Chapter Text
Buck was not fine.
In fact, he was everything but fine. Eddie had been waiting for the fallout—expecting it, really. After Bobby’s funeral, he thought Buck would finally break. Scream. Cry. Something.
They were living in the same house, for Christ’s sake. If anyone was going to witness Buck unraveling, it should’ve been Eddie.
But instead, Buck pulled further and further away—from Eddie, from the team, from himself. He insisted he was okay. He smiled in all the right places, even laughed at jokes around the firehouse. But Eddie had known him long enough to see through the act.
It was in his eyes. That haunted, glassy look that never quite went away. The kind of grief that gnawed at a person from the inside out. Sadness, guilt, pain—and worst of all, regret.
Bobby had been more than a captain to Buck. He’d been like a father.
And Buck had every damn right to fall apart.
But he didn’t. He just kept… existing. Quiet. Withdrawn. Refusing to crack.
Eddie felt helpless.
“Hey, Eddie—have you talked to Buck lately?” Hen asked one afternoon, stepping up beside him at the coffee machine.
Eddie shook his head with a tired sigh. “Not really. I mean… we’re living together, but he barely says more than ten words to me these days.”
Hen frowned. “That’s not like him.”
“Tell me about it,” Eddie muttered. “He keeps saying he doesn’t want to be a burden, that he’s overstaying his welcome. I keep telling him to stay as long as he wants—hell, needs. But it’s like the more I try, the more he shuts me out.”
Hen’s expression turned somber. “He’s grieving. Just… differently.”
Eddie nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. He hated how powerless it made him feel.
Before either of them could say more, the station alarm blared to life, lights flashing red as the dispatcher’s voice filled the room:
“Structure fire, commercial building. Possible entrapment. Units 118, 147, respond immediately.”
Eddie grabbed his helmet and followed Hen toward the trucks, his thoughts still tangled with worry.
And somewhere behind them, Buck—silent and composed—pulled on his gear and climbed aboard, blue eyes set ahead, too calm for a man with a storm brewing inside.