Every Breath You Take (I'll be watching you…)
Summary: Buddie fic. Mysterious gifts start appearing at the firehouse for Buck from a secret admirer, but as the gifts get progressively more sinister and the 118 grow increasingly worried, they must uncover the mystery before someone close to them gets seriously hurt, or worse. Protective!Eddie. Established Buddie relationship. Follows on from Turning Point but can be read as a standalone.
Disclaimer: I do not own 9-1-1 or anything associated with the show.
Author Notes: Thank you for reading! I love writing these characters so much.
Set after season 6.
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Chapter 7
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Sneaking into the office of the Midnight Ace had been far too easy. Not that Eddie was complaining. He was disturbed at how easy it was, but certainly not complaining. Chimney had been about to say something about how lucky they had been that none of the officers looked their way or noticed the sound of the door to the office closing, and Eddie had cut him off.
"Stop right there," Eddie interrupted, holding up his hand, "before you jinx us."
He recognised the words coming from his lips far too late to stop the sly and cocky smile sliding onto Chimney's face, and damn it… Buck was rubbing off on him. Buck and his little superstitions that he let slip every so often. Between him and the rest of the 118, it was a wonder Eddie hadn't broken sooner.
"Don't," he growled out, before Chimney could say what was so clearly glistening in the mischief of his eyes.
Chimney cleared his throat, holding his hands up in defeat. "I wasn't gonna…"
"Sure…"
Eddie circled the desk and began rummaging through the folders and papers scattered there as Chimney looked around the rest of the room. There was a lot there that meant absolutely nothing to him and would do little to help them. Keg orders, maintenance fees, and something about upcoming events that needed licencing. But the dark blue folder hidden beneath all that, the one that had 'Schedule' written across the side and front in thick letters, that he knew would definitely help.
He flipped through the pages, trying to remember the dates of the two calls they had based at the club. He was thankful that whoever kept the schedule was organised to the point of using different colour codes and neatly divided columns spaced out and clear. The schedule at the station was more a case of organised chaos that everyone just knew.
"Hey, Chimney, check this out," he said, finding the pages he needed. Chimney came to stand beside him and he flipped the pages back and forth. "David Carter. Only person to work both nights. What's the betting he's our guy?"
"You're forgetting about tonight."
But Eddie shook his head and turned to the page with that night's schedule on, finding the name easily. He sunk a little though as he thought about just how little they could do with a name. The police had a whole database to look through, but they didn't even have a computer to help them. It seemed the Midnight Ace didn't believe in a computer system, at least not one that was located in the office. "But how do we find him?"
"I think I can help with that," Chimney said, and he moved away from Eddie toward a filing cabinet he had been looking at before. It didn't take him long to look inside and pull out a file. As he opened it, he breathed in sharply and swallowed before raising his eyes to Eddie. "Well, would you look at that?"
Eddie moved closer and Chimney held the file out to him, a personnel file with several pages – the top one being a photocopy of a driver's licence with a very familiar looking photo. That all but confirmed it to Eddie. David Carter was the one who had Buck. He was the one who had been on the phone to 911 that first call and he had been there on the second call out too.
Now they had his name, and thanks to the driver's licence, his address.
-.-.-.-.-
Raising a shaky hand, Buck looked down at his palm, thinking over what he remembered of the night. Athena had given him a run-down of how things would go, telling him what to expect and pointing out the other officers that would be with them in the club. She assured him that the second Harris showed up, they would know about it. Except, it hadn't been Harris. It hadn't been Harris who had been plying him with dosed drinks and it hadn't been Harris periodically checking in on him, bringing up calls from years ago, calls that Buck found himself thinking about less and less.
The County Fair Spider-Man.
The name felt like a punch to the gut. He hated it then and he hated it now. The media had dubbed him a hero after climbing up the tracks of a rollercoaster to save the people trapped there. But when that kid had let go, when he had fallen to his death, Buck had never felt less like a hero than then. But the media ran with it, interviewing him and plastering his face across television screens, when all he wanted to do was hide away.
