Chapter Text
Can we even call ourselves a family anymore?
It’s the same thought that runs through Evan “Buck” Buckley’s head every morning; that has run through his head nonstop for the past 34 days.
Maybe it had been wishful thinking, believing that when he got back to work, when he got back to the 118, that everything would be good again. That everything would be okay again.
Maybe it was wishful thinking to believe that the people he had always supported, who he had always stood by, would have his back just the same.
“Who’s protecting you?”
That’s what Mackey had asked him, all those weeks – nearly two months – ago, and at the time Buck had said his team was; that Bobby was.
Now, he was pretty sure they were only concerned with protecting themselves.
“They’re my family.”
But… were they?
Once again he recalls the handful of times he’d woken up in the hospital, and not once had the team been there. Sure, they’d visited after, maybe once or twice, but they hadn’t been there initially, and what did that say about it all, really?
What did that say for how much they cared for him?
He knows he was a punk ass kid when he first came to the 118, knows he pushed Cap’s buttons one too many times. He could blame it all on the reason he’d left Chicago, but he knows it’s not really true. He knows it all came from his desperate desire to be loved and remembered for who he was, not who his family was. It came from a desire to be seen.
Now, he was nothing more than a ghost anyway.
“You’re not ready.”
“My house, my rules.”
Nash says that he was trying to protect him; that he was concerned for his wellbeing. Buck knows by now it’s all a bunch of lies and garbage.
If Nash had wanted to care for him, he would have told him the truth in the beginning, instead of going behind his back. If he actually cared, he wouldn’t be freezing Buck out now he’d won and was back; wouldn’t be letting everyone else push him around and whisper how much of a traitor to the department he was. If Nash cared, they wouldn’t be in this whole mess in the first place.
No. Nash didn’t care about anything but himself.
Buck knew that now.
Besides, for all their treating him like he was made of porcelain, and saying that they cared, they were sure quick enough to dismiss his feelings entirely, weren’t they?
“Push forward and move on.”
“You’re exhausting!”
“Suck it up, Buckley.”
Sometimes, Buck felt like he couldn’t win.
Sometimes, Buck wished he’d never left Chicago.
Regardless, Buck gets up each morning anyway.
After all, it’s not like he has anywhere better to go.
Witness report of abuse of power.
Witness report of bullying towards a colleague.
Civilian report of capable firefighter being side-lined.
Civilian complaint of witnessed mistreatment.
Chief Vincent Alvarez sighs heavily and scrubs a hand over his face. Stark lines around his eyes betray his age, cerulean gaze dark with stress and fatigue.
The 118 was a good house, and he’d let many misdemeanours slide because Nash vouched for his team. He’d let ‘back to work’ protocol be waived for Howard Han, twice, had let Diaz off with a warning for god damn street fighting. He’d vouched for them himself once or twice, because he knew they were good at their jobs and he knew Nash had a solid head on his shoulders.
But now…
Buckley was one of the best LAFD had to offer. He’d come from CFD with an exemplary record – a decorated Lieutenant who’d set records on his Squad certification – and had continued to break records and defy odds here in the LAFD. When Buckley had recertified, Alvarez had been more than glad to sign off on his paperwork to return.
When Nash had expressed concern over the medication Buckley was taking, Alvarez had let the Captain have the final say.
Then it turned out that Nash had lied to Buckley’s face, and the department and city had been rewarded with a – on legitimate grounds – lawsuit in return.
Now Buckley was back, but it seemed that Captain Nash was still determined to let his personal feelings cloud his judgement, and for the first time, Alvarez was not going to sit back and let that happen.
So he makes a call.
It’s a few days later when Alvarez steps foot inside the 118, and he can see with his own eyes what havoc has been wrought on the once happy, vibrant house.
The air is silent; devoid of laughter or mirth. Firefighters mill around, completing jobs and checking equipment, but no-one smiles, no-one jokes around. Immediately, it’s the sign of a house in trouble.
Alvarez can feel the tension seeping off everyone as he moves further inside, but its only when he begins to ascend to the balcony that he sees first-hand the reason for it all.
