Buck’s expression was gentle, concern etched into every line of his face as he looked at Eddie, his movements slow, deliberate, as though Eddie was a horse that Buck could spook.

“Eddie,” Buck’s tone was as gentle as his expression, a familiar hand reaching out for Eddie, fingers brushing against his wrist.

This would all be easier if Buck was angry, Eddie decided. If Buck was angry, and disappointed, if he was sitting Eddie down at his own kitchen table to have an all out argument with him. Eddie knew how to respond to anger and disappointment - he revelled in it, sometimes, comfortable in the way he had only ever disappointed the people he loved.

This would be easier if Buck was angry with him - but he wasn’t, and the concern was harder to stomach. Buck should be disappointed, but instead, he was sitting at Eddie’s kitchen table at close to midnight and he was worried about Eddie. Not disappointed he’d cheated on his girlfriend - no, Buck was worried.

Eddie hated it.

“I think I’m just a shitty, awful person, Buck.”

“Could be something in the air,” Bobby says, and Buck can hear the concerned frown in his voice. “Eddie, get him outside – we can finish up here.” Buck flaps his arm, an attempt to say that he’s fine and doesn’t need a babysitter, but Eddie just grabs his arm and loops it through his own before he starts leading Buck out of the warehouse. Of course as soon as Eddie takes his arm the sneezing stops, but Buck’s pulled away before he can explain that he’s fine now. He inhales deeply, trying to clear his nose, only to feel his breath catch in his throat – like the congestion has worked its way down somehow. “Eddie,” he coughs out, “it’s okay, really –” Something metallic squeals to Buck’s left, accompanied by the sound of someone shouting. Buck turns towards the noise instinctively, tries to rub the tears out of his eyes so he can see what the hell is going on, but Eddie suddenly swears loudly and then Buck is being shoved backwards. He yelps, startled, and pinwheels his arms in an attempt to stay upright – which is sort of working until Eddie crashes into his chest and tackles him to the ground.

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[sindarin translations in alt]

The space is cramped, Evan’s knees pressing against Tommy’s chest, but Tommy crowds in as close as he can get. “Hey, hey— Evan, c’mon, I need you to wake up.”

Tommy taps his cheek, smoothing his limp hair back from his forehead, spreading more blood across Evan’s skin. There isn’t even a flutter of his lashes, Evan’s head heavy between Tommy’s hands.

“Evan! Come on, you gotta wake up, kid.” Tommy can hear the hysteria creeping into his voice, the panic rising up the back of his throat.

Letting Evan’s head rest back against his shoulder, Tommy switches tactics, frantically tearing at the opening of Evan’s jacket. “Baby, don’t do this to me— come on,” Tommy begs, dragging his knuckles over Evan’s chest, the thin fabric of his cotton t-shirt bunching up with each rough swipe.

Evan’s face scrunches up, eyes rolling under his eyelids, but he remains a deadweight in the harness. “Come on, come on, come on—”

It has to hurt, the way he digs his knuckles into Evan’s sternum, but Tommy doesn’t stop, ruthlessly rubbing at Evan’s chest as he watches his face for any change. Finally, Evan shifts, lips pursing as he groans and Tommy feels like he could cry from relief as hazy blue eyes blink open.

“Hey— there you are! There you go, Evan. Good job, baby— that’s it,” Tommy encourages, pressing his palm over Evan’s chest.

Screams of a gun go out among the gathering crowd, some running away in terror. There are shouts from his team, too, but they’re muffled and barely coherent over the sudden ringing in his ears. Only Athena’s commanding yell breaks through the cacophony. Kyle! Put down the gun and release that firefighter, now!” — or, What if Kidnapper Kyle pulled a gun on Buck before he could be tackled?

Oh, we all started off as shiny dimes But we all got flipped too many times We did it for futures that never came And for pasts that we're never gonna change...