Chapter Text
Buck hasn't slept in days.
When he thinks about it, he probably hasn't really slept in weeks. It's fine, though. He's fine.
Strangely, his nightmares come in the form of a great wave. The tsunami was years ago, now. How many more traumas has he added to the pile in the time since, a collection of ghosts who come to haunt him.
No, it's always the tsunami.
He has work in two hours, has tried relentlessly to get scant seconds of rest, but the sun is rising. It's pointless, now. He’s been watching the darkness slowly change to light, trying to think of anything other than his nightmares.
He drags himself from Eddie's bed, the right side of it perpetually cold. Eddie hasn’t slept there for months. How long does he have to be gone for Buck to stop thinking of it as Eddie’s? The answer, he knows, is forever. Everything here will always be his, Buck included, whether Eddie cares or not.
The coffeemaker hums, working slower and slower every day. Maybe the coffeemaker misses Eddie, too.
Texas is a bruise that Buck keeps pressing on to feel the ache. It's the weight on his back, pushing him down, down, down. It's a twelve hour drive, and it's light years away. Every step he takes, he feels the distance between them. A near-constant ache that he’d convinced everyone had gone away months ago. If only he could convince himself.
His phone is ringing - Maddie, again. It's usually Maddie. He answers, because it will be worse for him if he doesn't.
“Baby keeping you up again?” He asks, in lieu of a greeting.
The sound of the baby gurgling, weighing up the pros and cons of crying, answers the question. “I knew you'd be awake, thought we could suffer together.”
It’s a poor choice of words, and they both know it. He can feel her grimace without seeing her. Since Joy was born, though, Maddie’s been keeping as erratic a sleep schedule as he has. She’s probably the only other person he knows as chronically exhausted as he is, so he can’t blame her for the slip of the tongue.
She calls most days, if Buck doesn’t come round to visit. In the long, lonely hours together they’ve been making their way through the Real Housewives franchises, for lack of anything better to do. It’s easier to watch women get drunk and argue than it is to talk about everything else.
Instead of asking how he is, and Buck having to lie and say he’s fine, they talk about Erika Jayne and her old husband. He jokes about becoming a sugar baby, and she calls him an idiot.
“I, uh. I do have a date this Friday, actually,” he says.
Maddie hums in surprise. “That’s great, Buck! Have you talked to Dr. Copeland about it?”
He hasn’t talked to Dr. Copeland about anything in months, but it’s easy enough for him to lie. “Yeah, she’s proud of me for putting myself out there again.”
“Keep me updated,” she says, an undercurrent of concern in her voice. He would, of course he would. After last time, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel safe dating again, which was crazy considering everything about Buck.
They hang up, and as he drives to work in silence, he remembers the wave. The chaos, the loss, the impossible thought that Christopher could be- could be. He can’t even think the word. Even in his dreams, there’s never a body, his subconsciousness knowing that there’s only so much he can take before he splinters into pieces too small for anyone to put back together again.
It floods him, leaving him gasping for breath, drowning on dry land.
As he parks the jeep, he rolls his shoulders back, digging within him to find some approximation of Buck to perform for the next twenty-four hours. He can’t hide the dark circles beneath his eyes, but he can still force himself to smile. Still spends countless hours of his sleepless nights trawling through wikipedia mindlessly for strange facts to share at inopportune moments.
Most shifts, he finds himself wanting to scream the q-word, just for something to do. If they have so many calls they can barely eat, then his friends will be less likely to notice that Buck is fading away right in front of their faces.
He doesn’t, though. Breaking their superstition on purpose would be the first sign that something is wrong with him. A fatalistic need to tempt fate to destroy him so that he doesn’t have to do it himself.
He grins his usual grin and makes his usual jokes, heading straight for the coffeemaker. If his hands tremble from exhaustion, nobody notices. It’s not as if Chimney is sleeping, either, and Hen and Bobby both have their own lives to worry about.
“How’s the house coming along?” He asks Bobby as they cook lunch together, navigating the kitchen as well as they always do. It’s been hours, and there’s only been one call - a woman trapped in a broken elevator. There had been a second, a brief and terrible second, where he had seen the woman’s dark waves and thought it’s her before rational thought could take over.
She died. Maddie had killed her. Just another burden for his sister to bear.
Bobby sighs so deeply his whole body sags with the exhale. “It’s coming. Slowly. They say it’ll only be a couple more weeks until it’s technically liveable, but I’m not sure.”
“Just keep focusing on how good it’ll be when it’s done. A new home, that’s just for you and Athena.” Buck keeps his gaze on the onion he’s chopping, staring in wonderment as it doubles and morphs before returning to being just an onion.
How long has Buck been underwater? For the hours since he’d been awake, for the months since Maddie and him had been taken, for the years since that first wave had swept him under and away?
Bobby’s words become muffled and blurry. Buck pricks himself with the tip of the knife to jolt himself back into the present.
“Are you okay, Buck?”
No. “I’m fine, cap. Focus your concern on your new house, not on me.”
Bobby’s brow furrows, but any words he might have said are lost when Chimney flops himself onto the couch in the loft and starts complaining about Joy keeping them up all night again.
***
It’s rare for him to dream about being kidnapped. In the few brief hours of sleep he finds a week, it’s other nightmares that swim their way to the surface. The memories of that day seem to have repressed themselves, with very little effort on his part. Occasionally, though, they seep out, breaking containment.
It had been much worse, those first days after he’d woken up, after he’d tried to come home. Buck had rarely felt unsafe before. After all, he always runs headfirst towards danger rather than away from it. What is the purpose of him if not to be the barrier between pain and people in need?
His loft had become tainted. The same bed that she had slept in, the same couch, the same air that they had both breathed. Toxic fumes that only he could see, lingering in the corners of his home.
Eddie had told him to take his house. After all, it wasn’t like Eddie needed it. It was the least he could do, he’d said, in lieu of being there.
In the dream, it’s Eddie who holds the knife. It’s Eddie’s laugh that mocks him as he tries not to scream, as he tries to hide his pain for Maddie’s sake. It’s pathetic that a part of him is just grateful to hear Eddie’s voice.
He startles awake, the sheets beneath him wet with sweat. He reaches a hand out to the empty side of the bed next to him, feeling it’s cool touch against his boiling skin. It would be so easy, to just roll over, but he refuses. To take Eddie’s side of the bed would be admitting that he might not come home, and the thought steals his breath, makes his heart pound even faster in his chest.
