Chapter Text
Buck had actually planned on telling everyone. Really, he had. Impulsivity had always been his thing but this time he had it all planned out. He had even written down what he would say, word for word, and had practised it in front of the mirror.
The plan was as follows. He’d go into the station at midday on a weekday, when the shifts were usually slow. Bobby would most likely be in his office so Buck would head there first, and he’d ask the captain to gather the others for him so that he could speak with them. If they were out on a call, Buck would just wait for them up in the loft. He’d make sure to park visibly so that they would know he was there and it wouldn’t be too much of a shock when they came back, he didn’t want them to feel ambushed or something. And when they were all gathered, he would tell them.
Only, that didn’t happen. They had already heard about the lawsuit. About how he had withdrawn it, more specifically. And they had been angry before, but this seemed to have only made it worse. They thought he had sued only to be petty, to be cruel.
Chimney had been the one to spot him when he’d walked into the station and Buck had reached into his pocket, had clutched onto the script he kept there as if it was a lifeline as the others gathered by the railing, looking down at him. The plan was already falling apart but he still had to tell them.
But they were so angry, and they just kept talking, accusing him, and Buck couldn’t say anything except sorry. Over and over again he said it, until it felt like the word held no meaning any longer.
And so he left. He got in his car and tore his script into pieces before driving home while trying not to cry.
Buck had never liked hospitals. Sure, he had done things that he knew might have him end up in a one loads of times in his life, but it wasn’t like he enjoyed his time in the hospital. He had just wanted some attention.
Buck hated hospitals as an adult. It made him think of his first date with Abby, of the truck bombing, of the embolism, of the tsunami. Just, a lot of bad memories, is all.
Which is why he had wanted to tell everyone so quickly. Just so he didn’t have to go to this appointment on his own. Last week he had gone alone, thinking it would be just another check up and then his doctor had looked at him with pity in his eyes and told him they’d found abnormalities in his blood work and they needed him to stop taking his blood thinners and come back in a week.
His doctor had been simultaneously vague and clear when he told him what they would be looking for. Listing all the possible reasons that his blood cell counts were off. But on that list was cancer and Buck knew that with his fucking luck, it would be that. The look on his doctor’s face made him think that he thought so too.
He also didn’t want to have a huge-ass needle stuck into his bone while all alone. So that was why he had tried to tell them. He had considered just telling Eddie or Bobby but that felt unfair to Hen and Chimney so he decided that if he told one of them, he’d tell them all. But they hadn’t wanted to listen and Buck hadn’t had the strength to tell them in the face of their anger.
So he went to the hospital alone. He let the doctor explain the procedure even though he had researched the whole thing obsessively all week. He let them check his vitals and signed the informed consent forms and got changed into the hospital gown, desperately trying to ignore the memories of the last time he wore one.
“Just lay down here, Mr. Buckley.” Nurse Doris told him. She was old and her smile was kind. “You can choose if you want to lay on your side or your stomach.”
Buck laid down on his side and tried not to think about the medical diagrams and videos he’d seen of the procedure as the doctor numbed the area where the needle would go in. He forced himself to breathe deeply and wished he had taken the offer of getting a mild sedative to ease his anxiety.
Unfortunately, the local anaesthetic couldn’t stop him from feeling the procedure completely, and it still hurt. Buck’s fist clenched and he pressed his lips together tightly at the uncomfortable feeling. He felt a hand on his and opened his eyes - he hadn’t realised he’d closed them - and saw Doris seated in front of him.
“You can squeeze my hand if you’d like.”
Buck was way past feeling any shame and took her hand gratefully.
The aftermath of the biopsy wasn’t too bad. He followed the advice of icing his hip and walking around to ease the soreness. Nothing he did could ease the anxiety bubbling beneath his skin though and it was almost a relief when he got his diagnosis, if only because it gave him a clear picture of what his life in the foreseeable future would look like. No uncertainty to be had, really.
He had cancer.
