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He should have seen it coming.
Every time he lets his guard down, a flare hits him hard as all fucking hell. And it’s not like life has exactly been treating him kindly these days. He’s been a depressed, grieving mess, now trapped in the same house as the man he conveniently forgot he was having an emotional crisis over and his son, who Buck has essentially helped co-parent for the last several years and has missed very, very dearly.
So yeah, he probably shouldn’t be so shocked when he wakes up in the bunks feeling like roadkill, his brain too foggy to form a single word.
“Buck?”
The voice is syrupy sweet.
“Oh, Buck, you do not look good —“
He tries to make a sound, any sound. A hand as gentle as the voice it belongs to presses against his forehead, palm-first.
“Yeah. You’re burning up. I’ll be right back, okay?”
The light coming in from the windows is oppressive, blinding to Buck’s sensitive eyes. Even moving his head throws waves of vertigo through him. He hears the sound of multiple footsteps thudding into the bunk room.
“He’s got a fever - I was going to see how high it is.”
“Buck?” Another voice, a soothing voice. A familiar, strong hand on his bare upper arm.
“Eddie,” he croaks out, trying in vain to reach out for him.
He feels cold metal being swiped across his forehead.
“101.8,” Ravi reads. “I’ll go get Ch — Cap.”
“No,” Buck rasps, and tries to get up, but Eddie pushes him back down on the bed.
“Stay there,” Eddie orders. “What are your other symptoms?”
Buck settles. He knows it’s a flare; that much is obvious. It came out of nowhere and he feels no congestion; no building sneezes or chesty coughs. Just the fever and the usual body aches, the exhaustion dragging him down like currents in a river.
“Head hurts,” he relents. That isn’t always the case. It looks like a migraine has decided to begin brewing behind his eyes.
“Buckarooooo.”
Ravi returns with Chim and Hen in tow, who carries her medic bag.
“Guys —“ Buck rasps.
Chim gets a hand on his forehead immediately and whistles. “How long you been feeling like crap?”
Buck sighs. “Don’t know.”
Chimney and Hen share a knowing glance.
“Buck,” Hen says gently, but in a way that let’s him know she’s not accepting any lies or cop-outs. “Did you come into work feeling sick?”
“Was just a lowgrade,” Buck admits. “I think I’m flaring.”
Chimney sighs. “Alright, what else is going on?”
“Headache and body aches,” Eddie answers for him.
“Any nausea?” Hen asks. “Have you had any tachycardia or episodes of pre-syncope?”
“Yeah,” Buck groans. “Some nausea and dizziness right before I turned in last night. Was definitely tachycardic.”
“That’s why you want to bed so early,” Eddie says.
Hen clips an oximeter onto his finger. “Okay, let’s get you sitting up and see how we’re doing this morning.”
Eddie puts a hand behind his neck, his other hand at Buck’s waist. Hen grips his shoulder — together they help him sit up. He does feel a little dizzy at first, glad they’re taking it slow.
Hen reads out his heartrate as the numbers flash at his fingertip, “123, 121, 119, 117, 114, 111, going down, that’s good.” She frowns, pressing a hand to his jaw. “You really aren’t feeling well, are you?”
Buck’s lips upturn into the slightest smile. “No,” he croaks. “But it could be worse.”
They wait until Buck’s heart rate has been at a steady 78 before standing up, and he groans as soon as they do, head spinning.
“You okay?” Eddie asks.
“Heart rate has jumped to 127,” Hen says. “Hold still. Lean on us.”
It goes up to 145 before starting to drop again. Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand when the dizziness increases and his stomach rolls dangerously.
“Do you need to sit down?” Eddie asks, but Buck shakes his head before he even finishes the question. He’ll be fine in a minute.
Unfortunately, standing all the way up has his head pounding. He winces a little, closing one of his eyes. All four of them —Eddie, Chim, Hen, and Ravi look at him expectantly.
“Buck?” Eddie prompts.
“Head is killing me,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
Buck hears multiple people sigh, and then Chimney speaks up.
“Alright — Eddie, why don’t you take Buck home? You, kid, are in no state to drive and you need rest in a real bed. I’ll see if anyone can come in early today.”
“Chim, I’m fine,” Buck argues. “I can just stay in the bunks — “
“Okay, if you’re really fine, then you can go home alone. Without your lover boy.”
Eddie blushes deeply, but chooses to ignore that. “Buck, come on. We’ve got six hours left here. Do you really wanna stay at the station?”
Another painful pulse shoots through his head, forcing Buck to answer honestly. “No,” he huffs.
“Okay,” Eddie says. “Then let’s go home.”
“Fine,” Buck whines out. He takes a deep breath and tears prick his eyes. “Thanks, Chim.”
“Don’t thank me. Just let Eddie take care of you. And stop being a horrible patient.”
Eddie and Hen support him all the way to Eddie’s car, while Ravi collects their duffels from the locker room. The sun is like a hot poker to Buck’s eyes, his head screaming in protest. As Eddie slides into the driver’s seat, he taps Buck’s knee. A pair of sunglasses are pressed into Buck’s palm. He gratefully puts them on before curling in on himself in the seat.
The ride home is a testament to Buck’s force of will. He feels like he’s going to pass out the entire time, caught between the racing heartbeat, the dizzying headache, the unrelenting nausea, and the fever heat.
It takes a very long time to get from the driveway to the front door, Buck having to stop several times to lean on Eddie for support, and once nearly puking in the bushes. By the time Eddie’s got him in the bed, he’s shaking head to toe and drenched in sweat.
“Buck,” Eddie says softly, frowning. His eyes are wide with worry.
He helps Buck out of his uniform in silence, trading his pants for athletic shorts and button up for a tee shirt.
“I’m cold,” Buck whines, and Eddie lets him put on a sweatshirt despite his rising temperature.
“Okay, lie down.”
Buck curls up on his right side, keeping his weight off his bad leg. The fevers always bring with them more pain — endless amounts of pain.
Eddie, aware of this, pulls the duvet over him carefully, bringing it over his shoulders. It’s lightweight. Should help with chills, but hopefully not make him roast immediately.
“Eddie,” he whispers; doesn’t really mean to, his voice is just weak.
“Yeah, Buck?”
“Thank you.”
“Sleep.”
.
The next time Buck wakes he’s startled by the sound of the front door closing, and the sound of two new voices. His eyes hurt when he opens them and he can’t even lift his head up. The next thing he can understand is the sight of Chris in front of him, then the touch of the kid’s fingers on his forehead.
“Dad said you’re having a flare. How are you feeling?”
“Not great,” Buck manages to croak out. “What do you think - do I still have a fever?”
“‘Fraid so,” Chris says with a hiss of air between his teeth. “We should check it. Open your mouth.” He brandishes the thermometer from the bathroom and all Buck can think is, your father’s taught you well.
He obliges of course, because Chris is the sweetest, gentlest fourteen year old nurse, and he knows that they should get a reading on it. He hears the steady beep of the thermometer and squints past the grogginess to read the screen when Chris shows him: 102.1
He sighs. There’s no real reason not to take more paracetamol so he forces himself to sit up somewhat and take a couple pills from the bottle Eddie left on the bedside table.
“Thank you, Chris, for checking on me. Where’s your dad?”
“He and Tía Pepa are making you soup.”
Buck can’t help but let a small grin twist his lips.
“What kind?”
“Pozole,” Chris answers.
“Mmm. My favorite.”
Buck shivers a bit too violently, and Chris frowns.
“Buck, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, though it doesn’t sound particularly convincing. “Just really tired. Soup’ll give me some strength.”
“Dad said he’ll bring you some when it’s ready.”
He places his hand on Buck’s forehead one more time, brushing some of the curls back. “Just yell if you need anything, okay?”
Buck almost wants to cry. He smiles wider, trying to keep it a happy smile for Chris’ sake. “I will, buddy. Thank you.”
Chris leaves the room, and Buck lets pain take over his expression. He bites back a groan. Just lifting his head takes energy he doesn’t have. He’s still in for a rough night.
He closes his eyes, and slips back into sleep without warning. His body aches even in his sleep, haunting him in his dreams, flashes of being on the job, or over at Maddie and Chim’s, or at the zoo with Chris, or god forbid, at Bobby and Athena’s old house, waiting for dinner, and the flare starts, engulfing him.
When he wakes up again, it’s dark outside. The sun has gone down. His vision is blurry and delayed, and he groans, feeling nauseated. He feels a cool hand on his forehead, and whimpers, retreating back to the pillows.
“Eddie?” he croaks.
“Hey, Buck,” he says quietly. “You’re really burning up. I’m gonna check your temp, okay?”
“Okay,” Buck mumbles.
As long as Eddie’s there, everything’s gonna be okay. He feels the nudge in his ear — the thermometer from Eddie’s first aid kit — and then several loud beeps.
“Almost a hundred and three,” Eddie hisses. “Let’s get some more paracetamol in you. And maybe some antihistamines. Fuck it.”
Buck hums. He still doesn’t feel ready to move. It doesn’t matter. Eddie puts one hand behind Buck’s neck and the other on his chest and helps him shift upward, so he can take the pills without choking.
Eddie’s jaw tightens, and his eyebrows go up in worry.
“This is a bad one.”
“It’s bad,” Buck agrees. But it could be worse. It can always get worse. It has, and it likely will.
Eddie lets the silence hang between them for a moment. It hasn’t been very long since the blowout in the kitchen. Or Buck’s scare in the high-rise. Not even to mention Buck putting in to transfer, or the things he said at Eddie’s goodbye party — a giant red flag that read: Buck is planning to isolate and shut himself away. Buck should not be left alone under any circumstances.
They’re still on edge.
“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asks at last.
Buck stares at him for a long moment. “I don’t know, Eddie.” He sounds miserable, so Eddie tries not to get irritated by the whine in his voice.
“I’m gonna get you some, okay? You need fluids, and sodium.”
“Okay,” Buck rasps.
Eddie exits the bedroom, and Buck listens to the sound of his footsteps throughout the house. He hears low voices, including Pepa’s, and he feels a little guilty worrying his family like this. He knows he’ll be fine; he always is somehow, even if every flare feels worse than the last. But the way everyone looks at him while he’s this sick — it makes him feel self-loathing in a way he’s never experienced before.
Buck is drifting when Eddie returns, soup in hand, and he smiles shyly as he sets the bowl down on the nightstand. Eddie helps Buck up into something that resembles a sitting position before he himself sits on the edge of the bed, and then takes the soup in hand.
“Eds-“
Eddie just keeps smiling and shakes his head. “No. Let me do this, okay? You can’t see how sick you are.”
Buck gives in. He supposes there’s some truth to that. His baseline is always sinking. He’s constantly adjusting to a new low.
He’s not sure he can do much besides this: opening his mouth and taking a careful spoonful of soup from Eddie, his throat announcing itself sore, his lymph nodes swollen. Eddie frowns in sympathy when Buck winces with each swallow.
After half the bowl, Buck turns away, pressing his lips together.
Eddie understands, and sets the bowl down on the nightstand.
“Sorry,” he croaks.
“Don’t - it’s okay,” Eddie says.
“I feel so bad,” Buck rushes out. He’s not sure if he means the guilt burning through him or the flare, or maybe both.
“Stay here,” Eddie says, and he slips quietly from the room.
When he returns, he holds the soft, fabric-wrapped ice pack Buck uses for migraines. Eddie must have wet it in cool water too, because it’s damp when he presses it to Buck’s forehead, eliciting a small groan from him.
“Better?” Eddie asks.
Buck hums in affirmation.
“Good,” Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry you feel like shit, Buck.”
“Mmm. You always help,” Buck slurs. “Thank you, Eddie.”
“Always,” Eddie promises.
.
Pain is the only thing he can register at first. The blinding, sickening pain that is currently radiating from the inside of his skull, from a pressure point right behind his left eye that has exploded into his body, leeching slowly like a poison.
The next thing that he can feel is the stormy chaos in his stomach. The pain that pulsates from his head sends waves of nausea slamming through him. Saliva floods his previously dry mouth, and Buck pulls himself over the edge of the bed, reaching blindly for the tiny trash can he keeps next to the nightstand. Which yes, mostly gets used for moments like this.
He just manages to get it to his chin, awkwardly hunched over right before he begins to vomit violently. The sound of it wakes Eddie, who takes it in stride, and immediately begins to rub Buck’s back.
“It’s okay,” he soothes. “Just let it out, baby.”
Tears burn his cheeks as Buck heaves several more times, the last few coming up mostly dry. He spits into the trash can with a shudder, and nearly collapses.
“Hey, hey, hey - Buck!”
Eddie swiftly grabs the trash can with one hand and catches Buck by the shoulder with the other, preventing him from face-planting over the edge of the bed. Eddie eases Buck back, helps him relax against the pillows again. Buck closes his eyes, then regrets the way it makes him feel dizzy, and opens them again.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Migraine?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” Buck rasps.
Eddie nods. “I’ll get your meds.”
Buck moans as Eddie leaves the bed. Every sound, every slight movement hurts. Buck barely hangs on, relieved when Eddie comes back with two pills. The first one he presses into Buck’s hand.
“Odansetron,” Eddie whispers.
Buck lets it dissolve on his tongue. Eddie presses the second pill into his hand, a little bigger than the first.
“I got you some fresh water,” Eddie says quietly, and he gives Buck a cold water bottle, already opened. Buck takes the pill and sips the water carefully.
As Buck waits for the medicine to kick in, Eddie stays perched next to him. He brings a soothing, gentle hand to Buck’s forehead, feeling his temperature.
A small gasp escapes him.
“You’re on fire, Evan.”
Buck hears the sound of the thermometer sliding off the bedside table, and he braces himself. The cool tip slides into his ear, and — the endless series of beeps drives pain directly through his skull.
“103.4,” Eddie reads aloud. “Mierda.”
His head pounds viciously; is the fever really that high? Eddie disappears again, only to reappear before Buck can open his mouth. He comes bearing another ice pack, and he switches it out with the one that’s melted. Eddie carefully drapes it over his forehead, and Buck shudders.
“God,” Buck groans.
As he lies there, shivering horribly, Buck realizes it’s still pitch black outside. It must be early, early morning. No later than four.
“S’early,” he slurs. “M’sorry, Eddie. You should be ‘sleep.”
“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says quickly, voice soft and sweet. “Always means always. No matter what time of day. Family takes care of each other, Buck.”
