Chapter Text
The two elderly women at Tommy’s door made him think of the number ten. One was taller and angular with an elegant bun of silver hair, while her companion was short and round, hair dyed an incongruous shade of magenta.
“Oh, um, hello Mrs. Jeffries,” Tommy greeted the taller women while he flailed around for magenta hair’s name. He knew she lived in the neighborhood a few blocks away; knew Evan had rescued two of her cats from trees on multiple occasions, but her name was a complete blank.
“Oh please, call me Ruth,” Mrs Jeffries said, smiling sweetly at him.
“And call me Annie,” magenta hair said mercifully, “before you give me any of that ‘Mrs St George’ nonsense.”
“Right,” Tommy said, forcing himself to smile.
There was an awkward pause where the two women seemed to be waiting for something. Annie gave Ruth a nudge, and the old woman gave him another smile and brandished a Tupperware bin, “I baked you some biscotti.”
“Thank you,” Tommy said, taking the container. There was another awkward pause. Sweat broke out on Tommy’s temples.
“It goes well with a cup of coffee,” Annie said, eying him significantly.
“Ah,” Tommy said. He had a brief internal war with himself. Most of him just wanted to say “thanks” then shut the door on their faces. But if he did even burnt sage wouldn’t be enough to keep away his Nonna’s ghost. “I was actually just getting ready to make a pot. Do you want to come in?”
“Oh no,” Ruth said, “We don’t want to impose—”
Tommy forced another smile, “Not at all.” It wasn’t even a lie. Tommy had fuck all in the way of plans today that weren’t wallowing.
Mercifully, Annie brought up the real reason for this visit after a few sips of coffee and small talk. “We haven’t seen your sister since everything happened. Is she okay?”
“Sister-in-law,” Tommy corrected, “She. Um. She moved, actually. A few weeks ago.” Maddie had in fact gone directly to her new place after her discharge from the hospital.
“Oh!” Ruth said, “I’m very sorry to hear that. But I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“It was actually in the works before…before,” Tommy said. Although Tommy hadn’t found out until Maddie asked if Evan would mind packing the rest of her room up the day before she was discharged from the hospital. Which was something Tommy was totally cool with and not at all irrationally upset by. Maddie was an adult woman who naturally wanted her own place and didn’t need to run decisions by Tommy.
“We haven’t seen Buck much these past few weeks either,” Annie said, eyebrows raised significantly.
“He’s been helping her get situated in her new place,” Tommy said, “She’s better, but she’s still recovering and needed someone to help.” It was another thing that Tommy was totally cool with and not upset or pissed off about. Being pissed off about Evan staying with his sister who was recovering from such a devastating event would go beyond even his normal asshole baseline.
So he wasn’t pissed off that Evan was staying with her more nights than not, and only stopping by their home for conjugal visits. How could he be pissed off when, on the rare occasions Evan fell asleep after, he woke up from nightmares shouting Maddie’s name? Evan would be unable to get back to sleep until he could call her.
Tommy’s own nightmares—Bobby calling and saying Evan was DOA, or that Maddie had been shot down over Najaf, or opening the bathroom door and seeing the tub filled with pink water—were incidental. So was the empty house and bed, quiet after months of sharing it with two other people.
“Oh, you poor thing, have you been all alone?” Ruth asked, “If I knew that I would have checked on you sooner. Is there anything you need?”
Tommy blinked, “What? Oh, no. Thank you. I’m fine. I wasn’t even here when everything happened.”
Annie snorted, “Well, I know I’ve been having some horrible nightmares, just knowing it happened at all.” She shuddered, “Here, in this neighborhood! I used to roll my eyes at Frank’s whole ‘Neighborhood Watch’ shtick, but you just never can tell, can you?”
Tommy’s stomach dropped at her casual mention of Mr. Rossi. It must have shown on his face, because Ruth quickly said, “I hope that nice young woman isn’t feeling guilty about Frank. If she is, tell her to stop. That old coot would have died of shame anyway, if a lady was kidnapped from his neighborhood and he did nothing to stop it.”
Tommy swallowed and took a deliberate sip of coffee. Maddie had wanted to go to Mr. Rossi’s funeral, but was still in the hospital. Tommy and Evan went in her stead, and it was fucking awful.
“Yeah, I’ll give that nosy old goat that much,” Annie said, “He had some chivalry in him. Even if it was mostly asking if my own sons were ‘bothering me’ when they were just being brats.”
“Right,” Tommy said.
“What about Maddie’s special friend?” Ruth said, “That nice oriental man. Is he alright too?”
“Lord’s sake, Ruth!” Annie burst in before Tommy could answer, “People don’t say that anymore!”
“What?” Ruth blinked, cheeks getting pink.
“‘Oriental’ is for rugs, not people. Asian American. I know Beth’s told you that.”
“Most people don’t say ‘special friend’ either,” slipped out of Tommy’s mouth, “Um, Howie is fine. Recovering. He’s back home now too.”
“Oh! Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ruth said, smiling, “He was very friendly, and she just lit up around him.”
Tommy had a feeling the two women would have preferred to linger over coffee and biscotti for a lot longer, but he’d hit his limit. He made a show of checking his watch and saying, “Actually, speaking of Howie, I told him I’d drop by this afternoon.”
“Of course,” Annie said smoothly, “Thank you for taking time for us old ladies.”
“Yes!” Ruth said brightly, smiling at Tommy with genuine warmth, “Tell your sister-in-law not to be a stranger, and we’re all thinking about her.”
“And tell Buck that Fellini and Hitchcock say hello,” Annie added.
“Who?”
“My cats,” Annie said, “The ones he rescued.”
“She’s got a Godard and a Kazan too,” Ruth said.
“Why are your cats named--”
“After seminal directors of Hollywood’s golden age of cinema? What else to name loudmouthed, tiny dictators who love rubbing up against people who hate them?” Annie laughed at her own wit on the way out the door.
Evan never mentioned the cats’ names when he told Tommy the story of rescuing Annie’s cats. Tommy would have remembered.
It would be really fucking weird for Tommy to be hurt by that. Evan had probably just forgotten the names, if he even registered them in the first place. The Kuwaiti teenager that acted as their translator in Baghdad had better cinematic literacy than Evan Buckley. It wasn’t a deliberate omission, and even if it was, so what?
