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Eddie is shaking by the time he leaves Buck’s apartment, a well-masked and carefully contained ball of hurt and fury.
It’s not that he doesn’t understand Chimney’s own anger, god, of course he does. He was Chimney - he was the man who’s partner and the mother of his child disappeared on him. He’s been scared, and hurt, and angry, and confused too. Eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands.
He knows frustration - he knows fury. He’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you.
But that doesn’t give Chim the right to lay a damn hand on Buck.
He’d bit his tongue around Buck, but he’s not going to do that now.
There’s still a tremor in Eddie’s hands when he knocks on the door. Chim opens it with a hopeful expression on his face that instantly falls away when he sees who’s standing there. He sighs, looking like he wants nothing more than to shut the door back in Eddie’s face. Instead he holds it open wordlessly and let’s Eddie step inside.
“I don’t want to talk right now,” Chim says, hands on his hips and an exhausted look on his face.
“Great, then shut up and listen.”
Eddie can empathise, he really can. But every time he blinks he sees Buck’s face behind his eyelids, a mottled bruise of blue and purple, and an expression so heartbroken that Eddie had wanted to hide from it. So someone needs to tell Chimney that his actions were out of fucking order, and Buck won’t do it so Eddie is going to have to.
“I know, okay? I know what it’s like to have the mother of your child disappear with nothing but a note. I know how it feels to worry about where they are, and what they’re doing, and if they’re okay,” Eddie says.
Chim lets out a false laugh, turns away while waving his hand like he’s trying to swat at a fly. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the fly. And he gets that too - it’s hard to listen to the truth when it’s painful, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear it anyway.
“Buck thought he was doing the right thing.”
“He doesn’t know her like I do,” Chim insists, now pacing the floor as if that will make time go faster.
“You and Buck just know Maddie differently. Not any less or more, just different,” Eddie says. “Buck’s always going to protect Maddie, even if it means keeping things from you.”
That’s probably a hard thing for Chim to wrap his head around, and Eddie can kind of understand why. Because while Chim loves Albert, it’ll never be the way Buck and Maddie love each other. There’s something in their connection, their completely infallible love for each other, that most people won’t ever understand. They were all they had growing up, the only people that either of them could lean on.
Maddie raised Buck into the most wonderful person, and it’s for that reason that Buck will always be loyal to her above everyone else. Chim doesn’t have to understand that, but he does need to accept it.
“What if it was Buck who disappeared? What if he just left, and asked me to keep it from you? What then?”
Chim’s eyes are wide, almost manic as he asks the questions. He looks like a man at the very end of his tether.
“You know that’s not the same,” Eddie says.
“Isn’t it?”
The words floor Eddie; they feel like a punch to the face, and they both know that Chim’s aim is pretty great.
It’s just. It’s not the same, but if it were. If Buck disappeared and Chim didn’t tell him, Eddie knows he’d lose his damn mind too. He knows he’d be absolutely incandescent with rage if anyone ever kept information about Buck’s well-being a secret from him. (Not that he as any right, not really).
But if it was what Buck wanted - what he’d specifically asked for - then Eddie would respect it. And he certainly wouldn’t go hitting people about it.
Eddie takes a calming breath, because he’s mad too but this conversation doesn’t need both of them flying off the handles. Then he shifts into Chim’s pathway and refuses to budge, stopping him in his tracks.
“She needed to leave, Chim. Because if she stayed she would have felt like everyone was watching and judging her, and that’s no environment to heal in.”
Eddie knows what that’s like too. He’s been the one left behind and the one doing the leaving, so he’s uniquely qualified to talk about this. The pressure of never feeling like you’re going to be good enough, the way it feels like everyone is just watching and waiting for you to fuck it all up - he knows that kind of hurt.
“She could have told me! We could have talked about it!”
Chimney explodes, his hands in the air and his face red from yelling. Eddie doesn’t flinch and he doesn’t step back, he just keeps his eyes fixed on Chim. There’s a beat of silence, both of them waiting to hear if the commotion has woken Jee-Yun up. But when there’s no fussing coming from her nursery, Eddie starts to talk again.
“Chim, you know full well that if you’d had this conversation - if you’d looked Maddie in the eyes and asked her to stay - she would have,” he explains. “That’s how much she loves you and Jee-Yun. She would have stayed because you wanted her to, but it wouldn’t have been right for her.”
