#buddie lawsuit era | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

schrijverr · 3 months ago

Text

Who to Call When You’re on the Edge?

Buck feels all alone in the middle of the lawsuit with no one to talk to. Wanting to do something stupid, he tries to stop himself by calling Christopher – just to hear him talk about his day – hoping it’ll make it stop. Instead, Eddie overhears and Buck still gets hurt, but he’s not as alone as he thinks.

On AO3.

Ships: pre-slash Buddie

Warnings: self-harm, depression, PTSD and self-loathing

~~~

Buck can’t sleep after the tsunami. At first he could, he was knocked out for fourteen hours after he got home from that nightmare, ensured that everyone was okay and exhausted both mentally and physically. Then he kept himself going. Moved on, got in shape to go back to work. But that never happened.

Now he’s in the middle of a lawsuit that has spiraled out of control so fast he doesn’t know exactly how he got into the mess. All he does know is that if he calls 911, they won’t answer.

The team has frozen him out and they’re right to do it. Sure, they’re not allowed to talk to him due to the lawsuit, but none of them have tried. None of them make an effort. Even Maddie, who is uninvolved, keeps being around Chimney, making it impossible for Buck to show up. And the times he has seen someone of the 118, they’ve been cold.

All he wants is his job back, his team back. He just wants to help, to be useful. To drive on that truck with them and make a difference. Have his family back.

But Bobby thinks he can’t do it and the others clearly agree. Eddie, his best friend, agrees. He picked a side and is clear about it.

Buck can’t blame him. He couldn’t believe Eddie would let him near Christopher again after that tsunami, after he lost him. And it only took Cap pointing out that Buck isn’t qualified for him to rescind that trust and keep Christopher as far away from Buck as possible.

The worst part is that Buck understands. He also wouldn’t want him to be around Christopher, but selfishly, he wishes Eddie wouldn’t have realized that. Because having the kid around helped. It helped so much.

Seeing him practically every day while he recovered assured him that Christopher was alright, that his nightmares aren’t real and he didn’t fail Christopher as much as he did. Made it so he knew the kid was okay. Now he doesn’t have that and suddenly, he can’t sleep anymore.

He’s exhausted. He stayed up all night, because sleeping scares him. He couldn’t manage to hold on when 5:00 hit, but it’s 7:00 now and he’s in bed gasping for air after waking up from a horrible nightmare.

Losing Christopher that day was the worst moment of it. Just hearing that splash and turning around to find him gone. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that.

With shaky legs he gets out of bed and pads down the stairs, slumping over his kitchen table after filling a glass of water, flinching at the sound the tap makes. He sips at it for a bit, then abandons that to stare into it for god knows how long.

Buck is tired. He’s tired and worried and scared and alone. And he doesn’t want to be any of it.

Just a few weeks ago, he had it all. A team that flocked around him, that cared for him like family does. His sister, who he could drop by unannounced whenever he pleased, instead of being stuck sending cards that never got replied to. Working his way back to a job he loved.

And now that’s gone and Buck is doing everything he can to get it back, but it just isn’t working and all he tries only seems to break it more.

He sighs deeply, tearing his eyes away from his glass to drift around his empty apartment. When he was still in his cast, someone would come by every day to see if he was doing okay. That seems so far removed now.

His eyes land on the knife block that is standing there. Picked out by Allie, but never really used, bar that one time Bobby came over to cook.

Buck can take it, cut into his finger, say it was a cooking accident. His team might come see him in the hospital if he does that. Maddie might worry. If he says he wanted to learn how to cook, since take out was getting old, maybe Bobby will come over again and teach him.

But just a little cut won’t do, he thinks, slowly moving closer to the knives. He’s a firefighter, he knows that is not really bad enough to truly land in the hospital. He can say he slipped, cut close to his wrist, that he thinks he missed a major artery, but that he’s on blood thinners. That would definitely get him hospitalized.

However, he knows the risks in that. He might have watched Hen and Chim a thousand times, but he doesn’t fully trust himself not to hit something too important, plus he has no clue how the blood thinners might affect everything. Despite what it sounds like, he doesn’t actually want to die, just wants a reason for his family to care again. If they’re still his family that is.