He calls Eddie, though there’s no guarantee that he’ll pick up. Between working shifts with the El Paso fire department and working on rebuilding his life with Christopher, Eddie has been awfully busy these days.
The phone rings, and rings, and rings. There’s a beep, and he swallows back his sadness when he hears the familiar sound of Eddie’s voicemail, telling him the answering machine is full.
An apt metaphor, he thinks. Everyone else’s lives are so full, there’s just no room for him any more. Needy , he thinks. A burden. Exhausting.
There’s a universe where she finished the fucking job and put him out of his misery. He couldn’t even succeed at getting serial killed.
***
“Buck, sorry, I didn’t even see you’d called until now. Is everything okay?” Eddie’s voice is harried on the other end of the line. He can hear him rustling around, presumably getting ready to take Christopher to school.
“Yeah, yeah, it was just a nightmare. You know how it is. How’s Christopher?”
“He’s… good. He actually stayed the night. We’re going to the lake this weekend, maybe we’ll actually get to talk through what happened.” Eddie softens, and Buck can perfectly picture the hopeful smile on his face. The one where he’s too afraid to think he actually deserves good things in his life. That he can’t believe the world can sometimes turn in his favour.
Buck would do anything for Eddie to be happy.
“Good. Good! That’s good.”
“Buck-”
“Oh, that’s Maddie, sorry. I should go.” There’s no one at the door. There’s no one trying to call him. He just hangs up, not wanting to hear whatever Eddie has to tell him. If he doesn’t hear that Eddie is staying in El Paso forever, then it can’t be true. The pathetic logic of a child, but the promise of Eddie returning is the only thing keeping him afloat.
***
He wasn’t lying to Maddie about his date. Maybe he’s feeling reckless, or maybe he is just finally starting to process and move on, but regardless he agrees to meet a guy he met at a call on Friday night. There’s so little going on in his life right now, he might as well throw himself back into the breach.
The guy has dark hair and eyes like pools of honey, and he distinctly does not think about what feelings he is projecting onto a stranger. His name is Derek, but Buck doesn’t care. All that matters is that in the dark, he can pretend that it’s Eddie.
Not-Eddie’s touch is firm and uncaring. Nothing like how he imagines Eddie would be, but nothing like her , either. In the weeks they’d been dating, she had been so gentle. He had really thought that she’d cared. More fool him, he supposes.
It’s better this way. Impersonal.
The guy asks him back to his place, so he goes, and the sex is fine but he still can’t sleep. He’d thought having a warm body next to him, someone he can turn to in the night and who’ll hold him through the nightmares, would make it easier.
When he wakes with a gasp, the body next to him doesn’t even stir. In the darkness, he could almost pass for Eddie, but clearly looks aren’t enough. He doesn’t have Eddie’s smell, or his gentle hands, or his big heart.
He slips out of the bed, driving the long way back to Eddie’s house. They’re not together - never have been, never will be - so Buck doesn’t know why he carries the same dirty feeling as he’d had after kissing Lucy.
When he gets home, he stews in his guilt. Stews in the feeling of being used. Standing in the shower, he tries to understand why everyone thought that this would be good for him. It was this behaviour that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, surely. His own craven need to be loved that constantly blinded him to red flags, made him cling to the wrong people in the hopes that this time he would be enough.
What if he can’t be fixed? He stands facing the water, letting it sting his eyes in the lieu of the tears he has been unable to shed since Eddie left. Maybe his parents were right all along, and he was just too difficult to love.
***
Buck still cooks enough for three, the kinds of large, hearty meals that they all enjoy. When Eddie and Christopher come home, he wants them to come home to a house that feels full of love. The leftovers crowd the freezer these days, barely enough space left for the amount that he is making.
What an apt metaphor, he thinks. His love always overflows, too big to be contained, too overwhelming. His love is a tap that someone forgot to turn off, running water flooding the floor and destroying what it touches.
He looks at the freezer, then at the fridge, trying to find some room for this mac and cheese. He needs to start throwing things away, but he just can’t right now. Instead, he sets it aside in some tupperware. That’s a problem for later.
It’s a beautiful day outside, and he has nothing to do, so he finds himself going to the pier.
He walks alone, pausing by the stalls and rides and games that he and Christopher had enjoyed before the tsunami hit. Though, of course, they weren’t the same. Replacements and replicas of what have been here before.
It’s the first time he’s visited since the tsunami hit. It felt like the right thing to do. If the tsunami is going to haunt him, then he will haunt it right back.
Surprisingly, he finds himself smiling at the memories. Christopher tilting his head towards him, telling him everything was going to be okay. What did he even have to sulk about now, compared to then? He still had his job. Physically, he had recovered quicker than anyone had expected.
Why couldn’t he be happy?
He drifts down the boardwalk, trying to find the sound of the sea beneath the liveliness of the pier. The gentle push and pull of waves belying their destructive power.
If Buck hadn’t been here for the tsunami, then he would never know that the pier had even been destroyed. It was remarkable, really, the effort to rebuild. If only the city had millions of dollars to recreate him.
That’s what he’s always trying to do, right? Build a new, better Buck. Software updates that turn him into a person who he’s actually proud to be. If he gets the right upgrade, suddenly he’ll be fixed.
He goes to the pier alone, and he comes home alone, and he thinks about going to Maddie’s, but it’s her date night and he can’t keep crashing into her life.
He looks into the fridge, as full as it had been before, and closes the door. He leaves the mac and cheese out, and goes to bed. He’s not hungry any more.
***
Hen’s sitting next to him on the couch, taking a rest after a difficult call. It’s always hard, losing someone. It’s even harder when it’s a child. They lean their shoulders together, Buck’s coffee warming his cold skin.
She’s just finished video calling Karen, talking to Denny and Mara in lieu of being able to hold them in her arms. He’s sent off a casual text to Eddie and Christopher, but he doesn’t expect a response. Every day, he understands Eddie’s urge to spontaneously move more and more, as he feels the distance grow between them.
“You didn’t have any lunch today, Buck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not eat on Pasta Thursday.” Her tone is achingly gentle, and it pushes him down further into his already bad mood.
He doesn’t deserve this. “I’m not hungry.”
“I know that was a tough call, but we did everything we could. Sometimes, it just isn’t enough.” She’s always so sensible, Hen. Always right. But she has a home and family that she has fought for to come home to, and he has a freezer full of chilli and lasagna that he won’t let himself eat.
