— NATHAN'S POV, train wreck

Monday rolled around and Robin had argued until her hands were waving that she hadn't wanted to go to school. She wanted to stay home and stay with Maddie, who in the space of two days, had seemingly replaced Buck for her Auntie when it came to her favourite person. But Nathan had refused the extra day off for playtime, as expected by his older and younger siblings who had watched from the corner of their eyes, as the Father chased after his stubborn daughter.

He hadn't missed the way Buck had been holding in his laughter.

The only thing Robin had eventually taking to settling for was Maddie dropping her off for school instead. So, Buck had taken both Maddie and Robin whilst Nathan mockingly saluted his younger brother for the offer, before getting into his own vehicle. Buck didn't start shift for another two hours whereas Nathan only had enough time to drop Robin off on the way to the police station. So it made sense, regardless of the traffic that Buck hadn't thought about.

Because Buck was certainly going to be late to work.

And there was something in the air the moment he walked into his rounding the desk with a slowing step.

Grabbing his holster, Nathan glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his sight toward the Sergeant's office. He was raving at somebody sat down, one of his hands gesturing wildly around in the air, disappointment imprinted in his expression.

Never had Nathan seen the man like that. He was always composed, whether settled or let down. He had a sternness to him that was impressive to Nathan, perhaps even a little frightening in unsettling situations but always more than beneficial to the team that needed that strength.

"What's going on in there?" He leaned his hands down flat against the table as his gaze shot towards Detective Tara Nolan, the newest member of the intelligence Unit. Her shrug was the only answer he received from her, but thankfully Keller liked to share anything he knew with Buckley. He was a little gossip that never missed the chance in revealing information around. "Did I miss something?"

"Reckon Sarge is getting replaced," Keller twirled the pen between his fingers, nodding toward the office door. He was older than Nathan yet in that moment, it appeared like a kid in his favourite toy store, overjoyed. His chair squeaked as he leaned forward. "Something about misconduct."

"Miscon —" But the office door was pulled open before he could finish his startled questioning, and Nathan dropped himself backwards to slot into his seat, something Tara amusingly shook her head at, as their Sergeant glanced around at them. His guest — somebody Nathan did not recognise — was quick to leave, departing the closed department of the station.

The door shut again and Nathan rose a brow, looking to Keller who pulled a face at him.

That didn't look good.

The man did near enough everything by the book. A little too much at times with his utter lack of empathy. So, Nathan leaned forward, roaming through the case that they were pulling up on, and tried to think of what had happened. He'd not been in over the weekend, so something could of happened but surely he'd of been notified if something had struck wrong on duty within the Unit? They'd of called him in with the short staff they had.

Another buzz of his phone shook the table.

Another earthquake warning.

"You guys getting these as well?"

Keller waved his phone in the air. "As expected." He didn't sound bothered.

Robin's school was well-equipped to deal with earthquakes, it was a good school. One of the reasons that Nathan and Danielle had chosen that school for her, with his overprotective nature and understanding of how systems worked. But Robin didn't like earthquakes, or thunder, so he worried for her in that regard. Perhaps he could give the school a ring and ask to speak with his daughter, and warn her that the weather might take a strong hitting turn so it didn't come unexpected to the little girl.

The office door opened again, their Sergeant waving a file in his grasp. "I've just received a call about our primary suspect and his run-ins. Source is good, but I'm going to need Buckley and Keller double checking it's location. Last known for our guy." He moved closer, dropping the folder on Nathan's desk, "Check it out, will you? And don't let Keller do all the talking. I've got enough on my plate as it is." The last warning would never be short-lived and Keller groaned, head falling back as he overheard.

"Sarge —"

"Nobody benefits from all your talking," Keller was interrupted, "I got a meeting. Write up and report back when you've got something good for me to hand in."

Nathan didn't get the chance to even speak and that's how he knew something was not right. He had a decent relationship with the Lincoln Doss and it was usually, especially prior to check-out's, a two-way brief. That wasn't what was happening today. But Nathan couldn't exactly question the change of behaviour, especially in front of Tara, who seemed a little on edge with the sharpness of Doss's orders.