Tommy went to his DVD collection. He didn’t have actual plans to visit Howie, but getting out of the house was a good idea. He scanned the shelves, he was pretty sure he had a copy of La Dolce Vita. He briefly considered Rear Window, but that was a bit on the nose. Last Tommy checked Howie had been going pretty stir crazy.
He wasn’t upset. There was no logical reason to be upset.
A few days ago Tommy tried watching Love Actually, even though it wasn’t Christmas time. He actually hadn’t watched it since before he married Evan, he didn’t want to hear his commentary. He knew that ninety-five percent of that film was poorly aged trash, but it never failed to cheer him up.
At least not until a few days ago. Tommy had to turn it off half way through, feeling…enraged for reasons he couldn’t even begin to explain to himself. Bill Nighy’s character and his manager should have kissed, Andrew Lincoln, Chiwetel Ejiofer, and Kiera Knightly should have been a threesome. And the Emma Thompson should have divorced her cheating asshole husband and gotten with an intern played by Colin Farrell instead of locking everything inside for the sake of her kids. Those weren’t new criticisms, even if it took him coming out to fully articulate them. Getting angry at a twenty year old romcom for its aggressive heteronormativity was a stupid waste of energy.
Maybe he should go on a run instead of inflicting himself on Howie. Maybe it was a good thing Evan wasn’t home to witness how irrational and selfish his husband could be.
That argument wasn’t very convincing. He had enough self-awareness to know that the real reason every stupid fucking thing was getting to him was very simple: He missed his husband. Even when Evan was actually home Tommy missed him. Unless they were fucking, Evan was withdrawn and distracted, answering Tommy’s questions about his day with single word answers.
It didn’t matter how often Tommy told himself this was only to be expected after everything that happened. If those frantic hours trying to prepare himself for the worst was bad for Tommy it was a thousand times worse for Evan. He had only to remember the way Evan fell apart in his arms at the hospital, clinging to him and trembling.
Tommy found La Dolce Vita on what he thought of as his “foreign films, mildly pretentious” section. After further consideration he left it in its place and pulled My Cousin Vinny and Groundhog Day from the 90s comedy section. Howie was still on painkillers, probably wouldn’t be up for subtitles.
He shot Evan a quick, unnecessary text to let him know he would be at Howie’s. He hesitated a moment, then sent:
Will you be home after your shift, or are you going to Maddie’s?
There was no reply, which Tommy knew he shouldn’t read into. Evan was on shift, he might be on a scene and unable to check his phone for hours.
If you go to Maddie’s I’ll stop and make the two of you breakfast before I go on shift.
His phone buzzed just as he was getting behind the wheel of his truck.
Tell Chimney no one here misses him, especially not Hen.
Don’t worry about breakfast. There’s a diner within walking distance she likes to go to. Get your rest, don’t need you falling asleep during a hoist rescue.
“Oh. Okay,” Tommy said to himself. His services were not required, and Tommy was fine with that.
***************************************
“I’m going back to work tomorrow,” Maddie announced over breakfast.
Buck froze, forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth, “Already?”
She rolled her eyes, “No, finally.
I have to start putting little pieces of my life together. And work is a very big piece.”
“It seems like you’re moving too fast,” Buck said, “What about your meetings?”
“I will still see my therapist, and go to my support groups. And I am more than capable of driving myself to all of those places,” she said the last part pointedly.
“You need time to heal,” Buck said, “I mean, those painkillers are no joke, I don’t mind driving you if I’m not working.”
“I’ve been healing,” she said, “For weeks. I don’t need to take anything stronger than Tylenol anymore. I’m sick of resting, I’m tired of talking about my feelings, and I just want to go back to the real world.”
“Even if you’re not ready?”
“Once my life is normal again I will feel normal,” Maddie insisted.
“I don’t think it works that way,” Buck said.
“Going forward is what I need,” Maddie said. She took a breath, “And you need to stop sleeping on the air mattress in my dining room go home to your husband.."
“Hey, now, whoah, this isn’t about me,” Buck said, “Don’t worry about that, okay? Tommy is, he’s fine, he’s cool, he understands.”
Maddie stilled, looking closely at him. Buck dropped his eyes to his hands. He was fiddling unconsciously with his wedding ring, left thumb spinning it in circles.
“Buck,” Maddie said quietly, “Have you…have you had a chance to talk to him? About the stuff you told me before…”
“I’ve had other things on my mind,” Buck said.
“Do you remember me saying that’s one of the reasons I needed to move out in the first place? I don’t want to cause problems with your marriage.”
“You aren’t,” Buck insisted, “I told you, he understands.”
Tommy had been nothing but understanding. Brushed away Buck’s apologies and guilt over the gun right away. That was good. Buck didn’t want Tommy to be mad at him. Buck had been dreading a lecture or an argument since his first night back home. Buck came back to the house after spending the day at the hospital with Maddie to find that Tommy had already fixed the strike plate on the bedroom door, patched the bullet hole from Maddie’s one wild shot, and scrubbed Chimney’s blood off their floor. By himself.
According to Maddie, Doug forced his way in not long before Chimney was due to show up for their date. She only went for Tommy’s gun because Doug had a knife and Maddie realized he was planning to use it to kill Chimney no matter what she did. It was a decision she was still agonizing over. Wondering if she could have tried convincing Doug to leave immediately. Wondering if she should have waited to make a move when Chimney arrived, if with his help the two of them could have subdued Doug. But it had been the decision of, as Athena had pointed out, a grown woman.
Buck tried to apologize to Tommy anyway, when he first saw him in the hospital and later, once he’d calmed down. Tommy told him not to worry about it, which was good. It made no sense to feel like the reason Tommy understood was because Buck was just a stupid kid and Tommy didn’t expect better from him.
“Well,” Maddie said, “I’m taking Chimney on a date after work tomorrow. Our first date. I’d appreciate it if I had the place to myself.”
“Oh! Right. Right,” Buck said, “Is he…I mean, I know he’s out of the hospital, but—”
“Buck. We’re not going there,” Maddie said firmly, “The point is: I’m fine. Go home. Get back to your life.”