“I know.” He forces himself to smile, and hopes it doesn’t look as false as it feels. “I’ll just have to have seconds at dinner.”
She shifts in her seat, taking him in with the practiced and caring eyes of a paramedic. “You can talk to us if you’re not okay, Buck.”
“What makes you think I’m not okay?” He tries to sound guileless, but his voice wavers as the words leave him.
“You haven’t been okay since Eddie left. You don’t have to pretend with us.”
He swallows. “I mean it, Hen. I’m fine.”
Hen sighs, but she doesn’t press him, though she would be well within her rights to. “Well, we’re here for you. Always.”
He smiles at her. “I know. Thanks, for always looking out for me.”
***
He’s back in the tsunami again, trapped in the infinite tumble of waves. It’s always a surprise to remember how forceful water can be. How it bruises, and drags, and twists, and kills. In this dream, he breathes in, inhaling the brackish taste of the ocean. He drinks it in, consuming the water until he is so full his body comes apart at the seams. A toy that’s been played with too often fraying at the edges until it is replaced with a new one.
***
When Eddie had left, Buck spiralled.
Most nights, it seemed, were spent in someone else’s bed, or car, or on one memorable occasion a hedge in a public park. He was drinking too much, and fucking too much, and he was empty inside.
So, when he’d met her , he’d felt a connection. She hadn’t been like the other dates and one night stands. She had been like a curious bird, and he the seed on the ground that she was deciding whether or not to consume. He was a raw nerve, but she had felt safe. Easy to talk to. He couldn’t fall for her, but maybe they could be something .
Then, she took him. And she took Maddie, too.
Maybe he’s still in that warehouse. Maybe he died months ago, and this is hell.
***
“Chimney told me you’ve been on a couple of dates recently?” Eddie asks on their next call. Eddie is putting away laundry, and Buck watches him. If he stares long enough without blinking, the screen of the tablet starts to blur and he can pretend that Eddie is really in the room with him.
“Uh, yeah,” he says. “It’s mostly to get Maddie off my back about it.”
“So, you haven’t met anyone.” Eddie keeps turning to look at him between folding shirts and placing them back in the wardrobe. Buck remembered when they’d skype months ago, and the few clothes that Eddie had brought with him had been packed in bags or slung across the floor.
Buck shrugs, trying to ignore the pang of seeing Eddie making his new home without him. “The last time I thought I met someone, she was a serial killer.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “You can’t hold that against yourself forever. How were you supposed to know that?”
“Do you think I’m cursed?” Buck asks, out of nowhere. “Did I piss off some cosmic entity?”
Eddie scoffs at him. “Come on, Buck. You know I don’t believe in all that shit. You shouldn’t either. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
"There’s a lot wrong with me, and we both know it,” Buck says.
“Nothing worse than what’s wrong with everyone. You need to give yourself a chance to be happy. That’s what I did, and now look at me.”
Buck does look, because he is always looking at Eddie when he can. He looks infinitely more relaxed than he had in the beginning, the sun catching his hair. He looks beautiful, and Buck will never take this happiness from him. In the background, he hears Christopher’s voice, presumably playing games with his friends. “Maybe I can come out, visit you in El Paso some time? When our schedules match up.” He tries not to sound too pathetically hopeful.
“Sure, you know I’m always happy to see you.” Christopher calls his name, and Eddie looks so content at being near his son again that Buck, for the first time, looks away. “Gotta go, text me when you’re free!”
Buck gives a pathetic wave, before collapsing back on the bed. Eddie had hung up before he could even say goodbye.
***
He's never thought so much before about the colour of the sky at night. Barely given it any thought at all.
As he sits on the roof of the station, a cup of hot chocolate warming him, he watches as the sky turns from deep blue to near black. It's never fully dark, though. The light pollution bleeds its ugly yellow into the purity of the sky.
He remembers, on his travels, lying in the back of the jeep and falling into the infinite blue of the sky in Montana. Strange, how the sky can seem bigger in places. What does it look like in Texas? Does Eddie ever look, and think of him?
There's no calls that night, so he lays back down, watching the night turn from black to grey to blue again, the same old cycles, neverending.
He could walk right off the roof. He doesn't. The thought lingers, though.
***
Maddie looks more exhausted than he does, when he arrives at her house to babysit.
“Thank god you're here. Joy won't stop crying and Jee won't stop trying to help.” They both know that Jee's idea of help is ineffective at best.
“Uncle Buck!” Jee zooms towards him, faster than a speeding bullet.
He picks her up on impact, spinning her around as she giggles. When he's here, the thoughts of the roof feel further away, like he's looking at them through a fog. “How's my favorite person in the whole wide world?”
Everyone had been afraid, when Joy was born. Their little bundle of Joy who didn’t know that her arrival came loaded with trauma. Maddie is resilient, though, just like he’s supposed to be. This time around, her exhaustion isn’t dragging her down alone into depths where no one can find her.
It's been a relief for Buck. She’s been too tired to try and talk to him, her energy focused on being a mother to her actual children instead of on him. Besides, they always try and avoid talking about it while Jee-Yun is in the room. She’s still so young, but old enough now to pick up on their distress.
Maddie told him one night, while watching Kim and Kyle have their fourth fight of the season, that Jee had wept every night that she’d been in the hospital, recovering. That when she had come home, bruised but not broken, Jee had clung to her like she could put her back together with the force of her love. She had come out of bed one morning to see her trying to make breakfast, sobbing over a carton of broken eggs on the floor.
Just more guilt to weigh on him.
Maddie hadn't been well for a while, after. She'd stayed though, this time.
“How's Eddie?” She asks, because she always asks.
Buck shrugs. “He's… good. He seems happy. Settled. Christopher was round when I called.”
“Did you speak to him, too?”
He shakes his head. “A couple of years ago, before Eddie got shot, he ran away to my apartment. He was so devastated about people leaving him, and I told him- I told him he would always have me.” His breath shudders. “I guess he doesn't need me anymore, huh?”
“Buck-”
“Sorry, you don't need two babies crying on you right now.” He swipes a hand across his eyes, forcing the tears back.
“When was the last time you talked to Eddie? Really talked?” she asks. She paces around, bouncing Joy in her arms. The baby babbles to herself, the troubles of her world lessening in her mother's arms.
