What the fuck is he doing?

He's asked himself that same question for the last four hundred miles.

What the fuck is he doing?

It's Christmas, and he's on I-10 in the middle of the fucking night somewhere near Tucson, Arizona.

Losing his damn mind.

He glances in the rearview mirror where Christopher is slumped over against the side of the cab, worn out and sound asleep. He'd barely spoken to Eddie since they got on the road hours ago.

"Why are we going to see Abuela and Abuelito now? I'm gonna miss Christmas with Buck!"

"We're not spending Christmas with Buck."

"We always spend Christmas with him!"

"Yeah, well, he's spending it with Taylor this year."

"I don't like her." His emotional, stressed-out child took the words right out of Eddie's mouth. "She's ruining everything!"

"Watch your mouth, mijo."

"No! It's true."

He turns and shuffles out of the living room, banging his crutches on the floor harder than necessary. And, damned, if he isn't right, but since he's the adult, Eddie can't tell him that. Instead, he pitches a throw pillow across the room as hard as he can and knocks over the lamp. He clenches his fists so hard his nails leave crescents in his palms and forces himself to count to ten. He walks over, rights the lamp then heads to his room to pack.

Now here they are. Screwed, and he doesn't have the slightest idea how to fix things. He bangs the wheel with the heel of his hand.

"Fuck," he hisses

"You're not supposed to say that word."

He looks in the rearview mirror again and meets his son's eyes. "You're right. Sorry about that."

"Why are we going to Texas if it's making you mad?"

"Because. It's the only way I know to fix things. I don't want you worrying about me all the time, wondering if I'm going to come home. I quit my job."

Never has silence sounded so loud.

Eddie looks in the mirror again. Christopher's head is down, and it looks like… it looks like he's shaking.

Fuck. Eddie flips on his blinker and pulls onto the side of the road, well out of the way of any traffic. He throws himself out of the driver's seat, and yanks open the back door, unclipping Christopher's seatbelt. Instead of moving toward him, Christopher starts hitting him.

"I'm so mad at you! Why did you do it? Why are you taking me away? Was I bad?"

Stunned, Eddie can only stand there and stare as his son breaks down in the backseat.

He reaches for him and this time hauls him into his arms, grabbing both of the boy's hands in one of his and holding them against his chest. Tears fill Eddie's eyes as he listens to hysterical sobbing and scrambled words.

It takes several minutes for Christopher to calm down, and all Eddie can do is hold him. The interstate traffic continues to zoom by, rocking them and the truck in the gusts of wind sweeping past. It's pitch black along the road, the only light coming from the truck cab. He grabs a handful of tissues from the seat pocket and leans back far enough to help him blow his nose.

"Stop." Christopher swats his hand away.

"I'm just trying to help. Here." Eddie hands him the tissues. "Can you tell me what's going on? I thought this was what you wanted? For me not to be in danger?"

Christopher doesn't answer right away, his head down, quiet sniffles filling the space. "I don't want you to take me away. Are you mad at me? Is that why we're leaving?"

Eddie cups his hands around his son's face and urges his head up so he can see his eyes, wet behind the glasses. "You haven't done a thing wrong, and I'm definitely not mad at you. You said you wanted Christmas to be perfect and for me not to get hurt. I don't know how else to do that for you. I'm at a loss here, mijo. To tell you the truth, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just trying to make things right for you."

Christopher wipes his nose and takes off his glasses, squinting at him. "I do want you to be safe. I miss my mom. But I miss everyone else. They're our family, Dad. And what about all the people you help? You love your job."

"But I love you more, Christopher. You're more important to me than anything else on the planet. You come before my job. I'm doing the best I can here. I know I'm screwing things up, but I'm trying to keep it all together." It's probably the most he's ever said to his son about his own feelings.

"You never tell me things, but I know you're sad. You don't smile like you used to. And my Buck doesn't come see us like before."

"He's been busy - I told you that."

"Dad, he's not too busy for me. Have you asked him?"

"I don't want to bother him."

Christopher gives him a look only the way a kid can - like how did I end up with the dumbest Dad on the planet?

"Daaad…"

"I'm happy as long as you and me are a team."

"Me, too, but that's not all."

Eddie brushes tears from the baby-soft cheeks. Christopher reaches up a shaking hand and does the same, rubbing against the stubble on Eddie's chin as he wipes away tears Eddie doesn't realize he's cried.

"What do you mean?"

Christopher gives him another look. "One day, I'm gonna grow up and go to college."

Eddie can't help but start laughing, wiping his eyes on his arm. "Where did that come from?"

"You need to have friends and your own stuff."

"I can do that in El Paso."

