The Ghosts That You Haunt, a 9-1-1 fanfic

The Ghosts That You Haunt

The first time Evan Buckley died, he was ten.

"Apparently that won me a ticket to ghost town, because I've been seeing them ever since."

Buck can see the recently dead. It's not as glamorous as people might think.

…

The first time Evan Buckley died, he was ten.

He didn't remember the moments before it happened, but Maddie did. She had nightmares about it, she said. There had been a rainstorm—the worst storm in years, the news reported. Lightning had been striking like crazy, with thunder that shook the house. Their parents hadn't been home. There was some get together they were attending.

As kids were wont to do when their parents weren't around, Evan had been trying to get the TV to work so he could watch all the shows they wouldn't let him watch normally. But the storm had been disrupting the signal. Maddie said he had started messing with the wires that plugged into the TV. He hadn't been doing anything dangerous, so she hadn't stopped him.

Then lightning must have struck right next to the house. Everything electronic in the house surged with electricity, shorted out, or blew. And Evan, who had been touching one end of a cord, surged with it.

Maddie had already been in college studying to become a nurse, so she called 911 and then began CPR to try restarting Evan's heart. By the time the paramedics arrived, Evan was conscious again. Even just the next day, it appeared that he had no lasting effects from the shock to his system.

They wouldn't know that something had changed for almost a month, when Evan and his friends hovered around a five-car accident to try and glimpse the dead bodies. Evan would make a comment about how many people had been in the cars, while his friends said there weren't that many. Then Evan would realize that the people standing by the cars were the same people who were lying on the ground surrounded by medics.

That would be the day Evan Buckley realized he could see the dead.

…

Despite months of being at Station 118, Buck had never watched someone die. Most of their calls were for lesser issues. Broken bones. Trapped kids. Loose or stuck animals. The rollercoaster incident was the first time he had had to watch someone die—physically see the moment the life left their body—and been able to do nothing about it.

He had helped with people who had drowned or had heart attacks or car accidents where, for a few minutes, the person was technically dead. No, not technically. Really. They were really, truly dead. He knew they were dead.

He knew it because there were two of them on the scene. One physical. One spiritual.

But he had always been able to do something, to use his medical training and pure force of will to get their spirits back inside their bodies. Sometimes he had to order them to go back, but luckily, no one had ever realized he wasn't talking to the body lying in front of him. Or if anyone thought otherwise, they never brought it up.

When that guy, Devon, fell from the rollercoaster, his ghost stuck around for a week.

He wasn't there all the time and Buck assumed that was when he was with his family, but he visited Buck a lot. Most of it was him standing around apologizing to Buck and trying to explain why he'd done it, apologizing and saying he never thought about what his death would do to the people who had tried to save him, apologizing, apologizing.

It was better than the ghosts who threatened and cursed, but it made the guilt Buck felt worse. If he'd been better, done more, then Devon wouldn't have to know the pain his family was going through, wouldn't be apologizing so much.

Devon stuck around until his sister came to talk to Buck at the station. Before she left, Devon did something he had never done before. He thanked Buck for trying to save him. Though Buck never saw him move on, he also never saw Devon again, so he had to hope it had happened later.

…

Buck saw Chimney's ghost.

It was in the hospital while he was in surgery for the rebar that went through his head. There were always ghosts in hospitals and it took Buck a minute to realize that he recognized the ghost who had wandered into the hallway beside the waiting room.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna go walk," Buck muttered, rubbing his eyes. No one looked up as he left the room.

"Buck," Chim called as Buck passed by. "What—What's happening here?"

With a quick check that no one could see him from the room and no one was coming down the hall, Buck looked Chim in the eyes. No one had come to tell them about Chim dying, so that meant there was still a chance for him. This didn't have to be permanent. Buck wouldn't let it be.

"You're in surgery," Buck told him. "You gotta go back into that room and—"

"Wait wait wait," Chim interrupted, waving his hands around like that would stop Buck's words. "What are you saying? Buck." His face went slack with fear. "Am I…Am I dead?"

Buck shook his head. "No. Not—Not necessarily? Your spirit's left your body, that's all. Chim. Chim," he snapped when Chim started to fizzle at the edges. When he was solid again, Buck said, doing his best to channel Bobby, "You need to go back to that surgery room, and you have to go back into your body. You hear me? You fight. You hold on." His voice shook and he couldn't stop it. "No matter what's pushing you out, you stay in. Got it? Don't let this kill you." Chim nodded and Buck pointed down the hall toward surgery. "Now go."

He waited until Chim had disappeared through a set of double doors before he let himself start to cry. Because while seeing a ghost didn't have to mean they would stay dead, he didn't know what he would do if Chim didn't make it through this. This wasn't some random person. This was his family. Chim had to make it through this. He had to survive.

…

Chim did survive. The first time he and Buck spoke one-on-one, Buck had been certain Chim would bring up the fact that Buck had seen him as a ghost, but it didn't happen. He didn't remember it.

Buck wasn't sure if he was more relieved or disappointed.

…

Being able to see the dead came in handy as a firefighter. During the plane crash, he was able to learn that Dale Marks was dead before checking the body bags. It wasn't the news Abby had wanted to hear when she asked, but it was quicker and easier for Buck that way than having to see the man's dead body would have been. That night, Buck spent hours after getting off shift just helping the dead come to terms with the fact that they were, well, dead. He'd never been so exhausted.

During the building collapse in the middle of a Hindu wedding, he knew the bride wasn't dead yet because he couldn't see her spirit anywhere. There were plenty of ghosts wandering around, but she wasn't one of them. In fact, one of those ghosts was the one that pointed Buck in the right direction to find her.

It was times like that when Buck was glad he had his ability, when it led to saving lives.

…

The second time Buck died, it was Valentine's Day and he was twenty-six. From that experience, he gained a ton of embarrassment, a scar on his neck, and one more thing he had to hide.

He was in the bathroom in the hospital when his eyes started to burn. Not painful, but like he was about to start crying. Buck looked in the mirror, but instead of red, irritated eyes, he saw that the bright blue of his irises had shifted to a vibrant, brilliant gold.

"Oh no," he breathed out.

That wasn't something he could hide. It didn't hurt, and there was no medical explanation for suddenly golden eyes, so he wasn't afraid he was dying again. No, he knew it had to be some new freaky power thing, just like the last time he died.

