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The first thing Bobby did after being freed from the secure facility was find his wife.
The moment he stepped into the precinct, Athena was already moving toward him. Fast. Desperate.
“Bobby.”
Her voice cracked on his name.
Then she was in his arms.
Athena clung to him so tightly it almost hurt, fingers twisted into the back of his jacket like she thought he might disappear if she let go. Bobby buried his face in her hair and held her just as fiercely. For over a year, the closest they had come to touching was a hand pressed against opposite sides of reinforced glass.
Now she was real.
Warm. Breathing. Crying against his shoulder.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, you’re here.”
“I’m here, baby,” Bobby murmured, his own voice rough. “I got you.”
Athena pulled back just enough to look at him, both hands framing his face like she needed proof. Her eyes searched every inch of him—the weight he’d lost, the exhaustion carved deep into his features, the faint bruising still left behind by needles and restraints.
“You’re too thin,” she said immediately.
Bobby let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Nice to see you too.”
Her mouth trembled. “Don’t joke right now.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head before pressing her forehead against his. Bobby could feel her shaking.
Athena Grant never shook.
Not during shootings. Not during earthquakes. Not while leading terrified civilians out of burning buildings beside his team. But now, in the middle of the bullpen at the LAPD precinct, his wife was falling apart in his arms.
And Bobby hated that he was the reason.
“They told me you died,” she admitted quietly. “I saw how they took you out, in a body bag.” Her voice sharpened suddenly, anger bleeding through the grief. “I wasn’t allowed to even see you, to say goodbye. We had a funeral.”
“I know.”
“How could you know?” she snapped, tears filling her eyes again. “You weren’t here.”
The words hung between them.
Bobby nodded once because she was right.
“No,” he said softly. “I wasn’t.”
For a second neither of them spoke. The noise of the precinct faded into the background until it felt like they were the only two people left in the room.
Athena took a shaky breath. “Come on,” she whispered. “Let’s sit down.”
The agent assigned to Bobby’s case quietly guided them into a small office before closing the door behind them. The second it shut, Athena turned back to him.
“How?” she asked. “How did this happen?”
Bobby leaned back in the chair, suddenly exhausted all over again. He rubbed a hand over his face before answering.
“I woke up in a medical room,” he said quietly. “Locked doors. No windows. At first, I thought I was in a hospital.”
Athena stayed silent, listening.
“But it wasn’t a hospital,” Bobby continued. “Not really. They kept taking blood. Running tests. Every day.” He laughed bitterly. “Sometimes multiple times a day.”
Athena’s expression hardened. “For the antibody.”
“Yeah.” He stared at the floor. “They found out hat I have ‘golden blood.’ Said if my blood could help save newborns and mothers before, maybe it could help create vaccines too.”
“And they just kept you there?”
Bobby nodded. “They said it was for national security.”
“Bullshit.”
A tired smile flickered across Bobby’s face. “Pretty much.”
Athena reached for his hand immediately when his voice faltered.
“What else?” she asked gently.
Bobby hesitated.
“There were other patients,” he admitted. “Most of them were sick. Some didn’t even know why they were there anymore.”
Athena squeezed his hand tighter.
“And one of them escaped,” Bobby said. “Former military, I think.” He exhaled slowly. “He came back with reinforcements two nights ago. That’s how we got out.”
Athena stared at him for a long moment before whispering, “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence settled between them, softer this time.
Finally Athena asked the question that had clearly been haunting her.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Bobby looked up at her then, really looked at her.
Because there it was.
The hurt.
Not anger. Not accusation. Hurt.
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “God, Athena, I wanted to so bad.” His voice cracked slightly. “But after fourteen months of you thinking I’m death…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do it over the phone.”
Athena’s eyes filled immediately.
“I needed to see you,” Bobby whispered. “Needed you to know I was real before I heard everyone else’s voices.”
At that, Athena broke completely.
She crossed the room in two steps and kissed him hard, desperate and trembling, one hand cupping the side of his neck.
“I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “Do you hear me? I love you so much.”
Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the simple freedom of holding her.
“I love you too.”
“You were missed,” Athena said, brushing tears from her cheeks. “By everyone. The kids, the team… So much happened, and we were so lost without you.”
That earned a real laugh from Bobby. “Sounds about right.” For the first time since walking into the precinct, Bobby felt something loosen in his chest.
Home.
Athena smiled softly when she saw it happen.
“We should call them,” Athena said gently, her thumb brushing across Bobby’s knuckles. “They deserve to know that you’re alive.”
The words hit harder than he expected.
Alive.
For fourteen months, Bobby had existed in a strange limbo where even he hadn’t fully believed that word applied to him anymore. He had breathed, eaten, slept under fluorescent lights while strangers studied his blood like he was a science project instead of a person. But living? That had stopped a long time ago.
