Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I told you to stop calling me.” Chimney growls into the phone, Jee cooing somewhere in the background, and Buck blinks back a fresh onslaught of tears. He still smells like smoke and the plastic chair he’s sitting in digs into his side uncomfortably. He could move, probably, to stop the pain but it’s the only thing he can feel at the moment. The pain of the plastic is the only thing breaking through the numbness and haze. Besides, he deserves it. 

“Chim—“ Buck chokes off, tears running hot down his cheeks as he tries to stop the sob rushing up his throat. He feels sick to his stomach every time he catches sight of the 133 symbol on the helmet near him. Albert. Albert’s helmet. Buck’s hand goes white around the phone as he grips it tight enough that it creaks under his fingers. 

“What?” Chim scoffs, almost like he’s assuming Buck is looking for any excuse to make him stay on the phone for a second longer. Buck wishes that was the case, wishes that he could just hold onto this call and hear Jee cooing in the background and pretend everything is okay. But it’s not. Nothing is okay. His mouth tastes like ash and when he breathes it gets caught in his throat. The chair digs painfully into his side and another hot tear runs down his cheek. 

“Chim. I’m so sorry man.” Buck manages and hates himself even more because he can’t seem to find the words to get to the damn point, his voice trembling as he takes in another unsteady breath that never reaches his lungs, “Albert—he uh, he’s dead.”

The line remains silent for a long moment, where the only sounds are Chim’s ragged breaths and Jee’s coos, unaware of the tragedy that just struck her father. For a second, Buck thinks that Chim might just hang up on him. It’s not the kind of news you’d want to get over the phone, not the kind of news you’d ever want in general, and Buck’s heart skips a beat in his chest just thinking about it. He can’t imagine being in this situation. The fear of not hearing from Maddie, of knowing she was with Doug , had been enough to send him spiraling on an already fragile edge. Hearing that she was dead, well Buck doesn’t think he would’ve survived that.

“He’s—dead?” Chim asks, sounding almost like he doesn’t believe the words Buck says and some part of Buck just wants to say it’s a joke. Wants to pretend that this isn’t happening. He wants to pretend that he didn’t just watch Albert die in front of him, wearing a 133 logo with a smile so bright that Buck’s never going to forget it. It’s permanently etched in his mind, every time he closes his eyes, and even hours after the fact, Buck still can’t breathe in air that doesn’t get caught in his throat.

“Chim, I’m—I’m so—” Buck doesn’t get a chance to finish, not when, on the other line, Chim lets out a laugh so harsh that it almost sends Buck spiraling. His hand holding the phone trembles just a little, fingers going tight around it until Buck can hear it creak under his fingers, and even then he still shakes. The 133 helmet sitting across from him feels like a mockery now. He remembers his celebration, Albert high on the adrenaline needed to pass the certification, and the 118 was still a team. Eddie, Ravi, Chim, Hen, Bobby, and him were still so intricately tied together that nothing seemed enough to break them apart. And now he’s here, sitting alone in this waiting room with the taste of ash in his mouth and the smell of something burning stuck in his nose. 

“You’re sorry ? What the hell happened Buckley?” Chimney hisses and Buck can’t help the flinch, even with Chim miles and miles away, the way he says his last name impacting harder than a punch to the face would. It stutters and falls like a grenade, rolling right between Buck’s feet and sets off any sanity he may have been gripping at. Now, Buck knows that Chimney’s grieving, that he just got the worst possible news over the phone, but he can’t move past the hatred that paints the tone of the man who is practically his brother in law. It aches and scratches at a poorly closed wound, pain exploding in Buck’s chest as he swallows back against a sob.

“It—there was an—” Buck stutters to a stop and runs a hand down his face, trying to figure out what he’s meant to say because it sure as hell wasn’t an accident but nothing else feels even close to accurate, “something happened at work and he got hurt. He—uh, he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

It’s all he can find the words to say, apologies over and over again threatening to spill past his tightly closed lips, but he doesn’t think Chim wants them. His apologies feel flat even to his own ears but Buck isn’t sure if that’s simply because he knows what happened or because the ache in his chest is threatening to swallow him whole. He hears Chim inhale sharply on the other end and the burning in his eyes renew, hot enough that he can barely blink them back. The 133 of Albert’s helmet swims in his vision. 

“How?” Chim asks, voice deadly and far too steady for the devastating news that Buck just gave him but he never gets a chance to dwell on it further, “What the hell happened?”

“I—I. I mean—I—“ Buck stutters around his tongue and it suddenly feels two big for his mouth, words taste foreign on his tongue. He isn’t even sure how he was supposed to answer that question when everything happened so fast, in a blink of an eye, between a single moment and the next, Albert was gone. Buck still can’t wrap his head around it. “I don’t know.”

The way that Chim scoffs down the line somehow hurts more than anything else and Buck’s barely able to stop the flinch that tears through his aching muscles. The next words off of Chim’s tongue are harsh and filled with hate, something so painful that it hits Buck right where it hurts. It makes breathing feel hard and he stutters around the words he wants to say but can’t form. He had hoped, for a single second, that the pain would go away or stop, yet here he was with tears pressing against his eyes and his throat so tight he could barely breathe. He wonders if Chimney feels the same way.

“I’ll be back in a few days.” Chim finally decides after a long beat of silence and the raspy inhale he takes before he keeps speaking immediately puts Buck on edge. The hatred is clear in every movement, between the clothes being tossed onto the bed with increasing noise and the harsh murmurs under his breath, there’s no way that Buck can be confused as to the situation. Chim doesn’t seem to care as he continues talking, “I’ll be back and I’ll sort it all out. Just—stay away from it all. Stay away from the Lees, stay away from the 133, just don’t touch any of it. Oh, and Buckley? Stay away from me too. I never want to see you again.”

The line clicks before Buck even has a chance to say anything, not that he really knows what to say. Maybe an useless apology about how he’s sorry for the situation, sorry for not being quicker, smarter, better. Anything to stop this pain, even if he knows it’s impossible, but the line goes dead before he can. All he’s left with is Chim’s harsh words and an unaware Jee-Yun’s babbling that echo in his ears. They bounce around his skull like a taunt, proof of something he once had and never will again. Proof of how easy it is for life to change when someone goes. His phone freaks under his tight grip as he lowers it from his ear, eyes welling up with unshed tears as he glances at the lock screen photo, a picture of Jee and Chris with matching smiles on their faces. His hand moves on instinct, the only thing registering is the whiz past his ear as he throws his phone as hard as he can.

The phone doesn’t explode on impact the way that Buck wanted. Instead of falling into a million pieces, it simply slams into the wall then the ground screen first, hiding even the shattered screen from view. Hot tears race their way down his cheeks and a sob catches in his throat as he feels the eyes of the other patients on him. A woman near the nurses station clears her throat, eyes wide in something Buck would label fear if he could be bothered to focus on it for more than a fleeting second. Whispers explode almost immediately when Buck shoves himself to his feet, leg coming out to kick the plastic chair across from him. Albert’s helmet barely moves and the bold 133 emblazoned on it more of a mockery than a fond memory.

He can feel far too many eyes on him, watching him as he chokes on a sob, and he clenches his hands into tight fists. A brief glance up shows more than a few nurses gathered at the desk, their expressions a mix of sympathy and concern. He gets it, really he does, but Buck is pretty sure that if he sees one more person look at him like that, he’s going to lose it. Every fiber in his body is on fire, like he can’t sit still and his stomach twists nauseatingly in his stomach the longer he breathes in the sterile smell of the hospital. There’s no point in being here, no point in waiting for a miracle that will never happen. Albert was dead on scene. Buck knew he was never coming home.

Some part of him feels bad for slamming the glass sliding doors off their hinges, using the knowledge that they pop in an emergency to his advantage as he flees. Even steps away from the door, he can still smell the smoke and see the way Albert’s smile shined against the ash-filled sky. The LAFD shirt Buck had borrowed from the truck itches every time he moves, just the wrong side of too small, and his hands shake as he marks crescents into his palms. He still smells like smoke and his ankle twinges when he steps too hard on it, the shot of pain the only sensation that breaks through the haze he’s wavering in. His hand slams into the brick wall outside of the hospital, fingers crunching hard enough that for a moment, he thinks they might be broken. Tiny pockets of blood pop up from his worn knuckles and Buck watches as a drop runs down his wrist. It’s oddly satisfying in a way until Buck closes his eyes and sees Albert standing in front of him, blood dripping. 

Within the next breath, peeling his eyes back open with a choked gag and he’s hovering over the trash can within seconds. Tears run hot down his cheeks and each breath he takes gets caught on a sob, his knuckles turning white as he grips the trash can beneath him. The next sob that tears out of him turns into a gag halfway up his throat and his legs shake under him.

“Geez, Buck.” Eddie’s voice sounds rough around the edges, unused and filled with a realization that makes him choke on the next sob again. It’s obvious that he knows and a half-glance under his arm tells Buck all he needs to know, the 133 helmet hanging limp in his hand. Had it been anyone else, Buck might’ve missed the way that his fingers were pressed into the side of the plastic or the way they were shaking just a little. He doesn’t with Eddie but when he starts talking, Buck has to slam his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain that threatens to crack his heart. “It’s Albert’s isn’t it? They—I saw on the news. Then—then the hospital called and I thought—”

Buck can’t find the words he wants to say and when he opens his mouth to try, all that comes out is a broken noise. His eyes burn from the tears that won’t stop and his fingers ache from how hard he’s gripping the rim of the trash can, blood leaking over the edges of his damaged fist. Eddie, surprisingly, hasn’t said a word about it yet but Buck isn’t entirely sure if it’s been spotted. All he can see is Albert’s helmet in Eddie’s shaking hands and his world feels like it’s spinning in the opposite direction. He tries to open his mouth again, opening and closing his lips in an attempt for anything but a squeak to come out but ends up with nothing but a new sob. Eddie’s quick to react when Buck spins around to face him, his legs giving out just when he takes on half-step towards his partner. The helmet clinks to the ground and rolls out of Buck’s sight. 

