Public Enemy #1

"You haven't called. You don't even know your feelings to me!"

That perfect and controlled voice with barely any real emotion out is back. Buck hates how perfect Tommy in this. It's like try and bite the wood trying to get hiss real feelings.

And it's so irritating than all he ever could do, it's push all his feelings out.

Impulsive.

Just like Tommy called him. That Buck never hid.

"'Cause I'm fucking scared to know!"

Tommy's shock get back to stop for a moment. Take a breath. In and out. In and out.

Don't rush and say wrong things. Not this time.

"Scared of what? Of me?" Tommy gets a step back and that's the last thing Buck wishes he was doing.

His mind puts the movie of all the times Tommy got steps back from him on the kitchen. Always on the fucking kitchen. Can't he break Buck's heart in new room? Bedroom? Living room?

Some change would be good. New experiences and excitement and all that jazz.

Another slow breathing in and out. Find the needle in your mind to knot the needle of the words in perfect picture that gets the meaning he wants out, not the one that can be implied when he's not so careful.

His words are slow, even, but his eyes are blurry from the tears that can't be stopped, when his brain finally catches why his heart was crying for more than a year.

"Of you … leaving again … and again. 'Cause it's all you ever do. Tommy. At least all you ever showed me."

Getting it out takes the weight from his chest and for the first time in a year he takes breath so deep and easy he's surprised with the amount of oxygen caressing his lungs with the soft like fresh petals fingers.

It gets other words to rush like waterfall.

"Tommy," not a name. A prayer, "I watched you leave 3 times. You leave and leave and leave again and … I-I can't start anything with anyone, especially not you, when I will all the time expect them to leave. Any second. Any second c-can be the moment I'll stay alone. And I can't do it."

"I can't not leave."

The truth that cuts. But it's ok. He got enough of the experiences with lick away his wounds. He'll survive.

"See. So w-what's the point of trying again if all it'd bring is more pain for both of us? More disappointment?"

He turns away, finding the balance on his counter. The only thing that reminds him there's a ground under him to fall to. His body is not flowing full of helium.

"I can feel, uh, so much to you and about you, b-but I also deserve not to wish to be scared and anxious all the time. I have enough of it."

The floor creaks under the step. The warm palm between his shoulder blades is like the sun touch on the hot day.

"What do you feel to me?"

Soft hands turns his body just like his hands did with the dough that morning. Chest to chest the only place for him to look at it's Tommy's eyes.

"Tommy —"

"Please, indulge me," the big palm on his cheek do not let him turn away.

"I feel joy and happiness when you're around. When we talk I f-feel like I can say anything and you will let me and get me. I feel warm and … loved when you're around. I feel like I finally get why people choose to stay with someone forev—"

Familiar lips stop his words like two years ago.

Chimney gritted his teeth, somewhat annoyed with himself at the stalling, and pushed the door open. The air was warm, a little humid. The sun was most of the way down, and the skies were cloudy. It wasn’t supposed to rain, but Chimney eyed the sky a little nervously anyway.

Paulsen, one of the grumpiest people Chim had ever met, was leaning against the wall next to the door. He’d been A shift for a while, before transferring to B shift just before the pandemic started, and had never once had a morning where he smiled before ten, no matter what time he’d woken up. He raised an eyebrow at Chimney, then nodded towards the side.

Chimney glanced and saw the figure, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, arms around his knees that were pulled to his chest.

It was truly amazing how small all 6’2 and muscle of Evan Buckley could seem, especially when he was trying to hide. Chimney could admit he wasn’t the tallest guy, but right now, he felt bigger than Buck.

He nodded at Paulsen, hoping he didn’t see as out of his depth as he truly felt. “Thanks.”

Paulsen’s eyebrow stayed up, but he shrugged and went through the door Chim was still holding open. Chimney let the door close behind him and looked at the sky for a second.

Bobby, I’m gonna try to not fuck this up.

He looked down and walked around the corner.

Buck didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him at all. Chimney leaned forward, just to get a look at Buck’s eyes. They were unfocused and glassy. It wasn’t surprising; Buck hadn’t said anything to any of them, but it was becoming increasingly clear that he was really struggling.

Which, of course he was. Chimney still didn’t know most of what had happened, but the bit he did know was incredibly fucked up. He’d thought Buck was doing remarkably well considering, until he and Maddie had realized that he’d been doing a little too well.

Frustratingly, they hadn’t realized it on their own. Tommy had shown up at their house, ostensibly to drop off the container they’d given him to use for leftovers after the dinner. In reality, he’d asked to talk to them for a second.

Apparently, he’d been spending nights at Buck’s house, because Buck had called him in the middle of the night in an utter panic. Tommy didn’t think Buck was sleeping on the nights he couldn’t be there. Buck wouldn’t admit it, and had shrugged Maddie off when she’d asked how he was doing. He’d deflected when Eddie had reached out, apparently well enough that Eddie hadn’t realized what he was doing until several hours later. Which infuriated Eddie, mostly because he’d fallen for it. Chimney had had to recruit Hen to talk him out of going and confronting Buck face-to-face.

