Archive of Our Own

Theo wants ice cream for dinner.

Theo is a chaotic, hyperactive, bundle-of-adorable-energy child, who has been chaotic and hyperactive, and energetic all day, and he wants ice cream for dinner.

That’s a hard no.

To be fair, he did have ice cream already today. After lunch. Eddie’s nothing if not fair.

Theo had wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Buck had used a small star-shaped cookie cutter to make three star-shaped peanut butter and jelly pieces out of the sandwich, and then he ate the ice cream. Chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, which he licked and slurped and bit. It made a brown, sticky-sweet mess of his brand new dinosaur t-shirt, not to mention his face, his hands, a little bit of his neck, and - interestingly enough - his left knee.

Instead of outright saying, “No” - a word that Theo doesn’t like - unsurprisingly, since his father also doesn’t like the word - Eddie smiles at him and says, “It’s not dinner time yet, bud.”

Theo’s on the living room floor, cross-legged next to the coffee table, clanking two toy firetrucks together. A wildlife documentary plays as soft white noise in the background. Theo looks at Eddie, sitting on the couch next to Buck, and gives a slight, curious head tilt. “When is dinner time? I’m hungry.”

He takes the one second to ask the question, then bangs the trucks together again, making a booming noise.

Eddie turns to Buck for the answer to that question.

Buck, arms stretched out on the back of the couch, head lolling to the side faced toward Eddie, is fast asleep. His mouth’s open and he’s breathing quiet, gentle breaths.

Eddie can’t help but smile fondly. Buck’s been struggling to sleep for days. Theo makes him exhausted as hell, but when Buck finally puts Theo to bed and lays down on his own, Buck’s mind races. He thinks about what he’s doing right, what he’s doing wrong, whether he should formally adopt Theo, whether he’ll be good at being a dad -

Eddie knows, because Buck’s called him practically every night. Not that Eddie minds. He loves when Buck calls. Buck needs him. And Eddie’s happy to be needed. He’s happy to give advice to his best friend and he’s happy to encourage him and lift his spirits and tell him that, yes, he should adopt Theo, because he’s already been a good dad - there’s no one that Eddie trusts more with his own son -

It’s been three weeks since Buck started fostering Theo. Three weeks since Eddie had showed up for a shift at the firehouse, surprised that Buck wasn’t there, and called Buck, frantic that he was sick or that he was depressed or - and this is a horrible thought, Eddie knows - had found some pills - and Buck had answered the phone and said, “Come over after your shift, before you go home. I gotta show you something.”

The something was Theo running in circles around Buck’s backyard, a plane in his hands, shrieking and giggling to himself, clothes stained with grass and mud-spattered.

At the sight of him, and the nervous grin on Buck’s face, something inside Eddie had cracked open. He still couldn’t name the feeling. Or maybe he just didn’t want to give the feeling a name. Didn’t want to look at it long enough to do that.

Eddie had tried, at first, to give Buck space. To let him work out the whole fostering Theo thing on his own. To let them bond. But the space plan didn’t really work. Eddie’s been over to Buck’s so much more than usual, with and without Christopher.

Christopher loves Theo. And Theo loves Christopher. Buck fled the room when the two of them met for the first time - when Eddie brought Chris over to Buck’s the next day for dinner - and Chris’ mouth gaped open, looking from Buck to Theo to Buck to Theo, and then he extended his arms for a hug. When Eddie found Buck in the bathroom, moments after the hug, Buck was wiping furiously at his eyes and saying, “They’re just so cute, Eddie. I’m just so happy.”

Eddie loves Theo, too. And Theo definitely loves Eddie. Eddie is, without a doubt, Theo’s favorite person. Eddie’s not sure how or why he’s earned this title, but Theo lights up like a Christmas tree whenever he sees Eddie, his megawatt smile taking up his whole face. Theo calls Eddie “my best friend” and “my Eddie.”

The first, and second, and third, and even fourth time Buck heard these endearments? He cried, too.

Theo loves when Eddie chases him in the backyard. Theo loves when Eddie gets on his old-man knees and pretends to be a horse while he screams, “Yee-haw!” at the top of his scratchy child lungs. Theo loves when Eddie plays with legos or toy trucks or when Eddie does anything, really. And he loves to grab Eddie’s fingers with his small hand and drag him around everywhere, the same way some kids cling to a favorite blanket.

Speaking of blankets, Buck needs one. He’s only in a t-shirt and thin joggers, and he runs cold, so he needs a blanket.

“Ice cream for dinner! Ice cream for dinner!” Theo declares loudly, punctuating each word with a smash of the firetruck toys.

Eddie puts a finger to his lips. “Theo, shhh. Buck’s sleeping. We don’t wanna wake him.”

Theo’s eyes widen as he glances from Eddie to Buck. He clearly had not noticed. His fingers twitch on the trucks, as if he’s physically restraining himself from clacking them. “We don’t wanna wake him!” he repeats loudly.

Eddie extends his hand to Theo and whispers, “Let’s go get him a blanket.”

“Let’s go get him a blanket!” Theo declares just as loudly.

Buck lets out a loud, crackly snore.

Eddie bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Theo grabs Eddie’s hand, squeezing tightly with his slightly clammy palm. Eddie guides him to the hall closet and takes out a fluffy throw. They walk back to Buck, who’s snoring even more loudly now, and drape the blanket over him, still holding hands. Theo hums the whole time.

Eddie stares at Buck, takes in his endearing snores and his stubbled face and his wild curly hair, and his heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Eddie!” says Theo, tugging his arm - hard.

Eddie puts a finger to his lips again. “Yeah, bud?”

“Can we play hide and seek? I can be quiet with hide and seek!”

And oh.

Eddie knows Theo can be quiet with hide and seek.

It’s remarkable.

Theo’s all buzzing energy - constantly moving limbs and making noises - but he takes hide and seek very seriously. Theo had been living with Buck for four days when they played hide and seek for the first time. Eddie was expecting it to be over quickly - that he’d count to ten and find Theo in two seconds flat, because he’d let loose a giggle or he’d be unable to stay still for that long.

Eddie was not expecting that he would not be able to find Theo.

Eddie was not expecting his thought, Huh, well, he’s good at hiding, to turn into a slightly panicked, I should really know the layout of this house better, I really hope he didn’t go outside, we should have set some ground rules to a full-fledged panic, Ohmygod I’ve lost him, I’ve lost Theo, Theo is gone, why would I let him out of my sight, we literally found him on a power pole chasing a balloon, Ohmygod what if he’s hurt somewhere, Buck is gonna kill me.

“Theo! Theo, you can stop hiding now! Theo!”

Eddie finally found him.

In the washing machine, the door - thankfully, thankfully, thankfully - not closed all the way.

“What,” Eddie breathed, “are you doing in here?”

Theo laughed heartily as he climbed out. “I win!”

“You can’t hide in the washing machine, Theo. It’s not safe. And when I tell you to stop hiding, you have to listen. You have to come out.”

Theo scrunched up his face. “But then I don’t win.”

And Eddie was at a complete loss for how to describe to a four-year-old that sometimes, you just have to listen, and sometimes, you just have to take things seriously, and sometimes, you just have to follow the chain of command…

Theo grasped the medal necklace around his neck and spun it. And spun it. And spun it.

Which gave Eddie an idea.

“Eddie!!!”

Theo stomps his foot and he’s loud and Eddie’s snapped out of his thoughts and looks immediately to Buck, still knocked out on the couch. Drool’s starting to gather in Buck’s still-open mouth. Theo makes a high-pitched noise, “Eeeeee!” and Eddie looks back at him. He’s demanding an answer to his question.

“We’ll do hide and seek later,” Eddie promises. “Right now, we’re gonna go out, let Buck sleep. We’ll pick up dinner on the way. Go put on your shoes.”

Theo’s turbulent expression at being ignored is erased from his face as he nods excitedly and jumps up and down a little. “Chris? What about Chris? Chris, Chris, Chris.”

Eddie nods. “I’ll go ask him, Spiderman.”

“Go ask Superman,” Theo agrees, and Eddie points to Theo’s shoes, redirecting him, and quickly paces to Chris’ bedroom, trying to keep an eye on Theo at the same time.

