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The light is nearly blinding as Buck tries to open his eyes. He recoils, grimacing as he squeezes his eyes shut and presses against his bed. Actually, as more of Buck’s senses come online, he has a realization that it’s not his bed after all. Much less comfortable, first of all, and his fingers skim a thin and scratchy sheet, completely unlike his plush comforter at the share house. There’s an unfamiliar beeping that only reinforces he’s not at home.
“Hang on Buck, let me kill the lights.” Hen’s voice wafts over from some distance. Buck tries to respond but his voice won’t cooperate. He strains his ears, listening to the echoing footfalls. Where is he, and why is Hen here? Wherever here is. Is he at Hen’s? They’ve gotten closer over the past couple of months, but it’d be odd enough to sleep over, not to mention her apparently watching over him as he slept.
“Okay, try again.”
Buck cracks his eyes open slowly as Hen walks back towards his bed. As he takes in the sterile surroundings, it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s in the hospital. Were they on a call? Did something happen?
No, he was at dinner with Abby. That’s the last thing Buck can remember. But something happened? Where is Abby?
“Hey, I’m so glad to see those baby blues.” While Buck pondered, Hen had returned to his bedside and grasps his hand in both of hers.
Buck opens his mouth to try and talk again, but Hen cuts him off.
“Uh, don’t try and speak just yet, okay?”
Buck nods, anxiety rising as his heart lodges in his throat. He has a million questions and looks towards Hen in alarm. Hen, who has the same look on her face as when she’s about to give a patient bad news.
“Just nod yes or no for me, okay?”
Nod.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Buck doesn’t have a yes or no answer to the question, so he shrugs instead. Hen gives him a little smile; just a little upturn at the corner of her mouth.
“Fair enough. Do you remember you were going out to dinner with Abby?”
Buck nods yes.
“Do you remember choking on a piece of bread?”
He can feel the heat rise in his cheeks as the memory comes back. He’d been so nervous, a bundle of anxiety trying to impress his girlfriend, and it had all gone to hell. If he’d taken a smaller bite, or just waited a second to eat, or even just hadn’t rushed to swallow so he wouldn’t delay Abby’s toast, or made any number of different decisions in the seconds before disaster, he wouldn’t be here right now, but Buck has always had an almost magical ability to force the worst outcome out of any situation.
Buck refuses to meet Hen’s gaze any longer, tearing his eyes away from her and staring at the foot of the bed. He goes to retract his hand, but Hen holds on tighter.
“It happens, Buck. Do you remember anything after that?”
Perhaps it’s a good thing that he doesn’t. He shakes his head no.
“Okay. That’s okay. Let me give you a little bit of a recap.” Hen sighs, like she doesn’t actually want to. “They tried to give you the Heimlich, tried to dislodge the bread, but nothing worked. EMS was seven minutes out, and Abby was concerned about possible brain damage.”
Seven minutes would be a long time without oxygen for a brain to escape unscathed.
“So, she had 9-1-1 talk her through a field tracheotomy.”
Immediately, Buck’s free hand flies towards his throat. He’s only just grazed a patch of gauze before Hen catches his hand and pulls it away.
“Abby… Is a great dispatcher, but she doesn’t have any field experience. Getting instructions over the phone and using a steak knife isn’t really a recipe for a good outcome.” Buck finally looks back over at Hen, and even in the dim light, he can see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “The good news is that she was able to open an airway and keep the oxygen flowing to your brain…”
Hen trails off, and Buck gives her hand a little squeeze.
“…The bad news is the knife slipped, or she applied too much pressure, and the incision went much further than it should have. She made a mess of your throat. They’ve done some scans while you were out. It looks like your vocal function may be compromised.”
The anxiety Buck was feeling bottoms out. He’s not feeling much of anything, stunned as the implications storm his mind. If he can’t speak, there’s no way they’ll let him stay on as a firefighter. He hadn’t been kidding when he told Bobby that it was the only thing he did that mattered. If he doesn’t have that, he has nothing.
Nothing.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, yet, okay? They’ll need to run some more tests and do some vocal rehabilitation, but until things heal up a little more, they don’t even want you to try, okay?”
***
Abby doesn’t visit. Chimney tells Buck that she’s feeling guilty, and her mom has taken a turn for the worse. It’s probably better she doesn’t see him like this, because after a few days of rest, about a billion more scans, and a host of ENTs and speech therapists and other specialists, Buck has officially been declared voiceless forever more. As a substitute, he’s been given a notebook and a pen. It’s not the same, but at least it’s something.
And to follow that news up, Bobby comes trudging into his hospital room the next day looking almost as bad as the day that he relapsed. Bobby collapses in the chair, and then like it’s being dragged out of him, confesses that the meeting with the Union and HR went horribly.
“I’m sorry, kiddo. It wasn’t a work place injury, so they can’t medically retire you. You’re still probationary, so you don’t qualify for long term disability. And the ADA coordinator determined that there’s not reasonable accommodations that can be made to keep you in your current role.”
