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Love me anyway.
It echoes, constant and pained. She can hear it every time she closes her eyes, every time she rubs her tummy, every move her baby makes, she hears her brother’s anguished pleading for parents who never tried.
Love me anyway.
It was so simple, something so basic, expected even.
Maddie sits, folding newly laundered baby clothes, thinking about all the firsts that are fast approaching; holding her baby for the first time, that first smile, first giggle, first yawn. She already feels so fiercely protective and devoted to her child, and they aren’t even a part of the world yet, still safe and a part of her, protected by her all consuming love.
Her maternal love.
The thing is—It’s just—Well, really—
It’s easy, is all.
And Maddie knows her parents struggled with something so horrific she can’t even contemplate it, doesn’t want to imagine how she’d feel, even just to give root to thoughts like that. She can’t imagine not getting to see her baby grow up, having to let that go, feeling that loss, but…
Love me anyway.
They didn’t even try with Evan.
They had him for Daniel, and it didn’t work, and it’s like they walled off. Maddie remembers what it had been like before, she has those memories of parents who cared, who tried. She remembers outings; mom wiping chocolate off her face with a soft laugh, dad lifting her onto his shoulders so that she can see further, mom tickling Daniel when he was being silly, tucking them in at night, taking them for ice cream.
Evan doesn’t have any of those memories, he never got to have parents that loved him freely, who doted on him, who cuddled on the couch during movies.
He grew up in a cold house, where he couldn’t watch the television because it upset mom, where he couldn’t go to the movies because no one could take him, there were no family outings, no trips to the coast, no tucking into bed. Evan had to battle for every shred of attention, and it always came at a cost.
Love me anyway.
Maddie loves her brother with ever fibre of her being, but she left him in a mausoleum he couldn’t even understand, running from the haunting of the little brother she was never allowed to talk about, leaving the other one with hollow shells of what she used to call mom and dad.
And he endured, and ached, and moved through life craving the attention they never showed him. And it might’ve taken a while, but he found it.
Love me anyway.
Bobby lost both his children. Maddie doesn’t know the man well, but she’s never felt anything but fatherly affection from him, those afternoons they spend at the Grant-Nash house, so lively and full of love, how easily Bobby laughs, embraces, loves. She knows that her brother turns to his Captain like a son to a father, knows that Bobby shines under that trust.
Anne and John lost their son. But they adore Howie. She knows it was hard at times, knows there is pain there, but they show up, they try, they love Howie like he was their own flesh and blood, they feed Albert, they’ve opened their arms and their hearts to Maddie, they’re so excited about the baby.
There’s no tense and awkward meals, no treading on eggshells, no anger and disappointment and grief placed on the shoulders of a boy who doesn’t even know why they can’t love him.
Love me anyway.
They never even tried.
Maddie can’t help but break, aching for the pain her little brother feels, for the loss of Daniel, who she’s never been allowed to grieve.
She won’t become her parents. She can’t ever become her parents.
The second dinner is just as tense.
“So, Evan—”
“He asked you to call him Buck.” And Maddie is the one making it tense.
She broke down, she gave in, and she broke down and by the time she’d put herself back together, she’d made the decision there and then. They didn’t love him, they couldn’t, then she was going to. She’d pour it all into Evan, they’d regret it, eventually. They’d wake up and see what they’d missed out, but she was done letting Evan feel like he was the problem when it was them.
“Maddie, that’s not his—”
“It’s his name,” she’s never cut her mother off, never been so terse with them, not even when she was adamant that she loved Doug and nothing they said would stop her marrying him. “He’s told you to call him Buck, so call him Buck.” He’s not telling them it’s okay, not telling Maddie just to leave it.
She can tell that he’s still wrung out from the last dinner, that Eddie and Bobby and Athena probably pieced him back together, that Chris most likely cheered him up, after she’d put him in a place that let them tear him down.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
“Um, well, how is—You had a shift today?” Dad’s trying to find something to talk about, the tension evidently getting too much for him.
“Yeah, we… It was good, yeah.” The glances between Evan and Howie tell her it wasn’t good at all, but they’re not about to let that slip presently, it seems.
“Nothing worth talking about in therapy, then?” She deeply regrets mentioning to her parents what Buck had confided in her about, that they’re making it about them instead of being grateful that their son thinks enough of himself to focus on his mental health.
