Chapter Text
Buck stood bone tired and emotionally drained, staring into the darkness of his open locker. The steam from the shower still clung to his skin, warm against the chill of the air-conditioned station. The events of the day had taken everything he had left and only seemed to intensify the ache in his body that had been building for weeks.
Behind him, the station buzzed with life, footsteps, conversation, the low hum of radios, but it all felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. Only Chimney’s words cut through the fog, playing on repeat in his head: “This is the 118, and it’s not just a number — it’s us.” Buck wanted to believe that. God, he needed to. But he didn’t know if he could.
“They’re gonna need you,” Bobby had said with his dying breath. What a lie that turned out to be. Buck had tried, really tried, to show up for his team, to carry them through the same grief that was quietly crushing him. He'd put his own pain aside, thinking maybe if he could be strong for them, it would help. Some of his efforts had been misguided, he’d be the first to admit that, but they came from a place of love. It just hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t been enough.
All he’d done was drive a wedge between himself and the people he’d once called family. It was Chimney who had rallied them. Chimney that had Eddie now considering moving back to LA, had everyone finding solid ground again and even had Buck weighing his decision to request a transfer out of the 118. Buck? All he’d managed to do was make things awkward and uncomfortable for everyone. He could still hear Eddie’s voice in his head, sharp with anger and frustration: “The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley, a tragedy in 97 acts.”
Buck shook his head and grabbed his go bag. He slammed the locker shut, the metal ringing louder than expected. He let his palm rest against the door, closing his eyes, trying to take a calming breath.
Maybe he had been selfish, clinging to Bobby’s traditions, trying to recreate something that no longer fit. What brought Buck comfort seemed only to remind the others of what they’d lost. So he’d backed off. Retreating into himself. And the silence of his friends and family that followed had been deafening.
No one noticed when he stopped checking in. No one said anything when he sat alone in the corner, only speaking when he had to. It was in that silence that the thought began to form, one he hadn’t been able to shake since.
Maybe it was time to leave the 118.
Not Los Angeles, his family was here. Maddie, his niece, his soon-to-arrive nephew. He didn’t want to run this time. But maybe it was time to find a different firehouse. Because without Bobby, he wasn’t sure there was still a place for him here.
Bobby had been more than a captain. He’d been the father Buck never had and always wanted. His compass. The one person Buck could turn to when everything else felt like too much. Their quiet conversations, some of the most grounding moments of his life, weren’t something even Eddie knew about.
And now Bobby was gone. And Buck felt untethered, drifting, questioning everything, including whether he still belonged to the family he’d fought so hard to find.
Sighing, Buck pushed away from his locker and turned to make his way out of the locker room. As he moved through the station, footsteps quickened behind him. He didn’t have to look back to know it was Eddie. Buck’s shoulders tensed, his jaw tightening instinctively, as if preparing for a fight. Ever since their argument in the kitchen a week ago, there's been an unease between them. It was the first time in all their years of friendship that Buck didn’t know how to be around him, and a part of him was questioning if he even wanted to be.
“Hey,” Eddie called out, catching up. “Can I grab a ride back home with you? I took an Uber to the scene.”
Buck didn’t stop walking. “Sure,” he said flatly, eyes forward.
They walked side by side through the hallway, but Buck didn’t try to fill the silence the way he usually would, no random facts, no dry jokes. Just quiet. For once, he let it stay that way.
In the parking lot, Buck unlocked the truck and tossed his bag in the backseat before climbing in. Eddie slid into the passenger seat beside him, shutting the door a little harder than necessary. The first few minutes of the drive slipped by in near silence, broken only by the low murmur of the radio.
“You’ve been quiet today,” Eddie said, shifting in his seat.
Buck shrugged, eyes on the road. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t know how.
Eddie tried again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of transferring out?”
Buck glanced over, expression unreadable. “I knew what you would say and I needed to make the best decision for me.”
Eddie exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, Buck.”
“Good,” Buck said quickly. “Because I don’t have the energy for one.”
Eddie leaned back in his seat, voice tight. “I don’t know how to deal with you anymore. It feels like you think you’re the only one who lost him. Like we’re all fine and you’re the only one still holding the weight.”
Buck’s hands tensed on the steering wheel. “That’s not what I think.”
