Buck unties the apron and hangs it up before uncovering the pot of chili. The scent is exactly the same and, a quick taste test later, is as close to what Bobby used to make as he can get it.
Taking a deep breath, he makes himself smile as he turns around and announces, "Dinner's ready."
"Not hungry, Buck," says Chimney on the couch.
Hen is at the table poring over paperwork. "Thanks, Buck, but I don't know if I have the appetite right now."
Buck swallows down the disappointment. "Right. Okay, uh, I-I'm just gonna leave that on the island. Help yourselves to it when you get hungry."
Gerrard and Eddie walk out of the office at that point and Gerrard sniffs the air. "Buckley, you made dinner again?"
"I've washed the dishes and utensils I used already, sir." Buck keeps his expression as pleasantly neutral as he can. "Would you like some?"
Gerrard harrumphed. "Well, I would. But I'll serve myself.."
After Gerrard takes a bowl and walks back to his office to eat, Eddie wanders over and plops into the chair next to Hen.
"Can't believe you're cooking for that old geezer," Eddie says.
"I'm not cooking for him, I'm cooking for everyone on shift." Buck stirs his chili. The color is rich and the scent decadent. He wants to throw up.
Eddie rolls his eyes. "Well. At least he appreciates it."
"You can have some too," Buck says quietly. "I'm not stopping you from getting a plate."
"Nah. Think I'll just order a burger, I'm gonna head home soon." Eddie stands.
Buck slaps his ladle on the counter.
He doesn't know why he did that. Abruptly, he stands and heads to the kitchen island to grab a dishrag to wipe away whatever mess he made.
"You don't have to be passive aggressive about me eating something else," Eddie says.
A bowstring in the depths of Buck's mind snaps. He grabs the pot of chili and dumps the lot of it, pot and all, into the trash.
He stares at the hours of work he's just discarded, and swallows down the tears before turning around to go downstairs, except the three others are now all standing and staring at him, like he's gone mad.
Maybe he has. Who the fuck cares.
Eddie has his hands on his hip. "What's with the dramatics now, Buck?*
"None of you want it anyway. Why should I bother?" Buck snaps.
"Buck, we just weren't hungry," Chimney starts, but falters when Buck glares at him.
Hen steps closer. "Buck, you didn't have to throw the food away."
"Do you even know what I made?" he demands.
All of them are silent. Buck feels another bowstring break.
"I made chili. Bobby's chili. With his secret ingredient," Buck says. "Hours. Washing, chopping, cooking. No one asked."
"Buck, we were busy," Chimney offers weakly.
"I know, I went out on the same calls as you. I mopped up the bay floors, took inventory, rolled the lines. I did my job and I cooked." Buck gulps down the sour frustration in the back of his throat. "I cooked for us. But I guess I should know better by now."
"You're gonna make it about you again, Buck?" Eddie sounds exasperated. "We've talked about this."
"No, we didn't. You accused me of it, just like you're doing now, and so what if I'm making it about me?" Buck explodes. "Am I not allowed to feel emotions? Am I supposed to just grin and bear it? To let you say those things like they don't hurt?"
The silence that falls over them is deafening.
Buck can't even look at them. "You think I don't know I'm being irrational and obsessive about all this? I don't know what to do! I don't know what to do, and there isn't anyone I can ask, but I am trying! I'm trying and I get no acknowledgement of it. Every time I reach out, you guys just brush me off or, or talk about me behind my back, like I am not mature enough to handle difficult topics. Like I'm a child."
"Buck, that's not -"
"It is, Hen, and you know it is. But I have a duty. I have to... I have to, I have to check in on Chimney, and on you, and I don't even know how to approach Athena but I will have to, and I have, I have to think about, think about how Eddie feels, what he thinks, because otherwise he would hide important stuff from me, his so-called best friend, and he gets angry when I find out even though he's the one hiding secrets, a-and work goes on, and no one eats together anymore, and I'm trying. I am trying so hard to keep the 118 as it was, but I can't do it."
"No one asked you to," Hen says gently, reaching for his shoulder, but Buck bats it away and steps back.
He stares at her bleakly. "Bobby did."
The atmosphere chills about ten degrees. Buck hugs himself. "Bobby told me... He told me I'm gonna be okay. That you guys would need me." He can't stop the tears now but he doesn't care, he's so tired. "But you don't. None of you do. And I don't think I'm gonna be okay, not anymore."
Eddie takes a step forward and Buck backs up. Incredulous, Eddie stares and folds his arms. "And you think any of us are gonna be okay?"
"I didn't say that-"
"So what are you saying? That you're special and your feelings are unique?"
"You weren't here," Buck spits out, cutting Eddie off.