An old lady wandered through the wall of his bathroom. As soon as she saw him in his hospital gown, she gave a shocked little gasp, apologized, and walked back through the wall. Twenty seconds later, Buck's eyes stopped burning and reverted to their normal blue.

Buck put his elbows on the sink, dropped his head, and ran his hands through his hair. "Great." He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, like he could talk to God if he just looked high enough. "What's the purpose of this? How exactly does this help me, huh?" He didn't get an answer, and honestly it would've spooked him if he had, but still.

He ordered blue color contact lens before he was even discharged from the hospital.

…

There were other times when Buck wished he couldn't see the dead. Like when terrible people died because of their own terrible behavior—blowing up a tree, not fixing a tanning bed, pissing off a tiger. Those spirits were not remorseful. They weren't sad. They were angry.

Buck had been seeing ghosts for sixteen years. In that time, he had learned one very important truth.

Ghosts could not hurt you.

They might make you shiver or raise the hairs on your skin, cause a feeling of dread or being watched, but they could not touch anything in the physical world. They couldn't attack people or move things. A ghost could not harm a living person.

That didn't stop Buck from flinching away when a ghost with heat boils and pustular skin took a swing at him. It was human nature to flinch when something came flying toward you. But that meant he got to endure three days of yelling and complaining and cursing from a very pissed off ghost before he finally managed to get the asshole to walk into the light.

Bobby spent those three days asking if Buck was alright, and nearly gave him light duty for a day, because the ghost kept waiting until Buck was distracted to take a flying leap or shout in his ear or something else that made Buck jump or drop whatever was in his hands.

There were definitely times when Buck didn't like his gift.

…

Buck had never told any of his boyfriends or girlfriends about his ability. He had told Maddie and he had told one of his friends that saw the car crash. Both had left him shortly after. Though Maddie at least kept in touch, and eventually became his confidant of sorts while he learned to handle his gift, the friend never talked to Buck again and became his biggest bully.

He wished he had told Abby.

She was the best relationship he had ever had, and he honestly thought they'd be together forever. Of course, he hadn't always thought that, but the longer he was with her, the more he grew as a person. The more he learned about what it took to maintain a real relationship, to be someone's life partner rather than just someone to have sex and fun dates with.

He knew her mother was dead before she did. Patricia Clark appeared in his bedroom at five twenty-six in the morning, just before Buck's alarm clock was set to go off. For the first time since Buck had met her, her mind was clear.

"Help Abigail," she begged him. "I can't be the person who helps her, who cares about her, anymore, so I need you to be that person in my place. Stand by her."

And Buck would try. God, would he try. He loved Abby. Even if her mother hadn't personally asked him, he would have stood by her through this loss, through anything.

He tried to be that person even long after Abby left him standing outside the airport and flew halfway around the world. Without him. Her mother's spirit went with her, without looking back.

…

Buck didn't like Eddie at first. He was so effortlessly gorgeous, seamlessly fit into the team, and brilliantly competent. He had skills that Buck could never hope to have. Skills that actually helped on calls, rather than just seeing the dead and having color changing eyes.

By the end of the first shift, though, none of that seemed to matter. Eddie thought he was a badass. Him. Buck.

It also turned out Eddie had been following the 'fake it til you make it' mindset, pretending to be more confident and cool-headed than he really was, because he wanted to fit in. That also helped take the edge out of their relationship.

It would become the most important relationship of Buck's life, but he didn't know that yet.

Even, in many ways, more important than the relationship Buck had with his sister Maddie, who had also bulldozed back into his life after three years of radio silence. At first he'd been pissed, because she just up and ditched him, but once he understood the situation better, it was as easy as breathing to forgive her.

It took three days for him to tell her about the new eye color changing part of his gift.

"Oh, maybe if you die a third time, you'll be able to phase through things like Danny Phantom," she teased.

Buck scoffed. "Oh yeah, cause that's what I need in my life. To become a Nickelodeon cartoon."

In all seriousness, though, Maddie forbade him from dying a third time. Third time was the charm, after all, and they didn't need to test if that would mean he wouldn't be coming back at all the third time.

"I'm not planning on it, Mads. I like being alive. Besides, I just got you back in my life. I'm not about to leave now."

"Good," she said, reaching over to pat his knee. "I prefer Melinda Gordon to Danny Phantom, anyway."

…

When the earthquake hit and Eddie was worried about his son, Buck's skill came in handy. No seven-year-old boy was hanging around Eddie, so he could tell Eddie with confidence that his son was okay. He could recite safety facts and repeat, as often as necessary, that Eddie's son was fine, he was safe, Eddie. His confidence in that fact seemed to help Eddie stay calm more than any of the actual words coming from Buck's mouth.

Arriving at the damaged hotel, they were told the numbers. Twelve hotel employees were missing and some unknown number of guests. By the time the full situation had been explained to them, Buck could account for eight of the employees and five guests.

The saddest part was that they didn't know. They were wandering around just like everyone else, bewildered and shaken and looking to the first responders to make everything okay again. If things were different, if there weren't so many people around and so much to do, so many people left to save, Buck would have gathered them up to explain it to them, would have done what he could to reassure them, to end their pain. But he couldn't.

"Here's how you make it to the end of the day," Bobby told them. "You don't worry about the things you can't do anything about. You focus on one task at a time."

So he and Eddie got to work.

They climbed through the building like a giant gymnasium. Twice, the ghost of a dead person jumped out at Buck, seeing their uniforms, begging to be saved, only to break into wails of terror when they passed right through him. Each time, Buck had to recollect himself, and each time, Eddie asked if he was okay.

"I'm good," Buck forced out. "Let's keep going."

Eventually they found their way to the room where the guy was pinned to the window. Buck worked with the young lady while Eddie worked with the older guy. Then the aftershock hit, the window broke, and the CEO guy fell nine floors to his death.

Only to immediately reappear inside the room. For all he'd been a bad person in life, he was sharper than most ghosts. He immediately recognized he was dead and started shouting at Eddie for letting him die. For going after the pretty young bitch instead of the one who deserved saving the most. He hurled racist slurs at Eddie and sexist ones at the woman, even as they dangled out the same window he had fallen from.

The stress of the situation, the emotional toil of the dead wandering around, the threat of the building collapsing, the burden of being the only thing between Eddie and that lady and death, already had Buck on a thin line. The burning in his eyes and the cursing and the slurs broke him.

