The mirror hall was wrong. Eddie knew that as soon as he stepped foot inside the second time. The first time, when the team had gone in to pull out injured parties, it had been fine. This second time was wrong. He knew that deep in his bones, but he couldn't point out why. Something had… activated, for lack of a better word. Some sort of old power had been woken and it was sitting in that mirror hall now, ancient jaws open and ready to snap closed. Ready to devour.
Eddie wanted out. He wanted to run out and tell them to tear it down. This place wasn't safe anymore. He didn't know why. And he couldn't leave without Buck. Buck was making his way towards the ruined car sitting silent at the back of the hall. Every time Eddie moved, a different shard of glass reflected light into his eyes. Everything glittered. Everything was waiting to pounce. Eddie wanted out, but he couldn't leave without Buck, and he doubted Buck would leave without doing his job.
Buck ducked down to check under the car. Eddie scanned the hall. Whether he was looking for any victims or any threats, he couldn't be sure. He wasn't just imagining it, because how could the shiver down his spine be wrong? It was those instincts that got him through his time in the army. Eddie trusted his instincts. That was just a fact.
Lips pulled into a tight line, Eddie took a step back. A better view would hopefully ease the chills ghosting cold fingers down his spine. It didn't. Everything glittered and everything felt ever so slightly off. Wrong. It wasn't too quiet. It wasn't too dark, or too cold. It wasn't too anything, but it was wrong all the same.
Eddie took a step back, and those waiting jaws snapped closed.
•••
When he opened his eyes, he had to immediately close them again. The spinning in his head eased slowly. That left him with a migraine, harsh rocking, and the sound of rushing water. It was bright. That was wrong, because it was almost late evening, and the mirror hall didn't have lights this bright. It didn't have the smell of seawater either.
The pounding in Eddie's head dulled slowly to become an aching throb. Still shitty, but more bearable. The rocking didn't stop, and neither did the panicked begs for help. Eddie kept his eyes closed and tried to wish himself away from whatever this was. He was supposed to be at a carnival, in a mirror hall full of shattered glass and a heavy feeling of wrongness—
His eyes flew open when Bobby's voice rang out. "All right, grab an extra harness, rope, pulleys, figure eight plates—"
Eddie couldn't breathe. The rescue boat bobbed in the waves. The ferris wheel loomed above him. People were shouting and the water crashed against debris. That was impossible. That was impossible because the tsunami had been years ago. All that damage had been rebuilt. All the trauma had been soothed and the nightmares were gone. There was no way he was back. Eddie couldn't breathe.
Buck was out there. Christopher was out there. He hadn't known the first time, but he knew now, and he didn't know which was worse. Buck and Christopher were somewhere in the middle of all of this. Eddie was never able to imagine what that must have been like. To see this giant wave of water bearing towards you and to just know… this might be the end.
He had to do something. Fuck, he had to do something, but if Eddie remembered everything Buck had said about his experiences during the tsunami, then Christopher was already missing, and Buck was already searching. Eddie didn't know where to even begin. He had no location. There was too much area to search. He had no idea where to start, and then there was his current job—
"Diaz!" Eddie startled at Bobby's yell. The man was at the front of the boat and staring at him worriedly. "You good? You zoned out on me; you take a hit or anything?"
"No," he huffed out, and no matter what was going on, it was in Eddie's blood to help others. "No, I'm good."
There wasn't much he could do for Buck or for Christopher, if he could do anything at all. He had no idea where either of them were. He had to pray that whatever happened the first time happened again, and that they would be as safe as they could be. Eddie would see them soon, in the VA hospital. He had to believe that. There was no reason not to. If he didn't, then Eddie was sure he would lose focus, and he couldn't afford that. He couldn't afford to start sobbing now, so he swallowed down his panic and drew on everything he knew about surviving.
He was good at that. He could do that, so that's what he did.
