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Buck's the first one to notice, when it happens. Which, later, he will think is ironic. The bad things seem to just be drawn to him, even when he's minding his own business, scrubbing the ladder truck down.
There's a man walking through the open foyer doors, a hoodie hiding his face from view, and he looks to be shaking. Immediately, Buck stops what he's doing, frowning as he goes through a mental checklist of what could be wrong with him. The first and most logical option is that the man is injured.
"Sir? Are you okay? Do you need help?" The blond calls, edging toward the man. Wide, dark eyes meet his, and Buck figures it out from the smirk on his face.
In the next instant, the man jerks his hand out of his pocket, a gleam of metal flashing before his eyes. And suddenly there's a gun pointed at his face, his heart dropping into his stomach.
"H-Hey, you don't have to do this, we can talk about this," Buck tries to placate him, holding his hands out in a surrendering gesture. "Just tell me what you want."
The man flips his hood down, revealing a completely relaxed smirk, and he scoffs. "Where's the fun in that?"
The blood drains from Buck's face as he realizes that this man is of completely sound mind. He's doing this because he wants to. And Buck. . . Buck can't let his family get hurt, even if they don't care about him.
He's a split-second away from lunging to disarm the gunman, when a woman strides in, a matching weapon in her hands, and he knows there's no way he can disarm one of them without the other attacking. "You are going to take us to the rest of the firefighters," the gunman commanded, eyes flickering to the name tag on his uniform, "Firefighter Buckley."
Despite knowing it probably wouldn't work out in his favor, he immediately opens his mouth and yells, "Bobby! Gun!" He expected the blow to the head, but that doesn't change the fact that it hurts, his vision backing out for a split second as he drops.
By the time he registers that there is now blood rolling down the side of his face, Buck is being pulled up by the gunman, the weapon jammed against the side of his head and an arm wrapping around his neck as they look up to the loft, where the team stands, frozen in shock.
He'd hoped that they would've heard his warning and run, but clearly, they hadn't.
"Sir, Ma'am, you don't have to do this," Bobby begins, hands in front of him as he starts down the stairs from the loft. "If you just put the guns down, we can talk about this." The captain's eyes flick between the gunman and gunwoman.
"Yeah, I don't think so," the woman snaps, and she jerks her arm to point her gun at Buck. Great, that makes two lethal weapons aimed in his direction. "Get all your asses down here or we blow pretty boy's brains across the truck he just finished cleaning."
Buck can't help the way his eyes widen at that, his breath hitching in his chest. He's sure his hands are shaking where they hang limply at his sides. Despite all his crisis training, nothing had prepared him for this, for the fear in his family's eyes as they all trail down the stairs toward them. He's sure he's blinked a dozen times by now, but his vision just won't clear completely. His head is spinning, and Buck briefly wonders why that is, before feeling the blood dripping onto the collar of his uniform and remembering the hit to his temple.
There's a churning feeling in his gut as he realizes how bad it is that he forgot he was pistol-whipped. "What do you want? You don't need to hurt Buck, we're all going to be compliant," Bobby starts, his face hard and anger boiling beneath the surface. A choked noise leaves Buck's lips at the thought of Bobby being angry at him. He knows he deserves it but he just hates it. He hates it when people hate him.
He's always been the type of person that can't stand it when he's not liked. And really, he thinks it would've been easier if the team had never liked him at all, because he wouldn't know the difference, wouldn't know what it was like to have people who cared.
"We want you in a line by the firetruck, now," the gunman says against Buck's ear. A shudder wracks the blond's body, but he tries his best to ignore it, keeping his eyes on his team. Hen and Eddie look more tense than Chim and Bobby do, and he realizes after a solid beat that it's likely because of their past experiences with guns.
And damn if that doesn't make Buck feel guilty, because. . . because he should've done something to stop this, right? He should've stopped this. Wordlessly, the team complies, coming to stand stiffly side by side with their hands held out in front of them.
"On your knees," the woman spits, making Buck flinch involuntarily. He sees something in his teammates' eyes, but he can't quite figure it out. A few seconds tick by, before, his jaw set, Bobby kneels.
