#lamalefixwrites

So he avoids looking in the mirror, he just starts to scrub his face, his hands, over and over and over. Patiently. Slowly. Then all at once, harder and harder. He tries his best to ignore that, no matter how hot the water is, how long and hard he rubs and brushes, over and over, over and over, there’s still blood on his hands. In the bed of his fingernails. Encrusted against his cuticles and his knuckles. Blood, Eddie’s blood. And most likely when all this will reach the end, that smell, of wet, bloodied asphalt, that taste of copper and salt won’t ever go away. It may be the matter of his nightmares forever. But he can’t break, not now. Not now that Eddie is like in a Schrödinger’s cat situation, that is neither alive, nor dead, but also both alive and dead. So he blinks, and just decides to be the old version of himself again, not to let the emotions bleed out. He needs to be that someone long forgotten, that shares so little with his current existence. He can’t break down, he can’t. Not now. Maybe never.

When he gets back into the waiting room, he thinks it’s right about time to go back home to Chris. Eddie would want that, even if that means fight his battle alone, now. He leaves his contacts to that kind nurse, he murmurs something, politely to her. He’d be right back, he needs to take care of his friend’s kid. And maybe she says something, she promises to call him as soon as something happens, but he is already taking off, his phone in hand to call an Uber.

.

Maybe other nightmares will be made of that Uber ride, how to find the right words to tell a kid that his daddy might not come home.

He tries to build a good talk, something empowering and beautiful, about how Eddie is strong, and caring, and will always find his way back to Chris. But the only things that come to his mind are technical and medical words, that sound orotund and big, but also scary like a gunshot. Medical words are something scary, something that carry ominous meanings. As terrifying as grandiloquent, they hold impartial, procedural meaning, but there’s also an implied, underlying meaning, something that hums under the surface of the mere words. Something that talks about death and pain, and smells like blood and detergent, that tic-tocks like the ancient murmur of time.

But the right words, if you have something so heavy to say, must be said with the right mind, with the right heart. It’s the heart that speaks.

And when he gets to Christopher, the kid, always so smart, already knows, just by looking at Buck’s body language that something is off.

Buck crouches in front of the kid and just speaks, softly. “Your dad isn’t coming home tonight”. Maybe forever, he leaves unsaid. And he is about to say something more, something reassuring, something that doesn’t sound frightening, but Chris clings to him, hugging and sobbing, and he loses all his words and the other gear clicks in again and he turns back to his usual self. And there’s that voice, the one he doesn’t want to hear chanting in his head I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. it repeats like a mantra, or some sort of enchantment or a prayer. Emotions bottling up, and kicking on the tap, ready to spill around like a fountain.

So he leans in and hugs Chris tighter, trying to comfort him and to seek comfort for himself.

But then Chris moves his tiny, beautiful head. “You should be with daddy” he says, voice thin and broken. “He needs you more than me”.

And Buck can see, like it’s the first time all over again, how is so easy to love this marvelous, resilient, strong kid.

“Go stay with him, make daddy happy” he murmurs, his voice muffled against Buck plain dark t-shirt. “I want to come… but… hospitals are scary now”.

And Buck nods, tugging Chris closer and closer. “I know, they are”.

“But Daddy is strong. He is going to be home soon, because I know you helped him” he steps back on his trembling knees and blinks a wet smile to Buck.

“I did my best” it’s all Buck can say.

“Dad knows” Chris nods, moving to caress Buck’s face with his tiny hand. “It’s going to be okay, kid”.

And Buck can’t really break now, so he launches forward to hug Chris goodbye and then steps out of the house, leaving him in Pepa’s capable hands.

She says something, it sounds like a recommendation, paternalistic and stentorian, but also like a prayer. And he just nods, maybe his lips don’t tremble that much when he promises her to do his best.

.

When he gets back to the hospital, there’s still no echo of voices in the waiting room, he moves like a phantom now, like the one thing he didn’t want to be. Not now. He is broken, and he doesn’t have to be like that. He doesn’t get to be broken. Not now. He can’t.

He doesn’t mind how long he stays there. At least the mask filters that classic antiseptic smell that clings on the linoleum. He moves his eyes every time the doors, jolting, a giddiness of pure terror, every single time he sees a doctor passing by.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the 118 to arrive, for Ana to get to the hospital, for Pepa to get Abuela there. They all start to talk all at once, and Bucks answers, ever polite, because Maddie would be upset if he isn’t polite. They offer him coffee, and he says no thanks. They ask about the situation, and he says the same as before. They ask how does he feel, and he asks he doesn’t have a sucking chest wound.

He just stays there for a while. Eyes open, focused on that tiny little crack in the blue paint of the waiting room, moving from time to time, to the door. Waiting. That’s what you do in waiting rooms.

And at some point, then, his eyes go lost, and his mind gets all blank, so that he doesn’t jolt when the surgeon comes in. But someone moves in the periphery of his field of vision, and he focuses. There’s this tiny woman that’s talking, medical terms, but something, something glimmers in her eyes.

He perceives a movement, in the periphery of his field of vision, he sees Ana and Abuela walk away with someone that looks like a surgeon, and he feels his limbs tremble. His heart throbbing in panic.

The voice, the one he didn’t want to hear, that chanted over and over in his head in Eddie’s house not so long ago, now murmurs something pretty different. All this time wasted, all this time gone. Something like an echo, like a memory, like he could really have hoped that Eddie has seen him the way he's seen Eddie. Something he doesn't even want to put into words. Maybe in another place, in another time, in another lifetime, they'd find each other and live a happy, lovely life together, but if Eddie survives all this, this isn't going to be their happy ending. He has Ana and Buck really can only be the harbinger of terrible memories for him. All this time wasted, all this time gone.

No need to panic. However it goes, he will still love him, but not the way he wants, not the way he doesn't even allow himself to wish. So then he sits back into the plastic chair in that hospital waiting room, blinking his eyes shut, and, well, he waits. He waits for the news to come, whatever it is. He waits for the gear to roll in backwards and shut him down yet once again, closing off and making him the empty vessel he needs to be.

Then Ana comes back in, and something shifts in that room.

Hospital waiting rooms can’t be that packed right now, with COVID-19, so it’s even more unbelievable and nightmarish at the same time. The stillness, the silence, in this moment of the night is kinda scary. And even if there’s people around now, people he knows, all fussing around Ana, now that she’s back in the room, he feels alone.

He just can’t hear what they are saying now, he just can’t fathom why Ana looks so upset, like on the verge of crying upset, and unbelievably relieved at the same time.

Maybe switching off your emotions lowers your empathy too. Well that should be how it works, really, easier. He maybe would live better with just bottling all this shit up. He can do this, bottle up, get his shit together, no reaction, no crying, nothing, no stupid emotions, his heart only trembled when they took Eddie in the ER, and then when he had to talk to Chris. But he can stay there, motionless, hollow, like the Navy SEALS he was so afraid to become. Switching off emotions is easier when something hits you hard. He doesn’t have to react, he can close off, just stop aching. He just doesn’t have the right to ache like that.

But then he hears them calling, Ana calling. He hears her talking. And he needs to focus, so his gear clicks in and he shifts his gaze. “He is asking for you”.

And maybe he moves even before he knows, muscle memory, all over again, and he is in the corridor to his room in a second.

Ana’s heels ticketing after him. “Buck?” he hears her voice calling him.

So he stops mid-step and looks at her.

She stands still, her fingers tap and straighten their grip on the shoulder strap of her bag. “Take care of them. Of Edmundo and Christopher” she says.

And Buck furrows his brows. “I’m just going in so he knows I’m all good, Ana” he replies, again out of consciousness, now his top priority is going to see Eddie now all awake and finally out of that Schrödinger’s box. “I know he would love to be taken care off by a beautiful lady”.

“I don’t make him happy, Buck. All he and Chris do, is talk about their adventures with you… and I don’t know if you know how you make their eyes sparkle bright when they talk about it, about you… you make them happy” Ana explains, and he can see a beautiful smile on her lips, even if it’s covered by a mask, that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Take care of them”.

“That’s not true, Ana… trust me” he tries to say.

“I was only the best, easier, choice he thought I would be. I overheard his conversation with Carla, I didn’t… you know, wanted to change a thing but…” she assures, and it doesn’t get an expert to know that she is feigning this: her voice is plain, and calm, but thin and croaked at the edges. “Go make him happy”.

“I don’t think that’s what he wants, Ana” Buck murmurs. And it’s true, he doesn’t think Eddie wants anything more than friendship from him. They do have a beautiful friendship, in hindsight. The best thing Buck could ever think, but he hasn’t ever really thought about making a move past that point. There’s a thin line he doesn’t want to surpass, that line that might or might not, make their friendship a bit over the PG-rated things. But… well. It’s not that he didn’t think about it. He just wouldn’t have asked for more. That’s not what he does. He has already more than what he bargained for.

But Ana continues, tilting her head, eyes softening a bit. “He asked for you Buck, for you and Chris and I think he was pretty upset when you weren’t there with him, trust me.” she replies, moving forward and giving him a soft pat on his shoulder.

“I─I─I don’t know what to say?” Buck babbles.

Ana shakes her shoulders. “Just go”.

And he doesn’t need to have it repeated again, he starts again in the corridor and finds abuela talking to the surgeon. And she smiles under the facemask, and says something to him, something that he nods politely in response.

When he opens the door to that room, that recovery room, he is taken aback by what he finds there. Even if he knows what he would find there. But there’s no room for that old version of himself now, that one trained to switch down emotions, and every single feeling, good or bad, or whatever you may call them, washing over him like a storm.

The recovery room is an area near the operating room, with all the monitoring equipment and specially trained staff. And he knows what he sees. All the equipment. There’s an intravenous drip, inserted in the back of his hand, that gives him fluids, a surgical drain, that lets all the fluids into a small bottle. And the heart monitor is doing its beep beep sound, at every breath of… Eddie. That’s what he didn’t want to see and yet the first thing he wanted to see.

Eddie is pale, not as pale as he was on the way to the hospital, or while Buck tried to save his life, or while he was bleeding out on the ground. But pale. He has horrible, dark, or more purplish circles under his eyes. The ventilator sticking in his nose and mouth open. There’s still the shadow of his own blood on his own cheek but that will eventually be wiped off very soon.

And Buck moves, and doesn’t look where he is going so he literally walks in the plastic chair that falls over with a loud thud. And Eddie whines a soft, raspy groan.

“-ck?” it’s what comes from Eddie’s mouth.

And Buck swears under his breath. “Shit, oh shit... Sorry, didn’t really want to wake you” he says fast and breathless, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Buck?” Eddie repeats, and it’s a relieved sound, like a sigh, like something long awaited finally got to happen.

And so he moves, he first steps closer to the bed about to sit there, but he really just kicked the chair out, and so he needs to pick it up before moving closer to Eddie. “I’m here, I’m here, Eddie” he says, putting the chair back in place and moving closer to the bed, enough to let Eddie see his face and take his hand between his trembling fingers. “I’ve got you, I’m here”.

And Eddie smiles. A soft, tired smile, and closes his eyes, and seems to swallow painfully. But when he blinks his eyes open he seems more focused, pupils reactive and another smile curves a corner of his mouth, before turning into a tiny grimace.

And before Eddie can say a thing Buck moves and takes the glass of crushed ice and with a spoon helps it to Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie gulps, closing one eye, tightening his grip on Buck’s hand at the same time. “Thank you”.

“You are welcome” Buck answers simply.

“You saved me” Eddie points out, a furrowed brow and a confused expression. “I was… thanking you for that”.

“I’m pretty sure the surgeon has the merit of it all” Buck scoffs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing a little growly sound, that can be some kind of imprecation, all in all. “You had my back” Eddie murmurs, his voice sounds like a tired, broken whisper. And even if focused, his eyes are wet, tired and Buck, god, can’t help but think about that brief chat with Ana, just a few moments ago. He just wants to make him happy, protect his heart and Christopher’s with every beat of his own heart. “You had my back, I knew you were the right one”.

“You are talking nonsense” he chuckles. “Who knew you were such a lightweight for painkillers, or at least you are on the pretty good stuff”.

“You saved me” Eddie repeats, louder. “Take a bit of credit and sit.” and when Buck starts to move, Eddie’s grip on his hand tightens a bit. “Don’t go…”.

“I’m not going anywhere” Buck assures with a tiny snort.

Eddie rolls his eyes, the littlest smirk curling on his lips. “You look like… someone who wants to… flee”.

Buck sighs, a weird, almost whimpering sound, and executes the order, moving back, but not letting go of Eddie’s hand, to bring the chair closer to the bed. He isn’t going to flee, he simply isn’t ready yet to that conversation, to all that amount of different kicking emotions that are moving in his head, in his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

But Eddie doesn’t say anything more. He just looks at Buck, a soft, fond, happy expression on his face for a bit, Buck couldn’t say how long, until Eddie starts to doze off.

“Stay here. Don’t go” he asks and it sounds like a plea, while he closes his eyes and his breath comes even at every movement of his chest, like he is already asleep.

“Rest,” Buck whispers, his lips mouthing a soft peck on the back of Eddie’s hand, right below the bruise of where the IV enters his skin.

“That doesn’t count as a first kiss” Eddie protests.

And Buck scoffs. “You need to take me out to dinner first”.

“… had enough near death situations… we could skip a date…” Eddie whines adjusting his back on his pillow, but doing so he moves his injured shoulder. “Owh”.

“Easy there” Buck recommends.

Eddie looks at him with his wide, brown eyes. Pupils dilated a bit due to the painkillers, maybe. “Stay” Eddie repeats.

“I’ll be here, you’ll find me here when you wake up” he promises.

And Eddie does a thing with his face, a stupid yet fond expression, and hums a pleased sound. “You’d better be. We need to talk”.

But now that the finish line is near, now that it’s all a little quieter and that future is now palpable between in his fingers, and he’s on his way to where he wants to be, all the things he bottled up are now pressing against the airlocked door. Frank helps, ever so cryptic, Christopher helps with his beaming smile, and Buck, Buck who’s simply there, awake and talking, always looking and waiting for him every single day, helps. Even his parents help, in their own way, when they don’t question his educational choices with his son or on his life choices, in general.

And maybe it’s because he’s happy now, happier, because he finally sees the light at the end of the tunnel, he finally sees the finish line and it’s almost where he wants to be, with his beautiful and smart kid, next to Buck for the rest of his life, that the door, always well closed, is giving in.

It started with a nightmare, one night he wouldn’t know how long ago, but now it’s all more present, heavier, more urgent. Because now he’s finally lowering his defences, something that before he couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t let go. And this thing that eats away at his eyes and eats his days, it sticks to him like a bad habit. It’s the distant, familiar hissing of the smoke, just before the explosion, just before Buck was torn from him, trapped under that house, in that hell of flames and ashes.

It smells like smoke, that night, in his nightmare it doesn’t even look like a ton, it’s just the smell of something, even a piece of paper, burning. And he has the clear feeling of the wind sweeping on his face the dust and dirt, the temperature rising.

And before he can react, can run to the burning house that collapses piece by piece, Buck’s voice echoing mechanically in his head, he wakes up.

And it takes a moment to remember.

Just to remember that the bed is only temporarily empty and cold, that Buck will soon, very soon, as soon as the doctors decide he can be discharged, he’ll come home, and he shouldn’t feel so… broken. He really shouldn’t but─

His blood is pounding in his ears as his heart is pounding in his chest. Between his trembling fingers he holds the sheet while his feet tingle.

Clouded by a sleep that hasn’t been at all restful and by a nightmare that has taken his breath away, his head needs another moment to realize that that uncomfortable feeling that now hangs on his chest like a boulder, the heart throbbing and the sight blurring as if looking at the room through a strange wide angle, is something he already knew. Something that has accompanied him for a long time. And that sometimes hurts more than a heart attack.

It’s panic, plain and simple.

But as usual he decides to bottle all this and label it as “having a moment”, and closes again the door of his airlocked room.

.

It’s one in a long line of nightmares, which usually only take his sleep away when he’s at home, and not when he’s at the station, alert, ready for a call.

He’s gotten pretty good at covering up even in front of Frank’s expert eye, little conversations about future plans now that Buck’s coming home soon, about how his parents are spending Christmas with them in Los Angeles, how Christopher decided that Santa Claus still exists, despite all the evidence. He talks about the complicated relationship between Buck and his sister, how he can help them to pacify, him who was about to give up. And he speaks of it lightly, trying to ignore the spectre that awaits him at home at night, or worse, that will appear as soon as he is alone.

