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When Chimney returned from Boston, he thought everything would be the same as he left it. Not a lot can happen in six months, right?
Wrong. He was very, very wrong.
As Hen filled him in on all the things he missed, his surprise grew with each new piece of information. Bobby replacing him was no big deal. But when he found out Eddie had been replaced, boy, did that come as a shock.
“Eddie quit?” Chimney had said disbelievingly. “Why?”
“It had something to do with Christopher, I think,” Hen answered. “Poor kid was scared of losing his dad, so Eddie tried to minimize the possibility of it happening.”
Reeling, he took a sip of beer and let her words wash over him. The shooting, Chimney realized. It was all tied to that fateful day where Eddie nearly died and Chris almost lost another parent.
God, he thought, that couldn’t have been easy on either of them.
So he made a mental note to check up on Eddie soon. After all, it’s the least he could do. Especially since the other man had visited Chimney in the midst of his mental turmoil over Maddie leaving.
A couple days later, he found out Eddie had broken into a million little pieces. His heart ached for him, but he waited another few days before finally visiting his friend. Giving some time would help, and he didn’t want to intrude.
Arriving around one, Chimney knocks on the door of the Diaz home, hands in his pockets while he waits. When it opens, he’s uncharacteristically speechless at the sight of Eddie, who has tired eyes and sunken cheeks, his whole being frayed at the edges. Then, his eyes light up and Chimney is slightly consolidated.
“Look who finally returned to us,” Eddie teases, bringing him in for a hug.
Chuckling, Chimney pats his back good-naturedly. “Can’t keep me away for long, Diaz.”
“I know, it’s impossible.” But he wears a grin, all remnants of his previously grim expression gone. “Come on inside.”
Once they’re in the living room, Eddie settles on the couch, Chimney seated on the armchair opposite him. He observes the room for a moment before Eddie draws him out of it.
“So, you want me to beat around the bush or get straight to it?”
Chimney quirks an eyebrow. “I should be asking you that,” he deflects easily. “Heard about what happened. I’m sorry.”
A frown tugs on Eddie’s lips. “Yeah, me too.”
They sit in silence for a while, then Chimney speaks up. “How’s Chris?”
“Considering he heard me lose my shit and rip a tornado through my bedroom, I dunno.” He suddenly looks ashamed. “I didn’t want to put him through that.”
“You know how you shake a soda can, the pressure builds up?” Eddie nods. “You shake and shake, and when you crack it open, everything explodes. You can’t stop it from spilling everywhere.”
“Are you saying I’m the soda can?”
“Yeah.” Chimney smiles a sad smile. “Feelings get messy sometimes, Eddie. And that’s okay.”
Pursing his lips, Eddie nods simply, hands clasped together as if praying. He’s not the type to pray, Chimney knows that. He lost his faith in God a long time ago. “I’m going to therapy,” he admits, seeming to surprise himself with the words.
“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” the paramedic replies. “That’s good, though. I’m proud of you.”
He’s rewarded with an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Chim.” A pause. “I’m sorry about you and Maddie.”
Snorting humourlessly, Chimney stares at the coffee table. “I am, too.”
“It’s not your fault, you know?”
He doesn’t trust himself to speak right now, so he opts for shaking his head. Every problem has felt like his doing as of late. Whenever Chimney touches something, it shatters beneath his fingers like glass.
He tells Eddie this, who quirks a half smile. “Believe me, you’re not the only one who feels that way.”
“We’re both a fucking mess, aren’t we?” Chimney asks, and they burst into a fit of laughter. After calming down, he continues. “Seriously, though, this year has been a shitshow. Feels as if the universe is throwing us around like a couple of rag dolls.”
“Eh, I might have to agree with you on this one.”
“Wow, what was that? I didn’t catch it.”
“Too late, you’ve lost your chance.”
Chimney retaliates by launching a throw pillow at him, to which Eddie barely deflects with his arm in time. In a flash, he sees it being thrown back at him and it connects to his face.
“Oof!” Chimney exclaims in surprise, scowling as Eddie laughs. But he can’t bring himself to be entirely annoyed at him; who knows when was the last time he enjoyed himself like this.
They continue throwing it until he notices the downward turn of Eddie’s lips. “What’s up?” he asks, stopping momentarily.
“I…” He scratches the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. “This might sound stupid, but I feel guilty.”
“About what?”
“Having fun, being happy.”