Buck sits Jee on the kitchen counter so that she can help him cook. With Eddie's fridge and freezer so full, he's moved to Maddie's. At least here, the food won't go to waste. “What am I supposed to say to him?”
“The truth, for a start.” Maddie speaks with a lack of patience born from exhaustion. They probably shouldn't be having this conversation now, with both of them on the edge like this.
“How will that help anything? He'll still be in Texas.”
“You need to do something , Buck!” Joy's voice wobbles, the imminent threat of tears returning, and Maddie stalks off with her to the bedroom.
Jee-Yun giggles at Buck. “Mommy's mad at you,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“She's not mad,” Buck says. “She's just worried.”
“Why is she worried?” Jee-yun considers him with the seriousness that only a toddler can possess.
Buck meets her eyes. “I got hurt, at the same time your mom did. It was really scary, but I'm fine now. It's hard to stop worrying about someone you care about sometimes.”
She just stares at him owlishly, not sure if she understands or not. Eventually, she nods. “Like daddy worries about mommy, and then they fight.”
After Doug, after Maddie leaving, after her , Buck knew that Chimney could sometimes be cloying. Not intentionally so, of course, but he loves her. “Exactly. But they always make up, right?”
“They kiss and it's super gross!”
“So your mom and I will make up, too,” Buck says. “No kissing, though. Yuck.”
***
All he had wanted was for no one to notice how much he was slipping away from them. Missing meals, unanswered texts, going home when they went out for drinks. He's ashamed that he's been so transparent this whole time, and everyone has been too concerned to call him out for it.
Buck has always worn his heart on his sleeve, it's true. He's not a great pretender, but he is resilient. Life kicks him down and he kicks it right back. He doesn't know why this is the thing keeping him pinned.
In his dream, he’s under the truck, and he is screaming. Eddie’s hand is there, holding on to him for dear life, whispering a litany of prayers to keep Buck alive and awake. Then, the wave comes, as it always does. By this point, he is no longer afraid of it. It’s an old friend to him. It scatters them all, crashing into the truck and dragging to down with it.
His leg is free, but Eddie is gone. All of his friends are gone.
Maybe he’s not pinned; this whole time, he’s been floating like a dandelion seed on the wind, lost with no direction. Driftwood being carried out by the tide.
He wishes the wave would either drown him or send him home, instead of leaving him in this limbo, adrift.
It’s three am when he wakes, and his leg pulses with each beat of his heart. His throat is hoarse - his screams must have been real, but there’s no one here who could have heard them. Small mercies.
He can still feel every place that she touched him, a trail of fire burning through him from the outside in. His wounds are long healed, so why can’t he just be better?
All he’s ever wanted is love, but pain has always been a good substitute. He lies there, and lets himself burn. One day, Eddie will come home and find a fridge full of rotten food and a pile of ashes on the wrong side of his bed.
***
When Buck tries to facetime Eddie on a grey Sunday morning, a woman answers instead. He doesn’t recognise her - she’s pretty, and blonde, and looks put together in a way Buck can’t even imagine being right now. He stutters out an apology and hangs up immediately.
He doesn’t try and call again. Eddie never calls him back, either.
***
He had been reckless, sure, after Eddie had first left. This was to be expected - his first course of action when in emotional distress is to throw his life around like his only purpose in living is to die for someone else. It had been nowhere near as bad as after the sniper, though.
Buck didn’t want to die. He just wanted to not think.
Lingering in burning buildings long after evacuation orders to double check for survivors, volunteering for the most dangerous jobs, throwing himself into rope rescues like he was unbreakable. Just usual Buck behaviour.
And then he’d met her and he had calmed down. Started to settle into the excitement of a new relationship. It was something to be alive for, even if it wasn’t quite what he wanted. And then there had been the warehouse. And then Eddie had stayed in Texas.
His pain had always been a cry for attention, whether he meant it to be or not, but Eddie was too far away now to hear his voice. He couldn’t resent it, though. Not when it came to Christopher.
These days, he’s not reckless. He’s just exhausted. The kind of tired that sits in your bones and turns your blood to lead. The kind of tired that fucks with your head. The kind of tired that will kill you if you let it, or if you don’t.
He’s pouring coffee, watching as it turns from brown to blood red back to brown again in fascination.
Why wouldn’t Eddie tell him he’d started seeing someone? Was he scared of Buck’s reaction? Why had Eddie never called him back?
“You okay there, Buck?” Chimney walks up behind him.
Buck blinks awake, the coffee pot he'd been holding now empty, the majority of its contents now on the floor. Some of it spilled onto his hand, but he barely feels the burn.
Chimney takes the pot from his hands gently, and pushes Buck over to the sink, rinsing his hand under cold water. “I'm just a little tired,” Buck says, his brain stuck on delay.
“I can tell. The other day, I was so tired I put Joy to bed in the bath instead of her cot. Just lucky it was empty.” Chimney laughs to himself, checking Buck's burns. “Doesn't look too bad.”
“It's fine. I can't feel it, anyway.”
“O…kay. That's not good.” Chimney blinks at him. “We've only got a couple hours left on shift, I'm sure it'll be fine if you go home. Get some proper sleep.”
“Seriously, Chim. Just drop it.” He shakes his hand out of Chimney's gentle grasp. The coffee wasn't that hot, and the redness is already abating. He finds himself wishing he could feel the sting of the scald just to keep him here, in this moment.
They're called out to a car accident, a small crash with more hurt feelings than actual injuries. Buck fetches the jaws without being told, helping the passenger out of the car.
It's a hot day, the sweat gathering beneath his heavy turnouts. The tarmac feels like it's turning to soup beneath his feet and the world spins slower and slower and slower until time stops completely. He's standing alone, surrounded by frozen bodies. It’s unnaturally silent. He can’t even hear the rush of his blood or the beat of his heart in his head. Has it stopped again? Three minutes and seventeen seconds wasn’t enough, apparently. His heart yearns for stillness.
When he blinks awake, he's on the floor, Bobby peering down at him in concern.
He doesn't need to hear to know what Bobby is saying.
Hen and Chim give him a quick once over and send him home. He's not allowed to come back until he's slept.
Surely, his body can do it. Just once. One night of sleep, then he can go back to work. He can still have something to live for.
***
He can't sleep because he misses a body that has never been his to miss. He can't sleep because the last time he slept well he'd woken up in a warehouse, his arms screaming in pain, his sister calling out his name. He can't sleep because when he sleeps he dreams and when he dreams he drowns.
