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Chapter 13:

Friends. Just friends.


Los Angeles

Five months

Five fucken months

Five long months without Evan Buckley

Five months of Hell

As Eddie pulls up to his house after a tense shift, he sits in his truck for a few minutes. His new fancy truck that he spent way too fucken much on. A truck that he brought using money won through illegal street fighting. Illegal street fighting where he almost killed a guy. Illegal street fighting where he envisioned hitting Buck. The truck is tainted now, him just ill thinking about it. Everything is tainted now, and Eddie means everything. The 118 is a shell of its former self, the aggrieved silence hitting Eddie like a metal baseball bat. The difference in mood and aura is so striking that it steals his breath with each step he takes in the firehouse. There's a vice grab on his throat.

To make it all worse and for some godawful reason, he's public enemy number one—besting Bobby for the title-, as if he's the cause all of this. He's not the cause of this okay. He's not the cause of this. He can't be the cause of this. He, his chest unbearable tight, can't be the one who ran off his closet friend, his best friend. His brother.

No!

Just no!

This is on Buck and his fucken Lawsuit. This silence started before Buck left. Started with that lawsuit. That ridiculous, fucken lawsuit, which fractured the 118 beyond repair. The very idea brings up so much unbridled anger in Eddie Diaz that he's drowning in it, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his head above water. Something has him by his ankles and is dragging him beneath the relentless, intense waves. Every stepped he has made has been wiped out and he's right back at the starting line. His fists are shaking at his side.

But again, this is on Buck, not him. Not him.

Eddie, when he's honest with himself, knows he's projecting, being unfair to Buck. He knows he's an unstable, ticking bomb. He knows he hasn't been fair to anyone, and yet, Eddie can't stop himself, the tiniest thing triggering him. Colorful, cruel words explode out of him in stings of sentences he doesn't recall later. This is not to say he doesn't feel guilty afterward, because he does. His stomach just drops when he notices the heartbroken and shock on the other person. However, he doesn't know how to course correct, his anger too toxic and great. There's a line of trauma in his life that he can blame this on: his time in army, his parents, Shannon leaving, Shannon's death, etc. Each left horrific scars, scars so deep that Eddie doesn't know how far they go down.

Yes, Eddie knows what everyone will say: talk to your therapist. While he can admit that therapists have helped a large number of people, he's not one of them. There's nothing they can tell him that he doesn't already know: he's a fucked up. He also knows his past with Shannon warps how he sees the lawsuit. He knows this is why he's so enraged at Buck, his abandonment issues roaring up like a hungry lion. He knows this is unfair to Buck. Yet on the other hand, he doesn't care. Buck stepped back and lobbed a bomb without a second thought, not caring who he hurt. No thought to how this would affect Christopher.

How is Eddie supposed to feel about that? How is he supposed to take that? Christopher is his everything. On his angrier days, Eddie is cursing Buck's name and says good riddance, which seems to be most of his day. On his better days, he can acknowledge his broken heart, the weight of the situation stealing his breath, and the oddness of it all is not lost on him. There's no way to describe it, and no matter how often his new therapist—the therapist Bobby is making him see to keep his job- probes him about Shannon and Buck, Eddie is silent, too bitter to be useful or honest. Every time he opens his mouth, he's all tongue, words dying in his throat.

Granted, a part of him wonders what the point is, as Buck is gone. Fucken gone. The idea is still mind blowing, and Eddie has to remind himself daily, old habits rearing up as he keeps expecting Buck to knock on his door. How could Buck just leave? He's a fucken puppy. God, that sounds bad, Eddie dejectedly thinks, banging his forehead on the steering wheel. No matter how bad it got, he never expected Buck to leave. Was he just supposed to take? Shit. Eddie doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, but Buck wasn't supposed to leave. But how long was he supposed to be your punching bag? He brutally asks himself. Was he supposed to beg at your feet until his knees bleed? The notion sickens him. Did—does he really expect that?

But you accepted it.

"Fuck," he curses, as he smacks his steering of his truck, his hand this time. "Fuck." That makes it sound like they treated Buck like shit… But didn't we? Multiple images of a quiet, shunned Buck in a distance with a mop in his hand while they laughed over dinner fills his head. A few other now painful memories surface: laser focused insults launched at a Buck whenever Buck tried to approach him. Eddie knows—knew?—Buck like the back of his hand. Knows what will hurt Buck the most. Knows that every cold, cruel word is a knife in Buck's side. Knows that isolation is the worst thing you can do to Buck, and yet, none of that stopped them. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He smacks the steering once more, his hand stinging, before he reaches for the hand on the door.