"Damn, kid," not-Bobby said, "you look like hell, and that's coming from me. I'm not even real."
Buck tried to ignore him, tried to pretend that he couldn't see him and hear him and feel him there, watching him, standing just out of reach. He swallowed the painful memories and closed his eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Hey, don't ask me," not-Bobby scoffed, "I'm not the one hallucinating."
Buck wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that, and he wasn't given the chance, footsteps echoing from beyond the metal door. Both his and not-Bobby's heads snapped toward it, watching it carefully.
"Uh-oh, looks like you've got company." And as the door opened, not-Bobby met Buck's eyes and held a finger to his lips and really, Buck was beginning to realise that his subconscious was an ass.
He wasn't sure what he expected when the door opened and the bartender from earlier entered the room meekly with a tray in hand. He seemed to catch Buck's eyes lingering on the open doorway and smiled, closing the door with his foot before focusing his attention on Buck once more and ducking his head to try and catch Buck's gaze.
"I brought you something to eat," David said, holding up the tray a little. "It's not much, just leftover pizza. I'm not a very good cook and I really wasn't expecting this… At least not tonight. But you were there. You were right there and I knew, I knew it was a sign. Just like you showing up the other night."
Buck gripped the mattress tightly, unable to speak and unwilling to. What were you supposed to say to the guy who had been sending you creepy gifts for weeks and now had you locked in some concrete room that looked a hell of a lot like a basement?
"Oh," David said, putting the tray down on floor and picking up something from it that looked suspiciously like a needle and vial, "before I forget. I just need to…" He motioned with the needle and vial toward Buck. "Believe me when I say I really don't want to. I really, really don't… but I have to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
Not-Bobby leaned over David's shoulder and bobbed his head as he met Buck's eyes again. "Oh, this is the good stuff."
David moved forward, tentatively as if he was approaching a caged beast. But Buck didn't feel like much of a threat in that moment. Even as he tried to stand, he could feel his legs giving way, needing the support of the bed until he fell back down onto it.
"Don't worry, it won't be as strong as the last one. Just enough to keep you…" David motioned toward Buck and Buck understood completely.
Just enough to keep him weak. Enough to keep it so David had the advantage.
"They'll be looking for me," Buck forced out, thinking of Athena and Eddie and the real Bobby, who would all be out there looking for him because they would know he was gone by now. Right?
"And I'll protect you from them."
"Protect me?"
David nodded. "Yes, just like I protected you from the others."
Buck felt his chest tighten. Others? Plural? He already knew about what David had done to Fredrick Galloway, the drunk guy. The guy whose name Buck would not be forgetting anytime soon. He dreaded to think about who else David had decided he needed protecting from and as the thought crossed his mind, as the memory of the photo and suspicious blood stain flashed up, he really wished he hadn't allowed himself to think about it. Harris… The guy was a creep, but did he really deserve whatever David had probably done to him?
"You killed him," Buck breathed out, barely even realising the words had left his mouth.
"Well, yeah," David scoffed. "I had to. He was dangerous-"
Buck looked up at David at that, eyes deadened, glare hard and implication clear, causing David to shake his head and frown.
"-no, no! I know what you're thinking and no! I am not… I am not dangerous."
Buck's eyes flicked to the needle briefly then back David's face. "Then what are you?"
"I'm the person you should be with. I'm the one who will give you everything you deserve. I just… I just need you to realise it first."
-.-.-.-.-
Locked doors are generally locked for a reason. As such, they should only be opened with a key and permission. But Eddie didn't care about permission and, being a firefighter, a key could come in the shape of an axe, or a brick through a window pane, or in this case – a firm boot in the right place. One broken lock later, and he and Chimney were inside the home of David Carter.
