Chapter Text
It starts with a call to a small fire in an apartment complex. Nothing the team can’t handle. It’s barely a five story building, and half the apartments are vacant. The residents are agitated, though, when they get to the scene, all clamoring to get to them to voice concerns about the building.
“People,” Chim says, raising his hands above his head. “We’ve got this under control. Please make room for my team to get through! I understand your belongings are important but right now your safety is more important!”
Buck nods, hiking his gear higher on his back. Eddie elbows him, nodding towards the front of the building and Buck follows the movement. A man stands by the entrance, arms crossed, glaring at all the residents. He twists back to Eddie, quirking an eyebrow.
Landlord?
Eddie snorts, nodding. Probably.
Buck grins, turning towards Chimney for instruction.
“It’s not a real fire,” one of the residents shouts over the crowd. “We just needed someone to come!”
Buck frowns.
Chim looks for her in the crowd. “Sorry—what?”
“Our good for nothing landlord paid off the city inspector but the buildings not safe!”
Another resident shouts his agreement, “He’s going to get us all killed.”
The man by the door moves forward, raising his hands. “Are you saying you set my building on fire on purpose? That’s arson! I want them arrested! All of ‘em!”
“Go to hell, Randy!”
The crowd roars in agreement.
What the hell is going on?
Chimney raises his hands over the crowd. “Hang on—someone tell me what’s actually going on here? One person.” He looks through the crowd and then points to someone Buck can’t see. “You. Is there a fire or not?”
“No.”
Buck frowns, turning to Eddie. Eddie shakes his head, glaring at the crowd. “What a waste of city resources. Someone could actually need our help,” he mutters.
“We needed someone to come,” the man in the crowd continues. “We called the city inspector and they didn’t even look.”
Chim sighs. “Look at what?”
“There’s a huge crack in the basement,” a woman says. “You can see through it. We’re scared the building isn’t safe.”
“But we can’t get anyone to declare it so we can’t leave because we can’t afford to.”
“Everyone who could is already gone.”
Murmurs of agreement collect through the crowd.
Okay.
Maybe this is an emergency.
The landlord raises his hands. “The inspector came yesterday. He agreed it wasn’t structural. It’s just what happens to old buildings! These people are paranoid and just want to get out of paying their rent!”
Buck narrows his eyes at him. He gives sleezy landlord special all day. Buck could absolutely see him spackling over a structural issue in the basement to save a few bucks.
Chimney sighs, sends an update through the radio, then turns to Buck and Eddie. “Buckley, Diaz. Check out the basement. Make sure it’s safe.”
Buck nods, hiking his gear up on his back. “On it, Cap!”
He pushes through the crowd, somewhere through the middle they start moving out of his way. Quiet murmurs of thanks follow him through. Eddie’s hot on his heels, and when they get to the front door, the landlord stands in front of it, crossing his arms, ready to tell them to get lost.
Eddie beats him to the punch.
“You can stand in our way and get arrested when the police get here, or get out of the way.”
“Yeah,” Buck nods. “If the issue’s as minor as you say, you shouldn’t have a problem with us taking a look, anyways.”
The landlord narrows his eyes, and for a second Buck’s convinced he’s going to try to fight them. Eddie must agree because he tenses next to Buck and takes a half step forward, angling his shoulder in front of Buck’s. Buck raises an eyebrow over that shoulder at the landlord, and he sighs, defeated, before stepping aside.
There’s a lot of huffing and puffing. A muttered, “They’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
Buck gets the distinct feeling that they’re not.
Athena’s gonna have a field day finding out who the city inspector who stopped by yesterday is if that’s the case.
Eddie holds the door and Buck steps through, nodding a thanks as they head towards the stairway at the back of the hall.
“What do you think?”
“I think the guys a jackass.”
Buck chuckles, nodding his agreement. “But,” he says with a little flourish of his hands, “do you think he’s a criminally negligent jack ass?”
“He’s wearing snakeskin boots, Buck,” Eddie huffs, yanking open the door to the stairwell and pausing to look at him. “You tell me.”
Buck pauses, glancing over his shoulder and sure enough, through the front door, angrily tapping away: snakeskin boots. Gross. He turns back to Eddie. “How did you notice that?”
“Hard not to notice shoes that tacky. Go.”
Buck rolls his eyes and steps into the stairwell. He heads down, taking the stairs two a time. Their gear clanks angrily against them, the sound booming as it echoes against the corridor walls. He hops down on the landing and grins up at Eddie, where he’s several steps behind.
“Come on, old man.”
“You’re older than me.”
“Faster, too.”
“Shut up and go,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, and Buck can’t help the matching grin as he pushes open the door with his back to it.
“You can’t even tell that I—“ he twists as the door opens, turning to head into the basement and find the crack. He doesn’t have to look that hard, actually. Considering it’s on a beam directly in front of them. “Oh, he’s going to jail.”
Eddie stops next to him, whistling low. “So is the city inspector who said there was nothing wrong.”
They approach the beam cautiously—crack might be an understatement for what they’re looking at. One pillar has all but become two. It looks load bearing, too, if the way the center of the basement ceiling warps in towards it is any indication.
Buck curses and blindly reaches for his radio. “Uh. Cap?”
The radio crackles. “What do you see, Buck?”
“A class action lawsuit, for sure.”
Eddie shakes his head. “Really?”
“Am I wrong?”
He opens his mouth to reply. A shoe falls off the shelf in the far corner of the basement instead. Buck frowns at it, glancing back to Eddie. What’d it do, jump? Eddie’s staring at the shoe, eyebrows furrowed. “Buck,” he says, warningly, eyes trailing up from the shoe, over the flooring and up towards the beam.
There’s a sickening creak above them.
Chimney radios back. “Guys, I think you need to get out of there.”
Stomach swooping, Buck watches the crack in the beam widen—dust crumbles out from between the two sides, pebbles of concrete clatter to the floor and bounce away, like they’re making a run for it. And like a snake slithering across a surface, the crack travels up, up, the beam, all the way to the floor above it, disappearing.
“Out!” Eddie shouts, snapping back around. “Go!”
The ground rumbles beneath their feet, and Buck barely has time to turn in the direction of the door, before Eddie knocks him out of the way with his shoulder as a panel comes crashing down from the ceiling. Buck stumbles backwards, wide eyed as the building shakes and groans around them.
“We gotta go!” Eddie shouts, grabbing for him, stumbling away from the fracturing beam. “Now!”
They turn to run for the stairwell.
But it’s too late.
With one thunderous shriek, the building gives.
Buck only has time to seek out Eddie’s gaze—to reach for him and to think no before it all comes tumbling down.
“Buck!”
Eddie’s scream echoes, until, ultimately, like everything else: sight, sound, the plans for tomorrow they’d been making at the breakfast table with Chris and Theo yesterday—it's lost to the dark.