Taking his lead, Hen and Chim follow. Eddie doesn't. He squares his jaw and stares directly into the eyes of the gunman. Deliriously, Buck wonders if Eddie hates him so much he's just trying to piss the guy off enough to kill him. "Sorry," Buck slurs, blinking slower than before.
"She said on your fucking knees, Firefighter Diaz," the man hisses, tightening his arm around Buck's throat enough to make his hands fly up and try to loosen the grip. At that, Eddie reluctantly sinks to the ground.
"Look, you don't have to do this," Chimney begins, a hint of desperation in his voice, before the gunwoman swings her gun towards him.
"Shut your mouth! We'll do what we damn well please."
Tears sting Buck's eyes as he sees the fear on their faces. This is his fault. He can't remember how but he knows it is. "Hands on your heads, all of you, now," the man says, and once again, Bobby obeys so the others follow suit.
Sticking to the pattern, Eddie simply glares, his nostrils flaring. "Why don't you come over here and make me?"
Buck doesn't understand why Eddie wants him to get hurt so much, he thought they were friends. No, they're not friends anymore. That must be why. The arm around his neck tightens again, but this time it's too much, and he can't breathe.
A strangled noise escapes his mouth as his eyes widen and he claws at the arm, but the hoodie keeps his nails from doing any damage, and with the head wound, he's not strong enough to peel the--admittedly pretty muscled--arm away from him. "Do you not like Firefighter Buckley or something? Do you want me to hurt him?" The man sneers like he's being sarcastic, but he got it right, so Buck jerkily nods, even as his lungs burn and he makes desperate, choked off noises.
The whole team suddenly sucks in a sharp breath at once, at the same time that Eddie finally obeys, a weird look on his face. Why is he scared? Why is he. . . sad?
"Buck--" Hen starts, but she's silenced by a sharp look from the gunwoman. What was she going to say? Was she going to say that she's mad too? That he deserves this because of what he did?
Maybe she was just going to say that he's going to be okay. If she was going to say that, Buck already knew. He's with his family, they always make sure he's okay. Well, they used to anyway. Maybe he won't be okay anymore because they don't want him to be. The man with the gun doesn't seem to want him to be, because he still can't breathe, and he's starting to get really tired.
"-et him go! He's not doing anything! He can't breathe, please!" Why is Hen screaming? Did he do something? Is she screaming at him?
"Stop this!" Eddie yells, and even with how tired he's starting to feel, Buck flinches. He doesn't like it when Eddie yells at him.
You're exhausting, rings in his ears.
Buck's hands fall away from the arm around his neck, and he notices that his ears are ringing, black spots dancing across his vision. Just when he thinks he's going to pass out, the arm is suddenly gone, and he can hear again.
They're all yelling, but he doesn't know what about as his legs give out. Crashing to the hard floor, Buck sucks in air greedily, blinking rapidly and coughing so hard he's surprised another clot doesn't come up. "Buck! Buck, are you okay?" Bobby exclaims, and the younger man vaguely recognizes that he'd been asking for a solid minute.
"Y-Yeah," he eventually manages to rasp, panting as his gaze lands on the blood dripping onto the floor from his head. Blood? Isn't there something important about him and blood?
"Look, Buck's on blood thinners. If you'll just let us--"
Oh yeah.
"You aren't doing a damn thing. Buck will be fine," the gunwoman snaps, and at his name, the blond looks up, taking in the mix of emotions on all of his team's faces. They don't look look like they believe her. So he won't be fine?
Tears are joining his blood on the ground, he realizes, and before he can even attempt to gather his thoughts again, the gunman is yanking him up to his knees by his hair. It draws a pained cry from Buck's already sore throat, his confused gaze flickering desperately between his old friends.
He's in pain, confused and so damn sad about them hating him that he doesn't know what to think. "Stop hurting him!" Eddie cries angrily, his eyes shining.
"Stop hurting him? You want me to stop hurting him?" The gunman asks, but he really doesn't sound like he means it. The next thing Buck knows is blinding pain in the same spot he'd already been hit, and when he opens his eyes again, he's on the ground and everyone around him is yelling.
Whimpering softly, he thinks he begs them to stop. It hurts.
"--doing what you want! Just leave him alone!" That was Chimney.
