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lamalefix · 3 years

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Can't have you disappear [2/3] (also on ao3)

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Characters: Eddie Diaz,Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz, Ana Flores

Tags: Medical Procedures, Blood, Major Character Injury, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s04e13 Suspicion

Buck can’t think for a while. His mind blank, hollow, void. But he moves out of habit, talks out of consciousness, like it’s just something that he has to do. He has to function the best as he can, answering what police officers are asking him, he just moves accordingly to what he needs to do. Exactly as if he was someone else, not covered in Eddie’s blood. He is alone in the hospital, and he must move, function, he can’t break down, not now. A police officer commandeers his clothes as investigation evidence, giving in exchange a plain shirt. He says thank you, and please, and continues to answer every single question they ask him.

He answers even when Bobby makes a call, he just does so as if muscle memory, the same that somehow helped cut some time for Eddie. He talks slowly, calmly to his Captain: none of them has to worry about him. They don’t have to worry about him, there’s Eddie somewhere in the operating room, undergoing surgery, a surgery that may not save him. So, he must function as best as he can.

When a very kind nurse wants to accompany him to the restroom he just says thank you, but shrugs and walks away.

When he is alone, he can practically break but just doesn’t. There’s no one there, the hospital doesn’t allow that much of visitors now that there’s a global pandemic, so he could break, but he can’t.

He can’t.

So he avoids looking in the mirror, he just starts to scrub his face, his hands, over and over and over. Patiently. Slowly. Then all at once, harder and harder. He tries his best to ignore that, no matter how hot the water is, how long and hard he rubs and brushes, over and over, over and over, there’s still blood on his hands. In the bed of his fingernails. Encrusted against his cuticles and his knuckles. Blood, Eddie’s blood. And most likely when all this will reach the end, that smell, of wet, bloodied asphalt, that taste of copper and salt won’t ever go away. It may be the matter of his nightmares forever. But he can’t break, not now. Not now that Eddie is like in a Schrödinger’s cat situation, that is neither alive, nor dead, but also both alive and dead. So he blinks, and just decides to be the old version of himself again, not to let the emotions bleed out. He needs to be that someone long forgotten, that shares so little with his current existence. He can’t break down, he can’t. Not now. Maybe never.

When he gets back into the waiting room, he thinks it’s right about time to go back home to Chris. Eddie would want that, even if that means fight his battle alone, now. He leaves his contacts to that kind nurse, he murmurs something, politely to her. He’d be right back, he needs to take care of his friend’s kid. And maybe she says something, she promises to call him as soon as something happens, but he is already taking off, his phone in hand to call an Uber.

Maybe other nightmares will be made of that Uber ride, how to find the right words to tell a kid that his daddy might not come home.

He tries to build a good talk, something empowering and beautiful, about how Eddie is strong, and caring, and will always find his way back to Chris. But the only things that come to his mind are technical and medical words, that sound orotund and big, but also scary like a gunshot. Medical words are something scary, something that carry ominous meanings. As terrifying as grandiloquent, they hold impartial, procedural meaning, but there’s also an implied, underlying meaning, something that hums under the surface of the mere words. Something that talks about death and pain, and smells like blood and detergent, that tic-tocks like the ancient murmur of time.

But the right words, if you have something so heavy to say, must be said with the right mind, with the right heart. It’s the heart that speaks.

And when he gets to Christopher, the kid, always so smart, already knows, just by looking at Buck’s body language that something is off.

Buck crouches in front of the kid and just speaks, softly. “Your dad isn’t coming home tonight”. Maybe forever, he leaves unsaid. And he is about to say something more, something reassuring, something that doesn’t sound frightening, but Chris clings to him, hugging and sobbing, and he loses all his words and the other gear clicks in again and he turns back to his usual self. And there’s that voice, the one he doesn’t want to hear chanting in his head I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. it repeats like a mantra, or some sort of enchantment or a prayer. Emotions bottling up, and kicking on the tap, ready to spill around like a fountain.

So he leans in and hugs Chris tighter, trying to comfort him and to seek comfort for himself.

But then Chris moves his tiny, beautiful head. “You should be with daddy” he says, voice thin and broken. “He needs you more than me”.

And Buck can see, like it’s the first time all over again, how is so easy to love this marvelous, resilient, strong kid.

“Go stay with him, make daddy happy” he murmurs, his voice muffled against Buck plain dark t-shirt. “I want to come… but… hospitals are scary now”.

And Buck nods, tugging Chris closer and closer. “I know, they are”.

“But Daddy is strong. He is going to be home soon, because I know you helped him” he steps back on his trembling knees and blinks a wet smile to Buck.

“I did my best” it’s all Buck can say.

“Dad knows” Chris nods, moving to caress Buck’s face with his tiny hand. “It’s going to be okay, kid”.

And Buck can’t really break now, so he launches forward to hug Chris goodbye and then steps out of the house, leaving him in Pepa’s capable hands.

She says something, it sounds like a recommendation, paternalistic and stentorian, but also like a prayer. And he just nods, maybe his lips don’t tremble that much when he promises her to do his best.

When he gets back to the hospital, there’s still no echo of voices in the waiting room, he moves like a phantom now, like the one thing he didn’t want to be. Not now. He is broken, and he doesn’t have to be like that. He doesn’t get to be broken. Not now. He can’t.

He doesn’t mind how long he stays there. At least the mask filters that classic antiseptic smell that clings on the linoleum. He moves his eyes every time the doors, jolting, a giddiness of pure terror, every single time he sees a doctor passing by.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the 118 to arrive, for Ana to get to the hospital, for Pepa to get Abuela there. They all start to talk all at once, and Bucks answers, ever polite, because Maddie would be upset if he isn’t polite. They offer him coffee, and he says no thanks. They ask about the situation, and he says the same as before. They ask how does he feel, and he asks he doesn’t have a sucking chest wound.