The last time Buck died he didn’t really feel anything until he woke up in the coma dream from hell and with a new lease on life. This time — there’s pain. Somewhere. Everywhere? He can’t really tell. It’s so dark and something hurts, and death smells a hell of a lot like life after disaster. A little like iron and ash. He inhales and the breath gets caught at the back of his throat, ashy and angry and he hacks it back up, his head tilting back where it’s resting against something sharp.
There’s an angry ringing in his ears, and he feels vaguely . . . cold? No. He blinks rapidly, eyebrows rising and falling as if that’ll help clear up his vision somehow. He clenches his hands at his sides—not cold. Wet.
Death is wet?
“—uck?”
Hm. He twists, grimacing as the pain, wherever it’s coming from, roils down into his limbs. He has to stop for a second, taking a long breath to work through the pain. Slow and easy to not agitate whatever he’s inhaled that makes his throat so ticklish and sore. Still, he coughs at the tail end and all the air goes whooshing out and the pain comes swooping back in.
What the hell happened?
“Buck.”
God?
“Buck!” His name sounds almost primal this time, clearer, just above the ringing his ears, if a little muffled. There’s an agitated groan, and then, “Come on, man. Get up.”
That’s weird. God almost sounds like—
“Can you hear me? Get up!”
Eddie.
He forces himself upright, groaning and grabbing at the ground to hold himself up. Blinking again, clearing the dust from his eyes, he swings his head around. It’s dark, but the room starts to come to him in pieces—literally. Chunks of concrete litter the room, pieces of beams fallen over and obliterated. Stray laundry from the laundry area strewn across debris.
Were they in an explosion?
“Eddie?” He calls out, voice hoarse.
“Buck?”
“Are we dead?”
Eddie hesitates.
Buck twists around. A light fluttery feeling seeps into his ribs and his stomach twists around it. “Eddie?”
“We’re not dead,” Eddie answers.
Buck swings in the opposite direction, frowning. “Where are you?” Eddie doesn’t reply right away and Buck pushes to his knees—pain second to the feeling in his chest. His blood rushes louder than the ringing, and he asks, louder, “Eddie?”
Eddie sighs. “On your six.”
He turns around. Eddie’s coated in a thin layer of white dust, hands draped over the top of what so far seems to be the only intact beam in the whole basement. Pushing to his knees, Buck sweeps his gaze over him. No blood. That’s good. He lost his helmet, not good. Almost instinctively, Buck reaches up to check for his own, but he just runs a hand through wet curls.
“What happened?”
“Building collapsed,” Eddie mutters, watching him intently, like he’s inspecting him for injury. “Are you hurt?”
The pain from earlier is barely a distant memory as Buck closes the distance between them with a shake of his head. “No. I don’t think so. I lost my helmet.” He reaches for his radio on his shoulder, but that’s gone, too. “Do you have your radio?”
“Yeah, but it’s shattered.” Pausing, he adds, voice almost soft, “They’ll need to check you for a concussion when you get out of here.”
No radio. No helmets. Buck doesn’t need to look to know they lost the rest of their gear in the collapse, too. Great. They’re trapped with no way to call for help.
As if the universe wants to get one last punch in, somewhere far off, there’s a crackle-hiss of electricity. It could be fine.
Or.
That could be a problem.
Water splashes against Buck’s feet as he comes to a stop in front of the beam. It could be a serious problem if the wire dips down into the water.
“Can you remember that?” Eddie asks.
Buck blinks, looking up at him. “Remember what?”
“You’re not funny,” Eddie frowns down at him, his lips pursed with irritation and something else.
“I’m not trying to be,” Buck retorts, sidestepping the beam and looking it over. Why isn’t he moving?
“You need to remember to have them check you for a concussion.”
He clicks his tongue. “Why do I need to remember? Remember for me.”
Eddie’s jaw clicks side to side and he looks away, off towards the darkest part of the basement. He shakes his head, almost to himself, and murmurs quietly, “Buck.”
Buck drapes a hand over the beam. “Can you get out from there already so we can figure out a way out of here?”
Eddie purses his lips. “No,” he says, quietly, without looking at Buck. “I can’t.”
Buck rolls his eyes and rounds the back of the beam. “Now who’s not f—“ the words die in the back of his throat, like a fire quickly and efficiently snuffed out. His knees go wobbly as he comes to a stop and holds a hand out to grab the side of the beam to steady himself.
Finally, Eddie looks at him. He swallows hard enough for Buck to hear, and mutters, “Still you.”
He’s trapped between the beam and the wall.
“Is it—“ Buck cuts himself off as an image of an explosion flashes behind his eyes. His own screams, a ghost of an echo in his ears. The engine looming over him. Seconds counting down until it’s too late.
It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t finish the question. Eddie hears the it in the fraction that manages to slip past Buck’s fear. “I don’t think so,” he answers, quietly. “I’m,” he makes a face, anger ticking in between the lines of his forehead, “not in pain.”
Buck shakes his head, swallowing. “That—“ he breaks off and moves around to the other side of the beam. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he mutters past the lump forming in his throat. “It—it could be adrenaline or—or—“
“Or,” Eddie finishes somberly, “I’m paralyzed and I don’t feel anything because I can’t?”
Buck’s hand slides over the side of the beam. He doesn’t look up at him, can’t. He knows what he’ll find there. Fear. Anger. Knowing Eddie, some idiotic form of acceptance. Like this has always been his fate.
To die in the basement of a man who wears snakeskin boots.
His gaze catches on the water at the bottom of the beam. It’d been barely more than a puddle when he woke up. A muggy clue to what happened here. He picks up his foot and drops it back down into the water. It’s almost entirely over the top of the toe box.
Frowning, he asks, “Is the water rising?”
“What?”
“Is the water rising?” He stares at it, as if he’ll see it move, or as if staring hard enough will keep it from rising. Something.
Eddie pauses. “Shit.”
Buck looks up at him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head.
Wide eyed, Buck turns back to the room at large. “Shit.”
He takes an unsteady breath and narrows his eyes as he twists around to look out into the distance. There’s a quiet thrum of electricity still in the air, which means there’s an exposed wire somewhere. He spins, following the perimeter of the room, trying to map out where they are, but he can’t even find the doorway to the staircase. Dragging his gaze up to the ceiling, he searches for gaps in the darkness, any indication of an escape route, but there’s nothing.
No way out. Just endless rubble.
He drops his gaze back down to the water.
Definitely rising. And fast. His boots are already covered to his pant legs.
At the rate the water’s rising and with Eddie—trapped, if they don’t get electrocuted they’re going to drown.
At least he’s an inch or so above the surface of the water—if the wire touches it, Eddie’ll be safe from electrocution. Buck’s already been struck by lightning, what’s a little light electrocution to add to his roster?
He runs a hand over his mouth and turns back to Eddie. “Do you think they’ll turn off the power?”