The next hours passed by… strangely. In the moment, he was present, but looking back later, everything felt distant. It all felt like a dream. Taking Lena to the VA hospital felt like he was watching through someone else's eyes. The hours spent surrounded by stress and panic were familiar, in a way, and it was distant all the same. He was just floating his way through time.
All too soon, it was dark outside and the constant stream of voices all around him was just noise. Eddie was used to urgent shouts and constant movement surrounding him. Then Bobby's voice cut through the haze, and everything snapped into perfect focus. The first time, Bobby had arrived and not long after, Eddie had seen Buck. Now, he spun around wildly, searching and hoping and feeling some form of desperation clawing up his throat.
Buck had to be here.
He was.
Eddie's knees nearly collapsed when he spotted his best friend leaning against a metal post. He looked so… exhausted. Eddie didn't think he had ever seen Buck look so tired. Not even after the most grueling shifts or the worst of his nightmares. Had Buck looked this tired the first time?
"Buck." Eddie was stumbling forwards before he could think, because it was instinct now to be at Buck's side. "Buck, are you okay?"
"Eddie…" Fuck, even his voice was drained. Buck looked so exhausted. "I— Chris and I got caught in the tsunami, and I— He'll be here soon. I promise, he'll be here—"
And Eddie frowned, because despite everything, all that he could think of was, "That's not what you said before."
Buck's brows furrowed and his mouth dropped open in surprise before he recovered. "Groundhog Day, huh?"
Eddie's frown deepened. "What? You mean the movie? I guess it's accurate—whatever was in that fucking mirror hall—but what—?"
It was Buck's turn to frown now. "Okay, so you're definitely stuck here too, but you don't know…?" Then some sort of realization crossed his expression. "This is only your first loop, isn't it?"
"Loop?" Eddie repeated incredulously. "This is a loop? God, please tell me you're joking."
The sardonic smile that grew on Buck's lips then made Eddie uneasy. Buck looked so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that was killing him from the inside. Eddie had never seen Buck look so tired, and he'd never seen Buck look so sick of the world around him. Fate had earned Buck's ire a thousand times over, but Buck had never looked so disgusted with the world. Eddie was scared to know what that meant.
Buck's smile made Eddie uneasy, but then he saw Christopher like he had the first time, and that took priority. His son was tired and bruised, but he was alive and that was enough. That would always be enough, to know that Christopher was alive and safe. Like before, Eddie profusely thanked the woman who had found Christopher, and then carried him over to sit his son next to his best friend. The rest of their team was hovering around Buck now, worried like they always would be, when one of their own got injured. Buck was watching him though, with tired blue eyes and furrowed brows and something desperate or despairing in his eyes. That uneasy feeling came back.
Eddie settled on Christopher's other side and ran a hand down his face. He tried to massage away the dull throbbing in his temples and prayed that the next second, he would be back in that mirror hall and everything would be alright. He just wanted everything to be alright.
It wasn't hard for Buck to convince Bobby, Hen, and Chimney to refocus on work; there was so much that needed to be done and they needed as many hands as possible, so with worried looks and orders to get help if necessary, the rest of their team separated and began helping anyone who needed it. A lot of people needed it.
That left Eddie with Christopher and Buck. He didn't even know where to begin. Christopher was leaning into Buck's side, eyes closed with fatigue and reassurance that everyone was safe. Eddie was so proud of his son for this. He always would be proud of Christopher, for making it out the other side of the tsunami. Just one of the many things that Eddie got to be proud of, because Christopher never stopped surprising him. Eddie hoped he never would.
"It's more of a knot than a loop," Buck mumbled, and his voice was so exhausted and quiet. Eddie had to strain slightly to hear him, but Buck was his best friend and they didn't always need words. "It's— I'm so tired, Eds. I can't change anything and it's— No one could be made for this. It's gonna get so bad."
Eddie swallowed tightly. "What…?"
"You relive your guiltiest memories." Eddie didn't miss the way Buck wrapped an arm around Christopher's shoulders. "Everything just comes, one punch after another. Everyone's stuck in their own timeline of shit, Chimney, Hen, and Bobby. Sometimes, you meet someone else—"
"Is that what you meant when you said Groundhog Day?"
