(Hen)

He made a mistake. More than one.

Water dripped from the remains of the nearby building. The call came in close to shift change, and they'd barely had time to say hello to each other as they ditched their personal belongings and geared up. The fire was one of the worst they'd seen all week, maybe more, started by a carelessly discarded cigarette from what they were told. Took out most of the office space. Hen suspected the office building to be a goner, the bottom floor damaged severely and judging from the appearance , the next four up weren't any better. At least everyone made it out alive. Barely. Still a win in my books. As the crew worked to cleanup the scene her gaze shifted from the building to Cap, who stood near the firetruck watching them.

One bad call.

Just yesterday she'd sat down with Chimney, her ride or die bestie, and they spoke at length about Cap. Both of them had been given the reins under his guidance, and now they worried about his ability to focus on the job, to keep them safe. Buck in the hospital is one thing. Buck missing, and for as long as he has? Entirely different. He's having trouble keeping his head in the game. Obviously, she didn't blame him or begrudge his grief—and the guilt according to Athena—but lives were on the line, hers included. He needed to have his head in the game, to be able to make the moves required to keep them safe. And he nearly botched it this call.

He could have killed Chimney.

Hen knew what she had to do, trying to figure out the best way to broach the necessary conversation. For a moment she considered speaking to Athena, letting her confront Cap and perhaps convincing him to take a temporary leave of absence until Buck turned up. If he does. Her stomach knotted at the thought. It was a horrible thing to let cross her mind, yet it popped up more and more within the last day or two. She saw how they were all scarcely holding it together, walking around on eggshells. The lack of Buck was the elephant in the room. They likely all wanted to talk about it, share their thoughts, and yet, refrained from doing so, afraid to upset apple cart as they saying went.

Truth be told, Hen wondered what the odds were in finding Buck alive a little over a week after losing him. As far as she knew, Athena was no closer to an answer. What if he's one of those unfortunate souls that remains a missing person? Will the shadow of his presence always linger over us? Will it be Cap's undoing? Reaching back into the recesses of her mind, Hen brought forth the memories of how closed off Cap had been when he first arrived to take over. How it was Buck who broke down his defenses and reminded him what it meant to be human again. To lose him forever, and at the hands of a man from his past, it would leave Cap destroyed, and as much faith as she had in Athena, Hen figured there'd be no saving him.

Am I bound to lose both of them? And when Bobby goes, what becomes of Athena? How far will the dominoes fall?

Bobby stepped around behind the firetruck and Hen saw her opportunity. She made a beeline for him, thinking about what Karen told her, the knot in her stomach tightening.

"Hey Cap, can we talk a second?"

His head snapped around, and she saw the anguish in his eyes. "What's on your mind?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "If it's about Chimney-"

"That's a talk for another time. This… There's no easy way to say this," Hen said, deciding to just get it out. "Karen told me about your…bar trip."

"Oh."

"Bobby, have you told Athena?" She answered for him. "Of course not. You have to. Your mind isn't focused on us here and since you brought it up, yeah, your call could have cost Chimney his life. We have to be able to rely on each other. We all miss Buck. We're all worried about him. But we owe each other to be in the here and now when on calls, and if going down that road is what you want…" She choked up, a swell of misery hitting her like a brick. Tears welled in her eyes. "I was there, Bobby, remember, when Buck found you in a drunken sleep? When you finally let someone in? I don't want to find you like that again. For Athena to find you that way."

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't."

"Hen-"

She placed a hand on his arm. "Buck isn't here, but we are, you are, and we need you here."

Much to her surprise Bobby stepped away, glaring. "I'm fine, but thanks for your concern."

"Cap. Bobby-"

"I said I'm fine."

"Everything okay here?" Chimney asked, approaching them.

Bobby looked ready to snap, somehow cooling his tone. "Yeah." His eyes never left Hen's. "Are we done here?"

Is he directing that at me or Chim? She bit back her words, afraid to drag Chimney into the conversation, unwilling to out Cap. For now. I'll give him a day or two, let him come to his senses, then tell Athena myself. "Yeah," she echoed his answer.

"Good."

She watched Bobby storm off, plopping his helmet atop his head.

"Why do I get the feeling it's everything but okay?"

"Has anything been okay?"

(Bobby)

Locked away alone in his office, Bobby sat behind his desk, head in his hands. Words and images rattled around in his skull, a jumbled mess of the last week or so. From picking up Buck the night he kissed Eddie to the recent fire and the near fatal mistake he made. How was he supposed to know how wickedly wrong everything would go because of one stupid mistake? And just which mistake am I referring to? Getting totally wasted and setting an entire apartment building on fire is a real kicker, a great place to start. Maybe Karma has finally come to balance the scales. He saw himself waking up, failing to save his family as he raced down the heated hallway, flames licking at the tinder box they all called home. How it tore him apart when he saw the number of lives lost because of him. I fled to California thinking I deserved a new life, a second chance, and look how spectacularly I've fucked it up. Everywhere I go…

He heard Athena's voice, the loving things she said; did he have any right to hear them? The concern from Hen, the way she looked at him earlier, had he spotted fear in her eyes? And Buck, the younger man haunted him, made his heart ache in a way he wished he'd never experience again. Yet it keeps happening. My kids are dead because of me. May nearly died in a fire because of me. Harry was kidnapped by a nut job, who also tried to kill Athena. And now Buck. Everywhere I go, everyone I get close to… I'm the common denominator. I'm the source of bad luck.

Bobby's phone buzzed, the screen flashing on. For a moment his heart stopped, his mouth went dry. Every since Buck's disappearance he prayed for a text, a simple little message that wound up meaning so much to him. A simple gesture with a lot to say. But it was never Buck, and this time around the message came from May. Checking up on him.

His gaze darted to the door.

Closed.

The others existed beyond.

In here, it was just him and the demons.

Bobby yanked open the bottom drawer of his desk, and from underneath a few unassuming files he yanked out a bottle of whiskey. He'd bought it the night he ran across Karen while on his way home to his wife. He twisted off the cap and poured a generous amount in a glass. He swirled it, eyed it, and brought the glass to his lips.

Do it, whispered the demon, down the hatch in one swift gulp. You know you want to. Remember how it burned and chased away all your cares? Remember how it took away the pain and made everything in the world seem okay, manageable? Do it.

Bobby set down the glass, shoving his chair back, and walking away. Hand on his hip, the other rubbing his lips, he paced. The demon fed him memories. The disappointment in his first wife's eyes when she realized he was a drunken fool. Their names on the obituary page in the newspaper. Buck coughing up blood. Eddie being shot. Chimney shot. Buck stuck under the fire truck. Chimney with rebar in his skull. Athena battered, bruised. Buck struck by lightning.

It's my fault.

All my fault.

I'm to blame.

Me.

All on me.

He put his hands to head. "Shut up," he growled. "Shut up."

From some far off distant place there came a knock. Someone saying his name. Bobby grabbed the tumbler of whiskey and whipped it at the wall, the glass shattering, shards raining down. "Shut up!"

"Cap?"

Bobby crumbled to the floor, back against his desk, knees drawn up, head hanging. The dam broke, days, maybe even years, worth of heartache and sorrow flowed freely, leaving streaks on his cheeks. Sobs wracked his body. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness he heard the door click shut and someone cross the room. Moments later Eddie sat beside him, drawing him into an embrace.

"It's okay," he said. "I've got you."