Evan Buckley loved holidays. He loved the big, exciting ones like Christmas and the Fourth of July, but he also celebrated the small ones - Presidents' Day and Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. They were everything he missed as a child, the days spent at home with a loving, caring family to swaddle him in warm embraces and enjoy just being.
They were everything he never had, and he was bound and determined he'd never miss another one.
There was, however, one holiday that Buck despised.
New Year's Eve.
It used to be one of his favorites; the anticipation, excitement, fireworks, and joy for the upcoming year used to have him thrumming with happiness for days before the turning of the new year..
Now, he dreaded it.
He holed up in his apartment, the doors locked, the blinds tightly closed, and the curtains drawn shut. He shoved himself as far into the corner of his bed as he could get, anchoring himself in place with his broad shoulders braced against each corner of his bedroom. He drew his legs up to his chest and rested against them, wincing everytime a firework would go off in the distance.
It was only 8:30 and people were already participating in the chaos of the holiday.
Every other year, Buck would work New Year's. He'd always enjoyed working holidays - not just for the pay, but that was an added bonus - but because he loved seeing the people. Their energy was always contagious, and even if he was called to some of the most idiotic scenes, he always looked forward to them.
This year, though, this year he wasn't looking forward to the upcoming cycle around the sun. No, this year he was caught up in the memories of last New Year's Eve.
Buck was in good spirits, and the other firefighters around him were just as elated to be at the station to watch the ball drop on time this year. Often, they would be out on a call and miss the turning of the year, but this night everything had been unusually calm.
Warning bells were going off in the back of Buck's mind, but he studiously ignored them, hoping against hope that maybe it was telling of the year to come rather than anything bad. Maybe the next months would bring good tidings and they'd all be able to relax after the last few chaotic years.
Looking back, he'd never know how he could have been so foolish.
Working with other men and women as closely as firefighters had to - to trust someone else to watch your back in a burning building with your life hanging in the balance was nothing if not a test of trust each and every day - Buck had learned to lean on those around him. Not only for the physically demanding aspects of their job, but also emotionally. He'd come into firefighting a complete novice, but just by watching and being around experienced people in the field, he'd gained his own experience with dealing with loss and overloads of emotion that came with the job of first responders.
All that to say that when, earlier today, a floater had walked into the firehouse and slotted himself into the shift with ease, Buck hadn't blinked. The man was huge, his unusually light skin a stark contrast to the bright hazel of his eyes, and his large, muscular frame stood almost as tall as Buck's own. All of that to say the man looked competent and ready to do his job. There was something off about the man, though, and for the life of him Buck couldn't figure out what it was.
It was only after they'd returned from the second call of the night - a young man had set off some fireworks with his girlfriend, and let's just say that the emergency room was the only place they'd be seeing action for some time - when the newcomer, Jason McDurmot, was stripping out of his turnouts when Buck finally pieced it all together.
McDurmot had been bashing the young couple ever since they'd arrived on scene. It hadn't been anything over the top, they'd all been horrified when they saw what they were dealing with. The young man had lost most of the fingers on one hand and had also somehow managed to send a firework straight into his parents' house, which had quickly caught fire and was blazing steadily when Buck and Co. arrived. His girlfriend, a beautiful young black woman, was holding tightly to the pale Asian man's uninjured hand and hadn't let go until the paramedics had loaded him in the back of the ambulance.
The subtle slurs, however, barely spoken aloud, were enough to clue Buck into the inner workings of his newest teammate. It gave him something to consider, a worrying aspect of any first responder, but something that Buck felt the higher ups needed to be aware of. Racism was a serious deficit when working with the public, and something that should have been noticed long ago in a firefighter with McDurmot's experience. Action needed to be taken, and Buck wasn't shy about doing so.
That being said, Buck decided to keep his thoughts to himself until he could alert the proper authority. Until, however, he saw the tattoo on McDurmot's side.
The swastika was barely the size of a half-dollar, but there it was in blazing right angles for the whole world to see. But it seemed Buck was the only one who did.
He barely froze upon being confronted with such blatant disregard for people, but he quickly gathered himself when he saw McDurmot looking at him with a question in his eyes. The large man quickly realized the issue, however, when he lowered his arms and found, much to his chagrin, that his shirt had ridden up. It was obviously something that McDurmot took pains to hide, and Buck quickly finished his turnouts, and departed with little fanfare. He did his damndest to avoid the man for the rest of shift, but he could feel those eyes following him wherever he went. Tension kept his body tense and he knew he should tell someone, but he didn't have anyone on shift that he trusted, not like he trusted his team.
