Archive of Our Own ^beta

Buck should have known this would go terrible. It’s one thing to sit in front of your former co-workers and listen to a lawyer practically rip them apart seam by seam just to prove a point in Buck’s corner - it’s another thing to be able to hear their thoughts.

The longer the session goes on, the further and further Buck feels his regret grow. He just wanted his job back, damn it! 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to feel like a revolving door of anger, guilt, and sorrow, his senses being badgered over and over again by the thoughts of everyone stuck in each of these interrogations.

“Buck wasn’t terminated, he still has this job.” Bobby says.

I never said he was terminated. Hell, he walked out himself when I told him about desk duty.

“It’s our position that Firefighter Buckley - well not technically fired, has been constructively terminated from all components of firefighting duty. A de-facto firing. Which is a direct result of a pattern of discriminatory and unequal treatment on the part of Captain Nash.” Mackey answers smoothly. Too smoothly - he’s clearly had many years of practice at this.

“Unequal treatment?” Bobby asks, eyes flicking over to Buck’s downcast one.

If anything, I’ve treated him too well. But the ladder truck - that wasn’t equal. That was on me. I want him safe.

“I don’t treat Buck any differently than I do any other firefighter under my watch.” There comes out the Captain voice and Buck hates the harshness of it, practically directed right at him.

Maybe I do. Buck hear’s Bobby’s voice betray his own words.

Chimney is much less serious than Bobby, recounting his rebar accident with almost glee adorning his face, showing off his barely visible scar to Chase Mackey who pretends to be sympathetically shocked at it.

“And how long did it take before you returned to work?” Mackey asks, and Buck can already tell where this line of questioning is going before he’s even registered Chase’s voice in his head already gearing up his next questions.

“Uh, several weeks. No - you know what, it was more closer to a month. I’m a quick healer, evidently.” Chimney answers, but the look over to Buck confirms that Chimney can tell where it’s going too.

Wait. I took a month for rebar through the brain - and Buck hasn’t been back at all. Which sucks, I miss him-oh. Uh oh.

“Evidently.” Chase parrots back at Chimney. “And your more recent medical trauma? After you were stabbed repeatedly by your girlfriend’s ex-husband?” Chase Mackey was not one to cut corners on his speech, that was very much evident and Buck wished he block his ears from his voice and his thoughts.

“How long before you were back with the 118?” Chase continues.

C’mon, gimme a good answer Han. Chase’s voice snakes through Buck’s brain much like his court methods apparently do.

“That was also about a month.” Chimney answers.

Shit. Shit, I can’t lie about this but SHIT, he’s got me. God damn it.

Buck listens to Chase bring up the apparent pattern of Bobby allowing firefighters back too soon - after barely a month - and wishes he was anywhere else. This was torture and he brought it upon himself.

Why couldn’t they just see his point of view?

Hen is factual and to-the-point. Of course she is.

“The blood thinners that Buck has to take right now makes it very dangerous for him to be in the field.” Hen says. This Buck was actually interested in, because he HAD done his own research into this - and while certain types of blood thinners were barred from being on active firefighting duty - his weren’t.

There aren’t any internal words from Hen, just flashes of Buck, under the ladder truck, coughing up blood on Athena’s porch, collapsing in Hen’s arms after Chris was found during the tsunami. Yes, shit happens, and clearly it’s affected Hen too, but that doesn’t mean they just get to sideline him for the rest of his career. He’s survived. Chimney’s survived worse. Eddie’s survived bullet wounds on the other side of the world. Why can’t Hen see that?

“Tell me, do you recognize this brochure?” Chase asks, sliding a blue and pink pamphlet over to Hen.

There’s a pause. “Yes.” She answers.

“Can you tell us what it is?” The sleazy but efficient lawyer asks.

“It’s a commercial brochure for anticoagulant blood thinner medication.” She answers.

Where was he going with this?

“Medications that you yourself sold in your former career as a pharmaceutical rep, is that right?” He asks.

Huh? Buck didn’t even know she used to work in pharmacy sales.

“Yes.” Hen states.

“And in your sales pitch to your doctor-clients was it your contention that these medications would allow patients to resume their normal lives?”

Motherfucker. Buck hears Hen swear internally. Why did you do this Buck? Why couldn’t you just wait to come back? 

He wanted to go home. He wanted his life and his family back and they were fighting him every step of the way.

“I was a sales rep, not a doctor.” Hen replies, not fully answering the question.

We can’t have you bleeding out in the field - we already did that on Athena’s-she cuts herself off.

Eddie is the most pissed off. Snarky. Verbally and internally.

“If Cap says he’s not ready - he’s not ready.” Eddie answers.

Instead of waiting for Cap to actually say he’s ready he’s starting a stupid lawsuit. Yeah, he should be back - but instead we’re dealing with this.

There’s a small flicker of hope at knowing that it seemed that every one of them had some indication of wanting him back, at least internally, unfortunately spending any time with Mackey was quickly souring that for them all.

“Were you ready, Firefighter Diaz, to return to work after your wife’s death?” Chase asks, casually, almost like he’s asking about the weather conditions.

Asshole.

“That’s my business.” Eddie answers out loud.

“It’s also your captain’s business. He never suggested you take some time? See a counsellor?” The lawyer asks. 

Buck knows that Eddie would not want see a counsellor and he definitely didn’t. And Bobby wasn’t even there when it happened. Which, of course plays right into Chase’s hand.

“He wasn’t there at the time.” Eddie answers.

“Because he’d been suspended.” Chase answers right back.

