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“Did you apologize?”
Eddie’s eyes move from the window back to Frank. The man is stoic as always, hands crossed over his lap, pen dangling from his fingers. He’s not writing yet, but he has that look on his face. The one that says that he’s about to. The look that makes Eddie feel like a bug under a microscope. It makes him itch.
“What do you mean?”
“You had the fight. You arranged travel for your son and your aunt. You brought them to the house, to your home, because you knew it would make Buck feel better. You called yourself, and I’m quoting here, a dick. But did you say the words?”
“What words?”
“I’m sorry, Eddie. Did you apologize to him for how you spoke to him? Or did you throw your son at him in hopes that it’d be enough and you could avoid the conversation?”
Eddie can’t find the words.
But Frank is right, isn’t he?
He didn’t apologize. He picked the fight, in hopes of— what? He didn’t want to hurt Buck, he never would, but he was tired of trying to find a way to make him open up. Buck was locked in his shame spiral, only looking inwards and fueling the fire in the pit of his stomach that told him he was all alone, never mind that he hadn’t been alone for years. Something broke, and Buck always moved back to old habits.
And Eddie understood. Really, he did. Buck had a lifetime of no support and always being made to feel like he was at fault. His feelings were constantly ignored. Of course he would retreat into himself again.
But Eddie was tired. He couldn’t reach Buck when he was like this, and he felt he had no room for his own emotions. He had all of this venom swirling inside and he knew that the way to break through would be through a fight. He hated it. He knew it would work.
If anything, Eddie felt further away from Buck now than when he was in Texas. They were living under the same roof and yet so out of sync. Buck’s body was there, but it was like his soul had checked out. And Eddie was angry, and tired, and hurting.
So, he snapped. He berated Buck about making it about himself, which— surely there was a better way of doing it than accusing him of theatrics. He knew Buck didn’t do it on purpose. He knew it was a trauma response. And yet, his pain was so stinging that he couldn’t help it. Look at me, he meant to say. I’m hurting and you’re not seeing it.
Buck backed down. Because of course he did. Not because he had fundamentally changed the way he reacted to bad news, but because he once again retreated into himself, tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible when he realized he was hurting someone he loved.
And wasn’t that a kick in the gut? Look at me, acknowledge my pain suddenly turned into please show me yours, too.
So what could he do? He could buy plane tickets for Chris and Pepa and pick them up at the airport. He could surprise Buck with them, watch him as all hurt evaporated from his face as he saw the boy he helped raise back in their home. He could make a self effacing joke to alleviate the tension.
But did he apologize?
Did Buck, ever?
After their last fight, Buck subletted his house. He gave him what he needed. But he didn’t apologize.
When Buck was being a pill after the ladder truck explosion, Eddie gave him Chris.
Even after the tsunami, Eddie’s solution was to give him Chris.
It hits Eddie like a truck right then.
They don’t talk. They are passive aggressive until one of them breaks. They fight, they are raw and emotional with each other with the excuse of the heat of the moment. They make a big gesture to apologize, but they never say the words.
They hide in their pain. Buck feels alone, isolated, like only he knows the pain he’s in. Eddie lashes out, guilt eating him alive, trying to make Buck understand.
Does Buck really not know? After all of these years, does he really still feel alone? Is Eddie not enough to lean on?
And what about Eddie? What about how he felt, so far removed, knowing he could have made a difference? Coming back to Buck in his own pain, not looking at Eddie but rather through him?
He knows he was unfair. He also knows that Buck is aware he was unfair, too. And yet they don’t talk, they don’t mention it. They fight, they either lash out or retreat into themselves, they make a gesture, back to normal.
But Frank is right. They can’t keep going like this.
The words.
Eddie isn’t sure there’s enough words that he could say to Buck to explain how sorry he is and how much he means to him. How he’s so glad he’s there, how he’s never felt so comfortable in his own skin. H he’s so grateful about how Buck easily slid into his life and handed Eddie the tools he needed to ease his burdens. How he’s never felt like he had an equal, a teammate, a partner that he could share responsibilities and a life with—
Oh.
More words, then.