With a deep huff, he gets out of the truck—the tainted truck—and slams the door shut. With a deep breath he lets 30 seconds go by before he gathers up the will to move. The 118 is a black pit, but the same can be said about his home. His house has been too quiet, too sad. He can't recall the last time he has heard a laugh or spotted a smile. Carla, though he expects nothing less, has been giving him the colder shoulder, only speaking to Eddie when it relates to Christopher. The silence from her stings more than Eddie expects; her friendship is more important than he realizes. He misses their chats. Misses her life saving advice, her 'get out of your head, boy' comments. Misses how largely she smiled at him.

Then there's Christopher. His sweet boy.

His cold silence is the worst, Eddie's heart shattering with every muted stare. At times, the single father slips a beer and eyes his son's door, unsure of what to do. Tears fall as he recalls all of Buck and Christopher's goofy conversations. God, there's so much love between those two. Why Buck? Why? As a single father, introducing new people to his kid is scary, terrified that Christopher will get attached and the person will disappear. While Eddie would do anything to bring Shannon back, her leaving damaged Eddie in ways that he can't understand. Eddie has stayed up many nights over this, his stomach doing somersaults. This was another reason why the situation pisses Eddie off. When Christopher asks for Buck, what does he says? 'No, you can't see him. Why? Oh, Buck said fuck it and left.'

Eddie, exhaling deeply, pushes his front door of his house open and steps in. There's a weight on his chest, his heart struggling, when his and Carla's eyes meet. There's a continual look of disappointment stretched across her features. She shakes her head and turns away without saying a word. "Did everything go okay?" he asks with a weak smile.

Looking over her shoulder, Carla eyes him, heavy lines plastered across her forehead. "No, another bad day."

Ever since the lawsuit, there has been a changed in Christopher's behavior, a thick fog of sadness surrounding him. There are a few smiles here or there, though none directed at him. What Eddie didn't know at time but knows now, Buck was the reason for those rare smiles as Buck and Christopher were playing an online game together. However, when Buck disappeared, those stopped, and Christopher's sadness turned into anger.

But Eddie isn't the only receiver of this anger. Christopher has been acting out for Carla and his teachers, which worries Eddie. He made the school aware of the situation, who offered their on-campus counselor. With his own issues hanging over his head, something deep inside of him bucked. A primal fear roared up and he gave them a resounding no. His kid is not broken… Just Eddie is. However, after conversion with Carla, he called back the school and took them up on the offer. It has been a few weeks, but Christopher is still frosty.

"Where is he now?"

"His room."

"What's he doing?" Eddie asks, though he can guess. Christopher has been staring at Buck and his favorite game, waiting for Buck to come online. When Eddie first learned this, it pissed him off that Buck continued to chat with Christopher behind his back. Buck, who isn't his parent, had no right to do so without his expressed permission, and while he felt justified laying into Buck at their next shift, it's a kick to the heart now. It's especially painful when he realizes that Buck didn't return the following shift. This is your fault. Your fault. No wonder everyone leaves you.

"He's not your fucken kid, Buckley."

"Eddie…"

"Don't Eddie me! He's my kid. My kid. I get to decide what's best for him, not you. I get to decide who gets to see him. You get no say, especially when we can't trust your judgement."

"I…I just-"

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up. I don't care what you've to say. In fact, I wish you would just dis-fucken-appear. I don't know how many times I have to say it. Get lost. No one cares what happens to you. No one wants you here. We can't stand you, and nothing will change that. We will always hate you for what you did."

"Eddie..."

"Stop it! You will leave me and my son alone or else I'll get the fucken authority involve and have them charge you will harassment. You get that?"

"Y-ea… I get it."

"Staring at his tablet." Carla replies, drily, as she snaps Eddie out of his thoughts. Her eyes narrowing, she huffs as she gathers up her things. "I wasn't able to pull him away from it, but I got him to eat, so that's a plus."

"Carla," he calls softly, his shoulder slagging. "I-" His words get twisted in his mouth, his chest unbearable tight. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep, shaky breath as he counts silently to ten. "I don't…" he puffs. "I don't know what he needs." Admitting that feels like someone has slapped him across the face with a ring on. He doesn't know how to help his son.

