Chapter Text
Buck spends the rest of the day in a haze.
After Eddie’s confession, Buck offers him a smile and a hug. He comforts his best friend, because at that moment he needs it more than Buck does, and goes on with his evening. He smiles at the guests at the impromptu Christmas party, he chats with Carla, he plays with Christopher and Denny.
He ignores the sad, confused looks Hen sends his way. He avoids Bobby, who keeps trying to talk to him with an understanding, pitying expression. He doesn’t want to talk about it. There is nothing to talk about. He pretends his heart hasn’t just been torn into pieces.
Then, when the food is finished and the kids are all grumpy from exhaustion and the crash after the sugar rush, he drives home. He drops Taylor at her place first, kissing her distractedly before driving off.
He does not remember how he gets home, or how long it takes. Once he walks in, he throws the keys on the counter and climbs upstairs. He takes his shoes off along the way, hearing them fall down the stairs. He doesn’t take his clothes off, just crawls into bed, hides his head under the covers, and stills.
He waits for the grief to hit. He has been holding on all day, keeping the tears at bay until he was alone. Now, alone in his loft, with the autopilot off, he waits for the waterworks, but he comes up blank.
He feels empty. He waits for any feeling to overwhelm him, anger, sadness, anything, but nothing comes.
He is numb.
The wave of hurt he has been expecting doesn't come. He stays under the covers, waiting.
He knows that there is something wrong. Buck, who gets emotional over videos of unlikely animal friendships and over heartfelt commercials, can't bring himself to shed a single tear at the prospect of his best friend leaving. Buck, whose abandonment issues could fill books upon books (and they have, just ask Dr. Copeland).
He’s aware he should do something, like take a shower, or clean up the loft, anything but lay there drowning in his thoughts and his inability to process them. But his arms feel so tired, and moving even an inch seems unfathomable.
The hours tick by, one after another, and he doesn’t move.
He might never move again.
Finally, without a warning, sleep takes over.
Buck wakes up the next morning after a restless sleep. His mouth is completely dry and his tongue feels like sandpaper. He feels hot all over, after sleeping all night in jeans and a sweater, and covered head to toe with the duvet. His thigh hurts where his phone is digging in, still in his pocket.
A feeling of dread settles in his chest, and he’s almost glad the numbness of the previous night is starting to recede. Almost. Because the knot in the pit of his stomach is a reminder of the events of the day before.
I’m leaving the 118.
A groan escapes Buck’s mouth. He turns around and kicks the duvet away. He stares at the ceiling, attempting every breathing exercise he remembers, but the pressure on his chest doesn’t let up.
Time passes while he counts his breaths. Buck doesn’t move. The only indication that the world is still turning is the repeated vibration of this phone in his pocket. People have been texting and calling him all morning. Last night too, Buck’s sure.
Finally, he gives in and fishes the phone out of his jeans. There are a few missed calls from Hen and Bobby, as well as texts from them and Taylor. A new text comes in. Buck’s breath hitches.
A text from Eddie.
He decides to ignore it for the moment and starts with the previous ones. Hen’s and Taylor’s are both asking if he is alright.
Is he alright? His first instinct is to tell them that he’s fine, but he has been working on that particular word with his therapist. He’s obviously not fine, but he doesn’t know how to unpack all that he’s feeling to his friends or his girlfriend, much less via text.
There’s also a text from Bobby telling him to take the day off if he needs to. Buck is writing back to explain that he doesn’t need the day off when another text from Eddie comes in.
He stills, then clicks on the notification before he finishes responding to Bobby.
From: Eddie
Can we talk?
Please
That last word is what does it. A sob rocks Buck’s shoulders and his eyes start to water. He drops his phone and sits up, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes to stops the tears from falling.
I’m leaving the 118.
The memory hits, and suddenly Buck tastes blood in his mouth, Eddie’s blood, and he’s back in the middle of the street, hearing a bang and losing his best friend all over again.
Buck sobs. The numbness is completely gone, and Buck misses it, because it has been replaced by intense grief and he can’t stop crying.
By the time he manages to stop, his head hurts so bad he feels he’s going to pass out. He grabs his phone to check the time and notices half the morning has gone by. He ignores Eddie’s text and answers Bobby’s instead, agreeing to take the next shift off.
He walks downstairs to get a glass of water and an Advil. Taking a big gulp, he resolves to stop thinking about Eddie for the day. No good can come from dwelling in his misery.
He lasts about ten minutes, so he calls Dr. Copeland for an emergency session. Talking to her helps organize his feelings. Once he hangs up, the tension headache is back, brought by the heavy amount of crying during the session. He lays down on the couch and tries to figure out what to do next.
Dr. Copeland has suggested talking to Eddie, to ask him about his reasons and the thought process through his decision, and to voice the fears rattling around in Buck’s mind.
“Yeah, right,” Buck whispers to his empty apartment.
He doesn’t feel like he can talk to Eddie right now, because he’ll immediately start crying and begging him not to leave. He doesn’t want to be too much, can’t be too much. Eddie has made his choice, and he hadn’t told Buck about it until it was made and already in motion. Maybe because he knew Buck would fight him about it, and he doesn’t want to deal with his whining and clinginess. If that is the case, Buck won’t subject him to that now.
The rest of the morning passes without an incident. People have either understood he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or Bobby has warned them to leave him alone. Probably the latter, seeing as his coworkers are not the type to leave it alone without a fight.
Taylor shows up in the evening, face shifting between annoyance and worry.
“Have you forgotten how to use your phone?” she asks, her voice changing into a softer tone when she sees Buck’s red eyes. She smiles at him, obviously trying to cheer him up. Another time Buck would have let her, allowed her to make light of the situation and tried harder to make himself cheery, but now he is having none of it.
“What are you doing here?” Buck asks. Then he warns, trying to sound as apologetic as possible, “I’m not gonna be good company today.”
“I was worried. You received some bad news yesterday, and you haven’t been answering your phone,” Taylor replies, frowning, worry written all over her face.
Buck walks back to the kitchen and collapses on a stool.
“Sorry,” he sighs. “I needed to clear my head.”
“And?” Taylor asks, walking to the coffee pot and pouring the leftover coffee in two mugs. “How is it going?”
Buck groans, burying his face in his hands. He hears the cling of a coffee mug being set in front of him and uncovers his face to offer Taylor a tense smile, cupping his hands around its warmth.
