Chapter Text
Evan Buckley leaves the 118 not with a bang, but rather with the small ting of finely cut crystal.
Though, truly, if anyone at the 118 were asked, they would say there wasn't any noise at all.
Or, at least… not one that any of them heard.
In truth, there's just Buck, setting down his still full glass of wine on his sisters counter top, before he turns on his heel and walks away.
There's just the rustle of his jacket as he slides into it; while behind him the kitchen full of people continues to talk and laugh without him.
About him.
There's the creak of the front door.
A rumble of his truck engine.
Then Buck is gone.
And he doesn't come back for six months.
—
Buck pulls into his drive way and shuts his truck off. The engine clicks in the fading night as it cools, and eventually the headlights turn off. Timing out when he doesn't open the door. But still Buck doesn't move. He just sits back in his seat and stares, unseeing, out the front wind shield until his eyes burn.
Voices echo as a high pitched ringing in his ears. Setting down into the far depths of his core in a way nothing has in so long. Not since that night when he stood next to a dark blue Jeep, holding a letter in shaking hands and smarting with a broken promise.
He recognizes the feeling though. Impossible not too.
Loneliness.
Buck feels utterly and completely alone.
Abandoned. Adrift. So far out of reach of every person he just left at Maddie's dinner party. Everyone he thought was his—
Buck's not sure how long he sits there for, but when he finally shakes himself out of his stupor, the air in the cab has started to fog the windows. It takes another moment before he can force himself out of his seat. Buck stumbles, back and bad leg stiff from not moving, from sitting tense so long even if the seat of the truck is usually spacious enough not to cramp him.
His phone is silent in his pocket but he pulls it out anyways as he steps inside his house.
Buck leaves a voicemail he never thought he would.
—
The thing is, Chimney did notice Buck leave dinner early last night.
Mostly he noticed the wine glass, the only one still left full and untouched after the party, which had been weird to him because Buck had brought that bottle. He almost always brought the wine, because Buck had once worked in a winery for three months. But as far as Chimney knows, and he's pretty sure he remembers Buck had flirted himself out of a job like usual.
Maddie thinks she had spotted him sliding into his jacket as he nodded along to Jee-Yun, but Nash had started to fuss and by the time she had turned around, her brother was gone and she was pulled away into another conversation by Karen.
Then they just… didn't think anything of it.
Because Buck did things like that. He got into his head, needed air. So Chim told himself Buck would text later; would make some excuse about needing to be up early morning or that he had a migraine, or that his leg was aching from standing around talking.
Chimney told himself Maddie would know if it was something serious. So he let himself forget about Buck.
—
The 118's coffee maker hisses and spits as it finishes its cycle. And despite being half-caffeinated on spite and the three hours of sleep Nash had granted him alone, Chim curls eager fingers around one of the random assortment of mugs on the counter.
His phone sits on the counter next to him silent after bidding Maddie good morning, and Chimney glances at it with a critical eye.
No text from Buck yet. Which is fine, Chimney tells himself. Really. He knows Buck is running a wonky shift today; not scheduled to be there until ten, so he can rollover and cover a few hours for a guy on B shift who needs to come in late.
And it's still early, only quarter past seven… so Buck's probably still sleeping. Because Buck's life apparently includes things like sleeping in, while Chim's life includes two am diaper changes and mortgages and whatever the fresh hell makes up the dark liquid that he's downing that is trying to pass itself off as coffee.
His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment, tapping it idly before he shrugs and gives into the temptation to wake up his brother in law. Because why should he get to sleep when Chim doesn't…
Don't be late Buckley, get your butt here, he types. Sends it before he can overthink it, and for a little extra family guilt he adds: You owe me an explanation for last night. Then adds another one just to nail it home: Jee's mad you skipped out on reading her that dinosaur book you brought.
There, causal, normal.
Chim's on his second pass by the coffee machine, contemplating making another pot when his phone buzzes. Flashing with Buck's name on the screen and Chimney scoffs as he reads.
"Sorry Captain, taking a sick day."
Chimney doesn't think twice about it. His thumb flying over the screen.
Must be nice, he types. Some of us have to actually show up. He sends it before he even reads it back to himself. It's fine. It's Buck. They give each other shit all the time. It's what they do.
Chim shoves his phone into his pocket with another eye roll. Annoyance suddenly waking him up more than the sludge that constitutes coffee he's drinking.
Eddie, who just crested the top of the stairs as he finished adjusting his button up shirt, spots his sour expression and snorts. "What'd he do now?"
"Hm… oh, Buck's out." Chim says around his mug. "He called in sick."