He just stays there for a while. Eyes open, focused on that tiny little crack in the blue paint of the waiting room, moving from time to time, to the door. Waiting. That’s what you do in waiting rooms.

And at some point, then, his eyes go lost, and his mind gets all blank, so that he doesn’t jolt when the surgeon comes in. But someone moves in the periphery of his field of vision, and he focuses. There’s this tiny woman that’s talking, medical terms, but something, something glimmers in her eyes.

He perceives a movement, in the periphery of his field of vision, he sees Ana and Abuela walk away with someone that looks like a surgeon, and he feels his limbs tremble. His heart throbbing in panic.

The voice, the one he didn’t want to hear, that chanted over and over in his head in Eddie’s house not so long ago, now murmurs something pretty different. All this time wasted, all this time gone. Something like an echo, like a memory, like he could really have hoped that Eddie has seen him the way he's seen Eddie. Something he doesn't even want to put into words. Maybe in another place, in another time, in another lifetime, they'd find each other and live a happy, lovely life together, but if Eddie survives all this, this isn't going to be their happy ending. He has Ana and Buck really can only be the harbinger of terrible memories for him. All this time wasted, all this time gone.

No need to panic. However it goes, he will still love him, but not the way he wants, not the way he doesn't even allow himself to wish. So then he sits back into the plastic chair in that hospital waiting room, blinking his eyes shut, and, well, he waits. He waits for the news to come, whatever it is. He waits for the gear to roll in backwards and shut him down yet once again, closing off and making him the empty vessel he needs to be.

Then Ana comes back in, and something shifts in that room.

Hospital waiting rooms can’t be that packed right now, with COVID-19, so it’s even more unbelievable and nightmarish at the same time. The stillness, the silence, in this moment of the night is kinda scary. And even if there’s people around now, people he knows, all fussing around Ana, now that she’s back in the room, he feels alone.

He just can’t hear what they are saying now, he just can’t fathom why Ana looks so upset, like on the verge of crying upset, and unbelievably relieved at the same time.

Maybe switching off your emotions lowers your empathy too. Well that should be how it works, really, easier. He maybe would live better with just bottling all this shit up. He can do this, bottle up, get his shit together, no reaction, no crying, nothing, no stupid emotions, his heart only trembled when they took Eddie in the ER, and then when he had to talk to Chris. But he can stay there, motionless, hollow, like the Navy SEALS he was so afraid to become. Switching off emotions is easier when something hits you hard. He doesn’t have to react, he can close off, just stop aching. He just doesn’t have the right to ache like that.

But then he hears them calling, Ana calling. He hears her talking. And he needs to focus, so his gear clicks in and he shifts his gaze. “He is asking for you”.

And maybe he moves even before he knows, muscle memory, all over again, and he is in the corridor to his room in a second.

Ana’s heels ticketing after him. “Buck?” he hears her voice calling him.

So he stops mid-step and looks at her.

She stands still, her fingers tap and straighten their grip on the shoulder strap of her bag. “Take care of them. Of Edmundo and Christopher” she says.

And Buck furrows his brows. “I’m just going in so he knows I’m all good, Ana” he replies, again out of consciousness, now his top priority is going to see Eddie now all awake and finally out of that Schrödinger’s box. “I know he would love to be taken care off by a beautiful lady”.

“I don’t make him happy, Buck. All he and Chris do, is talk about their adventures with you… and I don’t know if you know how you make their eyes sparkle bright when they talk about it, about you… you make them happy” Ana explains, and he can see a beautiful smile on her lips, even if it’s covered by a mask, that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Take care of them”.

“That’s not true, Ana… trust me” he tries to say.

“I was only the best, easier, choice he thought I would be. I overheard his conversation with Carla, I didn’t… you know, wanted to change a thing but…” she assures, and it doesn’t get an expert to know that she is feigning this: her voice is plain, and calm, but thin and croaked at the edges. “Go make him happy”.

“I don’t think that’s what he wants, Ana” Buck murmurs. And it’s true, he doesn’t think Eddie wants anything more than friendship from him. They do have a beautiful friendship, in hindsight. The best thing Buck could ever think, but he hasn’t ever really thought about making a move past that point. There’s a thin line he doesn’t want to surpass, that line that might or might not, make their friendship a bit over the PG-rated things. But… well. It’s not that he didn’t think about it. He just wouldn’t have asked for more. That’s not what he does. He has already more than what he bargained for.

But Ana continues, tilting her head, eyes softening a bit. “He asked for you Buck, for you and Chris and I think he was pretty upset when you weren’t there with him, trust me.” she replies, moving forward and giving him a soft pat on his shoulder.

“I─I─I don’t know what to say?” Buck babbles.

Ana shakes her shoulders. “Just go”.

And he doesn’t need to have it repeated again, he starts again in the corridor and finds abuela talking to the surgeon. And she smiles under the facemask, and says something to him, something that he nods politely in response.

When he opens the door to that room, that recovery room, he is taken aback by what he finds there. Even if he knows what he would find there. But there’s no room for that old version of himself now, that one trained to switch down emotions, and every single feeling, good or bad, or whatever you may call them, washing over him like a storm.

The recovery room is an area near the operating room, with all the monitoring equipment and specially trained staff. And he knows what he sees. All the equipment. There’s an intravenous drip, inserted in the back of his hand, that gives him fluids, a surgical drain, that lets all the fluids into a small bottle. And the heart monitor is doing its beep beep sound, at every breath of… Eddie. That’s what he didn’t want to see and yet the first thing he wanted to see.

