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There’s a mark on the table.
A small indent about an inch long and a quarter of an inch deep like a tiny canon carved into the wood. Eddie runs his finger over it, the rough edges gently snagging the pads of his finger. He’s not quite sure how it got there or when. He’s never really noticed it until this moment. Perhaps it was created before his time at the 118 or maybe it was yesterday or last week or when Eddie was gone for a few months (both voluntary and involuntary). It doesn’t really matter. It could be gone tomorrow or next year or even exist until the table crumbles into ash and dust. Nothing’s really permanent.
They’re in the last few minutes of a shift, the loft starting to rumble to life as B-Shift pours in downstairs. Eddie can hear the hum of the elevator fridge, the quiet drip of the faucet where Bobby is drying dishes. The television is on, the highlights of a soccer game that has Ravi grumbling unhappily and Hen and Chimney’s quiet conversation as they go over last minute details for Buck’s return next week. The sea of noise blends together into a faint sound of static that makes Eddie’s skin itch. He digs his nail into the crevice and wonders if he could get a splinter if he presses hard enough. The prick of pain is grounding in a way that pain always is. It keeps him from floating too far off, from losing himself too deeply in his head. He can blame the dissociation on the lack of sleep — both from last night and these past few months.
“Earth to Eddie.”
Eddie blinks a few times. He didn’t realize how out of focus everything was, the colors and shapes of the loft twirling in his vision before the world rights itself. Hen and Chimney are both looking at him with a mix of concern and something else he’s too tired to decipher right now. Did they ask him something? He’s not quite sure. He shifts in his seat and taps the mark on the table, clearing his throat as he gruffly says, “What?”
“The cake,” Hen says with a slight tilt to her eyebrow, “we were talking about Buck’s favorite filling, but Chimney and I can’t agree on what it should be.”
“Strawberry rhubarb," Eddie responds. He doesn’t have to think about it. It’s right there on the tip of his tongue, stored in the corner of his mind that is reserved for all things Buck related. “Definitely not lemon,” he adds when he sees Chimney open his mouth to argue.
“See,” Hen teases as she shoves Chimney’s playfully, “I told you it wasn’t lemon.”
“Maddie likes lemon,” Chimney just shrugs, “so I thought it might be a Buckley thing.”
“Yeah,” Hen laughs, warm and knowing, “your Buckley.”
Chimney mutters something Eddie can’t hear and he takes a moment to roll his shoulders, easing the perpetual ache that has seeped into his bones these past few weeks. Hen rapidly types something on her phone, probably making note of the cake filling, and Eddie grits his teeth, trying not to let the sound grate against his ears. Boots pound on the stairs and Eddie is up from his seat a little too quickly, the chair scraping against the floor unpleasantly that has Hen and Chimney snapping their heads in his direction. Eddie ignores them and bolts to the locker room. He takes too long debating on whether he should change here or at the gym because he’s suddenly cornered in by his two friends and he can only deflect for so long.
“Is everything okay?” Hen asks gently, like he might run at a moment’s notice again. He’s thinking about it. He’s faster than both of them.
“Yeah,” Chimney adds tentatively, “we thought you’d be more excited about Buck’s return.”
“I am.” He answers too quickly for it to be a full truth. He scrunches his nose and lets out a deep breath. “The team feels off without him,” he answers a little more honestly, “and I miss having my partner.”
Both of their faces soften and Eddie takes the moment to pull his bag out from his locker. He’ll change later. He doesn’t need anyone to know he’s not going home right away. It will just stir up more questions he’s not ready to answer, especially after Hen caught him taking out his insomnia on the punching bag at two in the morning.
“Hey,” Chimney squeezes his shoulder, “it’s been a hell of a few months, but Buck’s coming home.”
Eddie just nods his head, lips pressed together in a thin line. His phone buzzes and he holds it up as an excuse to take his leave. Hen and Chimney part, but not before giving him another strange, assessing look as he passes between them. He feels something unwind in his chest as Buck’s name pops up on his screen.