They both take a sip, sitting quietly in front of each other. Buck’s head has been reeling all day, unable to fully comprehend why this turn of events is affecting him this way.
“He can’t just leave like that, right? That’s insane,” he exclaims suddenly.
“People change careers all the time, Buck. Maybe he’s tired of being a firefighter,” Taylor rationalizes.
“Nah, Eddie loves his job. He was fine a few days ago. Something’s happened.”
“He got shot on the job. Of course that’s gonna change things.”
“He didn’t even talk to me about it,” Buck whispers. He’s starting to sound like a broken record in his mind.
“He’s a grown man,” Taylor replies. “It’s not like he needs to run everything by you.”
But he used to, Buck thinks.
Taylor settles her hand on Buck’s and offers him a sympathetic smile.
“It’s not like he’s going to stop being your friend just because you don’t work together. Hey, maybe this will be good for both of you. Maybe you can finally stop living in each other’s pockets.”
Buck stares at her, struck by sudden clarity. He knows she means well, that she’s trying to reassure him, but the thought of not being an integral part of Eddie’s life makes his heart constrict.
He is aware that that kind of dependency is not healthy, and that maybe some distance would do them both good, but he’s been away from Eddie once before, during the lawsuit, and it was miserable for both of them. He never wants to leave Eddie’s or Christopher’s side. He can’t imagine his life without them, with only their memory to keep him going.
He’s never felt that way with Taylor, and deep down, he knows he never will. She’s great, and he likes her so much, but he knows he wouldn’t be this lost if she left.
It’s not fair on her to string her along. Not now that he has realized it won’t last. Guilt sparks on him when he realizes that he had lied to her when he told her he loved her too. She loves him, and he has been trying to reciprocate her feelings, convincing himself that the affection he feels is actually love.
Only now does he become aware that it is not, because it doesn’t even begin to come close to what Eddie means to him.
He is in love with Eddie.
The realization crashes onto him. His knees feel like jelly, and he would have fallen down if he wasn’t already sitting down.
He has been aware of his crush on Eddie for a long time, but that is all he thought it was. How could he not like him? Eddie was a great friend, a wonderful father and a beautiful man. But that crush was going nowhere, so Buck had locked it down and focused on being his best friend. He has never regretted it—being Eddie’s friend is the best thing he had ever done.
Romantic love, however, changes things. Not necessarily with Eddie, as the man has made the decision to leave, but with Taylor. He can't continue with the relationship knowing what he knows now.
The conversation that follows is brutal. Taylor is confused and hurt, as expected, and Buck tries hard not to make it worse. At some point, she starts to cry. Buck’s stops himself before he can follow her lead, but his eyes remain misty the remaining of the conversation.
It’s not the big, over-the-top fight Buck thought it would be. There is no hurling of insults, no accusations or slamming of the door when she leaves. She is heartbroken and a little bit angry, but Buck wants to believe that, given some time, they could go back to being friends.
He knows he did the right thing, but he still feels like shit. Another person leaves his life. And yes, this time it has been his fault, but he can’t help but feel that every person he loves is slipping through his fingers. First it had been Maddie, and Chim had followed after, taking Jee with him. Now Eddie was leaving. It won’t be long until Hen leaves as well, as soon as she’s finished with Med School. Bobby and Athena are his only constants, and they are not getting any younger.
He has never had so much to lose, and he is losing it too fast. He had figured that he still had a few years left at least, if not forever. His family is fracturing, scattering away and leaving him behind. Had Red been right? Is he destined to end up alone, forgotten by the only people he considers his own?
He remembers how Red described it—at first you make the effort to see each other, hang out, but soon it turns into sparse emails and Christmas cards and one day you realize you haven't heard from each other in forever.
What if Maddie decided to never return? Chim would stay with her, that's for sure. What if Eddie found a job in another city and moved?
Would he ever see Christopher again?
He should have guessed it. Buck is always the one left behind. Buck is the one without a family, the one thing he has always wanted. Maybe he had wanted it too much, had been too desperate for it. He had latched onto the Diaz's and tried to make himself part of the family, but he had been kidding himself.
He feels uprooted, adrift and drowning in his own pity. The headache returns, along with a piercing heartache at losing the man he loves before he was aware of the extent of his feelings.
He checks the time to see if he can take some more ibuprofen and downs the tablets with a glass of water. Then he heads upstairs, with the intention of sleeping until his next shift.
Sleep comes intermittently, and by the time he walks into the firehouse, he is tired and cranky and not at all ready to deal with anyone.
He sees Ravi first, washing the fire truck as Buck comes in. Ravi sees him and smiles, lifting his hand in a wave. He opens his mouth, probably to wish him a good morning, but the look on Buck’s face stops him in his tracks. Ravi’s eyes widen and his hand falls to his side. He lowers his head and continues washing the truck without a word, shoulders tense.
Buck knows how tired and angry he must look. He also knows it’s not Ravi’s fault. He should go over there and say hi, smile at the man so he knows his rage is not directed at him. Instead, he barrels through the firehouse and into the locker room, stomping his feet like a child.
Luckily, there is no one in the locker room. The beginning of a shift is always the same, a practiced routine that allows him to turn off his brain as he gets ready for the day. He changes and climbs into the loft to pour himself some coffee.
Eddie is not at work yet. Buck feels relieved for the extra time to prepare himself, but a pit of anxiety clenches his stomach. He can’t have left already, can he? He only gave Bobby his notice four days ago.
The C shift seems to be avoiding him, only eyeing him in the distance, which suits Buck just fine. He sits at the table ad checks his phone. As usual, no messages from Maddie.
He walks to the railing, supping his coffee while watching the entrance downstairs. He sees the moment Eddie walks into the station, patting Ravi’s arm with a smile as he walks by. He looks up and catches Buck staring at him. Eddie’s eyes widen and he raises his hand and screams:
“Buck!”
Buck scrambles away from the railing, heart beating fast at Eddie’s attempt to catch his attention. He tries to flee the loft before his best friend catches up, but in the effort he spills half his coffee on the floor. Muttering a soft fuck, Buck tries to clean it up quickly with paper towels.
Of course, because the universe hates him, Eddie is there before he can make his escape, bag still in his hand and a frown on his face.
