I posted this story on AO3 first, so I'm used to story notes being attacted to the beginning and end of each chapter. I won't really copy all the notes that I wrote on AO3, but I will still use the "notes at the beginning" concept to list the trigger warnings for each chapter as I do for every chapter.
My trigger warnings for this chapter include hints of past child abuse as well as a minor death including the death of a newborn. And as I tell all my readers, I might miss some things or some things that I might not consider triggering may be triggering to others. So, if there's anything you ever feel I need to add to my trigger warnings let me know and I will definitely add it in.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
/
"Marco!" The twenty-year-old brunette calls out with a laugh as she splashes about the pool with her eyes closed.
"Polo!" the much younger boy calls before proceeding to descend under the surface of the water, moving through it with a surprising speed for a newly eight-year-old. He pops back above the surface, grinning as his older sister slowly moves to where he previously was, swiping her arms at air. He chuckles quietly as he moves swiftly away from her.
"Marco!" she calls once more, but his attention is now on a small object twinkling in the water as it floats towards the edge of the pool.
"Your ring," he says as he moves to grab it.
"That's not your line, big guy," Maddie chuckles as she furrows her eyebrows yet keeping her eyes closed.
"Almost. . ." The ring is floating away, inside the pipe of the pool and the boy doesn't hesitate as he plunges his hand inside to enclose his fist around the small item. "Got it!"
He tries to pull back, but his arm remains firm inside the pipe. He tries again, but to no avail. "Stuck. Maddie, I'm stuck!"
Maddie opens her eyes, face full of concern as she rushes over to her younger brother. "Oh my gosh, Buck! I'll be right back. Do not panic and try not to move!"
She quickly hops out of the pool, not bothering to dry off as she races inside the house. "Mom!"
So, Buck waited outside by himself, his arm stuck in a pool pipe, until an even smaller boy came waddling outside. He plops down on the edge, dipping his small bare feet in the water as he leans forward to get a better look at Buck's stuck arm.
"Maddie said you got your arm stuck in the pool," he says as he points at the appendage. "Now why would you do something like that Bucky?"
"Somedays," Buck sighs in exasperation, "I wish I could go back to the days when you couldn't talk, Ty."
Ty sticks out his tongue in response as older men come parading through the back door and onto the deck.
"T.K.," the head firefighter says as he leads his men towards the pool. "I'm gonna need you to stand by your mother."
The little boy hops up, scurrying back towards the house where Maddie and their mother wait with worry.
"Now son," the man kneels, the words CAPT STRAND on his chest indicating him as the one in charge, as the rest move around the two to assess the situation. "Wanna explain to me why you're stuck in a pool pipe?"
"Maddie's ring," the boy responds sheepishly. "I didn't want her to lose her ring."
"Well then, let's get you out of this pipe so we can return that ring."
Buck was stuck in that pipe for more than an hour before the crew finally got him free. Captain Strand shakes his head as he lifts Buck out of the pool, wrapping him in a towel before carrying him over to his family.
"I believe someone has something for you," Captain Strand says to Maddie as he leans Buck more towards her.
"I saved your ring," Buck says cheekily as he holds out his fist, uncurling his now blue fingers slowly, and drops the object into Maddie's palm.
"Ah, Buck," Maddie sighs, closing her fingers gently around the ring while using her other hand to whack him lightly on the side of his head. "You could've been seriously hurt!"
"These are the kind of risks we take in this line of duty, ma'am." Buck takes the hat off Captain Strand's head and places it on his own. "Meet you at the hospital, Mads."
"Don't be ridiculous, I'm riding with you."
/
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"My son, he hit his head on the diving board and he's not breathing."
/
Hen is the first to push past the glass doors, while Chimney holds it open for Bobby and Buck to follow behind. All eyes are on the mother kneeling over her son, pushing against his chest as she cries in pain.
"Okay, Buck start chest compressions, Hen start bagging him."
"Gotcha Captain," Hen replies as Bobby kneels next to the woman, coaxing her to the side so the professionals can get to work. Once she's out of the way, Buck, Chimney, and Hen waste no time.
"Starting compressions," Buck says as he begins pushing against the young man's chest. He counts to twenty, leaning back with a Go!. They wait a beat.
"No rhythm," Chimney calls. He runs the machine again, and Buck waits anxiously, hoping to see his eyes open.
"Come on, kid, c'mon."
One more time and Hen is steadying the kid's head as he coughs up water. Smiles reach the faces of the firefighters as the mother brings her hands up to her mouth in relief. She rushes over, kneeling over her son as Hen and Chimney reassure him with words of comfort.