Grabbing the file and his jacket that he'd swung around the back of his chair, Nathan nodded to the door. "He's not usually like that," He told Tara, ignoring Keller's snort. "Shut up, man. You know he's not always like that."

Leaving behind the rest of their team in the department, Nathan hurries to equip himself up on any necessaries before re-joining Keller in the police lot. He wasn't sure how Keller always did it so hastily, and he was sure that Keller stashed most of it in his desk drawer instead of checking it back in.

"Who do you think will replace him?"

"You actually want Doss to leave?" Nathan shook his head, opening the driver's door and sliding in, tossing the file on Keller's lap who takes his turn to read through it. He didn't understand why Keller seemed so hyperactive over the idea or perhaps it was just the drama of the possibility. Doss hadn't ever been seen to do anything wrong in Nathan's vision and Nathan was stern. "The last thing Intelligence needs is another change of command. Here —" He pointed to the file, "Just focus."

"I mean —"

"We're not talking about this, Keller."

Keller sinks back into his seat, tutting to himself at Nathan's tone. Ever the parent he was. He checked over the radio next, before glancing out the window. Passenger Princess, as Nathan had once teasingly called him. He never drove in their partnership. But in fairness, it was because Keller liked to talk the most and Nathan didn't mind being the one always behind the wheel, so the permanency in their duo just stuck with each shift they drove out together. Recently, that hadn't been often.

"Who's the source for this guy anyway?" Keller wondered next.

Nathan hummed, no name coming up in mind. "Not one of my guys," He meant one out on the streets, seeing the inner side of the dealings. "Guessing it's someone Doss knows otherwise somebody would of mentioned their guy's involvement first to us."

"Great," Keller muttered.

Driving past the church, both the detectives leaned forward as they glanced around the neighbourhood. The community's lack of funding was evident with it's broken glass windows and lack of street smart. It was one Nathan had been to a few times before — when he'd been undercover himself, it had been a popular spot. He remembered the lay-out of the block well. "Which one is it again?" He referred to the number on the door.

Keller looked down before pointing to the second door on the far right, "That one."

Making sure to park a little further down from the house, the duo shared a glance before the pair both got out of their sides of the car. Doss's lack of confidence in the source was enough for him to want to check it out, so Nathan partly regretted not tugging a vest on underneath his jacket like Keller had done.

Peering down the alleyway between the homes, Nathan pushed open the unclosed gate and stepped up the ground-square path, knowing Keller had his cover from behind. He couldn't see anybody through what the first-floor window allowed him to see into and the windows up top were blocked with curtains, so stepping up the painted red porch steps had to be slow and cautious.

"Right," Nathan threw in a shouted-whisper over his shoulder, instructing Keller where to position himself, turning his body to the left and pressing his shoulder against the brick. His eyes scanned the door, the glass too filthy to see through, before raising his hand and knocking twice, the sound loud and clear.

Whatever he had been expecting wasn't an actual answer, but the door opened anyway and a child stood there.

Instinctively, Keller took a step back and Nathan forced a smile, not quite sure whether this was the correct address.

She peered up at him, dark eyes a little afraid at seeing two men stood at her door. "Hello," She greeted slowly, no older than ten, with fingers that clutched the door handle tightly.

"Good morning," Nathan gave his fatherly smile, one he'd shoot down at Robin at the breakfast table, and didn't let his eyes wander over her head, knowing it would only make her nervous. Why were all their drug-cases involving children recently? "Why aren't you at school?"

The mention of school had the girl shrugging, looking over to Keller, who cracked some half-awkward smile before he turned away, not wishing to deal with the matter at hand. Not that Nathan really blamed him — they weren't here to check out whether the suspect had a family, but whether he was dealing on the grounds as the source had informed them. It would grant an arrest. But this? Was she somebody of relation?

"I don't like school," She excused. Nathan almost felt like protesting the answer because every child deserved an education, but that wasn't why he was there. That issue was none of his business. "Are you looking for my Uncle Jax?"

Keller turned back around, throwing a look to his partner, before answering first, "Yeah kid, we are. He around here?"

"No," She answered quickly, but the way her grip tightened on the handle gave a different answer. A habit that betrayed one's anxiety. "Are you cops or something?"