It’s a one-two-three gut punch. The first two, hurtful but not devastating. Buck doesn’t want to be handed a wad of cash and told to go away; he wants to be a firefighter. He deflates in bed, blinking back tears.
“Listen, I have another meeting with the union this afternoon. No one wants to leave you high and dry on this, okay?”
Buck grabs his notebook and hastily scrawls
SURE
In all caps. He even underlines it for dramatic effect.
“Hey,” Bobby protests, “you were there for me, and you were there for Hen and Chimney when we needed help. Even if you end up not coming back, we’re not walking away from you, okay?”
It’s an easy promise to make. A promise Buck has seen made and broken time and time again. There’s no doubt Bobby is sincere, but when they go back on shift, inevitably replace Buck? It’s out of sight, out of mind. The visits will stop, they can’t even make calls, but the texts will taper off, and Buck will be alone.
Again.
Buck’s been home for three days when Abby finally reaches out via text message. She claims it’s to keep them on equal footing, so Buck isn’t limited to scrawling on a notepad while Abby has full use of her voice.
It’s an excuse, and not even a very good one. Sitting alone in his bedroom, she breaks up with him and breaks his heart. Buck tries to protest; he doesn’t blame her, not really. She did the best she could. She probably saved his life, or at least from a TBI. His voice for his life seems like a fair trade, though, if he can’t be a firefighter, maybe it would’ve been a kinder fate to let him go.
But she didn’t know, she couldn’t know what the price would’ve been. Buck hates how it ended, but he doesn’t hold Abby responsible.
It doesn’t matter, though, because she holds herself responsible. Abby gives Buck a final goodbye via text before all of his replies start getting errors. She’s blocked him.
***
There’s a sharp rap on Buck’s bedroom door the next morning. He rolls over in bed. He’s really not in the mood. Over the course of a couple weeks, he’s lost his voice, his livelihood, his girlfriend. He has Bobby and Chimney and Hen, for now, but Buck can feel the clock ticking down until they all drift apart.
Besides, he hasn’t showered or changed his clothes since he’s come back, and he’s sure he reeks. The knocking goes ignored.
“Buckaroo, I know you’re in there. I have to extricate clients who’ve locked themselves in places multiple times a week, so I know you know I can get in if I have to.”
Carla? Patricia’s home aid? Buck’s only met her a couple times and they’re certainly not anywhere near close enough for her to just show up at his house. The absurdity of the situation has him getting out of bed and opening the door, looking down at her in bewilderment.
Carla does not look impressed.
“We have a meeting downtown, and then your first class, so lets get a move on.” Carla takes in his disheveled and rumpled appearance, nose curling as his reek hits her. “First, though, you need to shower.”
Buck stares at her flatly.
Her eyes narrow in challenge. “If you don’t think I have to bathe uncooperative clients all the time, you have another thing coming. Your choice.”
Well, Buck probably has a foot and quite a few pounds on her, but there’s no doubt in his mind that she could take him. In a battle of wills, there’s no doubt that Carla would win. He shrugs and moves past her to the bathroom. He’ll shower and allow himself to get dragged around, and then he can return to moping. It’s not like there’s anything else on his calendar for the moment.
When he returns, Carla’s picked up his bedroom and laid out fresh clothes. He pouts at her, embarrassed that she not only had to witness his misery but pitied him enough to clean up after him like he’s a toddler. When he’s dressed, she sits on the freshly made bed – seriously how did she even have time to change his sheets, Buck didn’t take that long of a shower – and pats the space next to her. Reluctantly, Buck trudges over and plops down.
“You’ve been dealt a bad hand, Buck,” she begins kindly, hand resting on his forearm. “But you know what they say when life gives you lemons?”
Buck’s in no mood for platitudes, so he just arches a brow at Carla.
“You squeeze the juice in life’s eyes and tell them to go fuck themselves. C’mon, we’ve got an appointment.”
Buck allows himself to be bundled in Carla’s far too small car, grabbing the notebook and pen, which he clutches while Carla winds through traffic. Carla talks about some of her clients – noticeably skipping Patricia – while Buck nods along. There’s no reason to bust out the notebook while Carla’s driving. Especially in LA. He tenses when he realizes where Carla’s driven to: central dispatch. He tugs on Carla’s sleeve as she puts her car into park, shaking his head frantically.
“It’s gonna be fine, Buckaroo. Let’s go.”
She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, opening her door before Buck can protest any more. The LAFD has already cut him loose, and while the arcane legal language made his head spin, he’s pretty sure their rationale is sound. Not that it makes the dejection sting any less. And he has no desire to see Abby. Not when he can’t make an impassioned plea for her to stay, for her not to abandon him like everyone else.
Regardless, Buck follows after Carla, and after being buzzed up, they’re walking past the monitors and hubbub of the dispatch floor. Buck’s heart arches. He should be on the other side of those headsets, sent out to fires and emergencies, guided by these folks to people in need of help. They’re shown to a small conference room, where an older woman with a pile of auburn hair and a severe looking man whose outfit screams lawyer are waiting for them.