“Hey, Buck,” Eddie greets. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Buck replies, still looking at the floor. He throws the paper towels in the bin. “I have to—” he tries to excuse himself, pointing at the stairs, but Eddie cuts him off.
“You haven’t been answering your phone.”
“Yeah, my battery died,” Buck lies.
“And you took the day off without warning.”
“I was… busy,” he replies pathetically. Both of them can tell he is lying. Buck is a terrible liar.
Eddie doesn’t call him out on it.
“Can we talk?” He asks with a pleading look.
Eddie takes one step forward, extending his arm as if to grab Buck’s shoulder like he sometimes does. Buck immediately takes a step back, needing space between them so he won’t do something stupid like start crying. Eddie’s face falls.
“Actually, I have to go see Bobby. Raincheck?” Buck asks, already walking towards the captain’s office.
“Okay. Tonight?” Eddie’s voice sounds small, defeated.
“We’ll see,” Buck answers, knowing they won’t.
He all but runs to Bobby’s office, shutting the door loudly behind him. Bobby startles, looking up from his paperwork with a jump. As soon as he notices Buck’s stricken face, he gets up, eyes growing concerned.
“You need anything, Buck?” Bobby asks softly, signaling to the chair in front of his desk.
“Just… I wanted to thank you. For letting me take the day off the other day,” Buck explains, taking a seat. “I needed it.”
“Don’t worry. You deserved it. You haven’t taken a day off in a while.”
Since the shooting, he doesn’t say. Since his best friend was gunned down in front of him and he had to stay back to take care of Christopher. Funny how his worst moments this year all come down to the same thing.
“Well, thanks anyway,” he repeats.
Bobby looks him directly in the eye. Buck feels naked under his stare.
“Do you want to talk?” Bobby asks finally.
“I’m fine,” is Buck’s automatic response, and he curses himself internally. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re asking me. I’m not the one who’s leaving.”
“No, your partner is,” Bobby says. He gets up and walks up to Buck, leaning on the desk. He grasps Buck’s shoulder and squeezes. “You two have been attached at the hip ever since he started working here. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling with the idea of him leaving.”
Buck sighs.
“He said we were stuck together. Why would he just leave?” Buck feels his eyes start to sting, tears making Bobby’s face blurry.
“Look, it’s not my place to explain his reasons. I think you should ask him. All I can say is that it wasn’t an easy decision for him.”
“Easy enough to figure it out on his own,” Buck contradicts. “He didn’t talk to anyone about it.” Not even me.
He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, tired of crying. There is something about Bobby’s concerned look that makes him feel unusually vulnerable, makes him want to spill all his secrets. He wants the man’s comfort, his support, but he is afraid that if he starts he won’t be able to finish his shift.
“Not that he has to. Obviously,” he backtracks. His breakdown can wait another twenty-four hours.
Bobby flashes him a tight smile.
“Still. You should talk to him. But I really don’t think this means as much as you think. Wherever he finds work next, it doesn’t change what you are to each other.”
Bobby is hitting too close to home, he knows too much, he can read Buck too well. He needs to get out of here.
“And if you need to talk to someone else—”
Buck cuts him off before he can finish, standing up in a hurry. “I called Dr. Copeland the other day. I’ll be fine.” Again with that word. He is lying through his teeth today.
He doesn’t mention that his therapist also recommended talking to Eddie about this whole thing. It’s not happening. Not yet anyway.
He flees Bobby’s office, relieved to see Eddie is not waiting for him outside the door. He finds him in the kitchen with Hen, having a hushed conversation that stops abruptly when Buck comes in.
“Buckaroo,” Hen greets. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he answers once again.
Eddie presses a mug full of coffee into his hands.
“You spilled the other one,” he explains simply.
Buck mutters a quiet thanks, taking a sip and letting the warmth fill his chest. Hen is looking at him with narrowed eyes. She opens her mouth, no doubt to ask him if he is okay again, and he might scream.
Luckily, he is saved by the alarm. The day goes by swiftly, with a stream of calls that seem to never end. Any other time Buck would groan and complain along with his coworkers, but today he is grateful. The onslaught of calls keeps him occupied, distracting him from the darker thoughts that plague him and preventing Eddie from finding time to get Buck alone.
When the shift ends he is exhausted. He can feel the tension that has built up on his shoulders, and all he wants to do is take a long, hot shower and wash away the last 24 hours.
Instead, he takes the fastest shower of his life and rushes out of the firehouse before Eddie can catch up to him.
The next few shifts go by in a similar fashion. Buck goes to work. He talks to his coworkers, never letting conversations go any deeper than shallow small talk, no matter how hard they try. When the shifts are over, he hurries to his empty apartment, always alone.
During the days between shifts he doesn’t answer his phone. Eventually, the calls and texts peter out.
Eddie tries to talk to him a few times, invites him over to hang out, but after many refusals, excuses and uncomfortable stuttering, he leaves Buck alone. Instead of feeling relieved, Buck cries himself to sleep after the first shift in which Eddie doesn’t approach him. His best friend keeps his distance, his sad eyes following Buck every step he takes.
Buck needs to get used to it. Once Eddie leaves the 118, he won’t have an excuse to talk to him every hour of every day, to touch his shoulder and lean on him, to show up at the Diaz’s house to cook dinner for the three of them.
Everyone treats him like he's going through a breakup, the same way they did the first few weeks after Abby left. It's all gentle eyes and shoulder pats and awkward glances whenever Eddie is in the vicinity. He hasn't even told them about the actual breakup with Taylor yet, and he resolves not to tell them for the time. He doesn't want to add to the pity.
A new guy comes in, a tall, slender man with a kind smile that will replace Eddie when he’s gone, at least until Chimney comes back. He’s shadowing Eddie and Hen, smiling excitedly at everyone he crosses paths with, absorbing every word that comes out of Eddie’s and Hen’s mouths.
His name is Darryl, Buck learns, and he had been a paramedic for a year in Indianapolis before relocating to LA. That’s all he learns. It’s all he wants to know.
He barely talks to him. He feels terrible about it, but he can’t bring himself to get close to another person. So Buck tries to be professional, smiling at him, helping him out, answering his questions about the job. But he doesn’t find out why he moved to LA, or if he has a significant other, a child or a sick parent. That is none of his business, and he will do all he can to keep it that way.
