if the end of the world was here (where would you choose to be?) Part I
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Summary: Two lonely, broken souls find each other in a broken world, and somehow manage to save it.
The Zombie AU
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AN: long time no see, Tarlos fandom. I was going through my drafts and saw this. I thought what a shame it would go to waste, so I decide to post in parts. I think about 80% of the fic is already written, so updates should be fairly consistent (and will depend on if anyone is still reading fics tbh.) Will post on AO3 in full once the fic is fully written.
Tags: Angst with a happy ending, Hurt Comfort, Alternate Universe- Zombie Apocalypse, BAMF Carlos Reyes, BAMF TK Strand, some gore, hurt TK Strand, hurt Carlos Reyes.
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"You okay, son?"
TK snorted, continuing to work on the little car he'd decided to carve in the piece of wood he'd found on one of their scouting missions. It was a little lopsided, and the tires were uneven, but it was something to keep his mind and hands busy, so it didn't really matter how good it looked.
"TK-"
"What do you want me to say, dad?"
"I just want you to be okay."
He stared at him in disbelief. "The guy I asked to marry me turned out to be cheating on me, then the fucking end of the world happened, and now I get front row seats to that," he exclaimed, jabbing a finger to where Alex and Mitchell were sitting, so close there was no space between them, and kissing.
"Don't torture yourself like this."
"I was here first," he said bitterly, "this spot is the one place I can go to for some peace and quiet and he managed to ruin even that."
"I'm sorry."
"You were right," he muttered, getting up, "he's an asshole. I wish I'd listened."
He grabbed onto his hand. "You're gonna be okay, kiddo."
He smiled, painfully fake. No, I won't.
.
He didn't think anyone would notice if he snuck out for a couple of hours for a breather, so he took his pack, filled it with some supplies just in case, and took his knife.
Once he left the confines of the compound, breathing became just a little bit easier.
On his walk, he stumbled across a pharmacy, and he stopped, whole body freezing. A war erupted inside his head, thoughts so loud it made want to bash his head against the wall. He took a step towards the broken pharmacy door, and his thoughts became clearer.
Just this once.
He probably wouldn't find anything in there anyway.
Just once, just to take the edge off.
He took a step inside, then another, heart pounding so loudly in his ears it was the only thing he could hear.
He made it deep inside, found the cabinet with the broken lock, and opened it.
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
"What are you doing?"
He jumped, startled and whirled around. "Alex?" he asked, confused, "what- how did you find me?"
"I followed you."
TK frowned. "Why?"
"Because I knew you would do something stupid, TK," he told him, "and it looks like I was right."
TK pursed his lips, stepped away from the cabinet and stormed out, brushing past him. He was so close to getting out when Alex grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled him back towards him. He stumbled, caught off guard, right into the other man's chest.
There was a moment of stillness, of silence, then Alex's eyes flickered to his lips, and he leaned in. TK was too shocked to do more than freeze, but then, just before their lips touched, he managed to push him off. "Are you kidding me, Alex?!"
"TK, would you just ca-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," he hissed, "is this a game to you?"
"I- look, it was an accident- an almost accident- I just... I still love you."
He laughed, a little hysterical. "Fuck you and your love that means absolutely nothing."
"Did you take anything?" he asked as he jogged after him.
"None of your business."
"TK," he sighed, exasperated.
"Alex," he sighed, mocking.
"Please, just- oh God," the fear in his voice had TK looking back at him, and the sight he was greeted with was terrifying. Twenty, maybe more, walkers (or infected, or whatever they were supposed to be called) were stumbling around, walking in their direction. Alex was frozen in fear.
He grabbed onto his ex-boyfriend's arm and put his finger to his lips. He shoved Alex behind him and walked backwards, ever so slowly.
They almost made it.
Alex stumbled, and he must have gotten hurt because he howled in pain. TK cursed inwardly as one of the infected cocked its head to the side and turned in their direction.
The others followed.
Then they were running. He hauled Alex up and off the ground and took off running, trying desperately to keep quiet. Alex tried, too, but he was obviously in pain, so he kept making small, pitiful noises, and TK resisted the urge to put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds. When he looked back, not all of the walkers were still after them- only four, so he took his knife out of his pocket and held onto it tight.
