Work Text:
We were born to try
To see each other through.
To know and love ourselves and others well
Is the most difficult and meaningful
Work we'll ever do.
—Sleeping at Last, “Nine”
Chimney’s half dozing in the treatment chair, phone still cradled in his lap after finishing his conversation with Maddie, when he’s awakened by the sound of someone sitting down a few feet away. He opens his eyes to find Tommy Kinard watching him through the plastic sheeting of his quarantine cube, face as somber as Chimney’s ever seen it.
“Tommy,” Chimney says. He feels disoriented, like he’s been asleep for hours instead of minutes. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might need someone to keep you company while you’re stuck in here,” Tommy answers. “Unless you’d prefer to have some privacy.”
“No, it’s fine.” Chimney stares at him for a moment. He’s in his flight suit, so he must have been on duty, but that doesn’t explain why he’s here, in a tightly-controlled military base of operations for a biological disaster. “Did Buck call you?”
“He did. Said he needed a lift.”
Chimney grunts a weak laugh. “What, Uber’s not good enough for him anymore?”
“I don’t think they pick up people from rooftops. Especially the ones fleeing half the US Army.”
“You… You brought the antiviral?”
“No,” Tommy says humbly. “Evan and I just led everyone on a wild goose chase as a distraction while Karen drove Athena back here with the vial.”
“Well thank you for that.” Chimney lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. He’s so fucking exhausted. Just… seven layers of exhausted in a messy, broken heap. “Where is Buck?”
“He’s sitting with Hen, since they won’t let Karen in just yet. Ravi’s with her out in the parking lot.”
“How is he doing? Buck?”
Tommy gives a silent shake of his head and looks at Chimney as if to say, Do you really need to ask? Of course Buck’s devastated. Chimney knows how much the kid looked to Bobby for— well, everything that Philip Buckley couldn’t give him. Eight years on the job, and Buck’s face still lit up like a damn Christmas tree whenever Bobby praised him. What’s he going to do now that Bobby’s gone?
What are any of them going to do?
“How are you feeling?” Tommy asks gently.
“Physically? My symptoms are almost gone, but I still feel like I was hit by a cement truck. Emotionally? Uh, yeah. Not so great.”
“Understandable.”
“I’ve been over and over what happened,” Chimney says, his voice wavering. “When I last saw him, he still seemed like he was functioning normally, you know? Maybe that’s why I don’t want to believe it. And how the hell did he hide the fact that he was infected from all of us? This thing took me down so fast.”
“Just… sheer determination, I guess. In the Army I saw officers up and giving orders, trying to get their men to safety, while they were bleeding out from traumatic injuries. Bobby’s cut from the same cloth. Was cut,” Tommy corrects himself, grimacing.
“Yeah, he was.” Chimney feels his sore eyes stinging with tears again, and he presses his forefinger and thumb against them. “When I was sure I wasn’t going to make it, he promised me he’d look after my family. God, he must have already known by then. He’d already decided that if Athena got her hands on the antiviral, he wanted me to have it.”
“So your family wouldn’t lose you,” Tommy finishes quietly.
“Yes. He fulfilled his promise before I even went out the door of that lab, and I didn’t know it.” Chimney breaks off with a choked sound of disbelief. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?” Tommy prompts him.
“I just remembered. We were out on a call when Maddie went into labor with Jee. Dispatch called Bobby to get word to me, and he said to me… he said, Go meet your daughter. And tonight, even though he didn’t say it out loud, the last order he ever gave me was, Go meet your son.”
Chimney can’t speak for a minute, with the weight of Bobby’s sacrifice resting heavily upon his heart again, crushing it. If he lets himself think about all the things that Bobby was willing to walk away from—the beautiful, hard-won life he’d made, and the future joys he’d miss—it might break him, right here in this stupid plastic tent.
Tommy seems to need a minute himself, with his hands braced on his knees and his head dropped forward. He has to clear his throat before he speaks again.
“So, you guys are having a boy?”
“Yeah. The doctors told us when they checked on him after Maddie was kidnapped.”
Tommy blinks at Chimney. “Damn, you two have really been through hell this year. And it’s only April.”
“Sometimes the universe throws a good ol’ one-two combination, just to keep us on our toes,” Chimney sighs. He looks Tommy up and down, then asks, “How’s life been treating you? It’s been a while.”
“Me?” Tommy asks, incredulous. “You want to hear about me? Now?”
“I could use a distraction.”
“Uh, I’ve been doing all right,” Tommy says with a helpless gesture. “Working, watching the NCAA playoffs. The usual. Being chased by two Army helicopters through downtown LA tonight has probably been the most interesting thing that’s happened to me recently. Well… maybe the second most interesting.”
Chimney follows Tommy’s glance towards the other end of the medical tent, and he chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Buck told us about that. You two gonna keep hooking up randomly, or are you planning to work things out at some point?”
“I’d like to. I’d really like to, but I don’t know if he does.”
“Trust me, he does.”
“He tell you that?”
“He doesn’t need to. I’ve been watching him mope around for months—and not just at work. Being his brother-in-law gives me an all-access backstage pass to his mental anguish, because he always ends up at my house when he needs to talk about it. I’ve never seen him so hung up on anyone before.”
Tommy’s expression brightens slightly, then dims again. ‘I’m afraid we’re just going to keep messing it up, one way or another.”
