Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Buck swallowed down a lump in his throat as he gathered his things up to leave.

The 118’s A shift had been scheduled for a 24-hour shift.

Except for Buck.

Buck was only scheduled for 12.

Usually when this happened, it was at the firefighter’s request, but that was not the case.

They wanted Buck to leave.

And it was ‘they’ because Buck was sure that Bobby had taken everyone else’s input first.

Buck’s presence here made everyone uncomfortable, and he knew it.

That’s why he hadn’t pitched a fit when told about today’s schedule, when he probably would have fought to stay the whole shift only 8 months ago.

But that was before the ladder truck.

Before the lawsuit.

The 118 felt betrayed, and Buck couldn’t even blame them.

He hadn’t known that the lawsuit was going to drag them into it.

It was just supposed to be against the city.

He’d asked his lawyer not to do anything to hurt the 118, but the guy hadn’t listened.

And now, in trying to get back to his family, Buck had lost them forever.

Buck slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and closed his locker with a bit more force than necessary.

He’d lost them.

He’d lost all of them.

Even Hen, who had been the only person to welcome him back. Her support had only lasted the first 4 days, when Buck had noticed that the rest of the 118 was starting to send her looks too.

He couldn’t do that to her.

It had taken her a long time to get to a place where people accepted and loved her in this profession, and Buck couldn’t take that away. So he’d taken himself out of the equation and said some truly awful things to her to get her to pull away from him.

And he’d beaten himself up for it every day since.

Buck took a deep breath, then stepped out into the truck bay.

The faint sounds of conversation coming from the loft immediately cut out, leaving no doubt in Buck’s mind what the subject of the conversation had been.

He looked up briefly, only to look away when he locked eyes with Eddie Diaz.

Eddie had been, and still was, one of the most important people to Buck.

But Buck knew that he’d irreparably screwed up anything that could have come from Eddie’s end.

Buck hitched the strap of his duffle bag a little higher and walked out of the station, feeling more than one set of eyes boring into his retreating back.

He was sure they’d celebrate once he was gone.

They’d probably breathed a collective sigh of relief the moment he’d stepped outside.

Buck stubbornly ignored the ache in his chest as he climbed behind the wheel of his Jeep.

He tossed his duffle bag into the passenger seat with a heavy heart.

That bag was probably going to be the only passenger he ever had again.

He tilted his head back against the head rest and let out a shuttering breath.

Not only had the team cut him off, but their families had too.

The only time he’d spoken to Athena in the past 2 weeks, was when she’d pulled him over for speeding. He’d gotten a bit too lost in his thoughts and ended up going 50 in a 35. She’d been short with him, and he hadn’t been able to meet her eyes.

Karen had called him the day after he’d pushed Hen away and informed him that he was no longer welcome in her home. Not that he could blame her. He’d said the things he’d known would hurt Hen the most, and some of them had, unfortunately, been akin to slurs. Buck wouldn’t want him around either.

Eddie wouldn’t let him see Christopher. Buck had only asked once, and Eddie had exploded at him immediately, so Buck hadn’t asked again. He had gone and watched Christopher play at the park a couple of times, which would have been creepy in any other circumstance. Hell, it probably still was.

Maddie had felt pulled in too many directions and hadn’t been able to handle being between Buck and Chimney for more than a day before she was apologetically calling Buck to let him know that she had to side with her boyfriend. That one had hurt. Buck was family. He was her little brother. And Chim was the second partner she’d chosen over him.

Sure, Doug had been an abusive asshole, but he hadn’t started out that way, and Maddie had chosen him over Buck long before things had gotten there.

Buck let out a shaky breath, then put the Jeep in reverse, and pulled away from the fire station.

His original intention had been to go home, but his hands clenched involuntarily on the steering wheel at the thought of his empty apartment.

Before the lawsuit and the ladder truck, when everything had been normal, Buck had spent more time at Eddie’s place than he had at his own.