Eddie knocks and enters. Chris is at his desk, headphones on, game on the computer. He reveals one ear and stares at Eddie, raises his eyebrows. “We’re gonna head to the mall. I need to replace my phone” - the one that Theo absolutely, albeit accidentally, broke this morning - “and we’ll hit some of the kid areas. Wanna come?”

Chris shakes his head. “I just started this game.”

“Okay, mijo. We’ll be back soon. Text me if there’s something you want for dinner. Buck’s asleep on the couch.”

“‘Kay,” Chris says, covering his ears with the headphones again and turning his attention back to his game.

There’s a thumping sound from the living room. Theo’s trying to complete the final slide of his heel into his shoe by kicking his foot against the wall.

Buck, miraculously, is still sleeping. Snoring even louder than before.

Eddie helps Theo with his shoes, gives Buck a final, fond look before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him.

*

They go to the 3rd floor. They entered from the 1st floor - purposeful, because Eddie wants Theo to walk around as much as possible - and walked up the curling staircase in the middle of the floor, which, when they reach the third floor, lands them right outside of the Apple store. The arcade room is located on the other side. And if Eddie remembers correctly, there’s a kiddie play area, complete with complicated jungle gym and a ball pit, near the end of the strip, right next to the Nordstrom’s anchor store.

Nordstrom’s, which conveniently has a cafe, where Eddie can grab a coffee after all this is done, because Theo’s energy might be depleted, but Eddie’s most certainly will not, and even though it’s a late afternoon on a Sunday, he’d love a non-Hildy created cup of coffee.

Theo, who tried to climb Eddie like a monkey as they ascended the swirling stairs, switches gears. He grips Eddie’s hand tightly and swings their arms forward and backward and forward and background. “Look, bud,” says Eddie, pointing to the arcade room, and Theo lets out an excited noise, drops Eddie’s hand, and flies toward the entrance.

“Theo, wait up, buddy. Stop right there.”

Theo does. He listens. He stops and whirls backward to look at Eddie impatiently, the hurry up, hurry up obvious in his eyes. He looks like he’s scrunching his toes inside his shoes to physically keep still.

Eddie nears him, puts his hands on his shoulders, and walks him inside.

Time flies by. Theo’s giggling and shrieking and jumping from game to game, breathless with excitement. Eddie helps Theo with the gear shifts on the car games and slotting coins into machines. Eddie doesn’t need to help Theo at all with Whack-a-Mole, which he plays with more spirit than Eddie’s ever seen, although his target-whack ratio is severely low.

When they start the NBA basketball hoops game, Theo is locked in. Eddie smiles fondly. Theo has these moments where his attention flies around, unable to keep focus on one, sustained thought or activity - but sometimes, sometimes, he finds one thing that demands his fixation, and that’s it - he’s completely and utterly focused.

Just like Buck.

Right now, it’s basketball.

Unlike Buck.

Buck hates basketball.

Eddie smiles to himself. He can’t wait to give him shit about this later. Eddie puts the ball in Theo’s hands, shows him BEEF. “First, you gotta have balance in how you’re standing. Right foot a little bit forward. Eyes. Look at your target, bud, where you want the ball to go. The rim. Elbow. It’s gotta be in a little, aligned with your right knee. Yep. Follow through.” Eddie models for Theo, demonstrates how your arm moves when you shoot the ball, the flop of your wrist.

Theo mimics.

Well.

Theo hurls the ball, sans all the instruction Eddie gave him, and it goes nowhere near the hoop.

Eddie laughs. “Okay, buddy.”

*

Theo does not want to go to the Apple store. He’s very loudly insistent about this, so much so that other patrons in the arcade look their way with judgemental looks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” says Eddie, crouching to Theo’s level, looking at him right in the eye. “We just played games for a long time. Now I have to run an errand. Then we’ll go to the play place, okay?”

“And then ice cream for dinner?” Theo dips his chin, look up at Eddie with a toothy grin and sparkly eyes.

Eddie huffs. “Real dinner, kid.”

Theo pouts.

“Look. This’ll be a mission, okay?”

Theo un-pouts real quick and a hand automatically goes to the medal around his neck. “A mission?!”

“Yep. You have to be good at the Apple store. Stick by my side. No climbing. No touching. And… quiet.”

“Until the mission’s complete,” Theo nods seriously.

“Until the mission’s complete.”

They go to the Apple store. And, Eddie, like Theo, does not want to be in the Apple store. Eddie hates the Apple store. Hates technology in general. Well, hate is a strong word. He’s indifferent to it. Doesn’t see the purpose. Theo will not be an ipad kid if Eddie has anything to say about it. Which. Eddie doesn’t really have a say about it - he’s not Theo’s dad - Buck is Theo’s dad -

“Can I help you, sir?” says a salesperson, a young woman in her 20s with black, spiky hair and a warm smile. A name tag says Ashley.

Eddie smiles back and produces his phone from his back pocket. She takes it, whistling at the cracked screen. Then she looks at Theo, like she knows he’s the one responsible.

Theo, who, desperate not to touch anything around him, has rolled up the sleeve of Eddie’s flannel all the way to his elbow, and is rubbing his forearm. “Hairy, hairy, hairy,” Theo whispers to himself.

“So,” Eddie says to Ashley, who’s looking at Theo like he’s the cutest, weirdest child she’s ever seen, “can you fix it?”

She shakes her head. This phone is beyond repair.

“We can get you the upgrade - the newest one - ”

Eddie shakes his head as she points out the latest iphone poster, and Eddie really doesn’t care.  Why do phones need so many upgrades? As long as it calls and texts, it’s served its purpose. Yes, it’s nice to have photos. It’s nice to have Facetime. And the internet. But Eddie doesn’t need an upgrade every five seconds.


“Can I just get the same exact one?”

“Sure,” she smiles warmly and walks away.

Eddie takes the beat to look around the store. There are only a handful of people here. Ashley, the only employee on the floor, which is why she hasn’t come back to Eddie yet. An elderly man wearing a faded baseball cap, looking down at his phone in confusion - to which Eddie sympathizes completely; a woman probably mid-thirties with bright red hair and a happy expression; two teenaged girls looking at the model items on the floor. An abnormally few people for an Apple store, Eddie must admit, but it’s nearly 5:00 and the mall closes at 6:00. Eddie hopes replacing his phone won’t take too long, because he still wants to fit in time at the play place. Then dinner. Then back to Chris and Buck.

Buck. Eddie wonders if Buck is still sleeping, open-mouthed and soft, on the couch.

Eddie feels a stinging.

He looks down at Theo, who’s just pulled a hair from Eddie’s forearm.

Okay. Theo is cute, but maybe that is a little weird. Theo is probably cutest, weirdest child Eddie’s ever met, wildly curious and adventurous and big-hearted and - Eddie will defend him always, because he’s Eddie’s child and -

Oh.

Oh, what the fuck? Oh. Oh, no. Theo is not Eddie’s child. Eddie doesn’t know where the hell that came from. Theo is Buck’s child. Buck’s, Buck’s, Buck’s. Not Eddie’s.

And - technically, legally - Theo isn’t even Buck’s child. Buck hasn’t adopted Theo yet. Buck is fostering Theo. Eddie can’t have these kinds of thoughts. They’re dangerous.

And now there’s an uncomfortable feeling in Eddie’s chest.

Something that’s sidled in, like an injection of liquid anxiety into his veins, and then turns into solid stone right in his sternum. Weight. Lodged there. He brings up a hand to rub the area.  

“Eddie!” Theo whispers loudly, yanking his arm.

It’s an unusually hard yank. Eddie looks down at him, brow furrowed. “What - ”

He follows the line of Theo’s finger to the front of the entrance. Four men wearing ski masks, dark clothing, and backpacks have entered the store with purpose… and guns.

Guns. Great.

“Everyone down on the ground!”

Eddie pulls Theo with him as he drops to his knees. Everyone else in the store follows suit.

“We don’t want to hurt you!” declares the tallest man, waving around his Glock in a way that, honestly, seems to contradict his statement.