He collides into Eddie’s chest, legs bending at the knees until they meet the cool concrete as Eddie calmly lowers him to the ground. He blinks once, eyes still blurry as the tears well up further as he leans heavy against Eddie’s chest. Logically, Buck should be out of tears and breath but it’s like they’re never ending. He can’t breathe but the tears won’t stop pushing against his eyes, leaving him heaving for air that he can’t get into his lungs. It’s a vicious cycle and each attempt shakes his entire body, making him curl tighter against Eddie in a desperate attempt to find some form of comfort from the outside world. 

The wind whips around them, biting at his exposed skin, and it shouldn’t feel as cold as it is but Buck can’t stop the shiver running down his spine. It’s enough to wrack through his body, making both him and Eddie jerk in response, and the sound of sirens makes him whimper unconsciously. Everything feels painful right now, every click of the lights and whoosh of sirens is overwhelming in a way that Buck’s never experienced before. His chest aches and his eyes burn with tears that he can’t quite hold back. Eddie’s hand is comforting on his back, tugging him impossibly close, and for a moment Buck wants to pretend everything is okay. He wants so desperately to close his eyes and not be sitting in the hospital parking lot with the ghost of a memory of a man who was practically his brother. He wants the pain to stop but he knows it won’t. So for now, for a calm and peaceful moment, he clings to Eddie’s shirt and cries.

The shower is running in the background, the soft pitter patter of the water hitting Buck echoing around the silent apartment as Eddie dips to fix the shoes he’d haphazardly tossed in the direction of the door. His phone feels heavy in his pocket and some part of Eddie wants to shoot off a message to Bobby, asking if he knew anything. It’s not like he could get any words out of Buck, who had gone completely still in Eddie’s arms not long after the last sob dried up. Everything felt a little too broken right now and he didn’t feel like he should be pushing, not when his partner could barely keep his head above the water he seemed to be drowning in.

He waits for a moment, leaning against the wall beside the bathroom with his head tilted up to look at the ceiling, listening for the water splashing against Buck’s shoulders. The sound doesn’t change and Eddie isn’t sure what he would find if he went in through the doors, if Buck would even be standing. A glance at his watch tells him it’s been a few minutes and Eddie taps on the door, waiting and hoping for some response that he already knows he won’t get. It’s not like Buck has said a word since Eddie made it to the hospital, the shattered phone his only clue that his boyfriend wasn’t the one lying dead on a table behind those double doors. 

The fresh air is nice, in an odd way, and Eddie slips through the door to the balcony as best as he can without giving away his movements to Buck inside. He’s not sure that he would be able to hear it over the roaring shower and the heater on full blast but Eddie thinks it’s the sentiment that counts. The city is coming alive below him as night turns to day and some part of Eddie thinks it’s wrong, wrong that all of these people are going about their daily lives when his family’s world was torn into a million tiny, unfixable pieces. He wonders, briefly, if Albert felt any pain, and then has to push the thought far away when his chest aches at the simple thought. His phone bounces in his pockets when he wraps his fingers around the metal railing and he reaches one hand for it. The messages remain empty, though that’s not as much of a surprise as it should be. He’s not even sure anyone knows yet, he’s not sure if anyone even knows that Albert is dead. His phone rings before he can register who he calls, Chim’s name is stark against the screen as it trills in that odd mix of silence and noise that comes with standing on the balcony of an apartment. 

“Look if you’re calling about Buck, I don’t want—” Chim growls into the phone and Eddie clenches his eyes shut, already knows the anger in his friend’s voice better than he wants to. It was the anger that led him to unwrapped, bloody knuckles under nothing but a shaky street lamp in the middle of a junkyard. It’s the anger he felt and still feels when he dwells on Shannon for too long. It’s anger directed inwards and easier tossed out instead of focused in. Eddie swallows hard around the lump in his throat and closes his eyes for a brief moment, picturing the broken look on Buck’s face as he intertwined their hands the drive back. Some part of him will never not be able to fight on Buck’s behalf but he tightens his free hand around the railing and steadies himself with a breath. 

“No. I’m—I’m calling to say that I’m sorry.” Eddie whispers, his words barely making it through the speaker of the phone before they’re swallowed by the city below. Everything is a little louder than normal, echoing off the tall buildings and up to where Eddie is standing. His legs are shaky beneath him and he can hear Chim inhale sharply on the other end of the line, the sound of wind whipping against the car as he speeds down the highway. For a brief moment, Eddie wonders if Maddie’s with him. He doubts it. With a deep breath, something desperate and trembling in an unsuccessful attempt to provide something steady, Eddie continues, “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I–I know it’s not easy and I know you’re angry, I know you’re pissed at the world right now, but remember that we’re here for you.”

Chimney scoffs down the line and Eddie bites his lip, forcing himself to take a steadying breath even as the disbelief of his friend hits him straight in the chest. It aches and threatens to crack open into a million tiny pieces but Eddie forces it down. Takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes, allowing himself just a brief moment of listening to the rushing of the city around him before he focuses back in on the conversation. The line remains silent for a beat longer, the wind whipping against the car and the sound of Jee babbling in the background the only sounds outside of Chimney’s ragged breathing.

“Right now? I really don’t care how much you think you understand. My brother is dead.” Chim hisses into the phone, his voice soft enough that it’s almost overpowered by the noise of the car on the highway and Eddie can imagine the tight grip he has on the steering wheel, “You can pretend all you want that you understand, that you’re there for me, but really? You’re not. So just, leave it alone.”

A brief moment of anger swells up in Eddie’s chest, hot enough that he’s sure that the tips of his ears turn red and he has to swallow it back with a tight grip on the railing. He knows it’s grief, remembers the way it ached and festered in his stomach as he tried to find anyone but himself to lash out at. Anyone to take and shoulder the blame so that Eddie could have a moment to breathe without feeling like he’s about to shatter into a million tiny pieces on the floor. He’s sure that Chimney feels the same way, knows that he does, but the knowledge doesn’t make the anger that much easier to take. It still hurts, knowing his friend is so angry at the world and at them but Eddie doesn’t say that.

“Chimney, I watched my wife die in my arms. There was nothing I could do. Isn’t that what you told me?” Eddie asks softly, intentionally keeping his voice as calm and even as possible to prevent any anger from spilling over when it shouldn’t, “I’m not trying to make you feel better or try to make you talk about it. It’s just a simple fact. Yes, it’s not the same as losing a brother, and I cannot imagine how much that hurts, but I understand how angry you are right now.”

“I wouldn’t be this angry if Buck had done his job.” Chim yells, the words echoing through the speaker as they bounce off the doors of the car and everything goes silent for a split second. There’s no radio playing, Jee and Chim both are silent as if neither dare to breathe. The wind whipping past is the only sound, loud and harsh against the windows as Chimney likely speeds down an interstate. Then Jee starts crying and Chimney curses softly under his breath, “Baby, oh it’s okay, I know. I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” 

Eddie pulls the phone away from his ear, enough that he can still hear Chim’s voice just barely but can’t make out the words he’s saying. It’s the most privacy he can give the man without hanging up and Eddie’s half-certain that if he hangs up now, they won’t be talking again any time soon. He peeks through the glass door as he waits, hoping that maybe Buck would be sliding out of the bathroom door but the door remains firmly shut. He wonders, briefly before Chimney calls his name, if Buck has even moved from standing under the spray. 

“You still there?” Chim asks softly, finally sounding a little more calm than he had moments prior and Eddie strains to listen for Jee, hearing her babbling softly in the background, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Even without being able to see the man, Eddie can imagine how he’s looking up through the rearview mirror, watching Jee play with whatever toy she has in her hands. He knows that his hands are likely tight around the steering wheel, fingers starting to ache from the pressure he grips it with. Eddie knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he were to pull his hands away from the wheel, that they would shake more than they should be during a cross-country drive. And, most importantly, Eddie knows that Chim is hurting in every aspect of the word and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“I know. I know you didn’t.” Eddie agrees, pressing his back against the railing and leaning against it, tossing his head up towards the sky as he counts his inhales, “And you and I both know there isn’t anyone to blame in this situation. We both know that Buck did the best he could in the situation.”

Eddie’s aware that it completely could be a lie, he doesn’t know the details of what has happened so far beyond the fact that Albert died in front of his partner, but he also knows Buck. He knows Buck better than he knows himself, most days, could likely trace every aspect of him out with his eyes closed. He knows Buck and he knows that there’s no way he would just leave Albert to die, no matter the situation. There is no world where Evan Buckley doesn’t give his life to save another. 

“Do you even know how it happened?” Chim asks, his voice cracking like he’s swallowing back tears that burn at his eyes and Eddie swallows harsh around the lump in his throat, “Do you? Buck, he—he wouldn’t even tell me. I had to call Mehta…Eddie, it was awful.”

Eddie has no doubt, but he doesn’t say that much. Instead, he hums softly and lets his eyes flutter shut as he feels the sun hit his face for the first time that morning. He listens to the story in all of its stops and starts, through stuttered words as the wind whips against Chimney’s car and Jee babbles unaware that she’ll never know one of her uncles. Eddie listens, as tears squeeze from the corners of his closed eyes and his heart aches for both Buck and Chimney. To see this and know this, know that someone they considered their brother is gone with such a breath is painful beyond anything Eddie could ever imagine. He listens and he prays, for what feels like the first time in too long, free hand gripped into a fist at his side. All he asks is that the universe listens.