Eddie goes pale and tense. "Buck, don't you throw that in my face-"
"You weren't here when Bobby fired me and took me back into the 118. You weren't here when he showed me that he believed in me. He was... He was the one who guided me through my first real relationship, and he had... He'd..." Buck wishes he could grab someone and point them to all the things Bobby's taught him. "The last thing he said to me... The last thing he said to me, was 'I love you, kid'. He was proud of me and he loved me, which is so much more than my own father ever showed. In every way except for blood, Bobby was my dad. And everything I've done since that night was to prove that... That I could live up to his expectations, but I can't, and I'm sick and tired of having to be okay, when I'm not, of trying to be the one you guys can reach out to, but none of you even have a hand outstretched, and I know I'm not Bobby, I can't be him, but all I wanted was for us to have a meal together, like the family he made us."
Hopelessly aware that he's a blubbering mess, Buck scrubs his palms over his eyes and cheeks before he pushes past Eddie and a silent Hen.
Chimney reaches out to him. "Buck -"
"I'm done, Chimney. You guys eat whatever you want. Do whatever you want. I'm done."
He tears down the steps and runs out of the firehouse. It's not about the chili. It never was about the chili.
But he wishes they had taken some and they could have eaten together.
Sal walks over to say hi to Han, and catches the tail end of Han saying to a firefighter named Buckley, "We don't need a repeat of the firetruck missing because you wanted to impress someone."
"That was like ten years ago, Chim, give it a rest," Buckley retorts without any real bite. He sounds tired, actually.
That must be Tommy's Evan Buckley then. Tall as Tommy, not as broad, long legs. Is that a limp he's seeing? The man is favoring his left leg and putting more of his weight on the right.
Frowning slightly, Sal strides over and offers a hand. "Congrats, Han. Finally made captain." He tilts his head and adds, "Sorry about Nash, though."
"Not that I wanted to get it, but..." Han shrugs and accepts the handshake. "How have you been?"
"I'm good. Heard about Wilson getting sick. That Buckley, is he new?"
"Nah, he's the next most experienced in this station other than me," Han replies. He motions to someone to the left to re-roll the line, and Buckley jogs over immediately to help. "He's my brother-in-law too, if you can believe that."
"I can," Sal answers. His eyes track his team, pleased that they're working fast, and in the meantime he observes the new 118, noting how often Buckley steps up to assist whoever needs an extra set of hands.
When Buckley nearly trips over a first aid box as he is talking to a fresh-faced kid, Han sighs and calls out, "Watch where you're going, Buck!"
"Who's the idiot who left the kit there?" Sal throws in, his voice rolling through the scene. A dark-haired man pokes his head out of the ambulance, scowling. "Pick up your shit, medic, unless you want more people you need to treat."
Han turns to him, half-smiling, and not too friendly. "I don't need you captaining my guys, Sal."
"Not sorry, though. Buckley could've hurt himself." He doesn't point out the now-obvious discomfort on Buckley's face as he leans on the ambulance or the way his hand is massaging his left knee.
Han shrugs. "Won't be the first time. Ravi, we ready to go?"
"Five more minutes, Cap."
"Alright, hustle up, we're heading back in two!" Han bumps his elbow against Sal. "Another time, Deluca. Ravi, Harry, get a move on. Buck, c'mon. Time to go."
Buckley holds up a thumb. His other hand is still rubbing his knee. Han doesn't comment on it.
Sal goes back to his own team. Lim has just taken off her helmet and is climbing into her seat. Sal joins her, nodding to Peters to take the front seat with Booker.
"Think you can find a way to poach Buckley from the 118?" Sal asks.
"Can you do that?" Peter exclaims from the front.
"I can and I will. I just wanna find the easiest way to do it."
Lim doesn't even glance up from her phone. "Thought you'd prefer Greene from the 206." Then she snorts. "It'll have to be stealthy, though. Everyone and their moms want him at their station."
Except for Han, Sal doesn't say. "He's Han's brother-in-law. Do what you can with that info."
"Gotcha, Cap."
Sal leans back and lets his team chatter away at one another. It isn't polite to poach, but Salvatore Deluca has never claimed to be a gentleman.
Someone had a post with this scenario but I lost it so if you're the one with the idea just lmk
Edit: it's this post
+
Chimney is keenly aware he doesn't measure up to Bobby as a captain, but right now he is even more conscious that he has failed as a friend.
He should have called before today. He really should have. Bobby would have, Chim is sure of that.
He really should have gone in person with Jee and Maddie to thank Tommy for saving his life the second he was let out of hospital. He should have sent flowers or edible arrangements or a private helicopter to the man who risked his career and life.
But Tommy is now hooked up to a handful of machines in the hospital, and Chimney wouldn't have known if he wasn't here for a review of a tweaked elbow, and now he's seated in a hard chair next to Tommy's bed while the latter is still deep in hopefully dreamless sleep from an emergency operation.
A collapsed lung. Bleeding in one kidney. A stab wound into the top of his left shoulder.
"They say he was jumped while he was getting into his truck," says the nurse, relaying what she was told.
Tommy is a big guy. The bed looks too small for him, almost. His stubble is coming in and his hair is greasy and lank on the pillow, and the bruises on his face look sickeningly dark, with edges of yellow-green.
On the bedside table are Tommy's effects. Plain black leather wallet, house keys with a flat helicopter keychain, and a ring box.
