Having Eddie at his side was natural, now. It always has been, ever since the grenade and the ambulance and "You can have my back any day." It was natural to be at Eddie's side, so it was natural for Buck to glance at him as they picked their way through shattered glass and bent frames. Eddie glanced back and raised a brow. He didn't need words for Buck to understand.
'You think we'll find anything?'
Buck pursed his lips and tilted his head slightly in Eddie's direction. He didn't need words for Eddie to understand.
'We might.'
Eddie lifted one shoulder in a half-assed shrug, and they continued. The car that had crashed into the mirror hall was still there, half in and half out of the hall and covered in glass shards. Those shards glittered like stars as Buck moved, the various light sources reflecting and refracting all over the damn place. Nothing against mirror halls or carnival mazes, there was just something… off. The entire hall felt off, like a predator lying in wait for some poor sap to stumble into its trap.
Eddie seemed to sense it too, if his carefully placed footsteps and cautious glances around the hall were anything to go by. Bobby sent them in to do a last sweep to be sure there were no other injured parties in the hall. Maybe it was a little more of an empty job since there wasn't an overload of clean up to be done outside.
They were sent in first, so they had no way of knowing something would go wrong.
Buck was busy checking under the car when he heard the delicate tinkling of glass. Only it wasn't so much delicate as it was, somehow, satisfied. He frowned and lifted his head to ask Eddie if he'd heard it too, but Eddie was gone. Buck's frown deepened. He stood up fully and looked around. There was nowhere to hide in the mirror hall, but Eddie was gone. It wasn't right.
Having Eddie at his side was natural now. Being alone was wrong. Eddie didn't leave without no warning. That wasn't him, but the predator in the buzzing air felt satisfied somehow, and that was chilling.
Slowly, Buck edged forwards to where he had last seen his best friend. Amber lights filled the hall with a sort of haze. Buck turned to slip his wide shoulders through the frame of a thin, shattered mirror, and promptly blacked out.
•••
Buck wasn't sure what had happened. He got used to the loops quickly. Maybe that was a bad thing. Relieving the sniper, Eddie's blood on his hands, and then the spat that had happened in Howie's Grocery Store… That was awful. He couldn't change anything. No one remembered the future, or the way they grew into better, wiser people. No one remembered or knew Buck as he was now, so they didn't understand him.
Buck wasn't sure what had happened.
By the time he ran into Chimney though—the real, present Chimney, which happened in Buck's third loop—he knew that 1) he was stuck in some sort of supernatural trap and 2) it was the worst thing he'd ever experienced. Buck didn't want to think about how the rest of his family could get stuck too. Eddie must have been caught; that's why he disappeared. Now Chimney. And what of Hen and Bobby? Ravi and Lucy? What if they fell into the trap too? They would all be missing from the real world. Buck had to hope they would make it back there in the first place.
Fuck.
Fate loved them. Fate loved to torture them and then run for the hills when confronted.
The loop with Chimney was nice. It was an unexpected, welcome break from the heartache and guilt. Chimney didn't know what was coming. He'd said it was his first loop. He had no idea what was coming. There was only so much you could take before it became too much. Before it all became too much.
They weren't made for this. No one could be made for this, but why would fate care? Fate existed to love them. To pick them above anyone else and say, "Them. I want to hurt them." To cradle them and wipe away the tears and blood and let it all be done.
The loop didn't last long. Not like the one Buck had had before; that one had lasted hours. No, instead this loop ended with an explosion of colour and a mess of sensations. Just like before. Just like every coming loop. Buck got used to the loops quickly.
When the spinning slowed to a stop, Buck kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see where he was now. He didn't want any of it. He wanted to be back in the mirror hall. Back to where his family knew him. Not his past mistakes or one of his many stops on the way to becoming who he was now. Him. Buck as he was now had grown since being Buck as he was then. In any of the thens he'd experienced so far.
Buck just wanted to go home. Was that so much to ask?
The sick feeling in his gut had nothing to do with the spinning from the loop changing. Buck could handle spinning; that kind of movement came with the job, sometimes. Seeing his family hurt or hurting was something else though. As soon as he opened his eyes, Buck knew it would be a bit of both this time. He knew where he was.
He hadn't been in Boston in years. Ever since Maddie had given him the keys to free himself and he had fled. Buck remembered this scene very well, sitting in the driver's seat of the jeep that was now his, staring back the way he had come. He'd stayed in the hospital parking lot for an hour, holding on to some splintering thread of hope that Maddie would change her mind again. That she'd come running out like she knew he'd been waiting.