“Sue Blevins,” the woman introduces herself with a warm smile and a handshake. Buck tentatively takes her hand, and opens his mouth to answer, to give his name, forgetting for a single moment that he’s been robbed of his voice. Mouth agape like a suffocating fish, he feels his cheeks flame in embarrassment as no sound escapes.
Sue’s smile doesn’t waver as she gestures to the chairs across from her.
“We have a proposition for you, Mr. Buckley.”
Buck breaks eye contact to flip open his notepad and jot down a correction.
Just Buck.
He slides the pad across the table. If anything, Sue’s smile only grows brighter as she scans the note and slides the pad back.
“Okay, a proposition for you, Buck. We understand that you won’t be cleared to return to a firefighter role, so we’d like to explore some alternatives with you.”
He’s well aware that people are paying more attention to his face – when they aren’t unabashedly staring at the jagged scar that streaks across his neck – considering he can’t speak. Buck tries and fails to keep his lip from curling in irritation. He really doesn’t need a reminder that he’s been cast aside. He stares Sue down, making no move to respond. Did Abby set them up for this? Clearly, he can’t be a dispatcher; talking is even more of the job than being a firefighter is.
“Yes, let’s explore these options.” answers Carla, when it becomes clear that Buck is not going to reply. “I guess my question is why?”
“Do you want the fluffy PR reason or the actual reason?” interjects the severe looking man, speaking for the first time.
Carla sizes him up. “Give us both.”
The man smiles for the first time.
“An external, independent investigation might determine that multiple dispatch employees acted outside of their scope of practice, leading to permanent and significant injury. An off-duty dispatcher identified herself as such and directed dispatchers in a manner that may be contrary to their training and role. On-duty dispatchers provided medical advice and instruction that may be beyond what would typically be authorized. This might have enabled an untrained individual to administer field aid above what they were trained and equipped to provide, to a deleterious outcome that could conceivably have been avoided.”
Buck’s head is spinning. He hates lawyer gobbledygook. Carla seems to be following along, as she pipes up in response.
“So, the city is concerned about liability?”
“There is always the possibility that should litigation ensue; a sympathetic jury would eventually lead to an adverse outcome for the city.”
Carla fully rolls her eyes and turns to Buck.
“He means they’d like to avoid ‘Hero firefighter mutilated by rogue dispatcher, more at 11’ blaring on television screens throughout LA if possible,” she translates.
Sue clears her throat.
“Regardless of… all of that,” she starts, and its clear she has as much patience for this as Buck does, “From conversations with Captain Nash and Dispatcher Clark, it’s obvious that you were a hell of a firefighter, and it would be a loss to the city to lose someone of your talents and skill. Plus, Captain Nash has made it pretty clear you’d like to keep working.”
Carla glances at the lawyer. “So, what, is this a we’ll give you a job if Buck agrees not to sue you all?”
“The city is amenable to a monetary settlement, if Mr. Buckley prefers, but as Mrs. Blevins noted, our understanding is that this would be a more palatable solution.”
Buck ignores them both and scrawls another note to Sue. The fact that Bobby is continuing to fight for him, even talking to Sue about possible opportunities, warms his heart and gives him a flicker of hope for the first time in weeks.
Doing what?
Buck wants to be in the engine, rescuing cats from trees or children from fires or tearing apart cars with the jaws of life. But he also needs a paycheck. It’ll grate, being so close to the action, a constant reminder of what he’s lost, an open wound that he’ll just keep poking and poking.
Well, at least that would be a classic Buck maneuver. Very on brand.
“We’re gonna figure out something good for you long term. But right now, we can slot you in as an LAFD liaison.”
As Sue explains the position, Buck can’t believe that anyone in their right mind would give him access to a Twitter account, but he eventually gives her a thumbs up and hopes that they’ll find something better eventually. Or he’ll just leave LA entirely. But for now, it’s money in his bank account while he licks his wounds. Buck lets Carla hash out the details with the lawyer before they have to leave.
***
The class Carla mentioned is an American Sign Language class. To Buck’s tearful surprise, Carla hasn’t just signed him up for the class, but Bobby, Hen, and Chim as well. It’s awkward and frustrating at first, and it’s not like he’ll ever be completely free of a notepad, but as he learns more and gets fluent, it’ll be a real game changer, especially if his friends know it too.
Things kind of fall into a tenuous groove after that. He goes to work, trying his best to avoid Abby until he learns that she’s resigned. Or technically, retirement. Buck tries not to think too deeply on that; did her attempt to save his life really cost Abby her job? The guilt threatens to consume him, so he does his best not to think about it at all. He throws himself into his ASL classes and supplements them by binging YouTube videos and browsing online ASL dictionaries. Work doesn’t end up being terrible either. Sometimes if there’s a major event, especially one that may need timely updates, Buck will get sent out to meet a battalion chief in the field.