Eddie is pale, not as pale as he was on the way to the hospital, or while Buck tried to save his life, or while he was bleeding out on the ground. But pale. He has horrible, dark, or more purplish circles under his eyes. The ventilator sticking in his nose and mouth open. There’s still the shadow of his own blood on his own cheek but that will eventually be wiped off very soon.

And Buck moves, and doesn’t look where he is going so he literally walks in the plastic chair that falls over with a loud thud. And Eddie whines a soft, raspy groan.

“-ck?” it’s what comes from Eddie’s mouth.

And Buck swears under his breath. “Shit, oh shit... Sorry, didn’t really want to wake you” he says fast and breathless, his heart clenching in his chest.

“Buck?” Eddie repeats, and it’s a relieved sound, like a sigh, like something long awaited finally got to happen.

And so he moves, he first steps closer to the bed about to sit there, but he really just kicked the chair out, and so he needs to pick it up before moving closer to Eddie. “I’m here, I’m here, Eddie” he says, putting the chair back in place and moving closer to the bed, enough to let Eddie see his face and take his hand between his trembling fingers. “I’ve got you, I’m here”.

And Eddie smiles. A soft, tired smile, and closes his eyes, and seems to swallow painfully. But when he blinks his eyes open he seems more focused, pupils reactive and another smile curves a corner of his mouth, before turning into a tiny grimace.

And before Eddie can say a thing Buck moves and takes the glass of crushed ice and with a spoon helps it to Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie gulps, closing one eye, tightening his grip on Buck’s hand at the same time. “Thank you”.

“You are welcome” Buck answers simply.

“You saved me” Eddie points out, a furrowed brow and a confused expression. “I was… thanking you for that”.

“I’m pretty sure the surgeon has the merit of it all” Buck scoffs.

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing a little growly sound, that can be some kind of imprecation, all in all. “You had my back” Eddie murmurs, his voice sounds like a tired, broken whisper. And even if focused, his eyes are wet, tired and Buck, god, can’t help but think about that brief chat with Ana, just a few moments ago. He just wants to make him happy, protect his heart and Christopher’s with every beat of his own heart. “You had my back, I knew you were the right one”.

“You are talking nonsense” he chuckles. “Who knew you were such a lightweight for painkillers, or at least you are on the pretty good stuff”.

“You saved me” Eddie repeats, louder. “Take a bit of credit and sit.” and when Buck starts to move, Eddie’s grip on his hand tightens a bit. “Don’t go…”.

“I’m not going anywhere” Buck assures with a tiny snort.

Eddie rolls his eyes, the littlest smirk curling on his lips. “You look like… someone who wants to… flee”.

Buck sighs, a weird, almost whimpering sound, and executes the order, moving back, but not letting go of Eddie’s hand, to bring the chair closer to the bed. He isn’t going to flee, he simply isn’t ready yet to that conversation, to all that amount of different kicking emotions that are moving in his head, in his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

But Eddie doesn’t say anything more. He just looks at Buck, a soft, fond, happy expression on his face for a bit, Buck couldn’t say how long, until Eddie starts to doze off.

“Stay here. Don’t go” he asks and it sounds like a plea, while he closes his eyes and his breath comes even at every movement of his chest, like he is already asleep.

“Rest,” Buck whispers, his lips mouthing a soft peck on the back of Eddie’s hand, right below the bruise of where the IV enters his skin.

“That doesn’t count as a first kiss” Eddie protests.

And Buck scoffs. “You need to take me out to dinner first”.

“… had enough near death situations… we could skip a date…” Eddie whines adjusting his back on his pillow, but doing so he moves his injured shoulder. “Owh”.

“Easy there” Buck recommends.

Eddie looks at him with his wide, brown eyes. Pupils dilated a bit due to the painkillers, maybe. “Stay” Eddie repeats.

“I’ll be here, you’ll find me here when you wake up” he promises.

And Eddie does a thing with his face, a stupid yet fond expression, and hums a pleased sound. “You’d better be. We need to talk”.

When Eddie finally dozes off, Buck heaves a long, wet sigh. He can break a bit now, and come back anew at some point.

#lamalefixwrites #s04x13 coda #does it still count as a coda right?#911 fic #911 spoilers #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #major character injury #angst with a happy ending #angsty anon's tag #askbox always open #buddie fic

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lamalefix · 3 years

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Hey the anon who asked for angst here! I want what you did wirh Eddie in your story with Buck now. Like stopping functioning and things like that... But i'm a sucker for happy endings! Maybe even bittersweet and uncertain. So to answer you, yes yes yes. I know what I'm asking fpr. I want you to hurt my feelings. do your worst!! and thank you!!

Hey there angsty anon! (now that's your name)

You asked for this, so... here we go, this is going to be a multichapter thing, but somehow i was inspired? So please read it carefully.

thank you for your words, I hope you find this of your taste

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV),Evan "Buck" Buckley Tags: Medical Procedures, Blood, Major Character InjuryDeveloping Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s04e13 Suspicion

Can’t have you disappear [1/3] (also on ao3)

When deployed, soldiers need to complete a range of physically demanding tasks. And they train for those tasks. It occurs that you have to move under fire, carry equipment, transfer ammunition and… well, the worst of all evacuate casualties. A casualty drag is excruciatingly challenging and involves dragging a fellow soldier from a hazardous environment to a safe location as quick as possible.