As if their team can hear him, or God’s listening, or Bobby’s ghost has just decided to interfere in gods plan, there’s a click, a slow dimming whirr, and then the few flickering lights go dark. Buck holds his breath—but the light hum follows after it, leaving them in total silence but for the sound of their own breathing and the rush of water over rock.
“Looks like someone’s looking after us,” he breathes, nodding to himself.
Eddie nods, “Looks like,” he echoes, though the words are filled with marginally less relief and more desolation. Which isn’t actually all that helpful.
Buck looks down at the water. “At least we don’t have to worry about death by electrocution,” he quips, offering a wobbling smile down at his boots, before turning it up towards Eddie. “Been there, done that.” Eddie makes a face that says you’re not funny, but Buck barrels on. “Wasn’t really a fan.”
“Buck.” His voice is stern, disapproving.
Buck ignores him, dragging his attention back to the rubble around them. “I don’t think it collapsed on its own,” he says. “It was obviously going down one way or another, but—“
“Earthquake,” Eddie answers. “You don’t remember the walls shaking before everything fell?”
Buck glances at him. “Couldn’t that just be from the building collapsing?”
He shakes his head. “I know you’ve been in LA longer than me, but it felt like an earthquake. I felt it—“ he cuts himself off and looks down his torso to where it disappears beneath the beam. “I felt it in my toes.” The way he says it, kind of soft spoken and distantly worried—
Buck forces himself to take a breath to ward off the fear creeping in on the edges of his vision. “O—Okay,” he says shakily. “Earthquake. Makes sense. Buildings don’t just fall with no warning.”
He looks towards the ceiling again—there’s an almost ridge, he thinks near the top. They’re cut off from the rest of the basement, at least two thirds of it, if his memory of before the falls serves. If the water keeps rising at this rate, that could be a safe space. If the water makes it to that ridge, it’ll pour out over the sides. They’ll have space to breathe for however long it takes the rest of the room to fill from that point.
That’s the goal.
Get Eddie free. Make it to the ridge. Hang on until help arrives. Because help will arrive.
Best to make it as easy as possible for them when they do.
He spins back around and splashes through the rapidly rising water, circling the beam trapping Eddie. There’s gotta be a way. Something he can use to leverage the beam up enough, just enough for Eddie to slip free. Somewhere down here, there’s gotta be—
“Buck.”
“Give me a second,” Buck mutters distractedly, narrowing his eyes and dropping down to his knees to press at the space around Eddie’s leg. His fingers can squeeze in between rock and limb which—-that’s good. Thats. Good. Not a crush injury. He looks up towards Eddie. “Can you feel that?” He asks.
Eddie, for what seems like the first time since Buck came to, takes in a breath. “Yes,” he says, nodding. “Yes. I—yeah.” Buck stretches out, grimacing as his ribs twinge, but barrels past the pain to wrap a hand around Eddie’s other ankle. He hisses like it hurts.
“Where are you at on the pain scale?”
Eddie shrugs, looking away. Buck pretends not to hear the hitch in his voice when he says, “That was a three? Maybe.”
Buck nods. Pauses, and narrows his eyes up at him. “And on a normal persons scale?” He’s not going to address the fear elephant but he needs to know what they’re working with.
Eddie’s eyes dart back down to him, “What the hell is a normal persons scale?”
“Someone who doesn’t have crazy pain tolerance and isn’t afraid to let other people know they’re hurting.”
Eddie glowers. Buck raises an eyebrow.
A sigh. “Probably a six.” Something flickers across his face, though, as his gaze drifts past Buck towards the water.
Okay. If he’s admitting a six on round two . . . That’s—probably not broken. And when Buck pulls his hand back, there’s no blood, either.
Okay. Good. Great. That’s—just trapped, then. He can work with trapped. Maybe throw in a sprained ankle or dislocated hip. All of that is manageable.
He kneels and drops his hand to the pile of rubble beneath him, ignores the way he can feel the water inching upwards, slick cool sliding up the sleeve of his turnouts. Higher, higher.
Don’t think about it.
They’re going to get out of here before it becomes an issue.
He looks up towards what used to be the ceiling. Now it’s layer and layers of rubble waiting to come tumbling down on what’s left of the basement and their little pocket of crumbling safety.
He swallows.
If there’s an aftershock—
“What are you doing?”
What a dumb question. Buck shoots him an annoyed glare. “Figuring out how to get you out.”
“Buck,” Eddie mutters like he’s not surprised but is disturbed. “There’s no point.”
Buck scoffs, shoving himself to his feet with a messy splash of dirty water. He jumps over the beam and seeks out the vulnerable point, running a hand along the cracking concrete and twisted rebar. “There’s a way,” Buck says. “We’re gonna get you out of there.”
“You’re not listening to me. I already looked.”
Buck scoffs, scratching at a particularly deep crack towards the bottom of the beam. “Yeah,” he says, "Because you have such a good view of your situation from the center of it?” He doesn’t have to look up, doesn’t have to have a flashlight or a glimpse at the rising dawn outside to tell him Eddie’s glowering at him. He can feel it. It’s the only thing keeping the panic from skittering across his skin and becoming a living entity within him.
As long as Eddie’s grumpy, he’s alive. And for now, that’s enough.
Eddie grinds his teeth and bites out, “You were out ten minutes longer than I was! I’ve appraised the situation. I know our odds!” By which he means his odds, and Buck’s not wasting time listening to those. He twists his neck to follow Buck as he moves, adding. “I need you to listen to me.”
“You thought you were paralyzed,” Buck says without glancing at him. “You haven’t appraised anything.”
Eddie groans like Buck’s being particularly frustrating.
He kneels in the water again. It’s up to mid thigh now—it’s fine. Yeah. The city will turn the water off long before it becomes an issue. The bigger issue is the structural integrity of the fallen building above them. The water’s rising rapidly, but that’s the least of their worries. He just needs to pull Eddie free and then they can find somewhere safe, sturdy, within the rubble and hold out until the others find them.
He pauses.
The others.
Do they know they’re still down here? Did anyone go in after them?
“Buck!”
He jerks towards Eddie’s voice. “Stop yelling at me, I’m thinking.”
“I don’t need you to think, I need you to listen.”
“Unless it’s a plan for us both to get out of here, I don’t think you have anything to say worth listening to right now.”
Eddie groans, slapping his hands feverishly against the concrete beam like a toddler who wanted waffles but got pancakes. “The waters rising too fast, Buck.”
“It’s probably a broken water main,” Buck mutters, shoving up from the ground and turning to face him. “The city’ll turn the water off and it won’t be a problem.”
“That would require them to think of it first.”
Buck shakes his head. “A building collapsed. They’ll think of it.”
“That’s exactly why they won’t think about it! How many people were in this building? How far is the debris field? How many stations did it take with it? The water is the lowest low on priorities.”
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe.
But it doesn’t matter.
“Are you hearing me?”
“Kind of hard not to when you’re the only other voice in the room,” Buck snarks.
