Hello and welcome to a song fic based around See You Again by Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth. I'm aiming for pain, sobs and some tears.

The "[...]" are where song lyrics can be inserted. Each one is a full stanza, I suggest listening to the song to set the mood.

Enjoy.

[...]

The beach around Santa Monica Pier was still littered with debris from the tsunami. Anything that could wash up was there. Most of the bodies had been found and taken to a morgue, but the clean up was still ongoing.

He sat quietly on the sand, his back leaning against a wooden board he'd propped up against some other debris.

The sun was just barely starting to set, casting a pale yellow across the horizon and the water. There was an easy feeling of peace, watching it. The end of the day was approaching. It seemed fitting for what he'd come there for.

[...]

Buck could remember when the 118 firehouse felt like family. It felt like so long ago. Back when there was happiness and ease and openness. Back when he was included in anything.

He missed it. He missed talking with the rest of the team. Really talking, not just professional hellos or getting orders barked at him. He missed the gatherings they would have outside of work, at the Grant-Nash household most often. Missed laughing with Chimney, or getting into deep conversations about random things with Hen, or cooking firehouse meals with Bobby. He missed being able to talk to Eddie at all, or even seeing Christopher.

The other kids were off limits too. Buck wasn't allowed to see Denny or May or Harry either. He didn't really know how they were doing since no one talked around him. That didn't stop May from texting him or video calling him and giving him a line to Harry too, Denny when they could reach him. They were probably the only reason he hadn't done this sooner. The kids were there and they reminded him of why he fought so hard.

But to the others, it was like he was a plague and the mere mention of anything around him would infect the speaker. He missed when his plague was laughter.

He missed the family he had.

[...]

He never wanted to file the lawsuit. He needed his job back, though. He needed the one thing he felt that he was good at. The thing that helped people, that made a difference. He needed to be a firefighter like he needed air to breathe. It was a part of him and no one seemed to understand it.

He remembered the struggle of fighting through everything fate decided to throw at him. The recovery from having his leg crushed, more recovery from the pulmonary embolism, even more recovery after the tsunami. And he always woke up alone in the hospital. A few small visits when the 118 firefighters had time to drop in. A few texts to check in. Nothing that really felt like they were there, and that stung so goddamn bad.

He thought that they would be there. He thought he'd found a family that would actually see him, not just shrug and turn away like his parents had. Realizing that they wouldn't… He fought so hard to get back, hoping that things could go back to their normal. Their family.

Now, he didn't know if that family was only his imagination.

[...]

Buck was tired. He was so goddamn tired. Tired of waving through a window. Tired of trying to apologize and break through the glass that had settled between him and the rest of his team. So tired of trying to insert himself in a place he clearly wasn't welcome.

He was tired of burdening others too. Tired of being exhausting. He'd tried to suck it up, tried to do what Eddie said, but it didn't work. It didn't fix what he'd broken with the 118 and it didn't make him feel anything but… empty. He'd had enough of empty.

He blinked tiredly, feeling the pain in his stomach flare up again. He sighed, feeling so tired.

Buck knew there wouldn't be any coming back, and he was alright with that. He'd taken enough pills to cause damage to his liver and kidneys. Even if someone happened to save him from the overdose itself, he would probably die from organ failure anyway. No turning back now. No stopping. He was alright with that.

He let his eyes drift close as the waves came for him.

The sun set on the broken things gathered on the beach.

[...]

The 118 was dispatched to the beach. To the remains of Santa Monica Pier. A suspected suicide. Someone out walking at sunset had found a man sleeping on the beach and tried to wake him, only to find that he wasn't sleeping and that there was a note in his hand.

If it was a suicide, it was more than likely that the man was already dead, Eddie thought to himself. He hated these calls, not knowing what to say or what to do in order to do his job. Something about feeling so helpless to someone who needed so much help… He hated it. He hated not being able to make these victims feel better.

Still, he followed Bobby down to the sand. The last bits of light were fading from the sky and the night was taking over. The team used flashlights to find a clear path. The woman and her dog who found the victim met them at the edge of the sand.

"He's over here," she said. She was panicked, and she sounded guilty. "I just saw him, and he looked like he was sleeping, and it was getting late, so I thought I'd wake him up, make sure he was alright, you know? And he was just… I couldn't find a pulse."