He’d gotten so used to the warm atmosphere and the presence of other people around, that his apartment felt cold and vacant to him now.

Where else could he go?

He’d burnt so many bridges, both during the lawsuit and after it, that he was alone in the world.

He had no friends.

No family.

He barely even had coworkers, and they’d certainly not welcome him back to hang out at the firehouse with them.

It was times like this when Buck nearly relapsed.

It would be so easy for him go back to Buck 1.0’s coping mechanisms.

Or pre-Buck 1.0’s, even.

Neither of them had been particularly healthy, but at least Buck 1.0 hadn’t attempted suicide.

Pre-Buck 1.0 had. Twice.

Not that anyone in LA knew about that.

Philip and Margaret Buckley had paid off someone, whether it be doctors or administrators, somewhere to keep both instances out of his records, and Maddie had already been gone with Doug before Buck had tried the first time.

If they had known, would it have made a difference?

No.

Buck had still done what he had, and it didn’t matter if anyone knew about his past struggles. They knew enough, and that hadn’t mattered.

But, as much as Buck might think about it, as much as he might plan it out even, he wasn’t going to do it.

He’d promised himself after last time, while his 17-year-old self was writhing in pain alone in the hospital, that he’d never try to do it again.

And, while Buck 1.0’s methods had their perks, Buck couldn’t do that either.

He was past that.

He’d grown since then.

He felt disappointed in Buck 1.0 when he looked back. Felt angry that Buck 1.0 hadn’t tried to be better earlier than he had.

He’d almost lost his family before he really had it because of Buck 1.0.

Not that Buck 2.0 had done any better in that department.

In a way, Buck 2.0 had actually done worse. He’d gotten his family, he’d gotten to love them and value them and he’d proven to himself that he was capable of having one.

He’d gotten used to having one.

And then he drove them away.

He was spiraling, he was drowning, and his family had all of the life jackets, but Buck couldn’t swim to where they were.

6 blocks away from his apartment, Buck took a turn and sped off towards one of Buck 1.0’s old haunts.

He wasn’t going to do what Buck 1.0 had. He wasn’t.

But he didn’t have any liquor at his place anymore.

He hadn’t been able to drink with some of his meds, so he and Eddie had spent half an hour one afternoon dumping it all down his kitchen sink.

But he was off those meds now.

Had been for a while.

Buck hated himself just a little when he swung his Jeep into the parking lot of a bar.

Sure, he could say now that he wasn’t going back to Buck 1.0, but, once he got drunk, would he stick to that?

Was he tempting himself too much?

And what if things went the other way?

What if he got drunk and didn’t have all of the reservations he’d built up back when Evan had started turning into Buck 1.0?

Buck shook his head.

He shouldn’t go in.

It wasn’t too late.

He could just turn his Jeep back on and pull away, and no one would even know to judge him for it.

But the thought of his apartment pushed Buck to open the door and step out onto the pavement.

Just a couple drinks, he told himself.

Just enough to numb the feelings swirling in his chest, then he’d go home.

If he started feeling drunk, he’d leave immediately, and call an Uber from outside the bar.

With that in mind, Buck went in.

The scent of cigarette smoke and stale booze hit him the moment he walked in the door, but Buck had been in enough places like this, and worse, that he was unaffected by it.

He didn’t even hesitate before walking over and taking a seat at the bar.

He waved down the bartender.

She was pretty. Dark hair, long lashes, and crystal blue eyes. The kind of woman Buck 1.0 probably would have tried talking into accompanying him back to his place after her shift.

“What can I get you?” She asked with a smile.

It wasn’t a tired smile, so she probably hadn’t been on shift very long yet, but Buck 1.0 would have waited around for hours for her.

“Just a whiskey.” Buck said quietly.

In recent years, when Buck had drank, he didn’t normally go for anything stronger than beer, but, back in his 1.0 days, whiskey was almost a staple to his diet.

