You Were Made From Scars
Summary: Buddie fic. Established relationship. Tragedy strikes the 118, and they are forced to bury one of their own. Eddie struggles to deal with the grief but fate brings him across the path of someone, suffering memory loss, who looks a little too much like Buck. Can his heart take the possibility of losing Buck twice?
Disclaimer: I do not own 9-1-1 or anything associated with the show.
Author Notes: I was asked to write a fic where I killed Eddie or Buck. This is as close as I could come.
The chapter where everything changes...
Set after season 6.
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Chapter 3
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There was no such thing as normal anymore. Eddie didn't think there ever would be. But each day, he got up and he got ready and focused on what he had. He had Christopher, and the 118. He had family, one that was there for him every step of the way. He had a job that meant he could make a difference. Sometimes it was only a small difference, and sometimes it was so much more.
He allowed himself to smile more often as the months passed, and allowed himself to cry too. Sometimes, he would spend hours at Buck's headstone in silence, and sometimes he would talk about everything that had happened. He would talk about how Chris was doing in school, and about Maddie and Chimney, letting him know that Jee-Yun still asked about her Uncle Buck, and about how Bobby still set a place for him at dinner in the firehouse.
Nine months. Nine long months.
"Christopher wants to come by this weekend," Eddie whispered into the quiet air of the cemetery, eyes locked on the name etched into the headstone. "He misses you."
His chest ached, gaze falling a moment.
"I miss you."
It hurt to say it out loud.
"He's er… he's been talking to this girl in his class," Eddie continued, swiping the back of his hand across his cheek to brush away a stray tear. He tried for a small chuckle, but it came out broken. "So much for no dating until he turns twenty-one. I guess I've got all that drama to look forward to. Just… do me a favour? Keep an eye on him, for me? I don't know how much you can do, or if you can even hear me but… he still needs you."
He couldn't bring himself to voice that he still needed Buck too, that he would always need Buck. To admit as much would be torturing himself. Frank had told him, time after time, that it was okay to open himself up, it was okay to feel vulnerable and broken, that there was no timeline for grief and no one expected him to bounce back, as if nothing had happened, as if his whole world hadn't been torn apart.
Still, there were some things he couldn't talk to Frank about, or anyone else for that matter. There were some things that he had only ever been able to open up to one person about.
"If you can't be honest with Frank, at least be honest with me."
Buck had always seen right through him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, the alarm sounding out. He had set it knowing he would lose track of time. The first time he came to the cemetery before work, he ended up with a phone call from Bobby asking if he was okay and where he was. He ended up a good forty-five minutes late that day.
Letting go of a sigh, he said his goodbyes and made his way towards his truck. It was just a regular day. A Tuesday of all days. Nothing about it was out of the ordinary, not the slow-moving traffic, or the chatter in the firehouse. Not the first call, or the second call. Not the third, or fourth, or fifth. And certainly, nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary about the last call either.
An apartment fire, late that evening.
It had started on the third floor and had spread quickly. Most of the residents had already evacuated by the time the 118 reached the building, coming in to support the fire crew already on scene, but there were a few stragglers. A child was stranded in an apartment on the fourth floor, and the stairwell leading up had collapsed. Judging from what Eddie was hearing from the crowd, some reckless civilian had gone in to try and save the kid, which meant they now not only had to rescue the kid, but they had to pull him out too.
"Diaz," Bobby commanded, "I want you on the roof supporting the 120. You know the drill, if you can't find a safe way down inside, we'll go from the outside."
"On it, Cap," Eddie answered, already moving off.
The other fire crew already had their ladder truck lined up and ready for access to the roof, so Eddie joined them, and they made their way into the building, spreading out to check the apartments on the upper floors. Eddie volunteered himself for fourth floor, thinking of the child and would-be do-gooder that was just looking to get themselves killed.
He could feel the heat from the floor below, the smoke rising up the stairwell as he pushed through, oxygen mask firmly in place. Already, the fire was progressing, and he knew they wouldn't have long before this floor was completely claimed too. He pushed onward, axe at the ready, and called out as he moved, pausing between shouts to listen for any signs of life.
He was almost at the end of the hall before he heard voices.
"Here! We're in here!"
Here being an apartment filled with smoke and quickly filling with flames. Eddie pushed forward, breaking through the broken doorframe, and found the owner of the voice leaning over what looked like a child. Eddie recognised the motions immediately, chest compressions, and he dropped to the ground beside the child, pulling his mask and helmet off so he had better access.
"How long has he been out?" Eddie asked, completely focused on the child.
"Minute, maybe two. Tops." The man moved back, giving Eddie space to work. "He collapsed before we could make it out, and I couldn't quite carry him."
Eddie shot a look to the side, catching sight of the man's leg and the rip down his jeans, smeared with blood from what was clearly an open wound. The idiot had gotten himself injured by trying to help. Eddie merely huffed out in response, returning his attention to the child, the tension building up along his shoulders until finally… finally, he took a breath.
