Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Things are… Strange now.

After the bridge collapse, healing hasn’t been as linear as Buck would’ve liked. Sure, he recovered from the big bad bruise on his head and the following concussion, but his mind was stuck on that bridge. The entire team hurt, Bobby missing, and no hope.

The thing about trauma, as Buck has learned from copious amounts of experience, is that while it never fully goes away, it grows distant. He gets flare-ups sometimes, of course, when a thunderstorm is raging on, or when they’re called to an explosion going off. As much as he’s unpacked in therapy, he hasn’t recovered completely. And it’s fine. It should be fine. But the bridge collapse feels different because everyone moved on so very quickly — except for Buck. 

Things are strange now. It’s why he does it. He has no other reason. He’s not lonely — he has Natalia now. A picture-perfect girlfriend. It’s enough. He tells himself that it’s enough.

“What’s this?” asks Buck, picking up a pamphlet from the loft’s kitchen counter.

“I’m pretty sure you can read, Buck,” answers Chim, popping his gum. Usually, Buck wouldn’t be irritated by that, but Chim’s the interim captain due to Bobby’s cruise, and everything gets on his nerves.

“I can read,” Buck huffs. “I’m just confused. How does this work?”

He looks down at the pamphlet again. The deep red letters that say, are you a first responder looking for a buddy who understands your woes? — Fireapp’s got you covered!

“It’s essentially an anonymous support system,” Chim explains. “You fill out an application and the app matches you with another first responder in the States, someone you have things in common with.”

Buck blinks. “So, it’s like a dating app?”

“No, Buck,” says Chim, rolling his eyes. “You’re supposed to find someone who you can share things that trouble you about our jobs with, and you do the same for them in turn.”

“Huh,” Buck clutches the pamphlet tighter. I could use that.

A loud clink sounds from downstairs, followed by some swearing. Chimney lets out a sigh, “I better go take a look,” and rushes away, leaving Buck all alone in the loft. He makes sure Chimney’s out of sight before he wrinkles the pamphlet into his pocket.

Just you know, out of pure curiosity.

Buck forgets all about the pamphlet until the end of the shift. He’s changing into his civilian clothes in the locker room, Eddie beside him, and he reaches for his phone, just to grasp the smushed paper instead.

He discreetly hides the pamphlet in his duffel bag. Somehow the idea of anyone — but especially Eddie — finding out that he’s even considering the app is making him embarrassed. No one would poke fun at him for wanting a friend, of course. The very opposite — they would worry. But as much as Buck likes attention, he prefers it to be directed at him for the good he’s done, not his failures.

“Spending tonight with Marisol?” asks Buck, stuffing his uniform into the bag.

“Laser tag with her friends,” answers Eddie with a faraway gaze. Buck smirks. 

“Meeting the friends, huh?”

Eddie faces him to glare, but it doesn’t quite read as playful. “We’ve been on two dates, Buck. It’s her friend’s birthday and someone canceled last minute so they needed an extra person to form the team, and Marisol invited me . That’s all.”

Wait.

“Laser tag,” repeats Buck, his smirk gone. “You gonna be okay? There are sounds and flashing lights, and there are… Guns.”

Eddie flinches. It’s barely a movement but Buck’s so attuned to him that he notices. He notices everything.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, snapping his locker shut. “See you tomorrow.”

Before Buck can say anything else, Eddie has marched out of the locker room. 

I need to arrange some last-minute changes for tomorrow’s funeral. Raincheck?

Buck drops his phone on his chest and it locks on Natalia’s text. They had planned to order takeout and cuddle up on the new couch in front of the latest episode of Big Brother. Now Buck’s all alone in bed, his thoughts racing a mile a minute.

He wants to text Eddie, just to ask if the night’s going well. But they’ve grown distant lately, now that they’re both dating, and he has no clue if checking in is acceptable right now. Every time he talks to Eddie, it feels like… Like cheating. He doesn’t want to unpack that.

He almost texts Bobby, until he remembers that he’s somewhere out in the Pacific with no reception and probably no wish to hear from Buck on his hard-earned vacation.

He can’t text Maddie either — it’s her and Chimney’s date night, the only evening of the week when they let the Lees watch Jee to have some newly-engaged couple time to themselves. Hen isn’t much of a texter and he’d probably be interrupting her family time if he were to call. So that leaves—

“He-ey, Christopher!” Buck chants into his phone.

“Hey, Buck,” answers the boy. There’s a tinge of something to his tone. Worry, perhaps. “Why are you calling? Is everything okay with Dad?”

Buck blinks. “No— I mean, I’m not calling about your dad. Can’t I call my best friend just for the sake of it?”

“I’m thirteen years old. Shouldn’t you have a best friend your age?”