All he has left is his job, which he loves, but even that feels empty now. The only way he can survive it is by not getting attached.
He’s not getting his heart broken again.
Buck builds high walls around his cracked heart.
Nobody else is getting in.
Eddie finally makes himself heard the shift before his last.
It is the end of the shift, and Buck is once again hurrying out of the firehouse. He has already declined Hen’s invitation for drinks and Bobby’s reminder of Sunday lunch. He almost crashes into Eddie in his rush.
“Buck,” Eddie calls with a serious tone.
"Eddie!" Buck yells, feigning cheerfulness. "How are you, man?" He tries to sidestep him, but Eddie moves with him, effectively cutting his way.
"You think we can talk now?"
"Now?" Buck repeats, his voice an octave higher. "Now is a really bad time, actually. I have a ton of laundry to do, and I need to go to buy groceries, and-"
"Now, Buck," Eddie cuts him off, exasperated. "It's important."
"Maybe another day. There's nothing to talk about, anyway," Buck continues, losing his cool with every word.
"Please," Eddie whispers, his sadness evident on his face.
And Buck wants to jump him, actually. He wants to wrap himself around Eddie like an octopus, bury his head in his neck and kiss the spot right below his jaw. He wants to fall on his knees and hug his waist, sink his face on Eddie's stomach and beg for forgiveness.
He will not survive this conversation.
"I can't," Buck says at the same volume, and he watches Eddie's face break.
He uses that moment to sidestep Eddie and get closer to his car, already preparing himself for another night of ugly crying and intermittent sleep.
"Chris misses you."
That stops Buck in his tracks. He stays still, hand on his jeep's door. He doesn't turn around.
"He has been asking after you," Eddie continues, knowing he has caught Buck's attention. "He made me promise I would bring you over for dinner."
Well played. Buck can't deny that boy anything. Chris is his kryptonite. He'd rather subject himself to hours of painful, heartbreaking conversation than disappoint the kid.
Finally, he turns.
"Low blow," he accuses.
Eddie only raises his eyebrows, waiting.
"I'll follow you in my car," Buck concedes.
Eddie's face fills with relief, and he offers Buck a small but impossibly beautiful smile. Buck almost regrets not agreeing sooner.
They get into their cars, Eddie more eagerly than Buck. Eddie moves out of the firehouse parking lot first, checking his rearview mirror every few seconds to make sure Buck is following behind.
A fast-paced pop song plays on the radio. Buck turns it off, not in the mood for happy love songs. His mind jumps into all possible scenarios for tonight. He tries to come up with an explanation as to why he has been ignoring Eddie, or an argument as to why leaving the 118 is a bad idea, but his mind goes blank.
Eddie looked worried and stressed when he asked Buck over. Buck hopes that it means that Eddie was trying to reassure Buck, to assure him that he was still welcome at Eddie's home.
Either way, Red's warnings are vividly clear in Buck's memory. No matter what Eddie believes now, time always creates distance. It is easy to maintain a close friendship when you see each other every day; harder, when your work schedules don't match and one of you has additional responsibilities, like taking care of a child. And all that assuming you still live in the same city.
If Eddie finds a job in a new city, would he mind Buck following him? He could transfer to a firehouse nearby. Bobby would approve the transfer, he would understand. Even if Eddie is not a firefighter anymore, Buck could still spend time with them, picking Chris up on his days off, or coming over on the weekends.
Suddenly a world of opportunities opens up. Christopher loves Buck. He would never want Buck to be so far away he cannot visit. And Eddie would do anything to make Chris happy.
Maybe there's still a chance he gets to keep them.
Eddie is driving like a madman, exceeding the speed limit and driving through crosswalks when the light is still yellow. Buck tries to keep up.
They are close to Eddie's house when Buck’s thoughts take a darker turn. What if Eddie’s look before wasn’t worry for Buck, but exasperation? It’s not like the distance between them has started two weeks ago. No, they have been drifting apart for a long time now, ever since the shooting and Eddie’s confession about the will.
Buck has been having trouble dealing with the idea of a world without Eddie, a world in which he has to tell Christopher that his father is not coming home again. As much as he loves Chris and sometimes wishes he was his, he can’t reconcile that with the fact that he only gets to do it if Eddie is dead. It feels selfish, to want Chris like that, so Buck has been trying to maintain some distance.
As for Eddie, well, Eddie has been refusing to talk to Buck for a long time, to discuss anything real. He has been trying to deal with everything himself, first the shooting, then the panic attacks. Buck had tried, at first, but it was obvious that Eddie did not want to talk about it, with Buck or with any other person. That had only increased the divide between them.
But Buck had not expected it to last forever. Sure, they weren’t the closest at the moment, but it happens sometimes, even with best friends, right? At some point, they would talk it out and leave it behind, and they would go back to being Buck and Eddie.
What if this was the end of the line? What if whatever had happened between them couldn’t be solved, and this was it?
Tears are threatening to fall by the time Buck parks next to Eddie. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. If this is the last time he gets to see Chris, he will make the best of it. He won't let the young boy see him break down.
Eddie is waiting for him at the front door, keys in hand and looking at Buck as if he is expecting him to back out and drive away. He only opens the door once Buck gets out of his jeep, and calls his son’s name.
“Daaad!” Buck hears coming from inside, followed by the sound of crutches approaching. A pair of arms envelop Eddie’s middle, and the man leans down to hug Chris back. “Did you do it?” Chris asks, muffled by Eddie’s shirt.
“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Eddie asks back, straightening back up and leaning to the side so Chris can see Buck at the door.
The moment Christopher’s and Buck’s eyes meet a wide smile covers the younger boy’s entire face. Not a trick Eddie was pulling, then. Chris really had asked him to bring Buck over.
“Buck!” He yells, pushing Eddie aside with a crutch and moving closer to his target.
Buck closes the distance and falls to his knees, enveloping Chris in a tight hug. Over the kid’s shoulder, he sees Eddie smiling softly at them. Carla is behind him, purse in hand.
“Hey, Superman,” Buck greets, leaning back to look at Chris. “Your dad says you were asking for me.”
“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” Chris explains. “Dad’s been ordering takeout a lot,” he whispers conspiratorially, loud enough for Eddie to hear.
“Hey!” His father calls out indignantly. Chris giggles.