“Eddie,” he whispers, curled up in bed, fingernails digging into his scalded palm. He can hear Eddie's tired breathing on the other end of the line.
“Buck, hey, are you okay?” Even through his sleep drenched voice, Buck can hear the concern.
He shivers. “I can't sleep.”
“Bobby texted me, said you collapsed at work.” He hears the sound of sheets shifting as Eddie moves, drags himself out of comfort and into the conversation.
“Do you all have a groupchat where you just worry about me or something?” He complains, but there’s no bite to the words.
Eddie breathes heavily. “Or something. Buck, it's been months, and you're not getting better.”
“I'm trying. I'm trying . I just- I can't- I need-” With each word his breath turns harsher, the air seeming thinner. “I need you.”
“Buck,” Eddie says, his voice impossibly sad. “You know I can't, not-”
“I know. I know. I’m sorry, I never meant to do this to you.” Buck blinks at the empty ceiling. His confession leaves him hollow. “All I want is for you to be happy, whether that’s here or in El Paso or fucking Mars. I just. I miss you, and I love you.”
Eddie exhales on the other end of the line, and Buck wishes he could reverse time, swallow the words back up. Instead, he’s thrown up on the floor and is expecting Eddie to clean it up.
He closes his eyes and envisions what it would be like, to share this bed with Eddie. To be looking him in the eyes, and telling him he loved him face-to-face instead of over the phone. He imagines Eddie’s arms around him, imagines holding Eddie in his own arms.
Eddie has never been his, though. “Buck, why?”
Buck's heart sinks further than he knew it could. His heart is in Texas. His heart is lost somewhere in the ocean, drifting, drifting, drifting. “I'm sorry. I know you're moving on. Just, tell Christopher I love him.”
“Buck? Buck, don't you fu-”
For once, it's Buck who hangs up.
***
He goes for a walk. He doesn't do this enough, he thinks, though it would probably be better if he'd brought a jacket, or his phone, or matching shoes.
He just picks a direction, no destination, watching the world as it passes him by. It's early in the morning, before the sunrise. If he looks closely, he can see stars in the sky. Millions of miles and years away, like little phantom lights. They could all be dead now, and no one on this strange little planet would know until long after he had turned to dust.
Someone bumps into him - he hadn't realised he'd just been standing in the middle of the street. He mumbles out an apology, and keeps walking.
The next moment he is aware of, he finds himself in a familiar industrial area. The sky has started to lighten, but the stars still blink back at him.
His bad leg cramps from the walking. It must have been hours - part of the reason he'd moved in to Eddie's in the first place is because it was further away. How did he even walk here at all, given how unwalkable the city is?
He moves closer, his hand brushing against the concrete wall of the warehouse. The door is rusty, torn from its hinges by the first responders when they arrived at the scene.
It's almost pitch black inside, though a little light from the moon illuminates through the high windows. How many days had they been held here for? Bobby had said it was only two, but time drags when you're being tortured.
He hates to use that word. Hates to even think it. Torture sounds so extreme for an experience that took him barely a month to be fully healed from.
In the pale light of the moon, he thinks he can still see red painting the floor. Who from? Him? Maddie? Her? She died here, after all. Maddie had struggled free as Buck had hung there, pathetic and useless.
If he waits here long enough, will her ghost appear? Maybe he had been following her voice all along, an echo calling him out to die where he always should have.
Though, that's not quite true, is it? He should have died in the lightning strike. He should have died under that ladder truck. He should have died in that fucking tsunami.
Maddie had told him, one quiet, dark night that she had left to kill herself. That she had walked out into the sea and hoped it would wash away all her sins. Probably not the worst way to go, he thinks. It would be peaceful there, his body wasting away to bones on the ocean floor.
It’s quiet, out here. In his mind, in the past, he hears the echoes of her laughter and his own swallowed screams. In the present, if he listens carefully, he can just hear the wind. Maybe a bird crying in the distance.
Maddie had told him about going back to Big Bear. How revisiting the scene of her trauma had helped her to put it to bed.
He feels stupid, and small, standing there alone in that big room, waiting for something terrible to happen. That was one of the worst parts, he thinks. He’s a big guy. He shouldn’t be scared of anything, but he’s never felt so vulnerable before and he hasn’t been able to shake it since.
He finds a clean spot on the floor - well, clean is a relative term, but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be picky. He settles down, stretching his bad leg, putting his weary soul to rest. An animal who has crawled away to die, alone and unnoticed.
“Why me?” He asks, voice echoing in the empty space. A void now where a nightmare had been. “Why can’t I let anything go?”
His eyes are so heavy, the draw of sleep near irresistible, but he tries to force himself to stay awake and watch the sun rise.
Beneath him, the ground begins to shake. For a moment, he thinks it is just his exhaustion, his mind playing tricks. Then, he hears the creak and groan of metal, notices the crumbling brick and the fragility of the walls.
Back then, in the quiet moments, when he had no strength left to tell Maddie that everything was going to be okay, he’d distracted himself by counting the code violations. He was Bobby’s son if he was anyone’s, and his time as a fire marshall had made him deeply aware of the many ways in which a building could be unsafe. He had looked at each crack in the wall and prayed for a disaster to bring the building down on him.
His prayers had been answered, too late. The last few months of his life have all been aftershocks, eroding the foundations of his being. The pillars that made up who he was, that gave him the will to never give up.
The ground continues to shift, the cracks in the wall behind him deepening until they can no longer bear the weight of being.
He has no energy left to move, so he lets himself be buried. His only regret is his phone call to Eddie; he never wants him to worry.
***
He can make out the sunlight through the cracks in his tomb when he blinks awake, and he curses the fact that he is not dead. He has no will to fight, just wants this one thing to be easy. He’s been dying for months.
His vision is blurry from an inevitable concussion, and his breath comes out short. He can’t move, pinned again.
He blinks, and he’s back under the truck, Eddie’s hand in his, begging him to hold on. Blinks again, and he’s back in the warehouse. Now that he’s here, now that he can see death’s shadow, he doesn’t want to be alone.
He tries to scream, to yell, but he cannot find the breath within him. His lungs burn with each attempt, and he knows that if he coughs, blood will follow. His ribs are definitely broken, the weight of the wall slowly pressing him down, down, down into the unyielding floor.
In the corner, there’s a shadow, that if he stares at for too long morphs into a body. It’s her, not a ghoul or a ghost, but as she was in life. Strange, mysterious, gentle until she grew bored with him.