A pang hits Chimney’s chest at the confession, though he understands where he’s coming from. Despite his own return to the 118, he’s put on a facade, acting like everything is okay and giving everyone the impression he’s doing fine when it’s far from the truth. He allows himself to laugh, to crack a joke, because that’s what everyone expects him to do. However, there’s always a little whisper insisting he doesn’t deserve to feel happy, not one bit.
Perhaps Eddie has been hearing the same whisper, too.
“Have you told Frank about it?”
“No. I know what he’s going to say, anyway.”
Chimney looks at him thoughtfully. “If Chris said what you told me, what would you tell him?”
Eddie’s answer is immediate. “That he deserves to feel all those good things, regardless of what happened.” He contemplates for a moment, realization dawning on him. “You just pulled a Frank on me.”
“Did I? Jury’s still out on that one.” Chimney grins.
“You’re an asshole.”
He places a hand over his chest dramatically.“I’ve been wounded. How dare you tarnish my name like this, Diaz?”
Relief surges in his veins again as Eddie laughs, and he notices some of the colour has returned to his previously pale face. Though Chimney knows, deep down, Eddie will eventually slink back into the shadows of his own mind at some point. In the meantime, he’ll do his damndest to keep him smiling.
Eddie sits up suddenly. “Shoot, what time is it?” he asks, patting his pockets for his phone.
Chimney checks his watch. “It’s two, why?”
“Chris’ll be done from school soon.” Eddie stands, head tilted as he muses over something. “Hey, wanna come with me to pick him up? I’m sure he’d love to see you; he’s been asking about you these last few months.”
His heart swells affectionately for both of the Diaz boys. “Yeah, of course.” Chimney rises to his feet, following Eddie while he grabs his belongings and heads out the door.
“Carla’s not working today?” he asks once they’re on the way to Chris’s school.
“Nah, she will be tomorrow.” Eddie makes a left on Cardinal Lane, slowing to a stop behind a bus dropping off its students. “I go back to work, so…” he trails off, shrugging.
“Right.” Chimney gazes out the window for a moment, contemplating his next question carefully. “Can I ask…”
“Why I broke down in the first place?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s…” He sighs softly. “Frank gave me an assignment to check up on my buddies from the army. Reconnect with them, maybe it’d make me feel less alone. Less resentful towards myself.” A humourless laugh escapes him. “It didn’t work out so well; I found out they all died.”
It feels as though all the oxygen has been sucked out of the vehicle, Chimney’s heart hammering as he processes this new information. He chances a glance at Eddie, who seems relatively unperturbed. Is he repressing, or accepting? He’s never been able to tell the difference in all the years he’s known him.
“I blamed myself,” Eddie continues on, both with his story and driving. “Not for their deaths, but for being the sole survivor. Why am I still here despite the near death experiences I’ve had? The times I should have died but didn’t?”
Those words are practically identical to the ones Chimney repeats to himself like a broken record. They linger on his skin, in the corners of his mind. Stabbing at him like pins whenever they lose someone on a call, because he wasn’t good enough and disappoints people like it’s the easiest thing in the world. So fruitless despite all his efforts otherwise.
An image of Maddie submerging herself in the ocean flashes in his mind’s eye, and Chimney has to suck in a deep breath.
“You’re here because you’re you,” he replies.
Eyebrows furrowing together, Eddie glances at him briefly. “Not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”
“It means you have a reason. A purpose in life. That’s the point in sticking around.”
“What is my purpose, exactly?”
“Now that’s a question you have to find the answer on your own.”
He rubs the side of his face in exhaustion. “I’m tired of looking for it, to be honest with you.”
“Maybe you’ve tired yourself out by constantly looking,” Chimney says. “Sometimes you have to let it come to you naturally. The universe will find a way.”
“You know I don’t believe in all that schmuck.”
“Eddie,” Chimney huffs out as a laugh, which makes him look over, confused, “you gotta let yourself believe in something. Doesn’t have to be God, or the universe. Fuck, you could place your faith in Mother Nature and it would benefit you somehow.” No reply from Eddie, so he pushes on. “All I’m saying is, believing in something, or someone, gives you the little bit of hope that you might need. So think about it, what do you believe in?”
“Why don’t you answer first?”
He snorts. “Childish, but okay.” Chimney pauses for a moment to ponder. He knows who he doesn’t believe in; himself. Process by elimination means it would be anyone else in his life. “You already know this, but I do believe in the universe. I believe in Maddie, Jee-Yun, the 118. I believe in all the lives I’ve saved because I know they bettered themselves in one way or another.”