Putting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, Carla turns to him and states wryly, "He's needs Buck."

She states it like it's the most obvious thing, but that's easier said than done. No one has any idea where Buck is, only knowing where he has been through the postcards Maddie receives. Though, she hasn't gotten one in the last month or so. Eddie doesn't know what that means, but he isn't really talking to Maddie to ask. He only heard about the postcards through Hen who heard from Chimney, who isn't talking to him. "Do you know where he is? I the hell don't." He hisses through his teeth. His voice doesn't go up, but his anger is clear.

"And who's fault is that?" Carla hums, not reacting to Eddie' fury.

Eddie breathes through him nose in an attempt to not blow up. Originally, he wasn't worried about Buck leaving and was honestly relieved, especially after learning he was talking to Christopher. The very sight of Buck set him off, his blood on fire. The consistent bugging, Eddie just snapped. The sting insults that poured out of his mouth could make his old army buddies shrink. So no, he wasn't worried at first, believing this distance would do them good. Buck would be able to pull his head out of his ass, while the 118 cools down. However, as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, Eddie's stomach turns. Reality sours. Now, they are at five fucken months, and Eddie is a mess. He bounces between sadness and anger and is never sure what's going to surge out of him. "He's the one who left."

Carla's nose flares and she huffs. "And you made it so easy for him to stay?"

Eddie's gaze dashes down the hallway toward Christopher's door and lingers. "He sued us. What were we supposed to…" The words die in his throat, snuffing the question he has asked himself many times over. There were many things he could've done instead, so many fucken things.

The look on Carla says it all, a mixture of frustration and rage, as she had this conversion with Eddie many times over. "Family is always supposed to be there, but you showed him that's a lie."

This is where Eddie stalls. He can admit that he fucked up, but he hates the idea that it's all his fault and Buck's innocent. Buck's the one who wouldn't listen to Bobby. Buck's the one who thinks he knows everything. Buck's the one who betrayed them. "Maybe, he's the one—" Stop it. Stop it. Just stop it. This won't help. This will destroy him if he lets it. "Thanks, Carla," he says instead.

"You're welcome. Tell Christopher I'll see him tomorrow." She replies. Her tone has lost her hostility, but it isn't the friendly, smiley tones he misses so much.

Eddie doesn't move until he hears the front door open and close behind him. After locking the front door, he makes his way to Christopher's room, each step a knife stab, and by the time he reaches Christopher's room, his breathing is labored like he has ran 5 miles. His brain freezes and he's at a loss of words as he stares at the back of his kid's head. Reality has already been poked him, but it slaps him across the face, stinging so much that he sees double. With the world spinning, he leans against the door frame and eyes his son, not speaking until he catches his heart.

His back to his father, Christopher, his head down, is at his desk, his hands vice gripping the tablet Buck had customized for him. His knuckles are so white that it's surprising the tablet doesn't crack, which will be the worst thing right now. With Buck gone, his son considers it his most prized procession and takes it everywhere. He checks it every 15 minutes like clockwork and without fail, regardless of where he is. He has gotten in loud arguments with his teachers over it.

After what feels like hours, Eddie goes, "Hey, Christopher." Said boy doesn't move, but Eddie knows he hears him. "I know Carla said you ate, but you want something?" Nothing. His heart breaking, he pushes off the door frame and crosses the room. "Hey, Bud, how're you doing?" Again nothing. Eddie knees down next to his son and looks up at Christopher, who doesn't meet his eyes. "Talk to me. What's going on in that head?" he asks as he pokes him softly in the forehead.

Christopher's blue eyes flicker to him for a moment before returning back to the tablet. "Leave me alone."

This isn't the first time that Eddie heard these icily words, but it gets him every time. While Christopher will always be his son, Buck and Christopher have a special bond, a bond Eddie will never fully understand. "Chris-"

"Buck's gone and it's your fault!" The boy snaps as he slaps Eddie's hand away.

"Hey, Christo-"

"No!"

Eddie breathes deeply through his nose, as he hides his shaky hand behind his back. There's a hundred of things he wants to say, but each feels wrong. Everything feels like a lie. God, why he did cut Christopher off from Buck? No matter what his relationship is with Buck, he shouldn't have let it hurt Christopher. He should not have gotten between them. In the end, he's the one who hurt his son, not Buck, even if his anger threatens to override this. "Ple-"

Christopher slams his tablet own, a loud clang violently echoing across the room, and through seer dumb luck, the screen is intact and doesn't break. However, the cover is ajar and is cracked in the corner. "Leave me alone!"