“Then what do you think?” Eddie asked, turning toward him. “Because you’re not saying much these days.”
Buck let out a bitter breath. “Every time I tried, it was the wrong thing. I tried to hold us together, and all I got was told I was making it about me.” He turned looking pointedly at Eddie, as if to remind him of all the times he had said those exact words to him. Instead, he just sighed and turned to look back at the road, deciding to not offer anything more. The silence that followed was heavier than anything they’d said. Eddie looked away, jaw tight, offering no response.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. The city blurred past, a rush of lights and motion, but none of it felt like home. Not anymore.
Buck pulled up in front of the house, parking behind what he assumed was Pepa’s car. All he wanted was to collapse on his bed and sleep for the next 12 hours, but he knew the second he walked in he’d have to put on a face for Chris and Pepa, and he didn’t know if he had it in him.
As Buck reached for his bag, Eddie opened the door with a sigh and muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” before heading inside without another word, not waiting for Buck to follow.
Buck watched him go, jaw tightening. He was really starting to regret subletting Eddie’s house. If he still had his loft, he could’ve dropped Eddie off and driven home. Alone.
****
The door clicked shut behind Buck as he stepped inside. The warmth of the house hit him all at once, the smell of food, the soft glow of the lamp light, the familiar sound of Chris’s laughter echoing faintly. It should’ve made him feel something good. Instead, it made his chest tighten.
“Buck!” Chris called out the moment he spotted him.
Buck forced a tired smile as he saw Chris sitting on the couch, his face lit up as he saw Buck, and reaching out with both arms, slow and deliberate, the motion slightly stiff but unmistakably clear.
Buck didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and crouched beside the couch, wrapping Chris in a careful, steady hug, holding on just a moment longer than he normally might’ve. Chris squeezed as best he could, one arm curling tight around Buck’s shoulder.
“You’re okay,” Chris mumbled into his hoodie. “You got out.”
“Yeah, buddy,” Buck whispered back, his throat tight. “I got out.”
Pepa stood just behind them, her arms folded gently over her chest. “We were watching the news,” she said quietly.
Buck pulled back from the hug and sat back on his heels, eyes fixed on the floor. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a breath. “It was a rough call.”
She moved to stand beside him and gently rested a hand on his shoulder, her grip tightening gently as she tried to offer him some comfort. “I made arroz con pollo,” she said softly. “It’s in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“I’m heating some up,” Eddie said, already rising from the couch with a glance toward the kitchen. He looked at Buck, not pressing but clearly waiting.
Buck stood, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks, but I’m good. I just want to sleep.”
Eddie took a small step forward. “You sure? You didn’t eat much at the station.”
Buck’s shoulders sank slightly. “Like I said, I’m good. Not hungry.”
The silence that followed was louder than any argument. Chris looked down, chewing his lip. Pepa frowned but didn’t press. Eddie lingered a beat longer, the frustration came off him in waves but said nothing as he turned to make his way into the kitchen.
Buck turned to look at Chris smiling softly and he said goodnight and headed towards the hallway.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he walked, but he didn’t move to check it. Not yet. He shut the door behind him, not slamming it, but not careful either. His bag hit the floor with a soft thud as Buck leaned against the door, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath all day. He stayed like that for a few moments before finally pushing off and walking toward the bed.
Still dressed, he collapsed face-down, the mattress gave a bounce as he fell, his feet hanging awkwardly off the bed, but he didn’t move to adjust. Muscles heavy. Eyes burning. He lay still, unsure how long time passed, until the murmur of voices in the hall tugged him back from the edge of sleep.
Groaning, Buck rolled onto his back and sat up slowly. Rubbing his hands down his face, he reached into his pocket and tossed his phone onto the bed. He’d check it in a minute. First, he grabbed a change of clothes, pulling on a clean T-shirt and sweats before quietly slipping out to the bathroom.
Just as he made his way to the bathroom door, he heard voices, Eddie and Chris, talking low in the living room.
“So what would you say to coming back to L.A.?” Eddie asked.
Buck paused. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but the question stopped him cold.
“Why?” Chris asked.
“This is home,” Eddie said. “Being out with the 118 today, God, I forgot how much I missed this. I know you’ve made friends in Texas, and I’m glad for that, but... you were happy here too.”
“Before you messed it up,” Chris said, quiet but clear.