"You should leave me here," Alex grunted.
"Shut up," TK panted as he tightened his grip on him.
"I'm only slowing you down, TK. You have to be smart about this."
"Shut up."
Two seconds later, TK was tackled to the ground, and his grip on Alex slackened. Three of the infected were on Alex in a second, and TK watched in muted horror as they sank their teeth in his neck, in his torso, in his legs.
The sound of a snarl only registered seconds before an infected lunged for him. TK rolled onto his back and lifted his arm to protect himself.
It was instinct.
The pain of the bite didn't register until after he'd lifted his arm and stabbed the thing in the head.
He swallowed down the pain, and the sorrow at the sight of Alex's mutilated body. As quiet as can be, TK stood up and stumbled away. He looked back every few seconds, just to make sure he wasn't followed and breathed out a sigh of relief when every time, he wasn't.
It was a small mercy that at least the infection seemed to take out their sight, weakened their hearing, because otherwise, TK would have been screwed.
He looked down at his arm, at the two bite marks, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He was already screwed.
.
Quarantining in a 6x6 cell, with a raging fever and unimaginable pain, was not an experience he ever wished on anyone. His bones ached so badly that all he could do was lay curled up on his side, waiting for the end.
"TK?"
"Hey, dad," he rasped, attempting to sit up.
"Don't. Don't get up, son."
He let out a breath, relieved, and slumped back against the floor. "Is this normal?"
"What is?"
"The fever, the pain- I thought the infection only got really bad towards the end?" he said, moving just enough to so that he's able to look at his father, "this feels like getting the flu, only it's ten times worse."
Owen shook his head helplessly. "I don't know, kiddo."
"That's okay," he assured him, smiling.
"It's not."
He didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.
.
He didn't know he was screaming until there were arms around him, pulling him up against a warm, solid chest. It took him a second, but he recognized it was his father holding him, and he relaxed. "Dad, what the hell is happening?" he panted into his father's chest, "this isn't- this isn't right. Something's wrong, dad."
His father murmured something, but TK couldn't hear it.
"Kill me," he begged him hoarsely, "please, dad, please."
"TK," he whispered, horrified, "I can't-"
"Please, dad, I don't want to turn into one of those things."
His father's arms tightened around him. "You won't. You're not gonna turn, TK."
"I don't want to," he managed to say through the haze of pain, "dad, I don't want to turn."
"I know, kiddo. I know." He rocked him gently, side to side, like he'd done when TK was a boy, and he couldn't say it wasn't a comfort.
"Please."
"Shhh," Owen whispered, running a hand through his hair, "go to sleep."
TK sank into the embrace and let sleep take him.
.
Hours passed- there was no headache, no nosebleeds.
The second day passed- there was no memory loss, no seizures.
The fifth day passed- there was no hearing loss, and he could see everything as clearly as ever.
The seventh day passed- he was still alive.
He didn't get to see anyone beside his father, who looked both happy and concerned during each visit, so when Joe and David came one day, he knew something was wrong. "What's wrong? Where's my dad?"
They shared a look, one he couldn't read, then opened his cell.
TK backed away until his back hit the wall. Something didn't feel right.
"Joe?"
"I'm sorry, TK."
"What-"
David grabbed onto his hands from behind, and though TK struggled, it was futile.
Joe produced a syringe, already filled with whatever the hell they wanted to give him, and TK lost it. He screamed, he kicked, and clawed and bit and begged, but none of it mattered.
There was a prick of a needle, and ten seconds later, he started to feel the effects.
His thoughts slowed, his tongue got heavier, and then- there was nothing but darkness
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if the end of the world was here (where would you choose to be?) Part II
Summary: Two lonely, broken souls find each other in a broken world, and somehow manage to save it.
The Zombie AU
AN: let me know what you guys think! This is mostly unedited and written like a million years ago so I hope it's okay.
The woods were eerily quiet, so when Carlos took a deep breath, aimed his rifle, and fired, the shot rang so loudly in the near silence that it managed to startle him.
He looked through the scope, and was relieved to see the deer slumped against the tree, dead.