Despite the fact that he had already expected the diagnosis, he was still in shock sitting in that doctor’s office. It was a bit embarrassing asking if he could get everything written down after Dr. Matthews had told him everything. But she just nodded, understanding of the fact that it was all very overwhelming.
“It’s important that you don’t isolate yourself while going through this,” she told him when they neared the end of the meeting. “You will need the support.”
Buck had said something in agreement and grabbed the stack of papers, brochures and prescriptions before leaving the office.
He felt sick, he thought as he sat outside the hospital, trying to keep his breaths slow. And then he laughed. He probably looked hysterical and it wasn’t funny at all. But fuck he felt sick. And he was sick.
Really sick.
Returning from the clinic after his first treatment was anticlimactic. He had seen so many films and read so many stories that he had expected that he’d end up kneeled in front of his toilet bowl after only an hour and then his hair would fall out during the night.
That didn’t happen.
His doctor had already told him what could happen. That he’d probably feel a bit tired - which he already did, what with the medication he had been prescribed with already - and might get nauseous and breathless within a few hours. But he didn’t. He felt just as tired as he had when he went in for treatment, no worse, no better.
He was relieved by it, of course, but it made him feel a bit ridiculous. He had stocked up on ginger and peppermint tea. Had made sure to have mouthwash on hand and even put a pillow in his bathroom, just in case.
It left him feeling restless, too, despite the tiredness, and he ached to call someone. But he didn’t really have anyone to call, now did he? The team wanted nothing to do with him and Buck hadn’t kept in touch with any of the friends he made while travelling, which only left Maddie.
Maddie, who would be there in the blink of an eye if he told her. She may have been disappointed in him for suing the LAFD but she was still his big sister and if he needed her, she would come. And that was precisely why he couldn’t tell her.
Ever since she came back into his life it was like she was trying to make up for lost time. As if it was her fault that they’d been separated. She was still healing from everything that Doug had put her through and was starting to find some happiness with Chimney. Telling her about this would just be cruel and he’s not sure she would be able to handle it, no matter how strong she was. Maybe because of how strong she was. She would bottle it all up and keep a brave face on for Buck’s sake and that was just too much to ask of her.
So Buck settled down on his couch and tried to let himself be distracted by daytime television.
The side effects of his first treatment came the second day, which was luckily on Saturday. It wasn’t awful, he felt nauseous and a bit light headed but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. But he knew it would only get worse from there on out so when he went into work come Monday morning, he asked to speak with his supervisor right away.
Gordon Nelson was a pretty chill boss but he’d been cold towards Buck after he heard about the lawsuit. It wasn’t like he punished Buck with bad hours or increased his work load or anything, he just, wasn’t as nice. But he wasn’t cruel either and didn’t even raise a brow when Buck approached him, just held the door to his office open and gestured for him to come inside.
He did raise a brow when Buck told him that he’d withdrawn the lawsuit almost two weeks ago. Gordon had opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask questions but Buck had powered on. He had written another script and was determined to follow it this time. It was far easier to speak when the person he spoke to wasn’t glaring at him.
Buck told him that he withdrew the lawsuit when he found out that his doctor had found some abnormalities in his bloodwork, having realised it was probably a sign he really wasn’t fit to be a firefighter yet. The line of concern in the older man’s expression deepened when Buck told him that those abnormalities were confirmed to be caused by cancer.
Buck hated pity but it was better than the apathy that had been directed at him for the past month. And besides, Buck needed this job, needed the insurance that came with it, he had even more medical expenses to pay for and Mackey was demanding payment as well.
Gordon understood this immediately and scheduled a meeting later in the week for the two of them to look over what Buck would be able to do in the upcoming months. It wasn’t like his job as a fire marshal was very active but Buck wasn’t exactly going to be in tip-top shape and they needed to figure out how to work around his appointments and the many sick days he’d most likely have to take.
“You’re strong, Buckley,” Gordon told him when he got up to get to work. “You’ll get through this.”
“Thank you, sir,” Buck said and shook his hand.