Buck winced, not needing to see Eddie’s face to feel the impact.
“Yeah,” Eddie said after a beat. “I did. And I’m sorry, Chris. I never meant to hurt you. That’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”
There was a creak from the couch, Buck imagined that Chris was reaching out to hug his dad.
“So… what do you think? Would you be okay moving back after the school year?”
“Where would we live?” Chris asked.
Buck held his breath.
Eddie laughed. “Here, of course. This is our house.”
“So… we’d live with Buck?”
“No. He’d have his own place again. He moved in to help while I was with you in Texas.”
And there it was.
Buck’s grip on the doorframe tightened. Hearing Eddie own up to the past should’ve eased something. But all he could feel was the hollow ache of being left out again. Of being an afterthought.
Of course Eddie hadn’t talked to him about this. Why would he? Buck had only been living here. Holding the house together. Picking up the pieces Eddie left behind.
He shouldn’t be surprised. But it still stung. Guess I’m moving, he thought, turning he headed back to his room, careful not to make a sound as he closed the door behind him.
Buck dropped onto the edge of the bed, the mattress barely giving beneath him. This place had never felt like home, more like borrowed space, so the thought of finding a new place didn’t upset him, but the idea that Eddie could decide for him, without even talking to him first, that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He didn’t know when Eddie would want to move back in, and that started to stress him out as he didn’t know where he’d go. His loft was long gone. Maddie and Chimney were preparing for the baby. Bobby…Bobby was gone. And he doubted Athena was up for having a roommate, he thought with a laugh.
He let himself fall backward onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath him. For a moment, he just lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to process everything he just heard, but the buzz of his phone tugged at his attention.Reaching for it, he unlocked the screen and saw he had a few missed messages. One from Maddie asking him to call her. He didn’t have to guess why, Chim had probably told her about the transfer request.
But it was the second message that made him pause. Tommy.
They were in a weird place, they weren’t back together, but they also weren’t strictly friends either. Tommy had been there for Buck in the immediate aftermath of Bobby’s death. He’d been the one to take him home after the debriefing, the FBI, the Army, and everything that had followed since Bobby’s death.
That first night, Tommy had been his rock. They’d both been in shock, in denial that Bobby was really gone. Buck had always known Tommy respected Bobby, but it wasn’t until then that he realized just how deep that connection ran for his ex. Tommy opened up to him that night, sharing some of his favourite memories from his time at the 118 with Bobby, Hen and Chim. He also told him that Bobby had been the first person in the LAFD Tommy ever came out to and was there supporting him as he navigated his way to becoming an LAFD pilot. Bobby had given him the confidence to be himself. Even after Tommy transferred to Harbour Station, they’d kept in touch.
After that night, they texted occasionally. Brief check-ins, but nothing too deep. At Bobby’s funeral, Tommy had walked with them as pallbearers, shoulder to shoulder with the 118, but they’d barely spoken. He knew there was a lot they needed to talk about, but he hadn’t been in the head space to have what he knew would be an emotional conversation. He was also scared. Scared to hope that maybe they wouldn’t get a second chance.
He opened the message.
Tommy: Heard about the building collapse. Hope you’re okay and managed to avoid the hospital this time.
Tommy: Let me know you’re okay. Or if you need anything.
He didn’t want to ask for help. But he couldn’t keep doing this, carrying the grief like it was nothing, pretending the silence didn’t eat him alive. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, uncertain. He didn’t even know what he needed. Just that he couldn’t sit in the dark alone again. Not tonight. Not after everything. He just knew he couldn’t do another night pretending he was okay. He needed Tommy.
Evan: Still in one piece. No trips to the ER this time
He hesitated, taking a deep breath, he added:
Evan : Can I see you?
He didn’t know if Tommy was working. Or even awake. But still, he waited, willing a response to come. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long as the typing bubble appeared quickly.
Tommy: Of course. Did you want me to come to you?
Buck: Is it okay if I come to you?
His nerves flared. He bit his lip, watching.
Tommy: You’re always welcome here.
Buck smiled faintly. Once, that wouldn’t have been true. Not right after their breakup. But now, he was glad they were in a better place.
Evan: I can head over now if that’s okay?
Evan: Did you want me to bring anything?
Tommy: Head over whenever. I’ll be here.
Tommy: You can if you want, but I’ve got food.
