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Bobby couldn’t bring himself to look at Hen when he returned to the loft after telling Buck to head home early.
Despite that, he could still somehow feel her raised eyebrow and the judgement it was transmitting. He headed towards the kitchen, walking with purpose in the hopes that it would dissuade her from asking about how his talk with Buck went.
He knew that he hadn’t handled it correctly. He’d known from the moment the suggestion that Buck leave early left his mouth that he had taken the wrong direction.
It wasn’t even like he had intended to say it. He had gone down there with every intention of clearing the air and finally talking to Buck about the haunting spectre of the lawsuit that still hung over them.
But then he had taken one look at Buck’s face – Buck’s eager to please face, which was exuding pride for a job well done even though it wasn’t the job he’d wanted to do – and the only thing that Bobby could think about was how happy Buck had looked seconds before he had started coughing up blood at his own welcome-back party.
And how eager he had been to return to work the next day, without a single thought given to his latest near-death experience, just as gung-ho as Bobby had been once upon a time.
That haunting spectre of the embolism and Buck’s reaction to it was overwhelming and the urge to protect had completely overtaken him and so the suggestion that he knew very well sounded more like an order slipped out.
His stomach was already churning with guilt just thinking about the way the sunny pride had dropped off Buck’s face only to be replaced with vexed resignation. He knew that Buck probably thought that this entire shift had been a punishment. He also knew that telling him to go home early only reinforced that perception.
Bobby was well aware that he should have said something to try and get across to Buck that, as hurt as he might have been by the lawsuit, none of it had ever been about punishment.
Every one of his actions stemmed from a desire not to see him get hurt again.
Not to have to see him in a hospital bed, pale and still after he’d danced with death like they were old friends.
A desire to help him avoid the mistakes that Bobby had all-too-easily seen the signs of in Buck because they had been the exact same mistakes he had made after his own almost-career ending injury.
It wasn’t like this was even new information to him. Hen might have prompted him to go talk with Buck, but the need to address it all had been at the forefront of his mind for days, if not weeks.
But anything he could think to say sounded so… so trite or unprofessional.
He cared too deeply for Buck and his desire to protect him was too strong to be able to approach the situation as he would with any other subordinate. That route could only lead to a hollow conversation which had no substance and achieved nothing.
They had all worked together over these last two years to forge this little found family of theirs but he also couldn’t leverage that for this conversation because, ultimately, Buck was not actually his son.
Treating him as such for no other reason than the fact that their family liked to teasingly claim that they acted like it would be inappropriate. Too much.
(He wouldn’t allow himself to think about the doctors who had called for him in the hospital hallway so they could ‘give him an update on his son’ nor did he dwell on the fact that he never once corrected them and entirely evaded the one doctor who idly commented on the fact that they didn’t share a surname.
Bobby was Buck’s emergency contact; it kept things simpler to let the doctors form their own views about that than try and explain how that had happened… especially considering he still wasn’t completely certain how it had happened.
He tried not to think about the physiotherapist who had encouraged Buck with his first walking exercises by telling him to ‘walk over to your dad.’ He definitely didn’t linger on the fact that Buck’s cheeks had flushed but he hadn’t said a word to the physiotherapist about it.
Buck was in pain and trying to focus on weight bearing on his leg after two surgeries and months of inactivity, of course correcting someone’s misconception was the last thing on his mind. It didn’t mean anything.
He didn’t think about the workers at the cafe they sometimes went to after those gruelling physiotherapy sessions who would cautiously ask ‘if his son was doing any better’, and he didn’t think about the time Athena came home from having breakfast with Buck at that same cafe and laughingly told him that the waitress had asked Buck ‘where his dad was’.
It was just a surface-level assumption made by a group of workers about an older man and a younger man who regularly went to their cafe and happened to look broadly alike, that was all.)
And so, since he couldn’t work out how to untangle the complexities of the emotions from the message he wanted to convey, he simply… kept putting it off.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do it. He knew he had to, both as Buck’s captain and as a – as a mentor figure in his life.
So he had every intention of having the conversation.
Soon.
He just needed a little more time to grapple with his own emotions, to calm the trepidation and terror that spiked everytime he considered how blase Buck was about the plethora of near death experiences he’d had in recent months when those same experiences filled him with overwhelming worry and fear.
However, if there was one person he knew who was always willing to tackle a difficult conversation head-on, it was Hen.
So as much as he really didn’t want to rehash it all with her, he still resigned himself to having to do exactly that when he turned around to see her leaning against the counter and staring at him expectantly.
“Buck didn’t want to come up for a coffee?” Hen asked, her eyebrow arched like she knew exactly why he came up to the loft alone.
“We don’t have long left of the shift; no need to ruin his sleeping patterns after his first day back,” Bobby answered evasively, averting his gaze when Hen’s eyebrow somehow managed to inch even higher.
“No need to ruin his sleeping patterns, huh,” she repeated dubiously, staring pointedly at the cup of coffee he had just poured himself.
