Chapter Text
The tree is perfect.
It’s standing on a hill, overlooking a meadow and a creek. In the distance, a street curls around the landscape like a silver snake. The branches of the tree are dense and thick, perfect to climb and find a place to sit. A place to hide.
Tommy found the tree one day in summer when the library was closed and he didn’t feel like going home to his Dad, so he just walked. He walked until he found the tree. Now he comes here regularly, reading a book or watching his surroundings.
It’s quiet. Peaceful. A few birds chirp in the branches around him, hidden by leaves. Tommy feels his thoughts drifting away as he blinks up at the sky and at the passing clouds, whole worlds slowly taking form in his mind.
An unexpected voice harshly pulls him out of his daydream. “Hey! You lost your shoe!”
Tommy frowns, looking down only to see an unfamiliar boy of his age standing under his tree. He’s holding one of Tommy’s shoes in the air and waves with it, a big smile on his broad face. He’s sturdy. Tommy sees tousled light brown curls and blue eyes. A pink birthmark above the left one.
Tommy wiggles his toes, glancing at his feet, the left one only covered by a sock. He didn’t even notice he was only wearing one shoe.
“Can I come up?” The boy asks.
Tommy shrugs. He doesn’t really know what to do or say in such an unexpected situation. It’s not like he ever had company here before. If the boy wants to climb the tree, no one can hold him back. It’s not like Tommy owns it.
He watches anxiously and curiously as the boy climbs, reaching for branches, testing if they are going to hold, his brows furrowed in concentration and the tip of his tongue visible between his tongue. He makes his way up slowly until he reaches the branch Tommy is sitting on.
“I did it!” The boy exclaims gleefully when he manages to stand on it and give the shoe back, his eyes sparkling - only to slip and almost fall backwards and down, arms flailing as he hiccups in shock, trying to catch his balance. Tommy reaches out quickly, gripping the boy’s hoodie. “Sit,” he says, and the other boy obeys, eyes filled with startled relief.
“Thanks,” he gasps. “Mum would have killed me. I already fell off a tree last month. She said it was expensive. What’s your name?”
“Tommy. Yours?”
“Evan.” He scrunches his nose. “Are you really just a Tommy?”
Tommy shrugs. “I like being just a Tommy.”
He doesn’t like how Thomas sounds when it comes from an angry teacher, scolding him for being distracted. Or from his father. His grandmother only calls him Tommy. And he loves her. If he could, he would spend the whole day with her, but she’s at the hospital now because of her broken hip, and Tommy isn’t allowed to go alone, so he has to wait for his father to be in a good enough mood to take him there for visiting hours.
“Okay, Tommy.” Evan smiles. “Wow. This is cool,” he adds, letting his gaze wander. “You can see so far from here!”
Tommy glances at the boy. His heart does a weird thing. Feels like the flutter of a butterfly wing. Is this an opportunity to make a friend?
He doesn’t really have friends. It’s not easy to make them. Everyone just says: talk to kids. It’s easy.
But whenever Tommy tries, they look at him like he’s some kind of weird insect. Or they laugh.
Apparently, neither facts about cool planes nor the fascinating eating habits of buzzards are good conversation starters when you want to make friends your age.
But this boy … He seems different.
He’s fun. Simple to talk to. He‘s fidgety, always moving, always talking, always laughing, jumping between topics. Tommy doesn’t mind. He’s glad to be able to listen for once and he’s impressed by Evan’s knowledge about various animals. Even buzzards.
Evan isn’t too thrilled about going home either, saying his parents don’t really care about him. “One time,” he says, “I spent a whole day in the basement. They didn’t even notice.”
Tommy’s stomach clenches in sympathy. Maybe they really could be friends? But Tommy reminds himself that he shouldn’t move too fast this time. He knows from experience that being too eager is just as bad as hardly trying. Like everything in life, it’s an act of balance. It only takes one word to destroy things. Humans are fast to stop liking you. Not like animals.
Tommy is almost about to ask Evan if he wants to meet here again tomorrow. No. The day after tomorrow. He doesn’t get the chance, though.
“You do know that you have to get down from here eventually, right?” Evan asks him seriously, a crease between his brows, eyes scanning Tommy’s face. “You can’t stay here forever.”
Tommy frowns. “Yeah, I know.”
Strange. It’s unnecessary information. He has to eat after all. Eat. Sleep. Go to school. He has to live his daily life. Has to pretend there’s nothing wrong with his family. Like no shadows are growing on the walls, slowly creeping in. As if it’s not too quiet. As if they’re not waiting for his father stamping through the door like a dragon, eyes reddened, breath hot and words sour. Tommy’s throat tightens. He doesn’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to see the shadows grow.
Evan’s shoulder nudges his. “Come on. It’s getting dark.”
He’s right. The sun is setting. It looks like the fire behind them is on fire. Red and orange flames eat away at the blue. That was fast, Tommy thinks, confused. Wasn’t it afternoon when he climbed the tree?
“I don’t want to go alone,” he says quietly, suddenly feeling anxious.
Evan smiles at him. He takes Tommy’s hand. “You won’t be alone. I’m going with you. Come on. We have to cross the creek.”
Tommy stares at their hands. Somehow, he feels safe with Evan, even though he barely knows him.
They climb down and start walking. Slowly at first, but increasingly faster. Evan sets the pace. And somehow, he seems to be in a hurry all of a sudden, his eyes staring straight ahead, his expression determined.