He was pretty sure their shared trauma about the situation was just setting the other off, so he’d rather not have that explosive mix at the moment. Or ever, if he could help it.

Chimney carefully sat down next to Buck. He had no desire to spook Buck. He’d done that, the first night Buck had been back home. Eddie had dropped him off at their house, because Buck was very much on concussion watch, and also blood clot watch. Chimney had gone to wake him up for a concussion check in the middle of the night and had scared Buck so bad he’d fallen off the couch and had spent several minutes gasping for breath with broken ribs.

Chimney had made a very concentrated effort to not accidentally scare him since. Maddie had, too. They’d been mostly successful, although other things had set him off.

He crossed his legs and leaned against the wall. He could not tell if Buck knew he was there or not. He was willing to wait, though.

He owed it to Buck.

It took another ten minutes and a slamming car door for Buck to suddenly jerk back, hitting his head on the wall behind him, and hitting it a second time when he spotted Chimney.

“Shit, fuck.”

“Sorry,” Chimney said, lifting his hands up. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you knew I was here.”

“Definitely did not,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his head. It’d been three weeks, so he was very much still dealing with injuries, but his face was mostly healed, aside from the cut across his eyebrow. It was a relief, if Chimney was being honest. He was moving easier with his ribs, too.

He looked fucking exhausted, though. Haunted. Chimney had seen Buck upset, badly injured, he’d seen him outright dead, but even so he’d never seen Buck look the way he did now.

Like he barely knew where he was. Like he was going through the motions but didn’t know why.

“Reynolds called,” he said.

Buck rubbed his face now. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Buck,” Chimney said.

“You don’t,” Buck insisted.

“I’m gonna be really honest with you right now,” Chimney said. “I know you’re not telling me that because you’re fine. Which is scaring the living shit out of me, because I can’t tell if you’re saying it because you don’t want to be a burden, or you just don’t want to be anything.”

Buck flinched.

Yeah. Yeah, Chimney had figured.

Shit. He was so out of his depth.

“I’m not -,” Buck started, but didn’t finish. Probably because it didn’t sound the slightest bit convincing.

Chimney studied Buck. He was slumped, looking away from Chimney. His left hand was clenched in a fist so tight it had to hurt. His right hand was on his ribs, protectively. He was so tense he was trembling.

He looked so fucking scared, and Chimney didn’t even know what of.

“Buck,” he said softly. “Where are you right now?”

Buck grimaced. “I know where I am, Chim.”

“Do you?” Chimney asked. “Because I think a part of you is still there.”

Wherever ‘there’ was. Eddie had told them it was an isolated house. He hadn’t gone inside of it, and the sheriff hadn’t passed on any details, except that the man, who Eddie said was named Earl, had confessed to everything. Buck had said almost nothing to anybody. Tommy had said he’d gotten a few things out of Buck, but still had no idea how bad it really was.

“Fuck off,” Buck muttered.

Well. Anger was at least something, even if it was uncharacteristic.

“I can’t,” Chimney said. “For many reasons, and we both know it.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” Buck said. “Whatever penance you’re trying to pay, go do it somewhere else.”

Chimney breathed. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait, even though that kind of stung.

“No penance,” he said. “We’re family.”

Buck laughed. It was so bitter that it it caught Chimney off guard. “You’re freed from your obligation, then.”

“This isn’t an obligation to me,” Chimney said. Which was true. There might’ve been a time where Chimney would’ve felt like he had to, to repay Bobby, or because Buck was Maddie’s brother, or something. And that time really wasn’t as long as ago as Chimney would’ve liked. But that was absolutely not the reason he was up here.

It wasn’t even necessarily because Buck had talked him off the roof. Even if that made him feel like he couldn’t chicken out of this, it wasn’t what got him up here in the first place.

No. What had gotten him up here was the hours where he had genuinely thought Eddie was going to find Buck too late. The hours where he’d been reminded of being in a hospital waiting room, or hallway, staring through a window at a man who he’d long thought of as a brother, in a coma. Where he’d remembered that long, emotional talk where he’d apologized for punching him. The man who had taken Albert in even though he’d barely known him, just because he was Chimney’s brother. The one who Chimney remembered seeing when he’d opened his eyes one of the first times post-rebar incident.

That was what had him sitting here. Sure, he was Buck’s captain now, and brother-in-law, but this was more than that.

“You don’t have to care just because I’m fucked up,” Buck said.

Oh.

“This isn’t that,” Chimney said.

“Sure,” Buck said, pulling his knees up to his chest again. “That’s why everyone’s been shutting me out. Now everyone wants to check on me.”

Chimney opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned.

Buck apparently didn’t need his input, because he continued.

“You can just skip to the part where everyone gets tired of me and tells me to suck it up. Don’t worry about act 99.”

