#married buddie one day angst another the duality of man

[capseycartwright]

“You give me a reason to be better, to do better.”

It’s not as though getting hurt on the job was completely unusual. They were firefighters, after all – they all had their fair share of scrapes, and bruises, and burn-marks. It was a hazard of the job, Eddie had realised early on – because no matter how careful you were, sometimes a glove slipped, in the midst of a hectic fire scene, or you’d scrape your arm, doing a rescue, because you’d made the mistake of wearing your short-sleeve uniform, that day. Shit happened – it came with the job.

This felt different. Buck getting hurt off shift – it felt different. Eddie had control, when they were working – maybe he didn’t have full control, of everything that was happening, but he had a certain amount of control, and he had equipment. Eddie always felt confident, even in the most precarious of moments, because he knew he was a damn good firefighter, and so was Buck, and they were able to protect each other.

Eddie couldn’t exactly protect his partner from getting rear-ended by a drunk driver.

It had been one of the worst moments of Eddie’s life, he decided. He’d been on the phone with Buck – Buck’s phone in its holder, the call hands-free, of course – when it had happened, and he’d heard Buck swear at the driver behind him, who was apparently driving up his ass, and Eddie had heard the sickening screech of tires, and Buck’s yelling, and then, silence.

(“Buck, baby?” Eddie’s voice trembled, as he called out, met with overwhelming silence. “Buck, are you okay?”

There were a few things, Eddie was grateful for in that moment – location sharing, and the fact he still had a landline, even though Buck teased him for it. He scrambled, to try and find Buck’s location, keeping the call open in case Buck replied.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s uh – Firefighter Diaz, 118,” Eddie said, all in one breath. “My boyfriend – he was driving, and he got hit, I think, and he’s not speaking,” he was losing it, Eddie was losing it. “He’s not saying anything.”

“Firefighter Diaz, do you have your boyfriend’s location?”

And okay, okay, Eddie could do that – he could tell her where Buck was, and he could get Buck help.)

He’d stayed on the phone until he’d heard sirens, approaching, and he’d called out, when he’d heard the muffled conversation of other firefighters, and Stella from the 133 had told Eddie they’d be taking him to Presbyterian.

Eddie had gotten there before the ambulance, and he’d chewed on his fingers as the 133 had unloaded Buck, his stomach churning as he realised Buck was bloodied, and bruised, his boyfriend in a sorry state as they’d rolled him into the ER.

Head injury. That’s what they’d finally admitted to Eddie after he’d yelled at a nurse (he made a mental note to apologise to her.) Eddie might not have been Buck’s husband, but he was his medical proxy, he’d pointed out, and so he had the right to know.

This thing between them was so new, and so fragile – and Eddie could blame himself for a lot of that, because having a sexuality crisis in your thirties was a really time-consuming thing – but they hadn’t been ready before, neither of them had been ready before now, but they’d finally figured it all out, and they were together, and now – now it might be over before Eddie had the chance to enjoy the greatest relationship of his life.

All because someone had gotten drunk and gotten behind the wheel of their car.

(“He’s been arrested,” Athena had reassured, and Eddie had seen red. If the driver had been arrested, he was well enough to leave hospital, and be brought down to the closest station – all while the love of Eddie’s life was in emergency brain surgery.

“You’re telling me he damn near killed Buck, and he’s walked away without a scratch?” Eddie had practically snarled, his anger feeling uncontrollable. The expression on Athena’s face had told him everything he needed to know – the guy had gotten drunk, and nearly killed Buck, and he was going to be just fine.)

Maybe Eddie shouldn’t have yelled, again – and maybe he shouldn’t have told Bobby, and Hen, not to touch him, not to come near him. He had a growing list of apologies he was going to have to make, but he couldn’t think clearly.

Not when Evan was lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and the doctors weren’t sure when he might wake up.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie pleaded, holding Buck’s hand to his cheek, willing the other man to wake up, to do what he usually did, and scratch his fingers lightly against Eddie’s cheek, smiling softly at Eddie in that new way he did, loving and open, no secrets left between them that either of them were trying to hide. “You’ve got to wake up.”

Eddie blinked back tears, pressing a kiss to the palm of Buck’s hand. He felt cold, Eddie realised – he’d have to ask for another blanket. “You – you give me a reason to be better, to do better,” he managed to hiccup out, sobs clawing at his throat. If he started crying, now, he might not ever stop, Eddie realised. “So please, Evan – wake up for me. I – I promise I’ll take good care of you, while you recover,” he tried to not let himself think about what the doctors had said – a long road ahead of him, and a need for PT, because they weren’t sure if Buck might have lost his ability to do certain things. The damage would be on his right side, they had explained, and Buck was right-handed. “I’ll learn to cook, properly, this time. I’ll even take lessons. And you know I’m good at laundry – I’ll do it all, Buck, I swear. Just – just wake up for me. Please.”

Eddie gripped tightly to Buck’s hand, as though he could will the younger man awake. “I can’t do this without you, Buck.”

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie #911fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #married buddie one day angst another the duality of man #prompt fill