“Still,” he croaks. “I know it’s —“ Buck breaks off, swallowing hard and grimacing when it hurts his sore throat. “ — It can be a lot. I can be a lot.”
“I don’t care,” Eddie says easily. “I want to take care of you.”
Tears flood Buck’s lash line. He hates the way fevers make him so emotional. Especially now that he gets them so frequently.
“I hate this, Eds. Don’t wanna be useless. I - it feels like I’m making it about me without even meaning to.”
Eddie winces.
“Evan,” he sighs heavily, then rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t - I don’t want you to feel like that, okay? That - that this is some sort of burden on me or anyone else. We love you. We’re going to take care of you. And you should make it about you, because it is. I —“
Eddie stops himself.
He grabs one of Buck’s hands and holds it in both of his, rubbing one of his thumbs back and forth across Buck’s palm.
“I need you to make this more about you, because right now you are constantly downplaying how much pain you’re in, and it’s not good for you. The only way you’ll ever start feeling any better is if you admit to us the second you start feeling bad. So screw whatever the hell I’ve said in the past. Fuck past me, okay?”
Buck manages a shaky, watery smile at that.
“Let us take care of you,” Eddie pleads.
“Okay,” Buck whispers. “Okay.”
.
Eddie wakes up with the sun, and his anxiety floods him immediately, wasting no time. The house is quiet; Chris is definitely still asleep, and Buck is snoring next to him. Eddie props himself up on one elbow and gets a good look at Buck.
He’s still sweaty, loose curls clinging to his forehead as he sleeps. His cheeks remain flushed with fever, but other than that he’s pale and colorless. The sound of his snores lets Eddie know his tonsils are still swollen, his immune system in overdrive fighting itself. As gently as he can, Eddie presses the backs of his fingers to Buck’s forehead. He’s still hot, just not as hot as a few hours ago.
Eddie pushes himself up all the way with a small sigh. Since Buck woke up in the bunks with this fever, he’s felt guilty as hell. He can’t help but feel like he pushed Buck to this point.
It’s been so obvious that Buck’s been holding everything inside, shoving it deep and keeping it there so that he could focus his efforts on trying to be there for everyone else. Even when Eddie tried to pull him out, tried to get him to just drop the act and talk, he said the wrong thing - accused Buck of being self-centered and uncaring when he knew all Buck wanted to do was help him.
You never asked me what it was like.
He realizes now he never asked Buck, either.
And Buck hasn’t offered any details, because he hasn’t talked about it. He’s only talked about everyone else’s feelings. The only time he mentioned his own was —
Sorry I’m sad Bobby’s dead.
Eddie feels like such an asshole.
He looks back at Buck’s sleeping form — his eyes dark and sunken; he knows Buck hasn’t been getting enough sleep. Not for weeks now. He’d heard a few of the times Buck had kept himself up, sobbing late hours into the night. Eddie wasn’t lying when he said that Buck was spiraling, that they can all see it, that no one knows what to do, and he’d failed spectacularly to do anything himself. He wanted so badly to get through the goddamn wall Evan Buckley keeps built around himself, but instead Eddie just made him build it thicker and higher.
“Oh, Buck,” Eddie whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
He brushes a few damp curls back, biting his lip.
“I’m sorry I got so angry. I just — I kind of suck at telling you I’m worried about you.”
He continues moving his thumb back and forth across Buck’s temple, watching him breathe. If he could will Buck back to a better state, he would. If he could take Buck’s sorrow, if he could grieve for him, if he could undo every horrible thing he said — he’d do whatever it took. He just wants to see Buck happy again, not drowning in his own pain.
Eddie stays like that for a while, trying to come up with some sort of plan, some sort of foolproof way to guarantee that Buck will stop holding his broken pieces together alone, that he’ll start being totally honest with everyone about how he feels, but Eddie comes up with nothing. Instead, he decides it’s time to let Buck rest, and he gets up to make himself coffee.
Eddie tries not to ruminate over his actions the last few weeks as he busies himself making a pot of coffee. When it’s ready, and he’s pouring himself his first cup, he hears Chris wake up and use the bathroom. He comes into the kitchen next, no doubt looking for breakfast.
“Good morning, Dad.”
“Good morning, mijo,” Eddie echoes, and he’s surprised by how tired he sounds.
“Buck still asleep?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “And I don’t know when he’ll be up next. He was up a few hours ago puking his guts out. He’s fighting a pretty bad migraine, and he’s still got a high fever.”
Chris frowns. “He’s really sick.”
Eddie sighs, not wanting to lie to his son. Never again. Not even a white lie.
“He is. He’ll be okay. It’s just - Buck’s been through a lot lately, and now his body is taking it out on itself. Bobby’s death has hit him really hard.”
“Because Bobby was like a dad to Buck?”
Eddie feels his stomach bottom out. Sometimes he forgets how old Chris is getting. He’s always been perceptive. And, Eddie? Well, Eddie hadn’t even considered that part of Buck’s relationship with Bobby.
“Yeah, mijo,” he says. “I bet this is extra hard for him because of that.”
Chris sits down at the table, thinking for a moment. “I’d be really sad if I lost Buck,” he says, and it hits Eddie like a freight train.
Buck is like another father to Chris. Bobby died from a horrible illness. Buck is currently lying in bed sick, sicker than Chris has seen him in years.
“Buck’s gonna be okay,” Eddie says.
“I know,” Chris says quietly. “I’m just worried about him.”
Eddie gives him a sad smile, then lays a hand on the back of his neck.
“Me too, mijo.” He leans and gives him a quick kiss on the forehead, not daring to linger too long. Chris is a teenager after all. “Me too.”
.
By the time Eddie has dropped Chris off at school and returned home, Buck is still sleeping soundly in their room. When Eddie presses the back of his hand to Buck’s forehead he finds it just as hot as when he first woke up, if not worse. He sighs, feeling on edge.
He pulls away, and to his surprise, Buck gives a small whine. One of his hands reaches out.
“Eddie?” he croaks.
“Hey, Buck,” he says softly.
Buck swallows hard, then winces.
“Don’ feel good.”
“I know you don’t,” Eddie says, smoothing his fingers through Buck’s curls. “Do you think you can take some more paracetamol? Then you can keep sleeping.”
“Mmm,” Buck hums. “Okay.”
Carefully, Eddie helps him sit up a little. He hands Buck two pills and some water and Buck swallows them with a grimace.
“Does your head feel any better?”
“Yeah,” Buck rasps. “Less like an axe in the skull.”
Eddie continues to thread his fingers through Buck’s fever-damp hair. “Good,” he says. Buck’s eyes flutter shut. He lets out a soft, semi-satisfied moan. “You can go back to sleep.”
Buck opens one eye, peering up at him. “Don’t leave?”
Eddie freezes, hand at Buck’s head.
“I mean — “ Buck starts. “I just — “ his eyes fill with tears. “Sorry, I don’t —“
“Hey,” Eddie says quickly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Hey, hey — it’s okay, Buck. I’m right here. I’ll stay.”
Buck sniffles, trying to blink the tears away.
“You can cry if you need to,” Eddie continues. “But don’t feel bad for asking me to stay. I’m here for you, Buck.”
Bucks nods.
“I’m tired.”
“Then sleep,” Eddie encourages. “I won’t go anywhere, querido.”
“Promise?” Buck mumbles sleepily.
“Promise,” Eddie echoes.
He remains smoothing his fingers through Buck’s scalp until he falls back into a fitful doze, snores grating against his throat.
Eddie’s hopeful that Buck will be able to rest for most of the day, but it’s only an hour before he’s up again, waking with a groan and a shallow cough. Groggy and confused, he tries to sit up before he even registers that Eddie is sitting on the bed next to him, and he lists sideways.
“Buck—?”
“Nnnngh.”
“Buck, you okay?”
“Gotta — bathroom. Mmm. Dizzy.”
“Okay — easy, I got you.”
Eddie grabs Buck by the shoulders and helps him upright.
“Your heart?”
Buck doesn’t say anything, so Eddie presses two fingers to Buck’s carotid artery, feeling the quick pace of his pulse.
“Give yourself a second to adjust,” he soothes.
After a minute, Buck tries to move again, wiggling forward until his feet touch the floor. Eddie swings himself around the bed until he himself can get up, supporting Buck as he gets to his feet. They still for a moment, and when Buck is sure he won’t pass out, they make the trek to the bathroom.
Just that small amount of walking is enough to tire Buck out, and he collapses to the toilet to pee. Eddie frowns, pressing his fingers to Buck’s forehead.
“Your fever’s still high,” he mutters, like he doesn’t even want to say it.
Buck leans into the touch.
“Don’ think the paracetamol is working, Eddie,” he sighs. “Feel worse than earlier.”
Eddie watches helplessly as Buck stands up to wash his hands. However, before he’s even turned to the water on, Buck is suddenly pitching forward and vomiting what little water he’d sipped that morning into the sink, body shaking. Eddie manages to get one hand on his back, another on his upper arm. Buck heaves one last time with a wrecked cough and spits mucus down the drain.
“S-s-sorry,” he says shakily. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“Don’t apologize,” Eddie says gently. “Are you done?”
Buck nods weakly.
“Alright, then let’s get you back to bed.”
Every ounce of strength has been wrested from Buck once he manages to crawl back into bed. In its absence, his body trembles uncontrollably, desperate for relief. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open long enough to watch Eddie tuck him in.
.
For the next two days, Buck manages to survive on what little he can choke down - water, leftover pozole, a few slices of toast, a banana. And by some miracle, Eddie, using a combination of ice packs, Tylenol and antihistamines, brings his temperature slowly back down. When they wake for their next shift, Buck is still achy and tired, but the thermometer is ringing in at 100.3, and he’s just relieved not to be in the fever zone.
Eddie, of course, is a little bit more worried.
“I don’t know, Buck. It’s still over a hundred —“
“Which is the lowest it’s been in days, Eddie. It’s not even a fever.”
Eddie chews on his lip. “It’s still a lowgrade.”
“I’m doing so much better.”
It’s hard for Eddie to argue otherwise. Buck got up first this morning. He made Eddie coffee and helped Christopher get ready to be picked up by a friend’s parent for school. Eddie just really, really doesn’t want Buck to push himself too hard. But he also doesn’t want Buck to feel like Eddie doubts his abilities to take care of himself. That’s what had them fighting in this very kitchen the last time.
“You sure?” he asks, because he can’t help himself.
Buck nods. “Come on - if we don’t leave now we’ll be late. And I don’t need anymore ribbing from Chim, do you?”
Eddie laughs, though it’s a little guarded. “No, no - let’s go.”
Buck drives them to the station with no complaints. He even sings along to some of the songs on the radio. They get to work ahead of schedule, and Buck gives Eddie a timid smile before they head inside.
Hen and Chim are gracious enough to let Buck and Eddie get ready before bombarding them with questions about Buck’s health. However, Ravi, too nervous to wait, peaks his head inside the locker room as Buck pulls his LAFD tee over his head.
“Hey, Ravi,” he says, sounding like his usual cheerful self. He can hear the tired edge, but he doubts Ravi can. He tucks in his shirt.
“Hey, uh - how - how are you doing?” Ravi asks, straightening up.
Buck bends down to tie the laces on his boots. “A lot better than I was last shift, I’ll tell you that.” He slaps his thighs before he stands up with a smile. He claps Ravi’s shoulder as he walks past him, Eddie at his heels.
Predictably, Hen and Chim have eyes on him as soon as he enters the loft. Both of them stand at the kitchen island with cups of coffee.
“Good morning,” Buck greets happily.
“Morning,” Hen says, eyes narrowing. She leans to Chim and says quietly, “Does he look pale to you?”
Chim snaps his gum. “I think he looks flushed.”
Before Buck can stop him, Chimney has a hand on his forehead, tutting as he moves to his cheek. “You’re warm.”
“It’s a lowgrade,” Buck says defensively, at the same time Eddie says, “Don’t even try to argue with him.”
“You and the damn lowgrades,” Hen says, playfully slapping his shoulder.
“Ow - hey, don’t slap me,” Buck whines in return.
“Buck,” Chim says warningly. “Do I need to make you man behind?”
“Honestly, I feel okay right now,” Buck says. “My temp was 100.3 when we left, and I’m just a little tired. A little bit achy. But nothing like the past few days. Right, Eddie?”
Eddie purses his lips, but nods. “Yeah. You do seem mostly back to yourself. Still don’t like how high your temp is.”
“Technically not a fever,” Buck reminds him.
“He’s right,” Hen sighs. “But,” she adds pointedly. “We have to have a limit, Buck. We keep an eye on it. You tell us if you start feeling too bad. We work with you. Okay?”
Buck nods, overeager.
For most of the day, they fall into an easy rhythm. Simple medical calls followed by an hour or two of down time. Chim has him on strict orders to “rest” when they’re at the station, so he busies himself mostly by cooking them lunch and dinner, which Chim argues isn’t rest, but Buck argues isn’t chores or working out, so chopping vegetables and boiling pasta wins.
However, they’ve barely sat down to enjoy Buck’s bolognese before they’re called out to a pileup. It’s a wreckage of a total of sixteen cars, and an empty semi trailer. Two were already dead on arrival, and another ten victims have to be extracted. A total of three engine fires have to be put out, and one gas tank explosion manages to add to the fun.
It takes hours to get everyone off to the hospital, either in body bags or ambulances, and even longer to clear the wreckage. So Buck listens when Chim orders him to do the easier tasks like manning the engine or sitting with a little girl while her mother is triaged for a broken collarbone.
Still, by the time they’re wrapping up, Buck is unsteady on his feet. His head pounds inside his skull. He realizes almost too late that he’s going to be sick, and falls to his knees right next to the truck, vomit spewing between his lips and onto the ground.
Of course, it’s Eddie who comes up behind him, cool fingers at his neck, asking, “Buck? Buck, can you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Buck coughs. “Yeah, I just - “ he shudders, then spits out thick saliva. “Got really nauseous for a second.”
“Okay, let’s get you some electrolytes, yeah? That sound good?”
Buck nods slowly, his stomach still twisting in knots. He can feel Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, hear him talking to someone else, but can’t really register anything else. His ears are ringing loudly.
“Buck?” comes Eddie’s voice again. “Do you think you could stand up?”
“Um —“ Buck considers it for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, straightening up a little. “Yeah, give me a hand?”