Part of his role in the field is to document everything – not naturally his forte, but he can see the value in having decisions recorded as they happen, instead of folks trying to remember later for after action reports. It’s a little humiliating, standing around like a uniformed secretary while his brethren rush in where angel’s fear to tread. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a secretary, and there’s value in the work, but it wasn’t what Buck was born to do.
He does feel a little better during the times he’s able to point out something they’ve missed; or offer a suggestion about a different approach that they end up using. It settles him, lets him believe that yes, actually he can still be useful. It also helps that he’s not been abandoned by the 118. Even Hendricks has learned some basic ASL so he can understand some of what Buck is saying. Plus, leadership is thrilled they have a station they can tap in if there’s a patient who needs it.
It's not the life Buck necessarily wanted, but it’s livable. Survivable.
That is, until Eddie Diaz shows up.
***
There’s no way they could keep slotting in floaters to Buck’s spot forever. But Buck’s complacent, and there’ve been long term subs in the role for months, so Bobby telling him casually that they’re getting a permanent team member takes Buck by surprise.
It doesn’t help that Bobby talks up the new guy. Probably, he’s trying to reassure Buck that they’ll be in good hands, and that he doesn’t have to worry that the new guy is going to get them in trouble. But it backfires, and only serves to reinforce that Buck, actually, is replaceable. How long until it’s this Eddie dude getting invited out, sitting in Buck’s spot at the bar or diner and Buck’s left behind again?
Does he start avoiding the 118 so he doesn’t have to meet him?
Yes, but he’ll never admit it to Bobby or the others, although they all certainly know.
Except all thoughts of Eddie flies out of Buck’s head when his sister shows up after three years of silence. (Pun intended). He’s thrilled that Maddie is back, truly, but he needs to process it, talk it out with Bobby. Well, Bobby can talk, Buck can sign and write in his notepad. So, without a further thought, he drives over to the station, hoping that they won’t be out at a call.
It’s been a couple weeks since his last visit, not knowing exactly when the new guy is starting (does he tune out every conversation about him? Maybe.) Meyers and Perez both call out excited greetings to him as he enters the engine bay. Buck allows himself to be passed around for hugs and backslaps before darting up the steps towards the kitchen, which is where Bobby is most likely to be.
Since Buck can’t call out his presence any more, he’s taken to taking extra heavy steps on stairs, or knocking his hands against railings; really anything to make noise. He’d experimented with whistling or snapping his fingers, but Hen swiftly pointed out that many people may not interpret those in the manner in which they’re intended, and Buck abandons those ideas. He’s always been a shit whistler, anyways.
Today, the commotion from the bay is enough to alert everyone in the loft that Buck is here. Hen and Chimney meet him at the top of the stairs, exchanging his enthusiastic wave for hugs. As his eyes scan towards the kitchen, looking for Bobby, they arrest on a dark haired man sitting on one of the couches, watching the proceedings.
An unfamiliar, unfairly attractive man. Who must be Eddie Diaz, Buck’s replacement. No one had mentioned that he was hot in addition to eminently qualified. Buck would like to turn on his heels and leave, but Chimney, knowing Buck all too well, has already grasped Buck’s bicep with a vicelike grip and started steering him towards the couches where Eddie is standing up, looking over nervously.
Why the hell should this guy be nervous?
“Eddie, this is Buck. Buck, this is Eddie,” Hen’s trying too hard to sound casual.
Buck gives Eddie a timid wave, feeling somewhat silly about the gesture. He extends his hand which Eddie takes after a not so surreptitious wipe of his palm on his uniform pants.
“Oh, Hi Buck, it’s nice to meet you.”
Buck can’t really say the same. Both because it’s not a sentiment he shares, and because he can’t say anything. He twists his lips into his best approximation of a smile and gives Eddie a nod.
Eddie looks at Buck, eyes furrowing as if he’s waiting for the standard, verbal response. Buck can only stare dumbly back at the man, their hands still clasped together, mostly forgotten.
The silence gets heavier and heavier, pressing down against Buck’s shoulders. Eddie doesn’t seem mad or upset; more confused at the silent treatment he’s getting, head tilting curiously at Buck.
Why aren’t Hen or Chim or Bobby saying anything? Why won’t Eddie let his hand go (why won’t he let Eddie’s hand go?) so Buck can write something down or sign at him? Eddie probably won’t understand what he’s saying specifically, but it should be enough for him to get the clue that Buck doesn’t talk.
Finally, Eddie breaks in, “Cat got your tongue?”
The response is immediate. There’s a clatter of cutlery from the kitchen, as Bobby presumably drops whatever he was holding. Buck’s mouth drops open as he finally lets go of Eddie’s hand. Both Hen and Chimney make surprised noises, as they begin to talk over each other.
“Uh, Eddie, man,” Chimney finally stumbles out. “Buck doesn’t talk. Can’t talk.”