This isn’t the time to break, not now, not now that Buck is coming home. He’s just having a moment, he has to bottle it up and close the door and forget. As soon as Buck gets back, everything’s gonna be fine. He has to work, he can’t burden Buck, or his parents or… absolutely not. He just has to get over it and continue. Autopilot and go. So, when he remains alone he plants his fingernails in the palms of his hands and tightens his eyes so hard and tight as not to think, the murmur of the smoke hissing in his ears, the sirens flashing behind his eyelids.

At first he decided it was just a reaction to all the stress, to everything that he and Buck found themselves living, but now it’s like chronic, a bad habit. Before there was that murmur under his skin, that didn’t make him sleep much, that urge to hit things to vent everything that’s crowded in his head in the only way he knows for sure works. But he’s been down that road before, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. And now things have changed, Buck’s getting better every day a bit more and he’s on his way home, and Eddie really doesn’t know what to do, because as soon as he lowers his guard, he’s there on the edge of the cliff, there ready to break.

Then again, it’s not the time. It’s not the time to break. It’s not the time. And in his heart, he knows, as soon as Buck’s out of there, as soon as they’re off those straw yellow walls, he’s gonna get better, and even if he breaks a little bit, Buck’s gonna help him get all his bits back and put them back where they belong. All his things in the right place, the bottles still behind the hermetic door.

Buck has a trained eye, perhaps more than Frank’s, and can recognize the fractures and the tiniest cracks in Eddie’s mask, and as much as he wants to avoid going to Buck’s room and burden him with his bad mood and everything he carries around, he can’t help himself. Now that Buck’s talking, still cheerful even when the day is awfully long and tiring, Eddie can’t force himself not to go. The few times he didn’t visit, he spent over an hour on the phone with him, but that’s not enough. Buck knows, and maybe just because he’s polite and kind doesn’t say it, but he knows Eddie’s broken, and he’s doing everything he can to be strong for both of them. Buck survived hell, a real hell, and back, struggled for months between life and death, and when they were letting him go, he came back with his own strength and he’s getting better, every day he’s a little better, and yet he’s still keeping Eddie afloat, swimming, swimming, and swimming like Dory. And it should be this the time that Eddie is more needed, to make Buck feel better, he shouldn’t be the ballast and take Buck down alongside with him, not like this, not now. He can’t take his son and Buck with him into his abyss, he should at least collect his pieces by himself, close the door of his emotions for good and bottle everything, every single thing. Forget the panic, the terror, the loss. Forget everything. But the only way he can forget and close it, now, is by going to Buck’s and spend time with him. What they call a snake biting its own tail.

He goes to him either before he goes to work or right after, as soon as his shift is over, even when it’s late and he should be home already.

The routine is new and at the same time always the same, he sneaks into the room when he knows for sure that there is no one other than Buck, and climbs the bed and then falls there, with a boisterous poff.

And Buck usually mumbles, if he’s asleep, or laughs breathless if he’s awake, tightening his arm around his shoulders.

.

It’s the same on Wednesday. After two intense weeks, the entering in December that made people even dumber, that tend to crowd in stores to shop (nothing as scary as Black Friday, but enough to have to free people from under the shelves on a daily basis), his parents, who wander around the house and even judge his choices on the smallest trifles, after a very long weekend, in which materially he could only see Buck via Facetime, and a very heavy meal over at Bobby’s that was their late Thanksgiving dinner, finally that Wednesday he managed to go to recharge his batteries before going to work.

Eddie’s seen a lot of things, a lot of weird things in his life, maybe too much even. Between his time in the army and his work here in Los Angeles, he’s seen a lot of quirks. But this is beyond anything else.

It’s mid-afternoon, when he gets to the hospital and he hears Buck laughing and chirping something at someone or something he describes as adorable, so Eddie thinks it’s Maddie, who again brought him the latest pictures of her baby girl, that Buck can’t wait to meet to become an uncle full-time, especially now that between them, after that half discussion, has returned a tranquillity and complicity that Eddie envies.

But when he turns the corner of the hall, ready to enter the room, he finds Ramon Diaz himself sitting next to Buck’s bed, showing him pictures from his smartphone. His father laughs and tells anecdotes and Buck definitely seems to have the moment of his life.

And Eddie must have suffered a head injury and it must be some kind of hallucination, or he went crazy, that’s all that could have happened at an initial examination. By bottling his problems, he lost his last neurons in the effort, it’s called apoptosis, the process of programmed cell death, or maybe he caused a clot or something. It’s the only reasonable explanation.

When Eddie enters, his father gets up and bids his goodbye to Buck. “I guess that’s my cue, I’ll leave you in good hands”.

“In the best hands, I’d say” Buck quips, shaking his hand. “Say hello to Helena and give Chris a tight hug for me”.

“Will do” Ramon nods, passing next to Eddie and squeezing his hand on his shoulder blade. “Be good” he recommends jokingly before sneaking out the door.

Eddie looks at Buck in disbelief, all busy taking a sip from his straw, and he doesn’t know whether to call himself incredulous or worried about that blow to the head yesterday, a water bottle addressed to Hen that Chim launched with his terrible aim and took him behind the back of the head, which clearly caused real, permanent damage.

“My dad?” that’s all Eddie can mumble, confused.

“What can I say, I’m my usual charming self” Buck jibes, shrugging his shoulders before spreading his arms. “Have you come to recharge your batteries?”

“My Buckeries, yes” he replies by crouching on the bed with the usual noisy poff.

Buck caresses the back of his head with his fingertips and grins. “It seems that Chris and your abuelita did some convincing work on your father who now decided to be supportive and decided to come over here to probe the territory and assess the sincerity of my feelings… and bribe me with some compromising photos of you as a child”.

Eddie snorts, rolling his eyes. “Dios, how inconvenient was it from one to ten?”.

“Well, as a kid, you were pretty adorable… and judging by what he told me, Chris gets his sassiness from you” he murmurs, his tone cheerful, happy.

And Eddie couldn’t ever fathom the idea of Buck and his father getting along. “I mean with my dead, was he… you know?”.

Buck snuggles closer, his fingers carding softly in Eddie’s hair. “Well, he was a bit weird at first. But if you count I had a lame talk with my dad before I met your dad, it ended up smoothly”.

“What a beautiful little shitty day” Eddie growls, looking up at him, to try to understand, only from his eyes, from his expression how much the phone call with his father stuck on him.

“Could have been worse” he says, with his bewitching grin. “At least my dad stopped with the usual litany and convinced himself that you and Chris are good for me, plus now I can snuggle with you for a bit, and that’s somehow turning it perfect”.

“You are a sap” Eddie snorts, but then narrows his eyes. It’s been a long week for Buck, too, with long conversations, not to call them phone fights, with his dad over something he didn’t tell Eddie about, he just knows they’ve been talk-fighting a lot. Buck doesn’t talk much about his family, he hasn’t even given him any details about how he and Maddie figured their argument out, much less about his parents. And in addition to feeding the hospital with his insurance and maybe some donations, the man hasn’t shown up there yet, not to mention the mother who’s never even heard from as far as Eddie knows. “That’s good, then” it’s all that he says, rubbing his cheek against Buck’s neck.

“I wouldn’t be so surprised if, along the way, my dad and yours started playing squash together” Buck murmurs.

Eddie snorts. “I think my dad would play his hip before he played squash”.

“I thought it was my father’s too, but instead…” Buck grumbles and shrugs. “Maybe they’d prefer golf,” he adds. “Or maybe we better not support their friendship, it would be weird”.

Eddie nods softly. “We might as well decide not to really talk about our parents, and ignore their existence for a while in our little bubble for a while, what do you think?”.

“It might be a good idea. Charging our respective batteries and talking about the weather is a viable alternative” Buck mutters tightening his grip on Eddie.

Eddie stays there quietly, eyes half closed. And that thing in his chest, that thing that weighs behind his eyes, those emotions, those negative thoughts all bottled up that are piling up one by one in his airlock, they seem to slowly disappear, while Buck talks softly and tells him about physiotherapy, the last visit he made, new medicines that finally do not leave him a bad mouth, all bitter and dry.

And Eddie is there enjoying the moment, in an almost religious silence, letting himself be lulled by his voice, by his fingers carding in his hair, his breath soft ghosting on his skin.

“What are you doing on Friday?” Buck asks him out of the blue, and Eddie knows he has to exit is daze and answer.

“Friday? The day after tomorrow?” he asks, pulling himself up.

“Yeah, what’s your shift?” he mumbles. “I wanted to know if… I guess it’s a mess so…”.

Eddie closes his eyes. “12 hours. I come in at 9 and I leave at 9”. He doesn’t ask him why, because Buck’s on his way home, and he already knows it’s the last routine visits before he is discharged. Maybe he wants help, maybe he wants company. Buck wanted to manage them himself, all the visits, asking Eddie and Maddie not to be there and both agreed with a certain reluctance: after all he is getting better, and he doesn’t need two bundles of nerves there with him during his visits.

“Ah, okay… no, out of time” he says, then pulling a long sigh and stretching his legs under the covers.

“Evan, if you want I can…” he starts to say. “I can change shift… I can ask Jonathan to…”.

“No, don’t worry. Work is important and then…” Buck murmurs softly. “Don’t worry about it. No problem absolutely”.

“I’ll come tomorrow night and spend the night with you?” he whispers.

“You can’t always sleep here, Eds. You’re going to get arthritis. The bed isn’t that big and you’re all crumpling around me.” he replies. “And every time you leave me here all hard and I have to explain to the nurses that that’s a very very normal, physiologic reaction to my very steaming hot boyfriend”.

Eddie rolls his eyes with a whiff and leans in closer, burrowing in his side. “I’m comfortable like this! and then it will get easier when you’ll be home with me… and I could always help you with that in the bathroom if you want…” he mumbles, and has no time to say no more, or act on that long-awaited quick hand-job in the bathroom, that the alarm clock he set to give himself time to get to the station begins to ring.

“It’s time” Buck says. “I know you want to put your hands in my pants, but you’ll have to wait, mister”.

Eddie rolls his eyes huffing a sigh loudly. “I have to go. I’ll text every time we get back at the station.” he promises and reluctantly rises from bed and begins to recover his things.

“Be careful out there,” he hears him whispering.

With his bag on his shoulder, Eddie smiles and leans over him to put a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight and behave, don’t make too many nurses angry or blush”.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says before he reaches out and steals a kiss from his lips.

.

.

.

The proverbial drop that breaks the camel’s back falls on that Friday night, almost at the end of their shifts. It was a rough day, he didn’t have a moment to call Buck, yet alone to text him, and when he finally managed to carve out those for or five minutes, his phone battery decided to die before he could even make the call, and then the alarm went off again.

Once back, he put the phone in charge and then did his best to lay the table, because he is still banned from the kitchen, and probably will be forever.

By Chim’s great persistent request, the late thanksgiving turkey leftovers had to be transformed into a skewed Mexican fiesta, his words, not Eddie’s.

For the occasion, Eddie’s parents brought their precious help. Complaining about the terrible, horrible, bagged tortillas, his mother set to work kneading them by hand and his father meanwhile shredded his colleagues over at the pinball machine, to Christopher’s immense delight.

.

But before even sitting around the table, as usual for such special occasions, the alarm went of again.

The scene is weirdly, ominously familiar. It looks like his nightmares, or his memories, or a strange mixture of both.

To be cynical, fires all look a bit alike. Fire that burns, walls that give up, smoke, ashes, heat. It’s all easily traced back to other actions, other interventions, and yet…

Eddie can’t ignore the fact that it’s all weirdly similar to that day. What it’s been repeating for nights in his nightmares and he’s trying his best to ignore. To what’s still etched in his mind every time he closes his eyes and probably will never go away.

.

They are a backup for the 412, that’s already on the scene.

The fire is huge, and the cloud of white smoke can be seen from miles and miles away, swelling in the black sky. It started to rain recently and the noise of the water pouring from the hydrants almost covers the echo of voices in their walkies.

This one too is neighbourhood that certainly, before the economic crisis, had to be beautiful, flourishing. Rows of two-storey, pastel coloured cottage-like houses now have plaster mangled by time.

In a corner of his visual field, Eddie notices a bunch of kids getting scolded from a fireman, maybe the 412 captain and a cop.

The backdraft must have brought down part of the house, which is already grotesquely bent over. Part of the upper floor collapsed and chomped on the lower. That too was a beautiful house, in a beautiful neighbourhood, before the crisis and that fire.

The roof, failing, scrunched itself taking away part of the frontage.

The smoke, meanwhile, swells and vibrates, whispers in the sky like a disturbing echo, drums in his ears, like an old well-known song, and delivers a shiver along his spine.

There are people shouting, members of 412 increasing the pressure of water on the house that continues to crumble like a cookie overcooked and dunk too long and begins to look more and more like a pile of flames, dust, and debris.

Bobby barks orders that Eddie can’t hear right now. All the oxygen is ripped from his lungs when a rumble comes from the house, when it folds completely and crumples on itself and the rest of the upper floor crushes the one below. The plywood that splatters off with the glass and the soot like bullets and gunpowder.

They have to act quickly; Eddie must get his fucking shit together and start helping.

There’s a trapped firefighter, he can hear on the radio. A trapped fireman just like Buck. He must have been trapped in the house, too. Apparently, he heard someone asking for help.

This time like that other terrible day, the wind rises, and the speed makes the fire widen even more, which now with much more oxygen burns even more intensely. It is always the change of direction of the air currents that influences most, and dangerously, the fire. And that house now more than ever becomes a trap of flames and smoke.

And they all hurry to bring their help. But the fire is fast, in less than thirty seconds a flame can become an immense fire, and it takes only a few minutes for the fire to thicken and blacken and fill the spaces of the house, that ends up engulfed in the flames. And the fire is hot, the heat is much scarier than the flames, and it goes from 100 degrees to 600 like a trifle. Inhaling this superhot air will scorch your lungs and melt clothes to your skin. And the fire is dark, it , starts bright, but it’s a matter of minutes and it produces smoke and with it, complete darkness. Fire is deadly. Smoke and toxic gases kill more people than flames do, fire produces poisonous gases that make you drowsy and disoriented. And then, then there’s asphyxiation.

At best, this firefighter has had more or less the same luck as Buck finding himself in a kind of free zone, and they just have to find his way out, with the oxygen tank and the turnout gear they might still have some hope, some time. Although the house is now a pile of debris, breath of flames and wind. But miracles rarely happen, and they have already had more than one.

And that’s why they have to put maximum power in the hydrants, to give their best.

But when they hear the torn apart scream coming from someone of the 412, everything seems to stop.

Blood pounds in Eddie’s ears. His heart thuds in his chest. He needs a moment to readjust his shaking hands on the hose and to plant his tingling feet better on the ground. Flames, smoke, and his vision disfigures, darkening.

He tries to focus on the fire hose, ignoring the overwhelming sense of dread, or the fact that he somehow  just forgot how to fucking breath, while his heartrate escalates quickly.

His mouth is dry, his windpipe closing up.

He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be there. Buck needed him, today, he needed him at the hospital. He wouldn’t have asked otherwise.

There is too much of a risk of someone walking over and notice him.

He clutches the fire hose, his hands wrapped so tightly that his nails dug into his gloves. Breathing is hard, like he’d just run around the world and back, his chest growing tight as bile rises in his throat.

He has to get his fucking shit together and help. No one has to live what he and Buck endured, but he can’t do a single thing, with his head spinning, dizziness taking the upper hand and his stomach churning.

And again, like that other time, like when Buck was trapped in that burning hell, he feels detached from the situation, it’s like looking at himself from an external point of view.

.

It’s unreal.

For another couple of minutes, it’s unreal.

Until they finally take that fireman out of what’s left of the house on a gurney, his face covered with a blanket. And Eddie has to focus on something else, his eyes glued on the smoking debris, trying to ignore the pain raising in his chest and the dizziness, as the 412 ambulance moves slowly, surrounded by the crew. He has to remember that Buck is almost home. Just that.

It takes them half an hour to put out the remaining fire, and by the time they hop back on the truck, it’s almost midnight.

No one is talking all the ride back to the station. It’s usually like this when a crew loses a member, but there’s something else in the air.

Eddie’s in the locker room, still feeling a little dazed, battered, tired, even after the shower, breath still struggling to normalize. He looks at his now charged phone and knows he can’t call Buck tonight, it’s already late and he’s probably already asleep, and yet he needed to see him or at least hear his voice.

“You’re seeing too many similarities, let me tell you” Chim grumbles, as the two paramedics enter the locker room, once they get back to the station, after fixing the ambulance for the next shift.