He felt a momentary sorrow for having been the cause of its death, but he buried it down quickly.
Once upon a time, Carlos Reyes had stood up to his father and refused to go hunting with him, but now it was something he couldn't avoid- not if he wanted to survive in this world.
He packed up his equipment quickly, slung the pack on his back and hurriedly made his way down the small hill he'd been purched on since this morning. He was ten feet away when he heared the crunch of leaves and cursed his luck. They'd come quicker than he anticipated.
He slung the deer over his back, ignoring the blood running down his back, and broke out into a run.
He was quiet as he did it, months of practice making him light on his feet, but it didn't matter- the smell of blood was strong in the air.
He heard their growls, their panting breaths, their running footsteps, but he didn't let that deter him- he just ran faster.
His cabin was within sight when he was blindsided by one of the infected, who tackled him to the ground. He fell with a grunt, but rolled over quickly and pushed them- once a human, now something else entirely- off him first with his hands, then with his feet to its rotting chest. His foot connected with its ribcage, making a squelching sound that used to make him sick to his stomach but now was something he barely noticed, and he quickly grabbed his gun from his ankle holster.
One shot to the head, and they're gone- dead for good.
He scrambled up off the ground quickly, grabbed his pack and the deer, and made a run for the cabin.
Carlos burst in, threw his kill on the ground, and wasted no time in settling in by the window, his second rifle already set up in a way that gave him full view of the ground surrounding his place. He waited, one minute, two, seven, ten- there was nothing.
He breathed out a sigh of relief, rested his head on the window sill and closed his eyes. He gave himself one minute, just one to rest, then got up.
.
He hated this part- skinning and chopping and cleaning- almost as much as he hated the act of killing the animal, which is saying a lot. He'd been doing it for a while, and yet, he'd never gotten used to it.
It took the better part of his day, and the rest of it was spent trying to get the blood and the smell off him, the water so cold it made his teeth chatter long after he finished his shower.
He started a fire, grabbed his book and settled down on his makeshift bed for the night. He knew, just a few seconds later when he couldn't get himself to focus, that tonight was going to be a restless, sleepless night, as per usual.
He groaned, abandoned the book and stared into the fire. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. It should be peaceful.
It should be good, because it was the thing he'd always craved- peace and quiet.
And yet- it was not.
Carlos had gotten used to being on his own. He'd gotten used to it, but it never stopped hurting, still a bleeding, gaping wound.
He missed being a cop and helping people, he missed going to the farmer's market and the grocery store, he missed Sunday dinners with his parents, his sisters and their families. He missed the absence of brutal violence he now inflicted daily. He missed the touch of another human being on his skin.
Six months.
It'd been six months, and the ache in his chest for everything he had before, everything he's lost, only gets worse with time.
.
He spent his days looking for supplies (food, blankets, medications) and his nights staring at the ceiling, barely sleeping, until he eventually passes out for no more than two hours at a time.
Six months of this, and he's just about ready to give up.
Before quarantine was implemented, Carlos tried to find his family. He'd gone to his parents' house, then to both of his sisters', and he'd found nothing- all three houses had been deserted.
He'd panicked, and searched, but ultimately, there was nothing he could do, nothing to go on.
And when he'd gone back home, two hours later, he'd been horrified to find it burnt down, the people gathered around celebrating Carlos' loss, and he'd seen red.
He'd flown off the handle, firing off a round in the air and threatening to shoot, but even as a part of him took satisfaction in their fear, ultimately, he realized it was pointless.
Whether or not they were afraid meant nothing.
Carlos had lost everything.
He had no home.
He didn't know where his family was.
He was alone, in an unknown world.
It was terrifying.
.
The first time he killed one of the infected, it had been a boy, probably fifteen or sixteen, and no amount scrubbing had helped clear off the image of the boy's blood on his hands.
As much as he hated to say it, he'd gotten used to killing them since then. It wasn't any easier, but it was a necessary evil. Thinking of them as things, rather than people helped, too.
After nearly a month of living in his car, he'd eventually found a small cabin, deep in the woods, and settled there. The days were long, the nights even longer, but he somehow made it through. Not without scars, or nightmares, but, still- he was alive, and relatively okay.