Bobby nodded slowly before leaning forward, resting his forehead against hers.
“Maybe not tonight.”
Athena studied him carefully. There was exhaustion written into every line of his face. He looked older somehow. Smaller. Like pieces of him had been scraped away one day at a time.
“Okay,” she said softly.
“I just…” Bobby looked down at their joined hands, swallowing hard. “I need a minute, Athena. We need a minute. Just us.”
“You have all the time you need.”
His eyes closed briefly at that, relief flickering across his face.
“And,” he added quietly, almost embarrassed, “I really need a meeting.”
Athena’s expression softened instantly with understanding. Not pity. Never pity. Just understanding.
“I’ll take you,” she said immediately.
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.” Her tone left no room for argument. “I’m still taking you.”
A tiny smile pulled at Bobby’s mouth.
Athena pointed a finger at him. “And I’ll be waiting outside, because you are not staying more than a few feet away from me tonight, mister.”
That earned a real laugh from him. Small and rough around the edges, but real.
“Yes, ma’am.”
—
The drive to the church was quiet.
Not uncomfortable. Just heavy with everything neither of them knew how to say yet.
Los Angeles moved around them like normal. Traffic lights changed. People crossed streets with coffees in their hands. Restaurants glowed with evening crowds. Somewhere, someone laughed loudly through an open patio door.
The world had kept going without him.
Bobby stared out the passenger window while Athena drove, one hand resting on the center console close enough for him to take if he needed it. Every few minutes, her eyes flicked toward him like she was reassuring herself he was still there.
“You okay?” she asked softly at a red light.
Bobby considered lying.
“No,” he admitted.
Athena nodded once. “Okay.”
No pressure to explain. No attempt to fix it. Just acceptance.
God, he loved her.
“There’s an NA meeting starting in about an hour,” Athena said after a while. “I know it’s not your usual group.”
“A meeting’s a meeting,” Bobby murmured.
And right now, he needed one desperately.
The craving hadn’t hit yet—not fully—but he could feel it lurking beneath the surface. Fourteen months trapped in fear and isolation, stripped of control, stripped of hope… his brain remembered exactly how to numb pain like that.
One drink.
One pill.
One moment of relief.
The thought alone made him feel sick.
Athena must have noticed the shift in his expression because her hand found his immediately.
“You’re okay,” she said quietly.
Bobby looked at her.
“I don’t feel okay.”
“You don’t have to feel okay tonight.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “You just have to stay.”
His throat tightened unexpectedly.
Stay.
That he could try to do.
—
The church looked exactly the same.
Bobby stood outside for a moment after Athena parked the car, staring up at the familiar building. Warm light glowed through stained-glass windows, painting fractured colors across the pavement.
Home.
Or at least the closest thing he had ever found to one after Minnesota.
“You want me to come in with you?” Athena asked carefully.
Bobby shook his head after a moment. “I think… I need a second alone first.”
Athena reached up and cupped his face gently.
“Take all the time you need,” she whispered.
Bobby leaned down and kissed her slowly, holding onto the moment longer than necessary.
Just because he could.
When he pulled away, Athena pressed another quick kiss against his lips.
“I’ll be right here,” she promised.
“I know.”
And for the first time in over a year, Bobby actually believed someone when they said they weren’t leaving.
—
The church was quiet when he stepped inside.
The familiar scent of old wood, candle wax, and burnt coffee wrapped around him instantly. Bobby paused near the entrance, suddenly overwhelmed by how much he had missed this place.
Not just the building.
The peace.
The safety.
For fourteen months, every prayer he whispered had been answered by locked doors and silence.
Still, he had prayed.
Because even at his worst, Bobby Nash had never quite figured out how to stop talking to God.
Slowly, he walked down the aisle and slid into one of the pews near the back. The wood creaked softly beneath him.
He exhaled shakily.
Forty-eight hours ago, he’d still been trapped in that facility, sitting on the edge of a narrow cot under flickering fluorescent lights, wondering if this was how the rest of his life would end.
Alone.
Forgotten.
A body useful only for what they could take from it.
Now he sat inside the church that had become his sanctuary after moving to Los Angeles.
Free.
The word still didn’t feel real.
Bobby rubbed a hand over his face before reaching for one of the worn Bibles resting in the pew. The leather cover was cracked from years of use. Familiar.
Comforting.
He opened it randomly, eyes landing immediately on a verse.
Jeremiah 29:11.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Bobby stared at the words for a long time.
Then he laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny. Because after everything that had happened, the verse felt almost impossible.
Hope and a future.
For a while there, Bobby hadn’t believed he deserved either.
Behind him, the side door opened.