Eddie keeps his one hand on Buck’s shoulder and offers the other to him to grab. Buck puts his hand in Eddie’s and Eddie easily lifts him to his feet, taking some of his weight initially.
“Hey, hey —“ Eddie says, trying to get a good look at his eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Buck says, voice weak.
“Okay - Engine. Now. Sit. Liquids.”
Without further explanation, Eddie helps him into the truck — their usual seats, and hands Buck a bottle of Gatorade.
“Slow sips,” Eddie tells him.
Eddie’s hand finds his forehead again, very briefly, and then Buck feels the cool swipe of the medic thermometer.
“Hundred and three, Buck,” Eddie sighs. “Chim is definitely sending you home.”
Buck stares up at him through wet lashes, shivering. “I didn’t even feel b-bad. Not til I threw up.”
“Adrenaline,” Eddie says with a shrug. “The second you started letting it go, everything else came crashing in.”
Buck hangs his head with a pitiful groan.
“Hang in there,” Eddie says, patting his knee. “Here comes Cap.”
He drops out the door of the engine, and Buck closes his eyes, resting his head against the seat. He can hear snippets of the conversation they’re having about him.
“..vomited a few times..”
“..with a fever that high..”
“..seems really fatigued..”
“..sorry, Eddie..”
.
When they all enter the engine, Buck is asleep. Eddie carefully buckles him in and everyone else silently gets themselves situated. Hen looks over at him with a pout.
“Poor thing. He cannot catch a break.”
“He really was doing better this morning,” Eddie sighs, sitting back in his own seat. “Got Chris up and everything. Think he just pushes himself too hard the moment he starts feeling better.”
Chim looks over his shoulder from the captain’s seat. “Well, that’s our Buck, isn’t it? Never quite learned how to pace himself.”
“This is a pretty bad flareup,” Hen voices, and Eddie nods, but doesn’t take his eyes off Buck.
“It is and it isn’t,” Eddie says, and that makes everyone look at him up with confusion.
“What do you mean?” Ravi asks quietly.
“I mean he’s had worse,” Eddie says. “And I know this is just the tip the iceberg.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “Before Bobby died, they’d been getting more frequent and - and more severe, I know. Buck didn’t really say how bad, but I could tell. Ever since I left - he just, he started looking sicker. Seemed like he spent a lot of his time at home.”
“Yeah,” Hen sighs. “I know what you mean. It’s like he started losing life little by little.”
“He didn’t seem like his usual self. Tired, cranky. Disappeared to the bunks a lot,” Ravi adds.
“I think he’s just been getting worse for a while now,” Eddie sighs.
When they make it back to the station, Eddie carefully rouses Buck — who blinks heavily at him with his face pinched.
“Come on,” Eddie says gently. “Let’s get you into the showers and cleaned up.”
Buck moans. “Everything hurts,” he grits out.
“That’s because you have another raging fever,” Eddie reminds him. “And we just finished a five-hour rescue. Come on. The shower will help with your sore muscles.”
Buck leans forward, hesitant to stand up.
“Hey, I got you, Buck,” Eddie says firmly, backing out of the truck first, ready to support him. “Take it slow.”
He listens, pushing himself to his feet with caution. The world spins a little dangerously, but his heart rate doesn’t skyrocket, so he creeps forward, reaching out to grab Eddie’s forearms. Eddie grabs him back, supporting most of his weight as he clumsily exits the truck.
Eddie brings him to the locker room first, where he eases Buck out of his turnout coat and helps him strip all the way down. Eddie quickly undresses himself too and leads them to the showers, where he turns the water up enough to steam, but hopefully not hot enough to make Buck’s fever worse. Buck can only stand there for a few minutes before he’s leaning against the tiled wall with a quiet groan.
“Okay, okay, sit down —“
Eddie helps Buck down to the floor, where he sits cross-legged with his head hung forward and closes his eyes, just enjoying the spray of the water. As it turns out, Eddie is right. The heat is helping ease some of the ache in his muscles, and he’s starting to feel the exhaustion creeping in.
At some point, Eddie washes his hair for him, and then helps him get up to wash his body. Buck is sluggish and detached, feeling his consciousness ready to leave him at any moment. Eventually, Eddie’s got them back in the locker room, towel wrapped around Buck. Somehow, Buck manages to get his own underwear on, and his sweatpants halfway up, and then he has to give up and sit down, far too tired to continue. Eddie helps then, getting him in a tee and a pair of socks and his shoes too.
“I booked you an Uber,” Eddie says quietly, and Buck squints, actually looking at him. He realizes Eddie’s in his uniform.
“You’re not coming?” Buck asks, a slight whine to his raspy voice.
Eddie pouts, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Chim can’t spare me too. We’re sorry. I’ve already talked to Pepa. She’s waiting for you at the house. Chris is asleep.”
Buck hums. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“Did you wake her up?”
Eddie snorts out a laugh. “No. You know how she likes to stay up late watching telenovelas on Friday nights.”
Buck tries to smile, but he’s not sure if he does.
“Thank you, Eddie,” he croaks.
“Of course,” Eddie says, squeezing him a little. “Hang tight. I’m gonna get you some paracetamol, okay?”
Buck hums his affirmation, burying his face in his hands, hunched over on the bench. He feels fucking awful. He knows the fever is bad because his bones feel like they’re roasting. Every inch of him aches. He’s shaking, his muscles fatigued, overcome with chills.
When Eddie returns, he sits down next to Buck and begins rubbing his back, feeling the heat of his fever radiating off of him.
“Hey.”
Buck peels his face from his hands. Eddie gives him one look and frowns.
“Oh, Buck, you look terrible.”
He closes his eyes again, humming low in his throat. “Mmm. Feel terrible.”
“Here. Take these.”
Eddie opens a bottle of Tylenol and taps out two pills into Buck’s trembling hand. Buck quickly slaps them into his mouth, and follows them with a sip of water from the bottle Eddie gives him. He hands the water bottle back once he’s finished, unable to control how badly he’s shaking.
“Buck, maybe we should send you to the hospital —“
As soon as he says it, Buck is gripping his forearm, tight. “No,” he chokes out. “I just need to sleep.”
Eddie goes silent for a moment, weighing their options. “Okay, but if you’re still this bad when I’m off shift tomorrow, we’re going to reconsider.”
“Fine,” Buck mumbles, releasing his grip on Eddie’s arm. “But there’s nothing they can do anyway.”
Eddie sighs, and glances down at his phone. “Okay. Do you think you can get up? The Uber’s almost here.”
“You’ll help me?” Buck all but slurs.
Eddie nods. “Of course.” He offers out both his hands.
Buck grabs them, and Eddie helps him pull himself up. He immediately feels heart palpitations and leans into Eddie, who is more than prepared.
“Easy, I got you,” he says, taking Buck’s weight. “Do you need to sit back down?”
“N-no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just give me a sec —“
Buck breathes steadily for a minute, waiting until the world stops spinning violently and his heartrate comes back down.
“Okay. Okay.”
Eddie helps him all the way to the SUV outside and guides him into the backseat. Someone else has already put Buck’s duffel in the seat next to him.
“Alright. Get some rest, Buck. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Buck pouts. “Thanks, Eddie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Eddie ducks his head so he can make eye contact with the driver.
“Thank you so much, man. Means a lot.”
“‘Course. Hey, what’d you say your tía’s name was again?”
“Pepa,” Eddie says.
“Tía Pepa. Got it. I’ll get your boy to her.”
Eddie blushes deeply but smiles all the same.
“Thanks again.”
Buck feels weirdly overwhelmed by the kindness of this stranger, who looks intently in the mirror as he pulls away from the station and says, “There’s a water bottle in the cup holder next to you. Is there anything else I can get you?”
Buck blinks slowly. “No,” he says, voice crackling. “No, thanks, though.”
“Alright — just lemme know.”
Almost instantly, the ride lulls Buck into an uneasy sleep. His body still vaguely takes in the movement of the car, and he feels like he’s floating on mostly peaceful waters.
Barely a moment of this dream passes before the car is pulling to a stop, and the driver is waking Buck.
“There you go, man. Time to get up. We already got your bag inside.”
He helps Buck out of the seat, and suddenly Pepa is there, one hand on his back, another on his chest— then it’s gone and he feels her cool fingers on his forehead.
“Oh, Evancito,” she hisses, and clicks her tongue. “You are burning.”
She withdraws her hand and he can’t help it; he whimpers.
“I know, cariño,” she says. “Let’s go inside. You need to be in bed.”
She guides him gently to the house and through the front door. He stumbles out of his shoes, almost falling over.
“Careful,” she says, steadying him.
As they head down the hall toward the bedroom, a wave of nausea washes over him. He swallows thickly.
“Pepa,” he gasps.
“Yes, cariño?”
He pulls himself past the door of the bedroom, and heads for the bathroom, one of his hands clamped over his mouth. Pepa understands the message and steers him straight for the toilet. He falls to his knees and heaves horribly, his stomach expelling nothing but bile and acid.
“Let it out, let it out,” Pepa says, rubbing his back.
Buck coughs, and more heaves follow, pressing tears from his eyes and snot from his nose.
“It’s okay,” Pepa soothes. “It’s okay, querido.”
Buck is left gasping when he finishes, body shaking from the exertion. Pepa grabs some toilet paper off the roll and gently wipes his face for him. He turns his eyes down, filling with shame despite himself.
“Hey,” Pepa says, seeing it immediately. “None of that. You are family, Evancito. This is how family cares for each other.”
“Thank you, Pepa,” he croaks, swallowing again.
“Another thing,” Pepa says, softly. “You don’t have to thank me. Now, are you ready to stand up?”
He nods, muscles shaking as he gets to his knees, takes Pepa’s hand, and then stumbles to his feet. He falls into the bathroom vanity and waits for his vision to stop blacking out before they continue, slow, careful steps to the bedroom.
Buck’s fading before he’s even fully under the covers. Pepa pulls them up to his chin, then smoothes her hand across his sweaty forehead.
“Sleep, querido. You need it.”
He closes his eyes, and then he’s out.
.
Ever since the lab, Buck has been having nightmares.
He hasn’t told anyone but there’s a less than zero chance that Eddie or Chris has figured it out by now, since they sleep in the same house.
Incidentally, the nightmares work quite well with the fevers to bring this torment to the next level. Now his fever dreams all look the same: he’s back in that horrible place, and this time he’s on the other side of the glass. In this version of events, it’s his mask that cracks and breaks in the explosion, and when Bobby discovers the hole in his tube, he can’t hide it from Buck. He can’t hide the symptoms from Buck either, who forces him to take the cure. Buck’s already sick. Buck was sick when they walked into this lab. He was living on borrowed time, continuously putting off the inevitable. It just made sense. Bobby was building a house with his wife. Buck was no longer allowed to work any double shifts.
Buck was already sick.
Why did Bobby have to die?
Buck sees himself on the floor of the lab, a weak but recovering Bobby holding him as the fever burns too hot. Blood trickles in a stream from both nostrils and Buck coughs, coughs just like he did when he had the embolism, and the blood spills from between his lips —
“Buck?”
He coughs, desperate for air. Soaked. Drenched, in his own sweat.
“Oh, honey, you’re boiling. Wake up.”
He whimpers, overwhelmed by fever and pain.
“Buck, honey?”
He tries so hard to peel his eyes open, to say something coherent, but he doesn’t really know if he’s asleep or awake, alive or dead.
“Buck, can you hear me, baby?”
He hears her voice, and it’s like something restarts in him. Instead of saying, “Yes,” his innermost thoughts come spilling out.
“Itshould’vebeenme.”
“What was that? Buck?”
He feels her cool hand on his cheek.
“It should’ve been me,” he croaks.
“Buck —“
He interrupts her, coughing again, unexpectedly deep and rough. Athena quickly helps him half-sit up, and guides a glass of water to his mouth.
“Drink. You’re dehydrated.”
Buck drinks, sucking the cold liquid down carefully. His throat aches, glands swollen.
“It should’ve been me,” he gasps again.
“I was already sick, Athena. Why? Why wasn’t it me?”
A cool, wet cloth dabs at his temples.
“Sshhh,” Athena soothes. “Don’t do this to yourself, Evan Buckley.”
His tears are hot as they slide down his cheeks. “Why not?” he sobs. “B-Bobby had everything to live for. So did Chimney. So did Hen. So did Ravi. But I - look at me. If it had been me, there would’ve been no choice. I’m — I’m already so sick —“
Buck dissolves into more sobs, unable to speak.
Athena simply wraps her arms around him, pulling him close.
He feels bad.
Eddie was right.
In fact, Eddie was more than right to yell at him in the kitchen. He’s been a mess for a long time now. He knows he hasn’t properly dealt with a thing; hasn’t really processed any of it, and that’s why his body is raging a war against him right now.
There aren’t going to be anymore days where Buck can show up to work in the midst of a flare or be surprised by one on shift and his captain will dote on him and make him his favorite soup.
More and more, Buck’s been thinking about calling it quits. Not just with work, but —
He hates it, but he can’t help it. Bobby said what he said because he always understood like no one else. He knew Buck would try to follow him, because why not? What great life does Buck have here? Where he’s stuck sick and alone while life moves on without him? Without them?
“‘Thena, I’m so tired,” Buck croaks, breathless.
And they both know what he really means.
Still, Athena says, “Can you stay awake just awhile longer, honey? You should really take some more Tylenol.”
Buck nods.
The motion makes him realize he’s on the edge of another migraine too.
“The tablets,” he pleads. “On the nightstand. There’s two. I need both.”
“I got you, baby,” Athena assures him. She collects and deposits pills into his shaky palm. He quickly throws them into his mouth and she helps him sip more water to swallow them down.
As his eyes slip shut again, Athena helps him fall back against the pillows. She freshens the cool cloth and drapes it over his heated forehead. His shivers worsen when it makes contact, and he groans.
“Shhh,” Athena soothes. “You’ll feel better once your fever’s down.”
Buck doesn’t think he has it in him, but a wave of fresh tears wells up in his eyes, though he doesn’t open them again. “Thank you,” he rasps out.
Exactly four hours later, Buck is being woken up again. The sun light coming through the windows seems far too bright, and it hurts his eyes. He tries to squeeze them shut, but whoever woke him to begin with pats his cheek.
“Stay awake, honey. I need you to take some more medicine.”
“Athena?” Buck croaks.
He starts to fight against the grogginess.
“Yes, Buck, it’s me.”