It was a waiting game, and as the end of shift drew nearer, tension ratcheted up until Buck could feel himself sweating through his LAFD shirt, the anxiety making his heart race and his head feel light.
It wasn't until they were all holding plastic champagne flutes of sparkling cider that he felt the presence at his back and knew that things were about to go downhill. The ball was dropping on the TV, people were dancing and laughing all around him, and he felt something sharp to the left of his spine, a firm hand on his shoulder next to his neck, and hot breath against his ear as a low, menacing voice whispered, "Showers. Now. Don't do anything stupid, Buckley."
The words sent a shiver down Buck's spine, and fear propelled him forward, offering shuttered smiles to those he saw, before they moved down the loft stairs and onto the first floor. It was now or never, Buck thought, once he saw the bathroom door. If they made it in there, there was no going back.
Buck didn't allow himself to think of the consequences of his actions, didn't allow himself to think about what could happen if they did make it past that door - he just knew that it would be awful and something he could never recover from.
He just had to do something.
The sharp point was still at his back, but he couldn't feel it digging into his flesh anymore. The hand on his neck wasn't as tight, allowing for the blonde's longer stride and forceful steps. Buck took a larger step forward, giving himself room to maneuver, and stepped off his lead foot to swing back around towards McDurmot. The man's eyes blew wide in surprise for a split second until a sadistic grin took its place, and Buck felt the terror he'd so far been able to repress spring to life. It gave his limbs the extra jolt he needed and he surged towards the man's face.
But Buck was too late, his movements too slow, or just predictable, because McDurmot followed the movement with his own and brought the knife Buck could now see into his other hand, following through and slamming the three inch blade solidly into Buck's side even as Buck's right arm connected with the other man's cheek.
Buck didn't even realize he'd been hit until he felt the knife sliding from his side with a wet slurp. As the blade's tip cleared his flesh, he felt the heat of agony surge through his veins and a moan poured from his open, panting mouth. His hands unerringly found the wound and he lost all the strength in his legs when he put pressure on the gushing puncture. He started to go down, but was stopped by rough hands.
"Oh, no you don't," McDurmot growled, grabbing the front of Buck's shirt in two meaty fists before dragging the injured man into the bathroom.
Buck watched with pain filled eyes as his last sight of safety was lost to him as the bathroom door closed beyond his booted feet.
"Please, no, please. Stop, please. You don't have to do this, please. I won't say anything, I promise" he finally gasped, his eyes closing against the harsh lights of the bathroom, the swirling of his vision making him sick.
The pain in his abdomen was enough to fog his thoughts and Buck didn't have the strength to fight back when McDurmot threw him to the back of the furthest shower stall, his back connecting with the handle of the shower before gravity took over and he collapsed heavily on the floor. The pain didn't even register, it just added to the ache of his already struggling body.
He didn't have the wherewithal to stop the man as his boots were removed. His socks. His zip-up jacket. His shirt.
His pants.
Clad only in his underwear, Buck shivered as freezing water suddenly hit him in the face, the cold linoleum beneath him becoming slick with more than his blood. He watched drolly, disconnected from his body, as swirls of pink escaped down the drain.
Oh, how he wished he could do the same.
But the hand that fisted in his hair and slammed his head back against the shower wall had other ideas. He wished the darkness that blotted out his vision for a moment would just consume him, but his wishes went unanswered.
A face was suddenly inches from his, and Buck had no choice but to meet the eyes of his attacker. The menace in those hazel eyes was enough to make his heart skip a beat and he knew, suddenly, with a clarity that he'd thought had abandoned him, what was about to happen.
Buck's eyes blew wide and his tired, uncoordinated limbs flailed at his abuser, connecting but never solidly enough to do much damage. "No, no, no! Stop!" the words seemed so loud in the bathroom, but Buck knew that they were pointless. No one would hear him. Not with the festivities upstairs and the fireworks he could still were going off outside.
Blood loss and fatigue were catching up with the young firefighter and his sudden burst of adrenaline fueled frenzy tapered off into lethargic pounding of his too heavy fists against the brick wall that was McDurmot's chest.
The man was not to be dissuaded. He watched with dispassionate eyes as Buck exhausted himself, the blood still pouring from his side with abandon, his eyes rolling in their sockets, and his breaths coming too fast and too shallow.
There was no stopping him as calloused hands drew down the boxers and flipped the younger man on his stomach.
"You tell anyone about this, or what you've seen, and I'll come back for you. You make me do that, and this will look like a picnic compared to what I'll do to you. You understand?" McDurmot growled fiercely, his body heavy on Buck's legs as he leaned over the nearly insensate man.