“I still have paperwork to finish,” Bobby claimed, glancing around the loft in the hopes that maybe he still had a chance to avoid Hen’s probing.
Thankfully, Eddie was coming up from the stairs, turning to head directly towards them. He had one hand over his mouth, his eyes scrunched in a way that could only signify that he was covering a large yawn.
“Oh thank god, is there still coffee?” Eddie asked once he was close to the kitchen, waving lethargically at the mug Bobby was holding. “There is no way I’m getting through the last couple hours without one.”
“Careful, you wouldn’t want to ‘ruin your sleeping pattern’,” Hen said, slightly mocking as Bobby poured Eddie another cup.
“Isn’t that just in the job description of a firefighter?” Eddie wondered aloud, adding a ‘thanks’ when Bobby handed him the steaming mug. “Hey, did Buck also come up here? I couldn’t find him downstairs.” He looked around, like he had somehow missed seeing their six-foot-plus teammate in the almost empty loft.
Hen snorted.
Bobby sighed, now totally resigned.
“I sent him home,” he admitted, bracing himself for their reaction.
Hen pursed her lips, not looking surprised in the least.
Eddie seemed to shake off his tiredness entirely, suddenly looking far more alert. “What? Why?” he asked sharply, his eyes narrowed and his posture rigid. “Did something happen? He looked fine when I spoke to him less than an hour ago.”
“Nothing happened. I just thought he should take it easy on his first day back, that’s all,” Bobby explained, raising one hand to placate the frenetic surge that had taken over Eddie.
“He didn’t even go on any calls,” Eddie said, slightly calmer but now confused and a little suspicious. “He seemed like he was still full of energy…”
“I’m guessing that means you two have kissed and made up.” Hen shifted her attention to Eddie.
Bobby wasn’t sure if it was because she had finally decided to take pity on him, or if she had given up on him, or if she was just genuinely more curious to hear about what had happened between Buck and Eddie since the last time they’d all seen them interact there was still plenty of tension there. Whatever it was, he was grateful for the reprieve.
“We talked,” Eddie said succinctly, shrugging when they both looked at him with expressions which screamed ‘and?!’. “We’re all good. We made some tentative plans for a movie night tomorrow –” he checked his watch “ – later today? So that Chris can see him again, finally.”
“Good to hear,” Bobby said approvingly. He had been slightly worried that irreparable damage had been done to that friendship through this entire debacle and he was glad to hear that his worry was unfounded.
“Amazing what good communication can do,” Hen commented, her idle tone incongruous with the judgmental stare she once again directed at Bobby.
“Hey, has anyone seen Buck?” Chim called as he jogged up the stairs. “I think he’d get a kick out of this whole crow story.” He was waving around his name badge for some reason, as though this would provide any sort of context for what he was talking about.
Bobby had to remind himself that he was the captain, which meant that he couldn’t groan in exasperation in the middle of his firehouse.
“Apparently Bobby sent him home,” Eddie told him as Chim joined their huddle around the counter.
“What? Do not tell me that he managed to get hurt on his first shift back – which he spent as the man behind?!” Chimney exclaimed incredulously. He pulled out his phone, probably ready to start texting either Buck or Maddie to find out what had happened.
“He isn’t hurt.” Bobby coupled the firm statement with a stern look to make Chimney put down his phone and hopefully dissuade any other follow-up questions. “I just thought that he should take it easy on his first day back. There is nothing else to it.”
Three unimpressed faces stared back at him.
“There’s only a couple of hours left of the shift anyway,” Bobby huffed, picking up his coffee so that he could escape down to his office. “Dispatch said that things are finally slowing down so chances are we won’t even get any other calls.”
As expected, the alarm did not ring to send them off on any more calls and they were able to close out the shift peacefully.
Bobby decided that he needed to get away from the station, so he changed into his street clothes alongside the rest of the crew. His plan was to pack up the last few reports that were still outstanding and work on them at home, where he could at least try and get his mind off of everything else.
He was in the middle of doing exactly that when he got a call of an entirely different sort.
His phone started to ring right as he was holding several folders and balancing his bag on the desk against his body so that he could try and fit them in without them getting crushed – he wasn’t the hugest fan of technology taking everything over, but it was times like this that he wished the LAFD would enter the twenty-first century and digitise more of their administrative tasks.
Cursing to himself internally, he shoved the folders in his right hand into the bag and shifted his grip on the other ones in his left hand so that he could hold them in place and stop them from sinking down where the papers could spill everywhere.
He fished his phone out of his pocket with his now free hand and answered the call without even bothering to check the caller ID.
He wasn’t really expecting it to be anyone in particular, although he assumed that it was most likely going to be Athena asking how the rest of his shift went. He also wouldn’t have been surprised if it was May or Harry, perhaps asking him to make something specific since they were returning to the house tonight after a few days with Michael. He wouldn’t have even been all that surprised if it was someone from Head Office, asking about how Buck’s first day back after the lawsuit went.