He slips out one of the knives and studies it. He grabbed one of the shorter ones, one that wouldn’t run him through completely and one he might realistically grab if he were to try cooking.

If he takes a second, he’s sure he can create a scene where a slip might have occurred, a fall that got the knife lodged in his leg. That way he can keep it in until he paramedics come and he won’t be able to walk, so he’ll definitely get carted off to the hospital and they’ll call Maddie or Bobby and they’ll come. They must come. Right?

Buck can just stab himself in the leg and then they’ll care again.

However, a small voice can’t help but whisper: But what if they don’t? What if they don’t care? What if no one comes? What if all you do is set back your case and you’ll never get back to work? What if they take this as a sign you’re not up for it?

He can’t allow that to happen. He needs that job. He needs to help. He needs to matter.

Fuck, all he wants to do is matter to someone. To matter to his team. But instead he’s here, feeling sad for himself, pathetically planning an elaborate scene just to know that someone is still out there, that someone still cares.

He thinks of Christopher again. How happy he still is despite all the bad news, after all that has happened to him. He never lets it get to him, never feels sorry for himself like Buck does. God, the kid is so smart, so good. Way too good for Buck to ever be actual friends with.

Still, Christopher doesn’t think that. Christopher thinks Buck saved him during that tsunami. That he is okay, because of Buck’s actions. Christopher still cares about him. Christopher might know what to say to get this stupid plan out of his head.

With the knife still in his hand, he makes his way over to his oven. The clock informs him it is 10:30. He has been pitying himself for over three hours now.

It’s also nearly Christopher’s break at school. He knows Eddie always checks he has his phone on him, before dropping him off, witnessed it a dozen times himself. It’s nearly the early break. He can just call Christopher, hear his voice, remind himself that he’s okay and that Buck did that, that he can do it again in the future. That Christopher cares. No one has to know.

He makes his way back to the kitchen table where he left his phone. He drops down in the chair and puts the knife next to him on the table, before grabbing his phone.

Buck stares at the contact for a few minutes, debating if he should really do this. Before he can talk himself out of it, he clicks it, watching the phone ring as he puts in back on the table and on speaker, holding his breath and biting his thumb nervously.

The phone rings and rings.

Needing something to do, he grabs the knife. He clutches it tightly, before relaxing his grip, letting his finger run along it, pressing to feel if it’s sharp. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to be able to feel it.

“Buck?” Christopher greets him, sounding both excited yet as if he doesn’t know if it’s actually happening. Buck hates that he let him down like that. Again.

“Hey, buddy,” he smiles instead, hoping the regret and self loathing doesn’t show in his voice. “How are you doing? Good day?”

“Yeah, why are you calling?” Christopher asks.

“Just wanted to know how you’ve been doing. I know I’ve been busy and I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner,” Buck says, lump in his throat. He clears it and continues: “I just wanted to check up on you, you know. What have you been up to at school?”

That is clearly enough explanation for Christopher, because he starts talking about what they’ve been doing and how his classes are going, while Buck makes all the right noises to make him keep going. Keep talking.

He doesn’t know why, but there are tears in his eyes and he feels a little like he’s choking. He holds the knife with two hands, resting his head against the back of it as his knees prop up his arms. Like some fucked up kind of prayer.

Buck knows that soon Christopher will be gone again. The break will be over or a teacher will spot him and tell him to stop. Buck doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if that happens. If he’ll go through with the plan or if Christopher’s talking will be enough to make that empty feeling go away, but for now, this is good.

Naturally, neither happens, because the universe is out to get him. Christopher cuts himself off mid sentence and Buck can hear Eddie asks: “Who’re you talking to?”

“Buck,” Christopher answers happily.

The second Buck hears Eddie’s voice he starts cursing. How is he there? Is there like a field trip he’s helping on? Is Christopher sick and staying home? He didn’t mention anything like that. Fuck, what day is it even?

None of that matters. What matters is that Buck can’t face Eddie. He can’t handle his best friend being mad at him for talking to Christopher. He needs to hang up as soon as possible, he can explain to Christopher later why he didn’t say goodbye properly.

