It had been like every other evening in the last few months.
He had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of his small flat, tired but not able to calm down, with his mind noticing the cars passing in front of his house, his neighbor's footsteps above him, the television from the flat next door, smelling the smoke of cigarettes and the smog hanging above the city. And as much as he longed to relax and enjoy the calm and peace of his evening, the silence drove him crazy like it often did. And he knew, the only way to get rid of it, was to get out. To tire his body out, so maybe he would be able to sleep at least for a few hours.
That's why he went jogging in the park nearby the mall. And the funny thing was the gun shop wasn't even on his usual tour. He had to change it, because of maintenance and service work of the small bridge in front of the exit he normally took. So, it was pure coincidence that he had heard the gunshot and the following cries of pain.
Pure coincidence, that all his senses had come to life, with the adrenaline rushing through his veins, analyzing the situation in an eyeblink without even thinking he had been: Looking through the window to make sure there was nobody inside with a gun, threatening someone. Wrapping his old blazer around his hand and smashing the window, after seeing nobody and noticing the door was closed from the inside. Waiting another moment hidden behind a postbox, before opening the door, checking every corner of the shop, expecting an attack from any direction until seeing the victim lying in his back office. Securing the weapon before calling 9-1-1. Checking the vitals. Tying his leg off while keeping the victim talking.
That was, what he was trained for. That was, what he was good at. Being in combat mode, with every one of his senses hyperaware of his surroundings but feeling nothing at all. Just trusting his instincts to lead the way.
Until the last person he was expecting stepped through the door, making him feel everything at once.
And it just seemed to be his kind of luck. Pure Coincidence. Or maybe, he thought while looking at Charlies gaping wound, it wasn't just pure coincidence but simply fate. Not that he believed in such kind of things.
And Eddie had known that this was a possibility. Meeting Evan or Chris walking through the streets. After all, he did move to LA, the same city where they were living. He knew this. But that was not how it was supposed to happen. Even if he had no idea how it should have, because he felt nowhere near ready for this. For everyone to know, he was back, especially not for Chris and Evan.
And now he was forced to, he thought desperately with the silence becoming even louder than before. The constant ticking of the two hall clocks echoing in his ear, being in time with all the questions and allegations still hanging heavy in the air.
"Hey, everything okay?", Captain Nash asked sounding concerned, and Eddie realized he had reduced the pressure on the wound. He lost control. And it would be his fault if he wasn't prepared to whatever was going to happen next, because he was so wrapped up in his thoughts.
"Yeah, it's just… I feel like my hands are going into spasm", Eddie lied while looking at Charlie, who was even paler than before. "How are his vitals?" He needed his head back in the game, pressing his hands even harder around the leg. For Charlie. And for himself. He needed to have control at least at something, Eddie thought staring stubborn at the vitals on the small monitor.
"He seems fine for now", Captain Nash tried to reassure siting on the ground dead steady right next to him. But instead of watching Charlie, he was watching him, and Eddie didn't like that. He was feeling like a bug under the lens of a microscope. Like an animal at the zoo.
"So… Multiple tours in Afghanistan… How's being back for you?"
Surprised Eddie looked up his heart pounding in his chest. There were rules for a reason during an operation, was the first thing Eddies mind came up with. And not talking about feelings and thoughts were high on top of that list. Because at every time, everything could happen. You had to be prepared. Because that was the only way how you would survive.
"Cap? Area is clear. LAPD has arrived to make sure it stays this way. Do you copy?"
Evan.
"Copy. Drive the ambulance and the truck outside a 100-meter radius. We need to take him fast to the hospital, when everything is clear, but I want you, and the rest of the team in a safe distance. 100-meter, Buck", Captain Nash radioed back, the short silence following, speaking volumes.
"Copy that, Cap."
"Buck…", Eddie said for the first time, just to fill the quiet he couldn't bear any longer, to try how this name felt on his tongue. "Is that what he calls himself now?"
"Since Fire Academy. It kind of sticked, I guess."
Maybe it kind of sticked, but for Eddie it didn't feel right. Calling him Buck. Buck, Buck, Buck he repeated constantly in his mind. It felt strange, but at this point they weren't hardly more than that: strangers. And he knew he was the one to blame. He was the one who had left.
"How's … Uhm… How long has he been working as a firefighter now?"
"Yeah, no, that is not how this is working."
"What?"
"This conversation. Me answering all of your questions, you ignoring mine."
"I'm glad to be back, okay. Who wouldn't be?", Eddie said upset, phrasing it, like Captain Nash had asked the dumbest question which was ever asked. But instead of getting angry, or walk away like the most people did, the captain just smiled at him. As if he got all the information he wanted.
„Yeah, but that wasn't the question, was it?", Captain Nash replied. "You know, there was a time when I felt like I had to shield everyone from my own personal damage, too. Being the happiest me I could. And it worked. Locking it deep down. At least for a while. Until it exploded right in my face. And then I realized that while the people who cared about me, gave me everything for getting nothing in return and that… I hurt them more than I ever would have thought. No relationship is a one-way drive."
"Yeah, but sometimes it's not that simple", Eddie protested because he knew it was the right decision, even if Evan couldn't see it. Even if he had hurt them both. Sometimes it just was the price to pay for doing the right thing.