A ring box with a simple gold band inside. Chimney isn't usually able to restrain his curiosity, but this seems to be something too personal for him to poke and pry about.
He has something more pressing to deal with as well.
Do I tell Buck?
If it were Chimney lying there in bed, he would not want an ex-girlfriend to know.
But he would want Maddie.
For all intents and purposes, Buck seems to have moved on. Sort of. He still bakes, but it seems to be for fun now; he goes out on dates, but they fizzle out.
And he always looks up whenever they hear a helicopter.
Chimney groans. Buck is not over Tommy. But has Tommy moved on? Is it kinder to both of them not to tell them about Tommy being hospitalized? And Buck is especially fragile right now, too, after his ordeal in New Mexico.
Surely whoever the ring is for would have got a call, though. Tommy's emergency contact has to be his new squeeze, right? Especially if it's someone he has bought a ring for.
The door to the ward opens abruptly. It's Buck, his eyes wild and his cheeks flushed with exertion.
"Tommy," Buck pants out, and then his gaze sharpens. "Chimney?"
"I just found out, like, twenty minutes ago," Chimney says, standing up and holding up his hands. He's mentally shaved ten minutes off but Buck doesn't need to know that. "I was just checking on my elbow."
"How is he?"
"Made it through surgery, so it's just a matter of waiting for the anesthesia to pass." Chimney doesn't comment when Buck takes the chair on the other side of the bed to pick up Tommy's slack hand in his own. The tenderness of Buck's caress and gaze confirms Chimney's suspicion: Buck isn't over Tommy.
He wishes he learned sleight of hand or something. He wants to get the ring box someplace safe, but if he tries anything now, Buck will notice.
Tommy, ever the lifesaver, stirs. "N...not d..."
Buck is instantly on alert, bending close to Tommy, and Chimney uses the commotion to slip the ring box into his own pocket.
Something starts beeping obnoxiously. The nurses rush in and both Chimney and Buck are unceremoniously ushered out.
"How did you know to come here?" Chimney asks while they wait in the corridor.
Buck looks ashamed. "Tommy put me down as emergency contact after our second month and, uh, I guess he never..."
Oh, Chimney thinks, and realizes that Tommy is so far gone on Buck that he isn't ever going to be over their relationship.
So what's with the ring?
"He's alert now, but he can't take long conversations. Who's the emergency contact?" A nurse comes out, rubbing her hands together vigorously.
"I am," says Buck.
"Five minutes."
Without a second glance at Chimney, Buck enters the ward.
Chimney slides a hand into his pocket and closes his fingers around the box. He'll wait his turn.
+++
"I wasn't expecting you," Tommy croaks.
Chimney sits and, checking over his shoulder at Buck who's outside helping Tommy to make phone calls, fishes out the ring box.
"I'm sorry, I should have called and checked up on you," Chim says quickly. "And if that's meant for someone who is not Evan Buckley, I can hide that for you until you're discharged."
Tommy bites his upper lip, and then holds out his right hand, palm up. "Give."
Chimney gives. Then he leans over Tommy and, with great caution, hugs him. "I'm sorry I've been a shitty friend."
"'s okay. I owe you."
"Not anymore you don't." Chimney pulls back and smiles. "For what it's worth, he misses you a lot. Whatever comes out of his mouth, remember that the kid isn't a talker, he's a doer, and he really, really misses you."
Tommy's blunt fingers play with the box. "Miss him too." He winces and his eyelashes flutter. "This is for him. F'r Evan."
"What's for me?" Buck materializes behind Chimney, who definitely did not yelp in surprise.
Tommy can only smile dopily. "Something... Something I got. Today." He rolls his left hand to reveal the ring box. "Not asking now. Thought that... that maybe... maybe we'd be third time lucky... Wanted a sign."
Chimney steps back. This isn't his moment. Buck doesn't move, however, so Chimney very gently and firmly pushes on his brother-in-law's back. The second he's close enough, Buck clasps Tommy's free hand.
Tommy's eyes are drifting shut again. "Sign of... hope. Wanna... Wanna try. Do it right, with you."
"Yeah. Of course, let's try again," Buck whispers. He drops into the chair Chimney was in earlier, never letting go of Tommy. "We'll try however many times we have to."
Silent as a cat, Chimney slips out of the ward. He wants to tell everyone, but decides that this is for Buck to share when he wants to. Tommy and Buck both deserve to have this time for themselves.
Buck is very likely going to die, and he is aware of that.
"Oh, kid. This isn't how this is supposed to go." Bobby is right in front of him, looking fresh and warm and present.
Despite the pain and the thirst, Buck thinks hysterically that at least he's not dying without his captain guiding him into the afterlife. "S'ry Bobby," he forces out through clenched teeth.
Bobby sighs, and then looks up at the stained ceiling. For a long while he says nothing. Buck is suddenly awash with terror that Bobby is going to leave, and his fear kicks his pulse up up up, until he hears his heartbeat in his ears and tears roll down his cheeks.