Buck tensed slightly when the bartender placed the glass in front of him, her hand lingering longer than was strictly necessary.

Buck sent her a weak smile that was almost the opposite of the charming smirk he’d have offered her 4 years ago, and carefully took the glass without touching her long fingers.

Her smile didn’t dim any at the obvious rebuff, but the night was young. Not even really a night yet. She had time to reel in another good-looking guy before close.

Buck slid a bill across the counter without even paying attention to what it was, and hunched his shoulders down a bit, hoping that would discourage any other would-be flirters.

He hadn’t even gotten halfway through his glass before a woman with wild red hair and pouty lips slid onto the barstool next to him. “Hello, handsome.”

Buck sent her an awkward smile and took another sip of his whiskey.

“You look a little lonely.” Red Hair said in a sultry voice, placing a hand on his bicep.

Oh, he was.

But it wasn’t her company he was missing.

Buck shrugged enough to dislodge the hand, then said in a soft voice. “I’m not looking for company.”

Red Hair’s hand returned to his arm. “You don’t have to be looking for it to find it, honey.”

Buck sighed and shook his head. “You know what? I’m good.”

Red Hair rolled her eyes. “It’s too early in the day to chase someone playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing.”

With an annoyed huff, Red Hair walked away from him and started buttering up some other sap down the bar, though, from what Buck could see, he wasn’t too into it either.

Not many would be at this time of day.

Buck gulped down the rest of his whiskey and contemplated the empty glass.

A couple drinks, he’d said.

Just a couple drinks.

But whiskey was a pretty strong starter for someone who’d been on meds for most of the last 6 months and unable to drink.

“Hey.” A muscular guy with black hair said casually as he sat down next to Buck. “Buy you a drink?”

Buck frowned at the empty whiskey glass in his hand.

This was getting ridiculous.

“No thanks.” Buck said, before pushing his empty glass back across the bar.

The bartender refilled it without prompting, and slid it back towards him before returning to her conversation with a curly-haired man down the bar that slightly resembled an older Christopher Diaz.

Mr. Muscles next to Buck intercepted the glass.

“Come on, man, you can’t seriously want to keep drinking this stuff.”

Buck plucked his glass out of the man’s hand. “I can and I do. But I’d rather do it alone, if you don’t mind.”

“I do, actually.” The guy scooted his barstool closer to Buck’s and placed a hand on Buck’s thigh. “A good-looking guy like you? You should never be drinking alone.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Anyway, I was kind of busy here, so, take your hand off me and try it with someone else.”

“What’s your problem, dude?”  Mr. Muscles asked.

Buck shrugged. “No problem here. Just not in the mood for whatever you’re trying to get.”

The guy pulled away a bit with a frown. “Look, you’re hot, I’m hot. 1+1=2. Come on.”

Buck gulped down half his glass before turning to face the guy. “I already told you I—”

Buck’s sentence cut off suddenly at the fuzzy feeling that had started blooming right behind his eyes.

Shit.

He’d only had a glass and a half of whiskey, and he knew his limits.

There was something more than whiskey in his glass.

Buck abruptly stood up, nearly knocking Mr. Muscles off of his barstool.

“Bathroom.” Buck muttered, before legging it across the bar and into the hallway that led to the bathrooms.

Once in the hallway, Buck’s legs turned to jelly, and he had to cling to the wall to avoid crashing to the floor.

Oh, there was definitely something more than whiskey in that glass.

Using the wall for support, Buck shuffled down the hallway, the fuzzy feeling behind his eyes growing until his whole brain felt like it was wrapped in a fog.

His vision had just started growing blurry when the sign on the men’s room door loomed in front of him.

Buck hurriedly pushed through it, and pushed the door shut behind him.

He’d had to feel around a bit to find the lock, but, as soon as he did, he turned it.

Only once the door was locked did Buck allow his shaking legs to give out and deposit him on the cold tiles.

He knew what he needed to do.

He had to call someone.

