#6b speculation

We know it’s gonna be a cliffhanger, but I think it would be so much more impactful to have it end with finding out he’s super hurt and unconscious. Then start the next episode with them already living with Buck in a coma and his coma dream.

this is a spec fic, so spoilers for 6b ahead!

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Rating: T

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 4,101 words

Snippet:

Ten days after Buck flat-lines on a stretcher in the pouring rain, Eddie’s allowed to take him home.

His skin feels stretched tight over his bones, a kinetic energy vibrating through his bones, twitching through his fingers as he watches Buck clumsily pull on a hoodie. Eddie watches him like a hawk, unable to keep him out of his sights for longer than he has to.

He hadn’t had to fight very hard to get Buck back to his place instead of anyone else’s, the consensus being that he wasn’t going home alone. There had been something knowing in Bobby’s expression as he’d explained that Buck would be most comfortable in the Diaz home, but something even more incriminating as he’d looked at Eddie — as if he knew the impulse to keep Buck as close as possible, the reasons behind it.

Maybe it’s because he had to listen to the God-awful silence that accompanied his partner’s heart stopping, or because he watched Buck dangle from a ladder while desperately trying to hide his own injuries so no one would pay attention to him over the one who needed it most, or because, or because—

Buck & Eddie: The last 15 seconds of the ‘Kitchen Scene’

It sure doesn’t sound like they’re talking about playing a video game 👀👀.

Buck: “I’d still take you!”  Eddie: “You think so?” Buck: “I know!” Buck: [Walks towards Eddie with his hand on his belt buckle.] “You want to go for the title?”

Will Buck and Eddie have another Kitchen Scene in 6B?  Only the showrunner(s), writers and producers know the answer to that question.

So I haven't written in a long long time, and never for 9-1-1. Buuut in the wake of 6b airing tonight!!!!!! I decided to write a little 6b spec fic, because I'm traumatised by all of the promos and I cannot wait to watch it and torture myself. So in the last few hours of speculation, Enjoy.

Summary: "The roaring thunder, dreadful in its ire, Is water warring with aerial fire." OR a 6b spec fic about the lightning strike.

Warnings: Lightning, character death (kinda) emotional turmoil

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairings: 9-1-1 core team, buddie if you squint.

It was pouring. The thunder rumbling through the sky, almost as a continuous roar. The rain was bouncing off the sidewalk with such a feat it hurt their icy cold skin. The storm was worsening. In hindsight it was a warning: they were being swept up in the eye of the storm, and about to be thrown for a loop.

But they had a job to do. 

The fire was roaring despite the torrential downpour. They needed to vent the roof, and fast. There were people stuck in the building. Bobby’s face was full of unease, he had to send someone up there. On a metal conductor. He looked as his team, the dread evident in his voice. 

“The only way up is the aerial,” He sighed, “The storm is getting closer. I’m not going to force anyone to go up there. That thing will be a lightning rod.”

It occurs to Eddie later this is the closest he’s ever been to punching a superior.

It doesn’t so much as surprise him that he felt this way, rather that he didn’t feel as strongly as this before. There were many moments in the army – hell, in the Dairy Freeze he worked in the summers in high school – where the inclination would’ve made much more sense than a figure he viewed as family. However, in the end, Eddie supposes it was inevitable. Inevitable that he’s feeling Bobby’s hands grip against his turnout, still askew and half-off where Chimney once was, hands running up his chest while he checked for injuries. Chimney is long gone, sprinting to where Hen cries out, the panic in her voice palpable and Eddie only has one functioning ear at the moment.

All of that means nothing to him, really.

Instead, he’s unilaterally focused on the helmet sitting on the ground as innocently as if someone placed it there. Rain, crashing against the visor, the flashlight still on and flickering in the storm. A helmet that should be on the head of the figure collapsed on the ground yards away. It’s too far. Too far for a helmet to be away from the head it’s meant to protect. It’s all Eddie can see in the moment, because he thinks as soon as he lifts his gaze, everything will shift. He feels Bobby’s grip on his shoulder and it digs painfully in his skin, the whisper of a bullet in his ear with no figure standing in front of him.

buddie | 1.1k | tw: alludes to death | 6b speculation

this probably isn't the only spec fic y'all will see from me in the next 24 hours

ao3

Buck. Buck. Buck. Buck.

It was the only word he could think as he raced across the lot and onto the firetruck. He couldn't hear the pleading shouts from his teammates or the orders from Bobby to stop. 

Buck. Buck. Buck.

Was he screaming? He didn't have any control over his mind or his body as he hit the ladder at full speed. 

Buck.

