Chapter Text
Eddie would like to state for the record that he tried, okay? He really did. From the moment he realised that confronting Buck was just making him retreat into himself more, he tried backing off. He acted normal, pretended he believed him every time he stated how okay he was. While it was through clenched teeth, he respected Buck’s need for space, his desire to deal with his trauma alone in the hopes he would eventually come to him like he always used to. He hated every minute of it and by week three they were basically two actors trying out daily improv. Not a real conversation took place between them. He watched from the side lines as his best friend became someone he didn’t recognise, his mental health steadily growing worse until the front he wore like battle armour wasn’t simply being chipped away at, but shredded to pieces.
Of course Buck refused to acknowledge it was happening. He carried on acting like a fool, a force of nature completely unbothered by anything he faced. He told jokes, made light out of dark moments, did his job with increased vigor. To the untrained eye he was fine. Except Eddie was trained. He noticed how he rushed through his sentences in the hope no one would hear the tremble in his voice. He noticed him spending less and less time in common areas and even avoiding interactions on calls when he could. He deferred to others when asked for an opinion. Wouldn’t join them for team outings. Stopped cooking meals. Stopped Baking. Stopped doing anything and everything he once loved.
The day Eddie saw his facade drop, was the day he vowed to find a way to help him, whether he wanted his help or not. Knowing someone is putting on an act is one thing, seeing the shell they are left in and the despair in their eyes when they think they are alone, is something else. As Buck locks himself in a stall, struggling to latch the door, it takes everything Eddie is made out of not to break it down.
That night he calls Frank, starts coming up with some sort of plan.
The next day, he implements it.
Buck sits rocking on the edge of his couch, his hands clutched together under his chin, his elbows digging into his knees.
“I’m Buck.” He whispers as the silence tells him otherwise. “I’m Buck. I’m Buck.”
He was Buck and that meant he was okay. He couldn’t call Bobby to confirm but he told him he would be so that had to be true. He wasn’t Derek, those people who claimed he was, were locked up. That meant Eddie was safe and Chris hadn’t lost his father. These were the facts he clung too. The things that were supposed to calm his racing heart when the pills didn’t quite do their job right.
He stands, he paces, he repeats.
It doesn’t help, he just gets more and more worked up.
He was alone and nothing felt right.
It was easy for him to ignore that unease when he was surrounded by his team, while he was doing his job and had people relying on him to save them. Without that, the thoughts inside his head become too loud, too impossible to ignore.
He knew if he told someone how badly he was struggling that they would rally around him, but that was the last thing he wanted to happen. Everyone’s lives were going so well. Hen had her health back, the kids were all flourishing, he was a mentor to Harry. Even Athena was having more good days than bad. How could he throw his darkness at their door and ruin that for them? He always bounced back, he would again.
It was just taking longer this time.
He hears a bag and rushes to his window, keeps himself to one side as he peers through the blinds into the unknown. His hair is sticking up on the back of his neck, a cold sweat is breaking out across his forehead, yet the only danger he sees is someone picking up a trashcan that had rolled into the street. Still he checks and checks again, just in case Eddie has turned up unannounced and is lying bleeding on the ground somewhere.
A part of him recognises that fear is irrational and yet, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened… it was almost not the second either.
It’s not like he hasn’t considered opening up to someone. Every time he tries though he remembers Eddie’s speech about the chain of command. Followed by Chimney’s insistence if there was something wrong with him like there was Hen, he’d fire him in a heartbeat. Together they keep his resolve to stay quiet, strong. Stronger than the part of him that wants to drop to his knees and beg someone to take his pain away. Pain that had been steadily growing since the moment Bobby had sealed himself in that lab to die.
Eddie had said he feared the man he knew had been left in New Mexico, but the truth was he had vanished the moment Bobby’s heart had stopped beating. It was why he goaded those guys in Nashville the way he did, absolutely consumed with the need to prove he was worthy of his Captain's faith. It was why he and Eddie kept fighting, it was why his sister had gone with ‘Nash’ for her baby’s nickname, because she noticed he couldn’t bring himself to call him ‘Bobby’.
What he said to Bonnie when he was begging for his life was true, he didn’t know who he was any more.
Registering that the hum he can hear is actually his phone ringing, he takes a deep breath and tears himself from the window.