Trying to blink away the blurriness, Buck whimpers again, searching for Eddie. Eddie was there when the truck was crushing him, he was holding his hand and telling him everything was going to be okay. With a choked cry, Buck reaches his hand out toward his ex-best friend. He wants everything to be okay again.
Eddie looks even more angry at that, and Buck can't help the pitiful sob he releases. He's sorry, he doesn't want him to be mad anymore. "Sorry," he gasps, "sorry, please."
The yelling doesn't stop. In fact, it gets louder, and Buck hates it. He thinks he's begging again.
A loud bang cuts off all the yelling, and it hurts Buck's head so much his eyes fall closed again. He only manages to peel them open again when he realizes it was a gunshot and somebody could be hurt. And then he sees the indent in the ground not a foot from his face, and realizes it was him that could've been hurt.
He doesn't want to hurt anymore. It's a thought that has him sobbing painfully, his eyes screwed shut. "It's okay, you're okay, Buckaroo. You're gonna be okay," Hen is reassuring him, he realizes. He finds that he believes her. Hen wouldn't lie. Still, he cries.
When he opens his eyes again to the sounds of the gunman hissing something at the woman, he sees that that team's arms are all behind their backs now, probably tied up. How'd they tie them up so fast?
"If any of you move a single fucking inch, I'm gonna fill Firefighter Buckley here full of so many holes, you'll mistake him for swiss cheese. Got it?" The man growls, and the team look so mad again.
Buck's tired again, his eyes starting to flutter closed, but they fly open when a booted foot collides with his side. A mangled yell tears from his throat as he feels his ribs crack from the force, his face crumpling.
"Stop! Please, stop!" That was Eddie, and he was. . . crying?
The gunman doesn't stop. Next time he kicks harder, and Buck's vision whites out. When he's aware again, he sees Hen sobbing, while Chim and Eddie are just crying silently. Bobby just looks so fucking mad.
"Babe, babe, maybe you should stop? We don't wanna kill him," the gunwoman says softly, so softly he's not sure he was supposed to hear it. Apparently the gunman doesn't like that, and lands another kick, this one in his abdomen. It makes him let out a garbled scream, a pain filled sob ripping from his throat.
"Babe! We were just supposed to scare them!" The woman hisses, louder this time.
"They look pretty fucking scared to me!" The gunman responds, punctuating each word with another kick. Buck's fully weeping now, his whole body pulsing in pain as he curls around himself, reaching one hand in the direction of his old best friend.
"Help," he pleads, "help, 'ddie. Please."
Eddie looks murderous, and Buck only cries harder.
"LAPD! Step away from the firefighters and put your guns down! Now!" A familiar voice yells, and even with his jumbled thoughts, he knows that voice. That voice means he's going to be okay.
With that thought, Buck slumps with relief, his eyes falling closed as he continues to cry quietly. He doesn't know how much time passes, but the next to him he opens his eyes, he's lying on his back and his family is surrounding him, their faces wet with tears. "There's those pretty eyes, keep them blues open for me, Buckaroo," Hen says, her voice trembling, but there's also a blinding smile on her lips.
"Hen," Buck gasps, looking wildly between them all. Finally, he finds Bobby and his face crumples again. "Sorry, 'm sorry. Don' be mad, 'm sorry," he cries.
"Hey, hey, nobody's mad at you. It's okay, Buck, you're okay," Bobby assures him, making a weird face, and Buck still hurts so bad he can barely breathe, but Bobby said he's okay, so he's going to be okay.
"I'm 'kay," he repeats, wheezing, and the hand on Eddie's side reaches lazily for him, fumbling. The other man seems to get the hint, quickly intertwining their hands with a worried furrow of his brow. "Eds," Buck pants, and with their hands clasped together, with Bobby, Hen and Chim's constant reassurances, he knows he's going to be okay.
So he lets his eyes close, even though they're all yelling for him to not, because he's always okay with his family there.
The beeping beside him is doing nothing for his absolutely blinding headache, Buck thinks the second he's aware enough to process any thoughts. The next thought is ow. His ribs are definitely broken, and he's pretty sure his entire torso is just one giant bruise at this point. For a moment, his brain stutters to a stop because he doesn't remember how he got these injuries.