Buck’s always thought the 118 was the best station out of the entire LAFD, however biased that may sound. Walking up, he’s completely unsurprised to find Albert already leaning against the side of the truck with a smirk firmly in place on his face.

“Finally, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up Buckley.” Albert joked, reaching out his hand to punch Buck’s shoulder and he laughed harder when Buck allowed himself to stumble back just a bit. The firehouse is loud around them and Buck, oddly enough, feels enough at home that he’s able to drop the weight he had been carrying with him since leaving the loft that morning. Eddie hadn’t been happy to see him go but Buck had promised to bring dinner on the way back. He made a mental note to text Eddie further along in the shift and swung his duffle bag up around his shoulder.

“Lead the way Han.” Buck shook his head, arm reaching forward to push Albert off the side of the truck and he watched with satisfaction as the man that was practically his brother wiped out on the concrete floor. It made the firehouse roar up in laughter, two firefighters that Buck vaguely recognized leaned over the railing with good natured smiles on their faces as they watched Albert push himself up onto his elbows. His eyes are narrowed as he stuck his tongue out at Buck and the older of the two threw his head back as he laughed, a pep in his step as he ducked into the locker room.

“You’re a menace.” Albert murmured as he dipped into the locker room behind Buck, digging through his locker as Buck tugged off the shirt that he had worn into the station that day. Eddie’s last name is printed clear as day on the back and Buck bit his lip to stop from laughing, though it did little to stop Albert from noticing. The smirk that grew across his friend’s face was all Buck needed to see to know that there was about to be teasing. Especially when he leaned up against his now shut locker, arms crossed across his chest with a smirk that was all too familiar from ones that Buck remembered from Chimney. His chest ached at the thought of his practically brother in law, too far away to do anything and so angry at Buck that his phone calls always rang to voicemail. Buck had gotten to the point where he could pretend that it didn’t bother him as much as it does.

“Where’s the fun in not?” Buck laughed, tugging on the LAFD shirt that he’d stuffed into his bag as he ran out of Eddie’s house, running far too behind schedule to do much more than press a kiss to his partner’s cheek and wish Chris a good day. If he had sped more than he should have, well, nobody had to know. Albert groaned, nose crinkled as he put together just why Buck was wearing one of Eddie’s shirts and Buck had to bite back the laugh that threatened to spill past his lips.

“Come on man! This is a firehouse!” Albert complained, though his lips were turned up at the edges and his cheeks indented with the dimples that he always swore he didn’t have so Buck knew he wasn’t really all that disgusted, “Leave your sexcapades at home!”

“Oh don’t worry, I did.” Buck winked as Albert fake gagged, nose scrunched in disgust as he shouted aloud. Albert’s hands came out in front of him, the noise of disgust echoed around the walls, and Buck threw his head back to laugh. He came so close to slamming his head against the locker that it made Albert duck his own head to hide the grin that blossomed across his face. Buck was about to say something else when the station exploded with noise, the shrill alarm barely giving Buck enough time to tug on the socks before he had to hit the ground running. Albert gave him a smile as they settled beside each other in the truck, their shoulders bumping against one another as they settled. 

“I’ve got your back.” Albert promised moments before the truck roared to life and Buck smiled back, mouthing the words ‘you too’ at him moments before he had pulled his head set on. The truck pulled out of the station and the blaring of the sirens settled some of the anxiety thrumming under Buck’s skin. Maybe being on loan for the day to another station wouldn’t be as bad as he had initially thought.

“ Dios , Buck. How long have you been in here?” Eddie’s voice sounds far away, like Buck is drowning underwater and can’t reach the surface. In all reality, though, Buck doesn’t think he even wants to reach the surface. Some part of Buck wishes that he were drowning right now, if only to get a brief reprieve from the pain threatening to split open his chest. He’s sure his eyes are rimmed red as he glances over at Eddie, the man standing with his head poked through the shower curtain, and he looks exhausted enough that Buck almost feels bad. He can’t quite find the urge to feel anything right now, the startling numbness that echoes in his body all he can ask for. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he can’t quite make the words come out. They get caught in his throat and disappear. Instead, he simply blinks at Eddie.

“Okay, okay. I—just give me a minute okay?” Eddie murmurs, more like he’s talking to himself than Buck but the younger nods regardless, his hands shaking under the spray of the water. For a brief moment, when he closes his eyes and tilts his head back until the water rushes over his face, Buck feels like he’s underwater. The reprieve from the world is nice, at least here he can pretend that nothing matters outside of the water running across his body. Buck startles when he feels hands wrap around his wrists, eyes flying open as they find Eddie standing in the shower wearing nothing but boxers, “I tried calling your name, you didn’t hear me?”

Buck shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, going easily when Eddie tugs him closer. A desperate part of him is terrified when Eddie starts to pull away from him and he latches on desperately, digging his fingers into his boyfriend’s skin until the older man grimaces just a little. Panic and guilt war for dominance as Buck desperately tries to pry his fingers apart but finds that he can’t, tears welling up in his eyes. He hates feeling like this, so weak that he’s practically floating along in the world without any real destination in mind. Eddie makes quick work, latching one finger under Buck’s and tugging until he has no choice but to let go. His hand falls into a tight fist beside him, digging hard enough that he’s sure he’s going to draw blood.

“I’m not going anywhere. We’re just going to get you cleaned up okay?” Eddie’s voice is soft as he reaches behind him to find the shower head and turn it to hit the wall before backing them up just a little bit. He’s wearing his boxers, Buck realizes, and some small, minuscule part of him is thankful to see his partner being so careful. The other part, the one that’s not being destroyed and controlled by the ache in Buck’s chest that he knows is there but he can’t quite feel, is guilty for making Eddie change what he’s doing. 

Buck watches Eddie out of the corner of his eye as he reaches around to where the shampoo rests on the side of the tub, squirting just a little bit into his hands before gently urging Buck forward. Logically, Buck knows that he should bend down to allow Eddie better access but he can’t get his knees to bend even when he tries to force it. The look he directs upwards at Eddie must say enough because Eddie gives him a small, sad smile before he stands on his toes to reach Buck’s hair. The movement is soothing, the constant circles enough for Buck to let his eyes fall shut in an attempt to find some peace. Eddie’s hands are gentle as they pull him back under the spray, hands soft as they run through his hair and the soap drips down his back. Any other day, Buck might be pressing Eddie up against the back wall and kissing him senseless. Today, Buck can barely remember to breathe. 

“Hey, hey, shhh. Come here.” Eddie whispers, not bothering to move the shower head away from them as he gathers his boyfriend in his arms and Buck hasn’t even realized he was crying. Not until Eddie was bundling him close, arms wrapping around him like he’s something fragile, and Buck is on the verge of breaking. The spray of the shower hits Buck’s head from where it’s tucked up against Eddie’s neck and he’s not sure why he’s shaking, if it’s from the chill that’s settled deep in his bones or just from the pure pain that’s made itself a joke burrowed deep in his chest. Regardless, his entire body is trembling and likely, the only thing keeping him upright was Eddie’s steady hands. 

“Okay, come on, it’s okay.” Eddie coaxes, one hand releasing Buck’s forearm to yank the curtain open and in the next blink, Buck is sitting on the edge of the tub. The water’s turned off and the air is chilly, his body wracking with shivers despite Eddie remaining perfectly steady. He drops to his knees in the tub, cocooned on either side by Buck’s bouncing legs, and his hands are gently as they cup Buck’s face, “Try to breathe for me baby. I know it’s hard, just—-just try. Follow my breathing.”

The next breath that Eddie takes is exaggerated enough that Buck might’ve laughed if it was any other day. If it was a normal day with a normal panic attack, his lips might have twitched to one side as he tried to catch his breath. Today, Buck can barely manage a shaky inhale before it’s being punched out of him by sheer pain that laces his heart. For a startling moment, Buck thinks he might be dying and it’s strange how little that scares him. Death was always this momentous thing in his eyes, something terrifying and beautiful all at once. Now, it just sounds like an escape from a place filled with pain and Buck is desperate to take it, even as he knows how much hurt it would bring his family.

“You’re doing good, Buck, I promise. We’re almost there.” Eddie promises and despite the way his breath gets caught in his throat, Buck believes him. Believes that maybe the world will right itself as best it can when one of its heroes is gone. Buck isn’t sure his world will ever be steady again but the universe, she can move on and keep turning, even when he’s stuck here forever. 

“You back with me?” Eddie brushes his hand across Buck’s cheek and it runs up to slick back his hair when Buck nods, “Good, that’s good. You want to finish the shower?”

Buck knows he should, knows he should be desperate to scrub until the smell of smoke and feeling of blood goes away from his skin but he can’t bring himself to even think about it. Before he can even think of a way to respond, Eddie is already stepping sideways out of the tub and one of his hands remains wrapped calmly around Buck’s shoulder. He’s entirely unsurprised that his partner could read his mind, though he’s more than a little thankful.

 As he towels Buck’s hair, spinning him around so the drips from his hair landed in the tub, Buck catches sight of the St. Christopher medal dangling off Eddie’s neck in the mirror. A glimpse of gold, really, is all it is but Buck knows it like the back of his hand. One of the only things that never gets removed, forever secured in its spot around Eddie’s neck as he fights to get back home every day. For nothing more than a split second, though Buck hates himself for not realizing sooner, he wonders where Chris is. He’s not sure what time it is but the kid is likely at school by now. Enjoying the day, not knowing the tragedy that struck throughout the night. He can’t dwell on it for too long, white noise bouncing in his ears until he drops his head into his hands.

