A Family at Your Side
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!paramedic!fem!Buckley!reader
Summary: You, Evan Buckley's sister, are a paramedic with the 118. When you're called to a fire, it quickly becomes a crime scene when someone opens fire on you. Your boyfriend Tim Bradford and your fire station family have to work together to save you.
Warnings: angst, fluff, injuries (r is shot), depiction of arson/shooting, lots of teasing. [While r is Evan's sister, I don't put anything specific in here past some teasing, so it could be viewed as adoptive or some other relationship dynamic!]
Word Count: 2.6k+ words
A/N: I've only seen a few episodes of 911 (season 1), so I hope my characterization of them isn't completely terrible. I really like this dynamic though; it's so fun and complex!!
Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List
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“There’s no escape,” you whisper under your breath, desperately wishing for some relief.
“Oh, c’mon, we’re not that bad,” Buck replies, knocking his fist against your shoulder. “We’re better than the cop.”
“In every way!” Hen adds, smiling at you. “Why you started dating him is one of the two things I will never understand about you.”
“What’s the other?” you ask.
“How you-“ she turns to point to Buck as she continues, “and him are related. He can’t shut up and you can’t make eye contact.”
“I got all the good genes,” Buck explains, smiling.
“Yet none of the smarts,” Hen argues, pressing her lips together as she tilts her head.
“Or looks,” Nash calls from his place in the kitchen. “Now if you’re done bothering her, can someone set the table?”
You stand to help, and Nash points a spatula at you as he says, “Not you. You do it all the time. Make your brother do something for once.”
“She has no power over me!” Buck yells dramatically. “I have leverage. Like that time she-“
Chimney hits the back of his head, telling him to stop, as your chin drops to your chest. The alarm goes off before you can wonder which embarrassing story he was planning to use, and as you rush to the ambulance with Hen, you’re glad Chimney stopped him. Their attention was bad enough without him divulging your personal information.
✯✯✯✯✯
“This is a suspected arson, meets the MO of a few previous fires. We need that fire out before the police get here so they can get in,” Nash announces.
“Anyone inside?” Hen asks.
As Nash answers, someone screams in pain, and you look at Nash. He hesitates before nodding, and you grab your bag before running into the clear side of the duplex.
“Los Angeles Fire and Rescue,” you call. “Is anyone in here?”
“Yes! I need help!” a man yells from the back of the dwelling.
Rushing through, you radio to the rest of the 118 that you’re looking for an injured resident.
“We can’t get the fire under control,” Buck answers, his voice tight. “You need to get out of there.”
“I see him. Keep trying, Buck. Sir, are you injured?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he answers shakily. “I smelled the smoke and- and I have asthma, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, and I was scared to leave.”
“Okay, take a deep breath, sir. I’m a paramedic, so I’m going to get you out of here and then we’ll make sure your airways are clear. Do you understand?”
He nods but refuses when you gesture for him to stand.
“It’s on fire!” he argues.
“Sir, we have a clear track to the front door, but the fire will spread with the Santa Anas blowing outside, so we need to go now,” you explain.
Something crashes outside, and you pull the man to his feet.
“Get out of there! If I don’t see you in ten seconds, I’m coming in after you,” Buck radios.
“We’re coming, Buck,” you answer, pulling the man along.
More sirens become audible as you reach the door, the fire much closer to the front of the building. Several police cars approach, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The man stops, and you turn toward him quickly.
“Sir, we’re almost there,” you remind him, pointing to the ambulance.
“He’s still out here!”
“Who?” you ask, your voice quieting again as the adrenaline wears off.
“The man who set the fire!”
You freeze, a sudden cold rush contrasting the heat from the fire.
“Where is he?”
“I- I don’t know.”
A shot rings through the air, and you drop to the small porch, pulling the man behind the railing beside you. The fire is moving toward you, but with no idea of where that shot came from, you can’t move and risk your life and this man’s.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Everybody down!” Nash yells, ducking behind the truck.
“7-Adam-19, shots fired at my location. LAFD 118 and LAPD in need of backup, dispatch air support for possible sniper,” Tim calls, kneeling behind his shop before rushing to the fire truck.
“She’s still up there,” Buck calls, squatting behind the ambulance with Hen.
“Who?”
Buck and Nash look at each other and then Tim, and he immediately knows they’re talking about you.
“Backup is on the way, but we can’t do anything yet,” Tim explains.
“Bradford, the fire is spreading, we can’t stop it with this wind!” Nash adds.
“Or a sniper taking shots at us!” Buck yells. He drops his head to his radio to ask, “Sis, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“Bradford and Thorsen are here, they called for backup but we can’t do anything until-“
Another shot cuts him off, and you move back against the railing.