It wasn't much, but-
What else was there?
.
On one of the many sleepless nights, Carlos decided to venture out more in his scouting the next day. His supplies were dwindling, and the nearby stores had already been emptied long before he even got here, so things like medications, canned food and anything generally useful were hard to come by these days.
The next day when he woke up, the sun was barely out, so he set out to prepare his pack, his weapons and used the last of the coffee beans to make himself a cup.
Then, it was time to leave.
He took a deep breath, locked his door, though he knew it would be useless if anyone came across the cabin and decided to break in.
His car, the only thing he got to keep from his old life, was still running by some miracle, so he used that to venture out of the zone he'd assigned himself when he first got here.
.
He came across a mall about an hour into his venture, and he entered cautiously. He had his gun out, flashlight off, and was on high alert as he cleared every corner, every store. Hangers were mostly empty, shelves were dusty, and anything useful seemed to have already been taken. His shoulders slumped, but he kept going, even as hope slowly diminished the longer he spent here.
He was about to turn around and leave when he heard a snarl, and two seconds later was shoved into the wall, the breath leaving his chest in a rush. His heart beating wildly against his chest, he immediately shoved the thing off him and fired off two shots- one missed, the other hit its intended target.
The problem was, he discovered a minute later as he made his way down the stairs cautiously, the gunshot attracted the attention of about a dozen other infected, and now they were migrating towards him. He knew, as long as he kept quiet, they would have trouble finding him, but keeping quiet on a broken escalator was a lot harder than it seemed.
One wrong move, and they were on him. He shot two, three, five, but one went for his arm, and the gun fell. His back hit the edge of the escalator belt, making him wince, then he lifted up a knee and dove it into the infected's stomach. It didn't do much, but it did allow him a little space to maneuver himself out of the small space he'd been trapped in, and he used it to take out his hunting knife and jam in into its skull. Two more were on him before he could take a breath, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he was gonna die here. He wasn't giving up, but he didn't see a way out of this one.
It gave him peace, the thought of not having to be in this fucked up world anymore.
His grip on the knife tightened for a second, then slackened.
Then a gunshot rang out, followed by about a dozen more.
The body fell off him, and Carlos collapsed to the ground.
A hand was thrust in his face, small and delicate, but obviously strong as he was lifted up and off the ground in one swift motion. The bandana covering the woman's face was pulled down to reveal-
"Iris?!"
"Hey, Carlos," she said casually, smile big "fancy meeting you here."
He was just about to hug her wher eyes widened and she pushed him out of the way.
The infected, probably a seven or eight year old girl, attacked, and Iris hesitated for beat.
That split second cost her.
.
"Where is she?! Where's my sister?!"
Michelle looked terrified as she came barelling out of the gates, and Carlos felt his heart break all over again. Iris was in his arms, her arm where she was bitten covered with a cloth from Carlos' shirt. He was flanked by Judd, a firefighter he'd met on the job a few times, and his wife, Grace.
Grace hurried forward, intercepted Michelle just before she reached Iris, and the older woman fell to her knees. Grace went with her, holding her. Carlos looked away, the guilt eating at him, and his eyes landed on Iris' too pale face.
The guilt intensified.
He closed his eyes.
.
Iris was taken from him the second they entered the compound. He was given clothes, a towel and a nudge in the direction of the showers.
It was only three hours later when someone knocked on his door.
"Come in," he called out.
It was Iris who walked in through the door. Carlos immediately stood up and walked over to her. She waved off his offer to help her and sank down onto the bed.
The watch on her wrist flashed with the number of hours before she would turn, and a lump formed in his throat at the thought. "I'm so-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she cut him off. "I made a choice, and I would do it all over again if I had to."
He closed his eyes.
She grabbed his hand, squeezed it. "I always felt like I was meant to die young," she told him, smile serene, "I love being right."
"I should've paid more attention. I should've kept you safe."
"Carlos, I love you, but it is not your job to do that. I had the opportunity to save you, so I took it. You'd have done the same."
He nodded. "I would've. In a heartbeat."
"I know. Hey, promise me you'll take care of Michelle?"
