training wheels. // evan 'buck' buckley

xxxiii. before the wave

buck leaned back in his chair, frustration rippling through his body as he massaged his still-aching leg. the injury from the fire truck accident wasn’t healing fast enough for his liking, and every day spent off-duty felt like torture. he glanced at the crutches propped up by the door, resentment flickering in his chest. he could feel the team moving on without him, not intentionally of course, but it was happening. he wasn’t there to save the day, wasn’t there to help with the emergencies.

the worst part was the tension brewing between him and bobby. The captain had been adamant: no return to the 118 until buck was completely cleared. the doctors agreed, their clinical words falling on deaf ears as buck tried to convince them he was fine. bobby, however, had been more firm. “you’re not ready, buck,” he had said, leaving no room for argument. “i can’t risk you or the team.”

the memory gnawed at him as he fiddled with his phone, pulling up the latest text from me.

charlie: how’s the leg? are you pacing the apartment yet, or have you moved on to scaling the walls?

buck smirked and typed back.

buck: both, actually. about to start digging a tunnel next. you busy later?

charlie: not really, why? need someone to save you from cabin fever?

buck: always.

he wasn’t going to admit it, but my visits were one of the few things keeping him grounded during this forced downtime. i had a way of balancing encouragement and blunt honesty that he appreciated more than he could say. he knew he was difficult - frustrated, short-tempered, eager to return to the team - and i'd been patient, navigating his moods without tiptoeing around him.

but as much as buck appreciated the support, the tension of being sidelined grew heavier with each passing day.

at the call center, i stretched my arms above my head, taking a moment to glance around. the place was buzzing with its usual hum of activity. calls poured in, one after another, mostly routine emergencies or minor accidents - until the floor shook beneath me.

it was subtle at first, like a low vibration, before the tremor grew. the screens rattled on their stands, a cup of coffee slid off a desk, and the distant rumble of an earthquake rolled through the building.

i instinctively grabbed the edge of my desk, my eyes scanning the room to see how everyone else was reacting. they were used to this - earthquakes weren’t exactly uncommon in LA - but the air held a certain unease, a momentary pause as everyone waited to see if it would get worse.

may, sitting a few desks over, looked at me with wide eyes.

“did you feel that?”

“yeah,” i replied, my heart pounding just a little faster. “it wasn’t too bad, though, right?”

“could have been worse,” may said, standing and looking around. “seems like we got lucky.”

i nodded but couldn’t shake the strange feeling that lingered in the air. it wasn’t just the earthquake; something else was hanging there, unspoken. i grabbed my phone and quickly texted buck.

charlie: hey, did you feel that?

buck: yeah, minor one, right? nothing to worry about.

i glanced at the TV screen mounted on the far wall, the news anchor already talking about the earthquake. no major damage, no casualties. it seemed like it really was nothing to worry about. still, that sense of unease refused to leave me.