Buck couldn’t stop poking at the port in his chest. He had been very good at resisting the urge the first few days after getting it put in but once the dressing was off and the soreness went away, he couldn’t stop. It made it all feel a lot more real. Similarly to how the knowledge of the screws and metal plates in his leg made sure he never forgot that a truck had crushed it once. It was this physical intrusion of his body and he hated it.
It made chemo easier though. He wouldn’t have to sit there while the nurse tried to find a vein to stick him in, leaving him bruised for days. All they had to do was access the port and treatment could get started. He had been clear that he wanted to do whatever he could to make his treatments faster and the looks of pity from his care team told him they knew exactly why. They had stopped asking if he would have anyone join him for his sessions, and stopped stressing the importance of not doing it alone.
It made him feel pathetic.
Just like how being bent over the toilet for most of the night made him feel pathetic. It seemed like the fact that his first treatment had only given him mild side effects was not a sign that it would all be easy. Of course he had known that already, but that didn’t make him feel any less miserable. At least he hadn’t started to lose his hair yet.
He was dozing on his couch when the doorbell suddenly rang and he frowned in confusion, trying to remember if he had ordered any food or had a package scheduled to be delivered or something, his memory coming up blank. Dizziness hit him when he stood up and he had to stand still for a bit before he could go answer the door.
“Hi,” Taylor Kelly said cheerfully when he opened the door and pushed her way inside before Buck could even consider closing it in her face. “Long time no see.”
“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, turning slowly to look at her as she spun around, taking in his apartment.
“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” she said and Buck eyed her wearily, trying to spot a mic or secret camera.
“What are you doing here?” Buck asked again and reluctantly closed the door behind him.
Taylor ignored him, wandered over to the window instead. “A decent view too.”
“Taylor,” Buck said sharply and she sighed, turning to face him.
“Why did you withdraw the lawsuit against the Los Angeles Fire Department?”
Ah. There it was.
She was looking for a story.
Buck opened his mouth to tell her to get out but his stomach rolled and he had to dash to the bathroom. He fell to his knees hard in front of the toilet and even though it hurt, the feeling of bile burning its way up his throat was worse.
Tears gathered in his eyes as he retched and gagged and he squirmed as he felt his shirt grow damp against his back, clinging slightly to his skin. The short run to the bathroom made his head spin as well and he had nearly forgotten that he wasn’t alone when he suddenly felt a hand on his back, stroking it gently. Past the sound of blood rushing in his ears he could hear a soothing voice and even if he couldn’t understand what it was saying, it was nice.
If only it wasn’t Taylor Kelly trying to soothe him.
When his stomach finally stopped trying to escape his body, he slumped over, leaning against the shower wall to his right. The feeling of the cool glass on the side of his face was nice but the cold wet towel that was suddenly being pressed against the other side of his face and dragged down his neck was even better. He hadn’t heard Taylor turn on the tap and he opened his eyes to look at her.
She looked genuinely concerned as she dabbed at his skin and he couldn’t resist leaning into it. He probably looked disgusting, he could feel the spit and vomit on his lips and chin.
“Hold this,” Taylor said and grabbed his wrist to get him to hold the towel for himself, and numbly, he did. “I’ll get you some water.”
“There’s a cup in the cabinet,” Buck croaked before she left the bathroom and she stopped, turned, and opened the cabinet behind the mirror. “Mouthwash,” he added.
Wordlessly, she filled the cup with water and Buck took a moment to wipe his face clean with the towel. He rinsed his mouth with the water she offered and then the mouthwash, distantly aware that she was still standing up.
“There’s a lot of medicine in here,” she said, voice soft.
“Yeah.”
“Like a lot of medicine,” she sounded almost like she wanted him to tell her she was seeing things.
“You going to make an exposé about this?”
Her head snapped to look down at him and Buck’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of tears in her eyes.
“No,” she said.
He didn’t expect Taylor to show up again. Not after she helped him get up from the bathroom floor to lead him back to the couch only for him to throw up the water he drank all over the both of them. It had been awful and awkward. They took turns showering and Buck gave her a pair of sweats and a shirt to change into - or, he told her where his closet was because he was too tired to make it up the stairs right then. Once all that was done and Taylor had finally gotten him situated on the couch, she had to leave to change and get back to work.