Buck nodded weakly. "Yeah. It's like a code, of sorts. A quick way to check if someone else is reliving the same memory, y'know? There's… there's at least two coming for you, where everyone else is there. I don't— I can't change anything, Eds. Nothing that matters, anyway. It's— It just gets to you."
Buck trailed off into a pensive silence. He looked so tired, and Eddie felt fear root deep in the space below his ribcage. It spread with his every breath, reaching blackened fingers across his chest and tightening around his throat. It rested heavy in his jaw and made his teeth ache.
Fear was… a harrowing feeling. It always was. Eddie felt fear in his chest. He knew Buck felt it in his gut, a nauseous feeling that made him sick. Bobby's fear came from somewhere behind his eyes and left him with a headache. Hen felt fear in both her head and her chest, where it spread like a fragile ice and one wrong move could make everything shatter. Chimney felt fear like an ache pressing between his shoulder blades and clawing up his spine. They all felt fear differently, but it was harrowing all the same. This type of fear never got easier.
Eddie sneered at the ground before him. Whatever this was, whatever hell he had fallen into… He would get through it. He had to, to get home. Not the first hell Eddie had ever pushed through. From everything Buck had said, it sounded like it would be the worst, though. He would scream. He would cry. But he would make it out the other side. He had to.
•••
But maybe he wouldn't. Eddie thought he was doing good. He could take punches. First Shannon's death, and then his initial neglect of his wife and son in favour of war. Leaving his best friend's side when fire swept through Texas forests, and not properly saying goodbye before his Abuelo died when Eddie was eleven and hadn't quite understood what death meant. Eddie could take that. That was fine. He was fine.
(He wasn't.)
Doubt first started to creep in when Eddie found himself reliving the ladder truck bomb. Doubt sank icy claws into him when he saw the fear in Hen's eyes. Something was going to happen. Buck had looked so tired, and Eddie had a terrible feeling that he was shortly going to understand what Buck had meant when he said, "It gets to you."
Something was coming and Eddie wasn't scared of what was before him. He was terrified. Buck had looked so exhausted, and now Hen looked so afraid. It was almost like a haunting before the ghost was ever born. An echo of what was to come, and what came was a crashing tidal wave. It was a horrible assault of fear, anticipation, and adrenaline. There was no time to recover once it started.
They were racing to save Buck like they had the first time. Costas was apprehended and Buck needed help. It should have played out like it did the first time. It should have, but it didn't. Buck didn't die the first time and Eddie was never supposed to know what Buck looked like in death. Buck was never meant to die, but he did.
Eddie barely had time to understand that—his wide eyes had met Bobby's, for a split second—before the world spun in dizzying twirls and nauseating spins and then spat him back out. Eddie didn't quite register that, or anything else around him. The spinning around him had stopped, but the spinning in his mind hadn't. He was drowning on solid ground, eyes open and unseeing while his sense of balance tried to figure itself out.
Buck couldn't be dead. He wasn't allowed to be dead. No one was, but it wasn't like death ever followed the rules. Red blood crept across the asphalt, red lights filled his vision, anger and desperation writhed in his chest while fear squeezed his lungs and refused to let go. Fucking hell, what had gone wrong this time? Everything had looked the same. Nothing had changed, but at the same time, everything had changed. It made no sense—
"Why are you so pissed at me?"
That voice cut through the turmoil. It froze what little breath Eddie had and pulled everything out of his chest; fear, anger, and all, leaving only empty space behind. It all came to a screeching halt, a harsh grinding of gears that quickly left nothing but a loud ringing in his ears. Eddie blinked and his eyes finally managed to focus on where he was. He already knew where he was though; he'd known ever since he heard those words and that tone.