Eddie's gaze drops to the cracked cover, and the air is sudden too hot and thin to breath. He's a failure of a father, a failure of a person… a failure of a friend. Yet, he can't move his legs. "Bud, I'll-"

"I hate you." Christopher yells as he precariously jumps up to his feet. No doubt that without his desk, he would have tumbled to the ground, his legs shaky. "I hate you."

This second outburst is shaky and soft, but it hurts Eddie the most. It's a bullet, and all the resentment he has aimed at Buck disappears, leaving Eddie empty. Without his anger and self-righteousness, there's nothing else. Eddie knows anger is not his friend, it a seductive siren that will lead him to his death, but if he allows himself to feel anything, he'll be a nonverbal, crying mess on the floor, which isn't acceptable. That's one thing he learned growing up: tears aren't permitted. He has to be tough. He has to be strong. "O-okay," he utters, his voice shaky. "Okay."

Every movement is a struggle, every fiber of his being screaming out in protest. Eddie has no idea what to do, no idea how to make this better. As he watches his son wobble back and forth on his feet, he can't help but wonder if his parents are right: Christopher belongs with them. "Okay." He repeats again as he throws his arms in the air and heads to the door. It's a battle not to look back, though he doesn't win that fight. He glances over his shoulder to Christopher, who is slowly and unsteadily resettling in his chair.

Though it feels like he's stepping on his own heart, he tells his son he loves him and closes the door, his hands trembling. He doesn't allow his thoughts to wander and heads straight to his sofa, and with a pained huff, he falls back into the cushions. Christopher's words are a noose around his neck, and it's hard to breathe. What the fuck is he going to do? How the fuck can he fix this? How the fuck does he help his son? Why he is such a fuck up?

With his heart in his throat, he reaches for the phone in his pocket. There's only one person who that can help his son: Buck, but… he isn't here. Anger roars up in his belly for a second before he smashes it down. Buck isn't here, but maybe, there is someone else who can help. He scrolls throw his name and presses dial when he finds the name he wants.


*O*O*


Chicago

Buck's panic still fresh on his mind, Kelly books it to his Mustang and takes off down the road, driving faster than he normally would. He spots a few police vehicle along the way and says a silent pray with each, which must be working as no blue or red flash behind him. However, he, his heart pounding, doesn't let out a sign of relief until gets his sights on Buck, who looks like a kicked puppy on the side of the road. A protective lion surges up and demands answers. However-Yes, however, Kelly isn't going to poke at Buck, who's looking pretty skittish. He's just going to be the friend that Buck needs. Friend. The word echoes in Kelly's head, but he doesn't allow himself to mull over the tickle in his gut.

Instead, he pulls up to the curb, rolls down his passenger window, and studies the stiff ex-Floater, Buck too distracted to notice his arrival, for a second before he calls out to him. The man is lost in his own head, and with his ghostly gaze on his hands, he almost blends completely into the gray background as the crowd walks pass him, oblivious to his pain. Whatever happened, that heaviness from when Buck first popped up is back and Kelly is really to throw punches. Seriously, this gets his blood boiling. Stop it. Kelly breathes through his nose and forces himself to exhale that anger right out of him. Buck doesn't need his anger. He needs a friend. With a deep breath, he puts on an over-the-top grin. "O, Buckley!" He yells, as his cheeks ache. "Your chariot has arrived."

Buck's head popping up, his gaze is wild and frantic as he searches for Kelly, who spots the exact moment Buck sees his car. It's magical to see the sudden change in Buck, the weight on his shoulders vanishing and a lightness appearing. When Buck jumps to his feet, he is back to his smiling fix foot self. "Lieutenant," he calls, his voice uneven, as he quickly sprints to the mustang.

Kelly's title on Buck's tongue irks him. "Kelly." He offers when Buck reaches the passenger side door.

"What?" Buck asks, his eyes large in confusion.

"Kelly." He restates as he leans over the center console. "When off duty call, me Kelly."

"Um, okay, K-Kelly." A tint of pink graces Buck's face as he bends down, meeting Kelly's eyes.

A familiar warm sensation creeps up Kelly's spine, his stomach cartwheeling. He has been in a lot of relationships—though that is a stretch for most-, but he can only count a number of times he has felt like this. Ogling all of those men made it clear that he's attracted to Buck and only Buck. This feeling in his gut—the need to protect and help him—solidified that. "G-getting in?" he croaks.