***************************************
Had the weirdest day ever
Will tell you more when I get home
Tommy swore he could hear the Jaws theme as he read Evan’s texts. He wondered if he should call dispatch to check what the 118 could possibly have gotten into to qualify as Evan’s “weirdest day ever.” He had just decided to wait for his husband to come home when he got another text.
I’ll be home in an hour or so, will explain then.
Evan should have had another nine hours left on his shift, but now he would be home in an hour. Tommy hit the call button immediately, and was sent to voicemail. He hung up without saying anything, struggling to keep himself under control. He lasted all of two minutes before giving up and grabbing his running shoes.
It was eleven o’clock at night and most of the houses in the neighborhood were dark as Tommy jogged past. He tried to pace himself and warm up, but he was going full out in a matter of minutes in a way he knew he’d still be paying when it was time for his four on. He could already feel the way he would ache from his shin to his hip the next time he worked the pedals of his bird.
Tommy thought he had finally gotten over himself. Evan had actually been coming home for the past few weeks, only dropping by Maddie’s occasionally to check in on her. Their life was starting to go back to normal.
They’d even met Sal and Gina De Luca for trivia last Thursday, and to Tommy’s utter shock the whole night had been good.
He and Evan hadn’t really gone out with other couples before. Unless you counted Howie and Maddie, who were back to “taking it slow” like they hadn’t been dating for months. When Tommy was with Abby they’d gone out with a few of her couples friends. They were all great people, but it was like when he bit into a sandwich and his teeth hit tinfoil. Some part of him studying the way the men acted around the women, like he would be quizzed on it afterward.
He hadn’t felt anything close to that when he and Evan went out with Sal and Gina. He also hadn’t felt that itch between his shoulder blades whenever Evan pressed into his side or touched his hand, the itch that made him want to check who had seen. (Tommy had noticed Sal staring at one point. Not judgmental, but like he was trying to work out a complicated math problem.)
Sal also had a few too many beers, and at the end of the night he gave Tommy a full body hug and kissed both his cheeks.
“I missed you, man,” Sal said.
“I haven’t had enough to drink to deal with maudlin Guidos,” Tommy muttered, awkwardly patting Sal in the middle of the back. He shot a helpless look Evan and Gina’s way, but they were too busy giggling together. Gina even took her phone out to snap a picture.
“Asshole. I really missed you. Let’s…let’s do this again,” Sal mumbled.
“Will you let go if I promise we will?”
“Only if you also promise it won’t be another three years.”
Things were going well. Or as well as could be expected, they were still first responders and had to deal with the whole job of it all. Maddie’s first day back at work the computers at dispatch had gone down, resulting in the Day From Hell and featuring creative use of the air tanker.
But Tommy still got these bouts of rage that grabbed him with sharp teeth and refused to let go. He didn’t even know who he was so fucking angry at. Evan? His husband was still quieter than normal, but he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Doug Kendall? That piece of shit was dead. The dickheads at the LAPD crime unit who took everything from their bedroom that wasn’t nailed down and still hadn’t returned most of it? Himself, for being a moody, lovesick bitch who got bent out of shape because he felt excluded? Excluded from what?
He didn’t have any answers, but at least the run and a long shower calmed him down before Evan got home.
At least until his husband said that he, along with the rest of the 118, were the main suspects in a bank robbery.
****
“Run it by me one more time,” Tommy said.
Evan did. The guard for the armored car and the bank manager both having seizures at the same. Their symptoms making Eddie suspect a nerve agent. The automatic timer on the vault being triggered, Hen succumbing to whatever it was just before getting locked in while trying to evacuate the manager. Bobby calling Athena’s ex husband for the building plans to break into the vault. A cadre of police officers showing up when the crew returned to the station, the bag of money hidden in the engine.
“Right,” Tommy said, resisting the urge to have Evan tell it to him a third time.
“The cops want us all to come into the station tomorrow,” Evan said, “Answer a few questions.”
“You aren’t doing that without a lawyer,” Tommy said bluntly.
Evan blinked at him, “I…I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong, there’s a misunderstanding—”
“Evan,” Tommy said. He didn’t yell, but it was a near thing. Evan sat up straighter and blinked again, blue eyes big and uncertain. Tommy took in a slow breath. Keep a lid on it, Kinard. “Someone used the 118 to rob a bank. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. At least. They staged a nerve gas attack. And, to top everything else, the police were practically waiting for you when you got back! None of this makes sense, and you are not talking to them without a lawyer.”
“Okay, but,” Evan fidgeted, “I said I’d come in first thing tomorrow morning. Where do I get a lawyer in…” he checked his watch, “Ten hours?”
Tommy thought of all those old poorly-dubbed kaiju movies he used to watch on the cable when he was a kid. The ones where Mothra or Ghidorah were the ones destroying Tokyo and the scientists decided summoning Godzilla himself was the better option.
“I know a guy,” Tommy gritted out.
“You know a guy,” Evan echoed, a line forming between his brow, “How…I mean, like…like how you know Malcolm?”
Tommy didn’t know who the hell Evan was talking about at first, then it clicked. The guy who had incited Evan’s ladder truck theft. Evan was asking if…Tommy laughed without a trace of humor, “No. No, not like that at all.”
***************************************
Buck didn’t know what it said about marriage (or his life in general) that he was more anxious over finally meeting one of his in-laws than of being suspected of a felony.
“Are you sure it’s necessary?” Buck asked as he picked at his breakfast. Tommy’s uncle Vince said he would pick them up and drive them to the station himself, so they had time to go over everything.
“Vince is already on his way,” Tommy said flatly, “And yes.”
“Oh. Okay,” Buck said. He pushed a few pieces of eggs across his plate, “Are you mad at me?”
Tommy took entirely too long before he answered, “Did you conspire with the rest of the 118 to rob a bank?”
“What? No, of course not,” Buck said.
“Were you aware of any plans to rob a bank then kept them to yourself?”
“Same, uh, same answer,” Buck replied.
“Then I’m not mad at you. Why would I be?” His tone was dryer than the stretch of the Mojave where they first met.