Eddie rubs his hands over his face, mumbling something under his breath. And then he heaves a deep breath and Buck turns away so he doesn’t have to see what is surely a serious, solemn look.
You’d think finding out he isn’t paralyzed or suffering from a crush injury would lighten the mood.
Eventually, his voice comes back, determined. Clear. No room for dismissal or argument, as if he’s forgotten entirely who he’s dealing with. “At the back of my closet—“
Buck’s spine goes rigid. He snaps back around. “No.” Pointing, he takes two unsteady steps towards him. “Stop talking.”
Eddie raises his voice, speaking over him, “At the back of my closet—“
“You’re not doing this, Eddie. I swear to god—.”
As if Buck hasn’t even spoken, he carries on, “There’s a shoe box. I need you to—“
“No.”
He sighs, deep and agitated. “I need you to know where to look, Buck. There are things that need to be said and—“
“Then say it when we get the hell out of this basement. Don’t—don’t try and memorialize yourself before you’re even on your death bed. What—what the hell is wrong with you? You’re trapped, not dying!”
Eddie’s brows twitch together. Tension seeps out of his shoulders and he slumps towards him. “My problem is,” he murmurs. “I don’t want Christopher to think I died without making sure I could tell him I love him one last time.”
“Problem solved,” Buck chirps, twisting around to look for something big enough to try and leverage the beam with. “You’re not dying. You’re going home to him, and I’m going home to Theo, and by Friday we’ll all forget this building collapsed on us.”
“You don’t honestly believe that.”
Buck looks down, gaze sweeping over the dark cavern of the basement. A light flickers to life somewhere overhead, but shadows from fallen beams cast through its shuddering shine. There’s no hum that follows that says the electricity’s back on—probably just emergency back up power. Hopefully not enough to kill them if the water makes it up there.
He watches the water at his feet.
When. It makes it up there.
It’s fine.
It doesn’t matter what he believes. It doesn’t matter that his hands tremble with every motion, or that water’s seeped clean through his turnouts and what’s meant to insulate is only keeping the cool in. It doesn’t matter that the situation looks almost hopeless, because almost means not entirely, and he’ll cling to almost until there’s not enough almost to wrap his trembling fingers around.
“Buck. Please.”
Buck bends over and picks up a long, ragged piece of rebar peeking out from the surface of the water. He flexes it between his hands—relieved to find little give. He can work with this. Leverage it beneath the beam. Set Eddie free.
He turns, sloshing his way back to him, water deep enough now there’s a resistance to his every step. He holds the rebar up over his head for Eddie to see.
Eddie makes a face at it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you out of there.”
“By yourself?”
“Weird day to start doubting me,” Buck mutters, kneeling in the water. It sits at his belly button now, and he digs down to the bottom, ignoring it as it splashes back up towards his face and up his nose. His fingers find the bottom of the beam and he holds them there for a beat, tracing it, before pulling back, aiming the rebar and slamming it down on that seam with as much strength as he can muster.
His ribs smart—ache and scream with the motion, that mysterious injury, which is starting to feel like a broken rib, trying to break through the adrenaline. He ignores it, it doesn’t hurt enough yet to be an issue.
“I’m not doubting you,” Eddie mutters, leaning over the beam to watch him. “I’m worried about you.”
Buck sits up with a groan, dropping his good knee and lifting the other, planting his foot next his knee and wrapping both hands around the rebar. “I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m not the one trapped by a several ton concrete beam.”
“You’re being idiotic.”
Buck rolls his eyes. “Can you push while I pull instead of arguing with me?”
“We’re not getting this off me with our bare hands, Buck! Be realistic!”
Buck huffs, turning to glare up at him. “Where has realism ever gotten us? We fight. That’s what we do. We walk into fires and we walk out because we don’t give up,” he turns back to the rebar and starts pulling, putting all his weight into attempting to drag it down and leverage the beam up. “When things,” he groans out the word, gritting his teeth, “get hard!”
Eddie watches him before nodding, not like agrees, but like he can’t bear to watch Buck do this alone. He adjusts himself to leverage his back against the wall and his palms against the beam, tilting his head to the side like he wants to tell him again that this isn’t going to work but thinks better of it.
Buck pauses.
“On three?”
Eddie’s jaw clenches. “On three,” he agrees.
“One.”
Eddie’s nails scratch against the beam.
“Two.” Buck shuffles to give himself a better grip, fingers wrapping around the rebar like it’s the last thing he’ll ever hold.
They look at each other and say, “Three,” in unison.
The beam creaks as they move in one. Eddie groans above him, like he’s putting everything he has into it and his arms are going to hurt like hell tomorrow, and Buck pulls — Buck pulls, pushing all his weight down, hoping gravity will be the helping hand they need. Something creaks, groans, and just as Buck swears he feels something shift—
The rebar cracks in half and Buck falls flat on his ass into the water. His hand stings when it hits the water, and he chooses not to look at it, because if he’s bleeding, Eddie’ll make it a thing, and they don’t have time for that. He shoves up from the water, kicking at the bit of the rebar still sticking out from beneath the surface, dislodgng it and burying it with Buck’s frustration.
He drops his hands to his hips and stares down at the beam.
Think, Buckley. Think.
What would Bobby do?
He takes a deep breath and moves.
Eddie’s eyes track him through the water as he walks away from the beam in search of something else they can use. Something thicker, that can withstand the weight. There’s got to be something. Eddie’s not trapped indefinitely. Buck’s going to get him out. He sloshes through the water, narrowing his eyes, trying to see down and into it, but it’s so dark, and the water’s risen so high, it’s almost up to his hip bones. He can’t see anything but shifting tides and drifting bits of concrete.
And—a shoe.
“Do you believe me yet?”
He stops. “No.”
“Look at where we are, man. The water’s rising faster than we’ll ever be able to find a way to get me out of here.”
“The team could come barrelling through the wall any second now.”
Eddie scoffs. “You know that’s not procedure.”
Buck whips around. “You don’t even know how long we’ve been down here!” He screams, voice cracking with desperate frustration. “You can’t just give up!”
“I’m not giving up, I’m accepting reality.”
“Just because we can’t see the way out yet, doesn’t mean that’s the only reality.”
“Buck—”
“You survived getting shot!” Buck yells, storming through the water towards him, the movements somewhat subdued by the rising water. “You survived getting buried alive. Going to war. Getting stabbed by a crazy person in an elevator. And you’re telling me the basement of some piece of shit landlord who wears snakeskin boots is going to be your undoing? Seriously?”
Eddie stares at him.
“Technically I got stabbed in the chapel,” He mutters.
Buck stops. It startles a laugh out of him. “Seriously?”
Eddie shrugs. “It was an eye opening experience.”
“You’re splitting hairs about your near death experiences. While actively in another. You’re insane.” Eddie Diaz is an insane person, and it’s only taken a decade for Buck to realize it.