It was a choking cough that sounded dirty from the smoke, but it was a breath.
"Let's get you both out of here," Eddie said, placing his helmet back on but putting his mask over the kid's mouth before sweeping him up into his arms. His gaze followed the path that would lead them out, though his words were directed at the man beside him. "Can you walk?"
"Er, yeah, I can manage it."
By the time they hit the stairwell, the fourth floor was almost completely engulfed, and Eddie carried the kid whilst a firefighter from the 120 helped the man. Anger rippled through him as he thought about what would have happened if he hadn't been able to get to them. Civilians putting themselves in danger like that made his job so much harder… and he refused to admit that he might not have found the child in time if it hadn't been for the man.
When his feet hit the street outside once more, and he passed the child off to the nearest medic, he took his helmet off a moment to take a deep breath.
"Is he going to be okay?" asked a voice from behind him, the man that had put himself in danger.
This time, Eddie couldn't keep a lid on his anger, and he swung round to pin the man covered in soot and dirt up against the fire engine, furious that someone could be so reckless, so stupid, so much like…
"Buck…"
For the first time, he could see the man's bright blue eyes beneath the mass of curls that were stuck to his head from sweat, beard thick across his jawline. In that moment, Eddie's world completely tilted, this man staring back at him with those eyes, those wide eyes that looked just like Buck's, and yet there wasn't an ounce of recognition on this man's face. A face that looked just like…
He pushed away, turning from the man to stalk back towards his own team.
It was all in his imagination. His mind was playing tricks on him and he couldn't let it. He couldn't let himself fall down that dark hole when he had spent so long trying to claw his way out of it. For himself and for Christopher.
"Wait… do you know me?"
"You should get a paramedic to check out your leg," Eddie answered, voice stiff and pace determined. He had to get away from this man.
"You called me Buck."
Eddie stayed silent, knowing he didn't trust himself to speak. It was impossible and to even allow himself one tiny ounce of hope when he had finally started to accept what his new life had become? It was beyond torture.
"Please," the man continued, and God, he even sounded like Buck.
Eddie made it another step before the sudden noise behind had him stopping and he spun to see the man had stumbled and was leaning against a car, seemingly struggling to breathe. Eddie was moving immediately, at the man's side and helping him as he called out to whoever was nearby.
"We need some help over here!"
I was a paramedic from the 120 that approached, and Eddie all but snatched the oxygen mask from them, sliding it into place. He held it there, watching those fluttering eyes, as the paramedic checked the rest of the man's vitals. His chest ached with want and hurt, fighting back the temptation to wipe away the smudges of soot on the man's face so he could see him more clearly.
There was too much dirt there to see the lack of a birthmark above the man's left eye, and if Eddie was honest, he didn't want to. If he couldn't see what wasn't there, it couldn't break his illusion. He could allow himself to believe, even if he knew it would only hurt in the long run.
"He's stable, but we should get him to the hospital," the paramedic said, and Eddie nodded numbly.
But it wasn't until they were lifting him onto the board and moving off with him, that Eddie darted forward and climbed into the ambulance with them. They didn't argue when he told them he was coming, and he watched in silence as they worked on the now unconscious man.
Once they were at the hospital, no one told him anything beyond the man's condition was likely due to prolonged smoke inhalation. He waited there all the same, pacing the floor of the waiting room as another hour passed by, only leaving to call Carla and ask if she could watch Chris for longer. When he returned, Bobby was there.
Eddie's shoulders sunk, taking in the sombre expression on Bobby's face. "I know what you're going to say, Cap."
"Eddie…" Bobby breathed out, taking a step closer.
"I know, Bobby. I was unprofessional… and I know that's not Buck. But he looked so much like him. You should have seen him, his eyes.."
"Eddie," Bobby tried again, reaching his hand out and placing it on Eddie's arm.
Eddie shook his head. "I know. Buck is dead. He's gone. And no matter how much I might want it, that random stranger is-"
"It's Buck," Bobby interrupted. "It's Buck, Eddie."
It felt like the room was spinning at that, a wave of lightheaded hitting him hard as he tried not to stumble. When he spoke, he had to force the word out, his own breath threatening to leave him.
"What?"
Eddie took an unsteady step backward and shook his head. It was impossible. That man, there was no way he could be Buck. Buck had died. They had buried him. But that wasn't the reason that that man, that stranger, couldn't be Buck. Because if that was truly Buck in there, he would have found his way back to them. He would have come home. Because Buck, Eddie's Buck, would never have left them.
"He had a card in his wallet for a Dr Trent. A memory specialist."
"What are you saying, Bobby?"
"It's Buck, Eddie, and physically, he's going to be fine… but…"
"But?" Eddie took a breath; scared, angry, hurt, all in one. "But what, Bobby?"
"He has no memory of who he is, or who we are."
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A/N: More to come...