#tiny unit

Buck knew right when they got the info that his partner would react much more than he does, which is rare enough. But this hits way too close to home for Eddie, Buck knows. He didn’t even have to look at Eddie to know once the info came in.

People slipping into costumes, pretending to be soldiers in a historical war, glorifying what should horrify them, and still going on to pretend like that is at all normal? That may very well send a war veteran back to some bad places.

Buck had sworn to himself as they had gotten into the truck that he’d have an extra close eye on his partner. Eddie is normally calm and composed, but there are certain things that set him off edge. And that was guaranteed to be one of those things. Too close to home. Too close to a past you can’t ever shake off, even if you’re normally calm and composed about it all.

Buck enjoys watching documentaries about all sorts of things, so of course he watched his good share of war documentaries, too. And some of that stuff is surely interesting and good to know, but he never understood how that motivated people to put on a costume and pretend to shoot their friends, who are in turn pretending to shoot them, as they are all pretending to be enemies. Not when you could put that money to good use by actually supporting the troops or donating for veterans or literally anything else, but that’s what it is.

Right now, Buck just tries to make sure Eddie does not work himself up too much, to reign him in a bit, but just a bit. While Buck won’t say that out loud, he finds Eddie fussing kind of adorable, actually. Precisely because Eddie normally never loses his cool. He gets fidgety with his hands and there is that clip in his voice. And if things continue at this rate, of that much Buck is aware, Eddie is going to fall back into Spanish, too.

They have to clear the Southern part at the other end of the area before they can head back to reunite with the rest and hopefully call it a night. There are still two people missing who were supposed to enact the Germans meant to go down in blaze and glory.

“If you want to get the real experience, enlist and cry your way through basic training and then go home again!” Eddie continues to rant as they pass through another trench.

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Well, we are trudging through mud to find the pendejosI would be saying it to otherwise, so you’ll have to bear with me here.”

Here we go.

“It’s fine,” Buck assures him. “Curse away, dude. Just wanted to make sure you don’t roast me for that stupidity, too. Coz that’s stupid even by my standards.”

It takes them another trench for Eddie to completely slip into Spanish cursing. Buck just leaves his partner to it, understanding that he needs to vent, no matter the language. It’s not like there’s any harm done with it.

Though from the bit of Spanish Buck understands thanks to his time in Peru, Eddie can express his anger so much more in detail in Spanish, and a lot more colorful, too. He makes a mental note to look up the one involving shit and milk, set on working thatinto conversation when around Eddie’s family to blame it on him for teaching him that.

Buck is pulled from his musings when one of the guys shouts – shrieks– from one of the trenches ahead. From what they can gather, he is fussing over his weapons in a way no person should, if he wants to be rescued.

“Eddie,” Buck mutters in a mildly warning tone, noting the other man gritting his teeth again, so much so that it makes Buck’s teeth hurt in turn.

“Gott strafe England!” another voice rings out from the same trench, but further down the left, in a very bad German accent that you can tell even if you don’t know any German.

“Somehow I have a feeling God doesn’t want to have to do with any of that, dude,” Buck snorts, amused.

“They’re seriously still playing at it and incorporates us as the Brits?” Eddie gapes.

Buck grimaces. “Well, I guess it’s a big no-no with the history enthusiasts to break character.”

Eddie shakes his head. “There’s other things that are broken.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong there,” Buck sighs. “So. Which one do you want?”

“None?” Eddie huffs.

Buck rolls his eyes. He exhales deeply, then turns to face Eddie. “Rock, paper, scissors? Loser takes on the guy who wants to punish us for being British?”

Eddie makes a noise deep in his throat, but then holds up his fist to play. Buck grins. For some reason, Eddie always picks scissors as a last resort, be it one out of three or one on one. So it could be an easy win, but Buck is feeling generous tonight, which is why he goes with paper. And Eddie does not disappoint by picking scissors.

Of course.

“You got me there, Eds,” Buck laughs, adjusting his gear. “Maybe try to work into conversation that you represent both Mexico and Sweden, see if that throws him off.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I just hope the guy didn’t burn his clothes,” Buck continues, furrowing his eyebrows. “That really would be punishment enough.”

“Move with caution. The guy might well be confused and hurt. Let me know if you are in immediate danger,” Eddie tells him with a tight grimace.

“Copy that,” Buck agrees, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. “Just don’t murder your brave little soldier over there.”

“I make no guarantees. Because we will have to haul those pendejosall the way back as it’s not safe for helicopters to land here after their little show.”

“Eddie, consider all the paperwork I’d have to do if you murdered someone. You can’t do that to me. While I would totally drive the van for when you rob a bank, I think I must draw the line at murder,” Buck tells him.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “Why would I rob a bank?”

Buck shrugs. “Things happen. People need to bail someone out. Or buy a yacht. Economy is a myth. Money is a false god…”

His partner shakes his head, amused. “Let’s just get going.”

“Copy that.” Buck makes a mock salute that earns him a lethal glare from Eddie.

“Be safe, partner,” Eddie says softly.

“You, too, partner. Don’t let the Germans get ya.”

After that, Buck jogs off to the left, not at all looking forward to what he fears will be a guy who’d look into the front end of a cannon just to check if all is good, with the fuse burning like in the comics. At the very least, he has hopes that Eddie won’t be as homicidal with the other guy.

Buck just can’t wait to get out of this place, and make sure not to watch any documentaries on world wars for the next couple of weeks. Maybe months. As he walks off, Buck ponders whether he should come up with some excuse to stay over at Eddie’s, to keep true to his promise and make sure he is alright after tonight’s job.