“You don’t believe in yourself?”
“Hey, you don’t either,” he admonishes Eddie lightly, to which he chuckles.
“Alright, you got me there.” Making a turn into the school’s parking lot, Eddie finds a spot and kills the engine. Neither says a word until he speaks up. “The question you asked me– do I have to answer now?”
“Nah.” Chimney clasps Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s just something for you to think about.”
“You sound like Frank.”
“Okay, this is the second time you’ve compared me to a mental health professional. Don’t hold me in such high regard, dude.”
Eddie laughs and exits the truck, leading the way to the front doors where students are milling about, meeting with their guardians so they can head home. He turns to Chimney, a smile playing on his lips, no doubt an idea forming in his mind.
“Hide behind me.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I wanna surprise Chris.”
A similar smile grows on Chimney’s face and he nods. Moving to stand behind Eddie, he crouches slightly and huffs at his back. “This is kinda humiliating, you know,” he says when a nearby mother stares at them oddly, presumably wondering why one grown man is hiding behind another.
“I know, that’s partly why I asked you.”
“Screw you.”
Chimney doesn’t need to look at his face to know he’s smirking like a jackass. Briefly, he stands on his toes to peer over Eddie’s shoulder, ducking back down when he notices the familiar mop of curly hair passing through the doors with his teacher.
“Hey, buddy!” Eddie calls out to Christopher as he walks towards them. “Look who I brought with me.” He steps to the side to reveal Chimney standing behind him.
Christopher’s eyes light up in delight, a broad smile on his face as he practically speeds to reach the two. “Chimney! You’re back!” he says gleefully.
Laughing, the paramedic closes the distance to gather the boy in his arms, chest nearly caving in when he realizes he’s grown enough for his head to brush against Chimney’s chin. Christopher hugs him back just as tightly, Eddie watching them with a fond expression.
“What’s up, Superman?” he asks once they pull away. “It’s been a long six months since I last saw you.”
“It’s been too long!” The boy agrees. “How was Boston? Did you find Maddie?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Is she okay?” Chris asks.
Chimney notes Eddie observing him out of the corner of his eye as they trek back to the truck. Chris may be a kid, but he’d rather not sugarcoat things. But he’s a kid, so telling him the full harsh details of the situation wouldn’t be ideal, either.
“She was sick for a while,” he settles on saying. “Though she got better. She came back to L.A, too.”
Chris nods. “That’s good.” He looks up at him. “Are you okay?”
Taken aback, Chimney shares a glance with the other man before answering. “Yeah, kid. I’m just fine. Don’t you worry.” He ruffles his hair, grinning at his giggles.
After they settle in the car and drive back to the house, Chris leans forward to talk to Eddie. “Dad, is it okay if Chimney can stay for lunch?”
“‘Course he can.” The easy answer warms Chimney’s heart.
They spend the ride talking about Chris’s day, what he learned and the new video game he bought.
“Another Lego Star Wars?” Chimney asks. “Don’t they get tired of making those?
“Apparently not, judging by the sheer amount Chris has,” Eddie grumbles lightly.
“Chimney, we have to play together!” he insists, ignoring his father’s words.
“Well, I certainly can’t turn down an offer like that.”
Eddie looks at Chris in the rearview mirror. “But you have to play after your homework is done, capisce?”
“Capisce,” Chris says, albeit reluctantly.
Chimney turns in his seat to face him. “Tell you what, why don’t you leave me with a meal request? You cravin’ anything in particular?”
“Pizza! The home cooked kind.”
“Think I can work with that.”
“Chim,” Eddie starts, “you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he reassures him. “What kind of pizza do ya want?”
“Pineapple!”
“Oh, Chris.” Chimney shakes his head. “Buddy, buddy, buddy…”
Chris laughs at his reaction. “It’s tasty! You have to try a bite.”
“Trust me, I have.” He looks at Eddie with raised eyebrows. “Is this a family trait he’s inherited?”
“No,” he scoffs, parking in the driveway. “He’s just a strange kid.”
“You guys are strange,” Chris retaliates.
The trio make their way inside the house, beelining for the kitchen and Chimney opening the fridge door. “You guys got frozen pineapples?”
“In the freezer,” Eddie says.
Chimney locates the bag and points it at Eddie accusingly. “Aha! You’ve got these despite not liking pineapple pizza. Care to explain why?”
“I make smoothies and put pineapple chunks in them,” he deadpans, looking at the other man with a bemused expression.
