#usercoredrive

“Hey, guys, wait up!” Buck calls, flagging Hen and Eddie down as they begin to load their victim into the back of the ambulance. He’s got a black cellphone in hand, and he takes the stairs two at a time, spirited by some nonexistent emergency — their victim stable, but in need of an audience with an actual doctor. 

“I got the guy’s phone.” Buck huffs, passing it off to Eddie who holds it up to show their victim the fruit of Buck’s initial panic. 

“It’s your lucky day, buddy.” Eddie jokes, “Why don’t we give your emergency contact a call?” 

“Sure.” Pete croaks, strapped into the gurney. “It’s my brother, he’s listed under ICE.” 

“Very good, Pete.” Eddie praises, only slightly distracted in his search for the vic’s contact list, “In Case of Emergency. You, my friend, have earned yourself a gold star in safety.” 

Hen snorts at that. 

“What?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows quirking together in the briefest display of confusion. 

“A gold star?” She teases, “Who taught you that? Ana?” And then, after a second of thought she adds, “Eddie… is Ana your ICE?”

“I think it’s still Shannon.” Eddie shrugs, handing the phone off to their patient. “Haven’t really thought about it, I guess.” 

Hen can read Eddie better than that, but she doesn’t press the issue further. 

“Why, who’s your ICE?” Eddie asks. 

Hen deadpans, “My wife.” 

“Hey, Buck?” Eddie finds himself asking, when there’s a lapse in emergencies and the 118 find themselves sitting around the loft. “Who’s your ICE?”

“I think it might still be Ali.” Buck frowns, tapping into his phone. He hadn’t really thought about it to be honest… the 118’s just always had his back in his hour of need. 

“Not Taylor?” Chimney supplies. 

“At least it’s not Abby.” Eddie mumbles. 

“Hold on a minute now.” Hen says, throwing her two cents into the mix, “You two can’t make fun of Buck for who his ICE is when Eddie’s is still Shannon; and who’s yours Chim? Tatiana?”

“No way,” Chimney replies, “it’s been Maddie — for years now.

“What about Ana and Taylor?” Hen challenges, “Who are their I.C.E.’s?” 

“Probably her sister.” Eddie shrugs, at the same time Buck comments absentmindedly, “Probably her cameraman.” 

“Her cameraman?” Chimney repeats, wondering if he’d heard right. 

“You two are pathetic.” Hen decides, turning back to her magazine. 

“Maybe you two could have each other as your I.C.E.’s?” Chimney proposes, the cameraman comment remaining wholly undiscussed, “There. Problem solved.” 

“Or,” Hen counters, despite having acted like she was past this conversation, “maybe you two should have a grown up conversation with your respective girlfriends.” 

The whole ordeal weighs on Eddie long after the conversation is said and done. It’s the not definitively knowing who’s depending on him in their hour of need that gets him. 

Of course he’s Christopher’s ICE, that just comes with the territory of being a parent, but he doesn’t know for sure that he isn’t Ana’s. 

…Is that a step either of them is ready to take? 

That night, after dinner, he’s a little reaffirmed to see Ana’s phone light up with a call from her sister, just as she’s moved to take her leave — ICE displayed in a banner at the top. “I’ll talk to you later, Edmundo.” She waves, starting down the drive as she holds her phone to her ear. 

Closing the door behind her, Eddie’s own phone lights up:

ICE.