I was tagged by @trombonechurchill, @inawickedlittletown, and @corporatebanana. Happy to be back in the writing groove again, so here is a little of the Buck Leaves the 118 fic I've been working with. Thank you to @beanarie and this post for inspiring me today.
Turns out there's no tribunal; no formal meeting with the brass where they stare him down across a table and decide his fate.
It's a few forms, submitted to the occupational health and safety side of HR, with the help of a union rep and the doctor supervising his detox.
He self-reported his opioid dependency, didn’t steal or use on the job, and sought treatment right away. In the end, it's a gradual return to work plan, prepared by the occupational health nurse, and signed off on by his doctor.
Light duty to start, not to be left alone with access to the medications on the ambulance, regular drug testing - every two weeks to start - as he reintegrates.
He sits at the table in the LAFD meeting room, feeling like a deflated balloon. He's been so hyped up on adrenaline and cortisol - so stressed that he's never going to recover, or never be able to come back to work. To have it all get sorted so neatly just has him feeling flat.
Just sign the dotted line and we can have you back to your regularly scheduled programming without more than inconvenience than a biweekly needle prick.
His union rep must sense the exhaustion in his bones, because she comes and rests a hand on his shoulder. "You need me to call anyone for you?"
Buck shakes his head, swallows the groan of frustration. The only person he wants go call is someone he hasn't spoken to in almost a year.
"And you're sure you want to go back to the 118?" she asks, assessing.
"I think I've had enough change to last a lifetime," Buck replies, offering her a wry smile.
She smiles back, head tilted to one side. "My aunt always used go say 'a change is as good as a rest.' You ever change your mind you have my card."
Buck holds up up the small rectangle.of card stock that's been paper-clipped to the folder in front of him.
"You know, when I hear someone talking about their workplace being like a family," Maria starts to point out, as she heads for the door. "It doesn't give me the warm fuzzies. It gives me red flags. Place like that is probably toxic AF."
She leaves before Buck's has the chance to wrap his mind around the thought.
No pressure tagging @chemistry66, @emakataken, @thecarrott, @chimneyschewinggum, @paperyowl, @whizzzerbrown, @fuselsstuff, @jamieroyjamieroy, @sad-girl-hours23 and @kinardnatural
Aside from writing fluff, here's what I've been working on. A little more of the "Buck Leaves the 118" fic I've been working on.
“I love my children so, so, so much,” Maddie comments when he stops by with coffee and banana muffins for Jee. “I just never thought I would hit a point in my life when my greatest desire would be to go to the bathroom by myself.”
She’s joking, Buck knows. It’s been different for her, this time around; a little easier post partum with baby Han. Still can’t bring himself to call the kid by his given name, but he doesn’t feel bad because apparently Maddie and Chim can’t either. He hopes the little guy can avoid Buck’s fate; it’s lonely growing up in the shadow of someone you’ll never be able to live up to.
Still, he sees a need, and knows how to help. Being of use – acts of service one of his exes had called it – was how he could show up, and support her. “I can take Jee and the baby, if you need a break.”
“You think you can handle that?” There’s no snide tone to accompany the words, but Buck can’t help but feel defensive at the question, like he hasn’t been around helping with Baby Han, and hasn’t looked after Jee countless times before.
Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself of Dr. Copeland’s words. He’s just projecting his own fears and insecurities onto the conversation. “Sure. I can take the two of them for the afternoon. You can even make it a sleep over if you and Chimney want a night to yourselves.”
There’s doubt and uncertainty written all over her face at the offer, and Buck forces himself to believe it’s because she’s not ready to leave her baby with him overnight, rather than doubt about his ability to look after his niblings.
He holds onto the thought until it’s time to pick the kids up for an afternoon together. The plan is for them to have a nice early dinner, and then bring the back for bed time. “That means 6:30, Buck, and no later. I have to be able to bathe them and get through their bedtime routine.”
Buck doesn’t argue that he could get the kids ready for bed; he’s done it often enough when he’s been over at their place. Instead, he focuses on hooking the car seats into second row seating in his truck. Doesn’t say anything when Chimney doublechecks the install, as though Buck hasn’t just gone through the car seat training again so A shift could have someone do the checks at the station when needed. Just grits his teeth and keeps the peace when he hears Chimney make joke about Buck needing a babysitter of his own.
It’s not even funny, but Maddie laughs, tapping Chimney on the shoulder, and tells him to cut it out. Neither of them notice the way Buck focuses on taking steady breaths, or the way his hands clench and relax at his sides.
Here it is: my addition to the multitude of Buck Crashout fics following the last episode of 9-1-1.
Summary: "Have you heard of the 'Grey Rock Response?'" Dr. Copeland had asked him during one of his solo sessions. When he'd shaken his head, she'd explained a little more. "It's not a long-term solution in a relationship, but it is a tool you can use in specific situations."
Buck feels like his whole life right now might be one of those situations.
On AO3: Don't Paint My Rainbow Grey - 4445 Words - Overall Rating: T
Chapter 1
It starts as a tactic Dr. Copeland gave him, back when he was trying to navigate a new relationship with his parents. After being ignored and told he was too much his whole life, they suddenly wanted to be involved, and it was fine. It was better than nothing. It was nice that they wanted to make an effort. But it didn’t go well. For every reaction he had, and every emotion he showed, his mom would break into tears and act like he was personally attacking her.
"Have you heard of the 'Grey Rock Response?'" Dr. Copeland had asked him during one of his solo sessions. When he'd shaken his head, she'd explained a little more. "It's not a long-term solution in a relationship, but it is a tool you can use in specific situations."
Buck feels like his whole life right now might be one of those situations.
The invite to Athena’s house feels a little out of the blue. Buck has the impression it’s been hard for her to look at him since he’s the one who told her that her husband was dying. He thinks she also sees little pieces of Bobby in him whenever he’s around. Not much, but Buck’s certain the best parts of him are only thanks to Bobby’s influence.
When she calls him to invite him over to see the new place, he thinks it’s because he’s been spending time with her kids, and they’ve encouraged her to extend the invitation. When he shows up, it’s with a bottle of white wine he knows Athena is partial to, a small potted plant, and a book about fire science he thinks Harry might find helpful for his studies.
May isn’t there, and Harry is no where to be seen, so Buck hands Athena the housewarming gifts, avoiding the awkwardness of how she’s supposed to greet him. Things were so much more straight forward when Bobby was around – what he and Athena were to each other was a lot easier to define through that lens.
But tonight isn’t about him.
There’s an expression that passes over her face, like she’s surprised, then annoyed at herself for being surprised. Sometimes it’s obvious she still considers him the rudderless miscreant she first met, arguing over a child and her baby in an ambulance, but even then he’d still been the product of two WASPs from Pennsylvania; it simply wasn’t done to arrive at someone’s house empty handed.