“Arms.” Eddie orders, though his voice is sweet and soft, as he taps two fingers against Buck’s forearms in a signal to raise them. For the first time, Buck finds himself able to follow the simple command. Dressing is still harder than it should be, enough to take true breath out of him and send him sinking back onto the side of the tub despite the puddle that had once been there. Eddie seems to want to say something, mouth open as he watches Buck take a seat, but he shuts it with an audible click. 

“Come on, let’s go lay down.” Eddie explains, his tone closer to that of someone telling a narrative than that of two partners talking but Buck can’t bring himself to care. Not when Eddie’s fingers press against his cold skin and the steam from the shower wafts into the main room of the loft. He can’t care even as he’s gently pushed back against the headboard, the covers fought out from beneath him in order to let Buck burrow beneath them. He falls asleep to Eddie’s fingers playing with the curls at his temple and an ache in his chest that is starting to become too familiar for comfort.

Once Eddie is certain that Buck was asleep, he quietly pushes himself off the side of the bed. It creaks as he does and he freezes for a moment as he watches his partner snuffle, burying his head further into the pillow. The movement normally would’ve been enough for Eddie to press a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead and whisper some sweet nothing under his breath. Eddie isn’t sure that either of them have the capability to deal with that today and a brief glance at the clock tells him that Chris is likely on the way to school. With one hand, he dials Carla’s phone and hopes that she answers as he slides as quietly as possible down the metal stairs of Buck’s apartment. 

The mirror of the bathroom is covered in steam still when Eddie pops his head in, shoving the phone between his ear and shoulder as it rings. With one hand, he gathers the clothes that they had taken off and he debates on even keeping them. Even his own smell too much like smoke and death for Eddie to stomach looking at them for a moment longer. Deciding to let Buck choose at a later date, he digs out a trash bag to tie them up in just as the phone clicks. He can hear Chris in the background, the sound of his bag zipping up and Eddie aches to be able to hug his kid. Aches to hold him close and never let go. He still remains so unaware of the events, nothing more than a ‘someone got hurt at work, it wasn’t Buck but he needs me’ before Eddie was rushing out of the door with a haphazard ‘thank you’ to Carla tossed over his shoulder.

“How is he?” Eddie asks instead of answering the silent question that he knows Carla is asking, sliding open the balcony door to toss the bagged clothes off to the side. Better out of sight for whenever Buck woke up later today. His stomach growls and despite not feeling hungry, Eddie knows that he needs to eat. It’s been too many hours since his last meal and he’s starting to feel the effects, his hands feel a little shaky as he steps back inside. The chill from the wind versus the heat of inside is enough to send a sharp shiver down his spine as he waits for Carla to answer.

“He’s worried about you, and Buck.” Carla answers simply and Eddie hums in response, dropping the phone onto the granite top of Buck’s bar, pressing the speaker phone in hopes that it doesn’t wake up his partner, “How is he, by the way? You didn’t tell me much yesterday on the phone.”

Eddie swallows and digs around in the cabinet beside the fridge in an attempt to avoid the question even as it bounces around in his mind. Because, really, the truth is he still doesn’t know how to explain this. He doesn’t know how Buck is, doesn’t even know how he is, and it makes his hands shake when he dwells on it for too long. Regardless, with a harsh swallow, Eddie answers as quietly as he can as he pulls out the tortillas. 

“I’m not on speaker phone, right?” He asks softly and waits for Carla to answer before he continues with what he hopes is a steady voice but knows it isn’t, “It was bad, really bad. Albert, he uh—Buck watched him die.”

He hears her inhale sharply on the other line as his own eyes start to burn. Even though his vision turns blurry, Eddie still glances up at the balcony in hopes that he can see his boyfriend somewhere. The bed is too far away from the railing for it to be visible but just knowing that Buck is upstairs, breathing, is more than enough for him to force down the fear that grips him. It leaves an acidic grief in its place and Eddie isn’t sure which is better. His hands are unsteady as he yanks open the fridge and tries to steady himself, despite the fact that nothing feels right. The phone dings with a text, though Eddie doesn’t bother checking who it is when he slams his fingers around the volume buttons to mute the announcement. He waits for a moment with bated breath, watching for any signs that Buck might’ve woken up, and shoves the phone back between his ear and shoulder.

“What happened?” Carla asks softly, her voice quiet enough that Eddie can hear Christopher talking to himself as he gets ready for school. He clenches his eyes shut at the memory of the story, the fear and anxiety that still hasn’t stopped twisting his gut when he realizes that it could’ve been Buck out there. He tries to steady himself though it feels impossible as he tells her the story and his fingers turn white from how hard they’re gripping the countertop. Some part of Eddie feels guilty for thanking whatever power above that Buck made it home.

Smoke had already coated the sky by the time that the 133 arrived on scene, legs bouncing and adrenaline rushing. Albert is right at Buck’s back, bouncing on the toes of his feet as they geared up outside the truck. The building was still being eaten by flames as Buck pulled on his helmet, flicking the face cover up so he could see better. Albert is a step ahead, already headed towards where the incident command had been set up. There had been enough firefighters running around that Buck should’ve 

“Buckley. Han.” Captain Mehta greeted, nodding his head with a grim look on his face as glanced over at the flames. They’re licking every available surface, crumbling the building down until there’s nothing left but the metal frame and unsteady beams. Buck hated the fact that they’re about to have to go in there and he shoved his gloved hands into his pocket, fingers wrapping around his phone as he reminded himself of what he has to come home to. Captain Mehta glanced over at the incident command center, brow furrowed just enough that Buck knows the likelihood of them all walking out of this unscated is so small that there’s an inherent fear of even going in. Buck tightened his grip around the phone, mind flashing up the newest picture in his camera roll, one of Eddie and Chris at the beach from a few weeks prior. There is no way he isn’t going home to that. 

“We need someone along the backside, we’ve got reports of possibly some people stuck on the third floor.” The incident commander, Buck thought his name was Harold but he couldn't be sure, declared and the four of them turned to look at the building once again. Once upon a time, Buck was sure that there had been a third floor, but now all he could find was the places where the roof had caved in. There was no such thing as a third floor anymore and the chances of survival of anyone who had been stuck there was so low that it twisted Buck’s stomach until he felt sick. The way that Albert’s face had scrunched up, it’s likely that he feels the same. 

“I’ve got it.” Buck offered, hands clenched into tight fists because as much as he wanted to get home to his family, there was no way that he was going to let anyone else go up there. He remembered far too many stories of firefighters who had gone up and never came down. That wasn’t going to be any of them, Buck refused to allow anybody to go up there with the risk of never coming back down. He refused to let Albert go through that pain. He refused to let any of them go through that pain. 

“I’m going then too.” Albert declares before Mehta or Harold could say anything to the contrary, his stance determined as he pushed down the visor of his helmet to hide his eyes. Buck knew, better than anyone else probably, that Albert was doing it to hide the fear that’s dancing beneath the determination. It was a move that Buck was far too familiar with, one that he had not only seen from the man he was standing beside but also remembered reflected on his brother’s face too many times to count. It ached something fierce, the memory of Chimney, and Buck swore to himself then and there that he was going to make sure that Albert went home at the end of the day. If Jee was going to have one uncle, Buck was going to make damn sure that it was Albert.

The smoke was tight to the point that even with masks and tanks, breathing was getting difficult the higher they climbed. The stairs creaked beneath him, each step a potential failure, and Buck hated the fact that Albert was in danger behind him. He hated not being able to see everything, watch everyone, and most importantly, he hated the way that the smoke heated against his skin. The sky opened up above him, the night sky dark and bright all at once. The flames licked at the sky, turning what was normally so dark an ugly orange that painted the sky. Smoke distorted the light from the streets and the fire, making the sky too hazy for Buck to see the stars. Albert coughed behind him and the sudden noise drew Buck’s attention away from the sky. His friend, practically his brother after all this time, aimed a reassuring smile in his direction before he nodded over to where the roof hadn’t yet collapsed. Given the way that the flames were eating away at it, though, Buck hazarded a guess that it wouldn’t last long.

“Come on! We’ve gotta hurry!” Buck shouted, hoping his voice carried and even if it didn't, he made a hand motion to indicate that they needed to be fast. There’s no real way to tell when the building was going to come down, not outside of the way the floors creaked with each step and occasionally it dipped when Buck took a wrong step. Albert’s voice echoed into the open sky, words not quite registering as Buck stepped over a part of debris. When he glanced up at his friend, he barely got a moment to comprehend what was happening before it did. He was able to see the roof bending under the weight of the fire that had systematically destroyed its integrity. Buck got a front row seat as Albert glanced up at the ceiling before his eyes found Buck, expression shifting from professional calm to objective fear. Buck took a half-step, anxiety racing through his veins, but it’s too late. The roof comes down and Albert disappears.

“ALBERT!” Buck shouted, the name torn from his throat without any real permission and it echoed up into the night sky. He wondered, briefly, if it would reach whatever higher power was above them as his hands collided with the wooden debris covering his friend. He tugged out a beam of wood, tossing it to the side and watched as the fire eagerly accepted the offering. Everything had gone silent for a startling moment. 

Moments later, the shrill beep of the PASS machine goes off. Buck thought it sounded too much like a flatline.