She places a gentle hand on his jaw, and he realizes the cool cloth is still on his forehead, and still kind of cold. She must have stayed at his bedside, replacing it every so often.
“Mmm,” he hums. “Wasn’t sure if you were real earlier.”
Athena rubs her thumb back and forth across his cheekbone. “I’m very real, and I’m right here.”
Buck wants to smile, but he’s not sure if his lips will listen to his brain. “Thank you for being here,” he rasps before coughing.
“Well, some very lovely people said you were very sick and on your own, and I couldn’t let that be.”
“It means a lot,” Buck croaks, more tears creeping up on him.
Athena frowns. “Oh, honey. This fever’s really got a hold on you.” She smooths his curls back, watching his emotions spill from him.
“Yeah,” Buck sighs, then hiccups. “But I’ll be fine.” If he thinks about it, the fever never really goes away. He just manages to beat it back for bits and bits of time.
“At least take some more acetaminophen,” Athena says. “I don’t like how high it is — we need to try to get it down.” She grabs the two pills she had already tapped out from the nightstand and hands them to Buck. He swallows them with a sip of water and a shudder.
Athena peels the wet cloth from his forehead, and takes it to the bathroom. When she returns, it’s freshly cold, and she lies it back across his heated skin.
“There you go,” she says gently. “I also know the pills don’t always work.”
Buck feels his stomach clench at that; Athena hasn’t cared for him much through these flareups, but Bobby had. He knew exactly how much Buck had been struggling to treat his autoimmune symptoms — the fevers especially. Buck sniffles.
“I miss him,” he croaks out, barely audible.
Athena frowns, pressing her lips together. Her eyes meet Buck’s and she nods. “I know, honey,” she says, voice cracking. “I do too.”
“Ev - everything feels so pointless,” Buck gasps. “I fought so hard for this family, and it - “ Buck breaks off to cough, ending with a frustrated whine low in his throat. “I don’t know why I’m fighting anymore, Athena. ‘S never gonna be the same.”
“Buck —“
“You know,” he continues, voice wrecked. “We don’t even eat together anymore. We barely talk. The station feels empty. I — I feel empty, Athena, and — and — why am I trying so hard? I’m tired. And — and everything just keeps getting worse.”
“Buck, honey —“
“I don’t want to keep fighting this illness. I want to let it win.”
A stuttered inhale escapes Athena, and she blinks back tears.
“Evan Buckley,” she says sternly, her hand on his cheek. “You have been fighting like hell since you woke up from that coma. You have done everything you can to better your health, but you have never, ever been expected to do this on your own. And I know you’ve lost one of your biggest champions, but the rest of us are still here. The rest of us still want to take care of you. Don’t give up on us, son.”
Buck’s lips quiver as he holds back sobs he’s too tired to let go. “Athena, I can’t —“
“Bobby didn’t let us save him. Bobby didn’t even let us try. Are you going to do the same?”
Buck feels the dam in his throat give way and a gasping sob escapes him. “What if you can’t? What if there’s nothing to do but watch me die too, just slower?”
“Did I leave Bobby?” Athena asks, wiping the tears from Buck’s face. “No. I stayed with him til the end, Buck. No one’s leaving you.”
“Bobby did,” Buck chokes out. “And — and he said I would be okay, but — Athena, I’m not. I’m definitely not okay. Because he left, and I needed him. I needed him.”
The tears start coming in waves then, and they don’t stop. Buck curls up on his side, in the fetal position, and he sobs heavily until he’s run out of energy. Athena rubs his back, murmuring soothing words he can’t quite make out until the exhaustion returns to him. When the sobs turn into hiccuping breaths, and his eyelids begin to flutter, she smooths his curls back.
“Sleep, Buckaroo,” she says softly. “Get some rest.”
.
When Buck wakes again, it’s through a haze, his mind struggling to regain awareness. He hears voices somewhere, and it takes a moment before he realizes that they’re familiar. His body is still hot. His throat is sore. His muscles twitch and ache, skin scraping against the sheets he’s wrapped in. A sharp, sickening wave of pain pulses through his abdomen.
Struggling against the bedding and also gravity, Buck scrambles for the trash can next to the bed. He can’t grab it, but he hopes to god he’s at least positioned over it when his stomach turns again, and he heaves violently. Vomit sprays from his mouth, and he can’t quite see where it goes. He hears something splash into the trash can, eyes squeezed shut as he continues to throw up.
“Buck?”
“Evancito?”
“Oh - honey, just get it out.”
“There you go, there you go.”
“I’ll get some paper towels -“
“No, Chris - why don’t you come over here and sit with Buck, sweetheart?”
Buck breathes raggedly in Athena’s arms, coughing as his stomach finally calms down. Her palm pushes gently at his forehead, feeling his temperature and easing him back against the pillows.
“Buck, baby, I think your fever’s gotten worse.”
Buck groans, turning on his side and curling into himself.
The next hand he feels on his forehead is smaller, but barely, fingers light and gentle.
“You’re burning up,” Christopher tells him.
“Mmm. I’ll be okay,” Buck rasps. “It’s just a fever, Chris.”
“And you just threw up everywhere.”
Buck winces, not daring to look behind him, where he knows Athena and Pepa are cleaning up after him.
“Everywhere?” he asks, coughing slightly.
Chris smiles, still nervous. “Okay, just a little on the floor.”
“Oh, good,” Buck says, breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief. He puts on a tone of light sarcasm. “Otherwise, I would have been really embarrassed.”
Chris snorts and brushes his fingers through Buck’s sweat-soaked curls. Buck lets his eyes flutter shut. “Do you feel any better now that you puked?”
“Mmmhmm,” Buck hums. “Don’t think I’ll puke again for a while, at least.” He looks up at Chris through one open eye. “How long have you been home?”
“Just got here,” Chris says. “I was telling Athena about the tournament when we heard you wake up.”
“Your robotics tournament!” Buck says, suddenly remembering, and trying to sound more excited. “How did it go?”
“I got second place!” Chris says, flashing him a wide, toothy smile.
“Hell yeah!” Buck croaks. He wriggles his arm free so he can hold up his hand. “High five, Superman! That’s awesome.”
Chris gives him a gentle slap. “Thanks, Buck. We can have a celebration dinner when you’re feeling better.”
Something he can’t quite name tugs at Buck’s heart. “Sounds good,” rasps. He coughs again, throat raw.
“Oh, here —“
Chris grabs Buck’s water bottle from his bedside and brings it to his mouth. Buck drinks, quietly grateful. He’s almost alarmed by how weak he is, and he’s trying not to scare Chris with the severity of his illness.
It’s getting harder by the minute.
He’s still fatigued. Exhaustion pulls at him hard. The heat of the fever rips right through him, wiping him out. He’s starting to drift.
“Buck?”
“Buck, honey?”
Athena’s hands are on his face again, and he whines. Her fingers are cold.
“Buck, are you with me?”
“‘M tired,” he croaks.
“I know,” Athena says, “Just let me check your temperature, okay? We gotta keep an eye on it.”
She grabs the thermometer and Buck hisses when the cold, plastic tip enters his ear. He knows it’s bad; of course he knows. But it’ll pass. It always does.
The angry beeping pierces his skull, waking up the dormant migraine that lives there.
“103.8, Buck. And you can’t have another dose of acetaminophen for a couple hours yet.”
“We have ice packs in the freezer,” comes Chris’ small voice.
Buck knows he’s worried. He reaches out, grabs the kid’s hand and squeezes weakly.
“Good idea, Chris,” Athena says. “We’ll be right back.
Her and Pepa exit the room together, headed for the kitchen. Buck, though hazy and in immense pain, looks up at Chris through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Chris.”
He tries to sound strong, reassuring.
Unfortunately, the vomiting has wrecked his throat. His voice is shot. All gravel and croak.
Buck’s vision isn’t exactly perfect right now. A bit blurrier than he’d like, honestly, but he can still see that Chris’s eyes are glassy.
“What?”
“I’m gonna be okay,” Buck reminds him, though he really, really doesn’t sound like it. He already knows someone is going to make him some throat coat tea before the day is over. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. And it won’t be the last. This is just. How my body works now. And I’m still learning how to work with it.”
“It’s scary,” Chris says, so quiet it’s basically a whisper. “I don’t like seeing you so sick. It — it makes me think about you leaving. D-dying.”
Buck swallows hard.
He’s been thinking a lot about that too.
Is it wrong to tell Chris that? Or is honesty better?
“And - and Bobby,” Chris continues. “He - he died because he got really, really sick, and - I - I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you, Buck.”
A few tears sneak past his lash line, and Chris wipes them away quickly, the average teenager in him mortified, no doubt.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Buck says, giving his hand another squeeze. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, okay? You know me. I don’t give up that easy, do I?”
Chris gives a watery smile. “No. No, you don’t.”
“Chris, you know I think about it too,” Buck begins tentatively. He doesn’t think he needs to confess to everything that’s been on his mind to a kid, but he can meet Chris somewhere in the middle. “The possibility of dying. It is really scary. I’m not ready to leave everyone I love. But it’s always a possibility. Every day. Not just ‘cause I got sick. Not just ‘cause my job can be dangerous, but because I’m alive. But I’m also glad I’m prepared. I know what I’m living with. And you know I won’t just give up without a fight. That’s not who I am. And in the meantime, we can be scared, and brave, together.”
He squeezes Chris’ hand one last time.
Chris nods’ frantically and gasps out something between a sob and a laugh.
“Okay, Buck. I love you.”
“I love you too, Chris.”
The intense moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps returning, and Athena and Pepa return, both carrying multiple ice packs. The reality of the situation is starting to sink in. Distantly, Buck supposes it’s a good thing they’re here to do this; the fever has escalated to the point where he doesn’t even feel real anymore. He’s thoroughly delirious, and it won’t stop climbing. He’s drenched in sweat and he’s shivering so hard he’s afraid he’s going to dislocate something. The next two hours are going to be rough.
Pepa sighs as they approach the bed.
“Oh, Evancito.”
“You look awful, Buck,” Athena says.
All he can do is groan.
His bones feel like logs that have been burning long in a hot flame, lit up and glowing. He thinks if he listened, he could hear them crackling.
Buck blinks, and Athena has stripped him down to his underwear. He doesn’t have enough energy to feel any concern about that right now. Especially not once she and Pepa place an ice pack in each armpit and one in his groin. He jerks a little, groaning and shuddering.
“C-cold.”
The next one goes on his forehead, and it actually feels good. So good he starts to relax a little.
“There you go, baby.”
As his muscles slowly release, his eyes snap shut, his head sinking into the pillows. He doesn’t know if he should fight it. If his fever is dangerously high —
“It’s okay,” Athena says. “We’ll keep an eye on it for you. Sleep.”
He breathes out.
“Sleep, Buck.”
He sleeps.
.
Buck is jerked awake by the sensation of not being able to breathe. He’s engulfed in a coughing fit, gasping and heaving. A hand claps him good a few times, until his lungs expel the spit he’d been choking on.
That same hand gently rubs his back.
“Oh, cariño.”
“Eddie?” he croaks.
“Hey, Buck,” he says quietly.
“You’re home,” Buck breathes, relieved.
“And you’re really burning up,” Eddie replies. “Mierda. I’m gonna check your temp, okay?”
“Okay,” Buck mumbles.
As long as Eddie’s there, everything’s gonna be okay. He feels something cold in his ear — the thermometer — and then several loud, fast beeps.
“Almost a hundred and four still,” Eddie hisses. “Well, you can take more paracetamol now.”
Buck lets out a small whine. He can barely move. Eddie tucks one hand gently behind his head and slides his other arm behind his shoulders, hoisting him up. Buck groans, sweat rolling down his face. Eddie straightens up, grinding his together in worry.
“Buck, I really think we should go to the hospital.”
“No,” Buck says, surprisingly forceful. “No, Eddie. Please,” he adds, not above begging.
“Athena said your fever’s been like this all day. And you’re not keeping liquids down.”
“It’s just nausea. I’ll take more ondansetron. I’ll - I’ll try to eat.” His eyes are wild, unfocused.
“We said if you were just as bad when I got off shift, we would go, and, honestly Buck, I think you’ve gotten worse.”
“I agreed we would reconsider,” Buck argues. “I don’t wanna go, Eddie. We can manage it here.”
“How?” Eddie demands. “Buck, you probably need IV fluids, and what if you start seizing? You’re already struggling to stay conscious.”
“That’s because I’m fatigued, Eddie,” Buck grumbles, closing his eyes for a second. “Listen — every time I go to the emergency room for this, it’s - it’s terrible. They can’t help.”
Eddie frowns, his own panic being overshadowed by the trembling in Buck’s voice and the way he looks like he’s about to cry.
“What do you mean, Buck?”
“I mean, everyone treats me like I’m crazy.” Buck says. “They give me the maximum amount of paracetamol they can give me, take blood, maybe give me fluids, and then shove me out the door again. Actually, one time they gave me naproxen. Bobby did not like receiving that phone call.” Buck breaks off, coughing weakly.
“They —?” Eddie balks, face going white at the thought. “Oh my god, Buck. I’m so sorry.”
“Please, can we — take care of me here, Eddie? No hospital.”
Eddie sighs, “As long as your temperature stays below 106. Once we’re looking at brain damage, I draw the line.”
Buck snorts. “The fever getting this high is — it’s not rare but, takes a lot to get this bad.”
“Well, it is this bad, right now. You are not doing well, Buck, and I need you to stop pretending otherwise, if not for your sake, for mine.”
“I’m sorry,” Buck croaks. “I don’t mean to, I just — it’s like I almost get used to it.”
Eddie’s face drops, his eyes going wide with sadness. He sniffs, grabbing the Tylenol from the table, pouring two, then breaking off another ondansetron tablet and opening the foil. He gives Buck the ondansetron first. Buck takes it, his hand shaking, lets it dissolve on his tongue. Then the Tylenol.
Eddie sits down beside him on the bed, hand coming to rest on his cheek. Buck eases under his touch, sinking back into the bed with a small whine.
“E-Eddie?”
“Yeah, Buck?”
“I feel awful.”
Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Thank you for being honest,” he says, offering a small smile. “Do you think you could eat something? I know you haven’t eaten today. We should definitely try to get some electrolytes in you.”
“I’m tired,” Buck rasps.
“I know,” Eddie says, “but you need to eat and drink. I’ll get something put together. You rest, okay?”
“Okay,” Buck agrees, eyes slipping shut.