“Just finish it, please,” he begs. His face is wet, though he hadn’t even realised he started crying.
She’s a wisp, there and then not, appearing and disappearing with the clouds that drift across the sun. He had missed the dawn.
“You’re so much prettier when you cry, though. Try to hold on a little longer.” Her voice rings in his ears. “Don’t fall asleep just yet.”
He can’t hold on, though. He’s been holding on for too long. There’s nothing left for him to hold on to, can’t she see that?
***
He should be dead, but cruel life has pulled him through again. He should be dead, his body carrion, hopefully never to be found. Let his friends and family think he had wandered off without telling them and started a new life. If there’s no body, then the hope can live forever.
The familiar sounds of the hospital echo around him. He hates to think of Tommy, but he was right - they should have a plaque on this room for how often someone from the 118 is in here.
He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Maddie is there by his bedside. “Go home,” he tries to say, his throat completely wrecked from lack of use. She feeds him some ice chips, her hands shaking as they gently tend to him.
There’s a flurry of activity that he is barely present for, letting himself slip away again. He hates to make them all worry, but consciousness is a slippery thing, evading his grasp at every turn.
***
While he sleeps, the wave comes again. It hits him straight in the chest, bowling him over, eating him alive.
***
Eddie stands in the doorway of his hospital room like he’s seen a ghost. His face is pale with exhaustion and his hands shake.
“I hope you didn’t drive here like that,” Buck slurs. It’s difficult to keep his eyes open, but he tries. Can’t close them while Eddie is here, can’t look away or he might disappear again.
“ Fuck you,” Eddie hisses, and Buck flinches back from the genuine venom in his voice. You’re exhausting he hears, resounding in his head like a bell. Eddie had been right, then. Is still right, now. He walks into the room, his body taut with repressed anger. “How could you, Buck? What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t- thinking. I just walked, and I was there again.”
“When you hung up- I’ve never been so afraid. You left your phone, and no one could find you-” Eddie paces around the small room, and tracking him is making Buck dizzy, but he can’t tell him to stop. “How many times do we have to tell you that you matter before you believe it?”
“I don’t know,” Buck whispers. “I’m trying, Eddie.”
“You can’t just tell me you love me and then crawl off to die!” The silence after Eddie’s words is deafening. The rush of blood to Buck’s head blocks out the relentless beep of the heart monitor and the staticky buzz of the lights.
“I’m sorry-” He stutters out again, pathetically. “Eddie, please.”
It’s too late, though. Eddie is already walking out the door. “I can’t do this right now.” And then he’s gone again.
***
That day is the first day he spends more of it awake than asleep. Given how much he’s been unconscious, he should feel well rested, but he is so tired that he thinks he might never get better. He can’t seem to die either, so here he is, stuck in purgatory.
Maddie is angry with him, too. Her words are short and sharp, her jaw held tight trying to keep the more damaging thoughts inside. It’s hypocritical, though, of her to be so mad at him. Surely she should understand more than anyone.
“How could you let it get this bad without talking to any of us?” She asks.
Buck lies back, feeling the stretch and pull of his lungs as they expand and retract. It’s good, being able to breath. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel like anyone could help. I mean, it’s been months, right? I should be over it by now.”
“There’s no best before date on trauma, Buck. You’re allowed to not be okay.”
“Am I? Maddie, nobody has time for me to not be okay. You and Chimney have Joy, and lord knows you have your own trauma to work through. Bobby and Athena are building a house. Hen and Karen just got their family back together, and Eddie. Eddie’s moving on, too.” He sucks in another breath. “It’s not anyone’s fault. I’m not blaming anyone. I’m just a spare part.”
She bristles against his words, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to argue back. “You know that we would all do anything to help you, no matter how busy or full our lives might seem on the outside. Just like you would do for us.”
“I know that, but you shouldn’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden anymore.”
Maddie’s eyes water. “You are never a burden.” She tries to blink her tears away, turning to look at the door instead of him.
“Okay,” he says, because ‘I know’ feels like a lie.
***
Bobby is calm. He brings him coffee and plays card games with him, like they had done after the lightning strike. “You’re very lucky we found you, you know?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but nobody really wants to talk about it. Not sure if I really want to talk about it either.” Buck places his set of threes, Bobby glancing at his hand in consideration.
“Eddie called me as soon as you hung up on him, told me he thought someone should stop by his house, see if you were okay. By the time Athena and I got there, you were gone. Phone, keys, everything still at home.” His breath wavers a little, but he keeps going. “Athena put out an APB and we drove around for a couple of hours looking for you.
“It was Maddie who thought we should go to the warehouse. Good thing she did. We were almost too late.” Bobby looks at him, placing a set of sevens and a suit of clubs.
Buck lays his hand on the bed, a collection of entirely useless cards. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know how many times he’s apologised, but it never feels like enough.
“You know, years ago, I was going to kill myself. I couldn’t live with the pain I was in, the pain that I had caused… I was going to save the same number of people I killed and then end it all. Debt paid.”
“What changed?” Buck asks, surprised at how honest Bobby is being.
“The 118. Athena. Myself and my perspective. A lot of things.” Bobby picks up the cards, reunites them with the deck. “It doesn’t just go away, though. There are still times where it all feels too heavy to bear. I just know better when to ask for help.”
Buck shifts, the discomfort from sitting up starting to turn into pain. “I didn’t go out there to die, I don’t think. I was just. Exhausted. I didn’t even know that’s where I was going. I was walking and then I was there. The time between is completely gone.”
“That must have been scary for you.”
“Probably not as scary as it was for you. I never wanted anyone to worry.”
Bobby leans forward, moves to rearrange Buck’s pillows and help him lie back again. “You can’t control how other people feel about you, Buck. Of course we were going to worry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Eddie that out of sorts before.”
“Well, he won’t come and talk to me now,” Buck says, struggling to stay awake.
“He just needs some time.”
“I know.”
***
His lease on the loft has long run out, so Hen drops him off at Eddie’s house when he’s released from the hospital. She helps him through the door, and they sit at the dining table, eating take out together in silence.
Too soon, she has to leave. He can tell from her slight frown that she doesn’t want to leave him alone, and knows it’s going to take a long time for everyone to trust him again. She hugs him gently, all too aware of his broken body, but it’s a relief to not have someone shouting at him.
Eventually, she leaves, and he’s alone.