"Dad, we have a family, and we have Carla. You have a best friend. What is he going to do without us? What about my school and my friends? I like it where we are. We have Buck, and I'm really mad at you for taking me away on Christmas."

The soft words take the wind right out of Eddie's sails, and he slumps forward, resting his head on Christopher's. "I'm sorry, Chris, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make things better for you. That's all I was thinking about."

"You didn't ask me what I wanted."

Eddie lifts his head and meets Christopher's earnest gaze. "You're right, I didn't, and I'm sorry. You and me are supposed to be a team, and I guess I thought you were too young to understand. It's my job to keep things from hurting you."

"Daadd, I"m ten. I know things. I want you to be happy, too. You won't be happy away from Buck."

Eddie draws in a deep breath and runs his hands through Christopher's hair to cup the back of his head, and then he kisses his forehead. "How did you get so smart?"

Several minutes later, the truck was headed back to California.

XXXXXXXXXX

It's almost four in the morning when he bangs on the door, knowing he's probably waking them up since both vehicles are in the driveway. The door swings open, and he meets Bobby's shocked eyes.

"I can't do it."

There are already tears in Eddie's eyes, and Bobby opens his arms to him; no words needed. Eddie falls against the older man, completely undone.

"We were halfway to Texas," he rasps against Bobby's shoulder, therefore missing the surprised look on the other man's face.

"Texas?"

"Yeah, stupid, I know," Eddie chokes out. "I think running away is all I know how to do."

"You don't have to do it anymore," Bobby murmurs, rubbing his back. "But you are going to take some time off."

Eddie nods against his shoulder.

"What made you come back?"

Eddie lifts his head, using the hem of his shirt to wipe his eyes. "Finally talking to my son."

Bobby smiles fondly. "He must take after his dad."

Eddie snorts and shakes his head. "I don't know where he gets it, but it's not from me. I'm so screwed up, Cap."

Bobby takes a step back but keeps his hands on Eddie's arms. "You're going to get past this, Eddie. You need some time and someone to help carry the load. I told you once that you don't have to lose everything to let yourself feel something."

"I came close to throwing it away this time."

"But you didn't - that's what matters. You came back and asked for help."

Eddie pulls Bobby to him again, feeling some of the pieces click into place. He nods and pulls back. "Thank you - for supporting me."

"Always," Bobby answers.

"Sorry to wake you."

"Don't be. I'm glad you did. I think there's someone else you need to go see."

"Is he working?"

"Yep. He wasn't supposed to, but he volunteered at the last minute." After the party, after your announcement, after…whatever.

Whether Bobby meant it or not, Eddie hears the unspoken message.

Eddie parks next to Buck's Jeep and turns to look over the seat at Christopher. His fantastic kid holds up both thumbs in support with a huge grin. Eddie sends a text to Bobby - we're here.

Bobby's response - Standby.

Buck heard the text chime and dug his phone out of his pocket. His brows draw together when he reads Bobby's message.

I left something at the Jeep for you. You need to go get it now. You're welcome.

Buck pushes the phone back into his pocket and heads out the side door. He stumbles to a halt as he comes around the corner of the building where their cars are parked.

"Merry Christmas, Buck!"

His feet are moving before he even knows it, and he meets the young boy halfway, falling to his knees to grab him up in a tight hug. Christopher squeezes Buck's neck with all his strength, his giggles the best music in the world. Buck meets Eddie's eyes as he steps closer to the pair. Eddie holds out his hand, and Buck takes it, pulling Eddie down into the hug with them. Eddie holds his son with one arm and wraps the other arm around Buck's shoulders, resting his cheek against the back of Buck's head.

"I - I don't understand," Buck whispers, his arm tightening around Eddie's waist.

"I'll explain it to you later." The words are spoken softly near Buck's ear.

"Dad was taking us to Texas!" Christopher interrupts.

Eddie huffs a laugh and curls his fingers around Buck's neck. Buck pulls back from Christopher and turns so he can see Eddie's face.

"Texas? You were going to Texas?"

Eddie made himself hold Buck's incredulous gaze, made himself see the pain there, and accept it. "I didn't say it was a good idea," he mutters.

"What.. uh-what made you come back?"

Eddie tilts his head at Christopher and ruffles his hair. "He did."

"I told him we couldn't leave you," Christopher grins, totally unaware of how those sweet words pierce Buck's heart. "Merry Christmas, Bucky."

Buck tilts his head forward against Christopher's, sliding one big hand to the back of his head. "Merry Christmas, buddy."

Eddie reaches out and puts his own hand over Buck's on the back of his son's head. Another piece clicked into place. "I screwed up," he admits, meeting two sets of eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore, and I need help."

"All you ever have to do is ask."