“Talk to me!” Buck yells into his receiver.
“I’m okay, Buck,” you reply quietly. “Our- uh- our guy passed out after working himself up, so…”
“He’s not our primary concern right now,” Buck responds.
“Careful,” you warn, your voice nearly inaudible.
“No, I happen to agree,” Nash adds to the conversation.
Tim pulls Chimney’s radio from his chest to say, “I do too. You take care of you, and we’ll worry about him when we can get up there.”
The radio stays quiet, and Tim looks around the end of the truck. He can’t see you, but knowing you’re out of sight and safe makes him feel better.
“Uh, Tim?” Aaron asks. “Eyes on our shooter.”
Tim turns quickly, looking up. He sees the end of the rifle, and when it lowers suddenly, he doesn’t think before yelling at you.
“Stay down!” he screams.
You drop lower, your face to the concrete as the shooter releases several rounds, making a line of bullet holes across the front of the duplex. The fire is moving slowly, but it’s still closing in on your hiding place.
The cold feeling hasn’t gone away, and as you look at the unconscious man at your side, you can only hope to make it out alive.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Where is your backup?” Buck asks Tim, leaning forward to look past Hen.
“Still a minute out. Aaron and I are going to go through that building, find a way to the roof,” Tim answers.
“Be careful. We all care about the woman stuck back there,” Nash reminds him.
Aaron and Tim nod before moving between the shop and the fire truck, rushing to the main entrance and entering quietly.
“Go left, I’ll go right,” Tim whispers.
As they move up the stairs, Tim hears their backup and the airship approaching. He hopes that the shooter doesn’t do anything stupid when he sees the police and gestures for Aaron to go faster.
“LAPD, put the weapon down!” an officer demands over the speaker of the airship.
“Thorsen, go!” Tim yells, kicking the door open to walk onto the roof.
The man turns the rifle up, shooting toward the helicopter before it moves. Aaron and Tim approach from different sides, and when the gun suddenly drops and the man begins emptying his ammunition toward you, Tim doesn’t hesitate to shoot.
“7-Adam-19, suspect is down,” Aaron radios. “Tim, go get her.”
Nodding, Tim stands, rushing down the stairs and out into the road. The fire has worsened, and the 118 is still in place.
Evan sees Tim and clenches his jaw, stepping toward Tim to yell, “This is your fault! It’s all on you!”
Tim’s brows furrow, looking to Nash for more information.
“She’s, uh- she’s not responding to the radio calls, and we can’t get up there until we get part of the fire out, enough to get through with our gear,” Nash explains.
“You should have brought enough backup to begin with or gone up there sooner!” Buck continues.
“You think I don’t know that?” Tim snaps. “But she was already stuck when I got here, so work on getting to her and getting her safe, and then you can get mad at me!”
“And if it’s too late?” Buck demands, his chest heaving in anger.
Tim looks away, and Buck moves forward quickly, causing Nash and Chimney to lunge forward and hold him back.
“I’ll kill you if we’re too late!”
“Buck!” Tim yells, walking to him. “I know this is my fault and if she doesn’t make it, her blood is on my hands. I’m sorry, I really am, but there is nothing I can do now except keep people back so you can get this fire out and find out if- and make sure she is okay.”
Buck relaxes slightly, pushing Chimney and Nash off of him.
“Let’s get her out!” Nash calls, directing everyone to their positions.
✯✯✯✯✯
The man beside you groans as you tug him further against the wall. You’re caged in against the fire, and you dropped your radio, watching it burn as you kept your head down.
When water sprays onto your face, a steady stream coming from the street, you force a smile, hoping to get out, get warm, and hug your brother and Tim for as long as you can before they make you shy away from them. You love them for it, you remember, reminding yourself to think happy thoughts.
“Where’s the ambulance?” the man slurs before coughing.
“Just a minute, sir, keep your head down and breathe.”
The fire is driven back by two hoses, and when several feet are clear on the side of the railing, people begin yelling.
“Sis! Can you hear me?” Buck asks loudly, appearing in his turnout gear a moment later.
“Get him to the ambulance,” you reply, standing shakily as he pulls the man over his shoulder.
You walk into the small yard, looking for Tim. The persistent cold feeling is just beginning to concern you, and when you grow dizzy and stop in the yard, you realize that something is wrong. Raising your hands to press against your stomach, you begin to run through a mental list of potential injuries.
“Hey, hey, gorgeous, c’mon, we got to get back,” Tim calls as he jogs to your side. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, ducking away from his hands on your face.
“Good,” Tim replies, laying his hand on your upper back and directing you to the curb.
“You got lucky,” Buck grumbles, joining your other side across from Tim.
“We all did our jobs, Buck, she’s safe, just leave it,” Tim says lowly.