Voices drifted into the sanctuary as people began arriving for the meeting. Quiet greetings. Tired laughter. The comforting sound of folding chairs being set up.
Normal.
Beautifully normal.
Bobby closed the Bible carefully and stood, making his way toward the coffee station near the meeting room. The coffee smelled terrible, exactly the way church meeting coffee always did.
He poured himself a cup anyway.
Some things shouldn’t change.
By the time he slipped into the room, people were already settling into their seats. Bobby automatically chose a chair all the way in the back corner.
He wasn’t going to share tonight.
He knew that immediately.
The idea of speaking out loud about what had happened still felt impossible, like trying to touch a wound that hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. But sharing wasn’t required. Sometimes listening was enough.
Sometimes surviving long enough to walk through the door was enough.
Bobby wrapped both hands around the warm coffee cup and tried to steady his breathing.
Then the door burst open.
“Sorry! Sorry, I know I’m late!”
The familiar voice hit Bobby like a lightning strike.
His head snapped up.
Buck hurried into the room, slightly out of breath, his jacket half-zipped and his hair a mess like he’d been dragging his hands through it all evening.
“I’m sorry, I know I’m late,” he said quickly as he slipped through the doorway. “I couldn’t find a babysitter, so I dropped Theo off at the church daycare, but he was a little anxious.” A tired smile crossed his face. “First time and all.”
“No worries, Evan,” the priest said warmly. “We’re just getting started.”
Buck nodded gratefully before moving farther into the room.
And then Bobby stopped breathing.
Buck looked thinner.
Not unhealthy, but worn down in a way Bobby had never seen before. There were dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders, exhaustion in every movement. Still beautiful, still bright somehow, but dimmed around the edges.
Like life had taken a knife to him while Bobby was gone.
Buck dropped into a chair in the second row and bowed his head, folding his hands together.
“God grant me the serenity,” the group began in unison, “to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”
The words crashed into Bobby’s chest.
How many times had he spoken that prayer in this very room?
After the apartment fire.
After relapses.
After losing his family.
After every moment he’d thought grief would finally crush him.
But hearing Buck say it?
Hearing Buck’s voice tremble slightly around the word courage?
It hurt in a way Bobby wasn’t prepared for.
Because Buck was here.
Buck was in an NA meeting.
Buck, who used to wrinkle his nose at the church coffee and joke about the uncomfortable chairs.
Buck, who always swore Bobby worried too much about him.
Buck, who apparently had been drowning while Bobby was locked away somewhere he couldn’t reach him.
Bobby gripped the coffee cup tighter until the cardboard bent beneath his fingers.
“We actually have a milestone tonight,” the priest continued once the prayer ended, smiling toward the second row. “Our Evan has reached sixty days sober.”
Soft applause filled the room.
Buck ducked his head immediately, embarrassed by the attention, but Bobby saw the tiny flicker of pride he tried to hide.
Sixty days.
Bobby’s chest tightened painfully.
The priest walked over and handed Buck a bronze coin.
“You want to share tonight?”
Buck hesitated for a second before nodding.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
He stood slowly, rubbing sweaty palms against his jeans before facing the room.
But not once did he look toward the back.
Toward Bobby.
Because he still hadn’t seen him.
“Hi,” Buck said, voice rough around the edges. “My name is Evan, and I’m addicted to pain meds.”
“Hi, Evan,” the group echoed.
The response sounded wrong to Bobby.
Not because it wasn’t true.
Because Bobby should have been there.
Should have noticed.
Should have helped him before things got this bad.
Buck swallowed hard and kept going.
“A little over two months ago, I was traveling with a friend when we got abducted by this woman who…” He exhaled shakily. “She thought I was her son.”
A few people in the room shifted uncomfortably.
Buck gave a humorless laugh.
“Yeah. Therapy’s gonna love that one.”
A couple quiet chuckles broke the tension.
“In the hospital afterward, they prescribed me narcotics.” His eyes dropped to the coin in his hands. “And at first, it helped. I could sleep again. I could breathe without panicking every five seconds.”
Bobby felt sick.
Because he knew exactly what Buck meant.
“I was also dealing with…” Buck paused. His voice almost broke. “With losing someone really important to me. Someone who was basically family.”
Bobby closed his eyes briefly.
“Oh, kid,” he whispered under his breath.
“So I kept going back,” Buck admitted. “When one doctor stopped prescribing, I found another one. Then another.” Shame crept into his expression. “I told myself I had it under control.”
Every addict tells themselves that.
Bobby knew the lie by heart.
Buck rubbed nervously at the edge of the coin.
“I work around narcotics,” he continued quietly. “And one day I caught myself thinking about stealing medication from a scene.”
The room stayed completely silent.