“What?” Chimney asked, because he genuinely had no idea what the fuck that meant, but he didn’t like it.

Buck didn’t answer, putting his forehead on his knees.

Okay, Chimney needed a new plan, because he was definitely fucking this up, and the longer it went, the more chilling this was.

“I don’t know what that means,” he said slowly. “No one expects you to suck it up.”

Buck shook his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worrying about it, Buck,” Chimney said. “I’m worrying about you. I don’t know what the fuck they did to you, but -.”

“If Eddie had shown up ten seconds later, I'd be dead.”

Chimney's blood ran cold. The matter of fact way Buck said it made it clear he wasn't being metaphorical.

“What do you mean?”

He had a horrible feeling that he didn’t want to actually know, but he needed to. And if Buck was going to talk about it, even if he was doing it to try to run him off, then goddamnit he was going to let him.

“Bonnie and Earl had a son, Derek,” Buck said. His tone was dull now, his head still on his knees. “He was in a motorcycle accident fourteen years ago. I guess it put him into a coma.”

He paused. “You know, it's funny. I don’t think they ever knew my name.”

But Buck would never forget theirs. Chimney fucking hated this.

Before he could come up with anything to say, Buck was continuing.

“I guess I look like what Bonnie hoped Derek would,” he said. “That's why they did this. They had me in his room, it was like a kid's room. Like a time capsule. They dressed me in his fucking pajamas before I woke up.”

Chimney suppressed the urge to flinch.

“She was calling me Derek, and acting like I was him,” Buck said. “I thought she was just delusional at first, but she wasn’t. She was just trying to brainwash me.”

Jesus.

“I played along,” Buck said. “I hate myself for it, but I did. She let her guard down, and I didn't want to hurt her.”

Of course he didn't, because Buck was not a violent person. Even in a situation where it would be self defense, against someone who was literally holding him hostage, he wasn’t violent.

“That's when I found him,” Buck said. “Derek, I mean. He was on life support, in another room. I assume it was him, anyway, it could've been another guy they tried to brainwash.”

Fuck. Of course Buck wasn’t their first victim.

And to do all of this while the kid they were trying to replace was on life support in a different room? Fucking twisted.

“Earl got me, then,” Buck said. “Knocked me out. I woke up in the shed. Tied up.”

Chimney almost wanted to tell Buck to stop. He wasn’t going to tell him, but the monotone way Buck was speaking and what he was saying were horrifying.

“Earl was telling her not to do it, but I was too hurt, or something, I don’t remember exactly,” Buck said. “He left a gun for her and left. I tried to talk to her, but it didn't work. She had the gun cocked and pointed. She was going to shoot.”

But Eddie showed up. Eddie, who was still freaked out over the fact that he found the truck by accident and had almost left without looking.

If Eddie had been just a few seconds slower, if anything had been delayed that day -

Okay, Chimney could never tell Maddie. Because he was going to have nightmares, and she could never, ever know. She already regretted not leaving for New Mexico the minute she’d heard, she couldn’t know how close it’d been.

“I thought they were going to kill Eddie, too,” Buck said. “I tried to make a deal so they wouldn't.”

Chimney wanted to curse. Or scream. Both? Both. He didn’t, because that would not be helpful right now. But he hoped Bonnie and Earl never ever saw the light of day again. Fuck them.

“But Eddie said he found the truck, so she pulled the gun on him,” Buck said. “I heard the gun go off and Earl ran out with the shotgun. I don't really remember getting myself out and grabbing the baton, I don’t remember anything really until Earl was already on the ground.”

Eddie had told them that Buck had saved him from getting shot. He had said it as a good thing, like a way to show that Buck had still been fighting, but Chimney knew better now. The only reason Buck had done that wasn’t to save himself. It was to save Eddie.

He’d already assumed he was dead.

Chimney wondered if he still assumed that.

“Thank you,” he said.

Buck jerked like he’d forgotten Chimney was there and glanced at him. He looked so drained.

Chimney met his eyes, because he needed Buck to hear this. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He doubted that was all of it. Which was horrifying, if he was being honest. Because all of that was pretty bad.

But Buck hadn’t said anything to anyone. Until now.

“That’s not -,” Buck said, his voice hoarse like he was dealing with smoke inhalation. “I didn’t - don’t thank me.”

“You’ve been keeping it quiet,” Chimney said. “Which I get, but Jesus, Buck, that’s all genuinely fucked up. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Buck flinched. Chimney narrowed his eyes.

“You didn’t,” he said. “You don’t. And you don’t have to deal with it alone. That’s why I’m thanking you for telling me.”

“Chim,” Buck said. It looked like the fight had gone out of him. “I don’t even know how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” Chimney said.

“I already didn’t feel like I knew who I was before all of this,” Buck said. “Since Bobby - maybe even before, I don’t fucking know.”

And a woman trying to brainwash him into playing the part of her child couldn’t have helped things. Chimney was understanding more and more.