Howie's Grocery Store was a familiar place. It was where the 118 tended to do their grocery shopping, and where Eddie learnt just how picky Bobby was when it came to his ingredients. Not that Eddie complained, because Bobby was one of the best chefs Eddie knew. This scene though… Eddie was doing fine until the previous loop. The bomb had shattered his best defences though, and throwing this scene at him right after? Eddie wasn't one to believe in jinxes or curses, but this was damn close.
Buck had died in the previous loop. Red blood, red lights, anger and desperation and fear. His expression had been too still, too dull to be Buck because Buck was dead. That should have been enough. Enough pain, enough grief, enough torture. Enough. No more. Please, no more.
Eddie had thought he was doing fine, just surviving. Now, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. All the punches that had come, bruises and blood and spitting out a tooth, fists raised and ready to fight again. But the bomb had defeated him.
"Why are you so pissed at me?"
Fate had knocked him to his knees, but Buck was there, and Eddie admitted defeat. He had lost the battle and he sobbed. He couldn't help it. Buck had died and Eddie didn't know if he'd have to live with that. It wasn't Buck's first time seeing him like that, vulnerable and raw and pure. At least, it wouldn't have been, if it were his Buck. The Buck that had come running when Christopher called for him. That had helped fix what Eddie had broken, when he destroyed his room with fear, grief, and a baseball bat.
Once the tears started, Eddie couldn't stop them. It was a tsunami in its own right, destroying everything in its path and sweeping away all other thoughts. There was nothing Eddie could do but cry, and nothing anyone else could do but watch. Hen was looking at him worriedly, and Chimney looked completely caught off guard. Bobby was about to step in, and Lena had shuttered her expression in a way that said she didn't know how she could help. Eddie didn't care about any of that. He just reached for Buck, who looked like he was about to reach for Eddie too.
Nothing else mattered. Buck bundled Eddie into his arms and held him tight, and Eddie just cried. He clung to his best friend, and he clung to the Buck he knew now. The one suffering his own sort of hell somewhere in this fuck up of the universe. He had nothing better to do right now anyway. Eddie could feel his heart being carved out of his chest, bit by bit with every loop that passed. Seeing Buck die was just water poured over the dying embers.
"Eddie?" Buck's voice was distressed and confused, but he didn't let go. Eddie was thankful for that. "Eddie, what's going on? Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry—"
"I'm afraid." Eddie forced his voice to work, because for a moment, he'd forgotten that he had been dropped in the middle of what was easily his most prominently remembered fight with Buck, and he couldn't listen to Buck think this was his fault.
This wasn't anyone's fault. It couldn't be, because Eddie couldn't believe that any of his team had trapped them in hell on purpose.
"Okay…" Buck stumbled slightly, clearly caught off guard. He recovered quickly though. Buck always recovered quickly. "Well, what are you afraid of?"
Eddie huffed out with the weakest of laughs because that was exactly what Buck had said before, as they let the dust settle on the destruction Eddie had caused in his bedroom, back in a time that now felt decades away. Eddie's eyes were wet and he must have been a mess, but he didn't care anymore. He just couldn't care anymore.
"Right now?" Eddie didn't have it in him to wince at the rasp in his voice. "That I'm gonna wake up and you're gonna be dead. That everyone is gonna be dead, when this is all over."
Buck frowned in confusion and wariness. Eddie wasn't one to believe in curses, but that didn't mean he didn't listen to stories, and Abuelo had loved telling stories. Stories of old magic and people being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stories about dream demons that loved to give out free samples of hell. Eddie didn't know what had trapped him, and he had no plan besides just hoping that all of this eventually ended. How could you fight a higher power when you were already on your knees and bleeding out?
"What's going on, Eds?" Buck's voice was quiet.
A half-hearted sneer curled Eddie's lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Then, because he could, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
And Buck released a self-loathing huff and whispered back, "I never meant to hurt you either. The whole lawsuit—"
Buck cut himself off just a second before the universe tried to. The tornado of colour and the sensation of immense pressure was familiar now. Eddie tried to cling to the feeling of Buck's arms around him, warm and solid and comforting. He screamed from behind clenched teeth when it was ripped away. Buck was gone.