"I don't think she'll let me."
Her eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears. "Try? For me?"
"I promise."
She pulled him into her arms, kissed his forehead gently. "Take care of yourself, too, and don't feel guilty about this."
He pursed his lips, hugged her tighter.
"No regrets, no guilty conscious," she said as she was pulling away. When she cupped his face, she wiped a few tears that had escaped and smiled. "And- I know the world is all fucked up now, but don't forget to live, Carlos. Don't just survive- live."
She looked down at her watch, turned it off. He knew what that meant, and it instantly made his heart sink into his toes. "Iris-"
She shook her head. "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna do it on my terms. And you know me," she joked, squeezing his hand again, "I hate deadlines."
.
The day after they buried Iris, Carlos considered leaving the compound. He couldn't look Michelle in the eyes, and apart from her, there's no one he really knew there. Judd and Grace were good, kind people, but he didn't know them that well, and they were grieving in their own way.
He was surrounded by people, yet somehow, he was still alone. He wondered if that would ever change.
.
A month into the new arrangement, Carlos finally felt settled in. He still spent most of his time alone, but the people around him weren't strangers anymore. He knew them, he was friendly with them, and though none were people he would particularly call friends, having them around helped. He slept better, he ate better, and he finally felt human again.
He'd found his equilibrium.
So of course that was when life decided to throw him a curveball.
.
"What's this about, Michelle?"
His friend walked briskly, two steps ahead of him. "We have someone very important coming in from the New York branch. We need transport to LA, someone I know I can trust. That person is you, Carlos."
He skids to a stop, stunned, but then shakes himself out of his stupor and runs ahead to catch up. "Wait, why me? Michelle, there are-"
She whirled around, stopped him with a hand on his chest. "I need someone level headed, sharp. I need someone who's a good shot, and knows how to protect. That's you, Carlos."
"Judd-"
"-has requested to not be sent away for too long. He has a wife and daughter here."
He nodded, thinking that it made sense.
"Will you do it?"
One breath in. One breath out. "Yes."
She smiled. "Good."
"Hey, who is it? The person coming in."
"TK Strand, he was a firefighter with the NY FD with his father."
"Why does he need protection?"
She hesitated, but ultimately seemed to cave. "Rumor has it," she started softly, "he's immune."
if we had five more minutes (could i make you happy?) Part I
A dying man racing against time to find a new home for his son, and a desperate man going on hunt for a cure that might not even exist cross paths in a world neither of them recognises.
The Buddie Zombie AU
AN: i'm officially going to start posting this and hope for the best lol. Updating will be every three days or so.
The world ends on a Sunday.
Buck woke up in his bed to a clear, sunny sky, and fell asleep in an underground bunker to the sound of sirens and screams.
He and his team are on duty when the breakout happens and it's announced that everyone needs to find shelter as fast as they can.
Hen packs up her things and leaves to find her family immediately.
Chimney goeslooking for his girlfriend.
Buck merely watches, at a loss, and resigns himself to being on his own.
That is, until Bobby catches him changing in the locker room and tells him to come home with him in a way that tells Buck he's not taking no for an answer.
Buck, in that moment, knows he would follow him anywhere.
.
The world after the breakout is unrecognizable. People are even more selfish, animalistic, selfish. They're greedy and vicious. It hurt, to see people dying and not have the ability to help them.
As a first responder, it goes against everything in his nature.
He knows his teammates feel the same way, sees the way it eats at them when they run away from the danger instead of towards it.
Buck does his best to provide what little comfort he can to them, and recieves the same in return.
.
Things aren't great, but they start to get better little by little. They build their own little settlement, twenty people total, and they establish a routine.
Buck and the people he loves are all alive and well- at least most of them, and he's content.
So of course that's when shit hits the fan.
.
Buck's supposed to be on patrol with Bobby, but instead he's stuck in the medical tent with a thermometer in his mouth and both Hen and Chimney hovering around. "I'm fine," he speaks once Hen takes the thermometer out. "It's just a flesh wound."
"You're not fine," Hen tells him, "it may be just a flash wound, but it's infected, and you have a fever, Buck- 103.7." He winces.