That’s what comes to Buck’s mind after a few seconds. He’s on the ground. Asphalt tastes weird in his mouth, copper-like, strong and salty.

He blinks and takes in, drinks in, the body, the pair of eyes that look lost, not so far away.

There’s the voice of someone barking orders in the radio, the same person that’s holding him down. And when Buck blinks again, he clearly sees that person, that body, not so far away.

Eddie. That’s Eddie. That’s Eddie in the middle of the road, a pool of blood under his face. Hand outstretching slightly, fingers trembling. Eyes fixed on something. On him maybe? Or maybe lost.

Asphalt doesn’t have that weird, coppery and salty taste. But… blood has.

He needs to do something.

Do something.

He blinks again ad remembers his preparation as a Navy SEALS before the other one as a firefighter. Close down, bottle up, no emotion. Nothing.

He needs to move. Do something.

When he first started casualty drags simulation during training, he dragged dummies all covered in gears that could even weigh 132 kg total, crawling as fast as he could.

And at some point, he moves.

He doesn’t even notice when he does, with an impossible ache, urgency, he just moves. It’s like muscle memory, it’s like some other part of him kicks in and takes his place. It’s like the gear rolls backwards and clicks in that very spot, the right one and he reacts as he knew, as he was before. A Evan Buckley that was so long forgotten in his new almost-happy life over here. The Evan Buckley who at some point decided that being a Navy Seal was a good idea, that maybe was even good at suppressing emotions and being like a robot.

It’s fun that at some point you need to do what you resent the most, uh?

But, well.

He needs to do something.

That’s how he grovels and takes Eddie, dragging him while crawling back between the ambulance and the firetruck. Muscle memory, soldier training, casualty evacuation.

Fast.

He needs to be fast. Faster maybe. The fastest he can.

That captain, whose name he doesn’t remember, barks something and he growls a guttural, raw sounds that escapes his throat and sounds like an echo from another distant memory. But that gear runs backwards again, and clicks back in.

He needs to do something.

Do something.

And so, he focuses on the wound.

Not on the blood that soaks Eddie’s uniform and spatters on his own white shirt, that wedges in the bed of his fingernails, that moistens his palms.

He needs to focus on the wound.

He tears Eddie’s uniform shirt, and assesses the breathing, uneven, labored, almost strangled, there’s a sound like a hiss.

Sucking chest wounds happen when an injury causes a hole to open in the chest, usually are caused by stabbing, gunshots or other injuries that penetrate the chest.

It’s about the size of a coin, the blood looks like boiling, at every hissing breath, as it’s being sucked back in the chest at every inhale and sputtered out at every exhale. And the blood doesn’t even look like blood anymore, around the wound, it’s more like foam, bright red, maybe pinkish.

When he moved, when he dragged Eddie in a safer place, between the truck and the ambulance, Eddie made a weird sound, like a protest, that ended up with coughing blood.

But he needs to move, he needs to move, he needs to do something.

And it’s became a silent mantra.

No emotion, get your shit together.

He would stop, a part of him would stop and talk, because he talks a lot, a whole lot, and that’s maybe what he does best, but now there’s Eddie bleeding out, so he has to focus and do something.

So he repeats the drill. Sucking chest wounds care. He knows how it works. He just needs to act.

Sterilize your hands. No time for soap and water, but he has a sanitizer gel in his pocket (thanks covid-19?), he doesn’t have time to put on gloves, he couldn’t even find ‘em if he wanted now. He has to focus.

Maybe he mutters something, a silent prayer, Eddie is someone who prays so he should do that for him, or maybe he just says sorry, sorry, sorry when he points his hand hard over the wound. You’d usually ask someone else to keep a hand over the wound while preparing a dressing, maybe even the patient, but Eddie lies there, still, not even moving his chest to breath, eyes open.

That’s when Buck moves his hand to cup his cheek. That’s when he finds his voice back.

“Eddie? Eddie, stay with me? Please, please, please. Stay with me” it’s all he manages to say. “We need to get you back home to Chris, y’know?”.

And that’s when Eddie coughs again, and blinks, and his eyes roll back for a moment, a weird staggering sound that comes from his mouth.

“Hey, hey, no. Okay, no weird sounds. Just stay awake for me” he murmurs, and moves to get something from Eddie’s medic bag. Because God, he has that bag with him! There should be a fucking Halo Chest Seal, there better be one.

But he needs to focus, he needs to.

The best way to do this is to spill the contents of the bag on the ground, maybe not the right choice, but the only one if you are working with only a hand, while the other is still applying pressure on the wound.

The gear rolls back in place. And he repeats the drill from where he left off.

Find a chest seal or a sterile, medical tape or plastic to seal up the wound.

“Eddie breathe, please. Breathe out” he asks, and Eddie, ever the good soldier, breathes out, a broken, painful breath.

Someone is barking orders around them, but Buck has to move. Buck has to do something.

Do something. Faster. Faster. The fastest you can. Even faster than that.

That’s his mantra. He doesn’t have that much time. Eddie doesn’t have that much time.

The Halo Chest Seal is one of the very first chest seals made commercially. It’s no-frills, and works very simply. It’s essentially a sterile piece of plastic with an adhesive backing.

He cleans the wound, wiping off the blood with a gauze he found in the bag before spilling its content on the ground, so that the adhesive can stick and he murmurs something that sounds to his hears like a prayer, but then again is maybe something he is asking Eddie. Stay awake. Stay with me.

When he applies the right pressure Eddie groans softly.

Then he needs to move him on one side, he needs to be fast. Faster. Because Eddie lost a lot of blood, and even if he just coughed up blood only once, once too many.