He knows why Shannon left, why she needed to leave, and it took him a long time but he understands it now. She was a wonderful mother, and her leaving didn’t change that. Just like Maddie leaving doesn’t mean she’s not an amazing mom to Jee-Yun, it just means that she needs a little extra help so she can be the mom that Jee deserves.
It’s hard to see that when you’re in the middle of it - when it feels like your entire life is caving in around you and there isn’t a way out. But Chimney is going to drive himself insane if he doesn’t start seeing the answers that are right in front of him.
“If she loved us she would-“
“-no,” Eddie interrupts. “Don’t even finish that sentence, because we both know you’ll regret the next words that come out of your mouth.”
Chimney knows Maddie loves them, and Eddie knows that’s why it hurts so much. It’s hard to comprehend someone leaving because they love you, because they care so much that they think you’re better off without them.
“We’re both parents, which means we both know how much Maddie loves Jee. Can you imagine how much it would kill you to leave her?” Eddie asks.
“That’s why I wouldn’t do it!” Chim whisper-yells, furious but not willing to to risk waking Jee.
“So now you know how strong Maddie must be. Because that ache in your chest at just the thought of leaving your baby? Maddie is feeling that times a million. She doesn’t want to be away from her, Chim. She wants to get better for Jee.”
Every single second that Eddie was in Afghanistan, a part of his mind was consumed by thoughts of Christopher, his baby, thousands of miles away where Eddie couldn’t keep him safe. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be with his little boy, and yet. There was something deep inside of him that was so afraid, so certain that he would screw it all up, that Eddie didn’t know how to go home.
And when the missing him became unbearable, then the shame set in. The self-loathing crawled up his ribs and out of his throat until he was choking on it, thick and acrid like smoke from gunfire. He’d missed so much of Christopher’s life already that he had no idea how he was supposed to slot back into it.
Eddie knows Maddie will feel that too - the guilt, and the shame, and the anger at herself. And she’ll need Chim to help see her through that.
“You remember when Maddie was pregnant and she needed you, but you were too scared to go home because you thought you’d fail as a parent? That’s before Jee-Yun was even here.”
“That’s not fair - it’s not the same,” Chim says.
Eddie didn’t bring it up to hurt Chim or to make him feel guilty, but just to help him see. Help him understand that whatever he was feeling then, Maddie is feeling now but amplified by a thousand. Because Jee is here, and Maddie loves her so much, and the fear of failure always sits heavy on your chest. Especially when Chim is away from them so often and she’s doing so much of this by herself.
She wasn’t alone, but she still felt lonely.
“Imagine how Maddie feels, thinking she’s failing Jee now. Imagine how she felt, leaving her little girl at the fire station because she was so scared she couldn’t take care of her properly.”
Eddie knows he trying to guilt trip Chimney, but it’s not like what he’s saying isn’t true. And he’ll try anything at this point - for Chim and Jee, but for Maddie and Buck, too.
“I came home, though,” Chim sighs, tired and dejected, and hurting something awful.
“And Maddie will too. When she’s better, when she feels safe. Don’t you want that?”
“What kind of - of course I want that?”
“You’re angry, and you’re hurt, and I get that. But right now you’re thinking about yourself, and about Jee-Yun, and not about Maddie - about what she needs.” About why Buck did what he did.
Chim isn’t a selfish person. In fact, he’s probably one of the least selfish people Eddie has ever met. He’s not angry and hurting because he cares more about himself than about Maddie. But sometimes when you’re too close to a situation, it’s easy for some of the details to get lost.
He’s feeling everything so intensely right now that he can’t look past all of that pain and see the why behind it.
(Eddie knows a little something about being too close to a situation - about missing things that are staring him dead in the face.)
“Choosing to get better - actually taking that step and asking for help? It’s the hardest thing most people will ever do. Maddie was brave enough to do that because she loves you both,” Eddie explains.
And, just like that, all of the fight leaves Chim.
He collapses onto the couch with a broken sob, and holds his head between his hands as he cries. Eddie sits beside him, rests an awkward hand on his shoulder and just stays quiet. Sometimes when you’re hurting you don’t need words of comfort, you just need someone to witness your pain and stay by your side while you feel it.
That’s how Eddie and Buck made it through the weeks after the shooting - when one, or both of them, would startle awake in a pool of hot sweat that felt too much like Eddie’s blood. They’d sit side by side, on the couch or in Eddie’s bed, with the length of their arms pressed so close together that they could feel each other’s ragged breaths. And it didn’t always make the fear go away, but at least they weren’t alone in it.