The absolute last thing he was expecting was for a briskly professional voice to greet him with, “This is Nurse Klane from Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre. Can I confirm if I’m speaking to Robert Nash?”
“Yes, that – that’s me,” Bobby replied, uncharacteristically stuttering as his brain immediately started running through potential reasons behind the call.
They hadn’t transported anyone to Cedars during their shift, so it couldn’t be about a victim from one of their calls.
Surely he would have heard something from dispatch if it was about Athena, or someone from her station would have called him before the hospital would get a chance.
If something had happened to May or Harry, the first calls would have been to either Athena or Michael and one of them would have informed him in turn.
The icy jolt of realisation that this could only be about Buck hit him at exactly the same moment the nurse said, “I’m calling because you are listed as the emergency contact for Evan Buckley.”
He dropped the rest of the folders into his bag, no longer caring about the potential of the papers getting crushed. He didn’t even bother zipping up the bag before he started striding out of his office towards the parking lot.
“What happened? Is he – was it a blood clot?”
Bobby was parsing through every moment he had seen Buck during their shift – had he missed Buck favouring his leg in some way? Or rubbing his chest? Coughing?
Damn it, he’d known the risk was too high, why was Buck always so stubborn?
His entire body was pulsing with fear-fuelled adrenaline as he considered all of the worst case scenarios. He was so focused on his own imaginings that he almost missed the nurse’s hurried reassurance.
“No, no, not a blood clot. Mr Buckley was brought in by paramedics after he cut himself.”
Bobby froze.
The station kept bustling noisily around him: a team was stripping down from their turnout gear; another was calling across to each other as they rolled the hoses; a few people were loudly discussing something over at the gym.
But Bobby was just standing there, not able to feel anything except the phone he was tightly gripping in his hand. He wasn’t even sure if he was still holding his bag or if it had fallen to the ground. His mind was blank, like it simply couldn’t comprehend what it had just heard because surely, surely Bobby would have noticed if Buck had spiralled that badly?
The nurse continued to speak, blithely unaware of the reaction her words had already engendered.
“Someone is just speaking with him now. He will be free to go after that but we would recommend that he be accompanied home.”
There were so many thoughts swarming around in his head that it was difficult to focus.
Had they already finished treating him? How long after Buck left the station had it all happened?
(How soon after Bobby had dismissed him had Buck succumbed to the urge to actively, actually hurt himself? How big a part did Bobby’s inability to convey what he really wanted to say play in Buck’s decision?)
Who had called 9-1-1? Or had Buck realised he had caused more damage than intended and gone in himself? He found himself hoping it was the latter, even though that was a horrifying scenario to think through, because at least it would indicate that Buck still cared about himself enough to seek help even if he hadn’t reached out to the team or to Bobby.
(Surely Buck knew that they would help. That he would help. Or had Bobby failed to provide even that level of security?)
Buck should be accompanied home – well, of course he should, shouldn’t he also be accompanied at home?
The hospital had someone speaking with Buck – a psychologist?
It had to be some sort of mental health worker.
How bad was the injury? The blood thinners certainly could have made even a relatively minor cut something far more concerning.
(It was why he hadn’t wanted Buck to rush right back into active duty.
The irony that a shift that Bobby had orchestrated so that Buck would be as inactive as it was possible for an on-duty firefighter to be had still ultimately caused Buck to end up bleeding in a hospital was not lost in the deluge of thoughts plaguing him.)
“Blood thinners.” Bobby’s mind was still swirling but he managed to force those words out, cutting off the nurse when she went to expand on who was speaking with Buck.
(The word started with a sibilant ‘s’ sound; Bobby’s mind had already filled in the blank that she was about to mention a psychologist or a psychiatrist. He was vaguely aware that it could have even been social worker.
The idea that it might be Sergeant didn’t occur to him at all.)
He had to make sure the hospital was aware of the extra danger Buck was in after – god, after he cut himself, how the hell did Bobby not notice?
“Sorry?” The nurse dropped the brisk tone for the first time.
“He’s on blood thinners,” Bobby repeated, forcing himself to slow down, to explain himself properly.
His panicked worry could wait, had to wait. He had already failed Buck once today so the absolute least he could do was make sure that his wound was treated properly.
“After a pulmonary embolism a couple of months ago. His – his cuts won’t clot on their own.”
Saying it aloud made it seem so much more real. So much less like a nightmare that Bobby might wake up from at any moment.
As though the universe wanted to make sure that he knew it definitely wasn’t a nightmare, the bell rang. The noise was so piercing that it left no doubt that he was awake and this was actually happening.
“I can see that in his history and his attending would have taken that into account when Mr Buckley was seen,” the nurse said matter-of-factly, sounding far too unconcerned for Bobby’s liking. “You can ask for more details at Emergency – if you’re coming to pick Mr Buckley up?”
His answer was instinctual, automatic.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be there.”
The nurse hung up the phone with a far-too-cheerful farewell, cutting him off from his only source of information about how Buck was doing.