(He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead.)
When the spinning began to slow, noise replaced it. The thick sound of helicopter blades and the shouts of preparing soldiers. People moved quickly around him, Shannon and Christopher were glitching on the tablet screen in his hands, sand and noise and fuck, Eddie didn't want to be here.
The feeling of his army gear pressed against his body felt too familiar for how long it had been since he'd worn it. The Afghanistan sun was warm and the helicopter standing before him countered that warmth with a chilling sense of foreboding. He didn't want to be here. His cheeks were still wet from crying. The sobs had left his throat raw, and Eddie couldn't focus. He knew he needed to, but he couldn't.
"No, it's different cancer." Eddie could barely hear Shannon's voice over the whirring blades. "It's—"
"Endometrial carcinoma," he finished with her before he knew he was speaking.
Too quiet for it to be heard, but Shannon still paused as if she'd seen his lips moving on the video feed. Eddie swallowed tightly. He'd almost forgotten this moment. He wasn't surprised it was being dredged up now. Why wouldn't it be? Of course he felt guilty over this. Shannon had needed him, and he hadn't been there.
"We'll figure something out," Eddie whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear as he stared at his wife and his son from a time he hadn't been there for.
He still loved her. That wasn't any sort of realization. It was warm lavender, spreading throughout his body. It was a gentle current rather than a raging river, but it was love and love could destroy the world if it was allowed. It was a powerful feeling. It was why Eddie was always going to fight to come home. He had enlisted the second time to fight for his family. Now, he just wanted to come home.
Someone yelled at him—"Diaz, let's go!"—and the world shattered around him again.
The scream he gave tore his throat raw and set his lungs alight with agony. There was no sound, but it pierced his ears all the same. He had never wanted to go through this again; he had been moving on and he'd been laying these demons to rest. It wasn't fair that they were being exhumed now, one by one. Colour flashed beyond his closed eyelids and when Eddie tried punching something, frustrated and overwhelmed, his fist actually connected with something.
That impact startled his eyes open. Blinding flood lights filled his vision and the cool air smelled of blood and sweat. Eddie tripped as his sense of gravity righted itself, coincidentally managing to stumble out of range of his opponent's responding jab. Loud cheers rang in his ears and instinct took over. Fighting was burned into his muscles, and Eddie couldn't deny that getting to fight this way—sweaty, bloody, and burning—helped work out some of his frustrations.
This was simple. This was what he knew. Something to keep his body busy, to funnel out all his anger and fear. To exhaust his muscles so that he fell asleep quickly, without staring at the ceiling and letting his thoughts spiral. This was how he got sucked into underground fighting in the first place. It had been addicting.
Once it was over, though, he left quickly. The fight ended and Eddie fled. He had to be dragged away from his opponent, and he took a victory lap just to keep up appearances, and then he tucked tail and ran. For one moment, the fighting was an outlet. It drained him of frustration and fear and anger, and now that he was empty, he didn't want to be there. He didn't know exactly when this was, but this place belonged to a darker chapter of his life that Eddie would rather leave behind. One small allowance, and then he was done.
Eddie spat out blood as he stumbled his way to his truck. Sweat cooled on his skin and the cheering from the ring never stopped as the next fight began. Eddie was empty now though and he didn't care for any of that. He fought to come home to his family. He was empty now and he needed his family to fill that space. He barely registered the dial tone ringing in his ear until someone picked up.
"Groundhog Day for you too?" Buck's voice was tired, but there was a hint of wry humour there too.
Well… He hadn't been expecting this.
Eddie couldn't help the rasp of hope in his voice. "You too?"
"Yeah," Buck hummed quietly. He didn't sound as defeated as he had sounded during the tsunami. "Everyone is here. Uh, hang on."
Buck hung up. Eddie made it to his truck just as his phone started ringing with a video call. He wasn't exactly presentable, with his sweat-slicked hair and blood on his chin, but he couldn't care about that. Buck was there. Real, present Buck and the bomb loop felt like it had been seconds ago. Buck was dead, but he was also right there, and Eddie didn't have the energy to make sense of that.