"Maybe, but maybe it is that simple. All things can change, you just have to start fighting. Even if it means start fighting for yourself first. And that is nothing anyone should do alone", the older man said as another voice sounded through the room:
"Captain Nash?" –
"Over here", the captain shouted his eyes still at Eddie, whose eyes were flicked down to the wooden floor.
"I am Terrence Sinclair, bomb squad", the man with a grim face, dressed up in full gear, introduced himself, making his way to Charlie without waiting for an answer. "What are we dealing with?"
"Grenade. 40-Mike mike. Unfortunately, a live one", Eddie answered, making place in the small room as best as he could for Sinclair without releasing the pressure on the victim's leg.
"And he has hit his femoral artery, so we need to get him to the hospital as soon as we can", Captain Nash added, waiting for Sinclair to tell them what was next.
"I see", Sinclair answered thoughtful, staring puzzled at the wound in front of him. Not the reaction they had hoped for.
"Is there a problem?", Nash asked.
"We should call the military for help."
"Military? Can't you do it?"
"No, because I can't diffuse a grenade. I'm more familiar with bombs. Detonator and wires, you know? This is not the usual stuff we're dealing with. We need to find someone who knows how to pull that thing out of him, without setting it off", Sinclair explained looking helpless at Charlie. Taking his phone out while Eddies gaze got stuck at the wall opposite him. At a picture with Charlie and his family, standing in front of a lake, smiling with the sun, holding a big fish in their hands.
"No, we can't wait further. He will die if we don't get this out of him now", Eddie said angry, haunted by the number of people who could have lived if it had been possible to just get them to a hospital. Angry because he was back in Afghanistan in the middle of LA. "I'll do it."
"What? No", Sinclair looked at him as if he was nuts.
And maybe he was, but he needed to do this. For Charlie and his family. And for himself. "I can do it", Eddie insisted. "I'm an army medic and I have seen this before."
"But have you done this before?", Captain Nash asked skeptically.
"Well, none of the guys I served with were dumb enough to shoot a live round in themselves, but I'm familiar with the ordnance. Please, you have to let me do this. He will die, if he doesn't go to surgery soon", Eddie begged while Captain Nash was clearly still evaluating him.
„That is not a good idea", he finally sighed, before turning around to Sinclair: "Bring us some gear."
"We need to switch places, so I can get the grenade out of him while you are pressing on the wound. As soon as we have this thing out, I will tie his leg off with the tourniquet, we put him on the gurney and bring him the hell out of here", Eddie explained, knowing exactly what to do as Sinclair returned and handed off the bullet proof vest to Captain Nash.
"Okay, Captain, just nice and easy", Eddie whispered more to himself as they switched places holding their breath, while flesh blood was running over the wooden floors and Charlie's vitals went crazy for a moment. The tension in the room rose immeasurably.
"You put that thing in here as soon as you have it out", Sinclair showed them a small box made of metal, he put on the desk in front of him.
"Yeah, okay", Eddie nodded, closing the last Velcro, before he grabbed the tong, Sinclair was holding. And as he turned around to Charlie, exchanging one last glance with Captain Nash, everything just shut down. All the concerned looks, all the damn questions if he was okay, as if anybody was okay these days, the overwhelming feeling of not living in the here and now, the not knowing if their even would be a place in Evan and Chris' lives for him.
With his heartbeat echoing through the room, he grabbed the grenade and got it out of the wound, literally feeling the air he moved through. With everyone holding their breath, he turned around holding his hand as steady as he could. Waiting for something to happen, he didn't even know what. The moment he let go of the grenade, putting it down in the box, everything started to speed up.
He grabbed the tourniquet out of the medical bags, tied the leg off. As soon as he was done, Captain Nash was standing with the gurney next to them. "On three. One, two, three", and together they lifted Charlie onto the gurney.
"Coming out now", Captain Nash radioed his team, as they were running out of the the building, Eddie watching the vitals at the small monitor with Hen and Chim already waiting to take over:
"Pulse is steady but weak. Heartbeat a little slow, he lost a lot of blood", Eddie told them without taking a breath. "So maybe you ran another line", coming to an abrupt halt, because Evan was suddenly standing in front of him and the moment their eyes met, he got helplessly lost in this deep ocean blue he loved so much.
"Hey", Eddie whispered, his thoughts frozen, not knowing what to say, because it still didn't feel real. He had pictured this moment a hundred times, but not even in his imagination he had been able to found the right words.
"Hey? That's it?", Evan asked, his facial features hardened, the his eyes a raging sea. "You're back after four years of dead silence and everything you have to say is 'Hey'?"
"Evan-", Eddie tried to reach out, but Evan stepped back and cut him off:
"No! You know what? Have a beautiful life or whatever. I am done", he turned around. "I am driving", Evan added furious, getting into the ambulance the same moment as his colleagues were closing the backdoors.
And everything Eddie could do was watching the red lights of the ambulance disappearing into the night with Captain Nash standing right by his side.
Start fighting.
Fate, pure coincidence, or just his kind of luck. It didn't matter. And whatever it was maybe it had known that he had needed that kick in the ass, because otherwise he probably would never have found the courage to reach out.
Start fighting. Had he really given up?
Thoughtfully he listened to the sound of the sirens slowly dying away, afraid what he was going to find, if he came back into their lives, but determined to try. Feeling like he was back on the battlefield again, as the gun-shop behind them exploded into the night.