Buck dropped his eyes back to his eggs. Have you been mad at me, Buck did not ask. He didn’t quite dare. He usually liked it when Tommy was a bitch, but right now it made him feel the same way it did when he had a growth spurt shortly before he turned thirteen. Suddenly he had more arm and leg than he knew what to do with, towering over all his friends, and people kept mistaking him for an older teenager. Which was nowhere near as fun as it sounded, and perversely made him feel even more like a stupid kid.
Buck thought of what Maddie said to him, on that horrible day last month before everything went to hell. How she couldn’t read Tommy at all, how he ran and hid from her. It would be stupid for Buck to feel that way. Things were going back to normal, or as normal as they could be after everything had happened. It was a little strange, adjusting to having the house back to themselves, just the two of them without navigating around Maddie’s presence. They worked, came home, ate breakfast or dinner together, fucked, went hiking or to the gym.
Buck just couldn’t stop feeling like even though Tommy was present that a wall had gone up between him.
I love you, Buck thought wretchedly, tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it. Please tell me I can fix it.
Buck took another bite of his eggs. Tommy always made a good breakfast spread, nothing fancy but tasty and filling. This morning everything tasted like rubber and ash.
****
“Wow, this place looks good,” said Tommy’s uncle Vince as he took in the house, “You guys hire someone?”
“We did it ourselves,” Buck said, not bothering to hide the the pride in his voice.
“Evan more than me,” Tommy added. He had said very little since showing his uncle in and making introductions.
Vince whistled, “If the firefighting thing doesn’t work out let me introduce you to some people. Place looks better than it did even before the old man went screwy.”
“Really?” Buck said.
“Yes. My mother, god rest,” Vince made a half-hearted sign of the cross, “wasn’t always the most tasteful woman. But she still made sure he kept on top of repairs, at least. When she passed he kinda stopped caring. Milo and the boys tried to help him keep on top of things, but…” He shrugged.
“Milo?” Buck asked.
Vince shot Tommy a look, then explained, “Tommy’s other uncle.”
“How many uncles are there?” Buck asked, unable to contain his curiosity despite everything else on his mind.
“Just me and Milo,” Vince said, “Rosie—Tommy’s mom—was my big sister.”
Buck tried to think of a delicate way to ask just how much older than Vince Tommy’s mom was. When Tommy introduced them Buck almost asked if he’d misunderstood, and this was a cousin and not an uncle. Vince looked like he was in his forties rather than his fifties—the hair swept back in a stylish pompadour was still black, and if it was a dye job Buck couldn’t tell. Plus his tailored suit did little to hide how jacked he was. The insane physique and the cheekbones were the only hint of family resemblance between him and Tommy.
“What about—” Buck started to ask, but he was interrupted by Tommy saying they should probably head toward the station.
“I’m fine with letting the cops sweat, but we should probably get this over with,” Vince agreed.
****
Tommy’s uncle Vince was kind of an asshole.
“Do not,” Vince said as he navigated his cloud gray Lexus through morning LA traffic, “Answer any of their questions. They ask a question, you wait for me to respond first. Then, if I decide it’s a legit question, keep your answer as close to ‘yes’ or ‘no’ as you can. Got it?”
“What if they ask me my name?” Buck replied petulantly.
“These rules apply if you ask you your name, date birth, whether you want a glass of water or to take a leak or about the weather or fucking anything,” Vince shot back, “Never, and I mean never, tell the cops anything.”
“Even if you’re innocent?” Buck asked.
“‘Even if you’re innocent’. Jesus Christ Tommy, where did you find this kid?”
“Vegas,” Tommy said. He was riding in the backseat while Buck took shotgun. He had said very little on the entire drive, and when Buck glanced in the rearview mirror he was staring fixedly out the window.
Vince snorted, “Well, that’s the least surprising thing I’ve learned today. Yes, kid. Even if you’re innocent. Especially if you’re innocent.”
“I know a lot of cops,” Buck argued, “I work with a lot of cops—”
“So what? You’re not a cop yourself. Cops see the world as ‘us versus them’. As a firefighter you were conditionally part of the ‘us’. You’re not anymore. You’re just one of the savage criminal masses. Even if you didn’t do this you’re probably guilty of something, so why should they care if you’re collateral damage?”
“Evan,” Tommy said in that same dry, flat tone he’d been using all morning, “Just listen to him.”
“Good boy, Tommy,” Vince said, then chuckled, “I need to call your Uncle Milo and let him know that it took thirty years, but I finally had to bail you out of something. If only by proxy. He’ll never believe me.”
Buck glanced in the rearview mirror. Tommy was still staring out the window, but a smile flickered briefly on his lips, “I was just better than Mike and Larry at not getting caught.”
“Who are Mike and Larry?” Buck asked.
“My cousins,” Tommy’s smile was gone.
“Are these the ones that,” Buck started to say, then clapped his mouth shut with a sideways glance at Vince.
“Don’t be shy on my account,” Vince laughed, “I don’t know everything those two got into, but enough. I was the one my big brother called to get them out. Though a bank robbery is a new one.”
****
Mercer and Wash, the detectives investigating the bank robbery, were surprised and displeased when they saw Buck wasn’t alone.
“Tom Kinard,” Tommy introduced himself, and Buck marveled at how he managed to make his own name sound like “get fucked.”
“The husband,” Detective Wash said, “Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
“Yes he does,” Vince said, giving the detectives a razor sharp shark’s smile, “Vincent Pietragallo. Mr Buckley and ‘the husband’s’ lawyer.”
Buck’s conversation with the police didn’t last very long. Vince hadn’t been exaggerating when he said Buck wasn’t to answer any questions without him okaying them first. Every time Buck forgot himself Vince’s fingers clamped down on his shoulder and gave him a look. It took only about five minutes for Buck to realize a third thing Vince had in common with his nephew. Insane physique, killer cheekbones, and bitchy eyebrows. They were definitely family.
It made Buck itch, made him want to mouth off. Until he remembered how understanding Tommy had been about the gun, understanding because he didn’t expect better from the kid he married. And Buck wanted to be better. Wanted to be a husband who was mature, who Tommy could trust not to do stupid things. So he clamped down on urge to run his mouth and kept his answers short. By the end of interview Vince was looked almost approving.