"Okay, enough!" Buck shouted. "Shit, we've got enough problems already! You're dead! You're dead so just move on! Or be pissed off somewhere else, but goddamn it you're not what's important right now!"

Eddie called back to him, asking what he was talking about, but Buck didn't answer. The weight of him and the lady were pulling on Buck enough that he worried he couldn't hold them. He had to hold them.

Amazingly, the ghost listened. His face went slack, though from shock or fear or what, Buck wasn't paying enough attention to know. Then he fizzled out and vanished like so much smoke. It wasn't moving on, but it was out of the way, so Buck would take it.

Almost as soon as Eddie and the woman were safe, the radio crackled to life. "Buck? Buck, do you see Hen?"

"What?" Buck gasped out, still catching his breath. He pressed the call button on the radio. "I thought she was with you?"

"Just answer the question, Buck," Bobby ordered.

Eddie and Buck shared a look of confusion, glanced both ways down the hallway they were in, and then shrugged at each other. "No, Cap. No Hen. What's going on?" Buck asked.

For a few long seconds, there was no answer. Then, "I'll explain later. What's the situation with you and Eddie?"

Shortly thereafter, Bobby put out an all call through the radio. Everyone checked in except Hen. Hen was missing, which in such a situation meant she might be dead.

And Bobby had asked Buck if he'd seen her. Not Buck and Eddie. Buck. Shit. Did that mean he knew? How long had he known? How much did he know?

Only Eddie saying, "Let's keep moving" staved off a full-blown panic attack. He met Eddie's eyes, who stared back at him just as intensely. Those eyes calmed him, reminded him of where they were. They were at work. They had a job to do. They had a woman to save.

"Okay," Buck managed, and pushed himself off the wall.

It helped that, only a few minutes later, Buck saw the ghost of a firefighter from the 221, name 'Russel' on the back of his jacket. Like the CEO, he immediately recognized that he was dead. "And Hen tried so hard to save me," he muttered.

Before Buck could do more than gasp, "Wait," he had moved on.

But that meant Hen was alive, so Buck did his best to focus on the task at hand. Saving Ali.

The two of them saved a hotel employee who would likely never walk again and got themselves and Ali out of the building. Then they went right back in to help Bobby and Chim move the rubble of the parking garage to get Hen and a little girl to safety.

…

"So how much do you know?"

Bobby looked up from the lunch he was cooking, to Buck leaning back against the counter. He was supposed to be helping with the cooking, using it as one of their cooking lessons, but Buck couldn't focus on proper knife cuts and how long to stir fry something when his mind kept flashing back to Bobby's voice on the radio.

"I know a lot of stuff, Buck. You'll have to be more specific," Bobby evaded.

Crossing his arms, Buck ducked his chin and mumbled, "What you said on the radio…in that hotel…about Hen." He kicked aimlessly at the floor to try and rid himself of the jitters running through his body, but it didn't really help.

The stove clicked when Bobby turned it off. Lunch wasn't done, which meant Bobby was going to give Buck his full attention. After a glance around the loft to be sure no one was around, Bobby sighed and met Buck's eyes again.

"I'm a very religious man," he reminded Buck and got a nod of understanding in return. "When we die, some of us are going up and some of us are going down. That's just how it is." He shrugged one arm. "But that doesn't mean there isn't a time between here and there, a few minutes, a few days if we hang on hard enough, when we aren't ready to go where we're meant to go."

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. "You're saying you believe in ghosts?"

Bobby gave another shrug and glanced around again, then leaned in just a bit. "I've heard you talk to some of the people we save. At first I thought it was just you yelling at the world, not willing to lose anyone. But then I saw you one day. You weren't looking at the body, even while you were giving compressions. You were looking passed everyone, telling that kid to get back where he belonged, to stay, and I knew…I knew you were looking right at him, talking to something real. And maybe I couldn't see it, but you damn well could."

If Buck didn't have his arms crossed, he was sure his hands would be shaking. His voice sure was. "A-and you—You don't find it…freaky? Unnatural or—or creepy?"

"Do you?" Bobby asked in turn.

Buck ducked his head. "Honestly? Sometimes…yeah. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just crazy and no one's diagnosed it yet, you know?"

"There are a lot of things you are, Evan Buckley," the full name had Buck looking up again, "but crazy isn't one of them. At least not because you can see spirits."

Bobby's tease made Buck laugh, surprised at the levity. With a smile, Bobby clapped Buck on the shoulder. It was comforting and welcoming and said 'everything's gonna be okay.' And then they went back to cooking lunch before the alarm could interrupt them again.

Weeks later, after the Taylor Kelly incident and the accidental LSD trip, Bobby would ask Buck a question. He wouldn't get it fully out of his mouth—he couldn't. But Buck knew what he wanted. And it would be with confidence and honesty that Buck would shake his head and say, "No. No, they're not here, Bobby. They moved on a long time ago. Long before I could ever meet them."

…

Jobs were a little different after that first talk with Bobby. The usual job, the non-deadly kind, were the same. But if someone died, Bobby always found some way to leave Buck behind for a few minutes on the scene. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Buck to offer the departed a little bit of comfort. He didn't have to just walk away from someone in distress, even if they were already dead.

Bobby had said to never go beyond the glass doors. Once they passed the victims on to the hospital staff or the police, their job was over. There was no glass door for the dead. There was something Buck could do for them even when their time was up. And Bobby let him do it.

Most of the time, he just explained how the moving on process worked, as best as he knew. If there were loved ones who had survived, he encouraged the dead to stick around for a little while, to say goodbye. But he always assured them that, even if their loved ones were in pain from the loss, they would be okay. This was bad, it was awful, but everything would be okay.

Then he would hurry to catch up with his team, carrying whatever item Bobby had sent him back for or with whatever piece of information Bobby supposedly needed Buck to check on. And it was nice. It was really nice, to have someone know, to have someone in his court, other than his sister.

…

Speaking of Maddie. She was moving out.

"I'm just a phone call away if you ever need me," she assured him. "Or, my apartment is only like fifteen minutes away. I'm not going anywhere."

It still took Buck a few days to come to terms with the fact that she was leaving. She was the only person other than Bobby who knew about his gift, who didn't judge him for it. She knew about his golden eyes when even Bobby didn't.

"Maybe you need more people who know your secret," she suggested the night before she left. "Someone you can talk to."

Buck scoffed. "Oh yeah? Who? A therapist? I tried that before, it's not my thing."