Eddie’s eyebrows rise. “So you admit this could kill us.”
Glaring, Buck points up at him. “Not the point. Also not what I said.”
“I disagree.”
“One of us has to think we’ll get out of here.”
“And one of us has to accept that only one of us has a chance.”
Buck groans. “I’m not letting you die!”
Eddie’s chin wobbles and his voice cracks when he says, “I’m not sure you have a choice.”
Buck pauses, crossing his arms and looking down at the ground, or rather, the water, between them. “Don’t say that,” he croaks, swallowing. He looks back up, feeling particularly vulnerable. “I couldn’t save Bobby and he was right there,” his breath hitches and he sniffs, looking away. “Don’t tell me I can’t save you, too.”
“Buck . . .”
They’re going to the movie in the park on Friday night with Chris and Theo. They’re going to get dinner from Chris’ favorite food truck on the way, and then to the little mom and pop ice cream shop afterwards. And then they’ll head back to Eddie’s house, where they’re going to build a fort for Theo and help Chris with his science project.
They can’t do all that if Eddie’s dead.
Buck can’t build a fort.
Eddie’s the fort maker.
Theo loves Eddie’s forts.
Chris—Chris just loves Eddie. He’s not going to want to watch a movie or eat dinner or get ice cream if Eddie’s dead.
And Buck—
What the hell is Buck supposed to do in a world without Eddie? The worlds already dark enough in the wake of losing Bobby. He couldn’t even hold it together a year without fucking it all up. How’s he supposed to survive losing Eddie?
His life is cleanly divided between before Eddie and after Eddie, and he can say with absolute certainty that he’d hardly call what he was before Eddie alive.
If Eddie expects him to walk out of this building alone—it’s not going to be alive.
If one of them dies, they both die.
The world doesn’t just. Keep spinning.
“Can you just—“ he cuts himself off and shuffles in the water. “Try?”
“Try?”
Buck nods, once. “Bobby gave up. He gave up and didn’t give anyone the chance to help him so I—I’m asking you to let me try. And to—to think you’re gonna get out of here, because if you—if you’ve already given up, it’s going to make things a hell of a lot harder to drag you out of here if you’re kicking and screaming so you can prove a point.”
Eddie swallows. “I think,” he says. “If I’m kicking and screaming my point was pretty clearly disproven.”
Buck frowns up at him.
He shrugs a shoulder. “But,” he nods. “Yeah,” his voice cracks. “What’s the plan?”
Something in Buck’s chest loosens and he gives him a resolute nod back before winding around the side of the beam. “The plan,” he says, running a hand over the side of the beam. Stray bits of debris snag on the sting of his palm, which is another problem for another time. His ribs, his hand, his head. It all pales in comparison. “Is to get you out of there.”
Buck can practically hear him swallow back the, and how the hell are we gonna do that?
“Alright. Let’s.” He takes a breath and tosses his hands out at his sides. “Get me the hell out of here.”
The water rises faster than Buck can think.
It taunts them as he splashes through it, trying to leverage himself into different spaces around the beam. Together they push and pull at it. Together they wear out every aching muscle in their body and ignore every deeper twinge because if they stop, if they admit defeat—
That’s not an option.
But the water rises anyways.
The water rises and Eddie’s resolve diminishes with every inch closer it gets.
The water rises and Buck stumbles through it, creating tidal waves in his wake. It rises and his resolve rises with it. He’s not leaving Eddie here. He’s getting him out before the water rises above his head.
The beam doesn’t move.
The water rises, and the beam doesn’t move, and Buck has to watch as Eddie’s slowly submerged inch by inch. No matter how hard he fights, no matter how they leverage their weights—
The beam. Does. Not. Move.
Eddie coughs, spitting out water. Buck’s holding him by the armpits, trying to pull him out from behind the beam. He thought the water would help dislodge it and give them enough space to pull Eddie free.
But it’s still not. Fucking. Moving.
“Buck,” Eddie says through the water spilling into the corners of his mouth, “you gotta go, man. The water’s rising too fast.”
Buck kicks at the beam, the water forcing a drag and diminishing the strength of it. God damn it. “Even if I could go anywhere,” he grits, because sitting at the surface of the water while Eddie drowns beneath it is not an option, “I’m not leaving you here to die!”
“Chris is going to need you. Theo—”
Buck cuts that thought right there, “You need me! Right now!” Eddie splutters as he lifts his chin out of the water, shaking his head.
His gaze meets Buck’s wet, almost apologetic. “We gotta call it now, Buck. There’s no way I get out of here.”
“There is,” Buck insists, squeezing his eyes shut. He just needs time to think. “We just haven’t found it yet.”
The waters just under Eddie’s cheekbones now with how he’s got his head tilted back. Soon he won’t be able to hold himself above it. He’s not going to be able to breathe. “If we haven’t found it yet, we’re not finding it. Do you really want Theo to lose another parent?”
Buck grabs him by the shoulders, tries to lift him out of the water, just a little more. There’s no give. Any second now he’s going to be fully submerged. “Do you want Chris to?” He asks through gritted teeth.
“You think I want to die here and not make it home to my kid? I don’t have a choice!” Eddie’s anger is laced with anxiety. Buck can practically feel it thrumming through the water: he’s scared.
Eddie Diaz doesn’t get scared.
“Neither do I.”
But Buck does. He’ll be scared for the both of them. Relentlessly determined and undeniably terrified.
Eddie’s eyes dart back and forth between his, his mouth opening to say something, but water rushes in and he splutters as Buck tries to lift him out of it. There’s no give, he’s as far as Buck can pull him.
Eddie tips his head back and meets Buck’s gaze, holding it, pulling in a big breath of air just before the water comes up over his mouth. Water splutters around his nose and Buck knows they have seconds before he’s fully submerged. Eddie grabs at the front of his turnouts and doesn’t blink. He holds Buck’s gaze like looking away means losing something.
Buck’s fingers clench in the fabric bunched up under Eddie’s arms.
The water rises.
And as if it’s not changing the entire trajectory of the rest of their lives, it fully submerges Eddie, and no amount of pulling or stretching will give them more time.
Buck ducks under the water, releases his hold under Eddie’s arm so he can move around and grab the front of his turnouts so he can stay with him. Eddie meets his gaze through the ruddy water, eyes wide as they blink rapidly, he shakes his head again, a shuffle of bubbles coming out from his nose and drifting towards the surface.
No.
Buck won’t let it end like this. He wraps his leg around the crease of Eddie’s and holds on.
Eddie’s brow furrows. His hands fist in the front of Buck’s turnouts. There’s a statement in his grasp, a plea, one that Buck will spend the rest of his life pretending not to understand. He’s not leaving him. Even if it means they both—he can’t leave him here to die. To drown. Alone and afraid.
Buck’s lungs burn with the need for air. If his lungs burn, he can only imagine the fire in Eddie’s chest. Eddie, who’s been struggling to breathe going on five minutes now, struggling to stay above water with how he’s pinned.