She never did, so after the itch under his skin had grown too big to ignore, Buck had taken the defeat and left.
Without her.
He knew he wouldn't make that mistake again. Not if this was some sick, twisted attempt at a second chance to right everything Buck had done wrong. He wouldn't lose this chance, no matter how much he wanted to just curl up and wait for all of this mess to be over. Buck wanted to go home, but home was always more of a people, for him, and he was never very good at just standing by.
That's what led him to storm back into the hospital. He almost froze in the doorway, because he hadn't been back here ever since Maddie left him a note and the keys to freedom and he hadn't even questioned it. He'd hesitated, but he hadn't questioned it. That wasn't going to happen again. Buck wasn't going to run this time. He couldn't, because he knew now and there was no way he could leave Maddie behind. He'd let go far too easily the first time. This time, Buck was going to fight tooth and nail to drag Maddie out of Boston.
If he was given enough time, anyway.
The receptionist, Omar, looked up when Buck approached. He frowned, seeing him, but he didn't look anything other than confused.
"You okay?" he asked worriedly.
Buck pursed his lips and prayed that this could work. "I need to know where Maddie is."
Omar winced slightly. "I— She asked me not to—"
"I know why she won't see me," Buck broke in. He was older than he had been the first time. He knew things he hadn't known before. Omar's wince grew and Buck went on. "I know what Doug does to her. That's why I need her to come with me."
"Evan, I don't…"
It was Buck's turn to wince. Evan. He hadn't heard that name in a long time. Maybe he'd forgotten it. Evan was a young man with no place to fit into. No friends to become family and no place to lay down his roots. Evan had grown up. Had grown wiser. Changed, but never changed at all, if you will, because at his core, Buck was still Evan.
Evan never stopped reaching for what he was after. Why would Buck?
Omar had trailed off. His lips pulled into a thin line, and he seemed to be considering something. It only took a few seconds. Then, without a word, Omar walked around the reception desk and gestured for Buck to follow him down the hall.
They didn't speak as they walked. Let gestures be enough where words wouldn't come. Omar looked like he didn't know what to say. Buck didn't either. What did you say when all you wanted was to do what was best for someone you cared about? 'Thank you' didn't feel like enough.
Omar led him to the staff room. He stopped at the door and looked at Buck.
"Just… It's bad," the man said hesitantly. Buck's expression screwed up into a wince and Omar nodded in agreement, a wince of his own on his lips. "Kendall was angry with her. Maddie— Maddie didn't think you knew…"
"I know." Buck's voice was a rasp. His throat was dry, he couldn't help it. "She never wanted me to know."
Omar nodded again. "Get her out of here, Evan. Maybe she'll listen to you."
Buck pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. This time, he wasn't leaving without Maddie. Omar seemed to accept that, because, with the smallest of relieved smiles, he nodded one last time and then turned to walk back the way they had come. Buck watched him go and wondered if Maddie—his Maddie, back in a life that felt a world away—had kept in contact with him. Omar was a good friend.
Now alone, Buck turned back to the staff room door. He took a deep breath to steady what nerves he had and silently opened the door. Maddie was sitting at the table in the center of the room, back to the door and head down. Buck closed the door behind him, but never took his eyes off his sister as he moved closer.
"Maddie," he said softly, and her head shot up in alarm.
She looked over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw him. She rose to her feet quickly, bruised expression pulling into a grimace as she moved and Buck just stopped. He didn't know where to start. He'd run, the first time. He'd left without thinking, and now he was seeing what he'd done. He'd left Maddie to this.
"Evan—"
The loop broke. It felt like being sucked upwards while gravity grabbed at your ankles. Colours stretched the same way, melding together until there was nothing but smears and splotches all around.
Buck wanted to scream. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that the loop showed him what he'd left, and then shoved him along before he could fix it. He couldn't do this; this seeing everything he'd failed and not being able to change it. What was the point of reliving all of this if he couldn't fix it? It wasn't just for torment, was it? Fate couldn't be that cruel.
Please.
Please, fate couldn't be that cruel.
Fate loved them, after all.
When Buck landed, it was to find himself in his jeep, parked in a place he hadn't been to in a long time. Again. It was dark outside this time, though. There was nothing that easily pointed out exactly when this was, but Buck hadn't been here in a long time, so he had a general idea of when this was. It had been a number of years since Maddie had her own apartment.