“Buck thank god-” Eddie heaves as soon as the call connects. Before Buck can issue any one of his rehearsed reassurances that he’s fine, his friend pushes on. “-I really need your help with something. Are you free?” For a beat, he doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. “Buck you there?”
“Ugh, Yeah. I’m- I’m here. And I’m free. Is everything okay? Is it - Is it Chris?” He presses his hand into his chest, willing his heart to stop racing. It’s so loud he is afraid the mic will pick it up. It even drowns out Eddie’s voice, so all he hears is the tail end of his reply, which is:
“... he left his science project at his friend's house last night.”
“Oh?” He doesn’t remember him mentioning having a project at their last dinner, but then again Buck doesn’t remember a lot of his conversations these days.
“It’s due today and worth 40% of his final grade.”
“Okay, so what can I do?” The phrase comes out sharper than he intends. It's supposed to be an offer of help, not a biting remark. Though if Eddie notices, he doesn’t question it.
“Any chance you can go get it? Jeremy’s mom works downtown and has taken it to her office. I’m supposed to collect it on her lunch break but I was helping my cousin out with something and there is no way I’m making it there for half one now.”
Buck glances at his watch uncertainly. It was going to cut it close even for him and he wasn’t exactly going very many places at the moment. “I-”
Eddie must hear his hesitance. “Yeah I know, too much. Don’t even worry about it, I’ll figure something else out, you have enough on your plate…”
His heckles rise. “No, no I can do it. Just send me the address.”
“You sure??”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” Eddie had been treating him like glass for weeks now, maybe this was the way to stop him worrying so much.
“Thanks Buck. What would I do without ya. I’ll tell her to expect you.”
They hang up and for a moment he remains perfectly still, simply staring at his phone screen. When the number on the clock app starts to change, he forces himself to look for his keys. A quick glance at his reflection when he passes a mirror has him scurrying into his bedroom to look for something to wear that he hasn’t slept in. He wets his hand and runs it through his curls too for good measure. It in all honesty doesn’t improve his appearance by much, but he does hope it's enough of a difference to stop Mrs Carlton from banning the kids from being friends.
Once the address is programmed into his maps he heads out the door. He barely makes it outside before he is turning around and marching back to where his backpack is. He searches it desperately, bypassing the anti-depressants as he looks for the orange bottle that contains his Xanax tablets. He tips them onto his hand and swallows them dry. His doctor was starting to talk about reducing his dosage, worried about the addictive properties of keeping him on them long term. He doesn’t want to think about how he will manage without them.
It doesn’t take him long really to park up and find the building. If he wasn’t so anxious he may have paid more attention to his surroundings and realised where he was heading. Unfortunately for him, he simply follows the directions Eddie sent through, noticing little between the street entrance and the reception desk on the floor he wants.
The woman at the computer, glances over the rim of her glasses as he enters. “May I help you?”
“Yeah -I'm here to see Mrs Carlton, I’m a friend of Eddie’s. Eddie Diaz. She’s expecting me.”
Fingers tap away on a keyboard. “Of course, just head down to the last door on the left.”
He thanks her and does just that. Having been taught manners, he gives a brief knock before poking his head through.
“Hi?”
“Mr Buckley come in, come in!” He slips inside, trying to immediately school his expression when his eyes land on her. Families of course come in all shapes and sizes these days but someone of her advanced age having a young teenager wasn’t what he was expecting. “Take a seat.”
The couch that she indicates too makes the room feel warm and welcoming. In his job he has been to all sorts of offices, but he can’t remember one that had floral pillows. He pops himself in the far corner and waits.
She waits too.
He’s not entirely sure for what?
His eyes travel around the room, taking in the artwork on the walls. All in pastel colours. Patterns rather than pictures. He didn’t ask what she did for a living but he imagines it's stressful if this was what she surrounded herself with.
“Did you paint these?” He finds himself asking, fascinated by one to his left. The clouds almost look like they are coming off the paper.
“I did. We all need a bit of a side hobby.”
He rubs his hands down his thighs. “They are really good.”
“Thank you. Tell you what, why don’t we start with something simple. Help you feel a bit more comfortable here”
His eyebrows draw together. “Uh. Sure?”
“How long have you known Eddie?” The tension drops from his shoulders, because even in his current mental state, Eddie is the one topic of conversation he never shies away from- and really it makes sense for her to ask! He is someone who could potentially spend a lot of time around her son should the boys become closer, of course she was going to wanna know a little bit more about them both.