“And that…” Buck shook his head slowly. “That scared the hell out of me.”
Bobby’s throat tightened.
Because Buck wasn’t crying.
Buck wasn’t dramatizing anything.
He was just… honest.
Raw and exhausted and trying so hard.
“So I got sober sixty days ago,” Buck finished softly. “One day at a time.”
A few people nodded knowingly.
Then, unexpectedly, Buck smiled.
Small. Fragile. Real.
“And three weeks ago, I became a foster parent.”
That got a warmer reaction from the group.
Buck laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s kind of a long story,” he admitted. “I was originally Theo’s sperm donor, but I wasn’t involved in his life before.” Emotion thickened his voice immediately. “His parents—my friends—they died recently.”
Bobby stared at him in shock.
Buck had a child.
Buck had been raising a child while grieving and getting sober and Bobby hadn’t even known.
“He’s four,” Buck said softly, a smile tugging at his lips now. “And he’s obsessed with spiderman and blueberry waffles and somehow wakes up with more energy than a caffeinated golden retriever.”
A few people laughed gently.
“And last night…” Buck looked down, eyes suddenly glassy. “Last night he called me Papa Buck.”
His voice cracked completely on the words.
The room melted around Bobby.
Buck blinked rapidly, embarrassed by his own emotion.
“So yeah,” he whispered. “That’s my reason.”
He looked down at the coin in his palm like it anchored him.
“Some days are really hard,” he admitted. “Some days I still want to numb everything.” His jaw tightened. “But this kid…”
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“I love him so much,” Buck whispered. “And I would do anything for him.”
Bobby’s vision blurred instantly.
Because Buck sounded exactly like him.
Like Bobby talking about his children years ago.
Like Bobby before addiction hollowed him out.
“Thank you for sharing, Evan,” the priest said gently after a moment. “That took courage.”
Buck nodded quickly and sat back down, wiping at his face.
Bobby couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
Buck had suffered.
Buck had grieved him.
Buck had nearly destroyed himself trying to survive it.
And Bobby hadn’t been there.
The guilt hit so hard it nearly folded him in half.
“Would anyone else like to share tonight?” the priest asked gently, glancing around the room.
Someone across the circle started talking—a middle-aged man discussing his fourth week sober after a relapse—but Bobby barely heard a word of it.
His attention stayed fixed on Buck.
On the exhausted slump of his shoulders.
On the way he kept rubbing his thumb over the edge of his sixty-day coin like he needed the reminder that it was real.
Sixty days.
Bobby tried to imagine Buck alone through all of that. Grieving. Addicted. Becoming a parent overnight.
Terrified.
And Bobby knew his station well enough to understand this was probably only the tip of the iceberg.
Because Buck never broke cleanly.
Buck held things together with shaking hands and bright smiles until he finally shattered in private.
How many panic attacks had there been?
How many sleepless nights?
How many times had Hen or Chimney found him spiraling?
How close had Buck actually come to stealing narcotics from a call?
Bobby’s stomach twisted painfully.
He should have been here.
Not locked away in some government facility while his family fell apart without him.
The meeting finally drew to a close with another prayer. Chairs scraped softly against the floor as people stood, murmuring goodbyes and gathering jackets.
Bobby rose automatically, pulse suddenly racing.
He needed to talk to Buck.
Needed to hold onto him and tell him he wasn’t alone anymore.
But before Bobby could move, Buck was already slipping out of the room.
Fast.
Head down.
Like he always did after emotional meetings.
Bobby hurried after him, weaving through clusters of people lingering near the coffee station.
“Buck—”
The word died in his throat as he rounded the corner toward the daycare hallway.
Buck was kneeling on the floor, arms open just as a small boy came barreling toward him at full speed.
“Papa Buck!”
The child slammed into Buck hard enough to nearly knock him backward.
Buck laughed instantly—a sound so warm and genuine it almost hurt to hear—and wrapped both arms around the little boy, pulling him close against his chest.
“There’s my buddy,” Buck murmured, pressing a kiss into the child’s hair. “You have fun?”
Theo nodded enthusiastically before immediately launching into what sounded like a very serious explanation about crayons and dinosaurs and another kid who apparently “didn’t know the difference between a T-Rex and a velociraptor.”
Buck gasped dramatically. “That’s basically illegal.”
Theo giggled loudly.
And Bobby just… stared.
Because the kid looked so much like Buck it stole the breath straight from his lungs.
Same bright blue eyes.
Same expressive face with mischief on his smile.
Same barely contained chaos vibrating under his skin.
It was like looking at a tiny version of the firefighter who had walked into the 118 years ago with too much confidence and a grin that drove Bobby insane within five minutes.
Theo suddenly leaned back in Buck’s arms, hands planted on Buck’s cheeks.
