Chapter Text
Bode Donovan. That was the name he went by now. Not Bode Leone, not fourth generation Cal Fire, not the person that killed his own sister or his parents' biggest mistake, just plain old Bode Donovan. It had been hard when he first left Edgewater, California following his sister's death. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but when his dad told him to leave, that he never wanted to see him again, he knew it was what he had to do. He'd caused too much hurt to his family.
Hearing his father say he hated him was the most agonizing thing he'd ever heard from his father and even after his father saw him standing there, he never took it back, it made him want to be dead too, if only to escape this feeling of complete and utter devastation. So, after Riley's funeral, he left and bounced around the state for a while. Eventually, he changed his name to be sure nothing he did once he left got back to his parents, not that they would care as shown by his father banishing him and his mother not disputing it. What was the point of staying anyway? In their small town, he couldn't bear to hear the whispers he knew would follow him for the rest of his life, so he left. Left the devastation, left the whispering, left so his parents didn't have to look at the child that killed their favorite child.
He bounced around California for a while, taking odd jobs here and there. Still hearing the sound of his sister screaming his name in his dreams, never sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. For the first few months, he did this sober, but when he could no longer take the nightmares, he went back to what he knew, drugs. Started off with a little, but of course his tolerance made him have to take more and more to get any kind of rest. He drowned his days in pills and booze, how cliché, right. Kill his sister and develop a drug problem, of course. That went on for a few years, he was able to hide his drug problem until his boss noticed the signs he'd been trying so hard to hide. Even though he had a drug problem, he was a good worker, so his boss gave him a choice. Rehab or lose his job and be reported to the police. Although being in jail or prison felt like the right punishment for all of the hurt he’d caused, he couldn't quite allow himself to let it go that far, so to rehab he went.
It was hard, the detoxing. The shakes, the withdrawal, everything about it had him wanting to leave, which he could since he was there voluntarily, but then he would think of his beautiful sister who praised him for rising above his addiction last time he was in a similar situation and wanted to do this for her. So, he followed the program for the recommended 90 days, it was hell, but he got through it. The therapy sessions helped, he never would have gone on his own, even if he'd known he needed to. Going to therapy in Edgewater would have been like giving people something to whisper about and embarrassed his family, so he suffered through it any way he could after his injury. But being here, having a different last name, he didn't feel as much pressure as he would have if he had gone to therapy in his hometown. Even though it took weeks for him to actually say something in group and much longer to actually talk about his own experiences, he found it actually helped in a way he wasn't sure it would. Once he started talking and received the support he needed after that first step, he continued talking, never feeling judged, only overwhelming support. When his 90 days were up, he'd felt better than he had in years, not as good as before his injury, but definitely better than he had felt after.
He'd decided to stay and continue therapy with another therapist as he knew he was still an addict and that 90 days didn't change that. He worked construction which allowed him to be physical while also paying well. As the months went on, he felt something was missing from his life, a purpose you could say. He'd been in this place for about 9 months now and something was pulling at him inside. He didn't realize what it was until one day a fire started at the construction site and he'd known exactly what to do instinctively without prompting. It was then he began to consider applying for the fire department there. Of course, in the past he'd talked to his therapist about his past and his family's "legacy" at Cal Fire and how he never felt he deserved the legacy of it. With his new feelings of purpose, at his next appointment, he'd talked to his therapist about applying to the fire academy in town which his therapist had been able to talk him through his feelings and make sure this was what he wanted, not what his parents would have wanted. After thinking it over for a full two weeks, he decided to try his luck and apply at the fire academy in town. His name was legally changed so whether he made it in and through or not would depend on his and not his family name. A week after applying, he'd received news he'd made it in which caused mixed feelings because he wanted to call his parents, his best friends, his sister. But then he remembered, his parents hate him, he never said good bye to his best friends before leaving, and his sister was dead.
He'd started at the academy 3 weeks later. His construction job gave him the physicality for the training, growing up in a firehouse gave him the basic knowledge for the testing part of training as well as familiarity for some of the equipment. He made it through with flying colors and at the top of his training class and started at a station as a probie when training was finished. No one knew his real name or background and he never wanted them to since he was still in California, it could get back to his hometown. His year as a probationary firefighter was tough, but it was also more rewarding than he would have thought possible. It made him understand why the men in his family kept with the tradition. When his probationary year was over and he became an official member of the firehouse, it was the happiest he'd been in his life because for the first time, it was something he wanted, not something expected of him. Because he was happy, it showed in his work and people took notice. His instincts, his input, his being able to look at a situation and make a quick call were all commended and he moved up the ranks quicker than expected. He'd also started taking fire courses to get his Fire Science degree as well as became an official operator in his second year. He was finally getting to a place where he was feeling satisfied with his life again.