Buck: school drop off complete and i’m starving. breakfast?
Buck: we could go to the diner that has that hashbrown sandwich
Buck: please say we can go there i could eat two of those right now
Eddie allows his lips to tug up in a half smile. It wasn’t that long ago that getting Buck to eat anything at all was a battle of its own. His lack of appetite was one of the many setbacks they had to overcome during his recovery process. Eddie knows eating was lower on Buck’s priority list considering everything else tearing him apart. Temporary hearing loss. Balancing and vision issues. Short term memory loss. Not to mention the nightmares. It felt different this time around, watching Buck slowly crawl his way to healing. When his leg was crushed Eddie could easily keep his emotions on lockdown. He could be Buck’s rock. A steady presence by his side to take the heat when Buck was angry and offer reassurance when Buck was down.
This, though. This time Eddie doesn’t feel fully in control. And it’s not that he can’t take Buck’s anger or frustration on the bad days or being there for his best friend when things look grim — he’s been living in Eddie’s house the past couple of months for a reason — it’s that Buck fucking died and Eddie couldn’t do a single thing to stop it. He’s heard it all. From Bobby and Hen and Chimney and Athena and Karen and of course from Buck several times over that it’s not his fault. That Buck is here and alive and breathing because they saved him.
Being dead for eight minutes doesn’t really sound like being saved to Eddie.
So he’s trying to regain control. He’s doing what he needs to so it will be enough next time around, because if Eddie’s learned anything there will always be a next time.
Eddie: Sure. I’m going to hit the gym first, there’s left over fruit salad in the fridge to tide you over.
Predictably, his phone starts ringing.
Eddie sighs as he swipes his thumb and brings the phone up to his ear. He barely gets a hello out before Buck is all over him.
“What are you going to the gym for?” Buck asks in a way that Eddie can perfectly picture the little furrow in his brow. “Didn’t you just go before your shift yesterday?”
“Today is a brand new day,” Eddie replies smartly as he dumps his bag onto the passenger seat of his truck.
There’s a pause where Eddie assumes Buck is rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware,” he says petulantly. “Funny enough I still remember how time works.”
Eddie could make a teasing comment or give Buck a snarky reply, but all of his words get caught in his throat.
Thirty seconds to get back up on the fire engine. Another thirty to get to the top of the ladder. Two and a half minutes to get Buck onto the gurney. Another minute to get his feet on the ground. Three minutes to the hospital. Twenty seconds of Eddie’s hands being the only thing pumping blood in Buck’s body. Another ten to hand Buck over. To let Buck slip through his grasp as his heart finally, finally started beating again.
Eight minutes.
And yet it felt like a thousand years. Like a blink of an eye. Time is never on his side.
“You um,” Buck starts after Eddie falls silent for too long, “you’ve been going to the gym a lot recently, like it almost seems unhealthy.”
“I’m fine.” He says on reflex, because he is. He got to have his big and all consuming breakdown when Buck blinked his eyes open in the hospital. He let himself hold Buck’s hand and just let it go as Buck carded fingers through his hair apologizing again and again for putting Eddie through this.
“That was almost believable,” Buck deadpans and Eddie just knows he’s going to be bringing this back up later. He flexes his fingers on the steering wheel, his hands trembling just a touch. He hears Buck sigh after another moment, “Fine, fruit salad, but I will be getting a stack of waffles and two sandwiches and no I will not be sharing.”
Eddie smiles, tension bleeding from his body as he pulls out of the station, “Liar.”
Buck chuckles, warm and low, and Eddie is reminded of bottled honey left out in the sun all day. “If I do,” he says softly, “it’s only because I’m a kind and generous person.” He pauses and then adds, “And I like you.”
“Lucky me,” Eddie teases, light and easy. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
“See you soon,” Buck hums before hanging up.