It was an apartment on the third floor of a small building. Nothing about it seemed suspicious or creepy or stalkerish, at least not until they entered the back bedroom where the windows had been papered over to block out the world beyond. Eddie flicked the light switch and swallowed hard at the sight in front of him. He didn't even know where to look first.
The room was barely larger than a closet, which he tried to reason was why everything looked so much worse, so much more. The wall opposite the windows was painted with newspaper clipping and snapshots, some looking much newer than others. He touched a photo of Buck, feeling his stomach churn at the sight of the firehouse in the background. It was still vibrant and full of colour, unlike some of the faded articles that sat behind it, articles about the 118, about a hero firefighter, about Buck…
"Eddie…" Chimney choked out and Eddie turned around to see him lingering by a table with several monitors. "I er… I'm not sure you wanna see this."
He held up a DVD and Eddie took it from him, turning it over in his hands to read Buck's name written there. He felt sick at the thought of what could be on it, but he swallowed the fear and turned to the nearest monitor, pushing the DVD into the player. He needed to know.
The screen flickered and began to play, a recording of an old news segment flashing up. He recognised the image of a young firefighter Buck immediately, recognised the lost look in his eyes, the uncomfortable way he held himself and stumbled over his words.
"I don't remember this," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes and pausing the DVD.
"County fair," Chimney answered with a heavy breath. "It happened almost a year before you joined us. Not one of Buck's fondest memories. He lost one of the people he was trying to save… took it pretty hard."
"He looks so young."
Chimney nodded before leaning in closer and narrowing his eyes. He tapped at the screen and looked to Eddie. "He's not the only one."
"Is that…?" Eddie started to ask, and Chimney finished his thought for him.
"Our mysterious bartender, yeah, I believe it is."
"What's he doing there?"
"If I had to guess," Chimney answered, holding up a newspaper article from the table, "I'd say he was being rescued."
Eddie looked down at the paper, taking in the headline and photo. ROLLERCOASTER DISASTER SURVIVORS WIN LAWSUIT. "How long has this guy been watching Buck?"
Chimney began shuffling at other things on the table, revealing more photographs. Eddie didn't know whether or not to feel relieved that Buck was in none of them. Instead, there were others, maybe two or three repeat faces, mostly from a distance, but the one photo that truly caught Eddie's eye was the one taken in a dark room, that, as he looked closer, he realised was a bedroom with a single sleeping person.
"You know, I've heard about stuff like this," Chimney started, and Eddie raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm serious… though usually it's like serial killers or something. Instead of going after the person they're fixated on, they focus on others that remind them of that person. This is some Criminal Minds shit right here. All these photos, these people, he's probably been stalking them but then, seeing Buck in person again probably triggered something and he decided only the real deal was good enough."
"Then where is he?" Eddie asked, taking a breath and looking around the small room. "Why aren't they here?"
"And this is why you'll never make a criminal mastermind." Chimney shook his head, moving to rummage through the drawers next to the table now. "He's probably got him stashed somewhere else. Somewhere-"
Eddie frowned at Chimney's sudden pause and looked back to him. "Somewhere?"
Chimney held up his hand and the small stack of photos he gripped in it. More victims. He began looking through them as Eddie moved to the drawer to continue in the search. What he was searching for, he had no idea, but he would search regardless.
"You know, there's a few more here of these erm… people sleeping."
"You're wondering how he's getting into the apartments." Eddie looked to him, raising an eyebrow.
"Either he's a master locksmith," Chimney said, and Eddie finished for him as he held up a jingling mass of keys.
"Or he had access."
"Why would he-" Chimney started, but he was cut off by a sudden sound from behind them, a sudden presence and voice calling out.
"Freeze," the familiar voice commanded. "Now, hands up and turn around slo- You two? Seriously?"
Hands up, Eddie and Chimney turned to face Athena, Chimney wearing a sheepish smile whilst Eddie could barely meet her eyes.
"Hey, Athena," Chimney offered up, before tilting to see the figure approaching from behind her. "Hey, Cap!"
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A/N: More soon...