With nothing better to do, Buck climbed out of the jeep and decided to see if Maddie was home. He would have been living with her at this point, so he could get past the security gate. Maybe he'd be able to talk with Maddie this time.
That hope was quickly killed when Buck saw what was going on in the courtyard. He knew when this was now, and any desolation he felt was quickly shoved aside by rage. Chimney was locked in a scuffle with the same man Buck had tried to pull Maddie away from in the previous loop. Doug's knife glinted silver in the light and Buck hadn't been there when Chimney was stabbed the first time, but Chimney had said Doug had taken him by surprise. That he'd had no chance to fight back.
Chimney was fighting back now.
Buck quickly threw off the shock and rushed forwards to help Chimney. He wasn't going to just stand by and let Chimney get stabbed. He also wasn't going to give up the chance to pummel Doug; Buck had wanted to do that for a long, long time. He took Doug by surprise, delivering a sharp punch to the side of his head and sending him to the ground.
"Buck," Chimney gasped out, startled and relieved and breathing heavily with adrenaline.
Buck flashed him a grim smile and used his foot to pin down Doug's wrist, the one holding the knife. Dazed but quickly recovering, Doug's fingers clenched tighter when Chimney moved closer and tried to take the knife away. With a satisfaction he shouldn't be feeling, Buck stepped harder on Doug's wrist until the man grimaced and the knife fell into Chimney's grasp. Chimney stepped away, holding the handle in a way that was firm yet cautious, like he wanted to make sure Doug couldn't get the blade back, but he also didn't want to be touching the knife at all. It had Doug all over it, it was understandable.
Doug struggled to stand. Turns out it's not exactly easy to get up from lying on your back when someone is standing on your wrist. He punched at Buck's leg to try and get him to relent, but Buck had felt worse than that before. He didn't flinch. When Doug rolled to the side to get his feet under him, Buck readied himself for more of a fight. Kneeling, Doug had slightly more leverage to try shoving Buck away, but Buck wasn't a stranger to fighting. Just because he didn't tend to show it didn't mean he didn't know how to stand his ground. He'd almost become a Navy SEAL, after all.
Buck knew how to remain unmovable when the world tried to wash him away.
He caught Doug's other wrist when Doug tried to shove him back. He held tight with a strong grip, not budging when Doug snarled and tried to yank both hands free.
"You're always getting in the way, Evan," Doug hissed through clenched teeth, anger clear in his tone.
"You're always acting like a fucking monster, Doug," Buck spat back.
He took a step back though, releasing Doug's wrists and letting him get to his feet again. If at first you don't succeed, try again, right? No sooner had Doug gotten upright and balanced, Buck punched him a second time. This time, he was unconscious before he hit the ground. A grim smirk curled Buck's lips, seeing the man sprawled on the pathway like that. After everything Doug had done, to Maddie and to Chimney, he deserved a good few punches.
Buck wasn't normally one for such actions, but he spat on the ground near Doug's head regardless. Doug deserved that too.
There was a slightly hysterical huff from behind him, and Buck turned to look at Chimney and the knife still gingerly held in his grasp.
"Groundhog day," Buck said wryly, and frowned when Chimney's eyes widened.
He'd expected relief, because maybe Chimney hadn't realized that Buck was also reliving this loop. Any version of Buck would dive headfirst into any fight he needed to in order to protect his family; nothing he'd done yet really signified that this wasn't Buck as he'd been back then. Buck expected to see relief, because Buck knew he was relieved to see someone he knew. That wasn't what he saw though.
Chimney looked hysterical, his eyes wide and exhausted. "Buck? Buck, you're— You're alright?"
"I— yeah." Buck mentally checked himself over. He'd maybe have a few bruises, but he could deal with that. "Yeah, I guess so. It's only— only my fifth loop—"
"Fifth?" Chimney's voice was heavy with delirium. "It's— It's my ninth. Fuck, you're Buck though? Present, real, alive Buck? Wait, have you seen the rage—"
Buck's head shot up as he remembered, "Maddie."
New goal in mind, Buck hurried towards her apartment, quickly dismissing Chimney mumbling to himself about, "No, if this is his fifth, he probably hasn't had that yet. That explains why he had no idea what happened; if I don't get a chance to tell him now, then he wouldn't have been able to tell past-me— Hang on, Buck!"
The loop broke and this time, Buck really did scream.
•••
The next two loops each hit with the force of a train at full speed, one after another. It had been years now and Buck knew that what Dr. Wells had done to him wasn't okay. He knew that now, but facing her hadn't been made any easier. After that came a memory from when he was just a kid trying to earn his parents' affections. That kid hadn't realized that nothing he did would be enough. He just… wasn't enough for them.