It’s a different kind of silence, being home when you’re expecting someone to come back. There’s little pieces everywhere that signal Buck is alone only temporarily, instead of the enduring silence of his loneliness. Other pairs of shoes gathering by the door, dishes in the sink, the bed made with clean sheets and army corners.
He uses the little energy he has to tidy up, his chest tightening when he sees the empty tupperware on the counter. Most of the fridge has been cleared out, most of the food long since turning inedible. Something had been salvaged, though. His efforts hadn’t been entirely futile.
After, he waits for Eddie to come home with a pit of dread in his stomach. He sits on his side of the couch, flipping through channels on the TV until he lands on a nature documentary. Switches the channel again after watching a seal eat its own child. Normally, he would find the cruelty of nature a curiosity, but it sits a little too close to the darkness inside his own heart right now.
Is that what true love is? A creature so precious to you that you cannot bear the thought of it being hurt by the world, so you eat it. Protect it behind layers of muscle and fat and tissue and skin.
As he sleeps, he dreams of the wave as always, his body no longer his but the sleek skin of a seal, lost in the tumble as he watches Christopher disappear. He chases him, swimming against a current that is almost too strong, but the logic of the dream pushes him forward. When he finds Christopher, he swallows him down in one gulp.
***
He wakes up in the bed, though he doesn’t remember moving himself there. The space next to him is still empty, but he can hear the muted sound of the television through the door.
After, when he’d first moved here, he used to fall asleep by leaving the tv on and pretending that he wasn’t alone. It hadn’t worked - it was impossible to trick himself into thinking Eddie was in the other room. It feels unreal now that he really is here. That Eddie is home, if only for a while.
Buck creeps out of bed, and takes a moment to just watch Eddie. He can tell from the relaxed slump of his shoulders that he’d fallen asleep here, instead of in his own bed.
He shoots up as he hears the creak of the floorboards, heading over to Buck to help him sit down. Buck waves him off, even if he craves the touch. “You don’t have to do this,” he says, voice low.
“I don’t have to do what?” Eddie asks, shifting away from Buck.
Buck swallows. “I know that you’re building a new life in El Paso. You don’t have to stay here because of me.”
Eddie laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “Because the world always revolves around Buck, right?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”
“Isn’t it? You seem to think there can’t possibly be any other reason I would want to be in my own house.”
“But-”
“Of course I came back for you.” Eddie isn’t looking at him, his eyes resolutely staring ahead, like he’s projecting himself into a different place or time. Anywhere other than this couch, with Buck, on this day. “As soon as I could, I dropped Christopher off with Abuela and drove straight here.”
“I never meant for any of this to happen,” Buck whispers.
“I thought I was coming home to find a corpse, and that it would be my fault.”
Buck’s brow furrows in confusion.
“You called me, and you were so upset, and there was nothing I could do to help you. Why didn’t you tell me, months ago? Why did you let things get this bad?” Eddie’s voice is thick.
Buck reaches out a tentative hand, his instinct always to comfort, to soothe, to fix. Eddie sits there, within his grasp and yet a whole world away. He flinches at Buck’s touch. “What was I supposed to say? ‘I know you’re trying to fix your relationship with your son, but can we talk about me and my problems?’ I didn’t want to drag you down with me, especially now that things are going better for you.”
“Drag me down where? Buck, I hate El Paso.”
“But- you- You never told me that.” Buck is starting to think that there are a lot of things they haven’t told each other.
Finally, Eddie turns his gaze upon him, with the fury of a righteous angel. “The last time I saw you, you were in a coma. Again. Someone had hurt you, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I wasn’t even there. I could only come back and look at the aftermath, and wonder if it wasn’t all my fault.” It takes Buck a second to realise that Eddie’s fury is directed at himself.
“How could it possibly have been your fault?” Buck asks.
Eddie looks away again, picking at the skin around his fingernails. “If I hadn’t been a coward… If I had told you how I’d felt before leaving, none of it would have happened at all.”
Buck can’t breath, can’t look away. He is brittle, and Eddie is a sledgehammer swinging to shatter him. “And how- how do you feel?”
“I love you, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is flat, and he’s drawn blood, a tiny dot of that most precious substance standing out against his skin.
There are a million words that Buck could say, his mind a torrent of thoughts and doubts and joy and despair, but none of them are within reach. He sits there, saying nothing. In place of words, he surges forward, a hand snaking up to Eddie’s hair. He presses their mouths together, twisting the soft strands between his fingers. He is filled with the need to breath his love into Eddie, a reminder that it is not just pain that makes him alive.
God, he is alive.
When Eddie kisses back, it's as big a shock to the system as being struck by lightning. He thinks back to the man he'd been with, the one who could have been Eddie in a certain light. It is nothing compared to the real thing. His lips yield at first, letting Buck set the pace, before pushing back. Giving and giving and giving.
Buck whines, and flushes with embarrassment, but it makes Eddie bite his lip, drawing blood. He tastes himself, the tang of copper. Remembers licking Eddie's blood off of his lips. Even if it was years ago, he feels it now still within him, beating with his own blood.
Eddie pushes him down, settling his weight on top of Buck, never letting them lose contact. They kiss furiously, months of pent up guilt and anger and struggle spoken in the language of tongues and teeth and bruises. Eddie starts to trail kisses down Buck’s neck, a vampire seeking the pulse of a vein. When he bites down, Buck gasps in delight, the skin already darkening under Eddie’s ministrations. Buck rakes his nails down Eddie’s back, under his shirt, desperate to claw and mark and keep the cells of his skin beneath his nails for eternity.
Eddie stares down at him, breathing heavy. Buck craves him back on his mouth, on his neck, on his body. Eat me alive , he thinks. Carry me with you forever .
Buck pants, Eddie’s words still following him, chasing every touch and kiss. “It’s not your fault, Eddie. None of this is.”
“You think you still would have met her if we’d sorted our shit out months ago?” Eddie pushes himself up, eyes flicking between Buck’s eyes and his lips.
“Nobody knows what would have happened, okay? So don’t beat yourself up over a hypothetical situation.” Buck tries to pull Eddie back down, to feel the comforting weight of his body. He’d thought, after being crushed by a wall, that he would never want anything on top of him again. With Eddie, he feels grounded, no longer quite as adrift.
It hits him, all of sudden, that Eddie is really here. It’s Eddie’s hands that touch him and Eddie’s body that’s above him and Eddie’s heart that’s within his hands.