At least Buck could feel the thrum of Eddie’s pulse in his wrist, too fast but there. Alive. And Eddie could feel the brush of Buck’s fingertips on his skin, too hot but at least not ice cold like the way they always were in his dreams.
Isn’t it? Chim had asked. Eddie can hardly breathe.
“Sorry,” Chim whispers once he’s calmed down.
“I’m not the one you need to apologise to,” Eddie tells him.
Because he hasn’t forgotten the reason he came here. It may have been - understandably - derailed, but Eddie is still pretty fucking pissed at the guy. His pain and anger and confusion is all valid, but that doesn’t give him the right to ever hurt Buck over it.
Not while Eddie’s breathing, anyway.
“I know why you are mad at Buck,” Eddie acknowledges. “Hell, I even understand it. But let me be very clear about this: if you ever lay a hand on him again, me and you are gonna have some problems, Chim.”
Eddie isn’t a violent person - not anymore, and certainly not to the people that he loves. But the people on the very top of that list are his son and Buck, and if Chim thinks Eddie won’t fight like hell for Buck then he’s crazy. Especially when Buck is the most gentle, most kind and loving and sincerely good person that Eddie has ever met.
And Chim knew that Buck wouldn’t fight back, he knew he wouldn’t even think about raising his hand in self-defence. But Eddie has absolutely no qualms about defending Buck, even if he has to do it with his fists. He figures it’s only fair that Chim hears that, just as a warning.
“I just don’t understand how he could keep it from me,” Chimney says.
“You’ve kept things from him for Maddie, too. Don’t forget that.”
He’d kept Buck’s dead brother a secret. Stayed quiet about Buck being brought into this world to save somebody else. Looked Buck in the eyes while knowing the reason his parents never loved him in the way that he deserved, and never said a word. And he did it all because Maddie asked him to.
Both of them would do anything for Maddie. Buck forgave Chim for it, now it’s his turn to forgive Buck.
“I know,” Chimney whispers. “I know, I just-“
He trails off, like he can’t even find the words to express how he’s feeling. It’s a lot, all of it. Just one thing after another, constantly bombarding them as if they haven’t all been through enough.
“You need to stop looking for someone to blame here. It’s not Buck’s fault she left, it’s not Maddie’s fault that she’s sick, and Chim - it’s not your fault either,” Eddie promises.
“What if I did something wrong? What if I didn’t do enough?”
“You did everything you could to help her, and now Maddie is doing everything she can to help herself.”
Chim nods his head and wipes away the tear tracks on his face, then he lets out the breath he must have been holding since the moment he realised Maddie was gone. He looks lighter somehow, like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders - not gone, but just weighing a little less than it was before.
He offers Eddie an apologetic smile, rubbing his hands together like he’s suddenly feeling embarrassed about his outburst.
“I’ll apologise to Buck,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Any time,” Eddie tells him. “I mean it. I’ve been you, and I’ve been Maddie. So if you need to talk about this, then,” Eddie says, finishing with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Yeah. Yeah, thanks Eddie. Seriously.”
Chim offers him a coffee but Eddie declines. They’ve said what they both needed to say and it’s probably best if they give each other space right now - space for Chim to let his new reality settle in, and space for Eddie to work through the dizzying thing his heart is doing in his chest.
He stands up and Chim follows him to the door. It’s only as Eddie is about to leave that Chim speaks again.
“It is the same,” he says. “You and Buck.”
Then the door closes in his face and Eddie is left reeling once again.
He’s drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel as he heads home, tapping out the rhythm to a song he can’t quite place. He’s distracted, is the problem. So distracted that the car behind him has to honk his horn twice before Eddie realises the light has turned green. It’s just - he can’t stop thinking about Chim’s words.
It is the same, you and Buck.
Because no, it’s not the same, not at all. He and Buck, they’re not - they’re not together like that. And it’s not as if they have a kid together like Maddie and Chim do. Except.
Except they do have a kid together. Buck has been Chris’ dad since long before Eddie ever put him in the will. He fought like hell for Chris in the tsunami. He built him a skateboard, and he takes him to doctors appointments, and he helps him with his homework. Buck holds him like Chris is his favourite person in the whole world, and Christopher laughs like no one on earth makes him happier.
They’re a family.
And when Maddie left, it hurt Eddie because it hurt Buck. That bruise on his face stings like Eddie was the one that got sucker punched, because seeing Buck in pain is akin to hurting himself. Eddie came running the second Buck called because - because how could he not?