"Don't go," he begs. His wrists tied behind him sting, reminding him of his hands. He swallows and nearly gags on how dry his throat is. "Please. Don't leave me. Not ag'n."
His head is about to explode in pain. Bobby gazes at him, fatherly and gentle. "It's okay, Buck. It's gonna be alright."
Buck knows he's a mess of tears and dried snot. His lips are torn from lack of water. "Bobby. Am I g'na die? 's this how it feels?"
"You're gonna be okay, son," Bobby says, stepping closer. He is glowing around the edges, like he's backlit. "You'll be okay, I promise."
Buck blinks and smiles weakly. "If... If y' say so."
His pulse thunders in his ears like it is drumming up whatever energy reserves he has left. His vision darkens briefly. Bobby flickers.
There are other sounds, and then something loud explodes. Buck winces and wishes he is back home, in his bed, under the covers. It's so cold. He is sweating and it is so cold.
"...van? Evan?" Bright light floods the room and Buck flinches, his eyelids closing.
Strong hands, strong familiar hands, take his shoulders and cup his cheeks. Buck blinks. It's not Bobby, it's Tommy.
He's definitely hallucinating. Buck smiles to himself. Yeah. He gets Bobby to see him to the other side, and he gets to see the man he loves too. There are worse ways to die.
"Evan! Evan, baby, stay with me, stay with me," Hallucination-Tommy urges.
"Cap's waiting," Buck mumbles. "Don't... g'na be late. Can't be late."
"Bobby won't mind waiting for you," Hallucination Tommy says, then shouts over his shoulder. "Where the fuck are the medics?"
More hallucinations. He doesn't recognize them. Suddenly, his arms go slack and he lists forward onto-
Oh. Not hallucinations.
"T'my?"
"Yeah, baby, it's me, it's Tommy," says the man cradling him. Carefully, he lays Buck down horizontally.
Is Tommy crying? Buck wants to wipe the tears off his face, but his arms hurt and his hands are burning. "My T'my?"
Tommy's face goes blotchy and tearful. "Your Tommy, yes. Baby, Evan, you're gonna be okay, you're staying with me, alright? You're not going anywhere."
Bobby in the back nods. "Tommy's good people," he tells Buck. "He's good for you."
Buck smiles. "Okay. If y' say so."
There are other people doing things to Buck that makes him flinch and whimper – light in his eyes, sting in his elbow. The jostling as he's lifted off the ground.
But he always sees Tommy – his Tommy, real Tommy – never more than an arm's length away.
The thought blooms fully fledged in Buck's mind on Saturday as he wakes up, and it is so unlike anything he has ever thought that he goes from what the fuck to What. The FUCK.
Sitting up in bed, he checks his phone. Saturday 8.07am, eight minutes before the alarm goes off. He has a basket of laundry to do and a list of groceries to pick up from Trader Joe's; there are two library books due and he is supposed to be baking something for the Stitch and Bitch.
Tommy Kinard dies on Thursday at 3.49pm.
His heart thumps painfully at the thought that repeats in his head. It will be weird, won't it, for him to call Tommy and ask, hey, what are you doing on Thursday, say around late afternoon? Oh, nothing, I just can't shake the feeling you're gonna die.
He should leave out that last part.
Maybe Tommy has a shift on Thursday. A pang of something twinges in his chest. They used to have each other's shifts on a common calendar. Tommy&Evan. Sometimes they picked up extra shifts here and there, and they left notes for each other.
The last message he's had from Tommy was "let me know if you need anything". Buck had reacted with a thumbs up and nothing else.
Taking a deep breath, he texts Tommy and asks if he's working Thursday.
No, I'm free. Gonna finish up the pergola in the backyard. What's up?
Tommy doesn't even sound bothered by Buck's message out of nowhere. Like they've been conversing all along.
It shouldn't make tears come to Buck's eyes, and yet. He inhales sharply, and sends, all by yourself?
Yep
I'm quite handy around the house
as you know 😉
Buck wants to flirt back. But he can't shake the thought that woke him up from the front of his mind.
Tommy Kinard dies on Thursday at 3.49pm.
He takes a deep breath and holds it until he wants to burst. Then he calls Tommy.
"Hey," Tommy replies on the second ring. "I don't think I can borrow another helicopter until 2099."
"I'll make a note," Buck says, smiling despite the hammering of his heart against his ribs. "I'm just wondering if it's okay for me to, um, to go over on Thursday. T-to hang out."
There's a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Tommy asks, hesitation in every syllable, "Why would you wanna do that?"
Because you might die. You might actually die and I can't risk that without me seeing you one more time before then. You may die on Thursday at 3.49pm and if I'm not there it might really happen, and if it does and I could've done something but I didn't because I wasn't there, and what if I don't even have the chance to say-
"I love you."
Buck's hand flies to his mouth in shock. That is not what he intended to say. His face grows hot and his feet icy. He wants to bury himself in the foundations of his new house and never be found again. He wants to be shot into the surface of the sun. He wants to be standing right in front of Tommy to see his expression.