/
FireHOSE
Almost THERE! ;) :D
GRoovY HEELS297
Better hurry Mr Hose! I'm on FIRE.
/
The red vehicle speeds past the much smaller ones, it's loud horn a warning for the cars to move out of the way as it flies down the highway. The driver, one guilty Evan Buckley, slows the truck to a halt at a red light, next to a silver convertible. He moves to the passenger side after putting the truck in park, leaning out the window to talk to the brunette driver.
"Groovy heels297?" Buck asks with a big smile on his face, relishing in the way her eyes roam the firetruck in surprise.
"This is cheating."
"No, no, no," Buck says in a smug tone. "You said if I got to you in five minutes you would be all mine."
He cocks his head at her with a smirk as she nods thoroughly impressed. She props her arm on the door, leaning closer. "This why they call you firehose?"
Buck shakes his head with a cocky smirk. "Nope."
She learned the reason behind his name alright. Moments later, she's collapsing against his chest in bliss, both breathing heavily. She leans back, smiling as her eyes roam his face, landing on the pink spots decorating his left eyebrow.
"Someone punch you in the face?"
He smiles knowingly, rubbing his thumb across the area. "Nah, it's a . . . it's a birthmark."
"I dig it," she says as she moves off his lap.
"Hey, can I uh. . . can I get your actual number?" There's something behind his eyes, something she doesn't notice, desperation and hope.
She lets out a little chuckle and Buck can already see the word on her lips. "You're cute and . . . you're very good at whatever it is we just did." Buck smirks appreciatively, though his shoulders sag at the 'but' he hears coming. "Let's not ruin everything by actually getting to know each other?"
She leans forward, pressing another kiss to his lips which he accepts hungrily, and then she's climbing out of the truck and heading back to her own car. He shakes off emotions threatening to arise and hops out the truck himself, tucking his shirt back into his pants and redoing the buttons.
"We're living in a golden age."
/
"Buckley!"
The one in question looks up, seeing the Captain looking down at him from the balcony. He quickly takes the stairs up, following Captain Nash to his office.
"Have a seat."
"I'm okay standing."
"Take a seat, Buckley."
Buck reluctantly sits in the chair, eyes focused on the wooden desk, the stack of papers, anywhere but the captain's face.
"First thing, professionalism." Captain Nash sighs as he sits down in his chair across from the newest recruit. "I cannot have you out on the field flirting with every girl you come across."
"Yes sir."
"Your sole focus needs to be on the victim."
"Yes sir."
"It could bring a lot of trouble not only to you but to this whole station. That clear?"
"Yes sir."
"Look at me." Buck's eyes raise to meet the captain's. "That clear?"
"Yes sir."
The captain nods, standing to move around the desk so he's right by Buck's legs as he casually leans against the wood. "Second thing, your openness and trust in complete strangers."
"I know, Captain, no more flirting."
"That's not what I'm talking about," Captain Nash says, causing Buck to look at him in confusion. "Buckley, we're a team. We don't hate you. People have their habits. I'm just asking you refrain from doing it while on the clock." Buck nods his head slowly, still not completely understanding. "You're so guarded here around your team, the people you work with, but out there. . . it's like the wall comes tumbling down and you're all smiles and such a warm and optimistic person."
He moves forward placing a hand on Buck's shoulder. "I want to trust you and for you to trust us. No one here is out to hurt you. Open up, let loose. Think of this place, these people, as your second family."
Buck is quiet for a few seconds, but the feeling of tenseness under Captain Nash's hand disappears. "Buck. My friends. . . they call me Buck."
"Well, Buck, my friends usually call me Cap. Those close enough call me Bobby. And just think, open up to me, and you can call me pops."
"Pops?"
"Like your second father—"
"Dad. A father is just a birth giver. A dad is the one who loves and takes care of you."
"Well, in time, I hope you can consider me to be like your second dad."
/
Buck hops out the truck, shutting the door with a slam as he makes his way towards the stairs. Two men already give him the silent knowing look, and he rubs his thumb across his birthmark—a nervous tick he's always had—as he ascends to the balcony.
Hen and Chim, along with a few others sit at the table, preparing to eat. They all pointedly make no move to greet Buck or even glance his way. All except Bobby of course. His patronizing gaze says it all.
He does his best to stay cool, striding over to Hen and dipping his finger in the bowl of spaghetti she holds, dropping the few noodles into his mouth and savoring the taste of pasta and delicious homemade sauce.