Eddie lingers there, rubbing his thumb minutely back and forth across Buck’s cheekbone, as the man drifts off once more. Before he does anything else, Eddie grabs a fresh washcloth from the bathroom and wets it with cold water. He brings it back to Buck, pressing it on his forehead.
Anxiety settles in Eddie’s stomach like a stone. He’s trying not to panic, but Buck’s fever is damn near 104 and he’s barely eating, definitely not staying hydrated, and he doesn’t believe the hospital will be able to help him.
Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Chim.
Because they all know it’s about Buck, Chim answers immediately, saying, “Hey, Eddie. Maddie’s here too. What’s up?”
In the safety of his kitchen, away from the ears of his sleeping and very sick best friend and his child, currently engrossed in video games, he lets his voice shake, “I can’t get his fever to budge and he won’t go to the hospital.”
Chim sighs. “How high is it?”
“103.8 in one ear and 103.9 in the other. I got him to take another dose of paracetamol and put a cool cloth on his head. Athena, Pepa, and Chris had him on ice packs earlier until they all melted. I’m waiting for them to refreeze. His fever has been right under 104 since last night. Nothing is working.”
“Eddie, breathe,” Chim interrupts. “All of those things are working, because his fever isn’t getting any higher.
Eddie does take a breath, the sound of it whistling through his teeth. “He’s not eating, not really keeping liquids down either. We’re gonna try dinner, but —“
He can hear Maddie suck in a worried breath.
“And he won’t go to the hospital,” Chim repeats.
Eddie lets out a noise of frustration. “It’s not just that he won’t, it’s — the ER doesn’t know what to do with medically complex cases like his. He told me he’s gone before, and they just — either do what we would do for him here with the right supplies, or they think he’s crazy, and they don’t treat him at all. Chim, he told me that during one visit, they gave him fucking naproxen.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chim mumbles. “Well, then I certainly don’t blame him for not wanting to go —“
“I’m just worried about the dehydration,” Eddie says. “He really needs fluids.”
“Eddie,” Chim starts, his voice taking on a mischievous edge. “Did you call me for a Captain’s favor?”
For the first time since he got home, Eddie feels a little bit of the tension leave his body. “That depends — do you think you could get me some saline drips?”
Chim snorts. “Let me make some phone calls. I’ll be over there as soon as I can.”
Eddie breathes a giant sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Chim. Seriously.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Chim says. “Just hang in there.”
.
Eddie has just settled Chris at the table with dinner when there’s a knock at the door. Forgetting his own food, he goes to let Chim, and Maddie, apparently, inside.
“Where are Jee and Bobby?” Eddie asks, as they both breeze past him, each carrying a few IV bags.
“With the Lees,” Maddie says. “Jee loves sleepovers, and Bobby can sleep anywhere. He’s the total opposite of Jee. No colic. Just sleep.”
Eddie blinks. “Honestly, I’m kind of jealous. Your brother still has colic and he’s thirty-three.”
Maddie laughs, then follows it with a small cooing sound, eyes glancing toward the bedroom. “How’s he doing?”
Eddie heaves a deep breath. “Asleep since I talked to you last. I just finished making menudo. I was gonna wake him up to see if he could stomach some.” He looks at the supplies Chimney has spread on the coffee table: a cooling blanket, six bags of saline and several vials of extra strength paracetamol.
Eddie nods, feeling his panic dissipate. “Thank you, Chim. And Maddie,” he adds, shaking his head baking and forth. “Seriously.”
Maddie smiles sadly, gripping Eddie’s shoulder.
“Stop trying to assume all the responsibility for him,” she says.
The backs of Eddie’s eyes sting, and he blinks rapidly, urging the tears to stay where they are. He swallows hard, but it only makes the lump in his throat bigger. “I just — I — “
“I know,” Maddie says. “I know, Eddie. But you need to take care of yourself too. You just finished a shift, came home to immediately start fussing over Buck and your own kid — go eat, breathe. Take some time to relax and catch up with Chris. Let me and Chim go check on Buck, okay?”
Eddie nods wordlessly, wiping at his eyes.
Without warning, Maddie simply pulls him into a hug, surrounding him with her warmth.
“Take me to the kitchen,” Maddie says as she pulls back, her arms at Eddie’s upper back. “I’ll ladle up the soup for Evan. You eat.”
Eddie offers a pained smile before leading her. Chris looks up when they walk in.
“Hey, Maddie,” he says.
“Hey, Chris.” She places her hand on his back as she leans in closer to him. “I heard you’ve been helping take really good care of my little brother. Thank you.”
Chris nods, pressing his lips together. “You’re welcome,” he says, quietly.
There are already a bowl and a spoon sitting on the counter, so, Maddie helps herself to the soup, scooping up a small bowl for Buck. Eddie watches her move through his — their house with ease and the ground feels sturdier beneath him. He knows he’s not the only person who’s been worried about Buck. They’ve all been watching his implosion for weeks, discussing it behind closed doors, trying and failing to come up with answers.
Maddie’s right; he needs to stop shouldering the weight alone.
And he should probably have a real conversation with Buck. About his feelings — his fears, his insecurities, other things he hasn’t quite had the courage to name yet.
“Eddie,” Maddie says, hallway out of the kitchen. “Sit down,” she reminds him.
He does.
.
Buck thinks he’s dreaming at first. He smells menudo, one of the few things Eddie can make perfectly from scratch, and it’s something Eddie usually always makes when Buck is sick. Then he hears Maddie’s voice, soft and sweet. Her fingers are in his hair. The wet cloth is taken from his forehead, replenished with a colder one.
“Maddie?” he tries to say, but only a mangled croaky whisper comes out. He coughs roughly, surprised by how much his throat hurts. He tries to sit up a little, but Maddie eases him back into the pillows.
“I’m here,” she soothes. “Don’t try to get up, just rest.”
He just breathes, holding back a groan. He pries open his eyes, desperate for a distraction from the pain. His body aches — his bad leg especially, and his stomach is churning over it. He clenches his teeth together.
“What is it, Buckaroo?”
Chimney comes into view now; he’s holding Buck’s wrist.
“Everything hurts. Bad,” Buck gasps. Another wave of nausea almost has him gagging. “Mmm’feel sick.”
“Buck, your heart is racing. Maddie, hand me my blood pressure cuff?”
While Chim gets the cuff around his arm, Maddie swipes the thermometer across his forehead. “104.2, Howie,” she says, voice full of worry.
“Swap out the blankets,” Chim responds, and before Buck can register what’s happening, the blood pressure cuff squeezes the life out of his arm and Maddie’s pulling the warm duvet off of him, making his shivers ten times worse.
“M-Maddie no,” he pleads, teeth chattering. “I’m s-s-so cold.”
“That’s the fever talking,” she says. She covers him in a new blanket, but this one is thin and attracts a breeze through it, making him feel even more chilled.
“His blood pressure is tanking, Mads,” Chimney says urgently. “Do you see his norepinephrine anywhere?”
“Nightstand,” Buck mutters.
Maddie grabs the aforementioned bottle and shakes a pill loose. Buck is trembling too violently to accept it, so Maddie pops it straight in his mouth and follows with the water bottle, letting him get a sip, and then a few more drinks.
“There you go,” she praises. “Good job.”
Buck whines as she pulls away.
“Maddie, I — I —“ he tapers off, succumbing to the tremors.
“It’s okay,” she soothes. “Just breathe, Evan. You’ll be okay.”
“Hurts,” he whimpers.
“I know.” She runs her fingers through his sweaty curls. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here with you.”
A small sob bubbles out of him. “I don’t feel good.”
“I know,” Maddie murmurs. She sits down on the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around her baby brother, pulling him against her. “I’m so sorry, Evan. We have a plan to get this fever down. Just stay with me, okay?”
“Okay,” Buck croaks, nuzzling his face into the crook of Maddie’s neck.
“Just breathe.”
Buck breathes with her, trying to calm his overheated, overstimulated and completely wrung-out body. After a few minutes of sniffling, he looks up, glancing first at Chim, and then blearily around the room.
“Did I smell Eddie’s menudo?”
Maddie and Chim both laugh. “Yeah, we have some right here,” Chim says, grabbing the bowl off the nightstand. “Eddie and Chris are eating right now. We forced them to take a break.”
Maddie grabs the bowl from Chim, taking the spoon in her hand like she’s ready to feed him. “Do you think you could eat a little?”
“Yeah, I’ll try,” Buck croaks. He knows that eating will give him energy, and if Eddie made this for him, well of course he has to have some; Eddie put all his care and love into it.
Maddie feeds him carefully, spoonful after spoonful. By the time he feels full, he’s finished the bowl, and both Maddie and Chim look less stressed.
“Good job, Evan,” Maddie says, ruffling his hair gently.
“Tell Eddie thank you,” he slurs, eyelids heavy.
Maddie smiles. “I will. You can sleep more, if you need.”
“Stay?” Buck asks. He knows it’s silly; he’s going to be asleep again within minutes, but sometimes, especially when he feels as shitty as he has been lately, all he wants is his older sister.
Maddie nods, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his birthmark.
“Of course, baby brother.”
.
Maddie and Chim find Eddie in the kitchen when he’s halfway through the dishes, both looking satisfied. He notices immediately that the bowl she’s holding is empty, and Eddie feels almost weightless.
“You got him to eat?” he asks.
Maddie nods. “Apparently, he loves your menudo.”
Eddie shrugs, taking the bowl from her with sudsy hands. “I, uh - I make it a lot for him when he’s sick.” He ducks his head and gets to scrubbing, trying to hide the blush that immediately paints his cheeks. He can still feel the knowing glances that the Hans share behind his back.
“He’s asleep now,” Maddie says. “Fever’s starting to drop.”
A heavy exhale escapes Eddie’s lips.
“Thank you guys,” he says.
Maddie smiles knowingly. “Please, Eddie. You’ve been burning out trying to take care of my brother. Thank you. Let us help, too.”
Eddie smiles slowly, “Do you guys want a drink?”
With all the desperation of newborn parents, Maddie and Chim practically fall over to accept glasses of wine. Eddie easily downs his first glass and pours a second. He clears his throat.
“Guys, I’m worried,” Eddie says, voice immediately cracking. “Like, really worried. Not - not just for his physical health, but — since Bobby — it’s like he’s completely given up.”
Maddie and Chim share an anxious glance, but say nothing.
Eddie lets his glass clink against the table. “Be honest. When I left, he started getting worse?”
“It’s not your fault, Eddie,” Chim says immediately, but the speed at which he says it makes Eddie feel like it is.
“What happened?” Eddie asks desperately.
Because he tried; he’s been trying - for years, and he can’t get it through Buck’s thick skull how important he is to Eddie, and Chris. Buck has been the third member of their little family for practically seven years, and he still thinks of himself as only an afterthought. Like he isn’t the person who holds Eddie together most of the time.
Maddie drains her glass before answering.
“He just — he really missed you, Eddie. And Chris. And he thought he was never going to get you back.”
Eddie sighs, pouring them both more wine.
“He slept at our place for the first couple of weeks after you moved,” Maddie continues. “Probably not well considering he crashed on the couch.”
Eddie looks at her with his wide, wet brown eyes. “Why? What?”
Maddie gives a small, fond smile. “He wouldn’t unpack. He said if he unpacked then it would feel too real. It meant that you and Chris, you were really gone, and he was in the house alone.”
“Buck,” Eddie chastises half-heartedly, hanging his head.
Eddie takes another drink of wine, suddenly wishing he was drinking something stronger. If Buck felt so abandoned, despite Eddie trying to make him understand the reasons he had to leave, then why hasn’t anything improved now? Why, when they’re finally under the same roof, does he still feel like they’re eight hundred miles apart?
“I think I broke something between us,” Eddie admits quietly. “And I don’t know how to get it back.”
Maddie nods solemnly. “Maybe you don’t,” she says. “Maybe it’s time you build something new with him.”
Eddie swallows hard, unsure what that means. All he knows is that it’s going to take a lot of work, and far more willingness on Buck’s part.
“You don’t think it’s too late?” Eddie asks, sniffing.
Maddie almost laughs, but instead lets out a small exhale, her smile growing wider, knowing.
“I think Evan will always care deeply about you, Eddie.”
Eddie breathes through a shuddering breath, surprised by the tears that swell at his lash line. “I never wanted him to think that he wasn’t important to me. He’s — he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. He’s — he’s my partner.”
Eddie tries not to think too hard about that word or what it means.
“He knows,” Chim says. “Eddie, he knows. You just need to remind him.”
Eddie feels his heart twist with agony inside him. He’s never gonna let Buck forget how important he is again.
.
They’re halfway through a second bottle of wine when they’re interrupted by the sound of heavy, stumbling footfall and the unmistakable sound of retching. All three of them wince, but Eddie is the first to actually move, tearing his way to the bathroom.
As expected, Buck is huddled on the floor, head in the toilet, body shaking as he expels all the soup he’d eaten earlier.
Eddie immediately kneels beside him, resting his hand between Buck’s shoulder blades.
“Easy, querido.”
He hears footsteps enter the bathroom behind him. Eddie turns his head, frantic eyes landing on Chim, and he mouths the letters, “IV.”
Chim nods in agreement.
Buck pitches forward with a horrible sound, and Eddie looks back at him, heart squeezing in chest.
“Evan,” he breathes.
It’s like Buck’s stomach is trying to crawl right out of him. It’s awful to watch. And when Eddie finally gets a hand on his face, he’s still hot, sticky with sweat, the exertion making everything worse. Buck trembles while a deep and violent cough is ripped from his throat. He’s empty again, but his stomach muscles keep spasming. The nausea still churns viciously in his gut.
He whimpers, swaying as he tries to hold his head up. Eddie gently guides Buck to him, and he collapses into Eddie’s chest, taking small, gasping breaths.
“S-s-sick,” Buck croaks out.
“I know,” Eddie tells him. “We gotta get you back to bed. We’re gonna get an IV in you, okay?”
Buck doesn’t move, too focused on not passing out. He can feel his heart racing in his chest. His blood feels like it’s molten. He’s hot; far too hot.
“Evan?”
He feels soft hands on his jaw.
“God, this fever —“
“I know.”
“Eddie, is it always like this?”
“Not this bad, no, Maddie. But he — yeah, I think it’s been almost nonstop for a while. Sometimes he feels fine, but — overall, always getting worse.”