And then it all flies back to him in what's probably the most embarrassing, chopped up memory to exist. He remembers bits and pieces. He remembers when the shooters came in, remembers the fear and anger he kept seeing on his team's faces. He remembers the hurt, and he remembers bawling his eyes out like a baby. Besides that, it's blank, and he knows he must have a Grade 3 concussion.
Maybe that's why when he opens his eyes, he sees Bobby and Eddie at his side. They don't seem to notice him yet, both of them looking literally anywhere but at him. He has just a second to wonder why they're there when they'd both made it very clear that they were still pissed as hell at him about the lawsuit, and then they see his open eyes.
"Buck!" Eddie breathes, his hand tightening in the blond's. Oh. Buck's gaze drops to their intertwined hands, but he doesn't pull away. He'll take whatever he can get before Eddie pulls away.
"Eddie? Bobby? What are you doing here?" He rasps, coughing at the dryness of his throat, and the way it still hurt from being strangled. It had to have been bruised at least.
Their brows practically shoot through the roof. "What are we doing h--Buck, you almost died in front of us. Why the hell wouldn't we be here?" Bobby asks him incredulously, but the younger man only blinks at him as if the answer's obvious.
"You--The lawsuit. You guys are pissed," he replies quietly, his pounding head doing nothing for his confusion.
"Jesus, Evan, we don't give a shit about the lawsuit right now," Eddie says thinly, but the anger in his voice suggests otherwise, and Buck shrinks in on himself, his gaze dropping to his lap.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, attempting to pull his hand back, but Eddie's hand just tightens in his.
"Buck, you've got nothing to be sorry about. That's something I should've seen a lot sooner," Bobby says, sighing, and the tiredness in his voice makes Buck's gaze wander back to him. "I didn't not let you back because you weren't ready. It was because I wasn't ready."
He must've made a confused noise, because Bobby winces, looking down to his hands briefly. "Almost losing you, with the truck, and then the embolism, I didn't want to risk losing you again." He meets Buck's gaze, and the younger man is sure his Captain can see every fleeting emotion on his face. "But as yesterday proved, hell, as the tsunami proved, you're always going to get hurt, and there's nothing I can do to stop that."
Buck made to argue that what happened wasn't his fault, but Bobby beats him to it, "I wasn't ready, and I let my emotions get in the way of a professional opinion. It never mattered if I was ready or not, it matters that you are."
That's when the words finally process, and it feels as though his brain is short-circuiting as he blinks rapidly. "Y-You're--Are you saying I can come back?" He asks, trying not to let the hope into his voice.
"Once you get the all clear from the doctors, you can come on calls again. I never should've stopped you in the first place," Bobby confirms, and that's all it takes to spread a beaming smile across Buck's face.
"Thank you so much, Bobby. You won't regret this, I promise," he says, tone bordering on giddy. It was enough to make Bobby's lips twitch upward.
"I'm gonna go let everyone know you're alright," he says, standing up and dropping his hand onto Buck's leg, squeezing comfortingly before he leaves. Buck watches him go, and keeps his gaze on the doorway to avoid looking back at Eddie, who still refuses to let go of his hand.
"You gonna look at me?" Eddie eventually asks. Just to be stubborn, Buck would have kept looking away, if he didn't hear the sadness in his voice. Nervously, the blond swallows and meets familiar brown eyes staring right back at him.
"You don't have to stay. I'm sure Maddie--"
"Buck, the president could be in the waiting room for you, and I'd still be here," Eddie says firmly, and there's something so incredibly sad in his voice.
And Buck just. . . doesn't get it. "I don't. . ." He trails off, his brows furrowing, but quickly smooths his face out when the expression tugs at the stitches he hadn't felt before.
Running his free hand down his face, Eddie sighs heavily. "I was wrong. Everything I said to you, in the grocery store, after--Buck, you are not exhausting, you never were." His voice breaks at the last word, and Buck's eyes widen as he watches the tears shining in the other man's eyes.
