Chapter Text
Chapter One
"The Weight of My Own Shoulders"
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Buck hops out of the fire engine with a violent cough. Covered in soot, he drops his hands to his knees and inhales deeply.
He's exhausted, his muscles are on fire, and he just wants. A damn. Shower.
"Okay team. I'm taking us offline for a bit. Shower; take a nap; do all the things you need to to get yourself ready and back out there, got it?" Bobby said. It was less of a question, more of an order.
His decree was met with thankful and obedient murmurs. Buck wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and caught his Captain's gaze. Bobby’s face twisted in concern, and he held up a questioning "thumbs up." Buck nodded off his worries, but didn't actually look to see if Bobby was satisfied with his response. Instead, he beelined it to his turn out hook.
—
Less than fifteen minutes later, Buck stepped out of a shower stall with a towel tied around his waist. His curls were dampened by the water that still clung to his hair, and a few droplets trailed down his muscles. He was quick to dress back into uniform and scrunch his hair as it dried.
He was securing his watch to his wrist when Bobby approached him.
"Buck?"
Buck jumped, unaware that he was even there. "Uh, yeah Cap?"
He watched as Bobby's brows knit, and sighed. Here comes trouble.
"I think you should go home," Bobby suggested gently.
Buck's shoulders fell and he closed his eyes, trying to keep his cool.
"I know you want to be back on the job, and you're doing great Buck, you really are, but there's only two hours left of shift and that fire was pretty nasty. Go home and get some rest."
Buck opened his eyes and stared blankly at Bobby for a moment. "Yeah, fine. Alright," he agreed, reluctant.
As he walked to the locker room, he could still feel his Captain's pinning gaze. Buck shrugged it off.
He dug through his duffle bag and stuffed it full of his extra clothing and items. When he felt satisfied, he spun on his heel to leave, only to get spooked by a certain Texan looming in the doorway. Buck jumped, again.
"You alright?" Eddie frowned.
"Yeah," Buck sighed. "Just tired and a little jumpy. Bobby told me to go home early."
Eddie's stare was careful, but observant. "How do you feel about that?"
"Too sore to protest," Buck admitted.
Eddie gave him a fond smile. "Then it’s a good thing you're taking off early. You still coming over this weekend?"
"Yeah, I should be. I don't think I'm up for anything crazy though. Wanna spend most of it resting," he confessed, guilty.
Eddie brushed off his worry. "Then we'll do movie marathons. Chris won't care as long as you're there."
That brought a smile to Buck's face. "Sweet. I'll see you then, Eds."
"Take care Buck," Eddie returns, slapping Buck's shoulder.
Buck walks out of the fire station with a bit more confidence than before. But when he reaches his Jeep, it all comes crashing back down again. He timidly slumps into the front seat and stares out at the road in front of of him.
His eyes wander mindlessly, but his thoughts are running at high.
It had been a few weeks since he was cleared for duty since the lightning strike. And now, here he was, sad because he felt like shit and was sore all over. God, would he ever feel normal again?
A few tears streamed down his face and he let them. Everything was just too much right now. Part of him wanted to run to Maddie, to collapse in her arms like he had in his youth and just cry. The other part of him didn't want her to worry. She already did her fair share of that while he was in the coma. She had enough to deal with then and she has enough to deal with now.
He could wait for Eddie, or just go to his place and crash on the couch. Would he care? Probably not. But he couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that.
He couldn't run to his parents, as if that were even something he would want to do. Margaret and Philip were already back in Hershey, probably ghosting around the house in their silent, freakish marriage.
So instead, he cried alone. He cried alone and silently. He cried alone and silently and hard. He cried alone and silently and hard and in his work's parking lot. Is that pathetic?
He wasn’t in any condition to think that through when a stranger tapped on his window. Instead, he wiped at his tears and rolled it down.
"I can fix your loneliness," she whispered.