He tears the remnants of the shirt off, and uses another gauze to wipe again the blood and the dirt, from the entry hole on his back, and this time Eddie groans louder.

And maybe in his head he plays a weird conversation with him, maybe a reassuring one. I know it hurts. But you are safe now. We are going to save you.

The captain of 133, Matha? Metha? Whatever barks something again and that makes the other gear, the one on which he usually moves slip in the place and take over.

But Eddie does a thing, a odd sound with his mouth. Shortness of breath, eyes lost and glassy. The seal is trapping air that’s escaping from the lungs. No. Not the right time to develop a pneumothorax. Not while there’s a fucking shooter on a roof. Not while their aid isn’t here yet.

A needle, he needs a needle. A fourteen, or maybe a sixteen gauge needle, an eight centimeter needle is more successful than a five centimeter one, but increase a risk of injury to underlying structures. He maneuvers him back supine, and when Eddie does that sound again, Buck just moves faster.

Do something.

Faster.

The preferred insertion site is the second intercostal space, in the mid-clavicular line, not even a inch above his wound, so he will have to insert the needle anywhere in that same hemithorax to decompress the developing pneumothorax. He just uses his antiseptic gel to prepare the area. And he should really find lidocaine to provide anesthesia, but there’s no time, Eddie has no time. And even if it will hurt like hell, periosteum and parietal pleura are highly pain-sensitive, he can’t waste time.

He pierces the skin over the rib below the target interspace, a couple of inches below his wound, and then directs the needle cephalad over the rib until the pleura does that little pop, that’s hard to hear when your heart beats like Buck’s now, but there’s the sudden decrease in resistance.

It’s when Eddie breathes better and doesn’t do that ominous, strangled sound again, that he inserts the chest tube. And while he does that, there’s the whistle of the ambulance siren that fills the air.

He shouldn’t hop on the ambulance, but that’s what he does, when the paramedics start to move Eddie. They are all under held targets, but they need to move, and bring Eddie to the nearest hospital.

His legs tremble when he sits near Eddie, his hand in his, his fingers trembling.

He outstretched his hand as if to come to Buck, to comfort him somehow, as he always does, with his touchy-feely show of affection. But what communicates the most, of Eddie, are his eyes. Expressive, soft, caring. Every single thing Eddie tells, comes before in his eyes, and seeing that the only thing he could do at that point was to look, glance at Buck maybe, it was his own personal way to comfort him.

And out of muscle memory, now, Buck 4.0 kicks in, and just lowers his gaze. Emotions showering over him, intense like a hurricane, but he can't, he can't break. No emotion, not now. Maybe it's time for Buck 5.0. The only thing he can do is focus on that hand, clammy and still, fingers cold and his. And he sturts humming voiceless prayers, an invocation to whoever is God and Holy to not take Eddie away.

Not from him, not for himself. He wouldn’t ask anything like that, not of Eddie, because he is very serious with Ana, but for Chris.

That’s how prayers work, right?

Something that’s not for you, asking for something that’s for someone else. And what’s more important than a child’s sake?

They saved a kid today, they earned this. Right?

#lamalefixwrites #s04x13 coda #911 spoilers #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #major character injury #blood #graphic depiction of medical procedures #angst with a happy ending #angsty anon's tag #askbox always open

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lamalefix · 3 years

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Can't have you disappear [3/4] (also on ao3)

!!!! extra chapter out soon !!!!

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)

Characters: Eddie Diaz,Evan "Buck" Buckley, Christopher Diaz, Ana Flores

Tags: Medical Procedures, Blood, Major Character Injury, Developing Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Episode: s04e13 Suspicion

After a while, Buck can’t really say how long, maybe it’s been hours, doctors decide to move Eddie in a private room, on the sixth floor.

So, Buck has to leave his side in order for them all to have enough maneuvering space. But, as soon as Buck let’s go of Eddie’s hand, the man starts to stir. And Buck steps closer to his bed again, so that he can hush him to sleep drawing circles on his scalp with his fingertips, while the nurse tries to put a face mask to cover his lips and nose.

And in just a matter of seconds, Eddie is again out like a light, and before they start to wheel him out the room, Buck steps out, into the corridor so he can follow them into the other unit. He sends a quick update text to everyone, abuela and all the others long gone home after checking in a couple of hours ago.

He then follows the nurse and the doctor that are still talking in medical, a language that now sounds like something foreign. At least, now Buck doesn’t need to know, or understand completely every single medical term, they aren’t even talking about Eddie right now, because Eddie is out of danger. Alive. He almost wasn’t, yes, but that’s not the thing Buck needs to focus on.

He can’t follow them in the same elevator, so he takes the stairs, and climbs them three steps a time, so he can be at the third floor as fast as they are. Burning energies for all those flights of stairs might be helpful for his mind to go blank, right in the few minutes he can’t see Eddie.

He is fast, even when tired, even if his leg hurts the most now, but he must be there when they push Eddie out of the elevator. And he is there, a second or so before the elevator’s door open and they start to walk again in the corridor. But this time Eddie shifts, and groans, and opens his eyes, and moves his legs, kicking, and tears the mask from his face, biting the air in front of his nose. “-uck?” he calls with low, raspy voice.

The nurse stops in his heels and looks at the doctor for a second, before searching for a clean mask, while Buck sprints, and reaches the bedside so that Eddie can see him right there and then, and makes a grabby gesture to the nurse, “Here, let me help you with that mask” he murmurs.

And Eddie wrinkles his nose, something that might be a bit painful because he closes his eyes and groans a low curse against the nasal ventilator. But when he re-opens his eyes, Eddie seems quite happy. “…y’er here”.