Buck smiles back, lowering his voice to the same volume. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll make us some Mac and Cheese tonight.”
“Chris, come say goodbye to Carla,” Eddie orders.
Chris steps away from Buck, still giggling, and into Carla’s waiting arms. Buck stands up.
“You don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, his hand on Buck’s elbow. “I can cook something, or we can have leftovers. I didn’t ask you here to cook for us.”
“I don’t mind,” Buck insists. “Let’s try to avoid food poisoning tonight, okay?” He teases with a smile.
Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a smile. It’s easy to revert back to the easy banter and teasing remarks. This is known territory for them, a place they have grown comfortable and familiar with after years of friendship.
They smile at each other. Eddie’s hand is warm in Buck’s elbow, and the ice between them thaws. Suddenly, Buck can’t remember why he was so worried.
A moment later, Carla appears in front of them. She kisses each of their cheeks goodbye.
“I’ll let you boys talk,” she says. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Carla,” Eddie says sincerely.
“Nice to see you, Buckaroo,” she tells Buck and pinches his cheek.
“You too,” Buck answers, and with that, she is gone.
“Okay, young man,” Eddie exclaims, turning towards his son, “have you finished your homework?”
Chris’ groan is answer enough. “But Buck is here!”
“You know how it works. Homework first, then you can play with Buck.”
“Here’s a deal,” Buck starts. It immediately catches Christopher’s attention. "You finish your homework while I prepare dinner, and we will read two chapters of your book before bed.”
“Okay!” Chris yells already rushing towards his room.
“A miracle worker,” Eddie mutters, so softly Buck is not sure he heard it right. They walk into the kitchen, and Eddie turns towards him. “Beer?” He asks.
"Yeah, thanks," Buck agrees.
Buck has given a lot of thought to how he will face this conversation with Eddie. He had expected it to be awkward and uncomfortable from the get-go. Buck had resolved to be quiet and aloof, to hide how much this situation was affecting him.
Screw it. Change of plans.
He is not leaving without a fight. Buck will be the kindest goddamn gentleman of all time. Good luck to Eddie trying to kick him out in s huff. Buck will be a fucking delight.
"Here." Eddie passes him an opened beer bottle.
"Thanks!" Buck says, smiling widely. Eddie cocks his eyebrow at him, surprised by his cheerful tone.
Buck takes a sip, waiting for Eddie to start talking. When he lowers the bottle, Eddie is looking down, eyes laser-focused on the beer in his hand. His nails pick at the label of his bottle, slowly peeling its sides. A focused frown has appeared on his face.
Okay, not working. Another change of plans. Buck is not above begging.
"Don’t leave the 118,” he asks before he can stop himself.
Eddie’s head snaps up, his eyes widening. The mood suddenly changes, the air around the kitchen cold and full of tension. Seconds pass, both men staring at each other. Buck has caught them both by surprise, and so they remain frozen, eyes wide. Eddie is the first to regain his voice.
“Buck.” He sounds raspy, as if every word out of his mouth takes immeasurable effort. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just—don’t leave,” Buck pleads again. He is begging, which he promised he wouldn’t do, but a dam has opened and he can’t stop himself.
“I can’t,” Eddie insist softly, full of emotion.
“Why not?” Buck asks. “You love your job, I don’t understand why you’d leave it. Maybe you can take a leave of absence—“
“I’m not doing it for me, remember?”
That stops Buck in his tracks. Because yes, Eddie mentioned how Christopher was worried about him, but Buck has been thinking that there might be something else too.
But Eddie looks devastated as he says it, his brown eyes are earnest and resigned. Buck can see it now—he is grieving the loss of his job as much as Buck has been grieving the loss of his best friend. Buck’s heart breaks a little bit.
“Oh,” Buck utters in shock. He waits for Eddie to elaborate.
“Remember how I told you that Chris has been acting up lately?” Buck nods. “Well, I tried talking to him and—“
Eddie gulps, words stuck in his throat. His eyes drop to the floor again, worrying at his lower lip. Buck gives in to the urge to touch Eddie, just a little bit, to comfort him in any way he can. He places his beer bottle on the counter, then takes Eddie’s from his hands and places it next to his. Finally, he grabs Eddie’s hands in his and squeezes tight.
Eddie flashes him a tired, sad smile and squeezes back.
And, damn, all Buck wants to do is gather Eddie in his arm, pull him in against his chest and kiss his forehead. But he’s scared it might be too much. He doesn’t know where he stands with Eddie anymore, after these last few weeks of silence and his newfound knowledge of his feelings for the man. Instead, he holds his hands and squeezes back, waiting for him to explain.
“He’s waiting for the day I die,” Eddie explains, voice breaking at the last word. “He doesn’t expect me to survive the next year.”
Buck’s heart stops for an instant. Whatever he thought was the matter with Christopher—pre-teen angst, a bad week at school, trauma over his mother’s death—worry over his father’s life hadn’t ever occurred to Buck.
Although, it shouldn’t be that surprising, come to think of it. Christopher has had a front row seat to the shitshow that has been Eddie’s last year, and to how badly Eddie has been dealing with his issues. He might try to bottle everything up, pretend that nothing phases him, but surely some things slip through the cracks when he’s at home, especially after a bad shift.
Christopher was there too when Eddie had his first panic attack. He might not have witnessed the shooting, but he had certainly seen Buck completely break down afterward. So, not a surprise that he’s scared his father will not come home.
“He is ten years old. He already lost his mother. He shouldn’t be wondering if he’ll ever see me again every time I walk out the door,” Eddie continues, eyes brimming with tears. “So it doesn’t matter if I love my job. I can’t keep doing this to him.”
And that’s just it, isn’t it? Chris always comes first, no matter what. There is nothing more to it. Buck can’t blame Eddie for any of this. If put in the same position, he would have done the same.
Eddie has been put in an impossible situation and has made the only rational choice he has come up with—no matter how wrong Buck thinks it is.
A wave of guilt washes over Buck. All this time he has been taking pity on himself, thinking about how this situation affects him, but he hasn’t considered how affected Eddie has been. This past few months he has let the distance between them widen, and as a result, he has not noticed how much Chris and Eddie needed his help. Eddie, who has just left the job he loves and the people he considers his family for love for his son, for the fear of the pain he might be causing him. Eddie, who must be feeling completely alone right now.