Then he began to move.
And Buck was gone.
He didn't reappear until he felt the weight leave his thighs.
Until the hands that had hurt him so horrifically backed off and he felt nothing but the pounding of the shower washing away the unwanted touch.
Until he could gather enough of himself from the shattered remnants of his person to slide his arms underneath himself and slowly draw his shaking body into the corner of the stall.
He shivered there for seconds. Minutes. Hours. He didn't even know.
But by the time someone finally came into the bathroom, there were no signs of what had happened.
No blood from the attack in the hallway.
No discarded clothing littering the floor.
No bruised, battered, and broken Buck shivering in the corner.
The bathroom was as it had always been.
Buck didn't go back in for months.
The memories were enough to have Buck curl further into himself, the shame of what he'd let happen searing through his brain on repeat.
He'd struggled back into his clothes, his body slick with water, sweat, bodily fluids, and blood, but he'd tried his best to hide the damage. He'd been lucky shift was almost over. No one questioned his quick departure, figuring he probably had someone back home to get to and celebrate with.
They couldn't have been more wrong.
Everyone he loved was still holding him at a distance, it was why he'd had so many shifts with other teams since the lawsuit. Things were getting better, the team was slowly allowing him to reintegrate himself into their folds, but he didn't want to push anything by assuming they wanted him with them for the holidays. He had done the same on Christmas, telling everyone that he had plans whenever he was asked, but never giving specifics.
No one asked twice.
So instead of heading to the house where he knew he'd be safe, he settled painfully into the seat of his Jeep and sagged against the steering wheel and tried to convince himself to drive to the loft.
Instead of allowing himself to break apart in the arms of the man he'd not so secretly loved for years, he made himself turn the key in the ignition and start the short drive back to the loft where he finally broke apart.
He had four days off, and in those four days, Buck didn't see a soul.
He allowed the darkness to eat at him, allowed the memories of those hands to keep him up until the wee hours of the morning when the light banished the darkness from his mind and bathed him in a light he didn't feel worthy of.
He took countless showers, but they were never enough to erase the feeling of those hands on his skin, the breath on his neck, the violation of his body.
His mind was a cesspool of self-deprecation and hate that spilled forth like an overflowing dam that hadn't been loosed in decades.
He allowed himself those four days to completely fall apart, so that he could slowly start to rebuild himself.
When he went back to work, the agony of his punctured side was enough to keep the memory fresh, as was the sharp stab of pain in his core everytime he took a step. But he also had the pleasure of working with his team again. His family. And he could never give them any reason to doubt him, so when calls came in and he was needed in the harness, to carry heavy weights, to run into burning buildings and carry people out on his shoulders, he did it all with a smile on his face.
Because if he didn't smile, he'd cry, and he never wanted his family to see just how far he'd let himself fall.
What he didn't know was that they'd noticed. Of course they had, how could they not? They just didn't know how to ask him what was wrong. By the time any of them were on good enough footing with him to actually ask, the young man seemed to be himself again and they couldn't bring themselves to question the young man when he finally seemed to be putting whatever had happened behind him.
Six months. That had been six months of recovery for Buck. A recovery he'd suffered alone, and in silence.
It had been hard, but he'd done it.
He had gone to support groups, anonymous of course. He'd found chat rooms online that really helped him cope, especially with going back to the scene everyday.
It was brutal, and it ate away at Buck sometimes that he had to do it all alone. He had to remind himself that they didn't know anything because he didn't tell them. It was his decision to go at this alone, and sometimes he hated himself for it. He hated that he couldn't reach out and ask for the help he so desperately craved.
Buck just didn't want them to look at him differently.
Like they had been for the past week.
Buck knew he hadn't been up to his past standards. His excitement for the New Year was swamped by disgust, fear, agony, and memories that ate away at his psyche and made him sick to his stomach.
There was no way he could work the holiday this year, and no way he could fake good cheer. So, he allowed his mood to settle into something less than enthusiastic and made peace with the fact that the last week of the year had been thoroughly ruined for him.
Again, though, no one asked. They saw his struggle and knew that they were missing something. Hen saw the pained, glassy look in eyes that should be happy and bright with excitement and cheer, and couldn't bring herself to ask why. Chim saw the weight on shoulders that usually bore it so well slowly sink further as the days passed, but didn't know how to ask the question that was burning at the tip of his tongue. Bobby saw the helpful and always exuberant young man become reserved and quiet as January drew nearer, and held back the gentle and reassuring words when Buck went out of his way to avoid any meaningful conversations with him.