“Papa Buck,” he announced very seriously, “I want waffles.”
Buck laughed again, softer this time.
“You always want waffles.”
“Because waffles are amazing.”
“That’s a fair argument.” Buck shifted him higher on his hip as he stood. “Okay, buddy. We’ll get waffles.”
Theo beamed triumphantly.
Then his gaze drifted over Buck’s shoulder.
Straight toward Bobby.
The little boy blinked once, eyes widening with recognition.
And then a smile spread slowly across his face.
“Look, Papa Buck,” Theo said excitedly, pointing directly at Bobby. “It’s Pops.”
Buck froze.
Completely.
Every muscle in his body locked up.
Slowly—almost fearfully—he turned around.
And finally saw him.
Really saw him.
Bobby stood rooted to the spot a few feet away, emotion clogging his throat.
Buck stared at him like his brain couldn’t process what his eyes were seeing.
Theo, completely unaware of the emotional devastation happening around him, kept smiling happily.
“Hi, Pops,” he chirped, waving.
Bobby’s vision blurred instantly.
Buck’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.
“Buck,” Bobby said softly.
That was all it took.
Buck made a broken sound in the back of his throat before crossing the distance between them in seconds, Theo still clinging to him with one arm.
Bobby barely had time to brace himself before Buck collided with him again.
“You’re alive,” Buck whispered hoarsely, like he still couldn’t believe it. “Jesus Christ, Bobby, you’re here.”
Bobby wrapped his arms around both of them automatically.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered immediately.
Buck shook his head hard against his shoulder.
“No. No, don’t—you don’t get to apologize for this.”
His voice cracked badly on the last word.
Theo looked between them curiously before patting Buck’s cheek.
“Papa Buck?” he asked softly.
Buck pulled back just enough to look at him, wiping quickly at his eyes.
“It’s okay, buddy,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”
Theo studied him carefully in the way children did when they sensed adults were lying badly.
Then he looked at Bobby again.
“You’re really Pops?” he asked.
Bobby let out a shaky laugh through the tears threatening to choke him.
“I guess I am.”
Theo nodded seriously, apparently accepting this immediately.
“Papa Buck talks about you all the time.”
Buck looked horrified.
“Theo—”
“What?” Theo frowned. “You do.”
Bobby felt something in his chest crack wide open.
Buck went bright red, suddenly unable to meet Bobby’s eyes.
“I didn’t…” Buck swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how to stop talking about you.”
For a moment, Bobby couldn’t speak.
Then he stepped closer again, resting a hand gently against the back of Buck’s neck.
“I’m here now, kid.”
Buck’s eyes closed instantly at the words.
And for the first time since Bobby had walked into the church, some of the tension finally left his body.
Not all of it.
Maybe not even most of it.
But enough that he could finally breathe again.
Buck stood close beside him, Theo balanced on one hip while Bobby kept a hand resting lightly against Buck’s shoulder, like he needed the physical reminder that both of them were real.
That this was real.
Together, they made their way outside into the cool evening air.
Athena was leaning against the car waiting for him, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The moment she spotted Buck, her expression shifted into surprise before she checked the time on her watch.
“Oh no,” she said immediately. “Buck, I am so sorry. I completely forgot this was your meeting night.” She grimaced. “I thought you usually went to the eight o’clock one.”
Buck adjusted Theo higher against his side.
“Normally I do,” he admitted. “But Eddie couldn’t watch Theo tonight, and…” He glanced briefly toward Bobby before looking away again. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I figured I’d come to this one since the church daycare is open during this meeting.”
The second Theo spotted Athena, his entire face lit up.
“Nana!”
He immediately launched himself sideways out of Buck’s arms, making dramatic grabby hands toward her.
Athena laughed softly and stepped forward without hesitation, smoothly taking the little boy into her arms like she’d done it a hundred times before.
“Well, hello to you too, handsome,” she said warmly before kissing his cheek. “Did you have fun tonight?”
Theo nodded enthusiastically before turning around in her arms to point directly at Bobby.
“Look!” he announced proudly. “I found Pops in church!”
Athena froze.
Her eyes widened as she looked from Theo to Bobby… then to Buck.
Slowly, understanding dawned across her face.
“Oh,” she said softly.
Buck immediately looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“It’s not—I mean—” He rubbed a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “Theo started calling him Pops after I told him stories about the station and—”
“And apparently I came up a lot,” Bobby added gently.
Buck turned bright red.
Theo frowned at all of them in confusion.
“Because Pops is important,” he explained like this should have been obvious. “Papa Buck gets sad when he talks about him sometimes.”
Silence.
Buck’s face crumpled slightly before he looked away.
Athena’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured.