After the first annoyance is processed, another wave passes over her face, this time because the wine is definitely the one she likes, and he remembers her having a jade plant in the house when she and Bobby had moved in together. She thanks him, though, and he thinks she’s actually appreciative.
He looks around the space when she goes to set the wine in the fridge and the plant on the counter. It’s very different than her old place, missing the touches that were obviously Bobby or Michael. It suits her, though, everything very classy. Buck likes it for her, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t think his opinion on her living situation is something she cares to hear.
“What’s in your hands?” Athena asks, and Buck remembers he’s still carrying the book for Harry.
“Oh, this? Harry mentioned he was struggling wrapping his head around some of the science,” Buck explains, lifting the book to show her the cover. “I found this book helpful when I was in the academy. I picked up the latest edition for him. Is he around?”
Again, Athena seems shocked by Buck’s offering, but she reaches out to take the book out of his hands. “Harry’s out tonight, but I’ll put it in his room for him. Why don’t you grab a seat at the table and I’ll be right back.”
Buck looks over to the table, and sees it’s already set with a charcuterie board that Athena has obviously put together with great care. It’s way more food than two people can eat. Add another to the column of this not being a simple housewarming invite.
“Help yourself to the spread,” Athena calls out from the hallway.
Buck continues to stand, awkward and uncertain, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It comes in the form of a knock at the door.
Athena returns from Harry’s room, strides sure and purposeful, and opens the door to reveal Eddie standing on the other side. He’s arrived empty-handed, but from the way Athena welcomes Eddie into the house, it feels like less of a social visit.
“Thanks for coming Eddie,” Athena tells him, gesturing to the table. “Grab a seat, and I can get you guys some wine. The others should be here soon.”
Buck’s mind makes the leaps – from being invited under falls pretences, to Eddie’s arrival, to the other’s showing up soon – to the logical conclusion. Athena’s forcing Hen and Chimney to talk, and for some reason she wants them all there to witness it.
He accepts the glass of wine she offers him with a silent nod, and a small pleased part of him notes that she’s not offering them the bottle of white that he’d brought her, because it’s her favourite.
He sits at the table, picking the chair closest to the window, and starts to eat the food, despite not being hungry. He needs something to do with his hands and mouth so he doesn’t say something stupid.
“What do you think of all this?” Eddie asks, voice pitched low, and Buck can only shrug in response. He’s apparently not even supposed to know what “this” is. Eddie takes the gesture in stride, and sits calmly in his chair, looking every bit like he has the right to be there.
Buck, meanwhile, feels too big in his seat. He needs to make a conscious effort to keep his knee from bouncing up and down, the nervous energy desperate for an outlet.
There’s another knock on the door, saving him from saying something he might regret. Buck holds his breath, expecting Hen or Chimney’s arrival. He’s surprised when Athena opens the door to reveal Alex Doyle of all people. It makes sense that Athena would know Alex; there were probably situations where she would have responded to the same calls. It feels like a gut punch, though, that Athena thought Hen and Chimney, two best friends, would need the support of someone who specialized in deescalation and conflict resolution.
They’re going to need you.
Buck has tried so hard to do what Bobby asked, but this is just another way Buck hasn’t been able to live up to Bobby’s expectations.
He doesn’t realize he’s tuned out Athena talking to Alex, thanking her for taking the time and letting her know how she’s hoping things will go.
He’s saved from his spiralling by Chimney’s arrival with Maddie – they’re introduced to Alex, and they make small talk about how the veteran was doing. Chimney’s agitation starts to grow, and Maddie is hiding, badly, that she knows why they’re really there.
They’re followed closely by Hen and Karen. It’s obvious from the looks on her face that Karen is in on it to. Buck is in awe of the subterfuge it must have taken the three of them to get Hen, Chimney and himself to arrive without any idea of what they were walking into. Buck still hasn’t figured out why he wasn’t told.
His eyes keep drifting to the door, wondering if Athena is pushing for some sort of reconciliation for him to. There’s one more person who could be there; someone who’s known Hen and Chimney since the beginning, that he would be desperate to see…
But tonight isn’t about him.
He pushes down the hope-fear-want, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Watching them from the table, quiet, he takes it all in, and part of him feels vindicated when Chimney calls it like it is. “It’s an intervention.”
The room immediately moves to a cacophony of voices, but Buck stays silent. Things haven’t felt this tense with the team since Gerrard took over as captain what feels like a lifetime ago.
With a commanding voice, Athena brings everyone to silence. Resigned to the mediated talk, everyone arranges themselves around the table. Athena sits at the head, Alex at the other end, seated between Hen and Chimney. Maddie and Karen sit beside their spouses, leaving Eddie and Buck to sit across from one another at the table. Buck is deliberate in sitting on Hen’s side of the table as a show of support.
He understands where Hen is coming from; he’d ignored the pain in his leg while recertifying all of those years ago, rationalizing and making excuses. He hadn’t realized at the time; genuinely hadn’t known any better, but he can admit he would have still done the same things to push to come back. Hen’s not fit to work, but she shouldn’t be sidelined, either.
Like he knows exactly what Buck is thinking, Eddie stares at him like a challenge.
Buck stares at his wine glass, not drinking it. Swirling the wine in the glass, he watches the legs form, but doesn’t take a sip. It’s good wine, but it’s turned sour in his mouth, anxiety building.
Alex starts the mediation with an introduction that sounds empty to Buck, because he’d had no part in asking Alex to intervene. It starts out rough, with Hen immediately on the defensive. Buck can’t blame her, because he feels equally blindsided and he’s not the one in the spotlight.
Hen and Chim immediately start bickering, with Alex trying to keep them on track. It comes out how rudely Chimney had fired Hen, and Buck is affronted on her behalf. Back already up, Buck is shocked when Chimney says to Maddie, “If it had been your brother.”
“Then you would have fired me?” Buck snaps back, struggling to wrap his mind around it. He’d tried to leave once before, and Chimney had demanded they all stay. From the tone and look on Chimney’s face, though, Buck has to take it at face value. His presences on the 118 is so devalued Chimney wouldn’t hesitate to let him go if the mood struck him.
It hurts, but he pushes it down.
Tonight isn’t about him.
But then Eddie chimes in, and it’s uncharitable, but Buck can’t help but think Eddie just needs to hear the sound of his own voice. “We all know this. Chain of command.”
Buck shoots him a glare, blood starting to boil. “Oh, if you say ‘chain of command’ one more time…”
“Or else what?” Eddie taunts.
“Uh, Okay,” Alex cuts in, soft voice surprisingly commanding. “Maybe we should put the focus back where it belongs.”
He’s left to swallow back the bubbling rage, pushing it down to the pit of his stomach where no one can see it. No one can feel it.
Tonight isn’t about him.
For a moment, Buck hopes they’ll get back on track, but Chimney is immediately talking over everyone. Athena has brought a group of very strong personalities into one space, so it shouldn’t be a surprise. Buck sinks back into his chair, not wanting to get drawn into the argument again.