Eddie’s voice floats through the loft, filing itself away in every corner as Buck’s eyes flutter open and for a blissful second, nothing aches. Nothing hurts, though Buck’s mind still plays that constant beep in the back of his mind as he shakes himself awake. He forces himself to focus on Eddie’s voice, the calm tone enough to make the next breath come a little bit easier and he swings his feet over the side of the bed. He forces out the beeping and the smell of smoke that still feels too real as he leans over the railing to watch Eddie.

His boyfriend’s back is turned, bent over the stove, and the normal part of Buck tells him to formulate a sarcastic remark about his cooking. About the fact that Eddie is more likely to burn the apartment down than make a successful meal even though Buck knows it’s not true. Eddie, too, knows that they’re jokes but one man can only eat so much burnt pasta. Regardless, Buck can’t find it in him today to care. Not when everything still feels so numb.

“Yeah buddy, I know. We miss you too.” Eddie murmurs, voice soft as he glances over at the phone sitting beside the stovetop and Buck’s breath gets knocked out of him when he puts two and two together. He doesn’t know how he forgot about Christopher, how he forgot about the kid that’s practically his own, despite him constantly floating in the back of Buck’s mind. He doesn’t know how he never registered that Eddie being here meant time away from his son. He feels sick.

“It’s okay though. Bucky needs you more!” Chris replies, all conviction without a second of doubt and Buck’s glad he’s gripping the railing of the stairs because otherwise he would’ve fallen flat on his ass at the sound of the kid. Buck wonders, briefly, how much he knows about the situation and has to force the thought out of his head before he dwells on it for too long. There’s rustling on the other end of the line and he hears Carla’s soft tone calling for Chris, telling him it’s time to leave, and Buck’s heart aches at the fact that Eddie is missing another day with his son. “I love you dad! Take care of Buck. I’ll be okay!”

Eddie bids his son goodbye, an exaggerated kiss that has Christopher laughing on the other line, and Buck should feel his heart warm at the sight. He shouldn’t feel so numb as he watches Eddie interact with his son but everything feels cold despite the warmth running along his skin and Buck hates it. He hates it all. He must make some noise because as the phone clicks off, Eddie spins on his heels with a small, sad smile on his face as Buck trudges across the living room. Buck can’t quite draw his eyes away from the phone sitting on the side of the stove, a constant reminder of the fact that he’s taking Eddie away from his son and he should feel guilty about that. He does feel guilty about it but it’s nothing like the overwhelming ache that’s settled like an unwanted guest in his heart.

“Christopher?” Buck croaks out, his voice aching from disuse and he blinks because he didn’t even register the word until it came spilling past. Eddie, too, looks surprised but he doesn’t press on it other than giving a small nod of his head and a half-glance back at the dark phone. There’s no noise coming from the line, not that Buck expected there to be, but he wishes there was something to block out the ringing of his ears. It sounds too much like the PASS device and Buck threads his hands through his hair, desperate to make it stop as he collapses into the barstool. Tears burn at the back of his eyes as he thinks about Chris, telling Chris that Albert is gone. Despite only interacting a few times, there had been a clear bond between the two of them. A bond that Buck was responsible for breaking.

“He’s doing okay. Didn’t tell him much, just that something bad happened on shift. He knows that you need me.” Eddie answers and then a plate scrapes across the countertop. The sound would normally grate on Buck’s nerves, send a shiver of annoyance down his back at the nails against a chalkboard type sound but today he grabs onto it desperately. Anything but that ringing in his ears. When a plate appears in front of him, though, his stomach flips uncomfortably and he bites back a gag that threatens to overpower him. Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice and Buck’s thankful enough that he doesn’t comment on the fact that his stomach is twisting itself into knots at the simple thought of eating, “He’ll be with abuela tonight. Carla’ll take him to school tomorrow, then he’ll spend the weekend with Pepa. Hen offered to take him Monday and Tuesday if we need her to. Bobby also texted, he and Athena are willing to be on call for whenever we need them.”

Buck wants to say something, anything, about  how that’s unnecessary. Kind but unneeded. The words get trapped in his throat, though, and he’s not sure if the lump in his throat is tears or bile. He pushes the plate away instead of saying anything, nose scrunching up as he tries to swallow back the tight feeling in his throat, but Eddie doesn’t let the plate get far. In fact, even with Buck’s eyes trained on the counter top, it remains in his eyesight when Eddie stops it and gently pushes it back. It makes the same annoying sound.

“I know you’re not hungry.” Eddie explains, hand reaching out slowly and hovering for a moment before grasping at Buck’s chin to tug it up so they’re eye to eye, “I know you’re not. I still need you to try for me. It’s just a breakfast burrito, scrambled tofu, spinach, avocado.”

Buck hates the fact that such a simple gesture is enough to bring tears to his eyes, welling up and pressing over the edge until they’re spilling down his cheeks. Eddie’s thumb is quick to move, wiping away whatever it can reach, and Buck leans heavily against the palm of his partner’s hand. Eddie hates spinach and a new set of tears push their way out of Buck’s eyes, leaving a blurry image of his boyfriend across the bar. It’s the stupidest thing to leave him shaking through sobs but he can’t quite help it when Eddie’s hand is so gentle against his cheek and every breath leaves his body aching with grief. 

“I know, I know.” Eddie whispers, an underlying of grief in his tone that had Buck not been actively searching for, he would’ve likely missed it entirely. It’s not that he’s surprised, per se, he knows that Eddie and Albert were close. He knows that Eddie feels the same ache as the one that has made itself at home in Buck’s chest but he’s still surprised that Eddie is so open about it. Hiding emotions was something that his partner did religiously, such a perfected art that even Buck had a hard time seeing through it on occasion. This, right now, is the most open that Buck has seen his partner in the months since he left the 118. Regardless, Buck leans into it and lets the other man bring him back down, “I know it hurts Buck, I do. I’m right here, we’re going to get through this together.” 

He’s intentional in his lack of promise, Buck sees right through it, because there’s no promise that this will ever be okay. There’s no guarantee that Chimney will ever forgive him or that the ache in his chest will ever stop growing and hurting. There’s no promise that everything will be okay again, go back to life before everything went so crazy, but they’re going to try. And if they fail, which is more of a when than an if, they’ll still have each other. For now, Buck thinks that might be enough.

Eddie spends most of the afternoon on his feet, hands running across dusty surfaces in an attempt to find anything to do that’s not just sit and stare. Even though his eyes rarely straying from where Buck remains lifeless on the couch. By the time the sun has started to set behind the building across from Buck’s balcony, he’s pretty sure that the loft should be sparkling. In fact, a part of him is almost mad that it’s not. 

Getting Buck to eat breakfast had proven to be a difficult feat but dinner had been ten times harder, especially when Bobby and Athena showed up an hour prior with a casserole in one of those flimsy dishes. Buck hadn’t even blinked when Eddie greeted them and he’s half thankful that they didn’t ask to come in, knowing that getting them to leave after seeing Buck in the state he was in would be difficult. There had been a promise to stop by tomorrow, one that Eddie hears echoing in his ears as he warms up some of the casserole. It takes him longer than it should to dig out the paper plates and by the time he’s dropping it on the coffee table in front of Buck, his boyfriend is nodding off to the side.

“Come on baby, I know you’re tired but we gotta get some more food into you.” Eddie encourages and Buck looks resigned, glancing between the casserole and Eddie a few times before he reluctantly leans forward to grab it. Eddie hands over the plastic fork, deciding that disposable cutlery would lead to a better outcome when Buck inevitably decides to attempt dishes again. The plate he had dropped earlier in the day still sits in a garbage bag, a constant reminder to Eddie to take it out later. He watches Buck stab the casserole reluctantly, taking two bites before he gags just a little and shakes his head. 

Eddie sighs, running a hand down his face as he sets his piece to the side and wraps one arm around Buck’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer. The younger man goes easily, his entire body shaking as he buries his face into Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie wants nothing more than to wrap him up and protect him from the world. He’s not sure how long they sit there, Buck shivering against his side even with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but eventually he’s fallen into Eddie’s lap and his shoulder remains free. The casserole is cold by the time that Eddie returns to it, his stomach growling even though he can’t really taste anything. He’s not sure if it’s just his imagination or not but everything feels different in the world now—food tastes blander, the world a little darker around the edges, and even Eddie himself feels like a stranger in his own body. 

Maneuvering Buck up the stairs and into bed, somehow, is the easiest thing that Eddie’s done today because the younger man goes easily. He barely glances at the food on the table, nose scrunching up just a little before he allows Eddie to lead him up the stairs. He doesn’t bother trying to change what he’s wearing, simply face planting in the bed and leaving Eddie to wrestle the covers out from beneath him. He’s not sure if Buck is fully asleep by the time he tucks the blankets around his boyfriend but Eddie doesn’t bother to test it, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple before cleaning the downstairs as best he can. Silently, he apologizes to Bobby as he dumps the half-eaten casserole into the trash and pours a glass of water. 

The fridge light shines across the flooring and the beer in the door is tempting, much more than it ever has been. For a split moment, Eddie’s fingers wrap around the neck of one of them and he considers drinking until he can’t think. He considers anything to stop the pain and for a glorious moment, the simple thought of being drunk sounds like a perfect escape. Then his phone dings, a goodnight text from Christopher, and Buck snuffles upstairs. He slams the fridge shut, the glasses clinking as he does and he reaches blindly behind him for his phone. Water sloshes onto the floor but he forces himself to ignore it, moving from the kitchen to collapse on the stairs.

[To: Eddie | From: Abuela]

Goodnight dad! I love you! Tell Bucky I said I love him!

