Chapter Text
The building was screaming. Wood, metal, the low roar of heat chewing through oxygen. Eddie’s radio crackled in his ear, but all he could hear was Buck’s shout — “Eddie, move!” — and then the floor simply wasn’t there anymore.
“Buck!”
The word tore out of him, raw. He hit his knees at the jagged edge where concrete and steel peeled back like paper. Through the smoke, a single gloved hand caught the beam below, fingers slipping in soot and blood. Eddie’s stomach lurched.
“I got you—hang on, I got you.”
He didn’t even think. Just lay flat, chest scraping against the burning floor, reaching down until their hands locked. The heat seared through his turnout, sweat running into his eyes. Buck’s grip was slick but strong, his arm trembling under the strain.
“You’re not going anywhere, Buckley,” Eddie gritted out, voice shaking in a way the radio would never catch. “You hear me?”
Buck tried to laugh — that stupid, breathless laugh he always had when things went wrong — and coughed instead, a wet, rasping sound that made Eddie’s pulse spike.
Somewhere below, something exploded. The beam bucked; Buck’s weight yanked hard, nearly pulled Eddie over the edge. He braced, muscles screaming, fingers white around Buck’s wrist.
“Eddie—”
“Don’t.” It came out a whisper, a plea. “Don’t you dare.”
He could feel the pulse under his thumb — rapid, terrified, alive. He focused on that and nothing else.
The heat pressed in like a living thing. Every breath scraped fire down Eddie’s throat, every heartbeat a countdown. Buck dangled below, one arm hooked over a twisted beam, the other hand locked in Eddie’s grip.
“I got you,” Eddie rasped, shifting his weight, boots sliding on scorched flooring that crumbled a little more with every inch. “Just—hold on—”
Buck’s eyes were wide behind the soot and sweat, and even through the chaos, Eddie could see him—really see him—the curve of a smile that wasn’t bravado anymore, just trust.
A thundercrack split the air. Somewhere deeper in the building, something gave. The jolt tore through the floor; Buck’s body lurched, his glove slick against Eddie’s palm.
“Eddie!”
The rest of it shattered with the floor. Their hands slid, skin against skin, a heartbeat’s worth of contact before Buck’s weight wrenched free. Eddie felt the loss like a muscle tearing.
He dove forward, catching only smoke. Below, a flash of movement—then nothing but black and orange and the deafening roar of fire swallowing the space where Buck had been.
“Come on, Buckley,” he whispered, the words dissolving in the smoke. “You don’t get to leave me like that. Not again.”
“BUCK!”
His voice disappeared into the smoke, swallowed by the roar of collapsing walls. He leaned over the jagged edge, vision stinging from heat and tears, searching for any trace of movement below. Nothing—only the blaze, devouring everything in orange and black.
“Diaz! Get out of there!” Chim’s voice barked through the radio, sharp with panic.
Eddie barely heard it. His chest heaved. His hands shook. Then his fingers brushed something—rough fabric, half-burned leather. Buck’s glove, torn loose in the fall.
He gripped it like it was still attached to him. Like if he just held tight enough, he could drag Buck back from wherever he’d gone.
“Come on, partner,” he whispered hoarsely, pressing the glove to his forehead. “Hold on. Please.”
The building groaned, shifting under his weight, and still Eddie didn’t move. He stayed there, one hand fisted around that glove, until the world around him blurred to sirens and smoke.