He didn't look as tired as he had been in the tsunami loop. It came after this for Buck, it must have, because Buck had known about these two group loops. Buck moved the camera to show Chimney, Hen, and Bobby, and all Eddie saw was the way Bobby had paled when they realized Buck had died. The way Hen had choked on a horrible sob. The way Chimney had fallen into a still silence.
Eddie just didn't have the energy to cry anymore. He was untethered, floating through the dark fog with no way to know where he was heading. Voices came through in a haze. Everything felt muted and he was alone, sitting in the dark shadows created by the fighting ring flood lights. He was just… empty.
Bobby looked just as awful as Eddie felt. Everyone else looked beaten down, but Bobby looked like his soul had died forever ago and he was just waiting for his body to catch up. Eddie felt the same.
Time had no meaning anymore as paths crossed and weaved and then doubled back to cross again. There was no use for time in a time loop, but family was everything. It reminded Eddie that he had reason to keep getting back up when lying in the dirt at fate's feet seemed so easy. Giving up would be so easy, but that wasn't what he wanted. The harsh thrum of his blood beneath his skin had never yearned for easy and he wasn't about to give up now.
He was halfway through hell by now, there was no use in trying to turn back.
•••
By the time Eddie found himself standing in an elevator surrounded by Chimney, Hen, and Bobby, it was his fourteenth loop. Hen had just stepped in after him and they were all facing the doors opening into a building Eddie never wanted to see again. They all saw Buck just stare empty-eyed at the hand Chase Mackey offered him, and they all just knew that this was their Buck.
Since the fighting ring, everything had slowly come trickling back in; anger, fear, desperation, and hopelessness all filled him up again, loop by loop. He was chained down again, and he'd just come out of a loop that decided to last nearly twenty-four hours. He hadn't been ready for the sudden change.
Hen was.
She was the first one out of the elevator and rushing forwards. Eddie quickly found the energy to chase after her, Chimney and Bobby with him. They got their four pairs of arms tight around Buck and it was a bit of a struggle to keep anyone from falling over in the stumble, but they were all there again and Eddie was grateful. He didn't think he could get through this time again without his family.
"Guys?" Buck mumbled out lifelessly, and Eddie winced.
Every time he saw Buck, it was hard. In the tsunami loop, he'd looked horrible. The fighting ring, he'd looked better, but exhaustion had still lingered. Now, Buck looked as though his heart had been ripped from where his desperate hands had fought to hold on. Like someone had reached in and reprogrammed his brain into something too tired to feel anything.
"Uh, excuse me?" Eddie barely heard Mackey's confused voice.
"No offence, but fuck off," Hen bit back.
Chimney huffed slightly in amusement and squirmed in the middle of their huddle until he was standing in front of Buck. Buck blinked dully like he wasn't there behind his eyes and Eddie didn't know how to fix that. He barely knew how to fix himself, but Eddie watched as Chimney grabbed Buck's face in his hands and pulled him down so that their foreheads could be pressed together, eyes closed. One of Chimney's hands moved to rest heavily at the back of Buck's neck, and Buck's entire body relaxed.
"Hey, Chim," he rasped, and there was emotion there now as Buck hugged back.
"Hey, Buckaroo," Chimney said softly, his own exhaustion colouring his voice. "You back with us?" Buck only responded with a weak wince, so Chimney went on, "Okay. What can we do?"
Wasn't that just the question of the century? Eddie leaned his head against the closest shoulder he could find, which just so happened to be Bobby. What can we do? What can we do to help you? What can we do to get out? What can we do to just survive this?
"Is there even anything we could do?" Eddie mumbled out, and Bobby shifted to get an arm around his shoulders and pull him close.
"'Thena," Bobby started, then stopped to swallow tightly. "'Thena mentioned an old story about mirrors and bad luck. Said it ends when it decides it's done with us."