“Your boy did great,” Vince announced on the ride back to the house.
“Really?” Buck couldn’t stop himself from preening. He wilted a little when Tommy simply asked Vince what the next step was.
“Wait and see,” Vince replied, “The cops don’t really have anything on your except the money.”
“Oh, well, if it’s just the stolen cash then I guess Evan has nothing to worry about,” Tommy said.
“Literally anyone could have put that money on the truck. Nothing about this makes sense. I’ll look into some things. You two sit tight.”
****
Whoever was framing them decided to do it the day before Buck’s four off. Not just any four off, but one that overlapped with Tommy’s schedule. They had a whole three days off together, the last time that had happened Buck was still staying half the time at Maddie’s new place. He had been looking forward to a few days reconnecting with his husband.
A morning at the police station hadn’t been in his plans. Neither had meeting any of his in-laws for the first time. At least everything was wrapped up by lunch time. Vince dropped them off at the house without stopping in—“Already cancelled as many meetings as I could. I’ll call you.”
Tommy watched his uncle drive away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Finally he took in a deep breath and walked into the house, making a beeline for the bedroom, already pulling off his shirt.
“Tommy?” Buck asked, distracted by the muscles in Tommy’s back as he reached as he unbuckled his belt.
Tommy just looked archly at Buck over his shoulder and said, “Why are your clothes still on?”
Buck ignored the little voice in his head that said they probably should talk about some things first and followed Tommy to the bedroom.
Buck continued ignoring that voice the following day, and most of the one after. He and Tommy didn’t do much talking, and Buck tried not to think of what Bobby had said to him on Valentine’s Day last year. It’s not uncommon for guys to use sex as a way of avoiding real intimacy.
Maybe if it wasn’t so good. Sex between them was always so good. Buck knew exactly what Tommy wanted and needed from him when they were in sweat slick and pressed skin to skin. The one place left where Buck’s doubts went silent.
It wasn’t until the third night that Buck stopped being able to ignore that little voice. They were doing the washing up after dinner, Tommy was leaning over the sink with his sleeves rolled up, the warm kitchen light outlining the perfect bone structure of his face. Buck studied his husband’s cheekbones and felt a flutter of something almost like panic.
“So,” Buck said uncertainly, “Your uncle is…interesting.”
Tommy paused scrubbing the dishes long enough to blink at Buck, “You can just call him an asshole. Is the dishwasher clean or dirty?”
“Clean,” Buck said. He started to unload it as Tommy washed the bigger pots and pans in the sink, “And yeah, I mean, Vince is kind of an asshole. But he’s…I don’t know.”
Tommy made a non-committal grumble. Buck had put away most of their drinking glasses before he realized Tommy wasn’t going to give him anything. He felt that flash of anxiety and wrong-footedness that kept catching him off guard. Tommy was up to his elbows in dish soap plus he had a shift in the morning, Buck couldn’t just avoid conversation by sucking his dick. Well, he could, but…
But he didn’t want to be a guy who never asked any questions. “Why don’t you……why did it take so long to for me to meet him?”
The clatter of dishes paused, “Did you tell Phillip and Marge about me?”
“What?” Buck asked.
“Your parents,” Tommy said, “You said you called them to let them know about Maddie. Where are they, by the way?”
“Um, Hershey, s-still,” Buck said, caught off guard by the change in subject. He felt even more wrong-footed, “And no, no I didn’t, tell them about you,” they hadn’t asked about Buck’s life at all, “But if you want I can.”
“I don’t care either way,” Tommy said shortly, “They’e not really a part of your life. I respect that.”
“Because they don’t want to be,” Buck said, stung, “Vince, he seemed, I mean, he seems to care, he dropped everything to help us—”
“Because he owes me,” Tommy said, “Once this whole thing with the bank is cleared up further interaction is unnecessary.”
“I just—” Buck fumbled. He should stop talking, he knew he should stop talking, Tommy wasn’t yelling but Buck could tell he was pissed. “I’m sorry,” he said, instead of, I just want to know you. Please don’t be mad at me.
Tommy sighed, “Look, Evan. It’s complicated. And seeing him…just brings up some bad memories, okay? It’s not worth it.”
“Okay,” Buck said. He didn’t understand, and he didn’t know how to get Tommy to explain it to him. Maybe if Buck wasn’t a stupid kid—
They were interrupted by the muted buzz of Tommy’s phone from where he’d sat it by the sink. Tommy glanced down and scowled when he saw the number, “Speak of the fucking devil. Get that, will you? Put it on speaker.”
“So I just had a very interesting call from Ms Echolls. She’s the PI the firm uses gather info for our high profile cases, and she’s good. Beflattered she’s working on yours. Anyway, she was at the bank to talk to some witnesses, and she ran into some friends of yours.”
“Oh?” Buck said.
“A Mrs Henrietta Wilson and a Sergeant Athena Grant,” Vince continued, “The latter of which is, according to Echolls, very unhappy with you for ‘lawyering up’, by the way. Maybe she’ll change her mind about the LAPD when she’s visiting her best friend and fiancee in prison. Not my problem.”
“Why would, I thought you said the cops didn’t have anything—”
“That was the day before yesterday, this is today. Keep up.”
“What were Hen and Athena doing at the bank?” Tommy asked sharply.
“Ms Wilson was there on the hope returning to the scene would jog her memory of what transpired before she lost consciousness. It worked. Do you want the good news, or the bad news? Why am I giving you a choice, bad news first: Your crew is looking at possible murder charges on top of grand larceny.”
“What,” Tommy said.
“Murder? Who died?” Buck asked, voice cracking on the last word. A memory of a body covered in a white sheet flashed across his mind.
“The bank manager.”
Buck listened, dumbfounded, as Vince explained. Revisiting the vault had jogged Hen’s memory, she remembered the manager putting his hands on her face. She and Athena took a closer look at the vault and found an empty bottle of hand sanitizer the cops missed. They contacted detectives Mercer and Wash to collect it, Hen now convinced the manager was behind everything. Faking a seizure and calling 911 as a distraction, drugging the paramedic who got trapped in the vault with him.