Or their entire history once he really gets started.
….
Yeah…It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realise what’s actually going on.
“EDMUNDO RAMON DIAZ.” Eddie flinches at the use of his full name out of habit rather than any actual fear. Every eye in the station turns his way.
“What did you do?” Hen asks, her voice full of suspicion.
“I say we don’t stick around to find out.” Harry replies. Everyone is apparently in complete agreement because as soon as Buck appears at the top of the stairs, chairs scrape across the hardwood floor and multiple bodies vacate the loft like a herd of panicked elephants. Even Chimney who has no idea the cause and as Captain is supposed to get involved in disagreements between his subordinates, scurries out of the storm's path.
“Cowards.” Eddie mutters under his breath, continuing to make their coffees like there isn’t a raging wolf coming towards him. One that is ready to take a chunk out of his nearest limb. “Morning Buck.”
“Don’t you ‘morning’ me, what were you thinking?” He seethes. Eddie supposes the feel of spit against his cheek isn’t meant to fill him with relief, but it’s been a while since Buck expressed a single negative emotion. A win is a win no matter what ugly thing it’s wrapped up in, right?
“About what?” He replies, feigning ignorance. He reaches for the creamer, putting into Buck’s mug a hefty amount that has always made his teeth want to rot.
“You know what! I told you I was handling things my way, that I didn’t want to give this situation any more attention than it already had and you just- just completely disregarded that!” He steps further into Eddie’s space. “You can not trick someone into therapy.”
“Turns out you can.” He calmly slides Buck’s drink towards him and takes a sip of his own. “If you're expecting an apology here you're not going to get one.
Buck’s arms fly out into the air, narrowingly missing the mug. “This is none of your business Eddie!”
“Actually it is. Because while you think burying your head in the sand and hoping it all goes away is going to work, I know differently.” In fact he had lived through the consequences of doing that himself twice now. “And I care way too damn much about you Buck to watch this destroy you. So you can yell and you can scream and you can hate my guts for a while if you need to, but guess what, It’s not going to make me stop. I’m not going anywhere.”
He can hear every single puff of air that leaves Buck’s flaring nostrils. On a normal day there would be conversations happening all around them even if it amounted to nothing but distant whispers. Today you could hear a pin drop, everyone obviously eavesdropping from somewhere. Not that they had to put much effort into it. Buck’s voice was echoing around the entire station. “I wish you would.”
“That’s okay. I can take it.”
Eventually Buck closes his eyes and blows out his frustrations. He leans back onto the counter top and studies Eddie hard.
“I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever hate you.” He admits.
Eddie takes another sip.
“That might be the most honest thing you’ve said to anyone in a while. But it is good to know.” Because he has a funny feeling things are going to get worse before they get better.
Buck doesn’t acknowledge the statement, he does however reach for the peace offering when Eddie pushes it closer to him.That’s the thing with them, their arguments are loud, but the heat never lasts long.
“Came pretty close last night though.”
Eddie hums. “I bet you did. That’s okay I deserved it. If it helps, I didn’t just open the phone book and pick a name at random. Frank highly recommended her. She specialises in trauma.” He had tried for doctor Copeland first, someone Buck already trusted, but she had apparently taken early retirement. “You booked your next appointment yet?”
“What makes you think I didn’t just walk out?”
“Because you're yelling at me today and not last night.” Breaking down a wall was never pretty. There was no doubt in his mind the second the hour was up and he didn’t hear from Buck, that the therapist had handed him a sledgehammer and together they had dislodged something raw. It took everything he had not to go around there and check on him. Not to ask if he could just hold him for a while. Exist in his pain instead of on the outskirts of it. “Listen to me Buck. If you don’t want to talk to me about any of this, you don’t have to. I hate it but I will respect it. What I won't do is sit back and let you spin out until you have fallen so far into your own mind that you can’t crawl back out of it. My kid and I won't survive losing you.”
“You’re- You’re not going to lose me Eddie.” Buck replies, the rest of his anger, falling away until that awful concealed expression is back.
“Except we already are! Look, I’ve been here before. I’ve lost people from this before. I know the signs and you're showing every single one of them.” Buck swallows and looks away from him, unable to maintain eye contact. Eddie can’t bring himself to give up. He reaches out and grips at his arm for just a second. “I paid for 8 sessions and she will take you longer if-.”