Eddie who’s drowning.
Buck looks up towards the surface, to that pocket of air above the ridge. If he could just get him there—
Eddie’s hands push him up, as if Buck doesn’t have a wrought iron grip on him. As if Buck’ll ever let go. Bucks let go of a lot of things, a lot of people in his life. He’s watched more people walk through doorways to never be seen again than he can even begin to count. Eddie will not be the next. He just needs to get him air. If they hadn’t lost the oxygen tanks in the collapse he could give Eddie his air—
Wait.
He looks back to him, squinting through the water and debris. Eddie makes a face, an expression full of remorse and grief and Buck—Buck yanks himself free of him and shoots up for the surface.
They don’t have the tanks.
But that doesn’t mean he can’t give him his air.
He cracks the surface and exhales angrily, the water sloshing all around him, waves crashing over the debris trapping them here. His hair plasters itself to his forehead, tickling his eye as rivulets of water run down his face and back into the makeshift pool below. He inhales as much as his lungs can hold; in, in, in, and dives right back down. Straight to Eddie.
Eddie’s eyes have slipped shut, his hands float motionless in the open water at his sides. Buck swims furiously to him, grabbing one shoulder to steady himself. Eddie’s eyes flicker, tension seeps out of Buck’s shoulders at the sight—good. Good, there’s still time. They can get through this. They will get through this. And Eddie can scream and bitch and moan all he wants on the other side about how reckless Buck is. When he’s alive and safe.
For now, Buck takes hold of Eddie’s jaw with his free hand, holding it towards himself and leveraging himself in. The water guides him home — right into Eddie. Like even the currants trying to take him away know they’ve got nothing on Buck’s determination to keep him here. He presses his mouth to Eddie’s, as if he’s done it a million times before.
He’s kissed a long list of people.
Saved even more.
But he’s never done mouth to mouth like this. It’s against protocol. They have apparatus’ to do that now. Masks to breathe through. Buck’s never pressed his lips to another person's with the sole intent of keeping them alive.
But he does it now. He seals his mouth over Eddie’s, coaxing his lips open with his tongue, and forces all that air into Eddie’s lungs. Holds the seal until he feels Eddie’s hands grab at his shoulders, until his chest pushes up against Buck’s with the force of his surprise.
He’ll apologize later. To Eddie, to himself. To their sons.
For now. He makes sure Eddie’s taken in all the air, waits for his mouth to close around it, and then pulls away, blinking blearily at him through the musty water.
Eddie’s eyes open slowly. Anguished. His eyebrows furrow and Buck can’t say if it’s anger or grief or something in between, but he grabs at the front of Buck’s turnouts like he wants to shake him—like he wants to cling to him and never let go all the while pushing him far, far away.
Buck looks up towards the surface, then meets Eddie’s gaze again. He releases Eddie’s jaw and points to the surface, nodding, before pointing back down to Eddie. Eddie shakes his head, but Buck reaches out and presses his index finger to Eddie’s chest.
I’ll be your air.
Eddie shakes his head again, more adamant. Like hell you will. He thrashes in the water as best he can, being pinned as he is. It’s oddly recognizant of the temper tantrum Theo had before bath time last night. Buck smiles at him, bright and careless, like it’s just another Tuesday and he’s playing his favorite game of Agitating Eddie, before shrugging in a just try and stop me manner and shooting up for the surface to lay claim to more oxygen.
He inhales sharply, suddenly vibrantly aware of the burning in his lungs again. This is going to take a toll if they don’t get rescued soon. He needs to be smart. Two breaths—one for sustainability. Slow and lingering, but not too much, because Eddie’s waiting. Exhales sharply, and then pulls in a bigger breath that fills his lungs to max capacity. This one for Eddie.
And then he dives back down.
Eddie’s watching for him. Furious. Buck can see it in the downward tilt of his mouth, the deepening furrow of his brow. Hell, even the bubbles he expels, the oxygen Buck pushed into his lungs, come out fitful.
He grabs Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie glowers, but anchors them together with a fist in the front of Buck’s turnouts. He pinches Buck’s skin between his knuckles, but Buck pays his anger no mind. He places a hand on the side of Eddie’s neck and raises his eyebrows. Ready?
Eddie’s jaw clenches, but ultimately, he nods.
Buck swoops in and seals their lips together.
Eddie inhales, leaning into Buck, perhaps pushed by the rocking tide of the water surrounding them, perhaps to get a tighter seal. Their teeth clank together, and Buck flinches, pushing back. His head tilts to the side, a drop of water slips between their lips, nearly breaking the seal, his nose smushes against Eddie’s.
It’s as close to a kiss of life as he thinks anyone’s ever gotten.
Buck—
Buck pushes the thought aside and closes his eyes. Lets himself feel the air expand Eddie’s lungs. Holds them together as surely as Eddie inhales.
As utterly devastating as this is—as nerve wracked and pulse poundingly frightened as Buck is. Nothing’s ever felt as simple, as right, as obvious, as giving Eddie his oxygen. Giving Eddie every ounce of air he’s got in him. He’ll do it for the rest of their lives, if he has. Even beyond today. He’ll breathe for Eddie every second of every hour of every day and never complain if it means they get out of here.
Eddie closes his mouth beneath Buck’s, and Buck pulls back to blink down at him. The two of them bob silently in the water, eyes dancing back and forth between one another. Something shifts in Eddie’s expression, and Buck squeezes his shoulder. I’ve got you. A bubble slips out from between Eddie’s lips, and Buck moves to head for the surface again.
Eddie grabs his wrist before he can go, though. Holds him there.
Buck frowns. Tilts his head. Eddie’s chin tilts down, a subtle shake. He squeezes Buck’s wrist with meaning.
Gently, Buck reaches up and pries Eddie’s fingers from around his wrist. Pretends not to read the intention in Eddie’s eyes. It’s a nice try, but it won’t last. Don’t wear yourself out. Let me go.
People have given up on Eddie. His mother, his father, even Shannon. Things get hard and they give up on understanding him. And Eddie gets left in the wake of the emotional blowout, wearing his heart like a battered bruise that won’t go away. He pokes and prods at it until it turns to scar tissue. Until there’s nothing left to bruise. But Buck knows that bruise is still there under the surface. That it aches every day. That he pokes and pokes and pokes at it because he feels he deserves the pain. Deserves the punishment.
Deserves the suffering. Never the joy. The moments in between. The survival.
All he’s ever seen is the chaos. He doesn’t see his worth. The ways he makes people's lives better for having been in them. He gets on Buck for never seeing his own worth, his own value, but Eddie’s just as bad as he is. Because at the end of the day, the same thought that flits through Buck’s, piledrives through Eddie:
I don’t deserve to be the one who survives.
But he’s wrong.
If Buck has to survive, so does Eddie.