"Hey!" Hen protests, yanking the bowl away from him and giving him a look of disgust. "Wash your hands. We don't know where they've been."
"What if we had a call?" Bobby says as he marches over with three more plates full of food, the look on his face giving away his irritation.
"I was in the neighborhood," Buck says as he grabs the plate balancing in the crook of Bobby's elbow. "I was just, uh, getting it washed."
"They charge you extra for the full detail?" Chim says, giving Buck an accusatory look.
"Yeah," Buck says with a smile full of asparagus. The smile drops as Bobby turns to address him.
"Listen, I like ya. You're a good firefighter. I know we got this thing; you call me pops and I give you a hard time for being a dumbass kid, we've been to a Springsteen concert together, but this is not a family. S'not a clubhouse. So, I'm writing you up."
"C'mon, Bobby. See the fire, put out the fire. The rest is blah, blah—"
"No. The system and the rules are not arbitrary. First infraction. Two more, you're out." Bobby takes the plate of asparagus from Buck. "Wash your hands."
Buck sighs, taking the asparagus he holds and popping it into his mouth as he heads to the bathrooms in defeat, pretending not to notice the table suddenly erupting in whispers the moment he's out of hearing range.
/
Buck watches from the window as Maddie's car backs out the driveway and takes off into the night. Leaving him. Alone. With Daniel.
He slowly lets the blind fall, obscuring his view of the world, and the world's view of him. He turns around so his back is to the front door. Just as quick as he turned around, he's staring at the ground, pain blossoming on his left cheek.
"What. Did. I. Tell. You."
Daniel's voice is eerily calm. Drops of liquid on the ground suggests he has his usual bottle of beer in his hand, having sloshed about when he struck out at his son.
"WHAT! DID! I! TELL! YOU!"
Buck flinches at the loudness of his voice. "Don't misbehave."
"And what did you do?"
His sister a favor. His mom a favor. And the ultimate winner: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG! (Besides earning his hand a lovely home in a brace for just a few days.)
This time he's looking at the rugged carpeted steps leading to the upper level of their home to his left instead of the nasty wooden floor to his right, pain blossoming on his right cheek.
"AND WHAT DID YOU DO!?"
"I misbehaved." He refused to cry. Not in front of Daniel. He wouldn't allow him that victory. He just let the tears fall. Usually it was enough to get the drunken man to back off.
"I bet it's because of that wretched brat. Maybe I should ask him what happened next time he comes around—"
"You leave Tyler alone!" Buck is normally calm. He's normally quiet, takes the beating and curls up in a ball in his room and goes to sleep. Takes a bit of foundation he swiped from his sister before she left and applies it to his face and goes about his day pretending nothing happened.
It's been like that for a while when he's staying with his dad. Those visits he gets with his mother keep him sane, because Maddie marks those dates on her calendar and goes out of her way to pick him up from the house and fly with him out to New York where their mom welcomes them with open arms, accompanied by her new lover and the man Buck considers to be his dad, Owen Strand, as well as Buck's baby brother, Tyler.
Buck has always been protective of Tyler. He refused to let Ty ever come across the evils in the world. Buck would be damned if he ever let Daniel put his hands on his younger brother.
"You can't lay a hand on him."
Daniel downs the rest of his bottle, snarling at Buck menacingly. "I don't need to. I already have a punching bag."
/
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Yeah hi, I live in an apartment on 876 McCain. I'm in my bathroom and I think I hear a baby crying. In the wall."
"How is the baby on the wall?"
"No, no, no. Not on the wall, IN the wall. There's a baby inside my wall. I think someone flushed a baby down the toilet."
/
"Where're we headed?" Chim asks as the quartet make their way to the complex entrance.
"Fourth floor," Bobby responds.
"Woo!" Buck exclaims, a bubbly smile on his face. "I'll race you."
"Race yourself, Rambo," Bobby calls from ahead of him. "I'm fifty years old, I'm taking the elevator."
"Who's Rambo?"
"I don't hear anything," Bobby says as he comes back from the bathroom, looking at the young man seated on the couch.
"Look, I'm telling you, I heard a baby crying. Someone flushed a baby down the toilet." He sighs, glancing over at Hen who stands by his counter, inspecting his red water pipe bong. She glances at him questioningly. "Oh, I'm not high . . . Okay, I'm pretty high, but it's a sativa. Y'know, it makes you happy. It doesn't make you hallucinate."