Nathan straightened his back, clocking onto her white lie and the immediate mention of police involvement. This wasn't her first time she'd answered the door to the law searching for her Uncle. "We're friends of his," He instead said, wondering whether Jax was somewhere on the first floor, listening in. "We're just. . . we're looking for something. We were told he lives here."

A flash of uncertainty creased her eyebrows, unsure on the truth of the words. "He's not home right now," She tells them again, and this time, Nathan believes her. Which meant that Jax was somewhere in the neighbourhood. It seems that Keller clicked onto the kid's mistake in wording as well, a small nod being noticed from the corner of Nathan's eye, before the girl continues speaking, "My other Uncle is home."

The suspect had a brother? Nathan didn't recall that on Jax's file. Only a sister had been recorded down.

"Oh," Nathan glanced over his shoulder, watching Keller stroll down the garden path and out the gate to the public street. He was being invited into the home, where he could check it's location and perhaps scout out this other Uncle. A little against protocol, he thought, but he figured he might not get another chance. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

So that's what she did, leaving Nathan to close the door when he stepped through the doorway and glanced around. There's a skip to her step, rushing toward the bend of the hallway and through another doorway that was open without a door to ever close it. And sitting on one of the leather-looking couches, sat a dark-haired man who tensed at the sight of what his niece had brought into the household.

"Lucy," The man, the other Uncle, hissed through teeth with a tense tight smile so he didn't worry his niece. "Who is this?"

"This is one of Uncle Jax's friends," The child, Lucy, answered causally as she grabbed the doll from the coffee table and glanced back at Nathan, eyes wide and somewhat unsure for a second, before that faded away as she continued on, "He's wanting to buy one of Uncle Jax's sickness tablets."

Gotcha.

Sickness tablets? The idea of cover upon their niece's innocence was smart, but not involving their family into drug matters would of been smarter altogether. And from the way that the man's expression screamed paranoia, skimming his stare up and down the detective, Nathan wondered how much worth this life could really hold. Their drug selling involved murder and they had family members that opened up doors.

"Go upstairs," The girl does as she's told, not without looking back once, and the man stands up slowly. Nathan knows that Keller is going round back, and there's another outside door in the right corner of the room he's standing in, where he can see the corner of a kitchen counter. The standards of cleanliness wasn't fit for a kid. "Jax didn't say he had customers this morning." 

"He didn't?" Nathan played along, a small crease in his brow line. "Weird. He said he'd set me up."

That seemed to surprise the man, who paused in his suspicion and lifted a hand to scratch his fingers against the stubble on his chin. "I don't have anything," He eventually reveals, tone a little low and voice hesitant, "And he won't be back for a few days. I don't get why he's sending people here when we're hooked up on east street," The last part was meant for himself rather than Nathan, annoyance burning in his eyes.

The cogs in Nathan's head could be seen turning if you knew him well enough. This wasn't the first time Jax had sent people to the family home unknowingly to his brother.

"Sorry, man, I. . ."

But the guy didn't care for apologises, "My brother's the little fuck here," He glanced around, moving forward to bend his knees and reach out for a box beneath the brown high table, flipping the metal lock and opening up the lid. There was nothing in there from what Nathan could see from where he stood still. "I'm out. All out. Here, listen, go to east street, across the road from the park. That's where my brother should be sending people." 

Nathan nodded, watching the way the suspect's brother turns back to him again. "Alright, yeah, cool. Thanks."

"Yeah," The guy just stares at him again. "Tell them Rome sent you."

"Yeah, cool — I will."

Rome, as he called himself, stepped forward when Nathan went to leave the room with intentions of leaving the household. There's no suspicion on his expression now, just some interest. "Is the hook up for you?" He wondered, tone a little less rough, "You don't look like someone chasing after the high."

That was a compliment, Nathan thought. He didn't look like he was on drugs. So, he shook his head and lied, "No, not for me. My brother's desperate," He thought of Buck, and the idea of Buck taking any drugs whatsoever, and almost laughed at the ridiculous thought. He wasn't sure who was least likely between the two brothers to try a sample of something illegal. "And he can't come himself. I'm pretty. . . new to this." 

He had nothing here. No Jax, no drugs. The only thing they'd be doing is waving goodbye to their suspect if Rome got it back to Jax that he was being watched by the Intelligence Unit.