If one of them makes it out of this building and home to their children, Buck will make sure it’s Eddie. Not just because Chris deserves for his father to walk through their front door in the morning, not just because Eddie’s an irreplaceable firefighter and medic. But because he deserves to have someone fight for him the way he fights for everyone else. Because he deserves to breathe without fearing the consequences.
Buck holds his hand for a moment, meeting Eddie’s eyes.
Hold on. I’m not giving up and you’re not allowed to, either.
He sets his jaw. Holds Eddie’s gaze — see it, believe it, accept it.
Finally, Eddie nods, and Buck shoots for the surface again, lungs screaming for oxygen as the swim gets longer each time he takes it the higher the water rises. He heaves in a breath, the air coming in a fitful wheeze, and exhales with an angry hack of a cough. His vision goes hazy, dizzy with the need for oxygen. He can’t stay under that long again. Not if they’re going to be here a while.
When they get out of here he’s taking diving lessons.
He inhales, closes his eyes, and dives back down below the surface.
He’s going to weight train harder, too. He should’ve been able to lift the beam off of him. He should be strong enough. If he hadn’t hurt his leg earlier this year—if he’d been smart, careful, diligent, they wouldn’t be here. Eddie would be in the air pocket with him and they’d just have to wait the team out.
He swims to Eddie, and Eddie reaches for him willfully, dragging him in by his forearms, and pressing his mouth to Buck’s. He doesn’t open his mouth right away, just presses their lips together intently, like he needs the support and the warmth. His hands settle on either side of Buck’s jaw, like he’s cradling it, like Buck’s the one on the brink of death and Eddie’s memorizing him in case it all goes wrong.
Buck eases his mouth open, breathes against the seam of his lips. It’s not going wrong. They’re surviving this.
Eddie’s lips part, and the air goes sweeping out of Buck’s lungs and into Eddie’s.
Buck closes his eyes. Maybe it’s Eddie’s lips on his, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen, but Buck’s world tips upside down and rights itself in one discombobulating moment. He holds tight to Eddie through it, determined to see this through.
Once Eddie has all the air, he closes his mouth and pulls away. He opens his eyes slowly, and releases Buck’s jaw to grab hold of Buck’s forearms to pull him back in. Buck goes easily, lets himself be guided into Eddie’s chest, urged by the ebb of the water and Eddie’s steady hold. Eddie releases a bubble of air between them, and tilts his chin down. His eyes slip shut and he gently touches his forehead to Buck’s, resting his weight on him.
It’s as much a thank you as it’s a you’re a fucking idiot and I’ll tell you as much later.
They bob with the water, but otherwise remain motionless, tied together. Buck’s air sitting in Eddie’s lungs, Eddie’s skin cold against Buck’s.
When Buck’s lungs start to ache, he pulls away.
Eddie watches him go — blinking through the water up at him, mouth pinched together. Buck keeps his eyes on him, too, until he breaks through the surfaces and drags in a big gulp of air and then immediately dips back down to go right back to him. Eddie tracks him, as if he watched him bob above the water and waited for him to come back down.
This time, when Buck swims to him, they meet in the middle, lip to lip. Force from either side dragging them into each other. Eddie opens under him without resistance, and all the air eases out of Buck into him. Buck clings to the front of his turnouts, revels in the rise of his chest pushing the water out from between them.
Any other scenario he might lose his mind over the contact. Eddie’s lips slipping over his. He’d call Maddie, she’d say something along the lines of it wouldn’t be so crazy and Buck would have to sit there and rectify how he feels with Eddie’s straight and pretend the entire world hasn’t turned upside down.
Right now—
Right now he pulls away and nods at Eddie. Eddie nods back at him. And Buck swims back to the surface and takes a big clumsy breath that aches. It burns going down, and he spends a second longer between breaths than he should, before diving back down and pressing his lips to Eddie’s again.
Right now there’s no room for panic or it wouldn’t be so crazy or thinking about how soft Eddie’s lips are or how strong his hands are.
Right now there’s life and there’s death and Buck’s determination to stay firmly on one side of that door.
Eddie blinks at him when he pulls away, his brows furrowing. His hand fists in the front of Buck’s turnouts and holds him there. Buck frowns, and he shakes his head. He’s not trying to get Buck to let him go. He pulls him closer, and Buck goes easily as Eddie releases his turnouts and winds his arms around him, hugging him so tightly that it’d squeeze all the air out of Buck’s lungs if he had any.
Thank you.
He’s saying thank you.
Buck would be lying if he says he doesn’t feel the I don’t deserve it buried in the hands trembling against his spine to partner it, though. He winds his arms around Eddie, squeezes him back, careful not to force any air from his lungs. Holds him tightly, wishes he could tell him you do, you do, you do. But there are no words underwater. There’s only survival.
He pulls away, squeezes Eddie’s shoulder and looks up towards the surface.
He hates this part. He knows he’ll come back, he knows he’s only going to the surface to gather Eddie’s next breath, but Eddie’s stuck here, with no option but to watch him go. No certainty that Buck’ll come back. He glances back down towards him, squinting through the water. Eddie squeezes his waist and pushes at him.
Go, the movement says. He smiles, close-lipped and devastated, nodding as he expels the bubbles of Buck’s oxygen, and that says, I’ll be here when you get back.
A joke or a swear, Buck doesn’t know.
He just swims.
And he breathes.
And as long as he does both, so will Eddie.
He’s not sure how long they’ve been at it when his limbs start to grow heavy, the dizziness starts to bleed into the moments between inhale and exhale or when Eddie’s eyelids start drooping. When the ache in his ribs is less future issue and more present and pressing. When rising to the surface hurts as much as going back down. When Eddie’s gaze starts going concerned and slightly far away—he just knows they don’t have long left. If the team can’t get to them soon, his bodies going to give out on him, and their sons will lose them both.
Two wills without a backup plan.
Shows how far ahead they think things through.
Buck pulls back from Eddie, holding his shoulder and tilting his head to the side, a quiet, alive?
Nodding, Eddie reaches up, his movements slow and sluggish even with the assistance of the water, and squeezes Buck’s forearm.
Alive.
Buck starts to nod, but something cuts through the water—a glare of light. His gaze jerks up to the surface, then back to Eddie. He holds up a finger, a frantic hold on, and then pushes himself for the surface.
He breaks the surface tension and inhales, gasping desperately like a fish out of water, and sees a hole in the debris for the first time since the building came down on them.
“Hey!” He screams, voice hoarse. “We’re down here! We’re down here!” The scream scratches its way up his throat, like claws dragging their way out desperate for something to catch onto. He treads in the water, waits for a beat for a response, but can’t risk waiting any longer because Eddie’s waiting for him.
He tries to spot someone through the rubble, through the tiny gap proving they’re coming for them, but there’s no movement and there’s no time.
He inhales, grimacing as the air clings to the scratchiness in his throat and dives back down for Eddie.