Buck frowns. “Ouch. That hurts, bud.”

“Sorry but I can’t really talk, I’m at Denny’s for a sleepover,” carries on Chris. “And I gotta beat him at this game! He’s destroying me.”

“Oof,” Buck breathes out. “Good luck then! Text me how it goes after.”

“Bye, Buck,” he says and ends the call.

Once again, Buck is left alone in the quiet of his loft. He stares at his phone screen, trying to figure out how to kill some time until it’s time for bed. He could clean. He could wash his work clothes again, even though he already did so last night. He could empty the duffel bag and repack it ag—

It’s then that he remembers. The pamphlet.

Buck rushes up from the bed to search through his duffel bag for the crinkled sheet of paper. He pulls it out and scans the QR code, opening the app download page. He anxiously taps his screen as Fireapp installs on his phone.

Once it’s open, the screen screams at him with an animation in bright red letters — Sign up with your station’s ID now to start your recovery journey! Buck does as he’s told and waits for the application to load.

Username. Definitely not firehose. That’s too on the nose and reminds him of, well, some unfortunate experiences. He ponders for a moment and types in, Lichtenberg. After all, it’s one of those traumas that he’s supposed to talk about.

Select your occupation. Firefighter.

Interests outside work — select up to five. Buck selects working out, reading, and photography. He briefly hovers over the LGBT+ option but decides against it. No one here needs to know he’s bisexual.

Gender. Prefer not to say.

Sexuality. Seriously, this is sounding more like a dating app by the second. Once again, he presses prefer not to say.

Age group. 25 to 35.

What are you looking for in your buddy? It’s a free-form section. Buck ponders on it for a while. In the end, he types out, honestly, I just need a friend who wouldn’t judge.

He answers the rest of their questions as quickly as he can, keeping his identity as ambiguous as possible. He’s learned from years of experience to put as little personal details about himself as possible on the internet. You never know who you can match with. Buck had a stalker before, when he’d just moved to LA and joined every dating app possible with an extensive bio about himself. He doesn’t want a repeat of that.

All set! Looking for a match…

The screen loads and loads. Buck has to tap it a few times so that his screen doesn’t go off and lose the progress. The app’s probably overwhelmed. Or isn’t working that well in the first place. Or maybe there just isn’t a single match for Buck out there, even among other first responders. He tries not to linger on that thought, working through a yawn. He’ll close his eyes for just a second and then the match will be—

Ding!

Buck bristles awake, feeling something slam into his chest. He blinks in confusion until realizing that it’s his phone that both made the noise and fell onto his chest. He must’ve fallen asleep as he waited for the app to load. When he checks the time, he realizes it’s been 2 hours. And within the app—

Congratulations! You have matched with TheMartyr. Start a conversation now.

Buck sits up quickly, a wave of energy and excitement surging through him. His mind races with ideas on how to start the conversation, how not to embarrass himself, how to ensure he can be a good friend and—

You have received a message from TheMartyr.

Huh?

Buck waits a moment before tapping on the glowing message box, expecting a hey and how are you and are you up and ready to start this thing, or anything of the sorts. Instead there’s—

You’re a first responder, right?

Buck blinks.

yep, I believe it’s what the app’s for.

He watches as the text bubble shows up and disappears for several minutes until his phone dings again.

So, I’m having a panic attack. Or a PTSD attack. I have c-PTSD. Can you please help me, as a first responder?

Buck stares at his screen for a good minute, his brain lagging a bit like it does when the bell wakes him up at the firehouse. At least usually he has a few minutes on the way to get himself alert and ready to fight the fires. This time, he’s not very cognizant yet.

did you know giraffes pick their noses?

There’s nothing for a moment. Buck feels stupid. It is a stupid message. But then—

They do?

yeah, with their tongues. they have giant tongues!

Huh. As much as that’s gross, it’s also pretty impressive. Humans can’t pick their noses with their tongues.

humans are useless, honestly.

Tell me more about giraffes.

well, they’re very hungry. they can eat up to 45 kilograms of leaves a day

Where do they put it all??

to be honest, I don’t know. they probably poop a lot

Great. Now I’m thinking about giraffe poop.

You’re quite good at this first responder business.

I try my best

you want to tell me why you’re having a PTSD attack?

TheMartyr doesn’t reply instantaneously like before. Buck decides to click on their icon to check the information on their profile. Firefighter. I like cooking, hiking, and the beach. Gender: male. Sexuality: prefer not to say. Age group: 25 to 35. The free-form section just says, I don’t know, but I’m having a panic attack. It basically tells Buck nothing about him, other than his gender.

When he clicks out of his profile, there’s a new message.

You want the long or the short version?

whichever you prefer.

Well. Let’s just say I’m not going out with strangers ever again.