Buck is about to get up and hug him when Eddie removes his hands from Buck’s and wipes his eyes before any tears fall. He stands up, looking anywhere but Buck, blinking to dry his eyes.
“Anyway,” he says louder, mask of indifference back on.
“Anyway,” Buck repeats, uncertain.
“It’s for the best,” Eddie assures, although his voice cracks a little at the last word. “This way I’ll have more time for Christopher. I can take him to school every day, and pick him up. Maybe Abuela will finally be able to teach me how to cook.” He says the words like it’s a mantra, like if he repeats them enough, he will convince himself.
“Eddie,” Buck calls seriously, not letting him make light of the situation. “You know you can come to me, right? About anything. If you want to talk, or if you need any help with Chris…”
Finally, Eddie stops trying to look busy around the kitchen and looks at Buck. “I know,” he says, nodding. The moment stretches between them, until suddenly Eddie grins at him, although the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Right now, I need you to help with dinner.”
Buck is not satisfied with the end of the conversation. He wants to push Eddie further, break down what he’s feeling and help him find another way through. He is about to open his mouth when a new thought comes to him.
Eddie left his job because it was dangerous, because Chris was worried about him and Eddie didn't want to hurt him anymore. Even if Chris loves Buck, Buck is still working that same dangerous job. Eddie might want to cut him loose, ask him to stay away from Christopher from now on.
It makes sense, Buck thinks dejectedly. Christopher might be sad or angry now, but it will go away. Time heals everything, and he is still a kid. A clean break now would be better than the future grief if anything were to happen to Buck.
Is this Eddie allowing Buck to say goodbye?
Tears are threatening to fall from Buck's eyes, but he pushes them down and allows Eddie to change the subject. He takes out the pots and ingredients while Eddie chats inanely about a project Chris is doing for school. They prepare dinner side by side, Buck offering instructions and Eddie rolling his eyes as if he hadn’t burnt the cheese last time he tried to make Mac and Cheese.
They are almost finished when Christopher barrels into the kitchen, announcing that he has finished his homework. Buck sends father and son to set the table while he finishes.
The rest of the night is not unlike any other night at the Diaz household. Chris and Buck maintain a stream of conversation all through dinner. They play videogames on the couch, Chris sandwiched between Buck and Eddie.
During bedtime, Eddie leaves to clean the kitchen while Buck starts to read Chris’ book from where the bookmark is. He is about to start a second chapter when Chris’ tiny hand takes hold of Buck’s. He stops in his tracks and lowers the book.
Christopher is looking at him with guilt written all over his face. Buck panics.
“You okay, buddy?” He asks.
“Do you think dad looked happy today?” Chris asks in a whisper.
“Of course he did,” Buck assures, shocked. “He always looks happy when you are around.”
“Not always,” Chris counters, voice even lower. He looks down at his hands. “I think I made him sad at Christmas.”
Buck’s heart breaks, because of course Chris has noticed something’s wrong with Eddie and tracked it back to their fight.
“No, Chris.” Buck lets go of the book in his hand and wraps the kid in a hug. “You have done nothing wrong, you hear me? Your dad loves you so much. He is just worried for you, because he doesn’t want you to feel scared,” he tries to explain, but how do you lay out this situation for a 10-year-old when not even Buck really understands it? “But he is doing all he can to make it better, okay?”
"He said he is not a firefighter anymore," Chris says.
"That's right." Buck smiles at him, ignoring the stabbing pain those words cause him. "He will not be in danger anymore. So he will always come home to you."
Christopher nods slowly, clearly soaking up Buck's words. His eyes fall to the bedsheets between his hands.
His voice is merely a whisper when he talks, so low Buck has trouble hearing him.
"Mom wasn't a firefighter and she still died."
Chris raises his head to look at Buck. There is a frown on his face, so similar to Eddie's it makes pain flare in Buck's chest. Chris looks so drained, has already endured grief beyond his years, and all Buck wants to do is envelop this kid he loves like a son in a hug and never let him go.
"Nancy's dad had a heart attack and died. He was a dentist."
Fuck, Buck is not equipped for this. Christopher has obviously had time to stew and question his dad's decision, and Buck can't ever counter with anything because he agrees with him.
He mulls on what Eddie would say and comes up with the one thing he knows for certain.
“Look, you know that nobody knows what’s going to happen in the future, but if one thing is certain, it’s that your father loves you more than anything. That means that he will fight as hard as he can to always come back home to you. Quitting firefighting just means that he won’t get into so much trouble anymore,” he pushes through the last sentence with a smile. There’s always a smile left for Chris.
The kid nods slowly, processing Buck’s words. It feels like that is the end of the conversation, thankfully, so Buck opens the book back where they left off, but Chris is not finished.
“What about you?” He asks.
“What about me?” Buck repeats, voice an octave higher.
He panics. Is Chris asking him to quit too? He doesn’t know who he is without his job, without the one thing that gives him purpose. He recalls the weeks after the leg injury and the embolism, how lost and panicked he felt, the loneliness and uncertainty that gave way to rash decisions that almost cost him his family.
He can’t go through that again. Also, he doesn’t even know if he’ll get to see Chris again after tonight. But, maybe–
“You are not going to be there to save him,” Chris explains, cutting Buck’s train of thought. “When he got shot, you saved him and took him to the hospital. And you saved me during the tsunami too. Who’s gonna save him now if you are not with him?”
Chris’ eyes are misty, full of confusion and a little bit of anger. He doesn’t want Buck to quit. He wants to save his father, the only way he knows how—by putting him right next to Buck, a man he sees as a hero and a savior. He wants Buck to keep an eye on him, and fuck if that’s not what Buck wants too.
Buck rearranges, sitting against the headboard so he can wrap his arm around Christopher's shoulders.
"Remember before the tsunami, how I hurt my leg?" Chris nods. "After that, I was sad and sleepy all the time. And then you would come over, and I wouldn't feel sad anymore. We'd go to the zoo, and play video games, and bake cookies, and it made me so, so happy.
"You saved me, kid," he confesses.
They remain quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in.
"That's how I know that your dad will be fine. Because he has you." Buck knocks his head against Chris' lightly. "His own personal Superman."