That earned him a glare. "You're not crazy, Evan." She shoved her feet into him from her side of the couch, to dispel some of the negative vibe he was giving off. "I meant…a friend. Someone you trust."

The first person to come to mind was Eddie, but Eddie had enough on his plate. Besides, the last time Buck told a friend about his gift, that friend turned on him. He loved Eddie and Christopher too much to risk losing them if Eddie didn't believe him.

…

Buck kind of hated working on Halloween. It wasn't cause of the stupid stuff people got up to, but because all those religions that said the days around Halloween were when the spirits of the dead could come back to the world of the living…?

They were kind of right.

It wasn't that Buck was freaked out by the extra ghosts. He'd had sixteen years to get used to it. It was just…overwhelming. Imagine living in an already crowded city and suddenly the population is, like, double. On more than one occasion over the years, Buck had gotten into a conversation with someone only to realize too late they were one of the ghosts, not a living person, just because there were so many of them around.

Since the golden eyes thing, there was no way he could mistake that someone was dead. But on Halloween? With all the ghosts around? Buck's eyes wouldn't stop burning.

"You alright?"

Someone asked him that every hour, every time he rubbed his eyes to try and make the warmth go away. It never did.

"Fine. Allergies or something, you know?"

…

The Abalone Cove rescue was a perfect example of how the days around Halloween screwed with Buck. He and Eddie repelled down the cliff side to find the hiker who had called 9-1-1 and found skeletal remains.

"You think a ghost called 9-1-1?" Eddie asked dubiously.

"I'm just saying," Buck said. Ghosts might not be able to touch the living world, but the electrical waves that made up their telephones? He'd encountered weirder.

Then they found Ian, and for a minute Buck thought Eddie was right. No ghost had called for help. But just when he let his guard down—

"Finally!"

Buck jumped away from the ghost that appeared beside him, nearly falling off the rock he, Eddie, and Ian were on. Only Eddie grabbing his arm kept him up. "Shit, man."

"I've been calling every time I come back. It finally worked. Thank God in Heaven," the ghost, a young Hispanic guy wearing hiking gear and with a tattoo just peeking out of the collar of his shirt, said. Tears were running down his face, but he was smiling.

"Buck, you good?" Eddie asked, looking between Buck and where Buck's eyes were staring, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Yeah, I'm good," Buck muttered. "You're good too," he said to the ghost, who began to cry harder and hid his face in his hands, then turned to look at Ian on the ground. "You're good, man."

If the look Eddie was giving him meant anything, he didn't believe Buck was 'good' at all. Luckily, saving Ian kept his attention elsewhere, and by the time they had a moment of downtime, he seemed to have forgotten all about it.

…

The hiker ghost was Alex Armando Perez. Buck passed the info on to Bobby, who, when Athena mentioned the guy's ring had initials on the inside, suggested maybe the 'P' was 'Pacheco' or 'Perez.' There were a lot of Hispanic guys on the force, nothing strange about it. They weren't sure if Athena passed the suggestions on when looking into who the bones might belong to, but she did find his records, and his wife finally got closure on his disappearance.

…

The problem with seeing all the ghosts on Halloween was that it made Buck think. These were spirits that had moved on, but who kept coming back to the world of the living because there were still people there that they missed, there was still something there they had left behind.

The first time Buck died, he was ten.

The second time Buck died, he was twenty-six.

Sitting in Abby's apartment, surrounded by furniture and books and stuff that didn't belong to him, where he could look in any direction in any room and not see himself in any of it…It made him wonder if maybe one of those times had stuck.

He could interact with the physical world. He could have conversations with people and they looked at him and they saw him and they spoke to him. He wasn't dead. But the longer he sat in that apartment, trying to fulfill a promise to a dead woman to stand by her daughter, to stand by this woman he loved but who had left him behind in almost every possible way…the more he felt like a ghost. Like he wasn't real. Like he was just a memory, coming back to the world of the living from time to time to interact with those he'd left behind.

So he moved out. He had to leave or risk becoming his own ghost story.

…

Bobby knowing about Buck's ability meant that he could actually use it on the job. 'Use it' meaning 'He could verify if someone was alive or dead even if they couldn't reach the person to check for a pulse.'

The Just Married couple was a great example. Eddie could reach into the car to verify that the bride was alive and breathing, but the tree kept them from reaching the groom. Bobby sent that information up top to Chim and Hen, then turned and said, "Buck?"

Buck shook his head. "Nothing yet, Cap," he said quietly, before turning and shouting into the car to try and get a response from the groom.

Throughout the rescue, Bobby visually checked with Buck on the status of the victims. But Buck's eyes weren't warm. There weren't any ghosts around.

And then there were Mitchell and Thomas.

As soon as the team arrived, Buck knew it was too late. Thomas was crying into the phone with 9-1-1 and begging Mitchell to hold on, and Mitchell's ghost was standing beside him, trying so hard to comfort Thomas and yet failing and growing more distraught by the minute.

"Bobby," Buck gasped as soon as they were out of the truck. He couldn't tear his eyes away, but when he knew Bobby was looking at him, Buck shook his head.

Bobby put him in charge of watching Thomas, who told Buck about his life with Mitchell and how they lived together and wanted to die together. Mitchell knelt in front of him, tried to hold his hands, and apologized. It was hard to watch. Buck's chest ached. His own relationships fell apart around him left and right and here were these two who had made it work for decades, through all kinds of hardships, and a stupid accident had ended it.

When Thomas asked for a moment alone to say goodbye to Mitchell, Buck allowed it. Of course he did. But then Mitchell gasped, "Thomas!" Buck's head snapped up to see both old men standing beside the bodies lying on the ground.

"No." Buck hurried over, calling for Bobby and Eddie, and started compressions. "No, Thomas. No. Come on. Don't do this."

"It's okay, son," Thomas said, though his eyes didn't leave his husband's. "We want to go together."

"But you can't just—," Buck cut himself off.

Was it selfish to want Thomas to live, when he so clearly wanted to go with Mitchell? When they were so in love that the thought of living without the other was enough to steal the life from them?

Bobby and Eddie tried to tell Buck it was too late, but he didn't let up until Mitchell and Thomas moved on together, until their spirits left the world as one.

…

Other than Bobby using Buck as a ghost detector, and giving him time with the dead after bad calls, Buck's life felt pretty normal for a while. He was sleeping on an air mattress in his sister's apartment after being kicked out of his coworker's house after leaving his ex-girlfriend's apartment, but other than that.