Eyes shoot back to his.“-Wait why would you waste-”
Eddie cuts him off too, by slamming his drink down on the counter so hard the cutlery laid out to dry, dances. “It’s not a waste! Don’t you get it, you're worth every penny to me Buck. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us. I'm begging you.”
For one terrifying moment he thinks Buck is going to say no, double down and shove everything into a box that at the moment is barely strong enough to hold an additional paper clip. Thankfully he knows him well enough to see the defeat before he voices it. “Fine. Whatever. It’s your money man.”
And he would pay it ten fold if it brought his Buck back to him.
—-----
Eddie shows up to his place one week later, a few hours before Buck’s next appointment. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Buck to go, he just knows he’s going to have a really hard time physically making himself. He lets him know he is on his way, knocks and sits down on his porch once he arrives. He sends another text to make sure Buck knows he isn't going anywhere and follows that up with a reassurance he can take his time to come out.
They have time. It’s why he is so early.
Forty five minutes after that, Buck opens the door to a fraction, just enough so he can see out. Eddie doesn’t speak, doesn’t acknowledge him at all. He simply turns the page and purses his lips at the headline that next catches his attention.
It works a treat. The door scratches as it’s opened wider. “You know if I don’t want to go, your presence here isn’t really going to change that right?”
Eddie slowly folds the paper and gets to his feet. “I could carry you.”
Buck snorts, though it's deprived of any real amusement. “Like to see you try.”
Eddie takes a step forward, rolling his shoulders, letting his confidence shine through. Suddenly Buck isn’t as certain as he was before. “A few years back, I made myself a promise to always be able to bench press your weight. You can get in the car or I can throw you in it. It’s your choice, Buckley.”
The Buck of a year ago would have gotten a kick out of that, would have pushed and teased and dared him with a sparkle in his eyes, a cocky grip on his belt. This one doesn’t have it in him to try any of that. He simply goes back inside, leaving the door ajar. Eddie follows him briefly, watching as he quickly zips the small pocket of his bag up and grabs his coat.
Unfortunately for him, he doesn't zip it fast enough for Eddie not to clock the pill bottles.
It’s like the floor is swept out right out from under him.
He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to remember, he doesn’t want to dive into feelings that drown him from the inside out. Even the mention of New Mexico sends a ripple of panic through Buck so strong it takes away his ability to breathe, to form thoughts, to remember that in that moment he is safe and loved. He hides further and further behind his mask because he doesn’t want to appear fragile again, even if a small breeze could shatter him to his bones. Fragile Buck had people talking behind his back, hiding things from him, had Eddie making plans to leave whilst being too scared to tell him.
He can’t be that man in their eyes again. He has to be who Bobby saw him as because if he’s not, then he has let a man’s dying wish die with him.
He goes to every dinner invitation, only letting the darkness pull him in when he closes his front door. His doctors called him in to review his prescriptions and he practically collapsed on their floor at the thought of surviving without the back up they provided. The numbness that meant he could get out of bed every day. His dependency on them was starting to scare him if he was truly honest, but the doctor listens to him and extends them one more time. That does not come without conditions, he has to up his therapy sessions, read through leaflets and follow links to resources that can help with his anxiety attacks.
None of it does, not really. Not enough.
At least his ECG results were finally improving. Turns out after surviving getting struck by lightning and then getting zapped with cattle prods could cause arrhythmias, who knew?
His sister, Eddie, Hen, Chim, probably. He is kinda surprised none of them have questioned his physical health. Although people other than Eddie are starting to give him weird looks now and he can’t figure out a way to make them stop. Apparently he doesn’t know how to be normal anymore. Or what normal for him even is.
What he does know, is he wants them all to turn away, to leave him behind. To let him rot in the pit he has created for himself. To not remind him that he exists outside of the firefighting bubble. He can’t exist because then he would have to acknowledge what he did. The choice he made.
He shivers, the memory of himself tied to a beam, on that dirty barn floor, haunts him, playing as an endless loop in his mind. No one knows what happened, he was too ashamed to tell them when he heard Eddie’s voice, instead of screaming for help, he gave up fighting to go home to them. It eats away at him. It doesn’t matter that he did it so Eddie could make it back to Chris. That he thought it was that or Eddie would lose his life. The fact remains he was willing to never see any of them again. Willing to let himself be abused and ultimately murdered, leave his loved ones in limbo over what happened to him for the rest of their lives.