They were all hurting to see their youngest struggling, but Eddie felt like he'd been punched in the gut when Buck unequivocally refused to work New Year's. Eddie had picked up the shift, knowing it had been one of Buck's favorites for years, in hopes of getting some insight into what was happening with the man he wanted nothing more than to hold onto and never let go. But this wall between them was seemingly insurmountable, and Buck was firmly on the other side.
They were shocked when, two days before January first, Buck told them that he'd taken time off and he wished them all a happy New Year, before disappearing down the loft steps.
"What the hell?" Hen asked, asking the one question on everybody's mind.
They all turned to Eddie when no answer was immediately forthcoming and he threw up his hands in frustration, "I don't know, either, guys. I really don't. He won't talk to me about this. He avoids and throws up walls that I don't know how to get around. He's never this cagey about anything. I don't know what to do," he said, dropping to the couch with his head in his hands and sighing heavily.
"Someone needs to talk to him," Bobby said, sitting next to Eddie and offering the younger man a quirk of his lips. "And honestly, Eddie, you're the only one that has any chance. So I don't know what to do to make it happen, but you need to get him to open up to you. We can't let him go on like this."
"I know," Eddie said, his voice muffled by his hands. He sat for a moment before scrubbing his hands through his hair and letting out a huff of air before turning to his Captain. "I need New Year's off."
Cap nodded. "Done. Just get our boy back, Diaz."
That was easier said than done.
It was easy enough to get his abuela to take Chris for dinner and a sleepover on New Year's Eve. His son chattered endlessly about New Year's Eve traditions, asking questions Eddie had no answers to but knew Buck would have, and asking repeatedly when he was going to see his Buck again. It was almost a relief to be out from under the eyes of his eight year old when he left his abuela's house with the promise he'd bring Buck by soon.
Step one done, Eddie quickly went back to his house and threw all his celebratory decorations into Chris' room. If the new year really was messing with Buck so badly, he didn't want anything around that would trigger him, or get him to lock up even more.
That done, Eddie looked at the clock and realized that it was after eight pm. He slid his keys from the table and headed for the door, his eyes doing one last sweep of the house for any offending decorations. Finding none, he slid out the door, locked it, and started making his way to Buck's loft.
When he got there, Eddie didn't even bother to knock. Knowing Buck usually kept the door unlocked, Eddie was surprised to find it held fast. Ok. Another weird thing, Eddie sighed, adding it to the list of Buck's recent behavior.
He slid into Buck's place moments later, relocking the door behind him as he went. He shucked his shoes and jacket just inside the door, throwing his things on top of Buck's and feeling a moment's warmth at the sight. It was something he'd longed for, for a long time, a mixture of their things. But that was a thought for another time.
Right now, he was on a mission.
He peeked around downstairs, and seeing no signs of his wayward partner, Eddie bounded effortlessly up the stairs, expecting Buck to be in the shower or lounging in the bed.
What he found stopped him dead in his tracks.
Buck was mashed in the farthest corner of his loft, his back shaking as silent sobs worked their way through his body, his face hidden by his knees, and his arms up and around his head as if to protect himself.
Eddie felt tears fill his own eyes at the sight and couldn't help the stutter step at the top of the stairs. This was an agony so profound that Eddie didn't know what to do for a second.
But as the next sob shook the blonde, Eddie found himself moving without thought.
"Oh, mi coriño, come here, please, come here," he murmured, sliding onto the bed and bringing his arms around the shivering mass of Buck and holding him close in the space of a single breath. Buck didn't unball from his clenched position, but Eddie took it as a win when he didn't fight the contact.
Hours could have passed and Eddie would have had no idea, he just tucked his face into Buck, surrounding the still quaking man with as much of his own body as he could. Buck deserved to be safe, to feel loved, and Eddie had enough love for the man in his arms to wrap around the Earth a hundred times.
And Eddie had all the time in the world.
Sweet nothings spilled from his lips, quiet reassurances that he wasn't going anywhere, that he had Buck, that everything was ok and Eddie was there. It wasn't enough, it was hardly enough, but Eddie couldn't stop it. He breathed a sigh of relief when Buck's arms finally unwound from his head and the blonde finally leaned into Eddie willingly, latching long, strong arms around the latin's middle and burrowing his face into the other man's stomach.
Eddie didn't fight the change, simply settled further against the wall and carded a hand through the blonde hair, feeling the tense muscles around him relax with every sweep.
Fireworks sounded outside, their loud booms enough to shake Eddie out of his quiet reverie and have the man in his arms flinching violently.