Even though he knew, seeing it, hearing it, is that much harder.
“I thought I told you to clean to truck.” Nash’s voice is hard and cold as it floats out of the office, door mostly closed.
“I was just going to – ”
“That’s not good enough, Buckley.” Nash responds, cutting the younger firefighter off. “You wanted to come back. I told you, my house, my rules. I gave you a job to do.”
“I was just – ”
“I don’t care.”
Alvarez feels his blood pressure boiling, hands clenching to the point where his nails threaten to split his skin. Shaking his head in disgust, he bustles into the office, face red with fury.
“Chief Alvarez!” Nash is quick to stand, façade pulling up a terse smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Alvarez takes a look at Buckley first, and he feels sick at what he sees. The young man he’d once thought would be set to take over Captain one day is pale, thin and exhausted. Bruises decorate the sallow skin beneath his eyes. Gone is the joyful smile and contagious cheeky laughter. In its place is a man who has been thoroughly broken by mistreatment and hatred from those he’d thought to be family.
Alvarez feels sick that he didn’t notice it all sooner, yet thankful he made the call when he did.
Turning to Nash, Alvarez lets his anger betray his words before he speaks them. “Captain Nash, I am severely disappointed and honestly disgusted by the way I’ve just heard you treat a subordinate under your command.”
“Chief, I…” Buck starts to defend the Captain, and that just makes Alvarez sad; more so when Buck’s watch starts beeping angrily at him.
Alvarez lowers a hand to Buck’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “I believe you were about to tell your Captain that you needed to pause chores in order to take your meds. Unlike Nash here, I actually read your medical evals.”
Nash has the decency to look moderately ashamed, at least, but it does nothing to quell Alvarez’ anger at the man.
“Go on son.” He says to Buck, and then he’s back to glaring at Nash with the fury of a thousand suns. “As for you, bring your whole house downstairs. Now.”
Perhaps it’s the righteous anger that Nash has never heard from him before, but the other man double times it out of the office to call the house down into the truck bay. Alvarez squeezes Buck’s shoulder one more time, before moving out downstairs. He’s glad to see Buck looking a fraction less pale when he joins them a minute later.
“I’m not going to speculate the who’s and why’s.” Alvarez starts. “But judging by the anonymous complaints, and the number of them, that have crossed my desk this week in regards to this house, I know that some of you have witnessed appalling behaviour over the past month. Behaviour that I have just witnessed myself.” He shakes his head, walking down the line of officers. “It is never, NEVER, acceptable to bully, harass, or emotionally abuse another member of your house, regardless of the situation and what you may believe.”
He pauses in front of Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Eddie, watching each of them closely. “Furthermore, if the department signs off on a team member’s return, it is not up to your personal opinion or unwarranted vendetta to oppose that decision.” He turns away in disgust. “I should fire every one of you and clean out this god damn house.”
Despite the power he holds and the clear fury they’re witnessing, it doesn’t stop a select few from sounding concerns and dismay at that.
“Sir, we – ”
“He – ”
“Sued us.”
“Quiet!” Alvarez yells, spinning back to the four in question that he’s especially disgusted with. “From those split second comments I can understand that you know exactly what I’m referring to and are not denying your actions. You should all be ashamed.”
He turns his eyes to Buckley, who’s suddenly looking paler than he had in Nash’s office, shaking and unsteady. The officer next to him has his hand on Buck’s shoulder, a soft but friendly squeeze to reassure him that he’s not alone. Alvarez feels thankful that at least a few people in the house know right from wrong.
“I’m going to set the record straight, and I am not going to repeat myself. Clear?” He eyes them all, but his gaze sticks on Nash. “Evan Buckley was cleared for duty by the entirety of the LAFD medical board, HR, and myself, regardless of his medication. We were aware of the risks, and Evan promised to mitigate most risk to himself by only attending low to mid priority calls and avoiding dangerous rescues where possible. Captain Nash disagreed, and I allowed him to make the final call. However, Captain Nash did not speak with Buckley about this, and told him that it was the LAFD that wouldn’t let him back. That is both an abuse of power and trust, something an LAFD Captain vows never to do. When Evan found out, he was well within his legal rights to sue, and I’ll tell you something else.” He pauses now, eyes boring into Nash’s. “He won. He turned down a thirteen million dollar settlement to return to this house and what is he met with? Disdain and hatred from those he once called family. That boy has given everything for the LAFD and what has it given him in return?”