“No thanks to you!” Buck responds, stepping forward.
You recognize the look in his eyes, an anger he seems to reserve for you. Without thinking, you move a hand from your navel and push it against Buck’s chest to stop him. He and Tim look at your bloody hand before yelling your name as you tip back.
Buck catches you, lowering you onto the grass as he rips your shirt open.
“Hen!” he screams, a pained, guttural sound that draws the attention of the entire 118.
Hen sees you on the ground, unconscious between Buck and Tim, and rushes to you, her bag thrown over her shoulder.
“GSW,” she decides quickly, looking at your stomach, a mess of tattered fabric and blood. “Roll her over, carefully.”
Tim keeps his hands on your side, helping Buck tip you onto one side as Hen runs her hand down your spine.
“No exit wound, we need to go. Now.”
Leaning back, Tim gives Buck room to lift you, running to the ambulance as fast as possible.
“Are you coming?” he yells, raising his arms as he looks at Tim.
“Go!” Nash, Chimney, Aaron, and newly arrived Nolan yell.
Tim nods, rushing into the ambulance and sitting as it lurches into motion.
“I didn’t mean it,” Buck says, looking at you while he speaks to Tim. “It’s not your fault, but I can’t- I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t. We won’t,” Tim promises.
Hen works quickly, muttering under her breath about needing your help.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you open your eyes, you first notice the unmistakable feeling of someone looking at you and touching your side, a gentle touch as fingers drag up and down your skin.
“Is he okay?” you ask, blinking against the harsh light above you.
“The man from the duplex?” Buck asks. “Yeah, he’s fine. Had an asthma attack and then a few panic attacks, but he’s good. You- you got shot and didn’t tell anyone.”
Tipping your head down, you’re surprised he’s standing at the end of your bed. This means the fingers on your exposed side belong to…
“Tim,” you whisper, glancing at him.
“You scared us, baby,” he replies softly, spreading his warm hand over your skin.
He smiles when your muscles tense beneath him, but it quickly disappears when you groan in pain.
“I didn’t mean not to tell you,” you say quietly, pinching the blanket between your fingers. “I didn’t know I got shot.”
“That’s kinda- that’s pretty epic, really,” Buck says, laying his hand on your foot. “Makes a good party story.”
“I don’t go to parties,” you grumble.
“I mean for me,” he replies happily.
“Are you two fighting?” you ask, looking between them.
“No,” they answer together, both squeezing you reassuringly.
“We were scared and upset, didn’t have anywhere else to take it out,” Buck explains with a shrug. “He’s just lucky you stopped me from hitting him. I would’ve removed him from active duty for six weeks minimum.”
“You wish,” Tim scoffs.
“Stop,” you say, chuckling when they look shocked at your bold demand. “Please.”
“You were in surgery for a long time,” Tim tells you. “How’s your pain?”
“It’s fine, manageable. I mean, I can feel it now, but it’s not too bad.”
You glance down, your brows furrowing as you realize why you could feel Tim’s skin directly on yours.
“Wondering where your hospital gown is?” Tim asks, a smile you know all too well on his face. “I put in a special request.”
“Gross. That’s my sister,” Buck interjects. When you look at him with wide eyes, he sighs and fills you in: “They couldn’t get to your stomach well enough with one on. If you want to cover up, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
“It’s okay,” you reply, gently tugging the band of your sports bra down.
“More than okay,” Tim says, quiet enough that Buck can’t hear.
You look away quickly, and Buck makes a ‘tsk’ sound.
“The shooter is in custody,” Tim says, giving you a break from his ‘abuse.’
“Will I have to testify or anything?” you whisper.
“No,” Tim and Buck answer together.
Buck pulls his phone from his pocket, nodding before shaking your ankle, his hand still resting on you.
“I have to go, we’ve got a call, but when we’re done, everyone wants to come by,” he says.
You nod. “Be careful. I love you.”
“Love you, sis!”
Looking at Tim’s chest rather than his face, he takes the chance to tease you. “Maybe you should get a shirt before your team gets here.”
“Get out,” you mumble. “Or give me yours.”
“Whoa! You get shot once and become a whole new person.”
“Wasn’t worth it.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Tim replies, taking your hand. “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything to keep it from happening.”
“’S not your fault.”
Turning your attention back to the blanket, Tim asks, “You get this shy with your patients?”
“No. But they’re not as pushy.”
“Hey,” Tim calls, using his hand to gently turn your chin toward him. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for being here through all of it.”
“Try to get rid of me.”
“I do. You never listen.”
Tim laughs, loud and happy, and you smile, turning your face into his arm where it holds your hand, glad he’s at your side, and you have a whole team, a family, to be with you through everything.
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