“Where else would I be?” he asks, slipping both the rubber bands behind his ears, carding his fingers in the hair on the back of his head. “You asked me to stay, I’d never go away”.

And Eddie does one of his weird-whole-face expressions, that to be honest are as goofy as adorable, all curled eyebrows and lips. Like all realization and confusion, . “‘vrytin’ spins”.

“That’s ‘cause you are moving, Eddie. These kind nurses are wheeling you around on a bed…” Buck says, chuckling. “We are going to your new room”.

“Oh?” is all that Eddie says, lips curled into a tiny ‘O’, and that’s clear even if now he has a mask on, eyes big and languid, as he moves his hand on Buck’s one on the siderail.

“You should sleep a bit more, you know?” Buck hums.

“…r’u stayin’?” Eddie asks, voice all kneaded by painkillers and sleep, and blood loss and maybe something else, that Buck doesn’t need to know, really.

And the nurse chuckles softly.

“Yeah” Buck answers with a quick nod. “I sent everyone home”.

“R’lly?” Eddie slurs, closing his eyes.

“Yes, yes” Buck repeats softly. “Now, close your eyes, I’ll be there when you wake”.

“Yeah?” Eddie pleads, voice muffled by sleep.

“Promise” Buck nods.

The new room is tinier and less bright than the other. The walls are pale dahlia with a thick light bluish line in the center, in hospitals, the decorations are designed to be restful, but more often than not come off as akin to choices you’ll do if you own a funeral home. The floor, linoleum tile, is white with small purple dots at every corner.

After accommodating Eddie’s in the center of the room, the nurse gave some instructions about the lights and the call button, the phone and so on, so Buck decided to turn off all the lights aside of the entryway one, so that if Eddie wakes, he can see him there.

Eddie sleeps intermittently, after that. The heart monitor beeping and marking time slowly.

Every now and then, he opens his eyes to search for Buck, and every time Buck squeezes his hand back, a smile, beautiful cracks on his face like a raising sun. And he hums in contentment, when Buck starts to murmur something under his breath to lull him back to sleep.

And it’s only for that, that Buck doesn’t sleep at all. That’s what he repeats himself. To take care of Eddie and make sure that he knows he’s there. And not because he can feel all the nightmarish vision of Eddie on the ground, blood pooling under his still, so still, body, pushing behind his tired eyelashes.

He can’t sleep, he can break a bit now, but not sleep, that’s clear. He can’t sleep because Eddie is still in a hospital bed, in bad shape, even if he is all alive and talking, now snoring, and all. But… he can’t sleep. Sleep means letting your guard down, and he can’t do that. Not now.

Abuela came in, first thing in the morning, with Pepa, and left after a few recommendations. He called Carla, in order to tell Christopher that his dad is alive, and safe, and snoring like a dormouse, that made him giggle, he promised to call him, when Eddie wakes.

He talked briefly with Bobby, over the phone, about what to do next with the sniper still on the run. He caught a tiny, super tiny shift in the dynamics between Bobby and Athena, when they were about to leave last night, but really didn’t want to dig in deeper. That’s not something he should do, not now, at least.

So he stays there, vigil, because when you keep vigil, you have to stay, you know, well vigil, his two still awake and bouncing brain cells suggest, and watches over Eddie.

It’s only in the late morning that Eddie starts to stir gently. And it’s marvelous to see. It’s like a tiny dewdrop started to move along his nerves, and tendons, starting from his tiptoe, slow but steady, to his fingertips, to his eyes, to his mouth, giving new life in every centimeter, in every cell of his body.

He looks less pale, now. Paler than normal, but less pale than before.

When he opens his eyes, this time, they look refreshed, rested, focused. A bit glassy, but not as much as before.

Buck smiles softly. “Good morning sunshine”.

And Eddie closes his eyes, again, the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You are here”.

“Wouldn’t miss your awakening for anything in the world” Buck replies wrinkling his nose, as Eddie does the same.

“I didn’t think you could be such a flatterer” Eddie says, throaty, moving with his head enough so he can give a better look at Buck. “Have you slept?”.

“The chair isn’t that comfy” Buck shrugs. “And I know for certain that that bed isn’t either”.

“Not that bad” Eddie debates.

Buck huffs a small sigh. “Wanna drink something?”.

Eddie nods, “We need to talk and… I─I have to call Chris”.

“I already talked to him over the phone, told him when you’d wake up I’d let you call him” he says getting the glass of ice from the bedside table.

“You…” Eddie starts to say, but Buck helps a spoon with shredded ice in his mouth.

“I had to tell him… that you, that you wouldn’t get home last night” Buck says simply, then. “It was… hard”.

Eddie looks at him, a weird, incognizable expression in his eyes. But then he closes them, and sighs softly. “That’s what being parents is. Hard talks and so on… Bobby said it’s like walking with the heart outside your body, and that’s true…” he articulates, but he’s breathless after all this talking.

Buck helps another spoon of ice to his mouth. “I’m not his parent, Eddie.” he murmurs. “I’m just a friend that helps out and chills at your house more often than others,”.

Eddie chews the ice before swallowing it. “That’s exactly why we need to talk” he decides, a smartass smile curling on his lips. “Can we call Chris, now?”.

Buck gets his phone and taps on Carla’s contact. “Here, I’ll just…” he starts to say getting up and gesturing to the door.

“Stay” Eddie asks, and this time it doesn’t sound like a plea, but like an order.

And he can’t really move, now. Not if Eddie wants him there. So he sits down again and waits there, next to that bed, on that terrible chair.