“Or maybe you don’t want to see…” Hen protests, fiddling with her locker, to retrieve a spare T-shirt and a towel, ready to head to the showers.

“No idea you were such a conspiracy maniac,” Chim shrugs his shoulders. “I was the one with the stalking crow”.

And she snorts loudly. “I’m just saying that I think they’re connected,” she states. “Think about it. A fire in a neighbourhood like this, in an empty house, the cop said there were kids there too… then add that the one of the 412 crew members said that they heard someone call for help before getting trapped…” Hen numbers and then she stops. “Sounds like a pattern to me”.

“Plotter,” Chim retorts. “Cap, what do you think?”.

“I don’t think it’s a pattern,” says the captain, shrugging his shoulders. “As different as they are, fires that break out in similar situations have more or less the same pattern,”.

“Exactly what I say, better expressed, but that’s what I say.” Chim replies. “What do you say, Eddie?”.

But he doesn’t say anything.

“But if they’ve heard someone… it just seems…” Hen continues to say.

“I’m sure the fire inspectors will evaluate everything and eventually contact us if necessary,” Bobby replies. “I know when Buck got better and could talk, they heard him anyway, but it’s standard procedure. As we had to do, in the days following his accident”.

“Eddie?” Bobby calls him. “A word?”.

And Eddie sighs in the hurry to lace his shoes and  then follows Bobby out of the locker room. Bobby knows, maybe not as well as Buck, the small fractures in his mask, he knows that somewhere there is a deeper crack, and the mask would crumble entirely.

“Are you all right?” he asks as soon as they are alone. “Is Buck… you know?”.

Eddie looks at him, a certain confusion that clouds his sight. “Yes. He is good, I know you went to visit him”.

Bobby lets slip a deaf laugh. “It took a bit of courage, but the alternative was to get kicked in the ass by Athena. I don’t like to see him there”.

“And think he’s better now,” adds Eddie, the voice stricter than he actually wants.

“I know, I realize. Look… If you had to clock off hours ago, why don’t you take a day off tomorrow and be with him?” Bobby suggests, his voice gentle.

Eddie doesn’t say anything at first. Going to Buck’s could help him feel a bit better, or he could drop his mask completely and he can’t afford to be seen cracked, shattered, broken. He can’t lose Buck; he has to take some time and think. “A few hours will do” he says, “Maybe I’ll come in a bit late and…”.

“Take the day off, I insist. Surely you also noticed the same similarities Hen noticed” adds Bobby squeezing a hand on his shoulder. “And before you ask, I’m telling you to stay with Buck because you’ve been looking like a ghost for days, and today has certainly been hard for everyone… but Buck will do you good. Take a day and stay with him, sometimes the people we love can bring peace in our hearts”.

Eddie grits his teeth, tightens his jaw and nods. “I will take advantage of it,” he says before heading to his truck and returning home, a tiredness that takes his breath away and weighs him down like a boulder, as soon as he is alone.

.

When he arrives at home that night, he is somewhat reassured by the fact that the lights are off and he will not have to undergo a further grilling by his father, who lately weighs his life choices with increasing vehemence. The only light on is the little night light on Chris' nightstand and the one in his bedroom, that is always on when he gets home late.

And it’s like a lighthouse, a harbour to go back to, and so he slips into his son’s bedroom and the weight on his shoulders suddenly disappears.

He has to hold on a bit more. It’ll get better. He repeats himself slowly in his head until his breath completely normalizes and is almost at the point of falling asleep, right then and there, sitting on the ground, near Chris’s bed.

And maybe because his son is a perfect child, or maybe because he has some strange sixth sense, when he moves and just stretches out in bed and opens one eye and then another, he smiles at him, with his sleepy but dazzling smile, and everything seems to disappear.

“You’re back,” he says in his tiny, adorable voice, kneaded by sleep.

“Always” Eddie murmurs under his breath. “You should sleep, you know?”.

“I can stay awake. No school tomorrow… already done all the weekend homework” he snorts and sits up. “So we go to the planetarium with abuelo”.

“And then you’ll get tired… It’s late…” Eddie murmurs, feigning a peremptory tone, which cannot actually slip out of his mouth, in all honesty.

Chris rolls his eyes pursing his lips “I don’t get tired! It’s the planetarium. I learn all the important things! So then when we go with Bucky I’ll teach him!”.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie mumbles, stretching a smile.

“You look like you’re having a bad day,” Chris says, rubbing your eyes. “I’ll take you to bed? I’ll tuck you in!”.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie mumbles, stretching a smile.

“You have the bad-day face” Chris says, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll take you to your bed. I’ll tuck you in!”.

Eddie is taken aback. His son, his marvellous, funny, smart and perceptive son, reads right through him as an open book.

“Daddy” he says softly. “Are you sad?”.

He clenches his jaw. “I’m just a bit tired, it was a long day, and I couldn’t eat your abuela’s cooking”.

“So, you are hungry! Make a sandwich? Abuela took a plate of leftovers for you” he suggests before yawning.

“Nah, I think I’m going straight to bed, you should sleep too, it’s a big day tomorrow” he murmurs.

“Hugs can help. Like we do with Bucky!” Chris asks with his tiny and bright smile, stretching his arms wide open.

“Always” he leans in and sighs softly, in a slight contentment, when his kid’s vanilla and strawberry shampoo hits his nostrils. It helps, it always helped. “I love you buddy, sleep tight”.

“I can come with you, I can tuck you in” his kid says. “You always do that for me”.

“That’s a dad’s job, you know? One of my favourites, really” Eddie says.

Chris moves, pulls the covers aside and gets out of bed with some effort, but without asking for help, when his bare feet touch the floor he mutters something under his breath, and then he reaches his hand out to his dad. And Eddie can’t even describe how he feels right now, he doesn’t have enough words to assess the magnificence of his son.

They walk quietly to Eddie’s bedroom, not to wake his parents and most of all, not to explain why his kid is awake so late.

The light on Eddie’s bedside table is still on, it’s always on when he works late, when Chris opens the door, the wonderful smile he beams to his dad, is breath-taking. “Surprise!” he says, not so loud, but enough to reveal all the joy and excitement.

And it takes Eddie a moment to fully function again. He looks over at the bed and he sees Buck and it’s like a mirage.

There’s Buck, awake in his, their?, bed. A book on his lap and a stupid goofy smile on his face when he looks up at Eddie. “Hey there, honey”.

And Chris giggles.

“Too much?” Buck asks Chris with a smirk.

The kid nods. “You sound like Maya’s grandma”.

And Buck snorts. “Hey! I’m not that old!” he retorts softly. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping by now, mister?”.

“Yes! But I wanted to see daddy’s face” Chris says. “He was sad before”.

Eddie wouldn’t know how he feels now, or at least he can’t put it into words. But happy is certainly not a concept big enough to describe what he feels.

“It was a long day for daddy. But his face surely is priceless, you are right” Buck says moving out of the bed with enough fluidity he doesn’t even look like someone who was literally discharged from the hospital today. “Let’s get you back in bed and let daddy take another shower, he is smoke-smelly” he adds, kissing Eddie’s cheek.

But Eddie stays there like a pillar of salt for a fraction of seconds, and then, out of muscle memory, he tags along, practically jumping back in the corridor. He watches Evan walk slowly, limping a bit, a hand on Christopher’s back. They talk under their breaths, and Eddie’s never seen his kid smiling like that in a long time.

Once in bed, it takes Chris like a couple of minutes to fall asleep again, his breath got measured and deeper, while he was still talking about what he’s gonna do tomorrow at the planetarium, and Eddie looks at him, and he could swear that he’s in full, best shape right now. Buck tucks Chris in and Eddie watches quietly, before heading back to the bedroom that for the first time, across the dark hallway seems finally cosy.

His room is no longer empty, dark, perhaps still a bit too neat and without any personality, but the bed is all undone, Buck tends to roll up in the blankets and must have been there a lot, since even on Eddie’s side of the sheet is all ruffled, a burgundy duffel bag laid on the ground near the closet, the clothes rolled over with little grace.

Eddie would say a lot of things, but his emotions are both strong and devastating. Buck is at home, at home with him, his fingers intertwined with his own, and he has no trouble imagining them, in a while in that bed, his moans muffled in the hollow of Buck’s neck. He can’t say anything until his mind is clear enough to be able to connect two thoughts in a row, but then he gives in and abandons himself against Buck. A hug that means more than just happiness. He’s so happy as his thoughts go, his mind a blank page for a moment, he’s so happy as Buck pulls him in and whispers something against his ear, something that sounds “fuck the shower”, and he’s so happy when, with a weak yelp, they find themselves on the mattress that bounces under them with a tiny, little squeal of springs.

Eddie remembers that, until proven otherwise, he knows how to speak when Buck starts to blow light kisses against the edge of his forehead, as if to draw a crown.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks with a little voice.

“I wanted to surprise you, your face just now was priceless, error 404 page not found… A classic.” Buck mumbles as he barely moves and loosens his hug to settle with his back against the headboard of the bed. “Come, I’ll let you recharge all your Buckeries”.

“That’s what you were talking to my dad about the other day?” Eddie mutters, kicking off his shoes and then knee-butting the mattress until he reaches Buck’s side and crouches against him.

Buck starts to caress his hair slowly with the tip of his fingers. “’bout this and more and more, I told you, anecdotes of you as a child took a lot of time… The plan was to have dinner at the station, Athena and Karen came to pick me up at the hospital and they were going to drop me there tonight… but then you left so I had to move the surprise here”.

Eddie doesn’t say anything. There’s no smell of disinfectants, just his fragrant aftershave, patchouli, and something else with a weird name, he doesn’t even know how to pronounce. He’s not happy, he’s not just happy, he’s something that goes far beyond, something beyond imagination.

“I’ve seen the news, do you want to talk about it?” Buck whispers softly, the voice that now resembles a whisper, which breaks in the depth of his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, and sinks deeper into Buck’s neck. “I just want to forget”.

“We’ll have to talk about it at some point. Especially because I told you down there that we should get married, sooner or later we’re gonna have to face this conversation,” he says, amused.

“You said a lot of stupid things that day,” Eddie groans.

“Oh thank you,” Buck boos, still amused. “I thought I’d die down there. Should I have left you with something or not?”.

Eddie gets up, moving away from that safe harbor that is Buck’s chest to look at him in the eye. He wouldn’t know whether furious, wounded or terrified. Or perhaps a more appropriate mixture of the three. It would mean dozens and dozens of different things, but in the end he just sighs.

“Don’t worry,” Buck tells him, a small lacklustre smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. “It won’t happen again”.

“You always say that, but every time you do something stupid and…” Eddie smacks back. “And I stay here to pick up the pieces”.

“It won’t happen again” Buck repeats, his voice louder, confident. Sure. It’s like he’s not gonna do this shit anymore, he’s not gonna be the self-sacrificing idiot again. “You’re being unfair, I didn’t decide to blow up a ladder truck on my own leg”.

“You don’t know that. It’s almost certain that you’re gonna do something else like that” he mumbles. “And I’m talking about the embolism because you overexerted yourself”.

Buck snorts an unsophisticated laugh, squints his eyes, and just looks at him then, in silence, an eyebrow raised as if waiting for Eddie to finish talking or to reprimand him.

“You didn’t think about us, about the aftermath of all this” he continues. “You were leaving us, without… thinking about what we would do without you. I had to tell our kid that we were going to turn off your life support, because you were there for months and, you, always the hero, would love to help other people, and I feel awful because I was letting you go and…”.

“Eddie,” he hears Buck say, but he ignores his soft voice.

“You have a family here, you have a kid, me, who wait for you at home, you have to think about us. About the people you are going to leave and…” he stops looking at Buck.

Buck gulps, taking a heavy, shaking breath. “It won’t happen again,” he repeats in a steady voice. “And not because I wouldn’t do it again, because given the opportunity I’d most definitely do it you are right. If I had to choose between saving my sorry ass and saving yours or anyone else’s, I definitely wouldn’t save mine… far from it: for you, for Chris, for everyone in our family… I’d let you take the oxygen straight out of my chest” he mutters, words rolling on his tongue in such an effortless way that leaves Eddie almost scared.

And he just sits there, about to argue that this is one of the stupidest things someone could say but he sees him, he sees Evan stretching out to retrieve something in his nightstand drawer, a thick, white folder. A medical record. And everything he meant, which he was about to say, uncontrollable and angry and wounded, every single thing disappears from his head. There is tension, the kind of electricity that now whispers under his skin for a while and that today, just today that it should not be, that there should be only joy, is stronger than ever.

Buck sighs softly, his lips curled in half a grimace. “It won’t happen because I’m not going back to 118. Or in general I won’t be a fire fighter anymore”.

Eddie swallows in vain. The words, the reprimand that dies at the bottom of his throat and the only thing that manages to say is a stupid, weak: “What… what are you talking about?”.

Buck shrugs his shoulders and hands him the folder. “I recommend you not to read the very long list of accessory symptoms that I have and those that I could develop, or the even longer list of medicines that I will have to take for a while or the very sad diet that I have to follow to get back in shape, and go straight to the conclusions of the medical exams I did… the conclusions begin with ‘From the assessments and tests batteries performed by the patient and the equipe…’” he adds, retrieving his book and taking up where he left off.

Eddie looks over at Buck for a full minute before looking at the white folder. He sits better, his back against the headboard to read better and have the bedside light in his favour. He hastens to leaf through the pages. Its words, high-sounding, heavy, deep, describe inflammation of the heart wall, symptoms, pain in the chest, shoulders, neck, back, recurrent fever, palpitations, weakness, and shortness of breath. The cause appears to be the thoracic trauma he suffered, along with that wound whose causes are still unclear, that terrible day. Lab tests, all physiological tests, stress tests, all give the same diagnosis. And with every word, everything becomes clearer and heavier and Eddie’s breath gets shorter and shorter, and his stomach turns, nauseous, and tears sting his eyes. Everything clicks in its place: respiratory problems, nausea, intermittent fever, everything that Buck suffered before waking up and after, during his recovery, everything is there, in that folder and clicks together in a weird, ominous mechanism.

A very small part of him, and Eddie will forever hate that he even felt that tiny, almost transparent slice of him, is almost relieved: Buck won’t take any more risks at work, not with this diagnosis. But he gets chills and is disgusted even at the thought: he was relieved, he was relieved for a single moment that his companion, his lover, one who struggled with his nails and teeth for his work, repeatedly, to get back on his feet, and to get out of the hospital, now can’t go back to work, now can’t─Urgh! What a piece of shit he is.

Buck remains silent for a while, as if to give Eddie time to metabolize how much he sucks as a person. “Pericarditis” then he says out loud, to make it true or to exorcise the word. “One of those diseases that doesn’t allow you to do exhausting jobs and stressful physical activities… I could jeopardize my life and the lives of others. In addition to movement and breathing disorders due to coma and long-term intubation, not to mention possible side effects of the drugs.” he adds with an impressive ease, the voice gentle. “And we don’t even talk about the number of disquieting terms that have been chanted to describe the things that I could develop over time”.

“Evan, I…” he starts to say, but the words die down his throat. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this at all. He couldn’t wait to get back to work with Buck, to watch his back, to those moments of random chatter on the truck, to the bickering with the others, to be able to reach out and know that he would be there. Always there. Because he’s okay now, he’s home, finally, and it’s crazy to even think that he’s…

“In the end, it’s better this way.” Buck murmurs, settling better with his back against the pillows. “At least you won’t have to worry about me while you work. Neither you nor the others… I’ll be the one who’ll worry about you, from home or at the station. I will be on the side of the desperate wives, first row, right chair…” he says sighing. “My father would like me to go back to Hershey… There’s a place waiting for me in the family business, if I…”.

Eddie hastens to disagree, to say quickly that he can’t, absolutely can’t go away and the words are so many and they flock to the bottom of his throat. But Buck goes before him.

“I’ve already told him no. Repeatedly, at some point he’ll understand, I guess.” he snorts shaking his head with a small shrug. “On the other hand, HR offered me a position as a fire investigator. I just have to take a couple of exams; my SEALS training and my degree are enough to qualify and Athena could help me prepare and… I wouldn’t risk it’s practically a desk job so… Could you stop making that face?” he mutters with a raised eyebrow and a kind smile.

Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s doing, all he feels  is his eyes burning.

Buck reaches out and caresses his face. “Oh my God, don’t make that face! I’m not dying. I’m fine, except for a little shortness of breath but at least for sex I won’t have to do an EKG under stress every time, I checked… I asked the doctor explicitly, also because it would be a mess with the health insurance and all…” he tells him giggling and maybe Eddie rolls his eyes, or maybe he is frowning, because then Buck stretches out and sticks his finger pointing in the centre of his forehead right between his brows. “You’ll get wrinkles if you go scowl like that”.