Eddie tucks his phone into the middle console and turns the radio up, hoping the noise is louder than the buzzing in his head.
The gym is quiet, mostly empty since it’s early morning on a weekday. Eddie recognizes a few familiar faces; the people you know but don’t know. It’s comforting in a way, especially when he still feels like he’s on shaky ground, because it means they’re still here. They still exist in this world. Eddie sees them and their eyes give him a quick glance over as if they recognize him too. As if they’re cataloging his existence. He wonders if they notice his other half hasn’t been here in weeks. He wonders if they text their friends or have conversations in their head that sound something like Where’s the guy always attached at the dark-haired one’s hip?
“Eddie, she’s back!” Buck grins, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his tank top, showing Eddie a swath of his toned stomach.
“Ginger?” Eddie asks, as he sits up on the bench, carefully placing the weights back down on the ground.
“Yep,” Buck pops the P, “talking to Average Joe.”
Eddie turns to see where Buck is nodding his head and just across from where they’re working out by the squat rack is the girl they dubbed as Ginger. She’s tall and lanky, with long red hair that’s always pulled into a high ponytail. They haven’t seen her in a month. Buck was starting to get worried, which Eddie found both amusing and utterly sweet. Leave it to Buck to be worried about complete strangers he nods to at the gym.
“Glad she’s okay,” Buck says before he motions for Eddie to get up so he can do his set on the bench.
He catches Ginger’s eye as he passes, her fingers working through her hair as she pulls it up before getting on the stairmaster. Her lips pull down in the corners, a furrow in her brow as she looks over his shoulder, like she expects Buck to be half a step behind. Eddie quickly ducts into the safety of the locker room, his stomach rolling unpleasantly. He plans on doing a quicker workout, not wanting to keep Buck waiting. There’s a pain in his shoulder he shouldn’t aggravate further, but Buck comes back in a week and he hasn’t hit his goal weight yet. He quickly changes and tries to stretch his already sore and aching muscles from his late night boxing session and workout yesterday morning before his shift.
He thinks it’s a little pot and kettle for Buck to worry about his recent gym habits. Eddie is fine. He’s just trying to bulk up. Get stronger. Is there something wrong with wanting to be at your peak health for a job that is one hundred percent physical? Besides, he can’t fail again. Not when there are lives on the line. Lives of people that mean the most to him. So what if he’s a little drained? Exhausted and wrung out? Eddie knows there are worse ways to cope (even though he’s sure Frank would have something to say if he knew the truth about how often he’s been here the past couple of months) but it’s not like he’s knocking people out in a ring.
He dry swallows two pain pills and puts his music on full blast just to drown out the sound of his pounding heart.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, a low quiet sound like a warning for the oncoming storm. Eddie’s fingers grip the sheets, his breath hitching for a moment before he slowly forces out the exhale. He watches the ceiling fan spin in circles, the blades cutting sharply through orange light filtering in through the crack in the curtains. Thunder rumbles again, a little louder. A little closer. There’s a shift on the mattress, a small distressed noise huffed into empty space. Eddie tilts his head, hand hovering in the air as he watches Buck’s face slowly relax. He’s on his stomach, arms curled beneath the pillow, his breathing even and steady.
Eddie lets his fingers trail over the faded Lichtenberg scars painted across Buck’s shoulder. He traces one that’s darker than the others, the path branching into jagged little lines down his chest. Buck sighs contently and Eddie allows a small smile to curl in the corner of his mouth. Buck’s been practically living at their house ever since Eddie brought him home from the hospital. Recently he’s gone back to the loft for a night or two during the week, only to give himself time and space away from the constant prying eyes of his team that haven’t left him alone because they all share the same fear of losing Buck if he’s out of their sight for too long.
Eddie gets it. He does. But it doesn’t stop the slight tremble in his hands when he crawls into bed alone. It doesn’t soothe the ache that took root in his chest and simply hasn’t let go since the moment Buck disappeared behind the swinging doors.