“Hm. Chris, can you confirm this?”
“I can, but only ‘cause he doesn’t know how to make a pizza.” Chris laughs.
“Why do I need to know when I can dial a number and have them bring it to me?” Eddie retorts.
“I believe you.” Chimney snorts. “Now get me everything you need to make some dough.” When Eddie stares at him, he sighs. “Don’t look at me like that, Buck told me you’re not clueless about cooking as you once were.”
“Damn it.”
As he goes about grabbing the necessary ingredients, Chimney nudges Chris. “Help him out, will you? Next thing you know he’ll grab the baking soda because he thinks it’s flour.”
He sniggers and does as told, assisting Eddie in retrieving bowls and rolling pins. Soon enough, the three of them begin creating the dough, Eddie giving the other two a warning to not start a flour fight.
“I really don’t feel like cleaning up a mess right now,” he says lightly, but Chimney easily detects the deeper meaning behind his words.
“Aw, but throwing flour is the best part!” Chris protests.
Chimney playfully swipes his nose with a dash of flour “Hey, next time I come here we can bake some cookies and have a fight. Deal?”
Wriggling his nose, Chris smiles and nods in agreement. Eddie sends Chimney a grateful look, to which he reciprocates by patting his shoulder with a flour dusted hand.
“This is my favourite henley,” Eddie grumbles, swatting him away.
“You have a thousand of those in the same colour, it’s really not the end of the world.”
They resume their task of making the dough, applying the toppings before popping two pizzas in the oven (one pineapple and the other margarita, because the two adults would rather not subject themselves to the former). After wiping down the counters, they retreat back to the living room, where Chimney and Chris have an animated discussion about movies as Eddie listens in.
“You don’t like The Force Awakens?” Chris asks incredulously.
Chimney grimaces. “It’s not bad, but the rest of the sequels are a dumpster fire.”
“How many movies are there, exactly?” Eddie asks.
“Eleven, but nine of them include prequels, the originals, and the sequels,” Chris answers.
Eddie mumbles something like ‘why do they need that many’ and Chimney snickers in amusement. Some time later, Eddie briefly retreats to his room to make a phone call, leaving the others alone. Chimney doesn’t miss the worried face Chris has on as Eddie rounds the corner.
Chris was the one who called me, he recalls Buck telling the story a couple days ago. He heard Eddie breaking everything, Scared the crap out of him.
“Y’know, since your dad is busy,” Chimney starts, “we can game ‘till the pizza gets ready.”
Nodding in agreement, Chris readies the console for them, but even as they play he appears to be distracted. When his Anakin falls off the bridge they’re trying to cross for the umpteenth time, Chimney pauses the game and observes him. His eyebrows are pinched together, forehead creasing with worry lines.
“He’s just taking a call,” Chimney reassures softly. “Nothing major; he’ll be back in a few minutes or so.”
“I’m just scared,” Chris admits. “He was yelling and crying a lot that night. And he didn’t answer when I was knocking on the door.”
“It’s perfectly okay to feel afraid. I still am.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I worry about Maddie and Jee’s safety. If they’re okay or not,” Chimney replies. “When bad things happen, you’re scared of it repeating, scared to go through all that pain again.”
Hands absently fiddling with the controller joysticks, Chris asks, “Then how do I stop feeling scared?”
Nonplussed, Chimney directs his gaze to the floor, unsure how to answer. Honestly, the fear of something awful happening has been ingrained in him for so long he’s grown used to it, allowing it to take over his mind and life in more ways than one. Coupled with the events that occurred over the last several months, he thinks it might never go away completely.
“I don’t think you can, Chris,” he finally says. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I don’t want to lie to you.” Chimney presses on when he doesn’t reply. “You learn to live with it. Eventually, you will feel less afraid. If you constantly surround yourself with joy and people you love, the good outweighs your fear.”
Chris stares for a few moments, and Chimney suddenly worries he may have confused or made him more sad. Then the boy smiles and he feels dizzy with relief.
“I get it now,” Chris says just as the oven dings, signalling their pizza has finished baking. Eddie suddenly renters the room, making Chimney suspect he had been listening in on their conversation. Not that he minds; if anything, he hopes it relieved some of the exhaustion on Eddie’s shoulders.
They dig in their food, and within twenty minutes their plates are clear, Chris hurriedly retires to his bedroom to complete some homework while Eddie and Chimney wash the dishes.