As carefully as he could, one hand went round his back and he switched off his radio, slightly concerned upon the possibility of Rome trying to communicate with him. The last thing he needed was starting something that didn't need to happen — especially when Nathan saw a way in here. Because Rome was interested in the new face, and he was apart of the drug running.

"The things we do for our brothers, huh?" Rome let out some sort of laugh, a tone of disbelief layered in there. He sounded as if he was sharing a secret with somebody who understood what it was like. But Nathan wasn't really on the same page there when it came to their siblings evidently. "You know your way out?"

There was something bordering defeat in Rome's face that had Nathan's attention, but the question lingered on the expectation that he wanted for Nathan to leave now. So Nathan certainly wasn't going to push something he had already risked by entering. "Yeah," He took a step back, feeling the curve of the living room doorway brush his jacket against him, "Thanks." 

But then something happens.

There had been warnings all morning about this, something Nathan had been meaning to call the school up so he could pre-warn his little girl but yet had the chance to do so. He would not get the chance to do so. Earthquake warnings weren't unusual in Los Angeles.

The first shake almost knocked him off his feet and the second one certainly did, his body falling backwards and slamming against the wall that broke underneath his weight — the damn thin, useless wall it was. Nathan could hear both the angry ground demanding it's presence be felt and the sounds of a little girl screaming before he saw her. Just like him, she lost her balance, curling her arms over her head as she fell to the ground.

"Lucy!" The urgency in Rome's scream only added to the quake. But when the ceiling begin to cave in, Nathan had no choice but to move for Rome, toward the little girl who glanced up at him with terrified glossy eyes. Floorboards begin to collapse on top of them just as Nathan pulls Lucy's body beneath his own, attempting to tug her back to where he had been. Close to the front door. The house was falling apart.

It shouldn't be falling apart that easily.

"It's alright," He tries to reassure her, one hand tucking her head into his neck so they weren't parted. If he lost grips of the child, chances were she'd be crushed and alone by the second floor falling on top of him. His heart sank to his feet when he realised Rome was somewhere beneath the fallen wall, and if he didn't get Lucy up and moving, they would be stuck as well. "We need to move, sweetheart, come on —"

"Uncle Rome!" 

"I'm going to help him," He tells her, lifting her up as another shake knocks her. "I'm going to —" But then something smacks him in the back of his head and the last thing that he hears is the sound of a little girl screaming. 

— BUCK'S POV, train wreck

Buck stared up at the house that had all but torn itself apart. One of his hands tugs his helmet against his hip as he listens to what Bobby is instructing, seeing some of those who lived nearby standing around with horrified expressions at what was left behind with the aftershocks.

He'd been hoping for a moment's break after they'd managed to rescue everybody back at the hotel, relieved at the little girl being returned back to her family, saving the woman who had been preyed on by her now dead boss, but saddened by the loss of a fellow firefighter who had come in to help on his day off. Not everyday was a good day. But today meant nobody would be catching a moment to find some peace. Not even when his shift was meant to be over at this time.

One last call has come in, Bobby had told them as they stood around, watching the hotel guests holding their family members close with shaky limbs and relieved breaths. And Athena called me personally.

"Buck, Eddie, I want you both to survey the front. Dispatch said the roof came down first. We need to stabilise the rest of the house so we can pull the wounded out." Bobby pointed toward Buck and Eddie, who didn't hesitate to nod. That seemed easy enough after what they'd been through back at the hotel that was much higher, much more dangerous.

Buck had no idea what he was walking towards as he pushed open the unclosed gate that remained untouched, even if the front yard was hit with some damage from the roof.

He had no idea that one of the wounded inside was Nathan. 

"Wait — wait," Bobby's voice suddenly prevents his team from completely separating, and both Chimney and Hen glance over their shoulders to watch their Captain hurry towards Buck, an arm reaching out to grab the sandy-haired firefighter. "Not you. Chim," He waves over the one stood beside Hen, "Replace Buck from the front."

Confusion filled the team. That wasn't like Bobby at all.