He knew that she probably couldn’t give him any more information over the phone. She might not even have any more information to give. All he could do now was try and get to the hospital as soon as possible so that he could see Buck with his own eyes.
Bobby hefted his duffle bag back over his shoulder – because it had in fact dropped to his elbow at some point during that conversation – and started striding towards the parking lot again.
He was stopped in his tracks again; this time by Strader, the B-shift captain, who was about to get into the station’s battalion vehicle. “Bobby? Everything alright?”
“Fine,” Bobby said shortly, frustration starting to rise with the interruption. He stared at the battalion vehicle for a moment – it had lights and sirens that could get him to the hospital that much faster and he was half-tempted to tell Strader that he needed it instead.
“You sure?” Strader confirmed, puzzled and concerned, one foot already in the car.
“Yeah.” Bobby waved him off and continued striding towards his own car.
No matter how badly he wanted to get to the hospital quickly, he couldn’t justify stopping Strader from reaching his scene quickly. Buck was already getting help, whoever B-shift had been called to was still waiting.
He threw his bag onto the passenger seat from the driver’s side, not wanting to waste the precious seconds it would take to open a different door to set it down properly.
The worry abated somewhat when he started driving, since at least he was doing the only thing he could do for Buck right then.
Except then that left space for the frustration and anger which had been simmering beneath that worry to consume him.
All of the similarities between them that he had noticed over these last few months… and yet somehow this particular similarity to his own downfall into the deepest, darkest, most painful depths of his mind had completely passed him by.
How could he have missed the signs?
How could he not have noticed that Buck was struggling so badly that he would turn to self-harm to deal with it?
The car in front of him stopped at the orange light; an intense wave of fury crashed over him, making him grip the steering wheel tightly enough that his knuckles turned white.
Just how many of Bobby’s mistakes from these last few months had contributed to Buck’s mental state when he had decided to swipe at his own skin?
What had he used? A knife? A razor?
Bobby had responded to a call once where a young man had punched a mirror, claiming that he had been overcome with rage at his own helplessness, and then used the glass.
Buck wasn’t the type of person to let his anger get the better of him like that.
But then again, Bobby never would have expected to get a call that Buck had cut himself either.
He supposed that no one had expected his own alcohol and drug abuse either, back when he’d first fallen into that insidious form of self-harm.
The images were plaguing him, strengthening the itch to keep moving even though he was thoroughly constrained by Los Angeles’ morning traffic. He stabbed at the bluetooth button in his car, deciding that he may as well try and use the time to update Athena on what was going on.
He didn’t care if all the nurse had said was that Buck had to be accompanied home. If Buck was harming himself, then he would need the support and love of his friends to help him get out of the dark thoughts he had fallen prey to. His family.
Bobby had thought he could do it on his own and he had been thoroughly proven wrong.
(Buck had led that charge: he remembered the visit where Buck and Hen had dragged him out of the shower, sobered him up and sent him off to an alcoholics anonymous meeting; he remembered the random evenings that Buck would appear with some clearly well-rehearsed excuse to hide the fact that he didn’t think Bobby should be alone; he remembered how integral Buck’s spirited enthusiasm had been to the slow but steady development of their now tight-knit circle.
The memories made the bite of his failure sting that much more.)
Athena started to greet him as soon as she picked up, but he interrupted her, unable to bear going through any pleasantries.
“I’m heading to Cedars to pick up Buck.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and then Athena asked, alert and incredulous, “What happened to that boy now?! Don’t tell me you finally let him on a call and he ended up injured?”
“No.”
The wave of fury rose again, this time accompanied by disgust at himself because maybe if he had told Buck he could join them on a call then he never would have resorted to hurting himself.
Bobby was approaching another orange light – this time he swerved around the car in front of him, gunning the accelerator so that he made it across the intersection right as it turned red.
The honks that sounded behind him must have been audible through the speaker, because Athena’s next words were sharp with concern.
“Bobby, what in the –”
“Athena, he cut himself.”
The noise of the traffic around him was all he could hear. He was beginning to wonder if his bluetooth connection had failed or if the call had dropped out when Athena finally responded.
“Bobby, are you sure?”
“The hospital called and said he cut himself,” Bobby said, trying not to sound too impatient since he sympathised with the disbelief she must be feeling.
There was a pause before his wife spoke again, her words calm and cautious and clearly deliberately chosen. “He cut himself , or he sustained a cut?”
“He cut himself, Athena,” Bobby said shortly, letting the impatience through after all. “I just – I don’t know how I didn’t see it.” He squeezed his hands together over the wheel, since he was stuck at a red light yet again and he desperately needed to expend some of his frustration.
“Alright,” Athena said calmly, unruffled by his harsh response. “Alright, I’m sure we’ll get the full story once you get to Cedars.”
Yes. The full story so that Bobby could catalogue all of those signs he had missed and store them somewhere in his memory bank so he would never miss them again.
“Do you want me to meet you at Cedars? Or at Buck’s loft once you get him home?”
