Buddie: Partners in Fire

Chapter 106

Scene: Back at the Station

The ride back to the station was quiet. Buck sat in the back of the truck, staring out the window, his mind clouded with self-doubt. The city streets passed by in a blur, but all he could focus on was the knot of guilt twisting in his chest. He hated how he had frozen, how fear had overtaken him. He hated that he couldn’t push through it. But more than anything, he hated that he had let the team down.

He replayed the scene over and over in his head. The flames, the suffocating heat, the moment he felt his body lock up. The fear had been paralyzing, suffocating. He hadn’t been able to help, hadn’t been able to be the firefighter everyone expected him to be. And it gnawed at him.

Once they were back at the firehouse, Buck knew he needed to talk to Bobby. He couldn’t just leave things unresolved, not like this. He needed to explain, to apologize, to try and make sense of why he’d fallen apart. So, while the rest of the crew began to unwind, laughter and conversation filling the air, Buck quietly made his way down the hall to Bobby’s office. He knocked softly on the door, his heart pounding as he waited.

Bobby looked up from his desk, his eyes immediately softening when he saw Buck standing there. He gave a nod, motioning for Buck to come in.

Bobby (gently): “Of course, Buck. Come on in.”

Buck stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and sank into the chair across from Bobby’s desk. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words. He swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts, his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor as if it held all the answers. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice thick with guilt.

Buck (voice heavy, barely above a whisper): “I’m so sorry for what happened today. I thought I was ready, Bobby. I really did. But... I froze, and I—I failed you. I failed everyone.”

His voice cracked, and he looked away, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. The shame felt like a physical weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Bobby, ever patient, held up his hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

Bobby (gently but firmly): “Buck, you don’t need to apologize. What happened today—that’s completely normal. You’ve been through hell and back. This is part of the process.”

Buck frowned, confusion and frustration evident in his eyes. He had heard the words before, but they didn’t make him feel any better.

Buck (voice rising, frustration leaking through): “Normal? Bobby, I froze out there. I couldn’t even move. Everyone else was doing their job, and I—”

He cut himself off, his breath catching in his throat. The room seemed to close in around him, his own harsh self-criticism echoing in his ears.

Buck (softer, voice trembling): “I was useless.”

Bobby leaned forward, his eyes filled with understanding but also resolve. He wasn’t going to let Buck spiral any further.

Bobby (gently but firm): “Buck, you’re dealing with trauma. Deep, real trauma. It’s not something you can just push through with sheer willpower. You’ve been through more than most people could ever imagine, and coming back from that doesn’t happen overnight. Freezing up—it’s not failure. It’s your mind protecting you because it still remembers what happened.”

Buck clenched his hands together in his lap, his fingers twisting nervously. He shook his head, his voice barely audible.

Buck: “I just... I don’t want to be a liability. I don’t want to hold anyone back. Maybe... maybe I shouldn’t have come back at all.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Buck immediately regretted saying them. But it was out now. The thought that had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since the accident. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this anymore. Maybe he wasn’t the firefighter he used to be. Maybe he never would be again.

Bobby’s face softened, but there was an intensity in his gaze now, something that told Buck he wasn’t going to let him give up that easily.

Bobby (voice steady, calm but unwavering): “No, Buck. Don’t even think like that. You belong here. You’re not a burden. You’re one of the best firefighters I’ve ever had the privilege of working with. But more importantly, you’re family. You don’t quit on family.”

Buck’s lip quivered, and he felt the dam inside him begin to break. The words struck something deep within him, something raw and vulnerable that he had been trying so hard to keep hidden. His eyes welled with tears, and he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand, but it was no use. They kept coming.

Buck (choking on the words): “I just... I feel like I’m letting everyone down. You, Eddie, the whole team. I should be better. I should be stronger.”

His voice broke completely, and the tears started falling in earnest now, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He buried his face in his hands, ashamed of how weak he felt in that moment.

Bobby didn’t hesitate. He got up from behind his desk and moved to sit in the chair next to Buck. He placed a firm, reassuring hand on Buck’s shoulder, grounding him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone.

Bobby (softly): “Buck, listen to me. You’re not letting anyone down. Not me, not the team, and certainly not Eddie. You’ve given everything to this job—to us. And we’re not about to let you carry this weight on your own.”

Buck sniffled, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he tried to get a grip on his emotions. He felt so raw, so exposed, sitting here breaking down in front of Bobby. But Bobby’s presence was steady, unwavering, like a rock in the middle of a storm.

Buck (voice thick with emotion): “I don’t know if I can do this, Bobby. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.”

Bobby squeezed his shoulder, his voice filled with the same gentle but unyielding determination.

Bobby: “You don’t have to be the same, Buck. That’s the thing about trauma—it changes you. But that doesn’t mean you’re broken. It doesn’t mean you’re less than who you were. You’re still you. And you’re still one hell of a firefighter. We just have to take this one step at a time. And we’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

Buck’s sobs began to subside, though the tears still flowed freely down his cheeks. He looked up at Bobby, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. There was something so reassuring about Bobby’s unwavering faith in him. Something he hadn’t realized how desperately he needed.

Buck (voice hoarse): “I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to give up. I just... I don’t know how to keep going.”

Bobby nodded, understanding without judgment.

Bobby: “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You just have to keep taking those steps, even when they feel small. And we’ll be right there, every time you fall, to help you get back up.”

They sat there for a long moment, the air between them filled with unspoken understanding. Buck’s tears slowly dried, and though he still felt fragile, there was a sense of relief now, knowing he wasn’t carrying the burden alone.

Bobby gave his shoulder one last squeeze before standing up.

Bobby (softly): “Take it one day at a time, Buck. You’ve got nothing to prove to any of us. We already know what you’re capable of.”

Buck nodded, feeling lighter, the weight of his guilt and self-doubt loosening its grip on his heart. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he had to face it alone.

Buck (quietly): “Thank you, Bobby.”

Bobby smiled, his eyes warm and fatherly.

Bobby: “Anytime, kid. Anytime.”