“Losing Bobby broke us all into pieces,” Hen argues, eyes welling, voice raw with emotion. “Both individually, and as a team.”
Buck looks into his lap, because Hen’s words strike so true. Bobby’s loss has been devastating to all of them, and Buck has been trying so desperately to honour Bobby’s memory and keep the team together. It hurts to be reminded, but it’s validating to know Hen’s had the same fears.
“It was so hard, going through this by myself, all alone,” Hen explains, pleading with them to understand.
And Buck does understand, intimately, the pain of going through his injury and recovery on his own after his leg was crushed. He remembers having to go no-contact after he’d sued Bobby and the department. It was excruciating, being cut off like that. He can only imagine how it must have felt for Hen, not wanting to add more worry to their plates.
But then Eddie says, “Wish you would’ve just told us.”
“You didn’t ask. None of you did,” Hen replies, bitter and biting, and Buck just loses the plot.
The anger rises, simmering below the surface, trapped beneath a lid ready to blow. Seeing Hen angry that they haven’t asked about the illness she’s been hiding feels like looking at a funhouse mirror. He’s hearing his words, everything he’s been feeling for months, coming out of Hen’s mouth.
It twists something inside his guts, hearing her say that she’d kept everything secret because no one had asked, as though he hadn’t tried to check in with her regularly in the aftermath of Bobby’s death. As though he hadn’t stopped by to drop off home cooked meals and baked goods after the space capsule had returned to earth.
He’s constantly reached out, with questionnaires, care packages with Hen’s favourite fresh-baked treats, and offers to hang out or help out. He continued to reach out – to check in, or to offer connection like with Bobby’s snickerdoodles - only for Hen to brush him off. He’d reached out to Karen, offering to entertain the kids to give them a night to themselves, only to be gently turned down.
He might not have asked “How are you doing?” directly, but past experience had shown him Hen didn’t approve of the direct approach.
It has him second-guessing himself, though. Maybe he hadn’t made himself as available as he could have in the seven months between Eddie taking over his home again and settling into his own place. He’d thought about inviting everyone over for a house warming, but between Deryl living in his attic and… everything else, he’d just never planned it.
He almost apologizes, especially seeing the contrite expressions on everyone in the room, but then Hen says “He was our captain, but he was my friend,” like Bobby hadn’t died so Chimney could live, like Bobby somehow meant more to her than he did to anyone else in the room for being her friend. Like Buck hadn’t lost one of the most important people in his life.
Bile rises in the back of his throat, and he seethes, thinking of all the times he’s tried to be there for her, for everyone, only to be told he’s making everything all about himself.
He balls his hands into fists in his lap, white knuckled, blunt nails digging into his palms, and says nothing.
Tonight isn’t about him.
When Hen collapses, for a brief, bitter moment, he’s angry that she’s taken the wind out of his sails, and he’s disgusted with himself for it.
Chimney and Eddie are immediately by her side, assessing, while Maddie calls 9-1-1. Athena holds Karen, partially in comfort, and partially to give Eddie and Chimney space to work. With no helpful role to fill, Buck heads to the front door to direct the paramedics; Alex joins him, shaking a little.
“I’m not much use in a medical emergency,” she explains, tone self-deprecating.
“You’re not running, or screaming,” Buck points out, shifting into first responder persona. “Hold the door open. I’m going to meet the paramedics on the ground. Every second can help.”
She gives him a minute nod, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. He’s down the hall, to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. LAFD response time to the building is seven minutes, so Buck calls and holds the elevator waiting for them to arrive.
The adrenalin courses through him until he has the team from the 115 in the apartment, and they have Hen hooked up to the lifepack and on the stretcher.
Then he just feels… empty.
Karen rides in the ambulance with Hen, and the mood shifts from panicked professionalism to stoic concern and remorse. Buck knows without asking they’re all going to go to the hospital to wait for news on Hen. It’s just the done thing.
As Alex says her goodbyes and the others determine their transportation to the hospital, Buck puts the lid on the charcuterie tray and puts it back into the fridge. He gathers the wine glasses to put them by the sink to be washed later, knowing Athena hates to have a mess left out. He reaches to turn the water on to start washing them so she won’t have that to worry about when she gets home.
Her fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling his hand away from the faucet. Her grip is strong and sure, fingers warm against his pulse point. “Leave that for now, honey.”
“I don’t mind,” he tells her, wanting to have something to do. Wanting an excuse to avoid the hospital for a little while longer.
“It’ll keep,” Athena stresses, firm pressure pulling on his wrist to turn him away from the counter. “I need you to drive me to the hospital. Maddie is driving Eddie and Chimney, and I’m in no state to drive myself.”
Another task – another goal to accomplish – is something he can handle.
He should have known it was too good to be true.
Trapped in a moving metal box, with nowhere to go, Athena speaks without looking at him, eyes on the road. “It’s not true.”
He grips the steering wheel, hands ten and two, and doesn’t look over at her.
“What Hen said. It isn’t true.” Athena’s voice is the same determined calm he’s come to depend on. “I’ve seen you checking in on all of us these last few months. I’ve seen you reaching out, and trying to connect. I know you helped my kids when I was too lost in my own grief to help them myself.”
“It was just Bachelor Monday,” Buck grumbles, eyes stinging.
“You made sure they had a hot meal and someone to listen,” Athena commended, voice brooking no nonsense. “I should have said something sooner, but you need to know that I see what you’ve been doing.”
Knuckles turning white around the wheel, Buck swallows around the lump in his throat.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were staging an intervention when you invited me over?” The words are out before he can consider them, voice flat, without affectation.
“I…” Athena starts, but she can’t give him a straight up explanation.
“Are you always going to see me as Bobby’s screw-up son?” Buck asks, voice quiet enough that it’s hard to hear over the surrounding traffic. “You’re always going to be waiting in the wings for me to ‘Buck it up.’”
“That’s not true,” she protests. “I see how you’ve grown, and I respect the man you’ve become.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you giving Hen or Chimney the heads up,” Athena admits, finally, turning to look at him. Buck keeps his eyes on the road.
“You didn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut,” Buck points out, resigned.
“I didn’t think you’d agree with me,” Athena tells him, voice cracking. “You would have told me not to spring it on them, or tried to talk me out of it, but these two needed to talk it out. I thought having Alex there might have mitigated some of the volatility.”
“That backfired on you.”
“It certainly did,” Athena agrees with a wet laugh, and Buck finds himself laughing with her as they pull up to the front entrance of the hospital. Athena slips out of the truck, and he leaves to park in the visitor lot.
At the rate they’re going he’s going to need to invest in a year-round parking pass.
They wait in the ER waiting room, then move to the med-surg floor when Hen is admitted after they’ve run their tests.
She wakes up, and of course he’s grateful that she does. He would be a monster to consider anything else. He stands quietly by the door, hands on his hips, studying her as Athena sits at the foot of her bed apologizing for her own grief about the death of her husband.