"But Bobby's-"
"He is perfectly capable of looking after himself."
"Someone needs to watch his back, Hen," he says worriedly.
She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back gently. "He's gonna be fine. He'll take one of the new guys with him."
"Hen-"
"Buck, stop." He does, closes his eyes against the sting of tears. Gentle hands run through his hair. "Everything will be okay, Buckaroo. You just rest."
He nods, far from convinced but helpless to do or say anything else.
.
Bobby comes to see him before he leaves. "Hey, kiddo, glad I caught you awake."
"Hey, Bobby," Buck says hoarsely, struggling to sit up.
Bobby doesn't let him, easily pushing him back down. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fin-" Bobby fixes him with a knowing look, so he amends, "kinda sore, but I'm good to go if you want me to come with."
"Nice try, but Hen told me you weren't allowed out of bed."
His shoulder slump. "I don't like you going out alone."
"I'm not," Bobby assures him, "I have Reynolds with me."
Buck pulls a face. "We can't trust him."
"Kid, we can't trust anyone. Look," he starts when Buck wants to argue further, "I would love to have you with me. There's no one I trust more, but you need to heal, so I'll make do."
"Okay."
Bobby smiles gently, pats his hand. "Okay."
Buck turns his hand around, wraps his fingers around Bobby's tightly. Later, he's probably going to be embarrassed that he did this; acted like a little kid, but for now, he really doesn't care. "Be careful, Bobby."
Bobby brings his hand, the one Buck isn't holding onto, down on top of Buck's. "You have my word, kid. I'll be okay."
.
Bobby is late.
When Buck asks Hen about it, she tries to act nonchalant, but he can see her worry plain as day. "Hen, where is he?"
She bites her lip, looks at Chimney and he sees them havig a silent debate. He grinds his teeth, fists clenhed in the bedsheets. "What's going on?"
Chimney takes a step forward, face sympathetic. "Buck-"
His world tilts off its axis. "Is he dead?"
"No," Chimney replies hurriedly, "no, he's not dead, he's- Buck, Bobby was bit."
His world comes crashing down.
.
No one stops him from going to the isolation rooms. Walking is a bit of a struggle, but he pushes through. When he walks through the doors, he finds Athena there, crouched in front of Bobby, speaking quietly. They hear him enter, Athena immediately turning to him. Bobby is slower to react.
Buck breathes out quietly, devastation and relief mixing with bitter denial. His heart in his throat, he takes a hesitant step forward. "Sorry I- do you want me to go?"
Athena stands up, shakes her head. She leaves Bobby with a lingering kiss pressed to his head. "I'll be back soon."
Bobby looks up at her adorningly, sadness evident in his eyes. "Okay."
She walks away, steps heavy. She grabs Buck's hand, places the cloth he hadn't noticed in his hand. "Finish up for me?"
He nods shakily.
She leaves, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Buck stands frozen, two steps from the doorway. He can't get himself to move. Not until Bobby calls his name, and he finds himself walking forward automatically.
Bobby's eyes are on him as he kneels beside him but Buck can't look at him, so he busies himself with opening the med kit and finishing what athena had started. They don't talk, but Bobby doesn't take his eyes off him, Buck can tell. He ignores it, focuses on cleaning the bite wound that's still sluggishly bleeding. His hands are shaking as he places guaze on it, as he wraps it. They're still shaking when he finishes off, when he sits back on his heels, staring at the white bandages like they have the answers he's looking for.
"Buck," Bobby mutters.
Buck doesn't answer.
"Kid, will you look at me?"
Buck drags his eyes up, meeting Bobby's. There's a deep sorrow in Bobby's eyes, and Buck crumbles.
The older man sits up, draws him into his arms, and Buck finds himself unable to stop the tears from falling, sobs tearing through his throat.
Bobby's saying something, but Buck is beyond listening, drowning in his grief and the deafening sound of his own heartbeat.
"I'm sorry, Buck," Bobby mutters into his ear, "I'm so, so sorry."
"What happened, Bobby?" he asks desperately, hands still clenched in the back of the man's shirt. "How did this happen?"
Bobby strokes the back of his head gently, waiting for him to calm down before he speaks. "Reynolds froze, I had to get him out of the way before they got to him."