He did good work with the fire station. He saved people. And when not on the job, he spent his time with Eddie and Christopher. He would have spent more time with Maddie, but she spent most of her free time with Chim. It didn't bother Buck too much. They ate breakfast and dinner together whenever they were both free and an evening in together was a semi-regular occurrence. But it was still true that a lot of Buck's free time went to the Diaz house rather than Maddie's apartment.

And boy did he love that Diaz house. It didn't matter if he was helping Christopher with his homework—and getting teased for his lack of math skills by both father and son—or building stuff with Legos or watching TV or reading a book aloud together or playing a board game. Buck jumped into afternoons with the Diaz boys with his whole heart. On the rare occasion, Eddie even left Buck there with Christopher alone while he had a shift they didn't share or while he went on errands that were a lot faster without a child along for the ride.

It felt like he'd been accepted as part of the family, and considering how absent his own parents had been in his upbringing, Buck couldn't be more grateful.

It wasn't until Christmas that Buck realized it wasn't just gratefulness and acceptance that had his whole body warming in Eddie's presence. Not until he learned Eddie's estranged wife might become part of his and Christopher's lives again. Not until an elf referred to Christopher as their son, not just Eddie's but Eddie-and-Buck's.

Ghosts, Buck could handle. Realizing that apparently he had gone and fallen in love with his best friend? Catastrophic. Devastating. Calamitous. World-Ending.

The worst part was that he couldn't pinpoint when it happened. When had he gotten over Abby and gotten into Eddie? Maddie had been teasing him about his 'boy crush' on Eddie since practically day one. Was it day one? Was it when Eddie called him a badass?

Was it when he saw Eddie with Christopher for the first time, and watched them smile at each other, and felt the pressure in his own chest release, knowing they were safe together? Was it before or after he introduced Eddie to Carla? Was it while they were dosed on hallucinogens and the world sparkled and Eddie glowed like a star and his voice was like soft blankets? Did it happen on a call, with the adrenaline pumping and them trusting each other instinctively? Or was it during downtime in the station or hanging out with Chris at home, when things were calmer and Eddie smiled and his shoulders lost the tension he always carried with him?

He had only been moved out of Abby's, had only officially stopped waiting for her, for two months. Did his heart wait until after Halloween to move on to Eddie, or had he been Eddie's even while he was clinging to the shadows of his past?

And did it matter? No. It didn't. It didn't matter because Eddie was getting back with his wife. Eddie was married, even if they were estranged. Buck 1.0 had been a lot of things, but a homewrecker wasn't one of them. Buck 2.0 definitely wouldn't come between Eddie and his wife. That wasn't who he was.

He would just have to be okay with being Best Friend Buck. Did it count as being left behind if the person was still around, just always out of reach?

…

Buck gave a wolf whistle down at Chim after he and Maddie kissed in the station. To his right, Bobby was clapping, and to his left, Eddie was acting out his own Shakespeare monologue on mute and Hen was cheering.

It was good to see his sister so happy and moving on with her life after the awful that was Doug, and Chim was a good man. Buck was happy for them.

"So, Saturday," Eddie said, clearing his throat after their antics.

"Is a day," Buck agreed, grin widening at Eddie's 'shut up' look.

They made for the couches and the TV while Hen headed for the fridge and Bobby went downstairs. "It's our day off. Wondered if you wanted to come over."

Buck plopped down on the couch and grabbed for the remote. "Of course. You know I wouldn't pass up a chance to hang with you and Chris."

Beside him on the couch, Eddie pulled on the cuffs of his uniform like he was nervous. "Actually, Chris is gonna be spending the day with his mom." He cleared his throat. "Figured we could make it a day too."

Buck fumbled the remote and it clattered to the floor. "Wh—Huh? You aren't…gonna spend the day with them?"

With a shrug, Eddie leaned back into the couch. "It's a mom and son day, you know? Get reacquainted and all."

Never had Buck seen Eddie so nervous before. Letting Shannon back into their lives was taking a toll on him. With the best comforting smile Buck could manage, he clapped a hand on Eddie's shoulder, dragging Eddie's eyes to his own. "I would love to spend the day with you."

The alarm interrupted them before they could make any concrete plans, but that was fine. They had a few days. And sure, they would probably spend it watching TV and drinking beer or something, just a guys' day in, but a giddy part of Buck couldn't help but classify it as a date. Just the two of them, spending a day together.

…

Saturday didn't happen. Because Friday did.

"Friday" was Buck coming home after having dinner at Eddie's, knowing Maddie would be eating out with Chim later, to find Chim bleeding out in the courtyard of Maddie's apartment complex and Maddie kidnapped by her ex-husband.

"Friday" was no one listening and all those stupid rules cops had to follow and Maddie was gone, with Doug, who had said he would kill her—

If Maddie's ghost showed up in front of Buck, he didn't know what he'd do. If Maddie's ghost showed up and Buck had just sat by and done nothing—

"You aren't going to see her unless she's physically in front of you, Buck."

That's what Bobby kept telling him, but it wasn't enough. All the way to the hospital, Bobby kept asking about Buck's gift and ghosts. Did ghosts always appear right where they died or did they sometimes show up by loved ones? Could they disappear and reappear wherever they wanted or did they have to travel like regular people? Did seeing a ghost mean that person was dead forever or could it be temporary? And it all led back to the same idea: Maddie wasn't dead.

Yet.

Even Eddie couldn't pull him out of his head. And then Athena was taking him with her—not to arrest him for tampering with evidence, but to put him to use. To find Maddie.

So Saturday with Eddie, the sort-of date, never happened. For Buck, Saturday was spent driving all around the state looking for his sister and dreading that when he next saw her, it would be her ghost and not her body he was seeing. He almost lost it when they pulled into the gas station and his eyes started to burn, but it was the gas station attendant, not Maddie. But it could've been. What if the next ghost he saw was her? What if—

But it wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't. It wasn't.

He found Maddie. She was hurt, and he never wanted to let her go, ever, but she was alive.

"I didn't give up," she gasped into his shoulder. "I didn't give up." Like a mantra that was keeping her going.

"You did so good," he told her, holding her close while the medical evac team closed in on them.

In the back of the ambulance, Maddie held his hand and apologized. "I didn't want you to see me," she whimpered. "I didn't want to do that to you."

