shy smile, that lit his tired face. Then he remembered the state Buck had been in that day. How he wouldn’t tell Eddie what was wrong. The smile vanished.

“You took him home, but he made his way back here for some reason.” 

“You, Eddie. He needed to check in on you. I think he just needed to know it was real, that you were getting better.”

“But he collapsed again and was finally admitted. Again, IV for fluids, but he still wasn’t eating. Why wasn’t that picked up?”

“He hides it well, Eddie. Downplays how serious things are. Doesn’t want to be a burden”.

“And that led us here. To him lying there, sedated, with a feeding tube. Dios.”

Eddie’s eyes fixed on Buck. They looked almost hungry, Chim thought. 

“How do we help him?” 

Chim didn’t know.

“He’s gonna need support. Therapy, probably. But I’m hoping this final crash out might reset something in him. And maybe, you know, you getting better will help him move on.”

“I’m hearing a lot of hope and uncertainty there, Chim.”

“I know, Eddie.” Chim said, sounding suddenly very tired. “But I don’t know what else there is just now”.

Dragging his gaze away from Buck, Eddie looked at Chimney again. He saw the worry, the exhaustion and the frustration at not being able to do more. He also saw the love Chimney had for Buck. It was clear in everything he'd done to try and help the man who had still ended up unconscious in the bed next to them. 

“You did your best for him, you know. You all did. He’s not easy to look after. He doesn’t lean into it with you. He fights you at every step. He doesn’t think he deserves to be cared for, you know?”

Eddie looked back at Buck, drinking him in with his eyes. He was pale, smaller somehow, unruly curls spilling over his forehead. His face was peaceful in a way Eddie had rarely seen, even when Buck slept. Maybe the meds had helped calm Buck’s racing thoughts in a way normal sleep didn’t, if his nightmares were anything to go by.

“I am going to talk to him, Chim. When he wakes up. This can’t go on. He needs to understand.” Eddie’s voice broke. “How good… how important… how precious…”

Eddie was crying now, silent tears spilling down his cheeks. He lifted Buck's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

“I have to make him understand just how much he is loved”.

Wordlessly, Chim pulled Eddie into a careful, one armed hug. He hoped that, just maybe, this time Buck would listen. 

Hope and uncertainty, still.

But better than nothing.