Yet, despite it, Taylor showed up again only three days later. Buck was feeling better that day but he’d been taking a nap after work and he wasn’t fully awake when she pushed her way inside. He closed the door as he scrambled to come up with something to say, unsure if he should apologise for last time or if he should tell her to leave.
“Are you allowed to drink?” she asked as she placed a couple shopping bags on the kitchen island, the clink of glass against glass loud in the silence.
“I am over 21,” Buck said confusedly, walking over to her.
Taylor looked at him as if he were stupid. “I meant with all the meds you’re on.”
“Oh,” Buck said. “Uhm- I’m advised against it.”
“Good thing I brought these then.” She opened her purse and reached inside to triumphantly pull out a plastic bag filled with brownies.
Buck just blinked at her.
“Come on.” She grabbed one of the shopping bags and took hold of his arm, pulling him towards the balcony. “It’s lovely weather today.”
”I’m not sure this is recommended either,” Buck spoke slowly, mostly because he wasn’t sure why he was sitting on his balcony with Taylor Kelly and wasn’t asking her to leave.
He accepted the brownie nonetheless.
Taylor was good at talking, Buck noted. It wasn’t news to him, she had been a radio reporter after all. But she was really good at talking, at not making him feel like he had to too. All he had to do was sit there and nibble on his brownie while she told him about her life, she even managed to make the boring bits seem interesting.
That might have just been the weed though.
When the sun started to go down Buck decided the chips weren’t enough to treat their cotton mouth and placed an order for burgers and fries and milkshakes. He was lucky he wasn’t dealing with any nausea that day. Good days were becoming less and less common as the weeks passed.
“How bad is it?” Taylor asked just as Buck took a bite of his burger and he didn’t flinch, too calm to do so.
She may have been able to speak casually, and act casually, but her eyes. They spoke volumes, so many emotions swimming in those orbs, so many questions revealing themselves from how her gaze kept jumping up and down his body as if she’d be able to find the answers in the lines of his limbs. He’d been waiting for her to vocalise them since she handed him the first brownie.
Buck swallowed his bite. “Pretty bad.”
“How bad?”
“The chemo might work but statistically…” Buck trailed off for a moment, grabbed a fry and dipped it in his milkshake. “The odds aren’t exactly in my favour.”
Taylor went quiet then. She tried not to let her upset show, smiled and kept her posture relaxed, but her hand shook slightly when she took a fry from Buck’s pack.
The next time Taylor showed up was not at Buck’s apartment. Instead, it was at the clinic while Buck was getting his body pumped with medicine with Toxic Waste warnings on the bags. Buck wasn’t shocked to see her, although he was a bit concerned. He pulled out his headphones and looked at her with a raised brow as she took a seat next to him, wordlessly offering him a bag of gummy bears as if that made her presence any more normal.
He took the gummy bears.
“How’d you know I was gonna be here?” Buck asked around a mouthful.
“It was on your calendar.” She shrugged and pulled a notebook and a pen out of her purse.
Buck felt his heart sink. He knew she was a reporter but he had believed her when she said she wasn’t going to make a story out of this, and last time she had barely asked him any questions apart from how sick he really was. It made sense that she’d go about it like this, lowering his defences and then showing up in a place where he couldn’t exactly storm off.
“On my phone that was locked.” Buck glared at her and she had the audacity to look surprised at his ire.
“Your password is your birthday,” she said, sounding incredulous.
That… was true. But it didn’t mean she had the right to break into his phone and find out his schedule and ambush him while he was getting chemotherapy - also, how the hell did she know when his birthday was? She may be ruthless when it came to getting a story but Jesus fucking Christ this was just going too far.
“I’m not answering any questions,” Buck said and gestured to the call button resting on the small table next to his chair. “I can get a nurse in here and get them to call for security.”
“What?” Taylor frowned for a moment before she seemed to realise that Buck had already figured her out. “Buck, I’m not here with any questions.”