He makes his way to the store counter while two of the men stand in the center of the store, making sure everyone is on the ground and showing their hands, and while the last man stands guard at the store entrance.

The tall man nods at one of the middle-men. “Zip-ties and phones,” he says, sounding almost bored.

One of the middle-men - this one has long, dark hair that goes past his shoulders - takes off his backpack, pulls out zip ties, and starts going around from person to person, and the other middle-man - this one is broad and short - flexes his fingers around his gun.

“What are they doing?!” Theo questions loudly, so loudly, that everyone turns to stare at him. The short man’s eyes widen a little.

“Shh, honey,” whispers Eddie in Theo’s ear. “The mission’s not complete yet. You gotta stay quiet. And do exactly what I say.”

“Okay,” Theo whispers back.

Eddie’s terrified. The weight lodged in his chest has shifted to complete and utter panic. His skin is hot. His eyes are burning. There was once a time when he’d say, I do not panic, but even that was a lie. Eddie panics a lot, actually. But he’s been taught how to manage it, how to make himself Jello, how to bring himself back to reality.

But this reality is what’s panic-inducing, and he can’t Jello himself out of this one.

Because he’s not scared for himself. Eddie’s killed men before. More than four at a time. Eddie’s, objectively, been in worse situations than this. Eddie’s been shot and stabbed and buried.

But he’s never been in a situation like this, with a four-year-old who means the world to him, a four-year-old who’s Buck’s son.

If he was by himself, he’d take these morons down in an instant. Well, maybe not in an instant - not with the guns - but he’d be able to defeat them eventually. Eddie has also had it pointed out to him fairly recently that he has a bit of a death wish - which he denies -

But that’s besides the point. The point is that, now, with a store of civilians and the cutest, weirdest, Spiderman-loving mini-Buck at his side, he can’t take down anyone. He has to be calm. Has to be patient. Has to just wait for it all to be over. Because nothing can happen to Theo.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat.

And then he shuts everything else down, locks it away, so that he can focus. And catalogue.

Tall man at the store counter, pulling Ashley to a standing position, asking her if she’s the manager. Tall. Guy with long hair currently putting zip-ties on the teenage girls, on their wrists and ankles as silent tears stream down their faces. Long. The other guy, still flexing his fingers on the gun - and Eddie can’t tell if he’s potentially trigger-happy or just a little scared - Short. The last guy, at the entrance, staring resolutely outside, not paying attention to the happenings inside the store - Eddie notes that kind of focus could be to his own advantage - who kind of looks like a bouncer - Wide.

Long approaches Eddie and Theo last.

Shoves the backpack in front of Eddie and grunts, “Phone.”

Eddie shakes his head, raising the hand that Theo’s not holding. “Don’t have one.”

“Now!”

Eddie fights the roil of annoyance, tries to keep his tone even. “Don’t have one. Mine broke. It’s why we’re here, man.”

Long eyes him suspiciously. Jams the gun barrel into Eddie’s shoulder and orders him to stand. Then he roughly starts to pat Eddie down, stretching out his arms. When Long’s hands skim down his sides and back pockets, Eddie huffs out, “Take me to dinner first.”

Short lets out a tiny chuckle.

Long does not find the comment amusing. He jerks back his hands from Eddie like he’s been burned. Then raises a hand to Eddie, like he’s going to cuff him upside the head for being a smartass - but before he can do it -

Theo kicks him in the shin.

Before Long can react, Eddie steps directly in front of Theo, blocking him from sight. He lifts his chin, stares at the guy defiantly. Eddie hopes it conveys the Try me, motherfucker that’s firing across his mind.

Because - yes, the strategy here is to remain calm, to remain patient, to wait - but if pushed, Eddie will fucking destroy these men.

Long seems to understand this. “On the ground,” he commands with hardly any menace, and Eddie complies.

Long zip-ties his hands first. Then his feet.

Movement at the front of the store catches Eddie’s attention. Ashley’s opening the cash registers, handing Tall the money with shaking hands, and he’s stuffing it into his backpack, telling her to hurry up.

Eddie winces at Long draws his zip-tie tightly, digging into the tender skin.

Theo’s behind Eddie, crouched on his knees, and he’s buried his face into Eddie’s shoulder blades, like his momentary bravery gave way to fear and now he’s trying to stay small and invisible.

Long reaches for Theo.

“Hey, hey, man,” Eddie pleads. “He’s four. What’s he gonna do?”

Long gives Eddie a Really?! sort of look and grabs Theo anyway. Zip-ties his hands, with - Eddie must admit - a gentleness that was sorely lacking when he zip-tied Eddie. He looks at Theo’s feet debatingly, and then stands up.

Eddie breathes a small sigh of relief through his nostrils.

Long left Theo’s feet free.

The same feet that just kicked him.

Kind.

But not smart.

Long also notably didn’t search Eddie’s front pockets - not after Eddie’s smartass comment, which had maybe been his intention after all - and, instead of zip-tying everyone’s hands behind their backs, he zip-tied them in the front -

Amateur.

Amateurs, plural, perhaps.

This whole thing seems rather dumb.

And Eddie knows that there’s money here. It’s the Apple store. There are a handful of stores in a mall that make a lot of money - jewelry stores, big department stores - but a lot of malls have centralized safes. But this one - and this store - apparently has its own safe, somewhere in the back, and it’s close to closing time -

Tall’s leading Ashley to the backroom of the store, probably headed to the safe, the barrel of his gun pressed into her back. He beckons for Short to follow.

“Eddie,” says Theo grumpily, wringing his hands, “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither, bud,” says Eddie, assessing.

Assessing because, yes, he had decided just minutes ago that he was going to stay calm and patient and wait for all of this to be over, but it seems like a poorly planned operation, and these guys seem a bit soft, and there’s only two of them in front of Eddie at the moment - he could maybe do something.

A phone ring startles him from his thoughts.

Long, who’s pacing now in the middle of the store, answers it. “What? … Yeah, how are you doing? … Got it … Yeah, Nathan’s in the back now … ” He turns his back to Eddie, now facing the front of the store.

Eddie closes his eyes and releases another sigh.

Nathan? That’s Tall’s real name? How stupid are these guys, to just name drop each other in the middle of a robbery?

Yeah, Eddie’s confident that he can do something. He can get away with it.

Eddie thinks of Buck sleeping on the couch and Chris playing video games. He looks at Theo next to him, leaned into his side, head resting on his shoulder.

They’re going home.

*

Eddie has big hands.

Big hands and long fingers.

Shannon used to giggle sometimes, when he’d hold her face in his hands, because she always said it made her feel so small. This was apparently a good thing. Shannon, and Ana, and Marisol had all made comments about his hands and his fingers - all suggestive, and blushy, and pleased - and Eddie rolled his eyes each time.

Once, Buck called his hands, “Silver Star” hands and that nearly killed him.

All of this to say that it’s relatively easy for Eddie to shift his hands downward, despite the ziptie, and stretch his fingers to reach into his left front pocket. He lifts out his keys quietly and carefully, and maneuvers his pocketknife.

Now. He could free himself of the ziptie another way. But that way would require movement that would draw attention and Eddie’s purposefully trying not to do that. He’s trying to be subtle.

“Shhh,” he says to Theo, who notices the pocketknife. “Stay quiet, okay?”

With nimble fingers, he uses the knife to cut his ziptie. Wrists. Feet.

Then Theo’s.

Both Long and Wide’s still have their backs turned to him, facing in opposite directions.

“Theo,” Eddie whispers, and the little boy looks up at him, eyes wide with excitement, “I need you to hide under there” - he points to the ipad display table, a couple feet away - “until I tell you to come out.”

Theo nods.

“Theo,” Eddie says his name again seriously, “the mission.”

Theo nods, pressing a finger to his lips in understanding. Then he bites his lip hard, balling his hands into fists. Eddie knows it’s taking everything this kid has inside of him to be quiet.

“Count of three silent fingers,” says Eddie, holding up three fingers, then putting them down.

One. He holds up one finger.

Two. Another.

Three. The last one.

