Here comes the rain (Buddie) - English

Chapter 12 - Unit leader

TW ! Warning, this chapter deals with sensitive subjects such as war, violence, abuse, sexual assault, death, and suicide, you have been warned - happy reading.

This morning, Eddie didn't have time to have his coffee or eat anything solid. As soon as he returned from the hospital, he escorted Buck back to his apartment, listened to him complain about the boredom he already felt barely arrived, and let him rest.

He returned around midnight; Carla was giggling in front of Desperate Housewives, trying to be as discreet as possible, while sipping on a glass of rosé she found in the fridge.

"I didn't want it to go to waste," she had said when he questioned her from the kitchen, where the remains of the Indian takeout she had brought for his son still sat on the table.

"Your son wanted to eat it all, but I convinced him to leave you some. You must be starving, and I know you haven't had time to sit down for five minutes," she whispered after turning off the TV and joining him in the kitchen.

He thanked her extravagantly, thanking God for putting her in his path, and she didn't miss the chance to remind him that in this case, God was Buck.

"How's the little one?" she inquired. "Already thinking about when he'll go back to work?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, exasperated. Carla chuckled silently.

Eddie offered her another drink, which she declined, explaining that her husband would soon return from his shift, and she wanted to be there when he arrived. So he thanked her again for looking after Christopher, kissed her on the forehead, as usual, and made her promise to come to the next barbecue at the Grant-Nash's. She agreed, on the condition that she could bring widjila.

Eddie didn't sleep much. Carla's departure had woken Christopher, who had slipped out of his room and knocked on his father's door. Despite being almost thirteen, Chris still had a bit of trouble sleeping in an empty house. Now that his father was back, all he wanted to know, at one in the morning, was if his best friend and uncle were okay.

"He's fine. You know how Buck is, he doesn't like doctors. But he still talks a lot, and he's still as annoying," his father smiled, inviting him into confidence.

Christopher laughed, then hugged him before returning to bed to finish his night. Eddie took a shower, long and hot, during which he was conscious half the time.

The other half, he spent thinking about a bunch of things.

His son, Shannon, Marisol, Carla, his rear right tire that he needs to change before the end of December, and the rug in the living room that he's been thinking about moving for some time. Then he thought about his captain, what he should bring to the next barbecue next week at his and Athena's house, and about that promotion he mentioned to him three weeks ago, without anyone knowing. Should he take the exams to become a lieutenant, or should he just stay where he feels comfortable, in his comfort zone? As always, he doesn't find the answer as quickly as he would have liked, and soon his thoughts turn to his best friend, imagining him pacing around his apartment, wondering how to convince his doctor and his superior to let him return to work. He realizes he spent a good half hour under the water when his phone rings, and he rushes out, nearly stubbing his little toe against the edge of his shower and hobbling with his towel to his bed. It's almost one in the morning, and on his phone, it's an Amber Alert that jolts him out of his stupor.

So he spent most of the rest of his night trying to close his eyes, thinking about Jill Rollins, who is missing in Wiltshire County, over three hours' drive from Los Angeles.

So this morning, when he got up to go to the Thursday meeting, he realized he was late when Christopher knocked on his door, past nine-thirty. He was already dressed, had already eaten a stale pancake, a half-opened orange juice that had been sitting for three days, and a bowl of cereal that had lost its crunch.