(A 911 Buddie Fic) You Were Made From Scars

Chapter 7

Bobby's hand came to rest on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And you don't have to, not yet anyway. Take your time, it'll come."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Bobby answered, sounding so confident and sure of himself that Buck felt that he could almost believe him. "And in the meantime, why don't you wash up and change? You could come with me to the station today."

That immediately had Buck sitting up and staring straight at Bobby. "And be a firefighter again?"

Bobby chuckled. "Not quite. But you can observe, see if anything feels familiar, and it'll be good for you to get some fresh air."

-.-.-.-

When Eddie had first told Christopher about Buck, he was understanding. He had always been empathetic in a way far beyond his years, but even he was tiring of Eddie's excuses. He had locked himself in his room the night before after Eddie had told him it would take some time before they could see Buck. It was for Buck's own good. But Christopher insisted that Buck should be home.

Eddie had spent the evening listening out in case Christopher decided to take matters into his own hands, and their morning was spent in silence, Christopher replying to Eddie's questions with grunts and one-word answers until Carla arrived to take him to school.

By the time Eddie arrived at work, he was ready for a distraction. He was not ready for the way his heart clenched in his chest at the sound of familiar laughter coming from the loft. He had to stop himself from dropping his bag to go racing up the steps, gripping the strap tighter and forcing his feet to a stop instead. More than anything, he wanted to wrap his arms around Buck and breathe him in, holding onto him forever. But it terrified him, more than he cared to admit, the thought of Buck stiffening beneath his touch before ultimately pulling away.

So, he might have taken his time getting changed, might have sat on the bench in the changing rooms for longer than necessary before he finally worked up the courage to head upstairs to where everyone else was already enjoying breakfast.

"Nice of you to join us, Diaz," Bobby greeted, a pointed look in his eyes suggesting he had clocked Eddie as soon as he had entered the station. He set a plate down on the table for Eddie and poured some bacon onto it before heading back into the small kitchen area, the area Buck was currently standing in, dishcloth thrown over his shoulder as he worked at the frying pan and what Eddie could only assume was eggs.

Eddie awkwardly took his seat, almost missing it entirely, his gaze too lost on Buck. His hair was back to his usual style, though not short enough to lose his curls entirely, and the beard was gone. If it hadn't been for his lack of uniform, Eddie could have quite easily convinced himself that the last few months had simply been one long and horrible dream, because despite Buck's lack of memory, he looked so at home in the kitchen with Bobby.

For a moment, he allowed himself to hope. For that one single moment, he allowed himself to let go of the weight crushing his chest. But then, it was back again, as quick as it left, as Buck claimed the empty seat furthest from Eddie when he and Bobby finally joined them all at the table. Eddie tried to pretend it didn't hurt, tried to school his features and stop the disappointment from shining through in his eyes, but as Hen brushed her hand lightly against his, he knew she saw through him.

She offered him up a sympathetic smile, but Eddie focused on his breakfast instead, becoming an outsider to the conversation that took up the table, unable to force himself to respond. He listened, took it all in, but beyond that, it felt like he was trapped in a bubble, alone and secluded from everyone else.

"I don't know if anyone has told you yet," Chimney said, his words directed at Buck as he straightened his back and shoulders, putting on a smug smile, "but you always said I was the best firefighter around."