"Could've been a cat, right?" Chim says from the corner, arms crossed in irritation at the thought of time being wasted. He throws his arms up in exasperation. "Sometimes rats get stuck in the walls. . ."
Bobby's shushing him before he can finish, and the four listens as the whine of a baby echoes around the room, originating from (surprise!) the bathroom. "Did you hear that?"
Just like that, all four's postures change from relaxed to attention, all heading inside the bathroom. Bobby puts his ear against the wall, knocking gently before turning and asking for a stethoscope, which Chimney passes over. He continues to knock against the wall, using the stethoscope to hear what might inevitably be on the other side. A few more knocks and the baby whines again, and that's when Bobby is turning back to the three with more urgency than before.
"Give me a pen- I mean a sharpie." Chimney tosses it to him. Bobby catches it with both hands, knocking along the wall again before drawing a black 'X' on it.
"Hey!" the young man protests, which goes ignored.
"Alright, we need to open up this wall."
Chimney shakes his head, turning to the guy accusingly. "No, no. We're being punked. It's a tape recorder somewhere, right Spicule?"
Before the man can answer, though, Hen is stepping forward with a hum of disagreement. "Maybe he's right. Maybe a mother gives birth on the toilet and flushes it."
"Ok, first of all, that's awful," Chimney says, now turned back towards his comrades. "Second, d'you not know how a toilet pipe works? It's this piece of servant thyme pipe that takes the waste from the toilet—"
"If this is a premature baby, its bones could bend and compress like a sponge. Ok, we need to go in there." Bobby's tone holds authority and urgency. All Buck can think about is one poor baby trapped in a toilet pipe. Abandoned. Forgotten. He's gripping the ax in his hands a little tighter, situating it to where the blade faces the wall. His anger is building. Anger at those in life who choose to hurt. Those who decide to just end lives. Those who feel animosity towards their children yet refuse to let others take care and love them the way they won't. His nostrils flare.
"Stand back," he rears his arms back, Chimney ducking and Hen backing up as he moves towards the wall with scary speed. The 'X' is no longer an x, but his father's ugly, evil face. "I got this."
And then Chimney is shouting, and the young man is shouting, and Hen is shouting, and Bobby is shouting as he jumps in Buck's path, stopping him from planting the ax into the 'X'.
"Did you even stop to consider that you might hit a baby?" And no, Buck did not stop to think that he might hit a baby. Kill a baby. End of life. Be no better than the low life's he swore he'd never be. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Go get the saw."
Buck stumbles over his words and keeps his head down as he exits the room.
/
"You're not from around here, are ya?"
Buck looks up at the sound of the voice. The girl is a brunette. No tan, a dead give away that she's not from the area either. "No, I'm not from around here. I can tell you aren't either."
Not just from the lack of tan that would've been evident on a native of South America, but also from her voice drowning in the accent of a native of Britain.
The girl smirks. "Obviously." She glances around, bites her lip (something that does not go unnoticed by Buck), and gestures to the door. "Should we go somewhere quieter?"
Quieter it was, until they ruined the silence with the nasty sounds of human connection. Again, and again and again, until three years later they're both still living in South America, though someone's gained quite the pounds and it was not Buck.
Buck has spent the time working at the bar the two met at, earning enough money for the two to be content. Selina earned money helping at a local market, though lately she's been at home ever since growing a big baby bump.
"Here's what I'm thinking—Just hear me out!"
"I don't think so. I've come to learn your ideas can be so ridiculous."
"Benny."
"I'm not naming our daughter after an old clock!" She whacks him in the head with a laugh. He smiles warmly.
"Of course, not. We're naming her Aimée . . . and the next daughter will be named Madeline—Maddie for short, or Mads—and our sons would be Tyler—if you really wanna get creative it can be Tyler Kennedy—and—"
"Absolutely not, we're not having our bloodline be named after your siblings just so you all can have a bunch of mini me's running about. Bunch of Tyler's and Madeline's and Evan's—"
"Don't be ridiculous. My mini me's would have their first name resemble Buck, so they'll probably be named Buchanan."
"Buchanan Buckley?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Estúpido."
The nurses didn't bother him. They let him have his time for as long as he could. So, in the silent room he stood, cradling the small child in his arms, a few tears dripping off his face and onto his daughters cold one. He quickly wiped the tears away, bringing the baby over to the bed.