Those two loops broke open old wounds. It was almost odd, because Buck had thought he'd finally managed to leave those traumas behind. He thought he'd grown around them so fully that they couldn't be reached by outside attacks anymore, but trauma doesn't work like that. Those old wounds were open and bleeding, now, and caught in the loops, Buck didn't know where to begin healing. He didn't think he could begin, not until he was out. Not until he was sure there would be no more punches to knock him down again.
The respite came in the form of the rage room and the shared loop, but that didn't last long. Buck wasn't sure if it was really a respite either, because seeing everyone only displayed how splintered and drained they looked. They had been doing so good. Things were good. But happiness would never be enough to satisfy fate; if the road to get there didn't tear you apart, then what was the point? Fate was the ocean coming to destroy your delicate castle of sand, time and time again when you just tried to make it last.
After that, it all just sort of blurred together. One punch after another until Buck wasn't exactly sure what was real anymore. He'd been thrown back into so many points spread across his lifetime. After a while, he just… lost track of who he was. At some point, Evan had evolved into Buck, and Buck had continued to become wiser and older, but at his core, he was still the same. He lost track of where he belonged amongst all the versions of himself that had existed. Maybe he was still that kid, desperate for love. Maybe he was a man who was satisfied with the love he'd surrounded himself in. Who were his friends? It all just sort of blurred together.
Then came the tsunami. That one passed by in a haze, like a dream he wasn't fully present for. Could you blame him? Buck had to relive losing Christopher to the relentless waves that destroyed the pier. He was already exhausted, and he had to relive the long, grueling hours of searching the wreckage, because there would never be a time where Buck would give up on Christopher.
And then, in the VA hospital, he ran into Eddie.
Eddie, in his very first loop. Eddie, who had no idea what was going on and no idea of what was to come. Eddie, who didn't look dead like he had in the rage room. Buck never did learn what had happened there.
Trying to explain everything took more energy than Buck expected. He thought he did alright. Having Eddie at his side was natural, now, and Eddie always seemed to understand. So, sitting on a low cot with Christopher squished between them, Buck mumbled his way through the best explanation he had, and Eddie took it all in with wide eyes and an open fear in his expression. Buck might have laughed, if he'd had the energy. Eddie didn't hide true emotion anymore, not in the way he had the first time the tsunami came around.
They'd come so far.
It was all being torn apart now.
When the loop broke and Buck landed in his jeep for a third time, he very nearly had a panic attack. There was a manila envelope on the passenger seat, too warmly coloured for what it contained. The jeep was parked in the Grant-Nash driveway, and only streetlights and porch lights provided any sort of illumination in the darkness.
Buck knew when this was immediately.
He didn't know what to do except cry, so that's what he did. The lawsuit was awful. Every second of it. Buck hated every second of it. It was supposed to be over and never coming back, but now it was back and Buck couldn't face Bobby being furious with him again. The moment of fear in the rage room loop was enough, before Bobby asked to hug him. The moment of panic when he first landed in the loop, wondering if Bobby was going to keep him at arm's length when all Buck wanted right now was someone to hold him.
He was just so exhausted.
"You're exhausting."
Oh. Buck barely had the energy to scoff, because of course that wouldn't go away. Not after being dragged up in his second loop. Everything he'd laid to rest. He'd worked so hard to bury all those thorns. It wasn't fair that they were all being exposed again now.
Buck wanted to scream. He wanted to cry and scream and fight whatever god had decided he deserved this. He didn't deserve this. Please, he didn't deserve this.
All he had the energy to do was cry, silent and still. Buck rested his head against the jeep's steering wheel and just cried. His expression pinched into something ugly as tears fell down his cheeks and silent sobs forced their way past his lips. Buck sobbed there, alone in the darkness. Athena and Bobby were right there, but Buck couldn't do it. He didn't want to face these past versions of the people he loved. He wanted the people they were, present and someone he recognized. He wasn't going to get that, not here.
So he cried. He cried for the pain being ripped from old scars and he mourned for the loss of everyone he knew, because everyone he knew was slipping away. Buck was losing sight of who he was, and he was losing sight of who they were, now in the present. The true present was becoming nothing more than sepia-toned memories, old photographs being burned into ash.
He was losing sight of everything.