Mr. Muscles was probably the one who made Buck an impromptu cocktail, and the guy could force his way into the room any second.

If that happened, Buck could guess what else he was going to force his way into.

With shaking hands, Buck fished his phone out of his jeans pocket and blearily stared at his phone as he dialed the number that he recognized better than any other.

A ring.

2 rings.

And suddenly the line picked up.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Buck breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

“I’m at a bar. I… I think I’ve been drugged.” Buck said, mouth feeling numb enough that he was sure his speech had slurred a bit.

He’d half expected some judgy questions like ‘How many drinks have you had?’ or ‘Are you sure you’re not just drunk?’. But that’s not what happened.

“What bar are you at, Sir?”

“Uh… Korner Crowne. Not… not sure about the ‘ddress…”

“Okay. Is there anyone with you?”

Buck shook his head, tears springing to his eyes. “No… no ‘m ‘lone. Hiding in ‘he bathroom…”

“Did anyone go to the bar with you?”

“No… was jus’ on my way h’me… fr’m work…”

 “Ok, I’m going to need you to stay calm for me, Sir. Can you do that?”

Buck curled into a ball on the floor.

“Scared…”

“I know, Sir. Help is on the way.”

It was then that Buck heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey, buddy, you alright in there?”

Buck froze.

It was Mr. Muscles.

“He’s… he’s at ‘he door…”

“It’s okay, Sir. It’s going to be okay, I need you to just stay on the line with me, okay?”

Buck nodded groggily even though the 9-1-1 operator couldn’t see it.

“I’m alerting the first responders that the man who drugged you is outside the door. Is there anything in there you could use to defend yourself until they arrive?”

Buck shook his head. “’M not sure… can’ move… can’ see…”

“Okay. It’s okay. They’re almost there. Can you stay with me just a little longer, Sir?”

“Try…”

“Good. Just a little longer, okay?”

Buck curled tighter into himself as Mr. Muscles started banging on the door. “Hey! Come on man, just open the door!”

“Sir, whatever you do, do not open that door until I tell you it’s safe, okay?”

“’kay…”

“Just keep talking, Okay? My name’s Linda . What’s yours?”

“B—”

Buck cut off with a terrified whimper when Mr. Muscles slammed into the door, obviously trying to break it open.

“He’s… ‘rying… to… ‘open…”

“I know, Sir. Just try to stay calm okay? I know that’s the last thing you want me to tell you, but I need you to try, okay? The first responders are outside, now. They’re coming to get you.”

Tears streamed down Buck’s face.

What if they didn’t get in here in time?

What if he got in before they did?

There were muffled voices in the hallway now, and Buck could hear Mr. Muscles trying to play it casual.

“Yeah, my friend just had too much to drink. Happens all the time.”

A pause, in which Buck could hear a voice, but not what it was saying.

“What?” Mr. Muscles asked in surprise, and a little fear. “No! I don’t know why he would’ve called 9-1-1.”

There was a bit of a scuffle in the hallway, which Mr. Muscles must’ve lost, because Buck could faintly hear his protesting voice becoming distant after a few moments.

Then, there were heavy footsteps getting closer to the door, followed by a soft knock.

“Sir?” A male voice that didn’t belong to Mr. Muscles asked.

Buck made a strangled noise in his throat. “’ddie?”

“Do you know the firefighter, Sir?”

“Friends…”

Buck didn’t mention that they weren’t friends anymore.

That didn’t matter.

Eddie couldn’t hate him so much that he’d let that son of a bitch do anything to him.

Buck heard a radio crackle to life in the hallway. “Captain Nash, the caller says that he recognizes firefighter Diaz’s voice, over.”

“Can you put the caller through? We can’t hear him from out here.”

Bobby. That was Bobby.

Buck let a strangled sob pass his lips, and would have flung the door open if he’d had the strength.

“Sir? Sir I’m putting you through to the first responders. Is that alright?”