Perplexed, Eddie strengthened his hold, "Hey, hey, Buck. It's ok, it's just fireworks. Nothing to be afraid of."
The breathless whimper that he got in response was enough to get Eddie's heart rate quickening again and he adjusted Buck's clinging limbs until he had his own arms under Buck's, draggin the man's nearly boneless body closer to his own until they were chest to chest. Buck burrowed his face into Eddie's neck and the latter felt the hitched breathing, felt the trembling of his entire form as even more explosions sounded outside.
"Please," Buck whispered, "please, please, please."
It was the first thing the other man had said, but instead of relief, Eddie felt nothing but sorrow.
"What is going on, mi coriño," he murmured into the blonde head, pressing a soft kiss on Buck's temple and allowing his warm lips to settle there for a moment.
He didn't expect an answer to his question, but he felt Buck tense and expel a shaky breath before finally pulling away from him.
The blonde's face was splotchy and red from crying, but Eddie didn't think he'd ever seen anything as beautiful as the vision before him. This was Buck with all his walls torn apart, and he was staring back at Eddie with nothing but open vulnerability. All Eddie wanted to do was wrap him in his arms and never let go, but he needed answers, and he knew that Buck needed to give them.
"Buck," he said, his voice low and sincere as he captured one of the other man's larger ones. He linked their fingers and drew those precious blue eyes to his own before he continued. "Please tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours."
A hitched breath and Buck deflated against the wall, leaning his heavy head on the solid structure, but never once removing his eyes from Eddies, nor his hand away from the other man's. It was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Even the sounds outside their little bubble of reality weren't making a dent. It was nearing that fateful time, and Buck didn't even notice. Not when Eddie was looking at him with such love and confusion.
Not when Eddie had held him so fiercely.
And finally, finally, Buck relaxed. He felt every tense muscle in his body melt, and exhaled shakily.
"I don't - I don't know," he began, trailing off as tears filled his eyes and his lip quivered. He didn't know how to start, what to say.
"Hey," Eddie said softly, edging closer and bringing his free hand up to cup the stubbled cheek in one warm, calloused palm. "It's okay," he said, staring into those blue eyes he loved so much, even if they were shiny with pain and tears that he didn't know the cause of. "It's okay," he soothed again, brushing an errant tear with a quick swipe of his thumb. He didn't move his hand as Buck let his head fall into it, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.
It was a good thing too, because he missed the absolutely devastated look that passed over Eddie's face as he saw the utter trust in Buck's actions.
God, he loved this man.
"Tell me in your own time, coriño," he murmured, brushing his thumb across the reddened cheek once more as Buck reopened his eyes and focused back on Eddie.
The taller man took a shuddering breath. "Will you stay?" he asked plaintively, taking back the weight of his head so he could look clearly at the man on his bed.
"I'm not going anywhere, Evan," Eddie said, not hesitating for a second, using his partner's real name for added weight.
It seemed to do what Eddie intended and some of the fear lingering in Buck's gaze faded.
The pair sat for a few moments before Buck gathered himself, shuffling slightly to lean his back rather than his side against the wall, and Eddie did the same. Neither let go of their linked hands, and Buck sank against Eddie's shoulder once they settled.
When Buck began to talk, he didn't look at the man to his side, but he squeezed the hand in his a little tighter, breathing easier when the hand squeezed back.
"Do you remember the floater we had last year around this time?" Buck asked, not daring to look up at Eddie, but fiddling with the hem of his shirt with his free hand.
Eddie didn't have to think twice, "Yeah, Jason something, big dude, really pale, weird eyes." He thought for a moment before adding lowly, "Had a weird obsession with you. Wouldn't stop watching you."
Buck nodded slowly, clenching his jaws at the description. "Yeah," he breathed, swallowing harshly. "He uh, he has a tattoo on his side," he continued, brushing shaking fingers along his own side where he'd seen the ink.
Eddie's brow furrowed, not liking the direction this seemed to be taking, but grinding his jaw shut to keep his questions from spewing out. Buck needed to get this out in his own time.
"I saw it when he was taking his turnout gear off after a call. There was just something off about him from the start, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Something was wrong, Eds," Buck asserted, his eyes finally swinging to Eddie's, the desperation in them nearly making Eddie gag.
"I believe you," Eddie said honestly, nodding to add assurance to his own statement.
Buck didn't look away when he started again, his voice barely audible even to Eddie, less than a foot away. "It was a swastika."
Eddie sucked in a startled breath and couldn't hide the disgust.
