Chapter Text
Strobe lights burn into the retinas of his eyes and high-pitched screams vibrate through his ears, the current of the sounds striking him to the core. Strangers jump in excitement, rubbing their sweat coated skin against each other. The humidity in the building rises to levels of heat and moisture that can only be ignored due to the intense physical altercation being held before them. Two women throwing force-filled, yet calculated, punches towards each other while trying to maintain their rooted stances.
This was not his first time attending one of these club’s events, but it was the first time he was witnessing someone he cared for being one of the participants. He watches every single swing she attempts and prays it will be her last. Adrenaline courses through him, less due to the fighting and more because of his instinct to protect his sister. She wouldn’t quit though. Even if she grew tired or took a foul hit, she would prevail. Buck has always admired her perseverance.
“Maddie,” he can hear the scratch forming in his voice from yelling, “pin her! You got this!”
The fight does not prolong for much further as a final blow is swung from Maddie’s opponent - whipping her out and pinning her into submission. Buck bites his bottom lip - almost hard enough to break skin - and watches as his sister tries to resist the desire to lay winded on the ground. She is eventually released from the other woman’s hold, standing up in defeat. Sweat and blood dripped from her forehead.
It takes a few polite, but authoritative, “excuse me”s for Buck to be released from the blubbering crowd. He thanks an unknown god for the patience he possesses, even in the most frustrating of situations, while he enters the locker room for the club’s fighters. He spots Maddie near the back of the room, seemingly yelling at her coach. A mid-height bald man who Buck never had an intriguing nor educated conversation with, in the past year of knowing each other. He was the type of man who could follow a health regime religiously, but struggled to teach others the same disciplines.
After a moment of lingering on one of the bolted benches, Buck watches Maddie dismiss her coach and directs herself towards her locker.
“You almost had her,” he offers her support.
She sighs, “Almost isn’t good enough, Buck. This was my first real match, not some beginner friendly class.” She turns to look at him while she apprehensively stuffs her belongings into a bag.
Now that she faces him, Buck can see the dark circles under her eyes and the now pinkish cut sitting above her left eyebrow that was earned during the fight. His face easily shifts into worry.
“I know this is important to you, but is it worth it?” Buck grabs Maddie’s hand gently and makes their eyes connect, “And no, I’m not telling you to quit - even when I did, you didn’t listen to me so I know better. I saw you out there. I’m not doubting a single aspect of your capabilities, but are the consequences of it all worth the victory?”
A beat of silence, “Tonight confirmed it for me. I have to do this”.
Buck let go of her hand and nodded in understanding. Although he cares for his sister’s wellbeing, he knows better than most how much her independence matters to her. Darkness creeped in many corners of her past and one day it was going to reach her once again. Being one step ahead felt like her only comfort to the inevitable.
“But I need to find a new coach.”
—--
Predicting the outcome of one’s life holds a deplorable effect on the psyche. The anxieties of always anticipating the outcomes of every decision begins to weigh heavier and heavier on a man’s shoulders. A single person will always falter when faced with the sole responsibilities of the uncompromisable universe.
Yet, here stands a man that has promised himself the endurance to resist any and all difficulties. Through the fire raging against his skin, to the waves that crash into his lungs - he refuses to falter.
Until he does.
“We can’t let you back in the ring, Diaz” Bobby - the owner of Club 118, discloses.
The beating of his heart quickens, so he clenches his fist. His nails dig into his palm, almost breaking skin. In any form, he searches for relief.
“You don’t understand, I need this. I got clearance from the doctors that I can work again-”
Interrupted, “-And do they know what type of work you do? I don’t think the clearance form applies to this career path. Plus, I read the slip, it says you need at least three months of physical therapy until you can participate in extreme labor. You’re on light-duty.”
The room stills for a moment. Bobby has his arms crossed as the words are digested by the man across the desk. Instead of allowing defeat to wash over him, Eddie stands up from the lounge chair and laughs. It’s dry and raspy, as if all the air was sucked out of him.
“I never wanted to do this, Bobby. Yet this is where I ended up,” Eddie walks closer to the door of the office, “If I can’t fight here, fine. I’ll find somewhere else.”
Bobby shakes his head disapprovingly, “No one will hire you if no bets are placed on you.”
He is halfway out the door, no longer interested in participating in a losing battle, as he hears one last comment - “Diaz, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
Vibrations and a clatter are heard as the door slams shut. The knob is released from the death grip it was held in, and the room shrinks as Eddie rushes into the back parking lot. The LA heat instantly coats his exposed skin and wraps him into a cocoon of dense pressure. Expansion of the lungs becomes restricted, each breath becoming shorter but more urgent.
He pins the back of his body against the brick wall of the building, hoping that it will bring him support. A scream, crackling, and a sound similar to thunder trigger a nerve in Eddie’s brain that transforms the scene around him. No longer in California, but now in the deserts of Afghanistan.
‘This isn’t real‘ , he prays.