Buck's eyes go wide before his glaze drops to the door. "Yep," he shutters as he opens the door to the mustang.

Kelly settles back into seat and reminds mostly still, watching the man slip into the seat. While the heaviness in Buck is gone, there's still an uneasiness in him, a skittishness. Once Buck is in and the door is closed, Kelly angles himself. "Buckle up, Buckley. I tend to go a bit fast." He teases.

"Oh, really?" Buck grins as he throws down his stuff his duffel down by his feet.

While he doesn't normally rev his engine, Kelly does it here, pressing his foot down on the gas petal. Kelly's lopsided grin grows as the Mustang's engine roars. "I feel a need, a need for speed."

Buck blinks twice before he blushingly laughs for a solid minute. "Okay…so." He pops out his bottom lip, stressing the so.

Kelly eyes the beautiful, bashful smile on his face and has to stop himself from swooning. "So… What?"

"I…um… never saw…um… Top Gun."

"Oh, really?" Kelly responds, his eyebrow rose. "That's a classic!" His jaw hurting from smiling, he turns away, his glaze on the street, and shifts the car into drive. He follows the traffic with his head. "Sounds like we need a movie night. What other movies do we need to add to the list?" He hums and shots Buck a quick look before he pulls out.

Buck meets the quick glance before looking forward. "You're not the first one who tried to get me to watch it."

"Tried? So, I take it they failed?" Kelly grins, his eyes forward on the road.

"Yep." Buck chuckles. "He took it as a personal offense."

Kelly snorts. "Understandable. It's a good movie."

"So, he said."

Kelly has made a promise not to push, to allow Buck to open up on his own, but it so goddamn tempting. It isn't just the bad; he wants to know everything. "Who is this friend? Seems like we would get along."

Buck glances over, his eyes falling to Kelly's jawline, and chews on his bottom lips. "Um…for some reason, I don't think you and Steve talking would be good thing." His head abruptly spins away as a look of horror falls to his face, his eyes saucers. "Nope not at all."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"No!" Buck, cherry face, exclaims loudly, rubbing at his nose. "It's… just…you and Steve are…um…a lot alike."

His eyes forward, Kelly isn't sure what to make of that, but he supposes it can't be a negative thing…unless this Steve is the person who hurt Buck. "Oh, really?"

Something flashes across the ex-floater's face, his entire aura shifting. It's striking. "Yup." Buck stretches out the word, a small smile on his face. However, smile doesn't stay. His eyes glaze over as his attention wanders, mindlessly watching the people on the sidewalk.

Shit. What the hell just happen? Is this about this Steve person? Or something else? Kelly waits to see if Buck would offer anything else, but he doesn't and silence falls. Kelly recognizes the pattern. He lingers at each street light, waiting for Buck to say something. "The fire station?" he offers.

"Yup." Again, a short answer. A second goes by before Buck opens his mouth to speak, though nothing comes out. Closing his mouth, he inhales and lets out a deep breath through his nose. He opens his mouth once again, words coming out this time. "Thanks for picking me up, L—Kelly."

"That's what friends do." Buck's head bobs up and down, but only he does is stare out the window, which Kelly doesn't know what to do with it. And honestly, it bugs the shit out of him. He knows he shouldn't, but man, how can he sit back and do nothing? No, Kelly can't do that. He can't sit back and not say anything as it's not in his DNA, consequences be damned. Kelly, his heart in throat, drives for a few minutes, fighting with that urge.

A more awkward silence falls, as Kelly peeps repeatedly over at Buck, who stares intently at the road. What the hell happened? One minute they were chatting away, laughing, but in a flash, it's gone. What is he scare of? Sure, when Kelly pulled up, something threatened to rip him apart, but this is different. It's like he realizes he's revealing too much and snaps back, which appears to be common for the young Firefighter. When Kelly comes up to a red light and his mustang comes to a stop, his eyes drill into the side of Buck's face. "Screw it." Kelly utters loudly, snapping Buck to him.

"What?" Buck articulates slowly though loudly, his voice cracking.

Kelly glances at his rear view mirror, scanning for cars, before he harshly jerks the steering wheel, making a sharp right down side street. He has no specific area in mind, but he wants to get off the main street. Zippering around, he drives until he sees an available space. He jerks the wheel again when he sees a spot and pulls in, his parking job shit. Normally, he puts more care into his parking his baby, but right now, he's on the mission. Once he shifts the mustang into park, he turns his intense stare onto Buck, who just stares wide eye back.