Eddie’s complexion goes pale – paler than even Buck – as his eyes finally catch Buck’s throat scar. The first time Buck had seen it in the hospital, when they were changing the dressing, he’d almost cried. Red and angry, it streaked diagonally, evidence of Abby’s unsure hand. Even months and tubes of Mederma later, it was exceedingly noticeable, a stark contrast slashed across his neck. If Buck lived somewhere cold, he might be able to hide it with a turtleneck sweater or by wearing scarfs consistently – it travelled too high to be hidden just by a collared shirt, or Buck would’ve invested in polos by now. But he lived in LA, and wearing a scarf would be even more noticeable than the scar is.
The stares are something Buck is getting used to. It used to be people would stare because they thought he was attractive. Now? Not so much. And the questions? People are brazen. Who stops a stranger on the street and asks what happened? Children are an exception, though. It would make Buck laugh – if he could, that is – at the parents’ horrified expressions and stammered apologies as their cherubic charges ask Buck how he got his scar.
He's got a dog-eared page in his note pad he flips to, a brief story pre-written about how he was rescuing a puppy from pirates when a pirate got mad and tried to attack him.
It’s a much cooler story than choking on bread, at least. But Buck doesn’t pass Eddie a story as the new guy continues to stare at Buck in shock. Instead, he turns to Hen and signs is this guy for real? Buck goes to take a step back, to turn away and leave; he can talk to Bobby later. Besides, this is proof they didn’t tell Eddie or warn him. Does Buck not come up in conversation at all? Are they ashamed? Why would he not even be worth a mention?
Actually, Buck is starting to feel bad for the guy, getting blindsided like that. Regardless, Buck doesn’t need to stick around for the aftermath. He’s barely got a foot lifted to turn and walk away when there’s a heavy hand clasping his shoulder. Bobby must’ve walked over during the impromptu staring contest and is now a reassuring presence at his back.
“Buck, glad to see you. I made mac and cheese for lunch. Chimney, set another place at the table?”
Buck can’t come up with an excuse fast enough, plus it’s mac and cheese, so he allows Bobby to steer him to the table. Lunch is somewhat stilted and awkward. Or it is until Buck unleashes his new mute joke.
Bobby can’t yell at me for talking with my mouth full anymore, cuz now I talk with my hands.
Chimney snorts so hard he gets noodles up his nose, and when Hen translates for Eddie, the man chokes on his water and the tension finally breaks. Buck finally fills them in on the reason for his visit – the return of his sister, and his hopes and concerns about her appearance and impending departure.
When lunch wraps up, Bobby assigns Eddie to dish duty and offers to walk Buck out to his jeep.
“Listen, Buck,” Bobby starts when they walk out of the open doors into the early afternoon sunshine. “I was going to pull aside Eddie later today and fill him in on everything. I hope you can forgive him, I think he was just caught off guard.”
Right, because Buck is someone who Bobby has to warn others about. He gives Bobby a sour look, which Bobby responds to with a patented Dad frown.
“I was very up front with him before he took the position, that he was replacing someone who had been injured off duty and that people were still close with,” Bobby gives a rueful smile. “I think he’s been felling a little intimidated about having big shoes to fill. I wanted to give him a chance to settle in more. If I had known you were coming, I would have briefed him first.”
Buck gives Bobby an apologetic pout.
“You never have to apologize for visiting us, Buck. Especially when your long lost sister shows up out of the blue. I wouldn’t have called ahead either.”
Concerns about being hidden somewhat assuaged, Buck gives Bobby a hug before driving home. Buck spends most of the evening distracted. He hadn’t thought about how it must feel for Eddie. Stepping into a team that was gelling before it was rent apart. Having the person you’re replacing still around, haunting their old spot. It was different for Buck; the guy he replaced transferred so he could get back to flying. Much different circumstances and Buck had never felt unwanted. Does Eddie second-guess himself, wondering if everyone would rather Buck be there? That he’s their second choice? That’s how Buck would feel, at least.
***
It's still on Buck’s mind a week later. Convincing Maddie to stay and getting her set up with a job at dispatch had taken up most of his mental energy over the past few days. Buck is ecstatic that she’s sticking around for a while, and they’re going to try and line up shifts as much as possible so they can carpool. But now, as he’s waiting for something to happen so he can let the twitter verse know, his thoughts stray back towards Eddie. Should he reach out and make sure Eddie knows there’s no ill will? Should Buck make sure everyone is welcoming?
The reverie is interrupted by a knock on the door. As if summoned by Buck’s thoughts, Eddie Diaz stands in the doorway of Buck’s office. Buck gives him a little wave and a smile, trying to mask his confusion. He’s not unhappy that Eddie is here, but Buck doesn’t have the faintest idea of what he’s doing here.
“Uh, hey Buck,” Eddie starts off, casting his eyes around the room. Eddie pauses, and then clumsily signs I’m really sorry about the other day. About the comment and the staring.
I forgive you, Buck signs in reply. Eddie gives him a nervous smile.
“Okay, great. I uh, kind of maxed out on my ASL, but Hen helped me sign up for a class.”