“Well,” he said. “Did I ever tell you what Bobby told me after the rebar?”

Buck shook his head.

“I’m paraphrasing, but he told me you have to talk about it,” Chimney said, remembering sitting in the locker room, feeling so fucking lost. “You have to let it out and process it. You feel stuck - in that room, in that mindset, in survival mode, but you’re not. You’re not helpless, Buck, you’re right here. You’re here. You’re out, you made it out, and you’re here. And so are all of us. You just need to remember that.”

“How?” Buck asked. “How, Chim, because I can’t fucking sleep in a bed. I tried to get an Uber here and couldn’t get in the car. I feel like they’re always here.”

“You take it one step at a time,” Chimney said. “You can’t sleep in a bed, okay, fine. Couches exist. Futons exist. Fancy ass sleeping bags. Hammocks. Whatever you need. You don’t need Ubers, you can ask one of us, we can work out a schedule if you need for rides. We already are for the doctor’s appointments. And they’re not here. They’re not. They’re in New Mexico, and if you need we can keep reminding you of that. They’re not here. We’ll all learn their faces, so we recognize them, so you know we’re right. But they’re going to jail for a long fucking time.”

Buck was pressing his hand to his mouth. His shoulders were shaking.

“Please,” Chimney said, and his voice was shaking now. “We’re just supposed to live, remember?”

Buck shook his head. Chimney didn’t know if he was listening to anything he was saying. He really hoped he was, but he didn’t know if what he was saying was enough to break through what they’d done to Buck, what he’d been forced to survive.

He set his jaw and scooted a little closer. “Buck. Evan Buckley. Look at me, okay?”

Buck shook his head again, but Chimney reached out and gently turned his head. Buck looked so fucking wrecked. There were no words strong enough for how fucking much Chimney hated this situation. He looked at Chimney, though. He even leaned into the touch.

He needed to say this the right way. He needed Buck to hear him.

“They don’t get to dictate shit about you,” he said. It was a little bit more vicious than he’d wanted it to be, which seemed to startle Buck, but he couldn’t really help it. “You said it yourself, they didn’t even know your name. Or nickname. They didn’t know shit about you. Don’t know shit. Fuck them. You’re alive. You’re here. And goddamnit, they’re not going to be what kills you, do you understand me?”

Buck stared at him. He couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

“You’re allowed to be fucked up by all of this,” Chimney said. “You don’t need anybody’s permission for that. Fuck knows it’d already been a terrible year before they did that to you. And if anyone tells you to suck it up, tell me and I’ll kick their ass, or let Maddie do it. Or Tommy. And it’s gonna take time and we all know it. But they wanted to break you and I will not stand - sit, whatever - here and watch them succeed. They don’t get to fucking take you from us, or yourself, or anybody, like that.”

He was almost panting by the end of it, and honestly he was pretty sure he was fucking this up. He didn’t have Bobby’s patience and wise tone for pep talks, he wasn’t the best with words, his mouth tended to get away from him, he was trying so hard not to guilt Buck. This was a stupid way to go about it, because it wasn’t like Buck was letting them fuck with him. He just - 

Buck snorted.

Chimney jumped. He hadn’t expected that.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Buck was covering his mouth again, shoulders shaking, but this time it wasn’t sobs. It was laughter.

Oh, fuck, he’s lost it. Chimney was going to never be able to face Maddie again. He’d fucked up so bad he was turning Buck into the fucking Joker. He didn’t even know how.

The laughter was clearly painful, but Buck didn’t stop, throwing his head back. He didn’t seem able to control it. Chimney watched as he nearly tipped over, laughing so hard. He reached out to stop Buck from falling.

Finally, Buck lowered his hand, still giggling. “Only you would try to motivate me through spite.”

Chimney stared at him. “That’s what you’re laughing at?”

“Oh, I don’t even fucking know,” Buck said, wiping his eyes. “I think I’m going insane, Chim.”

“I think that’s allowed, honestly,” Chimney said. “I, for one, think you’re doing pretty well for how fucked the entire situation is.”

“That’s awful,” Buck said. He hiccupped, then winced.

“When was the last time you took the painkillers?” Chimney asked.

“I don’t have any idea what time it is right now,” Buck said. “I’m not even sure what day it is.”

That was kind of concerning, but Chimney decided to deal with it later. “Too late for either of us to be on the roof. But it’s the weekend, so you know, could be worse.”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “Hey, Chim?”

“Buck?” Chimney said.

“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Buck said. He tilted his head back, staring at the sky.

“Okay,” Chimney said. “We can figure it out together. I’ll even give you a clipboard.”

“Shut up,” Buck said, but it was said with the ghost of a smile.

“I saw ones that have lights in them recently,” Chimney said. “I told Maddie we should get them for you for your birthday. We can just get them early.”

Buck shook his head. “Please don’t.”