“I see you two already started gaming while I was distracted,” Eddie comments, handing Chimney a plate to dry off.
Chuckling, he wipes it down and deposits it in the dish rack. “It was my idea. We didn’t play much, anyway, he was pretty distracted.”
“I know.” Eddie cleans his hands, eyes averted away. “I, uh, kinda eavesdropped on you guys.”
Well, at least Chimney’s suspicions are confirmed. “Look, if I said anything wrong, I—“
“You didn’t,” he interrupts. “If anything, you helped him out, and you helped me. So… thank you.” His smile overshadows the weariness present in his eyes. “You’ll be great at giving Jee advice when the time comes; you’re already a great dad.”
Am I? Chimney wonders. After everything, does he deserve to think himself as a good father?
But Eddie seems happy, content for the moment, so he locks those thoughts in a box and throws away the key. “Thanks, it means a lot coming from you,” Chimney says appreciatively. “You’re the best dad Chris could have, and he adores you, man.”
You have no idea how much I look up to you, he adds privately.
“Thanks.” Eddie chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though he definitely isn’t fond of me when I say he has to go to bed. Or do his homework. Or do anything involving responsibilities, for that matter.”
“Eh, kids are like that. Don’t forget he’ll be a teenager soon; he’s bound for some rebellion.”
“How could I forget? I am a little worried, though.”
“Chris is not going to become Darth Sideous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
Rolling his eyes, Eddie leans against the counter. “Teenagers are unpredictable, and dealing with them can be crazy. Some parents don’t do it right, my dad certainly didn’t. There’s a part of me that’s afraid of turning out like him.”
“My dad wasn’t around at all when I was a teen, so you’re a lot better in that department already,” Chimney jokes lightly. “You mentioned before yours wasn’t the biggest fan of feelings, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. He pulled me aside when I was ten years old and said it was time for me to be ‘the man of the house.’” Eddie shakes his head.
Chimney winces sympathetically. “Least you know not to be the same with Chris. Maybe the best thing to do is just do the opposite of what your dad did. Be better than he was. I’m trying that with Jee-Yun.”
“Sounds achievable when you put it that way.”
“Because it is.” He becomes serious, arms crossed. “If every person was better than their shitty parents, every kid would grow up happy and loved.”
Eddie looks at him the same way Chris did earlier (so that’s where he gets it from), lost in thought. “You’re right.”
“Don’t fuel my ego,” Chimney says as Chris reenters the kitchen.
“I’m done! Can we play now?”
Damn, how long had they been talking for? “Yeah we can.” He laughs when Chris tugs on his hand, urging him along and talking about a game called Fortnight?
“It’s Fortnite,” Eddie corrects when they sit on the couch. “I was confused too when he got into it.”
“Kids these days don’t play Halo anymore?” Chimney frowns.
“What’s that?” Chris says.
“Jesus Christ, nevermind.”
As Chris shows him the logistics of Fortnite, Chimney feels older by the minute. How are all these features not overwhelming? He might have a stroke from watching the speedy gameplay.
“So— wait, you build while people shoot at you?” Chris nods in confirmation and Chimney turns to Eddie. “I don’t get it.”
“You askin’ me if I do?”
“No. You obviously don’t, either.”
From there, Chris gets the other two to take turns playing in a match. Both of them get eliminated within five minutes. Chris, of course, outshines by securing a win. Regardless, they’re having fun and laughing, minds far away from the reality of their lives.
A ding echoes from Chimney’s pocket and he pulls out his phone, nearly swearing when he sees the reminder to go pick up Jee from Maddie’s place.
“Sorry, guys, but I gotta go grab Jee-Yun before Maddie’s shift starts.” He stands to leave. “But I can definitely come ‘round next week,” he adds at Chris’s crestfallen face.
“Okay,” he says and hugs Chimney tightly, smiling up at him afterwards.
“I’ll walk you out,” Eddie offers. Chimney waves goodbye to Chris before following him out to the cool evening air. They stand on the porch for a while, breathing in the change of scenery.
“Thank you,” Eddie says. “I really needed a day like this. So did Christopher.”
Smiling, Chimney shrugs nonchalantly. “No big deal. You know I’m here anytime.”
Eddie responds by pulling him in for a hug, and Chimney catches all the words he can’t say in the gesture. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulders in kind before he promises he’ll say hi to Maddie and Jee for him.
As he drives back to his girls, Chimney feels lighter than he has in weeks. Maybe he needed a day like this, too.