Eddie makes a low, skeptical sound in the back of his throat as he reaches for his own mug of coffee. The sound is mild annoyance, filled with not quite disbelief. His now familiar of course Buck did tone. "Convenient."
The sound of a throat clearing makes both men startle, Eddie almost dropping his freshly poured coffee. As one they both turn to look across the kitchen to the empty space next to the dining table.
A woman stands there, back straight and giving off an air like she belongs there. She's late twenties, torso thick and strong, all usable muscle with a duffel slung over one shoulder. Clear retainers from removed piercings catch the light and ink peeks from beneath her sleeve as she she shifts her duffel to her other shoulder. Brown hair is pulled back off her face and her dark eyes are already sweeping the station, faces, exits, board, bay, couches: all of it in a single pass before settling on Chim.
"Can we help you?" Chim frowns, grip tight on his coffee.
Her lips purse. "Firefighter Cole, I'm here to cover the sick call for A-shift. Are you Captain Han?"
Chim glances around the room, before landing back on her, "Take a wild guess."
Eddie chuckles, like it's funny, but when the woman doesn't follow suit, he huffs. Eddie looks her up and down, gaze going hard and assessing. "You got a first name fire fighter?"
The woman purses her lips even tighter, until they're almost white and gives him the same kind of once over to him. Grins when it makes Eddie frown. "I do."
She doesn't offer it.
Chimney frowns, gritting his teeth and clearly already done with the attitude. Is about to order her to go find some busy work to do while the real fire fighters get set up for the day, when Hen crests the top of the stairs. Ravi, dressed and ready for shift, is right on her heels.
None of them notice Ravi's face lighting up when he spots the relief.
"Hey what's going on up here?" Hen asks spotting the tension.
"Looks like Buck's shirking his shift." Eddie huffs. Misses Cole's flicker of surprise at his blase words and the way Ravi's jaw tightens.
"Playing hooky, probably." Chim sighs, rolls his eyes. "Irresponsible. Calling out sick last minute like that."
Hen sets her hands on her hips, eyes surprised behind her thick rimmed glasses. "That's odd he seemed fine last night at dinner."
Ravi sighs softly, "Then it's probably his leg." He hesitates, glancing at Chim. "Or… wait. Isn't Nash getting over the flu? Maybe your baby gave him the flu, Cap?"
Eddie rolls his eyes, "Oh c'mon Ravi, there's no way he really needed to take a sick day. You heard Hen, he was fine yesterday."
"Excuse me Captain." Cole hisses. Sudden and vehement. "No firefighter should report for duty when they're ill, that is why we have sick days in the first place." Her gaze locks on Chim, flat and unwavering. "And unless you are a physician then the call of how sick he is and if a sick day if warranted or not, is not up to you. There was a call out and the absent slot has been filled, that's all you need to concern yourself with."
Chimney bristles, heat flaring up his spine, but Kels just turns on her heel, heading for the bay to dump her gear into a temporary locker.
"Well..." Hen says slowly, still looking back and forth between the woman and her best friend. "She seems nice."
"Oh yeah, she's going to be a delight," Chim mutters under his breath and motions for Eddie to pass him the coffee. "Jeez, this is gonna be a long shift."
—
Chimney doesn't think he hates easily. He likes to believe he can handle whatever personalities cycle their way through his fire house.
But he hates Kels. With a burning passion.
He finally managed to catch her first name when he found Ravi talking to her in the Bay.
Kels Cole. Her name sticks in his teeth and makes his jaw ache. Because people really just name their kids anything these days.
It's irrational, he knows. She's barely said anything to anyone, except Ravi and a couple of guys on B-shift as they were heading out. But Chimney can't help the way he feels like he's being judged by the younger firefighter every time she looks at him.
Like she's weighing him against some incomprehensible measure and been found wanting. (He's almost afraid she knew Bobby and is comparing them.)
He keeps texting Buck through the shift; complaints about the new transfer, about having to cover attitudes because Buck couldn't suck it up and work one day to get them all into their seventy-two off.
No reply.
Not a single one.
Chim rolls his eyes. Figures Buck's asleep or milking it. He means to mention it to Maddie: hey, Buck's was out sick, just so she knows.
But when he gets home Nash has blown out a diaper and Jee is shrieking at the top of her lungs and the house smells like a war crime. Maddie looks n the verge of tears and he immediately leaps into action, dealing with the diaper—taking the trash out for good measure—before ordering take-out, so he can focus on scrubbing the kitchen.
Any thought of Buck slides right out of his head with the diaper.