“I’m gonna,” Chim said. “Do you want a hammock? Oh, wait, that’s a bad idea until your ribs heal. Hm.”

“No hammocks,” Buck said. “I want to sleep in bed.”

“We can work on that, then,” Chimney said. “Remember when Nash was fussy, and you were looking up soothing lights? Do you think those would help?”

Buck shrugged.

“Okay,” Chimney said. “Worth a try. Or, hell, you have your own house, just move your bed to the living room.”

Buck snorted. “I’m not doing that.”

“Or we get you a mosquito net and you can just sleep outside,” Chimney said.

“I’m not doing that either,” Buck said.

“Are you sure?” Chimney said. “Because now I think we should do that with Jee. She’d love it.”

“She probably would,” Buck said. He exhaled. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know,” Chimney said. “Just keep going. Spite is a great motivator, you know. Not the healthiest, but nobody’s perfect.”

“I feel like any therapist might be horrified hearing you say that,” Buck said. He straightened his legs, wincing as he did so.

“Therapists wish they had my insight,” Chimney said airily, purely to get another laugh out of Buck. It worked.

“They do not,” Buck said. “Can, uh, can I stay the night at your place?”

Chimney felt the tension in his chest ease, just a bit. “Of course. Jee will want to read you a bedtime story.”

“You mean want me to read her one?” Buck asked.

“No,” Chimney said. “She’s learned the joys of telling bedtime stories. Maddie and I are like ninety percent sure she’s not actually reading, but it hasn’t stopped her enthusiasm. You should expect a dinosaur to show up at some point, though. Doesn’t matter where you start.”

“Okay,” Buck said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chimney said. “I don’t even care what you think you’re apologizing for, the apology is voided and unnecessary. Expect the refund to hit your account in two to three business days.”

“What?” Buck said, looking truly baffled.

“I don’t know, I’m trying not to cry,” Chimney admitted. Relief was making his limbs feel like jelly. “My mouth is doing whatever it wants. It has a mind of its own. Can we get off the roof?”

Buck sighed. It was very dramatic, overly so, and it made Chimney think of Jee, which made him smile.

Chimney pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the way his knee cracked. He held a hand out, pulling Buck to his feet slowly. Buck swayed when he got there, but steadied pretty fast. Thank God. Chimney could carry Buck but fuck did he not want to.

“I wasn’t,” Buck said.

Chimney paused before opening the door. “Wasn’t what?”

“Going to jump,” Buck said.

“Neither was I,” Chimney said. “That didn’t mean I didn’t need talking down.”

Buck studied him. Chimney wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but something in his posture loosened and he nodded towards the door.

The moment their feet hit the ground in the bay of the station, Chimney wanted to melt into a puddle of relief. He didn’t know if Buck was going to let him help, if he’d said anything right, but Buck was on the ground right now, and that was the first step. They just needed to keep him there until he could keep himself there. It was going to be a long process, but Chimney was in it for the long haul, and he knew Maddie and Tommy, at least, were, too.

The patient, Freddie Gundy, is accompanied by his friend. They'd been rock climbing, but the anchor point Gundy had been using had given out and he'd fallen twenty feet. The friend had been the one to call 9-1-1 and apply field dressings to stabilize the pelvis. Probably why their patient is in good a shape as he is.

They'd kicked the friend into the waiting area while they'd done their initial assessment and provided Freddie with pain management, but he's insisted on waiting in the hallway until Freddie was moved for surgery or his next of kin arrived.

When Dr. Park steps in the room it feels like the temperature drops and even the machines quiet down in his presence. Park circles the gurney like a shark circling prey, acknowledging Dr. Robby, ans Dr. Santos, but no one else.

"Patient has a complex, unstable pelvic fracture. X-Ray suggests vertical sheer, and CT confirms there's damage to the vasculature," Dr. Santos reports, handing copies of the tests to Dr. Park.

"No retro-peritoneal hemorrhage, but significant internal bleeding," the Shark remarks, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

"Freddie's pelvis was immobilized in the field, which probably contributed to his relatively stable condition," Dennis feels compelled to point out, but he's wishing he'd swallowed the words even as their passing his lips.

The look Park shoots him makes him wish the floor would swallow him immediately. There's no comment, though. When he speaks, it's to the attendings. "He's going to need DCO."

"I'll book the OR, and let the ICU know we're going to need a bed," Dr. Robby confirms, and Dr. Park leaves without another word.

The words come when Park is out of the room; just outside the door, in fact. Dennis doesn't try to listen, but he's leaving the room and finds Dr. Park standing just outside, looking down at the friend who'd come in with their patient.

"Buckley," Dr. Park says by way of greeting.

"Dr. Park," the friend , Buckley, acknowledges, lips quirking up in the first semblance of a smile Dennis has seen on the man's face since arriving.

"I thought you'd know better than to attempt free soloing," Dr. Park points out, the smile on his face sharp and pointed.