Theo scampers to hide under the table while Eddie runs to Wide at the store entrance. Wide has no chance to react, no chance to even whimper, when Eddie comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his neck, and squeezes. Wide’s face swells and purples and then he’s out - Eddie lays his crumpled body on the floor gently and takes his gun.

And Long is still talking on the phone.

The teenage girls, the elderly man, the redhead - have all gotten the memo. They don’t make a fucking sound.

“Ya’ll almost done?” Long says.

And then Long doesn’t say anything, because Eddie enacts the whole thing again. Gets him in the chokehold, squeezing his windpipe - and his hands come up to claw at Eddie’s forearms - and then he slumps against him.

Eddie takes the gun, puts it in the back waistband of his jeans. Holds the phone up to his ear.

“Yeah, man, we’re almost done at Tiffany’s.”

Eddie hangs up the call. Dials 911.

“Theo, come out!” he whispers, waving his hands at him.

“911, what is your emergency?”

Theo runs over to Eddie.

Eddie relays the basic details. Name of the mall. Store. Robbery. How many robbers. How many civilians.

They’re sending the police.

Eddie’s whispering to everyone else in the room about how to remove the zipties from their hands. Draw the ziptie super tight. Swift, downward movement.

Then he cuts into the zipties around the redhead’s feet. “What’s your name?”

“Maria,” she says shakily.

“Maria, I’m Eddie. And this is Theo. I need you to take him and go.” He presses the phone into her palm. “Stay on the line with 911. Don’t hang up. But go.”

Maria gets up on unsteady feet.

“Go with Maria, buddy,” Eddie encourages Theo, who’s shaking his head vehemently from side to side. He crosses his arms stubbornly.

We don’t have time for this right now, Eddie thinks. He gets back on his knees, places his hands on Theo’s shoulders. “Look at me, bud.”

Theo’s gaze goes to the right and the left - Eddie chases his gaze with his own eyes - he has to do this with Buck, too, when Buck’s being difficult and won’t look at him -

His gaze finally lands on Eddie, all turbulent and pouty. “I wanna stay with you,” he whines.

The sound of it automatically makes Eddie’s eyes water with tears.

Ridiculous, the way this boy has climbed into his fucking soul.

“Theo,” Eddie clears his throat, putting on his most serious voice. “I’m your commanding officer. The mission’s still going on. You have to follow orders, remember?”

Theo’s lip trembles.

Eddie taps the medal necklace.

“You do a good job, soldier, and you’ll win a medal.”

The lip tremble turns into a small, watery smile.

Eddie kisses him on the forehead.

“Now, go.”

Eddie stands back up, beckons everyone to the front of the store, waves them out, commanding them to leave. They usher out - so quickly and so quietly it’s a miracle - Maria’s got Theo’s hand in hers and the phone to ear -

But Eddie can’t leave.

There’s a sound from the backroom, a cry coming from Ashley, and Eddie’s heart pounds frantically, and he can hear it pounding in his ears. He clicks off the safety of the Glock in his hands. Moves to the front of the store. Takes a breath before -

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Eddie whirls around at the new voice, the new presence -

It dawns on him entirely too late.

“Yeah, how are you doing?”

“Ya’ll almost done?”

“We’re almost done at Tiffany’s.”

There were other stores.

There were other robbers.

And now they’re here.

Three new guys in ski masks are in the Apple store, looking at the incapacitated bodies on the floor.

Eddie’s gun is already up, but it’s no deterrent to them, because it’s three to one -

They all lift their guns to him at once -

Oh, shit.

- and then, at his neck, there’s a hint of metal, followed by a hard crack against the back of his skull that knocks him forward, makes him sway woozily back and forth -

Eddie drops to his knees right before his vision blacks out.

*

Buck’s telling Eddie that he lost Christopher to the waves.

Eddie feels lost to the waves himself.

If his son is gone, Eddie’s dead. Eddie’s drowned. Eddie will not survive.

Eddie doesn’t blame Buck. This is a natural disaster. Buck did everything he could. Buck fought for Chris. Buck loves Chris.

And Eddie loves Buck.

But that doesn’t matter, because Eddie’s dead.

There is no world for Eddie if Christopher’s not in it.

There’s a hand on his face, smoothing sweaty hair from his brow.

Eddie blinks awake.

His head pulses with pain.

When he moves to sit up, he’s overcome with nausea.

“Are you okay?” asks a nervous voice.

It’s Ashley, he sees through slightly blurred vision. She’s looking at him wide-eyed, biting her nails.

Eddie touches the back of his head and winces. Not only does it hurt like a bitch, it’s wet. Eddie examines his fingers to confirm that, yes, it’s blood. Great.

“I think I have a concussion,” Eddie admits. “What’s going on?”

Eddie takes in his surroundings.

All five guys - Tall and Short, plus the three new ones - Eddie doesn’t have the mental capacity to give them code names - are huddled together at the storefront counter. Wide and along are still knocked out on the floor. Eddie and Ashley are seated against the wall, just a couple feet away.

Eddie notices with horror that they’ve removed their ski masks.

That’s never a good sign.

And Tall’s on the phone, red-faced and pissed.

Eddie’s phone.

“It was on the counter,” Ashley tells him. “The police called the store phone. They talked to somebody for, like, a minute, and then hung up. And then someone called your phone. The cracked one you brought in today. Kept calling over and over and over. And he picked up, and he’s been talking to her for a few minutes now.”

“Her?”

“Detective Grant, I think?” Ashley removes her thumb from her mouth, examines the blood that’s pooling at her cuticle. “Do you know her?”

“She’s a friend,” Eddie says, relieved. So they know. The police know. Athena knows. All the people who were in the store got to safety. Theo got to safety. Everything’s going to be fine.

Eddie exhales shakily, resting his throbbing head against the wall and allowing his eyes to flutter closed. Tears are forming underneath the closed lids, and he lets one or two escape in sheer relief.

“I think some of the other robbers got arrested,” Ashley continues. “They fled the mall and ran right into the police. And I think the police know who these guys are.” She waves a scoffing hand in their direction.

That would explain the removal of the ski masks.

“I think they’ve been trying to arrange how the hell they’re going to get out of here,” Ashley surmises. “Something about a helipad.”

Tall suddenly turns to face them. He absorbs the fact that Eddie’s awake, and his eyes narrow. He stalks over to them and shoves the phone into Eddie’s hands. “She wants to talk to you,” he growls, putting the call on speaker.

Eddie sighs.

Great. The robbers know who he is, and that he’s friendly with the cops, one in particular.

That’s also not a good sign.

As he takes the phone from Tall, or Nathan, he checks the time. It’s nearly 8:30. Jesus. How long was he out?

“Athena,” he says deadpan into the phone. “Having a good day so far?”

“Don’t start with me, Eddie Diaz,” she says, all business. “How are you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he says, despite the new wave of nausea hitting him. “And neither is Ashley. The woman with me.”

“Okay,” says Athena, relieved. “I needed to check.”

“And now you’ve checked,” Nathan sneers. “And I’m still waiting on my helicopter.”

“I already told you, Nathan,” says Athena calmly, with the patience of a saint, “that’s going to take time.”

“That’s what you said an hour ago, Sergeant Grant. And I’m getting impatient. And, right now, your pretty boy’s uninjured, but he won’t stay that way for long unless I get what I want.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“We’re working on it,” Athena promises.

Nathan starts to move away from Eddie.

Eddie, seized with desperation, calls out, “Athena! Athena! I - my package - my package - ” and he hopes to God she gets what he’s saying, “ - is my package secure?!”

Athena’s silence tells Eddie all he needs to know.

His insides are crushed.

Cement, poured out across his body, hardening over his limbs, through him, suffocating him from the inside out, crushing him beneath the weight.

“We received four packages from your store,” Athena says. “Your package hasn’t been received. Yet.” Her voice is steeled determination.

Nathan hangs up the phone.

Eddie’s vision is completely blurred.

It’s the concussion and it’s the silent tears streaming down his face.

Where is Theo?

Eddie’s drowning again.

*

Eddie wants to let the tiredness overwhelm him. He wants to sink beneath the waves. He lost Theo. He lost Theo.

