Chapter Text
Buck locked the door and threw the keys still in his hand onto the side table like he always did. He didn’t always remember locking it, a bad habit which both Eddie and Maddie complained about.
But today he did.
He shrugged off his jacket as he ventured into the apartment, stretching his neck to work out the tension the day had left him with. The fear when he was told that the entire dispatch center had been taken hostage still clung heavily onto him, and his neck bore the consequences.
He rolled his shoulders as he opened the fridge, scanned all the shelves and then closed it with a sigh.
He would have to go grocery shopping soon. Usually, he ate at Eddie’s place, which left him with the current unfortunate circumstance of an empty fridge except for the expired apples and the bottles of hot sauce.
The cupboard did contain a can of tomato soup, and looking deeper into another one, he found an open packet of plain crackers.
The thought of just ordering in flickered, but he had already eaten so much Chinese and fried chicken lately that he had started getting tired of it, which was something he never thought would happen.
Besides, he had promised his boyfriend he would start cooking meals. And technically, this would count as cooking since he needed a pot and a stove to heat the soup. Maybe he should send Eddie a photo of it later, showing off his very proficient kitchen skills. He laughed to himself as he imagined Eddie's reaction.
It had been going well between them lately. The rough patches at the beginning of their relationship had mostly smoothed down by now. And by no accounts did that mean it was always perfect, but it was more than Buck could ever have hoped for. It had just been a few months, but it felt like so much more time had passed.
Tomorrow, Chris would be at a sleepover, which all three of them were very happy about, which meant Eddie would come stay at his place. He should probably put away the laundry he did-
Wait. He groaned when he remembered he did not, in fact, do the laundry yesterday. It was still lying in a pile in front of the washing machine. Damn, he really didn’t want to do it.
But he also didn’t want Eddie to see the same shirt Buck had spilled wine on when he was there two weeks ago, still unwashed. He could just hide it, but some stupid, adult part of his brain said it was better to have done it. He did miss the shirt.
The playlist he put on to dampen the silence and give him at least an ounce of motivation quickly filled the room. He turned it up to the highest, singing to himself as he questioned the next course of action.
Shower, food and laundry. In what order should he do them in?
He had so many difficult decisions in his life.
Feeling the hot water on his skin made him realise that showering first was the best option indeed. The last of the mention seemed to melt away with the water, and through the rushing sound, the music broke through. It must have been five songs before he even started moving, his mind turning into mush under the water.
He was safe here, and Maddie was, too. She hadn’t texted or called him, and no one had either. That meant there was nothing to worry about.
Still, the awful feeling from the day lay heavy and Buck knew it would take more than a hot shower for that to go away. The fear of losing his sister had just started receding after Doug, and now this?
He was just happy everything had turned out alright in the end.
Eventually, after having washed himself, he turned off the water and immediately regretted it as he opened the glass door. He dried himself off and looked for his robe, and then groaned when he saw it lying under the gray, muddy sweatshirt in front of the washing machine.
He should have done the laundry yesterday as he had planned. Or last week when he should actually have done it. There were, like, 2 pairs of socks left in his closet and none of them matched.
Praying the light, light gray could be washed with the darks, he pressed closed the washing machine’s door and started it. The shortest washing-and-drying program would probably be enough. It was water, soap, and air either way; time shouldn’t be that important, he figured.
The green sweater he found still thrown on a chair in his room was warm on his skin, the shower’s heat having been stolen by the AC’s cool air. He toweled off his face as he ventured downstairs to prepare himself a very fine dinner.
The crackers were slightly chewy, but they were still edible, and he cursed himself for just leaving the package standing open. The cupboard didn’t protect against the humid air, he knew. Well, now he knew it, if nothing else.
He had gotten the tomato soup for cheaper since the brand had been selling out - at least, that’s what the bright orange sticker on the can had said. It tasted like it, too.
Halfway through, he sent a picture to Eddie, and then continued scrolling through his phone. until he heard the faintest sound from the hallway. He turned his head around, leaning as much as he could to get a good look without having to leave the chair.
“Hello?” He called, wondering if maybe Maddie or Eddie was outside. Just as he was about to turn back around, something caught his eye. The lock on the door was turned vertically instead of horizontally. It was unlocked.