Buck starts back on shift tomorrow and Eddie hates that instead of being excited and giddy, like Buck clearly is, he feels nervous and sick. Despite all his last minute workout sessions both at the station and the gym he and Buck frequent he still hasn’t hit his target goal. Logically, he knows it was a bit unrealistic especially because he’s not twenty-two anymore, but the sting still hurts the same. He’s not strong enough. Probably was never going to be strong enough to do what needed to be done.
He’s out of the bed so fast it nearly jostles Buck awake, but Eddie needs to get out of this room right the fuck now. He’s already wearing a pair of ratty gym shorts and he just manages to grab a discarded shirt from the ground as he slips out the door. Thunder continues to rumble, but there’s no patter of rain and Eddie rubs at his chest as the sound of the approaching storm vibrates beneath his skin. He distantly thinks he should wrap his hands, but he refuses to change course, every part of him yearning to do something.
To do more.
He doesn’t even register that he’s outside on the back porch until the sounds of the screen door slamming snaps him out of his daze. His fists collide with the punching bag four seconds later. If he were more focused, less afraid of leaving Buck and Christopher alone as a storm draws near, he’d be in his truck driving to the nearest twenty-four hour gym. What’s one more test of strength just to be sure? He fires off six rapid punches, the dull thud of his fist overpowered by mother nature.
It has to do something. Even if it’s just a little. Eddie knows first hand the difference a centimeter or a second or an ounce can make. How lives can be saved or lost in the span of an inhale or the release of an exhale. So he punches and kicks and screams just for good measure. He throws his full weight and doesn’t let up.
Even as his knuckles split open, blood smearing across the worn material he doesn’t let up. Even as his bad shoulder stiffens and strains he doesn’t let up. Even as his body aches and aches and aches he doesn’t let up. Because Buck is coming back to work tomorrow and Eddie wouldn’t be able to carry his weight no matter how hard he fucking tries.
“Eddie?”
His next punch lands a little to the left and he stumbles forward, heaving chest colliding with the bag. He reaches up to steady himself, the first few drops of rain splashing against the concrete patio. The sweet smell of petrichor fills Eddie’s lungs as he takes a deep breath, the rain falling lazily as the sky flashes a faint yellow in the distance.
“Buck,” Eddie turns, a little wild, “get inside.”
Buck is standing halfway out of the backdoor, one socked foot on the ground like he was making his way to where Eddie is standing. He frowns, rubbing sleep from his eyes, but he doesn’t move. He’s in that soft white hoodie Carla got him for his birthday last year and the glow from the kitchen makes him look almost ethereal.
“What are you doing?” He asks around a yawn.
“Nothing,” Eddie quickly murmurs, “come on.”
The rain picks up and Eddie pushes Buck through the threshold before a loud clap of thunder crackles behind them. Eddie closes his eyes, leaning his weight against the door as he takes a moment to count to five.
“You okay?” Buck’s voice is low and so very very close.
“Fine I—” He’s very well aware how not fine he sounds, which definitely means Buck can hear it too.
“Your hands.” Buck says gently.
Eddie feels Buck’s warmth before his hands wrap carefully around Eddie’s wrists, bringing them up in the space between them. Eddie slowly blinks his eyes open, lashes batting like butterfly wings. Buck brushes his thumbs just above the split skin and Eddie is forced to meet his gaze, like he can’t bear not to look at Buck.
“Want to tell me why you were laying into the punching bag at two in the morning?” Buck raises an eyebrow, but his blue eyes remain soft.
“Can’t sleep.” Eddie grunts.
He had his moment. He had his breakdown. He needs to be strong now. He can keep this on lockdown until it eventually melts away with every other traumatic experience he’s ever been through.