Why isn’t Theo with the police? What happened? He was with Maria. Did she let go of his hand? Did he get lost? Did they find him? What if other robbers have him, and they’re holding him as a hostage?

“Eddie,” Ashley says, shaking his shoulders, “you have to stay awake. You have a concussion.”

“I know,” Eddie snaps.

If Theo’s hurt, if Theo’s… gone, what will Buck think? What will Buck do? How will their friendship survive? How will Buck survive?

Eddie doesn’t think he would.

What will Chris think? He’d never be able to look Eddie in the eye again. Another person that Christopher loves… gone.

Eddie wipes his eyes, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes, his head, his stomach. Everything hurts. Everything assaults his senses.

Eddie wants to die.

But - this is not over. This is not done. Eddie’s not done. Eddie can’t fall, or break, or surrender. Not yet.

“What… what time is it?” Eddie asks, throat raw with emotion.

Ashley glances at her watch. “9:10.”

Eddie looks back at Nathan. At Short. At Long and Wide, who have stirred from unconsciousness now. At all the other guys. Some look on edge. Some look bored. Their guns are holstered. The backpacks, filled with cash - and, Eddie now notices as he surveys the area - all the electronics on the floor - are at their feet, waiting to be hoisted away and out of the mall.

Nathan is livid.

He’s on the phone again. “Sergeant, this phone is dying.”

There’s a landline at the front of the store, Eddie thinks. There’s other phones, and chargers, everywhere. They’re in a freaking Apple store.

These robbers are all dumbasses.

“My patience is dying,” Nathan continues. “Actually, it’s dead. You’re not taking my request seriously. You’re leaving me with little choice.”

Nathan charges over to Eddie and Ashley and pulls out his gun. Points it right at Eddie. Puts the phone on speaker.

“Woah, hey man!” The other robbers run over, holding their hands up, trying to placate Nathan, telling him, “What are you doing?” And “You don’t have to shoot him” and “We didn’t sign up for this!”

“Stand up!” Nathan yells at Eddie.

Eddie glares at him. “No.”

There’s no point in hiding his defiance now.

Theo’s not here to protect.

And Eddie realizes, with stunning clarity, Theo’s not being held by any of these guys. All the ones who remain in the mall are here, stupid and clustered together. They already know that Theo’s gone - Long would have noticed, Theo kicked him earlier - and they don’t have him.

The police don’t have him, but the bad guys don’t have him, either. Hell, maybe he’s out chasing a balloon somewhere.

He’s safe. Theo’s safe.

Chris is safe. Buck is safe.

Buck will take care of both of them.

Buck’s a great dad.

Eddie loves that Buck’s a great dad.

Eddie grunts in pain when Long seizes him by the collar and lifts him to standing, then shoves him into the wall. Fuck, it hurts. His whole body feels like it’s pulsing.

“I’m gonna kill him, Athena,” Nathan spits into the phone. “I’m gonna kill pretty boy, here, because you won’t listen.”

“Do you think she’ll get you a helicopter if you’ve killed a hostage?!” Ashley exclaims from her seat on the floor. “Especially one that’s her friend?”

And - Eddie appreciates that she’s standing up for him - but it’s the wrong thing to do.

Nathan shifts his attention to Ashley. Appraises her. Looks her up and down, and Eddie can see when the nasty glint takes over his gaze.

Nathan ends the call with Athena, sticks the phone in his back pocket.

“You’re right, aren’t you?” he says smoothly, his voice a deadly calm that Eddie feels in his spine.

Nathan tucks his gun into his waistband and yanks Ashley up from the ground. “Well, since the helicopter’s not here yet, and we’re just sitting on our asses waiting, guess we’ll have to do something else to pass the time.”

One of the guys snickers.

Short looks panicked.

Long looks sick.

Ashley looks terrified.

Eddie’s rage fills him, rage that’s been dormant for a long, fucking time, rage that had to be worked out in an underground fighting ring, and rage that had to be suppressed because it was so destructive.

It punches out of him, unable to be contained.

The second Nathan starts to move away, Eddie lunges forward and grabs the Glock. Aims at his knee. Shoots. He crumples with a cry. Eddie slams the gun against his head.

Eddie spins to the face the others, who are caught off guard.

They reach for their own weapons.

Eddie aims in line order.

One guy Eddie didn’t name. Shoots him in the knee.

Wide. Who’s already been incapacitated by Eddie today. Knee. Shoots.

Another guy Eddie didn’t name. Knee. Shoots.

Ashley’s screaming.

Short. Knee. Shoots. 

It all takes less than thirty seconds.

Another guy Eddie didn’t name. Eddie aims, but this one lunges at Eddie - maybe too stupid to actually reach for his gun - and Eddie strikes. Hits him in the neck. He goes down quick. Embarrassingly quick.

Long.

Fucking Long.

Long, who zip-tied Eddie and Theo but had the decency not to tie Theo all the way, even though Theo kicked the hell out of his shin. Long, who’s also already been incapacitated by Eddie today, who didn’t care about Nathan potentially killing Eddie, but who had the decency to look sickened by the thought of Nathan assaulting Ashley.

He’s sans ski-mask now, and his green eyes are wide, and he looks maybe about 19-years-old.

Their guns are pointed at each other.

A stand off.

Eddie’s heart pounds. His head pounds. The air around him pounds.

“You don’t have to do this, man,” Eddie says. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You can let us go.”

Eddie’s phone rings.

“Answer it,” Eddie tells Ashley.

She crawls over to Nathan, out cold on the floor, and slips it from his back pocket, puts the phone back on speaker.

“Nathan,” says Athena’s stern voice. “Your helicopter is here. Don’t hurt any of the hostages.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt him!” cries another voice from the phone.

Eddie’s heart seizes in his chest.

His heart knows that voice anywhere. Knows it when it’s happily chirping facts and did you knows. Knows it when it’s wheezing and breathless from laughter. Knows it’s slow roll and slight stutter. Knows when it’s light, you and that chain of command, and when it’s dark, you don’t think I did everything I could to save him?

Eddie wills his heart to keep beating.

“See?” says Eddie, trembling. “Helicopter’s here. You can just… go. And you can let us go.”

The sound around Eddie seems to amplify, then. Ashley’s shaky breaths. The moaning and groaning of the other robbers on the floor, clutching their knees, panting, crying. The commotion Eddie can hear through the phone, teams assembled outside, mobilized.

Long starts to lower his gun.

Eddie starts to lower his.

Nathan stirs on the floor, and he comes to with a vengeance. “What the fuck, Terry!”

And it’s a second too late for Eddie to react the way he wants to.

Long twitches his gun upwards.

Eddie, gripped by reflex, instinct, self-preservation - shoots.

Thigh. I hit his thigh, he’ll need a tourniquet, is what Eddie processes before Long pulls his own trigger.

His vision goes black again.

*

Eddie comes to a few seconds later.

Ashley’s stomping around the group of them, all laid out, shot and bleeding on the floor, and she’s wildly gathering up all the guns. And she’s running, kind of frantically, to the trash can, depositing the guns, one by one.

And Ashley might have… stomped… on Nathan’s face, because his nose looks broken and there’s red and purple bruising on his cheeks, blood streaking his face.

She’s cursing like a sailor, and Eddie might smile if he had the energy to do so.

There’s excruciating pain in his side.

Because he’s been shot.

Again.

This is the fifth time.

In the Army, he’d been hit in the shoulder, the wrist, the leg. In the street, he’d been hit in the other shoulder. And now, in the fucking Apple store - Eddie hates the Apple store - he’s hit in the abdomen, not even an inch from where he was stabbed a couple months ago.

“What - what’s going on?!” demands Buck’s voice from the phone.

Ashley has the phone in her hands. She looks like she’s completely forgotten about it. Eddie would tell her to answer Buck, talk to Athena, if he had any strength.

He doesn’t have any strength.

“Hey! Hey! Eddie! Eddie, are you - ”

The phone cuts out.

Dies.

Eddie groans. He groans and grunts as he removes his flannel, as he lifts up his white t-shirt soaked red, as he bunches up the flannel and pushes it into his wound, trying to hold pressure.