Alarmed, he cautiously stood up. “Eddie?”
When no one answered, he tried again.
“Maddie?”
He frowned because they were the only ones who had keys to his apartment. Well, them and the landlord, but he always let Buck know beforehand. Buck slowly made his way to the door, carefully looking around as his heart beat just a bit faster.
He tried the handle and found it unlocked as expected. There was no one in the corridor or in the hallway. The keys were still on the side table and nothing else looked out of place.
He must have just forgotten to lock the door, even though he had stark memories of actually doing it. But he also thought he had memories from yesterday doing the laundry, and that obviously hadn’t been done.
Still, he felt a little uneasy as he locked the door. Buck took a round through the bottom floor, but there was no one there. His frown disappeared and he laughed a little at himself, because how could he be a firefighter and so easily scared by his own bad memory?
Well, now the door was locked, and when he had finished the tomato soup, it still was.
On his phone, he saw he had gotten a text from Eddie, and he smiled at the picture of Chris giving him a thumbs up attached.
Eddie: Masterchef
He smiled, all the other worries forgotten, as he typed his response.
Buck: next date i’ll cook you a 3 course dinner of can food
He had another can of the same tomato soup which could serve as a very high-end starter. Maybe canned peaches for dessert. He pictured Eddie eating them, and knew he would hate it. Eddie didn’t like things too sweet, and peaches in sugar syrup would be one of those.
Yep, that would be the dessert. Eddie’s reaction would be nice.
In the little pause as one song on the playlist turned into another, he could hear the washing machine beep twice. Why was there so much to do in life? All he wanted was to lie down and not move for as many hours as possible until he had to go to work the next day. He put down the bowl and pot in the sink, letting it soak or something so he could deal with it later.
He took his phone in one hand, the music still playing loudly. He changed the song, pausing mid-step to do so. Eddie still hasn’t texted back, and he couldn’t help the pout forming on his lips.
Buck crouched down in front of the washing machine, cringing as he pulled out still-damp clothes from it into the laundry basket. Maybe he could just throw it on the bed for an hour to let it dry completely.
He tried turning up the music on his phone, but it was still at the highest setting. A speaker would probably be a good investment.
He stood and used one arm to carry the laundry basket, pressing in against his hip for support, and the other he used to scroll through his playlist to find another song. He should really start deleting the songs he didn’t like anymore instead of always having to skip them.
But that would mean actually putting in the time to do so. He would just have to save it for another day.
A few steps into his room and he got a strange feeling, making him frown. He lowered the music.
Just as he was about to turn around, a hand grabbed his hair and bashed his head into the closet door to the right of him. He dropped his phone and laundry basket as his head was again slammed against the closet, making him groan in pain.
An awful pain exploded immediately, the skin on his forehead splitting, and his entire world became blurry and confused panic coursed through him.
There was someone-
A third time, and his knees crumpled, but someone caught him before he crashed to the floor. Nausea hit his throat as his vision blackened, and he tried to pull loose from the grip but his entire world was spinning and his head was pulsating and he had no idea what was happening.
Leather-gloved hands all but dragged him through the room and he couldn’t even fight, so busy trying to make it all make sense. The person, because it must be a person, handss didn’t just appear, threw him face-first onto his bed.
The impact, even though soft against his head made his world spin even more, and he had to hold back the bile rising.
“What-” He began, trying to get up on his elbows, but was pushed back down on the bed by a hand at his upper back.
His head was still blinding with pain, and everything was moving so fast around him that he barely understood what was happening. But he knew someone was there that shouldn’t be, but he could barely move from the pulsating ache. Heavy hands were still holding him down.
“What are you-,” He managed to grate out, unsure if the noise that left him was the words he wanted.
“Shut up,” A voice he didn’t recognize said, but it sounded like it came from under the water, like there was a great fog separating them.
The distant sound of fabric moving, and then the feeling of a hand at the waistband of his pants finally brought some clarity back.
“No, no, no,” Buck said, voice sounding like a whisper, as he pushed up again, kicking out, adrenaline dampening the pain, making images of blue sheets and white walls and a man dressed in black with a ski mask on clear.