"Lie- Kelly? Is…Um…What?" It's all that Buck can manage.

For a while, Kelly just stares, eyeing every twitch. Every blink. Every flash of his pretty blue eyes. "Buck…" He takes a deep breath. Why is he suddenly breathing hard? Why is his heart threatening to pop out of his chest? "Evan…" he unintentionally shifts to Buck's first name. He forces himself to take a deep breath before he goes, "Okay. What's wrong? What happened with Ruzek?" It's a struggle to keep his voice soft.

Buck closes his eyes and lets out a large puff of air. "I-it's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it bothers you." Kelly can only describe Buck's face as the blue screen of death. The ex-floater, stress lines stretched across his forehead (making him look ten years older), is processing the words as if they have spouted legs and are dancing in front of him.

Eventually, Buck slams his mouth shut and takes a large deep breath before he goes, "I-I don't know…." He drifts off.

Against his better judgement, Kelly reaches over. His hands bobbles in midair for a moment, his first target being Buck's knee, before he gently places it on his shoulder. "Everyone at 51 is here for you." A pause. "I'm here for you." Kelly throws it out and just waits, as he counts the multiple expressions that pass across Buck's face. If the situation was different, it would've been comical how many times a red-faced Buck has opened and closed his mouth. "And I'm not going anywhere." There's nothing in the world that would change that.

"I…um…"

"I mean it."

Buck swallows the lump in the air in his throat. "I…" He takes a deep, shaky breath, which travels own his entire body. "T-Thanks." He barely manages, fighting back the sob that threatens to take over.

Kelly tilts his head to the side and squeezes Buck's shoulder, his heart in his hand. "No thanks needed. Just talk to me."

"Ad—Ruzek…" Nodding, Buck exhales deeply. "Officer. Ruzek. Got. Me. helping. Out. With. This. Case. he's. working. out." There's a pause with each word, an attempt not to run his words together.

While Casey and he guessed this when they spotted Ruzek, it still stuns Kelly, and to be honest, he's pissed about it. Is Ruzek just randomly pulling people into his assignments? He chokes on his anger for a second before he shoves it down. "What kind of case?"

"I don't know. He just has me playing his friend, the firefighter." Buck's voice is frazzled. There's a world of hurt on his face, a story that could probably fill three books.

Kelly has so many questions, so many. Shit, where does he begin? He goes back and forth on a few questions, but he settles with this, "How did this start?" His hand falls from Buck's shoulder to his leg as he angles himself to get a better view of Buck's face.

Buck's glaze drops to Kelly's hand before it zips to his own hands in his lap, him mindlessly picking at his nails. "When I was floating at firehouse 40, Officer Ruzek was at one of the crash scenes, and I saved his life from a speeding car."

A familiar night rolls back to Kelly and a recognizable warmth floats through him, heating even his toes. A memory from the night he worked the knot out of Buck's shoulder pops forward, and it takes a moment for his recollection to clear as he's too distractive by the memory of Buck's skin under his fingers. It's the night that Buck mentioned saving two people from speeders, while mocking Chicago Drivers. One of must have been Ruzek. "How did that turn into this?"

"I spotted Ruzek at my apartment, talking to someone, and did a double take when I saw him. Unbeknownst to me, he was uncovered, and my double take almost blew his cover as the guy he was talking to noticed and started asking questions. It was at that point that Ruzek," Buck pauses and takes a deep breath. "Made up a story that we were old friends, old friends with a 'dirty' past." His expression sours over the word.

The word 'dirty' is thick with severe implications, and while Kelly wants to ask what exactly this past is, he doesn't technically need to. No doubt Ruzek made up a stretchy past for them. "Okay." He allows a fat pause to fall as he cools the fire in his belly. "How did you end up on the side of the street needing a ride?" Kelly's glaze falls to Buck's hands.

Buck closes his eyes and take another deep breath. "I…" He shakes his head and doesn't say anything.

"Evan." Again, the name is odd on Kelly's tongue, but it feels right.

When Buck glances up at Kelly, there's a shimmer to his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Idiot." This is clearly directed at himself. "I knew this is a case for Adam, but I…" He's fighting back a large wet sob. "I just wanted a friend. Hadn't had one in a while."