Evan: On my way.
Buck grabbed his favourite hoodie to throw over his t-shirt, and fished his keys and wallet out his jeans, before making his way out of his room. He made his way to the front door, hoping to make a quick exit, but knew that would be hard with the living room right by the front door.
“Going somewhere?” Eddie asked, eyes flicking over to him.
Buck didn’t stop moving. “Yup,” he said simply. “Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Buck—”
He shook his head. “Message me if you’re going to the airport tomorrow. I’ll come say goodbye.”
With that, he stepped out into the night and shut the door behind him.
****
The drive to Tommy’s went by faster than Buck expected. He’d spent most of it trying to mentally prepare for seeing his ex after so long, just the two of them, no interruptions, no distractions. The closer he got, the more that familiar gnawing weight pressed down on his chest. He couldn’t quite name it. Guilt? Grief? Or maybe it was that quiet, persistent fear that whatever fragile thread had reconnected them might snap if he pulled too hard.
He didn’t want to lose Tommy. Not again.
He parked a little crooked on the curb and sat in the driver’s seat with the engine ticking softly beneath him. For a long moment, he just breathed, slow, shallow, in and out, staring at the familiar house. It hadn’t changed. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
Taking one last deep breath, Buck got out and made his way up the walkway, hands shoved deep into the pocket of his hoodie. He didn’t knock. He didn’t have to. Tommy opened the door before he could lift a hand.
“Hey,” Tommy said, voice soft.
Buck paused, held still in the comfort of Tommy’s presence, the kindness in his eyes, the way they crinkled with the smallest smile.
“Hey,” he echoed, and stepped inside.
Tommy’s place hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here. There was a comfort in being there again. The smells, the folded blanket on the back of the couch that Buck used to wrap around himself as they sat on the couch watching a movie or something random Buck would throw on.
They lingered awkwardly in the entryway, unsure of how to start.
“Can I get you anything?” Tommy finally asked, gently breaking the silence.
Buck hesitated. “Some tea would be great.”
Tommy nodded and made his way into the kitchen preparing both of them a cup of tea. He came back a few minutes later, with a cup in each hand, and a box of Tommy’s favourite cookies under his arm. “You can’t have tea without a cookie,” Tommy had once said to him. So it had become their thing when they wanted to settle in for the night, tea and chocolate cookies.
Buck grabbed his cup from Tommy and settled back into the couch. Tommy sat on the other end, offering Buck a cookie before tossing the box on his coffee table. He sat angled so he could look at Buck, blowing on his tea before taking a tentative sip. Sitting in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Buck finally spoke.
The weight of the past few weeks pressed down on Buck like a heavy fog. He wasn’t sure why he’d come, or what he hoped to say. Maybe he should start small, casual, like ‘how have you been?’, but that felt wrong and he knew Tommy would see right through him.
Instead, his voice broke the silence, barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Tommy’s gaze softened as he leaned forward, voice gentle but steady. “Evan, what on earth do you have to be sorry for?”
Buck let out a shaky breath, eyes fixed on a spot just past Tommy’s shoulder. “Everything?” he offered, voice barely above a whisper. He gave a helpless shrug, the kind that carried more weight than any apology ever could.
“For pushing us when we weren’t ready. For the awful things I said that morning in the kitchen.” His voice cracked, the next words catching somewhere deep in his chest. “For pulling away after Bobby… after he died.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glinting with the tears he hadn’t quite let fall. “Take your pick.”
Tommy set his mug on the table. Then, without hesitation, he reached forward, took Buck’s cup from his hands and set it aside, too. He closed the space between them and wrapped his fingers gently around Buck’s.
“You weren’t the only one who made mistakes,” Tommy said gently. “And after Bobby…I didn’t want to push. I knew how much you were hurting, but I didn’t know what you needed, and I was afraid if I got it wrong, I’d just make it worse.”
Buck looked down, then pulled his hands free to rub at his face, suddenly exhausted. When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy, rimmed red.
“Since Bobby died, it’s like something inside me cracked wide open, and now I can’t seem to close it. I don’t even know what I’m feeling half the time. Grief, guilt, anger…it all just blends together. And the worst part is, I keep trying to carry it like he would’ve wanted me to, but I’m not him. I’m not steady like that.”
Tommy’s voice softened. “Evan.”