The man above him groaned as Buck managed to connect his foot with something, and for a second, his grip loosened. He rolled around, almost managing to sit up before his vision blackened for a second, dizziness making the room around him spin, making Buck spin, making the world stop making sense.
Within a second, hands were on him again, knees on either side of Buck’s legs as a weight pressed down on them, making him unable to move them.
He tried to hit the man, tried to shove him away, tried to get away, screamed, but all of that was cut short as a fist connected with his cheek, and then another hit his eye, another split his lip, another made his face ache, another, another, until Buck stopped moving altogether.
He could barely breathe, confusion and panic and pain in every sense that he was.
The man didn’t say anything as he flipped Buck around again, and all Buck could do was let him. For a second, the entire world went black, and the next time he managed to blink, the weight on his legs was gone.
Then everything paused as his pants were roughly torn down his legs. He tried to get up, tried to do anything, something, but it was as if his body refused to cooperate.
“Be still,” The voice said again, and for a second the hand on his back holding him down disappeared, but before he could even feel the slightest bit of a relief, he could hear the rustle of jeans and Buck knew what was going to happen.
“No,” he pleaded, repeating the words from before. “No, don’t-”
The man just hushed him, interlacing his fingers in Buck’s hair before he tightened the grip painfully. His head was turned to the side, and there was a pause.
“You really are pretty.” The man’s voice sounded pleased. Confident. Turned on.
Oh god, no. “Please.”
And then the man laughed. Buck’s eyes were burning, and he could barely move his body, his head and face aching, the world never staying still.
The realization that it was going to happen hit him hard as tears spilled out of his eyes. One hand had Buck’s left hip in a bruising hold, while the other-
Both Eddie and Maddie were at their respective houses, and no one else ever visited him.
No one would know what was currently happening.
The man
just
wouldn't
stop.
The music from his phone was still playing.
and it
didn’t
stop.
He tried to imagine someplace else. That he was lounging on a couch at the station, stargazing with Eddie, getting wine drunk on a Tuesday with Maddie. But those visions barely lasted, his headache making them few and fleeing.
It never stopped.
Until it did.
Minutes or decades later, it stopped. The man said things Buck couldn’t hear through the fog all around him, and then he left.
Left like it had never happened. Like it wasn’t a big deal.
Buck called him sick the next morning, citing an awful flu that managed to keep even Eddie away with enough convincing. Because after all, if Eddie got sick, who would look after Chris? Even worse, what if Chris got sick?
In the end, he managed to stay away from everything and everyone for two weeks until it would be more of an issue if he didn’t return. The few times he actually answered their calls they had started trying to convince him to visit a doctor.
“You sound awful, Buck. You’re sure there’s nothing you need?” Eddie had said, and then Buck forced a cough and hung up as soon as possible
Eddie texted a lot. Buck barely answered.
The two weeks healed most of the bruises and cuts. At day ten, the yellow and greens had almost disappeared from his face, and the cuts had long since scabbed and were slowly leaving as well. Like it had never happened.
That time he had barely left his couch. He stayed away from the bedroom. Sometimes he managed to fall asleep, but always woke cold and clammy, sweat drying sticky on his skin.
The metal can that had contained the tomato soup was still on the counter.
But he had a perfect view of the front door. This time, he would notice if he came back.
The man didn’t. Came in like a hellstorm before leaving, disappearing like it never happened, like he hadn’t done something Buck didn’t know how to even begin to process. Like he hadn’t taken something from Buck that he didn’t know he had, but now missed so much it hurt to breathe.
Maddie had dropped off chicken soup outside his door at the one-week mark, but he hadn’t been able to stomach it without throwing up. Couldn’t eat anything.
But Buck was good at lying, was good at suppressing the things that bothered him. Had done that his entire life; a skill honed through childhood and perfected in adulthood.
Something had torn during it, and that took a few days until it didn’t hurt sitting down anymore.
Maddie had dropped off chicken soup outside his door, but he hadn’t been able to stomach it without throwing up.
He had locked every door and window he had. It hadn’t mattered before,
He didn’t report it. One time he had stared at the phone and the thought had crossed his mind, but that was only once and short-lived. Maybe he should have, but the more days that passed, the harder it became to even think about it.
