Chapter Text
Buck has often felt underprepared for much of his life. His entire existence has felt like playing catch-up, trying (and failing) to become the adult that people are expecting him to be. He constantly feels like he's flailing, disappointing, not enough.
He tries, though. He tries to help the people in his life. He tries to anticipate when they'll need him so he can step in and ease the burden they carry. He couldn't help Bobby, though—the man who died the martyr that Buck was supposed to be.
That was Buck's fate. And even then, he failed.
"You're going to be okay, Buck. Remember that. They're going to need you. I love you, kid."
Bobby’s final words to him rattle around in his head as he hangs up the phone, having just received a phone call that will undoubtedly alter the course of his entire life.
–
Everything seems to be fine. Well, not that Buck really understands what fine really is anymore. With Chimney finally agreeing to be captain of the 118, a new normal has settled over him and his team. Bobby’s ghost lingers in the station, grief so thick he sometimes feels like he’s choking on it.
The grief feels like shame when he remembers Eddie's face in his kitchen, months ago. Why hadn’t he been the one to call Eddie? Why did he let Hen bear that burden?
His stomach twists at the thought of a lonely Eddie finding out about Bobby...his heart aches. He was a coward.
Since Eddie returned from El Paso, it seems like things between the two of them are fine. Better than they were before, in some ways. In the ways that mean they act more normal... There are more... boundaries. It feels like they have outgrown the old relationship, and it has transformed into something a bit more… sterile?
Buck hates it.
Eddie doesn’t invite him over as much; he doesn’t initiate physical contact as he did before. Buck knows the signs of a loved one withdrawing from his life as well as he knows his first name. It’s a familiar ache, one that he should be used to by now.
It's different, though, when Eddie does it. It hurts more than anyone else giving up on him.
Buck is drawn from his thoughts by a sharp laugh from the loft in the firehouse. From his spot in the changing room, he can see that Hen had said something that made Eddie laugh, Eddie hitting her playfully with a tea towel.
When was the last time Eddie laughed at one of Buck’s jokes?
Buck’s phone starts ringing in his pocket. He sighs and checks the caller ID, staring in confusion at the unfamiliar number.
“Uh, hello?”
“Hello there, is this Evan Buckley?” A woman’s voice is heard through the phone.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Hope Williams, from Child Protective Services. Did you have a moment to schedule a meeting on behalf of Charlotte Davis?”
“I - I’m sorry, I think you must have called the wrong Evan Buckley. Who is Charlotte Davis?”
Buck pulls the phone away from his ear and double-checks the caller ID. This CPS worker must have gotten her wires crossed at some point; there is no way they meant to call him.
“Evan Buckley, you’re a firefighter, live in Los Angeles, correct?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then I am talking to the right person.” There's a pause on the other line, like she’s speechless as well. “So you’re saying that you have no idea why I would be giving you a phone call right now?”
Buck’s brows furrow. “Uh… no?”
“Okay, well. We normally like to have these conversations in person, so maybe we can schedule a time to meet. The sooner, the better.”
“Uh, sure. What is this about?”
He hears Hope sigh on the other end. “Mr. Buckley, I am calling Charlotte Davis’s next of kin. Her mother, Mia, passed away earlier in the week. You were named as her father on her birth certificate.”
What.
Buck feels dizzy. How could he have a daughter? Again, Buck maintains that there must be some mistake. How could he have a daughter that he didn’t know about? How old is she? Does she look like him?
“Oh.”
“I am sorry if this is news to you, Mr. Buckley. That said, we must move quickly in delicate situations like this. When is a good time to meet?”
Buck’s shift ends at 9 a.m., which is -luckily -in an hour. He does not know how he would survive an entire shift with this. He wants to tell Eddie, but decides not to burden the man with this news, especially since it’s most likely a mistake. Why get everyone so worked up over something he’s going to clear up in an hour?
He and Hope agree to meet at a coffee shop near the station once his shift is over, and he hangs up the phone.