Scratch that, I’m not going out again in general.

going out is overrated. I only like it when I’m with my team

Agred.

Tell me about your team.

Buck doesn’t even need to think about it. He has praises for his people flowing out naturally from his mouth.

so, there’s my captain. he’s the strongest man I’ve ever met. I happily dive headfirst into fires when I know he’s the one overseeing them. 

there’s a younger guy. I used to think he’s a mini copy of me but I couldn't have been more wrong. the guy has guts.

there’s a woman who I admire like a sister. she’s great at helping me through difficult times and the smartest person I’ve had the pleasure to know.

there’s a guy who I’ve had my fair share of disagreements with but at the end of the day, we always come back to each other. 

and there’s my best friend. he’s everything you wish you could have in a partner. I trust him like I’ve never trusted anyone.

TheMartyr doesn’t respond for several minutes. Buck’s probably weirded him out with his vulnerability. He himself has no idea why he’s sprouting out such delicate details about his life to a stranger. Hell, they’ve been texting for ten minutes!

And then, a new message appears.

You talk about them like they’re your family.

is that weird?

Not at all. It’s like that with my team as well. I just didn’t know it could be a universal experience. I thought it was something special only we had.

still doesn’t make it any less special :)

Guess you’re right.

It feels like the conversation has reached a natural end. Buck should put his phone down and head to sleep. TheMartyr will probably want some rest after his PTSD attack, too.

are you feeling better? safe?

Yeah, a bunch. Thanks, uh…

How do I call you?

Buck thinks on it for a good minute. He doesn’t want to reveal his actual name, but calling each other by their full usernames would be a bit strange. In the end, he settles for a nickname derived from it.

you can call me Ten.

Okay.

Thank you for your much-needed service, Ten. I’m a lot more educated about giraffes now.

no worries, man. you will go places with these facts!

I’m sure I will.

You can call me Marty, by the way.

okay. have a good rest of your night, Marty

You too.

Buck locks his phone and sets it down to charge on his nightstand. He rubs his face and focuses on his breathing, trying to rid himself of a strange feeling in his gut that formed while he’d been talking to Marty. Something about the conversation scratched an itch Buck didn’t know he had. Like talking to Marty was something he needed.

Putting it out of his mind, Buck turns off the lights and heads to sleep.

Buck is not surprised when Marty doesn’t message him again. It was probably a one-time thing, just him testing the app and seeing what it’s all about. Honestly, Buck doesn’t know what to even use it for. Most of the time, he isn’t even thinking about his traumas, the possible PTSD he might have from them, and it’s best to brush it under the mat. He’s more than a little afraid of what he might discover if he got into the lighting strike, for one.

And then, they lose a person on a call. A nineteen-year-old girl, who’d barely started college. She’d overdosed on painkillers and the 118 arrived too late to save her, unable to locate her on the campus. Buck is the one who rolls out the body bag all the way to the ambulance who no longer needs its sirens. Her rosy perfume lingers in the air.

Bobby, returned from the cruise, puts them on an hour-long break once they arrive back at the station, and everyone disappears into their respective private spots to call their loved ones. With Chimney on the phone with Maddie, Buck has no idea who to call. Eddie isn’t on shift. He could technically call him, but he doesn’t want to bother him when he’s supposedly having a nice day off. Things between them are weird enough as it is for Buck to spoil his mood.

So, Buck does the next best thing — hides in the bunk room and opens the Fireapp.

hey, I kinda don’t have anyone to talk to right now, so I hope you don’t mind me popping up like this.

we lost someone on a call.

Buck stares at his phone screen until it goes dark. His eyes are blurred with unshed tears, on the brink of slipping out. He refuses to let them until he knows he can receive some comfort.

His phone lights up with a notification and he blinks the tears away.

Remember that it isn’t your fault. Sometimes we lose people, even despite our best efforts. I’m sure you did your best.

in times like these, it’s hard to remember what my best even is

I could always do more

You’re only human.

a pretty useless occupation, if you haven’t noticed

What about all the people you have saved? Doubt they thought you were useless.

How about you tell me about a time you thought you wouldn’t save someone but you ended up doing it anyway?

Buck scrambles through his brain. Even through his fuzzy thoughts, one thing in particular stands out.

it was my first month on the job. we were called to a kitchen fire, but by the time we arrived, it had broken out to the neighboring houses. the owner had a pantry full of explosive chemicals. a family of four lived next door, but we were told no one was home. it wasn’t until we were evacuating the house next to it that I noticed movement on the top floor. the entire house was engulfed in fire, all the entry points blocked. the roof was too unstable. it was a done deal — there wasn’t anything we could do other than try to hose it down but then it’d be too late. I don’t remember how, but I got in anyway, despite my captain’s orders. I found a kid, Mia, passed out from the smoke. she wasn’t breathing. I got her out, suffered some burns but at least she didn’t. I never found out why she was left alone in the house but she ended up completely fine after the hospital - I might have broken a few rules to check. she should be thirteen now.