His stomach is twisting and his heart is beating too fast, but not like the way it used to around Ana. There’s no coil of anxiety licking at the base of his spine or sticking to the roof of his mouth - it’s just a warm, aching tenderness that’s fizzing through his veins. Steady and sure, like everything with Buck always is.
It’s not a conscious decision, but Eddie isn’t surprised when he finds himself standing outside of Buck’s apartment for the second time today. His fist is raised and ready to knock, but he thinks Buck might ignore the door if Eddie gives him the chance.
So instead of risking being left standing out in the cold, Eddie turns his key in the lock and steps inside.
Buck is sitting on the kitchen island and swinging his legs, the ice pack from earlier melting beside him. He freezes when Eddie walks in, his thumb hovering over his phone like he’s just about to scroll. The smile that spreads across his face is easy and teasing.
Buck rolls his eyes as he says, “What did you forget?”
You. You. I forgot you, but never again. Don’t ask me to forget again.
“Oh, uh. Nothing,” Eddie mutters.
Buck raises his eyebrows, and Eddie knows he sounds weird - is acting weird. Buck locks his phone and puts it down on the counter, careful not to place in the condensation that’s pooling underneath the ice pack. He looks back at him and Eddie feels like he’s being consumed, like Buck is a black hole that he will never be able to escape once he’s fallen in.
(Eddie isn’t sure that he would want to.)
“I went to see Chim,” Eddie says.
“Eds - you didn’t?”
Eddie shrugs sheepishly. He knows it wasn’t his place to get involved, but he couldn’t not. Not when Buck was hurting from Maddie leaving, and Chim being mad at him, and the bruise blooming over his eye.
Eddie couldn’t do nothing.
“Listen, I appreciate it, but-“
“No buts,” Eddie interjects. “He had no right. No - stop. Just because he’s hurting, it doesn’t mean he’s allowed to take it out on you. You’re hurting too, Buck.”
“He’s just scared.”
“That doesn’t mean he gets to put his hands on you,” Eddie insists.
“Thank you,” Buck whispers, all soft and shy and endearing, like he can’t believe someone would go out of their way to do something for him without wanting anything in return.
Eddie shrugs again, clears his throat because he suddenly feels emotional for reasons he’s not sure he can put a name to.
“Well. You’ll probably be getting a call from him or something.”
Buck laughs then, his head tilted backwards and his throat exposed, and Eddie just wants to kiss him. It’s not the first time he’s thought that, but it’s the first time he’s actually letting himself want it. He sucks in a shaking breath.
Buck is watching him with that look on his face. That softness in his eyes, the gentle curve of his lips - the look that only Eddie ever gets to see. It makes him feel cracked wide open, vulnerable in the way he only ever allows himself to feel with Buck. It makes Eddie want to reach for him, makes him want to run away.
It’s too much, and not enough, and Eddie can hardly stand it.
“That thing is supposed to be on your eye.” He spits the words out before something else dares to fall from his lips, something like I love you.
Simply because Eddie doesn’t know what else to do with himself, he strides forwards. He takes the half-melted ice pack from where it’s resting on the counter next to Buck’s leg, let’s the condensation drip onto his hand and down his wrist. Then, as gentle as his trembling hands will let him, he presses it to the watercolour of blues and purples surrounding Buck’s eye.
They’re close enough that Eddie can feel Buck’s breath on his face, and it almost makes him dizzy. So slowly that it’s barely noticeable, Buck inches his legs further apart so Eddie can slip into the space between them. His knees are resting against the points just above Eddie’s hips, and they’re touching in so many places that Eddie can hardly see straight.
(He rests his free hand on Buck’s thigh, halfway between his knee and his hip.)
The intensity in Buck’s eyes is too much to bear, but Eddie can’t bring himself to look away either. It’s like they’re caught on the precipice of something new, the energy between them fizzing with something so heavy that Eddie can almost taste it. It would take nothing at all for him to just lean forwards and kiss Buck in the way that he’s never let himself imagine.
He doesn’t have to.
Between one breath and the next, Buck’s lips are pressing against his own as soft as a whisper. Eddie drops the ice pack and cradles the side of Buck’s face instead, tightens his grip on his thigh, tilts his head like he’s begging for more.
But then Buck pulls back, just a fraction, and Eddie misses him instantly.
“Is this okay?” Buck whispers, uncertain.
Eddie kisses him again.
“Yes. Always.”
He seals the promise with another kiss.
It is the same, you and Buck. It is, it is.