The thought of potentially leaving Buck at his loft and not being able to have him in his sight where he could make sure he was safe made him sick to his stomach. “I’m going to take him back to our place.” He took the silence as surprise and added defensively, “He shouldn’t be alone right now, Athena.”
“Fair enough,” Athena agreed, still perfectly calm. “I know I would be exactly the same if it was May or Harry.”
The additional comment was pointed with an underlying meaning but Bobby was beyond caring. He had finally reached the intersection that would take him to Cedars-Sinai.
“I’m almost there,” he told her. “When you get off shift, do you mind getting some groceries? I want to make some comfort foods – mac and cheese, maybe? And some muffins. Something with chocolate.”
He remembered what he had been like when people he knew and cared about discovered his self-destructive habits. Defensive, and ashamed, and still unable to shake off the dark impulses that had led to those choices.
Hopefully some decent comfort food would help coax Buck out of that mindset.
“Sure,” Athena said.
(Bobby was far too distracted and consumed with his own thoughts to notice how fond she sounded.)
“Let me know how Buck is as soon as you can?”
“Will do. Thanks, Athena.”
Bobby’s full attention was now diverted to combing the area for a parking spot. He swung his car into the first spot he saw, grateful that it was reasonably close to the ED entrance. It was only a half-hour spot, which he suspected wouldn’t be long enough, but it would do for now.
The drive to see Buck was even stronger now that he was so close. He could always move the car again once he had at least made sure the kid was physically alright.
He was thankful that they often ended up at Cedars with victims from calls. It meant he could march straight to the emergency room doors up to the front desk without having to waste any time asking for directions.
Grateful that there also wasn’t anyone currently speaking with the staff at the desk, since he was probably at the point where he would have been willing to interrupt anyone who was there and he would have felt terrible about it afterwards, he started speaking without waiting for a greeting.
“Excuse me, I’m looking for a patient brought in not long ago – Evan Buckley?”
She started to look up something on her computer. Bobby was willing her to do it quickly when, suddenly, he heard his name.
“Bobby?”
That was Buck’s voice.
He twisted around, startled, to see that Buck was standing right in front of the entrance to the ER’s waiting room, somehow, impossibly looking… okay.
“Hey,” he said, striding over, his eyes roaming as he searched for evidence of the self-inflicted injury he’d been told about. “They said you were injured. That you –” he hesitated for a brief second, wondering whether he should bring it up straight away, but forged on, “cut yourself.”
Buck shifted his arm, drawing Bobby’s attention to it. There was indeed a decent-sized bandage adorning his forearm but it didn’t look like an overly serious injury at first glance.
“Uh, yeah, I just got some shallow cuts from the broken windshield glass.” He looked a little bit sheepish as he explained it, gesturing again at the bandage. It was pristine, no blood visible on it at all, backing up the claim that the cuts had been shallow.
But – windshield glass?
Buck continued, oblivious to Bobby’s sudden confusion.
“I told the paramedics I was on blood thinners and they sealed the wound.”
Well, at least Buck had been upfront with the paramedics… but something about this whole story seemed odd. The pieces weren’t matching up.
“But they brought you here. To the ER.” Bobby shifted his gaze up to scrutinise Buck’s face instead of the wound, hoping it would help him get down to the bottom of this whole thing.
“Right, uh, no, they just thought I should get checked out,” Buck clarified easily, giving Bobby a little shrug like he wanted to add ‘what can you do?’ “I just finished giving the police my statement.”
Bobby nodded, his head swimming with all these new details and trying to reconcile them with the scenario he had already built up in his head. “So what happened?”
“It was crazy. Um, some lady hit this guy two days ago and he got stuck in her windshield. She must have hit her head pretty bad because they found a brain bleed. Probably why she was so confused.”
Bobby nodded along, as though this was all making sense to him. It was an incredibly implausible story, especially in comparison to the explanation that Buck had simply decided to hurt himself. However, first responders were well acquainted with bizarre, hard-to-believe stories, and Buck’s posture was relaxed and he was holding eye contact so there was no reason for Bobby to think that Buck was lying to him.
“And what about the guy in the windshield?” They wouldn’t normally know much about what happened to a victim after they were transported to the hospital, but if he knew Buck…
He was immediately proven right, because Buck answered without even a momentary pause.
“He’s in surgery. Docs say he has a fair chance.”
The whole thing was still so bizarre and yet it was so very Buck to jump straight in where he could see that help was needed. Given the woman had apparently been driving around for two days, he was sure that plenty of people would have seen the man in the windshield.
But nobody else had managed to help until Buck came across them.
Bobby was still experiencing a tangled whirlwind of worry and stress and guilt but it was pride that now came to the forefront and made him smile for what felt like the first time since Buck’s welcome home party had abruptly ended in panicked chaos.
“Because you jumped in there and saved him.” He glanced down at the bandage again and added, with rueful certainty, “Probably didn’t even occur to you to worry about yourself.”
It was a statement of fact more than anything else, but Buck seemed to take it as criticism, closing in on himself defensively.