Buck's eyes burned, but with tears not power, and he gripped her hand tighter. "And you didn't. Mads, you survived."

They were both a mess of tears by the time they got to the hospital.

…

Buck felt Sonia Moss die before her eyes rolled up in her head. Her ghost rode with him, Eddie, her husband, and her new baby in the back of the firetruck while Hen did everything she could with Bobby in the ambulance to save her life.

"Is the baby okay?" she wept, her hands fluttering over the newborn anxiously.

"Your baby is fine," Buck said, not lifting his eyes. "You're baby is great."

"But what about my wife?" asked Robert Moss, his voice almost as teary as his wife's.

Buck kept his eyes on the baby. "Your mom is a fighter. Your mom is gonna stay right here, where she belongs. Alive. With you and your dad." He looked up, over Robert's shoulder, to what anyone else would think was the door of the truck, and met Sonia's eyes. "She's not going anywhere. You hear me? Nowhere."

Sonia wept harder. "I don't know if I can," she admitted. "I don't know how."

Buck's stomach clenched. "Figure it out."

But when they arrived at the hospital, the staff called her death and Sonia collapsed to the pavement beside her husband. Buck stared at her and wished the burning in his eyes meant something. That maybe, if he focused hard enough, he could give that warmth, that golden light, to someone who needed it. He stared at Sonia and willed her to live, even past the point of all hope.

Then Robert placed their baby on her chest and Sonia gasped. "I—I can feel him. I can—" She looked at Buck with wide but determined eyes. "I think I know how to do this." And she sounded surprised by herself. Buck nodded back to give her courage.

Then, instead of moving into the light and leaving the physical world behind, Sonia reached down to touch her baby's tiny face. Her spirit merged with her body and the heart monitor began to beep. She was alive.

"That was…amazing," Eddie breathed out.

"That was a miracle," Buck corrected with a smile.

It was. She should have died. She was dead for twelve minutes. But she found a way back. Just like Maddie had. They had bigger things to live for and they fought for it.

…

"Was it a miracle?"

Buck looked up from where he was changing into his street clothes after his shift ended. The C.A.D. system was back up and running, he had three hours of overtime, and his bed was calling his name. But Eddie was standing near the closed door of the locker room and his expression was as serious as Buck had ever seen it.

"Was what a miracle?"

"That mom coming back to life," Eddie clarified. He still hadn't moved from the door, like he was blocking Buck's escape route. But this was Eddie and Buck didn't feel threatened.

With a little grin, Buck pulled his t-shirt on. "What else would it be? Not like any of us can raise the dead."

"No? I was getting the impression maybe you could."

If Buck had still been pulling his shirt on, he might have gotten stuck, but luckily he was already fully clothed except for his shoes. "I can't bring dead people back to life, Eddie." His voice was quieter than he intended, his eyes on his shoes in the bottom of his locker.

There wasn't anything accusatory in Eddie's tone. Yet. But if he pushed and Buck told him the truth—maybe. Buck's heart rate picked up.

"Tell me you didn't see that woman's ghost. Tell me you didn't have something to do with her survival," Eddie challenged, yet still without judgment.

Buck met Eddie's eyes. "She chose to live all on her own."

For five full seconds, neither of them spoke. It was clear that Eddie had picked up on the fact that Buck had only answered one of the questions, and what that meant for the other one.

"A ghost called 9-1-1."

The words were breathed out, like Eddie couldn't hold them in but saying them any louder would break something. Buck's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"How long have you been able to do this?" Eddie asked, still in that quiet tone. "Birth? At least since I joined the station. You were talking to ghosts in the high rise."

It was amazing he remembered that. Why did he remember that? But maybe if he had been paying that much attention, if he remembered all the way back to then, and he wasn't angry yet—Maybe Buck could tell him. Like Maddie said. He could tell a friend, could tell Eddie, and it would be okay.

"I died when I was ten."

Eddie flinched then took a step closer to Buck, away from the door.

"Massive electrical storm. Took out every electronic in the house, and the idiot me who was touching the cords," Buck explained. "Apparently that won me a ticket to ghost town, because I've been seeing them ever since." He took a deep breath. "And then I died again a little over a year ago."

"You did?" Eddie's voice was strained.

Buck nodded, motioning to his eyes. "Woke up again and now my eyes turn gold whenever there's a ghost around."

"They do?" He was obviously trying to remember a time when Buck's eyes had been anything but vibrantly blue.

Taking pity on him, Buck reached into his locker and held up a contact case. Even without words, Eddie got the message.

For a long while, all Eddie did was stare at him. The gears were turning in his head. He was thinking about everything he knew about Buck, about their calls. It was clear from the expression on his face, the far off look in his eyes, the way his mouth kept squeezing into a thin line or twitching down into a frown.

And Buck waited. He stayed still and silent. Eventually Eddie would have to decide if he believed Buck, and then he would have to decide if this was enough to break their friendship. Was Maddie right and Eddie would stick by him, or would Eddie do like Buck's friend back in middle school and turn on him?

"Bobby knows."

That was not what Buck expected and it took him a few seconds to collect himself. He nodded. "Yeah." He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know how long, though. He sort of sprung it on me after the earthquake."

"Anyone else?" Eddie took another step closer, so they were almost within arm's reach of each other.

Growing more baffled by the minute, Buck shook his head. "Maddie. I've never told anyone else, though."

Eddie nodded like that made sense. Then he let out a huge woosh of air and his shoulders drooped, as if a great weight had dropped from him. "Alright then."

Buck blinked. Again. "That's it?"

"That's it." Eddie clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I said I'd have your back, and I will. Always, Buck."

Once again, the burning in Buck's eyes had nothing to do with the dead.

…

If Buck had thought he and Eddie were in sync before, they were definitely drift compatible now. No talking, just understanding. It was like removing that one barrier between them had opened up a whole new level of communication. They barely had to look at each other to know what the other wanted to do, to support each other.

And if Buck had to go look up what 'drift compatible' was after Chim teasingly called them that, that was no one's business but his own.

With Buck's secret out, working on victims who were toeing the line between life and death was easier. Buck didn't hesitate to talk to the ghost, even while he and Eddie kept working to save their body. Sometimes Eddie took over fully with resuscitating while Buck focused all his attention on walking the ghost through calming down and reentering their body. And they didn't even talk about it, didn't make some rule about when or how to go about it. They just did it.