“What Buck talks about in therapy isn’t up for discussion,” Maddie interjects, her tone warning. “He doesn’t need to explain it to you.” Buck pauses with his fork midway to his mouth, eyes flitting between her and Howie, Albert ignoring everything as he shovels food into his mouth.
“Mads, are you—” He stops before he asks her if she’s okay, something she’d had a small rant about not too long ago, the way that Howie is constantly asking her if she’s okay at the smallest of things.
“Everything is fine, how is your meatloaf?” Her ire is instantly shifted when she faces her brother, smiling softly, watching the light sparkle in his eyes.
“It’s great, thanks.” They return to eating in relative silence; cutlery clicking on the plates, glasses knocking on the table as they sip the alcohol-free wine that Albert and Evan brought with them tonight.
It’s not until they’re sitting back after the meal, when Evan starts coughing slightly, clearing his throat. Albert hops out of his seat instantly, darting to the kitchen to bring Evan a glass of water, letting him sip at that while Howie distracted her parents with a conversation about real estate.
The water doesn’t clear Evan’s throat, the coughing carrying on, getting more pronounced and heavy.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” Maddie moves to rub at Evan’s back, as he continues coughing, leaning onto his knees. “What’s—”
“He was in a factory fire,” Howie darts off, grabbing his med bag from the bedroom, sliding to his knees by Evan’s side. “He was in the longest, refused to go to the hospital because he’d miss dinner,” Evan waves his hand, as if to dismiss Howie’s reproach, but he can’t stop hacking up a lung to actually say anything. “Buck, you told Bobby, c’mon, the deal was if I said hospital, you’d go.”
Maddie can see their parents edging away, mom folding herself into dad’s side, and Maddie shakes her head.
“Howie, call for a bus,” Maddie puts her foot down, right as Albert comes back into view with the phone to his ear, “Evan, sweetie, please.” He glances up at her, but his breathing is laboured, harsh, like he can’t catch his breath. He needs oxygen, needs his lungs scanned, needs help. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” her hand cards through his hair, “Please, let’s get you to the hospital.”
Evan finally gives a shaky nod, agreeing to Maddie’s soft hopeful pleading, letting Maddie stroke his hair while he keeps coughing. Albert lets the paramedics into the apartment, directing them towards Evan and Maddie.
“—fire, he showed low symptoms at the scene, was on oxygen for an hour, monitored through the day. He started coughing about fifteen minutes ago, progressively worsening,” the paramedics listen intently to Howie as they fix the oxygen mask over Evan’s face, pulse oximeter attached to his finger as they run their initial checks.
“Okay, do you have other symptoms beside the coughing?” One of the medics asks, prompting Evan to tug the mask down slightly.
“Headache, breathing is hard.” There’s a wheeze in his voice as he speaks, “Sore,” one hand rubs at his sternum.
“His skin is clammy, and he’s a little paler than usual.” Maddie adds, squeezing Buck as he leans against her.
“Okay, we’re taking him in. He’s going to need an ABG, I’m not liking his pulse ox stats.” They set up the gurney, halting Buck’s arguments. “Firefighter Buckley, we’d rather not have a concussion on our hands if you collapse down the stairs.” They get him strapped down, radio ahead, and Maddie grabs her purse.
“I’m going with him, will you—”
“I’m rallying the troops, we’ll see you there.” Howie nods, pressing a kiss to Maddie’s lips.
“Oh, you’re going to…” Mom clutches at her necklace, glancing away, “We don’t…”
“Don’t worry, mom,” Maddie cuts her off, “He doesn’t need you with him, the people who love him will be there for him.” There’s no doubt in her mind, that the people who love Evan, the people who matter to him, they’ll meet him there.
“Athena’s meeting you there, Bobby’s dropping the kids with Michael,” Howie steers her to the door, “Go, we’ll catch up.” Maddie gets to the ambulance, letting the paramedic help her up, moving to grab Evan’s hand and squeezing tightly.
“I’m right there, sweetheart,” Maddie comforts, one hand on her bump, the other holding Evan’s hand tightly.
Maddie is in the waiting room when Athena walks in, instantly crossing the hospital waiting room, arms open.
“Oh, honey, come here.” And this is love, right here, this is a maternal instinct to comfort. Athena’s arms wrap around her, Maddie soaking up the warmth and comfort that it brings. “He’s gonna be just fine, you hear?” Athena tucks her fingers under Maddie’s chin, raising her head and keeping their eyes locked, “Your brother is a fighter, he’s not going anywhere.”