Buck wasn't sure how much time passed. The tears slowed but didn't stop. He wasn't sure how much time had passed and he didn't know what came over him, but Buck found himself stumbling out of his jeep and up to the front door. He didn't want to face Bobby, but he rang the doorbell all the same. He didn't know why. Buck kept his head low, hands shoved into his pockets. His heart was loud in his ears and something was logged in his throat, thick and tight. He couldn't breathe.
Bobby opened the door, just like the first time. Buck swallowed tightly and refused to look up. He loved Bobby so much. He refused to torture himself with Bobby's ire. Buck contemplated trying to run. He could try, if he somehow found the energy. But then Athena was there, and she wanted him to come inside. What could he do but obey?
Not looking up, Buck slunk past Bobby and followed Athena to the living room. It was dim in the house; it was the middle of the night after all. Bobby's whiteboard was sitting on the coffee table. Buck glanced at it halfheartedly, because Bobby only ever got that out when he went down a rabbit hole and Buck loved rabbit holes, so he usually ended up following. This time, it was a mess of writing and lines and—
Timelines, Buck realized, and his eyes widened.
No. There was no way. But he took it all in, the careful plotting of hellish timelines mapped out on the whiteboard. There should have been no way, but the proof was there, laid out before him.
Buck had thought he'd run out of tears to cry, but he must have had some left, because as he spun to face Bobby, more tears fell from his eyes. He wasn't sure what he expected Bobby to do, but Bobby nodded and offered his embrace and Buck gave in easily. How could he not? This was what he wanted. Someone that felt like home. Buck had been so scared of seeing Bobby as he was then, but this Bobby was home, and they were both crying now, sinking to the floor with no energy left.
Minutes ticked by, but minutes didn't matter. How could time matter anymore? Everything was slipping away, but home helped Buck hold on. Maybe it was only for a little longer, but he was holding on again and that was the first step.
Everything felt muted, to Buck. He muddled his way through conversation, through Athena's story, and felt like it was all happening on a distant planet. It was distant and muted, until—
"We're… we're not stuck in this for seven years, are we?"
The words wrought thunder through the murmurings in Buck's head. "No! No, I can't do seven years. Bobby— Bobby, I can't do seven years."
Buck was just so tired. The idea of seven years of this? No, he couldn't do that. This was… this was only his thirteenth loop, and he was so fucking tired. Buck couldn't do seven years of guilt. No one could be built for that. No one could survive that.
Athena's hand was warm against his cheek, and Buck couldn't help but lean into her touch. She couldn't truly understand what it was like, but she was there now and Athena was a comfort like no other.
"It won't be seven years." Her voice was gentle and strong, and Buck latched on to her presence with everything he had. If she believed that, then Buck could try to. "It should last until the bad luck decides to spit you out again."
Buck wanted to laugh. Since when was luck ever on his side? No, luck despised him. It twisted everything until everything hurt. Luck singled him out and pushed him to limits no one should have to reach. If this hell lasted until luck decided to free him…
Fate truly did love him.
How do you continue? Never knowing if you'll reach the end. Never knowing if the end will come too soon. How do you keep putting one foot in front of the other? How do you blink and find the strength to open your eyes and keep going?
When the loop broke, Buck found he had no tears left to cry.
•••
By his eighteenth loop, Buck was. He just… was. He hadn't met anyone real since seeing Bobby. His heart had been carved out of his chest and that left only his head to command him. He just… was. Despite that, Buck found a wry thought crossing his mind: maybe that's what the SEALs wanted. Empty bodies with no hearts to command them. People who just… were.
That was Buck now.
There's only so much one person can take and he'd taken all he could. There was no room for more grief, so all that was left was shutting down until what was taken could be processed. And to think… he'd been doing so good. Buck was back at the bottom now. He wasn't scared. He'd been here before, after all.
The eighteenth loop came and Buck just took it. He'd stopped caring who was there and who wasn't. There wasn't much point in caring. There were paintings of the sky on the wall, though. Buck noticed that. They were calm and open, but the air still felt too heavy. Maybe it was the tinted lights or the man in front of him. Buck didn't flinch when he realized; he'd stopped caring who was there.
Chase Mackey's grin was just the same as Buck remembered. Eager and confident and uncaring of whoever got in his way.
"Well, I thought that went great." Mackey held his hand out. Buck only stared blankly, and Mackey frowned. "Not what you were hoping for? Honestly, Buckley, I think that hearing was the best case—"
"Buck!"
He barely had time to turn before a tearful Hen had her arms wrapped tight around him, the rest of his family right behind her.