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“What am I supposed to do now?”
Buck doesn’t answer.
Eddie doesn’t know who he is without Chris.
Actually. He does. He does know. He’s been without Chris and he doesn’t want to be that person again.
Except this time it’s Chris that leaves. Chris went with his parents, looking back once, Eddie’s heart breaking at his feet. With Buck’s hand on his shoulder, his father’s admonishments ringing in his ears, and his son walking away, Eddie didn’t think there was much farther to fall.
Frank stares at him.
Eddie stares back.
“Eddie. I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”
Eddie says nothing.
A sigh. “Perhaps Buck—”
“No,” Eddie says immediately.
Buck is happy. Buck and Tommy, two of the best guys Eddie knows, are together and happy. Buck smiles more, lives more, and feels more comfortable in his skin.
Now that Cap’s out of hospital and recovering, everything as close to normal as it’s gonna get, Buck’s living for himself for the first time in—Eddie doesn’t even know.
What he does know is this; Buck can’t help, shouldn’t help.
Eddie can fix himself, can make this work without crawling to his best friend to help.
The house is too empty? Eddie will just make sure he’s rarely in it. Carla checks in on him? Eddie will just make sure he misses her calls. His parents messaging to tell him—well, those he’ll at least look at, because it might be something about Chris.
Eddie is fine, fine, fine.
Eddie remembers standing in a shop with Chris and Ana and feeling his heart race, pound, cascade away from him. He remembers thinking heart attack and being so mad at himself when he realised it was a panic attack instead.
Now, standing at his kitchen sink with a hand pressed to his chest, he’s just as mad at himself. He can’t even keep control, can’t stop himself from feeling Chris’ absence, from the press of loneliness.
Frank looks him in the eye when he says, “I can’t sign you back to work, Eddie.”
Eddie doesn’t snap until he’s sitting in his car. There’s Chris’ discarded bag on the floor on the passenger side. A takeout carton shoved into the gap between door and seat. Touches of his son everywhere. Touches of Buck, still, in his car.
He can’t go back to work. He doesn’t have a son. His best friend is—
Eddie is fine, fine, fine.
“The station will still be there, Eddie,” Bobby says gently.
Fuck you, Eddie thinks silently, because it’s not Bobby’s fault. Nothing will sill be there.
Buck glares at him. “When were you going to say something?”
Two weeks leave. For now. Until Eddie can figure out what the hell is going on.
“I’m going to see Chris,” Eddie says, injecting enough enthusiasm into his voice that he hopes Buck can’t read it. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but—"
He’s lying to Buck.
He’s lying to Buck.
To Buck.
God.
“I’m sure it’ll be good for you both,” Buck says, frown giving way to a smile. He has a date with Tommy in about twenty minutes. Eddie knows because he saw the plan in his phone. “I’ll have to join you next time. I miss him.”
Eddie nods, because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Buck will have to leave soon if he’s to make his date with Tommy and—
“Right,” Buck says, slipping his phone into his pocket. He pauses, because of course he does, looking at Eddie. “You okay?”
“I will be.” It’s not a lie; one day, probably, Eddie will be fine. “Go, have fun.”
Buck grins, laughs a little, bashful, and god, Eddie loves that he’s so happy, that he’s secure. He deserves it. “Thanks. I’ll speak to you when you get back?”
Eddie pulls him into a hug, because what else can he do. Maybe he clings a little too hard, maybe Buck presses back just as tight because some part of him senses something. Forcing himself to let go, Eddie finds his smile a touch more real because it’s Buck. “Go. I’ll be alright.”
“You better,” Buck says quietly. He gives Eddie one more glance and then bounces out of the house. Bounces. Child.
It takes a while for Eddie to move away from the door.
The house is quiet.
The house is lonely.
The house is empty.
Eddie’s empty.
Eddie’s lonely.
Eddie’s quiet.
Eddie’s phone is cradled in his hand.
The screen flashes and he knows he should answer, knows he should do something. Pick up? Speak to whoever it is?
Chris?
Buck?
Eddie closes his fist around it and drops it onto the floor.
It’s fine.
Eddie’s fine.
Eddie’s
fine, fine, fine.
“Eddie?”
Something bangs, a splinter of wood.
Eddie’s door, probably.
Did he lock it?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
“God, what—”
The voice is familiar. Cherished.
“Eddie, I need you to open your eyes.”
Why.
“Please. For me?”
Who.
“It’s Buck, Eddie. It’s me. Look at me. Please, look at me.”
It’s an effort to open an eye.
“That’s it.”
Buck looks—good. Panicked, desperate. Good.