He climbed in beside Selina, throwing his right arm across her shoulders, bringing Aimée up between them and intertwining his fingers with Selina's limp ones. And he stays just like that. Cuddled next to Selina, Aimée peacefully in between them, his lips against Selina's cold temple. And he cried, sobbed, until the nurses eventually came to comfort him and ease him away.
He waited for the funeral. Both are right in the heart of the community. Those who've grown to become his familia pat him on the shoulder solemnly, and he nods, giving each of them that knowing sad look. By then, he's got a tattoo on his arm. Two simple bands around his bicep. No names, no faces, no intricate art. He doesn't need the world to understand the tattoos because he knows, and that's all that matters.
By the next day, he's back in California. He's in the city of Angels. And he's looking for a job. A job to save lives. In a way to make up for the ones he couldn't.
/
The moment Bobby puts down the saw and begins tearing away at the wall, Buck wastes no time moving forward, clawing at the wall, desperate to get the baby out safely.
"Guys that pipe services about a quarter of the toilets above us, that's gonna be messy," Hen comments from the doorway as Buck, Bobby, and Chimney continue tearing down the wall. "Oh, shoot. Which means, even with the water off, if somebody flushes a toilet above us, it could drown the baby."
Buck glances back at that, quick enough to catch Hen dropping her bag and rushing out of the room. He turns back to the wall, helping Bobby finish tearing at it. Soon he's helping keep the pipe stable as Bobby cuts at one end. Once he steps back, Chimney comes in, beginning to cut below Buck when suddenly the two are sprayed with an oncoming flow of water from above. The two cringe, and Chimney cuts faster, eventually getting through the pipe.
The three lift it out of the wall and gently hold it up while Bobby shines a light inside of it, getting a good look at the head of the baby. They gently set it down, Chimney cutting at the pipe once again to make it easier for the baby to slide out. They lift the pipe once more, carrying it out of the bathroom and setting it on the table.
Chimney's at the head of the pipe, hands prepared to gently slide the baby out.
"You gotta push from below," Buck instructs, and Bobby wastes no time getting at the other end of the pipe.
"Get the defibrillator," Bobby instructs, and Chim looks at the captain as if he's grown a second head.
"Are you nuts?"
"Just the lube, Buck," but the youngest is already setting the machine on the table. Bobby opens it up, grabbing the lube as Buck puts the machine back on the floor. Bobby squeezes it all among both ends of the pipe, rubbing it in before beginning to push once more.
"Hen, get the ambulance ready." Footsteps echo signaling Hen's exit.
Soon the head is peaking out and the baby is sliding out, eyes closed, unmoving. Lifeless. Just as his daughter had. And he's anxiously waiting for Chim and Bobby to hurry up.
When she's out, Buck's taking the towel off his shoulder and gently wiping the nastiness off her face.
"Ok, she's not breathing, starting CPR." Bobby takes the tips of his fingers and gently but firmly begins chest compressions. Nothing.
"Maybe her airway's blocked," Chim offers, and Buck jumps up immediately.
"I'll get the suction cup."
He grabs it quickly, pinching her mouth open and working to get whatever gunk is stuck in her throat out. "Bobby, it's not working."
Bobby gets back in, digging with his pinky and sighing in relief as he gets the blockage out. Soon, the little girl is back to crying, rightfully so after almost dying. Bobby quickly wraps her up, rushing out the door followed by Chim and Buck.
"Nobody held the elevator?" Bobby says as the three make it to the stairwell.
"I guess not," Chim moves around Bobby, frantically pushing at the button as if it'll make the elevator move even faster.
"Give her to me," Bobby immediately reels away from Buck, and Buck can reasonably understand why, but all he sees is Aimée, being kept away just out of his reach. "No, come on. I'm twice as fast, come on!"
And Bobby sees it, the pain. The same pain he feels. It's welling in Buck's eyes, trembling in his voice, and he hands the child over. He pats Buck on the back as he begins descending the stairs, holding the small girl close, breathing words of comfort the whole way down.
"I got you, we're gonna be okay."
"You're gonna be fine."
"We're almost there."
"I got you, Aimée."
Buck comes rushing out the complex and down the steps to the waiting ambulance. "I got her! I got her! Get ready!" He hops into the back of the ambulance. "Let's go, let's go!"
One door closes before an officer comes rushing back over, opening the door. Following behind her is a man carrying a young woman bridal style, and all Buck can see is red.
"Is that the mother? No. Screw her!" And it's harsh, because he shouldn't be refusing to offer medical aid but all he can think about is his—the baby in his arms, almost losing her life by being flushed down the toilet by an unloving mother. "Look what she did!"