So, when the two-week mark had come he found himself promising Bobby to come in the next day so Bobby wouldn’t break down his door. But didn’t want to go back to life before. Didn’t want to leave his space where nothing existed and where nothing mattered, when there wasn’t a life to be had nor something to lose. Where it was just him and the couch, and nothing else. But he had to.
The first day and Eddie went to save a kid down in a well. During a few moments, Buck was sure he had died. But then he emerged, dirty and muddy and exhausted but alive.
Buck wanted to come up from his well, but he didn’t know how to.
”That was so stupid of you,” Buck said as he hugged Eddie close, pushing him hard against his chest and hoping he would never have to let go. That this was something he could keep, something that no one could take from him. He wanted to kiss him, but they were still outside, still on the job.
”I know.”
“I’m happy you didn’t get buried alive,” Buck said and then Eddie huffed a laugh and pulled back.
“Me too. If I were, I would never get the candlelit canned food date you promised me,” Eddie said, amusement in his voice while his hands still gripped his shoulders.
Buck’s throat seized up, memories of the unlocked door and damp laundry flashing through his mind. The panic must have been visible because Eddie frowned.
“I never promised you candles,” Buck said while he laughed a little, and while Eddie stopped frowning, there was a look in his eyes Buck didn’t like.
But then Eddie smiled, like all was forgotten, then let him go and started towards the truck.
“You coming?”
When he got home later in the evening, having managed to brush Eddie of and tell him to spend time with Chris, he locked the door after him and then went straight to his room. Without thinking, without feeling, without remembering, he tore off the blue bedsheets, pressed them into a black trash bag, and then went outside to throw that into the big dumpster out back of the apartment complex.
Back inside, he put on new ones - green, this time - and wiped away the dried blood on the closet door from where his forehead had-
And then it had never happened. Then he could sleep in his bed again, could exist within those walls.
He lasted 5 minutes before he started hyperventilating, tears burning and hands trembling as he all but ran out of the room down to the couch.
The front door was locked.
And then life went back to normal, like it always did. So, instead of dealing with it, instead of talking to someone about it, he threw himself back into work. He saved a deaf woman from a fire, helped a kid down a tree, and then dived deep into Red and his story. Because that had been him once, and it could still be again. Tried to help Red regain what he had lost, what he had given up, make him whole again. Tried to fix it, tried to undo something which still could be undone, which could be mended.
But even that he had fucked up.
And then Red had died.
Eddie had waited outside the hospital for him afterwards, sitting on a bench under the dark, dark sky.
“You okay?”
Buck took his hand without a word and pulled him along to the car. Watching Eddie drive, as the city’s light painted his face a kaleidoscope of colors, he felt himself relax.
“Isn’t Chris home?” Buck said when he opened the door to a dark house, not even one single lamp was turned on.
“I called Carla and asked her to take him tonight,” Eddie answered as he closed the door, Buck’s eyes on his hands as he turned the lock.
“Any special reason for that?” Buck instantly made his way to the couch. He hadn’t been hungry since that day, and he had absolutely no energy to stay in the kitchen. If Eddie wanted to eat, he could do that. Buck planned not to move an inch the entire night.
“I’m still off from today, not to mention you,” Eddie said as he turned on the light Buck had chosen to ignore, ”and I was thinking he should talk.”
Buck threw himself down onto the couch, frowning at the last part.
“Talk about what?”
When he had turned himself around and dragged himself up halfway to rest against a cushion, Eddie was watching him intently with crossed arms and searching eyes.
“It's just…What’s going on?” Eddie finally said, making Buck’s heart pick up speed. Trying to seem nonchalant, he went for confusion.
“What?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Guilt for avoiding him struck hard because Buck had been doing that as often as he could. Brushed him off after work, made up excuses, was more than not quiet because talking, which he had loved to do, was exhausting. He had hoped Eddie wouldn’t notice, or at least not ask about it, but it was inevitable in the end. Eddie knew him better than Buck knew himself sometimes, so of course, he would notice that Buck had changed.
Because he had changed.
He didn’t know why he had avoided Eddie, not really. He just-
“I don’t, Eddie. What is it?”