But Buck didn't stop. "I'd heard him making comments on our last call about the couple, they were biracial, but I didn't put much stock in it. Tempers run hot sometimes, and sometimes things slip out. It happens. We're under a lot of stress. But, he saw me see it, Eddie, and there was something dangerous in the way he looked at me. I decided to keep my mouth shut until I could talk to Bobby, or you, but I wasn't on shift with anyone I knew well enough to talk to. So I figured I'd just lay low, wait until shift was over, and talk to Bobby later that week."
Buck closed his eyes and dropped his head, shaking it slightly, "I should have told someone, but he was watching me. And it felt so wrong, I tried to stay with the rest of the guys in the loft, tried to not let it get to me. But then the ball was dropping, and there was so much noise, so many fireworks outside, and then he was there."
Eddie unconsciously tightened his grip, leaning harder against Buck's shoulder, eyes wide as he waited for each word from Buck's mouth.
"He came up behind me and shoved something sharp against my back. He told me to go to the showers and not to do anything stupid. I did what he wanted, and went down the stairs. No one was paying attention to us, everyone was celebrating and drinking that bubble cider stuff, and we went downstairs during the confusion."
Remembered fear choked Buck and he looked desperately over at his partner, looking for reassurance, looking for safety. Those were things Eddie could give him without hesitation, and he did so immediately. "I'm here, Buck, and I promise you I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me."
Buck let a few tears fall as he held Eddie's gaze, drawing strength from the certainty and compassion in his chocolate orbs. "I knew if he got me past the door, I'd stand no chance, so I made my move in the hallway. I landed a solid punch to his face, but he landed a worse one." His twitchy fingers folded into the soft material of his shirt right over the scar, phantom pain making his body shudder involuntarily.
Eddie's brows drew together in momentary confusion until Buck elaborated, "I didn't know he'd stabbed me until he pulled the blade out, and it was like all my strength just faded. I folded completely, like my body wasn't even my own. I recognize shock, now, looking back, but at the time I didn't know what was happening. Then he grabbed me and dragged me into the bathroom. I begged him, Eddie, I begged for him to stop, but he threw me against the shower stall and stripped me naked. At some point he turned the shower on and bashed my head against the wall.
"Things don't make a lot of sense after that. I remember his weight on me as he straddled my back. I remember him pulling my head back until he was right next to my face. He threatened me, told me never to tell anyone what happened or what I'd seen or he'd come back for me. And he'd do something worse to me," Buck spat out, feeling the hot breath on his cheek as he said the words, bile threatening at the back of his throat. He fought it down, needing this to be done, needing this to finally be out.
"I don't know what happened for a while after that, but he was gone and the shower was still on, washing away what he'd done to me. So I cleaned up as much as I could, pulled my clothes back on, wiped away the blood. And I left. I just . . . I went home," Buck murmured, seeing that night again as he said the words. Home wasn't where he'd gone, he had gone back to the loft, but not to his home.
He could feel the vibrating tension in the hand he still held and didn't want to look at the face of the man he loved for fear of what he'd see there. He didn't want what had happened to him, what he'd let happen to him to be reflected in those chocolate eyes that he loved so much. He'd never wanted Eddie to know, but he'd been breaking apart at the seams until Eddie had shown up, and he'd known it was time. Time to let it finally be said, let it be heard by the one man on the planet that deserved to hear it.
"I'm so sorry, Eddie," Buck finally warbled, the tears making his voice thick and heavy.
The words hit Eddie like a water balloon, cold and shocking, and absolutely devastating.
"No, Evan, no," Eddie growled, grabbing Buck's chin with gentle fingers that belied the wrath that Eddie fought to hide. He was pissed as hell, but not at Buck, never at Buck.
"I hate that he did that to you, that he stole that security from you. I'm so sorry that he did that to you, but Buck - Evan - why didn't you tell me?" Eddie asked, the anger dissipating with each word until only naked agony remained. "Why?" he begged, dislodging a lone tear that tracked a trail of desperation down his disheveled cheek.
"Because he took from me everything you should have had," Buck sobbed, face crumpling as he keeled over and broke apart.
Eddie wasn't far behind, grabbing the younger man around the shoulders and manhandling him until Eddie could bury his face in Buck's shoulder as his partner did the same.
Their salty tears were shed for each other, but also for everything they'd survived. Eddie had never imagined, when he'd headed to Buck's that very evening, that Buck would reveal such horrors, but he'd never been more grateful.
Buck trusted him enough to hold him as he shook apart, to keep his pieces from shattering completely, and Eddie couldn't have felt more honored.