Maddie moves her hand to his forehead, like she can’t quite believe the heat. Then Buck realizes she’s trying to get him to lift his head.
“Buck, honey,” she says. “Let’s get off the bathroom floor, okay?”
“‘Kay,” Buck mumbles.
He lets Maddie and Eddie haul him up to his feet, each of them taking a side, and an arm, wrapping it around them. Together, the three of them slowly trek back to the bedroom, where Chim is waiting for them with supplies. They lie him back down on the mattress, and because he’s shivering, bring the blankets up to his waist.
In the soft lamp light, they can see the sweat soaking Buck’s bare torso, pooling up on his chest and stomach muscles, more pronounced now that they’ve just been torturing him.
“Buck?”
Chim approaches his side, wearing his blue medical gloves.
Buck swallows, his throat dry and swollen.
“Chim —“
He grabs Bucks left wrist gently and feels his pulse. Distantly, Buck realizes Maddie is holding his other hand, her thumb swirling circles across his palm. Eddie sits on the end of their bed, his hand resting on the shin of Buck’s bad leg. The pressure feels good, grounding.
“I’m going to start a line of saline,” Chimney announces, and he ties off a tourniquet on Buck’s bicep. He then grabs a sterilized needle and an IV line. “Just a little pinch, Buckaroo.”
Between the migraine brewing behind his eyes and the body aches brought on by the fever, the prick of the needle is nothing. Buck barely reacts beyond a wince.
Chim already had a floor lamp prepared as a makeshift IV pole, so he gives the bag of saline a gentle squeeze.
“You’re gonna feel better soon, kiddo.”
Buck gives a weak smile, eyes drooping shut.
.
By morning, Buck’s temperature has dropped to 102.2. He still feels bad, but not quite like he’s on Death’s door. He accepts the Gatorade and toast Eddie brings him and does his very best to eat, only leaving a few bites behind.
He’s immediately tired again and knows that he won’t be able to stay awake much longer, still positively drained, so he says goodbye to Maddie and Chim right after eating.
“Please, please rest and stay hydrated,” Maddie begs, giving him one more kiss to his birthmark.
“Don’t even try to come back to work unless your temperature is 100.4 or less. Preferably less. Preferably under a hundred,” Chimney says.
Buck rolls his eyes, but follows it with a smile.
“Thank you,” he croaks. “Seriously. I love you both.”
“Love you too, baby brother,” Maddie says, following her husband to the door.
“Love you, Buck. Get lots of rest,” Chim says softly.
They head out of the bedroom, and Eddie follows, promising to come right back, but Buck is already asleep then. He doesn’t wake up again until the late afternoon, drenched in sweat and unbearably thirsty.
He’s able to eat dinner with Eddie and Chris that night, despite the headache that still clings to the inside of his skull. Chris is clearly happy to see him up and eating. When they get to bed, his temperature is 101.9.
The next day Buck dares to venture out to the couch, alternating his time between watching television and napping. He’s still exhausted. He definitely doesn’t have much of an appetite and he’s weak. That’s one of the worst symptoms of this. The feeling of being utterly betrayed by his muscles. Not being able to stand or sit or sometimes even hold his head up. Hands shaking when he’s just trying to hold a glass of water or a mug of tea.
His doctors keep suggesting things like shower chairs or mobility aids to help in these moments but giving into those feels a lot like giving up, and that terrifies him.
When Eddie returns with Chris after picking him up from school, they both find Buck half asleep on the couch, mindlessly watching a cooking show. He looks up as they enter the living room, forcing a small smile onto his face.
“Hey, guys,” Buck croaks out.
Eddie approaches him and gently presses the back of his fingers to Buck’s forehead.
“How are you feeling?”
Buck shrugs, which usually means, “Not great, but could be worse.”
“Have you checked your temp recently?”
“101.2 an hour ago,” Buck answers through a sigh.
Eddie frowns. “So you’re still feeling pretty shitty then. You feel hot. Body aches? Headache?”
Buck nods. “Both.”
“Nauseated?”
“A little.”
“There’s still menudo in the freezer. Do you want that for dinner later?”
Buck smiles.
Eddie is standing awkwardly bent over him.
“Sit,” Buck says softly. “I’m gonna be fine, Eddie.”
Eddie sits down.
.
It takes another few days before Buck wakes up and his temperature is a relieving 100.1. He even waits 24 more hours before he returns to work, feeling just a little like he did before this flareup from hell started.
Chimney checks him at top of stairs with an ear thermometer and it comes back reading 99.9. Buck isn’t very confident it’s going to stay that low, but he doesn’t voice that. The truth is, when Eddie left, it sent his body into a tailspin. He started getting fevers every day. Like clockwork, his level of exertion and his cortisol levels sent his temperature climbing. After most calls that actually required he do something, he’d lay low in the bunks, sick and exhausted, drenched in sweat. After every busy shift his temperature soared, leaving him violently shaking with chills in his bed being careful not to overdose on fever reducers as he desperately tried to get things under control.
And then Bobby —
So, really, Buck’s being getting worse for a long time. He’s gotta take advantage of all the good days he has left, like today.
He doesn’t argue when Chim restricts him to medical calls and makes him man behind for everything else. He accepts the help pacing himself because he really, really can’t risk making things instantly worse again. He needs to work. For his own sanity.
And Eddie’s right.
He can’t keep pretending he’s not sick. Like he hasn’t been getting sicker. He needs to take it easy. His body has made that very clear.
He doesn’t even cook.
It kills him a little inside, not being able to, but it’s energy he doesn’t have. So instead he listens to Chim and Eddie when they both separately tell him to take a nap in the bunks. Despite hardly doing anything all shift, he’s exhausted. He suspects his temperature has risen, enough to be a fever again. His muscles ache.
Just as he’s slipping his boots off, hunched over and trembling, Eddie slips into the room, a bottle of acetaminophen in one hand, and a Gatorade in the other. Buck melts, overwhelmed.
“How’d you —?”
“You didn’t fight me at all on the nap, and you look miserable.” Eddie hands Buck the Gatorade.
Buck accepts it, but it’s immediately a dead weight in his hand. Eddie shoots him a concerned look before shaking out a couple pills and handing them to Buck. He slips the bottle of pills into his pocket before taking the Gatorade back and wordlessly opening it for Buck.
“Thank you,” Buck mutters before taking the pills.
Eddie sits down on the bed across from him, sighing, as Buck curls up on the flimsy mattress. They lock eyes, both trying to comfort the other with just a look.
“Eddie,” Buck begins, a little weaker than he’d like.
“Are you about to lie about how you feel?”
Buck gives the biggest smirk he can muster.
“No, Eds,” he sighs. “I’m trying to be honest with you — I’m okay. I’m tired. Worn out. But I’m okay.”
Eddie stands back up, reaching for him. He gets his hands on Buck’s forehead and frowns.
“And the fever?”
“Is normal,” Buck says. “You can check it if you want, but it’s low; I can tell. This is just - this is my body adjusting.”
Eddie grinds his teeth together, sitting back down. “Well, I don’t like it.”
Buck smiles. “Me neither. But I told you I’d be more open, and I am. I’ll feel better when I wake up, Eddie.”
Eddie nods, pressing his lips together in that way he does when he wants to say something, but knows it’s pointless.
“Since you’re out of commission, I offered to cook dinner. Any requests?”
Buck shrugs.
“Just don’t burn it.”
Eddie smiles, and Buck takes that as a win.
“Sleep well, Buck. We’ll wake you up for dinner if you aren’t up by then.”
Buck lets out a happy exhale, and closes his eyes.
.
When Buck wakes, it’s to the feeling of Eddie’s fingers in his hair. He blinks slowly, a small groan low in his throat.
“Eddie?”
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says. “You were right. Your temp went back down. You hungry?”
Buck pushes himself back up.
“I really am,” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Buck manages to eat about half his dinner, unsurprised that he gets full quickly. Eddie shoots him a few worried looks, but Buck shrugs them off. He’s just readjusting. He can always come back for more.
He offers to help with cleanup, but Eddie forbids it. Instead, Buck sits on a stool and drinks tea that Eddie makes him, determined to ease some of his best friend’s concerns.
Eddie makes casual conversation, knowing Buck’s tired and in no mood to talk, choosing to catch him up on things he’s missed out on the past week while sleeping off the worst of the fever. The details of Chris’ robotics tournament and other things at school. Pepa’s latest scathing criticisms of her brother. The last back-handed compliment his mother gave him over the phone.
Across the kitchen, Buck finds himself relaxing simply at the sound of Eddie’s voice.
When Eddie’s finished, they squeeze together on the couch, in the low light of one of the lamps. Buck ends up asleep with his head on Eddie’s shoulder, his book still open in his lap. After a while, Eddie grabs a throw pillow and sets it in his lap.
“Buck?” he softly, and nudges him awake.
He squints on eye open, lifting his head. His hairline is damp with sweat. Eddie remembers its evening now — the time other than afternoon when fevers tend to spike.
“Here,” Eddie says, gently guiding Buck. “Lie down.”
Buck settles with his head in Eddie’s lap. Eddie pulls the blanket currently draped off the back of the couch and covers Buck with it. Finally, he presses his palm to Buck’s forehead, unsurprised to find it hot to the touch.
Buck lets out a noise between a gasp and a groan, but his eyes stay closed.
From across the loft, Chimney gets Eddie’s attention. He raises his eyebrows in question.
Eddie shakes his head to indicate that at this very moment, Buck should be considered out of commission.
Chimney nods.
Thankfully, the next call doesn’t even come in until early the next morning — a request for additional RA support. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief that Buck can stay behind, and follows Hen to the ambulance.
The team lets Buck sleep in, and when he does wake up, he has just enough time to drink a cup of coffee before he’s relieved of his duties and he gratefully changes back into sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
He also takes a couple paracetamol before he finishes up packing his duffel, and then he’s following Eddie out to the Jeep with a grimace.
When they reach it, he hands Eddie the keys.
“It’s better if you drive,” he says. “I didn’t sleep well. My brain is fried.”
Eddie eyes him with concern as they slide into their seats, and continues to glance over at him during the ride home. Buck almost drifts off, head resting against the back of his seat, but he manages to stay awake.
Chris is already at school by the time they get home, so it’s nice and quiet. Buck heads straight for the bedroom. Eddie follows, if only to put his dirty work clothes in the hamper.
“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” Eddie says quietly, as Buck slips into bed. “Do you want anything?”
“No thanks,” Buck mumbles. “I just wanna sleep.”
Eddie watches him turn over, curling up on himself like he did in the bunks, like he’s done all week, and nods to himself. His heart aches. Part of him wants to say it right there, crawl into the covers with Buck and whisper in his ear just how much he means to Eddie. Instead, Eddie lowers the blinds all the way and quietly leaves the room, hoping Buck will get some good, restful sleep.
.
Eddie picks up Chris from school and returns home, and Buck is finally up, brewing a cup of coffee. Eddie has the insane urge to walk up behind him and check his temperature by pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. He reins it in, clearing his throat.
“Hey, Buck.”
He turns, almost startled.
“Didn’t hear you guys come in,” Buck says, voice still rough from sleep. He looks over as Chris shuffles into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. “How was school, Chris?”
“Too long,” Chris grumbles. He narrows his eyes at Buck. “Did you just wake up?”
Buck smirks, nodding tiredly. “Yeah, I did.”
“And now you’re drinking coffee?” Eddie asks. “Sure you’re not gonna mess up your sleep schedule?”
Buck shrugs, moving out of the way as Chris starts to open the snack cupboard behind him. “My head hurts. Caffeine helps. And Excedrin has way more caffeine than a cup of coffee.”
Eddie frowns, and instinctually, presses his palm to Buck’s forehead. Buck tries to shrug away, but when Eddie makes contact, he sighs.
“You’re burning up again.”
That gets Chris’ attention, and then both Diaz boys are staring at Buck with worry.
Buck shakes his head, wincing. “I’m fine. I promise I’m fine.”
Eddie gives him a look of irritation before pulling an oral thermometer from the junk drawer.
“Open.”
Buck huffs impatiently before he opens his mouth and lets Eddie put the thermometer under his tongue. It takes a minute for it to beep, which means -
“One oh two even,” Eddie tells him.
It’s high.
“Mm - Tylenol’s in the bedroom,” Buck says.
“I’ll go get it,” Eddie says. “Go sit down in the couch or something.”
“Fine,” Buck mutters, shivering.
He takes his coffee with him. He sinks into the cushions with a groan. He’s not lying. He doesn’t feel great, but he doesn’t feel like he’s dying either. Sometimes he has to take it slower than a day at a time. Sometimes he has to work with his body hour by hour.
Buck settles on the couch, putting his coffee down on the coffee table and wrapping a blanket around himself. Eddie meets him there with the bottle of pills.
“Here.”
Buck takes the two Eddie hands him with a sip of coffee.
“Have you eaten anything?” Eddie asks softly.
“No,” Buck answers.
“I’m going to make you some toast. Otherwise you’re going to be throwing that back up.”
“Okay,” Buck says weakly. “Thank you.”
He keeps the toast and the coffee and the medicine down, and dozes in and out of sleep while Eddie helps Chris with homework. The couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable place, especially with the body aches. At some point through the haze, Buck hears the front door open and Eddie muttering a hushed thank you.
“Buck?”
Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.
“Buck, wake up.”
Buck lets out a small croaking noise. He cracks one eye open at Eddie, aware his head still vaguely hurts.
“‘Sup?”
“Dinner time,” Eddie explains. “I ordered food.”
Buck pushes himself up slowly, yawning.
Eddie and Chris settle in next to him and as Eddie unloads all of the to-go boxes on the coffee table, Buck realizes he ordered pasta from one of Buck’s favorite restaurants. A comfort food. He smiles.
“Thanks, Eddie,” he rasps out, accepting a container full of classic alfredo - easy on the stomach, in case he’d been nauseated.
Eddie smiles back.
“You’re welcome, Buck.”
.
Buck wakes up first the next morning — early, right after the sun comes up. They’re not due at work until the afternoon, and Chris doesn’t have to be at school for a few hours. Buck lets out a soft sigh. He’d hoped to sleep a little longer. As he takes stock of his body, he realizes he woke up because his body aches are particularly bad this morning. He could really use a shower. With Eddie still snoring softly, Buck slips from the bed and makes his way quietly to the bathroom.