"First off, free climbing," Buckley corrects, smile still friendly, but the words are tight and pointed. Despite the smile, the exhaustion he's feeling is written all over his posture. "We use lines. It was just a fluke accident. It's not like we were going cave diving."

Park snorts, clearly amused, but then his expression sets again, focus and determined. It's a sharp contrast to the softness in his tone when he says, "I'll take good care of Freddie."

Buckley looks up at him, shoulders slumped, but a faint smile crosses over his face. "I know you will."

Reaching out, Park grips Buckley's shoulder with a firm hand. "I'll see you in the waiting room then. You can wait there for Freddie's family."

"Thanks, Brendon."

Dr. Park strides out of the ER, past the doors, with Buckley's eyes remaining fixed on him.

The whole exchange leaves Dennis feeling of kilter. There's a backstory and context he's missing, some piece of Park the Shark lore he doesn't understand. It sticks with him for the rest of the shift.

There's donuts brought into the staff room in the mid-afternoon. Not a cheap dozen from Dunkin's, but several boxes from a local bakery that Dennis has been meaning to try out. There's a smaller box fo vegan and gluten free donuts as well, showing their mysterious benefactor is considerate as well.

Dennis grabs a fruit-filled one that happens to be huckleberry of all things. He polishes it off before anyone else can comment.

"Who brought the donuts?" he asks Dana when he's out of the break room.

Not looking up from her charting, Dana answers him. "Buck, the lead physio from Ortho is friends with our fall victim. He brought them to say thank you for the work we did."

"That was nice of him," Dennis acknowledges, even as the name rings a bell, then goes about finishing his day. He snags another donut before he leaves, cramming the whole thing in his mouth before making his way out the staff entrance. He's still chewing when he spots the friend from earlier, Buckley, sitting on a bench outside.

Before he can think better of it, Dennis approaches. "How'd the surgery go for your friend?"

Buckley seems startled, and he looks up from his phone to meet Dennis' eyes. "Dr. Whitaker. Hi. Freddie's out of surgery and set up in the ICU with his wife. It'll be a few days before they can complete the internal fixation, and a long road to recovery, but his doctors are confident he'll walk again."

"I'm off the clock now," Dennis points out, still feeling strange when people call him doctor. "You can just call me Dennis. And I'm glad to hear your friend is doing okay. Dr. Park may not have the best bedside manner, but he really is one of the best."

Buckley's expression does something complex, but it settles on wildly amused. "He definitely is."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name when Freddie was brought in," Dennis comments, wondering why he feels like he's stuck his foot in his mouth.

"Evan Buckley," the other man replies, holding his hand out to shake. Dennis does, and shakes it maybe a tad too excitedly. "Most people just call me Buck, though."

The pieces start to click into place. "Buck from Ortho. You brought the donuts."

Buck keeps smiles, despite the exhaustion he's obviously feeling. "Guilty. You guys did such a good job with Freddie. I wanted to thank you."

"I guess that explains why you knew to stabilize your friend's hips," Dennis points out, puzzling it out. He realizes this man is incredibly kind and thoughtful, and wonders not for the first time if he's gotten into the wrong specialty.

"That, four years working as an EMT while I was in school, and being married to a surgeon who is also an adrenaline junky," Buck rattles off with a smile, and Dennis is suddenly filled with an impending sense of dread, as all of the little pieces of information he's picked up today finally slot together.

As if summoned, Dr. Park steps out of the hospital, out of scrubs and dressed in more casual clothing. His hair his still slicked back, and with way the harsh overhead lights illuminate the sharp angles of his face, Dr. Park looks positively menacing.

Dennis wants to cower in place. Buck's face lights up at the sight of him, though, and he stands up off the bench, even as he's calling out in greeting. "Brendon!"

Dr. Park doesn't even acknowledge Dennis as he walks up to Buck and slides an arm around Buck's waist. He presses a quick kiss to Buck's cheek and gives him a one armed hug before stepping back to pass an assessing eye over Buck. "Evan. You still hanging in their okay?"

It's like Dennis isn't even there anymore. Buck's full attention is on the Shark, and in return, Dr. Park's laser focus is on Buck, running a critical appraisal on the man while he talks.

"Doing alright," Buck admits, and instead of being uncomfortable under Dr. Park's stare, seems to melt under it, tension Dennis hadn't even noticed Buck had been carrying in his shoulders easing away. "The adrenaline crash happened a few hours ago, so I've been able to digest what happened."

"Do you want to head home to rest, or do you still want me to drive you out to pick up your car?" Seeing Dr. Park offering care and compassion to a living human being is like being in the twilight zone. Nothing really changes about his demeanour, but there's a softness around his eyes that looks entirely out of place for what Dennis knows about the man.

"I managed to catch a nap in the on call room after Freddie's wife showed up," Buck tells Dr Park, pulling back and lacing their fingers together. "I'd rather grab it now then have to leave the house when we both have the day off."