After all, they have each other’s backs, on the job and outside it. And Eddie is always an easier patient when he feels like he is helping instead of letting others help him. So it probably won’t take Buck much to get Eddie to let him stay over. And then they can just have a beer and talk and curse away and all will be good in the morning.

“Gott strafe England! Gott strafe England!“

“We heard you the first time, damn it!”

…

Eddie continues down the side of the trench to spot the victims. Like that, they don’t have to haul themselves through the mud like those idiots, pardon, history enthusiasts.

“Alright, found ya!” Eddie calls out. “Sir? I am Firefighter Diaz. We’re here to help.”

“I still can’t believe the others took the Minenwerfer! Clearly, that belonged to ourgroup!” the man keeps on ranting, pacing up and down the length of the trench. “What would the British do with the Minenwerfer?!”

It takes Eddie about all of his self-control not to roll his eyes and just walk away again.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he mutters under his breath instead.

“It is part of history. And the weaponry, for its time, was an outstanding…,” the man wants to lecture him, but Eddie beats him to it, “How about we leave the history lessons for until we’re out of the danger zone, yes? I need to check you over. And then we should get you out of here before the British invasion actually happens.”

Or the Mexican. Or the Swedish. Whichever comes first.

One swift jump down and Eddie is eye-to-eye with the guy, who still seems much more preoccupied with his arsenal than his own apparent rescue from burning trenches and buildings, remember.

“Okay, how about you stand still for a moment so I can see where you’re hurt?” Eddie asks. The man studies him for a longer moment, then thankfully thinks better of it than to disobey.

“As you seem to know a lot about the weapons, do you know if there is still more that need taking care of,” Eddie asks, checking the pulse.

“Naturally. I was the one who brought them, even though people decided it was fair to just go ahead without us and switch things up. Because that is not at all historically accurate – and they should know better than that!”

“Yeah, very unfair of them surely, Sir. Coz war’s always fair,” Eddie mumbles, counting silently to five before starting to move again. He goes through the motions to check the man over, finding little to no injuries. Safe for some burns from where he’d seemingly held on to some small explosive for too long, some cuts and bruises, and some sprains, the dude seems fine.

Physically, at least. Let’s not make any assumptions about the mental state.

“Okay, seems like you just got bummed up a bit,” Eddie concludes. “So I think it’s time we get your friend and then head back to the others.”

“Oh, I’m dying to have a word with them!”

“Careful what you wish for,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He climbs back out and leans down to give the man a hand. Hauling him up, Eddie can’t deny the bit of satisfaction at hearing the man shriek like a small kid that just saw a spider.

“It’s going to be okay, Sir. Just breathe through it. It’s all part of the experience,” Eddie says as he helps the man stand.

“Dave and the others will pay for this. I went through so much effort to get my hands on all the props here, to make it authentic. And then they just break character and leave to try out the Minenwerfer! Without me!”

“What else did you get?” Eddie asks, his muscles tightening. Last he heard from the rest of the history enthusiasts, they just had that stupid mine launcher from some even stupider fan shop or whatever, plus some historically authenticflamethrowers of the period.

Because that was going to go over well.

“A Vickers.303 inch Class C medium machine gun. Absolute beauty. And in immaculate condition. I polished it myself. Though I couldn’t get the right projectiles for it, so it was really just to set the stage. But it looked fantastic. A bunch of Lewis.303 inch machine guns. 3-inch Stokesmortar, which was really tough to get. Some BergmannMG 15 andMG 15 NA. Mauser Karabiner98A… some trench clubs for the raids that we also wanted to reenact. And a bunch of M1917 Stielhandgranaten.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Gesundheit.”

“The rifles all had just fake ammunition. We just wanted the atmosphere to be more intense with the actual mortars and grenades and such,” the man laments.

“Yeah, very authentic, that. In the war zone, you always only pick the weapons you want to blow up for the aesthetic.”

Eddie knows he should just hold his tongue and get going, but this whole situation just rubs him in the wrong way. Or all the wrong ways, to be precise. He’d much rather call it a day, read his son a bedtime story, and then have a couple of beer with Buck. And if he gets really lucky, Buck would stay over and make some decent breakfast. There are so many things he’d rather do than listen to any of this crap. But it’s what they signed up for.

“It is part of our history…,” the man argues, but Eddie waves him off. “Yeah right, I think it’s time we check in with my partner and your friend before heading back. You will need some many band-aids for the historical experience. Though I’m not sure they had band-aids, or proper pain meds…”

Eddie is just about to call out to Buck when he hears a shout and then there is just a loud bang and heat nearly knocking them both off their feet.

“Buck!” he screams, struggling for balance as he watches sparks and smoke go up in the night sky from the trench. In the direction to where Buck was headed.

“BUCK!”

Eddie is running, his heart hammering in his chest, nearly taking off his rib cage.

Nonononono.

“EDDIE!”

Relief washes over him in waves of heat and sparks of fire flitting across the sky like fireflies. Buck is alive. He can hear him. He is alive. He didn’t just go up in flames.

He is alive. Alive. Alive. Alive...

Though the relief is soon replaced with the sickening realization that there is nothing but desperation in his partner’s voice.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

“What’s going on?” Eddie shouts.

“I’m on top of a bunch of stick grenades that have not exploded – yet!” Buck shrieks back at the top of his lungs.

Eddie’s eyes open wide as he stops dead in his tracks.

“Confused civilian still in the danger zone! We need the EOD here! Now!” Buck continues.

Eddie’s mind goes blank as he grabs his radio to report back to Bobby to explain it all. Because just like that, this is no longer pretending at war.

He is right back in it.