[To: Eddie | From: Carla]

Chris has a half day tomorrow, I’m taking him back to yours after
classes get out before going to Pepa’s. He wants to see you, if you
can make it. 

Eddie reads over them both more than once before shooting off a text to Bobby, asking if he could come by tomorrow to sit with Buck while Eddie popped out to see Chris. At least that way, Buck wouldn’t be alone but Chris wouldn’t have to see Buck in the state he’s in. Eddie downs half the cup of water, clenching his eyes shut tight and listens to the sheets rustle upstairs as Buck settles into a spot. The street lights cast a dim glow across the living room, painting it in this odd grayish orange that is so familiar with nighttime. Normally, Eddie doesn’t mind it. He loves the quiet of the night, the way that the city seems to sleep. Tonight he’s desperate for anything to focus on, anything to control the ache under his heart and the way his knuckles itch. He leans his head back against the railing and tries to breathe. Tomorrow’s going to be better, he tells himself. Not perfect, not okay, but better . Albert would’ve wanted that much.

Buck stood there for a moment, shock written across his face even as his walkie blared to life. He could hear Mehta yelling for him to respond but Buck couldn’t focus on anything but where Albert had disappeared under. The floor, miraculously, was still intact but the way that it dipped and swayed with every step didn’t make Buck hopeful that it would last for much longer. The debris was stacked in a way that each time he pulled, it creaked and shifted in a way that made Buck’s stomach twist in fear. The PASS device was still screaming in the air, the sharp pitch echoing up into the sky, and Buck’s walkie blared to life again in a demand for a report. 

“This is firefighter Buckley responding.” Buck answered, his voice shaking as he reached for another beam with one gloved hand, “The roof collapsed on firefighter Han, PASS device is going, I have not heard a response but am attempting to gain access to where he was. Shouldn’t take long. Will report once I have found him.”

Buck shut off the walkie moments after, not bothering to listen for Mehta’s response as he dug through more of the debris. It didn’t matter, really, what they had to say. Buck wasn’t leaving this house without Albert by his side. He refused. The PASS device echoes in his ears, a constant shrill noise that would be enough to drive anyone insane had Buck not been driven by pure adrenaline at the moment. Albert was under there. His brother was under there. Buck was not going to be walking away from this scene without him. 

Within seconds, a hand shot free from the debris that had been haphazardly cleared and Buck grips onto it. He can see Albert’s face, covered in soot, but the smile he was wearing through his cracked face visor was bright enough to light up the world. Buck took a minute to thank whoever was listening and used his free hand to shove off more of the debris until Albert was able to sit up. The PASS device quieted down immediately and Buck has never been more relieved in his life as he tugs his friend from the debris. Blood dripped down the side of his face, staining it red through the dust and soot, but he’s still got a bright smile on his face despite the fear that’s still underlying in his eyes. Buck relates to the look a little too well.

“Cap’s told you to get outta here.” Albert joked, one hand coming up to tap his walkie and Buck laughed as he used his free hand to reach up to flick it back on. Immediately, Mehta’s voice came through the speakers with an increasingly frantic tone. With a smirk, Buck pressed down on the walkie and shot static through the system in an attempt to get them all to quiet down.

“This is firefighter Buckley. I’ve got firefighter Han and we’re on our way out the front.” Buck responded and nodded at Albert, motioning toward the stairs leading out of the house. Albert took a few steps to the exit and Buck could hear the exact moment his foot collided with the stairs. It cracked and screamed in protest, finally giving way to the destruction the fire had created. Albert disappeared within seconds and Buck’s fingers still pressed hard against the walkie as he fell to his knees with Albert’s name on his lips. 

It was far too similar to moments before. The fear, though, felt fake his time around and Buck’s heart didn’t pound the way it had the first time. Even the walkie remained silent when they heard their probie fall to the ground. The PASS device remained silent.

Buck can’t breathe. Another lick of fire flashed in front of his eyes and the hole gaped before him, starting to break into a million tiny pieces around the edge as the fire made its way through. It was too far down to tell, blackened smoke distorting the bottom floor of the house, but Buck thought he could still see where Albert collided with the floor. He was almost certain that he could still see the outline of blood as his friend, his brother, had hit the ground with a sickening thump.

Waking up from nightmares is always the worst feeling in the world. Waking up from watching your friend die, knowing it’s real even when you open your eyes to face the world, is somehow worse. Buck immediately feels sick and can taste the acidic bile rising in his throat as he rolls desperately out of the bed. The sheets come with him, getting sprawled across the floor of the loft as he stumbles his way into the bathroom. The door slams shut with a finality that echoes around the loft and his clumsy fingers manage to turn the lock just as bile rises up his throat. He barely manages to collapse in front of the toilet before he’s losing what little he had managed today.

“Buck?” Eddie asks softly, knuckles gently tapping along the wooden door and Buck tries to focus on that instead of the sound of blood rushing in his ears. It feels too far away, though, and Buck can’t bring himself to focus on that when his body lurches forward with another half-hearted gag. Tears burn at the back of his eyes as he reaches up to flush the toilet and he scoots back in the dark room until his back collides with the door. Being pressed up against it, he can feel Eddie test the handle before realizing it’s locked, and he wants to say something but the words get stuck in his throat. Instead, he listens as Eddie slides down the other side of the door and tilts his head back when he feels Eddie hit the ground. 

“Buck? Baby, you okay?” Eddie asks softly and Buck doesn’t know how he’s meant to respond to that. Is he okay? No. But he’s also not actively dying or injured or anything that warrants any of the fear or worry that’s swirling around in Eddie’s mind right now. A whimper tears its way out of Buck’s throat in lieu of an answer and he feels Eddie’s fingers reach under the door, brushing across the barely uncovered skin of Buck’s tailbone. “I’m right here. Come out whenever you’re ready. I’m right here.”

Buck drops a hand to his side, sliding his fingers under the door until they can find Eddie’s own and threads their way through them as best he can. Eddie’s thumb rubs gently up and down Buck’s finger, the soothing gesture the only bit of normality that either of them can find in the darkening world. Buck rests his head against the doorframe and tries to breathe, ignoring the way that his entire world still smells like smoke.

The bathroom is dark, Buck hadn’t remembered the light in his desperate flee from the bedroom, but it’s nice that he can pretend that time isn’t passing. Sitting here, Eddie at his back, Buck can pretend that the world isn’t turning and that the outside world can’t do anything to him. He can pretend, for a few beautiful and peaceful moments, that he didn’t lose Albert. That Chimney isn’t driving from Boston with his niece. Buck can pretend that his family isn’t shattering into unrecognizable pieces on the floor of his living room. Right here, Buck can just breathe.

“Call me if you need anything.” Eddie murmurs, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s curls and Buck presses up against the hand in search of the minuscule amount of comfort he can find in the movement. It’s soft enough that Eddie manages a soft smile, though it remains broken around the edges, but Buck tries his best to mimic it. Ravi stands awkwardly off to one side, bouncing on the balls of his feet as his eyes flitter between the two of them and Eddie pauses beside him to speak, “He’s not been doing much. I’ve already gotten him to eat and drink, just—make sure he doesn’t go anywhere is the big thing. I don’t want him alone right now. Don’t feel bad if he doesn’t talk, he’s not been responding.”

If Buck was more aware, he might feel guilty or angry at the notion of having to be babysat but he knows if the roles were reversed, he’d be doing the same. Eddie clicks his tongue once, clearly trying to find anything he might’ve missed, but Buck isn’t able to decipher what’s going on in his head this time. Not today.  Not any of the past few days, to be honest, and he blinks uselessly in the direction of the kitchen as if he’s trying to find where Eddie had been standing this morning. There’s still plates drip drying in the drainer beside the sink and Buck’s certain that if he got closer, he’d be able to see the water shining from the sunlight shining through the windows. He kind of hates it.

“So—just watch him?” Ravi repeats, the words sounding weird on his tongue like he doesn’t quite believe what Eddie is saying and Buck gets it. For a split second, when Ravi first knocked on the door that morning, Buck hadn’t quite believed that it was him who Eddie called either. Though, finding out Bobby and Hen were working made it a little bit easier to know that they weren’t just avoiding him out of frustration or anger. The knowledge helps settle a little of the anxiety swirling in his stomach but even still, the idea of being with someone who doesn’t know how low he can get is more than a little terrifying. 

Buck doesn’t draw his eyes away from the television as he listens to Eddie shoves his shoes on, the tell-tale sound of the end of the laces hitting the coffee table in the entryway. Eddie always unties his shoes before taking them off. Buck’s, on the other hand, remain half-tied together in a haphazard knot until they eventually give way. Sometimes, Buck wonders if it’s just the universe continuously proving how different they are. He doesn’t know how he ended up with Eddie, but Buck couldn’t be more thankful.

“Yeah. Like I said, I’ll be gone an hour, hour and a half max. Just want to swing by Abuela’s to see my kid then I’ll be back. I’ll bring back some leftovers, you can take some home. I know it’s not much but—” Eddie trails off but Buck can’t tell why, can barely see their blurry images reflected in the screen of the TV and can’t even tell how they’re moving. He thinks maybe Ravi shakes his head or holds up a hand but Buck will never be positive. Not when he can’t even bring himself to turn around to look. He hears Ravi say something, voice dropped just enough that Buck can’t quite comprehend it, but he doesn’t really care. His leg bounces in rhythm with the background music on the television and Buck doesn’t bother to stop it. 

