Chapter Text
Buck wasn’t sure if he could ever accept that his life had changed for good.
Even before that day — the one that split his world into a Before and an After —
he’d always lived like everything good was temporary.
Borrowed. Conditional.
Eddie was sure of only one thing:
there was no version of Buck — before or after, whole or hurting —
that he wouldn’t choose.
Not one he wouldn’t fight for.
Not one he wouldn’t stay for.
People called it a “turning point,”
like something bright came after something bleak.
But Buck still felt the echo of that day every time he woke up.
The sound.
The pain.
The absence.
Not just of his leg —
but of who he used to be.
Eddie had never been more scared in his life.
Not in gunfire.
Not in collapsing buildings.
Not even the day he’d almost lost Buck the first time.
Because this was a wound he couldn’t bandage,
a pain he couldn’t take on for him,
a battle Buck had to walk through alone —
no matter how much Eddie ached to carry him.
Buck stared at a stranger in the mirror now.
Someone he didn’t know how to introduce himself to.
Someone he didn’t want anyone else to see.
But Eddie loved every version of him.
Even the one Buck couldn’t bear to be.
So Eddie made himself a quiet promise,
standing in that too-bright hospital corridor,
hands shaking but heart steady:
If Buck had lost himself,
Eddie would walk beside him
every brutal, broken, breathtaking step of the way
until he found the new him again.
*
It had happened in less than a breath.
One moment Buck was on his feet, radio against his shoulder, tracking the captain’s voice through smoke and heat—
and the next, the world split open.
A sound like the sky cracking.
A shockwave slamming into him, folding him in half.
The truck lurched—metal screaming, glass exploding outward in glittering shards.
Buck didn’t even have time to brace.
The blast hit his left side first.
Then the ground was gone.
Then everything was pain.
He landed hard, the air knocked out of him, ears ringing so violently the world seemed under water. He tried to push up—couldn’t. Something was crushing his leg. Or maybe his leg wasn’t there. He couldn’t tell.
It took him a second to understand he was screaming.
Voices blurred into a frantic roar around him.
“…we need extraction—”
“—Buckley, stay awake—”
“—medics on the way—”
Then one voice cut through all the rest.
“BUCK!”
Eddie.
Suddenly Eddie was there—knees skidding in rubble, gloves on Buck’s shoulders, on his face, anywhere he could touch to keep him anchored. His helmet was gone, his eyes wild, terrified in a way Buck had never seen.
“Hey—hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice shook so hard it barely came out. “Buck, look at me.”
Buck tried. His vision swam. The world kept tilting sideways.
His leg—
God—
the pain surged sharp and white and endless—
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Eddie said, even though it wasn’t okay, not even close. He pressed his forehead to Buck’s temple like he could physically keep him here. “Stay with me. Please. Just—stay.”
Buck’s breath hitched. The edges of everything went soft and dark.
“Ed—” he managed.
“I know,” Eddie whispered, voice breaking apart. “I know. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Buck wanted to answer.
Wanted to tell him he wasn’t scared if Eddie was there.
Wanted to tell him not to look so gutted.
But the pain blurred.
The noise dimmed.
The world slipped.
And the last thing Buck felt before everything disappeared was Eddie’s hand wrapped around his own, holding on like he could keep Buck in the world by sheer force of love.