He wants Tommy to know.
He wants Tommy to say something.
There isn't a reply. Buck hears breathing, and a quiet gulp, but no words.
"I... I didn't mean to-to blurt that out," Buck whispers when the silence is a little much to bear. "I just... I miss you, and I can't stop thinking about you even now, and I... I love you. I'm sorry. I should have said that earlier. Much earlier. I'm so sorry."
"I'm free now," Tommy answers, not in response to anything Buck has just said.
"What?"
"I'm free now," Tommy repeats. "You don't... You don't have to wait for Thursday. You can come here, now. Come here, a-and tell me. Tell me in person." A shaky inhale, and then a hushed, "please".
A single tear escapes Buck's control and rolls down his cheek. It is so simple. It has always been so simple.
God, he's been so stupid about this.
"Okay. I'll be there in twenty." He smiles and nods. "I'll be there. Don't... Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be waiting."
+++
Tommy Kinard dies on Thursday at 3.49pm.
Evan Kinard dies on Thursday, 4.06pm, hand in hand with his husband, celebrating forty years of marriage.
ft. Theo Riley, Evan Buckley, and a certain firefighter pilot who will be given a new name
***
It's not the first time they're out hiking, but this is definitely not how Buck predicted the day to go.
They have just got to the highest point of the trail that overlooks the Pacific. It is a beautiful sight, and Theo is still energetic enough to appreciate the panorama.
"Can we have our picnic here?" the kid asks.
"Okay, why don't we go to that tree over there and we'll have some snacks before we head down?"
"But first I wanna photo for show and tell. I wanna tell my class about us hiking sooooo far!" Theo throws open his arms for emphasis.
Buck grins and hunkers down next to the boy, phone already on selfie mode. Every time they do something new, Theo wants a picture as proof he's done it. "Alright. Biggest smile you got, kid. In one, two, three!"
But just as Buck is snapping the photo, Theo sees an interesting butterfly and spins to follow its flight path. Suddenly, the ground gives way and his foot slips. With a shriek, Theo falls.
With a desperate reach Buck tries to catch the boy, his fingers catching on Theo's watch as Buck sprawls on the ground, stopping the boy's slide for a second, but the strap breaks before Buck can swing his other arm down to grab Theo. Horrified and breathless, Buck can only watch, as Theo slides down the side of the hill, coming to a stop on a narrow ledge just under a boxthorn shrub.
"Don't move!" Buck yells. His heart is about to hammer out of his chest. Does he have ropes? Webbing? How long will that ledge hold?
"I'm scared!" Theo cries, his little face blotchy and tears cut through the dirt on his cheeks.
"I know, but you-you just flatten yourself against the slope, okay? Yes, exactly like that, and don't move, I promise you, I'm gonna get help, we'll get you out of this."
Buck wants to cry himself. Still flat on the ground, he dials 9-1-1, but the second it connects, another tremor hits. The ground under Buck shifts also and he is slipping down the side of the hill. Flailing wildly, he somehow catch hold of a thicker branch within the shrub near Theo's ledge and it stops his fall. Buck is sure that the spines have ripped up his palm, but at least he's not plummeting to his death in front of a little boy who already lost his parents in an accident.
If Buck swings his feet, he'll land on the ledge. It's only a few inches away. But he is much bigger and heavier than a little boy. The ledge isn't that large; he won't risk putting his weight on it.
"Theo, can you shuffle over very very carefully?" Buck asks. His other hand is still gripping his phone tightly, and he can hear the dispatcher on the other end of the line. "Shuffle along with your tummy to the slope, okay? Just a bit closer to me."
Theo gulps and takes one step closer. Then two.
Buck can feel his hand getting wet with blood, but thankfully the boxthorn seems to be firmly rooted.
For now.
Gingerly, he passes his phone to Theo. "Take the phone, buddy."
The boy is visibly trembling, but he takes the phone.
"Put it on speaker," Buck says, reaching up with his other hand to grab the stem, closer to the root. The prick of dozens of spines startles cold sweat along his spine and over his brow. He digs his fingers in and uses the pain to focus.
The dispatcher on the other end of the line calls out, "Hello, what's your emergency?"
"This is off duty firefighter Buckley and his son, we slipped off the side of a hill when the earthquake hit," Buck states as loudly as he can, and gives the name of the trail and how far they've come. "Theo is trapped on a ledge but he's mostly uninjured, but I'm hanging from a boxthorn shrub, and my hands are bleeding. I don't know if there'll be more aftershocks and how long the ledge will hold." He inhales sharply and racks his brain to think of how to say the next part without freaking Theo out. "My grip is increasingly compromised. But the ledge may find our combined weight unsustainable if an aftershock hits."
"Copy, firefighter Buckley. We will send an SAR unit your way right now," the dispatcher says. "If your hands are bleeding, is your son holding your phone?"
"Yeah, yes he is, he's just a step away from me." Buck inhales sharply as the thorns dig deeper. "He's a very brave boy. He's gonna... He's gonna hold on to the phone and he'll yell when you say to yell."