Buck's hand tries to tuck himself away from Bobby's pull, "What? I got this," He reassures his Captain, not understanding the sudden change of plan. He didn't get why Bobby seemed so on edge all of a sudden, and just as he goes to speak again, Buck's eyes accidently flicker over Bobby's shoulder and his whole posture tenses.

"Baby brother?" One of Nathan's co-workers, detective Keller, somebody Buck hadn't met before, repeats as he stops beside them. He's older than Buck's brother by at least ten years, and Buck can see the age difference in their faces with the deepening lines across the other guy's skin, "So this is the famous Evan?"

At the indication of him being known, and the idea of his brother speaking of him so often to be referred to as famous, Buck's face lights up, his body jerking with energy. He throws his phone back on the leather seat, forgetting about the mention of Maddie calling Nathan but not him, and choosing instead to focus on what he'd just heard. "Famous?" He repeats excitedly, also ignoring Bobby's attempt to grab his attention. "Does Nathan speak about me?"

"Nathan likes to tell people that his brother is the leading firefighter of Los Angeles," His brother's work partner informs Buck, a chuckle following. The answer has Buck wondering how he never knew that — that Nathan speaks so proudly about him to other people. Not that he should be surprised, Buck knew, but the knowingness caused some joyful glee. "Something about you Buckley's knowing how to run things."

The memory burns as it ticks over again and again in Buck's mind, taunting him. Threatening to pull him apart and under and not let his head lift. That guy — the one staring back at him with both remorse and panic — was his brother's partner. The one who had told him that Nathan spoke about him often enough for his brother's unit to think him famous for it. And so if he was there, then where was Nathan? And why did he look like that, at Buck, as if Buck's whole world was close to falling apart just as the house behind him?

His head spun.

Who was in the house behind him?

Who was stuck underneath the second floor that caved down upon the first?

Oh, no. No. No.

Please no, screamed Buck. But nothing left his trembling lips. Not Nathan. Anybody but Nathan, and there wasn't enough time to feel any guilt for thinking such a selfish thought as he shoved Bobby's hand from his arm with a new sense of purposeful power.

"You're too close to this, Buck, I can't —" Bobby tried, seeing the shift in Buck's face. But he, more than anyone, understood. To have somebody you considered your whole world — and Bobby knew that Buck thought of his big brother as just that — possibly torn from you. "If I say you're done in there, you fall back."

Buck wasn't sure if he nodded at all when he raced toward the red porch steps. The two wooden pillars on either side had snapped down the middle and Buck knew the neighbourhood was in need of some serious maintenance, but. . . this house would likely not have the same home-owners by the looks of things.

Slightly moving behind him, Eddie peered over Buck's shoulder. He wasn't totally sure what was going on. "Alright," He began, fingers tightening around his wrist as he tugged the clip. "Do you —"

"His name is Nathan," Buck interrupted, a rush in his words. He needs his own work partner to know. To understand what was at stake here. His eyes, the wide blue that they were, met Eddie's darker ones that flicker for some explanation. "My brother's name is Nathan. He's in here."

The detective, Eddie recalled briefly seeing the cop that Buck had been bothering a few days ago. And suddenly, the tense attitude to Buck made sense, so he nodded, and followed in after Buck who had to lift his leg over the door. "How many residents?"

"Four," Buck numbly answered, "Uncertain on. . ."

A hand stuck out between a pile of floorboard.

The only thing he could think about was that brother calling out for the other on his last shift. Buck had watched it and felt terrified that would be him next. Nathan had assured him he could call, and Buck had felt better for it. . . until now. Until here. Until the moment he was staring down an an unmoving hand, wondering if it belonged to his brother, who may be dead already. Who he might not be able to save. Who he might of lost.

Could he do that?

Could he lose Nathan?

What if he lost Nathan?

What if the Buckley siblings, instead of being the three they had always been in Buck's lifetime, went to being. . . two?

How would he sleep at night? Would he even be able to sleep at night, haunted by the very hand that he's staring down at with a horrified ache? What if he pulled the wood from the body and he's staring back at identical eyes that — and it's not Nathan. Eddie had moved when Buck couldn't. Instead of the blue he had been imagining he'd face, there was brown. Wide, brown eyes that were lifeless.

Eddie shakes his head, a sigh leaving him as he pulls back from the victim. "He's gone." 