Ashley’s next to him now, leaning over him. One gun, not deposited into the trash can, is at her feet. “Are you okay?” she asks.

He looks from her over to Long, who’s completely unconscious and bleeding more rapidly than Eddie is. “Take off your belt,” he tells her.

“W-what?”

“Take off your belt. I’m… I’m gonna walk you through a tourniquet for Long… for - for Terry.”

“What?” Ashley says again, understanding dawning. “No, no, no way.”

Unfortunately, that’s all the discussion they have about the matter, because the one guy - the one who Eddie didn’t name, the one who lunged at Eddie, the only one who hasn’t been shot - quickly wakes up, assesses his surroundings, and immediately lunges toward Eddie.

Ashley blocks him - and, again, Eddie appreciates that she keeps trying to stand up for him - but this is the wrong move -

The asshole backhands the hell out of her, and she slumps backward.

“Hey!” Eddie yells. “It’s over! It’s over! Your helicopter is here. Just go.”

The guy reaches for the gun at Ashley’s feet, then for Eddie. He yanks him to the standing position - and, you know, Eddie’s really tired of standing - it’s overrated - he’d rather be in bed, curled up with Chris and Buck on either side of him and Theo laying on his chest -

Theo fell asleep on him once, last week, while Eddie was sitting in his comfy chair, and it was one of the sweetest moments of his whole life.

- but the guy says, “You’re coming with me,” and drags Eddie out of the Apple store.

“Why?” Eddie asks blearily, feet tripping over one another.

“Leverage.”

This guy thinks that if he has Eddie in his clutches, he’ll be able to just get to the helicopter and fly wherever he wants. Like the LAPD doesn’t have a plan to capture him the second he gets to the roof or the second he lands.

Moron.

The next moments are excruciating. Eddie’s trying to walk and Eddie’s trying to keep pressure on his wound as blood spills over his fingers. The guy is expending his strength to hold Eddie’s weight as Eddie leans against him. His arm is wrapped around him, almost like a brother in arms, a comrade - Eddie’s wrapped his arm around guys like this, trying to pull them from danger -

Strong. That can be this guy’s name.

Every movement hurts, spiking the pain in his side, spiking the pain everywhere. It’s hot and buzzy, spreading through him like electric shock. The gun stabbing his side exacerbates the feeling.

Eddie’s blood leaves a trail.

Eddie, unnecessarily and unhelpfully, remembers all the other times blood poured out of him. Not too long ago, it trailed behind him from the hospital chapel to the elevator. Years before that, it pooled in the street. Buck was there, in the street with him. Buck had pulled him from danger and lifted him up onto his shoulders like he weighed nothing and Buck had leaned over him in the ambulance, frantically applying pressure, staring at him with those wide, beautiful blue eyes.

Every time Eddie’s eyes flutter closed now, heavy-lidded and burning, he sees Buck’s eyes.

Just a few minutes ago, he thought he’d get out of this alive.

Now, he’s not so sure. He’s losing so much blood.

He wants to see Buck’s eyes again.

He just has to hold on and not pass out.

They pass a candle shop, the smell of which causes another surge of nausea. They pass a Hallmark store. They pass the play area. They should have been able to go to the play area.

Theo loves the play area. There are slides. There’s a ball pit. Theo loves the ball pit.
They’re almost at the elevator.

Another fucking elevator.

Eddie’s beginning to hate elevators.

Eddie groans.

Eddie slumps. Strong can’t hold his weight. Eddie kind of plops to the ground.

“Get up!” Strong yells at him, looking wildly between Eddie and the elevator a few feet away. “On your feet!”

Eddie tries. He really does.

With a disgruntled roar, Strong grabs Eddie again, this time from the back, fist curling into the neck of Eddie’s t-shirt, fingers bruising. He hoists Eddie up and situates his arm underneath Eddie’s ribcage, pressing into his wound sharply and inadvertently. Eddie’s not even half-standing, and Strong squeezes Eddie and drags.

The brutal, sustained burst of pain makes all the breath go out of Eddie’s lungs.

Strong’s walking backward toward the elevator, stumbling and grappling. Eddie’s gasping and holding his hands over his wound, trying to keep the blood inside his body, and his shoes keep squelching on the blood-slicked tiled mall floor. Through the white spots in his vision, he keeps seeing Buck’s eyes. Everything else is hazy, blurred and pain-flared around him, but Buck’s eyes are clear and bright.

Eddie hears Strong slap the elevator button.

“Leave him alone!”

Eddie’s blood runs ice cold.

Strong freezes, goes stock still for a second.

Eddie blinks furiously to clear his vision.

Theo’s in front of them, clutching a basketball like a grenade, face screwed up in angry determination.

Strong’s grip on Eddie tightens. Eddie feels him falter, like he doesn’t know exactly what to do.

“Go away, kid,” he spits.

Theo’s not going to go away.

After the disastrous hide and seek washing machine incident, Eddie had shown Theo his Silver Star.

“Woah,” Theo had said, breathless. “How’d you get this?”

“I got it in the Army.”

“For a mission?!” His eyes were lit up.

“Yeah, bud, for a mission. ‘Cause in the Army, you’re given orders, and you listen. Because sometimes, when you listen well, you can save others. I got this medal because I helped save people. No man left behind. So, how about… from now on, when I give you a mission, you know that I’m being really serious, and you - ”

“Listen?”

“Yeah, Theo, you listen. Until the mission’s complete.”

The memory flashes away, and all that remains is Theo, solid and resolute, armed with a basketball.

No man left behind.

He had stayed, somewhere in this mall, for Eddie.

Eddie’s heart swells with pride and affection and unadulterated love.

“Let him go!” Theo cries to Strong.

And then, Theo hurls the basketball at him like a missile.

A missile aimed in the absolute wrong direction.

It hits Eddie in the fucking stomach.

Eddie gasps and drops.

Theo runs to Strong, a high-pitched battle cry escaping his tiny lungs, before Eddie can shout or do anything to stop it. Theo kicks Strong, right in the shin, then opens his mouth wide and sinks his teeth into Strong’s leg, into the spot right behind his knee.

Strong lets out a blood-curdling yell.

He digs his fingers into Theo’s curls, grips tightly, and tugs.

Theo whimpers.

Eddie, rage spewing up, sweeping through the pain and the dizziness and the bile, bites out, “Don’t you fucking touch my son!”

Everything else dulls.

Eddie, pulsing with fury and adrenaline, forces his body forward. He tackles Strong around the midsection and they both go sprawling on the hard tile. Eddie has the upper hand for all of three seconds. In the three seconds, he looks over at Theo, who’s staring at him with awe, and yells, “Theo! The mission’s still going! Hide and seek.”

Theo’s eyes go even wider at that, and he gives Eddie a little salute before racing away.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

Eddie’s able to hit Strong multiple times - in the face, the side of his head - and Strong sways away from a little, eyes glassy, swimming, unfocused.

And then Strong punches Eddie where he’s already gaping, once, twice, three times, where the blood’s still sloshing out lazily, and Eddie gasps. White spots prick at his eyelids. Something wet in his mouth makes him choke. Eddie’s flat on his back now, staring up, up, up, and it’s like when he was in the elevator, staring into the light, hallucinating Shannon.

“Eddie,” she’d said softly, her warm hand cupping his cheek.

“Shan?” he’d choked out.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she’d said, long-sufferingly. You can’t keep almost dying.

“I didn’t ask to get stabbed.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Did God send you?” Eddie asked, twinging with vulnerability, desperate for Shannon to be an answered prayer.

“You need to tell him, Eddie,” Shannon whispered instead.

“Tell who what?”

Shannon rubbed her thumb along the apple of his cheek. “After all this, you still don’t know? How do you not know yet, Eddie?”

“Know what?”

She smiles, a small, secretive, beautiful thing.

“You’ll figure it out. You need to keep fighting, Eddie… Don’t give up… Don’t ever give up.”

And then she was gone.

Now, there’s no Shannon.

There’s just Eddie, getting smacked in the head with the butt of a gun - again - being forcibly dragged into an elevator, thick, throbbing aches radiating through his whole body.