“So breaking your skin,” Buck’s mouth pulls into a taut line, like he’s angry, “and hurting your shoulder and overworking yourself at the gym—” Eddie’s look sharpens like glass that could cut at the barest of touches, “—yes, Eddie I’ve noticed how often you go and that you spend an hour working out at the firehouse on top of that.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, Buck.” Eddie pulls out of Buck’s grasp because he can not do this.
“Bullshit.” Buck argues. “Look,” Eddie turns, teeth gritted together because his traitorous body won’t — can’t — walk away from Buck when he sounds like that, “I understand more than most how easy it is to blame yourself for things outside of your control. How awful it feels because you’re just the guy standing there, not doing anything when it happens.”
“That’s not—” Eddie starts, but cuts himself off as he snaps his mouth shut. “It’s different, Buck.”
“How?” Buck asks, cheeks a heady pink. He steps into Eddie’s space, the anger nearly evaporating into something more quiet and devastating. “How is it different?”
And this. This is what breaks him.
“Because,” Eddie nearly yells, “you were able to save me from the line of fire, but I couldn’t pull you up the ladder!”
“Eddie.” Buck says, utterly wrecked and Eddie tries to blink back the hot prick of tears.
“Don’t.” He croaks out. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“Eddie,” Buck reaches between them, hand hovering for a moment and when Eddie doesn’t move away, he carefully lays it against Eddie’s waist, fingers splayed over skin, “no one could have lifted me back onto that ladder. I was dead fucking weight in the middle of a rainstorm.”
“Maybe I could if I were stronger.” Eddie quickly cuts in, shaking his head.
“That’s not the way gravity works, Eds.” Buck murmurs, his hand now cupping Eddie’s cheek as he swipes his thumb under Eddie’s eye to catch a few fallen tears. “You got me to safety,” he says, voice so full of conviction that it cuts some of the heavy fog in Eddie’s brain, “you had my back.”
“It doesn’t feel like enough,” Eddie chokes out. “It never feels like enough.”
“I don’t think it ever will,” Buck says a little miserably and Eddie can’t stop the wet laugh that escapes his parted lips, “but you know what is enough?”
“What?” Eddie looks at him, looks at those beautiful blue blue eyes, remembers how they were the best thing Eddie had ever seen all those months ago in the hospital.
“You.” Buck answers simply. “More than enough,” he continues with a small huff that could almost be self-deprecating, “god, Eddie, you have to know how much you mean to me.”
“Buck.”
“Sometimes I feel like — no, I know,” Buck holds his face so gently, so reverently that Eddie has to grip Buck’s wrist just to remain standing, “there’d be no me without you.”
Eddie’s never been good with words, Buck always does the talking, so he lets his hands fist the fabric of Buck’s hoodie and pulls the man to him, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss. Buck’s response is immediate, one of his big, warm hands cradling the back of Eddie’s neck as he licks hot into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie feels something crackling to life beneath his skin, like the static shock of electricity that stopped Buck’s heart is now making Eddie’s burst through his chest.
A tumultuous rumble of thunder breaks them apart, Buck startling so hard he begins to tremble. Eddie holds onto him, pulling him tight against his chest. Buck buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, breath fanning out in hot pools over Eddie’s skin.
“Sorry,” Buck says gruffly.
“It’s okay,” Eddie smiles, tilting his head to kiss the shell of Buck’s ear, “you’re safe.”
“Safest place I’ve ever known,” Buck hums, his arms hugging Eddie’s waist.
Eddie pulls back just so he can kiss Buck again. Sweet and slow and full of everything he’s been holding back for years. Buck smiles against his lips, brushing their noses together.
“Come on,” Eddie says, nodding in the direction of the bedrooms, “we’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
Buck grins, eyes crinkling in the corners and Eddie loves him. “Let’s clean up your knuckles first,” he says as he laces their hands together, careful not to agitate the split skin.
Buck leads him to the bathroom where he bandages Eddie’s hands, stealing kisses in between each layer of gauze. By the time they’re back in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, the storm has passed and Eddie lets that be enough for tonight.