Even if a boiling, blistering rage simmered just beneath the surface at all the injustices that his love had needed to endure alone.
Not anymore.
"I have you, Evan. I've got you now, and I promise that now I have you I'm never letting go," Eddie promised, his tears slowing as he breathed in the sweet coconut scent of Buck's shampoo. The arms around him tightened to painful levels, but Eddie simply responded in kind. He would give any and everything for the man in his arms, and Buck didn't even know it.
"I love you," he said into the silence.
He knew the words couldn't fix anything, couldn't magically make everything okay again, but they felt right.
Buck pulled back with a wet gasp, his eyes seeking out the steady browns he'd always found truth in.
Right then, they held nothing but fact, and Buck felt a little piece of his heart settle back into place. A little piece of the hurt from the past year started hurting a little less.
"You-?"
"I. Love. You."
The words were firm.
Unhurried.
Certain.
Buck's eyes glistened with a different kind of wetness, but he shook his head in denial. Even in the face of Eddi's surety, Buck couldn't believe - not after everything. Love? "But I'm-"
"No."
The snarled word stopped Buck short.
"No," Eddie said again, softer this time. "No, Evan. I won't listen to you belittle yourself. You are one of the strongest people I know, especially after everything you just told me. After the bombing, the tsunami, the lawsuit, all the bullshit we put you through, and with that on top of it? It's a miracle you're still standing let alone functioning as well as you are. So no, I won't listen to you self-sabotage. I love you. That's all there is to it."
Buck didn't say anything for the longest time, just studied the man before him like he never had before. Always, Buck had sent his partner furtive looks, guessing at the real emotion that the latin man hid so perfectly. Now, though, Eddie didn't hide a thing. He responded to Buck's vulnerability the only way he knew how - with his own.
"I feel it, I do," Buck said, his voice low, but equally as sure. "But I don't know if I can say it back yet, Eds," he finished, his voice projecting his apology, his sincerity.
Eddie felt the first sincere smile he'd had in what felt like months curling his lips. He nodded. "I know you do. And it's ok. I promise you I'm not going anywhere, Evan. I'm here with you, and I'm in this with you."
"Thank you," Buck breathed, once more sinking into his partner's embrace. But this time, it wasn't fraught with tears and need, it was with relief and exhaustion that they came together.
The moment didn't last as long as they'd hoped, as an incredibly large explosion sounded outside and Buck jumped, his wide eyes flying to the windows in unconcealed panic.
Eddie rubbed a soothing hand over Buck's chest, his thoughts flashing to the blood and gore that must have covered his picturesque physique that fateful night a year ago. His eyes dropped to the side Buck had fingered during his recounting and felt a desperate urge to see the wound himself, to make sure that he'd healed-
"The blood thinners!" The thought struck him and nausea threatened to bring his dinner back up, but Buck shook his head frantically, pulled from his panic by Eddie's sudden distress.
"I was off them already. I'm fine, Eddie, I promise," Buck assured, going so far as to pull up the side of his shirt to show the other man the small scar on his side. "I patched myself up as well as I could when I got home. From the bombing, I have more first aid supplies than I know what to do with, but I didn't get an infection or have any problems, and it healed alright, and so did everything else."
Buck trailed off at the end, the other injuries testament to the trauma that he'd endured, but Eddie didn't call attention to it. That was a discussion for another time, when they were on steadier ground and Buck didn't look like he was on the edge of exhaustion and anxiety.
Eddie pressed gentle fingers to the scar on Buck's side. It was deceptively small, but Eddie knew the damage that could have caused. If the knife had hit anything vital, Buck would have bled out in minutes and no one would have been the wiser.
The rage he'd so far been successful in suppressing was slowly starting to overcome him, and as if Buck could somehow sense it, he released the hem of his shirt and leaned towards Eddie until the older man met his eyes.
The torment that shone there nearly made Buck weep, but he shook his head softly and said, "It's okay, Eds."
"No, Buck, it's not. He hurt you and he's still out there living a normal fucking life like he didn't almost take you away from me!" Eddie exclaimed, drawing back from Buck and letting out an exaggerated breath, trying to calm himself down. After a moment, he looked back up and saw the small smile on the other man's face. "What the hell are you smiling for?" he asked, indignant.
"Thank you for caring so much," Buck replied softly, his eyes gooey and wet as he met Eddie's. "I just, I've kept this from you for so long because I didn't want you to see me as damaged goods, as someone no longer worthy of love, and you just want to go beat his ass, don't you?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely I do. He hurt you, Evan," Eddie said, conviction dripping from every word as he stared at his partner. "I want to shred him to pieces and make him pay for every second of agony he made you suffer. He doesn't deserve to walk the same Earth as you, to breathe the same air."