“Evan…” he finally says, with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I─I know how important working with the 118 is to you, being a fire fighter and…”.

“No,” he briefly disagrees. “I mean it’s wonderful working with y’all but… I have practically stumbled upon this job… which is─was perfect for me, yes” he murmurs. “But what is important to me is you, you all. It’s belonging to something. It’s no mystery that my family sucks a whole lot, but I know we’re a family, we would be anyway, even when I’m not working at 118 anymore…  because we found each other, all of us. We became a family, and there’s nothing I want more than this, something to belong to”.

Eddie’s lips quake for a split second before he leans in, kissing Buck’s cheekbone. “What are you going to tell the others?”.

“They know. Bobby knows, when he came to see me, I told him” he babbles. “I already sent my medical records to HR, but I wanted everyone to hear it from me. Tomorrow morning, I take the opportunity to go and sign some papers, which I should have signed today since I would come to the station… Chim knows this because Maddie was with me when I was first told and… Hen read my medical records and already tried to convince me to undergo the surgery”.

He was the last to know, then. Eddie knows it’s definitely hard for him to talk about this, the fact that he’s never going back to work with them, but being the last one to know this sounds like Buck didn’t trust him.

“Don’t even think about it, Eds” Buck grumbles, as if reading into his head. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because it’s easy to say it with them, because basically I don’t sleep with them, and I don’t love them the way I love you. I only had to tell Bobby, basically, this thing rained on the others and… I had to tell you in the most painless way possible, maybe when I was out of the hospital so it would be easier, that’s all” he adds with a small shrug. “That’s because you have to digest this news as much as I do, maybe even more…”.

Eddie purses his lips tight, but he can understand: maybe to find the right words he took a while, maybe he had other ideas, maybe to understand how to tell him he had written a speech and Eddie instead decided to get angry with him, all tense as he is. “How long have you known?” he asks then.

“More or less since I managed to have a minimum of language abilities. I did some intensive treatment, so many times I was more tired than normal but… I couldn’t tell you, not while I was in the hospital. You lost the light in your eyes seeing me there, you were always tired and… tense” he stops and curls your lips as if trying to find the right words. “I didn’t want to make it any harder. I wanted to at least… help, okay? Support you”.

“Buck you were sick, you didn’t have to worry about that, you could have told me, I should have been the one to help… to support you…” he retorts. “I could talk to the doctors, Hen, Maddie…”.

“And let Hen try to convince you of the goodness of this surgery? An operation that, although widely performed, is still invasive, is still a needle that touches the heart and wouldn’t allow me to go back to work anyway?” he mumbles. “Talking about this would have made you even more stressed. No, thank you very much”.

“Surgery?” Eddie repeats.

“I prefer a non-invasive treatment, usually you can have a normal life with pharmacological treatment, without needles in the heart and things like that… If it’s needed, I will undergo a surgery, but for now the least invasive therapy is the perfect therapy… A little orange juice with the meds and go.” Buck babbles. It’s a lot of words all together, so this may have been a stressful thing for him, choosing between the two treatments, and having this diagnosis hovering over him. “And this is an unquestionable decision: I don’t want to spend any more time in the hospital, not in the near future, I will have the nightmares of those lunches for the rest of my life and I don’t want to put you in a position to do those nights again, and that face, so soon… If you’re gonna have tears in your eyes, it’d better be an orgasm, and not because I’m dying or something health-related, got it?”.

Eddie rotates his eyes, but decides to postpone: Buck is attentive to his health, he calculates the risks even when he doesn’t look like it and he does his shit on the field, but he is careful and is a good judge, even when his judgment is clouded by adrenaline. And the fact that he’s still more concerned with Eddie’s well-being makes something swell up in Eddie’s chest. “Do you think you’ll accept… The human resources proposal? You would be a… a great fire investigator” he finally says swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Do you really believe that? The alternative would be without a job, and that would mean burdening on your finances or worse… ask my father for help, no thank you” Buck groans. “I don’t want to weigh on you, I will need a good health insurance… or I could reassess my father’s offer… I mean,” he starts to say, and he takes the medical record from Eddie’s hand. “I guess it’s a lot to metabolize… The fact that I’m not in a decent shape yet, and maybe never will, let’s just say it’s a big deal, huh?” he adds, and his voice trembles. “Man, I wanted to be cool here, but…”.

“Evan, don’t say bullshits like that ever again, okay?” Eddie grumbles, watching him bewildered, and for a moment frowns his eyebrows in a severe grimace before stretching his forehead and sighing for a long moment. “Sometimes I can’t even fathom how stupid you can be”.

And Buck groans, and he’s about to argue but Eddie moves his hand to put his index finger on his lips.

“First, I don’t think I can resist being so far away, and secondly, you’re focusing on the wrong thing here, as usual: we’ll be fine, take as long as you need to get better. Maddie rented your apartment, and this could cover some expenses until you start working again, besides, you’re definitely gonna be a total hottie in the department investigator uniform,” and he moves, then, while he talks softly to put a kiss on his temple, and he hears him sighing. “And in addition to the look, not gonna lie that’s a plus, you’re gonna do great because you’re smart and good, and it’s certainly not just the physique that you joined the fire department… but for your problem-solving skills. A bit of a daredevil for sure but…” he stops and smirks. “Everything is going to be alright”.

And Buck sighs again, like melting in Eddie’s arm.

“Plus, pericarditis can go away on his own,” he adds, moving again to look at Buck’s face, a slight disbelieving look tingling in his eyes. “What? I’m a field medic, do you remember that?”.

“Oh, I know you are and, you are very good at that, so much that you got a medal” Buck says, a fond stupid smile on his face. “Talk medic to me, babe”.

Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes. “What I mean is, sometimes it takes months to recover from it, but full recovery is likely with rest and ongoing care, that can help reduce your risk of having it again and… I’m here for all the aftercare and surely a desk job could help you… and could help me: you won’t make me die of heartbreak at the tender age of forty”.

Buck laughs, against him. “Idiot, you’re still far from forty”.

“That’s because I’m forward-thinking,” Eddie quips and sits better in bed, manhandling Buck so that he can rest against his chest. “I’ll have to find someone who has my back”.

“Someone who possible watches your back but doesn’t look at your wonderful ass in the process, maybe,” adds Buck rubbing his cheek against his shoulder.

Eddie chuckles, the weight on his heart, always pressing and oppressive, seems a little lighter now. “I knew you had ulterior motives from the very beginning”.

“You started it, anyway… You said I could have your back, I just followed orders, as usual with great diligence and going a little further” Buck replies playful, but his mouth is kneaded with sleepiness and exhaustion. “Aren’t you tired? You’ve had a long day”.

“You too, you went to bed early in the hospital…” he says and a strange sense of horror mounts again in his throat, the awareness that it is over, reassures him and frightens him at the same time: because from what he read, on that folder, with all the commitment, with all the medicines and treatments, even with all the goodwill, Buck will never get back to his old self.

“I didn’t move out of bed at the hospital, it’s very different,” Buck replies, tightening the grip more on Eddie. “The big bed is better, so you don’t break your sorry back and I don’t find myself having to explain to too curious nurses if what they see emerging from under the blanket is or is not my, you know…” he suggests with a wry smile. “It was clearly my happiness to see you every time. What can I say? It’s physiology and you’re so very hot”.

Eddie rolls his eyes with a noisy sigh and blows a kiss in his hair, there is no more smell of medicines and disinfectants on him, the sick smell of the hospital, but the most reassuring and enveloping smell of patchouli, the smell of home. He hols onto him for a second more, that has every intention of becoming a minute and then moves to disentangle from Buck’s hug reluctantly, but he really needs a moment to himself. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower, ‘cause I smell like smoke, as you kindly pointed out”.

“You could sleep here even covered in mud as far if you ask me” Buck complains. “As I said, finally I won’t have to explain to the nurses… oh wait, there are your parents here!” he adds with the tips of his ears red. “Damn, I had not calculated… It would be difficult to explain to your father or worse to your mother…”.

Eddie throws the pillow in his face. “Sleep that’s better, because you rant when you’re tired. I don’t want there to be a sentence, an idea or an eventuality where you talk about erections or sex to my parents, I don’t want these terrible images in my mind. I’m going to wash off my day and I’ll be right back,” he adds and slips into the bathroom.

And before he closes the door, he hears him growling in mid-voice. “I thought you liked it when I was rambling! I love you, by the way,”.

“Me too,” he says and closes the door behind him.

He rushes into the shower, the station shower is a godsend, but it isn’t enough to make the smell of ash disappear from his nose. The hot water is not enough to wash off that discomfort he’s been carrying around with him for days, maybe months, and now they’ve collapsed on him all at once, with that fire and the awareness that he can no longer work with Buck, everything changed completely.

But when he goes back to his room, his room that until that morning was empty and bare and now, instead, lived, Buck’s clothes crumpled on the bag, the book open on the ground, the curly and ruffled hair that stick from under the sheet, he’s all curled up with the eyes covered by the fabric, he feels better.

Everything changed, every single thing changed, but somehow they’ll manage to be okay. They will be.

When he settles down and moves the sheet to take some from Buck, he hears him moaning and sees him raise his head, opening an arm, as if to invite him, and Eddie does nothing but turn off the light and crouch against him.

It can’t go wrong if one has the other.

.

The nightmare is around the corner anyway, and Eddie wasn’t ready for that. He feels the heat of the day just spent burning on his face, the smoke that stings his nose, his fingers tremble. The nightmare turns in that ambulance, this time, his blood-covered hands as he performs the CPR, the high-pitched sound of the heart monitor. And then it’s dark, it’s so dark and  wet, there’s the noise of the water and the smell of mud, that has a particular smell and he’s practically immersed in it now, his hands burning, despite the gloves the friction with the rope, the recoil of the rope that tears his breath away again.

It’s smoke and ashes, flames of dust and wind, it’s mud and water, and lack of oxygen.

“Eddie” Buck’s voice is like a distant echo, murmuring on his skin like the distant rustling of the wind. “Eddie, it’s okay, it’s okay, just open your eyes”.

And he wants to wake up but waking up means being in an empty bed, alone, in a room that has the smell of dust, and everything is dark.

But then there’s that little kiss in his hair, just over the edge of his forehead. “Eddie, it’s all right, you’re home, Chris is asleep and there are your parents who luckily set the alarm later or else you’ll find them up and around the house in a few minutes… and then there’s me, in all my glorious beauty”.

Eddie snorts a hoarse sound and blinks one eyelid and then the other.

“Here you are, what do you say at this ungodly hour? Good morning. I should recommend the melatonin chamomile that Ines, the night nurse, suggested me, it seems to be a godsend…” Buck gently mumbles. “You know what? We both take it, maybe not when we have a social event or something to do at night, because it seems it can knock a horse out”.

Eddie braids his fingers in the side of Buck’s shirt, and snorts.

“That was bad, wasn’t it?” he stammers. “The ones you had at the hospital weren’t so bad… Maybe being uncomfortable helps your sleep, we should talk about it with a good chiropractor…”.

“I didn’t have nightmares in the hospital,” Eddie says.

“Oh, yes. So much so that I thought it was the bed… that’s why I always insisted that you go to sleep at home…” he explains. “I thought you were too uncomfortable, and it was your back that complained… but if it happens at home, in your bed…” he hints.

Eddie swallows and leans better against him, snorting slowly. “I don’t remember the nightmares in the hospital, I was convinced…”.

“Has it been going on for a long time?” he asks and then sighs. “Of course, it has been going on for a long time, what the hell do I ask? How long? We slept together before, before my… accident… you… what does Frank say? Well, does Frank know about your nightmares?” He rephrases, because Buck knows him, and he knows how hard it is to talk about his feelings, about what happens to him, he knows how hard it is for him not to have control over these things. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me about Frank and therapy, I won’t tell you about my therapy, but… Maybe you could talk about your nightmares, with me or Frank or whoever you want… just to… you know? Pull the cork out of your bottles”.

Eddie blinks, obviously he knows everything. Of course. It’s clear: Buck knows him well, so he immediately realized that something was wrong with the first nightmare that he let escape from his control, in the hospital. Damn it.

“You can’t control your dreams, Eddie.” he says slowly, lips against ear. “I mean you could, if you wanted to… You’re supposed to be practicing lucid dreams, but… it takes time and effort and what we live… I mean, who does your job lives, is complex, so it’s normal that it sticks on you…”.

“You talk like a therapist”, he comments slowly, the words that get stuck on his tongue. It’s not the time to make this kind of talk, they should both sleep; so, when it’s morning, morning for real, birds chirping or whatever, they’ll spend some quality time together. Even when Buck was in the hospital, Eddie was never a great entertainer: arriving after an exhausting shift, or the morning before going to work cut off their time together.

“Trust me, I’ve had enough therapy to write five or six books” Buck chuckles and tightens his grip more. “I can help by keeping you like this”.

Eddie huffs a soft sigh of contentment. “I ask nothing else”.

“And I can listen to you, remember. And guess what? Now I can also answer you!” adds the playful tone.

“Coma jokes, really?” Eddie groans, clicking his tongue on his palate.

Buck chuckles, the chest vibrates and almost seems to cradle Eddie in his embrace. “Defence mechanism, irony. The best of all”.

“You’re terrible” adds with some satisfaction in the voice, fondness, softness. Whatever.

“And think that I got better:” replies Buck, the voice that vibrates lightly in the silence of a still distant dawn.  “First my defence mechanism was denial… I was spinning like a ghost in my ex’s apartment… then you came along and everything changed. I’ve got better because of you, let me help you,” he adds, shifting closer and pressing his hand on the nape of his neck.

And it takes a moment for Eddie to let go completely. The hermetic door, behind which are bottled all the things that can’t control, seems to be on the verge of collapse. He’s breathing through his teeth, his jaw locked.

And it’s surreal, it feels like they are somewhere between nowhere and everywhere, as if that room, the bedroom that only yesterday was empty and off, is on another plane of the existence, where there’s no pain, or tragedy, or fear. It feels like they are floating in the sea, moving and still at the same time.

“All I want is to flip a switch” Eddie murmurs then. “Before something breaks and can’t be fixed”.

“I won’t say that everything can be fixed, Eds, because there are things that can’t be fixed. But people? Yes. People can, no one is wasted, or rotten, or broken beyond repair. It takes effort, love and care… and you know that. It needs time, but we will manage. Don’t bottle things up, because they are going to break at some point and they’ll flood your pretty little head,” he adds, kissing the top of said head.

“But…” he starts to say, but then stops for a moment, to gather his thoughts. “I can’t control this, and I don’t like this… you know, you were…”.

“Okay stop right there. I won’t say that’s in the past, because, I literally was, and I know we’ll have to deal with the consequences of that thing for well long, okay? I have a medical condition to deal with… But now I’m home, Eddie, I mean… that matters, right?” Buck adds softly. “And I’m not gonna leave until you get tired of me, and that’s something you can’t control either”.

Eddie purses his lips. “That’s…”

“Stupid? Yes.” Buck says, anticipating his words. “Like it’s stupid your need to be in control. You don’t need to control everything because if you are this tense, all looking around and trying to watch out, you’ll miss the chance of being happy, the best things happen without a signal boost, an alert, or a fucking bell. You can’t always be in control. No one benefits of full control, Eddie: not you, not me, nor Chris. It’s only going to hurt you, and you know what’s also going to hurt? Your pretty little head if you don’t catch enough sleep before your shift, and you’ll be cranky and Hen and Chim will be a pain in the ass if you are…” he says in the clear attempt to cut this thing short, for Eddie just so he can bottle things up again.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “But I can’t weigh on you. And you have a lot of things you have to deal with, now”.

“We will deal with your things and mine together: it’s what people in a serious, committed relationship do” Buck adds. “You can’t have all that only over your shoulders, because at some point…”.

“I’m already past that point. I’m already broken.” Eddie says, swallowing past the lump in his throat, a lump he didn’t even notice was there to begin with.

“No, you were hurting. Hurting and being broken are two different things, Eddie. Let the people around you help and take care of you,” he adds softly. “You are not alone, you’ll never be”.

Eddie sniffles. He didn’t even notice before, he had to sniffle. His eyes burn, but he doesn’t give in. He’s already almost lost his composure one too many times. He settles on a “It’s hard”.

“Oh, trust me, I know” Buck says. “You were raised like this, all bottling things up and never breaking down around people, but I know you. When this happens you become restless, irritable, tense… even if you try not to be you are…”.