The relief that Buck feels is sickening and has him moving forward, eyes searching the aftermath of the earthquake here. Somebody had still died. Somebody else had lost him. Buck didn't have any right to feel glad that it was this stranger and not his brother. 

The relief that Buck feels is sickening and has him moving forward, eyes searching the aftermath of the earthquake here. Somebody had still died. Somebody else had lost him. Buck didn't have any right to feel glad that it was this stranger and not his brother.

"Buck, be careful," Eddie warns him at the way Buck is just throwing himself forward. Anything to spot another limb. Another to hear a sound. "The last thing we need is the rest coming down on us while we are trying to find Nathan."

He was right, logically.

"Buck, Eddie, anything?" Came Bobby through the radio.

It's Eddie who grabs his to respond, "Got a body. He's been gone a while. We're moving on through the house." His eyes caught sight of a hole in the floor, creeping forward before his eyes widen, head snapping upward, "Is there a basement?"

A moment went between the answer, but then it came, "Neighbour says these houses do have basements."

Letting his hand fall from his radio, Eddie sees that Buck is throwing wood from the ground in search and he has to throw an arm out, "Stop! Stop! Buck! The ground fell through. Watch your footing," And Buck froze, trying to see what Eddie had seen, but the floor looked in tact where he was standing.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah —" Eddie stands, moving through a corridor instead of over to Buck. The kitchen was a disaster, but the door between the fridge and stove grabbed his attention as he reaches for the handle, pulling it open and seeing his theory was right.

The sound of crying was quiet, but the sign of life had the firefighter moving. The stairs creaked under his weight as he moved down them, tugging on the wire that lit up the ground from the light on the left wall.

And there she was. Not alone, but the only one moving, and crying, and glancing up to him.

"Buck!" Eddie screams over his shoulder, hearing the frantic movements of his partner following him down the stairs so he could see the same thing. The little girl had both arms locked around the body of Nathan, tears running down her cheeks but she refused to move even with two firefighters standing in her line of vision, instead choosing to remain with the man that, from his positioning, appeared to have sheltered the girl and took the hit for it.

"He won't wake up," She cried and the sound broke the halt in Buck's body as he sprung forward, knees buckling and dropping beside Nathan's head, reaching forward to cradle his brother's cheeks.

Doing the same with a more steady posture, Eddie grabs his radio, pressing his fingers in, his other hand reaching for the little girl instead. "We found Nathan and a little girl, Cap. He's unconscious. We're in the basement and we're going to need assistance to get him out of here." He then looks to the child, trying to move her a little out of the way but she clings to the detective's arm tighter. "I need to take a look at him, alright? You can stay beside me but I need to assess him."

Buck's thumbs rub underneath Nathan's eyes, easily spotting the head wound. "He's bleeding, Eddie," He grabbed his friend's attention who reached over. "And he won't respond."

"Let me —" Eddie doesn't have any of his medical kit with him, but he knew Chim and Hen were on their way down to them. His fingers push against Nathan's pulse, nodding to himself despite the lack of ease at the pace — which wasn't a good sign, but it was there. He was alive. "He's alive. Med is coming. Deal with the little girl, Buck, I got your brother."

"What?" Buck's head snapped up at the suggestion. Nathan was his brother. His responsibility. Saving lives was what he did, but he wasn't sure he could just leave his brother's side in fear it might be the last time he was there. "I can't —"

"You don't have a choice," Eddie doesn't mean to snap, but his tone is a little harder. He could take care of Nathan. "Let me do my job and you do yours." 

That was all well and said when it wasn't his brother unmoving with blood dripping from his head. It was fine when it was somebody that Buck didn't feel emotionally dependant on. Nathan was the elder, often the one with the comfort and acknowledgement, and just the way he seemed to always know what to do. Buck did everything he could to resemble his older siblings and found that they were rather alike naturally.

His body does scoot back, able to see the tear marks on the child's cheeks from the light's reflection, and his heart hurts. Nathan had done his best to take most of the fall for her. Perhaps that's why her fingertips remained stretched out his brother's way.