The sheer sadness in Buck's voice is a dagger through Kelly's heart, and an intense protective urge roars up inside of him—not that the protective urge hasn't already been there. However, he's ready to go to jail over this, fucking over whoever hurt Evan Buckley. "Hey," he speaks softly as his hand moves to Buck's knee and squeezes.

Buck haphazardly sucks in a large puff and pushes down a painful sob. "God, I'm an idiot. I confused Ruzek's offer for breakfast for friendship, when he just wanted me there for his cover."

"Well, you have a firehouse full of friends now, so screw him." Kelly squeezes Buck's knee again. "Any one of us will love to chill." Buck nods but remains quiet. The more he talks with Buck, the more Buck's weird behavior makes sense, though he is left with more questions. Unconsciously, his thumb begins to move in a cyclical motion, massaging the tensed muscle. "You're not alone anymore." He inhales deeply and adds, "I'm not going anywhere no matter what, Evan."

Buck's mouth opens to speak, but the words are a jumbled mess. He forces his mouth shut and takes a deep breath. A second passes before he rips around, staring Kelly right in the eyes. "Thank you."

Again, Kelly is struck by the emotions shimmering beneath the surface, the pure gratitude intoxicating. There's a solace in his intense stare that hasn't been there before, and Kelly drinks it up. "You don't need to thank me."

"But I do." Buck leans into the touch. "You came without question."

As Kelly stares at Buck's beaming eyes, he's struck by the realization, not that it's much of a realization at this point. He is attractive to Buck and only Buck, but it's more than that. This goes deeper than a simpler attraction. However, he doubts Buck has that same realization. "I'll always come, no hesitation." He leans back in the chair, his heart skipping when he finally realizes what's he's doing to Buck's leg. "Unlike Ruzek."

Buck's grateful smile disappears and is replaced by a frown, which Kelly takes a personal offense to. "Not Adam's fault."

Kelly's noise flares but he keeps his comments to himself as Buck's not in the right head space for an argument. Why is Buck going out of his way to absolve Ruzek? Nevertheless, Kelly faults him, which he will make clear to Ruzek. "Does Boden know?"

His blue, shimmering eyes on his knee—the one Kelly once held-, Buck bites on his bottom lip. "I don't know. I was told they would let the CFD know, but I have no idea if they told Boden."

"We're telling Boden." Kelly announces, his tone leaving no room for arguments. The engine turns over as he twists the ignition key. "Telling him right now."

*O*O*

Nervously biting down on his lip, Buck is all jitters, his right leg bouncing up and down like a pogo stick. After Sev—Kelly's and his conversion, Buck feels leveled, the fog of the last few months lessened and the vice grab around his heart loosened, but Boden's laser focus drills a quarter inch through his heart. Kelly keeps close, standing a foot from Buck. So close, that his cologne soaks Buck, dosing him for the second time. After telling Boden about the Ruzek situation, Chief has gone silent, his arms folded across his chest. "So, this started out as a simple identity confirmation, but now, Officer Ruzek is actively drawing you in." he finally says after a few minutes.

Buck has intentionally not mentioned his Navy Seals days or his body count, still feeling raw from the reminder. "I supposed he is. Didn't realize his offer for food was a 'business meeting.'" He doesn't put air quotes on them, but he envisions them in his head. Granted, he probably would have still gone.

Boden folds his hand under his chin, his eyes in narrow points. "Unacceptable." He spits out, his jaw verbally stiff.

That solace Kelly gave him is gone, and Buck's chest goes ice cold. "Sir, I'm-"

"I need to speak with Sergeant Voight. This is unacceptable." Boden gruffs, his voice rough but stern, his hand itching toward his desk phone. "My men aren't his pawns in his game."

A several moments pass before it dawns on Buck. Oh, shit, Boden isn't mad at him. He's mad at this Sergeant, which leaves Buck a bit lopsided. He's self-aware enough to know this is a conditioned response he has learned from the 118, but it seems like a task that will require some herculean strength to overcome. "Chief, I'm s-" He starts, his knee still bouncing.

Kelly's warm glaze is solely on Buck, eyeing his pounding chest. "Buck."

Just like that, that tension in Buck's dissipates at the song of his name on Kelly's tongue. Buck takes a deep breath before he goes, "Sir, I agreed to help in the first place because-"

Boden holds up his hand. "No need to explain. I understand, but I won't allow this to proceed without transparency. Not letting one of my men going in blind."