He just didn’t want to talk about it. Because Eddie wasn’t stupid, and Buck had never been good at hiding things from him. Current moment proof of that. The irritation in his own voice threw him off, not having intended his words to sound like that.
“You’ve been pulling away, you know,” And when Buck opened his mouth to protest, he continued,“ and it’s not just because of Red. It was before that, ever since you got sick.”
Buck looked away, avoiding the heavy gaze that lay upon him.
“I’ve just been tried,” He mumbled, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
“Are you sure that’s all it is? Nothing you want to talk about?”
There were a lot of things Buck should say. So many things he should tell him. The door that had been locked, the blue sheets, the unlocked door, the taste of the canned tomato soup, the man in his room.
“Yeah, it’s nothing else, Eddie. I’m just tired.”
He tried to pretend he didn't notice Eddie's disappointed sigh. "Alright then."
“You know you’re not him, right?” Eddie said after putting away the plate he had been drying.
His boyfriend had ended up cooking dinner, which Buck had been forced to eat, but he couldn’t stomach more than three bites. Eddie had looked at him, so worriedly, words on the tip of his tongue that he had held back, a conversation he wanted to start again that Buck had shut off.
“I know,” Buck agreed, but words tasted wrong. In this direction, Red's future wasn't so far off.
Like a spooked horse, Buck started avoiding Eddie as much as possible after that. He missed him and felt horrible about it, but he didn’t want Eddie to know, didn’t want to look at Eddie with guilt so heavy in his chest for words he should have spoken.
They hadn’t had sex for a month by now. Before, it was almost every day, but now Buck had no interest in it whatsoever. It was vulnerable, it was telling Eddie everything he couldn't, it was a connection. It was saying what had happened. Eddie tried to initiate it one night, came up behind him and put his hands on Buck’s hips, but had pulled back the second his unexpected touch caused a full-body flinch through Buck.
Eddie had apologized even though it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault it happened, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault Buck was growing distant, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault Buck didn’t want to have sex. None of it was Eddie’s fault.
Buck had always been good at pretending. Good at pretending to accidentally fall while he stepped too far out on a tree branch when he knew his mother was looking, good at pretending that he was completely fine, and good at pretending that night in his apartment had never happened.
Because if he didn’t think about it, then it couldn’t have happened. There was no evidence left in the room, and the only things left had been washed away down the shower drain. No one to see what had happened except the two of them, and Buck knew the man wasn’t going to say anything, at least not to anyone Buck knew.
There was no proof it had happened, no witness, no nothing. So then it couldn’t have happened.
He was good at pushing things down, at letting them simmer deep under his skin until his blood started to boil but the steam mixed with his breath and then it was gone. Buried deep where no one would ever find it.
He should have reported it. It had been over a month since it happened, and the thought visited every so often. he should have called the police, should have let them do a-
Let them collect evidence, so they could identify the man and then it would never happen to someone else. Because if it happened to Buck, then there must have been someone else.
Or maybe there wasn’t. He hoped not.
The thought made him sick to his stomach.
“Hey, Buck? Come with me a second,” Bobby called as Buck was just finishing putting his helmet away.
“Wow, one-on-one with the captain? Did I do something special to earn this?”
Bobby looked at him with an expression Buck had never seen on him before. It made him pause for a second.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just come along, please,” Bobby said as if that cleared anything up. Buck exchanged equally confused looks with Eddie when he went past him, shrugging his shoulders.
Bobby didn’t say anything else as he led Buck into one of the meeting rooms upstairs. He opened the closed door, and Buck frowned in confusion as he saw Athena and a guy he didn’t recognize sitting on one of the couches. In front of them on the table was a closed laptop.
Bobby gently ushered him inside when he stopped in the doorway.
“What- What’s going on guys?” Buck asked as he looked around, wondering what they could possibly want him here for.
Athena and the guy exchanged looks.
“Why don’t you take a seat, honey,” Athena said as she gestured at the couch opposite them. Buck continued standing, however, agitation and worry slowly filling him.
“Who’s that?” He said and nodded at the guy.
“I’m Detective Lou Ransone, and I’m working with Athena here on a case,” The guy, detective, his mind corrected, said as if to explain something. What that could be, however, was completely lost to him.