“Wait, that’s good news, right?” Buck asked, “It proves we didn’t do it—”
“You said you found him in Vegas, Tommy? Not Mayberry, or Mr Rogers’ Neighborhood—”
“What did the cops say when Hen told them what she thought happened?” Tommy said, an audible bite in his voice.
“Well, first the assistant bank manager, decided that two days after the fire department drilled into the vault and hundreds of thousands of dollars were stolen was a good time to check said vault. Shortly after she realized six million in diamonds had been stolen.”
“Six million?” Buck sputtered, then, “Dollars?”
“What about the bank manager?” Tommy said.
“Well, obviously Mercer and Wash wanted to talk to him. Your friends Sergeant Grant and Wilson tagged along, and Echolls followed them. Must have been a parade. Anyway, the bank manager was already dead when they got there, diamonds nowhere to be found.”
“Wait, I’m confused,” Buck said.
“My dear, sweet nephew-in-law, you are far from the only one,” Vince said.
“You said the 118 is looking at murder charges,” Tommy said, “Do you mean for the bank manager? The one they were ignoring until Hen pointed him out?”
“The very same. They’re probably going to get a search warrant for your place. Don’t take it personally; they’re probably going to hit your whole crew.”
“The police just searched our house,” Tommy bit out.
“I am aware of that fact,” Vince said, and his tone made Tommy flinch and glare at the phone, “Anyways: cops are lazy, and they already have suspects and don’t want to look for more of them. Even though a ten second review of the facts make it so obvious you were all just a distraction. But they want it to be a crew of heroic firefighters so bad. They’re already jerking themselves off over the interviews they’ll give on 60 Minutes.”
“But we didn’t do it,” Evan protested, “We were just doing our jobs. Whoever really did it is still out there.” He needed to call Maddie, make sure she was safe, maybe she would be willing to come back for a few days—
“What’s the good news?” Tommy said.
“Oh, the good news is that your husband will never see the inside of the prison cell despite the LAPD’s incompetence because I’m his lawyer.”
“Right,” Tommy said, face going utterly still except for a vein that pulsed across his forehead.
“Although despite my considerable skills,” Vince continued smoothly, “I can’t stop them from searching your place. They’ll probably do it in the morning. Early, they’ll want to catch you off guard. I’ll be there bright and early, if they beat me then stay calm.”
“Calm,” Tommy echoed. Buck was hit with the memory of how Tommy looked after one of the catfished women threw a drink in his face.
“Read the warrant and get a copy if they have one,” Vince continued, “Don’t try to stop them, but keep an eye and take notes. If they so much as look at something not on the warrant then document it. If they ask to search for anywhere not listed on the warrant tell them, politely, to go fuck themselves. And most important of all: Do not answer a single fucking question.”
************************************
Halfway through the search and Tommy knew his normal neighborhood run wasn’t going to cut it this time. He’d have to drive out of the city to the mountains. Maybe try to finally tackle the Bridge to Nowhere trail.
Two of the cops going through their bedroom hit the sex drawer as soon as Tommy had that thought. He watched with the tips of his ears burning as they sifted through their sizable lube collection. Evan was a lube connoisseur, he loved trying new kinds. Tried and true Astroglide alongside Boy Butter: Churn Style, Pjur Backdoor, Fist it! Anal relaxer, Uberlube, silicone and oil based, flavored, every type you could think of. The cops exchanged a look, their expressions deliberately professional.
Hopefully I’ll run into a mountain lion or something on the trail, Tommy thought as he felt his pulse pounding in his temples. Have to fight it off. That would be good.
He could hear Vince talking to Evan in the guest room, saying he thought the probable cause used to obtain the warrant seemed pretty flimsy, and they had a good case for suing the LAPD after this was over.
Not if either us want to keep working as first responders, Tommy thought bitterly. The cops moved briskly to the closet, nosing around in the gun safe that had been empty since the last time their house had been tossed.
Battling a mountain lion wouldn’t cut it. Maybe he should head back to fucking Boise and find somewhere with grizzly bears. Or try surfing instead of running, take on one of the great whites that Evan insisted were just animals and almost never ate people, and then only as a mistake, geez Tommy.
“What happened here?” one of the cops asked, gesturing to a patch of discolored wall where Maddie’s one shot at Doug Kendall had left a small hole. Tommy had slapped on some drywall putty immediately after he finished scouring Howie’s blood off the living room floor, but he hadn’t gotten around to repainting.
“Please refer all your questions to my attorney,” Tommy said flatly.
“Was this when that guy broke into your house last month?” the officer continued, running his thumb over the patch job.
Tommy deliberately took out his phone and went to the used car section of Craigslist.
“Heard someone died,” the officer said in response to Tommy’s silence, “Were you guys liable for that? Lawyers, am I right? They don’t come cheap. Especially that guy.”
Tommy snorted. The cop had no idea. He almost hoped Vince had the gall to send a bill for this; Tommy would feel justified in fulfilling a twenty year fantasy of decking his uncle in the face. More satisfying than mountain lions, grizzlies, or great whites.
Tommy knew he wasn’t that lucky, and the real price would be steeper than money. Namely have his uncle’s nose in his business. Vince undoubtedly opinions about his life he was waiting to share.
************************************
Tommy still had a shift, so he needed to leave before the cops finished searching their place.
“I’ve got it covered,” Vince said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“So do I,” Buck said, flinching at the clatter from their bathroom as the cops knocked over something in the shower.
Tommy’s eyes flicked between Buck and Vince, his expression utterly blank. “Fine,” Tommy said. He turned to where he normally kept his gym bag, realized the contents were currently scattered over the floor, and Buck saw the moment the shutters closed. Tommy practically did an about face turning to walk out the door.
Buck followed him outside without making a conscious decision, “Hey. I really have got it, okay?” He said to Tommy’s retreating back.
Tommy stood for a moment with his hand on the door of the truck, “It’s fine, Evan.”
“I’ll have it cleaned up by the time you get home,” Buck promised, “House will be as good as new.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy said, still making no move to get in the truck. Buck took a step forward, meaning to kiss him goodbye, but as he did one of the officers walked out carrying a box full of their clothes. Tommy’s face flickered, and he got decisively in his truck and peeled out of the driveway so fast his tires squealed.