For the rest of his shift, Buck tries his best to act like a normal human being despite the tremor in his hands and the pallid disposition on his face. He is wound so tightly, thoughts tucked so deeply in his head, that he completely misses the looks of concern that Eddie throws his way.
–
“Mr. Buckley?” Buck turns and is greeted by a blonde woman in a maroon pantsuit, reaching to shake his hand.
“Uh, hello. How did you know it was me?” he asks, disoriented by the conversation that hasn’t even begun.
Hope’s eyes fall to his navy LAFD uniform. Right.
In his frenzy to leave the firehouse, Buck hadn’t changed out of his uniform.
“Oh,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, “that makes sense.”
Buck opens the door for Hope, gesturing for her to lead the way. “I haven’t ordered anything yet. Can… uh… I grab you a coffee or anything?”
Fuck, he’s nervous. And double fuck, she can tell.
“No, thank you, Mr. Buckley. Go ahead and order, and I’ll find us a table in the corner,” she nods to the open tables in the corner of the coffee shop.
Buck makes quick work of ordering a black coffee and joins Hope at her table. He doesn’t think his stomach can handle any of the creamers or syrups that he usually enjoys.
“Okay, Mr. Buckley - ”
“Buck, uh, just call me Buck,” he interrupts. Fuck. He dramatically shuts his mouth, and Hope lets out a disarming chuckle.
“Buck, there is no reason to be nervous; nothing has to be decided today. I just wanted to have a conversation regarding Charlotte Davis.”
Buck nods.
“Earlier in the week, Charlotte’s mom, Mia Davis, passed away from a drug overdose. Charlotte was found at the scene and is currently in our custody. When we looked at Charlotte’s medical records, we found that she actually did have a father listed on her birth certificate.” She looks pointedly at Buck. "She's seven."
“Okay…” It feels like his brain is finally catching up to him, finally giving him the correct words to say. He can’t even remember Mia Davis… Fuck, he's going to hell. “Do you have a photo of Mia? To uh… job my memory?”
He’s definitely going to hell.
Hope pulls out a photo of Mia Davis, and it clicks. Yeah, Mia got involved in Buck’s life for a very brief time during his Buck 1.0 era.
He does the quick math in his head and determines that it is very likely that if Mia got pregnant right after her encounter with Buck 1.0, he could have a 7-year-old daughter right now.
Okaaayyyy... time to switch gears.
“Is she okay? Where is she?”
Hope puts her hands up in a placating gesture. “Take a deep breath, Buck. I am here to help you get this sorted.”
With the initial rebellion against the idea of his being a father gone, the details of Charlie’s mother’s death begin sinking in. He may have a daughter whom he didn’t know about, whose mom died… presumably in front of her… and his daughter is just living in what? The foster care system?
He feels uncomfortable; he feels like he is running too hot. He feels angry. Where is his daughter?
Potential daughter. Probable daughter.
“Charlotte is okay, physically. She is living in a foster home at the moment and is not at any risk of harm.”
Like hell she is. He remembers Christopher’s grief after his mother’s death, how all-consuming it was, even with Eddie’s steady presence. Even with Buck there to take him to the zoo and cheer him up when Eddie needed privacy.
This little girl -possibly his little girl - is just in a foster home, alone, grieving… without him. Without anybody.
“Charlotte prefers to go by Charlie. Which is fitting considering your affinity for nicknames,” Hope attempts to make a joke that is completely lost on Buck. Buck needs there to be no more jokes. He needs to figure out how to navigate this - how to fix it.
“Next order of business is the paternity test,” Hope pulls out a spit-collection kit and hands it over to him. By way of her instruction, Buck swabs the inside of his cheek and hands it back to her. Their conversation about logistics is wrapping up, and it seems Hope is gathering her things to leave. Buck feels panicky.
“I wish I could share more information, but I have to protect the child’s safety. If you are the father, I will be in contact for the next steps. That is, if you agree to be Charlie's legal guardian.”