"It's--"
"Buck, if you're about to say it's okay, I'm gonna give you another concussion," Eddie warns, and it's enough to make a small laugh escape Buck's lips. "I was angry. At Shannon, at the world, at you, but it wasn't an excuse for what I said, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Buck, and even if you don't forgive me, you've gotta know I was wrong."
"Of course I forgive you," he responds easily, a small grin forming on his lips already, and the hand in his feels warmer, more comforting. Eddie looks like he wants to argue, like he wants to make Buck be mad at him. He doesn't.
Instead, he wraps his other hand around their entwined ones, and he drops his head onto them. Buck's smile fades as he watches the hunched form of his friend. "Eds?"
Taking a shaky breath, Eddie raises his head again, and when they meet eyes, a tear streaks down his face. Buck frowns, concerned. "Eddie, what--?"
"We almost lost you. I almost lost you," his voice cracks again, and it makes tears of his own rush to his eyes.
"I'm here, I'm okay, Eddie," he assures, squeezing his hand.
"But you weren't," the other man stresses, looking at him like he's trying to memorize what he looks like. "You coded on the floor of the station, and then again in the back of the ambulance, and each time I thought you were gone, I thought this was it and you'd be dead without knowing how much I--" Eddie cuts himself off again, swallowing hard. He drops his gaze to their hands again.
"I didn't know that," Buck whispers, but his heart is pounding at the insinuation, at the hope of what Eddie was going to say.
Watery eyes meet his again. "When he was hurting you, you were begging us--begging me to help you, and all I could do was sit there and--" a sob tears from his throat, and Buck's chest aches.
"It wasn't your fault at all, they'd have shot me or any of you guys if you'd tried to stop them. It's better that it was m--"
"It was not better it was you that fucking died, Evan!" Eddie snaps, loud enough that it makes Buck flinch. That's the second time since he woke up that Eddie's used his first name. When he thinks back on it later, he'll realize that these were the first times Eddie'd ever called him Evan.
Buck's mouth opens and closes like a fish multiple times, before he finally just purses his lips, because he doesn't know what to say. The anger bleeds out of Eddie as they watch each other. "Have you ever thought about what losing you would do to us? To me? To Chris?" He asks him, sounding so genuinely heartbroken that Buck doesn't shoot back some worry reply.
He doesn't say that they'd tape someone else's name over his and replace him without a second thought, because he knows it's different. He knows that dying is different than losing his job. Buck can't help the image that flies through his head the next second, Christopher in a small black suit he shouldn't have to wear, trying to be strong for his dad but eventually breaking because his Buck isn't there anymore.
He sees Hen sobbing the way she had when booted feet were breaking his ribs. He sees Chimney crying but trying to hold back for Maddie. Maddie, who'd be crying so hard she could barely breathe. And he sees Bobby, who wouldn't cry at the funeral, but later in Athena's arms where nobody else could see.
He sees all of this, and it hurts, and God, he never wants to do that to them, but the thing is. . . He won't see it. Because if he was dead, he'd just be gone.
If it wasn't him, though? If it was someone else, he would see that, he'd be another crying face in a crowd, and he'd have to see it, he'd have to lose someone.
So even though he doesn't want to die, doesn't want to make his family lose him, he'd still rather it be him. He'd still rather everyone else live. "I-I do," Buck finally mumbles, a tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek.
"Do you?" Eddie asks. "Do you really get it? Because every single time you do something reckless, every time I almost lose you, I can't breathe, Buck. It's like losing Shannon all over again but worse."
And, oh. Finally, Buck does get it. "You-You mean it?"
"Yes, Evan," three times now, this one a little exasperated, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time," Eddie confirms.
He should be shocked, should be questioning everything now, but if anything, he just feels lighter. He feels ready. "I love you too, Eds. For a long time too."
They're both smiling now, which with their tear covered faces, probably looks a little weird, but neither mind. "How long?"
Buck scrunches his face together and tilts his head. "Probably around the time we almost got blown up together," he answers easily.
Eddie suddenly freezes, and for a moment he fears he's said something wrong, before, his face scrunched in confusion, he asks, "Is it bad I'm wondering which time?"
Buck's laugh is silenced by Eddie's lips on his, and despite how badly he still hurts, despite the past months of hurt, he knows he's going to be okay, because with his family, he always is.