Why?
Eddie looks for a moment, as if flipping through a rolodex of the signs he learned, trying to place the movement he just saw. Buck makes an aborted move towards his ever present notepad and pen when Eddie replies.
“Why?” Eddie confirms, waiting for Buck to nod in the affirmative. “I uh, want to be able to understand you, and not rely on the others to translate?”
Buck beams from ear to ear. He picks up his phone, then gestures for Eddie to pass his over. The other man looks somewhat confused but obliges. Buck punches his number into Eddie’s contacts, sends himself a text. He passes Eddie his phone before texting him.
While you’re learning. Or we can talk without you having to drive all the way to dispatch.
Eddie gives him a pleased smile. “Sounds like a plan, Buck.”
***
Buck would claim that they don’t start texting all the time, except it would be a blatant lie. Perhaps it’s because there’s less pressure than interacting face to face, where you can take your time to think through a response – not that Buck usually does, mind you – but pretty soon he and Eddie are texting all the time. It starts off complaining about calls and twitter and chatting about the other members of the 118 but soon morphs to a little bit of everything.
Eddie is sassy, with a dry sense of humor that amuses Buck to no end. Though all of that changes when Eddie starts talking about his son, Christopher. (The first time Chris comes up in conversation, Eddie apologizing because he needs to pick Chris up and won’t be able to respond for a while, Buck spams their text thread, demanding more information about Eddie’s son). It’s a side of Eddie Buck hasn’t seen yet, and it fills him with warmth.
Buck’s sitting at his desk, bored. Eddie is on shift and hasn’t responded in a while. They’re probably out on a call; Buck could wander over to the dispatch floor and check, but he’s not sure if that would cross a line or come off as creepy. He’s about to log off and go grab dinner when he gets a ping he’s needed in the field. Apparently, there’s a live bomb in an ambulance, and they want him on site to do live updates in case they need to start closing roads or evacuating neighborhoods.
Of course it’s the 118.
When Buck walks up to the scene, after parking far enough away he thinks his jeep will survive an explosion, Eddie is in the middle of a parking lot arguing with the bomb squad that they don’t have time to wait for army experts. It’s already been long enough for Buck to get there from dispatch, after all, and the person is running out of time. Eddie offers to go in, but there’s a moment of hesitation from the rest of the team when the bomb squad guy says someone needs to go in with him.
Buck grabs the bomb vest and starts putting it on, much to Bobby’s protest.
I don’t need to speak to hold a box, Bobby. Buck signs irritably, before following Eddie into the back of the ambulance, not waiting for a reply. It’s a tense couple of minutes as they get the grenade out of the patient and then the patient out of the ambulance.
Once they’re outside, Eddie claps a hand to Buck’s shoulder. Everything else falls away, fades into the background. There’s just Eddie, grinning at him and squeezing his shoulder.
“You’re a badass under pressure, brother. I wish you could have my back every day.”
I will, Buck signs in response. Any way I can.
“Yeah?” Eddie looks delighted.
Bobby looks considerably less delighted as he launches into a lecture. Except, it’s kind of nice: it feels like old times. Sue is also less than delighted when Buck gets pulled into her office the next day. If Buck thought Bobby’s disappointed dad act was bad, well, he has nothing on Sue Blevins. It’s decidedly not fair that they get to team up against Buck.
***
The grenade incident only solidifies his burgeoning friendship with Eddie, and if Buck didn’t know any better, he’d think he’s starting to develop a crush.
(Buck does know better, he’s definitely developing a crush. But Eddie has never given any indication that he’s anything less than straight and even has an estranged wife to prove it. That was an awkward conversation when it finally came up.).
Buck hasn’t been banned from leaving dispatch on shift, but Sue makes it clear that he can’t repeat his little stunt going forward. Which is probably the only reason why, when he gets dispatched to a semi-collapsed hotel after a 7.1 earthquake, he doesn’t immediately run in after all the other firefighters. Though now that Buck has had his first taste of the thrill of the rescue, the adrenaline coursing through his veins for the first time in months, he craves to feel that rush again.
But Buck behaves while the 118 deploys inside, tweeting updates about collapsed highways and passing on hotel updates, trying to be helpful to Battalion Chief Williams without getting too underfoot. And it all probably would be fine, except Hen goes missing and an evacuation order is given.
Bobby and Chimney ignore it, and it will be a cold day in hell before Buck follows directions when Bobby fucking Nash does not. When Chief Williams balks at sending in a crew to help, Buck stalks away and starts grabbing equipment off a nearby engine. Sue can fire him; he’s not sitting by when Hen needs their help.
“Liaison Buckley,” Chief Williams calls out, emphasis on his new title. “You can’t go in there.”
Just try to stop me.
“Chief Williams,” Eddie interjects, joining Buck at the engine. “Respectfully, we don’t leave anyone behind. That’s our family in there, regardless of what uniform we wear or title we carry.”