****
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Vince muttered when the whirlwind of police presence had finally left.
Buck sighed and got to work, starting with the living room. Vince made no move to help or leave, just slowly drifted through the living room studying the pictures on the walls. When he reached their wedding photo he stared at it for a long time.
“Tom said met you Vegas,” Vince said.
“We actually met in the Mojave desert an hour away from Vegas.”
“An important distinction,” Vince said, turning to study Buck, “You get married on the same trip?”
Buck saw no reason to deny it, “Yes. Um. The next morning.”
“Must have been a hell of a night,” Vince said.
“The next day was better,” Buck said.
“Were the two of you drunk? No, don’t bother answering, of course you were drunk. Why didn’t you get an annulment?”
“We…uh, we never got around to it,” Buck said. He could feel his shoulders want to draw up around his ears.
“Last time I talked to Tommy before a few days ago he was engaged to a nice lady he’d been dating for years.”
“Oh, well. They broke up before we met. He’s um. He’s gay,” Buck said.
“Since I’m talking to his husband I kinda worked that out for myself,” Vince said, “Does his dad know?”
“I don’t think so,” Buck said, “Tommy hasn’t talked to him…in a long time. He…um. He doesn’t talk about any of his family.”
Vince’s laser sharp stare dimmed, and he finally looked away, “Of course he doesn’t. That boy is his mother’s son. Unfortunately.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Just that if you let Rosie down once that was it, she never trusted you again,” Vince said, “There was no making it up to her.”
“Tommy’s not like that,” Buck protested.
“Maybe you just haven’t let him down yet,” Vince said, “Keep up the good work.”
Maybe you just haven’t let him down yet. His heart was beating incredibly fast for an organ that had been efficiently stabbed by a few words.
Vince didn’t even seem aware of the fact that he’d dealt a killing blow. He was studying the print of Kinard Beach that Abby had sent them, still in pride of place on their wall, lost in his own thoughts. “Did Tommy tell you how she died? Rosie, I mean.”
“No, just that it was, uh, sudden,” Buck said.
Vince snorted, “It actually wasn’t, in a way. Started when she married that piece of shit. Rosie killed herself. Got drunk and slashed her writs one afternoon.”
Buck opened his mouth and shut it again. He didn’t ask why, he knew why. Tommy didn’t talk about his parents much, but Buck knew the outline.
Buck thought of Devon, the first person he lost on the job. Remembered how he tried to talk to Tommy about it, how he felt like Devon had just let go. Tommy had shut down, said something about how the first person he lost wasn’t on the job, and it was hard to talk about. Buck hadn’t asked any questions.
Vince gave himself a shake, “Shit, what time is it?”
“It’s, uh,” Buck fumbled for his phone.
“Time for me to head out regardless,” Vince said, “Sorry to dump the family drama on you. Being in this house just makes me think of the past, is all.”
“R-right,” Buck said.
Vince clapped Buck on the shoulder, “Don’t worry about this whole thing. I meant it, you’ll never see the inside of a prison cell. I’ll be in touch.”
************************************
There’s some stuff I’d like to go over with you in person. Drop by my office if you have a minute.
Tommy considered ignoring Vince’s text. The 118 had been cleared of the whole bank robbery. Or at least most of them—turned out one of the mechanical pool had conspired with the bank manager to rob the armored car, then the bank manager got greedy. He took the opportunity to steal the diamonds by swallowing them one after another while Hen was unconscious on the floor of the vault. Afterward sent the cops after the paltry haul from the armored car as distraction. Although the guy had earned it no one had gotten around to murdering him—he’d died from a perforated intestine.
At any rate, Vince’s work was done and there was no reason for Tommy to talk to him at all, much less drive to his office. It was his day off but Evan had a shift, facts that Vince was no doubt well aware of.
But the price had to be paid sooner or later, so he forced himself to drive to the offices of Pietragallo, Pietragallo, and Weisman. It was in one of those ultra modern glass high rises downtown. The whole place seemed vaguely fake, more like a TV set for quirky legal procedural than an actual place of business.
Vince’s office was no exception. He had a glass desk, sleek modern furniture, and tasteful art on the walls. The only splash of personality was one of those digital picture frames on his desk, the kind that cycled through your camera roll. Tommy studied the pictures as waited for Vince to wrap up his phone call. Most were of Vince’s daughter, from a red faced infant in her impossibly beautiful mother’s arms to a kid around Christopher’s age.
“Isn’t she gorgeous? Takes after her mother.”
“She does,” Tommy agreed.
“I’ve got more pictures, some with Mike and Larry’s kids—”
“You can text me photos. Not sure why I had to come to your office.”
“Well, I see you’re determined to be an asshole so I’ll skip ahead. What the fuck, Tommy.”
Tommy rolled his eyes, “Care to be more specific?”
“Well, let me see,” Vince said, getting up from his chair and coming around to sit on the edge of his desk across from Tommy, “For starters: you should have called me months ago. When your sister-in-law was abducted and someone was murdered on your front lawn. With your service revolver. Jesus, Tom.”
“I was out of town when everything happened,” Tommy said, “We were never under any suspicion of wrongdoing.”
“You’re as bad as that kid you married,” Vince interrupted, thumping two fingers against Tommy’s head and ignoring how he jerked back, “’Never under any suspicion’. So what? The cops become involved, you call a lawyer. Fuck, if you didn’t want to deal with me you should have called somebody.”
“I had other things on my mind,” Tommy said, “Getting Maddie back was the most important thing. The cops bent the rules to let Evan help do that.”
“Well, speaking of your husband,” Vincent said, “What in the actual fuck, Tommy.”
“Here it comes,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes again and checking his watch.
“Did you really marry him the day after you met him?”
“Twelve hours or so, yeah,” Tommy said.
“Well, that saves me asking if you bothered with a prenup before snatching the first cradle you ran across,” Vince muttered darkly.
“Really? A bit rich coming from the guy who married his twenty-five year old intern.”
“Pavitra and I met when she was twenty-five. We were together for over three years before we considered a legally binding commitment, partly because of the age difference. And she wrote our prenup herself.”