”What case? You’re starting to freak me out, guys. What’s happening?”
His mind was completely whirling, different possibilities streaming through. Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit down, and he followed along with it, mind far too occupied to think of protesting. What was even happening?
“We thought it would be easier for you to do this here than at the police station,” the detective said, and Buck felt like he was completely missing something. Was it obvious or was he just stupid?
“What?” Buck said, for lack of better words. The couch dipped down as Bobby sat down next to him. Why they needed three people to be here - two police officers and his captain - must mean it was something big. But why was no one else here? Why was it only him?
He couldn’t remember doing anything that he shouldn’t have. Bobby would have told him if he did, but he hadn’t said anything. Or were they just waiting for this moment? Had he managed to fuck up one of the two good things in his life right now?
“There are a few things we need to ask you,” Athena said.
“Is Maddie okay? Did something happen? Is she-”
”She’s okay, Buck.” Athena said, and her voice surprised him. It was soft and gentle, a tone he seldom heard her use when in uniform. It was the voice she used when talking to her kids, when talking to Buck af the hospital after his leg had been crushed. It was used when she talked to v-
“Then what is it? It’s not another bank robbery, is it, because I barely understood that last one,” Buck said, and Bobby huffed a laugh and spoke.
“Buck, it’s not, you’re fine. You’re not accused of anything.”
“Then what’s the deal with Mr Detective over there?” Buck said as he pointed at the man, not caring if he was being impolite.
“Can someone just tell me what’s wrong?”
There was a few seconds of silence, words hanging in the air that it seemed none of the three were particularly keen on voicing.
“So, Mr Buckley-”
“Just Buck.”
“Alright. Buck,” The detective corrected as he took out a yellow manilla folder. “I don’t know what you have been told, but Athena and I have been searching for a…criminal, and we thought you might offer us some help.”
What kind of help Buck could offer them in their work, he had no idea.
“Okay? And what has that got anything to do with me? I haven’t seen anything out on the job.”
“It’s not related to your job, Buck,” Athena said, and the look in her eyes made Buck almost squirm, feeling put off by the sympathy in them. Like she was feeling bad for him.
”Then what is it? Athena?”
“Baby, you need to know that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Or scared of,” She said and Buck’s mind was almost coming to a halt, thoughts starting to whirlwind but never landing on anything. Still, his pulse started speeding up, and he looked around at the rest of them. Maybe he could leave before they said anything more; he could just head for the door, and then this box would remain closed.
None looked particularly uncomfortable, per say, but they looked almost nervous? No, that wasn’t the right word.
“What? I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Tense. They looked tense.
The three of them looked at each other again, and Buck’s stomach started aching. A part of him knew where this was heading, what it could be about, but it had been a month ago, and no one knew, and it hadn’t happened, hadn’t-
He turned to look at Bobby who was almost staring at him, his posture rigid but eyes kind, seeing things in Buck he didn’t want anyone seeing. When he met Buck’s eyes, Bobby nodded at him.
Athena leaned forward and started to open the computer.
“We need to confirm that this person is you. If it becomes too much, let us know and we’ll turn it off.”
“Why would it…” Buck began before trailing off as the computer screen opened fully and Athena pressed play on a video.
A video of him in his bedroom. He felt like throwing up.
The Buck on the screen was wearing that green T-shirt he had thrown away, had music playing on the phone and in his other had he had a loosely held laundry basket. He could see the man enter his room behind him, could feel the bite of the closet as his head was slammed so hard against it that his world had become blurry.
Could feel the man’s hands on him, pushing him towards the bed, saw him punching him in the face.
Remembered getting shoved down face first in his matress as his pants were pulled down, could still feel the pounding headache, the confusion, the dizziness as his mind balanced on the edge of unconsciousness but never managing to fall in.
He remembered trying to get him off, struggling, but it had barely made a difference and blood had been running down his forehead, soaking the blue sheet. Could see the unfamiliar body against his, one hand on his neck, the other on his hips-
The tears streaming down his face, the feeling off immense nausea, of panic, of being in a body that had stopped working as the world kept spinning, the way he hadn’t been able to catch his breath the entire time-
The video had no noise but he could hear the music playing still, could hear his ragged breaths, the man speaking to him, the own awful sounds leaving his throat.