Eddie looks at him inquisitively.
Buck reaches out, taps out the only Morse code he remembers: three short taps, three long taps that he’s not even sure are long enough because how do you know the difference between a long tap and short tap? Three more short taps.
He makes a face at Eddie, shrugging. And points up to the surface.
SOS.
They’re coming.
No idea how long it’ll take.
Eddie nods, squeezes Buck’s wrist.
And then Buck gives him his air.
He doesn’t linger once he’s exhaled it all into Eddie’s lungs. He squeezes Eddie’s arms in a silent I’ll be back and then swims back to the surface, gasping, reaching for the debris to hold himself above the water.
“Hey!” He screams. “We’re down here! Firefighter down!” Desperation clings to every syllable. He screams so loud the echo against the fallen debris is almost deafening. “Please!”
Please save him.
Please.
Please.
There’s no sound from above. No indication anyone’s heard him.
He inhales and dives back down.
He doesn’t waste any time when he seals his mouth over Eddie’s. Stays with him just long enough to give him air and then shoots back to the surface, ducking under the debris and clinging to crackling concrete to try and leverage his way closer to the hole letting in sunlight. His chest heaves, and he tries not to feel guilty about being able to breathe so freely with Eddie down there holding his breath, but it’s hard not to when he inhales for a third time above water.
“We’re down here!” He screams with all the excess air. He doesn’t deserve to be the one up here. He has to make it worth it. They have to both get out of here. “Can anyone hear me!”
Rock crackles overhead, dust skitters down over him. Pebbles of destruction crash into the water with dollops of tension. Buck watches through narrowed eyes, squinting to avoid dust in the eyes.
Please.
Please.
The sky cracks open with a roar of noise and tumbling debris.
He needs to stay to tell them where he is, but he’s running out of time.
He watches for life beyond the opening in the rubble for another moment before inhaling with a desperate shake of his head and diving back under the surface. Eddie’s eyes widen at the sight of him, like he’d thought this was the round Buck didn’t make it back in time, and Buck rushes towards him, dragging himself through the water and sealing his mouth over Eddie’s.
Eddie gasps into him—takes the air greedily and buries it in his lungs. Fingers claw and scrape and cling to the front of Buck’s turnouts.
They need to be found. He pulls away once Eddie’s taken all the oxygen, grabs him by the side of the jaw and forces him to look at him.
Eddie nods, lips sealed in a tight line, and motions towards the surface with his chin.
Go.
Buck shakes his head. Eddie’s not going to last much longer down here. He can see it in the exhaustion lining his face—the slow flutter of his lashes. He’s not convinced that if he climbs to the surface Eddie’ll still be here when he returns. Physically, obviously, but in every way that matters?
Eddie pushes him away. Puts a hand over his mouth like a promise.
He’ll fight. So long as Buck fights, he’ll fight.
That’s all Buck needs.
He releases him and twists to head for the surface. If Eddie can fight, Buck can fight for him. They’ll get out of here. No matter how tired his limbs get, or how heavy the turnouts grow, or how hard it is to keep swimming. He bursts out through the surface, gasping for air and scrambling for purchase against one of the fallen beams, he ducks his head towards the beam of sunlight shining down on them from the outside.
“We’re in here!” He screams, his voice hoarse and crackling. “Firefighters Buckley and Diaz! We’re alive! Can anybody hear me?”
Pebbles tumble over the side of the hole in the sky.
Buck holds his breath.
He has to go back under.
Come on. Someone. Anyone. Come on.
A helmeted head appears above the hole, blocking out the sun as the most beautiful silhouette of a miracle Buck’s ever seen.
“Buck?” Chimney’s voice calls. “Is that you?”
“Chim!” His voice cuts through the flooded basement, addled with panic. “I—I have to go back under! St—stay there!”
“What? Buck—“
But Buck’s already taking in a big gulp of air and diving back underwater. Eddie watches his approach, doesn’t even blink before they bring their lips together and he inhales all he can from Buck. Buck pulls back as soon as he seals his mouth shut and points to the surface with a thumbs up.
They’re coming.
Eddie nods, mirroring the thumbs up.
Buck looks at him for another beat and then heads back to the surface, feet flailing in the water and arms stroking wide and angry until he crashes through the surface tension with another gasp.
“Buck?”
“Cap, I—it’s Eddie. He’s pinned. I’m doing—I—we can’t do this much longer.”
A beat of silence, and then, tentatively, Chim asks, “Pinned how?”
“There’s a beam, he can’t get out from under it. No—no sign of a crush injury. He just can’t pull free.”
Hen’s voice joins Chimney's. “Is he conscious?”
“I—yeah, but—“ he hesitates.
“But what?”
“He can’t breathe.”
No time. There’s no time. He needs to go back under.
A long pause. “Because of the beam?”
Buck shakes his head, letting go of the rubble. “No.”
“Then—“
“Because he’s underwater.”
He takes a big breath and then ducks back below the surface to give Eddie another minute.
They exchange air and a quick, furtive glance, and Buck heads back to the surface. Tries not to think of the tired purse of Eddie’s lips, or the way his body ebbs with the water, like he’s already gone.
“Buck!”
“Sorry,” Buck gulps air greedily, spluttering past the water trying to follow after it. “Sorry, I—I had to take him air.”
“You—“ Hen cuts herself off.
Chim picks up the sentence for her, “You’re breathing for him?”
“Best as I can, cap.”
“Jesus.”
“We’re coming, Buck. Just. Hold tight.”
Buck nods, though he doubts they can see it, and then takes another big breath and heads under water.
Safety is so close. Eddie’s getting out of here.
Once he reaches him he taps out SOS on his arm again, nodding. Eddie’s brow furrows and he echoes the nod, but it comes slower, tepid and tired. Buck leans in and seals their mouths together. Eddie’s mouth doesn’t open right away, it’s slow to cooperate, and his intake isn’t as greedy as it’s been. He’s tiring out. His body can’t do this much longer. He needs to breathe on his own.
His mouth closes beneath Buck’s and Buck pulls away, cupping either side of his face.
Hold on, he mouths.
Just a little longer.
Eddie blinks owlishly, and Buck looks to the surface just as that beam of light disappears and they’re enveloped in the dark once more. Buck blinks blearily up into the black water above, releasing Eddie to swim up towards it. It’s the team. It has to be. They got through.
He twists to grin down at Eddie—
Eddie’s eyes go wide and he jolts towards him, arms outstretched as all the air Buck just sunk into his lungs comes bubbling out of him in a gurgled scream that he thinks is meant to be Buck’s name.
Something crashes into Buck’s back, knocking him down towards the ground. He sucks in a shocked breath, dragging in mouthfuls of water he can’t cough up. And for the second time today, as he twists in search of Eddie, darkness sweeps in from the corners of his vision until there’s nothing left.
He sinks down into the nothingness until he becomes one with it.