"Okay," He breathed to himself, pushing himself closer to her with his knees scuffling against the floor. Checking her over, he finds that aside from her pleas and shaky hands, she seems to be in a good condition. No injuries. No sign of one either. The concrete was a welcome distraction, flinging the mess of the floor above them away as he pulled the girl further from his brother's body. "Does anything hurt?" 

Her head shakes, but then another sob breaks through from her chest and she starts to hiccup, "No —" Buck keeps her steady, letting her lean against his shoulder as he hears footsteps pound against the wood of the basement stairs leading Chimney and Hen down to them. "I want to go to school now."

"Okay," Buck isn't sure what she means by that, the thought of school hadn't even crossed his mind at the sight of the little girl missing a day of education. "We're going to get you out of here, alright? Don't stray from me."

". . . broken ribs. . . I don't know the. . . head wound. . ." He could hear some of what Eddie and Hen were saying over the crying, trying to focus on both at the same time in his hyperactive state. And then he realised somebody would need to grab Robin — but who? Oh God, who? He couldn't. Nathan couldn't, he'd been trapped here all day, unconscious. Had Maddie been able to grab her? If not, then nobody had picked Robin up and she must be so worried. He needed to do something.

The hand over Nathan's sternum as Hen ordered for Chimney to assist her had Buck's throat clogging up. Something was wrong. Something was happening. But the little girl threw herself into Buck's open arms, fingers gripping the jacket tightly between his grasp, not wishing to ever let go in case she was left down here alone.

"Get her out of here, Buck," Hen told him without glancing his way, knowing the cop she was ripping the shirt open of was his big brother. Right now, he was a man that she needed to aid. When he didn't move, she repeated herself, sterner, sounding like Bobby, "I said get her out of here now, Buckley!"

As he lifted the girl up, his knees weak and his mouth dry, Buck glanced down at the gurney that was set up for his brother to be lifted onto but had yet to be. Bobby's arm directed him up the stairs, and he followed wordlessly, every step a betrayal to his sibling behind him.

He was leaving Nathan behind and the realisation made him feel sickly.

Nathan wouldn't leave him, would he? Not in that situation and not in life, right? Nathan, who always told Buck that if Buck ever needed to talk, he'd be right there no matter the time? Nathan, who would knock on his door and tell him breakfast was ready even though Buck was a grown man now? Nathan who had the ability to walk into a room and change the mood of just about anybody in it without realising his power — he was attentive. He remembered things about you. He cared so much. Just like Buck did. 

It wasn't a flaw to either of them, but right now, now more than ever, it felt like a curse.

"I don't have a pulse! He's not breathing!"

He stopped at Hen's alarm, the sound of lifting and the gurney being turned had Buck turning, but Bobby's there, gently ushering him along. No matter how much he tried to see, the words that he tried to speak that just wouldn't come out, Bobby protected Buck from the sight. 

Buck wasn't being professional and he knew that, but as soon as the little girl was taken from his arms by another paramedic, he couldn't find it in himself to care as he watched his co-workers pull the gurney along. Every inch of him fought inside to scream, to shake his brother until he woke back up, but he let them do their jobs, just like Eddie had all but demanded that he do. Buck was trying really hard. He really was. To let somebody else take control of whether his brother lived or not.

His elbows locked in, bending forward as he kept staring right toward Hen and Eddie who were leaning over Nathan on opposite sides. By the looks of it, Eddie had been doing compressions on the way up, and the last thing Buck sees as he starts to move forward on long heavy legs was Nathan having a mask placed over his mouth and nose before the doors shut.

No!

"I'm going —"

Bobby shakes his head, "Buck —"

The sudden spell of dread that erupted within has Buck nearing to stop and heave, but one second's waste was too much time to lose. He was not being left here. He refused the idea. It was a stupid wordless suggestion.

"No," Buck opened the door to the ambulance, ignoring Hen's expression, knowing it was more her concern for Buck than anything else. She didn't want for him to have to see this, but she had no choice, because he had no choice. "I'm going with my brother to the hospital."

Just as the door was about to close, he sees the face of his brother's partner and remembers his niece again. His hand slams against the outside of the other half of the ambulance doors, "Call my sister, call Maddie! She has to go and get Robin." And then the detective nods, face dropping in realisation, before he turns and hurries away. 