“So what?” Chimney asks. “Do you know how many starts and restarts Maddie and I have had?”
“You’re saying I should ask again?”
“Yes. Ask him again. But maybe not right now.”
“No. Definitely not right now. Or anytime in the immediate future.” Tommy runs a hand over his eyes and rubs at his stubble. “Fuck, Howie. I was watching him through the CCTV feed after he left Bobby and Athena in the lab. He couldn’t even stay on his feet. I’ve never seen him break like that.”
“I don’t think he’s ever experienced a loss like this,” Chimney says gently. “He’s going to need help getting through it.”
Tommy looks down, rueful. “I don’t know if I’m the person to do that. It would feel like I’m… butting in where I don’t have the right to be anymore.”
“You do have the right, because you guys care about each other. Obviously you care—you took on the goddamn United States Army to help him!” Chimney stops to cough once before going on less forcefully, for the sake of his recovering lungs. “And you also know what he’s going through right now. You lost your mom too soon, just like I did.”
“It’s not the same as losing a parent to an illness,” Tommy hedges. “This is so terribly sudden. Evan’s going to be in shock for a while.”
“And when the shock wears off, he’ll need someone to be there for him.” Chimney leans over and taps the plastic sheeting when Tommy looks away. “Hey! Hen and I are going to be laid up for a bit, Maddie’s going to have her hands full taking care of me and Jee, and Eddie’s in Texas. I’m assigning this job to you, Kinard. That’s an order.”
“I outrank you, Han, in case you forgot.” Tommy’s amusement fades as quickly as it flared. “God, Howie, I’m so sorry. I know Bobby meant a lot to all of you.”
Chimney exhales sharply, hit anew by the grief of it. It’s starting to wrap around his throat again, choking him, when Colonel Hartman appears behind Tommy.
“Firefighter Han, how are you holding up in there?”
“I’ve been better,” Chimney croaks without a trace of his usual humor. “I’m ready to get out of here and go home.”
“The minute the blood tests show that the virus is no longer present in your system,” Hartman promises. “Is there anything you need right now?”
Chimney glances at Tommy, then says to the colonel, “Yes, actually. You could let Hen’s wife come in here, instead of making her wait outside in her car. It’s been an awful day, and I’m sure it would be a comfort to both of them if they could be together.”
“Certainly. I’ll send someone out to get her.” Hartman turns to Tommy. “I still don’t understand how you got caught up in this, Firefighter Kinard, or under whose orders you were working to assist Sergeant Grant. The LAFD has disavowed knowledge of your actions.”
“I wasn’t caught up, Colonel,” Tommy says easily. “Howie and I go back almost twenty years. He saved my life more than once while I was stationed at the 118. Today he needed my help, so I came.”
Hartman seems taken aback by Tommy’s casual admission. “And did you think about the personal consequences of impeding a domestic terrorism investigation, disobeying my order to land immediately, and risking the life of a civilian passenger in your attempt to elude us?”
“With all due respect, sir, are personal consequences at the forefront of your mind when the lives of those fighting beside you are at stake?” Tommy asks. “That’s not what I learned during my time in the Army.”
Hartman’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t answer. Chimney takes the opportunity to jump in on Tommy’s behalf.
“I can’t see how it would be a good look for the feds to press charges against anyone besides the scientist who tried to unleash this dangerous virus—especially when a decorated LAFD captain gave his life in the line of duty today.”
Hartman looks between Tommy and Chimney, seeming to weigh Chimney’s words. Then he huffs in defeat.
“It’s not my decision, but I will make the recommendation that no one from the LAFD or LAPD be charged today.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tommy says.
Hartman almost smiles. “My pilots tell me you did some pretty impressive flying out there. Gave them a good chase. I should have guessed you were one of ours.”
Tommy accepts the compliment with a gracious nod. “I wouldn’t be where I am now without my time in the service.”
Hartman reiterates his promise to have Karen brought in for Hen. After he leaves, Chimney adjusts his position in the chair with a groan.
“Trillions of dollars in the defense budget, and they can’t even get proper beds for the infectious disease-inflicted.” He gives Tommy a cutting side-eye. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I appreciate the backup.” Tommy says.
“Do me one more favor, then. When Karen gets here, don’t let Buck go off alone. Stick with him, especially if he tries to tell you that he’s okay. He’s not okay.”
“I know he isn’t.” Tommy looks past Chimney, his expression haunted. “And I won’t leave him.”
“Good. And check in with Ravi, too. He’s got to be pretty rattled right now.”
“Copy that.”
When Tommy starts to leave, Chimney taps the plastic sheeting again and calls after him sharply.
“Hey! You’re part of the crew now, whether you like it or not. Lifelong service commitment, asshole.”
“Which crew is that?” Tommy asks.
“Bobby’s crew.”
Tommy’s lost for words for a moment. He swallows hard, then gives Chimney a teary salute before ducking out the tent entrance.
Chimney closes his eyes. He’ll call Maddie again in a minute, if only to hear her voice. If she’s home and Jee’s still awake, maybe he’ll get to talk to her briefly, too. He wonders where Athena is right now, and if she’s found a bit of solace in her own children’s voices. It’s doubtful.
It’s too early for solace, for any of them. The best they can do at the moment is to make sure that no one is alone.
Chimney picks up his phone, cradling it close heart as he waits for Maddie to pick up, and lets the tears start to fall again.