"She's a child!" the officer argues back.
"Hey!" Bobby is rushing over instantly. "We gotta go!"
The officer guffaws, looking from the ambulance to Bobby. "He's refusing to take her!"
Buck stutters but Bobby doesn't have the time to hear it. He grabs the young woman, handing her to Chim who climbs in followed by Bobby. Chim situates the girl on the stretcher, Bobby plopping down beside Buck. Buck leans over Bobby, glaring at the woman at the doors.
"If this baby dies, it's on you."
The door closes and Buck turns his gaze back to the girl in his arms.
"Buck, give me the baby."
"No."
"Buck—"
"No!"
"Bu—"
"I have her Bobby!" Buck shouts, and Bobby reels back from the wild look in Buck's eyes. And then he's tearing his gaze away, breathing deeply and looking back down at the baby. "I got you, it's okay."
Once the doors are opening, Buck is hopping out smiling brightly down at the little girl. "Told you we'd make it, didn't I?"
One eye cracks open, and Buck will forever go on believing that she is smiling right back at him. He places her gently on the stretcher, cooing at her as the doctors stabilize her and begin rolling her inside. He begins following, and Bobby grabs his arm, pulling him back.
"Where're you going?"
"That baby's alive because of us. Don't we have some kind of obligation—"
"I'll give 'em a call. See if they tell us if she's okay. There's nothing more we can do. We did our jobs very well today, just be proud of that." Tears are building up in his eyes, as he watches the stretcher disappear from his view. Buck turns away from the glass doors, blinking the tears away and swallowing the sob bubbling in his throat. "You and me. We're gonna have a talk later. Maybe you'll tell me who Aim—"
"Don't!" Buck cuts Bobby off quick, a hand out to stop him from finishing the word. He turns to Bobby, tears gone but eyes still weary. "Please, don't."
"Okay, when the time's right, talk to me. Deal?"
Buck nods and a small but sure smile works its way onto his face. A black and white cruiser screeches to a halt right in front of the two, and the officer from earlier angrily hops out the driver's seat, storming towards Buck.
"Hey! You do not get to choose who lives and who dies."
"Really? Cause I was under the impression that kinda was my job."
"That mother was no less of a child than her baby! You can get someone killed."
"Well, maybe, but . . ." Buck glances back at the hospital and then to the officer, smugly. "Not today."
"Yeah, you keep making jokes. I promise you the next time you screw up, it'll be your last."
She angrily storms back to the cruiser, driving off as he turns back to a disappointed looking Bobby.
"What?"
"Get in the truck."
/
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Help. . . Can't breathe. . ."
"I can't understand you. Are you saying you can't breathe?"
"777 Detroit Avenue. . . it's choking me. . ."
"I have the fire department on the way. Who is choking you? Do you know him?"
"My snake. . ."
/
"LA Fire!" Bobby calls as he kicks in the door, leading the crew through the seemingly empty home. "Alright guys, check all these rooms."
"Anybody here?" Chim calls, stepping into one.
"LA Fire!" Bobby calls once more as the four step into a large room containing a tree, which a long boa constrictor hisses at them from.
"Oh my god. Can't do snakes, they scare the crap outta me," Chim says, eyes glued fearfully to the snake hissing at the intruders. "A scene from Conan the Barbarian with a giant snake, it traumatized me for life. I can't."
"What's Conan?" Buck asks.
"Conan the Barbarian, Arnold Schwarzenegger, 1982. Jesus."
"Far as I'm concerned the world began the day I was born."
"Guys, in here!" Bobby calls. "Back here guys, now."
They rush to the back of the room where they find a ginger haired lady, a large boa coiled tightly around her neck.
"We gotta help her get some air guys."
"Bobby, it's no use. That thing is like ten feet long and constriction strength is like fifty pounds per square inch."
"Oh my god, I'm gonna start calling you Snakepedia, stop it."
"All I'm saying is that you stand a chance at tearing at a cement wall with your bare hands."
"Why don't I just punch it in its face?"
"You can't punch it in the face, Buck, it's a snake. It's not some guy at an El Torito happy hour."
"Look, I have dilaudid. We can inject the snake; it'll pass right out."
"How much time is that gonna take?"
"Minutes. Minutes we don't have. I think we're gonna have to put it down."
"Kill it!"
"Kill it? No! No. Um no."
"Kill it, just kill it."
"It's a snake. It's doing what nature intended for it to do. Nobody told this fool to bring a snake into her house."
