Buddie: Partners in Fire

Chapter 78

Scene: Hotel dining area, 7:20 a.m.

The dining area was hushed, with only a handful of early risers quietly going about their mornings. Some sat alone, sipping steaming mugs of coffee while browsing the newspaper, while others gathered in small groups, conversing in low voices. The hotel’s breakfast spread was modest but welcoming, the warm smell of freshly cooked eggs and bacon mingling with the sweet scent of pastries and fresh fruit. Buck led the way toward the buffet, glancing at Eddie as they approached the food. He could see the exhaustion etched into Eddie’s features, the emotional toll of the past few days weighing him down.

Buck grabbed two plates, his movements efficient as he piled on food for both of them. He knew Eddie wasn’t particularly hungry, but he made sure to pick things Eddie usually liked: scrambled eggs, some toast with butter, and a side of fresh fruit. He added some bacon and sausage to his own plate, more out of habit than hunger. The quiet clatter of silverware and the soft hum of conversation provided a comfortable backdrop as Buck steered them toward a table by the window, where the soft morning light was just beginning to filter in.

They sat down, the sun’s rays casting a gentle glow over the small table. Buck watched as Eddie picked up his fork and poked at the eggs on his plate, barely lifting a bite to his mouth. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with the shared weight of everything they’d been through.

Buck (gently): "You need to eat something, Eddie. We’ve got a long flight ahead."

Eddie sighed, setting his fork down for a moment. He looked out the window, his expression distant, the quiet stillness of the morning doing little to lift the heavy cloud of grief he was still under. He picked up a piece of toast and took a small, almost reluctant bite.

Eddie (softly, with a slight shrug): "I know. I’m just... not that hungry."

Buck’s eyes softened as he watched Eddie, his heart aching for him. He knew exactly what Eddie meant. Grief was like that—it had a way of sapping your strength, of making the most basic tasks feel insurmountable. Eating, sleeping, even getting out of bed felt like climbing a mountain when the weight of loss pressed down on you. Buck knew this from experience, but seeing it in Eddie made it harder to bear.

Buck (encouraging, with a small smile): "Just a little, for me? You’ll feel better if you have something in your stomach."

Eddie looked up at Buck, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He appreciated Buck’s concern, even if he didn’t quite have the energy to match it. With a slight nod, he took another bite of the toast, chewing slowly. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Eddie (teasing, his voice light but still tired): "Alright, but only because you’re nagging me."

Buck let out a soft chuckle, relieved to see Eddie eating, even if it was just a little. He knew Eddie wasn’t doing it for himself, not yet anyway, but if his gentle nudging was what Eddie needed to get through the morning, Buck was happy to do it.

Buck (with a grin): "That’s what I’m here for—endless nagging."

Eddie’s smile grew slightly, and for the first time that morning, there was a hint of lightness between them. They began to eat in a more comfortable rhythm, the tension easing just a bit as they fell into an easy back-and-forth. They chatted idly about the flight, their plans once they got back to LA, and the idea of taking a few days to just rest and decompress from everything. But even as they talked about mundane things, the undercurrent of uncertainty remained.

Eddie’s thoughts eventually drifted back to what awaited them in LA. He was grateful for the return to some sense of normalcy, but part of him felt like everything was different now—like something fundamental had shifted inside him. He pushed the eggs around on his plate, his appetite still mostly absent.

Eddie (quietly, hesitant): "Do you think it’ll be weird? Going back... after everything?"

Buck paused mid-bite, looking at Eddie thoughtfully. He hadn’t really considered it from that angle. For him, going home felt like a step toward something stable, something familiar, but he could see why Eddie would feel differently. LA was where he learned his abuela's death, where Buck had his accident, where their lives had been upended, where Eddie had been confronted with old grief and new pain.

Buck (thoughtful, his voice gentle): "I don’t think it’ll be weird. It’ll just... take some time to adjust. But we’ll be home, and that’s what matters."

Eddie nodded, though he still seemed unsure. His eyes flicked back down to his plate, the food untouched as he spoke quietly.

Eddie (his voice thick with emotion): "Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just... I don’t know, Buck. I feel like everything’s changed. Like I’m different."

There was a vulnerability in Eddie’s words that hit Buck hard. He reached across the table, his hand gently covering Eddie’s, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over Eddie’s knuckles. He could feel how tense Eddie was, how much he was holding in.

Buck (softly, reassuring): "It’s okay to feel that way. It doesn’t mean you won’t feel like yourself again. Grief... it changes you, but it doesn’t take away who you are. You’re still you, Eddie."

Eddie’s gaze softened, and he squeezed Buck’s hand in return. The quiet strength in Buck’s words, the steady presence he’d been offering all this time—it was something Eddie hadn’t realized he needed so much until now.

Eddie (softly, with a trace of gratitude): "Thanks... for being here. For understanding."

Buck (smiling warmly): "Always."

For a moment, they just sat there, the weight of the last few days still present but somehow lighter in the quiet intimacy of their conversation. Eddie slowly began to eat more of his food, encouraged by Buck’s gentle presence and the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in this.

As they finished breakfast and the sun climbed higher in the sky, the conversation shifted naturally toward what was next. Buck would soon have to return to work, something that hung in the back of both their minds but hadn’t been spoken about directly.

Eddie (after a long pause, quietly): "You’re going back to work soon, huh?"

Buck looked up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. He nodded slowly, the reality of it sinking in for the first time. It had been months since the accident—since his last day on the job. His recovery had been long, and there had been moments where he wasn’t sure he’d ever return to Station 118. But now, after everything, the thought of going back felt like another shift in their lives, another step toward a new normal.

Buck (a little uncertain): "Yeah, I’ll have to. Cap’s been checking in, making sure I’m ready. It’s been... a while."

Eddie’s brow furrowed, his worry evident. He knew how much Buck loved his job, but after everything—after the accident, after the time they’d spent healing—he couldn’t help but feel protective of Buck, worried about him diving back into the high-risk, high-stakes world of firefighting.

Eddie (softly, concerned): "Are you sure you’re ready? It hasn’t been that long since... well, since the accident."

Buck’s expression softened at Eddie’s concern. He knew Eddie wasn’t questioning his ability, but rather, he was worried about his well-being—physically, mentally, emotionally.

Buck (reassuring, his voice steady): "I’m ready. It’s been tough, but I’ve been cleared, and honestly? I miss it. Being back with the team, doing what I love... it feels right. But I’ll be careful, I promise."

Eddie nodded, though the worry didn’t entirely fade from his eyes. He trusted Buck, but the fear of losing him again was something that lingered, especially after the events of the past few months.

Eddie (softly, almost to himself): "I just don’t want to lose you."

Buck’s heart clenched at the quiet admission, and he squeezed Eddie’s hand a little tighter.

Buck (softly, reassuring): "You won’t, Eddie. I’m not going anywhere."

They sat there in the warm sunlight, the weight of their conversation heavy but laced with the quiet understanding that they would face whatever came next—together.