Whether its sincere, or born out of the fear of nearly losing another person, Buck can’t tell, but it’s almost too much for Buck to keep quiet. He cocks his head to one side, feeling the thoughts spinning wildly in in his head, desperate to burst out.
It isn’t about him.
The doctor gives the diagnosis, something that Buck has never heard of before, but he files the name in his brain bank to review later when he can get his synapses to fire properly.
There’s a mention of radiation exposure, and Buck is a little surprised to find that Chimney’s space virus idea actually has some merit to it. The doctor’s expression seems hopeful when he explains Hen will need medication and physiotherapy, as though these will magically heal her of a progressive condition.
Buck knows from experience this isn’t the case. Chronic issues don’t go away – you just find ways to deal with them.
The doctor tells Hen it will be a fight, and everyone in the room tells her there in it with her.
Buck stays silent.
He’d been on Hen’s side about the firing; he’s been sidelined for a medical condition before. He understands the fear that comes from the thought of not being able to do the job better than anyone else.
He’d just never have pushed to come back if he hadn’t been medically cleared.
He doesn’t say anything.
Tonight isn’t about him.
Karen stays with Hen in the hospital overnight. They’ve done away with restrictive visitor policies because it’s been shown that patient’s recover better with friends and family present, so the support staff have brought in a cot for Karen to sleep on.
May stops in front of the hospital to pick up Athena and bring her home. They share a look, like Athena is begging him to understand something, but he’s too tired to grasp it.
His thoughts spinning, he turns down Maddie’s offer for a ride home. He doesn’t want to have to come back to pick up his car, and Chimney’s also in no condition to drive. They leave together, followed by Eddie who makes a comment about wanting to see his son before he goes to bed, as though Chris isn’t fifteen and staying up later than his dad on a regular basis now.
Buck is the last one to leave the hospital, and the only one going home to an empty house.
He doesn’t remember stopping at the four-way stop at the intersection near his home, but he’s pulling into his driveway and killing the truck’s engine. Running it should stand out, because the signs are huge red octagons with large block lettering, but his mind is blank – just no recollection of even going through it at all.
There’s static in his ears, louder than the sound of the keys clicking in the lock. The house is dark, because there’s no one waiting up for him to get home. He doesn’t turn one on as he moves through the house to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
His hands are shaking as he fills it from the tap; water sloshes over the rim of the cup, landing on his socked feet. He hates the feeling of socks on his feet, even more so the wet fabric clinging to them or the squishy damp feeling of the cheerfully coloured antifatigue mats he’s set down in the kitchen.
He bends to take the offending garments off, but his elbow knocks the water glass with enough force that it falls off the counter. It misses the mat, and shatters across the tile. The sound is cathartic – it sparks something in his brain, and he looks for the next closest thing.
It’s a framed picture of everyone from Hen and Karen’s vow renewal ceremony. They’d all received a copy, and he’s set his in a small frame by the window in the kitchen.
He whips it across the room, with a primal scream, sound reverberating in his ears. It hits the adjacent wall with a satisfying crack. The frame breaks, chipping the wall paint, and the glass shatters into smaller pieces when it hits the floor.
Buck takes a step forward, looking for something else to destroy, but his socked foot finds a large piece of jagged glass. He can barely feel the added wetness through his already damp socks, but the pain draws him up short.
Picking his foot up, the shard stays imbedded, and blood starts to seep through the white cotton.
He sets his foot on the sink, pulls the glass out, and removes the sock. It isn’t deep; nothing a band-aid won’t solve. He turns the tap on, water luke-warm, and starts to flush the injury clean. He watches the blood mix with water in the sink basin, watches it flow down the drain, and can’t help but think it’s an analogy of some form. His mind is a little too tender to put a name to it right now.
He’s not certain how long he watches the water run, but the water is cold and his bad leg is starting to seize up from the position. The clock on the counter tells him it’s an ungodly hour, and below it, where he’s set a picture in a place of honour, Bobby looks on in disappointment.
With quick, practiced movement, Buck has the cut dried and bandaged. Carefully, he gets the dustpan and brush and sweeps the debris up. The glass at his feet is wet, and it sticks to the bristles, but he makes due. He picks up the picture frame next – the picture is fine, their smiling faces grinning back at him, and he’s grateful. As unmoored as he feels right now, they’ve been his family for nearly nine years, and it’s not something that can just be given up on.
He goes over everything with the vacuum so no stray pieces of glass get left behind, and his hip and thigh are aching by the time he’s done. He has the wherewithal to grab an ibuprofen and his heating pad before heading to the bedroom without his glass of water.
He wraps his leg with the heating pack, dry swallows the pill, and prays he hasn’t done more serious damage to it.
His last act before lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and disassociating is to send a message to Dr. Copeland asking for an emergency session.
He is not okay.
Tag List: @chemistry66, @jujuberry136, @nyx212, @chimneyschewinggum, @emakataken, @thecarrott, @theknightswhosayni, @14brisingr, @1thesewordsaremyown1, @kinardnatural, @moonydanny, @queerasbuck, @bidisasterevankinard, @sgprfan, @stuckinthemiddle22, @icyfox17, @janus-echo, @zeraparker, @magdalyna, @verschlimmbesserung, @slytherin77, @rinsfanfics01, @owlgirl495, @beanarie, @bybobbysbeard, @skippinghollanov, @harmonic-intervention, @momotonescreaming, @magdalyna,@inawickedlittletown, @jade-randomosity, @hcrm, @fenrirscarsback, @babybyebuck, @bluroux, @readingshadowstothemoon, @crimsonwildcat-blog, @fandomforever27, @whizzzerbrown, @liahliahscliquee, @aurora-boreas-borealis - Let me know if you want to be added or removed. There's going to be one more part to this.
Part 2 - S9.09 Coda. Thanks to @bluroux for betaing. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Summary: "Have you heard of the 'Grey Rock Response?'" Dr. Copeland had asked him during one of his solo sessions. When he'd shaken his head, she'd explained a little more. "It's not a long-term solution in a relationship, but it is a tool you can use in specific situations."
Buck feels like his whole life right now might be one of those situations.
On AO3: Don't Paint My Rainbow Grey - 4773 Words - Overall Rating: T
Chapter 2
“Anger rarely manifests out of no where,” Dr. Copeland’s calm, reassuring voice carries out of the laptop speakers. “Beneath the rage, or the bravado, is usually a deep-seated fear. The fear of loss, most often. Loss of control, loss of life. If we understand what’s triggering the anger we can deal with the root cause.”
Buck laughs, because the root cause should be pretty obvious. “My boyfriend dumped me, my sister was kidnapped by a serial killer, my captain died, and my friend was just diagnosed with a chronic illness. Which one do you want to address first.”