Theo, oblivious to the emotional destruction he was causing, reached toward Bobby next.
“Pops up!”
Buck huffed out a startled laugh. “Theo, you can’t just demand people carry you.”
“It’s okay,” Bobby said quietly.
And before he could overthink it, he stepped forward and took Theo into his arms.
The little boy settled against him immediately, comfortable in the easy trusting way only children could manage. Tiny arms wrapped around Bobby’s neck while Theo continued talking about waffles like the world hadn’t just fundamentally shifted beneath Bobby’s feet.
But Bobby barely heard him.
Because it had been so long since he’d held a child like this.
So long since he’d allowed himself to imagine having this again.
Family.
Warmth.
Life.
Theo pulled back slightly to study him.
“You’re taller than Papa Buck.”
Buck scoffed immediately. “Traitor.”
Theo giggled.
Bobby smiled despite himself, bouncing him gently. “Just a little taller.”
“A whole little,” Theo corrected very seriously, holding his fingers to show the half inch difference.
Athena laughed quietly beside them, watching Bobby with an expression so tender it nearly undid him.
For the first time since leaving the facility, Bobby didn’t feel like a ghost.
Broken, yes.
Exhausted beyond words.
Still carrying fourteen months of trauma beneath his skin.
But standing there in the church parking lot, with Athena beside him, Buck hovering close like he still couldn’t bear to let Bobby out of sight, and Theo rambling happily in his arms—
Bobby finally felt something dangerous begin to bloom in his chest.
Hope.
Buck glanced at him cautiously after a moment.
“So…” he said quietly, voice still rough from crying earlier. “You really came back?”
Bobby looked at him.
At the exhaustion.
The grief.
The relief Buck was trying so hard not to show too openly.
And Bobby understood suddenly that Buck had already mourned him once.
Maybe every day for the last fourteen months.
So Bobby stepped closer.
“I’m here, kid,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Buck’s eyes filled instantly.
Theo looked between them before smiling brightly.
Bobby laughed before he could stop himself.
Real laughter.
The kind he hadn’t heard from himself in over a year.
And as Theo immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation about syrup ratios and why dinosaur-shaped waffles were scientifically proven to taste better, Bobby found himself simply… marveling at him.
There was absolutely no doubt this child belonged to Buck.
The energy alone was enough proof.
Theo bounced through conversations at the speed of light, changing topics every ten seconds while somehow expecting everyone else to keep up. His bright blue eyes sparkled with constant mischief, and he talked with his entire body—wild hand gestures, dramatic expressions, climbing onto furniture like gravity was merely a suggestion.
Bobby loved every second of it.
It felt like watching a tiny version of Buck before the world had hurt him too badly.
Somehow, the evening ended with all of them at Buck’s place.
Athena explained quietly during the drive that she’d sold the house after Bobby disappeared.
“I couldn’t stay there anymore,” she admitted softly from the passenger seat while Theo sang nonsense songs from the backseat with alarming volume. “Every room just…” She shook her head. “It hurt.”
Bobby reached over immediately, taking her hand.
Buck, driving beside them in his own truck, had apparently moved out of Eddie’s place after the man came back from Texas.
“I snored to much,” Buck joked weakly once they arrived. “Christopher started complaining about his beauty sleep.
Buck’s new place was bigger than Bobby expected, but warm in a way the loft had never quite managed to be. There were toys everywhere. Tiny shoes near the front door. Dinosaur stickers on the refrigerator. A blanket fort half-collapsed in the corner of the living room.
Life.
The backyard was clearly well loved, scattered with plastic trucks and chalk drawings on the patio stones. A firepit with chairs around it, clearly well used.
Theo raced inside immediately.
“Pops, look!” he yelled from somewhere down the hallway. “I have a rocket ship!”
“Indoor voice!” Buck shouted automatically while kicking off his shoes.
“I am using my indoor voice!”
Buck looked exhausted already.
Bobby adored him instantly for it.
“You want coffee?” Buck asked, suddenly awkward again now that they were inside. “Or—I don’t know—we have juice boxes?”
“We?” Athena repeated with a grin.
Buck rolled his eyes. “Theo refuses to drink anything unless I also have one.”
“That’s because sharing is caring,” Theo shouted helpfully from another room.
Bobby smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
Eventually, waffles were made.
Or attempted.
Theo insisted on helping, which mostly involved stealing chocolate chips and somehow getting batter on the ceiling.
Buck looked genuinely horrified when Bobby noticed it.
“That’s been there for two weeks,” he admitted quietly. “I keep forgetting.”
Athena burst out laughing.
Later, after Theo finally settled enough to eat instead of bouncing around the kitchen, they all gathered around the small dining table while Bobby slowly learned everything he’d missed.