Eddie groans. “That’s not true”.

“It’s true, but that’s your way of dealing with things. You aren’t broken, you are hurting, and you don’t know how to fix yourself, because you can’t fix yourself all alone, you’d let people help you with that. You are a survivor, Eddie, there’s no switch to flip…” Buck murmurs moving enough to regain his position as the big spoon.  “Now, let me cuddle you to sleep” he says.

And Eddie just leans in more, muffling a weird, satisfied moan against his pillow.

“Big day tomorrow” it’s all that comes from Buck after a while.

.

.

.

.

.

The next morning starts loudly.

There’s his father scolding Chris with his grandfather, not-at-all-reprimanding tone, because he opened the door and went into their bedroom to say hello. Eddie is still half asleep when he hears Buck giggling and moving in the bed until he comes out from under the covers and sits on the edge of the mattress.

Eddie stretches and blinks his eyes. Their routine, that of the first, that of the first accident, seems a bit different but practically has already returned, even if his parents have not yet returned to El Paso.

The soft, dim light is the same, it leaks from the curtains that are pulled softly, a thin slit between the two. Perhaps the breakfast won’t be the same for a while, judging by Buck’s diet, which he read quickly last night, which the doctors gave him as a food plan to get fully in strength, it will have to be longer, and they won’t be able to steal as many kisses, or caresses, because not only are his parents still around the house, but because Chris, as much as he tried to mask his malaise in this situation, now he needs to confirm that Buck is home and is here to stay (confirms that Eddie definitely needs too, to be honest).

Buck moves out of bed. “We’ll let your Dad sleep a little longer, hmm? Have you had breakfast yet, buddy?”.

“No! I wanted to wait for you!” chirps Chris and Eddie can’t stay in bed so long if his son was waiting for him.

“Helena made the pancakes, the eggs, the bacon… but you have that diet… she’ll definitely plan something else,” Ramon said.

“Oh, too bad! I’m still on a strict diet of jell-o and juice,” replies Buck very serious which makes Chris laugh breathless.

“He can eat eggs and toast and a yogurt and some orange juice,” Eddie mumbles poking his head out of the covers.

“Uh, buzzkill!” Buck comments sticking his togue out before going to the kitchen with Christopher and Ramon and Eddie hears them chatting animatedly about the planetarium and what Buck will do today.

Eddie gets up, out of bed and decides to take a little trip to the bathroom before reaching the kitchen. He looks less shabby than other mornings, after his nightmare and the abrupt night awakening, he slept much much better.

.

That thing that weighs on his chest, eyes and shoulders is certainly far from going away, but if they both have each other’s back, things will get better.

After breakfast, while Buck, for some reason, persists in helping to tidy up the kitchen, although he should be resting, like in bed, but he is a knucklehead, Eddie accompanies Chris to his room to do a final check on the things needed for his trip today.

“Did you get everything for your day with your abuelitos at the planetarium?” Eddie asks his son taking a look at the backpack.

“Sure! And we’re not going that far, I don’t need a sleeping bag!” Chris retorts shrugging and slipping the camera, a gift from Carla, in its case, before storing it carefully in the backpack. “Will Buck stay with us? But where are his things, Daddy?”.

“His things are in a storage that Maddie got when she rented Buck’s apartment,” Eddie grumbles. “We’ll go and get them, for now Buck can steal my things from the closet”.

“Even the things that were in the station? In his locker?” Chris asks.

“I don’t know, Chimney took them. He took care of Buck’s locker,” Eddie answers, frowning, “Why do you care?”.

Chris smiles, one of his dazzling smiles. “Because I made a drawing and I think it would look good on his nightstand”.

“Ah! So that’s what he went to look at in his locker when he was feeling a little low-key” Eddie mutters spacing out, and Chris giggles. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to have his things back, I’ll send a message to Chim and tell him to bring back at least the ones today since I’m taking Buck to the station to sign some papers…”.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ask him, maybe I’ll have Maddie bring them back when she drives me back here” Buck mutters leaning against the door frame. “Chris, are you ready? Take a lot of pictures, then I want a detailed report, alright?”.

“Yes, Bucky! I also have the recorder for that part about the sounds of the space! Who knows if I can use it” he babbles, putting on his jacket.

“If you ask nicely, I’m sure no one will be able to say no to you,” Buck answers by adjusting his jacket collar. “Have fun”.

“You too! Daddy be careful at work,” he then says, hugging Eddie as usual.

“Ah, no… I have a day off today; I’m just taking Buck to the station and then right back home” he babbles. “So, we are here when you come back and tell us all the good things you’ll see!”.

And Buck smiles adorably, looking at them, and Eddie can’t even define how happy and lucky he is right now.

When his parents and Chris drive away with their car promptly requisitioned from abuela, Eddie prepares for the day and watches Buck settle into this weird new everyday life in his home. Their home.

He’s sitting on his bed and going through his duffel bag with a couple of changes of clothes that Maddie must have brought to him in anticipation of his discharging.

Eddie could get used to this new normal. He might hope that that house, that room, their life, will be nice to them for the rest of their time, he could almost imagine himself all grey, watching the sunset with Buck in the backyard. He might even ignore the fact that they haven’t been together that long, that Buck has spent two-thirds of their new-born relationship in a coma, and that their lives, their job─his job is dangerous and so the years won’t be so nice to them but… He can’t ignore that feeling of warmth that swells in his chest and reddens his cheeks. Growing old has never seemed so sweet.

“Uhm” he hears Buck humming, which brings him out of his maybe too risky daydream.

Eddie cocks his head, moving near him.

“Can I steal you something a little warmer? For some strange reason Maddie decided to ignore my sweaters and just brought me some T-shirts!” he mumbles, showing him all the T-shirts in his duffel bag.

“Maybe he thought you’re used to colder winters than the Californian one.” Eddie replies a tiny smile dangling on the corner of his lips.

“All right, but I think it’s reckless to wear a half-sleeved t-shirt without even having a jacket to cover me with” he mutters.

“How did you get here yesterday? In a T-shirt?” asks Eddie.

“Your mother decided this morning to wash the sweater Karen gave me when I woke up, the white one, for no reason…” he murmurs softly, brows knitted in a frown.

“I’m sure the reason is called sanitizing, Buck,” Eddie chuckles. “Open the closet and choose whatever you want, never stopped you before”.

“Yes, but now we live together; and you complain a lot when I stretch your clothes things bigger” mutters and then looks, frustration cranking in his eyes.

Eddie moves closer to blow a raspberry on his cheek, to make him laugh: if it works on his son, it’ll work on Buck too. “You are going to be back in your usual shape in no time, but you are gorgeous anyway” he murmurs softly, against his face. “Don’t stress too much about it”.

Buck laughs softly heading to the wardrobe. “You are just trying to get into my pants”.

“Not gonna lie,” Eddie says, shrugging and trying to shot him the best subtle wink he could manage.

“You are terrible at this” groans Buck, starting to fish for that grey cardigan he likes so much.

“Am not” he quips, “And I know what you are doing over there, Buckley, you are trying to steal my grey sweater” he says. “You aren’t even trying to be that subtle”.

“It has buttons, it’s easier to put it on, I still have some hardships trying to put on something without buttons or zip-fasteners…” Buck says. “My left arm is still a bit… you know? Stiff”.

“I’m more than willing to help” Eddie says, all cocky wink and confident smile.

Buck looks at him with his wry smile, mincing his way up to Eddie. “You are so terrible at this…”

“Am I, now?” Eddie says moving closer, smacking his lips and helping him to get out of his pj’s shirt. “Is it painful to move?”.

“Something stings every now and then, but that’s normal, doc said. I still need PT.” he murmurs. “Which sucks because I had to re-learn again how to fucking walk and I still have a hard time putting a fucking fork in my mouth from time to time”.

“Evan,” he starts to say, lips primed and a serious paternalistic tone in his voice.

“No, I mean, it’s good… I’m getting better but… you aren’t gonna stay here every single time I need to move or… to dress and… I have a lot of t-shirts,” he murmurs.

“So, we are going to buy you a couple more shirts,” Eddie decides.

“I know what you’re doing here, mr. Diaz,” Buck says, in a mocking tone.

“I’m just saying you are way too hot in your shirts” Eddie shrugs. “Let me help you today. You’ll do everything by yourself tonight”.

“I sure hope not to,” Buck retorts, licking his lips.

Eddie clicks his tongue on his palate. “And I’m the terrible one at this” he groans, manhandling Buck to the bed. “Sit, so I can help with your pj’s top”.

Buck reluctantly executes the order, and Eddie moves his fingers to the hem of the fabric from his shoulders and in a fluid gesture takes off his shirt.

And Eddie moves to retrieve from the bag a plain, white t-shirt to put on. And when he goes back to Buck he has his head bent forward, his eyes shut, a hand over his chest where there’s surely that scar from that day.

“Hey” Eddie murmurs, taking his chin between his hands. “Look at me, mh?”.

Buck lifts his head up, a tiny lacklustre smile on his lips.

“I hear chicks dig in scars” Eddie says, smiling.

And Buck lets out a small humourless huff.

“Let me see it.” Eddie murmurs softly. “The sooner the better”.

Buck doesn’t move for a moment, like pondering what to do.

“I’m not in love with you because of your body,” Eddie starts, “I love you for your big stupid self-sacrificing golden heart, for your pretty little head, for the way you make me feel, the way you made me feel since the very beginning, the way you are ‘round Chris, how you make me smile and… okay even for your stupidly good ass and you know” he moves his hand in a self-explanatory gesture to his lower parts. “You are way more than what you look like. And that is just a mark on you, that means you are alive… you are a survivor, and those are just… signs of that. You won a battle, Evan”.

And Buck rolls his eyes skyward, not saying a thing, deciding to move his hand away.

And even if Eddie knows what he’s going to see, because he saw it open, and saw a lot of wound like that before and after healing, and a lot of them which didn’t heal, it still is a punch in the gut. No wonder Buck wanted to cover it, not for yourself but for Eddie, because he may remember how bad it was on the ambulance, right after he exited that fuming inferno. But now is somehow small, it’s like a narrow crooked pink thread, a few inches from his sternum, almost half a palm long, it healed well, and it may leave a glossy, whitened skin in a couple of years. The pinkish-hot steaming and bubbling blood a long-forgotten memory. Evan lifts his left arm enough to make Eddie see the other scar, the chest tube anchoring one: they used a different technique here, something quite new, introducing a two layered closure to avoid wound healing complication, like a hypertrophic or a keloid scar, and to achieve airtight closure. It’s a tiny one, two inches, scar that almost blend with the muscles and the curve of the ribs.

Eddie moves his finger ghosting over the tissue with the tiniest frown. “You scared me so much, but those are proofs that you are alive, and a survivor. Every imperfection makes us glorious. And as I said, chicks dig in scars…”.

“You are terrible at this” Buck murmurs a lopsided smile.

“Nah, you know I’m perfect and always right. I ain’t no chick but, I’m sure diggin’ in” Eddie says, moving to help him in his t-shirt. “Go wash your teeth so we better get going, you have to talk to Bobby and all…” he adds, throwing in his face that grey sweater. “It’s yours now”.

“Nu-uh! I like it better on you. And I want to steal it every now and then…” Buck murmurs, getting up and going to the bathroom.

Eddie huffs a small sigh, when alone, registering this new normalcy. He’d better keep going, and finish dressing up without indulging so much in his daydreaming.

.

.

.

Their drive to the station was unusually quiet, not weird-tense quiet, maybe content-quiet. Every now and then, Buck would move his hand on Eddie’s thigh, squeezing softly and smiling at him without saying a word. No weird fun facts, no cheesy words, just them and some awful Christmas song buzzing distantly in the speakers. Maybe Buck is a little tense, that’s what Eddie would rationally assume. ’Cause when he gets tense he does one out of two things: either he talks too much about the most absurd and random facts, or he just shut his mouth in a forced silence.

But this doesn’t sound forced, it’s just content, and maybe he’s almost-worrying too much. Because he isn’t worrying, nope, absolutely

When they reach the station, the station, he hears him groan softly.

He doesn’t ask anything just waits. Buck isn’t so good with dealing with his feelings, but he usually isn’t ashamed of talking about them, so he just waits.

“Fuck, I’m nervous like the very first day I came here” he murmurs. “I guess something never changes, even if a lot of things change…”.

Eddie moves to touch the nape of his neck. “It’s going to be alright”.

And Buck rolls his eyes, snorting.

“I’m not terrible at this, whatever you say” Eddie grumbles and moves to get off the truck. “Let’s go, so we can be home in no time”.

Buck steps out of the car sighing softly. “Go on alone, it’s gonna take me forever to climb all those steps”.

“Okay, wait for you up there.” Eddie says.

“You should say ‘No I’ll carry you, my dear’ or something along the line…” Buck complains.

“That’s because you always say I’m terrible at this” Eddie shrugs, before sprinting inside and leaving him practically there, he can still hear him complaining while he walks past the locker room.

The station is unreasonably quiet, like they are all out on a scene, but the trucks and the ambulance are still in there. And they parked between Chim’s car and Bobby’s, so they are surely there. And there’s also Hen’s white coat attached to her locker’s door.

Eddie decides not to think too much about it and go upstairs. A stupid grin curling his lips every time he stops on the steps to look at Buck who’s slowly climbing the stairs, who mutters something under his breath, his fingers clamping on the banister.

When he reaches the mezzanine, he is about to introduce Buck’s a bit too slow grand entrance when he sees them, their family. Bobby, Athena, May and Henry, Michael and his cute doctor ─ David or whichever his name is, Eddie isn’t so good with names─, Maddie and Chim (and presumably their daughter is somewhere, napping in her carrycot), Hen, Karen with Denny and Nia, Albert, his abuela, Pepa and his parents with Chris and Carla. There’s even Nate – the substitute – and some other colleagues from the other shift. All smiling and with stupid glittering hats on their head.

“Surprise” Buck murmurs behind him and the others echo him.

“I thought you didn’t want a party, you know with all the…” he starts to say, and he feels like a deer caught in the headlights.

“That’s not for me, not only at least. But for all of us,” Buck says.

“And the planetarium?” he asks looking over to his dad, and Christopher.

“It won’t go anywhere!” his father says.

“Hoping the San Andreas fault doesn’t act up” comments May softly.

“We are going in the noon” Chris quips moving to hug his Bucky. “You did good, those are a lot of steps”.

“They surely are, and your dad has been a big meanie ‘bout it” he says. “He just sprinted and didn’t even carry me, can you believe?”.

Chris frowns, thoughtful. “You are big, he isn’t strong enough to carry you over here”. And it’s almost an insult for both of them. No more time with Chim for him.

The kids, Eddie’s parents and Chim and Hen snort loudly. “That’s true, kid, tell ‘em”.

“My own kid!” Eddie groans, but he can feel the big smile tugging at his lips. Their family all together there. It almost feels like it’s normal, perfectly normal.

And it’s a quiet, almost lazy day, not like yesterday, they could eat their second breakfast in peace. He can see Buck talking animatedly with Bobby over his toast and his orange juice, the others have platters full of Bobby, Pepa and abuela’s goodies.

Eddie has never felt so happy, in that station. His family all around them. From time to time, he moves his gaze along the table, exchanging a glance with Buck every now and then surrounded by the kids, all smiles and stories and things he didn’t know happened during his sleep. And every single time he looks at Buck, he seems happier than before, his sister a couple of seats away from him because Athena wanted to seat with him and Chris on his other side, so he is quite far away from Eddie but still looking, always looking.

Chim and Hen, but also Carla and Pepa are roasting him, all questions and comments about their new living arrangements, every now and then Karen tries to save his ass, but his parents are there to do the same, in an unusually supportive way. It’s good, it’s something he didn’t want he needed, he wanted maybe, but now it’s real and perfect.

And he’d be lying if he said that when he saw Buck pick up his niece for the first time and start talking to her in that adorable, sweet, silly tone, his heart didn’t take that stupid, almost embarrassing leap in his stomach. The wide grin he has is something Eddie hadn’t even thought was possible a few hours back, last night, or thinking about a few months ago.

He’s lost so many things over the past few months, even Chris’ birthday, that went smoothly, wasn’t a happy moment in his clouded mind. Not to mention all the other parties that took place there, or at someone else’s house, he wasn’t enjoying himself like this in a long time.

The noise is pleasant, the station is back all alive and loud, full of family feels and happiness. It vibrates with something that now as the taste of happiness, of everyday, of normality. And Eddie has concluded that even Nate, the too much happy-go-lucky substitute, is not so terrible if you exchange to words with him.

.