In his fumble to hang up, he drops the knife. It nicks his thigh, then slices down his calf, before clattering on the floor. Blood starts dripping out and Buck presses what he hopes is the right button, before putting pressure on it.

As it turns out, it was not the right button, because, as Buck realized before; the universe hates him, it hates him so very much.

“What the hell are you doing? Calling Christoper like that?” Eddie’s demand comes over the phone, right as Buck smashes his head into the table in an attempt to reach for his leg.

“Fucking ouch,” Buck curses, before he gets his hands on his calf. The long slash is bleeding the most and he doesn’t have enough hands for both the phone and his wound. It’s probably going to need stitches. Seems like the universe made his choice for him.

“Buck? Are you okay, man? What’s happening?” Eddie asks and normally it’s great that Eddie worries, that he cares if Buck is okay. However, Buck wants him to worry about him because of something that is not this.

Panicking slightly he says: “Oh, uhm, yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Just, uh… Just cut myself accidentally. I was cooking.”

“Since when do you cook?” Eddie asks, good to know that wouldn’t have worked.

“Since today,” Buck lies. “Wanted to try something new. It’s just a nick. I’m going to hang up now, sorry for calling Christopher. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re on blood thinners, Buck. You sure it’s okay?” Eddie asks and Buck feels a warmth blooming in his chest at how quick Eddie forgot about being mad in favor of being worried.

“Yeah, just a stitch or two,” he undersells it. This conversation will keep him going for a long while, he just has to get out of it now.

Bad thing to say, apparently, because Eddie’s voice is an octave higher when he speaks again. “You need stitches?”

“Not a lot.”

“That’s still not good. Call 911.”

“No, man! Everyone’s still recovering from that tsunami, hospitals are crowded. It’s not that bad,” Buck says, watching as more and more blood leaks on the floor. That doesn’t seem very good, he’ll have to get moving soon.

“They can make time for a few stitches,” Eddie argues.

“I can do it myself,” Buck argues right back.

“Do you even know how to?”

“Yeah, man, it’s stitches. Did it for others, can’t be that hard to do it for myself.”

“Okay, that’s it. Don’t do anything, especially not anything stupid. I’m coming over.”

“Wait, no-” It’s too late, Eddie has already hung up. With wide eyes Buck looks around his apartment. It doesn’t look like he’s been cooking, he’s not sure he even has groceries. Besides, the blood is very clearly not at a counter where he would have been cooking and it’s a lot worse than he made it seem.

He needs to do damage control, right now.

Buck pushes himself out of the chair, hobbling over to the kitchen to grab a towel, which he binds around his leg.

With that done, he moves to the fridge, which is indeed sadly empty. There is some moldy take out, some eggs that are probably bad and an onion. Onion will have to do. He snatches a cutting board and hurries back to the table, slicing the onion in half and leaving the knife back on the floor.

He is about to do something with his leg so Eddie won’t worry and it’ll appear like he’s actually responding as a first responder should when Eddie is already coming in. The lock clicks open easily, since Buck gave him a key. He’s still kinda surprised the man kept it after Buck screwed everything up.

Eddie is carrying medical gear, probably assumed Buck would be under prepared. Buck is a little ashamed to say he is. He usually keeps a good first aid kit, but he hasn’t restocked it yet. Didn’t see the need, since he’s not out in the field and coming home with scrapes.

There is no Christopher in tow, something Buck is only mildly grateful for when he sees Eddie pale before rushing to his side. “What the hell, man! You said you nicked yourself, that’s a long cut.”

“I might have undersold it a little.”

“A little?” Eddie shrieks as he slides to his knees next to Buck and starts out taking supplies.

“Now a bad time to mention it hit my thigh too?” Buck grimaces, not from the pain, but the embarrassment.

“What even happened?” Eddie asks.

“I dropped the knife, that’s all,” Buck shrugs, trying not to give any details if he can help it.

“I’m calling 911.”