Theo's eyes grow big and round, but he bites his lower lip and nods firmly. "Yeah, I can yell real big."
"That's good. Theo, right?"
"Uh huh."
"How old are you, Theo?"
As Theo talks to the dispatcher, Buck focuses on breathing through the pain in his hands. He can't let go. He cannot risk letting go. He doesn't even reach over with his left foot to put a toe on the ledge, because he will never forgive himself if that is what it takes to send Theo tumbling down.
After several minutes, they both hear the steady thub-thub-thub of a helicopter. Buck both wishes and is terrified that it will be Tommy at the controls.
"Alright, Theo, time to yell really loud. Just shout, we're here! Until someone says they see you."
Theo nods, and then screams at the top of his little lungs. Buck shouts too, but his voice comes out cracked. Every time he shouts the pain in his hands deepens. Tears come to his eyes as Theo shouts and shouts, his face turning red, until finally someone at the top hollers, "We see you! Alright, stay still, little buddy, we're coming to get you!"
Buck clenches his hands around the bush even more tightly. Tommy isn't at the controls of the helicopter. Tommy is right here. Tommy is saving Buck's son.
***
It should have been the best day of Theo's life. He should be asking for a thousand photos so he can tell his class about the first time he got into a helicopter.
Instead he's burrowed into Buck's side in the back, sobbing from relief and the adrenaline crash, while Buck tries his best to soothe him with hands hastily wrapped up into something resembling mittens. Tommy is next to Theo, one big hand laid awkwardly on the boy, while someone Buck has never met flies them to LA General.
***
At the hospital, Theo is wrapped in a blanket and someone gives him a juice box from Buck's backpack while the doctor pulls boxthorn spines out of Buck's hands. His face has been wiped clean of dirt for the most part.
To Buck's surprise, Tommy is right next to Theo. His face is a mask of worry and desperate curiosity, but he manfully says nothing as Buck is being treated.
"There you go." Dr Brennan smiles ruefully, her dark eyes warm. "You're not to go in to work until the skin is fully grown back, obviously. But I fear you're gonna find it hard to manage day to day until they heal."
"We'll find a way," Buck says. He glances at Theo and then his gaze flickers up to Tommy and mouths, Take him outside.
Tommy nods. "I'm gonna make some phone calls. You wanna help me, Theo?"
"Can we call from the helicopper?" Theo asks.
Chuckling, Tommy shakes his head. "Sorry, kiddo. Right now we gotta make calls to your aunt Maddie and uncle Chimney. Come on."
Once Tommy and Theo are outside, Buck sags into the chair. His body shivers. "I can't be prescribed with anything heavier than over the counter painkillers," he tells Dr Brennan. "And will gloves help?"
"The less you use your hands, the better the skin will repair itself." The doctor makes a note in his chart. "Your partner will have to do all the heavy lifting, and even the lighter lifting for a while."
He's not my partner, Buck wants to say, but he holds his tongue.
At least it hadn't been a big earthquake. Theo and Buck had just been unlucky, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The ER isn't crowded like it would've been in a multi-casualty event.
***
When Buck is finally discharged, Theo is on a chair talking into Tommy's phone very seriously. Tommy sees Buck and motions for him to take a seat too.
"It's Chim on the line," Tommy tells him. "We couldn't get Maddie."
"She's probably swamped at dispatch." Buck feels exhausted. "Thanks, Tommy. You really saved our butts today."
"And Buck said butt," Theo informs Chimney. He listens, and then says, "Buck can't hold the phone. His hands are all wrapped up. Like he's wearing mittens."
Tommy sighs and holds out a hand. "I'll speak to him."
"It's the Thub-Thub Man," Theo whispers solemnly into the phone before he hands it to Tommy. When he turns to face Buck, his eyes are red-rimmed. His gaze falls to Buck's wounded hands and he swallows visibly before he hugs himself. "Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"Is it because of me?"
Buck frowns. "Is what because of you?"
"People getting hurt. Like you. People dying." Theo's lower lip wobbles. "Like mommy and daddy."
Buck's heart breaks anew. "Oh no, Theo sweetheart. Come here. Come here, let me hug you." He wraps his arms around Theo's thin body and pulls him close. The boy starts crying. "Me getting injured has got nothing to do with you, okay? Nothing at all. You were the one who got Tommy to us, right? You did as you were told in a scary situation, and you shouted real loud when you were told to, and you were brave. It was an accident. Your mommy and daddy were in an accident, and this is an accident. We're both safe now." He kisses the top of Theo's head. "I'm safe because you were so brave, kid. You were so, so brave."
When he looks up, he sees Tommy staring at him with an inexplicable expression. Buck smiles at him weakly.
"Chimney's picking up Nash from daycare and then Jee from school," Tommy says. "He asked me to take you both home. Theo is..."
"My son," Buck says immediately. His smile tightens when Tommy raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Tell you later."
Tommy makes a face that suggests that he doesn't know how he is supposed to take that answer, but Theo is still sobbing quietly and it clearly isn't the right time. Instead, Tommy exhales a long breath and says, "Alright. Come on, let's get you boys home."