At some point, after cleaning up the table, he sists near Buck still engulfed by May, Henry and Denny, Nia almost sleeping on his lap, and Chris talking about the next movie they are all going to watch with Buck, Maddie’s daughter back in her carrycot, sleeping her blissful, full-stomach sleep.

He waits for the kids to leave Buck be for a moment, and then shifts closer.

“My day off is your doing, right?” he murmurs softly, it isn’t an accusation, he is just stating a fact.

“Yep,” he pops. “I wanted this to be good, and you had to enjoy yourself a bit, with your parents and family, and all the crew it’s good the alarm hasn’t rang yet” Buck murmurs. “I wanted to celebrate life, and not my work slipping away. Work is not everything I have.” he adds softly, burrowing in his side, his head bent enough to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “I have a family, here. And that’s not gonna end if I stop working here. Something the old me didn’t know”.

“New you is a very wise you.” Eddie murmurs brushing his lips over the edge of his forehead. “And I love you so much I almost feel repetitive”.

“You are terrible at this for this reason. I don’t need to hear it. I know you do. And I do too. Your actions speak louder than words, remember? And the way you make me feel… that’s a lot to take…” Buck snorts softly.

“Can we do it now, Bucky?” he hears Chris ask, next to Ramon all intent on beating Chim, Albert and Michael’s asses at the pinball.

“Oh, yeah sooner the better! Eddie you should really see your dad how good is at that, he is a master pinball champion!” Buck murmurs moving from the couch to where Maddie, Karen, Athena and abuela are talking. Eddie’s mom seems to have the best time of her life laughing hard, they are clearly talking about some weird stupid thing either Buck or Eddie himself did. “Hey now, don’t make me look bad in front of my soon to be suegra”.

And that catches Eddie’s attention, while he moves closer to the pinball, more than his dad’s score blinking in red on the machine. But due to the noise around him now, he can’t hear Buck bickering with Athena and Maddie about it. He may have misheard.

But then his dad decides to let the ball, which just sprinted through the ramp, roll over the side of the flip and fall, not redirecting it back into the playfield. And everyone stays silent for a second.

His dad looks over at abuela and his mom, and Eddie’s gaze moves there too, just to find Buck moving closer his hands fidgeting around something that looks like a little box. And it takes Eddie off guard, and something in the back of his head clicks.

“Better doing it now, before the bell rings” Buck murmurs under his breath.

“Go for it!” Hen yells.

Eddie looks around. All those people around them, it can’t possibly be the case, can it? “Are you trying to woo me?”.

“Oh, shut up Diaz I already wooed you a long time ago” Buck says. “This is a bit different”.

“No hot-air balloon for you Eddie!” Chim peeps and Maddie rolls her eyes.

“It’s so unfortunate” Athena retorts.

And Bobby nods. “But at least we are going to avoid rescuing your sorry asses from a hot-air balloon, or a moving helicopter, or whatever was Buck’s idea for this”.

“Better stay on solid ground” Karen says her thumbs up, so that Nia and Denny do the same.

And someone of those present, consent with a certain clamour, mimicking the thumb up gesture with a tiny nod.

Buck rolls his eyes, his ears pinkish, almost red, and looks over at all the people there, a stupid, fond smirk on his face. “Can I just, please ask him to marry me or are we going to do this for much longer? I have to know because I have to kneel at some point”.

A tiny, stupid sigh escapes Eddie’s lips. “No need to kneel, you already asked me”.

“That’s what I said!” Hen quips, and Karen just elbows her.

Buck groans.

“Go for it Bucky!” Chris chirps out loud.

“Go for it” Eddie murmurs, quieter, with a voice so soft he couldn’t even believe himself. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he takes one of Buck’s so that they can be both anchored one to the other.

Buck squeezes his hand and scoffs a soft, mute thank you, before starting again. “No grand romantic gestures, no wooing in extraordinary ways, no extremely sickening cheesy speeches,” he says, his voice soft like his breath on his skin when they sleep together, and gentle like his hands and eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I just wanted this to be ordinary. With the people we care about around us. Because that’s what we’ll have if you make me the happiest idiot in the world and marry me: each other and our family. I already asked Chris and your dad, so we have a green light, you know so…”.

And Eddie rolls his eyes. “You are such a sap and somehow I am the terrible one at this”.

All around them, their friends, their family laugh joyfully. But Eddie doesn’t even notice it somehow. They are there, but they are somewhere else, like that night before, everywhere and nowhere, at the same time.

“Bad habits rub off” Buck smirks, opening the velvety box revealing a simple metal, maybe silver, band.

“We have a lot of bad habits to share” Eddie nods, softly moving a step forward and leaning closer, to kiss Buck’s lips right then and there, in front of everyone.

“Yikes” he can hear from Henry, Chris and Denny.

Buck snorts and rolls his eyes unceremoniously. “It’s that your consent?”.

And Eddie nods, simply. Yet is loud and clear, and soft, and stupid. And everyone else are starting to clap, but the noise is just a drumming in his ears, while he looks over to Buck who high-fives Chris.

“Put the ring on it, Buckley!” yells Carla.

And Buck, always industrious, executes the order in no time, taking Eddie’s hand and slipping the ring on the finger, first the wrong one, his hand clammy and trembling, and then moving to the right finger.

Eddie looks over at his dad and mom, who smile at him, happy and then everyone sticks closer to engulf them in hugs and shake their congratulations.

It’s stupid, and soft, nothing big but perfect.

He looks over at Buck, who beams a smile back at him. “No eloping” he says under his breath.

“No eloping for now” Buck corrects him. “We aren’t in a rom com, yet”.

.

.

.

A/N:

It took me like 6/7 months but here we are! Sorry for the wait! at some point I was about to throw in the towel this chapter didn't really want to exit from my head.

But here we are so thank you very much for your patience and for supporting me with all the love you gave to this work.

If you reached the end of this mammoth chapter you are now my favourite person! I hope you liked this whole 27 pages/16k chapter-mess(???). I really can't English right now, so if you find something that makes your skin crawl, misspellings or mistakes of every sorts please let me know.

So now I'm bidding my farewell to this work I hope you enjoyed the trip so far and you'll follow the developments of the rest of this.

Yes, because this now has become a series! (somehow!!)It took me like 6/7 months but here we are! Stay tuned for more (i could take a month or two, or could take forever we don’t even know)

As always, stay safe and take care of you!

   It’s a dim, soft light that wakes them up every morning. It leaks in from the curtains that are gently drawn, a thin gap between their edges. Buck doesn’t like complete darkness, and honestly Eddie might even sleep on stones. Especially after weary shifts like theirs.

Then there is that breakfast, usually quick, cereals and milk, because in order to steal a moment alone, two kisses too many, the hands that run along their bodies, in that blessed moment when they still don’t have to wake Christopher up, they then get stuck in the bathroom, hands still intertwined in the hair, or pressing on the flesh, small moans that rise, in the shower, and then they have hurry to dress and look like responsible adults.

And there is the way to school, the songs Buck and Christopher sing out loud. And maybe for a moment, just one, Eddie thought he would get a headache from hearing them sing, the very same song over and over again. And instead it is the best time of his morning. Even better than that little friction between their bodies, before waking Christopher.

Then there are the greetings, the recommendations in front of the school entrance, and that little moment of silence before restarting the car, as they watch Christopher hurry to join his classmates.

Then the way to get to the station, where all the others are waiting for them, and there is Evan who smiles in that incredibly bright and happy way.

.

Eddie repeats it and repeats it in all over again in his head, it’s like his anchoring mechanism. And sometimes he needs it, to repeat their morning routine in its every single fraction.

Eddie is a creature of habit, he likes to follow his patterns, his routines, perhaps due to all those years spent in the army. That’s why his life works so well, because they have habits, routines. Evan has messed them up a little, but in the best possible way. Inserting new little gears that alternate perfectly with those that Eddie had already set up in Christopher’s life. They are all happier, they are all more relaxed, and even when there is a small hitch, a small bump in the road, he just has to reach out to Evan, and he makes everything better.

.

And there are hard days, yes, there are always hardships, and there are times when reaching out and taking his hand isn’t enough, but it has never been like this. It has never been so atrocious.

.

.

.

At the fire academy, they immediately make it clear that the fire emits signals that can help firefighters determine the state of development of the fire and, above all, the changes that can occur.

This ability is essential for determining the appropriate strategy and tactics to be used, before moving to act.

Reading the fire means being able to make decisions based on your knowledge and not on simple guesswork or luck.

But then again, luck is a pivotal part of their work.

During a rescue situation, there is a large amount of information that can be found in a matter of seconds, just in a blink of an eye.

When firefighters are faced with fires in closed places, like homes or rooms, they must take into account certain specific signals, in order to have indications on the conditions and evolution of the situation.

The smoke, its colour, its density, its pulsations, its volume and its positioning and the height of the neutral zone.

Air currents, their speed and direction, those ominous whistles.

The heat, the darkening of the windows and little or no presence of flames, the wrinkling and the formation of bubbles on the colored walls, the sudden increase in heat.

The color, volume and location of the flames.

Among all, the smoke is the first alarm bell, the one that could decree the success of a rescue action, which with its murmurs, with its whisper, allows to make a first assessment of the risks, to decide the dynamics, the actions to follow.

Fires are all very different, if not unique, yet all the same. They all have the same destructive outcome. And they are all equally deadly.

The difference lies in the methods of intervention, in the rapidity of response, in the ability to read the signals and anticipate the fire.

.

.

.

Buck was sitting across from him in the truck. He was reading something, all focused, on his phone, he had started at the station and was continuing on the truck. He usually talks a lot, pumped up with adrenaline before he arrives on the scene, but he was still clearly all sulky and pouting about that little argument that the two of them had. Discussing with him is also fun, Eddie would say, almost indispensable. 

Buck is selfless and stubborn, he is one who throws himself headfirst into situations, without even thinking about the consequences. And this makes him the wonderful person he is, the amazing firefighter he is. But Eddie just wants him to take better care of himself. And maybe he raised his voice and Evan snorted a dull grunt and decided to go and clean his locker, something he often does when he wants to clear his mind. And maybe one could wonder what is in his locker that instantly calms him down after rearranging it. But today he was still pouting, all sullen, on the truck, so he decided to read that something on his phone, maybe his current fixation.

They didn’t have time to clear up, the alarm went off before they could apologize to each other, which made him even more intractable as he slipped in turnout gear over the station garments, and had the usual problem of fastening that stupid clip between pants and suspenders.

Maybe Eddie isn’t even sure if he remembers what he told him; the captain interrupted them before the discussion escalated. But he must have said something stupid. When Eddie is worried, he always says something stupid. And Buck weighs his words more than he should.

He reached out, just before they got on the scene, and Buck returned his grip, as usual. A small smile curving his lips. And then they saw it, that whitish smoke.

When they arrived in what was supposed to be a nice neighborhood, before the economic crisis, the smoke was white. And when the smoke isn’t dark, well, that's not a good sign: it means that pyrolysis products accumulate, and there is an absurd heat inside the scene.

It was pure chaos over there. People in the streets and police all over. While they were pulling on the scene, arrived two more ambulances from station 154. And what was happening over there, for sure, was something gruesome: a house fire doesn’t usually need that amount of firefighters but there were at least 3 kids to rescue. Maybe more.

There was a cop barking orders through gritted teeth before he started updating Bobby about the situation. Four kids, a lighter and an abandoned house. A stunt. A stupid joke. All still inside except one, who had decided to lock them inside the house and run away.

And when his friends didn’t find a way out, he needed to call the 911. 

.

The volume of the smoke allows to determine the magnitude of a fire and with a relative accuracy its location. In certain cases there is no correlation between the two facts, and this can give false information on the location, size and state of development. Smoke can move through ventilation ducts or part of the space and appear in unexpected places. The basic principle is that hot fumes tend to rise vertically, and when they reach horizontal obstacles, they look for new vertical loopholes. The longer the path, the more the fumes cool down, mixing partially with the air they encounter.

Opening the door with the ram made the fire develop and inflate, but it was the only way to get in there. The neutral zone started lowering and the fumes thickening. The air was already so fucking hot.

And they  launched in the rescue. They immediately found two of the three kids on the first floor. They were unconscious and therefore Eddie and Buck left them to the expert hands of paramedics, the rest of the 118 who was trying to tame the flames, still not too high and swollen, that didn’t even crackle that much.

Usually, when an opening is created, hot gases come out of the upper side of said opening and fresh air enters through the lower side. A sudden and complete movement of this air flow towards the interior of the room indicates the imminence of a backdraft. In some cases, this can be followed by a reflux movement, so the backdraft occurs a few moments later.

The smoke seemed to pulsate through the small cracks in the wall, through the half-open and lopsided doors, the fire was feeding itself, and with the front door wide open and the windows broken by the pressure exerted by the heat, the air increased the destructive power and the fire has grown in breadth.

The two of them had to hurry.

The change in the wind was enough to put the elements of combustion in motion and in a blink of an eye that house has become hell.

The air flow has become rapid and turbulent the neutral zone has begun to lower more and more, more and more, the pulsations of smoke and air flow have increased the rhythm in a swirl of flames and soot, burning dust, and they seemed to walk on the edge of a volcano.

As they went up to the second floor, they also found the other boy, unconscious and with his leg stuck in a rough beam in the floor.

They were on the stairs, a few meters from the door, when they weird that strange cry, a sound coming from the basement. Like a cry for help.

The temperature had become even higher, even warmer, the wallpaper, the little that had remained attached to the walls and had survived the wear and tear of time, was swelling.

He looked at Buck. He looked at him as he looked at him many times, such despair in his eyes, while he was shaking his head slowly. “We have to go,” he said, “we have to go, we have to get out of here”. 

They didn’t have time to look for other people, to look for other collateral damage. Or they could become it, they could become the collateral damage.

Yet Eddie would have done it, if they had been reversed, if Buck had the boy passed out in his arms, then Eddie would have gone looking for that person calling out for help. He has taken all those shitty decisions too many times, for the sake of good, to save people and not for an absurd hero complex, certainly not. Because maybe he still doesn’t believe it, but Buck is an ace in his job, maybe he’s better than all of them put together, so fucking smart and zealous. And maybe Eddie is so, so selfish since they got together, that he just wants his own good, he just wants his heart not to break. He has already lost so much, they have already lost so much.

That’s why he didn’t want it to happen, for any of them to become the collateral damage of a couple of junior high students’ joke.

“Go on, take him out,” Buck said, hurrying to the door. “I’m right behind you, one last check. No one gets left behind...”.

“Don’t pull your stunts now, get out!” Eddie grumbled.

And then there was the whistle.

.

.

. 

It happened in the blink of an eye. 

A moment earlier, they were leaving that house, and the next moment Eddie is face down on the concrete, a couple of feet away from the door, or from what is left of it. The thirteen-year-old boy still clasped in his arms, the air being torn out full force of his chest. Something, someone pushed him away.

It happened in a blink of an eye.

And the backdraft must have brought down the roof of the house, the temperature was so high that a flashover exploded in all its arrogance. At some point the fire must have grown so high that the heat released by the various levels of fumes has reached such an intensity to trigger a self-ignition of all combustible materials.

And now that he looks at the lopsided skeleton of what had once been a beautiful house, and sees that part of the roof yielded, taking half of the facade away, Eddie shivers: a moment too much and he would have been stuck there. No way out. No way in.

He can’t even understand what happened, his ears whistling with the noise, the dark and rainy night above him, a fuss of colors, the flashing lights of the fire trucks, the fire still sizzles on the walls, the tiles of what is left of the roof falling like burning embers, while the puffy black smoke now stands out towards the sky.

And it takes more than a moment, it takes more than a moment for Eddie to notice it, to realize that something is so very wrong.

And for a moment, in that confusion, someone needs to point it out to him.

It’s Bobby who points it out, the voice crackling on the radio. “Buck, do you copy?”.

No reply.

And it’s like a punch well placed on the ribs, something that Eddie remembers clearly, from a life before, stupid streetfightings and shitty decisions. It takes his breath away. And it’s certainly not the smoke that has that effect on his breathing rhythm.

Buck.

Buck pushed him out of there.

Buck is still inside. No way in. No way out.

And it’s like looking out of his own body, he doesn’t even notice his body moving to leave the boy in Hen and Chim’s care as he stands up and starts, with his knees trembling in a shock of adrenaline and terror, towards the pile of flames and debris.

Buck was behind him, and now he isn’t there.

“Buck? Buck?” the captain repeats before cutting a glare at Eddie, his eyes dark. “You should let Chim look over you Eddie,” he says a paternalistic tone in his voice.