Anxiety rises. A slow trickle changes into a flood, sloshing around in Tommy’s stomach like ice water.
Evan pulls him. Tommy stumbles after him, struggling to breathe. A shiver runs over his back, the hairs on his neck stand up, and he’s getting goosebumps. Something about this is wrong. Something …
Behind them, it’s getting dark too fast. Almost seems like the darkness is chasing them. Shadow fingers, reaching out, trying to reach them before they can cross the meadow and jump over the stream. But that’s nonsense. Things like that only happen in books and movies.
“Come on,” Evan says again, urgently. “Faster, Tommy. Faster.”
I can’t. You’re too fast for me. I can’t keep up …
Tommy desperately tries to cling to Evan’s hand - his anchor - as the world rushes past in distorted colours. It definitely feels like they are running from something now. But from what?
Faster. Faster. Faster.
They are running, their fingers intertwined, and there’s the creek and - Evan’s hand slips out of Tommy’s. No. Tommy stumbles over his own foot - no, over your open shoelace because you were too stupid again to tie it properly, why can’t you do anything right, Thomas?! - and he falls, catching himself with his hands, which burn as they make contact with the earth. And then, with a terrifying silence, it’s getting dark.
Utterly dark.
Panic tightens his throat. He’s been too slow. The shadows caught him.
“Evan? Evan! Where are you?” Tommy calls, reaching around in the dark. Nothing. There’s nothing there. Nothing but cool earth and little stones cutting into his skin and flesh. “Evan!”
Please … Don’t leave me. Don’t …
No answer is coming. He’s alone in the dark, coldness creeping up on him. Tommy sits on the ground and pulls his knees to his chest with a helpless sob. He doesn’t know what to do. He can’t see. He can’t see where he’s going. And he doesn’t hear anything but his own frantic breaths, his blood rushing in his ears and his heart racing, beating against his ribs.
He’s lost. Alone. Forgotten. Abandoned.
Tommy closes his eyes, wishing himself back to his tree. Back to the sky. To the sun.
For a volatile moment, he feels like someone is calling his name. Is telling him to come back. But the phantom words fade in the darkness. With a numb solemness, Tommy accepts that they are a figment of his imagination.
He’s alone. And he always will be.
“Tommy. Come back.”
The words fade. Become one with the silence in the room, only broken by the hiss of the ventilator and the beeping of the heart monitor.
Buck swallows, feeling how dry his throat and mouth are from all the talking he did the last few hours. He sighs and puts the book he was reading to Tommy away, his eyes burning. He closes them for a moment, leaning his head back, feeling the exhaustion hitting him like a truck.
Where are you? He wonders, looking at Tommy’s still face. Where are you right now? Are you dreaming? Are you trying to find a way out of the coma? Or are you not there at all? Are you at a place where no one can reach you, lost to the world? Lost to me?
There’s no way to know for sure if Tommy can hear him. But all the doctors encouraged Buck to talk to him. They and the nurses … They all look at Buck with sympathy in their eyes and try to give him hope.
We are not even together anymore, Buck thinks bitterly.
A sudden wave of rage hits him. He curls a hand into a fist, thoughts screaming, Come back. So that I can finally yell at you. How dare you leave me behind like that for weeks, then crash your helicopter and fall into a coma before we get the chance to talk like adults?! I still care about you, idiot. I still…
“Any changes?”
Buck winces when Bobby enters the room, giving Tommy a searching look and then focusing on Buck.
“No.” Buck shakes his head. “Just the same as usual. Nothing but an occasional twitch of a muscle, which doesn’t mean anything. But … I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like he’s here with me, you know? Like I can feel his presence. And then there are other moments when I feel like he’s gone.”
Bobby nods. He’s not frowning. Or laughing. He just sits on the chair beside Buck, folding his hands in his lap. “Have you eaten today?”
“Not really,” Buck admits, only now noticing how empty his stomach is.
“Come home with me to have dinner,” Bobby tells him.
Buck hesitates. It’s always difficult to come here. It’s even more difficult to leave. Because he has this fear that when he leaves, something is going to happen. And then he will have to live with the fact that he wasn’t there.
Bobby seems to read his thoughts. “I don’t think anything is going to change tonight, Buck,” he says gently. “You heard what his doctor said.”
“Yeah …”
Stable. Stable but not strong enough to wake up. In a coma. His body needs rest. Needs time to heal from the major damage it suffered. It’s a miracle he’s even breathing.
Buck will never forget the call. Will never forget the hollowness of Eddie's voice when he said his name. Will never forget how he somehow knew immediately.
“Is he …”
“He’s been alive when we brought him in. Barely. He’s in surgery now. If you …”
“I’m coming.”
It wasn’t something he had to think about. He grabbed his jacket even before finishing his sentence.
“Buck,” Bobby says, his hand brushing Buck’s back, pulling him back to the present. “Come on.”
“Yeah. I … alright.” Buck gets up on legs that feel like jelly. His body tingles from being in the same position for too long. He throws one last look at Tommy and takes his hand after a moment of hesitance - is he allowed to do this? It hurts to think like that … - giving it a careful squeeze. “I’ll be back,” he says quietly. “I … I miss you.”
It’s nothing but the truth. It’s been Buck’s truth for the last three weeks.