"Yeah? Well, I'll make a donation to PETA for you. . . Crap, it's getting real tight."
"Alright, stand back. We don't have time for this."
"Buck!"
"Wait! No!"
And it's the same scenario from earlier, only this time Bobby isn't there to jump in the way, and the blade cuts the head of the snake clean. Blood splatters a bit. Chimney gags from his spot in the doorway. The woman sighs in relief at the immediate release of tension on her neck.
"Wow," Hen shakes her head disappointingly. "Why is that the only first option for you white boy macho tough guys?"
"Guys, I'm totally gonna take credit for this with Tatianna. Gonna get me laid for a week, thank you."
The woman sighs sadly, murmuring the name of her beheaded snake.
"Yeah, well it was him or you and, uh, when faced with a situation like that, I always choose to save the more attractive one."
The woman smiles up at Buck knowingly. "Is that right?"
"Okay, hard pass. I'm gonna skip the part where the two. . . idiots flirt."
"You can expect a visit from animal control," Bobby sighs, rolling his eyes at Buck's antics.
Bobby leaves the room and the woman faces Buck once more, flashing him her pearly whites.
"Hey Buck." Buck startles, leaning back from locking lips to find Bobby seething. "Huh. The snake hoarder? Really?"
"I'm a collector, I'm not a hoarder."
"I think you should probably leave."
"Um, did you follow me here?" Buck asks, quickly redoing his pants.
"The truck has a GPS beacon, moron."
"Call me later if you're free. I'll be at home," She purses her lips at Bobby. "Alone."
The moment she walks off, Bobby turns his glare on Buck. "You're fired."
"Wha. . . ? Wait, that's not fair, you said I got three strikes."
"Doesn't matter. You made this choice yourself and you rubbed it in my face. The same exact infraction two days after I wrote you up. It's not 1950 anymore, Buck, we work with women side by side. When you swing your dick around, you disrespect them."
"Wait, Bobby, I- I think I may be a sex addict." Buck shrugs sheepishly. "Self-diagnosed."
Bobby storms back over to Buck angrier than before. "You think this is a joke?"
"No."
"This a joke to you!?"
Buck stumbles back and for a second, it's not Bobby storming towards him, it's Daniel. "N- no."
"How much does your kit weigh when you're fully geared up? How much?"
"I- I don't know. Sixty pounds. Give or take."
"Right, sixty pounds. So, you choose this life, you find a way to leave everything behind you except that sixty pounds. I don't care if you got problems with your wife, with money, with alcohol, with keeping it in your pants, all that weighs you down, it slows you down and if we lose a couple seconds, people die. So, you wanna disrespect yourself, that's fine with me. You wanna disrespect these women that you chase around, that's on them. But you are done disrespecting our firehouse and this fire department."
Bobby begins to stalk away yet again, and fear spikes deep in Buck, driving him forward. "No, Bobby! Bobby! I need this job. Look, I love this job. Don't do this to me. I don't have anything else." No wife. No children. No family to turn to.
"I'm sorry, kid."
Buck solemnly packs up his things. He ignores the whispers, focusing on stuffing his items in his bag and trying to figure out who to call. His sister was a no-go. His mom eventually left Owen, which was disappointing seeing as Buck really likes Owen, and he hasn't heard from her since. Owen, he'll try there. Last time he'd talked to his dad, TK was following in his footsteps, joining the same house as Owen.
Buck looks up at movement in the corner of his eye, and sees Hen sitting down with a sigh.
"I guess you heard?"
"Yeah. . . For what it's worth, everyone thinks it sucks."
"It's my own fault."
"Yeah. . . everyone thinks that, too." Buck shakes his head but continues to pull stuff out of his—the locker. "I'll be honest, when Bobby first brought you on board, I told him 'you should just get a dalmatian instead'. But I'm legit sorry to see you go. You got some skills, just not a lot of discipline."
Hen notices Buck tense slightly at the words but doesn't say anything as he looks to her. "Look, I um. . . I don't suppose you could talk to him for me?"
The bell rings, and Chimney comes running past the two. Bobby sticks his head in. "Hen, let's roll."
Buck doesn't say anything, doesn't glance at Bobby. He stares hard at the locker, barely acknowledging the comforting hand Hen places on his shoulder before leaving. It isn't until the trucks are pulling out that he watches them go, catching Bobby's gaze in the side mirror.
/
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"Help me, please! They're outside. They're trying to break in. My mom's not home from work yet. I'm by myself! I don't know what to do!"