And Eddie feels it, the emptiness, the silence of the other walkie, that digs in his chest, his heart in his throat waiting for an answer.

Nothing.

He is already out of breath, when a disturbing, gruesome roar comes from the house, the roof that folds again, in a strangely comic and blood-curdling way. While a part of the second-floor yields and crushes down. The plywood that splashes with glass and soot.

And Eddie has to stay calm. He has to keep calm, he has to control himself. Even if his whole body would like to run there, he would like to dig, even with bare hands, between the flames and the debris, he would like to pull away the burning embers of that house, to open a passage, to pull him out.

No way in. No way out.

“Cap” he manages to say, his voice like a whisper as he looks at all that devastation. “Bobby… Bobby, we have to go in there, we have to help him... he’s still in there, someone was there... we heard... he was right behind me...”.

A stunt. It was just a stupid joke, fun for four kids. Damn foolish kids.

And before he loses what’s left of his breath in his lungs, before the panic fogs his eyes, he repeats again and again their morning routine.

Again and again.

Until he hears it, the familiar noise of the radio croaking.

And his raspy voice that comes directly from that hell. “... -by” he can hear on the other end. “Bobby” Evan repeats more forcefully.

The realization that he is alive, the shower of relief that collapses on him, immediately seems acid rain: Buck is alive, yes, but he is in there. Hen and Chim approach them after entrusting the last boy to the other paramedics, the ambulance ready to go to the hospital.

“I’m here Buck,” Bobby says, his eyes locked on Eddie.

“Thank God…” comes again from the walkie. “I thought... I feared...” Evan stammers. “I was afraid it was broken and... luckily...”.

“Buck you have to tell me where you are,” Bobby orders, his tone more like a father’s than a captain’s.

There is a long sigh and then a small series of coughs. “Is Eddie out there? He’s safe, Eddie... is Eddie safe? The kid? They are fine?” he mutters confusedly.

Hen taking a tight breath between her gritted teeth, Chim next to her with wide eyes.

“Yes, I’m out here Buck,” Eddie hurries to answer, the radio in his trembling hands. “I’m here, I’m fine, but you must tell us where you are... we have to come get you”.

“You are fine…” Buck repeats, the vaguely incredulous tone mixed with a satisfaction in a broken sigh. “Ah, thank God” he repeats.

“Evan,” Eddie calls him. “Please tell me where you are, we are coming to get you”.

Buck mumbles something disjointed, something incomprehensible. “... shit” he can only understand. “Basement. I think... the house has come down... shit. I don’t see anything, it’s dark... the neutral zone is... it’s getting down... I...” his words out strangled in his throat.

Eddie cannot move his gaze from the house, his knees still trembling, his hands burning from the desire to run there and help. He’s always been rebellious at heart, but never openly: he’s good at following orders, but he must, absolutely must go to Evan, help him out. As resilient as one may be, even a fighter like him, can’t get out of a collapsed house on his own.

There is another noise, deaf, and it comes even louder from the walkie. What remains of the house folds, menacingly.

“Evan!” Eddie shouts, the desperation that tears his voice apart. And he finds the strength to move his legs. The cortisol that runs in his body, the adrenaline that pumps into every corner of his cells. He has to get him out of there, surely there is something, even a little thing he can do, a road he can open.

“Cap the others... are the others there?” Evan asks slowly, the voice that sounds mixed with something, with sadness, pain.

“Buck you have to try to move, old houses like this one always have an access for the basement, can you see it? Maybe with a little luck... we can find it over here and we’ll catch you halfway and...” Bobby mumbles.

“Cap...” comes raw from the other end of the radio, Buck’s voice tired. “Everything is coming down, here, Bobby.” he clarifies. “It’s not worth it, coming in to save me. It’s not worth it… You have ... you all have a family to go back to... you are too... too important. It’s not... I’m not worth it.” he murmurs.

An impossible rage mounts in Eddie’s throat when he picks up the walkie again. “Don’t say bullshit like this. Tell me where you are. You are alive. As long as you’re alive, we don’t give up, you understand? You have a family too, Evan. Please. Don’t say this kind of things…”. And the thing that hurts the most isn’t only the fact that he said it out loud, that he said that he isn’t worth it, the most painful thing is that Evan believes it.

“Eddie...” he hears him sigh, a strange tone in his voice.

“Buck this is an order. You have to move, look for a way out...” Bobby grumbles, peremptory, like a boss now. Even though his eyes show so much concern. “Find the way out, Buck, we are looking for you from outside, okay?”.

“There could be, yes. But... Cap?” he says, tentative over the radio. “It’s all dark and... and... and I think I’m hurt...” he says and hears him just chuckle. “I’m bleeding...” he continues to say and coughs. “But… but it doesn’t hurt”.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This isn’t a good sign. Eddie has seen many injuries, even before being a firefighter. And this is not a good sign, if one doesn’t feel pain, it isn’t a good sign.

“He’s going into shock,” says Hen. “We have to get him out of there, soon Cap”.

That’s enough. That’s enough. They waited too long for act. They are separated and he has to go and rescue him, he has to help him, he can do it, Eddie has saved a convoy, Eddie managed to get out alive from a hell of water, a hell very similar to what Buck went through with the tsunami, or everything else they had faced, both of them and have always found a way to back to each other, they fought their way back to each other, even before getting together.

“Buck, you have to move. It’s an order,” Bobby repeats. “Do you understand? I’m ordering you, Buck”.

Eddie moves quickly: Evan cannot do it alone, not in there, not if he is injured and sees nothing, and it’s dark. But as long as he is alive, as long as he is alive, they can’t surrender, they can’t give up.

“Don’t screw it up, Eddie” the captain grumbles, standing in front of him. “Eddie, you have a son waiting for you at home, and...” he stops and looks at him, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. And Eddie is about to yell at him that Evan has the very same kid, the very same son waiting for him at home too, but Bobby continues. “We have to have a plan to get in, Eddie and you have to get in with at least other people, because if he’s hurt that bad as it seems, you’ll need help to get him out. If you enter from here, what remains of the house could collapse, we need a secondary access, something that has resisted”.

“What if there isn’t any? Nobody is left behind, Bobby. Buck won’t be left behind…” he replies.

“Cap?” the walkie crackles again and Bobby turns his gaze away from Eddie that moment, his hand still holding his shoulder tight.

“I’m here, Buck.” the captain says softly.

“It’s hell in here.” Evan manages to say, and seems to articulate with difficulty. “Don’t come in. It’s not worth... I try... I try to search, okay? Just… it’s… it’s… what’s the word? Dangerous”.

“Of course, it’s worth it, you’re in there! And danger is our job!” growls Chim. “Buckaroo what are you saying? You start looking, we are looking from here... there is definitely a way to reach you, Buck, do you understand?”.

A strange noise can be heard as he speaks, and then a fatigued puff, and again he has shortness of breath and he coughs, and there is a series of words that Eddie can’t understand, but then... “Three nephews… nieces, I don’t care… I just want three” Evan says. And it seems a disconnected, confused speech. “Chim... three kids. I want... I want... take care of Maddie… tell her it’s not scary. It doesn’t even hurt…” he mumbles and pulls a series of coughs that seem to take away all his energy, all his breath. “It isn’t a good sign that it doesn’t hurt... is it?"

Chim turns his gaze to Eddie, but doesn't say a thing.

Eddie can’t help but take another step, getting Bobby’s hand off his shoulder. “I have to go. I have to... he can’t stay under there... I need to take him home”.

“Chim?” they hear him say and everyone turns to the paramedic.

“I’m here, Buckaroo,” says Chim, his eyes shiny, and then he dries his eyes with his harm.

“Maddie doesn’t want a big wedding… she... something intimate... but... you should definitely invite our parents... they didn’t come when she... when she got married to Doug, but...” Evan mumbles, muffled and pained words. “Chim... you’re the best thing that could have ever happened to Maddie,” he adds. “And you will be a good father... so, three kids”.

“Buck...” Chim continues to say , trying to stop him.

And Eddie and Hen hurry to retrieve their full equipment and look, look for the policeman, the one who barked the orders before, because maybe he knows something about the house, or that boy, that boy who orchestrated this stunt, maybe he knows about another way in.

But then they hear Evan talk again. “If... if you have any doubts or... or hardships... ask... Hen and Karen... Bobby and Athena... Michael...” he says softly, and Eddie can figure out that he is smiling, down there, Evan is smiling. Somehow. “Ask Eddie... we know... wonderful parents and... you... you will be among them... you and Maddie will be...” he stops again and coughs.

They all hear the small dull sob that escapes Chim. “Don’t talk like that, huh? I don’t like, you know... tell me about... what were you reading today, tell me about this... While Cap tries to figure out how to reach you”.

Eddie hears him coughing on the radio, and decides he doesn’t even have time to look for secondary access. He will put on a sling and throw himself into the fire if necessary. He won’t leave Buck down there.

“A… nice article1.” Evan says and inhales deeply, there is a dark, ominous whistle in his breath. “Like... like a team of neuroscientists has discovered… found that... there is a way to communicate... to let comatose patients communicate with their loved ones,” he adds. And there is a strange and background noise, it is as if he is moving something. “I see something, I see...” he mumbles. “I think there is... there is access, or an exit... in this case...” he mutters. “Cap?”.

“I’m here, Buck. Try to reach it. We search from the outside, okay?” says Bobby. “Tell us more about that nice article, keep talking to us, Buck,” he adds, taking the equipment too and going with Eddie and Hen towards the skimpy skeleton of that house.

“What did these neuroscientists do?” Chim asks. “Keep talking to me Buck, we have to hear your voice, okay? And you have to stay awake, because if it doesn’t hurt, it’s a bad sign, you’re right. But if you talk to me, it’s good, trust me”.

Buck groans. “With... with a microphone and MRI... they’ve found that... that if patients think about doing an exercise they can answer the questions and... I... it’s hard to explain...” he mutters and breathes a long sigh, which however is broken by a series of coughs. “The fact is that...” mutters and then they hear him curse, a raw sob escaping his throat.

Eddie, Hen and Bobby move to find that fucking side entrance. It must be near the house, but with a little luck the debris left it free.

And here it is, here it is. Under an entire pile of rubble, they see something glistening. With the torches they identify it as padlock. A secondary entrance, like the entrance of an anti-hurricane refuge.

“Buck here we are, here we are!” Bobby tells him, starting to pull the beams and pipes away. “We are coming to get you”.

But the house growls a dark ominous sound, and folds even more. Eddie starts to pull Hen and Cap back, and a part of him, the selfish one regrets doing just so, while what remains of the facade collapses blocking the secondary entrance.

And now he is no longer able to control himself, now he starts throwing all that stuff away with his hands. Without thinking about the rest of the house that threatens to come down, above his head. Evan has to get out of there, Evan has to go home with him and Christopher, and they have to finish planning their summer holidays, go to the science fair at school, to the end of year play. They still have to try Ben & Jerry’s new ice cream flavours. And they have to do many other things. Better fit the time they have available.

They must have more time.

Bobby is next to him now, pulling the debris away with him. “Buck? Buck do you copy?”.

And it isn’t that long until the radio croaks: “The door... the door is blocked...” they hear Evan say all raspy and tired and a sob escapes his lips. “The door... I... I can’t─”.

“The rest of the 118 is taming the flames, Buckaroo, don’t worry , we’re coming, okay?” Hen murmurs, her voice still vibrant with her unwavering optimism and faith.

“Talk to me, Buck, you were saying... the fact is that?” they hear Chim prompt on the other side of the walkie. “Talk to me, continue, please”.

The house growls again, a deep and hard rumble, which makes Eddie shiver. Bobby pulls Eddie away just in time to prevent that what’s left of the roof from falling on him and serving him an horrible end.

It’s surreal then.

The dust and ash, rise in a whirlwind of wind, as a light spring rain begins to fall. The smoke that stands out again white and glimmering in the starless night.

Eddie freezes. They can no longer see the end of all that pile of rubble. They will need a bulldozer, or at least the others, all the people who can help them get rid of all this.

“Buck?” they hear Chim say in panic, and they see him rush to where they are. He curses under his breath.

“Evan? Evan, answer me!” Eddie shouts into the radio and launches back to the house.

“...smoke... it’s white again and... it’s a lot...” they hear him say, his voice that croaks in the walkie. “And it’s throbbing... so...”.

“A smoke explosion? Are you sure, Buck?” Bobby deduces as he reaches Eddie. “We have to go, we can’t stay here”.

“No! No! He’s down there, if there’s a smoke explosion, if... if there is even a possibility... we... he─will...” he murmurs.

“Eddie” they hear him say. And Eddie’s heart gets tighter in his chest. “Everything is alright. It’s not scary, it’s not that scary, it doesn’t even hurt... it will be a blink, huh? You know how it works... it won’t hurt… I won’t even notice, it’s all good. I’m good. I’m good”.

And Eddie knows, he knows him so much better than himself maybe, he really knows how scared he is. He knows how scary it is being alone, being trapped, no way in, no way out. But Eddie, unlike Evan, was lucky enough to find a way back.

“Ev, mi amor?” he murmurs, his lips on his radio. “You have to fight your way back here. We can't help you, but you are strong, cariño. You are brave, and resilient. You are a warrior, you are going to come back to me.” he adds, and maybe his words aren’t at all comforting for Evan, but he has to know at least that, even if they can’t actually go in there, Eddie has unbreakable faith in him.

Hen hurries to join the others, to bring them closer with the hydrants and hoses, to reduce the destructiveness of the impending explosion, while Bobby is almost as helpless as Eddie, while trying to drag him away. They don’t have an action plan, they have nothing, they can’t dig, not by hand, they wouldn’t do it in time.

Evan groans, a pained sound that scratches from the walkie.

And Eddie has to stay in control, he has to have control over his emotions, because despair would be useless, now. Not now, not yet. Not now that they can still find a way to get him out.

“Buck,” Chim starts to say again.

“The article. Yes…” he murmurs. “It seems that... that when they made the patients’ loved one talk over the microphone and... well...” he stops and takes a choked trembling breath. "Their brains have... like... all lit up like the night of July 4th” and Eddie hears him chuckle his amused laugh softly. “I was reading the interview... of one of the... the... neuroscientists and...” he stops again and inhales another short, trembling sigh. “When the brain all lights up like that means that... it means that you experience the people you love with your whole body... with everything you have of yourself. And the brain lights up like that because… because the brain is what makes us, us... and therefore...” he swallows, and it seems painful.

And Eddie bites a raw, ugly sob, Bobby’s hand tightening his grip on his shoulders, as he pulls him away .

“No! No!” Eddie growls trying to break free from him, but with little success, his strength that fails him, the adrenaline that gradually gives in to confusion and weakness.

“We had to get married, Eds.” he hears Evan say in a such a low voice, a quiet tone. “But I’m sure my brain didn’t need a ring on my finger to… to light up like the night of July 4th”.

Eddie feels his knees turn to butter as they yield under him. “You’re not going away Evan, you’re not going away, now we find a way, you hear me? You understand, Evan?” he manages to say, but his voice it’s like a whisper, broken by sobs, the tears that drop slide bitter on his face, and then he starts up again and launches himself towards the pile of rubble, he must free that fucking door, he must, he must get him out.

But Bobby holds him back, pulls him back and the both of them capitulate to the now muddy ground. And he holds him tightly against himself, and maybe he even says something but Eddie, Eddie genuinely can’t hear anything but Buck’s faint, choked laboured, breath.

And there is a moment of silence and there is only the pouring of the water of the hydrants and the rain. Then there is a dull sound, which comes from the radio and Eddie’s heart grows small while he holds his breath.

A moment later there is a long sigh, which croaks loudly on the walkie. “I don’t wish you all sort of gifts…” they can all hear him mumble, his voice kneaded and tired. “I wish you all, time... there was... there was a poem... by Elli Michler, if I remember correctly... Dir Zugedacht2... my nanny liked it so much... she always repeated it to me on my birthday... I only remember the… the… openin’ lines but…” he says, sniffing. “I wish you all what the poem says. I wish you time. I don’t remember well, I only know that... I only know that... hit home. To have time... to have time is a good thing... for everything you love for those you love... I wish you... time to live.” he adds softly and pulls a small feeble breath while sobbing loudly. “It’s not scary because you are there. And I’ve always been afraid to die alone, I’m always the one who’s left behind. But you are there, and I... you were the best thing that ever happened to me, with all the hitches, the bumps in the road... and anger. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he slurs biting back a sob.