“Yeah, I know, I know. I didn’t think, just rushed in like I always do,” Buck rattled off, sounding tired and perhaps a little bitter.
It was something that Bobby had told him off for many a time, and he knew that saying anything about it now would appear disingenuous at best. But it also seemed like Buck still had more to say, so Bobby only tilted his head slightly and waited for him to finish.
“I guess – it’s like the uniform is my costume.” The hint of bitterness disappeared, Buck just sounding tired and wistful as he continued. “You know, I put it on, and suddenly I’m brave and strong, and I make a difference. Feels like without it, I’m not much of anything.”
Buck was hunched in on himself, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at Bobby and waited for a response.
Bobby remembered what it was like, to have his identity so thoroughly tied to the uniform they wore and the job they did.
That reliance on his identity as a firefighter had consumed him, sending him down a path of self-destruction until he lost his family and was totally and thoroughly defeated. It had taken Buck and Hen’s caring interference, the 118’s unending support, and Athena’s grounding presence welcoming him into her family to illuminate a different path.
He had been convinced that Buck was on that same destructive trajectory, and Bobby couldn’t bear having to watch the kid he’d grown to care about have to endure those experiences. He’d been desperate to veer him away from those dangers that he knew so very intimately.
But as Bobby contemplated the man standing in front of him, he realised: their paths and their struggles might be similar, but they themselves were not the same people.
Buck looked vulnerable, he looked tired and weary – but he didn’t look defeated. He was stronger than Bobby had been. Stronger than Bobby had been able to give him credit for because he had been too consumed by fear and the recollections of his own mistakes.
“Buck, you saved two lives without the uniform,” Bobby pointed out, allowing himself to indulge his protective instincts one more time. He might have been wrong about what had happened with Buck’s injury today, but the last half hour that he’d spent thinking that Buck was self-harming made him hyper aware of what the kid’s words implied about his sense of self-worth. “It’s not a costume. It’s who you are.”
All of a sudden, he finally knew exactly the words he needed to say to Buck.
And it looked like Buck knew what was coming as well, the two of them on the same page for what felt like the first time in months.
“Does this mean that you’re ready to let me back for – for real?” Buck asked, his smile slightly cautious, although his eyes held a bright spark of hope and joy which proved he already knew what the answer was going to be.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m ready,” Bobby said candidly, not quite willing to outright admit that he wasn’t. “You are. It’s time for me to get out of your way.”
He couldn’t say that there wasn’t still a part of him that wanted to keep Buck safe and away from danger but he realised now that this was his burden to bear.
(Just like it was for every one of his firefighters, who he also wanted to keep safe, because he was their captain.
That’s what he told himself, even though the comparison his brain jumped to was the memory of the first time they’d allowed Robbie Junior and Brooke to walk to the corner store by themselves.)
However, that clarity was quickly followed by a wave of crushing shame, because how much pain could they all have been spared if he had managed to have these revelations earlier?
It might have turned out that Buck didn’t cut himself this time, but that didn’t mean that the actions Bobby had been replaying in his head in excruciating detail during the drive to the hospital weren’t still relevant and hadn’t caused harm.
Not wanting Buck to see just how shaken he was, he waited until he had turned around to leave to blow out a long breath. One step at a time: first he had to call Athena and let her know what was going on – now that he was calmer, he had a suspicion that she wasn’t going to be surprised).
“Hey Bobby,” Buck called, stopping him before he reached the door.
Bobby turned back around to see Buck meandering towards him, seemingly loose and relaxed except he could recognise the uncertainty that the kid was trying to mask once he got close enough.
“Are you hungry? Maybe I could buy you breakfast.”
It was an olive branch. He wasn’t sure if it was one he deserved but that definitely didn’t mean he was about to pass up the opportunity to take it.
They started walking towards the door together, Buck continuing even though they both already knew what the answer would be. “It would be nice to catch up.”
“Yeah. Yeah, it would.”
They ended up at a small hole-in-the-wall cafe that neither of them had ever heard of before. Buck said that the nurse who glued his cut had recommended it because it had an expansive courtyard hidden around the back.
Their conversation had become stilted again during the short drive over, but that tension seemed to mostly dissipate in the face of the light chatter around them and the streaming sunlight that covered the small table they were shown to.
When the waiter came over to take their orders, they fell back into what had become their usual song and dance when they got a meal together during those months of Buck’s recovery: Buck tried to claim he only needed something small and light and Bobby insisted he should get something more substantial.
It was so familiar that it almost felt like no wedge had ever been driven between them.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you barely ate anything at dinner last night, kid,” Bobby said, raising an eyebrow. “At least get the omelette – you love mushrooms and those don’t have any Vitamin K.”
“Fine,” Buck acquiesced with a fondly exasperated glare aimed at Bobby. “I’ll get the omelette with the mushrooms instead.”
The waiter cleared his throat, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress his amusement, and then repeated their order back at them.