And Buck did something Eddie never would have expected.
He laughed.
It was a rich, deep laugh that came from the very core of his being, even if it was tapered by bone-deep exhaustion, both physical and emotional.
When he finally settled down and looked Eddie in the eyes, his were full of satisfaction as he said, "You don't have to worry about him. He left LA eleven months ago and hasn't been seen since."
Eddie played that over in his head a few times, his confusion growing. "What do you mean he hasn't been seen since?"
"Well, remember when I told you I was a bartender in Peru?"
"Yes?"
"It's not exactly hard to make friends there, and when I say friends, I don't mean of the legal kind. I made a few phone calls, called in a few favors, and it turns out that one Mr. Jason McDurmot won a free trip to Peru, which he gladly took. Upon arrival however, everything he owned was stolen, and he was beaten rather badly. As there was no paper trail of his arrival in the country, he has no legitimate reason for being there, and he has no proof that he's an American citizen, let's just say that we won't be seeing or hearing from him for a very long time," Buck elaborated, a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down Eddie's spine.
"Good," he declared. "He deserves that and more, Evan, for what he did."
Buck shrugged and looked away, and Eddie knew that was a fight for another time. Right now, he just wanted to comfort the man he'd declared was his.
"Do you want to stay here or do you want to come to mine? I took down all the decorations and Chris is with my abuela, so we'd have the place to ourselves. If not, I have a bag in the truck, and we can stay here until you're comfortable leaving. But I'm not leaving you alone, not today, not tomorrow, not ever, so don't ask," Eddie said, cocking his head to the side in question.
Buck wasn't surprised, and he was honestly relieved. "Your house," he immediately said, leaning forward to press his forehead against Eddie's for a moment, breathing in the other man's steady presence before slowly pulling away. As he did, he met the intense brown eyes he'd loved for so long and offered him a small smile. "Can we go now?" he asked, suddenly feeling suffocated by the apartment he'd suffered alone in for so long.
"Absolutely. Whatever you want, whatever you need, mi coriño," Eddie reassured, not moving away until Buck did. Once the young man moved to the side of the bed and swung his legs down to the floor, he leaned forward for a moment and let his head fall into his hands. Eddie slid to his side and wound an arm around the broad shoulders. He pressed his nose against Buck's shoulder blade and leaned there for a moment, knowing he not only needed the contact, but Buck did too, if the counterpressure was anything to go by.
Eddie was the first to pull away this time, maneuvering completely off the bed and kneeling before Buck. He caught the exhausted gaze with his own and offered Buck a hand. "Come on, Evan."
There was a small hesitation in Buck as he dropped the hands from his forehead and balanced his elbows on his knees. "Will the fireworks be over?" he asked tentatively, eyes flickering from the offered hand, then to the window before resting on Eddie again in sheepish trepidation.
Eddie cast a glance at the watch on his wrist and nodded. "It's well past three, so I think we're ok."
Bucks eyes widened and he whirled to look at the clock by his bed, the glaring red numbers confirming Eddie's declaration.
"Damn," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Eds, I didn't mean . . ."
"Nope, no apologies. You took the time you needed. There's no apologizing for that. And I promise you, there's nowhere on Earth I'd have rather been than right here with you," Eddie said forcefully, holding Buck's gaze to make sure the younger man could see the truth in his eyes when he spoke.
This time, it didn't take as long to convince Buck, but Eddie had a feeling it had more to do with Buck's exhaustion than anything else.
"Let's go, Ev," Eddie said, standing and offering his hand again. This time, Buck took it.
Hand in hand, they descended the stairs. Buck didn't grab anything from his loft. He simply slid his feet into a pair of slippers at the bottom of the stairs and shrugged into a warm jacket before looking to Eddie for direction. His brain was so muddled with fatigue that he was handing over the reins completely to the man he trusted most, knowing he'd never let him fall.
"I've got you," Eddie murmured, letting them out of the loft, locking it, and guiding them quickly to his truck.
They were on the road moments later, hands intertwined over the console.
Neither of them could keep the smiles off their faces, and if Evan fell asleep two minutes into the drive, neither man was complaining.
They were safe, they were whole, and they were finally together.
This new year was actually starting off right, Buck thought as sleep claimed him. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't fear what he'd see when he closed his eyes. He had a protector in the form of one Edmundo Diaz that would fight away even the fiercest of nightmares.