Wanting it to end, wanting the man gone, wanting to get back what he had felt leaving him, the piece he couldn’t replace, wanted it to end, but it never did, it never-
Buck slammed shut the computer in front of him.
“That’s not me,” Buck said, even though all of them knew exactly who they had been looking at on the screen. His jaw was clenched, and he wasn’t sure he was even breathing right.
“Buck…” Bobby began, but Buck cut him off.
“Can I go now?”
All three pairs of eyes were on him, and they were filled with pity, with sympathy, because they all had seen the video before, and more people must have if it was an active investigation, and then there must have been other people-
Had they been after him? Had he caused it to happen by staying silent, by not reporting?
“We understand that it must be difficult, but it would really help us if you could give us any details at all, anything you remember,” the Detective said.
And Buck remembered everything, but it hadn’t happened, so the memories must be false, couldn’t be there. He hadn’t anything to tell because nothing had happened.
The green shirt was gone, the blue sheets, the laundry wasn’t damp anymore and the front door was locked. His hands were trembling, he realized.
“Buck, we need you to be honest with us. He stalks people. You do want to help catch him, don’t you? He’s a serial r-
“Okay, stop it,” Athena interrupted the detective, and then softened her voice so much Buck almost wanted to scream for the rest of her words.
“We’re not here to force you to tell us anything, okay? And I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey. We just want to catch the man who did this to you.”
Bobby was a constant presence at his right, warmth emitting from him, and for some reason, Buck was glad he was there, because he was pretty sure he would have thrown up right there and then on the floor if he wasn’t.
But he didn’t want anyone apologizing, because there was nothing to apologize for. That video wasn’t Buck, because the angle was from the ceiling, and the man hadn’t-
The man hadn’t placed a camera before it happened. It was there when he entered. He must have been there before.
Bile burned his chest as it started to press at the back of his throat.
“I need- I need to get out of here,” Buck managed in a gasp, breaking under the pity and knowledge all thee of them possessed that he didn’t want them to have, that no one should have.
“Buck-”
He stood up and slammed open the door, his legs almost failing him. He hurriedly made his escape down the stairs, desperate to make his escape far from here. Far from the computer containing the worst moment of his life. Far from people who now knew what had happened.
“Buck!” Bobby called behind him as he caught up to Buck’s rapid steps. Buck ignored him, continued walking as he looked down at the floor, refusing to see anyone or anything else, until Bobby gently grabbed his arm and turned him around to face him.
“Buck, please.”
Buck tore his arm free, his chest aching from how hard and fast his heart was beating.
“No, no, just- just, leave me alone. I need to- I need to go.”
Bobby nodded, holding up his hands in surrender in front of him, like trying to calm a spooked horse. By now, they had most of the rigs attention.
“Let me get you some tea, Buck. We’ll go to my office,” Bobby tried, but Buck just shook his head. He needed to leave, needed to run and run and run until nothing had happened, until the door remained locked and the sheets were in a landfill.
“Everything okay here?” Eddie asked, worry in his voice as he came up towards them. Buck looked up for a moment, but looked away the moment he met Eddie’s eyes.
“That wasn’t me- in the video, it wasn’t-” Buck grit out, still desperate for Bobby to realize that it hadn’t been him, that it had been someone else, that it had never happened.
That the guy getting fucked raped against Buck’s bet wasn’t him, it never happened, because if he never thought about it, then it never happened.
But now there was a video, now there was evidence, now the door was unlocked again.
“Okay, it wasn’t you,” Bobby said calmly, taking a step forward. ”Let’s just calm down and go somewhere else.”
Buck looked around, his chest still heaving in breaths that were far too shallow to fill up his lungs. Hen and Chimney were by the truck, he realized when he scanned his surroundings. Their confused and alarmed gazes followed his every movement. It looked like they were going to walk up to him. He took a step back.
“Buck? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Hen said gently, Buck the wild animal that needed soothing.
Without answering, he turned on his heel and all but ran out of the station. He ignored his name being called, ignored everything and everyone because nothing had happened. Nothing had fucking happened, but no one but Buck seemed to get that.
Nothing had happened.