Bobby nodded, slipping into the calm, reassuring captain role he's always had. "It's alright. You did the right thing, calling it in. What happened to this man was not your fault."

The woman nodded and took a deep breath to steady herself. "Yeah… yeah. I just… not something you expect to find." She stopped and pointed to a pile of debris. "He's just over there. If you don't mind, I don't…"

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to," Hen said gently.

The dog-walker nodded, nervously crossing her arms and seeming to shrink in on herself. The 118 team moved past her, Bobby rounding the debris first. Eddie didn't miss the way his mouth dropped open, or the way his body froze as he saw the victim. Frowning, Hen moved to stand next to the captain. When she tensed too, Chimney and Eddie quickly followed.

It was when he saw the dead man's face that Eddie knew why the team had frozen.

[...]

Eddie could remember how his relationship with Buck had grown.

The other man had been prickly at first, cold towards him and Eddie had first though he was just an asshole. But then he really got to know Buck and he knew his first impression had been so incredibly wrong. It was just jealousy and Buck trying to gauge if he should let Eddie in or not.

He understood that. Letting people in… It wasn't easy and Eddie understood trying to protect yourself and the ones you love. Eddie learned quickly just how Buck loved. Buck loved swiftly and it was impossible to make him hate you once he loved you. It was just how Evan Buckley was wired and Eddie wouldn't change it for the world.

His friendship with Buck had grown quickly once Buck decided he was worth letting in. Buck really saw him and he didn't have anything but joy to offer. He loved Christopher with no complaints or payments, and he… Eddie had never met someone so… Buck as Buck was. The man's easy light, yet his powerful on-the-job business attitude. It was fluid and graceful and unique and it had been missing for the past few months.

Just how missing it had been suddenly struck Eddie like lightning.

[...]

Hen was the first to move. She rushed forwards to shift Buck into a lying position on his back.

"Come on, Buck." Her voice was choked, desperate. "Come on, don't you do this to us. Wake up."

Chimney was the next to move. He fell to his knees next to Buck and started assessing him.

"No pulse," he said, panic seeping into his attempt at professionalism. "Who knows how long he's been out here. Starting compressions."

No one mentioned the basically hopeless chance they had. They'd come out knowing there was a slim chance the victim was still alive, or that there was a chance to save them. Their attempt was a formality. They weren't going to pretend it was though. This wasn't someone they could attempt to revive, only to sadly shake their heads and step back. This was someone they had to fight for. This was Buck. This was their younger brother.

While Hen and Chimney worked to revive him, Eddie's attention turned to the crumpled note now lying in the sand. He crouched down to pick it up, using his flashlight to read the familiar scrawl written on the paper.

Evan Buckley.

Only a name. No goodbye, no I'm sorry, no reason. Just a way to identify him, not that they needed it. Something about the impersonal thing bothered Eddie. Leaving nothing wasn't what Buck would do. There was something missing. Eddie just couldn't think of what. He knew they screwed up. He knew he screwed up. But leaving nothing just wasn't Buck.

"Athena."

Eddie could feel the way the air grew cold at the name Bobby called. He looked up and saw the woman walking over, flashlight in her hand, worried look on her face.

"I heard it was a suspected suicide?" she asked as she rounded the debris pile. "Any luck? Or identity?"

Numb and wordless, Eddie merely handed her the note and looked down at his feet. He didn't need to watch for the moment Athena understood. Her gasp was audible and then Bobby was holding her back from shoving Hen and Chimney aside.

Eddie watched as Chimney tried to revive Buck. He knew he wasn't the only one who wished that their combined hope would create a miracle. Some sort of selfish, unworldly miracle as a gift for all the good they did as first-responders. Whatever the reason, just something that would bring Buck back.

But reality was reality, and reality sucked. There was no point in hope, because they all knew that Buck wasn't going to wake up. They knew that, but no one wanted to give up.

Hen choked on a sob and Chimney finally tired out. Athena stopped struggling in Bobby's hold and Bobby stopped holding her back. Eddie just… faded out. He barely heard Chimney's words over the numbness in his mind.

"He's gone…" Chimney whispered, tears falling down his cheeks. "We can't… He's gone."