He never knew he could be so cruel.
They deserved better.
What would Bobby think if he could see him now, if he learnt what he had done?
He curls in on himself, hoping it helps hold him together. What he wouldn’t give for the man’s advice right now. He misses him. He misses him so freaking much.
—---
The call was awful, stripping him of whatever ability he had to keep his facade in place. The victims have been extracted, it’s over, everyone is on their way to the hospital, he is supposed to be helping with the clean up, instead Buck is around the back of a nearby building, leaning one hand on the wall as the other desperately clutches at his chest. Bobby, the kid had been called Bobby, someone had been screaming for Bobby. Another begging them to save Bobby. He wishes he could have, he wishes he could have done something, anything differently.
He coughs and he spits and he chokes on his own snot. He can’t move, he can’t breathe. It’s like he is being electrocuted all over again. Black spots dance in his vision, the wall warps and he thinks this is it. This is the moment his heart gives out. Where he finally gets to see his father figure again. He looks up, seeing a blurry figure approaching and for a split second he thinks it’s him.
Only he is shorter, leaner than he remembers. Suddenly he is being manhandled.
“I got you. I got you.” The voice is distorted, under water almost, but only one person grips his shoulder like that, only two fingers touch his pulse point so gently. Counts each beat as if they matter more than anything else in their vicinity.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah. You got your pills on you?” It’s the wrong thing to ask, his chest clenches and his lungs stop working entirely. Eddie knows? How does Eddie know? How long has he known? And does that mean he knows about the rest of it too? His knees feel weak, too weak to support him. He’s going down and he’s going to lose his job and be stuck with nothing but his own thoughts for the rest of his short little life. The hand on his neck goes to his nearest pocket when he’s unable to say a word. Then every one of his pockets after that, he is patted down, like a criminal. He wants to tell him he doesn’t bring them on calls. That this crap doesn't usually affect him on calls. He’s not that much of a liability, he’s not putting any one of them in danger, but he can’t speak. “Idiot. Okay. You're safe. Everything’s going to be okay. Turn around and look at me. Breathe with me.”
He shakes his head. Can’t
“Yes you can, you can do anything you put your mind to Buck. Especially this.” There are more words, he is sure of it, Eddie keeps talking, keeps a grip on him so he doesn’t slide down to the floor. He hears something about Jello but he can’t picture what Eddie is describing, his body is tight and rigid and done. It’s fucking done. He’s done. He’s done! He wants to see Bobby, talk to Bobby, where the hell was Bobby?
“-Please Buck.” His eyes find Eddie’s of their own accord. Those brown orbits are begging him, pleading with him to try, to keep fighting, to listen to him one more time. “Please.”
The tremble in his voice has him responding in seconds.
He nods, suddenly willing to try in a way he wasn’t before. He continues to stare into Eddie’s eyes and sucks in a breath. Somehow he gets a little air. Exhaling is harder, but he manages to do that too. He keeps managing it, until he is rasping out the things he can see, hear, smell, one word for everything Eddie requests from him. When it comes to touch, there is only one thing he can possibly say. “You.”
Because Eddie is there. Eddie’s hand is right there above his heart, with another now around the back of his neck. A steadying presence keeping him tethered to earth and the here and now.
“Eddie?” It’s Hen’s voice, he can hear her footsteps, the crunch of stones under her heavy boots.
Eddie doesn’t even hesitate in calling back. “We need a minute. Stay there.”
Miraculously she listens.
He’s never been more grateful not to been seen by a member of his team.
–--
He is the one to tell Chimney he needs to go home. For once he doesn’t even hesitate to do so either, there is an exhaustion set so deep in his bones that even putting one foot in front of the other feels impossible. Like he has weights chained to him that he has to drag along.
He’s not even surprised when the uber drops him off to see Pepa on his door step. A bag of groceries in her hand. After all, who else was Eddie going to call? Maddie was working.
“Eddie told me to expect some push back, but I’m not going to get it, am I carino?”
He doesn’t know why but he shakes his head. He eats her soup, allows her to wrap him in blankets, and doesn’t even protest when she runs him a bath. He justifies it to himself by saying Eddie would only leave work if he kicked her out, and he needs the money… but somewhere deep down, he knows that’s not the real reason he caves.
“Do you want me to put your pajamas in the dryer so they are nice and warm for when you get out?”
“...Yes please.”
—---------------------------------