Your captain must’ve been mad.

he was furious. I almost got fired.

But you saved her. That must’ve felt good, right?

I almost didn’t, though. it was pure luck I noticed the movement

If you blame everything you achieve on luck, have you ever achieved anything?

Buck rereads the message several times.

okay, wise man. you sound like you’ve been in therapy.

Pretty familiar on that front. c-PTSD, remember?

Buck wishes he didn’t.

it must be rough. do you have a support system?

Technically.

technically?

Marty takes longer to answer this time. Buck almost gives up on it and pockets his phone.

My team is great. My family is great. But it’s been different lately. I feel like I’m slipping away from them. There’s someone in particular who I’ve grown distant with and it’s tearing a hole in me.

It doesn’t help that

Sorry, didn’t mean to press send that quickly.

Never mind.

Buck’s curious but he doesn’t want to pry.

Either way, I’m just not sure if I should rely on other people for comfort. It can be dangerous. You can get too attached and you never know when they might disappear or… The other thing.

Am I making any sense?

Buck wishes Marty made less sense.

I have a similar issue. in therapy, they taught me that the comfort is worth the risk. and if people leave, it’s part of life. I should accept that.

but what do you do if some people are too important to let leave? I don’t want anyone else

No idea. I never knew I was scared of it until recently. I was in a position where my family was in danger, and it’s hard to forget those minutes when I thought I would lose them all.

I’m sorry you went through that. I know how it feels.

Buck thinks back to the bridge collapse. It isn’t that hard — it’s always at the back of his mind. The terror and misery he felt for those minutes after waking up with his face half bashed in, the entire 118 in various stages of injury… It hasn’t left him yet. Instead, his brain helpfully provides more potential scenarios where the 118 could get hurt again. They’re not pretty.

do you ever think about what lives the people you didn’t manage to save could have led?

Do you ever think about what lives people you saved have led because you saved them?

okay, Marty, don’t be a smartass

Hey, I’m just trying to be optimistic.

I’m not familiar with that feeling

I think people have this failed notion of me that I’m a generally happy guy. and in many ways, I am. but some particles of me are incapable of being happy.

Do you know what you need to make them happy?

no idea. it seems my thirties are not yet the time to know the meaning of life.

I feel you.

Allowing yourself to be guiltlessly happy is for sure a goal to achieve.

Buck smiles. He likes that. Guiltlessly happy. Any happiness he’s ever had has come with guilt.

I have never had a conversation like this in my life, with anyone. And the weird part? It doesn’t feel as scary as I thought it would.

Maybe it’s just the disguise of anonymity.

or maybe I’m just awesome.

I’d say it’s the first thing ;)

hey!

It’s what you getting for being so unserious when I’m being vulnerable.

fair enough.

I need to get going, but you hang in, ‘kay?

If anything, drop a message and I’ll get back to you once I can.

thanks, Marty. honestly. sorry for bothering you.

Oh, come on. What’s this app for if not talking about something depressing at 2 in the afternoon? I read the pamphlet.

Besides, I owe you for the other night.

You really helped.

My kid’s asking for more giraffe facts. He enjoyed the ones I passed on.

Buck startles at that. The fact that Marty has a life of his own slipped past his mind. Marty’s out there, wherever he is, passing on something to his kid that Buck, a stranger, told him over an anonymous support system. He feels oddly perceived.

hey, you don’t owe me anything

and you know what, I’ll make a whole spreadsheet of giraffe facts if it’d make your kid happy. I love kids.

You really don’t need to do that.

Sorry if it’s too personal, but do you have any kids of your own?

Buck starts typing yes and right before he hits the send button, he realizes it isn’t true.

that’s a very difficult question to answer

I’d like to think so, but I’m not sure

maybe I’ll explain another time, you said you need to get going

Yep. These waffles are not gonna flip themselves.

Hope you have a better day ahead, Ten.

good luck with those waffles.

Marty sends him a thumbs-up emoji in response and Buck finally pockets his phone, meeting the empty bunk room in a new light. Oddly enough, talking to Marty felt just as comforting as if he’d called Maddie or Eddie.

He lets the tears spill out and roam free, allowing himself to grieve a girl he hadn’t known existed until today, but a girl whose loss he will carry with him forever, just like all the ones before.

His phone dings. He eagerly reaches for it, expecting another message from Marty. But it’s not a notification from the Fireapp.

The funeral went great. How’s work? You up for dinner after shift?

He completely forgot that he could call Natalia.