Eddie doesn’t feel good. He doesn’t feel right.
“Buck,” he croaks.
“God, Eddie, you,” Buck looks over his shoulder. The bag is still by the door where he left it. “Chris called. He said you hadn’t called—you lied to me? About going to see him?”
Eddie doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
Buck shakes him a little, fingers against his chin. “Eddie?”
“I miss him,” Eddie says, his voice breaking. “But I—I can’t let him see me, not like this.”
“It’s been two weeks.” Buck looks stricken. “Eddie, Eddie, tell me you haven’t been here alone for two weeks?”
Eddie can’t. It would be a lie and he doesn’t want to do that to Buck again.
“Eddie.” Buck’s face crumples, tears in his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You’re happy,” Eddie whispers. He touches Buck’s face. His hand is shaking. Why is it shaking? “I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“God,” Buck says again. Eddie should tell him he shouldn’t blaspheme, but then he’s being manhandled into a sitting position. Arms come around him. They’re strong, Buck’s strong.
Eddie opens his mouth.
Closes it.
“Buck,” he manages eventually. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Buck sobs, a hand coming to rest against the back of Eddie’s head. He’s cradled. Held. Loved. “I’m here, Eddie.”
Eddie breaks.
His feelings cascade, break, and he folds into Buck, buries his face in Buck’s shoulder and cries.
Buck holds him, protects him, whispers.
I’ve got you.
Let it out.
It will be alright.
Buck is watching him.
Eddie’s skin crawls. “Buck—”
“If you ever lie to me again,” Buck starts, cuts himself off.
“You remember that puzzle we did with Chris a few weekends ago?”
Frowning, Buck nods. “Yeah.”
“There were pieces missing,” Eddie says, staring down at his hands. They’re curled around his glass, but it feels like he’s not touching anything, like he’s not holding onto it at all. Maybe it will fall. He tries not to let it. “I feel like the missing pieces.”
Blowing out a breath, Buck looks down at his phone. He holds it out to Eddie. It says Frank and the betrayal is swift. Before Eddie can say anything, Buck says, “Eddie, take it,” and his voice is strong, unyielding.
“Okay,” Eddie says. “Okay.”
Eddie doesn’t know who he is without Chris.
He doesn’t want to learn, but he has to. Has to listen to Frank, to speak, to unwrap himself, to talk, to talk, to listen.
Buck is waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the car.
“You have a date with Tommy,” Eddie says slowly.
“Nope,” Buck says, standing straight. He looks happy, still, but the words coming out of his mouth; “I’m a free man.”
Eddie panics, feels something else cascade away from him.
Immediately, Buck is in his space. “Eddie, no, hey no.”
Hands on his face, thumbs against the curve of his cheeks. Buck’s eyes boring into his. “Buck.”
“Tommy and I, what we had was fun, good for me, but you, god Eddie, you’re everything to me.”
Everything.
Can he be everything when he doesn’t even know himself?
“Let’s go home,” Buck says, “call Chris.”
Chris.
“Dad!” Chris is smiling, clutching he iPad and looking happy.
Is it Texas?
Being away from Eddie?
A hand rests on the back of his neck.
“Buck,” Chirs says, just as enthusiastic. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, buddy,” Buck says, dropping into the seat next to Eddie. “Eddie?”
“Chris,” Eddie says, and feels something slide into place. He’s still a father, still here. “Are you having fun in Texas?”
Chris goes quiet, eyes dropping. “They said you were in hospital.”
Eddie closes his eyes. “Chris—”
“He was,” Buck says quietly. He’s done this before. Too many times. Eddie owes so much, so much, he can never be worthy of whatever brought Buck into his life. “But he’s home and I’m taking care of him.”
“Good,” Chris says decisively. “I want to see you smile, Dad, and mean it.”
Choked, Eddie doesn’t know what to say. The fingers on his neck stroke, soothe, and Eddie breathes. “I will, Chris. Promise.”
Chris beams. “I wanna come back home soon, Dad.”
“You will,” Eddie promises, because he may have broken, scattered, but slowly he’s piecing himself back together. “We’ll have a party when you get back.”
A cheer and Chris is off, talking about Texas and their family, and it washes over Eddie. He grounds himself; Buck’s hand, the steady cadence of his son’s voice, the house that feels comfortable in the moment.
Buck kisses him softly, cradles his head in his hands.
Eddie feels cherished.
Safe.
“Buck,” he says.
“Sweetheart,” Buck replies, like a benediction. “Let’s go get our son.”
Yes, Eddie’s heart sings. Yes, yes, yes.