Chris lifts his head. His eyes are glistening, but no tears come out as he gifts Buck a tiny smile. It's moments like this when Buck could swear that making this kid smile, even a small one, is his life's ultimate purpose.
"And if you need a little extra help," he continues, making his voice lighter to ease the tension of the conversation, "you can always call me, or 911, and I'll come running."
Christopher's smile widens, and with that, the hardest part of the conversation is over. The boy leans his head on Buck's shoulder and lets out a sigh of contentment.
"I know," he confirms.
Buck squeezes Chris' arm reassuringly.
"But you'll still come over like normal too, right? This is only the first in the series," Chris asks, tapping the book on Buck's lap twice.
And damn it, he might have lost his work partner, but he is not about to lose this kid too. To hell with Eddie, he will camp out in their front lawn if he has to.
"Of course. Somebody has to teach you Diazes how to play video games."
Chris shouts an indignant, "no!" at the same time that a voice calls from the door, "I resent that."
Chris and Buck turn in unison to see Eddie leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smile adorning his face.
"We both know Christopher can beat you in his sleep."
"Exactly!" His son screams, coming out of his stupor and knocking his shoulder against Buck's.
"How long have you been here?" Buck asks, still frozen, wondering how much Eddie heard.
"Enough to know you need a lesson in humility," Eddie jokes, oblivious to his best friend's internal panic. "Are you finished?"
"We still have one chapter left," Buck answers. At the same time, Chris lets out a yawn. "But maybe we should leave it for another day, buddy."
"Okay," he agrees, a testament to how tired he is. "Tomorrow?"
"Buck may have other plans, Chris," Eddie says, sounding slightly disappointed. "But I'm sure next week-"
"Tomorrow's fine," Buck assures quickly. "You rest now, and tomorrow we will read you two chapters."
"Okay," Chris agrees, already laying down and covering himself with the duvet.
They say goodnight, Eddie kissing his son's head reverently, and leave the room. As soon as the door is closed, Eddie turns back to Buck.
"You don't have to come tomorrow, really. It's short notice, and if you already have plans with Taylor-"
"We broke up," Buck reveals.
That shuts Eddie up. He stares at Buck, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
"Wha—When?"
"Couple of weeks ago."
Buck can hear Eddie's gears turning, making the math to the day of the breakup.
"Oh," he says finally.
"Yeah, it was—We wanted different things," he continues awkwardly. "Or, we were in a different place, emotionally. She said she loved me, and I said it back, but then..." He looks around, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I don't think I meant it the way she did. It never felt right the way it did with Abby, or-"
Or here with you and Chris, he doesn't say. He hopes Eddie won't ask further questions. Now it's not the time to explain to his best friend how he realized he is in love with him. He is still reeling from his conversation with Christopher, and not at all ready for the even harder conversation that awaits with Eddie. He can't throw unrequited love in the mix on top of all that.
“Once I realized it, I couldn’t wait around for some feelings that might never come, so we broke up,” he finishes.
He walks directly to the living room and drops on the couch. Eddie sits next to him, looking at him with worry.
“Are you okay?” He asks finally.
“I’m okay,” Buck confirms with a tight smile.
There is still worry in Eddie’s eyes, but underneath it sparks a hint of relief. Buck is aware that Eddie doesn’t like Taylor, both of them clashing with each other since the moment they met. Buck worries that his relationship has been partially to blame for the way things have been between them since the shooting, that maybe he had let their friendship suffer in favor of spending time with his girlfriend.
Deep down, he knows that he had been avoiding Eddie just as much as Eddie had been avoiding him, and Taylor had not been the reason at all.
They have been dancing around each other for way too long, Buck has always prided himself in being a man of action, someone who approaches problems head-on. This is no different. He has been trying to find a subtle way to broach the subject, but maybe there is only one way.
“I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want me to come around anymore,” he says.
Eddie’s eyes get comically wide, shoulders tensing until they almost reach his ears. He looks ready to fight someone, or something, but Buck has no idea what.
“What?” Eddie whisper-yells, mindful of the child sleeping next door. “Why would you think that?” He sounds panicky, which reassures Buck that that hadn’t been Eddie’s intention at all.
“I don’t know, it’s like you said.” Buck gestures towards the kitchen, so as to indicate their earlier conversation there. “You are leaving a dangerous world behind. I thought I might be part of it.”
“Buck, no,” Eddie says passionately, grabbing Buck’s knee. “That is not what I meant.”
"Okay, but if that’s—If it’s something you need, for you, or for Chris—I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause any problems for either of you. I’ll stay away, no matter how much I hate it.”
Eddie is already shaking his head, eyes bright and horrified. His grip on Buck’s knee tightens with every word. Buck notices his own eyes are itchy, and he blinks rapidly to prevent the tears from falling.
“No, God, Buck—Don’t,” he insists. “I don’t want you to leave. Quitting my job doesn’t change that—You are family, Buck.”
Eddie looks so scared, so devastated by the idea, that Buck can’t even remember why he doubted him. He sighs, leaning back on the couch, ignoring how his fingers twitch with the need to hold Eddie’s hand. Instead, he stares at the ceiling and nods.
“I—I don’t know what I’m doing,” Eddie admits. Buck looks back down to see his eyes full of tears. “I don't know what I’m gonna do now. I am so lost.” Two fat tears fall from his eyes, but it’s like Eddie doesn’t notice. He’s finally talking, after weeks of ignoring his feelings, and he can’t stop. “I am failing that kid again and I don’t know how to fix it. But the one thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t understand why you’d leave the 118 at all,” Buck says.
Eddie sighs. “Buck…”
“No, I get what you said before, about Chris, but did you even talk to him before making his decision?”
“It was obvious what I had—” Eddie answers, but Buck cuts him off.
“I don’t think it’s that obvious. There is more to it than you think. I don’t think he’s just worried you’ll get hurt on a call.” Eddie is shaking his head slightly, but his eyes reveal his uncertainty. “Chris is going through something, and I don’t think you quitting is going to fix anything. It’s just going to make you both miserable.”
“What do you want me to do?” Eddie asks, voice shaking, heavy with emotion. “I know it won’t magically fix everything, but I have to try. What else am I supposed to do? I am out of ideas, Buck.”
He lets out a shaky breath and buries his head in his hands.
“I don’t know,” Buck mutters, wiping his cheeks. “At least, talk to him. Figure out what he’s thinking.”