The most important word in any language. It consumed him as he made it to the top, threatening to make him buckle as he watched his best friend, his partner, his something more as he dangled lifelessly by the tether keeping him suspended between life and death. Despite the mortality hanging around him, he looked as angelic and tragic as the Crucifix, splayed in what could only be called a Christ-like position. And, Eddie be damned, he was still beautiful, even like this. 

Eddie reeled furiously, nearly breaking the knob as he turned it. He was trembling by the time Buck reached him. But something fell over him as he first laid his hands on him, as though his body took control as his mind fell apart. 

He stilled. 

Then he cooly ripped open Buck's turnout coat and placed his hands on his sternum, pumping like the perfect soldier he was always meant to be. 

1...2...3...

He still wasn't breathing. 

4...5...6...

Eddie was still surprisingly calm, diligently pumping and praying to a god he wasn't sure if he still believed in. He neared the 30-pump mark, preparing himself for breaths. 

His lips neared Buck's, his heart beating out of his chest. 

Breathe. Please breathe. 

He was shaking again.

Buck's lips were cold, unmoving.

Not like this, it was never supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to take him to dinner first. To drive him home to Chris, to their son. To stop him after they had put Chris to bed and tell him, just as he was hitting the door. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

And if things were right - if they weren't on top of a metal ladder 100 feet in the air during a lightning storm - that's when it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be tender and raw and real. It was supposed to be shared. Not this, never this. 

He placed his hands back on Buck's chest. He wasn't sure if the drops streaking Buck's face were from the storm or his own tears raining down from above. 

Buck's sternum broke, and Eddie nearly gave out at the feeling of the crunch under his palms. He felt the edge of panic creeping over his brain. 

Not now. I can't lose it now. I can't fail him just because I can't hold it together.

He went down for another set of breaths, eyes blurred.

Then, they were moving, the ladder retracting back into the top of the truck. He cried out as the fear struck him that this was happening. Buck still wasn't breathing. 

He continued to work furiously as they slowly descended to what Eddie was sure would be Buck's death. He thought he was screaming again but couldn't be sure through the pounding of his heart and the intensity of his thoughts. 

They hit the top of the truck gentler than he would've guessed. He hardly noticed the touchdown. He was panicked, frantic, losing his mind. 

Why won't you breathe? How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to me?

He was devastated and angry and borderline delusion, as Bobby pulled him off of Buck. He tried to turn and throw him off of him, anything to get back to Buck. But Eddie was weaker than him now, spent on adrenaline and terror. 

"Eddie. They've got him," Bobby said, grip still tight around him, "you've done all you can do, Eddie. Please, just come with me so they can help him." 

He let Bobby direct him to the ladder and mechanically climb to the ground. He let Bobby turn him around as Hen and Chimney loaded him to the back of the truck, working together harmoniously - yet noticeably rattled - to revive him. 

Eddie fell to his knees on the wet asphalt, unable to move. He knew he should claw his way back to Buck. He should ride with him at the very least - see him one more time before they took him away forever. The panic was taking over, ten time worse than the last one when he destroyed his bedroom. He couldn't breathe. 

Buck would be strong enough if the roles were reversed. He had fought until the last possible second to save Eddie from his sniper wound. He had patched him up and talked to him like the savior he was meant to be. 

Eddie couldn't even look at him. He had failed. 

Before he knew it, Bobby was stuffing him into the passenger seat of the truck, working frantically to get them going. He thought he was talking to him, but words seem to mean nothing just then. 

He'd made a silent promise to himself - and Buck and Chris - that he'd never let this happen. Chris would never have to lose another parent, and, as Eddie was realizing more with each passing second, he'd never have to lose another partner. He should be fighting for Buck's life. He should be screaming at him to wake up and fight. He should at least tell him he loved him before he had to say it to a coffin. 

Instead, he was rocking in the passenger seat like a child, unable to do anything but breathe his name. 

Buck. Buck. Buck. 

___

Bobby wouldn't unlock the door until they'd wheeled Buck into the hospital and disappeared behind the double doors. The déjà vu of his last trip like this with Shannon ate him alive. 

Someone was grasping his shoulders. He turned blearily. Bobby stood before him with Hen and Chimney in tow. His captain's eyes were bloodshot, his face tear-streaked like the rest of the team's. 

"They got him breathing on top of the truck," Bobby said gently. 

Something is Eddie broke. Was it relief? Something more? Bobby caught him before he could hit the ground this time. 

"Bobby, he's..." Eddie stammered, unsure of what came next. 

"I know, Eddie."

He let the panic consume him then, and every bad emotion he had ever felt hit him like that damned bolt of lightning that had stolen Buck away from him. Unlike last time, he didn't have the energy to scream and kick and fight and tell the world how fucking unfair it all was that he had failed the man he loved. He just sobbed into Bobby's coat, wondering if the hole in his heart would ever heal.