“No!” It comes out harsher than Buck would have liked, but it’s too late now. He clears his throat and in a calmer voice he repeats: “No. It’s okay. I’m okay. No 911.”

“Buck,” Eddie looks at him intently, frown appearing on his forehead. “You’re on blood thinners, you have a long cut that needs stitches and a smaller wound that needs stitches too. You’ve been bleeding for a while now already. You need a hospital.”

“What’s a hospital going to do?” Buck scoffs. “Stitch me up? You can do that.”

“They will also give you blood, idiot. You’ve lost a lot of it already,” Eddie replies, already giving him a local anesthetic, so he can start to stitch him up.

“I’m not loosing consciousness,” Buck argues. “And a hospital has records. The 911 call has records. I don’t want this stupid accident to impact my case.”

Eddie actually pauses for a second to look up at him. His face looks disbelieving, judgmental, confused and worried all in one. “Really?” he asks. “You’re bleeding out and you’re worried about your stupid case?”

“Yes!” Buck explodes. “That case isn’t stupid to me. I want my job back. I need my job back. Work means everything to me.”

“You’d rather bleed out than maybe impact your case?” Eddie says, obviously having an opinion about it, but continuing to work.

Angrily, Buck says: “Yes, okay. Yes. I’d rather you let me bleed out here, right now, then have another thing Bobby can use against me to not give me my job back. So stitch me up or just leave and I’ll do it myself. I survived a tsunami, I’m not going to break.”

If he’d had to describe it, he’d say it looks like Eddie has been slapped in the face by those words, which was the opposite of the plan. His eyes flick over to the knife, then Buck, then the onion, then the trail of blood to the kitchen, the knife again, then Buck again. Fucking shit, this going south too quickly.

Trying to end whatever thoughts Eddie is having and get them onto another topic, he clears his throat. Then he says: “Just stitch, man.”

For a second, it seems like Eddie is going to argue with him some more, but then he takes a deep breath and turns his professionalism nob on. They all do it, they all have it. Eddie right now isn’t on the job, just going to help a friend – something that would make Buck happier in different circumstances – and Eddie has been acting like it. Like a friend. Just now, he stopped doing it.

Eddie works silently and efficiently, not having a colleague to banter with. He finishes up Buck’s stitches on his calf, checks the thigh wound, which is luckily shallower than it could have been since the knife caught in the fabric for the most part. He fixes that up too, while he makes Buck take his own blood pressure, only upside from having a first responder as a patient.

When Buck informs him of his blood pressure, Eddie takes another deep breath. He puts the final bandages in place, then looks at Buck, studying him critically.

Involuntarily, Buck straightens up. He isn’t sure if it’s him trying to appear less blood loss-y than he is or if it’s just the response to Eddie’s gaze he always has. That need to appear cool, likable, put together.

“Alright,” Eddie finally breaks the silence, “no hospital. But only if you come home with me.”

A plethora of feelings go through Buck at that sentence, however, nothing he can identify stands out, except for good. Positive. It scares him a little. After the sudden ice bucket of these past few weeks, he can’t help but mistrust the gesture, no matter how much he wants to take it.

After a beat of silence from Buck that is too long for Eddie, he adds: “Promise I’ll keep it a secret so it won’t impact your case. Just come with me, so I can keep an eye on you. I’ll only call 911 if you pass out on me.” As extra enticement, he adds: “Christopher has been looking forward to your next visit, so he can kick your ass again with that game of his.”

An involuntary smile comes on Buck’s face at the mention of Christopher. That kid is his world and talking on the phone was good, but seeing him in person? That’ll be even greater. “Pinky promise?” he still asks, holding out his pinky.

“Really?”

“Come on, I know you want to,” Buck says, wiggling his pinky.

Eddie sighs, rolls his eyes and pinky promises.

“That’s the spirit!” Buck exclaims happily. He can almost pretend it feels like the old times. Not wanting to get stuck in that thought loop, he claps Eddie on the back and grins: “Come on, man, help me up. I’m injured over here.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie mutters under his breath as he helps him up, but it sounds fondly.