"Your car is here?" Buck is surprised. Surely Tommy didn't leave Theo alone while he went to get his car...
"Lucy and her girlfriend dropped it off just now."
Lucy has a girlfriend? Buck gently disengages from the hug but Theo clings to him. "We're going home, kid," Buck murmurs. Theo just clings tighter.
"Evan can't carry you," Tommy says gently, "so how about you hold his wrist and help him to my car?"
Theo sniffs and pulls back to look at Buck. Whatever the boy sees in Buck's face must reassure him, because he nods and lets go, long enough for Buck to stand up, and then his fingers grab hold of Buck's wrist. Then Theo turns to look up at Tommy. "You're gonna help too, right?"
"Uh."
"You said you're Buck's friend," Theo continues. "That means you'll help him too, right?"
Tommy's storm blue eyes seek out Buck's. The faintest of smiles hover on his lips. "Yes, if he wants me to."
"Of course he wants you to," Theo declares with he conviction of a four-year-old. "You rescued me and him. Buck rescued me when he was Mr Poop and we're a family now and you rescued us so you're gonna be our family too but Buck isn't allowed to die or go to heaven before you become family, okay?"
It's a lot to take in. Buck exhales shakily and smiles at Tommy. "Help me out?"
The words are stark and bloodless, but Tommy knows what it means. This Evan Buckley, cloned from cells from its donors for whatever reason, was unable to fulfill its function; returning it to Manufacturer means it will be terminated, the cells repurposed as feed or maybe as mulch.
Not an "it", Kinard. A "he". A "him".
Not just a cloned product. A person. That will be murdered and chopped into bloody bits.
It has taken Tommy several years to deprogram himself from the language used by the Firm, but now and again he slips into old patterns, even though he's no longer working for the Firm.
Sal drops into the seat next to Tommy. "Found our next rescue?"
Tommy points to the waybill.
"Sweet. Let's go steal us a clone." Sal claps him on his shoulder and squeezes.
It isn't difficult to lift a defective clone. It is near impossible to steal a new clone; the security at the warehouses rival the battalion armory down at Glint Street 77. But one that's returned and marked for destruction? No one looks at it closely enough.
Him. No one looks at him.
Tommy follows Sal into the dispatch center, both of them fully geared up, complete with the oh-so-helpful helmet covering their faces and gloving their hands.
The defective product is in his assigned room, curled up in the corner. It is a small room, so it is basically all corners.
"Up you get," Sal orders, snapping out the stun baton. "Defective product Evan Buckley."
Evan Buckley unfurls from his protective roll and struggles to his feet. His eyes are bloodshot and the skin around them puffy and pink, the tear stains on his face evident in his pallor. He is tall, as tall as Tommy, and his long legs almost buckle as he straightens.
"I'm sorry," Evan croaks. "I tried. I don't know why I didn't work."
Tommy has to stop himself from reaching out to take the clone's hand to comfort him. "Come along. We need to take you back."
"Will it hurt?" Evan asks quietly. He sounds so much like a child.
In terms of the actual number of years, Evan Buckley is a child. Less than two years of existence. Everything he knows was planted into his head with a chip. It will be several more years before he is considered a legal human being.
But he knows enough to be afraid.
Tommy clears his throat. "No," he lies.
Sal prods the clone. "Come on, don't make me use this thing. This thing will hurt you."
Evan Buckley hugs himself and comes over to them to be cuffed to Tommy. He is so withdrawn and docile that Tommy aches to assure him and tell him that he'll be okay.
"Help me pass a message?" Evan's eyes are very blue. "To my parents."
They're not your parents, Tommy wants to say. They're heartless bastards who placed an order for you and are returning you like you're a toy. Like you don't feel.
"What do you want to tell them?" is what comes out of his mouth.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save Daniel. I really tried."
Sal hurries them along to the waiting van. The clone tenses as he is dragged forward, but Sal pushes him into the van, locks the door, and gets into the passenger seat.
"Take us home, Jeeves," Sal tells Howie. "Got a clone to re-home."
Tommy unshackles Evan from himself, and the clone stares at him in astonishment. The astonishment gives way to... shyness? when Tommy removes the helmet and gloves.
"Hey," says Tommy, finally reaching out to take Evan's hand and squeezing. The clone squeezes back, his hand warm and his grip strong. "Don't be scared. We're not taking you to the Manufacturer. You're safe with us, I promise. You're leaving the city with us."
"Leaving? How?"
Howie cackles from the front. "You won't like the next part of our escape, kid. But the great thing is, you'll be alive to bitch about it!"
"As you can see, the house does need some cosmetic work, but it's in your price range, and the kitchen has a good-sized island, the windows in the living room and the master bedroom face south, so you get gorgeous light." Theresa, the realtor for this viewing, pauses and then opens a narrow door. "But I think this will the selling point of this kitchen: a walk-in pantry."