Dennis couldn't tell you how Dr. Park make his smile go both warm and sharp at the same time, but it leaves little to the imagination regarding what he's planning on using the day off for. It's uncomfortable, standing there watching the interaction like a strange sort of voyeur. He shifts his weight, preparing to extricate himself from the situation, but the sound of gravel draws their attention back to him.

Dr. Park looks him up and down, only his eyes moving, and his mouth moves to form a frown. It's both condescending and dismissive. It feels like a slap when Dr. Park asks, "Do I know you?"

Feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth, Dennis can't respond. Buck rescues him. "This is Dr. Whittaker, one of the residents who was helping with Freddie in the ER."

"Hmm," is the only response from Dr. Park, his mouth tightening with a little tick that seems to express so much disdain without saying a word. Then his attention is back to Buck, already starting to walk away. "Ready to go, Evan?"

"I'll catch up in a second," Buck tells him, then turns his focus back to Dennis. "Don't take it personally. Brendon is very task oriented, and doesn't really notice anything else. The focus is what makes him a great surgeon. Also one of the many things I love about him."

And then Buck winks, so there's no question regarding how Buck enjoys that focus.

Dennis feels his whole face flush red, but Buck has already turned to follow after his husband. He's left standing like a gape-mouth fish, watching the couple go, when Trinity approaches.

"You okay there, Huckleberry?" She bullies, jabbing him lightly with her elbow.

"Did you know Park the Shark is married?" He asks, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

"The fuck he is," Trinity scoffs, and walks off into the night.

The patient, Freddie Gundy, is accompanied by his friend. They'd been rock climbing, but the anchor point Gundy had been using had given out and he'd fallen twenty feet. The friend had been the one to call 9-1-1 and apply field dressings to stabilize the pelvis. Probably why their patient is in good a shape as he is.

They'd kicked the friend into the waiting area while they'd done their initial assessment and provided Freddie with pain management, but he's insisted on waiting in the hallway until Freddie was moved for surgery or his next of kin arrived.

When Dr. Park steps in the room it feels like the temperature drops and even the machines quiet down in his presence. Park circles the gurney like a shark circling prey, acknowledging Dr. Robby, ans Dr. Santos, but no one else.

"Patient has a complex, unstable pelvic fracture. X-Ray suggests vertical sheer, and CT confirms there's damage to the vasculature," Dr. Santos reports, handing copies of the tests to Dr. Park.

"No retro-peritoneal hemorrhage, but significant internal bleeding," the Shark remarks, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

"Freddie's pelvis was immobilized in the field, which probably contributed to his relatively stable condition," Dennis feels compelled to point out, but he's wishing he'd swallowed the words even as their passing his lips.

The look Park shoots him makes him wish the floor would swallow him immediately. There's no comment, though. When he speaks, it's to the attendings. "He's going to need DCO."

"I'll book the OR, and let the ICU know we're going to need a bed," Dr. Robby confirms, and Dr. Park leaves without another word.

The words come when Park is out of the room; just outside the door, in fact. Dennis doesn't try to listen, but he's leaving the room and finds Dr. Park standing just outside, looking down at the friend who'd come in with their patient.

"Buckley," Dr. Park says by way of greeting.

"Dr. Park," the friend , Buckley, acknowledges, lips quirking up in the first semblance of a smile Dennis has seen on the man's face since arriving.

"I thought you'd know better than to attempt free soloing," Dr. Park points out, the smile on his face sharp and pointed.

"First off, free climbing," Buckley corrects, smile still friendly, but the words are tight and pointed. Despite the smile, the exhaustion he's feeling is written all over his posture. "We use lines. It was just a fluke accident. It's not like we were going cave diving."

Park snorts, clearly amused, but then his expression sets again, focus and determined. It's a sharp contrast to the softness in his tone when he says, "I'll take good care of Freddie."

Buckley looks up at him, shoulders slumped, but a faint smile crosses over his face. "I know you will."

Reaching out, Park grips Buckley's shoulder with a firm hand. "I'll see you in the waiting room then. You can wait there for Freddie's family."

"Thanks, Brendon."

Dr. Park strides out of the ER, past the doors, with Buckley's eyes remaining fixed on him.

The whole exchange leaves Dennis feeling of kilter. There's a backstory and context he's missing, some piece of Park the Shark lore he doesn't understand. It sticks with him for the rest of the shift.

There's donuts brought into the staff room in the mid-afternoon. Not a cheap dozen from Dunkin's, but several boxes from a local bakery that Dennis has been meaning to try out. There's a smaller box fo vegan and gluten free donuts as well, showing their mysterious benefactor is considerate as well.

Dennis grabs a fruit-filled one that happens to be huckleberry of all things. He polishes it off before anyone else can comment.

"Who brought the donuts?" he asks Dana when he's out of the break room.

Not looking up from her charting, Dana answers him. "Buck, the lead physio from Ortho is friends with our fall victim. He brought them to say thank you for the work we did."