“They are all significant traumas, to be certain,” Dr. Copeland agrees, placid smile on her face. “But I don’t think that’s why you’ve requested this session with me.”
He sits, silent, letting her words sink in. He recognises the tactic now, the pause to let him gather his thoughts. “Everything is falling apart. I’ve been trying so hard to keep everyone together, but they’re just drifting further and further apart.”
“And you feel like this is your responsibility? To keep everyone moored and afloat?” Dr. Copeland’s kind, curious tone doesn’t make it sound like a failing, or an accusation.
“Bobby’s last words to me were that the team were going to need me,” Buck explains, and it’s the first time he’s told her about this. The first time he’s told anyone. “I thought I was checking in, and being supportive, but the harder I try, the more I’m pushing them away.”
“Have you considered that maybe Bobby just meant you needed to be yourself?” Again, in her kind tone, she presents a leading question.
She waits patiently for him to respond, the silence inviting him to speak. The answer comes to him quicker than he would have liked.
“I don’t think they like the real me,” Buck admits, deflating. He’s been dancing around it for months, but every attempt at connection has been rebuffed, every opportunity to ridicule him has been taken.
“That’s a pretty bold statement,” Dr. Copeland points out, watching him through the screen. “Did something happen to lead you to these feelings?”
And it would be easy to spill it all out in the open. The dismissal, the micro aggressions, the lack of trust, the teasing that doesn’t feel like teasing. All of it with no one to listen to him, because he makes everything all about him. The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley; are they in act ninety-eight yet?
He can’t bring himself to say it, though. The words stick in the back of his throat, and he reaches over to grab a sip of his water to give himself time to think.
“Hen and Chimney having a pretty big disagreement,” Buck finally decides, not telling Dr. Copeland what it was about. He’s not going to air other people’s health issues without their consent. “Athena tricked them into coming to her house so they could have a mediated discussion. Everyone was aware she was doing it but me.”
“And that made you feel like you were left out?” Dr. Copeland prompts after he pauses.
“It makes me feel like I’m not even wanted,” Buck finally admits.
Steepling her fingers together in front of her, Dr. Copeland leans forward towards the screen. “Okay. Lets unpack that.”
*** 9-1-1 ***
Dr. Copeland helps him to see that he’s placing his own fears and motivations on the behaviour with others. She reminds him that he can’t hold himself responsible for others’ actions, only his reactions.
With that in mind, he doubles down on his efforts to support Hen, and the team – his family.
***9-1-1***
Hen is easy to help, now that they know what’s going on. It’s a few quick clicks to become an internet expert on dematomyositis – Wikipedia, Reddit subgroups, Cleavland Clinic website. He tries not to fixate on the fact that twenty percent of people can reach full remission with proper interventions – because there’s no guarantee and no amount of work that can force it. It really seems to just be luck of the draw.
Diet is an easy part to focus on for him. He hadn’t realized how much the kitchen meant to him until he was no longer in it, making food for the people he cares about. Without the station meals, and with no one to cook for at home, he’s felt unmoored.
The sardine loaf feels particularly inspired, after finding out about the option to make bread with fish baked in, it seems like a no-brainer. The Jello mould, he’ll admit, was less of a good idea. While the gelatine would be a good source of protein, along with antioxidant rich vegetables, he’d been more concerned with whether he could make something visually appealing and less concerned with whether he should. He’d had fond memories of eating Jello salads when he was a kid, because his mom made them for special occasions, and it was something Maddie could make them when they were young.
Bobby had also had a thing for Minnesota salads, as he’d affectionately called them.
Hen had at least waited until Buck had left the house to throw that one out.
Still, cooking in Hen’s kitchen, with Mara and Denny around, had felt good, and for the most part he knew his efforts were appreciated.
He feels like there’s more he can do to help the others, though. The opportunity to kill two birds with one stone presents itself when he overhears Chimney and Eddie talking over food.
“Hen’s been getting a little stir crazy at home, so I’m looking for places she can get out to do some of her physical therapy. Maybe with a nice back yard,” Chimney is saying.
“There aren’t a lot of places with good green space,” Eddie commiserates. “I’ve been trying to get Chris out more, too. He’s struggling with his most recent growth spurt, so his mobility is a little limited, which is making him self-conscious.”
Buck hesitates, not wanting to insert himself into their conversation, but… he has a solution and it’s helpful, he steps into their space and waits for them to say anything. When neither acknowledges him, he speaks. “I have pretty decent yard space in my back yard.”
It earns him two identical quizzical looks, Eddie and Chimney glancing up at him like he’s grown a second head. Still, he persists, because he is in control of his own reactions.
“I was looking up the benefits of hydrotherapy for children with CP back when Chris was getting set up for his surf lessons,” Buck explains, and it feels like another lifetime that he was that involved in Chris and Eddie’s lives. “I know growth spurts are hard because the bones are growing faster than the muscles. I’ve got a hot tub that could help Hen and Chris with the muscle pain. I can even use bromine instead of chlorine to be gentler on the skin, because sometimes the chlorine can be irritating if Hen has a skin flare up.”
“That’s a good idea coming from you, Buck,” Chimney quips, like he’s surprised Buck is capable of being considerate. “Let me run it by Hen and Karen and see if we can’t spring her for an afternoon.”
“I’ve also got a decent patio, so Hen would have some space to do her physio exercises,” Buck points out, pleased that his house won’t be empty.
“Shit man,” Eddie comments, smiling warmly like he used to – when being friends with Buck was easy, and Buck was helpful, and Buck didn’t make everything about himself. Buck takes a deep breath, reminding himself he is only responsible for his own reactions. He can be calm, and collected. “Chris and I would really appreciate that.”
Which is how Buck finds himself kicked out of his own home on a day off while Eddie teaches Hen to Samba and Chris does his stretches in the sun-filled backyard. Once again, he feels like he’s on the outside, always stuck looking in, but at least he’s helping the people he cares about.
Hen’s recovery seems to go well, until it doesn’t. At first, he thinks it’s just him. He shows up to help in the kitchen, or drop off baked goods and gets turned away, Karen just shaking her head sadly.
“She’s having a rough day – not really up for visitors,” Karen will tell him, turning him away at the door. He would take it personally, but everyone at the station starts chiming in that they’re being turned away as well with gentle lies. It means something that Karen has told him the truth, but it hurts none the less.
Swallowing it down, Buck reminds himself he can only control his reaction, and he can keep it together for the team.
“Maybe she just needs some time to herself,” Eddie points out, like he’s never been sidelined from the job he loves. And it's ridicious, beacuse Eddie has dealt with the shooting, the transfer to dispatch liason, and being held back in El Paso due to hiring freezes. If there is one thing they have in common, it's that this job is in their blood. Eddie should understand.
“No,” Buck points out emphatically – knowing first hand how hard recovering was when he was on his own, and when it felt like everyone was moving on without him. He’d confided that to Maddie, and she’d remembered after the lightening strike; as annoying as the constant babysitter rotation had been at times, it had meant the world to know he wasn’t alone. “Isolation doesn’t help the healing process. She needs people to support her.”