But afterward, every time, Buck and Eddie would look at each other. Eddie would motion to his eyes, Buck would shake his head, and they would grin at each other. A job well done. Another person alive to see another day.

As if in answer to Buck's admission, Eddie was more open about Shannon. They weren't together. Though they weren't officially divorced yet, they were headed that way. The paperwork was already signed. They were just waiting on the courts. She would have visitation rights, and be part of Christopher's life, but Eddie had decided he couldn't let her back into his heart.

"I've moved on," he admitted. "For the longest time, I was waiting for her to come back to me. I even moved to L.A. with some half-baked idea of running into her on accident and reigniting that spark or—or something. I don't know. But by the time we met again?" He shrugged. "It was already over."

It was so similar to Buck and Abby. Buck had waited for Abby for months, for almost a year, as she communicated with him less and less and less. Until Buck couldn't wait any more. Until his heart moved on without him. Buck wondered if Eddie had found himself someone new in the time he was waiting, like Buck had, or not. But that was something he couldn't ask. If Eddie told him, fine, but he wouldn't do that to his own heart.

…

Moved on or not, losing Shannon so soon—It was too much.

Eddie rode with her in the ambulance with Chim and Hen while the rest of the team followed after, in a second ambulance holding the driver of the car or in the ladder truck. They were halfway to the hospital when Shannon appeared in the back of the ladder truck with Buck.

"No." He ripped off his headset so the noise of the truck would drown him out to Lewis in the driver's seat up front. "No no no no, don't do this."

"I don't want to," Shannon said, tears in her eyes. Although she was whispering, Buck could hear her loud and clear. "I wish I could stay."

"So stay!" Buck ordered her, more forcefully than he had ever been with a ghost. "You can't do this to him! To either of them!"

"I don't want to!" Shannon screamed back at him. She was shaking all over. "Do you think I chose to die?! I was finally back in my son's life! Things were getting better! I—"

"So keep fighting!" Buck interrupted harshly. He gripped the bar by the door to steady himself and leaned forward. "Go back to the hospital. Go back to your body. And stay there!"

She gave him a flat look, unimpressed, and vanished.

It was perhaps too much to hope for a second miracle, but Buck did it anyway. He hoped and prayed and willed one into existence up until the ladder truck stopped in front of the hospital and everyone jumped down to run inside. Everyone except Buck, because Shannon was waiting for him by the glass doors.

Tears were racing down her cheeks and Buck already knew it was too late. "No."

Shannon nodded roughly, gasping through her own tears. Buck shook his head.

"There's gotta be…You can't…" He didn't know what to say. To Shannon. To Eddie. "Eddie—"

"He's still inside. With—With my—With me," Shannon choked out. She wiped at her eyes ferociously. It didn't help. "You have to—You have to be there for him. For both of them."

It sounded so much like Abby's mom's request that Buck's stomach dropped out of him. Would Eddie leave too? Take Christopher and go? Try to find himself after this loss?

"They both talk about you all the time," Shannon continued, her voice strained from talking while crying. "That's why I signed the papers. Because I knew—Even if I couldn't be the wife Eddie needed—Even if I kept failing them, over and over—I knew someone was there to have their backs."

"I'll always have their backs," Buck breathed out.

It was like he wasn't really there. His body wasn't his own. He was standing there, talking to the ghost of Eddie's almost-ex-wife, but it was like watching through someone else's eyes. Because it couldn't be true. She couldn't just be…dead. Not like that.

"Eddie told me," Shannon managed. "He was standing there over my body, and he—he told me…If there was anything I wanted to say—," she had to pause to collect herself, to stop crying long enough for speech. Eddie had told her to come to Buck with her message, because he knew Buck would hear it. "Please tell them I'm so sorry. I tried. I really tried. And I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay. Even if things weren't perfect. Even if things were never the same."

She gulped down several deep breaths. Buck's hands clenched at his sides as he fought off his own tears. A few still leaked out, despite his efforts.

"Tell Eddie…I want him to be happy. Tell him it's okay. I approve. Tell him he made the right choice. Can you do that for me?"

Buck couldn't speak. If he did, it would come out as strained and thick as Shannon's. If he did, he would start to cry and wouldn't stop. So he nodded.

Shannon smiled. She reached up as if to touch his cheek, though he felt nothing. "Thank you…Buck."

And then she was gone.

Forever.

…

Eddie didn't have to ask if Shannon spoke to Buck. As soon as they had a moment alone, Buck relayed her message. And when Eddie started to cry, Buck held him close and tight and cried with him.

Maybe Eddie and Shannon were getting divorced. Maybe they didn't love each other like husband and wife anymore. Shannon was still the mother of his child, was still someone important in his life. And there had been nothing any of them, not the team, not the doctors, not Buck, could do to save her.

Though they kept in touch via texts, Buck didn't see Eddie for two weeks after that. There was the funeral to plan, family flying in from all over, Christopher to tell and help process things. Buck did what he could and let Eddie know that, if he needed anything, anything at all, Buck was there for him.

The first shift back, Eddie received condolences from every single person at the station with him. So Buck didn't. He'd already said his peace, and Shannon's. Eddie looked immensely grateful that Buck didn't say 'I'm sorry' like everyone else.

About halfway through the shift, Eddie asked Buck if they could talk once they were off work. He was doing that thing where he pulled at the cuffs of his uniform, like it was riding up except it wasn't.

"There's…There's a lot I need to talk to you about," he said.

"Yeah," Buck agreed, though Eddie's nerves had Buck nervous too. "Yeah, man. Sure. Anything."

It had Buck on edge the rest of the shift. Did Eddie want to talk about Shannon? He wouldn't look at Buck for more than a few seconds. Had he started to blame Buck for her death or something? Had he decided the ghost thing was too much?

He worried about it right up until the ladder truck exploded, and took his world with it.

…

Only a few details about the truck bombing stuck with Buck.

He remembered there was a guy wandering around, and everyone told him that was the bomber, but he couldn't focus on the guy enough to give any details about him except that he wore black.

He remembered being worried about his team. How many bombs had there been? How long until another station could get to them?

His eyes had been burning, so at least one person was dead. He kept looking around, trying to recognize a ghost, but his vision was blurry and he couldn't…focus.

He remembered Hen asking how he felt and Chim and Eddie telling him to hang on. Buck did his best to look at Eddie, using the grip Eddie had on his hand to lead his gaze. He remembered Eddie's little gasp of surprise. Maddie would later tell him one of his contacts had fallen out. For the first time, someone besides Buck and Maddie had seen Buck's golden eyes.