Some stories made him laugh.
Others nearly broke him.
“Chim’s captain now?” Bobby repeated in disbelief, clearly expecting it would have been Hen.
Buck grinned proudly from across the table. “Cap actually cried during the ceremony.”
God, Bobby had missed them.
Then came the harder stories.
Hen and Athena’s trip to space.
The autoimmune disease Hen developed afterward.
Eddie and Christopher moving back from El Paso.
Harry becoming a probie.
“That kid walks around the academy like he personally invented firefighting,” Athena said fondly.
“He gets that from you,” Bobby pointed out.
Athena smiled softly at him over the table. “He is claiming to be a legacy,” which made Bobby blush.
Buck also proudly explained how he and Eddie had tied for first place at the Firefighter Games.
“We would’ve won outright if Boston hadn’t cheated,” Buck declared.
Theo gasped dramatically. “Papa Buck, cheating is bad.”
Buck pointed triumphantly at Athena. “See? Even the tiny child knows.” While Athena claimed that she didn’t cheat at game night last week.
“Tiny child?” Theo repeated indignantly before climbing directly into Bobby’s lap. “I’m a big boy.”
“You’re huge,” Bobby agreed solemnly.
Satisfied, Theo leaned against his chest and shoved a drawing into Bobby’s face.
“Look! I made us.”
Bobby looked down at the paper.
It was mostly crayon chaos, but he could make out four smiling stick figures holding hands beneath an aggressively yellow sun.
Theo pointed proudly.
“That’s Gigi,” he explained. “And Papa Buck. And me.” Then he pointed at the tallest figure. “And Pops.”
Something painful and warm twisted in Bobby’s chest.
“You included me?”
Theo looked confused by the question.
“Yeah,” he said simply. “Because you’re my pops, and now you’re back.”
Buck went very still across the table.
Athena quietly looked away, clearly emotional herself.
Meanwhile Theo immediately moved on to showing Bobby approximately seventeen toy dinosaurs and a stuffed octopus named Señor Squishy he got from Tio Eddie.
The kid climbed all over him without hesitation, demanding attention and hugs before sprinting outside into the garden again at top speed.
Buck watched him go with exhausted fondness.
“I know he’s…” Buck huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Connor always said they were Theo’s real parents. And they were.” His expression softened painfully. “But honestly? There’s no denying he’s my kid.”
“There really isn’t,” Athena agreed.
Buck smiled sadly into his coffee.
“A few weeks before they died, they actually came to me asking for advice,” he admitted. “Said they didn’t know how I handled my chaos growing up and thought maybe I had some magical Buck handbook.”
Bobby snorted softly.
“And did you?”
“No,” Buck laughed. “I barely know what I’m doing now.” His eyes drifted toward the backyard where Theo was currently attempting to chase bubbles with a plastic sword. “Most days I’m just trying to keep him alive and emotionally stable at the same time.”
“That sounds like parenting,” Athena said dryly.
Buck smiled faintly, but Bobby could still see the insecurity underneath it.
The fear.
The constant worry that he wasn’t enough.
That part was pure Buck too.
“He’s amazing,” Bobby said quietly.
Buck glanced up immediately.
Bobby smiled warmly. “He’s kind,” he continued. “And funny. And loud.” He laughed softly. “Undoubtedly yours.”
Buck ducked his head bashfully.
“And I already love him,” Bobby admitted.
Buck looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
And something fragile passed across his face—something hopeful and disbelieving all at once.
Like maybe he still couldn’t fully understand how Bobby was sitting here alive, holding his son, smiling at him like none of the love between them had disappeared.
Theo suddenly came sprinting back inside.
“Papa Buck!” he yelled. “Pops said I can have whipped cream!”
Bobby blinked.
“I did not—”
“Traitor,” Buck interrupted immediately, pointing accusingly at Bobby while Theo cackled victoriously. “You’ve been back for six hours and you’re already teaming up against me.”
Bobby held up his hands innocently while Theo dissolved into delighted giggles against his shoulder.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Athena laughed so hard she nearly snorted into her coffee.
Theo pointed dramatically at Buck. “Papa Buck is losing!”
“I am absolutely losing,” Buck muttered, but he was smiling too brightly for there to be any real complaint behind it.
For a moment, Bobby just watched them.
Buck standing barefoot in his kitchen with flour on his shirt and exhaustion beneath his eyes.
Theo bouncing excitedly in his arms, safe and happy and loved.
Athena relaxed at the table, smiling in a way Bobby hadn’t seen in far too long. Lovingly palming Theo’s cheek.
And Bobby realized something quietly devastating.
This was the first time since waking up in that locked facility that he truly felt free.
Not because the doors were unlocked now.
Because he was here.
Home.