A rumbling, and then a shaky, startled screech and stop of the elevator.

Darkness.

“What the hell?!” shouts Strong.

SWAT. It’s SWAT. It’s got to be SWAT. Cutting the power. Entering the building. Sweeping through stores. Finding the robbers in the Apple store. Arresting them. Finding Theo. Saving him.

Eddie feels the bullet hole in his abdomen, reaches around to his back, and discerns: it’s probably and through and through. But he’s definitely going to pass out soon. He needs help soon. He doesn’t want to die. He can’t die.

“Hey,” he manages. “Hey, Strong.”

“W-what?”

“It’s probably SWAT who cut off the power. It’s over. Please, you have to know it’s over. I need your help. I need you to put pressure on this, please.”

“My name’s Cole.”

“O-okay, Cole. Great. My name’s Eddie. Help me.”

“H-how?”

Cole’s voice is small and defeated. Eddie points in the dark, tells him to remove his shirt, to ball it up, to apply pressure, to hold it there, until someone comes, until someone helps.

The last thing he hears is Cole whispering, “We didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

And then darkness - full darkness - comes again.

*

Eddie’s eyes blink open in the helicopter.

He’s in a helicopter.

“Welcome back, Eddie,” says a familiar voice. Hen. She’s assessing him, shining a light in his eyes, hands moving expertly over his body, his bandages. Bandages. “We’re on the way to the hospital.”

Who’s we? Eddie wants to ask, but his question is answered quickly.

Athena’s here, too, sitting a few inches away, a laptop balanced on her knees, a radio held up to her mouth.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?!” she snaps into the radio.

Eddie’s heart suddenly starts galloping. “Wait, what - ”

Hen lays a hand on his chest, keeping him flat on his back. “Theo,” she says. “They can’t find Theo.”

Athena doesn’t answer him. Athena won’t look at him. Athena’s attention is on the laptop. She stares at it like she wants to blow it up with her mind. Mall security footage, Eddie guesses.

“Athena,” a voice crackles into the radio.

The voice that Eddie knows anywhere.

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Athena, they don’t know where he is. He’s not outside. He’s here, somewhere, but they don’t know where. Is there - do you think that there’s someone unaccounted for? That they took him?”

Eddie’s chest bubbles with panic, but he shoves it down to think logically.

No. That doesn’t make sense. It’s over.

“The arcade.” The words scrape Eddie’s raw throat on the way out.

Athena glances at Eddie then, brow furrowed, fingers white-knuckled around the radio. She moves closer to him, sits near his head, so now he has a view of the laptop. He can see the mall floor, see how it’s swept with blood, see the eerie dreariness that permeates through the black and white picture.

He can see Buck standing helplessly outside the Apple store, walkie hung limply at his side, surrounded by two SWAT team members.

Eddie reaches for Athena’s walkie wordlessly, and she hands it over.

“Check the arcade,” Eddie rasps.

There’s a long pause on the other end, and Eddie can see Buck compose himself. He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it. Starts to pace. Brings the walkie up to speak into it. “Eddie,” he breathes. “We checked.”

And then it hits Eddie.

Sharply. Clearly.

He laughs, although it hurts.

He can see Buck’s confusion and concern, even through the grainy feed.

“He - it - the mission,” Eddie wheezes, as Hen wipes away the sweat at his brow. “He’s - he’s playing hide and seek for the mission. You gotta tell him that he can come out. The mission’s over.”

Eddie releases his finger from the walkie, coughs, sputters up blood. Hen wipes his mouth, whispering words that Eddie doesn’t hear.

Buck and the SWAT guys disappear into the arcade room for several minutes.

Eddie watches the screen fiercely, eyes burning, unable to retract to his gaze.

“We’re here!” comes another familiar voice.

It’s coming from the cockpit.

Eddie hadn’t even thought to look at who was piloting the helicopter.

He can’t help the groan that escapes him.

“Good to see you again, too, Diaz.”

Fucking Tommy. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

Hen pushes something into Eddie’s IV.

Eddie grits his teeth against the swooping in his stomach as the helicopter starts the landing process.

Buck comes out of the arcade room, but there’s no Theo. “Eddie,” he says, panicked and helpless into the walkie.

“The play area!” Eddie says, and Buck’s already running, the SWAT guys behind him.

And Eddie knows they’ve already checked there, knows that there aren’t really hiding spots there, but Eddie also knows Theo. Knows that he wanted to go to the play area, and they didn’t get to go. He has to be there now. He has to be there.

Buck arrives at the play area. He’s standing at the edge of a slide, looking up to see if Theo’s at the top.

“The mission’s over!” Buck shouts. “Come out, Theo. Come on, honey.”

Eddie knows Theo’s there, but he’s not coming out. Why isn’t he coming out?

And it hits Eddie, again, dawning on him like the sun.

“I’m your commanding officer.”

He won’t come out unless it’s Eddie telling him to.

Then, Eddie sees it.

Movement.

The slow, trembling ripple of plastic, colored - black and white from Eddie’s view - balls.

Eddie laughs in relief and puts the walkie to his mouth. “He’s in the ballpit, Buck.”

Hen and Athena sag next to him, equally relieved.

Buck whips around and flings himself into the ballpit gracelessly. Balls pop up and fly everywhere as Buck dives around, arms searching wildly for his beautiful brave four-year-old.

Buck finds him.

Pulls him up and wraps his arms around him - almost certainly too tight - and Theo’s small legs wrap around Buck’s midsection, and Buck’s kissing the kid frantically all over -

“But - but Eddie said - ”

“And when I tell you to stop hiding, you have to listen. You have to come out.”

“Turn up your volume, Buck,” Eddie says.

Buck twists the knob on his walkie mindlessly, not deterred or interrupted from the bear-hug embrace.

“Theo,” Eddie says, smile wide across his face. “Hey, bud, I’m okay.”

Theo straightens a little in Buck’s arms, staring at the walkie, rapt with attention.

“Mission complete.”

Theo’s whole body deflates then, little and safe and curled up into Buck’s arms, head tucked into Buck’s neck.

And Eddie’s whole body deflates, too.

*

The world comes back slowly.

Sound finds him first. Beeping. Whispering voices.

Smell comes next. Oh. Blood. Antiseptic.

Taste. Copper. Salt - from sweat, or tears - his or someone else’s.

Touch. Dull pain, flooding through him, a fuzzy sensation in his temples. Hands on his face.

Sight. Eyes. Big, beautiful, ocean-blue bright eyes staring into his.

Buck.

“Hey, partner,” says Eddie.

Buck’s cradling his face, thumbs smoothing his cheeks, leaning over him. “Hey, soldier.”

Eddie smiles.

“You’re okay, Eddie,” Buck continues, hands still on Eddie’s face. “They gave you blood. Your bullet was through and through. You have a pretty bad concussion. But you’re gonna be okay.”

Eddie can’t stop staring at Buck’s eyes, red-rimmed from crying.

Eddie wraps his hands around Buck’s wrists. “What - what about - ”

“Theo’s fine,” Buck reassures. “Athena’s with him and Christopher in the cafeteria. He wanted ice cream for dinner.”

Eddie chuckles at that and loosens his grip, lets his hands fall down to his sides, even as Buck is still holding his face. Eddie feels his cheeks heat up, his whole body warm, and, actually, his whole body feels kind of fuzzy and floaty. It’s nice.

Eddie’s not in any pain.

Buck seems to realize that his hands are still on Eddie’s face. His fingers tense, hovering awkwardly, and then he takes his hands away. Pulls back. Pulls up a chair next to the hospital bed and sits in it.

Eddie could whine from the loss.

“What about - ” he starts, throat dry, and Buck fumbles around to pour him a glass of water, offers it to him shakily. Eddie sips gratefully.

“Everyone’s okay. Oh - and Maria? Yeah, I saw her. She had Theo, she did, but he didn’t want to leave the mall without you. He let go of her hand and ran. Apparently he was in the arcade most of the time, just playing games by himself. And - and - they arrested everyone from the three different stores that were robbed. They were, actually, really stupid in terms of their planning. But - anyway - no casualties. No injuries - o-other than you and the guys who took down. The manager kept asking about - Ashley? And - and Terry? The robber? And Cole? They kept asking about you, too.”