Before long, the core of the 118 is in the hospital waiting room, Howie by her side, gripping her hand, Athena and Bobby constantly checking on her, Eddie bringing her cups of tea. After two hours of waiting, the nurse appears to let them know that Evan is responding well to the treatment.
“His respiratory system is inflamed, but the initial scans are coming back well. The doctor wants to keep him overnight, we’ll keep him on oxygen and scan again in the morning,” it’s hopefully, at least, and Evan’s got the medical team to keep an eye on him. “It is after visiting hours, but we will let you call see him before you go. Please, try to get him to keep the mask on?”
“Oh, don’t you worry,” Athena says from Maddie’s shoulder, “he’ll be told.”
Although it’s not exactly policy, they’re all allowed in to see Evan.
He’s so small in the bed; washed out from exhaustion, his curls wild from her earlier petting, the mask covering most of his face as he lies on the too white sheets in a too bright room.
Love me anyway.
Maddie’s heart breaks when he spots them, the obvious surprise at everyone being there, that they showed up for him.
“Do not take that off, keep that on and let us adore you, you here?” Athena crosses to his side, petting his hair down like Maddie does, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You behave yourself, okay?” He nods at her, a little drowsy but pliant under the maternal affection.
Love me anyway.
“I want you to take a week off,” Bobby steps up to his wife’s side, laying a hand on Evan’s arm, a gentle squeeze for comfort. “And I want you at lunch this week, no excuses.” Evan hums behind the mask, turning his hand to squeeze at Bobby’s hand in response.
He mumbles something else behind the mask, making Bobby shake his head with a smile.
“Kid, just get some rest, would you?” Maddie’s mostly focused on the way Bobby grips to Evan’s hand, missing how Hen and Eddie tease her brother, Howie standing by her side and throwing in his own comments.
Love me anyway.
Athena and Bobby stay by Evan’s side, Athena absently petting his hair, Bobby grasping his hand discretely, and Maddie knows.
This is love. This is parental love, this is a mother and a father; concerned, loving, supportive. This is what family is, this is what Evan found, despite their parents doing everything they could to make him feel empty and worthless.
Love me anyway.
Athena and Bobby love Evan; they love the cracked parts of him that he hides from people, they love the lonely parts that creep out when he’s feeling insecure, they love the boisterous parts that rile up their other kids, they love the reckless parts of him that throw him fully into saving the lives at work. They love him as a whole, all his facets, the good and the bad, just as he is.
Athena and Bobby are the parents he deserves, the ones he’s always wanted through his life. And she’s so glad he found them.
Gradually, they filter out, Eddie promising to pick Evan up in the morning, Howie telling her he’d wait outside, while Athena presses another kiss to Evan’s head and whispers something softly. Bobby surprising her by leaning over to kiss Evan’s forehead himself, clasping his cheek gently.
“Listen to the doctors and the nurses, we’ll have you back at the station soon, but you need to take care of yourself.” Evan nods softly, raising a hand to clasp Bobby’s wrist. “We’ll see you soon.”
Then it’s her and Evan in the room, his soft, dopey smile just for her.
“Hey you,” he lets her take his hand in hers, perching on his bed, “so, Eddie will pick you up tomorrow?” He nods at her, “And I’ll see you over at Bobby and Athena’s in a few days?” There’s a little frown on his face. “Sweetie, Eddie is picking you up, he’s definitely taking you home with him.” The soft dopey smile is back.
“Mawmnded?” Only Evan’s tendency to talk to her with a mouth filled with food means she knows what he said, but the smile fades when he understands that, even though they were right there, watching him struggle to breathe, they still didn’t come with them. “Not here, right?”
“Evan, sweetheart,” smoothing a curl from his forehead, Maddie cupped his cheek, letting her thumb stroke over his birthmark, “Your parents just left.” She tells him firmly, pointedly. “I’m sorry I involved them in your life again, I’m sorry I told them anything, but I promise, we’re done dealing with them and their inability to function as parents.” She wasn’t going to let her brother feel this empty way any more, she wasn’t going to let them make her child feel like that ever.
“We have everything we need right here, don’t we?” He nods softly, squeezing her hand gently. “That’s all we need.”
Soon, she’ll tell him about Daniel. About their parent's faults, why there’s nothing wrong with him, why it’s all on their parents.
She’s going to stop being complicit in her brother’s pain. And she knows that he’ll love her anyway.