Two-hundred and fifty eight days was how long it had been since his last episode. It once again felt like the ground was drawing him in - devouring him. Scratching and clawing at his flesh so it could finally lay him to rest.
The haze of Afghanistan starts to deteriorate, but the harsh lights of the ring take its place. Sweat and the smell of iron remain the same. Deja vu seemed so foreign until the bruises from his injury tingle. He applies pressure to his once fractured shoulder - unsure if he wants to aid the sharpening pain or make it worse.
Pressing his fist deeper into the bruises, he chokes back a wet groan. The stinging of the damaged nerves almost becomes unbearable.
“Hey, man! Are you okay?” seemingly one of the 118 staff members, hustle towards Eddie.
A sobering feeling strikes up Eddie’s back and he is released back into reality. Oxygen filling the deprived lungs. He pushes back and finds his proper footing, escaping confrontation with a stranger. He flees to his truck, ignites the transmission, and throws the gear into reverse.
‘You’re a fucking mess.’
He is cursing at himself as he presses his foot harder on to the gas pedal. An itch over his skin starts to evolve due to the fabric of his shirt being covered in sweat. Nerves in his wrist ache due to the grip he holds on the steering wheel.
On the dashboard of his truck, the screen lights up to alert Eddie of an incoming call. He presses the green button on the screen, knowing the caller would only call back if he declined.
“How was the chat with Bobby?” a familiar feminine voice booms from the speakers.
Eddie grimaces at the question and lacks the energy to hide the anger in his reply, “He benched me. Then had the fucking audacity to say my fights weren’t bet worthy.”
Lena’s laugh echoes from the speakers to Eddie’s currently fragile ego. It shakes, bends, and cracks at every edge - threatens to break and drag the man down with it.
“You’ve been undefeated for five matches in a row, I don’t think he meant it the way you took it. But I told you that you’re not ready to go back, Eddie.”
“I’ve been training and my strength is almost fully back-” he doesn’t get to finish the rebuttal.
“Almost isn’t good enough in this world. I thought you knew that,” her words stabbed like a ridged knife.
No more words are spoken for a beat while Eddie tries to find his balance and subside the adrenaline that finds him every time a mildly frustrating situation arises. He knows the words she speaks are not meant to be intentionally hurtful but they sting because he knows they are true.
With as much neutrality he can muster, “What do I do now?”.
“Well we’ve got the bad news, now I’m about to share the good news,” gleefully, maybe too much, she says, “I caught up with an old friend of mine today. She was never a fighter but has been a part of the circle for a while as an organizer.”
“She happened to tell me about this probie who is trying to go pro - or as pro as one of us can go. This fighter just fired her coach and she’s seeking out a new one. Maybe that someone could be you.”
Eddie pulls into his driveway, the tension in his muscles finally starting to release once the comfort of his home is in sight. The living room light is on and Pepa's car is parked in the normally barren area near the garage.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “A damn coach? I thought only fifty year old washed up men did that.”
“She’s offering decent pay, and you’ll be forced to work at our local Shell if you don’t get a job soon,” a teasing tone breaking through, “Plus, you’re basically reaching the heights of old age with those damn knee socks and reading glasses you wear.”
A smile hints at the corners of his lips, “I hear enough shit from my kid - I don’t need to hear it from you too.”
He is about to turn the engine off but wants to finish the call first, so before Lena can resort to another quip at his ego, “I’ll do it, but once I get the green light - I’m getting back in the ring.”
“I expect nothing less from you. I’ll text you everything you need to know,” an almost silent sigh leaves her lips, “Talk soon and take it easy, Eddie.”
“Soon,” Eddie ends the call.
—---
“I told you that you didn’t need to come with me,” Maddie quickened her pace as she walked into the gym.
Buck squeezes into the building before the door shuts completely, huffing in frustration, “Your last coach was a terrible choice so I’m here to make sure this guy isn’t going to be another bust. Plus I don’t feel like grading 12 year-olds on how well they remember the borders of countries.”
Maddie shakes her head, but doesn’t reply back. Instead she focuses her attention on the only other man who can bring an unapologetic smile to her face. A mini octagon shaped ring sits as the centerpiece of the space. Large foam mats and simplistic workout equipment scattered around the rest of the area. Currently, right outside of the ring, Chimney Han mirrors Maddie’s smile and pulls her into a hug.
Chimney had entered the Buckely’s life three months ago when Maddie had began networking with fellow female fighters. A broad beautiful woman had approached her in the locker room, discussing with Maddie how clubs like the 118 worked. The woman had introduced herself as Hen, the lead medic working at the 118. Their intertwinement then led to an introduction of Hen’s second hand - Chimney. He had been working for the club before Hen had arrived, but never desired to be in a managerial position. The fellow medic respected and worked seamlessly with the woman.
After departing from the embrace and exchanging hellos, Chimney smacks his hands and rubs them together in a mischievous manner, “Neither of you are ready for this guy! I honestly can’t believe he agreed to it.”
“What? His ego is so big that he couldn’t imagine training a beginner?” Buck scoffs. He acknowledged how unfair it was to cast judgment on someone he didn’t know, but all he heard about the man was how violent his matches were and that he recently suffered an injury.