The two of them try keep up their usual chatter as they make their way to the car, though it’s a little stilted due to the lawsuit and Buck not being with them at work. So, they quiet down in the car.

It’s not until halfway through the drive that Eddie breaks that silence and asks: “So, what were you calling Christopher about anyway? He your witness?”

“Nah, man. No, of course not, I wouldn’t do something like that. Not to the two of you. Especially not behind your back,” Buck assures Eddie immediately. He cherishes the role he has in Christopher’s life so much, he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.

Eddie shoots him a weird look. “I know that, Buck. Just asking.”

“Oh, yeah. Course,” Buck says awkwardly. “I wanted to check in with him, you know. See how he was doing. Also…” he contemplates not saying this part, not admitting to something so pathetic, but it’s not like Eddie doesn’t know he’s pathetic already, no matter how much he wants to hide it.

“Also?” Eddie prompts.

“It’s embarrassing,” Buck chuckles humorlessly, “but without being allowed to talk to any of you, I don’t really have other friends to call. Chris was the only one available. Since it was his break and all when I called.” To wave away that mess, he quickly says: “Speaking off. Why isn’t Christoper at school today?”

“Buck. It’s Saturday.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Look, are you good?” Eddie asks, his beautiful face – beautiful, what the hell, where did that come from? – now marred by a frown. “Cause I can still take you to the hospital.”

“No, hospital,” Buck glares at him. “I swear, I’m running if you pull up in that parking lot. I don’t care if it’s a hobble.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Eddie points out sharply.

“Sorry, what question?” Buck plays dumb, the one thing he’s good at.

“Are you good? Like, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m good,” Buck forces a laugh.

“Really?” Eddie asks, tone saying he doesn’t believe him. “Because I didn’t see anything in your kitchen except that onion and that knife.”

“There was also a cutting board.”

“Fine and the cutting board,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying, it didn’t look like you were cooking anything.”

“Oh like you would know, Mr. Burns Water. I was just starting with the onion.”

“I still don’t know if that’s how you cook.”

“Starting with an onion is important, ask Bobby. Besides, I never said I was a chef.”

“Fine, fine,” Eddie says, smile tugging at his lips. Buck is about to let out a small sigh of relief when that suddenly drops. They’ve pulled into Eddie’s driveway and the man turns at him, staring at him with those soulful eyes that are filled with concern: “All I’m saying, is that I’m here for you, if you do need to talk.”

“And I appreciate that, but I’m fine, I swear,” Buck lies, before finding his distraction. “Now, I see Christopher waiting to kick my ass. So I’m going to see my favorite Diaz until you stop being a mother hen. That’s not even your job, we’re the two reckless ones.”

“Alright,” Eddie smiles again, before he makes a big play out of being offended: “And how dare you, I should be your favorite Diaz.”

“Tsk, like you’ll ever have anything on my main man,” Buck says, throwing the door open as he does and speaking loudly so Christopher can overhear it.

“Buck!” Christoper exclaims excitedly and Buck returns it with the same enthusiasm. Fuck, he missed this. Missed this kid.

“Hey, you don’t need help walking there?” Eddie asks, having followed him out of the car.

Standing does hurt a little, but he doesn’t want Christopher to worry. Besides, it barely registers. He looks down for a second, then sends Eddie his most convincing grin: “Nah, man. Like I said, I’m fine.”

Then he flees inside where Christopher can act as a human shield for whatever other emotion filled conversation Eddie wants to have with him.

Buck isn’t sure what Eddie is thinking, probably won’t like it either. Sure, he wants people to worry, but he doesn’t want that to last. Just wants to worry them enough to show up, then they need to stop worrying, so he doesn’t become a burden. Eddie has worried enough, now Buck needs him to stop.

He doesn’t even know why Eddie of all people wants to have these conversations. They talk a lot, yeah, especially about the important stuff, but they also joke around, keep it light. And recently, they don’t talk at all.

It seems as if Eddie has done a complete one-eighty. Again. First he trusted Buck with Christopher even after losing him, then he didn’t want to speak with Buck at all, and now he’s forcing him into his home so he can keep an eye on him? It doesn’t make sense.