Once he left with the promise that they would soon have their drinks, Buck cocked his head, folding his hands together as he asked, “You, uh – You looked up vegetables low in Vitamin K?”
“Seemed like it was important to be aware of,” Bobby replied matter-of-factly. He changed the subject, deciding it wasn’t quite the right time to reveal that he had distracted himself after that disastrous dinner by compiling a list of all the foods that Buck was meant to be avoiding or moderating while he was taking the blood thinners. There was a copy in both the firehouse kitchen and his own one, and he was also fairly certain that one would be appearing in Eddie’s kitchen soon enough since he had noticed Eddie taking a photo of the list near the end of their shift.
Their conversation stayed smooth enough while they stayed on surface-level topics. But as soon as Bobby tried to delicately steer them towards Buck’s tsunami recovery, it halted again.
“I’ll be fine if we get a call to the beach. You don’t have to worry about me, Cap,” Buck claimed, his jaw set as though daring Bobby to challenge him.
I don’t think I could ever stop, kid, was what Bobby wanted to say, but Buck’s reaction and the use of his title was a clear warning against pursuing the topic so he said “okay” and let the silence grow awkward until Buck asked about how May was recovering after her own tsunami ordeal.
They stuck with lighter topics after that, coming to a silent agreement to focus on people they both knew since it was neutral territory.
It wasn’t until they were nursing the last dregs of their second coffees, their empty plates already cleared away, when Buck decided to bring up the topic they had both been skating around.
“Hey, um, I did – I wanted to say thanks. For the second chance to come back to the 118, I mean,” Buck said. He held Bobby’s gaze, his expression determined, but the way he was twisting his coffee mug with one hand gave his nerves away.
Bobby nodded his head in acknowledgement, not really sure how to say that of course he wanted Buck back at the 118, that he had barely been able to fathom there being a choice at all. And after being forced to calculate how his actions might have contributed to a situation where Buck had been willing to hurt himself, it didn’t feel right to accept gratitude over everything that had happened.
“I should also say thank you,” he said instead.
Buck tilted his head in confusion.
“For staying,” he clarified, smiling lightly.
“Why wouldn’t I stay?” Buck asked slowly, brows furrowed like he was struggling to understand.
Bobby couldn’t quite manage to hold back the snort. “Well, kid, you did sue me,” he said wryly, keeping up the light smile in an attempt to mitigate any sting the words might have.
It was a wasted effort, since Buck immediately dropped his gaze to his coffee mug, drawing it closer towards him. “Right. Yeah. That,” he muttered, closing his fist around the mug’s handle.
“That,” Bobby agreed lightly, leaning his arms against the table and watching Buck carefully, cataloguing his reaction. He didn’t want to push too hard but at the same time now that he had the opportunity to go into a little more depth about it with Buck he didn’t necessarily want to lose it.
If there was one lesson that Bobby should have learnt through all of the mistakes he’d made over the years, it was that attempts to bury and ignore such things inevitably failed.
The silence was growing awkward yet again, but this time Bobby waited patiently through it, sure in the knowledge that Buck would be compelled to break it first.
It took a few minutes of solid silence for Buck to finally glance up at Bobby. His mouth was open but he seemed to realise that Bobby wasn’t going to let this topic go because he closed it, defeated.
He looked away again, this time focusing on an adorable black puppy who was lapping up the water at the dog station the cafe had set up.
“You were treating me differently,” he said eventually, shifting his gaze back towards Bobby. “I, um, well. It was stupid, I didn’t think it through – obviously – but I just… I guess –” Buck shook his head sharply, huffing, looking frustrated that he couldn’t give voice to the right words that would get across his point. “You lied to me. And I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It wasn’t the best decision you’ve ever made.” Bobby chose his words carefully, already able to see the impact they had on Buck from the way he dropped his head to stare into his coffee cup, but it did have to be said. In most other situations, in almost any other firehouse in the city, it would have entirely blown up his career even though the outcome of the lawsuit was officially successful. “But you were right. I was treating you differently.”
Buck’s eyes, wide and startled, snapped to meet his.
This time it was Bobby who had to resist the urge to avert his eyes. The admission was far more difficult to say than it should be – it was almost like there was another confession, a far more meaningful one, hidden beneath it and the desire to keep that one buried made him want to shut the conversation down.
But that would also count as letting things fester and just like he was getting Buck to talk through things, he had to do the same.
“Uh, why – why…” Buck trailed off, letting his hand gestures express the implied question.
“Because you aren’t like the others,” Bobby answered frankly.
Buck rolled his eyes. “What, because I’m younger?” he scoffed scornfully. He sat up straighter, clearly gearing up to have to fight to make his point again.
“No,” Bobby said firmly, wanting to cut that reaction off at the pass. “Or at least not fully.”
“What does that even mean?” Buck asked, nose scrunched in suspicious confusion.
“It means that you are young,” Bobby said, holding up a hand to stop Buck from jumping in to interrupt him, “and you remind me of when I was young. I was… worried that you would make the same mistakes that I made.”