“Hey, babe.” Eddie whispers, his voice soft as he appears suddenly in front of Buck somewhere between one blink and the next. Buck flinches back just a little, curling in on himself into the couch as much as he can before he registers his partner in front of him. Eddie’s hand is warm as it comes to rest on his cheek, fingers calloused in a way that Buck would know without even looking, and he can’t quite help the way that he leans into his partner. Not when it’s the only comfort he’s been able to find these past few days and he watches Eddie’s lips move more than listens to what he’s saying, “I’m going to go see Chris. I’ll be back soon.” 

Chris’ name dances on the tip of Buck’s tongue and he mouths the word a few times, desperate to find some sort of sound to put behind it. He can’t and Eddie simply nods, thumb running over Buck’s cheek in a calm circle before soft lips press against his temple. It’s a goodbye and a promise wrapped into one, a promise to return, and Buck knows it better than anyone else might. Within the next blink, the door is latching behind Eddie and the loft delves into silence outside of the white noise of the television. Buck figures it could be worse.

Eddie’s hands don’t feel as tight around the steering wheel as they normally would, though he’ll be the first to admit that they’re shaking when he lifts them up. The way that Chris’ face fell when he told him about Albert had been enough to nearly break Eddie’s already fragile heart. It certainly hadn’t helped when the first question out of Chris’ mouth was focused on Buck, no concern for anyone but Buck. It was enough to shatter the barely crafted facade that Eddie had managed to create sometime between leaving Buck’s apartment and pulling into the driveway of Abuela’s house. 

His car smells like home, in an odd sense, the spices of the food that had been shoved into his hands before he even crossed the barrier into the house leaving a familiar and love-filled feeling settling over the pressure on Eddie’s heart. A glance at the passenger seat is enough of a reminder that they’re not alone in this, that they’ve got a family on their side that’ll forever be there regardless. It makes Eddie feel just a little bit better about the fact that last he heard, Chim had nothing to say about seeing Buck again. He knows that it leaves an ache that’ll never quite heal, knows that even if Chim comes back to them, it will likely never be the same. 

His hand runs over the cloth bags in the passenger seat, a stark reminder of days spent grocery shopping throughout the city with Buck. He knows this isn’t permanent, this cold and lifeless form of his partner, but Eddie’s stomach still twists uncomfortably every time Buck blinks at him instead of responding. He slides the back around his wrist, letting it slam into the crook of his elbow as he tugs them out of the truck with a small sigh. Buck’s apartment building always towers over him but it doesn’t usually make him feel unsafe to the point that his stomach flops uneasily as he swipes the key against the lock. 

Eddie isn’t as surprised as he should be when he hears Ravi’s voice echoing through the apartment when he turns the key, pushing the door open as silently as he can. He can see around the corner, into the living room just barely, and he’s a little more surprised than previously when he finds Buck sitting up with his head resting on his knees. His head is tilted to the side, like he’s trying to think and understand what is being said but he’s struggling. Eddie’s heart shouldn’t skip as many beats as it does at the sight. 

“I know it’s not the same. I know that I can’t ever imagine what it was like to watch Albert die but—I do know what it’s like to lose a brother. And to blame yourself for it.” Ravi looks down at his hands and Eddie can tell they’re shaking just a bit but Buck doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he worries his bottom lip between his teeth and keeps his eyes trained on Ravi across from him. Had he looked up, Eddie’s sure that he would’ve been spotted immediately. Something, though, settles in his chest as he watches Buck lean his head completely to the side until he is leaning against his knees and something as close to understanding comes across his face.

“My brother had juvenile leukemia.” Buck whispers, his voice hoarse on the edges and it sounds more like it’s a choked admission than anything else but Eddie still reels at the sound of his partner’s voice filling the cracks in the walls. Sure, he had murmured their son’s name a day or so ago, but something felt different about it this time. It left the air feeling safe and real, the air tastes like home, and Eddie feels like he can finally breathe. Even when Buck’s eyes are red around the rims and the fact that his voice shakes when he speaks again, “He died uh—when I was a baby. Bone marrow treatment didn’t work.”

Eddie can tell the exact moment that Ravi registers what Buck wasn’t saying, the way that the lines blurred and his breath caught as it always does when he mentions his parents. Eddie can tell in the way that Ravi clenches his fingers into the palms of his hands and by the sharp way that he inhales. It reminds Eddie a little too much of his reaction that first time, when Buck showed up at his door with his curls a mess and his eyes rimmed red. It makes Eddie’s chest ache, like someone’s driven a knife straight into his stomach and twisted it tight. Ravi’s eyes turn a little red around the rims, tears welling up so suddenly that Eddie has to blink more than once to register the situation. 

“Designer baby?” Ravi asks, voice wavering in a way that tells Eddie that Ravi knows the word better than any of them do. When Buck avoids his eyes, Eddie can tell it’s all the answer that the probie needs, a simple admission even without words. Ravi swallows harshly, hands wrapping tight around the arms of the chair he’s sitting in as if he’s trying to steady himself as he continues, “I—that’s not right. I’m—I’m sorry it didn’t work. I, uh, I don’t know how much Hen’s told you about me. That I uh—I had cancer.”

Eddie bites back the gasp, able to hide the way that his breath is sharp when he inhales, and his hands tighten around the cloth handles of the bag to keep it from falling onto the ground with a bang. Buck’s head shoots up, his eyes finally finding Ravi’s own and the shock is written clear on his face. Ravi, obviously, is just as confused as Buck is and even though Eddie can’t see his face, he’s sure that he’s raising an eyebrow in a clear attempt to address the shock. It’s clear that Ravi had expected this to have become common knowledge.

“Yea. I um—I thought you all would’ve known that by now. Bu uh, no, I had this friend when I was a kid, right? His name was Sammy, their family and mine were best friends. We were the closest in age, out of my family, and he was practically my brother in every way that mattered. So we were the first to know about his diagnosis.” Ravi inhales sharply and Eddie’s half-thankful that he hasn’t had the chance to slide off his shoes, free hand wrapping as quietly as possible around the doorknob as he can. They can’t see him, not really, but Eddie’s well that this is meant to be a private conversation that he’s walked in on. “We got tested, like as soon as we could. We weren’t really expecting to be a match, I mean it’s so so rare for people outside of family to match but I matched. We were so excited, starting the process right away you know? Just needing to get it off the ground. We didn’t find out until a week later, when they ran some tests. Neuroblastoma, intermediate risk. I—I wanted to put off treatment but my parents wouldn’t let me. Sammy, he uh, he died a few weeks later but not after the doctor suggested a designer baby. I don’t think I’ve ever seen  them so mad before in—”

Ravi’s cut off by Eddie shutting the door as softly as he can, no sound echoing down the silent hall and part of his heart aches painfully in his chest. He knows where this story was going, knows the turn in Ravi’s voice as he continues bodes nothing good, and Eddie takes a few steps closer to the elevator for good measure. He lets the keys jingle as he gets closer, shoving the metal key into the lock as loud as he can despite the fact that nothing clicks the way it should. He hopes, belatedly, that neither of them notice.

When the door swings open, loud and wide this time around, Buck is staring up at the door with a deer caught in the headlights glance. Ravi’s hands are clasped tightly, but they’re shaking enough that Eddie can see it even from where he’s standing in the doorway and the probie is quick to dismiss himself to the restroom. They both pretend that they don’t hear the breathy sob that seemingly echoes in the silence of the apartment. Eddie briefly glances over at Buck and wonders, just for a moment, if he knows. Based on the glint in his eyes, something buried deep under the grief that’s been in his eyes for the past few days, Eddie knows that Buck knows he was standing there. He supposes, though, that he can live with it. He hears the quiet murmur from the bathroom, something neither of them can place, and Buck reaches for him greedily.

If Eddie presses his lips a little harsher to Buck’s lips and if Buck’s fingers dig a little tighter into Eddie’s hips to keep him close, well, that’s their story to keep. 

“I can still smell the smoke, y’know?” Buck whispers, admitting the words like they’re something sour in his mouth and his hands wrap tight around the railing of the balcony. Sirens blare past them, echoing back and forth against the towering buildings, and the red of the firetruck is stark against the darker gray sky. It’s supposed to rain today, and the air smells like there’s a storm coming. Eddie’s hand rests over Buck’s, fingers brushing across the back of his hand, and makes a noise of agreement to encourage Buck to continue, “I can still smell it, if I think about it for too long. It’s so bad. I hate it.”

Eddie hums in understanding, leaning his head to the side and tucking his head up against Buck’s neck to press a soft peck to the bottom of his chin. Buck’s hand flips skyward, allowing Eddie to lace their fingers together as another firetruck wails past the apartment. The cars following seem dark and dim under the sky, like even the world is mourning the loss of a LA hero. Eddie can practically see it happening in front of him and he squeezes their joint hands tight. He’s almost certain that Buck’s heart is breaking.

“The blood was all over my hands, Eddie. All over them. He just wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Buck whispers, tears welling up in his eyes within a split second and Eddie’s heart hurts within the next breath when he catches sight of the red rims around his eyes. He glances up at Eddie, their eyes meeting before he bites his lips and drops his eyes back to his hands. “It was all over. He—he fell so far. It—it was so bad. There was blood everywhere and he wasn’t responding and I knew he was dead but I couldn’t stop. I broke three ribs before Mehta pulled me away.”

His voice is unsteady and Eddie’s heart shatters in his chest, squeezing their joint hands tight before slowly turning Buck from watching the procession under them. Buck drops his head against his shoulder, body shaking with barely bitten back sobs, and Eddie feels more useless than he ever has before. The ache tearing through Buck’s chest is clear in each choked off cry, the way that his shoulders heave with each unsteady breath, and Eddie can’t do anything but stand there. Their hands are joint and hanging between them as the sirens blare past, nothing but silence encasing them. Eddie hates the way that the air tastes like grief between them. 