Chief Williams must see something on their faces, because her expression softens. “Goddammit, you two. All right, but I’m not running interference for you with Sue, Buckley.”
Yeah, Buck is wondering if getting crushed by a hotel might be a better outcome than the lecture he’s sure he’ll receive if they survive. They round up a team, volunteer only, and Buck might get a little misty eyed when every hand rises.
They get Hen out, mostly fine if a little dusty, carrying a dog. Buck’s sitting on the bumper of an engine, drinking a bottle of water when Eddie paces into view, talking on the phone.
“No, I appreciate it, really. I’m going to try and get there as soon as I can but I’m really not sure… Yeah, we got stuck at the hotel downtown… Thank you. I’m so sorry... okay, be there when I can.”
Eddie hangs up, looking stressed. Buck arches an eyebrow.
“Chris – my son – is still at school. I know the relief crews are here, but who knows when we’ll be able to leave. Even then, we’ll have to drive all the way to the station and then all the way to the school. It could still be hours.”
I can take you. Let me just check with Miranda.
“Really? Let me ask Bobby.”
They get clearance to leave directly from the scene, and head over to Chris’ school. Buck thinks his heart might burst as he watches Eddie envelop Chris in a hug. The familial joy is almost overwhelming, and he can’t help the smile on his face. Eddie carries Chris out to the car and buckles him in.
“Chris, this is my friend Buck, that I was telling you about.”
Buck gives Chris a smile and a wave while Chris chirps “Hi, Buck!”
“Oh, Christopher. Buck doesn’t talk, okay? He can hear you when you speak, but he uses sign language or written notes when he needs to say something, okay? And he’ll be driving, so his hands will be busy.”
The fact that Eddie has apparently told Chris about him, but the fact that Buck is mute is apparently so trivial it hasn’t come up settles something in Buck. Like it’s just a piece of who he is, and it’s not so critical to his identity that it must be the first thing about him that someone new needs to learn.
Chris takes the news in stride.
“That’s okay, Buck,” he answers blithely, unperturbed by the news at all. “My body doesn’t always work the way it does for other people either, so I get it.”
Buck gives him a thumbs up and spares a glance in the rearview mirror.
“Plus, my dad says I can talk enough for two people, so I can help out.”
Buck doesn’t tear up at the easy acceptance, he doesn’t. (He does, he totally does.). He flashes Chris a grateful smile as the young boy launches into a discussion about whether dogs know if they’re dogs or not.
***
Watching Chris and Eddie interact is the final nail in the ‘Buck has a giant crush on Eddie coffin’. How could he not fall in love with someone who loves his kid that much? Buck’s basically floating on air as he walks into dispatch for his next shift, until he remembers that there’s a looming confrontation with Sue. She won’t be happy with him.
“I’m not happy with you, Buck,” Sue starts off a short time later, striding into Buck’s office and closing the door, confirming Buck’s suspicions. “Except, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”
Buck, very carefully, keeps himself from breaking into a smile. Gloating when he’s about to get away with something is a surefire way muck it up for himself.
“Just, don’t make it a habit, okay?” Sue deflates, sounding defeated. “Or you’re going to get locked in this office and I won’t be able to handle the moping.”
Buck nods seriously, although they both know that given the opportunity, he most certainly will do it again. Then Buck goes back to floating. Or well, bouncing between floating and spiraling, because again, Eddie’s never given any indication that he is interested in guys. He’s so thoroughly distracted he almost misses the incoming facetime call.
Buck scrambles to pick it up; Eddie’s on shift so it must be something urgent if he’s calling and not texting.
“Buck, hey man!” Eddie sounds stressed, and from the shifting background, he’s pacing. He hasn’t known Eddie all that long, but Buck knows it isn’t good.
Buck can’t tell where Eddie is calling from. It doesn’t look like the station. He gives a little wave in response.
“Listen, my Abuela was watching Chris, but she’s in the hospital –” Buck starts signing rapidly, asking what happened, but Eddie continues on, “– she fell and broke her hip. She’ll be okay, but I have to head back to the station and my aunt has to go back to work. Is there any way you could leave early and watch him?”
Buck signs an enthusiastic yes, and it’s almost too easy when he asks Sue. She sends him on his way, and he skips the elevators, flying down the staircase and out to the parking deck.
Buck picks up the boys from the hospital – Eddie had the engine drop him off there because they were apparently on a call when Eddie got the news. Buck brings them both to the station; Eddie has to return to work and Chris has earned a distraction from the day’s events. Besides, if they get a call, it’s not like Buck would go with them. They hang out for a while, showing Chris the ropes. Somewhat literally. They tour the station and let him play video games and help him slide down the pole. They’re stuffing Chris full of grilled cheese when the alarm goes off. It might be the first time Buck’s heard the station bell since his throat was slit, and the echo of the bell reverberates throughout Buck, filling him with sadness.