Buck hums as he peers into it, eyebrows raising in appreciation at the sturdy steel racks already set up. In his mind's eye, he can see it being stocked with snacks, dry ingredients and staples, labeled and ready for use. He can picture himself cooking meals in the kitchen. That's how he knows he wants this house.
"I want a safety inspection, and anything that needs remediation, I'll get a quote and I'll want it taken off the asking price." Buck knows it's not really a buyer's market right now, but he doesn't want to spend money on a place that would be a money pit. Odds are, he can do most of the repairs himself - the doors aren't hung properly on the second floor, for one thing - but Theresa doesn't need to know that.
Theresa smiles. "Knew that pantry would clinch it."
---
Buck moves in on a Thursday, the first day of two weeks' PTO that he has finally taken. It's not a coincidence that it's Eddie's first few days back.
He doesn't want to see Eddie. He really doesn't.
He has already updated his address online last night, pausing to wonder if Chimney will notice his change of address. Doesn't matter. Administrative paperwork may be dull but necessary.
The heavier pieces of furniture are moved onto the moving truck he rented. He hauls the chairs and couch out, secures the rug again before tossing it in, drags boxes of his books with his little trolley.
It's two in the afternoon when he sees a familiar truck heading towards his new place. He skips down the few steps to the path and saunters out to the sidewalk.
Tommy steps out of his truck, clad in a loose tank top and faded jeans, muscled arms already covered in a sheen of perspiration. It's really hot and humid. "Ready to help," he says.
Buck smiles at him and jerks his head towards the inside. "Got a few boxes for you."
The heavier boxes are his books. Tommy hefts one box into his arms and wanders back out to the moving truck. Buck wonders if Tommy saw the coffee maker box stacked together with his kitchen appliances on the side of the door.
---
It's 4pm and they are both drenched with sweat from the afternoon heat. Buck calls for a break from unpacking and Tommy drives them to the nearest strip mall to look for something to eat in someplace where the temperatures do not come from Satan's armpit.
"I'll need to fix the air-conditioning," Buck grumbles as he slumps down in the old pleather seat of a Chinese restaurant. "And re-hang the doors. Maybe repaint the bedroom - that pale green reminds me of hospitals."
Two kids are doing homework in the corner and an uncle in a stained tee is at the roaring stove frying up their orders. Tommy nods at the surly young man who slinks over with their fried rice, coffee ribs, bok choy in oyster sauce and mapo tofu.
"I'll help," Tommy offers. "Just let me know when and how."
Buck smiles and nudges his foot against Tommy's. "Payment in beer or in pizza?"
"In desserts," Tommy replies blandly.
The food is excellent. Buck steals the last of the ribs from Tommy with his fingers instead of chopsticks. Tommy scoops the remaining quarter of the mapo tofu onto his rice in retaliation.
They share a mango shaved ice after that and Buck thinks, We can do this.
---
When Buck gets back to work, Chimney asks how the new place is.
"Needs some work, but the foundation's good," he says.
No one offers to help with fixing it up. Later, he thinks about it, and realizes that that he didn't expect them to. He still wishes someone did, though.
---
They get a new air-conditioning system from a guy Tommy knows (30% off is a good-sized discount, and Buck is thankful). They take the doors off and hang them properly so the corners don't scrape against the floor.
Tommy also helps him find a larger fridge as well as a chest freezer, and patiently loads the pantry according to Buck's system. Buck makes tiramisu for Tommy's troubles, and if they lean a little too close while sharing the dessert... Well.
---
Buck has decided on a blue for his bedroom, but he can't decide which of three different blues he wants.
When Tommy sees the swatches on the walls, he points to one - a muted cornflower blue - and says wistfully, "This looks like the sky the first time I flew."
---
"You busy this Friday evening?" Eddie asks. "I was thinking if you can watch Chris."
"Sorry, I gotta go pick up a dresser," Buck says. He doesn't offer to change his plans when Eddie waits with raised eyebrows.
After a beat, Eddie sighs and walks over to Hen to ask if she minds Chris popping over for a catch-up with Denny.
Buck resumes washing the rig. "It's in Orange County," he mutters to himself. "Solid maple. Vintage. Owner's moving to Spain and letting it go at a tenth of its value."
---
The next time Tommy comes over, the room is already painted, and Buck holds out a hand. Tommy stares at it, and then takes it with a tiny smile.
But Tommy laughs as they twirl around and around. When they stop, Tommy's face is all scrunched up in his biggest grin, and Buck knows his own face is flushed.
"Let's move that vintage dresser where you want it," Tommy murmurs. "Can't have you living in a house with nowhere to put your clothes."
Buck doesn't release him. "Can I keep a drawer for you?"
He sees Tommy's grin gentle into a smile, he sees him swallow and lick his lips. Finally, he nods. "I'd love that."
"I'm gonna dig up more projects to do around here," Buck warns him. "You're gonna need lots of changes of clothes. Best keep that drawer full."
Chuckling, Tommy presses his forehead to Buck's. "I'll do that."
Buck closes his eyes and the distance between them.