“Terry’s - ”

“He’s alive. Out of surgery. He was in pretty bad shape. Almost bled to death. But - but he didn’t.”

Eddie breaks through Buck’s rambling. “I shot him.”

It’s not an admission, but an acknowledgement. It’s all coming back to him now. He’ll have to sit with it, the fact that he shot four men and nearly killed one. He’ll add it to the list of others that he’s shot and killed to survive, or the woman he almost shot and killed to find Buck. He’ll add the whole thing to the list of trauma he’s scrawled out with blood ink, written across two deserts and two elevators.

Buck exhales. “You shot all of them, Eddie. And you beat the shit out of the one guy. You gave him a concussion. It was - it was seven guys, Eddie.” He says each word with wonder and awe in his voice, sounding watery with pride, just like Theo. “I saw the video footage.”

“Video footage?”

“Yeah,” grins Buck. “They didn’t destroy the cameras inside the Apple store.”

“Oh my God, they were stupid,” reflects Eddie.

Unbelievable.

“I saw it, Eddie. You were a hero. You protected Theo. You saved him.”

“Of course I did,” Eddie grumbles, “he’s my kid.”

Buck gasps.

Eddie clears his throat. He’d like more water. He reaches for the cup still in Buck’s hand, takes it from him since Buck’s not meeting him halfway, and slurps. Better. Much better.

Eddie’s whole body feels much better now. He could melt into the pillow.

“Eddie,” breathes Buck.

“What?”

“You - you said he’s your kid. You said Theo’s your kid.”

“Oh,” Eddie realizes. “Sorry. Our kid. Who, by the way, needs a medal. Like, a kiddie Silver Star or something.”

Buck’s eyes go wider, cuter, even more blue.

Eddie loves it.

“I love your eyes,” Eddie confesses easily.

And perhaps it’s the morphine talking, but it’s Eddie talking, too.

Eddie loves Buck’s eyes, and Buck should know. He loves the way they look at the world, with optimism and joy and happiness, even when the world is dark and soul-obliterating. Loves the way that they light up when he tells stories. Loves the way that they narrow and go a little dark at the edges when he’s pissed off and worked up and telling Eddie off about something. Loves the way they stare fondly at Christopher when he’s not looking, the way they’ve always looked at Christopher, since he was a little boy. Loves the way they widen when Theo does something crazy, like throw legos into the oven or jump into the hot tub like it’s a pool. Loves the way those eyes lock the fuck in when Buck’s on the job, concentrating, focusing.

Eddie loves the way Buck’s eyes look at him.

Buck’s always looked at Eddie like he’s worth something, like he’s not a failure, like he’s everything.

Eddie remembers the first look, the way his eyes lit up at praise when Eddie called him a badass under pressure, the way his cheeks went pink.

Eddie remembers the thousands of looks after.

And now, Buck’s looking at him with so much softness and bewilderment that it stirs something inside Eddie’s gut, something buzzy that he can feel despite the morphine coursing through his veins.

“After all this, you still don’t know? How do you not know yet, Eddie?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Buck’s eyes are unblinkingly focused on him.

All of sudden, Eddie can’t look directly at him. He has to lower his gaze.

And, oh.

Okay.

Eddie knows now.

“Our kid?” Buck repeats softly.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, staring at his hands. “He’s ours. And Chris. They’re ours.”

“Eddie,” laughs Buck, disbelieving, “You - you gotta know how that sounds, man - ”

Eddie, fluttering more distinct in his gut, tells himself to be brave. Eddie shot people today. He can look at Buck, for God’s sake. He clears his throat. “I know how it sounds. I want it to sound that way.”

“What, so - you want me to adopt Chris?”

“Yes. You’re in my will already.”

“You - you want us to adopt Theo?”

“Yes.”

“You want us to raise them… together?”

“Yes.”

Buck’s whole face is flushed. His birthmark is darker than usual.

Buck scoots the chair closer to the bed, even though it’s practically impossible. He leans in, over Eddie’s waist, and now they’re a few inches apart and Eddie’s looking down at him. “To - to clarify, you want us to - to raise children - ” his voice squeaks a little over the words “- p-platonically?”

There’s an explosion of endearment that goes through Eddie then.

The robbers were completely, utterly stupid.

Buck is completely, utterly… an idiot.

And Eddie loves him. Eddie loves him so much. He’s in love with him.

And Eddie’s an idiot, too, for taking this long to realize it.

And Eddie, who knows that not one moment of life is guaranteed, stops wasting them.

“Not platonically,” Eddie says, reaching out his hand, and this time Buck moves forward, and Eddie grasps the collar of his white, striped button down - and Buck needs to really stop wearing this fucking shirt - every time he does, Eddie gets shot - and Buck stumbles to meet him halfway -

And then their lips meet.

And Eddie meets the rest of his life.

Buck’s hands immediately go back to Eddie’s face, anchoring the firm press of their mouths against one another. Eddie curls Buck’s collar tighter in his fingers and pulls back a little, but only to drop smaller, shorter kisses to Buck’s lips. And then he opens his mouth under Buck’s, and Buck’s tongue slides into his mouth - Eddie is gay, he is definitely gay -

Everything else fades away.

There’s nothing but this now. Kissing Buck. Loving Buck. Raising kids with Buck.

Buck pulls back first, and they catch their breath, even though Eddie doesn’t really care about air right now, and then Buck’s kissing Eddie everywhere, frantic kisses at the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, his cheek, the space between his eyebrows, the mole under his eye -

“My Eddie!”

The cry comes from the door of the room.

Eddie registers several things kind of sluggishly. The comical way Buck rips himself away from Eddie. The knowing way Athena stands in the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. The sheer relief and happiness that filters through his body’s pain, through the morphine haze, at the sight of seeing Christopher and Theo.

Theo reaches him first. Flings his little arms around Eddie’s neck in a way that hurts because of the angle - Theo’s on his tiptoes, essentially pulling Eddie down - but Eddie kisses his elbow anyway, the only part of him that he can really reach. Buck lifts Theo up and settles him into the bed on the opposite side - the side not shot - and Theo cuddles into his side.

Chris gets there a couple seconds later, and Eddie reaches up an arm to pull Chris down. Chris, who has experienced more loss and near-losses than any kid should have to experience. “Hey, kiddo,” Eddie says softly, and Chris doesn’t even scoff, doesn’t huff out, “I’m not a kid,” he just lets himself be awkwardly held.

“So are you guys together now?” he says dryly, pulling away and wiping beneath his glasses. He readjusts them, looking between Eddie and Buck.

Eddie smirks at Buck. “Are we?”

“Yes!” Buck says too loudly, and with a tiny fist pump. “Not platonically!”

Eddie’s never been more attracted to him.

Athena actually laughs out loud and shakes her head. “That’s my cue to give you a minute. I’ll be back later.” She leaves the room, and they hear her let out another cackling guffaw once the door closes.

Chris pulls up another chair to sit next to the hospital bed, and he empties his pockets onto Eddie’s blanketed lap before he sits down. “We brought you Jello.”

Sure enough, there’s at least five cups of green Jello here. And -

“And ice cream!” Theo chirps in blearily. Eddie looks down at him. His eyes are closed. He’s two seconds away from crashing hard into sleep.

“And ice cream,” amends Chris, taking out a few more cups - the kind that come in the chocolate and vanilla variety and have a wooden spoon attached, “Theo thought you’d want ice cream for dinner.”

Buck’s already dutifully opening a vanilla cup for Eddie.

“You gonna spoon feed him?” Chris teases.

Buck’s face turns red, and Chris’ shit-eating grin gets wider, and Theo huffs out a little, crackly sounding snore, and Eddie just laughs.

It’s a joyful, joyful thing. And Eddie’s morphine is wearing off, because the laughter surfaces his body’s pain, but Eddie doesn’t really care.

He’s alive and he’s with his boys.

He has everything he needs.

More than that, he has everything he wants.

He has joy, and he’s deserving of it, and he wants to live in it forever.

“Ice cream for dinner sounds perfect.”