Maddie slaps the side of her brother’s arm, hard enough to cause Buck to flinch. They exchange a look of subtle disbelief with each other.
“I’m not a complete beginner, jerk. And if you ever saw Eddie fight, you’d know what Chimney is talking about,” Maddie states, “I don’t know why he has any interest in coaching anyone when he technically is at the height of his career.”
Chimney chimes in, “All he needs to do is go pro, televised and interviews. The whole nine. But he would have to clean up his fighting style before they let him do that.”
“You two talk about him like he is some celebrity. This guy can’t be that good,” Buck awkwardly chuckles. He wonders if he could challenge Eddie to a fight - just to see if the man is really worthy of praise.
Both Maddie and Chim look past Buck, “Why don’t you ask him how good he is then?”
Turning around, his eyes settle on a dark haired man with a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Oxygen levels lower in the room while Buck tries to suck in a surprised breath. He coughs due to the lack of ventilation but recovers quickly. The stranger was changing his sweatshirt for a generic black t-shirt to cover his defined abdomen.
Involuntarily, the ligaments in Buck’s fingers twitch. Flickers of irritation surge through him more than before since seeing the face of the faux-celebrity fighter.
“You have got to be kidding me,” he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice with how hoarse it sounds.
He hears giggles behind him and then Maddie’s voice, “Not kidding, but still absolutely hilarious.”
Time seemed to slow down upon Buck’s initial viewing of the man, but suddenly time was forced forward when the stranger was standing in front of him. There are a few inches of height that differ between them, but the height advantage over Eddie doesn’t lessen how intimidating he looks. His jaw is clenched shut, no amusement is present on his face, and his left eyebrow is arched in an almost impatient manner.
“Are you Maddie?”
Buck is pushed to the side by Maddie’s hand while she introduces herself to her new coach.
“I am, and I already know your Eddie Diaz,” she smiles politely, “I can’t believe you wanted to do this.”
Eddie shrugs dismissively, but keeps an almost military posture.
“I’ve found myself needing some time away from fighting. At least any that involve me in the ring,” Eddie’s eyes glance over the other two men standing behind the woman, “Plus, I heard you pay well.” A roguish smile spreads across his face and Buck thinks for a second that Eddie might be handsome.
“If you expect quality work, you have to pay quality wages,” Chimney pokes. Maddie laughs, but the other two men look at Chimney with puzzled looks.
A gruff, “I suppose” leaves Eddie’s mouth.
Feeling like an outcast, Buck steps out from behind his sister, “I am Buck - Maddie’s brother”. They make eye contact as Buck hesitantly shakes Eddie’s hand. Every callus and cut that has formed on the other man’s hand, burns into Buck’s skin. He quickly detaches himself and looks past Eddie to break the sensation.
Eddie seems to not notice the reaction, nodding his head in acknowledgement to the greeting.
“You’re a fighter too?” Eddie analyzes the man’s body as he says it.
Buck felt like he was sitting under a microscope. Being studied with the intent of finding something.
“Sadly, I’m just the poor soul who gets to worry about his sister everyday,” Buck laughs to play off his actual concerns as a joke, “I’m a seventh grade history teacher, actually. I figured I’d go for brains instead of brawn.”
For the second time that day, Buck earns a hard slap from his sister. He anticipated it though when everyone around him didn’t laugh, but looked taken aback by his comment. Not that he believes his better than them for choosing a different career path, but he wanted to take a jab at Eddie. He wants to see a reaction that isn’t silently studying the room or being nonchalant.
People spoke of Eddie as if he was a killer. Striking his opponents with enough force to cause broken bones in the face. He was brutish and unforgiving, supposedly. Buck hasn’t seen the behavior, yet. The only hint of possible psychoticness sat in the man’s brown eyes that when they studied Buck, it made him uneasy.
Buck rubs his arm, “You’re gonna bruise me if you keep hitting me like that!”.
“Good, I hope you do,” Maddie gave him a pointed look but then looked at Eddie, “Sorry, he isn’t house trained.”
Eddie shakes it off, “Glad he isn’t an opponent. Some people just aren’t cut out for it. Like he said, brains over brawn”.
Flashes of red blind Buck’s vision and his heart rate quickens. Before he can dig himself a deeper hole, Eddie suggests they start the session.
“You two can be dismissed,” Eddie and Maddie get into the ring, “She will be avoiding all distractions.”
Buck wants to climb into the ring and see how hard of a punch he needs to throw to wipe the smug smile off the brown eyed man. The smile only perks up in the right corner of his mouth and a hint of his white canines are exposed.
Chimney grabs Buck’s shoulder in a friendly tug, “Come on, little Buckley, time to head out”.
A frustrated huff leaves his mouth, but he follows Chimney to the exit door. He glances behind him one last time, confirming that his sister was safe and that Eddie - well, he wasn’t sure why he allows his eyes to linger over Eddie for a moment. All he knows is that he didn’t like the guy.