Buck sniffled and nodded, then, realizing that his 9-1-1 operator couldn’t see him, breathed out a faint “Yeah…”

A pause, then, “This is Captain Nash with the 118, are you alright in there?”

Buck sobbed again. “Bobby… ‘obby… I screwed up…”

Buck could hear several sharp intakes of breath from the hallway. “Buck? Is that you in there?”

Buck sobbed again, shoulders quaking as he laid curled up on the floor.

Then, he heard a curse from the hallway.

“Get this door open!” Bobby ordered someone.

Several thuds that Buck realized were probably kicks shook the door on its hinges, and Buck curled up tighter still.

“’m sor’y Bobby… ‘m sor’y…”

“It’s okay, kid. Everything’s going to be alright.” Bobby said gently through the phone.

“Jeeze, this door’s sturdy.” Chim’s voice echoed from outside.

“Good thing too.” Hen’s voice replied. “Did you see the way that guy was hitting it? Any less sturdy and he’d have had Buck before we even got here.”

An extra loud thud followed Hen’s comment, and Buck didn’t need to see to know who was on the other side.

“’ddie…” He breathed.

“I’m here, Buck.” Eddie called through the door, sounding a bit out of breath. “Just hang in there.”

“’ddie… I screwed up…”

“Hey, no no no, Buck, this isn’t on you, okay?” Eddie replied, the thuds pausing just long enough for him to say it before coming back with more force.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door crashed open, revealing 4 worried firefighters standing in the doorway.

“Buck.” Eddie choked, while Hen put a shaking hand over her mouth and Chim and Bobby stared in shock.

Buck stared at them, vision too blurry to make out their faces, then reached out a shaking hand towards them with waning strength.

All 4 immediately moved in, Hen taking the outstretched hand in hers, and squeezing it to the point that it was almost painful, but Buck didn’t care as he sobbed in relief on the dirty bathroom tiles.

His family was here.

They’d saved him.

It didn’t matter that they hated him, or that they weren’t really his family anymore.

They’d saved him from what was certainly going to be a fate that he wouldn’t have come back from.

He could hear them asking if he was hurt, if that guy had managed to do anything to him before he’d locked himself in here, if he was alright.

But Buck couldn’t answer.

“’M sor’y…” Buck choked. “’M sor’y…”

The 4 of them were clambering over each other to try and reassure Buck that he had nothing to be sorry for, but Buck couldn’t understand a word of it. “’M sor’y…”

He squeezed Hen’s hand back weakly, and something about it must have upset her, because seconds later a tear had landed on his hand.

“’M so’ry…” He said again, shaking from the force of his sobs.

There were hands on him now, running over his sides and his limbs looking for injuries that he wasn’t able to tell them about.

The hand that Eddie had ran through his hair came away bloody, and Buck was more shocked than anyone else.

He must have hit his head when he fell.

He didn’t feel it, but that could have been because of whatever drugs Mr. Muscles had slipped in his drink.

At the thought of Mr. Muscles, Buck’s body started shaking even harder than before.

“It’s alright.” Eddie’s gentle voice broke through Buck’s spiraling thoughts. “You’re alright.”

Buck blindly reached out in the direction he’d heard Eddie’s voice come from, and a calloused hand met him halfway.

Eddie slowly raised Buck’s hand up and placed it on his chest.

“Breathe, Buck.” Eddie said softly. “Breathe. In… out. Come on, with me. In… out.”

Buck shakily matched his breathing with Eddie’s.

“That’s it.” Eddie praised. “In… out. You’re alright. You’re safe now.”

Buck clenched his hand around Eddie’s as hard as he could, and breathed just a little easier when Eddie returned the pressure.

“Stay…” Buck begged in a whisper, looking to where he could vaguely see an Eddie-shaped outline.

Eddie leaned in closer, enough to where Buck could clearly see his face for the first time since he’d left the firehouse earlier that day.

“Always.”