And the pain. Buck remembered the pain. He remembered it and god, he wanted it to stop.

…

Buck was twenty-eight, and he didn't die. But he kind of wished he had.

He was twenty-eight, and his leg had been crushed by a ladder truck, and the doctors didn't know if he could ever be a firefighter again. He was twenty-eight, and his eyes burned all the time in the hospital and only half that time was because of people dying. He was twenty-eight and his best friend, the person he loved more than anyone else, hadn't come to see him in the hospital, had wanted to have a serious talk even before the bomb. He was twenty-eight and his life was over.

It was later, after he had been released from the hospital and was back at Maddie's new apartment—and for once she was grateful he never bought his own place because it meant he was close and she could keep an eye on him—that Eddie finally visited.

"Hey," Buck greeted when the door swung open to reveal his guest.

Just as awkward, Eddie slid his hands into his pockets and said, "Hey."

It was several seconds of silent staring before Buck hobbled to the side to let Eddie in. Eddie, who closed and locked the door for him so Buck wouldn't struggle with it on his crutches, who let Buck lead the way to the couch and waited until Buck was sitting before situating himself on the total opposite side from him.

"You're kind of freaking me out," Buck admitted, repositioning his leg so it wouldn't hurt as much. Painkillers did most of the work, but it still ached from time to time.

Eddie couldn't hold his gaze. His eyes flickered around the apartment as if he'd never seen it before, as if he hadn't helped Buck and Maddie move in there after what happened with Doug. He even glanced down the hall toward Maddie's room, the guest room, and the bathroom—the 'guest room' because Maddie refused to call it 'Buck's room' in case he decided to never move out. She might change her mind after the whole crushed-leg thing, though.

"Is this about…what you wanted to talk about, before the bomb?" Buck asked after another long while in silence.

Eddie let out a heavy breath and heaved his shoulders. "Yes. Yes, this is—That's what this is." He motioned to all of Buck. "I wanted to come see you in the hospital, but I knew you'd probably ask and I didn't want to have this talk while you were—while we still weren't sure if—"

Yeah, probably best not to have heavy, possibly friendship ending conversations when half the friendship was still undergoing multiple surgeries to try and save his leg. They said the mindset of the patient could affect the outcome of a surgery, even if they were unconscious for it.

Another loud breath and Eddie cleared his throat. "You know, Shannon, she—"

So Buck had been right. It was about Shannon. His heart was already bruised from the news about his leg, and now it was going to get hurt again. Great talk. Great day. Why hadn't he died, again?

Eddie glanced up at Buck and back down to his hands, clenched in front of him. "You already know this, she told you to tell me, after all, but she—We'd talked about it and she said she was okay with it, she told you she was okay with it, but…With the funeral and everything, it—It just seemed too soon, you know?"

The words Eddie was saying were definitely English, and Buck was sure they made sense in Eddie's head, but clearly not everything he was thinking was making it out of his mouth.

"I am…so lost, man," Buck told him. "What are you talking about? What seemed too soon?"

"When we were discussing the future—Christopher's future—Shannon was worried about who would be around to help me when she wasn't. I told her someone had already been around. Someone had already been helping me out." With a deep breath, Eddie finally lifted his eyes to Buck's. "Someone already had my back."

That had been what Shannon said that day, wasn't it? That she'd signed the divorce papers because she knew someone would be there to have their backs, even if it wasn't her. Because she knew Buck would be there for them.

"I didn't want to say anything because I worried what it might do to our friendship. That you might walk away—"

"Eddie, I would never do that," Buck rushed to assure him, leaning in as best he could over his bum leg.

Eddie gave a weak smile. "Yeah. I know. But that's what I was thinking. And then I thought…You told me about your gift, and it made us stronger as a team, brought us closer. And maybe I needed to take a leap of faith too. Maybe it would have the same effect."

There were two possibilities for what Eddie was about to say. Either Eddie had also been hiding some supernatural ability—which Buck would not be totally surprised by but would probably need a day or so to process because how much more skilled and awesome could Eddie get, really?—or he was about to confess to something that Buck had told himself would never happen, something that would shine some light on his future.

Again Eddie cast his eyes around, like he could find the courage to continue in a painting on the wall or a desk lamp.

"You got a freaky skill too?" Buck asked, voice shaking.

That earned him a laugh and Eddie lowering his head with a smile. Endearing. "No. No superpowers here."

Which meant—

"I'm in love with you, Eddie." The words punched out of Buck, taking all his hope and courage and throwing it two feet across the couch cushions and into Eddie's hands.

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie lifted his head to meet Buck's eyes. "You're serious?" he whispered.

Buck nodded, his heart in his throat. "I have been for—for a while, but I, uh, Shannon came back and I didn't want to be that guy, you know?"

Eddie nodded, like that made perfect sense, and then his lips pulled up at the sides and he was smiling and Buck couldn't breathe. "I'm in love with you too."

"Really?" Buck's voice squeaked but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Another nod, and a brighter smile. "Really. For a while. Shannon wanted me to tell you, but, well. And then I was going to, but the truck—" He cut off, his smile dropping as fast as his eyes landed on the cast still on Buck's leg.

The cast. Buck's bum leg. The fact that he might never be a firefighter again. Eddie loved him but that didn't change the shitty facts of Buck's life.

Eddie caught on to Buck's dark thoughts. Of course he did. It was Eddie. His hand reached out to take Buck's and he scooted closer on the couch.

"You'll get through this, Buck," he promised. "Maddie said the doctor's said you'll walk again."

"But I might not be able to—" The words caught in his throat. He never wanted to say it. Ever.

Eddie squeezed his hand. "You will. And I'll be with you every step of the way. Well, me, and Christopher, and Carla, and the team," he added with a bashful smile that had Buck's lip quirking up too. With a serious and yet hopeful expression, Eddie said, "The station won't be home again until you're back with us. So I know, without a doubt, that you'll be a firefighter again."

Then, with only the slightest amount of hesitance, he leaned in and landed a quick, testing kiss to Buck's cheek.

Well, when Eddie put it that way, with that much conviction, Buck actually started to believe it was true. Buck would get better and better, until he was back with his team saving people's lives. And he proved it by pulling Eddie in for a proper kiss.

…

fin