“Maybe we’re a reminder that she’s not here, doing what she lives to do," Chimney points out, and it's insightful for someone who's never been sidelined with an uncertain prognosis - both times he's had life threatening injuries, Chimney has escaped with barely more than a scar and a cool story. Still, he's able to display empathy for his best friend. “Might be hard for her to see us right now.”
“Okay, so what do we do?” Buck refuses to sit back and do nothing.
“Keep showing up.” Eddie sounds resolute, like he expects sheer force of will to help buoy Hen up right now. Buck can't help but think it's trite and unhelpful, but he's knows he's being uncharitable.
Eddie's right that Hen needs unwavering support. It's just that there’s only so many times he can show up and be turned away.
***9-1-1***
The knocking is insistent when Harry shows up to his door.
Buck’s not disappointed to see Harry – he can’t be after the time he’s spent with Bobby’s step son, getting to know the young man. It doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it isn’t someone else, coming to check on him. To see him.
“Can I hide out here?” Harry asks, stepping into the house without waiting for a response.
When it comes to Harry, the fact that he’s Athena’s son is always at the forefront of his mind. The specter of Bobby is always looking over his shoulder. Harry is his own person, but he’ll never be able to divorce Harry from the two people who raised him.
“If it’s from your mom, absolutely not.” Despite the new understanding that seems to have formed with Athena since Hen’s collapse, Buck is still half afraid of what she could do to him.
“No,” Harry shakes his head, and there’s a slight quirk to his lips with Buck’s reaction to Athena. “I’m hiding from my shame.”
Buck had heard about Harry’s fall in training, but May had mentioned when he'd sent her a text that she'd talked to her brother and that Harry was gung-ho to get back at it. His panic takes Buck by surprise. “What happen? I thought you were back in training.”
“I was, but then I froze up.” Harry paces, wringing his hands, at a loss for what he’s doing. Buck keeps calm, trying to emulate what Bobby would do for him. Harry continues, “When it was time to climb the ladder I – I panicked.”
Buck processes it. The panic he can deal with. The panic is something every firefighter has to face and get over. The run towards things that everyone else is running away from. No matter the age, a firefighter in training needs to recondition a lifetime of preprogramed response to run from danger. “That’s the whole point in training. You panic there so it doesn’t happen in the field.”
“So how do you not panic everywhere?” Harry responds, frustration bleeding into his voice.
That one is harder for Buck to deal with. He’d spent his childhood seeking dangerous situations for the attention and connection it provided him. His innate sense of self-preservation was a little skewed. Chimney would call it reckless or impulsive, but Buck had spent years calculating what acceptable risk was. “You just don’t.”
Harry scoffs. “That is completely underwhelming advice.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were coming over. You get lukewarm peptalks when I’m unprepared.” He needs a second to think, to consider what Bobby might say, or what he wishes someone would have said to him in a similar moment. He goes to the fridge, eyes sliding by the dent left in the drywall, and grabs a drink for Harry, considering the best way to help him. “Look, it’s normal to be scared. What makes it brave is that you show up anyway.”
Harry opens the cap to the juice, but looks down at his feet. “Is it brave? Or is it selfish?”
“Selfish how?” The question leaves Buck stumped, because he’s been called selfish by countless people, for countless reasons, but never for choosing to do the job.
“If something happens to me, what happens to them?” Harry looks up at him with baleful eyes, and Buck understands.
“You mean your family. Your mom.” And there’s the crux of the matter, crystalizing in Buck’s mind. The fear and the doubt make a vague kind of sense to Buck, now. That chasing the one thing that makes him feel alive is going to put the people he cares about at risk of pain in the future, the loss of Bobby still fresh in their minds.
“I… I don’t want to be the reason why she has to plan another funeral,” Harry finally admits.
“You can’t think like that,” Buck tells him, in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. He can’t relate to Harry’s fears. He’s placed himself in harms way for so long that he’s run out of people willing to care what happens to him on the other side. His parents, Maddie, Ali… and even now, if he were to disappear, he’s not certain anyone would question where he’d gone, except to consider who would pick up his slack.
Harry shouldn’t have that problem, though. He has family who love him and want him around, and he has a team of firefighters who will be invested in his success.
“So what do I do if that’s all I can think about?” Harry asks, Buck’s words doing nothing to assuage his concerns.
Taking a deep breath, Buck considers his resources. Harry’s issues are outside of Buck’s scope of experience, so he’s going to need to pull in outside resources for a solution.
“You spend the day here, we play video games, or watch some trash TV, and we distract you until you can think about something else.” As far as plans go for Harry, it’s a pretty shitty one, but Buck needs to buy some time to figure out what May and Harry actually talked about.
It gets him out of his own head, and it’s good to feel useful, and like he’s someone’s first choice, even if it’s just for this.
He gets Harry set up with some reality fitness challenge on Netflix and sits on the opposite end of the couch. He pulls up an article to read while surreptitiously texting May to figure out if she said something to Harry to get cause him to second guess himself like this. It turns out he opens up another can of worms helping May deal with her reservations to having her baby brother enter a dangerous profession so soon after losing her step father…
Once he has the full picture of what went down, he makes plans to visit Athena at the precinct, and sets up a coffee date with Maddie to see if he can’t pick her brain about how she dealt with him going back to work after the bombing, even when she clearly didn’t want him to.
***9-1-1***
He sits in the waiting area of the station, cozy in his sweater against the AC pumping in the building. He hadn’t bothered telling the officer working the desk who he was waiting for, wanting a chance a chance to collect his thoughts before confronting Athena.
She’s surprised when she sees him, mind immediately going to the worst. “Buck? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
“It’s about Harry. He came to see me after his first day back.” He gets it out quickly, in part to reassure her, and in part to keep up his nerve. He’s made a point of not confronting Athena since the first call they’d interacted on, and he’s definitely poking the bear here. “Actually, he didn’t even make it through the whole day.”
“I knew it!” Athena bites out, her protective instincts kicking in. “It was too soon for him to go back.”
“Look, I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with him,” Buck goes to reassure her, because that much is true.
“But you’re worried enough to show up here.” Athena can see right through him, though; she’s always been able to see through his bullshit, and it makes him nervous that he has nothing to hide behind with her.
“Okay, so, you know that voice you get in your head? Uh, the one that says ‘You suck. You… you can’t do anything.’ I…” He realizes his mistake, considering who he’s talking to, and all but stumbles over his words. “I mean, you probably don’t have that voice.”
“Everyone has that voice, Buck. Even me,” Athena points out, short with him, and he can’t tell if she’s annoyed he thinks so highly of her, or that he’s implying something’s wrong with her son. “Okay. So what? You think Harry’s gotten into his own head?”