Buck is stunned at the implication. Leaving this young girl to fend for herself for the rest of her life, meanwhile, he is neglecting his fatherly responsibilities.
“I, uh, I will bring her home.” Buck stammers. "I will definitely bring her home."
–
Buck spends the next 24 hours baking, cleaning, and working out.
He has since saved Hope’s contact in his phone, wanting to know exactly when she will call regarding the paternity test results. Hope said it should not take very long, two days maximum.
Buck stands in the kitchen in the firehouse, half-baking and half-staring lasers at a phone that will not ring. He checks his watch; it’s been 36 hours since he took that stupid paternity test. Every moment that passes reminds him that his (possible) daughter is alone, and frightened, and he’s here baking blueberry scones and -
“Woah, Buck, glaring at your phone isn’t gonna make whoever they are text you back quicker,” Hen ribs, sitting on the kitchen island’s stools. Buck had not noticed his team make their way up to the kitchen.
Buck looks at them in shock. “What?”
Chimney slaps his shoulder and reaches into the fridge behind him. “They’ve left you dazed and confused, my friend.”
Oh, they think Buck went on a date. Buck recovers from his shock with a half-hearted chuckle, completely missing the sound of his phone’s ringer going off.
Chim leans over. “Who’s Hope?”
Buck blushes, missing the way that Eddie freezes from across the kitchen.
“She’s nobody!” Buck is scrambling. “I am going to take this call downstairs.”
Buck runs off, flustered and avoiding everyone’s eyes. They all exchange glances behind his back, knowing that Hope certainly isn’t nobody.
–
Tucked safely in the vacated bunk room, a winded Buck answers the call. “Hope?”
“Hello, Buck! I hope you’re doing w -”
“Is she mine?” He cuts her off - on purpose this time.
He can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “Yes, Buck. She’s yours.”
Buck lets out a loud exhale and a shaky chuckle, stunned. Buck has longed for a place to belong for his entire life, and now he has a chance to make something real. For a while, he felt like he was a member of the Diaz household. Or maybe he was tricking himself into believing something that he wanted to be true.
It was never real; he was never Chris’s father, never Eddie’s… anything. He was Christopher’s ‘break glass in case of emergency’ parent.
Technically, he’s the second-choice parent again. But it doesn’t necessarily feel like that. He knows that Buck 1.0 likely didn’t seem like the best partner to raise a kid with, so he focuses on the future. All that mattered was that his daughter is fine, and that they begin to build a home together, forever.
He’s a dad.
Without thinking, Buck agrees to meet Hope as soon as possible to sign the forms and get the process started. He looks around at the bunkroom, seemingly remembering that he is currently still at work.
Buck dashes out of the bunk room and skids to a stop under the kitchen loft.
“Uh, Chim?” His voice is too high, too shrill. “Can I talk to you in your office?”
From where Buck is standing, he cannot see the incredulous looks on his teammates' faces. Buck has been acting strange all day, gets a phone call from a woman they've never heard of, and then needs to talk to Chimney in his office.
Eddie bristles, muttering, “Must be serious, then.”
Chimney gives him a weird look and heads down to meet Buck in his office. Buck is bouncing on the balls of his feet, clutching his phone with a vice-like grip.
“Everything alright, Buckaroo?” Chim prods, welcoming him into the office.
“I need to go home.”
Chimney looks at him curiously and asks soberly, “Is everything alright, Buck?”
Chimney would have known about any Buckley family emergency because Maddie would have told him. Maddie would have told him, right?
This is extra concerning, considering Buck never leaves early, never plays hooky. Ever.
“I know this all seems really weird, but I promise I have a good explanation. For professional reasons, I am going to call it a family emergency. But, please, Chim, I need to leave.”
Chimney sighs, his concern growing. “Uh… yeah, okay. I guess that’s fine. I will call the on-call replacement, but I hope your excuse is as good as you say it is.”
Buck grins, eyes full of trepidation. “It’s a good excuse.”