—
The next day changed everything.
Not all at once.
Healing never worked like that.
But slowly. Steadily. Like sunrise after a long night.
The team arrived at Buck’s house one by one after Athena finally started answering the increasingly frantic phone calls and texts. Apparently, sending a group text “Bobby is alive.” had caused what Maddie described as “collective emotional instability.” Especially when they weren’t at Athena’s place and it took a little while before everyone realized that they were at Buck’s.
Hen cried first.
Actually cried.
She walked through the front door, saw Bobby standing in the kitchen helping Theo cut strawberries, and immediately burst into tears.
“Oh, come on,” Bobby protested weakly while she crushed him into a hug. “Buck already broke my ribs yesterday.”
“You were dead!” Hen snapped through tears. “You don’t get to complain about hugs.”
“I was not dead.” Stated Bobby, “Merely held against my will.”
“That is not better!”
Chimney cried too, though he denied it aggressively while hugging Bobby for nearly a full minute.
Eddie just stood frozen in the doorway for a second before crossing the room and pulling Bobby into a crushing embrace without a word.
Even Ravi looked emotional.
And then there was Christopher.
Christopher walked in carefully beside Eddie, older now, taller, but still unmistakably himself. The second he saw Bobby, his face crumpled.
“You came back,” he whispered.
Bobby dropped to his knees immediately and held his arms open.
Christopher practically threw himself at him.
“I missed you too, buddy,” Bobby whispered thickly, holding him tight.
Behind them, Buck quietly looked away, overwhelmed.
Theo, meanwhile, was absolutely thriving under the attention of having approximately twelve adults focused entirely on him.
“This is Pops,” he informed Christopher importantly, like this was groundbreaking information. “And he makes even better waffles than Papa Buck.”
“Traitor,” Buck muttered again.
Over the following weeks, life slowly reshaped itself around Bobby’s return.
There were hard moments.
Nightmares.
Panic attacks because he woke up in a bedroom that still didn’t completely felt as his.
Days Bobby couldn’t handle closed doors or fluorescent lighting without spiraling.
There were also lawyers and paperwork and long meetings with federal officials trying to quietly settle the disaster they’d created.
The restitution money ended up being substantial.
More money than Bobby had ever wanted.
Enough that he didn’t need to return to active duty.
At first, the idea of retirement terrified him.
Who was Bobby Nash if he wasn’t a captain?
If he wasn’t running into fires?
But then one morning, Buck stood in the kitchen at six-thirty in the morning looking absolutely exhausted while trying to pack Theo’s lunch, find matching socks, and convince a tiny human that yes, dinosaurs probably needed breakfast too.
And Bobby just… stepped in naturally.
“Go shower,” he told Buck gently while taking over the lunchbox assembly. “I’ve got this.”
Buck looked at him like he’d handed him the world.
After that, it became easy.
Natural.
Bobby officially retired three months later.
And somehow, without ever truly discussing it, he became Theo’s main caregiver whenever Buck worked shifts.
He drove Theo to daycare, Theo stayed with him during the nights.
Bobby learned exactly how to cut sandwiches into “dinosaur shapes.”
He sat through preschool concerts and soccer practices and one deeply horrifying puppet show about dental hygiene.
He learned Theo liked stories before bed but only if Bobby did the voices properly.
He learned Buck cried quietly the first time Theo explained that Bobby “is my gran-pa, he’s married to my Gigi” in front of the entire preschool class without hesitation.
And Bobby learned something about himself too.
He loved this.
Loved the quiet domesticity of it.
Loved getting a second chance at helping raise a child.
Loved watching Buck come home from long shifts and immediately melt the second Theo launched himself into his arms. Filling in Theo’s ramblings about their day.
Loved being the steady presence Buck leaned on without even realizing it.
One evening, almost a year after Bobby’s return, he sat in the backyard helping Theo build an aggressively crooked birdhouse while Buck grilled dinner nearby and Athena was reading her book while drinking a glass of wine.
“Pops?” Theo asked seriously while holding a hammer upside down.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“You’re staying forever, right?”
The question hit Bobby harder than any fire ever had.
He looked over toward Buck automatically.
Buck had gone completely still beside the grill, even Athena looked up from her book.
Waiting.
Theo looked up at him with those impossibly bright Buckley blue eyes full of hope and fear all at once.
Bobby set the hammer down carefully.
Then he reached over and pulled Theo gently into his lap.
“Yeah,” he said softly, emotion thick in his throat. “I’m staying forever.”
Theo smiled instantly, satisfied.
Behind them, Buck quietly wiped at his eyes while pretending the smoke from the grill was bothering him.
Bobby smiled to himself.
Yeah.
Being Pops was definitely his favorite job he’d ever had.