“No. I…” He swallows, reminds himself he’s come here for a reason, and needs to make up for it.
“I think you have. Not that you did it on purpose. I think the accident, and your response to it, scared him. But not for himself. Scared him for you.”
It’s different for Buck; it’s not the worry or fear for others that’s held him back. It’s everyone’s opinions on him. That he’s selfish. Impulsive. Childish. He’s coasted, because no one else believed he could; or told him he wasn’t ready.
The only person who’d asked him if he’d wanted more from his career hadn’t been Bobby. It had been…
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to see him give up and regret it later.”
Athena’s eyes go soft, and whether it’s because she sees through Buck and knows what’s going on in his head, or something else, Buck feels his eyes sting at it. “You’re a good friend, Buckley. Harry’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
“He’s lucky to have you as a mom,” Buck responds, not letting himself shed any tears.
They don’t hug, but Buck gets the impression Athena wouldn’t push him away if he’d tried for it.
***9-1-1***
Whatever Athena says to Harry works, because he makes it back to the academy and graduates with the rest of his class.
Chimney makes a point of requesting him for their house, ready to take on a new probie on A-shift. He makes a joke about nepotism, but there isn’t really any word for what relationship Harry has to the rest of them. Their dead captain’s step-son.
Buck is glad to have a chance to show Harry what the 118 can be, and bring back the found family they are. He takes great pleasure in handing Harry his helmet, welcoming him officially to the team. He’s happy Hen and Karen are there, and when they come together in a group hug, he makes a point of bringing May into it as well. She’s as much a part of them as anyone else at this point, and he’s going to honour Bobby’s last wishes, even if it tears him apart doing so.
***9-1-1***
“I love my children so, so, so much,” Maddie comments when he stops by to talk to Maddie about helping May. He shows up under the pretense of coffee and banana muffins for Jee, but quickly gets waylaid. “I just never thought I would hit a point in my life when my greatest desire would be to go to the bathroom by myself.”
She’s joking, Buck knows. It’s been different for her, this time around; a little easier post partum with baby Han. Still can’t bring himself to call the kid by his given name, but he doesn’t feel bad because apparently Maddie and Chim can’t either. He hopes the little guy can avoid Buck’s fate; it’s lonely growing up in the shadow of someone you’ll never be able to live up to.
Still, he sees a need, and knows how to help. Being of use – acts of service one of his exes had called it – was how he could show up, and support her. “I can take Jee and the baby, if you need a break.”
“You think you can handle that?” There’s no snide tone to accompany the words, but Buck can’t help but feel defensive at the question, like he hasn’t been around helping with Baby Han, and hasn’t looked after Jee countless times before.
Taking a deep breath, he reminds himself of Dr. Copeland’s words. He’s just projecting his own fears
and insecurities onto the conversation. “Sure. I can take the two of them for the afternoon. You can even make it a sleep over if you and Chimney want a night to yourselves.”
There’s doubt and uncertainty written all over her face at the offer, and Buck forces himself to believe it’s because she’s not ready to leave her baby with him overnight, rather than doubt about his ability to look after his niblings.
He holds onto the thought until it’s time to pick the kids up for an afternoon together. The plan is for them to have a nice early dinner, and then bring the back for bed time. “That means 6:30, Buck, and no later. I have to be able to bathe them and get through their bedtime routine.”
Buck doesn’t argue that he could get the kids ready for bed; he’s done it often enough when he’s been over at their place. Instead, he focuses on hooking the car seats into second row seating in his truck. Doesn’t say anything when Chimney doublechecks the install, as though Buck hasn’t just gone through the car seat training again so A shift could have someone do the checks at the station when needed. Just grits his teeth and keeps the peace when he hears Chimney make joke about Buck needing a babysitter of his own.
It’s not even funny, but Maddie laughs, tapping Chimney on the shoulder, and tells him to cut it out. Neither of them notice the way Buck focuses on taking steady breaths, or the way his hands clench and relax at his sides.
It’s fine, though, he’s only responsible for his own reaction.
Both kids safely strapped into his car, he starts the engine and waves goodbye to Maddie and Chimney. They’ve already turned and are back in the house.
Another deep breath, and he pulls out of the driveway to take the kids to Griffith Park for a picnic and to let Jee burn some energy off at the playground. He’s packed an easy spread of finger foods, and baby safe foods that Baby Han can gum on. He even makes a point to pack a loaf of banana bread with reduced salt, sweetened with applesauce so that they can all share. One of his recent research binges had been on picky eating, after Chimney had complained, his son wasn’t taking to solids the way Jee had. He’d come across advise that kids were wired to eat what their parents did as a form of protection, so he figures they can all share.
Once the food is done, Jee finds a group of kids her age to play with, and takes off to the playground. Buck sits with Baby Han under the shade of a tree to keep a watchful eye on his little niece who no longer needs him quite so much. It’s amazing watching her grow, and he delights in spending time with her, but it’s obvious that in a few years she’s not going to want him around in the same way.
“Then it’ll be you an me, little beeb,” he says to Baby Han, and the kid just gives him a gummy smile and blows bubbles with his own spit. Baby Han isn’t a newborn anymore, but he still smells warm, and sweet, and there’s nothing better than snuggling up with him on the picnic blanket. Buck smiles, despite his mood, and considers maybe it’s moments like these that make it worth it.
Jee doesn’t put up too much of a fight when Buck tells her it’s time to go. She chats to him the whole way home about the new friends she’s made, and the baby falls asleep in his carseat despite the AC blasting the non-stop noise.
He arrives at their house at 6:27; He can see Maddie and Chimney slow dancing together through their front window, and he hesitates to interrupt, but then Jee has herself unbuckled and is running up to the front door to see her parents. Buck gets Baby Han out of the car, and the movement startles him awake – but he seems to be content from his little cat nap.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Jee starts saying as soon as she’s through the front door. “Uncle Buck took us to the park for a picnic, and I made three new best friends!”
Maddie sweeps her up in a big hug, while Chimney works to get the baby out of his carseat. He makes a show of checking the kids over to make sure they’re all in one piece. Buck shoots him a frustrated stare, but keeps his mouth shut.
Maddie listens to Jee, looking at her for all the world like there’s no where else she’d rather be. She’s a great mom, but Buck’s always known she would be. She grew up in trial by fire, raising him. He’s sure he has his issues, but he can’t lay them at Maddie’s feet.
Turning her gaze to Buck, Maddie smiles at him softly, and it fills him with warmth. Then she sees something in Baby Han’s face that makes her smile turn into a frown. “Did he fall asleep in the car?”
“Yeah,” Buck admits, ruffling the baby’s hair. “It was only for about fifteen minutes, but I think the fresh air and sunlight tired him out.”
“Damnit, Buck,” Chimney starts, soft enough that the kids don’t hear him, but Buck does. He knows how important the kids sleep schedules were to Maddie, but he’s also not going to be the asshole who keeps a tired kid awake.