He starts the water before he undresses, letting the room fill up with steam. His stiff joints start to loosen a little, making him hiss when he steps into the tub. The hot water feels amazing on his skin and muscles, easing some of the soreness away and snapping the tension. He hangs his head, letting the water trickle over his face as he closes his eyes.
Buck takes his time, his movements languid as he massages shampoo into his hair, and then conditioner. His arms feel almost too heavy, wind whooshing through his ears as he lowers them back down to his chest. He lets the water do the work, carving through his curls like little fingers.
Washing his body proves to be a challenge. He scrubs his torso just fine, but his head starts to rush when he bends over to scrub his legs. He tries to straighten up slowly, but it doesn’t matter.
His vision starts to blacken and his hearing goes out. He reaches out blindly for anyone, anything, but there’s nothing. He goes down hard, hitting the back of his head against the tile. One of his elbows hits the edge of something, and it instantly stings all the way up to his shoulder.
He’s sure the sound of his fall wakes the entire neighborhood.
Sure enough, the sound of Eddie’s hurried footsteps come down the hall and then he’s knocking at the door anxiously.
“Buck?”
“I’m okay!” Buck shouts clearly, confidently. “I just slipped in the shower!”
“Are you sure you’re good?”
“I’m sure! I’ll be out in a sec!”
Buck waits to hear Eddie’s footsteps retreat before he pulls himself up and out of the tub with a muffled groan. He is absolutely going to be covered in gnarly bruises later. And no one is going to let him live it down.
He shuts off the water and leans heavily against the shower wall, catching his breath and letting his heartrate slow down.
In hindsight, it was a stupid idea to take a hot, steaming shower first thing in the morning before taking his medication.
And maybe —
Maybe it’s time to admit to himself he could use a shower chair. Chris has one sitting right there. Buck could use it if only he decided to.
It’s new. They’d just gotten it, because Chris had grown another two inches. And this one holds 400 lbs. It’s big enough for Buck.
No excuses.
Buck sighs and grabs his towel from the hook.
When he gets back to the bedroom Eddie is waiting up for him. His eyes are immediately on Buck like he expects a detailed explanation.
“What?” Buck asks.
Eddie speed runs through an eye roll. “What happened? Are you really okay? Why are you awake so early?”
Buck holds up a hand.
“Whoa, slow down, Diaz. One question at a time. I’m not even dressed.”
He heads for the dresser and grabs the first pair of briefs, socks, tee shirt, and running pants he can find. Eddie stares at nothing while Buck puts on everything but his socks; he has to sit down for those. That’s when Eddie closes in.
“Buck —“
“I just slipped,” Buck snaps. “I dropped some conditioner and I slipped on it when I was turning around to shut off the water, okay?”
He knows he shouldn’t be angry and lying to Eddie, especially when he promised to be honest, especially when he knows Eddie’s just trying to be a good friend and take care of him, but Buck’s tired of being taken care of right now. He just wants to be strong. He doesn’t want to have to rely on everyone else.
Somehow, Eddie doesn’t even react.
He just carries on.
“Why are you up so early?”
It makes Buck soften a little.
“Pain woke me up.”
Eddie frowns, accepting the peace offering. “Pain where?”
“All over,” Buck answers, voice cracking. “My whole body.”
“I’m sorry, Buck,” Eddie says easily. “I’ll get you some paracetamol. Do you maybe wanna try a muscle relaxer too?”
Buck blinks, aware that tears are threatening his lash line. “Yeah — I forgot I had those. Thanks, Eds.”
“Ice pack? Heating pack?”
“Mmm. Neither,” Buck decides. “But that CBD ointment for my leg?” he asks softly, finally letting the tears out. “It’s killing me.”
Eddie pouts, quickly getting up from bed. “Of course, cariño. I’ll be right back.”
While Eddie goes off to locate all the medication, Buck sinks back into the pillows, slowly turning on his side. The tears flow steadily down his face, eager for release.
He’s so tired. Suddenly he’s very glad Eddie suggested a muscle relaxer. He really would like to sleep a little longer.
Buck is resting his eyes when Eddie returns, and he can hear the small intake of Eddie’s breath.
“Oh, Buck.”
Before he can open his eyes, Eddie’s hand is on his forehead.
“Hold still. I got the ear thermometer.”
Buck waits patiently, wincing a little when it beeps. He hates how loud it is, the noise dredging up the remains of a headache.
“100.6,” Eddie tells him.
Honestly, Buck feels worse. He doesn’t tell Eddie though.
“Another good reason to take paracetamol,” he says,” pushing himself up with a groan.
Eddie hands him him some, and then a muscle relaxer. Buck swallows them with some water.
Or he tries to. Because halfway through drinking, Eddie says, “Take off your pants,” and Buck chokes.
Eddie holds up the CBD ointment. “Would a massage feel good right now? Or light touch only?”
Buck blinks, feeling far more feverish than he is. “You want to massage my leg?” he asks, voice getting croaky.
“Well,” Eddie says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Ointment’s gotta go on. You’re in pain. I can help.”
“Maybe not deep tissue?” Buck says quietly, the tears making a reappearance.
Eddie nods.
He flips open the cap and squeezes a generous amount of ointment onto one palm. He uses his clean hand to close the cap and set the tube aside. Then he rubs his palms together. He’s careful when he starts applying it to Buck's leg.
Eddie starts with the calf, rubbing along the front, the softer muscles, before he transitions to the back, where he knows Buck’s muscles are more tender. He’s careful with the amount of pressure he applies, but he hears Buck give a strained groan.
“You okay?” Eddie asks, freezing.
“Yeah,” Buck breathes. “It’s a good pain.”
Eddie takes a deep breath before he continues. He takes special care of the tendons behind Buck’s knee, knowing how often they give him grief. The knee itself is another ball game, and Eddie relies only on his fingers and thumbs, light with his touch.
He’s saved a little over half the glob of ointment for Buck’s thigh muscles. His hips have never quite been the same since the bombing, and it’s taken a toll on all the muscles, all the way up his leg and around his hip. Eddie applies the most pressure to his outer thigh, digging the heel of his hand into Buck’s skin.
Buck lets out a ragged cry.
“Buck—?”
“I’m okay. Keep going.”
Eddie listens, continuing his movement toward Buck’s hip. He repeats the motions, and Buck pants against the pillows. Eddie watches him carefully, seeing Buck’s chin falling to his chest, small gasps shuddering from his lips.
Eventually the muscles underneath Eddie’s hand finally relax, and Buck is limp underneath his touch, exhausted and spent.
“Better?” Eddie asks.
Buck nods. “Thank you,” he rasps.
Eddie runs his hand over Buck’s forehead, through his curls.
“Try to get some sleep.”
Buck doesn’t need to be told.
.
Hours later, at a more acceptable time to be awake, Buck cracks his eyes open to an empty bed. He’s hot, and sweaty, but his muscles still feel loose and the pain is very much dulled. He at least feels like he can function, and he’ll take all the wins he can get these days.
When Buck makes his way out to the kitchen, Eddie has the bottle of Tylenol and an electrolyte drink out in the island for him. The man himself must currently be in the shower, because Buck can hear the water running. He takes another dose of Tylenol and retreats to the couch just to find his bearings.
It’s late morning. They still have a few hours before they’re due to report for their shift. Buck doesn’t feel too bad. He’s aware he’s a little feverish and he’s still got some body aches, but if he keeps up on paracetamol he thinks he’ll be fine. He’s a lot better off now than he was just earlier today.
Buck doesn’t realize he’s completely zoned out until Eddie enters the living room, and says, “Hey, you’re awake.”
Buck hums, looking blearily over his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better than earlier,” Buck says, straightening up. “Was Chris upset I didn’t say goodbye to him this morning?”
Eddie shakes his head. “He just wants you to feel better.”
Buck nods, feeling his throat tighten at that. It’s not something he could guarantee when he first got sick, and it’s not something he could even hope for now.
“Buck?”
“I’m okay,” he says reflexively, but Eddie knows him too well. His palm comes to rest against Buck’s forehead.
“You’re still hot.”
Buck grins. “Thanks.”
Eddie scoffs, pulling an oral thermometer from his pocket.
Buck groans, but opens his mouth anyway.
He’s not shocked at all when Eddie reads back, “101.1” with a heavy sigh.
“I just took some Tylenol,” Buck tells him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine by the time we need to go to work —“
At the same time, Eddie mutters, “I’m going to call Chim, tell him — wait, what?”
“What?” Buck asks, looking affronted.
Eddie stares at him, disbelieving. “Buck, you can’t seriously be considering going to work today.”
Buck frowns, pouting severely. “And why not? I told you I’m okay, Eddie.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Ay, dios mío, Buck,” he huffs out, wiping a hand down his face. “Why are you trying to martyr yourself, here? Just take the damn day off.”
Buck stands up angrily, but sways the second he gets to his feet.
“You are not okay.” Eddie says, seriously.
Buck stumbles backward, barely holding himself steady. “Would you just let me — ?”
"Let you what?” Eddie challenges. “Kill yourself? Work yourself to death? No one is asking you to do this, man. We all just want you to rest.”
“Well, I don’t want to!” Buck shoots back. “I’m tired of being trapped in this fucking house, in that goddamn bed.”
“You need rest,” Eddie argues. “You fell in the shower this morning! You have a fever —
“I always have a fever now, Eddie! For months! Ever since you left —!”
That stops Eddie in his tracks.
“You—? What?”
Buck heaves a deep breath before collapsing back to the couch. He runs a shaking hand through his curls.
“When you left,” he starts, voice breathy. “I — I got worse. I started getting fevers all the time. Every other day. Then every day. Any time I exerted any energy at all, my temperature would just spike. I did my best to manage it and keep working. And then Bobby, — “ Buck’s breath hitches and he looks down at his lap.
The silence stretches for a moment. Eddie watches Buck wrestle with everything he won’t say, face hidden from him.
"Anyway,” Buck says, voice cracking. “This — what I’m feeling right now? This is the best I feel like it’s gonna get for awhile, Eddie, and I just. I want to be at work.”
Eddie swallows hard. Buck can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t like this anymore than Buck does. Still, he can’t bring himself to make Buck feel any worse than he already does.
“I’m still gonna call Chim,” he says. “Let him know you’re on light duty today.”
Buck nods, defeated.
.
As soon as Buck and Eddie enter the firehouse, all eyes are on them. Buck is allowed the dignity of getting ready for his shift before Hen, Chim, and Eddie sit him down on one of the couches, Ravi hovering awkwardly behind them.
Hen does the examination, starting with his temperature, which is apparently still hovering right under 101.
“Buck,” Chimney chides lightly, tone mostly worry.
His heartrate and oxygen look good, and his muscles are still doing far better than when he first work at the crack of dawn.
“Be honest,” Hen says. “What are you feeling?”
“Just feverish right now,” Buck says quietly. “No headache, no nausea, no dizziness.”
“You need to let us know the second that changes, okay?” Hen says gently. She’s using her Mom Voice, the one that reminds Buck of Maddie, and it works far too well on him, keeping him calm and compliant.
“Okay,” Buck echoes.
Chim assigns him to a stack of paperwork. Then copying — they have a bunch of school visits coming up, and that means a ton of fire safety activities for various ages. And even though Buck is spending most of his time sitting, he can tell that Eddie is not happy.
While Buck moves onto copying another stack of fresh fire safety plans, Hen sidles over to him, two cups of tea in her hand.
He knows Eddie must have told her which flavors he would be most likely to drink. From smell alone, he can tell this one contains rosehips and ginger. The yellow color gives away the turmeric. Buck accepts the mug gratefully.
“So, Eddie’s in his feelings today, huh?” Hen mutters, taking a sip out of her own mug.
Buck sighs.
“We got in a fight before work.”
Hen nods, smirking a little. “Chim told me he called before shift and he was pretty fired up. Wanna tell me what happened?”
“He didn’t want me to go to work today.”
“You know he has a point, right?”
Buck heaves a deep breath.
“I-I know, Hen. I just —“ Buck buries his face in his hands for a moment. “I’m tired of being stuck in bed. Alone. And - and this is the best I’ve felt in a couple weeks, so - what am I supposed to do?”
Hen gives him a small pout.
“Buck,” she starts gently. “You know that pushing through will come back to bite you in the ass eventually.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” Buck all but whispers, voice cracking. “I - I can’t — Hen, it sucks enough that I feel like shit, but — being alone with my thoughts all day.”
She reaches out, placing a hand between his shoulder blades.
“You’re never, ever going to be truly alone, Buck. You know that, right?”
Buck nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He knows that. He does. Believing it is the problem.
“I shouldn’t have blown up at Eddie,” he mumbles.
“No,” Hen agrees. “He just cares about you, Buck. And he wants you to take care of yourself.”
“I’m trying,” Buck says, sounding a little too hysterical. “It’s just — it keeps getting harder to keep up.”
“Buckaroo,” Hen says, rubbing her hand back and forth across his shoulders. “Let us help.”
Buck lets out a shuddering breath, hanging his head. “How mad is Eddie?”
“Not enough that he wouldn’t come running in a second if you asked,” Hen replies. “I don’t even think he’s that angry, Buck. Just worried. And upset that you won’t let him in.”
At that, Buck shrinks into himself. That’s been his problem for months. He used to have no issue throwing his emotions in Eddie’s face, but things change. People change. He worked so hard to mature and put other people’s needs before his own selfish desires and somehow he’s gone too far, closing himself off even to his best friend. If he’s being brutally honest, he hasn’t even really opened up to Maddie much at all recently, preferring to support her through Chim’s near death and the birth of their son. He couldn’t possibly distract her from that.
Except for the fact that what he’s doing right now clearly isn’t working.
Watching Eddie walk away was just something Buck never expected to witness. From their first shift together, Buck had always felt like the universe had pulled them toward each other. Buck, alone and heartbroken, having been left behind, just like Eddie had been. Eddie, who was starting to rebuild his life without the mother of his child, who had to lose her again later and who, like Buck, could really only rely on the familial bond of the 118 to carry them through. A younger Buck would say it was fate that brought them together. This Buck knows it was all Bobby.
And maybe he could walk away from the 118, but he can’t walk away from Eddie.
“I’ll talk to him, Hen,” Buck says, though he has no idea how. “I promise.”
Hen smiles, but Buck can see the worry behind her expression. “Good.” She turns to leave. “And finish your tea.”
He smiles back, his mouth twitching at the effort. “Thanks, Hen.”
.