Buck nodded, but he still looked puzzled, like it wasn’t all quite fitting together for him.
“I wanted to protect you from making those mistakes.” Bobby paused, but he refused to allow the situation that he thought had happened today to actually eventuate into reality one day and that meant making sure Buck knew that he had people in his life who would always support him. “I wanted to protect you from getting hurt again.”
The surprise that blanketed Buck’s face made something in Bobby’s chest ache.
“Then, uh, what made you change your mind? At the hospital, I mean? You seemed pretty set on keeping me benched when you sent me home from the shift and then a few hours later you said you needed to ‘get out of my way’. Buck leaned in towards Bobby, his curiosity winning out over his defensiveness.
Bobby scrutinised him, giving himself a moment to ponder over exactly what to say. There was some instinct that was urging him not to tell Buck the full truth about what he’d thought had happened when he’d received that call from the hospital. He couldn’t quite fully pinpoint what was driving it but he did know that he didn’t want Buck to think that the only reason he had changed his mind was because he thought that Buck would hurt himself otherwise.
Especially since it wasn’t even true.
“When I heard that you were injured, I realised that I couldn’t keep protecting you all the time. And hearing what happened… You and I are very similar but we aren’t the same. You’re strong enough that you won’t make those same mistakes that I made.”
Bobby leaned back, taking in the way that Buck’s cheeks were flushing in response to his words.
“Yeah, instead I make my own mistakes,” Buck mumbled after a long pause.
“The important thing is that we learn from our mistakes – for me, that means trusting what I know about you and bringing it up with you if I’m concerned,” Bobby said meaningfully, raising an eyebrow to indicate to Buck that he should add his own thoughts.
“I was desperate because I knew you were treating me differently and it felt so unfair and I really did think that the lawsuit was my only option,” Buck admitted.
Bobby wanted to repeat that it was all borne out of a desire to protect but it seemed redundant so he left it.
“I am so unbelievably sorry that I went through with it and it caused everyone so much grief,” Buck said, looking plaintive as he slouched back in his chair. “It wasn’t what I intended.”
“And I’m sorry that I lied to you about being held back and created a situation where you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about it,” Bobby added, staring at Buck intensely to make his point. “That also definitely wasn’t my intention – I want you to know that I want you to come to me if you need support.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” Buck said, shooting him a small grateful smile. “I think I, uh, I got worried that you all didn’t want me at the 118 anymore and, well…”
“You’re a fighter,” Bobby completed quietly, the shame infiltrating his chest again at the idea that Buck thought he wasn’t wanted. “We all wanted you back, Buck. We just wanted you to be whole, happy, and healthy.”
“That wasn’t going to happen without the 118,” Buck said firmly.
He didn’t say ‘ without my family’ but it was obvious that it was what Buck meant.
It was perhaps a concern how strongly Buck tied his position in their chosen family to his job. Bobby needed to be more conscious of that tendency and potentially start being more deliberate about helping Buck realise that just because their job kept them in constant proximity with each other it didn’t mean his place with them was contingent on the job.
“I’m sorry that you felt like the lawsuit was your only option to get that back.”
Buck sighed, his intensity melting into sheepishness. “At the end of the day, it’s still on me that I made that choice.”
Bobby nodded, once again struck by the contrast between them. The Bobby that had been so like Buck, so desperate to get back to work and be the hero and the provider again – that Bobby wouldn’t have owned his mistakes like that. It had taken far more devastating consequences than an ill thought-out lawsuit to bring him to that point.
“Well, it’s passed us now and we can all move on,” Bobby declared, draining the last mouthful of his coffee to punctuate the point.
“Amen to that,” Buck said, rubbing his hands together awkwardly like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. “Uh, do you mind asking the waiter for the bill when he comes by? I’m just going to run to the bathroom and then I’ll pay and we can go.”
“Sure,” Bobby agreed easily, watching Buck stand from the table and weave his way through towards the back entrance of the cafe.
That talk probably went as well as it could have, really. They had finally tackled the roller coaster of emotions they had all been through these last few months. It wasn’t a perfect resolution and they still needed to keep working on the issues that had built up but overall Bobby felt optimistic about it all.
It felt like the air between them was finally clear. And most importantly, Buck was physically and mentally safe – and their team would finally be back to normal again.
Bobby caught the waiter’s eye, holding up his wallet to signal for the bill to be brought over to the table. The waiter was quick to bring it over and Bobby was already pulling out his card when Buck returned from the bathroom.
“Hang on, I was meant to pay for breakfast,” Buck said indignantly, pulling out his own wallet and glaring at Bobby, who was wholly unaffected.
“Too late, kid.” He used his own card to wave at Buck to put his wallet away.
The waiter chuckled as he accepted the card that Bobby handed him. “Trust me on this one, man,” he said to Buck, handing the machine back to Bobby so he could authorise the transaction, “you wanna take advantage of your dad being willing to pay for as long as you possibly can.”
Bobby’s hands froze.
Buck spluttered.
Neither of them ended up saying anything.