Then the doors close again and Buck is left in the corner, a timid stare in his eyes that sends him back to his youth. He remembers the time his brother had nearly drowned jumping into the pool after Buck, who had only done so in order to impress their Father with a star-fish jump, and the way the lifeguards had crowded round Nathan as he choked on the water that he'd inhaled after getting pushing Buck up the wall to climb out.

He's there, alone. The two brothers are in the same ambulance, in the same space, but one of them is on the verge of death and the other feels as if he might follow his brother anywhere.

"Please," Buck whispers into his hands, as the space in the back got smaller and smaller with every second. "Please." 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Buck asks as he swings his legs as the two sat on the bridge overlooking the lake beneath them. Maddie had been hanging around with her boyfriend, Doug, and had left the youngest of them feeling somewhat neglected.

The older of the pair shrugs his shoulders, not revealing that he had plans to join the army as soon as he could. His friend's brother was in the army, and he handled the dogs, and whenever he was home, his friend would go and stay at his brother's. That's what he and Buck could do instead of Nathan having to return home to their parents. "I hope something good."

Buck gripped the metal bar that separated them, cheek pressing against the coldness. "You'll be great. Whatever you do."

The smile that Buck receives in return was one he'd forever imprint in his memory. He only had one brother in this life and his brother was his best friend.

Blood stained the top of the stretcher from where Nathan had hit his head. Buck was sure he was going to vomit, having to turn away when he heard the sound of another crack.

"His rib was already broken," Chimney quietly told Buck, as if that piece of information was any help. As if that took away the horror of the situation, but it wasn't on Chim, Buck knew that. One hand pressed against his ear as he pushed his knees forward, his other hand reaching forward underneath Eddie's body to grasp tightly onto Nathan's hand.

I'm here, he's trying to say. He hopes Nathan can hear him, feel him. Understand him like when they were children and one shared glance was all the communication they needed. I'm staying right here.

"Come on," Eddie breathed, pressing down again. His hands never stop, desperate for life to be returned to Buck's older brother. He liked to know Nathan. He liked to know Nathan if it meant that Nathan would live. "Come on. Breathe, breathe," A beep could be heard, all eyes flying to the small monitor. A choked air of relief left Buck's mouth. Eddie's hand clasped down in the air between Nathan's head and shoulder, "I've got a pulse!" 

He wants to cry. He wants to cry because he knew that Nathan was fighting, and that his brother had heard his message, and he wanted to live. He wanted to cry but he held his anguish in for the time being, fingers squeezing Nathan's. He wouldn't let go. You'd have to pry him off. He wants to stay by his brother's side until their sister, and. . . his niece, comes and joins them, and then Buck wants to wrap them all up in his arms where he knows they'll be fine.

So close to losing Nathan and for a second, Buck had. He'd lost his brother's pulse, something he'd yet to really process being a witness of as he refused to leave Nathan. He would, but later on when Nathan was able to squeeze his hand back. Only when his brother was awake and Buck knew he was going to be okay would Buck allow him to really cry. He'd soak in his brother's words that he was fine, hearing it from Nathan himself.

Never did Buck think he'd be counting his brother's pulse so attentively, but there he was, petrified that it'd be lost again. He didn't want Eddie crushing his hands against Nathan's chest any longer. 

"He has a collapsed lung," Hen and Eddie exchange the conversation back and forth as they work to stabilise Nathan further. A heartbeat wasn't enough anymore, not what he had it back. He needed to continue keeping that heart beating. He needed to live.

His head rests against the back of Nathan's cold hand, sure that he was only limiting the space for Eddie's legs, but his friend took no issue going over his knelt partner. Because perhaps if Nathan had heard Buck's message, the reassurance that he was there, then more of that would bring his brother back around.

Because even if it changed everything he'd worked for, Buck wouldn't hesitate to give his lung to his brother if he needed.

notes —

i live for sibling tropes. and i think because it's buck — who felt as if he wasn't good enough within his own family because of his parents for so long — i'm just moving to provide the love that buck should of received from a younger age. because poor maddie as well, being isolated with her grief and trauma whilst raising her little brother. and my solution? give them another sibling who loves them both as if loving them is the most natural thing in the world, because it is really. 

and here's buck, nearly losing that very brother. you're welcome!