Buck pulls away. "So they got to you instead," he says slowly, anger starting to simmer in his gut.
Bobby purses his lips. "Buck-"
Buck stands up, holding onto the wall for support.
"Buck-"
He shakes his head. "You said you'd be careful," he reminds him bitterly, "you said you'd be safe."
He doesn't allow him the chance to say anything else, he just stumbles out.
.
"Still mad at him?"
Buck's head shoots up from where he had it resting on his folded arms. Athena's leaning on the door, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you?"
"I am," she answers readily, "but that doesn't mean I'm leaving his side."
He looks down, ashamed, and hears her quiet footfalls coming closer. She sits down beside him.
"Buckaroo, he needs us."
"I know," he says hoarsely, "I'm gonna go back, just- not now."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm gonna cry all over him. Again."
Athena laughs softly, and even that sounds sad. "I think he'd prefer that to the silent treatment."
Buck nods. She puts her arm around him, pulls him closer. He bites his lip to keep from crying again.
.
Buck stays with Bobby for ten hours, stays with him through the headaches and the fever and the delirium. He stays until Bobby calls him Robert, and in the next moment of clarity, apologies for doing so. It's a gut punch, for multiple reasons.
Athena tells him to take a breather, and he all but flees.
He's just stepped out of the door when he bumps into someone, "sorry- Jameson? You okay, man?"
"Hmmm," the other man hums distractedly.
Buck guides him away gently, hand on his back. "Let me take you back to your room, huh? Your mom must be worried by now."
Jameson just shrugs, allows Buck to lead him. They don't talk much, mostly because Jameson is in his head most of the time. They don't know much about the man's story, but from what Buck has gathered from conversations with the young man's mother, the woman he loved died right in front of him, and it was bad. He wasn't the same after.
"There's a cure," Jameson mutters, wringing his fingers tightly, twitching nervously.
Buck stops dead in his tracks. "What?"
"I think there's-" the young man stutters, words halting and unfamiliar on his tongue, "there's a cure."
Buck puts his hands on both the man's shoulders. "Where?"
Jameson looks away, gaze taking on a hazy quality.
Buck shakes him. "Jameson- where?"
.
"Buck-"
"I know it's crazy," he interrupts Athena, throwing shirts and weapons and anything he might need on the road in his duffel, "but I have to do this."
"Buck-"
"You're not gonna stop me, Athena-"
"Buck!"
He shuts up, finally stops moving enough to look a her. The look on her face is hard to read, but at least she's not mad at him.
"I don't think taking the word of someone who's not all there is the wisest thing in the world, but-" she steps closer.
"I have to try," he says softly.
"I know. Lord knows I wanna pack my things and come right along with you," she looks away, jaw working, then looks back at him, "I have to stay here with him."
"I know."
Her eyes search his face, for what he doesn't know, but she must find it because she holds his face with both her hands, tears in her eyes, and firmly says, "you come back, do you hear me, Buckaroo?"
"I'll find it. If it's out there, I'll find it."
She shakes her head. "You're not hearing me," she says firmly, "you better come back to us, with or without the cure."
He nods.
"Okay."
"Okay." He wraps his arms around her, and she holds him back just as tightly.
"Be safe, Buck."
.
Hen and Chimney try to fight him on it, both of them thinking it's a losing battle. When they see he won't budge, they insist on coming with him.
"You can't come with me."
"The hell we can't," Hen protests immediately.
"You have to stay here. You have to look out for them. You're the only people with any real medical knowledge." He looks at both of them, the closest he has to a family, then draws Hen into a hug. Chimney doesn't wait for his turn and simply joins in.
"Take care of yourself," Chimney mutters.
Buck pulls back, nods. "You too. I'll be back soon."
Hen sniffles, points a finger at him. "You better."
«———»
Buck takes a deep breath before opening the package. Inside is a small first aid package and a watch.
He puts on the watch, turns it on.
The numbers 120:00:00 flash in bright green on the small screen.
Buck presses the button on the right and watches, heart hammering against his chest as he watches the numbers decrease.
169:00:00
That's the time he has to save one of the most important people in his life.