He lets the question hang; lets them think on it. Breaking his gaze from Nash, he turns back to address the entire house.
“But I have a better plan for the 118 than simply cleaning house, because that is going to change nothing when it comes to how you treat others.” He shakes his head, instead pointing outside. “Within the hour, some of Chicago’s finest are going to step through those doors. When they do, this house is under the command of Chief Wallace Boden. We will be updating our command structure and operations to reflect those of the CFD. This house will be receiving a Squad unit in addition to Truck, Ladder and Ambo. You will be shadowing the CFD members, to observe how they work as a unit, as a team, and as a family. I hope to god you learn something.”
He shakes his head, turning his back on them all. “After two weeks, if Chief Boden finds you unfit for duty, you WILL NOT have a job to return to.” Then he’s gone, and he hopes to god he’s made the right decision.
Buck can’t stop shaking.
As soon as Chief Alvarez had begun dressing down the 118, his old team in particular, he’d felt his heart start to pound hard against his rib cage. He’d felt immediately dizzy, swaying on his feet, and it was only through the kindness of Johnson – one of the few members of the 118 to still have his back – that he didn’t fall over right there.
Then Alvarez said that Boden was coming, and Buck felt all the air leave his lungs.
Chief Wallace Boden had been the first person to give Buck a shot at being a firefighter. He’d been the finest father figure that Buck had been blessed to have in his life. He’d been everything to both Buck and Kelly.
Then Benny died, and Kelly fell apart, and Buck was left in the wake of their devastation. He’d spiralled and fallen hard, to the point where he’d felt ashamed to call himself a member of CFD, and though 51 had done everything they could to prove he still belonged – that they still loved him – Buck had ran away.
He’d done everything from then to forget his past, forget who he’d been, and the family he’d let down. He’d tried to be anything other than Benny Severide’s adopted son – Kelly Severide’s brother.
He’d tried to just be Buck, because ‘just Buck’ couldn’t let anyone down.
Then he’d saved a man from a bar fire, had been seen by the then Chief of the LAFD, and been offered a job he couldn’t refuse. While he’d asked them not to mention his CFD past – even if that had confused the then Chief because of his exemplary record – he hadn’t been able to deny the rush he’d felt in getting to be a firefighter again. After all, it’s what he’d been born to do.
At least in LA, he wasn’t anyone they knew or owed anything to. In LA, there was no-one he could let down except for himself. In LA, he could make sure people loved him for him.
So maybe he’d acted out a bit at first – craving the love and attention he’d so sorely missed – but then the 118 had wormed their way into his heart in a way he’d never expected. They’d become the family he’d left behind. Suddenly, he didn’t want to let them down. Suddenly, he felt loved and accepted.
Suddenly, he was okay again.
Until now.
Now his two worlds were colliding, and Buck didn’t know what sort of carnage was going to be left behind, because if Boden was coming, then that meant Kelly was too; and that left too many questions in Buck’s mind.
Would his brother forgive him?
Would he be there for Buck in the way he’d craved for the past few months; his finger hovering over the call button so many times?
Would the rest of 51 have his back, like they used to?
Or would they side with the 118, despite Alvarez’s words? Would he feel even more isolated than he already did?
He misses the look Alvarez gives him, or that the other man has even left. His hand is too busy gripping his chest, his lungs struggling to breathe. Johnson’s eyes are watching him, concerned, hand still tight on Buck’s shoulder, and then he’s being pulled away, and Eddie’s face is filling Buck’s vision instead.
“What the hell do you think this is?” Eddie growls, pushing Buck’s chest. “Some sort of game?”