"Great," Hen mumbled, and Eddie had to agree with that sentiment. "As long as there's no lessons to be learnt here— I can't even think of forgiving myself for any of this right now—"
"Well, that might help," Chimney huffed from where he was now tucked under Buck's arm. "Less ammo or something."
Hen scowled. "All I've learnt from this trip down memory highway to hell is that I've changed from the person I was then, and that I don't want to go back to those times."
"Seconded," Eddie grumbled.
He couldn't bring himself to untangle his limbs from his team. They stood in the hallway in a huddle, slotted together like mismatched puzzle pieces and there was an elbow digging into Eddie's ribs, but he couldn't care less. He needed to reassure himself that this was real. He didn't think any of them would complain or argue; they were in the same boat, after all.
"I could learn to forgive myself for all of this," Buck mumbled, "But not now. Too much has happened— Don't know where to even start—"
"No one is making you start right this second," Bobby said wearily. "When we get out of this, I for one need to take a long nap—"
"I just want to go home."
Eddie startled, blinking dumbly because two people speaking in unison is hard, but four? Chimney's mouth hung open in surprise and Buck's eyes were wide. Hen blew out a harsh breath and Eddie found his lips curling upwards.
"I think that's as close as we're gonna get to magically breaking this curse," he huffed, and then glass shattered around him.
It wasn't like other loop transitions. Those had been an awful, wrenching feeling, being pulled too thin and thrown through a void. This was being grabbed from behind and violently spun around. A blink of colour and a brief silence. It felt like sliding into the right place, a thorn being removed. Fragments of glass rained down on him for a second, as though he'd been standing in the middle of a shattering pane. One shard sliced into his cheek as it fell, leaving a stinging pain and a trickle of blood in its wake. Eddie didn't pay that any mind.
The lights were dim, warm amber mixed with coloured carnival lights. The crashed car and the shattered mirrors were all there. He didn't dare blink, scared that if he did, this would be gone. Eddie knew the scream would tear his throat if this was just his mind playing tricks on him. He didn't blink, so he watched as one pane of glass trembled for a second before it shattered, and Buck was standing in its frame.
Buck's nose crinkled as he shook shards of glass from his hair and his eyes widened as he looked around. There was another crash of glass behind him, and Eddie turned to see Chimney a few frames away, covering his head.
"Oh my god," Eddie breathed, just as Hen appeared not too far away from Chimney.
"We're out," Buck said disbelievingly, and with a final cascade of glass, Bobby appeared nearby.
"Nobody move," Hen hissed sharply as Eddie went to step forward. "We don't know if we could get trapped again."
Eddie froze at that, wide eyed. Buck paled, his shoulders curling inwards as he looked around nervously. As if on cue, the lights in the mirror hall all went out. Not just from losing power, but the bulbs all shattered and the lingering feeling of danger in the air disappeared. The beast that had just spat them back out lost interest in them and settled down in sleep.
For a long moment, no one dared to move. Eddie barely breathed, silent as he let his eyes sweep over what he could see without turning his head. Buck and Bobby were in front of him, Buck standing near the car and Bobby a little way right of Buck. Buck was trying not to touch anything while Bobby stood frozen.
Slowly, Eddie reached up to wipe at the trickle of blood on his cheek, and they all collectively breathed a sigh of relief when nothing lunged out at them. The tension melted out of the air and that left only exhaustion. Eddie's shoulders slumped and he almost fell to his knees. Instead, he merely ended up leaning heavily against the closest metal frame.
"We're out," Chimney said, the ghost of a relieved grin growing on his lips for a split second before it dropped again, and he was turning to Buck. "You're alive."
Buck barely had to energy to frown. "Uh, I think so?"
Eddie's head had shot up and he now demanded, "Did you relive the bombing?"
"No." Buck shook his head weakly. "No, I— I didn't—"
"You didn't?" Bobby rasped, relief obvious in his tone.