While Buck is extremely grateful for Kelly's friendship—yes, friendship, Buckley!-, Boden's words hold much more weight considering he knows about the lawsuit. "Understood." Buck's uneasiness has nothing to with going in blind, his training (Both firefighting and the seals) burnt that out of him, even if his stomach twists at the thought of killing someone. When needed, he has nerves of steel, not that it helped him with the 118. With them, he is all nerves, but he never had an issue with running into a burning building.

*O*O*

After taking with Boden, Kelly offers to walk Buck to his Jeep, but Buck vigorously declines. No, it isn't because he wants to Kelly to wrap his arms around him and never let go. God, is this man perfect? The entire time in the car, Buck thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He tried to resist the urge to swoon, but shit, his skin still burns in the spots that Kelly touched him. When Kelly smiled and shined his pretty green—there's a bit of blue in them—eyes at him, a little voice at the back of his head chanted 'Kiss him, Kiss him.' Buck didn't listen, but he wanted—wants- to, even if there are a million reasons not to.

One, Buck isn't in a right head space for a relationship

Two, he's pretty sure he doesn't have the right equipment for the Lieutenant.

However, he declines because he's a big boy, who can walk to his car on his own. He can also make it to his apartment without an assist. While he doesn't enjoy it, he can handle himself in a fight, and he doesn't need someone hovering. He needs friends. He needs Firehouse 51, the house already weaving its way into his heart. On the way home—even with the exhaustion-, he spots a familiar tail a few cars back, but he loses them quickly enough and makes it back to his apartment in no time. With a full body yawn, he parks the Jeep and slowly treks it up the steps.

Miss Isabel Jackson is at her door when Buck walks pass her apartment. "You're late." While it sounds a bit accusatory, heavy concern laces though her voice.

Buck smiles as he stops briefly at her door. "Just went out with a friend."

"The only thing you need is your bed, Boy. You look hideous." Miss Jackson grins cheekily, as she holds out an egg sandwich.

Considering how heavy each limbs feels, there's no denying that. "Lies all lies. I always look good." He shines his pretty blue eyes at him, as he accepts the sandwich from her. As soon as Buck's head meets his pillow, he will be out.

Miss Jackson loudly shoos him away, telling him to go to bed, which he doesn't fight her on. He waves the sandwich at her as he turns and sluggishly climbs the steps. The friendly neighborhood teen is nowhere to be found, which Buck is grateful for. He's all talked out. When he steps into his apartment, he's huffing, and autopilot takes over as the door closes behind him. Tossing his duffel to the side, Buck—teetering/hopping on one foot- wiggles out his right work boot. It takes a few attempts before the boot flies across the small room and slaps the wall with a loud thump. Ungracefully, he shifts the other foot and does the same.

Peeling off his now smelly socks and dumping them on the ground, he crosses to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator, though just long enough to toss in the sandwich. Bypassing the bathroom and a nice warm shower, he drags himself to the bed and allows gravity to take him down, landing with a bounce. He's just shy of the pillow, but he doesn't adjust himself, only fishing for his phone in his pocket. There's are several texts from Kelly. Buck knows he should ignore them, but his exhaustion is not great enough to ignore his heart.

'I'm here if you need a friend.'

'If you need anything, let me know.'

'Hey, if you feel up to it, join us at Molly's tonight.'

Buck forgets how many times he has been invited to Molly's, and he doubts it will be the last, but he's not sure if he is ready for that just yet, especially when he spots a few messages from Adam.

'Hey, Buddy. Sorry for earlier. Shouldn't have done that. Can we chat?"

Boden had attempted to contact Voight while they were in his office, but it went to voicemail after ringing for a minute. While he doesn't know if Adam's text is related, he can't help but wonder. Pushing those thoughts aside, Buck replies to Adam's message.

'Later. I need to sleep.'

After the message, Buck tosses his phone aside, paying no attention where it landed. He throws his arms across his face and closes his eyes. It doesn't take long before he is out, his exhaustion winning out.


Author Note

Why yes I add make a new work: Dis-fucking-appear

1) I never tended to write Eddie's POV, but I wanted to show how Christoper is doing. He's, poor Chris. However, I was too chicken to write Christoper as I was worried about writing him too childish. Granted, I gave myself the difficult task of writing Eddie.

2) Why yes, Kelly and Buck are cute, both wanting to kiss each other.

let me know what you think!