Buck takes a deep breath, ignoring the discomfort growing in his chest, and reminds himself he’s only responsible for his own reactions. He can ignore it; he doesn’t need to react to this.
Putting a calming hand on Chimney’s shoulder, Maddie shares a look with her husband, and Chimney deflates and mutters an exhausted. “Sorry, Buck. Thank you for taking them for the afternoon. It was nice getting some time to ourselves.”
Buck smiles in response, and is convinced when he responds that it isn’t a lie. “Don’t worry about it. I’m always happy to spend time with my two favourite people.”
Swooping towards Jee, she squeals in delight when Buck picks her up and flips her upside down and peppers her cheek with kisses. He sets her down and tickles Baby Han’s cheek to elicit another gummy smile in response.
With that, he leaves the Buckley-Han family to get ready for bed and heads back to his own empty house.
Tag List: @chemistry66, @jujuberry136, @nyx212, @chimneyschewinggum, @emakataken, @thecarrott, @theknightswhosayni, @14brisingr, @1thesewordsaremyown1, @kinardnatural, @moonydanny, @queerasbuck, @bidisasterevankinard, @sgprfan, @stuckinthemiddle22, @icyfox17, @janus-echo, @zeraparker, @magdalyna, @verschlimmbesserung, @slytherin77, @rinsfanfics01, @owlgirl495, @beanarie, @bybobbysbeard, @skippinghollanov, @harmonic-intervention, @momotonescreaming, @magdalyna,@inawickedlittletown, @jade-randomosity, @hcrm, @fenrirscarsback, @babybyebuck, @bluroux, @readingshadowstothemoon, @crimsonwildcat-blog, @fandomforever27, @whizzzerbrown, @liahliahscliquee, @aurora-boreas-borealis - Let me know if you want to be added or removed. There's going to be one more part to this.
No one tagged me, but the supressed angst needs somewhere to go lest I completely throw the next three days of Fluffebruary.
Here's another snippet of the 9.09 coda for my "Buck Leaves the 118" fic. It's going to end up being compliant to 9.10, and we'll see how much it stays that way.
Maddie listens to Jee, looking at her for all the world like there’s no where else she’d rather be. She’s a great mom, but Buck’s always known she would be. She grew up in trial by fire, raising him. He’s sure he has his issues, but he can’t lay them at Maddie’s feet.
Turning her gaze to Buck, Maddie smiles at him softly, and it fills him with warmth. Then she sees something in Baby Han’s face that her smile turn into a frown. “Did he fall asleep in the car?”
“Yeah,” Buck admits, ruffling the baby’s hair. “It was only for about fifteen minutes, but I think the fresh air and sunlight tired him out.”
“Damnit, Buck,” Chimney starts, soft enough that the kids don’t hear him, but Buck does. He knows how important the kids sleep schedules were to Maddie, but he’s also not going to be the asshole who keeps a tired kid awake.
Buck takes a deep breath, ignoring the discomfort growing in his chest, and reminds himself he’s only responsible for his own reactions. He can ignore it; he doesn’t need to react to this.
Putting a calming hand on Chimney’s shoulder, Maddie shares a look with her husband, and Chimney deflates and mutters an exhausted. “Sorry, Buck. Thank you for taking them for the afternoon. It was nice getting some time to ourselves.”
No pressure tagging for @chimneyschewinggum, @emakataken, @thecarrott, @frogsinflannel, @jamieroyjamieroy, @corporatebanana, @whizzzerbrown, @beanarie, @queerasbuck, @kinardnatural, @sad-girl-hours23, and anyone else who wants to join in.
I was tagged last week by @inawickedlittletown, but I've been so caught up with Fluffebruary that I haven't been getting much writing done for other things. Here's a snippet from the Buck leaves the 118 fic I'm noodling with.
“Anger rarely manifests out of no where,” Dr. Copeland’s calm, reassuring voice carries out of the laptop speakers. “Beneath the rage, or the bravado, is usually a deep-seated fear. The fear of loss, most often. Loss of control, loss of life. If we understand what’s triggering the anger we can deal with the root cause.”
Buck laughs, because the root cause should be pretty obvious. “My boyfriend dumped me, my sister was kidnapped by a serial killer, my captain died, and my friend was just diagnosed with a progressive neurodegenerative disease. Which one do you want to address first.”
“They are all significant trauma’s, to be certain,” Dr. Copeland agrees, placid smile on her face. “But I don’t think that’s why you’ve requested this session with me.”
He sits, silent, letting her words sink in. He recognises the tactic now, the pause to let him gather his thoughts. “Everything is falling apart. I’ve been trying so hard to keep everyone together, but they’re just drifting further and further apart.”
“And you feel like this is your responsibility? To keep everyone moored and afloat?” Dr. Copeland’s kind, curious tone doesn’t make it sound like a failing, or an accusation.
“Bobby’s last words to me were that the team were going to need me,” Buck explains, and it’s the first time he’s told her about this. The first time he’s told anyone. “I thought I was checking in, and being supportive, but the harder I try, the more I’m pushing them away.”
No pressure tagging for @chimneyschewinggum, @emakataken, @thecarrott, @frogsinflannel, @corporatebanana, @whizzzerbrown, @kinardnatural, @sad-girl-hours23, and anyone else who wants to join in.
I really enjoyed reading everyone's Crash out fics, but didn't really feel like I had anything to add to the space until the idea of Grey Rock Response came back to me.
I've loved reading the explosions and the arguments, but I also like the idea of Buck just quietly detangling himself from the rest of the 118.
I think it's going to diverge from canon during the auction episode. I definitely need to rewatch a few things to remember what I meant with my re-watch notes, but here's a little snippet from the next part
“I think I might not have been clear enough in our previous sessions,” Dr. Copeland begins, looking contrite across the screen of his laptop. “When I told you that you are in control of your own reactions, I didn’t mean you had to control of your emotions, only that you get to decide how you express them. If someone says something hurtful, you are allowed to feel hurt – whether you lash out, forgive them or set boundaries is the choice.”
“I’ve been pushing down all of the negative emotions for so long that I’m worried they’re going to blow,” Buck admits, beyond frustrated with the situation he’s found himself in. It’s one of his own making, leaving the blame squarely at his own feet. It also means the solution is within reach as well. The way he’s been living is no longer sustainable, the hole punched into his drywall evidence of that. He swallows, steeling his nerves. “Can you tell me again about the Grey Rock method?”
can I ask about “GreyRocking (Buck crashout fic)” ?
Of course you can ask, HJ! It's Don't Paint My Rainbow Grey - the Buck Snaps and leaves the 118 fic. The premise is that he's going to just shut down the jabs/barbs and quietly leave for the 122. It was meant to be a coda for 9.08, but then I was able to keep close to canon for a few episodes and now I'm stuck with whether I keep doing that or if I finally branch away and write the rest of the fic.
