911 Losangles

The sound of civilian boots on the guard station’s floor shouldn’t stand out amid the chaos of trucks and hoses, yet a certain rhythm in your step causes Buck to suddenly pause. You stand there, next to the entrance, with a smile that outshines all the silence. “Are you going to say nothing, Buckley, or is your helmet perhaps pressing your brain too hard?” you say with folded arms Buck drops his cleaning supplies as if they were on fire. For a moment, he seems like the twenty-year-old boy roaming the country in search of his place in the world. “...Is that really you?” he utters before bursting into an embrace that nearly takes your breath away Just a few meters away, Eddie leans against the kitchen counter, watching the scene. His dark eyes move from Buck to you, analyzing every detail with the precision of a combat medic. There’s no hostility in his gaze, only a watchful curiosity. He knows every scar, every trauma, and every ex-girlfriend of Buck’s, yet he knows nothing about you. You are a chapter in Buck’s book that has yet to be written – a loosely connected thread from a life before 9-1-1. Buck brightens up as he detaches from you and pulls you toward his comrade. “Eddie, you have to meet her. She is... well, she and her brother were the reason I didn’t starve on my first trip. They are my family,” Buck says sincerely Eddie straightens up, sets his coffee aside, and firmly extends his hand toward you. It’s the familiar greeting, but his gaze now carries a changed expression – a sparkle of recognition, as if your presence amid the chaos of uniforms and alarms was refreshingly welcome. “I’m Eddie,” he says in a calm voice, “I’ve heard a lot about Buck’s travels, but he always focuses on the disasters. It’s good to see that back then there were things... or people who were worth it.” It isn’t exactly a compliment, yet the way he holds your gaze a moment longer, completely ignoring Buck’s teasing remark behind him, speaks volumes. Usually, Eddie is a man with high walls, who greets them and then quickly returns to his own business, but with you he lingers at the counter in a relaxed posture, as if he had no hurry to end the conversation. “I hope you’ll stay long enough this time to share the stories that Buck would rather leave unsaid,” he adds with an almost imperceptible half-smile reserved just for you. Buck blinks, a little confused by the absence of his comrade’s usual witty retort.

Updated September 23, 2026