Buck stumbles, hitting the truck bay wall and sliding to the floor. He can’t think, can’t speak. If he’s honest, he can barely hear Eddie through the high pitched whine filling his head.
“Well?” Eddie’s fist is curled into Buck’s shirt, pinning him against the concrete, and then a voice – angry, pissed, protective – calls out from behind him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Stronger, broader arms are pulling Eddie away, throwing him back towards Bobby and the rest of the old team. The Captain’s eyes are furrowed with both concern and discontent, but Buck’s focus is on the man who intervened; tanned skin and dark hair all too familiar. Those arms are pulling him into a tight hug, hand rubbing against his back, a soft sigh against his ear.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Ev?”
“Kel…” Buck croaks, hugging his brother back just as tightly. For a long moment, all his worries and what if’s disappear. For a long moment, he’s seven years old again, after his mother’s death, clinging to Kelly like he might disappear.
The rest of the 118 can only watch as the newcomer tucks Buck into his side like he’s a small child, then surveys them all with a look of absolute disdain. The sound of heavy boots turns their attention to the bay doors, where two new vehicles have parked, and to the men and women exiting them.
Chief Wallace Boden is an intimidating man to those who don’t know him, and the dark eyes that survey the 118 with nothing more than dismay send shivers down most of their spines.
Even Bobby has the wherewithal to look intimidated by the man.
“Listen up.” Boden calls out, stepping into the 118 for the first time. “We are not here to make your lives hell, or to dole out punishment for something we’ve only been told about. But let me make one thing clear. If any of you lay a hand on another member of this department, you’re gonna be out on your ass before you can even say ‘fire’.”
Boden gestures to the two crews behind him. “We are here to bring in a new era for the LAFD, and to teach you what it means to be a team, and a family. In this job, your crew should be the people you can count on, and from what I’ve heard of the 118’s recent actions, that cannot be said for most of you.” His eyes seek out Captain Nash. “I’m sure Chief Alvarez has made things clear, but I will say it again. Work with me, show me you give a damn, or don’t come back.”
Slowly, Boden approaches Nash, looking the other man up and down for a moment. “Chain of command starts with me, and I run four units on any large scale call. Squad, ladder, truck and ambo. LAFD is going to follow the same structure here at the 118.” Boden gestures to Kelly, still at Buck’s side, and to Matt Casey, who had made his way to Kelly’s side, also providing comfort to Buck. “Lieutenant Kelly Severide runs Squad. Captain Matt Casey runs Truck. I will allow you, Captain Nash, to keep run of your own Ladder.” His gaze never waivers from Nash’s. “Do not mistake this for any sort of leniency on my part towards your actions to your crew, but if we’re doing this by the new book, Captain does outrank Lieutenant.”
Then he turns away, waving a hand to dismiss Nash entirely. “My other two Lieutenants belong on Squad anyway.”
He waves forward two women, their attire immediately giving away their positions as EMT’s. Chim and Hen perk up to attention at this. “Leslie Shay is PIC on Ambo, with Sylvie Brett. Your EMT’s will be learning from them.”
Boden takes a moment to let his gaze rest on Buck, still tucked into Kelly’s side. Matt’s whispering softly to him, a fond look on his face, and Boden watches as Buck slowly comes around, expression betraying both the fear he holds at their presence, but also the obvious comfort they bring. Then he’s gazing back at the entirety of the 118.
“Any questions?”
If there were, the sound of the bells ringing drowns them out. Boden moves to the printer, reading the report with a nod. “Ambo, squad, hiker in distress.”
51 move in record time, despite being out of their comfort zone. Between murmuring about needing the alert system updated, Boden points to Hen and Chim, “Ambo,” then two other members of the 118, “Squad.”
As the four race to find their positions on the two vehicles, he looks to the rest of the 118. “I believe you all have chores to do.”
Then, to the shock of the 118, Bobby and Eddie especially, Boden turns to the now alone Buck – hands in his pockets and lowered gaze just about meeting Boden’s eyes.
“Lieutenant, you joining us on Squad, or what?”