“Oh, well that’s not cradle snatching at all, then,” Tommy bit out.
“Look, you date someone that much younger—”
“A whole ten year gap instead of twenty—”
“—and it’s a risk, okay? Shit, all marriages are risks. Especially impulsive marriages to twenty-five year old fucking drifters looking for a meal ticket.”
“He was in the fire academy, as I’m sure your little PI dug up, and he currently has his own job and money. He’s not holding out for the vast Kinard fortune.”
“The house, in that neighborhood, with the work you’ve put into it…shit, you might be able to get seven figures for it—”
“Ooooh,” Tommy said, “Seven figures? In LA?
“I’m being serious, Tom.”
“So am I. Trust me, if Evan was a gold digger he could get someone with a lot more gold. I’m pretty sure he’s just using me for sex.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I could have taken care of it in two minutes.”
“Sorry, I thought you weren’t an expert in family law.”
Throughout their argument Vince had been giving him blustery Italian rage, complete with wild hand gestures and pacing. At that comment he went totally still, face freezing as he glared at Tommy for a long moment. He looked away and muttered darkly, “Your mother’s fucking son.”
Tommy felt himself go still, “Says the man who is his father’s son.”
Vince sighed, “I get why you think that, but…Tommy, I do give a shit about you. I wish you’d let me.”
“Is there anything else?” Tommy asked.
“Yes, actually,” Vince said, “Do you know that Robert Nash has been suspended pending an investigation? Apparently he falsified information when he transferred to LA. It came up with the cops were looking into everyone’s background.”
“I’m aware he was suspended,” Tommy said. Chimney was interim captain, and Evan said he was a nightmare. Everyone was hoping Bobby would be back soon.
“If he needs a lawyer I can refer him to Pavitra. She’s not cheap, but she’ll give him a friends and family discount.”
“I think Bobby’s good,” Tommy said, although from what little Evan had said that was probably wishful thinking, “Anything else?”
“The cops still had a few boxes full of evidence from the last time your place was tossed,” Vince said, voice dull and professional now, “Stop by Ally’s desk, she has them for you. The stuff from your most recent go around should take a few more days.”
****
The evidence box had a receipt that listed its contents, but when Tommy looked inside he knew it was inaccurate. It was mostly paperwork, stuff they’d taken out the desk in the bedroom. It looked like whoever processed the scene had just scooped up everything not nailed down. There were a few utility bills spattered with dark blotches of blood, pens, his fucking stapler—
“Fuck yeah,” Tommy said with a grin. There was the small wooden box tucked in the mess. He took it out carefully and cracked it open. The ring was still inside, still shiny and polished and perfect.
He felt something in him unclench at the sight of it. Evan really would love it. Tommy wondered if he should wait for a special occasion to give it to him. Their third anniversary was too far, maybe for Evan’s birthday in June.
He turned the matter over in his mind as he started absently hunting through the scattered paperwork for the certificate of authentication, eyes scanning perfunctory over the mess. He had just resolved to not fuck around and give Evan the ring when he got off shift when his eyes caught on something.
FL-100, Petition-Marriage/Partnership.
Tommy stared at for a full minute while his thoughts shut down one after another, lights out, shutters down, grates sealed.
Petitioner: Evan Buckley. Respondent: Thomas Kinard. Petition for dissolution (divorce) of a legal marriage. Legal grounds: irreconcilable differences.
Okay.
Tommy mechanically stacked the scattered papers—including form FL-100— and returned them to the evidence boxes. After a moment’s pause he carried them to the garage and shoved them beneath his work bench.
Okay.
Tommy returned to the house and stood in the living room. An unwelcome memory came to him of watching the cops paw through their sex drawer, their entire intimate life on display to be pawed through and smirked over. He wondered if the crime scene tech who tossed form FL-100 into the evidence box took time to read it. Wondered if it was the same crime scene tech was the one to sift through the gun safe, to find Evan’s ring and grab that too. Wondered if that tech made the connection, if he exchanged a deliberately professional look with a colleague. All of that happening while Tommy ignorantly shot pool in fucking Boise, smiling and feeling at ease with himself until Bobby Nash—not Evan—called to tell him what had happened.
Tommy briefly wondered if Vince had seen it. But no, the box had been sealed, and he would have thrown that in Tommy’s face during their meeting.
The ring box was still sitting on their dining room table. Tommy picked it up, gripping the box so hard the wood creaked.
“Okay,” Tommy said out loud, forcing himself to relax his hold before he cut himself on the edges.
Part of him wanted to dramatically throw it through the dining room window. But he knew the hurt and anger that drove the impulse was unearned. He remembered his decision to buy it in the first place, thinking Evan deserved a nice ring for as long as Tommy got to have him, whether that was a week or a year.
Tommy had known this had an expiration date. It was his own fault for forgetting that. He thought of how quiet and withdrawn Evan had been since Maddie’s abduction (since he filled out and printed form FL-100). Hesitant and guilty, Tommy stupidly chalking everything up to what had happened.
I guess there was more to it than that, Tommy thought. Maybe Tommy had sensed it, maybe that was why he had been so prone to bouts of anger, like a spoiled child ignoring his mother’s shouts that playtime was over and it was time to come inside.
An equally childish thought tried to be heard, It’s been weeks, maybe he’s changed his mind, maybe he— Tommy choked it off ruthlessly. When would Evan had the time to bring this up, in between staying at his sister’s new apartment and being accused of a felony? That was the whole story of their marriage’s longevity, after all, being too busy to file the paperwork.
“Okay, okay,” Tommy said again. To his horror he could hear tears in his own voice. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep breaths.
He rubbed his thumb under his eyes and sniffed. Shook himself. He had a shift in the morning. He’d decide what to do about this later. He looked around the living room bleakly. They’d have to sell the house, Tommy didn’t think Evan would want to live in a place his sister could never visit. The idea of Tommy staying in a place where everything from the floorboards to the drywall were marked with memories of Evan was laughable.
What, exactly, did this really change? This was the inevitable conclusion of that one insane night in Vegas. After all, Tommy began that night with the intention of losing. It had just taken him a few years.