By the time Buck finishes the paperwork, it’s time for dinner, and then he’s exhausted. He accidentally falls asleep on the couch, and to no one’s surprise, Eddie wakes him up an hour later and helps him to the bunks.
He sleeps like a rock through the night, until he’s woken up in the early morning by the sound of the bell and dispatch relaying the details of a three alarm fire that includes the phrase “all hands on deck.” He’s at his locker, putting on his turnouts before anyone has a chance to tell him otherwise.
When they arrive on scene, Chim starts him manning the hoses, hanging back at the truck. However, as the fire blazes and doesn’t seem to want to stop, it’s crucial to have each firefighter rotate in and out to keep anyone from succumbing to heat-related illness or injury. Chim waits as long as he possibly can, but then someone at the 144 gets injured, and he has no choice but to rotate Buck in. Someone else who’s been run absolutely ragged comes to take over the hose controls, and Buck braces himself to run into the fire.
The effect from the heat is instant.
Buck’s head starts swimming, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, but he simply takes a deep breath, and picks up the hose.
He manages to stay steady, even as the fire swells, fighting back at them. Like he’s done a thousand times before, Buck succumbs to the adrenaline, pushing all the warning signs to the back of his mind as he and his fellow firefighters coordinate the hoses. What started as a fire in a single abandoned warehouse, quickly spreads to three others, and through the past two hours, they’ve managed to corner it back to just one.
They’re in the homestretch now.
When only smoke and the occasional hiss of cooling timber are left, Chim calls Buck to the truck, ordering him to take a break and hydrate. Buck sits down on the side of truck and rips his helmet off, desperate for relief from the heat. His heart is taking off inside his ribcage. He sips slowly from an electrolyte drink, closing his eyes to fight off the violent vertigo.
“Buckaroo?”
Hen is back with him, stowing away her medical supplies.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he gasps, peeling his eyes open. “I, uh — mmm — just a little dizzy.” He holds up the bottle in his hand. “Rehydrating.”
Patiently, Hen pulls the glove off his free hand, and clips an oximeter to his fingertip. It takes a few seconds for the device to give them a reading:
166 beats per minute.
Hen puts a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Just breathe, Buck.”
He nods, once.
“Hey, Cap—“
“I’m taking us offline when we get back,” Chim says, appearing in front of them, face streaked with heavy soot. “This fire kicked everyone’s asses. We deserve a couple hours’ rest.”
Hen nods, “Good idea.”
Once Buck’s heartrate gets a little lower, Hen helps him climb into the cab and get settled in his usual seat.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, still breathless.
“Just keep sipping on your Gatorade,” Hen says. “I want you to finish it before we get back. I’m gonna help the guys wrap up, okay?”
“Okay,” Buck breathes, leaning his head back.
The wooziness doesn’t abide, just shifts, backing off then slamming back into him the second he moves again. So instead, Buck chooses to stay as still as he can.
He isn’t sure how much time passes, but eventually, the rest of the 118 jumps into the truck with him. Eddie slides in last, knees knocking with Buck’s. It’s the first time Buck really looks at him since their fight in the living room yesterday. Somehow, there’s not a trace of anger left. If Buck wasn’t afraid opening his mouth would lead to spewing last night’s dinner, he would apologize right now.
Eddie watches him, seems to understand what’s happening in Buck’s brain despite him uttering nothing out loud. He wraps his foot around Buck’s, squeezing their ankles together in a silent gesture:
It’s okay.
Buck’s lips tremble, a deep breath stuttering out of him. He goes back to sipping his Gatorade carefully and breathing through the intense nausea.
God, he’s exhausted.
Before he knows it, they’re pulling back into the station, and Buck has no recollection of the rest of the ride. Everyone else has emptied the cab and he looks around, confused.
“Buck?”
Eddie is leaning inside the doorway, holding his arm out for Buck to take.
Buck blinks, uncertain.
“Come on,” Eddie says. “We’re covered in soot and sweat. Shower time.”
Right.
Buck grabs Eddie’s arm and hauls himself up. He almost immediately goes down, stumbling backwards until his ass is colliding with the seat again.
“Buck!”
“‘M’kay,” he struggles. “Lemme try again.”
Eddie holds his arm out again, using his other hand to stabilize Buck as he stands. Together, they get him out of the cab and onto the floor of the station. Buck leans heavily into him, stricken with overwhelming weakness.
“Just a sec,” he gasps, straining for air.
Eddie just holds him.
Through some miracle, they get to the locker room, where Eddie helps him get undressed, then sheds his own uniform. Buck feels a weird sense of deja vu. His head is really, really starting to hurt, and his ears are ringing. All the sounds around him sound miles away. When he looks up, the station is swirling around him.
“You ready, Buck?”
He nods absently.
Eddie helps him get up slowly. Unfortunately, it still sends a dangerous wave of nausea through him, and he stops short, breathing shakily.
“You okay?” Eddie asks.
“Yeah,” Buck croaks. “Just - go slow, please.”
Eddie cocks his head, one hand coming up to his forehead, his fingertips dancing along Buck’s temple and hairline.
“You’re really clammy, Buck—“
“Please,” Buck gasps. “Jus’ wan’ shower.”
Eddie leads him towards one of the shower heads.
“Can you lean against the wall for a second?”
Buck makes no indication that he heard Eddie, so instead, Eddie presses his whole body against the tile, until Buck instinctually braces himself on the wall.
Eddie gets to work turning on the water.
Just as it starts spraying, Buck makes a horrible choking noise.
Eddie whirls around in time to watch him fall to his knees, vomiting painfully before his eyes roll back and he passes out.
“Buck!”
Eddie drops beside him, shouting, “We need a little help in here!”
A chorus of footsteps enter the showers, and Eddie can’t even process the fact that he and Buck are both stark naked as he rolls the man onto his side, terrified he might start aspirating.
Someone turns the shower off and Eddie sees that Ravi, Hen, and Chim are all there in various states of post-shower dress.
Hen drops to the floor opposite him, like they’re assessing any old patient, dressed only in pants, socks, and her sports bra. Ravi hands Eddie a rolled up towel to place under Buck’s head.
“Eddie, what happened?” Hen asks, rifling through her med bag.
“He threw up and immediately passed out,” Eddie says. “He’s clammy, confused — it’s gotta be his blood pressure.”
As Hen secures her blood pressure cuff around Buck’s arm, Eddie turns to Ravi.
“Ravi, go to Buck’s locker. In one of the side pockets of his duffel, Buck has his norepinephrine.”
“On it,” Ravi says, before dashing away.
“BP is 80/50,” Hen reports, looking up at Eddie and Chim.
“Screw it - just push epi now,” Chim says.
Hen nods, grabbing a vial of epinephrine. She quickly injects a small dose into Buck’s thigh. Not even five seconds pass before he lets out a groan, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.
“Buck?” Eddie asks softly, rubbing his sternum. “You with us?”
Buck blinks, squinting up. “I don’t feel good,” he grumbles.
Hen laughs humorlessly.
Chim’s eyes are wet with tears.
Ravi stands just a few feet off, holding Buck’s bottle of norepinephrine, color coming back to his face as he sees Buck awake again.
“Your blood pressure just tanked again,” Chim says. “You passed out in the shower, Buck.”
“After throwing up,” Eddie adds.
Buck hums. “That’s why my mouth tastes bad.”
“Buck,” Chim says seriously.
Buck winces at the sound of his voice. “I know, Chim —“
“Do you?” Chim asks. “You scared the shit out of Eddie. You scared the shit out of all of us. And now we’re all sitting in varying degrees of nudeness, debating whether or not to take you to the hospital to make sure you don’t have a cardiac event.”
Buck groans. “Chim, no -“
“That’s Captain, to you,” he says seriously. “And I won’t make you ride the bus to the hospital if you take it slow, take a seated shower, and let Eddie take you home —“
“Of course —“
Chim holds up a hand. “I’m not done, Buckley. You’re on indefinite medical leave — for at least three weeks, and then we can reassess.”
Buck’s eyes immediately go wide, and he tries to sit all the way up. Hen presses him back down to his elbows.
“I am deadly serious about this, Buck. One more thing — when’s the last time you talked to Dr. Copeland?”
Buck hangs his head, looking at him sheepishly through his wet eyelashes.
Chim nods. “So you’ve been monitoring our grief levels and encouraging us to talk but not doing a single thing to help yourself? Call her, Buck. Or I will make you go through a psych evaluation to come back.”
Buck nods, lips trembling, and then he can’t contain it anymore. A burst of sobs escapes his throat, leaving him shaking on the floor as both Hen and Eddie wrap their arms around him, holding him until he’s finished.
.
Chris has just fallen asleep, glasses still on. Eddie takes them off, gives his son a soft kiss on the forehead, and shuts his bedside lamp off. Eddie was never the type of kid who would fall asleep reading, even after his parents told him to go bed, but he’s glad his kid is. He smiles as he lets himself out of Chris’ room.
Eddie stops in the kitchen to grab a fresh ice pack and another electrolyte drink. He makes it all the way back to his (and Buck’s) bedroom and is surprised to find Buck awake, drinking greedily from his water bottle. He doesn’t look like he’s going to be able to stay awake for very long; he still looks terrible, and as expected, his fever spiked as soon as they got home, and hasn’t gone down.
“Hey,” Eddie says softly, depositing the ice pack and electrolyte drink on his bedside table and turning his lamp on. He slides into bed next to Buck and smoothes a hand from his forehead to his jaw.
“‘M I hot?” Buck asks, eyes fluttering shut.
Eddie smiles mischievously to himself before saying, “You’re roasting. We should probably take your sweatshirt off.”
“Noooo,” Buck pouts. “‘M cold.”
“I should also check your temperature,” Eddie says, pulling his hand back from Buck’s jaw.
“Eddie, wait —,” Buck says suddenly, as if he’s just remembered something important.
Eddie freezes, taken aback. “Yeah, Buck?”
His eyes are glazed over with fever, not quite focusing right. Eddie is anxious to get a number on it.
“I’m sorry,” Buck croaks out.
Eddie looks at him in confusion, shaking his head. “For what?”
Buck’s lips tremble. Eddie doesn’t like how flushed he is. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass. I’ve been pushing you away because it was easier than letting you in. And honestly, af — after Bobby died, it was also easier to let myself believe I deserved to be this sick. Because — if — if I had been in the lab there wouldn’t have even been a choice. I don’t have much health left to preserve.”
The confession breaks Eddie’s heart.
“Buck,” he gasps, “Don’t — don’t. Man, you have to stop this. You can’t keep trying to throw your life away while everyone who loves you is fighting so hard for you.”
“I know,” Buck says, reaching out a trembling hand.
Eddie takes it immediately.
“Eddie, I’m sorry. I won’t do that anymore. I mean it. You and Chim and Hen — you’re all right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He’s starting to get more agitated, and it can’t be good for his fever, so Eddie quickly grabs the ice pack, and the towel that’s fallen from the old one to the pillows on the bed and he presses the fresh ice pack to Buck’s forehead, mopping up the sweat.
Buck instantly relaxes, groaning.
“It’s okay, Buck,” Eddie says. “I promise it’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, because he’s not going to be able to stop once he starts, and it’s clear Buck needs to hear this if he’s ever going to make an effort to get better.
“Eddieee,” Buck whines, thrashing a little against the pillows.
“Buck, listen,” Eddie continues, flipping the ice pack over. “I have no idea if you’re going to remember this conversation when you aren’t as feverish, but I need to tell you this.”
Buck stares up at him, eyebrows knitted.
“I don’t really know when I realized, but some time, in the last few months, it became clear to me that I can’t do this — this life thing — without you. Every time shit falls apart, I turn around, and you’re there. Every time I need advice, every time I need help with Chris, every time I need someone to listen, every time I think I’m going to fall the fuck apart and I just need someone to hold me together, it’s been you, Buck. I — look, I’m not as sure of myself as you are, I - I’ve never even kissed a guy but, Buck, you’ve been my partner for years. If there’s anyone I trust to lead me through this, you’re it. You’re it for me, Buck. Everything, all of it. I love you. And I’m in this with you, whether you like it or not. For better or for worse, in sickness and health —“
“Eddie,” Buck grunts out. “Are you proposing to me?”
Eddie shrugs. “Would you say yes?”
Buck laughs breathily. “Maybe you should check my temperature now. Is this a fever dream?”
Eddie feels like his stomach has risen into his heart. Buck is barely conscious, definitely delirious, and overly emotional right now. This was risky, and maybe a little selfish.
“Ugh,” Buck says, shivering through a bad onset of chills. “I can’t believe Maddie and Tommy were right. I was hopelessly in love with you the whole time.”
For a change, it’s Eddie who feels like his heart is going to pound outside of his chest.
“Wait —Tommy?”
Buck groans and throws his arm over his face. “Why did you have to do this now? I’m too out of it to defend myself.”
Eddie laughs, crazed. “You haven’t even said anything. You don’t have to tell me now. I feel kind of bad for unloading this on you when your fever’s this bad.”
“Tommy knew before I did,” Buck says. “‘S why he broke up with me. We kinda … drunk hooked up when you were in Texas. Here. And in the morning he told me truth. That I was clearly in love with you and um, definitely in denial about it. So I obviously complained to Maddie and she called me out too. I think that’s why I’ve been so angry. I was scared, Eddie. Scared you wouldn’t feel the same. And then you left, and — I couldn’t handle even just the thought of it. There was no point. It would only make everything worse.”
Buck looks up at him intently, eyes wide and glassy. “Eddie, I really thought I was never going to see you again. Outside of FaceTime, that is.”
Eddie is so overcome with emotion he almost bites his tongue in half.
“Buck, can I kiss you?”
Buck laughs. “Eddie, you don’t have to ask that ever again.”
Eddie leans over, kissing Buck gently and slow. His lips are very warm, which shouldn’t be shocking given his temperature, but it still feels good and almost painful. It feels better than Eddie could have ever imagined, and he never wants to stop, but Buck’s supposed to be resting, and Eddie could very easily get lost in this.
Buck whines when Eddie pulls away.
“Sorry, I’m still comprehending you hooking up with your ex in my house.”
Buck hums. “Well, when I’m feeling better you can punish me all you want. You can mark me, claim me, whatever you want, Eddie.”
The very thought of any of that makes Eddie short circuit.
“And, Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to tell you, because I never got to tell Bobby, and it’s been killing me. I love you. I love you so much.”
Eddie kisses him again.