“I was scared,” Buck said, cutting in. “Scared that if I leaned on you, I’d need too much. That I’d be this… broken, clinging thing and you’d regret letting me back in.”
He hesitated, his words trembling.
“I didn’t want to be something you felt stuck with,” he whispered. “I was scared you’d start to see me as a burden. And I, I didn’t know where else to put all this grief. All this mess. I didn’t know how to hold it alone, but I was too afraid to ask you to help carry it.”
Tommy didn’t hesitate.
“You are never too much for me, Evan.” His voice was soft, but filled with quiet certainty. “I wish you’d reached out when it got too heavy. I would’ve carried it with you. You don’t have to be afraid. Not with me.”
Buck blinked, startled by the force of those words.
“I don’t know who made you believe your needs were something to apologize for,” Tommy said, his voice thick with emotion. “But they were wrong. I should’ve pushed harder to be there for you. I should’ve shown you that you didn’t have to carry it alone. Because if you’d let me, I would’ve held you. I wouldn’t have let you fall. My arms…they would’ve been your safe place to land.”
And that, that was the moment the tears came.
He couldn’t stop them. This was why he hadn’t been able to let Tommy go. Why he hadn’t even wanted to try. Because Tommy saw him, really saw him, in a way no one else ever had. He made Buck feel not just understood, but safe. Cherished.
“Tommy,” Buck choked out, reaching for him. He pulled him in with clumsy desperation, their bodies folding awkwardly into each other on the narrow couch.
“I’ve got you, Evan,” Tommy whispered against his ear.
Those four words cracked something wide open. The sobs ripped free, raw and unfiltered. Buck clung to him, fingers fisted in his shirt, face buried in the crook of his neck as grief surged like a flood. Tommy didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t ask for words. He just held him, firm and steady, one hand moving in slow circles across Buck’s back, murmuring quiet, grounding things that didn’t need to be heard to be felt.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Buck let himself fall apart—knowing someone was there to hold him through it.
****
Buck didn’t know how long he cried.
Time blurred in the warmth of Tommy’s arms, his sobs eventually softened to shallow breaths, and then to silence. Tommy never letting go.
He just adjusted slightly, letting Buck rest heavier against him, tucking him in without a word. Buck’s hands stayed curled into the fabric of Tommy’s shirt, holding on like he didn’t trust the world not to shift under him again. And Tommy let him.
Buck’s breathing began to even out, though his face was still damp, eyes swollen and red. His cheek rested against Tommy’s shoulder, his body limp with the exhaustion that always followed that kind of collapse. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t trying to hold it all together.
After a few minutes, Buck shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to meet Tommy’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, voice still ragged but steadier now. “For...” He trailed off.
How was he supposed to explain it? That Tommy’s words had settled something in him he hadn’t realized was still fraying. That the way Tommy held him hadn’t made him feel weak, but safe. That it had been so long since anyone had made him feel like he didn’t have to apologize for falling apart.
“For everything,” he finally said, voice soft. A quiet smile flickered across his lips as their eyes met.
Tommy’s expression gentled even more. “Evan, you don’t have to thank me for being here,” he said simply. “It means everything to me that you let me.”
Buck blinked at that, like the words had caught him off guard, but he didn’t look away.
“I don’t know what this is,” he admitted quietly. “Us. I’m not even sure where I stand with myself right now, let alone with you.”
“I know,” Tommy said. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. We both have a lot to say, a lot to work through. But maybe we can at least agree we want to try, to see if there’s a way back to each other.”
That, more than any promise, eased something deep in Buck’s chest.
“Yeah,” Buck said softly. “I want that too.”
“We’ll take it slow. As slow as we need to,” Tommy added. “I don’t want to mess this up again.”
Buck nodded. “I like the sound of that.” He lifted a hand, gently cupping the side of Tommy’s face. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and there’s hurt we still have to work through. But you have to know…there was something about you I just couldn’t let go of. I didn’t want to. Even when everyone told me to move on.”
“I didn’t want to let go of you either,” Tommy said quietly, honestly.
Buck leaned in, forehead resting against Tommy’s, eyes closed. “I’m kind of gone for you, Tommy Kinard.”
Tommy huffed a soft laugh, his smile brushing against Buck’s. “I’m kinda gone for you too, Evan Buckley.”