Buck flicked his gaze down to her notebook and looked up at her with an unimpressed raised eyebrow.
“Sure.” He scoffed and leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. These chairs were very comfortable, he might just take a nap and let Taylor catch the hint. “Whatever you say.”
Taylor did not catch the hint.
Taylor did slap his arm.
And kept slapping his arm until he stopped ignoring her. Buck caught her hand in his and turned his head to glare at her but it was a bit difficult when she was glaring back just as angrily.
“I am not doing a story on you,” she said, enunciating each word as if he was slow. “I brought this-” She waved the notebook in the air. “So that we can make a bucket list as a distraction.”
“Oh.”
“So,” Taylor said, pulling her hand out of Buck’s grip and grabbing the pen that she’d dropped in her lap. “What should we put down first?”
The shift in mood was so quick that Buck felt a bit nauseous. It might have just been the chemo though. Or it was the fact that a bucket list wasn’t a bizarre suggestion at all considering the circumstances and that was disorienting despite the fact that Buck had lived in this reality for three weeks already.
“I don’t know.” He managed to say, his throat tight and tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.
“Do you want to travel?”
“Done that already.”
“Bungee jump?”
Buck shook his head no.
“Skydive?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” Taylor tapped her pen against her cheek. “Do drag?”
Buck laughed. It wasn’t that he was against the idea - it might even be fun, honestly - but it was so sudden that it shocked the laughter out of him. Taylor grinned and wrote it down. She tilted the notebook away and kept scribbling on the page and Buck tilted his head in question, unable to stop grinning.
“Pick one.” Taylor said and held up the page and Buck started laughing all over again. “You need a drag-name.”
- Lady Lace
- Mistress Fawn
- Bambi Dearest
“Number 1 for sure.”
For a long while they sat there talking about what Buck’s first routine should be, brainstorming what songs would fit him and whether they’d be able to find someone to teach him what he needed to know. Taylor even started googling the scene in LA to see if she could get in contact with someone for him. Buck wouldn’t do it but it was fun to fantasise and time passed quickly for once and soon enough a nurse came in to take the IV out.
“I didn’t know you’d have someone join you today,” the nurse, Emma, said conversationally, glancing between Buck and Taylor as she gathered up the bag and tubes.
“Ah,” Buck said, feeling a bit awkward. “This is Taylor, a friend.”
Emma nodded at her and Taylor smiled. “I’m glad you’re not doing this alone anymore, Evan.”
Buck swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried to smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Well, you know the drill,” Emma said. “Stay seated for 15 minutes and then I’ll come and sign you out.”
“You got it.” Buck gave a salute and Emma chuckled.
Buck stared at the door she’d left through long after she left but he could feel Taylor’s eyes on him. It made his skin crawl and he wished he could be angry with her again. If he didn’t like her presence so much he wouldn’t have to feel so embarrassed.
“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Taylor asked after a long, tense silence.
“No.”
“Why?” She sounded too gentle. Dangerously close to threading into pitying.
“They’re angry with me because of the lawsuit.”
Buck didn’t know why he was telling her this. Maybe she really was going to do a story about it, playing the long game to get him to spill everything. And now she didn’t even really have to play, he was telling her anyway. But he hadn’t really talked to anyone apart from the hospital staff in weeks and he was tired of being alone and silent and- And this might come back to bite him in the ass when she aired the story but hey, he might not be around to see it.
“Don’t you think they’d be able to put aside their anger if they found out about this?” she asked, still so damn gentle.
“I don’t want them to,” Buck whispered, still refusing to look at her. “They shouldn’t forgive me just because I’m sick.”
Taylor was quiet for a long time and then he heard the sound of paper being ripped and he had always been a curious person and couldn’t resist turning to face her. She looked determined, scarily so.
“Let’s scrap the bucket list idea,” she said and wrote something on the blank page. “We’ll do this instead.”
She grinned and held it up for him to see and he couldn’t help but smile as well.
OPERATION: FIX THINGS