Not wanting to haunt his old firehouse any longer, he drives Chris back to Eddie’s house. Buck’s a little nervous: he’s hung out with the kid a few times, but always with Eddie. He’s never been totally responsible for a child before, and he’s kind of scared about fucking it up. Except Chris is the world’s best kid, and they spend an afternoon playing with Legos and watching Disney movies before Eddie gets off shift.
Eddie basically collapses in Buck’s arms as soon as he’s through the door, squeezing him tightly as he thanks Buck for watching Chris.
“Seriously, Buck, I don’t know what I would’ve done. You’re a life saver.”
Buck waves off the compliment, hoping that Eddie doesn’t notice the blushing. They tag team Chris’ bedtime routine, Eddie reading a bedtime story while Buck signs what Eddie is saying, and Chris’ bedroom is filled with his sleepy giggles. After he’s out, Buck collapses onto the couch. Eddie joins him a few minutes later, holding two beers. He crashes next to Buck with a sigh. There’s alarmingly little personal space, thighs pressing together, and Buck does his best to ignore the line of heat until Eddie holds out one of the beers.
Buck takes it, the bottle slippery in his hand from the condensation. He pops the cap, taking a swig of the hoppy concoction.
Ugh. Eddie has terrible taste in beer.
“I got an earful from my Tia,” Eddie confesses, pausing long enough to take a sip of his own. “My Abuela isn’t really capable of watching Chris that often. I keep trying to find childcare, and there are all these programs to help, but the paperwork is even worse than the VA.”
Buck lets Eddie vent about bureaucracy as a plan begins to form.
***
It’s perfect. Buck has finally moved out of the share house – he’d outgrown it, truly, and he’s been sleeping on one of the couches for the past couple of months while Maddie stayed in his bedroom. But now they’d found a place, together, because Buck still isn’t convinced she’s sticking around and doesn’t want her out of his sight. Plus, he’s worried about Doug showing up, and wants to be there in case anything happens. Not that he’s voiced the last part to Maddie. So, it’s only too easy to invite Eddie to his new place under the auspices of helping him unpack and assemble furniture.
Which isn’t a lie. It’s just not the whole truth. They’ve mostly put together the TV stand when there’s a knocking on the door. Buck gives Eddie a sly grin.
There’s someone I want you to meet.
“Buck, seriously, are you trying to set me up?” Eddie hisses, brandishing the screwdriver he’s holding dangerously, like he’s willing to stab Buck to get out of whatever this is.
You’ll see! Buck signs merrily, giving Eddie a goofy smile as he stands.
Eddie grumbles and stands, scowling, as Buck walks to the door and lets Carla in.
“Buckaroo! It’s good to see you! And look at this place. You’re growing up.”
Carla hugs him and gives him a pinch on the cheek for good measure. Buck melts into the hold. He seriously doesn’t know where he’d be without Carla. Probably still in the share house, unwashed and destitute. Eventually, Carla releases him and turns to face Eddie.
“You must be Eddie. I’m Carla. Buck told me you’re having some issues with red tape?”
“Uh, yes – uh. Childcare for my kid,” Eddie stammers out, thrown for a loop as Carla walks over to him. “I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“Well, good thing I’m red tape’s worst nightmare. Let’s see what you’re working with, besides that perfect bone structure.”
Carla walks further into the apartment, as Eddie, stunned speechless, is left to follow in her wake. Buck continues to set up the TV stand to give them some privacy. He’ll save actually setting the TV up for when Chimney comes by later; Buck is useless when it comes to all the wires.
The meeting must go well, because Carla departs with a thick file and a promise to give call Eddie later with some updates. Eddie, who looks completely bowled over, staring at the door where Carla had just left.
Carla’s pretty great, huh? Buck signs, unable to keep a smile from his face.
“Yeah. She’s gonna see if she can juggle her clients around and maybe be Chris’ aide,” Eddie answers, sounding somewhat distracted. Buck pulls his gaze away from the door and towards Eddie.
He’s staring at Buck, with an inscrutable look on his face. There are butterflies in Buck’s stomach as nerves overtake him. Did he overstep? Did he insult Eddie’s parenting ability? He just wanted to help, but he could see where Eddie might feel insulted.
“I just, I don’t know how I can ever thank you, Buck.” Eddie closes the distance between them, his hazel eyes locked onto Buck’s. “Seriously. You just stepped right in with me, didn’t ask for anything in return. Just helped because you can?”
Buck, feeling shy, shrugs and kind of tilts his head. He’s not used to being praised like that, and the butterflies in his stomach flutter even harder.
“Seriously, how are you real?” Eddie breathes out the question, and before Buck can even blink, Eddie’s lips are crashing into his own. Buck freezes for a moment before returning the kiss eagerly, hands flying to Eddie’s waist to pull him in even closer. The butterflies explode.
The kiss doesn’t last that long before Eddie pulls back, a wild look in his eyes, pupils blown.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I just – I don’t even know if you feel the same way,” Eddie pants, looking like he’s about to bolt out the door.
Buck doesn’t need to be able to speak to answer that question. He tugs Eddie back in and kisses him fiercely.