“Hey Carla, guess who’s awake?” Eddie jabbers, all happy and playful. And Buck has to wonder, how long this will last, how long Eddie will have the strength to keep the barriers up and leave all that happened to him out of his proximity, out of his heart, far away from the people he loves.

He hears a muffled sound of pure joy, and then Carla starts to argue, in her scolding tone. And Eddie chuckles a little a sharp shiver of pain at the movement of his diaphragm that leaves him once again breathless.

And Buck leans forward to help him up a bit, wrinkling the cushion, and rubbing circles over his chest as if to let him breath better.

Eddie smiles back at him, mouthing a silent thank you. “You are right, I’m sorry. I know…” he sighs then, rolling his eyes before looking at Buck with a soft smirk. "Can I talk to him, now?”.

When Chris’s voice comes from the speaker, all brittle and breathy, Buck moves his hand away.

Eddie’s eyes glimmer bright and watery when he hears his son’s voice, and his lips twitch at the corners, for a second. “Hey buddy” he croaks, voice low and hoarse. “I know, I know… I can’t wait to see you too, I miss you so much”.

Buck closes his eyes, and tries to let the gear roll back in, but that doesn’t work this time. Every string in his heart now aches to feel every single emotion, but he needs control now, not feelings, now there is no time to break, not when Eddie is hurting and aching and trying his best to not let the walls come donw. So he lets them talk for a while, switching off his brain as much as he can, so that he can stay here but even let them have a bit of privacy. Easier said than done.

“Yeah, I know you are” Eddie chuckles softly again, and this time it doesn’t seem to hurt as much, because he doesn’t hiss in pain after that. “Yeah he is with me, like you told him to do. You know how much he loves you”.

And that’s the moment when Buck opens his eyes, and looks at Eddie, a furrowed brow.

“Hey Chris, what do you think if Bucks comes to live with us? For a bit?” Eddie says quietly looking straight in Buck’s eyes, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips.

And Buck is about to say something but he can clearly hear Chris all loud, silvery, happy over the phone. “Why not forever?”.

“Maybe even forever if we are good enough for him” Eddie adds.

And Buck looks at him, mind blank for a whole moment, he maybe mouths something but he doesn’t even know what, but Eddie heard him and just does one of his stupid all crouched face expression, one that seems to say a silent don't worry.

He can’t hear what Chris says now but Eddie chuckles again. “Yeah, she’ll be your friend but not being around our house as much… but I’m sure she’ll love to hang out with you sometimes…”.

“’Cause we have Buck!” comes all boisterous and happy from the phone.

“Exactly, we have Buck” Eddie nods, and repeats all the same so that he’s sure that Buck is listening clear enough. “Now I have to go buddy but, I’ll be home as fast as I can, and know that I have Buck with me so…” he stops and listens to his kid. “Yes, exactly. Buck says hi too”.

Buck stays still for a while it seems that almost-dead-yesterday Eddie, is now having the moment of his life. All cocky and bully smirk on his face. “Did I break you?”.

Buck rolls his eyes. “You are ridiculous”.

“You are” Eddie replies, wrinkling his nose in a stupid pleased expression. “We need to talk”.

“Where are you going to start from? Asking me to move in, without asking me to move in, or… you know talk in general about… what are we Eddie?” he babbles, all the word crumbling down on his tongue.

Eddie closes his eyes, and hums a happy stupid sigh. “You kept talking”.

Buck widens his eyes, that now burn with something, like tears and disbelief. He can’t find his words, now, but somehow talked, at some point.

“Let’s skip past near death clichés, alright? The one you see in the movies, where life restarts… and replays all the beautiful moments I lived…”, he slides his hand in Buck’s, squeezing it. “But you kept talking. When you were… y’know? Saving my─my ass, you kept talking”.

“I don’t remember,” he admits. “I wasn’t thinking, it was just…”.

Eddie squeezes his hand again, in the clear attempt to comfort him.

“You were reaching out for me, I had to do something and…”, Buck stops and shakes his head, his heart trembling in his chest. And he curses under his breath. This isn’t the moment to break, fuck, this is the moment he says something stupid, or cheesy, and just leans in in this weird open hearted talk, about sentiments, and life and death situations and who saved whom. Because Buck for sure knows that Eddie saved him way before he saved Eddie.

“You saved me, that’s all that matters now. You saved me. Even before this… this whole shooting thing” Eddie murmurs in such a low voice, that makes every single thing in Buck shiver and wobble, aching painfully and oh, God, lovingly. And this isn’t clearly the right moment, they haven’t even dated yet, let alone acknowledged theri feelings. “And I took my sweet time to get to the point to… to finally let me fall into the right place”.

“I…” Buck starts to say, but Eddie interrupts him.

“I know, I know, trust me...” he says, and Buck is certain that Eddie knows, like perfectly well what he was going to tell. “It’s too fast, I know. I know…” Eddie murmurs. “I was like… dating Ana up ‘til yesterday and now I’m asking you to move in with me and Chris without giving you a choice and… like hell you don’t have a choice, you can tell me to fuck off and.. and… and…” he mumbles, a nervous trainwreck. Buck has never seen him so jumpy, almost worried. “God, I’m not even sure you are…”

“I am,” Buck assures, easy and fast, smiling.

“You are?” Eddie repeats slack-mouthed, staring at him with his stupid doe eyes.

“I am, oh God, I am” Buck repeats leaning in to mouth a small peck on the back of his hand, and Eddie’s fingers tremble on his own.

“Why didn’t you… say anything?” he asks.

“Because I didn’t want to ruin anything. We are pretty good as friends, right?” Buck shrugs, simply. “Also, Ana seemed perfect”.