After a minute, Eddie turns to him, eyes glassy and unfocused, and nods.
“Okay,” he whispers. “I’ll talk to him.”
Eddie’s hands are shaking. He makes them into fists, knuckles white with the effort to stop the trembling, but it’s not doing much.
Buck knows this type of agitation, this loss of control of one’s body. He remembers Taylor touching his blood-covered hands, outside the hospital, trying and failing to soothe Buck’s panic. He remembers looking at the specks of blood—Eddie’s blood, his mind supplies—, opening and closing his hands to stop the shaking, to no avail.
He also knows how hard it is for Eddie to lose control and allow others to see him like this. And still, Eddie is not telling him to leave, he is not pushing him away. He might not be asking for comfort in so many words, but letting Buck see him without his walls up is basically the same. So Buck does what Eddie cannot; he reaches out and takes Eddie’s hands in his.
Neither say a word. They stay there, sitting on the couch, Buck drawing circles in the back of Eddie’s hands until they stop trembling. Only then does Eddie speak.
“Sorry for all this,” he says hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have unloaded on you like that.” He sniffs and tries to take his hands out of Buck’s, but Buck only holds tighter.
“Don’t apologize for this,” he insists passionately. “I’m right where I wanna be. You don’t have to do this alone.”
A single tear escapes Eddie’s eyes and Buck can’t handle it anymore. He crosses the distance between them and envelops Eddie in a hug as tenderly as he can, one hand on his shoulder and one buried in his brown hair. Eddie drops his head to Buck’s chest, letting out a long sigh that soon turns into a sob, and suddenly he lets go. His hands grip Buck’s sleeve as sobs rock his body.
Buck draws circles on Eddie’s scalp and mutters words of reassurance in his ear. Without thinking, he drops a kiss to Eddie’s head and rests his cheek there. He panics for a second, wondering if he’s overstepped, but then Eddie buries his head deeper into Buck’s chest. Buck sighs, closes his eyes, and kisses Eddie’s head once again.
It’s a while before Eddie’s sobs quieten and he stills. Buck squeezes his shoulder and pushes lightly. Eddie releases his hold on Buck, drawing back so they can look at each other. They are inches apart, faces closer than they have ever been. In another moment, Buck might have turned red and started fumbling, but now he keeps his eyes on Eddie’s.
“Lean on me all you need,” he offers. “Burden me with this. I want to be here.”
Eddie closes his eyes. The tension leaves his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he croaks, voice rough from crying.
In a sudden burst of bravery and swept up in the bubble of trust and intimacy they have built, Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s. Eddie lets out a gasp but doesn’t step back or open his eyes immediately. When he finally does, they are red and puffy, and so, so tender. He’s looking at Buck like he hung the moon, eyes flitting quickly to his lips before focusing back on his eyes, and Buck knows that look. He’s seen it before, in Abby, and Taylor, and in a few one night stands from his Buck 1.0 phase. It’s an offer, a wish, an invitation, one that Buck can do nothing but accept.
Their lips meet like magnets. It’s a soft kiss, barely a press of lips, but it feels like coming home. The kiss is a little wet and salty from the tears on Eddie’s face, and it lasts only a few seconds. There is a hint of a smile on Eddie’s face when they part. Buck would kiss him a million more times to keep that smile there.
Suddenly, Eddie lets out a laugh. “You know, when I imagined this moment, I never pictured you covered in my snot and tears.”
“You’ve imagined this?” Buck asks flirtatiously.
Another wet laugh escapes Eddie. Buck raises his hands to the sides of Eddie’s head, wiping his undereyes with calloused thumbs. Eddie’s hands fly to Buck’s wrist, keeping him in place. As if Buck’s going anywhere.
“Many times,” Eddie answers softly.
Buck is overcome with happiness. He drops a kiss on Eddie’s lips, then kisses his forehead, and pulls him to his chest. They sigh in unison, wrapping their arms around each other and sagging in each other’s chests. They stay like that for a long time, basking in the moment. Finally, Eddie draws away. To his own horror and Eddie’s amusement, Buck lets out a groan at the loss of contact.
“Water,” Eddie explains with a teasing smile, dehydrated from all the crying.
He fills up a glass and drowns it in one go, then fills up another. By the time he turns around, Buck is already there, ibuprofen tablets in hand for Eddie’s inevitable headache.
"Here."
Eddie arches a brow at him. "Look, it was a nice kiss, but I don't think I will develop a fever from it," he says teasingly, but takes the tablets nonetheless.
Buck chuckles. "I know, but you just spent half an hour crying. Nobody's saving you from a headache. Just take them before it gets worse."
Eddie grimaces and complies. Because he can now, Buck plasters his entire body against Eddie's side, arms wrapping around his waist, and drops a kiss on his forehead.
Eddie instantly melts. His body gets heavy against Buck's chest with a sigh, forehead resting against Buck's chin. Buck's arms tighten.
"Well, this definitely wasn't where I thought this conversation was going," Buck claims.
Eddie barks out a laugh that shakes both their bodies, making Buck smile wide against Eddie's hair.
"Should we call it a night, sleep on it a little?" Buck continues.
Eddie leans away to meet his eyes. "Stay?" He asks with a hopeful smile.
"You sure?"
Eddie hums in affirmation. "Christopher will be ecstatic to have you here for breakfast," he explains, voice full of affection. "And I have barely seen you or talked to you in two weeks. I missed you."
He says it so simply, so earnestly, it makes Buck's legs buckle. They have said things like that to each other before, but the new implications fill his chest with warmth.
Eddie steps away. Before Buck can miss the warmth, Eddie takes his hand and pulls towards the bedroom, eyes never leaving Buck's. Buck follows mutely.
They have shared a bed before, during the pandemic, but never like this. They both sleep like the dead, barely moving in the night, so they woke up every day on their respective sides of the bed, not touching at all.
This time is, obviously, different. As soon as Buck lies down, Eddie rolls over to his side and drops his head on Buck's shoulder. His hand sneaks tentatively under his shirt. Buck rests his hand on top of Eddie's, guiding it to his stomach. Eddie draws circles on his skin with his thumb.
Finally, the tension and excitement of the day leave Buck's body completely. He feels boneless, like floating on a cloud. Cradled by Eddie's steady breathing, he drops off to sleep.