[...]

They gathered the rest of the family to tell them all together. It would be easier on all of them, to only have to explain it once. Explain that they'd lost the sunshine in all their lives.

The entirety of their family gathered in the living room of the Grant-Nash household. The kids were together on the couch, Maddie and Karen nearby sitting in two of the armchairs. Michael had pulled over a chair from the dining table. Athena sat in another of the armchairs while the firefighters stood around her, all of them somber and silent and hoping someone else would take the fall to explain.

"What's going on?" Karen asked after a long moment of tense silence. "What happened out there?"

"It's about Buck," Bobby started slowly.

May's head shot up, her eyes wide. "He didn't actually leave, did he?"

Harry looked sick too, curling in on himself and groaning. "No… He didn't actually run away, did he?"

Athena frowned. "What are you two…?"

Neither of the two siblings said anything for a long moment before May pulled out her phone. She tapped through a few things before holding it up.

"I've been texting him. For months, ever since the lawsuit. He sent me this, this evening. I didn't… We didn't think…"

Athena leaned closer to see the words on the screen. It was a text from Buck, saying nothing but, 'I'm going to get some space from all of this. Thank you for everything.' Her gaze returned to her daughter and she saw the fear in May's eyes. She was terrified that she'd done the wrong thing.

"You've been texting Buck?" Bobby asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, yeah." May shrugged but she didn't look apologetic. "He's been pretty lonely, you know."

"And really tired," Denny piped up. "Whenever I see him, he looks really tired."

"'Whenever you see him?'" Hen repeated. She sounded gut-punched, like she was barely holding herself together. "When did you get to see him, baby?"

"Whenever May comes over," Denny's reply was easy, though hesitant. He looked between his moms, wondering if he was in trouble. "Or whenever I get to come here. Buck's always happy to talk."

No one missed the guilt that crossed the expressions of the firefighters. When that only raised the tension in the room, Athena let out a long sigh and tried to get the words out. She swallowed tightly, looking from the kids to the other adults.

"Buck's… Buck is gone," she started. She stopped, feeling the reality of it hit her again as Bobby placed a hand on her shoulder. Athena took a shuddering breath before forcing herself to continue, "The dead type of gone… We think he took some pills and..."

She shook her head. It struck her in the heart. Not only was Buck gone, but it brought back memories Athena thought she had buried and left for dead. Judging by the nauseated look on May's face, those memories were back to haunt her too.

Michael had shot up from his chair, eyes wide. He looked from Athena, to Bobby, to every other member of the 118. When none of them denied it, Michael slowly sank back down, wiping a hand down his face.

Karen pressed a hand to her mouth, tears building her eyes. No one denied it. No one burst out saying it was just a cruel trick. Hen stood next to her and shook her head sadly and Karen whimpered.

Maddie was gone. She stared down at her hands and said nothing. Chimney kneeled next to her, taking her hands in his. There was a far away look in her eyes. She moved slowly, as if she wasn't quite there. A ghost in a human body.

May looked ready to throw up. Harry wasn't much better, judging by the way he had his head in his hands. Denny looked confused at first, but he understood the meaning. Buck wasn't coming back.

And Christopher...

Christopher curled up on the couch and started sobbing.

[...]

It was Athena who found the video. On Buck's laptop, found on the table in his apartment, under a little note that read 'To the ones who care.' It led to another gathering at the Grant-Nash house, this time without the kids. They would get to see it later. In formality, the adults wanted to be sure it was safe for them to watch. Unofficially, it was so that they could cry without the kids seeing.

Just one look at the first frame of the video told Hen that it was a suicide letter. It was Buck, sitting at the dining table of his apartment. He looked horrible and she wondered how she hadn't seen it before. The paleness in his face, the empty look in his eyes. It should have slapped her in the face when it first happened, but it didn't. It had come in like a silent poison and none of them had seen it.

The laptop rested on the coffee table, the eight of them gathered in close to see it. With a shaking breath, Athena clicked the play button and let Buck's voice enter the silence.

"Most uh… Most people leave a note or a letter, don't they?" Buck gave the smallest of sad smiles as he ducked his head. "I figured you deserved more than that."