Chase bringing up Bobby’s alcoholism and how it’s classified as a chronic brain disease-that has Buck’s stomach dropping to the floor. You’re meant to be truthful with your lawyer, and people in the profession are known as cut-throat, but Buck’s never been on this side of it before. He’s never felt the pure hurt and anger emanating from each possibly-former friend of his, felt their eyes pierce his as if they were steak knives.

Each question and each answer feels like playing a Jenga game. The imaginary wood blocks tower over them and Buck can practically see Chase Mackey careful and expertly picking apart the structure that made up the soul and lives of the 118 - it’s going to crash any second and it’s Buck’s fault.

He just wanted to go back.

It feels like the tower is finally tumbling, crashing into him and knocking him sideways when he finally walks out of the office to take the elevator down after the sessions from hell. He watches down the hallway the 118 board it without him, the doors closing on their sullen faces, but not on their minds.

What the hell is wrong with him-

Why would he do such a thing-

Bringing THAT up? How could he-

Why did he say-

Why couldn’t he-

Before long the elevator descends enough that their voices fade out, and Buck is left alone, spiralling from his own thoughts and the others.

What did he do?

——————————————————————————————————————————

It’s after.

It’s after but it’s still not right.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be now?” Buck’s still mad, Eddie’s still mad, and the only thing Buck knows how to do is to talk. To talk and talk and mess it up somewhere. There’s a part of his mind that’s screaming at him to shut up, to just let Eddie walk by but the bigger part screams at him not to. To push his buttons and annoy the hell out of him and make him say something even just to yell at him because that’s what Buck knows how to to - that’s what he’s used to.

From years ago - from the other Buckleys dotting this planet, all the way back in the past that’s miserable, cold, and stuck in the attics of Bucks mind - Hersey, Pennsylvania.

“You’re just gonna keep on ghosting me?” He knows how to rile up people. He knows how to push and push until it’s too much. What else does he do?

Abby thought it was too-

Ali knew after-

“Halloween is over, just so you know.” Buck continues. Eddie stops, turns on his heel and is looking at him. Score 1 for Buck. Some semblance of acknowledgment.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Buck.” Eddie answers.

I wanted you to not do that stupid lawsuit. I wanted you back without a sleazy lawyer. Eddie’s internal voice betrays.

Buck wanted to come back without a sleazy lawyer too.

“Forgive, forget - make you feel better about what you did?” Eddie carries on, voice harsh and sarcastic.

Does that hurt? Does it hurt like I did?

“I just want you to talk to me.” Buck retorts. Buck wants to actually hear Eddie, not just his internal voice. He wants Eddie to actually say the things he means. 

Eddie chuckles, but it’s not light, like they’re sharing a joke. It’s a sharp sound. 

Talk? Talk about what? About how you told that greasy lawyer everything about us? About Bobby’s drinking? About Shannon?

“Even if it’s just to say that you’re still mad.” Buck adds on.

“I’m not mad!” Eddie answers. “I’m…” He trails off.

I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at you doing this. I’m mad at you getting hurt. I’m mad at that awful lawyer. I’m mad at not being able to talk to you. I’m mad for Bobby. I’m mad for Chris. I’m mad for me.

“When you decided to sue the department, to make Cap the bad guy, did you ever stop to think for a minute what that could do to us?” Eddie continues instead.

“I-I just I needed my job back.” Buck answers. “I missed-I missed being here. Being part of the team.” Buck can feel his words catching in his throat as Eddie silently nods at him. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

“Lotta ‘I’ in there.” Eddie says. Buck ducks his head, his eyes falling to the concrete ground of the fire station. He was thinking of the team, but obviously not in the way he should have. 

“Your actions, your choices, they impact the rest of us.” Eddie lets his words in sink in.

“That’s what it means to be part of a team.”

And it hasn’t felt like one without you.

“You’re right.” Buck admits. “I didn’t think about what could happen. I was mad at Bobby for not letting me back. I was mad at-at you guys for moving on without me-I was mad that there was nothing I could do about it and I just-I just wanted to-“

“Punch someone?” Eddie interrupts and there’s flashes of flickering lights, of fists flying, paper bills, blood and teeth, and the feeling of searing pain fading to relief.

“Yeah a little.” Buck answers quietly, wondering what he saw. What Eddie saw. “And I get it. And I really am sorry.”

I know you are. Eddie’s voice answers.

“So, whatever it takes for you to forgive me-“

“I forgive you.”

I forgave you the minute you said you wanted to talk.

Buck hears the overlapping of Eddie’s voices and it stuns him. Such easy forgiveness and it’s given so fast. It gives him whiplash from the highs and lows of the conversation even with telepathy on his metaphorical tool belt. Eddie simply forgives because Buck finally said he wanted to talk.

Eddie wanted to hear him out.

“Also what it means to be part of a team.” Eddie repeats himself.

And I want you part of it. I want you to have my back. Like we said.

“Just…” Stay. Have my back. Partners. “Just don’t do it again.” He finishes.

Partners. Buck can do that. And not do something like that ever again.

They clap hands and pull each other in, a quick hug that feels like confirmation, that feels like solid ground and Buck almost doesn’t even notice Eddie squirm. But he pulls away too fast and then Bobby’s voice is interrupting them, however not before Buck hears: Damn ribs.

Wait, the images he saw - that looked-Buck wasn’t sure what that was. Like some kind of underground boxing ring?

But then Bobby needs his attention and Buck realizes he’ll have to question Eddie later.