He hadn’t cried, after. He’d taken one look at Maddie’s face and known that he had to be okay for her sake. He hadn’t been able to cry for months, all feeling replaced with an absence. His soul had become a void. Now, he’s having emotional pins and needles, the prickle of feeling returning to his body after a prolonged period of numbness.
He feels the wave building within him, and he cries it out. The water yearns to be back with the sea, and with it all the debris. Her body gets swept away, leaving just the memories, the mental wounds that he didn’t know how to heal.
Eddie’s hand is a comforting weight on his head, fingers gently scratching his scalp. He thinks Eddie might be crying, too, the two of them holding each other, letting the wave carry them.
He'll remember this moment forever, he thinks. The quiet sound of his own sob against Eddie's shoulder. His tears stain the same place where he was shot, like his tears could heal his scars and erase the damage done. Eddie holds him tighter, the grip of someone who had let Buck go before and will never let go again. It is desperate, and uncomfortable, and they will never be close enough, but it is so much better than the emptiness before.
***
Buck wakes up with a pounding headache, the reassuring pain of having cried his eyes out the night before. For the first time in months, he didn't dream at all.
There's a weight across his chest, and he daren't open his eyes in case it is all a dream, some strange vision sent to drive him to madness. It would crush him, if this were not real.
When he opens his eyes, a familiar warm brown meets him. “Morning,” Eddie says. “Or should I say, afternoon.”
Eddie's thumb is rubbing across his hip, a soothing motion. Skin touching skin. The realization makes Buck's breath hitch. “You're still here.”
“It's my house,” Eddie smiles, the brittle smile of a person who knows their joy is fragile. “You can't get rid of me that easily.”
Despite the ache in his head and the pains in his chest - turns out, wracking yourself with sobbing is not conducive to healing broken ribs - he feels well rested. His head is clear. His heart is here with him, in this bed, in his hands.
Eddie’s face turns serious though, a hint of regret creeping in. “I do have to go back.”
“I know.” He suddenly remembers the woman who had answered Eddie’s phone, and feels a swell of guilt. “Oh god, you have a girlfriend.”
Eddie looks at him like he's grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”
“When I called the other day, a woman answered the phone. It wasn't any of your family.”
Eddie squints at him, until the solution he's looking for clicks into place. “Ah. That was my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Yeah. My parents have been suing me for custody of Christopher.”
It takes a second for the words to make sense in Buck's head. “What? Why? Why would they do that to you?”
“About three months ago, I got into a big fight with my parents. I had an accident at work- nothing big, before you start to worry. They, uh. They started asking questions, making a point about how dangerous my job is and what would happen to Christopher if anything happened.” Eddie glances at him, leaving Buck to fill in the blanks.
He nods in understanding. “They found out about the will.”
“Yeah. It's funny, actually. It was meant to be a surprise. We were just waiting on the final verdict, but I won. If it had been just one day earlier, I could have called you to say we're coming home.” It’s not funny at all. It’s devastating.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry your girlfriend tortured you and your sister, but can we talk about me and my problems more?’” Eddie snaps back. “Christopher really misses you.”
“I miss him, too.”
“You could… come with me? It’ll take us a couple of days to pack everything up. We can get you a clipboard, you can oversee our terrible packing skills.” Eddie looks at him, eyes full of tentative hope.
The thought is tempting. “Maybe a change of scenery will be good for my head. I can’t miss my therapy appointments, though, or Maddie will literally kill me.”
It feels good, to make a plan. To start thinking of the days ahead.
They get dressed, and facetime Christopher, who is full of questions and concern. Buck doesn’t have the energy to talk for long, starting to fade, though he tries his best to settle Chris’s mind and reassure him that he’s okay.
They agree to stay here for a few more days, give Buck some time to heal more and to attend his first appointment before making the drive out to El Paso.
He watches Eddie all day, thinking about the weight that both of them had been carrying alone to try and protect the other. “We’re really stupid,” he says out of nowhere, while Eddie washes some dishes.
When Eddie looks back at him, Buck notes the evidence of the last few months. His stubble has grown back, and there are new lines around his eyes. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, probably a matching pair with Buck’s own. The strain of their months of suffering won’t suddenly vanish because they love each other, because they are here together. It makes the load a little easier to bear, though.
“Maybe we should go to therapy together?” Eddie hedges, as though it’s been on his mind since last night.
“Couples therapy before we’re even a couple?” Buck jokes, but the idea lingers with him.
Eddie stiffens. “I thought- I guess we never actually talked about it.” He takes in a deep breath, and comes to hold Buck’s hands in his own, still wet and soapy from the dishwater. “Buck, I love you.”
“I love you, too. I want this- I really want this. Couples therapy and all.”
They kiss with none of the frenzy of the night before. Not because that pulsing need doesn’t still beat its way through Buck’s blood, but because Buck is determined to live long enough to have a thousand kisses with Eddie, each of them unique. This kiss is patient, and a little unsure. A question and an answer. Today, tomorrow, and the future.
***
Maddie ambushes him on a Thursday afternoon, the day before they’re set to drive to Texas. Eddie is supposed to be out grocery shopping, though Buck now knows that that must be a lie.
“Since when do you and Eddie talk to each other?” He asks her, as she settles at the dining room table.
Maddie glares at him, and he carefully places the coffee in front of her. “More often than you'd think. We both have an idiot in common.”
“Are you just here to shout at me again?”
“No, though I'd be well within my rights to. I just needed to see that you're okay.”
Buck softens, collapsing into the chair opposite her, wincing at the stabbing pain. “I'm fine. I'm bad, but I'm fine.”
“Eddie mentioned that you'd talked some things through. I thought that might have helped.”
“It does, but my mental health can't just rely on whether or not Eddie and Christopher are here.” He blinks as he feels the tears start to form again. A floodgate has opened within him that he doesn't know if he can close.
Sitting here now, in Eddie's kitchen, with Maddie looking at him, the despair feels further away. How empty he had been feeling for months, staying alive for the sake of being alive, but finding no joy from it.
“I want to be better. Not just for them, or for you, but for myself.” He hasn’t said the words out loud, but he needed to. They had been sitting there, bottled up since Eddie had returned.
He has a lot that he needs to do, a web of trauma to untangle and tackle, but he has the time to do it. Even if he doesn’t always have the will, or the energy. Buck is still in there, the Buck who never gives up. He will find him again.