"Okay, okay. Stay calm. What's your name?"
"Lily."
"Lily, how old are you?"
"I'm nine."
"Okay, Lily, my name is Abby. I'm gonna try to help you. What's your address?"
"I don't know, we just moved here!"
"Do you know what street you live on?"
"Um. . . Lambert."
"Okay, Lambert."
"Please hurry!"
"Okay, Lily. Lily?"
/
Buck sighs, shutting the locker and slowly making his way out of the fire house for the last time when his phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Buck!"
"Hen?"
"You don't have anywhere to be, right?"
"Is this some cruel, twisted joke?"
"Good, I have a friend, she needs you to be somewhere in less than five minutes."
The cruiser rolls to a stop next to the firetruck Buck borrowed (with permission this time!). The window rolls down and low and behold, it's the officer from earlier.
"She sent you, huh?"
"I was available."
"Alright," the officer takes off her shades, her brown eyes meeting Buck's blue ones. "No heroics. Don't go chasing waterfalls."
"I don't know what that means."
"Nobody thought you would."
Buck sighs before leisurely driving about the streets, honking the horn loudly to be heard. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the officer—who he's learned is Sergeant Athena Grant—is in his ear.
"That's it. You just passed her, cowboy."
Buck looks out the window, spotting a pink bicycle leaning against a brown house. He cuts the siren off. "Oh yeah, I see the pink bike."
In his rearview mirror, he spots a blue Subaru pulling into the driveway. Quickly, he hops out, rushing to her as she climbs out of the driver seat.
"Hey! Emma! Emma Coughlin?"
"Yeah." She says in confusion as Buck moves to guide her away from the house.
"You can't go in there right now."
"What? Um, is there a fire?"
"No, there's no fire just get behind the truck."
He helps her climb into the truck, moving quickly around to the other side and hopping in himself. He brings his phone back up to his ear where he hears shouting on the line, then another voice.
"Fireman Buckley," There was a slight pang in his heart, knowing he isn't a firefighter anymore. "What's going on there?"
"I don't know. . ." his sentence falls short when the front door opens and a screaming Lily is forced into the sunlight, followed by an older man. "Ah crap."
The man throws her to the ground and takes off, and Emma wastes no time hurrying out of the truck and over to her daughter, Buck following her. He quickly jumps in front of the two, watching as the suspect takes off on a motorcycle.
Athena comes rushing out the house, yelling into her radio, and Buck rushes back over the truck, climbing to the top as quick as he can. The cruiser at the end of street blocks the suspect's bike, forcing him to turn back around and drive back towards the mother and daughter, whom Athena quickly rushes out of the way. The man points his gun, attention so focused on Athena that he doesn't see it coming when a strong spray of water sends him flying across the lawn of the house.
Buck smiles triumphantly as the man remains on the grass, groaning from the "pain". Athena looks up in surprise at Buck, nodding respectively before heading over to apprehend the fallen man.
"Fireman Buckley, what's happening there?"
Buck hastily pulls his phone out of his pocket and brings it back to his ear.
"I heard a gunshot. Is Lily ok? Where is she?"
"The little girl? She's good, she's back with her mom and you should be here."
"Oh my god. . . I feel like I am. Wow, um. . . okay. Well, I can't thank you enough. I. . . I'm so grateful. You saved that little girl and—"
"No, you did. You kept her in the game long enough for us to find her. You're the real hero here."
"Well, I appreciate you saying that. Thank you."
/
Bobby and Hen are standing expectantly when Buck pulls the truck back into the firehouse. He opens the door and Bobby is there, a serious look on his face and arms crossed over his chest. Buck sighs as he hops out, closing the door behind him.
"I know what this looks like. . ."
"Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes."
"I didn't really have time to change."
"Athena Grant called me. Wanted to tell me what an asset you are. Told her she was half right."
"You're giving me another chance?"
"You've used all your chances, and so have I. Because somehow I have failed to communicate with you how lucky we are to do what we do."
"You're wrong, Bobby." Buck begins, following Bobby this time as he begins to walk away. "I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here and you know what? You were right to fire me. I was a punk. I still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just needed you to know that."
"I hope you mean that. . . Go get dressed."
Bobby walks off, and Buck can't help the shit eating grin that slowly wins the battle on his face as he turns to Hen, eyebrows comically raising high.
"I think I'm not fired."
"Your shifts not over yet."
Buck chuckles, leaning against the truck and relishing in the feeling of it not being his last day before wasting not a second longer and hurrying to the locker room.