Something about it made Bobby sick. It was just a video of Buck, but knowing what he did after recording it… Something about knowing what came next was nauseating. Still, the video took no notice of this and it continued.

"I'm sorry." Buck's voice was shaky as he seemed to look at the wall above the camera. "I'm so sorry, for fighting so hard to come back to the 118, only to… let go. It's so selfish, I know but I can't… I can't do this anymore.

"This silence, this… this being left behind. I wanted to go back to family. It's not… It's not family. Not anymore, and I can't… I can't do it."

Bobby was sure the pain on his face was clear to see. He knew what this was about now. How could he have been so blind? No, not blind… Turning a blind eye. He kept Buck at arm's length and told himself that it was for his safety. But who's safety was it really? Buck's or his own?

There was no denying that Bobby was hurt over the lawsuit. There was no denying that it was partly his fault. There was no denying that he'd kept all of this open and raw for much longer than necessary. Now, he was being drowned in the consequences.

"I love you guys. All of you. Never doubt that. I love you, but… I don't think you love me anymore and I can't…"

Buck's voice cracked just as a choked sob wrestled its way past Hen's lips. Karen was leaning against her, crying silently and neither of them knew how to comfort the other.

"What's he talking about?" Maddie asked quietly. Her expression said heartbroken, but her voice said suspicion. "Why is he doubting us?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Michael said, his voice low and quiet.

Athena looked over at the firefighters, the guilty looks on their faces making it obvious. "Any ideas?"

There was a lot of shuffling feet and ducked heads before Bobby muttered, "This is our fault. My fault."

No one missed the sob Hen let out, or the shaking breath that rattled Chimney. Buck didn't stop for their guilt, however, and only went on.

"I'm exhausting, I know—"a broken sob finally tore past Eddie's lips at the same time Buck's expression crumpled—"but at the end of the day, none of you go home to an empty house. This place…" Buck looked around his apartment, looking so utterly dejected in a way that Eddie had never imagined he could ever look. "This place is home but at the same time, it's not, you know?

"You all have someone to go home to. Hang up the uniform and… and have a normal life and I… I can't. I would go home everyday, to the firehouse, and I would feel alive there, like I'm not just… just waiting for something that would never come. This apartment has become more of a prison than anything."

Buck let out a small huff, a rueful smile crossing his lips, "Everywhere's a prison now. I know what drowning is like, I know what it's like to be thrown around like a rag doll in a current." Eddie could tell that no one liked thinking about what Buck went through with the tsunami. They all hated the reminder. "It feels like that constantly. I can't breathe, I can't get any relief, and I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, Evan," Maddie whispered. "You don't need to be sorry."

"Maddie…" Buck smiled, that tired look in his eyes negating any of the joy he tried to put into it. "This isn't your fault. You're finally happy and you deserve the world. I couldn't destroy that. I'm done being a burden. I don't remember the last time someone needed me. I need you guys though. This family—if it's not just in my head—"

"It's not," Chimney whispered, tears running down his face. "It's not, Buck, it's here."

"—Is all that I have, but it's not all that you have, and I think that's my problem. I can't find a place of my own anywhere but with you, and you don't need me. So what's the point? I'm just so tired.

"I've been lost a lot of times in my life. I can't even count how many times I felt so lost that I would never find my way. But for the longest time, I was found. I was found with the 118." Buck's smile turned a little more genuine, more Buck, tears running down his face. "That family was the most at home I've ever felt. I know I don't deserve to call it family or home anymore, but it found me and now… Now I'm lost again and I don't think there's any coming back this time. There's no roads leading home anymore and I've been wandering for months. I don't remember what it's like to live lost, so I think this time… This time, I'm just going to stay lost.

"You're all done with me and really… I'm done with me too."

His voice grew so quiet. Quiet and ashamed and so hopeless that Maddie couldn't help the sob that passed her lips. One hand covered her mouth as she stared at the desolate look in her brother's eyes, even on a video.

"I know what I'm doing… What I'm going to do, but I can't… I'm scared. I'm so scared, but… it can't be any worse than constantly seeing what I turned away from."

Buck ducked his head. He wiped at his eyes, gave the camera one last teary-eyed, heart-wrenching look, and then the video ended.

[...]