And Eddie really needs to say something, to say something, he needs to find the right words, comforting him, but mostly he has to say that Evan should never, never apologize. But…

“Take care of yourself… take care of Maddie, and keep an eye on Eddie please...” he adds sniffling. "You should move away now... there’s a lot of white smoke here... and my oxygen tank has started whistling a while ago so… I don’t think it will take long for everything to blow up,” he gulps, and doesn’t wait for any of them to say anything.

And Eddie can’t move, he can’t leave him. He won’t ever leave him. He’s somehow the one who’s left behind. And it’s funny because once he was the one who always left.

“Eddie?” Evan says softly, after a short minute of silence.

And Eddie sees the others turning off the radio, to leave them a moment.

“Evan, don’t... just don’t” he begins to say . “Don’t, please…”.

“Eddie” Evan quips slowly. “Listen to me,huh? You made me so fucking immensely happy. And I hope I made you even half as happy as you’ve made me...” he sighs and hears him making a lot of noise, he seems to be moving something, he seems to be still looking a way to get out. “You know I’d do anything to get back to you, Eddie, to fight my way back… But, let’s face reality. As shitty as it is.” he mumbles. “I may not get out of here and...”.

“Evan please...” Eddie manages to say, trying not to break now.

“Let me tell you, okay? Let me tell you… Let me talk to you a bit more...” he murmurs. “Because If I stop talking I’m positive... I’m sure I won’t have the strength to...” the voice that comes out hoarse from his throat, like a gasp. “I love you, and you are my forever”.

And it  like a statement, strong and clear, and it takes Eddie’s breath away the sole idea that clearly there’s a but, after that incipit. And he grits his teeth and waits, biting back on his tears, the inside of his cheek that hurts between his gritted teeth. 

“But, I don’t have to be yours. I don’t have to be your forever. One day you will move on, you will move on and… you will get through this, and you'll have to do it for Christopher and for yourself... And when you’ll think about me, if you do, I hope your brain lights up at least a little bit, always...” he adds sniffling. “You made me, oh… so very happy.” he repeats. “And, please... tell Christopher I wasn’t afraid, it wasn’t scary. Even if... yeah it’s dark and... and it’s a little scary…” he heaves out a pained sigh. “Maybe in another life you and I will be luckier. But I’m already lucky enough, you know? Because you... you chose me. Because you never left me. I’m sorry to be the one who leaves you.” he murmurs, and inhales again, and it seems to hurt a lot.

“Evan.” he croaks out, his voice choked in his throat. “You have to, you have to fight a little more for me... it will only take a lot more water and... we will get you out, okay? You just have to... you survived a bomb ... a tsunami... an embolism... a…” and he bites back a raw sob. He can’t cry, Evan doesn’t need him crying now, Evan needs a strong version of this broken shell he is now. He can’t cry. Not now. He must be strong, he must be in control, he must do it for Evan. “You just have to grit your teeth a little bit more, okay? Buy us a bit of time...”.

And maybe Evan is answering him when it happens, maybe Evan says something to him, but his voice is swallowed by the roar, by that impossible roar. That loud roar, that sudden bang that rips the sky open. And from the remains of that house a blaze of dust and wind rises, the rain now beats more insistently, and the hydrants splash at full power.

The debris that splash away. And there’s a fuss of people who crouch to avoid being collateral damage too.

.

And Eddie is there.

Without voice to shout.

Without tears to cry.

Without words to scream.

His broken heart that drums in his ears, it’s the only noise he can hear.

His hand and his knees in the mud while adrenaline lives his body altogether and he freezes there.

Broken.

Hollow.

Empty.

He bites the air in front of his nose as he pulls off his helmet. Bobby pulling him back, in a strange and awkward embrace.

And then Eddie no longer hears a thing.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There is a moment, a very specific time when their rescue actions become body recoveries. Usually they wait, they wait for the flames to be completely tamed, that the area is secured, they wait it all to end.

And that’s what happens, once again. Even today.

Eddie is on the ground, Hen who tried to pull him up not so long ago, when Bobby left him, collapsed next to him and hugged him. And he doesn’t know how long they’ve been there.

And he tries to repeat his routine. The old one.

His and Christopher’s morning routine. He tries, so hard, to remember how it was before, how it was before, without Buck, without Evan twisting it, sweeping his world beneath his feet. His anchoring mechanism, his coping mechanism. Eddie must remain in control, for Christopher, for Christopher and for his own heart, all shattered and broken.

But then he thinks about his son, and he tries to imagine what it will be like tomorrow. How will it be to tell Christopher that, that Evan… that his Bucky won’t ever return home.

And then the world starts moving again, the world starts moving again, or better it never stopped.

Bobby is saying something, orders in mouth. Chim has the phone in his hands and his eyes are devastated by the sole idea of having to call Maddie, heavily pregnant Maddie. And Eddie can’t feel anything except that emptiness. Undying and transcendent. That weighs on him and digs into what’s left of his shattered heart.

And for a moment Eddie imagines him coming out of the rubble like a phoenix. Something epic, something impossible, something heroic. Something that, sure, only Buck could do. 

But it’s all just illusions and, and sad impossible dreams.

However resilient one may be, however strong one may be, none can survive this.

 It’s a moment, but then he hears Hen gasp and shift, forcing him to move too, from where he collapsed against her.

“Eddie, Eddie!” she calls him, her voice vibrant with confused, mixed emotions, or maybe Eddie can’t, just can’t understand what’s filling her voice.

But then he moves his gaze over the house and sees him.

Evan? Evan!

And even before feeling his own body move, he’s already launching himself towards him, towards Evan who struggles out of that pit made of rubble and embers and flames, he drags himself out of there, trudging with his legs shaking.

And Eddie leaps forward and runs, runs at breakneck speed, until he arrives and supports him. His body colliding with Buck’s, who lets out an huffed, pained groan, their turnout coats screeching in that strange embrace. Evan can’t stand for long and his legs give in as he collapses and takes away with all his weight Eddie’s stability.

And Eddie forgot his army training alongside his firefighter training, all protocols swept away all together, he just forgot what you should do in cases like this, he forgot everything. His hands that tremble as they run to the helmet, but Chim and Hen are by him before he can even notice it and hurry to give Evan the help he needs.

They take off his helmet, and gently but steadily fasten a collar around his neck. And he has an open eye and a faint smile on his lips. And he looks for Eddie’s hand, in an uncoordinated movement, and he hurries to take that hand and grips it tight, and heaves out a shaky breath.

And Eddie doesn’t have words in his mouth, or in his head. He forgot how to work, how to function, and that’s okay. He has a very good reason not to know, Evan is alive and nothing else matters.

“Fuck” he can hear Chim say.

“It wa’t th’t bad bef’r" Evan slurs, his voice weak, as he points his open eye on Eddie and smiles more and tightens his faint grip on his hand. “I f’nd a... a niche... ah…” he coughs and blood mounts in his mouth. 

There’re hissing sounds when he breathes in and out. And finally, Eddie has the courage to move his gaze from Evan’s face to see that bright pinkish foaming blood that swells on his turn-out coat. He has a sucking chest wound. Dios.

Meanwhile Evan must have closed his eyes, because Hen hurries to massage his chest with his knuckles “Buckaroo, hey, we’ll take you to the hospital, okay? You have to stay awake, huh? Show us your baby blues, will ya?”.

And Evan barely opens his eyes and coughs painfully, hissing while sucking in air, he has all his teeth stained with blood and the sound of when he inhales is a horrible rattle that croaks deep in his throat. And slowly he closes his eyelids again.

Eddie feels it, that frenzy, he remembers the training, the field doctor who is in him is kicking in, but, but there is a protocol, and the protocol is there for a reason. Evan is his love, his future and with enough luck his forever, and Eddie most definitely can’t take care of him, as much as he would like, he wouldn’t think straight. And so, he only focuses his gaze on Evan, while with the help of his teeth he takes off his glove and rests his free hand on Evan’s face. “Ev, awake. You have to stay awake, for me, okay?”.

And when he manages to his eyes, Eddie is lost in him again. He wouldn’t be able to help him even with all his willpower and all that control that usually governs his life.

And therefore, he isn’t the one who moves, however he knows at first hand what to do in these cases, he really can’t move. Chim is the one who disinfects his hands quickly and put on sterile gloves, and hastens to open his turn-out coat, and removes all the loose clothing covering the wound. There’s something, like a botched bandage, all balled up to cover the wound, soaked with blood. And Eddie looks away again, all that blood, he doesn’t want to see all that blood, not on Evan, not on anyone else, but especially not on Evan. 

And Eddie doesn’t even want to understand what could have caused such an injury, he just wants to look at him, at his stupidly beautiful face even now, all pale and in pain, while the others have to hurry to cover the wound and stabilize him before taking him away.

He sees them moving in the periphery of his visual field, he sees Hen and Chim moving. It is probably Hen who moves quickly to cover the open wound with her hand, trying to put the right pressure, and the small groan that escapes from Buck’s lips gives him this confirmation.

“It’s alright,” Eddie says. “You are with us now, you are with us, everything is fine” he repeats slowly, and doesn’t really care how much his voice trembles or how chocked it may sound.

And Evan swallows painfully and looks at him, and Eddie opens his mouth and perhaps wants to say something, something more. The words of just before they echo in his head. 

It’s as if talking helps him stay alive, it’s like it’s the only thing that keeps him alive.

“Talk to me, mi amor, please” he only manages to say.

“Buckaroo?” Chim demands softly. “You have to exhale, okay? You have to exhale, take all the air out, please”.

And Evan with terrible difficulty manages to throw out all the air he can, coughing bitterly then. 

And Eddie doesn’t look up from his face, he just moves his free hand to cup his chick, to touch with the tip his thumb that adorable birthmark above his eye, which now, now that Evan is so pale and that the night slams on his face, now that the smoke is a faint, distant memory and there are their trucks spinning lights lighten up the night, it is even more evident.

Someone, maybe Bobby, is passing Chim some tape, to fix some medical plastic and gauze on the wound, and make sure that the air doesn’t get in.

And then, before they place him on the stretcher, someone from their team has brought there, they moves Evan on his side and he moans painfully.

“It’s all good, you’re fine, we’ll take you away, now,” murmurs Bobby .

Evan looks at him for a moment, his eyes a little confused and then he lets out a groan hoarser than the others, while he breathlessly draws his breath.

Eddie does nothing but hold his hand, then, as he accompanies him to the ambulance.

And while Hen is rushing at the driving seat, Eddie goes up behind with him: he doesn’t have the courage to leave him alone, even if he is with Chim, who is more than capable to take care of him and is already fixing his heart monitor, and a bag of blood, and a oxygen mask on his face. But Eddie doesn’t have the courage to leave Evan, never.

Bobby climbs in front and orders Hen to really mash his paw down, sirens blaring.

And Eddie closes his eyelids for a moment, and tries to catch up a breath, tries to swallow back the tears that are gathering in the corners of his eyes, and bends to kiss a edge of Evan’s forehead. His hair is flattened and wet with sweat, and reek of soot. He doesn’t even feel how long it will take for the hospital, he doesn’t even notice he is talking to Evan slowly, little comforting nothings in Spanish, something that reminds him of his abuela when he was sick, as a child, and she took care of him.

He cups his cheek, and Evan smiles weakly behind the mask, his eyes bleary and tired. “Luv’ ya” he murmurs.

“You are doing so good, Ev, you are so brave, and strong and...” he manages to say. “I love you too, so much. Hang on, mi amor”.

Evan closes his eyes for a moment, a second too long.

And its because Eddie is so focused on Evan, his eyes fixed on his face, that maybe he notices even before the heart monitor starts to alert with that mechanic whistle, that terrible, frightening sound, even before that Buck starts to gasp for a moment, even before that blood that mounts in his mouth again splashes on the facemask, even before that blood, like pinkish foam, pools under the medical film soaking the gauze that covers the wound.

Eddie turns him over on his Back, so that he has free access to his chest, and moves his head back to avoid the backflow, to help him breath. His chest motionless.

And in a matter of seconds, he places the heel o f his and on the centre of Evan’s chest, and the heel of his other hand on the top of the other lacing his fingers together. He keeps his arms straight and his shoulder directly over his hands. And starts compressing, pushing hard and fast on Evan’s chest. He lets the chest rise completely before pushing down again. And again, And again. And he doesn’t even notice that he repeats like a mantra, out loud Please, please, please, please, please ...

Until Chim moves on him with an AED in hand. And while turning it on he removes all the arranged dressing, attaches the AED pads before saying “Stand clear” and Eddie moves fast enough to let him press the shock button.

And when Evan doesn’t react, his body tense for a mere second, but his heart monitor doesn’t respond, Eddie throws himself on him again, continuing with the compressions.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And perhaps he also feels his ribs give in under his thrusts, under his compressions, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop.

And every time Chim presses the shock button, and Evan doesn’t respond, Eddie’s own heart leaps in his chest.

And Eddie doesn’t have the courage to look up, when those interminable two minutes pass, and Evan gives no signs of response. Because it’s all so dramatically similar to that other time, to that other circumstance. And he doesn’t have the courage, and he’s selfish and just, just wants Evan. He just wants Evan back.

And so he goes on and on, and Chim follows him, and occasionally presses the shock button, and increases the voltage, until they arrive a few miles from the hospital and Eddie looks up. The captain’s voice that echoes far in his ears. “Enough, Eddie, stop”.

Chim reaches out and puts his hands on his. His nose curled while he sniffles and shakes his head. And Eddie can’t connect, he doesn’t even recognize his voice, when that groan runs raw and hard from his throat. And collapses, exhausted, the shoulders that now hurt like hell, on Evan. On Evan who doesn’t breathe.

And maybe he doesn’t say it out loud. Or maybe he screams it. Or maybe he just murmurs it over his chest. Please. Please. Please. Stay with me. Please.

But he can’t hear her words, no sound coming from his chest.

Until there is that whistle in his breath, and that little cough and a dull grunt.

And there is that sigh of relief from Chim. “You gonna give me grey hair, Buckaroo” he hears him say.

And Eddie turns his gaze to Evan and, and, heck. Hot damn. He has his eyes open and the bewildered look.

And it takes an handful of seconds, nothing more, for them to pull in the hospital, the doors of the ambulance open in no time and there are doctors and nurses who are waiting for them out there and they take away Evan from his hands, and  Eddie isn’t able to say anything. 

Chim jumps out of there, updating the doctors and Bobby and Hen surround Eddie, as if it were him the one in needs of support. And perhaps he is, because he is exhausted now, now that his eyes become clouded, and he feels so empty, so hollow, and his colleagues, his family, must help him to stand up.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s all broke, again, now that they’re dragging Evan away, now that he can’t control the situation anymore. And he collapses in the end. There is nothing more to keep in check. Not even his emotions. Not now. He doesn’t have to be strong now. 

Not now. Not now that he has white smoke in his eyes and he feels dizzy altogether. Not now that he isn’t in control. Not now that he can’t watch over him. Not now that Evan is out of his reach.

___

A/N:  *Shields her head with a both her arms* - please don't kill me, at least let me finish all my WIPS! (let me live forever to do so, I'm a procrastinator!)Okay, so, without furhter ado... If you reached the end of this work without wanting to kill me? , you are now my favourite person in the world. Thank you so much for taking your time and use it to you know, read a angsty 9k words chapter, you could have cooked a whole course meal instead, or I don't know, read like 9 1k words stories *laughs nervously* Feel free to leave a comment, a kudo, bookmark, curse me, or whatever! I'm very open to all kinds of things! I hope you enjoyed (???) this first chapter as much as I did (i really did! - and I teared up a lot doing so, proofreading and rereading all over again to cut down something). I hope what you read was clear enough - I really can't English right now *ahahah*, so if you find something that makes your skin crawl, misspellings or mistakes of every sorts please let me know. You'll have to wait a week or so for the next one. Now a couple of marginalia: 1. Here one scientific article about MRI-mediated communication with comatose patients, you may also want to read all the implications about this study - and all the ones that came before and after this, the majority of which are open and you can google it. The implications of this study is really massive: I remember from my days back in university this amazing conference with my neuropsychology professor who talked about this and presented a very similar study, and it gave me literal chills and tears. What Buck says it's a paraphrase of what she said back then. "You experience the people you love with all your body, with all you have, that's why your brain lights up like that, that's why your body reacts like that, that's why you produce all those neurotransmitters and molecoles! Your brain is the thing that makes you, you, and mediates all of your experiences. Love is physiology and chemistry and yet it is so much more, it is unknowable and transcendent", and I think I'll tresure her words as long as I leave. This is the power of our brain. And it's amazing. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk! 2. Here the poem. Stay tuned for more! And please, take care of yourself, drink your water, sleep tight and stay safe at home if you can!