Buck swallowed thickly and something in his gaze tightened. Eddie had seen it before, when Buck prepared himself for something he knew would hurt. That prompted Eddie to start dragging himself towards his best friend, using the frames to steady himself as he shuffled forwards on shaking legs. Buck reached for him once he was close enough, pulling him in as he pursed his lips.
"I am not guilty about the bombing," Buck whispered hoarsely. "That wasn't my fault. It's everything that came after that hurts."
Eddie winced and looked around at his teammates. Chimney had sunk to his knees, forehead resting against an intact mirror in front of him. Hen had made her way to lean against a frame next to him, using it to keep herself upright. Bobby was staring into the distance somewhere in front of himself, face pale and hands clenched in loose fists.
They all looked so tired. Dead, in some ways. There were only flashes of life behind those eyes, little sparks from dying embers. Eddie had seen so many versions of these people in that hell. So many faces that were gone now, but they had existed once, in the past. They had looked tired then too, but seeing that exhaustion on the faces he knew now… That made it real. It hadn't just been some fever dream.
They were tired. There was no other word for it. They were all just so fucking tired.
They were alive, once. They had friends and family. They had trauma. They had lives. Eddie wasn't exactly sure how they could go back to that, now. This was coming home from war, and war was not just bodies. War was people, and people had dreams. Dreams to settle with their love and dreams to grow old. Dreams to live.
War kills. Eddie wasn't sure if any of them had made it out.
"Cap, Hen, come in," Lucy's voice crackled over the radio, static glitching for a second before it began to clear away. "You guys hear me?"
Eddie watched the effort it took for Bobby to lift a hand to his radio and answer with a dull, "Yeah, we're here."
"Good." The relief in Lucy's voice was clear. "Your five minutes are up; you still need those reinforcements?"
Bobby blinked slowly, confusion clear in his eyes before he seemed to remember. "No. No, we've got everyone. We're on our way out."
And that meant they had to somehow find the energy to move. Eddie groaned low in his throat, struggling to find any energy left. He'd run out of gas, run out of fumes, and now there was nothing left. Fuck, he'd never felt such bone-deep exhaustion in his life. Buck echoed the sentiment with his own complaining groan, his arms still wrapped around Eddie.
"Come on." Hen clapped her hands together, weaker than she clearly would have liked. "Let's get out of this hell hole before whatever let us go changes its mind."
That was all the incentive Eddie needed. There was no way he was going to risk being snapped up by the beast again. He couldn't do it again. He had already bled out on the dirt, he had no more left to offer in a pleading beg for mercy.
With a shuddering breath and on weak legs, Eddie started shuffling towards the exit, pulling Buck with him. They had to go single file, but Buck's hands remained fisted in the back of Eddie's shirt, and he took all the comfort he could from that. Buck was still there. By some miracle, they would be okay.
One by one, they all reached the exit. Chimney and Hen first, then Bobby, Eddie, and Buck. The air outside was cool as they all tumbled out of that damn mirror hall. Eddie barely remembered the carnival; it was like seeing it for the first time again as he looked around. He didn't know how long it had been inside the loops. In reality, he had been inside the maze for maybe ten minutes. It felt like a lifetime had passed.
Lucy and Ravi were there almost instantly. They hadn't changed from what Eddie remembered and that was some sort of relief. All the faces that had marred the images of his family that Eddie knew. At least someone was familiar, because Eddie didn't recognize the resentment that Buck now held for the world, and he didn't recognize the eerie emptiness in Chimney's expression. The look of disorientation in Bobby's eyes or the stuttering weakness in Hen's movements. No, Eddie didn't recognize any of it.
"Are you guys alright?" Ravi asked worriedly, reaching to help steady Chimney when he stumbled. "You all look exhausted."
"We are," Chimney huffed. "Station's gonna need to be taken offline."
Lucy nodded, frowning in concern. "Did… something happen, in there?"
Eddie shared a long look with the other four members of his team—his family—that had been trapped in that hell, and all he could think to say was an exhausted:
"You don't want to fucking know."