“She was just the easy choice, not the best one” Eddie replies. “But… you know, you look around and search for something that you already have and… and just ignore what you have and… I don’t know if─”.

“It makes sense, Eddie, yes” Buck acknowledges, drawing tiny circles with his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand.

“And then I couldn’t move, you’d say at some point if you get shot twice the second time doesn’t hurt that much… but…” Eddie rolls his eyes and twirls his lips, in a tiny grimace, that may be some kind of pained smile, something that he does when he tries not to let the emotions flow. “I couldn’t move… and it was scary because you were… there and… and I just wanted to reach out and… help you clean that smudge of blood, my blood, from your face… from that shirt that, god… fits you so well. And I couldn’t think nothing aside of… what will Chris and you do if I…” his breath is now short and harsh and his eyes look wild, glassing with unshed tears and fear. “I was so scared”.

Buck moves closer to the bed, and cups his cheeks, but doesn’t say anything at first, but then he sighs. “I was too”.

Eddie closes his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath. “So much… All that time wasted while I just tried to… to believe that I was happy with Ana, for Christopher’s sake but… we are happier with you, the happiest, and I knew I screwed everything up because I couldn’t be with you. Because I didn’t want to give a name to that thing we had... that thing i wanted to have with you... and… and I was losing everything there... and… you know, I… I just”.

“I’m not going to kiss you right here, you know?” Buck says, playful, and Eddie whines. “We are going to take it slow, and heal. I’ll go home with you and help out and… everything but, you need to woo me, Eddie”.

“You literally got my shirt off… you should be the one to take me to dinner, at least…” Eddie says, eyes glassy and tired but a cocky smile on his lips.

“Oh god” Buck groans. “I couldn’t even think about anything back then… I just had to do something. Definitely didn’t savor the moment, we’ll need to replay that… maybe without life-death situations and blood”.

“Definitely without blood” Eddie nods. “You saved me.” Eddie murmurs, his big and tired eyes now have a look that maybe only Buck and Christopher know like that. It’s fondness. So tender and amazing. And Buck forgets how to talk for a while even if he wanted to retort and just scoff off, again, about what he did. “Don’t even try that, just… it’s the truth you saved me, even before I… I knew I needed it. You helped with Chris, you helped me… I knew I could rely on you and… you were always there, a comforting presence… for us, for me”.

“You did the same with me” Buck says, softly. “That’s how friendship works,”.

“That’s how… we work.” Eddie corrects him, closing his eyes with a tiny smile spreading on his lips.

“Maybe we were meant for each other from the very start” Buck tries to say, in the attempt not to sound too cheesy or romantic, or just disillusioned. But, well, that’s how feelings really work, talking at ease. He can let his guard down a bit.

“We are going to take it slow,” Eddie promises in a whisper. “So, we can have time to heal and… take care of each other, and see… we can try, just… promise that we will talk, mh?”.

“I’m the talkative one, you know.” Buck nods.

“We need to talk more, about other arrangements like… I want you to be Chris’s guardian and… forget it for now … I don’t want to pressure yet so…” Eddie stops, gulps and does something with his face a knowing look, all brows and eyes and lips moving into a weird, funny, stupid expression.

Buck huffs out a small laugh, “You just asked me to move in, like a moment ago“.

“I didn’t really ask” Eddie asserts, curling his lips. He looks tired again, now, but happier. “But I don’t want to waste any more time”.

Buck rolls his eyes. “You’ll need to wait, tho. Because I don’t want our first kiss to be here, in a hospital bed. I’d picture it in the backseat of the uber we are going to take home”.

“Seems about right” Eddie nods voice croaky, closing his eyes slowly, like his eyelids weigh more now. “I’m a bit sleepy. I hate painkillers”.

“They are working their magic, you know?” Buck murmurs, mouthing a kiss on the top of his hand, minding, as always, that big bruise where the IV enters his skin, and Eddie heaves that tiny satisfied sigh. “I’ll call abuela, and when she comes here I’ll go to the station, we can’t leave them two men down”.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Eddie says, shifting in his bed enough so he can rest better with his head on the pillow. “I really want that kiss, y’know?”.

“Oh I want the whole package, too, so I’ll make sure to come back in one piece to you. So that I can move in when you get discharged” Buck nods.

Eddie smiles a fond, stupid, adorable smile. “The whole package sounds about nice… take my saint Christopher’s medal with you, like a charm”.

Buck is taken aback by those words. “I can’t possibly accept it”.

“I mean, I can’t watch over you if I’m in bed,” Eddie does a tiny shrug, and then hisses in pain again. “Just give it back when you come back here” he adds, words slurring on his tongue.

Buck groans, fishes his hand in the box of Eddie’s belongings and takes the necklace. “Alright, alright. Just sleep now, I’ll be here tonight”.

“It’s too soon to tell you?” Eddie asks, with a small voice, eyes closed and breathing thick and even.

Buck smirks. “Definitely, we need to talk and have a date first”.

“We did a lot of dates” Eddie slurs.

And Buck is about to retort, to say something, but Eddie dozes off and snores, like when babies are talking a moment, and the next they fall asleep. And he huffs a small laugh, tiny and crystalline.

Marveling his future for a minute, it starts to seem bright and hopeful. All the bumps in the road are still there, and what will happen next is still uncertain and confused but they’ll have time to heal, to get better, and to love. As weird and amazing as it sounds.

#lamalefixwrites #s04x13 coda #does it still count as a coda right?#911 fic #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #major character injury #angst with a happy ending #angsty anon's tag #askbox always open #now with a bonus chapter #can't have you disappear

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