Buck doesn’t understand what buttons to push to make Eddie stay and which ones made him leave. He’s going to have to figure that out soon, because he wants to keep pushing the buttons that make Eddie stay. He can’t imagine what his life will be like if he permanently drives Eddie away.

Luckily, Christopher is the human shield Buck hoped he’d be and Eddie doesn’t start any more conversations. It also feels amazing to hang out with his friend again (and he doesn’t just mean Christopher). He needed this.

For weeks now, he’s felt useless, unneeded. Unloved. He’s been alone and being alone is dangerous when your mind works like Buck’s does. Today proved that much. However, because of who he is, this right here, bounces him right back.

Everything doesn’t catch back up with him until Christopher is put to bed and it’s just him and Eddie again.

Eddie comes back from putting Christopher down and plops down on the couch next to him. Buck expects him to turn on the TV or something like they usually do, but instead Eddie turns towards him and says: “Let me see your leg.”

“Come on, man, you know my bandages don’t need to be changed yet. You did them yourself, you know they’re good,” Buck complains, but complies anyway.

“I know,” Eddie answers as he inspects Buck’s leg carefully. “Just making sure you didn’t do anything idiotic and popped your stitches.”

“Eddie, I played video games on the couch with Chris, what could I have done?” Buck deadpans, a little annoyed, but also touched by the concern.

“I know,” Eddie says again, satisfied with his findings. Then he looks up at Buck with emotion filled eyes that Buck hates, because he did that to Eddie. “Just… every time I look away for a second, you seem to get hurt.”

Buck can feel his own eyes soften at that, bumping his shoulder and letting his leg rest across Eddie’s lap. “Hey, I’m okay, man. I swear. Just an accident.”

It doesn’t seem like Eddie believes him entirely, breaking the eye contact to look at the bandages again, probably remembering the wound underneath them. Buck is kinda glad he didn’t settle on stabbing himself in the leg, but that it was a genuine accident, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to explain it to Eddie otherwise. Or any of the others. Though mostly Eddie.

However, it is an accident and Eddie thankfully doesn’t want to fight Buck, because he looks back and smiles: “Yeah, okay. I’m just worried. Protective maybe.”

“Protective?” Buck repeats with faux-put upon-ness, grin firmly in place as he ignores the thrill that sends through him. “You are the one that needs protecting.”

“Oh really now?” Eddie grins back. “I think you got that turned upside down, Mr. Accident Prone. I am gonna keep my eye on you from now on.”

“God, I try to cook once and I never hear the end of it,” Buck groans, though it’s lighthearted.

“Next time, try cooking with supervision. I’m sure Bobby will be happy to teach you when you get your job back,” Eddie says, making sure to look Buck in the eye when he does.

It doesn’t escape Buck’s notice that he used when, not if. Maybe he finally has someone on his side again. Someone that gets it. Even if it’s just a little bit. Having that means the world to Buck, but he doesn’t know how to say that, not without it becoming a conversation again. And he desperately just wants to have this moment without it becoming a conversation.

Luckily, Eddie is on the same page about it, because he gently lowers Buck’s leg, before clapping him on the shoulder. “Let me get some sheets and a pillow so we can get you set up on the couch. I have a shift tomorrow, but I’m sure Christopher and Carla won’t mind the company.”

“Yeah, man, thanks,” Buck says, so grateful that Eddie isn’t kicking him out tomorrow, but letting him have this for a little while longer.

Buck can’t sleep after the tsunami. At least, not at home. At first he tried to push through, trying anything he could think off to get the rest he needed. Then he just gave up on sleep all together. However, here on the Diaz couch, with nothing else but the sounds of the house settling and the other two occupants being there, he sleeps soundly.

Now, he’s still in the middle of a lawsuit that has spiraled out of control so fast he doesn’t know exactly how he got into the mess. All he does know that when there is a mess he can call and Eddie will answer.

A/N:

I contemplated having Buck open up, but it didn’t feel in character, but I do think Eddie knows a little more than Buck might want him to and he was serious about keeping an eye on Buck, hope that came across from Buck’s POV :D

8 notes · View notes