"That was nice of him," Dennis acknowledges, even as the name rings a bell, then goes about finishing his day. He snags another donut before he leaves, cramming the whole thing in his mouth before making his way out the staff entrance. He's still chewing when he spots the friend from earlier, Buckley, sitting on a bench outside.

Before he can think better of it, Dennis approaches. "How'd the surgery go for your friend?"

Buckley seems startled, and he looks up from his phone to meet Dennis' eyes. "Dr. Whitaker. Hi. Freddie's out of surgery and set up in the ICU with his wife. It'll be a few days before they can complete the internal fixation, and a long road to recovery, but his doctors are confident he'll walk again."

"I'm off the clock now," Dennis points out, still feeling strange when people call him doctor. "You can just call me Dennis. And I'm glad to hear your friend is doing okay. Dr. Park may not have the best bedside manner, but he really is one of the best."

Buckley's expression does something complex, but it settles on wildly amused. "He definitely is."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name when Freddie was brought in," Dennis comments, wondering why he feels like he's stuck his foot in his mouth.

"Evan Buckley," the other man replies, holding his hand out to shake. Dennis does, and shakes it maybe a tad too excitedly. "Most people just call me Buck, though."

The pieces start to click into place. "Buck from Ortho. You brought the donuts."

Buck keeps smiles, despite the exhaustion he's obviously feeling. "Guilty. You guys did such a good job with Freddie. I wanted to thank you."

"I guess that explains why you knew to stabilize your friend's hips," Dennis points out, puzzling it out. He realizes this man is incredibly kind and thoughtful, and wonders not for the first time if he's gotten into the wrong specialty.

"That, four years working as an EMT while I was in school, and being married to a surgeon who is also an adrenaline junky," Buck rattles off with a smile, and Dennis is suddenly filled with an impending sense of dread, as all of the little pieces of information he's picked up today finally slot together.

As if summoned, Dr. Park steps out of the hospital, out of scrubs and dressed in more casual clothing. His hair his still slicked back, and with way the harsh overhead lights illuminate the sharp angles of his face, Dr. Park looks positively menacing.

Dennis wants to cower in place. Buck's face lights up at the sight of him, though, and he stands up off the bench, even as he's calling out in greeting. "Brendon!"

Dr. Park doesn't even acknowledge Dennis as he walks up to Buck and slides an arm around Buck's waist. He presses a quick kiss to Buck's cheek and gives him a one armed hug before stepping back to pass an assessing eye over Buck. "Evan. You still hanging in their okay?"

It's like Dennis isn't even there anymore. Buck's full attention is on the Shark, and in return, Dr. Park's laser focus is on Buck, running a critical appraisal on the man while he talks.

"Doing alright," Buck admits, and instead of being uncomfortable under Dr. Park's stare, seems to melt under it, tension Dennis hadn't even noticed Buck had been carrying in his shoulders easing away. "The adrenaline crash happened a few hours ago, so I've been able to digest what happened."

"Do you want to head home to rest, or do you still want me to drive you out to pick up your car?" Seeing Dr. Park offering care and compassion to a living human being is like being in the twilight zone. Nothing really changes about his demeanour, but there's a softness around his eyes that looks entirely out of place for what Dennis knows about the man.

"I managed to catch a nap in the on call room after Freddie's wife showed up," Buck tells Dr Park, pulling back and lacing their fingers together. "I'd rather grab it now then have to leave the house when we both have the day off."

Dennis couldn't tell you how Dr. Park make his smile go both warm and sharp at the same time, but it leaves little to the imagination regarding what he's planning on using the day off for. It's uncomfortable, standing there watching the interaction like a strange sort of voyeur. He shifts his weight, preparing to extricate himself from the situation, but the sound of gravel draws their attention back to him.

Dr. Park looks him up and down, only his eyes moving, and his mouth moves to form a frown. It's both condescending and dismissive. It feels like a slap when Dr. Park asks, "Do I know you?"

Feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth, Dennis can't respond. Buck rescues him. "This is Dr. Whittaker, one of the residents who was helping with Freddie in the ER."

"Hmm," is the only response from Dr. Park, his mouth tightening with a little tick that seems to express so much disdain without saying a word. Then his attention is back to Buck, already starting to walk away. "Ready to go, Evan?"

"I'll catch up in a second," Buck tells him, then turns his focus back to Dennis. "Don't take it personally. Brendon is very task oriented, and doesn't really notice anything else. The focus is what makes him a great surgeon. Also one of the many things I love about him."

And then Buck winks, so there's no question regarding how Buck enjoys that focus.

Dennis feels his whole face flush red, but Buck has already turned to follow after his husband. He's left standing like a gape-mouth fish, watching the couple go, when Trinity approaches.

"You okay there, Huckleberry?" She bullies, jabbing him lightly with her elbow.

"Did you know Park the Shark is married?" He asks, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

"The fuck he is," Trinity scoffs, and walks off into the night.