“I’m so sorry Buck.” Eddie whispers, free hand playing with the curls loose at the back of his boyfriend’s neck and he turns his head to press a kiss to the curls. There’s nothing else he can do, this isn’t something that he can fix, and Eddie’s never been more aware of that than in this moment. He’s pretty sure that there’s nothing he’ll ever be able to do to stop this from hurting. Some part of him isn’t even entirely sure that Chim coming back would be enough to fix the hole that Buck’s slid down into.

“It was everywhere. The smoke, the blood, I can still feel it sometimes.” Buck whispers brokenly, his voice breaking at the same time that his legs give out from under him and Eddie’s quick to lower them to the ground. Despite the barrier of the balcony, it does very little to block the image of the procession that’s been bleached into Eddie’s mind since the first day that he saw one. There’s nothing he can do to block out the sirens. He brushes his hand through Buck’s hair, resting it across his shoulders, and the sob that tears itself from his partner sounds like a cry for help. They’re drowning, barely keeping their heads above water, and Eddie can only do so much.

“What can I do to help?” Eddie whispers, lips brushing against the top of Buck’s ears before resting on his temple. His breath is warm against Buck’s skin, blowing back against his own face as he watches Buck’s chest heave with the next breath. He waits for a moment, the air suddenly and startlingly silent in the air as the sirens of the trucks switch off the closer they get. Everything feels strange, knowing that Albert is about to be forever gone from this world, and it feels like the world isn’t quite spinning right. 

“I—I—” Buck cuts himself off with a broken noise and his voice still sounds like it’s being pulled from his throat without his permission. Hoarse from disuse, aching from the fact that he’s not quite been able to find what he’s meant to say, and Eddie runs another hand through Buck’s curls in hopes of providing some comfort. “It should’ve been me, Eddie. It should’ve been me.”

Eddie wants to say something, can taste the words on the tip of his tongue but he never quite gets them out when the alarm on his phone beeps to life. He knows what it’s for, knows exactly what time it is, and yet he can’t quite reach for it before Buck’s eyes flicker over to it. He glances up at Eddie with shiny eyes before they flick towards the door into his loft, the television hidden just barely from view where they’re sitting. The funeral is starting any moment now, the ceremony that Buck refused to go to with the knowledge that Chim would be there too. It was a line he drew, knowing that it wouldn’t do either of them any good to bring the discontent to a funeral meant for neither of them. 

“I can’t save anyone. I couldn’t save Chris or—or you.” Buck whispers and Eddie isn’t quite quick enough to say what he wants before Buck is barreling on like nobody is there. He’s on his feet within the next breath, pacing the length of the balcony and the anger pouring off of him as clear as day. Eddie hates seeing it cross his partner’s face, marring the normal peaceful expression that’s normally there. “I couldn’t save Albert. I’m just a fucking cycle of failure and now Albert’s dead because of me. You almost died because of me. Chris almost died because of me.”

Eddie starts to open his mouth and starts to say something when Buck flings open the glass door to get inside. It falls shut behind him with a slam that Eddie is surprised didn’t cause the glass to shatter immediately, even as it bangs open and closed a few more times. Buck’s pacing doesn’t stop once he gets inside and even through the glass, Eddie can see the way his hands clenched into fists. He knows that he’ll be cleaning blood off his palms later and Eddie clenches his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears that threaten to well up against his will. He hates seeing Buck hurting, hates seeing his partner so shattered at his core that he can't even breathe without threatening to break in the wind, but there’s nothing he can do. Eddie hates that the most. 

The funeral is playing by the time he gets inside, Mehta’s voice is calm and stoic as always as he talks about Albert’s achievements. Eddie gets a front row seat as Buck’s legs give out beneath him and he falls back into the cushions of the couch, nothing holding back the way that he curls in on himself. There’s specs of blood decorating his palms but Buck flinches away when Eddie reaches for them. He feels useless, watching his partner splinter into enough pieces that Eddie isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to pick them up again. He’s damn well going to try though.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral.” Chim growls into the phone, clearly looking for a fight based on the way his words are sharp and Eddie takes a steadying breath in an attempt to not react. He slides through Buck’s balcony door, tossing a cursory glance over at his partner who hasn’t moved from the ball he’s curled in. The television remains black, having been flicked off moments before Albert had been lowered into the ground. The remote is cracked down the side from where Buck threw it hard against the brick wall and Eddie thinks it’s a little too fitting of the way their family is splitting.

“I watched it on television.” Eddie answers instead, forcing himself to swallow back the frustration that wells up when Chim scoffs across the line. They’re spiraling closer and closer to a fight that Eddie is desperate to avoid but the anger is flooding his veins with each heaving breath that Chimney takes as they wait. There’s a brief silence echoing around the line, outside of the cars that are streaming past wherever Chimney was and Eddie stares down at the parking lot with a tired expression. The silence feels drowning and overwhelming, something tight enough that it squeezes at Eddie’s chest as he waits. 

“Buck didn’t want to come?” Chim scoffs, sounding so frustrated that Eddie can practically hear the tears caught in his throat and it makes the ache in Eddie’s chest grow further, “So of course, you don’t come. Because of course, you care more about him than the people who are fucking apart of your family.” 

Eddie forces himself to take an unsteady breath, biting back the heat of anger that rises up in his stomach. It threatens to take hold and he can feel his knuckles itch with the need to do something other than swing uselessly at his side. His other hand tightens around the phone, plastic creaking under his grip until Eddie has to force himself to stop. A brief glance over at Buck was enough to make him force down the anger that’s taken home above the ache in his chest.

Eddie gets the anger, better than anyone else might have, and he knows the feeling of wanting to hit something so hard that it shatters beneath your fingers. He remembers the anger so well that he can practically still see it every time he closes his eyes. It wasn’t something he would be forgetting anytime soon and Eddie wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not someone who was his family for better or for worse. 

“Chim, I’m here for you. I’m going to continue to be there for you. But—I also am going to be here for Buck because he is also my family.” Eddie answers, forcing his voice to remain steady and he tightens his free hand into a fist as tight as he can as he paces the length of the balcony. The sky remains dark and the clouds roll over buildings. The world is mourning just the same as their little family is. “Buck is my partner. And Chim, you’re not the only one who lost a brother. The only difference? He blames himself.”

Eddie can hear the gears whirring in Chimney’s head as he puts together what was said and bites back any arguments that may have been on the tip of his tongue. He can practically see, if he closes his eyes tight enough that stars appear, the way that Chim’s lip curls up and his nose scrunches. It’s a tell-tale sign of disgust and anger that he’s desperately trying to hold back and the like remains silent for a minute. 

“He should.” Chimney huffs quietly, something that Eddie thinks might not be for his ears but the words are clear enough that he couldn’t misunderstand it if he tried. The anger and frustration is spilling past with each word that Eddie is far too aware of to do anything but listen. He can hear haggard breaths as Chimney bites back the threatening sob and Eddie’s heart aches, no matter how upset he may be. Chim doesn’t deserve this pain, the pain of knowing your brother is dead and you couldn’t do anything to save him. It hurts more than Eddie’s sure he could ever imagine. “Buck watched him die. Do—I mean, did he even say anything about it? I know I told you but has he even shown any—any emotion? Anything ?”

“Chim. You’re family, which means I can slap you upside the head and say this.” Eddie takes a moment to steady himself and tosses another glance towards Buck through the glass wall of his balcony. A protective need crackles like fire in his chest and he has to shove down the anger that wells up beside it as he thinks about how Chim has been treating his partner. “You’ve worked with Buck longer than I have. Can you, honestly, tell me that he wouldn’t have done everything in his power to try? Buck’s barely spoken, barely eaten, since this happened and you don’t get to call and accuse him of being at fault. You’re right, you did tell me what happened, which means you know as well as I do that it was an accident.”

Chimney sucks in an unsteady breath, something that sounds closer to a sob than anything else and then he slams his hands forward. Eddie can hear them collide with the steering column, back and forth as he takes out the anger on something that won’t fight back. It’s not enough of a relief, Eddie knows that better than anyone, and when the horn screams to life, Eddie doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. What does, however, catch his attention is the fact that the horn echoes around the sky instead of just through the line. Eddie’s not as shocked as he should be to know that Chim is likely parked somewhere nearby but the longer the horn goes, the less likely it is to be anyone else.

“Chim. You need your brother.” Eddie whispers and listens to the way that the next shout is choked off with a sob like he just can’t hold it back anymore, “You both need to be with each other. So get your ass up here.”

For a minute there’s no sound other than Chim fighting back another sob, the sniffles that are tell-tale of tears welling up without permission. Then the car door cracks open and slams shut, the beep of the lock engaging an overwhelming sound of relief in Eddie’s chest as he hears soft footfalls over the line. It goes dead within seconds after the door to the complex creaks open. 

Buck’s reaction when he sees Chimney is nearly enough to shatter whatever carefully crafted facade that Eddie’s made and all the anger flees his system as he watches Buck’s eyes well up with tears in perfect tandem with Chim. The whispered apologies and begged forgiveness have Eddie clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to blink away the burning in his eyes. Chim’s hands are tight around Buck’s shoulders and Eddie’s far enough away that he can’t quite hear what they’re saying but knows it’s something by the way that Buck’s knuckles go white with desperation as he clings to Chimney. He’s about to step away, find something to do that’s not stand here in awkward silence when Buck’s hand reaches out blindly for his own. There’s only so much that Eddie can deny Buck, and when he looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes and a shaky smile, there’s nothing in this world that would stop him from being with his partner. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his family.